Hello to you, my dear reader, yes you, looking at this screen. Thank you for your support. Without you, my Fenris would not have made it so far from Tevinter… he would have been half imagined, or worse. Without you, I would not have written so much in this story. Without you, my friend, I would not have had the courage to delve so deeply into the fade, and the life of a free Elf… or into the family Hawke. Thank you for reading. Your encouragement means something to me. You are amazing. Cookies for all! Near the end of the chapter Li'rae says that her father used to say… that's the quote below. Not trying to take credit. I came across it and felt that Fenris needed to hear it. Cookies to Edgar Cayce too for the Dream quote. : )

*Dreams are today's answers to tomorrow's questions.
-Edgar Cayce

OH! Before I forget, I will be using Latin in place of Tevinter, because the DAII wikia says it's supposed to be a mix of English and Latin, and the Imperium is modeled after the Byzantine Empire- offshoot of Roman. I used Google Translator so forgive me if it's terrible.

*"Mea indiligentiam dona pugione ad hostium."

- My inattention gifts a dagger to my enemy.

"Ego sum non inimicus."

-I am not your enemy

OK enough of the mushy author stuff. Credit where its due, Boiware, and everyone else.

Li'rae was alone. It was a nice change from the cloying of close bodies and illness, not to mention the bereft ache of her mother's accusatory stare. Why can't you save him? You're a mage! She seemed to shout with every not so subtle glance.

The close quiet of the caves outside Lothering were a shelter. "I'm sorry, Father." She cried, shoulders heaving, body aching. When was the last time she'd slept? "I'm so sorry." She sobbed with all the agony of a weary soul. "Maker, I'm so very sorry, papa. I did everything I could! I'm not strong enough!"

His eyes. His eyes were that glazed empty reserved for corpses… like his soul had fled the pain his body was wracked with as gnarled flesh ate its self away. "My poor Daddy." She closed her eyes, rubbed her raw nose and eyes. "I'd do anything to save you, Papa, I just don't- I can't-" Her breath wracked her waifish body, and her tears renewed. "I can't go against everything you are to save you. Pride- he could help us. He has the strength, but if I gave in to a demon, I wouldn't be your daughter. I wouldn't worthy of you for a father. I love you so much. I promised, Daddy. I promised I wouldn't give in. I won't!" She snapped the word like a branch of deadwood, "I love you, Daddy. Mother wants me… she wants me to save you, but she doesn't understand. If I could, I would! You know I would!"

Her breath shook and then released, "I miss you." She cleared her throat, and leaned against the silty wall, rubbing her nose again. "I promise, I'll protect them."

"Where were you?" Mother asked, voice sharp, cracked at the seams. She needed someone to lash out at as she watched the man she loved wither.

"I was sweeping in a cave, mama. Spider bones, bear poo. You know, they get quite dusty."

"Li'rae! Your Father is dying! How could you be so irresponsible? How could you do this?"

"Like it's my fault? Sure, mama, blame the wasting on me! Come on, give it to me, tell me how much you hate me! Tell me how I'm not good enough, and you wish you would have given me to the circle upon my brith! Tell me how I'm not even good enough to bear my father's name! Go on. He could have done it, right? Could have saved me if I were the ill one. Tell me about it mother!"

Leandra stared at her daughter aghast, and before she could stop herself, she had raised her hand and slapped Li'rae with all her strength. The contact both mortified and infuriated Leandra, but before she could speak one word, there was a frail, skeletal hand on both women's shoulders. "Malcolm?" Mother cried.

"Papa! Sit, you shouldn't-"

"Silence." His voice was strained. His eyes were bright with fever and anger, "You are family. I love you both. The wasting is stealing my strength, not Li'rae. You should never have raised your hand against your daughter. Rae Rae, your mother loves you, try to be understanding. She and I have never been apart. The prospect of dying… leaving you, Lea," He cupped his wife's chin, kissed her cheek, "I could not face it, knowing that the two of you are at odds. Please, for my sake…" His breath, and strength ran short. Li'rae put her arm under her father's, and rested her head against him. "I love you both, so much." He coughed raggedly.

"Let's get you back to bed, papa." Li'rae's voice was strangled, aching. "I'm sorry, mama."

