Some NSFW stuff happens.

Hawke and Anders were scouring Darktown, searching for this artifact that the letter had mentioned, but all they ended up doing was scratching their heads. Whatever it was, it wasn't down here. Anders suggested the sewers and Hawke wrinkled her nose in disapproval. "It could be down there," shrugged the blonde and the black haired woman rolled her eyes. "So could a dragon. Doesn't mean I am going."

"Touche," the healer laughed. When it was just the two of them, (or rather three, if he counted Justice, and he really did have to count Justice), he found it was easier to joke with Hawke. It reminded him of his early days as a Grey Wardem, traveling with the Warden-Commander. She was light hearted too, and never failed to appreciate a good joke. Anders knew he was more somber these days, burdened with the plight of the mages, but it was nice to smile every once in a while. He forgot how good it felt to be in company of good friends who could all laugh even though they faced down certain doom at any possible moment.

Hawke flashed her trademark cheeky smile. "Shall we try the Gallows then? It seems like a likely place as any…" she trailed off. Neither mage was willing to just saunter into the Templar stronghold, even with Hawke's status of Champion protecting them.

"There is a back way, into the Gallows," Anders said slowly. "I, uh, use it to help others escape the Circle and the Knight-Commander."

Raising an eyebrow, Hawke said nothing, but allowed the healer to continue. "You can't tell anyone about the entrance though, it will end up doing more harm than good if you do."

She nodded, and extended her hand. "I won't tell any one, Anders. Lead on." He all but beamed, knowing his friend would keep her word. Still, there was a feeling of trepidation, as he always got, a feeling of despair in the pit of his stomach. He hated the blighted Gallows and even when he was helping the mages escape, he had to prepare himself for it mentally each time. He was terrified that there would be an ambush waiting, that they would capture him and turn him Tranquil, like they had done to Karl, to so many others. He stopped short of a hole in the wall, not terribly far from his clinic. He looked around, making sure that no eyes were on them, and he motioned to Hawke to follow him. He sucked in his stomach and slide in the hole, turning sideways so that his lean frame could fit. Hawke frowned. She wasn't sure she could get through there, even though she wasn't much bigger than the mage, she did have breasts and those were not tamed easily. She rolled her shoulders back and cracked her neck, taking a deep breath and slid in after Anders.

It was a tight fit, but not impossibly so. She was thankful she was not claustrophobic. She couldn't imagine Varric doing this, that was for certain. He would grumble about how "not every dwarf liked to be underground" and loudly complain he could be having a mug of ale at the tavern, instead of traipsing about in the dirt like a common nug. Still, it was unsettling, having the walls pressing in on her, and she shuffled along side of Anders, sticking closer to him than she would normally have. She didn't fancy getting trapped here, and Maker knows what would happen then. She suspected the Knight-Commander would be pleased with her disappearance and not make any effort to find her, while Aveline would literally tear the city apart, brick by brick if she had to. She sneezed, as dirt and dust floated in front of her face, certain that there was snot hanging from her nose. The passage was too narrow for her to get her hand up to her face to check so she was left twitching her nose, annoyed.

Eventually the passage grew larger, and Hawke wiped her face, thankful that Anders hadn't seen her with a giant booger hanging from her nostril. He would have laughed, and told everyone that the Champion of Kirkwall walked around with boogers hanging from her nose, and that she only beat the Arishok because he was disgusted at her hygiene. She looked around, they were in a cavern now, probably under the lake that led to the Gallows.

Anders crept forward, lightly stepping around the myriad of bones, stones, and other debris that littered the cave floor. She followed his lead, stepping as quietly as she could. The healer had more of a sense of stealth than she did, as he was used to running from Templars and Maker knows what else, while she always blundered head on into whatever trouble she decided to find herself in that day. She admired his resolve for his freedom, because she would not like to hide out in caves when the Templars came looking.

Anders ran a hand through his hair, loosening the tie that held it back, shaking out any dust or spiders that had gotten caught. After a moment, he sighed and tied it all back again, albeit a little haphazardly. Hawke stifled a giggle, wondering how many times a day he did that in frustration or anxiety. Anders cocked an eyebrow and placed a finger to his lips, indicating for her to be quiet. He crept around, making sure that the coast was clear, and then started whispering to Hawke.

