Chapter Text
And His Word became all that might be:
Dream and idea, hope and fear,
Endless possibilities.
Threnodies 5:1
Winter arrived in full force, colder than most in Kirkwall remembered seeing in their lifetimes. The first snowfall of the year came two days after the Viscount’s funeral, leaving a covering of several inches.
The ground wouldn’t be entirely free of snow for another four months. The warnings of harsh winter proved to be all too true.
For more than a week after her fever had broken Anabel did little but sleep.
“Is this normal?” Sebastian whispered to Anders over Hawke’s sleeping form. She’d been awake when Anders had arrived, and for the first time in days had expressed an interest in eating something. Sebastian had gone quickly downstairs to let Orana know, and by the time he’d returned she’d been sound asleep again.
Anders, who had been smoothing the covers around her, glanced up at her face. The bruises were finally fading. One small hand was curled up by her cheek, and she seemed as peaceful as a child. He couldn’t help smiling, seeing her like that. They’d come so close to losing her. He didn’t think any of the others realized quite how close. That they hadn’t almost restored his faith in that deity Sebastian was so fond of. “She’s finally resting.” He said softly, not wanting to wake her. “Even before she was injured she hadn’t been taking care of herself, hadn’t been eating or sleeping the way she should have. Fighting that infection took what few reserves she did have. Sleep is the best thing for her right now. It’s her body’s way of forcing her to recuperate.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this still.” Sebastian commented, not taking his eyes from her. “It seems so strange.”
“That alone tells me how much she needs it. We’ll know she’s truly recovering when that changes. And then the struggle will be to try and keep her still.”
Almost every time Anabel woke up for the first few weeks after the duel, Sebastian would be there. She came to expect it. It was more than two weeks before she thought to question him about it.
“Didn’t you used to have a job before all of this?” She asked him when she opened her eyes and again found him sitting in the armchair beside her bed, reading, Boy lying at his feet.
Sebastian looked up at her with a smile, closed the book and put it on the night table. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on edge of the bed and looked down at her.
Every time he saw her eyes open he gave thanks to the Maker and his Bride. He had thought he would lose her that night, but he hadn’t. She had survived.
The day after her fever had broken, he’d gone back to the Chantry, and bathed and slept, and, yes, prayed as well, and had been back at her bedside when she’d awoken. She’d opened her eyes, seen him there and smiled, and at the sight of that smile, all the turmoil, all the confusion and indecision about his vows, about Starkhaven, and about Anabel herself had instantly receded.
Against all the odds she was alive. That was what was mattered. That was all that mattered. Anabel Hawke was alive, and every time since then when he saw her wake, every time those blue green eyes opened and her lips curved into a contented smile at the sight of him he thought the same thing. The only important thing was that she was here, with him. “I have a new job.” He informed her. “Taking care of you.”
“That sounds like a thankless task.” She said, not lifting her head from her pillow, utterly content to just gaze at him.
“On the contrary.” He said with a smile. “I can’t think of one more important.” He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to it, keeping it clasped in his own. “How are you feeling?”
She curled her fingers around his hand and gave him a sleepy smile. “I’m fine.”
It was what she always answered, regardless of whether or not it was true. “I begin to understand why Anders grows so frustrated with you.” He commented with a wry smile.
“Truly, I’m fine. Still tired and feeble and useless, but fine.”
“Never useless.” He said stroking her hair back from her face. “Are you hungry?”
“Orana brought me some porridge this morning.” She assured him.
He noticed she didn’t say she’d eaten it. Her appetite still hadn’t returned and she wasn’t eating the way she should. “It’s past midday. If I had some soup brought up would you have some?”
She didn’t feel like eating, but it was impossible to say no to him. “All right. Can you get the pillows for me?” He helped her sit up and piled the pillows behind her so she was supported before he went to ask Orana to bring up some soup.
She watched him as he crossed back to the bed. “Isn’t Elthina missing you?”
“Sister Alma is taking care of things until you’re well again.” It had been Elthina’s suggestion.
“I don’t think I know her.” Said Hawke, trying to remember.
“I don’t think you’ve met." He had no qualms about the decision. Sister Alma was intelligent and efficient and though serious, not without a sense of humor. She was more than capable of doing the job. She would serve Elthina well.
