Hawke

"So we leave in the morning then," Varric said with certainty.

Anders raised his eyebrows at the dwarf. "Do you really think that's wise?" He shook his head. "Nevermind, I'm asking this of a dwarf who saves his bedroom talk for his crossbow," he added under his breath.

Hawke, Anders, Varric, and Isabela sat around a table near the back of the Hanged Man. Hawke had detailed the events of the day to her companions and Varric had agreed to help. Isabela had offered up The Siren's Call to get them all where they needed to go. Now, they just needed some semblance of direction.

"You may be surprised by this, but I think our lovable possessed mage over there has a point," Isabela said, waving her finger as if to punctuate her statement. "I'd love to be the captain who leads her companions to a valiant rescue, but even pirates need plans."

"Preferably one that doesn't involve sleeping with a deranged magister or two," Varric chuckled, taking another swig of ale.

The two of them had been sharing drinks before she and Anders had found them at the tavern. Hawke was in no mood for joking after the day she'd had, but she needed their help, drunk or not. She wished for Aveline's decisive voice, but she'd been too bogged down at the Keep to get away. Even Merril would have at least taken the discussion seriously, but she seemed to be caught up in something lately. Hawke didn't have the patience to track down the flighty mage tonight.

"Come on you two. Who do you know that could help?"

Anders didn't give either a chance to reply. "I really think we should make a sweep of the Docks again and just wait a few days for some news to arise."

"These things don't just arise without a little stroking first." Isabela turned to Varric, giving him her best devious smirk. "The poor frustrated apostate, you'd think he'd know a thing or two about needing a stroking!"

The mouthful of ale that Varric had just taken exploded into a spray as he laughed. Isabela's jokes always became less witty the more ale that she had downed. That never mattered to a drunk Varric, though, so long as they were crude. On any other night, she would have laughed right along with them. Instead, Hawke gave both of them a stare that would have taken the fire out of a high dragon. Varric put his head down, pretending to think while Isabela found something interesting to look at in her mug.

Isabela broke the silence first by clearing her throat and assuming her best business voice. "Seems as good a plan as any. Then if we don't hear anything for a day or two we'll just sail for Minrathous."

"I still like the idea of Captain Isabela swinging in and sweeping Broody off his feet. Ooooh! And the ship will be on fire and Fenris will play the helpless victim for good measure and more fanciful storytelling," Varric supplied, his momentary seriousness already dissolved by the ale.

Anders took one look at Hawke, who had her face twisted into a scowl, and stood up, "Well it's decided then. Let's meet here tomorrow morning and see what we can dig up."

Hawke didn't like it, but she had thought about the situation all night, and couldn't think of a more desirable approach. She appreciated that Anders made the decision for her before she had the chance to strangle her other, more intoxicated, friends. They finished discussing the details of their meeting tomorrow morning and left the tavern. Anders walked with her, making the turn to Darktown.

Hawke stopped. "Anders, would you mind walking me home? I'm still a little... jittery."

"You're not going home tonight," Anders said flatly, motioning for her to follow.

"Please, I'm in no mood to argue with you. I need sleep, clothes, and a bath desperately."

"My clinic can offer you all of those things. Besides, Danarius may have sent assassins to finish you off once he was safely out of the city. Come on, after everything you've been through today, you need some company anyway." He gave her a pleading look, altering his tone playfully, adding, "Please? Justice will be up all night worried if you're at home all by yourself."

She fought back a smirk. "I wouldn't be alone." She started to think of reasons why she'd be perfectly safe in her own bed, but this argument was not worth the effort right now. "At this point I don't care where I sleep. I honestly just want this day to be over." She dropped her shoulders and followed her friend.

They walked for a minute or two in the direction of the clinic before Anders spoke again. "There's something I needed to talk to you about." He waited a moment before continuing. "That spell that Danarius cast. Were you awake when he did it?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Now he had her curious. He'd been preoccupied immediately after he'd cleansed her of the silencing spell earlier today. "I didn't see him cast it, no."

"It reminded me of a class of magic I had a brief education about a few years back. It is very," he paused choosing the next word carefully, "specialized. There are several directions the spell can take to manipulate the mind," Anders looked off again, his brows lightly furrowed. "The power of the spell was almost too much for me to remove by myself."

"Blood magic, huh?"

"Yes." He stretched the word and let it hang thickly around them.

"They could fill another Circle Tower with the blood mages we've dealt with lately," Hawke responded, unaffected by Anders's grave discourse.

"You aren't getting it Hawke," Anders reproached, stopping to step in front of her. "These spells Danarius is delving into are incredibly unique. Cleansing their effects is like trying to open a lock with a key that doesn't fit. One would need blood magic to remove something any stronger."

Hawke thought about the touch of the silencing spell, how it had felt so stifling and the way it had settled into her over time. She had grown almost accustomed to it by the time Anders removed it. Maybe it was just that she had been hit over the head too many times.

"Those Tevinter magisters..." Anders started walking again. "Did you ever wonder why Fenris had no memory of his life before his markings?"

"He said it happened during the lyrium infusion ritual. I figured it had something to do with the pain," she sharpened her tone with the last sentence, displaying her irritation with the subject. "It's not something we enjoy discussing together."

