Bethany could feel gooseflesh rising on her arms. He was back.

She turned from her large workbench, wiping the sweat from her brow as she searched for him. The loose strands of her hair left their place on her forehead, joining her thick, long, black braid down her back. Growing her hair out had been her one impractical decision over the last several years, but she considered it her one luxury. Far too much of her life had been spent trying to hide her appealing features to avoid attention of templars. She searched the crowd of the ailing and homeless refugees that grew in number every day until she found the one she was looking for.

Her brother broke into a grin when he knew she had spotted him, and she darted to him without a second thought. She felt a spring in her step that made her more youthful than she had in quite a while, rather than like the oldest twenty-seven year old in the world, as she often felt. Garrett's laughter filled her ears when she threw her arms around him as he lifted her up off her feet in a tight embrace. Every time they parted ways, she knew there was chance she would never see him again. Every time he once again defied those odds, she counted it as a reason to celebrate.

"And here I thought you would be too busy for your poor, unfortunate brother," Garrett said, setting her down on her feet.

"Oh, Garrett," Bethany said, her voice hinting of false complaint. "I can surely spare the Champion himself a few moments." Her brother gave a sheepish sort of look, and Bethany can feel a small amount of laughter leaving his eyes. Still, Garrett had enough well of humor to still leave him with plenty.

"Feeling less like a champion and more like a vagrant every day," he said, setting his greatsword down on her table. Bethany winced as several bottles scattered to the floor. Garrett mumbled an apology, though he was far too sure of himself to ever be embarrassed at his accident.

"Don't worry. It only took a couple of hours worth of work," she replied, picking up the bottles that managed to survive the fall.

"This place is looking great," he commented, watching the swarm of activity of refugees deep in their hidden ravine. "I never would have thought Orlais would agree with you so much."

"There are many people who need help. With both the war between the mages and templars, and now between the Empress and the Grand-Duke, as always, there are innocents caught in the middle."

"You always have a soft spot for refugees," Garrett commented, examining her painfully organized system of ingredients and potions.

"We were once refugees. It would have been nice to have had a helping hand once in a while. They came few and far between, if they came at all." Hawke nodded, sadly.

"This is the longest you have stayed anywhere since we left Kirkwall. Do you get along well with, what's his name, Fairbanks?"

"He's a good man," she replied. "I admire him very much. He's a bit arrogant, but he works hard to protect these people. They needed a healer down here where no one had to risk going near those damned Freeman, or whoever they are." Her brows came together in irritation. "Why is it that as soon as there is a crisis, there are men that prey on those that are vulnerable? It's so unfair."

"I'm hardly in a place to lecture on the nature of evil, sister. I'm more fit to simply stomp in its head when I see it." Bethany gave a humorless smile.

"I'm sorry, I'm spoiling your visit. Can I get you some tea?" she asked, turning to put water on to boil before he answered. "What is your newest adventure you have planned? Do you think you might stay a while here? I'm not sure if you've seen much of the Dales, but the Emerald Graves are quite beautiful. I haven't been able to examine as much of the ruins as I'd like, with the deserters roaming about."

"Varric wrote to me," Hawke said suddenly. Bethany turned away from the pot she was placing on the fire, eyes lighting up with delight.

"Varric?" she asked excitedly, to which Hawke nodded in confirmation. "What in the world has he been up to? I haven't received a letter from him in months."

"He's been quite busy, from the sound of it. Have you heard of the Inquisition?" Bethany frowned in thought, but shook her head. "I suppose news would be hard to come by, down here. They are a new sort of organization. They seek to restore order after the explosion at the Conclave." Bethany sighed.

"The best of luck to them," she said with little enthusiasm. "Whoever is responsible for the Conclave made sure we will most likely never see peace in our lifetime. Here I thought Anders was the final nail in our coffin, but I was wrong."

"Varric doesn't seem to think so," Hawke replied. "He has fully joined them."

"Varric?" Bethany questioned, eyes growing even wider than usual. Her brother nodded. "How are they trying to restore order, exactly?"

"They have done incredible work stabilizing pockets of Fereldan in the name of Andraste, though the Chantry has highly opposed them. The Hinterlands, like so many regions, have been torn apart by the templars and the mages. The area has become much more secure, aside from a few thugs here and there. The Inquisition has established a lot of help there to help the refugees."

"That sounds so-" she paused, "selfless." Garrett smirked, sitting down on one of her small chairs that was far too small for him and his armor.

"It's a mad world we have nowadays," he said. "But he believes in their cause, and their leader. His name is Maxwell Trevelyan. He was a mage from the Ostwick Circle. He was the sole survivor of the Conclave, and was just named Inquisitor."

"Why do I get the distinct feeling you are trying to sell me an idea, brother dear?" Bethany asked, placing a cup of tea in front of him as she sat to sip hers. Garrett smiled at his sister's usual perception, though the unease in his countenance had not subsided.

"Corypheus attacked them at their base in Haven," he said. She frowned, warming her hands with her small cup.

"But you killed him," she said quietly. "We saw him die."

"Not dead enough," Garrett replied. "Varric said they barely made it out alive. Their Inquisitor stayed behind and buried Haven with a trebuchet and a mountain, and Corypheus fled. Trevelyan appeared half a day later half-frozen, but alive."

"Sounds like someone I know," she said uneasily. Corypheus had been a formidable enemy "Drink your tea. It will help the soreness in your shoulders." Garrett did not even have to wonder how she knew of his mild injury, and he had long since stopped asking. He complied.

"They've relocated to a fortress in the mountains. In spite of everything, they are growing. Varric has asked me to come and speak to this Inquisitor about what I know about Corypheus. The are going after him again. I was wondering if you might want to come along." Bethany smiled.

"The Hawke siblings together again?" she asked.

"I thought it would be nice," he said. "I've missed you. A great deal."

"And I you," she replied, taking a deep breath as she looked around her small, makeshift clinic. "Well, Fairbanks will be upset, but, I've trained a few healers over the past several months. They should be able to hold it down here, while I'm away."

"I know you are doing amazing work here, sister. You always do. But, I think you might really like to see what they are trying to accomplish. I thought instantly of you as I read his letter. To hear Varric actually speak passionately about anything. I don't know. I think it brought a tear to my eye." Bethany rolled her eyes.

"You really must learn to use your jokes sparingly, Garrett. We haven't even left yet, and I'm already remembering what a horrid traveling companion you are."