Author's Notes: I am very new to writing Dragon Age fanfiction, so forgive me if occasionally the things they say don't sound entirely in character. It can be difficult to get into the heads of the characters, as I'm sure many of you know. As a warning to anyone who might have a problem with OC's, there IS an original character in this story. Actually, there are several. Captive's Chant is meant to be an introductory story to the character Aria, who you will learn about if you read this. Aria was an idea I had while lamenting some of the limitations of the game-play in Dragon Age II and pondering the things that a Malifecar would be capable of. I take some liberties and use quite a bit of creative license with this story.

Legal: Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

Timeline: This story takes place in the 3 years between Acts 2 and 3. The assumptions made are that both of Hawke's siblings have died, and Hawke has rode the fence on the Mage/Templar issue, coming out more on the side of Templars.

Pairings: (M) Hawke & Merrill, Fenris & Isabela

Warning: Mild Language, Violence, and potentially some suggestive content later.

(UPDATE:) Edited, Revised, and re-posted (again)!

The Captive's Chant

Chapter 1

Life could never be simple.

As Aria leaned carefully against the stone wall just on the other side of the armoire, she gritted her teeth and attempted not even to breathe. She had come into this room an hour ago to read in private, not knowing that her master and his brother would enter the room and get comfortable.

She wasn't allowed in this wing of the house. Mordan Cartwright didn't approve of his 'staff' wandering the house without his permission, and his private library was most definitely off limits. She closed her eyes and steeled her nerves as fear and apprehension of what might happen threatened to overwhelm her. Gripping the metal necklace around her neck, she took a soft breath and listened to the men. At first, Aria had been curious about their hushed tones when they were in a wing of the house that was forbidden to most, but it didn't take her long to realize the truth of it.

"We would place an archer here, and here." The man said, pointing to the locations on the map before them.

His co-conspirator squinted in the candlelight at the indicators that the man had placed, taking in the plan with a malevolent grin. "Good, good. But the archers can't be the only ones there. Your target goes nowhere unarmed, and if they miss…"

"I already thought of that. The plan is to have more assassins in the crowd. If the archers miss, it will afford enough of a distraction to allow the others to cut him down."

"The festival will be the perfect cover. If the men you hired are any good, they should be able to escape any of the city guard or perhaps even go completely unnoticed."

"I assure you, I could not have hired better men for the job."

Aria's heart sunk from her chest into the floor. The festival was tomorrow, there would be no time for her to sneak into the room later and potentially learn the target's identity. She squeezed her eyes shut and took another shallow breath to steady her nerves, her hands trembling in trepidation. Not only for her own wellbeing, but for whomever Mordan had seen fit to sic the pack of trained killers he hired. Chewing on her lip, she continued to listen.

Neither men touched further onto who the intended target would be, but continued to discuss potential contingencies and concerns about failure, most of them coming from Leander, rather than from conversation dragged on for what seemed like hours, before their voices eventually faded into the distance and Aria had enough nerve to peek around her place of safety to see if she could leave.

When she felt certain the coast was clear, she launched into motion, moving out the door and down the hall as quietly and yet as fast as her feet would take her. Continuing until she had nearly reached the safety of the 'servants' quarters, she turned to look behind her to be sure she had not been noticed. In that instant, she slammed backwards into someone else, and she let out a startled yelp that might have been described as the sound a dog might make when beaten. She whirled quickly, and met almost the duplicate of her own face. The only real difference in appearance between she and her twin sister had been the earring Audrienne wore in her right ear, the beauty mark that accented the corner of her left eye, and her short cropped hair.

"Aria!" She hissed quietly. "Why are you wandering the halls? Are you looking for a lashing? Creeping around this house in the middle of a night like you own it, you're going to get yourself killed!"

Audri held the door open for her sister, who slid quickly in and pushed it closed behind her. As she leaned up against the sturdy wooden door, her hands still trembled, and she clutched them to her bosom to ease the feelings of fear that still tried to control her.

