This is a sequel to "At Your Side", which you should probably read before this. I know, I said I wasn't going to do a full sequel, but when the story idea comes knocking at the door, what are you going to do? This takes place about 19 years after the destruction of the Chantry, about 10 years after the epilogue at the end of "At Your Side". As always, constructive criticism, comments, and suggestions are equally welcomed! I love to hear what you think. Special thanks to Oleander's One for patiently betaing multiple iterations of the first three chapters, and for her enthusiasm and support for the project!

Evelyn Hawke straightened up, a hand on her aching lower back. She'd been stirring the creamy fish chowder for what felt like hours, and the time spent standing in one place had caused her back to stiffen. More stretching, she told herself sternly. They couldn't afford to let themselves get out of shape. She banged the spoon on the edge of the cauldron, reaching for a towel to protect her hands as she lifted the heavy pot of chowder off the fire.

Fenris poked his head in the door. "Is that dinner?"

"Yes. Thanks for your help."

He raised his eyebrows. "I thought you preferred me not to help with the cooking. My attempts never seem exactly appetizing. Fish." His expression eloquently said what he thought of that food.

"True enough. It's just hot in here. I'm sorry I snapped at you." It was an apology that happened all too frequently these days. Evelyn smiled at him to take the sting from her hasty words, and was rewarded by the softening of his green eyes.

"We will be in momentarily," he said, withdrawing his head from the door. Evelyn could hear him calling out to their daughter, who was practicing knife-throwing in the little side yard next to their shack.

Once Evelyn might have taken pride in the state of their home—she had done so, in fact—but they'd been through so many homes in the last several years she had stopped trying. When their daughter Bianca was eight, Tevinter slave-hunters had attacked their peaceful lemon grove in rural Antiva, sending them on their first flight. Since then, they'd lived in two different locations in Nevarra and one in the Anderfels before settling in this tiny Rivaini fishing village. Evelyn understood her mother now far better than she'd ever wanted to. Between the Tevinters looking for Fenris and the Chantry's Seekers chasing her, they were as hunted as she'd been in her childhood. The last thing she'd ever wanted was to raise her own child on the run, but she'd been left with no other choice. Bianca was nearly sixteen now, only a few short weeks away from her birthday, and the chance to settle down and give her daughter some stability was rapidly slipping through Evelyn's fingers. It was this growing desperation and sorrow that had her snapping at Fenris—and often he at her—because neither of them could think of a way to stop the relentless pursuit by their enemies.

Evelyn's dark thoughts were cut off when her family came in; first Fenris, his hair as white and his face as unlined as ever, despite the passage of years, and then Bianca, tall and slim with glossy black hair that she wore in a long braid and green eyes as captivating as her father's. They had been saying for years that they needed to find a place where she could train her skills, as neither Fenris nor Evelyn was particularly adept with knives, bows, or locks, but somehow it had never happened.

"Bianca's aim is improving," Fenris remarked, sitting down at the rickety table and looking at the fish chowder with suspicion. This was far from being his favorite of their many homes. The smell of fish was constant, and sickening. He would have suggested moving on again, but he was aware of how desperately Evelyn hoped each new location would be the last. He knew better; the sheer value of the lyrium embedded in his skin was worth hunting him for, and to his knowledge he was still the only living lyrium warrior. The Tevinters would want to study him in order to replicate Danarius's methods, as well as to use him to the advantage of whichever magister was rich, or clever, enough to procure him. He was less clear on what the Chantry wanted with Evelyn, but with the Chantry's hold on the few remaining Circles slipping, he could only imagine that possession of the famed Champion of Kirkwall would benefit the Chantry's reputation. To his mind, it was a miracle they had escaped detection as long as they had.

"Not enough," Bianca said in response to his remark, and he brought his attention back to the conversation at hand. "When can I go train with Aunt Isabela? She said I can travel with them—I'd be perfectly safe."

"Safe on a pirate ship? That's an interesting definition," Evelyn said, her blue eyes glinting with humor. There were lines on her face and grey streaks in her hair that hadn't been there before, but she was still the most beautiful woman Fenris had ever seen, and he had never quite gotten used to the idea that she had chosen him out of all the men she could have claimed for her own.

