Rajmael of Clan Lavellan

by Powerslammer

Rajmael is an elf possessed of great pride and an incredible power. Born with a powerful name and a greater destiny, he has lived his whole life by the the Vir Tanadhal. And now he must use his ancient knowledge to stand against forces that threaten his world and everything he loves. Watch as he stands as a Dalish Elf, a Herald and as The Inquisitor. Please, please review.

40. The Untold Chapters: Part II

The Untold Chapters: Part II

9:37 Dragon, Kirkwall. Two Years Ago...

The night in Darktown was no different than the day. The only difference was the night hid the criminals, poor and filth better. Criminals still looked for victims. The desperate still looked for hope only to find nothing. And the filth just kept piling up higher and higher. The dank under-city was rank with the aroma of mixed saltwater from the sea and the stench of sewage and filth that came from the sewers. Almost every newcomer who came to this anus of the city puked from inhaling the air for the first time.

No one up top cared about the squalor and desperation that existed in Darktown. They were too busy worrying about their precious city and the issues between the mages and Templars to care about the people who were always suffering beneath their feet. What's a few more starving families when a mage or Templar wants to have it out with each other? Those Chantry Mothers loved to stroll around the city like they were the Maker's gift to the world, asking for alms and reminding people to give their tithes to the Chantry, but none would ever step foot here. The rich stayed rich, and the poor stayed in Darktown.

Fear was a constant presence in the under-city. There was always something to be afraid of. The thugs that'll kill you just for your shoes, the many disease-carrying vermin that littered this place. Even the Templars that were supposed be protecting this damned city. But tonight, there was one man whose fears were enough to drown out any fear that anyone else may have in this city. And if anyone else knew what scared him so, they too would be running for their lives out of this city.

His ear drums were ringing from the adrenaline rush. Lungs felt like they were going to burst, and his heart was pounding so hard he thought it would explode inside his chest. He was so exhausted from thirst, hunger and fatigue. But he couldn't stop now, he had to keep running. Had to get away. They were after him.

He could practically feel them looking for him. There were countless places to get lost down here, maybe he could lose them here in Darktown where it was dark and narrow, and the stench would cover his scent. He had to get away, had to warn someone. He had to get to the Champion, warn him. He had to make sure this evil did not harm anymore of their people.

He could still here them behind him. Their nails scrapping the ground, their wretched breathing as they sniffed the air looking for them. His heart almost gave out, he hadn't lost them. He could hear them getting closer. Maker help him, he had to keep going. Maybe he could lose him in these narrow corridors.

No! No, no, no...It was a dead end! Maker, why? Why did he abandon him to this?!

"Sean..." The voices hissed like angry serpents in the dank air.

Sean sobbed in anguish, his blood turned into ice at hearing those Maker-forsaken monster say his name. He cried like a child who was afraid of the dark because he knew what was there. He looked back and saw the shadows of men hidden in the darkness. Sean didn't need to see them to know who they were, he could practically smell the malice on them. And standing amongst them was the figure of a soulless bastard whose heart was blacker than any pit in this city. Sweet Andraste, how he wished there were darkspawn here instead, because darkspawn would only kill him.

"Come, Stefan. We still need of you to..." The soulless bastard hissed at him.

"No! I will never betray my country!" Sean yelled back, hoping that the Maker would save him. He was not a brave man, but he was not going just let them take him. "You'll have to kill me first!"

Sean looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, and found only an empty beer bottle on the ground. Good enough. Sean snatched it up and shattered it's body, making it as sharp as a knife. With a prayer in his heart and the broken bottle clenched in his fist, Sean charged down his attackers.

The soulless bastard smashed the broken bottle to pieces with a sharp backhanded swing, and grabbed Sean by his neck before smashing him into the wall. Sean's body went limp, and the last thing he thought before his mind went completely black was his wife and children. He wished he had done more for them.

The soulless bastard spat on Sean's unconscious body. It would be so easy to kill this scum, but it was against his orders.

"Take this filth back to the kennels, with the others. And make sure no more of them escape this time." The man ordered is underlings. "Everything must be perfect; she won't tolerate failures, and neither will I." The man looked at his recaptured victim with utter disgust on his face. "Filthy Fereldan..."

~XoXoXo~

Hawke woke up in his gigantic bed in the Amell estate. And, as was usual for him, he wasn't alone in it. He found himself wedged between Merrill and Isabela's sleeping bodies, their arms wrapped tightly around his chest. Last night, the three of them had an intense evening of unrequited passion that went on long into the night and early morning. It started off with Isabela teaching Merrill about taking a shot glass and doing something called 'body shots', and it escalated from there. Merrill was a very, very, gifted student, and it was a lesson all three of them would remember forever.

Isabela was resting her head on Hawke's shoulder, her luscious lips curled into a satisfied smile. Hawke couldn't help but admire Isabela. Not just for her beauty, though that really did help. He had never met anyone as free spirited as her. She refused to let anyone else define her or drag her down. Isabela wanted to be as free as the wind, to travel, indulge, and live how ever she wanted. But her carefree nature made her hate responsibility and accountability, which made her seem selfish at times. After she came back with the Tome of Koslun, just after she abandoned them, Hawke and Merrill did not see her for a long time. Then one night she came back. Isabela confessed that she didn't leave because she didn't care, but because she was ashamed. She brought the Qunari to Kirkwall, made them want to destroy the city, then she abandoned them when they actually needed her. Isabela felt unworthy thought she didn't deserve Merrill's friendship or Hawke's affection.

Instead of turning her away, like she was expecting, Merrill and Hawke welcomed Isabela back into their lives. Isabela didn't give herself enough credit, didn't see the good inside her own heart. Isabela freed a ship full of Fereldan refugees meant who were tricked into being sold into slavery when they were fleeing the Blight. An act that made her the target of a notorious Antivan slaver. She came back with the Qunari relic even though she would have succeeded in fleeing. All was forgiven, and all three of the spent quite a lot of time to make up for lost time.

In the time sense then, Isabela had finally gotten her ship. Swindled it from that slaver bastard, Castillon, who had been hunting her. A pirate queen without a vessel is like a sword with no edge. But instead of weighing anchor and sailing off into the sunset, she stayed in Kirkwall. She had grown fond of the city, and the people in it. And nowhere else did she find more love and acceptance than in Hawke's manor.

Merrill's head was resting over his heart, her breathing was so soft. Hawke gently traced his hand along her facial tattoos. He always found her vallaslin to be so exotic, adding to her already slender beauty. Hawke always thought elves were beautiful, and respected them as people. Hawke always new elves were treated poorly, but he never knew how badly they were mistreated in other parts of the world. But the Dalish were different. They were a free people, made their own way in a world that rejected and despised them. Despite their diaspora, the Dalish never surrendered their pride or indomitable spirit. And Merrill possessed more of that spirit than most would suspect. She refused to give up on her goal of reviving even a shred of her people's past, despite the fact it made her a pariah amongst her own people she was trying to help.

Merrill's innocence and adorability instantly drew Hawke to her. Like Isabela, Merril was more than her beauty. She was sweet, eager and unwaveringly loyal with a strength most could not dream of possessing. She and Hawke could spend hours just talking and never get tired of each other. Of course, then they would find something much more fun to do with each other, and Merrill was always happy to take lessons from Isabela. In the years since they began their relationship, Merrill had become much more sexually assertive. While she was still shy and awkward out in public, she was anything but that in the bedroom.

Hawke planted a soft kiss on both his lady lovers, and gently untangled himself from between them. As much as he would love to spend the day in bed with them, sadly, he had other things to do. After eating a small breakfast prepared by Bodahn, Hawke went to go train.

Over the years, Hawke had converted part of the extensive wine cellar beneath his manor into a very impressive training hall with the best equipment. Weights, dummies, training weapons. Everything he needed to keep his edge. Hawke had no special powers to match the many freaks, monsters and mages he fought, despite what Varric's outlandish tales might say. He had some of the best quality armor and weapons enchanted with powerful runes only Sandal could make, but equipment was nothing without training. And thanks to the discipline instilled in him by the Fereldan Royal Army, Hawke had the discipline and will to train every day for two hours with different weapons.

Today it was shield and sword. Normally, he preferred to use the greatsword, the weapon of the Fereldan footsoldier. Perfect for breaking enemy ranks and unhorsing cavalrymen, but not so well-suited for fighting in close quarters like the confined walls and narrow streets of Kirkwall. There wasn't enough room to make a good swing, or he'd end up hitting a wall, a corner, or stall instead of his enemy. With the shield and sword, he could fight more effectively at a closer range and defend himself from the many hiding places and vantage points possible ambushes might happen. Kirkwall kept its inhabitants on their toes, and being prepared was often the deciding factor of who lived or died.

Hawke had been down here for nearly an hour, a sheen of sweat covering his bare torso. He'd been striking the dummies and perfecting the forms without stop, and he felt like he could go longer. Hawke needed to stay sharp.

"My, oh my. I'm surprised you've got any energy left after that intense work out last night. But then, you never did lack for stamina." A familiar, sultry voice spoke. Hawke turned around to see Isabela's curvaceous form leaning against the doorway, wearing nothing but his finery shirt that he discarded last night. The sultry pirate captain was looking at him like a glutton at a feast. "Oh, don't stop on my account. I was enjoying the show, and I like it when you glisten."

Chuckled at Isabela's attempt to make him blush. "There's an old Fereldan saying, 'While you sleep, your enemy trains'. And, as Champion of Kirkwall, I need to keep in shape."

"Oh, I think you're in plenty good shape already." Isabela purred. She walked up to Hawke with that seductive swagger of her, and a hungry glint in her eyes. "You know, Hawke, there are other ways to test your stamina. And they're so much more fun to do."

Isabela traced her hands along Hawke's pecs, enjoying the feeling of his warmth beneath her fingertips.

"Oh, Isabela, you're insatiable." Hawke chuckled. "But isn't it a little unfair that you get to help me with my training and leave Merrill sleeping?"

"Oh, sweet, considerate, giving, Garret..." Isabela whispered huskily in his ear. "...Coming down here wasn't my idea."

While Isabela playfully nibbled on Hawke's ear, he felt two slender, soft arms wrap around his chest from behind him. Hawke turned around and was surprised to see Merrill standing there, wearing nothing but her facial tattoos.

"Good morning, ma vhenan." Merrill greeted between hungry kisses. Last night lust was still carrying on. Sometimes Hawke could barely believe this was the same shy elf he fell in love with. Merrill was very enthusiastic this morning. Her hunger was enough to rival Isabela's. Her desire was so great, she brought Hawke to the ground and stradled his waist, running her hands up and down his muscles. "Hawke, last night Isabela mentioned something called an Antivan Milk Sandwich. It sounded really fun..."

