Thanks to an elfroot potion and a great deal of water and a bath, Alistair was feeling much better as he sat down to breakfast. He had been going over in his mind how he would broach the topic with Hawke, how he would explain what had happened. He decided at some point that morning while his head was still spinning that he had to just tell her everything and hope she'd understand. She'd been joining him for breakfast nearly every day for weeks and he was impatient for her arrival, only just stopping himself from getting up and pacing.

Finally the door opened and he went to his feet so fast he jarred the table, nearly toppling several glasses and a decanter of juice in the process. But instead of Hawke, Lelianna came in through the door. "Your steward told me you were here for breakfast. I hope you don't mind that I've joined you?"

Of course he minded. He minded a great deal, especially since he specifically told his steward not to tell anyone who was not Hawke, Fenris, or Ser Aaron where he was that morning. "Of course not, Lelianna. Did you have something you'd like to discuss?"

She closed the door behind her and made her way over to the table. She was in a very fine dress that reminded him of the day to day clothing he'd seen at court in Orlais. It was ornate by Ferelden standards, but incredibly simple by Orlesian standards and fashioned out of fine silks in complimentary colors. He pulled out a chair for her and he caught her perfume as she sat – a rather heady blast of Andraste's Grace. "No, nothing in particular. I just thought that it would be nice to share a meal with my friend."

"Oh… of course."

Alistair sank back into his chair and, nodding in all the right places and murmuring responses when he was sure he was supposed to, listened to Lelianna wax poetic about Ferelden and how much she'd missed it, despite the fact that he could remember her doing little but complain about it during the blight. Realizing he was in for the long haul, he eventually filled his plate and tucked into his food, hoping to simply be done with breakfast as quickly as possible and make up some excuse that could get him to Hawke's suite once his meetings that morning were completed.

…..

Hawke awoke in much better spirits than she had been in the night before. Wandering through the city with Zevran and Fenris had been far more of a tonic than she'd expected. She hadn't realized just how much her confinement to the palace had been chafing at her. It was a large enough place that it hardly seemed like it would matter, but the truth was that the fact that an entire city of people and places and new things was barred from her had been getting under her skin more and more every day. They'd escaped once before but if felt like ages ago to her. She was used to having free reign of her environment, free to wander wherever she wanted to. Every morning she went through the same halls to the same places and with little to break up the monotony of all the waiting. And now that the waiting for Sister Lelianna was over, her confinement was actually continuing.

If not for Fenris and his constant, comforting presence and Zevran's way of somehow knowing what she needed without really knowing her at all she was sure she'd have gone mad already and simply left in the night. And while they hadn't set out to start any sort of adventure in the night that's exactly what had happened. They'd simply been wandering through the streets, well away from the bustle of the market in one of the many standard residential neighborhoods. Noodle was thoroughly investigating every smell he could find, ranging up and down the street and back to them in intervals when a little streak of color slammed into her and took off. She immediately felt for the tiny purse that had been tied to her belt and found it gone. They all took off after the child – no more than five or six years old and wickedly fast. Somewhere along the way her cloak caught on a haycart and stopped her dead. Instead of stopping and disentangling herself she simply tugged and heard the fabric tear. It wasn't really her cloak anyway – something borrowed from the palace and their apparent never ending supply of cast off noble woman's clothing that seemed to accrue there.

Noodle had gotten to the child first and had him cornered, baring his teeth and growling in a low rolling sound of pure menace. On closer inspection the child, cowering there scared out of his wits, might have been as much as ten years old, he was simply tiny and underfed. It took all her persuasive powers to get him to speak to her at all once Noodle had been called off. The boy, barely a clean spot on him, kept darting his eyes at everything but her. To the Mabari, then the elf with the strange tattoos and the enormous sword, then to the other elf who was practically festooned with daggers. Eventually she had them all wait at the end of the alley so that the boy would tell her his name, where he lived, if he had anyone to care for him.

It was only in bits and pieces that the story came together – a group of orphans living on the streets together, pooling resources, keeping each other fed and safe from predators. He was scared that he'd be in trouble with them more than anything else. In the end, Hawke took back her coin purse, digging into her boot for another, much heavier one and offering it to him in trade. The boy, Kieran, looked at her not as some savior, but as if it were a trap. Obviously he'd been told far too often about the kinds of adults who offer treats and coin to little boys. Instead of forcing his hand, Hawke just left the abundant purse on the ground there between them, tucking the other into her boot before bidding him a good evening and asking that he be more careful about choosing his marks. "Always check the shoes and the line of the cloak. Avoid weapons and well-worn leather. It will always end in difficulty for a clean get away."

