Author's Note: Here begins part two. Rather than allow a three-year gap, I am stretching the various events of Act 2 across the three years, adding some stuff of my own. As usual, not strictly canon, lots of liberties. I also plan to go back and make a few tweaks to my first chapters, but I'll let you know when that happens. Nothing major. Anyway, here's the first chapter of Part II, which loosely follows Act 2 of the game. The next chapter is well on its way also, so expect that one pretty soon! As usual, feedback is welcome and reviews are appreciated!

PART II

1st of Firstfall, 9:31 Dragon - First night of Satinalia

I apologize, Journal (and to you as well, Varric). It has been several weeks since I last wrote anything, and even then, my last entries have been rather hasty and dull. Life has been a whirlwind since the return from the Deep Roads – first with Bethany going to the Circle and then working with Mother to reclaim the Amell estate. As I had mentioned previously, things went much more smoothly once we had coin with which to "talk." Within a month, we had the deed to the estate and we were reinstated as nobility in Kirkwall.

Tonight will be the first night we get to spend in the mansion, though. It took some time to repair and restore the house. There is still a lot of work to be done but all the necessities are in place, and my new bed was delivered today! I'm lying on it right now as I write this. I have never experienced anything so comfortable in all my life. It cost a pretty penny but I'd rather spend my coin on this than a bunch of frilly dresses, as Mother keeps insisting. I finally caved and bought two though, just to appease her. They're tucked safely in the back of my new wardrobe, and will hopefully not see the light of day any time soon. Except I just remembered that I promised to wear one to the Satinalia feast at the Keep this week. Drat.

Life without Bethany has been difficult, but we're learning to adjust. She and I write each other at least twice each week, and Mother and I have been allowed to visit, albeit briefly, on three occasions now. I've done my best to butter up the Knight-Captain and stay in his good graces. It seems to work to our advantage, though, as he has become a bit less wary of my requests and less suspicious that I might try to break her out. After a long talk with Fenris one evening soon after Bethany's departure, I finally came to the realization that it was in everyone's best interest that I not try to get her out of the Gallows and go on the lam with my family once again. We are settled here. Bethany is safe. I have come to terms with the situation, though I'm still heartbroken.

Onto a less depressing subject: My friends! I have not seen much of my friends since returning, but I still try to get down to the Hanged Man at least one night a week – Fenris usually joins me. Varric is, of course, always there – in fact, he bought a 50% share in the tavern upon his return, much to his delight. Anders rarely shows up these days. He's been busy at the clinic, but he's also been stewing in his hatred, more than usual, for all things Templar, Chantry, and Circle.

Isabela is usually there, as well, if she's not off doing Maker-knows-what with Maker-knows-who (though I suspect she is actually seeking out her mysterious relic in earnest – it seems a touchy subject so I've stopped inquiring). Since returning, she and have actually grown closer, oddly enough. She has also apparently given up on trying to bed Fenris and has been much friendlier (platonically…) with him as well.

Aveline makes the effort to join us from time-to-time as well, despite how busy she is as Guard Captain now. Oh, and Merrill of course. She comes nearly every night as well – and almost never loses her way now! Even she has been getting along better with Fenris now. The only one who doesn't seem to be is Anders, of course – but the feeling is, as always, mutual.

Ah, Fenris. Where do I even begin…?

Hawke sighed, twirling her quill loosely between her fingers. She was lying on her stomach on the bed with the journal open in front of her and the ink bottle sitting on her bedside table, just within reach. She stared wistfully at the engravings on her headboard as she thought on the past few months with Fenris.

How do I put into words something I don't understand? Hawke thought, frowning in concentration. I don't know what we are, and I'm pretty damn sure Fenris doesn't either. We're friends, of course, but obviously much more than that. Lovers? No. She laughed sardonically. I think that requires a much more…physical level of intimacy. Andraste's flaming ass, we've only kissed twice! And they weren't exactly the kind of heated, passionate kisses that lovers would share. Their first kiss, of course, had been in the Deep Roads after the encounter with the rock wraith. Their second kiss… Hawke picked up her quill, dipped it in the ink well, and began writing furiously, realizing she had missed documenting the event in her neglect of her journal.

