Dragon Age 1. Chapter 1

I'm not sure where this story is going to go, but it's all in good fun, right? And obviously, I own nothing...

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Chapter 1

Hawke fled Kirkwall alone. She was too dangerous to put anyone at further risk. She had failed to protect everyone and everything that had ever been dear to her. She hoped that by disappearing alone, she might protect what remained of her friends by simply being absent. She had killed so many trying to be a protector. The Arishok, the First Enchanter, the Knight Commander, Anders...all dead by her hands, by her magic. _And what has magic ever touched that it did not spoil_, she thought. Yet she could no more be rid of her magic than she could bring all that she had lost back to her.

She looked out across the water and sighed deeply.

"Brooding again sweetling?" Isabela appeared behind her. "You know, you're much prettier when you're not scowling." The pirate winked suggestively. Hawke wasn't really in the mood for flirting. She was grateful to Isabela for giving her safe passage on her ship. She was not grateful for the relentless flirting. Back in Kirkwall was one thing, it was a big city afterall, with enough room for Isabela's large…personality. But in the close quarters of the ship, Hawke was starting to feel very crowded.

"I'll try to save the brooding until we dock then. How long before we arrive?"

"Two days. Are you still sure you don't want to stay aboard and travel with us? The offer still stands Hawke, I owe you that at least" Isabela's tone always lost its swagger when she remembered how Hawke had saved her life.

"Thank you again, but no. It is far too dangerous for you and your crew to keep me around. I'm going to Minrathous to disappear and stay out of trouble for a change. I'll just be one more mage there."

"Yes, but the other mages there aren't quite so self loathing, you know."

"Well, who said I'd want to play with them anyway?" Hawke managed a wink of her own for the pirate.

"Trouble has a way of finding you, Hawke. I'm sure you'll be playing with them in no time. But if I know you, you won't be playing nice."

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Fenris looked out across the water. In the distance ahead he could just make out the spires of Minrathous. His stomach turned at the sight, and for a brief moment his resolve wavered. The moment passed quickly, because he had already decided he would run no longer. He saw so clearly now that the only path to true freedom was a path spattered with the blood of his former master.

He was fortunate enough to have arranged passage on this ship. He closed his eyes and hung his head back to face the hot Northern sun. The heat, at least, was a welcome change. He had been traveling south all this time thinking to put as much distance as possible between him and this poisonous metropolis. The damp chill of the southern lands had become increasingly difficult to bear while on the run. Unfortunately, the bounty on his head was so high every slaver and hunter from here to the Anderfels thought to try their luck at capturing him, so he was always on the run.

He tried to throw them off his scent in Ferelden. After the blight, there were many places there a fugitive could find anonymity. But along with the devastation of war comes greed, and he once again found himself chased from town to town. When he made it as far as Gwaren, two different groups were pursuing him and they had him effectively cornered. He had not eaten in two days and had not slept in four. In a moment of weakness, a hateful little voice inside of him said, _is freedom worth this_?

He became enraged at himself for even forming the thought, and that was when he came to the decision to run no longer. He managed to bait one of the groups of hunters into attacking the other and their numbers thinned enough for him to be able to deal with the rest on his own. He took what coin he could off their corpses and that very night he booked passage on this ship sailing north. He would no longer run to be free. He would fight to be free. He would kill to be free. Which left him only one path to follow.

Fenris had spent the entirety of the journey thinking through a plan of action. One did not just stroll into the imperial capital and assassinate a powerful and influential magister. Especially not one who happened to be an escaped slave with a very conspicuous appearance. In the last town they had docked, he managed to find an armorer who was able to modify his armor. As much as he wanted to discard all vestiges of his former life, he reluctantly admitted to himself that it was exceptionally well made and suited his fighting style perfectly. Besides, he could never be rid of the one thing that was the constant reminder all he wished to forget. The best he could do for now was cover it. The modified armor did just that. The bright lyrium embedded in his skin was now covered from neck to toe, and with a hood to cover his hair and pull low over his head, he could pass for any other mercenary with a sword.

Going unrecognized would be only the first victory, and a small one at that. He hoped that the very fact he was entering the belly of the beast would provide some slight protection. Danarius would not be expecting Fenris to change his strategy from "retreat" to "charge". The arrogant Magister had always thought himself untouchable. A good deal of that reputation, however, was thanks to having Fenris as a bodyguard.

Ironically, those years spent as a bodyguard left Fenris with detailed knowledge of every corner of the city, which would now serve him well. Few slaves saw more than the inside of their master's mansions, so he considered himself lucky in a way. He planned to take a room in one of the inns lining the docks. They were frequented by many foreign swords for hire and soldiers of fortune looking to profit from the sloth of the magisters. From there he would need to acquire as much information as possible on his target. Much time had passed, and Fenris would have to re-learn Danarius' comings and goings. He would have to tread carefully and find an opening somewhere, somehow.

He wondered briefly what it would be like to not have to go this alone. Painfully, he remembered the last souls who had helped him and how they had paid for it. Alone was how it would have to be.

As he disembarked, the sounds and smells of the sprawling docks enveloped him. He stepped into the throng with renewed purpose and thought, _let it begin_.

xxxx

Hawke was bored. She was terribly, painfully, mind numbingly bored. And hot. She was bored and hot. She hated this city from the moment her toes hit the ground and she hated it more and more as each day passed. The heat seemed to increase with her hatred. Or perhaps it was the other way around. As she lay sprawled upon the bed wearing nothing but her smallclothes, she stared up at the dingy ceiling and nearly felt as if she were evaporating from the heat. She was a Ferelden girl afterall. Even Kirkwall's summers had often been too hot for her comfort. This was beyond what a sane person would consider reasonable.

It was not only the weather that was oppressive. The whole place reeked of oppression. It seemed to her a tangible thing, permeating everything in this Maker-forsaken city. She had taken a room in one of the inns Isabella had recommended to her. It was a place along the docks, whose typical clientele appreciated the fact that they could pay for a room, an ale, and no questions asked. Her first night she decided to take a walk around this part of town to get her bearings and the first thing she saw when she stepped onto the street was a slaver ship unloading its _cargo_. It sickened her. What sickened her even more, and contributed to the general aura of oppression, was that she couldn't do a damn thing about it. The city itself seemed to know it too, know that it's walls and spires existed to break people, not to be broken. No matter how many Qunari battered it's shores, no matter how many slave rebellions hurled themselves upon its infrastructure, Minrathous still stood as oppressive as ever. Hawke could only remember fondly all the times she had killed slavers in the past and the feeling of righteous satisfaction it had always given her. She would kill to have the feeling of killing a slaver again...

Thus her thoughts circled back to her tremendous boredom. She recalled what Isabela said about her "playing with" the mages here. She had been an apostate for so long, and had been trained so well by her father to conceal and generally get by without her magic, it did not occur to her to so openly be a mage here. Even in Kirkwall she had to walk a fine line. There was also the blood magic. She was neither stupid, nor naive. She knew very well the kind of magic these mages so cavalierly used. If there was one thing she hated as much as slavers it was blood mages. _Yet you chose to come to a city controlled by slave-owning maleficarum!_ Hawke flipped herself onto her stomach and buried her face in the threadbare pillow, letting out an exasperated grunt.

She was clearly not good at inaction. She had fleetingly considered trying to open a clinic to help heal some of the city's poor, but it reminded her too acutely of the friend she had foolishly trusted, which was part of the reason she was here in the first place. Her magic was better suited to destruction than restoration anyway. She considered forgoing a magical endeavor entirely to take on some mercenary jobs, but she wasn't yet sure she could risk being so public. When more time had passed and she was assured no one was looking for her here, she could try. Minrathous was hopefully far enough away to escape the Chantry's notice, and large enough to discourage any rouge mages from the Marches or elsewhere from seeking her out to make some kind of figurehead of her…or try to kill her. She still wasn't sure where her legacy would stand with the mages. Did they support her defiance of Chantry law, or did they consider her a treacherous murderer, having taken the lives of Orsino and Anders?

But that was all the past now, and she must put it behind her. Hawke was never one to look behind. _Focus forward and your duty will be clear_, her father used to tell her. Focus forward. He had wanted to teach her to keep temptation behind her and focus on her control, because that would serve her best in the end. Focus forward. She still had such a desire to make things right, or at least better, and she wanted so badly to keep "fighting the good fight". And if that desire was born of trying to atone for past failures, then so be it. She knew what she would do.

With renewed purpose, she shot out of bed and dressed. As she did so, she mused that she was perhaps the only mage in Tevinter without robes and a staff. More lessons from her father. _No need to advertise_, he would say. She had been taught to use magic without the aid of a staff, and she was also taught how to use the daggers she now strapped to her back. _No one expects a mage to pull a blade and not slice themselves with it_, she heard his voice in her head again and smiled. Before she left her room she looked out the small window and saw the hot sun beginning to set. Some hawks do hunt at night.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Fenris clenched his jaw and ground his teeth in frustration. If he was the paranoid type, and perhaps he was, he would think that Danarius knew of his presence and was actively trying to keep him in the dark. Gossip was the national past time in Tevinter. No detail was too small and no person was too unimportant to escape mention in the busy marketplaces, let alone one of the richest and most powerful magisters in the city. Fenris remembered many times in the past, Danarius had but to stand outside a shop or wave to a passerby and he would learn of the latest scandal or hear some new bit of dirt on a rival.

He had wandered the docks for days, haunting shop stalls, doing odd jobs for coin and attempting to make idle conversation with those who hired him. He _hated_ idle conversation. He had even gone to the slave markets to see if he could catch a glimpse of anyone he remembered associating with Danarius. Not only did he not see anyone of note, but he had to fight the urge to pull his sword and start swinging out of sheer disgust.

Fenris walked quickly down the street, darting in and out of the mobs of people all hurrying home in the quickly fading sunlight. He paused just outside the Sword and Sovereign Inn. This was the third place Fenris had taken a room since he arrived, not wanting to stay in one place too long. He studied the scene outside the inn briefly to assure no one was observing or following him, and he went inside. It was just starting to get busy and there was a comfortable hum of noise; just enough to conceal any private conversations. He found the dwarf he was looking for sitting alone in a corner away from the bar. Fenris slid through the crowd and sat at the dwarf's table.

"You better have something for me today, Corbin. If you can't pay me with any useful information, I'm going to physically shake out whatever coin you have on your person and take that as payment." Fenris spoke in a low threatening growl. He had met the dwarf on board the ship. He asked Fenris to provide "protection services" during a business transaction when they arrived. This meant he was going to sell something stolen and didn't want to get killed over a shady deal in a back alley. Corbin told him he didn't really trust human mercenaries. Plus, he added, Fenris had a very big sword. Fenris agreed on the terms that the dwarf would provide him with any information he could get from loitering around the dwarven merchants guild. A menacing looking elf with a large sword would not go unnoticed there; but it was one of the best places in Minrathous to have a spy. Unfortunately much like his own attempts at reconnaissance, Corbin kept coming up empty.

"No need to get violent Elf, I do have something, but I'm not sure why any of this is of interest to you."

"Just tell me what you know and I'll decide if it is of interest or not" Fenris was getting impatient. He did not want to be seen speaking with any one person too often or for too long.

"I was talking with one of my fences…er, um…associates," Fenris rolled his eyes at that, but the dwarf continued. "and he mentioned buying some merchandise from a slaver ring passing through here from Antiva City. They complained to him that their stock was a little low because they spent some time in Ferelden on a hunting job. They were trying to pull in the bounty for a rich magister's lost property. Apparently the trail went cold, but they were selling off what they had for enough coin to pick up the pursuit again. It was a high bounty they said, enough to make it worth a second attempt. If you're after the same bounty, Elf, I would think about recruiting some partners. High bounty means high risk." Corbin took a long swig of the ale in front of him, all the while eyeing Fenris expectantly, hoping this was enough information to get out of the elf's debt.

Fenris' fists clenched under the table. He fought to control his facial expression as he coolly replied, "If these slavers are still in the city and you can tell me where to find them, we're even".

"I was hoping you'd say that. They've been spending their nights down at the brothel near the foundry district. You know the one, the Iron Lady"

"We're even", Fenris said and he slid his chair back, making to leave, when he hit something behind him. Some_one_ actually.

"Corbin, you rank thief, you owe me five sovereigns…umph!" Fenris had backed his chair over a woman who had suddenly appeared at their table. He artfully slipped to the side avoiding coming into contact with her falling form, and she clumsily toppled over the back of the chair. Fenris spared her only a brief glance before he walked directly out of the tavern, no apologies offered.

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"Corbin, you rank thief, you own me five sovereigns…umph!" Hawke's feet were pushed out from under her and she fell forward on the offending chair. She noticed she did not fall forward onto its previous occupant. The man who caused her fall maneuvered out of her way just in time, and though they did not touch, they passed so close to each other she was sure she _felt_ something. Or did she smell something? Or taste it in the air around him? She sniffed the air and twisted her head to look at him, but he was already gone. She was left feeling oddly...stimulated.

She righted herself and sat down in front of the dwarf. She was slightly put off. Not only was it rude for him to move and let her fall, but he didn't even apologize. And what was that _feeling_? Certain spells always left her with a prickly sensation but he certainly did not look like a mage, but then neither did she. She rarely trusted appearances. Still, there was something vaguely tingling of magic left in the space he had occupied. It seemed familiar and foreign at the same time.

"Who was your friend Corbin?" She asked as she reached for the dwarf's ale and took a sip.

"Oh, no one, just another merc looking for work. And I do not owe you five sovereigns. You cheated."

Hawke eyed the dwarf suspiciously. Of course he wouldn't tell her. He owed her coin, not information. Information was always worth more than coin. "We both cheated. I was simply better at it. You should never play cards drunk. No honor among thieves and all that." He reluctantly passed the five sovereigns across the table and Hawke scooped it up with a satisfied smile.

"Do you have another job tonight? You seem to get more work than any of these other sorry sods. Who is hiring you?"

Hawke tried not to sound offended by that last question. He wasn't the first person to underestimate her and he wouldn't be the last. He wouldn't even be the last tonight. Let him think she was doing mercenary work. Let him think she was working in a brothel for all she cared. She just stood, shrugged her shoulders and left him sitting alone with his ale.

She sighed as she stepped outside under the now rapidly darkening sky. It was still humid, the air thick around her, but it was preferable to the daylight hours. She strolled slowly down the street, wondering what trouble she could cause tonight. Hawke smiled to herself as she ran through the list of "jobs" that had kept her busy these past nights. She chose to think of it as community service. On the first evening of her new endeavor, she marched directly down to the slaver ship she had seen her very first night in the city. She was pleased to find it still docked. There was only a skeleton crew on board, and it was a simple thing to sneak aboard and slit each one of their slimy slaver throats. Amazingly, she found quite a bit of the gold they made scattered about the ship. She threw it all in the sea and with an apology whispered to her dead father, she allowed herself a bit of magic, and set the ship on fire. She laughed the whole way back to her bed that night.

Each night since then she managed to find something to do with her time. Frequently it was slaver-killing. Once, as she was wandering down alleys in one of the middle class districts she stumbled upon a small group of mages performing some blood magic ritual. She hadn't bothered to find out what they were doing exactly. She simply killed them, cut the bonds of the two elves cowering in the corner, and left satisfied. It wasn't all killing. She was a civilized, if self-loathing, mage. On a particularly miserable night in the rain, she passed by an elven boy huddled under a shop awning nursing his left arm. She stopped and asked if he needed help. It was clear his arm was broken. She couldn't bring herself to ask how it had happened. She was sure she did not want to know. She simply held her hand out and with a soft whisper of a touch, she healed it for him. Her healing skills were limited, but she could do that much at least. His eyes went wide, too frightened or too surprised to say anything and he just ran off. That had been enough for her that night and she went to bed content.

_What will it be tonight_, she thought. She kept a leisurely pace and her eyes moved among the people, the ships and the buildings around her. Bits of drunken songs and laughter floated in the air. Up ahead she saw a large group of people surrounding what looked like a street performer. The crowd was thick and blocked the square that cut across the path to the foundry district. She craned her neck to see if the performance would be over soon, but she was too short. _Damn tall Northerners_. She started skirting around the edge of the crowd to try to get past. She had to climb on and over the pedestal of a statue of some ugly old magister.

As she jumped down, she saw him. It was the man from the Inn. He was a few meters ahead, also trying to weave his way through the crowd. He looked to be about half a head taller than her, _must be a northerner_, wearing well made black leather armor, gauntlets that covered his fingers and tall black leather boots. Under the cowl he wore, she thought she caught a glimpse of large green eyes reflected in the light of the oil lamps lining the square. He had a massive greatsword strapped to his back. She struggled through the mass of people trying to keep him in sight. He moved like liquid, not at all like your typical greatsword-wielding mercenary. Her curiosity grew with each step and with each step her memory of the odd but not unpleasant sensation he sparked in her grew more vivid. He was heading in the direction of the foundry district and now, so was she.


	3. Chapter 3

_I've always liked a mage-Hawke with rogue tendencies. The kind reviews are so very much appreciated._

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Chapter 3

Fenris clung to the shadows in an alley adjacent to the brothel. For the past several hours he watched the patrons come and go. Drunken dock hands, foundry workers covered in soot and the occasional young noble looking to "slum it" for a night all passed by his gaze unaware. He would wait for as long as it took to catch a glimpse of his quarry, but he was growing restless. This was hardly a direct route to Danarius, but if these slavers truly had plans on hunting Fenris they would at least have information on the terms of his bounty. If he could find out where it could be collected, for instance, this would certainly put him on the right path. Danarius wasn't stupid enough to have direct contact with bounty hunters and Fenris wasn't stupid enough to get anywhere near the magister's estate.

He could not know for sure, but he had his suspicions that Danarius was somehow able to track him. Whether it was some effect of the ritual that branded him or if his former master was able to find him in the fade through his nightmares, he did not know. He did know that if he had any hope of surviving an encounter with the blood mage, Fenris had to assure the circumstances in which they next met gave him some kind of advantage. Attacking a viper in his nest was suicide.

Fenris hung his head for a brief moment and ground his teeth together in concentration. Having to constantly conceal the markings in his skin, both literally and figuratively, was testing the depths of his tolerance. Since coming back to Tevinter, this was the longest he had had to actively resist its _pull. _Every frustration, every painful memory, any stray bit of anger or any other emotion for that matter, had the potential to ignite the lyrium. Succumbing and letting the flames course through him would relieve the constant slow burn of it for a time but, it would also make visible to all what he was. He was fortunate he had not been forced to use its power yet since he returned. He lifted his head and relaxed his jaw. He could bear it for now.

The streets were nearly deserted at this hour and silence had replaced the sounds of nighttime revelry. When he was just about to resign himself to another fruitless endeavor, the door to the brothel opened and three armed and armored humans exited. Fenris stretched his sharp hearing to its limit as he focused his attention on the group. Though he could not understand their words, a familiar prosody and inflection marked them as Antivan. He studied each of them, assuring he would remember every detail about them. Tonight was for observation. He made not a sound as he watched them. He noted the direction they were going and meant to follow them.

Just as they were turning out of his sight, the eyes of one of them slowly met his. Fenris's breath caught in his throat. _He knows I'm here…_but the realization came too late. He felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder from behind and his hood was pulled from his head. Before he could turn on the unexpected attacker or reach for his sword, a searing white hot pain exploded in his chest. He felt his legs crumple and his knees hit the stone of the street. As blackness closed in on his vision, he saw the lyrium flare brightly through his armor.

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Hawke was getting tired of wandering. She had lost sight of the nimble man hours ago, and yet she continued to comb the streets of the foundry district hoping to come upon him. It made no sense to continue a meaningless search for a random stranger but somehow, every time she thought to abandon this venture her gut twisted and her skin tingled in remembrance of the fleeting sensation back at the inn. _What the hell else better do I have to do anyway?_ She bitterly smiled at what now passed for excitement in her life. She found herself on a stone walkway lined with small merchant stalls all empty for the night. She was able to see down into a small square accessible from a series of enclosed staircases up ahead. All was silent as she continued to walk.

She was about to descend the stairs when a low and agonizing moan severed the silence. Her eyes shot downward to the square and her hands made ready her daggers. She leaned cautiously over the low wall and looked for the source of the painful sound. _Maker above, it's him!_ She saw the familiar form in black armor emerge from the shadow of an alley and collapse to his knees on the ground, his greatsword falling uselessly beside him. The cold tactician in her took over and she surveyed the situation in the span of an eye blink:_ Two jumps __onto the__ low roof tops to make it down to the square. Four cloaked figures attacking a now unarmed...elf. He's an elf? Unexpected...Two attackers in plate armor under their cloaks and armed with sword and __shield__. Can't see the __sigil__ on their __shields__. Two attackers are __mages__. S_he felt their magic take root in the air around her and she smelled the blood fueling it. _But there's something else_. She took the two jumps and landed in the square. _One of the __mages__ has their hands on him, kill him first. _She flipped one of her daggers in her hand, drew back her arm and flung it at the attacking blood mage. She didn't see the dagger find its mark directly in the maleficar's left eye because the "something else" she felt suddenly filled all of her senses and she was shocked into immobility.

_Lyrium__. Holy Maker, its __lyrium__. _Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide as she stared at the elf on his knees. The light of dozens of intricate lines shone through the black leather armor covering him and she _felt _what it was before her eyes even registered the sight. _He's covered in __lyrium__..._

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Suddenly, the magic piercing through him receded. He swallowed the remnants of the searing pain and rounded on his attacker. He let the familiar burn of his lyrium flow and focus into his hand. His fist closed around the power channeled there and it found its home inside the chest of the one who had come up behind him. Only when he pulled his hand free did he notice the dagger embedded in the eye of the now twice dead mage.

In one swift movement he picked up his sword with the hand now drenched in his enemy's blood and swung out at a flanking figure closing in on him. He let his lyrium take over and was rewarded with a feeling of sweet release. His heavy blade made contact with a shield and he leaned forward into the blow causing the shield's owner to fall backward with a clatter of metal on stone. With two hands now, Fenris brought the greatsword up and plunged it into the chest of the man on the ground. Sick satisfaction washed over him as he felt his weapon pierce through metal, skin, muscle and bone. _Two down, _he counted and he freed his sword from the second victim. He made ready to strike out at his next opponent when he saw her.

Several meters away from him, a human woman, slight of build and pale of skin, seemed to dance in the moonlight. She wielded a dagger with deadly effect against another large armored man. She slipped under and away from each swing of the lumbering form's sword. She skillfully separated him from his shield with a quick slice down his arm and another swipe of her blade at his opposite wrist robbed him of his sword as well. Fenris could have sworn he heard lilting laughter when she stabbed her weapon upward into the small slit of unarmored flesh under his chin. She released her blade and jumped backwards avoiding the fountain of blood that spewed forth from the dead man's mouth as he collapsed in front of her.

"Elf! Behind you!" Fenris blinked. The woman was looking at him. At the same time her shouts registered in his mind, he felt his stomach turn at the foul feeling of magic taking form. He turned quickly to see two ethereal Shades manifest behind him. He swung out at them and felt his blade pass through them both in one clean arc. With a loud crack rending the air, they dissolved out of existence. Fenris swung back around, sword at the ready, when he heard a choked cry. The other mage, presumably the one who summoned the Shades, had the woman lifted in the air and was holding her by her throat. Black tendrils of magic swirled around her form as she struggled. Her dagger was missing from her hands as they clawed at the arm of her assailant.

He had no idea who this woman was, but given the choice between a stranger and a blood mage, he chose to aid the stranger and kill the blood mage. He had taken but one step towards the pair when he again was held captive by the woman's actions.

He saw her suddenly go still and as she pulled one of her hands up into the air a single point of light began to grow inside her open palm. The light quickly and brilliantly expanded, enveloping both her and the hooded figure holding her aloft. Fenris _felt_ more than saw the white glow push away the blood mage's dark magic. Just as he thought he must turn away from the brightness stinging his eyes, it seemed to implode in on itself. The hooded mage was thrown backward against the stone wall of a building and then fell to the ground, landing in a lifeless heap of broken bones. Simultaneously, the dark haired woman landed softly on the balls of her feet, and he saw a deadly beautiful smile spread across her face.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The night was silent once more. Hawke took a deep and calming breath. The magic inside her was pulsing with the elf's glowing lyrium and she had to focus to settle it. When she was in control again, she looked up at her enigmatic accomplice and offered him a victory smile.

If she expected him to mirror her happy exhilaration she was quickly disavowed of that delusion when his face twisted in hatred and he lunged at her. His greatsword lay forgotten on the ground and he was upon her faster than her mind could process the movement. One hand had her by the throat and the other captured her right arm. She was forced backward off her feet and unceremoniously slammed against a nearby wall. He had her arm pinned above her and the hand at her throat was replaced by his forearm under her chin, his spiked gauntlet cutting into her neck. He pushed himself nearly flush against her and she was trapped between him and the wall.

She couldn't breathe and her head spun. The physical contact with him was overwhelming any ability she might have had to fight back or free herself normally. She dare not use magic despite the burning need she suddenly felt to do so. She fought the furious pull of the lyrium surrounding her. _Control, control._ She chanted in her head.

"Who are you, _mage?_" He spit the words at her and they dripped with venom. "Did he send you? Answer me or die!" He relaxed the hand at her neck just enough to allow her to follow his command.

"I wasn't sent by anyone!" she choked out. Her fortitude was beginning to win out over the wild abandon of the lyrium. Her head was rapidly clearing and she was able to clamp down on the magic that, a moment ago, wanted to pour out of her. Unfortunately she was now aware that she was still unable to breathe. "I _helped_ you" she pleaded.

She looked directly into his eyes, large and deep green, just as she thought she had seen earlier in the evening. She tried to convey a calm honesty in her gaze, silently asking him to believe that she had no ill intentions. His face looked conflicted. His lips were pulled into a feral snarl that did not believe her but his deeply furrowed brow seemed to want to give her a chance. She studied his face more. He had a proud looking aquiline nose and angular jaw. Exposed white lines of lyrium snaked up his neck to his chin. White hair fell carelessly around the elegant points of his ears and forward in front of his eyes.

He continued to match her gaze. His arm relaxed another small measure, but he did not release her from the wall. A moment passed in silence and light from the full moons trickled down through passing clouds.

"You are not from here. I recognize you. You are the woman I passed at the inn." He seemed wary, but no longer openly hostile. "Now who are you?"

"My name is Marian," The woman called "Hawke" was a hunted fugitive, and she could no more take a chance on this elf than he could apparently take on her, at least for the present. The woman called "Marian" was an anonymous apostate, and anyone who once called Hawke by that name was long dead. "and, no, I'm not from here. Is this how you thank someone for saving your life in the Imperium?"

He released her and took a step back, but did not step aside. The lyrium in his skin still faintly pulsed with light. He seemed to be satisfied for the moment that she was not going to attack him with a ball of fire or summon a demon. "Your southern accent gives you away. That, and you are very short for a human." His tone was impassive.

Insult to injury then. Fine. "So you trust that the kind hearted apostate who saved you from blood mages means you no harm?" She allowed herself a bit of cattiness in the remark. "And you are very tall for an elf."

"Hmpf" He scoffed, still staring her down. "There are no 'apostates' in Tevinter. As you can see _your kind_ lives unchecked here." He gestured to the dead bodies behind them.

More insults. Yet he was still speaking with her, which was very telling. She was beginning to feel that his curiosity was overcoming his fearful suspicions. She would let the invective pass. "Care to tell me who _you_ are and why I had to murder three people this evening?"

He had the decency to look slightly apologetic. "I do not wish to appear ungrateful. My name is Fenris. I do not know these men but I can assume they were sent to re-capture me.

"Does that make you an escaped criminal or an escaped slave?"

"I am not a slave!" His lyrium pulsed angrily and he took a step forward.

Hawke backed up against the wall again and held up her hands in capitulation. "I meant no offense. I'm Ferelden. Slavery disgusts me as much as blood magic. I _helped_ you. And I'm happy to have done it if these were slavers and blood mages." He took a step back, pulsing light growing less. "Care to tell me about…anything else…?"

He offered another suspicious glare and then lowered his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure I must look strange to you. I owe you thanks. It is not often I have met someone who would help another without thought of gain. I am willing to speak further, but it is nearly dawn and we cannot remain here."

She offered him a warm smile. "Then let's pilfer the bodies and we can go back to the Sword and Sovereign. I have a room there."

"As do I but…" He looked all around them furtively. Hawke saw him fighting between the urge to flee and the urge to join her.

"No one saw our little tussle here. If you put your hood on and we go back together, nothing will seem amiss. Can you…quiet the lyrium down?" She was hesitant to ask it.

"How did you…" Of course he meant to ask how she knew what the substance was but she cut him off with a self deprecating smile.

She gestured to herself as she said "_Filthy mage_, remember?" He paused and took a breath, then nodded his assent to accompany her back to the inn.

They both moved to collect what they could from their victims. Casually, and before she could stop herself she said "You know, under different circumstances this might have been romantic. A mysterious and handsome elf, pinning me up against a wall under the moonlight…"

xxxx

Fenris stopped, half bent over a dead body, and looked up at her. "I'm...sorry?" He managed to stammer. Did he hear her correctly?

"Too soon for flirtatious teasing? Sorry." She let out a light embarrassed laugh as she continued to search the bodies. Fenris frowned and his eyes followed her. She leaned over the dead mage with a dagger in his eye and a hole in his chest. She retrieved said dagger as casually as if she was lifting a knife from her dinner plate.

His bloodlust for Danarius had caused him to grow reckless and he almost paid dearly for it tonight. Almost, but for this "kind hearted apostate". His frown deepened and he continued to observe her. She was cleaning her blades on the cloak of another one of their victims. The diminutive woman before him seemed equal parts dangerous and ridiculous. He could think of no reason to trust this _mage_. Yet he told her his name and agreed to follow her. _Why?_ For at least the third time tonight he found himself...curious? Intrigued? Captivated? She walked with an easy smile on her face. As he studied her, he recalled a night in Ferelden when he was able to rest safely and sleep undisturbed by the deep and placid waters of Lake Calenhad. The sensation it gave him was not so much a _feeling _as it was the absence of his ever present fearful vigilance.

"Fenris, I know this sigil." He was roused from his reverie and he looked at the shield she held up to him. He could not remember ever having seen its like among the noble families in the city.

"This is a foreign crest. How do you know it?"

"I saw it on a...ship...the other night...at the east docks..." She clearly was hiding something. He stood to his full height and took one menacing step forward. So much for trusting a mage.

"Alright, stop! Look, I don't want to lie to you, but I need your word you will keep what I tell you in confidence. Agreed?"

She would accept his _word_? "Agreed" he said with some disbelief.

He noticed her fine features pull into a guilty looking frown. "I saw this on a slaver ship. When I first arrived here not too long ago I saw them unloading a shipment of slaves. The other night, I snuck aboard and killed several of the crew left to tend the ship. I remember seeing this sigil on a small chest that held some of their ill gotten gold..."

She was still holding something back. "And...?" He urged her on impatiently.

"And I threw the chest in the sea and set the ship on fire."

"That was _you?" _Fenris had watched that ship burn from a nearby rooftop. He remembered allowing himself an unabashed grin as people scurried about trying to put out the fire and salvage the slaver ship to no avail. _One less stain in the world_, he had thought to himself at the time, and she was responsible. He was incredulous. "What would possess you to do such a thing?"

"In order of import: Slavery is wrong. This city needs cleaning up. I was bored." She said defensively, itemizing the list on her fingers. "Look, I did not exactly come to Minrathous entirely by choice. I'm running from my own demons if you must know. _No mage puns intended." _Her eyes narrowed at him. "But since I'm here, I thought I would make the best of it."

He studied the woman and the shield. The woman remained an enigma. The shield very obviously represented a conspiracy against him. The group that attacked them, the Ativans from the brothel and, as always at the top, his former master. It was possible the seedy dwarf was also involved. He was the one who tipped him off to this location in the first place.

He would hunt them all down. But the dwarf had made a valid point. A dangerous hunt required a partner. Before he had time to regret it, Fenris said "Perhaps we can be of assistance to each other."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Their walk back to the inn was blessedly uneventful. Fenris hid his face under his hood, kept his head down and followed a little behind the woman, Marian. He silently cursed the irony of once again walking the streets of Minrathous with his head bowed following obediently behind a mage. _This is not Danarius and I am a free man,_ he kept repeating to himself. As much as he knew this to be true, he also knew how dangerously simple it was to fall back into old slave habits. _I will take from this woman what I need, use her as I must and be done with her, _he added to his chant.

He was still amazed he had allowed himself to continue this involvement with her at all. He felt like he was walking along a knife's edge; on one side was his profound distrust of anyone, let alone a mage, and on the other side was his morbid fascination with her. This staff-less mage who used daggers before magic. This foreigner who murdered slavers simply because they ran contrary to her morals. This _woman_ who burned ships into the sea in a fit of ennui. Fenris' thoughts swayed back and forth between his conflicting emotions as they walked. It took him completely by surprise when he realized that as his mind struggled, his eyes were unconsciously swaying back and forth with the motion of her hips in front of him.

Keen observation was a skill on which he prided himself and one that had kept him alive more times than his greatsword and his lyrium fueled fists combined. But he could not reason how it would keep him alive to notice the sway of her hips, or the black sheen of her hair in the dawn sun contrasted against her pale skin, or the lithe way her legs moved inside the supple leather she wore...

"Is that alright with you Fenris?"

Had she been speaking to him? "I'm sorry, I did not hear you. What did you say?" They had reached the inn and were standing in the doorway. The sun had brilliantly risen and salt air wafted in his nose with the breeze.

"I thought elves were supposed to have _good_ hearing."

She smirked and raised a single eyebrow at him.

He narrowed his eyes and scowled at her.

She continued. "I was saying that rather than you simply going back to your room to go about your business, we should take some precautions in case someone comes looking for you here. I have an arrangement of sorts with the innkeeper. Let me speak with him. Is that alright with you?"

"Yes, fine let's just be quick about it and get inside before someone notices us." He waved her on impatiently and followed her inside.

The light in the main room was dim with only a few streaks entering from the shuttered windows. A young girl swept the floor and the innkeeper was working in his books at the bar. Marian walked confidently up to him and produced a small bag of coin from somewhere on her person. Fenris could not possibly imagine where it had come from. There certainly did not appear to have been room in her skin tight leathers for it. Unfortunately, she looked his way as he pondered the minor mystery and seemed to realize exactly what he was thinking. She winked at him; one corner of her mouth lifted up in a sly smile, and then she turned back to the bar.

"What can I do for you today, my dear?" The innkeeper was a middle aged man, broadly built and heavily bearded. He greeted Marian warmly. She dropped the coin purse in front of him.

"This elf no longer exists." She said flatly, gesturing to Fenris. "In fact, he never existed. I'll keep both our rooms on my tab for the foreseeable future with our previous arrangement of 'no questions asked or answered'. Agreed?" Fenris noted that though the last was phrased as a question, the tone she used did not quite leave an option for refusal.

"Agreed" came the reply. "Have fun." With that, the innkeeper swiped the coin purse off the bar. Marian walked leisurely to the stairs that led to the rented rooms.

"Coming?" she asked him when she noticed he was still standing by the bar.

The innkeeper gave Fenris a wink and a smile that somehow made him feel dirty. He moved to follow Marian upstairs.

"This is my room." Amazingly, she stopped in front of the door right next to his own. How had he not seen her before?

"That was your plan? Bribery? How can you be so sure he is to be trusted?" He sounded harsher than he had meant to.

"You don't know how much I bribed him with. Andraste herself could show up asking for you and he'd keep his mouth shut, trust me. Besides, I have a pirate friend who recommended this inn to me for the very reason that he _can_ be trusted."