"I'd be safer than here," Bianca said sulkily. "At least on the ship I could pretend to be normal; no one would know who my famous parents were." She spat 'famous' as though it were a curse, and Evelyn and Fenris exchanged glances.

"That'll be enough of that," Evelyn said, her voice sharp. "We're a family, and we'll stay together."

"No matter what it costs me." Bianca looked down into her soup, twirling her spoon. "Fine, be selfish." She stood up abruptly, knocking the table and sending the chowder slopping over the sides of the bowls.

"Bianca!" Evelyn called after her, but Bianca didn't look back, moving to the door.

"I'm not hungry," she said over her shoulder. "I'll be outside practicing."

Evelyn sighed, watching as the door swung closed behind their daughter. "She's not wrong."

"Nor are you."

"That's no comfort."

Fenris reached for her hand, squeezing it, and Evelyn managed a faint smile. "She'll get over it," he said.

"When? By the time she's thirty, still on the run? We'll have run out of places to live by then."

There was no reply to give to that one, so Fenris didn't, focusing instead on choking down the soup.

He had made it halfway through the bowl when he heard a cry from the side yard. Instantly both he and Evelyn were on their feet, reaching for the swords that hung, as always, just above the door. Fenris went first, Evelyn behind him, bursting through the door to behold Bianca struggling in the grip of a man wearing the telltale helmet of a Tevinter slave-hunter. Several others stood near the narrow lane that led past the house, their weapons drawn.

"Let me go!" Bianca shouted, stamping on the Tevinter's foot.

"Now, brat, you be nice to me or I won't be nice to you."

"I'll never be nice to you!"

A taller man with an air of authority stepped forward, his eyes on Fenris. "I see we have you at a disadvantage."

"I will kill you if you harm her," Fenris said, beating down the rage that threatened to consume him and speaking as calmly as he could.

"There are eight of us, three of you, and one of you already incapacitated. I know you and your Champion there were fearsome in your day, but that time has passed." The leader spoke with a straight face, but there were snickers from one or two of the others.

"Don't you dare laugh at my parents!" Bianca shouted. She struggled harder in the grip of her captor, and Fenris could see she was trying to reach the dagger she kept concealed in a hidden pocket along the leg of her leathers.

Two of the Tevinters closed in on Evelyn while two others came toward Fenris. They only wanted him, he had learned that by now, but they weren't above menacing the others if necessary. Evelyn held herself still until the Tevinters were almost upon her, letting them think she was cowed by the one holding Bianca, but once they were in range she whirled swiftly, her blade tracing an arc in the air. It cleaved through the neck of the first one, shearing his head from his body, and lodged in the throat of the second. Fenris, alert to her every movement, spun at the same time, leaping into the air and coming down on the unprotected head of one of the Tevinters on his side. Some day they would all learn to wear helmets, he thought grimly. His markings glowed and he sank his fist into the second Tevinter's chest cavity, ripping out the man's heart in a single savage tug.

"Foolish," the captain said. He looked up at the housetop and nodded; a Tevinter stationed there dropped something down the chimney and within moments there was a muffled boom as a bomb exploded in the fireplace. The flimsy wooden shack began burning immediately.

Fenris was profoundly grateful that they had cached their valuables in a small cave outside town, where a rowboat awaited them as well. Now, if they could escape this encounter ...

Bianca shrieked, renewing her struggles, although the man holding her made no move to harm her, for which Fenris was grateful. He wasn't particularly surprised—Bianca may well be considered valuable as leverage against her parents. Or as a potential slave, with years of good work ahead of her, he thought sickly. His anger provided momentum, and he yanked his sword out of the split-open head of the Tevinter, sprinting forward at top speed to impale the obnoxiously self-possessed captain on the great blade.

Meanwhile, Bianca slammed her head back against the jaw of the man holding her. He cried out, moving one of the arms that immobilized her. Immediately she reached for her hidden blade, throwing it with a vicious snap of her wrist. It hit the slaver on the roof of the house—the blade itself merely grazed his armor, but the surprise of it knocked him off balance and he fell from the top of the shack. A sickening crunch was heard as he landed, his head bent at an unnatural angle.

