A week passed, then another. Irina prayed for their safe return. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to be down there, with no sunlight or fresh air. Darktown was surely nothing compared to the Deep Roads, and even though she was grateful to her brother for not taking her along, she couldn't help but feel uneasy. Carver was on her mind every morning when she woke up. She thought of Anders as she worked in the clinic, aided by Merrill and Leandra and guarded by Isabela and more and more often Sebastian, who commended her for her good deeds.

But it was at night, before going to sleep, that she would put all other thoughts aside and think of Fenris. As she closed her eyes, she recalled his image. His voice, his eyes, his warmth and strength. Flemeth had called it 'imprinting'. Irina was willing to believe that if he had done that, it hadn't been through his energy, but through his actions. The warrior that she had initially feared and pitied had become the man that she wanted to spend time with.

She didn't want to get ahead of herself. There had been very little between them to expect anything from him when he returned. That didn't stop her from wishing and hoping. His words, his touch – everything made her tremble with excitement and anticipation. She wondered if he would be ready to leave his life with Danarius behind, though. She knew that he was still waiting to be ambushed, and she dreaded the thought of that ever happening.


"How are you holding up, Blondie?" Varric asked as he cleaned the smaller gears in Bianca. They had stopped for a long rest after finding a quiet spot.

"Much better now that we're done with the Darkspawn in the area," Anders replied, letting his hair down and massaging his scalp. "I'd kill for a bath, though."

"You and me both," Varric muttered.

"Now there's a thought…" Carver teased, sitting down by the small fire Anders had lit.

"Very funny, Hawke," the dwarf grunted.

"What's the matter, Varric? Think you're the only jokester? You can give it but you can't take it?" Carver sniggered.

"Well, aren't you on fire today?" Varric ironized. "Don't think about sex too much. Isabela's not here to satisfy your needs."

"Varric, I'm surprised," Anders intervened. "That's old news – Merrill is the chosen one."

"You and Daisy? How'd I miss that? Well, well, well…" Varric chuckled. "You'll be barking up that tree for a long time, mister. Gonna get a case of blue balls before anything happens."

Carver smiled but said nothing. Fenris watched him and then his eyes turned to Varric, who was still waiting for a stronger reaction. The dwarf dropped the piece of greasy cloth he was holding and stared at Carver. "You dog."

"What," Carver replied casually.

"You did it. You bedded Daisy."

Carver scoffed. "How… How could you possibly know–?"

"Don't you think I know that if it wasn't true you would have teased me about having less sex than Justice? No offense, Blondie. Though I do wonder if touching yourself would count as sex for–"

"And that's an image I don't want to see…" Fenris muttered.

"Where was I? Oh yes, Daisy! Well, what are you waiting for? Do tell! We're just a bunch of lonely guys here, y'know. We could do with some stories."

"Actually, that should be reason enough for him not to say anything," Anders pointed out. "Getting frisky in the Deep Roads gives a whole new meaning to the 'deep' part."

"How classy…" Fenris droned.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not like this around Irina. We don't talk about sex much. I don't want to spoil her for when you two have your first–"

"Say that again?" Carver arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, just shut up, Anders," Fenris groaned.

"Tell us about Daisy!" Varric pressed Carver.

"Will you stop it, ladies?" Bartrand boomed from behind. "Ancestors, I swear! If we'd brought along the women you left behind, at least we'd have some good bodies to ogle, and we'd be able to turn a deaf ear to the inane chatter! Varric!" he called.

"Yes, brother?"

"How long before we can retake the blocked road?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Bartrand," Varric muttered. Being down there for such a long time with his older brother made him feel that his patience was running thin. He didn't have the same love for all things dwarven that Bartrand had brought along when House Tethras had been cast out to the surface. Every day that they spent down there, there was only one thing in Varric's mind – 'Please let us find something truly valuable so that we can get the heck out of this place soon.'