As she exited the alley, Fenris had been there shaking his head at her. "What? It's good advice."

He'd simply rolled his eyes. "You're teaching them to be better thieves, Hawke. You don't think that's a bad idea?"

"And do you think it's a better idea that they get caught by some angry ruffian?"

Fenris had just shaken his head at her, a bemused look on his face. She'd noticed That Zevran seemed distracted, looking thoughtfully up and down the side street they were on. But it was such a common thing that Zevran paid attention to things that no one else seemed to notice that she didn't think much of it. Until she noticed that the haycart that she'd left an appreciable amount of her cloak hem on didn't have a stitch of fabric on it. Looking around herself, it wasn't on the ground or anywhere in the area, as if it had been spirited away. It wasn't worth dwelling on, however, so she let it go. The three of them had taken in a meal at a tavern with a rather raucous group of minstrels and stomping peasant dances. Noodle had even gotten into the spirit, zooming around the room, playfully chasing the tavern keeper's son around, causing squeals of laughter to mix with the music in a way that made Hawke finally feel at home.

After languishing in bed far longer than she should have, she remembered that today was Colm's riding lesson. Hoping that she would again be included, Hawke dressed in her old well-worn leather trousers and a simply belted tunic along with her tall boots. He'd never said so, but she had caught Alistair on more than one occasion staring at her legs in those boots and she was sure that he had a special fondness for them. Once she'd gotten back to the palace the night before all she'd wanted to do was to find him and get him alone but Zevran had talked her out of it, insisting that she should do something just for herself for awhile and not worry about Alistair. The occasional moments in rooms behind closed doors had been too few and too far between for Hawke's taste. They made for tantalizing dreams but that morning she desperately wanted to be close to him. She'd never experienced this kind of desire in her adult life and it was somewhat maddening to see him so often but be bound by so many rules when it came to actually being with him. She would never complain about it, though. She could wait it out as long as she needed to – but that wouldn't stop her from manufacturing moments where she could steal a kiss or be enfolded in his arms.

She practically skipped down the hall to where they shared breakfast only to find a confused Ser Aaron staring at her as she came closer to the door.

"I… my lady, I thought you were already inside."

"Obviously not, Brendan. Unless something very strange has happened in the night and I've been split into two I'm most definitely standing right here."

From the other side of the door, Hawke could hear murmured conversations and then a peal of girlish laughter. She recognized it immediately and it felt like a dagger in her chest.

"Ah – I see." Hawke stood there a moment longer. Not really listening in, since that was very difficult to do in a stone palace with thick doors, but instead trying to understand what had happened and how she felt. There was every possibility that she was overreacting, but her first inclination was to be hurt. Sister Lelianna – Alistair's first crush, his first love – was sitting in Hawke's place at breakfast, the one moment in every day when Alistair made sure that they had time for each other despite all his other duties. Before she was here in person, Hawke had imagined how all this would go a million times. She'd known that Lelianna was beautiful. She'd known that she was charming and seductive. But she'd also taken Alistair at his word that there was nothing between them since she'd rejected him years ago. And there was nothing here to indicate that that had changed at all. They were simply old friends sharing breakfast and talking. He couldn't have known how that might seem. That's what she told herself and tried to convince herself to believe.

Hawke realized she'd just been standing there at the door, staring into space "You know, I think I'll pop down to the kitchens and convince one of the cooks to feed me. Do you think you could find out where Noodle is for me? He broke off last night and didn't sleep in my room. I assume he's at the kennel with his lady love, but I'd feel better knowing."

"Of course, my lady. I'll escort you to the kitchens – they're on the way."

"Thank you, Brendan."

….