"You have to be quiet down here. There are lyrium smugglers and Maker knows what else," he breathed, his mouth near her ear. "We will have to deal with them, but we shouldn't kill anyone unless we have to. The Templars will notice if their men go missing and they don't come up with any lyrium." Hawke nodded, to show that she understood, and the pair crept quietly down the cavern path, avoiding any major missteps.

They could hear voices ahead of them, the cave walls carrying the sounds with a slight echo. Smugglers, they guessed, and padded forward, both gripping their staves tightly. Ahead, in the darkness, they saw a torch light, fire flickering in the hand of a smuggler. Dwarf, surface caste, probably a member of the Carta. He was talking to his fellow dwarves, telling them to get a move on with the cargo, they needed to hurry up lest the Knight-Commander came down here and caught them. Apparently she disapproved of the Templars extra rations of the dust, and with good reason. Templars hopped up on the blue stuff led to addiction and erratic behavior.

Hawke counted seven all together, and she signaled to Anders that they should strike first. He nodded in agreement and mouthed "no killing". She rolled her eyes and flapped her hand, agreeing even though she felt it would be better to dispatch them entirely, she would do as he asked. It was his secret hideaway, not hers, so she would play by his rules. For now.

Anders began wiggling his fingers, drawing a sigil for paralysis, and Hawke followed suit. Between the two of them, they should be able to capture them all. Both spells unleashed green glyphs on the ground, right in front of the dwarven entourage, and they stepped into the trap. Quickly, Anders cast another spell, sleep this time, to force them into slumber, so that Hawke and he could pass by unnoticed. When they woke, which would be hours later, they should not remember what happened. Hopefully.

The pair of mages sidled past the frozen smugglers and continued on their way. The cavern widened out, and there was no more evidence of anyone else about. Anders visibly relaxed, and he pointed up the path a bit to Hawke. "See, if you follow that there, you end up right underneath the Gallows courtyard. A small grate can be removed, and if you drop down, you can end up in this cavern." He shifted his weight. "It's been getting harder and harder to move mages out of the Circle. They keep eyes on them at all times now." He shuddered. "I think we will have to go the other way, though," he pointed in the other direction. "There are more paths that split off of this one, and it did look like there were some ruins down further on, but once I saw that it didn't lead to the Gallows, I quit following the path."

"Mm," Hawke hummed, lips pressed together tightly. Ruins. Tevinter ruins. This was their best bet to find out what this magister wanted in Kirkwall. She stepped ahead, taking the lead and Anders fell in step behind her. The two picked their way down the path, careful not to step on rats or tripping on bones. This area was littered with more than its share of skeletons, Hawke was sure that they were headed the right direction. The path took them downward, the air getting colder as they went, so much so that the mages both had to conjure little fire bobbles to keep them warm and generate light. The air was eerie and still, and it made Anders chuckle nervously. He cleared his throat and tried to get a grip on himself. Andraste's flaming ass, did it have to be so unnerving down here?

"I'm surprised you and Fenris are still a thing," he said in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. Part of him was curious as to what the Champion saw in the surly elf, the other part was hoping she would get angry and chastise him, anything to take his mind off of the dark, still air clawing at his eyes and his throat. He did not like this cavern, it reminded him too much of the blighted Deep Roads. "Given that he nearly lopped your shoulder off."

"Are you still on about the whole shoulder thing, Anders?" Marion clucked disapprovingly. "You know very well that he is skittish around magic, and there was a demon-"

"-But you're not a demon," the healer interjected. "He shouldn't have attacked you."

"I'm well aware that he shouldn't have attacked me, thank you," she said coolly. "And of course I have you to thank that my arm even exists, and still works, mostly fine." She flexed her fingers. Occasionally she would get numbness and tingling in her finger tips, but it wasn't often, just when the weather was bad or she slept on her arm funny.

