"What is this, a joke?" Bartrand spat. He crossed his arms, giving a sideways glance to the strangers standing with Varric in the Hightown Market. Varric noted that his brother's displeasure was rather obvious, and knew immediately Bartrand was going to try and pull one over on them.

"These are my men," Varric said, gesturing a dramatic hand toward Bethany and Hawke. "This is who I will be bringing to the expedition."

"Men, my ass," the dwarf said with an angry wave of his hand. "One of them's a woman!"

Varric coughed in his hand to keep himself from pointing out that Bartrand was only half right.

"What's your point, Bartrand?" Varric asked. "As your partner, I'm bringing in my own team. My three versus your… how many? Twenty?"

"Well, maybe I don't need your three anymore," Bartrand replied. "I don't know how you managed to get the Hawk to kowtow to you, if that is indeed the real Hawk, but I have plenty of manpower without you."

"You know you can't run this rig by yourself, Bartrand. Don't try to lift up my skirt and tell me it's windy."

"Your skirt isn't the one I'm interested in," Bartrand said, giving Bethany a sideways glance.

"You're lucky that I respect Varric," Bethany said with a flirtatious sway of her hips, "else I'd boil your skin right off your face."

"Don't worry, Sunshine," Varric cooed. "He's all bark."

"Listen, Varric, if you and your… freak show want in on the expedition, you are going to have to bring in a little something other than a pair of blades and a pair of tits."

Varric put his hand up when Bethany went to protest again. "Like what?" he asked instead.

"Like money," Bartrand replied. "I'm funding this whole thing by myself. You want to be a partner, Varric? You're going to have to start acting like it. The fact that you're my brother doesn't get you a free pass anymore. You and your two… friends… come up with seventy-five sovereigns and—"

"Seventy-five sovereigns?!" Bethany blurted.

"Yes, seventy-five. That's twenty-five apiece. If the Hawk is as good as everyone seems to say he is, that should be pocket change."

Bartrand ran his eyes up Hawke's lithe form. She stood defiantly with her arms crossed and her weight on her back foot. Bartrand squinted to try and see under Hawke's hood, and Varric watched as she took her cue beautifully. She leveled her gaze at him, narrowing her frigid, yellow eyes ever-so-slightly. Bartrand cleared his throat and averted his eyes in an attempt to look unshaken, but Varric knew better. There was nothing he loved quite as much as watching Bartrand squirm.

"Anyway," Bartrand continued, suddenly very interested in dusting invisible dirt off his pants. "There is still plenty of time. We need a way into the Deep Roads still, so you have until I find one to come up with the coin."

"You drive a hard bargain, brother," Varric said, motioning for the girls to follow him, "but you have yourself a deal."

The trio managed to keep their composure the entire walk back to the Hanged Man before falling into their chairs in defeated slumps.

"Seventy-five sovereigns," Bethany said, more to herself than her party. "If we had that kind of coin, we wouldn't need Bartrand's idiotic expedition."

"I'll have much more free time since our servitude to Athenril is done," Hawke offered, pulling her mask down around her neck, "but even then... I'm good, but I don't know if I'm 'seventy-five-sovereigns' good."

"We might not need that much," Varric said, rubbing his eyes with a forefinger and thumb.

"I knew it," Bethany said, clapping her hands together. "You have a plan."

"Don't I always?" he asked, tossing her one of his smiles.

"I'm atwitter with anticipation," Hawke drawled, leaning her head on her hand.

"I have a lead I might have to chase down," he said, resting his elbows on the table, "but I think I can find a way into the Deep Roads. If we can bring that to Bartrand, I have a hunch he'll be a little lenient on the price of admission."

"You think he'll go for that?" Bethany asked.

"He'd be a fool not to," Varric said with a shrug. "Until I can figure that out, we'll just have to pilfer and steal what we can."

"You know, you could always take honest work," Bethany offered.

"Honest work doesn't pay quite as well," Hawke said with a smirk.

Bethany gave her sister a less-than-amused quirk of her eyebrows.

