A/N: There are three years in between Act 1 and Act 2. I like to think that Hawke and their siblings communicated more than just with one letter, which add to that seems to be left unanswered. How rude our Hawkes are!

Family Letters

Carver,

so, it's official now - I'm freshly Harrowed mage of the Kirkwall Circle. The First Enchanter says that once they decide what exactly I can do, they will assign me an apprentice to teach. It's quite surprising how easy I can breathe here, knowing that one misplaced spell won't endanger my family and the freedom of studying without needing to look over my shoulder all the damn time is refreshing. The templars are mostly polite, although some of them are so strict it makes me think that should they smile, their faces would break. Of course, some of the scary stories we used to hear in Ferelden about Circle are true - not everyone passes their Harrowing, and some of the templars hold what could be viewed as dangerously extreme views. I try to steer clear of those.

Anyway, how's the situation with you and mother? How are you looking forward the possibility-coming-closer-by-each-day of being a noble? Did Varric manage to find some rich buyers for the relics you brought from the Deep Roads? How went mother's meeting with the Viscount? How is Bark? I hope he's not chewing the furniture again - you know how he gets when bored!

Please, write me soon - I miss you all so much, even Gamlen and his never-ending grumbling.

Love,

Thea

Carver gazed at the letter in his hand. Thea's writing had been surprisingly heavy this time - he hoped it was because she was tired or something, and not hurt. Part of him hoped that Thea's life-long practice of steering clear from dangerous templars is giving her the much-needed edge of keeping out of trouble - but if he knew his sister, trouble would still find her sooner or later no matter what. He probably should visit her, he though - mother talked about visiting her in Gallows once the matters are settled all the time, her voice getting that wistful tone that it made Carver's stomach twitch painfully.

Sis, he wrote and stopped. What should he write her? That he despises the possibility of being a noble? That he can't see himself as "scion of the noble Amell family", no matter how mother wishes he felt like one? He didn't know how to be what mother wanted him to. The thoughts of the necessity of spending time with so many of those bubbleheaded nobles made him sneer - of what topics do you want to talk with people who never had to work their butts off to put food on their plates and their biggest worry was if they look fat in this pants (which he wouldn't - all the excercise he got with the greatsword would make everyone lean and fit). Was is always so difficult to find the right words to say to his sister?

Sighing, he continued the letter.

Sis,

so you're a freshly harrowed mage? Then I think congratulations are in order - congratulations! I'm proud of you, really, and I'm sure that mother and Gamlen will be proud, too, when I'll read them your letter. They are out right now - Gamlen is no doubt spending the little coin mother saved while I was in the Deep roads by gambling it away, and mother is probably in Hightown, already thinking up how to make the estate look graaaaaaand. Because the building can't be grand without flowers, carvings and Maker knows what else. Glad to read you are setting in - we were worried about how the place will accept you. The name sure doesn't add to its reputation!

To answer your question - we are fine. Mother is already seeing herself back in that estate of hers, and I think she will spend many happy hour per day by picking the perfect materials for curtains, dust-covers and do not forget proper carpets! No proper noble can have a proper noble estate without those. I just drew the line at pink. Just thinking about pink carpets, pink dust-covers, pink curtains, pink anything gives me goosebumps even more than your freeze spell. Eww. Gamlen, however, seems to be torn between being happy to finally see us off for good and be sad about being here alone once again. I think he will miss Bark the most - nothing keeps debts collectors away better than one hundred pounds of pure-blood mabari. At the same time, I think he kind of looks forward the stipend mother intends to pay him - a bit too high in my opinion. I think she hopes to soothe her conscience with that. After all, she did come back expecting everything handed back to her.

Anyway, our merry band of misfits misses you. Our manifesto writing god openly accused me of very convenient timing for the templars to catch you. Isabela and Varric miss you at our weekly games of wicked grace. Merrill is getting lost so often it makes me wonder how she actually manages to find her own home. Fenris is his usual broody self, busily redecorating the mansion. Aveline says she misses all the shenanigans you would drag her to, and she thinks that without you the guard won't have enough practice. And then there's me - I still think being a noble is nothing for me. But that's what you are here for - to listen to my complains about mother trying to marry me off to the most convenient bubble headed noble girl with pedigree as long as my greatsword and completely empty head.

