Difference

She feels as though she's been asleep for an unbearably long time, her eyes having hibernated long enough behind the pale lids. She opened her eyes, and the sounds of the Hanged Man filtered through her ears in a rush. Varric and Isabela sat across from her playing Wicked Grace, both of them surely using all of their most clever cheats. Merrill sat in between them, her large eyes flickering between the two players in confusion. Aveline leaned against the table, having a quiet conversation with Donnic as she eyed the game with faint distaste. Anders sat at the end of the wooden table, one of his fingers slowly circling the rim of a full glass of water. Her eyes, as always, trailed over to Fenris, who sat in a chair pulled close to hers. He held her hand in his grip, his callused thumb slowly making circles on the back of her hand. After a moment, though, he stood and stretched his limbs, the lyrium twisting slowly with his muscles. He shot her a look, as though gauging her safety in a bar she spent every night at. His eyes narrowed as she rolled her eyes, and he left without another word. Fenris had never been one to sit still for so long.

Hawke turned her attention to the card game, which had started a new round. Anders had edged closer to Isabela, peaking over her shoulder to see her hand. As he wrinkled his nose, something inside of her mind set off a quiet warning bell.

"Anders, aren't you supposed to be at your clinic?" Hawke asks, her brow furrowed slightly.

He looks at her, his brown eyes creased at the corners.

"I closed it down for the night. I get hardly enough time to spend with all of you as it is." Anders said, shooting her a grin. Fenris has come back by now, and she is distracted from the mage she doesn't see often enough. The elf slides back into the chair next to her, and she can't help but set a hand on his knee. He tenses slightly, but relaxes quickly after. Slowly, he is getting used to her small touches. She can't restrain a smile.

Hawke's other hand fiddles with the sleeve of her robe, which is frayed, but obviously made of nice Orlesian silk. She can feel the magic within the soft fabric. For some reason, Hawke can't seem to remember when she'd bought something so frivolous and foreign. Her brow furrowed further as her nail scratched against the sleeve. In fact, she was hard-pressed to remember seeing anything quite this Orlesian in Kirkwall.

She looks back up again, her narrowed eyes taking in her companions. Something was not right.

The chantry burning… a blade through Anders' back… running, Fenris right beside her…

She blinked, the memories jolting her out of this strange dream state. She could now see the blurs at the edges of her vision, how when she looked outside the window, it slowly faded into nothing. Marian stood up, her chair knocking back against the ground in the process. She was a mage, and had always been able to discern when she was in the fade.

"What sort of demon has captured me here?" She said loudly, her eyes looking at the ceiling. The figures in the Hanged Man had froze, and after a second of hesitation, had attacked.

It had been no easier killing Anders a second time, or watching Varric crumple at her hand. A swift smack with her staff caused Merrill to fall, and a hastily delivered spell disabled Isabela. The demon Fenris stood in front of her, sword swinging through the air. She ducked underneath it and clumsily stumbled away. Despite knowing that it was not really Fenris that she fought, Marian could not bring herself to use magic to destroy him; it felt a little too much like betrayal to sit well in her heart. Instead, she drew a dagger from the fallen body of Isabela and let it whistle through the air and into his throat. He stood for a second, wide green eyes filled with hatred, before crumpling to the ground.

Marian let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The Hanged Man slowly melted away to reveal the Fade. Instead of going forward, she sat on the ground and closed her eyes, letting her mind wander back to where she'd been before.

Marian and Fenris had been travelling through Orlais for a month now, having left Isabela long before. Less people here noticed her, and she had been relieved. In Antiva, a land of assassins and stories, her legend had spread with a vigor.

They had been steadily making their way to her homeland, Fereldan. It had been over a decade since she'd set foot on its slightly smelly soil, and she was anxious to return. Unfortunately, it had taken longer than she would have liked as they had to constantly find ways to make money. She had foolishly left much of her money back in Hightown, and they now found mercenary work to make up for her foolish mistake.

They'd arrived in the small town of Nice recently, though Fenris had been strongly opposed to this. The place practically reeked of the Fade, the number of apostates almost outnumbering the town population. They had been hired by the local chantry to take care of a suspected blood mage in an abandoned warehouse at the outskirts of town.

"You know, I'm getting rather tired of walking into dark places, especially when an alleged blood mage is probably around the corner." Marian said under her breath as she gripped her staff in her hands.

Fenris just made a small sound of agreement with his tongue, his markings glowing faintly in the dark. Marian let her magic swell, trying to sense another connection to the Fade. When she realized what it was with them in the warehouse, she let out a quiet curse. His eyes swiveled over to her, appraising her in the dark.

"It's not some stupid mage… it's a demon. A desire one, I think."

And that was all she could remember. It was safe to assume, though, that she had been captured by the demon. Sighing, she got to her feet. Fenris must have been as well, or else she doubted that she would still be here.

It didn't take long to find him. She'd just walked in the direction her feet had told her to go, and eventually, Marian stumbled upon a broken down little cottage. A light flickered from the top floor window, and Marian slipped into the house. Careful not to make a noise, she bounded up the steps and to the door that the light was coming from. Taking in a steeling breath, she shoved the door open with her foot and swung into the room, staff and teeth barred.

Fenris lay on the bed with a perfect replica of herself, both in a mildly embarrassing state of nudity. Once she had stumbled through the door, Fenris had leapt to his feet, his sword too far to grab. His lyrium markings glowed blue to protect the demon Hawke, but upon seeing who had burst through the door, he quickly understood what had happened. He backed away from both Hawke's, his gaze shifting suspiciously between the two of them.

"Fenris, it's me! You'd know me anywhere-" The demon Hawke began.

"Oh shut up." Marian growled, shooting a freezing spell in her direction. The demon died immediately. Marian turned towards Fenris, who looked as though he were about to tear her heart out. "Snap out of it, Fenris. We're in the Fade."

A scowl remained on his face, but he hadn't ripped her heart out yet; that was always a good sign with him.

"Fine, don't believe me. I'll be waiting for when you get out of here."

Hawke couldn't help but release a sigh of relief when his feet padded behind her a moment later. She didn't really know where she was going, but the fade was a strange place; she knew it would lead them where they needed to go. Sure enough, a desire demon appeared in front of them.

"Mortals, it appears that-"

"Andraste's flaming knickers." Hawke muttered as she sent a spell at the demon. With a yelp, it exploded. Fenris quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Someone's gotten violent lately."

"Shut it, elf boy. Come on. If we get to the inn fast enough, then we can make your dream real, at least."

Thanks for reading, Dragon Age fans. Review, please!