"We won't turn down honest work, Sunshine," Varric interrupted, "but it doesn't really seem to find its way to us quite as often."

"Might I remind you," Hawke said, propping an elbow up on the table and leaning toward Bethany, "the Blooming Rose is honest work."

Bethany clicked her tongue and narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

"That's what I thought."


Hawke had a hard time getting a proper reading on Anso. Normally she would have assumed he was lying and berated him for the truth if he wanted their help, but Varric had assured them that Anso's jittery behavior was nothing more than top-side sickness.

Since they started collecting coin for the Deep Roads expedition they had added two to their merry party. A mage that used to be a grey warden—Anders was his name—who had a map of the Deep Road's they'd be able to use. Then there was the elf girl, Merrill, who they somehow managed to get saddled with. What had started as a trip to the Wounded Coast to finish with the task the Witch of the Wilds had given them turned into being hired as full-time blood mage sitters.

There were precious few things Hawke and Bethany hated more than blood mages, considering they were exactly the reason Bethany had to hide all the time. It turned out, though, that Merrill was impossible not to like, kind-hearted thing that she was, so she came along on their missions more frequently as time went on. She was certainly more fun to have around than the depressing mage. Hawke still didn't trust either of them, however, so she decided it was in the party's best interests to keep her identity, and gender, a secret.

Better for them to fear her than to give them the chance to betray her.

Hawke, along with Bethany, Varric, and Merrill, said their farewells to Anso and made their way down into the Alienage to fetch whatever was in this chest for their new — less than sane — employer.

Her comrades all entered the shack without a second thought, following Varric as he took the lead, per usual. Hawke stopped in the doorway when that all-too-familiar feeling that she was being watched crept up her spine. She turned around, slowly, and scanned her surroundings. She saw a flash of silver duck into the shadows on the rooftops across the square. Someone was watching them, and it wasn't Anso. She pretended not to see anything and turned to duck into the hut, shutting the door behind her.

"Varric," she whispered into his ear as he tried to open the chest. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"What kind of bad feeling? 'It's a trap' bad feeling? Or 'we're not getting paid' bad feeling?"

"Someone was watching us out there, so I imagine both."

The lock on the chest clicked and Varric pulled up the top, revealing nothing but dust.

"Sodding waste of my damned time," Varric cursed to himself, kicking the chest.

"What happened?" Bethany said, poking her head in from the other room.

"There's nothing in the chest," Varric spat.

"Oh, that's too bad," Merrill said. "At least it's good practice, no?"

All three turned to stare at her.

"Umm… or not," she corrected.

"Nothing in the chest means we've walked ourselves into a damned trap," Varric continued, lowering his gaze so that it fell onto the ground in front of his feet. Hawke noticed the change in Varric since they started bringing the newcomers along. When it had been just himself, Bethany, and Hawke, he would be the snarky wordsmith that they knew and loved. Now that he was leading not just them but Anders and Merrill also, Hawke could see that he felt the weight of every decision much more pointedly.

"Why would Anso want to trap us?" Bethany asked.

"Yes," Merrill added. "We haven't done anything. Lately, anyway. I mean, that I know of."

"It doesn't matter why, Daisy. What matters is how we get out of it."

Hawke stayed silent, but got everyone's attention with a wave of her hand. She ran her hand back and forth across her throat, directing the gesture towards Bethany.

"What's he saying?" Merrill asked.

"No magic," Bethany clarified. "If it's a trap, we don't know who has set it or if they know we're mages."

Hawke pointed at her as if to confirm what she was saying.

"He said all that?"

"Eh… kind of."

"Alright let's get the hell out of here," Varric said, taking Bianca off his back. "Show time."


