Sorry! I got carried away with this one and it became a bit of a beast.

Thank you to everyone who's been following this story... it's really encouraging for my first fic!

...

Although she felt much better when she woke, Hawke was still thoroughly unnerved. She had always been the one to save another; how weak must she seem in front of those who looked up to her? What right did she have to lead the rag-tag group? She was meant to look after them, and instead of doing that she had put Merrill and Varric in a potentially lethal situation. Because of her, Fenris had been hurt. Anders had been forced to waste vital lyrium potions on her. All because she had left Isabella behind. Had the Rivaini been there, she and Varric wouldn't have been talking. They would have paid more attention. She had put her personal feelings above the safety of those she led.

Of course, Hawke knew realistically that this wasn't the case. Varric had a sharp eye for traps and potential ambushes- much sharper than the pirate thief's. If he hadn't noticed anything it was very unlikely that they could have pre-empted the attack. And if she hadn't left Isabella with the mages, it was quite likely that she would have not been in a position to save Merrill. Or instruct Alistair's men to action.

Hawke knew these things, yet still she couldn't push the feeling of guilt from her mind… nor the images of Fenris being thrown across the room. He had not come to her after battle as he normally would. He had let himself be replaced by Alistair. Hawke wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but it hurt. Far more than she could have imagined.

She had cradled the hope that Varric was right, that Fenris hadn't been… intimate… with Isabella… that they would get over this stupid argument and reconcile. But that seemed redundant now.

"Are you alright? You seem… quieter… than usual." Alistair observed. Hawke looked back to the Warden. They had set out for the deepest thaig on their map quite a while ago, but she realised she hadn't spoken once. Still, the thoughts that troubled her were not ones she wished to share with someone she barely knew. So she did the only thing she could think of… evade the conversation at all costs.

"Really? How so?"

"You're not talking."

Hawke rolled her eyes in his direction but couldn't stop the involuntary chuckle. "You have a talent for 'stating the obvious'…"

"And you have a talent for 'avoiding the subject'… which incidentally is something we have in common. There's something on your mind; tell me."

"I can't imagine what you're talking about." Hawke replied in a serious tone, warning him to drop this line of enquiry.

"Oh, pleeeaaaaase? We can have a heart to heart! Be best buddies. And when we get to the first camp we can play pranks on them when they sleep! I'm thinking charcoal moustaches…" He grinned mischievously.

Hawke gave him a tight smile, wondering how he could be so glib given what had happened with the darkspawn. It was as if he wasn't concerned at all. "Your men took damage alongside mine, and yet still you crack jokes?"

"No one died. That's what's important, right? Besides, what am I here for if not to provide witty banter and hilarious interludes?"

"Kill darkspawn? Protect your men?"

"Well, yes, and that…" Alistair watched her turn away and frowned slightly. "There is something wrong, isn't there?"

Hawke sighed. "People could have died today." She hoped if she gave him just a little, that it would be enough. That Alistair would stop poking.

"There is always chance of death in battle; no one walks into a fight without accepting that. You were at Ostagar, you should understand that better than anyone…"

"That's different."

The look of utter confusion on Alistair's face was priceless, but rather than amuse Hawke, it just frustrated her. Maker! She was going to have to explain it to him, wasn't she? Either that or be bombarded by questions until they parted ways…

"You know, I'm not actually seeing what the problem is."

Hawke sighed heavily. "I got it wrong today. People got hurt because of me. If you, Fenris and Donnic hadn't got there when you did…"

The bafflement in Alistair's expression only intensified. "So let me get this straight… you're upset because you're blaming yourself for succumbing to a number of darkspawn so large, that it took almost every fighter we have to push them back?"

"Varric and Fenris were injured…"

"You fought to defend Varric. For all you know he would be dead if you hadn't found that strength within you to stand and fight. And Fenris… well, I'm not going to lie; the way he went mental on that genlock that was dragging you away reminded me of a mabari at lunchtime…"

Hawke seemed to take pause, "what?"

