Hugh Trevelyan wasn't overly fond of surprises. Truth be told, he had never seen the appeal, not even as a kid at Satinalia, when his mother had tried to come up with a special gift he hadn't expected. No, he much preferred to know in advance what awaited him, be it pleasurable or dangerous, and he always made sure to be well prepared.

So, when Varric started dropping hints that there was someone who wanted to meet him, but refused to say more, his first reaction was to snap at the dwarf to just get over it and come clean. And his irritation only grew when Varric led him up to a hidden corner of the battlements, glancing furtively around to make sure no one was following them.

"Honestly, Varric?" Hugh huffed in exasperation. "What is this all about? Couldn't we have met your mystery friend in the tavern, or in my quarters, if it's all so very secret? This is a little dramatic for my taste."

"Ah, but you see, she enjoys a bit of drama." The dwarf winked at him as they rounded a corner. "I approve, because quite frankly, it makes for far better stories." He pointed to the hooded figure that had stepped forth from the shadows. "And hers is the best story I've ever had the privilege of telling. Meet the Champion of Kirkwall."

"Inquisitor." The hood was tossed back to reveal a mop of dirty brown hair and a pale face with large blue eyes. "It's an honour to meet you."

Varric was grinning from ear to ear, pleased with himself. "May I introduce my good friend Izzy Hawke?"

"Izzy?" Hugh could have bitten off his tongue, but it was already too late.

"It's Isadora, actually." Hawke made a face. "No idea what my mother was thinking. I prefer Izzy, if it's all the same to you. Or just Hawke."

He had to admit the nickname suited her much better than her given name. Hawke wasn't quite what he'd expected. Her robes were shabby and travel-worn, and her staff a plain wooden stick, not nearly as fancy as his own Deathward. But if he concentrated, he could feel the aura of magic emanating from her. Judging from it, her power rivalled his own, but there was something odd about it, something untamed and raw that was vaguely disquieting.

"As you wish." Stiffly, he inclined his head. "And the honour is mine."

"Why?" Hawke flashed a merry grin at him. "Let's be honest, I completely fucked up Kirkwall. Mind you, I did my best. But not even Varric could deny that I only ever succeeded in making things worse."

"Not your fault, Iz." Varric gravely shook his head. "I doubt anyone could have done better."

"So…" Hugh cleared his throat. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

"Well, Varric mentioned that you had a run-in with good old Corypheus…"

She had his undivided attention from the moment she mentioned the darkspawn magister. And what she had to say gave him the first glimmer of hope in weeks. Here was someone who had fought and defeated the monster before, and lived to tell the tale. Besides, she offered to introduce him to a Warden named Alistair who supposedly had even more information about their foe and his plans. Hugh was sincerely glad to have her on his side, even if her manner still grated on him.

"Crestwood, you say…" He closed his eyes, calling up a mental image of the map of Ferelden. "Your Warden ally will have to wait a while. We can't possibly travel there at this time of the year. At the very least, we must wait until the passes are clear."

"But that could take weeks," Hawke protested. "Can't we risk it? I mean, how bad can it be?"

"Winter in the Frostbacks?" Hugh raised an eyebrow at her petulant tone. "Very bad indeed. You're lucky that you made it up here alive."

Cursing under her breath, Hawke turned away, kicking at her untidy backpack in frustration. Clearly, patience wasn't her strong suit.

"If I may make a suggestion…" Varric raised both hands in an appeasing gesture. "Iz, why don't you stay here for a while and join us for the First Day celebrations? Leliana can get a message to your Warden, if you're worried about him. But you look like you need some rest, and it would be fun to catch up."

"It sure would." She smiled, but at the same time she shook her head. "But I daren't stay, Varric. It's too dangerous. Isn't your Lady Seeker still hunting for me? And she isn't the only one."

"Leave Cassandra to me." Hugh used his best authoritative voice, the one he had perfected in many heated discussions back home in the Circle, to restore order when the Libertarians and the Loyalists were screaming insults at each other. "There's no way I'll let you risk your life in the mountains again. You can stay here, and the Inquisition will guarantee your personal safety, Champion. You have my word."

She stared at him for a moment, then her lips twitched. "Wow. For a moment there, I thought you were going to declare an Exalted March."

Hugh gritted his teeth at her mocking tone, but at the same time he didn't miss the tiny sag of her shoulders. For all her bluster, she was relieved. He bit back the scathing answer that had been on his lips, and contented himself with an angry glare.

"I'm sorry. That was out of line." Hawke had the grace to look embarrassed. "But really, please don't call me Champion anymore. It… It doesn't feel right, not after everything that's happened."

"Very well." He nodded. "I'll keep it in mind."

"So… When you said we could leave Cassandra to you…" Varric coughed delicately. "Does that mean you are going to talk to her?"

