The door slammed behind Hawke, urged by the wind. Wet, heavy snow clung in the creases of her armour, and she began to strip without a word.

"Well?" Leandra asked, looking up.

"No one is out," Hawke replied. "You'd think they'd never seen snow before."

"Damned Fereldens, bringing your snow with you," Gamlen cursed by the fire, before coughing heavily.

"Yes, it is all our fault," Hawke rolled her eyes, striding across the room in the scant smalls beneath her armour. She rummaged in the back room before emerging in some warmer clothing. "Isn't it always what you wanted, uncle?"

Gamlen grumbled in his own way, closing his eyes again as he lay down. Leandra wrung out the cloth in her hand, before pressing it to the gash on his forehead again.

"Bethany should be back by nightfall, at the latest," Hawke said, adding more wood to the fire before joining them. The pad of heavy feet preceded their large mabari hoisting itself into her lap. "Ahh hello your grace? Did you miss me? Of course you did."

The mabari harrumphed quietly, pulling its other legs up so he squashed Hawke - though she hardly seemed to mind. She roughly rubbed the dog's neck and ears, kissing him on the head.

"He ate another rat," Gamlen murmured.

"That would certainly explain his breath," Hawke replied, grinning at the mabari and saying, "Good job, boy."

"Hmph," her uncle sighed, closing his eyes.

"What are you doing incurring gambling debts anyway, my dearest uncle?" Hawke casually asked after a while, still stroking the dog draped over her lap.

"None of your damned business," he grumbled.

"I think it is," Hawke casually said. She struggled to reach her drying armour under the weight of the mabari, retrieving a small satchel. She threw I at Gamlen, and he grunted when it hit him on the head, reopening the cut there. "When Coterie are waiting outside our door for you."

"What is this?"

"The purse they held," Hawke murmured, rubbing her dog's head again. "They shouldn't be a problem again. At least not those... specific men."

"Maker preserve us," Leandra sighed, closing her eyes. "Why do you do these things, Marian?"

"Me?" Hawke said, and her movement startled the dog. She grunted as he scrambled off her. "I saved sweet uncle Gamlen's damned life. They would have gutted him and left him to freeze in the snow."

"When did we fall so far," Leandra softly said. "What would your father say?"

"I don't know," Hawke waved a hand. "At least she hid the bodies?" She was out of the chair, fetching a bit of bread before leaning on the table behind them.

Leandra put the cloth down and covered her eyes, kneeling on the ground beside Gamlen. "Where is Bethany? She should be here."

"The job needs doing," Hawke emptily said, looking down at the stained, worn wood.

"So why aren't you with her?"

Hawke shook her head, closing her eyes, "Too many men. They wouldn't give me the details - it's not like we have much choice."

"There should have been something better..."

"We aren't trodden under the Blight that ravages Ferelden, This is the something's better," Hawke replied. "Though I imagine life as a ghoul deformed darkspawn might have been easier."

Gamlen started coughing again, and he groaned, blood from the gash weeping and drawing Leandra's attention again. Stalking back across the small room, Hawke retrieved the kettle from over the fire, filling the tin cups and passing them out.

"On the bright side," she said. "With uncle laid up and infirm, he cannot be out wasting more coin."

"Really now, you both are such amateurs," Hawke grinned coquettishly, twirling the dagger in her hand. She shook her head and used the blade to measure out the fine powder on the parchment.

"Where did you get the flasks?" One of the elves sitting across from her asked.

"Through perfectly legitimate means, I assure you," Hawke murmured.

"Right."

Taking the amount on the edge of her blade, she tipped it against the folded piece of paper, feeding it into the small neck of the vial. Lighting the wick on the wax stick, watched it burn before blowing it out, and sealing the delicate vial. dropping it into the flask of clear liquid, she corked it and sealed it too.

"There," Hawke said with a grin. "Keep a pocket full of these and you'll do well enough."

The elf turned it over in his hand, murmuring, "You're in the wrong line of work, Hawke."

"Oh I don't know, Bertol," Hawke draped an arm over the back of her chair. "I thought as an elf you must know just how gratifying slavery can be."

Bertol growled in reply, but his companion laughed, and Hawke smiled casually. The lamps in the small room flickered as the door opened, and Bethany came running in.

