Disclaimer: Hetalia-Axis Powers and Dragon age do not belong to me.

Chapter 10: As We Move Forward


Yong Soo looked up into the sky once more, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. He had sent his dear brother a message nearly an hour ago. Yao was never late. Could something have happened to him? He laughed. It was a preposterous thought, Yao didn't need anyone to worry about his welfare. You didn't just happen to be the Archon's right-hand man. Yao had earned Ivan's trust, and had fought to keep it. Yong Soo brought his hands to his lips, breath warming his chilled flesh.

Yao's official title was Healer of the Court, but that was by his choice. The Archon had wanted to appoint him to the Senate, but Yao had refused. It wasn't skill his brother lacked. Yao hadn't wanted to get caught up in the web of political strife. "So much for that," Yong Soo said evenly.

His dear brother had taken it upon himself to oversee the Magisters in Ivan's place. Only when he himself deemed the matter important would he allow them to meet with the Archon. He held a position in the very heart of the Tevinter politics.

And all because he cared.

oOo

Archon: The mage-ruler of the Tevinter Imperium.

Magister: One of the ruling mageocrats of the Tevinter Imperium. Magisters are members of the Senate and constantly compete with their fellows to rise into a higher position on the council, though they come together to put down slave rebellions, which they view as sedition. Raising one's position on the Senate can be achieved through wealth, magical prowess and/or support by fellow Senators.

oOo

The Archon had earned his position be his skills, there was no doubting that, but he kept his position because of Yao. His brother saw things that most would miss. Plans for assassinations thwarted, rules enforced, even when they were vastly unpopular. The new Empire was nothing to be trifled with.

And it was all due to Yao.

"Yao," he whined loudly, his voice clashing with the deathly silence of the sleeping alienage. What was his brother doing? Yong Soo leaned back against the wall, arms crossed as he watched hues of blue and purple appear in the sky.

oOo

Alienage: Squalid city wards in which elven citizens dwell. While there are rarely laws which strictly prohibit elves and humans integrating, an elf who moves into a human area is likely to be subjected to insults, torment and, in many cases, attacked even killed. It is for this reason that the alienages exist: a place for elves to mix among their own, where they do not stand out as much.

oOo

This sky was so very different from the one in the Imperium. The colors not the same, here the sky was an off shade of blue, the sun too dark, too cold and foreign on his flesh. Leon had said it was his imagination, but what did he know? Unlike the rest of them, Leon had basically been raised in Ferelden. But even if he only saw the difference in the colors of the sky, none of them could deny that the stars here weren't the same.

Yong Soo smiled softly, an unusual peace falling around him. Yao had found him because of those stars. Had found all of them because he had meddled in affairs that didn't require his attention, Leon, Mei, Trinh, and that traitor.

The smile morphed, tight and unpleasant. What semblance of serenity that had been present gone. It seemed that intervening was something that Yao excelled at and, for better or worse, it was something that his dear brother wouldn't be giving up anytime soon. Especially seeing as he was here in Ferelden trying to forge an alliance.

Was that elf, too, a product of Yao's intrusion?

Maker, did Yao expect him to call the elf brother?

"Sorry about being so late I – what's wrong?" Yong Soo turned, eyes large with panic, an embarrassed grin etched upon his face. Yao raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "… Right." Yao walked towards Yong Soo, the cobblestone amplifying each step. "It took longer than I expected to leave the palace. It seems they have extra guards around the guest quarters," he said thoughtfully.

"Don't worry about it." Yong Soo smiled, his embarrassment from before forgotten for the moment. It wasn't often that Yao apologized to him. Had this been Leon or Mei, he would certainly have taunted them for their lateness. But this was Yao, and he had learned that his older brother often didn't see the humor in his jabs.

"So, why did you call me out here so early? Don't tell me that you've already found information on the slavers."

Yong Soo grinned, his gloom, like always, gone in the presence of Yao. "I've been watching the alienage like you asked me to. It's been real quiet, too, which is why this particular elf caught my attention."

"It is an elven alienage, Yong Soo."

"Heh," he leaned forward, his gaze never leaving Yao's own. "But this was a Dalish elf. And he had an Orlesian with him. An Orlesian Grey Warden to be precise."

"… The same guest staying at the palace?" Yong Soo nodded. "And in the company of a Dalish elf?"

oOo

Dalish Elves: Elves that lead nomadic lives, wandering throughout Thedas. The clans date back to the ruling clans of the Dales and the Dalish themselves are their descendants. Dalish elves seek to recover, inherit and preserve the knowledge and sacred treasures of their two fallen kingdoms(Arlathan and the Dales) and for that purpose they'll often seek out old elven ruins for such things in the face of danger. They still revere the elven pantheon.

Grey Wardens: An ancient organization of warriors of exceptional ability dedicated to fighting darkspawn throughout Thedas. The Grey Wardens are known for ignoring a recruit's racial, social, national, and even criminal background if they deem the person valuable in terms of character or ability.

oOo

"So you didn't know about the elf?"

Yao shook his head. "Though I'm surprised that a Dalish elf is willingly speaking with a human. They're not very trusting of any human institutions, and that includes the Wardens." Yong Soo nodded, all too aware of the truth in Yao's words. It was one of the reasons he had followed them.

"I remembered you telling me about the Orlesian," he began, his cheerful voice darkening at the mention of the Warden who had insulted his brother. "The elf only piqued my interest further. That accent of his means he's from here, from Ferelden."

Yao mulled over the information, his gaze distant. "Elf or not, the Orlesians don't particularly care for foreigners. Not even when they had conquered Ferelden. The Dalish have as much right to hate Orlais as Fereldeners do. And yet he's with an Orlesian…" Yao tilted his head to the side. "But what does this have to do with the slavers?"

"That's the thing, I had followed them out of simple curiosity," and possibly to get back at that Warden. Not that he would tell Yao that. "But as it turns out, they're quite interested in the slavers as well."

Yao's face went blank instantly. "They're interested in the slave ring?" Yong Soo nodded, not quite sure if the question was directed at him or to Yao himself. "Did you hear anything else?"

"Well," he fought to keep the smile from his lips, yet the tall-tale sign of the tips of his lips curving gave him away, "that Orlesian seems very interested in you. Not just him, his friend too."

Yao grimaced at the comment. His eyes drawing Yong Soo in, those eyes! Yong Soo fisted his hands. Those amber eyes were far too solemn and somehow – somehow they suddenly looked far too old, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

And Yong Soo did not doubt it.

He watched Yao quietly, suddenly reminded of a very familiar scene from his childhood. There weren't many things he remembered, but he could recall nearly every memory involving Yao. And standing there in that alley, in the alienage in Ferelden, watching Yao think away… well, he felt like a child again.

Once more mesmerized by that intense look in those amber eyes, the way they darted back and forth, connecting dots that only he could see. He always had admired the way Yao could see beyond simple words and actions. Yao always saw what others were blind to.

"Those Grey Wardens," Yong Soo blinked in surprise, finding Yao's steady gaze upon him, "I don't believe it's a mere coincidence that they're here in Ferelden."

Yao paced before Yong Soo, strands of hair escaping from their binds. "This Warden," he stopped, an aggravated sigh leaving his lips as he turned to face Yong Soo. "I've been in Ferelden for well over a month, yet the king has been unable to see me. At every opportunity this Warden comes and takes the king's time." He narrowed his gaze as he looked back towards the palace. "I think they're purposefully sabotaging this meeting between me and the king. Between the Tevinter Imperium and Ferelden."

"So what? You think they're responsible for the slavers?"

Yao shot a weathering look at Yong Soo, "Don't be foolish." For a second a glimmer of a younger, but still miffed, Yao stood before him. Youthful eyes full of optimism all too suddenly replaced by eyes that were strong and guarded, capable of fostering trust and well versed in hiding the truth. "I'm more than certain that they have nothing to do with the slave ring being here in Ferelden. Though it must have been quite the surprise when they heard that I was coming," he said with a wry smile. "They don't trust my intentions. I think they're hoping that if they stall enough I'll make a mistake, possibly make a scene from being kept waiting or…"

"Or…?" he prompted, catching the subtle change in Yao's posture. The tightness which Yao held himself was far more revealing than any words he could have spoken. It may not have been obvious to others, but he knew his brother well enough to know when to stay clear of him. Everyone was terrified of the Archon's fury, but Yao's own wrath was nothing to be trifled with.

Just how much pressure was his brother under? Yong Soo furrowed his brow as he watched Yao's feet move smoothly over the cobblestone, each step precise and absolute. "Or," Yao said at last, "they think I'm connected to the slavers. I could be using this political talk as a pretext to actually speak with the slavers."

The words clung to the air, heavy and wet.

"You're kidding, right?"

Yao pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "This isn't funny."

"But, you?" he shouted. "They think that you're involved in slavery?" Yong Soo walked forward, swinging his arm playfully about Yao's shoulder. "If they think that, then they're nothing to worry about. You're always talking about knowing your enemy. Well they clearly don't know you."

Yao looked at him in surprise, a soft smile replacing his astonishment. "Misinformed enemies are just as dangerous."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Appearances are deceiving," Yao said automatically. "Didn't I teach you that as a child?"

"I know, I know, I'm not a child attached to your hip anymore."

Yao nodded, his gaze distant as he stared up into shifting sky. "Is that right?" he said skeptically. "Age means nothing, Yong Soo. You could live to be the age of the Maker, but if you're no wiser than you were in your youth, then who's to say you're still not a child?"

He pulled away from Yong Soo, pulling tightly bound parchments from the pouch at his side. "Deliver these to the others. The nobility has been watching everything I send out with the strictest scrutiny. I can't have these documents be intercepted. See that they make it."

"I won't let you down."

"I know you won't." Yao straightened his cloak and took a step away from Yong Soo, before stopping and turning back. After a slight hesitation he reached out and gently ruffled Yong Soo's hair. "You did well, brother."

Yao turned, a slight blush on his cheeks as he walked into the waking city.

Yong Soo watched him until he disappeared among the tall lanky buildings of the alienage. A large grin set firmly upon his face. He fondly patted his head, a deep feeling of childlike euphoria engulfing him.

"Maybe being treated as a kid isn't too bad," he muttered softly to himself as he melded with the slowly revived city.


Alfred ran his hand through his hair absentmindedly while Ivan spoke. It had gone much like this for the past week. Ivan met with countless Magisters while Alfred watched on as his personal guard. The recent influx of meetings had more to do with Toris than anything else. He simply couldn't say no to anyone.

Alfred stifled a yawn, fighting the temptation to fidget where stood. He hadn't protested when Ivan told him to accompany him to these meetings, but he hadn't realized just how boring legal proceeding were.

