Disclaimer: Not mine

A/N: Fenris/MHawke I'm still playing with the male/mage/extremely religious and pro-templar Hawke. Of all the Hawke's I created, this is the one I like most. Specially cause when I sided with the templars with him it didn't feel right for him and I ended reloading and siding with the mages. Tell me what you think and if there are any mistakes feel free to tell me so I can fix them. Enjoy!

Down in Flames

Dawn was a beautiful thing to watch on the coast. The light of the sun driving away the darkness of night, a welcomed sight to a weary soul. They left behind a burning city, but the memories lingered. The smoke that choked and blinded. The fire and ice that burned the flesh and consumed the bodies. The smell of death, blood, demons and magic. And all around them, from Darktown to Hightown, the cries of the people. The scared, the enraged and the dying.

Dare Hawke stared at the dawn with unseeing eyes. Right hand holding tightly the hand of the elf beside him. There was silence around them as their friends used the time to rest before Isabela came for them.

"I'm sorry," the human finally spoke, but the tone was flat and emotionless.

The elf said nothing, but he squeezed the hand that trapped his.

"She was… I couldn't… Maker, I could've stopped it."

The wind blew from the sea, bringing with it the scent of salt. A welcomed change from the burning smell of smoke and charred flesh that clung to their nostrils.

"Can you read minds?" the elf broke the long silence, "You did not know what the abomination would do with the ingredients. He deceived you. Used your kindness against you and the little amount of trust you had in him."

"And when he confessed there was no potion I did nothing. I knew and I did nothing," he looked at the elf for the first time since they made camp, gray eyes bright with unshed tears, "This is all my fault. The Grand Cleric, Orsino, Meredith… Their deaths are on my hands. Look where I dragged you all! I destroyed your lives. I destroyed your home. It was all me and this cursed magic I was born with."

Fenris didn't think he was the best person to discuss problems related to magic. He would whole heartedly agree with any other mage and it surprised him that he thought Hawke was wrong. The mage was strong, too strong perhaps, and the tragedies that shaped his life had not been caused by him. He could've been born with no magic in his blood, like his brother, and Fenris could not see how that would've changed things.

"I… cannot speak for the others," he began, wrestling his hand free and very carefully wiping a tear from the human's face, "but my home is where you are."

Fenris inched his face closer, green staring intently into gray, "My place is at your side, Dare."

The kiss was deep, but short. It held both the sweetness of love and forgiveness and the bitterness of hurt and loss.

Dare gave him a smile, too brief and not as bright, but the elf felt reassured the night's events had not shattered the human completely.

"I remember standing at the Gallows while you told the Knight-Captain that Anders was going to do something against the Chantry," Fenris continued, now confident that Hawke was listening, "He told us the Knight-Commander was going to do something about it. You did all you could at the time. You are not a templar to be doing their job, just as you were not a guardsman three years ago."

Hawke tensed at the reminder of his mother's death and Fenris feared he had gone too far. Specially when the First Enchanter, the man they sided with, had brought the whole thing back when he admitted to have known about Leandra's murderer and done nothing. He was certainly not one for comfort, but he was trying the best he could. He would not lie to the man. If Hawke wanted bullshit, he could always go to Varric or Isabela for that.

Silence. The sound of the waves, that didn't quite manage to soothe either of them. The salt in the air. The cry of the gulls. But silence between them. Not comfortable, but not uncomfortable either. Just silence.

"You better rest. You won't be any good if the templars find us and you're too tired."

The human was staring again at the sea and Fenris thought of reminding him he hadn't slept either, but thought better of it. He knew Hawke would not rest until everyone was standing on Isabela's ship with Kirkwall far behind them. Right now he was too tired to try and convince Hawke into waking one of the others and rest with him. He would try later, he decided, getting up after giving the human a chaste kiss.

