Thank you, MoonDragonLove, for once again being an amazing beta reader.

11/8/2013 - Edited. Removed and added stuff and fixed some confusing lines.

The wind in the willows rustled as Marian Hawke fumbled with the latch on the French doors that lead out to the balcony of her room. The glass door slid open and the salty smell of sea air swirled past her and filled her nostrils. She slid a booted foot out and squeezed herself through trying to make as little noise as possible; the mansion was as quiet as the Chantry during the twenty-second bell that night. Reaching the iron rail guard at the edge of the balcony she hoisted her foot on the top of it and launched herself off and landed with a thump in the soft grass below.

Crouched down, Hawke looked around scanning the garden. She was fairly sure it was clear and began to head through the garden walking as quietly as she could. The night was warm for the spring and she could hear the voices of the slaves in their bungalows as they settled in for the night. The candle light flickered in their windows as she crept along in the shadows. Hawke felt a small pang of loneliness seeing the families together - she hadn't seen hers since she was small back in Ferelden.

At the edge of the garden was a decently sized pond where Hawke spent most of her nights alone. The large willows hung above the water and the ducks Danarius had purchased years ago slept quietly on the other side of the water. Hawke unlaced and removed her boots and stepped into the water. It was cool to the touch and somewhat refreshing in the night's warmth. Slowly she swirled the water with her foot as she stood in the shallow part of the lake and lifted the water with her magic. It rose in a small stream and flowed noiselessly as she moved it through the air.

For some time she stood there, practicing with the water. It had been difficult keeping up with Hadriana lately in class. Hawke knew it was never a good thing to fall behind the other apprentice.

The second bell from the Chantry chimed in the air by the time she left the pond and turned around only to ram into a solid object that let out a gruff grunt as she slammed into it. That object spoke, its voice deep and silken, "Mistress, I am sorry. I was sent to look for you since you are not in your rooms."

Marian looked at the elf, his head was down, starting at his feet. Fenris, Magister Danarius's personal servant stood before her. He was about a head taller than Hawke herself, which was considered tall for an elf. His body had been infused with lyrium which had manifested itself into swirling tattoos onto tanned skin. Hawke could barely see green eyes hiding from behind his white hair.

"It is fine. I shouldn't have been out anyway," she mused. "Has Danarius's called for me so late in the night?"

"Yes, Mistress. Something has come up." Fenris turned to lead Hawke back towards the mansion which loomed above them even in the distance.

Fenris lead her through the winding halls that were all elaborately decorated with tapestries and paintings that displayed the Magister's wealth. The rugs were all from different corners of the world, each rivaling each other in both cost and beauty. Hawke watched Fenris push open the heavy oak doors that lead to Danarius's study.

Danarius sat there as calm,yet seemingly deceiving as ever with a small smile on his face as he gazed at both of them. Hawke forced herself into the room, noticing blood stains that looked fresh on the carpet as she sat in the chair placed in front of his desk. "What do you wish of me, Magister Danarius?" Hawke recited, not looking at his face.

"A letter came for you a few hours ago. Of course, I've already read it," he pushed it towards her, "It's from your father. He apparently thinks that not seeing you for fourteen years is now much too long. Since your testing for becoming a Magister is coming up, I think it would be most appropriate for you to wait to fulfill his request." Hawke knew that for a command, not a request of her choice.

Hawke reached for the letter and unfolded it, but did not read it. "I would send him a letter back. You are dismissed when you are ready." Danarius smirked, leaning forward in his chair.

It read:

Dear Marian Hawke,

I am sorry I haven't written to you before, but something urgent has come up. I believe I am dying a terrible death. I will not go into detail about it but it scares your mother and Bethany something fierce. Everyone, which is, your mother, Carver, Bethany and I all think it is time you return to us in Ferelden. We think it is appropriate for you to make this journey before I pass.

Your father,

Malcolm Hawke

Hawke stood, feeling weak left mumbling, "Thank you, Magister. I will take your words as law." Fenris closed the doors behind her with a loud bang.

IOI

Marian Hawke's earliest memory of her childhood was fuzzy; when she thought on it, she was of standing in her mother's kitchen and the tablecloth catching on fire and hearing her father yell, "I told you so, Leandra! She is a mage!" She then could remember being lifted on to her father shoulders with a squeal. Bethany had padded into the kitchen shortly after and raised her chubby toddler arms and demanded to also be picked up.

The next thing she could remember was a man that she thought stood as tall as a tree in her mother's living room. He had arrived in the middle of the night and her father had been extremely excited to see him as if they were old friends.

