I REMAIN AT YOUR SIDE

ACT TWELVE: FIGHTING FOR HER FOE

There was no doubt that they were in danger, but she could not stop to consider that just yet. Not now, when the world itself had grown quiet in spite of the activity blossoming around her.

Because Hawke could still feel the flow within her veins as it tingled and resonated with a coolness that was reminiscent of Anders' healing magic; could feel it disperse the whispers within her mind like smoke in the wind, before pooling low in her belly where it remained briefly before fading into nothingness.

Beneath her ribcage her stomach still roiled with hunger at the same time it threatened to reject anything introduced to it, yet this was not the taint. Her stomach had held this feeling before her fight against the ogre, and thanks to Anders she could now identify it. This was the child within her, making its presence known. It was here and, like its parents, it had fought for its little life.

Hawke now could do no less.

Yet she was weakened by hunger, possessing only enough strength within limbs to hold her own in light combat for a short time. And while she had the distinct feeling that what was to come would be anything but a casual skirmish, she also knew that it was unavoidable. Guile would have to be her greatest weapon here, and she had more than enough of that. She need only put it to work.

At her side Fenris had grown as rigid as steel, with his eyes fixed upon Avernus and his lips pulled back in a sneer. She knew well the stance he now adapted; his arms held slightly outward and fingers splayed like a bird poised for flight, and his spine curved inward with his weight balanced not for speed, but for power. This was not the bearing he exhibited when he was ready to strike out for the quick kill. On the contrary, Fenris' posture was promising something far more grisly and personal. During these moods was when he was at his most dangerous, for when the warrior chose not to fight but to slaughter, not even Hawke could coax reason back into him.

Yet her lover was not the only one bent on what was to come. Beyond the steps which lead down to the main level Anders and Oghren had weapons in hand; the dwarf chuckling a low, dark sound that promised bloodshed and carnage, though not to the same degree Fenris' silence did. It seemed to her that Anders was her only ally who still held to reason - the irony of that not lost to Hawke.

With an imperious wave of one gnarled hand, a wall of fire erupted between the ancient mage and his foes, while Avernus himself casually strode from the dais from beyond the small inferno, calling to his comrades that the Champion was not to be harmed.

Disdain was clear in his features even beyond the licking flames as his eyes slid over her allies, and he sneered. "Dispose of the others."

A guttural laugh broke the tableau as Oghren struck first, his axe already whistling through the air as he bellowed demands for someone - anyone - 'to come and get it,' while Anders stepped back from the dwarf, his staff belching fire at the first of the ranged fighters to breach the entrance.

Yet the man at Hawke's side maintained a raptor's focus upon the blood mage; his lean warrior's frame maintaining its perfect, eery stillness. It would not be so for long.

Flecks of frost and ice from one of Anders' closer attacks peppered her cheek and Hawke moved, her soft boots spinning easily upon the worn flooring as she ghosted down the short steps and rushed Anders in a flurry of movement too quick for the mage to react to. Leather-glad hands clutched at his shoulders and spun him forcibly as she would clutch at a man she intended to use as a human shield. Instead of holding him in place, however, she ignored the outraged cry her companion emitted and wrenched the broadsword free from his back, spinning back to the weapon's owner.

"Fenris!" She cried, not hesitating when that piercing stare turned on her; rage and violence clearly shimmering in those green depths even from a distance. Twirling on her toes with the blade extended from her body, she completed two full rotations and released the handle, staggering slightly as the heavy weapon left her hands and shot through the air like a bolt from a trebuchet.

The warrior in its path took one deft step back and latched on as the weapon sailed passed, his own body spinning as Hawke's had to slow the sword's momentum so that he could brandish it before him. Hard eyes returned to her as his curved lips pulled back over gleaming teeth; his voice rising up on a forceful bellow. "Leave this place!"

And then, seemingly without a second thought on her presence, Fenris took action; his beautiful form shimmering as he phased from the corporeal to the intangible while several Wardens converged upon him, weapons drawn and already in motion.

A twinge of sadness sparked within her as she watched uniforms she had so respected swarm the man that she loved. Those Grey Wardens would not last long, she knew.

