I do not own anything, Bioware's got that. (I can't wait to buy DA: I soon...shame its another year…) This chapter is kind of short, but if I down write it down I'll forget it.

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Orana felt uneasy. Perhaps it was being in such a run down inn, or perhaps it was being so close to Anders. She'd known about this place, but she'd never had had any reason to venture inside. Denarius would never stay at such a place. There'd never been any reason for him to anyway. Smiling a little to herself, she silently noted how she was able to reason. Normally she was to follow blindly and keep her mouth closed, unless she was asked to play the lute or make some sort of music. Stealing a quick glance around the inn, she noted how most of the noisy patrons had died down. It wasn't anything happening to make them lose their merriment, it was just late in the night and most were drunk off their stools.

Anders drummed his fingers on the table, making Orana return her attention to him. He was thinking of something very complicated, she could tell, but she didn't dare to try and question. Aveline herself looked worn, rubbing the bridge of her nose and sighing heavily. A few unintelligible mutters (That Orana could not make sense of) were the only commentary from the guards woman.

"Drink with me…Before...I leave~"

A hollowed voice seemed to echo through the inn. Orana and Aveline turned their heads to see the owner of such a forlorn voice but to no avail. None of the others in the building seemed to have heard it either.

"Drink to me…we had fun, didn't we?~"

Aveline mumbled into Orana's ear, "You hear that don't you?"

"Drink for me…~"

"It's a terribly written song, Serah Vallen."

A snort from Anders was the only further comment.

A dark shade appeared above their heads. Aveline was tempted to look up at what was casting a shadow over their table, but a hand on her arm warned her against it. Orana understood, it was a demon. Not uncommon to be seen here, especially such a lesser one. Why it had chosen their little table she was not sure of until it spoke directly to her.

"Think so, child? Have you any idea how many Magisters crave my voice? And you would insult me by listening with your filthy-"

Orana's hand began to tremble. She herself had never been addressed to before by a demon. Cold, long fingers seemed to wrap themselves around her shoulder, and the voice grew closer to her ear. The cowl did nothing to stop the chills from running down her neck. She held tightly onto Hawke's dagger. She had to answer honestly to a demon, she had no other choice.

"I would agree with my charge. It didn't do much to improve my drink."

The cold hand on her shoulder slowly unwound itself. Orana let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Anders had a corner of his mouth quirked up, daring the demon to try the same to him. He would not tremble at his touch nor look down at his lap. The demon seemed to know this and made no move to get closer. Instead, the shade nodded his head once before drifting to another area. Mages held the power in the city, and it was obvious to the shade Anders was not one who could be manipulated. Still, the scene seemed to unsettle both Orana and Aveline. Aveline, who would have handled the situation with blows, could not shake the sickening feeling of a demon near her. When she traveled with Hawke that had been different, she could handle herself and cut down those in her path. Everything seemed easier when she followed Hawke. From the moment she had met her fleeing the darkspawn she knew the woman was a true form of power. She brought with her change. She could shape the very world in her image if she pleased.

Aveline had sworn herself to Hawke the minute Hawke drove her dagger into Wesley's heart.

Choices like that were hard to make, especially on another's behalf. Of course she had blamed Hawke for a while, but she still held her complete trust. Hawke had never done anything without some sort of reason. Orana cleared her throat. Anders, who had been looking rather smug with himself, turned to look at her. Orana fidgeted with her fingers as she spoke, unsure of herself even then but determined to get her mind off of demons.

"So you…were very close to her?" Anders didn't need to ask who. His face seemed to darken and he stared at the timid elf.

"Yes. I was."

"How…how did you meet, if you don't mind me asking… I'm only curious."

"She came into my clinic in Darktown, in Kirkwall, busted through my doors like she owned the place and demanded I give her maps." Anders scoffed, as if even now the indignity of it all upset him. "We worked out an agreement, eventually. Something told me I could trust her, even if I didn't need to like her. But then, something told me she had beautiful eyes and could probably make a decent apple pie. Shame really."

"You sound hateful." Aveline looked at Anders pointedly. "It was she who raced around the city looking for your 'cure.' She turned any attention the templars gave you aside. She never meant you harm, you did that yourself."

"Yes yes, thank you for reminding me. The fact of the matter is this; she turned against me eventually. She fought me, damn near killed me. And even after all she's done to break my heart, all I can really comment on our battle is how elegantly she seemed to dance with those blades." Orana looked up in time to catch a wistful look on Anders' face. Lucky too, for it was gone in a few breaths. "I had tried so hard to convince her. I gave her every argument, quoted what must have been hundreds of scripture… How could she not see the agony? Her own father, her own sister shared this very burden and she would subject them back to the circle." Anders leaned in toward Aveline, as if he were telling some great secret. "How do you think the Templars knew where Bethany was?"

