Authors Note: My sincerest apologies for the wait. I have been focusing on my novel over the past few months and haven't had a chance to get back to my fanfic till now. Hope you enjoy. And as always, reviews welcome :)

Welcome to Kirkwall

Chapter 10: The Spirits Within and the Demons Without

Lyra was surprised that she had not been accosted as soon as she entered the courtyard. Then she saw Cullen standing at the Guardpost and realized he had probably arranged this. He ushered her through the small chamber and out onto the high steps looking over the Gallows. He hadn't spoken another word to her. In fact, he had barely looked at her, and despite the many questions she had for him, she remained equally silent. If he really was trying to help the mages, perhaps even to undermine Meredith's authority, she wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize his position.

It was approaching mid-day and as she ambled down the stone steps, Trouble close at her heels, her stomach was reminding her that she had missed breakfast. She ignored the rumbling, thinking instead about the shard, resting safely in the leather pouch around her neck. She thought she could feel the warmth of it even now, but she was probably imagining it. Just as she was about to exit the Gallows, and head back to Lowtown, she remembered that she was still in need of armour. She mentally kicked herself for not simply nicking something from the underground workshop, but then she supposed someone might miss whatever she took, and Templars tended to be very tenacious in their investigations.

She paused at the armour stand just beside the main gates, and was looking over a piece of female armour that must have been a breastplate, emphasis on breast, for that's all this thing would cover. Even the Dalish wore more than this, and they were known for wearing as light of armour as possible, better for staying silent and unseen. They wore heavier armour when going into battle, but for a hunter, when the most dangerous thing they would likely encounter would be a bear or wolf, predators who could be easily avoided by any Dalish worthy of the name, there was no need for metal armour that could clink or scrape at inopportune moments. A familiar voice was calling her name, but she was so lost in thought that she hardly noticed.

"Lyra?" She turned around to see Hawke walking up to her followed closely by Fenris, the scowl seemingly permanently etched on his angular face. He was wearing his usual spiked armour and black leggings, the massive sword strapped to his back. Hawke was in his splint-mail again and, though not as regal as the black plate, he was still quite striking. Perhaps it was just him. "What are you doing here?" he said, grinning, obviously pleased to see her. Fenris, on the other hand, was glaring at the back of Hawke's head, studiously refusing to look at Lyra. Trouble made a low growl at his approach and for a split second she thought she heard Fenris growl back. Making friends? Or establishing dominance...

"Shopping," she said simply, turning back towards the shop and letting Fenris and Trouble sort themselves out. "I need new armour. That ogre really did a number on my old set."

"I think the mercenaries probably had a lot to do with it," Fenris snarled, acknowledging her presence but little else.

She cast an icy glance in his direction, which he could certainly feel, even if he didn't see it. "Indeed," she said coldly. "But, as I was hunting the ogre and those idiots just happened to get in the way, I blame the ogre." She was examining other pieces and held up another equally skimpy outfit. It seemed that armour in Kirkwall was more for show than actual practicality, and it certainly did show a lot. "Would you look at this? How could anyone reasonably describe this as armour? Looks more like glorified underclothes."

Hawke eyed what appeared to be a metal brazier, then gave Lyra a quick look. "I don't know," he said thoughtfully, taking it from her and holding it up to her chest. "I think you'd look good in it."

Lyra gave and exasperated sigh and snatched it back from him. "Why am I not surprised? You probably think I'd look good in anything."

Hawke shrugged and leaned against a nearby pillar. Probably his attempt at looking dashing. She had to admit, he was pretty good at it. "Actually, I think you'd probably look good in nothing," he said casually, and Fenris shot him a glance that could have killed lesser men.

Lyra smirked, shaking her head at him. "You really do have no shame, do you?"

Hawke shrugged and smiled again. "I try not to. I find it interferes with my carefree nature."

"It probably would at that," she said chuckling to herself. Then she dropped the piece she was looking at and turned to him, as if suddenly noticing something. "Hawke?" she said curiously. "Why do you have a Qunari blade on your back?"

"What, this?" he said, pulling the sword out and looking at it. "How did you know it was qunari?"