When he had belonged to Sadik there hadn't been anytime for his mind to stray. He had assumed that all meetings were like that. Now he knew it was because Sadik dealt with the shadier side of Tevinter politics.

"… you should receive the documents before nightfall. Is that all?" The Magister nodded, bowing before he left. Once the doors closed Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose, shoulders slightly slumping as he leaned back onto his seat..

The look of exhaustion wasn't lost on Alfred, neither was the look of annoyance that he threw at Toris. "When is the next one?" he asked Toris.

"The next one is-is," he cleared his throat, "in forty minutes."

Ivan nodded gaze turning vacant,

Alfred and Ivan hadn't been able to speak freely since the attack. Despite that Ivan kept him close. He demanded that Alfred be at these meeting. He ate with Alfred even though his focus was elsewhere. Had Alfred stand guard when he bathed, and then guarded Alfred when he himself bathed. And Ivan did it all without any of the usual jibes.

He did try to have Alfred bathe with him once, but relented immediately once he saw Alfred's face. "It's to save time, Alfred." Looking back on it, Ivan might have been speaking the truth.

He began sleeping in Alfred's room, a plush chair suddenly appearing in his room with Ivan lounging on it. But Ivan's idea of rest was work. When he would be able to sleep Alfred would awaken to the sound of quill against paper and Ivan's soft mutters of annoyance.

The looks he would give Alfred when he thought he wasn't looking where concerning. Even the smug smiles he wore were toned down.

By all accounts Alfred should have been happy.

But he wasn't.

He wanted to talk about this whole thing. Clear it up and get answers. But Ivan had no time or simply wasn't in the mood.

"Alfred?"

"Hmm," he blinked. "Yeah?"

Ivan's brows pulled in. "I said that Magister Elizabeta wants to see you. There's a bit of time before my next meeting. I can accompany you." He smiled and it actually reached his eyes.

"Checkup?"

He nodded. "Come, let's go before I find myself out of time once again."

Ivan was beaming as he walked beside Alfred. His smile thinning as they approached the infirmary. "I can't stay for the examination."

Alfred nodded. "Figured. No problem."

"Yes, there is a problem." Ivan's gaze lingered on the exposed bandages wrapped around Alfred's neck, what looked suspiciously like guilt flickering through his eyes. "Ask Elizabeta to stay with you until I can come and get you."

"I can just go to you afterwards."

"No." Ivan's tone was business like, stern and professional. "Ask her to stay behind, Alfred. You can't be left alone."

Alfred crossed his arms. "I can't?"

"No," Ivan glared, "you can't."

He matched the glare before finally relenting. Alfred threw his hands before him as he walked away from Ivan. An exasperated, "Creators," leaving his lips. He was not in the mood for this.

Alfred stormed into the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Elizabeta jerked at the noise, eyes wide as she stared at Alfred.

"Hey," he said weakly, ears burning red.

She smiled as she shook her head. "Hi yourself." She glanced at the door. "No Archon today?" The surprise in her voice was hard to miss.

"Just me."

"That's a rare site these days."

Alfred hummed in agreement, sitting on the examination table.

Elizabeta looked well. The last time he saw her she had looked exhausted. Her eyes had been dark and flat, her hair disheveled as if she had been running her hands through it nonstop. Alfred had awoken numerous times to her tending his wounds in that appearance. Each time she had asked him how he was. Was he alright? What hurt?

"How are you?"

"I'm fine," Alfred smiled a lopsided grin at her reassuringly. It must have worked because the unease on her face faded, replaced with a warm smile.

"Mind taking your armor off? Just the upper portion will be fine." Elizabeta turned away from him, busying herself with some herbs and salves while Alfred removed his equipment. It was ridiculous that she turn away from him, ridiculous that she would give him privacy.

Alfred smiled widely, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. "Thank you," he said softly. Elizabeta paused for a moment, but gave no other indication that she heard him.

She turned back after Alfred called out to her.

Her brow wrinkled as she eyed the worn bandages. "I should have asked to see you sooner," she said. "Have any of these given you a problem?"

"Some of them… itch."

Elizabeta removed the bandages around his chest. "Itch?" She bit her lip as she cautiously traced a jagged gash across Alfred's chest. He squirmed on the seat. "Sorry." She pulled her hand back, examining the liquid on her finger. "When did it start?"

"I'm not sure," Alfred paused. Ivan. It always started itching when Ivan was far from him. The first time he noticed the itching was when he was bathing. Ivan had been outside the room. Even now the itching was starting to become a nuisance.

Elizabeta nodded slowly, eyes flicking back from the Alfred's wounds to the residue on her finger. "The wounds aren't healing." She frowned. "I'm going to try stitching magic into some of the gashes, okay?"

"You're the boss."

Elizabeta grimaced as she worked, threading magic through Alfred's skin. It was… unpleasant. Alfred muscles jerked involuntarily with each stitch. "I'm nearly done," she reassured, stitching around the lyrium markings on his skin. She hesitated mid-stitch, eyes flicking back to a gash she had already sutured.

"They're reopening…" she said in disbelief, eyes widening as she took a step back. "Magic has no affect. That's why the wounds still look so fresh." Elizabeta turned away from Alfred, scanning the shelves wildly.

Alfred's chest felt tight as if there was a vice grip around his heart. "What does that mean?" he asked, voice lowered to a whisper.

"Some demons, when they attack, leave their mark behind. It's to weaken their target. Compromise their health and you'll have an easy target. That black residue in your wounds is to keep you weak. That's explains the itching you're feeling, it may be the start of an infection. I'm going to put some of this salve on your wounds. I'm not sure if it will help heal you wounds, but it will help fight the infection."

Alfred swallowed thickly. "Alright." He didn't protest when Elizabeta smeared the salve over his skin, didn't even feel the numb relief that the cream was supposed to give. His skin was on fire, his chest tight. More than ever he wanted to know what the alternative was.

Alfred had come to terms with sleeping with Ivan.

Sex was supposed to be intimate, but that didn't mean it always was.

He had only had sex with two people that he knew of, his blank memory notwithstanding. He himself had used sex as a tool when he had belonged to Sadik, but it was more flirtation and some heavy foreplay that he employed, never going any further with his targets.

All they needed was the promise that they would bed Alfred for them to drop their guard. Only once had he come close to the actual act itself.

The Magister he had been tasked with killing bore an unhealthy resemblance to Sadik in the way that she received pleasure. The more blood she had running off Alfred's body the more she lost herself in ecstasy, the more her guard dropped.

Even when Alfred ripped her beating heart out she smiled, a contented sigh the last sound she made as she fell upon him.

Sex was a means to an end. A tool.

If Ivan was right and the alternative was no better or even worse, then Alfred would have no qualms about this arrangement.

At least not anymore.


The smile that graced Yao's face came easily. When Lily had informed him that the King would see him, well, he knew that something was amiss. But he hadn't expected that something to be the Wardens.

Yao nodded at them, smile still in place. It made sense and Yao had entertained the notion of the Wardens being present during these proceedings, but he had ultimately dismissed the idea all together. The Orlesian smiled back at Yao pleasantly while the elf narrowed his gaze.

What anxiety that laced through his veins vanished at the reproachful look, replaced instead with the familiar air of diplomatic confidence. Yao was used to this. He may be in another land, but he was more than familiar with the attitude that the elven Warden radiated.

Truth be told, the animosity almost made it feel like home.

"Welcome to Denerim." Yao's gaze moved toward the commanding voice. King Basch sat upon his throne, his blonde chin-length hair reminiscent of Princess Lily, but that was where their similarities ended. Unlike the Princess, the King's eyes held a controlled hardness. There was no kindness in its depths, only a thinly veiled curiosity.

Yao bowed. "Thank you for having me, your Majesty."

King Basch nodded. His gaze solely on Yao as he spoke. "I must admit, it came as a surprise when I saw your letter. An alliance," he mused aloud, his stony gaze lingering on the Wardens for a second. "I was originally going to deny your request, but this conversation proved too tempting. It's not often that your Empire would send the Archon's second in command out of the safety of their borders."

"Our two countries," Basch began, "don't have much in common. Except on our dealings with other nation, other leaders." King Basch smiled, the action eerily reminiscent to Ivan's own. "Both our nations don't like to get involved. Not with the petty wars of the foolish nations around us, not in their causes, none of it." He looked at Yao. "Our own countries come first."

"Alliances do not come without ulterior motives." King Basch motioned towards the Wardens, gaze amused. "You didn't even try to hide the fact that you were meeting with me. Did you really think that the other nations in Thedas wouldn't look at this alliance without a bit of fear?"

"There's nothing to hide. The Tevinter Imperium wants this alliance to be public."

King Basch nodded, irritation visible in his voice. "And yet three countries requested the Wardens be present for this conversation." He looked at the Wardens, hands lightly clenched. "Ferelden has remained neutral to all nations since our independence. One request of an alliance and suddenly I have all these countries poking their noses in proceedings that are none of their business." He looked back at Yao, emotions reeled back. "Ferelden is an isolationist country. I was under the impression that the Tevinter Imperium was as well."

"Isolationism doesn't come without problems," Yao began. "The Tevinter Imperium has cut most ties with Thedas, not all of them voluntarily. It's no secret that the empire doesn't have the best reputation amongst the countries." The elf mumbled what was no doubt an insult, but Yao ignored it. "The empire has changed much since then. I'm not certain how much accurate news leaves the empire, but we have a new Archon. One who wants change in Tevinter."

"Yes, Archon Ivan, the mage who took down the Arishok single-handedly," King Basch remarked, a bit of admiration is his tone. "Must have been quite the battle, seeing as the rumor in Thedas is that your senate voted unanimously for him to become the new mage-ruler."

oOo

Archon: The mage-ruler of the Tevinter Imperium.

Arishok: The leader and highest ranking general of the antaam, the military branch of the Qunari.

Qunari: Name for the horned race that primarily inhabits northern Thedas. It is also a term that can refer to a member of any race who adheres to the teachings of the Qun: humans, elves and even dwarves can thus become Qunari.

Qun: is a philosophy, a set of laws, a legislative guide, and a social architecture governing the Qunari. The Qun defines the role of everyone and everything in the society of the Qunari.

oOo

"Yes, it was quite the battle," Yao said, tone slightly prideful. "Archon Ivan has been putting pressure where our previous rulers were lax. But as it turns out, internal change is vastly more difficult when you have external influences keeping your trouble around."

Basch raised a brow. "And what external influences can be so pressing that your country is actively seeking alliances?"

"Slavery," Yao said calmly. "Illegal slavery."

The shift of emotions in the room was instantaneous. If Yao hadn't had everybody's attention before, he certainly did then.

"Slavery?" King Basch questioned, tone incredulous. "What does slavery have to do with Tevinter's isolationist stance? With this alliance?" He looked at Yao with suspicion. "Doesn't your country practically run on slavery?"