"If you can't prove it, shut your mouth."

Orana nodded her head, not really understanding but willing to let the subject drop. She had only wanted to learn more about her Mistress, but it was clear why that demon was hesitant toward Anders. Anders, it seemed, was used to being obeyed. Perhaps it was all the time he's spent helping people that gave him a healer's complex, where everything he said was law for the good of individuals. It wasn't a bad thing…but, Orana thought a bit nervously, it could be dangerous...

"For now, let's return to our post. We can group there and decide things later. Anders if you pull anything…"

"You'll kill me? A better woman than you has tried."

"If she had tried, you'd be dead."

If there was a score to be kept, Orana assumed Aveline would have gained another point over Anders. Maybe when they return, she could tell her Papa of their conversations and they could laugh about it together. Orana smiled, her lip beginning to crack at the new habit. She and Papa would be truly free soon.

The boy across the inn let his hair fall back over his face. He had done well, he thought. Not only had he told his master of Orana, but he had shown him the company she was keeping around her. His finger touched his left eyelid, were the ugly scar seemed to end abruptly. Yes, Denarius had told Marc he had done well, but the unspoken threat was still there. Orana was a start, but he was to find and report the Champion. Shivering, he recalled the fear that had shot through him when Hawke had stopped them in the tunnel. It was true she had reason to be suspicious. He should have made more of an effort to drag out his movements. He should have made himself seem unsure.

There was no mother. There was a ritual, like he had told Fenris about, but he didn't believe Deaneries had ever intended to use him as a sacrifice. Now he had to prove his worth, prove he wasn't a failure of an experiment. Tricking the Champion was just a way of pulling himself off the sacrificial list. Perhaps even putting Fenris is a less favorable standing, since he had taken off with her. Marc had never intended to hurt anyone in the beginning, but he truly wanted to go home. He'd sacrifice anyone he needed to to earn that right.

And Hawke had almost caught him in his lie.

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"I'm sorry."

"Explain."

"Really, you'd like me to?"

"Yes."

"Shh, not so loud, do you want them to realize we've snuck in?"

Fenris made some noise, signaling his annoyance. Honestly, the stumbling rouge had slipped in the back door of some hole in the wall place. Fenris knew it, though he had never actually been in it before. For now, they were hiding out in a storeroom. Hawke had made a little hide out of boxes and wine crates to block any contact with the rest of the building. No one would be searching back here unless they knew exactly where two fugitives were hiding. The dust and cobwebs didn't seem to bother Hawke, she looked used to these kinds of conditions. Who wouldn't, after living with Gamlen for a year or two… Fugitives, Hawke smiled lately at that thought. She'd lost count of the number of laws she'd broken since arriving here. Fenris looked less pleased. If she didn't speak soon she could tell he would get all lit up again. Lit up, she decided she liked that term.

"Lyrium,"Hawke whispered, closing her eyes. She hoped that would be enough of an explanation.

"This is Lyrium," Fenris hissed, letting his skin flash for a moment. The blue glow allowed him to see briefly her expression. Closed eyes, a half smile on her face, not a trace of worry or fear etched into her features. For whatever reason this annoyed him. How can she be so carefree? Hadrianna had found them once, no box of wine would protect them should she come looking again.

"Remember that field I could dispel with a trace of the powder?" Since she could not see his nod, she continued. "Why haven't you asked where it came from? You assume I coat my daggers in it? And I could not have put it in the wall beforehand, since I'd never been in the room until that night."

Fenris hated to admit, she had a point. He should have taken a closer look at her then. Something was not right.

Hawke picked up a handful of the dust. It shown a brilliant glittering blue in her palm, illuminated by whatever magic Lyrium seemed to contain. She held it out for him to touch. As soon as the tip of his glove did, however, it seemed to ripple and fade into normal, dull dust. Fenris swore.

"You do that a lot."

"And you lie a lot." He snapped. She brushed the dust from her hand, never removing her gaze from his angry green eyes. "Need I list them? 'I'll get your papa.' Or how about, 'I'll take you home'? My personal favorite, the lie you told right when you walked into Deaneries's mansion; 'I am no mage!'"

"Keep your voice low or I'll carve out your tongue." Her voice held no guilt or shock at his accusation. It held that same proud, arrogant tone she never seemed to lose. It was as if very few things could shake her. But Fenris and his anger were not to be quelled.

