A/N: Bioware owns everything. I scrounge what I can from imagination and twisted plot devices.


The hour of departure has arrived and we go our ways; I to die, and you to live. Which is better? Only God knows.

~Socrates

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

"Look dwarf, I'm not doing it for anything less than seventy sovereigns."

For a moment, Varric thought the cankerous captain had drunk one to many pints of sea water, "For seventy sovereigns I could sail from here to Minrathous with a ship that doesn't look like it would founder with next gust of wind!"

"Then go take that one," the gap-toothed smuggler spat. "That's my terms, take 'em or leave 'em."

Varric rubbed the stubble on his chin as he looked over the old man's boat. It wasn't anything impressive, certainly not for the price this heckler was asking for, but it was available now and would be able to go in a couple of days. The single mast sloop at least looked fast, which was good, and it was small enough that it could easily be handled by only a few men. The dwarf grudgingly reached into his coat and pulled out a small coin bag.

"Here's a third," he said as he tossed the old man the coin. "Have her ready by tomorrow and you'll get another. I'll pay the rest when you get us to port, considering your boat doesn't sink halfway there."

The old smuggler chuckled and stashed the coin purse into his sash, "Oh, you don't have to worry about that, Master Dwarf. The Eel is more than she looks."

"Let's hope it's a lot more," Varric said as he left for the Hanged Man.

As he made his way through the docks, he couldn't help but constantly check behind his shoulder. He was being paranoid, he knew, but not without reason. The last time he felt this nervous was right before the shit hit the ceiling with the templars and mages, and he be damned if he got caught up in that kind of mess again.

He had gotten word that some of the other merchants in the Merchant's Guild had gotten wind of his findings. It wouldn't be something to take notice about, but after his success in the Deeproads years, back, Varric realized he was gathering some unwanted attention from the guild's more "enthusiastic" members. It didn't help matters for them to know that mages were also somehow involved with his findings.

The Carta was always on the tip of someone's tongue, but once words such as Crow were dropped, Varric felt it was high time to put his venture into motion and quickly. The only problem was his obvious lack of manpower at the moment. Just as he turned the corner, he spotted a flash of green and brown amongst the sandstone docks.

"Daisy?"

The elf quickly turned and seemed somewhat relieved to see him.

"Varric, what a nice surprise."

"What brings you down here?" he asked.

"Nothing, really. I was just going for a walk and got a bit turned around."

"What, no ball of twine?"

"I…uh, seemed to have misplaced it."

Merrill fell in step beside him and kept pace as he led her back towards the entrance to Lowtown.

"How's your new tenant working out?" he asked.

"Tenant? Oh, you mean, Falon. She's well, or at least she was the last I saw her. She hasn't returned since that night she did that job for you."

"Daisy, that was two days ago."

"Yes, well, she does that every now and then. I don't think she's getting use to so many people in one place. For a time, we stayed close to one another, you know, going to the market, gathering herbs every now and then in the forest, fighting bandits and thugs in the back alleys at night."

"Sounds like some real good female bonding time."

"Yes, well, I must have done or said something, because I haven't seen her. Maybe she's had enough of the city. I know how difficult it was for me when I first came here. There were times when I felt like the walls were suffocating me and all I wanted was to run back to the safety of the trees." She had a far way look on her face. It wasn't something he had seen in a long time, and he felt a pang of pity for her. "I bet the Sawtooth Oaks are just about to bloom right now."

"Have you ever thought of leaving, Daisy?"

"Why would I want to do that? Where would I even go?"

Varric hitched Bianca up on his shoulder as they ascended the steps up into Lowtown.

"Where would you want to go?"

Merrill toyed with a piece of braided cord that was tied around her wrist. On it were small pieces of bone and a ring woven into it.

"Now that the Blight is over, I would like to go back to Ferelden. I don't think it would be so bad in their Alienages, not with an elf as their Hero."

"You want to go to another Alienage? Why not just find another clan?"

Merrill shook her head, "I couldn't do that, not after… Well, just no."

