Summary: When Phaedra is taken by a blood mage, Fenris and Anders put aside their hatred to rescue her. But wait! What does the Queen of Ferelden, an Antivan courtesan, a Dalish songstress, and the Maker's Bride have to do with all this? Sequel to "Loss."

Disclaimer: I own Phaedra and the kids. Plus the various OCs. Nothing else.

Queen's Quornor: Originally I had planned this for Anders and some random Hawke character, then Fenris and some random Hawke character, then Anders and Aria... After much seesawing, I finally settled on Phaedra and Fenris. But I always saw my first completed-game Warden, Tamera Cousland, as the other character in this story. I have no idea what Bioware has in mind for DA3, although I do have a grand list of suspicions and theories by now, so this is my idea for what might have caused the inexplicable disappearance of not only Hawke, but also the Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

The Abduction

Fenris was in a panic.

When night had fallen, he and Phaedra had fallen asleep as usual. He had shut the bedroom door so their children would not join them and taken his wife to bed, wrapping his arms securely around her. She had snuggled into his chest and told him she loved him before they drifted off. All had been normal, and life had seemed perfect.

With the sun's rising, however, the peace had been shattered.

The elf had awoken to find the room in utter disarray, furniture broken and the walls bearing the scars of lightning, and frost dripping from the ceiling. The window had been blown apart, the precious glass laying in shards across the floor. Worse, his wife was gone.

Even more disturbing, Fenris could not recall hearing a single noise that seemed abnormal. Phaedra had been taken from him, and somehow he had slept through the battle waged right in their bedroom.

The children were undisturbed, Malcolm having opted to sleep in Leda's new bed rather than his own. They remained at rest when their father had run down the hall to check on them. Rai'eena had mumbled and rolled over, but that was their only reaction. Obviously whatever had taken Phaedra had targeted her and her alone. The family was of no concern.

What was obvious was that it was powerful. Phaedra was one of the strongest mages Fenris had ever known, and all her spells had apparently been for naught.

Had the templars finally found them, after all these years? The elf scrutinized the room and finally shook his head. This did not feel like their doing. Fenris was a wanted man himself, and the children would have been examined for signs of magic in addition to being taken. Leda's arcane abilities would have been discovered. The entire family would have been hauled away in chains, some bound for prison, the others for Chantry-run orphanages.

Yet Phaedra was the only one missing. So it could not be templars.

Fenris leaned out the broken window, examining the dirt and litter for a trail. His gaze fell upon something in the fallen leaves, and his lip curled in a snarl.

Blood magic had been at work. The leaves were splattered with it, and none of Phaedra's spells could draw blood. The spot reeked of vile energies. When he craned his head to check the wall outside, he noted a smear of blood in the vague shape of a hand, too large to belong to his wife.

But why would a blood mage have taken her? From his experiences with Tevinter's magisters, Fenris knew she was the least likely to be targeted by such filth. Not only was she immensely powerful, Phaedra was not a virgin. Maidens and untried youths were the preferred victims of maleficars, because innocence lent more magic to unholy rites. It would make far more sense for one of the children to be snatched. Yet they remained, and their mother was missing.

This was not random. It couldn't possibly be.

He could not confront such a powerful monster by himself.

Fenris stalked across the bedroom to the corner farthest from the window. Kneeling, he ripped up one of the floorboards to reveal a small hole in the ground. Within that hole was a ring inscribed with a tiny rune on its flat face. He picked it up between two of his fingers, considering the piece with narrowed eyes.

Before the flight from Kirkwall, Sandal had come into possession of two silver rings. Anders had asked the boy to enchant them, but not with any of the usual runes. The apostate had given one of the rings to Fenris and kept the other, so he could be contacted in case of an emergency.

Fenris had never used the ring. After building the house, he had secreted it beneath the floor, hoping to hide it from his wife so all ties could be cut with Anders. He had considered calling him during Phaedra's last pregnancy, when it was apparent that all was not entirely well with the unborn Malcolm, but Aneirin had been brought to them and Fenris had left the ring where it lay.

This, however, was a true emergency.

The elf smoothed his thumb down the rune, watching it flare to life with an eerie blue luminescence. As he had been instructed nearly a decade ago, he spoke to the ring. "Anders?"

There was no reply. He tried again. "Anders, are you there?"

"Bloody flames, I didn't think you would ever use it!"

Fenris jumped as the mage's disembodied voice wavered in the air, sounding clear yet tiny. "I wasn't sure you would answer. It's been quite some time."

"Well, you can't exactly socialize when you've been trying to master your inner spirit. So why are you calling? I doubt it's just to hear the sound of my voice."

"Phaedra's gone."

There was a pause. "What do you mean, she's 'gone'?"

"There was apparently a spellbattle in our bedroom while I slept," he explained through tightly clenched teeth. As much as he despised him, he needed Anders' help. "Someone took her, a blood mage, from the looks of it."

"A blood mage? One which didn't bother the girls?"

"She's the only one missing. I wasn't aware anything had happened until I woke up."

