Author's note: For the record, I have nothing against mages. In fact, I would give my left foot to be able to do a fraction of what mages can in real life - and considering my rather pricy tattoos, that's saying something. Siobhan, however, feels differently - as you'll learn. It bears being mentioned.

And enjoy.

Chapter 3 - surprises, surprises everywhere - and not a drop to drink.

The distance between the clinic in Darktown and the Chantry in Hightown was immense, and Hawke had the pleasure of fending off a barrage of questions for the entire duration of the upward trek. She usually worked hard to maintain an albeit strained level of friendship with Bethany, and under most circumstances had no problem protecting her good-natured sister from any misgivings she had about their relationship. Hawke simply didn't consider incessant badgering about the contents of her dreams to be "most circumstances".

"There has to be a reason you're so unpleasant today!" Bethany insisted as they climbed the ornate set of stone stairs leading to the uppermost level of the city.

"Find a mirror and you'll stare it right in the face." Hawke muttered as they reached the top, squinting in the harsh sunlight.

"If lack of sleep isn't the issue, then it had to have been something that happened while you slept." Bethany had a better knack for reading her than Hawke would have liked, and worried at any piece of information she read in her face like a dog with a bone.

"I don't see why you're so interested in what happens while I'm sleeping." Hawke led them through the throng of people perusing Hightown's market square, which was far more orderly than that of Lowtown. "It's just a lot of snoring and showing up to battle in nothing but my underpants."

"I wouldn't be so interested if you'd just confide in me once in a while." Bethany had no problem keeping up with her sister, even when she agitatedly picked up her pace. "Did you dream about Carver again?"

Yes. "No."

"Was it anything out of the ordinary?"

Oh Maker, yes. "No."

"You have to tell me something." Bethany said. "Or else I'll tell Anders you have strange dreams on top of insomnia and see what he does then. You'll be drowning in tisanes by the time he's done with you."

Bethany had her there. Hawke sighed, slowing as they approached the looming Chantry. She scanned the perimeter of the building and wracked her brain for some aspect of her dream that wouldn't give away quite how – unique – it had been. "It was just about the night we met Fenris."

Bethany screwed up her face. "Ugh, Anders won't be interested in that at all. You realize he's infatuated with you, right?"

Hawke balked, about to whip around and demand of her sister which one when a trio of Templars exited the Chantry, briskly trotting down the steps. She froze, recalling what the beady-eyed man in Lowtown had said should be done to Ferelden mages before leaping at her sister in a panic, throwing her into the entrance of a nearby alley and pushing her unceremoniously into a doorway. Bethany screeched with indignation but Hawke clapped a hand over her mouth, pushing her against the carved wood door. "Be cool!" she hissed; her sister glared daggers in response.

Hawke tensed when she heard the Templars stroll by leisurely, discussing whatever it was Templars talked about. When she was certain the coast was clear she let go of Bethany, who stumbled out of the doorway looking mad enough to spit. "What the hell was that for?"

"I had the sudden urge for a cuddle." From her vantage point at the entrance to the alley Hawke gave the Chantry courtyard another quick scan, relieved that none of the people milling about seemed to have noticed their actions. "Those were Templars, and you're an apostate. Figure it out."

"We see Templars nearly every day! That doesn't give you the right to go around shoving mages into alleys all hither and tither." Bethany pushed past Hawke out into the courtyard, crossing her arms.

For once, Siobhan didn't have a response. On the one hand her sister was traipsing around in broad daylight with a staff strapped to her back, but on the other… she had a point. Nothing had happened to her or any of the other mages they knew for simply going outside. Regardless, the paranoia picked up from a lifetime on the run wouldn't go away just because her sister was an adult, and her protective instincts toward Bethany had only deepened after the loss of their brother.

"Just be careful." Hawke said as she steeled herself to enter the hub of the city's pious and devout. "And keep watch."

"It'll be a piece of cake." Bethany assured her as Hawke climbed the steps, wondering how quickly she would come to regret venturing outside that morning in the first place.

Nobody took special notice of Hawke as she entered the Chantry, a fact which she mentally saluted the massive statue of Andraste for in thanks. Following the instructions from Anders she'd memorized, she lingered by the base of the stairs until she was sure no one was watching before silently sneaking upward.

If she remembered correctly, there should be a row of doors at the left of the upper floor – yes! Adrenaline flooded Hawke's veins as she flitted through the first door and crouched, allowing herself a moment of stillness as the peered down the hallway she had to travel. Rows of sconces lined the walls, bathing the hall with a cheerful light that chased away any hint of shadow Hawke could rely on for stealth, and the area lacked anything she could hide behind in a pinch. She would have nothing at her disposal apart from her own skills if she came across anyone else. Despite herself, Hawke's heart thrummed in excitement.

The right-side wall was helpfully devoid of any doors. Keeping her back to it and remaining as low to the ground as possible, Hawke stealthily made her way toward the end of the hallway. She paused only once as her ears made out hushed voices from behind one of the closed doors, but whatever the room's occupants were up to kept their attention elsewhere. Hawke quickly reached the last door and shuffled over to open it, discovering with a loud click that it was locked.