Varric and Merrill walked in silence for several blocks until eventually finding their way into the Lowtown marketplace.

"You know," he began, "I've never heard too many of your stories. I think I could count on one hand all the ones you've told."

"Well, they're not as colorful as yours, Varric. They're mostly just stories the Dalish tell so we don't forget them."

"Still, you should come over tonight and we'll exchange tales. You never know, it could inspire me to write a whole new book."

"I don't think Fenris would appreciate me being there."

"You let me worry about the elf. Besides, now that he no longer has a gaping hole in his side, he spends his evenings anywhere but the Hanged Man now."

The mage considered his words for a moment before giving a quick nod.

"Alright, it would be nice to catch up. I will see you later this evening then."

"Until then," Varric replied.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

Across the table, Fenris drew another card before calling. Varric made an effort to glance at his hand and then quickly folded. For the third time in a row, the elf took the pot.

"Damn, from what I remember, you weren't too good at this."

"I disagree. I was always good, you just constantly cheated."

The dwarf glanced at the clock on the mantel as he shuffled the deck. They had been playing for a couple of hours, but already Fenris had more than half his gold and they had gone through two bottles of his Blancor 3:14. Varric didn't care too much about it, though. The elf was always a coin flip when he drank, but the game and his current luck seemed to have put him in a relatively good mood. Well, at least a good mood for him. Just as he finished dealing out their next hand, there was a tentative knock on his door.

"It's opened," he called without looking away from his hand. He was almost positive who was at the door, but Fenris confirmed it when the door opened and his usual scowl was put back into place as the visitor walked in.

"Daisy, good of you to stop by. Pull up a chair," Varric said as he turned in his seat to greet her.

She looked like a deer caught in a snare form the way her eyes shifted from the brooding elf and then back to him.

"No, I think perhaps I'll come back-"

"Nonsense," he said in his most charming tone. He got up and ushered her to the chair next to him and set a cup before her. He had hoped that the ranger would have accompanied her, but perhaps it would work out better this way. She took a sip of her drink, but then placed her hands in her lap as she studied the contents of her cup.

Varric didn't need to know why. As soon as she entered the room, the temperature seemed to drop and it was all stemming from the white-haired elf sitting across the table. Thankfully, Fenris's attention had shifted onto him and there was no mistaking that ominous glare. The dwarf forgot how scary the elf could be sometimes.

"So Varric, what were you doing at the docks today?"

Varric inwardly cringed. Merrill always had a knack for bad timing, but he guessed this was probably the best approach. Better to get it all out in the open now, than have the elf lose what little patience he had left.

"I was securing a ship," Varric replied.

The mage tilted her head ever so slightly, "You're leaving?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"In the next day or two, if my captain doesn't die of old age during that time."

"Where are you going?"

Varric took another drink of his wine before setting it down. He glanced over to Fenris and made sure he had his full attention before continuing.

"That's what I wanted to discuss with you."

He got up and walked to the fireplace. Both elves watched as he pushed on the side of the wood and a hidden compartment snapped open. He reached inside and pulled out a long leather cylindrical case.

"Do you remember our little encounter with those mages the other night, the same night when I got this?" Merrill nodded while Fenris merely took another draft of the wine. "Ever since the Deeproads and Bertrand's…mishap with the idol, I've been doing some research."

"That was a few years ago, Varric."

"It's been a lot of research, which as it turns out, could be exceptionally fruitful."

Varric pushed the various contents of the table aside as he carefully set the leather cylinder down. He opened it and pulled out an ivory scroll case. He slowly unrolled it before them to reveal an ancient, yellowed parchment. Merrill was the first to gain an interest as she caught sight of the old lettering and landmarks splayed across the paper.

"Don't tell me you've planned another Deeproads expedition," Fenris said.

"Not quite," Varric explained. "They are no tunnels or Deeproads this time, but this is no less profitable."

"This is a map of the Dales that leads into the Arbor Wilds," Merrill breathed. "These couldn't possibly exist, could they?" Her fingers ghosted over the yellow parchment as her lips silently mouthed parts of the language written on the side. Finally she was able to tear herself away from it. "This map leads to Dalish ruins I haven't even heard about before. How…How did you find this?"

