This is somewhat of a Song of Ice and Fire crossover, but it's not enough to actually call it a crossover. It follows the story of Daenarys Targaryan freeing the slaves in Astapor and Meeren. Other than that, there are no crossover elements, it is still the same Dragon Age characters in the same Dragon Age universe.

I can't claim full credit for this idea, as it was probably a lot of people's on Tumblr. I don't know who said it first, because I mean, we all want this to happen, right?

If the rating changes, it will be because the violence has gotten more graphic, not smut. Edit: I am a filthy liar.

The fire was out, bedrolls rolled up as small as they would go as they set off into the wilds illuminated by the lavender light of dawn. It seemed the further north they went, the longer the days had become. Sleep still tugged at his eyes as Fenris could swear he wasn't sleeping as much as he used to. Not since nearly a year ago, and they had been running ever since. It was wasn't something he ever wanted to do, and, frankly, he still didn't want to do.

The wilds in the north of the Free Marches that bled into Antiva were at least beautiful for what they were. With the warmer weather, the plant life grew more lush and exotic, however subtly at their slow rate of travel. The forest was greener, the air warmer and occasionally sticky with humidity. Hawke would complain about it day and night being Ferelden, but to Fenris, it was a welcome change from spending so many years in the freezing wasteland of Southern Thedas. The Free Marches weren't even the worst of it. He couldn't imagine what Ferelden must have been like.

In truth, he could have been more content with their location had their wandering away from the city not been so aimless. Over time, their path had snaked its way through nonsensical loops of forest path, only leading them in the general direction toward Antiva. There was little else they could have done, although the utter pointlessness of it all was obviously what had driven their friends away from them. Varric eventually figured it was safe to return to Kirkwall a couple of months after they had fled, and Merrill followed him, saying the elves in the alienage needed her. Isabela left soon afterwards, committed to finally getting that ship she had wanted for so long one way or another. Then there was the abomination Anders. Hawke had barely spared him after the horror of the Chantry in Kirkwall. If it weren't for her constant regret over the decision, Fenris would still be berating her about it now. But that was a topic dropped long ago, when he saw the hurt in her eyes even mentioning his name.

"Should have put him out of his misery. He would have gone mad. He was mad. But he could do so much good alive…"

Neither of them had any idea where he was.

So it was just the two of them now, wandering without much of a purpose, and it was difficult to make a purpose for themselves. The actions of Hawke had resounded across Thedas, immediately sparking a mage and Templar war after what had happened in Kirkwall. As much as Fenris had disagreed with taking the side of the mages falling to corruption and possession, it was clear the war would have been a result no matter what they did. Their involvement mattered so much, and yet not at all, for the current situation was inevitable. That night would stick in his mind forever, the blood mage Orsino's monstrous form not something easily shaken from memory. He still couldn't believe he had actually helped those mages, who, for a moment he was willing to believe they had honestly suffered, only to see the blood being spilt by their leader to create the abomination that made people fear mages in the first place. But he supposed he was willing to believe there were other mages outside of the Imperium that weren't so bad. After all, he was still with Hawke.

He was barely seeing the use of Hawke's magic these days, as for the past few weeks, things had been quiet along their path. There were no roving bands of thugs, even this close to Antiva, no fearsome beasts that could put up a good fight. It was entirely peaceful, and the massive sword strapped to his back was beginning to make it sore. Even their conversations had dried up considerably, not that it made them any distant from each other. In fact, in a lot of ways, their boredom made them closer. As Hawke was often fond of saying while beginning to disrobe, "what else are we gonna do?"

Often he wondered just how they could get themselves out of such a stalemate of activity. He wondered if and when it would be safe to return to Kirkwall, at least there they could have some more of the usual company, short a few people. But Hawke adamantly refused, saying she didn't want to risk every guard and remaining Templar at her throat for being an apostate, one who started a war no doubt. She wouldn't want to put Aveline on the spot for letting her walk free when the rest of the city wanted her and anyone associated with her dead. This was her reason for staying away from all other cities as well. But the complacency was beginning to drive him mad. All they did was wander, eat somewhat decent if gamey meals, drink and make love, which was even less of what they did on a typical day in Kirkwall. At least there, Fenris could watch a fistfight in a bar, or find some mercenary work to keep his pockets lined.

