A/N: In the words of Cake, its been a long time, but the writers block is finally gone and there are already three chapters pre-written and ready to be posted after a little editing. I could use the help of a beta, if anyone is interested.

The meeting between Hubert and the Commander of the Grey went suprisingly well in Hawke's opinion. Growing up in the ever changing world of Ferelden nobility had prepared Cousland well for dealing with smarmy Orlesians. He even had the merchant thanking him for his business (though Cousland was definetly getting the better end of the deal). Two of Cousland's other Wardens had accompanied him to the meeting, but they were there more to watch than speak. Nathaniel would occasionally nod if he felt terms were agreeable, or narrow his eyes if he thought Hubert was trying to cheat his Commander. The Commander was watching for these subtle signs out of the corner of his eye, but never making it overtly obvious to Hubert.

But that was the extent of the involvement from either Warden. Sigrun and Bethany had been sent to the Viscount's office to convey offical greetings and deliver a letter requesting permission to build a Grey Warden outpost along the Wounded Coast so that ships travelling further along to Starkhaven or the Vinmarks might have a place to resupply and pass along news from other Wardens.

Hawke thought it would have been a better idea if the Warden Commander had gone himself instead of sending his subordinates, but the Hero seemed to know what he was doing. So far.

He was more concerned about the other mage in the room. He had nearly had a heart attack that morning when Anders had made his appearance. He had heard about the incident with Uldred and the demons overrunning the Tower. His contact had told him many of his fellow mages had been slaughtered by the abominations, but was unable to tell him who was still alive. Combining that with the fact that most of the remaining able bodied mages were sent off to the final battle at Denerim, he had resigned himself to believing that the other had perished sometime during the Blight. From the look on his face, Anders had probably thought the same. With both of them still among the living, there was now much for them to discuss. A chortle of hearty Orlesian laughter brought Hawke back to the present. Seems business was done and Hubert was pleased with the results.

"Monsignor, you suprise me, your Orlesian is impeccable" Cousland smiled, an Orlesian complimenting an outsider on their proficiency of their language was the highest of honors. So rare in fact, that the Empress herself had only made the compliment once in her entire reign. "You sound nothing like your fellow do...countrymen."

"My father believed to keep good neighbors, you needed to be able to speak to one another." A moment of silence followed for the deceased Bryce Cousland, champion of Ferelden and long time ambassador to the Imperial Court. Should you perish, we honor your sacrifice Hawke mused, that line of the Grey Warden oath applied to all men.

"I never met the Teryn, but I heard he was quite popular in the Empress' court. One of her guests even mistook him for the King." Aedan laughed.

"Yes, and gave him an ugly vase my mother never managed to give away, as much as she tried." Another round of hearty laughter, this time everyone joining in. "It has been a pleasure mon ami, but we must be going. One does not keep the Seneschal of Kirkwall waiting." Hawke grimaced at the mention of Bran, that stuck up weasel who had made it clear he wasn't more than an overpaid thug before pushing his equally weasely daughter on him at every opportunity. The merchant and the Commander shook hands and gave each other a companionable pat on the back. One could see now why the Hero of Ferelden was so beloved back across the Amaranthine sea, he could make a friend out of even the most odious of men.

"Joy" Nathaniel's brow furrowed as Aedan brought up the Seneschal. "And here I thought the worst thing Grey Wardens had to deal with was darkspawn." Hawke could agree with the sour Howe on that at least.

"Yes, the life of a Grey Warden, it's a walk in the park...with darkspawn" Hawke couldn't help but grin at Anders' quip. Seems some people never change. "Point the way fearless leader."

Hawke had said his good byes to the Commander and Hubert before heading down a ways to Lowtown and the Hanged Man. He needed to speak with Varric, undeniably his most reliable (and mentally/emotionally stable) friend. He had barely made it through the meeting without making a fool of himself. He kept thinking any minute he might start hugging the blond mage, or socking him in the mouth. Both maybe.

Varric would listen and not judge him. He didn't feel like his other friends would give him the same benefit. Fenris would probably go into one of his anti-mage speeches, Isabela would turn it into a conversation consisting of nothing but sexual metaphors, and Merrill just wouldn't get it. At worst, it was fodder for Varric's next Hard in Hightown.

"Hawke, I hear your playing host to the Hero of Ferelden. You've made friends with King Alistair, the Grand Cleric and an exiled prince, whose next?" Hawke took a seat at the table in Varric's palatial suite as a mug of Corff's best was placed in front of him. Was he that predicatable?

"I'm thinking of courting the Orlesian Empress next, after seducing the Queen of Antiva." Varric chuckled, filing the idea away for a story later. He could see that something was troubling his friend and business partner. Hawke was able to fool most people with his cheery joking manner, but Varric had seen the man behind the mask when they'd been trappedd in the Deep Roads by Bartrand. When they'd been facing the certainty of death Hawke had opened up to him about his past. He told Varric about his time in Circle of Magi, the good and the bad. Hawke had been in love with a fellow mage, but had been betrayed when he caught a close friend sleeping with his secret sweetheart. He had trusted them, and both betrayed him. Ripped his damn heart out without a single thought. It made even the normally calm Varric want to turn Bianca on the other mages.

The incident had pushed Hawke to escape and find his way back to his family. He'd bribed a Templar recruit with extra lyrium and coin for his phylactery. Then using the skills Niall had taught him, punched a hole through lowest levels of the tower to access Avvar tunnels below. With primal magic, he was able to reseal the hole and take the tunnels to the edge of the lake where he ditched his heavy robes and swam to freedom. A few weeks later he'd shown up on his family's threshold in Lothering, the long lost son returned. Malcolm had been cautious at first, not sure if it was a Templar trick to track down the rest of the family, but once it became obvious there was no one else coming, embraced his son completely. For a while, everything had been good. He'd bonded quickly with his younger sister and developed a friendly rivalry with his brother. For a while, he could forget his time in the Tower and enjoy his family. Then Father died from the wasting disease and the Blight drove them from Lothering, the rest Varric knew. Varric had thanked him for his honesty and promised that particular story would remain between them.

"Just remember to have someone watch your back in Antiva, assassins are like rats over there. Maybe the Commander can recommend someone, I hear he's got ties with the Crows." Hawke took another long sip of the barely passable brew, needing the liquid courage before he could spill his guts.

"I might consider running off to Antiva if I could find a ship today." Hawke shifted, hunching over his drink, "remember what I told you about my time in the Tower? Turns out they're alive and a Grey Warden."

"Staying under your roof. Awkward" Varric finished, laying Bianca across his lap as he started polishing the cross bow.

"To say the least" Hawke stared down into his empty mug, wishing for once there was an endless supply of Corff's to drown in. "What do I do, what do I say?"

"If this was one of my stories..."

"We'd be kissing and making up because we're so happy we both survived the Blight before riding off into the sunset." Varric shrugged, that sounded about right. "I was hoping for something a bit more realistic."

"My suggestion? Just talk." Varric held up a hand before Hawke could issue a retort, "I'm going to have a card game with Fenris and Isabela, I'll make sure the word is passed along to your guests. Just show up around 11, once everyone is a little in their cups. Might give you the time to think of what to say."

"Well, with an invitation like that, how can I refuse?" The jovial mask was back in place. "I have a few things to take care, but I'll be there." Varric leaned back in his chair, contemplating Hawke's little predicament. As far as he knew, Hawke hadn't been in a relationship with anyone since arriving in Kirkwall three years ago. He didn't even visit the Blooming Rose, except to drag Gamlen home after one too many. It would seem he was still in love with his mage sweetheart. Getting the two back together, now that would be a best seller.