A good portion of the late morning was spent whacking at the wooden targets in my yard until sweat soaked my skin and clothes, my anger still nowhere near to being sated. My body fatigues much faster than my rage as I give up and towel off the sweat. I wear my normal attire with exception of the red sash that loops in the top of my leggings which I couldn't find this morning. Standing on the balcony that looks over the main courtyard, I watch the people bustle to and fro in the mid-day sun, some looking up and smiling, others completely oblivious. This is one of the best things about this new home. Someplace I can watch, uninterrupted by the world around me, as the people go about their daily lives. I watch them for some time, leaning forward on the railing and staring out, thinking.

The time has come that I embrace my magic. I feel it now, like a distant thrum inside me, beating against the barrier of my flesh. Closing my eyes and focusing on it, I feel it coalesce in my fingertips, flowing like a rapid river to the waterfall of its outlet. Sparks jump from my fingertips causing me to open my eyes and smile. I can control this. I will control this. No more fear.

Balling my hand into a fist, I look back out, instantly spotting the white hair and domineering gait of the elf. I am staring at him, hatred and betrayal poisoning me like venomous vipers in my heart. Father was right but he was also wrong. Love is weakness, but it is not our greatest strength, and I will crush it like the worm it has become. It's as if he feels my eyes following him because his gaze is drawn up to the balcony and me, then as if it causes him some sort of unseen pain, he looks away again, continuing to Maker only knows where. I hate you, I think. If Danarius was to come to Kirkwall now, I would gladly hand you to him. Making an ugly sound in the back of my throat, I go back into the house.

I run into Orana, who is in my bedroom, busy tidying. Part of me wants to chastise her for picking up after me, but I don't have the heart for it. When she sees me, she smiles warmly and seems genuinely happy. I muster a half-hearted smile in return. I am too angry and hurt to give much more. Her expression falters slightly and then her head tilts to the side in contemplation. "Are you…alright, mistress?" she asks hesitantly.

I nod and intend to say something about the whole mistress bit but then decide to just let it go. If she is anything like Bohdan, she will most likely persist in calling me this anyway, much to my chagrin. "Sure." I say, but even to my ears this simple word sounds false.

Her brows knit together and her lips thin into a line of frustration. "Fenris?" she asks. I jerk involuntarily at his name and her correct assumption. My hands squeeze into tight fists as I feel the rage boil inside me. Her face changes to become slightly alarmed and I have to physically remind myself to calm down. I take a deep breath, count to five, and slowly let it out. I do this about five or six times and finally I am under control.

"Gone," I say, and hate the pain that resonates in my voice. She sighs with agitation, causing me to look at her curiously. "It was you, wasn't it? That I saw last night?" Her cheeks flush with embarrassment and her eyes avoid my own.

"Yes," she says so quietly that it's barely audible. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" and I wave away her explanation.

"It's alright, Orana. I'm not angry," I tell her. She relaxes, visibly relieved then her expression hardens again and she is…angry? This display of emotion throws me, especially from her, and I am about to open my mouth to ask her when she blurts out, "He is such a coward."

I stare at her, confused by the remark. "Coward?"

She seems to gather herself then and reddens again. "Sorry mistress. I meant no disrespect."

I laugh, because I can't help it. "Don't be sorry. I hardly know what to feel anymore." I make my way to the bed, sobering with the hollowness that now exists in my heart. When I sit down a puff of air wafts up from the bed, filling my nose with his scent, the pain is instantaneous and I am forced to close my eyes for just a moment. "I won't take offence," I continue in a much more solemn voice, "since my choice of sexual partners is sorely misguided."

She huffs and looks away, placing a discarded piece of clothing on the table. She comes over to lean against one of the banisters that surrounds my bed, wrapping her arms around it and looks at me. "Can I ask you a question?" she says shyly. I nod. "Are you a mage?"

The question takes me completely by surprise since I assumed it would be about Fenris. "Um…yes…in a manner of speaking."

"Is there another manner of speaking that I am unaware of?" she asks.