No matter. She had it picked in less than a moment and entered silently, finding herself in what appeared to be a storage room. Hawke spied the bookcase Anders said would be adjacent to the entrance and cleared the contents from the second shelf to the bottom, revealing a false back-panel with a tiny lock. She picked that as well, musing all the while that it was a good thing they'd gotten her to help. The image of Anders and Bethany clumsily attempting to force open a locked door made her stifle a laugh, and she had to regain composure before continuing. She reached her arm down to the bottom of the compartment, groping until her fingers grasped a cylindrical object wrapped in rough fabric.

Siobhan extracted the bag, dangling it by the twine drawstrings triumphantly. Though she itched to leave the Chantry as soon as possible, once she'd restored the bookcase to its original state burning curiosity got the best of her. She untied the bag and held it upside down, allowing its sole content to fall into her outstretched hand. She stared for a moment, disbelief settling in as she recognized the object. Any feelings of elation she may have felt abandoned her in an instant as turned the small glass vial over in her hand.

She was holding a phylactery.

Once outside the Chantry Hawke stormed down the steps two at a time, pushing past an astonished Bethany as she made way for the nearby alley. Her sister gaped and followed her, breaking into a jog to keep up as Hawke practically threw herself around the corner.

"What's wrong – did you run into trouble?" Bethany asked before her sister thrust her arm toward the young mage, glaring at her until she took hold of the bag in her outstretched hand.

"You knew about this, didn't you?" Hawke spat at her sister. "Didn't you?"

"I, uh – yes!" Bethany stammered, clearly shocked by Hawke's reaction. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is that I might have just helped an apostate escape the Circle, with no backup," Hawke struggled to keep her voice at an enraged whisper lest anyone overhear, "without even knowing it!"

Bethany straightened and narrowed her eyes, adopting an infuriating expression Siobhan knew all too well. "I'd have thought you of all people would support a mage finding their freedom."

Hawke couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You have no idea who this belongs to, Bethany! For all you know it could be a blood mage, or something worse!"

"Anders wouldn't have anything to do with a blood mage." Her sister responded matter-of-factly, apparently struggling to control her temper.

"Yeah, well, you can tell Anders I won't have anything to do with him if he pulls something like this again." Hawke stalked out of the alley, clenching and unclenching her fists as her sister followed. "And take the damned phylactery with you."

"He wanted to talk to you when we were done."

"Why, so I can be dragged into even more things I want to stay out of? Tell him I'll talk to him when I'm good and ready." Hawke stared her sister down until she turned and strode haughtily away.

Andraste's Maker-damned blighted toenails! Hawke fumed as she headed in the opposite direction, resolving to take the long way home if it meant she could avoid her sister. Her attention was focused on bitter thoughts as she walked; therefore she didn't notice the crouching figure sneaking up behind her until –

"SURPRISE!" A voice screeched from behind her as a pair of arms reached around her chest. Hawke reflexively elbowed her assailant in the stomach and broke from their grasp savagely, whipping her daggers from their sheaths as she sprang away into a crouch – only to see Isabella doubled over from a mixture of pain and laughter.

"You should have seen the look on your face!" The raider managed to choke out between gasps. Hawke straightened and balked, rushing to help her friend to her feet.

"You should see your face! What the blazes are you doing?"

Isabella had to grasp Hawke's shoulder as she struggled to catch her breath, strained giggles interspersed amongst her wheezes. "I – gasp – have been trying to find you all day!" Hawke gave her a moment to compose herself, laughing when she finally straightened and flashed a dazzling smile as if nothing were amiss. "You are the world's hardest person to trail! First I hear you're in the Lowtown market, then Darktown, then I finally find you in the Chantry courtyard?"

"I don't even want to know how you found all that out."

"I have my sources." Isabella replied mysteriously.

"More like you have Varric's sources." Hawke shook her head. "You could have just waited at my place, you know. Gamlen's probably still passed out in a fish-drenched drunken stupor – you'd get along swimmingly."

"Well you're in luck, because that's exactly where we're headed!" Isabella tapped Hawke's nose with a suntanned finger, causing her to scrunch her face in confusion. "I have not one, but two surprises for you!"

"Is this including the surprise attack, or additional to?"

"Additional to." Isabella cocked an eyebrow and grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "You'll never guess who's coming to the Hanged Man with us."

Hawke gasped, clutching her hands to her chest. "How sweet! You mean the Viscount finally responded to all my invitations?"

"No," the Rivaini took her by the arm and dragged her off, practically skipping in amusement, "but Fenris did. Varric is going to piss himself when we show up with him in tow."

Hawke wanted to inform her that the dwarf had far too much poise to soil himself in any capacity – but could only manage a strangled grunt as her cheeks flushed and heart leapt in her throat. Instead she let herself be shepherded toward the steps to Lowtown, bewildered that she'd found herself stealing from a religious institute, reaming out her sister, being attacked in the middle of a Hightown courtyard and was likely about to embark on a drunken adventure with unfathomable results – all before four-o-clock.

She really should have stayed home.