The elf scanned the camp, scowling at the sight of the abomination resting peacefully amongst them. He'd wanted to ask Hawke why was the mage still alive, but every time he was going to, his voice would not cooperate. Not when he feared the man would take it to mean he was blaming him for what happened. He strode towards his bedroll, while deciding to try asking again later. Perhaps after Hawke rested and was as far away from Kirkwall and the templars as possible.

The armor was uncomfortable to sleep in. His body was probably going to ache even more because of it, but Fenris was no stranger to pain. He turned, eyes settling in the form of the man he loved. At least this time, the pain would be worth it. His last, slightly perverse thought, the idea that Aveline, Donnic and Carver would hurt even more than he with that armor of theirs.

Hawke knew when Fenris finally went to sleep. To know that much about the elf sent a little thrill through him. To know that the elf had set aside his past experiences, the only thing he remembered with clarity, just because he was in love made him love the elf even more. He didn't know how much he expected the elf to leave again until he stared into the Knight-Commander's eyes and sided with the mages.

"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter."

Her words haunted him. He'd done everything that was expected of him. He had helped everyone that had needed it. He never accepted gold from the ones that had little. He spent his nights fighting the gangs that the guardsmen were too busy to keep under control. He'd risked his own freedom to keep the Qunari from invading. He knew the Circle was necessary and had sent every mage worth saving to the Gallows. He dedicated his life to serve. Why had he faltered?

The answer was easy, but hard to swallow. What he'd seen in her eyes had horrified him. Satisfaction. He had warned her, but she had been expecting it. Perhaps not the death of the Grand Cleric, but like Petrice, she needed a death to prove the need for the Rite of Annulment. It was ironic how Anders and Meredith had played with each other and done exactly what the other wanted. If only it hadn't gone out of hand so quickly…

Because Meredith had used Anders to kill every mage in the Circle. He knew that if they had wanted to execute Anders, he would've gladly helped them. Even if it made the mage a martyr, as he suspected the man had wanted. But she had used an act perpetrated by a mage that had never lived in the Gallows and was part of no Circle to kill the ones that were a part of it. The ones that had been innocent. Men and women that he had sent there. The children. He couldn't allow that to happen.

But what scared him the most was the knowledge that he also did it because he didn't want to die. He'd stared into the icy blue eyes of the Knight-Commander and he'd seen his death even before he chose a side. Selfishness had tipped the balance on his decision. Selfishness had destroyed his home and his friends' lives.

The silence was broken as someone shifted and a pained groan followed. Sebastian had awoken. The prince was probably confused, having left the group before the madness began only to wake up with them again. But Hawke couldn't leave the man to die when they found his injured body lying in the street close to death. Better living and hating him than dead, or at least that's what Hawke believed.

"Those who wrong the House of the Maker have wronged the Maker himself. Foul and corrupt are you who have taken My gift and turned it against My children," the pain turned the accent in his voice thicker, but not difficult to understand.

Hawke felt the ache in his chest grow and he hung his head in shame.

"I know that. Maker, I know that. But they were going to kill people that had nothing to do with… what happened in the Chantry."

Silence again. Hawke was beginning to hate this silence. The whole world was making music around him, but his friends had never been silent. Until now.

"I didn't leave because you supported the mages. I left because he is still alive. You allowed his crime to go unpunished."

For the first time in hours, Hawke stood. His limbs ached and the lack of rest after battling all night had drained almost all his mana. He didn't dare to look into the archer's eyes afraid of finding disgust and hate where once was friendship and acceptance. He steeled himself as he made his way to the injured man. He needed to check on him and see how the healing had gone. When found, Dare had used his last reserves to heal the man, but he'd been so drained it had not been enough. Healing potions could only do so much and Hawke didn't trust Anders anymore.

He could feel those piercing blue eyes analyzing him, but he didn't look up. Magic had caused his wife to kill herself and their child. Magic had killed his mother. Magic had enslaved, tortured and robbed the life of his lover. He'd hated the curse on his veins. He'd despised it. Despaired. Being a mage was hard and painful, sometimes heartbreakingly so, but this was the first time he felt ashamed of what he was. That he regretted ever being born. He checked the archer slowly, hesitantly. As if waiting for the man to recoil from his touch every time.

