3

From the time that they opened the Chantry doors, it had taken exactly 30 seconds for Hayder and his men to be dispatched. Isabela had taken care of Hayder personally, landing a knife in between his eyes, while the rest of his men had died screaming, engulfed in flames.

"You're a mage?!" Isabela demanded, turning to Hawke as the last body went down.

Hawke straightened her dress and sheathed her staff. "Yes. I am. Is that a problem for you?"

"Why aren't you in the Circle?" Isabela pressed. She didn't have a problem with mages per se, but an apostate would be a target for all sorts of attention from law enforcement.

"Good question!" Carver barked, sheathing the greatsword that he'd not had the chance to use.

Hawke shrugged. "Would you want to be in the Circle? Never get to cook a meal, or walk on the beach, or kiss a boy?"

Isabela couldn't argue with that. She loved to be free. She thought of those years that she'd been forced to submit to her husband. She would never let that happen again. Yes, freedom was the most important thing of all. "No, you're right, I wouldn't. We don't have a problem here. I'm just not fond of surprises, even when they come in such a nice little package."

Hawke led the way out of the Chantry, and Isabela realised that she must have been blind before. She'd been so intent on checking out that perky rack that she'd missed what was right in front of her.

Hawke was not wearing a "pretty little green dress", she was wearing lyrium infused mage robes, and she had a whopping big steel staff strapped to her back. Isabela felt foolish for confronting her moments earlier.

"You're very powerful. Can all mages do that?" Isabela asked, trying to smooth over the tension she'd created.

"All mages have the potential to do that. But, most get sent to the Circle by the time they're 10, and the Chantry prohibits the teaching of offensive spells. Circle mages get taught healing powers, and a few defensive spells, but they'd be rubbish in a fight."

"Who taught you, then?" Isabela asked, trying to get a bearing on who this girl was.

"My father. He was like me. He insisted on teaching me and my sister how to 'kick arse,' as he called it, before he taught us anything else. He died a few years ago, so I never learned the healing arts."

Isabela fell into step with Hawke, leaving Carver trailing behind. "I'm sorry about your father. You have a sister? Does she look like you? I don't know if I could handle there being two Hawke girls running around Thedas."

Hawke laughed sadly. "She was Carver's twin, but everyone said that Carver and I looked much more alike. I suppose Bethany favoured father, while Carver and I favour our mother. Beth and I had the same hair and lips, though. And we were the same size, so we always stole each other's clothes."

Isabela took note of the use of past tense, but wasn't sure whether to pry or not. The Hawke's were Ferelden Blight refugees after all, so it was more than possible that the sister didn't make it to Kirkwall.

"She's dead" Carver shot out from behind them.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, sweet thing" Isabela cooed to Hawke.

"That's kind of you. Thank you" the mage said, keeping her eyes trained on the pavement.

"An ogre smashed her into the ground" Carver added unhelpfully.

"Yes, thank you Carver. Your sensitivity when retelling the worst moment of our lives is touching," Hawke grumbled over her shoulder at him.

"What? At least I don't blame you for it, like mother does."

Hawke shot Isabela an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry, my brother was raised by dogs apparently, for all the manners he has. I'm sure you really don't want to be privy to our dramatic family discussions."

"It's okay, sweet thing, we all have our problems…" Isabela said thoughtfully, as she looked up at the cloud filled night sky.