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Chapter Text

Chapter One

Codex - History of Kirkwall Part 1

It's difficult for many to comprehend today, but there was a time when Kirkwall was believed to be the very edge of the world.

It was Emerius then, named after its founder Magister Emerius Krayvan, and it was but one outpost on the very fringe of the Tevinter Imperium. There the magister's serfs worked at the quarries for the jet stone needed for the mighty temples of Minrathous. After a slave rebellion nearly burned the temple to the ground in the great city, it was determined that a centre for slave trade would need to be established well away from the more civilized parts of the Imperium. (Though account may be exaggerated, since the notorious Archon Vanarius Issar narrowly escaped assassination at the hands of an elven slave at the time.)

Because the new slave outpost would become wealthy beyond imagining, competition among prospects reportedly took over twenty years to resolve, resulting in great bloodshed in the frontier, well away from the archon's eyes. Magister took arms against magister, mostly in the form of small armies of serfs and mercenaries. Over half the slaves in existence allegedly died in these battles before Emerius was finally chosen, thanks to the marriage of Krayvan's son to the archon's daughter.

Within a mere decade, the mighty fortress was erected on the cliff where Kirkwall now stands. Over one million slaves passed through its gates before the Imperium eventually fell, an unimaginable number by today's standards. The Krayvan family itself became patrons of the next three archons and was one of the driving forces behind the extension of the Imperial highway into Ferelden valley, a move that would cost them considerable political influence after the resistance of the Alamarri tribes. During its height, Emerius was a jewel to rival the mightiest of the Imperial cities and the greatest centre of civilization outside Tevinter.

—From Kirkwall: the City of Chains, by Brother Genitivi

*

Hawke awoke from the nightmare which had haunted him since Bethany's death only to
find that the nightmare hadn't ended. They were still stuck in the bowels of a ship bound for Kirkwall, the one city he would never have chosen. Hawke had heard rumours that there were more templars in Kirkwall than ordinary civilians. Mages wouldn't be safe in Kirkwall. He wouldn't be safe in Kirkwall but it was his mother's wish to return to the city of her birth and Hawke hadn't the heart to deny her. Leandra Hawke had lost her husband and her daughter in too short a time. Hawke wasn't going to deny his mother her heritage no matter how dangerous it might be for him. They'd make the best of things like they always did.

Daylight shone down from the grille above them and Hawke stared at the cloudless blue sky wondering what he could have done to prevent his sister's death. Maybe if he'd been faster or knew a different spell. Or maybe if he'd known some better healing magics Bethany might still be alive. Carver had been vociferous in blaming his older brother and for once Hawke had no witty comeback for he knew it was true. It was his fault Bethany was dead and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Even his mother blamed him; it was there in the cold looks she gave him, although she hadn't quite said it to his face.

"Please, won't someone help this poor man?" A voice wailed from the other side of the hold. Hawke glanced over and saw a woman cradling a white-haired man in her arms. The woman's gown was stained crimson with blood.

"He ain't a man," said one of the other passengers. "He's an escaped slave by the looks of things. Do you see those rough patches round his wrists and neck? That's where he was bound in a collar and shackles. I reckon there might be a good reward in it once we get to Kirkwall."

Hawke wasn't in a very sociable mood but he knew he couldn't just stand by and watch the man bleed to death. It wouldn't bring his sister back but it might help provide some balm for his troubled soul. "Slavery's illegal in Kirkwall," Hawke said as he approached the woman and the wounded man. "You'll get no reward there." Hawke knelt down next to them. At first he thought the white hair indicated great age, but the stranger's face was smooth and Hawke saw a pointed ear peek out from a lock of white hair. An elf then, so he might indeed be old, but you could never tell an elf's age just by looking at him "Are you a friend of his?"

"No, serah, but I just couldn't let him die! I don't know what's wrong, I don't know where all this blood is coming from. He doesn't appear to be wounded."

Hawke suspected the elf might be suffering from some sort of bloody flux. The conditions on board ship were worse than primitive, with human waste next to what little food there was. It was a wonder more people hadn't got sick. If that was the case and the elf was bleeding from his back passage, it probably wasn't something he would want broadcast to the whole ship, but there was no privacy to be had.

One of the passengers growled at Hawke. "You're an apostate. You're not even trying to hide your staff. If we won't get money for the slave, we'd get money for you. I'm sure the templars would pay handsomely for a renegade mage."

"Touch my brother and I'll kill you," said Carver as he appeared suddenly behind the man, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"And I'd help," said Aveline as she joined Carver. Hawke glanced at both of them in surprise. His brother defending him he could understand, but Aveline? The widow of a templar and she wouldn't report him to the templars? The disgruntled passengers moved off, grumbling to themselves.

"What's going on?" Carver asked.

"This elf is very ill. Could you and Aveline sort me out some sort of screen for privacy? I know if it was me lying here I wouldn't want the whole world to see me either. Miss, can you go with them?"

The young woman nodded and the three of them headed off to find something they could use as a screen. Hawke had never seen many elves, his father had always forbidden him to go to the Alienage in Denerim when they lived there for a time and there were no elves in Lothering that he knew of. He'd heard stories, of course, everyone had. This elf had strange curlicue designs of tattoos on his arms and similar markings on his face and neck. His chest was hidden by a brown leather tunic and cuirass so Hawke couldn't see whether the tattoos were on his chest too. Was he one of the Dalish elves, then? When the Dalish came of age, they underwent a ceremony to place Vallaslin, tattoos created with their own blood. It had always sounded painful to Hawke.

Carver and the others returned with some cargo crates that they hastily made into a makeshift room. It wasn't a clinic or infirmary, but it was the best they could do on the ship.

"Thanks," said Hawke.

"Do you need any help?" asked Aveline.

"Not at the moment, but could you and Carver stay nearby, just in case?"

They both nodded and Hawke closed his eyes. He held his hands out over the elf's body as he communed with the Fade and scanned the elf for any injuries and sickness. A pale shadow of the elf's body appeared in the Fade before him, twisting and turning this way and that, allowing Hawke to see at once what the problem was. It wasn't a flux, as he'd first suspected. There was a shallow wound on the elf's back and there was something magical about the weapon which had inflicted it. Hawke could sense the mana still on the elf's back from whatever dagger or knife had been used. A sword would have left a much bigger hole. The blade had been infused with something that prevented the blood from clotting. Ordinarily, such a shallow wound should not have been that dangerous, but the elf could die from the unexpected bleeding if Hawke couldn't stop it.

Hawke opened his eyes and found himself staring down at the brightest, greenest eyes he'd ever seen. His throat caught. He'd heard that elves were beautiful, but nothing could have prepared him for how beautiful they truly were.

"Do not touch me with your foul magics, Mage!" said the elf, struggling to sit up and looking as if he wanted to get as far away from Hawke as he could.

"You need healing," Hawke said simply. "That wound on your back will kill you if you aren't healed."

"Nonsense, it's a scratch, nothing more."

"And scratches usually bleed that much, do they?" Hawke gestured to the elf's saturated clothes and the pool of blood.

The elf looked down and paled on seeing the crimson stains. "What – I don't – what is this?"

"There is some dark magic in the wound. The blade used had demonic magic within it. The bleeding won't stop without help. Please, allow me to heal you."

"Are you one of them?" the elf demanded. "A blood mage? An abomination?"

"Of course not!" said Carver. "My brother is a healer. He's had no dealings with demons. He's far too sensible for that."

"Do you need to use magic to heal me?" the elf slumped against one of the crates, as even speaking was taking a lot out of him.

"Not necessarily," said Hawke, realising that the elf, despite his bravado had some fear of magic and did not want it used on him. "I have a herbal tonic which will help slow the bleeding, but I'd need to stitch up the wound to close it. It would be painful, I have nothing with me to use as anaesthetic. Magic would heal you that much quicker, though. And I'm not sure anything besides magic is going to stop this bleeding, I'm sorry."

"Do what you must." The elf slumped against the crates once more and Hawke could see both his hands making a fist.

"I'm Aemond Hawke, this is my brother Carver and this is Aveline Vallen."

"Hawke is a good man," Aveline said softly. "He saved us from the darkspawn as we ran from the Blight. He will not harm you."

The elf looked at the three of them, his eyes wide. "I – I do not know my real name. My previous master called me Fenris, his little wolf."

Hawke held out his hand and Fenris stared at it, as if not quite knowing what to do. "It's customary among my people to shake hands when you greet a friend," said Hawke, grinning. "Do elves not do that?"

"I don't know. I've never met another elf, or if I did I have no memory of it."

"We can talk later, after I've healed you. That wound isn't going to close by itself. Are you ready, Fenris?"

"What must I do?"

"You just need to keep still. I will cast healing magics on you and in a few moments you will be as right as rain."

"What a strange expression," said Fenris. He nodded and seemed resigned to his fate."I am ready."

*

Fenris closed his eyes, hoping against hope that this time magic wouldn't hurt him. Healing magic must differ from offensive spells, the ones Danarius and Hadriana most often used on him. The pain they could inflict was extraordinary. Fenris didn't want the pain. He didn't want to look weak in front of these people. Aveline and Carver looked like hardened warriors and Hawke was a mage. He could kill Fenris with a click of his fingers.

In the following few seconds, Fenris lost all hope that healing spells would be different. Agony flared through his markings and his whole body arched in a rictus of pain. Someone was howling, screaming and it took a while to realise that the screams were coming from his own throat. Fenris tried to stop screaming, tried to accept the agony stoically, but it was no use. He could no more be silent than he could stop the sun from rising. Fenris' throat ached, his head throbbed as he screamed and screamed, unable to even crawl away from the torment Hawke was inflicting upon him. His body was no longer under his control but under control from a mage, just like before.

No! His life was his own now and no mage was going to control him ever again. Fenris concentrated as hard as he could, trying to ignore the pain. He lashed out with his arms and legs and he heard Hawke grunt as he was pushed aside. The agony subsided and Fenris could breathe easily again. Carver rushed to Hawke's side and glared in Fenris' direction.

"He was trying to help you!"

"I'm all right, Carver. Just winded." Hawke crawled back to where Fenris was sitting slumped against the crates. "I'm sorry, Fenris. I had no idea magic would pain you so. It's your markings, isn't it? They aren't just tattoos, are they?"

"No. They are lyrium. They were carved into my flesh against my will, in a ritual I remember only for the agony it caused me."

"Oh, Maker," said Hawke. "Someone carved lyrium into your skin? I can't imagine how painful that must have been."

"No, you can't," said Fenris bitterly. "The agony defies description."

"Fenris, I'm sorry. I haven't yet finished closing your wound. A few minutes more, that's all I need to heal you."

A few minutes? A few minutes of agony that felt like eternity, but Fenris was no coward. The pain would stop eventually, but he hated how little control he had during it. It was as if his world consisted of nothing else but the aches in his whole body.

"Then gag me," said Fenris.

"Gag you?" asked Hawke, as if he'd never heard of the word before.

"I don't want the whole ship to hear me making a fool of myself again. Gag me so I can't scream."

"Screaming because you are in excruciating pain is not making a fool of yourself," said Hawke.

"If you wish to heal me properly, gag me. Please," said Fenris and hated himself for having to plead for anything from a mage.

"Very well, then," said Hawke, ripping the sleeve from his linen shirt. Fenris gaped at the highly defined muscles on Hawke's bare arm. He had always assumed that most mages, like the magisters, where inherently lazy and used magic even for the most simple of tasks. Seeing Hawke's bulging biceps, he realised that couldn't be true in this case. There was no way Hawke had gained such a physique without some form of physical labour.

Hawke twisted his torn sleeve into a makeshift gag and reached towards Fenris' head with it. Fenris tried to scramble away, but there was nowhere to go, he was already right against the crates. His heart thudded against his ribs and his markings flared, anticipating danger, like so many times before.

"No!" Fenris gasped and grabbed the linen from Hawke's hands. "I will do it. I do not like to be touched."

Hawke nodded, as if he dealt with prickly ex-slaves and their issues all the time. Fenris knew deep down that this mage at least did not intend to harm him, but it was still difficult to give up control. Fenris remembered all too well the times Danarius had gagged him so he couldn't scream or cry for help. Not that he ever did, even when he wasn't gagged, for he knew no one in that mansion would ever come to his aid. Screaming did nothing except earn him more punishments.

"Er, your markings are glowing," said Carver.

Fenris held out his arms in front of him and they all could see the lyrium glowing blue underneath his skin. "The magister who gave me these markings, he created me as a living weapon. When my markings glow, my body becomes something else. I don't know how I can do it, but I can reach through a man's chest with my bare hands and squeeze his heart where it sits. They are also my protection and flare when they sense danger."

"Well, you're not in any danger now," said Aveline, shaking her red hair away from her face.

"Am I not?" asked Fenris. "I am at the mercy of a mage and two warriors."

"I won't harm you, Fenris. I swear it," said Hawke.

Fenris nodded and tied the gag around his mouth. For some reason, even though his instincts were screaming at him to never trust a mage, he found he did trust this one.

Hawke would keep his promises.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

Codex Entry: The Gallows

Statues of tortured slaves fill the Gallows courtyard, a ghastly memento of Kirkwall's history. Fifteen-hundred years ago, Kirkwall was the Tevinter Imperium's largest quarry, feeding the construction of the Imperial Highway.

The Imperium's hunger for expansion led to legions of slaves forced into working the quarry. When the empire's construction phase ended, Kirkwall slid naturally into its new role as the capital of the slave trade—the Gallows at its heart.

The statues are not monuments to the suffering of slaves. Every inch and angle of the courtyard was designed by magisters bent on breaking the spirit of newcomers. Executions here took place daily, sometimes hourly, and corpses were hung from gibbets throughout the yard. New slaves trudging in from the docks saw what awaited them.

When Our Lady turned her armies against the Imperium, the slaves of Kirkwall revolted and claimed the city for themselves. The Gallows stood empty for two hundred years, not to be reopened until the crowning of Divine Justinia I. The Gallows transformed the city again when the abandoned prison tower became the home of Kirkwall's Circle.

—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi

*

For the next few weeks, Leandra Hawke took Fenris under her wing and would share what little food the group had with the elf. Fenris didn't seem to know what to make of this, as if he had never been offered even a little kindness in his life before. Hawke felt his heart hurt at just the thought of it. They weren't rich, but as a family they'd muddled through somehow and they hadn't often grown hungry. The way Fenris devoured any food he was given, with worried glances around him, made Hawke think that he had been starved frequently by his so-called master. Hawke had never undestood how one man could make a slave of another, as if some lives were worth more than others. They were all the Maker's children, weren't they?

Hawke could hardly wait to get off the ship and two weeks after he'd first met Fenris, the ship docked in Kirkwall and everyone disembarked, only to discover that the gates were closed against them and hundreds of refugees were camped out on the docks underneath the bleak grey towers of The Gallows, once the centre of the slave trade and now a prison for mages. The Gallows held Kirwall's Circle of Magi, where Hawke would no doubt end up if the templars ever caught him.

Fenris stared around him, taking in the bronze statues guarding the harbour. "I have heard of the Circles of Magi outside of Tevinter, but I've never been in one."

"Is the Circle so different in Tevinter, Fenris?" asked Aveline.

"Very different, yes. Originally the Circle was the same as everywhere else. Magisters and mages were ruled over by the Chantry, with templars to enforce any rule-breaking. But some magisters did not like that at all. Why should they be ruled over by lesser men? They had magic, they had power, why should they be locked up and their powers fettered? So they decided that they should rule themselves. They killed the templars, disbanded the Chantry and created their own Circle, where they ruled over themselves. Or rather, they didn't. There was no one to keep them in check and their powers flourished. But still they wanted more and turned to blood magic, feeling no qualms about sacrificing slaves and children to fulfill this need."

Aveline's face paled and her freckles all but disappeared. "And this is allowed in Tevinter?"

"Allowed?" Fenris gave a hollow laugh. "Nay, it is essential if you wish to remain in the senate. Magisters who don't use blood magic are easily defeated by their enemies. I have never yet seen a magister who hasn't used it. In Tevinter, the magisters hold all power over the Chantry, over the Imperial Court, over life itself. The more influential the magister, the more slaves he has. Danarius had many slaves, but none he valued as much as me. I am unique, but in ancient times there were many warrior slaves in Tevinter with these skills."

"If they considered you so rare and valuable, how did you get away?" Hawke mused, almost to himself.

"Is it not enough that I did? I carved my way to freedom in blood. I left that life behind yet his bounty hunters follow no matter where I go. I will run no longer. He doesn't even want me. All Danarius wants are the markings on my body. The lyrium was burned into my flesh to provide the power that he wanted for his pet. Now he wishes his precious investment back, even if he must rip it from my corpse." Fenris paced, as if he was a caged animal looking for freedom.

Hawke smiled. "That would be a shame. Seems a waste of a perfectly handsome elf."

Fenris coughed and looked away as if he was trying to hide a smile of his own. Hawke's heart lifted.

"I'll say this, you speak what's on your mind," said Fenris.

"He does at that," said Aveline. "What you see is what you get with our Hawke."

"You call him by his family name?" Fenris' eyebrows rose to his hairline and Hawke was entranced anew. The elf was so striking in appearance he almost didn't seem quite real. Maybe this was all some weird dream but nothing had the strange shimmering quality that denoted the Fade.

"Everyone calls me Hawke, except for my mother of course. Even my brother calls me Hawke."

"Why have you come to Kirkwall, Fenris?" asked Aveline.

"My previous master visits the city frequently. I intend to confront him."

"Confront him? It sounds like you want to do more than talk," said Hawke.

"The time for talking has passed," said Fenris.

"Perhaps you can find a way to pay this Danarius back?"

"Oh, I intend to," said Fenris. "I will pay him in blood and watch him scream for mercy, but he shall have none. You have no idea what he's done to me, what I had to do to get away from him. He kept me on a leash like a Qunari mage. His own personal pet to mock Qunari custom."

"I'm sorry. I meant no offense," said Hawke softly. Talking to Fenris was like trying to calm a skittish horse and both took a lot of time and patience.

"So, these markings are what he's after? Your abilities come from them?"

"Some. All I know is that even in the Imperium, warriors such as myself are rare. Perhaps they thought I should feel honoured? As if it was honourable, giving a warrior slave extra ways to kill. Tevinters know nothing of honour. Void take the lot of them, magisters and mages both."

Hawke's heart fell to somewhere near his shoes. "Not all mages are like Danarius, Fenris. And not all of us resort to blood magic either," Hawke said. He wanted Fenris to like him, but how when Fenris hated what Hawke inherently was? Hawke was born with magic, he didn't ask for it and he couldn't get rid of it. It was something beyond his control.

"No, but they are all tempted by demons frequently, are they not? Or do you deny that you've ever seen a demon?"

"I've seen them," said Hawke. "But I've never entered into a bargain with one and I have no intention of ever doing so."

"Words," said Fenris. "There may come a day when the price a demon offers is one you're willing to pay."

"Never," said Hawke firmly.

"We shall see," said Fenris, shaking his head.

"Why aren't they letting anyone in?" asked Leandra as she approached them. "Do you think Gamlen received my letter? I thought he'd be here to meet us."

"That soldier over there seems to be in charge," said Aveline, nodding to a sandy-haired man guarding the steps leading up from the docks. "Shall we go and see what's happening?"

Hawke took his brother aside. "Carver, you'll need to stay here and look after Mother while we go and see what's going on."

"That's right. You're the eldest so you get to lead by default and I'm left like a child to babysit mother. Why can't I go with you lot?"

"Because someone needs to look after Mother. I can't be everywhere at once, Carver."

"No, you can't. Look how that turned out when you took your eyes off Bethany for a second."

"Don't you dare bring her into this!"

"Why not? It's your fault she's dead and you know it."

The words cut Hawke to the bone because he knew they were true and nothing he said would ever change the fact that it was his fault that their sister was dead. "Hawke, I will look after your mother if your brother wishes to accompany you," said Fenris. "I doubt they would heed anything from an elf anyway."

"Thank you, Fenris, if you're sure?"

Fenris nodded and waved Carver and Hawke back towards Aveline. The three of them made their way to the soldier, leaving Fenris to look after Leandra. The long journey cooped up in that hold had not been good for his mother. She looked ten years older in the weeks it had taken them to get to Kirkwall and now to be stopped at the last hurdle was almost more than any of them could bear. Hawke was impressed with Aveline's strength, although he had heard her crying some nights when she thought the others couldn't hear. Hawke hadn't cried in his grief at losing his only sister. He'd been too numb to cry.

A group of refugees were harassing the soldier who looked as if he'd like nothing better than to use his sword to strike them all down. He saw Hawke and his companions and his eyes narrowed. "Hey, get back! The gates are closed! There's no more room!"

"Isn't there someone we could talk to?" asked Hawke. "We have family in the city."

"You expect me to believe that?" asked the soldier. "I've heard that one before. But if you're so keen, go and talk to Captain Ewald. Top of the steps and turn right. You can't miss him. He'll be the one looking fed up."

"Thank you." Hawke nodded to Aveline and Carver and then they continued on up the steps. It was indeed hard to miss the captain. He was surrounded by even more refugees than had been downstairs.

"You have to let us in!" protested one of the refugees.

"We've been letting Ferelden refugees in for months. The city can't hold any more people, I already told you that."

"And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Get back on the ships and go somewhere else. Try Rivain or Orlais. Kirkwall is full."

"We can't!" protested another refugee. "We've used our last coin on the ship to get here. We don't have enough for passage anywhere else!"

Hawke nodded, for they were in the same predicament. All their coin had gone on the passage to Kirkwall, they didn't even have enough left for food from the vendors on the docks.

"We have family in the city," said Carver, marching straight up to the captain.

"You think I haven't heard that one a thousand times already? Think of something original."

"No, really. His name's Gamlen Amell and he's a nobleman. We have an estate in Kirkwall."

The guard raked his eyes over Carver's clothes, a homepsun tunic and leather leggings, all of it topped off with his longsword. They couldn't have looked less like nobles if they'd tried. The guard captain rubbed his chin. "Gamlen? That name does sound familiar. If I can find him, I'll send him to you."

"What?" demanded one of the refugees. "You're going to let them in just like that?"

"I didn't say anything about letting them in. Their uncle would need to sort that out himself, and the coin to back it up. Go on, scatter, the lot of you. I've had enough of this for today."

**

For three days, Leandra had scanned the crowds, her head jerking from side to side as she tried to spot her brother. They'd scavenged enough coin between them to get at least one meal, but their money was all gone now and they were all tired, hungry and out of sorts. Maybe the guardsman had never bothered to give Gamlen any message at all.

On the fourth day, Leandra ran across the docks and embraced a tall, grey-haired man who looked as haggard and down-trodden as the refugees. Was this their noble uncle? Leandra took his hand and led him back to the others. "Gamlen, these are your nephews Aemond and Carver. This is Aveline Vallen and this is Fenris." Fenris and Aveline both nodded, which was returned by Gamlen.

"Oh, Gamlen, it's so good to see you!" Leandra's voice wobbled with unshed tears.

"You look terrible, Leandra," said Gamlen.

"Grief can do that," said Hawke. "Our sister Bethany didn't make it."

"Oh, Maker. Little Bethany? Gone? I'm sorry this has happened, but you should never have come here, Leandra. There's nothing I can do."

"Nothing you can do? But Gamlen, you're our only family now. I know Mother and Father were upset when I left with Malcolm, but surely they forgave me before they died? Surely they left some provision for their grandchildren at least? I know they probably left the Amell estate to you and rightly so, I wouldn't dream of putting you out of your home. But maybe we could stay in the servants' quarters, just until we get settled?"

Gamlen blushed crimson, even the top of his ears turned pink. He rubbed at the back of his neck and it was then that Hawke took notice of his uncle's attire. This man in front of him was nothing like the man in his mother's stories. Leandra's tales had painted Gamlen as something of a playboy, a slave to fashion, wearing frock-coats, silks and satins and flitting from one warm bed to the next, never settling on any one woman. Gamlen was wearing plain cotton shirt, a leather jerkin over it and woollen trousers. It was something a farmer or a labourer would wear, not a nobleman.

"Leandra, about that. The estate, the house, everything. It's gone. There's nothing left. The Amell fortune is gone."

"What do you mean it's gone? What happened?"

"It had to be used to settle a debt."

"A debt? Don't be ridiculous! Father had no debts. He would never have borrowed money from anyone. He would have rather starved in the streets. It was you, wasn't it? Oh, Gamlen, what have you done?"

"It doesn't matter now, does it? The estate and the money's gone so I can't help you. They aren't letting anyone into the city unless they can pay a generous bribe and I don't have the coin to help you all get in."

"How about getting Mother in?" asked Hawke, Carver nodding his agreement.

"No!" snapped Leandra. "Either all five of us get in or none of us do. You'd better do something, Gamlen. After all it's your fault our family's destitute now."

Gamlen raised his hands in defeat. "All right! All right! I'll think of something. Just give me a few hours."

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

Codex Entry: Lowtown

Lowtown sits in a massive cauldron-shaped pit that was once Kirkwall's first quarry. The district was constructed by slaves who carved the city and its harbour out of the rock.

Today, Lowtown is a labyrinth of shantytowns, corridors, and hexagonal courtyards—"hexes" in the local parlance. Lowtown's poorest live in caves hewn out of the cliff face. The district is shoddily built and bears scars caused by collapsing walls. Foundry smoke smothers the area. Only a cold winter storm clears the air, but the icy wind howling over the mouths of old mineshafts hardly counts as relief.

Occasionally, these Darktown shafts erupt with gouts of foul air known as chokedamp. It's not uncommon to find whole slums silently suffocated, frozen in the midst of everyday activity.

The walls surrounding Lowtown are highest by the harbour. Its busiest street leads up to Hightown, where the wealthiest Kirkwallers perch. When one stands in Lowtown, all one sees other than the rocky walls is Hightown. It glitters overhead, always in sight, yet always beyond reach.

—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi

When Gamlen returned he was accompanied by a well-dressed, beardless dwarf. Hawke knew he was probably staring, but he'd never seen a dwarf without a beard before. The dwarf's clothes were well-tailored and fitted him perfectly. His leather coat almost reached his ankles and a red and gold sash was tied across his waist. A crossbow was slung across his shoulder and he kept reaching up to touch it, as if to reassure himself it was still there.

"Varric Tethras, at your service," said the dwarf, bowing from the waist as if he was a courtier and Hawke was a prince. Travel worn, clothes sweaty and dirty, Hawke felt less like a prince and more like a beggar. In a way, that's what they were, for hadn't Gamlen just gone and begged this dwarf to help them?

Everyone else introduced themselves and after that was done, Gamlen took Leandra aside.

"Gamlen's told me you need some coin to get into the city. I'd be willing to front up the cash for all of you. House Tethras owes House Hawke a debt and this would be my way of repaying it."

"What debt?" asked Hawke.

"Malcolm Hawke saved my father's life once, but he died before he could repay that honour. Dwarves are very big on honour, even ones like me who were born on the surface. This would settle the honour debt between our Houses."

"You're offering an awful lot for all of us," said Aveline. "Fenris and I aren't even Hawkes, why would you help us too?"

"You're friends of the Hawkes, that's good enough for me."

"This all seem a little too easy," said Hawke. "What do you want in return? You expect us to believe you're just going to pay our way for nothing in return?"

Varric grunted. "Look, I don't want anything in return, this is repaying an honour debt, nothing more, but I do have a proposition if you're interested."

"What sort of proposition? Is this legal?" demanded Aveline. "What exactly do you do, Master Dwarf?"

Varric rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that. Some trading, importing and exporting mostly."

"Smuggling," Carver said with a snort.

Aveline folder her arms across her chest. "I won't be party to something illegal. I was an officer in King Cailen's army."

"Nothing illegal, I assure you. No, my brother and I are organising an expedition into the Deep Roads and Gamlen said you've fought darkspawn before. We could do with someone like you on the expedition, only Bartrand isn't convinced. But if you became investors, then he couldn't say no, could he? Fifty sovereigns and you'd be made a partner."

Hawke shook his head. "Nice idea, but if we had that sort of money we wouldn’t need your help to get into the city, would we? Where are we going to get that sort of coin?"

"Kirkwall's crawling with work," said Varric. "How about we work together and put aside a bit of coin from every job, you'd have the money in no time."

"What do the rest of you think?"

"I don't really want to go into the Deep Roads," said Aveline. "I've never been very good with small spaces. I might be more of a hindrance than a help."

"You were a soldier, Aveline," said Varric. "The City Guard is always looking for new recruits, especially now with the influx of refugees these past few months. They need more to keep the peace. Would it bother you if you had to arrest your countrymen?"

"Not if they were doing something they weren't supposed to," said Aveline. "Thank you, Varric, I might look into that. What about you, Carver? You were a soldier too, the Guard might take you as well."

"Oh, no, I'm not letting Hawke go treasure-hunting in the Deep Roads by himself. I'm going with him, I'm not getting left behind again. If we go, we go together."

"And what about you, Elf?" asked Varric, nodding up towards Fenris.

"I – I have no immediate plans," said Fenris. "If I am welcome to accompany you to the Deep Roads, I will go."

"Of course you're welcome to join us!" said Carver. "What did you think would happen once we reached Kirkwall? That we'd set you loose in a strange city? Mother would never allow it, and neither would my brother. You're one of our little rag-tag group now, Fenris. And we never abandon our own."

"Thank you. I am unused to being so included. I have met few on my travels who sought anything more than personal gain, but you have asked for nothing of me."

"Well, we might want you to fight a few darkspawn," said Varric.

"That is acceptable." Fenris smiled, his eyes seeking out Hawke's and for just a moment it felt as if they were the only two people in the world. Hawke couldn't help smiling back, feeling a blush creep up his neck and face.

Once they had agreed to help Varric, or in Aveline's case see about a position on the City Guard, Varric toddled off to take care of the bribes that would allow them access into the city.

"You both must stay with us until you get settled," said Leandra firmly. Hawke knew how much his mother missed Bethany and so she was trying to mother Fenris and Aveline instead.

"I'm not running an inn, Leandra!" Gamlen protested. "There won't be enough room."

"We don't want to be a burden," said Fenris, Aveline nodding her agreement.

"Nonsense, it's only for a few days. We'll manage for a few days, won't we?" Leandra arched her eyebrow at Gamlen.

"Yes, yes. All right, for a few days," he agreed sullenly.

*

Gamlen led them to the docks again and to the boats that would take them across to the city proper. Kirkwall was larger than Hawke had ever imagined, but then he'd only ever been to Denerim before and the city of Kirkwall would dwarf that five times over. When they reached Lowtown, Gamlen led them through the winding streets.

Hawke felt like a country bumpkin, gawking at everything and everyone. They passed the Lowtown Bazaar where vendors hawked their wares, their voices echoing against the stone. People hurried to and fro on their errands, their faces guarded and some looked with open hostility upon this new influx of refugees. It was easy to see they weren't welcome here, but they had nowhere else to go.

Gamlen marched ahead, Carver at his elbow, Leandra and Aveline in muted conversation behind them, leaving Hawke and Fenris bringing up the rear. "Have you ever been to Kirkwall before, Fenris?"

"A few times with my former master. I was his bodyguard; he didn't travel anywhere without me."

"He was a magister, wasn't he? Couldn't he have protected himself? He had magic to defend himself."

Fenris snorted. "Like everything in the Tevinter Imperium, having a bodyguard was a sign of status. The higher up the social ladder you were, the more slaves and bodyguards you could afford. Danarius had twenty bodyguards including me, but I was the only one he travelled with outside of the Imperium. He thought that having so many guards attending him on the road would be an open invitation to attack. The remainder stayed behind to guard his estates."

"Tevinter seems a strange place," murmured Hawke.

"It is," said Fenris. "And I have no wish to return there anytime soon. The place is crawling with slavers and bounty hunters."

"You won't return," said Hawke. "You have friends now, Fenris. We wouldn't allow Danarius to recapture you."

Fenris glanced at Hawke, his face shuttered. "I – I've never had a friend before. Thank you, Hawke. I will do my best to live up to the trust you have placed in me."

Hawke smiled and nodded, his heart breaking anew for this strange elf who had never had a friend.

*

Gamlen's house was one of the smaller ones in the old slum district and like most of the houses was carved out from the sand coloured rock. A large room doubled as living and kitchen space, with two doors leading off it and Hawke could see a set of bunk beds in each room, but none of them had any pillows or bedding. The living space had a large fireplace with a cauldron and kettle hanging from hooks beside it, along with a table, two chairs and a long bench.

Gamlen rubbed the back of his neck. "Carver and I can take one room, Leandra and Aveline the other. Aemond, you and Fenris will have to make do with the floor and the bench. I'll check with the neighbours, see if they have any spare blankets or pillows. I wasn't expecting guests."

"That's fine, Uncle," said Hawke. "We did rather spring this on you. We'll be fine out here, won't we, Fenris?"

"Yes. I have slept in worse places."

"There's a privvy in the yard out the back," continued Gamlen. "But I don't have a bathing room, the house is too small. There's a bathing house at the back of the Hanged Man, the Mermaid's Pool. They're the cheapest around here."

"Public baths?" asked Leandra, shuddering. They'd never lived in a house big enough for a bathing room either, but they did have their own bath in Lothering.

"Yes, public baths, Leandra. We're not in some fancy Hightown mansion now. There are no servants, no water to bathe you here. This is Lowtown and you'd best get used to that!" With those parting words, Gamlen stomped to the door and slammed it behind him. Fenris and Aveline both looked a bit embarrassed at witnessing the family feud.

"Fenris, would you like to take a walk with me?" asked Aveline, ever the diplomat. "I saw some interesting weapons at the bazaar."

"Yes, thank you," said Fenris, nodding to Leandra as he left the house.

Leandra sank down on the bench and smiled at her two sons, but it was tinged with sadness. "Not really how I imagined my homecoming."

"This will never be home," spat Carver. "Lothering is our home."

"Lothering is gone, Carver. We can't go back, no matter how much we might wish to." Leandra's eyes glistened with unshed tears. Hawke sat down on one of the wooden chairs, hoping it would take his weight.

"You haven't spoken much of our family in Kirkwall, Mother," said Hawke. "I know they were once nobles, but that's about all."

"Yes, we were once noble. My great uncle Aristide was once considered for the post of viscount. Unfortunately the Amell line was rife with magic but it hadn't happened for generations and was rarely spoken of. Until my mother was born with magic. There was no chance of him becoming viscount after that. No family of good standing wanted to be associated with magic and my parents despaired of ever arranging a good marriage for me." Leandra sighed. "That all changed one day when my father received an offer for my hand from the Comte de Launcet. He was young to his title, his father had just died the year before and he didn't care whether or not our family had magic. My father agreed and a ball was held in the mansion to celebrate our engagement."

"So what happened?" asked Hawke. "How did you meet Father? A runaway mage?"

"He wasn't a runaway then," replied Leandra. "The nobles in those days, despite their fear of magic, envied it too and everyone wanted to outdo everyone else's entertainment at their balls and parties. Father had arranged with the First Enchanter to have mages attend the ball and put on a show of magic as entertainment. Your father was one of those mages."

"Father was in the Circle?" gasped Hawke. "I thought he'd always been an apostate."

"No. He'd been in the Circle since he was ten years old and had never thought to leave it before. I'd never seen anyone so handsome in my life and I couldn't tear my eyes away. The Comte paled into insignificance, I paid more attention to Malcolm Hawke that I ever did to the Comte. It was dangerous and secret, but we found ways to be together. We couldn't bear to be parted, so we decided to elope. Malcolm would escape the Circle and I would leave my family behind."

"I doubt the Circle would just let him leave," said Carver. "Didn't they try and stop him?"

"Oh, they tried, but Malcolm was helped by a templar in his escape. He sent them hunting in the other direction while Malcolm and I raced to the ships to take us far away from here. I never thought I'd be back again without him." Leandra reached into her pocket and sniffled into the handkerchief she brought out. "I miss your father every day. He was a good man and the Maker took him far too soon. Him and Bethany."

Hawke stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder. "We miss them too, Mother, but at least Father will have company now."

Leandra nodded, seeming to take a firm hold of her emotions. "Yes, you're right. Weeping won't bring them back and they wouldn't want us to wallow. Malcolm always made the best of every situation and that's what we have to do in Kirkwall. We may not live in a mansion any more, but we will make the best of things here."

"We will, Mother, we will," agreed Hawke.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

Codex Entry – Templars

Often portrayed as stoic and grim, the Order of Templars was created as the martial arm of the Chantry. Armed with the ability to dispel and resist magic in addition to their formidable combat talents, the templars are uniquely qualified to act as both a foil for apostates - mages who refuse to submit to the authority of the Circle - and a first line of defence against the dark powers of blood mages and abominations.

While mages often resent the templars as symbols of the Chantry's control over magic, the people of Thedas see them as saviours and holy warriors, champions of all that is good, armed with piety enough to protect the world from the ravages of foul magic. In reality, the Chantry's militant arm looks first for skilled warriors with unshakable faith in the Maker, with a flawless moral centre as a secondary concern. Templars must carry out their duty with an emotional distance, and the Order of Templars prefers soldiers with religious fervour and absolute loyalty over paragons of virtue who might question orders when it comes time to make difficult choices.

The templars' power derives from the substance lyrium, a mineral believed to be the raw element of creation. While mages use lyrium in their arcane spells and rituals, templars ingest the primordial mineral to enhance their abilities to resist and dispel magic. Lyrium use is regulated by the Chantry, but some templars suffer from lyrium addiction, the effects of which include paranoia, obsession, and dementia. Templars knowingly submit themselves to this "treatment" in the service of the Order and the Maker.

It is this sense of ruthless piety that most frightens mages when they draw the templars' attention: When the templars are sent to eliminate a possible blood mage, there is no reasoning with them, and if the templars are prepared, the mage's magic is all but useless. Driven by their faith, the templars are one of the most feared and respected forces in Thedas.

--From Patterns Within Form, by Halden, First Enchanter of Starkhaven, 8:80 Blessed.

"I understand you're named after a famous knight?" Fenris asked Aveline when they'd been wandering the bazaar for quite some time and he could no longer stand the silence. He wasn't sure if Aveline was quiet because she didn't like him or because she just didn't want to talk.

"Everyone always brings up the name. As if that is the only thing about me. I'm more than my name."

"I've not heard of Ser Aveline — is she very famous?"

"Really? They don't tell of her glorious downfall in Tevinter?"

"Not to slaves."

"Pardon me for saying so, but thank the Maker for that."

"You do not like your name?"

"No, I've never liked being called that, but it is my name. My father was a knight and I wanted to be one too. The name he chose for me is the only thing I have left of him so even though I don't like it, I will keep it."

"It's a good name," said Fenris. "A strong name. It suits you."

"Thank you." Aveline nodded and smiled at him; the first time he'd ever seen her smile. It must be difficult to be a widow so young.

"I'm sorry about your husband. Ser Weasley sounded like a good man. I never knew templars were allowed to marry."

"Well, it isn't encouraged," replied Aveline. "It's a military and religious order, having a wife and family divides a templar's attention from their duties. Wesley had to get a special dispensation to marry me. I don't know where I'd be if he hadn't." Aveline shook her head. "No, I do know where I'd be. Stuck in a loveless marriage with some Orlesian noble. Wesley and I had been friends since childhood, I knew he wanted to either become a brother in the Chantry or a templar. He was very devout and a month before he was due to take his vows as a brother, Baron Arlange offered for my hand. Do you know much about Orlesian politics?"

Fenris shook his head. "No, not really. Danarius would never discuss such things with a slave."

"Orlesians don't discuss them much with women either. Despite being exiled with my father, I was still considered part of the nobility and as such I had little choice in who I married. That was down to the Empress. She decided which families would make a good alliance and thought I would be good to curb the baron's excesses. He'd had three wives already and there were rumours that he'd murdered them. Nothing proven, of course, but I didn't fancy being wife number four. Wesley offered to marry me instead and instead of becoming a brother he became a templar for me. He couldn't have married me otherwise. His family was noble too, otherwise the Empress wouldn't have agreed. It helped that Wesley's superiors in the Order were amenable to the match as well. They knew I was a soldier too and that Wesley and I would not be spending every moment making eyes at each other."

"But you must have had some time alone," said Fenris.

"No, not really. Wesley was always away on his duties to the templars and the same for me. We were married for three years, but in that time we hardly spent a week together at one time. Wesley was very devout, as I told you. We were married, but we were friends, not lovers. Ours was a chaste marriage. I agreed, but sometimes I regret it. Regret that I never had a child to remind me of him."

Aveline stopped by the weapons merchant and perused some swords, as if she wanted to distance herself from the words now. Perhaps she regretted talking so openly with an elf she didn't really know very well. Fenris paused too, looking over the swords and battle-axes. His own sword was lost in the battle that had almost lost him his life. If it hadn't been for Hawke and his healing... Maybe there were some mages who were worthy of something other than contempt and fear.

The sun was starting to sink below the roof-tops, casting the sky in an orange haze. "Maybe we should be getting back, Hawke will wonder where we got off to," said Aveline, briskly walking away from the weapons vendor. She paused mid-stride as she caught sight of a leaflet pinned to one of the walls. Aveline tore it down. "Listen to this! TAKE BACK OUR STREETS!

Fereldan refugees, Qunari soldiers... Who next? Tevinter slavers snatching children out of their beds?

THIS ENDS NOW!

Send a message that Kirkwallers WILL NOT ACCEPT THIS! We must band together to drive foreign waste from our doorstep. Reclaim the Free Marches FOR THE MARCHERS!

If you care about our future, join the Friends of Kirkwall! Reclaim our city!" Aveline scrunched up the leaflet and threw it in a bin. "They really don't want us here, do they? Maker, Fenris, is this how you feel all the time? Being an elf, I mean?"

"I've never really given the fact that I'm an elf much thought. When I was with Danarius, I considered myself a slave, not an elf. Being an elf was secondary to being a slave."

*

Leandra had made a filling stew, which the three of them ate while they waited for Gamlen, Fenris and Aveline to return. Leandra was very subdued and didn't say much while he and Carver ate their meal, but their mother only picked at hers. When Gamlen returned, he had a couple of neighbours with them, all of them holding blankets, sheets or pillows. It appeared the neighbours were feeling very charitable. Either that or they wanted to have a gander at Gamlen's nephews and sister who had suddenly appeared in Kirkwall. Hawke had the distinct impression that Gamlen had mentioned nothing of his family to these neighbours until today and he needed their help.

Once the bedding was distributed, Leandra made everyone a cup of tea before they left, but there wasn't much conversation. Once everyone else was gone, Leandra and Gamlen started to argue again.

"If I could just see Father's will," said Leandra, almost wringing her hands.

"What happened to love was more important than money?" snarled Gamlen. "And anyway, the will is still locked up in the vaults of the estate and it's out of our hands."

"Who bought the estate? Was it the Reinhardts?"

"It doesn't matter. It's gone and there's nothing we can do about it. Slavers own it now."

"Slavers own Father's estate? He'll be turning in his grave!"

Gamlen slammed his hand down on the table. "Don't you stand there and talk about him as if you even care! You left, you abandoned us! I was the one who was lumbered with looking after a life you gave up. I nursed Father all through the wasting. I cleaned up his vomit, cleaned up his shit and do you know what his final words were? They were all about you! It was as if I didn't even exist! You didn't even come home for the funeral!"

"The twins were a week old, I couldn't travel!"

"A likely excuse!"

Hawke nodded to Carver and they both took some bedding into the next room, leaving brother and sister arguing some more. Hawke was at the stage of exhaustion where he wasn't even sure he'd sleep; it had gone beyond that for him.

Carver pounded on the pillows as if they'd done him some great harm, his face screwed up.

"Couldn't you at least slap on a smile for a few days, for Mother's sake at least?"

"Why?" demanded Carver. "I'm not happy, why should I pretend? I agree with Gamlen, there's no point in stirring everything up and trying to get the will back. What would be the point? The estate's in the hands of slavers now, so even if we had the will, we couldn't live there. We're still a long way from cowing templars with our titles, Brother. Mother's not interested in anything I have to say. She even gave me her old key to the cellars. As if that's going to help anything."

"We could get the slavers out at least," said Hawke. "It was Mother's home, you can see how she'd want it back."

"Lothering was our home! Mother didn't even want that life back until we got dumped here. And you only care because you'll be under templar scrutiny. A title's not going to help. What happens if we get the estate back? We still have no money, no standing. We'll sit around in a draughty mansion that we can't afford to heat and discuss how great the Amells used to be. I'm a Hawke. I'll never be an Amell and neither will you. You're just a refugee like all the rest of us."

"You hating everything I do is really losing its charm." Hawke tucked the blankets under the bunk and shook his head. It wouldn't matter what he said, Carver would disagree with him on principle. The two of them got along like oil and water.

"Sure," said Carver. "Make light of everything. Life's just a joke to you, isn't it? You never take anything seriously. You're the eldest, so she'll always take your side. Mother wants us to follow everything you say."

"That's not true and anyway, I don't see you taking the reins."

"When would I do that? When I'm following you around those times you deign to let me or when I'm looking after Mother while you go off and tame mighty Kirkwall? Besides, we both know what happens when someone leaves dear brother's protection. I'm sure Bethany appreciates you're keeping in good humour."

"That was low, Carver, even for you. You don't need to bring our dead sister into this little pissing match."

"She was my twin! She was part of me!" Carver cried. "And none of you know how that feels. I was left out of everything with Father because I wasn't a mage like Bethany. You three were always sequestered with him as he trained you and as usual I was left looking after Mother. I feel – I don't know – it's like Mother taking things out on us and Gamlen. She was scared. I don't have a place in the life she's trying to bring back." Carver ran his hands through his hair, making it stick out in spikes. "I'm here if you need me, but I have to find my own way. I can't live in your shadow forever."

"I don't expect you to, Carver. You're your own man, you always have been and you always will be. I'm sorry if you feel I've neglected you, that wasn't my intent."

They both heard the front door slam and wondered if Gamlen had stormed off again. Their mother ran into the bedroom. "It's Aveline! She's bleeding!"

Hawke and Carver ran out after her, to see Aveline down on one knee, her face and arm bleeding.

"It's Fenris," said Aveline, gasping for breath. "They took him!"

"Who took him? What happened?" asked Hawke as Leandra fussed with making tea.

"We got lost on the way back, we wandered into a dead alley. They must have been waiting in one of the hovels. Tevinter bounty hunters. We tried to fight them but we were outnumbered and they overran us. One of them knocked me out and when I woke up Fenris and the hunters were gone. Before that, I overheard them say they would take Fenris to Merchant Cavil's mansion and wait for the magister there. We have to save him. How are we going to find this merchant's house?"

"The dwarf, Varric," said Gamlen. "He knows everyone in the city and he's on the Merchant Guild too. He'll know Merchant Cavil. He'll be in the Hanged Man. You must have seen it on the way here."

Hawke nodded, he had seen the tavern. "Thank you, Uncle," said Hawke as he lifted up his staff. "Carver, are you with us?"

Carver picked up his sword. "Hell, yes. We all escaped the Blight together. Fenris is one of us now. They won't get him, not while any of us has breath left."

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

Codex Entry – Hightown

At the height of the Tevinter Imperium's slave trade, Kirkwall's elite prospered beyond dreams of avarice. Hightown was built for the wealthiest slavers, its glitzy mansions rising atop a great wall of rock that borders, on one side, the Waking Sea. Lowtown cowered on its other side until Kirkwall's slaves rose to plunder and destroy Hightown's riches.

Today, Hightown's prominent buildings are the Keep, home to the ruling viscount, and the chantry, home to the grand cleric and the city's religious centre. Both are converted estates that once housed wealthy magisters, rebuilt and converted after the uprising.

—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi

*

It didn't take them long to find the Hanged Man again, it wasn't that far from Gamlen's house. Hawke's heart was hammering against his ribs as they hurried along the street, fear for Fenris uppermost in his mind. What if they were too late? What if the magister had arrived at the merchant's house already and was doing Maker knows what to Fenris?

As he pushed open the door to the tavern, an aroma of stale sweat and vomit drifted out. A man stumbled past him and muttered something that Hawke didn't hear. Their father would have called such an establishment nothing but spit and sawdust. There was indeed plenty of spit on the floor, but no sign of any sawdust to help mop up any blood. The blood was ingrained in the wood of the floor and it was difficult to tell how old or how recent it was, even for a mage.

Hawke scanned the patrons seated at the wooden tables and those standing by the bar, hoping to spot Varric. He hadn't expected the place to be so crowded. Ah, there was Varric, talking to a dark-haired young woman near the back of the room. Hawke and his companions shouldered their way through the crowds to Varric's table.

"Hawke! We were just talking about you. Isabela might be able to put some work your way."

Isabela stood up and it was all Hawke could do not to gape. Hawke had never desired women, but he did admire a good figure on anyone, much like he would admire a painting or a sculpture. Isabela's outfit ensured that her figure was on prominent display for anyone to see. A white tunic sort of dress barely covered her thighs and splits at the side of each leg drew the eye to a sliver of firm legs and buttocks. The tunic was low-cut and Isabela's cleavage was hard to miss, a heavy gold necklace around her neck. Carver was almost drooling but Aveline had her lips pursed in disapproval. Hawke resisted the temptation to giggle with Carver like rude children.

"Thanks," said Hawke, turning back to Varric when Isabela sat down again. "Can we talk about that later? Varric, we need your help. Our friend Fenris has been taken by slavers to Merchant's Cavil's house, but we don't know where that is. We need to find him fast."

"Aye, I know it," said Varric. "Merchant Cavil hasn't been seen for years. His house is derelict and the nobles are always up in arms about it. They think it lowers the tone of the neighbourhood and all that."

"Can you draw me a map or something?"

"I can do better than that, Hawke. I'm coming with you. How about you, Isabela, do you fancy fighting some slavers?"

Isabela clasped her hands across her ample bosom and sighed dramatically. "Oh, Varric, you do know how to show a girl a good time. Count me in, the less slavers in the world the better." Isabela stood up and bowed. "We haven't been introduced properly. Isabela, formerly Captain Isabela but without my ship the title rings a bit hollow."

"You're a pirate?" Aveline asked, her mouth going even narrower.

"It doesn't matter," said Hawke, trying to stop one of Aveline's rants on law and order before things went too far. "What matters is that we rescue Fenris. We can all talk later."

"As if I would have anything in common with her," said Aveline. "We won't need to talk."

"Oh, I don't know," said Isabela, winking. "I'm sure there are a few things I could teach you."

Hawke headed to the door, glancing back to make sure they were following him. They had to battle a few thugs on the way to the Hightown steps, but they made easy work of them and soon they were all on their way to the Hightown Estates.

"So, Isabela," said Carver. "You captained a ship? That's a lot of men to be under your command."

"Ooh, aren't you just adorable, fumbling about for a topic. Like a cute little puppy."

"I'm not a puppy! You say that like I'm harmless. I'm a warrior, you know. I fought in the battle at Ostagar."

"Did you now? I wasn't aware they let children fight. One day you'll grow fangs and sink them into people. For now, I'll just call you Puppy."

"I''d rather you didn't. Sure, keep teasing. I'll show you how much of a pup I am," said Carver, edging ahead of the group so that he was level with Hawke.

"You're out of your depth there, Brother," Hawke said, amused despite the urgency of their mission to rescue Fenris.

"Don't I know it."

Varric stopped in front of a house that seemed to be more rubble than walls. The roof had caved in, the paint was peeling from the walls and what few windows there were were broken. Bats and bird flew in and out from the dilapidated roof. No wonder the other nobles had complained. "This is it, I take it?"

"Yep, that's Merchant Cavil's mansion, or what's left of it. So, these slavers who are after your friend, anything more you can tell us?" asked Varric.

"He's being hunted by his former master, a magister called Danarius."

"A Tevinter magister?" Varric removed his crossbow from his back and held it in front of him. "Nothing to worry about here, then."

"We'll need to be careful. He may have set some magical defences around the place."

"You can handle those, can't you, Hawke?" asked Aveline. "None of us have magic, we might not be able to see magical traps."

"I wasn't thinking of traps. I was thinking of shades, demons, abominations."

"You think he'll have used blood magic?" Carver widened his eyes at his brother.

"Well, he is a magister, so yes, I think he may have used blood magic. We'll need to be on our guard." While Hawke had been speaking, Isabela had been picking the locks and a few moments later the front door swung open.

"We're in," said Isabela, straightening up and rolling her shoulders, which put her cleavage front and centre again. Hawke heard Carver swallow and Aveline narrowed her eyes at the pirate, but she didn't say anything. "Let's go and find your friend."

*

It took them over an hour to clear the house of the shades and demons that a blood mage had conjured. By that time, they'd also discovered the bodies of twenty slavers and Merchant Cavil in a side room. The slavers were recent casualties, but Merchant Cavil had been dead and decomposing for at least a year, if not more. Hawke quickly incinerated all the bodies with a fire spell before any of them gave in to the urge to vomit.

"Why were all the slavers killed?" asked Carver. "Weren't they supposed to be guarding Fenris?"

"Only until the magister got here. I think we're too late. He killed them to get more power for his blood magic. Maybe that was the only way he could subdue Fenris."

"Don't be so pessimistic, Hawke," said Varric, patting him on the small of his back. "We haven't even checked upstairs yet. We may rescue Fenris yet."

Hawke nodded, but he wasn't holding out much hope. If the slavers had been supposed to guard Fenris until the magister got here, didn't that mean that now they were dead that the magister had arrived and probably taken Fenris away with him? Or maybe all they'd find would be Fenris' body. Hawke followed the others to the upstairs rooms. All were empty of anyone, but the middle door was locked and neither Varric nor Isabela could open it with their lock-picks. "I think we're going to need a key for this one, Hawke," said Varric. "Maybe one of the slavers had it."

"And I just incinerated them all," replied Hawke dully. "If there was a key, it's long gone. The rest of you stay back. I'm going to use magic to get in."

"Is that wise?" asked Aveline. "The magister may have set traps to prevent it from being opened magically."

"I have to try! If there's even a chance Fenris is still alive, we have to save him."

The rest of the group nodded and stood well back. Hawke wasn't even sure he knew a spell that might break down a door. Stonefist, maybe? Or Maker's Fist? He closed his eyes, gathering power from the Fade and cast Stonefist on the wooden door. The whole thing splintered and fell off its hinges, landing in the room with a loud thud. Hawke wasn't sure what he was seeing.

Suspended in mid air, in the foetal position was Fenris. His eyes were closed, but Hawke was unsure whether or not he was sleeping or was unconscious. A cage of criss-crossed blue light enclosed him, the light emanating from his markings. Hawke could sense the mana, the light was some sort of physical manifestation of mana, but up until now he would have said that was impossible. Mana was invisible to the naked eye, or it usually was.

The room had once been a bedroom, but the bed was broken in half, the bedclothes torn and tossed aside like rags. In another corner of the room lay a crumpled figure in dark red robes. Was this Danarius, Fenris' former master? Was he the one who'd put Fenris in that strange cage of light? Hawke lifted up his hand to stall the others as he ventured further into the room and knelt down to check for a pulse. Whoever this mage or magister had been, he was now clearly dead, but a more recent death than the merchant's.

"Hawke, what is that?" asked Aveline, tilting her head towards the blue light.

"Well, I know what it feels like," replied Hawke. "It feels like it's some sort of mana field, but it shouldn't be visible to the eye. Mages can usually only sense mana, not see it. But since none of you are mages, it must be something else."

"Something to do with Fenris' markings, maybe?" added Carver. "Maybe you're sensing lyrium rather than mana."

"Maybe. The question is, how do we get him down?"

"I'm no expert, Hawke," said Varric. "But maybe we need to disrupt the field somehow?"

