Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age

Merry Christmas everyone

Rise of the Hawks

Chapter 9: Celebration

Clean vegetables, perfectly prepared and seasoned meats and fine wine. The prodigal son had returned, and the Amell family intended on celebrating. Carver and Gamlen set the table, as Bethany and Leandra prepared the food. They took the time to speak finally, about how things had gone for all of them. Carver spoke of his training, the skill he had honed with the blade and his intent to make a name for himself with that skill. Gamlen in turn talked about Fausten and Damion Amell, both warriors with a varied reputation. He spoke of their short comings, but also their great achievements. His own adventures even came up. Leandra spoke of her father and mother, their grace and wisdom, and of how she met Malcolm. But there was no reason for her to despair anymore, as if she had learnt to walk with the grief of her love's death.

Marian could see that her family was happy again, and part of her wondered whether that happiness would be taken from them. She walked outside to find Varric waiting for her. The dwarf had a grin on his face, and gestured to the people running on the streets. Marian followed his gaze, seeing that the people were Ferelden from the accents she heard. They walked through the intricate corridors of Low town, excitement across their faces. When they reached one of the warehouses, they joined the piles of refugees that were walking into it. Marian curiously regarded the warehouse, it was old and unused, falling apart somewhat. But there were men working on the areas that were unstable, replacing old wood and floor boards, just as workers from the Ferelden shelter gave our fresh food for the refugees.

"Excuse me," she called to a passerby. "What's happening here?"

"Someone bought this old warehouse and gave it to the shelter, it's going to be turned into an orphanage apparently," the man said before joining the line for food.

"I have it on good authority that the man who bought the deed was foreign," Varric said.

"Yeah," Marian said, turning to the dwarf.

"Yeah, and incredibly happy with his investment."

"Why would anyone be happy about giving something away?" Marian asked.

"I don't know, apparently he waved at the good authority and smiled," Varric shrugged.

"So basically he saw your spy watching him?"

"Marian Hawke, me employ spies?" the dwarf held up his hands in a barely scripted defence, "Spy is such a deadly and official term, my friends are passerby, concerned citizens and occasional gossips, who I occasionally loan money to and they pay me back with their continued company," he explained.

"So you basically pay them for information?"

"Oh Marian, you don't need to pay people to talk, every time I go into a room there seems to be a useful piece of information waiting, hell after a while you'll get the same information."

"So Varric, what did your friends find out about this foreign man, other than the fact he's a nice man?" Marian asked.

"That he was last seen at a ship owned by the Hydians, and that he's paid a visit to several struggling businesses, all of whom were being shook down by gangs within the city," Varric explained.

"This man, I think we both know who he is," Marian said.

She looked at the new shelter and smiled.

"You know, he could have funded the expedition," Varric said, sighing slightly in disappointment.

"I know, but I think he wanted to spend his coin on something that helped people," Marian turned and began a walk back to Gamlen's shack.

"That cousin of yours, I don't think I can agree with or even admire how he so easily throws aside coin, and I'm sure others, less reasonable people won't either," Varric suddenly explained, his voice devoid of its usual tone.

It was a tone Marian was unfamiliar with hearing from the dwarf, he was actually concerned. Probably not for Daylen, but those whom were close to him. But then Marian didn't know who else was close to him, other than she and her family, and even they had only briefly been reunited. Which begged the question, who else did Daylen Amell cherish?

Bella remembered something that once happened to her. It was a night where the dead rose up and butchered the living. She heard people in the hanged man sometimes talk about that night, how the town defended itself. But they had no real idea of just how hard it had been, how big the undead horde had been. There was no real warning, the people of Redcliffe never had reason to be cautious of danger. Then the dead came, killing off those who worked at the windmill first. A young man had run into the tavern, his face bleeding and half of his arm hanging off.

"MONSTERS RUN!" he had said, and people thought he was playing some kind of joke.

It was only when the screams started that people realised what was happening. No time to wonder or ask for an explanation, people ran as fast as they could. Bella however was grabbed by Lloyd and dragged into the basement. Despite how much of a pig he could be, Lloyd hadn't done anything to her that night. But it was still frightening, hearing people scream, hearing the crashing down of doors. Then there was the tapping above them, and both Bella and Lloyd nearly suffocated gripping their mouths so tightly. They didn't know it was morning until someone called out to them.