"Danarius!" He had called happily and clapped the man on the shoulder, "I'm glad to see you again. When was the last we saw each other? Minrathous when we were-"

"Do not make a show of this, Malcolm. You know why I am here," he cut Malcolm, his voice hiding cruelty.

Marian didn't remember the rest of the conversation, but she did recall being poked and prodded by the man called Danarius. The tests of magic he had her perform felt grueling for such a small child and when he was finally done she had wanted to sleep. Her memory blurred and became vivid again when she recalled that her father had taken her outside the small cottage afterwards and sat her down. "Marian, I want you to keep this. Remember your mother and me by it." In her tiny hand lay a silver necklace. The stone, a sapphire decorated with a lighter blue - lyrium she later discovered - that swirled around it, was held with the sliver. It looked like the stone was suspended by air and she could hardly tell where the silver touched it the wire was so thin.

"It's something that you'll need someday," Malcolm smiled solemnly, a deep sadness in his eyes. He had looked down at her and gripped both of her arms, "Marian, listen to me. You're going to leave and probably never come back. But, remember, if you come back looking for us and we aren't here, go to Kirkwall. You'll find something there at least."

Later that afternoon she had been bundled into a carriage and never returned to the small village in the south of Ferelden. She grew up wondering if they were still there or maybe they had left for Kirkwall. Her father's letters never said otherwise, there were full of happiness and stories about the siblings she never knew, until that last letter arrived in the spring.

IOI

Perhaps it had not even been a week (she couldn't remember since the days and nights blended when one didn't sleep much) before Danarius had told her in private that she needed a theory on magical uses to be presented to him by the time thirty days had passed on top of what was already demanded of her. The morning after that, she would be taken to the stadium - it was commonly used for entertainment that involved slaves fighting to the death and those kinds of things - and there she would prove herself. By proving herself, she knew that it meant fighting another student that belonged to another Magister to the death. It was common practice and was believed that by ending one's journey, another began so death was always unavoidable.

That night - of either day four, or was is six? - she listened to the twenty-second bell chime in the distance from the Chantry signaling that it was only a few hours away from midnight. The sweet tone floated over Minrathous, a port town that was the capital of the Tevinter Imperium.

An owl, whom had made his home in the large oak that shaded part of the herb garden, hooted happily away as he had been since the sun had gone down. Marian Hawke grumbled and palmed her eyes; if she didn't get this right she was sure her teacher, Danarius, would flay her hide worse than a slave's. He had demanded that she and the other apprentice be proficient in herbalism.

The herbalism room - which used to be for storing wine - was big enough for several large tables, a pair of cast iron cauldrons, some herb rack, and a small fire place had been built on the eastern wall a few summers ago. Marian had some of the slaves bring in a book shelf which she crammed against the only open wall space next to the table by the window. She had stuffed it with the books she could find in the library on what she was studying.

"Else?" Hawke called for her softly. When she got no response, she looked towards the spare stool where she had her chambermaid waiting on her if she was needed. The elf girl, with her mousey brown features, wasn't there. "Where, by gods old and new... Oh. I sent her to bed and to send a replacement. Which isn't here yet, of course. Else probably had them get... where is my knife? I need to stop being so forgetful... I have to tell them to bring some more candles..."

Leaning over the table she began to shuffle around the objects. Mumbling once again to herself she shoved her hand under one of the books and accidently hit the blade of the knife hard with her hand. "By the Maker," Hawke cursed as she began to heal herself with the cool touch of magic. She grabbed the handle and moved to resume her project as she thought she heard padded footsteps in the hallway.

"Marian." The voice was commanding and made her jump and squeal, sending the small knife flying through the air in a spiraling arc over her head. It had made brief contact with her neck before it left her hand. She spun around quickly and stood facing Danarius. His look that was questioning. "Where is your slave? I thought I told you to always have one with you. Remember what happened to the girl who didn't have one with her? She was killed." He seemed angry and Hawke suppressed a shudder of fear.

"I sent her to bed. I told her to send up another slave. The girl could hardly keep her head up. I wasn't about to put up with that." She slowed her breathing and spotted the knife resting on the floor. "And that was some time ago."

She grabbed the knife and resumed her work cutting up thyme. Glancing back over to the tome she read over the instructions for the third time and used a little bit of magic to increase the flames under the cauldron. She tossed the thyme into the bubbling liquid.