Fenris pinched his eyes shut with one hand in a pained gesture. "You have a _pirate_ friend? You're risking both our lives on the word of a _pirate_?"

She did not appear to be offended, but she also did not answer the question. "Why don't we switch rooms for now then, if you're still worried? I would like to get a little sleep and rather than go out half cocked looking for people to kill, I happen to know Corbin will be here tonight to play cards and get drunk. We can question him then. And if he doesn't show, we know he was involved and then we can go off half cocked to kill him."

"How do you know the dwarf will be here?"

"Because his thief's pride was hurt when he lost five sovereigns to me the other night so he's bound to try to win it back. Or steal it back, as the case may be."

Fenris let out an exhausted sigh. This woman seemed to require a great deal of his energy to deal with, but he wasn't sure why. "Fine. My room is right here." He pointed to the next door.

"Excellent!" They exchanged keys, and she immediately entered his room. "Just yell if something happens, and if I smell blood magic I'll be over to help before the demons even materialize." And with that, she left him alone in the hall with her key and his bewilderment.

Fenris entered her room. Clothes and bits of light armor were strewn about. A few books lay open on a small table and a few others had daggers folded in them appearing as if they were marking her place. Everything in this area of the city tended to smell like sea salt and fish, but somehow her room smelled of orchids. The bed was unmade and the shutters on the small window were closed.

"Foolish woman" he said to himself and he immediately began searching though everything. The clothes were of simple and practical design but well made. He was able to piece together one full set of leather armor reinforced with a small steel breastplate and matching gauntlets, pauldrens and greaves. He absently thought that this would have served her better in the fight last night than the simple leathers she had worn. _It is not as if a mage needs armor in the first place_, he mused.

He scowled at the pile of books. Unable to read the words, those tombs could have been full of blood magic rituals, and he would never know. He moved past the painful reminder of his ignorance and came upon a long chest in the corner. There was only a simple lock on it and there did not appear to be any magic wards protecting it. "Foolish" he said again, and he picked the lock.

The chest was full of random items. There were several more large books. He tossed them aside. He pulled out a silverite staff, _so the mage does have a staff_. Decades of age showed on it but it seemed to have been well cared for and still in good condition. A small box held a signet ring, like those belonging to noble families but the crest on it was not of imperial origin. There were two small portraits in simple frames. One depicted a woman with similar features to Marian; beautiful but, with less intrigue in the eyes, her appearance seemed less...interesting to him than Marian's. The other was of a man, likely related, with dark hair and a serious but slightly empty looking expression. Fenris waded through more flotsam: loose coins, a deck of cards, several finely made dresses, an amulet with a likeness of Andraste, a piece of a Halla's horn carved into the form of a hawk. He was beginning to think he would find nothing that would give him insight into the true intentions of the woman who so freely offered her aid to him.

Then he saw it. At the very bottom of the chest was a Qunari greatsword. The red steel and wicked design was unmistakable. A warrior of the Qun did _not_ surrender his blade in life or death. He set down his own sword and hefted the Qunari weapon. It was well balanced and had been well used. There could be no possible way she could have stolen this weapon. It was even less likely that she had killed the warrior to whom it belonged and taken it from his corpse. He doubted she was even able to lift it. And it was impossible for her to have won it in single combat.

He put the blade down and sat on the bed. He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. Finding a Qunari sword among her belongings was bizarre to say the least, but it was not exactly the incriminating evidence he had thought to find. He was tired, but his fatigue was not physical. This woman had his mind spinning with questions. He lifted his head and looked at the few possessions and mementos of the person who had helped him that he had scattered carelessly about the room. He felt remorse knot in his stomach. She had given him no reason to be so doubtful of her. Could he no longer behave as a grateful and civilized person should? Would he always be a beast on the run? It occurred to him that rather than speculate about Marian's past in paranoid frenzy he might set aside his distrust and simply ask her about it.

xxxx

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Hawke had turned the small room inside out and upside down looking for something that would teach her more about the mysterious elf. He appeared to have not one possession that he was not already carrying on his person. She took a delicious moment to imagine _searching_ said person, after which she scoffed at her own ridiculous behavior.

She sat on the bed. About halfway through their walk back to the inn, and after her heart stopped pounding in her chest, it suddenly occurred to her why she was so fascinated by the elf. It wasn't the lyrium at all; however, she desperately wanted to know more about that. For some reason he walked behind her the whole way, and she could feel his eyes boring into her from behind. It was then that it hit her. She was _aroused_. From that first fleeting sensation when he barely brushed her as she fell, to the wild chaos that spun in her head when he had her by the throat against a wall and his lyrium pulsed around her, it was pure and intense arousal. She was no blushing chantry sister, but nor was she like Isabela taking her pleasure wherever the opportunity presented itself. She could not recall ever being so affected in this way.

She closed her eyes and sad memories of Anders came to her. She had never been sure if she really loved him, but she had cared for him deeply. He reminded her so much of her father. They fell into such an easy connection and as her beloved family kept getting taken away from her she was so very lonely it was all too simple to let him comfort her. The best of him was selfless and kind. The worst of him was a liar and murderer of innocents. As time passed she knew he was becoming unstable, too many years of the spirit's thoughts carving away at his mind. But she stubbornly did nothing, thinking she could protect him from himself, thinking she could protect others from him, selfishly thinking she could not bear to lose one more person. He knew she would do it. He knew she could not let his crime go unpunished, that she would be the one to martyr him, which is what he wanted all along.

_In the past, it's in the past. Focus forward. _It occurred to her that when she did focus forward she saw Fenris. Anders had been a dangerous dalliance. She had known Fenris for less than a day and though she knew next to nothing about him, it was as if his lyrium was burning inside her as well, so strong was his allure. She could not explain it, but she did not even want to try. She just wanted to _feel_ it. She curled upon the bed and when sleep took her she felt as if she were perilously falling into an abyss.


	6. Chapter 6

_It is so easy to get lost inside Hawke and Fenris' thoughts!_

xxxx

Chapter 6

For the first time in as far back as his fractured memories went, Fenris did _not_ have a nightmare. He awoke to find himself lying sprawled upon her bed. He thought he would simply sit there for a bit to rest his eyes. The shutters on the window remained closed and the heat of midday lay stagnant in the small room that smelled of orchids. He must have been lulled to sleep, though he also could not remember _that_ ever happening before either. He sat up and rubbed his eyes trying to recall his dream. He had dreamt of her. He remembered flashes of a dagger in the moonlight. He remembered laughter and a beautiful smile directed at him. Those things did actually happen, but when he remembered seeing them in his dream it felt different somehow. He felt different somehow. Not like when he was fighting beside her, but as if he was just watching her calmly. Enjoying her. He shook his head and growled. _Distracted! You are too distracted by this woman!_ He chastised himself bitterly, as a knock came at the door.

Fenris shot out of the bed and his sword was in his hand in an instant.

"It's Marian. Can you let me in?" He took a deep breath, paused, and then opened the door. She stood in the doorway and smiled at him. She was holding two apples. She took a bite out of one and handed him the other. Sword still in hand he just stood and stared at her. For the briefest of moments, his breath caught in his throat. Her wide eyes were radiant and her dark hair hung loose around her face. Was he seeing her as she had looked in his dream? Were heated memories from the Fade coloring his impression of her?

"Slavers probably wouldn't knock." She nodded her head at his sword. _Nor would they be as beautiful_, the thought came to him unbidden and he blinked trying to dislodge it from his head. "Aren't you hungry?" She waved the apple at him. He took it from her hand and stepped aside so she could enter the room. After he closed the door behind them, he turned and saw her looking around at the dozens of items scattered about. He did not have time to make excuses about the state of her belongings when she started laughing. Loud, free, full laugher shook her shoulders and her hair spilled down her back as her head tilted up, eyes closed in giddy amusement.

He opened his mouth eager to apologize, but she turned and lifted her hand to his face. He reflexively took a step back avoiding the touch. She seemed to choose not to acknowledge his avoidance. She simply slowed her movement, extended one finger and let it rest softly upon his open lips.

Shocked by his own inaction, he just let her do it. The feel of her finger on his mouth was surprising in its lack of anything he had come to expect from being touched. It was not painful. It did not cause the lines of lyrium in his chin to burn. It did not bring to mind any of the unpleasant sensations that physical contact had always brought him in the past. It was just _there, _as if it should be there. Another willful involuntary thought floated to the front of his mind; _if I shift my tongue I could taste her. _He had to make a conscious effort to hold his tongue inside his mouth so as not to act on the impulse.

"So what did you learn?" She took her finger from his lips and moved to sit cross-legged on the bed.

"It was not my intention..." Luckily she interrupted him, because he really was not sure what he was going to say.

"It's alright. I did the same thing. But you already know what I learned about you."

"Nothing." he replied.

"Yes, but that in itself was very telling." She looked at him as if she knew something about him that even he did not know. He was torn between anger and a ludicrous hope that maybe she could tell him something about himself. He was beginning to feel unsettled. Never before had he felt so undisciplined. His thoughts lacked focus around this woman. Strange musings appeared in his head, bizarre impulses he had to fight. He was not himself.

For the next few moments she did nothing but sit in silence, eating her apple and staring at him, patiently waiting for he knew not what. Did she expect him to speak? He felt he was starting down an unfamiliar road. How had he come to taking assistance from a mage? How had fate placed him here, alone with her, allowing himself to be _touched, _conversing easily and calmly as if he was not living on borrowed time? He grew more uncomfortable under her gaze. Thankfully, she spoke.

"I won't ask you to tell me any secrets about yourself you don't wish to share. As for me, you've looked through all of my secrets already, but if I had to guess, all you learned was that you have more questions". She finished her apple and tossed it into the long chest in the corner, now empty of its contents. "I would rather you have all your questions answered about me, so I can move forward knowing I have not deceived you in anyway." _She_ did not appear discomfited in the least. _He_ felt his heartbeat rise and sweat form on the back of his neck.

"If you're willing to listen, then sit and eat your apple." Part of him was relieved at the command. Commands were simple, and he sat.

"I'm going to tell you many things that I should not, but I'm going to trust you won't betray me. If you're willing to tell me more about yourself after that," she smiled a warm and genuine smile, not once breaking contact with his eyes, "well, then my risk will have been worth it."

xxxx

She told him everything. To this stranger, this mage-hating stranger, she told everything. Things she had not spoken of in years, things that could get her killed, things that could get her made tranquil_,_ passed effortlessly from her lips. To his credit, he sat and silently absorbed it all with an undisturbed expression on his handsome face. He even ate the apple she brought him. She spoke of her father training her as a child. She told him of her family and how she lost each one of them. She spoke of Fereldon and the blight, Kirkwall and the friends and enemies it held. She told him about the Circle and the templars and the lover she killed; she told him the story behind the Qunari sword.

"I impaled myself on that greatsword you know. It was the only way to get close enough to him. My blades were woefully inadequate. We fought for so long, my magic was exhausted. He never even saw the knife I slit his throat with. Never let your enemy see your last blade." She couldn't help herself from grinning wickedly. She saw Fenris' mouth twitch slightly as if he wanted to speak. She paused wanting to hear something, anything that gave her some impression of what his thoughts were.

"If given the choice he would have seen you collared." He spoke with not an ounce of inflection. But she was starting to be able to read him. She was beginning to realize this strange arousal she felt was not one-sided. Perhaps his was buried under many layers of tragedy and hate, but definitely _not_ one-sided.

"Actually, he didn't even know I was a mage until the duel started. I'm sure if he had he would never have suggested we duel in the first place. He must have felt terribly disgraced having to fight the likes of a mage. I have a horrid scar." She straightened and stuck her chest out, resting a hand beneath her breasts. "There are some things even magic can't heal entirely."

There was nothing left to tell. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. When she opened them and looked his way, he was staring at the floor, looking for all the world as if he were brooding about something.

"So you have a choice. You can go find some templars and give me up to them, or we can go downstairs and resume the hunt for the people who are hunting you, _together_. I still offer my help freely, but I won't deny I would appreciate another sword between me and the rite of tranquility if it ever comes to that."

"Why did you tell me all of these things?" His eyes remained locked on the floorboards.

"Knowledge is power, Fenris. Now you have power over me. It seemed to be the fastest way to get you to trust me and I didn't think you would continue to keep my company if you didn't trust me. And I'm very attracted to you...so...there's that too."

He looked up from the floorboards at that. The mouth she touched earlier was just barely open. His stoic face showed the faintest blush of utter confusion. _But not disgust, _she triumphantly thought to herself, _definitely not disgust._

xxxx

_A sane man would run from this room._ Clearly, Fenris was mad. She was right. The damn mage was right. He _did_ trust her. He listened with rapt attention at the unbelievable story she told. Unbelievable if not for the many rumors about the woman called Hawke Fenris had heard, many times and in many places that corroborated her telling. He had passed through Kirkwall briefly once several years ago; avoided a group of hunters there. He did not even spend one night inside the city. It had reminded him too much of _this_ one.

Against all reason he was compelled to trust her. It was entirely possible that she would attempt to strike him down with a bolt of lightning as soon as take a breath. And yet something inside him was whispering that this was not the case. Something inside him, some instinct told him to trust her as she apparently trusted him. Not only that but she asked for his help if the time came. That same small voice inside was now telling him that he _should_ look after her. He _needed_ to look after her. She didn't know Minrathous like he did. She was ignorant to the depths of depravity and the peril permeating the very air they breathed here.

He was clearly mad. He had seen this woman kill; he had heard how she took down an Arishok, _an Arishok! _Why in the Maker's name did she think she needed his protection? The voice was getting louder now, telling him that his instincts to survive had never steered him wrong, and now those instincts were screaming that his survival depended on her survival. For all the sharpness of her blades and the fire she wielded at her fingertips, as she sat now quiet before him, she seemed small and innocent, and _beautiful. _He was losing all control of his own thoughts and the scent of orchids floated past him again. He should run. And yet, he found his feet would not lift from the floor and his eyes would not part from hers, so large and looking at him so patiently.

"Excellent, let's go then" She stood up and actually left the room seeming to assume he would follow. He had not said a word. When did she realize his capitulation? Was his inner monologue so obvious to her? Without another thought, the feet that had refused to move from the floor but moments ago carried him to the door to follow behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you for reading!_

_xxxx_

Chapter 7

Hawke smugly noted Fenris's footfalls behind her. For now, she thought it best not to gloat over his surrender. She imagined it could not have been easy for him. Dusk had settled upon Minrathous while they were talking and the sounds of evening business carried up from the bar room below. Before descending the stairs, she turned abruptly and stopped Fenris with her hand on his chest. _He did not step back this time_, another smug notation.

"Let me go down first. If he's here I should approach him alone. If he was involved, he'll run if he sees you. Give me a bit of time, and then come down. We'll be at the table where you pushed me over, he always sits there."

Fenris rolled his eyes at her. "I did not _push you over_, you fell. After seeing you fight, I would have thought you would be more agile."

"Does that mean you've pondered how agile I might be?" Hand still on his chest, Hawke leaned into him slightly and narrowed her eyes suggestively.

"How do you expect me to respond to these ridiculous statements?" Fenris spoke softly. Rather than sounding like an admonition, it almost sounded as if he was looking for a real answer.

"They aren't ridiculous if they're sincere." That was all the guidance he was going to get for now. She patted him once on the chest and went downstairs alone.

As predicted, the thief was sitting at the same table shuffling a deck of cards. Hawke casually took a seat beside him.

"Good, I want the chance to win my coin back human." He started dealing cards to her.

"Actually, Corbin, I was hoping you might have a tip on a job for me."

"Well...I don't know..."

Hawke put five sovereigns on the table in front of the dwarf, which he swiped up greedily. "I hope you know this was the _only_ way you could have gotten your coin back." Hawke folded her arms and continued. "I heard about a high priced bounty for some elf whose been giving the run around to more than a few clumsy fools calling themselves hunters. Thought I'd give it a go. Know anything about it?"

"Sorry, but you're too late," He paused to take a sip from his mug when his chair was kicked from behind and a mouthful of ale sprayed towards Hawke. She leaned back to avoid it, nodding her head in the direction of the stairs to Fenris, who had silently appeared behind the dwarf. Hawke stood up leisurely, taking the mug of ale with her. Fenris lifted Corbin by one arm and dragged him upstairs after her. On the way, they passed the bearded innkeeper. Hawke raised the mug to him in greeting without stopping. She felt Fenris hesitate behind her, the dwarf struggling to escape his grip. He appeared to be wondering how far this innkeeper's indifference went. The innkeeper simply gave Fenris another lewd wink and walked away.

Hawke opened the door to Fenris's room and sat on the bed. The elf followed close behind, dwarf in tow. Fenris threw him into a chair in front of Hawke, and then he pulled a wicked looking knife from his boot and positioned it at the dwarf's throat. Hawke took a drink from the mug of ale.

"Too late, am I?" She said as Corbin looked anxiously back and forth between the elf and the human. "Listen dwarf, you don't have to die tonight. But if my friend doesn't get the information he needs..."

"Y..y..you two are working together?" He stammered, knife creeping closer to his throat. "Who are you anyway?" He asked Hawke.

"We _are_ working together and I am no one to be trifled with." Hawke's voice lost its easy good humor and took on a sharp edge. She set down the ale and extended her open palm to the dwarf. A flame appeared in it, flickering orange, then blue, then white. Sweat beaded on the thief's brow, but whether it was from Hawke's fire or Fenris's knife, she couldn't tell.

Fenris put his knife away, letting Hawke handle the intimidation so he could ask the questions. "Who recruited you to lure me to that brothel?"

"Some humans from Kirkwall..." The sweating dwarf replied eagerly.

Hawke's flame briefly wavered. "Kirkwall...? She said, more to herself than to the two in the room with her.

"I swear I didn't know you were the fugitive they were looking for until this morning when I heard about the dead bodies near the foundries! I just thought they wanted to take out a rival hunter. I thought you were a mercenary! How many slaves do you know who look like...that!?" He pointed indignantly at Fenris. "When I found out they were dead, I didn't want anyone coming after me thinking I tipped _you_ off to _them._ I was about to pack my bags and get out of the city when I heard the real story. They work for some Tevinter merchant living in Kirkwall, trading out of the Free Marches. A high-up magister offered the merchant some exclusive business in exchange for...well..._you_."

Fenris punched him in the face.

"Hey!" Corbin complained sorely. Hawke had trouble holding back a laugh as the dwarf tried to stop up his bleeding nose. "I'm giving you good information here elf!

"Just keep taking and I may not do it again." Fenris growled. The dwarf looked at Hawke with a pleading expression. She just shrugged.

Corbin continued. "The Marchers lost their ship in that fire down at the east docks," Fenris sent a withering glare towards Hawke at the mention of the fire. She pretended not to notice. "So they cut a deal with the Antivan group, who incidentally did try to capture you in Fereldon just like I told you before. They would share some of the bounty in exchange for the Antivans' help bringing you in and then for passage back to Kirkwall."

Hawke rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. Following this scheming was giving her a headache. Not everyone was as direct as she preferred. She needed some clarification. "So if they already knew my partner here was in Minrathous, what in the Fade did they need you for?"

"Your friend had me asking around for information on any open bounties and bounty hunters tend to be a territorial bunch. I found myself in a situation similar to this one." He looked accusingly at Fenris. Fenris looked as if he would punch him again, so the dwarf put up his hands in defense. Hawke shook her head at Fenris.

"Just let him finish, so we aren't here all night." Fenris backed down but kept his fist clenched.

"They thought I was trying to weasel in on their prize. I ended up telling them I was gathering information for the elf. I just thought they wanted to set you up to get you out of the running. They told me what to say and where to send you. Like I said, I didn't know you were the target until this morning. When I found out, I thought it likely you already moved on."

Having heard enough, Hawke took over the conversation. "Well, he did not move on, and it's time the tables were tuned on these hunters. We know the Antivans are still alive, but do you know how many Marchers were working with them?"

"I don't know exactly. It was a large group. And before you ask I don't know where to find them either." Corbin sat back in his chair with a sullen expression. Fenris started to pull his knife back out. Hawke stood up and stilled his hand.

"There's no point in killing him now. He can't do any more damage. Besides, if anyone else questions him, he's going to tell them that you've acquired the assistance of a very dangerous mage. I hear that means something in this city." Though the words were softly spoken, the look in Hawke's eyes would leave no one doubting their truth.

xxxx

Marian Hawke produced a handkerchief from one of her pockets and dipped it in the washbasin in the corner of the small room. She handed it to Fenris.

"You have dwarf blood on you." She reclined on the bed, propped up on her elbows.

He absently took it from her and cleaned off his knuckles. They were alone in the room, the dwarf having just slithered back down to the bar. Fenris sat. Corbin was more forthcoming with the information than he had expected. Danarius knew he was in the city all along and had time to plan his capture. He was starting to feel as if the sea was closing in around him and he hoped drowning was not his only option. His determination to take the fight to his former master had not lessened, but his fears now carried a sense of inevitability that was becoming difficult for him to dismiss.

Once again, Marian seemed to read his thoughts. "We're not trying to push back the tide, you know. We're just going to kill a few slavers. Do you know where the two blood mages might have come from that were helping them?"

Fenris sneered. "Undoubtedly they were provided by my former master, the magister the dwarf spoke of. His name is Danarius. He is an imperial senator and one of the most powerful mages in Tevinter." Fenris studied Hawke. Her full lips were pursed and she wore a serious expression. He knew exactly what she _wasn't_ asking him. She was keeping her promise not to ask him to reveal his secrets. Her deliberate silence was meaningful. It allowed him the choice to share things with her on his own terms. Choice. Self determination. These were novelties in his world, but he was finding them to be a welcome change. The refreshing sensation these new concepts brought upon him, coupled with the fact that she had already told him nearly everything about herself, spurred him on.

"There are few mages with skill enough to perform the ritual that gave me these markings. He was one of them." Fenris could taste the bitter anger in his mouth as he spoke the words and the constant burn in his skin seemed to flare.

"It would seem to me that there are few people with strength enough to survive the ritual that gave you those markings." Fenris considered her words. It never occurred to him to think of his disfigurement as a badge of strength. The burn of the lines calmed the faintest amount.

She seemed satisfied with the small bit of himself that he had shared with her. Her face relaxed back into her easy smile and he watched her lips as she continued to speak. "Any idea what this business deal might be between the merchant in Kirkwall and Danarius? I wish I knew who this merchant was, but I'm sure it's obvious I wasn't invited to associate with many of the Kirkwall elite. I generally just tried to exist without causing them too much offense." She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue as if to mock the memory.

"When it comes to it, there are only two commodities a magister would concern himself with: slaves and lyrium."

"Hmmm." Marian sighed and looked at the ceiling, lost in thought. "I can only imagine the chantry has clamped down on the lyrium shipments to the free marches after...well, _after._..I don't know about Starkhaven, but I happen to know that Kirkwall has a morally incorruptible guard captain who had all but obliterated the smaller smuggling operations there as well as most of the illicit slave trade. But if the Templars are still struggling to control the mage population, that will be a distraction to law enforcement. Perhaps this merchant approached Danarius, or perhaps it was the other way around. They could corner the market."

Fenris felt his gut twist. Danarius obviously had other goals outside of simply re-acquiring his lost bodyguard. But his suspicion was too much to share with Marian, too soon. He bit his tongue and remained silent.

Marian jumped up from the bed with purpose. "Speculation on motive aside, we still have to deal with these hunters, and we really only have one lead on how to find them, before they find us." Fenris rose from his chair. It was not lost on him that _he_ was now _us,_ and surprisingly he was perfectly content with that. He was content to follow her lead; content to have someone watch his back and content to do the same. _Contentment_, another novel concept he would need time to absorb. He wondered at the fact that when dawn broke on this day he was cursing himself for following this mage. Now, as the sun set he found himself content to hover near her, like a moth near a flame.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Be silent!" It was a harsh whisper, as loud as he dared make it. If he could have shouted it, he would have. If he could have shaken her while he shouted it, he would have done that too. "You will stand there, _silent_, and you will let me handle the speaking. Do you understand?"

Marian opened her mouth, as if to speak but Fenris lifted a gauntleted finger and narrowed his eyes from under his hood. She thought better of testing him any further and simply nodded her head in assent.

He was certain that in the entirety of his life, even in the past he could not remember, no one had ever spoken to him as much as Marian had in the last hour. After the dwarf's interrogation they decided to return to the Iron Lady and question the prostitutes. She said if at least one of the Antivans had a whore they were partial to he was sure to have spilled some information in addition to spilling...other things. The relentless speaking, that took the form of arguing, came when he attempted to get her to cooperate with a sensible plan in which they would avoid unwanted attention.

He merely suggested she dress in something that was neither leather nor metal and relinquish her daggers in favor of her staff, or her father's staff as she had corrected him. He would also make a sacrifice by leaving his greatsword behind to instead carry her daggers at his hip. If she at least appeared to be a magister in passing, he could pretend to be her bodyguard and no one would look twice. "_This is not the backwaters of Fereldon", _he tried to reason with her._ "Outside of the docks, people here do not leave their homes looking like armed militia awaiting attack from wild beasts. And a human woman walking side by side with an elf is simply not done in the better parts of the city." _To which he then had to listen to a seemingly endless rant about the injustices in the Imperium and her opinions on how to improve things before she finally acquiesced and changed her clothes. He then had to physically take her daggers from her as she clutched them to her chest. He was certain, however, that she had somehow managed to conceal a knife of some sort on her person.

Then, as they walked, she kept trying to turn behind her and speak to him. He had to pull her aside into an alley to explain his attempts at silencing her with menacing looks. "_These people need to believe I am your slave. You should not be trying to engage me in idle conversation." _ Another rant followed.

They were able to get the name of the whore favored by the leader of the Antivan slavers from one of the young serving girls washing laundry in the small yard behind the brothel. The plan now was to purchase said whore and question him while they were in the private of his room. No one would need to be killed, no weapons would need to make an appearance, and they would appear to be just another set of customers. She simply had to remain silent and let Fenris pretend to be her servant acquiring her entertainment for the evening. And yet, more complaining commenced.

_"I refuse to let you pretend to be my slave! You are not a slave and I am not some morally corrupt magister…" _and on and on it went until he again pulled her aside and finally just commanded her to be silent. She nodded and took it better than he expected. If he were honest with himself, it was easier for him to do than he would have thought, commanding someone so imperiously. Interesting.

"Now, let's go. And try to appear haughtier and not quite so..."

xxxx

_Aroused_. There it was again. That deliciously _stimulated_ feeling he awoke inside her. He actually looked very intimidating in his frustrated state, as he ordered her around. Intimidating and very arousing.

"...dumbfounded." Fenris finished his sentence.

Slightly crestfallen that he had mistaken her desire for idiocy, she carried her father's staff and walked along as she was told, handsome elf at her heels. She absently thought that she would never have put up with being ordered around by Anders. In the past, she had only ever been the one to take charge, in all situations. Necessity dictated it more often than not and it suited her personality. This deference to Fenris that she found herself so quick to succumb to was so out of character for her she hardly knew how to proceed.

They entered the brothel and a cloying smell of flowers and spices hit her and stuck inside her nostrils. Her nose twisted involuntarily in disgust. _Well that takes care of looking haughty_, she thought. Fenris stepped past her and approached the Madame who was standing at the end of a long bar.

"My mistress would like to purchase the services of Perrin." Hawke cringed both at being referred to as 'mistress' and at the fact that she was pretending to buy a whore for the night. She took the time to look around as Fenris appeared to be negotiating a price. Busty women and well built men in various forms of undress; besotted customers all too eager to give their coin for a quick tumble. Brothels were very much the same in any city, she imagined. She was starting to feel dirty just standing there. Apparently having come to an agreement, Fenris gave the Madame her payment and turned back to Hawke.

He leaned in to her ear and said "Upstairs, second door on the right." Then he bowed slightly and gestured for her to go ahead of him. She arrived at the closed door of the prostitute Perrin's room and was about to knock when she heard a low growling behind her.

"Are you daft, woman, do not knock! This is not an audience with the Archon, just go in."

Again she obeyed him, but not before she stuck out her tongue at him.

Inside the comfortable looking room, a shirtless and handsome young elf sat at the edge of a large bed. He rose upon their entry and moved to "greet" Hawke. Fenris shut the door behind him and intercepted the other elf, standing between him and Hawke.

"Do Not Touch" Fenris said menacingly. When Perrin smiled and attempted to change his focus to Fenris, Hawke felt the now familiar low pulse of his lyrium even before it was able to glow. It was her turn to intercept the approaching elf before the poor thing found a fist in his chest.

She laid a gentle hand on Fenris's arm to help soothe the lyrium's pull and she stepped between the two of them. "That goes for him too, dear."

Perrin now appeared confused and a little disappointed. "So, do you just want me to watch the two of you..." He smiled suggestively.

"Tempting, but not tonight." Hawke winked at Fenris who was wearing a look she could not quite read. "Have a seat back on the bed, we just want to ask a few questions."

xxxx

They had smuggled themselves onto a rooftop. It had not been easy with Marian awkwardly balancing a staff and wearing only a short tunic. A short tunic that afforded Fenris several views that threatened to distract him from his purpose tonight. His mind kept wandering to what exactly the elf at the brothel thought he was going to watch them do. He adjusted himself more than once and hoped Marian had not noticed. Also more than once, she shot him a silent glare that clearly said "_you should have let me wear what I wanted and not bring this staff"._ He ignored them, grateful she continued to obey him and remain blessedly silent.

When they finally settled in, hidden by shadow, they observed the comings and goings of the nondescript manor across the way. With a wink and one of her smiles, Marian was able to obtain all the information they could have hoped for. The whore was all too happy to give over whatever he knew about the slavers. There were several bits of detail Fenris could have done without. Sexual fetishes aside, the information proved accurate. They were directed to this manor in one of the higher class districts and over the past hour they had seen not only the slavers come and go from its doors but also several people who likely were working for the Kirkwall merchant hauling crates and other packages.

"I feel magic." She whispered. Marian had her eyes closed and nose stuck up appearing to sniff the air. "I can guarantee they are not just running a shipping operation out of that building." Fenris frowned and kept his hands busy fondling his borrowed daggers. They were not prepared right now to approach and investigate further. They were not armed enough to charge in, and not unencumbered enough to sneak in. They would have to plan a course of action and return here later.

"Fenris, I need to ask you something." she turned to face him with a serious expression. "When we come back to clear that house out," She had obviously come to his same conclusions, "I'm going to need to use magic." He gripped the daggers in his hands tighter. "If you would be willing to tell me how it affects you...to be near it or to have someone heal you, or cast protection spells on you, I can find a way to make it less..."

He interrupted her, "If you are referring to the spell that activated the lyrium in my markings when you first came to my aid, do not concern yourself. I trust you would not attempt to do _that_. I am perfectly able, to bear _normal_ magic." He sneered at her in the darkness. He had not meant to sound so disgusted. He had to tell himself she was only trying to protect him.

She didn't respond. A fleeting look of determination passed her face and then her eyes were pools of dark calm. She extended her hand to him and paused, hovering above his own. Then she lowered it very softly onto his. He let her do it, more curious than wary. Faint white gossamer strands of light extended from her hand and wrapped themselves around his wrist and fingers. The lyrium lines in his hand began to glow. He braced himself for the familiar burn, but none came. He was taken aback. He had never felt magic like this, and certainly never directed at him. The strings of light felt cool twined around him and rather than feel the _pull_ as the lyrium ignited, he felt it _flow_, like water through his hand.

Marian removed her hand slowly, avoiding his wide eyed gaze. She looked out over the rooftops before them and rested her chin in her hand, the illuminated threads dying out like embers in the breeze. "Every mage's magic feels different. Now you know what mine feels like."

Fenris couldn't find the words to describe it.

xxxx

Her companion was silent as they walked back to the inn. Hawke knew it had been a risk, deliberately exposing him to her magic, but she could not, would not take the chance of harming him in the middle of a fight even unintentionally. She had no idea what kind of magic had been involved in making his markings, and yet she knew for certain it was magic that should never have been used. Though he had not spoken, he did not appear to be truly angry or damaged in any way, so she decided to let him brood uninterrupted.

Again it was nearing dawn when they arrived 'home', such that it was. The inn was silent, its other occupants likely all passed out in their beds sleeping off the night's debauchery. Marian approached the door to her room. She was a little surprised that Fenris continued to follow closely, and did not veer away to his own door. She wasn't about to say anything to stop him, so she opened her door.

Someone was in her room. Before she could even form her next thought, Fenris had pushed her behind him and had a dagger in his hand poised to attack the intruder. Peeking from behind the tall elf, she could see suntanned skin and long dark hair and she heard a voice with a familiar swagger.

"Miss me, sweet thing?"


	9. Chapter 9

_Thank you for reading and reviewing! It keeps me motivated to update!_

xxxx

Chapter 9

"If I had known you were shacked up with a gorgeous elf, sweet thing, I would have come to visit sooner."

Hawke pushed Fenris into the room and slammed the door shut behind her. She turned and stilled his arm that wielded her dagger. "It's alright Fenris, this is Isabela, my friend, remember I spoke of her?"

Fenris flipped the dagger in his hand and sheathed it at his hip. He eyed the woman warily. "The pirate that nearly got you killed?" He said flatly as he pulled back his hood. Isabela winced.

"That's what you're telling people about me?" The pirate perched a hand on her hip. "I should take you over my knee…" The statement was directed at Hawke, but the sultry glance that came with it was directed at Fenris.

A sudden flush of jealousy rose up into Hawke's chest. She unconsciously stepped between Isabela and Fenris as if somehow her body could deflect the other woman's lust. "Isabela, meet Fenris and yes, that's what I'm telling people. You should be happy; it can only help your nefarious reputation. What are you doing here anyway? It isn't safe if you are seen with me."

"Still trying to protect us, kitten? Well, it is appreciated but unfortunately no longer necessary. So now _we're_ here to help protect _you. _Nefarious reputation aside, I'm loyal you know, at least to you."

Hawke pulled up chairs for her and Fenris and Isabela sat back down on the bed. Hawke froze. "What do you mean 'no longer necessary'? Wait, what do you mean 'we'?"

"You better sit down, first." Isabela took on a serious expression that sent a chill through Hawke. The last time she saw Isabela serious, it ended with a greatsword in her chest. Hawke sat down next to Fenris, suddenly wishing she could hold his hand.

"Varric is with me. He's at the Dwarven Embassy right now renewing some old contacts." Isabella paused. "Seekers from Orlais came for him." Hawke's hands balled into fists. "They had him for three days. He told them everything everyone already knows, but obviously he couldn't tell them where you were. And before your friend over there asks, I didn't tell anyone."

Hawke looked over to Fenris, suspicion poured out of the eyes he kept trained on the pirate. _Is he being protective or just suspicious in general?_ "I know you didn't tell anyone, Isabela. What happened, is Varric alright?"

"No worse for wear. I think he had fun actually. Made up a few ridiculous embellishments about you. After they let him go, he had them followed. They stayed in Kirkwall for one more day, and then left on their ship..."

Hawke could hear her heartbeat thump in her ears as Isabela's voice trailed off into silence. "What do you _not_ want to tell me?"

"They have your blood, Hawke."

"They…_what_?" Her usual clear and confidant voice cracked.

"The Seekers, they have your blood in a phylactery" Isabela's voice was soft and sounded defeated.

Anger welled up inside Hawke and she felt Fenris grow restless beside her. "That is _not _possible. I've never been taken to a Circle. The Templars have never even had their hands on me! I've never used blood magic. Where would they have gotten my blood, it's _not possible_…" She repeated with shock and desperation.

"You spilled quite a bit of blood when that sword ran you through." She gestured to the Qunari blade leaning against the wall where Fenris had placed it. "We think Anders took some of it, when he was healing you. Varric found out they ransacked the clinic in Darktown and found it with some of the things Anders left behind."

