The softest chirping of a bird roused her, and she shifted as her consciousness came to, realizing she was not laying where she usually woke up from.

I seem to be making a habit of not sleeping in my own bed.

She opened her eyes and rested on her couch for a moment, turning her head and looking down to the floor below when she remembered she had guests.

Hawke slept peacefully on her floor, his shaggy black bangs growing longer past his eyebrows and into his eyes, his tunic stained with mead and only the Gods know what else from last night. She smiled and suppressed a chuckle from how he clung to her pillow in his sleep, the sight of such a large and powerful man holding on dearly to whatever object is closest when he falls asleep a common occurrence for this leader.

Quite a bit better than the glass pitchers you drunkenly find to snuggle with in the Hanged Man, Hawke.

Lyra blinked, remembering their mostly coherent conversation last night before they had passed out.

Aedan.

She sighed when the familiar pounding started a rhythm in her head from her hangover, and she thought for a moment before hesitantly raising a hand to her forehead. It was early, so it took her a minute to think about summoning her mana, the magic energy reluctant to swirl within her from how terrible her body felt. We drank a shit ton last night. And danced a lot, and ate a lot. The healing magic was slow but her hand flickered yellow, the energy seeping into her head and wiping away her headache like any injury.

Yes… She closed her eyes and smiled to herself, making a mental reminder to offer the same courtesy to the other three in her apartment who would inevitably have terrible headaches as well. I really forgot how helpful magic is in everyday life. But with the thought of her magic always came the wave of shame and guilt like cold metal in her stomach. I don't know if I should offer to heal Fenris. I think I've pushed my luck far enough.

Lyra shook her head and willed herself to rise, focusing instead on her guests that would eventually wake and wanting to be a good hostess. She stood from the couch slowly, carefully stepping around Hawke still sleeping next to her, and strode silently the few meters to her kitchen.

Her hands beelined for a glass to fill with water without her thinking of it. Why don't I ever drink water when we party?

The softest sound from her bedroom made her ear prick, and she quickly got more glasses down from her cupboard.

She looked over her shoulder and froze slightly from the sight of a sleepy Fenris stumbling out of her bedroom, a hand shielding his eyes from the light. The sight triggered a recent memory of another morning she shared with him, vastly different from the one now.

His bed head is as consistent and hilarious as ever.

"Water?" she asked him in a whisper, and he lowered his hand to squint at her in pain. His tunic was lopsided and stained, his hair a mess, and he rubbed the back of his neck from an ache. His greens peered at her with the recent coolness in his gaze.

"Yes, thank you," he croaked, also in a whisper after glancing past her to see the sleeping Hawke. She handed him a glass and he drank it just like she had; desperately. He glanced around her apartment as she watched him hesitantly. It pains me to be so formal; professional, with him. But I am incredibly lucky, he wishes to even speak with me.

"Varric and I, I got carried away with the gambling, and the drinking…" he started, looking up to meet her eyes briefly, regretfully. "I owe you an apology, needing… needing to be looked after, last night. I shouldn't have burdened you."

Lyra shook her head, giving him a small reassuring smile. "No, it is no problem. All of us have had those nights, me included. Hawke helped me make sure you and Varric were alright."

He nodded and looked away, rubbing his forehead before spying his sword by the door. "I'll have to thank Hawke later, then. Thank you, again." He bowed his head and made to leave, and Lyra's brows came together as she examined him; his shoulders slumped in exhaustion, his eyes narrowed in pain, his feet were slightly dragging and his face was pale from the effort. He is not physically prepared to enter the sunlight and trek up to Hightown.

"Won't you stay for breakfast?" she asked him quickly, and he paused to glance at her in confusion. She hurriedly continued. "I have almost a dozen eggs, and some meat I can slice into bacon; enough to offer all four of us something to eat." she wrung her hands and gestured to their sleeping leader. "Will you travel to Hightown with Hawke, once I've been a proper friend and given you breakfast?"

He met her eyes and she watched the greens think over her words. He looked over at Hawke once again, and he sighed slightly, meeting her eyes once again to nod to her.

"I would really appreciate breakfast," he said quietly, turning to face her and a small bit of warmth entering his gaze. "I've nothing to eat at home, I lost all my coin last night to gambling, and I'm weak enough to be easily mugged along the way." he gestured, meeting her eyes and hesitantly letting the smallest half smile slip. "I also believe Hawke would no doubt complain to me later for not waiting for him."

Lyra smiled as well and suppressed a chuckle. "A mother hen does like to make a fuss," she joked softly, looking over affectionately at their leader and friend. "I worry, however; I do believe he has laid claim to my couch cushion in his arms."