"I noticed the light under the door," Danarius stated. His robes swished as he moved further into the room and stopped when he stood next to Hawke. He looked down at her work and examined the mixture in the cauldron. "Less heat," he commanded, "and I could only think of one little bird who would be out of her rooms at this hour. If only Hadriana was as studious as you. She might then have a chance at being a Magister before she dies. This mixture won't do, Marian. You've ruined it already." His voice was thick in her ear and it made her uneasy.

"Yes, Magister Danarius. I will dispose of it. My failure shames me," she recited. Danarius had always demanded certain responses from his apprentices' when he spoke to them.

Danarius had always favored her over Hadriana. She was sure that wasn't a blessing, but more a curse. She had been raised by the man and knew his kindness always had strings tied to it. His ruthlessness had made Hawke a somewhat fearful person. Hadriana has been made his other apprentice a few years ago after her previous Magister refused to work with her and Danarius took up the challenge, hoping to push Hawke with some competition which proved to be successful.

"Magister, I should look for my elf," she had tried to make an excuse to go and flee his presence.

"Nonsense. Use Fenris." She glanced behind herself to make sure he was in the room. Hawke hadn't noticed him come in with Danarius. The elf's footsteps were always silent; he reminded her of a ghost and when his lyrium tattoos glowed, it didn't help that image.

"He's a lot better than that foolish girl you insist on using. There is a much better girl I think would serve you better." Hawke tried hiding a look of surprise with looking at her tome again. Fenris was Danarius's personal bodyguard and never went anywhere without him nor were they ever separated it seemed. She considered it an honor to a small degree.

"As you wish, Magister." Danarius began to walk away from her.

"Also, it's three leaves of elfroot, not two. That's what ruined it." The door shut heavily behind Danarius and the elf remained behind. Hawke looked at him and approached the elf nervously. She had seen him ruthlessly murder the other contestants for those markings that graced his tanned skin only a few years prior. His dark hair had fallen out in clumps afterwards and grew in white. She remembered how his voice had deepened and she could swear that he always smelled like the burning residue that lyrium left when used.

"What do you need, mistress?" Fenris's voice was a deep baritone, smooth and warm.

Hawke smiled, "Candles. And when you're done with that, tea."

"What kind would my mistress prefer?" His eyes stared down at the floor and his shoulders were hunched. Is he afraid? Probably. Heis Danarius's.

"Peppermint. Bring two cups, not one." Hawke had a habit of trying to be nice to the slaves. They deserve some kindness with the life that the Gods gave them.

"Of course." With that, he turned to leave and Hawke went back to her work. She had emptied the cauldron in a waste barrel outside and refilled it herself and when she returned the room was lit warmly with candle light and the hearth was crackling with a fire.

Hawke quickly restarted and was soon bent over the cauldron, hard at work. The twenty-third bell chimed as she sniffed at the liquid and wrinkled her nose in distaste. It smelled foul. Next to her, Fenris had placed her tea softly on the table. The red teacup was steaming and filled to the brim.

"Mistress?"

Hawke jumped, startled. She glanced over seeing the elf, "Yes?"

"What would you like done with the other teacup?"

"I thought it was obvious. It's for you," Hawke smiled at him. He poured himself a small cup. Her kindness made him nervous. It was common for a Magister to tie strings to kind acts.

"Grab that stool and sit near me, will you?

She sipped at her tea, her eyes watching him sit on the stool. His shoulders were still hunched which made him look smaller than he was. White hair covered his face and his eyes were averted downwards, staring at the floor. The red tea cup was clutched in his hands, empty.

She moved to push her hair back over her shoulder. She had made a note that her necklace wasn't on her neck and to check her vanity later.

"Fenris?" Hawke questioned, "Might I have a look at your tattoos?"

He rose from the stool. "Would my lady like me to undress then?"

She blushed, "No, your arm is fine."

Marian Hawke took a firm hold of his arm and felt him flinch at her touch with a slight jerk. "I'm not going to hurt you," she breathed softly as if she was trying to calm a wild animal. The lyrium imbedded into his skin was slightly raised like a bump and felt smooth.

She felt him trying to relax and the tattoos lightly glowed. It was even apparent through the light linen of his shirt. While it glowed, she felt a surge of magic awaken inside of her, part of the usual influence of lyrium which made her breath catch.

Hawke briefly saw a small look of fear on Fenris's face before he masked it over with the usual blank expression the slaves wore except the dilation in his eyes gave him away . Hawke pulled her hand away from his arm, feeling the craving for the power imbued onto his arm.

