DISCLAIMER: I base my stories on Intellectual Property (IP) owned by BioWare™ and EA™. I pretend to live in their world.
SPOILERS: I refer to information from the games, the novels and the comics. If you have not played or read, please beware.

A/N: Alistair has returned from the Deep Roads and begun to settle into his life in Kirkwall. Returning one afternoon to his rooms at the Hanged Man he finds a surprise.

A SONG IN THE STILLNESS

Chapter 15: Tired of Killing

9:32 Dragon, Harvestmere === Kirkwall

"I should freeze you where you stand to pay you back for taking off without a word."

"Liam!" Alistair dropped his pack. "I did leave word. And how did you get in here? Have you created a lock picking spell?" Understanding dawned. "Ah, my friend Varric."

Smirking, Liam did not confirm Alistair's assumption. "Right - barely more than a word. A scribbled note. Cryptic and short on details. Morrigan was right there. You could have spoken with her. She wouldn't have stopped you."

"What you - or Morrigan - don't know you can't tell."

"You think we'd give you up to Weisshaupt? Or Orlais?"

Alistair sighed. "Not knowingly or willingly. Of course not. I…it's not what I would do today, but then…. And I have written to you through Varric since I got here."

"I still worried. Morrigan said you were…well she didn't use the word, but despondent."

Alistair snorted. "Yeah, that's a good word, hence the leaving with no notice, but it worked. I've found a place of sorts here, even if too many people seem to figure out who I am. Varric, Hawke, Fenris, Isabela…Anders knew right away, of course, but I've managed to avoid Jowan and his passenger." He looked at Liam. "How in the Maker's name did you let that happen!"

"Let it happen!" Liam almost shouted.

Wincing, Alistair held up his hands, palm outward. "Sorry, it's just such a…bad thing."

The two stood looking at each other.

"Like swooping?" Liam finally broke the silence.

"Will I never live that down?" Alistair grumbled. He frowned at Liam. "So, are we angry at each other?"

Liam took a few steps forward and Alistair did the same. They extended hands, but Liam grabbed Alistair's wrist and pulled him forward, wrapping his other arm around his friend's shoulder saying, "not angry, but we've missed you and we worried."

"Missed you too, but Soldier's Peak felt more like a prison than a refuge." He spread his arms to encompass his flat. "This is a refuge."

Liam surveyed the rooms again, with their carefully tended and stored weapons, the scribes stand stocked with quills, inks, charcoal, brushes, and pots of color, and the cozy alcove with bed, desk, and chairs by the small hearth. "I can see that," Liam conceded. "It must be freeing to be yourself with your friends, but can they be trusted?"

"The three I journeyed to the Deep Roads with? Yes. Then there's Isabela."

"The sea captain from the Pearl?"

"A Captain without a ship and some mysterious problems, but she voluntarily offered to keep my secret and has for months." He rubbed his jaw, covered in by an untrimmed beard. "She and Zev go back a ways, as friends.. That may help."

"Good luck with her," Liam said, frowning, recalling the way she had teased Alistair and annoyed Mel at the Pearl.

"What about Jowan and Justice?" Alistair asked. "I'd worry a lot more if he, or is it they, recognized me? Anything you can do?"

Liam sniffed. "I keep telling myself that Wynne managed her spirit, but this isn't the same. He's not mature and reasonable and Justice isn't in the Fade. I'd like to separate them, but even Morrigan knows of no way to do that - short of killing Jowan and ensuring Justice doesn't find someone else to…inhabit." He saw Alistair raise his eyebrows. "It's not possession, not strictly. Jowan's not turned into a demon."

"Morrigan recommends death despite that?" Alistair thought he knew the answer and wasn't sure he disagreed.

Liam nodded. "Yes."

Alistair must have looked shocked, even though he expected the answer. Shaking his head, he spoke hesitantly. "I don't believe I'm saying this, but I can't say I disagree. Must be the templar training - let no demon-possessed mage live. If Jowan's not possessed, it's too similar for my taste, if Anders' descriptions have any value." He held up his hands. "I know spirits can be good. They're Demons and spirits are opposite sides of a coin - one good, one bad." His lip quirked up on one side. "I am surprised to agree with Morrigan."

