Spoilers ahead, so please be warned.

A/N:

In preparation for Inquisition, I decided to revisit the first and second Dragon Age.

This story is my rendition of the major events that happened in Act II and onwards, filling in some time gaps. It is not merely a rehash of things we've already seen in the game, however. "The Saarebas" is a different take on what happened in the First Battle of Kirkwall. Because the events have been altered, the time line may be a little shifted and Act III will be heavily modified.

After the game, I found myself asking questions. Namely, this was my first time playing a mage in DA2, and I was surprised that - although people did react to the fact that Hawke was using magic - there wasn't enough drama with it. I kept thinking, she's an apostate! A mage with her power rivals Orsino, yet nobody really seems to care. Plus, I was disappointed with the way the Qunari arc ended. So, I decided to write this.

This story is a companion story to "Chronicles of the Fateshapers" - a story about the Hero of Ferelden and her saga. Characters from all of these stories will be appearing and all plot events related here and there are interconnected. My intention is to pull the stories of Hawke and the Warden together and tie them into what will happen in Inquisition.

Please let me know what you guys think :)

Full Summary:

To the Qunari, she was Basalit-an, or Saarebas - a creature to be feared and respected in the same breath. As the their uprising takes a dangerous turn, Hawke must make a decision that will change her life forever. Submit to the Qun or face the end of Kirkwall. Fight and win freedom for the city or face defeat and lose everything she is. When she makes the ultimate sacrifice for those she loves, it is up to them to save her. [Fenris/F!Hawke/Anders]

Warning: Rated M for violence, language, and mature themes.

Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me. Dragon Age is owned by Bioware. Cover image for the story belongs to Deviant Art artist Rossilyn (amazing artist!).

The Saarebas

Chapter 1

Body by mangled body, Cassara Hawke carved, burned, and tore a path to the Keep through the streets of Kirkwall. The flood of Qunari seemed endless. Like tall, grey, blood-soaked waves they rushed to meet her, to stop her, crashing again and again against walls of resistance. A journey that should have taken less than an hour felt as though it lasted an eternity. Hawke was no stranger to battle – no newcomer to the haze of fear and adrenaline that pumped through her veins. Whether the enemy was something as terrifying as a Darkpawn Ogre or as plain as a Coterie thug, she'd never lost control of her emotions. Always, the Maker helped her keep her wits, helped her prioritize one thing above all else – survival.

There came a point when she stopped seeing their faces – when all she could make out was a wall of bodies prioritized by the threat they posed to her and her companions. Hawke glanced between her friends, taking note of Anders' exhausted stance, the bloody cut on Merrill's leg, the rivulets of sweat dripping down Fenris' skin. Smoke streamed all around; flames devoured the city she had come to call home. And not just. The fire of Qunari anger consumed innocents as well. She heard their screams, there, in the back of her mind where she did not dare to tread for fear of losing her focus.

Just when the last Ashaad fell before them, a new wave appeared. From the corner of her eye, she saw Anders down a blue potion. Lyrium – something she felt she needed badly. Between maintaining an arcane shield around herself to ward off Qunari arrows and summoning maelstrom after maelstrom of fireballs and lightning storms, Hawke felt her reserves depleting quickly. Gathering her will, she purged all thoughts of possible failure from her mind. Now was not the time. Later, she could dwell on negativity. Right now, they all had to make it through this in one piece.

"Katara, bas!" one of the Ashaad shouted, aiming a spear directly for Merrill. Too preoccupied with casting another spell, the elf was completely unaware of the danger. Narrowing her eyes, Hawke used her magic to pull on the stones beneath her feet. In a split second, she gathered a mass of rocks and hurled it with all of her strength at the assailant. Too late. The spear went flying. With her free hand, she reached out and sent a wave of force at Merrill, knocking her off her feet and out of the way of the spear's trajectory. The elf cried out in panic, but Hawke reasoned that a small bump on the head would be better than a Qunari spear in the gut. Immediately, the other Ashaad turned to face her, identifying her as the new threat.

To them, she was Saarebas – one of the most hated and dangerous beings they could face. Though she wasn't alone. One by one, she saw them take note of Anders and Merrill. Not good. If Anders went down, they would lose their healing magic. Should Merrill be incapacitated, they could lose the benefits of her entropy spells – the only thing that helped them against much stronger opponents. Not to mention, she still hadn't mastered stone armor, making her the most vulnerable target of them all. Briefly, her gaze flickered to Fenris.

