Hey, thanks for sticking with the story! It's been strange coming back to a fic I started so long ago, so any feedback is welcome. Please read and review.

...

Hawke sucked in a shallow breath. The swelling beneath her reminded her that she was on a ship, although she had obviously fallen asleep since they had boarded. The salt stung at her nostrils, but she couldn't say the cool air was unwelcome. However, when the voices just beyond her bed came in to focus, she couldn't restrain the groan. Honestly, it felt like it was only yesterday that she had been listening to the same familiar bickering in the Deep Roads… and Fenris wasn't even here.

"You don't need to be here." Anders argued, "I am more than capable of caring for Hawke."

"Of course, I do!" Alistair countered. "You have a terrible bed side manner."

The healer clearly took a moment and Hawke could well imagine the bewildered expression that was likely written across his face. "…You can't have a 'bedside manner' when someone's asleep."

Alistair gave a huff of indignation. "Well not with that attitude…"

"Hawke is awake." She rasped out. "And she could do with something for this head ache."

"Some water should help." Alistair offered, as her eyes opened she could see him pour some liquid into a tankard.

"And some quiet." She smirked, as she struggled to sit up. To her surprise, the pain did not come. Certainly, some aches and strains, but no crunching bones or sickening agony. She smiled to herself, sucking in a deeper breath than she thought she would have been able to. She felt it leave her chest before taking the tankard gratefully. The water wasn't cold, but it was wet and soothing as it slipped down her throat.

She sucked in a few gasps of air once the cup was empty. She licked at her chapped lips and winced when she felt the dry skin pull at the broken flesh underneath.

"How are you feeling?" She felt Alistair's hand rest on her shoulder. But instead of turning to face him, her eyes instead rested with the mage who stood at the foot of her bed, vial in hand smiling at her with relief.

"Not as well as Anders, apparently." She couldn't help but return his gaze with what she imagined was the same expression. She couldn't fight the sigh. "I'm so glad you're alright." Without thinking she peeled back the sheets and pushed herself to her feet. She fought the sharp intake of breath as her knees shook and her legs threatened to give out beneath her, Alistair caught her, steadying her, but right beside him was Anders. His hand on her other shoulder. She pushed herself forward into the mage's arms, her arms wrapped firmly around his neck. The swordswoman felt his embrace cradle around her back and he pulled her to her feet. Hawke sensed Alistair back off slightly, settling back down in to his chair.

Hawke was well aware that she had probably hurt his feelings.

But her relief at seeing her friend looking alive… Maker! He even looked well. Far better than she probably did. It made she remember how he had reached out to her from the ground. His face filled with anguish. And she hadn't even been able to reach back.

Knowing that he was there, before her.

The relief was almost overwhelming.

Ander's head buried in her neck. "I thought you were dead."

"So did I." She laughed lightly into his shoulder.

"I couldn't do anything to stop it. I couldn't…" She felt his arms wrap around her tighter and heard tears threaten. She felt a familiar wince but fought it back. She felt the urge to well up as well but she fought that back too. The time for tears was over. She had spent enough time crying.

Instead she took hold of his shoulders and pushed him back. So they were facing each other though his arms still supported her. His eyes were misty, filled with pain. Hawke felt a surge of guilt. It hadn't been his fault, it had been hers.

"We didn't know what we were dealing with, now we do. We're going to go and find our friends… and her and we're going to show her why she shouldn't have messed with us."

"But…"

"I'd be dead without you, Anders." She squeezed his shoulders more firmly. "You saved my life."

He sniffed but nodded. Hawke watched a steeliness return to his eyes and he looked back at her with quite a different expression. One of determination. His hands went to her shoulders in return. He returned his smile. "You always know what to say to me."

"What friends are for." She gave him another hug for a few moments.

Anders light laugh rumbled in his chest. "Well, now I know that you're awake and alright, I'd better check in on Isabella. She wasn't exactly in the best condition…"

"So I saw," Hawke grunted out as she was sat back down on the bed. "How is she?"