The blonde noticed her fidgeting and scowled. "I wouldn't have had to heal your arm if the stubborn oaf didn't try to kill you. Kill you, Hawke, in the Fade. You would have been made Tranquil." He shuddered. The thought of anyone he knew becoming Tranquil scared him. He never wanted to be made Tranquil, would rather die first, would rather see the whole world burn before he lost his connection to the Fade and to his magic. It terrified him to his very core, and knowing that Hawke could have ended up like that over something as stupid as that elf made him burn with anger. It only made it worse that Hawke seemed so flippant about the whole thing.

"I know, Anders, and trust me, I was really upset about it too." Hawke looked back at him, and where he expected anger or annoyance on her face, he only saw sadness. Her normally chipper smile replaced by a grim slash, blue eyes lidded heavily and world weary.

"It's just… he wasn't wrong, you know?" she said quietly. "The demon, it was a tempting offer. It offered so much power and promise. It showed me Bethany, Anders. My little sister." Hawke broke off, a lump in her throat welling up. She coughed to clear it, and continued on. "I wasn't going to take the offer, just trying to goad the demon into slipping up. I had no idea you had sent him into the Fade."

"I'm sorry, Marian, if I could have come to you, you know that I would have-" Anders started to say. stopped himself, and started again. "I haven't been in the Fade since Justice, and it is...disturbing. He wants to return and I want to let him, but we both know he can't go, not until we see this cause through."

Hawke said nothing, merely nodding her agreement.

"And it was my fault sending him in, I just didn't think he would attack you. I thought maybe he might find you trapped and coax you out of the Fade, that you would be able to trust him."

"It's his lyrium!" Hawke blurted out, suddenly ashamed of herself. "I… can't give it up. It's so potent, and powerful, and the demon was right, I could use it to control him if I wanted to, I could use it to do so many wonderful, horrible things… and I can't let myself. But I am so tempted."

Anders didn't know what to say, he knew it was easy to get addicted to lyrium, and he had suspected she had overdosed when she was trapped in the Fade, but to hear her admit that she was addicted to it was another matter entirely.

"You can ease yourself off of it," he tried to say reassuringly, but Hawke shook her head. "No, you don't understand. It's not just the lyrium, Anders, it's the blood too."

Anders stopped, staring at the back of her head, a look of horror dawning on his face. "Hawke, you're not… using blood magic, are you?"

She wheeled around. "Maker's balls, Anders, no! It's the lyrium, it's infused in every part of him, in his skin, his muscles, his blood! And when his blood starts pumping, like during a fight, or- or sex-" she stuttered, before regaining her composure and continuing. "His whole body sings with it, and it's like he is a living vein of lyrium, that I can tap into at will, or sometimes, unwillingly. It crackles through my whole body, and it is just so much more potent than the stuff that they have us drink out of flasks."

Blondie scratched his chin, thoughtfully stroking his stubble. He supposed that did make sense, blood and lyrium were both powerful, and together could combine into a new, raw force. "Do you think that is what that magister wants? His untapped power?"

"That would be my guess." Hawke shrugged.

Neither of them knew what to say to her admission of addiction. There wasn't much to say or to do about it, except wean her off of it, if she even wanted to get off of it. It was some time before Hawke spoke again, quietly.

"Anders, I do love him," she sighed. "It would be all the easier if I weren't a mage, but I do have to consider that he has had a pretty shitty life, what with being a slave. Honestly, I think being a slave and being a Circle mage are one and the same, and I can't imagine how that would be."

Anders knew how it felt to be trapped in a Circle. After several escape attempts, he finally managed to be rid of the Circle, only to become a Grey Warden. Not that he blamed the Warden-Commander in her decision to conscript him, nor was he bitter. When he was under her care, the Wardens was a fine outfit. It was only after she had reassigned her charges that things became increasingly suffocating for the mage. He resented the Deep Roads and had to give up his cat, he knew it was only a matter of time before they started harassing him and keeping tabs on him about his magic use, and the threat of demons. They didn't take too kindly to Justice, who was bound to Warden Kristoff's corpse, and called him a demon. Anders had thought it the perfect solution, to aid his friend and to escape the insufferable Wardens.

It turned out that taking Justice inside of him hadn't been the smartest move that the mage had made, but it was not one that he would change. Now that he had touched a spirit of the Fade, he felt even more adamant that the Rite of Tranquility was an affront to all that was holy.

