For Stephen.
Revenge.
She shouldn’t have done it. At the time Hawke had weighed the options and the elf had obviously been too much of a threat to be allowed to run around Kirkwall, but had that really been her only option?
‘He just wanted his freedom, to be allowed to live his life – isn’t that what you want?’
She could have let him go, could have taken him under her protection. How was he any different from Bethany, or Anders or Merrill or Isabela? An Apostate, an Abomination, a Dalish, a Pirate. Why would an escaped slave, unique though he was, have made any difference?
Isabela had been furious with her, Bethany had been ashamed of her sister, and Merrill had been frightened. Hawke had lost the trust of some of her most valued teammates with that one bad decision.
He has escaped once, it might take him more time now that his masters were aware of it but he would do it again. And Hawke had no illusions that he would forget her.
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Two years later and Hawke knew he was coming.
She knew well the feeling of being hunted, and something about the air, the glow of the full moon told her tonight.
She had left letters for her team, letting them know that she had known, leaving last requests, and making arrangements, asking forgiveness, reminding Varric that he owed her five gold; which would go to Bethany or she would haunt him from the grave.
The team was relaxing, drinking. It had been a hard week and they deserved the respite. Hawke downed the last of her ale and slipped out into the night. No one noticed her departure, as she had hoped they would not.
She wandered the streets, her thoughts oddly calm. Perhaps she had never expected to be allowed to grow old. Darkspawn, Qunari, Templars, Bandits, a vengeful slave –what did it matter? It seemed the curse of her family to die young.
The alley was dark, deserted and in a part of town where people would be unlikely to investigate.
“And here I was expecting you to make this hard.”
Hawke hadn’t noticed him in the shadows, quite the feat for someone who glowed. She shrugged.
“Of everyone who probably wants to kill me you may be the only one who deserves it.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You admit it?”
“That I made a mistake? That I did the wrong thing? Yes.”
“I...did not think you would. Even as I killed him the Magister was sure he was right.”
“Do you want to change your mind?”
“No.”
She hadn’t expected he would.
“Very well, a concession then?” Hawke asked.
“Maybe, what is it?”
“Make it quick.”
She was thankful he did.
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