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The four of them—Hawke, Varric, Aveline, and Sebastian—made their way through the darkened streets of Lowtown. Hawke braced herself for the inevitable merc band to jump out at them, but it didn't happen. Apparently she had cleaned Kirkwall out. She couldn't decide if she felt pride in a job well done, or if she thought that meant it was time for her to move on.
As she and Sebastian walked silently together, she heard Aveline's voice behind her. "How are you with endings, Varric?"
"Traditionally, not great—I prefer to just keep going—but I'm expecting some practical experience fairly soon." His voice was uncharacteristically serious.
So. He could feel it, too, that something was drawing to an end, that they were getting ever closer to the moment they'd been putting off all this time. Hawke wondered what he expected to happen.
Aveline was quiet for a moment, only the jingle of her armor in the silence of the dark streets. Then: "Make it a good one, will you?"
"For you, madam," Varric said gently, "endless sunsets and roses."
"Varric."
He chuckled. "All right. And the swift hand of the law sweeping all aside. I thought that went unsaid."
Aveline laughed with him. "You're incorrigible."
"One of my many charms."
The docks were silent, too, as Hawke and her team came down the stone stairs. They passed the darkened complex where the Qunari had squatted for such a long time. Hawke never came by here without shivering. It felt haunted. If not by the ghosts of dead Qunari—did Qunari leave ghosts?—then by the ghost of the person she used to be, before the duel, before the Champion, when she had … hope.
"So," Varric said, looking around them. "Let's see what you require of your guards."
"Listen," Sebastian said suddenly. "Do you hear that?"
Somewhere ahead of them, a fight was going on. The distinctive clash of metal on metal, the twang of bowstrings, the grunt of someone getting hit.
To her credit, Aveline didn't wince or seem at all concerned about Donnic's safety. She merely drew her sword and charged, and the rest of them followed her.
Donnic was legitimately hard pressed. There was a whole band of mercs surrounding him, keeping him trapped near the door of a factory. But he held them at bay, taking them out a bit at a time, nimbly dodging arrows.
Hawke's team came in and scattered the mercs like so many ninepins. There seemed to be more assailants joining the fray every minute for a while, but between the five of them, they prevailed. Some of the mercs went limping off into the darkness, a few were too wounded to walk and would become Aveline's prisoners, and one or two would never rise again.
Donnic joined them with a smile for Aveline and a cordial nod for the rest of them. "Serah Hawke," he said in his formal way. "Or is it always Champion now? You are too much of a chameleon."
She had never been able to convince him that he should call her Mina, since she was old and good friends with his wife. Donnic's reserve was such that she wondered sometimes if he referred to Aveline as "Guard Captain" in bed. But if he did, clearly Aveline liked it that way, so Hawke accepted him gladly, formality and all.
"I didn't expect to find you so deep in bandits."
"A good day, to be sure. I'll be sore tomorrow—but it was my choice." He looked at Aveline in concern. "Tell me what's going on?"
"Cullen claims he's heard reports that Aveline coddles her men," Hawke explained.
"Aveline? Coddle?" If Donnic were anyone else, Hawke had the impression he would have doubled over in laughter at the idea. Instead, he shook his head. "Hardly."
"It's all right," Aveline told him. "Go ahead. Explain to them."
Donnic stood at attention. "Every guard chooses the patrol they want. My wife promotes from the bold, not the reckless. Action is up; casualties are down. It is … remarkable." He looked at her and smiled. "As are you, love."
Aveline's face turned as red as her hair. She closed her eyes and nodded briefly. "Thank you. That will do."
"I'll continue my patrol, then."
"I'll handle the prisoners."
"Another time, Serah Hawke. Safe travels." With a final courteous nod for Hawke and the others, and a quick, searching look and an exchanged smile with Aveline, Donnic moved off into the darkness of the docks.
"That should be sufficient," Aveline said with some pride. "Take that to the Templar."
"Indeed," Hawke agreed. "Let's go talk to Cullen tomorrow, see who's been spreading these rumors—and what they hoped to accomplish with them."
"They will not put me out of my position without a fight, Hawke."
"No, they won't. I'll back you as far as my influence goes. Which is reasonably far still with Meredith, and quite extensive with the residents of the city."
"You could be Viscount. Have you ever thought of that?" Aveline asked as they trussed up their prisoners.
"No. I refuse to let them make this city my problem more than they already have. We all saw what Dumar got for his troubles—a dead son and a lost head."
"Dumar brought most of that on himself."
"Maybe. Who's to say I wouldn't bring something worse? Look what happens to everyone I love," Hawke said darkly.
Aveline gave her a sidelong look. "You can't think that way, Mina."
"You did."
"Before Donnic."
"Before the rest of us had to drag you kicking and screaming into Donnic's path, you mean."
They shared a smile. "Perhaps. Still … it was a good lesson to learn."
"You're lucky." Both Aveline and Donnic had been ready to learn that lesson at the same time. As far as Hawke could tell, Varric never had been and never would be ready … and there was only so much longer she could bear to sit and wait before it would be time for something new.