Merrill hadn't waited for Isabella to help Anders to his feet, or for the soldiers to gather their equipment. She ran down the tunnel with a speed that surprised even herself. The floor was slippery, but the elf had traversed more dangerous roads than this one, and two of the people she cared for most in the world were in danger. The thought of something happening to them was more than Merrill could bear. She ignored Isabella's shout for her to stop and ran faster. She didn't know how much she could do once she was there, she didn't have much mana left. But she had to try.

The mage came to a widening in the passage; although the path was clear, Merrill was sure she could make out the shadows of smaller entrances. But she didn't have time to investigate. On the floor at her feet lay Varric, unconscious but his breathing was steady, and further down the passage in a crumpled heap was Hawke and a dark figure looming over her. Darkspawn. She could hear more of them around her. Scuffling. Were they behind the walls? Above? She couldn't tell. Merrill was frightened.

She had only seen a few since she had come to the Free Marches, and only stragglers. Hawke always left Merrill behind if she suspected that there would be darkspawn, because of her fears over what happened to Tamlen, had he become one of those monsters? Hawke knew that seeing the creatures stung the elf and made her fear the worst for her lost friend. So Hawke shielded her.

Because Hawke didn't want her to be sad… or get hurt.

Hawke always protected her.

Merrill summoned her magic; it filled her and danced around her. She felt ten feet tall and warm. Safe.

Her gaze locked on the fallen figure of the swordswoman. She focused and reached towards Hawke with the spell.

Merrill didn't know if it had worked; Hawke remained still on the ground. What Merrill did know was that she was surrounded by dark spawn with the last of her magic spent. The light from her staff waned. She felt empty. She felt weak. Alone.

The shuffling to her left suddenly became much louder, and a monstrous face burst from the darkness and into view. Merrill shrieked and fell backwards.

The dark spawn gave a low laugh as it descended on her.

Merrill looked to Hawke, praying that her spell had worked. That Hawke would save her. The blonde was still.

Merrill closed her eyes and waited for the blow.

She could hear steel being drawn. Swift footsteps. A thud in front of her.

"I told you to wait, kitten…"

…..

Fenris ran as quickly as he could, yet his thoughts raced even faster.

Horrific images flashed through his mind. What if she was hurt? What if she was dead? No, she couldn't be. This was Hawke. Forever witty, forever alert. Always the last standing after a battle. And it's not like she was alone. He had left her with Varric, Isabella, the two mages… not to mention a number of Alistair's soldiers.

Yet this knowledge did not ease his anxiety. He needed to get to her. To see her. To know that she was safe.

The path curved and the sight that greeted Fenris made his blood run cold.

Just a few feet away lay Hawke, being dragged by her arm into a darkened warren. It was touching his Hawke, it was trying to take her from him.

Rage was all that Fenris knew. He closed the space between them in a matter of seconds and sliced at the creature's throat. Blood sprayed as the darkspawn fell to the floor. As it lay dying, gurgles burst from its throat.

It wasn't enough.

Fenris drove his blade through the monster's face. Once it had stopped twitching, he pulled the sword free and turned as more creatures emerged from the warrens. Alistair was beside him, poised for battle. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Isabella and Anders with the men. The pirate was fussing over Merrill, seemingly trying to point her away from the battle. The soldiers were contending with a number of darkspawn.

That wasn't important to Fenris. Hawke was.

The elf lunged. He would protect her, whatever the cost.

Fenris wasn't sure how many of the beasts he hacked to the floor, the flurry of steel and flow of blood seemed to blend into the longest moment Fenris had ever known. More than anything he wanted to hold Hawke in his arms, and ease her pain. To know that she was alright. That thought drove him.

The darkspawn numbers had been greatly lessened. As if realising that the battle was lost, the few remaining turned heel and ran- disappearing into the shadowed rocks.

"Fenris!" The elf sensed movement behind him, and a crackling blue light burst. Fenris was flung across the tunnel.

Gasping for air, he forced himself up. He wouldn't die here. Not until he knew she was safe. He refused.

The emissary was now weaving a red spell, its eyes locked on him. Fenris could see Alistair trying to get into range to engage the creature… but he wasn't about to watch a man- his rival for Hawke, no less- fight his battles for him. He charged. The magic deepened in colour. It was too late…

The head flew from the darkspawn's shoulders. Fenris stopped in shock, as did Alistair. The beheaded figure falling to the floor revealed Hawke behind it. Covered in blood and looking more than a little peeved.

