Viscount of Kirkwall, Marian Hawke, Champion of the city-state she now led, stood in her old home. The Hawke manor, and previously the Amell manor. The place where her mother had grown up. She had fought off slavers, and braved the deep roads for this home. She had lost her older brother there, and then her mother to filthy blood mages afterward. Her father had died when she was young, and her sister crushed by an ogre before they even reached the city. This was all she had left of her bloodline, and she was expected to leave it behind, and live in the quarters in the keep. While the space provided for her there was more than plenty, and it was quite comfortable, no to mention closer to her work, she still didn't want to go. Not only for the memory of her family, but also because the home had a direct route to her Darktown healer/warden/technically renegade lover, Anders.

Speak of the devil, he appeared through the basement door, though he seemed in more of a hurry than usual. She raised an eyebrow at his disheveled appearance, and wondered what had him so worked up. But she needn't ask, he went on to tell her without so much as a hello.

"The warden commander is coming! Why is the warden commander coming?" He blurted, golden eyes wide in panic. She smiled slightly, and shook her head.

"Because we have a massive darkspawn issue when we shouldn't. And what are you in such a fuss about? It's not as if she'd remember every warden she worked with." Hawke said, laughing a little at his paranoia.

"No, you don't understand, Marian. She conscripted me. I stayed with her constantly for six months. She'll know exactly who I am." He said, and she was a little taken aback. He had never told her about this bit of adventure.

"And why have you never told me about it?"

"Well, there's a lot of warden secrets involved. And I hit on her. A lot." He said the last half meekly, hoping that she wouldn't pull her staff out of nowhere and bash his head in.

"I don't care. But maybe letting me know that you were best friends with the commander may have been helpful."

"She hated me actually. I was just less angst than the dailish lady, and we were the only two mages that she could find after the massacre."

"What massacre?"

"Well, at the keep, there was a attack from the darkspawn, and they killed most of the wardens. It was huge. But I was in the prisons, so I managed to survive until she got there. Bringing us back to the point of her coming here, recognizing me, and stringing me up like a ham." He said, still in obvious distress.

"If the templar won't take in an apostate because he's with me, why would she risk it for one renegade warden that has been no trouble to anyone."

"She won't be afraid of you, and with good reason. She'd have a blade in both our throats before we could start to cast a spell."

"It'll be fine, love. I promise."

"Fine. But if she kills me, I'm haunting you."

"Deal. Now come to bed, Anders." Hawke laughed once more and took his large warm hand in hers, the man following her like the dog he had kicked out of the bed to make room for himself.

Warden commander Lyna Mahariel walked through the city of Kirkwall as the sun began to rise. The town was not yet awake, though the streets had cleared mostly of the pests of the night. The drug lords had their minions back in whatever cave they came from, but the fiery haired elf did not let her guard down. While at her own home, she was too respected, and feared, to be attacked, she had no such reputation here, and it was perfectly conceivable that a gang think that she would make easy prey. She had a large bit of coin in her purse after all, and gang members rarely seemed to look at her blades instead of that fact.

One was a flame enchanted long sword given to her by Wynne after the Archdemon was dead, and the other was a wickedly sharp Dailish sword, enchanted with electricity. She liked to call that one tempest, and the flaming gift Dante.

And, soon enough, a group of twenty or so men came out, most of them with mabari mutts by their side. She knew they were indeed mutts, because she had been scouring the breeders looking for a dog that could possibly replace the one who had hunted her down after she had saved him at Ostigar, and then died in the battle for Denerim.

"Hand over that heavy purse of yours, girly, or we'll have to cut more than that from your pretty little body." The leader of them said, a sadistic smirk on his face. She sighed, wondering if the bright red warden insignia on her leather armour wasn't enough to let them know she was one. Maybe the griffin wasn't that recognized anymore?

"I'm really starting to wonder if there's something about being a warden that makes people want to attack you. It's like some part of you scumbags knows that you deserve to be wiped off the earth." She said, getting tired of dealing with the fools.

"Who do you think you are? One warden still doesn't stand a chance against twenty Dog-Lords!" Was the retort?

"You know what. I'm done dealing with you. Just hurry up and try and kill me, so that I can find a place to stay for the night." She growled, her exhaustion making her more irritable than usual, and at her best she had quite the temper.

"You have guts."

"And you'll soon be missing a few of yours. Can we get this over with sometime today?" she was ready to just throw her knife at him when, from the demolished ruins of a mansion behind her, a tan elf emerged. He had snowy white hair, and the strangest tattoos she had ever seen, as well as a sword larger than him, though the way he held it out with only one lithe arm showed that he had quite a bit of experience with it.