Fenris watched from the rooftop as the hunters filtered into the Alienage, surrounding the small hut that contained Varric and his crew. Fenris had heard about them in the time he'd been hiding out in Kirkwall's undercity. Varric was their leader and often had seemingly random people in tow. However, it was rare to see Varric out and about without his pet Hawk. It was rumored that the Hawk was Varric's shadow come alive. The man didn't speak, didn't smile, he barely even existed. It was all ridiculous, of course, but it was good to finally see the men behind the foolish myths circulating through the city. Fenris, even with his sharp, elven eyes, couldn't really get a good look at them from across the square, but the bright yellow of the Hawk's eyes were hard to miss. They peered out from under his hood, catching flecks of the moonlight as he peered around before he turned to follow his comrades into the shack.

Now they were all surrounded, and Fenris was the reason for it. He hoped silently that they were as good as the rumors said they were. He had enough innocent lives on his conscience; he didn't need more.

He watched three of the four come out of the hut and stand before the mob. Varric, with the two women behind him, leaned on his back foot, casually exchanging banter with the hunters. He couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but Fenris knew when someone was stalling for time. To their credit, even he with his birds-eye-view didn't see the Hawk come up behind the mob to start systematically, and silently, killing them off. One of his hands would cover the targets mouth, the other would quickly pull his dagger across their throat; then he would slowly lower the corpse to the ground. He was utterly silent and amazingly quick.

The rogue managed to take seven of the hunters down before Varric's stalling failed and the open melee began. Fenris had intended to jump down and help them fell the rest of the mob, but his ears twitched as he heard the sound of metal clanking behind him. He turned to see another, smaller group of hunters heading toward the steps. Varric and his party were handling the current mob quite efficiently, so Fenris took it upon himself to jump down and surprise this new group.

Fenris made rather quick work of the smaller group of men, there were only nine or ten. When he finished he heard the supposed leader of them around the corner. He assumed the human was addressing Varric and his crew, since it didn't make sense for him to have been talking to his own soldiers so viciously.

"Your men are dead," Fenris said, coming around the corner to stand at the top of the steps, "and your trap has failed. Run back to your master while you still have the chance."

The soldier turned around to address Fenris, crossing his arms and chewing on his words.

"I'm not going anywhere without you, slave," he said, turning his head to spit on the ground.

"Most unwise," Fenris said, feeling that familiar anger building in him. "I implore you to reconsider, for your own good."

"Or what?" the soldier said with a laugh, unsheathing his sword. "Does the slave think he can—"

His words were cut off by a gurgling sound deep in his throat.

The man's heart was still beating in Fenris' hand as the corpse fell upon the Alienage steps.

"I am not a slave," Fenris growled quietly before taking a deep breath and forcing the electricity in his markings to fade away.

When Fenris looked up, the four strangers were all staring back at them. He took their stunned silence as an opportunity to get a good look at each of them standing at the bottom of the steps. The women, a human and a Dale, both stared at the heart in his hand with a combination of confusion and horror. Varric seemed mildly curious but was obviously more annoyed than anything else. The Hawk, on the other hand, was the only one of the group looking at Fenris' face. The rogue's eyes were narrowed to angry slits, and the weight of his gaze was unnerving. Even though the man's eyes were gold with flecks of orange, Fenris was quite sure it was the most frigid gaze he had ever received.

In that moment, the only thing Fenris knew for a fact was that the Hawk was not one to be trifled with.

"I… apologize," Fenris said as he let the bloody organ slip from his hand. "When I had enlisted a distraction, I had no idea the hunters would be so… numerous."

"So you're who they were looking for?" the Dalish girl asked.

"I am."

"Distraction," Varric repeated. "So was all of this 'job' bullshit?"

"Not all," Fenris assured. "Your employer simply was not who you thought. My name is Fenris. These men were imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover their magister's lost property."

"That's what all this is?" Varric asked, exasperated. "A slave hunt?"

"Seems like an awful lot of effort to bring back one slave," the human girl offered.

"Yes, it is, but I was no ordinary slave."

"Obviously," the elven girl said with a laugh. "I've never seen Vallaslin light up like that before."

"These are not Dalish blood writing," Fenris snapped, gesturing a hand toward his throat. "But your inference is correct. They are the reason my former master hunts me."