He couldn't help but feel a little envious of Hawke's upbringing, always an apostate, never a slave to the Circle, now she was a noblewoman in Kirkwall, savior of the city. And he was as he had always been, an outsider, wanting freedom but never finding it, even now as an apostate, he was bound by this cause, securing the freedom for all mages across Thedas. He huffed a long breath of air through his nose, shaking his head slightly, trying to regain focus on the task at hand.

"Did I ever tell you that I don't like caves?" he said, seriously. "They remind me of the Deep Roads."

"I didn't much enjoy the Deep Roads myself, can't imagine anyone would," Hawke said absently, pausing to study some carved symbol on the wall. They were getting closer to the ruin, now, she was seeing man made flag stones set into the cave floor, and there were signs of craftsmanship all around. She tilted her head to get a better glance at it. "Do you know what this symbol is? It's everywhere down here…" her voice trailed off as her fingers traced the deep gouges, feeling the chisel marks of the tool that made it, still jagged, even though the ruin was clearly over a thousand years old.

"Tevinter, probably" Anders said, pushing his face against the stone, his bobble of flame bouncing off the cavern wall, casting long, flickering shadows across Hawke's face, the walls, and the floor. "It looks like a dragon."

"That's not that unusual, though, right?" Hawke inquired, turning her head to the other side, as if the different angle would enlighten her. "They worshipped dragons, calling them the Old Gods or some such nonsense." She shrugged. "Well, it looks like we are on the right path, let's keep going."

"Hawke, did you notice this?" Anders paused, kneeling on the floor. There, amidst the flagstones, deep channels were carved, laboriously chipped away from the stone, deliberately laid among the flagstones, in a pattern that was inconspicuous, unless one looked out of the corner of one's eye. Anders ran his hand over it, feeling it, and when he pulled his fingers away, little discharges of static electricity followed his fingers. "Magic," he breathed. "Andraste's knickers, Hawke. These are blood grooves!" He stood up suddenly, desperate to get away from the tiny channels, awkwardly scrabbling back to the cavern walls.

"I think this was some sort of ...sacrificial temple," Hawke said slowly, inspecting the grooves, following the paths, seeing how they merge, like tributaries, joining a river, becoming wider. all leading to a central point. The center of the chamber is where they all merged, and there was a large metal grate fitted into the stone. Hawke leaned over, urging her little fire light to float down in between the spiked and blood crusted bars. She couldn't see, so she laid flat on her belly and peered down. She was careful to keep her fingers and face away, but wanted to see what was down the long well. It seemed to go down for ages, and she couldn't see what was at the bottom. Something that looked like.. a shrine? A statue or an altar?

"Anders, I see something down there," she said, her cheek smashed against the cold hard stone, peering over the edge.

Anders stayed firmly pressed against the wall. "Hawke I really don't think you need to be pressing your face against a bloody spiked grate, we really need to get out of here."

Hawke waved him over. "Seriously, this pit goes so far down! What do you think it is that is down there? The artifact? Or is this part of the ritual?" She pushed herself up off the floor and tentatively looked around, running her hands all over the walls, looking for some sort of secret passage.

"There must be something here," she said, feeling around. "There has to be a way down there. Ah!" Her hand ran over another one of the draconian runes, only this one was a relief, instead of a carving. Its sharp mouth, complete with teeth, bared and angry. She ran her finger tip over them and cried out in pain as a tooth snagged her flesh, drawing forth a few drops of blood. She brought her finger to her mouth, sucking on it, tongue running over the ragged little wound.

The dragon shuddered, and its eyes lit up with a crimson glow, the color of spilled blood, slick and glistening in candlelight, and seemed to grow and grow. Hawke scrambled back, trying to stay clear of the unknown magic at work. It arched out of the rune and spilled onto the floor, like molten metal pouring from a smelter, yet there was no splashing, no hissing of metal contacting stone. Silent, glowing, pulsing, it grew until it formed a large sigil on the floor of the chamber. The eyes went dark, and the dragon receded into the stone. "What in the Maker's name was that?" Anders breathed, rushing over to Hawke's side. He pulled her finger from her mouth, inspecting the wound. "It seems like it needed blood to activate the magical guard." He clasped his hand around hers, rather intimately Hawke thought, flinching only slightly at his rough touch, the healing magic warming his hand and her fingers. Soon, the skin knit together and all that was left was the faintest of scars, indistinguishable from her numerous other callouses and scars on her fingers.