"She respects magic. She's not fond of those who abuse or misuse its power. She's even less fond of demons and blood mages." Liam sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I'm not either, but I won't pass judgment on him yet, at least not extreme solutions. I've not seen him use or had reports of him using blood magic, but we know he's capable of doing so."

"Yeah, I've heard her lecture on blood magic as a tool which most blood mages misuse, as Jowan's already done did when he fled the Circle." Shaking his head, Alistair motioned towards the chairs by the cold hearth in his bedroom/study. "Sit. It's a huge burden for Anders - dealing with Jowan-Justice alone."

"I know. That's why I'm here and will visit more often."

"Liam, I know they were both your students in the Ferelden Circle. Maybe you should have Taina come next time. Get another opinion."

"Have you been corresponding with Morrigan?"

Alistair laughed. "Not another thing we agree on?"

"She respects Taina, too. It might be a good idea. I'll let you know so you can be away or something…unless?"

"Appreciate that. Taina doesn't need the burden of my secrets." He stood. "I'll have Norah bring up some stew and bread." He soon returned with a pitcher of ale, pouring portions into two pottery cups as he promised the stew would follow.

"So, not angry with me for leaving?"

"I was never angry with you for leaving, just sorry it didn't work out at the Peak and annoyed you didn't confide in me. You could have waited until I arrived for Kieran's birth." He saw Alistair roll his eyes and shrugged. "Might have been bad timing for that discussion?"

Alistair snorted. "You think so? Welcome to the Peak Liam, please ignore your pregnant lover and talk to me? Morrigan would have turned me into a toad."

Chuckling, Liam tried to explain. "As I said, Morrigan told me how disturbed she felt after her conversation with you. You're my friend Alistair. I know you're used to dealing with issues on your own, but you have friends now."

"I do know that Liam, which is why I've communicated with you through Varric, but I had to work it out for myself. I needed to find a place to settle, where I could leave Alistair behind, be Alun, and make a life. This works for now." He changed the subject, asking, "Is the Peak working well?"

"We miss the training you could provide, but Sigrun's turned into a good sergeant. She works well with the troops, with Levi and his family, and Morrigan likes her."

Alistair chuckled. "That's an accomplishment. I thought she might become a leader. The Legion train their recruits well. Maybe you should recruit more dwarves from Dustown."

"Yeah. Taina's amazing as my Warden Constable."

"Daveth doesn't mind her position?"

Laughing, Liam said, "He's happy as our scout in Denerim. He uses his old contacts, thumbs his nose at the guard, and works well with Anora's spymaster, Erlina. He's even accepted by the elves, with Erlina vouching for him, and being known as Kai's friend. Taina divides her time between the Vigil, where we're still cleaning up after the Architect and his talking 'spawn, and Denerim. The Regents respect and trust her, which is why I can travel like this. I divide my time between Denerim and the Peak."

Alistair grinned. "And how is fatherhood?"

Liam gave him the widest smile he had ever seen from his friend. "I recommend it." Then, realizing how that might be taken, his smile disappeared, and he began to apologize.

"Liam, stop. I am happy for you both. Don't ever apologize for loving your son. Not ever."

"Right."

"Sorry, didn't mean to be quite so emphatic, but…." He sighed. "Just be there for him, love him…something I missed. Anders said you named him Kieran, that he has black hair and blue eyes, and a loud, lusty - that's Ander's word - cry."

Liam laughed. "Not a bad description. Morrigan would add that he's always hungry. She finally agreed to a wet nurse, to help feed him when she's not there, so she could continue her work with Avernus."

"Any more progress on the Joining potion? Or a cure?"

"No cure, but our Joining survival rate has already improved with the new potion. We've only had one death, and she already had Blight sickness. Sadly, she contracted it from that 'friendly' talking darkspawn, the Messenger, who warned us about the attack on The Vigil. We let him go after his assistance in Amaranthine, but in his effort to help people, he spread Blight sickness. We had to kill him."