"I should have realized sooner what you were. You're a viper, a poison. What is your goal then, is this why you came here? No doubt you wanted a better foothold and more freedoms here than in Kirkwall. Being born a mage is an honor, and you know it."

"I am not a mage, Fenris."

"A blood mage no less, I saw what you did to Hadrianna. You stopped it from flowing in her veins, you redirected it, you could have killed her with a blink of your eye and you didn't even do that. You ran like a coward."

Hawke lashed out with her arm, a long delicate blade in hand. Fenris caught her wrist in time to do any damage, but the intended message had been received. Hawke was angry. She leaned to her knees, not once wincing at how stiff they still felt after days in the dungeon. The blade pressed closer to the elf, he had to lean back to keep it from coming in contact with his skin. "I am no coward, Fenris."She leaned back to her sitting position. But the treat made Fenris prepare to attack. His skin seemed to light the entire room. He sneered, about to claw at her face when something stopped him. The look on her face was terrifying, but that was not it. It was her eyes. The icy blue seemed to hold within them a brighter, more powerful kind of magic Fenris had never seen before. He calmed himself and did his best to relax, allowing her a moment to explain herself better. She seemed to understand this, and after taking a long deep breath she began;

"It is not a lie, not exactly anyway. I was not born a mage. That 'honor,' you so called it, fell to my younger sister. I stabbed her literally in the back with the same blade Orana now protects. Mages do not hold any sort of power over me. Not to say I am immune. Just to say…I've no emotional ties to them. I am not a mage, I swear this to you on my life."

"Then what pray tell are you?" Fenris snapped at her.

She looked down at her hands then, in her own mind she pictured the coats of blood she'd had on them after the war. Her sister's, Orsino's, even Meredith's. All the nameless soldiers and their families. Her former companion Merrill… Even if she didn't particularly like her, even if her blood magic enraged her, there could have been another way around her rather than cutting her down. She could tell Fenris she was, in fact, a sort of monster. Then her mind drifted to an earlier time, a time where she had two siblings and a mother and a father. A time where she was only a big sister and an eldest daughter. A friend to Aveline, a bitter taste to Anders. Someone's prize, another's villain. She was a lot of things, but what was she? A rebel? A visionary? A savior? Or, Varric's favorite, a simple opportunist who happens to be at all the wrong places at all the wrong times.

"During the war, there was a lot of Lyrium being used. One of my foes had a sword completely made of the stuff. When I struck her down, there were shards that flared everywhere like broken glass. It got in my eyes, my hair, my sweat and blood… It was a war, of course I was wounded. I was not branded with it like you were, but it is infused in me. So to answer you…I guess I would say I'm unlucky."

A sigh followed by a small chuckle was her reward. She smiled at it too. It wasn't like Fenris could argue with her.

"We can't stay here much longer. We should probably get out of the city for a few days and regroup." She stood, stretching out her arms.

The sheer gall of this woman never seemed to stop amazing him. As foolish as it was to follow her, as insane as it was to pledge himself to her, he could not help but feel as if she honestly had a power in her that seemed to draw people to her. She held a certain fire in her that refused to leave anyone untouched by her actions. If someone could in fact 'free the city', he knew she could do it. How, well, that was another story. For now, regrouping seemed like a good idea.

A laugh from her snapped him back to his senses. He stood, taking his sword he had leaned against a stack of wooden crates. He looked at her, waiting for her to explain her humor.

"What do you think that old master of yours would do to us if he caught us?" Fenris hardly saw the mirth in the question.

"Continue to slice you and skin the markings from my very skin, if he felt so inclined. He may even do both personally."

"Skin you? What a waste of a perfectly handsome elf." She smirked a little as she tucked her weapon into her sash, hiding it from view. Later Fenris would wonder how many of those blades of hers were hidden, she seemed to like arming herself to the teeth. But for now the statement caught Fenris off guard, and he found himself at a loss for words.

She moved a cask of ale enough for them to slip past. Peeking out the back entrance, she saw no one out. It was as if the people had suddenly vanished. The only souls seen were a man driving a carriage were a very wealthy woman was fanning herself. She waited until to wheeled itself past before sliding out and pressing against the wall. Fenris waited a few moments before following after her. Yes, he was convinced Hawke had power other than what she's shown. Perhaps it would be alright to trust her.

Just a little.

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I hope to post more soon but not for the rest of this week. Leave questions/comments in the comments. Thank you