Maker, he is BIG!

The Arishok stood a towering seven feet tall, with his horns already intimidating enough, making him seem bigger. Elizabeth Hawke had met the Qunari war leader several times before, had meetings and scratched on the surface of friendship, if not camaraderie. She would never admit out loud how terrified she was the first time she met him, keeping a cool and confident exterior while her insides were doing backflips and somersaults. He, however, remained calm, and when she was able to get him to utter more than a few syllables at a time she realized he was very intelligent.

She started coming around more to have philosophical debates, because let's face it, no matter how hard she tried, he or she (usually both) would lose their temper with the other and then an argument would ensue. She was usually the one arguing; he'd snap out some Qunlat then dismiss her like she was a bug on his shoulder. She'd yell more, louder, throwing some nasty names around, and storm off – only to return a few days later as if nothing happened, and it would start all over again.

Her friends did not approve, and that was putting it mildly. It started with little comments about where she went off to, then why she was there with those Qunari, or 'heathens', as Sebastian would say. She would always brush it off or give vague responses.

It didn't fool them. They ambushed her one night after a mission to the Bone Pit to clear it out and send the laborers back to work, promising that they would get raises and be protected.

"Hawke, you know we care about you. We don't want to see you get hurt," Varric stated, in one of his rare serious moments. It was always hard to get mad at Varric, so when it happened it was usually for a very good reason. This felt like one of those times – they had ambushed her! Each companion took their turn telling platitudes then damning her intelligence for befriending 'monsters'.

"Sister, when Carver died there was a hole, like something was missing in our lives. Same when Father passed. We lost Mother, too, not physically, but she is not the same mother we grew up with and knew. She is almost cold and distant, like she knows she is to lose more, and it scares me. I fear the Templars every second of every day. The only times I do not fear so much is when I'm with you." Reaching out her hand to hold Hawke's across the table from her, Bethany continued. "Lately you are always gone, all hours of the day and night –"

"How is that my fault? I am doing any and all jobs I can find for coin for this blasted Deep Roads expedition! My jobs require me at all times of the day or night, and I don't bring you along because as of late there are a few Templar-Mage jobs. I can't and won't put you at risk! Anders is a better healer, anyway, and as a Grey Warden they can't take him as easily as they can you."

"I know, I know, Sister, but there are times when you leave and aren't doing jobs. You are going down to the docks and being among them. It's not right. What would Carver say? What would Father say?"

Bethany knew Hawke was angry almost from the beginning, and she had found a sound argument against everything they had said. So Bethany brought out the big guns: Hawke had cared deeply for the men in their family and cared about everything they said or thought. Now, sitting here, seeing her bow her head in shame, Bethany finally breathed a sigh of relief. That had done it; they had finally gotten through to her.

Bethany looked at the others around the table, seeing all different expressions of relief and joy on a few faces, but one, Isabela, didn't look relieved. She was staring at Hawke with slight fear in her eyes. There was a scraping sound of a chair moving on the wood floor. Bethany turned back to her sister, who was standing with her hands balled into fists and a hard look in her eyes. She glared daggers all around the room at every one of her companions, finally resting them on Bethany, who flinched from her.

"I will say this once, so listen closely. I do not appreciate your misguided attempts to control my decisions, nor my life. I run a family and provide for them, and get extra coin for each of you. I have never asked or begged for any of your help, nor advice in my affairs. You all have offered to help or tag along. I have helped all of you in one way or another. I have never told you how you should run your lives and I have only given when asked! So how dare any of you think you can do what I have not? I have not asked for your permission or opinions on my personal life. If you don't like it, tough. There's the door. I already have a mother I do not need anymore. Dear Sister, as to your question, I don't give a nug's uncle what Carver would say because he would do nothing but complain all the time, anyway."