Isabela shed Hawke's shirt and eagerly joined her fellow bedmates. Isabela and Merrill woke up hungry this morning, and they weren't going to stop until their hunger was satisfied. It was a good thing Hawke was in the training room. Being with Merrill and Isabela was the ultimate test of endurance.

~XoXoXo~

"Maker's Breath, Varric!" Cassandra shouted, blushing crimson with embarrassment. "I thought you were going to tell an unknown tale of Hawke's exploits, not recite his...personal life like a cheap smut story!"

"But Seeker, I thought that was your favorite kind of story." Dorian reminded smugly. "And it seems like everyone else is enjoying it."

It was true. Everyone, even their most reserved members like Blackwall, Cullen and even Leliana was breathing heavy, and eager to hear more.

"Yeah, don't stop now. Keep going." Iron Bull urged.

"Please?" Sera almost pleaded.

"What's an Antivan Milk Sandwich?" Cole asked, looking like he was about to have a nosebleed.

"Oh, it is such a tawdry thing. It started off as a trend amongst the houses of ill-repute in Antiva City, but quickly became popular amongst the nobility." Josephine answered with a deep blush on her cheeks.

Leliana quirked an eyebrow at how quickly her friend answered that question. "Um...how do you know what that is exactly, Josie?"

Josephine's blush intensified and started squirming in her seat. "Well...I'm allowed to have life too, aren't I?"

"Ahem. Maybe we should get back to the point?" Rajmael suggested. "Varric, most of us are aware of Hawke's reputation of bedding almost every woman he meets. But we aren't aware of this story. Could you get back to that perhaps."

"Oh, fine." Varric sighed. "I mostly just said all that to see Cassandra's reaction. Now where was I? Oh, right. Later, after a very satisfying work out with Merrill and Isabela, who should show up to Hawke's door, but Guard-Captain Aveline. But more importantly, this is where I came in..."

Back in Kirkwall...

Aveline strode the streets of Kirkwall like there was fire on her heels as she made her way to the Amell Estate. There was no time for pleasantries with the nobility or even greetings with her guardsman. The Guard-Captain was especially up tight right now, more so than usual. There was some urgent news she needed to bring to Hawke's attention. Hawke practically considered her to be family, which was good because she had not intention of knocking on his door and waiting for Bodahn to invite her in.

Aveline entered Hawke's manor and was surprised to see Varric standing in the waiting in room.

"Varric, what are you doing here?" The Guard-Captain inquired.

"The same reason you are, I assume." Varric answered. "The instant I heard this news, I knew I had to be there, just to see what kind of wreck this would turn into. It'll make for some great writing material."

"This is no laughing matter, dwarf." Aveline groaned. "It's a delicate situation that can go very wrong very easily. Worse than what happened with the Qunari, even. Now, where is Hawke? I need to speak with him."

"Bodahn said he's down in his training room, but I wouldn't recommend going down there right now..."

"I don't have time for your recommendations, Varric. I need to see him now." Varric's warning fell on deaf ears and Aveline walked down to the cellar where Hawke made his training room, with no idea what she was walking into.

"3...2...1..." Varric's countdown to tragedy was right on the money.

"Aiighhh!" Aveline's scream echoed throughout the manor and possibly the neighborhood. If she had just listened to Varric's warning, she might have known that Hawke, Merrill and Isabela were still hard at work with some very intense "endurance training" right now.

About twenty minutes everyone was now standing in the waiting room, fully dressed. Isabela on the other hand, was only mostly dressed. Varric couldn't stop snickering, that look on everyone's face when they came up stairs was just too priceless. Aveline, Merrill and Hawke all had looks of mortified embarrassment on their face, while Isabela was laughing at Aveline with her eyes.

"You know, Aveline, if you wanted to join in with us, you just needed to ask first." Isabela teased.

"Maker's breath, I'm married!" Aveline shouted outraged.

"So was I, once. Never stopped me from having fun." Isabela scoffed.

"Oh, shut up, whore." Aveline groaned.

"Perhaps you'd care to explain why you so rudely interrupted our...physical activity, Aveline?" Hawke suggested, hoping to move past this awkward moment.

Aveline couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You mean you haven't heard? What have you been doing lately?"

"Sleeping with me and Isabela every night?" Merrill answered innocently.

"That's my girl!" Isabela chirped proudly.

"Oh, please, Merrill, I can handle that kind of bullshit from Isabela, but not from you too." Aveline pleaded.

"Well, you did ask a simple question, and Daisy gave you an honest answer." Varric chuckled.

Aveline groaned in frustration then turned her attention back to the subject at hand. "Hawke, a huge foreign delegation is arriving in Kirkwall. I need you there in the Viscount's Keep when they arrive."

"Aveline, you know I hate attending such things." Hawke sighed. "The delegates that come here are always such pricks."

"Hawke, this isn't just some foreign dignitary from Orlais or Nevarra. It's the king of Ferelden." Aveline interrupted, finally revealing the importance of her request.

That stunned Hawke right where he stood. "You mean...King Alistair? He's going to be here?"

"Oh, he's an important man, isn't he?" Merrill asked. "I heard he gave the Dalish land to settle on for helping him save his country."

"Yes. I only just received the news myself." Aveline answered. "Apparently the Templars saw fit to withhold this information from me until the King was practically on our doorstep." Aveline spoke with a great of disdain for the Templars. Their constant abuse of their authority and harassing her men had become a major rock in her boots over the past few years. "I guess they believe the Kirkwall Guard isn't important enough to know when foreign delegates are coming to treat with the city."

"But why do you need me there?"

"It's a matter of protocol, Hawke." Aveline answered. "As the most important person in Kirkwall, you are obligated to meet with our most important guests. And besides, I would feel much better knowing you were there to make sure...nothing happened."

"What do you mean? Are you expecting trouble?"

"It's Knight-Commander Meredith." Aveline sighed. Suddenly, her anxiety made perfect sense. "Apparently, some mages who were lucky enough to escape the Gallows fled to Ferelden seeking asylum. The King gave it to them."

"King or not, anyone whose got the stones to tweak Meredith's nose is my kind of guy." Varric chuckled.

"Wait." Isabela halted. "This is the king who's a former Grey Warden, right? The one who fought with the Hero of Ferelden?"

"Yes. Why?" Aveline asked suspiciously.

A cat like grin spread across Isabela's face. "Oh, no reason. We should definitely meet the King, Hawke. How often do you get to meet foreign heads of state?"

Hawke was wondering why the hell Isabela was smiling like that, but decided to ignore it, for now. "So why do I need to be there, Aveline? If you're there, I'm sure not even Meredith would do anything to offend a visiting king."

"These days, I'm not so certain. And there's more to it than that." Aveline confessed. "Despite what you might think, you are still the most important person in Kirkwall, you should be the one to greet such an important guest. More importantly, you and I are still Fereldans. We both fought at the Battle of Ostagar. I think we owe it to the man who helped save our homeland."

Those words hit Hawke deeply. He didn't like thinking about that terrible day when Loghain betrayed Ferelden by leaving King Cailan and the rest of the army to die. When his family fled Lothering just ahead of the horde, when Carver was killed by that damned ogre. Some times, he still had nightmares about it. He swore on his brother's death that day that he would never again flee from his home.

"You're right, Aveline." Hawke agreed. "As a Fereldan, I owe him my thanks for saving our homeland. And I at least owe it to show him the respect that he deserves as the King of my country."

"Thank you, Hawke." said Aveline.

"Great! I'll get the others. I'm sure they'll want to see how this goes down." Varric declared.

~XoXoXo~

Varric was able to gather up Fenris and Sebastian, but Anders was nowhere to be seen.

"Varric, where's Anders?" Hawke asked, noticing the mage's absence.

"Blondie said he couldn't leave his clinic right now. Lots of sick people need looking after." Varric answered.

"That's too bad. I heard King Alistair was formerly a Grey Warden, and the both of them fought with Aedan Cousland. I figured those two might have some real stories to share."

"Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?" Varric protested.

"I said real stories, not embellished facts." Hawke scoffed.

"Well, that just shows how much you know, Hawke. All the best stories deserve embellishment." Varric explained.

"Let's go see if this king of yours is any different than any other noble we've encountered." Fenris urged groaningly.

"Oh, he's not like any noble I've ever encountered." Isabela assured. "Not in the bedroom anyway."

"Wait, what did you say?" Hawke asked, not quite sure if he heard correctly.

"Nothing." Isabela giggled.

"Let's just go now."

By the time they all entered the Viscount's keep, Meredith was already there, with a large contingency of her Templars accompanying her. Not the best way to greet a foreign dignitary, much less a visiting king. King Alistair was accompanied by a company of his own knights, wearing heavy plate mail armor, and were staring down the Templars like they were being challenged. Next to Alistair was an older man with a hooked nose and red hair speckled with some grey, wearing the clothing that only a Fereldan noble would wear. On the man's tunic was the heraldry of Redcliffe.

"We just ask that you see reason, Knight-Commander." The older Fereldan delegate pleaded.

"Arl Teagan, this is in direct violation of the Chantry's laws!" Meredith balked back. "There is nothing left to discuss!"

"And that's your final word on the subject?" King Alistair asked rhetorically.

"Four mages have escaped to Fereldan and you've stepped in to defend them, as if it was your right!" Meredith said, completely outraged. "What else did you expect me to say?"

"A 'maybe' might've been nice." The foreign king shrugged.

"I do not deal in maybes, only cold, hard facts." Meredith spoke without any respect. "Perhaps next time Ferelden elects a leader, they'll choose one who takes his duty to the Maker more seriously."

"The King of Ferelden owes no explanation to you, nor does he owe fealty to some make-believe god whose never even had the balls to show his face." Growled a viciously angry voice from within the king's rank of soldiers. "Those mages were born as Fereldan citizens first. If you, or the Maker, got a problem with that, then you can both go fuck yourselves."

The entire keep was shocked into silence at those words, even Meredith was left completely stunned. Sebastian was so stunned his mouth was left hanging open. The only thing that broke the silence was Isabela and Varric's incessant snickering. The king groaned into his hand as the man behind those words emerged from the rest of the Fereldan soldiers. He was a tall, imposing figure with a mane of dark hair held in a knot. There was a vicious glint in his eyes while he stared down Meredith, and his face was tattooed in the style of Alamarii war paint. Why did he look so familiar to Hawke. It was as if he had seen him before.

"Who...is this man who dares believe he can blaspheme in the presence of the righteous?" Meredith asked in disgust.

"Ah, yes, how rude of me." Alistair chuckled nervously. "Knight-Commander Meredith, allow me to introduce Aedan Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden."