"I stole away for a bit of reading. I have yet to see the harm in that."

"If Mordan catches you in his study… Maker's breath, you can be foolish. I've warned you before, Aria. There may come a day when my favors won't work to keep you from feeling the brunt of Mordan's anger. Please, dear sister. I do not want to think what he would do to you if I were not able to stop him."

The thought flashed quickly through Aria's mind, the contemplation of whether or not she should tell her sister what she had overheard, but she inwardly shook her head as soon as the thought formed. It was far too risky. If Audrienne caught even the slightest hint that Aria might try to foil their plans, she would find every possible method to keep them from ever getting to the festival. She was alone in this. Utterly alone.

"I will try harder to be careful. Forgive me, Audri."

Audrienne sighed and sunk down onto the fainting couch, clutching her head softly in her hands.

"I swear you will be the death of me."

Try as she might, Aria could not sleep that night. However, it wasn't thoughts about what would happen the next morning. It was her sister's words that haunted her dreams in the Fade.

Festivities were in full swing. The banners were flying high, welcoming residents into the streets for what was supposed to be a memorable occasion. All of Kirkwall nobility and a decent portion of the middle and lower class had turned out to see what excitement and entertainments were in store for them. All manners of performers and merchants hovered about the Hightown Bazaar and the areas around Hightown that were close to the Chantry. Some of the attendees had obviously been into the drink heavily, and amongst them he recognized quite a few of The Hanged Man's regulars. When Garrett Hawke had heard of Ser Cartwright's plan to have a festival in celebration of surviving the Qunari attack on Kirkwall, he had thought the entire thing to be a risky venture. It had only been a year, and the attack was still fresh in many of the citizens' minds. To make matters worse, the hostilities between the Mage's Circle and the Templars only continued to grow. Acts of what could only be called terrorism on both organizations' sides were pulling Kirkwall further into darkness. And then there was always the Coterie and the Carta to consider, along with a host of smaller thief factions that vied for control. While he might have agreed that Kirkwall was in need of some light-hearted fun, this was also the worst possible distraction. Hawke's thoughts immediately went to his friend, Aveline Vallen. He could only imagine that 'Captain of the Guard' must be a difficult position to swallow in situations like this. Being in charge of the safety of civilians was hard enough in these times, without bringing the entire city's residents into the streets.

"Aveline is going to have her hands full trying to keep the crowds under control." Hawke spoke over the din.

"She's a big girl. I think she can handle herself." Isabella replied with her usual nonchalance and coy smile, her eyes scanning the crowds of people before them with a predatory gaze.

Hawke shook his head and observed the thrall of celebrators himself. Pushing through the crowds of people gently with the occasional murmured apology, he made his way towards the stage close to the Chantry's staircase.

"The main attraction is supposed to be quite a thrill. Evidently Ser Cartwright entered two of his own servants in the event. The dancer is supposed to be quite impressive, and –very- flexible." Isabela said, the word 'flexible' coming out with a lascivious undertone. She stood on tip toe in an attempt to see above the people in front.

"Keep your hand on your purse, Hawke. Thieves like striking during events like this." Varric reminded him, adjusting the strap that held Bianca to his back.

As they slowed approach, realizing they could move no farther forward, the drums and trumpets began to sound, and a simultaneous shout of excitement sprang from the crowd. The hovering horde in front of them thinned slightly, allowing Hawke and the others a chance to see what all the excitement was about. A group of ten women, each dressed in the same garb, took the steps to the stage gracefully and stood in their places.

"There she is; the one in the center front." Isabela shouted over the whistles, claps, and cheers. "She's one of Cartwright's; rumor going around The Hanged Man is that she's his 'private dancer' And there's her sister, the one sitting at the drum."