Hawke stared at the floor in disbelief. "What could he have wanted with my blood? What could he have been thinking?" She shouted.

Fenris leaned forward to capture her gaze. She looked into his green eyes wishing they were a forest she could disappear into. Now that the Chantry had her blood, however, there was no where she could disappear where they would not find her. Fenris continued to hold her eyes with his as he spoke "You said this abomination Anders, was trying to convert you to his cause of a mage rebellion. If he had plans to secretly give your blood to the Templars then you would have been hunted just like him. You would have had no choice but to aid him fully, if only to re-acquire your own freedom."

"Hm, that makes sense, Hawke." Isabela nodded her head in agreement. "He wasn't exactly stable...towards the end." Hawke clenched her jaw at the reminder of her foolish ignorance.

_The bastard damns me from the fade, _Hawke thought, but she bit her tongue.

Fenris spoke again. "Marian, the Chantry in Orlais has no authority in the Imperium. It will not be so easy for them to capture you here as you think. They will not be able to move freely in Minrathous. The Magisterium would have their heads if they found out they were even in the city, let alone had plans to abduct a free mage from it."

Hawke's eyes opened wide at the sound of her given name, and she looked at Isabela whose mouth was opened in realization.

"Wait, Hawke, what did he call you? Is that your _real name_?" Isabela's velvet voice crooned in amusement and it cut through the dark clouds that had settled in the room.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Hawke is my family name. Marian is my given name. I just...don't use it...much."

"But '_Marian_', really?" She laughed heartily. "It just sounds so delicate and innocent; like some vapid little princess. It doesn't suit you at all! And you never told any of us, but you told your new boyfriend here? Exactly how much have you told him? Who are you anyway?" She asked Fenris directly.

Fenris leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. Hawke could feel the tension in him as he stifled a flare of the lyrium. Hawke opened her mouth to speak, wanting to save him from Isabela's questioning, but he replied before she could come to his aid.

"Who I am is not as important as why I am here. _Marian_ is helping me with a personal matter, and in return I have agreed to put myself and my sword between her and her enemies if and when they come for her." He spoke confidently and without hesitation. _Huh, definitely protective,_ Hawke couldn't help the stupid grin that appeared on her face. She quickly attempted to twist her mouth hoping Isabela had not seen it.

She had seen it, however, and knowing Hawke as well as a dear friend should, Isabela just winked at her and said to Fenris, "Well then, handsome, welcome to the family."

xxxx

"It wasn't hard to find out what you've been up to Hawke. All I had to do was follow the trail of dead slavers. And two blood mages I hear? Just like old times then." The dwarf, Varric, chuckled and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet upon the table. The four of them sat in a shadowed corner of the Sword and Sovereign. Marian insisted they focus on the hunt she and Fenris had started for Danarius and not make any rash decisions yet regarding the hunt underway for her. _We've already drawn blood in your battle_, she had told him, _we've given your former master reason to pause, we shouldn't waste the opportunity_.

"So what's the story, Elf? Did you ask for _Marian's_ help," he sent an amused look towards the mage as he used her name, "or did she insert herself into your affairs unsolicited? She does that quite a bit."

There was only a small fraction of Fenris that was currently functioning in the present. He had been prevented from resolving what troubled him. He had meant to confront Marian about it in her room, but they had not been alone. His conscious mind only vaguely registered meeting and interacting with Marian's friends. His _new family, _as the pirate identified them, not that he remembered any previous family.

The functional part of Fenris absently replied to the beardless dwarf. "The latter, I suppose..." He did not even look at Varric as he spoke the words. The rest of the group continued to talk and he retreated back into the ruminations that had him occupied since she touched him with her magic, all the while unable to take his eyes from _her hand_.

Content to let the others converse without him, despite the fact that they were discussing his affairs, he let the memory of her touch move to the front of his mind again. The memory was a wild thing inside him. He twitched his hand almost feeling her magic in it still. He had never felt anything like it. He wanted to feel it again. He had to feel more of it. He needed to understand it.

He watched Marian's full lips move as she continued to tell her friends about the past few days. Slavers. Danarius. The Kirkwall merchant. The brothel. The suspicious manor. He did notice that she kept glancing over at him, as if seeking permission to continue telling _his_ story. He cared not and remained silent.

_Feel it again._ He had to feel it again. He struggled for words to make sense of it. Warm? Cool? Gentle? Soft? Pulsing? Tingling? Thrilling? He briefly squeezed his eyes shut and tried to grasp at the remembered sensation. He could taste it on his lips and smell it in his nostrils. It rang loudly in his ears and pounded with his heart in his chest. It was a powerful thing..._powerful. That's it. _

Fenris knew he was strong. But powerful? Power was a thing controlled by others. He had been a slave. A slave is always at the mercy of his master's whims. _But I am no longer a slave. _He stretched his fingers; the lyrium there felt different. _Powerful_. How had he never felt it before? Like a slave, he had only ever felt helpless against the whim of the lyrium in his skin. Had her magic changed it somehow? He clenched his fist. Where was the familiar burn? In its place flowed power. He wanted more. He wanted to feel her hands all over him. Feel her magic chase away the burn of the lyrium. He wanted to have that power over himself, and over her. He wanted to claim her curves with his fingers, taste the salt on her skin. He wanted to capture her lips and feel her gasp in his mouth. He wanted to wrap himself around her and bury himself inside of her.

He realized he was speaking. "...then if Isabela is willing, she can scout ahead and determine the safest approach." He saw Hawke nod her head in agreement with him, but she wore a concerned expression. He looked to Isabela, who was smirking. He looked to Varric, who had one eyebrow raised. It was Varric who spoke next.

"I'd say we have a plan, then." he pulled his legs from the tabletop. "I'll let you know what I find out from the gossiping busybodies down at the merchant's guild. Rivaini, I'll catch up with you later. Hawke, Elf, you kids look tired, you should get some rest before we move on that manor." Pirate and dwarf both rose and left the table. Fenris did not hear what was said between them as they walked away and leaned close to each other.

"Can you blame him Rivaini? She's a force of nature..."


	10. Chapter 10

I guess it's hard _not_ to make romance sound overdone, but hey, it's _fantasy_. And who needs _reality_ intruding upon that?

xxxx

Chapter 10

Hawke rose from the table and started walking slowly up to her room. Fenris quietly followed her. He had looked decidedly _odd_ through their whole conversation. She had not thought he would be so accepting of Varric and Isabela's help, but he agreed to their plans easily enough and he did not interject once while Hawke was explaining his situation to them. She knew it was selfish of her, but she was relieved beyond measure to have part of her "family" again at her side. If Fenris was correct, and the Seekers were unable to infiltrate Minrathous, then she was not without hope that she could have something resembling a normal life again, and her friends would come to no harm.

She rounded the bend at the top of the stairs and just as she turned out of sight of the bar room below, Fenris abruptly grabbed her wrist. She caught her breath in surprise as he dragged her roughly along. He brought them into his room and slammed the door shut. There was no time for her to protest, because he spun her around in his grasp and dug his gauntleted fingers into her arms. He leaned down slightly to look her in the eyes and he was nearly shaking as he spoke to her in a strained voice, the brightness in his lyrium starting to rise.

"What magic did you use on me?" He pulled her closer, demanding an answer.

Disappointment and hurt welled up inside her._ This is _not_ okay, _she thought. She had shown him every consideration and he was interrogating her _again_? "I thought we had moved passed mistrustful accusations, Fenris?" She spoke clearly and deliberately, not wanting him to mistake her kindness for weakness.

He suddenly let go of her and she stumbled. He stepped back but did not look away as he tore off his gauntlets and breastplate and pulled his tunic over his head.

Her eyes went wide._ Maybe this _is_ okay, _she decided_. _He stepped towards her, closer this time. He grabbed her hand and held it against his bare chest. "Your magic…the spell…on my hand…do it again." It was a low rough whisper and she saw the pleading in his eyes that she had mistaken for anger.

"I…what…?" She couldn't find her words. He pressed her hand into the heat of his tanned skin and she tingled with need. She could feel the lyrium calling to the magic inside her, screaming to be joined. She couldn't pull her eyes away from the white brands spiraling his taut muscles. In a thousand days of sunsets and springtime, she did not think she would ever see anything as gloriously beautiful.

_Speak, Hawke, you have to speak._ "It..it was just a healing spell. I'm not even good at healing…" She was too addled to realize she had spoken to him in the common tongue, but he understood and replied to her in kind, his elegant northern accent doing nothing to help the weakness she was beginning to feel in her legs.

"Marian, I don't care what it was." As she was losing all control, he seemed to regain a bit of his own. "I just need to _feel_ it again…please."

In that moment she could do nothing but comply. She closed her eyes and struggled for command over the ocean of her magic. He wanted to _feel_, not _drown_, so she had to master it despite his lyrium pulling like the moon pulls the tides. He was patiently silent but she could feel his heartbeat thump madly under her fingers. A dim white light appeared in her palm and she opened her eyes. The light spread out and mingled with the glowing lines of lyrium. She felt Fenris exhale and he lifted his head to the heavens; his mouth hung open as his hot breath escaped it. He turned his head back down to her and his eyes were feral pools of black. Hawke hesitated at the sight and the light of her spell dimmed. The corners of Fenris's mouth turned up just slightly into a semblance of a smile and he licked his lips, too closely resembling his namesake.

And then he was on her.

She felt everything all at once. Desperate hands clawed at her clothes. His smell of steel and leather surrounded her and she felt drunk on it. His lips, dear Maker, _his lips tasted of lyrium. _Then his breath burned on her ear and his intimate whisper pierced through the cry of the lyrium. "Tell me to stop..." he said even as his hands moved up the bare curve of her hip under her tunic and he bit along the angle of her jaw.

"Hnnn" was all she could whimper, eyes closed, head spinning.

Fenris stopped his frantic fingers and grabbed her head with both hands. He looked into her eyes. "This is your last chance, Marian." He spoke in an untamed growl. "Tell me to stop now or I swear it will be me who takes your freedom from you, not the Templars. You and your magic will belong to _me_."

The last strands of her control slipped through her fingers. She lifted her hands to his chest and she let loose her magic.

xxxx

Fenris felt the flare of her power pass into his brands. It felt..._amazing_. He heard a moan escape his own mouth and his hands closed around her silken black hair. He pulled her head back and suddenly his tongue needed to be on the pale skin of her throat, so it was. His teeth needed to bite the soft flesh of her shoulder, so they did. Her hands were still on his chest, her magic pushing against the ever present pain of his markings that pained him no longer.

He could feel her melt against him in surrender. He tore at each scrap of cloth that kept her skin from touching his and they fell to pieces on the floor. He stepped back to admire his reward. She was flushed and adorably shamed as his eyes caressed her despite her previous eager response to the caress of his lips and tongue. She tried to cover herself with her hands but he would not have it. He grabbed hold of her wrists. "No" he commanded. "Not yours any longer." He seized one breast in each hand, "Mine" he said, like a petulant child. She called out his name as he took one hardened tip in his mouth and fondled the other with his fingertips. Her hands clutched his hair and his scalp tingled at the touch. He needed more contact.

He lifted her off the floor and collapsed on top of her on the bed. He wanted every scarred line of lyrium etched into his body to make contact with her. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and he smelled orchids again. She whispered out soft broken sentences, and incoherent moans. In her blissful delirium, she had long since reverted to speaking in her native tongue and it was beautiful in his ears, separating her from every other mage whose words he was forced to endure in the past.

He panted and kissed as he spoke to her. "Your magic is mine now, your body is mine, only for me, I need_._..unhh...Marian... I need..." Fenris did not know where these _things_ he was saying were coming from. It vaguely sounded like his voice, if not spoken in his language. He felt he was going mad with need and breaking apart with desire. His thoughts and actions were spiraling out of control but he saw no reason to deny himself this reckless ecstasy. The last coherent thought that formed in his head was that any man can _want_, but a free man can _take._

xxxx

Never, never before had she relinquished her control to another. If asked, she would have said she did not know how. But now as she felt her body betray her, she struggled to remember any time before the rapture of surrender to the man above her. The invisible presence of her magic stretched and flexed around their bodies fed by and feeding his lyrium. He was a thing possessed as he touched and tasted her, stopping just long enough to remove himself from the last of the clothing that prevented her from feeling him where she needed him most.

She sensed his deft fingers stroke up the length of her leg and up and up and in..._and in _and she bucked up against him, stuttering words of pleading and begging for more. But she needn't have entreated so desperately because he was all too eager to comply and with one dominant thrust they were finally joined and her magic swelled in satisfaction.

She clung to him as he took her; her legs wrapped around his narrow hips, her hands kneading the rough lines of lyrium in sculpted muscle. It was all happening too fast, she was coming too fast, she didn't want it to end but he drove relentlessly in and in. She tossed her head and arched her back and stretched wide her legs and she was falling, falling.

Strong hands grasped her head and pulled it back down to the now. Green eyes wide open met hers. White hair was damp with sweat and full lips were smiling at her with unvoiced laughter. She wanted to bring him into focus, but she didn't want to stop the fall. He saw her struggle and stilled inside her. He spoke through his smile "Look at me. Let me see..." and he started to move again. She twisted and writhed but his hands forced her eyes to meet his and he never stopped driving inside her. Her breath came to her ragged and rough, her body was full but her magic was draining to empty. The green eyes and sly smile spoke to her again and said "Let go" and she did and she fell in a sublime release that brazen green eyes forced her to show him. She contracted and convulsed her climax unable to hide from him but it was he who was unable to hold her gaze on the last thrust that caused his own fall and he closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers whispering her name.

In the quite dark stillness, two spent bodies clung to each other, the static of magic and lyrium still lingering in the air. Marian's mind slowed and as the weight of her lithe lover slowly collapsed atop her, she felt herself be pushed into the Fade.

xxxx

Marian Hawke sat on the banks of a wide river with black water looking up into a red sky. The air of the Fade was thick and the sound of lapping water muffled. She felt the presence of someone behind her and saw loose blond hair fall forward as he leaned in to whisper to her "Whether you believe it or not, I did love you."

She was expressionless as she continued to stare into the distant red sky. "You loved the idea of me. I was who you wanted to be. A free mage who answered to no one."

Anders laughed with the ease she remembered well. "A free mage who didn't use magic!"

She smiled at the thought of where her body lay sleeping. "I used plenty of magic tonight."

"For him"

"For him. For me. It never felt more..effortless. He asked for it. He wasn't afraid of it, and now, neither am I."

She looked at the broad shouldered man who once shared her bed, who had entered the Fade at the end of her blade. He looked back and shared an innocent smile with her. "So that elf taught you what I could not."

She simply nodded her head and looked out across the water.

Anders sighed and pointed down the riverbank at a tall elf walking towards them. "He's coming you know."

"Then you should go." Hawke saw his form disappear into the heavy air and heard his laughter fade on the hot breeze. She turned to Fenris, who sat down beside her. His tan skin was smooth and unscarred by the lyrium it carried in the real world and his hair was black like midnight, like hers. The same green eyes looked at her with many unspoken questions.

"You have black hair" She grinned and reached up to run it through her fingers.

"And no lyrium..." He replied as he held up his hands and stared at them in wonder. "Is this your dream?"

"It seems it's yours too."

"I don't have dreams like this." He looked puzzled, but asked for no further information.

"Neither do I usually."

"Who were you speaking with when I approached?"

"This is the Fade, love. It was just another demon..."

xxxx

Fenris opened his eyes. He had been staring at black water under a red sky. He took a deep breath and felt Marian stir where she lay on his chest. He tried to still her movement with his arms, not wanting her to separate from him. She complied and tilted her head up to look at him instead. He said nothing and just stared back at her. She furrowed her brow and broke the silence.

"How do you feel Fenris?" she asked.

A long bit of time passed as she waited for his answer. His mind was curiously blank and he almost could not think of what to say when it suddenly occurred to him. He started laughing. He laughed deep and loud and with a broad smile on his face he said "I feel free."


	11. Chapter 11

_I hope to update again soon. I have the next chapter in my head already and I'm excited to get it all out. Thanks for reading. It's really great thinking there is someone else out there that might be enjoying my story the same way I've enjoyed the stories of so many other writers and the reviews simply make my day. Plus I'm having tons of fun!_

xxxx

Chapter 11

The sun rose and set and rose again. The Hawke and the Wolf were oblivious to the passage of time and all thoughts of hunters and prey were set aside for the moment. Fenris studied the slivers of light sneaking through gaps in the shuttered window. For the better part of the past hour he lay there watching the light turn from yellow to orange to the red of early evening, all while his Hawke traced the patterns of lyrium with her fingers, and sometimes with her mouth, along his body.

"Have you memorized them yet?" Fenris asked, amused at her concentration. A mess of tangled black hair lifted up from his right leg revealing dark eyes and red lips pursed into a frown.

"That isn't what I was doing." The frown deepened.

"Yes, it was. You are the most painfully obvious woman I've ever encountered." The frowned morphed into a pout. "It's endearing." The pout morphed into a smile. He reached out to twist a few loose strands of her hair between his fingers where they tumbled down her shoulder.

"Do they _change_ often?" She asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"I noticed that the lines change. It's very subtle, but they do. Did you never notice? Sometimes wider, sometimes thinner, a small shift, a little deeper in some places or barely there in others, but they're always slightly different." She hesitated to say what came next. "I daresay, that's what contributes to the pain..." It was said so softly it almost wasn't said.

He was shocked. He never had noticed. "I try not to look at them." His voice was tight in his chest and he felt Marian tense beside him, regretting what she had reminded him of. He twined her hand with his in reassurance. "Ask your questions. I will answer if I can."

She had clearly been waiting for him to give his permission. Little did she know she could have asked him to assassinate the Black Divine atop the Argent Spire and he would have done it smiling. Sharing what he knew about himself was far lesser a request and he found it troubled him not at all. "If you can?" She twisted her still naked body around and straddled him, sitting on his stomach, hands perched on his chest.

"I was an adolescent when I received my markings but I don't know exactly how old. My memories start then. Every day after that is not worth remembering until yesterday when I dragged you into this room." He propped his arms behind his head, unable to hold in a satisfied smirk.

"It was the day before yesterday, actually. If we stay in here much longer our enemies will have rallied." Fenris was aware of the fact that she was still allowing him one revelation about himself at a time. Many old wounds had melted away over the past hours in this room with Marian, but he still appreciated her respect for the ones that lingered. _All in time_.

Marian continued, "No rest for the wicked afterall." But she didn't try to get up, in fact she threw herself down on his chest.

"Are you referring to them or us?" He felt her muffled laughter against his chest and closed his eyes to savor the feeling of her breath on his skin. Fenris thought he heard the faintest of footfalls outside the door. "Speaking of wicked, the pirate is at the door. The dwarf is with her."

Marian stirred, "What...?"

"Hey, Elf! Put it back in your pants and let Hawke come out to play. Or keep your pants off and let me come in to play!" Isabela shouted and banged on the door.

Marian pushed herself off of Fenris. "She's very good at concealing her steps. I'm impressed you heard her coming."

"Yes, so no need to cry out my name quite so loudly next time. I promise I will hear you." He kissed the tongue she stuck out at him and then flipped her over on the bed, climbing out from underneath her. He was dressed in moments. Marian stood, meaning to do the same, but only made it as far as looking down at the ravaged remains of her clothing.

"This is your fault." She admonished as she pointed at the torn remnants on the floor. He smiled broadly, picked up his sword and walked to the door. By the time he stepped through and shut it behind him, he had stifled the boyish grin and replaced it with his well worn stoic mask of indifference.

"Is Hawke coming?" Isabela asked as Fenris walked passed her. He noted a depraved smile and a lewd tone to her voice, but he did just leave his lover naked in his room with no clothes so he was in no place to criticize.

"She will be following shortly." He mumbled as he started down the hallway. Varric fell into step next to him.

"Sooo, you're looking better than last we met." Fenris rolled his eyes and reached up to pull his hood low when he realized he had not even bothered to put it on. It somehow seemed unimportant now. "You were looking a bit peckish the other night..." Fenris didn't respond and kept walking down the stairs. "...taste good, did she?" Fenris stopped. Varric stepped casually past him.

"You have no idea." He suddenly realized he had spoken aloud.

Varric laughed. "Oh, I'm sure I can imagine, Elf."

Fenris followed after him. "I would prefer if you _did not" _he said with a very intentional edge.

xxxx

After slipping into her own room, hoping no one noticed her lack of clothing, Hawke got dressed and joined the others downstairs. She wore her familiar leathers and her beloved daggers were strapped to her hips. Her father's staff was slung across her back and it felt comfortable there. Her magic felt comfortable inside her and for possibly the first time, she felt no desire to hide it.

Clever Varric noticed the change in her when she sat down next to Fenris. She saw it in his eyes, but he said nothing. Isabela threw back a shot of something that was an odd green color and slammed the glass back down to the table next to a bottle full of said liquid. "Since when do you use a staff, kitten? These fancy magisters rubbing off on you?"

Hawke shrugged her shoulders, not feeling it necessary to share her deeper revelations. "We're in Tevinter. It's time I fought fire with fire. So what did we find out?"

"Well lovers," Isabela leered at her and Fenris. "While you two were shagging, I found a way into that manor. Did you know that most of the high and mighty mansions here have cellars that lead into the catacombs below the city?"

Fenris spoke up. "They were originally created by the cults worshiping the old gods. Now they are used mostly as secret passages. Only a very foolish magister would go without a concealed means of escape in the event of a seige."

Hawke pictured a dusty old magister crawling through a dank catacomb in a desperate attempt to preserve his own life. "A seige? You make them sound like kings in castles."

Fenris scoffed. "And why not? That is what they think they are." He was unable to bite back the bitterness in the statement. Hawke noticed his fist clench. She shifted her leg under the table to rub gently against his and he relaxed his fingers.

"I didn't see any escaping magisters, but I did see a few groups of ragged looking prisoners, possibly newly captured slaves, all bound together being shuffled inside through those catacombs." Isabela's distaste was obvious.

"While they're bringing slaves in the back door, I can tell you they're hauling lyrium out of the front door and shipping it off to Kirkwall." Varric interjected. "That merchant's name is Cassian. He has a nice mansion back in Hightown, been there for years, but kept quiet mostly. He's the second son of some noble family here, not a mage, and apparently that made him the second _and_ the lesser son. He came to the Marches, opened up a small trading operation. He moved miscellaneous goods, nothing provocative, to some of the smaller cities in Tevinter; that is until recently when he cancelled all of his old contracts and bought himself a fancy new fleet to trade exclusively in Minrathous with the magister who now has your target on his chest." He nodded to Hawke and took a sip of ale as his companions absorbed the information.

Hawke looked over at Fenris who seemed surprised by what Varric and Isabela had accomplished while he was otherwise occupied. She puffed out her chest a little with pride in her friends. "How did you manage to learn all of these things?" He asked seeming to address both Isabela and Varric at once.

The dwarf answered with a self-satisfied grin. "One- Isabela is sneaky." Taking her cue, the pirate raised her glass again in salutations and downed another shot. "Two- I'm charming. Three- we used some of Hawke's coin to bribe the right people. Don't bother yourself with feeling bad, she's rich, and I've taken good care of her gold over the years."

"I am...impressed. And grateful for the assistance." Fenris's words were genuine.

"Don't mention it Elf. All her gold won't help her if the chantry zealots get their hands on her, so we're grateful she has someone else on her side."

Hawke rolled her eyes and groaned out loud at all the touching sentiment. "Yes, yes we're all very _helpful_. But, we still don't know the most important bits. Who are they selling all this lyrium to and what are they getting in exchange? It can't just be a few slaves," She turned to Fenris, "and how does re-capturing you fit into this operation? Why does he need you back so desperately?"

Now that she knew what to look for, Hawke saw the nearly imperceptible shift in the exposed markings on Fenris's neck. They were not glowing, just...different. Maybe she felt it more than saw it. He was uncomfortable...or uneasy somehow. She did not think he was deliberately keeping anything from them. It was more likely he had a bad gut feeling about something and did not want to divulge the painful details of the history behind his intuition.

_All in time, _she told herself. She smiled at the others, beaming from ear to ear at the prospect of some real excitement...that didn't involve being naked with her elf. Intrigue, righting wrongs, killing evil things; she could hardly wait. "I think it's time we go have some _fun_."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"This is a sewer grate Rivaini." Varric did not seem impressed.

"Did you expect a highway paved in gold and good intentions?" Hawke asked him as she pushed the dwarf aside to help Fenris lift the heavy stone grate worn smooth with age.

"Listen here Tethras, if you'd like to try to talk your way past the heavily armed guards at the front gate, be my guest." Isabela poked Varric in the chest hair with one accusatory finger as she spoke. "The rest of us will make use of the element of surprise." Daggers in hand she artfully jumped down through the hole. Hawke saw her land effortlessly on her feet and without missing a step she started walking forward into the darkness below.

"Fine" He grumbled, still none too happy. Varric handed Hawke his crossbow before he also lowered himself down. Hawke looked over the weapon.

"Bianca, you're looking well." She said softly as she stroked the well polished wood.

"Are you speaking to the crossbow?" Fenris asked, though she noted he did not seem surprised.

"No fondling Hawke, you know she doesn't like a tease." Varric yelled up from below and Hawke passed Bianca down to him.

To Fenris she said "I know it's a little silly, but he's called it by that name as long as I've known him and that crossbow has saved my life more than once. It's as if she's also a friend."

"I can respect that." Fenris looked down into the sewer at Varric who was dusting himself off. "Every good weapon should have a name and I'm sure I've met more weapons that were worthy of being called 'friend' than people." He passed his sword down to Varric and disappeared below.

"I knew you'd fit right in" Hawke said with a smile and she plunged into the darkness. She landed knee deep in water that seemed too viscous to just be water. She decided not to dwell too much on that. Their only light was whatever dim moonbeams managed to travel this far down through sewer openings in the street above them. They followed single file in the narrow passage letting Isabela wind them around and about. Hawke got the impression that they were descending. Worn pavement stones and rancid water eventually turned into rough hewn rock walls and they soon found themselves covered in cobwebs and wading through the remnants of ancient skeletons that were long since left to dissolve back into the dust.

When the moonlight faded, Hawke manifested a shimmering orb of light in her hand and she held it aloft, illuminating their way. The passages were opening up wider now and Fenris walked beside her and leaned in to whisper, "These are the true catacombs that were used for burials. We will soon come to larger spaces used by the cults for gathering and worship." He reached out to brush aside a sheet of cobwebs as they rounded a bend.

Isabela slowed and turned to speak to them. "We're coming close to where our "friends" are using some of those gathering spaces as slave pens. I wasn't able to see much, but I can tell you the slaves they had weren't from the markets. Something about them was off."

The group slowed their pace and silenced their footfalls. As they moved forward the tunnels gave way to larger rooms of brick and ceilings braced with wooden beams. With each step a sensation of unease crept into Hawke's chest. Her magic felt as if it was flickering hesitantly inside her instead of burning brightly. She looked over at Fenris who had stopped to roll his shoulders and stretch his hands.

"My magic feels odd. Are you alright?" She asked him and she saw his markings faintly glow. Isabela and Varric seemed unaffected and did not even notice the two behind them had paused.

"I...they feel...I don't know..." Fenris studied his hands and clenched his fists several times. He shook his head. "It's nothing, I'm fine. We should move on."

They followed Isabela's circuitous route and Hawke's disquiet continued to grow. Fenris had long since taken his sword in hand and he held it ready before him, his eyes nervous, his ears perked. Eventually they came to a passage lit by torches with strong oak double doors at the end. Hawke put out her light and rested her hands on the daggers at her hips, gaining a bit of comfort from their familiar feel.

Isabela stopped and gestured for them to gather together. She whispered, "Those doors up ahead, they're keeping some of the slaves in there, and beyond that the passages lead into the manor. There were guards last time, but I didn't see how many."

Hawke was getting frustrated with this feeling of anxiety. "There's no way to slip in there quietly, so I vote we blast the doors in, clean out the room nice and quick and ask questions later."

Varric rolled his eyes and spoke to her with his unique brand of biting sarcasm. "Yes Hawke but, as much as we all just love your usual finesse how about we try something new and actually plan out our attack a little." He turned to Fenris "You see Elf, usually Hawke charges in like the vanguard and we're stuck scrambling to keep up and trying to stay alive."

Hawke wasn't in the mood for jokes. "Fine," she said, the virtue of patience having always been lost on her. "I'll blast the doors, Fenris will take out the first wave with his sword, you cover him with Bianca and Isabela will keep any that make it past the two of you off me so I can cast from the rear. Is that enough of a plan for you?" She strode forward with determined steps, the air around her hands wavered with the energy forming there. The others quickly took their places, with Fenris and Varric at opposite sides of the doors and Isabela next to her, daggers ready. Hawke tried to ignore the foreboding feeling that rose inside her when she realized she had to pull very deep to manifest her powers.

xxxx

Fenris felt Marian's magic blast past him and suddenly the closed doors were nothing but splinters flying through the air. He charged into the large room, quickly taking stock of the enemy. There were maybe a dozen men in armor and all of the walls were lined with cages behind which cowered many more dozens of slaves. The first guard to regain his wits and realize they were being attacked drew his axe on Fenris and brought back nothing but a bloody stump thanks to a sweep of the elf's greatsword. Fenris took down two more in quick succession. Another suddenly fell before him and he noticed a bolt from Bianca sat between dead eyes.

Just as Fenris turned to continue cutting his way through the room he saw a flash of silver armor and heard Isabela cry in a harsh voice, "Hawke! Templars!"

His lyrium flared madly and his body moved before the words were out of the pirate's mouth. Marian was still standing in the doorway and he saw the fire she had poised in her outstretched hands flicker and then die out in a puff of black smoke as one of the Templars stunned the magic from her body. She stumbled back slightly but did not lose her footing. She pulled her daggers as the knight made to charge her with his sword. Fenris intercepted him and with a massive swing of his steel, two halves of the once living body of the Templar fell before Marian.

Their eyes met for just a brief moment, and then she was running headlong into the room spinning herself behind a guard who was advancing on Varric. She slit his throat in one smooth movement. _Reckless woman, _Fenris thought as he chased after her. Before he could get to her, he saw another Templar shout and hurl himself onto her and the two of them landed together on the floor, her daggers clattering out of her reach. Fenris dropped his own blade and launched towards the man who was poised to land a fist in Marian's face. Fenris tackled him with his shoulder and now it was the knight who was helpless with an enemy on top of him. Fenris raised one hand and felt his lyrium pulse but instead of his fist passing through flesh his gauntlet only struck against the other man's breastplate. He had no time to wonder why his lyrium had failed him. The armored Templar was trying violently to buck out from under Fenris. Changing tactics immediately, Fenris let his fists fall on the face of his opponent. Wild anger swelled inside him as blood spattered in his eyes and he struck the man again and again. He had a mage he _wanted_ to protect now; _his_ mage that he needed to keep safe and this Chantry pawn had dared to threaten her. He was about to land another blow when small familiar hands grabbed his arm from behind.

"Fenris, stop." And he did. He looked around the room as Marian gently pulled him off of what appeared to be their last remaining adversary. The man pushed himself backwards and struggled to his feet grasping at a discarded sword on the ground and standing ready with it.

"Let me." Marian said with a terrifying edge to her soft voice. Before the Templar could silence her, she had him in the grasp of her magic. Fenris watched her just stand there, arms relaxed at her sides, eyes unblinking. She and the armored man faced each other still as statues. Slowly the man's face began to change. Eyes wide, teeth grinding with effort, he let his sword fall uselessly beside him. A pained moan escaped through his clenched jaw and he brought his hands up to his head clutching at his ears. A thin stream of blood escaped his nose and matching crimson tears bled from his eyes. With a final pathetic gasp, he fell lifeless to the floor.

xxxx

Hawke let out a long slow breath and closed her eyes. She opened them and saw her three companions gaping at the results of her unfettered magic. She felt tremulous and she struggled to beat back the fear that streaked through her like lightning after the Templar's assault. She could fight a hundred Arishoks with solid and unwavering resolve, but fighting Templars always made her blood run cold at the thought of just how much losing would cost her. Fenris's hand came slowly up her back and he grasped behind her neck, drawing her into his chest. "_You're safe_." She heard him say in her ear though it was barely even loud enough to be a whisper. Her heartbeat slowed to match his and she was calmed.

She pulled herself away from Fenris and heard Varric address her hesitantly. "Hawke...did you learn a new trick? I don't recall ever seeing you do..." he pointed to the dead Templar "...whatever that was."

"You haven't seen me do _a lot_ of things." She said in reply. Fenris had seen exactly what Varric saw, and yet he didn't question her, his first instinct had been to comfort her. The realization that he could so readily accept even the darkest corner of her magic gave her the confidence to own it. "I am a _very powerful_ mage Varric." She announced it to the empty air as if in warning for those enemies they had yet to face.

"I don't know what's scarier Hawke, the fact that you just killed a Templar with your eyes, or the glowing Elf swinging that giant sword around." He slung Bianca onto his back as he addressed Fenris. "You nearly took off _my_ head a few times with that weapon, you know. And are those tattoos filled with _lyrium?_ Something you and Hawke neglected to mention? That you're a walking swirling pool of magic?"

"I am no mage Dwarf." The words were heavy and deliberate and Fenris seemed to be measuring whether Varric was accusing him of something or simply curious.

Hawke stepped in. "He was branded against his will, Varric. It's nothing like Meredith or Bartrand. The lyrium is a part of him, he controls it."

Varric's trust in Hawke was unfailing. She saw him relax and extend a hand to Fenris. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean...I...we have bad history with people...and lyrium." To his credit, Fenris remembered the stories Hawke had told him about their "history" with people and lyrium and he shook Varric's hand.

Isabela caught her attention as she waved a set of keys in the air. "Catch" She said and she threw them at Hawke. "Search the rest of the Templars, there are a lot of cages here, they must have more keys." Hawke took in the sight that she had been blocking from her vision as she fought. Men and women, elves and humans sat huddled in the far corners of the cages that lined the walls. She ran to the closest one, keys in hand and fumbled at the lock. The others had managed to scavenge their own keys from the bodies and were doing the same. The lock gave way and she pulled open the door. A painfully thin young human man walked on unsteady feet and took Hawke's hand in assistance as she helped him out into the room.

And suddenly she knew. She looked all around at the "slaves" that were slowly creeping out of their prisons. She looked over at Fenris, his lyrium lit, and saw that he knew it too. "They're all _mages_..."


	13. Chapter 13

_Two chapter update this time..._

xxxx

Chapter 13

"The templars, they were holding back our magic." The young man let Hawke help him down to sit on the floor.

"I know. I felt it as we approached but I couldn't tell what it was until...well, until they attacked me." Hawke looked around at the haggard mages surrounding them. _They wouldn't have been able to use magic if they tried._ They all looked to be starved and some wore bruises and half healed wounds.

"Marian, these are Andrastian templars." Fenris rolled over the one Hawke had killed with his boot to expose the heraldry on his chest. "Why would they be in the Imperium, let alone in this place?"

The mage on the floor weakly answered him. "The Templar order is in chaos outside of Tevinter. Some factions have left the Chantry entirely..."

It hit Varric first and he stepped forward to finish, "But they have to get their lyrium fix from somewhere don't they? Orzammar isn't going to do business with random rogue templars and threaten their trade deals with Orlais..."

Hawke took over for Varric, "So they're getting it from Danarius and his little merchant-minion Cassian? In exchange for what? These mages? Why?" Hawke saw a fleeting look of worry pass Fenris's face and he turned his eyes away brooding over whatever answer to her questions concerned him so.