"You fools have made a ruckus in front of my home for the last time. I was sleeping." He said, his voice slightly slurred, as if drunk, or more likely, hung over.

"Indeed they have. But I can take care of it." She said, drawing her own swords.

"And why do you think that you, a woman, warden though you may be, can take them on alone?" He asked, and she grit her teeth.

"You sound like fucking Sten. I've killed gangs bigger than this with semi-lethal wounds. I killed an archdemon and lived, for the Maker's sake." She said back, and the gang seemed to step back a little.

"Wait, you're that warden?" The dog lord asked, and she sighed.

"And besides, if fighting with dwarves had taught me anything, it's that fighting with a hangover is the only thing more dangerous than fighting drunk. You'd be more of a liability than anything."

"You doubt my skill?"

"Not at all. I doubt your current state of health. Drink some coffee, and we can fight tomorrow." She said, and this only seemed to make him angrier.

"I'm perfectly capable of fighting in any state of health, in spite of what your dwarves say." He growled, and the woman in her found his voice to be the most attractive thing to ever hit her eardrums. And his body was one of the best she had ever seen as well, the tattoos giving it an exotic appeal.

"You may want to put on a shirt. You could get raped otherwise, letting the world see a body like that." She said, mostly to change the subject. She was very good at reading people, and he was an open book. He had confidence issues, even though he never showed them, and if any one poked at the tender spot of inferiority, he clawed at them like an angry cat. This, however, would throw him off. Direct compliments had done the same to Zevran, the Antivan elf who had overdone his flirting, simply to prove he was charming.

"W-what?"

"Well, you got a nice body to start with, but then those fucking tattoos, man. You're lucky I want to be friends with you, or I may take advantage." She said, smiling at him, and watching him blush though he kept the best poker face she had seen short of Qunari.

"Just go away. The dog lords have already left." He pouted, not meeting her eyes anymore.

"And whose fault is that? Besides, I was hoping that I could maybe rent a room from you. I'd help with the house, and it seems as though you need that much, and pay for the duration of my stay."

"And how long would that be?"

"Until I've eliminated the darkspawn threat, and can go home to my keep."

"And your name?" She was happy to see this was going so well. He seemed to be a fellow of high morals, or at the very least, not the type to kill her in her sleep.

" Warden Commander Lyna Mahariel. Pleasure to meet you…?"

"Fenris." He said, still not meeting her gaze. She took this opportunity to stare at the tan flesh exposed to her. She may not know him, but he was still hot as fuck, and no straight woman on earth would pass up a chance like this.

"Just Fenris?"

"Just Fenris."

"Little wolf in Tevinter, right?" She asked, and his green eyes went big, and turned to her. She shot hers up to meet them, not wanting to be caught in her ogling.

"How did you know that?"

"Well, I went to a world conference there once, and I spent a year learning the language. Then I only spent a week there before they exiled me for all eternity." She said, and instead of being afraid, he seemed to approve of this.

"And why is that?"

"I almost killed a magister. There was this little girl, and she accidentally spilled wine, just a drop, and not even on him or anything expensive. So he smacked her, making her drop the cup, and then beat her again for spilling more. Needless to say I wasn't sitting down after the first smack, and before the third, his nose was broken, he had two black eyes, and he was unconscious and choking on his own blood. But I bought the girl from him, and sent her to work as a serving girl for King Alistair. Turns out she was good with flowers, so she does his gardens now."

"I see. Then perhaps you staying here will be acceptable after all. I don't cook or clean, so you do it all, as well as ten sovereigns a month, or we'll be parting ways here."

"Sounds good. Wait, you aren't some kind of pervert are you?"

"I'm sure everyone is some kind of pervert, Commander, but I am yet to be identified. Certainly not the type who stares at people while I think they are looking away." He said, and her face turned a soft pink at being discovered. Anyone who could out-rouge her was fairly crafty. She liked this guy already. "Follow me if you wish."

She did as he instructed, trailing behind him until he told her that the entire west wing would be hers, so long as she didn't mind cleaning up slaver bodies from ten years prior. She thought he was joking, until she realized that he wasn't the type to joke.

But it was somewhere to stay, at the very least. She agreed, paid him three months rent, and went up the stairs to find a place to sleep. Hopefully he hadn't put the bodies in the beds.

"Lady Viscount, the Commander is here." The guard said, and Hawke nodded, still under the impression she actually had a choice in the matter. She had yet to understand that the one in charge was the pale, tattooed, redheaded elf walking into her office.

"You must be Commander Mahariel. I'm Marian Hawke. It's nice to meet you." She extended a hand, which the shorter woman took, staring her straight in her lyrium blue eyes.

