I

"You have some, uh…" Isabela gestured vaguely at his cheek. The gesture got broader and broader until she just went back to fiddling with her belt and avoiding Fenris' murderous gaze.

The elf had taken his helmet off as soon as they'd left the city limits. To say that spider slime covered him would have been an understatement. His hair was plastered to his skull with thick grime, and he felt it soaking his skin under the armour he had to wait to take off. The permanent scowl that had taken residence on his lips was only partially due to spite—the rest of it as an attempt in vain to keep the damned crap out of his mouth.

Isabela held his soaked gauntlets and boots as far from her body as she possibly could, often gagging whenever drops of the stuff hit the side of her thigh. They walked in a silence down the dirt path to the cottage leaving a trail of slime droplets and foot shaped ooze.

"Well," Isabela tried to break the tension for the umpteenth time. Fenris bored holes into the side of her head that she chose to ignore. "At least the princess doesn't seem to hate you."

"Don't."

"I'm just saying, it's an advantage to have royalty backing you—

"Don't."

"And while you weren't, uh, charming, you at least weren't Ser Gilbert." She made a face and shuddered. "I'm not sure what it takes to be a knight of Kirkwall, but they need to raise their standards. I swear the man spends half of his downtime slogging back ale and the other half hitting on poor sweet Norah—" She turned to shoot him a meaningful eyebrow waggle only to find that he'd stopped walking some ways back. He stood rigid on the path on high alert. He glanced over her way with fear spelled out clearly on his face. He drew his weapon silently and motioned for her to come closer.

She didn't get the chance.

The knife was on her throat before she could blink. A gauntlet spikey like Fenris' weaved around her waist to hold her hostage with a loud voice in her hear shouting something in Tevene. Not to be out-manuvered, Isabela slammed her elbow into the man's gut and shoved Fenris' slime covered gauntlets between the knife arm and her neck—spikes first. The man howled and stepped back giving her room to spin into a kick aimed at the man's chest. She threw the boots and gaunlets in Fenris' direction to have room to draw her blades.

The elf only barely had enough time to sling the gauntlets on before he was busy charging into the field where a mage was chanting something and slashing his blade deep into the man's gut. The chants were garbled with screams and gurgling blood. Isabela's daggers found the throat of the rogue just as fast and she wasted no time hurling a smoke bomb at the archer raising her bow behind him.

"Fenris, get down!" She shouted.

He looked back at her with wide eyes, not taking more than a second to hit the ground as fast as he could. An arrow sped through the air where his head had been. She charged over the body of the dead rogue towards the Tevinter archer slashing wildly. The soldier thrashed her bow to block Isabela's blows but could only keep up with her speed for so long. The tip of Isabela's curved dagger found the soft patch of skin beneath chin and neck and shoved upwards through her skull.

The smoke settled around her and Isabela's eyes scanned the dirt path for more soldiers in the ambush party. She spotted Fenris rising above the tall grass again to charge at another rogue who barely had time to take out their daggers before his blade sank into their shoulder and cut downwards with a sickening crunch. He was panting heavily, jerking the sword upward out of the still gagging soldier. Isabela cringed, wiping sweat and dust off her brow with the back of her arm.

"We need to move." Isabela's voice was stern. Fenris was staring at the body in the grass, mouth slightly opened and eyes glazed. He nodded a little but didn't seem to actually register the words. Without warning, he dropped down again. Isabela rushed through the grass, thinking he fainted, only to find him taking the daggers off the dead rogue's hands. He offered them to her. She shook her head. "Not curved enough for my style. Toss'em."

He frowned, but didn't stop unlatching the sheaths from the dead soldier's belt. She shoved at his shoulder irritably. "Did you not hear me? We need to move now."

"We have to get rid of the bodies." His voice was steady, but only barely. He shoved her hand off his shoulder and slung the sheathed daggers in its place. "If someone finds them, it's a clear trail back to the cottage."

"Fuck the cottage!" Isabela snapped. "We're taking the first ship out of town tonight."

"I'm not running again." Fenris growled warningly. Isabela threw her hands up in the air.

"Yeah, it'll be awfully hard to run when you're dead." She glowered at him. With the daggers safely on his shoulder, he sheathed his own blade and stood up to examine the damage.

