Ah, beautiful day.

Varric was in a good mood, and as he strode up the path leading through the Hawke estate's garden towards the estate itself, he found himself pushing his hands into the pockets of his coat and whistling a note without either melody nor tune. To his right, a lean gardener straightened from his work to shoot the dwarf an irritated look, but Varric didn't much care as he continued to whistle poorly and head for the palace ahead.

Varric had plenty to be pleased about. The Hanged Man was full of happy people as of late, giving it that warm atmosphere he'd missed...not to mention giving him lots of people to regale with fun stories. Further, people had been very positive, despite all their hardships and the city being nearly under marshal law at the hands of the Templars' rule.

Of course, the reason for the happiness was likely not to be long-lived, but Varric had learnt to take what he could. Everywhere the tale was being spoken, everyone knew of it...how Garrett Hawke, Champion, unofficial Viscount, had slain a High Dragon with his beautiful elven maiden at his side like the heroes of old. The tale was full of drama, heroics and even a sprinkle of romance...Varric ought to know, he'd told it so many times now his throat had gotten raw.

It was perfect.

And not something made up or loosely based on fact either, for Garrett and Merrill hadn't been the only ones there.

There had been the soldiers that had come with the noble, those that had survived, anyway. Not to mention that some of the miners in the Bone Pit had also been hiding deep in the mines and come out at the sound of battle.

And while the word of an employee of Garrett's might be questioned, there had been the two young boys out playing in the area. Not to mention the survivors of a previously attacked trading caravan, and the young couple that been out for a picnic. All had been drawn to the sound of the battle, and been peering at it from their hiding spots.

And so, the tale had spread like wildfire, a story full of magic, dragons and flashing swords, even a faithful Mabari, all teeth and loyalty.

It had been enough to make the idolisation of Hawke from the battle with the Arishok – which had naturally waned as the normal drudge of work came back – to come back tenfold, even to the point of Varric finding it a bit much.

Of course, such a tale, full of eyewitnesses, meant that it was more or less confirmed that Garrett's wife was a mage...an apostate. Yet Meredith had not taken action, much to the amusement of the commoners, who, holding Garrett in such high regard, were likely the reason for the Knight-Commander not acting...she'd not forgotten Garrett's threats, it seemed. In essence, his victory over the dragon had not only been a political gain for him and a great boon for mages and their reputation...but it had been a great blow to Meredith's authority in the city...and the man hadn't even planned any of it.

Not that Garrett's noticing. Varric chuckled at the thought, he hadn't seen the man since his return from the battle, rumour had it he was injured and was recovering, or that he was drinking the dragon's blood with the Arishok's skull as a cup or a hundred different things. Varric had seen the man when entering the city though, and he hadn't looked hurt, nor was the man one to drink blood or do any of the crazy things people, Varric included, had claimed he might be doing.

So in the end, Varric had decided to go see for himself.

Ahead, the doors to the estate opened before him without question, the guard holding it open grinning wide. "Good morning, Serah!"

"Ben, Ben, it's Varric to you." Varric strode on, smile wide. "How's the wife? Did she like that necklace?"

"Sure, thank you...was almost enough to make her forgive me for being ambushed by a dragon."

Varric chuckled, striding into the hallway, staunchly ignoring the elf there glaring at the coat the dwarf, as always, refused to be parted with. No one puts this thing on a hanger but me, buddy...besides, exposing this chest to the public would cause riots. "I'll go for something with a diamond in it next time then, though given what she's like, I bet she'll never be satisfied."

Behind him, he could feel the guard's grimace. "Tell me about it..."

Still chuckling, Varric strode on...only to grimace at the sight in the main hall. Oh boy, bet this'll be fun...blondie's at it again.

Varric liked Anders, even respected him. The human was a man of principles and kindness, a healer, generous with his aid and selfless in his devotion to his causes. But he was also getting more and more frightening per day with his anti-templar mood growing and his sense of humour and humanity seemingly fading...worst thing was that none but Varric seemed to really notice, the others either caught up in their own dealings or just too used to Anders' behaviour to notice the subtly growing extremism.

As such, it was with mixed emotions that Varric put on a smile and walked across the hall towards Anders, ready to greet him...and not a bit surprised when the mage, not noticing him, made a greeting impossible by raising his voice at the elf servant before him. "What do you mean, occupied!? I already told you, I have a meeting scheduled with him!"

"I...don't believe you do, Serah." The elf replied, arching an eyebrow and looking a little tired.

Sighing, the mage moved a hand up to rub his eyelids, his frustration palpable. "Nooo...but I did, two days ago, and he wasn't available then!"

Time to jump in. "Oh? Isn't Hawke taking visitors? What about the handsome dwarven kind?" Smiling at the two men now turning to look at him, Varric continued. "Where is the famed sod anyway? I've missed him, we've had too many a drink in his honour in the Hanged Man without him attending...that's rude, you know." Anders rolled his eyes at the words, leaving Varric to look to the other man. "And hello, Fenn, nice to see you."

Inclining his head in a bow, the elf offered a polite smile. "Serah Tethras...I'm afraid my lord Hawke is not taking visitors at the time...he's..." Fenn's eyes shifted back and forth. "...busy."