Hawke approached the cage, walking all around it, viewing it from various angles. "Fenris?" he queried and at the same time he reached out with his hand to touch one of the light threads. His hand stopped as soon as it reached the light. The barrier seemed as solid as rock, his hand hadn't affected it at all. For all intents and purposes, it seemed Fenris was encased in something solid.

Everyone else crowded into the room and walked around the cage. Isabela shrugged her shoulders and removed one of the daggers from her back and threw it straight towards one of the light beams. As soon as the metal struck the light, the light disintegrated and Fenris began to plummet towards the floor. Carver was nearest, he ran to the middle of the room and held his arms, ready to catch Fenris as he fell.

Fenris began flailing about, his arms and legs going in all directions as he struggled in Carver's arms. The elf's eyes were open but Hawke didn't think Fenris was seeing what was going on the room. "Fenris, it's all right. It's me, Carver. You're safe now. You're safe." Carver set Fenris gently down on the floor and stood well back. Fenris swayed a little on his feet and then slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. His eyes still darted about the room, but he didn't seem to be seeing them.

"What's wrong with him?" Isabela whispered to Hawke.

"It's a reaction I've seen before," said Hawke. "The mind sometimes finds things so traumatic that the person goes away somewhere inside themselves. Or they sometimes have a flashback of a traumatic event."

"Yes," agreed Aveline. "I've sometimes seen it with soldiers. Sometimes they think they are still involved in a battle, but they are really sitting calmly at home."

"I think that's what's happening here," said Hawke. "He's is probably reliving some past event when he'd been enslaved." Hawke walked over to the wall Fenris was leaning on, but he didn't touch him, remembering all to well Fenris telling him he didn't like being touched. "Fenris, can you hear me? It's Hawke. Do you know where you are?"

For a few moments nothing happened, then Fenris glanced up at Hawke, deep green eyes seeming to clear. "Hawke?"

"Yes, it's me. Aveline and Carver are here too, along with Varric. You haven't met Isabela yet, but she came to help too. Are you injured? Did they hurt you?"

"I am unharmed," said Fenris. "But I feel a little light-headed and there is a weakness in my limbs."

"No wonder! When was the last time you ate? It must have been before we went to Gamlen's house. Does anyone have any food?" asked Hawke.

"I've got an apple," said Varric, reaching into one of the many pockets lining his coat.

"That will do for now," said Hawke, taking the apple and giving it to Fenris. Fenris stared at the shiny red fruit as if he'd never seen one before. "We just need to get your blood sugar up a bit."

"I've never had an apple before," said Fenris in awe. "Slaves were not permitted such luxuries."

Hawke felt his heart break anew for what Fenris had endured. Apples were a staple of many of the poorer folk as in Ferelden they were considered too common an item to be considered a luxury. They were a cheap food, along with potatoes and bread. Fenris munched on the apple and gazed around the room, he looked startled when he saw the body of the dead mage in the corner.

"I always had this image in my head of Danarius being an older man," said Hawke, prodding the body with his foot.

"That isn't Danarius," said Fenris. "That was Cadmus, one of his apprentices. They were always trying to curry favour with him and advance their own positions. I assume Cadmus meant to capture me and bring me to Danarius to gain status over his rivals."

"What happened?" asked Varric.

"He over reached himself. Despite killing all of the bounty hunters he had engaged to fuel his spells with blood magic, it still wasn't enough against my markings. He couldn't defeat me. I am unsure how they work exactly. When the markings activate fully like that, I am no longer here. I seem to go somewhere else but do not know what happens with my physical body. I presume I killed him, but I have no conscious memory of that event."

What Fenris described, it sounded almost like he'd been visiting the Fade, but knowing Fenris' thoughts on mages, Hawke didn't voice his suspicions.

"Now that I have killed one of his pet pupils, Danarius will want to hunt me even more. I am grateful for all that you and your family have done for me, Hawke, but I do not wish to bring danger upon you. It is best if I do not return with you to your uncle's house."

"Where else are you going to go?" demanded Carver, hands on his hips, giving voice to Hawke's own thoughts.

"This house no longer has an owner, perhaps I shall stay here."

"I don't think that's very safe, Fenris," said Aveline. "There were shades and abominations all over the mansion. What if they return and you're here on your own?"

"Not to mention the bats and the pigeons! This place is worse than a pig-sty! It's not habitable," protested Isabela.

"I do not find the idea of staying here pleasant," said Fenris. "But I not wish to bring danger to your doorstep."

"Fenris, I'm an apostate mage, I'm in danger every time I step outside the door. Carver and Aveline are both warriors, they are not strangers to danger either."

"But what about your mother and your uncle? I would not see them come to harm because of me."

"Fenris, if you don't come back home with us, then it's us that'll be in danger from Mother," said Hawke firmly. "So what do you say, back to Gamlen's hovel, is it?"

Fenris smiled softly. "It appears I have no choice."

"Nope, you don't," said Carver.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

Codex Entry: The Tevinter Imperium

For good or ill, the Imperium has put its stamp on Thedas forever.

The old Imperial Highway is still in use across most of Thedas. The ruins of Tevinter fortresses and centres of magical study still litter our landscape, long after the glory of the Imperium dimmed. But the influence of that ancient empire goes deeper than this. Without Tevinter, there would have been no Blights, no Andraste, no Chantry. Every aspect of our world would be altered.

The might and majesty of the Imperium may have faded, but it still makes its presence known, even in the most distant corners of Thedas. Every child has been brought up on stories of Tevinter as it is now: a decadent nation, ruled by the archon and his court of magisters — great, and no doubt corrupt, mage-lords. Their Chantry a mockery of our own, their Black Divine a man chosen from the ranks of the Minrathous Circle of Magi. The Maker's most hallowed law, "Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him," perverted. Mages in the Imperium say their most sacred duty is to serve man, and they serve best by wielding political power.

And the worst, that which Blessed Andraste must weep to see: All of it is built on a foundation of slavery. While most nations forbid the buying and selling of slaves within their own borders, nearly everyone ships her people to the Imperium for sale, skirting the prohibitions against such atrocities, and feeding the Imperium's endless hunger for bodies: To fight the Qunari, to work the mines and quarries, to build the palaces of the magisters, to sweep the crumbling streets and turn the middens and serve at the whim of their mage overseers.

—From Black City, Black Divine: A Study of the Tevinter Imperium, by Sister Petrine, Chantry scholar

*

Fenris had never been to the public bath houses in Tevinter. Slaves were not permitted into those places where free citizens were allowed to gather. As one of the most powerful and richest men in the Senate, Danarius had his own bathing chambers in his manor, but he frequented the public baths as well. There were more deals done in the water than were ever done in the Senate itself. Danarius' bathing chambers were opulent and decadent, lots of marble and gold edging, not to mention the murals on the walls and the rich mosaics on the floor of the pools themselves.

The Mermaid's Pool, in a side street around the back of the Hanged Man, was as unlike the luxurious Tevinter baths as it was possible to get. Crude drawings and graffiti lined the sandy walls and here there were no marble pools decorated with mosaics. Instead, the room had eight wooden tubs, arranged in a semi-circle around a fire pit in the floor. There were no attendants at all, no slaves ready with a warm towel to dry their master. Here, there was a rack of raggedy towels with frayed edges hanging on hooks on the wall.

He and Hawke were the only customers this morning and he'd seen Hawke give the proprietor an extra copper coin to ensure that was the case. Fenris knew Hawke only wanted to give them privacy for Fenris' sake, as he didn't want to get naked in front of strangers and Hawke knew this. Fenris didn't really want to get naked in front of Hawke either, but he felt unsure how to voice it without offending the man.

Hawke and his family had been nothing but welcoming to him and for the past few weeks in Kirkwall, Fenris had gradually allowed himself to mellow a little. Aveline had been accepted for the guard and was living in the barracks now, so there was one less guest at Gamlen's house. Despite Gamlen's constant moaning, Fenris had caught him smiling a few times when the rest of his family wasn't watching. He wanted his family there, despite his complaints to the contrary. Fenris was of the opinion that Gamlen was one of those people who enjoyed moaning and was not really as brusque as he let on.

The last time Fenris had been naked in front of anyone it had been Danarius and despite not wanting his mind to go there, Fenris felt the memories crowd his mind once more.

"Anyone would think you'd never bathed me before, Fenris," said Danarius, standing waist deep in the bathing pool. Fenris was beside him, naked but for a loin cloth covering his groin and a wash cloth in his hand. Danarius' eyes seemed to be glued to the way the water moulded the loincloth to Fenris' thighs and crotch, a hungry gleam as he stared. There were ten guards stationed around the pool, if there hadn't been Fenris might give into the temptation to push Danarius' head under the water and watch him drown. How could Danarius not know how much Fenris hated him? Hated all the vile things Danarius made him do?

"Kneel down, Fenris," commanded Danarius and Fenris felt his breath hitch. Danarius knew that Fenris had a dread fear of water and if he knelt down his head would be totally submerged.

"Please, master, I can't. Please don't make me do that."

Danarius slapped him across the cheek. "How dare you speak to me as if you are an equal! You are nothing but chattel! You only exist because I allow you to! You are mine, slave, and you will do as you are bid! Kneel or you will feel my wrath!" Danarius raised his arms and cast a spell that had Fenris writhing and howling in agony as the spell activated his lyrium markings.

Fenris took a deep breath and knelt in the water, feeling his world dwindling to just this: the agony of the magic upon his flesh and the fear that he would die gasping for breath. He tried to hold his breath for as long as possible, but it was futile. Danarius prised open Fenris' mouth and thrust his member inside, making Fenris gag and swallow water at the same time.

"That's it, Fenris, my little wolf. Such a good whore you are. Look at how you welcome me, you love it all, don't you? You love having my cock inside you. Maybe I'll reward you, maybe I'll let you swallow my seed this time, if you're good."

Fenris couldn't take any more, he choked and spluttered, pulling roughly off Danarius' cock and broke for air, gasping and panting.

Danarius' eyes narrowed. "Not so good after all, slave. Get out of the pool. I didn't want to punish you today, Fenris, but you have given me no choice." Danarius dragged Fenris out by the hair, pulling him up via the steps and hurled Fenris onto the marble floor of the bathing room, Danarius' cock still erect and red. "You have forgotten your place, slave. Kneel in front of me, hands behind your back."

Fenris struggled into position, his leg and shoulder aching where he'd landed so heavily on the marble. "Look at me," Danarius commanded and Fenris knew he had no choice. He was a slave, slaves didn't have choices. What had possessed him to talk back to his master like that? He deserved his punishments.

Danarius tugged at his cock, his face getting puffier by the moment as he sought a climax. He moved closer to Fenris as it drew near and with a loud groan Danarius spilled his seed all over Fenris' face and chest. Fenris could feel it slither down his skin and he wanted to scream, wanted to wipe it off. Despite just coming from the bathing pool Fenris felt soiled and filthy.

"That's your place, slave. Kneeling on the floor, covered in my come. Don't forget it." Danarius knelt before him and trailed his fingers through the mess that covered Fenris. He lifted his fingers to Fenris' mouth. "Suck it."

Fenris shook his head, not wanting Danarius' come anywhere near his mouth. But Danarius gripped Fenris' jaw in one hand and prised his lips apart. Danarius smeared some on Fenris' lips, before thrusting his fingers inside, almost down his throat. Fenris gagged, Danarius hastily removed his fingers as Fenris threw up onto the pristine marble.

"Disgusting, filthy boy. Just for that you will receive no supper tonight."

"Fenris? Are you all right?" asked Hawke.

Fenris blinked, seeing the sand coloured walls of Lowtown, not Danarius' opulent bathing chamber.

"I am fine, thank you."

Hawke nodded, but he didn't seem entirely convinced either.

At the side of each tub, there was a small stool holding soap and a pewter tankard for rinsing. Fenris peered into the murky water and tried not to shudder. "Is it clean?"

"It will be," said Hawke, raising his arms and casting. Fenris felt his markings tingle, but it wasn't painful, not like if Hawke had cast on him, rather than in his vicinity. "It's a sterilisation spell." Hawke turned around to undress, as if he guessed instinctively that Fenris also wanted privacy, even though he had not mentioned the fact out loud. Hawke seemed that rare sort of man who was attune to other's feelings. Fenris didn't know if it was because Hawke was a mage or if it was just one of those quirks that humans had.

Each of them settled into their tubs and began their wash, the only sounds the splash of the water, the hiss and crackle of the fire pit and their breathing. It should have been relaxing, but for Fenris it wasn't. He was too aware of his nakedness and the proximity of another naked male close by. He sat hunched over in the tub, trying to hide as much of himself as possible as he bathed.

"Fenris?" Hawke queried softly.

"Yes?" Fenris gripped the wash cloth in white knuckled hands and didn't look at Hawke. He was afraid of what he might see in the mage's face. Would there be a hunger there? A desire, the way Danarius had looked at him?

"I'm sorry, it's none of my business. I just wondered how you'd escaped from the magister. I've heard that blood mages can be very powerful."

"They are," Fenris said. "But Danarius didn't really have a choice. You've heard of Seheron?"

"That's somewhere in the north, isn't it?"

"Yes. The island itself is a tropical paradise. Lush rainforests, waterfalls and white sandy beaches. The Qunari and the Imperium have fought over the island for centuries now. It's the strategic importance they're after, I don't think they would be that bothered whether or not it was pretty." Fenris risked a glance over and was pleased to see Hawke grinning, nothing of the hunger that had been in Danarius' every gaze.

"I can't really imagine the Qunari being being pleased with something because it was beautiful."

"I was on Seheron with Danarius when there was a Qunari attack. It was brutal. Lots of his slaves and warriors died that day. It was difficult to get back to the port, but eventually Danarius, a few apprentices and a couple of his warriors managed to get to the ship. I was left behind."

"What? He just left you there to face the Qunari on your own?"

"There wasn't room on the ship for a slave. It wasn't Danarius' choice to leave me, but he had to nonetheless. The look on his face as the ship pulled away from the dock was priceless."

"What happened?" asked Hawke, turning and leaning his elbows on the side of the tub.

"I was wounded in the battles with the Qunari and I lost a lot of blood. I thought that I would die there on Seheron and in a way I welcomed the thought. If I was dead I would no longer be a slave, I would no longer be Danarius' pet warrior. There are rebels in the jungles and forests, Fog Warriors. They found me, took me in and nursed me back to health."

"Fog Warriors? Aren't they Qunari too?"

"No, they are Kossith, the same race as most of those who are Qunari. But the Qunari aren't a race, they are a religion. The Fog Warriors didn't follow the Qun and so are not considered Qunari. They are not even considered Tal-Vashoth, but something outside the Qun. They had their own ways, their own customs. I was in awe of them. Most of the Kossith converted to the Qun, but these Fog Warriors lived in isolation and still followed their old ways, the ways of their older gods. They did not understand slavery, they never even had a word for it in their language. For six months I lived with them, I lived as one of them for they had seen me fight and took me hunting with their tribes. I was an honoured guest and eventually I came to believe that there I could live free. I should have known it was too good to be true."

"Danarius returned for you?" Hawke guessed.

Fenris nodded. "He did, but they refused to let him take me. So he ordered me to kill them and I did. I killed them all, down to the last child." Fenris couldn't look Hawke in the eye as he said it. "They didn't cry or scream, they accepted death with such stoicism."

"What? Why would you do such a thing?" There was no censure in Hawke's voice, just genuine curiosity.

"It is difficult to explain a slave's mindset to someone who has never been one. Being a slave was all I could ever remember being. A slave did not think of freedom or escape. A slave thought only of their master's pleasure and what the next hour would bring. My master had returned, he had given me an order and I obeyed as I had done so many times before. But when I looked down at their bodies, at the blood that littered the forest floor – I couldn't – I ran as far as my legs could take me. I had no idea where I was going, just that I needed to flee."

"Didn't Danarius come after you again?"

"He couldn't, not straightaway. The Fog Warriors had wounded him as he tried to take me forcibly from them and it was three weeks before he was able to mount the hunt in earnest. By that time I had stowed aboard a ship bound for the mainland. I knew I had to get out of Tevinter as soon as possible, for it would be obvious to anyone that I was an escaped slave there. I spent some time in Orlais and Ferelden before the Blight struck and I had to run again."

"You've had a difficult life, Fenris. It mustn't be easy to talk about."

"I'd rather not speak more of it."

"You can talk to me any time," said Hawke. "I'll always be willing to listen."

"To my whining? Very charitable of you. But no, I've said enough on the matter. What about you? Have you ever thought of returning to Ferelden?"

"I've thought about it, but my home's here now. My mother's family was from Kirkwall, our heritage is here, even if we aren't exactly nobles any longer."

"What happened that they lost their position?"

"Well, Uncle Gamlen gambled away the family fortune and lost the estate. But they were in trouble even before that. My father was a Circle Mage here; he eloped with my mother when they fell in love. They loved each other very much and we were a happy family, even if we did have to move every few months to avoid the templars."

"I bet the nobles in Hightown had a field day with that news. In Tevinter it is the same. It seems the nobles do little else but gossip and hold parties so they can gossip even more. They have no substance."

"So true. What about you? Do you intend to stay in Kirkwall?"

"It's as good a place as any, I haven't quite decided. I would return to Seheron if I could... but there is no life for me there. Just regrets."

"Do you think Seheron was where you're from originally?"

"So I've been told. I don't remember anything before I received these markings."

"What about Danarius? Do you know where he is now? Can you track him down?"

"I expect he has returned to his home city of Minrathous, though I dare not go near him there. Too many magisters in the city to support him. No, it is better to wait for him to leave his fortress and fight him away from his home ground. I do not expect your help when that day comes, Hawke, but I wouldn't turn it aside."

"We're not going to let you face a Tevinter magister on your own, Fenris! You have my help, and gladly. How long has it been since you escaped?"

"About three years now. Danarius has a way of tracking me down, perhaps it is the markings? Whatever the means, it never takes him long to follow. This is the first time I've given him reason to pause. I suppose there are advantages in numbers."

"You've been alone all this time? Haven't you sought help before now?"

"Hirelings when I could steal the coin. Never anyone of substance - until you. Danarius will never give up hunting me."

"What if he does give up? What then?"

"Then I will have no option but to seek him out. I will not live with a wolf at my back any longer. I'm finished running from him."

"Good plan, and this time you won't be alone. You have friends now, Fenris. You won't be alone ever again."

"Thank you, Hawke. I must thank you again for all you and your family have done for me. I won't forget it. Things with Danarius – it is difficult for me to trust, but you seem a good man, Hawke."

Hawke grinned. "Are you trying to flatter me?"

"Maybe," Fenris said with a shy smile. "But I think we should get out before we both turn into prunes."

"I suppose you're right," said Hawke. "And we promised to meet Varric at the Hanged Man this morning. Hopefully he'll have a bit more work for us."

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

Codex Entry: Viscount Marlowe Dumar

What happened to Viscount Perrin Threnhold was a travesty. I served in the Keep, and my blood boils when I hear people call him a tyrant. He was a good man who tried his best to free Kirkwall from the control of those who use power for their own purposes. It's always been that way here, hasn't it? Long ago it was the Imperium. Then it was the Qunari, then the Orlesians, now the templars... when have we ever ruled ourselves? He tried to kick those templar bastards out and give us real freedom, and what did it get him?

Now the Chantry has chosen Lord Marlowe Dumar as his replacement. After weeks and weeks of arguing, after telling the nobility that they would be choosing their viscount, after everyone saying it was time to use a new title—why not "king"? Why keep using the name imposed by the Orlesians? And after all that, the Chantry chose him. I suppose I can see why—everyone thinks he has the spine of a jellyfish, and it does seem that way.

Truly, he has the templars on one side, the nobility on the other, and everyone expects him to solve all their problems—yet he has no power to actually accomplish it. He keeps the peace as best he can, and I think he does a good job even if no one else does. And he loves that sad little boy. I see the way young Saemus looks at his father, and I feel for him. Locked up in the Keep with no other children, watching his father be put down by every self-important windbag that walks into the great hall... it makes me miss the days of Perrin Threnhold, even if they were chaotic. We can only hope that one day Saemus gives this city the legacy it deserves.

—Excerpt from a letter by an unknown servant, found in the Gallows vaults 9:28 Dragon

*

"Hawke!" Varric greeted him as soon as they entered the Hanged Man and he and Fenris made their way over to what Hawke was rapidly coming to think of as Varric's table. It was close to the fire, and the wall, so that Varric could see the whole room from where he sat. Hawke too didn't like sitting with his back to the patrons and he snagged the chair next to Varric's. Isabela was ordering at the bar but glanced over and gave them all a nod. Next to Varric's elbow were a pile of rolled-up scrolls and on the other side a tankard of ale. "Can I get you anything, Hawke, Fenris? Have you had breakfast yet?"

Hawke laughed and even Fenris smiled. "Varric, do you really think my mother would let any of us out of the house before we had breakfast?"

"Good point, how about some ale then?"

Hawke and Fenris both shook their heads. "A bit early in the day for me, Varric," said Hawke.

"And me," added Fenris.

Varric nodded and sorted through his scrolls. "I might have a job for us, a bit more pay than the lost and founds we've been doing. The Viscount's son is missing, thought abducted by Qunari. Should be a fair bit of coin in that, the Viscount is offering a generous bounty."

"How generous?" asked Hawke. They'd done a few jobs with Varric before, mainly reuniting citizens with their lost items or pets. Occasionally they got a few silver, but normally it was only a few coppers. They needed something that paid a bit more if they were ever to get the Deep Roads expedition off the ground.

"The bounty poster didn't say, we have to speak to Seneschal Bran at the castle for more details. I took down all the posters I could find, but we may already have some competition from people who might have seen them already."

"If he really has been abducted, I suppose we'd better see Bran sooner rather than later," said Isabela as she returned from the bar with an even larger tankard than Varric's.

"No Puppy today?" asked Isabela, scanning the room as if to make sure the clientele weren't hiding Carver somewhere.

"Carver said he would meet us here," said Fenris, glancing round as the door opened and Carver strolled in, puffing out his chest and putting on a swagger as he spotted Isabela. Hawke didn't think Carver stood a chance with Isabela but he couldn't fault his brother for trying. Carver pulled over an old barrel to use as a stool and sat down with the rest of them.

"I saw you in the Blooming Rose the other night, Puppy," said Isabela, giving Carver a saucy wink and a smile.

"You must be mistaken," Carver said, shaking his head.

"Really? Was it some foul magister who shape-changed into you and stole into the Rose to romance Faith?"

Carver laughed. "Now I know you're making it up. Faith isn't even working this week."

"Got you," said Isabela, smiling again.

"Oh ho! Nicely done, Rivaini," said Varric.

"Carver, what would Mother say?" Hawke tried and failed not to chuckle. Carver's face had taken on a purplish tinge with all the teasing he was getting.

"You're just jealous. That's not what – shit!" Carver hung his head before settling his attention elsewhere, on Fenris this time. Hawke thought Carver had a wee bit of hero-worship going on with Fenris, for Carver valued warriors very highly, especially ones who were as skilled as Fenris.

"I've got a tattoo as well, Fenris," said Carver and Hawke dearly hoped his brother wasn't about to remove his shirt to show everyone.

"You have a what?"

"A tattoo. A lot of us got them just before Ostagar. It's a mabari, for strength."

"For the hundredth time they aren't tattoos! Does your tattoo allow you to reach into a man's chest and tear out his insides?"

"Er, no," Carver replied, blushing even more now. "I can make it bark, though."

"Really? I'd pay to see that," said Varric, his eyes lighting up and Hawke could just imagine this conversation making its way into one of Varric's friend-fictions.

"I'd rather see it wag its tail," said Isabela.

"I don't think it would be its tail you would be interested in," snapped Fenris.

"Don't encourage him," said Hawke, placing his fingers at the edge of his nose and trying to stave off a headache. "Haven't we got a Viscount's son to rescue?"

*

In Hightown, you couldn't miss the Keep. It towered over every other building, all grey stone and harsh lines. There weren't even a few shrubs or flowers dotted around the front to soften the edges. Varric said there were extensive gardens round the back, but they were private and the public never got to see them. Guards patrolled up and down the Viscount's Way, and with the listless way they were walking, Hawke thought they seemed bored stiff. He would be too if he had to walk up and down the same stretch for hours on end.

"I've only ever been in by the Guard's entrance," said Hawke. "Are you sure it's all right for us to saunter in the front door?" None of their rag-tag group could ever be mistaken for the cream of Hightown nobility, that was for sure. Hawke felt under dressed just walking along the Viscount's Way, never mind going into the Keep.

"Of course," said Varric. "Seneschal Bran will be near the Viscount's offices, and so that's where we need to be too. Nothing on the bounty poster said we weren't allowed to use the front door." Varric marched on ahead and Hawke grinned to himself. Varric could move quickly for someone having such short legs. Once inside, Varric seemed to know where he was going and marched them up the main stairs, veering off to the left staircase on the landing.

They saw Seneschal Bran talking to a woman geared with knives and armour, deep in some sort of argument. Bran had bright red hair, almost as red as Aveline's, but the smattering of hairs on his chin were black. There weren't even enough hairs to call it a beard.

"Insist if you must, but Viscount Dumar will see no one. If you have news of Saemus, relay it to me and I will tell him."

"Fine. Tell Dumar my scouts have tracked the boy and his Qunari captor to the Wounded Coast. I'm taking a full company after them, and when I return I expect him to make a show of the reward." The woman folded her arms across her chest and scowled. Hawke resisted the temptation to tell her if the wind changed her face might stay like that. It was one of his mother's favourite sayings along with you can't pull the feathers off a frog. Hawke had no idea what it meant but as a child it always sounded funny and Leandra would use it when Hawke was sulking to take him out of his mood. It never failed to raise a smile.

"So many to deal with one Qunari seems... excessive," said Bran, curling his lip.

"They may be Tal-Vashoth. I'm not taking any chances. I can't very well claim the reward if me and my men are dead. The Winters leave nothing to chance." The woman turned and strode past them on the stairs, shouldering Hawke aside and grunting, "Get out of my bloody way!" But she offered no apology.

"Yes?" Bran's attention turned to them, folding his arms across his chest and failing to hide his disdain.

"It seems like we weren't the only ones to see the bounty posting," said Hawke

"Apparently so, and I am regretting it. As I told the others, Viscount Dumar's son, Saemus, is missing. We suspect he was taking by a Qunari. If you would like to try your hand at securing his safe return, feel free. I have certainly granted no exclusivity to the Winters and their violent approach."

"There must be suspicions about why the boy went missing."

"Why? What have you heard?" asked Bran suspiciously

"Nothing. Until just now," replied Hawke.

"There is truly nothing more known. He is gone and there have been sightings of a Qunari. The only complication is that Saemus it known to be of... a sympathetic mind. He may have placed himself in danger, but it is danger nonetheless."

"The Qunari in the city are not Tal-Vashoth. Their Arishok would not stand for such a thing. Appeal to him for the boy's return," said Fenris.

"You've had dealings with Qunari?" Bran asked, looking at Fenris as if he was something foul he wouldn't want to find on his shiny court shoes. Hawke felt himself bristling at the slight on his friend.

"I have."

"It doesn't matter. We have already appealed to the Arishok and he has declared that it is not his role to interfere in this. Apparently their rebels, the Tal-Vashoth, are hunted anyway, killed for what they are, not for what they may have done. It does not bode well for Saemus."

"This isn't a task for a guardsman?" asked Hawke, wondering why Aveline had never mentioned it.

"Who cares?" said Carver, shrugging his shoulders. "We need this job."

"There is a concern of appearance," said Bran. "If we used guards, it would allow Viscount Dumar's opponents to say that he admits to the Qunari threat, because the city responded. In these times, public embarrassment is preferable to official embarrassment."

"And who was that woman you were having such a chat with?" asked Hawke

"She is one of the Winters, a mercenary troupe out of Nevarra. They don't care whether or not Saemus is returned unharmed. As if the Viscount would pay anything for the return of his son's body. That was their leader, Serah Ginnis and she is hungry for a foothold in Kirkwall. And frankly, we have enough of their kind already."

Hawke knew it was a dig at him and his companions but he didn't rise to the bait. He'd taken on an ogre and lived. The likes of Seneschal Bran held no fear for him.

"Ready the reward, we'll get Saemus back, never fear," said Hawke.

"Declare it if you must, but the reward goes to whoever brings him back safe."

Hawke nodded and they headed off, Hawke leading them to the Barracks, he needed a little chat with Aveline.

Because of the city's layout and all the steps, horses weren't much use in the city and the guards patrolled on foot most of the time. But sometimes they needed to venture further outside the city and so they had a set of stables a mile outside the walls. If Saemus had indeed been abducted, then time was of the essence and riding to the Wounded Coast would be lot quicker than walking.

"Aveline!" said Hawke, raising his arms and smiling broadly. "And how's my favourite guard today?"

"Suspicious." Aveline narrowed her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. "What are you after? You only ever visit me at the Barracks when you want something."

"What? I can't just come and greet a friend?"

"Is that why you're here, Hawke? To greet a friend?"

"Er, no. I was wondering if you could do us a little favour. We're going to be searching for Saemus on the Wounded Coast and I wondered if perhaps you could let us borrow some of the horses from the stables outside town."

"Well, wonder no more, Hawke. The answer is no. I don't have the power to requisition horses for guardsmen, never mind civilians. Only Captain Jeven can do that and he's been in a foul mood all week. There's no point even asking him."

"Come on, Aveline. Can't you just sign some papers, maybe pretend that Captain Jeven said it was all okay?"

"I said no, Hawke! I can't believe you even asked me that! You know how much this job means to me and you want me to forge documents?"

"It would be just a little white lie, Aveline," said Varric. "The sooner the Viscount's son is found, the better, wouldn't you agree? The Viscount wouldn't mind us borrowing some horses, would he, if we got his son back safe?"

Aveline sighed. "It would help you reach the Wounded Coast that bit faster. All right, I'll let you have some horses, but you have to agree to help me in return."

"What do you need, Aveline?" asked Hawke.

"That can wait until the Viscount's son is returned safe and sound, but I have your promise that you'll help?"

"Definitely. We're always ready to help a friend in need," said Isabela.

Aveline glowered at the pirate. "I didn’t say I needed your help. And the last time I checked, we weren't friends." Aveline went into one of the side rooms and returned with a scroll of parchment in her hands. "Have any of you ever ridden before?"

"We used to ride donkeys in Lothering when we were children," said Carver.

"It's not really the same," said Aveline.

"I have ridden horses," said Fenris. "But it's been a long while since I last did so."

"What about you, Varric?"

"Naw, horses and dwarfs don't really mix. There aren't that much call for them in Orzammar and surface dwarves still take that stance."

"I've ridden," piped in Isabela.

"Have you? Why doesn't that surprise me? All right," said Aveline. "Since there are only two experienced riders among you, I can let you have three horses. Each experienced rider should take the less experienced rider with them. Hawke, you and Fenris can ride together. Varric, you'll be with me, that leaves Isabela and Carver together."

"I thought the Viscount didn't want the guard involved?" asked Hawke.

"Not officially. I'll change out of my uniform, but I am not letting you lot loose with valuable horses. From the scrapes you get into I wouldn't be surprised if the horses ended up in the water and drowned. And then who would be left to explain everything? No, I'm coming with you, officially or not."

"Welcome aboard our merry troupe, Aveline," said Hawke, grinning.

"Let's see if you're still grinning after we've been riding for hours and you get saddle-sore. There won't be so many smiles then, I guarantee it."

"Want to take a bet on that?" asked Hawke.

"No," said Aveline and Hawke expected her to launch into a tirade against gambling, but Aveline just smiled. "I don't want to steal your hard earned coin. There's not much point gambling on a certainty."

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

Codex Entry: The Wounded Coast

One of the few roads leading into Kirkwall passes through a dangerous area known as the Wounded Coast. The road winds close to the cliff edge that looms over waters with many a precipitous drop to the churning waves below. There's many a local legend involving travellers falling, or jumping, or having been flung from those heights.

From the cliffs, the road leads through jagged hills that line the pass like sharp teeth. Bandits use these hills as cover from which to ambush caravans. There's more to fear here than bandits, of course. Once one leaves the hills, you come upon a maze of sharp canyons, the hunting grounds for many fierce creatures. It is a place of secrets dating back to the golden age of the Tevinter Imperium, where Ancient relics and statues crumble in time with the rocks.

—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi

*

After an hour in the saddle it soon became clear that being saddle-sore wasn't going to be Hawke's only problem. The swaying of the horse, the occasional bounce as it trotted along gave him a delightful fluttering in his groin and belly. Riding behind Fenris, with his arms wrapped around Fenris' waist wasn't helping things either. Hawke had always appreciated a well-built man and despite being slight of build, Fenris was all firm muscles under Hawke's hands. Hawke could smell Fenris' hair, fresh from their baths that morning, but underlying the freshness was a muskier, earthier scent that had Hawke's head reeling.

He tried to move back a bit on the horse, so that if he did get an erection, he wouldn't be pressing it up against Fenris' back. "Hawke, desist with your squirming," commanded Fenris. "You need to be safe. Hold your arms tighter around me."

What did it say about Hawke that his cock twitched on hearing Fenris want him to be safe? He tried not to think about it, tried not to think of how close they were to each other. It wasn't right, was it? To think of a friend like that? Fenris had given no indication that he thought of Hawke as something other than a friend and Hawke tried to rein in his raging hormones. He felt like an adolescent on the cusp of manhood rather than the fully grown man he was. Fenris could reduce him to a gibbering mess just by smiling at him. Fenris' smiles were rare and so were all the more precious.

They'd been travelling for almost an hour when they heard screams in the distance. Aveline spurred her horse ahead, leaving Isabela and Fenris no choice but to do the same with theirs. As their horse raced along the coastal path, Hawke held onto Fenris' waist for dear life and wondered what madness had possessed him to ask for the loan of these beasts in the first place. The ground rushed past them with alarming speed and air whistled past his ears, making his ears and head ache. Ahead on the path they were confronted with a group of giant spiders attacking a dwarf and what could only be his guards. Or what used to be his guards; most of them were lying on the ground, limbs parted from their bodies or faces crushed beyond recognition.

Aveline dismounted and helped Varric down, before going elbow deep into the fray, her sword and shield flashing as she hacked at the spiders. Fenris got off their horse with all the grace of a dancer and held out his hand to help Hawke down before Fenris too went in to help Aveline. Hawke took a step and almost stumbled, his legs not working properly after being unused to sitting aside a horse. The dwarf would be in no danger from his magic, but some of the guards were still alive, not to mention Aveline, Fenris, Isabela and Carver, all now fighting too. Hawke would have to rely on spells that would only hit one spider at a time. He cast Winter Blast on the one nearest to Fenris, who quickly dispatched it by beheading it with his two-handed sword.

"Grab something sharp and pointy! We've got company!" snarled Varric loading his crossbow. He and Hawke attacked from a distance while the others attacked the spiders directly and it wasn't long before all the spiders were done for, everyone who'd battled in such close-range covered in blood and gore from head to toe. The stench was appalling and Hawke had to breathe deeply to stop himself from throwing up. "Out of your element, dwarf?" asked Hawke as he approached.

The dwarf chuckled and nodded to his remaining guards. "This lot couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery. You lot, though, you seem to know your way around a blade or two. I might have a business proposition for you, if you're interested."

"How much does it pay?" asked Carver, before anyone else had a chance to answer.

"That all depends on the Qunari," said the dwarf. He bowed, one hand over his waist. "But where are my manners? Javaris Tintop, merchant and entrepreneur. I've been in Kirkwall trying to court the Qunari."

"Court the Qunari?" said Varric. "Maker, think of the children."

"No, no, I mean for business. The Qunari have this explosive powder. It's just a black dust, no magic, no lyrium. No demons. Anyone can use it."

"And what do you intend to do with this explosive powder?" demanded Aveline. "I am a member of the Kirkwall City Guard and I will not countenance any disregard for the law."

"I'm not doing anything illegal," protested Javaris. "I'm a merchant. I just want to acquire some at a good price and then sell it on. What people do with it after that is their own business."

Aveline frowned, but there wasn't anything she could do. As far as Hawke knew selling an explosive powder wasn't illegal, even though he'd never heard of such a thing as explosive powder before.

"And the Qunari just offered this to you?" asked Hawke. "They wanted to sell the powder?"

"Well, that's the problem, see. They wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't even open negotiations with me. Said I wasn't worthy. Said that they are not merchants and that only their outcasts, the Tal-Vashoth were that mercenary, who would do things for coin. So I figured, maybe if I get rid of something the Arishok hates more than – well – me."

"The Tal-Vashoth," said Hawke, nodding his head.

The dwarf glanced down at his fallen men and the only two left standing. "Telling the Arishok that I'll go talk to them didn't go down very well. You can't get a decent blade at a bargain any more. But as you can see, my help has dwindled. Would you be interested in getting the bounty for felling the Tal-Vashoth?"

"We would," said Carver.

"I am not sure this is wise," said Fenris. "The Tal-Vasoth are outcasts, this is true, but they are not outside the Qun. The Arishok may not thank us for killing them. We must tread carefully."

"They're outlaws," said Javaris. "And the Arishok hinted strongly that he wanted rid of them."

"Hinted strongly?" said Fenris, shaking his head. "The Qunari would not hint at anything. They would tell you outright whether or not they wanted something done. So tell me, Master Tintop, did the Arishok specifically say that he wanted the Tal-Vashoth hunted?"

"Well, no, but I assumed he would. The Qunari in the city have been peaceful for the most part, but there have been rumblings that the Tal-Vashoth are attacking caravans along the Wounded Coast, making it unsafe for travellers. The Viscount has complained to the Arishok about these Tal-Vashoth, but they do not accept his leadership so there is nothing he can do."

"If they are indeed attacking travellers, then it is my duty as a guard to hunt them," said Aveline. "But as Fenris says, we shouldn't rely on a reward from the Arishok."

"But once I have the explosive powder available for sale, I can give you a percentage of the profits," said Jarvaris. "Bringing the Tal-Vashoth heads to the Arishok would be a bonus."

"You know little of Qunari customs," said Fenris. "Bringing the head of Tal-Vashoth to the Arishok would mean little. The body is just a shell to them."

"All right, Javaris. We'll hunt down these Tal-Vashoth, for a price," said Hawke. "I'm not relying on you finding a buyer for this powder. But we can't hunt them right now, we're looking for the Viscount's son."

Javaris threw his hands in the air. "All right, all right. I'll be at the Qunari compound every day this week at twelve bells. Meet me there when you've finally routed the Tal-Vashoth and you will get your coin."

"It's a deal," said Hawke, trying to ignore Aveline's eyes boring into his back.

*

They found Saemus in a small cove, kneeling on the sand, the mercenary Ginnis standing over him, a Qunari dead on the ground beside them. "And the world's rid of one more Qunari," said Ginnis, wiping her blade on her trousers. "Easier than I expected. Call the men back, we have an appointment with the Viscount. Isn't that right, Saemus?"

"You killed him! Ashaad! You murdered him, you Vashedan bitch!"

"Is that one of their words? See? That's why you need to be dragged home. You've been playing too nicely with those things. I wager you've gone even further than that. Is that how it was, Saemus? Were you his little human fucktoy?"

"Don't you dare speak of him! You aren't worthy to shine his shoes never mind anything else!"

"A bit heavy-handed for a rescue, don't you think?" asked Hawke as he and the others rode up. "It sounds like he doesn't want to go with you." They all dismounted, Varric and Isabela tying up the horses.

"Competition?" sneered Ginnis. "Well, you're too late. The Winters and I have already claimed him."

"Serah," said Saemus. "If I must go back, I must, but I will not see these murderers rewarded."

"You little shit! I'll cut out your tongue and charge extra for bringing you back quiet! And as for you we could do with some entertainment while we wait for the others."

That was all the warning they had before Ginnis and her cohorts attacked. Hawke remembered little of the fight except that it seemed to drag on for an eternity, mercenaries appearing from behind dunes and bushes, as if the ground itself was vomiting them up. But the fight finished at last, all of them covered in blood again after they'd cleaned up after the spiders. Saemus looked white, the paleness of his flesh standing out against his dark hair. "Oh, Maker! I've never seen so much blood! So many corpses!" He swayed on his feet but Aveline was there to catch him as he fainted and she set him down on the sand.

Varric and Isabela hunted through the bodies for any money, suitable weapons or items they could sell on, earning a disapproving frown from Aveline. At first Hawke too had balked at rummaging through dead men's pockets but he knew if they'd been the ones lying dead, then the mercenaries would have no qualms about searching their corpses. It was all part of the jobs they did, but still, somewhere deep down it didn't feel quite right. But beggars couldn't be choosers and they needed coin, however distasteful the means of acquiring it might be.

Hawke knelt down next to Aveline and scanned Saemus, just to make sure it was nothing worse than a faint that held the young man unconscious. Saemus' eyelids fluttered and he stared up at Aveline and Hawke as if he'd never seen them before. Aveline helped him sit up and Saemus glanced over her shoulder. "Ashaad! It wasn't a dream, then? He's really dead?"

"I'm afraid so," said Hawke, handing over his water skin so Saemus could have a drink of water. They boy sipped it and wiped his hand across his mouth. "Thank you, serah. Ashaad never lied, never coddled. You were worth his time or you were not. They are not the brutes others claim they are. Please, take me to my father and I will try again to make him see."

"It's clear that this was not your first encounter with this Ashaad."

"I met him soon after their ship foundered. I had run again, to escape the Keep and my father. Ashaad was to map the coast. To find an answer for the Arishok. I had so many doubts. Qunari have none."

"Do we bury him?" asked Hawke. "I am unsure of their rites."

"The body is no longer him. It deserved no special treatment. That is, apparently, their way."

"Should his people be told?"

"They will already know. Whether they will deign to acknowledge it is another matter. There was much of Ashaad that I didn't understand, but it was so very worth trying."

"Still, an odd friend to have."

"Friend is perhaps the wrong word," said Saemus. "He tolerated me and my questions, but I am unsure if I ever really got to know him."

"Let's get you back to you father," said Hawke. "He is beside himself with worry."

"Is he?" snapped Saemus, glancing around at the corpses. "And yet he sends thugs to do a father's job? I am sorry, I mean no disrespect to you, serah. Being a mercenary is a job like any other, I suppose."

*

Once the horses were returned to the stables and Saemus safely returned to his father, Hawke and Fenris found themselves wandering through Hightown's market, earning mutters of disapproval from outraged nobles. "I love the way the merchant's glare at me, as if I am going to steal something," said Fenris. Carver had ventured once more to the Blooming Rose, no doubt looking for Faith again and Varric and Isabela had returned to the Hanged Man. Aveline had returned to the Barracks but agreed to meet at Varric's suite in the Hanged Man after her shift, at eight bells that evening, to discuss the help she wanted.

Hawke supposed he and Fenris could return to Gamlen's house, but Hawke was feeling a bit out of sorts and didn't want to be cooped up indoors for the moment.

"Hawke, is something troubling you?" Fenris asked softly as Hawke perused the robes on offer at Jean-Luc's market stall. Too much velvet and fur trim for his liking. Not that he could afford Hightown prices anyway.

"Is it that obvious?" Hawke tried a smile but he feared it might have appeared as a grimace.

"You are not usually this quiet. If you do not wish to speak of it, then I am sorry for intruding."

"You're not intruding," said Hawke. "It's just something Saemus said. About being a mercenary. Is that what we are? We kill people for coin and loot. I'm a healer, Fenris, or I was. I never thought I'd have to kill anyone. Darkspawn were different, somehow. You knew it was either kill or be killed."

"Danarius often ordered me to kill, for no other reason than to show the other magisters that I would obey his bidding, no matter what it was. More often than not, it was another slave, someone unarmed and unable to protect themselves and yet I still killed them. I cannot say it gets any easier, because I carry those deaths with me. But you, Hawke, the people you have killed have one thing in common, they all attacked us and it was indeed a case of kill or be killed. I can understand why a healer feels their deaths more than a warrior or a soldier, say. Life is survival of the fittest, Hawke. We live in violent times where you can be killed for the few coppers you might be carrying. Mourn their deaths if you must, but don't let them define you. Think of all the good you have done and will do. You are a healer, Hawke. Let that define you."

"Thank you, Fenris. That helped a lot."

Fenris smiled at him, his fringe flopping over his eyes. "That is what friends do, is it not?"

"Just friends?" asked Hawke and then froze. It had just slipped out and he couldn't take it back. Now he had ruined everything between them.

"You're a handsome man, Hawke, you flatter me, but I cannot. My first memory is of these markings being branded into my flesh. The agony wiped away everything, everything of my life before. Whatever life I had before I became a slave, it's lost. If I had a home, a family, they have been taken from me. And the life I led as a slave is not one I wish to revisit. Since I escaped, I have not allowed anyone to come too close."

"Is it the markings?" asked Hawke. "Do they still cause you pain after all this time?"

"The pain has diminished over time but it has not gone completely. But that is not the issue. Please, Hawke, do not ask me to speak more of this."

"I'm sorry, Fenris. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories for you. Are we still friends?"

"Yes, Hawke. I consider you my friend, but that is all I can ever be. I am sorry."

Chapter Text

Codex: House Tethras

House Tethras was a dwarven noble house which was exiled from Orzammar in 8:98 Blessed.

Paragon Garen who was also a King of Orzammar, lived in the early Exalted Age. His son, Tethras, was exiled into the Deep Roads for murdering his sister however it was eventually found that the Carta was in fact responsible, so Garen started sending numerous units of the Legion of the Dead in search of his son. This wasn't successful however and as a tribute to his son, the members of House Garen took the name Tethras after him. Eventually one of these members became a Paragon on his own right and founded the noble House Tethras.

The house has repeatedly risen to prominence as three of its members have held the office of Assembly Steward. However in the second year of the reign of King Endrin Aeducan, Lord Andvar Tethras was found to be fixing Provings and for his affront he was exiled to the surface along with the rest of his house. Its members are now Surface dwarves and part of the Dwarven Merchants' Guild.

*

Varric's suite at the Hanged Man was almost full to capacity that evening. Isabela and Varric were there, of course, along with Aveline and Carver. Fenris and Hawke were a little bit later than everyone else and so there was only one chair left around the table.

"Ooh, you can sit on my lap, Fenris," said Isabela, patting her thighs.

"No, thank you. I will stand and Hawke may have the chair."

"You can have the chair, Fenris. I don't mind standing."

They went on like this for a while before Fenris finally relented and sat down, across from Isabela and next to Varric.

"So, Fenris, what duties did you have? As a slave, I mean?" Isabela arched her left brow and leaned her elbow on the table, eagerly awaiting the answer.

Fenris tutted. "Not this again. Don't you have anything better to do?"

"I heard that Tevinter slaves are kept oiled so they glisten. Did your master oil you up? Did you glisten for him?"

"I was his bodyguard!" Fenris protested hotly.

"Always at his side. Always within reach. Glistening."

"You have a tawdry story written in your head already, don't you? Disgusting," said Fenris. "I need to go." Fenris stood up and marched out without even saying goodbye to anyone. Hawke felt his heart fall to somewhere near his feet.

"Isabela, that's enough," said Hawke. No wonder Fenris hadn't wanted to talk about it. But it was true, wasn't it? Isabela's joke had got to the heart of the matter. The other duties that Danarius had asked of Fenris. No, that wasn't right. Danarius didn't ask anything, he ordered it and Fenris had to obey no matter what. Hawke could hardly imagine how that felt. To be raped and abused every day by your master. No wonder Fenris had a problem with people touching him.

"I was only teasing him, Hawke," said Isabela. "You know me."

"Unfortunately we do," said Aveline. "Should one of us go after him?"

"I think he just needs to be on his own for a bit," said Hawke. "He's not used to being around so many people at once. I'll talk to him when we get home. So, you have something you needed help with, Aveline?"

"Two things actually. There have been troubling reports of missing women. Three women have gone missing so far, but only two bodies have been found. Unfortunately there is no way of identifying the women. Both of them have been decapitated and their hands and feet removed. One was wearing a mage's robe and the other a silk gown, so I suspect it was a noblewoman. A templar called Emeric was searching for a missing mage from the Circle, but Captain Jeven refused to even investigate it and said the mage probably ran away. Ser Emeric didn't think that was the case, Mharen, the missing mage, was in her fifties and had always been happy in the Circle. It was all she'd known, she'd been there since she was a child."

"Hands and feet removed? That sounds almost ritualistic," said Hawke.

"Do you think blood magic may be involved?" Aveline's eyes widened.

"Going by the mutilations I would have to say yes. And dead bodies with missing parts? It sounds like we're looking for some sort of necromancer."

"Necromancy?" asked Aveline, shuddering."You mean to tell me that's a real discipline, not just something made up to scare children?"

"No," said Isabela, rather subdued. "It's real all right. You should see what some of the Rivaini shamans get up to. Gives me the creeps."

"So, there's another woman missing as well?" asked Hawke.

"Yes, her husband was at the Barracks earlier but Jeven threw him out on his ear. Said the woman probably left him or ran off with a lover. The man's a pain in the arse, but I am worried about his wife after those other two bodies were found. Jeven refuses to even investigate. It's obvious they were murdered and the city guard should be doing all they can to catch this maniac. Gyshlain Du Carrac, that's the husband, he said he'll be in Hightown tomorrow morning if we have any news. I told him we'd have to investigate through unofficial channels."

"Hence meeting us here rather than at the Barracks," said Varric. "Since it's unofficial, I presume the city's coffers won't be overflowing with a reward?"

"No, but Du Carrac said he'll pay for news of his wife. He'll be the one hiring you, not the guards."

"And the other matter, Aveline?" asked Hawke.

"It's only conjecture at the moment, but I've been hearing these rumours for a few days now. That bandits are hiding up Sundermount and waiting for caravans to rob. I intend to put a stop to these highwaymen."

"Sundermount? Oh, shit!" said Carver. "Hawke, weren't we supposed to go to Sundermount to deliver that amulet to the Dalish elves? You do still have it, don't you? I don't fancy getting turned into a toad if I can help it. The witch struck me as the shoot spells now type, ask questions later."

"We can do both then," said Aveline. "We can see Ghyslain in the morning and head out to Sundermount shortly thereafter. We may need to camp overnight. It's a long trek and I've already been raked over the coals by Jeven for taking those horses today. We'll have to walk."

"A Fereldan in the guard. What will they think of next?" asked Varric, shaking his head and grinning.

"Do you have a problem with that?" demanded Aveline.

"Me? No, my family's not native either. I'm just surprised. There's a lot of old prejudice in the guard."

"I'll give them plenty of reason to change their minds."

"You know, it's possible they're just scared shitless of you. That's my theory, anyway," said Varric.

Aveline smiled and raised her tankard. "Here's to keeping the guard scared shitless."

"I'll second that," said Carver, raising his own and taking a long sip. Hawke raised his tankard but didn't drink.

"Fretting about Broody, Hawke? Not to worry, he'll be right as rain tomorrow. Nothing like a good fight to get it out of the system. He'll be killing Aveline's bandits and smiling again in no time."

"I hope you're right, Varric. He deserves to be happy," said Hawke.

"He would have been fine if Isabela hadn't opened her big mouth," said Aveline. "Have you no decorum at all?"

"Hey, I was only joking!" protested Isabela.

"That joke could have got you killed," said Carver. "You do know Fenris could have torn out your heart with his bare hands?"

"Okay, okay, I get the picture. I'll apologise the next time I see him."

"Don't," said Hawke. "Bringing it up would only make him feel worse. Maker, I hope he's all right."

"He'll be fine, Hawke," said Carver, placing a comforting hand on Hawke's arm. Hawke wished he could believe that. He knew Fenris had some odd powers, but what if he was outnumbered like that time when he'd been with Aveline and the bounty hunters attacked? His powers might not help.

"Carver, can you go home and tell Mother I'll be late? I don't want her worrying. Tell Fenris too, if he's there."

"Where are you going to be then?"

"I need to speak to Varric for a bit. Alone," he said, when it seemed like Carver was going to raise some objections.

"Right, that's my cue to leave," said Aveline. "I should get back to the Barracks anyway. Do you want me to walk you home, Carver?"

Carver blushed, even his ears turned red. "Er, no. I think I can manage the distance from here to Gamlen's."

"I suppose I ought to go too, then?" queried Isabela, standing up, one hand on her jutting hip. "Now don't be gossiping about me behind my back!"

"Don't worry, Isabela," said Aveline. "If I have anything to say to you, I'll be sure to say it to your face."

"You do that, Big Girl," said Isabela as she sauntered off to her own room. Aveline made a strange noise in her throat and followed her out. Carver didn't make any move to leave though.

"Do you not understand the meaning of a private conversation?" asked Hawke.

"You know, Junior, it's eerie how much of a resemblance there is between you two," said Varric.

"We're brothers. What's eerie about that?"

"Ooh, you thought I meant Hawke. I was talking about Gamlen." Varric chuckled and held his sides.

"Maker, I hate you dwarf," muttered Carver as he stomped out the door, slamming it behind him.

"Well, Hawke," said Varric rubbing his hands and smiling with glee. "You've got me all alone and at your mercy, what are you going to do with me? You'll be gentle, won't you?"

Hawke burst into gales of laughter. "Well, well, I never knew you were the type, Varric."

"What can I say, I'm irresistible. But that's not what this is about, is it? It's Broody, isn't it?"

Hawke nodded. "I can't even imagine what he went through as a slave, Varric, but even though he's escaped, he isn't free. Danarius is still out there somewhere, biding his time. He'll try again, that's obvious. But we need some advance warning. So these contacts of yours, like the Coterie and the Merchant's Guild. Would you have any contacts in other places?"

"Like the Tevinter Imperium perhaps? As a matter of fact I do. What do you need?"

"I need to know if Danarius leaves Minrathous or if he sends any hunters after Fenris again. Maybe if we're warned we'll be better able to fight them. I don't want Fenris ambushed liked he was before. Do you think your contacts can find out?"

"They can certainly try, Hawke. Fenris is lucky to have a friend like you."

Hawke smiled sadly. A friend was all he could ever be to Fenris, much as though he might wish it otherwise.

"So, Hawke, I've been dying to know – what was going through your head when you fought that ogre?"

"I knew that whatever happened I had to get the others to safety. I was too late for Bethany, though. She sacrificed herself to save us and Carver has never forgiven me."

"So, Carver was close with your sister then?"

"They were twins."

"Hmm," said Varric. "A female version of Carver? I can't really imagine that somehow. Lots of people talk about nobility and selflessness, generally in the same stories that have magic beans. Somehow Hawke, I can't imagine things will be dull with you around. Not that I expect the Deep Roads to be boring, mind you. Constant threat of doom does tend to keep you awake."

"Anything in particular I should know about your brother?" asked Hawke.

"To understand Bartrand you've got to understand the Dwarven Merchant's Guild. These are dwarves who would sell their mother if they thought there'd be a better share of the lyrium market in it. Anyone who deals with them has to sleep with a knife under their pillow. In my family, that's Batrand."

"What are your plans for this expedition into the Deep Roads?"

"It's Batrand who's running the show. Andraste's ass, he'd probably do that anyway even if we weren't paying for everything. The Thaig we're looking for is supposed to be about a week's travel under the surface, so I hope you're not scared of the dark. Or small spaces."

"I think if we can survive Gamlen's hovel, we can survive the Deep Roads."

"We've got supplies, muscle, excavators. The plan is to carry out everything that's not nailed down."

"So, let's talk about you, Varric. I'd like to get to know you a bit better if we're to be working together on this trip."

"My family came from Orzammar. Noble House Tethras, until my father got caught fixing Provings. He and our whole house got exiled. No great loss. I was born up here, sunshine suits me just fine."

"Provings? Is that something to do with precious metals?"

"No, no. A Proving is – I suppose you could call it a duel for honour. A fight to the death sometimes, sometimes first blood only. My father had been betting on dwarves he'd paid to throw the fights."

"Are you a merchant? Mercenary? Smuggler?"

