Act 1

"Damn that boy! Damn him to Oblivion!" Hawke swore as their little party surreptitiously moved through the precarious realm of dreams and death, also known as the Fade.

Fenris raised his brow at Hawke's sudden and unexpected outburst. Garrett Hawke might be loud, vulgar, and expressive, but he was also relaxed, humorous, and seemingly unconscious of the perpetual danger he always got involved in. However, Hawke seemed very nervous and anxious about their current mission. Fenris couldn't blame him, much as he disliked agreeing with a mage. The Black City was even more disturbing than the lore about it claimed. The sky above was not a swirl of grey-green clouds, like normally hung above the Fade, but instead were a colorful blend of magentas, purples, a bit of gold, and black. Flecks of strange, square-like, black matter floated about, not differentiating between falling or rising. The buildings raised upon the floating islands were unlike anything Fenris had seen before, as they were angular and constructed with blocks of stone that fit seamlessly together. Over their black exterior was the occasional collection of alien symbols, painted in a strange, glowing paint. Rivers of the black matter cascaded over the edge of the buildings, falling into the abyss below. What lay down there, Fenris couldn't even begin to guess.

The strangest thing by far, though, was the people. There shouldn't have been people in the Black City, according to what the Chantry said. But, yet, there were beings, if not people, staring helplessly at the largest of the constructs, their glowing red eyes locked upon its surface in anticipation. Anticipation for what worried Fenris as he stared at one as they passed it. They were strange beings indeed, Fenris noticed as they passed one, with black and white and grey-blue markings covering its skin. It was not a demon, nor a spirit, but something else. And it was alive, and should have been moving. But, it wasn't. Something was wrong.

The "boy" that Hawke had referred to was their target, the boy Feynriel. Keeper Marethari had pleaded with Hawke to fetch the half-human, half-elf mage from the Fade, which he had gotten lost in. Unfortunately, Feynriel was more than just a mage. When they had first had to rescue Feynriel from the hands of slave traders, Marethari had declared him a somniari. Fenris knew of the term from his bondage in the Tevinter Imperium: they were highly prized and feared because a somniari could consciously travel the Fade and physically interact with it, unlike normal mages. They could even use the Fade to enter people's minds and influence their dreams, or even kill that person. Instead, Feynriel had decided to use his gift to "explore" the Fade and do rather stupid things, such as enter the forbidden Black City, the center of the Fade and supposed source of ultimate corruption.

Damn that boy indeed, Fenris agreed with his mage leader for a second time that day.

"Oh, what would Sebastian say if he knew we were in the Black City?" the abomination Anders wondered smugly.

"He wouldn't say anything," Fenris responded. "He would just put an arrow through your knee, if not your head."

"Well, that's not very nice," Merrill pouted from the back of the group, crossing her arms. "It's not like we're doing anything bad…"

Hawke guffawed. "Bad? No one has set foot in this place for millennia! And for good reason! The sooner we find Feynriel, the sooner we can get the hell out of here! I don't want to be a magnet for the Chantry, or, for that matter, demons!"

Fenris hadn't thought about the Chantry. If the Chantry knew that they had set foot on one of the holiest places in the Chant of Light, the supposed home of the Maker, they would never be allowed to see daylight again. The four of them would spend eternity being interrogated about the Black City and how they got to it in the first place. Which, Fenris admitted, he wasn't quite sure of himself. Marethari had merely laid them down in her cots, and then brought out some strange symbol from around her neck, spoke some words to it, and, when the symbol began to glow, they had magically appeared in the Black City itself. He squinted his eyes shut for a moment, trying to recall what the symbol was. The image of it flashed in his head, an image of a gold triangle divided into three smaller ones. It was not a symbol he was familiar with, but somehow it was magical. Bah, magic. The cursed thing.

