Dearest Father,

I spent the morning talking to Varric, trying to get to know him a little better. If I am going to be trapped underground with this man, it's only sensible that I poke around his history isn't it? He's the storyteller of the group, the Hanged Man, whatever guilds he's in, but his story seems pretty simple enough. Maybe that's why he makes up such grand stories about other people.

We seem to have found a common ground though. He doesn't get along with his brother either. I had to laugh when Varric told me that he's the one that keeps his brother out of trouble...don't I know that role all too well! While his brother Bartrand is happy to run off in several different directions all at once, Varric has lived in Kirkwall his entire life. I'm envious of that. I mean I know you always tried to make every new place home, but I can admit to you now Father, it didn't work.

Have I told you about the talkative man? He roams the Hanged Man, walking up and down the stairs, through the halls, muttering to himself. It seems Varric is the only one to engage him; the two speak in riddles it seems. But in getting to know Varric more, I'm starting to wonder if it's really some type of code. People around here don't mind being overheard by a crazy man, they think nothing of him. But if the crazy man is really sane and is picking up on all sorts of information, he's a genius!

On my way downstairs from Varric's room a drunk man told me that Meredith uses the hair of dead mages to keep herself warm in the winter. I hope I never meet this woman, she sounds dreadful!

Allow me to introduce to you the new hermit club! I dragged Anders, Merrill, and Fenris with me today. It seemed like a good idea at first, taking all the loners out for the day to get them out of their dark corners of Kirkwall. Then I remembered Fenris doesn't really trust mages, and now he's walking around Kirkwall with three of them! I will have to apologize to him later.

I didn't bother to bring Carver. I needed a break from him. Still trying Father, but Maker he knows how to hurt me more than Mother does.

Sidetracked, sorry. Anyway, remember that dark-skinned woman I told you about the other day? The one that all the men were drooling over? Well those of us in the hermit club were trying to enjoy lunch when she got into a fight with a bunch of men! The way she moved her blades, it was fascinating. I remember my dagger skills you taught me, but Father she was amazing! Even though she was more than capable of handling herself, for some reason I wanted to stand by her and show some numbers in case those guys thought of another attack. They ran for their lives like cowards!

Isabela is her name. She asked for my help; guess the group of three mages and the great-sworded warrior clued her in that we weren't the norm in Kirkwall. She claimed she wanted to duel someone, asked us to watch her back in case the man didn't play fairly. I agreed to help; we are still trying to get coin together and she was willing to pay.

But her callous nature when she said her problem was solved if the man was dead bothered me. She didn't seem to care at all if she had to take someone's life. I wonder if it's something that can be taught, this ability to kill and not care. I still throw up every night before bed if someone has gone to the Makers side by my hand, even if they deserved it.

When I found out we'd be going to the Chantry to look for this man Isabela wanted to duel, I can admit to you Father I silently prayed that Sebastian would be there so I could see him again. His smile is so...and his eyes are just...and that voice! Oh never mind that. I thanked the Maker he wasn't there though when the fighting began.

I really tried to convince this Hayder person to walk away, end things peacefully, but he claimed his life was forfeit either way. More bloodshed in the Chantry. First Karl, and now Hayder. How is such a holy place been a magnet for violence? Shouldn't this be a place of peace? Reflection?

I am ashamed to admit this Father, but it seems I may have been wrong about this woman pirate. She told me a little bit of her story, about how she helped free over two hundred slaves, which was part of the reason so many people are after her. She told me her ship was destroyed in a storm and that's why she was in Kirkwall, and that she had lost most of her crew. Over ten years some of them served together; almost like a family.

I wish I could say I had known someone for over ten years that wasn't the family I grew up with. I guess you and Mother didn't really have friends either did you, always on the run because of me and Bethany? I'm sorry Father. I am beginning to understand what a lonely place that really is. It's only a matter of time before something happens here and we'll have to run again. No time to form lasting friendships like that. Or even relationships. I suppose I was being foolish to think it might some day happen.

"Is she here?"

"No Hawke," Varric responded. "It seems she prefers to spend her nights down at the docks and stumbles in when the others are falling out."

"Thank the Maker," Hawke said settling into a seat between the two elves. "Was it just me, or did that really happen back there?"

Fenris chuckled into his drink, and Merrill looked confused. Varric nodded and answered her question, "I'm afraid so."

Carver scanned the faces at the table and his lower lip formed a pout. "What are we talking about? What happened back where?"

"Oh nothing Little Hawke," Varric said leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands together to his chest. "Just the latest addition in the Hawke adventure book of being propositioned by a dark skinned busty pirate from Rivain."

"What?" Merrill perked up. "Hawke's getting married? Who proposed? I didn't even know you were seeing anybody!"

Hawke blushed as she felt the weight of her brothers stare. "I'm not getting married Merrill, nor am I seeing anybody."

"You're not?" Anders asked for confirmation, a desperate look of hopefulness in his eyes.

"No," she replied quietly, looking anywhere but in his general direction. When she did look up, she noticed he wasn't the only one watching her. Fenris had a pensive look on his face, but found something very interesting in his drink when she looked his way. "She doesn't even know me," Hawke returned to the original question. "Why would she..."

"Hawke," Varric cut her off from embarrassing herself even further. "There are many types of people in this world. I have learned that there are certain folk who enjoy the comforts of home, and there are others that enjoy the comforts of people. I think Rivaini may prefer the latter since she isn't presently at home."

She shook her head, not wanting to think about the offer. "You seem to know a lot about a lot Varric, mind if I ask you another question?"

"I'm all ears Hawke," Varric said as he took another sip from his mug.

"Really?" Merrill perked up. "I thought you were all chest hair."

Their laughter filled the room, even the low growl of Fenris' tone could be heard in jovial form. Merrill didn't seem to understand why they were all laughing, as she looked around the table but said nothing further.

Hawke wiped a laugh tear from her eye and continued with her question. "I've been wondering..."

"Oh this should be good," Carver said, and she kicked him hard under the table.

Clearing her throat, she repeated "I've been wondering...the last two times we have been to the Chantry at night, it hasn't exactly gone as we had planned. Why is it that no one ever seems to be there except us and the bad guys? Where are the Sisters? Or the Grand Cleric?"

Varric raised an eyebrow and tugged at an earring. "Good question Hawke. It's almost like they know we're coming and they all run away so they don't disturb our epic adventures."

"Now you sound like that rambling crazy man," Hawke said finishing her wine.

"He is a wise man Hawke," Varric pointed out. "Even he knows; the truth is out there."