Fenris let out a surprised snort, and she glanced at him with a quiet smile, sharing his chuckle in the muffled and peaceful morning stillness, the birds chirping softly outside. She turned and refilled their glasses with water, knowing to start a day of recovery with as much water as possible.

She reached up into her cupboard and took down a frying pan and spatula, and Fenris spoke softly from behind her.

"Allow me to help."

She nodded to him in thanks as she reached for the eggs and meat, and glanced to him thoughtfully, thankful and content to be able to simply cook next to him again.

O

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Hawke stirred awake, aware first of the hard floor below him. I've grown soft; used to my mansion bed. He then became aware of the smell of cooking breakfast, the scent warm and fresh and invigorating enough to make him raise his eyelids.

Bacon, he thought fervently, and eggs?! The ceiling above him was unfamiliar but his mind quickly registered it to be the humble alienage abode of his companion Lyra. He blinked his heavy eyes. She's Lanyra, now, to me.

He released the couch cushion he was hugging to his chest slowly, shifting slightly before raising his head. Pain shot through his skull the second the light from the window shone in his eyes, and he grunted, resting his head back on the ground.

"Does he stir?" he heard Lyra asked quietly, and he blinked his eyes open and raised his head and hand, waving to her in the kitchen. His eyes widened slightly from the sight of white hair and tattoos next to her, standing at the counter.

"Mornin'," Hawke croaked, and her blue greens smiled at him from under her brown tree tattoos and messy red hair. He smiled back and nodded to Fenris when the grumpy elf looked up from the eggs he was frying.

Lyra put down the plate she was holding, her brows coming together from the horrible sound that had been his voice. She brought a glass of water over to him as he sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and then his forehead.

"Water?" she asked as she knelt down at his side, and he smiled at her appreciatively, taking the glass from her. Oh, bless.

"Are you Andraste herself?" he reached out and squeezed her shoulder, and she chuckled and shook her head at him. "I feel like I've lived a month in the deserts in Orlais." he drank from the glass like it was the last glass of water in the world.

Lyra noticed how he rubbed his forehead again. "Headache? Would you like me to heal that?"

Hawke blinked up at her, the simple movement causing stabs of pain into his brain, and felt overwhelmingly thankful from the mere thought that the pain from the hangover could be healed.

"Could you?!" he exclaimed, louder than he should have, and he winced from his own voice. She nodded and grinned, and slid her cool fingers under his bangs, resting her palm lightly on his forehead. He looked back and forth between her eyes as she concentrated, and a feeling like cool water rushing through hot stones simmered through his head, the healing energy soothing away the throbbing ache and leaving him feeling cleansed and clear.

"Lanyra, thank you," he breathed in relief, and Lyra chuckled bashfully from his earnesty, waving away his thanks. She stood and took his empty glass from him, meeting his eyes and pausing from seeing his nonverbal question. Fenris? She glanced over to elf, frying eggs at her stove, and her eyes flew back to meet his meaningfully, shrugging her shoulders with a lost and cautious smile. He discerned her message; I'm not sure where we are, but I'm glad he's here.

He nodded and accepted her hand reaching down to help him up, making his way slowly off the floor.

"Crick in your back from sleeping on the floor?" she asked him with a smile, one wicked eyebrow up. He beamed at her, eyes twinkling in mischief.

"Yeah, it sure would have been nice to sleep on a couch-"

"Agh!" she pushed him, making him stumble, and he laughed brightly as she glared at him. They made their way to the kitchen, Fenris glancing up from the eggs to raise an eyebrow at them.

"You're both too loud," he complained, squinting before turning his focus back to the cooking. Hawke leaned against the counter, and Lyra walked past them to her bedroom.

"I'm going to check on Varric," she murmured, and Hawke watched her slip into her bedroom silently. He stepped to the counter next to Fenris, and reached for a knife to slice up the meat. He glanced over to the grumpy elf.

"It's nice to see you doing such civilian, mundane tasks sometimes, Fenris," he said lightly, to which he felt a suspicious glare before he grinned cheekily down to his companion.

"What are you on about now, Hawke," Fenris grumbled as Hawke shrugged aloofly and began slicing the meat.

"I must say I've seen more hearts being ripped out of chests, than I've seen eggs being cracked, by your hand, if you can believe that," Hawke rambled happily and Fenris rolled his eyes with a tch.

"Much more out of you and you'll see a heart ripped out of a chest," Fenris grumbled and Hawke snickered, though when he glanced down at the elf his frown had lessened considerably. Hawke reached over and threw a couple slices of meat onto the frying pan and Fenris began tending to them with the spatula. Hawke's tone sobered and he asked an honest question.

"I was surprised last night; you and Varric, of all people, are the two of my friends who knows their alcohol limits better than anyone. Should I be worried?"