"That's General Cousland to you, ya shitfaced hag." Aedan said to Meredith with revilement in his thick Fereldan accent.

~XoXoXo~

"WHAT!?" Cassandra and Leliana said in shocked unison.

"You mean to tell me that the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall were actually in the same room together?" Josephine asked in disbelief.

"Man, I would have paid some serious money to see that!" Iron Bull laughed.

"I'm surprised the city is still standing after an encounter like that." Blackwall commented.

"I know of many nobles in the Court who would have given the left hands to have been in that room." said Vivienne.

Cassandra couldn't believe this. An encounter with two of the most legendary figures of this age in the same place? How could she have missed this? "Cullen, you knew about this?"

"Yes." Cullen answered honestly.

"Varric is one thing, but why didn't you ever say anything?" Cassandra asked the former Templar.

Cullen shifted uncomfortably where he stood. "That encounter was...not well received by the Templars. At the time, Meredith had convinced us of the dangers of 'outside influences, who knew nothing of this city, or our duty.' Besides, it's not an encounter I look upon fondly."

"Trust me, Curly's got some legitimate reasons for not bringing this up, Seeker." Varric assured. "And personally, I can't say I blame him."

"Why didn't you ever say anything about this?" Leliana inquired.

"It seemed irrelevant to your investigation, seeing as how Cassandra was only interested in Hawke." Varric answered somewhat evasively. "And besides, you never asked me. Now, if you don't mind, maybe you'd like to let me continue with the story?"

~XoXoXo~

Meredith stood in shock, unable to believe her eyes or ears. This tattooed blasphemer was the Hero of Ferelden? She couldn't believe it. "You're the one who slew the Archdemon?"

"I kill all the enemies of my people. Including Templars, if needs be." Aedan threatened. "Now, you'd better wipe that insolent look off your face, or I'm gonna smack it right off your skull, bitch."

"Aedan...We are here to make relations, not start a war." King Alistair reminded.

The Hero of Ferelden scoffed in disgust. "Just be thankful my king's here, otherwise I'd splatter your sorry ass all over that wall."

At this point, Meredith was almost as red as a boiled lobster. She had enough of this. "How your heathen country ever gave rise to our Lady Redeemer is beyond me. I can only pray that the Maker will have a reckoning with your kingdom soon enough."

Meredith and her men angrily marched out of the keep, the Hero of Ferelden was flipping them off until they were gone. When she was gone, it felt like everyone could finally breath again.

"Well, that was bracing." King Alistair breathed with a sigh of relief.

"Meredith's lack of respect shames this city." Hawke sighed. "I'm sorry you had to put up with her."

"Not as sorry as I am." The king admitted. "I felt much manlier before meeting her. Now, not so much."

"This is the Champion of Kirkwall." Arl Teagan informed.

"Right! I'm Alistair, uh...king of Ferelden. But you knew that already. Heh-heh." Alistair shook Hawke's hand as he mumbled over his words, like he forgot what his job was. "And this is Teagan, my uncle. Sort of."

"I'm actually Teagan. I'm only sort of his uncle." The Arl chuckled.

"And like I said to Meredith, this is Aedan Cousland." Alistar reintroduced. Aedan nodded his head respectfully.

"Yes, I remember you." Hawke stated, the memory finally returned to him. "You and I met at Ostagar on the eve of battle."

"I remember you as well, Sergeant. It would seem that both our fortunes faired better than most after the battle." Aedan greeted. "What happened to your brother?"

"He...he was killed when we were fleeing Lothering. He died defending our mother." Hawke answered sadly.

"I am sorry for your loss then, I know how that feels." Aedan said with respect. "It makes me proud to see one of my fellow countrymen doing so well for themselves."

"Your Majesty, General Cousland, may I say what an honor it is to meet you both?" Aveline knelt before the king in deepest respect.

"You could, but you'd be the first today." Alisatir said sarcastically.

"I was also there at the Battle of Ostagar. What happened there...was a terrible tragedy." Aveline said with sadness in her voice.

"Ah, yes. Yes, it was." Alistair also remembered those days bitterly. "Thankfully, the man responsible for that has paid the price."

"That's for damned sure." Aedan laughed under his breath.

"Why must you speak so profanely of the Maker, General Cousland?" Sebastian asked more appalled than curious.

"Fuck you, that's why." Aedan answered contentiously.

"So you're a king now, hmm?" Isabela chuckled, eyeing the king like he was a fun toy. "Something new to brag about. But you still look so tense."

The king's face became as red as tomato and chuckled nervously at the sight of the infamous pirate queen. "Heh-heh-heh. Isabela? You look...nice."

"Ooh, still so awkwardly charming." Isabela laughed. "How adorable."

Trying to ignore this increasingly awkward moment that Isabela was starting, Hawke and Alistair decided to get back on topic.

"So, er, how can I help you, Your Majesty?" Hawke finally asked.

"Well, I would have preferred to have talked with before being emasculated by Meredith, but I'm not picky." The King said glibly.

"Why would you, the King of Ferelden, want to meet with me?" Hawke asked curiously. "I'm surprised you even know who I am."

"You're joking...right?" The King chuckled. "Everyone and their mothers has heard of you back in Denerim. A Fereldan refugee who did well for himself, became the first Fereldan Champion in the Free Marches, against all odds. Even repelled a Qunari invasion and killed the leader of their army. Riveting stuff, really."

"I wonder how you could have gotten that information." Hawke said sarcastically, looking at Varric.

"Who knows? These things have a tendency of getting out there themselves." Varric chuckled.

"Truth be told, I was hoping your influence could be of some use to me." King Alistair confessed. "Things haven't been going well with Orlais. Without a Viscount here, there's only the Knight-Commander to deal with."

"Do you fear there's going to be another war with Orlais?" Hawke asked deeply concerned.

"I hope not!" King Alistair blurted.

"You're more optimistic than I am, Your Majesty." Teagan admitted.

"Oh, please, just let them try. We'll send those inbreeding cheese-monkeys back across the Frostbacks in buckets." Aedan said with twisted anticipation.

"Sweet Maker, Aedan!" The King groaned. "I know you detest Orlais, but we did just get done with a Blight, remember? We're not exactly at our strongest."

"That's exactly why you keep me around, my King." Aedan reminded.

"Empress Celene is doing her best." The King argued. "Orlais isn't the most stable place right now."

"All the more reason to burn that miserable fucking empire to the ground." Aedan snarled beneath his breath.

"What exactly is going on with Orlais?" Hawke inquired.

"Oh, you know, the usual." King Alistair answered superficially. "Attempted assassinations, failed coups, fancy parties with smelly cheeses. Apparently, some in the empire think it would be a grand to get their lost province back."

"Well we won't let them swoop down on us, will we?" Teagan smiled.

"That's right, swooping is bad." The King confirmed.

"Is that why you were talking with Meredith? Seeking aid from Kirkwall in case war breaks out with Orlais?" Hawke realized.

"Yes." Teagan answered. "Kirkwall is one of the largest trading hubs in the Thedas, and you're direct neighbors with Amaranthine. Having this city's support would be a major boost to any militaristic effort."

"Yes, that is all true. But Meredith blew all that out of the water." Alistair sighed. "Apparently, she doesn't like my policies as king."

"Bitch." The Hero of Ferelden spat.

"You were arguing about the mages. What was going on with that?" Hawke asked.

"Yes, well, apparently I don't feel the same way about mages as the Chantry does." Alistair explained. "So that means we're in disagreement. Then they get nasty and try to hurt my feelings. They're like that."

"Sounds like the Circle has it better off in Ferelden." Hawke observed. "Better than Kirkwall, anyway."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you. Sadly, I don't control the Circle. I can only deal with the mages outside the Circle, of which there are very few." Alistair clarified. "The mages in the Circle answer to the Templars, and the Templars answer to the Chantry."

"But isn't Ferelden your country, and the mages our countrymen?" Hawke said adamantly. "If the Templars are such a problem, then deal with them."

"Oh, thank you so much." Aedan sighed gratefully. "I've been saying that since I was twelve years old."

"Aedan, please. Remember that thing I just said about us not being at our strongest?" Alistair reminded.

"The way things aren't always pretty. Sometimes I we can do is just put up with it." Aveline said wearily.

"I'm sure you'll think of something. No people should live in fear in their own homes." Merrill encouraged sympathetically.

"Don't fool yourselves." Fenris spoke out dourly. "Some things are better left alone. Mages are a danger, no matter what country you're in. Why risk the many for the sake of a few?"

Aedan looked at the strange elf with a vicious glint in his eyes. "I'm sorry, who the fuck are you?"

Fenris looked back at the Fereldan hero unmoved. "I..."

"Actually, I really don't give a shit." Aedan interrupted scornfully. "This is none of your damned business, asswipe. So why don't you go back to the kiddy's table and shut the fuck up. The grown-ups are talking."

Fenris stood there, deeply offended by the Hero of Ferelden's attitude. But he chose to back down. The man was right, this was none of his affair.

"Is there any I can do to aid you?" Hawke asked sincerely.

"I wish there was. But Meredith has made any relations between Kirkwall and Ferelden impossible." Alistair answered. "What you can do is protect Kirkwall. I fear it will take someone like you to keep this city from tearing itself apart."

"You fear something will happen to this city?"

"If you ask me, the worse thing to ever happen to this city just walked out of this building." Alistair shudder. "But, that may be the ex-Templar in me talking."

"You know, many of our countrymen fled here during the Blight." Hawke's informed the king, his mind drifting to all their fellow countrymen living in squalor in Darktown. "It...hasn't been easy for them here."

"I know. And I wish I could have done more for them." Alistair said sadly. "After the Blight and the civil war, there was so much rebuilding to be done. And it hasn't exactly been peaceful since then."

"That's why I am here." The Hero of Ferelden stated as fact.

"And I wish you the best of luck, Aedan." Alistair bade before turning his attention back to Hawke. "Well, I suppose I should be heading back."

"We should." Teagan agreed. "Queen Anora is expecting you to be back in Denerim by week's end."

"Does she need to tug my leash so hard?" Alistair sighed.

"Alas, my king, but that is the best way wives know to keep their husbands in line." Teagan consoled.

"Good luck, Aedan. Try not to cause too much trouble." Alistair bid his lifelong friend goodbye as he left.

"No promises." Aedan chuckled.

The King and Arl both made their leave from the Viscount's Keep, leaving the two legendary figures alone. Varric realized he was standing on a writer's gold mine. Being in the same room with two figures of such epic legend was almost a dream come true. Now how best to tell this tale so other people will believe him?