The elf glowed with power, blood-lust, and rage. Hawke didn't understand it, but at times he seemed to know exactly what she needed him to do. Using his unnatural strength, he ripped through enemies twice his size as easily as a blade through silk. The moment he saw the Qunari look in Merrill's direction, he let out a howl that chilled even Hawke. The Ashaad looked intimidated. They hesitated for a moment before a larger figure stepped out from behind them. Hawke swore under her breath. A Sten. As Fenris engaged the lower ranking soldiers, the Sten lifted an enormous greatsword in the air and shouted something else in Qunlat. Those fighting Fenris seemed bolstered. In her peripherals, Hawke saw Merrill finally get to her feet.

"Anders, protect Merrill," Hawke barked out, her attention now completely narrowed on the Sten. She glanced at the elven blood mage; they shared a nod of understanding as she began to cast a hex of torment. Cassara looked back towards Fenris. The elf was a spot of bright blue as he whirled in repeated circles, slicing at the Qunari in a vicious whirlwind. The move was high risk, high reward. Should the Qunari not succumb to the damage from his strikes, he would be left vulnerable afterwards. No hesitations, then.

Hawke lifted her staff into the air and rammed it down into the ground, wedging it in a crack her earlier stone fist had formed when she'd torn it from the earth. Both hands now free to wreak havoc, she took a deep breath, set her legs wide apart, and drew on strings of magic around her. Using nothing but physical and elemental force, she focused on balling the energy together. Visualizing it as a bottled hurricane, she lifted her arms and dropped them down on top of the Qunari surrounding Fenris. Her muscles screamed with the effort, but she watched with satisfaction as the group of six warriors were hurled like rag dolls away from her comrade. As it turned out, her intuition had been right on target. Fenris, immune to the blast thanks to Hawke's precise control, sank to the ground. He leaned on his weapon, breathing coming in strained bursts. Convinced that he was safe for the moment and could recuperate with a stamina draught, Hawke clenched her jaw and gathered more force between her palms.

The Sten roared, furious at those under his command. His eyes locked with her own. Just like the others, he knew what she was now. Though she'd given Fenris a reprieve, she'd made herself the prime target. Better make it count – her mind whispered. At that moment, Merrill finished casting her hex. It flew towards the Sten, hitting him directly in his vulnerable side. Though he staggered, he seemed to shake off the effects. No matter. It was all the pause that Hawke needed. This time, she visualized the power in her hands as a landslide – an avalanche bearing all of nature's wrath and power. She positioned the force above the Sten and released, pulling back with her arms in an angular motion. In a flash of white, the warrior was lifted in the air then slammed face-first into the stone beneath him. A crack echoed through the courtyard.

"Now, Fenris!" she commanded. He said nothing in response. Simply obeyed. With a precision that she'd only seen Fenris display with a greatsword the size of the one he wielded, the elf rushed forward. His form became a glowing blur as he rammed into the Sten at full charge then scissored upwards with the blade in his hands. The air screeched, howling as the force from Fenris's attack met with Hawke's magic. The Qunari wasn't just thrown – he was obliterated. Hawke's spell had stripped all armor and defenses from him, leaving him as fragile as egg shells. The elf's upwards psythe made sure to exploit that, ripping him apart from within.

Satisfied that their enemy was defeated, Hawke sank to one knee. Exhaustion hit her with the mercy and lenience of a concrete wall. She was still new to Force magic and had been struggling to master it for months. Fighting dizziness, the mage stood and gripped her staff, feeling its enchantments grant her some strength. Not now. Now was not the time to fall apart. Driving back the protests of her mind and body with sheer will, she looked around to determine their location. At least that battle hadn't taken them off track from their goal. They were nearly at the Keep. Anders dashed over to her, examining her with a critical eye.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Had the situation not been so dire, she would have felt soothed by his gentle voice. As it was, all she could focus on was keeping a cool head on her shoulders and leading her friends to safety. She cut him off when he began to say something else, directing his attention to the stairway that lead to the entrance of the Qunaris' new base of operations in Hightown. Anders hissed when he saw more warriors stream out from the top of the stairs. Both of them tensed. She saw Fenris lower himself into a battle-ready stance. Leading from the back was a Qunari mage, unchained.

"Anders, take my lyrium draughts." He started to protest, but she shook her head. "You are the only one with healing magic. If either of us goes down, we will need you to bring us up." Unwilling to listen to any protests against this logic, she tore one of the pouches off her belt. "Take it and stay as far back from that mage as you can." Merrill hurried over to them.

"What should I do, lethallan?" she murmured, eyes brimming with determination.

