Author's Note: So, here's my first story. I've never published a fanfic before, but read enough so I figured, why not? In regards to the plot, Hawke never met Fenris and he never joined the Champion's party. One hero's loss is another's gain, yeah?

I'm pretty anxious and excited, but I'm looking forward to where this story's going.

Probably to a lot of Fenris. X)

Ma'nehn did not like the Hinterlands. It must have been beautiful at one point or another, but to her, at it's current state of chaos, it was just another mess created by the shemlen. A mess that really shouldn't have anything to do with her, yet she was obligated, as their Herald, to clean it up. The very thought brought an ugly scowl to her face.

Lavellan continued her infallible pace, nimble across the roots and foliage she insisted to cross instead of the roads. Less likely to come across rebel mages and rogue templars, she surmised. It was quiet for a while as they jogged through the trees and rocks, the clashing of steel and explosions far away in the thick forest.

"Something's up ahead," Varric said.

She squinted in the distance looking for tell-tale signs of a rift. Neither green sparks nor demons were anywhere in sight. Furrowing her eyebrows, she moved faster through the leaves, nearly running in her haste. What she saw were mages surrounding a lone elf, lean like any of the People, his ears and eyes shadowed by shocking white hair. He wielded a greatsword taller and looking heavier than himself with a grace that was–if she was honest with herself–quite beautiful to watch. Pulling out her bow and nocking back an arrow, she pulled, aimed, exhaled out of her mouth, and let the projectile fly. It struck true and hit one of the mages in the neck.

She felt Solas' magic enveloping her in a barrier, could hear Cassandra letting out a loud war cry, see Varric readying Bianca beside her; she continued her assault on the mages, drawing some of their attention. They didn't get far from the lanky warrior, his sword cleaving them before they left his circle of destruction.

Everyone in the party kept their strikes tight to not hinder the stranger, his swings wide but with purpose, never missing in his agiled strength. When one mage managed to get close however, the most extraordinary sight nearly caused her to let loose her grip on her bow. She watched with wide eyes as the elf's hand glowed ethereal with some form of magic, the white tattoos on his skin radiating silver light. She stared in awe as his fist went through the armor and he pulled–taking with him a bloody heart that ceased to beat, the mage left crumpled at his feet. Shaking her head, she pulled out her last arrow and drew back as far as she could, her muscles straining against the bow, and let go. The arrow went through the last three mages that thought lining themselves in a straight line was a good idea. The Dalish archer sighed in relief as all of their adversaries fell with her final shot.

"Is everyone alright?" Lavellan asked loudly as she looked around to check her companions. Everyone seemed no worse for wear, however she still insisted they all drink a potion if they were feeling even remotely fatigued. Ma'nehn uncorked a bottle and held it out towards the elven warrior, but he just sheathed his sword and ignored the gesture, his face a neutral mask. "Are you hurt?"

"No," was his abrupt reply. His eyes roved over their group quickly before stopping at Solas, a sneer adorning his features when he noticed the staff strapped to his back. "Mages, if you had not noticed, are poisonous snakes waiting to kill you the moment you turn your back. It would behoove you to kill them where they stand, before they get the chance to do so."

"Solas is a valued ally that saved my life, and everyone else, countless times," she cooly replied. "I would not squander the help he had so graciously given us at the expense of his own freedom and safety."

"Oh," he asserted, his eyes widening in surprise. "I must sound ungrateful. That was not my intention." He shook his head, nodding to himself before meeting her eyes once again. "These were not rebel mages, but a group of Tevinter extremists that call themselves 'Venatori.' I heard of a Magister heading the rebels in Redcliffe, and was on my way there until I happened upon this group. They were more numerous and stronger than I anticipated. I thank you for your assistance."

"What's your name, warrior?"

"You may call me Fenris."

"Well, Fenris, you seem pretty damn capable," Ma'nehn exclaimed. "We're actually on our way up to Redcliffe Village to meet with Magister Alexius–"

"Alexius?" Fenris interjected. "You... You're meeting with him?"

"I mean," she responded with a smirk on her face. "If by 'meeting' you mean it ends with my arrows sent right through one or both of Alexius' eyes, then yes, I am 'meeting' with him." Ma'nehn grinned a dangerous smile.

Fenris' lips twitched. "Would you allow me to repay my debt and accompany you to Redcliffe Village? I have no gold to offer you, but my blade is yours."

Lavellan beamed, her gold eyes sparkling mischievously. "The Inquisition, and myself especially, would welcome your help. I am Ma'nehn of Clan Lavellan."

"Good to have you on the team, Broody! I'm Varric Tethras."

"Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast."

"Solas."

"You've met my current companions, but the rest are just at the camp up ahead. We'll stop there for a break and replenish our supplies, then continue our way north to Redcliffe."

"Sounds like a plan, Cheeky."

Lavellan laughed, punching the durgen'len lightly on his shoulder at the sound of her nickname. Her expression turned somber as her eyes landed on Fenris. "I'm informing you now that I am going to Redcliffe with the intention to either ally or conscript the mages under the Inquisition to close the Breach. I–you, really–will undoubtedly meet and fight alongside more mages in the near future. It's unavoidable."

A grimace adorned Fenris' visage, his moss-green eyes alighting with disgust. "I understand," he acquiesced. "My blade is still yours."

"And what a very big blade it is, Broody! Nearly as impressive as the glowing tattoos and ghost hand. I bet there's a story behind that."

"Ah, yes," Fenris breathed. "I must be a strange sight. My markings have served me well, despite their origins."

"And those origins are...?"

"Oh, leave him be, Varric." Lavellan interrupted, laughter in her voice. "You can interrogate him when we're not in the middle of a forest half bruised and bloody."

"Excuse me, Cheeky, but it's not everyday you meet a person that can make their hands glow–not counting you, of course–and literally rip someone's heart out through clothes and armor!" He chuckled lightly. "That's not normal."

She smirked, turning around and finally setting a pace, slower and steadier than her frenzied run before. "We're not exactly a normal bunch, are we?"

Let me know your thoughts?