Aedan turned to the Champion and gave him a respectful bow. "It was an honor to meet you again, Sergeant, but now I must take my leave. Other matters need my attention."

"You're staying in Kirkwall, then?" Hawke asked curiously.

"For a time. There are matters here that I am obligated to address." The Hero answered stoically. "If you wish to see what, then I invite you to meet in front of the Chanter's Board tomorrow morning. I would be deeply honored to have the Champion of Kirkwall there."

"And I would be deeply honored to oblige the Hero of Ferelden." Hawke accommodated.

Aedan's eyes locked on to Isabela, and not in the way she liked. It was either that "I'm accusing you of something" look, or "you and I have unfinished business" look. Either way, a look like that coming from the Hero of Ferelden made Isabela feel more than a little nervous.

"Captain Isabela, I've been led to believe that you were supposed to deliver a cargo ship for a certain Antivan slaver seven years ago. That you were responsible for 'losing' the cargo." Aedan said seriously.

Now, normally, Isabela's natural reaction would be to lie through her teeth, maybe give a wink and a smile, but she had a feeling that if she lied to this guy, he would know. And if he found out she was lying, Isabela knew he'd take exception to that. She was going to have to play it cool. She's talked her way out of bad situations before.

Aveline couldn't help but feel a slight sense of triumph at the Hero of Ferelden asking Isabela of her misdeeds. Years of criminality finally catching up to the sea-faring strumpet. But at the same time, she didn't want Isabela in this position. She might have been a whore and a troublemaker, but she was still a friend, and she didn't want to see her being the object of the Her of Ferelden's ire.

"I might have been in the employ of someone like that, once." Isabela evaded. "At the time I had no idea what cargo I was carrying, and then I made an emergency stop, told my men to enjoy some shore leave while I got inexplicably drunk, and when I recovered from my hangover, the cargo was gone. A cautionary tale of how to be careful where you dock and keep your things."

"What, the cargo, which was secured in the holding of a famous raider's ship, just happened to walk of on its own?" Aedan asked skeptically.

"If you think that's strange, try seeing what goes on in Hanged Man after midnight. You'd be surprised the things that move around there." Isabela answered, putting on her most assuring smile.

"It's true. Some of the things there are worthy of their own place in the Black Emporium." Varric added, trying to help the Rivaini out.

"I see." Aedan's eyes were still locked on Isabela with that accusing look in them, making the Pirate Queen even more nervous. Her heart started pounding erratically when she saw the Her of Ferelden's hand moving towards his hip, where that axe of his was resting.

Aedan's hand moved faster than Isabela could react. She had forgotten that this guy had once swiped her cards in a game of Wicked Grace. But instead of pulling out his axe, like she thought he was going to do, Aedan tossed Isabela a rather large purse of coins. Judging by the weight, it was full to the brim with solid gold sovereigns.

"Oh my." Isabela said in awe, admiring the gold in he hands. "What did I do to earn this big bag of shiny? Or did I have do something for it?"

"Consider it payment for doing my job for me." Aedan answered. "Those slaves you were carrying were the men and women Arl Howe sold to Tevinter, people I was unable to save. I believe services done for my countrymen deserve recompense."

"Hey, for a bag of gold like this, I'll gladly service a boatload of Ferelden's every week." Isabela joked.

"Maybe you could ask Aveline to help you?" Merrill suggested innocently. "She says that it's her duty to serve people every day."

"You know, you're Kitten. I think Aveline could use some...servicing, every day." Isabela snickered.

Varric and Hawke both laughed out loud while Aveline groaned in disgust. Merrill just stood there confused, and wondering what she said that was so funny.

"Before I retire for the day, perhaps there is something you can assist me with." The Hero of Ferelden requested. "I've heard rumors that an old friend of mine was here in Kirkwall. He and I served together back in Amranthine. A mage going by the name of Anders. Would it be possible for you to point me in his direction?"

"If you like, I can take you to him straight away." Hawke offered.

"Excellent. Please, lead the way."

Shortly, in Darktown...

Aedan could scarcely believe his senses at the sight and smell of this underground slum known as Darktown. The Alienage in Denerim was no palace garden, but at least there was some joy and merriment to be found there amongst the elves who called that place home, and it even had fresh air. Here, it was like everyone just cast aside all the unwanted and despised like one big latrine, and tried to forget it was there. This was what his people have had to call home when they fled Ferelden? Crime was the law down here, and murder was more abundant than sunlight. Whole families trying to raise their children in this cesspool of filth and depravity. It took everything Aedan had not to puke at the sight of it all. Perhaps it would have been better if the Qunari just burned this city to the ground.

However, there was at least one ray of sunlight and decency in this bottomless cavern of shit and crime. And it came in the form of a free clinic, devoted to helping the endless ailing and injured that lived in Darktown, ran by a by an altruistic mage who provided relief and healing, without ever giving a thought to coin or payment. It was this man that Hawke had brought Aedan to see.

Anders was working hard at his clinic once more. So many people suffering from the ailment of living in all this filth and darkness. Dysentery, malnourishment, infections, even the most treatable of illnesses could be fatal down here. A woman who had come to see her several times this week was here again. She was not injured, but here for something else.

"Master Anders, have you heard any news of my Sean yet?" The woman begged tearfully.

"I am sorry Ella, but no, I haven't seen your husband." Anders answered sorrowfully.

Ella began sobbing uncontrollably. "He's been missing for nearly a week now. It's not like him to be gone for so long, even if he was looking for work, he would have sent word! What am I going to tell our children?"

"I am sorry, Ella." Anders tried to console the weeping woman. "Listen, I'll bring this matter to the Guard-Captain as soon as I see her. Perhaps she can help find your husband." Anders placed a small pouch of coins in her hands. "Here take this. It's not much, but you should be able to get some food for a few days."

"Bless you, ser." Ella wept. Even in this horrid place, there was still some good to be found.

Anders washed his hands and began preparing more salves and poultices. Poor Ella. She and her husband had been through so much. Like Hawke's family, they fled on a ship from Gwaren to escape the Blight, but sold all their belongings just to get here. With no money or aid, they had no choice but to come to Darktown. Sean was able to find work from time to time, but never anything permanent. Now he was missing, And he wasn't the only one. Lately, Anders had heard about over a dozen people who had gone missing in Darktown. Perhaps this was no coincidence. He'd bring this matter to Aveline soon.

The bell in his doorway rang as someone walked into the clinic.

"Please take a seat. I'll be right with you." Anders called. "Can you tell me what ails you?"

"Oh, nothing much. Someone just kind of stabbed me in the back is all." A voice answered with a thick Fereldan accent.

Anders froze where he stood. That voice, it was so familiar. "What did you say?"

"Anders...!" That same voice growled like a vicious animal.

A deep sense of dread gripped Anders' very soul. His heart began to pound in his chest with fear, and his hand unconsciously reached for his staff.

"You touch that staff, you lose the hand."

Anders slowly turned around, praying to the Maker it wasn't who he knew it was. The day he had dreaded had finally come. Anders was staring Aedan Cousland in the face, those fearsome eyes of his burning red. "Warden-Commander...ugh!"

Before anyone could do anything, Aedan had dashed across the clinic and grabbed Anders by the neck and slammed him into the wall. A wave panic went through all of Anders' friends at the sight of what was happening, and guilt for bringing this down on him.

"What in the Maker's name are you doing!?" Aveline demanded.

"Release him, now!" Hawke shouted.

"Everyone, get back. This is between me and Aedan." Anders wheezed through his attacker's powerful grip. He could feel Justice stirring inside him. The power of that terrible spirit waking up, wanting to fight back against the man who dared to threaten.

"Yeah, that's right, Justice. Wake up! Show me what you can do! I'll rip you right out of Anders' thick skull and send you back to the Fade in pieces!" Aedan dareed sinisterly, seeing the power of the Spirit of Justice waking inside Anders, his own eyes glowing red. But the mage held the spirit back and relented, he wasn't going to destroy his own clinic. Aedan was slightly disappointed. "Seven years I've been looking for your sorry ass, but then you're the expert at escaping powerful Orders, and hid your tracks very well. Imagine my surprise when Nathaniel dropped me a letter telling me you were with the Champion when he was rescued in the Deep Roads."

"Hawke, you can't let him do this. Anders is our friend!" Merrill pleaded.

"Stay back, Kitten. This is how men settle their problems, and this is an issue between Wardens." Isabela warned.

"Maker's breath, Blondie! What'd you do to make the Hero of Ferelden so pissed off at you?" Varric finally asked.

"That's a good question. What did you do to make me so pissed?" Aedan asked rhetorically. "Why don't you tell them, since you're their friend?"

"Warden-Commander, I...grkh!" Anders' former commanding officer tightened his grip around the mage's neck.

"Don't call me that. I am no longer your commander, and you are no longer my comrade. Tell them why!" Aedan demanded furiously, his eyes burning like hot coals inside his skull.

Anders stared back at his former leader, his own eyes filled with pain and anger, but finally averted his gaze. He was too ashamed to answer.

Aedan was ready to administer some pain on the insolent mage, until he felt the tip of the Champion's sword at his back.

"That's enough. Let him go." Hawke demanded calmly.

"Sergeant, I don't want to fight you if I don't have to, and this coward isn't worth your trouble. Put it away, or I'm going to doing something you'll both regret." The Hero of Ferelden warned.

"I didn't bring you to this clinic so you could brutalize Anders in front of me. Whatever he may have done to you, Anders is still my friend, and I look after my friends." Hawke leaned his weight behind his sword and pressed it into the Hero's back to let him now how serious he was.

Varric didn't know if he should be excited or scared shitless. Two legendary figures fighting over the same person. How many women in Thedas would kill to be in Blondies' position right now? But standing in this room with both these two powerful warriors ready to shed some blood, was like being caught between two dragons fighting over a piece of meat, and hoping you didn't end up getting burned.

Realizing he had treaded over the hospitality of another, Aedan was ashamed at his own actions and relented. His eyes returned to their normal blue hue and he released Anders from his grip. The mage grabbed his neck and coughed terribly, but he was fine.

"I gave you my trust, Anders, and you betrayed that." Aedan spoke with scorn in his voice. "I might have understood what you did if you had stayed and explained yourself. Shit, I might have done the same thing if I were you, but just like everything else in your life, you ran like a coward and abandoned your oath! If I executed you right now, I would be within my rights. But unlike you, I am not fool. You're the only one in this shitpile of a city who is actually helping the people down here, and I won't take that from them. Against my better judgment, and for what the service you gave to Amaranthine, I'm going to let you live and no longer pursue you, but know this: you are no longer welcome in Ferelden, and if I ever catch wind of you setting foot in my country again, I will kill you."