Another of the captive mages joined the discussion. He was an older elf, in the robes of a Circle enchanter, though barely recognizable as such covered in dirt and blood as they were. "Most of those here fled the circle in Kirkwall thinking they might finally have their freedom only to be hunted by these templars and brought to this place. They would have been better off safely tucked inside the walls of the Circle; where they could be still if not for _your _ruinous intervention _Serah Hawke_."

"_What_?" Hawke narrowed her eyes at the accusation and both she and Fenris moved unconsciously a step closer to the mage.

"I know who you are, I was there when the Chantry was destroyed and I was there to see it all unravel long after you abandoned your brethren!" The elf's bitterness was no doubt magnified by being nothing but a captive both in the old order of things and the new.

Hawke clenched her fists and held her magic down. "You would have been _annulled _if it weren't for me."

Fenris's arm came across her chest from behind and he pulled gently back on her, away from the hateful glare of the former enchanter. "This gets us nowhere" he scolded her. To the other elf he said, "She has now given you your life back twice, mage. Take it and go from here." His tone left no opening for argument.

Hawke struggled to swallow her anger and had nothing to chase it down with but regret. "All of you are free to leave, but none of you are in any condition to go out the way we came in." She spoke with all of the authority she could muster. "We are going to clear out the mansion above us and I swear no one up there is ever going to capture anyone again. We will return to help you when it's safe." She pulled away from Fenris, retrieved her daggers and walked away from the wretched sight of what her actions had wrought, however indirectly.

The large room opened out into a long hallway which she followed with quick steps, eager to get on with killing things. Up ahead she saw a tall ladder attached to a dead end wall with a small door in the ceiling above. _This must lead to the cellars. Finally._ She would feel better after more fighting.

Fenris caught up with her and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She could still hear Varric and Isabela in the large room speaking confident words of reassurance to the traumatized mages.

"Marian, we need to talk." His face was a concerned mask that made her uneasy. She remained silent and let him continue. "The magisters are not above enslaving their own, especially if they see it as a means to an end; typically a very self-serving end." She couldn't read his intent in the statement. Did he mean this as a warning to her?

"Danarius. He was collecting these mages for a reason." He shifted his weight, clearly not wanting to put a voice to his suspicions. "I know he has experimented on others before. He himself told me more than once about the many subjects he went through attempting to perfect the lyrium branding ritual before he performed it on me." His lips curled into a sneer, "Perhaps he thought I should feel honored."

She cupped her hand to his cheek and gently traced the line of lyrium on his chin with her thumb before she said, "Do you know what experiments he would need mages for?"

"I do not. Nor do I know why he would involve himself with templars outside the Imperium. Someone of his standing and position would have resources readily available, be it subjugated mages or the templars to control them."

Any further speculation was interrupted by Varric and Isabela coming down the hall. Isabela wore an expression that looked every bit like a captain trying to pull her ship through a storm. "Hawke we need to get control of this situation fast and clean out whatever's upstairs so we can get those mages out of here before some of them start to..._turn_."

Varric nodded in agreement. "Maybe we should have left one of those templars alive..."

"Not funny Varric." Hawke mumbled as she gestured for Fenris to go up the ladder first. He started climbing and she followed right behind. He had swung back the ceiling door and climbed halfway through when she felt it one moment too late. The rune he must have tripped activated. She had just enough time to kick Isabela off the ladder to safety with Varric tumbling after her. Simultaneously she grabbed hold of Fenris's ankle and hung on as the two of them were sucked into a vortex.

xxxx

When the world re-materialized around them, they were somewhere else. Fenris felt disoriented. He lay flat on his back on the floor and Marian's hand had a death grip on his ankle. She let go and stood, taking in their surroundings. She did not seem surprised. He propped himself on his elbow trying to clear his head and realized he was without his sword.

She was generous enough to spare him a few words of explanation. "Trap. In case one of the mages attempted escape. They planted a rune that would automatically transport a person to...here." She walked around and as he followed her with his eyes their situation became clear. They were inside a small cell behind iron bars and a locked gate. It looked as if they were in the basements, alone. Outside the bars he could see stacked crates and barrels. "Don't worry; we're at least inside the mansion now. Runes like that can't move people very far." She continued to pace, eyes full of tactical calculation. "No weapons. No staff. Varric and Isabela are still on the outside."

Fenris rose and let his lyrium ignite. He pressed his hands to the bars and pushed. He felt the familiar sting of matter giving way against him as he passed through the metal. Whatever it was that prevented him from crushing the heart of the templar earlier no longer appeared to be affecting him. When he was on the other side he looked at Marian. Her arms were crossed upon her chest and one eyebrow was raised in intrigue. He gave her a cunning smile.

"For many reasons Fenris, not the least of which is your cheeky temperament, I find it hard to believe you were ever a slave. How exactly does one keep a slave in check who can, quite literally, escape from bondage at will?"

He still marveled at the fact that if anyone else had said those things to him he might have killed them, but not her. The answer to her question brought back stray memories of harshly taught lessons and old abuses he would just as soon forget. But in the here and now, standing before Marian and thinking of her touch, the pain of the past seemed so much less acute.

"You don't want to know" he replied darkly. Fenris began to search for something that would help him free Marian from the cell.

"Ah, no need" She held her hand up to him and he stopped. With a flourish she produced a lock pick from its hiding place stuffed in the top of her boot and skillfully picked the lock on the gate. She swung it open and made a show of taking a small bow. "Pirate friends, remember?"

All he offered as a reply was a condescending "Mmm." He brought up their next obvious obstacle. "We are still without our weapons."

"I hardly think, of all people, you and I really need weapons to cause trouble?" She rubbed her fingertips together and sparks of lightning crackled from them. He let his lyrium flare brightly in response. "But if I don't get my father's staff back after all this, I'm going to kill these fools twice."

xxxx

The interior of the manor was a sprawling maze of corridors and endless rooms. They moved quickly through, a terrifying and formidable pair, cutting down an odd assortment of slavers, a few remaining templars and any other civilians unfortunate enough to have sought employment in the ranks of the magister filth that was behind all of this. There was no sign that Varric and Isabela had yet found another way upstairs to join them.

They had swept away most of the armed guards on the first and second floors, leaving only a few cowering slaves behind in the kitchens. _More people to come back to help later._ Hawke was keeping a mental count of non-combatants that would need dealt with somehow when their job here was done. It was a mixture of captive mages and commonplace slaves. Could she simply let them walk away from here with their freedom? Freedom was a tenuous thing in Minrathous, and not something it seemed many were able to hold onto without the strength to fight for it. "_You abandoned your brethren_..." The words that were spit at her, full of bile and hate, still clawed like an animal at her heart and she desperately wanted to make them less true.

She and Fenris reached the top of the stairs to the third floor. They found themselves on a wide landing with doors all around them. Their only light was the white of his lyrium, and it was warm emanating from him. Hawke felt the lingering tendrils of blood magic roil the atmosphere.

Fenris's face twisted into a scowl of absolute abhorrence and her magic heard his markings scream out into the darkness. "_I know this magic!" _His words, deep and feral, thundered in the air mingling with the dark sorcery. Before she knew what was happening the doors all burst open at once and every manner of demon and fade creature descended upon them.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Marian sent out a shockwave throwing back the first row of demon spawn. Fenris had acquired two borrowed swords on their path through the manor and with lyrium fueled rage he now brandished both of them mowing down the second row. _It's her, it's _**_her_**_, it's _**_HER, _**he chanted in his head. As soon as he had felt the sickening misery that was her magic, as soon as he smelled its caustic stench, something tore open inside of him. Violent hatred poured out of the tear in his very soul and he was electrified in anticipation of finally getting to rip that _bitch_ to shreds.

The two of them fought back the Fade monsters in a savage mess of ichor, ash and blood. Fenris was vaguely aware that Marian saw the change in him. A small part of him wondered what she thought of the tortured smile on his face; of the sight of him salivating like a rabid dog at the thought that on the other side of these demons was _Hadriana. And he could smell her fear._

The cool waves of Marian's magic enveloped him. She was trying to calm him, fortify him, heal him but he would not have it. His lyrium pushed back at her magic, burning brighter and shutting out everything besides his hate. The hoard of demons was thinning now, and Fenris advanced through one of the doors; his eyes and ears wildly searching for his prey. He was in a suite of rooms that had clearly recently been used for ritual blood magic. Barricades had been hastily positioned against doors and magical wards were sparking and crackling as the lyrium in his limbs pushed them aside. He was hurling furniture out of his path when Marian came up behind him. Her hesitant hand hovered near his arm but she dared not touch him.

"Fenris," He heard his name, but it was muffled by his wrath and he threw another chair across the room. "Fenris," again he heard and this time she grabbed hold of his arm. Where she touched him the lyrium died into dullness and he actually felt it _shift _in his arm, just like she had told him it did. He stilled his body and the pounding of his heart stilled with it.

He took a breath and looked at her. She saw him start to come back into his sanity and continued to speak. "Do you know the mage responsible for all this? This magic feels _vile_." She stepped back from him and seemed to concentrate on the air around them.

"Her name is Hadriana. She was Danarius's apprentice. She _is_ vile. And I'm going to rip out her heart." That was as much as he could bear to tell her right now. He resumed clearing their path.

"This is not the magic of an apprentice. We must not take her lightly. There are others with her, I can tell. Other mages...other demons...helping her." He paused briefly and nodded his head once in acknowledgement. He would not be reckless, but no number of mages or demons was going to save her from him. She seemed to accept his determination, but she also offered him a warning.

"Only the living know victory, Fenris."

xxxx

Hawke followed Fenris as they moved through an unnatural labyrinth of rooms and hallways. The veil was thin and out of the corner of her eye she would occasionally catch a ripple of the Fade peaking through into the real world. She knew they were being led around a path manipulated by magic, but Fenris would not be deterred or diverted. She breathed evenly in and out, in and out. She focused on her control. She was going to have to be the rock to still Fenris's crashing waves if they were to win this battle.

They kept turning endless corners and she felt as if they and part of this edifice had actually been pulled partly into the Fade. Half formed walls, staircases suspended in air and broken bits of mundane household items were all twisted and made strange by having passed through the veil. They eventually came to a black wall that seemed to stretch infinitely in every direction, the expanse broken only by a single narrow door in front of them.

"She's here" Fenris snarled and he kicked open the door. The black wall faded away and the scene shifted around them in a cloud of mist. For the first time ever, Hawke wished she had her father's staff in her hands. She called forth her magic in readiness as the mist cleared.

They were surrounded. There were half a dozen mages with half a dozen different spells swirling around their staves, and behind them was a tall woman in the robes of a magister and a pride demon looming behind her. A horrible nauseating laughter escaped the woman's red lips as she addressed Fenris.

"Welcome home, little wolf."

xxxx

Fenris realized it was not a boast what Marian had told Varric about her power. Of all the mages in the room, she was the first to act. She seemed to throw out several spells all at once. He saw walls of rock shoot up from the floor blocking the line of sight of the enemy mages. Columns of flame fell downward from somewhere above them and licked at Hadriana's underlings. And she spared a spell for him. This time he allowed it and he felt fortified and his mind cleared.

Fenris saw Hadriana shrink into the distance and the pride demon advanced on them, lesser shades materializing around it. In sharp contrast to the determined madness of moments ago that drove him here, Fenris now felt as if he was the very being of control. He owned his actions; he owned his lyrium and demons fell against the sharp precision of his attacks. Even as he used it, he knew this control was not his. Not when that depraved harpy was just within his grasp and the animal inside him begged to tear her apart. Marian was sharing her control with him and stealing away the unstable vexation that filled him.

The two of them were holding back the assault but he knew they were not gaining any ground. He looked to Marian, concentration carved like stone on her face, black eyes now red with fire, sweat dripping from strands of loose hair as she used her power with her bare hands, no staff to aid her, to hold back the magic of their enemies and strengthen him at the same time. The pride demon seemed to recognize what mage in this room would satisfy it the most and the thing began to focus on Marian. He could hear the dark whispers of desperate pleas and demon promises. Marian stopped her casting and her eyes went back to black as she stared down the demon. Fear suddenly gripped Fenris as he felt her magic recede from him. _She's resisting_ he thought, _but for how long?_

He ran towards her, not really knowing how he was going to intervene. He leapt into the air thinking he was going to throw himself at the demon, but in midair he heard her voice thunder all around them.

"_No" _She said and the pride demon was thrown back to the corner behind where Hadriana stood. Fenris landed atop Marian instead and his arms went around her as they landed on the floor where he rolled them behind the temporary safety of one of the protruding rocks.

He grabbed her shoulders. "Are you alright?" his voice sounded more frightened than he had the intention of showing.

The insane woman in his arms actually _smiled_ at him. "I'm fine." She was calm personified. If he was a different person he would have feared for their enemy in that moment. But he wasn't, and he didn't. "Fenris, I can end this now. I can do something that will send the demon back into the fade and...incapacitate the mages here." There was something she wasn't telling him and he gave her a look that told her she needed to come out with it.

Meanwhile, the mages had apparently regrouped and Marian had just enough time to disperse a wave of lighting directed at the rock that shielded them. "Look," she spoke hurriedly "when the mages in this room _go down_, just be ready to kill them all no matter what, alright?" Another wave of lighting came, this time shattering their cover. He grabbed her and rolled them behind another obstacle.

"Fine, I'll be ready." He did not like surprises.

"Can you keep them off of me for just a few moments?"

He nodded and jumped out from cover. He darted around shades and spells and tried to throw back the hoard that was trying to close in on Marian. He kept one eye on her as he was fighting and he saw her start casting a spell. The lines of an intricate rune lit with blue light started to form on the ground beneath where she crouched. Her eyes were closed and her lips moved in a silent chant. He turned to cut down another shade and when he turned back to her, the rune was complete and she stood to her full, though slight, height. She extended one arm, hand out, fingers spread wide. She opened her eyes and when her fist closed he heard a loud and resonant deep boom and he felt as if the breath was knocked from his chest. His lyrium flared brightly in response and he recovered quickly. Not so for everyone else in the room.

The mages were collapsed on the ground, grasping at their chests and seeming to choke for air. The lesser demons screamed and then were sucked away. Their strange surroundings twisted and morphed back into the semblance of a normal room with solid walls. The demon of pride shook and shuddered and then it too seemed to get sucked back through the rapidly closing veil. Fenris hesitated at the sight of what was happening until he noticed that Marian was also prostrate on the ground clutching at her chest her face a shock of agony.

He moved quickly to assist her, but she held out a hand to stop him and managed a hoarse plea. "Kill them, Fenris, hurry..."

He came back to his senses and shot into action. In six fluid movements, six mages lay dead on the floor. A sword through a chest, two severed heads, a heart outside its body and two broken necks and then there was _just one left_.

xxxx

Hawke had closed the veil and temporarily severed them all from the Fade. She was starting to recover from having her magic ripped from her just as Fenris finished off the last of the magister's apprentices. She saw him pause and then stalk towards the still prone and choking form of Hadriana. Hawke rose on unsteady feet and was able to stagger over to the two adversaries. The other woman saw Fenris coming and started scrambling backwards on the floor until her back was against the wall.

Fenris towered over her and to Hawke it looked as if he was savoring the feeling. If she was a different person she would have pitied the fear she saw in his prey's eyes. But she wasn't, and she didn't. He reached down slowly and grabbed her by the neck lifting her partially up from the floor. She saw him slowly flex his muscles around her throat as she clawed madly at his gauntlet.

Hawke could feel waves of satisfaction emanating from him. Hadriana's eyes were wide and nearly popping out of her skull. Hawke thought her nearly dead already, but somehow she managed a strained petition.

"Wait, please, you don't want to kill me!"

"There is only one person I want to kill more. But you'll do for now." He kept squeezing.

"..Si..Sister..he ha-has your sister.." The squeezing stopped, but he did not let go.

"What did you say?" He pulled her close to his face.

"You have a sister. She was free, but now he has her. I can tell you more. More of your past. I can help you. Please!"

Fenris was still. Hawke saw him teeter on the knife's edge. Then she saw in his eyes which side he would come down on. Fenris spit in the face of the mage in his grasp and the sound of her spine breaking split the silence.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

It took every ounce of will that Hawke had to _not_ reach out and comfort Fenris. The last of her strength drained from her as she watched the elf suffer silently, the pain of raw emotion burning off of him with his lyrium. The fist that had crushed Hadriana's neck was clenched tight and he still stood over her, staring down at her lifeless body. Hawke knew more than most the poisonous taste of vengence and she could see that Fenris now knew it too. A wounded animal is quick to bite and she didn't want him to regret biting her if she tried to help. Right now it was up to her to protect them both from that regret. There was nothing she could do in this moment to wash the bitterness from him so she chose to suffer along side him.

And suffer she did. All too quickly he had become so much more to her than an interesting lover. He was something else entirely, but she had no words to define it yet. She felt tethered to him and she was awed by the irony that a former slave now owned every bit of the indomitable Hawke. She didn't know what this woman, Hadriana, had done to him. She didn't want to know. She didn't trust she could control her rage if she did. So she would simply wait for him to guide her next actions.

She sunk, bone weary, back down to the floor. Fenris was still breathing heavily but as moment passed onto moment his agitation seemed to taper and she saw him unclench his fist. He turned to look at Hawke where she sat. She thought she must look a pathetic thing crumpled on the ground, pale and drained of might and magic. She straightened a little and looked back at him expectantly. Her brief quiet vigil at his side was not lost on him and she could see gratitude replace one small fragment of the angst in his eyes.

He moved to where she sat and crouched down in front of her. He looked down at her hands and then took one in his. There was no magic left in it to give to him, but she squeezed back anyway. "Thank you" he said to her, and he sounded spent, but she doubted it was physical.

"I take it she deserved that and more?"

He didn't answer for a long time. Again she waited. _So this is what it's like to be patient? _She doubted she could muster it for anyone else. She studied the green forests of his eyes as they looked past her, likely reliving memories he wished he could forget. It was a fleeting moment of vulnerability that, to her, made his strength seem all the more imposing. Hawke also knew something about overcoming past pain. The Maker created some people strong for a reason. And then just like that, the warrior was back, the burden of history overpowered by fierce tenacity.

"Someday I will tell you. But not today."

Hawke's heart, hardened by her own history as it was, still couldn't resist a flutter at the promise of a future in that statement. She managed a weak smile and said, "Then if I ever meet her in the Fade, I'll finish the job for you."

One corner of his mouth turned up in unexpected amusement. "I have no doubt that you would. Now, would you care to tell me why, by all the gods, you would cast a spell that would cripple you alongside your enemies?"

Her pride was a little hurt by that. More so because she knew it had been profoundly stupid. Effective, but stupid. "I was hardly crippled..."

"You are a damn fool of a woman. You can't even stand. What if I was unable to kill them?

"That was never a possibility in my mind."

xxxx

Marian's faith in him was staggering. _If she knew what you did to the others that helped you..._

He took her by the hands and helped her stand. "I do not deserve such blind trust." He spoke the words to the floor. She leaned against him for support and looked at him curiously for several moments, searching for something. Then she casually dismissed the statement with a pat of her hand on his chest.

"You can tell me about that another day as well."

He thought to himself that there was no way for her to know how much her patience meant to him.

They were gingerly stepping their way through the carnage when Varric and Isabela appeared in the doorway of the room. Behind them was one of the young slaves they had left downstairs as they made their warpath through the mansion. The young elven girl was nervously wringing her hands.

Marian pushed off of Fenris and tried to walk to them unassisted. She tripped over a severed head and he caught her again before she fell.

Varric whistled. "Well, Hawke, as usual all we had to do was follow the corpses and there you are."

"Don't listen to him, sweet thing. Sometimes people just need to die." Isabela said the words as if she were commenting on needing to polish her daggers. "We were wandering around forever trying to find you. Hawke this is Orana," she said and gestured to the anxious looking elf. "She showed us up here. Said this place belongs to some magister named Hadriana. Did you two run into her?"

Fenris looked at Marian. She looked back at him, then at Isabela. "Over there." She nodded at the dead mage crumpled in the corner whose head was twisted at an impossible angle.

They all turned to look at the body. A tiny squeak escaped the scared slave. "M...m...mistress?" She stuttered unbelieving. It was possible she expected her mistress to reanimate. It's not as if Fenris hadn't seen it happen before. This was Minrathous after all.

Marian stepped carefully over to Orana and attempted to place a hand on her shoulder. "Yes, dear, about that..." The frail thing twitched and shrunk away from the touch. If someone had bothered to ask him, Fenris could have predicted what to expect from the slaves. Marian made another attempt. "It's alright, you're fr..."

Fenris cut her off. "Hadriana is dead. This is your mistress now." It was a command. This would be the only thing they would understand. This would protect both Marian and the slaves. He had seen the helpless looks in their eyes as he and Marian slaughtered Hadriana's thugs. This lot was not ready for freedom. There had been a time he was the same, but no longer. He was the only one who could know what was best for them at the moment.

When he saw the look on Marian's face after he said it, however, he almost regretted the decision. _She is going to pontificate for hours over this, _he thought to himself; but it had to be done. He would find a way to make it up to her later.

"_What_?!" It was more of a high pitched scream than a word coming from Marian's mouth.

Fenris shot her a stern look and stared her down even as he continued to address Orana. "Gather the rest of the slaves. Dump this filth," He swept his arm to indicate the dead bodies, "into the sewers. Await your mistress in the main hall afterwards."

The girl nodded her head vigorously, seeming grateful for being given purpose. She bowed curtly and ran from the room to carry out Fenris's orders.

Varric's laughter exploded from his chest and echoed off the walls. He clutched his belly and tears came into his eyes. "Oh, Elf! Oh, but you don't _know_ how you're going to pay for this one!"

"What is _wrong_ with you!?" Marian was having her own explosion and Fenris winced. "What in the Black City did you just do?!" He could almost see the waves of magic form around her as she trembled with shock. "This is _absurd_! You've made me a _slave owner_?!

Isabela grabbed Varric by his coat collar and dragged him out of the room. "We'll just be seeing to the mages in the catacombs, Hawke. I'll take whoever wants to come aboard on my ship until they get themselves sorted." She waved at them with her back turned and exited.

"Fenris..." He slid his hand to the back of her neck and she stiffened. She took a breath meaning to continue to sound off at him.

"Marian, stop." He said gently and he spoke to her in the common tongue, hoping she would consider his words more deeply. She pulled her lips together tightly, allowing him the opportunity to explain his seemingly incongruous action. "For as powerful as I know that you are, you have no idea the dangers of this city. Minrathous would eat your trusting and generous soul alive. You've just helped an escaped slave kill a magister. You've just let loose a large number of mages who know who you are, and have no love for you. Gossip in this city spreads like wildfire and before the sun peaks in the sky today you will have more enemies than there are crows in Antiva. And it's possible some of_ them_ will have already been hired to kill you."

"It wouldn't be the first time" she said sullenly, and refused to meet his gaze.

"I am unwilling to allow you to risk your safety for imprudent pride. If I can protect you with a lie, then I will lie. If that lie protects the slaves remaining in this estate, all the better. They will be safer here with you than free on the streets. Think of them as servants, pay them in coin if you wish, but do not send them away." He could see the acquiescence start to show in her frown. "I do not know who Hadriana has curried favor with besides Danarius and I don't know who her friends are or if they might try to retaliate. You must take control of her holdings and position. If you maintain dominance over what you've taken from her, show no weakness and entrench yourself here, especially if the rumors spread about who you are, as they inevitably will, it's possible neither the Chantry nor the authorities here will move on you. At least not right away."

"What about..." He knew what she was going to ask and he answered before she could even finish.

"Danarius will need time to lick his wounds after what we've done here, and now we will be fighting from a fortified position." Fenris paused to let her come to the conclusion that he was right. She eventually exhaled slowly and nodded her head.

"So I have to stay _here_?" She was beginning to see reason, but looked disgusted nonetheless.

"Yes, but I will remain at your side."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Hawke once again found herself on the banks of a black river. Her body was asleep on a stolen bed in a borrowed mansion but her dream self was in the Fade. She had never been to a place like this while she slept before she met Fenris. The dark water seemed thick and the red sky hung like heavy robes above her. A hot breeze tickled her skin. She walked along barefoot, coarse sand between her toes and small rocks feeling very disagreeable beneath her feet. She stopped when she saw a black haired elf kneeling on the opposite bank. She squinted across the wide expanse of the river. Her elf. It was Fenris. Were they sharing a dream again? Was this his or hers?

She tried to call out to him but she found her voice wouldn't carry across. She dipped one toe in the water. It was icy cold and she drew back. Had she thought she would swim to him? She sat down on her side of the river not knowing how to proceed. She watched as Fenris tilted his head up to the sky and then back down to the river. He didn't seem to know she was there. In the distance behind him another form was taking shape. Hawke stood, ready to brave a frigid swim to keep him safe if it was a demon that approached.

She relaxed a little when she saw it was a woman running towards him. Red hair bounced around pointed ears and thin limbs struggled to get to him as fast as they could. When the other elf reached Fenris she was gasping in the hot air and her face was full of urgency. Hawke saw the woman's mouth open wide to shout at him. She waved her hands at him. She kneeled beside him as if begging. Fenris just sat there in the sand oblivious to the woman's hopeless entreaties. When she grabbed his shoulders to shake him Hawke nearly dove into the water. She stopped when the elf whose hair matched the sky saw her and released Fenris.

The women stared at each other across the water for a moment. Hawke blinked and suddenly they were face to face on her side of the river and Fenris was alone again.

"You are a mage! Who are you?" Hawke scrutinized the red haired woman speaking to her. Aquiline nose. Angular jaw. Green eyes. She chose not to respond. Her father had taught her to be wary of anyone who spoke to her in the Fade.

"Please...please," the strange woman was near tears but Hawke could not let herself be moved. "Do you know my brother?"

_Brother_? Was she referring to Fenris? Suddenly Hawke remembered a scene from the real world. She remembered Fenris taking his revenge with the sound of bone breaking in his grasp. But before that, she remembered the magister begging for her life with mention of a sister. "_You have a sister..._"

The woman must have seen some semblance of recognition in Hawke's eyes. She fell to her knees before Hawke now, hands clasped in supplication. "You've shared his dreams before haven't you? You care for him don't you? I can see it! Please take him away! Please take him far away from Tevinter. I've tried so many times to get through to him but he can't hear me. Or he won't hear me. He doesn't know me..." Her voice trailed off and a tear actually fell from one swollen green eye. "I can't let his family be used against him again, please! It's too dangerous, he's already free, he must go!" She started sobbing. In spite of her wariness, Hawke bent to try to comfort the distraught elf. Before she could touch her she seemed to vanish away on the breeze. Hawke grasped at the empty air, then looked back to where Fenris still sat. He suddenly seemed to come into awareness of his surroundings and he met Hawke's gaze just as she felt herself be pulled out of the Fade and back to consciousness.

xxxx

Hawke sat straight up in a strange bed. Fenris was beside her, head in his hands breathing deeply. Before she could worry if it was the right thing to do she curled herself around him and brought her lips to his ear. "You had a nightmare." She wasn't asking. It wasn't a question.

His breath hitched at her touch and for a moment she thought he might pull away, but then he exhaled and pulled her into him. He burrowed his face in her neck and inhaled deeply. He held her there for a long while and she almost thought he had fallen back to sleep.

Slowly she felt him start to stir. His hands gathered up her hair and pulled her head back just enough for her mouth to fall open. She felt his kiss on her throat and then she tasted his kiss on her mouth. His tongue was bold and his lips were violent, but his hands were gentle as he reverently laid her down underneath him.

He caressed down her back and kneaded her hips. His legs parted hers and he hovered over her. She whispered his name and arched herself against him. They slid into each other slowly, languidly, vestiges of sleep still clinging to them both. His markings dimly glowed and she felt his heat around her and inside her.

He voiced unashamed pleading moans against her ear and she held him tighter. Release came for her sooner than she wanted; if she could, she would have lived inside that euphoria forever, but the feeling of him was too much for her. She let her mind go free as his pace quickened growing wild with need. She had never felt so vital, so necessary than she did now with Fenris sharing her pleasure and taking comfort in her. When he clutched her tight and trembled against her, she felt a contentment she had never known before.

xxxx

Fenris's nightmare was forgotten, wiped away by contentment. He absently traced patterns on Marian's abdomen with his fingertips as he lay beside her. He couldn't help but think a small part of his satisfaction at the moment was because he had made love to her inside this house that they had captured from a tormentor of his past. A strange act of defiance against his former life to be sure, but it pleased him to no end thinking about it and he smiled against her breast where he rested his head.

Her fingers were tangled in his hair and she rubbed his scalp. "Fenris, do you remember your dream?" He lifted his head to look at her. She chewed on her lip and stared up at the ceiling. That obviously wasn't what she really wanted to ask him.

He sat up and held his hand against her cheek. "You don't need my permission to ask me questions about myself any longer you know. I already told you, if I can, I will answer." She seemed relieved to discard the need to prevaricate.

"I saw you in the Fade again. Do you remember?" He honestly did not. He remembered waking from a nightmare sweaty and panting next to Marian who had still been asleep, but he could not recall the content of the dream. "Fenris, Hadriana said you had a sister?"

His gut twisted at the sound of that name coming from his lovers lips. He wanted to spit away the poison of it so as not to taint the blissful feel of Marian in his arms. "Lies and deceptions." His reply was cold and sharp as his sword. "It is their currency here. She was pleading for her life, nothing more." He had dismissed any possibility of truth in Hadriana's words even before her body had grown cold.

Marian seemed to steel herself to tell him what she needed him to know. "Your sister was in the dream Fenris. She was trying speak to you but you couldn't hear her. She spoke to me instead."

"You are a _mage_. Can you be so sure it wasn't a demon? I would have thought you less susceptible." He bit his tongue too late and he regretted the words even as they died in the air. _Again you let the beast control you. _He opened his mouth wanting to eat the words back again, but Marian put a finger to his lips and then kissed his nose.

He stared back at her dumbfounded. "You're very lucky I know you don't mean that."

He was dizzy with relief. He _was_ lucky and he cursed the vitriol inside him at the same time he thanked the Maker for bringing Marian to him. "She was your sister Fenris" She said it with absolute certainty. "She asked me to take you away from Tevinter. She said she saw that I cared about you."

Fenris saw her hesitate before she continued. "She said she didn't want your family to be used against you again."

xxxx

Hawke paused even longer before her next deceleration. "It isn't safe for you here. I should do as she asked..."

She saw fire burn in Fenris's eyes. "No. Absolutely not. Not until Danarius is dead." He clearly was leaving no room for negotiation. "And you forget you came here because it wasn't safe for you elsewhere. Why would you leave?"

"I would leave with you. For you..." she spoke the words before she realized she meant them more than any words she had ever spoken in her life.

Fenris pulled her close and kissed her deeply. When he parted from her he said "No one is leaving. My actions will not be guided by a sister I don't know, who might not exist. We continue on this path. Together." Hawke saw the determination in him, but there was also something else. Perhaps something he didn't want to admit to himself yet. Perhaps something he didn't understand yet.

"But Marian, please tell me if you have this dream again."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"You're really very cruel" Marian accused him. But the insult had no teeth. Hands on her hips, she stared him down trying to look fierce. Fenris could imagine that it would have appeared thus to anyone else, but all he saw was the woman who he could make tremble with his voice and moan at his touch. Wielding that kind of influence over a formidable mage such as Marian had been doing wonders in helping to slowly erase some of the scars of his past. His Hawke was a better healer than she knew. But he still wouldn't be swayed.

"_I_ am practical and realistic_. You _are stubborn and delusional." Fortunately, Fenris was just as stubborn. He was not going to let her escape this duty. Granted, it was a duty that he had forced her into, but it couldn't be helped. He had allowed her avoidance up to this point, but could not humor her any longer. She must play at being the mistress and participate in interrogating the slaves; he needed to know whatever information they could tell him and he hoped it would help them to plan their next course of action.

They were fortunate to have passed several uneventful days in the mansion. No one had come to arrest, capture or smite either of them. The mages they had freed were now scattered to the four winds, only one, a young woman who was a healer remained on Isabela's ship...apparently in Isabela's private cabin. Varric, who Fenris had to admit was extremely enterprising, had taken over their rooms at the Sword and Sovereign and appeared to have woven a network of informants who now regularly reported to him. Unfortunately there had been no information worth mentioning. It was that terrifying absence of news which disturbed Fenris enough to finally force Marian into assuming her new role properly.

He had been managing the slaves without her until now, making sure they were busy with the minutiae of servitude. They obeyed him unfailingly as he knew they would. He had spared Marian the task of addressing them when they assembled to meet their new mistress, taking it upon himself to explain the change in "management" and announcing himself as her bodyguard. Irony, it seemed, was now a permanent fixture in his life.

The sprawling mansion was scrubbed clean of any remnants of its previous owner and now smelled faintly of orchids. Varric had Marian's few belongings brought to them and they had recovered her father's staff undamaged. Marian herself had actually burned anything and everything that was even remotely related to blood magic, which left many of the rooms curiously empty.

Her impressive brooding about the current situation caused the whole household to give her a wide berth. She largely restricted herself to the library and the bedroom apartments they had taken to using. It suited their little farce just fine however, to have her sequestered these past few days. She would appear to the slaves to be arrogant and distant; exactly how she should appear to them. As for the outside world, he hoped that if Marian kept out of sight until the dust settled on their little massacre the other night, the fact that they had committed an unsanctioned murder of a magister and stolen her property would go unnoticed for as long as possible; or at least until more scandalous gossip came around. Regrettably, Fenris had to admit to himself that the next bit of scandalous gossip likely to come around would be that the mage who assisted in the unsanctioned murder of a magister was the Champion of Kirkwall.

He also couldn't deny that he _liked_ having her secluded up in their rooms. Waiting for him. _Available_ to him. Fleetingly he considered being concerned about the fact that the slaves would think him a bodyguard _and_ a bedroom plaything, but he couldn't bring himself to care really. She was beautiful, she was his and he had felt more sated in body and soul these past days than he ever thought possible in many lonely years on the run. The last thing he needed, however, was for Marian to find out that some might think her a depraved mistress bedding a powerless slave. He was already eyeballs deep in her ire for making her a slave owner in the first place. If she caught wind of that, it's possible she would make him sleep elsewhere if only to keep up appearances, which would be _entirely_ unacceptable to him at this point. He'd be damned before he went back to suffering through his freedom, denying himself what others took for granted.

He let his eyes wander over her as she stood trying to be defiant. In the dim light of the library, shadows danced across her face. She was enticingly flushed with frustration. Her hair was loose and he could almost feel the silk of it in his fingers. He could almost feel her magic tingle on his skin. He couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from turning up into a slight but hungry grin.

_Later_, he told himself. He shifted his weight and cracked his knuckles. "Marian, you must accept that you cannot change the order of things in this land. This is not Fereldon and this is not the Free Marches. I have already told you this ruse is necessary and temporary."

She practically hissed out a long slow breath before she replied. "It's possible that there is _no one_ else for whom I would do this." She had finally accepted defeat.

When he originally decided to return to Minrathous, he could never have guessed that he would be driven to scheming like a magister. "I could say the same thing."

xxxx

She knew what they were all thinking. As he paraded the poor cowering men and women before her, she knew what they thought of her. And he knew it too, but damned if he didn't seem to care one bit. _They think I'm some kind of slave-molesting pervert with an elf fetish. _

Said Elf was not helping the situation in the least. He was every bit the deferential subordinate towards Hawke in front of the "staff". She liked that appellation better than "slaves". Meanwhile, when no one else could see, his green eyes would find her from behind white strands of hair and she would blush and squirm in her chair. Several times she caught him smirking at her and she wanted nothing more than to show him what he could do with that mouth instead.