“I’m sorry.” She said, leaning her head back against the pillows.
“For what?” he asked, moving to sit on the bed beside her.
“Disrupting your life in such a spectacular manner.”
He couldn’t help laughing. “You have done that, even before nearly sacrificing yourself to the Qunari. I’m rather glad you did, though.” He couldn’t imagine his life without her in it.
She gave him just a glimpse of her dimple. “You even sound as if you mean that.” She teased. “I’m glad I did too.” She agreed, reaching out and sliding her hand into his, twining their fingers together. “I can’t imagine my life without you.” She confessed.
The words echoed his thoughts so exactly that he couldn’t help leaning forward and kissing her forehead. “Nor can I.” He said softly, pulling back and stroking her cheek. “You’re such a part of me now. If I had lost you….”
“You didn’t.” She reminded him. “You ordered me to stay with you so I did.”
He couldn’t help smiling at the memory. "I wasn’t certain you'd remember that.”
Her expression was solemn. “I wanted to give up. You wouldn’t let me.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“And now you’re stuck with me.” She pointed out, and the corner of her mouth curved into a teasing smile, flashing her dimple again.
“Yes to my very great pleasure.” He agreed. He leaned forward kissed her dimple, and unable to resist, he turned his head slightly and just brushed his lips against hers, a feather light touch, before quickly pulling back again. “The important thing now is to get you well again. Yes?” He asked.
“Yes.” She agreed happily. Oh yes. She wanted to get well. She could still feel the faint touch of his lips on hers. She wanted much more of that. She looked over with a smile as Orana came in carrying a tray. For the first time in days she actually felt hungry.
The first time Anabel came downstairs by herself, she was trembling with exhaustion by the time she got to the bottom of the steps and she had had to pause there for a moment.
“There’s no shame in being carried, Anabel.” Sebastian pointed out.
“No.” She said stubbornly. “I want to do this myself.”
Sebastian looked to Anders to see if he thought it wise that they continue to let her try. Anders gave him a small nod in the affirmative, but Sebastian noticed he moved closer to Anabel, ready to offer assistance should she need it.
She stood there for a moment, hating how shaky she felt. It was ridiculous. All she’d done was walk down the stairs, and even that had been one step at a time, like a toddler learning how to walk. She took a step away from the bannister. The door to the library seemed ridiculously far away. “Fuck.” She muttered under her breath. If she couldn’t do this on her own they’d probably banish her upstairs again, insisting she was too frail to be up and about.
Anders was watching her, seeing every emotion cross her face. Andraste’s Ass, she was stubborn. Even now, after all she’d been through. she stood there refusing to admit she couldn’t make it on her own. He took a step forward intending to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way, whether she liked it or not, but before he could, Sebastian had stepped forward, offering her his arm.
“Might I escort you the rest of the way Serah Hawke?”
His tone was so ridiculously formal that she couldn’t help but smile, in spite of her exhaustion. “Offering assistance, rescuing me from my own stubbornness and letting me save face all at the same time? You are good. Anders would have just picked me up and hauled me off to the library, wouldn’t you?”
“I was about to.” Anders admitted. “I’m not nearly as concerned with your saving face. I am concerned that you not fall flat on it, but since Sebastian has saved you that indignity, I'll just go and get the sofa ready.” He said dryly, walking towards the library. Say what you would about the prat, Sebastian knew how to handle Hawke better than any of them, and after the last few weeks Anders couldn’t deny the man’s complete and utter devotion to her. He even had to admit to a certain grudging respect for the Prince. He still didn’t trust him, still hated what now seemed like the inevitability of his and Hawke’s relationship, but Hawke may have been right. Sebastian might be one of the good ones. Maker, he hated admitting that.
Hawke slipped her arm into the crook of Sebastian’s elbow and they walked slowly towards the library. Halfway there, seeing her begin to falter, Sebastian slipped a supportive arm around her waist. She leaned against him gratefully.
The newly delivered couch had been piled with blankets and pillows and Anders and Sebastian quickly got her settled on it.
Hawke leaned her head back on the pillows and looked at them. “I didn’t think it would be this difficult.” She confessed. “How pathetic am I?”
“You’re only just beginning to recover from serious injuries.” Sebastian said soothingly, though in truth he was alarmed at her weakened state. “It will get easier. We’ll just take it slowly.”