Aedan turned about face, and made his way out of the clinic. The murderous aura still lingered about him like a bad odor, and everyone in Darktown who saw him immediately got out of his way.

Everyone, especially Anders, breathed easier when the Hero of Ferelden left the clinic, but Hawke didn't unsheathe his sword until he was sure Aedan was gone. Anders got back up, none the worse for wear, but the look of shock and even shame was glued to his face.

"I had prayed that this day would never come." Anders sighed sadly. "But then, what hope would I have when not even Loghain Mac Tir or the Archdemon stood a chance against Aedan Cousland? Considering what he did to the people he executed back in Amaranthine, I suppose I got off easy."

"What exactly did you do to bring a man like him down on you?" Hawke asked sheathing his sword.

Anders sat down in his chair, a mournful look on his face that threatened to break into tears. "I...betrayed him, just as he said. Not long after I helped Aedan kill the Mother and the Architect in the Dragonbone Wastes, we had gotten a few more recruits who joined the Order. One of them was a Templar named Rolan. Aedan had gone to answer the summons of a dwarven lord named Jerrik Dace about a thaig called Amgarrak, and wasn't there at the time. I had just...merged with Justice, and Rolan and some of the other recruits decided that they 'couldn't have an abomination in the Order', like it was there place to make that decision." Anders placed his face in his hands like trying he was trying to cover his shame. "I don't know what happened. I lost control, and Justice took over. A few moments later, they were dead and I Rolan's severed head in my hands. There was no way anyone would accept my side of the story, and Aedan wasn't there to defend me, I didn't know if he even would. So I fled Ferelden, and did everything I could to cover my tracks."

For years Hawke had wondered why Anders had fled Ferelden, why he was so desperate to make sure the Wardens never found him. Now he understood all too well. He had incurred the wrath of one of the most vengeful men alive, but Hawke couldn't help but think that Anders was not in the wrong.

"But you did nothing wrong." Hawke said sympathetically. "Those men were trying to kill you, and you defended yourself. They had no right!"

"Do you even hear yourself, Hawke? Did you not hear him?!" Fenris asked outrageously. "He willingly made himself an Abomination, then proved their fears right when that thing inside him killed them! What he did was inexcusable!"

"And what's your excuse, Fenris!?" Hawke demanded, glaring at the Tevinter elf. "You told me yourself, you killed the men and women who saved you because Danarius ordered you to. Anders only defended himself."

"Hawke is right." Merrill agreed. "You were only trying to do what you believed, trying to help a friend."

"I don't agree with what you did, Anders." Aveline spoke. "But those Wardens didn't have the right to just execute you. No one has that right."

"I gotta admit, this kinda lowers the Warden's image from my point of view." said Varric disappointedly.

"See, this is why I don't like Orders and rules." Isabela said in her usual sarcastic tone. "Do one teeny-tiny thing they don't like, and they want to throw you in prison or cut off your head."

"None of that changes what I did or why Aedan hates me." Anders sighed. "I abandoned my post, betrayed my oath to defend Amaranthine. He placed his trust in me, even defended me from the Chantry, and slew the Templars who came after me. But the instant things didn't look like they were going my way, I abandoned the Wardens, just like I did the Circle. I spat on Aedan's trust, even after everything he did for me."

Anders sat there, looking as though he might cry. Hawke knew that Anders carried a terrible burden, one that grew heavier and heavier each day. And it had only gotten worse since Meredith took over the city. Hawke couldn't imagine the pain he was in, and still trying so desperately to help his fellow mages and heal the sick and needy.

Hawke placed a sympathetic had on Anders' shoulder. "I think that if Aedan Cousland actually wanted you dead, you'd be dead. You probably know that better than I do, Anders. And while he may be angry with you, I think even he understands the importance of what you're doing here, the lives that you're saving. Lord Cousland seems like a man who knows the importance of saving and protecting lives. And that's something the two of you have in common."

Anders choked back a stifled sob and tried to compose himself. "I'm sorry, Hawke. I must look like a bloody girl right now."

"Yeah, kind of." Varric said trying to lighten the mood.

"Thanks for being here, Hawke. Maker knows your friendship's the only good thing I have."

~XoXoXo~

"That was why Anders left the Wardens?" Cassandra asked disbelievingly. "I thought he simply left for the same reasons he fled the Circle."

"He did leave for the same reasons he left the Circle." Dorian confirmed. "Templars were trying to kill him, even after what he had accomplished, so he left."

"That poor man." Leliana said sympathetically. "He tried so hard to do the right thing, yet all he ever got was more pain."

"It wasn't fair." Josephine's voice was laced with sorrow. "He fought alongside the Hero of Ferelden to defend Amaranthine, and still people wanted to take his life."

"While the man's circumstances were unfortunate, that doesn't change the fact that he brought it upon himself when he willingly became an Abomination." Vivienne reminded coldly. "The Templars were merely carrying out their sworn duty. Even within the Wardens, mages need oversight."

"I'd have jumped ship too." Sera spoke out harshly. "Someone wants to cut my head after I got done savin' 'em, I ain't stickin' around."

"What she said." Iron Bull agreed. "That's like saying it's alright for them to want to kill me because they didn't want a Qunari in the Order."

Cullen shook his head regretfully. "I remember Anders. I used to think we were failing in our duty by letting him walk around as an apostate, that we should have arrested him. I never once gave even gave a thought to the people Anders was helping, who he was healing. Maybe if we had been helping those people, instead of treating mages like criminals, Anders never would have did what he had done."

"I can understand the Hero of Ferelden's anger." Blackwall said solemnly. "You don't just abandon your post after swearing an oath like the Wardens do. Though I suppose, sometimes circumstances make that oaths seem meaningless."

"I'm sorry, are guy going to keep commenting, or are you going to let me tell the story?" Varric asked slightly annoyed.

"Sorry, Varric. Please continue." Rajmael urged.

"Alright. Now where was I? Oh, yes! A little while later..."

A Little While Later...

Hawke and most of his companions, with the exception of Anders, obviously, and Sebastian, made their way over to the front of the Chantry where they heard the Hero of Ferelden was. After what happened yesterday in Anders' clinic, Hawke was reluctant to ever want to meet with Lord Cousland again, but he remembered what Aveline said. As the Champion of Kirkwall, Hawke was obligated to attend to such an important guest, and as a Ferelden, he felt obligated to assist the man who saved their country if needs be. But most of all, Hawke wanted to know why Aedan Cousland of all people had come to Kirkwall in the first place.

From everything he knew about the legendary warrior, Aedan Cousland cared only about Ferelden, and nothing else. And while Hawke would certainly welcome the assistance of Ferelden's greatest war hero against Meredith's madness and the insanity if this city, Hawke knew Aedan was here for his own agenda. Hawke needed to know what that was. The last thing he wanted was another powerful war leader tearing this city apart.

The Hero of Ferelden was standing in front of the Chanter's Board, posting a missive, accompanied by a platoon of knights clad from head to heel in silverite armor. Standing next to the Hero's left was a young lad with brown hair and eyes carrying a green, elven styled sword on his hip. He couldn't have been much older than Carver was when he died. On Aedan's right was a young elven woman around the same age as the boy. She had no tattoos, so she was a City Elf, and had green eyes with lovely blonde hair. Despite wearing armor she was lovely to look at.

"Ooh. Who are those men? They're so shiny!" Merrill asked curiously.

"High quality silverite. Wonder how many Miner and Smith Caste members would have killed for that contract." Varric commented.

"Those are the Knights of the Silver Order out of Amaranthine." Hawke answered. "Every piece of their armor was forged by the smith Master Wade."

"I've heard of them." said Aveline. "They were formed after the Amaranthine Crisis to defend Ferelden's borders and her people. All of them were chosen by King Alistair and trained by Aedan Cousland personally."

"Hmm. If they were all chosen by Alistair, then I bet they all know how to stand at attention." Isabela giggled suggestively, making Aveline groan in disgust.

"So who are these two fine people standing behind you, Hero?" Varric asked curiously. "Fellow ass-kickers in service to the Fereldan Army?"

Aedan looked over to the young man and elven women behind him. "This is Bevin, Arl Teagan's brother-in-law. And this is Amythene from the Denerim Alienage. They are my squires."

"Pleased to meet you, Ser Hawke." Bevin greeted enthusiastically, and eagerly held out his hand. Hawke shook the young man's hand, and Bevin returned the gesture vigorously.

"You're even more...attractive than the stories say you are." Amythene blushed, unable to look at Hawke straight.

"Oh, Hawke, still making young girls blush. You've still got it." Isabela giggled.

"Got what?" Merrill asked innocently.

"I must ask, Lord Cousland, why are you here?" Hawke finally inquired. He's wanted to know that this whole time. "Aside from finding Anders and escorting the king? I highly doubt someone like you would leave the comfort of your own country for a small city-state."

"Please, Sergeant, just call me Aedan." The Fereldan hero requested. "And you're right, I didn't leave our homeland and come to this armpit of the Free Marches just for Anders, or because I wanted to take in the scenery. Like you said in when you met the king, there are many of our countrymen who fled here during the Blight. I have come to bring them home."

"Really, did you volunteer for this duty, Hero?" Varric asked.

"Yes" Aedan answered solemnly. "As the man who ended the Blight, and as one who serves my country, I am duty-bound to make sure those who were effected by the war and the Blight are taken care of. Something this shithole of a city has failed to do."

That caught everyone off guard, but it was a welcomed surprise. So many Fereldan refugees lived in squalor and poverty, trying to scrape a living in the filth of Darktown. Hawke has done what he can, but even his influence can only do so much. To receive any aid from back home was a blessing to the refugees here, but for one of their greatest heroes to come here and give relief? That was like an answer to all their prayers. Still, Hawke found it odd that someone as ruthless as Aedan Cousland would be so charitable, especially after that display in Anders' clinic.

"That's unusually...altruistic of you, Lord Cousland." Hawke said skeptically.

"What? I'm perfectly capable of kindness and compassion. Sometimes." Aedan insisted, but everyone in Hawke's party kept giving him that skeptic look. Aedan looked back to his own comrades to back him up. "Bevin, Amythene, you know I'm perfectly capable of being kind and compassionate, right?"

Both his squires squirmed nervously where they stood and were unable to give their commander a straight answer.

"Well, you are usually very, uh...severe, Ser." Bevin answered nervously.

"And there was that one time, with that man, you threatened to...rip his, er, bits off and choke him with them." Amethyne reminded apprehensively.

"Well, after today, don't let it be said I don't have a sympathetic side." Aedan stated. "I have left what I am doing on several missives all over Kirkwall. If you could attend this gathering, Hawke, I would deeply honored. I am sure there are many in this city who would like to see the Champion stand amongst them."