Against his will, Hugh grinned. He could just imagine the Lady Seeker's reaction when she learned that Hawke had finally been found. But he was confident in his ability to deal with her wrath. Though, perhaps…

"Perhaps it will be better if Hawke stays out of sight until I've informed Cassandra." He considered for a moment. "You can use my quarters for the time being. Please feel free to make yourself at home there and have the servants bring you everything you need." He brushed aside her protests. "Nonsense. I can find another place to sleep during your stay. My room is the safest and most comfortable option."

"See? I told you he's a decent guy. A real gentleman, too." Varric bent down to pick up Hawke's belongings. "Come along, Iz. I'll show you the way."

Hugh watched them leave, amusement and apprehension warring in his mind. Well, this is going to be interesting.

He had knocked on the door before entering. And he was sure he'd heard her reply, blithely asking him to come in. Which made the scene in front of his eyes all the more unexpected.

Izzy Hawke was lounging in the wooden tub, eyes closed and a blissful expression on her face. Steam was rising from the surface of the water and he could make out the scent of his favourite bathing oil, a mixture of sandalwood and coconut, with the faintest hint of jasmine.

Hugh was wondering how best to announce his presence, when she opened her eyes and favoured him with a relaxed smile. "I figured it was you. Did you tell Seeker Pentaghast?"

"Yes." He took a step closer, carefully averting his eyes. "Cassandra was furious. But she's a sensible woman. She will come around once she has calmed down. Don't worry."

"I wasn't worried. Varric told me I could trust you." Another smile. "Could you help me with my hair?" She indicated the tangled mess on her head with one hand. "It badly needs a wash."

That much was correct, but he still couldn't fathom why she was asking him, of all people. "I could ring for a servant girl, if you-"

"Oh, come on." Hawke rolled her eyes. "I won't bite. Pretty please?"

"If you insist." Gingerly, he approached the tub.

He was glad to see that the water had a milky sheen from the oil, enough to preserve a modicum of decency. But even so, his hands were trembling slightly as he reached for the soap and began to lather up her hair. To his surprise, the foam immediately took on a dirty brown colour.

"Yuck." Hawke grimaced at the sight. "I hate dying my hair. Let's hope it all comes out."

It did. It took two rounds of soaping up and rinsing, but when he'd washed out the last remnants of the dye, he could take a guess at her natural hair colour. A warm honey blonde, if he wasn't very much mistaken. He caught himself wishing it had already dried so he could see if he was right.

"Ah, that's better." Hawke stretched voluptuously, and the movement made her upper body rise a little bit out of the water.

Hugh swallowed hard. Her bare shoulders were glistening, and the soft curve of her breasts was taunting him, a tantalizing swell of flesh above the water line, smooth and round and perfect. Quickly, he turned away and reached for a towel.

There were faint lines of amusement around her eyes, but she refrained from commenting, and she kept herself decently covered when she got out of the tub, much to his relief.

"There is more we ought to discuss, but I think it can wait till tomorrow." Hugh made an effort to sound cool and professional. "If there is nothing else you need…"

"I'm fine, thanks. Just really, really tired." Hawke eyed the bed longingly. "Good night, Inquisitor. And thank you." She gestured vaguely at the room, tub and all. "For everything."

"Good night, Hawke." He withdrew discreetly. "Sleep well. You're safe here."

Izzy slept like a log, and when she woke, the sun was already high up in the sky. It took her a moment to make sense of her surroundings. The Inquisitor's personal quarters. She had to admit the man had good taste. No overstuffed Orlesian monstrosities, no heavy Fereldan oak, just plain, comfy furniture and lots and lots of books.

The bed was large and soft, and Maker, when was the last time she'd slept so well? She frowned a little when she realized the tub had disappeared during the night, which meant that the servants had been here and gone without her even noticing. Oh, come on, Izzy. He said you're safe. Still, it wouldn't do to get too complacent.

Experimentally, she bounced up and down a little on the mattress. Good quality, excellent for sleeping, and probably for other things, too. Though, judging from the Inquisitor's pinched look last night, he wasn't getting a lot of action. Poor sod. It wasn't because he was lacking in the looks department, that much was sure. He was attractive enough, with his high cheekbones and his shock of dark brown hair. Well-built, too, especially for a Circle mage.

Ah, well. It was no use contemplating the Inquisitor's assets at this point in time. She'd better get up and dressed, before all the important decisions had been made.

Making her way downstairs, she was met by a friendly servant girl who took her to the kitchens for a snack and then pointed her toward the 'war room', where according to her, 'the Inquisitor was in Council with his advisors'. Council with a capital 'c', as was evident from the girl's reverent tone.

"You mustn't disturb them, messere. It's best if you wait outside."

Izzy nodded and smiled and sent the girl on her way, then pushed the heavy door open and walked into the room.

They were all there. The Inquisitor was wearing heavy Orlesian robes that suited him far less than the plain homespun clothes he'd worn last night. Next to him, she recognized Cullen, sporting an atrocious fur cape over actual armour. He looked tired and pale, and a lot older than the man she remembered. Sister Nightingale was a familiar face, too, and the beautiful warrior with the short-cropped hair next to her had to be Seeker Pentaghast. She was scowling at Izzy and seemed about to say something when the Inquisitor raised his head.

