Chapter 1

The Man, the Myth, the Champion


Valena stood on the battlements, waiting for Varric and his "friend" to arrive. From the way Varric had talked about this friend, Valena had a sneaking suspicion she knew exactly who would be meeting her here at any moment, but her patience was wearing quite thin and she was antsy. She'd left her little ones with Josephine for now, knowing that a screaming toddler was not a selling point for a possible alliance/ally, nor was the incessant prattle of a four year old who wouldn't stop saying, "Mamae," over and over and over again. Still, she missed the weight of Balor on her hip and Miri tugging on her hand for attention.

A moment later, Varric appeared through the door, and Valena sighed, upset to see that the alleged friend was not behind him. "Well, where is he, Varric?" Val asked, the impatience clear in her clipped tone.

"Keep your shirt on," Varric replied in a jovial manner, seemingly unruffled. "He should be here at any moment."

Generally, Varric was one of Val's favorite people. She loved taking him with her on adventures and he was pretty good with her kids, Miri especially, who was at the age where a good story was the best thing in the world. However, at the moment, she wanted to shoot a blast of lightning at him, or possibly push him over the side of the fortresses walls. They'd spent weeks getting to Skyhold, a few nights further getting her quarters as the new Inquisitor set up and now all she wanted to do was tuck each of her da'len under an arm and sleep for as long as she could. But no, she was on the battlements in the freezing cold, waiting for a mystery man.

Val sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, silently counting down from five before she did something she'd regret. "Varric, I swear by the dread wolf that I will-"

"Sorry to keep you waiting," a deep voice cut in. The voice took her by surprise and Valena whirled around, hand automatically extending defensively and crackling with little electric sparks. The man immediately put his hands up in the classic, 'I mean no harm' manner, eyes widening. "Whoa, sorry. Thought you were expecting me."

Valena caught herself and straightened, the crackles emitting from her hand fading into nothing. "I was expecting you. I apologize," she replied stiffly. The first thing Valena noticed about the newcomer was that he was very dashing and that stunned her, if only for a moment. It was unlike her to be so quick to notice the attractiveness of another. Nevertheless, she did not let this deter her as she sized up the Champion who looked exactly as Varric had always described. He was a tall, barrel chested man with a messy crop of midnight hair that was a little on the long side and swept over his baby blue orbs. Equally dark hair was groomed into a neat, rugged beard, concealing what was no doubt a strong, defined jawline if his high cheek bones and proud nose were anything to go by. Possibly most notably, a swath of red was smeared across the bridge of his nose haphazardly. He wore light armor, very different from the Orlesian and Fereldan armor she'd familiarized herself with already. His pauldrons were furry, his breastplate had an almost shield-like extension rose up to cover a small section of his chin and his gauntlets were rather pointy. That didn't seem practical, she noted to herself. And a staff was slung across his back, announcing that he was a mage, just like her.

A smirk split his serious expression, turning him from handsome to roguish in the blink of an eye. "Jumpy are we, Madam Inquisitor?"

Valena, already annoyed by being kept from her littles, only grew more annoyed at his expression and his use of the the word Madam, which she found distasteful and too close to madame. She crossed her arms across her chest defiantly and glared daggers at him with hard green orbs. "Just 'Inquisitor' will be fine," she sniped.

Her tone was sharp enough that the men exchanged a glance, Hawke's brow raising a fraction and Varric giving a minute shrug in response. The Champion recovered quickly, though, his time in Kirkwall having been a study in powerful figures taking an instant dislike to him and him learning to work around that. "Where are my manners?" he asked, his tone still light and jovial despite the Inquisitor's ire. "My name is Gregory Hawke. You might know of me as the Champion of Kirkwall, though that's not a title I use much these days." He swept a little bit of a bow here, giving her another grin when he straightened back to his full height. "You may call me Hawke or Grey, if you like."

If Hawke had been expecting her ire to lessen, he'd been a fool. She was still just as cold when she replied, "And you may address me as Inquisitor or Inquisitor Lavellan."

Sensing this meeting was not going quite as smoothly as he'd hoped, Varric stepped in, hoping to soften Valena a little. "Hawke, the Inquisitor," Varric introduced, as if she hadn't already made her title perfectly clear. "I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus. You and I did fight him, after all."

A little bit of stoniness left Val's expression, replaced by curiosity. Gregory picked up on the shift, casually leaning on the side of the battlements and deciding to try a little bit of flattery on the iron woman before him. "Well, Inquisitor, you've already dropped half a mountain on the bastard. I'm sure anything I could tell you pales in comparison."

If Hawke wasn't imagining things, he thought he saw the edge of her lips quirk up just a tad in response and her voice was definitely not as harsh as it had been when she said, "Corypheus has already killed the Divine along with countless others, and he'll kill a lot more... unless we stop him."