Hawke's attention went to the one Isabela was indicating. Honey-blonde hair flowed down the girl's back, falling to her waist, most of it pulled back into a braid to keep it out of her face. She was not as dusky as Isabela, but her skin did not share Merrill's porcelain coloring. Though he could not make out the more subtle features of her appearance, from what he could see, she was a very attractive Elven woman in her early twenties. When his eyes slid from the dancer to the musician sister, his mouth parted a little in surprise. Identical twins. Hawke's attention was pulled back to the conversation, which had developed into a conversation about the festival's 'benefactor', who had offered his own servants as part of the festivities and had obviously shelled out more coin than Hawke had spent at one time.

"How is it we've never heard of this Cartwright until now?" Hawke glanced at Varric, who still strained to see through the crowds.

The dwarf shrugged. "He keeps to himself. There are whisperings that he's got his fingers in some pretty nasty stuff. Without evidence, who's to say?"

"I heard he's had dealings with the Coterie –and- the Carta."

Hawke looked at Isabela. "Are we talking Lyrium or something more sinister?"

Isabela shrugged, eyes going forward to the dancers again. "Who knows, but as long as he keeps his nose clean enough that the Guard and the Templars can't catch him, no one can touch him. What can anyone do?"

"You say that as if it has stopped Hawke before." Fenris remarked, amusement turning up the edge of his lip a little.

Isabela snickered. "If Hawke had his nose any further up Aveline's arse—"

"—shall we cover the situation regarding the Qunari relic again, or shall we let my wish to remain on the proper side of the law alone?" Garrett grinned at her playfully, knowing that the relic was still enough of a sore point that she wouldn't finish her sentence.

She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms under her ample bossom. "You're never going to let me live that down, even though you let me take it?"

"I let you take it. I didn't encourage you to steal it the first time." He reminded her, that charming smile still on his face.

She offered what could only be described as a sigh of defeat. "Alright. Point taken."

Varric chuckled and shook his head.

The remainder of the conversation was drowned out by the music as the girls began to dance.

The music thrummed through her as if it were her life's blood. Her heart kept perfect tempo with the beat of the drums as they thumped to life under her sister's capable hands. When it came to music, Audrienne had the gift. Whatever the instrument, given enough time and determination, she could play with expertise that made others jealous. Her twin's hands moved over the drums, changing pitch and tempo by choosing a different spot on the stretched hide. Eyes closed, Aria waited for the proper moment, and then without opening her eyes to check her fellow dancers, she began to move. Following the cadence of the drums and the sounds of the music as it enveloped her, she needn't look at the other dancers to know what she when and where she was supposed to move. Through the first half of the dance, she barely opened her eyes at all, content on feeling her heart keep perfect time with the beat of the music from the snare drum, reed flute, and the castanets on a few of the dancers fingers.

Once they reached the difficult part of the dance, Aria opened her eyes and gazed out over the crowd in between dance moves. An excited smile crept onto her face as she watched the mass of people cheering, clapping and dancing along. For a moment, things were perfect.

Nothing is ever perfect. She reminded herself.

Her eyes moved away from the crowd, and she caught sight of something, which drew her attention. No, not something. Someone. A man dressed in dark leathers, with a bow in hand, stood atop a roof overlooking the festivities. Aria's heart fell as she was reminded that she had a job to do. She had to foil Mordan's plans, even if it meant the death of her. She couldn't stand the idea of him pulling off the assassination and getting away with it. He had to be stopped. Her eyes darted to another rooftop, and she caught sight of another archer. It was that she took note of the others, a scattering of men in the crowd, all in the same uniform and heavily armed. Her heart sunk as it had done the night before, and she had to concentrate to keep dancing and pretend as if nothing was wrong. Her blood thrummed through her, but now for another reason - fear.

Maker, they're Crows. Four on the ground, two on the rooftops. How had the city guard not seen them? How had the Templars not? She gritted her teeth, and watched the men as best she could while she continued to dance, her attention going back to the archers on the roofs.

There! She thought. One of them tipped his hand; he's looking at the crowd!