"Ah, Hawke." If Hugh Trevelyan was irritated by her sudden arrival, he didn't let it show. Ever the diplomat. "How good of you to join us. May I introduce my team of advisors?"

"You may." She sauntered closer, to catch a glimpse of the heavy table set up between them. Most of its surface was taken up by a map of Thedas, with little markers distributed all over it. Cute. They were really going out of their way to emphasize that the Inquisition was not just some ragtag band of misfits.

"I do remember Knight-Captain Cullen." Picking a prettily carved marker from the table, she examined it thoughtfully, while fluttering her lashes at Cullen. "From the Gallows in Kirkwall."

Cullen flinched, though she wasn't sure whether it was because she'd reminded him of the past or because she was messing up his precious strategy games. Probably the latter. The Knight-Captain was a decent sort, but he'd always had a huge stick up his-

"No longer Knight-Captain, Hawke, and no longer a Templar." Shit, he sounded all sad and exhausted. What was wrong with him? "But I do remember you, too." Without a word of reproach, Cullen took the marker from her hands and carefully placed it back on the table.

The Seeker had followed their little exchange with barely concealed annoyance. "Isadora Hawke." She spoke with a harsh accent. "How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence."

"Cassandra, please." Trevelyan threw her a pleading look, then proceeded to introduce the other two.

"Hawke has valuable information for us." He made an inviting gesture. "Would you please repeat what you told me last night?"

Izzy nodded, suppressing a sigh as she braced herself for the tedious discussion ahead. How does he stand it?

"You know, I really don't think you should be here." The Inquisitor's tone was friendly, almost conversational, but for some reason he still made Izzy feel like a child who'd been naughty.

Trevelyan was looking rather pointedly at her feet, dangling over the armrests of the huge monstrosity that served as the Inquisitor's throne. There weren't many people about in the throne room at this time of the day, but she had already been on the receiving end of several disapproving glares. Apparently lounging on the throne was not an acceptable form of behaviour.

Of course, Izzy had never been one to stick to what was considered acceptable. And Trevelyan's prim and proper attitude only served to fire up her rebellious tendencies further. Leaning back in the soft cushions, she stretched luxuriantly and gave him her most innocent look. "Really? But why? I'm quite comfortable."

His face remained impassive, but wasn't there the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at his lips? Intriguing.

"I am sure you are." His voice remained perfectly measured. "But our Orlesian friends are sticklers for etiquette, and they don't appreciate your lack of respect for our institutions."

"And you mustn't offend their delicate sensibilities." With a sigh, she took his offered hand and got to her feet. "Honestly, how do you do it? I'd go stark raving mad if I had to put up with this shit on a regular basis."

He shrugged. "It isn't so bad. Hardly worse than Circle politics."

"Oh, yeah." She followed him down the stairs and through the throne room. "I keep forgetting, but you've spent all your life in a Circle, haven't you? That must have been horrible."

To her surprise, he chuckled at her words. "It wasn't, actually. I didn't mind so much. We got excellent training, and our life was peaceful and comfortable. A wonderful library, good food, warm beds. Good friends, too, and stimulating conversation."

"But you were locked up!" Try as she might, Izzy couldn't hide her indignation. "Locked up for no other crime than being what you are! How is that fair?"

"It isn't." His lips had set in a grim line. "But it was for our own safety. Have you ever seen an abomination? It's no laughing matter."

"I've seen my fair share, thank you very much." Who did he think he was talking to? "Kirkwall, remember? And anyway, you've been out and about for quite some time now, and I don't see you sprouting scales."

"I… I've asked Cullen and Cassandra to watch over me." There was no mistaking the strain in his tone. It was probably just as well that they had reached the courtyard by now and were alone, far from prying eyes. "If they see me succumb to temptation, they know what to do."

"But you won't! That's a load of horseshit." Izzy shook her head impatiently. "Look, I've been on my own all my life. It's fine. The big, bad demons don't stand a chance, if you're strong enough."

"Well, maybe I'm not." He almost shouted the words, and that was so out of character that it genuinely shook her. "Blight it, Hawke, is there anything at all that you take seriously?"

"Not since Ostagar, no." She bit her lip, feeling suddenly very tired. There was no point in arguing with him. He had his load to bear, just as she had, and Maker knew, she was in no position to lecture him. "My apologies, Hugh. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," he cut her off. "Good night, Hawke. Izzy," he added reluctantly.

"Good night." She watched him walk away, his shoulders tense under the fine velvet of the robes, his left hand balled into a tight fist.

A heavy load indeed. She didn't envy him.

This story was written for the CMDA Secret Santa Fic Exchange, as a present for Eastern Violet, and - as is the way with such things - it has sprouted several extra chapters in the meantime. Hope you enjoy!

Hugs and thanks to my wonderful beta suilven.