And then reality crashed back about her ears, as a rough shout caught her attention; clearly meant for her though her name was never used. "'Ay! Pincushion! Watch your sodding back!" Her dwarf companion's gruff call from the vicinity of the door came with only just enough time for Hawke to turn and dip low as the blade of a longsword sailed over her back. Twirling lightly from her crouched position, Hawke tore loose her daggers and deflected the follow-through blow. Beyond her adversary the offensive man held another Warden at bay; the haft of his axe gripped at both ends as he crushed it against the rogue man's throat and choked the life from him.

Hawke startled; she had been foolish to drop her guard as she did. Cursing herself loudly and shouting a quick word of thanks to her companion, she darted behind the back of the warrior who had also thought to capitalize on her distraction, thrusting a dagger through the seam between the woman's breastplate and pauldron. The Warden's scream was cut short when the woman turned her head towards the wounded appendage and gave Hawke the opening she needed to slit her quarry's throat. Yet there was no chance to savor in her first true victory since her fall to the ogre. The chamber was rapidly filling with blue and silver uniforms; the whole of the stronghold had answered the blood mage's call, and it now appeared that the hold had been fully established.

Not good.

Judging by his barked command, Fenris had clearly known their situation before she had, or at least he had an idea of it.

"We can't fight them all!" She called over her shoulder to the apostate in their company while dancing out of the way of an oncoming arrow, barely aware of Avernus' enraged admonition to those under his command that 'the woman' was not to be harmed. "We have to run!"

"Run?!" Anders barked, his staff spinning around his body and shoulders like a mad acrobat's performance, throwing off sparks and flashes of bright energies that charred and ignited those unlucky enough to find themselves the focus of his attention, "to where exactly?" With a sudden startled cry he lurched back unexpectedly, earning a scratch to his cheek instead of a shaft through his eye. Cursing out a mixture of shock and outrage, the blonde slammed the end of his staff into the ground and lightening irradiated in jagged paths along the floor, only to meet its target standing not more than fifteen paces off - a young archer who had tucked himself against a wall where he had held his assault from a distance. The man - boy really - convulsed as blue energies surged up his legs and through the rest his body before at last he collapsed, power still arcing over his uniform though the Warden himself showed no further trace of life.

Irritated with the waste of a good life, Hawke grimaced and took up the role of giving the mage close cover; dancing around him and fending off physical attacks while Anders delivered his spell work onto any that tried to overwhelm the pair. It was strange dancing so closely with him again, after so long; for not even during their journey to this place had she acted as his personal bodyguard. Yet she needed support as much as he needed time to cast forth his magics, and so together they fought, felling Wardens more rapidly and effectively than the two men who chose to fight alone.

From the other side of the room a coarse Tevene obscenity bit into the air; backed by rage and physical exertion. "Vehedas! I told you to leave!" In spite of the fact that his attention had not turned from his attacks since they had first been launched, Fenris was clearly monitoring her position.

Yet Anders had been right, she realized. Where could she run? Where could they run? Even if they escaped this room and the dozens of Wardens streaming into it, they were still in the Deep Roads. Racing through these passages without care was all but begging for death.

And at the moment it did not appear the Grey Wardens would allow her the luxury of a choice. The size of the chamber alone prevented the rest of their ranks from joining the fray, but she could hear more voices still from the passageway they had entered from. Regardless of what Fenris may wish, she was not going anywhere, and neither were her companions. If there was going to be any chance for the lot of them to make it out of this with their lives, she was going to have to come up with a plan.

Thankfully much of the Wardens' focus had been removed from her. Either that or those loyal to Avernus simply did not want to be the ones to risk his wrath if she was slain. She found that she had to chase the battle more often than not; the effort taxing her limited physical resources despite her diminished battlefield of four paces in any direction from where Anders stood his ground. Warriors soon abandoned their attempts at reaching the mage when the rogue placed herself squarely within their path; goading them into fighting her. Soon magical attacks and the occasional arrows were all that flew at them, and even that was waning as more often than not Hawke was in their path.

Beyond her blades and Anders' staff, the battle had grown fiercest in two tight gatherings, where Oghren and Fenris served as the eyes of the chaotic storms. Blades flashed red in the dim light as her two warrior companions fought the hardest of them all; Oghren glad to take down anyone who approached him while Fenris worked steadily towards a single, fixed target.

