"Leave it alone, Hawke. I don't need your magic."
Olivia shifted in her seat, doing her best not to eavesdrop at the ongoing conversation in the other room.
"Calm down, Fenris," was Hawke's quiet reply.
"Just—" The elf fell suddenly silent, then spit out a few angry words in a language unfamiliar to Olivia. "Magic," he sneered. "I don't need your healing."
"But I'll bet a whole sovereign that it feels better," Hawke taunted.
Olivia couldn't hear his response, but she assumed it was a reluctant agreement. Hawke appeared in the doorway, motioning for Olivia to follow. "Sorry. I just wanted to get Fenris all healed up first. We ran into some Carta thugs on the way here," she explained. "I'm glad you were able to find your way, though. I should've told you at The Hanged Man." Hawke rubbed her temples, closing her eyes for a moment. "I've been a bit… off-balance since my mother died."
"It's alright," Olivia assured her. She had been fortunate enough to run into Bodahn on her trek through Hightown, and he had been more than willing to show her to Hawke's estate. "I don't want to pry at your life. I'm here mostly because Anders wants me to meet you." As the words slipped from her, Olivia furrowed her brow, afraid that she would come across as ungrateful.
"No, no," Hawke insisted, "please, prod and pry at my life. I mean, that's what everyone else does, now that Varric's told them I killed a dragon with my bare hands." Her tone was light, but her eyes were heavy with a weariness Olivia understood all too well.
As Olivia was about to comfort her, Fenris emerged from the side room, glowering at the two mages. "I'm leaving," he announced, but Hawke reached out and let her fingers trail over his arm.
"Stay, please."
Olivia studied Hawke's eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the need that shone through. It reminded her suddenly of Alistair, and she sighed loudly.
Hawke and Fenris glanced back at Olivia. "You could leave," Hawke mumbled, hesitant as she turned back to Fenris.
"No, sorry," Olivia apologized, realizing they took her sigh for distaste. "It's not that. I just… miss being home," she admitted.
There was a deafening silence, but Fenris eventually spoke up. "Did you see the Circle as your home?"
"I had to," she answered automatically. Rubbing her arm self-consciously, she added, "It's all I ever knew, really. Then, there was Ostagar, and then… Nothing. But now I have Vigil's Keep," she finished, trying to lighten her voice.
"My brother was at Ostagar," Hawke offered, leading them to the side room so they all had a place to sit. "Carver's a templar, now, but he was a soldier in Cailan's army. Even if he didn't spend all his time in the Gallows, I don't think I'd introduce you," she snickered. "He can be a bit of an ass sometimes."
Olivia settled into her chair, gazing into the fire. "He was lucky, then," she muttered, turning back to Hawke and Fenris. "Many soldiers didn't make it out of there alive." Her mind wandered to her own chance escape.
"He had a twin," Hawke revealed quietly. "Bethany. I would've introduced you in a heartbeat. Everyone loved her. She was so sweet, and kind, and soft-spoken. She was also a terribly frightening mage," she added.
"Your father was an apostate, as well?" Olivia asked, trying her best not to sound accusing. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Hawke's red hair bob in a silent nod.
"He died a few years before we left Lothering. Bethany was killed on the way to Kirkwall, and my mother was murdered this past year."
Olivia sucked in a sharp breath. Why would Anders bring me here? she thought, a bit annoyed. I haven't found a family, I've found a lonely woman surrounded in death. "I'm sorry," she offered, knowing it wasn't enough.
"Oh, don't be," Hawke chastised lightly. "Look at me. I'm the Champion of Kirkwall, I'm filthy rich, and I have this giant estate to share with my dog."
She recognized the deceptively cheerful tone – it was one that Alistair used often – and decided not to pry any further. "So, what is it that the Champion does in Kirkwall?"
"Kill things, make money, then piss it all away at The Hanged Man." Hawke chuckled before continuing, "Really, though, that's all I do. I make a terrible noble."
"It's hard to stop," Olivia agreed, despising the endless stacks of reports she dealt with as Warden-Commander. "Life on the road is so much more interesting," she sighed.
Hawke wrinkled her nose. "I prefer a nice, warm bed to a tent."
"Tents aren't so bad." She felt her face flush from her own memories at camp, and cleared her throat. "You visit The Hanged Man often?" she inquired, quickly changing the subject.