"Merrill, the moment they swarm together, start casting your tempest and chain lightning. Make sure you wait until they are close together." The elf nodded. "The four of us will have to stay far apart, but make sure you are in range of Anders' healing."

"I know some healing," Merrill cut in.

"No. Reserve your strength for taking down those warriors. After you've cast the big spells, try to slow the mage. But, don't make him your first priority." Hawke stepped forward. "That one is mine."

At last, she met Fenris' heavy stare. They shared a look and, magically, he once again seemed to know exactly what needed to be done. Hawke's thoughts strained against her self-control, tempting her to think back to the night after Hadriana's death. They hadn't spoken much since then, not since they'd exchanged heated words and he'd stormed out of her estate. Weeks had flown by like months without a word from him. Yet, when the Qunari crisis began, she'd opened her door to find him as one of the first of her friends that insisted he would not leave her side. Just for a moment, she allowed her heart to throb with pain and longing for him. After so many years fighting side by side, her love for him still seemed entirely one-sided.

Now is not the time, Hawke – her instinct warned. And how right it was, for at that moment she saw two more Stens filling down after the Qunari mage.

The battle was not going in their favor. The more Qunari they cut down, the more seemed to stream and crawl out of every crack in the ground. Twice now, Anders had been forced to use his strongest healing spell to keep them going – a task which left him drained and vulnerable. As Hawke saw him down another lyrium draught, she was glad she'd given him her entire belt pouch. The ground was littered with bodies – some torn apart by metal, some crushed, and others charred husks thanks to Hawke's flames.

In the end, she'd fallen back on using fire and ice as they drained her reserves a little less. Though she knew not what was keeping her upright any more. She'd gone past the danger point some time ago – the point when darkness began to creep into her vision and whispers from the Fade sounded louder and more tempting. Desires murmured in her ears – how much she wanted to win this, how she wanted to save her friends, how she wanted their love. Pride made sugar-coated promises of gold – how if she just gave in she could destroy the Qunari and rule Kirkwall herself. To tune them out, Hawke bit the inside of her lip, the pain helping her stay focused despite her desperation.

Three Stens lay dead now, unmoving atop the pile of corpses. As she saw two more rush out of the Keep, she wondered if the Arishok wasn't desperate as well. Surely he didn't have much more to send against them. Surely this would be over soon. Her eyes darted frantically around the courtyard, searching for one target in particular – the mage. After she'd nearly shattered him with ice and stone, he'd blinked out of sight. In-between assisting Fenris with his numerous melee opponents and keeping stray fighters off of herself and Anders, she'd completely lost track of the Saarebas.

A drop of sweat stung her eyes. She blinked to clear her vision. For the moment, she'd had no choice but to release the arcane shield around herself in favor of manipulating Fenris' opponents with force and elemental magic. It made her open to ranged attacks. How the enemy hadn't noticed was beyond her. Perhaps it was thanks to Fenris and the impression he made on the battlefield – the terror he instilled even among the fearless. Not only that, but he knew the moment an enemy targeted one of the casters, especially her. When he saw that, he made sure that they could not look away from him again.

When will this end? – a stray thought beckoned. Hawke shook her head to clear the fog there and raised her arms in the air. Her voice was hoarse from chanting, so she cast her next spell in her mind. Heat, flame, fire, destruction – heed me. Come to me. Envelop me. Rise up to meet my will and burn my enemies out of existence. Fire nipped at her fingertips, sparking to life and spreading down to her forearms. Above the enemies surrounding Fenris, a cloud of ash whirled into existence. Hawke felt the drain once more – felt it on her soul – and wondered how much longer they could last. Burn them. Burn them all to dust. Leave nothing.

Suddenly, a sound. Something was behind her. No. She couldn't stop casting. She couldn't turn. The magic held her in its sway as it used what little remained of her mana to create the firestorm. Someone shouted behind her in Qunlat. Though she did not know the language, she understood one word with utmost clarity. Gaatlok – the dangerous explosives the Qunari used to shatter stone. At that moment, a wave of dread pooled in her stomach. She knew she was about to suffer a possibly fatal hit unless she did something. The fire storm finally released its hold on her. Without missing a beat, she began to cast a barrier around herself.

"Fenris!" Merrill screamed. "Watch out!" Time seemed to stop. Her train of focus completely thrown off, Hawke whipped her head around to look towards where Merrill was pointing. It was him. The Saarebas. He'd materialized out of nowhere and was now aiming a spear made of stone at Fenris' exposed back.