Fenris, looking up, saw their neighbor's three children staring, wide-eyed, over the top of the loft window of their house. When they moved in, they had explained the situation to their next-door neighbors—a risky move, but necessary—and had warned the family to stay out of any trouble that might start, that they would be safe from Tevinters and Chantry unless they tried to interfere. It appeared the warning was being taken to heart; the door was shuttered and no one was to be seen in the usually busy cottage garden. His sharp ears picked up a barked command from inside the house and two pairs of children's eyes disappeared beneath the window sill, the third remaining, transfixed by the battle scene unfolding.

Bianca ducked under the arm of the surprised Tevinter, stamping on his foot again and spinning quickly to punch him in the nose. She shook her hand, wincing, as the Tevinter reeled, holding his nose and howling. Fenris ran to them, putting his already-bloodied hand through the Tevinter's stomach and tearing a fist-sized hole in his vitals. He wanted to see the man suffer, wanted him to die slowly for having dared to touch Fenris's daughter, and the depth of his enjoyment of the man's death rattle shook him. He had never been a man who took pleasure in the pain of others. With his unsullied hand he reached out for Bianca, who came into his arms, clinging to him. "Papa!" It was the first time she had been an integral part of the fighting force—all the other attacks had been at night, and Fenris and Evelyn had taken care of the attackers while Bianca slept. Fenris was tremendously proud of his girl for her self-possession.

It was the gasp that recalled him to the count of slavers and reminded him that he had forgotten one. Turning, Bianca still sheltered in his protective arm, he saw Evelyn dropping to her knees, holding her side, as the last Tevinter slowly fell over backward, Hawke's blade buried in his chest cavity.

"Evelyn!" Fenris ran to her, going on his knees next to her.

"I'm all right." She tried to smile at him, but her eyes were filled with pain, and blood shone red between the fingers she held to her side.

The house was burning, the neighbors beginning to creep out of their houses to fight the leaping flames now that the battle was over. The woman who lived next door, a tall, spare, unsmiling type, came over to them as Fenris struggled to think clearly enough to know what to do next. Seeing Evelyn wounded took the very heart out of him; all he could grasp was that he had brought this danger on them, that she was wounded, perhaps badly so, because of him.

The neighbor pushed him aside. "I have a poultice I can spare, stop the bleeding for a little," she said, "but then you've got to get out. Can't have this here, endangering our little ones." Her voice was uncompromising, but there was kindness in the tone.

"We couldn't stay anyway, not now that they know we're here," Bianca said. She put her hand over Evelyn's, doing what she could to staunch the bleeding.

With a brisk nod, the neighbor pushed Fenris and Bianca aside. "You two go help with the fire, keep it from spreading."

Fenris knew it was the least they could do, after having brought danger to these people, but the men of the village were working hard now, bringing water up from the shore in a practiced brigade, and Evelyn needed him. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing tears spilling down his wife's face, tears she usually was able to hold back, as the neighbor woman probed the wound with knowledgeable fingers. Bianca pulled on his arm.

"Come on, Papa. Sooner we get the fire under control, sooner we can be on our way to ... wherever we're going." Her voice was bitter, and he worried for her as he mechanically joined her in the bucket line.

By the time they had the fire doused—too late to save anything from what had so briefly been their home—Evelyn's side was bandaged and she was on her feet, although not steadily.

Bianca collected both their swords as Fenris stopped to thank the neighbor. "There will be some payment in the cave to the south of town, as well as whatever can be salvaged from the house. We appreciate ... everything." He had long since stopped being suspicious of the neighbors. They may have been the ones to inform on the family, but he would never know, and he slept more easily if he could avoid thinking vengeful thoughts about everyone he had met.

"Go safely." The neighbor stood watching them as they left the yard, Hawke leaning heavily on Fenris's shoulder as Bianca carried the swords.

The rowboat was undisturbed, as was the cache of their belongings. By the time they reached it, Fenris was practically carrying Evelyn. He set her gently in the boat, collecting the things they had left in the cave before joining his wife and daughter. He disliked traveling by water, but it was the best choice for now, and the nearest.

"Where are we going this time, Papa?" Bianca's green eyes were wide and shone with unshed tears.

He paused in the act of picking up the oars, realizing he did not know the answer to her question.

"Fenris." Evelyn's voice was faint. He leaned down toward her where she lay in the bottom of the boat, to hear her better.

"What is it?"

"Take me home."

He wasn't sure where she meant. Antiva? Ferelden?

"Take me to Kirkwall," she said. "I want Varric."