Limbs aching, Hawke shielded her eyes from the evening glare as the sun burst over the barracks. The old moves had returned within the first month, her stomach still burnt, but she'd take that, she'd earnt it. At least the pain kept her focused.
"The Champion doesn't stop, Hawke!" Aveline was right, she had a reputation to protect, she had him to protect. She could rely on the Guard Captain to push her, and right now that's what she wanted, needed.
It would be so easy to spend weeks, months even, curled around Anders. To bury herself in their bed and hide from the city and its incessant demands. But the house was too silent. She was too silent. Once he was satisfied she could move about the house unaided he'd returned to work in the clinic. She'd tried that first day. She got as far at the small corridor before the over ripe stench of the lilies hit her. She'd vomited right there on the landing. Then came the tears, her body conspiring to expel as much as it could from her. She didn't try again.
"The Champion can fuck a nug." Bending double, the hilts of the blades pressing into her thighs, she sucked air into her lungs as Aveline's laughter bounced across the training grounds. Her shoulders throbbed from the new rhythms, her usual fluid swings giving way to hard precision; and the assassin just sat in the shadows observing, silent except for muttered curses when her strikes went astray. Closing her eyes, she willed the anger back into her gut. It'd serve her better from there; festing and growing, rather than unloosing at the one person who could teach her what she needed to know.
Survival was no longer enough, the 'almosts' and 'mights' were too risky. She needed certainty. Needed to know when she went into a fight, her opponents; human, mage or some hideous beast Andraste dreamt up, would fall by her hand and would fall quickly. She couldn't afford to be out of action like this again, already the templar presence was increasing, extra metal heads here and there. The way those slit faces turned to follow her, to follow him set her senses alight; her hands twitching for weapons which oughtn't be drawn. This used to be a home of sorts, but now at each turn, at each dark patch of dirt she saw the trail they'd run through the streets. Everything about the town screamed her failure, her laziness, her ineptitude. And now they were closing in, and she had one last chance to protect something, someone. And this time she was going to do it right.