Fenris stayed silent for a moment as he flipped the bacon, the sizzling sounds and the smell sending their stomachs grumbling. "You don't need to worry about me, Hawke. You know the last month's been a bit rough; I'm just working through some things." he pushed the cooking bacon to one side to make room for Hawke to throw some more slices in. "Varric's okay too; it's normal for him to try his best to drink himself to death when something remotely good happens." Hawke chuckled in agreement as he held out a plate for Fenris to put the cooked bacon.

"Alright, alright. You know I can't help but worry about you all." They finished cooking up all the meat and Fenris flopped the bacon onto Hawke's plate.

Hawke glanced down to meet wicked green eyes from under white bangs. Fenris raised an eyebrow and suppressed a smile. "You always get your bloomers in a twist, Hawke. I never thought I would find such a doting mother."

Hawke laughed happily and swayed to bump into Fenris merrilly, holding up the plate of bacon and saying in a sing songy voice. "I can't help it, I never thought I would find so many glowing children!"

Lyra and Varric walked into a scene like from one of those old battle paintings; Fenris complaining with a scowl and swatting Hawke with a spatula, with Hawke laughing and shielding himself and a plate of bacon with his arms like it was a precious newborn child.

"Fuck it's too early for this shit," Varric mumbled and leaned against Lyra for support as she led him to the kitchen. Lyra raised her brow at him and smiled down at him patiently.

"It's well past noon, Varric."

Hawke spotted them and perked up, setting the plate of bacon down carefully on the counter before striding towards to meet them with open arms.

"Varric, you're alive!" he engulfed the shorter man in a dramatic hug, making him let out a muffled yell.

"Hawke, sto-, you stink like booze!"

Lyra chuckled as the two struggled, and she moved to help finish preparing the breakfast. Soon she somehow herded them all to settle down around her tiny table, cramped into her small space but none of them mad for it, all with large glasses of water, full plates, and lingering hangovers.

O

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Dozens of eyes drilled into him, from all directions. Hawke suppressed a shiver as he led his companions through the gate to the Qunari compound. He nodded to the gate guard who he had become familiar with after his few visits the past couple years, the battle-ready qunari warrior painted in fierce red patterns like the rest of them.

The four of them were exhausted; they had just spent the entire night running around and fighting in the bowels of the city, and none of them had had any proper rest for the last two days.

Hawke breathed in deeply as the Arishok came into view. The horned leader sat on his bench with full authority, his black eyes rising to meet with Hawke's immediately. Hawke nodded to him in greeting, feeling his companions keep close behind him.

I still can't believe that damned Templar and those fanatics killed the qunari. And the best person the Viscount has to mediate the relationship with the Arishok is me.

"Arishok," Hawke greeted him, looking up the steps in the secluded compound.

"Hawke," the Arishok nodded as well, his voice deep and domineering as always. "Can you explain what happened to my envoy?"

"Yes," Hawke began, regarding the Arishok grimly. "Your men were ambushed and held captive by a rogue Templar and his fanatic following. We came too late, and the Templar killed them in his madness."

The Arishok let out a sigh, and asked him in an even tone. "And the wounds on their bodies?"

Hawke closed his eyes, anger suffusing his expression. "They were tortured, and maimed, before they were murdered. We made short work of the fanatics responsible, and the Viscount has assured me he will take measures to discipline the sympathizers."

The Arishok nodded and sat back, and regarded Hawke calmly. "I understand. I am not surprised."

Hawke blinked and asked him curiously. "You're not angry?"

"No." The Arishok waved his hand, dismissing the city around him. "I expected nothing better from this rot-filled city. The weakness that persists and is permitted here is nothing new to my eyes." he gestured to Hawke. "You are the only one I have encountered here who has shown true strength, which you proved by admitting to what happened to my men. But ultimately none of it matters," he growled, anger building in his eyes. "...because we are stuck in this polluted perversion of a city until we find what was stolen."

He stood from his bench angrily, stalking to the side to glare at the wall. He breathed for a moment, calming himself, and Hawke spoke calmly.

"That's not the understanding of the Viscount. He seems to think your stay here is more temporary, or that you're well on your way recovering what was stolen from you."

"If only it were so," the Arishok clenched his hands into fists, turning his head to regard Hawke. "These years here in this festering waste has been punishing. Tell your Viscount we want away from here as much as he wants it. Your people here live like animals, selfish, greedy, indulgent. Even so, indoctrination was not my purpose here; we were to find the tome, and finally be able to return to Par Vollen."

The Arishok fumed for a moment while Hawke thought, a faint pang in his chest from hearing the honest words. He sighed, and spoke lightly. "That is the sharpest ache; wanting to return to your homeland, but not being able to." he looked up and met the Arishok's gaze squarely.

