Author's Note: This story takes place about two weeks after the Legacy DLC and two months after the Mark of the Assassin DLC. I deviate from canon just a touch here, since I reference the fact that Hawke brought everyone with her to Orlais instead of the usual three companions. I figured it would make for better banter, and since Hawke was technically nobility at the time, she could have the excuse of arriving while accompanied by a personal retinue.

Enjoy!

The Hanged Man, Lowtown Kirkwall, Nine months after the events of Shadows Within…

The pleasant drone of conversation greeted Merrill as she pushed open the door of the Hanged Man. She was more than fashionably early for Varric's weekly game of Wicked Grace, but she didn't think the stocky dwarf would mind. She didn't want to be late, especially since Hawke had sent word she would finally be joining them again.

In truth, Merrill was far more interested in greeting her friends than actually playing cards. Hawke, Varric, and Fenris had just returned from some strange business in the Vinmark Mountains north of Kirkwall, after being absent from the city for almost two weeks. The stories of their adventures would surely be as exciting as always.

She had heard the stories of what had happened during their absence; Hawke had supposedly encountered and defeated an ancient Tevinter magister and unraveled some mystery involving her father. The trio had returned triumphant almost a week ago, but since their return Merrill had seen nothing of the mage or any of her other companions.

It was surprising for them to stay silent for so long, but she was sure everyone was just tired. Creators knew, it seemed like only yesterday that she, Hawke, and the others had traveled to Orlais for another adventure involving assassins, Qunari, and – according to Varric –a ham that tasted of despair.

Merrill had noticed that the pace of their adventures seemed to be increasing. Normally their harrowing, life-threatening exploits were more spread out. But at the very least, Varric would have plenty to write about.

Corff, the heavyset bartender, nodded to her in greeting as she brushed the dirt from her bare feet and entered the warm interior of the bar. She rarely drank here – or drank at all for that matter – but she was a familiar face due to her relationship with Hawke and Varric, both of whom were regulars.

It would be nice to catch up with the others after so long apart. Merrill was itching to hear more about the adventure in the mountains. Supposedly Hawke had discovered an ancient prison built by the Grey Wardens. What if there had been elven ruins there as well? The Keeper had always said the ancient elvhen empire had stretched far into the north. The wonders Hawke must have seen! And the knowledge that Hawke's father was an adventurer too! The taste for a wild and unpredictable life must have run in the Hawke family blood.

Merrill didn't know much about Hawke's father. He had died shortly before the Blight had driven Marian and her family from Ferelden, and the mage didn't speak about him often. Merrill understood enough to realize that Marian had obviously loved her father very much and missed him dearly. From what little information Varric had managed to pry from her, Malcolm Hawke had been fiercely intelligent, strong with magic, and just as quick-witted and sarcastic as Marian herself.

Merrill wished she had such memories of her own parents. She remembered so little of them, except the songs her mother would sing whenever her daughter was ill or sad. Merrill still found herself humming those songs from time to time while feeling an aching sense of loneliness swell in her chest.

She bumped into one of the bar's patrons and promptly snapped out of her reverie. Thankfully she hadn't spilled the man's drink, so she avoided being swatted upside the head like last time. Isabela wasn't here to beat the offending man senseless, so Merrill was thankful to get away with only a glare and a muttered curse of "bloody knife-ear," as punishment. She muttered an apology and scurried away, her eyes fixed on her feet.

Unsurprisingly, Varric was waiting for her at one of the tables at the back, his worn deck of cards next to him. He waved her over with a grin, patting the chair next to him. She quickly made her way through the crowded tavern, skirting around drunk humans and serving elves.

"Varric," she greeted her friend with a wide smile. "It's been too long!"

Varric's wide face broke into a grin. "That it has, Daisy. Bianca's missed you."

Merrill giggled. "I'm sure."