Yao smiled, but the strain of it wasn't lost on the king. "Slavery is not illegal in Tevinter. I am not here to tell you otherwise. But," Yao stressed, "the buying and selling of citizens from other countries is." He paused, making certain that the King understood. "The empires stance just isn't for our protection. It's supposed to help us uphold our laws. With an empire as large as ours, well, there are enough complexities making sure the empire functions as it should." Yao's gaze hardened. "So you can understand why this is making us break our long held belief of steering clear of the rest of Thedas."

"You want to know what you would gain from this alliance?" Yao asked, not waiting for the king's response. "The threat of slavers within Ferelden will be no more."

A sharp intake of breath from the Wardens was all that marked the announcement, but even that fell on deaf ears.

"You're offering an alliance to stop ? In Ferelden?"

Yao nodded. "It's as you said. Why else would two isolationist countries suddenly forge an alliance? Because there has to be something gained. Something important enough for both parties to see past their animosity for one another."

King Basch leaned back against his throne, hands interlocked before him. He tilted his head slightly, and regarded Yao silently.

"Ferelden doesn't need a friend."

"No, it doesn't, and neither does Tevinter. But I'm not proposing a friendship. An alliance based on gains, and a common goal is what Tevinter is offering."

"And when that common conviction we both share divulges?" Basch questioned.

"Then we go are separate ways."

He said nothing for quite some time. "You may be the Archon's confidant, but here in Ferelden that doesn't count for much." King Basch stood and quietly made his way towards Yao, there was a cautiousness in the way he approached him. Almost as if he expected Yao to lunge at him, this meeting all a pretense to slay Ferelden's king.

It was a foolish thought.

Tevinter was busy with one war. It didn't need a second.

Though Yao suspected that the King's vigilance had been ingrained in him from birth. The former king had freed Ferelden from Orlais, and he would have made certain that it would not fall again under his son.

And in that regard the king had a right to be weary. Ferelden, for all its current might, was still a freshly, independent nation. And if he recalled Ferelden rule correctly, the king received his support and power from the noble families. Without it, he was king only in name.

"And that common ambition?"

"Ending slavery in Ferelden."

"And when said goal is accomplished?"

"This alliance is terminated. As I said, Tevinter has no need for friends. We have interest. If your interests and our interests align, you will be an ally. If your interests and our interests diverge, then well…"

Basch nodded, face blank as his eyes bore into Yao's own. "I need more than just you word. The nobles need more than just your word. What you are asking of me is damn near impossible."

"The same could be said for what your father, the former king, did for Ferelden. Uniting fractions of Alamarri tribesmen under the Zwingli family crest. And when he had accomplished the unthinkable he did the unimaginable. He managed to drive Orlais out of his land."

oOo

Alamarri: The tribal ancestors of the Fereldans, the people who live in the nation of Ferelden. The Alamarri was not a single tribe, but a loose coalition of tribes.

oOo

Yao smiled as he caught the very light crease on king Basch's brow. "You find my country interesting," Basch said pensively. "But what I find interesting is not your empire – it's you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." He stepped back, scrutinizing Yao from the bit of distance he had put between them. "You're actually someone of importance in the Tevinter Imperium. If something happens to you, your empire would suffer greatly." He met Yao's gaze, his own expression predatory. "Yet here you are, proposing we use one another."

"This is too important to rely on a messenger. As you said yourself, you wouldn't have met with Tevinter if we had sent someone of no importance."

"And that is why I find you interesting." Basch glanced away for a second, arms crossed as he looked from the Wardens back to Yao. "Even if I wanted this alliance the nobles wouldn't agree to it. Your presence is not enough to merit an alliance." His arms fell to the side. "There is no trust."

Yao nodded. "I knew you wouldn't readily agree. What would you need of Tevinter- of me - to even open the grounds up for a discussion of an alliance with the nobles?"

At that question Yao caught the quick look Basch gave the Wardens. "You want to open the doors for discussion?" Basch smiled, and it was tight and humorless. "Deal with the slavers that have made Denerim their home."

Yao nodded, suddenly aware of the heavy gazes boring into his back. "I have spent enough time in this city to realize that slavers are a problem. Even if you hadn't asked me to rid your city of them, I would have proposed it." Yao smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Tevinter has no need for citizens who dabble in this field. It leaves a sour taste in ones mouth for all those involved."

"If you succeed in ridding this city of this plague, then I will call a Landsmeet." He looked at Yao, face impassive once more. "However, I make no promises that we will agree to an alliance. We were conquered once. And the scars and memories of that occupation are seldom forgotten."

oOo

Landsmeet: A council of the Fereldan noble class which has been held annually for almost three thousand years, only occasionally interrupted by war or foreign occupation. It brought together all the fractured Alamarri tribes. After the unification of the kingdom, it functions as the official legislative body for Ferelden, and can override the king or queen on any matter of law.

oOo

It was what he wanted, a chance to prove himself to the king. But part of Yao felt that he had somehow played right into the king's hand. It had been too easy. He had blamed the Wardens for the delay in meeting the king, but what if they too were nothing more than pawns?


He wished he could say he was surprised. "You're alone."

"No," Alfred said around a cocky smile. "Not anymore."

Ivan walked towards him, briefly closing his eyes as he stood before Alfred. "Maker's breath, Alfred, do you think this is a game?"

"No, I don't."

"Then why are you alone?"

"So we can talk," Alfred said through gritted teeth. "Something we haven't had time to do."

Ivan's voice was strong and cold as he said, "Then let's talk."

"You knew that there was something wrong with these wounds. They itch when you're not around."

Ivan didn't miss the accusatory tone. "I suspected there was something wrong with them, but I wasn't certain," he admitted. "You had numerous gashes, Alfred. Whatever that black ooze was, you were drenched in it. I tried healing you on my way back, and it did nothing."

Alfred shook his head, bitter laughter leaving his lips. "So you knew… you knew."

"It was a horrible mistake," Ivan said bluntly. "I should never have left you alone in the first place." He clenched his jaw. "That's why I told you to keep Elizabeta with you. But you know nothing of self-preservation. What if something had happened to you? Who would help you then?"

"Myself!" Alfred shouted angrily. "You said there was another way, so what is it?" he pressed, breath hitching. "What is it?"

"You want to know?" Ivan questioned just as angrily. "Tell me, elf, what do you hate more than sleeping with me?" He loomed over Alfred, voice so cold that Alfred couldn't help but shiver. "Magic, Alfred. Your other choice is to accept what you are."

"Be a mage?" he said in a quiet voice.

Ivan turned away, breathing slowly as he tried to ground himself. He wanted to lash out at Alfred, berate him for not asking for help. For pushing him away, for simply not sleeping with him.

But it wasn't Alfred he was mad at. It was himself.

Human hubris had created the first demons; his own hubris had created this mess. Alfred's demon-tinged skin was a reminder of just how close he had come to losing the elf. A reminder of Ivan's failure.

"You're strong, Alfred," he turned back towards the elf. "You're also untrained. And that is a dangerous mix." He rubbed the middle of his forehead, eyes closed. This situation was a mess. There was no denying that he had been happy when he realized he would be too preoccupied to speak with Alfred.

"What about the Harrowing? I passed your test," Alfred said, clenching his teeth as he stood slowly, eyes ablaze as he walked the short distance to Ivan. "I passed it."

oOo

The Circle of Magi: The dominant organization for the training of mages within nations of Thedas. They are governed and monitored by the Chantry.

Harrowing: A secret rite of passage that the Circle administers, without warning, to adult apprentice mages. The ritual is analogous to a vaccination - the apprentice is exposed to a demon under controlled circumstances in order to prove that they are strong and willful enough to fight off an attempt at possession. If a mage fails this test, they become possessed by a demon and undergo a physical transformation and are immediately destroyed by the Templars monitoring them.

oOo

"All the Harrowing proved is that you are capable of fighting off possession. It does not mean that you are completely immune from temptation." Alfred's stare turned pained, and Ivan felt his chest tighten at the look. "Those who can tap into the raw energy of the Fade and block the temptations of demons are rare. That is what makes a mage powerful. Not strength or power, but the ability to focus. Emotions are dangerous for mages, just a bit of fear, lust, pride," he said pointedly, "is all a demon needs. They'll watch you, whisper temptations all around you until they're shouts. You either succumb or you break. But you already know that," he said.

oOo

Fade: Known by the Dalish as the Beyond, it is a metaphysical realm that is part of Thedas yet separated by the Veil. Every living being, with the exception of dwarves, enters the Fade mentally when they dream and mages tap into it when they cast spells. Demons and spirits reside in the Fade.

Veil: A metaphysical barrier between the mortal realm and the Fade. Neither spirits nor mortal beings can easily pass physically through the Veil, but the consciousness of mortal dreamers easily does so. The Veil is not an object; it cannot be touched or seen. It is a metaphor used by mortal scholars to explain the interactions between the two different realities.

oOo

Alfred's skin flushed at the remark. "And how would I go about controlling my emotions?"

"Practice. You would need to conjure spells and focus. When you tap into the Fade you use your emotions to fuel your magic." He licked his lips with cautious hope. "Emotions are a mages greatest strength, and their greatest weakness. That is your other option, Alfred."

It was only a second, but in that moment Ivan saw furious rage, numbing fear, and burning shame cross Alfred's face. It took Alfred a moment to recover, but even then slight tremors rocked his body. He walked away from Ivan only to change direction mid-stride, pacing about the room, a fist pressed to his mouth, his other arm wrapped across his stomach protectively.

Ivan said nothing as he watched him. What more could he say? This was something that Alfred had to decide. Ivan had decided enough for him.

Alfred's fist slamming onto the tabletop jarred Ivan from his thought. "If I decide to do this, be a mage, it would take time. I would still have to sleep with you, wouldn't I?" The stress in his voice audible.

"Yes," Ivan said. "But there is a silver lining. One day you'll be able to block the demons yourself." His voice lowered. "You won't need to sleep with me."

"What kind of choices are those?" Alfred hissed.

"The only ones you have."

He took a step towards Alfred and stopped. "I won't force you to choose, Alfred. This is your choice." He wanted to cradle Alfred's face, hold him close, and protect him from everything. But enough was enough.

"You're gonna let me decide?" Alfred snorted. "Sure, I definitely believe that."

"Legally you are my slave, but I've already told you that to me you are my personal guard. If you are truly against anything I ask you to do I will not force you." Ivan walked towards Alfred, gaze never leaving Alfred's own bright eyes. "Men choose, Alfred. Slaves obey."

His face registered comprehension, and some fire came back into Alfred's eyes. "I'm no slave."