"I'll show you two the new route after the detour," Anders offered, having recognized the murderous look in Varric's face. After the headaches he'd gotten with the Darkspawn swarming about, the last thing he needed was unnecessary arguments.

Fenris watched them walk away. For a moment he wondered if it was better to follow them, but the close proximity of someone who was now burning through his skull with his eyes told him that it would be more than difficult to escape Carver.

He turned around reluctantly and found his companion's blue eyes staring at him. He sighed.

"I suppose you want an explanation…" he started.

"That would be nice, yes. Though the thing that interests me the most is how long this has been happening."

"Nothing's happened. Anders's got a big mouth, that's all."

"Well then… Do you like her?" Carver asked directly.


"Well, that's a difficult question, isn't it?" Irina said, grinding some seeds for a concoction. "I'm afraid I don't know as much about Andraste as I would like, but it just seems odd to me that elves are not contemplated by the Chantry."

"But it is true that the Chantry's arms are open to all those faithful and in need, regardless of their race," Sebastian pointed out. "Why, there's even a dwarf who represents our Faith in Orzammar. We received word of it a few months ago."

"I thought dwarves revered their paragons and ancestors, the way elves venerate their multiple creators." She raised her eyes and smiled at the sight of Merrill talking to the plants that Anders had grown in the little sunlit patch.

Sebastian watched Irina work in silence. Her pale hands moved quickly, as if they'd always performed that task. He knew that Anders was instructing her in the ways of magic, and he'd initially been doubtful of the healer's intentions with the younger Hawke, but seeing her move around the clinic made him think that she was being given the right kind of training.

"Aren't you needed at the chantry?" Irina asked him.

"Is my being here bothering you?" he asked back.

"No, I didn't mean… You're always welcome to help or simply be here, Brother," she replied, blushing slightly.

Sebastian smiled. "Your cheeks hide a secret, Miss Hawke. Is there something you would like to confess?"

Irina shook her head and chuckled. "Trust me, Brother. You don't want to know."

Sebastian cocked his head as he put the bandages away. "Those words tend to make the listener even more curious," he said quietly.

"Oh, you are a smart man. You must have noticed that every time you're here, Isabela stays at the back, sketching…"

Sebastian looked behind him. The pirate was sitting on a high stool, holding a board and a piece of parchment on it in one hand and some charcoal in the other. She waved at him cheerfully. It was Sebastian's turn to blush furiously when he understood the possible implications of such action.

"She's… Has she been doing that for long?"

"She started working on a story during a night you spent with her at the docks–"

"I wasn't alone with her," Sebastian said quickly.

"Oh, I know." Irina shut her mouth and ground the seeds and herbs more vigorously.

Sebastian was quick to catch her change. "Miss Hawke… Have you seen the drawings?"

"It's hard not to," Irina confessed. "She's been showing them to everyone."

"Andraste's blessed heart," he murmured, dismayed.

"I wouldn't take a look at them, if I were you," she said sympathetically.

"Trust me, Miss Hawke: that's the sort of thing that I really don't want to see," Sebastian replied.


"This doesn't feel right," Anders muttered. "I can feel it in my bones."

Fenris nodded. "This is lyrium, but… Not the normal kind." He walked towards one of the veins, blood red and intensely bright. He felt the humming of the lyrium as a dull thump that seemed to beat along with his heart. Thump thump thump, humming louder and louder, filling his ears. So bright, so powerful… He reached out to touch the vein, but someone pulled him back.

"What do you think you're doing?" Anders yelled. "Are you insane? This is not right!"

Fenris shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "I'm… I shouldn't have done that."

"Of course you shouldn't have!" Anders sounded furious. Fenris frowned. Why was the mage moving around so much?

"S-stand still..." he slurred. He felt as if his head was about to explode.

"He's not moving, Fenris," Varric murmured. Fenris turned to look at him, but Varric was nowhere to be seen.

"Maker, look at his eyes…" Carver's voice, coming from somewhere dark, somewhere that he couldn't see.