Varric arched an amused eyebrow even as Anders growled, hands bawled into fists. "That's what you told me last time!"

"And he's still...busy." Fenn breathed back, the elf seemingly struggling to remain stoic.

I wonder... Varric smirked. "Busy with the same thing since two days past...?" Fenn shot him a wide-eyed look, making the dwarf's smirk widen. "...or the same person?"

To his credit, Fenn barely blushed at all as he straightened, hands behind his back. "As I said, Serah, he's busy, as with what, that's none of your business."

Chuckling, Varric put a hand on Anders' back. "Thank you, Fenn, and don't worry, you've done your duty...tell them I came bye to said 'hi'...whenever they come out." Looking over to the glowering Anders, Varric pushed into the mage's back. "Come on, buddy, let's go get you a drink, I think."

Grumbling, Anders allowed himself to be lead out, both him and the dwarf expertly ignoring the elf near the door glaring at their respective coats. Shaking his head as they reached the doorway, the scarred mage barely muttered his words. "I don't understand that man...so reasonable, so intelligent, yet when it comes to Merrill he's like a dog in heat once his blood is up."

I'd like to see you say that to his face. Varric doubted the man would though, it wasn't hard to see that the man had been carefully cultivating his relationship with the noble as of late. "Well love doesn't have to make sense, Anders, and clearly, those two are just...made for a stormy relationship. Guess that's part of their problem, actually, they're both so intelligent and used to the intellectual side of things that they can't handle all these emotions and crap that come up...hence all this drama back and forth." Varric shrugged as Anders shot him a incredulous look. "What? I know love all too well, friend. Bianca and I have gone through it all..."

Sighing, the mage looked away. "If you say so...it's just frustrating to know the man is ignoring his duties."

"Well to be fair, I think it wise to lay low right now for him, popularity or not." Varric shrugged, besides, he was well aware that Garrett's political machinery was working adequately since he'd entered the city, which meant Anders' protest was merely aimed at things outside the running of the city. "What did you want to talk to him about anyway?" The moment the question left his lips, Varric regretted it. Crap...me and my big mouth.

"I need to speak to him about Meredith." Oooof course. "He's promised aid, and to rein her in, but just a few days ago she made a dozen mages Tranquil right in the docks, with barely a trial or a chance to say goodbye to their loved ones!"

"Oh yeah, I heard about that." Varric grimaced, hesitated, then decided to take the Qunari by the horns. "Wasn't that mages from the tower though? Who broke out and nearly escaped?"

"Yes..." Anders hissed, eyes narrowed as he stared right ahead. "...and however loathsome she is, I would have understood punishing them...but making them tranquil like that...the woman has no soul."

"Well pardon me asking...but didn't you know that escape attempts were punishable by this? Because I'm guessing you had a big hand in this escape attempt?" Varric asked, curious to get a feel of Anders' mood.

To his surprise, there was not a hint of guilt in the mage's face. "Of course I did! Freedom is worth any risk! Especially, as Orsino puts it, under the current regime in the Circle." He shot Varric a glance, then snorted and looked away. "You wouldn't understand..."

"I have a very active imagination." Varric replied with a snort, he loathed people claiming one 'couldn't understand'. People have too little faith in that little thing called empathy. "And what, you agree with Orsino now? So if there was a change of leadership in the Circle to...I don't know, that friendly chap, Cullen? Would you then not mind things there so much?"

"Of course I'd mind it!" Anders snorted, eyes boring into the ground before him as they walked down the garden path towards the exit. "A kind tyrant is still a tyrant, and a prison with gentle guards is still a prison." A deep breath, the rumble within the mage's chest a deep growl. "It's not right, it's not just, it's not acceptable."

"Well...here's hoping Garrett can help you...once he's done within Merrill." Varric dutifully patted Anders' back, trying not to think about how furious Anders sounded. "Let's go and get you a drink."

Anders hesitated. "...you meant with Merrill, right?"

"You heard me."

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Cullen blinked at the sight, slowing down as he manoeuvred around a table taken by six Rivaini women giving him looks he was far from used to and not at all comfortable with. I've been in the tower and keep too much...Maker, why is that woman licking her lips?!

Still, he had a job to do, and it was far too easy to move his gaze from the women eyeing him like a piece of meat to the man over at the bar. Striding over there, Cullen stopped himself from placing a hand on the other templar's shoulder, knowing fully well how dangerous the other man was and what a fuse he could sometimes have. Instead, he sat himself down next to him, elbows on the counter as he ignored the barkeep's questioning looks.

Silence reigned between them.

Neither really capable or willing to speak about anything outside work with one another.

Sighing, Cullen began. "Knight-Captain Carver...I'm surprised to find you here. The Blooming Rose isn't exactly a place befitting a man of your station."

"They have good w-wine." Was the grunted reply. Carver's face was a grim mask, staring straight ahead as he shrugged. "Not that celibacy is required of us or anything but..." The words petered out, the man's sigh long and slow. "They just have good wine."

Silence once again descended on them.

