Third times the charm. Okay, so I realized just last night I forgot to include this sort of important chapter so everyone knows what the heck is going on. Well, it's fixed now for future reader purposes. Sorry for those who expected a new chapter... :( I'm working on it.

Hawke's POV

Dawn came. Two of the mages made it back to the Circle all nice and safe; the third had bargained for passage to Fereldan.

Unfortunately for him, it was a slave ship. Unfortunately for the slavers, however, his mother had informed me very nicely over tea that her little snookums had this habit of disintegrating furniture and small animals when he sneezed.

One would assume he'd gotten better about that with age but, just in case, I did hope the slavers kept a clean ship.

"Shh!"

"It wasn't my foot that knocked over the planter, love."

"You laughed!"

"More of a giggle, I feel."

Bell peeked into the foyer. "Alright, should be good. I don't see her."

"Don't see who, dear?"

We both spun; I with a smile on my face and Bell with a look of absolute terror. To be fair, I don't think I'd ever seen mother scowl so much.

"Good morning, mother!" I smiled brightly. "And such a nice morning it is. Well, We'll just be on our way."

I took Bell gently by the shoulder and started to drag her off.

Mother cleared her throat. "Do you know what it feels like to be told your daughter didn't come home last night? It's alright for you, Hawke but not Bell. What in the world made you think that was allowable?"

Mother's words hit like a red-hot dagger in the gut and still I smiled. That is what was expected of me, wasn't it?

"Oh," I waved my hand flippantly. "About six shots of rum and a glass of beer tends to make bad ideas more appealing. And, look! Your daughter," I motioned to Bell. "Mummy's perfect little princess, has not a scratch on her! I've been such a good meat shield." My voice was acidic. "Do I get a cookie?"

Mother's face fell and I dared not even look at Bell's.

"Love…you know I didn't mean that." She said. "It's just-"

"No, I understand perfectly." I said with renewed pleasantness and a smile. "Always have. Now, if you'll excuse me," I did not care that my feet hurt or how tired I was. Mother tried to stop me as I passed but I ignored her.

People scattered out of my way as if the path was on fire; can't imagine why. Perhaps it was the dagger twirling? Or the shit-eating grin on my face?

If it scared them, it shouldn't've; the alternative was much, much worse.

I jogged up some cracked and crumbling steps and took the liberty of letting myself in. The hall was quiet, musty and smelled like dead rodent and alcohol. It was also quite chilly.

Dusty streams of light illuminated the dim hallway through gaps in the boarded up windows; it wasn't much but enough, I suppose.

When I reached the staircase, I jumped deftly over a tripwire and immediately slunk underneath the next, counted five steps and did it all over again.

Thank the Maker that Fenris had about as much knowledge of traps as a minstrel did of accounting; setting them up every night and dismantling them every day I'm sure was difficult enough without having to move the buggers.

After another three steps and a rather nasty bear trap at the landing, I made my way carefully to the third door on the right.

More strategic, he said. Something to do with window placement, line of sight and all that rubbish…

I opened the door quietly, or as quietly as can be achieved when the whole place might fall upon your head at any moment.

In a word, not quietly at all.

Fenris went from dead, exhausted sleep to alert and feral in less than a second. He even grabbed for his sword before it clicked.

"Hawke." Never had I heard my name said with such relief and exasperation. But, there's a first time for everything.

"Scoot over."

Without a word, he moved over toward the wall and adjusted the pillow for me. I fell more than climbed into the bed and snuggled into his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"Thank you." I mumbled. Now that I was warm and snug as a bug in a rug, the exhaustion set in. Fenris curled an arm around my waist and made a throaty sound in response.

"Let's run away to Antiva." I slurred sleepily. "Buy a farm and raise goats, sip Antivan brandy on our porch. We could breed 'um with th' brandy. Antivan Brandy Goats; sheer 'um and drink 'um. 's a good motto."

"That makes no sense, Hawke." He drawled, running his fingers up and down my back. "You don't sheer goats."

"Hmm…" I sighed happily. "We should then."

Fenris chuckled. "Go to sleep, Hawke."

"Mmkay."

Bell's POV

Two weeks and Hawke had not come home.

Mother was a wreak, of course; if she wasn't making a mess in the kitchen, she was scrubbing the baseboards down to dust. She blamed herself for what happened but it was not her fault. It was mine.

For nearly twenty years Hawke's been protecting me; never uttering a word when we had to move yet again or leave a friend behind.

It's not your fault, she always said. But it was-then and now.

Everything Hawke did, she did for me. All the nasty jobs she took in the beginning, the Estate, the titles; all were safeguards against the Templars and prying eyes. Hawke, herself, had become a tool; a chameleon who changed her color and strutted around for show so no one thought twice about little old me.