"Yes, yes, you're a glowing mystery," Varric said, waving a hand, "but I don't appreciate being lied to. Well, at least not about money."

"If you are able, and willing, I would enlist your help further. Danarius is currently in this city, and I must reach him before he finds that his retrieval attempt has failed. I will pay you what coin I have immediately afterward."

"What will you do when we find him?" the Dale asked.

"I will take my freedom," he replied coldly. "By force."

"Killing a Magister," Varric said, scratching the top of his head. "That sounds like an awful lot of trouble."

Varric looked up at the Hawk as if waiting for an answer to a question that wasn't asked.

"He's a former slave fighting for his freedom," the human girl said, looking to the rogue. "We all know how you feel about slavery."

The rogue exhaled through his nose, still not taking his eyes off Fenris' face. After a few dramatic moments of silence he looked down at the dwarf and nodded, so slightly Fenris wondered if he had done it at all.

For simply being an employee, this rogue seemed to hold an awful lot of sway.

"Very well, Starshine," Varric said. "Looks like we're in. I'm Varric Tethras, Merchant Prince of Kirkwall."

"I'm Merrill," the Dale said with a childish wave. "Nice to meet you, Fenris."

"Bethany."

The Hawk stayed silent and immovable.

"Oh right. This is Hawke," Varric said, pointing a thumb up at the rogue. "Doesn't talk much, this one."

"I have heard the rumors," Fenris offered.

"Have you? Excellent," Varric said — seeming a little more prideful than Fenris thought he should have been — before turning to Merril. "Daisy, why don't you run on home since we're already so close. I trust you can find your way back from the Alienage steps?"

"Please, Varric," the girl said. "I can see my house from here. I'm not that bad at finding my way, am I?"

"Eh, no comment."

Fenris thanked them as he knelt to rifle through one of the dead hunters things. He promised them that he would repay them somehow, knowing full well the coin he had would certainly not be enough. Once he found the address of Danrius' hiding place, they set off for Hightown.

He stayed mostly quiet on the journey, observing his new companions. It was much like what he observed in the Alienage; the dwarf lead, chattering away with Bethany, and Hawke followed from behind. Instead of merely bringing up the rear, he made a point of keeping in step with Fenris.

Hawke was weighing him, and Fenris found he was anxious about the man's final judgment.

He noted that the rogue was of much smaller stature than most human men Fenris had experience with. Hawke was lithe, wiry, and a few inches shorter than him. He kept trying to figure out what about the man was so unsettling, but he couldn't put his finger on it; before he could, the dwarf had interrupted his train of thought.

"So," Varric said. "I could stand to know more about this magister whose face we're about to maul."

"Danarius is a magister of the Tevinter Imperium."

"Oh, is that all?" Varric drawled. "So, nothing to worry about then."

"His power means nothing here," Fenris assured. "He is but a man, who sweats like any other when death comes for him."

"His power must mean something if he can send a squadron of his own personal bounty hunters to set a trap for one slave."

"Speaking of which," Fenris said, perking up as the thought crossed his mind, "what was in the chest that served as the trap?"

"It was sodding empty," Varric spat. "Like my pockets."

Fenris didn't say anything, just exhaled a slow breath and looked to the side. Of course it was empty; Danarius would never risk losing the scroll, no matter how sure he was that a trap would work. He was a fool for daring to expect anything more.

"What were you expecting to be in it?" Bethany asked, voicing the question they were all thinking, no doubt.

"It doesn't matter," he admitted, putting his hands behind his back. "I should have known better in the first place. It was bait, nothing more."

When Fenris turned back toward the party, Hawke's eyes were hanging on him. He was unused to being unable to read someone's intentions, and he found it rather annoying. A life of servitude made anticipating people's needs and true agenda's second nature to Fenris. Thusly he had learned to hide his feelings behind a mask of aloofness, keeping his expression always steady and calm. Letting people know what stirred your emotions was merely giving them ammunition to use against you.

He wondered what it was that Hawke was hiding from.