Hawke led the party up a ramp that led to the large central complex. The elf stared up at it, taking in its massive structure. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn it was a palace of some sort. He could feel the magic radiating dimly off of Feynriel from deep within the place, one of his lyrium-tattoo tricks that only worked in the Fade, and with a nod from him, Hawke continued his course. That was why Hawke had brought him along; his unique abilities concerning the use of magic made him, sadly, indispensable to the black-haired mage. And sadly, Fenris needed Hawke's help in taking revenge upon his former master, the Tevinter Magistrate Danarius.

Of course, upon their entry into the palace, as Fenris decided from the high-vaulted ceilings and glowing tapestries, demons sprouted from their hiding spots in the floor. Hawke, Anders, and Merrill all reached for their staves and began firing bolts of magic at the demons. Some froze, some turned to stone, others were hurled back or burst into flame as the mages used their mana to defeat their attackers. Meanwhile, Fenris used the only thing he ever needed, his sword. He pulled out his large, two-handed blade that was almost as tall as he was and gripped it tightly. With a roar, he lunged at the nearest demon, his lyrium tattoos glowing blue as he swung his blade through the ethereal being and dissolving it into smoke. He dashed over to the next, briefly meeting its evil, glowing eyes before also defeating it. As he moved between demons, he would plunge his blade into one that had been turned to stone or ice, crumbling it into pieces. Soon enough, with their combined efforts, the demons were driven off. Something, however, still seemed wrong. Demons usually were not defeated that easily, or that quickly. Perturbed, Fenris wiped the sweat off his brow, and the party continued their search for the somniari.

After several more battles with demons that seemed substantially weaker than usual, they came to a set of large bedroom doors intricately painted with the same glowing paint. The magical signature of Feynriel blazed brightly behind the doors. Hawke looked questioningly at Fenris, and he nodded his white-haired head in silent acknowledgement that this was it. Hawke took a deep breath, his barrel chest rising and falling heavily, before pushing open the doors with his thick, muscular arms. Within, Feynriel jumped up in surprise, his form outlined by the purple clouds beyond that appeared from the open balcony. Black drapes with glowing blue patterns billowed slightly in the still air. The only light in the room came from that open balcony, but it was enough to make out the somniari's features. He was, indeed, shocked that they had found him.

"Feynriel," Hawke breathed a sigh of relief, then shook his head in patronizing concern. "Thank the Maker that you're—"

Hawke stopped.

Anders and Merrill looked at Hawke in concern before following his gaze. But Fenris had already seen it, and his eyes were firmly locked where Hawke was looking.

"Maker," Anders breathed.

"Mythal," Merrill whispered right after Anders.

"What," Fenris stated simply.

A figure was laid out on a bed between Feynriel and the party. The figure was obviously female, with large breasts and hands folded over her stomach. She was abnormally tall, about as tall as Fenris, if not taller. Her long hair was orange, and rested over her chest, which her black robes were loosely clasped over, with a hood extending in a triangle from the top of her head like a headdress or crown. Though her skin was blue-grey in the fading light, her beauty was unmistakable. It froze them all in place, captivating them like some strange magic or desire demon. But she was no demon. Fenris could tell that much by looking at her peaceful face, with its slanted eyebrows and eyes, its full lips, and strong, thin nose. A powerful feeling rolled over Fenris, almost forcing him to his knees. The sensation left him breathless, and his heart ached painfully in his chest, which felt about to burst.

"—okay…" Hawke finished frailly. He, too, was captivated by her. Hawke, who was in love with Anders, even if they did try to hide it. Hawke, who wasn't interested in women, and never would be.

It must be magic, Fenris decided with a renewed sense of animosity towards that foul power, but the thought quickly slipped away from him as he continued staring at her dumbly.

Finally, Hawke slowly lumbered over to her bedside and sunk to his knees beside her. Anders soon followed him, but instead of falling to the ground, he put a hand on Hawke's shoulder and gazed at her form in awe.

"Who is she?" Fenris asked, finally gathering up the strength to move just as Merrill followed the other two.

"I don't know," the somniari shook his head as he looked back down at the alien woman. "I found her here, like this."