"Well picture this; Danarius could easily take this spell a step further. Imagine someone being permanently silenced and I don't mean just kept from casting spells. Imagine a man not being able to speak. Imagine a mage with the power to make a person forget anything they chose."

Hawke picked at the sleeve of her robe as they rounded the last corner. "Where did you hear about this?"

"When I was with the Grey Wardens I met an apostate who had fled the Circle to the Imperium. He'd studied under a magister there who had done these things to slaves. I wasn't sure I believed it, the stories seemed so embellished at the time, but that silence had a strange feel to it." As they entered the clinic, Anders began gathering blankets from a makeshift shelf in corner. "I've cleansed my fair share of spells, but that one had such a strong hold, I was immediately reminded of that conversation with him." He shook the dust off a few blankets as he continued, "I've learned more since then about the magic of the Tevinter Magisters, things no Circle mage would dare to try."

Anders spread the blankets onto a bed he'd used for patients in the corner. He patted it playfully, trying to lighten the mood. Hawke mustered up a weak smile and plopped down. "I'm no Bodahn, but it's better than nothing," he teased. His eyes had that sad sparkle again.

"Thanks for everything today, Anders," she said gently, trying to avoid his gaze. She unlaced her boots, giving a groan when she was finally free of them.

"You're welcome to anything I have here. There may even be some clean women's bedclothes back here," he offered, already rifling through another pile of goods. "Very stylish as well!" he joked, holding up an outrageous excuse for a night robe. It looked more like a tablecloth, complete with unsightly stains.

The sound of her own laugh startled her. "What choices I have! My own blood-stained robes or someone else's? Good thing I'm not out to impress anyone, hmm?" She scolded herself for the wrong choice of words. It was true, but Anders didn't deserve to have it rubbed in his face.

Anders turned away before she could read his reaction. He brought her a basin and a cloth so she could rinse away the layer of grime that was caked onto her skin. Then he excused himself so she could tend to her needs privately.

As she bathed herself, her mind went over the events of the day again and again, trying to find something she'd missed. Maybe there would be someone at the Docks tomorrow that would know something. It was possible that a few of the dock workers could have gone home for the day by the time she arrived to question them. She should ask Aveline to at least keep an eye out for a hint about Danarius's ship. She also needed to stop by her estate to grab a fresh change of robes in the morning.

Hawke pulled the oversized nightshirt over her head and looked down at herself. It was positively ridiculous. Fenris would have gotten a good chuckle out of this. A pang of longing struck her; she missed him already. She had gone much longer without seeing him and not felt like this, but the number of miles between them somehow amplified the ache.

Luckily, Anders re-entered the room before she had too much time to fall into grief again. "Are you decent?" he called from the doorway.

Hawke stood up, trying to mask her misery, and modeled her new look. "I've never felt more like a dining room table in all my life."

"Andraste herself would fall in awe at your feet, my lady," Anders said with a bow.

With this lighthearted gesture, Hawke realized she was glad she had stayed with Anders. She would certainly have punished herself all night with self-deprecating thoughts if left alone. She expected perfection from herself in all things, and today had been a miserable failure. She held onto guilt about only a handful of things, but this was the heaviest burden she had carried since Mother had died. She appreciated that Anders probably knew it, too, which was why he was trying so hard to distract her.

He maintained his posture of mock-reverence as he came to sit beside her on the bed. He turned to look at her, his eyes flitting around nervously as if trying to decide whether or not to say what was on his mind. "I'm really glad you're alright, Marian."

"Thanks, Anders. For that and for everything else today. Well, except this thing," she said pinching the front of the nightgown and pulling it away from her body to show off a particularly disturbing stain.

Anders's smile seemed forced this time as he got up and walked to the back of the clinic where he slept. He turned to glance at her again as he said goodnight and blew out the rest of the candles. With no candlelight, it became blacker than any night she could remember. It forced her to close her eyes. Her thoughts didn't even have time to wander before she drifted into the consuming darkness.

When she awoke, Anders was already up with his back to her, mixing some potions and placing them into a pouch at his hip. She readied herself for the day while he finished his preparations. The two of them didn't say much until they were on their way to her estate. She remembered that they were both not their best this early in the morning. Fenris, on the other hand, had always seemed alert. She had never seen him wake from a night's sleep, though. He was always the first one up when they'd had to sleep on the road during some of their travels. She knew more about Anders's morning habits than his. She pictured Fenris warm in a soft bed somewhere, even though she knew the truth was much harsher. Would he drink a cup of tea? Did he lie in bed a few minutes before getting up? Darker thoughts pulled at her; she may never know any of these frivolous things about him.

"Snap out of it," Anders said, elbowing her lightly. "Get what you need and let's find us an elf today."

Hawke had been so deep in thought, she hadn't noticed they were already at her front stoop. She opened the door and Orana was right behind it, as though she had been waiting for hours.

"Orana, what's wrong?" Hawke asked. The elf she had hired was always a bit jumpy, but this was excessive, even for her.

She gave a nervous look behind her. "You have a visitor, Messere."

Hawke turned to follow Orana's gaze and she saw her. Varania. The miserable traitor was in her house, coming back for her again, no doubt.

Reflexively, Hawke cast a stunning spell, pushing Varania back with a brutal gust of elemental force. She grabbed a dagger she kept in her robes and closed the distance between them rapidly. Hawke pinned one of Varania's arms behind her and placed the blade against the elf's throat.