But no. Still in the woods. He had agreed to walk into whatever the future held for them at her side, but so far, the future wasn't holding much.

Today the forest was illuminated by bright sunlight, surrounding full leaves swallowing them in emerald green. There was a breeze blowing from the South, cooling off some of some of the humidity in the air, to which Hawke was most thankful. They walked together in silence, enjoying the quiet of the woods, watching birds flit above them, chirping their songs. As they were coming up to a bend in the path, there was a rustle in the bushes. Fenris looked straight ahead towards the sound, tips of his ear prickling. Hawke had stopped moving, already in a defensive stance as the rustling grew louder, louder than any small creature would normally make. For a moment there was silence, but then the bushes rustled some more as their branches were pushed apart. A person burst out, stumbling a bit on their feet before their attention was brought to the pair facing him. He was a young Dalish man, likely just old enough to have been a hunter, his dark hair wild and full of twigs, somehow reminding Fenris of Merrill. He stared at them wide-eyed, but made no effort to reach for the bow slung on his back.

"Dragon," he managed to get through a stutter. "Turn back, shem, turn back!" He ran past them with a surprising speed, travelling down the path before disappearing into the thicker parts of the woods.

Hawke was tense beside him, but they exchanged a look. "Dragon?" she asked him, a curious glimmer in her eye. Had they been with friends, he would have just given her a smile and they would have walked on. But there were only two of them. Suddenly he grew anxious.

"Come on, we've taken a High Dragon before!" she nudged.

"Yes, with four of us," he said with a sigh.

Hawke snorted, placing her hands on her hips in an arrogant gesture. "And here you were complaining there was nothing to do in these woods."

He shook his head, already turning around to walk the way they came. "That does not mean I want to get killed."

Hawke grabbed his hand just as he took the first step. "Please? We don't have to fight it, let's just go see it. Then we can run like hell."

Fenris pursed his lips together and turned to face her. Her blue eyes were big, her brow creasing in the middle. She was practically begging him with that look. A chuckle escaped him. "You want to fight everything. In fact I think the other day you vowed to fight the midday sun."

She gave him a dark look and let go of his hand. "I did not vow to fight the sun."

"You tried to shoot an ice spell at the sky-"

"I did not," she repeated, but a smile was playing on her lips and a laugh betrayed her conviction. "Stop making things up."

He smiled as he stepped closer to her, studying her face. "Fine, let's go see this dragon."

They cut through the bushes where the Dalish had sprung out of. The brush was thick, sticks and rocks difficult to find their steps. Fenris was just behind Hawke, listening intently to the sounds around them. He wondered just how close the dragon was, as neither of them heard any telltale sound, no roaring, not even the gusts of the beast's wings. As they moved as quietly as they could for nearly half an hour, they still heard no sign of it. It had to have been in a clearing or a cave, or perhaps it had flown away. Still, they had found no place where it could have landed. The canopy in this part of the woods was too thick to see it circling the sky. Fenris was beginning to grow suspicious.

They kept moving, heart rates slowing down considerably as they continued to find nothing that would indicate the dragon's presence. Soon enough, Fenris stopped, turning his head to one side, catching the sound of something. Hawke halted in front of him, turning around looking expectant. Fenris listened for a moment, eyes darting around trying to find the direction of the sound. He could hear, just in the distance, the sound of rushing water, meaning there was a river nearby. If there was a river, it was likely there was a clearing, which could mean a dragon. He was half tempted to shake his head, declaring it hopeless and making them turn back as to avoid the potential dragon, but now he found himself curious. Finally he caught the location of the sound and jerked his head in its direction. He began to lead the way, moving to their left, being even more careful with his steps than before.

Soon enough the sound of water grew louder, loud enough to determine that it was indeed a waterfall. They had not come across that in the woods before. They moved slower and slower as the trees grew thinner and thinner, knowing a clearing was coming up ahead of them. There was a dead silence in there air, like all animals had frozen, even the breeze had grew calm. It seemed their feet were making the only noise, but still Fenris felt no sense of a larger presence. Eventually they could see bright light coming from the trees ahead of them, and as they grew closer, they could see the clearing ahead of them.