Anders let go of her hand, a bit sheepishly, a blush rising in his cheeks. He couldn't believe he had grabbed her hand like that, and she had flinched, Maker, but she flinched. He was mentally berating himself for the stupid move, and Hawke busied herself inspecting the new rune, still glowing red and pulsing. It took her a few moments to realize that it was pulsing in time with her own pulse, matching heartbeat to heartbeat, thrumming in time as her own life's blood pumped through her veins.

"Well, that isn't creepy," she murmured, squinting at it. She got down on her knees, and swept her hand over the markings, eyebrows pulled together and mouth a frown. It was a rune, of binding? Perhaps. The markings were all Tevinter, and not the common arcane symbols. Some of them looked a little familiar, there was that dragon one again, for instance, but most were too difficult to decipher without any sort of reference. She wanted to poke it, but usually that ended up being a bad thing, so she walked away from it scratching her head.

"Let's go, I think we found what we were looking for, we just need to figure out what it is." Hawke shrugged and gave her sarcastic half smile. "Shall we pop up into the Gallows? Give the Knight-Commander a good scare?"

Anders glared at Hawke disapprovingly. "I don't think tempting the Knight-Commander would be the wisest course of action, Hawke." She was liable to cleave their heads from their shoulders before Hawke could even get out so much as a hello, he thought grimly. Maker, how Hawke manage to avoid the Gallows was anyone's guess. He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his head and sighing. "Let's just go, as you said. Lead the way."

Later, at the Hawke estate, Marian was sitting at the dining room table, feet propped up and twiddling her thumbs. Around her sat Varric, Anders, and Fenris as well as their collection of intelligence and several books on Tevinter runes, customs, and rituals- what little there was that had made the way into southern Thedas, a rather sad and paltry collection. Anders sat with his shoulders hunched forward, pouring over the dusty tomes, Varric insisting that Hawke recount again how she had touched an unknown magical object, given it her blood, and finding some sort of Tevinter altar, and then just left it all behind.

"Even I can't make this shit up, Hawke," the dwarf pinched the bridge of his broken nose. "This is some tale. No one is going to believe it."

Fenris sat idly scratching Dog just behind the ears, brooding as was his standard. Hawke cocked an eyebrow and looked at him, noting just how grim his mouth looked, how angry his hooded eyes were, the silvery white hair doing nothing to obscure his hardened features. "As if this could get any worse," Hawke huffed. "The Vints, blood magic, blood sacrifices, a stupid stone altar and some equally stupid rune, and all of it just sitting right under the Knight-Commander's nose in the Gallows."

She rubbed her eyes. She had been up for hours, her eyes were heavy, demanding sleep, and her limbs ached. She just wanted to collapse in her bed, pressing her face into her soft pillow, letting her body fall into the mattress, it forming around her curves… but sleep would have to wait.

Anders was mumbling to himself, running through the various runes and illustrations, occasionally scratching out a translation on a spare piece of parchment, then going back to sucking the end of the quill between his teeth, chewing on the end. He worked in silence for a while, Varric pulling out a deck of cards and shuffling them, Hawke twiddling her thumbs trying not to fall asleep, and Fenris constantly obeying the commands of Dog, who would not let him stop petting him.

The hours drug on, and Hawke was bored out of her mind. She knew that she had to let the healer work though, she had no patience to sift through all that nonsense on her own. "Anders, any update?" She said, through a half-stifled yawn. Bodahn had thoughtfully provided them with some food, and she was picking her way through some cheese and a sweet roll.

"Not much," the blonde healer said, stretching and rolling his shoulders back. "I know it has something to do with the Old Gods, it looks like it was a sacrificial pit to Dumat, as to what the artifact could be… that I have no clue." He pushed the books away from him and cracked his knuckles, shaking out his hands after.