Corff quickly came by and dropped off her usual drink: spiced tea with cream. She wasn't sure where the Hanged Man found such delicate ingredients. She was sure Varric had something to do with it, but had never complained or questioned. She simply thanked the stout bartender and passed him a few coppers in payment.

Turning back to the table, she gestured to several new bumps and bruises scattered about Varric's person. He was seemingly in high spirits despite a black eye, a cut lip, and a nasty-looking gash down one cheek.

"It seems you had fun on your latest outing with Marian."

"We all did," Varric said, rubbing at a dark purple bruise on his jaw. "There were lots of rocks flying around. You can only dodge so many before…"

"Before ducking behind Hawke and hoping her magic stops the worst of it?"

Merrill recognized Fenris' low growl before the white-haired elf slid into a seat across from them. Like Varric, he was covered in bruises and fresh wounds, but was still standing. He leaned back in his chair and gestured for a drink, then settled his massive greatsword against the edge of the table.

"Fenris," Merrill said, her voice tighter than she intended it to be. "It's… good to see you again."

Fenris took his drink from the bartender and instantly brought it to his lips. It was a long few seconds before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and growled, "Save your false goodwill, Merrill. I don't care, and I don't think you do either."

She bit back a sharp retort. "All right."

She looked back to Varric, all too happy to leave Fenris to his drinking. "So tell me what happened on your trip! Every sordid detail."

Varric snorted. "If you want sordid you'll have to go to Isabela. Unfortunately for you, she wasn't present on said trip."

"Just the normal details, then."

"Normal details?" He shrugged. "We undid some spells, allied with half-crazed Grey Wardens, and murdered an ancient Tevinter magister. Oh, and we killed about a thousand angry darkspawn in the process. It was about as normal as any day with Hawke."

"Aww, that's not what I meant," Merrill pouted.

"There'll be plenty of time for storytelling after the game gets started, Daisy. You have my word."

"And everyone is okay?"

"Well, the aforementioned Tevinter magister has seen better days…"

"You know what I mean. Marian is all right?"

"More than all right," Fenris muttered into the depths of his cup.

Merrill glanced at him sharply, ready to shoot back an angry retort. But she quickly hesitated; that didn't sound like one of his usual barbed insults. Usually it was a jab about her blood magic or her history with the elves. The smug satisfaction in his voice set her on edge. It wasn't nice of her, but she didn't like it when Fenris was happy. It usually meant she had missed something important. And mean.

"What do you mean by that?"

The smirk on Fenris' face didn't fade. "You'll see for yourself soon enough."

Varric made a sharp cutting motion with one hand and the white-haired elf said nothing more, staring into the depths of his cup. Merrill turned to the dwarf with a concerned frown.

"Varric, is there something wrong?"

Varric shook his head – a little too quickly in Merrill's opinion – and said, "Nothing's wrong, per se. Hawke just made a… a new friend while we were up north."

"New friend?" Merrill echoed. "I hope it isn't like the last time Marian made a new friend. Tallis was nice, but she almost got us all killed."

"Well, the new girl hasn't tried to pull anything yet," Varric reluctantly said, "but there's still plenty of time, I guess."

That set off alarm bells all through Merrill's head. Hawke had a new female friend? That didn't sound good. It had been a while since Hawke and Isabela had exchanged any public display of affection, but she had always assumed the two were still… involved. Now that she thought more about it, she wondered if Hawke was looking for a partner again. Was that why Fenris was so smug?

Who was this new girl? More important, who was she to Hawke? Merrill's thoughts unwillingly strayed back to her own short-lived dalliance with Marian, almost a year ago now. It was hardly a relationship – barely more than a single kiss before Merrill had stupidly pushed Hawke away – but it still weighed heavily on Merrill's thoughts.

She sipped at her tea in silence for a few moments, listening to the droning chatter of the Hanged Man's patrons. But then, the door crashing open drew her attention, as well as the attention of several other patrons across the room.