The afternoon wore on and she learned the names of the people she now felt responsible for. They were mostly young elves, but a few looked to be in their middle years, each with different simple household skills and duties. Hawke noted with not a small amount of disgust that some bore visible scars of varying sizes and ages. Whether from something perceived as discipline or from deliberate bleeding to fuel Hadriana's blood magic, Hawke cursed the dead bitch's savagery under her breath more than once. She promised herself she would see them all free eventually. Until then, she swore to the Maker no further harm would come to them.

The poor slaves seemed to endure Fenris's inquisition no worse for wear. He had given Hawke that "Be Silent" look, lest she break character, so she let him do most of the questioning, while she sat trying to look autocratic. He asked them about Hadriana and the goings on under this roof. Most of them knew nothing of the business that was conducted here. Some mentioned they would see the groups of foreign mages arrive and then be moved elsewhere after only a few days, but they knew not where. While they all knew of Danarius, none of them had seen him come or go from here for many months, though they knew Hadriana was still loyal to her former teacher and would often receive correspondence from him personally delivered by the expatriate Kirkwall merchant.

Before Fenris brought in the next slave, the two took a moment to consider what they had heard so far. Hawke sighed and stretched where she sat behind the large desk in the library. She looked around at the shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling, now sparse of books after she had destroyed everything containing forbidden magic. Forbidden in her mind at least. Fenris sat in the chair opposite her and ran his bare fingers through his hair. He slouched and growled and then said what both of them were suspecting. "It's possible Danarius is not in Minrathous. Though I can't fathom why he would leave the city and put Hadriana in charge of anything. He would have been more likely to kill her himself than trust her."

Hawke raised an eyebrow at him. "No honor among maleficarum? Shocking."

Fenris got up to fetch the last person they had to speak with. He returned with the wisp of a girl Hawke remembered had been with Isabela and Varric when they found her and Fenris amidst the bodies of their fallen enemies. Fenris led the girl by the arm and stood her before Hawke. Her thin fingers were clasped in front of her and her eyes were cast down to the floor. She appeared to be trying to make herself as small as possible in the overly large room.

Fenris took his place behind Hawke and stood at attention. On his way there he caught her eyes and seeing her pained exhaustion he mouthed "nearly done" to her in encouragement. "Mistress, this is Orana" he announced sounding disgustingly subservient. Hawke would have given her left eye to never hear the word "mistress" come out of his mouth again. He was about to address Orana but surprisingly she spoke first.

"Thank you mistress, for killing her." The words spoken by the young slave were muted, but Hawke recognized a thin vein of courage in them. Hawke and Fenris exchanged a stunned glance as Orana continued to watch the carpet. It was Hawke's turn to attempt to say something, but again Orana spoke unsolicited. "She killed my father."

Hawke stood and walked around the desk towards her. Of everyone they had questioned today, this girl was the only one who had spoken without being asked a question first. Hawke could have hugged her. That small act from this small elf was enough to set Hawke's hopeful heart ablaze at the fact that not everyone who had suffered in this house was yet broken.

Hawke unthinkingly moved to take Orana's hand and wanted to ask her to speak further. Fenris tried to step forward to stop her but before he could Orana pulled away sharply, stumbled backwards a few steps then fell to the floor on her knees, prostrating herself before Hawke.

"I'm sorry, Mistress, please, I should not have spoken! I'm sorry!" She quickly wailed.

xxxx

Marian stepped back and Fenris stepped forward. The poor girl expected some kind of punishment for speaking out of turn. In her mind that would have been the only reason for Marian to approach her. Fenris stood between the two women. Marian was grinding her teeth, looking like she wanted to kill Hadriana a second time. Orana was shivering on the floor.

"Oh, Holy Maker, enough! I've had enough Fenris!" Marian threw her arms in the air, stepped past Fenris, then threw herself down and practically pressed her face to the floor so that she was eye level with Orana.

"Listen to me, dear thing, please." She pleaded with the slave. "I am not your mistress, I am nobody's mistress! I swear neither of us is going to hurt you. Your bitch of an old _Mistress_ deserved to die and we're glad we killed her."

Orana dared to look up just barely to see Marian lying on the floor in front of her and the two stared at each other, both unwilling to make the next move.

Fenris sighed and rolled his eyes. First he picked up Marian and led her back behind the desk. Then he picked up Orana and led her to the chair opposite. He leaned against the corner of the desk. Apparently, being confronted with a slave who thought she was going to be beaten was the limit of Marian's ability to go against her principles. Frankly, he was surprised she had lasted this long pretending to be someone she clearly wasn't. It was that lovely willfulness, however, that made her so captivating.

And so Fenris had finally accepted defeat. He rubbed his forehead before sighing again and speaking. "Orana, do you know Magister Danarius?"

The girl nodded at him and he saw tears actually well up in her eyes. "P..Pl..Please! Don't send me to him!"

Fenris could feel Marian's fury tickle the hairs on the back of his neck as she imagined what depravity the girl feared so at the mention of his former master. Whatever she was thinking couldn't compare. He bit back ugly memories he wasn't prepared to relive right now. He continued. "I was his slave. I escaped. I killed Hadriana and I'm going to kill Danarius."

No one spoke as Fenris's declaration settled in the air.

Orana looked hesitantly at Marian and asked "You're...not a magister?"

"I am not a _magister_." She said the word as if it tasted bad in her mouth. "And he is not a slave any longer."

Fenris took over again. "Can you tell us where Danarius is?"

It was clear Orana was still bewildered, but she answered. "No. Master Danarius hasn't visited in some time. Master Cassian brought his letters to the Mistress though." Fenris heard the girl choke at the mention of the merchant and she curled up a little into herself where she sat in the chair he had put her in. Unfortunately Marian was just as perceptive.

"Orana, why did Hadriana kill your father?" Marian asked her.

The elf closed her eyes to hold in tears. "I...He..." She stilled her breaths. "He tried to stop Master Cassian from..." She bit her lip. "He should have just let me be, but..." She allowed a tear to fall. "The mistress had to punish him...and then made him watch. She killed him afterwards."

Fenris felt his lyrium burn with his disgust though it was nothing he could not have guessed. Again, sick memories threatened to overtake him until he felt Marian's magic change the air around them. He saw her close her eyes to regain control over the righteous anger sparking inside her.

Very quickly she settled into an icy calm. "I will not suffer these pretenses any longer, Fenris. Let Danarius come and find us here. Let the Magisterium empty and come to this door. Let them all come. They're all _dead_."

The Maker is not without a sense of timing. Fenris heard before Marian did and he was a blur of movement as he grabbed his greatsword from where it leaned against an empty bookshelf. His weapon was in his hand when she heard it too and she shouted at Orana to get behind them as she drew her magic into her hands.

Deep voices and a clatter of armor echoed loudly now in the hall just outside the library.

Fenris saw Marian's mouth spread into the implacable smile he now knew well and she spoke with frenzied anticipation, her magic surging around her "Ask and you shall receive..."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Marian was not one for passivity. True to Varric's word, she charged forward like the vanguard. The air grew thick with the swell of her magic and a nod of her head caused the doors of the library to burst open into the main hall of the mansion. Fenris saw flashes of silver, orange and black. He allowed his lyrium to pull him forward and he blazed with light. He shot past her before she could cross the threshold. Two Imperial templars with swords half drawn, orange starburst heraldry on their chests, stood in front of a tall and forbidding figure in the black robes of a magister. Relief and disappointment in equal measure twisted in Fenris's gut when he realized through his blur of motion that the magister was not Danarius. The next thing to twist inside him was revulsion and dread, _I know him._

Fenris shouted a warning, "Marian, stay _back_!" and he crossed the room faster than the templars could finish drawing their blades. His heavy steel crashed against the shield of one of them with a two handed blow that threw the human off balance. The knight staggered and fell, an awkward mass of metal plate. Fenris pivoted, swinging his sword back with one arm. His bare fist, bright with the lyrium traced over his bones, made contact with the other templar underneath his chin. The force of the punch snapped the man's head backward and his helmet was knocked off kilter.

Fenris arced his sword around for another attack but by then Marian had them. The two templars were now struggling forms of suspended limbs floating in mid air, their own swords pointed menacingly at the crest on their breastplates, held there by unseen hands. The helpless humans gasped and writhed trying to escape the blades as their lethal points pushed deliberately forward piercing through their armor with the shriek of metal on metal.

Fenris saw Marian standing poised and perfect, two fingers of one hand raised in the air, her tongue sweeping slowly across her lips savoring the moment; she was a predator as only another predator could appreciate.

"_Enough_!" Black robes and arrogance now joined the frey. The magister lifted his staff, magic crackling around it. Fenris moved to attack him and he swung wildly hoping to sever the arm holding the staff, but he was thrown backwards by a pulse of energy from the mage's other hand. He landed across the room, his lyrium sparking and burning along his skin as if protesting against the contact with magic that wasn't Marian's.

Marian still had the templars in her grasp, and if their panicked screams were any indication, their swords had gone through their armor and were now grazing skin. The soldiers were spared an ignoble death by their own blades when the magister raised his staff towards them and froze the swords into ice. With a flick of his wrist, the ice shattered into harmless shards on the floor.

Marian's attention turned to the magister and the templars fell from the air. She brought both her hands up before her and the house started to tremor all around them. Fenris looked to the magister, staff still outstretched, face tight with effort, fighting against the vice of Marian's magic. When he spoke his voice was strained but still rife with conceit.

"If you know what's good for you, you will release me" and he sneered in condescension.

Marian laughed. "I think it would be good for me to watch you die in pain, magister scum."

The man returned the laugher but it was a repulsive echo of hers. His frigid blue eyes continued to focus with concentration on Marian, but he lifted his hand again and lighting formed around it shooting out towards Fenris.

Fenris scrambled to recover and attempted to dodge the strike. There was a blinding flash of light where Marian had been standing and then another just in front of him where she now stood. She was suddenly positioned between him and the magister's lighting, which she caught in her hand and tossed aside harmless. She brought her arms out ready to retaliate but the magister spoke again.

"If you're looking to help the little wolf, dear girl, you will find it necessary to cooperate."

Marian hesitated and a tense moment passed where no one attacked. Fenris picked himself up off of the floor, as did the templars. The mages stood unmoving and studied one another, measuring risk and calculating advantage. Fenris stood beside Marian, sword ready. The templars flanked the magister.

"You would do your new mistress well, little wolf, if you told her who I am." A white blur of outrage tunneled his vision and Fenris would have tried to lash out again, blind to the consequences, if Marian had not stilled him with a touch. He felt her hand twitch with anger at the other mage's implication as she spit out a reply.

"You're just another faceless blood mage to me," but her eyes moved to Fenris with the unspoken question. _Who is he?_ Fenris's breathing had grown heavy and he wanted nothing more than to just _attack, _but he knew who this man was and he knew that it was too dangerous to ignore his cryptic words.

Through gritted teeth, lyrium still bright, sword still ready, Fenris said "Drop your staff _mage_."

"So long away, you've forgotten your place, Slave!" and a fire ball shot from his staff.

Again Marian caught the element. It shrunk into smallness and she blew it away from the palm of her hand with a puff of breath. "Drop your staff _mage." _She repeated his order. "And get your puppet templars out of my sight."

The man laughed again and there was something vile and twisted about his amusement. "Oh, you are going to be _such_ a wonderful new diversion!" He lowered his staff and gave a curt order to the templars. "Out" he said and without question they took their swords and their damaged pride and exited the front door to the street.

Only the three of them now stood in the hall. The magister casually leaned on his staff. "_Well, little wolf_...?" It was a question. It was a command. It was a threat. In his head Fenris cursed all the gods he knew. There was nothing for it but to obey.

xxxx

"This is Loranus Crasta. He is the Executor of the Archon." Fenris spoke with hate and rage and, to Hawke's dismay, a tiny shred of defeat.

Hawke looked from Fenris to the tall man in black robes. He was in his late middle age with neatly trimmed dark hair run with grey and ice for eyes. His face was taut with angles and menace and Hawke's stomach turned at the feeling that there was something not so vaguely deviant about him as he smiled at her.

Fenris had lowered his sword and Hawke sensed a hesitant shifting in his lyrium and it unsettled her. She pulled together enough defiance for them both. "Huh. Should I be honored by a visit from the Archon's lap dog?"

The magister stepped slowly towards Hawke. She felt Fenris's hackles rise and she held him still again with the touch of her hand on his arm. She stood her ground and looked up into dead blue eyes.

"Dear girl, you would be ever so much fun to _break." _His smile was an ugly evil thing and Hawke had to fight to keep her magic calm when it screamed inside her to _attack_. Fenris fared no better. He growled low in his throat at the threat and the lyrium in his skin under where Hawke's fingers rested was flaming with heat. "Ah, but alas, no time for that now," The man flippantly tossed his head and continued walking past them towards the open doors to the library. "Come pets, we have much to discuss."

Hawke and Fenris had a rushed conversation. Hawke started. "What am I walking into?"

"Crasta has the Archon's ear and speaks with his voice. If he wanted us dead or captured, we would be. I am certain that Hadriana's death was not important enough to earn retribution directly from the Archon. He wants something else."

"I supposed we can't just kill him?"

"Tempting..."

"...but no?"

"No. Marian..."

"Yes?" Hawke clasped Fenris's hand and let her magic mingle with his lyrium. He looked down at their joined hands and she saw an odd juxtaposition of craving and worry.

"This man is dangerous, Marian." Hawke saw the ghosts of the past in his eyes. "More than you realize. If it comes to it, do not risk yourself. Do not try to protect me."

"No."

"What?"

"No. I _will_ protect you. And you will protect me. Now, let's go." Hawke followed the magister into the library.

xxxx

Fenris drew from Marian's strength and followed her into the library. He saw Orana clasping her arms around herself as she stood in the far corner of the room. Crasta noticed her and gave an order.

"You. Girl. Wine and two glasses. Now." He snapped his fingers and Orana jumped to obey scurrying past him and Marian as they entered, not meeting their eyes. Crasta sat behind the desk. Marian stopped and stood in the middle of the room. She crossed her arms over her chest, her face impassive. Fenris stood possessively at her side, his fists opening and closing as he focused on the remembered feeling of Marian's magic on his hand.

Seeming at his leisure, Crasta propped his legs up on the desk. "You are a spitfire of a little mage, aren't you Serah Hawke? I've heard you were not taught in a Circle. Who trained you?"

"A stronger mage than you." Marian spoke with confidence and Fenris had yet to see her even blink.

"A sharp mouth you have. Tell me, little wolf, is she always this...stimulating." His leer made Fenris want to retch.

Orana then returned to the room, bottle of wine and two glasses in hand. She set one before the magister and poured with shaking hands. He waved her away and she brought the other glass to Marian and poured for her as well. Marian let her do it and simply held the glass of wine as Orana again scurried from the room shutting the doors behind her.

Crasta raised his glass. "To...homecomings" he said and winked at Fenris.

Marian slowly, calmly tipped her glass and poured the contents onto the carpet in front of her. Then she threw the glass to the side and it shattered against an empty bookshelf. "I don't drink with my enemies" she said, and she smiled. Fenris had to stifle an unexpected snicker as he witnessed yet another reason why he was awed by this woman.

The magister simply shrugged, sipped his wine and set it back down on the desk. "To business then. It's very fortunate for you, little wolf, that you found yourself a new mistress...and such a mistress...when you did. Your former master has been very naughty."

Marian and Fenris exchanged a glance full of questions. They remained silent and let him continue.

"You did the Imperium a service killing that crass plebeian Hadriana. And you did it with such _style_, especially for a _Fereldon._ We really were impressed at your temerity. So I thought, why let such entertainment go to waste? The Archon has granted you the privilege of assisting in a matter of...annoyance to him. We learned some time ago that Danarius has been plotting to overthrow the Archon, and claim the seat for himself. You're going to kill him for us."

If Fenris had been given a glass of wine, he would have choked on it. He looked to Marian. She had an elegant eyebrow raised, but remained silent and expressionless. He couldn't help but think that she must win a great deal of coin at cards. Fenris followed suit and wore a mask of indifference.

"You don't have enough mages in this country? You need to seek me out to be your assassin? Why?" Fenris already knew the answer to Marian's question, so he answered her.

"They don't know who supports Danarius. They don't know who they can trust." Fenris sneered at the Executor.

"Ha! So they think they can trust me? The Archon must be in dire straits indeed! I have no intention of working for you." She pointed at the magister and her light laugher filled the room.

Fenris saw a small crack in Crasta's demeanor that spoke volumes. He was right. They didn't know who to trust. They couldn't very well fight a civil war if Danarius had many on his side, but they also couldn't remain inactive and risk a coup.

Marian continued. "Hadriana isn't dead because we were looking to help you. If Danarius meets her fate, you can be certain it would not have been because you asked. I will not be manipulated."

The Executor recovered quickly and he addressed Marian again. "You see, dear girl, I happen to know that you will do exactly what I ask and thank me for it." Fenris didn't like his tone. He leaned back in his chair. "I recently had the honor of entertaining a few friends of yours, _Champion." _He filled the word with mocking and contempt. "They arrived in the city not too long ago. They were very eager to _find_ you." Fenris felt Marian tense beside him. Crasta casually picked at his nails. "I must say, your Chantry trains their Seekers exceptionally well. It took me five days to break them. I had to get _very_ creative." Fenris felt nauseous. Marian went pale. "But, eventually they gave me what I wanted. Your blood is a powerful thing, girl. More powerful than you deserve. And I will enjoy _using_ it if you refuse me."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

A surreal moment passed for Hawke just then. It was as if she left her body and saw herself standing there, waist deep in shit. Like usual. And she had dragged poor Fenris into it with her. _The Maker created some people strong for a reason. _Those words were less of a consolation than she hoped. This magister had _tortured_ Chantry Seekers to obtain her phylactery. She briefly wondered at the series of events that led to this. Had the Imperial hierarchy discovered her from the vigilantism she hadn't exactly been quiet about, or had they found the Seekers first, learned about her presence and then tortured them for her blood? Would they have left Fenris alone if he had remained on his own, or if he had simply found a different mage, any other mage_,_ to help him? She supposed it didn't matter at this point. In the end, they were still waist deep.

Strangely, the cold dread of thinking about the Chantry having her phylactery seemed worse than the Imperium having it. What were they going to do? Make her tranquil? She doubted it. She doubted those pathetic templars she nearly killed even knew how to perform the Rite. Anything else she could fight. She _would_ fight. But she couldn't afford to be reckless anymore. She didn't exactly know what they _could_ do with her blood afterall. Just like in Kirkwall she was walking a fine line again. She had to protect Fenris. She had to look out for Isabela and Varric, who had come here to help her; and she still felt responsible for the hapless slaves whose lives she and Fenris had invaded.

She snapped back into her senses. She would _not_ be battled down. Not now. Not here. Not ever. She would go on. She would play along for now because she had to, vowing that she would find a way to keep everyone safe and somehow turn the tables. She turned back to the Archon's man and his sick self-satisfaction. He may have her blood, but he still needed her and she was going to do her best to exploit that.

She took a deep breath then looked at Fenris. He seemed angry and uncertain. She managed her boldest most determined smile for him and he looked at her wide eyed. She couldn't tell if he was in awe of her confidence or her insanity.

Hawke placed her hands on her hips and looked the Executor in the eyes. "This estate and everything in it is now mine, free and clear, and I must have the Archon's full legal authority to kill whoever I need to kill to get the job done." She narrowed her eyes and held one finger up at him. "_And_ you will keep all of the damn slave hunters in this cesspool of a city _off_ of Fenris permanently."

Crasta considered her demands. The way he looked at her made her skin crawl. "The _estate_ is yours. Hadriana's senate seat is _not_. You have the authority to kill whoever you need to, _within reason._ I will trust you are not so simple-minded that you do not know the difference. And as for the little wolf, well..." Hawke felt the heat pour out from Fenris's lyrium along with some of the anger he was struggling to contain. The magister chuckled. "I can't blame you for wanting him all to yourself. The lad is rather...skilled, isn't he?"

Hawke saw red. _What the fuck was that supposed to mean? _

Fenris shook with rage and took a step forward. "_Shut your mouth_..." He hissed, and he almost lunged at the magister.

The amusement fell from Crasta's face and he stood up grabbing hold of his staff. Hawke quickly stepped between the two men. She spit on the floor at the other mage and fire snaked around her fingertips. She wanted to watch him _burn_...

"I will be generous only to a point, girl." The unspoken threat and his eyes like ice chilled Hawke's breath in her throat, but she willed herself not to blink and kept the flames bright in her hands.

He now addressed Fenris. "You will wait outside for your mistress, slave. She and I will finish our discussion privately."

"He's not going any-" she immediately started to reply, but Fenris gripped her arm and interrupted her while his eyes remained trained on the other mage, staring daggers at him.

"It's alright, Marian. I will be _just_ outside the door." Fenris's unspoken threat was as chilling as Crasta's. He slowly backed his way to the door, exited and closed it behind him, but Hawke was certain that he was still holding onto the doorknob on the other side and listening just in case.

The magister sat back down, casual indifference back in place. He gestured at the door. "He has been allowed to grow wild. He will need broken again. Please let me know if you need assistance in that regard." He gave Hawke a lurid grin and she bit her tongue until she tasted blood. "I will have his ownership transferred to you. You may not be an imperial citizen but, from what I understand, you were nobility in Kirkwall. That will have to be good enough" he said dismissively.

She actually was a slave owner now. Hawke fumed inside at being driven to this. But self-righteous indignation would not help her, or Fenris, or the slaves in this house. She swallowed down her bile and her pride as she extinguished the fire in her hands. "_And_..."

Crasta rolled his eyes impatiently. "Consider all bounties for the little pet hereby nullified. Half of those hunters belonged to me anyway."

_What? _She hoped Fenris was still at the door listening to this. "Why were _you_ trying to capture him?"

He simply stared back at her, silent. Of course. He was only going to give her the information she needed to know. She waited out his long pause.

"Suffice it to say, he is valuable for _many_ reasons." With a deep laugh he rose and picked up his staff. "_Res secundae, little hawk" _he waved and spoke as he walked past her to the door. "Rest assured I will be kept apprised of your progress."

"Wait! Do you even know where I can find Danarius to kill him? We know he's not in Minrathous." She already knew what his answer would be.

"You Fereldons are the resourceful type, are you not? You found Hadriana. I have no doubt you will be able to find Danarius. Do be quick about it though. I am quite busy and would be _very_ put out if I had to _motivate_ you." He opened the door, and left.

xxxx

Fenris watched Crasta leave. He had to fight back a mighty urge to jump on him and claw him to death with his bare hands. He had been listening to the remainder of their conversation at the door. He walked back into the library.

Marian was pacing. She did not acknowledge Fenris when he entered. She looked absorbed in private thought and started mumbling a string of brazen curses in Trade. He heard and understood them of course. Though he wished he hadn't.

"I'm certain I've never heard such things said outside of the docks, let alone from a lady." He interrupted her pacing and swearing.

She stopped to look at him, fret and agitation lining her face. "Hmph. Surely you know by now how very little of a 'lady' I am." She moved to sit on top of the desk. "I assume you heard..."

"I heard." She was searching him for something. He knew because he had already searched himself for it. When he heard that Marian's bargain for his freedom from hunters meant he now legally belonged to her, he had searched himself for the bitterness and hate that he knew should be there. And it was there, brittle and raw with the weight of years, heavy in a corner of his heart, but it wasn't for her. It was for Danarius and Hadriana and Crasta, and all who were like them; but not for her. It wasn't so very long ago that he would not have been able to make that distinction. Now that he could, he felt more a free man and less a slave than he ever had.

Fenris walked over to where she sat. He moved himself to stand between her legs as they dangled from the desk. His hands wrapped around her waist and he looked at the small woman who now owned him body and soul.

"Why aren't you _angry_?" She seemed hesitant and surprised.

He caressed her cheek and tilted her head up towards his. "My anger is for them, not for you."

She turned her head away. "Fenris..."

"Stop." He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "You are _not_ them."

"I don't want to _own_ you!"

"You already do, Marian. I'm yours." He leaned in closer to her. "And you're mine, remember?" She blushed and he finally felt her relax. "For now, considering the situation in which we find ourselves, it is enough of a victory that I no longer technically belong to Danarius."

Marian's eyes moved from his to look over his shoulder. He turned and saw Orana hovering in the doorway. She carried two more bottles of wine and two glasses.

"Orana?" Marian gently spoke her name as if she didn't want to scare off a frightened child.

Orana walked over to the desk and placed the things down next to them. She stood looking at the floor and then said "There's more in the cellar. I thought..." She looked up at them hesitantly. "I thought you might need it." She abruptly bowed and hurried from the room.

Fenris just watched her run away. Marian laughed.

She picked up a bottle and smiled at him. "She's right. Let's get drunk."

xxxx

They were marking hours in wine bottles. It was difficult to tell which one of them was more drunk. Fenris was not experienced enough with it to know if such a thing could be measured in degrees. As a slave he never knew the taste of spirits. After his escape he never felt safe enough to let his senses be affected by drink, though he had wondered more than once if he could drown out the pain of his lyrium with it.

Night came and a heavy rain settled on the city with the sounds of fat droplets breaking upon shutters and stone. There was a coolness in the air that made the wine even more welcome. Fenris and Marian were sat in front of the hearth in the kitchen where the fire had burned down to embers. He would have chosen the bedroom, but she insisted they drink here.

_"Because a magister would never drink wine straight from the bottle while sitting in the kitchen Fenris and I need to feel as un-like a magister right now as possible."_

He knew the slaves had been sneaking curious glances at them all evening. Anytime one of them even came near while attending to their duties Marian would offer them a drink. No one had yet accepted.

He finished the bottle in his hand and tossed it onto a pile where it clattered and rolled away with its fellows. He looked over at Marian. She was sprawled in a chair, head lazily tipped back towards the ceiling. A half empty bottle was balanced in her fingertips. She was singing. It seemed like she was singing more to herself than to him but he closed his eyes and listened anyway, the rain seeming to keep in time. She sang an old Fereldon ballad, from a time when her homeland was controlled by Orlais. She sang of grief and loss and hope and the strength to journey on. Her voice was clear and confident and lovely, much like her.

When she finished, she leaned forward, emptied her bottle and tossed it after Fenris's. She looked over at him. Her eyes were cloudy and her lids were heavy. She was struggling more than usual to keep from questioning him. It must be the effects of the wine. But even thus, he knew she wouldn't ask. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and reached for another bottle. He wasn't prepared to deal with her pity. He didn't want it. He didn't want her to know the broken slave he actually was. He wanted to be what she deserved and that's all. If he could rid himself of his memories before the day he met her, he would and be glad for it.

He watched her watch him and neither said a word. Her expression was knowing and resolute. His drink addled mind wondered if it was possible she had magic that allowed her to read his thoughts. She looked away and joined him in starting on another bottle. She spoke. Clear and confident and lovely, much like her.

"I don't know what they did to you, Fenris. But I promise we'll kill them all for it."


	20. Chapter 20

_I never understood how the Fade worked...so...that means I can make it work however I want, right? Thanks for reading!_

_xxxx_

Chapter 20

It was an old and recurrent nightmare. Blessedly less frequent as of late, but that did not make it any easier to bear. He _knew_ he was dreaming. He knew where his sleeping body lie, but he had never been able to force himself to wake or change the events as they played out in this dark corner of the Fade.

He was being punished. The scene was an amalgamation of various past disciplines, superimposed upon which was the striking pain of his brands as he remembered from the day they were new. His mouth was sticky with blood. The air he inhaled through a broken nose was wet with it and his breath raled and crackled on its way down leaving an iron taste in his throat that turned his stomach when he swallowed. He was wearing only his skin and it burned. He scraped and tore at himself with his fingers wherever he could reach trying to erase the pain of it with different pain.

He writhed and twisted on a dirt floor trying to squirm out of himself. He heard slow steps approach him from behind and deep low laughter. A fist in his hair pulled him up to his knees. His hands moved to his neck in anticipation of what he knew came next. The collar came around his throat and was drawn tight and he gagged. From behind white strands of hair, matted with sweat, he saw a thin spray of blood escape his mouth as he coughed and choked. _Next comes the magic._ A hand snaked around to rest on his chest. Rough fingers pressed into his flesh and his markings ignited with foul energy; the lyrium burning and pulling at something deep inside him. He didn't even bother to hold back his tortured howl. Sometimes he tried, but that just made the nightmare last longer. _Better to just give in. _

_"Very good little wolf, better to just give in." _Always the same words and it always surprised him that he could hear Danarius whisper them through his screams.

xxxx

Hawke heard screaming. It came from all around her. It was like daggers in her ears and it ripped at her insides and if it didn't stop soon she was sure she would go mad. She ran. She had never been to a jungle in the real world, but that was where she found herself now, running in a jungle in the Fade. Sweat stung her eyes and strange tropical foliage lashed at her arms and her legs as she tore through. A scorching sun beat down with all the mercy of death.

She didn't know where she was going but she knew she had to find the source of the screaming. She had to stop it. Colors streaked past her in greens and browns and hot yellows. Her hair stuck to her face and she felt like she was suffocating on her own breath. The screaming went on and on. The colors began to dull and dim and they finally went black and she was running in darkness. The air around her cooled and felt clammy and damp. The screams were louder now and she fought to hold onto her sanity.

Darkness gave way to faint light lining stone passages. The terrible noise seemed to narrow and focus and Hawke found hope again when she realized it had a direction. She followed the sounds of agony, turning corners and winding through endless corridors. As she worked her way closer and closer, her heart tightened and ached and sorrow grew within her so tangible she would have thought it a demon come to possess her. She was nearly on top of the painful wailing now and she rounded a final bend. She stopped. A door stood before her immoveable and solid with not so much as a crack between it and the surrounding stone. Next to the door a woman knelt and wept.

_Sister. _The word appeared suddenly in her mind. _But this isn't Bethany, _she tried to reason with herself. And then she remembered. _Fenris's sister._ The thin elf with hair like fire looked up at her, face weary with torment.

"He's being punished" the woman said, her voice heavy and inevitable.

_Fenris. This was Fenris screaming?_ Hawke's mind fought against it. Her Fenris growled and laughed, whispered and moaned, shouted and spoke with eloquence. _Those_ were his sounds that she knew. How could _these_ desolate screams, that threatened to unhinge her with their despair, be coming from her warrior?

Hawke's tenuous control broke. She pulled the woman up and shook her "What is going on?! Why aren't you helping him? I must help him..." And she threw herself at the door, of course, finding it locked and barred. A wicked rune appeared on it glowing in mockery.

"What is this?" She demanded wild eyed and she turned back to the elf. "This is no simple nightmare! Is this rune keeping him captive here?"

"No." Fenris's sister shook her head and her eyes were bitter, defeated. "Part of him is _always_ trapped here. The rune is keeping us _out_."

_"It's not keeping me out!" _Hawke took a determined step forward and readied herself. Never before had she used magic in the Fade. It was a rule from her father she was not permitted to question. He had said her magic was too strong, too unstable and would be too dangerous magnified on this side of the Veil. But she didn't care. _Let the Veil crumble and this dark magic with it! _She must help Fenris. She lifted her hand and the rune hissed and cracked and evaporated. She waved her arm and the door was blasted off its hinges.

xxxx

The fingers left his chest and the pain stopped. Fenris fell back down onto his hands. _This is different,_ he managed to form the thought, _it shouldn't be over yet. _He lifted his eyes when he heard the sharp splinter of wood and he saw a door fly past him and shatter against the opposite wall. _This is different_...he felt different. He looked at his markings, bright and luminescent and pulsing, but there was no pain, no burn, no pull. There was something else, deep in his gut, like a spark. It was warm and solid and strong and for some reason it made him think of Marian.

And at the thought of her, as if by magic, she was there. She was a blur of white light and beauty as one delicate arm pulled him into her and the other let loose a maelstrom.

The room around them was engulfed in flames. His awareness slowly sharpened and his head cleared. He looked to Marian and saw something untamed in her eyes, her magic was unfocused and she lashed out with it in all directions. He saw the walls of his dream-made dungeon melt away like lava and in their place rose up the feral green thicket of overgrowth from another distant memory. Her fire consumed that as well, and the dream image of the Seheron jungle was burning to ash.

Marian's inferno blazed outward sterilizing the Fade until she abruptly drew it back, eyes shut tight and head shaking. _"No" _she said through a jaw clenched in concentration.

Lingering tendrils of black smoke dissipated, weaving through half burnt plant life. Fenris looked all around them and among the tangled brush he saw Danarius, standing like a tower of malice. The magister looked directly at the couple huddled together. Fenris stared back, Marian was still trying to shut out...something. Danarius gripped a collar in one of his hands. Fenris reached up to his throat to find it bare of the well worn chain. He wanted to rip Danarius apart. He wanted to attack, but he found himself frozen in place. He was uncertain and caught between his old nightmare and his new reality; caught between his old master and his new mistress, who wasn't a mistress at all, but the promise of freedom.

Fenris closed his eyes but behind his lids the jungle was still vivid before him. He fought back the memories; memories of the Seheron wilds spattered with blood and stained by the deaths of the warriors who had also promised him freedom when, in a similar moment of uncertainty, he had chosen to obey the order of a master to his slave. His gut twisted and turned and he hoped against hope that Danarius wouldn't _speak_, for he feared he would succumb to the inevitable a second time.

Then he felt the spark inside him again, solid and strong, and again he thought of Marian. _I won't let that happen with her._ The thought felt certain, more certain than anything he had experienced on either side of the Veil and he opened his eyes.

Danarius's face betrayed him. A small crack showed in the usually arrogant confidence of the tyrant revealing a thin line of anger and doubt. But it was fleeting and the magister regained his composure quickly. He smiled and laughed and it seemed too close and too loud.

"She is strong, little wolf, but strength can be a dangerous thing in the Fade. I'll look forward to seeing you both again soon..."

Before he could even try to respond, Danarius was gone, his laughter and cryptic words still echoing in Fenris's ears. But he wasn't left wondering at riddles for long.

In the distance in every direction vast hoards of demons seemed to swell towards them like waves.

_"No..." _Fenris turned back to Marian and saw her lips move with the word, but the sound was drowned out in the thunder of approaching fiends.

xxxx

_What have I done?_ Hawke's rampant magic seemed to have drawn out every demon in the Fade. Rage and Pride shouted to make themselves heard; Desire whispered in her ear; Hunger and Sloth clamored for attention. It was too much, too many and she covered her ears and swallowed her magic down. She had to get out of the Fade. She had to get Fenris out of the Fade, but when she opened her eyes on the scene that had materialized around them, she saw no exit. Fear gripped her and the demons' demands assaulted her. She was paralyzed, using every bit of everything good that was in her to resist and keep the creatures at bay. Her magic was crazed and hot inside her and she grasped frantically at what dregs remained of her control. She was losing this fight, she was losing herself, she was forgetting...

_"Marian, look at me!" _A form of unfocused pulsing light shifted in front of her eyes. _Fenris. Is this Fenris? _She blinked and squinted, the demons still loud inside her head. Her hand was pulled forward and she felt it contact warm skin and hard muscle and lyrium sang beneath her fingertips.

And she felt a spark. It was solid and strong...

Clarity roared inside her like a dragon. Everything was transparent before her now. Her wide dark eyes looked into the forests of green that stared back at her, and she knew.

_She knew._

Strength can be a dangerous thing in the Fade...but only if you're not strong _enough. _Luckily their magic was strong enough together. The demons surrounding them seemed to hesitate and the Fade itself seemed to slow as she opened her magic up again and let it flow forward to join his.

xxxx

Fenris hadn't known what he was doing. He simply knew he had to do something or she would be lost to him. Lost because of _his_ nightmare. He would not let that happen. He grabbed Marian's hand and held it to his chest. There was the familiar flare of his lyrium as he had felt and craved from her so many times in the waking world, but there was something else, something new and he sensed the exact moment when her magic made contact with the spark in his gut and things were terrifyingly clear.