"Maker, I hate mages… apart from you two…" she added as an afterthought to Anders and Merrill, "…and Bethany… and any others that don't try to kill me…"

Anders gave a relieved smile, which faded as Hawke fell to her knees.

Every body part she had ached and throbbed. She felt nauseous and disorientated. Hawke had shocked herself with how quickly she had surged to action to kill the casting darkspawn… but when she saw Fenris get hurt, adrenaline had kicked in. Action hadn't been optional.

Hawke sensed someone kneel before her and two hands rested on her shoulders.

Fenris?

Hawke felt relief wash through her. He wasn't angry anymore?

"Are you alright?" A voice asked softly.

Not Fenris.

The breath stuck in Hawke's throat. She raised her head to stare into Alistair's wide brown eyes. Hawke tried to mask the hurt… Fenris really was pulling away from her.

She had lost him to a stupid rose… if she had ever really had him at all.

"Well, I'm not dead."

"Well, yeeeees… I can see that."

Hawke's memory of the fight returned and suddenly her self-pity became panic. "Varric?! Is he…?"

"Varric's fine." Anders soothed, kneeling beside Hawke. Alistair backed away a little, though he remained close. "Let's just see to your injuries. Looks like they've done quite a number on you…"

Hawke snorted. "Well there were 'quite a number' of them. Wasn't the idea of you taking half the men to scout ahead for you to notice the very large party of encroaching darkspawn?"

"I don't know how we missed this." Alistair admitted, gazing at their surroundings. "The only reason I can thi…"

"Excuse." Hawke corrected.

"Fine, the only excuse I can think of is all our lights were flame… sort of creates a lot of shadows…"

Hawke looked at him for a moment. "That's pitiful."

"It could have happened…" Alistair replied defensively.

"But it didn't…. you just weren't looking…"

"Well, there's a reason we split into two groups. It's not my fault that you ran off on your own…"

"I wasn't on my own… Varric was with me."

"So the way I see it, is actually that we saved your life." Alistair was now wearing a small smile, and his tone was very definitely aimed at teasing.

"You wouldn't have needed to save my life if you'd checked the tunnels properly." Hawke felt her cheeks burn. She honestly couldn't recall ever needing assistance in a fight, let alone someone having to come to her rescue. It was certainly something new for her… and it wasn't an experience she wanted to repeat.

Alistair chuckled at her embarrassment, and Anders was barely managing to mask his smirk. "Perhaps you should come along with me next time… it seems that taking my eyes off you even for a second is… unhealthy… for you…"

Across the room, Fenris watched Hawke's cheeks redden as Anders and Alistair poked fun at her. Isabella was still berating Merrill for running away behind him, and the soldiers were mumbling amongst themselves.

"You confuse me Elf, do you think Hawke's going to notice those big, doting eyes from all the way over here?"

Fenris looked down the beardless dwarf. "You're awake. How are you feeling?" Although his concern was genuine, he could see for himself that Varric was not too worse for wear.

Varric chuckled, "I'll fight another day… and then another… and another… anyway, don't change the subject."

Fenris grunted. When Hawke had fallen, his heart had stopped. His strength had failed. Although he had regained his composure and moved to her, Alistair had been closer and reacted far more swiftly. The elf had watched the concern cross the human's face, the genuine fear for her well-being. Hawke could not have seen it, still hunched over on the ground, but Fenris was certain he had seen a gentle tenderness in the way he looked at her.

His first instinct was to step back. Alistair was a king. And a kind, caring and handsome king at that. Next to that an escaped slave – complete with glow-in-the-dark lyrium branding – was no real competition. Better to let her go, let her have the life of luxury that she deserved.

Yet there was something about Alistair that Fenris could just not embrace. Something just a little too smug about his glib remarks, too arrogant in the way he just assumed that he should be there for Hawke, like she needed somebody to look after her.

He felt bile rise in his throat as he watched the two of them together. The Hawke he knew needed nobody's help. She was strong, and fiercely independent. She could cut a man down in cold blood, then turn right around and crack a joke. She was sarcastic and witty and she'd seemingly dedicated her life to helping people in trouble. No, Hawke didn't need some rich king to give her everything her heart desired; she needed somebody to understand her.