"Me too." She whispered, watching her husband and daughter. "Oh, Malcolm." She fell to her knees and wept.

"I'm not dead yet, woman!" He groused. "Get over here, go outside Rae Rae. Mother and father need some alone time."

"Oh, for the Maker's sake!" Li'rae muttered, scurrying away, as her mother went to her father like a lovesick pup.

Secretly, though? She smiled. He was feeling strong today.

"Hawke!" Pride grinned toothily, "I have been waiting."

"Well, at least Desire had something better to do, than pester me."

"Oh, she didn't. I chased her off, knowing how you abhor her crude advances."

"They are less pretty than your flattery."

The demon laughed, "I speak nothing save truth, my friend!"

"Not friends, Pride."

"Sure, sure, father knows best. Tell me, how is he?"

Her face clouded, "Poorly."

"I do wish you would let me help you."

"I bet you do."

"I would require nothing, save a moment of your time-"

"Pride, I told you, I will not deal with demons."

"You would rather your father die a horribly painful death?"

Li'rae stood, turning toward the creature, and pointing her finger, "Do not use my father like that." Her voice was low, boiling with fury and fear and pain, "If I ever hear such a phrase from you again, I'll have to find myself another pride demon to keep the lesser demons away."

"A threat?" Pride asked, growling low.

"A promise. I admit you are more palatable than Desire and the others, but do not take that preference as an allowance to use my father in your schemes. I will not allow anyone, not even my own mother to use my father against me. If you and I must fight because of this, so be it."

He considered for a moment, then backed down, "I see grief has made you less than amiable. I apologize for my misstep, for even though you do not think on me as a friend, I do think of you as such." He bowed, "I will make it clear to the others, that a trespass against you, this night, is a trespass against me. No one will bother you, Hawke."

Li'rae looked up, but he had already vanished. "Thank you." She said quietly.

"Sister!"

Li'rae sighed, "Bethy? Not in any life threatening danger, are you?"

"No, the Fade is oddly silent today, sister."

"It's…" She struggled to speak the words, "Well, a Pride demon. I snapped at him, and he said he'd make sure everything left us alone for the night."

"Did you make a deal?"

"No. I offered nothing. I gave nothing to him. He has been trying to get me to make a deal. Pushed one too many of my buttons, though. I threatened him, then paid him a sort of compliment. Then he apologized and went away."

"Be careful, sister. Demons are dangerous. Especially pride demons."

"I will, Bethy." Li'rae said. Then the two linked arms, and took a stroll.

"Is that… Oh, this is just too good! Sister, the Elf!" She said, pointing at a lanky male elf with dark hair, and pretty green eyes. His head swiveled as he heard her voice.

"Do I… know you?" He asked, eyes just a little glazed.

"Not well, but we've met." Bethy said, "You are rather better acquainted with my sister."

His eyes switched to Li'rae, and she felt she saw them clear a bit, "Hello." She said, "I'm Hawke, and this is my sister Bethany."

"Hawke… Ah… I am… Fenris." He said, shaking his head, "My mind is unclear. How I loathe this place." He snapped quietly, then he stilled, and Li'rae could practically scent his fear.

"Hey, it's not so bad. In fact, it's anything you like." She said, swirling her arms about to create the likeness of a cozy room and a roaring fire. "See."

"You… are a mage." His voice hitched.

"Yes, but you knew that."

"I did." He confirmed.

"This is all a lie." He waved his hands, dissolving the illusion.

"You obviously don't know the fade, my pointy eared friend. Things here, are ever changing, ever shifting. This is a place where imaginings are true, like your sword, the last time we met, and that armor. Like my staff. The very substance of the air is of your imagining."

"It is all vain fluff which has no bearing on the struggles of men, free or enslaved."

Hawke appeared pensive before she spoke again. Fenris almost feared that he had cursed her to ire, but then she smiled, in a very sad sort of way, "My father always told me, '*Dreams are today's answers to tomorrow's questions.'"

"He must have been a mage too." Fenris snapped, bitterness bubbling to the surface, burning his skin.

"He was." Hawke said with a smile… "Is… for a while, yet."

"What?"

"My father is dying." Li'rae said, "The wasting."