She was relieved to see Anders roll his eyes and smirk. "If you ask her, she'll claim she loved every second."

The blonde chuckled. "Of course, she did. But back in the real world?"

The smirk faded slightly to an expression of irritation. "None of her injuries were particularly life threatening. But saying that, the sheer amount of them and how deep some were… if she hadn't gotten out of where they were holding her when she did, I'm fairly certain she wouldn't have survived much longer. And before you ask, Merrill is all but recovered and as for myself… my injuries were superficial. A few broken bones, wounded pride, but nothing internal. Now… if you will excuse me…" He cast his eyes down to where the ex-Templar still sat beside Hawke's bed, his chin rested on his armoured hands, trying in vain to pretend he wasn't listening to the conversation.

Hawke followed his gaze. The Warden-King's eyes flickered up once he sensed a silence, though quickly returned to the spot he had been fixating on. Hawke smirked. She nodded up to Anders who gave her a meaningful look before he left the room.

The door clicked behind him, leaving Hawke and Alistair alone in the creaky cabin. Despite them being closer than they had been in years, the distance between them had never seemed so far.

The last time she had seen him, Alistair had asked her to return to Ferelden with him. He had kissed her… shortly followed by him receiving his second black eye of the trip. Hawke winced remembering that. At the time, he had laughed at her wide-eyed shock and her red-faced apologies, nursing his swollen face all the while. Then he had left.

She had observed as the boat set sail, him watching her and her watching him as he shrank into the distance. Wondering all the while if she had made the right decision.

When she had returned to her mansion and found Fenris there, waiting for her. She knew that she had… well, she thought she had at the time.

Then Fenris had walked out, and never seemed to have looked back. In spite of several occasions that made her think their relationship, as short as it had been, could be rekindled, it always proved a false hope. But it was always a hope she had held close, never wanting to set it down or put it away.

Yet now, here was someone who had cared for her, and someone who had never made her doubt that.

He took her hands, breaking her from her thoughts. Her eyes flew up almost in shock to meet his earnest gaze looking in to her own. A gaze that somehow seemed no different than it had all those years ago.

Fenris. Sebastian. Varric.

She pulled her hand from his, her eyes dropped for a moment. She needed to focus. "Let's save the heartfelt reunion for later. We need to make plans. You've been to Starkhaven before, right?" She looked up to see him smiling softly. She couldn't help but feel comforted.

"Of course." He nodded, as he sat upright.

…..

Sebastian closed his eyes, willing his stomach to steady. The roar of the waves beyond the vessel was almost deafening… but certainly not as irritating as the misted water that would regularly splash in through the grate near the ceiling. He could tune out the rhythm of the wave after a time, but when the cold wet slopped in it always shocked him from whatever sleep he could snatch.

He instinctively knew where they were going. Even if the presence of the Flint Company hadn't been evidence enough; the tilt of the boat, the fierceness of the wind and the chill it brought with it.

He was going home.

He didn't know how he felt about that.

His first thought was to recall the hills, the breath-taking view of the mountains beyond the city… the bleak and raw beauty as the sea crashed into the rocks. How bracing the cold, fresh wind felt tugging at his clothes and skin as he rode bare-backed along the coast of the land he grew up in… and that was the same air he breathed now.

On the other hand, he had vowed never to return. His life was with the Chantry now, he had devoted himself, his soul to the Maker. He had promised Elthina, even asserted that devotion when faced with her doubts.

And yet just hearing those familiar gusts beyond that wooden wall… he could feel his heart be swept away by them and it made him ache for his homeland.

He felt a little cold when he remembered the jealousy that had churned watching his perfect older brother. Every woman fawning upon him, every lord clapping his back… and perhaps worst of all, the way Mother and Father had embraced him so warmly. Every night they welcomed his older brothers to the table, leaving Sebastian on the outside watching them. He had turned to drink, to disorder in his loneliness. He couldn't in all honesty say he had had a bad childhood. But… some memories were more favourable than others.

