The world was melting in a drowsy rain, untouchable. Hawke remembered getting lost in a storm as a child, when they lived on the coast. The fogs were just like this, and it was no use to try. If only she could sit down to wait for father to find her.

"Marian..."

He only ever called her that if she were in trouble. Else she was his mischievous Mae. She must have done something now, she could scarce open her eyes. She'd have to face the music eventually.

"She will be alright. One of the strongest humans I have ever met," the elderly woman said, and Hawke opened her eyes. The world came into focus. Keeper Marethari patted her hand, "It is good to see you wake."

Anders looked up from where he was sitting nearby as Hawke's head rolled, and his expression softened, "Good - good, how did it go?"

"He'll be alright," Hawke quietly replied, sitting up. She covered her eyes as a wash of dizziness came over her. Looking through the small home, Aveline and Varric diverted their gaze. Through the nausea, the waking dream surfaced. "He's going to Tevinter to master the gift."

"Creators, no," Arianni covered her lips.

Speaking with the elven women for a short while, Hawke soon lead them out into the street.

"You'd think spending the day sleeping I would feel more rested," Hawke murmured, rubbing her eyes as they stood in the Alienage. "It doesn't get more weird than that."

"I need to rest," Aveline said, her words stilted. There was a heavy furrow on her brow. "Tomorrow is a big day."

"Yes, I'm quite sure you both have quite a bit on your minds," Hawke clipped and smiled thinly. "Have a lovely evening." She snagged Anders arm and took to the stairs. "Dear Anders, what about you? To Darktown?"

Anders forced them to walk slower, "Not really. I haven't been able to return for a few days - there have been a lot of templars around."

"Where do you stay if not there?"

"You're not my only friend, you know," he almost smirked.

"Ouch," Hawke laughed. She looked down wearily, "May I come? I'm feel as though I might fade away again."

Anders rolled his eyes, and eventually conceded, "I suppose. Not keen on the new house?"

"Not moved in yet," Hawke murmured. "And I simply do not have the mind to put up with my uncle tonight."

They slipped down a narrow alley, and Anders stopped before a meagre door, knocking in an odd pattern. The door opened, and an older man was there.

"Anders, Penny was beginning to worry. She's gone to bed."

"I apologize," Anders said, pulling Hawke in along with him. "Is it alright if another friend stays here tonight?"

"Any friend of yours is welcome," he said, reaching for Hawke's hand. "I'm Ben, serah."

"Hawke," she replied, smiling weakly. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Well," Ben said, dragging his fingers through his beard, "You're here, I may retire now. There's water in the kettle. In the morning." The man hovered oddly before disappearing into a back room.

Anders blocked the door before taking the kettle and pouring two cups. He stirred in a bit of milk and a few leaves from a tin on the mantle. "They're good people. Their son was taken to the Circle last year... he... he didn't make it."

Hawke furrowed her brow, sitting down, "I'm glad you can find support."

"None greater than you," he said, exhaling as he looked into the dying fire. He sipped the tea before saying, "It is unsteadying being... in the Fade. I scarce know what happened."

"It was just as odd hearing another voice from your lips, I assure you," Hawke said under her breath. "But it wasn't you."

"But it was," Anders replied, looking at her.

Hawke smacked her lips, looking at the cup, "You were very determined."

Anders sat beside her, quietly saying, "I suppose that's never changed. I escaped from the Ferelden Circle seven times, you know."

"I remember hearing something like that," she chuckled, watching him. "My father always said it was a fine line between perseverance and stupidity."

"Seems right," Anders chuckled. "I mean, look where it got me?"

Hawke leant back in the chair, her eyes heavy, "You won't find a better place than next to me."

"Always pushing," Anders sadly said. He closed his eyes, "What do you expect to find?"

"Nevermind that, right now," Hawke waved a hand, her head lolling towards him. "Thank you for sticking by me."

"Well..."

"I meant in the Fade," she said, putting a hand on his. "You're the only on who did. You and Justice."

Anders looked down, "I'm sorry for what happened with Varric and Aveline."

"Well, I killed her husband," Hawke smiled lopsided. "I always expected she held a grudge, but... suppose the confirmation is nice. He was dying from the darkspawn taint, he - he said it was a mercy killing."

"It was," Anders replied. "I've seen what becomes of men left to it."