"Oh, nothing. What I'm trying to say is that in spite of being completely outnumbered, you didn't show an ounce of weakness, you didn't give quarter and you didn't get it wrong. You put yourself in harm's way to protect those you lead… I see that as a sign of a courageous woman and ally. Someone to look up to. Not someone who should be beating themselves up about something that could have, but didn't happen…"

Hawke found herself smiling… comforted. "Thank you, Alistair."

"Not a problem." The sandy haired King smiled with a slight cock of his head, "I do know what it's like to fall in battle, you know. To feel so frustrated at your own helplessness, to know you can't defend those who would give their lives defending you… Wynne had to magic me up so many times I felt like her little Warden puppet on occasion…"

Hawke smirked, "Her little Warden puppet?"

"Yes… the amount of times she made me dance for her amusement."

"… I do hope you're not going to suggest…"

"Ahhh, yes… all those stripteases…"

Hawke could not mask her usual smirk. "Maker! I wished I hadn't asked."

"I'm rather glad that you did. Now I've got one of my 'little secrets' out of the way. So how about you?"

"Well, there was that one time when Varric and I got really drunk in The Hanged Man…"

"… I meant a secret."

"Oh, I've got lots of those."

"Care to share…?" He waggled his eyebrows in a comedic manner.

"Nope."

"That is so cruel… it's tit for tat, you know…"

"You don't actually expect me to believe that you were forced to do stripteases for a mage?"

"A really old mage. With wrinkles."

Hawke was laughing now, in spite of herself. It was surprising that she could, when just a few minutes ago she had wished for a hole to open up and swallow her. "Wrinkles, eh? Guess I'm safe then…"

"Now you're trying to second guess me… it's not just wrinkles…"

"I think you already know the answer," Isabella chuckled.

Donnic sighed to himself, glancing at the pirate keeping stride with him. Why had he ever agreed to this stupid riddle game in the first place? He should have known it would descend into cheap innuendo and thinly veiled references to 'raising the mast' and 'firing the canon' as soon as he remembered who he was playing with. Dealing with. Dammit.

"I give up…"

"You surrender?" She placed a hand on his shoulder and he stopped in his tracks. "Good. To the victor go the spoils," she continued, closing the gap between them with a sway of her hips.

Irritated, Donnic brushed her hand aside and continued down the passageway. By the Maker, the woman was persistent. Ironically, if this had happened a few months ago he'd probably have jumped at the chance; but then if he wasn't with Aveline, the woman wouldn't be interested in a low-ranking guard like him. It was obvious that she was just trying to rile the Guard Captain's feathers. For some reason the pirate seemed to enjoy torturing her. And him… apparently…

"We should get back to the soldiers sooner rather than later. We're only here to check the passages, not to get lost."

"Such a shame, if we got lost together…"

Donnic gave a shudder and a sigh simultaneously. He was going to kill Hawke for putting him in this situation. Or even better, he was going to wait until they got back to Kirkwall and have Aveline do it for him. She was far more brutal…

"I have no intention of getting lost. With anyone." He picked up his pace.

"Wait. I have another one."

Oh dear Maker. "Go on, then…"

"What's lost in the dark, having trouble in his tights and has a problem admitting what he wants?"

"You're not even trying anymore."

He saw Isabella smirk in the gloom. This was getting beyond ridiculous now. He turned to face her and waved a mailed finger at her face. "Here's one for you. What's got a questionable reputation and needs to be quiet?" He paused. "Right now."

Isabella stared at him for a moment, almost innocently. "Are you trying to make some sort of point? Anyway, you didn't guess mine so…"

"Maker help me, what is it this time?"

"You need to strip off down to your underwear and cluck like a chicken…"

Donnic hoped that Aveline would be particularly sadistic…

"So… enlighten me, Elf."

