A/N – Done! Thank you to all who reviewed, and a special thank you to Trading Yesterday for their song, "Shattered." I really think this song fits the complex relationship between Hawke and Anders perfectly, and its lyrics inspired me in the most amazing of ways. Even though this story took me much longer than I intended, I'm glad that it did, because it is what I wanted it to be, and if it took extra time to accomplish that than so be it. I'd rather take nine months and produce something I'm proud of, then take three months and cringe at the outcome. And no, the irony of it taking nine months is not lost on me…

"Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer; the secret of redemption lies in remembrance. - Richard von Weizsaecker"

Disclaimer – This is the last time I will get to say that I do not own Dragon Age or its characters.

The silvery hue of dawn's first rays welcomed my eyes as I opened them to the sound of cranky mewing. That little, lionish roar demanded the most prompt attention and I left the warm bed to gather my baby into my arms. Hazel eyes and cherub cheeks, usually snow white but now stained crimson, greeted me as I scooped him up. I tucked him away under my robe, and he ceased crying and began suckling immediately. I smiled broadly at him, "Am I late for breakfast, little one?"

The only response I received was a content cooing noise. I chuckled and made my way out onto the patio—we had established a ritual that had to be observed—he preferred his morning meal outdoors. Luckily, it was summer in Ferelden, and I could accommodate his wishes. I settled carefully in a chair, taking care not to disturb him, and wrapped us both up in a quilt that was left there from the previous morning. The sun was just beginning to rise and there was still a chill that hung in the air.

It had surprised me how routine my life had become, when it had up until recently been so chaotic. When Anders left, I had realized that I needed some place to settle and roost, but no longer had a place to really call home. After much thinking and debate with my friends, I had made the decision to return to Ferelden, knowing that the King had previously offered to reinstate my citizenship. I even considered returning to Lothering, but had decided against it—too many memories and too far from the sea. Isabela had nearly doubled over in laughter when I told her that I had acclimated to coastal living. So instead, I chose to settle outside the city of Amaranthine, where no one knew our faces, in a modest estate that cost me a good portion of the coin that I had earned while living in Kirkwall.

One of the reasons why I needed a larger home had been the needs of my extended family. I had assumed that my choice to put down roots would have caused some of them to leave, but it had been a foolish notion. Merrill claimed she had no other clan except the one around her, and Fenris' only words had been, "I owe you my life, and I will use it to protect you, wherever you go." Even Isabela had been pleased with my choice of location, as she had claimed she could sail the seas and still stop in to play Auntie whenever she wanted. So, we had all settled in and each day I had found myself thanking the newly-realized Maker for them as my stomach grew and my sanity shrank. But then, Carver arrived, and I knew happiness like none other. Ten little fingers and ten little toes lifted a burden off of my heart that I thought impossible to budge.

I heard gentle footsteps, and my sister's form appeared in the doorway—her raven hair long and flowing down her back. "Would you like something to eat, sister? I see my nephew has already started."

I nodded, grinning, "He doesn't like to wait for food."

"Well, I'll fetch us something to eat, and then Fenris and I have to go into Amaranthine for the day to get supplies. Merrill will be here if you need anything, since Isabela won't be back for a few more days."

I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice, "It has been nearly six months since I gave birth, Bethany, I think I've recovered enough to use a sword by now."

"Maybe so, but I won't risk my nephew to find out," she stated defiantly, as she walked away into the adjoining room. Bethany had become the de facto "coordinator" of our little posse; after Carver's arrival, my friends had all insisted that at least one of them remained with me constantly, and I begrudgingly understood their reasoning. Life had been rather uneventful, but there was always safety in numbers.

When she returned with our oats, I decided to change the subject. A mischievous grin crept across my face as I teased, "You two have been spending an awful lot of time together recently…"

She blushed just a little, "Well, it took a little while to convince him that not all magic users are evil…and that there is more than one Hawke in Thedas."

I laughed, as she sat in the chair across from me and continued, "If I had known you had such handsome men following you around Kirkwall, I wouldn't have stayed in the Gallows…"

Now, we were both giggling, but I managed to get out, "So, should I ask Fenris about your trip? Or will he turn redder than you?"

I heard his gruff voice as he appeared in the doorway, "I do not blush…" He carried his bowl over, nonchalantly, to a seat next to Bethany, and gently squeezed her shoulder with his free hand as he passed, "…unlike your sister."

I had to hold in my laughter as her cheeks turned as red as they possibly could. We finished our breakfast in companionable silence, and then I shooed them out for their trip, promising them both that I would ask Merrill if I needed anything. My Dalish friend had probably had the most difficult time adjusting to her new surroundings. With the distractions of Kirkwall and the trip to Nevarra gone, the realization that her clan was no more had finally sunk in completely and it had left her reeling. She had soothed that ache by beginning a collection of Dalish artifacts and literature, and spent most of her time poring over books in her room. On occasion, she would come to chat with me and play with Carver, and the baby absolutely adored her. When Merrill held him, he would try to touch her ears, seemingly fascinated by their shape and size. For her part, Merrill was amused and enthralled by the child's antics—much like everyone else around him. My son definitely had his father's charisma.