Ivan nodded, the pressure in his chest easing slightly. "Do you need time to decide?"

"No."

Now that was a surprise.

"I'm tired of surviving." Alfred's cheeks burned at the admission, eyes bright as his breathing hitched. "I want to live."

At once Ivan enveloped Alfred in his arms, eyes soft. Alfred buried his face into Ivan's chest, body rocking against him roughly. "I want to live," he repeated, voice choked with tears.

"You will. I will make sure of it," he said softly.

They stood like that for some time. Ivan had missed this. Missed holding Alfred, missed the feel of his body against his own. But this wasn't how he had imagined it happening. Never would he have thought that Alfred would agree to be trained in the arts of magic.

It spoke volumes of just how desperate Alfred was to free himself. His gaze from Alfred, a heavy weight settling in his chest. This was his mistake. Yao had warned him not to make Alfred go through the Harrowing, but he had chosen to ignore it.

And for a while it had been fine. If only he had been able to foresee this outcome. Alfred wasn't just another life, he was someone Ivan cared for. He had wormed himself into Ivan's life without even trying.

He was important.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, lowering his head onto Alfred's. His voice was warm and heavy as he held Alfred tightly. "I'm sorry."


"So they're in the alienage?" Yao asked. "Do you know that for certain?"

Francis nodded. "The king's been applying pressure in the alienage since your meeting with him. It seems that he was hoping the slavers would mess-up if they suspected that they were close to being caught. He was right," he answered. "The King wants us to handle the situation tonight." Some confusion must have showed on Yao's face because Francis added, "You didn't think the King would let you do this on your own, did you?"

The other Warden, the elf, looked at Yao with his arms crossed, his body leaning against the wall. Yao looked at them both but didn't answer. But it wasn't what they thought. Yao knew that the King wouldn't trust him with this event. And in truth, he would have acted just like King Basch had their roles been reversed. It was the fact that Yao would be working with the Wardens that came as a surprise. But now was not the moment to start a fight. It would be stupid and childish to do so, especially when he would be relying on their help.

Slavers usually meant blood magic. And Yao had only needed to be shown once that blood mages were not something to be taken lightly. At least Francis had his training as a Templar to bring to the fight. It wasn't as if this forced union didn't have anything to be gained. "How did you find their base?" Yao asked instead.

Arthur answered, "They cocked-up." He tilted his head back, light illuminating the vallaslin on his skin, eyes closed. "They were rushing along the alienage, caught by surprise by the guards the King had stationed there. It seems they didn't have the time to hide their presence, which made following them all the more easy." Arthur's nose crinkled in distaste at his next words, "You could taste the corruption in the air. They had tried using magic to lore us away, much good that did. It only let us know for certain that their magic is soaked in blood." Arthur glanced at Yao. "Such corruption must cling to most Tevinter mages."

oOo

Vallaslin: Is what the Dalish call the intricate facial tattoos worn by all adult clan members. When a Dalish elf comes of age, they prepare to gain the vallaslin by meditating on the gods and the ways of the Dalish, and by purifying the body and the skin. When the time comes, the Keeper of the clan applies the blood writing. This is done in complete silence. Cries of pain are taken as signs of weakness. If a young elf cannot tolerate the pain of the blood writing, they are deemed unready to undertake the responsibilities of an adult.

oOo

Yao reigned in his frustration, only a slight smile greeting Arthur's words. "Blood magic is illegal. It has been for a very long time."

Arthur snorted. "Illegal?" he repeated. "You'd never guess it with how your country operates."

"I'm not here to prove anything to the Grey Wardens," Yao answered amicably. "I am here to show King Basch that the Tevinter Imperium means what it is proposing. There are no ulterior motives, despite what you may think. This alliance… this relationship – whatever our two countries decide to call it – is not a friendship. The King knows that. Tevinter knows that." Yao caught the look of indignation spreading across Arthur's face at each word and continued. "This will be an alliance based on gains, not friendship."

Francis interceded before Arthur could even open his mouth, playfully clasping Arthur on his shoulder. "And we are here to oversee this situation." He smiled gently at Arthur. "If you keep this up, I may think you like him better than me." Arthur pushed Francis, who laughed lightly, but said nothing. "Why don't you go check on your brother?" Francis suggested.

"If you want me to leave just say so," Arthur said as he gazed hard at Yao before turning his attention back to Francis. "Don't bring my brother up again." He whispered more words to Francis, and Yao was certain that he could hear Arthur's words if he listened closely, but he found that he was tired of hearing the elven Wardens voice.

If Arthur's words were important then Francis would share them, if not, well, the better for himself.

Both men watched as Arthur turned and left the room, the door closing shut with a dull click. Francis laughed as he turned back to Yao. "Dalish," he simply said. And Yao found himself nodding with Francis' answer; he knew a Dalish elf with a stubborn streak as well.

"Look," Francis began, "I'm all for bickering and fighting, as well as the occasional drink, but if we are going to work together, then we should forgo the unnecessary fighting until later."

"I agree."

Francis clasped his hands in approval. "Good. Once this matter is attended to, we can go back to hating one another, just like the Maker intended." He smiled pleasantly at Yao, eyes twinkling with mirth. "I'll be the first to drink once this is over, I'd invite you but I think my friend may want to have some words with you first."

oOo

Maker: The entity worshipped by the Chantry.

Chantry: The dominant religious organization in Thedas.

oOo

Yao smiled and shook his head. If Francis' accent didn't give him away, then his actions certainly did. How like an Orlesian to glaze over the tactical aspect of the plan. "We're getting ahead of ourselves." Francis frowned lightly at the words. "We know where they're hiding, so what's our course of action? Or have you not come up with one yet?"

Francis smiled devilishly. "Planning has never been my strong suit. Now, killing...killing and love-making. Killing and love-making and witty retorts. Those I am better at." He leaned towards Yao, smile bright as he winked. "But I made an exception for you. Simply put we sneak in. The report stated that they saw three slavers, though I'm inclined to believe that there are more."

"More than likely," Yao agreed. "I doubt three slavers would be capable of kidnapping so many. Mage or not, to affect this community this greatly… there have to be more slavers involved."

At the mention of mages Francis bristled. Yao's skin prickled against the sudden tightness in the air. It pushed against him, and Yao fought the urge to push back. "If these Tevinters are surprised now, they're in for a greater treat when they see me." Francis smiled. "I don't believe that they ever anticipated having a Templar crash their party."

oOo

Templar: Armed with the ability to dispel and resist magic in addition to their formidable combat talents, the Templars are the first line of defense against the dark powers of blood mages and abominations.

oOo

Yao pushed back against the feeling, his skin tingling as healing magic danced around his flesh. The pressure in the air pulled at the magic, and Yao let it. He was far more interested in Francis' skills. "About that… just how is it that you're a Grey Warden? I highly doubt that the Divine would allow one of her soldiers to leave her personal army." He looked at Francis with a long hard look. "Come to think of it, I have never heard of anyone ever leaving the Templar Order. Aren't you sworn to an oath?"

oOo

Divine: The leader of the Chantry organization at large, based out of the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. The Divine of the Chantry is always female. The Tevinter Imperium however, have their own Divine, who is a male as well as their own version of the Chantry; the Imperial Chantry.

oOo

Francis looked at Yao with a bemused grin. "If you're really interested, I can discuss the finer details of my enlistment with the Grey Wardens with you in my quarters."

Yao flushed lightly. "That's alright. It was simple curiosity, I assure you." And it was curiosity. When he returned back home to the Imperium he would have to ask Ivan to look into this matter for him. While Francis was clearly from the Orlesian branch of the Grey Wardens, that didn't mean he wasn't required to keep contact with the main headquarters of the organization. And unlike himself, Ivan was actually on very good terms with Berwald, the leader of all the Grey Wardens. "Do you have a backup plan in case a Templar doesn't come as a surprise?"

Francis crossed his arms. "Mages fear Templars."

"They do," Yao agreed. "In Ferelden and most of Thedas Templars are feared. But these mages are from Tevinter. And Templars are not feared there. These mages haven't gone unnoticed because of luck. It takes an enormous amount of skill and ability to remain unnoticed by two countries. I don't doubt that these slavers have squared off against Templars before. And seeing as they're still operating, I believe it is safe to assume that they are well equipped to fight against your imposing Templar might."

"Well then… we can always use our mages against their mages. Arthur is nothing to be trifled with. He may be from Ferelden but there is no doubt that he carries the blood of the Dalish."

"He's a mage?" Francis nodded. "You'd never guess by his opinions on magic." Opinions that were reminiscent of those that belonged to another Dalish elf he knew.

Francis looked at Yao dubiously. "You don't actually expect mages outside of Tevinter to agree with your type of magic, do you?"

"Just how misinformed about the Tevinter Imperium are you?" Yao shook his head. "Even we have laws regarding magic."


Evening arrived without much incident. Yao had been unable to contact Yong Soo, though that hadn't come as a shock. When his little brother actively avoided him, well, there wasn't much he could do, but wait.

Yong Soo's avoidance was probably for the best – as much as Yao was confused by the action. This wasn't the first time he had angered his little brother. But what had he done to anger him this time?

There was a reason – a real reason – as to why he had sent his brothers and sisters away from the Imperium. Yet even here, so very far away from home, it seemed that his family wasn't any safer.

"What building is this?" Yao asked.

"Healers," Arthur clicked his tongue. "Clever bastards."

Yao nodded in agreeance. "Was there an illness around when the missing where being reported?"

Francis answered. "If there was it wasn't documented."

"Typical humans," Arthur scoffed. Francis looked at him softly but didn't respond.

They had tried acting inconspicuous, they really had, but the alienage was a virtual ghost town. No sooner had the light of the sun disappeared that people began closing shop and fleeing to the safety of their homes. When they had entered the alienage the only other life they had seen were the guards patrolling the area. No elves save for Arthur walked the streets.

"Two humans and an elf," Yao muttered as he watched Francis work. "Nothing like blending in."

Francis smiled up at him, lock pick in hand. "We'd stand out either way. Me the handsome Orlesian, you the exotic beauty," he twisted the pick and gently smiled as he heard a dull click, "and him," he jabbed a thumb back to Arthur, "the disgruntled Dalish." He turned back, a wide smile as he eyed Arthur. "Now, let's go."

Francis walked before Yao, shield and sword drawn. Light thuds filling the silence with each step of his iron-clad boots. Yao entered much more subtly, not even disturbing the dust that Francis had managed to leave behind. Arthur followed suit and, unlike Yao, he was also physically armed.

It was an old wooden staff. Impressions of where previous owners had wielded the staff imbedded its body. Rows of sigils glowed dimly at the top. The markings matching no language Yao knew of.

Possibly a Dalish heirloom, Yao mused. It would explain the numerous grooves on the body of the staff. It seemed to radiate a power all its own.