Bending down, with her hands resting on the table and her face inches away from Bethany's, looking straight in her eyes, she finished, "As for Father, Bethany, he is dead. But even so, he was a friend to all: Templars - as we learned after whom Carver was named - Mage, noble, beggar, elf, dwarf, Orlesian, Antivan, Qunari, and even unknowns. Father was not a close-minded bigot like you. He knew we are all different, but we all think, and we all feel. To sit there and think you are better than anyone else because of the color of your skin makes me sick, and I don't think I have time for people like you."

With that, Hawke stood up to her full height of five foot seven and turned on her heels. Walking out, she called over her shoulder to the others, "The same goes for the rest of you." Finishing, she slammed the door shut behind her.

Elizabeth heard Bethany crying behind her, and the gasps of surprise and sighs of resignation from the others as she left the room. She didn't care. She hated surprises and being bombarded like that by people she thought were her friends. The funny thing was, though, not one of them said they loved her, not even her sister, whom she had fought tooth and nail to protect since she was born.

Not realizing where she had walked, she turned around and noticed she'd come all the way to the docks, seeing the tall gate and two Qunari standing post. Taking a deep breath, she walked up the steps to the gate. Looking at both guards, she was pretty sure she didn't know them.

"I request to see the Arishok," she said to neither in particular. A grunt answered her as one disappeared into the compound, closing the gate behind him. Waiting was uncomfortable, what with the silent, intimidating Qunari glaring at her.

The gate opened again to show the Qunari who had left them. He opened the gate wider. "Enter, Bas," he grunted.

Hawke walked in, following the giant into the compound that she was now becoming familiar with, up the steps, past the throne on which the Arishok normally sat. She was ushered to a tent not far behind. When she entered, it was a tall, circular, canvas tent, not too large. Something one would find on the battlefield. In the center of the tent was the post that held it up, and strung to it was an elf in rags, kneeling on the floor. The Arishok sat at a desk just beyond, deep in paperwork, scrolls and parchments that were littered across the desk. Books were stacked high on it, as well as on the floor. The Qunari grunted, fisting his hand over his heart, and bowed slightly before turning to leave.

It was quiet for a while. Hawke looked around, wondering if she should sit or stand.

"Sit," came the guttural command.

Hawke turned around in a complete circle looking for somewhere to sit, but the only chair, it seemed, was the one the Arishok was in. Scratching the back of her head quizzically, she sighed, and looked up to see the Arishok watching her with a half-annoyed, half-almost-entertained look on his face. She giggled slightly. "I would if I could, but …" She threw her hands in the air then dropped them on her hips, looking at the giant again with a smirk on her face.

The Arishok looked down at a pile of pillows, grunting. She took that to mean, 'sit here'. Smiling, she stepped over to the pile and sat down. She sighed, she sat up straight and looked up to see his nose back in the book he'd been reading when she first came in.

Growling to herself at his lack of attention, she asked, "Arishok, how does it fair?"

An answering grunt was all she got. She watched as he didn't even look up.

"Rish ka ta?" she asked. No answer. Gritting her teeth, she continued. "Heard of any good jokes lately?" Still no answer.

Fine, let's see if you're listening at all, you big oaf, she thought as she turned her head, catching the eye of the elf. He was watching her intently.

"A priest walks into a bar. When asked why he is there, he replies, 'I'm here to serve the Maker.' All day and night he sits in the bar, and is asked the same question: 'Why are you here?' 'To serve the Maker.' Finally, this whore comes out of the back room. She sees the priest, she goes over to him, and instead of asking what everyone else has, she sits down in his lap. She leans in and starts making out with the priest. Everyone in the bar pauses to watch in astonishment. Breaking away from the priest's lips, the whore leans in to his ear and whispers, 'Maker says upstairs, now.' With that, the priest scoops up the whore and runs upstairs, saying, 'I live to serve the Maker!'"

Laughing so hard tears ran down her face, [Elizabeth] Hawke gave the elf a mischievous look before turning to check if the Arishok had been listening. The elf was shocked at first, but then giggles escaped from his mouth before he could stop them. Knowing what he had done, the elf covered his mouth, looking to the Arishok, scared. Hawke turned to the Arishok and saw he was still in his book. Sighing, she collapsed down, lying across the pillows.