But no dragon.

They stepped out into the clearing, sunlight shining down on them once again as they found themselves near a river, water crashing down the rocks as it fell into a pond about fifteen feet down. They weren't alone. Standing along the other edge of the clearing stood a woman, her back turned towards them. As soon as they stood in the grass, she turned towards them, deep red robes fluttering around her and Fenris nearly choked on his breath.

"Flemeth."

He had met the old woman once, and there was no mistaking it was her. Hawke was taking strides toward her, and Fenris was about to stop her but he only found himself walking forwards as well.

"Well, well," the witch said in her husky voice, sending a chill straight down his spine. "So we meet again."

Hawke's lips were parted as she stared, and Fenris wasn't sure what to do. He was itching to draw his weapon, but he knew this woman's power. He could only stand frozen in his spot. The witch was smiling, her yellow eyes shifting between the two, her amusement clear. When she began to step forward, they froze in place.

"So strange finding you two here." Flemeth began to pace in front of them, her gaze ever curious. "I wondered if warning you of danger was enough to make you come barrelling towards it. Seems you can never stay out of it, anyway."

Figures. Fenris knew they should have turned back when the air turned quiet.

The witch's smile turned warm, her eyes softening. "But that is not why I'm here." She turned around, continuing to pace in small circles in front of them. She didn't seem nervous, just contemplative, as if she weren't truly expecting to see them.

"I am afraid there is something I must ask of you again, Hawke," she said, voice growing heavy.

"I thought our debt was paid in full."

"It was." Flemeth looked up, eyes glinting with her smile. "However this is for your own good. Both of you."

Fenris felt a lump forming in his throat, and he suddenly felt the urge to run. He remained at Hawke's side, and she was unfazed.

"Perhaps I should fill you in, considering you've walked these wilds for so long." Flemeth's gaze turned wicked as she stopped moving, crossing her arms to face them directly. "Your name has been spread across this continent, Hawke. It seems this war you've started has had your name carried on the lips of many a mage these days."

He felt Hawke glance at Fenris, and he knew she expected him to give her an angry glare, or worse, a look more condescending. He remained still, not wanting to take his eyes off the witch for a second. He heard her swallow. "I guess that's inevitable."

Flemeth's attention shifted directly to Fenris. "Your name, however, I've been hearing a lot lately."

His throat seemed to close shut. "Me?"

"Yes." She stepped forward, ignoring his defensive stance as she grew closer. "Your name hasn't so much been shouted as war cry, but it has been whispered in the shadows all across the Imperium."

The blood drained from his face. Fenris's eyes grew wide, taking it as a warning. He should have known that slaying Danarius was going to come back to haunt him in some way. He should have known the magisters would be finding him to avenge his old master. Now he very much wanted to run, flee down as far South into Ferelden as he could.

"It is not what you think," Flemeth said, voice deep. "It is not those wanting to hunt you, rather it is other slaves. You've ignited a spark by killing your master. You've made them think it possible they could do the same."

He didn't have words, but he finally took his eyes off of the witch when his head whipped around to face Hawke who met his gaze with eyes full of excitement. He didn't know what to think, but the dread he had just felt was waning. He wasn't quite sure what it all meant.

"Of course, they have not used you exactly by name. Anyone wanting to start an uprising would know that." Flemeth caught Fenris's attention again as she walked towards the both of them again. "They are calling you Anima Shartan."

And like that, Fenris's heart dropped like a stone into his stomach. His hands began to shake, expression blank, as everything the witch said ran through his head, but before he began to think on it too hard, he spat out a question. "How can you know this?"

The witch threw her head back and cackled like Fenris thought only a witch could. "My dear," she began, sounding only a touch patronizing, "you said it yourself the first time we met. I see a great deal."

He wanted to believe her, just as her words began to sink in. He could now see the city of Minrathous, all of its tiny side streets and back allies alive with gossip, his name - or rather the new name given to him - burning on the tongues of slaves. A quick exchange of words between two elves passing each other in the market square, a whisper between cooks and cleaners. There were no wild tales of heroism, just quick sentences telling the cold truth. A slave escaped and killed his master. The very idea was a tiny spark of hope amongst the more disenfranchised of the slaves, and it only took that one tiny spark to catch a fire. His stomach churned.

