They were delayed on their journey to the Chantry by some attackers, taking advantage of the Hightown streets at night. Bianca, flashing daggers and the raw elemental powers of the mage made quick work of the would-be bandits. Hawke looted the bodies quickly, trying not to look at their faces.
It's all marked by blood.
Hawke hurried past the stone steps that led to the keep, already aware of just how late they were going to be. Stars pricked the smoggy blackness above them as the very last glow of the sunset faded behind stone facades.
They ascended the long flight of stairs that was winging them closer to the holy temple, Varric cursing his short legs under his breath. They were halfway up the incline when the sound of heavy boots and plate armor caught the rogue's ears.
"Hawke!" Her strong, steady voice confirmed the identity of the approaching figure.
"Aveline. I-"
"Stop. You're being stupid."
Hawke scoffed. "Come to arrest me, Guardswoman?"
"Maker no! We were... both being stupid. But if you're going to run around being daft and headstrong, there's no way in all of Thedas that I will let you do it without me." Her words were hard and determined, but that same mischievous smile that she wore earlier danced across her face again.
"I'm sorry that I yelled at you, Aveline," Hawke said, slapping a hand on her friend's pauldron, smiling with relief. "I know you were just trying to look out for me, and I am grateful. You are a loyal friend, Aveline."
"As are you, Hawke." She smiled broadly, green eyes flashing. "I see that I'm just in time to watch your back as you dive into dangerous waters again?"
"What would I do without my favourite guard? C'mon, we're late as it is, and I don't know how fussy Anders is about punctuality."
The quartet crested the top, seeing the Warden pacing like an anxious cat. Relief mingled with surprise washed over his prematurely lined face. "I wasn't sure if you were going to show! Thank the Maker you've come. Karl is inside, and I haven't seen any Templars yet."
"Let's get this over with," Hawke said, moving to the massive doors of the Chantry. It was unusually quiet upon entry. Hawke was accustomed to the murmurs of prayer and the wavering songs of the chants echoing against the vaulted ceilings of the Maker's temple.
Tonight, there were no Sisters drifting about, or Marchers praying or leaving offerings to the Maker and for the needy. The heady smell of incense and candle wax swirled through the all-to-still air, setting Hawke on edge. A terrible feeling was beginning to settle in her stomach, and all of her instincts told her to run, dragging Bethany with her. But fleeing wasn't an option.
Anders gestured that they ascend the eastern stairs to one of the alcoves on the upper level. Standing near an ornate wardrobe and warm bed was the mage they were seeking. His back was facing them, and again, Hawke felt uneasy, her fingers twitched to the hilts of her daggers.
"Anders, I know you too well. I knew you would never give up," came the deep, yet oddly monotone voice of Karl.
"What's wrong? Why are you talking like-"
"I was too rebellious, like you. The Templars knew I had to be... made an example of." He turned to face them all, bearded face devoid of emotion with a bright red sun emblazoned on his forehead. The symbol of the Chantry, and of Tranquility.
"No!" Hawke saw panic and distress rising in the mage, feeling his power seeping through the air.
"How else will mages ever master themselves? You will understand, Anders. As soon as the Templars teach you to control yourself." At that moment, soldiers clad in armor bearing the symbol of the burning sword converged on them. The Templars were moving in, weapons already drawn.
Hawke's panicked eyes sought out her sister, who was torn between flight or fight, her delicate fingers wavering near the shaft of her golden staff. Why had she been so stupid? Why did she think it would be safe to bring Bethany? If they got out of this alive, Hawke knew she would have to really make it up to Aveline.
But something else entirely different was happening on their side of the field. Anders had collapsed, clutching his head in his hands. Suddenly, as if fissures of pure magic were opening along the mage's skin, he began to glow white-hot blue, his otherwise soft eyes blazing with magic.
A voice not his own tore from his throat, "You will never take another mage, as you took him!" This voice was unearthly, full of hatred and defiance. Even Hawke felt herself cowering under the threat of whatever was happening to Anders.
At that very moment she knew there was no turning back. Anders just displayed a large amount of magic that the Templars seriously wouldn't condone. And they were with him. They were accomplices, and they saw Bethany's face. There was no chance that they could leave even a single one of the mage-hunters alive. She shot another glance at her companions.
Varric's finger was already dancing with Bianca's itchy trigger, Aveline barricaded behind her shield, sword held aloft, and Bethany's staff was in hand, concentrating on channeling her magic. That was enough for the rogue.
In the blink of an eye, Hawke had her daggers to hand and was moving lithely, with deadly grace toward the offending party. Aveline bellowed with her charge, locking blades with the Templar Lieutenant that was rallying his men. Bethany's magic blasted soldiers off of their feet, while Bianca's bolts pierced the plates of armor.