"You regret it?"

"He had good intentions, but he had to feed and live somewhere. It couldn't be anywhere near humans or other darkspawn. It was either end him or put him in a cell at the Peak and only let wardens near him. We explained, and he asked to die."

"Liam. You make it sound like things are improving, but…." A knock on the door interrupted Alistair, who got up to answer. He returned with two bowls of stew. "Not the best you've ever eaten, but it beats cooking it yourself."

"Certainly, beats you cooking it, yourself." He laughed when Alistair stuck his tongue out at him. I should remember how young he is. Only twenty-two. "You seem to have joined a good group here."

"I have." Alistair shoveled another overflowing spoonful into his mouth.

"But…?"

"I'm tired of killing people, Liam. Here we fight bandits, mercenaries, Tal Vashoth, Qunari, even 'spawn…. Everyone's fighting everyone else and the refugees…you should carry back the message that they're living in squalor in Darktown, if you haven't already. I'm sure Anders has told you."

Liam nodded. "The Regents know, but don't have the money to bring them back."

"Don't they need workers and farmers?"

"Yeah, but they have their own refugees in Denerim, the Bannorn, Redcliffe, South Reach, everywhere except Highever, really. Arl Loghain and Teyrn Eleanor are re-settling the refugees they found in Gwaren, but there are so many more throughout the south of Ferelden. With so much devastated land around Ostagar and north past Lothering, everyone who fled, and survived must go elsewhere. They'll worry about the refugees here and throughout the Marches once the local ones are settled." He ate more of the stew and took a swig of ale to wash it down.

"Huh?" Alistair put a finger to his lips and said nothing for a bit. Finally, he looked at Liam. "Let me talk to Anders. Maybe we can help. There's more coin than we need for the clinic."

"I'll take any proposal to the Regents," Liam said. He nodded toward the rectangle drawn on the opposite wall around an area showing, which showed signs of damage to the concrete. "What's that?"

"Putting in a door to the next room. It's where Varric put his new printing press." Seeing Liam's puzzled look, Alistair chuckled. "I've been working with him on learning how to use it. He wants to publish his own books."

"So, he is the writer."

"Yeah, you didn't know that?"

"No, just knew him as a merchant." He laughed. "His books are popular."

"Morrigan?" Alistair sounded skeptical.

"No, but Anora and Delilah love him."

"Anora?"

He chuckled. " Yep. I think Sigrun reads them too. I suspect she gets them from Pippa,"Yep, but, don't change the subject, why the door?"

"We may want to carry some broadsheets out secretly. With that door, we can do it through my rooms. It's why I'm doing the work and not some hireling."

Liam sighed. "Let me guess. The Mage Collective, or whatever they call it here.

"" Seeing Alistair's questioning look, he added, "As long as Anders is careful, I have no objections. As for that, mMaybe I can help. I can't burn concrete, but I might be able to crack it, which would make your work easier. Even better if Anders and I work together and burn both sides."

"That would be incredible."

As Liam got up to depart, Alistair asked him to wait and went to rummage through his desk. He handed Liam a cylindrical wooden item with string hanging from a cleft around its center and a carved wooden rattle. "For Kieran. The rattle for now, it's elven made. Sylvan wood so it will survive teething I'm told."

"And this?" Liam asked holding up the two thick disks attached to each other in the center by a slender spindle of wood, which separated the discs. A string looped around the spindle in the channel it formed between the discs.

"It's dwarven. Got mine in Orzammar and learned to use it there. Had Varric find that one for Kieran. The dwarves call it a farmuk." He took it back and made the toy drop and retract along the string. This basic move is not hard. I'll teach you more when you come back."

"Thank you," Liam said. "These are marvelous." He tried to sling the farmuk, but it just dropped. Alistair laughed.

"Takes practice?" Liam asked.

"It does, but once you get it you won't forget."

