AN: Next installment of Snapshots.

Warnings for this section: Spiders. And Blood Magic. And Carver leering. You know, nothing major.

Game mechanics altered/ignored to make for a better story. Varric would vouch for me on this. There is also a slight nod to Sten from the first Dragon Age game.

Note: I can't remember the name of the reviewer who requested the 'choreographing dances' in the mansion, but I'll consider it. ^_^


He honestly didn't care one way or another about the mission that sent them to the Dalish camp on Sundermount. He didn't like being in the middle of a camp full of elves who had nearly shot them on sight, but then again, it was rather nice to be out in the open, away from the smells of the city, nice to stretch his legs, slay a few trigger-happy bandits, and just enjoy the trip as much as he could. After all, they might never see this particular place again, so it was rather nice to soak up the scenery.

"So, care to say why we just risked the wrath of the Dalish? Or is it a secret between just you and the Keeper? Hawke, have you been hiding something from me?" Varric asked innocently.

"Yes Varric, my darling dwarf," Hawke replied with a smile. "She is actually my grandmother, and I'm now on a quest to prove myself so the clan will accept me as one of their own, and after that happens I plan to go gallivanting through the rest of the Free Marches, bringing the wrath of the Dales to anyone who oppresses elves, enslaves freemen, or even steals the cookies from fat, slovenly children."

"And they call you the bull shit artist," Carver said from behind him, glancing down at the dwarf fondly.

Varric sighed dramatically, and hugged his crossbow tighter. "Ah, who do you think taught her? Oh Bianca," he sniffed. "They grow up so fast."

"It's that amulet," Fenris stated.

The group fell silent, turning as one to stare at him. He almost (almost!) fidgeted under their combined gazes. "What? Did I say that in Tevinter?"

"What makes you think it's the amulet?" Hawke asked, digging her chin into the high collar of her hood as the wind picked up.

"Because you've always had it on you, and you showed it to the Keeper," Fenris shrugged. "I thought that you didn't come up here for just a social call."

Hawke chuckled, turning back towards their path and leading the way. "Well, you don't miss much, do you?"

"Not if I can help it."

"I wonder why you've been watching me so intently. Do I intrigue you so?"

"Indeed you do. I'm waiting for you to start glowing and screaming about taking power from 'foolish mortals'."

"Ah. Sorry to disappoint you Fenris. Shall I try harder the next time we come across a Desire Demon?"

"Wouldn't a Pride Demon be better?"

"Perhaps, but a Desire Demon could at least give me very nice fantasies," Hawke laughed. She turned and looked at him, eyes bright and dancing with mischief. "Hm…let's see. A field of flowers, beautiful weather, and you doing a jig with a big smile on your face. You'd make all the women the world over happy."

Fenris didn't have a comeback for that, but Carver spoke up.

"Sister, please stop with the silliness."

"Would you rather I tried to do something 'smoldering' and 'dirty'? I bet I could do it if I tried."

"Please Maker no."

"Oh, all right. Oh, and watch out behind you. There's a giant spider that's been stalking you for the past minute, and I think it's getting impatient."

With a shout from Carver, the party leapt into action.

Another mile, and several more dead spiders later, they came across the Keeper's First. Fenris was already uneasy because the girl was obviously another mage. Hawke, naturally, didn't seem to mind, and she chatted with their guide as they continued onward. Carver seemed to be of Fenris' mind, and was scowling unrelentingly at the elf's back.

"Well, she's a rather cute thing, isn't she Broodmeister?"

"What?" "I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry," Varric apologized. "That was aimed for Carver, not you Elf."

Fenris tried to focus on the scenery, watching for more ambushes by spiders, but he did keep one ear tuned in to Varric and Carver.

"She is cute. Hmm…I think I'll call her Daisy. So, when are you going to ask her for a drink?"

"I-I…what?"

"Oh please. I can see the look in your eye. Puppy eyes. Little Carver is making puppy eyes at the wee elf girl-"

"Careful Carver," Fenris said, watching the two mages ahead of them ramble on. "Get too close and she might eat your soul."

"I doubt it, though I might be tempted to let her have it if she smiled and laughed more."

Fenris jerked his head around to stare at Carver. "You can't be serious."

"I doubt you are a celibate man Fenris," Carver smirked. He motioned at the smaller form ahead. "Can't you agree, at least appearance wise, she is a tempting creature? Those eyes, that hair, that skin…"

Fenris turned and looked at the other elf (Merrill, he reminded himself). He could see where Carver was coming from, but his eyes kept slipping to Hawke.

He couldn't help it. He found her vastly more interesting than some chatty naïve Dalish elf. What was it that made her tick? He had thought he had a measure of mages; mages sought power. Mages would do anything to reach that pinnacle. Mages were inherently more dangerous than the most seasoned warrior. Demons easily swayed them to do horrible things.