That was a little bit of progress, at least, Hawke noticed. The use of 'we' signified that she was, at the very least, willing to work together.

Before Hawke could reply, a guard came sprinting through the door. "M'lady!" he exclaimed, sweeping a quick abbreviated bow before blurting, "Balor fell and scratched his hand on Lady Montilyet's fireplace and now he won't stop crying for you."

"Fenedis," Valena swore before turning to Hawke, "I apologize, Ser Hawke. If you'd just follow me, we can resume our meeting after I take care of this."

Gregory barely managed to nod before she gave him a little grateful smile and took off, running down the stairs with urgency. Before he followed, Gregory leaned down and softly asked Varric, "Who's Balor?"

Varric chuckled. "Balor is her two year old."

Hawke was struck dumb. For one, he'd never heard of the Inquisitor being married or otherwise involved with anyone. For another, he couldn't imagine the iron lady who greeted him nursing a scratch for a toddler. Intrigued further, Hawke, along with Varric, followed Valena down the stairs, though she was already halfway across the courtyard and she had disappeared into the fortress before they even made it down the stairs. Luckily, Varric seemed to know where they were headed since he didn't even pause before leading Hawke through a door off to the left of the main hall.

The woman who stood in the middle of the room they entered, holding onto a mocha skinned toddler who still had tear tracks staining his cheeks and was hiccuping into her shoulder, barely even resembled the woman Hawke met on the battlements. The dark red hair, green eyes and vallaslin were the same, but her face was soft and her voice was softer as she lovingly cooed in elvish to the little boy she held. She gently bounced him up and down, reminding Hawke of his own mother when Bethany or Carver had cried when they were little. The little boy's hands, which were several shades darker than her skin, Hawke noticed, were grasping bunches of her shirt in tiny clenched fists and his face was buried into her shoulder, though teary eyes did peak over at him, both hesitant and curious.

Another woman stood over by the desk in the corner of the room, wringing her hands. She was dressed in finery, all gold and blue, and looked to be Antivan or Rivaini, if her dark and silken looking hair, high bridged nose and darker complexion were any indicator. "My apologies, Inquisitor," she began, "I swear I didn't take my eyes off him but-"

"It's okay, Josie," Valena soothed, warmth and sweetness radiating from her tone as she continued to bounce the little boy on her hip. "He's going to fall from time to time. And anyway, I think most of these tears are because he missed his nap today and is tired." So saying, she adjusted the child in her arms so that he was facing her, rather than burying his face into her neck with the ease of a practiced mother. Her other hand came up and brushed his tears away with her thumbs. "Isn't that right, da'len?"

The child in question gave a watery giggle. "Mamae," he said, wrapping his arms around Valena's neck in a tight embrace.

Valena accepted the hug with a beam of motherly pride, gently stroking the nape of her son's neck and playing with the ends of his dark hair. "Hey, Josie, where'd Miri go?" Valena asked, looking over her son's shoulder at the Ambassador.

"Oh, yes, Warden Blackwall wanted to show her a toy that he carved for her," Josephine asked, seeming much more at ease now.

Valena nodded in understanding. "Can you send someone to tell Blackwall to bring her to my quarters? I feel like both of them could use a rest."

Josephine inclined her head in acquiescence. "Of course, my lady."

The Inquisitor turned to exit the room, and then paused when she came face to face with Hawke and Varric, as if just recalling the presence of the two men who'd followed her here. "Oh, Josie, this is Messere Gregory Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall." Grey winced at the title, hating the familiar sound of delight and surprise that escaped the Ambassador because it meant she had questions. "If you would, entertain him till I return." And, if he wasn't mistaken, he thought he saw a little, teasing smile on the elven woman's face as she brushed past him, child in tow.

Hmm, so she isn't made of stone after all, he thought to himself as he turned to watch her leave.

Valena did not return for half an hour or so, during which Josephine peppered him with questions. Varric excused himself early on in the Inquisitor's absence, fearing that now that Hawke's presence was known, it wouldn't be long until the Seeker showed up to kick his teeth in for lying, leaving Hawke to fend for himself. Josephine was delightful and curious, but oh, Maker, he was tired of reliving his days as the Champion. Isabela's and Anders' betrayals still burned in his chest when he thought of them and he missed his mother and sister terribly. So he may have stood up a little too quickly when the Inquisitor appeared once more, now sans toddler. "I appreciate your patience, Ser Hawke. A mother's work is never done." A small smile played at the edge of her lips before she gestured to the door in invitation. "Come, it'll be better if we finish our discussion in the garden."

Hawke blinked, stunned at her sudden friendliness, but gathered himself quickly. He nodded, and, before he could stop himself, stuck out an elbow for her to take so that he could escort him. His mother would be proud - he, however, was mortified. Her brows shot up and she stared at the offered elbow like it was an entirely foreign object. Hawke worried she wouldn't accept it with the Ambassador as witness to his shame, but after a moment, she slowly wrapped her lithe fingers around the proffered crook.