Aedan and his men made their leave, and Hawke decided to indulge the visiting hero. The missive on the board read...

To All Displaced Son's & Daughters of Ferelden,

Your suffering has been made known to your king back in your native homeland.

If you are tired of living on the scraps and crumbs of the Free Marches, if you're heart yearns to be back in your native soil, then please come to the square down in Lowtown at noon where the Hero of Ferelden waits to greet you.

Your homeland is there, and she is waiting for her children to return.

Now is the time to come home.

How could Hawke not want to attend such an important gathering? He had to go, for in his heart, he too wished to go back to Ferelden. Maker willing, this was the salvation his people were waiting for.

"Sounds like it'll be quite the gathering. And at any good gathering, there are always decent drinks. I think I'll go." said Isabela.

"Most Fereldans still don't have it so good in Kirkwall. Maybe this'll be the break they've been looking for." Varric spoke.

"Oh, that's so nice of him. Everyone should have a chance to go home where they have family and friends." Merrill said with a hint of longing in her voice

"I never would have guessed that someone like Aedan Cousland would have had a charitable side." Aveline commented.

"Perhaps it is as Grand Cleric Elthina said, 'Even the most hardened of souls know the love and kindness of the Maker'." Sebastian responded.

"I'm sure there are many people in this city who would also be pleased to see the Fereldans leave. This city is not kind to outsiders." Fenris reminded.

"Mother would have wanted to see this. It may have not been her native homeland, but she loved Ferelden, and so did Father." Hawke fondly remembered those days of running into the fields to meet his father. When he and Carver would play in the valley pretending to be valiant knights while Bethany read a book with their mother. Those memories now seemed like faded dreams to him now. Now, Hawke was the only member of his family that was still alive and free. He would go to this gathering, if only to honor the memory of his mother, father and brother.

The Next Day...

When Hawke arrived in Lowtown he barely recognized the neighborhood. Streamers were flying from poles, merchants were preparing their stalls with their finest wares instead of the cheap knock-off junk they usually tried to pawn off, even volunteers were out cleaning the streets. And everywhere, hanging from banners of the building, or flying from their own poles, was the Fereldan Flag. Never before, in all the years Hawke had been in Kirkwall, had seen Lowtown so lively. It was like a festival bloomed right in the middle of the city, and everybody was happy to attend.

The entire district was packed with his fellow countrymen, and the event hadn't even started yet. Not since he arrived in Kirkwall with his mother and sister to escape the Blight had Hawke seen so many Fereldans packed in one place in this city. However, this time they were not here as a desperate mob, filled with fear and anxiety. There were no sad, angry faces looking for help. Everyone, man, woman and child, was excited with eager looks on their faces. Even the Marchers who never cared for the Fereldan refugees came out to see this event. All of them, Hawke included, had heard the stories that surrounded the Hero of Ferelden. How he defeated Loghain Mac Tir, ending the civil war, and then ended the Blight by killing the Archdemon in single combat. And now, Aedan Cousland was here, bringing a sense of pride and victory to their displaced people.

Seeing all these faces here, realizing just how many of his fellow countrymen had come here, made Hawke feel a little guilty inside. So many Fereldans fled to the Free Marches here with their families, and nothing else. Most of them had gave up everything they owned to get here, and when they arrived they had to face the constant and harsh prejudices and abuses that the Free Marchers have for outsiders. Hawke was one of the lucky few who had been able to change their fortunes, while the rest of his fellow Fereldans still lived in squalor and poverty. Hawke had raised a charity, Leandra's Hope, named after his mother, while Anders kept his clinic doors open, to try and bring relief to those suffering many in Kirkwall, but it was never enough. Perhaps with the Hero of Ferelden here, their people's fortunes could change for the better.

Hawke so the Hero of Ferelden helping prepare the podium he was going to speak on. Before this whole event started, Hawke decided to talk with him. After all, who could pass up having a conversation with Aedan Cousland?

~XoXoXo~

Aedan was hammering nails into the podium stage, helping his men make the preparations. They didn't have long before this rally was supposed to start, and they needed to get this done quickly. While he was doing that, he caught a strange scent coming his way that made his stomach turn. Smelled like pretentiousness and ignorance. Must have been the Chantry.

Sure enough, he saw an entourage of Chantry members, a few sisters, brothers, couple chanters and a Revered Mother making their way from their precious temple up in Hightown to mingle with the poor masses. Amongst them was an elderly woman in high ranking robes, and by her side was that archer who was with Hawke yesterday. If these Chantry members were anything like the idiots back home, this was not going to be fun. For them, at least.

"Greetings, Hero of Ferelden. It does my heart good to see someone like you in our fair city. I am Grand Cleric Elthina, a pleasure to meet you." The head of the Kirkwall Chantry greeted welcomingly. The Hero of Ferelden merely glanced at her and went turned his attention back to his hammering, like she meant nothing. Elthina's smile melted a little and wondered if she had somehow offended him. Sebastian on the other hand, was offended by Aedan's lack of deference, but Elthina remained polite. "It was a near thing what happened in Ferelden. I am glad the Maker stepped in when He did, no doubt He was with you when you won the battle at Denerim."

Bevin and Amethyne both groaned knowing what the Grand Cleric just invited on herself.

Aedan looked at Grand Cleric Elthina as though she just insulted him. "Fuck the Maker. I never needed His blessing, and I sure as shit didn't see him at the top of Fort Drakon when I slew the Archdemon. Perhaps he was too busy hiding like a fucking coward."

Sebastian looked like he was going to have a heartattack from Aedan's words. Isabel blurted out giggling and Varric stifled back a snicker, while Aveline was stunned. Elthina was also shocked, but remained calm.

"Or perhaps He chose you to be the vessel of His will. Everything that happens is according to His plan." Elthina said gently.

Aedan started chuckling sarcastically and the two young soldiers behind him took several steps back. "His will? Is that what the Blight was? Some grand scheme of His where the lives of my people were merely the pawns? It was the Maker's will that over a million of my countrymen be slaughtered by the darkspawn? It was the Maker's will that my family was slaughtered in our own home? That was His will?" Aedan's eyes burned dangerously at thought of that memory. "If it was, then the Maker is one sick, twisted, evil son of a bitch, and isn't worth my spit."

"I realize that you must have seen many things, and that it must make you angry. I understand." Elthina replied sympathetically.

"No, you really don't, you self-righteous twit." Aedan seethed hatefully. "So let me make my stance on this matter perfectly clear so that there is no confusion: I am a godless wretch, and I piss on the Chantry. And I especially have no patience for you, a leading member of an institution that claims to stand for peace and charity, has failed my people in this city, while and apostate is running a free healing clinic in Darktown. Now, unless you've got some actual business with me, take your empty blessings, and go away. Your pious stupidity is making the air stink worse than it already does."

~XoXoXo~

"Oh, that was most certainly Aedan, alright." Leliana sighed into her hands.

"Shh! Quiet, Leliana." Josephine hushed.

~XoXoXo~

"Your people do deserve better, and I pray you can bring it to them." Elthina said with sincerity, as well as pity. She realized now that this was one soul she could not reach out to. She and her entourage made their leave from Lowtown.

Sebastian stood there in utterly outraged and appalled. Never had he ever heard such blasphemy in his life. How could this man possibly have slain the Archdemon? How dare he speak to Elthina in such a way?

"What...what kind of man are you, that you would speak such profanities to the greatest woman in this city?!" Sebastian demanded angrily.

"The kind of man who has better things to do than watching you cry like a little girl." Aedan replied blithely, resuming his work and not even looking at Sebastian.

Hawke didn't know what to make of the Hero right now. On the one hand, he didn't approve of trying to hurt the feelings of old women. But on the other hand, Hawke had to respect that Aedan was unafraid to speak his mind. Elthina always had been a bit preachy, and it was only a matter of time before she said something that would upset someone who didn't agree with her ideology.

"Champion. I'm glad you could come here." Aedan greeted, all traces of his anger completely gone.

"What you said to the Grand Cleric, did you mean it?" Hawke asked.

"Every word of it. I don't make myself out to be a liar." Aedan answered flatly.

"And what you said about Anders to Elthina?"

Aedan grunted through his nostrils at that name. "I do not apologize for what I said and did yesterday. But even I can see he's the only one in that foul-smelling pit who actually gives a damn. He may have betrayed me, but he's still more useful than that Chantry bitch, anyway."

"How dare you speak of the Grand Cleric that way!" Sebastian said completely outraged.

"Sebastian, there are many in the world who hate the Chantry." Hawke reminded. "Getting angry with someone who doesn't share your reverence for it isn't worth the headache."

Sebastian gave Aedan a dirty look, but finally relented.

"I must confess, I've never seen Lowtown like this before. It's like you've brought some kind of new life to it. Even I was never able to do this." Hawke admitted, very impressed.

"Don't try to read too far into this, Sergeant." Aedan disreagarded. "Our countrymen are happy because now they know our country hasn't forgotten them. These merchants are only happy because they'd like me and my men to buy their crap. And I imagine some people are here simply because they want to see all us dog-lords leave."

"It's still a noble thing you're doing, Lord Cousland." Hawke complimented. "I've met far too many nobles who care only for their own self-interests, prejudices, and petty schemes. Not enough of them realize that nobility is supposed to be found in action not in rank."

"If you want, you could come back with us." Aedan suggested as he got back to work. "If you can afford a place in Hightown, then I'm sure you could afford to land and build a manor in the bannorn, and given your accomplishments here, and killing the Arishok in single combat, I'm more than sure King Alistair would welcome you in court as a knight. You would be welcome back in Ferelden. Give it some thought."

That Hero's suggestion rang like a bell in Hawke's head. Go back to Ferelden? Hawke spent so much time cleaning up this city's many messes, that he never actually considered it. He could go back and reclaim everything his family lost in the Blight with the fortune he's made. And then be a knighted lord in the king's court? It would be reclaiming everything his mother and father dreamed of when they left Kirkwall. Hawke was getting so tired of dealing with unending problems of this city, maybe if he went back to Ferelden, he could finally have some peace.

But before he would give this any more thought, and even though it was still early in the day, Hawke decided to go over to the Hanged Man and share a drink with Varric. With so much positive energy in the air, it made Hawke want to let go for a couple of hours. Maker knows there hasn't been a day like this for Fereldans in this city.

~XoXoXo~

When Hawke got to Lowtown's favorite tavern, it was packed with people here to drink happy instead of drown their woes in whatever poison was poured into their mugs. And sitting at their own table, like they were waiting for him, was Hawke's favorite natives of the Hanged Man.