"Hmmmm?" Fenris turned away from the fire they had built to look to the dwarf.

"When I said 'don't think; just do', what did you think that meant…?"

"You want me to walk up to her and grope her?" The swordsman asked sarcastically.

"No… Maker! I don't think after a beating like that we'd recognise you afterwards…"

"Then what exactly did you expect me to do? We're down here in defence of Kirkwall… I can't exactly tell that… venhedis to…"

"Woah, woah… you're going about this whole thing the wrong way, my broody friend. This is an opportunity. A chance to let Hawke know how much you care…"

"She knows how much I care."

"…You yelled at her for thinking you'd given her a rose, Elf."

"Well, what was I supposed to think?" Fenris waved his hands in agitation. "For years, Hawke and I… we've never talked about it… but there's always been something there. Or I thought there was." Fenris felt a little uncomfortable revealing this to Varric. But he needed to speak to someone, and after the dwarf's earlier advice he seemed like the most biddable ally. Fenris accepted the flask that Varric handed him and took a large swig. The elf mused for a moment, much more than his pride was at stake… he may as well swallow it now and get used to the idea.

"Go on…" The beardless dwarf intruded on the swordsman's thoughts.

"Well, you told me that a King was flirting with Hawke, a rose turns up on her doorstep the next day… and then the first words out of his mouth when he sees her are 'flower lady'."

"Ahhh, you think the Warden King has been slipping some horticulture in Hawke's direction?"

"…well when you say it like that it sounds ridiculous."

"It is ridiculous. So what? Someone besides you has noticed what a catch Hawke is… or did you think every other man in the city was blind?"

Fenris grunted. "Well… no…"

"I mean it didn't bother you so much when Blondie…"

"That was different."

"How was that different?"

"Hawke wasn't interested."

Varric chuckled. "How do you know? At the end of the day, Elf, you won her and then you didn't claim her. Someone like Hawke isn't going to sit on the shelf for long… And I don't even know what you were thinking leaving with the Rivaini…"

"I was angry."

"You were stupid."

"Nothing. Happened."

"I know that, but does Hawke?"

"I did it to… I don't know… make her jealous, perhaps? Maybe I was hoping that she'd stop me."

"Well, that doesn't matter now, what matters is getting her back."

"If she even wants me anymore… I feel like such a fool…"

"Trust me Elf, she's got a thing for you. We'll work something out… just don't give her that cheesy line about being a night-light with in-built matches…"

"I have never said that in my life…" Fenris scowled.

"Only according to your stories…."

….

Anders was still deep in thought. Of course his role as a healer had kept him busy; he had made stew for Merrill and the King's men, he had folded his bandages properly and ensured his ingredients were all on stand-by in his bag.

He had felt something wrong when Hawke had walked away into the darkness with Alistair. He had met the man once before- though he doubted that the mighty King of Ferelden remembered it- and Anders knew that he was a good man. But it was not the man's honour that made him wary. It was something much bigger.

The veil felt thin. Dangerously thin. He had noticed as soon as he had conjured flame, and it had burned with the same pale blue as Justice's light. He could not voice his fears to Hawke, largely because he did not know what they were himself. But something here was wrong.

"You know Anders, if you never play with him, Lightning will never respect you as his master."

The mage was pulled from his thoughts and looked to the dark haired elf, who was tickling the furless rat on its stomach. Even though he lived in Darktown and had seen more than his fair share of vermin, Anders was fairly certain he had never seen such a desperate specimen as the 'appropriately' named 'Lightning'. Truth be told, if it hadn't been Hawke who asked, he would have found a way to dispose of the beast. Or set it free. Either seemed just as kind.