"I travelled with a qunari," she said dismissively. "But why do you have one? Oh gods, did Sten loose his sword AGAIN?"

"What are you talking about?" Hawke said. "There's a qunari in Hightown square looking for swords of their fallen from when they tried to take the city. But it's not a sten."

"No," she shrugged. "I wouldn't guess so. But I suppose their souls should return to Par Vollen."

"How do you know about that?" Fenris demanded, looking directly at her for the first time.

"I told you. I travelled with a Sten. He couldn't go home till he found his sword. He called it Asala, his soul. He called me kadan. It means friend, doesn't it?"

"Kadan?" he said incredulously. "He said that?"

"Oh for gods sake. Yes!" she threw up her hands in exasperation. "I think he once compared me to a Qunoran Vehl, too. It means hero or something similar. Why?"

Fenris seemed stunned into silence. When he finally found his voice, it was shaky and uncertain. "The sten who travelled with you... The one who helped you stop the Blight... After the qunari attack, after Hawke killed the Arishok..."

"Spit it out, man." Lyra was tempted to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, but given his spiked shoulder guards it probably wasn't a good idea.

"He..." Fenris tried again. "He became the new Arishok. The leader of all qunari know you as 'friend'. Kadan, Qunoran Vehl... The qunari do not use these words lightly."

"Huh," Hawke grunted. He had been silent until now, listening to the conversation with bemused interest. "Even the qunari think you're a hero."

"Oh, come off it," she shook her head. "Look, I told you both. I'm no hero. No matter what anyone thinks."

"Oh, sure. You just gained the respect of everyone IN THE WORLD."

"Shut up, Hawke." Lyra stormed off, heading towards Hightown in the hopes of finding a shop that sold armour that might actually protect the wearer.

"Lyra, wait," Hawke called out, jogging to catch up with her. Fenris held back, however. Studying the small elf girl with renewed interest. Living in the Tevinter Imperium, he had encountered qunari before and had learned much of their culture and the qunlat, the qunari language. But he had never before heard of a qunari calling an outsider kadan. Hawke had been referred to as basalit-an, an outsider worthy of respect, but nothing more personal than that. Friend was a loose translation of kadan, he knew. It's literal translation was 'where the heart lies'. Had this sten actually cared about Lyra? It was difficult to fathom. The stoic giants that populated Seheron were not know for their compassionate natures. But he had to admit, there was something about the elf that made it hard to turn away from her.

Fenris found himself admiring her more and more. It bothered him. Even what she was wearing. The light leather trousers, billowing white tunic. It made her look like a pirate, reminding him of Isabella. Although, where Isabella's sexuality was all out in the open, Lyra's beauty was more subtle. It was in the way she tossed her hair over her shoulders, the way she moved, like water, the valaslin sliding over her soft skin... No, wait, stop right there. He was NOT attracted to her. She was stubborn, arrogant and a general pain in the ass. There was no way he could ever be interested in her as anything more than an annoyance. Then why was he still staring at her?

He walked over to where Hawke and Lyra were, mentally kicking himself all the way, telling himself he didn't care one whit for the girl, and wondering at the same time how big of a lie it really was. Lyra seemed to have forgiven Hawke for whatever she was angry about but Hawke's expression hat turned troubled, and slightly nervous.

"I'm, uh, glad I got a chance to talk to you, actually," Hawke was saying as they started off again through the Hightown markets.

"Really?" she said with raised eyebrows. "You don't seem very happy about it."

"It's about Merrill."

Lyra frowned. "Oh look. Now I'm not happy about it either."

"I don't know what happened between you," Hawke said, "but she's locked herself up in her house with that mirror. Hasn't come out since you spoke and won't talk to anyone."

Having heard the conversation Lyra had had with the Keeper the previous day, Fenris could guess why the two were no longer on friendly terms, but stayed silent. It wasn't his place to say anything.

Lyra sighed heavily. "She's you're girlfriend. You sort her out." Fenris smirked, involuntarily, but when Lyra glanced at him he pretended to be very interested in a broadsword on one of the tables at a weapons shop.