He knew a thing or two about hiding.

As he listened to the sound of their footsteps echoing through the silence, he realized that, of the four of them, he only heard three sets of footsteps; the dwarf's heavy ones, the girl's dainty ones, and his own. He looked down at Hawke's feet and saw that they were tightly wrapped in a similar material to the rest of his leathery gear. He took slow, wide, silent steps.

It was a well-known fact that elves possessed better hearing than humans, and oftentimes this very thing was the difference that allowed Fenris to escape an ambush. Perhaps the rumors were true and the human was little more than a shadow. Whatever Hawke was, Fenris knew it would be unwise to show the man his back.


"I should have known," Fenris sneered, punching a hole through one of the walls of the mansion. "Coward that he is, I should have known he wouldn't be here." He turned to briefly address his companions, turning just enough that he could see them over his shoulder. "Take whatever you can find, it means nothing to me." With that he stomped down the stairs and out the side door.

"Well," Hawke said, bringing her mask down. "Anything good?"

"Plenty," Varric said, stuffing a few choice trinkets in his pockets. "Just enough to make this venture worthwhile."

"Praise the Maker for that, then," Bethany added. "What do you think of the elf?"

Hawke exhaled. "I certainly don't want to enter a moping contest with him, that's for certain."

"Absolutely," Varric affirmed. "Elf does enough brooding for the lot of us."

"Between him and Anders, we're going to have to hold a contest to see who can ruin a party faster. Though, I'll admit that they're useful, if nothing else."

Varric laughed. "I can see it now. The Plight of the Mages Versus the Plight of the Slaves: A Drama in Three Acts!"

"Emphasis on the drama," Hawke added.

"Well… say what you will," Bethany said. "At least they're nice to look at."

"Honestly, girl," Hawke teased, pulling her mask back up. "Keep your skirts on. I don't trust either of them."

"Obviously," she retorted. "As long as they both think you're sporting the same equipment as them twixt your legs, I think it's safe to assume that you don't trust them."

"Har-har."


Mages. Could he never escape them? Was Fenris forever doomed to live in the shadow of their magic? Now he'd found himself indebted to a group of one mage and her mage sympathizers. What had he done to earn such disdain from the universe?

The sound of the party exiting the mansion interrupted his thoughts.

"It never ends," he said, turning to face them. "Hunted by their dark magic at every turn, tortured by their whims, only to find myself once again in the company of mages."

"You do know I'm right here," Bethany said, cocking out a hip. "You can talk directly to me."

"Do not hide what you are, apostate. I saw your magic."

"You forget, slave, that it is not I who is hiding."

Fenris sneered and pointed a threatening finger in Bethany's face, but turned to address Varric.

"You harbor a viper in your midst," he swore. "It is not to be trusted and will turn on you when you least expect it, mark my words."

"Funny how easy it is to complain, now that you don't need me to heal your sorry, glowing hide."

"I am not blind, apostate. I understand magic has its uses, but even the strongest mage can fall prey to blood magic. Then what happens when you give into its call? What happens when you turn into a burden for the rest of us to bear? What happens when it is your family that pays the price?"

Fenris saw the words hurt the mage, but that was all he managed to see before Hawke's fist plunged into his face. He slammed into the wall behind him, and didn't even have a chance to react before the paper thin blade was pressed into the flesh of his throat. He clenched his jaw to keep himself from reacting.

The rogue's eyes looked like fire under the force of his rage. The orange around his pupils had spread, overtaking the bright gold of his irises.

"It's fine," Bethany said, putting a hand on Hawke's shoulder.

"Listen, Starlight," Varric lilted. "I don't think I need to tell you that it's a bad move to insult Hawke's sister, but allow me to remind you that it was you who asked for our help and you who brought us here."

Bethany was Hawke's sister. Interesting.

"I… imagine I seem ungrateful." He exhaled a slow breath and met Hawke's eyes again. "That is not my intention, I apologize. It could not be further from the truth."