Isabela came charging toward their table, grinning from ear to ear. She made straight for them, ignoring the inevitable catcalls and whistles that always seemed to follow her. As soon as she was close enough she threw herself into the chair next to Varric. She slapped her palms against the table with a raucous laugh and cried, "Guess who I just saw?!"

Varric rubbed his eyes. "I think I can guess. The new girl?"

"She's a darling! She might just be the most adorable, precious thing in this city – except for you, of course, Kitten."

Merrill's heart was falling further and further with every word the woman spoke. She clasped her teacup tightly between her hands and said nothing as Isabela continued her gushing.

"And blond! Our Hawke sure knows how to pick them, I can tell you that. Between myself and that girl of hers she left back in Lothering, I thought she was set on brunettes."

I'm a brunette, Merrill thought dejectedly. There was no question about it now; Hawke was involved with someone else. Someone new. The thought turned the usual butterflies in Merrill's stomach to an icy wave of unease.

"Doesn't that make you…" Merrill hesitated, biting her lip. "Angry? You were with Hawke for a long time, you know."

Isabela thanked Corff, who had just dropped off her usual brew. She waved the bartender away with a huff before fixing Merrill with a dazzling grin. "Hawke and I were together for a while, yes. But you should know by now, Kitten, that I don't let things get overly serious unless it's someone very special."

"Hawke's very special."

Isabela hesitated at those words, fixing Merrill with a knowing look. Her voice softened and a flash of what looked like regret passed through her eyes – only for the briefest of moments. "She is special, Kitten. Isn't she?"

Merrill fell silent with a very obvious blush. Fenris, however, raised an eyebrow at Isabela's words.

"And what's this? Is that façade of apathy slipping, Isabela? Just how special do you think Hawke is?"

Now it was 'Bela's turn to blush – but only very slightly – as she took a long swig from her mug. She downed half the tankard before fixing Fenris with a smirk and pointing at him. "You're just jealous because I've seen her naked."

The white-haired elf snorted. "You must have me confused with Anders."

Or me, Merrill made sure to keep that particular thought to herself. She had to admit, that kind of jealousy had crossed her mind before – more times than she was comfortable admitting.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "So… this new girl. What's she like?"

'Bela rolled her eyes and said, "Only the sweetest northern farmgirl I've ever seen. How Hawke managed to convince her to travel down to a slum like Kirkwall, I'll never know."

"So she's from the north? Is she… is she human? Or an elf?"

Fenris snorted again. "I think if Kirkwall's most notorious noblewoman brought an elf home to mommy, you would have definitely heard about it by now."

"You're an elf."

"And you don't see me shacking up with Hawke, do you? You're lucky the nobles in this city are content to simply lock the elves in the Alienage and forget about them. In parts of Tevinter, pogroms are far from uncommon."

Merrill frowned, cocking her head. "What's a pog… pog-rom?"

Varric quickly interjected. "Broody, why don't you finish off that drink and try to focus on happy thoughts?"

Fenris scowled and pulled his mug closer. "I'll need more than one drink to accomplish that."

"I'll keep them coming," Varric assured him. He then glanced at Merrill and jerked his head to the side. "In the meantime, Daisy, can I have a word with you?"

"Of course." Merrill nodded, all too eager to leave Fenris to his drinking and 'Bela to her fawning. She slid out of her chair and padded behind Varric as the dwarf led her some distance away, out of earshot of the others.

He eventually rounded on her with a sigh, scratching at his stubbly chin. "Look, Daisy, I'm sorry about that. I was going to tell you in a gentler way, but…"

"So it's all true, then?"

Varric nodded. "Afraid so. Hawke met up with this new girl while we were spending the night in a little farming hamlet a ways north of Kirkwall territory. Some dirt-poor town called Shitsville or something like that."

Merrill giggled despite herself. "I don't think that was the real name."

He waved one hand dismissively. "Point is, Hawke and this stablehand got to talking and they hit it off. The new girl traveled with us for a few days, until… well, she decided to come visit the City of Chains for herself. With Hawke. Together."