After a very awkward goodbye at breakfast where Lelianna hugged him and kissed him on both cheeks, giggling and saying it was a customary Orlesian farewell for friends, Alistair nearly ran to his study, thankful for the work he had to do and the very good excuse it gave him to be free of Lelianna for a short time. Anora joined him and they went over a few outstanding issues from Eamon's time as Chancellor. Apparently he'd set up quite a few deals that Alistair had been unaware of and the contracts for which Anora had just discovered that morning as they continued to scour Eamon's study at the palace. It was rife with hiding places, spying posts, and hidden niches that contained correspondence that she was still trying to sort out and make sense of. Erlina, Anora's personal maid had spent nearly a week deciphering codes used in some of the letters and tracking down just who the messages had been sent back and forth to. Eamon, it seemed, had an entire network of businesses and deals that he had brokered using his power as Chancellor that Anora was now tasked with unraveling and dismantling. While the majority of them were indeed beneficial to the crown, they had all also been highly beneficial to Eamon specifically. It wasn't anything more than either of them had expected to find, but it was still somewhat startling to them both just how deep his audacity in his position had truly gone.

It was mid-day before his conversation and planning with Anora came to an end and he set off immediately to find Hawke. There were no guards on her door, but that didn't mean she wasn't there. It had become her custom to slip her guards whenever possible, leaving them guarding an empty room for hours until they finally realized that there was no way that she could still be in whatever non-descript cubby she'd lead them to. Only Ser Aaron seemed immune to that type of game and it was only when he was present that Alistair could be sure that Hawke was also there.

He knocked at the door and let himself in to discover Orana sitting by the window mending one of Hawke's shirts. She shot to her feet, dropping her sewing basket in the process and then fell into a deep curtsey. "Your… your Majesty. Serrah Hawke is not here."

"I thought she might not be, Orana. You can rise – I'm not upset." He tried, as always, to be gentle when speaking to Orana. She still shook like a leaf when he was around which upset him a great deal – he hated that she seemed to actually be frightened of him but he tried not to take it personally. Humans in general had not treated her well. "Do you know where she has gone?"

"Ser Donal's son came looking for you. He said it was your day for a riding lesson. Messere Hawke took him to the gardens along with Noodle and Master Araini."

"Thank you, Orana. I won't disturb you any further." She again fell into a deep curtsey with her eyes on the ground and stayed there until he closed the door. Colm's riding lesson – he'd completely forgotten. But it was clever of him to seek out Hawke.

When he found them in the garden, it was by the sound of laughter and Colm's squeals of pure childish joy. Rounding a corner, he found Zevran leaning against a tree, watching Hawke and Colm with a smile on his face and looking very content. Hawke and Colm were both walking around on their hands. Colm did a good job of keeping his balance, though he was very wobbly, with his legs kicking wildly in the air to correct himself here and there whenever he took a few steps on his hands. Hawke, on the other hand had her legs straight up in the air, and her boots and stockings were off – bare toes pointed and ankles together as she walked in cirlces around Colm, laughing and giving him pointers. Eventually Colm tumbled from his arms and managed to flail his legs into Hawke's stomach as he fell, knocking her over as well. They both laughed, sprawled on the grass.

"We still have to work on your dismount, young man. I know it's hard to remember when you're falling over, but you need to tuck and roll. You're less likely to hurt yourself – or me." She punctuated this with a poke to his ribs, which made Colm giggle and squirm away from her. "Come on – let's practice rolling."

Hawke rose and helped Colm up just as Alistair stepped forward. Her smile faltered for a moment. "Hello, your majesty." Colm's head whipped around and he bounded over to Alistair, nearly climbing him before Alistair had the chance to pick him up. "Aster! Hawke is teaching me how to be Antivan!"

Zevran laughed from his spot by the tree "She's teaching you to tumble. You don't have to be Antivan to do that, I assure you." Zevran rose from his spot and brushed off his clothing. "Come, I will work on your rolling with you. I think his Majesty needs to speak to Hawke for a moment."

"Stay and watch, Aster! Watch me tumble!" Colm screamed excitedly into Alistair's face and then scrambled down out of his arms, bounding over to Zevran. They walked some distance away and Zevran demonstrated the correct starting position and then did several rolling somersaults in a row, Colm clapping for him as if he were doing this for this first time as well.

Alistair and Hawke both watched, smiling for a moment before either of them spoke. "It's a shame he never had children. I think he would have made a pretty fantastic father."

"Are we talking about the same man? Whoring, killing, flirting Zevran Araini?"

Hawke smiled at him "We both know that's not all that he is, Alistair. Look at him with Colm. He has patience to spare and he has never talked down to him. If nothing else, he'd make an excellent tutor to someone."

"I missed you at breakfast, Marian." Alistair slipped his hand into hers, running his thumb along her knuckles. "And I don't just mean that I didn't see you. I missed you."

