A/N: My muse refuses to let me work on Out West to Kirkwall right now, and instead wanted me to do this. Sometimes you just can't argue with it. This is technically a redo of one of the very first pieces I posted on my account, "Free at Last"; I think I can do it better now and I did make one crucial mistake when writing it. Some of it will remain the same, some of it will change. I hope those of you whom liked the original, will like this version as well. All reviews and comments are appreciated, if you have a moment to leave one.

Original prompt: F!Mage!Hawke/Fenris. During Act III Meredith decides that Hawke is too great of a threat and takes action against her.

Warnings: VERY SAD PROMPT.

Disclaimer: Dragon Age II belongs to Bioware, and I make no profit from this, although I enjoy writing it regardless.

Free at Last, Little Hawke

Being a mage had never been easy. Her entire life in Lothering had been her father teaching her and her sister how to evade the templars, how to blend in, and how to protect themselves; compared to Kirkwall, Hawke was beginning to believe that Lothering had been a piece of cake. It seemed such a strange thought to have with a pissed off qunari Arishok looming over her. She had to dive out of the way as his massive sword swung out at her and she slid into one of the columns that decorated the Viscount's throne room with a groan of pain.

Perhaps it wasn't so odd after all. It was said that when you faced your impending end, you could relive moments of your life.

She stumbled to her feet to escape the downward slam of the Arishok's sword, swinging up her staff to stab the blade end into the lumbering beast of a man's eye. He howled and reared away even as blood escaped in a gush as the blade came free, causing her to lose her footing and smack back against the column once more.

Her back was screaming in pain, her limbs were trembling with exhaustion, but she knew she couldn't give up. Not only was the entire city in danger if she couldn't defeat him, but so was Isabela. There was no way she was going to allow these brutes to take her friend back to Par Vollen and convert her to the Qun. Not if she could help it.

The Arishok recovered as well as he could given his missing eye and charged her. She rolled out of the way and he slammed into the cement with a howl. His back was presented to her and saw what could very well be the last opportunity to win this; she leaped on his back and slid a dagger from inside her robes as he thrashed to get her off. He slammed her into various surfaces, but she refused to lose her hand. With a howl of her own, she took the dagger and slammed it into the side of his throat, his jugular spraying blood and causing her to slip free. He flung her into the opposite column where she slumped, coughing her own blood onto her palm.

He stumbled away from her and collapsed onto the steps ascending to the Viscount's throne, his good eye locked on her with feral vengeance. "We will return," he gurgled, mouth filling with blood. He howled once more in pain before he slumped back onto the steps where he lay, motionless.

Hawke managed to push herself to her feet even as her companions all rushed forward at once to assist her, Anders fussing over her trying to heal her. Fenris stood back but as she allowed herself to glance over in his direction, she swore she could see anxiety and fear in his eyes. It made her heart flutter. He hadn't shown any bit of concern toward her after their night together, instead opting to cut her out and forget about what had occurred between them; if only it were as easy for her.

She gave him a soft, reassuring smile even as the nobility of Hightown burst into cheers and applause. Her smile fell and died completely as Knight-Commander Meredith pushed her way through the crowd; she couldn't admit to anyone, least of all her companions, that the Knight-Commander frightened her. Meredith merely put up with her but as a mage, Hawke feared what all mages feared – the Rite of Tranquility. And as all mages, she would rather die than be forced to into what they called a 'living death'.

Hawke could see the way Meredith's eyes took in the nobles adoration of the mage and she could make out that she was barely able to tolerate it; mages were meant to be locked in the circle, Meredith was a firm believer in that. She glared at Hawke, contempt evident in what should have been pretty blue eyes. She outstretched a hand and Hawke took it, almost reluctantly.

"It seems Kirkwall has a new Champion," Meredith said.

Perhaps it was the way the words were said, filled with venom, or the way her eyes narrowed on her with intent, but Hawke was sure this would not be end of it. She may acknowledge her among the masses, but she was still just another mage in the Knight-Commander's eyes.

This was far from over, she was sure. Little did she know how right she really was.

Three years passed after that day. Meredith made no move against her and they went about their lives. Though some part of Hawke still worried of her intentions. How could she not? A mage should always be wary of a templars intent.

She sighed as she rubbed her hand across her face. There was no point in lingering on it; there were more immediate issues at hand.