How did I miss writing about our second kiss? Well, I wasn't in the mood for journaling that day, or that whole week. It had been the anniversary of father's death. He was walking me home from the Hanged Man, and I'm afraid I was rather tipsy (okay, okay drunk) from the brandy I had been downing to try to numb the pain. I vaguely remember crying a little and going on about how alone I felt. As we reached the front door of Gamlen's house he gently lifted my chin and kissed me – so sweetly. Despite my fuzzy memory overall that evening, I remember that brief moment clear as day. "I will remind you again of my promise, Marian. I'm here if you need me. You are not alone." Those were his words, and I'm afraid I remember little else of what was said after that, but I do remember watching him walk away and feeling much better than I had in days, despite the brandy.

Hawke paused again, listening to the crackling of the fireplace in her room. She wiggled a bit to sink herself further into the soft quilt on the top of her bed. Her fingers idly brushing against her lips as she closed her eyes and tried to recapture that evening. As usual, though, it left her more frustrated than ever. What are we? Her thoughts continued as she began to feel a bit petulant. I could hardly say we were courting. We spend no time with Mother in the evenings, and if we were courting, it would be extremely scandalous for me to spend so many evenings alone with him in his bedchamber. She again laughed out loud, realizing how ironic that was. All the scandal with none of the enjoyment. Despite things growing heated from time to time, as occasionally happened when they were alone together, nothing ever came of it but a lot of flirting and frustration. Well at least on my part, who knows if he suffers as much as I do.

Hawke sighed, kicking her legs up behind her and rubbing her calves together. She enjoyed the feel of her new, soft suede boots that she bought for wearing around the house. They rose up just below her knees and were a dark brown, and immensely comfortable. She had also purchased a robe to wear around the house that was various shades of burgundy. It was fancier than anything she had owned previously, despite being only a casual robe for wearing in the privacy of one's home – modest enough for company but not exactly appropriate for wearing to the tavern in the evenings. Well, it was the fanciest thing I had ever owned until I let mother talk me into those gowns. She grimaced, glancing at the wardrobe. She was absently running her finger on one of the satin ribbons that trimmed the neckline of her robe. It was her first night donning the garment, as she had been saving it and the boots until they moved. She didn't want the stench of Gamlen's hovel permeating her finery.

Hawke glanced down realizing there were two large splatters of ink on the page in front of her. She quickly grabbed a sheet of blotting paper from the bedside table and cleaned up the mess as best as she could before she continued scratching away with the quill.

I suppose I don't know what Fenris and I are, but I also suppose it doesn't really matter. I know we both love each other – though to what extent, I'm still not entirely sure. But it's as strong a love as I've felt for anyone in my family, and much more meaningful than I've felt for any other man – even John. And I know that Fenris and I understand each other. Even though we still argue as much as ever, we seem to be able to clear the air much sooner than we used to, and we always manage to fall back into our old routines, closer friends than ever. And I guess that will all have to be enough for now. Despite my frustrations, I think I'm okay with that. Wherever things are headed between us, I'm sure it will be worth the wait.

But enough about him for now. It's getting to be time to head out to the Chantry square for the Satinalia festivities. Now that we're nobility again, Mother has decided she wants to partake in the festivities – and I'm finally over John and feel that I can enjoy the holiday once again, myself. They apparently really do it up big here in Kirkwall, so I'm eager to see what's in store. Ah, Maker. Speaking of store, I still need to buy my mask for tonight. So, on that note, Journal (and Varric…), I apologize for the neglect as of late, but now that we are settling into our new life finally, I hope to give you all the attention you deserve!

Hawke scrawled the final words quickly and with a flourish. She placed a clean sheet of blotting paper over the page, flipped the cover back over the journal, and tucked it away in the drawer next to her. She carefully locked the drawer with a key that she wore on the chain around her neck – the chain it shared with the ring she'd gotten in from Fenris. It was a silly superstition, she knew, but she gave the key a quick kiss and dropped the chain back under her robe.