Given how ferociously the men and women standing against her companions fought, it was clear that while the Grey Wardens stationed to this thaig may have reported to Commander Valeria at one time, someone else now commanded their loyalties. Someone who had undoubtedly made promises these Wardens were all too willing and desperate to believe.

Talented though he may be, Fenris would never get through to the blood mage with his present efforts. Vivid cuts streaked his arms and scorch marks darkened his skin, giving evidence that he was not as untouchable as he seemed to think. And there were still so many Wardens willing to stain their blades with his blood. He would never get close enough.

No one would.

Hawke physically stilled from her place just beyond the apostate's back as her mind tripped over a sudden idea, and without a second thought she pulled a purple flask from her pack, shattering the container at her feet. Acrid smoke billowed from the liquid which pooled upon the stone floor, and Hawke drew a careful breath, stepping into the cloud as is expanded and enveloped her.

With silent footsteps the rogue skittered around men and women too distracted with their own battles to notice her, knowing that she had just seconds from the time the flask broke to act. Not enough time to reach Avernus or to take down a large number of enemies, but more than enough time for what she intended.

Reaching her destination at last Hawke sheathed her weapons and retrieved her prize, while around her the last of her smokescreen dissipated. Now it was all she could to to remain in the shadows and avoid detection for as long as possible.

In an area as crowded as this, the effort taxed her abilities, if not her stamina. Oghren's tangent was doing well enough to distract them for now, but soon enough Avernus would notice her disappearance. She couldn't just avoid combat - she had to remain unseen, and in a battlefield as heavily populated as this she could not escape detection for long.

Her breath caught when Anders' head jerked with a start, having at last taken notice of her absence. Amber eyes darted over the chamber briefly until his body grew impossibly still for only a moment, before he made a visible effort to lock his eyes forward, resuming his attacks on those who grew too near to him. No longer did he try to find her, though the strain of worry still creased the corners of his eyes. Whatever his concerns, he knew her strengths and abilities, and had clearly decided to leave her to her craft.

She may never be able to trust him as she once had, or as he now trusted her, but when this was over she would see him cured of the Taint. She would see him given a chance at redemption. If she owed him nothing more, she owed him that much.

With feather-fall steps Hawke continued to tread through the shadows along the edges of the battle; flinching and then ignoring the pained cry that rose up from her mage companion behind her. His magic still charged the air, and rushing back to his side would serve no purpose. If any of them were going to survive she had to keep to her plan.

When she had at last reached a suitable location Hawke's steps ceased and she lifted her prize carefully. The bowstring felt warm against her cheek and her fingers carefully avoided fouling the fletching of the arrow she knocked. Hawke was no expert with a bow. She never had been. Like Isabela, she preferred the surety of two solid blades in her grip. But blades would not win her this battle. Not when her body was no longer hers alone to endanger. Not when her enemy's defenses were so numerous.

Not when her life was the prize for victory here.

Instead she waited and watched as the yellow aura surrounding Avernus held firm and then slowly began to waiver. Hawke's arm burned with the effort of maintaining the draw of the string, and she stubbornly refused her limbs the luxury of shaking beneath the stress. It was clear that what little strength she had reclaimed from the cure was waning. When this was over she would be useless on the field, regardless of if she succeeded or not.

From his place beside the platform, Fenris had resorted to alternating between phasing to protect his person and returning to the physical in order to batter against the defenses of the mages who acted as a living magical shield for the blood mage; all the while Avernus himself threw forth walls of fire and great spears of ice meant to scorch and shred the elf. Her lover staggered under the assault more than he had, and in spite of her desire to rush to him and save him from further injury, Hawke ignored his struggles as she watched for her opportunity.

The shimmering of the blood mage's wards flickered all the more erratically and Hawke took her breath, holding it as she waited.

There would only be this one moment.

There would only be this one arrow.

The ward died and the Grey Warden lifted his arm to recast.

Hawke exhaled and let the thin shaft and feathers slip from her fingers; watched as the arrow raced through the air between his subordinates before finally burying in the ancient man's chest. As one, the men in his command acting as his living shield whirled in response to his pained outcry, and without hesitating Fenris cleaved through the closest of the pair, his sword severing the mage's shoulder from the torso in an ugly, jagged line that stopped just beyond the breastbone.