"Thank you, Fenris." Hawke moved back to her table and downed the cup of tea. Her head was spinning from the surge of power from the tattoos. The conductivity between his tattoos and her connection to the Fade was startling; she pondered the idea of using him for her study.

By the time the first bell rang from the Chantry, Marian Hawke was nearly furious with her continued failure with her herbalism. They both had been quiet since she asked to see his tattoos and he had kept her tea cup full; she had caught him drinking the tea also, but said nothing and only gave him small smiles when he wasn't looking.

Hawke yawned loudly. "Perhaps my mistress would like to go to bed?" Fenris offered, "Doesn't my lady have class in the morning?"

"I think so," she responded and followed him out of the herbalism lab.

IOI

Morning always felt like it came too quickly. Sunlight pooled in her bedchamber from the cracks in the silken curtains and the open windows let in the smell of the sea from the ocean that was close to the mansion. Her bed, stuffed with feathers, and covered in plush pillows was a delicacy that few had. The blankets were also rich with comfort much like the fire that had been tended throughout the night by the servants. The bedchamber itself was a mass of riches; rich enough to satisfy any Magister.

Marian Hawke was nestled into the bed, denying that it was morning already. A creaking noise came from the doorway as a slave slipped inside to wake her. She groaned and tried to hide her head under her pillow.

"Mistress? It's time to get up. Your lessons with Master Danarius are at the ninth bell," the slave was a small elf woman plain in her looks. Hawke thought that was for the best; a pretty slave girl was often used for unpleasant things.

"Thank you, Else. Start a bath, will you?" The slave girl nodded and set about her job. Hawke rolled over onto her side and pushed herself up and off the plush mattress. She had gotten to bed late last night with the help of Danarius's bodyguard, Fenris, whom had without being asked had started a fire, fluffed her pillows and had even tucked her into her bed.

It had felt like a dream in the small herbalism lab next to the elf. He had made her heart quicken and flutter. That elf was a distraction. Probably not a good one either. Their conversation, now that she had thought about it, was unexpected. Hawke pushed it from her mind as she slid into the scented bath. It smelled like roses mixed with sandalwood.

Breakfast was brought to her after Else had dressed her in deep blue robes with a gold colored belt. Else had insisted on placing her hair in a net that was at the base of her neck and was decorated in pale sapphires. Her face was painted lightly and her nails were manicured and lacquered to match her clothes while she sat at her vanity; the necklace wasn't there. Else had also insisted on this routine every morning; it was less extravagant than the one Hadriana tended to do and Hawke preferred it to be.

Shortly after the eighth bell had rung, Hawke left her bedchamber, silently wondering why Else had been limping slightly and her wrists were bruised. The girl had been quicker than usual despite these injuries. Hawke hoped that Danarius hadn't gotten to the girl after he had left last night.

"Marian!" The voice was thick and husky. Hawke lifted her head only to see Hadriana glide down the hall in her extravagant robes of purple and cream. The hood and hem were lined in fur and the belt was decorated in moonstones with amethysts. Inwardly, Hawke groaned. Hadriana was a terror to her on her best days; the days Hadriana wasn't in a good mood, usually someone suffered by her hand. She was cruel and deceitful like a true Magister.

"Good morning, Hadriana," Hawke nodded. The dark haired woman looked a lot like Hawke, except Hawke's eyes were more blue and her complexion wasn't as dark. They had been mistaken for sisters by visiting Magisters in the past.

"I saw that the elf Danarius favors put you to bed last night," Hardriana pried quickly. Small talk with her never happened when she wanted to know something.

"He was lent to me for help with my studies last night. Else isn't exactly the strongest woman," Hawke was short with her answer. She did not need her fellow apprentice assuming things and trying to make her confess to things that weren't true. The last time that had happen, she had been lashed hard enough she wasn't able to sleep on her back for a month. Danarius had also put her to work for a week out in the fields with the other slaves. He had told her that maybe some hard labor might set her straight and he didn't raise her to be such a disgrace.

"I see. Are you sure nothing-"

"Shut up, Hadriana. Stop assuming things about me. I know you have a thing for ratting people out," Hawke snapped.

"My, my, Marian," she cooed, "I would never do that." Her fake sympathy was sickening. Hadriana pretended to be wounded with a gesture like she was pained. "Marian, you know that I'm your friend and you can trust me. You're like a sister to me." Her lies were as plain as day. She adjusted the belt on her waist and messed with her robes as she spoke. "That elf is awfully handsome. I don't blame you if you took him to bed with you. I sure would." A lusty grin spread across her face.

"Um..." Hawke blushed a brilliant pink.