Just as she had hopped off the bed, there was a knock at the door.

"Messere?" It was Bodahn's voice. "Lady Leandra wishes to see you in her bedchamber."

Hawke rolled her eyes and muttered to herself, "Maker, mother. You couldn't just come get me yourself?" She spoke up more clearly to respond to the dwarf who was no doubt waiting nervously outside her door, "Thank you, Bodahn. I'll see her momentarily."

One evening, not long after Hawke had returned from the deep roads, Bodahn and Sandal had appeared on Gamlen's doorstep. She had been wary, unsure of how close they were to Bartrand or if they were involved in any of his scheming. Her fears were put to rest, though, as Bodahn shared with her Bartrand's poor treatment of them on the trip back from the thaig, and how he had shorted them on their share of the plunder.

"I won't forget my promise to you," Bodahn had said, as Leandra appeared behind Hawke, listening intently. "You saved Sandal's life, and I can never repay that debt. But I understand you will be moving into your family estate soon and I would like to volunteer Sandal and myself into your service once you do so. I can cook, clean, valet, whatever you need." He continued on and, despite Hawke's initial instance that it was unnecessary, she allowed her mother to talk her into agreeing on the terms that they provide room and board to the two dwarves. Bodahn assured her that they could easily make a living off of Sandal's enchanting, especially without the cost of lodging and meals. They shook hands on it, and Bodahn and Sandal took up residence as soon as the house belonged to the Hawkes again.

It was clear from Bodahn's actions just now that her mother intended to take full advantage of having a personal servant to wait on her, hand and foot. Hawke didn't complain though. She admittedly enjoyed the company of the two, despite their quirkiness. And Sandal, of course, offered to enchant any of her gear, free of charge, if ever she should find useful runes. Well, Bodahn offered on his behalf. All Sandal really said was "Enchantment!" as he clapped his hands gleefully. Hawke smiled to herself as she opened to the door to make the very short trip across the hall to her mother's room.

Hawke rapped softly on the intricately carved hardwood door of her mother's room.

"Yes?" a soft voice replied from inside.

"It's me, Mother." Hawke resisted any teasing. She wanted her mother to enjoy her new status as much as possible – she deserved some happiness for once.

"Oh, Marian! Come in."

Hawke opened the door and immediately cringed as she saw her mother bedecked in an elaborate gown made of silk and lace. It wasn't the gown itself that elicited such a reaction – it was the growing realization of what her mother had called her into her room for.

"Darling, you're not dressed yet!" her mother frowned, eyeing Hawke's robe and boots. "I still need time to do your hair and—"

"Mother," Hawke said in a warning tone, "I am not wearing one of my new gowns tonight. I'll wear dress clothes; don't worry. But we already agreed on a compromise. I will wear one of my new dresses to the feast tomorrow at the Keep, but the rest of the holiday week, I choose my own clothing."

Leandra raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, but took note of her daughter's stern expression.

"Very well," she sighed, conceding. "But I still insist on doing your hair and makeup tomorrow night."

Hawke groaned and dropped her forehead into her hand, "Fine mother." She said, her eyes closed tightly. She finally sighed and looked up at her again, "Is that all you wanted?"

"Yes, darling. Go make yourself ready, then. I plan on heading to the Chantry within the hour."

Hawke nodded quickly and hurried out of the room, closing the door rather too loudly behind her.

Returning to her room, Hawke retrieved a more favorable outfit from her wardrobe. She slipped out of her robe and removed her boots, and then pulled on her snug but sturdy leather pants – perfect for the chilly weather that now hit Kirkwall once the sun set. The deep brown leather was adorned with flat, round obsidian studs that encircled her upper thigh on both legs. She slipped her arms into her tunic, wrapping it across her chest and tying it on the side. She then tucked it carefully into the waist of her pants. The tunic was a brown linen, a few shades lighter than the pants, and fit snugly. The sleeves hugged her arms and were long enough to cover her hands, with a loop of fabric that she hooked onto her middle fingers. The cuffs and neckline, which was a modest 'V' once wrapped, were trimmed in gold satin.