Valena easily instructed him on the path to the garden, though let him do the actual escorting. Once they arrived, she separated from him and heaved a sigh. "I must apologize for my behavior earlier, Ser Hawke," she began, not meeting his eyes, but looking over the garden, which was still a work in progress. Piles of stone were stacked on one side, the well was still boarded up, and there were some minor debris left to be cleared from years of disuse. "I sometimes feel that my duties as part of the Inquisition keep me away from my children too often, especially now that I have been named Inquisitor. I took my frustration out on you. That was unworthy of me. I hope you will forgive me."

"I appreciate the apology, Inquisitor, though you do not owe me one," he replied with sincerity. She met his gaze, a clear question in her eyes, to which he expanded, "I could not imagine being a parent when I was the Champion and I was just responsible for a city, not half of Thedas and a breach in the sky besides." Grey shrugged, noncommittal. "But please, Inquisitor, just call me Hawke."

Valena's lips quirked upwards again, her smile looking even somewhat playful. "Alright... Hawke," she said, testing out the name on her tongue, then offered, "And I suppose it wouldn't be terrible if you were to call me Valena." Suddenly feeling a bit shy, she clasped her hands behind her back and scuffed the toe of her boot into the dirt.

"Can I call you Madam Valena?" he teased. She looked back at him dryly, any bashfulness fading from her expression.

"Don't push it," she warned.

Hawke laughed jovially, but put his hands up in surrender. "As you wish, m'lady."

Valena shot him a playful glare, but couldn't seem to completely wipe the smile from her lips or the sparkle from her eyes.

Silence stretched between them for a while, but it wasn't uncomfortable or tense. Valena looked almost serene now and Gregory was just... enjoying her company, now that he was sure she wasn't going to fry him. And, Maker, he didn't mind looking at her either. The rumors he'd heard had not been false - she was quite beautiful. Her hair fell in gentle crimson waves, her eyes were the vibrant green of the forest and her features were soft and feminine, even the vallaslin that surrounded one deep green orb curling softly in on itself, lighter than most he'd seen as her's had been done in white. Still, a question kept popping up in his mind and he was unable to stop it from bursting forth. "So, Valena," he began, "I've heard a lot about the Herald of Andraste and now the Inquisitor, but I've never heard of her children or... her husband."

Valena winced when he said husband, and Gregory wished he could grab the words from the air and stuff them back down his throat, never to be uttered again. Her expression smoothed just as quickly as it had crumpled in pain, however, and she answered in an even tone, "My husband has passed into the beyond and I make certain that news of my children goes no where beyond these walls. I will not have them threatened or leveraged against me merely because of my position. Had you been anyone aside from Varric's closest, most trusted friend, you never would have known, either." A sharp cut of her eyes towards him let him know that she was completely serious now and he did not doubt her word

Not wanting to step on any further landmines, Gregory didn't press anymore about her deceased spouse, though his curiosity was running rampant. He pressed it back and nodded, deciding he'd done enough prying with his personal questions and that is was time to revisit his whole purpose here at Skyhold. "What do you want to know about Corypheus?" he inquired.

A little, appreciative hum escaped her. "Whatever you can tell me, Hawke."

Hawke told her everything he could think of. She settled on a tree stump adjacent a damaged bench that he rested on as he recounted his experience with Corypheus. They were both so engrossed, he in telling the tale and her in listening, that they barely noticed time passing and the sun beginning to set. Hawke had finished the bulk of his story and was answering Valena's questions when a little voice squealed, "Mamae!" Both of them turned to see a tiny form sprinting towards them at full tilt. Valena only had a moment to react, opening her arms for the little girl in a green dress to vault into. The little girl landed smoothly, Valena giving a little 'oof' when they collided, and the little girl wrapped her arms around the redhead's neck.

"Hey, Miri," Valena greeted with a big smile, giving the little girl in her arms a quick squeeze. "Where'd you come from? You know you aren't supposed to wander the castle alone."

"Ah, that's my doing, M'lady," a masculine voice intoned, causing Valena to look over at the door where the Knight-Commander stood, Balor hoisted onto his hip, the toddler's head resting on Cullen's thick, fluffy pauldron like it was a pillow. "One of my guards reported hearing something amiss in your quarters so I went to check personally. Turns out, little miss Miriel had been looking for her story book and knocked down a shelf." Cullen shot a look of mock rebuke at the girl that wasn't even mildly convincing.

Valena wasn't upset, but she still made the effort to give her own disapproving look, twisting her mouth to one side and narrowing her eyes at her daughter. Miri at least had the decency to look abashed as she peaked up at her mother through her eyelashes. "Sorry, mamae," she apologized shyly, tugging at a lightly curling strand of her strawberry blonde hair. "I wanted to read to Balor," she explained, but because she was only four, her R's were a bit on the soft side and it sounded more like 'Balow.'