A tear slipped from my eye and wet my cheek. I wiped it away with my handkerchief and stared up at the statue of Andraste.

She was much more magnificent during the day; all lit up in oranges, blues and pinks by the sun streaming through the stained glass behind her. At night, by the soft glow of prayer candles, she looked solemn and cold.

I pulled my shawl tighter across my shoulders and shivered. It was getting colder with every passing day and the city was positively dreary; all the flowers were dying, the trees swayed like brittle skeletons in the wind. It wasn't at all like winters in Fereldan where everything glistened beautifully with sheens of ice and snow.

Hawke and I would curl up in front of the fireplace, drink tea and she'd tell me stories. I remembered the first winter we had in Kirkwall. Mother was ill that winter and mostly stayed in bed and uncle Gamlen, Maker love him, was usually off…being Gamlen; likely face down in a sewer somewhere and Hawke wasn't around much. In a word, I grew sick of my own company.

One night, I'd put mother to bed with a warmed glass of milk had just settled down in front of the fire with a book when the front door burst open. I don't think I'd ever disappeared so fast in my life but once Hawke lured me out from underneath the bed with a grin and a bottle of Antivan wine we spent the rest of the night laughing and drinking and forgetting everything else.

I smiled at the memory. The next morning, uncle found us knotted together in a crumpled, headache-y heap and put us to bed, grumbling the whole way.

After that, she left for the Deep Roads expedition and I prayed every day for nearly a year that the Maker protect and bring her safely home to us.

Now here I was again.

With a prayer on my lips I anointed my candle with the tip of my finger and lifted it to the flame. I set my candle out amongst the rest; a hundred prayers with a person behind them, begging the Maker to hear them.

It made me feel selfish. How many of these were dying mothers and fathers? A sick child? Or for enough food to feed starving mouths?

All I wanted was my sister back.

I gathered myself as best I could and turned to leave. As soon as I saw the slim figure sitting on the pew just behind me, I froze.

Bugger.

"I thought you might be here, dear." Mother patted the wood beside her. She didn't look angry yet still I approached carefully and sat just a little further away.

Mother peered up at the statue of Andraste. "She's different at night, isn't she?" She whispered. "It's as if she's taken in some of the day's sadness so we don't have to carry it all ourselves."

I bit my lip and looked down at my feet.

"I'm not angry; I was just worried when Orana said she saw you leave. Whatever Hawke thinks, I do worry over both of you..." Her eyes glazed over, sparkling with the flames of a hundred candles.

"When Hawke was born she didn't cry," She said softly. "We thought there was something wrong with her; we thought we might lose her. Malcom tried everything, of course but nothing seemed to help; she just lay in my arms quietly, hardly moving a muscle."

"Day and night, I held that girl, praying to the Maker not to take my baby." she continued. "And then, one morning, she opened those bright blue eyes and she smiled at me. Hawke came into this world making me worry and she hasn't stopped since." Mother chuckled and leaned against me. "And then you came along and you cooed and awed and did all the right things and I understood you. That doesn't mean I love either of you more than the other."

Silence fell; I nestled into her, rested my head on her shoulder and listened to the wind howl outside and watched the candle flames sputter and dance.

"Hawke used to stare at you in your crib with the most curious expression, you know." Mother broke the silence with a gentle voice.

"We'd ask if she wanted to hold you and she'd just shake her head. But little things would happen," She said. "We'd find you out of your crib, sleeping peacefully on the settee near the fireplace on cold nights or Hawke's dolls would find their way into your crib."

"When we'd have guests over, we'd always find the door to your nursery locked and Hawke nowhere to be seen." She chuckled. "Malcom and I eventually had to sit down with her and explain that it wasn't safe to do these things but even still, your father and I were the only ones allowed to hold you without Hawke glaring daggers."

The wind outside picked up and it was getting noticeably chillier. Mother took my hand and pulled me to my feet; the candles were flickering heavily, likely to go out at any moment.

"That's enough wallowing for a night, I think." She smiled and brushed my hair over my neck to keep me warm. "Let's go home."

And we did, completely unaware of the figure watching over us from the shadows.

Snow began to fall. It'd never snowed in Kirkwall before. But flakes of white dotted my cheek as I stared up at our estate from the shadows across the way.

Bell was moping around like a sick cricket, perched on that windowsill of hers and then she saw the snow. I watched with a smile as the window flew open and she reached out to catch the flurries in her palm.

Much like my trusty elf.

"It's snow, love."

"I know that, Hawke." Fenris drawled and indirectly wiped the melting snow on his breeches. "I've…never seen it before…" His cheeks were red and not from the biting wind.

How so very adorable.

"What about you, Choir Boy?" I said suddenly. "Want to make a snow angel?"

