Hawke's mouth dropped as she raised her hands and stumbled back, the qunari mage bursting into flames before her eyes. She must have yelled out, because Anders, Varric and Fenris came running. But when Anders raised his hands to freeze the serebas, it was too late.

"What did you do?" Anders demanded, kneeling down to check the caged man's pulse. "He's dead."

"Me?" Hawke shook her head, "Why do you assume it's me?"

"Because it usually is," Varric murmured, earning a reproachful glance.

"I stab things, not set them on fire," Hawke said, uncharacteristically flustered. "He set himself aflame, he said he wanted to… die by the Qun."

"Perhaps he is doing us all a favour," Fenris muttered.

"It'd be better if mages just put ourselves out of misery, then?" Anders said, standing up and wiping off his hands.

"It's certainly an option," Fenris narrowed his eyes.

"Quiet," Hawke snapped, huffing before more quietly saying, "What do we do?"

"She knew," Varric said, "That sister from the chantry."

"I meant about him," Hawke sighed, scratching her brow. "We can't just leave him here."

They were quiet a moment before Fenris said, "He set himself aflame. We should honour his wishes, and let his body turn to ash."

"What drives a person to this?" Hawke quietly said, furrowing her brow.

"When there's no hope," Anders replied, drawing on the Fade to relight the qunari mage. "When the world seems against you – when it convinces you that you are a curse and a blight."

"Maybe because you are," Fenris said, shaking his head. "He made his choice." The elf turned back towards the path and had walked some 10 yards before he looked back, "Are we just going to watch him burn?"

Anders clenched his hand into a fist, closing his eyes with fragile control.

He backpedalled to where Hawke waited for him. Fenris had already left, and Varric was staggered closer. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to lay blame."

"You couldn't know," Hawke shrugged. "You look out for your own."

"Perhaps," Anders said, taking her side to follow the elf. "But so do you."

"Indeed," she arched her brow, a dark glint in her eye. "Let us return and find this holy sister who so delightfully sent us to our deaths."

"Please Anders," Hawke said, leading up the path back to Kirkwall proper. "You're a Grey Warden -"

"Was a Grey Warden," he replied, eyes down.

"I don't know, a little bird informed me that it isn't the sort of thing you can so easily walk away from," Hawke replied, and they stopped on the path. He rolled his eyes, and she continued. "You've experience with darkspawn."

"Something I was trying to leave behind," Anders said, furrowing his brow. "I'm in the city to take care of people... to look after those the rest have forgotten."

"It's alright," Bethany said with a sigh, "Sister, we'll make it on our own. Or we'll find another - you've not given Bartrand the gold yet, right?"
"Not yet," Varric chirped, smirking. "And I've got the bulk of it secured for you, so she can't drink it away."

Hawke growled a bit and shrugged Bethany's hand, "Let's go." She continued walking. Varric and Bethany glanced at Anders, before they all followed in relative silence. The road narrowed as they rounded a cliff and came in sight of the City of Chains.

"Halt!"

Hawke's hand naturally fell to the dagger on her belt as she stepped up and said, "How now, good sers."

A trio of templars advanced on them from a junction in the path, "Ferelden - we have come this way tracking a powerful maleficar. You would do wise to submit to our query."

"A curious thing," Hawke replied, easily smiling as her companions flanked her. "For we have seen no other travellers this afternoon."

The second templar spoke, "I felt it, lieutenant, I swear."

"A pity," Hawke said through her teeth, motioning to her friends to continue on. Anders moved slowly, clenching a hand. "Perhaps the evening shall bring you better fortune."

"Stand your ground," the lieutenant said. "You are not merchants or bandits, what business have you on the road?"

"It is hardly your concern -"

Varric raised a hand and light-heartedly chuckled, "You'll have to excuse my charge, she is being delivered to her husband-to-be. As much as she does not wish it, I will not go against my master and submit to her wishes."

"Truly, Hubric, I will not let you -"

"You," the templar cut Hawke off, pointing at Bethany. "Then what are you doing with them."

"I - she is my sister," Bethany replied, furrowing her brow. "I would see her... see her through this hard time."

"And this is our eunuch," Varric motioned back to Anders, before saying. "Come, his lordship does not appreciate tardiness."

"Right," the templars stepped into the path, blocking their way. "I suppose the five-o-clock shadow is just dirt. You will all be required to come in for questioning."

"You have no right to do this," Bethany said, though her voice wavered.

"Come quietly, and there is no harm done," the lieutenant said, his voice tempered. "With nothing to hide, you and your kin should not fear our queries."

"None the less," Hawke laughed a little, casually placing herself in front of Anders and Bethany. "We have done nothing wrong, nor are you city guards to hold us. Certainly I could have you at my estate when I am wed to thank you for your oversight."

Anders' eyes flickered blue, and each templar tensed to draw their sword, a call of surprise on their lips. "We shall find truth in action."