The rogue's eyes darted back and forth between Fenris'— as if weighing whether or not to believe him— before pulling the blade away from his throat and taking a step back.

"That's nice, we're all friends," Varric said with a sarcastic clap of his hands. "Now, does someone want to explain to me what the hell is going on? What's with the hissy fit? What makes you so valuable that an army of blood mages is sent to recapture you?"

"And when do I get paid?" Bethany added in her best Varric impression.

"You wound me, Sunshine. Am I not allowed to care for the plight of a slave who fought tooth and nail for his freedom, only to be down trodden and hunted the rest of his days?"

Hawke rolled his eyes.

Fenris' ears twitched and he quirked a brow in confusion.

"He likes to tell stories," Bethany clarified.

"And since you brought it up," Varric continued, "when am I going to get paid?"

"Well, Danarius or no, I owe you all a debt," Fenris said, taking the small purse from his belt and tossing it to Varric. "It's not much, but it's all I have."

Varric caught it gladly, bouncing it in his hand to check its weight before putting it in his pocket.

"I'm still confused as to why this Danarius wants you back so badly," Bethany said.

"He doesn't want me, per say," Fenris added. He held out his hand and turned it palm up, revealing the intricate markings up his arm. "These are not tattoos, at least not in the sense that you know them. They are etchings inked in lyrium. When they glow, as you have seen, they give off power that Danarius could manipulate, making me a sort of… portable source of renewable magic."

The silence from the party made him uncomfortable, so he continued.

"I would wager that he regrets his decision now, however, as it gave me the power I needed to escape."

"That's… horrible," Bethany said. Fenris made note of how quickly the girl's emotions could change.

"So these markings," Varric said, stroking his chin. "They're valuable?"

Before Fenris could say anything Hawke coughed into his own hand in an attempt to cover up how he stomped on the dwarf's toes.

"Yes," Fenris said, quirking a confused brow in Hawke's direction. He wondered why the rogue seemed to have such distaste for the question. "I imagine the only reason he hunts me still is to get them back."

"Can he do that?" Bethany asked.

"Blood mages feel they can do anything in the Tevinter Imperium. The magisters there hold all the power; over the Chantry, the Templars, and the people. As such, they can do what they wish to their property, slaves especially."

"Well," Varric said through his teeth, clenching them against the pain in his foot. "Glad we were able to help."

"I know that coin can scarcely cover what I owe you, so if you have need of me you can find me here."

"You're going to stay here?" Bethany asked. "In this dingy old house?"

"Indeed," he said, looking up at the mansion. "I shall stay and wait for Danarius. If he wishes to have it back, let him come and claim it."

"It might be good to have someone who can hold a sword on the Deep Roads expedition," Varric said.

"The Deep Roads?" Fenris asked.

"Aye. We have an expedition planned and might have use for you."

"Well, if that be the case, you will likely find me here."

Bethany and Varric both nodded as a farewell before turning and making their way to the Hightown steps. Hawke, however, lingered; his arms still crossed against his chest, his cold, golden eyes still scrutinizing Fenris' face. Finally, the human exhaled a breath and turned to follow his companions into Hightown.

Fenris exhaled a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. He did not trust these people, Hawke especially; but if Danarius ever did come back to this mansion, Fenris could do worse than to have a few companions willing to fight with him. The one thing he could say about Hawke was that, in a fight, he was a force to be reckoned with.

A high-pitched whistle snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up to find Hawke still in view, walking backwards away from Fenris so he could still see his face. The rogue tossed a small item toward him. Fenris held out his hands and clumsily caught it against his chest. He looked down into his palms and saw the small satchel of coin Fenris had given Varric. In fact, it was the exact same pouch. He'd barely seen Hawke move, none the less take this pouch away from the dwarf. When had he done it? Forget when… why?

He looked back up to ask that very question only to find that the man had completely disappeared.

"*Quid ego possedi ipsa ana?*" he cursed to himself.

*What have I gotten myself into?*


**Thank you all for the wonderful responses and comments. Your feedback literally keeps me going. I love you guys.**