“It’s annoying. I’m not used to being still.” But she seemed quite content to just lie there for now.
“Listen to your body, Hawke.” Anders told her. “I’m willing to let you come down here for a few hours a day, but you pull just one of your stunts, you’ll be back upstairs in your bed before Sebastian can utter one his endless prayers for your safety.”
Hawke glanced over at Sebastian, to see how he had taken that remark, but to her surprise he had an easy smile on his face.
She turned back to Anders. “I’m far too tired for stunts.” She insisted. “I mean, look at me.”
Anders looked entirely unconvinced. “I’ve a feeling that’s going to change shortly.” Maker help them when it did. “I’ve got to get back to the clinic.” He announced. He looked over at Sebastian. “No more than an hour or two and then I want her back upstairs and resting. Don’t let her sweet talk you into staying down here.” He’d fastened his coat as he spoke, and was winding a scarf around his neck.
Anabel watched him with a puzzled look on her face. He was just going down through the basement to the clinic. Why was he bundling up as if he were going outside?
Unless it was that cold in the clinic.
“Is it still snowing?” She asked with a frown. From what they’d told her it had done nothing but snow since the Qunari had left.
“It is, and the temperature’s dropped again.” Said Anders pulling on some fingerless gloves.
Her frown deepened. It must be freezing in the Undercity. It must be freezing in the clinic. “You have to need more supplies; you were almost out even before all this happened.” She hadn’t even thought about that. She’d been too busy just lying around being feeble. Damn it. “You should have said something.” She told him. She began to worry her lower lip, considering what could be done. “Is Bodahn around?” She asked. “We must have some of the things you need here, he would know. And if you make up a list I can make sure you get the rest. It’s still early enough that we could even get them today, if we hurried.” She pushed back the covers, and swung her feet to the floor. “You'll help carry them down, won’t you?” She asking, turning to Sebastian.
He had a pleased smile on his face that she didn’t understand. Before she could question him about it Anders was there, lifting her legs by the feet, and putting them firmly back on the couch before pulling the blanket over her again, but he didn’t seem angry. In fact, he had an identical smile to Sebastian’s on his face.
“Why are you both smiling like that?” She asked, looking from one to the other.
“I know you’re feeling better if you’re beginning to worry about everyone else.” Said Anders. It was the surest sign yet that she was recovering. “The clinic is fine.” He told her. “Brother Sebastian here made sure we have all the supplies we need.”
She turned to Sebastian for an explanation.
“The Chantry allocates funds for such works of charity. I simply ensured that the funds went where they were most needed and that the supplies were safely delivered.”
“It’s kept the clinic running.” Said Anders. He hesitated before adding, “Thank you.” If it sounded a bit forced, it also sounded sincere.
Sebastian knew how difficult it must have been for him to say. “You do the Maker’s work in your clinic, Anders. It seems only fair that you have some of the Maker’s funds as well.” There was a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke, and Anders couldn’t help the laugh that burst out.
Hawke looked from one to the other with small smile on her lips. It was almost disconcerting seeing them getting along so well.
And all she’d had to do to make it happen was nearly die.
The weather continued to get worse. With the temperatures so bitterly cold, her friends refused to let her venture outside until there was no risk to her health.
Several weeks passed and the rumors began to grow.
The Champion was killed and Meredith is keeping the news from the populace to prevent rioting in the streets.
The Champion was horribly mutilated during her battle with the Arishok and won’t let herself be seen in public.
The Champion had suffered a head injury and was no better than a Tranquil. She lies in her bed staring at the ceiling, repeating over and over again the only two words she remembers: ‘Kirkwall’ and ‘Arishok’.
Varric in particular found that one hilarious.
“Like those would be the two words I’d remember.” She scoffed when Varric told her.
“True. It would be much more likely to be ‘whiskey’ and ‘raspberry tart’.” Varric agreed.
“Raspberry tart is two words.” Her eyes were fixed on Sebastian, who stood across the room by one of the bookcases, talking with Fenris. As if he felt her gaze, he looked over at her and gave her a smile so warm that her breath caught for a moment.
“I suppose one of them could just as easily be ‘Choir boy’.” Varric suggested innocently having watched the exchange.