Merrill nodded. "I see. Thank you for telling me."

She moved to walk away, but Varric put a large hand on her shoulder and said, "Wait, that's it? You're just going to walk away and not say anything?"

"What's there to say?"

"You used to have something with Hawke, Daisy. Everyone could see it."

"That hasn't been true for a long time, Varric."

"Aw, come on," the dwarf scoffed. "Look who you're talking to. I know bullshit when I hear it."

"It's not bull—" Merrill caught herself, blushing only slightly. "I mean, it's the truth. I made my choices after that mess with Validation. And Hawke made hers."

Varric stared at her, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I can take one look at you and tell that's not true."

Merrill sighed and eased herself onto a nearby bench, resting her palms on her bony knees. "What does it matter, anyway? Hawke's obviously moved on, and you all seem to adore this new woman."

"Not as much as we adore you, Daisy."

Merrill glanced up at him. "What?"

Varric settled down next to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Hawke's got a new girl. That's true. But – and this is my professional opinion – I don't think it's going to last very long."

"Why not?"

Varric shrugged. "The new girl's a little nosy. Asked a lot of questions on the way back: where Hawke was from, what her father was like, if she has any siblings. And if there's one thing Hawke can't stand, its people prying into her past. I should know; I've tried to wheedle information out of her for years and I barely have enough to fill three pages of my book."

"Then… Varric, why are you telling me all this?"

"Because," he said with a weary sigh, "believe it or not, I was really rooting for you two back in the day. You shared something special. Something real. That doesn't disappear overnight, no matter how much you both might want it to. And I think there's still a chance for it to come back around."

He glanced over his shoulder, clearing his throat self-consciously, then leaned closer and murmured, "And just between you and me, I bet Aveline that you two would end up together. A hundred sovereigns, double or nothing. I intend to collect my winnings, and soon."

Merrill stifled a giggle behind her hand. "Varric!"

He shrugged. "Hey, an author's got to find some way to keep himself afloat between novels. That room upstairs doesn't pay for itself, you know."

He squeezed her shoulder. "Okay, serious question."

"All right."

"Do you still have feelings for Hawke?"

Merrill's smile faded, her brows knitting together in concentration. "I… I don't know."

"That's not an answer, Daisy. Either you know, or it's not there."

She bit her lip, thinking hard. She had to admit, despite trying to force herself to move on, she never forgot that kiss they had shared. She still dreamt of it sometimes, waking fitfully with the phantom touch of Hawke's lips still pressed against her own. She still found herself aching to get closer to the dapper, raven-haired mage, hanging on her every word, watching her every movement. She couldn't tear her attention away from the fluidity with which Hawke fought, the grace and poise when she walked, and the toned beauty of her almost-bare body that one time they had gone swimming—

"Yes," she said, taking a deep breath and clasping her hands in her lap. She was blushing hard now, red as a beet as she pointedly avoided Varric's gaze. "I… I guess I do still have feelings for her."

Varric nodded with a smile. "That's good to hear. Don't let that go. You hear me? This new girl won't last long, I think. And when it's time, you need to be ready to move in for the kill. Don't let it all fall apart like last time."

"But… but how do I do that?"

"Think hard about what it is you want," Varric said, his tone darkening slightly, "and when you have it in mind, don't let it go. Doesn't matter if there are darkspawn, dragons, or a blighted ogre in your way – don't let it go."

The dark note in the dwarf's voice, coupled with the sudden faraway look in his eyes, told her that he was speaking from experience. She pondered over his words for a few moments, both of them lost in thought.

I don't want to let Hawke go, she thought. Even all those months ago, after Validation… I didn't want to let her go.

Then why did she? Why did she push Hawke away when the mage had finally begun to come around to the idea of being together?

She bit her lip as she thought, I was hurt by what happened – first with Hawke in the Fade, then with Victory in our world. I thought… I thought I was making a mistake by falling for Marian.