"She's not my—," Hawke started but gave up when he saw the amused expression on her face. "Look she won't even talk to me. I need you to go talk to her."

"And why in Thedas would I want to do that?"

"You're the closest thing she has to family. Surely you can talk some sense into her. Please, Lyra. We're going up to Sundermount tomorrow. She needed to see the Keeper about something. Maybe you could come with us."

Lyra held up her hands. "Nope. No way. Deal's off. I've said my piece to all of them and I'll have no more of it."

"Why? What exactly happened?" Hawke asked, clearly confused at her reaction. "This about the mirror isn't it?"

She instantly turned away from him. "Not looking to talk on that topic."

"Fine. But you should know, she said she needed to see the Keeper about getting a tool to complete the mirror."

Lyra stopped, and cursed under her breath. "The arulin'holm," Lyra muttered. Then she sighed. "All right, fine," she said finally. I'll go with you. Someone has to put an end to this madness."

Hawke breathed a sigh bordering on relief. "Thanks," he said smiling again, then faltered. "Ah, and if you could perhaps not mention to her that this was my idea? I think it would be best for everyone..."

"If you suffered a horrific death at the hands of an enraged elf?" she smiled sweetly at him. "Yes, I DO think that would be best for everyone."

Hawke grinned again. "Pushing my luck, am I?"

"Just a bit." Lyra shook her head at him and headed towards the armourers

"Hey, Hawke," Fenris said when she was out of earshot. "Don't you still have some of that good light armour we picked up?" Hawke nodded, looking at Fenris with an odd expression. "Why don't you just give it do her?" Fenris said, ignoring the bemused grin. "Its not like you're going to need it, and hers was ripped to shreds."

"Why Fenris, I had no idea you cared," Hawke said, smiling knowingly at the elf.

"It's not like that. I just don't think good armour should go to waste.," Fenris growled angrily, refusing to look the larger man in the eye.

"Uh-huh. And I suppose the a beautiful young lass who would look absolutely stunning in that River Dane armour, has nothing to do with it?"

"She's not that beautiful," Fenris muttered. Hawke was still grinning that annoyingly smug grin of his. "Just forget I said anything."

Hawke laughed and shook his head, putting an arm around the smaller mans shoulders which was quickly shrugged off. "The reason I don't just give her armour is because firstly, she would never accept it and secondly... well, that's it really. She would never accept it."

"You're probably right," Fenris muttered.

"Come on, lets go find this qunari."

After looking through a few of the shops, Lyra had decided it was pointless to try and find any decent armour in this city. She supposed the few nobles in Kirkwall who could afford good armour simply had no need of it for anything more than decoration. They had the City Guards to protect them from any serious trouble. Cities make you soft, she decided. She would probably have more luck in the poorer districts. Not the same quality of material, perhaps, but infinitely better in terms of protection. She might even be better off simply getting her old leathers repaired. Hawke and Fenris had wandered off and so she headed back to Lowtown and the Hanged Man alone, her thoughts drifting once again to the shard she had found.

By the time she got back to the inn, her shoulder was throbbing again and she drained the last of the healing potion from the small bottle Anders had given her. Then she stared at the clear glass phial thoughtfully. She rinsed out the bottle and removed the leather pouch from around her neck. The only thing it contained, other than the shard was a tiny wooden carving of a running deer. She placed it carefully on the nightstand, beside the flute Fenarel had given her the day before. Then she removed the shard and dropped it into the bottle. It made a tinkling sound that seemed to go on for longer than it should have, unnaturally loud. She stared at it a minute, then put the stopper back on the bottle and tucked it into her pack. Then she went downstairs for something to eat.

She was sitting at a table staring at the shard over a half eaten sandwich Corff had given her. She was so lost in thought, she didn't notice when Anders burst in, looking wildly around the room until he spotted her.

"Lyra!" he said, rushing over to her and sliding into a chair opposite her. "Are you all right?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, fine... fine..." She glanced up at him briefly then went back to the shard.

"Some friends said you got hauled off by Templars. I thought you'd been arrested." Lyra nodded vaguely. "Lyra look at me!" He stood up, leaning over the table and grabbing her shoulders.