Anders extended a hand, and a wave of magical energy burst forth. Fenris started lunging for his hand instinctually, to protect her, but stopped himself. Anders was scanning her.

The abomination pursed his lips. "She's injured, and gravely," Anders announced to no one in particular. "She's going to die soon."

Everyone tore their gaze away from her to Anders and his feathery shoulders. "What?" Hawke asked, perplexed.

Anders knelt down and put his fingers gently against her forehead, his eyes glowing slightly from the lurking spirit of Justice within him. "She's injured. I've seen this injury before, in Amaranthine."

"Can you heal her?" Feynriel asked eagerly.

Strangely, Fenris felt desperate, silently and fervently wishing that Anders would say yes. His brows knitted together as he puzzled over this sensation before firmly quelling it. What was this girl to him? She was probably a demon, or at least a mage, and she most likely had something to do with the corruption here in the Black City. It would probably be best if this girl did die.

And yet.

"I can," he said shakily, "perhaps. I've seen this before. But not here. I feel…weak here."

"What if she's a demon?" Fenris suggested. "Maybe we should just leave her here."

The party looked at him in abject horror, stupefied that he would suggest such a thing. Anders' eyes began glowing more intensely as his anger awoke Justice, and Hawke's burning brown eyes borrowed deep into the elf.

Without looking away from Fenris, Anders shot a pulse of magic at the girl. She remained motionless and peaceful. "Satisfied?" the mage asked. "Even gravely wounded like her, a demon would have reacted to defend itself from that."

In a flash, Hawke's attitude changed from anger to curiosity. "Wait… That's interesting…" he muttered. "Feynriel, have any demons tried to possess you?"

Feynriel looked at Hawke in confusion, even though the possibility that Feynriel could be possessed had been one of Marethari's main concerns when sending them into the Fade. "No…" he answered hesitantly.

Hawke stroked his goatee ponderously before continuing, "Since Anders hasn't been possessed by Justice, like he usually is in the Fade, and the demons that attacked us were surprisingly weak, I theorize that whatever corruption is here actually decreases the power of demons and spirits, maybe even lyrium itself. Interesting…"

"Hawke," Anders interrupted him sternly. "This isn't the time."

"Right." The mage turned his attention back to the prone woman. "We need to do something, and quickly. Is there any way to take her out of the Fade?"

Feynriel shook his head. "We can't. We are ethereal here, but she's…she's a physical being, not a spirit or demon. I don't know if she can even survive outside of the Fade."

"But what about…" Anders began pouring out suggestion after suggestion, as Hawke, Merrill, and Feynriel debated what could be done. They spent minutes debating one solution before deciding that its risks and shortcomings were too impractical for use. Then, Anders would throw out yet another ludicrous suggestion, which they would have to examine from all angles just to decide that it wouldn't work. Fenris stood behind them, his arms crossed and his brow knitted in annoyance. Mages.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity listening to the mages bicker, Fenris decided he had had enough. Swearing by Andraste, he strode resolutely over to the woman, scooped her limp, light form up in his arms, and concentrated his anger into his lyrium tattoos. His skin alit with blue fire as the lyrium was activated, startling the mages around him. He gave a cool look at Hawke as his body started becoming incorporeal, part of the process of returning to the physical world of Thedas. Her physical form also started becoming ethereal and insubstantial. Then, in the next instant, Fenris could feel his consciousness being sucked back into his body, and he awoke on the cot in the Kirkwall Alienage, with Marethari gaping at him and the girl lying in his still-glowing arms.

Keeper Marethari, a kindly old elf and unfortunately a mage, rushed over to his side to examine the strange girl in his arms, pressed against his chest. He hadn't realized before how curvy she was, how perfectly proportioned every part of her was, how silky her flaming orange hair was, how…

He tore his gaze away from her hypnotic form, cutting his thoughts off before he lost his reason. But not before he saw that her outline had become blurry by a fraction, like a shadowy cloak. The sooner this strange event was over, he decided, the better.