Write again soon, sis, and don't do anything I wouldn't do.

Carver

There. It wasn't so difficult, now that he looked at the results of his writing. Just enough personal touch, adding details about the current happenings, some younger brother sass and teasing. Now when he was nearing the place in spotlight, he almost missed being in his sister's shadow. Almost.

~~~o~~~

It took several weeks for another letter to arrive. They had already settled the matters of re-instating their status as Amells bought the estate and had been now furnishing it, Carver arguing with his mother most of the time about the furnishing of his private room and and space which wasn't supposed to be public.

Obviously, mother wanted to turn some parts of the estate into mausoleum of her old life, and Carver felt even more displaced than before because of that.

Carver,

did you know that the mages who had been in the Circle for less than a year have limits on how much correspondence per month they can send and receive? Well, now you do, as do I. Anyway, I hear things had been moving. In big style. You wouldn't believe what a gossip Sol is - I now know even more of the gossips running through Kirkwall than I did when I was still in Lowtown.

Anyway, let me tell you that letting Varric to talk his way out of those shenanigans in the cave was not very good idea. Ser Knight remembers me, and he is not very pleased. Thankfully, he somehow never makes it closer to me - he always is sent away on some errand or there is someone else present. Maker himself must be helping me in this, otherwise I do not think the confrontantion could end well. Do you remember that dark-skinned guy? He was not so lucky - it's unnerving how much control some people have in here. But don't you worry - we are on good way to make it stop.

How are things going at the new estate? You ready to pull your hair out because of the decorating of the house? How many parties did you attend so far? Have you met anyone interesting? There is not much to do here in the Circle, apart from showing the younger apprentices to do things, or to help the templars train the mana drain which is much less fun than one would think. The only interesting thing happening lately had been one of the new aprentices biting Ser Leonas in hand when he tried to hold him down, so the First Enchanter could take a bit of his blood into the phylactery. Some men can scream in the most unmanly ways!

Now, do not keep me waiting, little brother, and don't worry, I won't get into any kind of trouble without you present. You wouldn't want to miss the fun, would you?

Thea

Carver scowled darkly as he read about ser knight. That was definitely Ser Karras. The man meant trouble, he knew that the moment he laid his eyes on him. Thea and Varric had been able to talk their way from direct confrontation that day but from what Thea wrote (and what she didn't write, obviously, those letters were being read by someone else, too), it was only a matter of time until her luck runs out. The dark skinned guy had to be that mage, Alain or Alec, who surrended to them. Probably the only one from the whole bunch who didn't become a blood mage. With a shudder he remembered meeting him in Gallows courtyards - Thea spoke to him for a moment, and Carver remembered hearing him mentioning that Gallows are nothing like Starkhaven Circle.

Looking around he decided to take the letter to his study, one of the few places in the house where it was him who decided how it will be furnished. It was small room, with several bookshelves, some weapons on the walls (if there was one thing living in Lowtown taught him, it was that you never knew when you are going to need a weapon placed conveniently), big and heavy desk (one of the things he liked about being wealthy and noble - you got access to the best and sturdiest furniture), several chairs, small cabinet. Mother protested about his idea how his study should look like but he was unmovable in the matter. His study, his furniture. Period.

Sitting down he pulled parchment from one of the drawers, uncorked bottle of ink and started writing.

Thea,

you sure should let us know all the limits of contact with you. You know how I hate travelling by boats - imagine the terrible moment when I travel all the way from the docks to Gallows only to be turned back immediately because you are not allowed visitors yet! But maybe throwing a tantrum right there would get us access - but the blow my manly ego would suffer would probably be fatal.

And how do you know so well how the decorating is going? You hit the nail directly on the head - mother wants to have everything in the old Amell style, and sometimes it's quite difficult to make her understand that new Hawke style should also get a chance in this house, especially in the rooms which are mine. Yes. Mine, mine, mine! I know I sound like a little child but since it was our work, which gave us enough money to make this possible, I reserve the right to at least partly decide how things are going to be and veto things I absolutely hate (which reminds me I already had to veto pink curtains. Yuck).

Speaking of work - you won't believe who appeared few weeks ago. Bodahn and his son Sandal. They were both pretty shaken after the Deep Roads spectacle (I would call it debacle, but since it made us rich, it couldn't be so bad). And guess what - it looks like we have our very first manservant. Bodahn does great work, and Sandal, with all his "enchantment!" can work really hard, too. I just hope he won't get the house on fire with his enchantments. Oh, which reminds me I haven't told you about that yet. When we were in the Deep Roads, we had to look for a way around a collapse in the caves, and obviously, Sandal thought it great place for a small walk. Bodahn was beside himself with worry, and begged us to look for him in the caves. We found him surrounded by group of very dead Darkspawn, scratching his head and telling us he did it with "enchantment". What really would interest me, though, is how he managed to freeze an ogre in mid-charge. All he had to say about that was "not enchantment".

Otherwise, nothing much had been happening lately. Mother insists that once the nobles get used to having old-new nobility around, they will invite us for parties and such. Is it bad from me to hope it will never happen?

Hope to hear from you soon, sis, and and don't forget to send us the limits!

Carver

P.S. And about the unmanly shrieking - do you remember our manifesto writing god when Bark jumped him for the first time? Simply. Glorious.

Hm. The letter was quite longer than the one before. How comes that talking to Thea was easier when it was not actually speaking?