"Fenris," Anders called. There he was. He wasn't moving anymore, but… But it wasn't Anders either. The image of a tall figure standing in Anders's place. Blue and silver, with a dark core that seemed to be in turmoil. "Can you see me?" The figure took a step towards him, raising his hands to hold him by the head. "Can you?"

"I see the spirit within," Fenris replied. He set himself free from Anders's grip and fell on his knees, spewing bile.

Varric backed off, dragging Carver with him. Anders stood in front of Fenris alone. There was a curious expression in his face, as if there was something that he wanted to ask, but didn't quite dare to.

"Problems, little brother?" Bartrand sounded calmer than usual, and Varric and Carver looked at each other.

"The elf… Fenris… He just got sick. Whatever you do, don't touch the lyrium. Don't even get close to it. And tell Bodahn to keep an eye on Sandal – if he wanders and gets lost in here, I'm not sure we'd find him alive again."

Bartrand stared at his brother and then looked around. It was hard to tell if he'd even listened to what Varric had said. Carver shuddered. "I don't like this. Not one bit."

"You're not alone in the sentiment, Hawke," Varric muttered. He was watching some of the hirelings that had been following them, and there was something odd: it looked as if they were dazed, and he was almost certain that if they put more distance between them and the group, the others would probably lose their way. He turned around and saw Fenris still on his knees. "Blondie… Can he go on any time soon?"

"He needs a moment to rest," Anders's voice replied. "He is crossing planes."

Carver looked at Anders. No, not Anders. That was surely Justice, burning inside his companion. His glow was different from Anders's normal one. For the first time since they had descended into that fiendish pit, he felt the grip of fear. Things were starting to go way over his head, and he took comfort in knowing that his sister was safe.


"Both of you, get in there and don't make a sound!" Isabela hissed as she pushed Merrill and Irina into Anders's hidden compartment – too small to call it a room, too narrow to stand there for long periods of time. The two women saw Isabela close the door and they stood still, holding each other. The heart of the young Dalish raced, but she was trying to breathe in and out slowly and quietly, and she sensed that her friend was doing the same.

They heard noises outside – surely the others were dragging things out of sight before the Templars arrived at the clinic. Sebastian's voice was soothing Leandra, who was in charge of looking after the sick. Irina was grateful for having him there, even though part of her kept expecting him to take her to the Gallows sooner or later. She wondered what Fenris would say of that. Considering his views on mages, he would agree that the Circle was a better option than letting them run free and amok. She wanted to laugh at how ridiculous she would surely sound if she could voice her thoughts, but the sound of the door opening made her forget about everything else.

A man's voice, giving instructions to others to search the place. Sebastian's quiet manners, explaining that they were not harbouring runaway mages from any Circle. Gamlen's request that they leave the place, for there were sick people there, with illnesses that could be contagious. Irina felt Merrill's forehead resting on her shoulder, their sweaty palms locked together, and she wondered why the elf was so afraid. She'd never seemed to be nervous about being caught before.

Isabela's voice. She was close to where they were, so they could hear her loud and clear. "And we're asking you to leave this place, serah. This clinic is run by a Grey Warden, and you don't want to meddle in their affairs."

"And I'm telling you that I can feel the dark powers in this place." The man's voice was dangerously low. Irina closed her eyes, trying to focus so that she could do what she knew best. They were moving. But who – friend or foe? In the darkness, she felt them: a leader and three followers.

Something had changed within her, though. She could see them all now – not only their spirits, but also their life force, red and alive. She gripped Merrill's hand in horror and Merrill covered her friend's mouth to prevent her from acting on her panic.

The bodies… The Templars were moving towards Isabela, but the bodies of the few sick and the people who were watching them –relatives, friends, other refugees– also started moving. The leader invoked the protection of his own vital energy, but as he was doing so, Irina felt Isabela disappearing. And then, a gurgle, a dying sound. Sebastian's desperate cry –"What have you done?!"– and Isabela's shout –"Gamlen!"– as the bodies of the people of the clinic swarmed the Templars and attacked them until their energies disappeared.