Then, the sensation of agitation that had driven him to use his powers to take the woman out of the Fade faded, leaving him somewhat perplexed. Why had he done such an uncharacteristic thing? Though he may have been annoyed at the futile bickering of his sinful mage companions, a part of him had wanted to leave her. A very large part of him. So what in Thedas had possessed him to save her? Or rather, what in the Fade? Or had it been that small part of him that hoped beyond hope that somehow, she was different?

Moments later, Hawke regained consciousness, followed by the others. Hawke sat up and glared furiously at Fenris, who glared back out of habit.

"You didn't tell me you could take things out of the Fade," the black-haired mage accused him.

"You never asked," Fenris responded venomously. "Danarius used to have me fetch things for him for his experiments. I figured a person would be no different."

Hawke nodded in interest as Anders rushed over and plucked the girl out of Fenris' arms. He carried her back to his cot and laid her down gingerly, with Marethari in tow, both looking at her in concern.

Marethari ran her fingers over the girl's face familiarly, and examined the small circlet that hung over her brow before sighing. Shaking her head, Marethari uttered, "I had hoped this wouldn't happen."

Everyone else looked at her in surprise, and Feynriel asked the obvious, "What do you mean?"

The Keeper pursed her lips. "Merrill, girl, do you remember the tales I taught you about the history of our homeland, Elvhenan?"

"Bits and pieces," Merrill responded slightly bitterly. "Why?"

"Do you remember the tale I told you about the Great Hero?"

Merrill paled suddenly. "She was his Shadow?"

Marethari nodded solemnly, causing Merrill to reel back. "She should be dead! A few thousand years dead!"

"Indeed," Marethari mumbled, turning her gaze back to the girl. "Dead. There are some things I did not tell you, my First."

Marethari pulled a shard of the rare orange lyrium out, the same kind that the cursed lyrium idol had been, attached to a thong that hung from her neck. Everyone's eyes were drawn to its glowing surface. And, with a sudden burst of speed, Marethari rammed the shard into the woman's chest. Fenris jumped to his feet, and Hawke almost lunged at the old elf. Anders flickered blue momentarily as Justice reared his ugly head, and Merrill gasped. Feynriel sank to the cot again in shock. The girl, meanwhile, began to convulse. Her back arched in spasms, and the hole that Marethari had created with the embedded shard began filling with a dark substance.

"Darkspawn blood," Anders gasped, reinforcing what everyone was thinking. "It is as I feared."

"Not darkspawn blood," Marethari corrected him. "Corruption, from whatever poisoned the Fade and the Black City. She will be fine soon, the poison in her body just needed to be drawn out."

For a brief moment, the girl's eyes flashed open violently, staring at nothing but piercing everything. Her eyes were not red, but a fiery orange and yellow, with the very inner circle of her iris being the blood red of the people they had found in the Black City. Fenris found that he could not tear his gaze away from those hypnotic eyes. Those eyes were even more powerful than her appearance, and far more captivating. The fire burning in them spoke of pain, a pain Fenris recognized.

After a minute, all the corruption in her body had been drawn out into that cavity, and her spasms stopped. She fell back onto the cot, and her eyes closed, leaving Fenris feeling displaced and hollow. For a moment, he forgot where he was.

Fenris was getting the strange impression that his emotions were no longer his own.

With delicate hands, Marethari whispered a strange incantation, and the dark clot ripped itself out of her chest. Immediately, Anders set to work repairing the hole the Keeper had rent in her chest. Marethari, meanwhile, held the clot up to her eye and examined the darkness with a keen, elfish eye. Without a word, she pulled a vial from one of her many pockets scattered about her robes and unceremoniously dropped the bloody clot into the vial and sealed it both physically and magically.

"Leave the lyrium in her," she instructed Anders. "She will need it to remain in this world."

Fenris looked back at the girl and noticed that, indeed, her outline had solidified, and she no longer looked as if she was about to fade into smoke. Anders, though thoroughly confused by Marethari's strange instructions, complied by her wishes and sealed the lyrium shard inside the girl.