"It takes powerful magic to make an entire household sleep while fighting with another mage. If you're right, then this is a mage on a level I've never heard of."

Fenris could not disagree. Even among the magisters, power like this was incredibly rare. "We have to find her. Fast."

"Are you still living in the forest?"

"We are, yes." Fenris hoped the mage was not too far. Maker only knew how much time Phaedra had before she was bled in a ritual. If Anders was sheltering outside of Ferelden, he would go after his wife by himself and pray he could save her.

"Then I'll be there shortly. Place the ring on the floor and step back. Oh, and you might want to put some clothes on if you haven't yet."

Fenris followed the instructions, unsure what Anders was planning. Just to be safe, he retrieved his sword and leaned on it, the tip dug firmly into the floor. He had fallen asleep in light trousers last night, and he considered that clothing enough for the moment.

The ring began glowing brighter and brighter, until the elf had to avert his eyes lest he be blinded by the azure brilliance engulfing it. Finally the glow subsided, and Fenris nearly jumped backwards across the floor when he looked to find a very naked Anders standing above the jewelry.

"Maker's breath! Wasn't expecting that!" The mage grabbed for the blankets piled on the bed, wrapping them around his body. He looked more embarrassed than anything, considering that his staff was missing along with his clothes and he was standing only a few feet away from a very shocked elf who did not like him in the least. His ring, the mate to the one on the floor, was the only stitch of covering that remained on him.

Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning heavily on his sword. "I take it this wasn't intentional?"

"Far from it! I had my robes on when I entered the ring." Anders busied himself with knotting the blankets so he didn't have to hold them up. "Blast it, Sandal said the runes were fine! Maybe only organic material can travel through the ring?"

"You didn't tell me you could come to me," the elf interrupted, leveling a glare at his least favorite former companion.

Anders shrugged. "I didn't think I'd ever need to use that trick. Now, are there any clothes in this house that might fit me? Does Phaedra have any extra staves lying about?"

Fenris reminded himself again that he needed the apostate's help. There was little in his repetoire that was useful in detecting and combating blood magic. "There are Phaedra's maternity robes. Those are the only clothes loose enough to fit you. As for a weapon, she does keep a spare in the foyer. It's meant for Leda, once she's old enough."

"So you did have a mage. I'd wondered." Anders held the blanket closed at his hip while Fenris stalked over to the cracked wardrobe, digging through the various garments until he found the voluminous set of robes Phaedra had worn in her last months of pregnancy. The articles were thrown at the other man, along with a spare set of the elf's smallclothes, the rattiest pair available. Fenris went to the hole in the wall and stared at the bloodied litter, doing his best to ignore Anders until he was decent.

"So let's say I agree with you about an extremely powerful blood mage abducting Phaedra and dragging her away. How are we supposed to find her?" the mage asked.

"We track them. There is a trail." Fenris' jade eyes narrowed upon the ground, following the crushed leaves. No drag marks were apparent, which meant the perpetrator had picked his wife up and carried her. Odd behavior for a blood mage. But then, nothing about this maleficar seemed to follow the norm.

"What about the girls? I imagine you won't want to leave them alone while we're searching for their mother." Anders grunted and fabric tore slightly. "Maker, I feel ridiculous. Were my shoulders always wider than hers?"

"I'll take them to the Dalish. Merril's clan came south a few years ago, and they're staying in the area until their new Keeper arrives with another group. Phaedra got back in their good graces when she healed two of the clan's children and their elder. I still can't believe they don't blame her for what happened to Marethari." He shook his head at the unpleasant memory. "They might agree to watch the children until we have returned, if only to have access to such a powerful healer. Aneirin isn't easily found, after all."

"Who's Aneirin? You can turn around now. I'm in the robes, for what it's worth."

Fenris turned, and could not stop the smile that tugged at his lips. Anders looked especially foolish in the maternity garb. It was stretched tight around his shoulders and arms, but the rest of it had far too much room in the fabric. Below his chest, the linen hung in uneven drapes to the floor while remaining straight and unwrinkled at his sides. The neckline was far too wide on him, considering that it was meant for a woman whose breasts were heavy with milk. This was compounded by the knowledge that this was the first time the elf had ever seen him without his customary feathered pauldrons. The apostate kicked at the front of the robes, revealing his bare feet. He was severly unlucky in that regard, because neither Fenris nor Phaedra possessed boots large enough to accomodate him. "I don't think the ladies are going to flock around you, so long as you are wearing that," the amused warrior observed.

Anders gave him a sour look. "Stuff it. Now, who is Aneirin?"

"He's the other healer who calls this forest his home. From what I've been told, he's a runaway from the Ferelden Circle who was nearly killed by templar hunters. He survived the wound and became a gifted healer to the Dalish when they come through." Fenris gave the other man a smug look. "He's also the man who saved Phaedra's life when she gave birth to Malcolm four years ago."

The apostate pursed his lips but did not comment on the verbal jab. Instead he crossed his arms and lifted one brow. "I think it's best we get going with all due haste. So, who gets to tell the children why they are going to be staying with the Dalish?"

Fenris sighed and went to wake his offspring.