Skyhold is quite an impressive structure, the Inquisitor thought, her eyes gliding over the courtyard and towers of the old fort.
Too bad it's currently in tatters, she continued, noticing a particularly bad collapse where the entire roof had caved in.
No matter, they would get it fixed in time. The important thing was if they could fix it before He attacked again. The Inquisitor's brow creased, her mouth curling downward into a frown as she pictured the disfigured face of that demonic creature. The Darkspawn Magister, known only as "Corypheus."
"It's quite a sight, huh?" A voice from beside her asked.
"Indeed it is. Too bad it's in such a state of disrepair…" She answered, glancing slightly downward at her Dwarven companion, Varric.
The pair looked at each other for a moment, Varric wringing his hands together and the Inquisitor scratching just behind her pointed, elven ears, as they waited awkwardly.
"So…" The elven mage began, facing the ledge and leaning against it.
"So…" The dwarf echoed her, both in speech and in action.
"When is your friend going to show up?"
"He's… uh, usually on time."
"We've been sitting here for 30 minutes. Something's gone wrong, Varric."
"Just give him a moment, alright? He'll be here! …Eventually."
"I can't believe you talked me into this." The Inquisitor groaned, covering her eyes with a hand.
"That's your first problem." A third voice interjected, coming from behind the pair. "Varric's quite good at convincing people to do things."
Varric didn't move, even as the Inquisitor turned, her eyes wide in shock. A low chuckle escaped Varric's chest as the Inquisitor fumbled for words.
"I tried to warn her, Hawke, but she just wouldn't stop listening!" Varric replied, mirth in his voice, "It's such a hassle to have a personality as charismatic as mine."
"I can tell." The man said, a thick beard and head of black hair framing his face, a wheel of cheese tucked under one arm and a length of sausage links draped around his neck, "So, is this the girl you wanted to introduce me to?"
"Indeed, she is." Varric answered, turning and gesturing towards the Inquisitor, "This is Inquisitor Lavellan, the First of the Lavellan clan."
"A First? Interesting…" Hawke stated, tapping his chin with the loaf of bread in his right hand, "Well, she certainly seems my type, an elven mage, dark hair, bright green eyes…"
"Excuse me?" The mage in question asked, bewildered, one eyebrow quirking upward.
"You're excused." Hawke responded, taking a bite out of his bread, "Now, you wouldn't happen to practice blood magic, eh?"
"Blood magi- of course not!" The Inquisitor sputtered, confusion evident on her face.
"Oh well, I guess not." The man shrugged, turning towards the dwarf, "Thanks for the offer, Varric, but she's no Merrill."
"It was worth a shot at least," Varric replied, chuckling, "Good to see you haven't changed, old friend."
"Could someone please explain for me what's going on here?!" The Inquisitor interjected, glaring at the dwarf and human.
"I suppose," Hawke began, the twinkle in his eye fading, the grin on his face wavering just a bit, "But you don't need to be grumpy about it."
He took another bite of his bread, his ice blue eyes assessing the Inquisitor up and down as he silently pondered. The elven mage simply crossed her arms and stared right back at him, a slight frown gracing her face.
"Introductions first, then." The rogue stated, tossing the bread lazily off to the side, towards Varric. He extended the now empty hand towards the Inquisitor, dark metal claws hanging from the edge of his fingertips. "My name is Kenneth. Pleased to meet you."
The Inquisitor looked down at the man's hand for a moment before glancing back up to stare at his eyes again. He motioned with his arm slightly, and the Inquisitor looked down at the ground. Sighing, she took the man's hand and shook it.
"First Erien of the Lavellan Clan." The elf replied, meeting the man's eyes with a hard stare.
"Now that wasn't so hard, now was it?" The food-covered rogue asked, the small grin returning to his face.
The man, the Champion, then walked past Erien to the railing, setting the cheese wheel he was carrying on it. He leaned against the thick stone structure, interlaced his fingers, took a deep breath, and looked back at the Inquisitor.
"What do you want to know?" He questioned, the mirth from earlier gone, replaced by a withered gaze.
"How about something simple? Why were you taking so long?" The Inquisitor began, patting the cheese wheel, a small smirk on her face, "And why do you have so much food?"
The look on Hawke's face softened, and he laughed, his shoulders shaking slightly as he looked at the small elf woman in front of him. The Inquistor chuckled too, becoming infected by the cheerful rogue's laughter.
"I got hungry!" He answered, gesturing at the short dwarf behind him. "When I got here this lot told me to just stand here and wait. He promised me a good meal and a tall mug of ale, and here I am getting a sunburn and leg cramps!"
"Well, I thought that the ceremony wouldn't take so long, and whose fault was that, Inquisitor?" The dwarf chuckled, giving the Inquisitor an accusing look.