Yet this one…granted, he had not been around her that much or that long, but what he had seen made him pause, made him almost want to relax in her presence. She did not seem to mind his wariness, or that he was essentially squatting in Hightown while she and her family took shelter in Lowtown with a relative. Most humans (not just mages) would have been upset by that. She…was not. As far as he could tell, anyway.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the glint of metal, and he was charging forward before he knew what he was doing, but it was too late.

Instead of turning the knife on Hawke, Merrill turned it on herself. A large cloud of blood welled up and was absorbed by a wall of blue magical energy that faded, sated on the offered blood.

A blood mage.

He and Carver both looked at each other, then at Hawke. "Oh, this will not end well," Carver muttered.

Again, he had not been acquainted with her for long, but he still felt surprised when she slowly lowered her hood, and turned to the elf with a look that was both cold and furious.

Fenris was used to seeing anger explode from mages, was used to seeing it consume not only the mage it started from, but also consume the victims as well.

He was…unsure of the anger that Hawke showed the elf witch. Her words, normally easy, light, and almost rolling, were very clipped, harsh, and cold. She did not raise her voice, did not gesture angrily. In fact, you could almost claim she was being serious for the first time since Fenris had met her.

He stared.

He had been in her company on and off for a few weeks before she dragged him out of his mansion that early morning, and he had apparently never seen her truly angry. Frustrated, irritated, yes. Angry?

If the sparks dancing out from her head were any indication, she was truly pissed.

"Carver!"

The command reached them clearly, causing all three males to jump. Carver took a few steps forward, eyeing Hawke's now-frizzing and sparking hair nervously. "…yes?"

"Do we have enough lyrium potions to share with our friend here and still have some left-over?"

Carver rolled his eyes, but pulled his pack off his back, rummaging around inside to check its' contents.

"Unless we fight an army of monstrous spiders, we should be good. Why?"

"I just want to be sure our friend here doesn't lose power too quickly so she doesn't have to resort to desperate measures."

With that said, Hawke whipped around, and headed higher up Sundermount, the now-sheepish elf girl following behind quickly.

The male trio looked at each other, shrugged, and followed. It was silent for a while, the chattering between the girls having picked up once more.

"…does she often spark like that?" Fenris finally asked. He couldn't contain himself any longer; he'd never seen a mage do that, unless they had been zapped or were building up power to unleash it on their victim. Hawke, obviously, had done neither.

Carver sighed. "The last time she did it that badly was when I told her crush that she liked him, and then proceeded to beat the shit out of him when he expressed interest."

Fenris and Varric shared a look, one that Carver immediately picked up on. "What? What's with that look?"

"You…really are an idiot, aren't you Carver?" Varric ventured.

"Of course not," Carver said lightly. "I made my sister stop beating around the bush, I found out his intentions, and I neutralized the threat. Problem solved."

"And she…got mad?"

"Oh yes," Carver said, smiling ruefully. "I still have the marks."

"She unleashed her power on you when she was emotionally upset?" Fenris asked sharply. Perhaps he had misjudged Hawke after all. He had thought her cheerful, calm, collected. But if she attacked her own brother-

"Fenris, she was ten. It hurt, but it wasn't lethal."

"…Oh."

Several hours and one powerful witch later, he found himself trailing behind the group as usual, only this time with an eager form in tow.

"I can't wait to get to the city! To see all the people, animals, and oh the Elves! I've heard about Alienages, but to see it and live it firsthand will be exciting!"

"You made Hawke mad."

Merrill's chatter halted abruptly. "I…I did, didn't I? She doesn't seem to like Blood Magic. Can't imagine why."

"I can imagine a few good reasons," Fenris muttered under his breath.

"Blood magic is like any other magic; it can be used properly, or it can be abused," Merrill said.

Fenris slowly turned and gave her a hard, penetrating stare.

He had to give the girl credit; she fidgeted, but didn't look away from him. That was something.

"I imagine that Hawke had a bad experience with Blood magic," he intoned after another moment, turning to glance at their leader, who was picking some elfroot. "Since you showed me a side of her I haven't had the privilege to see yet, I'll warn you now; the Templars of Kirkwall show no mercy to Blood mages. You would do well to give it up, permanently."

Merrill seemed to be considering his words, turning to look at where he was looking. A frown formed on her face, but it disappeared when she turned back to Fenris and offered a sketch of a bow. "Thank you Fenris, I shall remember that." Without another word, she skipped ahead to Hawke, and the chatter began again.

It wasn't until they reached the gates of Kirkwall that he was stopped mid-step by Hawke's loud comment.

"Fenris? What's this Merrill's telling me about you wishing to see many sides of me? Shall I turn around and around slowly so you can enjoy the show and the goods?"

He disappeared into the city, neck burning and his ears ringing with Carver's roars of outrage and Varric's laughter.