Hawke looked at him for a moment, face utterly neutral, "You had company. I assumed you were busy. I ate with the scullery maids. They have the best gossip in the palace, you know." Her tone was very nonchalant, but Alistair had the distinct impression there was something more to it.

"About that – I need to talk to you about Lelianna."

Hawke pulled her hand away from his and crossed her arms, turning toward him. "Alright."

Alistair nearly slapped himself with the hand he put to his forehead "That sounded far more dire than I meant it to. Look – I… I'm not sure if this is the best place for this conversation. Will you meet me later? In my study? I have a few meetings this afternoon to handle but should be free all evening and I'll be there – alone – so that we can talk."

Hawke looked uncharacteristically stoic "Yes, of course. I will meet you there this evening." She then turned to look back at Zevran and Colm as they tumbled across the yard, Colm's path veering wildly and often directly into Zevran's. Her shoulders never relaxed and her arms never unfolded. Alistair didn't want to have this discussion in the middle of the garden, but he also couldn't justify pulling her off into an alcove. Not out here, not in the middle of the day, no matter how much he wanted to. Seeing her laugh and play, all he really wanted to do was get her alone, kiss her, taste the skin of her neck and feel her body against his. Physical desire was not new to him but with Hawke specifically it was like every tiny sliver of it he was allowed only added to his want. It was torturous standing so close to her and being unable to even put his hand on hers.

It was only moments later when a voice interrupted his increasingly fevered train of thought. "Messere Hawke, you have been summoned by Sister Lelianna. You will submit to questioning. I will escort you." Standing there behind them was Lelianna's guard, grim faced and battle worn. His age was impossible to determine – he could be a very hard 30 or a very well preserved 70 or anywhere in between.

Hawke simply nodded and went to put her stockings and boots back on. Her only acknowledgement of Alistair as she left was a quick bob of her head and a murmured "Your Majesty."

Zevran, appeared at Alistair's shoulder as he watched them go. "And so it has begun, yes? I wonder – was it wise to request Lelianna specifically for this?"

"I thought she would be the most fair. We were friends and I think she is a fair and honest person." He looked at Zevran then "Do you disagree?"

Zevran shook his head "No, I know that you were friends and she can certainly be fair and honest – when it suits her. I just fear that it does not suit her in this case."

"You think that she would purposefully implicate Hawke unfairly?"

Zevran sighed and put his hand on Alistair's shoulder. "I think that Lelianna would do a great many things to achieve her goals, my friend. Working with her has always been a matter of ensuring your goals are the same as hers." Over his shoulder Zevran said a little louder "Giggling is a poor way to be sneaky, Colm. Try it again from another position. I won't move."

"You're teaching him to sneak now?" Alistair grinned at the elf, who took on a look of exaggerated innocence.

"You don't think his mother and father will appreciate a stealthy 4 year old?"

"I'll blame you when they come complaining."

…..

Hawke was lead into a suite of rooms that was similar to hers but far larger and more sumptuously decorated. These were clearly rooms reserved for the higher Escalon of guests, but her suite was located far closer to Alistair's personal chambers. Lelianna didn't bother to rise when Hawke was ushered in, but just motioned for her to take the chair opposite hers. The chairs had been put in the middle of the room with a low table between them on which there was currently a tea service. Lelianna was in the sort of dress Hawke associated with Orlesian nobility living in Kirkwall. She'd seen the Comtess de Launcet wear nearly the same dress in different colors. She wondered if that meant the Comtess was very fashion forward or that Lelianna was woefully behind on current trends.

"Please, help yourself. I would like for this to be as informal as possible. There is no reason we have to view each other as enemies. I'm here to understand what happened in Kirkwall as well as your part it in. While it is true that there will be a judgment delivered eventually, I would prefer if would could focus on simply knowing one another first. Any friend of Alistair's is obviously doing something right. I trust his judgment when it comes to who he associates with."

Hawke merely nodded at that, and focused on pouring herself some tea. She had no interest in it, but she knew a fake show of social graces when she saw it and knew that it would be a mistake to not go along with this.

"So, Marian – may I call you Marian? It feels odd to me to call you by your surname all the time."

Hawke wanted to cringe, wanted to roll her eyes. No one living called her by her first name. That was… intimate. That was something reserved for only a few people. But instead she just nodded. "Marian is fine, Sister Lelianna."