Hawke dove in and out of both enemy and ally, slipping her blades deftly through soft flesh at the weak points of armor, throwing flasks that burst into disorienting fogs, searing the lungs of the Templars unlucky enough to inhale.
All the while, Anders was flinging bolts of energy with precision only ever seen from the Dalish elves. He still pulsed with that curious blue glow, clearly executing his wrath on the intruders. With all of their combined talents, the small force of Templars stood no chance. Within minutes, the final soldier, begging for mercy was slain. Anders himself told the man that they had offered Karl no mercy, therefore deserved none himself. He executed the man cowering at his feet, a sinister smile playing across his lips.
"I-Anders! What did you do?" Karl's voice contained all the turmoil and emotion of a mage whose dreams were never severed from the Fade. "It's like...you brought a piece of the Fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like!"
It didn't take long before the mage, whose mind was briefly reclaimed, to be begging for death, never wishing to feel Tranquil again. Hawke looked at Bethany, who couldn't quite bring herself to look at the man they were supposed to be rescuing. Hawke could tell her sister was terrified, being confronted by someone who suffered a fate she had been running from her entire life.
The rogue knew the most merciful thing to do would be to grant the man's wish. Keeping him alive to play puppet to the Templars was cruel, even Varric could see that. The dwarf fidgeted, uncomfortable with the turn the night was taking. Anders stepped up to his friend, taking the knife Hawke offered, and slipped it into Karl, feeling hot blood wash over his hand.
"Let's go before more Templars show up," he stated dispassionately, turning to leave his friend's body on the floor of the Chantry, away from the fallen mage-hunters. Hawke grabbed Bethany's hand and dragged her away as swiftly as Anders left.
She was grateful for the new moon, providing no extra light. That made it significantly harder for any nighttime passersby to notice how she and her companions were splattered with blood. Again.
They followed Anders all the way back down to his clinic in Darktown, not even daring to utter a single word. Even Varric, who was usually quite chatty, held his tongue, knowing that there was a time and a place for words, but this was not one of them.
The healer finally turned to face them, once they were within the confines of his clinic, looking scared and guilty. "That wasn't normal magic you just did, was it?" Hawke asked with a gentle note to her voice, letting him know that she wasn't accusing or attacking him.
"I... This is hard to explain." He shifted uncomfortably, but still made sure to look the rogue in the eyes, a gesture she appreciated. "When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice, who was trapped outside the Fade. We became friends, and he recognized the injustice that mages in Thedas face every day." Hawke felt Bethany tense up next to her.
"What does this have to do with your eyes glowing?" Hawke's sharp ears detected the tiniest of laughs escaping the dwarf's throat.
"To live outside the Fade, he needed a host. I offered to help him. We were going to work together, to bring justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle. But... I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me, he... Changed."
"That didn't really look like a happy, benevolent spirit from where I was standing." Hawke felt a tiny shiver slip through her as she remembered the moment when Anders gave himself over to the spirit in the Chantry, and the rage that emanated from him.
"Since when is justice happy?" Anders retorted. "Justice is righteous. Justice is hard. I wanted to do right by Justice, I really did, but when I see Templars, things that have always outraged me, but I could never do anything about... He comes out, and he is no longer my friend, Justice. He is a force of Vengeance, and he has no grasp of mercy."
"I... Uh..." Hawke cast around for something to say, blurting the only stupid thing that crossed her already aching head, "Wow, your problems make mine seem so small!"
The mage blinked at her lack of tact while the dwarf let out an audible laugh this time, but Anders brushed it off. "Here, these are all the documents I have for this area. I can understand if you would rather me not join you personally. I cannot control my need for vengeance; I would ask no one to take on the danger of traveling with me. I will be here in my clinic if you need me."
"Thank you, Anders."
"I should be thanking you, Hawke. If you weren't there with me..."
"Don't worry about it, Blondie! Getting in and out of trouble is one of Hawke's specialties!" Varric gave the rogue an appraising grin.
The troupe turned and left, Hawke rubbing her eyes. "I think I need a drink... Or three."
"First round's on me, Hawke. I want a look at those maps!" Varric strode beside the rogue, a renewed bounce to his step. "How about you, Sunshine? You up for a pint?" Bethany shrugged, deciding that they had earned a little celebration. "How about you, Aveline?"
At this point, Hawke watched closely to see her reaction. What she saw was exactly what she had expected. The redhead looked like she was leaning toward a definite no.
"I should be back at the barracks..."
