A/N: Dear readers, I apologize for a new story and no updates on the others. Writers block, real life chaos, and holidays seem to be getting in the way. But I didn't want this time of year to go by without the opportunity to say how much I appreciate all of you and your support, and wish you all Seasons Greetings and a Happy New Year! *Hugs and kisses*.

Carver was exhausted and could only think of sleep. It had been a long and tiring day, and within seconds the armor was off and he wished for nothing more than dreams to take him. Before he could collapse onto the bed though, he noticed several parchments rolled up and tied with a string on the blanket. An odd place to find such a thing he thought before untying the knot and smoothing out the pages.

At quick glance it appeared to be a bunch of letters; Carver browsed each one quickly at first, then slowed his pace as he studied the words. Support, friendship, loyalty, all written on the pages within his hands from his own father Malcolm to a templar in Kirkwall. It was the templar's name that had Carver's heart racing: Ser Maurevar Carver.

Often Carver wondered if he had any place in this world, any purpose or meaning to his existence. He didn't know how this information had come to him, or even how someone managed to find these letters in the first place. But to have this piece of his father's past, to know why he was named and the meaning behind it, gave Carver a renewed sense of purpose. His father obviously trusted this templar with his life even though he was a mage.

Carver smiled towards the ceiling as he drifted off to sleep, finally feeling like he had done the right thing by joining the templars.

XOXOXOX

Aveline was furious at first to see the shield laying outside her office door. An inscription on the inside of the shield read, "worn by the one true Ser Aveline." Was this a joke? Did one of her guards put it there on purpose to mock her? Her grip on Wesley's shield tightened as she turned over this new one again to study its front. Who would do such a thing?

Thinking on the history of the shield and the name behind its making, Aveline's thoughts drifted to her father. He had given her the name based on the same woman the shield was created for. Her father always loved to tell her tales of Ser Aveline, the Knight of Orlais. The memory caused her to smile; how her father loved his stories. And as she placed both the new shield and Wesley's on her desk, she realized she now had two items to remember the two men in her past that she had loved the most.

Aveline put aside her anger as she fitted the larger shield on her arm. It was of fine craftsmanship; perhaps it would be useful after all. And maybe whoever left it for her meant it as a gift more than a way to tease her. The more she thought on who had a tendency to find random items with hidden meanings in Kirkwall, the clearer it was who had given it to her.

XOXOXOX

Norah delivered Varric's order to his room as she had done every night since he moved into the Hanged Man. Tonight though, she had a special delivery for him as well. "This came for you. Corff asked I bring it up."

"Thank you," Varric said as he took the small box from the serving girl. He handed her a few coins. "I hope the patrons behave themselves for you tonight."

"The drunker they are the bigger the tips," Norah commented with a wink as she walked out of his room.

After taking a sip from the ale-filled mug, Varric opened the package he had received. Inside was a ring; his father's signet ring. Last he knew Bartrand had pawned it to pay for the expedition into the Deep Roads. How did it end up back in his possession? It was oddly the sort of thing that would happen in his stories he thought, placing the ring on his finger.

Varric was never one for sentimentality, but having his father's ring back made him smile. He lifted his mug in the air, silently thanking whoever had returned it to him.

XOXOXOX

Anders rolled over in his cot, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he groaned about the upcoming day ahead. No doubt filled with healing Ferelden refugees, or being dragged off somewhere by Hawke to get into trouble. His muscles still ached from yesterdays excursion, and he stretched his body like a cat to work out the stiffness that settled there.

He got out of bed and walked towards the hook on the wall where his robes hung. It wasn't until he removed the robe that he noticed the amulet hanging there. Upon closer inspection, Anders recognized the Tevinter Chantry amulet and took a step back, scanning the outside clinic for any sign of who may have left it. How did it get there? Someone had to have snuck in, for he didn't remember it being there last night before he went to bed.

Daring to touch such a thing, Anders removed the amulet from the hook and held it in his hand. To imagine life in Tevinter; a place that had freed their mages from the Circle. To be a mage in Tevinter would be glorious indeed, despite protests to the contrary by Fenris. Freedom, that's what this amulet meant. A symbol of freedom, a goal to strive for. It may be sacrilege to wear it visibly, but secure under his robes...

Yes. A reminder for the freedom he was beginning to work for not only for himself but for every mage in Thedas. Whoever had left this gift for him must have seen it the same way, even taking the time to hide it for only him to find. Anders considered the possibilities of who could have performed such a stealthy operation.

XOXOXOX

Isabela returned to her room later that morning after an exhausting evening at the docks. It was always fun risking being caught at enjoying the pleasure of a man's company in the warehouses down there. Parlow was wonderfully flexible and his stamina was unmatched; except of course for a Wardens.

Immediately she knew someone had been in her room, and Isabela proceeded with caution. Her traps hadn't been set off; poison darts still securely set in the walls by the nearly invisible string, ankle traps open and ready by her bed. Whoever had trespassed knew what they were doing, and more importantly knew exactly where to step to avoid the magical trap she had Merrill setup for her a week ago.

"Well that's new," Isabela said to herself as she noticed the object on her pillow. A clear bottle with a miniature ship carved in great detail. The pirate sat on her bed, reflexes sharp as she avoided one of her poison darts that shot towards her. She had nearly forgotten about that one.

Though the ship wasn't a perfect match to the one she had lost, Isabela still loved it. She studied it from all angles, noticing the details of the deck, the outside of the hull, even the small guidance wheel. It was a fine gift indeed, and a wonderful surprise, that had her smiling all day as she set it on her nightstand. Any number of lovers could've given her this gift, but Isabela only knew of one person who could get it into her room.