"Ow," she said wincing, and he let go. She seemed to finally notice Anders for the first time. "Oh, hey, Anders. Yeah, Meredith wanted to talk to me, but its nothing. I'm fine. You're fine. Everything's fine."

Anders breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "You had me worried. Sorry about the shoulder."

She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand and he sat down again. "Listen, I think I know what I'm looking for here, Varric was telling me.."

He held up a hand, interrupting her. "Lyra wait. I wanted to apologize for last night."

"Stop right there," she said. "Let me say this first." She sighed as if what she was about to say was difficult for her. "You were always there for me, Anders. Even when you didn't want to be. You always had my back, maybe more than I deserved. But I wanted to thank you for that."

Anders sat back, clearly stunned. Then the lines of concern reappeared around his eyes. "Are you dying?"

"What? No! Of course not. Well, no more than usual, I suppose."

"Am I dying?" he continued.

"No that I know of..."

He slapped his hands down on the table and demanded, "Then who are you and what have you done with the real Lyra Mahariel?" A broad grin had spread across his handsome, if weathered features.

"Hey now," she admonished. "I'm allowed to be stupid and sentimental once in a while."

"Sure," he shrugged. "You're like a werewolf. Once a month you turn into a real girl. Or was that the other way around?"

She punched his arm playfully. "Oh shut up. Do you want to hear this or not?"

He sat back rubbing his arm. "All right, all right." He was smiling at her again. "Just like old times. Hatching plots and planning strategies, eh?"

She smiled back. "Just like old times." She held up the bottle containing the shard for him to look at, and he took it curiously. "What do you make of this?"

"I don't know," he said slowly, turning the glass over in his hand, listening to the oddly musical notes. "It feels strange."

Lyra nodded in agreement. "I was talking to Varric and he told me about how he and Hawke went down into the Deep Roads. They found that idol, remember?"

"I remember... I went with them when they found Bartrand. I've never seen anything like it. Stark raving mad, he was. I managed to give him a few moments of sanity before the end."

"Do you remember him saying anything about singing?"

Anders seemed to be thinking, then he said, "Yeah, he said the idol sang to him. He forced his men to drink a lyrium potion so they could hear it too. I doubt it worked though, they all went mad."

Lyra nodded again. "That's what Varric said. Then I remembered Justice saying the lyrium in this world sang to him, you remember? And that started me thinking about the Fade, and how the old gods wandered the Fade as they slept."

Anders stopped her. "Listen Lyra, there's something I have to tell you about Justice."

Lyra looked at him excitedly. "You know where he is? I'm sure he could help with this. Maybe give us a few more answers."

"The thing is..."

"Lyra Mahariel, in MY bar!" Lyra turned to see a very familiar dark skinned woman approaching the table, a serpents smile on her face.

"Isabella?" Lyra was hardly surprised to see her, seeing as how she had already seen her handiwork in the bar-top. But she had been sure the pirate queen would be on her ship sailing the high seas. "I didn't know the Hanged Man was yours." She looked well. She had her hair tied back with a bandana, the gold bangle earrings setting off her tanned skin and dark mysterious eyes. She wore a tunic that fit so tight it looked like the buttons were about to pop off and thigh high boots that Lyra had no doubt concealed no less than two daggers each.

Isabella laughed and gave her a knowing smile. "I've had many hanged men, my dear." She lowered herself onto a chair next to Lyra. "Now, you must tell me everything. I haven't seen you in AGES! Don't leave anything out. I want all the sordid details."

"Sordid details?" Lyra asked, thoroughly confused.

"You and Zevran, silly. You can't tell me the two of you didn't hook up. I know he fancied you." The pirate said winking seductively at her.

Lyra sighed. "That was a long time ago, Isabella. And Zevran fancied everyone."

"Don't tell me that little rat left you." Isabella looked shocked. Then said conspiratorially, "I always knew he was a bastard. Didn't I tell you?"

Lyra laughed. "I believe your exact words were 'He's a charmer'..."

"Same thing, in my books," she shrugged. "Ahh, well. I bet he brought out your wild side, though, am I right?"

"I don't have a wild side."

