I would very much like to apologize for not updating in so long, I was suffering from a massive writer's block that had me handicapped for a whole agonizingly long month, but I managed to murder the offending adversary, chopped him into many tiny pieces, burn said pieces, buried the ashes sixty feet under, and spat on its grave.

So hopefully it won't come back to haunt me at a later date.

Now that I got the more violent part of the author's note out of the way, I would like to thank each and every one of you people who either reviewed, favored, story-alerted, or some combination of the three for inspiring me to not give up despite the writer's block, I would never had survived that ordeal without your reviews reminding me that somebody out there actually likes the weird stuff that comes out of my head.

And a very special thanks to my beta and friend on this site, Hatsepsut. I never would have even begun to type fanfiction if it weren't for your own stories inspiring me to remember my password.

Now enough of all the thanks and stuff, let's get to what you clicked on that link for.

Bioware owns dragon age and all related characters, I don't, if I had then Fenris and Merrill would be straight, not Bi, and Anders would have been a million times less whiney and annoying.

Warning: Drama, Anders perspective, and abnormally happy Merchants

Chapter 4

Merrill ran like the Dread Wolf was chasing her; in a sense he was. She ran until her feet were sore and her bones ached, but she willed herself forward, not daring to think of what might happen if they got caught.

She thought about the slaves, and hoped that there were at least some that survived and got away; but she knew that was unlikely.

At that she glared at Fenris who was running ahead of her. In the six years she's known him he's called her a filthy blood mage, a monster, a Maleficar, a witch, a magister-in-training. Sure, she was the one that had casted the spell, but he was the one that had ordered it, knowing full well that she wouldn't think ahead in the heat of battle.

She soon heard the sound of shouting men behind them, likely the slavers. So she double timed it; adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Merrill ran so fast that she didn't have time to register the ground beneath her feet. Her whole body was chilled to the bone by the nighttime air that she raced through after having been drenched from the swim across the Minanter River; but she dared not stop.

In fact, she ran so fast that she didn't notice the dead hollowed out log that Fenris had expertly leapt over and tripped, landing hard on the forest floor.

Fenris quickly stopped when he heard the sound of light slapping noises that informed him that Merrill was keeping up being replaced with a squeaky noise like that of a mouse, then a hard thud, quickly followed by the sound of Merrill gasping out in pain. The warrior turned around to find the Dalish on the ground clutching her right ankle in pain, her face scrunched up in agony.

"I think I twisted my ankle," Merrill admitted, getting a frustrated growled from Fenris, for an elf that grew up in the forest almost the entirety of her life, she has a nasty habit of being a klutz at the most inconvenient of times, the male elf thought begrudgingly.

The sound of shouting increased significantly as the slavers neared their location; and from the looks of things Merrill was in no position to continue running.

The thought of leaving Merrill behind flashed promisingly through his mind; she could even slow the slavers down a bit if she fought back. But he quickly decided against that as Hawke and the others wouldn't help him with Danarius if they found out that he left the blood mage as bait for the slavers.

Resentfully, he ran over and roughly grabbed Merrill by the arms, only to have the young elf struggle in protest.

"Let go of me you Dread Wolf worshiper!" Merrill screamed as she managed to yank free one of her arms, only to have the ex-slave grab the arm again.

"Just be quiet," Fenris hissed into her ear as he dragged her to the fallen log that Merrill had tripped over earlier; he then pushed her into the dead and hollow tree and climbed in with her.

The log was just wide enough for the two lithe elves to squeeze into; with Fenris on top of Merrill who was trying to shove him off until the rapid sound of heavy footsteps all around them was heard.

The elves stayed perfectly still as the slavers all ran past the log without noticing them. Only once the footsteps started to die down did Fenris turn his head to have a peak through the small hole in the log to see if they had all ran past.

It was then that a boot stepped in front of the hole out of nowhere, blocking out his view; nearly causing the normally calm elf to gasp out in shock from not expecting the leg. But he managed to catch himself before he could be heard.

The boot began to walk away from the log, giving Fenris a chance to get a better look at the slaver.

Dimly illuminated by the gentle moonlight was a figure that made Hector appear average in stature, standing at nearly six and a half feet tall, casting a foreboding shadow in the pale glow of the moon. His long black hair streaked down his back from the bottom of his wide brimmed hat to about halfway down his back.

So far the figure seemed unaware of the two elves hiding place, as he simply reached into his large coat and pulled out a smoking pipe, placed a small pinch of tobacco from a pouch on his belt into the end of the pipe and lit it with a match.

Fenris didn't take his eyes off of the man as he felt Merrill raise her head to get a look at what he was looking at out of curiosity.

Merrill's eyes widened in horror as she noticed the two bastard swords on the tall man's back, causing her to wonder if he could wield both at the same time or not, then quickly decided that that was something she really didn't want to find out about.

Eventually the man started to walk away. Even though he was there for only a few minutes, it felt like an eternity for the elves.