Yao looked down at his bare hands. Staffs were good for two things: enhancing ones strength, and giving a mage a focus. Which was why so many mages wielded staffs. Focus was not a skill so easily learned.

Even he sometimes struggled with it.

But it was a skill that he needed to master. Creatures from the Fade were instinctively attracted to him. The spirit entity that watched over him was proof of that. If he hadn't learned how to wield his power – control his very being – well, Yao had no doubt that he would not be there, in Ferelden.

Yao pushed a gust of power to his eyes, his body pulsing at the surge of magic. Francis stopped, looking over his shoulder at Yao. "They're mages. Unless they are very well trained I doubt they will notice my presence," Yao assured.

It may have been the darkness of the healer's building, but Francis' gaze looked harsh. "Tone it down," he said as his attention was directed back towards the room. "You look like you're on the verge of possession."

The rooms were dusty, desks and beds obviously seeing better days. Grime clung to the panels of the windows, the rust-laden latches keeping the windows shut more out of force than choice.

Yao shook his head as he looked over the medical cabinet. Jars lined the shelves: elf root, salves, and poultices, he reached for a nameless jar. "Lyrium potion?" It wasn't labeled, but there was no mistaking the luminescent blue glow within.

A soft intake of breath made him look back, Arthur's green eyes greeting his own. When had he gotten so close? "Why would they have lyrium potions here? I highly doubt that they had actual mage healers here. Humans wouldn't care enough to send a healer."

"So then it was actually for them. The slavers," Francis clarified.

Yao nodded. "So it would seem."

He placed down the jar, his gaze slowly taking in every minute detail on the medical cabinet. If the slavers had been so brazen as to leave something this important out in plain view, then what else could they have let out carelessly? Yao's amber gaze trailed along each scratch on the subpar wood and thick layers of dust lining the shelf. A few jars held light scuff marks, the more heavily used jars were littered with smudge marks.

Yao crouched down, randomly grabbing a jar from the bottom left shelf. Fine dust coated the jar, clinging to his bare skin. His magic infused eyes took in every detail, no matter how minuscule. He looked intently at the dust on his skin, finding dirt, skin, hair, bugs… feces. Yao abruptly placed the jar down, wiping his hand against his leg.

The abrupt placement was too much for the old shelf, vials shifting and tittering on one another. Yao reached out too late, but Arthur who had stayed near him, caught the only vial to fall. "Careful!" Arthur hissed.

"Good catch."

Arthur scowled at the remark. He stood back up bringing the vial closer to his eyes. "What is this?"

Yao crouched lower, moving the larger jars in front. In the back more vials stood, the area surrounding them clearly cleaner than the rest of the shelves. He stood once Arthur backed away from him.

"Here," Arthur said as he handed the vial to Yao. "Look familiar?"

Yao looked at him quizzically. "Should it?"

"You're the one from Tevinter."

"No. It doesn't look familiar," Yao bit back. He looked down at the vial, an eerily yellow liquid filled the vial to the brim, fine crystals floating in the concoction. "I see bits of elf root, and some red flowers clinging to the bottom… probably embrium."He looked at the mixture contemplatively. "It looks like a drought of elfroot, but…" his eyes glowed deeper as he shook the vial, but the mixture didn't budge. Yao looked at it carefully, weighing the odds of uncorking it. In the end, his curiosity won. "You should move," he advised Arthur.

"If you think it's dangerous, then I should stay where I am." At Yao's look of confusion he added, "Can't have your empire claiming that I didn't try to help you in case something does happen. I won't be blamed for your death."

Yao looked at him, before shaking his head in disbelief. He uncorked the vial, taking an appraising sniff. He pulled away immediately, the magic in his eyes draining away at once. "Deathroot. Not enough to be lethal, but it's definitely there." Yao pinched the bridge to his nose. "Maker, there's not even enough to be noticeable unless you're really looking."

It made sense. How else would these slavers be able to transport so many captives? Elves weren't known for their docility. The vial in his hand was the only clean object in the cabinet – probably the only clean object in the whole building. Clean because it was the only potion that any of the elves were being given. "They used this – this poison in the name of healing," Yao said disdainfully. "The deathroot was there to cause hallucinations and the elfroot was to ensure that none were wiser to what it was they were actually ingesting. It would weaken them, make them see things that weren't there, give the slavers a reason to keep otherwise healthy elves overnight."

Yao griped the vial tightly. It shouldn't have surprised him. If anything it was something that he should have assumed they were doing – using potions and tonics to weaken their captives. But to disguise themselves as healers in their ruse… it was an insult. One that he took personal.

Francis looked at Yao, confusion laced in his voice, "They're poisoning the elves?" He shook his head, blue gaze back to scanning the room. "And here I thought they wanted healthy elves."

"It's not enough to cause permanent damage. Just enough to subdue."

"You sound surprised," came Arthur's voice. "Did you really expect the slavers to act otherwise? All of this is nothing more than business to them," he said simply, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. "They're not above abduction and using drugs and certainly not above using blood magic. And here I thought that if anyone of us should understand this, it would be you."

Yao bristled at the remark, eyes narrowing at Arthur. The elf simply rubbed him the wrong way. Everything about him aggravated Yao, yet nothing set his blood boiling more than the moment Arthur would open his mouth. Yes, the Tevinter Imperium had its share of problems.

But it was not the only one.

He clenched his hand, pushing his anger back until it was manageable once again. Only fools couldn't control their tongue. And Yao knew that to be the truth – he'd seen countless Magisters prove it. "Tevinter isn't the only nation that has trouble with equality," Yao began. "Look where we are. This is an alienage – a haven for elves. From humans. The Imperium may have slavery, but we don't hide behind a mask about it. You speak of equality when Ferelden, Orlais, Antiva, all these nations have a need for alienages." As an afterthought Yao added, "Is this really an appropriate place to be having this discussion?"

"I agree. Arthur, as much as I love seeing you get worked up this isn't the place or time. You can have this pissing match later. Preferably when there are no hostages and mages to worry about." At Francis' words, Arthur flushed in indignation. "Besides," Francis said as he walked further into the next room, "the Grey Wardens are the only group known for true equality." He looked back over his shoulder at Yao and winked.

Arthur muttered a few choice words at Francis' retreating form, a string of Elvish filling the air as he followed Francis. Somehow it wasn't much of a surprise to Yao that the two bickered. Arthur may be Dalish but he was still from Ferelden, and both Orlais and Ferelden had a none- too-subtle hatred for one another.

All three wasted no time scouring the first floor, finding overly-worn cots and thick sprigs of elfroot hanging from the walls. Bowels of dried medicinal herbs laid about tables, no doubt at one point actually being used for their intended purposes. Nothing looked amiss, that is, except for one thing: where were the elves?

They met before the stairs, Francis taking the first steps to the second floor, hand hovering over the hilt of his sword. Despite the carefree smile he wore, there was a hard edge to his eyes. Yao clicked his tongue lightly, the taint of corruption clinging to the air. Yao reached within, a shiver passing through his veins, as he griped at the tangle of raw energy within himself. His fingers tingled as magic pulsed within his palms.

Yao slowed his pace, his back burning as he felt Arthur's gaze locked intently onto himself. And, despite himself, Yao looked back over his shoulder. He had dealt with people like Arthur before. Those who lumped him with every vagrant and criminal that came out of Tevinter. He was used to it. But something about this particular elf judging him had his anger seething.

And he didn't understand why.

The second floor was a single large room with one door, and just liked the first floor it was lined with herbal medicines and cots. The door to the north of the stairs had clearly seen better days.

"Be careful," Francis breathed out, walking towards the door.

"If anyone should be offering that advice it should be me," Arthur bit back.

Francis waved off the comment, slowly creeping towards the closed door. He entered the room with his silver shield out before him, a sharp intake of breath the only warning before the door slammed shut of its accord. The noise harsher than it should have been.

Arthur rushed past Yao, forcefully turning the knob. "Francis!" he called out, slamming his fist against the door as the energy in the air shifted. The door didn't so much as rattle at his attack.

There was a tightness in the air, one that prickled against Yao's flesh, his fingers twitched at the feel, magic flowing much more loosely in his palms. It didn't take a genius to know that whatever Francis was facing was a dangerous enough opponent that it was forcing him to use his Templar skills.

The scent of fresh, tangy copper had Yao acting on instinct. A mass of swirling energy gathering in his palms, pulsing as Yao outstretched his hand, small spikes of lightning cackling from the palm of his hand to his fingers. Just as his fingers hovered over the wooden door he stopped, something in the back of his mind nagging him.

Something wasn't right.

Yao spun around, thrusting his right arm out, a solid mass greeting the lightning strike from Yao's open palm. The demon flew back from Yao, the stench of scorched flesh filling the room as the demon slowly recovered. "He'll be fine, Arthur." Yao didn't turn around, his gaze firmly on the monstrosity already gliding back towards him. "He has training as a Templar. We should give him some credit."

Yao felt more than heard Arthur turn away from him, the hair at the back of Yao's neck stood as Arthur cursed. "There are more," Arthur hissed, gripping his staff as he ran off towards the other end of the room. Yao looked at the creature before him, pushing more magic then he generally would into his attack. The air in the room filled with static, a quiet cackle of lightning flickered from Yao's fingers.

The room shook as elvish shouts filled the air.

Calm and collected, Yao stood. Sparks branching away from his prone form.

Yao watched the creature keenly, its slimy, ebony body hunched over itself, muscular arms much longer than its body, its legs covered in a fog of venomous plumes of violet. The very ground groaned beneath the creatures mass, the wooden planks threatening to give way.

"A Shade," Yao whispered.

A creature of the Fade. A demon. What had happened here? How had the veil become thin here?

oOo

Fade: Known by the Dalish as the Beyond, it is a metaphysical realm that is part of Thedas yet separated by the Veil. Every living being, with the exception of dwarves, enters the Fade mentally when they dream and mages tap into it when they cast spells. Most people do not remember their time in the Fade, but mages are forced to recall. Killing a mortal dreaming in the Fade is a shock to their living bodies, but not lethal. The person merely wakes up. Demons and spirits reside in the Fade.

Veil: A metaphysical barrier between the mortal realm and the Fade. Neither spirits nor mortal beings can easily pass physically through the Veil, but the consciousness of mortal dreamers easily does so. The Veil is not an object; it cannot be touched or seen. It is a metaphor used by mortal scholars to explain the interactions between the two different realities.

oOo

Places like this, Yao knew them well. Tevinter was burdened with them. Battlefields, valleys, whole villages, and cities left abandoned. Unlivable due to their corruption.

Demons dwelled there. And what remained of slain mortals. Their hatred fueling their rage, warping their souls until they resembled nothing of their former selves. In the end they were no different than a demon.

