With every breath that managed to escape her chest, Bethany Hawke grew more and more certain she was coming to her last.

Meredith's once intimidating stature shriveled to the hardened husk right there before their eyes. Metal scraped metal as the templars drew their swords. Some of them pointed their weapons at the four of them. Some of them simply held their blades limply at their sides. They seemed as clueless as she felt.

Under most circumstances, Bethany liked to think she had an above average strength of willpower. Even still, she could not fight the impulse she had to find him. If she did not hate herself before, surely she did now. It was a small comfort that he had been staring at her already. Very small. His sword was lowered, but never unready. The disgust with herself rose as she searched him for injury. The most severe of his wounds was a disturbing gash on his mouth. He was favoring his side, but otherwise seemed unmolested.

"Go," Knight-Captain Cullen whispered, casting his gaze on the stone beneath their feet. "Before more come." The deep cut on his upper lip and consequential blood dripping from his mouth slurred his speech. Garrett, for all of is smugness, seemed truly at a loss of words. Bethany wasn't sure if that had ever happened before in his life.

"Hawke," Varric said. "I got a boat down by the docks that can get us out of the city. I think now would be the time to use it."

"Lead the way," Garrett said, his voice gravelly with emotion. Bethany watched as her brother, along with Varric and Isabela, made his way through their crowd of templars at their new leader's approval. It was as symbolic as it was picturesque. That was her brother. Whatever a quip couldn't solve, his daggers could. He forged his own path in the chaos, and never settled for anything less. She froze, uncertain if Cullen meant to let her escape as well, with her being a mage. Cautiously, she turned back to look at him, a flood of emotion filling her belly as his warm, honeyed eyes met hers once more. He no longer looked at her as if she were oil-soaked kindling waiting to ignite and consume him. He hadn't looked at her like that in quite some time.

"You coming, Sunshine?" Varric called. Bethany looked back to the retreating group as her brother turned back, seemingly surprised she had not been following him. Once again, she would be allowed to take refuge in his shadow after so many painful years apart. But unlike Carver, Bethany had felt safe there. And had been so very long since she had felt safe. Her brother had been her protector for her entire life, and returning to his side called to her like a beacon during a raging storm.

She turned back to Cullen, whose gaze had not wavered from hers. Cautiously as a doe, she approached the knight-captain, ignoring the templars surrounding her and the incredibly tense echoing her footsteps made in the silent courtyard. They all slowly lowered their swords as their unofficial commander showed no aggression toward the encroaching mage. Their enemy, now; for Thedas would burn until either the mages or templars emerged the victor. There would be no turning back: Anders made sure of that. She felt as if her mana pool were as dried up as freshly tanned leather, but the blood dripping from Cullen's mouth caused her heart to skip a beat. It seemed an eternity before she finally stood within arm's reach, her eyes fixed on his as she reach his hand up to his face. He froze, but there was no longer fear in his eyes. The last vestiges of her magic sealed the hanging piece of skin back to his lip, pulling the blood dripping down his mouth back into wound that slowly closed into a much more innocuous cut.

"Maker go with you, Cullen," she said, trying desperately to keep her voice from breaking, her hand still hovering just inches from his face.

"May he turn his gaze on you, Bethany," he replied, her title decidedly missing from the front of her name.

If her body had ever truly been possessed by a being other than herself, she couldn't imagine it would be much different than the moment she threw herself toward him, taking his lips in a kiss that she was quite certain she would regret in less than a minute. It was not as passionate as she had imagined in her more private fantasies conjured in the past several years. Reality rarely measured up to the dream, and she was acutely aware of his tender upper lip, in spite of her healing. It was not until she felt his gauntlet behind her head and him pressing his mouth even more into hers that the fire ignited within her chest. It was, for once, as she imagined it would be for the pathetically long time she had pined for this man. This templar, who viewed her people as little more than a dangerous liability for humanity. It was over before it truly began as she pulled away, two tears falling from either of her brown eyes. She turned and ran, and it was her turn to lead their bedraggled group to the docks as her brother and company stared gaping behind her. She slowed her pace to a hurried walk, squeezing her eyes shut as she fixed her eyes on the path out of Hightown. Garrett seemed to be mumbling some sort of threat in Cullen's direction But she could tell it was mostly a formality, and didn't feel the need to intervene. She only wanted to get out of the Maker-forsaken city and never look back.