The large qunari stared at him for a moment, looking him over thoughtfully before he sat back down on his seat, leaning an elbow on an armored knee.

"Tell me, how can you stay here, Hawke. Amongst the filth; the corruption. Why don't you leave this place?" he scowled, but looked up for an answer.

Hawke let a short chuckle out, a corner of his mouth lifting. "Yeah, Kirkwall really is a shithole," he glanced behind him and smiled to his companions; Varric and Anders nodding along begrudgingly, Lyra giving him a soft smile from under her hood. He turned his gaze back to the Arishok, determination creating confidence. "But it's my shithole. It's a place of opportunity, a place of hope for a lot of us refugees fleeing from somewhere that was way worse. And it's a place where I met some of the most incredible people in my life."

The Arishok shook his head slightly, but seemed somewhat satisfied from the answer. "I'll take that answer, from you, Hawke." he sat back slightly, regarding his companions and then nodding to him with a look of dismissal. "Leave me, now. And see to it that your Viscount understands the severity of the situation."

Hawke sobered and bowed slightly, retreating from the steps with his friends, and leaving the tension of the space.

They all took in deep breaths and sighed from relief once they left the gate of the compound, as they always did after dealing with the qunari. Varric ran a hand down his face.

"Shit that's always intense. I need a drink, and then I need to sleep for the rest of the day," Varric angled himself towards the Hanged Man.

Anders rubbed his eyes but stepped next to the dwarf. "Same, Varric. What a night." the two glanced up to Hawke, and he smiled at them tiredly.

"You two have fun; I can't start morning drinking again, I'd never recover from that. Thank you both, always for your work. You deserve a fucking rest."

The two men looked over to the hooded elf standing next to them quietly, used to Lyra joining in on drinking. She raised her hood a bit and gave them smiles. "You two go ahead; I could pass out any minute now. I'll pop in the Hanged Man sooner or later."

They nodded and waved before they headed through Lowtown, and Hawke turned to his companion. She's been off, for the last day, he thought as he noticed her tired eyes, but also the unusual slump in her shoulders. They had been running and fighting straight for the last half day he hadn't had a chance to ask her until now. He asked her gently.

"Are you doing alright, Lanyra? You know, other than the fact that we haven't sat down or eaten in the last full day?"

Her blue greens widened happily, as they have started doing every time he calls her by her full name. He suppressed a smile as hers faded, and she shook her head slightly, seeming to shrink a bit into herself.

"No, I've been, ah…" she fidgeted, suddenly unsure, and Hawke's brows came together as she found words. "I've, well, today is a sort of, hard anniversary for me, and I was wondering, I really don't want to, be alone tonight, and I figured, I still haven't cooked you that dinner I promised so long ago, and, -"

"Hey," Hawke stopped her gently, lightly laying a hand on her shoulder and bending down slightly to meet her eyes from under her hood. Her gaze held a host of complex emotions, and she looked at him worriedly. He shook his head. "No worries. Absolutely come over tonight. We can cook good food, eat good food, get wine drunk! Hell I can paint your nails if you want, or we could tell ghost stories and roast marshmallows in my fireplace, because let me tell you I stole a bag of like fifty or so marshmallows from the capitol kitchens and I can make the darndest perfect golden-brown roasted marsh-"

"Yes, okay," Lyra giggled and lightly pushed his arm to stop his tease, her brightness flashing in her grin. "Yes. Thank you." she nodded to herself, a great deal of weight lifting from her shoulders. "I plan to sleep until late afternoon at least, and make a quick hunting run. I've wanted to cook my favorite rabbit curry for ages, but my kitchen is just too small for what I need to do."

Hawke raised an eyebrow and faked a pout. "Oh I see, you just want me for my kitchen," he sighed dramatically and shook his head aloofly. "Come over and use me for my cookware, no one ever wants me for my expert level marshmallow roasting abiliti-"

"Agh!" Lyra laughed and smacked his arm, and he grinned and shielded himself from her light blows. He chuckled at her as she huffed, and she glared at him with a smile. "I'll see you tonight, then. Be prepared to eat a lot; I intend to go all out for your authentic Dalish cuisine experience."

"Oh, wow. Now I feel like I should dress up or something," Hawke smiled cheekily as she began to walk off towards the alienage, her dark leather quickly blending into the morning shadows of the surrounding buildings. She looked over her shoulder at him, blue greens bright as she held up her middle finger to him, and then kissed it. He caught a second of her smile before she turned forward.

"Thank you, Aedan," her voice was soft as she trailed away, and Hawke just stood there for a moment, smiling.