"Like I said, Daisy. Lots of research and the gold helped out a bit too."

"So what is the point in showing us this?" Fenris stated.

Before Varric could even open his mouth, Merrill excitedly exclaimed, "What do you mean, 'what's the purpose'? Fenris, these ruins lie in the heart of the Arbor Wilds. Think of what we could find, think of what we could learn for our people."

Fenris didn't regard her as he continued to nurse his wine, "Just as eager as ever to go chasing after ghosts and shadows."

In a rare display of frustration, Merrill's little hands balled into fists as her cheeks turned slightly pink.

"It's better that I'm chasing after my past rather than running form it!"

Varric was only just able to pull the mage away and place himself in between the two elves. The lyrium along Fenris's arms were glowing dangerously and the dwarf swore he could feel the prickle of magic form the fearful mage behind him.

"Now hold on a minute! I asked the both of you to come because I have a proposition, not because I wanted to spend the day getting bloodstains out of the wood."

The elf made no reply, but the glow seemed to dim just slightly.

"What do you mean, Varric?"

When he was sure that the warrior wasn't close enough to the mage, he stepped back and picked up the map.

"I'll be the first to say it, whether we want to hear it or not. Hawke's presence benefited each of us in some way over the first few years." Fenris scoffed at his words, but he continued. "But in the end, she left us high and dry. I'll admit, if it wasn't for her, I would probably be just bits of bones the darkspawn would pluck from their teeth, but at the very end, it was every man for himself. And not to sound too ungrateful, but that Seeker was able to track me down rather quickly.

"And Merrill, where else were you expected to go? Hawke said so herself that she would be responsible for you, that she would keep an eye out for you, yet where is she now? And Fenris…Fenris of all of us, you deserve the first go at Hawke, but that isn't my point right now."

"And what is your point, dwarf?" the warrior barked back.

"We take the ship to Ferelden. We go to these ruins and we come back with a finding of the century."

"You are putting a lot of faith into a crumpled piece of parchment and a bunch of decrypt old stones," the warrior replied.

"You see that's where you're wrong. I'm going by my gut instincts, and so far they've not let me down yet."

"No, they've only failed you when you placed your trust in a two-faced mage."

"Alright, you've got a point elf, but even if this expedition is a failure, would it really be that bad for you?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Is is really that hard of a concept to get through that broody little head of yours? I'm asking for your sword in exchange for a free trip across the Waking Sea. Not only would they have harder time tracking you, but there's a great advantage with safety in numbers. At the very least you wouldn't have to sleep with one eye opened."

Fenris stood there silently, his features completely unreadable to the dwarf. Varric regretted mentioning Hawke, but it was too late now and cursed under his breath when the elf turned to the door. But then suddenly, the elf stopped and rounded back on the two of them.

"And who would you have guide us? The Dalish blood mage?" he snapped as he gestured to Merrill. "She gets disoriented if she's in Hightown after dark."

"I think he's right, Varric. I can only translate so much of this and I've never been west of the Frostback Mountains."

"Then it's fortunate that we all know a mutual acquaintance that might be familiar with those lands."

"You don't know that," said Fenris.

"I know enough of Ferelden dialect to know she has spent more time south of the Waking Sea than you or I." Fenris made no reply. Even Merrill eyed him doubtfully. "She's a ranger! How often does one fall into someone's lap? If she can't get us through a forest, then what better option do you suggest?"

"She is very comfortable in the woods," Merrill added. "Even if she hasn't been there before, she at least could find our way back."

"So, are you in?"

"Yes," Merrill replied after only a moment's hesitation.

Varric turned to Fenris. He had not moved from his spot by the door and his expression had changed little. He glared at the mage as if she were the cause of his current dilemma before suddenly cursing in Arcanum and walking back to the table.

"This is a foolish endeavor, but when have I ever heeded such details before?"