"Start helping me move the bodies, start digging, or get out of my way."

"Are you insane?" She shouted.

The elf whirled around to face her, fury dancing in his eyes. "You were right about the contest. I can stop running if I win. You get your gold. I can't outrun them like this forever. I won't run from them."

Isabela searched his face desperately, hoping he'd give up the idiotic endeavor. Fenris didn't even flinch. Her eyes fluttered closed with a sigh. She rolled her shoulders a few times and bent down to sling the dead rogue over her shoulders. "At least promise me," she lifted the body with a soft grunt, "that we can get out of town for the night. Just to throw them off your trail for a little bit, yeah?"

He made a noncommittal noise and stalked off to where the dead mage lay.

Dusk was settling in by the time they had brought the bodies back to Ser Vincento's cottage. The damp mud behind the stables made it easy to dig a mass grave. Before covering the bodies, Isabela lit a match and tossed it into the pit. To make them harder to identify, she said, but Fenris suspected it was also just cathartic. He let the flames burn for a few minutes before snuffing it out with a shovel full of dirt. Neither of them spoke a word as he covered up the bodies and smoothed over the surface. Isabela fetched the bottle of wine from the cottage and handed it to him wordlessly. His ears were pressed flat and down making the already harsh line of his brow seem harsher. He took a long pull, knuckles pressed white against the glass. She watched him closely but kept her distance. The daggers he'd taken were still slung over his shoulder.

"For Mora?" She asked gently.

He took another pull before looking at her. She gestured towards the weapons. He looked at the daggers on his shoulders like he didn't quite remember them. He nodded vacantly and took another long drink. Isabela reached her hand out towards the wine, not so much because she wanted a drink but to slow him down. He reluctantly passed it her way. She took a small sip.

"She'll be fine. We need to leave." She knew she was pressing him hard, but this wasn't her first time giving someone the slip. The more of a head-start, the more likely it was to find success. He didn't move. "Fenris," she took a step closer. "You're a good trainer and friend but—"

"She will come here tonight. She always does. So will they. I will not let someone else die for my escape." His mouth was set in a grim line.

"Including me?" Isabela asked, but her tone wasn't serious. It got a small smirk out of him.

She took another few careful steps closer and took a seat next to him. She was already covered in blood and spider slime—a little mud wasn't going to make anything worse. The pirate patted the ground next to her and offered up the wine bottle. The elf slumped down in a tired heap. He looked weary. Green eyes were fixed on the grave like he was half convinced the corpses would rise from it to attack him again. Even slouched over like he was, the tension was visible from the clench of his jaw. It aged him considerably. He took the wine bottle again, clutching it like a sword.

Before he could bring it to his lips, the soft patter of hooves on the dirt path. His eyes snapped to the door of the stables, suddenly as alert as when he had cut down the Tevinter hunters. Isabela got to her feet faster with a quick wave of her hand to silently communicate stay here. She didn't look back to see if he'd complied instead silently pulling a dagger to her side. She peeked around the corner, gold eyes sliding across the open plain and widening when she spotted Mora with a cloaked figure riding a ragged looking mule.

"Goose!" She shouted as she neared. "Goose, you in there?" Isabela kept her dagger out of sight but ready, stepping out into the moonlight. Mora greeted her with a smile. When Isabela did not return the gesture, her expression faltered. Mora looked the pirate over with concern, noting the blood and mud with surprise. "Everything alright, 'Bela? Where's Goose?"

Isabela watched her carefully, looking at the cloaked woman behind her. She had dark skin like Mora's, but dark hair, a rounder face and wide brown eyes. She was largely unremarkable save for the elaborate cloak obviously intended to hide her face. She watched Isabela with something akin to fear, clinging to Mora's back. There was a simple staff strapped to her back. Apostate. Isabela sheathed the dagger silently and smiled tiredly at them both.

"Sorry, sweet thing. A bit of a rough day." She moved to help Mora steady her mount and helped both women down. She heard Fenris skulking out from the barn behind her. The cloaked woman's eyebrows shot up. Isabela watched her carefully. She muttered something to Mora and she turned bright red.

"Ah, uhm. Yes. Goose, this is my sister." She gestured at the cloaked girl. "Annie. Annie, this is my uh, trainer. Goose."