~~~o~~~

Carver was annoyed. Well, lately he had been annoyed nearly nonstop. Yes, he was rich. Yes, his family had been nobility. Yes, he had to accept at least some of the invitations - but bloody Maker, did he really have to accept all of them? Mother thought it beneficial to their stand - he himself thought that she just wanted to show them off as much as possible. At least he wasn't the only one who obviously hated the parties - there was also the Viscount son, Saemus, who seemed to dislike being around the nobles as well. And lady Elegant, of course.

It was pretty funny to make dry remarks about this party with them.

He snorted when he thought about the evening. Mother had been disappointed that none of the single young ladies captured his eye - but all of them had been so covered in makeup that he wasn't sure how they actually looked like. Elegant and Saemus were the best guides in this - they kept on supplying him the names of the nobles who came around to talk to him and he couldn't remember their names. Also pointedly warned him about talking to de Launcet girls.

He still shuddered when he thought of one of them - was it Fifi or Babette? - plastering herself over him before he made his hasty escape.

His dark mood lifted a bit when Bodahn brough him letter from Thea that evening, when he was sitting in his study, feet propped on the desk and drinking his ocassional glass of brandy.

Brother dear,

just imagine, today I got my first apprentice to teach. I feel so important now, although I'm a bit worried I'll scare the poor kid who got me as his mentor. Anyway, I asked about the limitations set for mages who had been here for less than one year. We are allowed to send one letter and also receive one letter every six weeks. Visits are not allowed at all, until the magical (pun unintended) line of one year passes. Then we are allowed to have visitors every week in for two hours during days we are assigned after one year here. From what others told me, it's a bit like chaperoned date - chaperone being one of the templars.

Speaking of dates - just today I heard the worst possible pick up line ever. Have you met de Launcets yet? One of their children, Emile, is here in the Circle. And imagine - I'm in library, minding my own business when I hear quiet whistle behind me and 'smooth' voice asking me 'Are you a mage? Because you just magicked my breath away!' Believe me, that was painful. And not the last one of these lines, too. Barlin's son, Michael (remember him? I think you had to beat him for spreading nasty rumours about me once) had terrible pick up lines, but Emile has worse, much, much, much worse.

Pink curtains you say? Sounds cute - if you are trying to decorate a child's room. I'm sure your manliness suffers just when you think of that. Is there anything more emasculating than pink curtains in man room? It's quite a pity I can't see what you have done with the place so far - please, make sure you have comfy chairs. From what I hear nobles insist on having uncomfortable furniture all around their estates because uncomfortable furniture is all the rage in Orlais - be an exception, and have uncomfortable furniture only in the room where you take unwelcomed visitors!

Sandal managed to freeze a charging ogre? With "not enchantement"? Brother, I shouldn't have listened to you, I should go to the Deep Roads, too, for that is something I would love to see. Has Varric managed to track Bartrand yet? I certainly could recommend some extra painful ways how to kill him - the history books speak about some really spectacular ways how to kill someone.