The shade snarled, its long, armored arms pushed to its side as it disappeared in a cloud of fumes. In the blink of an eye Yao pressed his open palms out, a blast of electricized energy dancing around Yao, forming a shield around his form just as a snarl reverberated off his barrier. It pushed itself back, black ooze dripping from what Yao ventured were its mangled lips.

It stared Yao down before lunging forward, its large arms falling with bone-crunching strength as it attacked the barrier. With each swipe fragments formed on the translucent barrier.

Yao stepped back, with each step he eyed the demon down. Its feral gaze was one that Yao had faced before. It was one that he absolutely loathed.

This type of demon knew nothing but a craving of flesh. It lived for no other reason than to harm, its hunger insatiable. Its need for the lives of others pushing it on. Catching living, breathing men and women and children with illusions until they were too far gone to save themselves. These demons had taken so many. Making orphans of those who had survived, hidden away by their loved ones. Saved and abandoned all at once.

Just like Kiku and Yong Soo. And he would be damned if he would be the one to cause Yong Soo to relive that pain.

His hand was held out firmly before him, veins visible on Yao's outstretched hand and arm as he pulled against the wall to his left, a great deal of magic gathering around the wall. The barrier fell and the demon glided forth, eyes glimmering as they beckoned Yao to believe its sweeten-laden illusions.

It reached out, ooze dripping from it curled fist, as the building shook.

A large slab of stone flew towards the looming demon, pinning the creature against the wall.

Save but for the spluttered snarls and scraping of nails, silence was all Yao could hear. The creature's arms clawed at the stone, chunks breaking off with its every attempt at freedom.

A quiet rage gripped Yao, and for a second – just a second he saw red.

Yao reached out, his hold on the chunk of stone still tight, and with a swipe of his arm the demon cried in anguish. An audible snap rang across the room as a heavy thump followed. Blood, like oil, spilled from where its arm had once been. Its blood bubbled as it spilled, the scent of decay polluting the stagnant air.

"This," Yao hissed, "is all that awaits you here. You will pay for every family you have torn apart, every life you have robbed. I'll see to it, demon."

Yao put pressure on the stone, a pulse of magic so strong it tore not only the demon's remaining arm, but the wall behind the demon's very back.

"Watch what you're doing!" Arthur shouted, staff glowing. "You'll take down the whole bloody building!"

Yao nodded, though he knew that more than likely Arthur would be unable to see it. He stalked towards the demon, its viscous like blood clinging to his boots as if to immobilize him.

"Your kind have no future here. Not in Ferelden and certainly not in Tevinter," Yao hissed as he raised his hand. His hand shook with what he could only assume was rage. Raw and terrifying, an intangible pulse of sheer fury – a feeling that had become so foreign to him.

And he embraced it.

Yao swiped his hand forward. A sickening pop filled the room as the stone was pressed tightly against the demon. It was not a cry of anguish that left the creature's lips, nor a roar of defeat. It was a gurgling of blood, the demons lungs filled with nothing else but its own fluids. The sound brought back bitter memories.

All at once Yao regretted acting on his anger.

A bitter loathing – or was it disgust? – descended on him. He released his hold on the stone, turning away from what remained of the creature. A slow throb of pain, one that he knew all too well, pulled at his attention.

He fought the itch to rub his back. It was old, but it would always be a fresh, gaping wound to him. It was a betrayal that could not be forgotten in this life, and one that could never be forgiven. Time did not heal all wounds.

Yao turned to Arthur, slightly perturbed to find that the elf had been watching him. The demon stood rigid in front of Arthur, thick vines wrapped around its prone form, blood pooling around the ground, as if nourishing the very carnivores-plant that had led to its death.

Yao met Arthur's gaze for a second before the elf turned away, walking towards the door that housed the other Warden.

"Francis," he called out, indecisiveness clear in his stance. Though, Yao noted, there was an uneasiness in his tone. "I know you are incompetent in many things, but I was under the belief that demons were something even you could handle." Arthur paused, visible hesitation replacing the permanent scowl he always seemed to wear. "Or is this how all Orlesians act? All bravado and talk?"

It was laughter, though muddled, that broke the silence. The door opened slowly, revealing Francis in all his living glory. "Now, now, Arthur. There's no need for that. I just found something much more interesting in here." Francis motioned behind him, red blood coating his once pristine armor and hair. "Though nothing holds my interest more than you. Surely you know that by now."

"I take it wasn't a demon you found?" Yao interjected, hoping to leave the room as quickly as possible. The once dull ache was truly trying his patience.

Francis nodded. "It seems we have might have more abominations to contend with as well." All traces of laughter and flirtatious smiles were gone. "She didn't want to talk, but Templars have ways of getting what they need. They left her and another person behind. She said that the other mage is in the basement. She changed into an abomination before I could get any more information."

oOo

Abomination: Regardless of the reason, a demon always attempts to possess a mage when it encounters one—by force or by making some kind of deal depending on the strength of the mage. Should the demon get the upper hand, the result is an unholy union known as an abomination.

oOo

"So they just got the elves and left?" Arthur questioned.

Francis crossed his arms. "Not all of them."

Silence followed the remark, broken only by Arthur's voice. "Then where are they?"

"The other mage," Yao said plainly, his right hand twitching. "They're with the other mage. If they knew we were coming than he has them."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Sacrifices," he breathed out.

No one said a thing. What could be said of the truth?

Francis sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, blood coating his gloved hand. He looked about the room, his gaze lingering much longer on the demon Yao had slain. Though that wasn't much of a surprise. Yao knew that his method had been messy, he had even prolonged the fight to inflict more pain. He knew what it looked like.

It looked personal.

He rubbed his back.

"We should look for the other mage," Yao offered. Francis nodded, though he looked at Yao openly before walking downstairs, curses filling the air as he picked remnants of the abomination from his hair. Well, there wasn't a need for stealth; the other slaver knew they were there, after all. Arthur looked at Yao's hand, his heavy gaze burrowing into Yao's back, but if he suspected something he said nothing. Instead he followed Francis' lead.

Yao's hand lingered on his back just a second more, before he too followed.

They started down the basement together, the air growing colder as they went. The walls lacked stone, and every so often Yao would see indentations of hands on the clay wall. The air smelled of mildew and rot. With each step Yao became increasingly aware of just how loud their breathing and movements sounded in the oppressive silence.

The stairway ended at an old door.

They stood before the remaining door, Francis reached for the knob, but Yao placed his hand on top of Francis. "I believe it would be best if I proceed first."

Though it seemed Francis wanted to argue against Yao's choice he nodded nonetheless. He glanced from the door to Yao and backed away. "Well," he began. "I suppose this will finally allow me to see this power of yours." He smiled. "The one that I should be fearful of."

Strings of spells fell from Yao's lips, various protection spells wrapping about Yao's form. He had faced abominations and blood mages before. Not all fights were easy. They seldom were when they involved something so unnatural. Blood mages could never be trusted.

Not even when they smiled and called themselves your brother.

Yao rested his hand against the door. "Do not act until I say." He opened the door, and the familiar stench of sickly-sweet blood filled the air.

"I am Yao Wang, Healer of the Court of the Tevinter Imperium. Your presence is an act of aggression against Ferelden. Lay down your weapons and state your intentions."

"What are you doing?" Francis interjected. "A scolding isn't going to do a thing!"

Unperturbed, Yao continued. "If you fail to comply, we shall have no choice but to use deadly force. I shall give you only one chance," he paused. "Surrender now."

The solidified spear of ice that flew past Yao came as no surprise. He hadn't actually expected a verbal response. Amber eyes flicked from the embedded shard of ice back to the room. "So be it."

Yao entered the room and when no sounds of chaos where heard, Francis and Arthur ventured in themselves. The smell of waste and unwashed bodies rolled out of the room.

Thrown about the floor laid half a dozen elves. The slow rise of their chest was the only indication that they lived. They wore steel cuffs far too tight on their skin. Their clothing had been torn and was covered in a number of splotches. What skin that showed was marred in bruises and filth.

Arthur's gasp had Yao turning to look at what had surprised him.

Children.

Two children who looked sick, buried beneath a number of other bodies. This mage was going to pay. Someone was going to answer for this. Even monsters had to draw a line somewhere.

Yao felt his hand shaking in rage, and forced himself to push it aside and focus. But one look at an unconscious face had Yao's blood running cold. Panic replaced his rage.

Yao felt Francis' gaze linger on him, and he thanked the Maker that he had practiced his mask of cool indifference down to a skill because it wasn't the blood mage who had him in a panic. It was the single human among the elves that had him rooted. The human that lay heavily on the floor.

Motionless.

Francis nudged him on his side. "The elves."

Yao nodded, the words not truly registering. Yes. The elves. He was there for the elves. But Yong Soo was not an elf… and he was not moving.

Rage. A slow burning rage that had been ingrained into him as a child overtook him. "Release them," Yao snarled, right arm extended as his gaze ripped away from the prone form of his young brother to the one who had harmed him.

The man eyed Yao down, a gleam in his dark blue eyes as he smiled knowingly at Yao. He wore a dark red cloak loosely, the garment giving the effect of spilled blood. Thick black gloves covered his hands, a simple silver bracer on either arm. His brown hair was pulled back in a tight braid that fell over his right shoulder.

The slaver laughed, light wrinkles forming on tan skin, his gaze cruel as he walked the short few steps towards the unconscious elves. They made no movement. Not the elves. Not Yong Soo. "You shouldn't worry about them. I do hate when they are too… rambunctious." He grinned playfully. "Do you like them? I left them behind just for you."

Yao hardened his gaze. "For me?"

His blue eyes glimmered. "Yes." The man smiled, grin far too wide. "The Healer of the Court. The Archon's valued advisor. Imagine my surprise when I heard that you would be visiting Denerim. I couldn't very well miss my chance to meet such a highly esteemed individual."

"And you are?"

"Ah," he waived his hand dismissively, "unnecessary details." He tilted his head, lips pursed thoughtfully. "I've heard so much about you. Though I must admit that you exceed my expectations. So rarely does one live up to their fame."

"Then you must know how I feel about your kind." Ire and contempt rang in every word. "To sell children… I suppose that's why they call your kind monsters."

"Oh," he smiled largely, teeth exposed. "I know exactly how you feel about my kind." He leaned forward slightly, gaze never wavering from Yao. "And so did Kiku."

"Don't you dare," lightning cackled, "utter that name again."

"Ah, yes, of course." His laughed arrogantly. "My condolences on his passing." Yao clenched his fist. "Though I'm certain it's not his death you're angry about. You certainly didn't raise an objection when his execution was ordered." He paused, watching Yao intently. "You even took it upon yourself to end his life. Your own brother." He tsked. "You speak of unforgivable actions, crimes against the natural order, but your crime is no different. You betrayed your brother. You turned against a child. You turned against the natural instinct to protect your own. Should your crime go unpunished?"