Happy memories of the city came flooding back, filling his mind's eye and warming his cold bones.

The parades in the streets in the summer, the flowers that fell like rain from the windows as young maids danced brightly with their ribbons.

The games they held in the fields beyond, even when it was too wet to walk, let alone run.

The parties they held in the castle, the way their guests had twirled and swayed listening to the rousing music, their bodies casting shadows against the stone walls in the candlelight, the way the hall was fit to bursting with laughter and every goblet was full. He felt a smile pull at his lips.

He sighed. He had made his choice. Why was he now second-guessing himself? It's not like he hadn't thought about it enough already.

He'd almost forgotten he wasn't alone when a deep voice cut into his thoughts. "Sooooo… Choir Boy… is this accommodation better or worse than the last place you were kept in?"

Sebastian gave the dwarf a stern look, obvious even in the gloom of their shadowy, wooden cell. "I'm glad you see the funny side of this." He grunted. "Something you and Isabella have in common."

"Hehehehe…" Varric's laugh rumbled through the shadows. "Let me guess… the chains?"

In spite of their bleak situation, Sebastian couldn't fight the smirk. "Nothing if not predictable in her unpredictability."

"Rivaini is an enigma… albeit a straight forward one…" His voice faded, it became almost wistful. "I hope she got away…"

Although days of being held in chains and miserable cells had done nothing but erode his mood, Sebastian could sense his friend's worry. Although he couldn't stretch out his arm because of his shackles, he nudged Varric with his boot. "If she didn't, she'd be chained up beside us."

"You're right… speaking of being 'chained up beside us', where do you think they took the Elf?" If anything his voice became even more taught.

Sebastian sighed, not quite knowing what to say. He honestly had no idea. They had all been blindfolded when pulled from their 'quarters' at the docks, when they had been pushed into their new abode for the foreseeable future, Fenris was nowhere to be seen.

"Damn…" the merchant cursed. "I knew there was something about that woman I didn't like…"

Sebastian laughed drily. "Which one? The one who betrayed you or the one who came in to gloat that she had beaten Hawke to a bloody pulp?"

"Bullshit." Varric spat. "You saw the state of her. Hawke always gives as good as she gets, and if that psycho is still walking around… so is Hawke."

"So… which one…?"

"Can't say I care for either of them. But the one that betrayed me and the Elf in particular."

"I must say, I'm surprised you let your guard down. A rare thing… for either of you."

Varric growled out the sigh. "I know… maybe that's why it pisses me off so damn much. We thought we had this. How long has it been since we've met an enemy we couldn't beat by sheer grit and wit? Sure... a few scratches here, a few bruises there… nothing Blondie couldn't fix with a click of his fingers… We've grown complacent… we thought we were untouchable and we were wrong."

It was Sebastian's turn to grunt. "I fear that you are not to blame here, Varric. It was my hubris that led us all to this."

Varric gave a dry laugh. "Not arguing with you there, Choir Boy… out of curiosity, what's so damn important about that stone…?"

Sebastian sighed heavily, it was one of Starkhaven's greatest secrets, but he knew that secrets were of little comfort when carried to the grave. "How's your history, Varric?"

"My history? My dear Sebastian, I prefer to live in the here and now…"

The archer shot the dwarf a strained expression. "So poor then…?"

"History is written by the victors, Choir Boy, and more often than not the victors are arrogant, self-serving pricks…"

"I would have thought a story teller such as yourself would see the art in that?"

It was the merchant's turn to wear an irritated expression. "I embellish… they make shit up."

Sebastian grunted. "Fine. You know of the Qunari invasion of the Free Marches, correct?"

"The one that brought Kirkwall to its knees? I know of it…"

"But Starkhaven didn't fall… don't you find that curious?"

"Never crossed my mind… all the damn mages were laying waste to Kirkwall… I think your people got off easy…"

"There were Saarebas at Starkhaven… but our Circle had come up with a weapon to counter their magics…"

Varric gave him a grave look, one that let Sebastian know he was taking in every word and taking it seriously. "I don't believe your family included that in the history books."