Bella hid through the night, but Bevin ran, with his mother and sister. It had been a regular day in the house really, Bevin's mother lectured his sister about finding a man, he looked at the chest grandfather's sword was in and dreamt of slaying dragons. But then the screaming started, Bevin's mother went outside to see what was going on. Kaitlyn went outside and then came running in, grabbing Bevin and dragging him out of the door. Their mother was bleeding, and they saw a man lying on the ground. He had an axe that had been used for cutting wood, imbedded in his chest.

"We have to get to the chantry," their mother told them.

Those were the last words she spoke, except for the scream when the man got back up and bit her. Then she told them to go, ordered them to run as the undead monster dragged her by her feet. Bevin never saw what had been done to his mother, but it scarred him. Kaitlyn cried more than he did, in at times, to Bevin, it seemed that Kaitlyn mourned for their mother more than him. But the day after, when Teagan gathered the militia, Bevin wandered out of the chantry. He'd seen the damage the undead had done to the houses, and the bodies being gathered by the chantry priests. His mother's hadn't been among them, he'd looked at every body before it was sown into a bag. Night passed again, and there was a warning this time, the dead had increased in numbers and their eyes seemed to glow, as if the magic that had been used on them was stronger than ever. As men fought outside the chantry, Bevin and Kaitlyn held one another close. He thought it would be the last time he'd feel fear. Then the day came, and everyone saw that the bodies of their loved ones were gone.

It was an army that would grow in size, the dead of Redcliffe would rise again and again to burn the town. Bella believed it would become routine for them to flee to the chantry or the basement whenever the dead came marching down. Bevin considered taking up the green blade and fighting with the other men, but was consumed by the fear. Both hid in their own way, and lost what hope they had. But then something happened, Daylen Amell came to Redcliffe.

Bevin remembered that time as he looked at his sword. He truly could call the green blade his sword now. Daylen had taught him something very important that day, and continued to teach him every day after. But today wasn't a day for teaching, it was a day for Bevin to figure things out by himself. He knew he needed to get more training, and gain firsthand experience as part of an organised military. Though he was surprised to find that he could go into the keep with his sword, and just walk into the guard barracks.

"Excuse me, where is the guard captain's office?" he asked one of the guards, a man with neck length brown hair.

"Door on the left there son," he said.

He walked towards the office, tapping the door as he entered. The guard captain was sitting at his desk, wearing the black gambeson (under armour clothes) of the Kirkwall guard. He was a grey haired man, with one or two scars on his face and fixed comfortably to his chair. The man seemed to have gained some weight, enough to still fit in armour, though he had a full goblet of wine on his desk. He tied a set of documents together and put them into a satchel. Bevin noted the contents, official documents, correspondences between nobles, guard rotations and other important things. The guard captain finally noticed his guest and frowned at him.

"What the hell do you want boy?" he asked.

"Sir, I wanted to apply for a position in the guard," Bevin said.

The guard captain laughed, banging his hand against the desk.

"Have you swung that sword yet? Come back when you're a little older, then I can tell you to fuck off again," the man snorted.

"Sir, I want to help the guard, even if it's just as a steward I want to help," Bevin said.

"You've already helped lad, you've made me laugh."

"But..."

"I SAID FUCK OFF!"

Bevin backed away from the door, lowering his head as he turned away. His grip on his sword tightened as he walked up to the keep's main hall. He suddenly bumped into a cloaked man, who gripped his arm tightly.

"Where you successful?" Bevin was shocked, and relieved to see that it as Daylen.

But then he remembered the disappointing results of his efforts. Daylen noticed the boy's eyes drift to the ground, and tilted his chin up.

"Don't be so eager to join an army, or even to fight, keep training and improving yourself, but most of all enjoy your youth. If you want to help others go to the shelter for the refugees, there you'll find people worth helping, and friends worth making," the mage explained.

Bevin nodded his head, and he couldn't help but shed a tear. Even today, Daylen was helping him down the right path.

Daylen had done it before, when he came to Redcliffe. The village was not in ruins, but it was not the grand spectacle it would have been, had the dead not come back. He came to get help from Arl Eamon, but the situation in Redcliffe made him stop, though he would have stopped to help anyway. Working his way through the village, and assigning his companions to certain tasks, the grey warden prepared the village to 'save itself' as he said to the blacksmith. All he did was point out everything they needed to help themselves, good wood for the barricade, fine weapons prepared by a semi-sober smith, and a unified militia. But through all that he did something that shocked some of his companions, he offered to help a girl find her little brother. That's when Bevin first met Daylen.

