"Varric, can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly Daisy," the dwarf replied as he marked up his new deck for the game later. "What's on your mind?"

Merrill picked at a piece of wood splintering off from the rest of the table. "Hawke. You've known her a lot longer than I have. What's she like?"

Varric looked up at Hawke, seated in her usual corner of the Hanged Man when she wrote her letters. "I haven't known her much longer than you Daisy," Varric responded. "She's made quite a name for herself in Kirkwall though over the last year. But from personal experience? She's kind, sometimes too much for her own good. She's oblivious to the way Blondie looks at her. Her family is just as annoying as mine, and she spends too much time buried in those letters."

Merrill sat back and studied Hawke. "I like her freckles," she commented. "Sometimes when she talks I get distracted trying to count them all."

Varric laughed at the young elf. "Is that why you stare at her so intently when she speaks?"

Merrill nodded. "I got up to thirty-seven this morning before she turned away from me. Now I'll have to start all over next time."

Varric continued to observe Hawke as she wrote. "Back to your original question, I also think Hawke may be a little lost; still trying to find her own way."

"You should give her a ball of twine," Merrill suggested. "The one you gave me always helps me when I'm lost."

Varric missed her comment, or surely he would've chuckled and shook his head at their newest companion. Instead his eyes were still watching Hawke, and he wondered to himself if her golden eyes would ever shine.

Dearest Father,

"There are few things in this world stronger than a promise kept." I have wanted to write that to you ever since I heard it. I met the Dalish clan that Flemeth wanted us to give the amulet to. Their Keeper, Marethari, is the one who said that to me, and once again I was reminded of you. I don't know if it's because I miss you so, or I am finally meeting others almost as wise as you.

Flemeth said that destiny awaits us both. She also said that I can not learn to fly until I fall. Both Marethari and Flemeth sound just like you when they offer advice or say things like this. I used to think you only spoke in riddles, but I am finally learning you were teaching me life lessons. Now if only I could figure out what it all meant.

Having Merrill with us has been an interesting challenge. I admit the moment I saw her use blood magic, my heart sank. It seems I am the only normal mage in Kirkwall that's not in the Gallows! One has a spirit, the other plays with demons, Father what have I gotten myself into? I feel bad for the young elf; she's very alone in this city and really only has us to call friends. By "us" I refer to Varric and I; Anders and Carver keep their distance because of her blood magic. I don't blame them; I am uneasy about it as well. But I also know what it is like to be away from those you were close to, and I feel sorry for her.

I wonder what words you would have to say about this? I am sure you wouldn't approve of me being so near dangerous magic. But she hasn't used it since she opened the barrier on top of Sundermount. I think our initial reactions may have something to do with that. I admit I was a bit harsh, and her and Anders got into a fight over the differences between demons and spirits. To me they are all the same; anything needing to use you as a host can not be a good thing. Even Flemeth somehow allowing herself to be summoned halfway across Thedas by an amulet seems strange to me. Oh Father; it seems there was so much more you needed to teach me.

You warned me about the dangers of magic. You also cautioned me heavily in the use of blood magic and told me to never ever do it. I remember there was a story you had promised to tell me when I was older about the one time you were forced to use blood magic, but it seems that time never came. I guess I'll never know now will I? I doubt I can ask Mother about it; though she is obviously comfortable around the idea of magic, I don't think asking her about that story would be a good idea. She doesn't talk about you much anymore. I think it's still too painful for her.

I think I am starting to find my way a bit in Kirkwall. The last year helped me get to know a lot of people, even if they are only acquaintances, but it's given me the opportunities I need to gather coin for the expedition I was telling you about. Mother of course knows nothing about that...when she finds out, she is not going to be happy.

"Sister, there you are," Carver interrupted her thoughts.

"Is there some place else I should be?" Hawke asked, placing her letter face down from his prying eyes.

Carver sat at the table opposite her. "Mother is complaining about how you are never home. It would do her some good if you spent time with her."

Hawke leaned back against the wall and scowled at him. "Uncle Gamlens place is not 'home' Carver. It's confining and smells awful and my ankles have rat bites on them." She summoned Norah for a drink, and looked towards the door as dark-skinned woman wearing hardly anything walked in. Hawke shook her head as every man in the place seemed to notice the woman, her brother included. "Carver, close your mouth; you'll swallow a fly!"

Carver turned his eyes away from the busty stranger and focused his attention back on his sister. "Alright, so it may not be home, but it's all we have right now. You're the one always telling me to make the best of it."

Hawke smiled softly, "I said that? Surely I meant any other situation other than that place. If I had the coin I would stay here."

"And this is much better," Carver asked as they both looked at the floor covered in blood stains and old vomit.

Hawke laughed and embraced her surroundings. "No, I suppose it isn't." She stood, extending her hand for her brother to do the same. "But it does have familiar faces. Let's go see what Merrill and Varric are up to."