"I'll find time soon enough, you just keep him company for now, Merill." Maker, she was hard work. He wondered fleetingly if knocking her unconscious and sending her back to the Dalish with a courier and a forged note of apology to the Keeper would be feasible…

Merrill sighed, she reminded him of a sulking child. Anders rolled his eyes and cursed Hawke beneath his breath. He wasn't sure to what extent the swordswoman was aware of how she had him wrapped around her little finger… but whenever he ended up in these awkward situations he invariably had her to blame. He grunted. "Bring the scabby thi… I mean Lightning here, then. You can help me crush this elfroot."

Merrill bounced over enthusiastically; Anders noted immediately that not only did she very definitely not even look at the elfroot she was supposed to be helping with; she also didn't put the rat down. "He's so sweet when he wiffles…"

"I'll take your word for it."

"Will you give him a kiss?"

Anders blinked when suddenly there was a very mangy mass being held inches from his face. "Maker! No!... I mean… not whilst preparing healing potions, Merrill. It doesn't seem very hygienic."

Merrill's eyes widened with dismay and she withdrew the rat back to her chest. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you found him in the sewer, Merrill. Have you even washed him?"

"Oh, I didn't think of that. Being honest, I'd never been in a sewer before. I can't say that it smelled very nice; it took me forever to wash my clothes. I never knew stagnant water could smell so horrible."

"You think that smell was stagnant… yes, that's probably what it was." Anders sighed. The contents and functions of a sewer was a topic he very definitely did not want to educate Merrill in.

"You do like him, don't you Anders?"

"Of course…" Anders knew that his tone betrayed him. He knew that the somewhat sarcastic response would hurt her. Anders was torn, he didn't want to upset her, but already he craved for some peace and quiet. Merrill may be oblivious most of the time, but she couldn't have missed that…

How wrong he was.

"As much as you like me…?"

Anders fought the overwhelming urge to be cruel. "Um…"

He wished he had taken the opportunity when the coy grin spread across Merrill's face. "As much as you like Hawke?"

Anders almost dropped his mortar and pestle. "What?" He could feel his cheeks redden.

"Well, you're always nice to her."

"Merrill, I'm always nice to…"

"Name one other person you're always nice to."

Anders hesitated. He had often had harsh words with Merrill about her magic practices… and Isabella about her sexual ones. He'd accused Aveline of collaborating with the Templars, he'd insulted Sebastian's blind religious views, teased Varric about his crooked schemes… and it was no secret that he bore Fenris no love…

Damn.

"… that doesn't mean!"

"I thought there was something going on for a while." Merrill reflected wistfully, whilst, to Ander's horror, she popped Lightning onto the table. In the middle of the roots he had already finished. Yet the elf did not see his glare as she turned to lean against the table. His herb table on which he always prepared the potions that saved lives, the table he had carried to the Deep Roads himself… "But then I noticed her spending more time with Fenris, and I remember thinking 'Oh, dear. Poor Anders.'"

Anders' jaw clenched. More than anything he wanted to throttle her…

"But Hawke's very pretty, isn't she? Not pretty like Isabella, but Isabella always tells me she's sexy not pretty. I don't really know the difference. And she's really nice… Hawke, not Isabella… not to say Isabella's not nice as well…"

Anders sucked in a calming breath and closed his eyes. You knew this wouldn't be easy. You're doing this as a favour to Hawke. And to serve the people of Kirkwall. You have managed to control your rage in the face of injustice and persecution. You can tolerate a few weeks with…

"I mean… do you think Hawke's sexy?"

Anders opened his eyes. "Go and wash the damn rat and I'll give it a kiss."

Merrill smiled, and went to ask the men for a bowl. Anders looked down to his furless companion. "Is it wrong that I prefer you?"

….

"It was Varric and Fenris at the deeper thaig, wasn't it?" Alistair queried.

"You know it is. Merrill and Anders at the crossroads, Isabella and Donnic closer to the surface as second line of…"

"I know that."

Hawke shot him a baffled expression. "Then why did you ask?"

"I just wanted to prepare myself mentally."

"Don't tell me you're claustrophobic because you're in the wrong place…" Hawke chuckled.