"Is someone in there?" Daylen had asked, knocking lightly against the wardrobe door.

Bevin hid on the other side of that door, hugging his knees and looking at the door fearfully. When he heard the unassuming (and not at all frightening) voice of Daylen, he regained a little bit of his courage.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, "This isn't your house, get out," he demanded.

Yet still his voice quivered.

"Are you Kaitlyn's brother? Bevin, Kaitlyn's at the chantry sick with worry," a voice spoke, Orlesian and clearly a woman.

"I don't want to go back there, if I go back there Kaitlyn will cry and talk about mother, the priests will offer prayer, and that didn't help mother before...I hate it there, I hate it," Bevin said.

The terror and fear in his voice was obvious, but so too was the sorrow. He had watched his mother be dragged away, and could only assume she had become part of the Undead. It was a violation to her, as bad as rape, for her will to be defiled after death. Simply imagining what was done to her, what could be done to him and Kaitlyn, especially if he took up grandfather's sword, drove the courage from Bevin's heart.

"I hate the Chantry too Bevin, I can't stand being in one for more than a few minutes," Daylen laughed slightly, and Bevin heard him sit on the ground, leaning his head against the wardrobe. "But it's one of the safest places right now, you have a better chance there then in this wardrobe, why did you run out? Especially with your sister so upset."

Bevin lowered his head, what Daylen said made him think about his sister then, and he regretted not thinking of her before.

"I couldn't stop her crying, I couldn't say a damn thing, I didn't know what to say or what to do," he lowered his head.

His voice croaked and trembled because of the tears.

"Bevin, come back to the Chantry, stay long enough and you and your sister..." he heard the Orlesian woman talk but she was cut off.

Daylen had raised his hand, stopping her from speaking some kind of religious platitude. It probably would have helped, it probably would have been true even, but it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Keep talking Bevin, tell me why you came here," he said.

"My grandfather was a dragon slayer, we still have his sword, I thought that if I took the sword I could protect everyone," Bevin said.

"But then you came to the wardrobe," Daylen said, his voice full of understanding. "I grew up mostly in a tower, getting taught how to use magic, when it came to combat I got so scared of hurting people I ran off to hide in a wardrobe, it became a usual place for people who were scared, there was a time I couldn't go in there because someone was already hiding. Then I realised that hiding wasn't really being brave!"

"I suppose you're right," Bevin said, and sighed as he pushed against the door.

Daylen stepped away from the wardrobe and smiled at Bevin. The Orlesian was a beautiful red head, and Daylen also had a Qunari, and Alpha with him. But Bevin remained focused on the mage.

"Deciding to take up your father's sword is brave Bevin, and there's nothing wrong with a little fear too, caution keeps you smart and gives you an edge. Courage doesn't just automatically exist, it grows from fear, to be brave you have to be afraid first, it's about facing your fears. I have no doubt your grandfather was afraid Bevin, but he took up that sword and charged anyway," Daylen explained.

"Thank you, you're right," Bevin said.

"It was a good idea, I'll take it up for you Bevin, that's what I can do for you right now, the best you can do is go to your sister, you being with her helps more than you know."

Bevin gave him the sword, the green blade, it was of elven make. The Dalish would say it was stolen from a ruin, Bevin's grandfather once said it had been a gift, a mere exchange of effective weapons from one warrior to another, motivated by respect and not culture. Apparently Daylen had been mediocre with the blade, even giving it to a companion in the middle of the fight. When the night was done, a few of the defenders were dead, but the morale of the village was much greater.

"Thank you for helping me find my brother, if there's any way I can repay you..."

"No, that won't be necessary," Daylen had interrupted Kaitlyn's thanks.

Instead he took a pouch of coins and put it in her hands.

"Rebuild your home, or make a new one somewhere else, live on and don't let what happened here rule you, that's the greatest repayment you can give, that's how much the sword you gave me was worth," Daylen explained.

Kaitlyn looked at the amount she had been given in shock, it was much more than what others had deemed the blade worth. For Bevin however he crouched to his level and gave him back the blade.

"This is a good sword Bevin, one day you're going to be big enough to use it, but just remember," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "Knowing when the right time to use a blade can be a test of true courage, its only when you have something to be afraid of that you can truly be brave!"