"She could fall." His voice was soft, concerned and wholly entranced.

I shrugged. "Could but won't. Let it go, love; she's already got a mum, she doesn't another. You're late, by the way. I've been freezing my tits off for half an hour."

"My apologies, Hawke. Here, take this." Sebastian removed his thick cloak and tossed it to me. I caught it on reflex.

"My knight in shining armor." I said dryly. "Thank you, love but I don't need it."

I tossed it back.

His brows drew tight. "You're blue." He said before throwing it into my arms again.

"And whose bloody fault is that?" I all but launched the cloak at him; missing his pretty face by an inch.

He sighed. "I've never met a woman like you, Hawke."

I smiled brightly, or…I'm sure I did; couldn't quite feel my lips. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Take it as you will." His eyes were back on Bell's now closed window.

"To the point, priest." Fenris snarled low in his throat.

Sebastian raised a brow and, I admit, mummy was a tad startled herself. I patted Fenris's arm and let it linger there…mostly for the warmth. Mostly.

"Mother Petrice has been relatively quiet," He started. "A few missives without the Chantry's seal, a few relatively suspect meetings but nothing to indicate she's involved in anything sinister."

"Wonderful." I sighed. Can't feel my legs, my face or my arse and it was all for nothing. Just bloody wonderful.

"But…" His hand disappeared into his shirt and appeared with an envelope. "I managed to intercept this." He handed it over. It was warm and neatly folded but-

"Sebastian, sweetheart, there's nothing written here."

He nodded and bunched up his coat as the wind picked up. "Meaning she either suspects she is being watched or it means something we're not privy to."

I turned the blank page over in my hands and ran my fingers across the parchment. After a moment, I smiled and shoved the paper in his face.

"Smell something?"

Sebastian looked as though he thought I'd lost my mind but sniffed it carefully and frowned. "Lemons?"

I laughed. "Lemon juice, love. Oh, Petrice; that is so juvenile."

"I don't understand. Hawke!" I grabbed both my strapping men and dragged them across the courtyard.

The moment we entered the estate two things happened; warm air blasted me in the face and an angry dwarf blocked my path.

"Now see here, you hooligan. I will not stand for-is that you, Miss?"

"Bohdan!" I clapped my hands on his shoulders and carefully moved him aside. "Missed you and all that lovely talk. Out of the way, If you please."

Sebastian navigated around him with a cordial nod. "Excuse me, Sir."

"Oh, I must tell missus you're back."

I fell to my knees in front of the fireplace and waved him off. "Yes, yes. Do that."

Sebastian and Fenris knelt beside me as I unfolded the parchment and held it up to the flame. A symbol emerged.

"Honestly, Petrice?" I whispered to myself. "Point?"

It was the Chantry symbol; I should know, I've seen the blasted thing enough lately for three lifetimes.

"No, that's not right. Excuse me." Sebastian snatched the page from my hands and held it up to the light. "See the inner rays? There should be sixteen; there are only thirteen here."

I stared blankly. "And? So Petrice is shite at drawing."

Sebastian smirked. "Even so, this symbol is literally beat into you. Get it wrong and you'll get your knuckles rapped by Sister Graven who is, quite literally, older than Andraste herself with a scowl that could break mirrors."

Okay. I let myself fall back onto my arse and it felt like a thousand pins pushing into my bum.

I winced and shifted on the floor. "So what does it mean, Choir Boy?"

He shrugged.

"Helpful." Fenris drawled.

I leaned back with my eyes shut tight. It sounded positively nasty out now; the wind alone sounded like a hoard of howling ogres barreling down on the walls-

"Hawke!"

A blonde blur leapt onto me and smashed her elbow into my ribs. I gasped desperately for breath through tangles of blond hair and patted my assailant's back gently.

"Bell, dear, you're suffocating me."

"Oh!" She rose up enough that all I could see was blue eyes, cascading hair and bright smile. "Welcome home, sister. Did you see? It's snowing!"

"Oi! Get off." I nudged her with a smile and sat up. Bell had settled herself onto her knees, her eyes shining-and then Sebastian cleared his throat.

Bell went from happy and excited to utterly horrified in less than a second.

"Sweet Maker!" Bell scrambled backwards trying to cover her nightdress with her arms. "Hawke wipe that horrid smile off your face!"

But I couldn't. I really couldn't.

Without a word, Sebastian stood and approached Bell carefully like one would a wild animal and draped his cloak over her shoulders like a perfect gentleman.

Bell's cheeks flamed but she muttered a thank you and pulled the cloak tightly over her body so that she essentially resembled a massive acorn.

Well played, prince. Well played. I saw the way his fingers lingered on her collar just a second too long, the way he brushed against her naturally. Bell, sweet thing, hadn't a clue.