I smile half-heartedly and look down at the floor, leaning forward on my knees. "I suppose not," I say in reply, realizing she doesn't understand metaphors. "And to be straight forward, yes, I am. Although, it's taken me many years to...accept." I can feel it then, as if speaking about it brought it forth again, the tickle of magic at my fingertips.

"But your scar," she says, and I already know the direction of her thoughts.

"You're wondering why I'm not Tranquil." I ask glancing over at her. She nods. I look down at the floor again and sigh. "I'm not exactly sure. I know only that my father performed the Rite years ago; I never lost my… self, just the magic, but for one reason or another, my magic has returned now."

"Your father," she gasps, horror evident in her voice.

I shrug, not because the issue isn't abhorrent to me, or that I am still so angry at my father. It's more that I truly don't understand what could have been going through his head at the time, and maybe I don't want to. But it is difficult to overlook his behaviour towards me when I got older. There was so much love there, and this need to protect me for all of my life. There must have been a reason, a very significant reason. Shaking my head at my own thoughts, I sigh in defeat.

"There must have been a fairly important reason for a mage to make his own daughter Tranquil," she says, echoing my thoughts.

"Yes, I suppose there was." I reply hollowly, still staring at the floor.

"Did he never tell you?" she asks.

"No," and even as I say it I think about the diary that is probably still sitting on the mantel in the library where I left it a few weeks before. Then I bite my lip in thought. It would most likely be in there. And if I am truly to come to terms with the past, I must read it.

"I am sorry about Fenris," she says after a few silent moments. I scowl at the floor, bitterness making its reappearance but say nothing. I don't want to talk about him. It hurts too much. I hope she will drop the subject but she continues, "I understand why he did, though."

My head whips in her direction, "What is that supposed to mean," I snap. She cringes at the harshness of my words and takes a wary step backwards.

I take a slow deep breath and calm my features if not my temper. "Please Orana," I say slowly, although the sharp edge of my words is still evident, "tell me why you said that."

She eyes me for a few moments then seems to decide. "Fenris did not know me, but I knew him," she pauses then corrects herself, "or knew of him. He was Danarius' pet and his protection. He's more than just muscle. His markings, his abilities are…a sort of doorway to the Fade that can be opened and closed at will, or can be in the right hands."

She pauses while I process this. Almost without thought my mind pulls up the mingling of spirit that I am sure I felt last night. Right on the tail end of this comes the pain and the fury of betrayal. Tears prick my eyes, and I tighten my fists until my nails leave deep half-moon indentations in my palm. It feels so real as if his fist is in my chest again, squeezing until I think my sanity will break. I hold onto that anger to keep from losing myself entirely and slowly the world comes back into focus. "That's why..." and my voice cracks with sudden dryness.

"That's why a part of you probably feels at home with him, I think," she says and smiles at me wistfully. I can't smile back. "It's also why he most likely will never leave you."

"But he did leave," I say hoarsely, the pain so evident that I wish I had just stayed quiet, "just as he left Danarius."

She shakes her head, "You don't understand."

I frown. "Then by all means, defend him."

Orana grows quiet for a while after this, perhaps remembering some past pain, I don't know. But she doesn't leave so I continue to give her my full attention. She sighs loudly, as if deciding something, then continues. "Danarius was…" She shudders visibly, "He was powerful, so powerful and frightening. Terrifying. He would torture people for the sheer joy it brought him. I was bound to Hadriana, and am thankful for that small blessing." I feel the blood drain from my face. To be thankful to be a slave to that psychotic bitch...Maker.

"You don't know what he endured at the hands at Danarius."

"You mean aside from having his memory wiped clean," I say, spitefully, unwilling to let any kind of sympathy take root.