Moments later a Qunari came into the tent; with a grunt and nod from the Arishok, the soldier unstrapped the elf and dragged him out. Silence ensued. Finally, after what seemed like hours, there was the sound of a chair moving and heavy feet coming closer to Hawke. Not moving her body, just her head and eyes, she looked up to see the Arishok standing over her.

Silent.

"Why was he chained up in here?" Hawke asked, in part to break the silence, but also out of curiosity.

"He was being punished."

"For what?"

"It does not concern you, Bas. I will know why you are here."

Taking a breath, she sat up and turned around to face him, crossing her legs. "I'll be leaving the city soon, and I wanted to see you before I left."

"Why?"

"Why am I leaving, or why did I want to see you?"

"Both."

Groaning, she threw her arms up and dropped them on the pillows around her. "I'm leaving because I have work outside the city and I'll be gone for some time. I'm not entirely sure how long yet. I might not come back at all. As for the other, well, I think the last two answers count for that as well." Watching him, he made no move, no sound; he just stood there and watched her. "I know you and your people haven't been welcomed and that there are radicals. I –"

She sighed, feeling ridiculous. Pouring her heart out to a statue. For all he was doing right now, that was what he was.

"Never mind," Hawke said as she got up.

"I have done nothing, yet radicals line up to hate us. It has been so since we came ashore here and it will be 'til we leave. The only change is which form they choose to hide behind. You, Bas, you have fought with and for us. You are Basalit-an, 'one worthy of respect'. But you are not one of us. I and all under my command here are of the Qun, and the Qun will protect its own. I do not wish you dead, Hawke."

With that clean dismissal, Hawke balled up her fists and walked out before she said anything more. While, yes, he had complimented her, he was also clear that she was expecting too much and was out of her place.

"Bloody Qunari bitch," she growled as she ran up the steps leading from the docks to Lowtown and her uncle's place. After tonight's payoff she had enough for the Deep Roads expedition. She would tell Bartrand first thing in the morning. Hopefully by week's end they would be deep underground. First thing, though, she needed rest.

The sun was high in the sky when Hawke finally awoke. So much for first thing in the morning! It must have been about lunchtime. Hawke climbed out of bed, getting cleaned up, dressing in her lighter armor for the day. She walked out of the room she shared with her sister and mother.

No one was in the house. She saw a note quickly scribbled on her desk:

Elizabeth,

Mother and I went to the store – Uncle ate all the food in the house again, and drank all the wine last night. We will be back shortly.

Grateful she wouldn't get detained, Hawke left the house, heading to Hightown.

"Why'd you go promising something like that?" Bartrand grumbled to his brother Varric.

"Because, Brother, you've been pulling your hair out trying to figure out how to fund this thing, and if wait any longer, there won't be treasures to fight over," Varric sweetly stated.

"Well, human, you got the coin?"

"Yes, I do." Yanking the coin purse from her hip, Hawke threw it to the sour dwarf and smirked at his surprise.

"What did I tell you, Brother?"

"Fantastic. We just gotta find a good entrance into the Deep Roads."

"We have a bad one?" Hawke couldn't help but be sarcastic. She was in one of those moods.

"We have a Grey Warden's map with several entrances," Varric chimed in. Pulling said map out of her back pocket, Hawke handed it over to Bartrand. He looked at it intently for a moment, then looked back at them.

"We leave in two days. If you have any business left in the city, I suggest you handle it now. We'll be gone for some time. Let me know if you're taking anyone else." With that, he walked away with the map, grumbling to himself.

"I guess this is it."

"Yup. Guess you wanna say goodbye to –"

"Nope, I'm set to go."

Varric studied her for a moment. She had a sad look on her face. She then turned on her heels and walked away, leaving him by himself to contemplate.