The next day, the two mages aimed their fiercest sustained streams of fire at the center line of the door in the room next to Alistair's. At first, the fire only blackened the wall, but, after numerous blasts of heat, cracks appeared. After refueling with lyrium potions, they repeated the scorching attack, and the cracks widened. Both men rested and ate a meal before continuing to scorch the wall. Once they finished, Alistair took a huge hammer to the damage and satisfied everyone when huge chucks fell out of the wall. Anders and Liam moved on to work on the wall in Alistair's room, dislodging more chunks until they broke through. Varric had already stored timber framing in the room with the press, so the three men made quick work of shoring up the new entrance, with its still rough edges.

Sitting in his rooms with more stew and ale, Alistair pointed to the doorway and said, "I can make the opening pretty, but I could never have accomplished this so quickly. Thank you."

"This will let you print documents and broadsheets for the underground and get them to us unobserved," Anders said. "Of course, I'd help. After losing Karl, I will do anything to aid the mages. ." He looked at Liam, whose eyebrow had raised. "Sorry, Liam, but Mmaking Harrowed mages Tranquil, abusing them, and killing anyone a templar suspects of demon possession…I won't stand by, warden or not."

"I won't stop you, Anders," Liam said, rubbing his temple. "Greagoir would never have made a Harrowed mage Tranquil for anything save murder. First Enchanter Irving would never have allowed it."

"First Enchanter Orsino can speak out, but Meredith doesn't listen," Anders said. "Never thought I'd say this, but the Ferelden Circle looks like a haven for mages compared to the Gallows."

"As I keep saying, Just do it carefully, Anders," Liam said. "I don't want to find you in the Gallows. Sounds like being a Warden might not matter. Any escapees, send them as recruits to the Peak, where we can decide if they're warden material. If not, we can work something out with Highever." He looked from Anders to Alistair. "What you shouldn't do is flood Highever with mages carrying false papers. It will destroy the Highever Accord and all the mages will suffer. I'll approach Greagoir, maybe through Wynne, and see if he can help. Provide a refuge for escaped mages." He held up his hands. "As you said, Anders, it's still a Circle, I know, but it's not this Circle. Many mages would settle contentedly at Kinloch Hold, I think, instead of running and hiding."

Anders grunted, as Alistair squeezed his arm. "He makes sense Anders."

"Says the former templar."

Alistair, lips pursed, cocked his head at Anders, but refused to take the bait.

Anders eyes narrowed, but he only shrugged. "I'll tell our people that we can only send good mages to Ferelden, no blood mages or demon possessed ones. Oh, wait, we don't set those free."

"At least not knowingly," Liam said softly.

"We check for cuts and depend on the other mages to tell us what they know," Anders said. "If we find evidence of blood magic they don't get out, or, we set them loose to fend for themselves. We'd never send them to Ferelden." He closed his eyes. "I know, not the best solution, but it's the one Jowan accepts."

"Jowan or Justice?"

"Is there a difference? I don't think there is anymore." He looked at Liam and changed the subject. "So how goes wardening in Ferelden?"

Liam refilled his cup with ale and stared into the fire Alistair had lit, as he took a few deep draughts. Deciding he had made his points clear to Anders, he accepted the new topic. "It's good on the surface. My wardens do their job. It's just so hard to stay out of the world outside our compound. It's hard not to care what happens to Ferelden after we gave so much to save it."

"Politics?"

"Yeah, but it's all woven together. Politics, trade, rebuilding, housing, feeding refugees…where do you draw the line?"

"I don't know. I guess I dodged an arrow when I, gave up being Warden-Commander and went into hiding. Do you have to attend Court?"

"No, but I meet with the Regents, Arl Cauthrien, Arl Nathaniel and any others who think they have darkspawn infestations. I attend every Landsmeet. I worry."

"About?"

"Teyrn Bryland has taken to visiting me more often than I'd like. He's worried about Fergus."

"What's wrong with Fergus? Zevran said he didn't take Mel's death well."

"He's convinced she's alive and that, with you believed dead, she simply took off and left him to deal with being Regent and Teyrn. I think he's using her as a focus for all the anger he feels after losing his wife, his son, and his father when he wasn't there. He blames Mel for letting them all die while she survived."