Hawke cursed and drew her blades, upon one of the templars before he could react, her dagger buried into his armpit. With a jerk of her wrist, she rendered his sword arm useless, and he shrieked in pain. They grappled, and she was forced to kick back, scrambling on the ground as a blossom of fire lit around her.

A bolt staggered the second templar, as he tried to catch Bethany, and the delay gave Hawke time to stab deep in his lower back. More blood on her hands, she caught a glancing swing of his sword, staggering before wedging her dagger up under his helmet. Crumpling backwards, her leg gave out.

Hawke blinked in a daze as the flash of magic lit around her, and in a moment is was over. She fell back, laughing a bit as she asked, "They're dead then?"

"Yes," Bethany said, hurrying to her sister's side. "You idiot, rushing in."

"You didn't hesitate," Anders said, his eyes returned to their melancholic furrow.

"How could I?" Hawke said, "Need to be quick. You're alright?"

"Of course I am," Bethany said, snapping open some of her sister's armour. Strain crept into her voice, "You're bleeding."

"Just a flesh wound," Hawke grimaced as she tried to move.

"Here," Anders said, joining them on the ground. "Keep still."

Hawke let herself fall back as the odd tingle of magic seeped through, and she sighed as the harsh throb abated. She looked at the sky, touching to her blood soaked clothes.

"You should be able to put weight on it," Anders said, offering his hand alongside Bethany to help Hawke up. "But I'll look at it again when we're safe."

"I'm certain you will," Hawke waggled a brow. "I may have some other things needing inspecting." Bethany groaned.

"If you're alive, we need to move," Varric said, watching the path ahead. "And we need to get rid of the bodies."

Shoving the bodies off the cliff into the sea, Hawke moved with a defined hobble, and she hurried them back towards the city.

"It's days like this I don't think staying in Kirkwall is the brightest idea," Hawke said under her breath.

"Yes, but it's where mother wants to be," Bethany replied, "And that's the least we can do."

"Besides," Varric said, "You've yet to come spelunking with me in the deep."

"That sounds perverse," Hawke smirked before sighing, and giving Bethany's hand a squeeze. "You're right, we have to stay. We'll make it our home, I know."

Anders sat with his mouth silenced on a closed fist as Varric laughed and talked with a few of the tavern's patrons. Hawke came back into the suite with a defined swagger, arm linked with Bethany's. Letting her sister go and snagging a tankard from the table, she sank into the seat beside him.

"And how is my favourite abomination," Hawke drawled, draping an arm around him.

"Please, it is hardly some joke," Anders replied, shifting uncomfortably.

"That is where you are wrong," she replied. "It is all one big joke on us. It's just a matter of whether you get the punch line or not."

"How is your thigh," he redirected, leaning back as she withdrew her arm.

"It is still there," Hawke nodded, waggling her brow. "Were you wanting to take a look?"

"Perhaps I spend too much time around the infirm," Anders said. "Ensuring it heals properly seems the least I can do."

Hawke nodded and sat up more, "Varric! I'm using your room."

Varric paused in his conversation and raised a hand in consent, lips in a wide rakish grin.

Hauling back up out of her chair, Hawke wobbled back and sat down on the bed. Cringing, she unbuckled part of her armour, "Ah shit. At least the coverlet is red, mm?"

"You shouldn't drink so much when you're hurt," Anders said, letting the curtain door drop closed.

"Well I did really want one," Hawke replied, sitting up on her elbows. She let him take her leg and pull the rest of the armour off.

"I don't know how safe it is to use magic here," he said, pulling a poultice from one of the pouches on his belt. "It will take longer."

Sucking a breath through her teeth, she replied, "I don't mind so much. This is rather comfortable."

"I can imagine," he grinned weakly, bandaging the poultice to the partially healed laceration down her leg. It took some time, and Hawke watched him.

"So are you?"

"Am I what?"

Hawke sucked some air, cheeks flushed from the drink, "A eunuch like Varric suggested?"

"No," Anders laughed, smoothing the cloth over her thigh.

"Then I don't suppose you'd scratch an itch for me?" Hawke asked, sitting up as Anders moved. She caught his hand against her thigh.

"It - it's very tempting," Anders replied, looking down.

"I sense a but..." Hawke pouted slightly.

"It would be inappropriate," he said, turning his hand in hers before pulling away. "Thank you for earlier. With the templars. I never... expect to be defended."

"I won't let them take Bethany," Hawke shrugged as though it were the simplest thing. "Why would I let them take you either?"

"Get some rest tonight?" Anders said, clearing his throat and shifting backward uncomfortably. He pulled a few leaves from his belt, "Chew this if there's pain. No more drinking."

"We'll see," she snagged the herb, popping one in her mouth.

Anders hesitated by the curtain, looking back briefly before saying, "If you do really need me, I'll come with you into the Deep Roads. Seems the least I can do."

"The least you can do is nothing," Hawke murmured, drooping back on the bed. She lazily smiled, "That wasn't for pain was it."

"It will ensure you get some rest," Anders said with a slight grin. "Sweet dreams, Hawke."

"Marian's the name to cry," she murmured, lead eyes closing. "Marian."