Fenris and Merrill laid there long after the man had escaped their sight; neither willing to risk getting caught while the slavers continued to search for them.

V

Merrill awoke the next morning to the sensation of a crushing weight atop her. Upon opening her eyes she realized that she and Fenris had both fallen asleep inside the log.

The former slave was still on top of her like he was last night. At first she just stared at his sleeping form, but then memories of last night flashed through her mind as she recalled what he had forced her to do to the other slaves, rage beginning to fill up inside her.

The dalish mage began to shake Fenris awake to no avail; in fact, he subconsciously started to squeeze a little tighter around her, causing her to panic inside; the possibility of him waking up to find her in his arms and suddenly killing her in a blind rage all too likely in her mind.

The confined space, and the crushing weight atop her was making her feel claustrophobic, terrified, and oddly, warm despite the fact that it was early morning in mid-autumn. She should be freezing, but it was getting pretty warm in the log, that part she couldn't figure out.

Merrill started to try and squirm her way out from under Fenris hoping not to wake him; though that hope was shattered as she had hardly moved two inches until the sleeping elf atop her started to stir.

"Ughh… what?" Fenris said drowsily as he slowly opened his eyes halfway.

"Can you get off please," Merrill said sternly, trying to contain her anger towards him for tricking her into killing a couple dozen of innocent elves.

Once Fenris' eyes focused on Merrill's face they quickly widened in the sudden realization of his current situation atop of her and jerked back to get away from her, only to hit his head on the log.

Despite the fact that she was pissed she couldn't help but smirk as Fenris rubbed the back of his head.

Once Fenris was done rubbing his head he got himself out of the log as quickly as elvenly possible, Merrill following soon after.

The moment Merrill tried to stand she'd quickly stumbled after putting pressure on her injured ankle; and would have hit the ground had she not managed to catch herself on the log.

Merrill glanced up to see Fenris calmly walking away without a word.

"So you're just going to leave me here; all alone in the middle of the woods with a twisted ankle!" She bellowed after the retreating elf.

At that Fenris stopped in his tracks, but refused to turn and look at her as he said, "I'm going to go find something to help you walk, unless you plan on crawling all the way back to Kirkwall."

"I'm completely capable of walking!" Merrill yelled as she stood up to try again, only to fall flat on her face after the first step.

"Yea, 'completely'," Came the sarcastic response from Fenris as he continued on, leaving a fuming Merrill who seemed pretty busy cursing at the dirt.

V

After about ten minutes of searching, Fenris had managed to find a promisingly long stick that was relatively sturdy with a length that Fenris judged to just about reach Merrill's shoulder in height and forked off at the end, making a perfect place to place her armpit over as she walked.

Confident that he had succeeded in his task, Fenris began his trek back to the log where he had left Merrill.

At the thought of the young Dalish Fenris' neutral expression turned into a scowl; the idea of having to put up with the naive blood mage for so long a journey was something he wasn't exactly looking forward to.

Once Fenris made it back to the log he was surprised to find Merrill to be nowhere in sight. At first the thought of being rid of the young elf gave a sense of relief to the ex-slave, only to remember that his companions might blame him for losing Merrill and might not help him with his former-master.

"Merrill!" Fenris bellowed as he cupped his fingers to try and project his voice farther.

V

Merrill had managed to reach a small stream in the woods not too far from the log despite her twisted ankle. Given that the area was out of sight from the log she knew Fenris wouldn't see her when he returned, and right now she just needed to be alone.

She closed her eyes to the calm peace that the gentle sound of the creek provided. She thought about the elves on the ship, about the little Da'len that was deathly terrified of her after finding out that she was a blood mage. Upon that thought Merrill opened her eyes to look in the calm water to see her reflection in the liquid, the cut on her cheek that she had used on that perverted slaver down in the ship's hold had healed, and was now a thin line of dried blood across her cheek with a few streaks traveling down from the cut to her jaw line from dripping blood.

The young elf then raised her left hand in front of her face to look at the cut she used to power that fire spell Fenris convinced her to cast on the dwarven black powder that had killed all the slaves.

Unlike most blood mages; Merrill tried to use it to help benefit her people, using it only on the Eluvian to repair it. Last night was the first time she had ever used it on another life; making her feel unclean.

Tears started to stream down her face as she thought for the first time that maybe she was in fact a monster just like Fenris claimed, that all she was capable of was destruction of everything around her.

Merrill then began to dip her injured hand under the water to clean the wound. Once she was done with the hand she had started to unwrap her scarf from around her neck and dipped the end in the water, after wringing it out of the excess water she had started using it to wipe her cheek, all in a desperate attempt to feel like she was washing away the filth that her blood magic had caused.

She didn't feel much better, but better none the less.

"Merrill!" came the sound of Fenris' voice from somewhere behind her. At first Merrill didn't respond as she looked at her reflection in the water to make sure she got all the blood off of her cheek, the visage that stared back at her devoid of the youthful energy that normally manifested on her face, replaced by eyes that were dimmed with misery, her mouth downturned as her shoulders hung loosely from their sockets with guilt.