Sandal, Bodahn's boy, and a master enchanter if a little simple, had wandered into the dining room. Hawke liked the boy, he was sweet and kept to himself mostly (when he wasn't swinging off the chandelier) and she offered him some food. Sandal didn't answer, but that wasn't unusual, and he came to stand behind Anders. He pointed with one short, stubby finger at a rune that the mage had traced on the parchment. "Not enchantment!" he said, enthusiastically.

"Er, yes well that is true," Anders said, biting his lip, uncomfortable with how close the boy was to him, shifting in his seat, looking pleadingly at Hawke.

"Magic door!" the dwarf boy cried, clapping his hands together, Hawke looked at the drawing again, cocking her head to the side. "Andraste's flaming ass, he's right!" She lunged across the table and grabbed the parchment, turning it so that the others could see. "Sandal! you're brilliant! I could kiss you!"

"Please don't!" all three of her companions chimed in simultaneously, although for different reasons.

Hawke rolled her eyes, and pointed at the paper. "See there? Look, this looks just like a summoning sigil, and this is the part with the dragon rune. It's not an imprisonment ward… it's a doorway!"

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "that means, wherever this portal links to, is where the artifact is!"

Varric was skeptical. "Are you sure it's not just some portal to let that Dumat fellow in? I mean a door is a pretty self explanatory thing. You either come in or you go out."

Anders chewed on his thumbnail. "It makes sense, to a point. I mean, who's to say what the portal leads to?"

Fenris growled, "Something terrible no doubt, and we will be right in the thick of it, as per usual." Dog whined, resting his giant head on the elf's leg. "You would come with us and get yourself hurt," Fenris said in tone that had a finality to it. Dog barked in argument but Fenris shook his head. "No, you must stay here."

Varric looked at Hawke and jerked his head toward the broody elf. "Is he talking to your hound, and the dog is answering him?" Hawke shrugged. "They are friends. Spirit animals or something."

"Right," said the dwarf, raising an eyebrow and shrugging. "Who would have thought the elf could even make friends?"

"I can hear you," Fenris said flatly.

"Good, your pointy ears are at least functional," the dwarf quipped back.

"This isn't helping us," Anders interjected, before things turned ugly. They were all very tired and annoyed with the lack of progress. "We still don't know what it goes to or what the artifact is, and frankly I so tired, I can't even see straight any more."

Hawke got up and stretched. "Right. you lot, bed time. I have plenty of room for you to stay over, if you like."

Varric shrugged his leather duster up on his shoulders and waved away Hawke's offer. "No way, Hawke, can't stand this plush shit, I am going back to the Hanged Man, where it's comfortable." The dwarf waved goodnight to everyone and sauntered out of Hawke's house.

"Anders," Hawke said crossing her arms. "you will stay here tonight, in the guest room. And that is not an option."

Both Fenris and Anders opened their mouths to protest, but Hawke silenced them with a quelling look. "It's too dangerous with all the templars running around lately, and I have the space. It's not like they will come busting down my door."

Fenris crossed his arms. "They could," he said simply.

Anders shook his hands, obviously uncomfortable. "I don't want to be any bother, I can just go, it's not a prob-"

"Anders. Room. Now." Hawke said, leaving no room for argument. "Fenris, you too." She grabbed both of them by the arm and led them out of the dining room, depositing Anders off in the guest room.

She turned to Dog. "Make sure he stays the night, and go cuddle with him or something. Maker knows that man needs something furry to sleep next to, aside from the rats in the clinic." Dog woofed and trotted into the bedroom after the healer, and kicked the door closed with his hind leg.

The dark haired mage didn't let go of Fenris at this point, aware that the elf would stalk out of her home on sheer principle of sharing a sleeping space with the healer. "Hawke, I can manage to walk myself to the door," he protested, but it fell on deaf ears.

Once they were alone in her room, she quickly undressed, pulling her tunic off and shimming out of her breeches in what could only be described as lightning speed. She turned toward Fenris, crossing her arms across her magnificent breasts, tapping her foot in mock impatience. "Well?" she said, pursing her lips.

Fenris sighed, and hung his head. He couldn't argue with her, not when she was naked and tapping her foot in such a manner, mocking him. He stripped down, slowly, and soon, he too was naked. Hawke pointed to her bed, a silent order for him to slip in under the covers. The elf obeyed, simply because the bed looked so inviting and relaxing, and he was too tired to protest.