"No, I mean for speaking to that elf again, I rather get the feeling he doesn't like me, as such…"

"Don't take it personally. He doesn't like anyone." Hawke heard her own tone harden at the mention of Fenris, yet her stomach twisted. She hadn't thought about that.

They hadn't spoken since he had left with Isabella… even when he had gone off with Alistair's scouting group he had announced his intentions to her and stalked away without waiting for her to reply.

"Really? He doesn't like anyone…?" Alistair raised an eyebrow quizzically. His tone hinted at something.

"What exactly are you getting at, Alistair?"

"Well, I rather thought that the two of you…"

"The two of us… what? Wrestle old women of an evening wearing funny hats? Have tea-parties in frilly dresses? Sneak into the Qunari compound when all's quiet to put the Arishok's fingers in warm water so he…"

"Ahhhh, now you're avoiding the subject with humour. Clever… unfortunately for you I invented avoiding awkward conversations with jokes."

"But doesn't that imply that you're funny on occasion?" Hawke grinned.

"Ouch!" He laughed and held an arm across his breastplate and staggered as if she had struck him. "Right in the chest."

"The best place to aim."

"You wouldn't be saying that if I was aiming for your…"

"If you value your life you will not finish that sentence."

"Sorry…" He chuckled, "But you know what I'm talking about." The transition in the man's voice made Hawke stop and somehow she felt her defences were no longer there. It reminded her of the way Fenris' voice had changed when he was with her and they were alone. From cutting and harsh, to soft and warm. It always made her feel special, as ridiculous as that sounded.

"Is there anything…?" Alistair asked again softly.

Hawke sighed, "Not that I'm aware of. I used to think so… but…" She frowned to herself. She had no reason to think that Fenris had given her feelings a second thought, why should she consider his?

Alistair must have caught sight of her expression, because he intruded on her thoughts in a comforting tone. "I see."

Hawke gave a dry laugh. "Do you?"

"Well… no, actually. I'd be lying if I said I did."

"That makes two of us." Hawke gave the man and small, but genuine smile which he returned, holding her gaze for a few moments. Hawke almost cursed aloud as she felt the heat in her cheeks spread across her face. She turned away to face the darkened corridor before them once more. "This part of the path seems a little steeper…" She mumbled, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

"And narrower." Alistair stated, holding the flame torch before them and into the passage. "I'll go first with the light. Then I can hold it back for you. It may take a little longer, but at least we're less likely to break our necks." The heavily armoured King made his way forward carefully. Once he had negotiated himself down the first drop he turned and held the torch up.

Hawke stared at the illuminated figure incredulously. "You do know that doesn't help… All you've done is move the shadows, I still can't see the path."

"Oh… alright." Alistair shifted slightly closer to her and held out his hand, angling the torch behind him. "I can see where you're stepping, so you should be fine."

Hawke had more than a few reservations about the exercise, but she wasn't about to tell Alistair what they were. She leaned forward to take his hand… she couldn't reach. Hawke shuffled forward. She leaned forward again… too far. She missed the offered support as her foot slipped.

As Hawke fell, she heard a high-pitched yelp come from her own mouth, and she desperately threw her arms out to grab onto whatever she could to save herself, closing her eyes instinctively. Before her feet hit the floor, a firm grip wrapped around her waist, pulling her forward; she heard the clash of metal.

When Hawke opened her eyes, she was staring at a very ornate metal breastplate. She swallowed and the blonde looked up to realise Alistair's face was just inches from hers.

"Well… that was a good catch… um… sorry… bad joke…" She saw him blush.

"Ummm… Alistair?"

"What is it?"

"You can put me down now."

His blush intensified. "I knew that…"

…..

Varric watched the darkness.

Movement. He was sure he had seen it just a moment ago. A little rustle accompanied by a swift change of shadow. If Varric had blinked he would never have known it was there. But he hadn't. And he did.