XOXOXOX

Lost again, Merrill sighed as she began to pick up the string and follow it through Lowtown. She had tried getting home on her own but that didn't work out as planned, and it had taken her an additional hour just to find a piece of string that she had left behind earlier that morning. It was only with the help of Lady Elegant that she had a piece to follow, and did so now while avoiding the glances of those in the market.

The string led her safely to the alienage and she grinned as she saw the big tree welcoming her home. Odd though that the string didn't end on the stairs where she had started it, but it kept going towards the tree. Merrill followed it with curiosity, wondering if someone had maybe had it caught on their feet by accident.

She was led to the base of the tree where the end of the string was tied to an object wrapped in cloth. Merrill carefully untied the knot and pulled back the fabric to find a wooden Halla, easily recognized as one of Master Ilen's pieces. She settled beneath the tree and held the gift in her hand. A sweet gesture, and a cute way to deliver it to her Merrill thought. Who would have been so clever or nice enough to give her a gift in the first place?

XOXOXOX

It was late when Elthina had summoned him, and it was with a heavy heart that Sebastian made his way to her office. Lately things hadn't been the greatest between them with his indecision to remain with the Chantry or return to Starkhaven. Her wishing to speak to him at this hour could only bring either bad news or another confrontation she wished to have with him.

He was surprised to learn that it wasn't what he expected. "You know we don't allow weapons in the Chantry Sebastian," Elthina had said to him. "But I believe the Maker will understand the exception."

His eyes widened when Elthina retrieved the weapon and handed it to him. "This...this is my grandfather's bow. But where did you get it?"

"I found it here in my office," the grand cleric explained to him. "As you are the only archer I know of it was no great leap to assume it was yours."

Sebastian ran his hand along the carved wood of the longbow, remembering the history behind it and the stories his grandfather had told him. It was from a time his future was with the army of Starkhaven, and given his recent internal conflict Sebastian took it as a sign. He was meant to be in Starkhaven, take his rightful place as Prince, and protect his people as he was meant to do.

XOXOXOX

Fenris held the sword in his hand, admiring the replica as if seeing it for the first time. A Blade of Mercy, seen often in the Imperium, and now he had one of his very own. Finely crafted he thought as he swung it around the empty mansion, testing its balance in his hand. He had found the weapon standing just inside the front door, no hint of who had left it there.

Any one of Hawke's companions could have found it and left it for him, but why not give it to him personally? Fenris knew he wasn't the approachable type; perhaps they still feared him. Rightly so he mused, he was created to be feared. Still, that someone had taken the time to give him the sword was a thoughtful gesture.

He ran his hand along the blade, the runes coming alive under his touch. Much like his own markings; deadly when activated, but a subtle beauty of their own to look at. At least that's what Hawke and Isabela had each told him at some point. When he looked at the lyrium within his flesh he saw no beauty there, only pain. Admiring the sword now however, Fenris could see why they had come to their conclusions. Perhaps there is beauty in something so dangerous, whether it be flesh or steal.

XOXOXOX

Hawke entered the estate quietly, though why she continued to do so she didn't know. Her mother was gone now and wouldn't come running from her bedroom, or scold her for coming home so late yet again. It wasn't easy getting used to her not being there, but Hawke found some habits harder to break than others. It had only been a few weeks since Leandra died and Hawke was adjusting as best as she could.

Her friends were there to support her all in their own ways during this time, and for that she was thankful. It was the reason she had gone around town leaving gifts for all of them in secret. She was never really comfortable with showing appreciation for them outwardly, but this was her way to show them all that she cared about them. They had been a constant support in her life since she had come to Kirkwall, and she thought they could all use a reminder of how special each of them was.

When she entered the living room Hawke had a suspicion that something just wasn't right. It was late enough for Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana to be asleep, yet the fire in the fireplace burned brightly and the sconces on the walls were all lit. Normally these things were extinguished as their final duty before bedtime. Unsheathing her daggers, Hawke began cautiously searching the estate.

Every room had been checked, and it concerned her that the servants were not in theirs. The last room to check was her own bedroom, and Hawke took a deep breath before opening the door. If there was nothing inside, she would be spending the rest of the night searching Kirkwall for them when all she really wanted to do was sleep.

A chorus of voices startled her as a yell of "surprise!" nearly knocked her off her feet. All of her friends were packed into her bedroom including her missing servants. After recovering from the initial shock, Hawke couldn't help but laugh as she saw eleven people squeezed into the room.

It wasn't until she scanned the happy faces that she realized her brother was there as well, and she ran to him and threw her arms around him in a loving embrace. "Carver!" she exclaimed. "How are you here?"

"Special pass," he told her as he hugged her back.

Hawke wiped a tear as she pulled away from him and looked at the sea of her friends. "What are you all doing here?" she asked.

Varric stepped up. "It seems some mysterious gift giver visited all of us," he said. "We were wondering if you knew anything about that?"

Her cheeks flushed as she avoided their gazes. "I don't know what you're talking about," the badly spoken lie escaped her lips.

Varric nodded. "That's what we thought. So to celebrate this mystery gift giver, we thought we'd throw a party. And since you have the biggest house, here we are."

Hawke was thankful she wasn't pressed further on the matter, but seeing as they were all there she took the opportunity to say what she had really wanted to say to all of them. "I'm sure whoever gave you those gifts did so because they wanted you all to know how much you mean to them," she began. "There's a time to remember those we've lost, but there's also a time to appreciate those that are still in our lives. And so small tokens of affection such as gifts is simply that; a reminder that you are all loved and appreciated, and I...uhm..that person is thankful you are here."

And as they filtered out of her bedroom to the real party downstairs, Hawke silently thanked the Maker for each and every one of them. They have had their fights and their arguments. Disagreements and words spoken in anger. But they have also supported her when she needed them the most, and she hoped that they all knew how much they really meant to her.