No! He'll die! – and that was the end of reason. Her vision swam with red. The barrier she'd been casting to protect herself sputtered and died. Hawke funneled all of her energy towards Fenris, using her hands to point the way. In less time than it took to blink, the sphere of force wrapped itself around the elf, a wall harder and more unyielding than any armor. The Saarebas hurled the spear. It shattered on the barrier. Fenris stopped in mid-swing, turning to see his assailant. As his eyes flickered to Hawke's, she saw confusion and something that resembled fear erode the veneer of calm on his features like acid.

Thank the Maker – she thought. The world tilted. Something pushed her forward. Then darkness claimed her and she knew no more.

Fenris saw, but couldn't believe. A general numbness had fallen over him when he saw Hawke being thrown by the blast from the Gaatlock. Somehow, an Ashaad had snuck past Fenris to flank her. He'd been so focused on keeping everything else off her and Merrill that the thought of someone sneaking around him hadn't crossed his mind. He heard someone shouting her name, realized in a haze that it was his own voice. She flew hard and fast, her back finally colliding with a nearby wall with a sickening sound of breaking bone. The barrier around him faded away abruptly.

The battle seemed to freeze. Fenris turned and saw the mage that had been responsible. Already, he was casting another spell. Much like it had during his fight with Hadriana, Fenris' mind shattered. Any control that he'd had over his rage faded into nonexistence. Fury so great filled him that he thought he would be sick. This thing had dared to hurt her – had dared to hurt his Hawke.

She could be dead - a voice spoke from the shadows of his rage. This mage has killed her. Something tangibly snapped. Later, he wouldn't remember much of what happened next. The mage hurled a fireball at him. Fenris stood in place, the lyrium in his skin glowing more intensely than ever before. More magic was thrown his way. He absorbed it all until the Sarberaas hesitated. Not giving him a chance to ponder about this turn of events, Fenris crouched down and leapt forward. The mage was writhing in his grasp before he could finish casting another blink spell. Fenris held nothing back. No restraint. Not for the filth that had dared to harm their leader.

The image of Hawke hitting the wall flashed in his mind; the sound of it; the blood trail her body left behind as it slid down the stone. He felt the heart of the Saarebas fill his hand, felt it give a last shudder of fear before Fenris' claws crushed it into slime. How had he not seen it? How had he failed her so completely? The image flashed again – Hawke flying through the air, helpless because she'd protected him. Him. He fell farther and farther into a black void until all he could hear was his own anguish.

She could be dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

"-ris! Fenris, please stop! They're dead already!" The strained voice snapped him back to reality. He blinked, feeling lightheaded. Merrill's face swam into focus. "Fenris!" A beat. The elf looked at her first, then at the ground. Blood was everywhere, soaking his armor, caking the courtyard, staining the soil. He'd obliterated anything that stood in his way. Closer to the Keep, a Sten shouted, pulling his men back in to retreat. A miracle.

"Hawke," he whispered, turning around. "Where is…?" He staggered towards the spot where he saw Anders kneeling. The mage's hands were glowing, rending despair disfiguring his normally passive face. Merrill tried to say something, but the elf did not hear. His feet took him in a run to Hawke's side. "Hawke…Hawke…Maker…" he fell to his knees beside her, wishing that he could look away from the gruesome sight. Blood pooled in a lurid halo around her head. She was as still as death. He reached out to touch her cheek, fearing the worst.

"Don't get in my way, Fenris," Anders growled, biting out the words through clenched teeth.

"Is she…"

"I don't know," the mage interrupted. Fenris could see how much that terrified the man – the uncertainty – and for once thought they might agree on something. His hands moved up towards her head. "I wish I could see the injury, but we can't move her. Not yet." Merrill knelt beside them, clasping her hands together and saying a prayer in her native tongue.

"Lethallan…please be alright…"

"How did this happen? She would never let something flank her like that…" Anders continued, his tone feverish. "I was watching. Everything was fine. She was casting a barrier." Fenris hung his head, feeling defeated.

"To protect me." He slammed his fist into the ground, welcoming the pain. "The fool! I would have been fine. Why? Why?"

"Hawke saved your life," Merrill added, reaching over and placing her hand on Fenris's shoulder.

"Nobody asked her to."

"She is a fool," Anders cut in. "To save your worthless hide. You, who doesn't know or care about anything other than your own plight." His hands shook from exhaustion as he funneled everything into the spell. Fenris felt his hackles rise, the hatred from earlier seething back to the surface.

"Silence, abomination."