"Please, while we're talking, call me Lelianna." She paused to wait for Hawke's consent and then continued. "So, Marian – how did you meet Alistair? How you came to be in Denerim as his guest is something we don't have a clear picture of. Varric even swore he had no idea where you'd gone."

Hawke smiled, she could have kissed Varric if he'd been there. His subterfuge didn't work, but just the fact that he lied for her without having to be asked made her miss him and appreciate him. "Well, I was living in Kirkwall and was summoned to the Viscount's Keep by his majesty. He said that he was there for diplomatic reasons and had heard good things about me from the Viscount. Teagan and I spoke briefly and then I spoke with his majesty for about 20 minutes or so. He sent a message a few days later asking that I meet him at the gates as he left. He requested my permission to start a correspondence with me and I agreed."

"At the time you were a mercenary. From what I understand, you took a great many jobs for any number of people with different agendas. What was your goal in starting a correspondence with him?"

Hawke furrowed her brows "I'm not sure I understand. He was interesting to talk to and he asked if it would be alright if he wrote to me. I felt that it would."

"And what did you hope to achieve by starting a correspondence with the king of Ferelden?"

"A series of pleasant conversations? I didn't really think about it. Truthfully I thought he was simply being kind and that I would never actually receive a letter from him. At most I thought I could at least give him more detail about Solona, which he'd expressed interest in, and in the situation in Kirkwall when it came to Ferelden refugees."

"So you did have an agenda." Lelianna stated this as a fact, peering at Hawke over the lip of her cup and she took a sip. It was only at that moment that Hawke realized what this questioning was going to be like. Lelianna was going to come into it with an assumption and then find a way to confirm that assumption, true or not.

"He asked for both the information about Solona and the information about the refugees. If that was anyone's agenda, Lelianna, it was his."

Lelianna nodded "And how did you come to be in Denerim?"

"His majesty requested that I return here with him." Hawke was going to answer only the question asked and give no further information. And she would be truthful as far as she needed to be. Her relationship with Alistair was completely out of bounds as far as she was concerned. She would not be discussing it with Lelianna if she could at all help it beyond the bare facts of events. Her feelings were her own and she would not divulge them for some agent of the Divine – friend of Alistair's or not. Frankly, she knew she was being unreasonable at this point. The woman clearly came here with a purpose, no matter what Alistair thought of her. But Hawke knew that part of her growing sense of unease at the line of questioning stemmed directly from the fact that Lelianna's presence had already started to change things.

"This was after he came to find you in Rivain?"

"Yes." Hawke took a sip from her tea, which had an unpleasant floral quality to it making it both smell and taste like perfume. "This tea is… interesting."

"Do you like it? I brought it with me from Orlais. It's not fashionable at court these days, but I have fond memories of it."

"It's like drinking a hydrangea," Hawke smiled at Lelianna in what she hoped look like a charming way and was rewarded with that tinkling giggle of a laugh.

"Yes I suppose it is a little. It will certainly never be popular in Ferelden." She took another sip from her cup and put it down on the saucer balanced on her knee. "What caused Alistair to come find you in Rivain?"

"From what I understand, Isabela sent a note to Fenris and Varric. They shared the information with his majesty and he took a ship and a contingent of guards to Rivain in pursuit."

"Do you know what the note said?"

Hawke shook her head "No, I don't."

"And when did you learn that Alistair was in Rivain?" Lelianna placed the tea cup down on the table and folded her hands together across her stomach.

"That's difficult to say. I think it was roughly a week before they helped me escape. I can't really be sure."

"And why can't you be sure? Do you just not remember?"

Hawke sighed and put down her own cup. "It is difficult to determine the passage of time without windows or light or anything regular to mark time by. I was also regularly drugged at varying dosages so I would sometimes sleep for a long time, sometimes for what seemed like only hours, but it was all guess work on my part. One of my captors – the one I think was in charge – told me that the king of Ferelden had been spotted in the port. As I said I think this was about a week before they helped me escape."

"Did you wait for someone to come and find you?"

"No, I just didn't have an opportunity to get away before that day. That was the first time there was a distraction large enough to make an attempt."

"You are an accomplished fighter, Marian. Do you mean to tell me that you could not fight your way out of a basement?" The incredulous tone Lelianna took and the disdainful look on her face provided Hawke with her first real jolt of anger so far in the proceedings.