She followed his line of sight, and a knot settled into the pit of her stomach when she realized who the intended target was.

Maker's breath… no!

She saw the archer pull an arrow from his quiver, knock it, and prepare himself for the draw. In that instant, Aria's body reacted on instinct. She broke formation and leapt from the stage, rushing through the crowd.

Andraste… Maker's Bride… let my feet be swifter than his arrow!

"Aria?!" She heard her sister shout, but there was no time to explain.

As she pushed through the crowd, she grabbed a shield off one of the citizens as she shoved them out of the way, and continued to rush forward. Several people tried to stop her, clawing at her garments, forcing her to dart away from their outstretched hands. They could not stop her. If they did…

She heard the thwang of the bow just as she reached the target, and she turned the shield in the direction of the archer. She yelled out to the man to get down, but she did not realize that as adrenaline pumped through her, she had slipped into her native Antivan. All breath escaped her as the arrow made impact with the wooden shield, pushing her back into the target a little. The ones that were with him pushed him out of the way, and the other archer's arrow struck a wooden barrel to Aria's right. She sucked in a breath to steel her nerves and looked for the two archers as panic took the crowd, but they were gone. Her attention went in the direction of the target, and she caught sight of one of the armed assassins lunging towards him, the killer's daggers raised and poised to strike.

"Watch out! Behind you!" She shouted, throwing the shield at the killer.

The wooden shield connected with the assassin, sending him flat on his ass. As the killer pushed himself to his feet, he made eye contact with Aria, eyes narrowing. They stared at each other for a mere second, but a challenge had passed between the two of them without a word being spoken. He launched himself off the ground and at her, moving forward and up as he kicked himself off the ground, blades raised to strike, but with her as the target this time. At the last second, Aria shifted a foot backwards slightly to catch herself as she dropped to the ground, both legs lifting in a graceful arc upward. Her feet connected with the man's chest, and the action of his jump and her fall did the rest. As he arced over her, his expression turned to one of shock. Gritting her teeth, she kicked as he was over her head, sending him crashing into a stack of cargo behind them. Quickly, she pulled herself to her feet, turning to meet another potential attack, only to find that her attacker was no longer amongst the broken and fallen pieces of cargo that he'd been thrown into. He'd disappeared into the chaos of the crowd.

Whirling quickly, Aria meant to assist in dispatching the other assassins, only to see that the man's companions had everything well at hand. One young woman, clothed in so little it almost made Aria blush with embarrassment at the sight, slashed at one opponent with her daggers, while the elf she had seen with the mouth pulled back into a severe grimace and the Champion took turns slashing at the other ones.

"Anybody order a shot to the face?" Called the Champion's dwarf companion, taking shots at each attacker with a cross bow that looked as if it should have been wielded by someone twice his size.

The scantily clad woman let out a shout as the assassin attempted to overpower her, bearing down on her blades with his own. Gritting her teeth, Aria looked around for something she could use to help. Catching sight of a small bag of useless pebbles, she snatched the bag up, and moved in to flank the opponent the woman was battling. Shouting something meaningless in Antivan, she loosened the string on the bag and flung the pebbles on the ground at the opponent's feet. The diversion worked. In attempting to turn to look at the Aria, the pebbles caused him to lose his footing, and he went down. The woman finished him off with a coupe de gras before glancing up at Aria, amber eyes dancing with excitement.

"Thanks, pet!" She shouted, rushing off to help take down the last two men.

Seeing that her role in the battle was finished, Aria stepped back, leaning forward with her hands on her knees for a moment, finally attempting to catch her breath from the excitement. City guards and Templars moved about quickly to try and quell the panic, but the streets were already beginning to empty. Aria felt herself grabbed by the arm, and whirled. She raised her fist up for a punch, but held her blow when she met the angry expression of her twin.

"Aria? Are you crazy?!" Her sister chastised her, shaking her like a rag doll.