"I'm a younger son. It's a difficult and dangerous profession. A lot of us die of boredom. Fortunately, being Bartrand's younger brother keeps me on my toes. Maker knows he lacks subtlety. I'm the one who pulls strings to keep the Coterie out of our hair, keep us a whisker ahead of the other families."

"A lot of things can keep you awake at night. I wouldn't reach for the doom first."

Varric shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, I could have a cup of tea in the morning, but I hear it's bad for you. I've spent my whole life in Kirkwall. Dangerous enough most days, but it doesn't compare to the Deep Roads. Just, watch your back, that's all I'm saying."

"Is Batrand liable to stab me in it?" Hawke grinned, enjoying their banter.

"Bartrand's a slippery son-of-a-bitch and he'll stab anyone if there's profit in in it. Whatever it'll turn out to be, it's going to be an adventure, that's for sure."

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

Leandra had decided that since Aveline was now sleeping at the Barracks, that Hawke and Fenris share the second bedroom and its bunk-beds, while she took one of the camp beds the neighbours had donated in the living area. Fenris greeted Gamlen and Leandra before heading for the privacy of the bedroom, not willing to be drawn into a long conversation. He lit the candle from the banked fire and set it on the wooden barrel in the corner. It didn't do much to alleviate the gloom of the room, but he felt better at having lit it even so. Reaching around his back, he removed his sword and placed it against the wall before taking off his cuirass and gauntlets, leaving him in his leather leggings and a linen tunic.

He sat on the bottom bunk for a while staring at the wall. His skin felt too tight for his body, as if he was being pricked by thorns all along his skin. He stood and paced the bedroom. Five steps one way, eight steps the other, his mind in turmoil. How had she known? Was his shame written on his face for everyone to see? What would the others think? What would Hawke think? Would they see Fenris as he thought of himself? Soiled, defiled, violated in every way.

Isabela's words, made in jest though they were, had struck at the deep hurt that he'd tried to keep hidden from everyone. They knew he'd been a slave and the shame of that had been bad enough. But what would they do if they found out what other vile duties Danarius had him perform? Would they see him as less than a man if they knew? Or worse, would they pity him? Fenris didn't want pity. He wanted blood. He wanted revenge and he could almost smell the coppery tang of Danarius' and Hadriana's blood as it seeped from their dying bodies. His nails dug into his palms, making half-moon indents on his hands.

His words with Hawke haunted him, for he'd outright lied to him. Fenris had seen the way Hawke looked at him, he wasn't naive. He knew Hawke had wanted to be more than just friends for some time now, but Fenris was terrified. Not only a fear of intimacy after what he'd gone through at Danarius' hands, but at how to even broach the other subject. Ever since the day he woke up with these vile markings, Fenris had been impotent. He'd never had an erection, never had a wet dream, he had never felt a natural arousal. No, Fenris had lied, telling Hawke that he only wanted friendship. But that was far from the truth.

Fenris knew he wanted more with Hawke, but how could he allow Hawke to be saddled with Fenris and his broken body? Hawke deserved better and Fenris hoped he would find someone else and forget about him. But even the thought of seeing Hawke with someone else, of perhaps seeing them kissing or holding hands, tore a hole in his heart and stomach. But it would be unfair for Fenris to keep Hawke from finding happiness with someone else.

Fenris startled at the knock on the door. "Fenris, are you awake?" Carver whispered from the other side. Gathering his sword, Fenris opened the door.

"What is it? Has something happened? Where is Hawke?" he demanded at once, his heart in his throat.

"He's fine, he'll be home later. He just wanted to talk to Varric for a bit."

"I see," said Fenris, but he didn't see, didn't see at all. Why would Hawke need to talk to the dwarf? They were all going on the expedition together. If there was talking to be done, shouldn't they all have been there to hear it? "Thank you for telling me."

"Well, my brother wouldn't want you to worry." Carver nodded and bade Fenris goodnight before closing the door behind him. Fenris returned his sword to settle against the wall before he undressed for bed in the nightshirt Hawke's mother had given him. Until he'd met the Hawkes, Fenris had never worn anything to bed. Danarius always wanted him naked on the floor by his bed in case he woke in the night and wanted to make use of Fenris' body. He never allowed Fenris to sleep in the bed with him. Once Danarius' baser urges were satisfied, he pushed Fenris onto the floor once again.

The nightshirt had once belonged to Hawke and where on Hawke it would have barely reached mid-thigh, it hung down past Fenris' knees. It had been difficult at first to sleep with clothes on; every time he turned on the mattress the cloth got tangled around his legs. Fenris was doubly glad of the covering now that he and Hawke shared a room, but Hawke had never given any indication that he would press his attentions where they weren't wanted. For such a long time Fenris was of the mindset that all men wanted to violate him, because for a long time every man he met did just that. Usually at Danarius' behest.

Fenris had just climbed into the bottom bunk when the door handle turned softly and Hawke tip-toed in. "I'm awake, Hawke," said Fenris, sitting back up and pulling his knees up to his chest. "You do not need to be so considerate."

"You got back home all right then?" asked Hawke as he settled on the stool by the fireplace and tugged off his boots, grunting as he did so.

"I had no problems," said Fenris. "Hawke, I must apologise for my behaviour tonight. Varric had kindly offered us the use of his room for our meeting and I stalked out, spurning his hospitality. I was unaccountably rude. I – I am unused how to act in such social occasions."

"If anyone needs to apologise, it's Isabela for what she said to you. That was ill-done of her."

"Hawke, I must speak with you. No, I need to speak with you. It's about Danarius." It was a struggle to get the words out, but had to get them out of him. The memories were slowly poisoning him and he could no longer bear this burden alone.

"Fenris, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want."

"I know, but I need to – what is that human expression? I need to get it off my heart?"

Hawke smiled and nodded his head. "You need to get it off your chest?"

Fenris nodded. "Yes. I need to tell someone, Hawke."

"Then I'll happily listen."

"About what Isabela said. It wasn't untrue. Danarius did make use of my body and allowed others to do so. The magisters were great ones for parties, to show off their discoveries or their pets." Fenris spat the last word out. He had been treated worse than a dog and a pet would have been the last name he would have called himself. "Danarius liked to show me off, show my markings to them, so I was always naked at these gatherings. He had me pour the wine for his guests, said my appearance intimidated them."

"So you worked as a servant at these parties?" Hawke asked hopefully.

"I was a slave, Hawke, I did whatever my master bid. He could have pushed me down on the floor and used be a as a table. I was less than furniture. Whether he bid me pour wine or allow another magister to make use of my body, I had to do it. Danarius passed me around his guests like some sort of party favour. If I refused, he had ways of making me obey." Fenris shivered as the memory of the pain and humiliation lingered.

"Your markings?" Hawke guessed.

"Indeed, so you can see why I was so distrustful of you when we first met. I am unused to any sort of loving touch. What Danarius did me was far from loving, although he professed time and time again that he loved his little wolf. I loathed him and every depraved thing he did to me." Fenris felt tears threaten at the back of his throat. He swallowed and blinked quickly, trying to stop them before Hawke saw he was about to weep. He wasn't weak!

"Maker, Fenris, I can hardly even imagine what that must be like to go through. I'm glad you told me and one day we are going to make that bastard pay for everything he did to you!"

"You – you don't think any less of me because of what he did to me? What I allowed him to do?"

"You didn't allow him to do anything, Fenris. He raped and abused you; you were not at fault."

"I feel so ashamed, Hawke. I feel soiled, both in my body and my soul. I scrub and scrub but no amount of bathing can ever get him out of me. I couldn't bear it if you hated me."

"Oh, Fenris," Hawke said softly, his cheek streaked orange from the glow from the fire. "I don't hate you. I admire you. You are so strong, so brave." Hawke got up from his stool and knelt down by the side of the bed. He reached out for Fenris' hand. "Is this all right? I just want to comfort you."

Fenris nodded allowed Hawke to clasp his own slender hand in Hawke's large one. Hawke didn't do anything else but touch his hand, just a comforting touch, as he had said. Fenris had never really had comfort before, at least not that he remembered. He was surprised to find himself liking it.

"Brave? You wouldn't have thought me brave if you'd seen me weeping and sobbing after one of Danarius' punishments."

"All men weep," said Hawke, gazing deep into Fenris' eyes. "We've just been told for so long that it's unmanly that we don't like to admit it. You are brave and weeping doesn't make it less so."

"You are a man unlike any other, Hawke. With you – with you it might be different."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying? You wish for us to be more than friends?"

"I might wish it, Hawke, but I cannot saddle you with someone as broken as myself."

"You're not broken. I know we would need to take any physical aspects slowly, you need to learn to trust again and I will not force you to do anything you don't want. I'd never do that."

"I know you wouldn't. That is not entirely what I meant. I mean I am broken physically. I am broken there," said Fenris, removing his hand from Hawke's and waving in the direction of his groin. "I am impotent and have been ever since I woke up with these markings. I fear they may have damaged me in some way. I have never felt a natural arousal ever since that day."

"Natural arousal?" asked Hawke. "Do you mean there were unnatural ones?"

Fenris nodded, shame heating his cheeks. "The magisters, they used spells to harden me, but I didn't want what they did to me, I didn't!"

"I know, Fenris, I know. I have heard of such spells where they can make an unwilling man have erections. It's a form of blood magic. Anything that forces another's body under your control is blood magic. But if you were physically impotent, they wouldn't have worked on you. The magic would not have enabled you to have erections if you were physically incapable."

"They wouldn't? Then what are you saying?"

"I think your impotence might not be physical. It might be psychological."

"I don't understand," said Fenris.

"Sometimes, after great trauma, the mind is affected as much as the body. After what you suffered in slavery, your mind is trying to stop you reliving that horror, so anything that might remind you of it, such as arousal or erections, is quickly quashed by your mind. I'm not sure if I'm explaining this very well."

"So my mind is trying to protect me somehow?"

"Yes, that's the essence of it."

"But, if one day I want to feel it, but can't? Is there a way it can be cured?"

"Not instantly, there isn't a healing spell that would cure it as such. You just need to take some time to get to know your body again, to allow yourself to feel pleasure. That it isn't shameful and sordid, not if you want it. Have you – um – have you tried to touch yourself? You know, for your own pleasure?"

Fenris was sure his whole face must be red by now. He felt flushed all over. "No. I – I have never felt comfortable in my body after it was so horribly used."

"I can understand that," said Hawke. "Look, Fenris. I like you, I really like you and nothing would give me greater pleasure to know that you felt the same. But I don't think we should rush into anything physical quite yet. You need time to get to know your own body again and after that we can see where things might lead."

"Thank you, Hawke. I'm glad we had this talk. You are right, I do need time. I want to be able to please you properly."

"No, Fenris, that isn't what I meant. Being together with someone you care about, that is not about one person pleasing the other. It is about both of you wanting to please each other, it's a mutual thing, or at least it should be."

"I – I see. I have never known it be that." Danarius and the other magisters hadn't cared about Fenris' pleasure. Sometimes they made him come, but they just wanted to see him humiliated at the hands of his rapists as his own body betrayed him. They weren't doing to please Fenris. "I have never been in any sort of relationship, Hawke, none that I remember anyway. If I do things wrong, you must forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," said Hawke, smiling. "Just a moment, I've something I'd like you to have." Hawke bounded across the room like a large puppy, and knelt down at a small chest in the corner. He returned bearing a broad, red ribbon and held it up to Fenris. "This belonged to my sister, Bethany. She would have adored you, Fenris. I'd like you to have it."

"Hawke, I cannot take something so precious from you."

"She would want you to have and so would I. Here, tie it around your wrist."

"Like a favour a knight would give his lady before a tournament?" Fenris asked, arching his brow.

"Yes, I'll be your knight," said Hawke. "I'll protect you from any dragons, I promise."

"Do you know, I think you would." Fenris allowed Hawke to tie the ribbon around his wrist. It felt heavier than the material should have done. It was almost as if Fenris could feel the weight of Hawke's promise in the cloth.

"Take the ribbon off if you feel that we can't be more than friends, Fenris. But if you keep wearing it, I'll keep hoping that one day we can be more." Hawke reached up to caress Fenris' cheek. "May I kiss you? Just a kiss, nothing more, I promise."

"You are making a lot of promises tonight, Ser Hawke," said Fenris. "But, yes, you may kiss me."

Hawke knelt up straighter, Fenris leaned his head down and they met somewhere in the middle. Hawke's lips were chapped and rough, but it was the sweetest, most tender kiss Fenris could ever remember and he revelled in it. Here was something that he could give to Hawke, for Danarius and the others had never kissed him. He couldn't be a virgin for Hawke, but he could give him one of his firsts after all. Fenris didn't know how long they kissed, but he knew he didn't want to stop. He wanted this perfect moment to last forever.

Gradually the tension in Fenris' body eased and he wrapped his arms around Hawke's neck, which made Hawke moan in response, startling Fenris. He pulled back from their kiss, his heart hammering against his ribs, and not in good way. Danarius had made noises like that too.

"Sorry," said Hawke. "That just slipped out. I didn't mean to frighten you. I think it's time we said goodnight, isn't it?"

"Goodnight, Hawke," said Fenris. Hawke walked back to the fire and started undressing, his back to Fenris, the first night he'd undressed that way. Normally Hawke didn't seem to care for privacy, or the lack of it. Fenris had to wonder if Hawke was hiding his arousal from him.

It was sweet, in a way, but Fenris surprised himself by wondering what Hawke's cock looked like. He hadn't allowed himself to look when they had bathed together in the bath house, but he vaguely remembered a glimpse of Hawke's chest hair, a dark mat of fur, so different to Fenris' own smoothness. Elves didn't have hair anywhere except for their head and eyebrows and the human magisters who had made use of his body had all shaved their body hair, as was traditional in Tevinter. Would Hawke be different? Would he have hair everywhere? Would he have hair on his groin to nestle his cock? Fenris' face flamed and he turned to face the wall, tugging the blankets up to his chin. He dearly hoped Hawke's magic didn't allow him to read minds.

Maybe being more than friends was something not to be frightened of after all.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

Codex Entry: The Dalish Elves

In time, the human empires will crumble. We have seen it happen countless times. Until then, we wait, we keep to the wild border lands, we raise halla and build aravels and present a moving target to the humans around us. We try to keep hold of the old ways, to relearn what was forgotten.

We call to the ancient gods, although they do not answer and have not heard us since before the fall of Arlathan, so that one day they might remember us: Elgar'nan the Eldest of the Sun and He Who Overthrew His Father, Mythal the Protector, Fen'Harel the Dread Wolf, Andruil the Huntress, Falon'Din the Friend of the Dead, Dirthamen the Keeper of Secrets, Ghilan'nain the Mother of Halla, June the Master of Crafts, and Sylaise the Hearthkeeper.

We gather every ten years for the Arlathvhen, to retell the ancient stories and keep them alive. For when the human kingdoms are gone, we must be ready to teach the others what it means to be elves.

--Gisharel, keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish elves

*

They found Ghyslain Du Carrac on the balcony overlooking the Hightown market. He'd been haranguing two guardsmen about his missing wife, and they were keen to get away from him.

"This is a domestic matter, messere. The City Guard cannot get involved."

"But she is my wife! She is legally bound to me! You must find her and bring her home!"

"We are done here," said the guard, he and his companion turning away. They both looked surprised to see Aveline, but nodded a greeting before going on their way.

"Messere, I hear you're offering a bounty for news of your wife?" asked Hawke as they approached. Ghyslain's face was lined and haggard, bruises underneath his eyes, as if he hadn't had much sleep lately.

"If you can find Ninette, I will gladly pay you. That foolish woman has caused me nothing but embarrassment. She needs to be dragged home!"

"She's your wife, not a dog!" said Isabela.

"Charming," said Fenris. "And you wonder why she may have left?"

"Yes, yes. My wife and I do not get along. Her family is getting suspicious. They think I might have... done something to her. Even if – if – I just want to make sure that they know I had nothing to do with it!"

"You don't even care if your wife's alive or dead! We're not helping you!"

"So you'd let her die, just to spite me? Hah! If you reconsider, speak to Jethann at the Blooming Rose. Yes, my wife visited whores! He even sent flowers to our home! Our home! White lilies, her favourites. And you wonder why I hate her?" Gyshlain rubbed at his eyes and sniffled, obviously not wanting them to see him cry. Maybe he loved his wife more than he was letting on.

"I know Jethann," said Carver. "He's a friend of Faith's. I can't imagine him doing anything to harm her."

"Please, go and see him," begged Ghyslain. "He may know where she's gone."

"All right," Hawke agreed. "We will look for your wife."

"Thank you, messere."

*

Hawke had never been to any sort of brothel before and he was amused that it was his younger brother who knew his way around, and seemed to know most of the workers and the patrons.

"Interesting place," said Hawke, taking stock of the murals of men and women in various states of undress, or naked altogether and in various combinations. He turned his head this way and that, following the contortions of the bodies. Were some of those positions even physically possible?

"Let's not stay here too long," said Aveline. "It's not the sort of place the Guard should be frequenting."

"Oh, please," said Isabela, chuckling. "Who do you think their best customers are, Aveline? Soldiers and sailors, like everywhere else in Thedas."

"Madam Lusine runs the place for Harlan," said Varric. "With him. Or on him, or something. It's a Coterie thing."

"Hey, I know a joke," said Isabela. "What's the difference between a whore and a courtesan?"

Hawke groaned. "I don't know, what is the difference?"

"A courtesan has better shoes."

"I doubt anyone is looking at their shoes," said Hawke.

"I don't know," said Varric. "Some people do have a shoe fetish? Or is it a foot fetish? I'm not quite sure."

They made their way from the foyer to the common room where the tables were filled with customers and their companions. "He didn't really ask you to wear a feather boa?" Hawke overheard a female elf ask her male counterpart.

"A feather boa and nothing else," replied the male elf. "Orlesians, darling. Can't get much weirder than them."

"Jethann's room is upstairs," said Carver, scanning the crowd in the common room. "He's not down here."

"What should we do if he is – um – entertaining?" asked Hawke, blushing.

"Then we'll just have to wait."

They made their way upstairs, following Carver who seemed to relish being in the lead for once. "It's okay, his door's open. He's not with anyone at the moment."

Carver knocked on the open door, but then went in without waiting for an invitation. The rest of them hovered outside, unsure of the etiquette about being in a whore's bedroom when they weren't clients.

"Carver! Come to sample my many charms?" Jethann asked, one hand on his hip and licking his full lips. "And you've brought friends, I see. You're branching out. What will Faith say? She'll be heartbroken."

Jethann was shorter than Fenris, but taller than many elves, whith strawberry blond hair and violet eyes. His cheekbones were high and pronounced and Hawke could see how Ninette might be attracted to him.

"Er, no, we're not here for that," said Carver. "This is my brother, we're looking for Ninette."

Jethann peered over Carver's shoulder and raked his gaze over Hawke. "Today's my rest day, but I'd certainly make an exception for you. Why work if you're not working hard?"

"Don't even think about it, Hawke," Aveline hissed in his ear and Fenris moved to stand so close to Hawke that they were almost touching. Hawke could almost feel the jealousy dripping from Fenris and his heart lifted. Fenris did feel something other than friendship for him, he must.

"My brother's right," said Hawke. "We are only looking for Ninette. I can see why she liked you, though. You're feisty." Fenris stood on his foot and Hawke winced, although it hadn't been that painful; Hawke was wearing boots while Fenris was barefoot. Right, no flirting with pretty elves when Fenris was standing right there. He got the message.

"I haven't seen Ninette. Not for several weeks. Shame. I enjoyed her company. I hear she left her worthless husband. Good for her! I just wish she'd said goodbye."

"Do you have any idea where she might be?" asked Hawke.

"No, I'm sorry. I don't. We didn't spend much of our time together talking."

"Did you hope she might leave Ghyslain for you?"

"What? No, of course not. I provide a service, nothing more."

"Her husband knew she visited you. Did her husband come and speak to you?"

"He did. Stormed in here, ranting and raving, and called me a dirty knife-ears, among other things. I might say that he was the one who might have done something to her, but he doesn't have the balls for it. I hope she's all right. Everyone here loved Ninette. Sometimes twice a night. There was someone else looking for her, though. A templar, name of Emeric, I think."

"Yes, Ser Emeric has already spoken to the Guard," said Aveline. "Maybe we'll need to talk to him again."

"You don't think Ninette might be an apostate?" asked Hawke.

"No, I don't think so. But if she was, she would hardly have told anyone, would she?"

"Thank you, Jethann. We'll not bother you any further," said Hawke.

"Oh, it's no bother," said Jethan in a sultry tone. "I'll always have time for you."

Hawke coughed and headed downstairs before Fenris got it into his head to rip out Jethann's heart. Or his own. And Hawke liked his heart very much where it was.

"So, off to Sundermount, then?" Hawke asked in a bright tone, trying to ignore the glares Fenris was giving him.

"Yes, we just need to go back to the Barracks and get the equipment."

"What equipment?" asked Isabela.

"We'll be camping. We need tents, food, cooking equipment and all the rest."

"Oh, right," said Hawke, who'd never camped in his life. Who knew camping involved so much stuff?

*

"You seem in a very cheery mood today, Hawke," said Aveline as she walked beside him along the rocky paths of Sundermount.

"And why not? It's a lovely day, the sun is shining, the birds are singing and we're on our way to see the Dalish after dealing with your bandits, what's not to love?" Hawke glanced ahead of them, where Varric and Fenris were talking together. Every so often, Fenris would glance down at the red ribbon on his wrist, then turn and give Hawke a shy smile before giving his attention to Varric once more. Every time Fenris did it, Hawke felt like he was walking on air rather than the rocky paths they were negotiating.

"Uh huh. If you think I'd believe that, I'd believe anything. You're grinning from ear to ear like the cat that got the cream. Fenris seems in a happier mood than last night, too. I suppose Varric was right with that at least, give Fenris something to kill and he's happy. You though, you're acting like a man in love."

"I am in love," Hawke said softly. I kissed him and he kissed me back! He wanted to shout it to the sky, but didn't fancy falling foul of Fenris' hands. "And we're spending the day together."

Aveline coughed and stopped on the path. "Hawke, I'm flattered, but you're like a brother to me."

"Oh, no, it's not you!" Hawke protested hotly.

"Thanks very much," she muttered. "I suppose it's the pirate, then?"

Hawke shook his head.

"Then who? You don't know that many women, Hawke."

"Who said it was a woman?"

"Oh. OH! I didn't know you liked men that way."

"Is that going to be a problem between us?"

"No, of course not! I'm just surprised, that's all. When we first met Isabela, you seemed to be ogling her as much as Carver was."

"I was just admiring her, not in a sexual way," Hawke hastened to add. "But like seeing a beautfiul picture, or sculpture, you know?"

"She is beautiful," Aveline agreed. "I look like a toad next to her. Ginger hair and freckles and more muscles than some men."

"You are beautiful," said Hawke. "And don't let anyone else tell you otherwise. Mother wants you to come to dinner this week, she misses you."

"I miss her too," said Aveline, sighing. "How about Wednesday? I have an early shift then, so I should be able to make it."

"Varric, Isabela!" Hawke called and everyone else turned around. "Dinner at Gamlen's on Wednesday night?"

"Look forward to it," said Varric. Isabela nodded and smiled, before turning back to Carver.

"You didn't have to invite her too," groaned Aveline.

"You two just need to spend some time together," said Hawke. "I think you'll be great friends."

"When pigs fly."

"That works," said Hawke, grinning. "I'm a mage, remember? I can make a pig fly for you."

"So who is the mystery man, then, Hawke? I didn't think Varric went for humans. And there's Bianca to consider as well, he's married to that crossbow."

Hawke shook his head, uable to keep the happy grin off his face.

"Fenris?" Aveline exclaimed.

"Ssh, not so loud," Hawke advised. "He won't want everyone to know."

"Fenris? You and Fenris?" Aveline persisted, but in a softer tone. "Are you sure that's wise, Hawke?"

"What do you mean?"

"You could end up on the wrong end of his fist if things go wrong. I'm just worried for you. For both of you. Fenris seems to have some issues. I don't want either of you to get hurt."

"I know, we've talked over things, Aveline. We're not going to rush anything, just see what might happen."

"But you just said you were in love."

"I'm in love, I don't think Fenris is there yet. He needs time to get his head straight and we've both agreed that the – er – more physical aspects can wait. I'm a patient man."

Aveline snorted. "Patient? You? The last time we had dinner together, you ate your food so fast that it burned your tongue, you couldn't even wait until it had cooled down."

"Point taken. But I mean it. I'll wait for Fenris for as long as it takes." Hawke tried not to sigh as he caught sight of Fenris' fluttering ribbon. He felt like one of those maidens in his sister's romance books, waiting for a hero to sweep them off their feet. He suppressed a chuckle. Fenris was a bit shorter than him, who would do the actual sweeping? Maybe they could take turns at the sweeping with Fenris standing on a box or a stool?

"That's good, very mature of you, Hawke. The sun's going down, I suppose we ought to think about making camp soon. I don't fancy stumbling around these mountains in the dark. You'll be wanting to share a tent with Fenris, I take it?"

"Only if he wants to. Better let him decide that."

"Good idea," agreed Aveline. "We're all less likely to get our hearts ripped out that way."

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

*

Codex Entry: Sundermount

Kirkwall is guarded by mountains to it north, the tallest of which is Sundermount. The mountain has a fearsome reputation. Legend says it was the site of the final battle between the Tevinter Imperium of old and the ancient empire of elves that perished with Arlathan. Both sides unleashed horrors into the waking world, and Fade creatures prowl the heights to this very day, unaware that the war for which they were summoned is long since over.

There is a tale in the Free Marches that Blessed Andraste, upon reaching Kirkwall with her armies, sojourned up the slopes of Sundermount alone. She stayed there three days. When she returned, she wept as if her heart were broken.

I stayed two months in Kirkwall, and despite my best efforts, I never found a guide willing to take me up the mountain.

—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi

*

Once Aveline had settled on a suitable place to camp, she set Fenris and Carver off hunting for their supper. Half and hour later they returned with a brace of rabbits, mushrooms and wild carrots. Aveline took the rabbits and set to butchering them, while she instructed Hawke and Varric to chop up the mushrooms and carrots for stew.

"Why is it always stew when camping?" Varric asked, peering into the pot bubbling over the fire as they waited for the water to boil.

"It's easy to make, it's filling and stew is good if you have more than one or two people who need fed. Isabela, there's some bread and cheese in my pack, as well, can you get it for me, please?"

"Yes, ma'am!" said Isabela, saluting her as she headed off to Aveline's pack.

"Anything for dessert?" asked Varric.

"I saw some blackberries on the path earlier," said Hawke. "Do you want me to go and fetch some?"

"If you don't mind, Hawke," said Aveline, still cutting and skinning the rabbits. Hawke made a mental note to himself not to get on the wrong side of her. The way she wielded those knives made that the sensible thing to do.

"It's no trouble," replied Hawke.

"I shall accompany you," said Fenris. "I have never picked berries before."

Hawke was surprised that Fenris wanted to go off on his own with him, but he wasn't going to turn down an offer like that. "Thank you, Fenris. It should be fun."

Aveline hunted in her pack and brought out two wooden bowls. "Fill these, that should be enough for everyone, if anyone else can get some before Varric devours them all."

"Hey! That wounds me, Aveline. I've got a sweet tooth, but I like to share."

"Right," said Carver, rolling his eyes. "Like the time you ate the last two slices of Mother's chocolate cake?"

Fenris and Hawke left everyone still bickering good-naturedly and he smiled, shaking his head. They were all like one big family and he was so glad he had found these friends. They stopped on the trail further back where the brambles had almost choked the path, heavy with ripe blackberries. He and Fenris worked in tandem, each of them filling a bowl to the brim, but the brambles were still covered in fruit. "We should have brought some more bowls," said Hawke. "It'll be dark soon, though. Probably best not to wander around Sundermount in the dark."

"I agree," said Fenris. "You can feel how thin the veil is up here. A perfect place to bury your dead. I'm surprised the Dalish chose a camping ground so near to a graveyard."

"You can sense the veil?" asked Hawke, surprised. Even he wasn't aware of it all the time, only when he cast a spell and opened to the Fade.

Fenris nodded. "Perhaps it is the lyrium? I do not know much of its workings. I can sense mages and the veil sometimes, but it is an erratic sensation at best. I do not sense these things all the time." Fenris glanced down at his bowl of fruit. "Blackberries, you call these? I have never seen them in Tevinter."

"The climate's probably too hot for them there," said Hawke. "Here, you've got to try one before Varric eats them all." Hawke plucked a plump blackberry from his bowl and held it up to Fenris' lips. Fenris' eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't pull away from Hawke's proximity. Fenris opened his mouth and allowed Hawke to place the fruit on his tongue, Hawke's fingers grazing Fenris' lips as he did so. Fenris' eyes fluttered closed and he moaned around the fruit in his mouth. "Mm, delicious."

Hawke had a strange, squirming feeling in his midriff and lower still as he watched and listened to a Fenris lost in ecstasy. It was only fruit, but still Hawke couldn't help imagining what other things might make Fenris react like that.

"Maker, Fenris," Hawke breathed. "Do you know how beautiful you are?"

Fenris' eyes snapped open and Hawke was lost in the depths of mossy green eyes as Fenris took a deep breath, as if he was steeling himself for something unpleasant. Fenris placed his bowl of fruit on the ground, then reaching for Hawke's bowl and doing the same with it. The elf smiled at Hawke, before striding purposefully towards him and looking deep into Hawke's eyes.

"Fenris?" gasped Hawke, his heart doing little somersaults in his chest.

"Sssh," whispered Fenris, placing a lyrium-lined finger against Hawke's lips. The magic called to him and Hawke could no better stop the shiver of desire that rocked him than he could stop the sun from setting. Even such an innocent touch from Fenris made arousal surge through him and he had to consciously stop himself from reaching out to touch Fenris. Whatever this was he wanted to make sure that Fenris knew he was in control and Hawke wouldn't do anything to jeopardise that. Hawke felt dizzy and faint, worried he might fall here on the rocks and he stared at Fenris, something steady to keep him grounded.

Fenris smiled again, reaching up and cupping both of Hawke's cheeks in his hands. The lyrium on Fenris' skin reacted with Hawke's magic, and he hissed in surprised pleasure. "Fenris?" Hawke asked again, unsure where this was going.

"Sssh, no words. Not now," said Fenris and with that he tugged Hawke's face down towards his. When their lips met Hawke thought for sure he was going to faint this time. Fenris was rough and passionate, a clash of teeth and tongues which had both of them moaning into each other's mouth. Hawke had never been kissed like it. He fisted his hands at his sides, wanting to touch Fenris but afraid to scare him off if he did. Fenris bit Hawke's bottom lip, then soothed it with a soft swipe of tongue, his hands still cupping Hawke's cheeks. Hawke's cock was rock-hard and when Fenris tried to tug Hawke closer to him, Hawke resisted, making Fenris break the kiss and look at Hawke in some confusion.

"Didn't you like kissing me?" Fenris asked, frowning.

"Oh, Fenris, of course I did! I liked it a bit too much," Hawke said, chuckling and waving his hand at his groin.

"Oh! Oh," Fenris said. "You – um – you got hard just from kissing?"

It took words like that to make Hawke realise that despite his abuses and rapes, Fenris was still an innocent in so many ways. "Not just because of the kiss," said Hawke. "But because I was kissing you. I find you very desirable, Fenris, but I know you're not ready for anything more yet. I didn't want to scare you."

"Being with you, kissing you doesn't scare me," said Fenris. "I wanted to kiss you, away from the others. I thought it might help with my other problem." They both looked down between Fenris' legs where Hawke could clearly see that Fenris wasn't hard at all. "Maybe I'll never get better."

"You will, Fenris," Hawke assured him. "It'll just take some time, and we've got plenty of that."

The sunset was painting the horizon in shades of pink and gold. "I suppose we'd better get back to the others. Varric will be cursing us for staying away so long! He'll want his fruit," said Hawke, smiling.

*

"I'm surprised you still travel with us, Aveline," said Carver, after swallowing a hunk of rabbit.

"Carver, don't." Aveline glowered at him.

"You're ever so busy with the guardsmen. It must be a burden to slum with the refugees."

"It's oddly comforting that you insult me like I'm family."

"That wasn't... no, I didn't mean that."

"I know. But you should be glad that's how I took it. I've been a bit worried about you lately, Carver."

"Me? What have I done?"

"It's more some of the people you've been associating with."

"Talk to my brother. He's the one in charge, isn't he?"

"Maybe. There are some people in this city who are determined to come to a bad end. I don't want you to be one of them." Aveline glared at him, then at Hawke too. Hawke shrugged. Carver was a grown man, it wasn't as if he could be grounded for things they didn't approve of.

"Would asking you to stop spying on me help in the least?" Carver groused and reached for another piece of rabbit in his stew.

"Nope," said Aveline, smiling broadly.

"Do you know, Carver, you look like a man who once challenged me to a duel," said Isabela from the other side of the fire.

"Really?" Carver sat up straighter around the campfire and Fenris glanced over at Hawke, both of them sharing a fond smile at Carver's efforts to impress Isabela.

"He was a little intimated by my reputation as a vicious pirate, but rose to the challenge."

"He looked like me?" Carver visibly preened and Hawke had to take another bit of food to stop himself from laughing out loud at his poor brother's antics.

"It went on all night, under the stars, the waves lapping at our ankles." Isabela sighed in reminiscence.

"On the beach? On the surf? But how did you get a proper footing?" asked Carver.

"We didn't. There was quite a bit of tumbling around, and we were soaked and sore by the time the sun came up."

"Did you... win?"

"I managed to get on top in the end, but I considered it a tie." Isabela smirked and walked over to the pot to get some more food, her hips swaying.

"Why is it always about sex with you?" Carver asked, frowning.

"It's not. Sometimes it's about sex with other people." Isabela sat back down, cross-legged, her dress barely covering her lap and winked at Carver.

"You see? It comes up every single time we talk."

"We're just talking, Puppy. If it comes up, that's not my fault."

"What? I mean... that's not what I meant. It... it doesn't! I'm going to bed." Carver said and stormed off in a huff.

"Do you want some company?" Isabela called.

"No, I do not! Varric, you can share with me," said Carver, hopefully.

"Will do, Little Hawke."

"And don't call me that!"

"Oho, so who's tent will I be in tonight?" Isabela asked.

"Mine," said Aveline firmly. "That way I know there'll be none of your shenanigans."

"Oh, Aveline. You wound me. As if I would take advantage of a poor, defenceless man just because we shared a tent. And anyway, you do know I like women too, right?"

"Hawke!" Aveline pleaded.

"All right, Isabela, you've had your fun. No shenanigans with Aveline or anyone else tonight, right?"

"You lot are no fun," grumbled Isabela but she stopped making waves after that. Hawke felt like he was the elder brother to a bunch of siblings who wanted to do nothing but argue tonight. It was wearying.

"I thought all dwarves had beards," said Fenris. "Where's yours?"

"I misplaced it, along with my sense of dwarven pride and my gold-plated noble caste pin," said Varric, snorting and shovelling in another mouthful of stew.

"I thought maybe it fell onto your chest." Fenris tried and failed to keep a straight face; Hawke saw his lips curling at the edges.

"Oh-ho! The broody elf tells a joke!"

"I don't brood." Fenris placed his arms over his chest and glared at Varric.

"Friend, if you're brooding was any more impressive, women would swoon as you passed. And men too. They'd have broody babies in your honour."

"You're a very odd dwarf."

"And you thought I was joking about the pin. So where's you beard, Elf?"

"Elves don't grow beards."

"Huh. I thought you'd shaved it off in a fit of broody pique."

"Oh," said Isabela, eyes glittering in the firelight. "So you're smooth all over?"

"Yes, not that it is any of your business."

"Can I see?" asked Isabela eagerly.

That was it, Hawke had enough sibling wrangling for one night. "Everyone, time for bed. We have an early start in the morning."

"Oh, you're no fun tonight, Hawke," said Isabela. "I'll just go and bed down with Aveline, shall I?"

"Not with her," Hawke said firmly. "Just in the same tent."

"I'll say goodnight too," said Varric. "My bones are starting to creak. Oh, Hawke, before I forget. Some of my contacts said there's a Grey Warden in the city, might be worth investigating."

"What do we need a Grey Warden for?" asked Hawke. "The Blight's over, isn't it?"

"The Wardens don't just deal with Blights. The forge into the Deep Roads every so often, try and keep them clear of darkspawn. We need someone who knows how to get in. Bartrand will know where we need to go once we're down there, but we need a good entrance first. This Grey Warden might be able to help us."

"Any entrance is good, isn't it? Unless a dragon's sitting in it, I suppose," said Hawke, deadpan.

Varric and Isabela both chuckled and even Fenris' face broke out into a smile.

"We need an entrance that's close to our destination," said Varric. "One that isn't already plundered or filled with darkspawn. Our Grey Warden might be able to help with that. The word is he arrived a few weeks ago with some other refugees. Lirene's been helping them, you know, where we got Fenris' second hand sword?"

"I remember her," said Isabela. "She didn't seem too friendly. I'm not sure she'd be much help."

"Well, it's all we've got to go on for now. We can ask her when we get back to the city," said Hawke.

They chatted for a few minutes more before Varric and Isabela gave their final good nights. Once they had gone to their respective tents, it left Fenris and Hawke alone by the fire.

"So it seems we are to share a tent then?" Fenris asked softly.

"I'm sorry, Fenris. I didn't arrange this, I don't want you to think I'm trying to get you on your own or anything."

"It's all right, Hawke," the elf replied. "We share a room at your uncle's house, sharing a tent will be no different. I know you wouldn't do anything I didn't want. And perhaps we might share a goodnight kiss or two?"

Hawke quickly doused the fire, grabbed Fenris' hand and headed to their tent, grinning like a fool in love.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen

Codex Entry Maleficarum:

It has been asked, "What are maleficarum? How shall we know them?" I have been asked by this question as you. You have come to me for the wisdom of the Maker, but none have seen the Maker's heart save Beloved Andraste. And so I have done as all mortals must, and looked to the words of His prophet for answers. And there, I found respite from a troubled mind.

For she has said to us, "Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him." Therefore, I say to you, they who work magic which dominates the minds and hearts of others, they have transgressed the Maker's law.

Also, Our Lady said to us, "Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker." And so it is made clear to me, as it should be to us all: That magic which fuels itself by harming others, by the letting of blood, is hated by the Maker.

Those mages who honour the Maker and keep his laws we welcome as our brothers and sisters. Those who reject the laws of the Maker and the words of His prophet are apostate. They shall be cast out, and given no place among us.

--From The Sermons of Justinia I.

*

Fenris woke up, more refreshed then he'd been for weeks. They had indeed shared some kisses the night before, both of them breathing heavily, but unwilling to stop, even when their eyes were drooping with tiredness. He'd only panicked once, when Hawke's hands had slid from his lower back to his hip, but at sensing Fenris' distress, Hawke was quick to move his hand after that. Fenris didn't even need to tell him why it was uncomfortable, Hawke just knew.

They'd fallen asleep facing each other, Fenris' arm around Hawke's waist, their lower limbs so entangled that it was difficult to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Hawke had kept his hands clear of Fenris' lower body after the almost panic attack, with nothing more than kisses and soft caresses to Fenris' hair and neck. Nothing they'd done then had frightened Fenris or reminded him of those other touches and the longer they kissed, the more Fenris began to feel strange flutterings in his belly. Nothing he could quite define as an arousal, not yet, but he'd definitely been feeling something. He could tell that Hawke was hard, but knowing that he wouldn't do anything about it freed something in Fenris and he had relaxed into their kisses and caresses.

"Morning," said Hawke with a wide grin. "How did you sleep?"

"Very well, my champion," said Fenris with a smile of his own, and a fond gaze at the ribbon adorning his wrist.

"Champion?" Hawke laughed. "An apostate refugee?"

"If I say you're my champion, then you have to take the title. I think it's in the chivalry rule book."

"They have a rule book? I suppose I must then," said Hawke, squirming out of Fenris' embrace so he could sit up and make a half-bow. "Your champion, my love. Shall we go and fight some dragons today?"

"How about breakfast and then we can tackle the Dalish instead?"

"Sounds like a plan," said Hawke, whose stomach grumbled at the words.

"Are you always hungry?" asked Fenris, mock-glowering at him.

"Hey, I'm still growing," said Hawke. "I need all the energy I can get."

"Growing in girth maybe," said Fenris, unable to hold in his laughter. "But not any taller."

They started throwing pillows at each other before the flap to their tent was yanked open by an angry looking Aveline. "Everyone else is up and had breakfast, how much longer are you two going to be?"

Hawke shrieked like a maiden and placed his hand upon his brow, pretending to swoon. "Aveline! We aren't dressed!" he protested, grinning.

"Right," mumbled Aveline. "As if you'd care about that. You're an exhibitionist, Aemond Hawke and if you don't hurry up, I'll drag you out here for breakfast, dressed or not!"

*

They were stopped at the entrance to the Dalish camp by two warriors, one male, one female, but both equipped with large swords and shields. They had a smug air of superiority that Fenris could sense immediately.

"Hold, Shemlen. Your kind are not welcome among the Dalish," said the male elf, holding out his hand.

"Shemlen?" asked Hawke.

"It's an Elvish word for human," said Fenris. "Or rather more accurately, a slur."

Hawke shrugged as if he'd been called worse in his time and Fenris felt his heart break a little at Hawke's easy acceptance of the insult, as if he'd been used to them.

"It means you are not one of the People, one of us," said the male warrior.

"Who are the Dalish?" Hawke persisted.

"We are the last of the Elvhen."

"So you keep saying," said Fenris, scowling "Frequently."

"We are not like you city elves who forget their roots and their history. We remember who the People truly are, even as you city elves forget."

"I'm not expecting tea and cakes," said Hawke. "I just need to see someone named Marethari."

"How do you know that name?"

"Wait," said his female companion. "This is the one the Keeper spoke of."

"A Shemlen? I thought he'd be an elf." The male warrior cast his gaze over Hawke and seemed to find him wanting.

"Enter the camp, Shemlen," said the female warrior. "Keeper Marethari has been waiting for you."

"But cause trouble and you'll see the sharp ends of our blades."

They found Marethari in the centre of the camp, standing by the fire. Her hair was white, but her face unlined. Fenris couldn't even begin to guess at her age, but her eyes held ancient wisdom. From what he'd heard of the Dalish, it would be unusual for a young man or woman to be the Keeper. Marethari must be older than she looked.

"Keeper Marethari?" Hawke asked as they approached her. "I was told to bring you this amulet." Hawke handed her the jewel and she stared down at it, as if seeing something else other than metal and precious stone.

"Ah, at last. Let me look at you, child. You have a light in your heart, don't let it go out. You will need it. There's also truth in your face, a rare thing in a human. Tell me how this burden fell to you?"

"Your guard said you spoke of me. How did you know we were coming?"

"I listened. To the wind, to the birds, as the hunters do. To my dreams. I watched the stars. There is great wisdom to be found all around us if you know how to listen for it. But I was not certain. Nothing is certain."

"Exactly what have I been carrying around? Is it magic?"

"It is a promise, child, made by one whose word still has weight and therefore it has terrible power. There are few things in this world stronger than a promise kept. Remember that."

"Are you the leader of these Dalish? Why did the witch tell me to bring the amulet to you?"

"I am the Keeper of this clan. It is my task to guide my people and to ensure the old ways are known. As for Asha'Belanar, I am tied to her, just as you are, by a debt that must be repaid. So how did this amulet come to you, child?"

"A dragon fell from the sky, charred some darkspawn and then asked me to bring you this amulet. No big deal."

"You are blessed by luck, then. I will pray that Mythal watches over your path. The amulet must be taken to an altar at the top of the mountain and given a Dalish rite for the departed. Then, return the amulet to me and any debt is paid in full."

"Are you going to teach me this rite for the departed?"

"I will send my First with you, she will perform the rite and when it is complete, I ask that you escort Merrill to Kirkwall."

"As you wish."

"It is not my wish, but hers," said Marethari. "And I must honour it."

"Your First?" queried Hawke.

"I suppose humans would have called her my apprentice, she was to become Keeper after me, but sadly that path is now lost to us. Please, guide her safely to the city."

"We will," said Aveline. "We'll look after her."

"Thank you, Merrill is like a daughter to me and I do not wish her to come to harm. You will find her waiting for you on the path just up ahead. May the Creators watch over you and yours." Marethari bowed to them and they made their way up the mountain path.

The ground was uneven underfoot and the path was almost vertical; Fenris felt his lung straining a bit as they made their way. "Maker preserve us," grumbled Varric. "Who in their right mind decided to make mountains vertical? My little legs can't keep up with this."

Varric's legs and Fenris' lungs were saved when they came upon a lone elf female, bending down on the path. There was a strange hissing noise and a light below her hands, which was quickly doused when she realised she had company.

Fenris could sense the magic on her and tried not to sigh. Another mage. Was he to be plagued by them forever?

Merrill stood and dusted down her clothes; clothes that were not in he best repair. Fenris was reminded of some of the poorer slaves at Danarius' estates; those who worked the kitchens or cleaned the stables and he felt a smidgen of sympathy, which he quickly quashed. She was no downtrodden slave; she had a mages's power.

"Oh, hello. I didn't hear. You must be the one the Keeper told me about. I'm so sorry, I didn't even ask your name. Unless, is it rude to ask Shemlen their name?"

"It's more rude to call them a Shemlen," said Fenris.

"Sorry, human. I meant human. I'm Merrill. But I suppose you knew that already? I'm rambling, sorry. I do that a lot."

"Why are you leaving the Dalish for Kirkwall?" asked Hawke.

"I have to. Let's leave it at that for now, all right?"

"I get the feeling you're in trouble," Hawke said sympathetically.

"It's not like that! Not exactly, anyway. The Keeper and I have disagreements, but it will sort itself out in time."

"Did you hear that strange noise?" asked Hawke, voicing Fenris' own question.

"Oh. I didn't hear anything."

"You seem awfully nervous."

"I've never been this close to humans before. Dalish mothers frighten their children with stories about you. Not you personally, of course. I'm sure they don't have any tales about you."

"I wouldn't count on it," said Varric. "I've heard a tale or two about Hawke."

"You're the one who was spreading those tales," said Aveline in an exasperated tone.

"Well, not scary ones at least," said Merrill. "Not that you're not notable enough to have a story. I'll just stop talking now."

"We didn't get a proper introduction," said Hawke.

"I am, or was I suppose, the First to Keeper Marethari. I've studied the old ways for as long as I can remember. I know things. The lore of the Dalish that can help us get to the summit of Sundermount."

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Merrill. I'm Aemond Hawke, but people call me Hawke."

"Thank you. I'm afraid I'm not very experienced with your kind. The Keeper said you came from Ferelden. I spent most of my life there. We only came north a few years ago. Have you been in the Free Marches long? Do you like it here?"

"I miss the cold and the dirt. Kirkwall's not brown enough for me. But hey, no darkspawn!"

"Ferelden wasn't that brown!" protested Merrill. "The dirt and muck gave it character."

"And a unique smell," said Carver. "You don't really get that stench anywhere else."

"We should go," said Merrill. "Your task is for Asha'Belanar and she is not one known for her patience.

"What do we have to do with the amulet?" Hawke looked down at the pendant in his hand.

"It's a funeral of sorts. I'll perform when we get to the mountain top. Getting there is the tricky part. Our hunters haven't been able to reach the summit. Dark thinks are about."

"I take it you've been expecting me to bring this amulet for some time."

"Yes, the Keeper brought us here to wait for you. I don't know much more than that. I do know that you have Asha'Belanar's amulet and we must bring it to the altar on the mountain top. Nothing more."

"Do you know the witch who sent me here?"

"No, not personally. But I know of her. Every Dalish knows of her. My people tell stories of her. You're very lucky. Most people who meet her end up in little pieces, hanging from the trees."

"We'd better get this over with, then," said Carver. "We should have come sooner. Let's get to the summit."

"Summit? You mean we have to climb this thing?" groused Varric.

But grousing or not, Varric accompanied the rest of them up the mountain and half an hour after they'd met Merrill, they were attacked by skeletons rising up from the ground. Everyone fought, and it didn't take long for the others to realise that Merrill's stick was in fact a staff, not a walking stick, which it had been disguised to look like. Fenris had known she was a mage all along, but he felt uncomfortable that he hadn't told the others what he'd sensed.

"The Keeper didn't say you were a mage," said Hawke.

"I imagine it's difficult to give away something that nobody wants," sneered Fenris. Merrill's eyes glistened, as if she was about to cry.

"Fenris, that was uncalled for," said Aveline.

"All Keepers know a bit of old magic. The stories tell us that all Elvhen once had the gift, but like so many things it has been lost."

"Magic isn't a gift, it's a curse," said Fenris.

"It's a Keeper's job to remember," said Merrill. "To restore what we can."

"Can't demons possess Dalish mages?" queried Hawke.

"It can happen. And when it does, the clan must hunt and kill their own Keeper."

"Does the Chantry know about Dalish Mages?"

"Oh, they know. Keeper Marethari told me once that was one of the reasons why we never camped in one place for too long. They usually won't pursue us if we stay away from the cities and towns and keep moving. But my clan is now in more danger since we've lost our herd of halla."

"If you go to Kirkwall, you've be an apostate in city full of templars. Are you sure this is what you want?" asked Hawke.

"I know the dangers. But if I don't go to Kirkwall I'll be alone and a solitary elf is easy prey for anyone. The Keeper has arranged lodgings for me in the Alienage there. I must do this, I don't have a choice. In the city I can get lost in the crowd."

"You fight well," said Hawke. "My sister was a battle mage, I'm sure you could have taught her a thing or two."

"Oh! Oh, thank you! I've only done a little fighting before. I tried not to hit anyone, on our side, I mean. Sorry, I'm rambling again."

"You'll have to work a lot harder than that to offend me," said Hawke, grinning. Fenris couldn't understand how he could be so open with people he'd only just met, but then Fenris had always been wary of strangers himself. Maybe Hawke's easygoing nature was what had attracted him to Hawke in the first place. Not to mention how often he smiled, his eyes and mouth crinkling up at the corners. Fenris found it endearing, not that he would admit that to anyone, of course.

Half way up the mountain, they found another elven warrior sitting cross-legged around his campfire. He stood up and glowered at Merrill, who seemed to shrink visibly under the scrutiny

"Finally, the Keeper found someone to take you from here."

"Yes," said Merrill.

"Then finish your task quickly, human. We cannot be rid of this one too soon." The warrior hefted his bow and quiver and started walking down the mountain.

"I have made my choice and I will save our clan," Merrill called after him, but he ignored her.

"Isn't Dalish camaraderie delightful?" said Isabela, trying to lighten the mood.

Everyone stared hard at Merrill. "I'm sensing a story here," said Varric.

"Merrill, what's going on here?" demanded Hawke.

"Nothing, just ignorance. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...The Dalish normally look out for each other, just not today it seems. We should hurry and get on with our task."

"Lead the way, Merrill," said Aveline. "We're with you."

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

*

Codex Entry: Flemeth

Flemeth is a shapeshifter, known as 'the Witch of the Wilds' or Asha'bellanar ("woman of many years" in Dalish). She is widely recognized as the eponymous character of an age-old legend, described variously as extremely powerful and long-lived (or even immortal); "terrible in her temper and wild in her beauty"; and having many daughters, all of whom are witches like their mother.

The name "Flemeth" belongs to a fearsome personage that walked the Wilds centuries ago. According to legend, Flemeth and her daughters can kill a man by fear alone. The "Witch of the Wilds" is not a true title so much as a superstitious name the locals of the Korcari Wilds gave to these terrifying women. Although Morrigan at first believed her mother to be an abomination, she later realized that Flemeth is "no blood mage, no abomination. She's not even truly human!"

Flemeth has an almost unsettling tendency to be involved in the lives of a number of Ferelden's most noted citizens. Although she is most associated with the Korcari Wilds to the south of that nation, tales of her have reached much farther afield: stories of her are sung as far north as Antiva, and the Seekers of Truth know she is more than just a legend.

*

Dear Maker, how may spiders and animated corpses could one mountain hold? They fought their way through and out of the caves to emerge near the summit of Sundermount. Cairns and dolmens of elven graves dotted the landscape, the front of each grave holding blue flame in a jar. A strange blue barrier shimmered bewteen two upright stones and blocked the way to the graveyard.

"I can open the way forward," said Merrill, striding forward to the barrier and removing a dagger from her beld. Before Hawke or anyone else had a chance to stop her, Merrill slashed her forearm with the dagger and sprayed her blood against the barrier. It shimmered and dissolved in a flash of red light.

"Blood magic? Foolish, very foolish," said Fenris, shaking his head.

"Yes, it was blood magic, but I know what I'm doing. The spirit helped us, didn't it?"

"Call it what it is," said Hawke. "You summoned a demon!"

"Demons are just spirits, like honour or joy. It's not their fault they are what they are. There's nothing inherently evil in blood magic. It's just magic, like any other."

"Ignore the tiger. Not its fault that it's going to eat you. Sound advice," muttered Fenris.

"Be careful up ahead. Restless things prowl the heights." Merrill walked through the open barrier, leaving Hawke and the others to follow. Hawke didn't quite know what to make of her. She seemed no normal, and yet she was a blood mage. Maybe Merrill wasn't as innocent and naive as she first appeared.

Merrill stopped on the brow of a small hill and nodded towards the graves."In the days of Arlathan, the elders came here to sleep. Uthenera. The endless dream, they called it. But they don't sleep peacefully any more." Merrill paused and surveyed the surrounding mountainside. "There's an altar just up ahead, place the amulet there and I will begin the rite."

"Is this rite blood magic too?" asked Hawke, his fingers clenched around the amulet so tight that his knuckles turned white.

"No. Not exactly," said Merrill, her eyes averted. "It's a spirit rite, a soul rite."

"Great," muttered Carver. "Not only are we in the witch's debt, now we have to bring a blood mage to Kirkwall too! Don't you ever get tired of helping everyone who asks for it, Brother?"

"We made a promise and we have to keep it," said Hawke. He marched towards the altar, ready to place the amulet there and get this over with, when the ground erupted with more skeletons, corpses, shades, shadow warriors and blocking his path to the altar was an arcane horror. Great, just great! Could this day get any worse? The sooner they were away from Sundermount the better.

Hawke and the others bounded into the fray, blades flashing, staves twirling, Fenris glowing blue as his markings activated. Fenris was a blue blur as he dispatched enemies left and right and Hawke was entranced by the way the elf moved. Every action was as graceful as a dance, no movements wasted as Fenris spun and twisted this way and that.

"Hawke! Look out!" screamed Varric, but it was too late. Hawke felt rather than saw the blade pierce his flesh; a shadow warrior had sneaked up behind him while Hawke had been staring at Fenris. Hawke crumpled to the ground, his leg giving way beneath him from the wound on the back of his thigh. Everything was looking a little grey and fuzzy round the edges. Hawke slid sideways, his eyelids drooping.

"Hawke!" Fenris screamed, rushing to his side and cradling Hawke on his lap. "Don't you dare die on me, Aemond Hawke! I won't allow it!"

"I can call on my spirit to help," said Merrill reaching for her dagger.

"No!" Fenris and Aveline screamed as one. "You will not heal him by blood magic."

"Carver, your belt," said Aveline, holding out her arm for it. Carver relinquished his belt and Aveline used it as a tourniquet by wrapping it around Hawke's thigh. Hawke winced and groaned in pain as she tightened the leather around his leg. It felt as if his whole leg was on fire, he even felt pain down in his bones.

"I don't feel so good," Hawke mumbled, turning over and vomiting onto the rocky ground.