She wanted to check up on Fenris after what had just happened. They'd confronted his master in The Hanged Man, who was led there by Fenris' own sister; despite her belief in avoiding unnecessary death, she had not stopped the elf from murdering his only living relative. Just as he'd been furious at her betrayal, so had she. Whoever dared to bring harm to Fenris would pay; she had never told him, but her heart had always belonged to him and she'd vowed to have his back for as long as she lived. It was a vow she'd made to herself, one she was intent on keeping, even if he never returned her feelings.

Hawke walked up the steps of the foyer toward the room where she'd always found Fenris, no matter what time of day she came calling on him; vaguely she wondered if he ever used or lived in any other part of the house.

He was pacing in front of the lit hearth, obviously angry. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, before deciding to head inside; feral or not, her worry far outweighed her apprehension of being bitten by the wolf.

He was quick to notice her, though he scowled and turned away, muttering to himself. "Festis bei umo canavarum."

"Let me guess. You're upset. Again." Hawke let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head, though she realized the words could seem a bit harsh considering.

"It means 'you will be the death of me.'" He snapped out, before turning back to face her. His eyes narrowed angrily. "Six years ago I decided to stay with you, in part because I owed you. But I also thought you could help me. And you did. Hadriana is dead. Danarius is dead. I am finally free. But none of it feels like it should." He scowled. "This freedom taste like ashes."

"You were already free, Fenris. Killing Danarius was just revenge."

"Ah, yes. Platitudes are so easy." He sighed and shook his head, letting out a long breathe to try and calm himself. "You are not responsible for my misery. Why am I angry at you?" Fenris turned from her then, walking to seat himself on the bench in front of the fire. Hawke followed and found herself sitting on the opposite bench across from where him. "I thought finding Varania would open up a whole new world, one that was lost forever. But it's gone and I can't get it back. What do I do now, Hawke?"

He looked at her hopefully; he didn't have the answer and was hoping against hoping that she had one to give him. She could see it in his eyes.

"What do you want to do?" Hawke finally asked, her voice almost as hopeful.

He chuckled softly and shook his head. "Clearly making decisions for myself isn't my best quality. Maybe it is time to leave this hatred behind. It's poison, yet I continue to swallow it. There is no one left to blame. What I have done I have done to myself." He placed his hand on his thigh with a soft shake of his head.

She swallowed; it felt as though her heart were suddenly in her throat. Her hands were trembling, so instead she placed them on her thighs and leaned forward so as to keep him from seeing how afraid she was in this moment. "You don't have to go through this alone," she finally said, her voice thick with emotion.

"Don't I? We have never discussed what happened between us three years ago." He said the words, looking away almost as if he were ashamed of what he just admitted.

"You didn't want to talk about it," she retorted.

He sighed softly, glancing back to her with pain filled eyes; not the pain filled ones she had become accustomed to. They were filled with a whole new pain, one consumed with regret and longing. "I felt like a fool," he admitted hesitantly. "I thought it better if you hated me - I deserved no less. But it isn't better." Slowly, he arose from his perch and approached her, coming to stand directly in front of her with that same look in his eyes. "That night... I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I should have asked for your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now."

She was surprised at his words, though she had waited for them for three very long years. She found that she could not say anything for a very long, uncertain moment. Her voice was thick with pain as she said, "I need to understand why you left, Fenris."

"I've thought about the answer a thousand times," he said with a smile, regretful smile." The pain, the memories it brought up... it was too much. I was a coward." Shame came across his features, before he looked away. He was silent for a moment before turning back to look at her. "If I could go back, I would stay. Tell you how I felt."

"What would you have said?" She asked, pain lessening in the face of her curiosity.

He took a deep breath to steel himself for what he needed to tell her. He had to tell her; three years without her had been torture. "Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you," he said, his voice almost as thick with emotion as her own had been a moment ago.

"I understand. I always understood." She told him with a smile, one she found was honest and genuine.

"If there is a future to be had," he began softly as he leaned down toward her so that he could lock his jade eyes with her own cerulean ones, "I will walk into it gladly at your side."

Not being able to keep herself from him any longer, Hawke rose and moved into his outstretched arms. They came together passionately, their lips melding together hotly. It had been too long and they had to have each other; they made no attempt at curbing their need and spent the evening making up for the three years they had lost.

Hawke slipped away in the early hours of the morning. The sun hadn't risen and the sky was a cool, softening gray mixed with hues of orange and pink. A beautiful sky for a beautiful day, she decided. Her body was sore, but pleasantly so, and her mind was filled with memories of the night; Fenris' lips against her neck, his whispered words in her ears, his lips against her own, his body pressed to hers as they came together like a firestorm, all flames and heat, eventually leaving them in no more than ashes. Then they'd simply laid together in the blissful aftermath of the storm.