Aria opened her mouth to explain, but nothing came out. They stood quietly for what felt like minutes, until the Hightown square was empty of all but those who had been involved in the fracas.

"I want to know what in the void is going on here." Sounded the booming female voice of Guard-Captain Vallen.

"So do I! Aria! Audrienne!"

At the sound of Mordan's voice, Aria stiffened slightly, and then dropped to one knee and crossed one arm over her heart, fist to her left shoulder. Audrienne instinctually did the same. Feeling eyes upon her, Aria turned her head just to the side enough to look at the man whose gaze had settled on her so intensely. In that moment, the feeling of apprehension she had felt at the thought of what punishments lay in store for her were squashed by the relief of knowing that no matter what happened, she had seen to it that no blood was shed today.

As nobleman Cartwright and Aveline conversed about what had just occurred; Fenris lifted the small wooden shield to show it to Hawke. The arrow stuck through the wood two inches.

"That was a close one." He murmured.

"What the bloody shite was that, Hawke?" Isabela swore under her breath.

Hawke did not answer her. His focus had fallen on the dancer who had saved his life. Now that she was closer, he could make out more of her small athletic form, but her face was hidden. As if she knew he was watching her, she turned her head slightly and peered through her hair at him, an expression of relief on her face.

"Did you see the way she moved…?" Hawke murmured the question quietly to no one in particular.

"That couldn't have been chance. She knows something." Varric said.

"I'll bet 10 silver he'd never let us get close to her, let alone talk to her." Isabela muttered.

The group watched as Aveline shook hands with the nobleman, and then approached the group, rubbing her forehead.

"What did he have to say?"

"He doesn't know anything about the attempt on Hawke's life. I told him he should consider promoting that woman to the role of bodyguard, or let me hire her. The girl's view from the stage most likely gave her the advantage; though it's anyone's guess how she saw the archers. I didn't even see them. I'll talk to –you- later, Hawke. Right now I have reports to fill out on this mess." Aveline walked away, muttering.

As Mordan and the two servant girls passed, the group went silent to avoid them from overhearing the discussion. Hawke instantly felt tension from Fenris, and he heard the elf growl low in his throat in anger.

"Slaves…"

Garrett turned to look over his shoulder at Fenris. "What do you mean?"

"The necklace around their necks. Another old Tevinter technique. Make the collar look like jewelry and no one will be the wiser. They can travel with slaves outside of the Tevinter Imperium and no one will notice."

"What's to stop them from running away?" Isabela, the inflection in her voice filled with doubt.

"The collar is made of a special metal that is highly conductive. If a mage uses a chain lightning spell, they can shock or kill the wearer instantly." His tone filled with disgust and anger.

"Do you think he'll punish them for what happened today?"

Fenris snarled softly. "Men like that need no reason. The use of that collar is proof enough."

Isabela frowned softly and chewed at her lower lip. "What's the plan, Hawke?"

"He's a nobleman. We won't be able to get him arrested or even touch him without raising Aveline's blood pressure. Unless we get evidence." Varric murmured softly. "We're better off sneaking in and getting what we need. Then, I say we let Broody here do that hand thing."

Hawke nodded, watching after them as man and his slaves turned the corner, heading towards the Hightown Estates.

"She stuck her neck out pretty far for you, Hawke; me too. I think there should be a way we can skirt the law on this one."

"You sound as if you want to castrate the man." Varric stated.

"I'm not adverse to the idea." Fenris' voice filled with hatred for the man.

"I don't intend to break the law on this, Isabela. Varric is right. We need to find evidence, not rush into this situation half-cocked."

Isabela snorted softly, eyes rolling. "You're just worried you'll get in trouble with Aveline."

"I don't intend to do nothing. I'll go by myself. The four of us together will attract too much attention."

"Why not let one of us go?" Isabela said; her tone argumentative.

"Because –I- owe her, and you –would- castrate him."

"Be careful, Hawke. Only a mage would use those collars."

"Watch out for fireballs. Got it."