Merrill let out a frightened sob, but Irina found herself unable to move to comfort her. She waited until the door was opened for them, and she saw Gamlen's face, pale and sickened, and her mother behind him.

"Darling!" Leandra cried as she hugged her daughter. She noticed Merrill's hesitation but she beckoned her as well, and Merrill joined them in their embrace.

Over her mother's shoulder, Irina's eyes caught sight of the dead Templars, murdered by the refugees commanded by Isabela. She felt her uncle's hand over her head, patting her awkwardly. She felt as if she was supposed to be grateful, but she wasn't. People had died. People had turned into killers. All for them. She had helped eliminate spirits, hollow men, and abominations, but she had never seen a man killed before. She felt overwhelmed by sadness and impotence. All she had been able to do was watch them kill or watch them die. She wished she hadn't seen that. She wished her magic gone.

She felt someone was watching her. Sebastian. The look in his eyes was more than telling. He didn't approve of what had taken place there. Irina felt her cheeks burning with shame. Sebastian let out a deep sigh and stood by Isabela.

"What are we going to do with the bodies?" he asked matter-of-factly.

Isabela looked around. After a while she said, "Don't you think the plants look a little wilted? They could certainly use some compost..."


Fenris held the red handkerchief in his hand. Bring it back to me, she had said. But there would be no return. They'd been betrayed and left behind to die. Brother against brother. He'd always believed that humans were hard to trust, and it was even harder to trust mages, but the betrayal of the blood… That had to hit harder than any other.

He looked back at Varric, who looked both enraged and defeated, and he wondered which of the two would be his companion's doom. He'd watched him during the last battles. Something had broken within the dwarf, and there was a certain abandonment in the way he fought. Fenris had had to cover his back in more than one occasion, and Varric hadn't even noticed.

He knew what fighting for survival felt like. It was lonely. Not having something to protect other than your own life made you sloppy, careless. It numbed you, until you no longer saw what stood ahead of you. You just moved forward and cut whatever came your way.

The feel of the handkerchief between his fingers reminded him of Irina's softness and the warmth of her proximity. He knew now that he should have kissed her when he'd had the chance. He'd never kissed other lips without being commanded to do so, and this time he wished she'd told him to kiss her. It would have been much easier.

"We'll find a way out," Carver said, sitting behind him. He quickly hid the handkerchief inside the breastplate, but not fast enough for his companion not to see it. "That was Bethany's once," he said softly. "Irya cherishes it."

"I know," Fenris nodded. "She asked me to return it to her."

"With a little help of the Maker, we shall," Carver said firmly. He parted his lips to say something else, but he decided against it. Fenris was about to ask what he wanted to say, but a low rumble distracted him.

"Did you hear that?" he murmured.

"Get up, quickly," Anders commanded. "I think we have come too close to that area that the demon mentioned…"

"And we'd know what we could find if the elf hadn't gone through it with his sword," Varric barked.

"He did the right thing," Anders sentenced. "You don't want to make deals with demons."

"Like you're one to talk, Blondie," the dwarf grunted.

"Will you two please shut up?" Carver said, rubbing his forehead.

Varric sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm tired and hungry, and sick of eating mushrooms and chewing on the herbal pills your sister made for us so as not to feel hungry."

"We all feel the same way," Carver said, standing up. They felt the rumble again. "I guess this is it, then."

"What do you mean?"

"If the demon said the exit was guarded by something, all we have to do is kill that something. We killed a dragon, for Andraste's sake, and it wasn't even our first dragon!"

"True," Varric smirked. "Down here, we've definitely found some menacing chunks of rock. Damned golems."

"And don't forget the possessed chunks of rock," Fenris added.

"Spirits and rocks! Do you think we'll find something new?" Varric asked.

It took them one look at the monstrous thing standing between them and the exit to know that though they hadn't found something new, they'd certainly found something more dangerous.