Hadriana winked at her and walked away saying, "There is no shame in it, Marian."

"That's not what happened," she spoke loud enough for the other apprentice to hear with a grumble.

"Keep telling yourself that!" Her wicked laugh echoed down the long corridor. She threw an arm around Hawke's shoulders, "It's not a big deal, Marian. I like to take a few to bed every now and then myself."

Eventually, they reached the room that was used for study. That day's lessons seemed to be going slower than normal. Eventually, Danarius had set them lose with learning a spell to make plants grow faster. It had proved to be a challenge when Hawke had put a little too much effort into it and her plant grew so large the pot it was in exploded.

IOI

A few days had passed and the sixteenth bell's noise reached her ears, Hawke found herself sitting in the west gardens underneath an oak tree. She was pouring herself over the book that had been written by Shartan, one of the people who had helped Andraste whom happened to be an elf. A wicker basket stuffed with food sat near her on the grass.

A light breeze flew past her, shuffling her hair into her turned down face. She lifted a lithe hand to push back the offending stands. The long length of her black hair had been set loose that day; there had been no classes with Danarius for the past several days, so she hadn't bothered with it. She assumed the classes had been stopped due to trouble with some of the shipping companies he was involved with or that the sell swords he employed were causing trouble.

There also had been talk of a spring gala at the Hall of Roses in a few days; Hawke hoped vainly she would be allowed to attend. Sometimes Danarius had forbidden her and Hadriana from attending such events on occasion. She figured it was a control thing or simply the fact that Hadriana always drank too much and ended in someone else's bed.

Hawke reached into the basket and removed an apple as she glanced up. Some of the slave children were playing across the garden under the watchful eye of the old elf called, Nana. Nana had been in charge of Hawke when she was small. She had always spun tales of knights fighting dragons and ladies fair for Hawke and the other elf children. Danarius had removed Hawke from Nana's care by her tenth summer.

"Mistress? Where have you gone?" She could make out Else's faint voice which sounded afraid.

"I am over here, Else. What is it?" She called.

"Master Danarius needs you, Mistress."

"I'm coming. Take me to him," Hawke grumbled, pushing herself up from the ground. She pushed her things into Else's arms and headed for the mansion.

Danarius's study was a grand room; the floor was a dark wood, the walls lined with book shelves, the windows were decorated with red satin curtains and a large desk that was carved sat solidly in the middle of the room. She noted that the blood stains from the previous nights were gone as Else pushed the heavy doors open. "Here I am, Magister Danarius. I have come at your request." Hawke spread her robes and bowed into a curtsy. She noticed Fenris stood off to his right.

He looked at her and nodded. "Sit," he commanded, "You have heard that there is a gala soon, yes? Well, either way, you'll be going since you are close enough to being a Magister as it is. I have already told Hadriana she will not be attending - she's not pleased, but I do not care." The sounded like that would cause a problem.

Hawke fidgeted in her chair, "Yes, Magister."

"There will be a dress maker in your room. I suggest you hurry." The dismissal left no room for her to say anything, but defiantly she spoke, "Magister, under your permission I would like to use your slave, Fenris, for my research for my study."

Danarius looked taken back briefly, "My, my little bird, so grown up and being so demanding already. I can see where you wish to go with this. I do suppose I can go without his... talents," a sickening smile spread across his face that made Hawke suppress a gag, "for you, my little bird."

Danarius stood and walked over to Hawke and laid a hand on her cheek and pulled her face up to look at his. She blankly looked at him, hiding fear in her eyes. "Do treat him well."

He walked away, "Fenris!" Danarius snapped, "You're to attend Marian for some time. Go on, the two of you," he sneered at Fenris then looked favorably at Hawke, "the dressmaker doesn't like to wait."

The two of them both fled as fast as they could at a walk out of the study.

IOI

Dear Father, Mother, Bethany and Carver,

I will be leaving Minrathous in about two months at the most. Magister Danarius has informed me that I will be going through with my final tests and become a Magister starting today which is the first of Nubulis. I think that is Drakonis for your calendar. So, after Summerday in the month of Molioris (is that called Bloomingtide there?) I will arrive.

Father, are you really not doing so well? I am greatly saddened to hear it. I hope that I will see you before you join the Maker at his side. Or better yet that it isn't serious and you will recover before I even leave Minrathous.

Bethany and Carver I do hope your studies are going well. I would like to see them when I come to see everyone.

Lastly, Mother, please keep everyone safe and healthy like you have been.

With love,

Marian Hawke.