"Hawke! So glad you could join us!" Varric called their residential Champion. "Rivaini and I were just enjoying some Fereldan Coastland whiskey. Want a little taste of home?"

"I could sure use some Fereldan flavor right now." Isabela winked at Hawke.

"A little early isn't, even for you two?" Hawke asked. Coastland whiskey was some really hard stuff.

"Oh, come on, Hawke, there's a party going on outside! Enjoy yourself." Varric insisted, pouring Hawke a glass.

"You know me, Hawke. I'm always in the mood for a stiff one, and a drink." Isabela said with her trademark lascivious innuendo as she passed the drink to Hawke.

Hawke looked at the glass in his hand and smelled its alluring aroma. It was the good stuff alright, which was a surprise considering the Hanged Man's best usually looked and smelled like watered down piss. This must have been from one of Varric's private stores.

"Seeing as I haven't had a good Fereldan whiskey in ages, I might as well enjoy it. And what better way to enjoy a Fereldan whiskey than by giving a Fereldan toast." Hawke rose from his seat and cleared his throat. "To Ferelden! May her children find peace and her warriors know victory!"

"To Ferelden!" The fellow patron all called, raising their glasses.

"Fuck Ferelden, and all itsh shit-eating dog-lordsh!" Yelled a drunken angry voice.

"There's always someone around to ruin a perfectly good toast." Isabela sighed disappointedly.

Hawke saw the malcontent, a young man with blonde hair and a bottle of hard liquor clenched tightly in his fist. He drunkenly made his way over to the Champion's table, spilling his drink as he went.

"Wh-who do you Fereldan turnipsh think you are, huh?!" The young man slurred lividly. Had to be younger than Bethany. "You come where you're not wanted, shit on everything like you own the plashe, and think jusht 'caushe you got lucky with the Blight ush native-born Marchersh got move ashide for you. Thish ishn't your fuck shity!"

Hawke couldn't tell if this guy's face was red from the bottle he was drinking or how angry he was. His breath reeked to high heaven, and he was standing way too close for Hawke to be comfortable.

"You're drunk, kid. Why don't you go sleep it off somewhere and try dealing whatever issues you have with my countrymen when you're sober." Hawke suggested peacefully, trying to still enjoy his drink. He didn't want to deal with someone else's bull on a day like this.

"Shnubbing me off? Think you're too good to lishen to the likesh of me!? My name ain't kid! Name'sh Randall Ainsworth, and when I talk, you lishen!" The drunk young man ranted. Isabela and Varric both snickered at his funny sounding name, while Hawke just tried to ignore him. "My family'sh been livin' here for generations, and ever since all you Fereldan trash washed up here, being a native born Marcher hash meant nothing! You people leech off our city diminish our pride, then you expect ush to feel shorry for you just because your own stinking country got burned by the darkspawn. The Blight was too good for you fucking turnips!"

"I asked you, now I'm telling you: get away from, or I'm going take more than what little pride you've got." The Champion warned, flashing this Randall a dangerous glare. After what the Blight did to his family, he would not let anyone talk like that to him.

"You're the worsht of them all! It makesh me sick that they made shomeone like you Champion!" Randall shouted angrily. "Everyone knowsh you were collaborating with the fucking Qunari, probably helped them plan to attack Kirkwall. But then you turn around and kill the Arishok, and now we're all supposed to kiss the ground you walk on, while real Kirkwall citizens got nothing!"

"Ignore him, Hawke." Varric suggested. "This guys got more booze than brains swimming in his head."

"Just another drunk trying to act like a big asshole to hide the fact that he's a little prick." Isabela scoffed mockingly.

"But you're gonna see, all o' you are gonna see!" Randall continued furiously, chugging down more of his drink. "You and every Fereldan shit at that rally are gonna get what's coming to you, and there'sh nothing you or that fucking Hero can do about it."

That last drunken sentence that slurred out of his mouth caught all three of their attention.

"What did you just say?" Hawke demanded.

"Yeah, that'sh right. All you Fereldan shits are gonna get what'sh coming to you!" Randall's drunken anger was finally turning into drunken glee. "You're all gonna learn thish shity doesn't belong to you. When that rally starts, we're gonna turn it into a bloodbath!"

Randall lifted his bottle of whiskey back to his lips, only to be turned around forcefully and end up kissing the receiving end of the Champion's fist. Randall went out like a light.

Hawke slung the drunk racist over his shoulder and looked over to companions seriously. "Varric, get everyone else over here now, and have Aveline post more in Lowtown. We need to find out if this guy is serious or if it's just the booze and his poor character talking."

Isabela and Varric left quickly to do what they were asked while Hawke went to go secure Randall in Varric's room. Bigotry and xenophobia was a major part of life in the Free Marches, and Kirkwall was especially famous for it. There was not a doubt in Hawke's mind that Randall was probably telling the truth. Hawke needed to learn more.

~XoXoXo~

Not long, Hawke and his companions were gathered in the Hanged Man's back room stores with the Randall passed out and tied down to a chair. They needed to get information out of him, and the proprietor of the tavern knew better than to bother these particular patrons. Without time to waste, Anders pulled out a special concoction he reserved for waking patients up when they passed out from extreme pain. It worked especially well on people who were stone drunk, as Isabela had made use of this potion to cure hangovers.

Aveline and Fenris grabbed Randall's unconscious head and forced his mouth open, while Anders poured the medicine down his throat. Randall's eyes shot open and he started yelling and spitting like he just had raw sewage and molten lead poured down his throat.

"Ha! Works every time." Anders complimented himself, putting the vile back in his traveling kit.

"What was that!? Where am I?! What the fuck's going on?!" Randall demanded furiously and very sober.

"That was to wake you up, you're in the back rooms of the Hanged Man. And right now, you're going to tell us exactly what you were talking about." Hawke answered seriously. "What did you mean when you said that the Fereldan rally was going to turn into a bloodbath?"

"Exactly what I said, you stupid Fereldan mongrel!" Randall laughed spitefully.

"If you don't tell exactly what's going on, I'll have you arrested and tried as an accessory to anything that might happen out there!" Aveline threatened.

"You think I'm scared of some Fereldan ginger?" Randall mocked. "You think just because you strut around in a Kirkwall uniform that that makes you one of us? Fuck you, and your Orlesian name! I'm not afraid to go down for what I believe."

"This belief of yours can only lead you to more pain and destruction." Sebastian reached out.

"Bah! I got nothing to say to some Starkhaven prince." Randall scoffed. "You don't know what it's like for the rest of us who live here in the real world!"

"Whatever you're thinking, whatever problems you might have with my countrymen or anyone else, what you're talking about won't honor Kirkwall." Hawke implored, hoping to reason with the young man. "All it will do is cause more blood and bring even more disgrace to the city you claim to love."

"Please, listen to Hawke." Merrill pleaded. "There's no reason for anyone to get hurt. If whatever you're saying is true, then please, do the right thing."

"Oh, go fuck yourself!" Randall rejected in disgust. He looked at Hawke with utter contempt in his eyes. "Who do you think you are trying to judge me?! You cover for an apostates, undermine the sacred laws of the Chantry, and go whoring with heathen elves and pirate sluts, think you have the right to tell me what right and honor is? It makes me sick that they made someone like you Champion!"

That last sentence stepped on Hawke's last nerve. Insulting him was one thing, but no one, absolutely no one, insults his women to his face and gets away with it. Hawke looked over to Fenris, the look in his eyes spoke loudly. "That's it. I'm done being nice. We'll do this your way, Randall. Fenris?"

"It's about time." Fenris' lyrium tattoos lit with energy, their magic coursing through his veins, and he magically plunged his gauntleted hand in the mouthy bigot's chest. "I'm tempted to just rip your tongue out, but we still need to talk. So tell us what we want to know, and the pain stops."

Randall gasped and groaned in agony, the elf's hand was gripping his heart while it was still inside his chest. The pain was unbearable, but he must endure. After a minute of squirming his hand inside Randall's chest cavity, Fenris stopped and gave him a moment to comply.

"Argh! This...this is nothing!" Randall groaned in pain. "There's nothing you can do. That war mongering filth you all call a Hero is going to get what's coming to him, and there's not a damned thing you can do about it, Champion! And I'd rather die than betray the cause..."

Randall stuck his tongue out between his teeth and bit down hard. His insolent tongue fell to the ground with a wet splat, and everyone gasped and yelled in horror as blood spurted out of Randall's foul mouth. He chocked on his own blood and finally bled to death. Randall's suicide was agony, but he died with a smile on his face.

"Holy shit, that was grisly." Varric said in shock.

"How...how could he just throw his life away like that?" Anders gasped.

"O Holy Maker, please have mercy on this man's misguided soul." Sebastin prayed.

"We wouldn't have hurt him!" Merrill cried, unable to understand why he did that.

"It would seem this city has endless supply of bigots and zealots." Fenris scoffed with disdain.

"Is it odd or disturbing that this is actually one of the least horrible things I've seen in this city?" Isabela asked indifferently.

Aveline looked to Hawke, deeply concerned. "Hawke, if he was willing to die so the he could not tell us anything, then the threat he made is definitely real."

"I know. He kept mentioning a cause, and it sounded like he was working with multiple people." Hawke reasoned. "And if what he said was true, then that means something is going to happen during the rally."

"Then shouldn't we stop the rally?" Merrill asked.

"No. If we do that, and word gets out that someone's going to attack, there'll be massive hysteria." Aveline answered. "Everyone one will panic and try to get out of Lowtown, like a stampede, and many will be injured, or make the attack easier. I don't have enough men to handle a riot like that."

"He mentioned the Hero of Ferelden more than once, said that he was going to get what 's coming to him." Hawke reminded. He took a moment to piece together what information he did get between Randall's drunken ravings and racist rhetoric. And then it hit him. "Someone's going to try and assassinate Aedan Cousland."

That realization shocked everyone like lightning from a mage's staff.

"Assassinate a powerful military leader? Such an act could bring Ferelden's army straight to our doorstep!" Aveline said worriedly.

"They'd be foolish to try." Anders spoke out. "Some of the best assassin's in Thedas have failed to pull that off."

"You willing to bet Kirkwall's safety on that, Blondie?" Varric asked rhetorically.

"Oh, Mythal'enaste, this is aweful!" Merrill lamented. "Shouldn't we warn the Hero, then?"

"I doubt it would do much good." Isabela answered. "I met the man back in Ferelden, and trust me, after traveling this far to bring his people home, he's not going to back down to a few assassins. Besides, even if we did tell him, he'd probably just dare them to try."

"Mages and Templars are already making this city difficult to live in." Sebastian stated. "If the Hero of Ferelden were to be killed here, it would have devastating results."