"I thought he got over that when we are all in Highever," Alistair said. "They got on during our time in Denerim before the Battle."

"Apparently not, at least not since he's decided that she ran away, shirking responsibilities again."

A harsh laugh from Alistair followed that remark. "Mistress Duty-Calls shirk anything? That's ridiculous," he snapped.

"He's annoyed with his mother too. She's been off in Gwaren helping Loghain rebuild, leaving him in Denerim as Regent and Philippa in Higheverport as Arlessa and Fergus' regent for the teynir."

"And Anora?"

"She's paranoid about threats to the Queen, but otherwise fine. Her maid, Erlina, has a whole network of spies who report back to her."

"That's not new. Erlina's been her spymaster…spymistress?…for years. Zevran helped her re-establish the network before he left Ferelden."

"Huh. I didn't know that, but honestly, I think Fergus influences her, even though she tries to remain positive. He suspects intrigue at every turn. She's constrained him at times, particularly when he believed Nathaniel and Delilah Howe should be watched, but they both encourage Loghain to remain in Gwaren. Anora does it because so many nobles still feel Loghain's punishment should have been more harsh. Fergus seems to agree with the nobles, even though he knows about Howe's blood mages." He saw Alistair and Anders frown. "Remember, the Landsmeet doesn't know about the blood magic, only the forged documents Howe produced, so they place a lot of blame on Loghain. As long as he's in Gwaren, it seems Teyrna Eleanor will be too."

"I would have expected the Teyrna to help in Highever."

Chuckling, Liam said, "So did Fergus, but she divides her time between Gwaren and Denerim." Growing more serious, he continued. "I think the Teyrna finds Highever and Castle Cousland hold too many memories. With Teyrna Eleanor away, Fergus leaves running Highever to Arlessa Philippa and his Seneschal." He smiled again. "Then there are the rumors about the pair in Gwaren, which bother Fergus and Anora. Just what are the Dowager Teyrna and Arl MacTir up to?"

"Up to? Neither of them would betray Loghain's own granddaughter." Alistair snorted.

Liam laughed. "Not those kind of rumors, Alistair. The whose sharing whose bed sort of rumors."

"Teyrna Eleanor and Loghain?" Alistair stopped. "Hmmm. That's not as far-fetched as it sounds. They always got along. I could see them together."

"Well, you're not the only one, but most don't speak of it so benignly, not to mention that would make Anora and Fergus step siblings."

"Ouch. That would hurt their chances of marrying. Would the Chantry really…?" He shook his head. "What am I saying, of course the Chantry would deny a dispensation if they ever decide to marry. You're full of rumors."

"Aren't I though," Liam said. "Curse of spending time in the capital. And listening to Taina. She and Daveth love rumors."

"Daveth I can see, but Taina, a gossip." Alistair grinned. "This has been enlightening."

"Any more gossip to share?" Anders asked. "It's almost like being back at Kinloch Hold. Have Anora and Fergus done the deed? Is she pregnant? That will convince the Landsmeet to approve the wedding. Fergus needs an heir. Let's see, what else? Oh…have you seen Cullen?"

"What!"

"He's Knight-Captain in the Gallows," Anders said.

"Cullen Rutherford? Cullen from Kinloch Hold?"

"The same," Alistair said, joining in. "I've managed to avoid him so far, not being a mage, although I am careful not to smite in front of any templars."

Liam started laughing. "That's a good one too. Can't say I've tried to visit the Gallows, given its reputation. Anders, have you seen him?"

Alistair laughed and answered before Anders could. "Briefly, and made sure he flashed his warden badges, armor and everything else he had…well maybe not everything."

"Definitely not everything," Anders snapped. "Not that you were there, but that's how I know about our templar friend."

Liam snorted and shook his head. "You've been corrupted by Zevran and Anders, Alistair. You're not even the palest shade of pink."

"Guess the Archdemon cured me of blushing, too." Smirking, Alistair continued. "Anders, you didn't tell Liam about Cullen before this?"

"No." Liam frowned at the mage, "but you knew I planned on avoiding the Gallows, so I'll over look it."