She was far too caught up in her own happiness that she did not hear the figures approaching her; by the time she did, they were already on her, trying to restrain her. She grit her teeth, kicked out, and slipped free, rolling away to land on one knee, pulling her staff from her back. Hawke followed the thread to the Fade, gathering her mana, ready to cast, but a hand on her shoulder sucked the very breath right out of her. Her connection to the Fade severed and she shivered, cold, shock settling over her nerves as the spell faded away from her grasp.

Templars! She turned, stumbled, and tried to run, but there were too many and she was jostled from armored body to armored body, tears of frustration and anger building in her eyes. She refused to give in and fought, throwing her fists out to connect with what she could; she kicked, clawed, even bit at exposed skin. It was all for naught, for the templar nearest to her only laughed at how little damage she actually did to them without her magic.

Her last thought as that fist came flying toward her face was of Fenris.

Fenris hadn't seen Hawke for days.

It had begun to worry him; it wasn't as if they parted on unpleasant terms. Quite the opposite, really. They'd spent the night making up for the years they had missed out on due to Fenris' fear to confront the reality of his past; finally he had been freed from his cowardice, and he'd spent hours making up for his mistake. Hawke had seemed quite happy when she'd kissed him and apologized for having to leave so soon, in fact, she had promised to be back that night.

Something was wrong.

He spent the majority of the day asking of her whereabouts among their companions; most of these visits went civilly enough, but Anders had merely told him to get out of his clinic and Isabella seemed more intent on finding her way into his pants. He scowled; really, the woman was appealing, but he was beginning to become annoyed at her overly persistent advances, especially given she knew of his and Hawke's affection for each other.

He found himself standing at the door of Hawke's estate. He knocked once, then again. Bodahn answered when he would have hit the wood for a third time.

"Oh messere Fenris! I was about to come calling on you," the dwarf was saying, smiling welcomingly up at him.

"What for, if I may ask?" Fenris questioned.

"I needed to find Serah Hawke. There is a mountain of papers piling on her desk." The dwarf looked confused for a moment. "Wait. Is she not with you?"

Fenris growled. "No, she is not. I have been looking for her all day."

Bodahn looked surprised and then, slight shaken. "That is unusual of her."

"Yes. Yes it is." Fenris turned away from the man and began pacing away, before turning back to address him again. "I will go ask Carver; he is a Templar, he must know where she is, if only to protect her from Meredith and the circle."

Fenris stalked into the Gallows, his eyes frantically seeking out the recruits that were gathered there. They were spread out quite a bit, formed into small groups as they conversed among themselves. There were also mages walking about, both tranquil and not; they were prisoners, he knew, but he could not bring himself to feel sorry for them, not with the great danger they posed. He believed there to be no oppression here. They lived and he found that more of a gift that he himself would have given them.

It wasn't long before he found Carver. The young man was lounging on the wall next to Knight-Captain Cullen, watching the courtyard with what he noticed were distant eyes. Likely bored. He walked the distance separating him and Hawke's younger brother quite quickly in his haste to find out what exactly had become of Hawke.

He had to know something, Fenris thought desperately.

Carver saw the elf approaching and silently sighed to himself; it was not his place to involve himself in his sister's affairs, but not once had he approved of the relationship to the two had seemed to form. He leaned up from the wall and crossed his arms against his chest, narrowing his eyes. He found Cullen watching them curiously when the elf came to stop in front of Carver.

"Elf," Carver said in greeting; it was a civil start, for Carver.

"Carver," Fenris acknowledged him with a nod. "I need your help."

"Pray tell, what for?" Carver asked scrupulously. This couldn't be good.

"Your sister – she was supposed to meet me; I have not seen her in days. Do you know where she is?"

"My sister?" He blinked several times, confused over the elf's worried tone. "Last I heard she was traipsing about causing trouble and taking names. As usual."

"That is what I feared," the elf said.

"I believe I can answer your inquiry, elf," the Knight-Captain said after the silence that had stretched on for too long. He regarded the elf with sympathy as he uncrossed his arms. "Meredith brought her to the circle."

"What? Why?" Both Fenris and Carver said at the same time, turning to face the Knight-Captain with shock more than evident on their faces.