And then there were no more demons and the Fade was dark and still.

Marian's wide eyes fell heavy with exhaustion and silence filled the space around them. Her hand went slack against him and he caught her just as her body collapsed. He lifted her in his arms and it suddenly seemed so easy to decide to wake and leave the Fade behind. He chose a direction at random and walked forward with Marian held tightly to him. The air wavered and the scenes shifted as he led them back to wakefulness.

Just as the last of the Fade was disappearing away he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He paused to look and his eyes met identical green ones. Green eyes that looked shocked with hope and red hair and tapered ears and a proud nose and...he _knew her. _One bare and lonely fragile memory covered in dust and tragedy surfaced in his mind in the moment before he awoke.

_"Varania?"_

xxxx

When she woke he was still holding her. They were in the bed they had taken as their own in the mansion that now belonged to Hawke. She tried to shift, but he only held her tighter.

"Fenris..."

"Her name is Varania." His voice trembled with emotion and Hawke's heart trembled with it. "I saw her in the Fade and I knew who she was and then I remembered her name."

"Fenris..." Hawke didn't know what to say.

"I remember nothing else." She still couldn't see his face. He held her close against his bare chest. She inhaled his scent of leather and lyrium and he in turn inhaled deeply in and out. He pulled her up so they were face to face. His eyes were swollen with tears that he wouldn't let fall; tears of outrage and sorrow. His hands found her hair and they clenched tightly within it. He dropped his forehead to hers and she felt again the raw vulnerability that gave substance to the deepness of his strength. He breathed and worked his fingers in her hair; his lyrium so quiet and dim it was almost silent and dark. When he finally released her, his eyes were clear and filled with purpose and resolve. "But it is more than I had and, for now, it is enough."

She kissed him lightly, her fingers brushing his cheek. She spoke against his lips, "Fenris..." She took a deep breath. His sister's name was not the only thing the nightmare had revealed to them. "Your sister..." She hesitated.

"Is a mage." He said it for her. He was stoic, unreadable.

"Yes, Fenris. And so are you."

He closed his eyes. He already knew. "I...I don't understand how that can be." He spoke in a soft whisper. Hawke wasn't exactly expecting hysterics, but this was a calmer reaction than she had hoped.

She pick up one of his hands and held it in hers. She studied it and brought it up between them. "Danarius...his ritual and the lyrium...when you were branded it _bound_ your magic somehow to the Fade. You said you were an adolescent when you received the markings? It must have been before you were able to manifest. In the nightmare, before I found you, I met your sister again. She told me part of you is always trapped there." She squeezed his hand and looked away, disgusted and indignant at what she now knew had been done to him. She choked out the words through her anger, "That bastard tethered your magic inside the Fade so he could _siphon _it from you. I think that was what he was doing when I broke into the dungeon..." Her voice trailed off, not wanting to remember the horrible screams.

Fenris leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling. "You can't be certain..." He said it as if trying to make it so.

She pushed off of him and sat up. "I'm certain, Fenris. You know it all makes sense. That's why he's collecting mages. He's trying to create more of you, more magic to chain down in the Fade so he can draw from it; more power for him to steal. I imagine that's how he thinks he can usurp the Archon. But I doubt he's been successful. It's a miracle you weren't made tranquil."

His head fell forward into his hands and he carded his fingers through his hair. He sighed.

"You're...taking this better than I thought..." She was almost worried at his seeming resignation.

He looked up at her, his face revealing not resignation, but an unrequited vengeance. Where she had expected fury and turbulence, she saw smoldering composure and it was terrifying in its determination. "It is simply one more thing that was taken from me. One more thing to make him pay for."

xxxx

So many disparate puzzle pieces were falling into place in his mind. If he were honest with himself, he was shocked that the irony of it all hadn't killed him right there. He was supposed to have been a _mage_. "A mage..." He said it aloud, trying to make believable what was easier to wrap in disbelief. The word still vaguely tasted of ashes in his mouth. If Marian hadn't been so successful at smoothing the rough edges of his hate, it's possible this revelation would have led to him throwing himself from the cliffs into the Nocen Sea to end it all.

As it was, however, this felt like anything but an end. It strangely felt like a beginning.

"I don't feel..._magical_." It was an absurdly stupid statement. He couldn't even believe he had said it.

Marian laughed. It was irreverent and inappropriate, and it made him feel better.

"Love," She squeaked out between bursts of laughter. "You are the most magical thing I've ever met."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Hawke was mightily hungover. Fenris didn't look much better. Tevinter wine and Tevinter nightmares didn't suit one another. They stumbled downstairs as the sun was rising, looking like something the Fade had chewed up and spit out. Which was actually a little bit true. Orana was waiting for them at the bottom of the large winding staircase holding two glasses. Hawke couldn't help but notice that the girl held her head a little higher this morning.

"For the love of the Maker, Orana that isn't more wine, is it?" Hawke managed a weak but playful smile.

Fenris took one of the glasses and bent his nose over it. He winced slightly. "Hangover cure" he growled out, voice an octave deeper than usual, and he walked past them both, glass in hand, toward the kitchens.

Hawke took the other glass and sniffed it warily. The slightly turbid liquid smelled of citrus and saltwater and a little elfroot. She took a small sip and she had to admit it was the least unpleasant hangover remedy she had ever tried. "Hm. Not bad. Thank you Orana, you seem to know exactly what we need when we need it."

The pale haired elf smiled, obviously pleased with herself.

"Orana," Hawke needed this to be said in no uncertain terms. "Fenris and I are going to be busy doing several dangerous things to keep ourselves and everyone here safe...well, at least several, possibly more...in the meantime, I want you to know that I don't consider anyone here a slave, and I will see you all freed...officially...somehow."

Orana looked Hawke in the eyes. "I know" she said, smile still on her face. And with a curt bow, she turned and walked away.

The throbbing in her head having lessened and the warmth in her heart having grown, Hawke followed after Fenris. She found him sitting in a chair in front of the hearth sharpening one of her daggers. He drew the whetstone across the blade in long strokes. She took the chair next to him.

"I have to talk to Crasta" she announced. "I know that duplicitous scum knows exactly what Danarius is doing and I'm going to make him tell me everything about it. And everything he knows about you."

Fenris looked up from the dagger. The shortness of his temper at the moment was written plainly across his face. "_He_ doesn't _know_ anything about me, Marian. Despite his filthy implications." He made no attempt to conceal his vexation.

She knew his feelings were not directed at her, but she felt the need to remind _him_ of that. "Fenris, you know that was not my meaning. I have kept my promise not to ask you about anything you do not wish to speak of. I intend to continue keeping that promise." It was a gentle admonition, but just firm enough to elicit a guilty frown from him.

He put down the blade and the whetstone and made a noise that sounded like a combination of a sigh and a grunt while he rubbed his forehead. "I have a headache."

"Is this your first hangover?" Hawke asked trying to hold back a giggle. Somehow the angry, irritated and dangerous elf in front of her seemed suddenly...cute.

"I thought you promised not to ask me anything?" He smirked at her. It was an irritated smirk, but a smirk nonetheless. He leaned back in his chair still rubbing his head. "Why must we speak with him? You are a more skilled and capable mage than any I have known. Surely you must know something about the type of magic Danarius is using?"

"First of all, I said '_I_' have to talk to Crasta. I'm not letting that depraved bastard anywhere near you. Second of all, I'm not exactly what you would call a scholastically oriented mage, Fenris. I was an _apostate_. From a family of _apostates_. When we weren't running from templars and were lucky enough to have books, they were certainly _not_ books on magic. Besides, I didn't really have to learn about casting spells or using arcane rituals and such. My magic was always just...there. My father simply taught me how to control it."

"What is that supposed to mean? And if not magic, what is _in_ all of those books that you have with you now? And you are most certainly _not_ going to see Crasta alone."

This was going to be a longer conversation than she thought...likely followed by an argument. She prepared herself to address his questions one at a time. "My sister started to show her magic when she was thirteen. It was little bits of elemental foolishness. My father had to teach her to cast properly." She considered how best to explain things to a mage who had never used his magic; had never even felt it inside him. "She had to learn how to form spells, how to call upon and weave her energy. She had to memorize rune crafts and recite incantations. If she wanted to do something especially taxing she needed lyrium and a staff."

Fenris was listening intently, so she continued. "I never did those things. For as far back as my memories go, I _always_ had the ability to use my magic. I always knew it was there and was just able to _use_ it without thinking much, if that makes any sense. I can use a staff, drink lyrium potions, form runes and recite spells just like any other mage, but I don't really need to. While my father was teaching Bethany to draw her magic out, he was teaching me how to hold mine in and only use what was necessary if any was necessary at all."

Old memories of her family flooded back to her and she could almost taste the clean cool air and smell the peat of the Fereldon woods. She thought about her sister's calm presence and quiet demeanor and she _missed_ her with all of her heart. "Bethany was the smart one. She _understood_ magic. I just know how to wield it."

She paused with a long sigh. "And under no circumstances, according to my father, was I ever supposed to wield it in the Fade. Which I had done a perfect job of avoiding until last night."

Fenris's eyes fell to the floor. "I haven't yet thanked you." He looked distant and conflicted. "But you could have let me be. You should have. I would have woken up eventually, I always do." Hawke's heart ached a little when she realized he actually thought she should have left him there to suffer.

"Fenris, the only way you would have stayed there was over my smoking corpse. Unfortunately, it almost came to that, so I should be the one thanking you for not letting me be lost to the demons."

He stood up and took the few steps over to where she sat. He ran his fingers through her hair and rubbed his thumb against her cheek. "You understand that I won't ever let that happen." A plain statement and she knew it to be a true one.

"See," She beamed at him. "I will protect you, and you will protect me. Told you."

He rolled his eyes and sat back down, resuming sharpening her blade. "Must you always be right?"

"No, I mustn't. I just always am. As for my books, they certainly won't be any help to us. They're just stories. Mostly romantic nonsense if you must know, but a girl has to have some guilty pleasures. Varric actually wrote a couple of them..." Should she say this now? They had had a horrible night. They were hungover. He had already had more than one unsettling bit of his past thrust out into the open. Was she really going to pour salt in his wounds by bringing this up? Not that she thought of it that way, but she knew that was how his prickly pride would interpret it.

It had been something she was wondering at, and waiting impatiently to address. She first realized it when they were burning Hadriana's occult books. He kept turning them over in his hands with an odd expression on his face before handing them to her to toss on the fire. Of course, he had said nothing, but she wasn't totally ignorant of the way things were in this country.

With only another brief moment of consideration, she decided she was only hurting him by letting him continue on in life like this, especially when she could do something about it. "I could read them to you sometime...or I could...teach you how to read them..."

Fenris stopped sharpening and looked up at her. He narrowed his eyes and just stared at her for a long time, an inscrutable expression on his face. He finally spoke. "How long were you waiting to offer this to me?"

She should have known he'd see through her. "How long would you have waited before you asked me to teach you?"

He resumed sharpening. "We'll never know now." She could see him smiling even though he had bent his head back over the dagger.

"So, that's a yes, right?"

"You know that it is." He raised his eyes to her again, gratitude written in them.

xxxx

"...After that came the argument." Hawke was catching Varric up on events. "He finally agreed to let me meet with Crasta if you and Bianca came with me, but I had to do a _lot_ of convincing."

"Oh? Did that convincing involve anything worth putting in my new story?" Varric wagged his eyebrows and stroked his beardless chin.

"Started a new one already did you?"

"Come on Hawke, this one stands to put the rest to shame. Only _you_ would move from a possessed renegade grey warden mage, to a fugitive ex-slave elf branded in _lyrium_, of all things, who is also actually a mage! I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. You know what they say, reality is stranger than fiction. Normal men just don't do it for you, do they?"

"You always put things in perspective for me Varric." Hawke shook her head as they finally reached the top of the seemingly endless staircase. They had been climbing to the top of the spire that housed the offices of the Executor. Hawke was reminded of the Viscount's offices in Kirkwall. If possible, this was even more pointlessly pompous. Several Imperial templars stood at attention in doorways. A few pretentious looking mages were talking as they waited for admittance. One tall-, though to Hawke everyone here seemed tall, -annoyed looking man in noble attire walked directly over to her and Varric.

"You are the _Fereldon _woman I suppose, the one called Hawke?" He looked down his large and crooked nose at them.

Varric answered. "What gave her away? Was it her striking beauty, her confident countenance...or the smell of wet dog?"

Hawke snickered in spite of herself. The man wasn't amused. "The Executor is expecting you, this way."

"Bianca and I will be right out here Hawke. Blow something up if you need us." Varric waved as she followed the man down a corridor. He gestured her through the doors to a private office and shut them behind her. Crasta sat behind a large and ornate desk, smiling as she entered and looking just as slimy as when they last met.

Hawke crossed her arms over her chest. No reason to prevaricate. "You knew what Danarius was doing."

The man's smile got a little wider and somehow, a little more threatening. She wouldn't admit it to herself but, he unnerved her. "What I know is not your concern. Your only concern, girl, is obeying my order to kill him."

"I don't know where he is and I don't know what kind of magic he is using or is capable of using. Walking into this blind is going to get me killed, and while I'm sure that would _amuse_ you, it would leave you without an assassin, now wouldn't it?" Hawke's lips were tight with aggravation and not a small amount of trepidation. She didn't like the way he looked at her and she cursed herself for leaving Fenris behind. They had hardly left each other's side recently and she felt stronger with him around, safer, though she only now began to notice it in his absence.

Crasta rose slowly and made his way around the desk to stand in front if Hawke. "While your unrefined manner is certainly entertaining in its own primitive way, it is also disheartening that a mage with your ability is so woefully ignorant." He reached out to lift Hawke's chin with his finger. She jerked away reflexively and moved back to put several steps between them. She was careful not to break eye contact. She'd be damned if she allowed herself to be touched but that didn't mean she would be intimidated.

He shrugged his shoulders and walked away to wander the room as he continued to speak. "You dreamt of a jungle did you not?"

Hawke had to grind her teeth together to hide her shock. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how he came by his information. Either his spy network was better than Varric's, or everyone in this city was eavesdropping on everyone else's dreams.

"Danarius always was partial to Seheron. Lovely climate. Your elf will know his way around if you've never had the pleasure to visit."

Wonderful. More Maker-forsaken heat. "And his magic? I assume you know he is controlling the mana of _two_ mages? I assume you also know he is trying to replicate the process to draw even more power?"

"Of course I _know_, dear girl, I was the one who helped Danarius create Fenris in the first place."

Well that explained a great deal of Fenris's massive hatred and disproportionate fear for this man. "And now it's coming back to bite you in the ass" she replied, but he ignored her.

"Tell me, did you get to _taste_ the little wolf's magic in the Fade. He is nothing if not _delicious_." He drew out the words as they passed over his lips.

Hawke wanted to vomit, but she kept still as a bowstring, taut with fury. "Is that what you call it, '_tasting'_? I would call it theft and perversion."

"Any worse than your perversion, rutting with the beast? I must say, it's certainly within your right to have him, but honestly my pet, sharing your bed with him afterwards? People will talk. Then again, though I can't say I've personally indulged, from what I understand, his charms have pleased many..."

Hawke snapped. Before she knew what she was doing, she had a dagger in her hand and was almost able to throw it across the room at the magister. Almost, except her arm could not complete the action. And then her hand opened without her consent and the dagger fell to the floor. Tightness gripped her muscles, something squeezing them and holding them in place. She couldn't move. She stood, body turned, arm raised and hand extended, unable to reclaim control over herself.

Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to fight back panic. She moved her eyes to follow Crasta as he continued to wander the room. His movements were unhurried. She saw him pull something out from under his robes. He fondled a small vial in his fingers. It glowed bright red.

_Fuck. _It was the only word her mind seemed able to form.

"On your knees little hawk." The command was harsh and though she pulled desperately at her magic, she just couldn't grasp it or bring it forward and her body was no longer her own. She fell to her knees.

"You will go to Seheron. If you feel you need more power to combat Danarius, then bring your little wolf and _use_ him as he was meant to be used. The only other thing you need to know is that you should not question your betters." The phylactery disappeared from his hand and he came to stand in front of her. "This will remind you of that for now." He moved his thumb to the side of her face and lightly brushed her skin. If she could have bit him she would have. Without so much as a change of facial expression, he pulled back his hand, now balled into a fist and punched her in the face. She sprawled sideways and fell, volitional movement still out of her reach. She could feel her blood trickle into her eye as she lay there. She heard him laugh and then she caught a glimpse of the black hem of his robes as he walked out, leaving her on the floor.

xxxx

Fenris pursed his lips and held in a little choke. He studied the green liquid remaining in the glass. At Isabela's urging he accepted the drink and now he regretted it. The pair of them sat at a table in Varric's room at the inn, waiting for Marian and Varric to return. He was still cursing himself for not accompanying her. He was useless sitting here attempting to ease his anxiety with whatever it was Isabela had filled his glass with.

"Nothing helps a hangover like staying drunk." The pirate tossed back her own drink. If given the choice Fenris would have preferred to wait for Marian alone, but he suspected that she insisted he wait with Isabela thinking the woman could keep him from changing his mind and following her. She had attempted several avenues of conversation with him, most of which revolved around thinly veiled sexual innuendo. He set his glass back on the table and pushed it away from him.

"Arrgh! You are just _no fun_. You're lucky that brooding makes you more attractive or I simply don't know what I'd do with you." She winked at him. He got up and started pacing. Isabela sighed in defeat.

With some semblance of seriousness on her face she spoke again. "You really don't have to worry about Hawke, handsome. The girl can take care of herself. Not to mention, Varric wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. He plays coy but he has a sentimental streak, that one. Loves her like a sister. And in case you haven't figured it out yet, let me tell you something else about Hawke. No matter what kind of fight she finds herself in, she doesn't _think_ she might win. She knows with absolute certainty that she _will_ win. And damned if she isn't always right. It's what makes her so bleeding sexy..." Isabella purred.

Fenris stopped his pacing and glared down at her. "Exactly how well do you know Marian?" Fenris suddenly realized he liked it better when the only past lover of Marian's he knew about was dead.

"Oh, calm down, I've never had the pleasure." Isabela rolled her eyes, and then she licked her lips. "But if she ever let me, I know I'd enjoy it. Come to mention it, I'm sure I'd enjoy a man like you as well."

"I imagine you've enjoyed many." He replied dryly.

"I'm just saying, if the two of you ever feel like sharing, keep me in mind. I bet she can do fantastic things with those magical little fingers of hers." Fenris rolled his shoulders and bent his head, trying not to blush. He must have been unsuccessful because Isabela just laughed.

Thankfully his discomfort was interrupted when he heard familiar footfalls in the hallway. "Finally" he said with frustration and opened the door to see Marian standing right there...with a red and swollen eye, the thin line of a cut across her brow. He felt some kind of feral noise vibrate in his throat as he pulled her inside the room, more rough than he intended, and brought her to the open window to look at her in the light.

"Now, Elf, it's not what it looks like." Varric held up his hands in appeasement.

"It looks like he struck you in the face." Fenris couldn't stop his lyrium from burning loudly.

"I guess it is what it looks like then." Varric sat down next to Isabela.

"There's no need to _glow_ Fenris, I'm obviously fine." She put her hand on his chest and he wished he wasn't wearing his breastplate so he could feel her touch and reassure himself that she was alright.

"Yet you couldn't heal it, could you?" His voice and his markings were growing into nearly a shout. He delicately traced the edges of the bruise with his fingers. He _knew_ this would happen. He had _let_ this happen. Through clenched teeth he swore an ugly streak in every language he knew.

"I only understood about half of that, but I'll assume it was just variations on a theme. Anyway yes, I tried and no, I couldn't heal it but that suits me just fine. I wouldn't want to forget to add a bit of retribution for this" She circled her damaged eye with a finger "into my elaborate plan to lead him to a painful death."

"Elaborate, eh?" Varric questioned skeptically. "Hawke, you're plans don't tend to get anymore elaborate than a full frontal assault."

Marian smiled and slid comfortably into jovial banter with the dwarf. "Whatever works." She turned back to Fenris. "I'm not made of glass Fenris. I assure you, I'm as tough as they come. You'll learn to appreciate that you have a woman who can roll with the punches...literally." She kissed him innocently on the lips then sat at the table with her friends. He was left standing trying to hold onto his worry and concern even though he knew she was right. He did appreciate her. Everything about her. And he knew he would have her no other way. Even if that meant he had to fight back the uncontrollable urge to hurt anyone who threatened her.

He joined them at the table. Marian leaned in towards Isabela. "Now, do you think you can get us to Seheron?"


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Fenris had never liked ships. The spaces too tight, the people too many, everything too close, and no where to run. With Danarius, he had travelled countless times between Minrathous and Seheron and each time was a strangulating microcosm of captivity within captivity. Traveling on the sea had gotten mildly less unbearable after his escape, when he had been on his own, but only just. It was an occasional necessity, nothing more. Perhaps that was part of his lingering distrust for the pirate. Anyone who would volunteer for this as a way of life and surrender themselves to the whim of the winds and the tides was not to be trusted, in his opinion. The uncertainty of it all was too much like slavery.

As the time passed in preparation for their journey he grew more and more unsettled. Events seemed be moving faster than he had prepared for and in unexpected directions. Unbelievably unexpected directions. He could still see the path ahead of him, but when he first arrived in Minrathous he could picture it as a straight line between him and the lifeless body of his former master. Now, the path seemed to wind and turn and parts of it were covered in shadow.

In sharp contrast to the dismal clouds of foreboding that Fenris seemed to want to gather around them, Marian was a beacon of clarity that somehow grew brighter even as more and more trials were placed before her. Her eyes were alight with determination, her steps filled with purpose and her single-minded willful pursuit of _winning _was slowly pushing against Fenris's doubts and concerns. He also noticed that Varric and Isabela both happily fell into step alongside her resolute march to victory. Isabela's words rang true that not only did Marian seem to believe they could "win", but the dwarf and the pirate seemed to believe it as well as long as they followed her lead. His lover seemed to have Andraste's own charisma, which was fortunate because nothing short of that would have gotten him onto this boat headed to the epicenter of what he now knew to be the dark magic of all his nightmares.

Fenris leaned against the railing of Isabela's ship, the _Dauntless_, as the crew readied them to disembark. He took shallow breaths trying not to inhale the rancid smell of fish and saltwater. He stretched his head back to look up at the sun and then hung it down to look into the grey water beneath it. Bits of shouting, the sound of the breeze and the repetitive lapping and smacking of the waves against the hull filled his ears.

"Oi, Elf!" Fenris looked up to see one of the crew approaching him. It was a massive wall of a human with rolls of muscles threatening to break through his skin and a bald head that reflected the sun. "Here, this is for you." The man handed him a small piece of parchment.

Fenris grabbed the thing in annoyance. "Is this from Marian?"

"Who? Oh, Hawke. Aye it's from Hawke, she asked me to give it to you. Why do you call her 'Marian' anyway?"

Fenris tried not to sound aggravated, but he was largely unsuccessful. "Because that is her name."

"But everyone calls her 'Hawke'."

"_I_ do not." Without further acknowledgment or thanks, Fenris turned back to lean over the water with his note. The large human shrugged and walked away.

The damned persistent woman had taken to communicating with him in writing. At the estate, she had had the slaves passing on bits of parchment to him at all hours. She had stuffed notes in his boots, shoved them under wine bottles, wrapped them around the hilt of his sword and stuck them on its blade. In a cheeky bit of fun, she had even covered herself in them...and nothing else...and he had found her like that on their bed. He smiled to himself and shifted his weight. That, at least, had been entertaining. In the same determined fashion with which she undertook everything, she was breaking down the walls of his ignorance and teaching him to read. The only way he could think of to repay her for it was to learn as thoroughly and as quickly as possible and hope she knew how grateful he was.

He opened the scrap of paper and he saw her now familiar boldly written script. "COME BELOW" it read. He crumpled it in his hand, tossed it over the edge into the water and did as her note instructed.

He found her in Isabela's cabin. The two women were bent over a large table covered in maps. He was unexpectedly captivated by the clevage of two pairs of breasts, spilling out a bit and slowly shifting up and down with their breath and the curve of two pert backsides, sticking out just slightly as they leaned forward. It made him feel...normal, that he could embrace the freedom of stopping to admire beauty. He was a man afterall. Isabela's brazen request, that he and Marian "share", briefly floated through his mind. Isabela looked up at him before Marian did. Her mouth twisted in a knowing and lascivious grin when she realized he was staring and she moved her gaze to Marian, who was still studying the maps. The pirate licked her lips. A streak of possessiveness shot through him and he cleared his throat to get Marian's attention. No. There would be no _sharing_.

Marian gestured for him to look over one of the maps. "Fenris, is this where the small island is where you said Danarius holds a fortress?" She pointed to the archipelago just to the north and east of Seheron's main city.

He came up behind her, not-so-inadvertently brushing against her as he leaned over the table. "Yes, here." He pointed to the island closest to the mainland. "It has mostly a rocky shoreline. The Qunari have never been able to take control of this group of islands. Their dreadnoughts are too cumbersome to navigate through and it's all too easy to take out smaller boats from the cliffs. As it is," he looked to Isabela, "the _Dauntless_ will have to make berth in the city's port and we'll have no choice but to chance using a smaller boat to gain access ourselves."

"Just to be clear, Handsome, there are no Qunari in the city _right now_ are there?" Isabela's sultry voice was laced with a hint of unease.

"They have not had a presence in the city since...well...since Marian drove them out of Kirkwall." Fenris glanced down at the small mage beside him. "After that, they withdrew what forces had been operating there presumably so the newly ascended Arishok could consolidate his power, but then they were never redeployed. The threat of attack, however, is always present."

"Hear that sweetling? It seems you drove the Qunari out of Seheron as well. You're just the Imperium's little workhorse aren't you?" Fenris felt Marian bristle at Isabela's very unfunny joke.

"Yes, I do always seem to find myself on the wrong side of manipulation, don't I?"

Isabela's eyes fell. "Hawke, I..."

Marian simply shook her head in easy dismissal. "It's alright," she said as she moved her hand over Fenris's, weaving her fingers through his. "Everything happens for a reason Isabela."

xxxx

Several days had passed and Minrathous was left far behind them. Fenris was looking for Marian again. Evening had settled and cast the ship in shadows of greys and blacks. He found her naked and sprawled across the small bed in their cabin. He saw delicate beads of sweat glisten on her skin in the random streaks of moonlight that entered the room.

She tilted her head up a slight bit. "How can you take this heat? It's worse with each inch further north we go." Her head fell back down to the bed.

"There is a thin breeze tonight. Would you like to go up to the deck?" He immediately regretted asking. She fidgeted a little and stretched, all lissome muscle and soft curves. He hoped she said no.

"Can I go up like this?"

"No."

"Then, no."

Fenris couldn't help the corner of his mouth turning up in a lopsided grin. He leisurely slipped out of his own armor and clothes. His opinion of ship travel had altered somewhat on this voyage. The crew largely avoided him. Varric told him it was a combination of fear and respect, but it mattered not to him why, just that they did. Isabela even seemed to be giving him his space. Varric told him that was because Marian had threatened her. His days were spent reading the few books they had brought for him to practice with, or playing cards with the dwarf. In the evenings he would listen to Marian sing songs from her country with the crew. In the nights she would make love to him as if she thought it would shut them out of the Fade, and for all he knew, it did because he had no nightmares and woke each morning rested and tangled in her arms.

He joined her in the bed. She twisted herself and straddled his waist. His favorite view. She placed her hand on his chest and closed her eyes to concentrate. The lyrium beneath her fingers shifted and sang.

"I do not know why you persist, Marian. It is clear I have no magic on this side of the Veil." She let her hand fall from his chest.

"I just can't imagine what kind of magic they used to do such a thing. I've been no help to you. I should be of more help to you, Fenris." He had lost count of how many times they had had this conversation. He had no adequate words to tell her how wrong she was, how much she had given him and helped him already, but he had tried. This time, he simply sat up and kissed her. He twisted his tongue into hers and tasted it in his mouth. He inhaled her breath as if it was life. The wetness at her center rubbed against him where she sat aloft and he took hold of her hips, lifting and tilting her so he could enter. When he slipped inside her, the world around him disappeared as it always did. There was no more ship and no more moonlight. There was no more pain and no lyrium in his skin. No tortured memories and no missing ones. There was just Marian and the feeling of her magic and the other feeling inside him that he was elated and terrified to realize was love.

xxxx

Hawke couldn't help but wonder if he had made love to her to shut her up. She supposed he didn't know her that well afterall.

"Fenris?"

"That wasn't enough to silence your fretting?" He flipped her over onto her back and perched above her. One of his hands grasped her thigh and pulled her leg up around his waist. She stopped him with her finger on his mouth as he leaned in to try to kiss her.

"Have you had any more nightmares?"

Fenris sighed and pushed himself off of her. He rose from the bed and walked over to the small window. He stared out at the sea. "I have not. Is that not a good thing?"

"Of course that's a good thing. I just wish we knew more about what to expect when we arrive. If we could find your sister again and speak with her..."

"Marian, I do not want you seeking out my sister in the Fade. It is dangerous and there is no guarantee that I would be with you. We still do not know what threat she may pose if any."

"She's not a threat Fenris. I truly believe she trying to protect you."

"Exactly. You said she told you that she did not want my family to be used against me again, correct? We have no idea what that means. Even if she has no ill intentions of her own, we do not know how Danarius could use her against us. The Fade is not the place to find that out. If what we suspect is true, that Danarius does have her, then we will see her soon enough when he is dead."

Hawke got up and walked over to where Fenris stood. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair then let her hand rest on the nape of his neck. "Love, I am certain that nothing, in the history of either of our lives, was ever that simple."

He turned his head to the door. "Isabela approaches."

After three blunt knocks Isabela called out from the other side of the door. "Hawke, can I speak with you in my cabin? Elf and clothes are optional." They heard her footsteps walk back down the corridor.

Hawke moved to gather her clothing. "Coming?" She looked over her shoulder at Fenris as she bent down to pick up her smalls.

"No. I do not want to give her any ideas."

xxxx

Hawke noticed Isabela looked a little disappointed when she showed up in her cabin clothed and without an elf.

"I don't feel good, Hawke." Isabela folded her arms across her chest and paced the room.

"Well where's that pretty healer you've been bedding? I'm sure she has several clever spells to cure whatever ails you. You don't need me, you know I'm the last mage you want trying to heal you."

"I don't know, Hawke, you've been doing quite a job of it on your elf. All his prickly bits seem less prickly lately. But, that's not what I mean. I'm fine. But the air...and the water...I don't like how they _feel_. It's a sailor thing. Something's on the wind. I can smell it. Or sense it. Or whatever. Anyway, sweet thing, I'm worried, so you should be too."

Hawke couldn't help but think that this was less than helpful. Not one blessed thing about anything they were doing _didn't_ worry her. No reason not to keep piling it on. "I suppose it isn't possible for you to be even a hair more specific?"

"If I could, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Isabela sat on top of her map covered table. "Hawke, the reason I'm telling you this is because, since we're tits deep in shit again, I want you to know what you don't _have_ to worry about. It's good to see you happy for a change...with Fenris, I mean, not with being tits deep. It's just _right_. I was worried about you when I left you in Minrathous. I kept wishing you had stayed in Kirkwall or come with me. But now, I'm glad. See, you and Anders..."

Hawke shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Isabela, that's the past..."

"Let me finish. You and Anders. It was wrong, Hawke. All wrong. I just didn't know it until I saw you with Fenris. I should have seen it before then. A better friend wouldn't have let you get so deep into...that."

"Isabela, please..." Hawke had shut the door on that chapter. She didn't want it re-opened.

"This one is worth it, Hawke."

"Uh...what?" She wasn't sure she understood where Isabela was going with this.

"You and Fenris. He's worth it. Whatever you two are is worth it. Whatever it is on the horizon that worries me, I can tell you, it isn't him. I just wanted you to know...you know...as your friend."

This was easily the most awkward conversation she had ever had with Isabela. And it was also the most meaningful. Hawke was sure she'd regret it, but she closed the distance between them and pulled the other woman into an embrace.

When Isabela grabbed her ass, she immediately regretted it. Hawke pulled away and Isabela pouted. "Thanks, Isabela. For the talk, not the groping. It means a lot coming from you."

The pirate winked. "That's me. I'm a helper."

xxxx

A/N: If you're interested in Fenris's reading lesson that he mentioned I posted the little vignette as a companion bit under _Diversions_, Chapter-"Notes". Thanks for reading.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"_Deserted_?" Fenris was incredulous.

"Deserted." Varric turned away, obviously done with having to answer the same question over and over.

Fenris sat next to Marian at the table in Isabela's cabin. The _Dauntless_ was docked, but he and Marian had yet to leave the ship. She had made several impassioned attempts to persuade the small group that a direct offensive on Danarius's fortress was the most desirable plan. Instead, Varric had suggested that he and Isabela first survey their quarry and attempt to slip onto the island undetected to gather information. They would be less conspicuous than a lyrium marked elf and a, (much as he loved her), overly outspoken and largely indelicate mage from Fereldon.

At first, and as predicted, Marian dismissed Varric's plan citing several irrational reasons that essentially amounted to her wanting to kill things as soon as possible. Much as Fenris agreed with the foundation of her argument that, yes, killing things was the ultimate outcome, he decided in favor of reason and strategy. When he supported Varric and suggested that the two of them wait on the ship pending reconnaissance, he was not expecting she would relent without further quarrel. But that was exactly what happened and to the abject amazement of her friends.

Varric pulled him aside a bit later on and said, "Elf, that was the first, and I mean the _first_ time I've ever seen Hawke just...just..._listen_ to someone else. I don't know what you did to get that to happen, but oh could we have used you _years_ ago!"

So Elf and Mage had allowed Pirate and Dwarf to take a small boat to the island that should have housed Danarius, but instead they found...

"Nothing? Really? How is that even possible?" Marian was apparently just as incredulous as he was.

Varric threw his arms up in the air with his back turned to them. Isabela answered. "No magister, no slaves, no minions, no demons. There wasn't even any stuff inside to steal, and believe me, I looked. There were stone walls and empty air and that's it. So, now what?"

Fenris rose to pace the room. He wasn't sure what exactly he had been expecting but it wasn't this. He had assumed Danarius would know that they were coming, but never did he think the magister would run. The man's avarice knew no limit. He had not hunted Fenris for years across half of Thedas simply to give up what he considered to be his possession. Especially one so valuable.

They were all silently considering their next possible set of options. Fenris spoke first. "There are few other places he would be able to operate with impunity. The Archon knew he was a threat and no matter how many supporters he may have had in the ranks of the magisterium, whether by choice or no, Danarius was still driven from Minrathous. Seheron holds the easiest availability of resources for him outside of the capital and the most protection from interference in his plans. He would not just abandon it entirely. There must be more here we're missing."

"If there really is nothing there, then it should be safe for Fenris and I to go and have a look around ourselves. We might be able to...I don't know..._feel_ something." Marian's brow was deeply furrowed as she spoke. "Or maybe I can use the energy in the place to weave a spell to help us find him." She squinted and grimaced as if trying to remember long forgotten childhood lessons.

Varric looked at her with a dubious expression. "Seriously, Hawke? You mean you have magic where people don't die?"

Marian feigned a look of shock at the dwarf and was about to respond to the affront when Fenris decided he had had enough. He grabbed her by the arm and led her out of the cabin. "It's decided." Fenris felt so close he could taste the vengeance on his tongue. This unexpected turn of events would not deter him. They would find Danarius. "Marian and I will go in the morning."

xxxx

Fenris floated along on his back in frigid black water. The red sky above him blurred and wavered. As the water lapped at his ears he could hear bits of muffled whispers but couldn't make out words.

