Hawke arrived at the Viscount's Keep early that morning, wearing his finest attire for his meeting with the King of Ferelden. He'd decided it best to go alone, as none of his companions would help to make a good first impression. Except maybe Varric, though he'd been busy as of late at the Merchant's Guild and could not come.
It didn't much surprise Hawke that Meredith, who had effectively become the leader of Kirkwall since the death of the Viscount Dumar, had known about King Alistair's trip to the Free Marches. Nor was he stunned by the exceptionally loud and rude tone she was using with him right in the center of the Keep. And, of course, the conversation just had to be about mages, and how bad they are, and all the other "I'm-a-Templar-here-me-roar" speech she often professed.
The king crossed his arms, though Hawke had picked up the skill to read people rather well during his time as a smuggler. From the hidden smirk on his face, it appeared the king was more amused than angry with the Knight-Commander.
"Let me guess," he said with an official but calm tone, "that's your final answer?"
"Three mages have fled to Ferelden, and you have intervened to protect them as if it is your right to do so," Meredith huffed. "What other answer did you expect, your Majesty?"
King Alistair returned his arms to his side and shrugged. "A 'maybe' might have been nice."
"I don't deal in 'maybes'. I deal in cold, hard facts—as should you. Perhaps when Ferelden next chooses a king, it will be one that takes his duty to the Maker seriously."
Meredith turned and headed for the door. She paused when she saw Hawke, but only briefly. A hard scowl that he'd long since grown accustom to seeing later, she was gone; leaving the three men shaking their heads in disgust at the most anti-mage woman to ever exist in Thedas.
"Well... that was awkward," said the king.
Hawke waved her off. "That's just Meredith's idea of Kirkwall hospitality."
"Really?"
Hawke nodded.
"Kirkwall brutality must rip the skin off your face, then."
"It does feel like that at times, your Majesty."
They all stood quietly for a while, staring at each other without saying a word. Hawke was confused by this. Did he call me or not? Varric better have not sent a fake letter just to embarrass me for his stories.
The man next to the king, who Hawke did not know, cleared his throat and broke the silence. "This is the Champion of Kirkwall."
King Alistair's eyes widened with sudden realization before extending a hand to Hawke. "Right! Sorry about that; my run in with the Knight-Commander left me mentally scarred for a moment."
Hawke accepted the hand and shook it firmly. "She has that effect on everyone."
"I'm Alistair, uh... king of Ferelden. As you likely already know." He gestured to the older, brunette man to his left. "And this is Teagan, my uncle. Sort of."
Teagan laughed lightly before offering his own hand to Hawke. "I'm actually Teagan," he said. "I'm only sort of his uncle."
Hawke had been reaching to shake Teagan's hand but stopped after hearing what the man had said. "What was that?" he asked.
"Hmm?" asked Teagan.
"Why did you just introduce yourself using the exact same words as the king but in a rearranged order, sounding like you were correcting him when you actually said literally the exact same thing?" Hawke asked.
"I... um..." Teagan rubbed his chin. "I'm not really sure. Now that you mention it, it does seem to have been entirely pointless and a waste of my breath."
The conversation continued, though Hawke couldn't let his mind break free of the awkwardness that was Teagan. Hawke had had himself introduced so many times over the years, to both friends, enemies, and every type of person in between, and he'd never done what Teagan had.
After the short meeting with the king, and a day of trying to prevent a war between the Templars and mages of Kirkwall, Hawke met with his companions that night at the Hanged Man for a drink. Even though he was one of the highest ranking nobles in the city, Hawke still preferred Lowtown's best tavern over any of the ones in Hightown.
He told them all about his discussion with King Alistair and Teagan; more specifically, he told them about Teagan's blunder.
"Are you sure you came from Ferelden, Hawke?" Varric asked him. "Because your countrymen certainly don't seem to reflect any of your foreign virtues."
Hawke downed his tankard and burped loudly. "I guess some people just don't have what it takes to be graceful like I do."