Chapter One: Into Kirkwall

Despite the fact that Marian Hawke had actively lobbied for the job of Kirkwall's Viscount for years she had not anticipated that it would be such a taxing job. She saw only the chance to make Kirkwall a place where her family and friends could be safe. She should have known better, though. She'd spent seven years navigating the muddled world of the aristocracy. The fact that she's so blown away by their idiocy is a sharp reminded that she never expected . . . this.

She nods mindlessly at the latest complaint the Magister is detailing and wishes she could tell him to go shove his concerns; they're petty and irrelevant considering the larger issues. More importantly she is becoming bored. It must show on her face because the Magister speaks with more vehemence now, punctuating his argument with loud words and angry gestures. How can he possibly be so concerned with the state of his gardens in the wake of the mage revolt when there are starving masses just past the stairs of Hightown? With a wave of her hand she curtly tells the Magister that in order for these problems to be solved she needs time and patience. She reminds him that she's only been Viscountess for a month and she is no magician.

The Magister is surely upset and she cares little. The man leaves her office in a huff while behind him Marian's head hits the desk, hard, in exasperation. This day's list of problems is mind-numbingly moronic. She hears the Magister's frustrated yelling about her ineptitude as he quits the outer office and she can't help but release the sigh of irritation that escapes.

She takes a deep breath and reminds herself that she wanted this job badly.

The door to her office is pulled shut and her head snaps up at the sound.

"Sounds like dissent in the ranks."

There is a woman standing in her presence. A stranger, covered almost entirely with a cloak yet obviously dressed in armor. The hood is pulled up and hides most of the woman's features but Marian can see the gold of her hair and can see the intensity of the blue eyes that watch her.

The two stare each other down for a moment before the woman laughs, ruefully, and steps farther into Marian's office. There are blades at the stranger's back, two of them. Marian is instantly on guard and her hand creeps to the single blade she keeps tied to her belt. This visitor has the clear look of an assassin about her and Marian is trying to think of who she's made angry enough to try to kill her.

When she draws back the hood Marian is instantly struck by the scars on the woman's face. They are faint and delicate, old yet still obvious wounds. There is a noble air about her though and Marian changes her original assumption. This woman is no assassin. She loosens her grip on her blade.

"You don't look like my assistant. Mostly because you're a woman. And not a dwarf."

The woman laughs again, a low husky sound that sends shivers down Marian's spine. How did she not notice the hint of darkness in the stranger's voice? The woman moves to the chair opposite the desk and sinks gracefully into the cushion. Her body is relaxed and Marian feels no threat. Yet, something tells her that she would be given a run for her money should the two of them to cross blades.

"I sent word ahead that I would be arriving. I'm your delegate from Ferelden."

Marian leans forward, elbows on the desk. She had, indeed, received a missive not a day before that the Ferelden Crown would be sending someone to discuss the incident with Anders and the Chantry. She'd cursed upon receiving it, hoping that Varric's cunning plot to conceal the whole ordeal would have seen them through the end of next month. Next month, when the dwarf had insisted that the lies he'd been trying to construct about the explosion would have been convincing enough to reveal to the world.

She should have known that this whole fiasco couldn't have been hidden. She examines the woman's face, looking for any distinguishing features. The letter hadn't mentioned who'd be coming. From this distance she can see that there are rings of red around the otherwise flawless blue irises of her guest's eyes; the Taint. She inhales sharply. A Grey Warden then.

A blond, female Grey Warden with the air of nobility.

Sweet Maker.

"You're the bloody Queen!" Marian is panicked for a second. Should she bow? Get down on one knee? Curtsey. Maker she's bad at that. She blinks away the worry on her face when she realizes that the Queen is smiling at her. Smiling! Then it hits her.

So far as Thedas is concerned she's the bloody Queen of Kirkwall. For all intents and purposes. She's amazed she hasn't thought of this before. She takes a calming breath and smiles gracefully. She might be out of her element with all this decorum and stuff but she's faced down everything from blood mages to the Arishok.

She can handle this.

"Sorry about that. I wasn't expecting you, Highness." She leans up and extends a hand. "Viscountess Marian Hawke. Call me Marian. What can I help you with?"

The Queen smiles and rises as well. Their hands meet and the shake is strong. "Queen Elissa Theirin. Call me Elissa." She knows the general purpose of this visit. She's got an exploded Chantry on her hands. Why shouldn't other realms be concerned? There's a good chance, given Elissa's day job, that she might be here about her dead warden as well.