It was the first of many lessons Bevin would learn from the man.

Daylen walked into the guard barracks, a few were checking the rotas for the patrols, but the place was generally deserted. The guard captain's office door was open, and Daylen could see the man drinking wine. He instead went to the female guard quarters. There weren't many beds there, not as many as there would be for the male guards. Daylen walked over to one of the beds, perfectly made, no personal belongings, cleaned with military precision. But there was still some things that couldn't be avoided, the pressure on the mattress from having a heavy weight (of muscle) on it, strands of ginger hair. Daylen lifted up the pillow, and put the letter he had written for Aveline underneath it.

'Time to see if Marian's judge of character is as good as you hope,' Daylen thought.

He walked a few more paces, stopping at the path that led to the Viscount's throne room. There he saw Kaidan Hydian speaking with the Viscount. Dumar let out a laugh at something the lord said, there was clearly a friendly bond between them. Daylen's eyes crept to the Viscount's office, there were guards posted there, too many for him to sneak a message in. He noticed the Viscount's assistant, a ginger haired man stood behind the viscount, his posture perfect. This was a man who handled all the affairs in the office.

'Time to see if my judge of character is as good as I hope,' Daylen thought as he walked up the steps.

Then he turned, bumping into the Seneschal, as he and the Viscount turned the corner.

"Pardon me," he said politely.

He walked away from the two men, and kept on walking. Seneschal Bran Cavin looked at the letter the hooded man had given him.

"What is that Bran?" Dumar asked.

"Nothing your grace, nothing you'd need concern yourself with," Bran continued to regard the letter curiously, even when he put it in his pocket.

When the morning came and the volunteers for the militia dined, there seemed to be a trace of normalcy. Lloyd groped her, the men talked about their day, their wives and the farming. For a moment it seemed the imminent threat had been forgotten, and Bella was able to smile. Only because she had too, she knew crying wouldn't help anyone, in fact it would only be bad for Lloyd's business, ergo it would be bad for her pay. She kept on being friendly to everyone, offering wine and the stock of what Lloyd gave for the village. But then Daylen walked into the tavern, and the atmosphere seemed to change.

"What's a smart girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asked her.

He wasn't flirting with her or mocking her, but genuinely wondering why she was there. To him a person's ability mattered, class divide was a foreign concept to him. His naiveté was attractive, and his kindness was even more so. He listened to Bella talk about her problems, he didn't complain about them or criticise her for them, the man was genuinely interested and worried for her. He'd been interested in everyone's problems, the smith's daughter being in danger, Kaitlyn's brother. His priority hadn't just been on the physical defence of the chantry, but on the hearts of the people too.

"Will you be fighting?" Bella asked him.

She noticed the red haired Orlesian, and the dark haired, sultry dressed witch glare slightly.

"Yes I will be, I've already got some experience though, and I am a mage, not that that increases my chances," he said honestly.

"I hope you'll stay safe," Bella said.

"I've got no right to keep myself any safer than the other men," he said.

That applied to the other men as well. He convinced a trio of mercenaries to fight, an elf who spied for Loghain, and even Lloyd to take up arms. Through bribery (with glory not coin), compassion and intimidation, he convinced the people who wanted nothing to do with the fight to help. By the end of the night, the mayor of Redcliffe Murdock was dead, but others had lived. People mourned, but they were happy, because they had lasted through the night. But when Bella saw Daylen, he was sitting at the bar, his hands linked together and his chin resting against them. He had clearly been crying from the shine in his eyes.

"You saved us," she said to him.

"Not everyone," Daylen said.

"I heard about Murdock, he'd been protecting the village for so long, I'd heard he had been the first to take up arms," Bella said.

"And he got killed for it," Daylen said.

"You have done something amazing around here sir, you gave people hope when we had none, that is a much greater thing than simply saving our lives," gathering her courage, she placed a kiss on the man's cheek.

Daylen blushed slightly and smiled. He looked at his open palm, and suddenly squeezed it into a fist. No more people in Redcliffe would die if he could help it. That was his oath, and he carried that oath out when he went to the castle.