“Choir boy’s two words as well.” She said absently, smiling as Sebastian walked across the room and joined them.
“Varric.” He said, before leaning down and lightly kissing top of Hawke’s head. She looked up at him, reaching up to twine her fingers through his. His hand tightened around hers, and he brushed a stray curl from her cheek. They couldn’t seem to keep their eyes from each other.
Varric looked back and forth between the two. He might as well have been on the moon for all the notice they took of him. They weren’t even trying to hide their feelings anymore, not that they’d ever been terribly successful at it anyway. He couldn’t help smiling.
Well, what do you know, he thought. Maybe Hawke and Choir Boy would get that happy ending after all.
Two months after the duel, Sebastian walked into the library and found Anabel curled up on the sofa, her feet tucked up under the skirt of her dress, reading, one hand idling playing with the locket around her neck. Boy was stretched out on the hearth in front of her.
He watched her, unobserved for a moment. Her hair was tied back with a ribbon – red, to match the soft wool dress she wore. She was still far too thin, but her color was back and she had lost that frail exhausted look that had worried them all. She looked beautiful.
The mabari noticed him before she did, and with a soft “woof”, rose to his feet and padded over to greet him. “Hello, Boy.” He said scratching behind the hound’s ears.
Hawke looked up from her book. “He greets you like family.” She commented, leaning her head back against the pillow. Unsurprising since Sebastian had been there every day since she’d been injured.
“And I’m honored by it.” He walked over to where she sat and crouched down looking carefully at her. “How are you today?”
She rolled her eyes. “Looking forward to the day that my friends stop greeting me by asking me that question.” She softened the statement with a gentle smile. “I’m fine, Sebastian. Stir-crazy, but fine.”
He nodded approvingly. “Well, in that case I was wondering if you’d care to go for a walk.”
She blinked in surprise. “A walk.” She clarified. “Like a walk walk. Like a walk outside?”
He couldn't help smiling. “I believe that’s generally how they’re conducted. It’s warmer today, and the wind has died down. Some of the snow has melted. I thought perhaps we could walk to the Market.”
She answered by flinging her arms around his neck and squealing with pleasure. The movement was so sudden it knocked him to the floor and she landed on top of him laughing and covering his face with kisses.
He was laughing as he stared up at her. “So that’s a ‘yes’ then.” He asked.
She nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes, please.”
He tried to give her a stern look, no mean feat when he was sprawled on his back with her on top of him, smiling in delight. “You need to bundle up well, and let me know the moment you feel at all tired.” He cautioned.
“Of course.” She said, agreeing eagerly. She’d slid off him and was on her feet offering him a hand before he'd quite realized she'd moved and the moment he was on his feet she was running towards the door calling Orana’s name. His mouth curved in a smile. She was getting her speed back.
Halfway there she stopped suddenly, turned around and came running back going on tip toe to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you!” She said and turned and ran out of the room.
A short time later they stepped out of the mansion into the sunshine. Hawke stopped and looked around, breathing in the fresh air. Her face was framed by the fur lined hood of the grey coat she was wearing. It was an elegant garment, closely fitted, decorated with braided trim in a lighter grey, and with fur-trimmed sleeves that flared out from the elbow in the latest style. She looked every inch the proper Hightown lady.
She flashed him a brilliant smile. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it feels to be outside.” The wind gusted suddenly and she shivered a little.
He stepped closer, shielding her from the wind. “Are you sure you’re warm enough?”
“I’m fine. Orana bundled me up with extra petticoats and wool stockings, and all manner of things.” She said looking up at him with laughing eyes. “There’s been too much sitting in front of fireplaces in soft armchairs is all. I need to toughen up.” Her cheeks were already pink from the cold.
He reached down and pulled her hood more securely around her face. “We’ll take it slowly, all right?” He tucked her gloved hand firmly in the crook of his elbow and they leisurely made their way through Hightown, Sebastian keeping a watchful eye for any signs that she was tiring.
She glanced at the Templars stationed on the steps of the Keep and scowled. “I can’t believe Meredith had the nerve to move Templars into the Keep like that.” She’d been furious when she’d heard the story. Unsurprised, but furious nonetheless.
Sebastian looked over at them. “Yes, well the Knight Commander has never suffered from a shortage of audacity.”
“What does Elthina say about it?”