"That can't be true," Leandra said. "Please, serah… Tell me that's not true."

"I am so sorry, Mistress," Bodahn said, shaking his head. "We tried to persuade him to go back for them, but he claimed that they were lost forever, and he told us that if we followed him, we'd come out of the Roads alive. I would have liked to stay and searched for them – even Sandal insisted that we should stay, but…"

"But you were afraid for your son," Leandra whispered. "Oh, how I understand you, serah…"

"That place was scary," Sandal commented, tugging at Leandra's heart. She didn't know what to feel. Everything but hopelessness. She'd already lost a child; she knew the pain. Somehow, she didn't feel like that after hearing about Carver's disappearance. It was only that: he had disappeared. There was always the chance that he would return to them. He would surely find a way to do that. He always did.

"Mistress, if there's anything we can do for you…" Bodahn said gently.

"Thank you, serah, but… There's nothing left for us to do but wait. I'm not sure how I'm going to convey the news to my daughter. I think she's almost lost her faith, and if I tell her this–"

"Tell me what?" Irina asked behind her.

"They are lost," Sandal blurted out innocently.

Irina looked at the dwarf. They would be travelling with the expedition; Carver had introduced her to them when they'd thought she'd be joining them. But if they were there…

"Do you mean... Carver?" she asked, agitated. "Mother?"

"Please, baby… Not now…" Leandra murmured, her eyes darting from side to side. If Irina lost her cool there, in the middle of the market… It could be dangerous for all of them.

"Miss Hawke, you must remain calm…" Bodahn pleaded. "It will do you no good to react now. Let us find a quiet place, so that I can explain–"

"Where are they? Fenris! Anders! Varric? All of them? Just tell me what happened!"

Sandal fumbled in a pouch and took out a small stone. He rushed to her side and offered it to her.

"What… What is this?" Irina asked. As soon as her fingers touched the rune, her body collapsed, unconscious.

"Irya!" Leandra cried out. "What did he do?"

Bodahn looked around. In the distance, he saw two Templars walking towards the area, which was starting to get crowded. "She's only asleep. Come on, we have to get her out of here, as fast as we can."


Irina opened her eyes. An unfamiliar ceiling greeted her, and then the sight of another bed, as simple as the one she was lying on, right in front of a screen. She rubbed her forehead – how had she gotten there in the first place? And then she remembered. Carver. All of them. Lost.

She sat up and groaned. She'd seen a blinding light and after that, darkness. A rune. The dwarf had given her a rune with a word of power. Sleep. She blinked. That was not possible. Dwarves couldn't use magic. Was that dwarf an enchanter?

She heard hushed voices talking behind the screen. "Mother?" she called. Chairs moving. Her mother's face, and behind her, two dwarves.

"Carver?" Irina asked. Her mother crossed the room swiftly and held her daughter in her arms. How long would she be able to protect her if Carver didn't return?


Fenris left the bag on the floor. He wasn't sure if the load was heavy indeed or if he was slowly getting weaker. He guessed that both answers were accurate. "I don't see a turn to the right," he said. "Are you sure you're reading that map correctly?"

Anders walked up to where the elf was standing. "A bit further on, then. I just know that we're inconveniently close to the Warden outpost. I feel it in my skin."

"Inconvenient for you, perhaps," Fenris pointed out. "Some of us could sure do with some assistance–" He was startled by a bolt shot at the wall behind him. He turned around to see Varric pointing Bianca at him. "What did you do that for?"

"All of us could do with some assistance. Not just 'some' of us. We're in this together."

"Of course we are," Carver said. "But Fenris and Anders had it rough down here, what with the temporary blindness and the awful headaches. And you… Well, you with your brother. I guess I was the lucky one this time."

"That you were, Hawke," Varric said, patting his companion on the arm. They continued walking until one pair of footsteps stopped.

"What's the matter, Blon–?" A familiar screeching made his blood curl.