"It's a shadow blade," said Merrill. "It will slowly poison him. Quick, Hawke, give me the amulet," said Merrill reaching out for it. Hawke gave it to her, wanting so much to sleep. Why were they here again? His mind was a blank and there was a sour taste in his mouth.

Dimly, he heard Merrill chanting something in elvish, but he couldn't understand a word of it. He could sense the words had power though, despite his lack of understanding. There was a flash of light from the amulet, casting a blaze of white over the altar and mountaintop. When it cleared, Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds stood there, gazing down at Merrill who sank to one knee. Merrill greeted Flemeth in elvish and Flemeth nodded.

"One of the people? I see. So young and bright. Do you know who I am beyond those titles?"

"I know only a little," said Merrill.

"Rise, child. The People bend their knee too quickly."

"A witch!" Fenris snapped, his whole body tensing up behind Hawke.

"Calm yourself, Fenris," said Aveline. "We know this woman. She helped us."

"You speak the word as if it is cheap coin," said Flemeth. "Tell me, what do you know of witches?"

"You are no simple witch," said Fenris.

"Figured that out yourself, did you?"

"I have seen powerful mages, spirits and abominations, but you are none of those things. What are you?"

"Such a curious lad. The chains are broken, but are you truly free?"

"You see a great deal." Fenris' arms tightened around Hawke's body, as if the words affected him a lot more than he was letting on.

"I am a fly in the ointment. I am a whisper in the shadows. I am also an old, old woman. More than that you need not know."

"Are we going to regret bringing her here?" asked Carver, from somewhere behind them.

"Regret is something I know well. Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poisons your soul." Flemeth paused, stroking her chin. "So refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of a bargain. I have expected my amulet to end up in a merchant's pocket."

Hawke laughed, then grunted in pain. "No one wanted to buy it. Maybe because there was a witch inside."

"Just a piece. A very small piece. But it was all I needed. A bit of security should the inevitable occur and if I know my Morrigan, it already has."

"Is that someone I should know?"

"She's a girl who thinks she knows what is what better than I or anyone." Flemeth cackled. "And why not? I raised her to be as she is. I cannot expect her to be less."

"I'm not sure whether she's your enemy or your daughter."

"Neither is she."

"Why did you need me to bring you here?" Hawke asked, frowning.

"Because I had an appointment to keep and I didn't want to be followed. You smuggled me here quite nicely, thank you."

"I don't understand. Are you some kind of vision?"

Flemeth laughed again, throwing her head back. "Must I be only in one place at a time? Human bodies can be so restrictive, can't they? I am but a fragment cast adrift from the whole, a bit of flotsam to cling to in the storm."

"A fragment?" Hawke asked, coughing up blood as he finished.

"You do not need to understand, child. Know only that you may have saved my life as I once saved yours. An even trade, I think."

"Do you think you could do it again?" Hawke asked, trying to grin but grimacing instead.

"Ah, I wondered if you would ask. I cannot help those who do not ask first." Flemeth approached and laid her hands above Hawke's thigh. "Hmm, a shadow blade? This holds no problem for me. Close your eyes, child. You feel very sleepy, your eyelids are getting heavier and heavier."

*

"You could have told me what we were facing," Hawke said once he had recovered his senses. He didn't know what Flemeth had done, but his leg was whole again, and he no longer felt any of the shadow blade's poisonous effects. He felt like he'd just woken from a very refreshing sleep, even his clothes were mended of the tear the shadow warrior had made in his breeches.

"Did I trick you? I asked you to deliver the amulet and you did. If I thought it such an easy task I might have asked anyone. But I chose you, Aemond Hawke. You were chosen. You have succeeded where others have not."

"You have plans, I take it?"

"Destiny awaits us both, dear boy. We have much to do. Before I go, a word of advice." Flemeth turned and raised her arms to the sky, her back to them. "We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss." Flemeth turned to face them once more. "Watch for that moment and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether or not you can fly."

"Cheap advice. From a dragon." Hawke grinned at her.

"We all have our challenges." Flemeth smiled, and then turned to Merrill, shaking her head. "As for you child, tread carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

"Thank you," said Merrill, bowing and adding something in elvish that Hawke didn't understand.

"Now the time has come for me to leave. Take care, Hawke. Maybe one day we might meet again. I'll look forward to it."

Hawke wasn't entirely sure he'd look forward to it. Both times he had met her, he'd been in danger for his life.

"You have my thanks, and my sympathy." There was a flash of orange light as Flemeth shape-changed into her dragon form. Her wings buffeted them as she swooped over the edge of the mountain and away.

"We should head back to camp and then onto Kirkwall," said Merrill. "I don't want to remain here any longer than we need to."

"The sooner we get off this mountain, the better," said Varric. "Dwarves aren't natural climbers."

"Sounds good to me," said Hawke, as he turned and led the way to the caves.

*

They made camp by the banks of a small pool. A waterfall tumbled over the rocks of Sundermount and churned up the water below. Fenris could feel the blood mage staring at him the whole time as they walked from the Dalish camp.

"You've never met a Dalish before, have you, Fenris?" she asked, all wide-eyed innocence, or pretend innocence which Fenris thought was probably nearer the mark.

"I wouldn't know," he replied tersely, unwilling to discuss his past life as a slave with her.

"Oh, I think you would know. The Dalish elves aren't like those in the city."

"No, the smug sense of superiority does tend to give you away."

Merrill's mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, as if he wasn't sure quite how to respond to such an insult.

"But surely your people must have heard tales of the Dalish?" Merrill seemed intent on her folly.

"My people?"

"The elves in Tevinter."

"Merrill, I think you should stop talking now," said Carver. "Fenris doesn't want to talk about it."

"Talk about what?" Merrill's eyes widened. "There are elves in Tevinter, aren't there? They must have heard of us."

"They may well have heard of you, they probably just don't care. Just like I don't. Elves in Tevinter are slaves, nothing more."

"Slaves? But if they ran away the Dalish would help them."

"Would they?" snarled Fenris. "Like we were so welcomed at your camp? Those hunters would have happily ripped our throats out."

"That's not true!" protested Merrill. "The Dalish are a friendly people."

"Really?" said Carver. "They weren't so friendly to you either, Merrill, and you were one of them. Maybe you're too close to see what they're really like. They're warriors and against anyone who isn't one of them."

"I think it's time we turned in," said Hawke. "Will there be enough room for Merrill in your tent, Aveline?"

"Of course," said Aveline, smiling fondly in Merrill's direction. Fenris didn't understand how any of them could be so courteous to a blood mage. Didn't they know what she was? What she was capable of? Maybe the demon had possessed her already and this innocent act was just that: an act to get them to lower their guard around it. Fenris wasn't fooled. He would watch her closely and if she made any attempt to hurt any one of them, Fenris would be ready to take her down.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen

*

Codex Entry: Kirkwall The Elven Alienage

Lowtown is home to a squalid elven alienage. Here, like in most Thedas alienages, elves are packed into tiny rundown apartments and effectively segregated from the human population. Kirkwall's alienage is even more dilapidated than the rest of Lowtown, but the elves go to great lengths keeping the place looking bright and festive. The vhenadahl ("Tree of the People") standing in the middle of the alienage is a symbol for elven pride and shared cultural identity, and it is lovingly cared for.

It's difficult to say if the elves would continue confining themselves to the alienage if they were given the chance to mingle. They may not admit it, but some feel that living among their kind is far better than living with humans, no matter how terrible alienage life may be.

—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi.

*

Once they were back in Kirkwall, Varric led them all to the alienage, as Hawke hadn't been there before. "Must we come here?" Fenris muttered, close to his ear. "I hate these alienages."

When they reached the small elven marketplace in the square, Merrill stared around her at the dilapidated houses and buildings in abject horror. The vhenadhal tree was the most festive thing there; the base of it brightened by flickering blue lamps placed in front of it and colourful ribbons fluttered in the upper branches. Smoke belched from the chimneys in the nearby foundry district, covering everything in a light layer of grey ash and making the air hazy.

"Is this really where the elves live?" asked Merrill, eyes wide.

"Yes, this is it," said Fenris. "What did you expect? A marble palace with servants to cater to your every whim?"

"It's not all bad, Daisy," said Varric. "At least it doesn't have a view of the giant chains. And it's not Darktown. You don't want to be an elf in Darktown. Living here will be fun, you'll see."

"It's so crowded! I've never seen so many people in one place before. But everyone seems – I don't know – everyone seems so lonely."

"You already know us," said Hawke, giving her what he hoped was a comforting smile. "And you'll make other friends soon enough."

Merrill stared at Hawke for a moment then bowed, placing her left hand across her chest in what Hawke guessed was some sort of elven custom. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, Hawke. I won't forget how much you've all done for me. Will you come and visit me? Not now, of course. When I get settled, I mean. I feel so adrift here."

"Of course I'll visit you, Merrill, but only because you used those puppy eyes on me. I'm a sucker for puppy eyes and the lower lip tremble."

"So true," said Varric chuckling, giving a sideways glance to Fenris. Hawke hoped Fenris hadn't noticed. He didn't think Fenris would be amused if he was told he too had puppy eyes, especially when he looked at Hawke. It made Hawke's heart flutter every time he saw those green eyes gaze fondly at him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a templar uniform and took a deep breath, hoping the man wouldn't notice him or Merrill. Perhaps they could get away with pretending their staves were walking sticks, but he would prefer not to come to the notice of any templar if he could help it. The red-haired templar knight seemed to be in a heated discussion with a sandy-haired elven woman.

"Please, Ser Thrask," said the woman, wringing her hands. "I don't know where my son is, I swear."

"I can only show him mercy if he turns himself into the Circle. Apostates cannot be allowed to roam free at will. Mages are dangerous."

"I will send him to you if I find him, I promise," said the woman. Ser Thrask nodded and headed for the steps to take him out of the alienage. Once Hawke was sure the templar was gone, he made his way over to the woman.

"Mistress, are you all right? I couldn't help overhear about your son. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You heard all of that and still you would help? An apostate? Thank you. My name is Arianni. My boy, Feynriel, he's all I have, all my family. When I learned he had magic, I could not bear to send him to the Circle. But his connection to the Fade gives him nightmares, dreams of demons speaking in his mind. I would rather lose him to the Circle than to himself."

"Did your son run away?"

"He learned I had contacted Ser Thrask. He felt I had betrayed his trust."

"He should be free to live his own life, free from the shackles of the Circle. We all should," said Merrill.

"Don't coddle this boy," snapped Fenris. "If he is mage, he's dangerous and belongs in the Circle."

"He thinks he can live free of the Circle," Arianni continued. "But I am afraid that without proper training he'll kill himself."

"Those look like Dalish tattoos. Why do you live in the city?" asked Merrill

"I was born to the Dalish, but came to Kirkwall for a time and... dallied with a human merchant, Vincento. When I discovered I was with child, neither Vicento nor my tribe wished the burden of an elf blooded human infant. I raised Feynriel myself, here in the alienage. He's all I have, all my family."

"Tell me the whole story," suggested Hawke.

"I learned years ago that my son likely had magical talent. But we could not bear the thought of him locked in the Gallows, so we hid. When the nightmares began, Feynriel still refused to go to the Circle. But I truly think they are the only people who can save his life."

"What kind of dreams is he having?"

"He dreams of demons calling to him, pulling him into their world. Every day it gets harder and harder to wake him and I'm afraid that one day he just won't wake up. That is why I turned to the Circle. They are the only ones who can protect a mage from his own power. I'm so scared for him, ser."

"What exactly do you need me to do?"

"Just find him, please. Bring him somewhere safe. I don't know where Feynriel has gone, but there are two places you might start your search. His father Vincento is a merchant in the Lowtown Bazaar, recently returned from Antiva. Feynriel may have sought him out. Ser Thrask has also been looking for him. If you speak to him in the Gallows, he'll be able to tell you what ground he's already covered." Arianni's eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

"You and Feynriel's father are not married?" asked Merrill.

"No. Vincento had no desire for a wife or an elf blooded child. Or at least that's what he told me. He has since married but still he denies he even has a son. I haven't seen him since the day I told him of Feynriel's birth."

"Some people just aren't build for family life," said Isabela, shrugging her shoulders."At least Feynriel has a mother who cares for him."

"I have written to Vincento, though, to keep him informed about his child. Feynriel has always wanted to meet him, but Vincento never replied to any letters. He just pretends Feynriel doesn't exist. Or that he is anything to do with Vincento. He claimed I lied, when I said the child was his. But I've never... not with anyone else. I know Vincento is Feynriel's father, but he refuses to acknowledge him. I don't know who to turn to."

"Tell me about this templar," said Hawke, surprised that Ser Thrask hadn't arrested Arianni for harbouring a mage already.

"I believe Ser Thrask to be a good man. He doesn't hate mages, but sees what it took me too long to realise. Even the best intentioned mages are at the mercy of their sleeping mind. There are other templars who are much less sympathetic. There's one who stalks the alienage at night, looking for mages or mage sympathisers. Ser Kerras is his name and he inspires fear in everyone here."

"My husband was a templar," said Aveline. "They are not all fanatics to be feared."

"We will search for Feynriel as soon as we can. We will not leave you fearful for a moment longer than necessary," said Hawke.

"Thank you. It has been a lonely time hiding. It's almost a relief to confront this openly. Feynriel may never forgive me for this. But I'd rather he be alive and furious than dead and buried."

"Why don't you come in and have a cup of tea?" suggested Merrill. "Hawke and the others will let us know as soon as they learn anything."

"Oh, yes, thank you. A cup of tea would be lovely." Merrill led Arianni by the hand and to the door of her own new house, leaving the rest of them standing in the middle of the marketplace.

"We can visit Vincento before we go to the Gallows," said Varric. "And Lirene's shop is near the Bazaar too. Two birds with one stone. Or did you want to do the Gallows first?" asked Varric.

"Hawke, you need to rest!" protested Fenris. "You almost died and here you are helping people again with no thought to your own needs! Someone needs to look after you for a change."

"Are you volunteering for that duty?" Hawke waggled his eyebrows.

"Arrgh, you're impossible!" said Fenris raising his hands in the air.

"Broody does have a point," said Varric. "Look, I've a few things to take care of. How about we see Vincento and Lirene and after that Hawke gets some rest and we can meet up at the Hanged Man at two bells, how does that sound?"

"That is agreeable," said Fenris, before Hawke had a chance to reply. Hawke felt fine now, he didn't need to rest, but he also didn't want to get on Fenris' bad side. That might end up with his heart on the wrong side of Fenris' fist.

"I'll walk with you to Vincento's stall, but then I have to get back to the Barracks for my next shift. I'll tell Jeven about those bandits on the Wounded Coast as well; he'll want to know."

"You all seem to have this under control. I'll leave you to it, I have to go and see a man about a dog," said Isabela and sauntered off, hips swaying.

"Is Isabela looking to purchase a canine?" asked Fenris.

"Er, no," said Hawke. "It's just an expression. She just has things to do."

"And I told Faith I'd come and see her," said Carver. "Unless you need me at the Gallows, Brother?"

"No, we'll be fine, Carver. Give Faith our love, won't you?" Hawke couldn't resist teasing him and was gratified at seeing Carver's blush. Carver stalked off muttering something under his breath that none of them could hear. "Right, off to Vincento's, is it?"

Vincento had one of the smaller stalls, but it was in a good position, right opposite the Hightown steps, ready to ensnare any noble who had wandered down to Lowtown by mistake. Vincento's clothes were clean, well-kept, but of a poorer quality than you would see in Hightown. His eyes lit on Fenris' two-handled sword. "You strike me as a man who would welcome the best Antivan steel to grace his hand," said Vincento, in the lilting accent of Antiva. It almost sounded like song.

"Then you would be wrong," said Fenris sharply. "We are not here to shop."

"We are here to talk about your son, Feynriel," said Hawke.

Vincento's brown eyes widened. "I have not had that privilege yet, serah. My poor wife is back in Antiva, she is lonely with all the travel I do for work."

"Really?" asked Aveline, raising her eyebrows. "That's the best you could do with a guard standing right here? Obstructing an investigation can get you a night in the cells, you know."

"Investigation? What investigation?"

"Your son is missing," said Hawke. "If you care at all for him, please help us find him. Did he seek you out? He knows you're his father."

"No, I have not seen him," replied Vincento. "Please, serah, there is no one in Kirkwall who is a friend to an elf blood mageling. I don't know where he would have gone. That is the truth, I swear it."

Hawke nodded, it didn't look like they would get any more information out of Vincento. They'd have to brave the Gallows after all, not something he was looking forward to.

Once they’d left Vincento's stall, Varric led the way to Lirene's store. The space inside was crowded with refugees, some crying, some wailing and some just sitting staring at the walls.

Hawke guessed Lirene was the dark-haired woman behind a counter at the back trying her best to keep order.

"If you're seeking aid, leave your name with my girl," she said as Hawke and his companions approached. "We serve everyone here. No one came from Ferelden without trouble. But I can't give priority to anyone who's already found work and lodging."

"Is there any way I can help?" asked Hawke, knowing that if it hadn't been for Varric and his uncle, they too could have been one of those refugees staring at the walls.

"If you have any coin to spare, we do have a donation box right over there. All the profits from the sale of our goods also to to help the refugees. Anything else?"

"I hear you know where I can find a Grey Warden?"

"A Grey Warden?" Lirene asked suspiciously. "The only Grey Warden I know is sitting on the throne in Ferelden. Anyway, we're out of the Blight's path now, why would you need a Grey Warden?"

A young woman approached and nodded to Lirene. "The healer was one of them once, wasn't he? A Warden?"

"Well, he's not now," snapped Lirene. "And busy enough without asking foolish questions about it."

"Who are you protecting?" asked Hawke.

"You see what our people face in Kirkwall. They have no jobs, no homes, most can barely buy bread. This healer, he serves them without thought for coin. He's closed their wounds, delivered their children."

"And yet he needs to hide?" asked Aveline.

"He's a good man. I won't lose him to the blighted templars."

"You mean he's a mage?" Hawke asked, surprised.

"Would I stick my neck out for some purveyor of hensbane and leeches?"

"Your healer is no danger from me," said Hawke.

"He doesn't want to be locked in the Gallows just for using the gifts the Maker gave him."

"If this man is an apostate, the templars will find him," said Aveline.

"No man should suffer for an accident of birth, Aveline," said Hawke. "Or are you going to be the one to turn me in?"

"Hawke, no, I didn't mean..."

"Didn't you? Did you forget what I am or do you just pretend that it doesn't matter?"

Aveline had no answer to that.

"I suppose it isn't my secret to keep. Anders has certainly been free enough with his services. Refugees in Darktown know... to find the healer, look for the lit lantern. If you have need enough, Anders will be within," said Lirene.

"Thank you," said Hawke. "We will not turn him in, I swear it."

Just then, the door opened and a girl about fourteen or fifteen hobbled in, her arms wrapped around who could only be her mother, for they were so alike in looks. Both dark-haired and blue-eyed and both with skin as pale as parchment. The woman was pregnant and one arm was held protectively over her belly. Blood splattered the floor beneath her.

"Please, can someone help my mother? The baby, it's come too early! Please don't let her lose another one."

"Marissa," said Lirene to one of her helpers. "Go and fetch Anders at once, tell him to hurry."

"I think it's too late for that," said Fenris. "She is in labour now and this babe is going to be born soon."

"And what would you know of it?" demanded Lirene. "How many babies have you delivered, serah?"

"Fifteen at the last count."

Hawke gaped at Fenris. "You've delivered babies?"

"Yes. Danarius would never pay money for a midwife when a salve could do it for free."

"Um." Hawke wondered how best to word his next sentence. "Weren't there female slaves who could do it?"

"Tevinter is a very superstitious country," replied Fenris. "The women did not want to attend any births. They believed that if they helped, then they would be the next one pregnant and being pregnant in that household was not pleasant." Fenris tugged on Hawke's arm and moved so that they were out of earshot of the others. "Some of the magisters, some of Danarius' friends, they liked – they liked pregnant women. It was a fetish for them and Danarius bred the women for just that purpose. He sold the children to other slavers, none ever stayed with their mothers. But you're a healer, Hawke, surely you've delivered children before?"

"No, Ferelden was the complete opposite. Men were allowed nowhere near the birthing chamber. But between the two of us, we should be able to manage, shouldn't we?"

Fenris nodded. "We can certainly try."

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: Darktown

*

Darktown was once a mine controlled by the Tevinter Imperium. Once exhausted, the mineshafts were extended under the city to dispose of sewage from Kirkwall's overcrowded population of slaves.

Unsurprisingly, the tunnels became a refuge for those fleeing captivity. A similar trend continues today. The "Undercity," as some call it, is home to the diseased, the insane, to criminals, and even the dead—unwanted corpses are often discarded here by murderers and lazy undertakers.

Darktown's slums makes Lowtown look pleasant in comparison. The foul miasma known as chokedamp clogs and swells in every corner of the Darktown, creating a poisonous mist. Its sewers are a dangerous place. The walls are damp, slick, and coated with phosphorescent lichen. The sewer is a maze, and one foolish enough to enter is not likely to be heard from again.

—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi

*

Chapter Sixteen

Lirene let them use the back room for the upcoming birth. It was sparsely furnished with a single bed and a crate beside it holding a candle. "Hawke, can you cast a protection spell and a sterilising spell on the bedding? There's going to be a lot of blood," said Fenris and then turned to the pregnant woman. "What's your name?"

"Lianna," said the expectant mother. "And my daughter, Kari." Kari nodded and dipped a curtsey, as if they were some sort of nobles.

Hawke cast the spells Fenris had requested, but not before seeing Fenris wince. He didn't know whether it was because the magic had pained him, or just because it was magic at all and Fenris didn't want it anywhere near him.

"Lianna, I need you to sit down on the bed for me, sideways on. Kari, can you sit behind your mother and support her back?"

"I can do that," said Kari, scrambling up the bed and into position, resting her back against the wall.

"Shouldn't she be lying down?" asked Hawke, although he didn't really know.

"It will be easier if she's upright, gravity can give us a hand," said Fenris as he knelt down in front of Lianna. "I'm going to have to examine you now, see how dilated the cervix is."

Lianna nodded. "I've birthed five children before, but only one of them lived. Please, serah, save my baby."

Hawke had only a vague idea of a woman's anatomy from the talk his father had given him when he'd turned fourteen, although Hawke himself had not actually entered puberty until he'd turned seventeen and his parents had worried there was something wrong with him. A few months after his seventeenth birthday, he'd shot up like a weed, overtaking his father in height and his voice had dropped dramatically. Hawke wasn't even sure he remembered much of that talk regarding where babies came from and he worried he wasn't going to be able to help Fenris at all.

He watched in awe as Fenris took charge of everything, even sending Marissa and Lirene on an errand to fetch towels and hot water when they entered the room. Hawke nodded. "That's good. I know you need towels and hot water for a birth."

Lianna and Fenris both laughed. "That's not the reason, serah," said Lianna. "It's to keep people out of the way when they would be more of a hindrance than a help. It just gives them something to do." Fenris removed the red riboon from his wrist and placed it in the purse at his waist. Hawke wondered if he should tease Fenris later about how fondly he'd glanced at it before he put it away.

"But a towel will be handy once the baby's born to keep it warm," said Fenris, leaning down and fumbling beneath Lianna's skirts. Lianna's thighs were streaked with blood and she was panting harshly. "Hawke, can you time the contractions for me?"

Hawke nodded and started timing from the next one as Fenris examined the patient. "Just under three minutes," said Hawke.

"You're almost fully dilated, it won't be long now," said Fenris in a comforting tone. "How long ago did your waters break?"

"About an hour?" Lianna glanced around at her daughter.

Kari nodded. "That sounds about right."

"Push with the next contraction," said Fenris. "I can just feel the head."

Lianna nodded. A few moments later she grunted and moaned through the pain and bore down, her face flushed and sweaty.

The birth lasted for over an hour, and Hawke was amazed at Fenris' calm control of the situation.

"Push, Lianna, push!" Fenris ordered.

"I can't! I can't!" she wailed.

"Yes, you can," said Fenris. "We're all here to help you. Come on, Kari wants to meet her new brother or sister. Push, you've got to push."

Lianna's hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat and she leaned her head back against Kari. "I can't do it! Please, make it stop! Make it stop! I want to go home!"

"Soon, Lianna, it'll be over soon. Hawke, can you help Lianna with the pain? Just ease it a bit, she still needs to feel the contractions to know when to push."

Hawke nodded and cast a mild healing spell over Lianna. Her eyes went a bit glassy, but she nodded and whispered her thanks to Hawke. Fenris stood up, his arms covered in blood from finger to elbow and beckoned Hawke aside. "The baby's head is almost out, but the cord is wrapped around its neck. I will support the head and I need you to gently ease the cord away from the neck, can you do that?"

Hawke nodded, feeling slightly sick. He didn't want to be the one responsible for Lianna losing another child. It was a terrible responsibility, but he and Fenris were the only ones here and they had to do it. They had to help. Hawke and Fenris knelt down on the floor between Lianna's legs.

"Right, Lianna, one last push. The head it almost out. Hawke, get ready," said Fenris as he eased his hands back into the birth canal. "Come on, Lianna. Push! Push!" ordered Fenris. Lianna obeyed, her chin resting on her chest as she pushed with all her might.

Hawke saw a shock of dark hair as Fenris cradled the baby's head as it emerged. "Now, Hawke!"

Hawke wasted no time and quickly unwound the cord from around the baby's neck, feeling it pulse with life in his hand. Fenris was still ordering Lianna to push and soon the rest of the baby slithered out and into Fenris' waiting hands. The baby was small, much smaller than Hawke had been expecting. It was still, too still and turning blue rather than red. Fenris scooped out blood and fluid from the baby's mouth and then pressed his mouth over the baby's mouth and nose. A few more breaths from Fenris and the child's chest was rising and falling, the baby squirming in Fenris' arms.

When Fenris lifted his mouth away, the baby let out a shrill shriek and bawled with all his might, his little hands making fists. "It's a boy," said Fenris. "You have a son."

Kari and Lianna were both crying now, Lianna holding out her arms for her baby. "Hawke, we need something to cut the cord," said Fenris, still cradling the baby and seeming very reluctant to let him go.

"I can use a severing spell, it'll stop the bleeding too."

Fenris nodded and waited until the cord was cut before handing the baby boy over to his mother. Lianna didn't seem to care about the mess, just that she had a baby alive in her arms.

"Thank you, serah," said Lianna. "Thank you both. I don't think my son would be here if it wasn't for you."

"You're very welcome," said Fenris just as Lirene and Marissa returned, one of them carrying a kettle of hot water and the other carrying a stack of raggedy towels.

"Excellent," said Fenris. "Time for baby's first wash, I think."

*

"You were amazing Fenris," said Hawke as he, Fenris and Varric made their way to Darktown to see the healer. They thought it best to see him before going to the Gallows, so that they could tell him about Lianna and her newborn. Fenris thought it best Lianna should stay at Lirene's until the healer could see her there as he wasn't sure she should be travelling anywhere straight after giving birth. "I was a total wreck in there. You were so calm and collected."

"It's just experience, Hawke. Now that you've helped deliver one baby, the next one won't be so scary."

"I'm not so sure about that," said Hawke. "I think I'll stick to treating broken legs and colds."

"You're a much better healer than that, Hawke. You saved my life," Fenris said softly.

"And you saved Lianna and her child. It was fascinating to watch. I am in awe of you."

Fenris blushed and hid his head.

"We're here," said Varric, nodding towards the lit lantern in front of one of the doors.

The door was slightly ajar, Hawke pushed it open and ventured inside, the others following him. The room had been set up as a makeshift clinic, with tables doing double duty as beds for the patients. A little boy was lying down on one of the tables, a ball of blue energy hovering above him. At the head of the table stood the mage who must be the healer. His clothes were worn and travel-stained and he had a few day's worth of stubble on his chin. His face was drawn and haggard as he concentrated hard on curing the boy in his care. He had strawberry blond hair and brown eyes, which glanced at them suspiciously, be he kept on healing the boy rather than confront them.

The boy's eyes opened and he sat up, his parents rushing to embrace the healer. Anders reached for his staff and waved it at them, his eyes glowing blue for second, or maybe Hawke had imagined that. "I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation, why do you threaten it?"

"We mean you no harm," said Hawke. "We're just here to talk. We're planning an expedition into the Deep Roads."

"And rumour has it you were a warden once," said Varric. "Do you know a way we can get into the Deep Roads?"

"Did the Wardens send you to bring me back? Well, I'm not going. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat. Poor Ser Pounce-a-Lot. He hated the Deep Roads."

"You had a cat in the Deep Roads called Ser Pounce-a-Lot?" asked Hawke, raising his eyebrows.

"It was a gift. A noble beast. Nearly got ripped in half by a genlock once. He swatted the bugger on the nose, drew blood too. The blighted wardens said he made me too soft. I had to give him to a friend in Amaranthine."

"So you came to Kirkwall just to escape the Wardens?"

"You say that like it's a small thing. Yes, I'm here because there's no Warden outpost, no darkspawn, and a whole host of refugees to blend in with. And some reasons of my own."

"I've always heard that joining the Wardens is for life."

"That's only partly true. The hopelessly tainted by the darkspawn and plagued by nightmares about the archdemon parts don't go away. But it turns out if you hide well, you don't have to wear the uniform or go to the parties."

"We need help getting into the Deep Roads. Any information you give us could help save lives," said Hawke.

"I'll die a happy man if I never have to see the Deep Roads again. You can't imagine what I've been through to get here. I'm not interested. Unless..." Anders paused and rubbed his chin."...a favour for a favour? Does that sound like a fair deal?"

"Agreed," said Hawke before the others could answer.

"You don't ask for my terms. What if I told you I wanted the Knight-Commander's head on a spike?"

"Is that what you ask?"

"You decide," said Anders, smirking. "I have a Warden map of the depths in this area, but there's a price. I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage. A prisoner in the wretched Gallows. The templars learned of my plans to free him. Help me bring him safely past them and you shall have your maps."

"Tell me about your friend."

"His name is Karl Fekler. He was sent here from Ferelden when Kirkwall's Circle required new talent. His last letter said the Knight-Commander was turning the Circle into a prison. Mages are locked in their cells, refused appearances at court, made tranquil for the slightest infraction of the rules. I told him I would help him."

"Are these accusations true?" asked Hawke.

"Ask any mage in Kirkwall. Over a dozen were made tranquil just last month. The more people you ask, the worse the rumours become."

"What do the templars know of your plan?"

"I don't know. I had been exchanging notes with Karl through a maidservant in the Gallows. Then the letters stopped coming."

"How do you plan to break him out of the Gallows? We can't just wander in and free him."

"I'm hoping it won't come to that. I sent Karl a message to meet me in the Chantry tonight. Maker willing, he'll be there but if there are templars there, I swear I'll free him from them, whatever the cost."

"Making your friend an apostate might not be the best idea," said. Hawke.

"That's such a weighted term. Yes, Andraste said that magic should serve man, not rule over him. But I've yet to meet a mage that wants to rule anything. It goes against no will of the Maker for mages to live as free as other men."

"Forcing mages into servitude is not the way to prevent the rise of another Imperium," said Hawke.

"That's not usually the response I get. Maybe we will work together better than I expected," said Anders, smiling.

"Letting them do as they please is hardly a better path," said Fenris. "The Divine would take a different view."

"The Divine is only a mouthpiece for the Chantry. The Maker does not speak through her," protested Anders.

"She doesn't speak through you, either." Fenris glowered at Anders.

"Mages fall prey to demons, we can't deny that," said Hawke. "The Chantry can't trust us with the same freedoms as normal men. It doesn't mean we have to like it."

"And who are you to decide that how the Maker created me isn't 'normal'?" demanded Anders.

"It certainly isn't superior," said Fenris.

"Would 'equal' be too much to ask for?"

"You're asking the wrong person, mage," said Fenris, sneering.

"You are a mage yourself. I feel the power in you? How can you say we need to be locked up?" Anders turned to Hawke.

"Because sometimes it's true?" said Hawke. "Abominations cannot be allowed to roam free."

"So you would lock us all up on the off chance that we might fall prey to a demon? I know, why don't we cut off people's hands in case they might be tempted to steal things?"

"Now you're just being ridiculous!" said Fenris, riaising his hands in the air.

"Can we all just agree to disagree for the moment?" asked Varric.

Anders shook his head. "I do not seek debate, just your aid. These are my terms. If you want to help, meet me in the Chantry tonight and Maker willing we'll all leave as free men."

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: History of Kirkwall Chapter Two

As the Imperium's borders slowly receded after the devastation of the First Blight and the subsequently barbarian invasion, many outposts in the area known today as the Free Marches, were cut off from centres of power. Numerous warlords tried consolidating the region into a single kingdom, but resistance prevailed. Emerius held out for almost a century before it fell to a slave revolt in 25 Ancient. It was not the first of such revolt Emerius suffered but it was the last.

It started when an Alamarri slave named Radun began earning popularity and power by pushing for better conditions. Radun's growing influence prevented the magisters from touching him, but eventually they had him poisoned. Furious, a group of Radun's supporters stormed the gallows and were massacred, and so began a bloody yearlong rebellion.

The city burned, and wealthy Hightown was sacked. The magisters hung before cheering crowds. Emerius assumed the new name of Kirkwall, "kirk" meaning "black", after its jet stone cliffs. The new city plunged into anarchy for over a decade, and its defences fell into ruin. Kirkwall has been conquered many times since, the city's own independence suffering since the freeing of its slaves.

—From Kirkwall: the City of Chains, by Brother Genitivi, 9:24 Dragon

*

Chapter Seventeen

After the visit to the Darktown clinic, Hawke was all for going to the Gallows straight away, but Fenris was having none of it. Hawke needed looking after as well as all the citizens of Kirkwall and if Hawke wouldn't look out for his own welfare, then Fenris would. Hawke was so considerate of other people that he neglected his own health. Anders had promised he would look in on Lianna and her newborn at Lirene's. Fenris hoped everything would be all right with them. The baby had been so small. Tem tiny fingers. Ten tiny toes and eyes that seemed to stare right down to Fenris' very soul. Something tugged at his memory but it was lost before it had even formed.

"We're going to the Mermaid's Pool and then you are going home to rest for a few years," said Fenris firmly. "We need a bath anyway."

"You want me to rest for a few years?" asked Hawke, chuckling.

"Hours. I meant hours," said Fenris, feeling rather flustered, as he always was these days in close proximity to Hawke. He hoped the others didn't notice his blush.

"You two have fun," said Varric. "We're still up for meeting at two bells later?"

"Make it three bells," said Fenris. "Hawke does need to rest."

"Yes, Mother," said Hawke, playfully nudging Fenris with his elbow. "It looks like I'll have to be on my best behaviour today, Varric."

"Now, you be good for Broody, Hawke," said Varric, wagging his finger at Hawke and grinning like a fool.

"Varric, you wound me. I'm always good." Hawke's lopsided grin made Fenris' heart flutter in his chest. How could a smile from Hawke disarm him so?

"Ha!" said Varric. "I'll believe that when I see it. Take care. I'll see you both later."

*

Hawke did his usual trick of getting the proprietor of the bath house to let them have some privacy in the bathing room and Fenris sometimes wondered if this was a common practice for lovers who wanted some time alone together.

Fenris sank into the water and sighed as the warm water eased his aching muscles. He'd been kneeling on the floor for quite some time as he'd helped Lianna with the delivery of her baby. Fenris scooped up some soap and began washing his arms, his mind going to the other thing that was bothering him today.

"Hawke, do you really intend to keep visiting that blood mage?"

Hawke glanced over at him, his eyebrows raised so far up they almost became part of his hairline.

"Merrill? I know she's a blood mage, and I'm not exactly happy with that fact, but she's also a young woman out on her own in a strange city. She's left her family, her clan, everything she used to be. I feel sorry for her, I just want to help her feel welcome. It's not easy leaving everything you've known behind and venturing to a strange place."

Fenris nodded. He and Hawke had both endured that, and Hawke's family had been nothing but welcoming to him. Would he really begrudge Hawke showing that consideration to someone else? It was in Hawke's nature to care for his friends and for the other unfortunate souls who crossed their path. Hawke was like a man who could never walk past if he saw some injustice being committed and a few times the others had to physically restrain him when Hawke would have intervened with templars dragging some poor unfortunate off to the Gallows. Hawke going into the fray would only have ended up with him in the Gallows instead, and the others weren't going to allow that to happen.

"I will watch her closely if she travels with us. I cannot pretend to be friends with a blood mage, Hawke. I have seen first hand the damage it can do and I cannot condone it for any reason. But I will not betray her to the templars, not when she is a friend of yours."

"You seem a bit more mellow these days where mages are concerned," said Hawke, turning round and placing his elbows on the side of the tub.

"I may have been too quick to judge," said Fenris. "And I am still wary. We still don't know much about this Anders. Why did he leave the Wardens? Was he kicked out for doing something wrong? You seem to see the good in everyone, Hawke. I'm not like that. The first thing I think of when I meet someone new is how can they hurt me?"

"That's not surprising," said Hawke. "But sometimes you just have to give people the benefit of the doubt."

*

At three bells they made their way to the Hanged Man, after Fenris finally convinced Hawke to go for a nap at Gamlen's house first. Fenris had threatened to tie him to the bed to make him rest, which made Hawke's eyes light up for some reason. Why would he want to be tied up?

At the tavern, Fenris was surprised to see Anders deep in conversation with Varric and Isabela. He hadn't expected to see the other mage until later that night when they would attempt to rescue his friend at the Chantry. Maker, what was he doing? Helping mages escape? His world had certainly turned on his head ever since he met Hawke and his friends.

"Anders, I didn't expect to see you here," said Hawke.

"I thought I'd tag along, if you don't mind. Get to see the Gallows for myself. Varric said you're looking for an elven mage who ran away. I'd like to help."

"The more the merrier," said Hawke, smiling at Anders and seeing that smile bestowed on someone else had Fenris gritting his teeth.

*

"Are you certain it's wise for you to be here?" asked Fenris once they'd left the boat.

"Maybe not, but we'll be cautious. I'm sure no one will notice little old me, don't worry. I don't think the templars will be surprised to see another mage here. We'll blend in."

"Very reassuring," Fenris said with a roll of his eyes and Hawke struggled not to laugh.

"I could throw a fireball or two, maybe that would help," said Anders.

"Probably best not to," said Hawke. "I'll try my best not to set the place on fire either, but it will be difficult."

"This place seems more like a prison. I wonder if it's more effective than the Circle I know." Fenris glanced around at the large bronze slave statues. Some were kneeling with their hands held out in supplication, others had their faces in their hands. "There are statues like these everywhere in the Imperium. They were built to show slaves they had no hope."

"What's the Circle like in Tevinter, then?" asked Anders. "I hear there the mages are free, like they should be."

"You speak of something you know nothing about!" Fenris growled. Hawke pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache which was threatening.

"Enlighten me, then," said Anders, frowning and folding his arms over his chest.

"Once upon a time the Circle in Tevinter was it was here. The Chantry watched the magisters for any signs of corruption or weakness. Then, it changed. The magisters were permitted to watch over their own and templars kept only to enforce the law. What happened next was inevitable. The magisters rule again, as powerful as they ever were," Fenris said bitterly.

"You said the Chantry used to watch the magisters, why did they stop?" asked Hawke.

"You must remember that the attitude towards magic is different in Tevinter. Mages came from wealthy families, bloodlines that had nurtured magical talent for countless generations. The Chantry was not trying to control poor peasants, but the scions of the greatest Houses of the Imperium."

"But I thought the magisters had been thrown down by the Chantry?"

"No, Hawke. On the contrary, Andraste never defeated the Imperium. Her great army conquered the south, but not the north. The magisters eventually surrendered to the Chantry, but they did so on their own terms. They kept their influence. Thus they reclaimed what they lost over the centuries. Some battles are lost by inches."

"You talk about the magisters as if they are all evil, surely that can't be true?" asked Hawke.

"Don't bother, Hawke," said Anders. "He won't listen to reason."

"I have no doubt that some are good and noble men, strong enough to resist temptation, but they are not the ones who rule in Tevinter. They are the ones murdered in their beds or by monsters in their dreams sent by other, more powerful magisters for political gain. But how many temptations do you wish on a man before he will give in? The good men either die or become the worst of their kind when they have been tempted beyond endurance. Blood magic is everywhere in Tevinter, from the lowliest apprentice to the archon himself."

"You can't have seen this for yourself," said Anders.

"Hmph! Danarius talked about it often. Of course, they say it's forbidden. But behind the smiles and the closed doors, however, it is a different matter. To be a magister in Tevinter is to be glorious. To be a powerful magister... that is worth any price."

"So you're saying the same thing could happen here?" asked Hawke.

"If the mages were permitted to be their own watchers, of course. It is too easy for a mage to resort to blood magic if they feel the need is great enough."

"As easy as it is to resort to a sword!" scoffed Anders. "You were created as a living weapon, should we lock you up too?"

"My powers are not controlled by a demon!" protested Fenris. "A mage can desire power, justice, revenge, protection...any cause will do and then they are lost, for there are demons who feed on these emotions all the time."

"Not all mages are like that," said Hawke. "You're saying we should all be locked up because of an accident of birth? None of us chose to have magic, Fenris. The ones that are lost should be dealt with, but leave the rest alone."

"That is the question, isn't it? Who should deal with them? All I am saying is that the Imperium offers no answer. All that Andraste did long ago to end the tyranny of magic has been undone."

"She ended the tyranny of magic and replaced it with an entirely new one," said Anders.

"Considering all that magic has done to my homeland and my race, I weep for your predicament," sneered Fenris.

"Tyranny of magic?" said Isabela. "Very dramatic."

"Let me show you my homeland and the ruins of Arlathan, and then you may speak of drama! Power corrupts, as they say, and mages have enough power already. Pah, I have said enough on the subject, let us go and find this templar."

"You can't treat every mage like a criminal," Hawke persisted.

"And some mages do not deserve the benefit of the doubt." Fenris glowered at Anders.

"And I suppose you're the one who gets to decide?" Anders accused.

"From what I've seen, the Circle can't really control mages anyhow," said Hawke.

"And what is the alternative? Another Imperium built on slavery and blood magic? Because that's what it would come to."

"Hawke, are you really going to stand there and let him demean everything we are?" demanded Anders.

"Enough!" snapped Hawke. "I'm getting a headache. Let us go and speak to Ser Thrask, I'm done arguing about this."

"But, Hawke!"

"I said that's enough, Anders! We'll just have to agree to disagree, I'm fed up talking about templars and mages." Hawke didn't lie, he did have a headache, but also a pain in his chest. How could Fenris kiss him in one moment and accuse him of becoming corrupted in the next? What was he even doing with Hawke if he thought mages were so awful anyway?

They found Ser Thrask standing be a set of steps leading up to the Circle tower. Hawke took a deep breath, glad he and Anders had left their staves behind in Varric's room. It wouldn't do to be caught with one here and no Circle marks on their faces; they would be arrested for apostates straight away.

"Ser Thrask? Arianni tells me you were looking for her boy, Feynriel?"

The templar nodded. "I didn't know Feynriel's plight was known so widely. Perhaps your friend knew him in the Alienage." Thrask nodded to Fenris.

"Not every elf lives in one of your cages, templar!" Fenris snapped and Hawke felt his head throb even more. This was going to be a long day.

"I meant no offence," said Ser Thrask. "Are you a friend of Feynriel?"

"We haven't met him, we are just trying to help Arianni find her son," said Hawke. "An untrained mage cannot be set loose in the city."

"I quite agree," said Fenris.

"You would," snarled Anders.

"This is a templar matter," said Thrask. "And we will look into it."

"We'd really like to help," said Hawke firmly. "Are you sure we can't help?"

Thrask stroked his beard. "It might be better for him if he was found by you and brought here. If he sees a templar, he'd probably be more likely to run. There is a templar – former templar, Samson, who left the Order due to...philosophical differences. I have heard rumours that he sometimes helps apostates escape the city. I don't know whether these rumours are even true, but it is a place to start. Maker knows I have had no success in tracking the boy down yet."

"Do you know where we might find him?"

"You can usually find him in Lowtown. He has a spot begging by the steps leading to Darktown. If he's not there, I'm not sure where else to suggest. I suppose if he has enough coin gathered, he might frequent one of the cheaper taverns there." Thrask shook his head. "I hope you find Feynriel soon. Either he will be taken by the demons or fall prey to other, less mystical predators. Kirkwall is not a safe city these days."

"Not every mage will fall prey to demons!" protested Anders. Hawke gave him a sharp look; now was not the time to go over this argument again. Had the man no sense? They were right in templar territory!

"Thank you, Ser Thrask. That has been a great help. Let's hope we find Feynriel safe and sound." Hawke turned on his heel and walked towards the docks. Anders caught up with him and grabbed his arm. "Are you really going to turn that boy over to the Circle? You'd betray your own kind?"

"The Circle is the best place for him. You hadn't seen his mother, Anders, how worried she was. She's afraid he'll die if he doesn't get help. And the Circle is the best place to get that help."

"How can you even say that? The Circle is a prison! The templars want to see us all in chains or tranquil. They're scared of us, of our power, that's why they want us under their control and you'd help them do it!"

"Anders, can we stop this now? We have to find Feynriel before something happens to him. We can decide about where he'll be safe later once we find him."

"Fine," said Anders and stepped into the boat to take them back to the city.

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: Hierarchy of the Circle

It is no simple matter, safeguarding ordinary men from mages, and mages from themselves. Each Circle tower must have some measure of self-government, for it is ever the Maker's will that men be given the power to take responsibility for our own actions: To sin and fail, as well as to achieve the highest grace and glory on our own strength.

You, who will be tasked with the protection of the Circle, must be aware of its workings. The first enchanter is the heart of any tower. He will determine the course his Circle will take, he will choose which apprentices may be tested and made full mages, and you will work most closely with him.

Assisting the first enchanter will be the senior enchanters, a small council of the most trusted and experienced magi in the tower. From this group, the next first enchanter is always chosen. Beneath the council are the enchanters. These are the teachers and mentors of the tower, and you must get to know them in order to keep your finger on the pulse of the Circle, for the enchanters will always know what is happening among the children.

All those who have passed their Harrowing but have not taken apprentices are mages. This is where most trouble in a Circle lies, in the idleness and inexperience of youth. The untested apprentices are the most numerous denizens of any tower, but they more often pose threats to themselves, due to their lack of training, than to anyone else.

--Knight-Commander Serain of the Chantry templars, in a letter to his successor.

*

Chapter Eighteen

Fenris settled into the boat beside Varric and Isabela. Anders had already claimed the spot on the bench in front, sitting next to Hawke. The two mages were deep in conversation about magic and healing, their arguments forgotten for the moment. Fenris felt a sharp pang beneath his breastbone as he watched the two of them with their heads close together. He would never be able to talk with Hawke about magic like that, not civilly anyway. Fenris' rants at the Gallows had proved that. Maybe Hawke had been wrong to say Fenris had mellowed in his attitude towards mages.

Fenris sighed and hunched over in his seat, feeling his world tilt sideways. Yes, there were good mages, mages with good intentions who wanted to help people rather than harm then. But that was the trouble, wasn't it? You could never tell the good from the bad, and in Fenris experience magic had always been used to harm, not help. Danarius would never have lifted a finger to help someone and more often than not, Danarius was the one who had caused the injury in the first place. Hawke himself was an example of a good mage and yet Fenris had still ranted about mages and how awful they were. His stomach hurt at the thought of it. Would Hawke see this as some sort of betrayal and want nothing more to do with him now? Fenris glanced down at the ribbon on his wrist and felt his throat and eyes sting with threatened tears. He blinked, hoping the others might think his watering eyes were due to the wind and spray coming from the water.

Fenris was trying his best to be open-minded, but it was so difficult with the memories of his past abuses, most caused by magic, haunting him every day and every night too. The nightmares hadn't abated even though Danarius was hopefully far from Kirkwall.

"I enjoy a man with markings like that," said Isabela close to his ear, her breath tickling his cheek.

"You've enjoyed many, I suspect," said Fenris.

Isabela laughed. "True enough! I do enjoy many things. Where I come from, they're called "tattoos." Sailors get them all the time."

"Haven't I told you already they aren't tattoos? And how many sailors do you know who have lyrium tattoos?"

"Not a one. And the pictures are different—usually breasts."

"I suppose a pair of lyrium breasts tattooed onto my chest would make things better."

"That's me. I'm a helper." Isabela grinned and nudged him in the ribs. "Is it just me or do you think Anders has a thing for our Hawke? Look how closely they're sitting together. Their thighs keep touching and Anders keeps patting Hawke on the arm."

Now that Isabela mentioned it, Anders did seem to be sitting in rather close proximity to Hawke, even though with only the two of them on the front bench, they had plenty of room. Fenris frowned and toyed with the ribbon on his wrist, gripping the loose part so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"You seem especially broody today," said Isabela.

"Does it bother you? Should I stop?"

"No, don't stop. But could you add some smouldering to the routine? Just for me?"

"Smoulder?"

"Oh, and while you're at it, perhaps some cold insolence."

"You want me to smoulder and be cold at the same time? Those don't go together..."

"Shush. Don't distract me with your logic."

"Just pout at her, Broody," said Varric. "It distracts her from the sea-sickness."

"You get sea-sick?" asked Fenris. "I thought you were a pirate?"

"Hey, pirates can get sea-sick too. But I'm fine today, the water's calm. And we have two healers on hand who can help with that." The way Isabela licked her lips gave Fenris the impression that she wasn't talking about healing spells.

Fenris grunted in pain as his markings flared for a brief, bright moment and Fenris was unsure of the cause. Was it jealousy at seeing Hawke and Anders so close, or at hearing Isabela's comments? Or perhaps it was just the excess mana from two powerful mages sitting in front of him. Fenris knew Hawke's mana by feel now, but Anders' mana felt different, as did Merrill's. Anders' mana didn't feel like either of those, there was something different about Anders' mana, but Fenris didn't know what that difference might be. His mana felt more like Merrill's than Hawke's, but it wasn't quite the same, so hopefully Anders wasn't another blood mage.

From what little Fenris knew of the man, Anders came across as selfish and arrogant. Holding his Deep Roads maps hostage unless they helped free another mage from the Circle. Anders seemed to have given no thought to the dangers they were in if caught and he didn't seem to care how many others he endangered on the Deep Roads expedition by not sharing the maps. Anders struck Fenris as the rush in foolishly type and damn the consequences.

Finally the boat tied up at the docks in Lowtown and they were able to get off the boat. The smell of fish from the fishing boats and the makeshift market stalls set up on the docks to sell it was so overpowering that Fenris felt himself gag. "Fish! Ugh," he muttered under his breath. He hated fish. They made his skin crawl, whether they were alive or dead. He hurried past the market stalls, trying not to look at the wares displayed there and the glassy eyes of dead fish.

"Carver, what are you doing here?" asked Hawke and Fenris glanced up. Carver was standing at the top of the steps and grinning at his big brother. "I thought you were off to see Faith?"

"I was, but she's busy now. I can tag along with you lot for a bit. Where are we off to anyway? Did you see Ser Thrask about Feynriel?"

"We did, we're looking for an ex-templar by the name of Samson, Thrask said he sometimes begs by the Darktown steps."

"Yeah, I think I'm seen a few times," said Carver. "Let's go and see what we can find out."

The five of them made their way through Lowtown, being greeted in a friendly manner by those they'd helped out already, and with scowls and slurs by those who thought the city should have closed the gates permanently.

"Varric, stop looking at me like that!" said Carver, hands on his hips.

"What's the trouble now, little Hawke?" asked Varric, smiling broadly.

"Don't call me that – just don't! It's you, you're looking for more fodder for those stupid stories."

"You think you're that interesting?"

"I have enough trouble being overshadowed as it is. I don't need need to get caught under an imaginary me too."

"Not to worry. I'm not in the habit of writing lullabies or children's stories. Maybe when you're older, I can let you read some."

"Maker, you have no idea," said Carver. "You have no idea what it's like to the one always in the shadows. The one people ignore, the one people forget even exists."

"Carver, Carver," said Varric, slapping Carver on the back. "You're looking at this all wrong. So, Hawke gets most of the attention, it happens a lot. I know what I'm talking about. I'm a professional younger brother. Trust me, the centre of attention's the worst place to be. When things go wrong, and they always do, that's where all the fingers point. Look at any kingdom in Thedas. You've got people who warm thrones, and people nobody sees who do the real work."

"So my brother is a king now? Just what he needed. As if his head isn't big enough."

"You brother does not have a big head," said Fenris. "He is a very humble man."

"I'm his brother," said Carver. "I think I might know him a bit better than you."

By that time they had reached the Darktown steps and there was indeed a man there who could be the templar they'd been looking for. He had dark brown hair and a few days' worth of stubble on his cheeks and chin. Purple shadows under his eyes resembled bruises and the eyes themselves had pupils so wide, it was difficult to discern what colour they actually were. The man's clothes were dirty and worn, shiny patches on the knees of his breeches and on the elbows of his shirt.

"Well, what do you know? I heard Ser Thrask had been advising you folks to seek me out. You're looking for the boy, right? Feyn something? I'm telling you now there's not much I can do for you."

"Are you Samson, the retired templar?" asked Hawke.

"Retired, that's what they call it, is it?" Samson scoffed. "Sounds better than a burned out husk of a man begging in the chokedamp. They don't do anything to keep you, you know. You join the Order, you're free to walk away. But they're the only ones who've got the dust."

"The dust? What do you mean?" asked Hawke.

"Lyrium. It's an ore the dwarves mine. Magic in its raw form. You need to drink the stuff to face down the magickers. The trouble is if you try to stop... it just about kills you."

"Is it true you give aid to apostates fleeing the templars?"

"The mages I help, they're little more than children recently come into their powers. Barely left their mother's skirts, terrified out of their wits and now we're saying demons are chasing them and they have to be locked up for their own good. Do you wonder they run?"

"Did you meet the boy?" asked Hawke.

"Afraid so. Blighter was dead broke though, not a silver on him. I help one mageling for free, I'll never get paid again."

"I pity any mage who is forced to rely on you for protection," said Anders sharply.

"I pointed him to a ship captain I know. Name of Reiner – he sometimes takes on runaways. Took another apostate last week – girl I sent him. It might have gone wrong, though. I heard rumours he might have taken both of them captive instead."

"So you're best friends with a kidnapper? Why am I not surprised?" muttered Hawke.

"Not friend, just someone I know. Rumour has it Reiner had the pair of them locked in a quays warehouse, somewhere close to Dockside. You want to go looking, you might find the lad before he's ransomed to the templars or worse."

"And how are we supposed to find this warehouse? The docks are filled with them!" said Varric.

"And I've heard that some people actually keep goods in them, rather than kidnap victims," said Fenris.

"It's on the eastern side, close to the water," said Samson. "That's all I know. I swear."

"Come on," said Hawke. "The sooner we search, the better."

"Anders! Anders!"

They all looked up to see Lirene barrelling down the steps. "Please, you've got to come! It's Lianna, she's bleeding heavily and it just won't stop."

Anders glanced at Hawke, indecision marring his features. "You go and look after her, we'll find Feynriel," said Hawke.

"And the baby?" asked Fenris.

"The baby is fine, he's doing well, thanks to you. He's a fighter, that one," said Lirene.

"We're still meeting later a the Chantry, right?" asked Anders.

Hawke nodded. "We'll see you there."

Once Anders left with Lirene, they made their way to the eastern wharves and as they got closer to a set of warehouses on the left hand side, they heard screaming from inside.

"I think we found the right place," said Varric, reaching behind him and grabbing Bianca. Everyone else got their weapons out as Hawke pushed open the door.

"They left the door open?" Hawke asked in surprise.

