Marian leaned on the ship's railing and watched Kirkwall fall into the distance behind her.
She could see the smoke still rising from the ruins of the Chantry and from the fighting in the streets and the Gallows.
She had fought so hard to make a home and now she was on the road again, fleeing Kirkwall and all the nightmares it had brought her. What had she really won in Kirkwall? A home? In flames. Safety for her family? All lost. Freedom for herself? Tenuous at best. Love?
Her hand trembled with the memory of what love had brought her. A dagger thrust.
Isabela came to lean next to her, putting a hand over hers to still its tremble.
Marian stretched her lips in an approximation of a smile. "Do you ever think that it would be better to be able to take a potion and forget everything?" she asked, looking down at the water swirling out in the ship's wake.
Isabela squeezed her hand. "Do you think that helped Fenris?"
"No, but…."
"But you're different, right?"
Hawke nodded. "It's…."
"Worse?"
She nodded again.
Isabela kissed her cheek and stood up. "No. Because then I'd have to forget you."