Valena's disapproval melted into a good-natured eye roll. That sounded just like her Miri. "Thank you, Cullen," she remarked, giving her daughter another squeeze.

"My pleasure, Lady Inquisitor," Cullen replied, formal as ever. He approached them and set Balor down on the ground next to his mother. Balor, seeing there was no room for him on his mom's lap, sat on the stump next to her and gently leaned his head on her side. Cullen fidgeted, scratching at the back of his neck "I was actually wondering if I could take them down to see the Mabari sometime? Miri keeps asking about the 'doggies.'"

"Of course, Cullen," Valena affirmed. "I'm surprised you even felt the need to ask."

"Thank you, my lady," Cullen replied, inclining his head respectfully. "I'll take my leave, then."

"Bye, Cully!" Miri called after the man, waving. He chuckled and returned her wave.

"Yeah," Valena agreed slyly, waving herself, "Bye Cully."

The Knight-Commander turned a deep shade of pink at the familiar nickname. "U-uh, oh. Er, m-m'lady," he stuttered, nearly tripping over himself to give her another respectful nod and then retreat as quickly as he could back into the hold

Valena rolled her eyes again as he retreated. No matter how she tried to put him at ease, Cullen still refused to be anything less than formal with her. Even when she flirted, he only seemed to get flustered. Oh, well. Eventually, he'd have to relax around her. Valena was lost in thought when a gentle tug on her sleeve brought her back to reality. "What is it, Da'len?" she asked her daughter.

Miri was looking at Hawke with apprehension and curiosity in equal parts. "Who's that?" Miri asked in a loud whisper that Hawke could clearly hear, but fought not acknowledge so Miri wouldn't think he was trying to eavesdrop.

Hawke had been silently watching the whole exchange between the Knight-Commander, the Inquisitor and her children and now waited to see what the Inquisitor would have to say about him.

Valena shifted Miriel around on her lap so that she was facing outward, towards Hawke. "I'm sorry, Da'len. This is my friend, Gregory Hawke. He's been trying to help me with ideas to defeat the bad man. Hawke, this is my daughter, Miriel Cathrie, and you've already met my son, Balor Cathrie." Hawke immediately picked up on the difference between her surname and that of her children, but decided to leave that for another time. Besides, that was the far less pressing question in his mind. The real mystery that was eating at his curiosity was how very different the two children looked. Miri was fair, like her mother, with reddish-blonde hair, freckles, rather round ears and her mother's big, green eyes. The eyes, in fact, were the only thing her brother shared. Otherwise, he looked nothing like either his mother or sister. His skin was several shades darker and he had raven hair with not a hint of red. Hawke supposed that he'd taken after his father, then. Weird that none of her father's coloring had shown up in Miri, though.

Hawke gently reached out and grabbed Miriel's hand, giving her plenty of time to pull it away if she was uncomfortable, and gently brought it to his mouth for a little kiss. "It's nice to meet you, Miri."

Miri giggled and swiped her hand back, rubbing the part he had kissed on her dress with a huge grin. "Your whiskers tickle!" she exclaimed.

Balor, already wanting to copy everything his sister did, stood up and held out his hand, and declared, "Me, me, me!" Not wanting to disappoint, Hawke gave a shrug and kissed the little boy's hand too. He promptly shrieked in delight and ran back to his mother's side. "Tickles!" he exclaimed, showing his mother the back of his hand.

Valena's smile was warmer than the sun. "Yep, tickles," she affirmed, planting a quick kiss on his forehead, making him shriek again. "So, are you two about ready to go to dinner? I heard Iron Bull saying something about piggy back rides for well behaved little elflings. Do you think you guys deserve piggy back rides?" she inquired, a mock skeptical look on her face, like she wasn't sure they really deserved them.

"Yes!" both children replied zealously.

"Hmmm," she hummed, clearly only hamming up thinking it over for the amusement of her children. "Oh, all right," she relented. Both children exclaimed happily.

Hawke prepared to say his goodbyes for the evening when Valena turned to him with large, guileless eyes that twinkled with unconcealed mirth. If he had not seen it with his very own eyes, he would have never believed this was the same woman he'd met this afternoon. "Would you like to come? I'm sure you have some corrections to some of Varric's tales."

Hawke was caught off guard, but the idea was very appealing. He'd had a nice time talking to Valena, even if the subject matter wasn't particularly pleasant, and her children seemed very entertaining. It had also been a very long time - too long - since he'd sat down to dinner and drinks with friends and that was what he missed most of all about his days in Kirkwall. "Sure, I'd love to come to dinner. If you'll have me."

Valena's eyes twinkled when she replied, "Oh, I'll have you."