"How long will you stay?" Alistair asked.

"Already been here four days, Alistair. I expected Anders back from this Expedition weeks ago."

"Yeah, we got held up with injuries."

"So, Anders said. Deepstalkers. Nasty creatures. The woman, Hawke, she's recovered?"

"Yeah. Good thing we had you along, Anders."

"I'm off tomorrow on the morning tide," Liam said. "Back to Highever and on to the Peak." Liam stood. "Shall we join your friend Varric downstairs? He invited us to a game of Diamondback."

Alistair laughed. "I should reveal to him that you taught me how to play. I usually beat him. Let's go." He clapped a hand on Liam's shoulder and two embraced again. "It's been good to see you."

9:32 Dragon, Harvestmere === Kirkwall

"Let's go," Jowan said, irritated at Anders deliberate consideration of which potions he might need. "We can't let these mages wait so near the tunnel's entrance. The templars may be distracted by the Satinalia festivities, but some remain on duty."

"Are you sure this isn't a trap?" Ander's asked again. "Who is the helpful templar?"

"Someone who does not agree with Knight-Commander Meredith's policies," Jowan snapped and led the way to the hidden entrance to the tunnel joining Darktown to the Gallows.

"I just find it unlikely - you trusting a templar." He stared at the back of Jowan's head as they trekked through some muck and puddles in the tunnel. "Or is it Justice trusting the templar?" He watched Jowan's shoulders tense.

"There's little difference between me and Justice," Jowan said through clenched teeth.

"That's not comforting. Old Wynne had a pet spirit of Faith and managed it, but they did not become one and Wynne, as annoying as she could be, had more talent and experience than you, Jowan."

"I am not in the Fade," Justice intoned. "You have described this other mage before. Her spirit resided in the Fade and provided power from there. Jowan and I can only be together, as one, here in this world."

Anders knew Jowan's eyes had turned a piercing blue when his voice deepened and Justice took over. He even seemed to loom larger and glow when Justice came to the forefront. He could see icy blue streaks on Jowan's neck, beneath his long, lank hair. It frightened him. Jowan, at his best, had never been the most stable of mages or the most self-aware. More lazy than untalented, he refused to practice and complained about his instructors when his spells failed. He blamed his shortcomings on others, and he manipulated his friends to get what he wanted, until that no longer worked. Reina had been his only remaining friend and she had paid dearly for that when he had used blood magic to take her along as he escaped the Ferelden Circle. Liam knew Jowan's fear of Tranquility had been valid, but not because he lacked talent. He learned, from Liam as he prepared to join Jowan in Kirkwall, that Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving suspected him of using blood magic and feared he would eventually harm others. After destroying his phylactery, he had proven them right, although no one had seen him use blood magic since. Now a spirit had joined with him and between the two, Anders feared a new being would emerge. A spirit…or a demon…a demon of Vengeance in the guise of a mage, who might turn to blood magic again.

"You two seem inseparable."

"We are," Justice declared. "Even the Warden-Commander had no suggestions for dividing us and returning me to the Fade."

"I don't want Justice sent back to the Fade," Jowan snapped, as Justice subsided, and the glow faded. "Liam thinks he's so brilliant, but he can't make either of us do what we chose not to."

"If you've combined with Justice, then you need a new name," Anders said. Waving his hands, in imitation of a Chantry mother completing a ritual, he intoned, "I name thee, Jowstice."

Jowan stopped and turned around. "Jowstice, Warden Mage Jowstice. I like that, Anders." He smirked at Anders' surprised expression. "Not your intent? Too bad. Now let's hurry. We have three mages to free and Sir Trask can only keep them safe for a short time."

9:32 Dragon, Haring === Kirkwall

"Impressive, Hawke. Is it worth it - reclaiming the estate?"

"I don't care that much, Varric, you know that, but Mother - it begins, in a small way, to make up for all she's lost."

"You'll have to get used to servants, entertaining-" Varric jumped back to avoid the punch Rory aimed at his arm. "Now Hawke."

"You sound Mother. I suppose you have a list of suitors too?"