But now, to no surprise, she understood that the real mistake had been turning her back on Hawke, just when happiness was in reach for the both of them. They had teetered on the threshold of something they both wanted – no, something they needed – but Merrill had foolishly slammed the door.

She wouldn't make that same mistake twice.

Varric finally shook his head and glanced at her, patting her shoulder reassuringly. "Just mull over what I've said, Daisy. It might come in handy someday soon."

She nodded. "I will, Varric. Thank you."

He winked at her as he rose to his feet. "There's a reason people call me Doctor Love."

"Varric, no one calls you that."

"Well… maybe they should."

Merrill giggled and stood from her seat. "We'll have to see about that."

She and Varric made their way back to their table, where Corff had kindly refilled both their drinks. They returned to their previous position and chatted for a while, waiting for the final member of their group to arrive. Merrill and Isabela chatted about the new hat shop that had opened in Lowtown, while Fenris and Varric compared tales of their various run-ins with Tevinter mages over the years.

Quite some time passed – long enough for Varric to grumble about whether Hawke was going to show at all – before the door opened again and the nearest patrons enthusiastically greeted the new visitor.

"Hawke!"

Merrill instantly spun in her seat to see the familiar raven-haired mage striding through the door with a wave. She set her staff – referred to as her walking stick when in public – against the wall by the door and motioned for someone still outside to follow her in.

Merrill had to admit, Hawke looked good for someone who had just returned from adventuring. Her armor was polished and clear of bloodstains, her hair was clean and pulled back in its usual loose ponytail, and her face was clear of any visible wounds – save for the usual jagged scar that stretched down the right side of her face.

And following her through the door came another visitor. An attractive young woman, around Hawke's age, with long blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. She was obviously nervous, hands clenched in front of her as her eyes darted around the room. But Hawke put a reassuring arm around her shoulders and led her toward Varric's table.

Isabela clapped her palms against the tabletop and hissed, "Ooh, here she comes! Best behavior everyone."

Fenris looked at the piratess like she had gone insane. "Since when are you ever on your best behavior?"

"Since about thirty seconds ago. Now shut up and be nice!"

Hawke finally drew near enough to the table. She grinned and waved in greeting. "Evening, everyone. I think almost all of you have met, but I'll do the introductions anyway."

She squeezed the blond woman's shoulder with a reassuring smile and said, "This is Kylee Valette. She agreed to stay here in Kirkwall for a few weeks. She's interested in seeing the city for the first time."

Kylee, Merrill found herself thinking. What an ugly name.

But she still forced a warm smile as Hawke made the introductions around the table. "Kylee, this is Varric, Fenris, Isabela, and Merrill. Exactly why we're friends I'll never know, but they're some of the best people in this city."

Varric settled his hands behind his head. "That's not much of a compliment, Hawke. The cockroaches in your uncle's bedsheets could be considered some of the best people in Kirkwall."

Kylee flashed them all a bright and quite beautiful smile. "It's so good to meet all of you. Hawke's told me so much about you all. You almost seem like family."

Yes, Merrill thought. And it's a family you're intruding on.

"Sit! Sit, make yourself comfortable," Isabela gushed, patting the seat next to her. Kylee thanked her and settled herself in, folding her hands and looking around excitedly. She started a little when she saw Merrill up close.

"Oh my!" she gasped. "A Wood Elf, here in the city? What brings you so far from your people?"

Merrill found herself fighting back a scowl. "It's a long story, I'm afraid. And we prefer the term Dalish."

"Ah. My apologies. I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with your kind. Your face tattoos are very pretty, though. And your little pointy ears are just adorable!"

Merrill slowly raised an eyebrow. "There… aren't many elves where you come from, are there?"

Kylee shook her head, brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear. "Not really. They don't usually like to come so far north. You're one of the first I've seen up-close."

"Merrill was the same way when she came to the city," Isabela said, nudging Merrill's arm. "Her eyes were so wide, she looked like an owl! And she jumped at every bearded bloke she saw!"

