"Alistair, stop it! You're going to kill yourself!" Hawke put a firm grip on the man's shoulder to call his antics to a halt. "You're trying to batter down a door that has probably stood since Tevinter held the Free Marches… without any clothes." She had been scolding him for so long. At first she had been angry, but now it had faded to something else.

"I don't care!" The man shrugged her hand away. "I'm getting us out of here… both of us." He threw himself at the sturdy structure again and winced as he fell back, his undamaged hand fell to his now horrendously bruised side and shoulder.

The swordswoman felt something stir in the pit of her stomach and claw at her eyes.

More guilt.

He was hurting himself because of her. The others were dead because of her.

She would never hear another of Varric's stories, or try in vain to drink Isabella under the table. She would never see Merrill's fumbled attempts at building bridges, or watch Aveline blush and smile at Donnic's affections… or Maker help her, pretend that she was listening when Sebastian began one of his sermons; Anders would never win his war, Bethany would never be free, and Fenris…

She recalled the way his stare had softened when he saw her, and the way he desperately tried not to smile when she cracked a joke in front of the others but it tugged at the corners of his mouth anyway… The way he had always been at her side as they fought, as if determined not to let her fall... and when she did he had always made damn sure she got back up.

He never said as much, but he had protected her without concern for himself or ever asking for thanks. Whether or not he had returned her feelings, these were things Hawke could not deny. These were memories that made her ache.

Now he was gone… they were all gone. All because she had abused their friendship and brought them down here to their deaths.

And now Alistair was willing to throw his life away too?

Hawke's eyes burned.

"Please stop." She requested gently. Her voice was coarse… her throat was tight. She cursed silently to herself.

She had not cried for Carver, she had mourned of course, but circumstances had not allowed for an outpour of grief.

But this time it was different. She was trapped in her own silence. She couldn't speak for fear of revealing her pain to Alistair, yet she couldn't stay wrapped in the quiet of her own thoughts… remembering how much she had had in her friends and to know that it was gone… it made her feel sick. All she could do was beg Alistair not to become one of the casualties that she had caused.

"You can't give up… not yet." The young King clambered to his feet, his stance tensed. She knew he was about to throw himself at the door again. And she would see him fall again… more bruised than before. And she would look on, and know that he was causing himself torment… because of her…

"Please stop!" She threw herself forward and clung to his arm. Hawke felt him relax a little, though not completely. She released her hold on him, though she did not distance herself. "Stop this, Alistair. They are letting you go, can you not be content with that?"

"I'll not leave you here to die…"

"You would see Ferelden without a King?"

"You would see a coward on the throne? Hawke, who knows what they're summoning? They could unleash Maker knows what on Thedas… and you're going to let them use you as a puppet?! You need to get hold of yourself."

Hawke was taken aback by his assertive demeanour, but she pushed her argument nonetheless. "Cormac said he would strike me down. I thought you were a Grey Warden…? This seems like a plan you should at least be considering…"

"No. I'm not letting a madman possess you with something we don't even understand so he can murder you!… It's not right! There's nothing right about this. We don't even know he's telling the truth…"

"You said that you know him." She challenged.

"I knew him… Andraste! I don't even recognise what he's become. He's got the same nose but that's about it…" Alistair paused and sighed, as if recalling a distant memory. When he spoke again, he seemed reflective "He was a good man and a great Warden. Leaving him to this insanity is an insult to his name. I mean, did you hear how he kept going on about an Old Goddess…? I don't know what light is guiding him… but I know that I don't like it."

"You don't believe his story?"

"I don't know." Alistair shrugged. "I suppose anything's possible… I've seen enough to know that…"

He watched Hawke drop her gaze and she fell silent once more. He felt for her. To lose something you hold so dear was truly shattering… and he could see her suffering. It was as if she wore it in place of her armour.

He remembered how his heart had seemingly stopped beating when Flemeth had told him of Duncan's fate; if it hadn't been for Mahariel he probably would have fallen apart then and there. The Dalish Warden had pulled him through, he had been a brother when he had needed one. He had been Alistair's rock.

And who did Hawke have? Just him.

She must have pulled the short straw.

Alistair rested his hands on her shoulders and drew her to him. "Please… stay with me…" He pleaded.

To his surprised, she didn't pull away. In fact, she seemed to shake in his arms. It took the young King a moment to consider that the woman he held was crying.

Alistair suddenly became very aware that this time… now… there was no armour between them. He held her in all her vulnerability and pain, and this embrace was all he had to offer. An embrace that told her he understood her agony.

And that was all she needed right now.

"Ridiculous…! Mere pebbles will not stop me…" The elf growled.

"They've completely blocked the path, you moron!" Anders snapped as he healed his own broken rib. He had summoned the barrier just in time to save them… but not without cost to his own health.

"One of us must be able to do something…?" Merrill interjected, though she aimed it at Varric and Isabella.

"We'll do something, Daisy… though I'll admit I'm not sure what, right now."

Merrill had never seen Varric look so serious, something about his drawn and bloodied face made her frightened. What if they delayed too long? What if something happened? What if she never saw Hawke again?

Anders had said about the Veil being thin here, and although it had taken her slightly longer to realise it, he was right. So very right.

Every step she took into the deep had drawn her closer. It wasn't a spirit as she had experienced it… but she could feel its wordless summon ever growing. Yet it did not call to her like the others. It just cried. And its call made her blood turn to ice.