“That it’s a political matter and not the Chantry’s concern.” He understood Elthina’s intention. She wanted the Chantry neutral, so that all felt free to come to her for assistance. He found himself having trouble reconciling it with the reality of the situation. Perhaps he was more politician than priest after all.
Anabel frowned and opened her mouth to point out that the Templars were at least nominally under the control of the Chantry, and were hardly removed from politics anyway, but she was interrupted before she could speak.
“Champion!” Someone called out. It took Anabel a moment to realize they were talking to her. She turned to see Guillaume de Launcet approaching.
He had a broad smile on his face. “It’s so good to see you out and about. You are better, yes? The whole city has been praying for your recovery. We owe you a great debt.”
Hawke seemed bewildered by the praise, but smiled all the same. “Kirkwall is my home. What else would I do?”
“My wife is having a small gathering next week. She would never forgive me if I did not ask you to honor us with your presence. And you as well, of course, Your Highness.” He added, glancing at Sebastian before turning his attention back to Hawke.
Dulcie de Launcet wanted her at a dinner party? That seemed highly unlikely. “I’m afraid I’m not yet accepting invitations, but please thank the Comtesse.” After a few more exchanged pleasantries the Comte took his leave.
“Weird.” She muttered as he walked away.
They continued making their way towards the market, and the scene repeated itself several times.
“All right this is just strange.” She murmured to Sebastian after the fifth person had come rushing up to them. “Where are the disapproving looks? The snide comments about upstart Fereldan refugees?”
“You’re their champion, Ana. You saved the city. You should see how many people stop me on the street and in the Chantry to ask after you.” His heart swelled with pride for her. Finally Kirkwall was recognizing all she did for the city.
They made their way to the market and browsed the stalls. Anabel had never had so many people try to give her things for free but the only thing she accepted was a pink rose from Sam, grown in his hothouse, a rose identical to those Sebastian had given her so many months before.
“I’d like to name it after you, Serah.” Said Sam, as she tucked the rose into one of the buttonholes at the neck of her coat.
She arched an eyebrow. “You want to call a rose “Hawke”?” She asked.
“Not Hawke – Champion. The Champion’s rose.”
She laughed then. “I’d be honored, Sam. Thank you.”
Sam’s kindly face grew serious. “No, Champion, thank you. You saved us all, and from what I’ve heard, nearly lost your own life doing it. Kirkwall will always be in your debt for that.”
Sebastian gave her an appraising look as they walked away from the stand. “Are you tired?” He asked. He hadn’t intended to keep her out this long, but he had vastly underestimated the number of Kirkwall citizens who would want to thank her.
She hesitated for a moment, but being bedridden for weeks had at least taught her some caution for her own wellbeing. “I am, a little.” She admitted.
“Come. Let’s go home.” He put a guiding hand around her waist, and she let herself lean against him as he carefully led her towards the stairs. Neither of them noticed the many eyes following them with approving smiles.
As they rounded the corner to the plaza in front of Hawke’s house, he felt her suddenly go stiff and straighten up. He looked down in concern to find she was looking past him. He turned to see what had caught her eye.
A Qunari stood quietly in the shadows across from her mansion. He made no move, and said nothing, just stood there, watching them. No, watching her. Sebastian tried to remain calm. Perhaps it was one of the Tal Vashoth, one of the many mercenaries one encountered all over Thedas. Not even the Qunari would be audacious enough to send someone back to Kirkwall so soon, would they?
Anabel and the Qunari stared at each other for a few second before she slowly pulled her hand free from Sebastian’s arm and walked towards him, ignoring Sebastian’s hissed calling of her name. She stopped just in front of the giant.
The Qunari looked down at her. “I am Taarbas.” He rumbled. “You are Hawke.” It was a statement, not a question, but he sounded uncertain. One could almost hear his thought – this tiny bas? This is who bested the Arishok?
She nodded, looking up at him. “Yes. I hadn’t thought there would be any Qunari still in Kirkwall.”
His face was unreadable. “Many Qunari fell that day. I am sent to recover their swords.”
“Sent?” So it wasn’t someone who had remained behind. It had been two months since the duel. This Taarbas must have been sent almost as soon as the others had arrived back in Par Vollen. She tried to remember what she knew about the custom. Their weapons held their souls, not their bodies. The bodies were just husks, unimportant, their blades anything but. “Of course.” She murmured. “Can I help in any way?”