"Too often," Fenris grumbled. Olivia looked up in surprise, but he was smirking, his gaze relaxed and fixed on Hawke.
Groaning, she remained silent, burying her face in her hands.
"The barkeep doesn't believe she's the Champion," the elf explained. "He said she's always too drunk to fight properly."
"Not drunk," Hawke corrected, her tone defensive. "He said preoccupied, not drunk. I like to think it has to do with our card games. I don't get drunk," she pouted.
"Smashed, then. Isn't that the word Varric used?"
Olivia watched their playful banter with interest, forgiving Anders for dragging her to Kirkwall. With most of her own companions going their own way, Vigil's Keep was beginning to feel lonely – there were just unfamiliar recruits and foreign reinforcements. Maybe I could come here often, she thought with a smile. I could bring Alistair next time. It would be good to get out of that stuffy keep – other than while on patrol, that is.
"…Olivia?"
She looked up, finding both Hawke and Fenris staring at her. Blushing, she stammered, "Sorry, lost in my thoughts."
"We were just wondering how long you planned on staying in Kirkwall." Hawke shrugged, as if to show the question wasn't a big deal. "As the Warden-Commander, you must be dreadfully busy, but you're welcome to stay as long as you like."
"Just a few days," Olivia answered automatically, not sure when she had unconsciously made the decision. "Maker knows I could use a break from those damned reports."
Olivia awoke early, feeling refreshed. The soft morning sunlight shone in through the window, casting a soft glow around the unfamiliar room. She sat up slowly, squinting against the light.
Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the opposite side of the room, she groaned. Her hair was a mess. Olivia slid out of the silk sheets, briefly debating whether or not to change clothes. Hawke had given her a rather expensive looking outfit to wear, but Olivia knew she'd feel more comfortable in her familiar armor.
Instead, she tackled her hair, furiously brushing the short caramel strands back into their proper places. Maker, she groaned internally. And I didn't even have any nightmares. How does hair even get so messed up?
Not long after she'd awoken, there came a soft knock at her door. "Come in," she answered hesitantly, not wanting to deal with anyone quiet so soon after waking up.
"It's me." Hawke poked her head inside, the rest of her soon coming into view. "I know it's early, but…" She bit her lip, her eyes worried. She wore her robes, an extravagant red and black ensemble. "I'm busy today," she apologized, "so I needed to speak with you before I left."
Olivia nodded in silent understanding.
Sighing, Hawke sat on the bed, leaning up against the headboard. "It's Anders," she admitted drowsily. "He came to the estate late last night. He said he promised you something about changing, and he wants to speak with you."
"Me?"
Hawke nodded, then paused. "Well, both of us, actually. He says—" she stifled a yawn before continuing, "—says he's got a way to fix himself. Him and Justice."
She blinked in confusion. "Oh." Olivia looked down, thinking hard on her conversation with Anders the day before. Maybe I made that big of an impression on him, she wondered, though she doubted her own thoughts.
"I want to speak to him this evening, before we all go to The Hanged Man. I wish we could go earlier, but Isabela wants help." Hawke snorted in disapproval. "I think it involves robbing an innocent man who refused to sleep with her."
Olivia nodded, though she wasn't listening. "Can I write a letter?" she asked, suspicion growing in her mind.
"Sure." Hawke explained where the parchment and quills were before excusing herself. "Don't forget about Anders," she added as she slipped out the door.
Simply nodding again, Olivia headed for the writing desk and rummaged around for what she needed.
Alistair, she began simply, I think I'll be gone a bit longer than intended. I found who I was looking for, she wrote, careful not to mention Anders' name, in case a curious Warden decided to read the letter, and I wouldn't feel safe leaving Kirkwall without resolving a few things first. I'll be back as soon as I can. Please take care of your shoulder, and don't forget to let Lily out before you put her to bed. Olivia smiled at the mention of her beloved Mabari, shaking her head as she realized how much she missed the two of them. I love you both, she finished, leaving the letter unsigned. Alistair would recognize her handwriting, and they didn't need anyone—curious Wardens or otherwise—knowing where the Commander was.
Setting the quill down, Olivia chewed on her lip thoughtfully. It had been a while since the Qunari attack and the death of the Viscount, but Kirkwall still seemed shaken. Olivia was afraid that, if she didn't do anything, the combination of Justice's determination and Anders' need for theatrics would shake the city in a way it wouldn't be able to recover from.