Fereldans were not a common sight in the Hanged man. But those who did have the coin to drink weren't drinking today. Even people local or regular weren't in the tavern. Except for Isabela of course, she had work to do, precious drink to catch up on and contacts to establish. Her night with the big woman had left her sore, but exhilarated, and for once she was the one left in her bed with questions. But that curiosity shifted, from her priority interest in Kirkwall, to what was going on around her. The people she expected to be revelling were gone, and Corff the barkeep was nearly pulling his hair out. Norah the barmaid was carrying on business as usual, and the new girl Bella, well Isabela liked her from the start. Collecting the cups from their small amount of clients, Bella moved with total confidence.

"Where are they? Maker they never miss this time to drink," Corff said.

Isabela saw a smile cross Bella's face, a knowing smile, a proud smile, and one that told Isabela she knew exactly where the clients were. The former pirate queen looked at her cup, considering a refill. Curiosity itched at her, she would put the cup down, pick it up, and then put it down again. She'd raise a hand to call for Corff, but then she'd lower it. She damned her curiosity, her silly and childish curiosity. But it kept picking at her mind, kept vexing her, she needed to know what was going on.

"Shit," she muttered.

It had defeated her, she put down the cup and went for the door.

"Damn, not you too," Corff snarled, and Bella put a hand to her mouth, trying to stop herself from laughing.

Gamlen's shack smelt better than ever, it was an odd thing to be happy about, but it was just one more thing for Leandra. She sat at the table, watching Marian talk about what was going on in Lowtown. Bethany looked between the hot pot and her sister, and though Carver tried to hide his interest, he paid attention too.

"He's throwing coin into the businesses of struggling Ferelden ventures, even buying warehouses for the poor to use as shelters. The man is moving like, like...a spirit, between different people, helping them, saving them. He truly is the man we've always heard stories told of mother," Marian explained.

She could feel the pride in her eldest daughter's voice, the worship even. Marian had found an idol, a man like her father. Malcolm, Leandra smiled at the memory of her husband. When first she met him, she knew that he was truly good, wanting to help others even in the smallest of ways. It was much like uncle Fausten, her father had told her about his youth. His journey across Thedas was about more than just learning and claiming fame, the man wanted to help people.

"He wishes to be a hero," Aristide would say about his brother.

He wouldn't chide it as a foolish or childish dream. The bond between the two brothers was that strong, Aristide had accepted Fausten's naiveté as his strength a long time ago. He complained about his decisions, often outright chided him for them, but he never held it over him, and he always respected him. Leandra looked at each of her children, and prayed everyday that they would find in one another, the same love her father and uncle had. She knew already that that same bond had developed between Marian and Daylen. He inspired her, and it made Leandra happy beyond any kind of smell.

"They're preparing some kind of party," Marian said.

"Well, I think we're going to be having a party of our own," Carver huffed.

"I don't know..." Bethany muttered.

"What is it sister?" Marian asked.

"This pot, its rather big, a bit much for all of us I would say, I had bought far too much," Bethany said.

"You cannot be suggesting that we, give our food to the others," Carver said.

"I'm just saying Carver, Daylen's spending all this time helping others, shouldn't we try to match that?" Bethany asked.

"No, let him help others, I encourage it, but why do we have to get involved?"

"I agree with Carver, we haven't had a decent meal in a year, let the Fereldans have scraps," Gamlen said.

"You said it uncle, let's go you two," Marian said, grinning as she looked at Bethany and Carver.

She grabbed Carver by his arm and lifted him off of the chair. Carver growled slightly, but then grinned as Gamlen frowned. Bethany tried to lift the pot off of the fire, but clearly struggled. Leandra looked at her brother, pointing with her eyes to Bethany.

"Blight take you," Gamlen threw his arms up, before walking over to Bethany.

He took one side of the pot, putting the lid on it and nodding to Bethany. They took each end and followed Marian and Carver out of the door. Leandra rubbed the back of Alpha's neck and took the key from the table. She locked the door behind her and followed her family, to where her extended family was gathering. The sight was magnificent, the people of Lowtown and Darktown, and those whose fortunes only scratched the steps of Hightown, all of them gathered. Great lamps had been lit, men worked the wooding of the warehouse bought by Daylen. Workers from the refugee shelter looked at the building in astonishment. Others, those who the place was meant for had different variations of the same reaction. Some fought tears, others looked at it with confusion, others lost themselves to the joy and laughed with their friends and family. It was all the same reaction and realisation, that someone was looking out for them.

"Maker," Bethany gasped, nearly dropping the pot.

Marian patted Carver on the shoulder and waved to her mother as she rushed into the clouds.