In the many months that had passed, I had not heard anything from Anders himself, but I had heard many rumors from mouths in Amaranthine. Apparently, the rebelling Circles had coalesced into a more unified front called the Council of Mages. More interestingly, several government leaders, led by the King of Ferelden, had begun to arbitrate talks between the Council and the Chantry, in the hopes of avoiding more bloodshed. If the latest rumor was to be believed, all parties involved were close to settling their differences. The war had depleted all sides, and everyone realized that continued fighting was unsustainable. There had been whispers of Anders' involvement in the Council, but nothing concrete—nothing to prove that he yet lived. Although, I firmly believed that he did, for not many other men could have united the mages. I knew that his persistent silence was probably for the best—it ensured safety for both of us and kept emotions at a minimum. But, it still pained me that he knew nothing of his son, and everyday his son looked more and more like him.

Merrill usually came by in the late afternoon, so I put Carver down for a brief midday nap, and then decided to return to the patio for a little personal time. I figured I could curl up with a good book and relax for a bit before company arrived. The porch had to be the favorite feature of both my room and the home itself, and if the weather was decent, I would be found there. From it, I could see the private path leading to the house, and beyond that in the distance, one of the main roads that led to the towers of Amaranthine and the spire of the Chantry of our Lady Redeemer. There was something very soothing about being outdoors, with the salt in the air—it beckoned back to my days trekking along the Wounded Coast.

I shifted in my chair, the noonday sun causing my discomfort; and in my periphery I noticed movement along the main road. I paid it very little attention, as from time to time, travelers were often seen headed towards the city. Back into my reading I went, but something nagged at me in the recesses of my mind, and when I looked out, a solitary figure was making its way towards my home along the path. Company was unexpected, causing panic-induced bile to well up into my throat. I moved quickly into the bedroom, closing the patio doors behind me, and glanced into the crib to see my son which reassured my startled mind. Quickly, I made my way down the hallway to Merrill's room, knocking and entering, "Merrill…someone is approaching the house."

She dropped her book, "What? Are you sure it's not Bethany and Fenris?"

I shook my head, "No…it was just a single person, and I didn't stick around to get a good look."

I left her room, and returned down the hallway to my own, hearing her light footsteps behind me. My hands shook from the long-forgotten adrenaline rush, as I grabbed my daggers from the rack, "Will you stay here with him, Merrill? I am going to go greet our guest."

"I'm not sure it's wise to separate, Hawke."

I nodded, "I agree, but I don't think we have much choice. I'm not letting anyone get near this house unannounced—not with him in it." I locked eyes with her, "Do not leave him, Merrill. I trust you to keep him safe."

She stuttered, "Let me go out, instead."

"No, whoever it is may have seen me on the porch. They have no idea you are here. Right now, we have an advantage, in that they only saw one of us."

She nodded, and I heard the bedroom door close behind me as I walked toward the foyer. I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and then I cracked the door ajar and peered around it to find how much closer the visitor had come. Twenty or so yards away, my eyes found the now clearly masculine form, still moving slowly along the path. The hooded figure was wearing some sort of traveling robe—the palest gray, almost white, in color, designed to protect the head and body from the merciless summer sun. I pushed the door all the way open and stepped outside, calling out, "Welcome…"

The man paused at my words and carefully slid the hood back, as long, sandy blonde hair fell around his shoulders. I stopped dead in my tracks, dumbstruck, as he returned, "I may not be."

My feet ran to him, even as my eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing, closing the distance. He met me halfway, and we stood there just inches apart, frozen in the unreal moment, clamoring to just be near each other and absorbing the sensation. The months had changed him physically—his once barely there stubble had now grown into a full-fledged beard, and his shoulders and arms had broadened. He appeared road-worn and weary: leaner, harder—all steep angles and lines—and dark circles rimmed his eyes. I finally spoke, breaking the silence, "You're here…"

He nodded, and the simple confirmation toppled whatever composure I had remaining. I collapsed against him, and his strong arms supported me as I pulled him against me. His heartbeat raced in my ear, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling his unfamiliar mane brush my knuckles as I locked him into place. His scruffy cheek came to rest against my forehead, tickling me, and he whispered, "…and I won't be leaving."

Intertwined and satisfied, I found it difficult to think, but after a few moments, I realized that there would be time for this and everything else later—right now, there was one thing that could not wait another second. I pulled away slightly, and took his hand in mine, leading him back towards the house. His eyes lit up as I spoke, "Come with me…there's someone you need to meet."