She shakes her head, and by the frightened look on her face I find myself reluctantly curious yet stubbornly silent. However she decides to tell me anyway. "You don't know the things he would do. How he tortured him. And you have to realize Fenris knew nothing else. He believed this was the way all slaves were treated. He never knew happiness, contentment, joy...anything worth living for. Or if he has, it was so short lived or twisted with so many other emotions he may not have even known at the time what it was." She pauses and takes a breath, seeming to collect herself. "Fenris was a well-known marvel among the magisters, and Danarius took great joys in flaunting him about, showing off his abilities." Her face suddenly twists in disgust, and for a moment I am taken aback, making me see the depth of what even she has endured. "He was requested for many times as evening entertainment among the more...perverse mages, but Danarius turned them all down always stating, 'his pleasure is mine and mine alone.'" She shivered visibly. "The only reason I know that is because Danarius had it repeated back to him mockingly many times after Fenris' escape."

"Was it so much worse than how you were treated?" I ask, and then realize how intrusive that must sound. "I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me."

"It's ok," she replies. "Hadriana was murderous, viscous and abusive, but even I had much more freedom than Fenris, who was always by his master's side, despite any tortures he might have endured. I managed to find love," her face brightens in remembrance then slowly grows sombre, "but I will not see him again for a very long time."

"Who is he?" I ask, my mood brightening expectantly. "Maybe we can find him somehow."

She shakes her head and looks away out my window. "I will not see him again until I shed this mortal coil." Her eyes tear and she looks down at the ground. "He was killed by Danarius inadvertently in some blood magic ritual.

My stomach twists. "Maker. Are all mages in Tevinter like them?" I ask, trying to imagine walking into that nest of vipers.

She shrugs, "I don't know. Slaves aren't exactly allowed out that much."

"How do you know all of this about him?" I ask.

She glances sideways at me and a sly smile forms on her lips. "Servants talk, Mistress. And my father knew him much better than I did. His escape was a much gossiped thing."

I am silent for a while after that, my mind travelling down so many threads of thought that Orana goes about her business tidying my room and the adjoining wash room. Then it occurs to me that she never actually answered my original question. "Orana," I call. "Why do you think he will never leave? I mean, Danarius continues to pursue him, poisoning his mind even being as far away as he is." I pause, trying to hide the sour look that now vies for dominance on my face. Closing my eyes only for an instant, I give up and all the resentment, contempt, and fury of the last twenty four hours reflects in my demeanour. "He hates mages." I hiss spitefully. "He said what we did was a mistake. A mistake!" I shout the last, as the traitorous tears spill from my eyes. I grind my teeth and a wave of righteous anger quickly rises to replace my sorrow.

She watches me for a few heartbeats from the doorway, her eyes empathetic and sad. "There was a reason I was chosen to make the trip to find Fenris," she says and pauses. I stare at her completely at a loss of where she is going with this. "No servant they have ever brought into their household is simply… normal. All of us were sympathetic in some way to magic. I was brought because I have something of a sixth sense to lyrium. I can…" her lips purse in thought and she glances at the floor, "feel it in people." And then she looks back up. The way she says feelsounds like a question more than a statement, as if this is not the best word to describe it. "My father could too, but not to my degree. Fenris, as you could imagine, resonates at a much different pitch than most because of the amount he carries, I suppose. And when he activated it, I could feel it light up in my mind like a beacon. It is much harder to determine with the increase in distance but, say within a city, he stands out." At this she looks away and mutters to herself. "You complicated matters though."

I adjust myself on the bed, folding my legs and regard her peculiarly. "How so?"

Her lips form a frown and she shifts uncomfortably on her feet. "You changed his pitch. Changed it so dramatically that I wasn't sure what happened. I thought perhaps he had died, since I could no longer find him in the city. Hadriana didn't believe me."

"I…what?"

She looks at me as if she is trying to figure me out. "You changed his pitch…sometime just before we arrived on the outskirts of Kirkwall, and then again last night."

At this point I am completely flabbergasted at what this has to do with the original question. "What do you mean changed his pitch? What does this have to do with him not leaving?"

Her head cocks to the side, resembling my mabari almost perfectly when I do something particularly curious. "It's kind of like listening to a melody," she explains. "Most mages give off similar melodies. I don't know if it has something to do with the lyrium or perhaps their connections to the Fade or what it is. Fenris was much different until a few weeks ago when it changed dramatically. Hadriana would have found him sooner, been able to pinpoint his exact location but I couldn't locate him. I realize now it had changed to blend with yours. At the time Hadriana thought I was lying and so she had my father used in their blood magic ritual as a means to persuade me." Her eyes darken and she looks far away.