"Here, let me go first," said Varric. "They may have set some traps." Varric walked a few paces and clucked his tongue. "What are they trying to do? Ruin my boots?" He bent down to disarm the few traps he'd found and then they were face to face with a band of mercenaries. It didn't take long to defeat the few who'd been left to guard the door. Another scream came from upstairs.

"Somebody help me, please! Anyone!"

"That must be the girl," said Hawke, following Varric, who disarmed another trap close to the stairs. They all ran up the stairs, Fenris taking the steps two at a time, Carver close behind him. Hawke kicked in the wooden door, the frame splintered and they came face to face with two of the kidnappers, struggling with a girl dressed in mage robes.

"Get her hands!" bellowed one of the kidnappers. "I hear they can't do no spells without hands!" The other man held out his sword, as if he was going to actually chop off the girl's hands.

"NO!" the girl screamed and was suddenly bathed in a golden, shimmering light. Where the girl had stood a moment before, now they were faced to face with an abomination. Like all abominations, it had some semblance of humanoid form, but that was where the resemblance ended. The face was lopsided, the mouth twisted, its back hunched. The arms were different lengths, the hands nothing more than, scabbed, skeletal claws. Teeth grew out of the top of the creature's head and from its chest. It was as if the creature had been given a plan of what a human should look like, but had no idea how to put it together properly.

"You know nothing of magic!" the creature shrieked though its misshapen mouth and burned the two kidnappers where they stood before turning on their party. "Fools! To think they can contain us! You will die!"

The creature aimed for Hawke and Fenris saw red. This was no longer a girl scared for her life, this was an abomination who would not kill Hawke. Fenris would not allow it. His markings flared, making him grimace with pain for a moment but he struggled on and thrust his hand through the foul creature's chest. There was a satisfying crunch as Fenris crushed the heart and severed its spine. The thing crumpled to the floor of the warehouse, now just an empty shell. A piece of parchment fluttered from the pocket of the girl's robe.

Hawke nodded to Fenris. "That poor girl, she must have been desperate to resort to blood magic."

Fenris held his tongue, he didn't want to get into another argument.

"We should take a look around, see if there's anything to say where they were talking her. I doubt they were going to sell her here," said Varric. "Much too public."

Hawke bent down to retrieve the parchment and scanned it quickly.

"Maker, the girl was Thrask's daughter," he said and handed the parchment to Fenris.

"I see," said Fenris, handing it to Carver, but he didn't see. Fenris didn't see at all.

Slaves were not allowed to read.

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: The Imperial Chantry

There are those who would tell you that the Chantry is the same everywhere as it is here, that the Divine in Val Royeaux reigns supreme in the eyes of the Maker and that this fact is unquestioned throughout Thedas.

Do not believe it.

The Maker's second commandment, "Magic must serve man, not rule over him," never held the same meaning within the ancient Tevinter Imperium as it did elsewhere. The Chantry there interpreted the rule as meaning that mages should never control the minds of other men, and that otherwise their magic should benefit the rulers of men as much as possible. When the clerics of Tevinter altered the Chant of Light to reflect this interpretation of the commandment, the Divine in Val Royeaux ordered the clerics to revert to the original Chant. They refused, claiming corruption within Val Royeaux, an argument that grew until, in 3:87 Towers, the Chantry in Tevinter elected its own "legitimate and uncorrupted" Divine Valhail-who was not only male, but also happened to be one of the most prominent members of the Tevinter Circle of the Magi. This "Black Divine" was reviled outside Tevinter, his existence an offence to the Chantry in Val Royeaux.

After four Exalted Marches to dislodge these "rebels," all that the Chantry in Val Royeaux accomplished was to cement the separation. While most aspects of the Imperial Chantry's teachings are the same, prohibitions against magic have been weakened, and male priests have become more prevalent. The Circle of the Magi today rules Tevinter directly, ever since the Archon Nomaran was elected in 7:34 Storm directly from the ranks of the enchanters, to great applause from the public. He dispensed with the old rules forbidding mages from taking part in politics, and within a century, the true rulers within the various imperial houses-the mages-took their places openly within the government. The Imperial Divine is now always drawn from the ranks of the first enchanters and operates as Divine and Grand Enchanter both.

This is utter heresy to any member of the Chantry outside of Tevinter, a return to the days of the magisters, which brought the Blights down upon us. But it exists, and even though we have left the Tevinter Imperium to the mercies of the dread Qunari, still they have endured. Further confrontation between the Black Divine and our so-called "White Divine" is inevitable.

--From Edicts of the Black Divine, by Father David of Qarinus, 8:11 Blessed

*

Chapter Nineteen

*

Hawke's headache was getting worse as the day dragged on and even after they'd found Feynriel, they were supposed to decide whether or not to send him to the Circle. The decision was weighing heavily on his conscience. Hawke did think the Circle were in the best position to help the boy, but who was he to decide who went to the Circle and who didn't? Was it really fair for Hawke to be free while sending his fellow mages to be prisoners of the Circle? His head was throbbing the more he thought about it and the decision he was rapidly coming to was that he didn't know. He wasn't some sort of expert who could or should decide these things.

They were on their way to the Undercity after Varric found a goods list, with two human mages listed as being prepared for Danzig, another renegade mage himself. As if they didn't have enough troubles already! And even if they did find Feynriel, they still had to help Anders at the Chantry later that night. This was the longest day ever and Hawke just wished it was over. Then again, once everything was settled, he had a feeling that he and Fenris were about to have a talk. A long talk and Hawke wasn't sure whether that was going to be a good thing or a bad thing.

"An excellent place to hide," said Fenris as they made their way in and out of the nooks and crannies of the Undercity to the slaver's hideout. "I'm surprised the templars find anyone in this city."

The five of them made their way down to the steps to the makeshift camp. Groups of slaver guards were warming their hands around a campfire, even though the day was quite warm. Warm by Ferelden standards, perhaps not warm for those used to the heat of Tevinter.

The mage smiled at them and raised in his arms in greeting. "Well, look here, boys, some more volunteers. Clap them in irons and let's see what we can get for them."

"We're just here to talk," said Hawke. "Just give us the information we want and there'll be no trouble."

"If I kill you now, there won't be any trouble at all," said Danzig.

Hawke turned to Fenris. "Make him talk."

Fenris grinned, his markings flaring blue. "I can do that." Fenris pushed his hand straight through Danzig's chest, making the mage cough and splutter.

"Andraste's great flaming arse! Where did you learn to do that? I'll tell you anything you want! Please!"

"We're looking for Feynriel, the boy you bought from Captain Reiner. Where is he? What have you done with him?"

"I've stashed the boy in a hideout on the Wounded Coast. The Tevinters will be there to finish the deal today. He's fine, I swear! Now, can I go?"

Hawke stroked his chin. "Hmm. Shall we let you go? I don't think so. We let you go and we condemn countless innocents to slavery." Hawke's patience was at an end and he had no mercy left for slavers who bought and sold flesh as if it was no more of a commodity than salt and sugar.

"What! No! I told you everything, I swear! I --" The mage's screams were cut off when Fenris finished crushing his heart. The mage crumpled to the ground, his robes bunched up around his body, making him look like a pile of discarded laundry. That's what slavers saw the rest of them as – things that could be discarded as easily a pile of washing. The other guards stood still for a moment, as if not quite believing the mage was dead, but then they got their weapons out and it was another full-on battle. Hawke welcomed it; he would like nothing better than to send these scum back to the abyss they came from.

They fought the other guards, the fight over quickly as their opponents had lost their mage. Once it was done, Varric picked the lock on a chest which had a map of the slaver's caverns on it. Hawke handed it to Varric who read the details quickly."Hey, that cave system is near to where we rescued the Viscount's boy. We passed it, not realising what it was. So, off to the Wounded Coast again, I suppose?" Varric didn't sound too enthusiastic at the prospect.

Hawke nodded. "The Wounded Coast. Do you think that's near the Aching Knee Cliffs or Massive Head Trauma Bay? No? Just me then?"

"Leave the jokes to the experts, Hawke," said Varric. "Not all of us have a silver tongue."

*

They'd been traipsing round the Wounded Coast for over an hour and still couldn't find the stupid slaver caverns, even with the map. "It must be around here somewhere," said Varric. "We'll find it, Hawke, don't worry."

"So, Fenris... this master of yours wants your markings back? Skin and all?" asked Carver, he and Fenris were walking behind Hawke and Varric, Isabela a few steps in front.

"So his hunters told me. Unwillingly."

"So why not cover them up? Wouldn't that make you harder to find?"

"Let them come," snarled Fenris. "I am not one to hide."

"Still, if it were me."

"It's not."

"So you've really never thought of hiding from those hunters?" Carver couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"To what end?" asked Fenris.

"So you could, I don't know, have a life?"

"What life do you have? There are no hunters after you at all."

"I have a life!" Carver protested.

"One that you complain about. We are not always free to do as we wish, as you should well know."

"I do have a life," said Carver in a more subdued tone.

"Then I stand corrected."

Hawke rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. What sort of life did Carver have, really? He'd always been in his big brother's shadow, a place he hated, and he hated the fact that he was the only one of the Hawke siblings who didn't have magic. Malcolm had neglected Carver in his fervour of making sure Bethany and Hawke knew enough to hide from the templars and anyone who would do them harm because of what they were. Carver was always the odd one out and Hawke felt for his brother. He knew it couldn't be easy growing up, making friends in a new place and then they had to move again, keeping one step ahead of the templars. Lothering had been the place they stayed in the longest and now Lothering was gone, swallowed up by the Blight. No wonder Carver was bitter.

"I think I found the place," Isabela called from up ahead. "Some idiot's gone and parked a cart in front of the entrance."

"I'll move it," said Hawke as he closed his eyes and called on the Fade. He levitated the cart out of the way and settled it further down the hill.

*

"Not one step closer or I'll kill the boy." The slaver placed his knife against Feynriel's throat and sneered at them.

Feynriel's whole body was trembling, but he stoically held his chin up in defiance.

"Varric, tell this dirtbag who we are," snarled Hawke.

"If I were you, I wouldn't be threatening the Viscount's son."

"What?" The man's knife wobbled against Feynriel's throat.

"Oh, I suppose you just got a tip from a slaver that he was selling mage flesh cheap. And you never thought to ask where he got it? You never wondered if you were buying the Viscount's well known love child from his elven mistress; the boy he swore to protect even if it meant razing the entire Free Marches?" Varric held Bianca loosely in front of him and nodded to Feynriel.

"I seek no war with the Free Marches. Take the lad to his father."

"We will," said Hawke softly. "After you're dead."

"Time to die, little man," said Fenris as he hefted his two-handed sword in front of him.

"Get down!" the slaver roared at Feynriel. "You're no good to me as a corpse!"

*

Once the battle was done, Hawke's headache throbbed even more, but at least they were all safe, unlike the slavers and their leader.

"Thank you, but he could have killed me! He had a knife at my throat!" said Feynriel.

"He wouldn't have done it," said Hawke. "You were too valuable for him to kill."

"But what if you were wrong?"

"I wasn't," said Hawke.

"It must be nice to be that confident," said Feynriel. "Who are you? Are you working for the templars?"

"Your mother sent me," said Hawke.

"Hmph! Hardly a difference! When I was growing up it was all 'I'll love you and protect you' and then I have some bad dreams and it's off to the templars!"

"Is your mother right? Are you plagued my demons already?"

"I can't tell for sure. I don't remember most of the dreams, but in some I remember the demons whispering to me, asking me to shape the void around them. I don't know why they want me and I don't care. I just want it to stop."

"The Circle can help protect you from the demons, Feynriel. The Senior Enchanters have ways of helping mages protect themselves, they can teach you."

"So that's my choice is it, prisoner or slave? I was trying to get to the Dalish, they'll be able to help me. They've had magic long before humans were in these lands. The Keeper is wise, they'll know how to get rid of the demons. I'm as much Dalish as human."

"Elf, human, all that matters is the demons. The Circle is your best chance, Feynriel. The Dalish might not be as welcoming as you think. They are a very insular people. Did your mother not tell you they turned her out when she was pregnant with a human child?"

"No, they wouldn't do that, would they? I thought she just stayed in Kirkwall to be near my father, not that he ever came around anyway. Is that the truth, they really turned her away because of me?"

"It is true," said Fenris. "The Dalish are very strict with regards to bloodlines. Even if they admitted you, you would not be considered one of them. If you fell in love with a Dalish elf, then both of you would be outcasts too. They would not welcome you with open arms and most likely you will be reviled because of your human heritage, more so than because of your magic."

"Do you really think the Circle can help me?" Feynriel bit his bottom lip.

"I think it is your best chance to control these dreams, yes," said Hawke. "I am not doing this lightly, Feynriel. But I think it is the best option for you."

"I saw what you did to those Tevinters. I cannot hope to fight you. Fine! I'll go to the Circle. Go and get your blood money and tell my mother she's the only one I won't miss when they lock me away!"

*

"So, Fenris," said Isabela as they were making their way back to Kirkwall. "What's with that magical fisting thing you do?"

"Sorry, what?" asked Fenris.

"You know, where you stick your hand into people."

"Um, that. Yes... it's a talent."

"You could make so much coin with that. This one time, I was sailing to Llomerryn, and there was a fight between two of my men. It was over a dice game, or the last piece of toast, or something. Sailors—they're touchy about their toast."

"Is this going anywhere?" Fenris sighed.

"It will if you let me finish! So, there's a knife fight, and Jim ends up with a broken-off blade stuck in his shoulder. It's buried deep in there, and we're out at sea, at least a week from the nearest port. If you were there, you could've reached in and plucked that blade right from his flesh."

"That's your whole point?"

"Pretty much."

"I despair of you sometimes," said Fenris and Hawke couldn't help smiling at the exasperation in Fenris' voice. Isabela could be hard to take sometimes and she seemed to annoy Fenris more than the rest of them. Hawke knew a teasing joke when he heard one, but perhaps Fenris wasn't used to that good-natured ribbing between friends.

And his stomach lurched when he realised Fenris hadn't been used to friends at all.

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: The Tranquil

Although apprentices do not know the nature of the Harrowing, all of them understand its consequences: They either pass and become full mages, or they are never seen again. Those who fear to undertake this rite of passage, or those who are deemed weak or unstable, are given the Rite of Tranquillity instead.

The actual procedure, like the Harrowing, is secret, but the results are just as well known. The rite severs connection to the Fade. The Tranquil, therefore, do not dream. This removes the greatest danger that threatens a weak or unprepared mage, the potential to attract demons across the Veil. But this is the least of Tranquillity effects. For the absence of dreams brings with it the end of all magical ability, as well as all emotion.

The Tranquil, ironically, resemble sleepwalkers, never entirely awake nor asleep. They are still part of our Circle, however, and some might say they are the most critical part. They have incredible powers of concentration, for it is simply impossible to distract a Tranquil mage, and this makes them capable of becoming craftsmen of such skill that they rival even the adeptness of the dwarves. The Formari, the branch of the Circle devoted to item enchantment, is made up exclusively of Tranquil, and is the source of all the wealth that sustains our towers.

—From On Tranquillity and the Role of the Fade in Human Society, by First Enchanter Josephus.

*

The Tranquil are the least understood but most visible members of the Circle. Every city of respectable size boasts a Circle of Magi shop, and every one of these shops is run by a Tranquil proprietor.

The name is a misnomer, for they are not tranquil at all; rather, they are like inanimate objects that speak. If a table wished to sell you an enchanted penknife, it could pass as one of these people. Their eyes are expressionless, their voices monotone. Incomparable craftsmen they might be, but they are hardly the sort of mages to put ordinary folk at ease.

—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of A Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi.

Chapter Twenty

Hawke wasn't sure it was wise to bring Fenris along that night to help Anders, but Fenris was one of their best fighters and it would have been foolish to leave him behind if there was indeed trouble with the templars as Anders expected. That wasn't the only reason Hawke wanted Fenris along. Hawke had a theory, probably a stupid theory, but he believed that if Fenris was never alone, then he wouldn't be harmed. No magisters, no slavers able to sneak up on him again and Hawke would endure a hundred rants on the perils of magic if only he could keep Fenris safe beside him.

Varric came along because he was, well, Varric, and Hawke couldn't imagine doing these types of jobs without him. They'd become more than business partners. Varric was a good friend, he was like the exciting uncle who told tall tales of his adventures, much to the horror of parents who wanted to keep their children safe at home. Carver had begged off to go and visit Faith again and Hawke knew Carver had no great love for mages, despite being brother and son to one. So that left Isabela as their fourth that night. Hawke had wondered if he should ask Merrill and then decided against it. He didn't need two mages, one of them a blood mage, to get Fenris' back up again.

Fenris had been a little subdued during dinner in Varric's suite and had shrugged off Hawke's concerned questions.

They found Anders pacing outside the Chantry, his face cast in stark relief from the overhanging lanterns.

"You're here," he said, with a sigh of relief. "I thought you might have changed your mind."

"We promised you help, Anders. We wouldn't have let you down."

"Thank you, that means a lot to me. I saw Karl go inside a few minutes ago. No templars so far."

"Still, we shouldn't be careless," said Hawke.

"Are you ready?"

Hawke and his companions nodded. "I didn't see anyone out here. Let's get this done."

Anders led the way into the Chantry. It looked different in the dark, more shadowed and Hawke repressed a shiver.

"When we find Karl, just let me do the talking," said Anders. "You just keep an eye out for templars."

They found Karl in an upstairs alcove, his back to them, his robes dim in the lantern light.

"Anders, I know you too well. I know you would never give up."

"Karl, what's wrong? Why are you talking like this?"

When Karl turned around, both Anders and Hawke inhaled sharply. There, in the middle of his forehead was the Tranquil brand.

"I was too rebellious, like you. The templars knew I had to be made an example of."

"No!" said Anders, shaking his head, as if that action might negate what had happened to his friend.

"How else will mages ever master themselves? You'll understand, Anders. As soon as the templars teach you to control yourself. You'll see that it's worth it."

Doors creaked open along the alcove; templars marched out of the hidden rooms and up the stairs, weapons drawn.

"This is the apostate," said Karl in a voice so emotionless that it scared Hawke more than any demon. That was his future, if they were caught. But they had no intention of being caught.

"No!" screamed Anders, a strange blue light filtering from his skin. He sank to his knees, a smoky black fog enveloping him. Beside Hawke, Fenris too sank to his knees and keened in pain, his markings flaring too. What had Anders done?

"Fenris!" gasped Hawke, sitting on his haunches. "Are you all right."

Fenris waved him away and nodded. "I will be fine, Hawke. Right now we have other problems."

Anders stood up and Hawke took a step backward. The intelligence looking out of Anders' eyes wasn't Anders, but something other.

"NO!" roared the entity Anders had become. "You will never take another mage as you took him!"

Hawke remembered little of the battle after that. There seemed to be wave after wave of templars and they were struggling badly against them. One of them templars cast Silence on Hawke and he stumbled backwards into the wall, his magic useless. He turned his staff and used it a as a bludgeon to knock as many templars as possible unconscious. Hopefully it was too dark to see what Hawke and the rest of them looked like.

Anders or the entity that was Anders had no compunction about killing any templars who got in his way. "Search them," said Anders in a booming voice.

"It seems we have won the day," said Fenris. "Or night, in this case."

Hawke rummaged through the dead and unconscious templars' pockets and robes, finding little of interest until he came to the lieutenant. A letter from one Ser Alrik to a Ser Bardel.

Ser Bardel,

I have told you a hundred times not to bother the knight-commander with your pathetic questions. She's a busy woman and has no time to nurse you through your crisis of conscience. You are under my command. If you take issues with my orders, you bring them to me, or I will see you stripped of your knighthood!

The mage Karl is dangerous and we must take steps to deal with him and any friends who are assisting his rebellion. I expect this done by next week. If I must see to it personally, I will also find out exactly why you failed to carry out your sacred duties.

The Maker has given us a divine task, Bardel. We cannot fail Him.

Ser Alrik

"They knew we were coming," said Hawke, giving Anders the letter. Anders shook himself and the strange blue light dissipated; Anders was back to himself once again.

"Anders, what did you do?" cried Karl. "It's as though you've brought a piece of the Fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like."

"I thought the Tranquil were cut off from the Fade forever?" asked Hawke.

"When you're Tranquil, you never think on your life before. But it's like the Fade itself is inside Anders, burning like a sun! Please, kill me before I forget again! I don't know how you brought it back, but it's fading."

"Karl, no, don't ask me this."

"Maybe we can find a cure?" suggested Hawke.

"Can you cure a beheading? The dreams of Tranquil mages are severed. There's nothing left of them to fix. Whatever made Karl, Karl, is gone."

"I would rather die a mage than spend one more day as templar puppet," growled Karl. "If you care for me at all, Anders, do this for me."

Anders looked to Hawke, as if waiting for him to decide. "He's your friend, Anders. I can't decide his fate. It's up to you."

Anders nodded and removed a dagger from his belt.

"What did you do?" asked Hawke. "Not the Fade part, the angry glowing bit."

"I have some...unique circumstances, yes," said Anders. "But Karl, how did they get you? How did they find out?"

"The Circle here is much more vigilant than in Ferelden. The templars watch us constantly. We are never alone for long. They found a letter I was writing to you. Please, Anders, do it now. I can feel my mind slipping away again."

"I got here too late. I'm sorry, Karl. I'm so sorry."

"Now! It's fading. Why do you look at me like that? Anders? Anders?" Anders pushed the knife in between Karl's ribs, Karl's eyes widening, a soft whoosh of breath releasing from his lungs. Anders stabbed him again and Karl would have crumpled to the floor if Anders hadn't been holding him as tenderly as a lover. Anders set Karl's body on the floor and closed his friend's eyes.

"We should leave before more templars come," said Anders as he headed towards the door.

*

"Let me guess, this is the part where you tell me you're an abomination," said Hawke once they were back in Anders' clinic.

"You're wrong, but you're not far wrong," said Anders, running his hand through his hair.

"That wasn't normal magic you just did, was it?" asked Hawke.

"I... this is hard to explain. When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the Fade. We became friends, of a sort, and he recognised the injustice that mages have faced every day in Thedas."

"And that's different than a demon? How?"

"Just as demons prey on the deadly sins of mankind, there are good spirits who embody our virtues. Spirits of compassion, fortitude and Justice. They are the Maker's first children and they have all but given up on us."

"What does this have to do with your eyes glowing?"

"To live outside the Fade, he needed a host. I offered to help. We were going to work together to bring justice to every child ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle."

"So, you have this spirit of Justice living in your head?"

"It's not like that. He's gone now, but we are one. He's part of me. It's not like we can have a conversation. I feel his thoughts as my own. Not even the greatest scholar could tell you where he ends and I begin."

"This is obviously difficult for you," said Hawke.

"I thought I was helping my friend. He would have... died, I guess, if that even means anything. He wanted to help me. He knew what mages have suffered."

"Because nothing bad ever comes of good intentions, even if magic is involved," said Fenris.

"Normally, I would argue that. But, I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me, he changed. My anger, when I see templars now, things that have always outraged me and I could never do anything about. He comes out and his is no longer my friend Justice, but a force of vengeance. And he has no grasp of mercy."

"Can Justice ever be separated from you?"

"I don't think so. The only way a spirit has been separated from a living host is by killing the host. The curse is of my own making. All I can do now is hope to control it."

"So that explains the sexy, tortured look," said Hawke before his brain caught up with his mouth. Fenris glared at him from across the room and even Isabela looked rather surprised at what he'd just blurted out.

Anders smiled. "I have rarely met a man who says such things so openly. But you're obviously a rare man. My maps are yours, as am I if you wish me to join your expedition. I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have any need of me, you can find me here."

"An extra healer is always welcome," said Hawke, feeling Fenris' eyes boring into his back.

"I had a friend like you once. Got into all sorts of trouble and dragged me along. I didn't think I'd be doing that again. I got a bit weighty there. Sorry for putting all that on you."

"You'd be amazed how many complete strangers come up to me and tell me their deepest darkest secrets. I must look trustworthy."

"You look... something," said Anders. "Proud. Confident. Willing to tell the truth, even if it hurts."

"You can tell me anything," said Hawke.

"Anything?" Anders laughed. "Be careful what you offer. It's just - I hope I didn't seem too selfish when I told you about Justice. I didn't know what would happen. I figured a willing host, a friend, it had to better than playing the demon and haunting some corpse."

"We can't always predict the outcome of our action. You can only make them with a true heart."

"Well, under that scruffy exterior, I think you've got a bit of a soft heart, yourself." Anders blushed and looked down. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't presume. I just... we've hardly met and I feel like I know you. Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"It's unexpected," said Hawke. "But I am seeing someone."

"Oh. Oh, right. Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. Growing up in the Circle, everything is about order and rules and the templars. The apprentices, we found ways to make that bearable. Karl and I... he was the first. We could forget that out in the world we were nothing but templar slaves. We hadn't been together for a long time. But still... it hurt. To see him like that, everything that made him Karl stripped away."

"No one should have to go through that," said Hawke.

"It's the bloody templars. They don't see us as people. They don't care that Karl was someone's son, someone's lover. If you're born with magic, they hear about it. They search your little rat-spit village and find you. They'll tell your parents you'll be thrown in prison if they ever ask about you, stripped of all rights in the eyes of the Maker. And if you run away, they hunt you down, again and again and again."

"Mages are dangerous," said Hawke softly. "Would you rather the templars left them to the demons?"

"Magic is a tool, same as a bow or sword. Would you cut off a child's hands to ensure he never wields one in anger? Andraste's words were that magic must not rule over man. It is not ruling to simply wish for the same rights as any other man. For a thousand years we've bowed to them. But some day that will change." Anders voice rose on the last words and he started glowing.

"Er, you're starting to glow again," said Hawke.

Anders shook his head. "Right, and since you are the only ones here and I don't want to rip your heads off, we should stop this discussion. We have much to do for the Deep Roads anyway. And I need to write to Karl's mother. She should know her son is dead."

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: The Founding of the Chantry

*

Kordilius [sic] Drakon, king of the city-state of Orlais, was a man of uncommon ambition. In the year -15 Ancient, the young king began construction of a great temple dedicated to the Maker, and declared that by its completion he would not only have united the warring city-states of the south, he would have brought Andrastian belief to the world.

In -3 Ancient, the temple was completed. There, in its heart, Drakon knelt before the eternal flame of Andraste and was crowned ruler of the Empire of Orlais. His first act as Emperor: To declare the Chantry as the established Andrastian religion of the Empire.

It took three years and several hundred votes before Olessa of Montsimmard was elected to lead the new Chantry. Upon her coronation as Divine, she took the name Justinia, in honour of the disciple who recorded Andraste's songs. In that moment, the ancient era ended and the Divine Age began.

*

--From Ferelden: Folklore and History, by Sister Petrine, Chantry scholar.

*

Chapter Twenty One

Wednesday night dinners soon became something of a tradition at Gamlen's house. Not everyone could make it every week, but everyone had a standing invitation to come if they were available. So far Varric and Anders had never missed one and it wasn't long before Anders had a bit of meat on his bones. It seemed he had been quite happy to look after the refugees in Darktown, but hadn't looked after himself half so well.

Fenris, of course, was always there too as he lived in the household and things were still a bit tense between he and Hawke. Hawke knew they needed some time to themselves, some privacy to sort things out, but that seemed an impossible task at the moment. Leandra was busy in conversation with Merrill and Aveline and Fenris was deep in conversation with Carver at the other side of the room.

"Varric, do you want to give me a hand getting some water in from the well?" asked Hawke, getting up from the bench.

"Sure, Hawke," said Varric, nodding his thanks at Leandra and following Hawke out to the back-yard. Gamlen was one of the lucky ones, he actually had his own well in the yard and so they didn't have to traipse back and forth to the public one in Lowtown every day.

Varric closed the back door behind him and stood with his hands folded over his chest. "So, Hawke. Getting me alone again, this is becoming something of a habit. People will be starting to talk."

Hawke smiled at his friend. "And if they do start to talk, you'll love it. I wouldn't be surprised if you started half the rumours in this city yourself."

"I'm disappointed in you, Hawke. That you think I would start half the rumours. If anything, it's probably more like seventy-five per cent. Give or talk a few here and there. So, what's troubling you, Hawke? You've been a bit ansty for weeks now, ever since we met Anders, really. Has he been putting the moves on you, trying his attentions where they're not wanted? If you don't like men, just tell him straight out. You didn't need to pretend to him that you were seeing someone."

"Um, I do like men," said Hawke, trying and failing not to blush. "And I am seeing someone. Sort of."

Varric whistled. "You kept that quiet," said Varric with a broad grin. "Hawke, I know I joke around and lie through my teeth half the time, but you do know you can talk to me about anything, right? We're friends and friends look out for each other. So, I take it you wanted to talk about this mystery man, right?"

"Well, he's not that much of a mystery man. You know him. We all do."

"Ah, Broody, then?"

"Yes. Things have a been a bit weird between us lately. Ever since Anders joined our merry band. Fenris still has his doubts about mages and he doesn't trust Anders at all. I'm not sure if I trust him explicitly myself yet, but he is an excellent healer and he's got more skill than me, he's better trained than me. Father did his best, but he had never been formally trained as a healer at the Circle, they trained him as a battle mage, even though he wanted to become a healer. Apparently you don't get much choice in which discipline the templars want you to study."

"Do you want me to talk to Fenris for you?"

"No, it's not that," said Hawke. "I think we really need to talk things out ourselves, but finding privacy around here is a bit difficult. If we're not out on jobs, we're here and Mother is asking us every five minutes if we want a cup of tea or if we need anything. And the walls here are paper thin, I'd be afraid one of them would overhear. They all mean well, but sometimes I just want to scream to be left alone. Do you know somewhere we could be alone for a bit?"

"You could always rent a room at the Rose," said Varric. "They rent out rooms to couples as well as rent out people."

"I don't think Fenris would be too impressed if I took him to a brothel. And we do just need to talk, not anything else. We need to clear the air and then see what happens. We're not that far along, yet. This is all a bit new."

Varric nodded. "I know, after what that bastard did to Fenris, I'm not surprised you want to take it slow with him. You've got a good heart, Hawke. But isn't it a bit frustrating for you? Especially if you can't get any time alone at all."

"I'm fine, Varric. You don't miss what you've never had."

"Really? I would never have pegged you for a virgin, Hawke. You flirt with everything in sight."

"Yeah, well, flirting is the easy part. But where would I have ever got the chance for anything else, Varric? We moved house so frequently my mother joked we should buy an aravel and just keep moving around like the Dalish. There was never time to make friends, never mind anything more intimate. I had to keep what I was hidden and I never met anyone I felt this deeply about. Not until Fenris."

"So you two just need to talk in private, is that what you're telling me? How about I let you have the loan of my suite at the Hanged Man? You could invite Fenris to dinner, just the two of you. I'll get Corff to rustle up something special and make sure that you're not disturbed."

"Varric, I can't ask you to do that."

"You didn't ask, I offered. What are friends for? Look, I have some business to take care of at the Merchants' Guild tomorrow evening, what a joy that's going to be, so the suite will be empty anyway. What have you got to lose?"

"At least let me pay something towards the food, then."

Varric shook his head and held up his hand. "Now, now, Hawke, you aren't really going to turn down that offer, are you? Provings have been fought over less. I insist, you and Broody are going to have dinner tomorrow, my treat and no arguments. Now, weren't we supposed to be getting some water or are we expected to help your mother do the washing up using spit instead?" Varric toddled over to the well and turned the crank to bring up the bucket.

"Varric, thank you, I don't know what to say."

"Forget about it, Hawke. Now, are you going to help me with this water or not?"

Hawke grinned at his friend and helped him with the bucket.

*

Fenris knocked on the door to Varric's suite just as the last bell tolled eight, as arranged earlier. He was therefore a bit surprised when Hawke opened the door and waved Fenris in with a beaming smile. There was no sign of Varric at all, but Norah and a couple of other serving girls were setting out platters of food, bottles of wine and a jug of ale. Once they were all finished, they left and closed the door firmly behind them.

Fenris just stood there, taking in the food and drink and a Hawke who was dressed finer than Fenris had ever seen. He didn't know where Hawke had suddenly acquired a velvet doublet in bottle green, with trousers in a darker shade of green. Hawke's hair was also not sporting the tousled, wind-blown look it normally sported. It looked as if Hawke had made quite an effort this evening and Fenris felt under dressed in his normal brown leather tunic and leggings.

Why had Hawke gone to so much trouble? The food, the drink, the candles and lanterns in the room giving everything a soft, orange glow. Fenris couldn't help it, he glanced worriedly at the alcove holding Varric's bed. Hawke couldn't mean – he didn't mean for this evening to become what Fenris was rapidly suspecting it was? A seduction

Hawke saw where Fenris' gaze had wandered and he turned Fenris to face him. "No, Fenris. Not that. It's just dinner together. I would never push you into anything, I hope you know that."

Fenris nodded, feeling churlish for his reaction. He did know it, or at least he thought he did. Hawke pulled out a chair for him and didn't sit down until Fenris had settled himself.

"Wine or ale?" asked Hawke.

"I'll try the wine," said Fenris. "I'm not one for ale."

"It depends on the ale, I suppose," said Hawke. "But they should both be fine, Varric got them to give us the good stuff. Not the swill they normally serve downstairs."

Hawke poured out their drinks, wine for Fenris and ale for himself.

"What is all this, Hawke?" asked Fenris, waving his hand at the laden table. Platters of fruit and cheeses, bread in all shapes and sizes, roast chicken with all the trimmings. There was enough food to feed a small army.

"Just like I said, dinner for me and you."

"But we eat meals together all the time."

"I know, but things have been a bit strained between us lately. I just thought it would be nice if we had a nice meal together, just the two of us. It's our first official date!" Hawke lifted his tankard, Fenris lifted his goblet and they clinked together.

"Date? Isn't that a type of fruit?" Fenris glanced at the table, but he didn't see any dates in evidence.

"It is, yes, but it means something else too. Dates are when you and someone you lo – like do things together. Like have a nice meal, go on a picnic, or go to places like the theatre or an art gallery, things like that."

"I've never been to the theatre," said Fenris. Danarius had been a frequent patron, but then was a noble and a magister, not a slave. He could afford to go to a theatre.

"Me neither," said Hawke. "I'd like to go someday, maybe when we're back from the Deep Roads we can afford to do things like that. People act out stories on the stage. It's like a book come to life, it would be wonderful to see, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," agreed Fenris. "I would like to accompany you to the theatre, Hawke, if you still wish it."

"What do you mean?" Hawke furrowed his brow, his eybrows looking like thick caterpillars.

"You said things were tense between us. I thought perhaps you had tired of my company and no longer wished us to be together."

"What? No, not at all, Fenris. Unless that is what you wish? Is it?"

Fenris toyed with the napkin by his place. He didn't even know the Hanged Man had napkins. "No, Hawke. That is not what I want, but I also do not wish to burden you with someone as damaged as me when you can have someone who is whole." Images of strawberry blond hair flashed through his mind. "You seem to get on well enough with Anders."

"Anders? Anders?" Hawke spluttered out some of his ale. "You think I want to be with Anders?"

"Don't you?" said Fenris, his voice more steady than he expected. "You've got more in common with Anders than you do with me. You can both talk about magic without getting into arguments about it. He can give you what I can't."

"And what's that?" asked Hawke calmly. "I have everything I want and he's sitting right in front of me."

"Sex!" Fenris blurted out, his whole body flushing. "What if I'm never ready, Hawke? What if I just can't get past this fear? What if my body never recovers? Will you still want me then?"

Hawke took clasped one of Fenris' hands in both of his. "Fenris, I will want to be with you no matter what. Sex is not the be all and end all. I'm not going to deny that I desire you, for that would be a lie, but I am never going to do anything that would hurt you. And if me having sex with you would harm even one hair on your head, then we will not do it."

"But you do feel desire, sometimes?" asked Fenris, waving at Hawke's groin, wondering how he even had the courage to ask such a question.

"I do."

"I – I see. And you are not angry with me for getting you into that state and not helping you with it?"

"Oh, Fenris," Hawke said softly. "They did that, didn't they? Blame you for their arousal and then raped you?"

"I thought it was my fault," said Fenris. "They'd conditioned me to believe that. Hawke, the things I've seen, the things I've endured, it was depravity of the basest sort. I know in my head that being with someone you love should make it different, but sometimes the memories are too much and I forget that I am no longer a magister's slave to be raped and abused at will. I have never been in a relationship, Hawke. The male and female slaves were segregated, except for when the magister took some away to act as stud or breed the females. I think Danarius had a wife somewhere in the country, but she was never at that mansion. Sometimes I wonder if she even knew what her husband was really like. Nothing that went on there was a real relationship."

"This is new for both of us, Fenris," said Hawke. "I've never been in a relationship before either."

"You haven't? But you flirt with people all the time," said Fenris, his lip curling at the thought.

"Now you sound like Varric. He said the same and he also made me realise how selfish I've been in not telling you this sooner. I've never been in a relationship before. I've never been with anyone before."

Fenris gaped. "You're mean you're a virgin? Truly?"

"Truly." Hawke grinned. "So you see, Fenris, we both need some time. There's no rush, we can just spend some together, go on dates and maybe one day we'll both feel ready for more. But not now, not yet."

"Hawke, I don't know what to say. You are a rare man, indeed. But what about – when you do feel those desires? Don't you get frustrated?"

Hawke gave him a lopsided smile, making Fenris' insides do a weird little dance. "I've always been on good terms with my hands."

It took a while for Hawke's meaning to sink in and when it did, Fenris blushed to the roots of his hair. He threw a bread roll at Hawke, who caught it, laughing as he bit into it.

"You are a terrible, terrible man, Aemond Hawke."

Hawke just smiled and took another bite out of the bread.

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: The Qunari

The people of the Qun are, perhaps, the least-understood group in Thedas. The Qunari Wars were brutal, but so was the Chantry Schism. So was the fall of the Imperium. Some of this misunderstanding is an accident of nature: The race we call "Qunari" are formidable. Nature has given them fierce horns and strange eyes, and the ignorant look on them and see monsters.

Some is an accident of language: Few among the Qun's people speak the common tongue, and fewer speak it well. In a culture that strives for mastery, to have only a passable degree of skill is humiliating indeed, and so they often keep quiet among foreigners, out of shame.

But much of it is a result of the culture itself. The Qunari view their whole society as a single creature: a living entity whose health and well-being is the responsibility of all. Each individual is only a tiny part of the whole, a drop of blood in its veins. Important not for itself, but for what it is to the whole creature. Because of this, the Qunari most outsiders meet belong to the army, which the Qun regards as if it were the physical body: arms, legs, eyes and ears, the things a creature needs in order to interact with the world. One cannot get to know a person solely by studying his hand or his foot, and so one cannot truly "meet" the Qunari until one has visited their cities. That is where their mind and soul dwell.

In Seheron and Par Vollen, one can truly see the Qunari in their entirety. There, the unification of the Qunari into a single being is most evident. Workers, whom the Qun calls the mind, produce everything the Qunari require. The soul, the priesthood, seeks a greater understanding of the self, the world, and exhorts the body and mind to continually strive for perfection. The body serves as the go-between for the mind, the soul, and the world. Everyone and everything has a place, decided by the Qun, in which they work for the good of the whole. It is a life of certainty, of equality, if not individuality.

—From the writings of the seer of Kont-arr, 8:41 Blessed

*
Chapter Twenty Two

*

Fenris wiped the blood from his sword on the robe of the dead Tal-Vashoth and stared around at the dead warriors littering the cave on the Wounded Coast. He still wasn't sure whether or not bringing themselves to the Arishok's attention was wise but Hawke had promised that they'd be careful.

Anders, Merrill and Hawke had decimated most of the Tal-Vasoth in a matter of minutes, leaving Fenris and Varric to take care of the few remaining. The pain when all the mages had been casting at once nearly brought Fenris to his knees, but he knew if he gave into it, then he would be dead. And he wasn't ready to die. Not today. Not anytime soon.

They looted the bodies and searched the nooks and crannies of the cavern system, coming away with a few jewels and weapons they could sell on. Fenris didn't know what the Tal-Vashoth were doing with jewels, the soldier ranked Qunari weren't really ones for decorating their bodies, as it would make them look different to their compatriots and if you were Qunari, conformity was the order of the day.

"So, when you first did blood magic, it was... just an accident, right?" Anders asked Merrill. "You cut yourself and realised the power. You didn't actually make a deal with a demon, did you?"

Merrill glanced up at him, she was searching through a dead Qunari's pockets. "Oh, no I did."

Anders gaped at her. "You're not serious? Why would you do such a thing?"

"I needed his help. He was very nice about it, actually."

"Of course he was!" protested Anders. "He's using you to get a foothold into the mortal realm!"

For once Anders and Fenris were in complete agreement.

"And did you think this was wise?" asked Fenris. "To agree to a demon's terms? Was the price of your soul worth it?"

"He didn't want my soul," said Merrill, looking a bit sheepish. "He wanted...Never mind, it doesn't matter. It's done now. He was a spirit who offered me his aid, I accepted. I hardly think you're one to criticise, Anders," said Merrill with a stubborn jut of her lower lip.

"That's completely different!"

"Is it?" asked Fenris softly.

"Why don't we all get back to Kirkwall and see Javaris about these Tal-Vashoth?" asked Varric, as always trying to keep peace between them. He was fighting a losing battle. Fenris didn't think there'd ever be peace between he, Anders and Merrill. But they were Hawke's friends and Fenris didn't want to let things get so strained between them again. He would compromise, if only for Hawke's sake.

"Very well," said Fenris.

*

Isabela saw them all return from the steps and tagged along, without even asking. Fenris was still wary of her after her jokes about what Danarius had done to him. As if that was something to joke about! A tall Qunari halted their progress at the gates to the Qunari compound, his arm extending across the gate. "Let me pass, I have business with the dwarf, Javaris, and your Arishok," said Hawke, sounding annoyed.

The large warrior nodded and stroked his chin. "The short-mouth, yes. He has been making a pest of himself for days now. Enter if you must Bas-ra, but be wary."

"Oh, You lot go on ahead. I would... rather not," said Isabela, hands on her hips.

"An awkward time to run off, Isabela," said Hawke, frowning at her. "Where did you think we were going?"

"Ah. You know I'd never leave you in the lurch. But I have things to do, places to go, people to see. You know how it is."

"You're the one who decided to come along," said Fenris. "You could have gone on your way."

"Well, I didn't know you were going to see the Qunari, did I? Not really my thing."

"Fine," said Hawke. "It's not as if we're going to hold you hostage."

"I knew you'd understand, Hawke," said Isabela, standing on tip-toe and kissing his cheek. Fenris glared at her for taking such liberties, but she was already turned away from them and wouldn't have seen it.

Javaris was inside the compound, pacing back and forth. His face lit up when he saw them. "Ah," he said to no one in particular. "My right hand arrives. Summon your Arishok, the deal is done."

One of the warriors entered a tent at the top of the steps and returned a few moments later with the Qunari Arishok. Fenris had been used to the size of the Kossith from his brief time spent on Seheron with the fog warriors, but even he wasn't prepared for how large the Arishok was. Not only was he tall, near eight feet, he was broad too, with arms and legs as thick as tree trunks. He could snap any of them in half like a twig. His horns were large and curled around his head, almost like a crown.

"Where have you been?" Javaris asked in a harsh whisper. "I've been here for days! Any longer and I think they'd have made me into stew!"

Fenris snorted, dwarf meat would have been the last thing Qunari wanted to eat. The Arishok looked down on them from his carved seat at the top of the steps, for all intents and purposes, a king waiting to be petitioned by lesser subjects. Fenris stepped forward and raised his hand in greeting. "Arhish-oh-kost. Barras-shokra. Anam isam Qun."

"The Qun from an elf? The madness of this city," said the Arishok, shifting on his stool.

"Tell me that helped," said Hawke.

"We shall see."

"Well, that said." Javaris rolled his shoulders. "I'm here to report that your hated Tal-Vashoth were felled, one and all, right?" He looked to Hawke for confirmation, who nodded. "So I'm here to open negotiations for the explosive powder, like we agreed."

"No." The Arishok folded his arms and glanced towards the warriors surrounding them, who shifted to a ready stance and shouldered their spears.

That wasn't a good sign, as Fenris knew from experience.

"He's not getting it, made your chatty elf something." Javaris was sounding panicked now, as well he should.

"Any insight that would help?" Hawke asked him.

"The Qunari do not abandon a debt, it is a matter of honour." Fenris took a deep breath and hoped that what he was about to say would not have his head quickly removed from his shoulders. His heart was jolting in his chest already. "I humbly request clarification from the Arishok."

"I have a growing lack of disgust for you," said the Arishok, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands. "The dwarf imagined the deal for the Gaatlok. He invented a task to prove his worth when he has none."

"Then we have wrongly inserted ourselves in your affairs." Fenris hung his head. "Would you have us kill this dwarf?"

"Eh, what now?" demanded Javaris, his eyes comically wide.

"If you have fought and defeated Tal-Vashoth, then he is not worthy of dying to you, as he was not worthy of dying to them. But you," the Arishok nodded to Hawke. "You good keep company. This elf is a stranger to me, yet he knows the courtesies. Courtesies that even the most lowliest courtiers in this city lack."

Hawke smiled. "Ah, I see you've met Seneschal Bran, then."

"Briefly, he is a fool, just like the Viscount. This dwarf was foolish, we are not merchants. We do not deal in trade. The Gaatlok will be supplied in its usual manner, to destroy enemies. Let the dwarf live, and leave."

"Ah, your eminence, Arishok, I may have suggested that there might be a reward for removing the Tal-Vashoth," said Javaris, sweating profusely and wringing his hands.

The Arishok's eyes narrowed. "Dwarf, did you make promises on my behalf?"

"I- er - thought the Arishok's wisdom would have been more profitable."

"Then you will pay on my behalf!" the Arishok roared as he stood and loomed over them. The warriors got ready for battle, hefting spears and battle-axes. "This human did what you could not, something that I did not expect of any outsider, and you have involved me. If you made a bargain for the Tal-Vashoth, then that debt for their lives will be honoured."

Javaris raised his hands in the air. "Sod it all, take your coin, take whatever." He gave a leather pouch to Hawke and marched out, muttering something about mongrel dog-lords.

"You will leave as well, human," said the Arishok as he sat back down. "There is no more coin for you here."

Hawke and the others quickly departed, not turning their backs on the armed warriors until they were clear of the compound.

"Oh, they were so scary!" said Merrill, her hand fluttering around her throat as though it was a bird searching for a perch.

"That turned out better than I expected," said Fenris.

"Did it?" asked Hawke. "For a moment I thought we wouldn't get out of there alive."

"But we did," said Varric. "That's no small feat, I'm guessing?" Varric turned to Fenris.

"True. Negotiating with Qunari is tricky. You must be courteous, of course, but you must also be on your guard. They don't take kindly to being insulted."

"Right," said Varric. "No insulting the giant warriors camped in the city? Best advice I've ever had."

Hawke opened the leather coin purse Javaris had given up and whistled. "Ten sovereigns!" Hawke handed Varric, Fenris, Anders and Merrill a gold coin apiece. "And we still have some left over for the kitty. Maybe we will get to go on this expedition sometime this century after all. We still need a few more better paying jobs, though. Not everyone is going to be giving us ten gold."

"Have you tried the Chanter's Board?" suggested Anders. "They might have something worth doing."

"It's worth a shot," said Hawke. "Fenris, do you fancy a stroll in Hightown? We can count how many outraged nobles scowl at you."

"Sounds delightful," said Fenris.

"I have to get back to the clinic," said Anders.

"And I promised I'd have tea with Arianni," said Merrill.

"Tell you what, Daisy. I'll walk you home, we can leave Hawke and Fenris to peruse the Chanter's Board on our behalf. Meet me in the Hanged Man later?" asked Varric.

"We will," said Hawke, smiling at the dwarf and then at Fenris. Soon, they were left alone and Fenris felt a nervous fluttering in his belly.

"So, this walk in Hightown, that would be considered one of our dates, would it?"

"It could be," said Hawke, his grin getting even wider. "It's nice when it's just the two of us for a change, isn't it?"

Fenris nodded. "I enjoy your company a lot, Hawke, even if we do disagree sometimes."

"It would be a pretty boring world if everyone agreed with everyone else, wouldn't it?" asked Hawke, grinning broadly.

Fenris nodded and the two of them made their way to Hightown.

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: The Vael Family

Before the Vaels came to power, Starkhaven was ruled in quick succession by a number of petty warlords; some were genuine bannorn, but others were little more than bandits. Tired of the constant petty raiding and warfare between Starkhaven and neighbouring cities, the original Lord Vael organized a peaceful protest against "King Ironfist," the low-born, self-declared "king of Starkhaven." Hundreds of Starkhaven's most prominent citizens fasted for ten days and nights on the steps of the chantry, their numbers increasing every day. When his soldiers began deserting in droves at this example of piety, Ironfist surrendered his sword to the templars and left Starkhaven forever.

In gratitude, the people of Starkhaven demanded that Lord Vael be king; he refused, however, saying he had no right to that title. He was instead proclaimed prince of Starkhaven, and his family has ruled there ever since. They remain devout, dedicating at least one son or daughter per generation to become a cleric in the chantry.

*

Chapter Twenty Three

As they passed by the Keep, the sun glinted on a shield hanging outside the porch of one of the grander houses in Hightown. It may once have been grand, but now it was in a bit of state. Weeds and ivy choked the walls and lower windows and the family crest on the shield was covered in rust and dirt. But even so, Hawke recognised it. His mother had a pendant with this exact same shield.

He stopped in front of the house and turned to Fenris. "This is it. This is my mother's old house, the Amell estate."

"It looks like it's seen better days," said Fenris.

"Indeed. Gamlen gambled it away along with the family fortune. Apparently slavers are using the cellars now as an escape route from the Undercity."

"Slavers? That doesn't sound like something that should continue."

"That's exactly what I said to Carver," said Hawke. "So, Fenris, you fancy coming along?"

"To fight slavers? Just try and stop me."

"Good." Hawke smiled. "I knew you'd be up for that."

As they approached the Chantry, they saw Grand Cleric Elthina haranguing a man in white armour, which contrasted with his red hair.

"Sebastian! Stop this madness!" cried Elthina, ripping a poster from the Chanter's board. "The Chantry cannot condone revenge, Sebastian."

"It is my right, my duty, to show these assassins that there is nowhere in the Free Marches for them to hide," said Sebastian, marching away, his bow and quiver shaking in time with his steps.

"This is murder," protested Elthina, waving the poster in her hand.

Sebastian turned and quickly nocked an arrow to his bow. He aimed it towards the Chanter's board. Sebastian let loose an arrow and it flew through the air, pinning the poster back to the board. Elthina paled, probably realising how close that arrow had been to pinning her. "No. What happened to my family was murder."

The archer turned his back on the Chantry and headed back towards the Viscount's Keep. Elthina shook her head and then returned to the Chantry. Hawke and Fenris exchanged glances. The man's armour looked expensive, it looked commissioned, not something standard bought from an armourer. Hawke walked nonchalantly over to the board and read the note pinned by the arrow, before the Grand Cleric had a chance to take it down.

A grave crime was committed against all free-thinking men and women in the Free Marches. The ruling Vael family in Starkhaven - my family - was brutally murdered, down to the youngest babe in arms. This massacre was carried out by members of the Flint mercenary company. I hereby offer a bounty on the head of each Flint Company soldier in the Kirkwall vicinity.

- Prince Sebastian Vael.

Hawke whistled. A prince? No wonder the man's armour looked so posh! This could certainly earn them a few more gold. Hawke passed the notice to Fenris, who stared at it and flushed.

"Fenris, is something wrong?"

"I - I cannot read, Hawke. Slaves were not permitted to learn anything that didn't directly involve them looking after their master."

"Oh, I see."

"Now you think me a fool," Fenris said bitterly and scrunched up the note.

"What? No, of course not! I think you're one of the most intelligent people I know, actually. Fenris...would you like...maybe I could teach you to read? If you want to."

"You would do that for me?" Fernris sounded so surprised at the offer.

"If you wanted me to."

"Thank you, Hawke. Yes, I would like that. I'd like to know what all these squiggles mean." Fenris gestured to the posters on the board.

"Serah, are you looking for a job?" a voice asked behind them.

Hawke turned to see a young woman, her fair hair cut short. Her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Are you in some trouble, Miss?"

"My name is Macha. It's my brother, Keran. I don't know where to turn. The templars haven't been any help at all. I went to the Gallows to try and see Knight-Commander Meredith, but Ser Kerras threw me out, said I shouldn't be wasting the Knight-Commander's time and if he caught me there again, he'd have me arrested."

"The templars?" queried Hawke. "Is your brother a mage, then?"

"No, no, serah. Keran is a new recruit. He joined the templars six months ago and ever since, he wrote to me without fail twice every week. But this past month, no letter has ever arrived. I'm afraid something terrible has happened to him. You hear some dark rumours about Knight-Commander Meredith."

"What have you heard about Meredith?"

"Oh, she has many admirers," said Macha, shaking her head. "They laud of the service she does in keeping the mages in check. But others say she is terribly fierce and utterly without pity. She sees demons everywhere. It is dangerous even to whisper such things. Keran was always so devout, so idealistic. He was so proud when the templars accepted him. I pleaded with him not to join the Order, but he wouldn't listen. You hear dark rumours about the templars too and now my brother is gone."

"What rumours have you heard about the templars?" Hawke was intrigued; he'd not heard of any of these rumours himself and he had always kept an ear for news of templars. Being a mage meant he needed to keep one step ahead of them.

"People harbouring escaped mages just disappear. Templars interrogate and threaten passers-by. My friend has a cousin who's a mage and she says he was made tranquil against his will. You hear more disturbing things with every passing day." Macha shivered.

"What do you need from me if we are to help you?" asked Hawke.

"I myself can't go to the Gallows again, not while Ser Kerras is anywhere near. Perchance, if you happen to find yourself there, seek out the recruits Hugh and Wilmod. They are Keran's closest friends in the Order. They might know what has become of him. Maker bless you and watch over you." Macha curtsied, as if they were royalty or nobles.

"We will find out what's happened to your brother," said Hawke. "He may indeed be in trouble."

"Thank you, serah. You don't know how much this means to me."

*

They went to the Hanged Man to see if Varric fancied a trip to the Gallows with them and after a few drinks Hawke, Fenris, Varric and Isabela set off for the boats. Hawke hadn't intended to invite Isabela along, she sort of invited herself as she'd been sitting with Varric, mentioning something about men in armour with big swords and how they couldn't leave her behind.

Hawke made sure to sit beside Fenris in the boat, when he saw Fenris scowl at Isabela. The tension between the two of them was almost palpable and Hawke wanted to make sure Fenris felt at ease. He was pleased when Fenris scooted even closer to him on the bench, their thighs touching. Hawke turned and smiled at him, his whole body on fire when Fenris smiled back, but the elf hung his head with a touch of shyness and glanced at Hawke from beneath his fringe. He knew how private Fenris was, so Hawke didn't do anything else, even though he had the urge to wrap Fenris in his arms and kiss him senseless. But Hawke knew better than to do that in public.

Once at the Gallows, they wandered around looking at the market stalls, trying to figure out where Hugh or Wilmod might be. Hawke didn't think it was a good idea to keep asking random templars to find their quarry; the less interaction with templars the better.

"Hawke, isn't that Ser Thrask over there?" Varric nodded towards the steps. "The one who was searching for Feynriel. The one who's daughter died in that warehouse?"

Hawke nodded. "I still have the letter she wrote to him. He might know where Hugh or Wilmod are as well." As he and his companions walked over to the red-haired templar, Hawke took a deep breath. Thrask's daughter hadn't just died, they had killed her, or the abomination she had become and he felt a hollow ache in his chest at having to reveal this news to her father.

"Ser Thrask?" Hawke asked, wishing he didn't have to do this.

