NOTE: All characters and settings belong to Bioware.

"Oh, this is nothing like a trap. Walking down a dark, empty alley to meet someone who just wants to give us something. I'll bet there will even be dinner at the end," Varric said, cheerfully enough as he followed behind Hawke.

"I hope there are biscuits," Hawke answered cheerfully, "we haven't had biscuits in weeks."

"Oh! If you can find some flour, I can make the fluffiest bicuits. I tried to make some the other day, but all the flour in the alienage has those horrid little bugs in it," Merrill beamed at Hawke as she made the offer, still trying desperately hard to befriend the strange companions she'd found herself with.

Hawke didn't even shush the cheery bloodmage; she just continued down the darkened street, not bothering to be quiet. If this was an ambush, they would be walking right into it.

Yet it didn't seem to be a trap. The dwarf who had contacted her was standing calmly on the street, and he answered their questions easily enough. Still, something felt wrong, and she looked to Varric for advice and confirmation. His words did nothing to soothe her, and she shook her head. "No. We have other options."

The dwarf scoffed, promising to wait for their inevitable return. That settled it as much as any plans Hawke had had; she would not be doubted when she'd made a decision. "Come on," she said shortly, "we're going to the Hanged Man." Her strides lengthened, and Varric was huffing a little by the time they reached the tavern.

"Hawke, I don't know what you're planning on doing, unless you're finally taking Isabela up on her offers to do a tabletop show."

"We're calling that plan 'C'. Let's try plan 'B', first." There was a great advantage to the poor quality of the spirits available at the Hanged Man; they fit into even Hawke's budget. She waited until they were halfway through their first round before she reached into the neck of her armor, pulling out something hanging on a thick string around her neck. Gently, she placed it in front of the dwarf.

Varric eyed the ring on the table top for a moment before he let out a low whistle, "Well, Hawke, I'm flattered, but you know you humans are just all too tall."

"Ha. The way I figure it, we're 15 sovereigns short. How much do you think you can get for that? Your contacts are better than mine." She was staring into her mug, refusing to look at the ring on the table, or at the thick, dirty string, evidence of over a year in Kirkwall.

Bethany's hand went over her mouth, "I thought that was gone, you hadn't worn it." Her eyes were wide as she stared at the glittering sapphire that adorned the ring.

Isabela cooed with delight, reaching down to pluck the ring up, testing it on her finger, "Someone wanted in your pants, bad."

"It doesn't fit anymore. Varric, how much?"

Fenris's eyes followed the surprisingly brilliant jewel as Isabela flashed it casually. A distracted corner of his mind noted that it matched Hawke's eyes, though he couldn't place the significance of the ring.

"Marian, that ring is a promise. You can't just-"

Hake raised her hand, cutting her sister off sharply, "It's a promise that isn't going to be kept."

"You can't know-"

"Bethany." Hawke met her sister's gaze, shaking her head sharply. As always, the younger Hawke subsided under her command; they were all starting to, these days. "Varric," she said the dwarf's name a third time.

"Rivaini?" The dwarf held his hand out for the ring, and Isabela released it only reluctantly. Holding it up to the light, he considered the gem, turning it to look for imperfections. It was a lovely jewel, cut into a square that managed to look strong without looking unfeminine. The setting needed to be polished, but it was a bright, heavy gold. Doing the tallies in his head, Varric said, "I think we can get what we need. But, Hawke, are you sure you want to give this up?"

Hawke gave him a wry smile, "The oaf that gave it to me hasn't tracked me down yet. It serves no purpose around my neck, and I'll be hanged if I lose it because some stupid bandit ripped it off my neck. See what you can get. I'll meet you here tomorrow evening to see if we've gotten enough."

"You want to come with me when I sell this? Make sure I'm not cheating you?" The twinkle in his eye and the bravado never seemed forced with Varric.

"I'd appreciate it if you brought Bethany; she seems furious about it." Winking at her sister tiredly, Hawke asked, "Beth, should I be asking pointed questions about you and Joff?"

The mage stood up abruptly, and she held her sister's eyes for a long moment, "I don't want you to do this. We don't need you to do this. I'm not helping." She took the damaged, second-hand staff that they'd managed to pick up from some unsavory vender and stormed from the tavern.

Isabela had managed to retrieve the ring, and was studying it on her finger again. "Who was the nice man who thought he was going to be slipping this on and slipping something in, Hawke?"

Merrill had been watching the exchange silently, clutching a cup of the rather questionable water one could get at the Hanged Man. Finally, in a tone of frustration, she said, "What does a ring have to do with slipping something in somewhere?"

Turning to the elf, Isabela took the ring off. "A man gives a woman this," she held it up pointedly, "so he can do this," just as pointedly, she jabbed a finger through the ring. Just for good measure, she repeated the gesture. Merrill continued to stare at her in confusion.

Ignoring Isabela's explanation, Varric leaned over, giving Hawke a concerned look. "You sure about this, Hawke? That's a... nice ring."

Hawke's eyes were locked on it as Isabela waved it back and forth, but she whispered back, "I can't even put proper food on my family's table, Varric. You can't eat a sapphire." Finally meeting his eyes, she gave a wistful little smile, "Or memories of a dead love."

"Oh!" Merrill's cheery voice suddenly rang out, "It's a sex token. But I got a ring the other day..."

"That was functional," Isabela explained sagely, "it's only the ones that are just shiny that mean that."

Sighing, Hawke drained her mug, "Alright. Last round's on me. Who's in?" She glanced around the table, looking confused, "When did Fenris leave?"