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

It had taken her much longer than she had first assumed to track down her contact. Not for the first time did she miss Varric. The dwarf could be long winded at times, but Maker if he wasn't skilled in what he did. There were moments in Lowtown and along the Wounded Coast when Hawke was hard pressed not to believe that Varric didn't have connections in almost everything that was going down in Kirkwall.

Hawke pushed the traitorous thoughts away for what felt like the hundredth time. The pang in her chest was turning into a dull ache, and the more she thought of her old life back in Kirkwall, the more it grew. Better to just bury it for now, forget as much as she could and focus on her business here.

She gave a sharp whistle and the mabari only a few paces away looked up from the pile of trash he had been nosing around in.

"For the last time, Garm, get your head out of the trash and pay attention."

The mabari lowered his head in apology and quickly returned to his person's side. Hawke couldn't help but smirk at the overgrown lout and nudged his shoulder to show there were no lasting qualms. They began walking down the alley again only for a few moments until the mabari was once more investigating another pile of garbage.

Hawke shook her head and continued on. He would catch up eventually. It probably would have been better if she had left Garm back with Anders. But after nearly ten years of having some kind of companion shadow her steps as she carved a living out of Lowtown, the idea of roaming these streets utterly alone didn't sit well with her. It seemed better to at least have a familiar face with her, even if it was half buried in filth most of the time.

Hawke rounded another corner and finally came upon what she had been looking for. It was a ramshackled little house, no different than the hundreds of others that were squeezed and stacked upon one another here. The only reason this one stood out from the others was the nearly invisible glyph that was carved at the base of the beaten up door frame. It was a jagged circle that was reminiscent of the sun with a trident like symbol spearing it through the center and pointing down.

She eased opened the door which did so quietly and much to her surprise. Inside the apartment, the smell of decay hit her nose while what little furniture was inside looked to have been gnawed on through the years by rats and other pests. She and Garm slowly prowled deeper into the small dwelling as she tried to find some trace of what she was looking for.

"Hmm. There's at least an inch of dust on everything here except the floor." Her dog gave an approving growl as he went to work scenting the rest of the room. It wasn't until he reached the back wall that he stepped back and gave a low ruff. "Good dog."

Hawke went down on her knees and ran her deft fingers over the splintering wood of the wall. She rapt a few times, but there was no sound indicating it was hallow. It wasn't until Garm began scratching at the chipping floorboards did she realize she was looking in the wrong place. She instantly saw the hinges that had been so cleverly hidden and pried the trap door back with her fingertips. Once opened, the tiny set of stairs was only wide enough to let one walk abreast and offered no light as you went down. That is, if you weren't a mage.

Hawke produced a small flame in the palm of her hand as her mabari took point and led them down into the darkness. This time, the squeaking of the wood sounded deafening while the bright light of her fire wasn't making it any easier to peer beyond it. She considered snuffing the flame when the click of a crossbow caused her to almost freeze in mid-step.

"That's far enough."

'Balls…'

Garm snarled at the shadows just beyond her sight, but stayed by her side. She realized she was only two short steps from being on level ground and pushed her luck by slowly easing down them.

"I said that's far enough, mage, or would you like a bolt through your forehead. They aren't as flashy as the lightning your kind throw around, but it gets the job done all the same."

She smirked at the comment, "Speaking of jobs, I am expected you know?"

"Are you now?"

"Look, I don't have the time for a noonday chat. Just tell Castillion that I'm here."

There was a muffled grunt from the shadows, "I thought Castillion was done taking jobs from mages."

"That isn't my problem. Our business has never reached a conclusion, so it is far from done."

Garm added another subtle growl, but the guard didn't retreat. Instead, he struck some flint and ignited a lantern nearby. It was then Hawke realized he was not alone. A boy, perhaps no more than ten summers, stood nervously by his side as he clutched a small dagger at his hip.

With his crossbow still partially aimed at her, he kicked the boy in the leg, "Go tell the boss he has a guest."

With nothing more than a muffled grunt, the youth scurried away down a hallway. He returned after a few moments, stared at Hawke, and then nodded to his older companion.