"Excuse me, you're all from Ferelden right? Well can't you see this place is for you as much as it is for Kirkwall, you could at least help us make it suitable for the night. Help and who knows, you might get a bigger serving of food for the hard work," Marian explained to the men.

They looked at her for a moment, some in confusion, others in annoyance.

"What are you waiting for, WORK! SHOW THEM FERELDEN STRENGTH!" she yelled.

It was enough to spur the men to action. She clapped her hands, giving encouragement and quickening the pace. Before long, Marian was coordinating labourers and volunteers, telling them where to go and what to get. Old food from the stores was bought to the shelter, the left over's low town residents who had already eaten was offered, and gladly accepted alongside the company. The shelter wasn't just for Ferelden refugees, but for the poor, including elves.

"You're all welcome here, you have nothing to fear, if anyone gives you crap I promise I'll kick them out myself, and if not I can have Alpha here do it, he can be very convincing," Marian petted the Mabari, speaking to some of the elves from the alienage.

"Excuse me, am I correct in assuming that you're one Marian Hawke?" a blonde dwarf asked.

"Yes," Marian cast a suspicious eye on the dwarf.

She had seen him near the merchant's guild, with his rather simple son. In fact, the said son had just astonished a few of the engineers, by finishing their work on the door when they weren't looking.

"Excellent, Bodahn Feddic at your service, merchant, adventurer and in this case philanthropist. I will be taking part in the expedition to the deep roads, which I understand you'll be a partner in...master Amell also said you are his cousin," Bodahn said.

Marian smiled, regarding the dwarf with a much greater respect this time.

"What do you have for us?" she asked.

"Paid for at discounted price by your cousin, a collection of fine blankets and bedding for the needing," the dwarf said.

"Pleasure doing business with you Bodahn, I'll tell my cousin you said hello," Marian said.

"Oh he'll be delighted," Bodahn smiled, looking to the workers.

Adaar was carrying planks of wood over her shoulder, a weight that would give most men pause. But she wasn't alone, Bevin was carrying planking as well. Following them was Daylen, but he lacked his formal clothes. Instead he wore boots, brown trousers and a brown vest, a cloak around his neck concealed much of his face. To everyone else, he was just another labourer, whom would occasionally take a roll of bread from his cloak and give it to the children, or to people sitting by themselves. He went up to an elf in a cloak and hood like his. The man had no boots on, and the armour he was wearing was black, with a lot of spikes. Underneath the hood, Daylen noticed markings on the man's face, and his white hair.

"Here," he said, giving the man a roll.

The elf looked up at Daylen in confusion, but also suspicion. Daylen kept still, making it very clear he wouldn't leave until the elf had taken it. Clawed gauntlets gripped the bread and briefly touched Daylen's hand. There was a very brief moment in which the marking's on the man's face glowed. Daylen nodded his head at the elf, ignoring the strange occurrence and moving on. The elf watched Daylen leave, before biting the food he had been given. Isabela walked up to the shelter, looking at it with a hesitant smile. She tried to remain indifferent to it, but when she saw the children playing with the Mabari she smiled fully.

"Oh, there's only one man I've known who could be this much of a bleeding hearted, do-gooding, village wandering, errand running, deep roading, heroing hero," Isabela said.

"I hope you don't mind if I steal that one."

"Hmm," Isabela put a hand to her chin, swaying her hips slightly as she considered who spoke.

"Let's see the accent is dwarven, tends to speak as if he's the smartest man in the room, or the most fun, Varric Tethras," she turned and smiled at the dwarf.

"Hello Isabela, you know when I suggested you come to Kirkwall I didn't actually think you'd actually do it. Shouldn't you be halfway across Thedas, throwing up off of the edge of one of those ships?" Varric asked.

"Shouldn't you be composing a ridiculous story you'll never actually get around to writing?" Isabela retorted.

"Oh I've got a good source of inspiration now," Varric grinned, looking towards Marian.

Isabela followed his gaze, and grinned herself. She saw just how attractive Marian was, and her sister, and brother, even her mother.

"All this can be owed to her," Varric said.

"Oh, I thought someone else was responsible for it," Isabela said.

"Well, they did most of the heavy lifting, but look whose actually organising everything," Varric said.