Anyway, I want to know more about the social life of nobility. What do the ladies wear? What exactly happens at the parties? Is there dancing? Good food? Good spirits? Interesting company? We made several aquitances during our year service with Red Irons - have you met some of them again?

Hope to hear from you, brother, and share all the news you can!

Thea

P.S. Please, pull Bark's ear for that one for me, and then give him the biggest bone you can find. That was one moment of awesome.

Maker, the line with magicked breath sure was painful. Carver had to laugh when he imagined himself telling that to Merrill. She already missed majority of the flirting he attempted - this would be just another nail in the coffin for his manly ego. No man likes to be misunderstood in his intentions all the damn time, right? Thea teased him about that - but together with Isabela they steered the elven mage the right way several times, causing them both blush profoundly.

It was embarrassing to have your older sister playing matchmaker, after all.

"Carver?" Mother's voice interrupted his musings. "Bodahn told me Thea send another letter. Is she alright?"

"Yes, mother," he said, looking up from the parchment. "She has limits on how much contact she can have now - would you like to write her a letter this time?"

"It's nice of you to ask me that at last," said mother, her voice getting the hurt undertone which made him grit his teeth every time he heard it. He understood that his mother was worried about Thea - they both were. But it was her fault as well that she was caught - if both of them left for the Deep Roads, they would return with enough treasure to ensure she would be nearly untouchable by the templars.

It hit him that without Thea's tempering presence he clashed with his mother much more often than before. Sometimes, he would like nothing else than have at least one fifth of his older sister's diplomacy.

Next day, mother gave him a letter for Thea, telling him to add something to that, since Thea was allowed only one letter for those weeks, so they can at least make it long. Moment of guilt gripped his insides - he kept the previous letters only to himself, only relaying parts of them to mother. This way was probably better for all of them. He just hoped the templars will take it as one letter, and not two letters.

~~~o~~~

The first year of Thea's stay in the Gallows was closer by each day, and Carver felt his excitement growing by each day. All the afternoon teas, and gallas and other wastes of time the nobles liked to do so much became even more annoying to him. He wanted to see his sister, to make sure she was okay. Her writing got heavy time to time and he felt a strange foreboding telling him something was wrong.

Still, when he was finally allowed to see her, it's in the inner courtyards of Gallows, templars posted everywhere in sight, and with her running to them with open arms, crashing into him and holding up as if he and mother should disappear, if she didn't hold tight enough. She looked good (well, depending on the circumstances), and seemed unharmed, even if her smile sometimes got a bit forced to his eyes.

Cullen himself came to bring her back to mages' quarters, and while Thea is saying her farewells to mother, the templar turned to him and quietly said: "If it wouldn't be a bother, serrah Hawke, I would like to speak with you later. This evening, at your estate?"

Confused, Carver nodded and hugged his sister before they made their way back to the docks.

Later that day, Cullen came to new Hawke (or old Amell - Carver himself preffered to call it by its new name) estate to speak about Thea. "She is making good progress - but some of the lower-ranked templars are after her. I already had to punish several of them for behaviour not befitting a templar," he said without preamble. "Most of them seem to be encouraged by Ser Karras - but unless me or Knight-Commander catch them in the planning, or in the middle of something they definitely shouldn't be doing, our hands are tied."

"Thank you," Carver said, holding his hand to the templar, who took it and shook it firmly. When the templar knight left, Carver nearly fell into his chair; the one he was so fond of telling about to Thea. Pouring himself more than just a shot of brandy he sipped on the liquid.

Thank the Maker for all those stupid childhood fights all three of them would get into all the time when they were younger. At least now will Thea be able to land some nasty hits and cause enough noise, should it come to worst. At least he sincerely hoped so.

~~~o~~~

Years slowly passed. He and mother were still trying (well, mother was) to fight themselves a place to fit in the high society. Thea was still in the Circle, tutoring apprentices, with Cullen and several other templars discreetly watching over her.

The mages they once set free, earning themselves spite from ser Karras, were once again caught and brought to the Circle, none of them happy about the developement.

Now the biggest problem of the whole city were the Qunari who crashlanded here several years ago; raising emotions in nearly everyone. And one day, the Viscount sent a messenger to Carver Hawke,, with a request of him coing to the Keep at the earliest convenience.

And that was when Carver knew the time of peace had long since passed.