Varric chuckled.

"Hawke…" Isabela and Fenris said in unison, their voices tinged with concern.

"I'll be careful." The finality in his tone silenced more objections or comments as he strode away.

It was the depth of twilight when Hawke reached the estate that Varric's talebearer indicated belonged to Serah Mordan Cartwright. The stone structure resembled many of the other homes in Hightown. The sound of hushed voices lured him around to the back of the estate, where there was a small courtyard.

"What you did today was inexcusable."

The voice was barely recognizable as the voice he had heard from the nobleman earlier that day. It was deeper, darker, and cruel.

"Mordan, she was just attempting to protect the Champion. What she did will not hurt your status in Kirkwall in the slightest. The fact that she's considered a servant to you might elevate your status. Please, Mordan. Show mercy…"

Hawke heard a cry of pain, and heard the other sister pleading over and over for Mordan to stop. On the air was the smell of ozone. Garrett clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, imagining what the monster was doing.

The cries of pain ceased moments later, and then he continued to hear the sounds of the other sister's pleas as they faded into the distance. He heard the sound of a heavy wooden door shut, and the courtyard went silent. After waiting several minutes, he slipped into the moonlit courtyard, slowly moving towards the slumped figure of the one sister that lay on the ground. The air was charged with the power of the spell, and smelled even stronger of ozone as he grew closer.

Garrett crouched down, gently grasping the girl's shoulder and turning her. As he took in the sight of the burns around her neck, he felt his anger boil over. Forcing himself to focus on the girl's wounds, he reached a hand gently out, finger feeling for a pulse.

His attention elsewhere, he had not noticed that they were not alone until the cold metal of a blade was pressed against his neck. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slit your throat."

The girl who had been slumped on the ground opened her eyes slowly one at a time, and met Hawke's gaze.

Maker's breath… those eyes…

The girl's upturned face was illuminated in the moonlight, and what struck him was the shade of her eyes. They were a haunting violet, the color of uncut amethyst. The girl's expression moved between fear, confusion, and then recognition. Her lips parted slightly to speak, but she seemed momentarily struck dumb. When her gaze finally shifted and caught the glint of the blade held to Hawke's throat, however, her voice returned.

"Audrienne… stay you're blade… it's the Champion." Her voice was hoarse, either from injury or from crying.

The blade came away from his neck, and he turned to glance at the other young woman, though there was no need to now that he knew who she was.

"What are you doing here?" She hissed quietly. "You will see us both killed for sneaking in here like this."

"Audri, your tension will do nothing for the situation. Please. Calm yourself." The girl on the ground shifted. Instinctively, Hawke offered her a hand and helped her gently to her feet. She looked at him and put her finger to her lips, and beckoned for them both to follow her to the furthest end of the courtyard, near a small flower garden that had obviously been ignored for some time. A stone fountain that appeared to be the center focal point for the garden had long since dried up, and begun to crumble with disrepair. Several stone benches littered the area, but could not be called inviting given their surroundings.

Once they were further away from the house, the woman exhaled heavily in relief.

"You already know who I am. Don't you think it's time you introduced yourselves?" Hawke asked, his gaze moving between the both of them.

"There is not someone in all of Kirkwall that does not know the stories of the Champion of Kirkwall." The one who had been called 'Audrienne' motioned with her blade before returning it to its place within the folds of her skirt. One dainty hand pointed to herself, and then to her twin. "As my sister announced, I am Audrienne. Her name is Aria."

Now that he was able to observe them up close, he could see the subtle differences between the two of them. Though they were identical in appearance, there were nuances that were not lost on Garrett Hawke. Audrienne's personality reminded him vaguely of Isabela; though not on such a grand scale. There was a confidence to her gait that indicated battle prowess beyond her years. Her voice was deeper, with a husky undertone, and there was a hint of accent that seemed to be void in her sister's. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely across her chest, her gaze on him as if to be a challenge. There was a fullness to her figure that indicated an activity level that differed from that of her twin. Aria was an inch or two shorter, even with the slouchy relaxed posture of her sister, and her body had a muscle definition that led one to believe that dancing was her life. However, the way she carried herself was devoid of her sister's 'go ahead and try to take me on' attitude. She was demure, stealing the occasional glance at Hawke but not making complete eye contact. The twin seemed more content to keep to herself. This was not the woman he had seen on stage, smile curving her lips.