"Why? She is an apostate, of course. Just because she is the Champion of Kirkwall does not mean she is the exception to the laws of the Chantry. Don't worry, she is safe enough. In fact," he raised his arm and pointed toward the merchant stands that were set up in the courtyard, "she is right there, helping Solivitus."

Fenris turned his eyes to follow Cullen's directions and indeed saw that slim, elegant, red-headed woman – who'd claimed his heart and soul completely – standing just behind Solivitus with her back presented to them; he could pick her out of a crowd from any angle. Not bothering to say another word to the Knight-Captain, his anger barely restrained, he turned and made his way to where Hawke was moving about, a smile daring to show itself on his lips.

She's safe.

Solivitus saw him approaching and, for a moment, looked panicked. The mage herbalist swallowed visibly and then moved out of his stall to make his way up the steps that led to the main part of the Gallows, and rather hastily at that. Fenris frowned. He had never threatened or made any angry gestures, or even said anything much at all, to the merchant.

Why did he react that way to seeing him?

Shaking it off, he stopped in front of the stall and cleared his throat. "Hawke?"

She turned to face him and he felt the very ground drop out from beneath his feet. There, burned into her brow, was the sun brand. The very mark that broadcast to the world that a mage was Tranquil, having been put through the Rite of Tranquility and stripped of everything that makes them human; emotion, feelings, care, and of course, their magic, shutting them off forever from the Fade. They did what they were told, didn't fight back, didn't talk back; puppets in the hands of their tormentors.

"Fenris." Her voice was flat. Emotionless. There was no smile on her lips, no happy glint in her once vibrant cerulean eyes.

"Hawke? What happened?" Never in his life, that he could recall, had the pain ever been this potent, this all-consuming; not even when Danarius had bestowed upon him these lyrium brands. A single tear slipped from his eye and his hands clenched desperately at this sides, anger beginning to eat at every inch of his soul.

"How could they do this to you?" He yelled, his brands lighting up suddenly like combusted flames.

She was calm, cool, disconnected from his pain as if she didn't care. And she didn't. She couldn't. The bastards had taken that away from her. "The Knight-Commander issued an order for my arrest. They took me into custody the morning I left your house. The Knight-Commander deemed I was too much of a danger, loose in the city. She issued the command to make me Tranquil."

"I will kill her," he promised. His voice deadly with his intent.

"That is not necessary. I am not unhappy. I cannot be unhappy. I have not come to harm. The Knight-Commander only did what is required of her."

"You didn't deserve this," he choked the words out; his words were true. Never would he have wanted this for her, mage or not. She was gentle, caring, had never done anything to deserve this.

"Please go, messere. I have duties that must be done." She tried to turn away, but he reached outand gripped her arm.

"I love you Hawke." He whispered, his voice breaking as the pain squeezed his heart unmercifully.

"I cannot feel love now. Before I was made Tranquil, I knew myself to be in love with you. But I cannot feel it now and there are things I must do. Excuse me." She pulled away from him and turned back to the stall, where she had been sorting out ingredients on the wooden table top.

"The abomination whines too much. This 'Rite of Tranquility' cannot be as horrible as he makes it out to be," he mumbled as he walked beside Hawke.

Her expression was unreadable as she turned her blue gaze on him. "It's like dying, Fenris. Magic is a part of who we are. Who I am. The Rite of Tranquility, it severs you completely from the Fade and takes it all away from you."

He cocked a brow. "Isn't that a good solution for the dangers some mages pose?"

She smiled, almost sadly. "The Fade is a part of us all. When we dream, we walk the Fade. When we are forever severed from it...it takes away what makes us human. Emotions, dreams, wants; it's all gone. I could not live like that. I would rather die than be made Tranquil."

"You would rather die? Even as a Tranquil, you could still live," he pressed, incredulous of her words.

"It isn't living, Fenris. Not when you cannot love." She smiled and touched his shoulder, before walking past him.

Her words echoed in his mind as he looked at her back, his breathing harsh and uneven. She had told him she would rather die than end up like this, but he couldn't do that to her, could he? What if there was a way to reverse it? No, there couldn't be; if there was a way to reverse it, the fear the mages felt wouldn't be so utterly desperate.

He'd never felt his heart tear in two. Never could he remember a pain as horrible as this. This wasn't Hawke. Hawke had died the moment they'd branded that mark into her lovely skin. Angry tears rolled down his cheeks as he took a step toward her.

"Fenris," she sighed his name and nuzzled her nose against his neck. Her hand roamed across his chest before laying directly over his beating heart. "I love you. I never stopped loving you, in all these years."