The guard with the crossbow spat and then nodded to the door behind him, "This way."

She followed, but not before making sure there weren't any other henchmen looming in the dark corners. Garm gave a hollow huff from behind. That at least reassured her she wasn't going to get a dagger in the back.

The guard took her down the narrow hallway that was puckered with other doorways with no doors. A few of them had tattered pieces of material nailed to the doorframe in a meager attempt of some form of privacy. Hawke glanced into a few of them, but they contained little more than a few pieces of abandoned bits of furniture and objects. In one, it looked to be a holding place for cargo.

Finally, they reached the end of the hallway and took a right and were immediately stopped by a heavy, iron-braced door. The guard gave three solid knocks and a familiar voice inside bade them to enter. The guard opened the door and held it for her.

A large desk took up the majority of the back of the room. The floor here wasn't dirt but stone. Candles and brackets kept the darkness at bay and even seemed to chase away the dampness, but there was no hiding that ever looming tension that came when entering a slaver's den. A few bookcases filled with what looked like ledgers took up the wall to her left while a partially closed door on the right wall hinted of another set of rooms.

"Champion," a heavily accented, sultry voice drawled from behind the desk. "You're late. By about three months, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. But you were warned of this scenario." She eyed the two shadowy figures looming in the back, but focused on Castillon himself. He leaned back into his chair as the door opened and had been continuously smiling at her the entire time. Though, the Antivian could take his charming smile and go eat cow shit for all she cared.

"Yes, you made that very clear."

"So it is safe to assume that nothing has been 'misplaced'," she replied evenly.

Without another word as he eyed her large dog, he threw a tattered bag onto the table, "The documents you requested. As well as papers for passage to Seheron, per your request."

"And lodging?"

"The funds you gave me quickly ran out after procuring the first two on your list. Even then, I was pinching coins. Count yourself lucky you were able to get that."

"Fine, we weren't intending to stay here long anyways," she replied and quickly stuffed the papers into a pocket inside her robes. She eyed the doorway that led to the other rooms expectantly, but did not reveal more than that. On the inside, she wanted to shout at the oily captain to hurry up and open the door, but when he just sat there, she tried to deny that ever growing lump of cold that was settling in her stomach. "Well?" she finally snapped.

Castillon rose as his fingertips remained settled on the desk, "Well, you see my dear Champion, there have been a few complications."

Hawke felt the ire in her rise, it was better than the debilitating grief that was threatening to strangle her, but she couldn't very well obliterate this vermin on the spot. Not right now at least. Not without answers.

"I told you that the mage was coming to take him," in a controlled voice that surprised even her. "I told you when they were leaving, when to intercept the ship. I practically handed them to you. All you needed was to rush in and take him."

"And the hurricane had other ideas, Champion. I'm good, but I wasn't about to risk my crew and boat over one slave," she slaver explained as he got up and poured himself a drink from a crystal bottle. When he returned, he sat a snifter down in front of Hawke, "You paid me to intercept the ship and retrieve your cargo from its hold, not at the bottom of the ocean. You can't hold me accountable for any unforeseen tragedies that occur such as this."

"Unforeseen tragedies?" Hawke echoed. Before any of Castillon's man could react, she blew the slaver back against the wall and pinned him there with the sharpened end of her staff, "Did you even search the wreckage or did you just pluck the magister from the water the moment you saw him floundering? Just how much did you get for you timely rescue?"

Garm held the others at bay by the door, but Castillon's hand went up to signal to his man to stay where he was. The slaver even had the gall to sneer at her while still trapped by her staff.

"Enough to make up for a blotched deal, Champion or should I say Hawke?" he replied with an equally venomous tone. "I'm not too sure if such a title holds merit, at least not in these lands."

She jabbed him in the chest again if only to wipe that smirk off his face. "Where is he?"

"The mage?" She stabbed him again and saw a splash of red begin to pool at the base of her staff. "You don't get it, do you? The storm shattered the ship against the rocks. The only reason we were able to retrieve the mage was because he and another used their magic to stay above the water long enough. Even then, they were half dead."