_I shouldn't be here..._

He was pulled under. He felt arms wrap around his waist like a vice and he kicked and struggled, his head bobbing up and then under again. He choked and sputtered out the cold water like icicles in his throat. He flailed his arms madly, fighting the pull at his midsection that was trying to bring him down further. He twisted and curled into a ball and he let his lyrium flare. A shockwave of white light illuminated the dark water and the force pulling him suddenly released. He kicked himself up to the surface again and swam desperately for the sandy banks. The river seemed to stretch out before him endlessly as he stroked against the currents.

On the very distant shore, a speck of a figure was wildly animated. He swam harder, lyrium flashing, his breath tearing at his chest. He saw the form of a woman through the wet tendrils of his hair and the water running into his eyes. She waved her arms and her mouth was moving...shouting. He couldn't hear what she was saying.

Hands grabbed at his ankles and tried to pull him under again. He kicked out and he felt the lyrium burn hot even against the freezing water. He was almost to the shore now, and the woman kept shouting. He saw long red hair whip around a familiar face.

_Varania_

His limbs couldn't move fast enough. He knew he moved forward but the shore started receding away from him again. The shouts, however, started to grow in his ears and he could make out the words now.

"wake up..."

He concentrated.

"Wake Up..."

He stopped swimming and just floated there. He closed his eyes.

"WAKE UP!"

xxxx

"FENRIS WAKE UP!"

He shot straight up. He was drenched in sweat but he was shivering. Hot and humid air entered his lungs. His blinked his eyes and focused. Fingers dug into his shoulders. Marian was shaking him.

"What...?" His voice cracked. He felt Marian's hands shoot energy into his lyrium and suddenly his senses spilled back into reality. Her eyes were urgent and she was standing beside the bed. There was yelling outside. He whipped his head to the door. A rune burned on it, crackling and sizzling and throbbing out towards them as it absorbed pounding from the other side. He heard metal clamor and swords being drawn from scabbards. He heard swearing and the pounding against the door grew more violent.

"FENRIS! Are you with me? Focus! My rune won't hold. They're templars, I can feel it. I don't know where our friends are. We have to fight? Can you fight?"

He wasn't given a choice. Marian's rune cracked and disappeared and the door burst open. Two men pushed simultaneously into the small room. Marian released Fenris, magic gathering around her and she shoved out at the intruders with it, but her force was met with the wave of a hand from one of the men and she staggered backwards and clutched at her chest. Fenris's lyrium burned and with a primal yell he launched himself at the men.

He was able to tackle the one that attacked Marian. He wrested the man's shield from his grip and turned it on him, slamming it down onto his face. The other enemy came up from behind and yanked Fenris off of his comrade, practically lifting the elf into the air.

Suddenly the man let go of him and screamed. Fenris stumbled back down to the ground and saw him claw at his head and wail as blood seeped out of his nose. Fenris turned and saw a wicked smile grace Marian's face. She grunted in satisfaction as she finished the man she had in the grasp of her deadly spell and he fell to floor face first. The other templar had recovered by now and again he sent a pulse of hateful magic-stifling power at Marian and this time she was pushed back against a wall.

Fenris moved in a flash of lyrium light and grabbed his sword from where it leaned against the opposite wall. In one broad sweep the templar lost his head and it tumbled to the floor at Marian's feet. She steadied herself and stood. He grabbed her daggers off of the table by the bed and tossed them to her.

There were dozens of uneven heavy footsteps landing above them and the sounds of struggle echoed all around. More yelling and the clash of metal came from the corridor.

Fenris cursed himself and all the gods. They were on a ship and there was no where to run. He grabbed her hand and pulled her after him into the narrow hallway.

Just as they exited their room someone shouted at them. "DUCK!" It was Varric and they both hit the floor. Two bolts from Bianca, firing in rapid succession, sang past their heads and found marks in the chest of another would be attacker.

He rose, pulling Marian up with him. Varric rushed towards them cocking another bolt in Bianca. Fenris's voice was rough with anger and fright that he didn't want to own. He looked to the others. "What happened, what is going on?"

Marian's reply was solid and clear, because she knew that was what was needed and Fenris felt bolstered by it. "We were asleep and I heard a warning shout from the sentry. Not seconds later, those templars were trying to break down the door. I couldn't wake you. It was obvious something was trying to keep you in the Fade."

"I was in the black river. Something was pulling me under. My sister was shouting at me to wake." Fenris's mind grasped at the fading wisps of his dream, trying to remember.

Varric ushered them forward impatiently towards the stairs leading to the deck. "Much as I love stories about the Fade, we have to find Rivaini, now go!"

Fenris pulled Marian closer to him as they ascended the stairs to the deck. An ominous feeling coursed through him alongside his battle rush. His fingers curled tighter around her wrist, not wanting to let her go.

xxxx

Fenris was still holding onto her wrist, pulling her along. Something in his grip told her that he was holding onto more than just her muscle and bone.

They pushed forward onto the deck and walked into a mad scene. Hawke saw every man and woman of Isabela's crew engaged in battle. Hawke smelled blood magic in the air and it raised the hairs on her skin. There were templars, bought for a fix of lyrium, and maleficarum, bought with a demon's promise, fighting alongside each other and against Hawke's people.

She and Fenris both moved at the same time, breaking their point of contact. His sword flashed past her, a streak of bright metal in the moonlight and then Fenris himself was a streak of light as he carved through a line of Rage demons that one of the blood mages had summoned. Hawke reached out with her magic and grabbed at the water flowing around the ship. A wave rose straight up at her command and she swiped it across the ship's bow, washing at least several of their opponents overboard.

The magic drew the attention of a templar and she felt the cold silence come upon her. She drew her daggers and started weaving in and around the chaos, letting her blades cut wherever they could, trying to reduce the enemy numbers.

She caught a glimpse of Varric dancing with Bianca, where the couple had made their way to the stern. Isabela was alongside them. She was shadow and sharp blades, darting faster than Hawke could follow with her eyes as she tried to keep her crew alive. But Hawke had lost track of Fenris. She sliced her way through two Shades and called out for him.

The reply she received was an agonizing sound and she felt before she saw his lyrium burn white hot against the dark of the night. She shot her head around to the sound and saw two blood mages surrounding Fenris where he stood at the bow that was still wet from her wave. The glowing red spiteful lines of a rune were quickly expanding beneath his feet. He had dropped his sword and his fingers tore at his arms as the lyrium in his skin seared him from the inside.

Marian was a thing possessed as she screamed his name and her magic moved her instantaneously to his side. She dug deep within, her magic still faint from the templar attacks. She drew out flame from her hands and engulfed one of the mages who was pouring pain into Fenris. She dug deeper and swept her arm to the other blood mage, but he called a shield of energy around himself and her flames burned out harmlessly against it. The rune underneath them continued to expand. Marian was trying to drag the agony stricken Fenris away from it when she heard a command shouted from one of the templars.

"You have them both, you fool, just take them now!"

Hawke suddenly realized what was happening.

xxxx

Fenris felt Marian roughly grab the back of his neck and she forced him to look at her. He struggled to focus on her face even as his lyrium wanted to pull him into oblivion. He saw her lips move and it took everything in him to concentrate on her words.

"Fenris! I'm sorry, but I know you'll find me." And then her hands were on his chest and she shoved him away with both of her arms with all the force she had in her.

Time seemed to slow. He felt her hands leave his chest where she pushed him and he lost his footing. As he fell backwards over the side rail of the ship he saw Marian standing where he had been in the middle of the rune with the blood mage. As he descended into the safety of the water below, he saw the lines of the rune flare in completion and then with another flash of light, she was gone.


	24. Chapter 24

_Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favorited and reviewed or any combination thereof._

_"intrigue"- the secret planning of something illicit or detrimental to someone..._

_xxxx _

Chapter 24

Fenris hit the water. Steam rose up off the surface with a hiss from the contact of the cool sea with the burning lyrium in his skin. The weight of his body sank down with the momentum of his fall. If given the choice, he would have let himself drown rather than face a single moment of his life with Marian absent from it. That would be no freedom he would wish for. But she wasn't gone. Not completely. Not without hope. She had ordered him to find her. And he would obey his mistress.

He turned himself upright and pushed his legs down propelling his body up towards air. He was an automaton as he broke the surface and swam to the nearest of the pylons lining the weathered docks. He had left his emotions and his logical thought under the water. He was moving on instinct. His heartbeat raced and his breath came too quickly and too shallow. The old familiar pain pulling at him was back and it had grown immense. How could he have forgotten what it used to feel like? What it felt like _before_...

_Enough._ He buried the pain deep; willing it to disappear in the black corner of his mind that hid the memories of anything before its existence. The only thing he would allow his consciousness to acknowledge was the single goal of finding Marian. Nothing else mattered. He pulled himself onto the wooden boards and dripped a path back to the deck of the _Dauntless._

He absently stepped over dead bodies and the smoking remains of demons. Varric, Isabela, and her crew apparently finished off the remaining intruders to their ship. They were more skilled than he would have originally given them all credit for. These people had earned Marian's trust and respect however, so he should not have questioned their abilities. He saw Varric and Isabela hovering over two men kneeling on the deck, hands clasped behind their necks. Fenris walked over to them, soaked to the bone, hair matted to his face, eyes filled with single-minded determination.

Varric had Bianca aimed at the men. Marian's friends looked grim. They didn't know what she had said to him before she disappeared. They didn't know that he had hope.

Isabela tried to speak to him as he approached. "Fenris, we left these two alive..."

But he ignored her and walked up to the first prisoner on his knees. He grabbed a fistful of the man's hair and slammed his face down onto the deck. Fenris lifted him back up again and pressed his mouth against the captive's ear to speak. "Where is she?" He roared the demand so viciously it almost didn't sound like words. The man was too shocked to answer even if he had wanted to. Fenris forced his head back down again and the sound of bones cracking cut the air. "Where is she?" He asked again. The man's face was bubbling and bloody and he gurgled something unintelligible. Fenris didn't even bother to try to understand. He struck the man's face against the deck over and over again, without letting him answer.

"Fenris! Fenris, that's going to kill him!" He heard Varric shout at him over the fleshy thud of the man's head hitting the planks.

"No. But this will..." Fenris pulled the man back up to his knees, fingers still tight around his hair. He drew back his other hand and he let himself submit to the control of the lyrium. He shoved his fist into the man's chest and squirmed his hand around for a moment before he locked onto his target. He pulled the vital muscle out into the open world it should never have seen. Fenris dropped the man's heart on the deck, his fingers slick with blood. He was vaguely aware of wide eyed stares from those watching as the heart beat several times in front of them before the lifeless body of its owner fell on top of it.

"_Holy fucking shit_..." The pirate had a mouth true to her heritage.

Fenris, with dead eyes and a bloody fist, took one step towards the other man on his knees.

"NO! WAIT! PLEASE! _PLEASE_!" The terror-stricken human stumbled backwards and ran into Isabela's legs. He turned and clung to her boots trying to hide behind her. Isabela backed away and the man fell onto his hands. Varric also took several wary steps back from Fenris, but he lowered Bianca and held out one of his hands in a half-hearted attempt to halt Fenris's warpath.

"Elf, just _wait_. He'll tell us where she is. Just let him talk..." The dwarf's voice was even and controlled. _Marian trusts them_, he had to repeat it to himself several times before he was able to calm his lyrium. As the light of the lines on his skin dimmed, he noticed the others releasing the breaths they had all been holding.

Fenris balled his hands into fists at his sides and spoke through clenched teeth and snarling lips. "Where Is She?"

The man couldn't speak fast enough. On his hands and his knees before Fenris he sputtered, "Abandoned slaver caves! Two days by ship, north, along the coast! Those were our orders, we were supposed to bring both of you. She'll be there I swear. I swear! Please don't kill me..."

Fenris took half a step forward. "He's lying. The settlements on the northern coast are all controlled by the Qunari."

"No! No! The entrance is in a hidden cove. The Qunari don't know about it. It's only visible sailing up from the south, you'll see it if you hug the shoreline. Those Tevinters who hired us, they're keeping their lyrium stockpiles there. A fortune in lyrium! I swear I'm telling the truth! Please, I don't want to die!"

Isabela drew a dagger and leaned into the man from behind. "It's too late for that, love..." She slit the man's throat in one clean and elegant sweep of her arm.

"Rivaini!" Varric looked up to the fading night sky, shaking his head. "Was that necessary?"

"Hey, it was a lot kinder than what _he_ would have done to him." She gestured at Fenris with her blood streaked blade.

A low growl vibrated in Fenris's throat. He had always been a patient man. A virtue that had helped him survive. But now, with Marian gone from his side, her fate unknown, that virtue no longer existed for him. "Two days..."

Isabela sheathed her dagger. "Don't you worry, I'll get us there in one."

xxxx

"_Venhedis_!" Hawke held a hand against her throbbing forehead. She was cursing in Tevene now. Either she'd been in Tevinter far too long or, Fenris was rubbing off on her.

When she had rematerialized, they were just inside the entrance to a cave but it wasn't just a wild hollow of rock. At a quick glance, the place certainly looked as if some kind of enterprise was taking place there. She only got a quick glance, because she immediately attacked the blood mage that had transported them there. He wore her dagger in his chest before he could even recover from such an exacting spell. Unfortunately they were not alone and she was hit by another templar assault. More of them surrounded her than she could take down on her own with only the dregs of her battered magic left to her. She would have happily tried though, had she not been immediately struck on the head and knocked unconscious with what she thought must have been the pommel of a sword.

She reached up now to feel the spot where the blow had landed. It was sticky with blood and matted hair. She attempted to heal it but even reaching deep inside her she couldn't muster enough magic to do the job. She had sustained so many attacks it would take some time to recover.

_"Fucking templars"_, she winced and mumbled to herself. They had been bad enough when the lot of them were gainfully employed, but now, these templar-vagrants high on contraband lyrium were far more dangerous and far more potent. She rolled herself to sit upright and looked around. She was alone in a small room. The rock walls and dirt floors were braced here and there with wooden beams and the only light was from small candles set atop a few sparse pieces of furniture. There was a door and though she knew it was wasted effort, she checked to make sure it was locked. She listened at it and tried to peek through the tiny gaps in the slats of wood. Torch light flickered in the corridor outside and she could hear the echo of water dripping from somewhere. She looked around the room. Alone. No weapons. No magic.

"This is going to be slightly more of a challenge than I expected..." She spoke out loud to herself. Slightly more of a challenge but this was how it had to be. She would have sooner carved her own heart out of her chest than see Fenris suffer anymore of whatever the blood mage's magic was doing to him, and it had been the right thing to push him out of harm's way. Better one of them was free to mount a rescue, and better that it was him. Her magic would recover. His was trapped in the Fade. She could deal with templar attacks, but these _fucking_ maleficarum had some kind of spell that could cripple him through his lyrium. As she paced the room and thought up a few more curses she could apply to her situation, she ruefully recalled how Fenris had told her in a roundabout fashion that she swore like a sailor.

It was still meltingly hot and from the water she could hear and the look of the cave she must still be in Seheron and near the coast to boot. She wasn't sure how long she had been unconscious, but she hoped it was long enough for Fenris to torture any possible surviving enemies for information, _what else would he do after all_, and for Isabela to get them moving on the water again to find her.

She turned and her heartbeat quickened when she heard the echo of hurried and heavy footsteps approaching. She quickly considered taking a position behind the door to give her a tactical advantage but, as Varric continually reminded her, that just wasn't her style. She stood boldly in the middle of the room, facing the door.

The lock was hastily turned and the door flung wide open. There were two men. Both were tall and broad, one young and one of middle years. The young one was armed with a sword and a scowl. The older one...Hawke had seen him before...

The familiar man took only two steps to reach her and without a word he grabbed her up by the thin material of her tunic and pushed her back until her legs ran into a table along the wall. Hawke tried to pull at his hands where he gripped at her chest trying to remember where she could have seen him before. He was vibrating with rage and what would have been vaguely aristocratic features were twisted into a snarling visage.

"You _bitch!" _Saliva sprayed Hawke in the face as the man spoke."You disgusting dog-lord bitch!"

_Kirkwall_. She had seen this man in Kirkwall before. "_You're Cassian_?" Hawke struggled against him with renewed motivation. The merchant just moved himself up on the list to die.

"I didn't avoid your _stench_ all those years in Kirkwall only to have you interfere in my affairs here, now." He pulled her closer to his face. "You're working with him aren't you? The scheming bastard leaves, instead of the slave I end up with only you, and now the Qunari are battering down my door! How long were you filthy _mages_ planning this?"

_What_? Hawke frantically tried to weave the strands of information together in her head even as she tried to twist out of the crazed man's grasp. Scheming bastard? Filthy mage? Danarius? Did he think she was working with Danarius? _Oh, but this is just too much, _she thought to herself, _but wait, what was that about Qunari_?

Cassian pulled one set of fingers off of her tunic and backhanded her across the mouth. Hawke's head turned sideways. When she turned back to him she offered him a blood streaked smile. He was doing a wonderful job unraveling at the seams of his sanity. There was no need for her to interject yet.

"Do you think I'm _stupid_? It was far too convenient that you ended up in Minrathous. He had you kill Hadriana too didn't he? He never trusted her either, but she was worthless anyway. Did you think informing the Quanri of this place would do the job of eliminating me with no repercussions? Well that was a poor gambit, Serah Hawke. Danarius can cower in Kirkwall for as long as he likes. He won't get far without my help. I'll be on my way back to Minrathous before the horned animals make it down here. You, however, will be staying to greet your friends."

He didn't let go of Hawke, but he turned to address the man with the sword. "Get the others and bring the mages enough lyrium to cast the rune to get us out of here. I'll meet you at the cove entrance." He nodded his head at the man who scurried off to follow the orders. Cassian turned back to Hawke.

She didn't like the look in his eyes. She thought of Orana. He whispered to her, "I'll just need to thank you for all this before I go..."

xxxx

Fenris thought he actually saw Isabela's hand tremble as she held the spyglass up to her eye. Her voice was low and serious and he had come to recognize that wasn't a good thing. "There are two of them." She said. "Definitely moving this way, and faster than I'd like."

"I thought the Qunari weren't supposed to know about this place?" Varric shook his head in disbelief. "Now, somehow, _right now_, there are two dreadnoughts bearing down on it? Did they know we were coming?"

Fenris took the spyglass from Isabela to look for himself. He suspected someone had tipped off the Qunari in the hopes of secretly manipulating them into eliminating all the players on the field in one fell swoop. There was no way to know yet who had set the plan in motion, but he had his suspicions. "I doubt that 'we' are the only reason the Qunari are here. They are a broadsword, not a scalpel. They are not contract killers. Whoever alerted them to this place was seeking to eradicate everyone involved in this, all at once."

Varric looked at him, seeming exhausted. "I'm no stranger to intrigue, Elf, but you Tevinters take it to a whole new level."

Isabela exercised her right as captain and proceeded to bark orders at them. "Alright, men. I have to stay here and make sure we're ready to leave, _fast_. You two need to get in there, find Hawke and bring her back as quickly as possible."

Another order Fenris was all too happy to follow.

xxxx

Cassian shoved Hawke onto her back on the table and his hands started to claw at her clothes. Their limbs tangled together as she struggled against him and he grappled for dominance. He struck her again across the mouth and she spit a mouthful of blood back at him. It didn't get her the reaction she hoped when instead she felt his hardness press against her thigh as they fought against each other.

"By all means keep it up, you Fereldon whore. I like a fighter." And he laughed as he leaned his head down to hers.

She wasn't about to find out what he would do as he leaned in because she head butted him. He jerked back in pain, blood in his nose and tears watering up in his eyes. She seized the opportunity and launched herself at him. They tumbled to the floor and it turned into a brawl. The man was twice her size but she was no stranger to a street fight. This fool was just some bully of a noble who thought he could force another girl. _He picked the wrong girl, _and with that thought she managed to land her knee on his groin.

He cried out in pain and anger. Hawke scrambled to put distance between them, but even as one of his hands grabbed his damaged goods, his other hand locked onto Hawke's wrist and dragged her back down.

Hawke pulled and pulled at her magic as they continued to go at each other, but it was still silent as a grave. He managed to roll onto her and he pinned her to the ground. He landed a heavy fist square on her jaw and her vision wavered with the blow. He brought his fist down again and she cursed her muscles as they started going weak and she saw black closing in around her. She used her willpower alone to fight back unconsciousness while his laughter filled her ears and she felt his hands grabbing again at her clothes.

And then she felt him.

She actually _felt_ him approach. The sixth sense inside her _felt_ his steel and leather and lyrium and her magic was alive again. But she wouldn't even need to use it. The door to the small room broke open and the next thing Hawke saw was an elf-shaped glow and a fist sticking through Cassian's chest.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Hawke and her magic were content to let the next series of events just happen. Fenris pulled his fist out of Cassian's chest and both of them were sprayed with fresh blood from the gaping hole. He tossed the body aside as if it was an empty sack and it landed in a heaped mess on the ground beside them. Hawke felt herself be lifted up and into the air. She felt Fenris's arms wrap protectively around her, his fingers squeezing more tightly than necessary. He hoisted her up against him so that her head was above his and he buried his blood spattered face in her neck. His breath was harsh and uneven against her skin and she was reminded of the first time they made love when he seemed to want every part of him to be in physical contact with her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let her fingers feel the lines of lyrium there. They felt burning hot at first but they seemed to cool under her touch and thin ever so slightly. If her magic could have spoken words it would have thanked her as his very presence seemed to breathe life back into her injured powers.

Fenris lowered her to her feet, but wouldn't release his hold around her. She slid down his body until she touched the ground again. He looked down at her face and into her eyes and he seemed to be searching her for the right words to say.

"Marian..." Her name came off his lips in a parched and hungry croak.

Hawke was still dizzy from almost being knocked unconscious but she didn't feel nearly as pained as he looked. She smiled at him in reassurance and decided she would help him sum things up. They didn't quite have time at the moment to indulge in the myriad of feelings he was probably both unfamiliar with and didn't understand.

"Fenris. You found me, just like I said you would. _I_ am fine. _You,_ in no particular order, are angry, scared, concerned, relieved, a little crazed and possibly a bit aroused."

"You're _hurt_..." It seemed he decided to go with a combination of angry and concerned first.

"I'm better now, I swear." She pushed away and looked him up and down. "You're covered in blood..."

"None of it's his Hawke, believe me." Varric stepped into the room answering her unvoiced question. "You know, Elf, fighting next to you is a little too much like fighting next to Hawke, which is to say that 'next to you' actually means running behind you trying not to get hit with flying body parts." He nodded to Hawke. "You okay?"

Varric and Hawke had been through enough together that those two words of concern were all that was needed between them and meant more than any long speech ever could. "I'm fine, Varric, thanks, but we really have to go and go now. Danarius isn't here. I'll explain later. I heard there are Qunari trying to get into this place."

"They are already inside. We ran into several on our way through the passages." Fenris found his voice and looked just slightly more comfortable in his skin again.

"He means he killed several on our way through the passages. And, there are two dreadnoughts full of them bearing down on Rivaini as we speak, so let's go before she gets twitchy and starts to think leaving without us is a good idea." Varric looked both ways down the corridor before he chose a direction, expecting them to follow.

Fenris held his hand out to her even as he pulled his sword off of his back and made it ready with his other hand.

Hawke bent down to the mutilated body of Danarius's associate. She pulled his signet ring off one swollen finger and pocketed it. Turning back to Fenris, she took his outstretched hand. He looked at her questioningly.

"It's a gift for Orana."

xxxx

Fenris held onto Marian's hand so tightly he thought he might be cutting off the blood circulating through it. He didn't care. She'd have to live with it. He wasn't letting go for anything this time. They followed Varric back through the stone passages passing the dead bodies he had made on their way in. He barely remembered killing so many. As soon as they entered this place he could _feel_ Marian again and all he had to do was follow the feeling. That these people had gotten in his way and met a gruesome end by his hand was inconsequential to him.

Varric paused to look around a corner and they halted. Marian gestured to a severed head lying near its body. "This man was with Cassian, he was ordered to gather some mages so they could escape. They were going to use that translocation spell again, but they needed lyrium."

Varric waved them on and they continued winding through. Up ahead, Fenris could hear shouting and his markings burned a little deeper at the feeling of magic being cast.

"Dwarf." He got Varric's attention and nodded his head backwards instructing him to get behind them. Varric understood and moved position. Fenris pulled Marian back and stepped ahead of her, but he didn't let go of her hand. He led with his greatsword as he rounded the bend.

They walked in on a fight taking place in a large intersection. A Saarebas and his Arvaarad were engaged with three Tevinter mages, one in magister robes, the other two likely apprentices. A small group of elves were hugging the walls in the opposite corridor.

Fenris looked down at Marian, unsure of how to proceed. She shrugged her shoulders and spoke, also somewhat uncertain. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend...?"

Varric answered. "Ummm...which one is which in this situation?"

Fenris saw no need to make this complicated. "I see only enemies. Whoever isn't killed by the other will be killed by me."

As if on cue, the magister managed to gain the upper hand and the charred bodies of the Qunari fell to the ground. Fenris was about to make good on his word to kill the victors when the sound of an explosion reverberated in the cavern. Everyone flinched and ducked waiting for falling rock but they appeared to be far enough away from the blast.

The magister shouted out in frustration. "Those _barbarians_ are blowing up the lyrium stores!"

"Why would they do that?" Varric said, "They're going to collapse the caves!" He looked around nervously apparently realizing if the explosions caused a cave-in there would be no exit. Fenris noted that, for a dwarf, he seemed to have no love for the stone.

Marian supplied his answer. "Varric, do you think the _Qunari_ want the _magisters_ to have _lyrium_? And if they're buried alive, 'all the better' they're thinking, I'm sure."

The magister then noticed the three of them standing there and she addressed them, desperation obvious in her voice. "You! You're the Hawke woman! Did you plan this? We don't have the lyrium we need for the translocation spell that brought you here; we couldn't get to it before the ox-men overran the place. Do you have another way out? Surely we can come to an agreement under the circumstances?"

Fenris lifted up his sword as he snarled. "Here's your way out..." and he started advancing on them, pulling Marian behind him.

"Fenris, wait. They're rather quick to change their loyalties aren't they?" He stopped. Marian questioned the magister. "These people," she gestured to the elves, "are these your slaves?"

The magister replied eagerly. "Yes, take them, leave them, they're yours if you want them, just help us get out of here!"

Marian walked over to the woman, now pulling Fenris behind her. She appeared to consider the offer. Fenris knew better, and she proved him right when she spoke. "Bring the slaves," she declared, and her mouth twisted into a satisfied grin, "leave the magisters."

"What?! How dare you..." The magister never finished her sentence. Without pause, Fenris shoved his sword through the woman's chest.

He pulled it free and Marian spoke to the apprentices who looked on wide eyed. "Anyone else care to object?" The two took off running down one of the passages.

Varric rubbed his forehead. "I'm not certain you two are entirely _healthy_ for one another."

Fenris couldn't imagine what he meant. He felt perfectly healthy at the moment. Marian brought them back to the task at hand. She extended her hand towards the slaves left behind by the mages and bowed a little to Fenris deferring to him. At least she had come to accept he was more effective at these interactions than she was. He shouted a command over to them as he led Marian down one of the connecting passages. "You will come with us if you want to live." The slaves abruptly fell into step behind them.

They hadn't gone a dozen steps before another explosion shook the walls. This time closer and louder and the party stopped. The aftershocks continued to rumble and shift the rocks around them and things started to fall. Everyone was ducking and side stepping small rocks as they tumbled down but just as the stone settled, a second blast sounded. The ceiling above shattered like glass. Without thinking, Fenris dropped his sword, grabbed Marian up and dove into a side passage away from the falling stone. At the same time, he felt her push out with the force of her magic towards Varric and the slaves, sending them backwards out of the way.

Fenris landed on his back with Marian on top of him. The shaking stopped and the loose rocks settled. When the dust dissipated he saw that he and Marian were on the wrong side of the cave-in. Marian pushed off of his chest, coughing and sputtering. She stepped over to the wall of fallen rocks and felt up and down and looked in and around the boulders blocking them off from the passage that led out to the cove and back to their ship.

"Varric!" She shouted at the rocks. "Varric, are you alright? Is everyone safe?"

Fenris got up and moved to stand next to her. He grabbed hold of her hand again and she squeezed him tightly, her sweaty palm betraying her concern.

Muffled words came from the other side. "Hawke! Can you hear me? We're all fine." Marian's hand relaxed a little inside his.

"Varric, Fenris and I can't get back to you. Get those people back to the ship; we'll have to find another way out."

"You'd better, Hawke!" He shouted to them, and then he and Marian were alone.

Her dark eyes looked up at him and she was the picture of calm. He wondered at their situation. They were now lost in a cave under siege by Qunari. It was just like Danarius to set up his illicit operations in such a dangerous location, his vainglory surpassing any sense. Or perhaps he thought being right under a sleeping dragon's nose would offer him some kind of perverse protection. Either way it was now Fenris who was suffering the consequences of his former master's actions, like always. Even if he and Marian made it out to daylight there was no guarantee they would make it back to the ship. Yet somehow, he saw in her eyes that she thought everything would be just fine, and he found himself trusting in her. She pulled him forward, their hands still joined, and he knew right then that he would allow himself to be led into the void if it was by her hand.

xxxx

Hawke and Fenris ran round blindly through passages and had to backtrack several times when they came onto dead ends. Twice more there was the rumble of a distant explosion and Fenris would stop them to pull her close until he felt the danger had passed.

Soon they heard movement and Qunari voices ahead and they slowed their pace. Fenris stopped and he tilted his head, listening. Hawke held her breath and waited.

Fenris whispered to her, relaying what he was hearing. "They've destroyed all of the lyrium stockpiles and have captured several of Cassian's men. They're going to search the rest of the passages. We're close to the inland exit. They're leaving two men behind to guard the way out."

"Only two?" Hawke's luck must be improving. Then she realized Fenris had actually understood the Qunari. "Wait, you can understand them? How many languages do you speak anyway?"

"Five." He said it as if every former slave was multilingual.

"_Five_? You couldn't _read_, but you speak _five_ languages?"

He gave her hand what felt like a frustrated squeeze and he whispered to her with annoyance clear in his voice, "Are you really asking me these questions _right now_?"

"Right, sorry. We can take two of them. Let's go." And she tried to pull him forward.

He pulled her back. "Two of them to get out of the caves. At which point, we find ourselves deep in Qunari territory, with only your magic and my lyrium and no way back to the ship. And do I have to remind you that you killed their Arishok? Do you think they'll just let us wander on back to Minrathous?"

He was looking at her like she was insane and like he was surprised at his own insanity for following her. Which she knew he would, and he knew it too. She smiled at him. She couldn't help it. She'd never had so much fun in her life. "Well, why not?"

xxxx

Marian dragged him along, one of her hands was joined with his, and the other wielded her magic. She brushed her fingertips along the stone of the wall as they ran forward and he felt a rumble start to form and then grow. He wasn't sure if it was the stone around him or his heart inside him that was vibrating with her touch. They came to the end of the passage and into the open air of the cavern's other entrance. The two Qunari poised with spears at the cave opening were turned away from them towards the daylight outside. Marian stopped and he stopped behind her.

Of course she wouldn't bother with trying to attack them using the element of surprise. She stomped one foot and the rumbling he felt reached a quick crescendo as rocks actually broke loose and lifted up from the ground on either side of them and just hung there. The Qunari turned and readied their spears. Marian lifted her free hand and made a simple sweeping motion as if to brush off a bit of dust and the rocks launched forward knocking down both warriors. With another little twist of her fingers, great claws of stone rose up underneath the now supine figures and closed around their struggling bodies, pulling them under the ground.

Marian giggled. She actually giggled and bolted towards the light outside pulling Fenris with her. He squinted, waiting for his eyes to accommodate the brightness. Marian shielded her eyes too with the hand still holding onto his. He felt the sweat on her heated brow. He looked around to get his bearings. They were on higher elevation, and the cave emptied out onto winding rocky paths carved into the cliffs lining the coast. He could see the water from where they stood, and not so far off, more importantly, he could just see the tops of Isabela's black sails in the distance.

Marian took in the surroundings as well. "This reminds me of the wounded coast near Kirkwall...only ten times fucking hotter! Maker, I've had enough of this heat!" She wiggled her hand out of his grasp. He was about to grab it back, when she pulled her tunic over her head and threw it angrily down on the ground. "Uhhhh. A little better I suppose." Then she grabbed his hand back herself.

She stood there wearing only her tight leather trousers and her breastband, staring at him and holding his hand.

It took a mighty effort to keep his face still and his mouth silent. Unbelievably, his first instinct had been to laugh, but he _would not_ give her that satisfaction.

"Do you do this on purpose? So that the dwarf will have interesting stories to tell?" He opted for irritated sarcasm. "I would prefer not to be part of a story where we fight through hostile territory naked."

"How about a story where we run for our lives naked?" Marian's head turned to the cave and then back again to look down the cliffside paths. From both directions came the sounds of swords and inevitability.

xxxx

In the time it took for Hawke to blink, Fenris transformed from her lover back into a weapon. The Qunari emerging from the caves were on them almost immediately. Fenris released her hand for a fraction of a second. His whole body flared brightly and then he seemed to...vanish. She was transfixed. She still felt his presence, but all she saw was a ghost of an image were he should have been. She felt the ghost rush forward to meet the first warrior coming out into the daylight. She saw a spatter of blood and then the Qunari was on the ground. Before she could even move, Fenris was next to her again and her hand was back in his. In his other hand he held the sword of the felled warrior. She was pulled forward a little as he cut down the two Qunari that followed with a one handed sweep of the stolen blade. Before the next group was on them, he pivoted and she almost felt her feet leave the ground as he turned and ran with her down one of the paths leading away from the caves.

They flew headlong away from their pursuers. Hawke used whatever magic came to her fingertips without even thinking first. She covered them with protective enchantments, threw out force magic against any who got close enough to them and each time Fenris had to strike out at an enemy, she tried to pass a little of her magic into him through their joined hands.

They descended down the cliff paths and then up again, trying to keep to a general southerly direction along the coast; not that they thought they could run the whole way back to Imperium controlled territory. Neither of them had any idea where they were trying to run to, but they both knew it was better to run for it and live to fight another day together than surrender to the Qun. The attacks kept coming in fits and starts. There seemed an endless regenerating number of warriors to fight, all with spears and swords and angry foreign shouts and here and there bits of magic from the pathetic creatures that were the Saarebas. If she could have, Hawke would have stopped each time they encountered one of the Qunari mages just to put them out of their misery, but the Maker had other plans for her this day.

Fenris skidded to a halt and climbed up onto an outcropping of rock that connected to a different path above them. He reached down to help Hawke up, and then reclaimed her hand. _This is almost getting funny_, she thought, _like a children's game or a drunken dare, 'how long can we keep holding hands?'_

"Look." Fenris pointed, drawing her attention to the sea. "The dreadnoughts are fast approaching. Isabela is on the move."

Hawke saw the _Dauntless_ moving south, skirting along the rocky shoreline. "She wouldn't leave us." Fenris gave her a subtle but dubious sideways glance. "She wouldn't, Fenris. Even if you don't trust her, trust me. She's trying to find a position further down the shore where we might be able to get back to her. I need to let her know we see her. Then maybe we can try to at least make our way down off these cliffs to a beach or something and they can send one of the ship's boats to pick us up."

"How are you going to..." Fenris started, but she was already doing it. Hawke called fire to her free hand and as it sat on her palm it turned and twisted and formed itself into the shape of a hawk. Fenris watched her as she threw up her hand and the bird flew off, red wings of flame flapping against a blue sky. Hawke's hawk circled the ship twice before diving down into the sea extinguishing itself and leaving behind a great billow of steam where it contacted the water.