He pulled down the sheets and slipped in, dragging them up to his chest. Hawke sidled in next to him, wrapping her arms round his waist and pulling him close. She nuzzled the nape of his neck, her hot breath causing his skin to pucker in goosebumps. It felt so nice, having her next to him. He wondered if she always had to be the protective one though, spooning him. He thought it was wretchedly unfair, that he didn't get to feel her lush arse against his groin, and she got to feel his. He twisted in the sheets, untangling himself from her and turned over, pulling her into him instead. She smiled sleepily and allowed him to wrap his arms round her, her bum in his groin. She could feel his manhood twitch in response, but she was too tired to do anything about it.

Apparently, so was the elf, because he was asleep in moments, snoring lightly into her shoulder.

Hawke woke to Dog barking at her door, scratching and whining. "Whossit, boy?" she said, thickly, not even certain of what she was saying. She untangled herself from Fenris, who remarkably had taken up most of the giant bed in the middle of the night, and slipped on a light dressing gown. She opened the door and the mabari rushed in, tugging at her hem.

"Okay, okay," she said, gesturing that she would follow him, and she shuffled out to the hallway down to the guest room where Anders had crashed last night. Dog pounced on the door, pushing it open, and Hawke entered. The room was empty, save for a note, which the hound had fetched and placed in her hand. It was slightly damp from his slobber, but still mostly legible.

Hawke,

Couldn't risk you harboring an apostate. Took your cellar back to my clinic. Found out some new information. Stop by when you have the chance, and bring Fenris.

Your dog needs a bath, and whatever you feed him gave him the farts and stunk up the whole room.

Anders

She raised an eyebrow and looked at the hound, who was sat at her feet, tail stump wagging enthusiastically. "He's right, you know. You do need a bath and your farts are absolutely atrocious."

Dog whined, in a mocking hurt tone, and Hawke laughed, patting the beast on the head.

"Anders couldn't live with the guilt of spending the night, eh?" She rubbed her eyes and made her way back to her room. She had been too tired to entertain Fenris's manhood twitching last night, but she figured they had a few hours yet before she had to be at the clinic. Plenty enough time to wake him up with a sight he wouldn't soon forget.

Several long, satisfying hours later, Hawke and Fenris made their way to the clinic. Fenris kept looking at the mage out of the corner of his eye. What a treat he had been woken with, he recalled her perfectly poised on him, her weight sending all sorts of glorious pressure on his hips, his manhood throbbing almost painfully with need before he had even fully awoken. Her devilish smile on her full, kissable lips, lock of dark hair swept across her eyes. A low moan escaped his throat as he recalled the gentle rocking of her hips, rolling forward and taking his length easily, her tight, wet heat swallowing him.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Maker if he didn't stop thinking about how she looked naked on top of him, they would never make it to the clinic. Fenris hadn't even been sure that there was a Maker or that He cared about His children, but looking at Hawke splayed naked on the silky sheets under him had convinced him that maybe the Maker did exist. Such perfection couldn't happen by accident, surely.

Hawke chuckled at the little groan he had given and gave him a wink and squeezed his hand. She had loved teasing him for ages, until he had fully woken up and his erection demanded his full attention, bursting with need. After the elf had figured out what was going on, he became aggressive, flipping her over onto her back, parting her legs, and plunging inside of her with a desperate need. She liked that side of him, the hungry side, the selfish side. He didn't indulge in his wants enough, she thought, and she was all too happy to help him loosen up a little.

There was a bit of bustle going on in the mage's clinic, and Anders was running around doing his best to help his patients. Hawke and Fenris waited outside, the blue eyed woman occasionally peeking inside to see if he was free, the green eyed elf drawing circles in the dirt floor with his toes.

Anders was looking more harried than ever, thought Hawke, seeing the mage smooth his bedraggled hair unsuccessfully. His robes looked dirty and worn, threadbare in places, and it looked like he hadn't slept in a proper bed since the dawn of time. She wondered why he hadn't stayed, sleeping in a comfortable bed, but she decided that Anders didn't know how to relax any more, and being comfortable was a luxury the mage thought he no longer could afford.