Varric chuckled. "No, I don't deal in suitors, but," He rubbed his chin and eyeballed Hawke, "for a price-" He ducked to avoid another slap. Looking over at the hearth, where Carver's mabari lay warming himself, he changed the subject. "The mabari seems to have settled in, but he's still quiet."

"Yeah, poor Dog. He misses Carver as much as we do. Maybe more."

"Who named him Dog?"

"Carver."

"Your brother must have been quite a character."

Rory's smile did not reach her eyes. "He was. Annoying, but still…my brother. And now he's dead, Bethany's stuck in the Gallows, and Mother blames me. So far Mother's been allowed to visit Bethie each month, but…well, we'll see won't we, how much influence this wealth purchases."

"Where is your mother?"

"Visiting. It's a game, a dance…she calls on Lady Nose-in-the-Air, then Lady Nose returns the call and tells her friends about it, mother is accepted by Lady Nose's friends, and they invite mother to their estates, and the game goes on."

"It really works that way? I mean, I've heard, but I thought humans might be more sensible than dwarves."

"Dwarves do the same?"

"In Orzammar, the nobles do, so all the topside dwarves do, particularly Merchant's Guild wives."

"It is only wives, isn't it?"

"Not many women warriors or fighters in either place, but, somehow, I think the wives spar in their own way."

"But fighting, wearing armor, and sparring all provide me an excuse for not accompanying Mother. Sorry, I need to practice with my shiny, sharp swords so I couldn't dress up. Armor's definitely not acceptable attire."

"And they use sharp words, not pointy blades," Varric laughed. "At least we're off on fewer deadly missions since we got back."

"Bianca's not complaining?"

Varric grinned, "She's not and she thanks you for letting her rest safely in your bedroom while she's here."

"Best I could do, since Mother objects to carrying weapons around the house." She looked around the estate's entry hall. Sandal played at some enchanting, while Bodahn supervised the staff, a task at which he excelled. Even Leandra approved of the staff's work. "This all seems…over the top for the two of us, but I must admit, I enjoy being served tasty food each night. Will you stay for dinner?"

"Tasty? Hmmm. That would be a change." He looked down at his tunic, wide open from the chest up. "Am I presentable enough for Leandra?"

"She likes the chest hair, Varric. She just won't admit it." Rory laughed. "If we're lucky she'll have some matrons, a few husbands, and their undoubtedly unacceptable sons join us."

Varric snorted. "Matchmaking. What is it about matchmaking that intrigues so many mothers?"

"Not just mothers Varric, some fathers have approached Mother with betrothal offers, with an eye to my fortune."

x==========x

Bodahn announced each guest upon their arrival and pointed them toward the receiving room next to the entry hall. Widows, married couples, and, as Rory had predicted, eligible sons mingled and drank wine and ale.

"No good whiskey, Hawke?" Varric muttered, standing on the balcony overlooking the dozen or so guests in the room below.

"Not with this crowd. You'll have to wait until they leave."

"Even if I stay up here?" Varric whined.

As she said no, quite emphatically, she saw a single man enter the room below with her mother on his arm.

"Is that-"

"-Cullen," Hawke confirmed. "And not here to deliver bad news, if my mother's expression is any indication." Looking smug, Leandra let Cullen lead her to the center of the room near the hearth. She searched the faces around her and then looked up and frowned.

"You're about to be summoned," Varric said

"What's Cullen doing here?"

"You do know templars can marry. I seem to recall Aveline being married to one?"

"No. Mother can't be-"

"-he's a Knight-Captain, Hawke. As eligible as anyone else here."

Sighing, Rory grabbed Varric's sleeve and pulled him toward the stairs.

Cullen's eyes widened slightly as she approached. Her, short dark tousled hair did not lend itself to the elaborate braided coiffures worn by her mother's friends, but her simple, moss green undertunic and deep gold surcoat, belted loosely at her slim waist enhanced a trim figure and brought out the green of her eyes. He bowed as she approached and greeted her, nodding to Varric who had hung back.