"You still haven't anwsered me," she replied coldly. "Did you even look?"

Castillon scoffed, "Woman, even the rats didn't survive."

There was a moment where everything, the room, Garm, the slavers, all of it, appeared to be shrinking away. Instead, there was just the rush of blood in her ears that sounded like the wind screaming at her. Her own heartbeat felt as if it was pummeling her chest from the inside out. All the while, her lungs were screaming at her to breathe, to take in something, but she had forgotten how.

Maker…what had she done?

The click of metal brought her crashing back to reality. Years of honing her instincts made her drop to her knee, releasing the slaver but avoiding the bolt. It found Castillon in the arm instead. She glanced behind her and saw the guard reloading for another shot, but Garm had seized him by the elbow and was already dragging him to the ground. With him distracted, she rounded on Castillon.

The slaver had retrieved his sword as well as a dagger in that brief expanse of time.

She had always liked experimenting with spells and combined with her affinity to primal magic, she was adapt at twisting and shaping the elements in new ways.

This time was no different.

She had learned long ago that all the fluids and liquids inside a person's body were just as malleable as the ice and fire she was so quick to harness.

Her eyes narrowed on the slaver as she concentrated. There was a moment of confusion for him, but too late did he realize what she was doing. He lunged forward in a last ditch effort to land a blow, but his legs were unresponsive. His foot moved only a few inches before lurching to a stop. Even his arms were useless. Hawke continued to concentrate and watched as his pallor became paler and paler. Even his last breath was little more than vapor when his core finally froze over and his lungs became solid.

When she was done, the room was utterly silent except for Garm's soft pants and the crackle of frozen flesh coming from Castillon's frozen corpse. He was still upright. A frozen statue. But as the surge of adrenaline abated after their battle, that same hollow feeling slowly began to consume her again. She glared at her work.

Magic. It could be used in so many ways to rend, tear, and destroy a body. And she had always been curious of its limitations. Had wondered how far she could push a spell. How it could be warped and used in other ways. But she had never used it like that…until now. She had never wanted him to see her use it like this.

She gripped her staff until the metal inlaid in the wood began to cut her hand and with an enraged cry, she brought her staff down onto the remains of the slaver and shattered it.

Garm growled behind her and she turned from Castillon's remains to raise her staff against the huddled form of the youth from before as a plume of fire ignited in her other hand. The boy's face was eerily passive. For all she knew, this was an everyday occurrence for him like it had been for her back in Kirkwall. The only tell that he gave that he was even remotely scared was his hand as he clutched his knife. His knuckles were white.

But that dagger was still in his hand. His eyes were deadly focused on her every move. How could she tell what he was truly thinking? How could she predict what he would do next? If she let him go, would he just hide in the shadows and strike then? Would he wait until her back was turned to drive the knife home?

'Am I really considering this?'

She threw the fire into the stone wall with a shout and then rounded on the youth.

"Get out!"

Not waiting to see if she would change her mind, he bolted from the corner like a routed hare and disappeared.

She didn't quite remember how she left after that. Perhaps it had been Garm. Maybe she was just well versed in being able to retrace her steps. Whatever it was, she only knew that in that expanse of time, all she could think of was him…and what she had done.

This…this was her fault.

As twisted and warped as her means were, her intention had been the driving force.

She had been a coward, she knew, but she could not find any other another choice. Anders was losing a part of himself every day. Her brother and her mother…gone. She knew that it was only a matter of time until it was finally all going to come crashing down around them. And then Anders made sure that it did.

But just when she thought she had anticipated everything, when she had thought she had finally navigated past these treacherous waters, she once more found herself floundering.


Hey everyone, so I've been contemplating future chapters and from the way it's looking, I may have to bump up the rating due to violence, gore, language, ect. So this is just a heads up and the rating will be applied to the appropriate chapter when it comes out. I'll make sure to point out the change at the beginning of said chapter.

Beyond that, thanks for all who reviewed. See ya next time!