"Something wrong?" Fenris asked, approaching. The elf had a bowl of stew in either hand, but when he Varric held up a gesture indicating for him to halt, Fenris set them to the ground and his hand went to the sword hilt at his back.

"Get the men ready." Varric instructed quietly. "Make sure no one panics. We need to act as natural as humanly possible… maybe it'll just carry on walking…"

"What is it?"

"Don't know, Elf. But this far down in the Deep Roads…? It isn't likely to be anything good, is it?"

Fenris gave a low grunt of agreement and Varric sensed him retreat towards the men.

Varric had had a bad feeling about this so called 'thaig' from the word 'go'. Like the primeval thaig they had discovered with Bartrand, the markings were so ancient that Varric could make neither head nor tail of them. There were also slots in the towering walls around them, long horizontal ones spaced evenly and consistently all around the room. They appeared to be some kind of shelves... though Varric surmised that they were more likely the mark of something more sinister. He didn't know exactly what, but his gut told him that something was wrong.

There was one path before Varric that led further into the Deep Roads. The dwarf knew nothing had come in or out of that tunnel while he had been on watch. So where had that shadow fled to?

"Hawke…" She heard the elf's voice behind her, far softer than he had spoken to her previously. Varric smirked to himself: Go get her, Elf.

"Fenris?" Hawke seemed surprised at his change of approach.

"What? You're not going to say hello to me?" The Warden King asked jokingly, though the dwarf could sense a little hostility in his tone.

"Apologies, greetings 'venhedis'…"

"You know I actually speak some Arcanum…" The King answered coldly.

Varric couldn't stifle the laugh.

"Really, how unfortunate…" The elf replied with more than a little sarcasm.

"What exactly is going on here?" Hawke interjected, sounded very puzzled.

"Ask him." Both men accused simultaneously.

"… alright."

Varric's laughter came to a halt as Hawke started demanding the two to behave themselves. The dwarf could only imagine the look on each man's face, being chastised by a slip of a swordswoman whilst glaring daggers into each other's foreheads…

As Varric's eyes opened, his blood ran cold. Dark shadows seemed to flicker as if the walls themselves were moving.

And in the middle of the passage, barely illuminated by the light of the camp, a figure standing upright. Both weapons drawn.

The rogue squinted.

It looked like a genlock, except… it didn't hold itself like a genlock. It was stood too straight, too proud. Why was it not hunched over? Why hadn't he heard it's abhorrent, low chuckle? And those wisps, that extra volume around the face… was that a beard? A dwarf? That couldn't be right. Varric didn't have time for a more detailed analysis. "HAWKE!"

Within seconds, the swordswoman had passed him, running full pelt at the shadowy figure, Alistair and Fenris close behind her.

When Hawke got to mere metres away, the creature- whatever it was- turned on its heel and disappeared into the tunnel. Varric frowned as he hefted Bianca into his grip and began running; if he didn't know better he'd say they were running towards… an ambush…

"Hawke!"

She didn't hear him. She had already faded into the darkness ahead.

Varric sped to her. Shit! How could he not have seen this coming from the start?! Why else would the creature have made itself so obvious?

Yet as quickly as Varric moved, every twist in that tunnel did not reveal the armoured blonde and her faithful troops.

Varric's heart jumped when he saw the back of Fenris; Hawke and Alistair only feet in front of him. They had come to a halt. But he could tell by the elf's stance that he was about to move again.

Varric cast his eyes about desperately, the light from the King's torch did little to aid the dwarf's swift examination, he saw movement on a ledge before them… he saw a large darkened panel on the floor…

"It's a trap!"

Varric reached forward and succeeded in grabbing Fenris' scabbard, he dragged him back off the dark stone. As they tumbled backwards to the ground, the dwarf heard the elf scream out for Hawke, he saw her blonde hair disappear into the engulfing shadow…

He felt the elf surge forward, still calling desperately for her…

His calls into the dark remained unanswered.