Elissa shifts and adjusts her chest plate. "As my letter indicated, I'm here to investigate but not entirely as royalty." Marian narrows her eyes in confusion. "I'm here about my dead warden. I'm here to find out what happened to him so I can send word back to the Wardens. From what I understand Anders was a friend of yours and I'm hoping you can help me."

There's something about the way Elissa says my dead warden. It sounds a little sad but mostly angry. Angry at what? Marian doesn't have a clue.

"I'm afraid I don't have time to detail all the circumstances surrounding the death of Anders but I've got an official report you can read over if you'd like." This seems like as good an offer as any.

Anders.

The name still strikes pain in her chest when she hears it but the hurt isn't as debilitating as it had been a month ago. She'd been an understandable mess and it'd taken more than one concerned friend dragging her up from despair to get out of her funk for a long time. She's better, but not so much that she doesn't feel like utter shit at the mention his name even now.

She tries not to think about her memories of him; her eyes squeezes shut, hoping to push the thoughts away. She can't help it though. She can still feel his smile against her hair and his declarations of love before everything had gone sideways. Before the betrayal and the lying and the dying. Sometimes she can't tell the difference between her memory of him whispering his concerns after they'd made love and the whispered conviction he'd pushed out before Marian had slid her dagger between his ribs.

"Are you alright?"

She opens her eyes and raises her gaze. There is confusion on the warden's face. And there is concern as well. Marian nods. "Yes. It's only been a month; things are still a little insane here." She opens her top drawer and withdraws a familiar red scroll, her official report. "Here. If you have any questions after you read it I'll be more than happy to answer them. I've arranged for lodgings here in the Keep for you. Roomy but probably not what you're used to."

She doesn't mean for her tone to be dismissive but it is. She can taste the bitter sadness she's gotten adept at ignoring over the past weeks building. The tears will come. She doesn't want the damned Queen of Ferelden here when they do.

As if she knows what's to come, the Queen stands. "I'll speak with your Seneschal then. The grumpy red head outside, correct?"

Marian chuckles; the laugh is a little wet sounding. "Bran. His name is Bran. He'll be able to get you and any staff you brought settled."

"Just me, I'm afraid. I was in a bit of a rush to get here. I'll leave you. Can we meet tomorrow, perhaps? To discuss everything?"

"Yes." She nods absently, thinking about her busy schedule. "Bran will know when will be best." She stands and gives a short bow which Elissa returns. They are both exemplary figures of a roguish sort and Marian thinks she could be easy friends with the Queen. As soon as she can keep her run away emotions in check, that is. "Good day, Elissa."

When the Queen returns her sentiments and turns, Marian collapses back into her chair and covers her face with her hands. No amount of calm breathing can stem the flow of tears but they're not angry tears anymore. Just sad. And tired.

-!-

My Love,

I will imagine that you've discovered I'm out on the road again. Garevel means well but sometimes he tends to meddle. I am in Kirkwall, of all places. I received a note from our friend in the Chantry about the goings on in the Free Marches. After your visit to the city I asked her to keep me informed as well as you. I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing here. I need answers but they're not going to be what I want to hear, I know. But, I need to know.

Anders is dead, my love. Killed after he'd blown the Chantry here to the Maker and beyond.

I met with the Champion of Kirkwall today. I remember how you complimented her after your meeting but I am less impressed. She seems to be over her head in running this city and emotionally unstable. Granted, the streets still burn and it is a mess here; I do not envy her the rebuilding. I've contemplated offering my services as someone who has rebuilt her fair share of cities however I do not know if that would help or hurt. I only know that this insurrection of mages will spread quickly across Thedas. So, I suppose my purpose here is two-fold. I had not intended this to become a diplomatic mission but the more I consider it the more I entertain the idea.

I shall start with the templars. The rebuilding of the Order here has yet to begin. The mages are no longer under their control yet the templars maintain their head quarters. I will pay a visit to this Gallows. From what I understand their new Knight Commander is an old friend to the both of us. Perhaps he can explain where Kirkwall had gone wrong with the mages in order to prevent the same from happening in Ferelden and perhaps the whole of Thedas.

I wish I would have had the thought to stop by Denerim and pick you up. It would have been nice to spend a few nights under the stars with you once more. It is imperative, however, that one of us remain in Ferelden for obvious reasons. I hope you will forgive me for leaving without telling you. I couldn't take the chance that my disappearance from Vigil's Keep would be noticed by the higher ups within the Wardens. It would look poorly in the Anderfels, and Orlais, if I am seen meddling here but I cannot help myself. You know I can never keep myself from a good mystery and I have the feeling that getting to the bottom of the death of Anders will be a good one to unravel. I'm sure you understand. I love you. I miss you. I will be home as soon as this is resolved.

All my love,

E

~!~