"The First Enchanter gifted the stone to the first family so that his flock would not be forced to the front lines. A stone that nullified magic… each ruler has been gifted with one of these stones since… my father… he held the last one…"

"So why go to the trouble of going after you if they already had this weapon?"

Sebastian sucked in a breath. "Because they need my blood to properly activate it. As I said, my father was the last one to be gifted with one of the stones… Only Vael blood can awaken it."

It took a few moments for Varric to respond, and when he did, Sebastian could tell the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on the merchant's shoulders… as it did on his own… "And once its awoken?"

"It devours all magic. I have heard tell of mages who were never able to cast a spell again. It severs them from the Fade."

"… geez, Choir Boy… that's some heirloom…"

"That's why I can't risk it falling into the wrong hands… if the Maker truly meant for mages to walk among us, His will should be honoured."

Varric sniffed before resting his back against the wooden wall behind him. "Let's just hope that Blondie doesn't decide to wear it as a necklace… I don't think 'Justice' would approve…"

….

It didn't take long for Hawke to find Isabella, the pirate was looking out at the vast expanse of ocean beyond, the endless water seemingly running to meet the starry night sky. Memories of being crammed in to the boat from Ferelden returned to the swordswoman, she wasn't quite sure why… this ship was much grander… and there were considerably fewer people on board… yet still she remembered Bethany's grey hue from the sea sickness, Aveline's stifled tears… leaving behind not only her country but the man she loved who she would never hold again… her mother's quiet sobs as she pretended not to mourn Carver…

She had always been strong, her mother. Hawke had joked more than once about Leandra having a stick up her arse and that's how she stayed so upright all the time, but she had really known better. Her mother had one of the strongest spines the Maker had ever… well… made

"Are you just going to stand there looking sorry for yourself? Or are you going to come over here and have some rum?" The Rivaini turned to face her friend. "You look like shit by the way…

Hawke chuckled, making her way to the pirate. She accepted the flask and took a swig, the cuts around her still swollen lips almost making her wince. The strength of the drink nearly made her gasp, but she forced it down, the warmth that spread inside her was a welcome relief from the chill of the wind. "Missing the sea?"

Isabella gave her a strained look as she took the flask back. "I think my veins are full of salt water."

"Tell that to that cut on your forehead..."

"You're one to talk." Isabella countered immediately. "I thought you were dead more than once."

"I'm not claiming to contain sea water instead of blood."

The Rivaini laughed. "No, I suppose you're not. But yes, I miss it. It's like coming home… but knowing that you will have to leave. It's like setting yourself down after a fight that's made you ache… but you know that there's another battle mere moments away… and you're wondering if the rest is just making you not want to move even though you know you have to…" The dark haired woman gave Hawke a smile. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to be Varric… that's my rhetoric done for now."

"… will you leave? Once Castillon's been dealt with?"

Isaella snorted. "Depends on you, my fine friend. Someone's got to make sure you get up again."

"There are plenty of people…" Hawke began her protest.

"Varric is too busy trying to work out how to spin the details in to a story, Kitten isn't exactly reliable in a fight, Aveline's been preoccupied with being Guard Captain and riding her man, Sebastian's too distracted thanking the Maker for the shitty hand he's been dealt, Anders is desperately trying to get you to notice those big puppy eyes he wears whenever you're around and Fenris…"

Hawke felt herself stiffen. "What about Fenris?"

Isabella took a sip from her flask before answering. "Honestly Hawke? I think he'd die for you. But being dead doesn't exactly lend itself to making sure you're alright."

Hawke felt the blush creep across her cheeks. Embarrassment that the pirate had seemed to notice much more than she gave her credit for. "I've got Alistair and Bethany." She answered pettily.

"Bethany goes back to the Circle as soon as we get back to Kirkwall… and when Cullen decides he's had quite enough of kissing her face off…" Isabella passed her the flask back.