And Fenris needed her.

Suddenly, a hand waved across his vision. "Hello? You there, Elf?" Startled, Fenris looked down to see Varric jumping up and down, the crossbow on his back rattling with the motion. "I was just thinking."

"Word of advice; don't think, just do." The dwarf grinned up at Fenris who frowned a little in question. "Hawke may be pretty shrewd about most things, but when it comes to what you people pass off as… 'adult relationships'… she's as smart as your average nug."

"I think you're selling Hawke a little short…"

"She has a thing for you."

"Point taken."

Glancing back to Hawke, Fenris' expression hardened into its traditional scowl as he saw Alistair help her back to her feet. He glanced around the dark, suddenly claustrophobic stone tunnel. "I need some air…."

"Well good luck finding some down here, you'd be better using that supply of 'brood' you keep on tap…"

….

It took a while and a few lyrium potions for Anders to fully heal the three. Varric's head wound was quite straight forward, the damage to Fenris' chest from the spell a little more complicated… but Hawke had taken some time. Anders thanked the Maker for Merrill's quick thinking in casting the magical barrier over her. Things could have been far worse. Hawke could have died, or been dragged away; at the darkspawns' mercy. The thought was too painful for Anders to contemplate.

Not that Hawke admitted that, of course. She had them right where she wanted them... apparently…

Of course, the blonde mage had laughed at her red-faced objections. This was the Hawke that he knew and loved. The thought of losing her to carelessness was unbearable.

While he re-set her broken bones and chastised her for her recklessness, Hawke had finally had the opportunity to explain his partnership with Merrill. He needed to be equidistant from all groups in the event of injury to the troops, and he needed someone able to deal significant damage from a distance in case they were attacked.

The blonde also admitted that she wanted Merrill out of the darkspawns' path. She knew of the dark thoughts and regrets that haunted the elf each time she saw their monstrous forms, and she didn't want to add to that pain more than she had to.

Anders could understand it. As much as Merrill's stupidity and naivety infuriated him, he didn't wish her harm. He thought that Hawke was too soft on her, if he was truthful, but perhaps that was what she needed to bring her back to reason and sense.

"We'll announce the teams now…" He heard Alistair declare. "I've split all Redcliffe knights into different groups."

His thoughts returned. They had made their way to the crossroads after Hawke's recovery, but still she needed more rest. Not that she had listened, of course. After she had bashed the dents out of her armour with her sword hilt, she had put it straight back on.

"Merril and Anders," Hawke stated.

She didn't sound overly enthused. It was business as usual. The mage had wanted to punch Fenris for a while. He had noticed the way Hawke looked at him, and the way he looked at Hawke.

As much as Anders disapproved, he could not deny Hawke's feelings.

He hated himself for admitting it, but he would rather see her with the Warden King. Someone who would protect her. Someone worthy of her.

"Fenris and Varric. Donnic and Isabella."

Hawke hesitated when she said that. She recalled Aveline's words.

"If that slut lays a hand on Donnic, I will fucking kill you, Hawke."

Hawke sighed. If the Deep Roads didn't kill her, Aveline would…

…

With everyone dispensed, Alistair finally gave a massive groan of relief. The day had been arduous, but they needed to be alert and in place as soon as possible. There was no telling where the darkspawn would strike or when, but being ready was vital.

Alistair looked to his companion, the blonde was slumped against the wall and running her hand through her hair. He had no doubt that she was tired. The two mages were tending to the fire just across from him, not that he could bring himself to look at them.

Thoughts of how he had supported her earlier made him blush. The way he had run to her as she fell had been mostly impulse. Of course, he had been concerned over other companions before, but he could not ever remember his blood running as cold as it had earlier.

"Can I sleep now… for a little while?"

Alistair smirked and looked back to her, her features were drawn. She looked so tired that Alistair fought the urge to go to her. He knew it was ridiculous. They had only just met.

"If you must."

She stared at him for a minute through tired eyes. "I did just nearly die."

"Your own fault."

"… can I sleep or not..?"

"Do you need someone to hold your hand?"

Hawke scowled, although Alistair noticed a slight curve on her lips. "That depends… do you intend to keep your eyes open for a few hours... and actually pay attention?"

Alistair chuckled. "You're not the easiest woman to appease."

"I should hope not."

….