"And what do you need of me?" Hawke asked, returning to the beginning.

"It depends on what you decide to do with this information I have given you."

She was silent after that, only staring at them for a response. Fenris opened his mouth and then turned to Hawke whose eyes could not get any wider. "What… might that be?" she asked, still looking at Fenris.

"At this rate, the magisters will catch on to what the slaves are speaking of," Flemeth continued. "Do not doubt that they have heard of you killing their poor dear friend Danarius."

Fenris nodded. "In Tevinter, whenever there is unrest, the magisters use sedition. Wipe their memories, make them compliant again." There was a pain in his voice, recalling the pain he had felt during the ritual to put the lyrium in his body. He had eventually learned that his memory being erased was fairly normal business for the magisters.

It was becoming clear what Flemeth was asking of them. Why she of all people wanted them to do this, he had no idea.

"I'll cut to the chase, then," the witch said. "Lead them. They all know who you are, they will all recognize you when they see you. Become their hero and charge them forward into battle. Bring the Imperium to its knees."

Fenris's eyes narrowed. "This seems like something we'd be asking you for. Why are you asking this of us?"

Flemeth's eyes practically glowed and a wicked smile crossed her face. "Smart question, but need I give you my reasons? This is a chance for you. To rise up and destroy those who have poisoned your life and the countless lives of others. Why don't you take it?"

He licked his lips, unsatisfied with the answer. It had to have been too good to be true, but the weight of what she was saying was baring down on him heavily now.

"And what are you giving us in return, for us doing this for you?" Hawke asked, voice solid with confidence.

"I provide you the weapon you need to achieve it."

Fenris blinked, but Hawke was looking at him, anxiously rubbing her hands. He had a feeling the witch would not give them much chance to decide, and he felt he needed much of that time. We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment, and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap.

So he leapt.

"I accept," he said carefully, unsure of what it was he was supposed to say. Hawke turned back to the witch and repeated his words.

Flemeth nodded her head once, her smile splitting into a grin, and Fenris knew he would be regretting this.

"And so this weapon," Fenris continued.

"It is up to Hawke," Flemeth stated, turning her gaze upon her. "She is your weapon."

Fenris frowned, unsure of what she was implying. He watched her, brow furrowed and staring at the ground. Suddenly her eyes lit up as she looked back to the witch. Face blank, in all seriousness, she said, "I want to be a dragon."

Had the moment not been so tense, Fenris could have laughed. For whatever reason, he could remember, years ago, that she had told him of her first meeting with the witch, desiring most to be able to change form into a dragon. It seemed Flemeth herself had remembered this, laughing unhinged once again.

"Of course, how could I forget? A dragon, though…" Her eyes became misty as she looked towards the sky, likely imagining a million different scenarios. "A formidable weapon indeed. Burn the magisters alive, turn the Imperium to ash."

The idea was tempting, but Fenris wasn't sure exactly how it was supposed to help. A dragon was powerful, but not invulnerable. They had slain one themselves, and the task of turning the Imperium to ash seemed like a task requiring several miracles.

"If this acceptable to you," Flemeth asked Fenris and he glanced back and forth between the two women. He likely did not have a choice, as he did not have any better ideas of what their weapon could be. "As long as the task is possible with this… weapon."

The witch nodded and walked forward, standing in front of Hawke. She held out her hands, insinuating Hawke give hers. Fenris stepped back as a light began to glow around their fingers. The magic, or whatever it might have been, began to pulse around them. Hawke's pupils shrank and her entire body trembled. A quiet hum rang from her body, but for only a second as the light faded. She suddenly seemed out of breath as Flemeth backed away from her.

"Hone your ability, for it won't happen right away," she said. Turning to Fenris, she regarded him curiously. "It will be interesting to see how to take to this task before you. Just remember that you already have support, and you will have no trouble gaining more."

Hawke's knees were buckling and Fenris went to her side, allowing her to lean on him as his arm was around her waist.