Thrask's face softened as he recognised them. "Serah Hawke! I wanted to thank you again for what you've done for Feynriel. He's still a bit resentful, but he's settling in with the other apprentices and will undertake his Harrowing soon. He speaks very highly of how you treated him before you brought him to the Circle."

"Thank you, Ser Thrask. Um, I have a letter for you. It's from your daughter." Hawke removed the parchment from inside his robes and handed it to Thrask.

"My daughter? Then you know what she is – what she became. When I tracked her to that warehouse, I should have dragged her back to the Circle in chains if I had to. I was too weak. My love for her killed her. If I'd only be stronger for Olivia she would still be alive. It was why I urged Arianni to bring Feynriel to us when he wished to hide. I wouldn't wish this grief on another parent. A lot of mages see the Circle as a prison, but in truth the rituals of the Circle were created for mages' protection. It's a sanctuary, not a prison. Sorry, I am rambling. Thank you for bringing me her letter. I hope she is at peace now."

"You won't have to worry about the Order finding out," said Hawke. "We all do what we can to protect our family."

"Thank you." Thrask nodded. "I would hate to see her name smeared while her ashes are still cold. Olivia wasn't a bad girl, but she was misguided. If there is ever anything I can do for you or your friends, Master Hawke, you only have to ask."

"Actually, there was something. One of your recruits, has gone missing. His name's Keran and his sister is beside herself with worry."

"Keran? I'm sorry, I don't think I know that young man."

"How about his friends?" asked Fenris. "Hugh or Wilmod?"

"I know Hugh, that's him over there in the courtyard with his friends, Paxley and Margritte. Wilmod's not there, that's unusual. They usually hang about together."

"Thank you, we'll go and talk to them," said Hawke.

The trio of recruits stopped talking as Hawke and the others approached and looked warily at the newcomers. "Hugh?" asked Hawke.

A sandy-haired young man nodded. "I'm Hugh. What do you want?"

"Do you know a recruit named Keran? His sister is looking for him."

"We cannot speak to you, messere," said the woman, Margritte, Hawke assumed. So that meant that the man with the caterpillar moustache must have been Paxley.

"To the Void with that!" said Hugh, waving his hand as if swatting an invisible fly. "Keran and the others are missing."

"But our orders," protested Paxley.

"The knight aren't doing anything to find them. Maybe it's time to ask for outside help," said Hugh.

"I wasn't even certain Keran was missing." Hawke shook his head. "Who else is gone?"

"The first ones disappeared weeks ago. There's been at least half a dozen. Wilmod and Keran were the most recent."

"Why must you keep silent about Keran and the others?" asked Hawke.

"You obviously aren't a templar, messere," said Paxley. "The Knight-Lieutenant gives you an order and you must obey, no matter what."

"They told us not to breathe a word about Keran and the others," said Hugh.

"They must have their reasons," said Margritte.

Hugh shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "And that will be a great comfort if you go missing next."

Hawke smiled. "You're already defying orders to talk to me, might as well share the good stuff."

"I hear that Knight-Commander Meredith has some new initiation that you have to go through. If you're not strong enough or not fervent enough in belief, you don't make it out alive," said Paxley.

"Seem to me a weak templar would die just as quickly," said Fenris.

Margritte laughed. "And you honestly believe that?"

"Recruits keep going missing," said Hugh.

"Wilmod came back." Margritte shrugged her shoulders.

"What? When?" Hugh asked.

"He did. I saw him this morning."

"What else do you know about the initiation?" queried Hawke.

"You hear about some questionable things that the Order must do these days," said Paxley. "The Knight-Commander only wants people who can do... what must be done."

"Andraste alive!" exclaimed Hugh. "She's killing recruits who might question her orders, isn't she?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" snapped Margritte. "She wouldn't do that."

"If Wilmod came back, maybe we can talk to him," said Hawke. "He might know where Keran is."

"He isn't here," said Margritte. "He said he was going for a walk outside of Kirkwall, he needed to clear his head, he said."

"Why didn't you tell us this?" demanded Hugh.

"Knight-Captain Cullen ordered it, right before he chased after Wilmod. That wasn't too long ago. If you hurry, you might catch them on the road. They're headed towards the Wounded Coast."

"Of course they are," said Varric.

"Thank you, you've been a great help," said Hawke.

"I hope you find Keran safe," said Hugh. "He's one of my best friends here."

"We'll try our best," said Hawke.

Chapter Text

Codex Entry - Beyond the Veil: Spirits and Demons

It is challenging enough for the casual observer to tell the difference between the Fade and the creatures that live within it, let alone between one type of spirit and another. In truth, there is little that distinguishes them, even for the most astute mages. Since spirits are not physical entities and are therefore not restricted to recognizable forms (or even having a form at all), one can never tell for certain what is alive and what is merely part of the scenery. (It is therefore advisable for the inexperienced researcher to greet all objects he encounters.)

Typically, we misuse the term "spirit" to refer only to the benign, or at least less malevolent, creatures of the Fade, but in truth, all the denizens of the realm beyond the Veil are spirits. As the Chant of Light notes, everything within the Fade is a mimicry of our world. (A poor imitation, for the spirits do not remotely understand what they are copying. It is no surprise that much of the Fade appears like a manuscript translated from Tevinter into Orlesian and back again by drunken initiates.)

In general, spirits are not complex. Or, rather, they are not complex as we understand such things. Each one seizes upon a single facet of human experience: Rage, hunger, compassion, hope, etc. This one idea becomes their identity. We classify as demons those spirits who identify themselves with darker human emotions and ideas.

The most common and weakest form of demon one encounters in the Fade is the rage demon. They are much like perpetually boiling kettles, for they exist only to vent hatred, but rarely have an object to hate. Somewhat above these are the hunger demons, who do little but eat or attempt to eat everything they encounter, including other demons (this is rarely successful). Then there are the sloth demons. These are the first intelligent creatures one typically finds in the Fade. They are dangerous only on those rare occasions that they can be induced to get up and do harm. Desire demons are more clever, and far more powerful, using all forms of bribery to induce mortals into their realms: Wealth, love, vengeance, whatever lies closest to your heart. The most powerful demons yet encountered are the pride demons, perhaps because they, among all their kind, most resemble men.

--From Beyond the Veil: Spirits and Demons, by Enchanter Mirdromel.

*

Chapter Twenty Four

*

Just once, Hawke wished that they could enjoy a leisurely walk along the Wounded Coast. Perhaps have a picnic at a sheltered spot an watch the ships sail by. Or a moonlit stroll with Fenris, perhaps even holding hands and share furtive kisses in the darkness. Or even get into the water and swim or paddle. But every time they'd been here they'd been attacked by giant spiders, or bandits, or Tal-Vashoth or mercenaries, and today was turning out to be no different.

On the way to find Wilmod and Knight-Captain Cullen, they were attacked by a band of mercenaries and after despatching them, Hawke searched their bodies, finding an ornate locket inscribed with the letters M.V. Hawke prised it open to see miniature portraits of a man and a woman so similar to Sebastian, that it must been his parents. It seemed they'd found some of the Flint company who had attacked the Vael family in Starkhaven. Hawke had intended on bringing the mercenaries to the City Guard, but once they'd been attacked and were fighting for their lives, that was no longer an option.

"They never learn, do they, Hawke?" asked Varric shaking his head at the bodies around them. "Messing with us is suicide. We can get a good price for some of their weapons though, their swords and knives hardly looked used."

"Sure, Varric. Whatever you think. We'll hide the loot and come back later. We need to find Cullen and Wilmod first."

Varric, Isabela, Hawke and Fenris looted what they could and hid their finds in the shrubs dotted about. There was no guarantee it would still be there when they got back, but they couldn't take everything with them, being so few in number. And Hawke didn't particularly fancy turning up to meet Knight-Captain Cullen with the weapons of murdered men in their possession.

The day was overcast and dull, thunder rumbling overhead and they trudged up the cliffside, Varric reckoning there had been recent travellers on it. They found Wilmod and Cullen in a cove half-way up the cliff.

Cullen yanked Wilmod towards him, pulling hard on the leather of Wilmod's armour near his shoulder. "Andraste be my witness, Wilmod, I will have the truth from you!" Cullen kneed Wilmod in the stomach, who doubled over and sank to the ground.

"Mercy, ser! Mercy!" Wilmod pleaded from the ground, his arm wrapped protectively around his middle.

"Were it that easy," said Cullen, drawing his sword from its sheath.

"Don't hit me!" sobbed Wilmod.

"I will know where you're going." Cullen levelled his sword at Wilmod's body.

"And I thought templars only treated mages this badly," said Hawke, as he and his companions approached.

Cullen rounded on them, his sword shaking. "This is templar business, stranger, you have no cause here!"

On the ground, Wilmod started laughing and rose to his feet. "Pathetic human! You have struck me the last time! Do you think you can contain us? Any of us? We are everywhere!"

"Great, just great," mumbled Hawke, knowing what was coming next. As usual, it seemed they were never going to have a peaceful outing to the Wounded Coast.

"To me!" Wilmod roared, the ground around him erupting with shades and demons, his own body twisting and contorting into an abomination.

"You line 'em up for me, Hawke," said Varric, hefting Bianca from his shoulder. "I'll take 'em down."

"Maker preserve us," said Cullen, readying himself for battle, as did the rest of them.

*

The battle didn't take long, not with Hawke's magic and Cullen's templar abilities lending a hand. When it was over, Cullen coughed and seemed to forget his ire at being interrupted earlier.

"Thank you for your assistance," said Cullen. "I am Knight-Captain Cullen and I am grateful for your aid."

"It was lucky we were here," said Hawke. "You shouldn't have been out here alone with him."

"I knew, I knew he was involved in something sinister," said Cullen, shaking his head, sandy hair catching the light. "But this? Is it even possible?"

"Do you think he was possessed?" asked Hawke.

"Normally, we only worry that mages might fall victim to possession. I have heard of blood mages, or demons in solid form who could summon others into unwilling hosts. But I'd not thought one of our own would be susceptible."

"With what I've bumped into in Kirkwall, nothing surprises me any more."

"I've been conducting an investigation of some of our recruits who have recently gone missing. Wilmod was the first to return. I had hoped to confront him quietly, out of sight."

"If you didn't know he was possessed, why draw your sword on a recruit?" asked Hawke.

"He'd only been back a few days when he left again, secretly. It set off some warning bells. I meant to scare him into a confession. He had to believe my threat was genuine."

"The recruits believe that Meredith was conducting some sort of deadly ritual."

"What? That's preposterous! Recruits can be worse than a weaving circle with their rumours. There is a vigil before templars take their arms, but the gravest danger they face is falling asleep."

"Do you have any idea what happened to Wilmod while he was gone?" Hawke asked.

Cullen shook his head. "Obviously more than I had anticipated. Wilmod has never been fully convinced of the Order's rules. Mages cannot be our friends. They must always be watched. I thought Wilmod might be meeting with some old friends, mage friends, perhaps, who'd escaped the Circle."

"Not all mages are the same," said Hawke. "Are you saying every mage in the world needs to be watched constantly?"

"I was at the Circle Tower in Ferelden during the Blight," said Cullen angrily. "I saw first hand how templars' trust and leniency could be rewarded. I still have nightmares of Uldred's depravities. You will never convince me that mages are not dangerous. I know that they are."

"Where there's one demon, there's usually more. Where do we start digging?" asked Varric.

"I fear it is time to widen this investigation. My discretion may have cost us one of our best recruits, Wilmod's friend, Keran. They were last seen together at the Blooming Rose but I have had no luck in interrogating the... ah... young ladies there."

"The brothel? I'd be willing to search there," said Isabela, smiling ferally at Cullen, who blushed scarlet.

"Thank you. The Order would truly be in your debt, messere, and we could perhaps overlook the obvious."

"We find Keran for you and you forget that I'm a mage? Very convenient, that."

"Not all mages are in the Circle, we know that," said Cullen. "There are too many mages being born to ever fit all of them in Circles. There just isn't enough room or enough templars to keep order for those that we do have. I can be pragmatic when I have to be."

"It's a good offer, Hawke," said Varric. "You don't want to end up in the Gallows, do you?"

"Very well, Knight-Captain, we'll look for Keran. But I have to tell you now that I won't take kindly to any hint of treachery on your part."

"You have my word as templar knight that I will not betray you. You have nothing to fear from me."

Hawke frowned. "But we shouldn't bring undue attention to ourselves while we're in the Gallows?"

"Exactly, other templars may not be so circumspect."

Hawke held out his hand and Cullen reached out to take it. "We have a deal," said Hawke.

*

Hawke and Fenris were going home to Gamlen's, while Varric and Isabela returned to the Hanged Man. There wasn't much point in venturing to the Blooming Rose until after dark anyway. "I was thinking of asking Anders to accompany us tonight," said Hawke. "We don't know what we might be dealing with. If the brothel is somehow involved in these disappearances, we might need another mage. Is that all right?"

"You do not need to ask my permission, Hawke. You know best who would be suitable from our group for the tasks involved. You make a good leader."

"I do?" Hawke asked in surprise. He didn't think of himself as a leader, although sometimes the others seemed to think he was. "I know you and Anders don't get along, I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Thank you for the consideration, Hawke, but if you think we need Anders, I will abide by your wisdom."

Hawke laughed as they ascended the steps to Gamlen's hovel. "We'd better not discuss this in front of Mother, though. She might not approve of us going to a brothel, even if we aren't going there to... you know..."

"Partake of their services?" asked Fenris, grinning and Hawke felt his heart flutter against his chest. It was so wonderful to see Fenris' smile.

"Indeed."

They heard raised voices through the door. It seemed Leandra and Gamlen were arguing yet again. Hawke turned the handle and went in. His uncle and mother both glanced at him and then resumed their argument.

"I hear people gossiping about it at the market, Gamlen! How you're always in the brothel of a night! Have you no shame? What about our family name?"

Gamlen growled. "I wasn't the one who brought shame to the Amell line, Leandra! That was you, running off with an apostate! I work hard every day and I can spend my money where I damn well please! It's none of your business if I want to patronise the Rose! And anyway, it's Carver you should be concerned about. From what I hear, he's in the Rose even more often than me!"

"That's a lie!" Leandra flushed. "Carver would never demean himself so! Aemond, tell your uncle he's wrong. Carver would never go with such low-born women, would he?"

"He's not wrong, Mother," Hawke said softly. "Carver has formed an attachment with one of the girls there."

Gamlen chuckled loudly. "An attachment? Oh, this is just too good! You might end up having a prostitute for a daughter-in-law, Leandra, how's that for dragging the family name down?"

"Aemond? Carver doesn't mean – he can't mean he wants to marry this person?" demanded Leandra.

"I don't know, but I do know he likes her. A lot."

"Well, then, you'll just have to speak to Carver and put a stop to it!" Leandra placed her hands on her hips, a stance Hawke was well used to when Leandra wanted to lay down the law.

"Carver's a grown man, Mother. He can see whoever he likes."

"But she's a whore! It's disgusting!" Leandra ranted.

Hawke shook his head. "Brothels are legal in the Free Marches. Carver isn't doing anything wrong and neither is Faith. What's disgusting is starving on the streets when you can get a roof over your head, meals provided and coin too."

"But to stoop so low – to sell your own body, how can she do it?" Leandra asked softly.

"Survival means people do many things they may not wish," said Fenris. "But they just have to make the best of things. It can be difficult, but life goes on."

Hawke glanced at Fenris, whose eyes were shadowed and Hawke knew that Fenris spoke from bitter experience. To have endured all he had and still remain somewhat sane was something of a miracle.

"We'll have supper at the Hanged Man," said Hawke. "Varric is waiting for us."

Hawke had no idea if Varric was waiting for them or not, but he didn't want to be in that room any longer then necessary. He had no idea his mother could be so bigoted about the girl Carver was seeing. And what would she say when she found out about he and Fenris? Hawke was the eldest, the heir, would Leandra be expecting him to marry some simpering noble to carry on the Amell and Hawke lines? He pressed his fingers across the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the anxious headache that was threatening.

"Hawke, are you all right?" Fenris asked as they walked towards the tavern.

"Oh, yes, thanks, Fenris. Just wondering when I might get the talk about my future bride and how it'll be up to me to carry on the family name."

"Bride?" Fenris' voice rose a bit. "You intend to marry? So, this – whatever this is with me, you are just experimenting? Biding your time until a suitable wife is found?"

"Maker, no! I have no intention of marrying a woman, Fenris. My desires have never been in that direction. I wouldn't be able to beget heirs on a woman anyway, they don't have the right equipment. I don't fancy women, I never have. I'm with you, Fenris. I don't want anyone else."

"I see. Then I am sorry for my outburst."

"There's no need to apologise for that, Fenris. I'm glad you felt comfortable enough with me to argue. All couples argue but that doesn't mean they don't still like each other."

"They do? So we are still – friends?" Fenris asked hesitantly.

Hawke smiled and pulled Fenris into an alcove near the door of the Hanged Man. He wrapped his arms around Fenris' waist and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. "Still friends and more, I hope?"

Fenris nodded and gave Hawke a kiss of his own.

Chapter Text

Part 25

Codex Entry: The Amell Family

It's truly sad what happened to the Amells, isn't it? I still remember Grandmother talking about the balls Lord Aristide used to hold at their estate and the Antivan violin players and dancers from Afsaana. No expense was spared and no one would dare miss it, lest someone think they weren't worthy of an invitation.

And then poor Revka had the child. Magical talent, running in one of Kirkwall's most prominent families? The templars had considered Aristide to be viscount after Threnhold's arrest. Can you imagine the scandal had he been chosen? They whisked the child away to the Circle, and the Amells simply had no luck after that. Leandra ran off with a Fereldan apostate and then Damion was accused of smuggling. Poor Lord Fausten almost bankrupted his family trying to get the charges dropped, but I hear Viscount Marlowe simply wanted to get the Amells out of the picture. And it worked too, didn't it? By the time Lord Fausten got sick, there was only young Gamlen left and a mountain of debt.

I spoke to Dulci just the other day, and apparently Gamlen is now living in some Lowtown shack—sounds like the sort of character you'd cross a street to avoid! And let's not even talk about the estate.

Mother says we should remember the Amells because that sort of thing can happen to any one of us. You know the old saying: "A Marcher's fortune rises and falls with the tide." If you ask me, this is just another misfortune that magic brings to honest folk. Andraste help that poor family, whatever lies in store for them.

—Excerpt from a letter written by Lady Amelie de Montford

Chapter Twenty Five

Fenris didn't know how long they kissed for. They were still in a little alcove near the Hanged Man and it was a very public place. Anyone could have seen them, but right at that moment, with Hawke's mouth against his own and their arms wrapped around each other, he didn't really care. He didn't want to stop, not yet, not for a while. Fenris briefly felt Hawke's erection pressing against his midriff, but not for long, as Hawke angled his body away. The fact that Hawke was aroused by their kissing didn't frighten him. Not like with those other men, for Fenris knew that despite his arousal, Hawke would never do anything to hurt him. Fenris felt his throat tighten with emotion at the knowledge that Hawke moved his body away because he thought Fenris might be uncomfortable.

Fenris knew now what he'd long suspected: Hawke loved him. Loved him enough to let him be comfortable. Fenris didn't know what love was, he couldn't remember a time when he'd loved anyone, although he suspected he might have done in that past. What he did know for certain was that this man in his arms meant the world to him. Fenris would die for Hawke if it came down to that. Was that love? Fenris wasn't sure, but he knew that Hawke was the most important person in his life and he didn't want to lose him, either to templars or demons.

Hawke pulled away from their kissing, his face was flushed and he and tenderly caressed Fenris' cheek. "I suppose we'd better go and find Varric inside."

"Very well," said Fenris. They both made their way to the tavern, but Varric was nowhere to be found in the common room.

"He must be in his suite," said Hawke, heading for the stairs. Fenris followed him up and felt himself blush as he caught a glimpse of Hawke's pert arse and thighs on the way up the stairs. If he reached out, he could have pinched Hawke's bottom. He resisted the temptation and was just glad it was he who was behind Hawke and not Isabela; Fenris was convinced she wouldn't have resisted the urge at all.

Hawke knocked on the door to Varric's suite and it swung open to reveal Isabela behind it. Not only her, seated around the table were Carver, Aveline, Anders and of course Varric himself. The table was set with platters of food and jugs and bottles of wine and ale and everyone seemed to be in quite a merry mood, if the red faces and laughter were anything to go by.

"Hawke, Fenris! Come in, come in," said Varric, raising his tankard at them. "We were just getting some food before we head off to the Rose."

"And some of them have started early on the drink too," said Aveline with a disapproving frown.

"You need to lighten up," said Isabela, taking a swig of wine straight from a bottle.

"And you need to buy some more clothes," said Aveline. "You're almost indecent."

"Oh? You've been noticing, have you? Like to take a long, lingering look, do you, Guardswoman?"

"What? No!" Aveline spluttered. "That's not what I meant!"

Hawke and Fenris sat down, helping themselves to some food, but forgoing the alcohol for now. They might need clear heads later.

"I hear good things about you, Anders. Not what I expected," said Aveline.

"For a mage, you mean." Anders picked at his chicken leg and frowned at her.

"I didn't say that."

"How else would you judge me? What else am I a shining example of?"

"I don't know... other Fereldans lurking in Darktown? Mage or not."

"You... have a fair point," said Anders, glancing down at the table.

"So you're two people, Anders and... Justice?" asked Aveline.

"That's not strictly accurate," said Anders.

"But you are of two minds."

"Many people are."

"Now you're the one not being accurate," said Aveline, with an annoyed huff.

"I thought those were the rules of this game," replied Anders, smirking at her.

"I never know who I'm talking to with you." Aveline crossed her arms and glowered across the table. Fenris felt much the same when in Anders' presence, but he'd already agreed that they might need another mage on their jaunt to the brothel.

"Then it's fortunate it doesn't occur often, isn't it?" asked Anders.

Aveline turned to Carver, as if keen to stop conversing with Anders as soon as possible. "So, Carver, have you thought what you might do if this expedition doesn't pay off?"

"This is our only chance and you know it."

"You're so damned proud you couldn't pick up a trade?"

"And who would take on a Fereldan apprentice? Maybe in another year I could work my way up to pissboy," said Carver bitterly.

"Fine, go and crawl down some holes filled with darkspawn. Good bloody luck for your sake," snapped Aveline.

As ever, Hawke tried to be the peacemaker. Fenris thought the man was fighting a losing battle; some people just didn't get on.

"Being a guard must be a different pace than serving King Cailan," said Hawke.

"It's just one more change, though. The real end for me was Ostagar. I don't mean the betrayal, everyone knew the beacons were lit and the flanking charge never arrived. It was the strangest feeling - hope answered with nothing. What about you, Carver? You were there, did you feel something similar."

"No," said Carver, pouting.

"Bit of a tit, your brother, isn't he?" said Aveline.

Anders was squinting hard at Isabela. "I keep thinking I know you from somewhere. Have we met before?"

"I'm not sure," said Isabela. "You're Fereldan, aren't you? Did you ever spend time at the Pearl in Denerim?"

"Ah, that's it! You used to really like that girl with the griffon tattoos, right? What was her name?"

"The Lay Warden?" Isabela arched her eyebrows.

"That's right! I think you were there the night I—" Anders waved his hands a spark of lightning ran along his fingerstips.

"Oh! Were you the runaway mage who could do that electricity thing? That was nice.." said Isbela.

"Please, stop talking," said Hawke, putting his head in his hands.

"I don't think any of us needed to hear that," said Varric. "Speaking of brothels, hadn't we better get to the Rose before morning?"

"Yes, Varric's right," said Hawke.

"I'll head home," said Carver. "Faith's not working tonight and I don't want the others to think I'm there for someone else."

Hawke nodded. "Tell Mother we may be late back."

"I've got the late shift, I have to get back to the barracks," said Aveline. "But good luck."

"Thanks, Aveline," said Hawke, moving in to hug her. She resisted at first and then seemed to relax a bit in his arms. "Be careful on the way back, won't you?"

"Hawke, I'll be fine, you worry too much," said Aveline, leaning up and giving him a peck on the cheek. "Come on, Carver, I'll walk with you to Gamlen's house."

"Gamlen's shack, more like," said Carver.

"You're lucky, at least it's a roof. Some people in Kirkwall don't even have that."

"Whatever," said Carver and marched out the doorway. Aveline rolled her eyes and followed him.

"Right," said Isabela, rubbing her hands together. "To the brothel we go."

*

The downstairs parlour in the Rose was bustling with workers and their would-be customers; the bar seemed to be doing a roaring trade and nearly every table was full. Most of the prostitutes seemed to be in some state of undress, but they spied one woman hovering around, who was wearing a modest dress with an apron over it.

"Are you one of the girls here?" Hawke asked her. "Do you work here, with the customers?"

"You're no prize yourself, you know. The name is Viveka and not everyone who works here is for sale. Is there something you want?"

"My apologies, I meant no offence. We have a couple of missing templar recruits, Wilmod and Keran, they were last seen here. Do you know them?"

"You'll have to be more specific, we do a lot of business with the templars."

"We have a lot of missing templars. If we don't act quickly, we may only find corpses," said Hawke.

"Now, now, no need to get all dramatic on me. Let me look through the books." Viveka turned to the bar and a flicked through the pages of a large, leather bound book. "Wilmod, Keran. Ah, here we go. Wilmod came in here a lot. Are you sure he had time to be a templar? The both of them last saw Idunna, the exotic wonder of the East."

"That's quite the stage name," said Hawke, grinning.

"Well, it's better than the tramp from Darktown. You should hear what some of the others are called." Viveka snorted at just the thought. Fenris wondered what she was doing working in a brothel if she disapproved of it so much, but then maybe she didn't have much choice. A job was a job, wasn't it?

"Is there anything else you can tell me?" asked Hawke.

"Honey, I could write volumes on the things I know, but unless you want Keran's favourite position, I think we're done here. Idunna's room is last on the right, upstairs. You didn't hear any of this from me, are we clear?"

"Fine. Thanks for you help."

Hawke, Varric, Fenris and Isabela made their way to the whore's room, where they let Hawke do most of the talking.

"You must be the exotic wonder of the East, Idunna, right? Do you remember entertaining a templar recruit named Wilmod a few weeks ago, or Keran?"

"Wilmod, Wilmod." Idunna shook her head. "The name doesn't ring a bell."

"Do your clients like this charade? It must get dreadfully tiresome. I know they saw you."

"I don't know what you mean!" spluttered Idunna, moving to sit down on the bed. "Questions are boring. Why don't we have some real fun?" She trailed a hand across her breasts and then down between her legs, cupping herself through the silk dress. It was such a blatant display, but it was the least erotic thing Fenris had ever seen.

"Hawke,"said Varric. "Go easy on this lovely...creature."

"You should listen to your friend," said Idunna, smiling.

"What's the matter with you? We need to question her about Keran," said Hawke.

"Yes, yes, but certainly there's no harm in mixing a little business with pleasure, is there?" Varric seemed to be in a world of his own, and that was not like him. Fenris turned to the whore once more, trying to sense if she was a mage or not, but there was something blocking him. A very powerful mage, then.

Hawke turned back to Idunna. "As charming and relentless as you are, I'm here to investigate. Nothing more."

"Answer one of my questions first. Who told you about little old me?" Idunna stared hard at him, not blinking.

Hawke shook his head, but then it was as if fighting some inner turmoil. Sweat was trickling down his face and he was grimacing with effort. The words seemed to be forced out of him.

"It was Viveka. She – she showed me her books."

Idunna smiled and trailed a hand along her left breast. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Idunna stood up. "So, Viveka sold me out, did she? That drab, pathetic little sewer rat. She will be dealt with. Just do one more thing for me. Draw your blade and bring it gently across your throat."

Hawke's body did not seem to be his own. Fenris tried to move, tried to help, but he was stuck to the floor. What was she doing to them? This wasn't normal magic, it couldn't be, could it? Fenris watched in paralysed horror as Hawke removed his dagger from its sheath on his belt. Hawke drew the blade across his own throat, sweat dripping from he as he tried to resist the magic's pull. He breathed deeply, then breathed out, gasping as if he'd just been saved from drowning.

"You cannot control me!" roared Hawke, lowering the dagger and pointing it at Idunna. She stumbled back and fell onto the floor. The others could also move once more.

"Oh, shit!" gabbled Idunna. "How did you do that? Spare me, messere!"

"What foul magic was that?" demanded Hawke.

"Blood and desire in equal measure. An art I learned from...elsewhere."

"Blood magic then," spat Hawke.

"Yes, messere. Please don't kill me." Idunna was sobbing now, as if knowing her life was held in the balance.

"Tell me everything, now. You're going to answer all my questions and I if I feel even a hint of magic..." said Hawke.

"Tarohne put me here. It was her idea. To send biddable templar recruits to the Sanctuary. Three Spear Alley in the Undercity. I enchanted Wilmod and Keran weeks ago, but after they left these walls, I know not what became of them. Please, let me live. It's not my fault! It was all Tarohne's idea."

"Tell me more about this Tarohne."

"She put me up to this. She said we could recreate the Tevinter Imperium, right here in Kirkwall, so mages can rule again once more. She says the templars cannot hold against us if we stand together and fight."

"Hah," snorted Fenris. "She has no idea what she is dealing with."

"This base of yours, how many other mages are there? Any other defences?" asked Hawke.

"There are traps, magical traps. There's a hidden switch at the front - it turns them off. I don't know how many, messere, people go in an out all the time. Sometimes a handful, sometimes more. That's all I know, I swear!"

"Anders, bind her. We'll let Knight-Captain Cullen know she's here. You're for the Gallows, Idunna."

"Hawke, she's a blood mage!" protested Anders. "They'll make her Tranquil! You can't just hand her over!"

"So, we just let a blood mage wander free around Kirkwall?" asked Fenris. "She deserves everything she gets!"

"You would say that!" snapped Anders. "We all know your thoughts on mages!"

"She's going to the templars, Anders. That's final," said Hawke, casting his own binding spell on Idunna. "Come on, let's get to this Sanctuary of theirs before this gets any worse."

Fenris nodded. "Indeed. I shall look forward to rooting out this nest of blood mages. It will not be the first."

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: The Enigma of Kirkwall:

Ancient Tevinter lore is hard to come by, but there's history to be had here in Kirkwall, the city once home to the Imperium's slave trade.

What answers does Kirkwall hold? Why look here instead of Perivantium or Vol Dorma? The Imperium does not give up its secrets easily. Even with the magisters centuries dead, our journey is perilous. Here on the dock of the Gallows, we renew our vows. And should we fail, search for the markings of the Band of Three.

—A tattered letter found under a cobblestone in the Gallows. It has curious markings and is signed, "The Band of Three"

*

Chapter Twenty Six

Sometimes Hawke wondered if there was something in the water in Kirkwall, or even in the very air they breathed. This many demons and abominations in one place wasn't natural, surely? Not that there was anything natural about blood magic, of course, but for so many mages to fall prey to it in the one area seemed odd. After battling through the shades, undead, demons and abominations that littered the Sanctuary, they found their way to an underground chamber.

Hawke's midriff lurched as he saw one of his recurring nightmares made flesh: a body, encased in a cage of light. But the young man held in this cage wasn't Fenris, Hawke could only assume it was Keran, but like when they'd found Fenris, they had no idea how to remove him from his prison.

Footsteps had them all turning their head in the direction of the sound. Five mages, four of them hooded, their lower faces masked with extravagant scarves in red and gold and one mage who hadn't even tried to hide her identity. Tarohne, the leader of whatever this was. Tarohne raised her arms and smiled in greeting, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Excellent! More vessels for our experiments."

"What have you done to Keran?" demanded Hawke, in no mood for chitchat.

"Perhaps the demons will find one of you suitable." She smirked in their general direction.

"These mages always fall to the first demon's promise," said Fenris bitterly.

"What is it with you lot?" asked Anders. "Can't you people say no?"

"I am not some hopeless waif that ran crying to a demon! I sought them out and embraced them."

"Why have you taken the recruits?" asked Hawke.

"Demons can inhabit much more than mages and corpses. With assistance they can control anyone I ask. Any noble, any templar, any well-meaning meddlers."

"You do know we cut a path through your abominations, right?"

"Good, good," said Tarohne. "The demons like spirit. If a few more templars fall to the demons, we can seed chaos in their ranks. How many abominations will they discover in their ranks before it drives the Knight-Commander insane?"

"The demons are using you. Fight them! You don't have to do this!" said Hawke, but even as he spoke he knew his words fell on barren ground. They didn't want to listen.

"In days of old, the Tevinter Imperium spanned the known world. Demons were their allies, held in check by power and knowledge. With a wave of a hand, I can do more than a templar can achieve in a lifetime, yet they command us! Absurd! We should be ruling them! We should rule you all!" Tarohne turned to her blood mage companions as she pulled her staff from her back. "Kill the vessels only if you must!"

"Oh, this will be fun!" said Anders, getting his staff ready.

"Another battle is upon us," said Fenris.

"Oh, please," scoffed Varric. "Bianca can handle this lot herself."

*

Hawke hadn't wanted to kill them, but they had no choice in the end. It came down to their lives or the lives of the blood mages. It still didn't make it any easier to bear that he'd killed again. Hawke wondered if you ever got used to that and then fervently hoped he didn't.

He and Anders walked towards the cage of light holding Keran captive. "The magic's fading," said Anders. "Can you feel it?"

Hawke nodded. "Now that the blood mages are dead, their magic won't hold for much longer."

"Mother! The lights!" cried Keran as the cage suddenly dissolved and he plummeted to the ground. Anders was quick to hurry to his aid and helped him to his feet.

Keran was bare-chested, in nothing but his small clothes and he blinked, like someone just returning from a dark cave to sunlight. "Is it over?"

"Keran?" asked Hawke.

"Yes, that's my name." Keran rubbed his neck and shook his head. "Oh, thank the Maker, I thought he had abandoned me."

"But is it only Keran?" queried Varric. "It might be Keran plus one. A very nasty plus one at that."

"The cage has opened, thank Andraste."

"What happened to you Keran? Do you remember how you got here?" asked Hawke.

"I was with a lady... and then things got fuzzy. Dreams, nightmares. On fire for days. A demon laughing. The naked lady with her razor claws in my chest. I thought I was going do die down here. I'd wake and hear screams, sometimes my own. I'm sorry, it's all such a tangle in my head."

"There's no easy way to say this, Keran. You may be possessed by a demon," said Hawke softly.

"What? No! I'm not a mage! I can't be possessed!"

"You can," said Fenris. "Blame the mages who summoned whatever possesses you."

"Hawke, I might be able to check," said Anders. "Determine if he is possessed."

"You can do that?"

"I'll try, at least. Keran, with your permission?" Anders asked.

"Yes, please! Anything! You'll see I'm me, just me."

Anders sent a blast of cold from his hand, Keran cried out at the shock of it and stumbled backwards.

"He's clear," said Anders. "If there'd been a demon in there, it would have tried to protect itself from my spell. He's not possessed."

"You'd be willing to bet your life on it?" asked Fenris. "Hundreds of innocent lives if we're wrong?"

"I'm not wrong!" protested Anders. "But then you never believe a word I say, do you? He's clear, Hawke. I swear it."

"If there's the slightest chance you're possessed the templars have to know. I'm sorry, Keran, we have to tell them."

"Please, I'm me! Don't tell the templars, I don't know what they'd do to me. I need to go back. Tell them I'm all right, tell my sister."

"Cullen is a fair man, he'll be able to help you," said Hawke.

"Help him? The first whiff of blood magic and they'll close ranks!" said Anders. "You can't tell them. Just play down the blood magic angle when you talk to him."

"And how are we supposed to play it down, Anders? The templars need to know what Tarohne and her cohorts were attempting. They need to check the other recruits, see if anyone else has become possessed."

"Fine!" Anders threw his hands up in despair. "But I am not going to be a party to this. You're going to destroy a man's livelihood on the off chance he might be possessed. You don't even believe me when I tell you he isn't! I'm going back to the clinic and hope you come to your senses before you talk to Cullen."

*

Varric settled in beside Hawke on the boat trip to the gallows, staring for a few moments at the water. Carver and Merrill were sitting on the bench in front, Fenris on the other side of Hawke. It was a tight squeeze with the tree of them on the one bench, but Hawke was glad they had both sat beside him. He didn't think he could take Merrill's breezy chatter today, although it didn't seem to bother Carver.

"So, Merrill, you're not like a lot of other girls," said Carver.

"No, I'm an elf."

"Right, Okay, then."

"Oh, did I miss something dirty?" asked Merrill.

"What? No! It wasn't dirty. It wasn't anything."

"Oh? Right, because I miss a lot of dirty things and sometimes I wouldn't mind hearing them."

"Would you now?" asked Carver and Hawke could almost hear the leer in his brother's voice.

"Aren't you going to see Faith later?" asked Hawke, tapping his brother on the shoulder.

Carver turned around and shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. It's not as if we're married or anything."

"That's not what I expected from Blondie," said Varric. "I never thought I'd see the day when he wanted to see a templar keep his job. But you know, Hawke, maybe he's right."

"What do you mean? We shouldn't tell Cullen about the demons?"

"No, no, tell him about the demons all right, that's only sensible. But if Keran and the others did get possessed, don't you think the templars would be the best people to handle it? Let them stay at the Gallows, watched closely and not set loose to roam the city."

"You make a valid point, Varric." Hawke nodded. It would be sensible for Keran to stay with the templars and it surprised him too that Anders had wanted Keran to keep his job, but he'd only wanted that as long as Hawke never mentioned the blood magic to Cullen. Sometimes Hawke felt as if he was walking on a rope high above the ground, with no net to catch his fall.

Once the boat docked at the Gallows, they disembarked and saw Keran being embraced by his sister, Macha. Knight-Captain Cullen smiled as Hawke approached. "The Knight-Commander applauds your quick thinking and thanks you for your help."

Hawke nodded in reply. "Well, the good news is that Keran has returned. The bad news is that blood mages have infiltrated your ranks and have been implanting some of your recruits with demons."

Macha looked up, wide-eyed. "D – demons? Did you say something about the recruits and demons?"

"I didn't want to tell you, Macha. It was too awful," said Keran.

"Sweet blood of Andraste!" gasped Cullen. "Keran, is this allegation true?"

"It was horrible. Those blood mages see the rest of us as ants, ready to be crushed under their heel. They won't stop until they've destroyed the Chantry and the templars for ever."

"It's not surprising this has happened. The mages were bound to rebel sooner or later. They have been systematically abused by the templars for a thousand years," said Hawke.

"How can you say that after what you've seen? Mages cannot be treated like ordinary citizens. They are not ordinary and no amount of arguing will make it so." Cullen glowered at him and folded his arms.

"Surely that's a little harsh?" said Macha, placing a hand on her brother's arm.

"Maybe we shouldn't be arguing with the templar captain," said Carver in a low voice. "Smile and nod. Smile and nod till we get out of here."

"They are weapons!" Cullen insisted.

"Mages are humans and elves, just like the rest of us," persisted Hawke.

"Many might go their whole lives thinking that. But if even one in ten falls to the lure of blood magic, they could destroy this world. They have the power to light a city on fire in a fit of pique!"

"That does reduce their bargaining power somewhat," said Hawke. "But there has to be a better way to balance it, though. Mages have been abused by templars before."

"Perhaps you're right," replied Cullen. "Perhaps mages need better education as to why the Chantry functions as it does. Perhaps they would not go against the will of Andraste herself. I will look into it."

"Tarohne, the blood mage, was crazy. But magic or the demons didn't make her that way."

"True, Messire Hawke, not every mage gives into temptation. But none are ever free of it. At any time, any mage can become a monster, from the lowest apprentice to the most seasoned enchanters."

"The situation is dealt with," said Hawke. "Tarohne and her cohorts are dead. Who is right and wrong now is academic."

"Wrong!" Cullen snapped. "This is not some stuffy scholar's debate! This is the central fact of the world that Andraste recognised. Ah." Cullen sighed. "But I will not preach." Cullen turned to Keran. "So you have been in contact with blood mages. In lieu of that, I must strip you of your commission."

"Please, ser! I need this position or my sister can't eat. I'll prove I'm loyal, ask me anything! I tried to resist, I never took anything they offered!"

"Keran is not to blame," said Fenris, surprising Hawke. "But tell that to his victims if it turns out our suspicions are correct."

"What say you, Serah Hawke?" asked Cullen.

"Keran did nothing wrong. He was kidnapped and tortured, he shouldn't lose his position over something he had no control over. If it turns out he does harbour a demon, wouldn't he be better watched at the Gallows than in the city? The templars are trained to deal with abominations, the city populace is not."

"Perhaps you're right. Very well, Keran. You may keep your status and if you haven't shown any sign of demonic possessions within ten years time, you will become eligible for a full knighthood."

"Thank you, Ser Cullen. You won't regret this, I promise," said Keran.

"Yes, thank you," said Macha. "But without a full knighthood, Keran's pay is so low. I fear I may not be able to pay you as you deserve, Serah Hawke."

"I will handle that, Miss," said Cullen. "Keran, why don't you take your sister to the visitors' parlour and you two can catch up properly. You may take the rest of the day off, but I want you on duty first thing tomorrow morning."

Keran bowed. "Yes, Ser Cullen. Thank you again."

As the brother and sister walked away, Cullen sighed. "I hope I haven't been too lenient. This is very worrying."

"You said you were from Ferelden," said Hawke. "How did you end up here?"

"I was in the Circle Tower in Ferelden during the Blight when Uldred summoned his demons. I was held in a cage for... I don't know, I can't even say... weeks... months? It was one unending nightmare. I watched what those mages did – what they became. I would gladly give my life to avoid seeing that again."

"Do you like being a templar? Do you feel you're achieving anything?"

"The templars are not a good choice for anyone who wants a strong sense of achievement. It is a losing battle. Every day new mages are born in Thedas and every day those born a dozen years ago come into their powers. The best we can do is to contain the threat, but it is never gone, not completely. And recruit more to fill our own ranks."

"Well, once someone admits to consorting with demons, it's a little easier to take sides," said Hawke.

"That is quite an unpopular viewpoint," said Cullen.

"But a sensible one," said Fenris.

Cullen stared at the statues around the Gallows. "It used to be that templars were welcomed wherever we went, for defending people from dark magics. Now the townsfolk are as likely to slam their doors than offer us a bed. The image of the poor, chained apprentice is a powerful one. And one that the mages are only too willing to exploit. I shudder to think what the Knight-Commander will make of this blood mages' plot, but at least it is over."

"I've heard a lot about the Knight-Commander. What's she really like?" asked Hawke.

"She is not an easy task master. But it it not an easy task. I would not have liked her when I was younger, I thought mages deserved a softer touch. But Meredith is never fooled by a sweet face. She always sees the demon behind it. Thank you again for your help. You have done the Order a great service, we will not forget it. And now I must return to my duties." Cullen handed Hawke a leather pouch clinking with coins, before heading off to Templar Hall.

"Ooh, I'm glad that's over," said Merrill. "He doesn't seem to like blood mages, does he?"

"No one likes blood mages," sneered Fenris. "They are foul and unnatural creatures who should be put down like a rabid dog."

Merrill's lip trembled and she turned away, as if to hide tears before they fell.

"Nice to see where you stand on the debate, Broody," said Varric, frowning at Fenris. "Daisy, how about I take you home? Didn't you say Arianni was going to visit you today?"

Merrill nodded and followed Varric down to the boats. "You don't need to be so hard on her," said Carver. "Merrill's a sweetheart, really. She's not dangerous, not like a real blood mage."

"She is a real blood mage! She summoned demons to increase her powers, that's what blood mages do! Would you be so quick to defend her if she used your blood? Or your brother's? She is only one step away from sacrificing others to her cause."

"Can we stop arguing about this?" said Hawke, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm getting a headache. I've had enough for today."

"You've been getting a lot of headaches recently, Brother. Perhaps you need to see Anders?"

"And perhaps I just need some peace and quiet," hissed Hawke, and marched off towards the market stalls lining the Gallows, leaving Carver and Fenris staring after him.

Hawke wasn't even sure if he wanted either of them to follow him.

Chapter Text

Codex Entry:

The Raiders of the Waking Sea—or simply, the Raiders—is the common name given to an association of Antivan pirates called the Felicisima Armada. These pirates were once little more than opportunists, based out of the coastal city of Llomerryn, that preyed on sea traffic. They were often targeted by Orlesian and Free Marcher cities that were bent on destroying the pirates once and for all. After each such effort, new pirates would appear to fill the vacuum.

During the New Exalted Marches, the nations of Thedas needed every ship they could muster against the massive power of the Qunari dreadnoughts. The Llomerryn pirates were faced with a difficult decision: they had to band together under one flag and fight with those they had previously preyed upon or face conversion and annihilation by the Qunari.

Thus the Armada was formed. The pirates brought their knowledge of stealth and trickery to bear, plaguing Qunari supply lines and even launching seaborne invasions against the Qunari coast. For a time it was said the Armada was the premier naval power of Thedas, and after the signing of the Llomerryn Accord, they maintained their association rather than disband as many had hoped.

Wealthy merchants now often pay the leaders of the Armada rather than risking their ships commandeered and their merchandise stolen and sold on the black market. The Armada is hardly unified, and bloody battles between Armada leaders are frequent, but when faced with an attack by outsiders, the group instantly puts aside their differences and closes ranks; the raiders have thus become far more of a threat in the last century than they ever were before.

There is many a legend told about how dashing and romantic life aboard a Raider vessel is, but don't believe it. They are scoundrels and smugglers all.

—From The Dowager's Field Guide to Good Society, by Lady Alcyone

***

Chapter Twenty Seven

Two days later, Fenris found himself in the Hanged Man, not entirely sure what he was doing there. Varric waved to him from his table at the back. "Broody. No Hawke today?"

"He's taken his mother shopping, or is it the other way around? I think she wanted to get him a new shirt."

"Ah. He may be some time then," said Varric. "Can I get you anything? Some ale, or you prefer wine, don't you? It's on me."

"Thank you, a wine would be welcome," replied Fenris, sitting down next to Varric. Varric called Norah over and ordered a tankard of ale and a goblet of red wine. Fenris wondered how Varric knew he preferred red wine over white.

"Have you come to see me?" asked Varric. "I've been asking around, but no jobs as of yet. Something will turn up though, it usually does."

"Um... I'm actually here to speak to Isabela. Is she here?"

"The pirate's here, but you might want to wait a bit before you go to her room. She has another visitor today, Merrill."

"Oh," said Fenris, feeling his face heat at what he'd said the other day. Since then, he'd had a nightmare that Hawke would ask for his ribbon back. That if Fenris couldn't be civil with other mages, then Hawke wanted nothing to do with him. The dream hadn't come true so far, but how much maligning of magic would Hawke put up with before he gave up on Fenris altogether? Would they even stay friends, never mind anything else?

"Let me ask you something, Broody. Have you ever made a mistake in your life?" Varric nodded his thanks to Norah as she set down a tankard of ale and a goblet of red wine for Fenris on the table.

"Of course. Everyone makes mistakes." Fenris toyed with the stem of the goblet, not meeting Varric's eyes.

"Uh-huh, that they do, my friend, that they do. Now, some people, they learn from their mistakes and sometimes they wish that they could go back in time and prevent it in the first place. But even with magic, we don't have that option. Now, Daisy, she's made one hell of a mistake. But no matter how much she wants to, she can never change it. Even if she never uses blood magic again, she is still a blood mage and always will be. There's no going back from that, ever. Even if she regrets it, she can't get out of it. There is no way out of it."

"Because the demon wouldn't allow it," said Fenris, nodding his head. "The demon would never allow her to break the contract. Perhaps I have been too harsh with her. I have problems with magic, Varric, and I suspect I always will. If I seem bitter, it is not without cause."

"I know that, Fenris. Magic has put its mark on you, and you don't have the option of forgetting it, because it's right there on your skin. You see it every day, you feel it every day. Now, I'm not condoning blood magic, I think it's rather idiotic to make a deal with a demon. They don't always play fair, do they? But, Merrill, she wanted to help her clan. That's why she got started with blood magic. She was foolish, yes, but I don't think she was doing it out of malicious intent. She wanted to help and I'll bet there are any number of demons in the Fade just waiting for a foolish mage to ambush. Merrill probably thought the demon was helping her. At first."

Fenris tried to think, tried to gauge Merrill's personality. Had he let the fact that she was a blood mage blind him to what she was really like? In his meagre dealings with her, she hadn't seemed malicious. She didn't seem to take joy in killing or hurting others. She used blood sometimes to fuel her magic, but not once had Fenris seen her use another's blood. It had always been her own. The magisters in Tevinter would never use their own blood: each had a warehouse full of slaves who were used to fuel blood magic. Perhaps he had judged her too harshly.

"I do not think Merrill and I will ever get along perfectly," said Fenris. "But perhaps I was too quick to judge. I have never met a blood mage who hasn't used others for their own gain. But I have never seen her do that."

"It's understandable, Fenris, after what magic has put you through. It's almost like a phobia. One of my cousins, he got bitten on the arm by a dog when he was a child. He's been terrified of them ever since. Won't go near anything with four legs, not even a nug, even though a nug doesn't bite. It's a reaction from his earlier experience. You're like that with magic, any magic, even if it was not meant to harm."

Fenris nodded. "You are very observant, Varric."

Varric grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, I'm a story teller, what can I say? I watch and listen, watch and learn. Oh, here's Isabela now." Varric's eyes widened as he stared at something behind Fenris. "Well, my observation skills must need a re-tune, Broody, for I didn't see that coming at all."

Fenris turned and faced the stairs. At the top of them, outside Varric's suite door, Isabela was indeed standing there. But she wasn't alone. Merrill and Isabela had their arms wrapped around each other, then Isabela leaned over to whisper something in Merrill's ear. The elf giggled and blushed, hugging Isabela even tighter and lifting her head up for a kiss, which Isabeal was quick to grant.

"Isabela and Merrill?" queried Fenris, turning back to Varric. "I did not know those two were involved."

"Neither did I, and I usually know what's going on around here. Isabela certainly kept that quiet. Usually, you can't get her to shut up about her conquests."

"Is that what this is? Do you think she is just pursuing Merrill as another conquest?"

"Careful there, Broody. Anybody would think you were worried about Merrill's welfare."

Fenris had no answer to that. The two women soon came downstairs and hovered by Varric's table.

"Hello, Fenris," Merrill said politely. Fenris nodded at her and Isabela "Oh, Varric! I almost forgot," said Merrill, reaching into a pocket and fishing out a ball of twine. "It really helped."

"You made it back to the Alienage in one piece, then?" asked Varric.

"I don't know how I wound up in Darktown. There are just too many corners in Kirkwall. But you should have your twine back."

"No, you keep it, Daisy. Never know when it might come in handy. You can use it tie a parcel or dress a roast chicken."

"Why would I want to put a dress on a chicken?" asked Merrill, wide-eyed.

"Oh, Kitten," said Isabela. "You are priceless." Isabela hugged Merrill from behind and rested her head on Merrill's shoulder, her arms wrapped around Merrill's waist.

Varric nodded towards them. "So, how long has this been going on, then? You and Merrill?"

"Not long," said Isabela. "But we're just taking each day as it comes."

"Not with Hawke today, Fenris?" Isabela rasied her eyebrows at him, making Fenris blush. Did everyone know of his and Hawke's relationship?

"His mother has taken him shopping. I actually came to see you, Isabela."

"Me? My, how intriguing. And what do yo need to see me about?"

"Could we perhaps discuss this somewhere a bit more private?" The taproom of the Hanged Man wasn't the best place to have intimate conversations.

"Sure. Varric, can we use your suite? My rooms are in a bit of a state at the moment. I haven't tidied up yet after Merrill's visit."

"Of course. Just don't go interfering with my letters to the Merchants' Guild again. Do you know how many sovereigns I had to pay to calm Worthy down?"

"Fine. Pirate's honour," said Isabela, sticking her tonge out at Varric. Fenris followed her upstairs to Varric's suite, wondering how to best broach the subject. He and Isabela weren't exactly friends, but he didn't know who else to ask. He couldn't ask Hawke about this, because indirectly it was about Hawke.

Isabela sat down, crossed her legs and set her elbows on the table. "So, Fenris. What did you want to talk to me about? This is all very mysterious."

Fenris leaned a hip against the table and traced the geometric design etched on the top of it. "I am not sure how to begin. You strike me as a woman who knows her own mind, both in the bedroom and out of it." Isbela's eyes widened at that. "But sometimes I sense – I sense there is a sadness in you, a similar sadness to my own. Am I wrong?"

"How in the Maker did you know that?" Isabela shook her head. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. What I tell you stays in this room, between us, are we clear? You don't tell anyone about this, not even Hawke. Do I have your promise?"

"I promise," said Fenris.

"When I was seven years old, Rivain was invaded by the Qunari and it was occupied for a few years. My mother eventually converted to the Qun and she wanted me to convert as well. You can imagine what a little girl thought of the Qunari. Giants with horns speaking no language I'd ever heard before. I was terrified and refused to be converted. I was half-afraid they ate children and I didn't want to be on the menu. It just so happened that the captain of The Siren's Call had seen me in the market with my mother one day and he offered to buy me. My mother couldn't get rid of me fast enough. He paid five sovereigns, I believe."

"You were his slave?" Fenris asked.

Isabela laughed harshly. "I was his bride."

"His bride? But you were only a child!"

"Indeed, but that didn't stop Luis. He wanted me and he took me wherever and whenever the mood took him. Most usually in front of the men on the ship. At first, he didn't share me, but gradually as the years went by, I was a plaything for most of the crew, and any business associates he wanted to impress. This went on for years and for a time I was so lost in despair that I didn't see any way out of it. I wanted to kill him, but I was guarded constantly and weapons were never in my reach. I couldn't get to him. In the end I didn't need to. Luis raped the wrong nobleman's daughter and her father sent the Antivan Crows after him. He died, so did his men and I was the proud owner of a ship I had no idea how to sail at all of fourteen years old."

"I had no idea," Fenris said. "What you've been through."

"No one does, Fenris, and I want to keep it that way."

"I hope the bastard suffered before he died," said Fenris harshly.

"Oh, he did," said Isabela. "Zevran was an artist in pain. He was the first man I was ever comfortable with, as he was the first man I'd ever come across who didn't want to bed me. I was going to use my body as a thank you, but he refused me. Said that sort of payment was not required."

"You suffered so much at that man's hands and yet..." Fenris trailed off.

"And yet I enjoy sex? Is that what you wanted to ask, Fenris?"

He nodded, feeling perhaps he had crossed a line. This was all very personal and perhaps Isabela didn't want to speak of it further.

"I didn't, not at first. Even when it wasn't rape, sex wasn't pleasurable for a long time. Then I met Zevran years later in Denerim. I had a bit of a crush on him to be honest, the princess rescued from the nasty ship captain and I held him in awe. Now that I was older, he seemed more amenable to my womanly charms, although he likes both genders. I was more confident too, not the cowering girl he remembered. At first, it was all bravado on my part, I pretended to like the sex, but he knew I wasn't really enjoying it."

"What happened?"

"He stopped what we were doing and got me to talk, really talk and everything poured out of me. My mother's betrayal, the rapes on the ship and how I felt used and dirty and no one would ever want me for me, I was just a body to them. I was crying and sobbing in his arms, I felt so ashamed, as if everything that happened to me was my own fault."

"It felt like that for me, too," Fenris said quietly.

Isabela nodded. "You get it, Fenris, you understand it and so did he. He'd been sold to a brothel as a babe and then later sold to the Crows. He explained to me that making love was as different to rape as night was to day. It was an act of violence, not love and the two were not connected. The difference was if you wanted it or not. 'Your body is not a cause for shame. Nothing you do with another person is shameful, not if you both want it.' A few days later, I sought him out again and told him I wanted to be with him, I wanted to make love. And that's what we did. It was different, Fenris, I could feel the difference in every caress. I decided that night that I was no longer going to let Luis sully what could be so good. It was my body, I could do what I wanted with it and I would no longer feel ashamed just beause I liked sex with someone. I know what people call me, let them call me a slut or a tramp or a bitch, but I don't care anymore. Nothing could be worse than what Luis and those men did. I make no apologies for liking sex, or making love, whatever you want to call it."