Once the tunic was in place, she donned a leather vest that was also a deep brown, the darkest shade of the ensemble. It, too, was embellished with obsidian studs that matched the ones on her pants – these followed the collar and shoulder seams, as well as the seams running down her sides. The vest was snug overall, except the collar, which was deep and, because of the stiff leather, hung open and slightly away from her body with a very flattering effect, exposing more of the tunic underneath. The length of the vest fell nearly to her mid-thigh with slits on the sides to enable it to better fit her form, and the vest itself remained unfastened. She tugged her sleeves down again to ensure they weren't bunched under the vest at all and turned with her back facing the mirror. She twisted her neck as far as she could to look back at her favorite accent – what seemed to be purposeless embellishment hanging from the back of the neck of her vest was, in fact, a soft brown hood made for improving her stealth abilities. She had requested it specifically, knowing the direction events often took when she was out and about. She smiled grimly to herself.

Satisfied that everything was in place, Hawke sat at the trunk at the end of her bed and pulled on her boots. They matched the leather of the vest and buttoned up, instead of the usual laces, with ornate obsidian hooks. The boots folded down a few inches at the top, revealing her upper calf just below her knee. She wiggled her toes in the boots and then moved to sit at her vanity – a piece of furniture her mother had chosen, but one that Hawke had actually come to appreciate. Running her fingers through her hair, she noticed how long it had become. She still kept trimming it and maintaining some of the layers she enjoyed, but decided to let it grow out a bit. It now fell several inches past her shoulders, so she brushed it back in a loose, low tail, allowing the shorter layers to hang around her face, framing it in a way she rather liked. To keep her mother happy, she used a ribbon of golden velvet to hold her hair in place.

Hawke grabbed the final piece of her outfit – a wide sash made of the same fabric as the tunic – and stood in front of the full-length mirror again. She wrapped it several times around her hips adjusting it to a slightly different angle each time, and the tied it in a tight knot on her left side. The sash held the vest closed from her waist down. She twisted this way and that, admiring her reflection for a few moments. I know Mother will tell me I don't look like a lady, but I don't really care. This suits me, and I much prefer it to her ridiculous Orlesian gowns. Anyway, this is dressy but still practical, in case anything happens – which it inevitably will, one of these days. On that last thought, she grabbed her small knife from her vanity and tucked it into her boot, which had a pocket inside just for that purpose. As she had gone for the knife, she noticed one of her red handkerchiefs on the vanity as well. Hesitating for a second, Hawke decide to grab it and tie it loosely around her neck, tucking it under her vest and letting the triangle shape of the fabric cover the top of the tunic underneath. Quickly snuffing out the candles in the room, Hawke made her way downstairs to meet her mother.

"There you are!" Leandra huffed, tapping her healed shoe against the stone floor of the entryway. "Fashionably late is one thing but-" she stopped speaking and her jaw dropped once the light from the entryway torches fell on Hawke and her rogue-like ensemble.

"Maker's breath, Marian," she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "Why do you insist on dressing like a man?"

"Really, Mother, I don't know many men who would dress quite like this," she glanced down and then smirked, "Anyway if they did, I would hardly think they would have the same, erm…curves as I do." She crudely gestured toward her chest and hips as she wiggled her rear end a bit. Hawke laughed at her mother's shocked expression.

"Honestly!" But Leandra had nothing else to offer and instead spun on her heel, throwing her cloak over her shoulders and grabbing her feathered mask off of the bench next to her. She waited patiently as Bodahn opened the door for her.

"Goodnight, my ladies!" he pronounced a little too grandly as they stepped out under the awning and made their way onto the main thoroughfare. This is already shaping up to be an interesting evening. Hawke thought, amused.