Flemeth had turned away from them, taking long strides towards the other edge of the forest clearing. "Good luck," were her final words before her entire being began to glow a bright golden light. Swiftly her form changed into that of the red High Dragon they had witnessed years ago. The beast lunged forward, and with one heavy flap of its wings, took off from the ground, sending a gust over the trees as she took to the sky. They watched her until she shrank away into the distance.

What have we done?

Fenris walked alone along the outskirts of the Nevarran city, growing more and more irritated by the noise hovering over him. Ever since that day in the Antivan wilds, he had been harbouring regret for his decision. He wished he had put more thought into exactly what Flemeth had meant to be as a weapon against the Imperium. Currently his "weapon" was circling overhead, screeching bloody murder into the sky. He looked up annoyed to see the dragon about twenty feet above him, no more than four feet in overall length. He watched as it coughed out a small ball of flame before tumbling slightly in the sky, flapping its wings desperately as not to fall. A frown had been etched on his face ever since Hawke had first transformed. The very concept of shapeshifting she had nailed down, but her actual transformation was rather pathetic. Flemeth said it wouldn't happen right away, but now Fenris was wondering exactly when it was going to get better. They had been travelling two weeks now, and he hadn't seen much improvement.

Sensing his foul mood, Hawke began to circle downward, landing ahead of him and transforming back into herself. She stood still as he caught up, giving him a lopsided grin. She proceeded to link her arm through his they walked together.

"Must you practice that inane shrieking around me?" Fenris snarled.

"I'm practicing my battle cry!" she protested. He simply rolled his eyes.

"I'm certain you will be able to do that once you can turn into a real dragon."

Hawke looked offended, but she couldn't fight the grin that was on her face. "But Fenris! I can still become a dragon!"

The novelty still hadn't worn off for her. He, on the other hand, had been focused more on what his plans were when they arrived in Tevinter. Through the inns they had recently stayed at, they had asked around for news in the Imperium. The only useful bit of information they had received was that Perivantium, a city close to the Nevarran border, was experiencing unrest. It was a place to start, at the very least. There was of course the matter of actually getting into the country, and then navigate through the city while remaining unnoticed. He was hoping to be able to meet slaves there and somehow find a place to hide. In truth, he had no idea what he was going to do once he got there. He was no military strategist, and Hawke's line of thinking was to become a High Dragon, and intimidate the city officials into surrendering. He also did not know what to expect once they arrived, whether or not slaves would be openly rebelling, or working in secret. The only way to really have a course of action was to actually get there and see. Flemeth promised that they would have support in the country, but he was beginning to question exactly what that meant.

Hawke hadn't seemed to be considering any of this as she spent most of her time flying above him. She truly was trying hard to make her form more impressive, but for the most part she was still getting the hang of flying. It seemed she had this vision of becoming some indestructible high dragon, Fenris riding on her back as she scorched Tevinter down without challenge, magisters screaming as the flesh melted off their bones. It was certainly a more romantic notion of conquering the country, and he wished it were that easy. But there was so much more to that. To Fenris, it was more a matter of gathering the support of slaves and charging on the magisters as an army. The sheer number of slaves in Minrathous, if brought together to fight, might just have been able to take on the magisters. They may have magic, but certainly not the numbers for their way of life to survive.

As he and Hawke found a shabby roadside inn to stay in that night, he remained almost entirely silent for the night. It was clear that his worry was beginning to show on his face, as Hawke stared at him sadly when they sat by the hearth after their meal. He could only stare into the flames, their hypnotic flickering only managing slightly to put his mind at ease. Hawke slid across the bench to touch him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I don't know anything about leading," Fenris finally admitted to her. One of her hands clasped around his.

"I never did either." He squeezed her hand, running a calloused thumb over her fingers. They were a pair both with rough hands, and yet her touch was always the softest thing he ever felt.

"How are we going to conquer a country?" He wasn't asking anyone specifically but himself. It sat heavy with him, the prospect, but not once did it feel like an obligation. Crushing the magisters was something he wanted in his very soul, and vengeance boiled in his blood, calling for their deaths. This wasn't a task he had to perform for some witch making a deal with him, and by now he knew that it was likely not Flemeth's intention, but he still carried a sense of duty. It was his duty to others like him, to other slaves. He had escaped, but escaping wasn't good enough for the rest. The entire country was due for justice.