Hawke couldn't hide the grin. "What? I didn't realise they were that close…"

"You're not to blame. You were unconscious most of the time…"

"But she didn't say anything…" Hawke took a sip.

"What do you expect? Her tongue has been otherwise occupied." Hawke nearly laughed up her drink, her humour coming out as splutters and gasps for air. The Rivaini clapped her on the back in assistance. "Perhaps I missed my calling, I should go in to comedy… Maker knows I'm a piss poor pirate."

The swordswoman cleared her throat and took another sip before passing the rum over. "You know that's not true…"

"I don't know of many in my trade who'd have let their cargo walk away…"

"There's no one like you." The blonde agreed. "But maybe that's why you're the first pirate I've come across that I've not murdered shortly after meeting them…"

Isabella laughed coarsely. "I suppose that's true… silver linings and all that… though I think you came pretty close after that whole Relic business…"

"You came back."

Isabella rolled her eyes. "I did… I'm still kicking myself about that… just like I imagine you're doing…"

Hawke blinked. "I am?"

"You have a King willing to risk life and limb for you… and you chose Fenris, so…"

Hawke licked a particularly nagging cut on her lip, though it did little to ease the stinging. She didn't care for the observation, she knew where this was going… but she supposed she had earned the scorn in the Rivaini's voice. "And?"

Her friend rolled her eyes in response, a smile tugging at her lips. "And nothing. I'm the last person who would ever judge you for thinking with your heart over your head. I let those people go remember? I knew I'd be hunted for it. I knew there would be a price on my head. I knew I'd probably never set sail again… but I did it anyway. Because it was what was right."

Hawke smiled, the wounds tugging all the while. "Hearts… who needs them?"

"You should try telling that to your sister… 'the Mage and the Templar'… Varric wouldn't be able to contain himself…"

Hawke groaned. "I'd rather not think about…"

"I imagine it would be an epic romance…. with plenty of smut, of course."

The blonde smirked. "It's always smut with you, isn't it?" She sighed, leaning against the wooden barrier in front.

The pirate shrugged. "We all have our vices… I get up to all sorts of nefarious activities… you make bad decisions and then blame yourself… and Merrill turns up at the worst times when she will have no context for what we're talking about."

Hawke twisted to see the elf looking wide eyed and a bit taken aback. She hadn't heard her approach, but the swordswoman knew that that was more likely a reflection on her injuries than Merrill's stealth. "I heard something about 'smut'." The Dalish ventured, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

The Rivaini smiled. "All the context you need. Come and have some rum, Kitten."

Hawke was relieved to see the elf looked well, her blush lent a colour to her cheeks, the warm clothes wrapped around her made her seem more equipped foe the chill than either of her comrades. "I brought you some blankets. The wind is cold." She parroted almost dumbly, handing one to Hawke, though Isabella shook her head at the offering.

"More for me." The blonde added cheerily, wrapping the second one around her shoulders. "So where's the stone? If Sebastian's going to try and kill us for losing it, I might lose interest in rescuing him…" She took another swig from the offered flask.

The dark haired mage grinned. "Oh don't you worry. I've taken care of that personally."

As much as the elf may have been trying to inspire confidence, it did little but rouse Hawke's uneasiness. "You have?"

The mage nodded. "It was crying, Hawke, I couldn't concentrate on healing Anders because it was sobbing…" Hawke felt a chill run down her spine and she sensed Isabella stiffen. Merrill quite often heard things her fellow mages couldn't due to her connection with the Fade… and it rarely heralded anything good.

"What was it crying about, Merrill?" Hawke asked.

"I could sense its tears, not its purpose. I daresay the Keeper would have a better idea than me… but Bethany and Anders were struggling to cast, so I dealt with it the only way I knew how…"

Hawke swallowed. If she'd destroyed it not only was Sebastian going to be angry, but they had lost their only leverage… "What did you do with it, Merrill?"