"We need to stop this now, but we must hurry. The rally is starting." Hawke ordered. He needed to remain calm and stay focused if they were going to even have a chance at stopping this. "Everyone, head out to the rally and look for anything and anyone who might be out of place. Faces we might recognize, someone acting strange, but keep be as discreet as possible. If we start screaming that there's an assassin out there, it could cause a riot, and we might end up doing these assassins' job for them."

"Alright, Hawke. And I'll get someone to take care of the body." Varric affirmed. "No point in leaving him here for some poor idiot to find."

"Bring him to the Chantry." Sebastian requested. "I'll be sure to pray for his misguided soul."

~XoXoXo~

Everyone made their way out of the Hanged Man, and were distraught to see how crowded Lowtown was now. It was filled with an ocean of people, packed tightly within the confines of the districts walls like a can of sardines. Their voices carried and echoed like an unharmonious choir, making it difficult to hear themselves. It was going to be impossible to find this assassin, or multiple assassins.

Anders, Isabela and Fenris waded through the crowd trying to search for anyone who looked like they might be trying to kill the visiting Hero. Aveline coordinated her men around the stage. She was loathed to put her men in direct danger, but there duty was clear. Sebastian and Merrill went to different parts around the crowd hoping to spot any signs of sabotage.

This was hopeless. Noon was fast approaching, and their were no closer to finding this assassin or assassins. Hawke needed a different approach. Hawke remembered an old hunting trick his father taught him when he was young: to find your quarry, try thinking like it, and find what it wants. Hawke looked around and knew it would be impossible for an assassin to make his way through the crowd armed and go unnoticed. Even if he did make it past the crowd, there was no way he could get to Aedan before going through his or Aveline's men first. There was only one place an assassin could make his move: from above. On the roofs, overlooking the crowd all pinched together in a box-pike environment and nothing getting in his line of sights; it's a perfect pspot for a killer to hit his target.

There was no time to lose. Hawke shimmied up a nearby scaffolding and made his way to the roofs overlooking the market. There were no crowds up here, there wasn't a soul up here. Hawke scanned the area, looking for anyone who might be posing a threat. Then he found something. A single man wearing light leather armor, carrying a sword unsheathed. His eyes were fixated on the Hero of Ferelden as he prepared to take the stage. Hawke needed to be calm.

"Enjoying the scenery, serrah?" Hawke called over.

The man looked back over to Hawke, quite startled. Maker, he was young. Couldn't have been older than Carver when he died. Just the same age as Randall. He was too young to even be carrying a sword like this.

"Sweet Andraste! You scared me!" The youth said alarmed.

"Sorry about that. So...you enjoying the view?"

"Uh, yeah, I wanted to catch a good view of the Hero of Ferelden, you know?" The young man answered. "So many people down there, it was impossible to see him. Hey, you're the Champion, right?"

"Yes, I am. Pleasure to meet you. What's your name?" Hawke asked politely.

"Garth." The kid answered.

Hawke needed to keep things calm, so far so good. "Listen, Garth, maybe you want to come down from here. If you really want to meet the Hero of Ferelden, I could introduce you to him. He's an acquaintance of mine."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Heroes and Champions from Ferelden, such a small circle, you guys must know each other." Garth chuckled. "But you know, I kinda like where I'm at right now. I've been waiting a while to see this speech, and I'd hate to lose such a nice spot."

Hawke sighed despondently. "Garth, I'm going to have to insist. You must to get down from here."

"Why? Do I really look like a problem?" Garth asked confused.

"Actually, you look like one of Randall's friends." Hawke answered seriously.

At the sound of that name, Garth's innocent façade washed away like wet paint from a wall. He drew that sword hanging from his hip, and held a very competent sword stance. "You got Randall? Well, I won't be so easy to take down, dog-lord!"

Hawke drew the Key Sword from his hip and held it in a defensive pose. "Garth, think carefully. I don't want to hurt you."

"Yeah? Well, I really, REALLY, want to hurt you!" Garth lunged at with his sword with outstanding form and speed.

~XoXoXo~

Aveline hoped that Hawke or the others had found the assassin, or even what was going on. There was now way she could stall this. All these people here, if a panic were to happen, it would be like a stampede through a straw house. Innocent people would be harmed and this whole district could be demolished. She felt like she might have an anxiety attack right now. Trying to stop crime was her stock in trade, but know that there's a threat coming and being powerless to stop it was almost too much for anyone to bear. Maker, Lord Cousland was about to make his speech.

The crowd went silent with awe and admiration as the famed Hero of Ferelden approached the podium. So many of them never imagined they would have the honor of ever seeing their country's greatest hero in the flesh, and now here he was.

"Sons and daughters of Ferelden, my brothers and sisters. I am honored to stand here before you." Aedan spoke in a voice so clear and strong, it echoed throughout Lowtown. "I know many of you have suffered. During the Blight, many of you lost your homes, your families, everything you cared about. You came to the Free Marches to escape the Blight, only to be trapped here. I know life has been difficult for you here. Many of you couldn't find work, support your families, or even return home. This neglect shames me. King Alistair and I fought the Blight to protect our people, and we could do nothing for you. But that changes now."

A wave of hope swept through the ocean of people and sense of pride filled them at hearing Aedan's words.

"Your king and country has not forgotten you. I have come to give you the chance to finally return home, where we belong." So many gasps and sounds of joy erupted through the crowd at this promise. "It will be difficult, I will not lie. Ferelden is still recovering from the aftereffects of the Fifth Blight and civil war. There is still rebuilding to be done, problems to solve, but if you choose to return home with me, then I promise you, we will do whatever in our power to help you rebuild what you lost. Your lands will be returned, and we will help you find work in the Bannorn and the cities where crops still need to be sewn and our building rebuilt."

Aveline was moved by Aedan's words. She did not realize the extent of his purpose here. Nor did she realize that he or King Alistair cared so much for their people that they would do so much to bring them home. If only more nobles and leaders were like that, the world would be better for it. Aveline felt a slight twinge of nostalgia, a desire to see the land she had called home almost her whole life. But she would not leave. Kirkwall was her home now. She built a life, found a new husband who she loved so much. She found her place here, where so many others did not. Perhaps this would help all the refugees find the life that was taken from them.

The Guard-Captain pushed the emotional thoughts and feelings aside, she needed to remain focused. If there was ever a time an assassin to make his move, it would be now. With Lord Cousland so far into his speech, perhaps Hawke or one of the others had found the perpetrator. Maker, she hoped they did.

~XoXoXo~

Hawke blocked and parried Garth's competent attacks. Obviously, he was not as green as Hawke expected him to be. Someone had been trained Garth to use the sword effectively. Each strike was fast and full of force, trying so hard to stick Hawke and make him bleed out. Hawke was actually impressed, but he had been fighting almost his entire adult life, and faced things far worse than this uppity child. Hawke had far more experience in combat, and knew that there was more to winning a fight than just knowing how to swing your weapon. In Garth's youthful zeal and desire to kill, he had forgotten to pay attention to his surroundings.

Garth lunged at Hawke with full force, seeking to impale the Champion on the end of his sword. All his momentum was going forward, and Garth didn't notice the loose roofing tiles that were lying there, but Hawke did. Hawke deflected the attack and sidestepped to the right and let Garth hurdle passed him. The would-be killer tripped on the loose tiles and fell flat on his back on the lower roof below him. The wind was knocked out of him and he was now seeing stars, but he still tried to reach for his sword.

Hawke stomped his boot on Garth's wrist and felt the bones break under his heel, effectively stopping the kid from reaching his sword. Garth's pained screams were drowned out by the cheering people below as the Hero of Ferelden continued his speech.

"It's over, boy. You're not going to kill Aedan Cousland." Hawke said contemptuously, and held his sword to Garth's neck. "Now tell me: why are you doing this."

Garth laughed forcefully through the pain of having his wrist broken by Hawke. "Randall didn't tell you shit, did he!? You stupid fucking dog-lords, always chasing your fucking tales!"

Hawke applied more pressure to Garth's shattered wrist bones, turning his laughter into painful groans. "Why are you trying to kill Aedan Cousland?"

"Kill him?" Garth gritted through his teeth. "Whoever said I was here to kill him? Didn't you hear me, Champion? I was just up here to get a good view. Of him and all your fellow Fereldan shits getting what they deserve!"

Realization hit Hawke like a blade between his ribs. How could he have been so wrong. He needed to get down there, warn the Hero. But first, he knocked out this mouthy little shit with a solid punch to the face. He prayed to Andraste he wasn't too late. These bigots weren't after Aedan, they were after everyone at the rally!

~XoXoXo~

Anders wasn't sure what was scaring him more at the moment, the fact that he was looking for an assassin who was stupid or crazy enough to try and kill Aedan Cousland, or the fact that Aedan Cousland would probably kill him if he knew Anders was in the crowd. He couldn't think about that right now. He needed to stay focused. Needed to find anything that might indicate an attack, or was even out of place.

Then, just like that, Anders spotted someone totally out of place. Not a killer like he was looking for, but just as disturbing. "Sean? Sean, is that you?"

The missing husband and father was staggering through the crowd like he was hurt, clutching his chest like someone stabbed him there. Anders had to get to him.

"Sean! It's me, Anders, from the clinic. You're wife's been searching for you!" Anders shouted over the throes of all the voices cheering Aedan's speech. He tried to make his way to Sean, but all these people were making it so difficult. He watched from twenty yards away as Sean fell to his knees, crying in agony as he clutched his chest. How hurt was he? "SEAN!"

"Forgive me..." Sean's last words escaped his lips tearfully, and his last thought was of his wife, Ella and their children, before his world erupted into a ball of fire.

~XoXoXo~

Cheers turned into screams, and joy turned into flames while Sean's entire body exploded like a dozen kegs of black powder. People and debris flew everywhere, and everyone around Sean was instantly incinerated where they stood. Anders survived by placing a protective barrier up at the last second. Hawke watched helplessly from the scaffoldings. He tried but he failed. In the end, Randall died getting the last laugh: the rally had turned into a bloodbath, and there was nothing Hawke could do about it.

~Author's Note~

Okay, first thing's first. I know I said in my last chapter that it would take me maybe two weeks to post this chapter, and now here we are almost a month later. Things got super busy for me right after my last chapter, and I had a hard time trying to finish this chapter and do those extensions I promised. So, sorry about that. I haven't released the extended versions yet, but I have every intention of doing so. I will leave a post when I have done that, and which chapters they are.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy my latest chapter. Please review and give me your thoughts.

And to the reader who bumped into my brother at Barnes & Noble two weeks ago, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. It's good to know I've got some fans who are local.

Sincerely,

Powerslammer.