"I carried out the duty that was given to me. No one, not even family, is exempt from justice. He knew that," Yao said, voice devoid of emotion.

The slaver shook his head, amusement evident in his voice. "Ever the loyal subject. Now I see why the Archon sent you. Tell me, did you impress their King? He must have been pleased to see the Archons obedient mutt. Did you beg for him? Roll over and bare your throat?"

A raging gust of wind rushing past him had Yao glancing to the elf at his side. With a simple flick of his hand the slaver had the raging wind dissipate before him.

"Do you enjoy hearing your own voice?" Arthur asked, annoyance laced in each word. "I don't know – or care, for that matter – about whatever petty hatred you have for this one," he nodded towards Yao. "I did not come here for that. I came for them."

"For them?" the slaver repeated, glancing at the still elves. He laughed, eyes crinkled like half-moons as he brought his attention back to Arthur's scowling face. "You misunderstand, elf." His gaze moved leisurely from Arthur to Yao. "Just like you, I have a duty. And I, too, intend to follow it."

Yao inhaled and an elf was before the slaver, a dagger pressed effortlessly into unresponsive flesh, blood spilling as Yao exhaled. It had only taken a few seconds. A life was ended in what little time it had taken Yao to breathe.

Lightning flew towards the slaver, yet he stood motionless, a pleased expression on his face as he welcomed the attack.

"Is that all?" He asked with a deep gratified sigh, standing unscathed. The same, Yao noted, could not be said for the elf that had been carelessly dropped to the floor by the slaver. Lightning crawled about her prone form, her body contorted grotesquely from the attack.

Yao's hands fell to his side as Arthur charged past him, immediately jumping back, staff glowing red as he held it overhead, deflecting flames.

"It would be in your best interest to keep your elf back, Healer."

"Arthur…"

"No," Arthur pushed Francis' hand away. "Do you want me to stay back and do nothing? Let him kill another? She had every right to live." He looked at the slaver with an unnatural stillness, his mouth twisted. "That elf could have been my brother. And you want me to wait?"

Francis breathing hitched for a second, a pained look in his usual boisterous face. "You," Francis growled, taking a heavy step towards the slaver, "do not get to hurt those I care about."

Francis bore down on the slaver, quickly closing the distance between them in a few strides. Each strike was met with barrier after barrier, the slaver's smile growing with each attack.

The slaver sidestepped a rather heavy blow, hands glowing bright as Francis recovered. Orbs of intense yellow light flew towards Francis, who deflected each with a bash against his shield.

A glimmer of satisfaction was the only warning Francis received before a table rammed into his side, body violently thrown against the wall.

Arthur looked from Francis form to the one who had injured him, stepping towards the slaver only to step back. Yao had no such qualms, veins prominent on his skin, as he waved his hand down. Air sliced through the room, meeting the slaver's flames.

Yao stepped back, eyes widening as the flames grew, overtaking his attack and growing. At once he raised a barrier - glancing back to know for certain that Arthur was protected as well.

Flame cascaded around them and, despite the barrier, Yao could feel the heat from the attack. Eyes watering, he turned his head back to Arthur. The elf seemed to be faring just the same. He inched towards Yao slowly, eyes squinted tightly. Yao's back pressed against Arthur, another blast of scorching flames pushing against the barrier.

"It's the blood," Yao said, nose wrinkling in disgust. "These types of flames shouldn't be this strong." He looked back at the flames, brows drawn together as the flames fell from the barrier, encircling both Arthur and himself.

"How many do you think he sacrificed? This bloody bastard is going to regret ever stepping foot in this alienage. " Even surrounded by flames Yao could feel the iciness radiating from each word. "We're surrounded in flames. And he has a handful of elves out there with him."

Flames licked at the barrier, tendrils reaching towards them. The slaver had stopped his barrage, instead he watched Yao with a gleam in his eyes. Still, Yao kept the barrier up, his jaw set.

"You're not a fair man are you, Healer?" The slaver asked, shaking his head in disappointment. "It would seem that you don't live up to all your fame." He clasped his hands, posture relaxed as he watched the flames lick hungrily against the barrier. "Why don't we make this more… fun," he said loudly, voice full of bluster.

The barrier dropped once the words left the slavers lips. Air wrapped around Yao's form as he took a step forward, hair whipping around wildly as Yao exhaled. Flames fought wildly to remain alight around the pair - Arthur cursed as he dug his staff into the ground, fighting against the heavy gust of wind pushing him towards the flickering flames.

Yao's lips pressed flat as he watched the way the slaver looked from the elves to his own hand, a smile growing as he met Yao's gaze.

"Fun," he mouthed silently, as blood poured from the open self-inflicted wound on his palm.

Yao was out of the circle of flames the moment he realized what was happening. Flames burned at his clothes, his skin, and his hair, yet it all went unnoticed. He couldn't allow this.

But he had.

Yao shivered as he heard the sweet calls of the siren, skin crawling in disgust. "A desire demon." Yao planted his feet wide apart, eyes narrowing at the sickly lustful gaze of the full-figured creature. It floated in the air with ease, lavender flesh exposed shamelessly, safe for a simple deep-ruby loin cloth that hung from its hips suggestively. An intricate golden necklace adorned its long, slender neck, two chains fell away from the necklace, connecting to two golden tassels that adorned its full breast.

Horns hung where its eyebrows should be, magenta eyes glowing hypnotically. "I know your tricks," Yao said evenly. "Don't believe that you can tempt me, demon."

"She won't," the slaver said, stepping before the demon. His dark blue eyes flicked to Arthur and Francis pointedly. "I brought her for your friends."

The demon disappeared, its laughter ringing in the air as it reappeared in front of a sluggish Francis. Yao took a step towards Francis, a shard of ice stopping him.

"Ah," the slaver said disapprovingly, shaking his head. "I have waited a very long time to meet you. I won't have your friends interrupting this." He paced before Yao, chin up as he observed him. "I'm honestly surprised that you've been able to hold your position for so long," he said at last. "Anyone with an ounce of sense could tell the difference between you and I, and yet all these Fereldaners see when presented by a Tevinter mage is the same. Fear and loathing.

"Do you know what it is I see when I look at you? A coward," he snarled. "You have power and fear using it. I have no such qualms."

"You are not using the power you've been given. It's using you."

"See?" He smiled. "Another difference. Using me? I am using it. This power is going to make the world right."

"Right?" Yao narrowed his eyes. "So that gives you the right to kidnap? To Murder?"

"Necessary sacrifices."

Yao's stomach lurched, a chill passing through him. It was the way the slaver had said it, so matter-of-factly, so calmly, so damn sure of himself.

There was nothing more dangerous than a man who could see no fault in his actions. Every death was justifiable. Every atrocity forgivable. There was no doubt in him. His way was right. Only madmen and fools could know such certainty. And this slaver struck him as no fool.

Yao looked at the slaver, and it was some time before he spoke in a quiet voice. "Their deaths are not necessary. No wondrous world can be built on that belief. Look at the empire – at our home. We've had war waged on us because men like you only see slaves. Expendable lives." Outside the air cackled with thunder. "I don't like what you are. What you represent. The power you were given is using you."

"You say that, but any man with an ounce of sense can see why this is bullshit. Our glorious Imperium was founded on blood magic. Nations bowed to us. We were feared." His mouth twisted, a sour expression growing. "Look what your dismissal of such a potent power has done to us. Outside its walls Tevinter is mocked. The people of Thedas no longer cower at our name. Oh, no, instead they wait for our demise. Blood magic is our future. We were founded on it, and we will prosper with it. Your brother understood that."

"Is this what prosperity looks like to you? You are taking the freedom from those you have no right to. Taking them from their homes, their families. And for what? So that men like you can use them as they please?" Yao's eye's darkened and anger touched his voice. It was a cold thing that lined his words in frost. "If my brother thought as you do, than he deserved his death."

"Is that right?" The slaver kept his eyes on Yao, hands clenching at his side. "It seems that your love is conditional, Healer. Had he been my brother I would have protected him until the end."

"I did protect him." Yao's fingertips tingled. "I protected him from a harsher fate. The senate would have ordered a public execution. They would have drawn out his pain. I choose to end it with my own hands, were the only people present were him and me. Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones, but you still have to choose." The air buzzed around Yao. "I stand by my choice."

He was so young. A little thing just sitting there in the woods. Eyes so large and innocent. Was he lost?

"And now we face the consequences."

A young boy stood where the toddler once sat. So quiet and reserved, eyes no longer inquisitive. No longer in awe of his older brother.

The slaver dashed forward, only to be pushed back by a pulse of raw energy emanating from Yao.

Yao looked at the empty room, ears still ringing from the quiet declaration.

"Merde! Don't forget you have allies here!" Francis shouted, as he narrowly avoided the attack.

'You are not my brother.'

Yao stalked towards the slaver, face eerily blank as he raised his right hand before him - the slaver rose from the ground – and swung his hand down. Hard.

The slaver hit the ground with a loud crunch, the ground splintering around his form. He smiled as he rose from the ground, blood running down his face. He flicked his left hand before himself, a gust of air doing little more than pushing against Yao.

Yao launched himself towards the slaver, a strong gust propelling him forward.

The slaver jumped back, deflecting a volley of lightning. Fire erupted from the slavers hand, a long tongue of fire reaching for Yao and, had it not been for Yao's barrier, it would have hit him.

Yao swung his hand heavily in front of him – two chairs flew across the room. It would do no harm, but Yao needed a distraction.

With his right hand outstretched Yao loomed over the slaver, veins protruding as lightning wrapped itself tightly against Yao's hand, the element melding against his flesh, solidifying into an intricate blade. Yao grasped the golden hilt tightly, the blade cackled in his grasp, each edge of the bolt like sword sharp.

Thunder clashed with each strike, every hit meeting resistance from the slaver. Still Yao bore down, eyes flashing as a gale of wind struck the slaver from the side. The slaver dropped the barrier, eyes wide. Yao jumped forward, blade high in the air as he prepared to strike.

"Arthur that is not your brother!"

Yao's face turned ashen at the shout, body stilling. He turned jarringly towards Francis, muscles rigid as he watched Arthur stand before the injured demon.

Protecting it.

"Don't you dare lay a finger on him," Arthur growled out, baring his teeth. "I have spent this life searching for him. I will not lose him again. Not to slavers… and not to you."