He smiled and pressed a kiss into her beautiful, fiery hair. "I was a fool to keep myself from you for so long. I have always been in love with you, my little Hawke."

"Little?" she chuckled and nipped his skin.

He shivered and pulled her closer, pressing the length of her naked flesh to his own. "Little, and mine."

"Mmm. Fenris? Promise me something?"

"Anything. I am yours."

"You remember when I told you about the Tranquil?"

He frowned, apprehensive. "Of course."

"If that should ever happen to me I want you to kill me."

He pulled himself back from her, holding her chin in his thumb and index finger, eyes staring down into her own intently. "That will never happen to you. I promise."

"But if it should - "

"No, Hawke."

"If it should," she interrupted again, stubbornly, eyes moving over his face, "I want you to promise. I cannot be with you if you cannot promise this to me."

After an agonizingly long moment of indecision, he finally muttered, "I promise," because he didn't think it would even be something to actually worry about. Hawke was Hawke, she did the impossible.

"Maker forgive me, Hawke, I couldn't protect you. But I will now, I swore to you I would never let you live like this." He groaned the words out, the words themselves almost as painful as the sight of her like this.

She's not alive, not anymore. She told me that. She isn't Hawke. This is just her shell, he desperately tried to rationalize what he had to do, but it didn't lessen the pain.

She turned to face him and cocked her head. "I was ignorant then, there is no need for you to fulfill such a promise."

She gasped with pain as Fenris' lyrium infused hand found itself in her chest. The pain, he knew, unimaginable and her eyes locked onto his face, wide.

"Forgive me, Hawke. I love you." Fenris growled out the words, each one holding every ounce of affection, and love, he had for her. His hand was on her heart, he could feel it beating inside of his fist; his eyes searched her face desperately, looking for any sign of the Hawke he knew and loved. When he saw nothing but that cold expression, those dead eyes, and that sun brand – he couldn't tear his eyes from it, it was taunting him with its meaning – he knew what he had to do.

"I swear to you, I will kill them all," he whispered with deadly intent lit in his eyes.

His fist closed and the heart beating within his fingers gave way easily enough, leaving the organ as nothing more than a useless mass in his hand. Hawke's eyes went even more wide and she cried out silently, gasping, wheezing, before she finally just fell to the ground. Her eyes slowly shut and her body – her beautiful body that was imprinted on every part of him – ceased to move at all.

"You're free now, my little Hawke," he whispered, broken.

He stared down at her for a long time, even as the courtyard around him exploded into an uproar. There was chaos all around him, but he was deadly still – he was dying right along with her, in reality. As he heard Cullen's voice barking to the templars to surround him, Fenris turned and found the man with cold and deadly eyes filled with nothing other than blood lust. His gauntlet-clad hands pulled the great sword from his back and he lowered his head, steeling himself. They would pay, he would make certain of that. They would all pay; every – last – one – of – them.

"Come if you wish – I will kill you, just as you killed her." He roared the words and burst into movement. Blood flew in every direction and screams filled the courtyard. The only one he left standing was Carver, who had not even raised his weapon against him.

Fenris, bathed in blood, stood still in front of him. He narrowed his eyes on the brother of his love, the love that had been torn away from him. Hawke had been right all along; not all mages deserved this. His blind hatred of her kind had led him to believe that Tranquility was the better option as opposed to letting mages free, but he had been wrong. There were good mages out there, mages like her, but there would never be another like her. Not to him.

"I didn't know," Carver said, his voice cracking. "I would have stopped them had I known."

"I know," Fenris whispered. "Help me kill them. I will kill them all. Meredith will pay for what she's done."

"For my sister." Carver nodded and took his own great broadsword from his back.

"For Hawke."

He buried her in Ferelden. Took her back to Lothering, even though the land was still scarred and forever changed by the darkspawn. He knew she would have wanted this. He and Carver both knew she'd missed her home and it seemed right. He ached to join her, but knew she would never forgive him should he throw his life away. Every day he brought flowers, the color of her hair, vibrant orange with a hint of dark red, and laid them on her grave as he spoke with her.

As the years passed the ground around where she was buried began to regain fertility and slowly, blades of grass peaked through the once scarred soil.

On the tenth anniversary of her death, the very same flower he brought her bloomed over her grave and he stared at it with wonder, the pads of his fingers caressing the silky petals.

He smiled, the first real smile since he'd lost her.

Even now, she did the impossible.