Hawke walked alongside Aveline through the empty streets, scanning the houses one by one. The sky overhead was empty, save for the trail of smoke ascending from the chantry pyre.

"Thank you for doing this," Aveline said, tucking the scarf over her nose as they rounded onto another street.

"You know me," Hawke murmured. "Love a good whiff of quicklime."

"There shouldn't be so much today," Aveline replied with a sigh. "Most of the nobles have left the city now. Abandoning the rest to their fate. We should be down in Lowtown."

"Yes, Donnic would just love if we went there," Hawke said, glancing over one of the doorways. She stopped to check the barricade. "You're one of the only motes of sense this city has left, the last thing we need is you succumbing to the wasting."

"And do you think I enjoy thinking of him down there?" Aveline furrowed her brow, rounding back towards the chantry.

"So coddle him."

"No," Aveline sighed. "I cannot grant him any favours. It is unfair to protect him and not the rest of my men. I worry about them all in the end... I've lost five in the past weeks."

"I'm sorry," Hawke quietly said. "This might not be so much of an issue if they opened the Gallows."

"Yes, because Meredith would love that," Aveline scoffed.

"Do you know how many lives Anders alone has saved in Darktown?" Hawke quietly said, looking amidst the houses and apartments. "Some flee there, because he can offer a modicum of hope. Imagine if all the healers from the Gallows were allowed to use their Maker given gifts, how many fewer men, women and children would die."

"Then by all means, petition the Knight-Commander."

"The ferries are no longer docking in the city," Hawke said, and they stopped a moment. There were candles lit and melted all along the chantry steps - prayers for those who had died. The sun was beating down, hot in the grips of summer, and half of the candles melted from it alone. "As if locking the districts down weren't bad enough, she cuts off the one lifeline that might be useful."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think Anders were gaining a greater foothold in your opinions," Aveline said as they turned towards the markets.

"My apologies, dear Aveline, I had thought saving lives was something of a noble goal, damn my practicality," Hawke said, looking at her. "And sorry for wishing to see or hear from my sister."

"I - you're right," Aveline sighed, and fell quiet a moment. Finally she said, "Donnic has asked for my hand."

Stopping in the square, Hawke looked to her with a peculiar grin, "Really? Amidst all this?"

"It - it was before the lockdown," Aveline said, an edge in her voice as she pointed down an alley to look. "But I - we had hoped to be wed for the solstice."

"A good omen for the ceremony," Hawke said.

"I don't know if I feel right doing it now. But... I'd like you there," the guard-captain replied.

"Of course," Hawke said, giving her friend a squeeze, "I'll have to steal something nice for a gift."

Aveline groaned, "Please don't."

They fell silent as a pair of templars passed. They nodded and acknowledged Hawke, and she bristled as they continued on behind her.

"How many bets they aren't helping plague victims and guarding for looters," Hawke said under her breath. "Maker forbid they actually be useful."

"Just let it go, Hawke."

Hawke peeled her face from the pillow as Anders moved out of bed, his footsteps in the dark uneven. He was breathing heavily, and she smeared her hand over her face as she sat up more. "Blondie?"

Anders huffed slightly, a half-laugh as he stopped, "What?"

"Did I stink up the bed or something awful like that?" her voice cracked with sleep. She sniffed deep as he swayed, his shadow visible in the low light. His luminous eyes turned to her.

"No," he rasped, pacing towards the door again before turning about. His voice weakened as he sank into the chair by the wardrobe, "No, it is never you."

"Never say never," Hawke said, shifting under the covers to dangle her legs off the bed.

"No," Anders whispered, and there was a crackle of light before he covered his eyes. "I can't. I just... Maker..."

Hawke was on her feet to pull him against her abdomen as he trembled, and he gripped her bare skin, "I'm here for you."

"I wish you weren't," he croaked, and her fingers tightened in his hair to keep his face against her stomach.

"You don't mean that," she tried to laugh it off. "Come, you can even smush your face into my breasts. That always makes you feel better."

Anders smeared his face up her skin, a dampness left in the wake as he nestled his head between the soft mounds of skin. She cradled him close, almost grinning in the dark. "Sometimes I think you're ridiculous just to try and make me smile."

"Alas you will never know," she sighed, stepping closer as his hands kneaded her skin and backside.

"It smells like you," he whispered, turning his face against her skin and breathing deep. "I am sorry for waking you."

Hawke laid her lips atop his head, "Nevermind that, you are naked and nuzzling my breasts, entirely worth the loss of sleep."

Anders made a soft sound, turning his face and settling into the slender curve of her stomach as she ran her fingers through his hair, tugging through the tangles. They stood like that for a while in the dark, his breathing slowing and his hands caressing up and down her back and thighs. Hawke left her cheek on his brow, hunched to envelop him in her arms.

"You deserve some sort of normal," he softly whispered, even as she kissed his brow. "Why me, Marian?"

"Well," she exhaled dramatically, "Once you go abomination, you never go back."

Anders sighed, and she tugged his head back to kiss him, resting her knee between his legs. The kiss deepened as he parted his lips, and Hawke tightened her grip on his hair.

When he tugged his lips away into her neck with a soft shudder, she whispered, "Because I love you more than anyone else."

"If you two make a scene or ruin this in any way, Maker help me, I will gut you," Aveline said under her breath. Orana stopped her work a moment, and the woman turned to her. "Not you, dearest. I can't thank you enough for your help."

"It is my pleasure, Miss Aveline," Orana curtsied and disappeared back into kitchen.

"So no goats," Hawke said, expressionless. "I thought I might bring some wheat."

"I could give a speech about the need to properly temper steel," Varric said, thumbing his chin.

Aveline covered her face and sighed, "I knew this was a terrible idea. It couldn't be something private."

"I think there's a horse waiting for you."

"The chantry isn't that far," Aveline groaned, wringing her hands as she paced in her gown.

"Stop acting so manly, Aveline," Varric said, earning a reproachful glance. "You're wearing a dress! I thought you'd be more dainty."

"It's bad enough not having a sword," she sighed with a soft huff.

Hawke took her arm, smiling, "You look lovely. Here." There was a small stiletto in the palm of her hand. "Put that in your boot or stocking or something."

"No," Aveline said, pushing it back. "Maker, look what you two've done to me."

"The marigolds are a nice touch," Varric said, inspecting the blade's handle. "Turning away such a thoughtful gift."

"It's a cheese knife, I swear," Hawke protested, putting a hand to her bosom. "Perish the thought it might be used for something otherwise."

Aveline closed her eyes, composing herself before taking the small dagger, "Thank you, Hawke."

"I respect you more than anyone, Aveline," Hawke said, taking her friend's hand. "And I am very glad for you this day. I give you a little blade to prick, though I suppose you'll be gaining another prick today..."

"Agh," Aveline pulled her hand away, rolling her eyes as Varric sniggered. "And for a moment I thought you might actually be serious."

"I was entirely serious," Hawke said, picking up the heavy cloak and draping it around the guard-captain's shoulders. She pulled the deep hood up over Aveline's head as she whispered, "I hope you are pierced, and stabbed in every which way this evening."

"Is it too late to rescind my invitation?"

"Yes," Hawke said in a breath, taking her friend's arm. "Carry her train, dwarf. To the chantry."