Marian indeed was acting like the leader Varric knew she could be. By ten at night, people were celebrating in the shelter, gathering for a supper. There was a sense of peace with the merry gathering, as well as a sense of justice. For so long, even the poor had been separated by some kind of divide. But elves, dwarves and humans dined together as equals, Kossith in Adaar's case too. She tilted her ale cup to Daylen, who sat with his cloak removed close to the head of the table. Wheelbarrows of food had been brought in by the Chantry, on the authorisation of Sebastian Vael. The man himself only briefly glimpsed what had been built. But his donation was appreciated, cheeses, hams, sausages, cabbages and potato sacks, water and wine. For the people of low and dark town, they got to loss themselves in merriment in a way nobles at balls never could. Bella joined at the end of her shift, even Aveline came and ate.

Daylen met Aveline, and his family met his prized companions. Bella and Bethany both got on extremely well, talking about Ferelden and how much they missed it, as well as what was to like about Kirkwall. Bodahn spoke well with both Leandra and Gamlen. Wade talked about all of his marvellous creations with Bevin and Carver. That left Daylen, Aveline and Marian to speak.

"The Hydian family? I've heard they're ruthless, but to actually involve themselves in the slave trade," Aveline put a hand to her cheek, and then slammed it into the table. "Someone in the guard is turning their back to this," she said, with fury in her eyes.

"Marian trusts you Aveline, I can tell, she thinks you'd be a good ally," Daylen said.

"An ally for what?" Aveline asked.

"At first I wanted to make things better for my family, but after what Daylen's told me, I can't just stop at funding a deeproads expedition, I need to take how far I'm willing to go further," Marian explained.

"What do you mean?"

"Aveline you walk the streets of this city every day, and every day you see someone profiting off of the misery of another, the Coterie, the merchant's guild, even the nobility. The Chantry only got involved with the poor here, when someone screamed it out to them, had Daylen said nothing, that brother of the faith would have gone back to the other Chantry clerics simply waiting for the poor and in need to get to them..."

"When they can't get to them, I understand that part Hawke, but working with that slippery piece of work Bartrand, how is it any different from working with the Red Iron?" Aveline asked.

"It's a temporary partnership, whomever goes against the other first proves themselves the person of bad character, still, it is wise to be aware of any possible betrayal Bartrand may have planned," Daylen explained.

"The point I'm trying to make Aveline, is that if there's corruption in this city, in my home, then I have a moral duty to bring that corruption to light," Hawke said.

"I don't mind stepping on people's toes, after the blight, I had nothing left to lose, but you're different Hawke, you still have your family," Aveline said.

"I see how close everyone is no, how all you need is a common ground, to get along, this is a night of happiness for everyone, where there's no conflict between anyone. I want to give that to the entire city, by routing out those who would disrupt that kind of dream. My family, innocent lives, I'll protect as many of them as I can, and if I fail, it'll only strengthen my resolves," Marian explained.

"It takes a certain kind of character to come back from the death of someone they value," Daylen said.

"I know, I guess if I don't protect my family well, I'll find out if my character is as good as yours or Aveline's," Marian raised her cup, smiling as she smacked it against Daylen and Aveline's.

The night ended in spectacular fashion. Those who had homes began to walk back to them, others who still needed homes stayed. The volunteers from the old shelter thanked Marian profusely. Then, the reunited Amell family walked home. They sat at the table in their shack, more pleased with themselves than they thought they would be. Marian Hawke was already beginning to make a mark on the city, in the eyes of the people, she had done something no noble would. For Daylen, it was simply the knowledge that a simple act of kindness and charity could make all the difference.

"We talked plenty about what's been happening to us the past year, where have you been?" Carver asked Daylen.

"Yes, tell us about your adventures boy," Gamlen poured drinks for everyone, finishing the last of the ale.

Daylen smiled and nodded his head.

"You already know about the blight," he said.

"Tell us about the real blight, from your perspective, after Redcliffe, Bella told us what happened there," Bethany said.

Daylen put a hand to his head as his family looked at him. They waited for him, with such keen interest, as he thought of the best way to tell his story.

"Well the defence of Redcliffe wasn't the end of it, in fact it was the beginning of a lot things. I returned to a place I hoped never to go back too, and discovered something...that made history...but before all that I came upon a man on the road, a man with a golem control rod!"

Next Chapter 10: Tranquillity

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, consider it a Christmas gift. We've gotten the build up out of the way, now we get onto the main quests of the game.