Fenris just stared at her and she shrugged. Then without warning, he pulled her close grabbing the back of her neck with his other hand and he kissed her. It was hard and dire and delighted and she felt him smiling against her lips as he did it and just as abruptly as he started it, he ended it and dragged her back into a run.

xxxx

The further they went, the more resistance they encountered and Isabela threatened to pass them. The paths were narrowing and the cliffs were climbing and he couldn't let the ship get too far ahead.

Fenris led his half-naked Hawke down a thin ledge of rock evading another group of Qunari, and then climbing back up to the previous path thinking it would be clear. He froze and Marian ran into his back. They had come to a large encampment at the edge of the cliffs. He saw more than a dozen scattered soldiers and beyond them there was nothing but air. Almost immediately someone shouted the presence of interlopers and they were back to fighting.

The two of them moved in a graceful give-and-take, neither willing to disrupt the physical joining of their hands. Fenris sliced through a Sten that lunged at them from the side as Marian countered the attacks of a Saarebas. He couldn't see any way out of killing the entire unit that was set up here. They were surrounded, they couldn't backtrack down the path they came from and the only path ahead was straight down into the sea. All the while he stole glances at the black sails in the distance rapidly approaching their location.

A spear flew at Marian, and Fenris whipped her around out of the way. Fire shot out from her hand in a wide arc, but it was met by ice from one of the Qunari mages. Fenris saw Marian's face and her lips were curled up into sneer. He now knew the look well and it meant she would not be outdone. He felt her magic surge and fire rose up around them in a great wave. He felt the heat as her eyes targeted the Saarebas standing across the camp away from the edge of the cliff. The Qunari mage crouched, trying to draw out more magic. Fenris suddenly focused in on the scene before him, but he noticed it too late.

Far too late, he saw the black barrels sitting innocently enough behind Marian's target. He was too late to stop Marian's attack and everyone there was too late to find cover. Marian's fire enveloped the enemy mage and with him the blackpowder barrels. Fenris spun Marian into his arms, mageflame still licking at her hand. For the briefest moment the world around them was deafeningly silent and Fenris ran faster than he ever thought he was capable of. He clutched Marian as tightly as he could and the silence broke with an almighty boom that assaulted his ears. Just as the shockwave pushed against his back he reached the edge of the cliff and jumped.

They fell through the air down from an impossible height. Falling alongside them were burning bits of the Qun.

This time, when Fenris hit the water, it was with Marian in his arms. The shock of the sea made his muscles clench and his nose sting. He heard the muffled roar of the waves in his ears and the currents pushed up like a wedge between them. Their bodies were forced apart, but he used every bit of the power in his lyrium to hold desperately onto her hand.

He opened his eyes and saw her float for a moment beside him. Suspended in the water, a faint aura of magic still surrounding her, she was delicate and powerful all at once. She was a nymph and she was a leviathan in one body and when she opened her eyes and looked back at him, bubbles escaping from her smile, he thought he couldn't possibly love her more.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

They shot up above the surface together, gasping simultaneously for air. Bits of burning debris were falling into the water from above. Fenris was still holding her hand so tightly, Hawke might have thought he was trying to break a bone. She looked all around and saw the _Dauntless_ just ahead. They could make the swim. She waded closer to Fenris and let him hold her as she sent off another flaming hawk towards the ship, alerting them to their presence in the water.

Fenris looked at her with a curious expression. He should be furious with her. She should be furious with herself. Starting with the explosion that landed them in the sea and going back several steps before that, possibly all the way back to the moment they met, this was entirely her fault. But she wasn't upset in the slightest with herself or with her magic. She was just content to be alive and to be next to him. Something about the inscrutable look he gave her made her think he was also surprised about feeling the same way.

"Can you swim the distance?" He asked her as he tread water, still holding onto her.

"Of course I can, but you'll have to let go of me." Hawke kissed him on the forehead, pushed away from him and dove under the waves. They swam all out, side by side. As they approached the ship she heard shouts hurrying them on. When they were close enough, they stopped and a few of the crew were ready to throw them lines.

Hawke and Fenris were hauled back aboard. They were a sorry sight, soaking the deck. Hawke started removing her boots, and Fenris started stripping off his as well along with his breastplate and tunic.

"You could have joined me in doing that earlier you know?" She winked at him.

He stood and shook out his hair, the lyrium spiraling his chest glistened in the sunlight. Just as she pried off her boots he looked at her sitting on the deck and said low, menacing and through clenched teeth, "Woman, don't you _dare_ take off anymore clothes."

"What makes you think Hawke has anything we all haven't seen already?" Isabela came up behind Fenris. "It's about time you two. I'll have you know, I almost left..." She walked right past them in a rush, shouting orders to her crew.

Fenris helped her up and they both followed Isabela to the helm. Varric was there. Hawke nodded to him. "Safe?" She asked him. She had to check on the slaves they rescued.

"Yes, Hawke, they're all safe below deck. Confused, but safe. When are you going to stop picking up strays?"

"I wouldn't have any friends otherwise Varric." She turned to Isabela. "What's the situation?"

"The situation, kitten, is that those two dreadnoughts are going to overtake us." Isabela manned the wheel of the ship and Hawke felt a welcome breeze as they cut through the water, picking up speed.

"What, that's it? Not 'maybe', not 'if', they just 'are'?" Worry started clawing inside Hawke's gut. "Surely you can outrun them, you've done it before."

"I've done no such thing, Hawke." Isabela wasn't looking at her. Her eyes were trained out to the sea, focused and unblinking. "What I have done before is lost Qunari pursuers in a storm and lost my own ship with it. So unless you have a hurricane stuffed in that breastband of yours, I suggest we start thinking about how we're going to escape once they capture us."

Hawke swore under her breath and started pacing. _No no no no no. _Capture was not an option she would consider. There were too many people on this ship. Too many lives to protect. There was no way they could fight off a boarding party being so outnumbered. There would be casualties and she refused to allow any more innocent blood to be spilt. And submitting to the Qun just _wasn't_ an option...in any situation...ever. She swore and paced some more.

Fenris caught her arm as she passed him, stopping her. He leaned in close and Hawke could feel the lyrium on his bare skin singing to her. She almost though he was smiling. He whispered in her ear. "I love you for it, Marian, but you forget what you _are_..." He picked up her hand and ran her fingers across the markings on his arm. They flared and shimmered, seeming just as bright as the hot northern sun.

She was a mage. She was a _very powerful mage_.

Hawke grinned from ear to ear, grabbed Fenris's face and kissed him, and then she turned and ran to the stern.

Her friends shouted after her for an explanation, but Fenris answered for her. "Reef the sails, Isabela. She's going to bring you a storm."

xxxx

Fenris followed after Marian and joined her at the stern as she stared down the Qunari ships gaining on them. She stood straight and tall. Well, perhaps not so tall, but no less imposing.

"Have you done anything like this before?" Not that he didn't trust her, but he at least wanted to know just what kind of magic he had volunteered her for.

"There was a time...once, when I was young." She spoke out to the sea, softly, lost in a memory. "We were running from templars and they followed us into the Wilds. Father thought we could lose them in a storm. We didn't have any lyrium. He needed me and Bethany to help, but it worked. Carver didn't speak to us for a fortnight, and even after that, thunderstorms always made him twitchy. He hated our magic..." Fenris could sense her doubt and her hesitation.

He stepped up behind her and gave her the only reassurance he could. "Marian, I love you, and I love your magic. Now _do this_." It was an order. He refused to leave her any choice. Against his better judgement, against all his prejudice and against all the lessons of his past, he loved this woman, trusted her and accepted her magic, and he would make sure she accepted it too.

She looked back at him, surprise plain on her face; surprise and gratitude and without a word she turned back around to face the Qunari and did as she was bid.

xxxx

Hawke closed her eyes and opened her magic. She let it fill up all the spaces inside her. She felt it in her fingertips, in the strands of her hair, in her heart and in her bones. She saw in her mind what she was causing to happen around them. Clouds formed in the sky, bulging heavy and thick. They rolled across the expanse of blue, hiding the sunlight behind them. She lifted up one of her hands and felt the wind blow through her fingers as it swelled and quickly grew. Her skin felt chilled with the blessed absence of the sun and the cold air starting to whip about and it felt as if she was back in her far distant, long forgotten childhood home. She evened out her breaths and her chest rose and fell deeply. The fat clouds overhead burst and the rain started to fall.

Her magic pulsed and throbbed and she felt it spill out in great waves matching the sea that had grown rough and was now breaking against the hull, higher and higher. The tiny hairs on her skin raised up and she felt the static of electricity forming. Blue streaks of lightning snapped between the clouds and the ship tossed and pitched and she had to widen her stance and sway with the motion to stay standing. She tightened her muscles and focused her mind and _concentrated_. The storm was sudden and harsh and it raged, but she needed...more. She pulled deeper, opened wider. Darker sky, faster wind, sharper rain but there was a wall...a Veil...that she just couldn't push past. Couldn't or wouldn't...she didn't know.

Hawke clenched her jaw and shook her head, a pleading cry escaping her teeth. She could feel her magic falter as doubt creeped in on her, threatening to overtake her. Through the cacophony of the storm she heard a whisper. It was an evil little thing, whispering, begging, pleading and wanting to help her, but she knew better. Fear clamped down on her and she clamped down on her magic. She opened her eyes, searching, desperate, not wanting to lose the battle, but not wanting to lose herself. "I can't", she shouted into the wind.

"You can! Now do it!" Fenris shouted above the downpour and roughly grabbed her arm. He stood in front of her now, a blur of glowing lyrium and green eyes. He placed her hand on his chest and held it there. "Use me, Marian. You know how."

"What? You're mad! I can't. I _won't_!" She tried to pull away. How could he ask her this? She could never use him like that, like others had.

He held down her hand against him and pulled her closer. "You _must_. And it's _alright." _His other hand came up to her wet cheek; wet with rain and tears both. She looked in his eyes...and she trusted...and she let go.

Her eyes lifted up to the sky and she let his lyrium rush forward to meet her magic. Her whole being burned hot with it and she melted into him even as the cold rain drove down harder. Lightening hit the water and violently cracked around them. She could feel bits of it linger and it clung to their bodies, its blue light mingling with the light of Fenris's lyrium.

She couldn't feel the ship under her feet anymore; she couldn't feel anything but the electricity of her magic. This time when she heard the whisper in her ear it was Fenris's deep timbre, not a demon. "Finish it..."

xxxx

_Had he spoken?_ He wasnt sure. All he was sure of was that if he died now, with this feeling of her magic coursing through him, he would die in bliss. It kept surging forward, and he was vaguely aware of the storm also continuing to surge. He saw streaks of lightning surround them and when he focused his eyes on Marian he would swear he saw the veins in her skin glowing white from inside her, lines matching his own.

Just as he thought this must be the limit, he felt something inside him break open, and he felt again what he had only felt once before, in the Fade with Marian. The Veil tore asunder and Fenris felt his magic pour forth and join hers.

xxxx

Hawke tore the Veil. It was deliberate and purposeful, and she was in _control_. She felt Fenris's magic meet hers and before their powers even joined she knew it was more than enough. She lifted her free hand to the heavens and the sky became a ceiling of lightning. She gathered it and let it strengthen and when she let it go, she knew they had won.

She looked out at the chaos of the storm they had made together. The two dreadnoughts were nearly on top of them. Hawke saw a giant bolt of their lightning, as if striking out of the Fade, split clean through one of the enemy vessels. It broke apart into harmless little pieces that were swallowed into the sea. And it was only right and complete when a massive wave rose up behind the other ship and drove it down into the depths as well.

When that last wave crashed, the water suddenly calmed. The torrent trickled to a stop. The wind silenced to stillness, and the clouds broke apart.

Hawke used the last of her effort and closed the Veil. Magic spent for the both of them, her legs buckled underneath her, and Fenris caught her as she fell.


	27. Chapter 27

_As always, thanks for reading!_

_xxxx_

Chapter 27

Her weight in his arms was welcome, helping to fill the emptiness left behind as the magic receded. Clouds shifted in the sky revealing the dark orange of a sunset on the horizon. Victory shouts echoed against the masts of the ship. Fenris felt separated from it all. He didn't want to rejoin the world yet. Marian tried to push away from him and stand herself up, and suddenly he was possessed of a _need_. She shifted and squirmed a little, gently trying to extricate herself as he knelt on the deck holding her but a wild and mindless desire caught him and he refused to let her go. He felt the fading remnants of electricity tickling at his skin and he desperately needed to feel it spark again. He needed to feel _full_ again. She tried to move around inside his embrace and her hands brushed against his lyrium. It was his undoing.

Fenris pinned Marian flat to the deck and kissed her. It was wet and ravenous and he was so _hungry_ and she tasted so..._right_. She smelled so..._good_. She felt so..._perfect_.

"Fenris..." She half-heartedly struggled and spoke into his mouth. He pressed himself down on top of her and she gasped when she felt his hardness against her. "Fenris, love, what are you doing...?" He stifled her again with his lips, but again she fought free. "_Maker_, Fenris! Not _here_!"

_Here?_ Where were they exactly? He couldn't recall. He looked up, eyes heavy and unfocused. He saw people standing around them, staring._ The crew_. They were still on the deck. "No...Not here." He repeated, his voice strained, and he jumped up pulling her with him. He heard Marian grunt when he threw her over his shoulder and nearly broke into a run to get below deck. They were both drenched, barefoot and half naked and he was obviously...affected. When had he become so brazen? So unashamed of his body and so proud to use it, that he would display himself like this and make so obvious his intentions?

He refused to meet the damned pirate's gaze as he hurried past. He heard Marian laugh softly, her breath hot against his back. Just as they descended below, he saw a flash of gold pass between Isabela and the dwarf who appeared next to her and he vowed to get back at them when he heard the pirate say,

"I _told_ you they did kinky things with magic."

xxxx

Fenris kicked in the door of their cabin. He had to stop several times along the way to taste Marian's lips before stumbling further down the corridor. When they finally made it, he was holding her in front of him, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck and she was licking and blowing on his ear. It sent shivers down his spine and he slammed the door shut behind them.

He staggered another few steps and when she bit down playfully on the sensitive tip he slammed her back against the wall. She let out a soft shocked cry and he just couldn't wait any longer. Buckles fell and ties tore and he fumbled just enough to gain access. He moved his hands to grab under her thighs and he lifted her on top of him. When he slid inside of her he could feel her magic again. He felt full, whole and for a moment he didn't move, just savoring the sweetness of being joined with her.

Marian's legs tightened around him. Her fingers dug into the muscles on his back making his lyrium hum and pulse. She nuzzled her lips against the angle of his jaw and she whined trying to get him to move his hips. He buried his nose into her hair, moving his mouth against it, still damp and tasting of salt and lightning.

"Fenris..." She whispered his name in his ear and the feel of her breath drew forth a growl from deep in his throat. His hands found the flesh of her behind and he drove her into the wall. She arched her back and gripped his shoulders, holding on. He was rough with her and his pace was punishing but she took it and grabbed a fist full of his hair and begged him for more.

He pulled himself away from her and they both clumsily peeled off the remainder of their clothes. When there was nothing left separating them but air, he tried to pick her up again, but her small and determined hands found his hips and she turned him so that now he was the one pushed against the wall. Her hands slid forward to encircle him and she disappeared from his line of sight. When she took him in her mouth he moaned louder than he intended, but then realized he didn't care who heard. He brought his fingers through her hair and he couldn't stop himself from pulling her head forward. It was her turn to moan and the sound vibrated around him. He was so close he could have spilled right then, but that's not what he wanted, what he _needed_.

She gasped for air when he grabbed her up and they fell down to the floor together. He sheathed himself inside her again. He needed to feel her come underneath him and all over him. Her fingers were tugging at his hair again as he bit down on her shoulder and then continued to bite all the way up her neck, allowing himself to surrender to the animal that he was. When he reached her pulse he sucked at it deeply and with a jolt she clenched around him as she came, bringing him with her.

xxxx

As the last of their convulsions died and their shudders quieted, Hawke rolled them both over so she straddled atop him. Fenris's chest heaved with exhaustion and his eyes still had that vaguely primitive, needy look.

"If that's what a little storm does to you, I'm going to need to make it rain every time, you know." She teased him as she traced the lines on his chest with her fingertips.

He stilled her hands and looked up at her. "Marian, I'm...I'm sorry. I...I don't know what happened. I lost control..." He stammered adorably, actually thinking he needed to apologize for _that_. His fingers gently brushed her shoulder, ghosting over a healthy looking bruise in the shape of a bite. "I can't believe...I shouldn't have..." She rolled her eyes. He was going to torment himself about this if she didn't stop it right then and there.

She leaned over and bit him on the shoulder.

"There." She said. "We're even." It was a very direct solution. He gave her half a grin, then looked up at the ceiling and sighed away his guilt. When he brought his eyes back down to her face he wore a serious expression.

"Marian, I want my magic back. I _need_ it back. It's so...rrgghh...I feel so...empty..." He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his forehead, as if trying to remember something.

Hawke laid herself down on his chest and spoke into his skin. "I should be the one apologizing, Fenris. I'm sorry. I'm not sure I should have opened the Fade to use your magic like that. To let you feel it here, on this side of the Veil, only to have to close you off from it again." She reached up to grab his face and captured his green eyes with hers. "I promise you..._I swear_ we'll find a way to restore everything that was taken from you. And we'll make them all pay dearly for it. Until then, I have enough magic for the both of us." She kissed him. Her magic was tired and dim but what was there she pushed forward into his lyrium.

She could feel him sink into her touch and he wrapped himself around her rolling them again, so he was on top. He separated from her kiss and leaned up on his elbows to look at her. When he spoke, her warrior was back and she felt his strength flow out from his markings. "Where do we go from here?"

She bit her lip, not really wanting to say it. _This is going be a fight_, she thought, _there's no way this isn't going to be a fight. _She winced and looked away, not wanting to see his reaction. "We go to Kirkwall."

He leapt off of her and she shivered from the loss of his heat against her skin. "You _must_ be joking!" It was just of a level to be a shout. She scrambled off the floor and into the bed to wrap herself in the thin blanket that lay there.

"Oh, of course I would joke about that, because it's so _funny_." He gave her sarcasm a scathing look and he started to pace the small room. Hawke twisted her lips and bit her tongue, trying not to smile at the sight of Fenris angrily pacing, naked. She slumped her shoulders to try to explain and make her case. "Right before my interaction with Cassian degenerated into a brawl, he let it slip that Danarius was hiding in Kirkwall. He thought I was working with Danarius and that the two of us were plotting to eliminate him and Hadriana both. He accused me of tipping off the Qunari to the existence of their operation in the caves."

Fenris scoffed. "Hmph. It was clearly Crasta who brought the Qunari down on all of us. He wanted to kill everyone in one fell swoop."

"Crasta? But how could he have possibly known where we were? I didn't even know where we were. I still don't know where we are! How does that sick bastard know everything?"

Fenris sat down next to her on the bed. His nose was crinkled in disdain. "The answer to that is likely more extensive than either of us is comfortable knowing. He knew we dreamt of Seheron. For all we know he can enter our dreams at will, or read our minds through my lyrium, or your blood."

It was Hawke's turn to scoff. "Hmph. You can't read minds with magic. If you could, don't you think I would have helped you get your memories back by now? Don't give him any more credit than he's due. And he's not due any." She folded her arms across her chest and pouted.

"You yourself admitted to ignorance of what he could do with your blood."

He backed right into that one. She smiled at him. "Exactly! Which is why we have to go to Kirkwall, get rid of Danarius, get your magic back and then we can deal with Crasta."

Fenris stood up again and looked down at her while pointing a very scolding finger. "That is _out of the question_. You cannot leave Tevinter. It was a risk even coming to Seheron. Your one protection lies in staying within the safety of mage-controlled Imperial territory."

Hawke grabbed his hand and lowered his accusing finger. "No, Fenris, my protection is, as it has always been, myself. But I no longer have just myself. Now, I have you protecting me too. You of all people should know being under the thumb of the magisters is no protection." She could see his reluctant agreement and she knew she could pull forth his acceptance. "We follow this path, love. I know, I just _know, _at the end of it, both of us will be free."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

They arrived back in Minrathous in the dead of night. Isabela couldn't be convinced to make berth anywhere in Seheron with the Qunari so close. But, they needed supplies and though the _Dauntless_ had made it through Hawke's storm, it was hardly up for an extended journey south. So, they limped back into port in the capital and Hawke and Fenris now led their strays back to the estate.

Other than issuing a few orders to the slaves they had acquired, Fenris had been largely silent on their walk from the docks. Hawke was amazed at how he managed to make exhaustion look angry. Their days on the ship after the storm had been less than pleasant for him, at least outside of their cabin. Isabela and Varric had been utterly merciless. Hawke could hardly fault them, and it was only some good natured teasing. The foolish man had nearly taken her right on the deck. What did he think was going to happen?

The worst of it had been when he found Varric's highly embellished _and_ vividly illustrated accounting of the event being passed around among the crew for entertainment. It took Hawke and Isabela both to keep Fenris from throwing people overboard. At least after that, the crew stayed clear of him, even more so than they already had been. Hawke took it all in stride, but she couldn't keep from wondering if most of his silent brooding was actually him plotting revenge in his head. She secretly hoped he would find his silly vengeance against her roguish friends and that everyone would get it all out of their system before they had to embark again.

Before long they arrived at her appropriated mansion. Never so happy at the prospect of falling asleep in a luxurious bed, Hawke pushed open the doors and they filed inside. The lamps were all lit and as they were setting down their things, soft footsteps hurried into the hall. Orana emerged from a far corridor and she beamed at them, rushing over to help Hawke and Fenris.

"Welcome home mistress!"

Hawke corrected her. She had lost count of how many times she had corrected her already, but she would continue to do so if it took her last breath. "_Hawke, _Orana_._ You can call me Hawke." She gave Fenris a narrow eyed glare when she caught him rolling his eyes at her and huffing, not at all subtly. "Orana, do you think you can make these people welcome?" She gestured at the small group of slaves that they had brought with them from Seheron, all hanging their heads demurely. "They were previously in the service of Magister...ummm..." She searched her memory of the chaos that was their escape from the caves. "Fenris, did we ever actually get that woman's name?"

He shrugged noncommittally as he unpacked weapons.

"Mm. Yes, well, she's dead now anyway...so...they'll just be with us then, alright? You'll let them know we do things a bit differently here, dear, won't you?" Orana looked confused, but she nodded her head.

"There's a bath waiting for you upstairs Mistr-..._Hawke_." Orana corrected herself. Hawke was making progress.

"But how did you know we'd arrive back tonight? You haven't been doing this every night have you?" Hawke laughed a little thinking it was a joke, but Fenris shattered the notion.

"Of course she has, Marian." He grumbled as he started up the stairs to bed. Despite his current surly disposition, however, he did pause to say softly and sincerely, "Thank you, Orana", before he continued on.

Hawke also opted for a simple, "Thank you, Orana. That was kind of you and it is greatly appreciated." She moved to climb up the staircase after Fenris, but then she remembered and turned back. "Oh! I almost forgot. This is for you." She reached into her pocket and handed the elf the signet ring she had taken from Cassian's corpse. The girl accepted it wide eyed, mouth hanging open. Hawke just smiled and turned to follow Fenris. She shouted down over her shoulder, pointing at the ring. "He's dead too, by the way. Goodnight."

xxxx

Fenris wearily ascended the stairs to their bedchamber. The silence in the mansion was blissful. The solid ground beneath his feet and the lovely _space_ around him was even more so. Many years a slave and many years on the run had not helped him prepare for the types of interaction with people he now found himself engaging in daily.

Being with Marian was different...easy, comfortable, and he was well aware that she did most of the work; either drawing him out or letting him be, which ever was called for. Dealing with others, without having the old lessons of either subservience or violence to fall back on, was exhausting.

He hung his head as he walked down the hall, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep with Marian's head on his chest so he could smell her hair. He felt her come up behind him idly brushing her fingers along his arm as she passed and approached the door to their rooms.

When she turned the knob and started to open it, he knew Crasta was there even before he looked up and actually saw him. Fenris nearly knocked Marian down when he shot forward, not thinking, towards the tall magister casually leaning near the balcony door. Without consideration of the consequences, and before the mage could react, Fenris deliberately and directly punched him in the face.

Crasta was knocked off balance and had to catch himself against the wall. Fenris's sharp eyes caught the fine spatter of blood that sprayed off the man's mouth and his sharp ears heard the puff of air that escaped the man's lungs. It's possible nothing had ever felt so satisfying. A twisted smile spread across his face and he just stood there, dumbly, happy to wait for the inevitable retribution. The memory of Marian's black eye, that had taken a week to heal completely, made this _so_ worth it.

Marian cried out an aggravated curse in Trade and ran over, grabbing Fenris by the arms and pulling him behind her as she stood between the two men. Crasta slowly righted himself to his full height, touching at the small cut oozing blood at the angle of his mouth. The man's frigid blue eyes bore holes into Fenris and the look was accompanied by a smile and a low chuckle that brought bile up into Fenris's throat.

"Do you like it _rough_, little wolf?" He crooned, licking at the blood on his lips.

Fenris gritted his teeth. Marian seethed, and he felt her magic flex and move the air between them as she replied for him. "Why don't you play rough with a mage whose magic you haven't stolen, Loranus? That is if you ever stop hiding behind the vial of my blood."

Crasta erupted in full laughter. "Oh, so fierce, aren't you my little hawk! Well, worry not, I promise that both of you will get my equal attention when time permits." Fenris was sure that if he hadn't grabbed Marian and held her back, she would have jumped on Crasta and tried to claw his eyes out.

The magister turned and walked slowly over to their bed and sat on the edge, leaning back on his hands. Fenris thought he would have to ask Marian to burn the now tainted piece of furniture to cinders later.

"Fortunately for your very protective slave, little hawk, I am in a good mood this evening and am very pleased with both of you. I came here to praise you, my pets and look how I'm greeted." He said in a mockingly hurt voice. Fenris's stomach felt as if it wanted to turn inside out, remembering just what a vile thing a magister's pleasure was.

Marian's tense muscles just grew more taut and Fenris let her go when she approached the bed to question their uninvited guest. "What you do want, Loranus? Danarius isn't dead yet, but I'm certain you already know that."

"Yes, yes, all in good time. I have no doubt you will obey my orders without fault. Meanwhile, you've shown yourself to be the most brilliant entertainment we've had in an age. The Archon couldn't be more delighted that we've brought you into the fold."

Marian made a disgusted noise as she turned and sat down in a chair in front of the hearth and stared into the fire, deliberately not looking at Crasta. "I am not 'in the fold'." Then she looked back up at him. "Do not make the mistake of thinking that holding my blood means you own me."

"_You_ mistake _me_, my dear." Infuriatingly, the man continued to converse with easy amusement. "I have a gift for you. You see, we have every expectation that you will make sure Danarius isn't long for this world. You're help in this matter won't go unrewarded. The Archon is prepared to offer you Imperial citizenship and a seat in the Magisterium."

Cold fear gripped Fenris. Marian's mouth dropped open and before she could speak, he heard himself interrupt, stepping forward quickly to address Crasta. The words he spoke sounded old and strange in his mouth and the taste of them made him nauseous. "Master please, may I speak with my Mistress alone? She is...foreign, I can explain your offer to her...in her own tongue." He was appropriately pleading and deferential, and he was sickened at how easily the manner came back to him. He ignored the voice of the free man inside him screaming in defiance. This was a means to an end. He had to get Marian alone before she reacted to this very dangerous turn of events. He had to make sure she understood the game they were being drawn into. He had to warn her, protect her. He looked over at her and he could tell she was mortified; shocked at the vision of him as a slave. Fenris wanted to punch the man a second time for forcing him to show her this side of him.

The magister paused, studying Fenris closely and finally responded. "Of course, little wolf, I'm happy to see you serve so well again. I will await you downstairs, but do not keep me waiting long. We have much to discuss." He leisurely rose from the bed and left them alone.

Marian scrambled across the room to slam the door shut. She was unsettled and her voice was a higher pitch than usual, laced with a touch of crazed urgency. "Fenris, what..._what, by Andraste's holy ass,_ was that?"

He stepped over to her and held her tightly by the shoulders. "Marian, listen to me." She relaxed a little under his touch, clearly soothed by the command in his tone that came from the man she knew, not the slave from years better forgotten. "This man is a sadist. This is all a manipulation." His hands squeezed her tighter, pulled her closer. He didn't want to explain this to her. He didn't want to explain why he knew these things. His only consolation was that he knew she wouldn't ask him how he knew these things. "There is no torture without respite, Marian."

She looked up at him silent, her forehead etched deep with lines of concern. He let his words sink in, then continued. "There is no true surrender without first holding on to hope. The powerful master is one who knows that using relief as a tool can make suffering more acute." His words were choked now and he fought back anger at the dredged up memories.

Marian lifted her hand to his face to trace a line of lyrium from his chin, following its path down his neck. He felt her settle the turbulence of her magic that had been growing. When she spoke she was calm. "I am not so naive, Fenris. What he thinks he is accomplishing and what I will actually allow are two _very_ different things."

Crasta was right. His little Hawke was fierce. Fenris laid out his concerns. "I have no doubt that he and the Archon know what transpired in Seheron. They are obviously impressed with you, which means they want to use you. If they appoint you a magister, and you kill Danarius, they will claim the victory for themselves. His supporters will fall in line behind the Archon. Because they hold your blood, they can continue to use you as a threat and they will have your guaranteed vote in the senate." He turned away, not wanting to look at her as he said the next part. "I can only imagine they are allowing me to stay with you because they plan to use me against you somehow if they need to. You've not hidden your affections. You should have."

She turned him around. She had a hugely inappropriate smile on her face. "I'm proud of my 'affections', Fenris, and they will regret it if they try to use them or you against me." She sat back down in front of the fire. "So, what do you advise?"

Fenris sat down opposite her. "You don't want to hear this, but you must accept and play along." She slumped further down into the chair and pouted as he knew she would. "Disregarding the fact that they are trying to make you their pawn, this position will make you a very powerful pawn at least. Additionally," He hated that he was about to admit she was right. He had hoped to argue his side on this point a bit more before inevitably agreeing with her. "if we must go to Kirkwall to take care of Danarius, the perceived favor of an Imperial Archon will offer you protection from the Chantry."

"Oh, _that_ would go over just wonderfully! Are you proposing I sail into Kirkwall, flying Imperial colors and march through the city in magister robes waving a staff right up to Danarius's doorstep?"

"I am proposing no such nonsense. I am simply implying that the option is there should the need arise. We must choose one enemy to fight at a time, Marian. Current circumstances necessitate that we submit to Crasta for now. If we are confronted with any soldiers of your Chantry when we go to deal with Danarius, then we can use your position to our advantage." Fenris had spoken his piece. He knew she would have to decide on her own.

"You know, my father taught us your language when we were young, just in case." Marian's dark eyes searched the fire for answers. "I asked him once, before I knew better, why we always had to _run; _why we couldn't just go where mages weren't hunted and imprisoned. He said hunted was better than corrupted. He didn't want to raise his children here. He told us we were to come to Tevinter only as a last resort." She gave Fenris half of a sad smile. "Now look at me. I'm a slave-owning magister Fenris." She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, then back down to him. "But we do what we must, don't we? I already decided to follow this path to its end." Her eyes pleaded with him. He imagined a woman like Marian would have trouble asking. Without speaking, she sought out his permission, his support, his reassurance.

He gave it without hesitation. "If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side."

xxxx

"I accept." That was all Hawke could bear to say. Fenris had suggested she make a more elaborate statement of appreciation, but she just didn't have it in her. As it was, she hoped Crasta choked on her acceptance.

"Of course you do." The man was lounging in a chair by a fire next to a bottle of wine in a sitting room that Hawke didn't even know she had. One of the slaves had been sent to fetch them, to direct them to where the magister was waiting. He looked at her, still apparently waiting for something. Hawke shrugged her shoulders at him. "Well?" He said in response. "Aren't you going to thank me?"

"No." She replied curtly, but Fenris kicked her boot from where he stood behind her. "Thank you." She said, and she hoped he choked on that too.

"I'm very glad I allowed you to keep the little wolf, my dear. He seems to be advising you appropriately. He was very well-trained in the past. Despite his little outburst upstairs, I'm also glad to see that he remembers his manners. In fact, a bit of fighting spirit is what I prefer in my slaves anyway. Your sister for instance, little wolf, is quite the spirited girl..."

It was Hawke who choked on those words. Fenris put his hand on her back and she felt his lyrium burn, but she couldn't see his face.

Obviously getting the reaction he wanted, Crasta continued. "Do try to spare her, if you can, when you deal with Danarius. She is another _investment_, I would like to have returned to me."

Suddenly templars seemed like such an easy problem to deal with compared to these magisters. And the Qunari were practically old friends. Fenris was silently burning behind her. Crasta clearly expected her to take his bait. How could she not? Anything to help Fenris. And he knew it. He knew entirely too much for her comfort. _Damn him_.

"Investment?" Hawke bit. She had to.

He smiled at her, relaxing back in his chair, taking a slow sip of wine from the glass in his hand. "This bit of information is my gift to you, little wolf, for knowing your place and returning home as I always knew you would and for helping your new mistress to understand the order of things. You see, your sister knew her place as well and she also returned to it willingly. The freedom you won for her was no boon to one who will never be anything more than a slave. I was kind enough to take her in when she realized that, and she was so grateful for my generosity, she's been nothing but obedient and helpful ever since. Frankly, I just don't know what I would do without her."

Fenris's fingers dug and pushed into Hawke's back. She felt them tremble, but he still said nothing behind her. Hawke didn't even know where to start, but she reached at least one conclusion on her own. "You planted her with Danarius. To what end? To spy for you?"

Crasta laughed so heartily his head fell back. "'To what end?' End, dear Hawke? There is no end. The most enjoyable games have no end. Ah, but the little wolf looks like he has something he wishes to say? You may speak, Fenris."

"_Won_...?" Fenris's voice was dry and cracked and barely above a whisper. Hawke loathed that it appeared as if he had waited for permission to speak.

"Yes, it's a terrible shame you don't remember. I did beg Danarius to let you keep your memory, but he simply couldn't be convinced otherwise. Had you belonged to me, I wouldn't have needed that cheap trick to assure your total devotion." He slowly licked his lips and took another languid sip of wine. Hawke was dizzy with hatred and her ears were ringing with it, growing louder. She could barely hear him as he continued. "You won the honor of receiving those markings we gave you. To this day the proving arena hasn't seen such a glorious display. Your victory earned you not only our gift of the lyrium, but a single request that you foolishly wasted on your sister's freedom. Again, I tried to convince him otherwise, but Danarius allowed it. Thank the gods I was there to pick up the pieces of _that_ folly."

Fenris's hand fell from her back. Hawke said the only thing she could think of as a response to Crasta's 'game'. "Get out." She almost didn't even hear herself speak the words over the rage ringing in her ears. "Get out." She repeated, harsher, sharper.

Crasta slowly set his glass down and rose from his chair. His pale eyes never left Hawke's. "I shall send for you little hawk, after you've rested from your trip. There are several formalities you will need to address. I will trust that Fenris can help to educate you regarding them." As he walked past them, he lifted his hand and raised it to try to brush Fenris's cheek. When Fenris didn't move to avoid it, Hawke's heart clenched inside her chest and she moved her own hand to grab Crasta's by the wrist before he made contact. She pushed him away from Fenris, who was just standing rigid, eyes fixed to the floor. Their bodies moved together a few steps then she threw down his hand and said again, "_Get out_!"

With a final lingering gaze and a smile, he was gone.


End file.