"You, who threw her away. You, who continue to live in the past among things and memories that no longer matter."

"Anders, that's not true," Merrill began. Fenris gestured for her to remain silent.

"No one asked your opinion, blood mage," he sneered. "She was protecting you, too. All of us."

"I hardly think this is the time for this, Fenris," she replied, frowning. "This isn't - "

"When is the right time, then? Again…again, magic has taken from me."

"Hawke! Marker's breath, no…I won't let you die like this." Anders cursed. The glow around his hands intensified. "She's slipping away. No. Damn it, I don't have enough mana…" He reached into a pouch on his hip, one Fenris recognized as Hawke's. What was he doing with that? Keeping one hand in mid-cast, he pulled the cork out of a blue vial with his teeth and downed the contents. His eyes closed and when they opened, they were glowing blue in sync with his hands.

"Anders, be careful…the spirit," Merrill whispered.

"I don't care," came the steadfast reply. A few moments passed – minutes that felt like centuries – until Hawke's chest moved with a deep breath. The glow around Anders' hands subsided. The mage looked completely drained. One heartbeat. Then two. Fenris hadn't realized he'd been holding Hawke's wrist until he felt the gentle, sluggish, rhythm beneath his fingers.

"Anders?" Hawke murmured. Her eyes fluttered open – brilliant blue meeting the mid-day sun. The abomination looked like he wanted to embrace her, but stopped himself at the last moment. Fenris glared at him.

"Hawke, can you move?" he asked instead. She pushed herself into a sitting position and winced. Immediately, Anders wrapped his arms around her back to support her. "Be careful. Where does it hurt? Tell me."

"Fenris," she said faintly. "Where is he?" When their eyes met, the elf looked away. She made a small sound of pain and clutched her head. "Andraste's tits," she swore, "which one of you hit me with a hammer?" Anders helped her to her feet. It took her some time to gather her thoughts. "The Qunari. Are they all dead?"

"Looks like they've retreated for now, but something tells me they aren't the type to hide," Anders reasoned.

"Well, we don't have much of a choice but to try and get in there before they kill all the nobles of the city."

"Hawke, that's suicide," Anders protested.

"It is. Which is why I should be going alone." At this revelation, Fenris whirled around. No longer able to contain himself, he stepped forward and gripped the front of her tunic.

"Have you lost your mind?" he hissed. "Do you want to die?"

"I have no plans of dying today," she replied evenly.

"Could have fooled me." He shook her, furious yet still mindful of her recent injuries. "What were you thinking? Why did you protect me?"

Hawke hesitated for a moment. "Because you are my friend." She slapped his hands away and straightened her clothing. "My body just moved on its own."

"Don't ever do that again."

"Don't presume to order me around, Fenris," she frowned. "I'll do what I feel is necessary."

"Including killing yourself?"

"That wasn't in the plan, no. I knew Anders had my back." Those words stung more than they should have. Fenris's hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"So you trust the abomination more than me?" A thick silence followed in the wake of that question. Fenris barely restrained his rage. Who was he truly angry with? Himself? Most definitely. Hawke? Even more so. Yet, below this emotion lay something more terrible – the thought that he'd almost lost her. As she turned her back to him, he wanted nothing more than to embrace her with the same ease that Anders displayed – to touch her as casually as Merrill did.

"We need to go," Hawke finally said. "This isn't the time or place for this conversation. Lives are at stake."

"You still haven't mentioned a plan that doesn't involve you becoming a martyr," Anders interjected. "I'm going with you, Hawke. I won't let you face this alone."

"Me three," Merrill cut in cheerfully.

"I have a feeling the Arishok might listen if I appeal to his honor," Hawke said, thoughtful. She looked at Fenris. "I know you're angry with me, but I've seen you speak with him before. If we're going to survive this, I'll need you, Fenris."

"Why are you so desperate to defend this city?" he inquired. "Why give your life for these people?"

"I'd rather it not come to that. But, if it does, then I suppose that's fate. At least I'll know I did everything I could for my home." She shook her head. "I don't want this city to become another Lothering. I couldn't protect it all those years ago." Hawke turned to him, then, and smiled. "Now, are you going to help me or are we just going to stand here?" The flames of his anger eased. How did she always manage to turn things around to such an extent? What was it about this human woman that made her the center of his world? Not like Danarius had been. No. A different center. The kind that made him want to move forward and change. Unwilling to let her off the hook so easily, however, he frowned.

"I remain at your side," the elf simply said and moved in the direction of the Keep.