A/N: The next two chapters are a bit boring, but I felt they were needed to help give a sense of who Olivia and Hawke are, and what's happened in Thedas at this point. Chapter 4 will be a bit more exciting, I promise!

"Well, what it lacks in charm, the city makes up for in Qunari—Ah! Stop, Olivia, you're just making it—"

With one last twist of her magic, Olivia felt the bone snap back into place. She let the healing spell linger on Alistair's shoulder a moment longer, hoping to drain the last of his discomfort. "You were saying?" she asked smoothly.

"Maker, woman," he grunted under his breath, "your healing spells will be the death of me."

"I'm sorry, Alistair. You're lucky I can do that much." Not sure whether to fuss over him a bit longer or not, Olivia kissed his temple softly and stood. "I need to leave, though. They'll be bringing in the next batch of reports soon." She pulled her thick gauntlets onto her slender hands, biting her lip at the thought of leaving so soon.

"You're leaving me with all the reports?" Alistair asked, his voice muffled as he pulled his shirt back on. "All… bruised up like this?"

Suppressing a giggle, Olivia grabbed her sword and shield from where they rested against the wall."If circumstances were different," she murmured, turning back to him, "I'd stay and heal you. You know that." She let her gloved fingers run lightly over his shoulders and down his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him close.

"Just healing?" Alistair pouted, burying his face in her hair. "And here I was, thinking you had so much more planned."

"I do. I just have to go to Kirkwall, first."

Olivia sighed, wishing she were back in Vigil's Keep, instead of the dirty, crowded tavern. Alistair had just returned from the city when she had left, making for a very short reunion.

Not to mention that blasted shoulder of his, she grimaced. Glaring into the mug in her hands, Olivia forced her mind away from Alistair and the other Grey Wardens. She had come to Kirkwall after Anders had sent a letter, begging her to meet some of her family.

But Hawke had left, and so had Anders. Olivia supposed she'd rent a room for the night and leave first thing tomorrow morning, longing suddenly for Alistair.

"So, explain the armor."

Squinting in confusion, Olivia turned to see Varric walking towards her. She shook her head, not in the mood for stories.

"Alright." He sat opposite Olivia. "I like it better when I tell the stories, too. Have you heard the one where Hawke single-handedly fireballed an ogre to a crisp after it crushed her sister? Or the one where Hawke saved Flemeth, the legendary witch of the wilds? Or how about the one where she held off an entire Qunari invasion – thus saving Kirkwall, and, most importantly, The Hanged Man?"

Peering back into her mostly full mug, Olivia wondered if she had heard incorrectly. Either that, or she was becoming worse than Alistair at holding her ale. "That's impossible," she mumbled.

"Hmm." The dwarf shrugged innocently. "That's usually the response I get when I tell the tale of the Circle mage who rose up to unite Ferelden," he began counting on his fingers, "save the Dalish, prevent the Annulment of the Ferelden Circle, place a king on the throne of Orzammar, save the city of Redcliffe—twice—and find the legendary Urn of Sacred Ashes. And that's before I even get to the part where she kills the Archdemon and stops the Blight."

"Point taken," Olivia surrendered.

"I think you'll like Hawke," Varric offered sincerely. "She's shaken up by the death of her mother, but she's…" He paused. "Well," he chuckled finally, "she's Hawke."

Tracing the top of the mug with the tip of her finger, she asked, "And she's a mage?"

Varric nodded. "A damn good one, too. Just as good of a healer as Blondie, but with less of the moody rebel attitude."

Olivia turned back to her drink, mulling his words over in her mind. "I need to speak with her," she decided suddenly.

The dwarf's eyes widened in alarm. "Not when she took Fenris back to the estate. Why don't you go patch things up with Blondie?" he suggested.

"Anders," Olivia confirmed. When Varric nodded, she found herself full of nervous energy. She missed Anders terribly, and it didn't feel right to leave off on such an uncertain note.

First Anders, then Hawke. Then I'll be done with uncomfortable conversations, and I can go home.

"Anders?" Olivia poked her head into the dusty clinic, her hand hovering above the grimy, half-open door. She pushed it further with a single finger, cringing as it squeaked in protest.

"I'm not taking patients tonight. I'm sorry."

"Anders, it's me." Olivia stepped into the clinic, skirting around a moth-eaten cot to where Anders sat, his head in his hands. "Are you alright?"

"Just… thinking."

Olivia joined Anders on the crate he sat on, staring hard at her bare hands as she tried to think of something to say. "Anders, what happened with the mage?" she asked, referencing his comment about nearly killing a girl.

Raising his head, the mage sighed. "It's nothing, Olivia. I'm sure you have better things to do than worry over me."

"Anders," Olivia prompted, reaching out to place an encouraging hand on his arm. Energy seemed to radiate from him when she touched him; it was familiar, like being trapped in the Fade. Blue light emanated from his body. Her breath catching, Olivia felt her heart begin to race in fear. She pushed it away, focusing on keeping her words clear and quiet. "Justice? Is this you? Are you… doing this to Anders?"

"Yes." The voice was not his own.

The energy in Anders' eyes faltered, and for a moment Olivia caught a glimpse of the mage trying to fight past Justice. "Please," she requested softly, "I need to speak to Anders, Justice."

The light faded completely. Anders pitched forward, gasping for air. "He's unused to kindness," he sputtered between breaths. "Even from you."

Wary of touching him again, Olivia remained silent.

"You… you startled him, I think."

"This is what happened to that girl, isn't it?" Olivia ventured, beginning to put pieces together. "You lost control of Justice?" When he didn't say anything in return, she slowly, carefully took one of his hands in hers. "What's happened to you?" she wondered aloud. "I miss you, Anders." He didn't respond, but Olivia was determined to occupy the uncomfortable silence. "Remember all those stories I told you about my friends during the Blight? Well, I miss them too. Morrigan and Zevran and Oghren. But you…" She gave his hand a light squeeze. "You're right here."

"I'm sorry, Olivia," Anders spoke finally, his tone dark. "I'm not the same person I was then. But I'm going to change that, I think."

She offered him an encouraging smile.

"I'm going to change that," he repeated, standing and tugging his hand away from Olivia. "If I don't…" he muttered to himself, looking off to the distance, "there will be no peace."

Olivia's gaze lingered on the mage, worry tainting her hazel eyes. Her fingers twisted a piece of her caramel hair. "You could always come back," she reminded him.

Anders barked a short laugh. "They'd never let me."

"I am the Warden-Commander. I'd make them let you."

"I'm not going back."

She cringed at the finality of his voice. "I understand." Olivia stood, wanting to go to him and comfort him, but she refrained, surrendering to the fact that her friend had changed in the short time they'd been apart. "I guess I'll go speak to Hawke, then," she muttered, wondering if it would cheer Anders up at all.

"Good," was his curt reply. "It would be best if you leave."

Olivia headed for the door, back into the filth that was Darktown. She crinkled her nose at the sour smell. With a sigh, she tried—and failed—to clear her mind of Anders' ominous words.

So far, she wasn't really enjoying her trip to Kirkwall.