"Like hell you don't," Isabella threw back her head and laughed. "Try that one on someone who doesn't know the truth. Remember that one night below decks? You me Zevran and that cute little orlesian girl..."

"Isabella?!" Lyra could feel her cheeks getting hot and glanced nervously at Anders who was grinning, clearly enjoying the conversation.

"Oh, doesn't Anders know of your wild and reckless past? I bet he and Justice would LOVE to get to know THAT side of you. Wouldn't you boys?"

Lyra's face instantly grew serious as she stared across the table at the mage. "Anders and Justice?"

"Anders," Isabella chided. "Don't tell me you haven't introduced your little house guest..." Her gaze flitted back and forth between elf and mage, neither of whom were taking any notice of her. "Oh, have I said something I shouldn't have?"

"Lyra, I was going to tell you..." Anders said, his tone pleading for understanding.

Isabella got up. "I think that's my cue. Find me later, sweetie, we'll have a drink and catch up." She glanced at the two of them again, their eyes locked on one another. "Much later, perhaps."

Anders was the first to look away, and when Isabella was gone, he muttered, "I'm not possessed."

Lyra raised an eyebrow. "You kind of are, Anders."

"It's not like that, though," he was pleading again. "Nathaniel even said that if the spirit wasn't taking control of the host, then it wasn't an abomination. Look, I offered to let Justice in. It was the only way we could survive. Kirstoff's body was... well... and I certainly needed help."

"I'm not judging you, Anders," Lyra said quietly.

"You're not?" he said incredulously.

"No, I'm not," she said simply. "I knew Justice, remember? I also remember a time when you felt incapable of taking action against the Templars. Now you're an honest-to-god revolutionary."

Anders sighed. "He made me see that injustices could not be tolerated... But it didn't work," he said, his eyes expressing an infinite sadness. "He's not the same anymore. He's not Justice. Because of my hatred he has become a force of vengeance."

"Justice has never had much room for compassion, or mercy."

"You don't understand. Hawke and I... There was a young girl who escaped from the circle. We were trying to help her but this right bastard of a Templar got to her first. Ser Alrik." He spat the name as if it were a curse. "He had petitioned the chantry to have all mages made tranquil," he said with disgust.

Lyra remembered a conversation they had once had about being made tranquil. He said it was like being beheaded, having all your emotion stripped away. You were still alive, but you could never again feel alive. He said that it was the only thing he ever truly feared. "What happened?" she asked, equally disgusted that anyone would force that on anyone, let alone on all the mages in Thedas.

"I..."he hesitated. "Justice, I mean, killed him."

"Good then. Big bad Templar out of the way," she said, trying to lighten his desperate mood.

"But the girl," he moaned. "I almost killed her too."

"But you didn't."

"Only because Hawke was there to stop me. I can barely control it anymore."

"Well, thank the gods for Hawke, then."

"You don't understand," he wailed. "You called me a revolutionary, but how could I ever help anyone like this?"

"I don't understand," Lyra said slowly. She could feel her temper rising. "Don't understand what? To feel like the whole world bleeding and your running around with one lousy bandage wondering who to plaster it on?" Her tone was rising along with her temper and she was on the verge of shouting. "And gods help you if you ever stop to rest, because every time you close your eyes you see the faces of all the people you COULDN'T save, asking you why."

Anders was taken aback, and sat in silence for a minute as Corff came over and set a couple of drinks on the table in front of them, studiously trying to ignore the conversation that had now capture the interest of a few of the nearby patrons. She suddenly realized she was on her feet, and glanced around nervously only to see that Hawke and Fenris were at a table not far away. Fenris was watching her, his usual disapproving scowl replaced by a curious expression she could not read. She hadn't noticed them come in and wondered how much Fenris had heard of the conversation. At her glance, however, Fenris quickly averted his gaze and went back to ignoring her.

"Are you talking about me? Or you?" Anders said, grinning slightly as she sat back down.

She returned the grin ruefully. "I'm talking about impossible odds and hopeless causes. And how neither of us can turn our backs."

Anders reached for his mug and Lyra did the same. "I'll drink to that," he said, and they raised their glasses.