Merrill frowned and folded her arms. "Elves don't grow beards. I had…"

"Never seen one up close?"

The Dalish woman sniffed and said nothing. She busied herself staring down at her teacup while the others gushed over the new girl: asking her what life was like farther north, what she thought of Kirkwall – the usual rubbish.

But even if she didn't want to, Merrill's sharp elven senses were too quick to miss some things: the way Kylee's eyes kept darting around the bar as if she was looking for something. There was a nervous air about her that Merrill recognized all too well – a lifetime of jumpiness and bashfulness had taught her all the signs. And as the human woman shifted in her seat, Merrill saw the curved hilt of a dagger tucked into her waistband.

That made her pause; what was this newcomer – no mercenary or fighter – doing with a blade? Why would she need one if she was traveling with Hawke? Most days Merrill only left her house with her staff, and while magic could be more powerful than any blade, she knew that Hawke was more than willing – not to mention able – to defend her friends.

Isabela leaned close, her perfume washing over Merrill's senses. The piratess put a hand on her arm and murmured, "You're staring at her, Kitten. I think she's pretty too, but if she sees you she may take offense."

Merrill bit her lip. "Can I… can I talk to you, Isabela? In private?"

The woman frowned at her, but nodded and pushed away from her chair. She gestured to Varric and said, "We'll be right back. Merrill wants a word."

"Something wrong?"

Isabela quickly shook her head. "Lady problems. Nothing to worry about."

She put an arm around Merrill's shoulders and drew her away, to a more secluded corner of the bar. As they settled into a corner table, Isabela settled her arms onto the tabletop. "So, Kitten, what's going on?"

Merrill nodded toward the table they had just left, specifically to Kylee. "I don't trust this new woman. And I don't think Hawke should either."

"Oh?" Isabela arched a single perfect eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Just look at her! She's all… jumpy and, and she has a blade on her belt…"

"I'm not surprised. Kirkwall's a dangerous town, and we're all still relative strangers to her."

"But why would a farmer need a blade?"

"Carving up a side of ham, perhaps?"

"No… Isabela, she's hiding something!"

'Bela glanced at the other table. A smirk then curved her lips and she smiled knowingly at Merrill. "I understand what's going on here. You're jealous!"

Merrill blinked. "T-that's not true!"

"I don't believe that for a moment. Don't think I forgot the little fling you two had."

"I only kissed her once! That's hardly a fling."

Isabela just stared at her, until Merrill sighed explosively. "All right, fine. Maybe… maybe I'm a little jealous. But I still don't trust her!"

"Oh, Kitten, Kitten, Kitten…" Isabela chuckled and squeezed her hand. "I know how you feel. Really I do."

Merrill could believe that; it wasn't too long ago that Hawke and 'Bela had been romantically entangled themselves. The two had broken off their brief affair after a month or so, but Merrill could still tell that the self-proclaimed Pirate Queen missed the relationship – at least as much as Isabela could miss a relationship.

'Bela sighed and patted her hand. "I think you and Hawke would be darling together, I really do. But Hawke isn't going to wait for you forever. Kylee only proves that."

"I know…"

"If there's one thing I've learned over the years," she continued, "it's that you need to seize opportunity while you have the chance. How else do you think I managed to sack an entire shipping port in Rivain without firing a single cannon shot?"

"This isn't quite the same."

"Sure it is!" Isabela reassured her. "Hawke is a target. She's only going to have certain windows open for you to make a move. You need to make that move before that opportunity passes."

"I don't think I want to see Hawke as a target."

"You'd prefer I referred to her as a great haul of booty?"

Merrill rolled her eyes, but was unable to hold back the laugh that swelled in her chest. "No thank you."

Isabela smiled and slid from her chair. "If you really want a shot with Hawke, you need to make a move. I, for one, don't want to see you sidelined for the rest of your life. Unrequited love is so boring."

"But… but what about Kylee?"