The elf leaned forward as if frightened anyone might overhear her brilliance, a smug smile tugging at her lips. "I put it… in a box…"

"A box?" Isabella repeated flatly.

Hawke fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Truly, Merrill, your genius knows no bounds."

The elf sensed the sarcasm, which was enough to surprise Hawke in itself, but the way she frowned and stood upright was also not something she was used to from Merrill. "It's not just any box, please give me some credit… it's a box I took from the Clan… it's from the days of the old ways. Sometimes the elves found or made things that were not supposed to be this side of the Fade, the box is enchanted… it seals away the Fade."

"You took this from the Keeper?" The Rivaini asked sceptically.

"Sort of." The elf replied, now wearing the slightly flustered expression Hawke was used to. "It was already mine… but I was only supposed to get it once I became the Keeper…"

"I wonder if we could fit you into one of those boxes." Anders voice cut in. He had left the cabin, his shadow casting a long darkness across the deck of the ship. Hawke noticed he was trying to mask a limp, though not very successfully. He leaned against his staff as if it were a walking stick rather than a weapon.

If Merrill sensed the joke, Hawke couldn't tell. "Don't be silly, Anders… it's far too small… besides, if I had been in the box I wouldn't have been able to heal you, would I?"

The blonde mage gave an aggravated sigh. "Do you listen to yourself when you speak?" He came to a halt in front of them. Hawke helped him down on to a wooden crate so he could rest, he huffed his relief in grunts and groans.

"Of course I do." Merrill bit back.

"You wouldn't think so." The healer gave a weary smile to the blonde. "You should be resting."

"Right back at you." She rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't think you appreciate how close you came to dying." He took her hand in his own, his expression almost pleading.

"I'm sure she does." Merrill chimed. "I mean… she still looks awful…"

Hawke's aching face did not help her resist the scowl aimed at the elf. "Why thank you, Merrill."

Isabella snorted a laugh before wrapping her arm around the elven mage's shoulders. "Come on, Kitten, I think these two need to talk." She steered Merrill back towards the cabin.

Hawke called after them. "Actually, could you ask everyone to gather in the kitchen? I think we all need to make a plan about when we arrive in Starkhaven." Isabella's eyes drifted to where Anders was hunched over. "We won't be long." The blonde added, as if reading her thoughts.

The door clicked shut behind them, and other than a few crewman busying about their own tasks, she and Anders were alone.

"I'm sorry." She blurted out before he could say anything.

"You're sorry? I don't know what you've got to be sorry for."

"You're hurt… if I'd been…"

"If you'd been what? If you'd been omniscient? If you'd been a fortune teller? If you'd been the Maker himself? I know you like blaming yourself for these things… but I'm afraid on this occasion you don't get to."

"We've fought enough mages before… if I'd…"

"Enough of the 'ifs'…" The healer all but growled. "I'm alive… so are you… that's what matters…"

"I couldn't reach out to you…" Hawke heard her voice tighten as tears threatened. She fought it back. The time for tears was done. "That's what I wanted to do in my last moment." Her tone hardened. "To reach out to you, and I couldn't even lift my arm…"

"Watching her beat you…" Anders interrupted, "watching her punch you and kick you and make you bleed… that was worse than anything she did to me. I have never known such pain and anger as I felt there and then."

"I'm sorry… I should have…"

"You should have what?" Anders' tone had developed a cool edge which made Hawke take pause. She was used to his gentle tone, his kind voice, his unwavering loyalty… yet somehow he seemed harder, a glint in his eye made her wonder how much of 'Justice' she was seeing right now. "You couldn't move. You fought in spite of that because you were a soldier… you're a fighter… you saved both of us while I couldn't do a damn thing. And now you're apologising to me? Just stop it… you're punishing yourself… and you're causing me more pain…"

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. The motion made several of her ribs shift. She ignored it. "I'm sorry" She mumbled into his shirt. "I never meant to cause you pain."

She felt his laughter rumble in his chest as his arms wrapped around her in return. "My dear Hawke, that isn't the first time you've broken my heart."