It wasn't long after that Fenris' reflection appeared behind her own, his expression as neutral as ever.

"How could you choose to do such a thing?" Merrill asked miserably, not taking her eyes from her own reflection.

"The choice had to be made," Fenris replied impassively.

"Yea and why is that exactly? Because you want to get back to Kirkwall that badly or because you want to get as far away from Danarius as possible?" Merrill asked venomously.

"You know NOTHING of what he's like!" Fenris spat violently, causing Merrill to slam her fist at Fenris' reflection in the water before she turned around and began to stand only to fall again after putting pressure on her ankle.

"Those were innocent men women and children that didn't deserve to pay for your freedom with their lives!" she pointed out as she started to try and stand up again, only to have Fenris pick her up by the biceps, spun her around and pin her to a tree.

"I did them a favor you idiot!" he practically screamed into her face, his foul breath causing discomfort to Merrill's nose and her face to warm up.

"How is killing them a favor exactly!" Merrill inquired sternly, matching Fenris' intense anger filled gaze.

At that Fenris quickly jerked Merrill's whole body to have her head smash into the tree trunk before he explained in a disturbingly calm tone, "You have no idea what it means to be a slave, to have the state of your current wellbeing being solely dependent on a cruel man whether you liked it or not. You have no idea what the ritual was like, to feel incomprehensible pain that forced you into a world of so much agony that time is not a factor, were you wished with all your might that you would die from the pain, forget passing out."

At that Fenris' began to laugh like a mentally disturbed individual before he pointed out, "By the void, Danarius had to chain me up for six months straight just so I wouldn't kill myself!"

At that Fenris' expression turned to that of shock, he had never told anyone of the six months after the ritual, he hadn't even trusted Hawke it was so personal, and it had just been revealed to the last person he would ever think of admitting it to.

Merrill's expression was just as horrified as his was shocked. She opened and closed her mouth several times as though to say something, but the words wouldn't come.

After about a minute of a long awkward silence, Fenris simply let go of Merrill's arms, who then leaned on the tree to keep her ankle off the ground.

Without another word the tattooed warrior calmly walked over to the stick that he dropped when he grabbed Merrill and offered it to the injured elf; who then, though hesitantly, reached out and grabbed the stick and placed it under her arm. After a few test steps, she started to get confident with the makeshift crutch and began to follow Fenris in silence as they made their way back to Kirkwall.

V

Anders was thankful that they had met Ghurm's wagon that was bound for Nevarra; Ghurm himself was a respected Dwarven merchant that plied his trade along the Minanter River.

The dwarf was kind and courteous towards the group, more than happy to give them transportation to the city, for free no less. Though Anders did notice that the merchant wouldn't stop sneaking glances at Varric in an overly friendly way that Anders found a bit disturbing, and only to make things worse, Isabela had to comment that the merchant was going to be 'Friend Fiction gold'.

Anders had to use every ounce of willpower he possessed to not throw up.

The Apostate looked around at the group of misfits he'd come to call friends, or at least allies, for the past six years. Varric was polishing Bianca with his handkerchief while trying his best to ignore Ghurm's constant attempts at conversation, Sebastian had his eyes closed in what appeared to be prayer, while Isabela was perusing Ghurm's wares, specifically the large assortments of hats, one of which she was currently wearing, it had to be the most ridiculous hat that he'd ever seen, it was wide rimmed by about a foot and a half, was bright purple and with a bizarre feather sticking out of the top that resembled a rainbow.

It was then that Anders glanced over at Hawke, their fearless leader staring out in the middle distance with his amber, almost golden, eyes, his expression almost as impossible to read as Fenris'.

"Oh please, I've practically protected her from Wendell and Eddie since day one, but seeing as I'm not there now, I'd say their probably having some fun as we speak," Those words repeated themselves in Hawke's head over and over again, each time the sentence finished he grew more and more enraged at the thought that something bad was happening to Merrill.

"Hawke you alright?" Hawke almost didn't hear Anders he was so lost in thought, but he eventually turned his head towards the mage.

"No," was all that escaped Hawke's lips before he turned back to his staring into space.

"You're worried about what that slaver said about Merrill," Anders asked in a way that said it really wasn't a question.

At that Hawke simply reached into his pouch and pulled out the Silverwood ring and held it up for Anders to see as he admitted his greatest secret, "I'm in love with her,"

Anders nodded his head in understanding, Hawke's protective attitude towards Merrill over the years being finally explained.

It was then that Anders figured it was as good a time as any to ask the question that was eating at him, "You know Fenris and Merrill don't get along very well, what would you do if he killed her out of rage?"

At that Garret Hawke slowly turned his head towards Anders direction, his face filled with anger as he said, "Fenris is a good friend of mine, but if ANYONE prevents me from ever being with Merrill; and I will hunt them as far as the ends of the fade, and as long as the end of eternity, and I. Will. Kill. Them!"

Author's note:

I'd say that should add a new dimension to the stories plot.