With as level a voice as she could manage, she leaned forward a bit in her chair and spoke slowly, purposefully sounding as if she were trying to make a slow person understand what she was trying to convey. "Lelianna, I was beaten and drugged on a nearly daily basis while being starved. I had a dislocated shoulder, broken ribs, a broken nose, and my left eye was more or less useless due to the swelling on my face." She pulled up the sleeves of her shirt and displayed her wrists, the scars there still a rather livid pink. "I tried to get out of my bonds nearly every day, despite the cut of the ropes and the infection that set in. I also knew that there were at least 5 men in regular rotation as guards, but that there were many more who came and went. There was no way of knowing exactly how deep underground I was, where I was located, if I was still even in Rivain. I ran through every possible escape scenario I could think of and it was only a distraction that would work to get me out of there."

Lelianna looked at Hawke's wrists and then back up to her face. "Do you have other scars from your time there?"

"A few minor ones, small cuts on my legs."

"I see. So – you were born in Ferelden?" The sharp change in subject was odd to Hawke, but she assumed it was just to throw her off.

"Yes."

"So was I – where were you born?"

"A small village not far from Orzammar named Gosford Hollow. That's odd that you're Ferelden. I thought you were from Orlais."

"It's a common misconception. I was born near Amaranthine. And did you grow up there? In Gosford Hollow? Would anyone remember you?"

"No, I doubt that. We went back a few times over the years but they would likely remember my father, Malcolm Hawke, far more than me."

"Why didn't you stay? Where there issues in the village?" Lelianna actually managed to sound concerned. It would have been laughable had her entire fate and future freedom not sat in this capricious woman's hands. Zevran had been right. A wave of awareness of how right he'd been washed over her. She'd already been too incautious. She'd already allowed this inquisitor to get under her skin.

"No, there were no issues there. We simply moved around a lot to avoid causing suspicion. I am sure you are aware that my father was an apostate."

Lelianna smiled at her like she was a precious child "For the purposes of our conversations, Marian, please assume that I only know what you tell me. I would like to know these things from your own perspective."

"Okay. Well, my father was an Apostate. He never told us where he was from, but he lived in Ferelden before going to Kirkwall. He worked as a mercenary and hid the fact that he was a mage. I assume mercenary work took him the Free Marches, where he met my mother. They fled to Ferelden and were married."

"Do you know who married them? It is against Chantry law for mages to marry, you know."

"I don't know who married them."

"Hmm... that is unfortunate. It would be good to know who is performing illegal ceremonies and making people believe that they are living the Maker's will. Your parents, of course, were not legally married. Any children born of their union would have been illegitimate."

Hawke felt her blood boil, but outwardly only laughed. "I am sure his majesty will be pleased to know that we have something new in common then – we're both bastards."

Lelianna gave Hawke a polite, tight smile, "Indeed, that seems to be true."

There was a knock at the door and Lelianna called out to them. A servant came in with a tray of food.

"We will be here for quite a while this evening so I hope you don't mind that I've taken the liberty of having lunch and dinner arranged."

Hawke sank back into the chair. She hadn't realized just how long this interview would go on today but had already resigned herself to staying for as long as she was required. Her dislike of Lelianna ratcheted up by the second. "Of course not, Lelianna. It was very thoughtful of you."

"Excellent. Now – where did you live after Gosford Hollow?"

….

They continued like that for hours. Hawke provided a complete chronology of every tiny village, hamlet, city, or camping area they'd stayed in for more than a day over the course of her entire life, ending finally with Lothering. Many of the details of her early life were sketchy at best and she did not remember place names very well before she was about 5 years old. Every time Lelianna asked who, if anyone, at the village would remember her. And nearly every time she said that no one would. It was a stark accounting of how much like a ghost she'd lived the first 18 or so years of her life. She recalled people who would remember Malcom Hawke, people who would remember Leandra and even some who would likely recall Bethanny or Carver, but outside of Padraig, her first romance, and Old Man Barlow, she was sure that there was no one over that first stretch of her life who would remember her at all.

"Bethanny was very fond of you." It was a stab in the dark that it would land anywhere near she intended, but after being prodded at for hours, she had to try something.

"Bethanny? Your sister? Did I meet her?"

"When you were a lay-sister in Lothering. She was fond of you. We talked once in Kirkwall about Lothering and she remembered you, the pretty lay-sister with the beautiful singing voice and the lovely stories about Andraste."

Lelianna went still at that "Bethanny… did she have dark hair and eyes? Very quiet, very pretty?"