"If she is truly as untrustworthy as you think, then Hawke will catch on to it soon enough. And when that moment comes, don't be afraid to seize the opportunity."

Merrill clenched her hands into fists as she and 'Bela moved back to the main table. Seize the opportunity, she kept thinking. Right. I can do that. Seize the opportunity.

So when Kylee smiled at her again, Merrill just smiled back.

If you're lying about something, she thought as she turned her attention to the card game, I'll bring it to light. I can promise that.

The Hanged Man was no stranger to odd visitors. Over the decades it had welcomed pirates, sellswords, Grey Wardens, and even the occasional foreign dignitary committing some scandal. It was a haven for less-than-savory figures known across Kirkwall's criminal underworld, from smugglers to mercenaries and murderers.

So when a tall man in a hooded cloak slipped close to the wall and loitered there, there were few who cast him a second look. Most passed him by, eager to press into the warmth and light of the tavern and the evening crowd within.

The man waited for some time, showing little interest in actually entering. After a time, he lit a short pipe and puffed on it, his sharp eyes watching the smoke lazily waft up into the air.

No one could have known he was loitering for a reason, and that his placement beneath one of the tavern windows was very tactically chosen. He was listening to the steady flow of conversation filtering in through the window.

She was here, there was no doubt. He'd been trailing her for the past few days, but had lost track of her when she had joined with a larger group. He'd been forced to fall back and track her by more traditional methods, forced to rely on more than his eyes.

Now he was close again, and ready to confront her. She needed to answer for what she had done.

The confrontation would not be tonight, but now that he knew where she was – not to mention the companions she was traveling with – she would be much easier to corner. Only then would his many questions be answered.

He remained by the wall, listening as they spoke inside. Something about a card game and how someone named Isabela had a habit of hiding cards down her knickers where no one would think to look.

His eyes snapped up when he noticed another figure loitering in his area. Like him, the newcomer was shrouded in a hood and cloak. But the new figure was slim and athletically-built – a woman, unless he was very much mistaken. She was almost a whole head shorter than he was and he caught a glimpse of ridged green armor beneath her flowing brown cloak. Strapped across her back were two sharp and angular daggers, definitely not of human make. He frowned as he observed her; even among the inhabitants of Kirkwall, she seemed strangely out of place.

Then her gaze snapped up to his, as if she somehow sensed his gaze. He quickly looked away, emptying his pipe and stepping away from the wall. He didn't make it far before a portly man staggered in front of him, putting a hand on his chest to support himself.

"Easy, easy, 'ere, mate," the man slurred. "Stop… stop wobblin' so much… stop everythin' from wobblin' so much…"

"Easy friend," the hooded man murmured. "Let me pass."

"Naw, naw…" the drunk man staggered slightly, wiping drool from his slack lips. "Don' mean no harm… jus' tryin' to make me way home…"

"Safe travels."

He gently pushed the drunk man aside, and turned to look back to ensure the woman wasn't still watching. The last thing he needed was another suspicious party following his trail.

She was gone.

He narrowed his eyes, then quickly hurried away. If his identity had been uncovered, he needed to leave quickly. He tucked himself down a dark side-alley before she could follow.

Who was she? Some competition, perhaps? Some third party who was also searching for his own quarry? It was a worrisome thought, and one that proved he needed to be more cautious. He had come too far to be stopped now.

As he turned down another corner, he had no way of knowing that the woman was still watching him. She rested herself on one knee on the edge of a rooftop high above him. Her cloak was tugged by the cold sea breeze blown up from the docks. Her eyes flashed in the dark as she watched him flee.

"Hello, there," she murmured, cocking her head. "And just what are you doing, snooping around?"

Then she pulled her cloak around her and hurried away across the rooftops.

Author's Note: It feels good to be writing Dragon Age again. I've had a lot of fun writing DA fics in the past, and I get the feeling this story will be just as fun.

Drop me a review and let me know what you think! I would very much appreciate any feedback.