"Ave, I want you to come. I owe it to you, and you were right all along. Please?" Hawke fixed her icy blue eyes onto the other's emerald ones, giving Aveline her best puppy-dog expression. To her great pleasure, the guardswoman caved, but stated strongly that she would only have one drink. That was a statement that Hawke knew Varric was vowing to break, and she couldn't wait to see him do it.
They entered the now noisy tavern, making a beeline for the bar. Corff was about to get a little richer tonight. Hawke wanted to get so drunk that she wouldn't be able to remember this night ever again.
But something caught her eye. A group of armed men, probably mercenaries, were surrounding a woman. Her skin was far too dark to be a local, but Hawke couldn't tell where she was from. Antiva, maybe?
The woman didn't seem the least bit bothered by all the threatening and lecherous looks she was drawing from the surrounding group. Hawke couldn't find a reason to blame them for the lust in their eyes, though. A beautifully embroidered indigo scarf held her messy, chocolate curls from her face. She had rich, tan skin, eyes the color of golden whiskey complemented by heavy gold earrings, a small matching stud under her bottom lip and a massive but gorgeous gold choker.
The pendants hanging off of it dangled tantalizingly over her more than ample cleavage, not hidden in the least by the open v-neck of her white tunic. A corset to match was laced tightly up her midriff, emphasizing the presence of her bosom even more than it already was.
It took Hawke a second glance to realize that this temptress wore no pants at all. Instead, she let the length of her tunic stretch down as far as it would go, barely covering below her waist. A rich blue scarf to match the one in her hair was tied loosely around her hips, heavy leather boots adorned with multiple straps and buckles up their lengths made it half way up her thighs. Hawke watched this woman from across the room, barely aware of that fact that the rest of the patrons were doing the same.
"You owe us, Isabela," said the man who appeared to be the leader.
"Well, Lucky, I'll tell you what," came the rich voice of molten honey from the woman. She didn't even look up at him as she downed a whole mug of Corff's ale. "Since the information you cave me was worth nothing," she drank more after refilling her mug again. "That's what I'll pay you." A small smirk crossed her lips.
Lucky slammed his hand down on Isabela's mug, preventing her from drinking again. "Me and my boys will get our money's worth, bitch!"
"Oh, you poor, sweet thing," Isabela simpered, moving her face awfully close to Lucky's. But Hawke's eyes saw what she was doing, as the woman moved her hand slyly to grasp the offending man's wrist.
It happened before he even knew what was going on. Isabela yanked him forward, slamming his head into the bar twice before he slid to the floor. Hawke, Bethany and Varric were now watching the ensuing brawl with amusement, while Aveline looked on with distaste toward the riled crowd.
Isabela was quick, lithe and wasted not a single opportunity or move, but she wasn't quick enough for the rogue not to see every play she made, every way she manipulated the attacks against her to her advantage. Hawke was impressed.
Lucky finally dragged himself off of the floor, moving to draw his sword. Unfortunately for him, Isabela was too fast. One of her daggers was already at his throat, while her other hand danced around the hilt to its twin.
"Tell me, Lucky," she said in all seriousness. "Is this worth dying for?" The poor bastard at knifepoint flitted his panicked eyes from Isabela to all of his beaten men strewn about the bar. He slowly pushed his blade back into place before leaving, his battered cronies in tow.
"I didn't think so," the beauty chuckled to herself after slamming down the rest of her unspilled drink. Now Hawke had to meet this woman, and approached her casually, no longer conscious of the fact that she was still coated in quickly-browning blood.
"You're new around here, aren't you?" Isabela said, noticing the purposeful approach of the rogue and her companions. "Welcome, and keep your wits about you; you're nothing but tits and ass to the men in this place, and they won't hesitate to grab at both."
Hawke felt the heat rising in her face when she saw Isabela staring at what lay beneath her jerkin and leggings." Speaking from experience, are we?" she offered, drinking in the other woman's ample self as subtly as possible.
Isabela chuckled at the quip. "After a few broken fingers here and there, they got the idea. I'm Isabela," she said, bowing so Hawke could get another eyeful of her chest. Her face felt even hotter than before. "Previously 'Captain' Isabela. Sadly, without my ship, the title rings a bit hollow." This time, the woman's honey eyes bored into Hawke's own blue ones. "You're from Ferelden, aren't you? You have that look about you." Her eyes took another brazen trip up and down the rogue's body, and Hawke shifted self-consciously under her scrutiny.
"I was in Denerim not too long ago," the woman stated plainly. "You know, you might be just what I'm looking for to solve a little problem I have." Hawke found her mind jumping to all sorts of places that she tried to keep to only herself.
"Can't anyone fix their own lives around here?" Hawke replied with a think dollop of sarcasm, smirking at the dark-skinned beauty.