"Will you say nothing to defend yourself?"

Hawke halted. With a heavy swallow, he cast his gray eyes towards the prince's face and found nothing. Just a blank face demanding an explanation. Better than open hate.

"Killing him will not bring the Grand Cleric back to life," Hawke began, eyes straying to the sleeping healer for a second before quickly going back to Sebastian's face, "And I refuse to be his pawn in this game."

Sebastian laughed. It was low and bitter and made Hawke feel sick.

"It was not his name the mages used as a rallying cry. It was not the healer in Darktown that inspired them, but the Champion. You were, and still are, his pawn, Hawke."

The silence enveloped them and Hawke felt a scream rising inside him and dying in his throat. That damnable silence was like a hole that sucked what little hope he still retained. The mage finished his check up, satisfied that the healing magic had done more than he previously thought. Scars and the pain from fast healed muscles, bones and skin, the only reminder of the wounds. Sebastian would be up and about in a few hours and by tomorrow no one would suspect the archer had been more dead than alive.

"Do you honestly think I approve of what he did?," the words spilled from his mouth, filled with the self hatred and disgust that had been bubbling through the night, "It's bad enough that Anders has deluded himself into thinking that I will help him in this mad cause of his. If I didn't kill him it was because I refuse to give him the easy way out of all this madness. I won't make him some glorified martyr instead of the murdering abomination he is. Elthina deserves to be remembered as the wonderful woman that spent her entire life pacifying templars and mages. The woman whose faith didn't falter when the people left the chantry to join the Qun and the ones she thought as faithful used her name and influence to incite rebellion. I won't have Anders change that by becoming some sort of mage hero in death while casting her as the villain!"

His voice had become louder and louder as he spoke. Only exhaustion kept most of the group asleep, but Carver, Aveline and Donnic had woken suddenly and were staring silently at Hawke. The mage in question only stared at Sebastian, vaguely noticing the tears that had escaped yet again. He had no right to cry when Kirkwall had burned because of him.

"Regret is something I know well. Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poisons your soul. When the time comes for your regrets, remember me," the witch's words came to his mind as if he'd just heard them. The way she later offered her sympathies… Had she truly known this day would come?

Sebastian knew his worst flaw was always the way he threw everything in him to whatever cause he was following at the time. Grand Cleric Elthina had voiced her displeasure of it many times, especially after he forsook his vows only to take them again when his vengeance was done. He had vowed to make Hawke pay for supporting Anders' actions, but he hadn't the time to think. He hadn't wanted to.

But he'd known death when the madness finally overtook Kirkwall. Mages, templars and civilians attacked anything that moved, including their own side. He was good with his bow, but with no one to keep the enemies away from him, he was hard pressed to keep moving instead of fighting. The blow had come from the back. His armor had protected him, but the distraction had cost him. Sword on his thigh, crunching pain on his chest as something slammed into him, searing cold on his gut, and taste of blood – his own – on his lips. Those were his last memories before darkness took him over. The knowledge that no one would heal him had prepared him for his meeting with the Maker. Or it should've prepared him, but it didn't.

Regret… Over his broken vows, over his misspent youth, over his lost family, the friendship lost and the brevity of his own life. Relief, when he opened his eyes and found the sky over his head, the earth under his body and the pain of being alive. He owed Hawke this second chance at life and for that he'd been willing to hear. Now that he heard, he wished he'd never left the man's side.

The mage had always been loyal, painfully so, and when he needed the support he'd left the man without hearing the reason for his decision. He'd accused Meredith of going overboard for ordering the death of every mage when the man responsible was in front of them. He'd been just as bad for blaming Hawke for Anders' actions. Elthina would be so disappointed in him…

"I should thank you for saving me, Hawke," Sebastian began, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat to force the apology he knew needed to be said, "I… hope you can forgive me for…"

Hawke's hand settled on his shoulder. Gray eyes still shimmering with the tears that needed to be spilled, but the man would not allow. Friendship, weary but steadfast, was easy to recognize and it made Sebastian feel ashamed over how quickly he'd set his aside.