"So have I," Hawke said, lifting her cup. "Do not forget that I am a deserter from the Ferelden army."

"A toast then," Anders said, raising his in turn. "To deserters of the cause."

"And not giving into temptation," Hawke added, smirking. "No matter how bad it is." They drank their tea, and she looked down into the tin cup, "Sodding... they don't have any liquor, do they?"

Anders watched her a bit too long before shaking his head, grinning, "Nope."

"And here she is for you to soak up as she begins her ascent through Kirkwall!" Varric said, waving a hand at Hawke and drawing hoots from the group gathered.

"Though perhaps sober up a bit before you try the stairs," Aveline replied, drawing light laughter.

"The beauty herself! Refugee risen from the ranks of indentured service, your supercilious smuggler and quick-witted vixen – slayer of the Sundermount dragon, and Fade-walker extraordinaire!"

"Yes, yes, you may all love me," Hawke laughed, unable to slouch back into her chair as he pushed her out amidst their friends. "I accept bribes, worship, and coin strewn at my feet."

"Like you need it," Aveline shook her head, grinning from where she leant against the wall. The Hanged Man's doors were barred and the common room jostled with their closest of friends as wine and whiskey freely flowed. The heady scent of roast meats and Orlesian sweets filled the air. Their goods packed and the new mansion cleaned and renovated, it was one of Hawke's last days as a resident of Lowtown.

"A dance!" Isabela laughed, snagging Hawke's hand and nodding to the minstrels. The fiddle and bombarde sprang to life, soon followed by the lively beat of the bodhran. The pirate moved lithely on her feet, "Do you know this one?"

"Oh," Hawke's eyes glowed as she mirrored the motions and said, "What good Ferelden wouldn't?"

They clapped their hands and spun into the dance, quick steps and smiles mingling with the laughter as others joined in. The minstrels upped the tempo as they danced, heels hit to the wooden floor in a chorus through the room as they swayed and met hands. When the refrain ended, each turned in flourish, and the semi-circle of reclined companions politely clapped, even as the drum swept away into another song.

Hawke smacked Isabela's arse, earning a salacious glance.

"Thank you, pretty thing," the Rivani replied, arching a brow as she swaggered to fetch more drink.

Hawke wove back to where her uncle and mother sat, leaning to accept Leandra's kiss.

"You were always so light on your feet," she said with a grin.

"What? Am I not any longer?" Hawke replied with a false pout. She leant a hip on their table, "Do you have everything you wish?"

"Yes dear," Leandra said, raising a hand to Gamlen, "Thank you for inviting us."

"Varric thought you might enjoy it," she looked down, grinning. "Though so did I. I'll be coming back to drag you to dance."

"I hardly think I could," Leandra shook her head, smiling sadly. "I am glad enough to watch."

"For now, mother," Hawke said, patting her hand and getting up. "We'll have you dancing again soon enough."

Hawke found her way to stand with Anders and two of his fellow apostates, who were separate from the dancing and drinking, "What is this? Come, you can't surely think you'll escape some form of celebration. Would you offend your noble?"

The young mage with him laughed a little, grinning, "I suppose it's hard to relax."

"You have my word, you are amongst friends. No one will harm you or threaten your freedom here. And if they do, let me know so a little pin might prick their oysters," Hawke said, draping an arm on Anders. "And what about you, serah? A look like that, I might begin to think you were spending too much time with Fenris."

"Andraste's knickers, no," Anders chuckled, grinning uncomfortably as he looked at her. "I'm not sure he'd allow me within ten paces.

"Oh I don't know," Hawke said in a breath, glancing to where the elf spoke in a corner with Isabela. "So long as you were impaled upon his blade, perhaps… though perhaps that didn't come out right." The other two mages laughed.

Anders shuddered but grinned, "Don't even go there, please. Maker – that's terrible."

"Ahhh yes," she said, toying with the soft shoulders of his coat. "You would much rather be the one impaling."

Clearing his throat, Anders shifted a bit more out of reach, "Be that as it may… Varric!"

Hawke's hands drifted to her hips as she watched him weave to where the dwarf sat amidst a rapt audience.

"I've never seen a woman unsettle him like that," the young mage said with a smirk. "Are you always so forward?"

"Yes," Hawke grinned devilishly at him. "Now if only he'd let me put him at ease, oh, then things might be grand. Another? Do you like the blue magus?"