Oookay...trying again. "So, why are you here, Captain? Meredith sent me out to look for you, she has work for you." Though judging by your smell, I'll have to do that...best get you home though.

"D-Don't feel like it today." Carver grunted, raising an empty glass to his mouth before grimacing, slamming it back onto the counter. "Barkeep! Another round!"

The barkeep approached, hesitant look on his face as he eyed the stinking templar, then turned a questioning look to Cullen...who shrugged and gestured for the man to get on with it, there was no point turning Carver hostile.

As the barkeep began to fill the glass, Carver brooded, staring at the goblet. Only once it was filled did he speak again. "A high dragon."

Ah. "Yes, it's...quite the talk of the town." Cullen grimaced, there was no way the conversation would go well.

"Not a dragonling, not a wyvern, not a drake or even dragon...a high dragon." Carver hissed, shaking his head with a sneer. "We faced one in Ferelden, you know, he shook in his boots then, terrified of it." Well I would be too... "How did he go from that to slaying one in personal combat!?" A grimace of disgust. "Oh, I'm sorry, he and his beautiful elven wife did..."

Cullen, taking a deep breath, remained silent.

"...and publicly a mage as well! An apostate and no one reacts!? They even hail her as a hero!?" Carver was shaking, breathing heavily in anger. "Why aren't we...doing something!?" He shook his head, gritting his teeth. "And she...they...right there...an apostate and a whore..."

Cullen blinked, confused. "Erm...I'm pretty sure she's his wife, brother, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing." Carver snapped, eyes bitter as he stared into the glass he held in his hands. "She's j-just...I get so..." He took a long drink from his glass, when he put it down, he looked calmer, scarier. "...nothing."

"I...see." Confused, but deciding to drop the subject, Cullen shrugged. "Anyway...yes, I can see how this is all frustrating, I too find it a little annoying how Garrett killing a dragon has somehow made us unpopular. It's not fair."

"Yeah, not fair..." Carver nodded. "Why is he getting everything? All the glory. All the money. All the...everything!" A grunt. "Did you hear he had the dragon cut up and served in the docks to people!? I...it's just repugnant, morally wrong..."

Cullen grimaced. "Well...it is an animal." And feeding the poor with something so exotic got him even more popular...Maker, we ought to promote the Chantry doing that again, both we and the poor could use it. "I'm sure they took out the dead people and buried them first."

"He's just...exploiting everything, everyone, he touches for power..." Carver growled. "He farmed the entire thing, like a swarm of locusts...did you know that?"

Who wouldn't? A high dragon's scales and bones are worth a fortune. Cullen grimaced though, tired as he remembered the recent package that had arrived at Meredith's office. "I'm aware, yes. He sent part of it to Meredith, you know? A sword of dragonbone...worth a fortune."

"Yeah, the nerve...Meredith was furious, and rightly so." Carver sighed, swinging back and forth in her seat. "He's rubbing in what he did and with whom in our faces!"

"A...little, yes." Cullen sighed. He'd tried pointing out what a grand gift it was and that perhaps it was a gesture of friendship to be embraced...but in the end it was hard not to see the gesture for what it was, a signal that the man was capable of protecting the city on his own and that he could do what he wanted, with whoever he wanted. "I'm amazed Meredith kept it though, she looked so angry about it...yet I admit, she has a point, a tool like that should be used in the hands of the Maker's servants." As to what that use is, we can always disagree...

"She's admirable, yes..." Carver nodded, then growled. "...best way to handle it, show that ass we don't take his shit." A pause, Carver looking thoughtful, then angry once more. "She should use it to beat the hell out of that 'champion' and then-"

"Oookay, time to go, buddy." Cullen, gripping Carver by the arm, hoisted the man to his feet even as he looked about, suddenly realising those who sat closest to them had not only been listening in, but as Carver spoke the last words, they were looking increasingly hostile.

Two stools away, a young little elf girl glared at the two templars, thin hand white as she gripped her glass tightly, seemingly ready to throw it at them.

"Wh-what?" Carver shook his head, confused, but too drunk to properly protest by now, his weight bearing down on Cullen's shoulders. "But I wasn't finished...?"

At the other side of the counter, the barkeep muttered something under his beard, closed fists resting on the bar, eyes on Carver.

"Yeah, well, we have some stuff in the keep you ought to try." It's called a bed and a glass of water. "You can tell me all about how good you've gotten with your sword on the way." Given the way his brother was staggering, Cullen guessed his implication of the man being dangerous wouldn't have much effect on those around them, but anything was better than nothing.

As they moved towards the exit, someone spat at their feet. Fortunately, Carver didn't notice. Nor did he notice the human sitting in a corner with a half-naked woman in his lap, both having gone still in their cuddling as they with cold eyes watched the two templars move.

The hostility, like a slowly growing fire, was spreading throughout the bar.

It was a relief getting out, making Cullen breathe a little easier. Too close...

Then Carver doubled over and dry-heaved.

"Right..." Sighing, Cullen helped the man to straighten once he'd finished. "...time to get you home."

"I...I hate him, you know...? I truly do."

"I know, brother."

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Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being so patient with me.