"There's nothing to forgive, Sebastian. You wouldn't be yourself if you had done otherwise. I should be the one asking forgiveness. If I had been stronger maybe…"

"It was not you who should've been strong, my friend. Not everything is the responsibility of the Champion. This one lies on the shoulders of one that faltered long ago. Forgive me for laying the blame at your feet when the one responsible was standing before me. The threats I said in anger shouldn't have been to you."

The silence was broken. Around him, Carver was pointedly cleaning his sword. Donnic was doing the same with his armor. Aveline was preparing breakfast. Merrill was rising from her bedroll and Varric was fussing over Bianca. Anders was sitting on the same place Hawke had been before, just staring at the sea. Poor Orana was forced to endure camping for the first time since they met her. The elf girl was silent and jumpy, but had mustered the initiative to help Aveline with a timid apology for sleeping in.

"Do you really believe Anders wanted to be killed?" Sebastian asked, while staring at Anders' back.

"He justified himself quite nicely. Even apologized and said he was ready to face the consequences, but at least Justice would be free," Hawke shrugged, "It seems to me he was expecting death, so I'm pretty sure he planned on it. I stopped it from happening and, honestly, do not want to think about all this anymore."

Hawke looked tired, fragile and hollow and it worried the prince. What can you say when a tragedy of this magnitude stares at you in the face? When you survive, because you fought and killed, while many people you knew were lost? What can you say when all you work to attain burns in flames caused by one you allowed in and gave your trust? When betrayal answers the loyalty given?

The prince forced his pained body into a kneeling position, despite Hawke's protestations. Sebastian's hands held Hawke's tightly. The mage jumped in surprise and tried to break free, throwing a worried look towards his sleeping lover. Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle and hold his hands tighter.

"Relax, Hawke, just close your eyes, breathe deep and repeat after me," Sebastian said gently, before doing the same too.

With eyes closed, he waited until he heard Hawke's shaky exhale before speaking the familiar words.

"O Maker, hear my cry: guide me through the blackest nights, steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked, make me to rest in the warmest places."

Hawke repeated the words of the prayer almost fervently. The sound of someone approaching and kneeling beside them reached him, but Sebastian did not open his eyes to see.

"O Creator, see me kneel. For I walk only where You would bid me. Stand only in places You have blessed. Sing only the words You place in my throat."

Carver's voice joined his brother's as they repeated the words. Aveline telling Merrill to not interrupt them. Varric asking if breakfast was done. Sebastian knew none of group was fond of his devotion, so it didn't surprise him that no one else joined them.

"My Maker, know my heart. Take from me a life of sorrow. Lift me from a world of pain. Judge me worthy of Your endless pride. "

And as they spoke the words, he felt at peace and hoped the words would bring the same comfort to the mage.

"My Creator, judge whole. Find me well within Your grace. Touch me with fire that I be cleansed. Tell me I have sung to Your approval."

He felt his strength returning and the pain fading. He heard Hawke's voice going from that out of character brittle tone to his usual strong one.

"O Maker, hear my cry. Seat me by Your side in death. Make me one within Your glory and let the world once more see Your favor."

Felt the strength in the hands he clasped returning. Heard the devotion in his friend's voice and in his brother's. Tragedy had struck and they had left Kirkwall stronger and more united than before.

"For You are the fire at the heart of the world and comfort is only Yours to give."

When the prayer was finished, both Hawkes helped him to his feet and the group had their breakfast. They talked, joked and were ever vigilant of templars and the sea. They weren't unaffected, but they were willing to move on.

"It is only when you fall that you learn wether you can fly."

As long as Hawke stood tall, Sebastian knew none of them would crumble.

Chant of Light Verses used: Benedictions 4:10; Transfigurations 12:1-12:6, 18:10, verse used by the chanter in front of the Chanter's Board when you take Sebastian's quest.

Flemmeth's quotes also used.