"Don't look at me!" The Inquisitor countered, raising her hands in defense, "Cassandra was the one who wanted the ceremony in the first place!"
"Yes, but she didn't give the long, inspiring speech, now did she?" Hawke reminded her, the grin on his face having returned to full strength.
Time had passed, the discussion on Corypheus had been discussed, and the heroes parted ways.
Hawke had snuck back down towards the stables, prepared his horse, and was ready to head out. He was just missing something before he could leave. What that something was, he couldn't recall, however.
He wandered out into the courtyard, his cloak masking his face and armor, both of which would have been easily recognizable. The darkness of night had already settled over the fort, but the night was anything but quiet, the moans of the wounded and the shouts of the Inquisition's heartiest supporters intermixing in what would have been absolute silence.
Skipping up the steps 2-by-2, Hawke entered the main hall of Skyhold, where a spontaneous banquet was being held, at the suggestion of the Herald of Andraste herself.
Weaving through the crowds of drunken revelers, Hawke was on a path for Varric's quarters, deciding to leave his Dwarven friend a note, at least, despite forgetting what his original intention was.
Reaching a side door, he reached out and grabbed the doorknob, his wrist twisting to open it.
"Kenneth!" A voice called out, the sound of his name registering over the unbound noise of the people of the hall.
Turning and looking towards the throne, illuminated by light from both the moon and the nearby torches, a small elven woman was waving to him, a smile on her face. Hawke met her eyes for a moment before turning back to the door.
Again, he turned the knob and began to push the door open.
"Kenneth!" The voice yelled, and again, the Champion paused. He looked back towards the throne, where the small elven woman was gesturing for him to join her.
He glanced back at the door for a moment, before sighing and shutting it. He made his way up to the throne and the long wooden table that had been set up near it.
"Inquisitor! Enjoying your party?" Hawke asked, pulling the hood off his head as he approached, slipping back into his casual, charismatic smile.
"My party?" The mage asked, her head tilting to the side slightly, "This party's for them, not for me. They needed some hope after Haven."
"Well, it's like I always say, Hawke," Varric chuckled from a seat to the Champion's left, "The best reasons to party are either when you win, or you barely escape death."
"And this is a good 'ol We-Didn't-Get-Murdered-By-An-Ancient-Arsehole party, yeah?" Another elf asked, blond bangs framing a mischievous face.
"Sounds like fun, Miss…" Hawke prompted, nodding in the elf's direction.
"Just 'Sera.' I'm not some stuck-up tit who needs a title, Champion." The elf replied with a grin, before taking a large bite out of a drumstick, the skin hanging out the side of her mouth.
"Well, isn't she charming?" Hawke asked, eliciting chuckles from the others seated at the table and a small frown from the woman in question. He looked around at them a bit awkwardly, noticing a large qunari, a bald elf, a stocky man, and- "Cullen?"
The Inquisition's commander turned to look at Hawke, surprise clear on his face.
"Hawke? What are you doing here?" The ex-templar wondered, his eyes widening in shock.
"I was called out here by our mutual friend here," Hawke began, gesturing towards Varric, "I heard you were named Commander of the Inquisition's forces."
"Indeed." Cullen nodded once, before continuing, "After what happened in Kirkwall… I didn't truly believe in the Templars anymore. I wanted to do better."
"This is certainly the promotion of the century, now that I think about it." Hawke joked, a smirk on his face.
"Glad to see you're getting along well." Erien spoke up from her throne, her smile growing, "Why don't you take a seat, Hawke? Rest for tonight, you can leave tomorrow."
Hawke paused, glancing over his shoulder for a moment, before looking back towards the table, where Varric and Cullen had joined the Inquisitor in staring at the Champion expectantly. He sighed, and opened his mouth to decline the offer.
"Please?"
Hawke stared at the woman, the look on her face and the innocent question making him stop. He breathed in once, smelling the familiar scents of damp wood and iron. He blinked rapidly, the action making the memory of Kirkwall's alienage disappear to be replaced by the main hall of Skyhold once more. He paused once more, thinking over his words carefully.
"You know what?" Hawke asked, a smirk growing on his face, "Why not? Get me some ale, we'll boast drunkenly about our exploits!"
"Hear, hear!" The Inquisitor replied, laughing and raising her own mug into the air.
The former Champion pulled out a chair and sat down, resting one gauntlet on the table as a mug was slid to him from Varric's seat at the table.
"Now, let me introduce you to my friends…" The Inquisitor began, pointing out certain people at the table, "You already know Varric and Cullen, of course, and you've already met Sera…"
As the Inquisitor continued, Hawke brought the foul-smelling mug up to the smile on his face.
Just like old times in the Hanged Man, Hawke thought.