"Thank you for telling me this, Isabela. It can't have been easy to relive those memories again."

"It was difficult, but I trust you, Fenris. I know you won't betray my confidences. And as you said, they're memories. Memories can't hurt me. I'm also a dab hand with a blade these days, Zevran taught me well. This is about you and Hawke, isn't it?"

Fenris sat down on a chair around the table and leaned his head in his hands. "I don't know what to do." He glanced up at her. "I know I have feelings for him, and I know he has feelings for me. But how long will he be satisfied with kisses and embraces? What if I'm never ready for more? The thought of it terrifies me and yet it shouldn't. I know Hawke would never hurt me and he wouldn't do anything against my will, so why do I still have this fear?"

"That's not something I can answer, Fenris. Maybe that is something you need to talk with Hawke about."

Maybe it was, at that.

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: Andraste, Bride of the Maker

There was once a tiny fishing village on the Waking Sea that was set upon by the Tevinter Imperium, which enslaved the villagers to be sold in the markets of Minrathous, leaving behind only the old and the infirm. One of the captives was the child Andraste.

She was raised in slavery in a foreign land. She escaped, then made the long and treacherous journey back to her homeland alone. She rose from nothing to be the wife of an Alamarri warlord.

Each day she sang to the gods, asking them to help her people who remained slaves in Tevinter. The false gods of the mountains and the winds did not answer her, but the true god did.

The Maker spoke. He showed her all the works of His hands: the Fade, the world, and all the creatures therein. He showed her how men had forgotten Him, lavishing devotion upon mute idols and demons, and how He had left them to their fate. But her voice had reached Him, and so captivated Him that He offered her a place at His side, that she might rule all of creation.

But Andraste would not forsake her people.

She begged the Maker to return, to save His children from the cruelty of the Imperium. Reluctantly, the Maker agreed to give man another chance.

Andraste went back to her husband, Maferath, and told him all that the Maker had revealed to her. Together, they rallied the Alamarri and marched forth against the mage-lords of the Imperium, and the Maker was with them.

The Maker's sword was creation itself: fire and flood, famine and earthquake. Everywhere they went, Andraste sang to the people of the Maker, and they heard her. The ranks of Andraste's followers grew until they were a vast tide washing over the Imperium. And when Maferath saw that the people loved Andraste and not him, a worm grew within his heart, gnawing upon it.

At last, the armies of Andraste and Maferath stood before the very gates of Minrathous, but Andraste was not with them.

For Maferath had schemed in secret to hand Andraste over to the Tevinter. For this, the archon would give Maferath all the lands to the south of the Waking Sea.

And so, before all the armies of the Alamarri and of Tevinter, Andraste was tied to a stake and burned while her earthly husband turned his armies aside and did nothing, for his heart had been devoured. But as he watched the pyre, the archon softened. He took pity on Andraste, and drew his sword, and granted her the mercy of a quick death.

The Maker wept for His Beloved, cursed Maferath, cursed mankind for their betrayal, and turned once again from creation, taking only Andraste with him. And Our Lady sits still at his side, where she still urges Him to take pity on His children.

--From The Sermons of Justinia II.

*

They found Sebastian in the Chantry, praying in front of the giant statue of Andraste. Candles littered the base of the altar, some lit, some almost melted into puddles of red wax. Hawke waited until Sebastian finished his prayers. His armour glittered in the candlelight.

"May I help you?" asked Sebastian. "Have you come for confession?"

"Your family can rest now. Their killers are gone," said Hawke.

"What? Excuse me, who are you?" asked Sebastian. "My post to the Chanters' Board, her grace let that stay? I thought for sure no one even read... but you say you've killed them? You have my eternal gratitude, serah. It is comforting to think my parents might now rest easily in their graves."

"I'm Aemond Hawke. Can you tell me about yourself?" asked Hawke. "Who are you, exactly?"

"My name is Sebastian Vael, Prince of Starkhaven. Her grace might prefer that I introduce myself as a brother in the Chantry, but I could not stay after what happened to my family."

"Starkhaven? Isn't that where the Circle Tower just burned down?" Hawke remembered hearing some vague rumours about that at the Hanged Man.

Sebastian nodded. "Yes, I believe that was part of the same strike against my family. In one instant we lost our mages, our templars, everyone my parents used to call on for protection."

"Why didn't your family's enemies hunt you down as well?"

"That's why I took the offensive. Thanks to you, those Flint company assassins are no longer a threat. I'm the last of my line. Unless I survive, my family will have no justice."

"Do you know who sent these mercenaries?"

"No, but any powerful family has enemies. People jealous of their position, political rivals, the list is endless. My family has ruled Starkhaven for six generations. We have enemies, but none who would announce themselves openly. A distant cousin of mine is claiming ruler ship now, but he is... a bit simple. He can be no more than a pawn in this plot. Someone is working from the shadows."

"I hope your family can rest easier now that their killers are dealt with."

"Thank you, more than I can say. I truly did not expect anyone but me to take up this cause." Sebastian handed a velvet pouch clinking with coins to Hawke. "Consider this an advance. When I have secured my lands again, you will be paid royally, Serah Hawke."

"Is that supposed to be Andraste's face on your crotch?" asked Anders, glancing at Sebastian's ornate belt buckle.

"I beg your pardon?" Sebastian's eyebrows rose.

"That... belt buckle thing. Is that Andraste?" Anders persisted.

"My father had this armour commissioned when I took my vows as a brother. And is it indeed Andraste, so I know she is always watching over me."

Anders snorted with amusement. "I'm just not sure I'd want the Maker seeing me shove His bride's head between my legs every morning."

"If you'll excuse me," said Sebastian. "I must meet with the viscount to petition him for aid for a fellow city." And then, Sebastian and his blinding white armour were gone.

Hawke was pleased at Varric's restraint until they were outside of the Chantry itself before asking how much money Sebastian had given them. Hawke opened the drawstring and peered into the velvet pouch. "Five sovereigns."

"Not bad, we'll soon be getting enough for this expedition after all. Who's up for a drink at the Hanged Man?"

*

For their fourth official date, as it were, Hawke decided he and Fenris should go for a walk along the Wounded Coast and take a picnic. Varric had laughed when Hawke told him of their plans.

"Hawke, my friend, the day you decide to have a romantic stroll along the beach is the day it will get invaded by undead pirates. Have you learned nothing about your time in Kirkwall? Trouble seems drawn to you, or haven't you noticed?"

"Oh, I've noticed," replied Hawke. "But undead pirates or not, we are still going to have our picnic, isn't that right, Fenris?"

Fenris smiled and nodded. "Indeed. We will no doubt be able to fend off these imaginary pirates if they do in fact, invade."

"No doubt," said Varric. "And speaking of pirates, you've been spending a bit of time with Isabela recently, Broody. A few rumours have been flying around about you and the Rivaini."

"What?" demanded Fenris, blushing. "What's she been saying?"

"Nothing. It's just a few of the Hanged Man's finest clientele having a bit of a gossip, you know what they're like. They're taking bets on how good a kisser you are."

"There has been no kissing!" Fenris protested. "We talked, that is all! There is nothing going on between Isabela and me!"

Varric chuckled and slapped his thigh. "I know that, Fenris. Don't mind me, I'm just stirring the pot a little. It's such fun to see you lose your composure every now and then. You don't have to be stoic all the time, you know."

"Varric," Hawke warned. He didn't want Fenris in a bad mood before they'd even started their walk. Fenris could be prickly about the strangest things. Hawke knew Varric didn't mean anything vicious with his teasing, but Fenris wasn't used to that sort of friendly banter from his time as a slave.

"All right, all right." Varric held up his hands in defeat. "Off you go on your romantic trip. Don't worry about little old me. I'll just be in the corner sitting quietly and working on my next book."

Varric sounded so despondent that Hawke was half-tempted to invite him along on their outing, but Fenris gave him a nudge in the ribs and a dark look, the warning obvious. This trip was for the two of them to be alone, not to have everyone tagging along with them. Hawke nodded, said goodbye to Varric and lifted up the picnic basket Leandra had prepared for them.

As they made their way to the Wounded Coast, conversation between them was almost non-existent, their most profound words comments on the weather. Had things between them become so bad already that they couldn't even talk to each other? Despite knowing Varric had only been teasing, Hawke still worried a bit. Fenris had been spending quite a bit of time with Isabela lately. For the past few weeks Hawke had the distinct impression that Fenris had wanted to confide in him about something, but circumstances had so far prevented that conversation. Either they were all together on jobs, or there was no privacy in Gamlen's house or something else turned up. They needed this time alone and Hawke was determined that they got more time to themselves in future.

"Here looks like a good spot," said Hawke as they reached the summit of a winding cliff path. Caverns dotted the hills behind them and trees sheltered them a bit from the wind. Up here they could just about hear the surf crashing against the rocks below, the water rough and white-capped today. Hawke was glad they were on dry land and not on a boat on the rough seas. He had never been a good sailor and felt a bit ill just looking at the rushing water.

"It's a beautiful view," said Fenris, as he shielded his eyes from the sun and stared down at the water below them.

"Yes, it is," said Hawke, feeling his breath catch as he stared at Fenris in turn. Maker, how could one man be so beautiful? It must be against some law of nature, surely? Fenris was lithe but sturdy, well-muscled with all his warrior training. His mouth was a perfect bow of strawberry red, just begging to be kissed and his eyes! Maker, Hawke had no words that could do Fenris' green eyes justice. Sometimes they were the colour of moss, sometimes they seemed the deep aquamarine of the ocean. Fenris turned from his scrutiny of the sea and smiled at Hawke, making Hawke's belly flutter as if hundreds of butterflies there were spreading their wings. If Fenris was smiling, that meant things were good, didn't it?

Hawke blushed and busied himself with spreading out the picnic blanket and removing food from their basket. Fenris knelt down and helped him prepare the picnic.

"Your mother did realise it was just the two of us, didn't she?" Fenris asked, glancing down at the expanse of food and drink now laid out before them. "There's enough here to feed an army." Fenris looked up at Hawke from beneath his lashes and grinned. "Or maybe she knew how much you eat. An army of one."

"Hey, I'm still growing," said Hawke. "I need a lot of energy."

"Do you now? And what might this energy be used for, hmm?" Fenris trailed a hand up Hawke's bare arm and left it there, casually stroking it. Hawke gaped at him. Was Fenris flirting with him? Or maybe Hawke was reading too much into a casual touch. But Hawke knew that Fenris didn't really do casual touching. After his experiences as a slave that was hardly surprising. "I'm glad you decided to bring me here, Hawke. I like to spend time with you when it's just the two of us, is that very selfish of me?"

"No, I like it too, Fenris. Maybe we should make a point of doing it more often."

"That sounds good. I like our friends, but sometimes it's nice just to be alone with you. Sometimes I watch you when we're on a mission and I can't stop thinking about kissing you, or the way you hold me in your arms. Sometimes, sometimes I crave it with a hunger I never knew I could experience." Fenris flushed and hung his head at the admission.

Hawke was astounded at the confession. "Really? Why didn't you say anything?"

Fenris shrugged his shoulders. "I am unsure of the answer to that. I – I have wanted to be more intimate with you for some time, but I didn't quite know how to broach the subject. I went to Isabela for advice."

Hawke couldn't help it, he burst out into a fit of giggles like a schoolboy. Fenris glowered at him. Hawke held his side, gasping for breath through his laughter. "Sorry, Fenris! It's just – Isabela? For relationship advice?"

"Don't disparage her efforts. It was good advice," said Fenris. "She told me I needed to talk to you about things. About this fear I still have."

Hawke sobered at once. "Fenris, I would never do anything to hurt you. I swear it."

"I know, Hawke. I know it, but still I sometimes feel frightened at the intensity of my feelings. I might not be a very good lover. I don't want to disappoint you."

Hawke cupped Fenris' face in his hands and tilted Fenris' head up to stare into his eyes. "Fenris, you will never be a disappointment to me. I'm not exactly fantastic lover material myself, am I? I've never done anything sexual with another person before, never. It might be me who makes a fool of myself and disappoints you."

Fenris laughed, his head rolling back. "Maybe we can see about disappointing each other later, hmm?"

Hawke nodded, his throat tight. "I think I'd like that very much, Fenris."

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: Sexuality in Thedas

Codex text
What I find most interesting is that, despite the lack of open discussion on matters of human sexuality, there is commonality to be found on the subject in all Andrastian lands.

Typically, ones sexual habits are considered natural and separate from matters of procreation, and only among the nobility, where procreation involves issues of inheritance and the union of powerful families, is it considered of vital importance.

Yet, even there, a noble who has done their duty to the family might be allowed to pursue their own sexual interests without raising eyebrows. The view on indulging lusts with a member of the same gender varies from land to land.

In Orlais, it is considered a quirk of character and nothing more. In Ferelden, it is a matter of scandal if done indiscreetly but otherwise nothing noteworthy. In Tevinter, it is considered selfish and deviant behaviour among nobles, but actively encouraged with favoured slaves. Nowhere is it forbidden, and sex of any kind is only considered worthy of judgement when taken to awful excess or performed in the public eye.

—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar by Brother Genitivi

*

Chapter Twenty Nine

They'd kissed before, of course, but like those other times Hawke was conscious of where to put his hands. Would a caress to Fenris' neck be okay? Or should he place his arms around him? His back, or his hips? Would Fenris be uncomfortable with that? In the end, with his worry over what Fenris might or might not allow, had Hawke a nervous wreck and he was not enjoying their kissing as much as he ought to. Fenris had said he wanted to be more intimate, but what exactly did that mean? Would he allow Hawke to touch him, caress him? Or did he just mean more kissing? Hawke's mind was in a turmoil. He didn't want to do anything that would make Fenris uncomfortable, so in the end he did nothing, just rested his hands on the sand and grass beneath them, even though he was aching with the want of having Fenris in his arms.

Fenris was sitting in his lap, Hawke's back resting against the trunk of a tree. The ruin of their picnic lay in a scattered heap on the blanket and sand. Fenris pulled away from their kissing and rested his forehead against Hawke's. "Hawke, you're over thinking this," Fenris said softly.

"How did you know?"

"You have a little frown between your eyes when you're thinking too hard." Fenris smiled at him then and Hawke's heart did a little jig in his chest. "I want us to enjoy ourselves, Hawke. Not have you worrying over every little thing."

"I just don't want to make you uncomfortable," replied Hawke. "I don't want anything to remind you of - "

"I know, Amatus," said Fenris. "And I am grateful that you even thought of it. Just do what you feel like doing. You don't have to ask every few minutes if I'm all right. I'll let you know if I don't like something, and you'll do the same for me. Okay?"

Hawke nodded, although he couldn't imagine he would dislike anything Fenris wanted to do to him. Fenris could have tied him naked to the tree and had his wicked way with him and Hawke would not have voiced one complaint. He smiled up at Fenris and tugged his head down for a longer, deeper kiss. Fenris always tasted so good. He lost himself in the sensation of kissing Fenris and moaned, low in his throat, unable to stifle the sound any longer and worried that Fenris would pull away now. But he didn't. Fenris placed his hands on Hawke's shoulders and deepened their kiss, his tongue lapping at Hawke's lips. Hawke parted his lips and tangled his tongue with Fenris', the elf's grip on his shoulder tightened and now it was Fenris' turn to moan.

Hawke wrapped his arms around Fenris' back and tried to keep his lower body still. His cock hardened with every kiss and he ached to thrust, to crush Fenris against him even more. It took all of his concentration not to do it; he wanted Fenris to know that Hawke was letting him control this, whatever this was. Fenris had to set the pace, Hawke knew that, and he didn't want to do anything that would frighten him off or remind him of past abuses. This wasn't about Hawke getting off, this was about showing Fenris that he could trust Hawke to only do what Fenris would allow and no more.

They kissed some more, their breaths harsh and ragged in each other's mouth as they kissed and kissed. After a while, Fenris shifted his hips closer to Hawke's and Hawke pulled away from the kiss in surprise. Fenris was hard and rocking his erection against Hawke's. Fenris was frantic, bucking and writhing within Hawke's arms.

"Hawke, please!" Fenris begged.

"Fenris? What do you want me to do?"

"Touch me, Hawke. Please. Sometimes the erection doesn't last. I want to feel your hands on me."

"If you're sure?"

"Maker, yes! I'm sure! Touch me!" Fenris pouted then and Hawke couldn't resist taking Fenris' bottom lip between his own and nipping lightly on it. Fenris whined and arched his hips.

Hawke didn't need a second invitation. His hands reached for the laces on Fenris' leather breeches and he undid them as quickly as his shaking hands would allow. There was a small wet patch on the front of Fenris' underlinens, the evidence of his excitement going some way to assuage Hawke's fears. Fenris wanted this. Fenris wanted Hawke to do this for him. This was not abuse, this was two people showing each other they cared in a physical way.

Hawke slid his hands inside the elf's underwear and gasped as a surge of pleasure soared through him as he touched Fenris' cock. Fenris' cock was ridged with lyrium lines and Hawke's mana reacted inside him. Fenris was gasping now, his whole body flaring blue as his markings lit up the area around them. "Please!" Fenris begged, his hips bucking once more.

Hawke grasped Fenris' cock in his fist and stroked it in a steady rhythm from root to tip and back again. His own cock throbbed like a second heartbeat, but Hawke was watching Fenris' face, so keen to see him lost in pleasure that Hawke's needs took second place. It was fascinating to watch the expressions of Fenris' face as he strived for his peak. Hawke didn't linger, didn't tease, for he guessed that if Fenris sometimes lost the erection, he wanted to come as soon as possible.

"Kiss me," said Fenris with a breathy gasp. "I want to be kissing you when I come."

That was certainly no hardship. Hawke lifted his head and kissed Fenris deeply, his hand never once losing its rhythm on Fenris' cock. Fenris' cock in his hand seem to twitch and swell and from the ragged moans coming from Fenris' throat, Hawke knew it wouldn't be long now before Fenris was coming all over his hand. Hawke didn't think the thought of that should excite him so much, but it did. He needed to feel it. He needed to feel Fenris come, to know that Fenris could still find pleasure after all that had happened to him in the past.

Fenris pulled away from their kiss, his hold tightening on Hawke's shoulders. He shuddered on Hawke's lap and then he was coming, bathing Hawke's hand in drops of pearl. Fenris was glorious in his abandonment and Hawke stared at him with something approaching awe. Fenris had always been beautiful, but this, the bliss on Fenris' face as he climaxed was something so private that Hawke felt privileged to see it.

Fenris was covered in a light sheen of sweat and his hair was plastered to his forehead, his eyes ablaze with an inner glow. He looked down at Hawke and smiled and Hawke felt his heart flutter at seeing that smile. "Are you all right?" Hawke asked, needing to know the answer.

"I am, Hawke. Thank you. But I think we need to take care of you, don't we?" Fenris leaned down and nipped at Hawke's neck, where neck met shoulder, while his hands busied themselves at the laces on Hawke's trousers.

"Fenris, you don't have to do that, not if you don't want to."

"I want to, Hawke. Let me do this for you, that is what lovers do, is it not? They please each other?"

Hawke nodded, swallowing the saliva that had gathered in his mouth. How many nights had he lain awake on the top bunk and imagined this? Fenris' hands on him, Fenris giving him pleasure as Hawke did the same. Hawke had no experience with which to compare. The only hands that had been on his body before were his own.

"Then let me do this for you."

"Yes," Hawke said softly, unable to voice any more objections. If Fenris wanted this, then so did he.

And now he would finally get to feel what he'd only ever dreamed of before: Fenris' hands on his body. Hawke shuddered with desire at just the thought of it. Fenris cupped Hawke's face in his hands and kissed him deeply, but tenderly and Hawke felt his toes curl. Fenris made him feel cherished in that moment. Hawke wrapped his arms around Fenris' back and clawed at the elf's tunic, needing to get closer, ever more closer. Fenris pulled away from their kiss, both of them gasping for breath.

"As much as I love kissing you, Amatus, I need to concentrate," said Fenris with a soft smile and then began with his torture of Hawke's body. Blissful, exquisite torture. Fenris didn't go straight to Hawke's cock, oh no, even though it was standing almost vertical from Hawke's body and demanding attention. No, Fenris decided that he needed to try a detour first, his hands roving beneath Hawke's shirt, skimming his sides and chest. When Fenris' lyrium-lined fingers pinched Hawke's nipple and then the other, Hawke yowled like a tomcat and his hips bucked of their own accord. His lower body just wouldn't stay still. "Fenris!" Hawke gasped as pleasure soared through him. He hadn't known his nipples were so sensitive, he'd never really played with him before.

His cock was jerking against his abdomen, precome dripping from it already. Hawke thought he might be able to come from this stimulation alone; Fenris playing with his nipples and being pinned by that moss-green gaze. Fenris had always been intense and to have all that intensity focused on him was disconcerting. Hawke licked his lips and Fenris followed the movement of his tongue, his own eyes darkening with lust. With hunger. Fenris' cock was hardening again, Hawke could both see and feel it against him.

Fenris groaned and leaned over to kiss Hawke once more. There was nothing tender or soft in his kiss this time. It was wild, primal, feral. It was a claiming, a devouring and Hawke welcomed it, returning the kisses with equal fervour. They nipped and bit at each other's lips, hands grabbed handfuls of hair or clutched at their partner's back as they tried to steal the breath from each other.

Somehow Fenris managed to get his hands between their bodies and then grasped both cocks in his hand. The pleasure as the lyrium in Fenris' markings stroked Hawke's cock was so intense that he thought he was going to pass out. Hawke's heart thudded like a drumbeat in his chest and there was an echoing heartbeat along the length of his cock. Hawke didn't know what was exciting him more – the lyrium markings against his cock or the fact that it was Fenris who was touching him and taking such pleasure in it.

Fenris lifted his hands and left off kissing Hawke for now. Hawke almost wailed in disappointment as all that lovely friction was removed. "Just a moment, Hawke," said Fenris as he shifted and brought their lower bodies into alignment, chest against chest, cock against cock.

"Oh, fuck!" Hawke groaned as Fenris started to rock against him and Hawke did the same. Hawke leaned up for another kiss. They kissed and kissed, the movement of their lower bodies getting faster, more erratic as they sought the peak together this time. Hawke had never felt anything like it. His cock and balls were aching with the need to come, but at the same time he didn't want this ecstasy to end yet.

All too soon the felt the first flutters in his lower belly and lower still. Hawke struggled to contain the rising tide of his orgasm, but it was like trying to contain the sunrise. Both were impossible. The pressure of Fenris' body against his, his lover's moans in his mouth, it was all getting too much. Hawke yanked his mouth away. "Fenris! I can't – ah – I'm gonna come! I'm gonna come!"

"Yes!" Fenris hissed, his own body speeding up now too. "Come for me, Hawke! Come!"

Hawke grabbed hold of Fenris' hips and thrust. Once, twice and then he was there. "Fenris! Ah! Ah! Fuck! Oh fuck!" Hawke wailed as he came, spilling himself in a rush of white hot heat between them. Rope after rope left his cock and his vision greyed out for a moment. He wasn't quite sure which of them had come first, but Fenris had come for the second time too and they were both in a bit of a mess. Both of them were trembling with aftershocks and covered with a fine sheen of white. Hawke hoped they weren't intending to walk anywhere far very soon. He didn't think he'd be able to move for a week.

Fenris placed his forehead against Hawke's. "Thank you, Hawke."

"What for?"

"For showing me what it could be like." Fenris smiled and kissed him before glancing down at their messy clothes and bodies. "I think we may need a wash before we go back to Kirkwall."

Hawke laughed. "You could be right about that. How about a skinny-dip? We need to wash our clothes as well. Although I wonder what we can do while we wait them for dry? Any ideas, Master Elf?"

Fenris grinned and kissed him again. "I'm sure we can think of something."

*

It was as they were making their way back to Kirkwall, clothes dry and fresh, that Hawke remembered to ask.

"Fenris, what was that word you called me? Amatus?"

Fenris stopped on the path and blushed, even the tips of his ears went red. Hawke grinned. Was it some kinky elvish thing?

"Um." Fenris rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the ground. "It's Tevene."

"I guessed that. But what does it mean?"

"It's a term of endearment. There isn't really a direct translation. The nearest would be beloved."

Hawke didn't just walk back to Kirkwall that day. He floated.

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: Blood Magic - The Forbidden School

Foul and corrupt are you
Who have taken My gift
And turned it against My children.
—Transfigurations 18:10.

The ancient Tevinters did not originally consider blood magic a school of its own. Rather, they saw it as a means to achieve greater power in any school of magic. The name, of course, refers to the fact that magic of this type uses life, specifically in the form of blood, instead of mana. It was common practice, at one time, for a magister to keep a number of slaves on hand so that, should he undertake the working of a spell that was physically beyond his abilities, he could use the blood of his slaves to bolster the casting.

Over time, however, the Imperium discovered types of spells that could only be worked by blood. Although lyrium will allow a mage to send his conscious mind into the Fade, blood would allow him to find the sleeping minds of others, view their dreams, and even influence or dominate their thoughts. Just as treacherous, blood magic allows the Veil to be opened completely so that demons may physically pass through it into our world.

The rise of the Chant of Light and the subsequent fall of the old Imperium has led to blood magic being all but stamped out—as it should be, for it poses nearly as great a danger to those who would practice it as to the world at large.

—From The Four Schools: A Treatise, by First Enchanter Josephus.

*

"There's a letter for you on the desk," said Gamlen as soon as they returned home. "What am I, your servant? Why is everyone sending letters to you? This isn't even your house!"

Hawke sighed and didn't rise to the bait. Gamlen just liked arguing. Hawke lifted the envelope and almost started in surprise. There, on the back in red wax, was a templar seal. His heart thudded in his chest. Had someone given him away? If that was the case, surely the templars would have come to arrest him, not sent a letter?

He slid his fingers under the seal and lifted out the parchment.

Proud scion of the Hawke family,

I dare not contact you directly, but we have met before, and I know you to be a person of good character and unusual ability. Indulge me in a meeting outside the city, for I require your aid in a delicate task. As a token of good faith, I have enclosed a modest sum. There will be more waiting if you can help.

Please come as soon as you receive this. If you do not, the lives of many innocents may be on my hands.

Sincerely,
A friend

Well, that made everything clearer, didn't it? As clear as mud. There were thirty silvers along with the letter, a nice addition to their expedition fund. But who wrote the letter? And how did they know Hawke was of good character and special abilities? Whoever it was, they knew Hawke had magic. That wasn't a good feeling. Not a good feeling at all.

"Hawke, is everything well?" asked Fenris.

"What? Oh, yes. It's just Varric. Needs us for another job. Tell Mother we may be back late," said Hawke.

Gamlen scowled at them. "You treat this house like an inn! I'm not your lackey, tell Leandra yourself!"

Hawke counted out twenty silvers and gave them to his uncle. "Here, something towards the housekeeping."

"It's a start," said Gamlen, quickly pocketing the money. "Eating me out of house and home. And Carver's just as bad! He eats like a horse, where does he put it all?"

"See you later, Uncle," said Hawke, placing a hand on Fenris' back and steering him out the door. He didn't want to be in Gamlen's company for any longer than necessary.

"Was the letter from Varric?" asked Fenris.

"No, but we'll probably need him along. Let's head to the Hanged Man and we can get something to eat as well."

Fenris chuckled. "Your brother isn't the only one who eats like a horse. We've just had a picnic. How can you still be hungry?"

"That was hours ago," said Hawke. "And anyway, we used up all the energy from that food already." Hawke waggled his eyebrows, making Fenris chuckle again.

The elf sidled closer to Hawke and leaned up to kiss him softly on the mouth. "So we have. We might need some more energy later."

Maker, Fenris was flirting with him! Hawke grabbed hold of Fenris' back and kissed him deeper. "Yeah, I think we might," said Hawke, just glad that he'd been sated so recently that he didn't get an erection right here in the streets of the slums. "Let's get to the tavern before I'm tempted to ravish you right here."

Fenris nodded, blushing slightly and stepped out of Hawke's arms. Hawke felt empty without that embrace, but he knew it was only a temporary thing. Fenris had hinted they might do more later, when they were in private. It all depended on how long this job was going to take.

They found Varric downstairs, seated with Isabela, Merrill and Anders. Beside him, Hawke felt Fenris tense up. Fenris' shoulders slumped and he held himself stiffly. Isabela and Merrill were whispering to each other while Anders and Varric seemed deep in debate with each other. It probably would have been better if Merrill and Anders hadn't been here, but maybe they would be needed. Having an extra mage or two might help, depending on what this job actually entailed.

Hawke slid into the seat next to Varric, while Fenris took the stool next to Isabela. Varric grinned broadly. "Oho, the lovers return! How was your picnic?"

"Fine," said Hawke, trying and failing not to blush.

"Fine?" Varric scoffed. "I'm a writer, Hawke. Details, I need details."

"No you don't," said Fenris. "You just want them. And we don't always get what we want."

"Oh, come on Broody, you have to give me something. Did Hawke sweep you off your feet? I'm assuming Hawke did the actual sweeping, he's taller than you. Awkward otherwise."

Hawke waited for the imminent explosion from Fenris, but it didn't arrive. Fenris just smiled enigmatically at Varric. "I'll tell you one thing. There was no sweeping involved."

Varric grinned. "Every little bit helps, Elf."

Merrill giggled and turned her gaze to Fenris. "You're in love."

"What? I am not," protested Fenris, blushing. Everyone was staring at him now and Hawke knew how uncomfortable that must have been. Fenris hated being the centre of attention.

"You are," said Merrill. "You keep looking at Hawke with sad puppy eyes every time his back is turned."

"I do not," said Fenris, but there wasn't as much heat in it now. Hawke had never expected a declaration of love from Fenris, especially not in public. But he had already noticed the puppy eyes. It was one of the things which drew him to Fenris in the first place. "There are no puppy eyes."

"It's all right," said Merrill. "You don't have to be embarrassed. Even you're allowed to be happy every now and then. It won't kill you. But your face might crack if you smile, so be careful."

"Oh, Daisy, stop teasing Broody," said Varric. "He'll have steam coming out his ears in a minute."

"Isabela, I've meaning to ask you something," said Merrill. "How do you do that?"

"Do what, Kitten?" Isabela took a swig of ale and wiped the foam from her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You sort of... swagger when you walk. I've been trying, but I trip over my own feet when I do it."

"You just strut. It's not something you practice."

"How do I learn it, then?" asked Merrill.

"It comes to you. Usually at night. It's like a lover... or maybe a burglar. Either it ravishes you or runs off with all your jewellery. And you have to run it down and stab it in the heart. And... that metaphor got a bit away from me, didn't it?" Isabela laughed and drank some more ale.

"I think it did, but it was certainly exciting!" Merrill clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling.

Isabela leaned closer and whispered something in her ear, which made Merrill blush. "Um, Isabela and I have to be going," said Merrill, as Isabela grabbed her hand and almost dragged her up the stairs.

"Those two seem to be getting on very well," said Varric. "I never thought I'd see the day when Isabela was this settled. She hasn't even looked at anyone else since she's been with Merrill. So, Hawke is this just a social call?"

"No, we've got another job offer, but I'm not sure we should take it. I think it's from a templar."

"Why would a templar want help from a mage?" demanded Anders. "It could be a trap to capture you."

"That seems an awful convoluted way to go about it. They already knew where I lived. They could have just arrested me already. No, I think the job's real enough, I just don't know what it could be. They want us to meet up at the approach to the Wounded Coast."

"Of course they do," said Varric. "Does no one in the actual city want our help? My little legs weren't designed for all this walking."

*

"Ser Thrask?" Hawke couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. He'd thought perhaps the templar who contacted him might have been Ser Cullen. Ser Thrask hadn't even been in his mind at all.

"Serah Hawke, it was good of you to come. I didn't know who else to turn to. Feynriel speaks very highly of you, of how well you treated him before you sent him to us. He sings your praises to everyone who would listen." Ser Thrask smiled, but Hawke was feeling far from flattered. Did Feynriel's praises include the fact that he was a mage? A mage who wasn't imprisoned in the Gallows? "I was hoping that you would show the same kindness once again. There are a number of apostates hiding in that cavern. I hoped that – "

"We are not going to kill apostates for you!" Anders ranted before Thrask could even finish his sentence.

Thrask shook his head and placed in hands in front of him in gesture of peace. "No, no, you misunderstand. I don't want them dead. I was hoping you would speak to the group, get them to surrender to the Circle peacefully, before my fellow templars arrive."

"And those other templars don't want them to surrender, I take it?" asked Hawke.

"Ser Karras hunts them as well, he is a great crony of Knight-Commander Meredith and if the mages haven't surrendered by the time he arrives, I fear it will be a bloodbath."

"I'll do my best," said Hawke. "I wouldn't want this to turn into a massacre. Where are the mages from?"

"The Circle Tower in Starkhaven burned down and a great many phylacteries were destroyed. Some of the mages decided this was a good time to run."

"Phylacteries?" asked Hawke.

"When a mage is first brought to the Circle, a small sample of his blood is taken and bound in a glass vial with a Circle ritual. If the phylactery is intact, the templars will know exactly where the mage is. He can't run from his own blood," said Thrask.

"That sounds suspiciously like blood magic," said Fenris. "The magisters of Tevinter used to do something similar, but for them it was so their slaves couldn't escape. Their blood was taken forcibly too."

"I – I had never thought of it like that," said Thrask softly. "But, I assure you I am only trying to help these mages. Ser Karras would kill them all if he had the chance."

"We'll try," said Hawke. "But there is no guarantee they will talk to us either. A cornered animal is all the more dangerous."

"Thank you, serah Hawke, it is enough that you'd try. They have shown they will attack templars on sight. But perhaps you would have a better chance to help them see reason."

Hawke nodded; he and his companions made their way into the caverns. The caves were cooler than the sunshine outside, but twilight wasn't far off. There was some daylight from holes in the roof, but the deeper they went in, the darker it became as the stone overhead had no more holes. Hawke and Anders cast some magelight from their staves so at least they could see where they were going. Bats screeched overhead and flew over their heads. But it was the giant spiders who gave them the most trouble. Just once Hawke would have liked to go into a cave and find normal sized spiders. They battled through the spiders, getting covered in blood and ichor as they did so.

"We're not really going to turn these poor fools back into the Circle, are we?" asked Anders, as he tried his best to cast cleaning spells on all of them, but that only seemed to make the stains worse. Household spells were obviously not Anders' strong suit. Hawke didn't know any at all, so they would just have to get clean the old-fashioned way once they were finished here.

Hawke didn't reply. At this moment, he had no idea what he was going to do. They needed to find the mages first. "Help! Help! Please, somebody help!" A voice screeched in the distance. Hawke, Anders, Fenris and Varric all hurried to the voice and readied their weapons.

A young mage, an adolescent by his looks, was surrounded by skeletons and corpses in various stages of decay. He had no staff on him and his face was free of any Circle tattoos, although he was wearing a mage's robe. An apprentice, then. Someone who hadn't yet had his Harrowing. Maybe he didn't yet know that he could perform magic without a staff. Hawke and his companions went into the fray and soon made short work of the undead enemies.

"Maker have mercy, thank you, messere! I didn't know how much longer I could stand against those things! Please, I need to go back to the Circle! I want no part of this. My name is Alain."

"Where did the undead come from, Alain?" asked Hawke.

"It was Decimus' idea. He cut himself and used the magic to make those things rise from the cave. I told him not to, but he wouldn't listen. The Chantry is right. Blood magic is unnatural, not just another tool that a mage should use."

"Decimus?"

"He's one of the enchanters from Starkhaven. I think – I think it might have been him who set the fire. He killed hundreds of people so that he could escape. I only followed him so I wouldn't die in the fire. But I didn't want to do blood magic."

"There is a templar outside the caves. Surrender to Ser Thrask and he will see that you are not harmed," said Hawke.

Alain held his hands in front of him and nodded. "I surrender, I surrender. Decimus is deeper inside the caves. There are others with him, eighteen or twenty I think."

"Thank you, Alain," said Hawke, keeping hold of his staff. There might be further undead before they reached the mages.

*

They indeed had to fight through more undead and traps before they entered a large grotto in the middle of the cave system. "So, the templars come to kill us," said a man in a purple robe. His hair and beard were silver and he looked the image of a kindly grandfather, if a kindly grandfather was a blood mage.

"Decimus, no! These are no templars!" a young woman tried to stall him.

"What care I what shields they carry, Grace? If they challenge us, the dead themselves shall heed my call!" Decimus slit his left arm in three places, scattering the blood drops all around the floor of the cave. The ground cracked and shook as long dead skeletons thrust bony limbs through the earth.

"We're trying to help you!" protested Anders.

"I don't think they care," said Fenris. "Another battle is upon us."

The battle didn't last long, not once Hawke had killed Decimus. Without his blood magic to fuel them, the undead sank to the ground once more, inert and a danger no longer. The young woman sank to the ground and cradled Decimus' head in her lap. "You should have listened to me, love," she said, as tears dripped down her cheek. "I told him, once he marked himself as a blood mage, that's all anyone would see."

"Are we to believe that you had no part in his actions?" asked Fenris.

"I swear to you, messere, that I have had no truck with demons. But you," she stared at Hawke and Anders. "Why do you attack your own? We would not have harmed you."

"You think he called up those skeletons so we could have tea together?" scoffed Hawke. "He attacked us first, we were only defending ourselves."

"We're friendlier than you might think," said Anders.

"If that's true, prove it," said Grace. "There is a templar at the entrance to the caves, you must have seen him on your way in. Kill him and we can escape."

"Oh, let's murder a templar," said Fenris, raising his arms in the air. "A fine idea! That won't bring danger on our heads at all!"

"Better one templar than all these innocent mages," said Anders.

"Innocent? They burned down the Circle tower in Starkhaven and attacked us on sight! How are any of them innocent?" asked Hawke. His compassion was wearing thin. "Ser Thrask is a good man, it is no more right for him to die than you. Surrender and he will see that you are not harmed."

"If you turn us in, don't think that your own talents will go unremarked," said Grace scowling. "Don't think the templars will balk at grabbing an extra mage or two for the Gallows."

"I'll take my chances," said Hawke.

Grace's shoulders slumped as she stood up and spoke to her companions. "Then lay down your arms. I am trying to save our lives. We will surrender to Ser Thrask as you recommend."

"Then let's go," said Hawke. The back of his neck prickled. Grace seemed to have given in too easily.

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: Carver Hawke

"A hundred ways to run, and we choose backward. Whatever you say, but chasing an old name isn't really starting over."

Strong and strapping, Carver is a skilled warrior set on proving himself, although it's not always clear who he is trying to impress. The son and sibling of mages, he grew up surrounded by magic he couldn't truly understand - and he feels like something was expected that he could never deliver. He cares deeply for his family, but sometimes feels like the stupidest person in the room.

Carver foundered in Lothering. He blamed his lack of direction on not wanting to draw attention to his family of apostates at home. After his father died, he started down a military path; however, the Blight and rout at Ostagar ended his career almost before it could start. While he knows that swift flight was the only reasonable course in the face of the darkspawn advance, he almost would rather have stood and fought. Doomed though the effort was, facing the horde had purpose - something Carver had been searching for.

*

Hawke heard voices as they approached the entrance to the caverns. It was fully dark outside, but he could see the light of flickering torches the templars had pushed into the sand. He held his hand up to stop the others while he listened.

"Everyone knows you're soft on the robes, Thrask. Do you really think I'd believe you when you say there's no one else inside that cave? Where did this apprentice come from, hmm? His fellows are still hiding and I intend to root them out. You know the Knight-Commander's thoughts on the matter. No rebel robes get to preach to the tame ones. They're useless once they've had a taste of freedom."

"You can't just go about murdering mages!" Thrask protested.

"Murder?" Ser Karras barked a laugh. "Cull, more like. They're little better than animals. And I think we can start with this apprentice. Better he dies now than give others in the Circle any ideas."

"Please, no! I haven't done anything!" Alain begged.

"Please," Grace hissed. "You can't send us off with him, he'll kill us all!"

Hawke nodded. It seemed Karras would be satisfied with nothing less than the bloodbath Thrask has warned them about. "I'll convince him you're dead. By the time I'm finished with him, the templars will swear the sky is green."

"Your confidence almost makes me believe you," said Grace. "But I've spent two weeks travelling with these templars. They strike first and ask questions later. They are far easier to kill than to fool."

"There's been enough death today. Varric, we're up," said Hawke, nodding to his friend.

They stepped out of the cave, shielding their eyes with their hands against the torchlight.

"Who's this?" demanded Karras with a sneer.

"Tell him who we are," said Hawke, glancing at Varric.

"What's the trouble, Ser Thrask? Did the Knight-Commander forget to tell ser Karras that Enchanter Hawke came all the way from Ferelden to help her root out the rebel mages?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, I was just about to tell him when you arrived."

"We've completed the investigation of the mages in those caverns. There is no one left inside," said Varric.

"One of the cowards ran out the back." Hawke pointed behind him. "You should go after him."

Varric nodded. "Right. Their leader fled the battlefield ahead of us. Bloody coward left his own people to die. I caught only a glimpse, but it looked like the passages led out to the coast. You could send your men that way."

"We can still catch up if we go around the caverns," said Thrask. "That's the faster route."

Karras nodded. "Thanks for your help. I will inform the Knight-Commander of how well you've handled things here, Enchanter Hawke. It's rare to see a mage cooperate so well with the authorities. Men, spread out and head for the coast. We'll get this bloody bastard if it's the last thing I do. We can pick these corpses up later. It's not like anyone will miss a bunch of mages anyway." Karras followed his men on the way to the coast.

Hawke, Varric and Thrask waited silently for a few minutes, just to make sure that Karras and the other templars had really gone. Thrask took a deep breath and shook Hawke's hand. "Thank you, my friend. I knew I was right to trust you with this. You have saved many lives today, Master Hawke. The Maker watch over you."

"And you," said Hawke as Thrask took his leave and made to join his fellows on their fruitless search.

A few moments later, Fenris, Anders, Grace and the other apostates emerged from the cave. The apostates stared around them, unsure of what do do now. Freedom was all well and good as an idea, but what would these mages do now? They would always be hunted, always be looking over their shoulders. They weren't really free at all, just as no mage was, not even Hawke. One day someone might betray him and he would be in the Circle too. Or executed, if men like Karras had their way.

Grace smiled at him and shook her head. "I didn't think you could do it. Truly, you must be able to charm a miser out of his last coin. I did not think any of us would leave those caverns alive."

"If it makes you feel better, officially you were killed during escape."

"I will do my best to seem cold and rotted, then."

Grace handed him her mage staff. "Please, accept this as a reward. It has the mark of Starkhaven on it - I dare not carry it now."

"Keep it, you might need it," said Hawke.

"Here, you can have mine instead," said Anders, swapping his staff for Grace's. "The templars are always after me anyway, I'm used to running."

"What will you do now? Where will you go?" asked Hawke.

"I don't really know yet, but we must flee as far as we can before morning brings more templars. Thank you again. I will not forget this day."

*

Varric and Anders were in conversation up ahead, as the four of them made their way back to Kirkwall in the dark. Fenris didn't know if it was something to do with his lyrium markings or if it was perhaps an elven thing, but he'd always been able to see pretty well in the dark.

"I've always wondered, why is every surface dwarf a merchant or a smith?" asked Anders.

"You left out criminals and hired muscle," replied Varric.

"They don't count."

"We dwarves are drawn to shiny objects. Sort of like Magpies, but with business sense."

"You're kidding." Fenris could almost imagine Anders' smile.

"Of course I am. We come to the surface with the skills our ancestors had, Blondie. You think there's a tradition of dwarf woodcutters in Orzammar? Bee keepers? Sailors?"

"Well, there could be mushroom growers and nug wranglers."

"Orzammar will never let those people go topside. Too vital. Also, embarrassing."

The pair walked further ahead and Fenris could only hear the mumble of their voices, not what they were actually saying.

"Are you angry, Fenris?" Hawked asked from beside him.

"Angry? At what?"

"That we let the mages go. It wasn't an easy decision, but I just couldn't let them be murdered in cold blood."

"I am not angry, Hawke," said Fenris. "I am – discomfited. You were right, I think Ser Karras would have murdered them all without any qualms. You had already dealt with the blood mage, the rest had surrendered. They should have been safe. I don't think I will ever be one hundred per cent comfortable around magic, but that is my problem, not yours or any other mage's, besides Danarius. He was the one who did this to me. Not all mages are alike and it has taken me a long time to see that. It's a prejudice, isn't it? The way some people dislike elves or dwarves. But no one chooses to be an elf or a dwarf, or a mage."

Fenris took a deep breath. What he had to say didn't come easy to him, but if he couldn't trust Hawke with his feelings, who could he trust? "Some men will fight anyone, kill anyone to gain their freedom. But I know that you can break your chains and yet remain a prisoner. You can carry that darkness around and inside you, until it burns itself into your flesh and you are changed for ever. You took me out of that darkness, Hawke. With you, I can see the world anew. You've given me a reason to live as a free man, Hawke. Not just because of how much you mean to me, but because of how you treat others."

"You're making be blush, Fenris," said Hawke, nudging him in the ribs. "I'm not much of a paragon as all that."

"You're a mage and it took me a long time to see past that. Mages are born with magic. The fact that they have magic is beyond their control, but what they can control is how they use it. They can use it for good or ill, or decide to deal with demons. Much like a weapon can be used for murder or protection. For so long I have let my hatred of magic blind me, and for that I am sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for, Fenris. I understand why you were so against magic, it's not surprising after all the things you have been through. I try to do the right thing, even when I'm not even sure what the right thing is."

"You're a good man, Hawke," said Fenris. "Do not let anyone tell you differently."

"I try," Hawke said again. "I was thinking of taking Carver tomorrow and sorting out those slavers at the Amell estate. Maybe if this expedition comes off, I might be able to buy it back for my mother. She deserves to have a proper home."

"Indeed," Fenris agreed. Leandra had been nothing but kind to Fenris and it would be wonderful to pay her back somehow. "I would like to help clear the mansion." They'd reached the outskirts of Kirkwall, the darkness giving way to torch-lit streets and alleyways.

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that." Hawke called up ahead. "Varric, Anders? You up for rooting out some slavers tomorrow?"

"Count me in, Hawke," said Varric. "What about you, Blondie?"

"I can't, I really should spend a bit more time at the clinic. People are relying on me."

"But you'll stay for a drink at the Hanged Man tonight, though, won't you?"

"Sure, Varric. Just for one though. Justice doesn't approve of me drinking."

"You're kidding me?" Varric sounded incredulous. "So, how does he stop you? Rants in your head, does he?"

"No. I just start to feel really ill if I've had more than one, even if it's only an ale."

"You'll stay for a round or two, won't you, Hawke, Fenris?"

Hawke glanced towards Fenris, as if seeking his permission. Fenris smiled and nodded in agreement. Although dark, it wasn't that late yet and Leandra wouldn't be expecting them home at a particular time. Fenris enjoyed spending time in company, even if some of that company included Anders. They'd never be friends, Fenris knew that, but he could put up with the mage for Hawke's sake. There were a lot of things he'd do for Hawke's sake. Before Hawke, he'd never even had a friend, never mind shared intimate moments with someone, not that he remembered at least. Sometimes he had to wonder at what he might have lost. Did he have a family somewhere? Someone close to him? A lover or a spouse? He didn't know; he suspected he'd never know. That life was gone. It was in the past. He had to live in the present. He had a new life now, one with Hawke at his side. A friend, a companion, a lover.

Fenris glanced over at Hawke as they reached the Hanged Man and sighed with contentment. There was a strange, light feeling in his chest and midriff, but he was unsure what it was. Is this what happiness felt like? Hawke leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Copper for them."

"What?" asked Fenris.

"You seemed deep in thought. It's a Fereldan saying, 'copper for your thoughts'."

"Oh, I see. I was just thinking about you and me. How different my life has been, even from a year ago. How much better it is with you in it. How I've got friends now. I've always been alone before. I pushed people away, feeling I would do better on my own. That I didn't need or want anyone else. I've been such a fool to fight my feelings for you for so long."

Hawke smiled and it made Fenris' stomach jolt at seeing that smile aimed at him. "Everyone's a bit foolish in love, Fenris. I think it's a rule or something."

Varric shouldered his way through the crowd to the bar and nodded at Corff, serving behind it. "Have the usual sent up to my suite, will you, Corff?"

The bar tender nodded and wiped a mug with a dirty cloth. "Sure thing, Varric."

Varric headed for the stairs, the other three of them following, when a voice rang out behind them.

"Hawke! There you are," said Aveline as she approached the stairs. Varric and Anders went into Varric's suite, while Hawke and Fenris waited on the stairs. "I was hoping to catch you. Where have you been? I've been looking for you all day."

"We had a job out on the Wounded Coast. We only just got back. Is this urgent or can it wait until tomorrow? It's been a long day." Hawke sighed and folded his arms over his chest.

"It's not urgent per se, but I think you'll want to take care of it tonight. It's Carver."

"What's happened? Is he all right?" asked Fenris.

"He got into a fight outside the Rose early this morning. Madam Lusine said he's been in there drinking for three days, he never went home. Leandra was worried sick and asked me to look for him. He's in the Barracks at the minute, sleeping it off. This isn't like Carver. I know he likes the occasional tipple, but I've never known him to go on a bender like this before," said Aveline. "Have you?"

"No, not even when Father died," said Hawke. "I'll go and fetch him home. Do you have any idea what the fight was about?"

"What's it always about at the Rose? The workers there, of course. Something about Faith, I suspect, but Carver wouldn't talk to me about it. Maybe you'll have more luck. He hasn't been charged with anything, but it was a close call. Carver threw up on Captain Jeven's shoes, you should have seen his face! I got a right bollocking, but it was worth it to see that."

"Thanks for looking out for him, Aveline," said Hawke.

"You're all like my family, Hawke and I look after my family."

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: Marriage and Sexuality
Marriage and the Chantry:

According to the Chant of Light, Andraste had a spiritual marriage with the Maker. All Andrastian priests are therefore symbolically wedded to the Maker and sworn to celibacy. In the eyes of the Chantry, marriage is both a celebration of tradition and a practical decision. Through a favourable marriage, one can make valuable connections, improve one's social standing, and secure financial stability for oneself and one's family. Love is not necessary for a successful marriage but is nonetheless desirable, as it makes the union stronger. The Chantry permits annulments but not outright divorce.

*

"He's in there," said Aveline as they entered the Barracks at the Keep. She nodded towards one of the closed doorways that led to the guards' sleeping quarters. The Barracks was busy with guards loitering about, some playing cards, some joking and laughing boisterously. Hawke pushed the door open and gasped on seeing his brother.

"Carver! What happened?" asked Hawke as he rushed to kneel down in front of his brother.

Carver slumped on the lower bed of one of the guard's bunks. His left eye was almost swollen shut and purple bruising bloomed on his cheek like some exotic flower. There was dried blood below his nostrils from a recent nosebleed and his lower lip was split right across the middle.

"Hello to you too, Brother," said Carver in a despondent voice. Hawke had never heard Carver sound so lostbefore. "What does it look like? I got into a fight."

"About what?" Hawke glanced over his shoulder at Fenris.

"It doesn't matter," replied Carver.

"Aveline says you were drinking for three days in the Rose. This isn't like you, Carver."

"And what the hell would you know about it? You know nothing about me, nothing!" Carver stood up, almost knocking Hawke over in his haste, and paced the small barracks room, as if trying to get as far away from his brother as possible.

"Then tell me," pleaded Hawke.

"You're mother is worried about you," said Fenris. "As are we all. I do not wish to pressure you if you do not wish to discuss what is worrying you, but sometimes it helps to talk things through."

"Maybe you're right, Fenris," said Carver and Hawke was glad he had brought Fenris along to this meeting. Carver looked up to Fenris, perhaps Fenris could get through to him where Hawke could not. "It's Faith. She's pregnant."

"Oh." Hawke hadn't seen that coming. He would have thought that someone working as a prostitute would have some way of preventing pregnancy, but he supposed like anything else, contraceptive methods weren't foolproof.

"She says it's mine, but how can I believe her? It could be any man's in Kirkwall for all I know. I want to believe her, I really do. I want it to be mine."

"And if it is yours, what then?"

"I want to marry her, Hawke whether or not the baby is mine. I want to take her away from that life. But how can I? We live in an overcrowded hovel in Lowtown and have barely a penny to our name. The only way I can see it happening is if we really do find some treasure in the Deep Roads like Varric said. If it pays off, I can marry Faith, we might even be able to afford to buy the mansion back."

"I should heal you before we head home," said Hawke. "Mother would have a heart attack if she saw you like this. Fenris, could you stand a bit further away while I cast? I don't want to hurt you with my magic."

Fenris nodded and moved as far away as he could without leaving the room, and Hawke was glad of it. It felt good that he had Fenris there to support him. Hawke placed his hands gently on Carver's face and cast his healing magic on Carver's skin. It was amazing to watch as the injuries reversed themselves, almost as if watching the fight backwards. "There, all done. We were thinking of going to the estate tomorrow, Carver, and rooting out the slavers. That's the first thing to be done. Then, once the house is empty we can petition the Viscount to have it returned to Mother."

"Will the Viscount even listen to us?We're nobody."

"Nobodies who saved the Viscount's son," Hawke reminded him. "He'll have to listen to us now. He owes us. It should be enough to get us a meeting at least."

"Maybe," said Carver, nodding his head. "Don't tell Mother about Faith being pregnant, not yet. I don't imagine Faith is the type of woman she wants for a daughter-in-law."

"Do you love her?" asked Hawke.

"Yes. With all my heart."

"Then that's all that matters. Mother would understand, Carver. After all, she ran away from a noble background to marry Father, a poor apostate. But I won't say anything, not if you don't want me to."

"Thanks, Hawke. We don't always get on, I know. But you've always been there for me, even when I've been a right bastard about it."

"Oi," said Hawke grinning. "Our parents were married. You're not a bastard. Anyway, let's get you home and stop Mother worrying."

As they left the sleeping quarters, Hawke saw Aveline deep in conversation with another guards woman. "You saved me a lot of trouble, sorting out those bandits the other week, Aveline."

"Brennan, that route was yours?" asked Aveline, hands on her hips, her head tilted to one side as if she was thinking. "Who was with you?"

"It was just me on patrol."

"A lone guard isn't much of a patrol," said Hawke, drawn in despite himself.

"Shouldn't need to be," replied Brennan. "That route was clear for weeks. The first news we heard was after your big fight. When things are slow, the captain has us make deliveries. Letters, pay and order assignments, that sort of thing. I gave the satchel to Donnic for his patrol tonight."

"Satchel?" queried Aveline, arching her brows in Hawke's direction. Aveline could almost read his mind and he hers sometimes.

"A messy way to pass information," said Hawke. "We don't know for sure this is anything dodgy."

"Don't we? Jeven's been jumpy for weeks, ever since we intercepted those bandits in fact. Those bandits who were very well-equipped. Not the usual lowlifes you get around Kirkwall. No, those men were being paid and paid well. And now another guard has just walked into a trap. I don't think Jeven cares if we get killed on the job, as long as his information is passed to his associates." Aveline scanned the roster pinned to the wall. "Donnic, Donnic," she mumbled to herself as she searched the names. "Here we are, a night patrol in Lowtown. Alone."

"Alone in Lowtown?" asked Carver. "That's almost asking for trouble."

"I know. Jeven may have just ordered that guard to his death. Donnic is a good man, he doesn't deserve to die for Jeven's foolishness."