"Good evening, Lady Bell." He said.

"Yes." Bell responded breathlessly. "Good evening to you too, Brother Vael.

"If you're both done fantasizing about shagging each other's brains out," I said a bit too cheerfully. "We can discuss the business at hand, yeah?"

"I-Hawke!" Bell stuttered, studying the baseboards. "Language!"

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably. "This symbol," he sounded exasperated. "I feel, was deliberately misdrawn."

I snatched the paper from his hand and studied it.

"What symbol?" Bell craned her neck this way and that. "Let me see."

"Not now, love. Sissy's working." I tapped my finger on the page. "Alright. Thirteen. Thirty one? Three-one? One-three? It could mean nothing at all."

Sebastian pinched his nose. "Victoria 1:3; I think. Now her hand is raised," He recited. "A sword to pierce the sun-"

"With iron shield she defends the faithful," Bell joined in. "Let chaos be undone."

I looked between the two of them and sighed. "Bloody mockingbirds, the two of you. But, the faithful, hmm? Sounds like a rallying call."

"It sounds like a call to war." Fenris corrected smoothly. "That woman is a coward, hiding behind her faith and those who would protect her."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Where is she?" Mother called. "Where's my baby? Oh!"

Deep breath, Hawke. Smile and-

Delicate arms wrapped around me before I could finish a thought and forced me to my feet.

"Come on, let mummy have a look at you. Have you been eating properly? When was the last time you've had a nice warm bath?" She touched the back of her hand to my forehead. "You've not gotten a fever have you?"
"Mostly. Last week, I think…or, possibly a week and a half-what? Don't give me that 'Hawke' Look; it's Fenris's bloody fault he's got no hot water not mine. And, no, I don't have a fever."

Mother's thin lips twitched as she patted my cheek tenderly. "I'm sorry, love."

"Good." I smiled brightly. "Remember that-Ow!" I glared down at Fenris, looking all innocent as if he hadn't just rapped by blasted shin. "Alright. Maker. I'm….sorry too. I suppose. Fuck!" Once again my shin was burning. Fenris met the fire in my eyes with a pointed look. "I know where you sleep, elf."

I sighed then smiled widely, with lots of teeth. "Dearest mother, I accept your gracious apology with open, loving arms and am jubilantly looking forward to cohabitating with you once more." It was definitely warmer here. Fenris's place was in desperate need of a woman's touch but that, I think, was too much for even me to handle.

"Wonderful!" She clapped her hands together. "And your friends, of course, will stay here for the night."

"Oh, no," Sebastian stood at attention. "I couldn't possibly intrude."

"Nonsense." Mother said sternly. "It is not intrusion and I wouldn't feel right sending anyone out into this mess. Unfortunately, part of the older wing hasn't been fully restored but perhaps Hawke wouldn't mind sharing with Bell this evening?" The look she shot me said I had no choice in the matter either way. "Fenris, dear, you can take Hawke's room for the night and Brother Vael can use the guest room."

I smirked to myself. And mother wondered where I got my sneakiness from.

She already had her claws in Sebastian, leading him up the steps. "I do apologize; the guest room hasn't been used in quite some time so it might be a bit stale and the floor squeaks outside that door something awful in damp weather like this," She laughed. "I can hear it clear to my bedroom; wakes me from the dead of sleep sometimes." Poor, poor Choir Boy. "Oh, goodnight, loves."

Bell and I chorused our goodnights and I patted Fenris on the back. "Touch nothing, I mean it."

A certain drawer specifically that may or may not contain half-nude drawings of a hansom elf; it may not contain exactly three of the aforementioned non-existent drawings. Possibly.

Fenris smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it. Goodnight, Hawke." He nodded to my sister. "Bell."

Bell smiled. "Pleasant dreams."

Once he was out of sight, Bell scurried over and nabbed Mother's crystal decanter off the mantle.

"Let's stay up." She grinned.

I laughed. "Brandy? Love, you can't handle strong tea."

Bell's lip jutted out in a pout and her eyes steeled. She popped the top, plugged her nose and threw back a drink Isabella would be proud of except for all the gagging and coughing.

After she caught her breath, she handed me the decanter and plopped herself right in front of the fire. Alright, sister, let's see just how long you can go.

And so we drank and talked...Bell's sense of 'important' topics degraded somewhat after her fourth drink. Apparently there was a spider in the corner of her room by her desk that she'd named Eswaldo but she didn't get much further than that before she fell over like a ton of bricks. One second, upright and talking and the next snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

I smirked to myself and smoothed her hair. She fussed in her sleep and purred like a little kitten.

"S'astian"

The smirk fell into a sad smile as I picked her up and carried her to bed to dream of her wayward Prince.