The bow clattered to the ground and Hawke rushed the felled Warden, headless of the combatants still surging around her or the growing fatigue of her limbs. Spinning and dipping to avoid stray attacks as she went, Hawke tore her way through the chamber before at last crying out to her lover as he pulled his sword free of the corpse it was lodged within; his blade lifting high before driving its point down with clear intent. Panicked, Hawke reached out and thrust her hands up beneath one shimmering forearm, knowing that her effort alone would not be enough to stop the blade's decent.

It was not, but Fenris' was, just as she had counted on; the forearm Hawke clutched to pushed her aside while the other dragged the blade away, ruffling her hair with its passing air current before drawing to a halt behind the warrior.

"Kaffas! Fasta vass!" Her lover roared, panting his exertion as he set a murderous glare upon her, yet Hawke ignored him in favor of dropping to her knees beside the man she had spared an immediate death.

"You won't survive," she announced flatly, "but there is still time to save your Order. Tell me - what are the components of the serum?"

Blood blurbed from the man's mouth as he laughed a derisive sound. "My life's most important work, and you think you can know it in three breaths?"

"Not all - just the most important parts. Give me that at least."

"You selfish child," he rasped. "I could have saved Thedas. And all it would have cost was your life."

"You still can." Hawke pressed. "Or are you too petty to give me what I need? To give your Order what it needs?"

"I already told you," Avernus sneered through a bubbling cough, "the Grey Wardens must take back their Joining. Give that to the Commander. If her mages cannot decipher it, then they don't... deserve... their lives..."

"And what of these men that just fought for your life?" She demanded indignantly, her fingers tightening on the Warden's shoulders in frustration and unaware that the room was growing steadily quieter. "You will allow them to die for your pride?! Answer me!" Hawke cried out angrily, yet it was too late. The mage's eyes stared vacantly up at the ceiling above her, motionless except when jostled by her.

Her first thought was the most painful one her mind could conjure at that precise moment: Bethany's sweet face, smiling at her through sunken eyes and pale skin.

With a physical shake of her head, Hawke forced herself to abandon her despair for the moment; her head snapping to the elevated work station. On legs far steadier than they felt she mounted the steps and crossed the dais, pushing passed Fenris while stepping carefully over the bodies he had left in his wake. At her back her lover uttered words she did not yet know in a dark, menacing tone, yet she could not afford to allow him to effect her emotions yet, or all control would be lost.

With numb fingers she reached for the flask she had taken the cure from; the dark residue still clinging to the glass and pooling slightly at the bottom. Locating a suitable stopper, Hawke pushed the cork into the glass opening, depositing it into her pack. Methodically she applied the same practice to the bottles she had watched Avernus lift just a short time ago, stopping up the vials and packing them away as she went.

"What exactly do you think you are doing?" A gruff, unfamiliar voice demanded from below the platform, and Hawke lifted her eyes in the direction the voice had come to find a large man with a thick beard glaring at her.

"These are the vials he used to make the cure," she said, waving an arm over the workbench. "The Commander must have someone who will be able to identify these mixtures."

"She did," the Warden growled. "You just murdered him."

From further off to her left Anders scowled darkly. "I think you may have missed the part where he decided killing Hawke was a good idea. He had his serum. He didn't need her."

"You don't know that."

Anders' posture visibly tensed as it did when something outraged him. "Were you not listening?" He demanded, his hand gesturing emphatically before him; staff still clutched in a white-knuckled grip. "He didn't need her to cure us! He had his cure. He was going to use her for experiments. To research a way to end all Blights - something the Commander had not sanctioned."

"Blood magic," Fenris sneered from his place over the body of the mage in question. "He was consumed by it; just as any other mage desperate to secure their own immortality."

Hawke shook her head, continuing to gather up each vial that contained a substance of some kind, packing them away before moving onto the research notes and books. "It won't be for nothing," she stated firmly, as much for herself as for those in attendance, "I won't let it be for nothing." With her pack near to bursting, Hawke at last began to descend the steps from the dais, only to have the bearded man who had spoken out against her move to block her path.