Fenris' eyes narrowed at the sight of the staff, but he nodded at Mora amicably.

"We have a bit of a favour to ask." Mora shuffled closer to them, leaving Annie by the tired animal. "We've had a rough day as well. Thinking a nice camping trip to Sundermount might clear our heads, y'know?"

It was an excuse and a poor one, but they looked to be in about as rough of shape as Isabela and Fenris felt. Neither party seemed interested in divulging more information on the subject. She heard Fenris shifting his weight back and forth, obviously unhappy about the idea. He wouldn't admit it, but his attachment to Mora was clear just from watching them train. Putting her in danger was not something he was going to agree to. But Sundermount wasn't a cake-walk. If they were going into hiding, they were going to need more than just luck. A healer would be a good start. She glanced at Annie's staff.

"Sounds great." Isabela said quickly, stepping in front of Fenris quickly and ignoring his furious look. "We could use a vacation."

II

Isabela and Goose had disappeared into the cottage to pack. A ruck-sack had already been slung over Stumpy's back in haste. Bethany leaned against the mule like he was a safety blanket. Hawke watched her sister carefully, trying to establish if the journey was thus far a success. Her heart hadn't stopped pounding since they'd left the stables. She'd tried to get Bethany into one of her old wigs and some smuggled peasant clothing, but her sister had turned the wig down in favour of a simple spell. Something harder to see through, she said confidently as she changed her face before Hawkes eyes. They had agreed on 'Annie' as her fake name, since it was close enough to Bethany that it wouldn't be hard to fake.

You're so lucky, Bethany had said. This comes easy to you. All you have to do is take your normal disguise off.

The comment had struck a chord with Rees. She hadn't thought of it that way before. But it was true. To be safe inside the castle walls, she had to become Audrianna. To be safe outside the castle walls, Bethany had to be Annie. Hawke was silent during their escape, wondering if there was ever going to be a place where the sisters could be both safe and honest.

She doubted it.

Goose emerged from the cottage with a bundle of items wrapped in a blanket. Most notable were the several bottle shaped pieces, but Hawke made no comment. He had washed up a bit, rinsing the grime and blood from his face and armour. It made a few cuts and bruises more obvious, even in the moonlight, as he packed the blanket of goods into the mule's ruck-sack. As she watched him, Bethany's comment from earlier bubbled up into her mind. You're right. His eyes are beautiful. Hawke felt the blood rush back to her face again and stared at the ground until it resided. She had said no such thing. She had said green. Which was true, they were. She chanced another look. Very, very green. She swallowed and looked down again.

Bethany nudged her with a giggle. She shot her sister a glare. Goose looked up from his packing job, giving Hawke a confused look. She coughed a little and shrugged pretending not to know what was going on. Pretending that she hadn't spent that morning telling her sister about his hair, eyes and muscles.

This was going to be a long walk.

Her sister seemed to be overcoming her fears, now that she was seeing Hawke's trainer in person. She wandered closer to Stumpy and offered a hand with the packing. Goose ignored her. Bethany cleared her throat a little and moved to take a piece of bread from his pack. Without warning, Goose slapped her hand away and shot her a murderous look. Bethany yelped and fell back. Hawke swooped in between Goose and her sister faster than she would have thought possible before Isabela's lessons in footwork.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She demanded. Goose huffed, but otherwise chose not to respond. "Hey. I'm talking to you. Why the fuck did you attack my sister?"

"You brought a mage to my home and expected a warm welcome." He snarled the words so sharply that Rees actually took a step back. She spread her arms a little as if to shield Bethany from him. Even in their most intense sessions she had never seen so much hatred in his eyes. The green she had been admiring before was suddenly threatening and all too intense. He scowled at her for a good long minute before deciding to stalk off towards the cottage for more supplies. Isabela passed him on the way back, glancing between the furious elf and Hawke with a look of mild surprise.

"What, did you finally reject him?" Isabela asked blandly.

Hawke watched his retreat. "What? I—no. He doesn't seem to care for mages."

Isabela's eyes widened in understanding. "Ah. Yeah. Hadn't thought of that." When Hawke shot her a befuddled look she shrugged and put a hand up. "It's… complicated. I don't know the details and I'm not sure he'd tell me if I asked. You know how he is."