Now that the girl had been seen to, Hawke and Marethari turned their attention to Feynriel as Anders finished bandaging her. The somniari wilted as they looked at him, even though their looks were more of concern than accusation.

"I'm dangerous, aren't I?" the boy asked. "I mean, before I entered the Black City, the people I saw— they were demons, weren't they?"

With a pained look at the Keeper, Hawke nodded. "Yes, they were demons. They were trying to possess you."

Feynriel gazed at the ground in understanding. "I guess…I guess I need to find out more about myself, don't I? What my powers are, what I can do to protect myself…"

"Very little, I would imagine," Fenris grumbled. Hawke shot him a nasty glare, which the elf ignored with practiced apathy.

Feynriel looked up at the aging elf. "What do you suggest, Keeper?"

"Hmm…" she folded her arms. "I do not have the resources nor the expertise to train you, but…" she dared a glance at Fenris, his back towards the group now, before continuing, "I would imagine there have to be some documents in the Tevinter Imperium that can help you."

Feynriel stood up and stroked his chin. "That does sound promising. And you, Sera Hawke?"

"From what I've heard of the Tevinter Imperium," Hawke said carefully, "it sounds like they could definitely help you. I say go."

Feynriel twisted his arm across his chest and bowed deeply to Hawke. "Thank you for all you've done for me, Sera Hawke. I'm sure I wouldn't be alive right now, if it weren't for you."

"Don't mention it," Hawke waved it off, slightly uncomfortable.

Feynriel departed to let his mother know of his decision to leave Kirkwall for the hostile land of the Tevinter Imperium, and the rest stayed in the little shack that Marethari had acquired for her occasional visits to the Alienage. By the expression on Hawke's face, Fenris knew there was another matter to be discussed, and he could only guess it concerned the unconscious girl on the cot.

Apparently, Keeper Marethari could tell, too. "You want to know what will become of the girl, yes?"

Hawke nodded in a slightly boyish way, and the Keeper sighed.

"It has been a long time since one of her kind has walked this land," Marethari walked back over to her cot, "and I fear that this might pose a problem, not only for those that see her, but also for herself.

"She came to this land long before the Fade had been corrupted and the Chantry had taken route. She was alive when humans and elves still lived peacefully with one another, before the elves became paranoid at their own slipping immortality. I do not know her name, for it was lost when most of our culture was, but I remember most of her story. When she wakes, this land will be strange and foreign to her. She will not know our language, for I believe she will speak ancient elven. She will wonder what has happened to those that she remembers, and what became of the land she visited. And, I will have to teach her how to live in this new world, how to blend in and how to behave.

"So, until she is ready and strong enough to leave the Alienage, my First—" Marethari gave a nod to Merrill, "—and I will look after her. Does this satisfy you?"

Hawke pondered this. "And after she is strong enough to leave? What then?"

"Then, it will be her choice."

Hawke bit his lower lip in thought, then broke into a wide grin. "Okay then! Thank you, Keeper. Merrill."

Merrill gave him a small smile as Anders, Hawke, and Fenris left the small hut. Fenris was wearing a scowl, still feeling conflicted inside.

Mistaking his inner confusion for worry, Anders smirked. "I didn't think you were capable of worry, or that you were capable of caring for someone other than yourself."

Fenris shot him a dirty look. "I'm not worried about the girl, mage. I'm worried she's an abomination, like you."

"I'm not a n—"

"Both of you!" Hawke silenced them before they started fighting yet again. "I swear, if I hear another word about Anders being or not being an abomination, I'm going to seal both of your mouths!" Hawke gave a secretive smile to Anders. "No matter how sweet your lips taste."

"Ugh," Fenris shuddered and continued walking ahead of them. Mages. Sickening.

Author's Note: Hey everyone! I know I need to update my other stories (I'm working on it, I swear!), this was a commission from my friend, sort of a request, but whatever. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, and comments/concerns/reviews are much appreciated! Thanks everyone!