He twitched, eyes ghosting over a thousand faces all writhing in agony, burning as their flesh attacked its self. Screams, pleas for help. Pleas for death. "I… would not wish that on anyone. Not even a mage. My condolences."

"Thank you." Bethy said quietly, eyes obscured by her bangs as she looked down, composing herself.

"I… you are sisters?"

"Yes." Hawke said.

"You do not look alike."

"Hawke…" Bethy pronounced their shared name carefully, "Favors father."

"That is a gift." Fenris said, "When years have passed and your memory of his face fades, all you need do is peek at your own."

She smiled, "Thank you. That was unexpectedly kind."

Fenris shifted uncomfortably, "You are welcome."

"I favor mother, as does Carver."

"Your mother must be beautiful." Fenris spoke the expected platitudes with the deftness of a slave trained that the absence of such words meant pain. She was tickled by them, however, not seeming to have expected the compliment. It was… gratifying.

Hawke's eyes narrowed on him, however, distrust coloring the green orbs. "Pride?" She sniffed. "You should be able to do better than silly compliments. My sister will not fall to flattery."

Fenris had fallen naturally into his fighter's stance at the mention of a demon, he looked about wildly.

"Sister, he's just a dreamer. Not a demon. We could feel his power if it were otherwise."

"I'm not so sure." Hawke growled. "Fenris, is it?"

He cocked his head at her, realizing, "You think I am a Demon? You are a mage!"

"And so must be on constant guard against them." She said quietly. "*Mea ndiligentiam dona pugione ad hostium."

Fenris scowled at her use of Arcanum. Then he thought on the phrase. True. If she were more lax in her acceptance of him, she would likely be taken for a fool and turned into an abomination rather quickly. Instead, she had bantered, then as he spoke unnecessary flattery, she became suspicious. He found he could not disapprove. "Ego sum non inimicus." He said. "I am merely a man."

"Prove it."

"Why would pride come in the guise of an elf?"

"An exceptional elf, more than conscious in the Fade? Oh, I don't know…" Bethy grumbled.

"Elves are innocuous. One would think he would come in the form of a powerful magister."

Hawke spat, "All Magisters are blood mages and abominations. I will have no truck with such beasts."

"I approve." He said. "I am surprised, but I approve."

Hawke frowned at him, then appeared to relax slightly. "Where are you from?"

Fenris looked away, "Elsewhere."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"Your past is your own, then?"

"Is not yours?"

Hawke sighed. "I was only making polite conversation. Sorry for thinking you were a demon."

"' Mea ndiligentiam dona pugione ad hostium.' I approve this sentiment. Be wary."

"Trust no one." She laughed, the sound reminded him of babbling streams, and wind in treetops. He liked it. "You remind me of my father." She said, "Before the illness. He was always quoting things in Arcanum, and warning us about the possible misuse of our power. He said, 'If I have to kill a demon to take you back, I will, but there will be hell to pay, if it's your fault.' -Which pretty much meant that there would be hell to pay if we hadn't fought to the death in the fade."

Fenris scratched his temple, "Your father sounds honorable. I have met few mages in my time, who are worthy of honor… I can say truthfully, that I hope he survives his illness. If he does not… I wish him well at the side of the Maker, and my hopes go to his family, that they live up to his legacy. The world will be lesser for his loss. If his children do not uphold his ideals, his life will have meant little." His eyes charged Bethany, and she nodded. Hawke's eyes brimmed for a moment, then became sharp, as she accepted the duty of upholding her father's principles after his death. One more burden to carry. She shouldered the proverbial weight with ease, knowing that she would soon be speaking her father's words over her sister.

There was silence for a time, as the winds of the fade, conjured by Bethany's imaginings, tinkled through the stars. Then, that same dark haired little mage grinned, "Sister…"

"Bethy?"

"You know, the last one didn't count."

Fenris' brow quirked, he didn't know what to make of the comment, or the unsettling grin on the sister of Hawke's lips. "May I inquire as to what you are referring?"

Hawke sighed, "Really?"

"Yes, sister!"

"Fine, but you can't refuse next time I dare you. In the fade or no." She strode three steps forward, matched Fenris' one step back, then, took his face in her hands.

The only explanation, for what happened next were three words, "Bethy dared me."