"Apparently not." Hawke grumbled. Behind her, Bethany looked like she'd somehow become smaller. Normally bright blue eyes were sad and brown. Even with the fake face she was somehow still a monster to someone. A pang of hurt cut through Hawke's heart like glass. This was supposed to be the great wide world Bethany so wanted to see. This was the adventure she had promised, and already Bethany's fears had been confirmed. Hawke wouldn't have it. She put a hand on Bethany's shoulder and smiled reassuringly. "You'll be safe with me, Annie. I promise. You've nothing to be ashamed of."

They packed in tense silence. Anger radiated from Goose like heat waves cutting through the cold. He did not meet any of their eyes and led the mule towards the mountain path without so much as a warning. The three of them walked behind his lead warily, Bethany still looking for all the world like she was about to cry. Isabela seemed to make it her personal mission to break the tension after a while by squeezing herself between Hawke and Bethany with a grin and mumbling something about hot sisters being a commodity at The Hanged Man, and that Goose should've been more appreciative. It got a small giggle out of Bethany.

Her sister looked at the hand Isabela had draped over her shoulder, noticing a few scratches and bruises. "I can fix those for you," She offered in earnest. "If, well. If you're comfortable with that. I could always mix up a potion when we set camp, but magic is quicker."

Goose scoffed loudly from the front of the group. Hawke glared daggers at the back of his head, silently seething still over his earlier attack. Isabela was kind enough to pretend not to notice. "You go right ahead, sweet thing." She offered out her hand to Bethany. "If you're anything like Mora then I'm sure you're quite talented."

Bethany beamed at her proudly. A soft yellow glow spread from her fingertips onto Isabela's skin for maybe two or three seconds before all hell broke loose. Goose spun around with an expression like lightning and had his sword pointed at Bethany's throat in a matter of seconds. Hawke shoved Isabela and Bethany behind her on instinct alone, the tip of the blade inches from her neck. Grey eyes stared down green ones as Bethany spluttered out broken apologies.

"Hush, sister. You did nothing wrong." Hawke assured her, not moving from where she stood. Goose had the decency to look somewhat bothered by Rees being in the way, but did not drop the weapon.

"I will not let that thing endanger us all." He spat at Hawke's feet. She took a step forward until the blade touched her neck. He watched her carefully.

"You will not touch her." Hawke's voice came out evenly filled with the confidence that only came with quiet fury. "I will be cold in the ground before I let harm come to my sister." She felt Bethany tug at her wrist and whisper for her to step back please, please, but she wouldn't budge. Goose snorted, but sheathed the weapon.

"You are lucky to have a sister so foolishly brave, abomination." He made the mistake of turning around. Something in Hawke snapped and she took the sticks out of her own pack. She rushed up behind him and thwacked him hard on the shoulder.

Goose turned around and stared at her disbelievingly.

Hawke scowled and crouched like Isabela had taught her. Behind her, she heard the pirate whisper something to Bethany and guide her to the mule's side with silent steps. They quickly advanced into the mountain path to leave Goose behind with Hawke. She heard her sister protest but thankfully was hushed by Isabela.

"You would fight me, Mora?" He sneered at her like the notion was preposterous. He drew his very real weapon again and walked around her like he always did when he was looking for an opening. All too aware that she was armed only with bits of wood, Hawke swallowed thickly. But she did not back down. Audrianna Amell would have backed down. Rees Hawke did not.

"I would kill you before I let you hurt a hair on my sister's head." The words escaped her lips with a low rumble in the back of her throat. Goose's sneer vanished in an instant replaced by surprise and something else she could not put her finger on. She steeled herself as he stilled, blade drooping a little. With a soft thud, he dropped the weapon and the satchel around his shoulders to the dirt. He rushed at her bare fisted.

She side stepped and slashed with her sticks, knocking his blows to the side. He aimed a kick at her torso and she ducked, sweeping a blow at his knees. He hopped away from the sticks without much difficulty, then charged at her shoulder first with a jarring cry. She stayed still until the last second. Closing her eyes and remembering Isabela's guidance, she twisted around him and aimed an elbow at the back of his head. He caught it and twisted it behind her.