It made her skin crawl.

More than anything she wanted to run; to flee back the Keeper and beg for her to shield her First as she had done for so long.

But there was a fire in Merrill that kept her fear in check. Hawke was in trouble… she knew it in her bones; and the Dread Wolf take her, she would not leave this darkness until they were reunited and ready to walk under the open sky once more.

"Maybe you could use some of that blood magic you're so fond of?" She heard Fenris mutter disparagingly.

"It doesn't work like… oh…. I see." She paused as he shot her a venomous glare.

"The Veil is all but torn down here," the recovered healer stood and told them both sternly. "The slightest hint of blood magic could rip it asunder. I don't even want to hear talk of blood magic…"

"What rich advice from the biggest hypocrite in Kirkwall…"

"Fenris, Maker help me I've told you…"

"Yes… you've told me you're not a blood mage; you've also told me that you're not an abomination… you'll forgive me for being sceptical…"

"Well, even with magic off the table we still need to get through…" Varric thought aloud, "and I can't think of anything…"

"Maybe we should find some pickaxes…?" The Rivaini shrugged. "I don't see many other options."

"Other options, no," the dwarf agreed, "any major blasts could bring the entire tunnel down on us… dammit!"

Fenris grunted and began to tear at the smaller pebbles. Merrill watched him scratch at them furiously before trying his strength against a boulder almost as big as he was. The lyrium in his skin flared as he growled with the strain.

"Elf… what are you..?"

"We pull it apart…" he choked out, and the huge rock shifted slightly. "I'll tear down every tunnel, stone by stone down if I have to…!"

The dark haired elf sucked in a breath. She pulled her magic forward to shift the stone that resisted the swordsman. As it flew back into the dark of the tunnel behind them, she sensed Varric and Isabella dodge its path. Yet her gaze remained with her fellow elf… a man who had never disguised his hatred or mistrust of her… but now he seemed wide-eyed and surprised. Merrill supposed she could get used to a change of attitude, but she hadn't done it to find his approval… she was doing this to save someone who had never questioned her intentions or character.

As much as he had mistreated her over the years; as much as they were from completely different worlds, she and Fenris had one thing in common… their unwavering loyalty to the woman who had brought them salvation.

She would help him bring her home with no hope of thanks from him. She would do it for Hawke.

"I agree, stone by stone. Get out of the way, Fenris."

"And if the tunnel falls in on us?" Isabella queried, though her tone indicated that she already knew what the answer would be.

"Then it falls."

…..

"You could have kept him alive for questioning."

"I suppose I could have… but a dead scout can't report back." Aveline looked down on the dwarven corpse nonchalantly.

"He can't give us any information either." Sebastian pointed out.

"I'll admit, I'm as surprised as you are that he's not darkspawn… but I'm not wasting my time interrogating these sneaky bastards when we need to move. I'll get my answers from Hawke…"

The soldier to her right jumped five foot in the air when the first crash sounded.

"Another attack?" The archer cocked an arrow in his bow and took his stance.

Another bang thundered down the passage.

The Guard Captain stood and her hand fell to her sword instinctively, though she didn't brace herself for a fight. "No. it's too much noise… too clumsy."

"Then who…?"

Aveline raised her eyebrows to him. "Do you really need to ask me that question?"

…..

Werner swore with a voice almost feral. "Shit!"

"You said they were dead?" Cormac listened to the pounding of stone against stone roar down the tunnels. They weren't immediately on them… but he knew it was only a matter of time.

"I know what I said." The dwarf snapped as he drew his blade. "Believe me though, they will be soon enough. And whichever one is the last standing… I'll drag the filthy bastard down here and slit his throat in front of the girl!"

"Perhaps we had best delay the ritual?"

Werner's milky eyes narrowed. "You bring Wardens to my home… and now you try to weasel out of the duty you have sworn to do?"

The mage tried to speak but the words stuck in his throat. "No, Werner." He managed to choke out. There was something about the dwarf that seemed… evil… it was the only way Cormac could describe it to himself. Werner had always been more bloodthirsty than his kin, but the Warden had never seen such a desire cause death. It chilled his blood.

"Because if you betray the Goddess…"

"What? No… we agreed… you swore we wouldn't wake her."

"We agreed we would put her soul in the girl."

"But…"

"You wanted to stop a Blight, didn't you? If the Goddess is sealed in the girl you've succeeded, haven't you? Your final battle… my Warden friend." Normally Werner would have taken more care in feeding his lies to Cormac… but time was running out now.

"I suppose…" Cormac hesitated… he seemed unsure. Werner fought not to curse. Would the mage betray him? He had come too far; he was too close to give in now. The voice would be his… and he would finally leave this tomb knowing that he would never be parted from its song.

Those down the passage to the right would be dead shortly. But what if someone got passed him? What if they planned an ambush? He needed to think. He needed to make sure whatever help arrived would arrive in vain.

"Start the ritual." The dwarf demanded. "Quickly… before they can ruin everything. We will not risk the Goddess falling to the darkspawn or to unclean hands."

"She must not fall to the darkspawn."

"Good. Now I'll go and see to dealing with our new…"

Werner was cut off by a deep voice that echoed down the tunnels. It called out again and again and only became louder. "Hawke!"

Other voices joined his.

Werner pulled another dagger loose.

They would be silenced soon enough.