Hawke nodded "Yes, that was her. She was 17 when we fled Lothering, with the horde at our heels."

"I don't remember you at all from Lothering, but I certainly remember your sister."

"You wouldn't have remembered me. I spoke to no one. I only made deals with the Chasind who visited and avoided the merchants. Bethanny was the only one of us who regularly went into town and then it was only after my father died. She adored the Chantry and you especially. You made her feel like she wasn't alone – like she was loved by the Maker."

"Well," Lelianna's eyes were slightly out of focus "I appreciate you telling me that. I… I hope that it brought her comfort."

"It did. She continued to go to the Chantry with mother for services regularly once we were in Kirkwall. She may have been the only mage in the entire city-state to have the audacity to believe she wasn't reviled by the Maker. I have you to thank for that."

Lelianna nodded. "That will be all for this evening, Hawke. You will make yourself available whenever I have need of you."

Hawke rose, her legs feeling nearly numb from hours of sitting in one position, and left the room. She forced herself to walk with slow, measured steps toward her own suite though she wanted to dash off and lock herself inside. When she arrived, Ser Aaron looked at her with a worried expression "Are you alright, my lady? You look unwell."

"I'll be fine, Brendan. I'm just very tired." She tried to smile at him but she was sure it came across as more of a grimace.

Still looking at her warily, he opened the door for her. Inside, Zevran and Fenris were sitting near the fire with drinks. They were both on their feet immediately.

"We thought she'd taken you off to prison – it's been hours."

"Believe me, I know. Can I have one of those?" She pointed to the snifter of brandy Zevran had been swirling and he handed it over to her. She immediately kicked back the entire thing, draining it. Around the burn she croaked out "And another?" and held the glass out to him.

"It went that well?" He took the glass from her and went to get her a refill.

"I really don't want to talk about it. I'd rather go stand naked in the square and have people throw rocks at me than go through that again." She set to pacing in front of the fire place, pausing only to take the now full snifter from Zevran. "Would either of you be willing to spar with me? I'd be easy to beat, I just need to hit something."

"Hawke, what did she ask you about to get you this agitated?"

"It's not what she asked me – it's how. She has a very clear agenda and she is obviously just looking for answers that verify what she's already decided. She wears too much perfume and her tea is dreadful and she ordered these horrendous little mushy things that tasted like liver mixed with a lot of butter and then made a show of eating one and talking about how full she was. She's like every nightmare of Orlesian niceties I've ever had to sit through come to life and here to back me into verbal corners. And she kept saying his name over and over in that horrible accent "Alistair this" and "Alistair that" no matter how many times I said "his majesty" she just wouldn't take the hint and how am I supposed to remember where I lived in Ferelden when I was two years old? I was two years old! And insinuating that I just didn't try hard enough to get out of that basement in Rivain – like I just sat around waiting to be rescued – OH! AND APPARENTLY I'M A BASTARD AS WELL BECAUSE THE CHANTRY WON'T RECOGNIZE MY PARENTS' MARRIAGE!" Hawke realized that she was making herself hysterical and stopped pacing for a moment. "She clearly got under my skin. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't want to talk about this, really, I don't. I just… don't think I was prepared for that."

Zevran stood and put his arm around her shoulders "Come, let us hit things. Drink that first." Hawke dutifully knocked back the rest of the brandy. "Once you have exhausted your need to pummel things we will talk about how to deal with Lelianna, yes?" Hawke turned and hugged him, which took Zevran by surprise.

"Thank you, Zevran. I appreciate… well… you."

Unsure what to say, Zevran hugged her back, placing one hand on the back of her head. If he thought about it, he liked Hawke. In some ways she reminded him of himself. But what got to him more was that she reminded him of someone who was completely different from himself in all the best possible ways – someone he might have aspired to be if he had not been bought by the Crows.

"Do not cry on my shirt, my champion, it is silk and will stain."

Hawke pulled back from him, smirking. "Point me toward something to hit." Before leaving the room with him, she stopped and took Fenris's hand and he let her, allowing himself to be dragged along with them. Arm in arm with Zevran on one side, holding hands with Fenris on the other, Hawke realized that all of this was going to be far more difficult than she had imagined but that she was in fantastic company.

The brandy didn't hurt either.

...

Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Trying to get back into the swing of things, I promise. There's several thousand more words to go in this thing - and those are just the ones I've already written. ;)