"Cullen, you met my daughter, Rory, under difficult conditions," Leandra said. "I'm sure you'll find each other better company tonight." She turned back to Rory. "I met Cullen as I left the Gallows the other day and invited him to this dinner. He should meet Kirkwall's better class in his position as Knight-Commander Meredith's second." She smiled at Cullen. "Would you see to the introductions, dear?"

Varric had to turn away to hide his laughter, knowing how Hawke must be struggling to contain her reaction.

"Of course, Mother, but I don't know everyone here."

Leandra frowned. "I went over the guest list with you."

"Names not faces, Mother."

"Come, Cullen, I will introduce you. And you converse with the guests you do know, Rory."

Varric came to stand beside her as Leandra walked away, still clinging to Cullen's arm. "I'll bet he's no happier than you, but he's used to placating Meredith, so your Mother's no challenge, except he has to settle for ale and you don't." He handed her a glass filled with Starkhaven's best whiskey.

"Where did you - did Bodahn-"

"-now, now Hawke. I never reveal my sources."

Snorting, Hawke sipped the nectar, feeling it burn as it went down and warm her belly. "It does fill the need, Varric."

Before they finished sipping, Bodahn entered to announce dinner. Entering the hall, where two long tables paralleled each other, at right angles to the head table. Hawke apologized to Varric, saying she would have to join her mother along with whomever Leandra had selected as her escort for the rest of the night. Making her way forward, she saw Cullen joining her mother at the high table. Behind her she heard Varric laugh.

"Serah Hawke," Cullen said, standing at the chair between her own and her mothers. On Leandra's other side a couple whose name Rory had forgotten joined her mother. "It seems I'm your partner for the meal."

"So, it does." She looked up at Cullen and smiled, adding softly, "I could have done worse." Seeing her mother nod, she sat down.

"So, I'm the lesser of the evils here?" Cullen said, lips pressing together.

Rory's lip quirked up on one side. "Mother doesn't know we've met on other occasions. She has no idea I may find your company tolerable."

He recalled the fight against the possessed templar recruit and the later rescue of the other endangered templar recruit, Keran, as he took his seat. She had spoken on behalf of the boy, a templar, despite her obvious support of more relaxed treatment of mages. He frowned. What am I thinking, more relaxed? She grew up with apostates for a father and a sister. I can't deny her father trained Bethany well, but then he was Circle trained. Her preference would likely be mage self-governance, seeing how well her father succeeded. Sighing he realized Leandra also did not know he regularly met with Hawke, to give her news of Bethany, at the Hanged Man in Varric's flat, or at the another, somewhat run down, Hightown estate near the Chantry, belonging to some other friend of Hawke's. So far, the news had always been good. He clung to a, probably false, hope that it would remain that way. Then again, while Bethany was not overtly political, she had a way about her that smoothed ruffled feathers and calmed tempers of mages and templars alike. His lips quirked as he wondered, again, if she used an undetectable spell to make herself fade into the background after she quieted an argument or to fend off unwanted attention. Perhaps something her father had devised.

As for this dinner, Meredith had approved his attendance. Such social occasions, Meredith informed him when he demurred, placated the Kirkwall nobility and he, despite his dislike of such things, presented himself and the templar order better than any other officer. And than Meredith, herself, let's be honest. She would find it impossible to remain civil.He glanced at his dinner partner. Perhaps it would be less of a chore than usual this evening. He caught Rory glancing back at him and smiled.

"Well, at least your frown's gone. Are you trying to decide on acceptable and unacceptable topics for conversation?" Rory asked.

"Ask about Bethany, if you like," he said quietly. I'll answer, as I always do."

"No, we've spoken recently, and Mother's just seen her. Unless you know something new-" A slight furrow appeared on her brow as she spoke.

"No. No excitement of any kind these last few days. A nice respite."

"Well then, you know about our background. What about you? You're Ferelden too. Where's your home?"

A/N: Thanks to my wonderful betas Kira Tamarion and Elyssa Cousland, whose efforts make this a better story. Any errors are mine. Appreciate all who favorited, followed, and gave kudos. I hope you continue to read and enjoy.