"Indeed. As you likely know, I'll be taking control of any special units you've assigned to assist in this problem, though I likely won't use them for much but information, out of their safety mostly, and I would like you to be aware that any request from asking for a guard's assistance to a major building project will be fulfilled or I'll be gone. Understand?"

"I do. Though you cut right to the chase, don't you. Either way, I have no special units, because I don't really know how to deal with darkspawn more than any other thing I need to kill. That's why I called you in."

"So you're telling me you made no preparations for if I didn't show up? Maker, I heard tell you were much smarter than that. Then again I suppose you are new to leadership. I was the same way when I was used to doing everything myself."

"You talk a lot."

"I'm used to people listening. Either way, I simply wanted to announce my presence. I'll be checking in whenever there is development, as I'm sure you would prefer."

"That I would. Thank you, Commander."

"Oh, and Tell Anders that I'll be needing him. He's to train the mages tower. They rarely add up to what they are designed to." She said, and Hawke's eyes went wide.

"You know Anders is here?" She asked, seemingly shocked, and a little defensive.

"I'm the warden commander, and the Hero of Ferelden. I know everything. Plus, I stationed him here as far as the books are concerned. I knew that he wouldn't be staying when I conscripted him. He was a runner, and always was. But he was strong, and a good man in spite of the fact that he was a little rough around the edges. Don't worry. I won't be reporting him. Though, who I would report him to, I don't know." She smiled slightly at the viscount.

"So you're telling me you covered for him, without telling him that you were covering for him!"

"I was going to. I had just put it in the records, and was going to tell him when I found a note saying that he was leaving. I figured that this would be the place he went anyway, since it's the closest place without a warden encampment. We didn't have any reason before. Now we find out that the darkspawn seem to be rebasing themselves not around Ostigar, but fucking Kirkwall. At least that's the only explanation I can come up with. Either way, tell him to get his feather'd ass in gear, and not to fly away again."

"I will. I suppose I should thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, Viscount. You haven't seen me when I get down to business; you'll have that pretty wand of yours out before you know it."

"And how many of my men will you be utilizing in your search?" Hawke asked, lyrium blue eyes questioning.

"I mean this as nicely as possible, but I won't be using any of your men. I'm used to small parties of three or four, and of those only the people I trust. I'd rather work alone."

"And if you run into a horde?"

"Then I have a better chance than a dozen of your men. I know darkspawn like the back of my hand; in fact, I probably know them better, what with me constantly wearing gloves." She laughed, before walking from the room, lithe elven frame straight and confidant as she strode from the office of a woman with the power of a King.

Lyna walked out into the morning sun, her red hair catching the light. She wondered if her new landlord would be awake yet. She had always been an early riser, and considering his previous hangover, he likely wouldn't be, especially not this morning. Now that she thought about it, she hoped that he even remembered making the deal. She was confidant of her fighting abilities, but Anders would have to be even better with healing than before if she was going to go toe to toe with that one. She sighed, hoping that offering him food would be an acceptable way to pacify any anger he may have towards her. She doubted that it was a hustle, considering that wasn't the kind of place that people with large sums of money usually stayed, and he was far too gruff to be a schmoozer.

As she pondered the various circumstances that could await her arrival in her new temporary home, she bought five fruit pies from a vendor on the street, who looked quite overjoyed when she paid the outrageous price he demanded for them. She always worked under budget at the keep, knowing all of the merchants, and having saved their lives enough times to get large discounts, and as such always had plenty of extra coin should she need it. It was a perk to being the hero of a nation. She ate two of them on her way back to the ratty manor, and was nibbling a third as she walked in, to find Fenris in the dusty foyer, flipping one of the golden coins she had handed him the night before up into the air, catching it, only to flick it up again. He was wearing spiky armor, though it appeared to be mostly leather, and his gloves, which he had not been wearing before either, had claw-like points to each of the fingers.

"I was wondering where you went." He said, and you raised an eyebrow.

" We agreed that you would be my landlord, not my father. I can go where I please." You said, wondering if he was trying to start an argument.

"Not because I want control over you, simply that I wondered if you would be keeping your promise of food. Though it seems you are a woman of your word." His gravelly voice said, and you handed him the remaining two pies. They were relatively small, enough so that two would be less than stuffing for a grown man, but three barely filling for a warden metabolism.

"Men and their stomachs." She chuckled, not bothering sitting down.

"And you don't feel hunger, then? I find this unlikely by the crumbs on your armor." He raised an eyebrow, and She sighed.

"Well played, Fenris. Well played."