It took them a long time to make it back to Kirkwall. Fenris and Evelyn were slowed by their wounds, Bethany wearied by all the healing she'd had to perform. Isabela walked with Bethany the whole way, her arm around the mage's waist. Evelyn tried to pretend it didn't bother her to see the pirate with her sister. Not that she didn't love Isabela like family—she did—but she didn't trust her not to break Bethany's heart, and Bethany had had enough of that.
Fenris gave a muffled groan at a missed step, and Evelyn put her own arm around him. She couldn't help the thought that her distrust of Isabela where Bethany was concerned was probably a mirror of how Bethany felt about Fenris.
"Hawke, do you feel it was wise to leave the tower unguarded?" Fenris asked, breaking into her thoughts.
"What choice did we have? Would you have wanted to be left behind watching over the Grey Wardens' secrets?"
He shook his head, wincing with the movement.
"Didn't think so."
"When we get back to Kirkwall, I'll send a message to Nathaniel Howe in Amaranthine," Varric said. "He seemed decent enough, as Wardens go."
"I wrote him after … to tell him about Anders and to apologize for allowing it to happen."
"Wasn't your fault, Hawke," Isabela said softly.
"Howe didn't agree. He charitably took some of the blame for the Wardens, but made it clear he thought my judgement where Anders was concerned was questionable. I don't disagree."
This was well-argued territory, and the rest of them left it alone.
"Will you tell him about Father?" Bethany asked.
Hawke sighed. "I might as well. Chances are there are some sort of records the Wardens have access to and he'd find out anyway."
"I can't believe Father let himself be manipulated that way. Blood magic …" Bethany shuddered.
Evelyn said nothing. She hoped that if she didn't continue the conversation, Bethany would let it go. Their father had done what he had to do; charged with protecting his wife and unborn child, he had had to put his principles and his deeply held beliefs aside. The blood magic chilled Bethany to the bone because of her own magic—but she would never understand what it was like to have to sacrifice for your family's needs. That burden had passed to Evelyn when their father died; she understood why there had been no other choice. Old resentments bubbled up inside her, thinking of all the times she'd fought for her sister to be protected, all the things she might have done and the places she might have gone had her sister not been a mage. Or not been so helpless.
"It is in the past," Fenris said quietly into her ear. "Allow it to remain there."
"Fine words coming from you," she said, and they exchanged a smile.
The sun gleamed off the white walls of Hightown in the distance.
"Almost there," Varric said. They were on a main road, at last, along with other travelers heading into the city.
Bethany looked uncomfortable, her eyes on the ground in front of her. They all knew that as soon as they got back, she would be returned to the Tower and interrogated about her experiences, to make certain she hadn't become either an abomination or a blood mage during her absence from the Gallows. The freedom to travel unsupervised, to a limited extent, was hers as Senior Enchanter … but trust was no more a part of the Templars' vocabulary than it had ever been.
"So, cupcake," Isabela said softly, surprised to hear the huskiness in her own voice. She paused, taking a breath, trying to sound casual. "They let you out much?"
"Not really, no." Bethany's cheeks were pink and she didn't lift her eyes from the ground.
"They let you keep your windows unlocked?"
"Yes, but the tower is—"
"Way less slippery than a mainmast in a gale, and doesn't move around so much. Mind some company once in a while?"
"Mind?" The cheeks were apple red now, and Isabela could feel her own body reacting to the mage's thoughts, which were all too obvious. "No, I wouldn't say 'mind', exactly. I think … I'd like that." Bethany's words were little more than a whisper, so Isabela had to lean in close to hear them. So close that she couldn't help brushing her lips against that soft, smooth cheek.
"See you soon, cupcake."
"Let it go," Fenris whispered in Hawke's ear. "Your sister's happiness is no longer your responsibility, and has not been for a long time."
"I know that," she said with a sigh, drawing her gaze away from the intimate discussion between the two women. "But you grow up taking care of someone, and you find yourself being told often enough that that person is helpless and delicate and in need of your strength … and then you see that isn't true anymore, and you wonder what your role is now that you're not needed any longer."
He took her hand in both of his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing her fingers. "You are, most definitely, needed. Perhaps not by your sister, but by others. By me." He hesitated. "Is it … approaching the time when you might be ready to try something new?"
"You mean something other than being the Champion of Kirkwall."
Fenris nodded. "I have to confess that our recent adventure has increased my weariness. I do not want to watch you fight evil creatures any longer, to worry every time I see your sword come down from the wall that I will lose you. I cannot bear the thought."
"You're not going to lose me, Fenris."
"No? Because we were both incapacitated in the fight with Corypheus. Had it not been for our friends—"
"Where do I ever go without a retinue of devoted friends?" Hawke asked.
Fenris smiled briefly, but without particular amusement. "Someday you may wish to do so."
She squeezed his fingers. "I'd rather die fighting at your side than safely in a chair without you."
His eyebrows flew up. "Are those the only options?"
"They were the first two that came to mind."
Fenris sighed, letting go of her hand. "I take it that today is not that day."
"If I thought I could go on living in Kirkwall without being the Champion, I would quit tomorrow, Fenris," she said, keeping pace with him as he continued walking. "But I don't think I can … and I'm not ready to leave my home. Bethany still needs me to watch over her, and …"
He turned on her, his green eyes blazing. "How much longer will you continue to hide behind a promise given decades ago to a dying man, on behalf of a woman who has proven time and again that she is perfectly competent to live her own life? Do you believe Bethany is still cowering behind you, waiting for her big sister to battle her demons for her? Surely Anders put an end to that idea once and for all."
Hawke sighed. "Possibly it should have. Probably," she amended as he scowled. "But a lifetime's worth of training is hard to let go of."
"Surely the truth about your father—"
"What truth?" she interrupted, her voice hard. "That he was blackmailed into performing blood magic, tempting demons, by the Grey Wardens? That he must have spent the rest of his life tormented by those same demons, and that he never once slipped and let a demon have a toehold inside him, that truth? That only makes me admire him more. He did what he had to do for his family; I have done the same for as long as I could hold a sword."
"And you do not believe your sister has that same strength."
Evelyn froze, staring at him. He was right; she had always seen Bethany as weak, delicate, easily broken. "Yes." She bit her lip. "Ironic, isn't it, that you have a greater appreciation for my sister's true strength than I do?"
"Not ironic; you are very close to the situation. You see in your sister an infant, a toddler, a small child having tantrums and being frightened by childish things. I have only ever known her as a woman, who is, despite her magic, every bit as formidable as her sister." He reached for Evelyn's hand, a smile lighting his eyes. "I also see in you a vulnerability to match that which you perceive in Bethany. It is very much part of your charm." He drew her closer, his voice dropping. "Particularly because I appear to be the only person you allow to glimpse and soothe that vulnerability. I am aware of the implicit compliment, and of the responsibility it carries."
Evelyn smiled as well, resting her head against his shoulder. "You're welcome."
"Hey, Broody and Hawke," Varric called from far ahead—they hadn't even noticed they'd stopped walking and the others had kept going. "Let's go home."
Hawke glanced at Fenris, who nodded. She took his hand, feeling his slim, strong fingers entwine with hers, and she smiled. "Coming, Varric."
A/N: Thank you for reading! If you're interested in more of Fenris and Hawke's adventures, they continue in "A Long Way to Go," which covers the events of "Mark of the Assassin", and in "A Future to Be Had"; or you can go back to the beginning with "At Your Side."