Hawke had been right in her assumption that Anders had not slept in a comfortable bed for many years. If he wasn't swamped at the clinic, and there was a free cot at the end of the night, he would collapse onto that, exhausted from the day's toils. If there was no cot available, he would sleep sitting on the floor, back propped against the grimy shack wall, head drooping on his shoulder. He hadn't bathed as often as he had liked either, instead just scrubbing his face in a basin of water, and Maker knows how long it had been since he had a fresh set of robes. He rarely ate more than a bite or two of his meager dinner, and it was becoming clear that Justice was sustaining Anders more than Anders was at this point. Anders had considered it part of his self sacrifice to help others as much as he could, with little thought or care for his own well being. He knew that he couldn't go on like this much longer, but soon it wouldn't matter. He had made up his mind, he just had to see this final thing through with Hawke, then he could commit fully to his plan.

He finally had a moment to breathe, all the refugees tended to, and the poor sent on their way with what little help he could provide for them. He collapsed in the lone chair in the makeshift clinic and closed his eyes. He hadn't heard Hawke and Fenris approach, and when he looked up, he was so startled he nearly fell out of his chair.

"Hawke!" the healer yelped. "Maker's breath, give a guy a warning next time!" His small smile crept to his lips after the initial shock wore off . "Glad that you could make it." He eyed the pair almost enviously, as they both looked well rested, which was a feeling he could no longer imagine, let alone remember.

"You said you had information," Fenris said curtly.

"Right, so after I left your place last night," Anders started, licking his lips excitedly. "I remembered I had heard the name Thalsian somewhere before, but I couldn't recall where. I was sitting here just about to drift off to sleep and it came to me! Thalsian was one of the first Archons of the Imperium!" He finished, expecting the others to get it just as he had, but their blank faces stared back at him.

"Thalsian cannot be one of the first Archons," Fenris said, "As the Imperium is over a thousand years old."

"I don't even know what an Archon is," Hawke shrugged.

"The ruler of the Magisterium," Fenris supplied, to which Hawke replied. "Ah."

"No, no you are missing the point entirely," Anders sighed, exasperated. "Thalsian was the first one to discover blood magic. He claimed he learned it from the Old God, Dumat!"

"Ah," said Hawke and Fenris together.

"You still don't understand, do you? Thalsian was a high priest to Dumat, one of the original false gods that turned the Maker's scorn on mankind. He learned blood magic. The false gods aren't gods at all, they are demons." He waved his hand excitedly, continuing on. "You see, the Blight is started by the darkspawn searching out one of these Old Gods who were turned into Dragons, and banished into the mortal realm. They were originally the Maker's first children, but grew envious of the living! They whispered in the minds of dreamers and-"

"That's how the darkspawn came to be." Hawke interrupted. "I get it now, so why is this guy so important, just because he was named after some decrepit old Archon from ages past?"

"No, you don't understand, he isn't named after him, Hawke… he is him! The same guy!" Anders said seriously. "I am almost certain of it. He learned blood magic from a demon, that became a dragon. This dragon, Dumat, was the first Arch-Demon of the First Blight. Thalsian was a high priest of Dumat… it all fits!"

"So what, the ritual is this old geezer trying to resurrect the first Arch-Demon?" Hawke asked quizzically. "Okay, but that doesn't tell us about the artifact still."

Anders sighed, grabbing Hawke by the shoulders. "The artifact is a vessel. A mortal one. One who donates blood willingly to the shrine of Dumat. Hawke… you are the artifact." His amber eyes were sad, gazing into his friend's blue ones. "You touched the dragon relief, got cut, gave your blood willingly as far as the ritual was concerned. The sigil on the ground, it was a portal, like Sandal said. A portal to the Fade, where the demon Dumat resides. Hawke, you're going to become Dumat's reincarnation, if we don't put a stop to this. And you're going to become the next Arch-Demon, and the start of the Sixth Blight."

Hawke swallowed, searching for the right words to say. "At least the Arch-Demon is a dragon. I have always wanted to be a dragon."

A/N Nine chapters in and finally the plot gets around to showing up *cough* Lord help me I did so much research for this. also I noticed I spelled Thalsian's name wrong for like two entire chapters, so I had to go back and change it all. Maker have mercy on me.