"Right, everyone, pack light, no time to waste, if you can’t carry it forget you ever had it, let's move," says Hawke. "We're fugitives as of this morning and I give us about an hour before the combined forces of the Chantry decide they're not feeling forgiving. Less. We'll take ship out of Kirkwall and then we'd better split up." The gang leaves Kirkwall, and Fenris and Hawke are bad at communication.

The words spill out of him before he can arrange them into something more coherent. “Anora, I think I might have a child.” (Or: in which Alistair Theirin realises he loves his wife.)