Audrienne seemed to notice his observation, because she glanced to Aria. Pulling something out of her pocket, she offered it to her, and he caught a glimpse of a small crystal vial of red liquid.

"Here, sister. Tend to your wounds while I talk to the Champion."

The girl accepted the potion and moved quietly inside without another word. Once Aria had shut the door, Audrienne allowed herself another heavy sigh.

"Maybe you should start at the beginning and tell me what this is all about." Hawke sat down on a stone bench overlooking the dried-up fountain, lacing his fingers and giving the woman an expectant look.

Another sigh escaped her, and she raked a hand through her hair. "What would you like to know?"

"The rumor around Lowtown is that Mordan Cartwright is your benefactor, and that you are paid servants in his household. What a companion of mine caught sight of earlier, and what I saw just now, indicate to me that those rumors are baseless, if not outright lies."

"Mordan Cartwright is no benefactor." She said; her voice dripping with venom. "He is a menace. And we are not his 'servants'. Mordan Cartwright purchased us from a mage in Tevinter for a tidy sum ten years back. He 'owns' us. He's raised his hand and his magic towards Aria only a number of times, but I try to ensure that the majority of his monstrous behavior is aimed at me. The day he…" She paused to swallow, not finishing her statement. "I don't know why the assassins attacked you, but considering the way she took off like her smalls were on fire; I can imagine Aria might know something about it. The only reason I sent her away is because now is not a good time to talk about it, considering the punishment she has already suffered."

"Why didn't he use his magic on you?"

Audrienne gritted her teeth. "Mordan has plans for me, I assure you. He chooses not to mar the flesh he intends to feast on later."

"Blessed Andraste…" He muttered softly, disgusted. A sick feeling settled into his gut, and for a moment he thought he might have to void the contents of his stomach. Hawke could not stop the surge of anger that threatened to undermine his self control at the understanding what she intimated by her words. Slavery was bad enough, but if her words to be believed, Mordan was the worst kind of slaver. In that moment, he thanked whatever gods watched over them that he had not brought any of the others with him, namely Fenris. He could only imagine what would have transpired.

"Your sister…"

"Intact, but only because Mordan is far too preoccupied with me. Unfortunately, I fear it may not always be that way. No matter how hard I try, the eventuality is that he will turn on her if I do not get her clear of it. I would chide her for being foolish and attracting his wrath today, but perhaps some good can come of this. I need your help, Champion. We need your help. Mordan Cartwright is selling citizens of Kirkwall to places like the Imperium and Orlais, and he's also been smuggling people into Kirkwall. There's slave trade going on under the noses of the city guard and the Templars. The Coterie, the Carta; Apostates and Templars; these aren't the only things this city needs to worry about. Mordan and his brother Leander are not going to stop on their own. Someone needs to take them down, and I can think of no one better equipped to deal with them than you." She straightened up, her hands dropping to her sides. "Mordan has a drinking and a gambling problem, I might be able to entice him to the tavern of your choice. There, if he gets involved enough in his drink and his pleasure, we should be able to find time to meet with you. Then you can feel free to question Aria about what she saw and what she knows."

Hawke nodded in understanding. "One of my companions has a private room at the Hanged Man. I will arrange for us all to be there. Something needs to be done about this."

They arranged a meeting, and then Audrienne slipped inside the darkened estate without a look back. On his way home, Hawke had to resist the urge to turn around and go back, to face the slaver now when he was asleep and at his weakest, to give him a taste of his own medicine.