Hawke yelped and wriggled. Goose pressed uncomfortably into the muscle until she buckled forward onto her knees. Wild panic beating under her skin, Hawke jerked herself painfully from his grasp, only to find herself flat on the ground like the day she'd first come to him for training. His hand had hers pinned above her head, legs closed around her own so she couldn't budge. Their noses just inches apart, so close that the tips of his hair brushed against her forehead.

Only this time, Hawke's other hand had a dagger pressed against his stomach. She twisted it meaningfully.

"Are you going to impale me with your stick, Mora?" Something in his wry smile was bitter. She felt his breath hot on her face, his low voice thrumming vibrations against where she pressed. She took a deep breath.

"Not if I don't have to, Goose." Hawke answered quietly. "Is this going to be a problem?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. Watched his expression shift slowly into tiredness. He let go of her wrist and rolled off of her, back hitting the ground softly. He stared up at the sky with an oddly pained expression. Hawke still kept her stick gripped by her stomach. She felt her heartbeat pounding in her ears and felt herself let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding. She watched him lift a hand up above his face, the markings glowing softly against the pitch black around them. He was silent for a few moments.

"These markings," he struggled to find the right words, "were forced upon me. With magic."

"So you blame my sister?" She retorted. He scowled.

"I blame magic. It comes with a thirst for power and nothing to stop you from having it. From taking it." He hissed the words like it hadn't been the first time he'd said it. Hawke quieted, looking at the markings with the same intensity he did. She brought her own hand up to trace them lightly. He winced and she pulled her hand away.

"They… hurt?" She asked quietly. He didn't answer. He didn't have to. She felt a small bubble of guilt forming beneath her ribs and stubbornly ignored it. "I understand your caution but I still will not allow you to threaten my sister. Do you understand?"

He lowered his hand to his chest. She turned her head to face him, watching the muscles in his jaw clench and unclench, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. He looked back at her. Again Hawke was struck by how close they were. It would've been so easy to scoot just a little closer and close the distance. Her heart sped up again, mind reeling at the notion. It's not like that, she reassured herself. It can't be like that.

Before she had the time to chew out the thought, he had pushed himself off the ground. He walked towards the satchel he had dropped with deliberate steps, searching for something. Hawke heard metal clinking and sat up to watch what he was doing. He considered the items in his hands carefully, like he was unsure of his actions.

The elf came back to her with two small daggers in his hands, sheathed in leather casings with strange marks on them. He sat in front of her and placed them in her reach, nudging them towards her. Hawke stared at the weapons, not comprehending. He puffed out a breath and took one of the spike shaped daggers from its sheath, and placed the hilt in her palm. He closed his hand around hers until she gripped the weapon. He let go. She looked at him incredulously.

"You threatened my sister's life, then mine," she said slowly, "fought me until I had a stick to your gut, and then give me a weapon that I could actually hurt you with?"

He laughed. It was a new sound from him. She couldn't stop the smile from spreading on her own face.

"I am not very skilled in having… friends." He pointedly avoided eye-contact. "I've been told I can be hostile." Hawke snorted. He ignored her and continued. "But I trust you, Mora. I will travel with your sister."

Hawke nodded at him in understanding. She looked down at the daggers again. Her daggers. Her very own weapons. She sheathed the dagger he had placed in her hand like it was made of porcelain, tracing the designs on the hilt with wonder in her eyes. He looked pleased. He opened his mouth again to speak, but was interrupted by a sharp scream.

Bethany's scream.

Ohhh my gosh you guys. It is nearly 2am and I'm going to have to cut this chapter off here. It's already twice my normal length and I'm not even halfway through with what I've got planned. Plus, I've got a long drive home tomorrow, so. Sleep is a thing I need. Forgive me for the cliffhanger. And any typos (of which I'm sure there are numerous).

And I'm not sure how to express clearly how much glee each review gives me. Like if I could bake a cake with all of them, I totally would. LoquaciousQuark and NightlyRowenTree, you guys give me life with your reviews on every update. And everyone else that reviews occasionally, I literally squeal with joy each time I get a notification. Seriously, I sit here pathetically refreshing and waiting for the approval of strangers on the internet. It's truly pathetic. And thank you Nebulad as always for letting me bounce ideas off you at bizzare hours of the night. I hope you find your sub sandwich.