"You think we're just going to let you walk out of here with Grey Warden property?" His eyes narrowed as the tip of his sword lifted beside him in a clear threat; Hawke sensed Fenris' approach even if she could not hear it and lifted her fingers in a gesture meant to halt the violence he would inflict, if nothing else. Now was precisely the time when they could not afford more fighting. Now was the only chance she had to secure their lives and safe passage from this place.

"Your Commander sent me for this," she replied, her voice a hard knife edge in a throat raw with emotions she dared not express. "I am to bring her the results of the research she supported for nearly a decade." She stepped forward, lifting her chin so that she could hold eye contact with him despite the difference in height between them. "Unless you intend to try and keep it from her. Do you intend that, Warden?"

"You killed her men," the bearded man growled, "why should we believe you?"

"Because unlike Avernus, I've done nothing but keep my word," Hawke countered, consciously keeping her voice steady. "I agreed to travel through the Deep Roads for your Commander, and I have. Even though it almost killed me. I agreed to take the serum here, instead of in the Commander's presence, just as Avernus demanded. I held to that." Her eyes swiveled to the enraged elf standing a few paces off, "and I promised this man that I wouldn't die if he didn't. He still stands, so I fought for my life. Just as I promised." Her gaze returned to the great wall of a man before her. "Now I have one final promise to keep. I need to take the cure to your Commander. If what Avernus said is true, I have part of it within me, and she'll know the rest."

Her eyes narrowed and her lips pulled back. "So unless you think you can do better to recreate Avernus' work, I suggest you stand aside and let me finish what I swore Valeria Therin I would do. Do you, Warden, have a problem with that?"

The man before her glowered down with such anger until at last he huffed an angry breath. "I don't rightly have a choice, do I?" He demanded as he stepped aside. "But you had better pray to the Maker she finds a way. If you fail, the Grey Wardens won't forgive this attack."

In spite of her better judgement, Hawke felt her ire pique at the threat of future attack. She was done with running. With hiding and living in fear of being pursued. She had too much to do; too many reasons now to desire a right to her own path.

She was done with all of it.

"If you think you can hold me accountable for the actions of a power-mad blood mage," she sneered back, stepping in closer to the man despite his retreat, and straining for as much height as she could muster with her dignity, "I invite you to come and try to exact your judgment. You won't need to go to your Callings when I'm done with you."

And without a backward glance to see if the man would raise his blade, or to confirm her companions would follow, Hawke shouldered passed the enraged Grey Warden and strode from the room, never deigning to meet the gazes of any who stepped aside to let her pass.

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Her heart thrummed beneath her breast as she marched forward, and she knew that if she stopped moving the others would see how her body trembled. Her composure was cracking, tearing long fissures in the confident veneer she had presented to the Grey Wardens.

It was over now and, without a life-or-death struggle to distract her, Hawke could not avoid the onslaught of emotions that were now overtaking her. The knowledge that she and her child had been saved swirled into a sickening mixture with thoughts of others. Of Bethany, and Anders, and the countless Wardens who may never know the kiss of the cure in their veins. Of her mother, who had so wanted to be a grandmother, yet would never know the little one growing inside of her. And of the life that she would have to offer the child - a life of running from those who would seek to use her for their own gains.

Yet just as these thoughts came to be they were snuffed out, as a painful grip took hold of her arm, spinning her around so that her eyes clashed with a flashing crystalline green glare.

"Festis bei umo canavarum!" Fenris railed as he pulled at her roughly, heedless of the way she stumbled within his grasp. "You had no right!" His voice came on as a thunderous boom instead of a quiet growl; he was angry, but not so far gone to his rage that the horrible quiet had taken over. Hawke thanked the Maker for that much.

"They were in the corridors," she replied, pulling his fingers from her arm with great effort, "even if I tried I wasn't going to get by."

"So instead you threw yourself into the fray?" He demanded, his face contorted in a mask she knew too well as he threw a wild gesture to the great hall behind them. "You are not yet well. You could have fallen to them!"

"I had to do something, Fenris," she pressed, "or there would have been no clear path to escape through."

"If you knew from the start that you were not going to be able to run then you should have kept to the shadows! But no. You simply could not be bothered to spare yourself the danger!"

Hawke balked. "And abandoned the three of you to your deaths?" Metal clad hands gripped her shoulders tightly and pulled at her, bringing her face-to-face with narrowed green eyes and gleaming teeth.