"Abelas, Arthur," the creature whispered, grin growing as Arthur shook in rage, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Ma halam. Ar tu na'di –"

Yao stumbled back, sword dispersing, as he cradled his face, momentarily stunned by the hard punch. "Am I boring you, Healer?" A ghost of a smile graced his face. "Here, let me liven things up. This," his eyes burned bright, "is what power men can wield when they do not fear."

The floor shook beneath Yao, a ringing in his ears as he fought for balance. He grunted with effort, every limb a burden to move. As the floorboards groaned beneath him Yao gritted his teeth, breathing shallow and labored as pressure grew all around him.

With narrowed eyes and a tight mouth Yao fought against the pressure, his chest tightening as he attacked, gales of wind shooting after the slaver, lightning trailing after the wind.

The slaver smiled, amusement growing with each deflection. Yao growled as he clenched his fist, it cackled once before his fist connected against the ground. The wooden floor splintered as lightning tore through the old floorboards, an electric wave rushing towards the slaver.

The sudden release of pressure had Yao dashing forward, hands glowing incandescent white as energy gathered in his fist. The slaver met him head on, flames pulsing in his own hands. They blocked one another's attacks, neither relenting.

It was… strange. The way the slaver moved, it was familiar. Yao felt his eyes darken as he lost his focus. This was the way Kiku had fought. It wasn't as refined, but it was definitely Kiku's technique. Yao hissed as he stepped back, cheek singed and throbbing. The slaver sneered as he looked down at Yao. "Familiar, isn't it?" His eyes locked onto Yao's own, mockery dancing in their depths.

Yao's eyes widened as he advanced at the slaver, air thrumming with energy as he dealt punch after punch, all precautions thrown away. The smell of charred flesh and sweat filled the air between them. The slaver laughed, the sound rough.

He met Yao's gaze and his laughter only intensified. Yao held back, fist poised to strike as he looked on in confusion. The slaver's eyes twinkled in madness, eyes dilated to the point that his eyes looked entirely black. Yao's skin tingled at the probing look.

Yao shook his head, the action sluggish, he raised his hand to his face, only to find that it, too, was slow to respond.

"Surprised, aren't you?" Yao's gaze shot to the slaver, mouth unresponsive. "This is the power of blood magic, Healer. What is the worth of a few slaves for power like this?" He loomed over Yao, his gaze slowly raking over his prone form. "Smile."

And Maker he did.

It was wrong. The way his lips shifted, the feel of the smile on his face, it was too wide, too fake. And Yao couldn't wipe it from his face.

"It seems your companions are struggling with my friend." The Slaver glanced behind Yao. "What a pity. Who would have guessed that a Templar would fear injuring an elf." He furrowed his brow. "How about you help them? You don't mind sacrificing one thing if it means preserving another." He pulled a dagger from his belt. "All for the greater good, right?"

He extended the dagger to Yao, and gently said, "Take the knife."

Yao tried to shake his head, his skin clammy as a cold, sunken despair settled in the pit of his stomach. He tried to scream, tried to pull his arm back, but the only movement was a slight twitch of his fingers.

"I wonder… what demon will your blood call?"

'Your blood.'

Yao's back ached. It burned. Every nerve ending was screaming for him to stop. STOP.

'I need your strength, your power... your blood, brother.'

No. Yao breathed in raspy breaths, eyes squeezed shut as he fought against the slavers mental hold. NO.

The air around Yao buzzed, and he knew at once that it was the spirit of the Fade that followed him, but even the spirit was unable to break the hold.

oOo

Fade: Known by the Dalish as the Beyond, it is a metaphysical realm that is part of Thedas yet separated by the Veil. Every living being, with the exception of dwarves, enters the Fade mentally when they dream and mages tap into it when they cast spells. Demons and spirits reside in the Fade.

Spirit: A natural inhabitant of the Fade.

oOo

He had to calm down. This wasn't Kiku. He had his share of mental attacks before. He just had to calm down. Yao closed his eyes and forced himself to focus. Magic was not intended for this. Magic was a force of life, of good, it was meant to preserve and protect. And the people who wielded it had a responsibility to use it as it was intended.

Yao couldn't allow this man to do more harm.

Yao smacked the dagger away, eyes shining bright as his body shook with electric energy. The slaver wasn't even able to utter a gasp of surprise before his body was thrown against the wall, an invisible pressure pressing against his body.

A bone-crushing snap rang in the air as the slaver cried out in anguish, a mix of saliva and blood spilling from his lips. Slowly Yao stalked towards him, his hand resting over the slavers heart. "This isn't the Tevinter Imperium. Your crimes here are not for me to judge, despite how much I may want, too." Yao leaned forward, voice laced with disdain. "I don't like you. And I certainly don't care enough for you to abandon beliefs I hold dear." Yao stepped back a fire in his eyes. "I won't cheapen myself for you."

Yao held him against the wall, just enough pressure to keep him from moving, though Yao doubted that the slaver would be able to move anytime soon. Yao stared at him for a long minute.

Slowly Yao glanced over his shoulder finding Francis kneeling beside Arthur. Francis' hand rested on Arthur's shoulder, a pensive expression as he watched the elf collect himself. Arthur's faced was buried in his hands, body shaking with each breath. Deep gashes covered Arthur's arm, the cuts wrapping around his arm, ending at his gloved hand.

Arthur's staff lay forgotten a few feet away, the sigils on the staff glowed a faint blood-red. Near it the body of the demon laid, a gaping wound from its stomach to its heart.

Yao walked to the unconscious elves, resisting the temptation to check on Yong Soo first. He couldn't raise any suspicions. He pulled the two children out from the others, checking for any serious injuries. They were hot, their skin clammy under his hands. Yao pressed his palms against one of the children, healing magic gently entering the child. Almost instantly the child's breathing eased.

"How are they?" Francis asked, standing near Yao.

"They're sick. That drug wasn't made for them, if they had been a bit older they would have been fine." Yao glanced up at Francis. "But we got here in time. They'll be fine. The children and everybody else, too."

Francis nodded his gaze moving from Yao back to Arthur. "Is it true?" He asked shuffling slightly. "What he said about your brother."

Yao was silent as he worked, weaving from one person to the next. "Yes," he said as last. He walked towards Yong Soo, eyes softening as he held his brother's hand. "All of it is true."

"Even about…" he hesitated, "his death?"

"All of it."

"I see." Francis said, a grim twist to his lips. He walked away from Yao, eyes narrowed as he rounded on the slaver.

Yao continued working, listening to the Orlesian mutter threats. Yong Soo snored lightly as Yao cradled his face, healing magic pouring into his flesh. Yao couldn't help but smile at the sound. It had been a trying day.

He ruffled Yong Soo's hair as he stood, smile thinning as he spotted Arthur approaching.

Arthur looked at him with serious eyes. All fear and uncertainty gone from his face. "Will they be well?"

"Eventually. The two children will need more time than the others, but they will all recover." Yao met Arthur's gaze head on. "Eventually everyone will recover," he said, hand outstretched to Arthur. Arthur raised a brow, eyes flicking before the outstretched hand and Yao's face. Yao rolled his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips. "Your arm."

Arthur glanced down, his posture tense as he stepped back. "A healer at the castle can take care of this."

"Or," Yao began, "I can take care of it now." When Arthur still did not move, Yao shifted his weight, arms crossed. He was no fool. The injury was more than physical. The demon had damaged Arthur mentally. And that was something that he understood.

Yao had no doubt that Arthur's arm would plague him just as his own back did him. Arthur's mind would offer him no solace.

After today he knew that Kiku would weigh heavily on his own mind once again. He had failed one brother, and he had almost failed another.

The very least Yao could offer was sympathy.

"Arthur, even if we don't understand each other that is no reason to reject one another. You are injured. Very badly." Yao extended his hand once again. "Let me treat your injury."

Arthur snorted dismissively. "And here I thought that our dislike was mutual."

"It wouldn't be called empathy if you only felt it for those you like." He shook his head, face pensive. "I know what it feels to be lied to by someone you thought was a loved one."

Arthur froze at the words. For a second Yao thought that he would turn and walk away. Instead Arthur stepped forward, a shuddering breathe escaping his lips.

Surprise must have showed on his face because Arthur scowled, cheeks red as he thrust his arm towards Yao.

Neither spoke as Yao spun webs of magic over Arthur's hand, magic interweaving with Arthur's flesh. Some wounds took seconds, but Arthur had quite a few that required a sturdy hand. Yao watched as blood oozed out as he stitched magic into the flesh, beads of blood escaping with each stitch.

"How hard was it? Dealing with your brother's death."

Yao stared at the next wound, brows furrowed. He had opened himself up to this conversation he reminded himself. Magic once again flowed from his fingers. "You think their dying is the worst that can happen." Yao pressed his lips tightly. "Then they stay dead."

"And for the next few weeks every time you fall asleep you dream that everything is the way it used to be. That you killing him was just some sick, horrible joke. So every time you wake it's like that first night all over again, like you're being slammed against a wall every time."

Arthur stared at the ground, eyes bright. "I'm sorry," he said after a time.

"It's fine. I haven't told you what others don't already know."

Arthur simply shook his head, shoulders slumped as he eyed the ground. Yao hummed as he worked, trying to ease the solemn tension in the air. Arthur being docile was… unnerving. Whatever the demon had made him see had obviously affected him.

Arthur's fingers twitched in his hands. "It looked like my brother." Yao paused. Eyes focused intently on the semi-healed wound before him. "He's been missing. Missing for decades." Arthur swallowed. "We've been looking for him, my brother and I. It's been difficult. Through it all I never believed he was dead. Never even considered it.

"Then that bastard," he forced out through gritted teeth, "made me believe that I found him. And just as quick as I find him he's gone." Arthur's voice cracked. "I thought, 'that bastard Francis killed him. My brother.' I couldn't think of anything else but hurting him. He betrayed my trust. He betrayed me." A pained expression spread across Arthur's face. "But he hadn't. That Orlesian bastard didn't even try to raise a hand against me." He squeezed his eyes shut.

A torrent of emotions painted Arthur's face. Anger, shame, guilt, and tremendous sadness. Arthur sucked in a breath which sounded more like a chocked sob. Yao refused to look up. He wasn't meant to see Arthur liked this. As much as he disliked the elf, seeing him fall apart because he thought he saw his brother die… no one should have to experience such a lie.

"Demons are natural manipulators, Arthur."

He laughed humorlessly. "I should have known better."

Yao released his hold on Arthur's arm, long pink scars all that remained of Arthur's injuries. "I won't offer you meaningless words about how things well get better." Yao said as Arthur looked his arm over. "It does not get easier, but it does get less painful. Pain makes us who we are, and it makes us better people if we allow it. What that demon made you see… use that memory to protect what matters with everything you have, or you'll have nothing, and deserve it. Your brother is alive, Arthur." Yao looked down to Yong Soo. "He is alive."