The Qunari looked at her more intently and then gave a slight nod, as if pleased by her response. “If you find any swords, bring them to me. I will be here.” He glanced up as Sebastian joined them. Noting the man’s protective attitude he stepped carefully back from Hawke.
Anabel put a reassuring hand on Sebastian’s chest and turned back to Taarbas. “I will. If you require any other aid please let me know. You know where you can find me.” She assumed he did since he had waited outside of her house.
He nodded. “You are Basalit ‘an. It is as the Arishok said.”
“He was a worthy opponent.” She said simply. She slipped her arm through Sebastian’s and gently guided him away from the giant and back to her house.
They had barely made it inside the door when he turned on her. “Are you insane?” He asked, trying not to shout the words.
She seemed taken aback by the vehemence of his question. She tilted her head to one side as if considering. “Hmmm. I think the jury’s still out on that one.” She pushed back her hood and unfastened the buttons of her coat, shrugging out of it and tossing it carelessly on the bench in the entry. She turned towards the main room, but Sebastian caught her by the arm, stopping her.
“It’s not a joke, Anabel! You nearly died at the hands of the Qunari, you killed their leader and yet you walk right up to one of them, completely unarmed, without any idea of what his intentions might be.” In naught but a dress and woolen coat, still frail from her illness. She had never looked smaller and more helpless than she had standing next to the Qunari.
“He wasn’t going to harm me.” She insisted. She seemed genuinely puzzled by his anger.
“And you know that for certain?” He asked, his voice louder than he intended.
She frowned at him, perplexed by his reaction. “Yes. The Qun wouldn’t allow it. I dueled the Arishok and defeated him. I won. The matter is over.”
“Just like that?” She couldn’t possibly be so naïve, could she?
“Well, yes. That’s how they are.” She looked at him more carefully. “You were scared.” She realized.
He threw his hands up in the air. “Bloody hell, Anabel, of course I was scared. It’s been scarce two months since I saw you nearly cut in half by one of those giants.”
She couldn’t hide her smile as she came up to him. She took his large hands in hers and placed them gently but firmly on her waist. His hands automatically tightened around it.
“See. Still in one piece.” She gave him a reassuring smile.
All the fight went out of him. He bent forward and rested his forehead against hers, willing his heart to stop pounding. “You’re going to be the death of me Anabel Hawke.”
He was only half joking. Her first trip outside after weeks of convalescence and she was going toe to toe with the Qunari. He moved his hand to her neck, tilting up her face, looking at her for a moment before he leaned down and kissed her, firmly, as if to confirm that she was there and unharmed. She moved into his embrace, slipping her arms around his neck and he kissed her again, a searching, gentle kiss this time. It was she who increased the pressure, who made it something more, pressing her slender form against him, tasting him, teasing and nipping.
He finally pulled his mouth away, looking down at her, breathing heavily. “What am I going to do with you?” He asked. Only a part of him was thinking about what had happened with the Qunari outside now. The other part could think of nothing but the feel of her lips and her tongue and her teeth, imagining all the other uses he could make of them. She grew more tempting each day, and it was wrong to be so tempted, to want her so badly when she was still so far from well, when he still could offer her nothing. The worries he had about his future, about their future, reared up and he carefully pushed them back. She wasn’t well yet. There would be plenty of time to concern himself with that when she was.
Anabel just snuggled closer to him, oblivious to his turmoil, just enjoying the feel of his arms around her. “You could take me to see Elthina tomorrow.” She suggested. Who knew how long this break in the weather would last? All too soon she’d be trapped inside again, all of her friends convinced she was such a delicate flower that she would wilt if exposed to a little cold.
“Do you think you could avoid a battle with any Templars we might pass on the way?” He asked, only half joking. She didn’t answer and he pulled his head back to look at her. She seemed to be giving the question serious thought. “Anabel?” he inquired.
“I’m thinking.” After a moment she shook her head regretfully. “I couldn’t guarantee it.” She looked up at him with a mischievous grin. “Are you willing to risk it, anyway?”
He pulled her into his arms again, holding her close against him, stroking her hair. “For you Anabel Hawke, I would risk a great many things.”