"Kaffas! Your life is no longer your own, Hawke! Does that mean nothing to you?!"

And there it was again, that expression she had never known before recently, and yet was confident now that it existed.

Beneath his ire and his outrage, Fenris was afraid.

Hesitating only a moment, Hawke allowed her tension to slip from her body as she slowly lifted her hand, resting her fingertips to one dark cheek. He flinched away from her touch at first, and yet she did not let that deter her, pressing a delicate touch to his overly warm skin. For a time she simply stood there, her fingers slowly sliding up into the downy soft hair at his temple so that she could cup his cheek, watching as the expression of rage slowly quieted from his features.

"It's alright to be afraid, Fenris," she whispered, "I am."

His expression hardened once more; his grip upon her shoulder tightening as though he intended to shake her. But the action never came, and after a moment his lovely face tipped away from hers, hidden slightly behind starlight colored hair; the grip upon her arms loosening and tightening sporadically as Fenris struggled against whatever emotions were vying to overtake him.

"I... cannot believe that," he admitted in a broken, graveled voice. "I spent too long living in fear. When I finally cast it off I swore I would never live like that again. Now I find myself returning to that uncertainty, and it gnaws at me."

The fingers in his hair stilled as an icy dread took hold of her, and before she could stop herself she heard the words pouring from her lips. "I would never ask you to do or be anything you do not wish for, Fenris," she breathed. "If this is not what you want-"

Lips claimed her mouth in a crushing kiss before she could complete the thought, drowning out her words and bringing forth the slight taste of copper from the desperate pressure. Helpless beneath his fervor Hawke opened her mouth and found his tongue immediately present; swirling against her own and laving at the blood he had drawn from her lips.

Forgetting herself and where they stood, Hawke surrendered to his attention, sliding her hands behind his neck and allowing him to pull her against the uncomfortable metal that shielded his chest as they lost themselves to one another. His arms encircled her, pinning her to him and enveloping her in his unusual heat which she had grown to enjoy, especially here in the damp cold of the Deep Roads. And if she heard the faint sound of suggestive laughter at her back she certainly did not care enough to stop.

Finally, though, the lips against hers became softer, cupping her upper lip gently with soft, wet sounds before at last allowing cool air to come between them. "If you think that I will leave you now," he murmured, "you are as mad as the company you keep." His words drove a bubble of relief up to her throat, and Hawke swallowed, resting her forehead to his and hoping it would speak the words she could not utter aloud.

"Well," the apostate behind them chimed brusquely, and Hawke suddenly realized she had just done to the mage what together they had done to Fenris for years in Kirkwall. Even if he no longer held romantic feelings for her - which she dared not try to find out - it might still have been awkward for him. "Now that that's all settled," Anders continued, "perhaps we should move on? There is, after all, an entire thaig of angry Grey Wardens not more than fifty paces behind us, and hordes of darkspawn roaming the corridors we are going to have to travel through."

Fenris' gaze hardened again, sliding towards the apostate, but Hawke's quick fingers kept his face turned towards her. "Come on," she murmured, "you've got a job to do." The dark brows before her lifted with mild curiosity and she smiled for his benefit more than out of true humor. "My daggers are retired now, remember?" She pointed out, cocking a brow of her own in mock-warning. "Unless my hand is forced."

A barely perceptible smirk tugged at her lover's full lips all too briefly before he set her away from him. "I assure you, that will not be necessary. I remain at your side."

Turning in the direction that they had come, Hawke ignored the grumbled complaints from the dwarf and the awkward glances from the apostate. There was too much to consider, and she had just under two weeks until they reached the surface.

As they walked she began to mull over the idea of asking Anders to try to identify the substances within the flasks when next they set up camp. He was a healer, and had as good a chance as any Grey Warden mage to identifying the components of the serum.

The thoughts that had tried to bury her in despair moments ago rose up once more, and it took all of her effort to muscle them down. There was too much to do, and as tempting as it was, giving in to grief would serve no purpose. Between the vials in her pack and the cleansed blood in her veins, there was still hope for the Wardens - for her sister. And with Fenris' vow she knew that she would not have to endure what was to come alone.

She would not give up so easily.

She could not return to Valeria empty-handed.

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