"Well, we know we're close to the exit for sure," Carver said, dropping his bag and wielding his broadsword. "Darkspawn ahead."

"Not many, though," Anders said, summoning a wisp.

"You two, stay behind. Fenris, at my signal." Carver and Fenris charged ahead against the group. Some of the Genlocks had been trapped by Anders's hex. A few more fell before Varric's bolts. Their blades moved in unison, preventing the Darkspawn from advancing. A bolt of lightning disrupted them, and they saw Anders flinging a fireball at the magic-wielding Darkspawn.

As Carver dealt with the Hurlocks, Fenris ran his sword through the chest of a Genlock, using the body as a shield as he charged against the rest. Soon, the bodies of the monsters littered the floor, and Fenris chased the ones that were crawling away, driving his sword through their necks and finishing them.

"Well," Carver panted. "I hope we won't find another group like that any time soon. Or at least not before we have something to eat. Can't do this on an empty stom–" He heard hollow sniggering behind him and turned around to see a dying Genlock standing there. The beast sank its knife into Carver's side up to the hilt before Varric had time to put a bolt through its head.

Carver fell on his knees and pulled the knife out, casting it far from him. He pressed his side to stop the blood from flowing. Anders ran to his side.

"Stay with me," the mage pleaded as he laid his hands over the wound. "We're so close, Carver; so close…"

"Fenris…" Carver called, feeling Anders's magic pouring into him. Fenris's eyes stared at his companion, unable to understand what had happened. "Promise me…"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Big Boy," Varric grunted. "Blondie's already healing you." He noticed the worried look in Anders's eyes but preferred to ignore it.

"It hurts…" Carver winced.

"Well, of course it does, you big oaf! You had a bloody knife stuck inside!"

"The knife…" Anders whispered. "Fenris! Find the knife!"

Fenris looked around and found it. His fingers jerked when he bent down to pick it up. He had to muster all his courage to grab it by the handle and take it back to Anders. He left it beside the mage, who took a look at it and closed his eyes. Fenris saw him shake his head almost imperceptibly. Anders pointed to his satchel. "Pass me the amber flask," he asked Varric. But when he finally got hold of it, he hesitated.

"What is it?" the dwarf asked.

Anders didn't reply, but Carver saw the look in his face.

"It was corrupted, wasn't it?" he asked. "That's why it burns. I've been stabbed before… This feels nothing like that."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Varric asked, incredulous. "Anders… Is he right?"

Anders looked down. "Yes."

The silence that befell them was broken by Fenris. "You were going to poison him, weren't you?"

Anders looked up at the elf. "I was going to put him to sleep, and then kill him. It's the greatest mercy I could offer to a friend."

"What stopped you?" Carver asked. He didn't sound resentful or genuinely curious. There was only resignation in his voice.

"It's a long shot, but… We could find the Wardens. You could join them, if they let you in."

"Do they recruit people out of pity?" Fenris asked without malice.

"Carver's worth it. I'll vouch for him," Anders replied.

"I wonder how much your word is worth, though." Fenris looked at the young man on his knees. "But we can give it a try. Are you strong enough to stand up?"

"Of course I am," Carver winced, leaning on Varric to get back on his feet.


"What are you saying, honey?" Leandra's worried face made her daughter feel guiltier than she already did. "You're not serious, are you? Tell me you're not…"

"It's not insane… I saw you at the clinic. You were truly terrified. You could have died there. Everyone could have died there, just to protect us. People actually died!" Irina shouted. "It was unnecessarily dangerous, and I can't let that happen again. Carver's gone, Mother." She hid her face in her hands and cried softly. "He's gone, and he won't be here to protect us for the rest of our lives… And you don't deserve to be locked in this house… You've done too much for me already…"

"Darling…"

"I am serious," Irina said after a while, wiping her tears away with determination. "If the Templars come for me again, I'll go with them. I'll join the Circle."

...

A/N: As usual, thanks for reading!