"We're with you, Aveline," said Hawke. "We would have been heading to Lowtown anyway."

"Thanks, Hawke. I appreciate it. We'll need all the help we can get."

*

Once Donnic's attackers were dealt with and the two guards headed back to the Viscount's Keep, Hawke, Fenris and Carver made their way back home to Gamlen's. Donnic seemed none the worse for wear after his ordeal, and in fact had seemed to perk right up when he realised Aveline was one of his rescuers. Hawke smiled to himself and shook his head. Maybe he was reading too much into a simple, stolen glance.

"I wouldn't want to be in Jeven's shoes once Aveline is finished with him," said Hawke. "She'll not let this rest until he's ousted."

"Good riddance, sounds like he's been taking bribes for years to look the other way. Hey, did you see the way Donnic looked at Aveline?" asked Carver. "I think he likes her."

"I agree," said Fenris, surprising Hawke. Fenris had never been interested in gossip. "I think they would be good together. Aveline deserves to be happy, she has suffered much in her life."

"Yeah, she has," said Hawke, remembering Aveline's distress at having to kill her own husband. The Blight would have killed him anyway, and it would not have been merciful. But still, to be the one who had wielded the knife that had killed him must have taken its toll. "Her husband had the Blight and Aveline killed him out of mercy. I'm not sure I would be so strong."

"It was awful, Fenris," added Carver. "Wesley looked more like a corpse like anyone living, and the smell, I've never smelled anything like it. It's as if he was rotting away while still alive. He knew he didn't have long and he would have been in agony the whole time while we waited for him to die. He begged Aveline to end his pain. She took some convincing, but in the end she did what was right. It can't have been easy though."

"No, I don't suppose it was," said Fenris, feeling his heart break a little at what Aveline had to do. If it happened to Hawke, to one of his other friends, would Fenris have the strength to do it? He didn't know and he hoped he would never have to find out.

*

Leandra and Gamlen were still waiting up when the three of them arrived back at the house. Leandra jumped up from her chair and ran to hug Carver. Silvery tear-tracks had dried on her cheeks and she held a crumpled handkerchief in her left hand.

"Carver! Thank the Maker you're all right! Where have you been? What happened? I was worried sick!" Leandra looked him up and down, as if trying to ascertain where he was hurt.

"I'm fine, Mother. Just tired. I think I'll go to bed."

Hawke saw his mother pull out of the embrace and stand in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. "Carver Malcolm Hawke you will tell me right now what happened!"

Hawke tried not to grin. Carver was in deep trouble, you always knew you were in trouble when your mother called you by your full name.

"Nothing. I just needed some time to myself. To think."

"For three days? Three days without a word to anyone! Anything could have happened to you! You could have been lying dead in a ditch somewhere!"

"Well, I wasn't. As you can see, I'm fine."

"He was probably with his whore," said Gamlen, smirking in Carver's direction.

"Don't call her that!" retorted Carver.

"Why not? It's what she is, isn't it? It's her profession."

"Not for much longer," said Carver. "When we get back from the Deep Roads we can get married."

Gamlen laughed. "Oh, lad. Do you think you're the first man who thought he could save a woman from that life? You've fallen hard for her, haven't you? But have you asked her if she wants to marry you?"

"Not yet, no," replied Carver in a subdued tone. "I wanted to be in a better position before I ask her. She loves me. I know she does."

Gamlen rubbed his fingers together. "Maybe it's the money she loves, not you."

"I'm not listening to any more of this, I'm going to bed." With that, Carver stormed into the bedroom he and Gamlen shared and slammed the door shut.

"I shall retire also," said Fenris and headed quickly to their bedroom, leaving Hawke to face his mother and uncle alone. Hawke knew Fenris didn't like hearing them argue.

"Shouldn't you head to bed too, Gamlen? It's rather late," said Leandra and Hawke felt his heart fall to somewhere near his shoes. Things couldn't be good if his mother wanted to talk to him alone.

Gamlen nodded and stood up. He pressed a hand on Hawke's shoulder and whispered, "Good luck."

Oh dear. Things must have been bad for Gamlen to wish him luck.

"I would like to talk to you, Aemond," said his mother, sitting down on a chair by the table. She waved Hawke onto the bench opposite her. Hawke sat down and tried not to sigh. He was fed up of being in the middle of Carver and Leandra's arguments over Faith.

"Shouldn't you be talking to Carver? He loves Faith, that's all I know and that's all anyone else needs to know too."

"This isn't about Carver. This is about you and Fenris. I've seen the way you both look at each other. You are more than just friends, are you not?"

Hawke wasn't even tempted to deny it, what would be the point? He loved Fenris, he wasn't ashamed of that. "Is that going to be a problem between us?" Leandra had never given any hints that she disapproved of same-sex relationships, but then it was probably different when it was your eldest son who preferred men and not women.

"No, it's not that," said Leandra softly. "It's this Deep Roads trip. I'm worried about you all. I'd much prefer it if Carver and Faith could marry before you all go off on a dangerous adventure, but I know Carver wants to wait until you find treasure down there or we can get our holdings back. Even if we do, our family won't suddenly become nobles again. It doesn't work like that. Our connections, our standing won't change overnight even if we move back to the estate. We'll have to work our way up through the ranks once more. But I get the impression that Fenris doesn'tt care a whit for all of that."

"I don't think he does, no," said Hawke. "All he cares about is being safe from his old master."

"I didn't get long enough to spend with your father, Aemond. He died far too young, so did Bethany. Life is so short, I've seen that, and you should grab it with both hands."

"What are you saying, Mother?" She couldn't mean what Hawke thought she meant, could she?

"I think you and Fenris should get married, before you go to the Deep Roads. Having Andraste's blessing on your bonding could help you both stay safe." Leandra toyed with the handkerchief in her hands, as if she needed something to do.

"You're fine with me marrying a man?" asked Hawke, unsure he was really having this conversation. He had to admit, even if only to himself, that he had thought about marriage to Fenris, but it was in an abstract sort of sense and something he could see in the future. The far future. They'd never discussed it. Things between them were too new, too fragile.

"You would have been the Amell heir, if my parents hadn't turned me out. But Carver is going to marry Faith, I dare say there'll be grandchildren soon enough, so it won't matter if you and Fenris don't have children. Or you could adopt if you wanted. That's been known before. If you love each other, you should get married as soon as possible. You never know when you'll be taken from each other." Leandra moved over to her camp bed and lifted up a small velvet box that had been sitting on it. "This ring belonged to your father. It's the Hawke crest. I'd like you to give it to Fenris as a betrothal gift. I have the Amell ring to give to Carver for Faith if she agrees to marry him."

"You've changed your mind since we last spoke about Carver and Faith. I wasn't even sure you would approve of them marrying."

"It's probably not what I would have wished for Carver, no, but I know how upsetting it is when your family disapprove of the person you love. I was disinherited when I ran away with your father, but if I had my time to do over again, I would still do it. I am not going to stand in the way of you and Carver being with the person you love. I don't want to lose either of you and it would be very hypocritical of me to disapprove. You can't help who you fall in love with."

"Thank you, Mother. But I will have to talk to Fenris about all of this. We haven't really discussed marriage. He may not want to get married."

"Well, you won't know if you don't ask, will you?" Leandra smiled, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, as she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Goodnight, Aemond."

"Goodnight, Mother."

Chapter Text

Codex Entry: Fenris

"Even those who live without chains are still bound: by fear, by tradition, by honour. Slaves dream of freedom, but I have found free men dream of it even more."

*

Fenris was a slave—a bodyguard to Magister Danarius of the Tevinter Imperium—until his escape several years ago. He speaks little of his past, saying only that he most recently came to Kirkwall from Tantervale in the north. The markings on his skin are akin to runecrafting: made of lyrium and ink, they suffuse Fenris' flesh with a power even he does not fully understand. The process of their creation was painful, and in unguarded moments, Fenris attempts to control the agony that lingers still. Even so, the markings enhance his fighting skill and have made him a unique and formidable warrior.

*

Fenris had tried to stay up while Hawke conversed with his mother, but he had fallen asleep long before Hawke returned to their shared bedroom. As he, Carver and Hawke made their way to the Hanged Man the next morning, Fenris couldn't help worrying about what Leandra might have said to her son. Did she know of he and Hawke's relationship? Did she disapprove? Is that why the air had been so tense at breakfast, with Leandra giving pointed looks to Hawke and then to Fenris? There had been no time for he and Hawke to discuss it privately, whatever it was.

And now they were on the way to the Hanged Man to meet Varric and Isabela for their jaunt to the old Amell estate to clear it from slavers, so even less privacy than normal. Fenris spent a little time daydreaming that they had returned form the Deep Roads with enough money to buy a little house of their own so they could have as much privacy as they wanted. As much as Fenris was coming to enjoy their intimate encounters, he didn't want privacy just for the sex. It was easier to talk, to voice his worries and fears if it was only the two of them. Fenris didn't like to appear weak in front of the others and he couldn't confide in them as much as he could with Hawke.

Varric wasn't in the common room downstairs, so Hawke led them upstairs to his suite of rooms. Isabela and Varric were there, as expected, but there was also someone Fenris wouldn't have expected to be there in a million years. Sebastian Vael stood by the table, his white armour almost blinding in the torchlight. Hawke raised an eyebrow at Varric, who chuckled and nodded to Sebastian.

"Choirboy here heard we we going after some slavers and he'd like to come along."

"Heard how?" asked Hawke, hands on his hips.

"A little bird told him," said Varric, grinning.

"I feel it is a sacred duty to rid the world of slavers," said Sebastian. "I am only following in Our Lady Andraste's footsteps."

"Well, then, I suppose we ought to head out," said Hawke. "If everyone else is in agreement?"

"The more the merrier," said Isabela.

"It makes no difference to me who's coming," said Carver. "As long as we get the slavers."

"I have no objections," said Fenris. He didn't really know Sebastian that well so could think of no reason for the prince to stay or accompany them, except for the fact that he wanted to. And anyone who disliked slavers was welcome. Before they could head out though, Norah and another serving girl entered the room carrying platters of food and jugs of drink. "Just something to fortify us on the way."

"We've only just had breakfast," said Hawke, eyeing the food as if it might come alive and attack him.

"Oh, at least sit down and let's discuss our plans," said Varric, sitting down at the head of the table.

"There isn't that much of a plan," said Carver as he took a seat and picked at the sandwiches. "We go in, clear out the slavers, find Grandfather's will and Mother can get her estate back."

Hawke sat down on one side of Fenris, Sebastian on the other. "Would you like some ale, Sebastian?" asked Fenris, peering into the nearest jug.

"I'm afraid I no longer partake of alcohol," said Sebastian. "My vows. But don't let that stop the rest of you. Are you an Andrastian, Fenris?"

The sudden change in conversation almost had Fenris speechless. Was it anyone else's business what his faith was, or lack thereof? "If I say 'no', will you try to convert me?"

"Many elves believe in the Maker. I just wondered if your experiences had soured your faith. It can't have been easy, to go through what you have."

Fenris' heart stuttered in his chest. "And what would you know of my experiences? You have no idea. I would find it difficult to put my faith in someone who abandoned me anyway."

"The Maker didn't abandon you, Fenris. It was not he who enslaved you."

"He didn't help me either!"

"And yet, here you stand, a free man. Perhaps he helped you more than you think."

"The Maker didn't free me," Fenris insisted. "I freed myself. If the Maker did anything, He watched. Why should I thank Him for that?"

"Is it so hard to believe the Maker cares for you?" asked Sebastian as he found a jug of water and poured some into a goblet. "Maybe He gave you the chance to escape."

It had been a long while since Fenris had thought of any deity looking out for him. It was a nice idea, but he wasn't sure it was true. If there was indeed a Maker, why did he let so many bad things happen in the world? "It doesn't feel like the Maker cares for me... or anyone else for that matter."

"We all make our own choices, to do good as well as evil. That is our doing, not the Maker's. The Chant teaches that the Maker turned from us because we were sinners. But it is never too late to repent, to mend our ways."

"Perhaps. It's... been a long time since I gave it any thought."

"Are you going to preach to us the whole way there, Choirboy?" asked Varric.

"I'm sorry, I meant no offence.," said Sebastian in a subdued tone.

"All right, let's just get this over with," said Isabela, squaring her shoulders and sitting up straighter in her chair.

"A duel?" asked Sebastian.

"No, the sermon. The finger-wagging, the guilt-trips, telling me how an unexamined life isn't worth living."

"I wasn't going to—"

"You weren't? You weren't going to tell me to comfort the needy and give freely of myself?"

"From what I hear, you already give yourself quite freely," Sebastian replied sternly.

"Ooh. You got me there," said Isabela grinning. Hawke and Carver both chuckled.

"I used to be like you, you know," said Sebastian, sighing as if in reminiscence.

"You used to be a woman?" Isabela waggled her eyebrows and downed another mouthful of ale.

"No! Not that!"

"That explains a lot," said Isabela. "There's no one more evangelical than the repentant sinner."

"My family put me in the Chantry because I was giving them a bad name. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I found peace. I found a purpose. Before I came here, I used to be out to all hours, drinking, gambling and whoring. I didn't believe in anything except my own pleasure."

"Oh, why couldn't I have met you then? We could have had some fun together," said Isabela.

Sebastian blushed almost as red as his hair. If he'd been a wild boy before, he certainly didn't seem to want to go back to that life now.

"You know, Sebastian, I've heard rumours of Starkhaven," said Varric.

"Oh? And what rumours would those be?" Sebastian nodded his head towards Varric.

"They say you eat the dead up there. And murder strangers in the street."

"Why do I suspect that when you say you've "heard" rumours, you mean you've invented some?"

"Pah! Six of one, half-dozen of another," said Varric. "Time to head out, is it?"

*

Isabela emerged from Stealth and surprised the last slaver. His eyes widened and his breath hitched for a few seconds as she stabbed him. And then there was no more breath and they were all staring around at the dead slavers on the floor of the cellars. It had almost been too easy and Fenris glanced uneasily around, as if waiting for some sort of trap to fall. But it didn't. They were alone with a bunch of dead slavers and old wine. The cellars had been extensive, reaching all the way from Hightown, through Lowtown and even part of Darktown.

"Hawke, do you know what this is?" Fenris asked, nodding towards the vintner’s mark on the large wine barrels. Burnt onto the wood was a bottle entwined with two laurel wreaths. "It's Agreggio Parvali. The most expensive wine in Tevinter. My former master used to have me pour it for his guests. He said my appearance intimidated them."

Hawke smiled and nudged Fenris in the ribs. "I can't imagine why they would be put off."

"That's not the point, Hawke," said Varric and paused to whistle. "The point is that this wine is worth a bloody fortune. We'll have enough here to finance the Deep Roads expedition and then some. Ten sovereigns a pop."

Hawke looked at the three large barrels. "Each of these is worth ten sovereigns apiece?"

Fenris and Varric both shook their heads. "No, Hawke. Ten sovereigns a bottle," said Fenris.

"Wow. Wow! So if we sell this, we'll be able to go on the expedition?"

"Yep. I'll look up some contacts in the Merchants Guild. There'll be buyers for this lot, no trouble. Then we just need to give the money to Bartrand and we'll be off. It'll probably take a few weeks once that's done to sort everything out. We'll have to bring everything with us, from food to water to equipment. We may find a few nugs down there, but it's not guaranteed. Best to bring food from the start just in case. Maybe a few goats or sheep for milk too."

"Milk?" asked Carver. "What for?"

"Calcium," said Fenris. "We'll be underground for weeks, without any sunlight. We'll need the minerals and fruit too, to help stave off disease."

"So, it's not going to be a walk in the park?" asked Carver.

"No, it's not. Listen, Junior," said Varric. "This is not a holiday. It's the bloody Deep Roads. There's danger around every corner, even beneath our feet. Earthquakes, lava floods, creatures that would eat you whole and spit out your bones, you name it, it could be down there. Not to mention the Darkspawn. The Blight may be over, but the Darkspawn don't just disappear. They live in the Deep Roads. Usually lower down than where the dwarves live, but they venture up every so often. Nothing is guaranteed. There may well be treasure down there or it may be picked clean or tainted by the Darkspawn. We all might end up dead. But at least we know we're going in as prepared as possible."

"Hey, I think I found the vault," called Isabela from the stairs. She had her lock picks out and knelt down to jiggle at the locks.

"Fenris, may I have a word?" asked Hawke and he tugged gently on Fenris' arm to draw him away from the others. They stepped back into one of the outer cellars, leaving the others with the wine and the vault.

"Is this about what you and your mother discussed last night?" asked Fenris, steeling his heart for the rejection that was sure to come.

"Yes. Maker, how did you know that?"

"She disapproves of our relationship, doesn't she? She wants us to end things. A nobleman and an elf, it's not really done, is it? I know how much getting her status back means to her."

"No, Fenris, that's not it at all. Quite the opposite, in fact." Hawke ran his hands through the back of his hair and paced for a bit. "Maker, I don't quite know how to say this. I never imagined it would be like this. It should be romantic, with dinner and flowers and music. Not in a cellar full of dead slavers."

"Hawke, what are you talking about?" asked Fenris.

"Not here, I can't do this here. Let's get the will and get back to Mother. Then I am taking you out for a meal somewhere nice. There's that new tea shop in Lowtown, we can go there. And then I can tell you."

"Hawke, you;'re starting to worry me."

Hawke grinned and leaned into kiss him. "It's something good, I promise."

Chapter Text

Fenris arranged to meet Hawke at the teashop in Hightown at two bells after Hawke and Carver talked to their mother about their grandfather's will, that it should be between the family and he didn't want to intrude. Hawke and Carver both protesting that he was family gave him a warm glow around his middle, but he still thought they should talk in private with their mother.

It was still a little while before he needed to meet Hawke and Fenris found himself walking towards the Kirkwall Chantry. Fenris had never been to a Tevinter Chantry. Slaves were not permitted there and he knew little about the Imperium's form of Andrastianism except for the fact that their priests and Divine were male. He'd been in a few different Southern chantries since his time on the run and most of them had not turned him away. Instead, the sisters had talked to him, even given him food and blankets when he had never asked for anything. Fenris couldn't imagine anyone in a Tevinter chantry helping out those less fortunate than themselves.

He pushed open the door and stared around at the sisters and brothers milling about. Sebastian was easy to spot in his blinding white armour. He smiled when he saw Fenris and made a beeline for him, his armour clanking as he moved.

"Fenris! How wonderful to see you again. You look troubled. Is there something I can help you with?"

"I wondered if there was somewhere we could talk. Somewhere a bit more private?" Fenris didn't want his business broadcast to the whole chantry. Sebastian didn't blend in any more than Fenris did, both of them stood out and he would guess the others in the chantry would be curious as to their discussions.

"We can go to the Garden of Remembrance, follow me."

Fenris followed Sebastian through the chantry, past all the candles in front of the giant statue of Andraste, past the altar and to a small door at the back of the chantry. "It should be quiet out here today," said Sebastian as he unlocked the door with a key on his belt and waved Fenris through before him.

Fenris gasped in awe once they were outside; he had no idea this place even existed. It was indeed a garden. Tress, shrubs and flowers abounded. A cloistered walkway ran along all four sides of the garden and on each wall, Fenris could see there were small marble plaques with names etched onto them. There seemed to be thousands of names.

"Families pay for their loved one's names to be recorded here, especially if they had the funeral in Kirkwall or they have scattered the ashes in the garden. All the trees and flowers are in remembrance of someone too."

"It's beautiful," said Fenris. "I had no idea this was even here."

Sebastian led him over to a small marble bench in one of the cloisters and indicated for Fenris to sit down. There were a few chantry sisters taking a walk in the garden, but they seemed deep in their own meditation and didn't seem at all interested in what Fenris and Sebastian might be saying. Fenris sat down and clasped his hands in his lap, unsure of what he wanted to say.

"Were you ever dedicated in the faith of the chantry?" asked Sebastian when Fenris wasn't forthcoming.

"To be honest, I don't really know. I have no memory of my childhood at all. Danarius had no desire to teach his slaves that they were worthy beings."

"Everyone is worthy in the Maker's eyes, Fenris. He has room at His side for every soul, even yours."

"You say that, but how can it be true? There is so much darkness and fear in the world, how can He allow it? Shouldn't he help somehow?" Fenris found it difficult to believe in an all-powerful being looking out for people, when such terrible things happened.

"The Maker turned away from Mankind because of our great sin. Men sought the Seat of Heaven, tried to enter the Golden City, but their touch corrupted it. Those men were cast down as the first darkspawn. Their souls were corrupted by pride. Mankind is the cause of the darkness and fear, Fenris, not the Maker."

"But you can't deny that terrible things do happen, Sebastian."

"Of course they do, but we see only a piece of the puzzle. Only the Maker can see the greater picture."

"The guilty prosper. Innocents die," spat Fenris, surprised at his own anger.

"And then they are brought to the side of the Maker. Their suffering ends. They no longer have to fear a blade in the dark. They are no longer hungry, no longer chained. There is always a greater purpose." Sebastian's calm and rationale only fuelled Fenris' anger more.

"Danarius once killed a little boy to fuel blood magic that let him impress his fellow Senators at a party. What was the purpose there?" demanded Fenris. "Why did the Maker allow that to happen? To an innocent child?"

"Perhaps it was witnessing that which will give you the strength to prevent it ever happening again. The Maker didn't cause it or allow it, Fenris. He gave Mankind free will, to do good and evil. It is our choices that matter." Sebastian sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Fenris, if something is troubling you, as a chantry brother, I am free to hear confessions. A burden shared can be a burden halved."

"I – I have done terrible things, Sebastian. Awful things." Fenris closed his eyes and saw once again the bodies of the Fog Warriors littering the forest floor. Children, pregnant women; he slew them all. How could Sebastian sit there and pretend that any god would be able to forgive such atrocities?

"Fenris, you should know that the one who orders a murder is the one guilty of it, not the one who carried the blade."

"And yet, it is still their blood on my hands. I killed them because my master ordered it and I'd been conditioned to obey. But I was the one who wielded the blade, I was the one who snuffed out their lives as if they didn't matter. I am the one who is haunted by their deaths. I doubt Danarius gives them any thought at all."

"Do you enjoy killing, Fenris?" asked Sebastian softly.

"What sort of question is that? No, I don't enjoy it. I take no pleasure form it, but sometimes it is necessary."

"And the Maker understands that, Fenris. Chantry tenets are a guideline, but you have to take each case on its own merit. Say you were a farmer attacked by bandits who threatened to kill your family. The bandits demand to know where they are. But you lie and send the bandits off in a different direction. The farmer lied, but has he sinned?"

"No, I don't believe so. He was trying to save his family. Lying to the bandits would have been the best thing to do in that instance."

"The Maker understands what is in our heart, Fenris. He knows when someone is truly repentant, truly sorry for their transgressions. It is never too late to shun the darkness and go towards the light."

* * *

Fenris didn't know whether or not he believed in the Maker or any higher power come to that, but after his talk with Sebastian, his heart did feel lighter than it had in a while. Maybe there was something about unburdening yourself to another after all. He made his way to the tea shop in Hightown and wondered if they would even let him in.

The Silver Spoon looked like such an upper class establishment that he wondered why Hawke had chosen it. Peering through the window, Fenris caught glances of well-dressed nobles sitting at lace covered tables while they supped their tea and ate dainty cakes and sandwiches. At least Fenris didn't have his sword, but he was wearing his leather cuirass and leggings, which didn't seem to suit with what the other patrons were wearing.

"Hello, Fenris," said Aveline from behind him.

"Oh, Aveline. Hello." Fenris turned and smiled at her. "Hawke has arranged to meet me here for tea at two bells. I fear I may be under dressed for this establishment."

"Couldn't you go home and get changed?"

"I would, only Hawke and Carver are talking with their mother about their grandfather's will. I didn't want to intrude."

"Well, how about we get you a tunic from the market and you can change in the barracks? It's a while yet before Hawke will be here."

"Thank you, although I'm not sure my coin will be sufficient for Hightown prices," said Fenris, checking his pockets.

"Leave that with me," said Aveline. She hooked her arm through his and dragged him towards the steps. "Come on."

Aveline led him down to Hightown market and headed for Hubert's Fine Goods stall. Fenris didn't think he would be able to afford anything on that stall, never mind clothes. There were silks and velvets, colourful trinkets, necklaces and rings. Nothing had a price listed on it.

"Good afternoon, Guardswoman," said Hubert with a simpering smile. Aveline just glared at him and didn't reply. She lifted up a dark blue velvet tunic with silver embroidery around the collar and cuffs.

"A fine eye you have there. That is ten gold pieces, but I am sure I can come to some arrangement. The finest Nevarran velvet, that is. Well sought after."

"Two silvers and not a penny more," said Aveline, still holding on to the tunic.

"Two silvers?" Hubert spluttered. "You will rob me blind! Eight gold."

"Two silvers," Aveline insisted. "Or I might listen to some of the rumours that have been going around."

"What rumours?" demanded Hubert.

"That you haven't paid the proper import duties on your Orlesian goods. The fine would be a lot more than ten gold pieces. And not to mention how the rumours alone could affect your other trade. People might think you were a charlatan and no buy anything from you ever again."

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me," said Aveline, setting the tunic back down and folding her arms. Fenris was impressed.

Hubert put up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right. Two silvers, but not a word of these prices to anyone else. I am running a business here, not a charity."

"Your secret is safe with me," said Aveline, turning and smiling at Fenris.

Fenris reached into his pocket and took out two silver, which he handed to Hubert for the tunic. Hubert bit into the metal and nodded, before wrapping the tunic up in brown paper and string.

"Your purchase, messere," he said to Fenris, glowering. Fenris had the impression that Hubert's 'messere' wasn't very heartfelt. Hubert was probably used to nobility, not an elf ex-slave who couldn't look less like nobility if he tried.

"Great," said Aveline, grinning widely at Fenris. "Let's get you back to the barracks to change."

* * *

"To my daughter, Leandra, the estate in Hightown and all associated revenues." Leandra's hands were shaking as she read the parchment, tears dripping down her cheeks. "They forgave me. Mother and Father forgave me after all."

"Well the will is hardly a help now," said Gamlen. "The estate's out of our hands."

"I can't believe you sold the estate, Gamlen. How could you do such a thing?"

"You were the one who ran away, Leandra. You can't come sailing back into my life and expect everything to be the same. I'm late for work. We can talk about this later."

Gamlen grabbed a jacket from the back of a chair and headed out, mumbling to himself.

Leandra sat down and stared at her two sons. Hawke and Carver sat down on the bench facing her.

"When I told your grandmother that I was marrying your father, she threatened to disown me. She said my children would be mongrels. My father wanted to lock me in but she told him, 'it's her life, let her ruin it.' I wrote to her when each of you were born. She never wrote back. I'm glad she didn't die hating me."

"I don't think she hated you, Mother," said Hawke. "Grandmother didn't want you to leave. She tried holding onto you the only way she knew."

"She would have been so proud of you. You're everything she would have wanted in an Amell grandchild. She might have had a hard time accepting it at first, but she would have loved you. All three of you." Leandra broke off on a sob. "Oh, Bethany. She was such a daddy's girl, always trailing after your father. Trying to get him to show her one more magic trick. I can hardly believe she's gone. Sometimes I wake up and forget that she's dead."

"I miss her too, Mother. But the last thing Bethany would want is for us to mope about forever."

"I know. I just keep thinking there's something we could have done. It's killing me, to know that she's gone forever. My little girl. I remember that awful creature reaching down and crushing her. And the screams, oh, Maker, I can't forget her screams. It should have been me! I should be dead instead of her!" Leandra's shoulders shook with the force of her sobbing.

Hawke stood up and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, but it wasn't enough, was it? Nothing would be enough. "Oh, Mother. I'm sorry."

Leandra sniffled and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. "Eighteen years of raising and feeding, of telling bedtime stories, of fixing scraped knees and in a minute when I wasn't looking she was gone, just like that."

"Don't blame yourself, Mother. Blame the darkspawn. That's who killed her," said Carver.

"The ogre would have been happy with any prey. Why didn't it take me instead? It was my fault it took Bethany. Why didn't I watch over her better? I miss her so much. There were four of us when the Blight began. It will never be over while there are just three."

"Write to the Viscount, Mother. He'll grant you an audience, I'm sure of it. We saved his son, he has to listen to you."

"Thank you, Aemond. I've already done that, Aveline suggested it last week. I have an audience next month. I couldn't do anything for Bethany, but with luck, I can at least give us a home."

"Thing will work themselves out," said Hawke. "You'll see."

Chapter Text

Part 35

Hawke marched up the steps to Hightown, his feet faltering a little the nearer he got to the top. The ring in his pocket felt much heavier than it should have been. His stomach felt as if it was filled with fluttering butterflies spreading all their wings at once. Was he doing the right thing? He and Fenris had never really talked about marriage or even anything more long-term than what they currently had. Would Fenris feel it was too soon to take such a step? Would he feel pressured to say yes even if he wasn't sure? The last thing Hawke wanted to do was pressure him into anything. And what if Hawke did propose and Fenris said no? What would become of their relationship then?

Whatever Fenris' decision, Hawke knew that he wanted them to remain together, married or not. A rejection of his proposal didn't necessarily mean a rejection of him, did it? Just that Fenris wasn't ready to get married yet. Maybe this was a bad idea all round and Hawke should just forget about proposing altogether.

He removed the ring from his pocket and stared at it for a while, people veering around him as he'd stopped on the middle of the steps to Hightown. This had belonged to his father and Hawke traced the family crest with his finger, imagining how it would fit on Fenris' finger. Hawke shook his head, placed the ring back in his pocket and squared his shoulders as if readying for battle. All these questions and concerns were hypothetical until Hawke actually asked Fenris the big question.

His stomach knotted with nerves, Hawke made his way up the remainder of the steps and he was sweating profusely but the time he reached the top. He dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief and sauntered over the to tea shop. Fenris was already there and waiting outside. Hawke stopped short when he saw him, his breath catching.

Fenris looked like a winter prince in his new tunic, it must be new for it wasn't what Fenris was wearing when he left Gamlen's. The dark blue, while not matching the green of his eyes, brought out the rest of his colouring beautifully. As if sensing he was being watched, Fenris turned and on seeing Hawke his eyes lit up and he smiled shyly at Hawke. His fringe flopped down over one eye and Hawke reached out to push it back. He wanted to do more, to kiss or embrace Fenris in greeting, but they were in public so he settled for his hand on Fenris' soft hair instead.

"How did it go? With your grandfather's will?"

"Better than expected. All the inheritance was supposed to come to Mother, including the estate. She's writing to the Viscount as we speak. Gamlen doesn't think it'll come to anything but I told her to mention how we rescued his son. Now that the will has been found, that's extra proof that the estate belongs to Mother. She has a legal claim on it. She deserves better than Gamlen's hovel."

"You are a good man, Hawke. Not many would care for your family the way that you do."

Now it was Hawke's turn to blush. "Thanks, Fenris. Shall we go in?" Hawke nodded towards the tea shop.

"Maybe we'd be better off going to the Hanged Man," said Fenris. "We don't seem to be their usual clientele."

"I promised you a special lunch and that's what we're going to have. We can go to the Hanged Man anytime. Maybe we'll shock a few of the nobles into fainting." Hawke grinned and was delighted to see it returned in full force.

"Maybe we will," agreed Fenris. Hawke held out his arm and waited until Fenris linked his arm through his.

An Orlesian fop met them at the door, his face was covered with a silver half-mask and his breeches were so tight that Hawke wondered if they were painted on. It was a wonder the man could move. He was wearing an elaborate hat decorated with a purple feather so long it almost touched the ceiling.

"May I 'elp you?" he asked, glancing askance at both of them. He clutched a brace of menus to his chest, as if they were jewels and Hawke and Fenris were thieves. "We only serve people who 'ave made the reservation. We do not cater to anyone who just wanders in off the street."

"We do have a reservation," replied Hawke. "Name of Hawke, a table for two. My friend, a guardswoman, made the reservation on our behalf."

The Orlesian glowered at them both and shrugged his shoulders. "This way, then." Hawke had the impression that the man didn't want elves in his establishment but didn't want to call down the wrath of the City Guard by saying so. Hawke knew that Aveline wouldn't stand for any sort of prejudice from anyone and he idly daydreamed about the Orlesian locked in a cell for the night.

The table he led them to was right at the back, by the door to the kitchen and it was so small that it would barely serve one person, never mind two.

Hawke shook his head and glanced over towards the window. The other patrons were looking curiously now, wondering what was going to happen. "We'll take that table by the window and we will have High Tea for two."

"Very well." The man bowed with a flourish and headed off through a door that led to the kitchen. The other customers looked away and pretended to be interested in their own meals.

Almost as soon as Hawke and Fenris sat down, the foppish Orlesian was back, along with two helpers to carry everything for their tea. A five-tired porcelain cake stand held sandwiches, dainty cakes, scones and jam. Another man set down the tray with the tea-set on it – teapot, two cups and saucers, sugar bowl, spoons and tongs. A third man added a glass jug of milk, the jug so cold that condensation was beading on the glass.

"Thank you," said Hawke and the staff bustled away, either back to the kitchen or to serve other people.

Hawke poured out the milk and tea, adding two sugar lumps to his own cup, but none to Fenris'.

"You remember how I take my tea?" asked Fenris, sounding surprised.

"I notice a lot of things about you," replied Hawke, grinning. "Here, have a sandwich."

Fenris lifted on the triangles of bread and bit into it. He made a face and set it back down. "Ugh. Salmon. I hate fish. Hadriana – Danarius' apprentice – she used to starve me for days then force-feed me fish until I threw up. Even before that, I never really liked fish. I suppose that's why she fed it to me."

"Right. Duly noted," said Hawke. "No fish for the wedding feast. I'll have to remember that."

Fenris' eyes widened. "What did you say?"

Hawke opened his mouth, then shut it again when no words were forthcoming. "Um, this wasn't how I planned this. I'm not really sure I have planned it. It was Mother's idea, but I want it too. I'm not just saying it to please Mother or anything."

"Hawke, you're rambling. Just tell me."

Hawke fumbled in his pocket for his father's ring and held it in the palm of his hand. "Fenris, will you marry me?"

The silence seemed to last for an eternity. Had he made a mess of things? It was too soon, wasn't it? Fenris wasn't ready for this. Maybe he wasn't ready for this. His heart was beating far too fast and he was getting light-headed. Then the fogginess cleared and he heard Fenris speak, but it was a while before Hawke understood any words.

"Meeting you was the most important thing that ever happened to me, Hawke. I can't bear the thought of living without you. Nothing will ever part me from your side. The answer's yes, Hawke. It was always going to be yes." Fenris smiled shyly and lowered his eyes, as if embarrassed he had said such things out loud.

Hawke gaped at him, then gaped some more. "Yes? You said yes!" Hawke leaned across the table and gave Fenris a soft kiss. Fenris blushed pink and pulled away quickly. Hawke was surprised Fenris allowed the kiss at all, considering they were in public.

Hawke lifted up Fenris' left hand and pushed Malcolm's ring onto Fenris' third finger. The ring was a little loose on Fenris, but not enough so that it would slip off his finger. Hawke felt curiously light, as if he could float up to the ceiling. He'd never felt so happy in his life.

"This is the Hawke family ring. It was my father's and now I'm giving it to you as a betrothal ring."

Fenris stared at the ring. "Hawke, I can't take something so precious from you."

"You're precious to me, Fenris. I want you to have the ring and so does Mother. It was her who suggested we get married actually. Said she'd feel better knowing we were married before we go to the Deep Roads."

Fenris chuckled. "So that was what all the strange tension was at breakfast? I thought your Mother didn't approve of our relationship."

"No, quite the opposite actually," said Hawke.

"Varric said it won't be that long before our expedition is ready. Can we arrange a wedding so soon?"

"I thought something small, for our family and friends and a party afterwards at the Hanged Man. Maybe if we become rich after the Deep Roads we can have a big reception then."

"I don't need a big party, Hawke," said Fenris softly. "All I need is you."

Now it was Hawke's turn to blush. "I wasn't sure what you would say. You do want this, Fenris? It's not too soon?"

"We could die tomorrow, Hawke. Life is too short to let it pass you by. No, it doesn't feel too soon. I feel as if I've known you forever."

"I feel the same," said Hawke. He reached across the table and clasped Fenris' hand in his, his skin tingling from the lyrium markings on Fenris' hands. "But now I think we better eat some of this tea. We might need the energy later."

"Oh?" Fenris quirked an eyebrow at him. "You had plans, did you?"

"Yes. Mother has gone to visit Merrill, Carver has gone to see Faith and Gamlen will be at work until eight bells tonight. We'll have the house to ourselves."

Fenris gasped and his hand in Hawke's tightened. "We'll be alone? Truly?"

"Yep." Hawke grinned and was relieved to see Fenris smile back at him. "I have plans for you, so you better eat up."

"Suddenly, I don't feel hungry for food," said Fenris.

"Shall we see if they do take-away?"

* * *

It turned out they did do take-away, but by the time they got back to Gamlen's, neither of them were interested in dainty cakes and scones. Hawke was of the same mind as Fenris – he was hungry for something other than food. It was an appetite of an entirely different sort he was feeling now. They dropped the boxes of cake on the table and made their way to the bedroom, kissing and fumbling beneath clothes on the way.

Almost as soon as they were inside their shared room, Fenris pushed Hawke up against the closed door, making the wood rattle in its frame. Hawke gasped at the sheer physicality of it. Sometimes he forgot how strong Fenris was. Fenris took Hawke's hands and pinned his wrists with one hand. With the other, Fenris stroked along Hawke's cheek, down his throat and back up again, staring at him with an intense green-eyed gaze. Hawke's breath hitched at the intensity in those eyes and his cock hardened even further in his breeches. Hawke struggled to move, not to get away, but just because he wanted desperately to touch Fenris.

Maybe Fenris sensed it, for he released Hawke's hands and wrapped his fingers around Hawke's neck, tugging him down for a kiss. There was nothing gentle or soft about this kiss, nothing tentative or unsure. Fenris nipped and bit at Hawke's lip, pushing his tongue almost so far in Hawke's mouth that it was almost down his throat. As if he just couldn't get enough of Hawke's taste. Tongues tangled, teeth clacked against each other and someone moaned, maybe it was both of them. It didn't really matter.

Hawke put his arms around Fenris' waist and tugged him closer, needing to get closer and then paused, was he being too forceful? Maybe Fenris wanted to be more in control of this? But then Fenris moved those last few inches and Hawke felt an echoing hardness against his own. It was difficult to swallow with Fenris' tongue in his mouth, saliva dribbled down their chins and onto the floor.

Hawke groaned anew, his grip tightening on Fenris' waist. Maker! He'd never been so hard in all his life, it was almost painful. It would be easy to come like this, just kissing and grinding against each other, making a mess of each other's clothes. The thought of it sent another spike of desire, hot and fierce, shooting along his spine and down to his cock.

Fenris pulled away, gasping for breath, his whole face flushed. His eyes had darkened with arousal and he gazed intently at Hawke. "I want to taste you," Fenris said, licking his lips which were still glistening with their shared spit.

"What?" asked Hawke. His mind seemed to have fled somewhere else and although he knew the words, he didn't quite understand their meaning.

In answer, Fenris slid to his knees, graceful as a dancer and fumbled with the laces holding Hawke's breeches closed.

"Fenris, no, you don't have to do that," Hawke said softly. How many times had Fenris been forced to perform this act on another? Did Fenris really want this or was he only reacting to how sex had been before for him?

"I know I don't have to," Fenris said, making no move to get up off the floor, his eyes on Hawke's. "But I want to do this for you, Hawke. I want to reclaim something they took from me. I want this, I promise you."

"If you're sure?"

Fenris nodded.

"Then we'll do it together."

"Together? I don't understand," said Fenris, frowning.

"It'll be easier to show you. Let's get undressed and then get on the bed."

Hawke had never performed fellatio in his life, nor been on the receiving end, but he'd been an avid reader of some of Varric's raunchy tales and he had some theory at least. Fenris stood back up and they began to undress each other, savouring kisses and caresses of bare skin as they did so.

The only time Hawke had seen Fenris naked was in the bath house and at those times he hadn't stared, knowing how self-conscious Fenris was about his body. But he stared today, oh yes. Fenris' cock stood out from his groin, proud and erect, precome dripping onto the floor already. The markings were there two, wrapping around his thighs and on the length of his cock. His markings were everywhere, his arms, legs, chest and torso and as Fenris lay down on the bottom bunk, Hawke saw them on the soles of his feet too.

Fenris saw Hawke staring and placed his hands over his groin, his blush deepening to dark rose.

Hawke gently took his hands away and kissed him, kneeling by the side of the bed. "You don't have to hide from me, Fenris. You're beautiful. All of you is beautiful. Do your markings always hurt? Do I hurt you when I touch you?"

"They hurt most of the time," said Fenris. "But not when I'm like this. Not when I – not when I'm aroused. It feels different then. A painful pleasure? Is that even right? I don't really know."

"Some pain can be pleasurable," Hawke said, going by his own experiences with himself. "When I'm very aroused, I can pinch my nipples hard and it feels pleasurable. If I wasn't aroused, I wouldn't even think of doing it, it would be too painful then."

"So this feeling pleasure with some pain, that isn't unusual, then?"

"No, I don't think it's unusual at all."

"I thought I was some sort of freak, that it was something to do with the ritual Danarius performed. But I don't want to talk about him."

"Good," said Hawke. "For he has no place here. Not with us. Turn on your side," Hawke suggested and Fenris did just that.

Hawke lay down beside him and they spent a few more minutes kissing and caressing before Hawke scooted down the bed so that his head was level with Fenris' cock. They curled slightly around each other due to their different heights, but at long last they could taste each other.

Hawke gripped Fenris' cock in his fist and brought it towards his face, his mouth already watering at what he was going to do. He started with soft licks to the head; Fenris' precome tasted sweet, almost like fruit juice and he licked some more, trying to get more of that perfect taste. When Fenris' lips wrapped around Hawke's cock, he moaned around the cock in his mouth and it took great effort to keep his hips still. It felt amazing, all that wet heat around him and he wanted so badly to thrust into it, but he didn't. He didn't want Fenris to feel forced in any way.

Hawke closed his eyes and concentrated on giving Fenris as much pleasure as the elf was giving him. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, long and hard, around Fenris' cock, hearing and feeling Fenris' mewls of pleasure as he did so. It was so good, being sucked and sucking at the same time. Fenris' cock was long so Hawke couldn't fit all of it in his mouth, but he used his hand on that part of the shaft that he couldn't fit in his mouth. Fenris shuffled closer, as if he needed to thrust too, and widened his legs a bit. Hawke glanced down at Fenris' balls, so full and heavy, and he couldn't resist fondling them with his fingers.

Fenris bucked on the bed and his fingers dug into Hawke's thighs. Oh, he liked that did he? Hawke did it again, firmer this time and whined in disappointment when Fenris pulled his mouth off Hawke's cock. Fenris gazed down at him, his eyes hooded. "Hawke, wait. I don't want to come like this – not in your mouth. And – I – I don't think I can swallow either. I'm sorry."

Hawke understood completely. He let Fenris' cock go with a soft 'pop', but couldn't resist giving a soft kiss to the head as he did so. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Fenris. We'll only ever do what we're comfortable with, remember?"

Fenris nodded. "Thank you, Hawke. So, um, how do you want to do this?"

"I'll lie down, you lie on top of me and we can rub against each other till we come."

Fenris let out a shaky breath. "That sounds good to me." Fenris twisted so that he was sitting up on the bed and left enough room for Hawke to lie down on it. Once Hawke was in position, Fenris lay lengthways on top of him, wriggling a bit as he tried to get comfortable. They both gasped when their cocks rubbed against each other. Their mouths sought each other out for a deep kiss. Hawke sighed against Fenris' lips, a sigh that Fenris returned. Their kisses were soft at first, deep and languid. They kissed for an eternity, teasing, tasting, biting, knowing nothing except the bliss that was kissing each other.

Their lower bodies moved in tandem with their mouths, lips against lips, chest against chest, cock against cock. Almost before they were aware of it, the kisses turned harsher, became more heated and frantic as did the movement of their bodies against each other. It was a torture of pleasure that spiked up and down Hawke's spine. He was hard and aching, his prick throbbing like a second-heartbeat in his groin. He arched up against Fenris, his hands wrapping around Fenris' back. Fenris was returning the kisses with equal fervour.

The weight of Fenris' above him, the smell of sex in the air, the passionate kisses. It was all too much. His senses were overloaded and Hawke felt his balls tightening, as did his lower belly as the orgasm flew ever nearer.

He yanked his mouth away, out of breath and almost wild with desire. "Fenris! Fenris!" Hawke screamed as he came in a rush of white hot heat, spurting between their bodies in a series of short, sharp thrusts. His hands pressed deep into Fenris' flesh and he felt Fenris' markings flare, the lyrium reacting with Hawke's mana and he came a second time as Fenris climaxed for the first. Fenris howled and arched his back, his seed mixing with Hawke's on their bellies.

"Maker!" Hawke gasped. "I think my bones have melted."

Fenris smiled shyly at him. "Isn't that the idea?"

"It is. Why don't we get cleaned up and then finish up those cakes?"

Fenris chuckled and kissed Hawke's nose. "Does nothing put you off your food?"

"Nope," Hawke said, grinning like a madman. "I'm not ashamed of having a large appetite, for many things." Hawke squeezed Fenris' arse, making Fenris squawk with indignation.

"Now, now, we may be engaged, Messere Hawke, but that's for after the wedding. No touching yet." Fenris smiled and kissed him again.

Chapter Text

Part 36

It was the first time since Fenris had come to live with the Hawkes that he woke up alone. Hawke had stayed at the Hanged Man with Varric, as he wanted to keep the Fereldan tradition of not seeing Fenris the night before the wedding. Fenris had been happy to comply; he liked traditions and customs and he knew how much it meant to Hawke. He just wished that he could remember more of his life before so that he too had some traditions. Fenris had no idea of wedding customs on Seheron, which was supposedly his homeland, although he only remembered his time among the Fog Warriors. He didn't even know any traditions of the Fog Warriors as no wedding had taken place while he'd been there. It was too bitter to remember how he'd betrayed them at a word from his former master.

Fenris sighed and turned over in bed, wishing the bad memories away. The fire had gone out in the night, something that had never happened before and he wondered if Hawke had used some magic to keep it alight all night. Fenris lifted up his hand and stared at the ring Hawke had given him. A promise of their forthcoming wedding. Today they were getting married and soon after that they were heading to the Deep Roads on Varric's expedition. If he was honest, Fenris was a little nervous, but excited too.

He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, before making his way over to the basin of water standing on a stool. Fenris and Hawke had both bathed at the Mermaid's Pool last night so he wasn't really dirty, but a cold splash of water on his face made him feel more awake and his eyes less gritty from sleep. Fenris dressed in his blue and silver tunic and a pair of soft doe-skin breeches that Leandra had bought him for the wedding.

Once washed and dressed, Fenris went out into the living quarters and was surprised to see Isabela, Aveline and Merrill there along with Carver and Leandra.

Leandra gave him a beaming smile and kissed him on the cheek. "And how's the groom feeling this morning?"

"A bit nervous," said Fenris, staring at Aveline. He'd never seen her in a dress before and from the way she fidgeted, Fenris guessed she wasn't used to wearing them either. Aveline's dress was a pale blue wool with a high collar and long sleeves. Merrill and Isabela had dressed up for the wedding too – Isabela was wearing a purple velvet gown, albeit with a lower neckline than Aveline's while Merrill was wearing one of deep green with white lace at the neck and hem.

"We've brought you a wedding garland," said Isabela, nudging Merrill who stood up and proffered the flowered garland to Fenris. He looked at them in some confusion.

"It's a tradition," said Merrill.

"I'm not Dalish," said Fenris, making no move to take the flowers from her.

"It's not a Dalish tradition," said Aveline. "It's an Elvish tradition. I saw a city wedding in Denerim once. The bride and groom both wore flowers in their hair, given to them by their brothers and sisters, or other relatives. You're like a brother to all of us, Fenris."

Fenris' throat caught. They thought of him as family? To going from no friends, no family at all to finding all these people who cared for him. It was almost too much to contemplate. "I don't know what to say, except thank you." Fenris took the flowers from Merrill and set them reverently on the table, as if they were a royal crown. "Will Hawke be wearing flowers in his hair too?"

"Yep," said Isabela, grinning broadly. "So you can't say they're girlish or some such nonsense. You both have to wear them."

"Right," said Leandra, ticking off on her fingers. "We have something blue – Fenris' tunic. We have something new – his breeches and we have something old – Bethany's ribbon. We need something borrowed, don't we?"

"Varric gave me this to give to Fenris," said Carver, reaching into his pocket. He held the pin out like an offering.

"A gold-plated noble caste pin?" said Fenris. "Varric said he'd misplaced it."

Isabela snorted. "You do know Varric is a professional liar, don't you? But anyway, let's get this pin on you." Isabela took the pin from Carver and pinned it on Fenris' tunic, right above his heart. Her hands did linger longer than absolutely necessary in pinning the thing to him.

"Isabela," Fenris said in a warning tone.

She laughed and held her hands up. "All right, all right. You can't judge a girl for looking, can you?"

"That was more than looking and you know it." Fenris folded his arms across his chest.

"He is rather handsome, isn't he?" Merrill said, making Fenris blush and stutter.

"He is indeed, Kitten. Hawke is a very lucky man." Isabela sat down beside Merrill and hugged her sideways on. Isabela had no qualms about showing her affection in public. Fenris wondered if he would be able to do that so easily once they were married. Was he waiting for it to be official before he hugged or embraced Hawke in public?

Leandra bustled over to the fire. "And now, time to get some breakfast into you. You'll need plenty of energy today. Sit down, sit down all of you, there's plenty here for everyone. Gamlen had an extra shift at the docks today, so he won't make it to the ceremony, but he said he might pop in at the reception later."

Carver snorted. "Of course he would. Anywhere where's there going to be free ale. I don't think he cares much about the wedding either way."

"Carver!" Leandra admonished him. "That's no way to speak of your uncle."

"It's the truth."

Leandra shook her head at Carver's words, then served out large plates of eggs, bacon, fried bread and sausages along with large mugs of strong Fereldan tea. Fenris looked at the amount of food on his plate in dismay. He'd never had a large appetite, and it had dwindled even more when he'd been starved as a slave. It was difficult for him to eat much food at once. Carver, who was sitting beside him, noticed his distress. "Don't worry, eat what you can. We can share the leftovers."

Leandra sat down with her own plate once everyone else was served. "I hear congratulations are in order, Guard Captain Aveline."

"When did this happen?" asked Isabela.

"Just last week. Captain Jeven was dragged off in disgrace. He'd been taking bribes to look the other way and even recruiting criminals into the Guard. I'm only acting Guard Captain though. No one else wanted the job. That reminds me, Fenris. I was going through some of Jeven's old reports and there were quite a few on you. Where you were living, who your associates were, that sort of thing."

"From whom?"

"I don't know. The reports were old and faded. Nothing recent as far as I could tell. But just be on your guard, won't you?"

"Thank you for telling me."

"Well, that's what a sister would do, isn't it?"

* * *

"Hawke, will you stop fidgeting," said Varric, slapping Hawke's hands away from his clothes yet again. "You like fine, Fenris will look fine. Just relax and enjoy today."

"What if he doesn't turn up?" Hawke asked, anxiety making his stomach churn. Things had been a bit rushed, hadn't they? Maybe Fenris wasn't ready to get married at all.

"Hawke, a blind man could see that Fenris loves you. Of course he's going to turn up."

"He might get cold feet," said Anders.

Varric glared at him. "We don't need that sort of talk, Blondie."

"Just trying to be helpful," replied Anders, shrugging his shoulders.

"I've never seen the Chantry this full before," said Sebastian, glancing round at the filled pews. He'd been talking with them, just going over a few details of the ceremony he would be performing. It wasn't usual for a Chantry Brother to officiate at weddings, the priests were female, but Grand Cleric Elthina had allowed it this once since Sebastian was a friend of Hawke's. She would be there too, of course, otherwise the wedding wouldn't be considered valid. Sebastian would just do most of the talking.

"I think the population of Kirkwall is very curious," said Varric. "I mean, how many elves do you know who get married in a Chantry?"

"A lot of the City elves are Andrastrian, Varric," Sebastian pointed out. "A lot of them have been married in the Chantry."

Varric raised an eyebrow at Hawke. "Oh? Maybe it's you they've come to see, Hawke."

"So they can see how far the Amells have fallen? You could be right there. I don't care if the whole town is here, as long as Fenris is."

There was murmuring and movement at the Chantry doors. Varric and Hawke looked around to see Leandra, Aveline, Isabela and Merrill enter the Chantry and go to find seats. His mother smiled at him and glanced back to the doorway, where Fenris was silhouetted.

Hawke's breath caught in his throat as Fenris made his way up the aisle. Everything felt unreal. There was Fenris, beautiful Fenris, flowers in his hair, making his way to Hawke. It was like something out of a fairy tale. Hawke had balked at first when Aveline and Isabela had told him of the eleven tradition of wearing flowers in your hair, it seemed too feminine. But they'd reminded him, with glares that could curdle milk, that Fenris was marrying Hawke in the Chantry, that he was keeping Hawke's traditions, shouldn't he do the same for Fenris? So now, here they both were, with flowers in their hair and Hawke didn't feel out of place at all. And there was no way Fenris could be mistaken for a woman, flowers or not.

Fenris stopped beside Hawke, in front of the altar, and gave Hawke's hand a reassuring squeeze, smiling as he did so. Three candles lay on the altar, two thin lit tapers, and a fat creamy one which held no flame as yet.

Sebastian beamed at both of them, before taking his place at the pulpit. "Dear friends, we are gathered here today to join these two men in holy matrimony. If anyone here present has objections, let them speak now or forever hold their peace." Sebastian paused, but there was complete silence in the Chantry, as if everyone was holding their breath.

"Hawke and Fenris have prepared their own vows based on ancient Fereldan tradition. Aemond Hawke, you may speak your vows to Fenris."

Hawke nodded, his heart beating like a hammer against his chest. He wished he wasn't so nervous.

"Fenris, I vow you the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine, from this day it shall only be your name I cry out in the night and into your eyes that I smile each morning. I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine, nor shall a grievous word be spoken about us, for our marriage is sacred between us and no stranger shall hear my grievance. Above and beyond this, I will cherish and honour you through this life and into the next. You are my heart, my life and my soul."

"Now you, Fenris," said Sebastian.

"From this day forth, you are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone. I give you my body, that we two might be one. I give you my spirit, 'til our Life shall be done. You cannot possess me for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me, for I am a free person. But I shall serve you in those ways you require and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand."

Sebastian nodded smiling. "Now, each of you take a candle and light the one in the middle, to show that you two are now one and say your final vows as you do so."

Fenris and Hawke each took the candles and lit the large candle in the middle of the altar. They looked into each other's eyes and recited the final vow of their marriage together.

"We swear by peace and love to stand,
Heart to heart and hand to hand.
Mark, O Maker, and hear us now,
Confirming this our Sacred Vow.
I am yours and you are mine,
From this day forth and for all time."

Sebastian shook hands with them both and then turned to the congregation once more. "Aemond Hawke and Fenris have been married according to our customs and laws. What the Maker has joined, let no man put asunder. You may kiss each other," Sebastian said, turning to them with a wink.

Hawke leaned down, Fenris leaned up and the met somewhere in the middle, their mouths pressing softly against each other's. When Hawke pulled away, he saw that Fenris' eyes were glistening with happy tears, much like his own.

"Hello, husband," said Hawke, grinning through his tears.

"Hello to you too, husband," said Fenris, reaching up to caress his cheek.