"Must be something in the water," Isabela shrugged, matching Hawke's sarcasm. "Someone from my past has been pestering me," she went on with a slightly more serious tone. "I've arranged for a duel. If I win, he leaves me alone. But I don't trust him to play fair. I need someone to watch my back."
"I think I could manage watching your back," Hawke said suggestively. Bethany giggled and she could hear Aveline scoff, knowing that the guardswoman was rolling her eyes in disgust.
Isabela laughed again. "I'll bet," she said, with a purr to her voice. I've arranged to meet Hayder in Hightown, after dark." The beauty moved to brush past Hawke, but she stopped her.
"Do you want only me, or can my friends come along?" Hawke gestured to the group standing behind her.
"That depends," Isabela mused, looking at Aveline the longest, who returned the gaze with a stiff glare. "Can they be trusted?"
Varric scoffed. "Come now, Rivaini, you know you can trust me! Bianca has had a liking for you from the start!"
"Varric, you and that beautiful crossbow can come!" Of course Varric would know Isabela, he knows everyone. Information is his trade.
"This is my sister, Bethany." Hawke gestured to the young mage, and Isabela gave her a less-than-chaste go over with her eyes, and the rogue wanted to step between them, but Bethany showed little sign of discomfort.
"And this is my friend, Aveline." The other woman returned her attention to the still glowering guard, unsure what to make of her.
"Is she going to be a problem?"
"Talk about me like that again, and I'll give you a problem!"
"Easy, Aveline. It's been a long day, and there's been enough bloodshed already." Hawke fixed her friend with another irresistible, imploring gaze. Aveline's stance relaxed a little, giving her companion a small nod.
"Ooh, it must be nice to have a member of the guard in your pocket," Isabela said, after closely watching the transaction.
"I am not a corrupt guard!" Aveline said hotly. "If you ever insinuate that I am such, I swear to Andraste, I will break you!" The guard drew herself up to her full height, bearing down on Isabela.
"Easy there, Big Girl! I was just commenting on who is clearly in charge here." Her eyes flashed to Hawke's.
"Back down, both of you!" The authority in the rogue's voice could not be mistaken. Isabela drew away, relinquishing Aveline from her taunting, but dying to see what else lay beneath the unassuming facade of the Fereldan rogue.
"C'mon, Beth. It's late, let's not keep Mother waiting." Hawke tugged at the mage's robes, heading toward the door. They entered the cool night air, the smell of tar and smoke stinging their noses. They walked side-by-side in silence, unable to find words.
"Beth," Hawke said, not meeting her sister's eyes. "I... I'm so sorry. I was so fucking stupid. You could've been-"
"Hush, Sister. It's okay. It all worked out."
"Yes, but at what cost?" Hawke glanced down at her blood-spattered armor. "How could I have been so selfish?" A tear blazed its way down her cheek. They had stopped walking by then, and both were facing each other. "We've spent so much time, keeping you safe, and I practically threw it all away just for some stupid map!"
"Marian, stop. It's not your fault. You're doing this so we can do this expedition. The money and standing we will gain from it will help protect me. You're not being selfish, Sister. Right now, you need to sleep." Hawke nodded, sniffling like a little child, allowing herself to be led back to their Lowtown shack.
They snuck in, the sound of Gamlen's snores greeting their return. Leandra was slumped in a chair beside the dying fire, a book sat crumpled at her feet. Bethany nodded, moving to rouse her mother while Hawke tread quietly to their room. She stripped out of her soiled leathers, and donned a soft, cotton sleep shift. The rogue hung her daggers on the wall, staring at the centerpiece in the dim candlelight.
Bethany padded in softly, seeing her sibling cross-legged on the dusty floor, staring up at the sword of her late brother. She walked over, gently placing a hand on Hawke's stiff shoulder. "I miss him too. Sometimes I even miss your bickering over scuffles and duels, always keeping secrets from Mother and Father." She saw a small smile touch the corner of her sister's thin mouth.
"You carry too much, Marian. Do not carry the weight of the dead."
"How can I? Bethany, it all started in blood. That's the only way any of this will end. Father, Carver, our kinsman and everything in between. It's all been marked in blood."
"It's too late to dwell on such things. Get yourself into your bed, and I'll help you fall asleep."
Those were the only occasions when Bethany truly acted as an elder sibling, and not just a little girl. She watched Hawke climb up to her bunk, and then stood on her tiptoes, placing a hand on the rogue's cheek. Her fingers lit up with soft green light, while she sang a delicate little tune under her breath.
" 'M glad that Sister Lelianna taught you to sing..." Hawke mumbled before slipping off to sleep. Bethany smiled at her sister, pulling herself up to place a kiss upon her sibling's forehead. She blew out the solitary candle and drifted off to wander among the Fade.