"It's over," she gasped, eyes wide. "Marian, it's over!"

"Athenril ended out contract early? Or is it that rash you mentioned..."

"Sister," Bethany groaned, coming to take Hawke's hand. "It's all over the streets. The Blight is over - the Wardens killed the archdemon!"

Hawke exchanged glances with the elves, "The Blight? It's truly over?"

"Yes!" Bethany laughed as Hawke stood up and shouldered her satchel. "The army the Wardens gathered are joined with the Queen's on the heels of the darkspawn - Ferelden is free!"

"The Queen?" Hawke raised her brow, "Why do I feel there's something I've missed..."

"Come on," Bethany took her hand, tugging her along, "We must tell mother!" They were out the door before Hawke could say another word, jogging through the bustle of Lowtown. "Just think - we could be back home after our service is up!"

"I wouldn't get too overzealous, sister," Hawke replied, easily keeping up. "Darkspawn aren't the sort to clean up after they've made themselves at home."

"Right... I know," Bethany slowed down, exhaling out. "You're always right."

Hawke squeezed her shoulder, grinning, "You'll learn some day. Come. It's exciting news for mother, none the less."

"I'm not comfortable doing this," Aveline whispered, swaying on the balls of her feet as she kept watch.

"Oh please," Hawke said from where she knelt. She manipulated the picks in her hand as she murmured, "Does anything I do make you comfortable, Aveline?"

"Sleeping, perhaps," she replied, earning a snort from Hawke. There was the quiet click of pins. "Is this going to take much longer? It's almost dawn."

"I'll have you back in time for ample beauty rest, I promise," Hawke murmured, slowly turning her wrist and finally aligning the tumblers. She smiled gregariously back at Aveline as she said, "Our mistress should be pleased with this."

"Why do you call her that?"

"Indentured servant, slave – is there much of a difference?" Hawke inhaled as she pulled open the leather bag in the chest and checked the powder within. She shivered. "Lyrium powder."

"What are you doing?" Aveline lowered her sword, gawking.

Hawke sucked her tongue back in, smacking her lips, "I just wanted to taste it. What are all these mages on about, anyway?"

"Maker preserve me," Aveline sighed, shaking her head as Hawke pointed at another box to retrieve.

"It mathe my lipth and thongue thumb," Hawke awkwardly spoke, obviously with some difficulty. "Thhit."

"There – the signal," Aveline said, catching Hawke by the scruff of her shirt. "We have to go!"

Hawke stumbled, her eyes dilating wide as she cinched the bag shut and stuffed it in her satchel. She beckoned to Aveline and they slunk along the wall, hearing the clump of feet down the hall. Pointing to the wall, Hawke hoisted Aveline up and out the window – right as one of the patrols spotted them.

"You! You don't belong here."

Hawke smiled in the most cavalier way, leaning against the wall as she heard Aveline hit ground and curse outside the window, "Of courth I thoo."

The guard advanced closer and narrowed his eyes, "What's wrong with you? No funny business."

"Drath, I hapthen thoo be quith funny, you know," Hawke struggled, and soon she was coughing to try and not laugh. As the guard reached for his sword, her wrist snapped, and the flask broke on the wall. Holding her breath, she punched him in the face and kicked him to the ground, before turning and hauling herself up and out the window.

"Wun!" Hawke slurred as she pushed Aveline and looked behind them, the telltale seep of green gas visible through the high window.

"What did you do, Hawke?" Aveline glared as they picked up the pace and darted down the back alley of the docks.

"Nothing unnethethary, I athure you," Hawke tried to smile, but the numbness in her lips left the expression lop-sided.

"Maker, nothing's ever boring with you," Aveline laughed and shook her head. They could hear a call of alarm behind them, and she followed as Hawke darted up a set of crates, panting as she clamoured in her armour. "I hate you right now."

"You'll love me lather I promith," Hawke grinned brokenly again, offering a hand as they dropped down into the street. "I'll make ith thoo the dwop."

Aveline checked the alley as she nodded, turning north, "Let me know if you make it back alive…"

Hawke nodded, eyes sparkling. When Aveline was out of sight, she turned the other direction and jogged through the shadows, eyes bright to watch for pursuers.