"You won't have him," she had declared loudly. She had said so much worse before, so how had it come to this? Lying on the ground bleeding out. Why were they even letting her live to see this? Fenris being forced up with blood magic, the look in his eyes. He looked at her so painfully. Like he had been the one to fail her. She gritted her teeth, tears at her lashes.

'What good is my life if the last person I have, I cannot save?' she cried bitterly. Tears fell like hot streams. What strength was left within her?

'I can help you. . . ' a voice whispered. That unholy whisper. Oh god she realized, her magic. Underneath her swords and armor was the magic she had rejected for so long. In her body a strength she had from another world. And just like it always did in times of peril, the voices returned and the magic burned.

"Fenris," she muttered weakly. Danarius had his guards lift her body and he looked at her with a smile. Fenris in pain. Fenris weak. Anders to the side of her, his eyes shut. Varric grunting in pain.

"I will," the magister said cruelly.

'You'll die without me!' voices cried. Deliahn Hawke began to laugh. Everyone looked at her, half as if she was mad. One looked at her with sorrow and agony.

"I won't die, you pathetic creature. You cannot offer such a thing to me," Deliahn said aloud. "Not when I have enough power of my own. . ." she muttered weakly. Danarius looked at her,

"My dear, going mad at the end? Do not fret, he will be quite content once I have rid him of these memories," he said as he began to draw a blade upwards. "If he was not so untamed I would have him do this himself. . ." The rogue woman looked at him as he drew the knife upwards.

And she knocked them all away.

Anders' eyes shot open.

"Magic. . . ?" he uttered weakly. A light glowed from her hand and her strength returned, Deliahn drew at her daggers once again. She knocked Fenris' sword over to him.

"Are you going to let such a time be the end, dear Fenris?" she smiled at him. In his eyes there was a deep and piercing emotion she had never seen. Deliahn shoved her foot into Danarius' stomach.

"A. . . mage?" he uttered weakly. "Wait! You- you could be my apprentice! You'd see him daily then-"

She stabbed him. And then she stabbed him again. And then she stabbed him once more. Eventually his guards were at her heels while she caused a scene of gore.

"I will not lose anything else you monster!" Blood. Everywhere. Fenris could barely stand but he did so. And then there was Anders, standing up too. Deliahn gripped the still living Danarius' throat. Ice formed around her hands and his neck soon was encompassed. She dragged him to the barely standing Fenris and threw him to the ground.

"End it," she growled horribly. "End him. End him and be free," she cried weakly. Covered in blood. He had never seen so much red on her. He did not hesitate.

There was only red. Red. Red. She hadn't told him- she hadn't said a word. She was really a mage?

And she had done the opposite of what he was used to. She used magic to set him free. She looked up at him as she collapsed to the ground.

"Kill me too if you need to," she said weakly. He didn't understand. He felt betrayed and hurt. . .but he also felt liberated. He lifted her head to meet his eyes and his knees gave out as he embraced her.

Red and black. She was smothered in a color he'd never associated with her.

The word was out to the town- The Champion was a mage. Many were uneasy, but some were oddly accepting. Anders found new reason to admire Hawke, and Merill asked her why she hid it. She told the truth – to protect her apostate sister and prevent herself from drawing too much attention.

Templars looked at her wearily. Did they dare to challenge Dehlian Hawke, the Champion, now that they knew she was a mage? Fenris did not visit. Dehlian felt her plans were ruined. As she explained to Anders in detail how she intended to take the city and reveal the truth, Anders felt bested. He had thought of violence. . . and was still thinking of it. She had a different idea.

When Fenris saw her again he was weary.

He gave her a gift, and she tentatively accepted. Red magewear, she thought as she examined it. When she voiced that thought, he laughed.

"Nothing so ominous. It is merely something I'd like to see you wear," he stated simply. He put his hand on hers cautiously. "You freed me, you're . . . a mage, and yet. . ." Dehlian laughed.

"I love you, why would I harm you?" she asked as if he said something silly. "Magic took everything from me. . .and then, I saw it had a chance to let me keep something. So I used it. . .and I'm sorry for lying. I never wanted to lose you, and if you need to leave me to-"

"You're not really good at composing yourself when you don't plan things out, are you?" he asked tauntingly. Dehlian smirked and moved to stand beside him.

"I like to practice all my moving speeches and confessions several hours beforehand. That way when I say them crudely, people will know I mean them," she said simply. He moved towards her.

"This will be hard. . .to . . get used to," he said with hesitation.

"That I am a mage?" she inquired plainly.

"No. . .accepting that if it weren't for a mage, I'd be a slave once again," he muttered. She turned suddenly and seemed genuinely shocked. She moved close to him and pressed her body against him. Her casual smirk was back.

"Well, my dear Fenris, why not repay me by helping me put on my new outfit?" he breathed out at her words, and then smiled plainly before touching her waist.

"I'm afraid it might take a while to figure out how to put it on whilst you're in such a compromised. . . position," he added.

Well, she mused, at least magic was good for one thing.

And if that was the case, she could accept it.