A small stab of guilt surges through me at this. But it isn't my fault. I know that. She knows that. But somehow I still feel partially responsible. "I'm sorry," I mumble.

She focuses on me and looks rather astounded at my words. "Sorry? For Hadriana's actions?" she shakes her head. "No mistress. She has answered the price for that."

I am silent for a few moments, trying to collect my thoughts. "So, I changed it," I say, repeating her in disbelief.

She nods, "After last night, it now blends with your own so perfectly that I can no longer tell the two of you apart. You…purified it," she says, almost reverently. "I didn't realize that what Danarius did to Fenris, he probably did on purpose to be able to locate him and probably cause him great pain when needed. Fenris now will be almost impossible to pinpoint because you changed it to blend with yours."

I shake my head. "But then it will just be a matter of finding me or him then," I say. "That's not so difficult. And I am sure Danarius has some idea what happened."

She nods in acquiescence but then states, "That would be true but you…" and she reaches out a hand and closes her eyes, "manipulate yours somehow so it is constantly changing minutely to blend with the world around you. And his pitch responds to yours as if answering a call. You are practically impossible to track. At least in the means I am accustomed to. It will be hard for Danarius as well."

"Well, Fenris will be pleased to hear that." I say bitterly and glare at the filthy, dark fireplace.

"He won't leave you," she whispers quietly. I look up at her and stare. "His lyrium and connection to the Fade are so blended with your own that he won't want to."

"So I've…enslaved him?" I respond, horrified.

She shakes her head. "That's not what I mean. Last night I saw what you two mean to each other."

I snort in derision at this and look away, doing my best to ignore the hole that throbs like a second heart beat in my chest. "Really? All I saw was regret."

"That is not what I mean," she states again more firmly. "You were naturally drawn together before because of what his nature is. But now your abilities have coalesced, providing strength for one what the other lacks. I can feel it. His essence hums about you just as yours clings to him. I really didn't know it was possible," and her voice trails off. "Perhaps it was what Danarius originally intended Fenris for but could never manage. I don't know," she adds in an almost half-whisper.

My gaze shifts back to the floor as I wonder how I will ever stand being around him. I already feel like I am gasping for air that won't come, grasping for threads that fray in my hands as my entire body tingles with awareness, feeling shocked and alive for the first time. How will I ever survive this…delirium? Dimly I remember a conversation with Anders.

"But sometimes you wanted to, just to know that you could, just to get lost, however momentary, in that delirium, that mind consuming sickness that is love. You would welcome the opportunity to have your heart ripped out just to remember that you could." He laughed and shook his head. "I must sound like a fool to you."

"No," I whispered. "Not at all."

I just never imagined how momentary it would be. I never thought love could twist so painfully until it almost felt as if my heart was being ripped out and yet the pain doesn't stop.

"LEANDRA!" comes the yell from down stairs, nearly making us both jump in alarm. I hear my uncle start to accost Sandal who soon begins to wail incoherently. Scowling, I tighten my robe and head down to the living room

"Leandra! Where is she?" he shouts at Sandal who now looks ready to throw a rune at him. Remembering our trip to the Deep Roads and the monstrous ogre that was frozen on the spot, I am half tempted to wait to see if the same thing happens. Then think about my mother's face coming home to find her brother frozen in her living room. Probably not a good idea.

"Uncle, he can't talk," I say testily.

When he catches sight of me his anxiety seems to lessen somewhat making my heart jump, he is really worried about something. "Where is your mother? We were supposed to meet this morning and she never came."

I frown. "I don't know," I say quizzically, trying to recall the last time I've seen her. "I haven't seen her since…" and my voice trails off. Bohdan comes into the room and I immediately ask him. "Bohdan, when was the last time you saw my mother?"

"Yesterday Messere, while you were still out. She got a note with the lilies that came yesterday."

The white lilies…Then, like a warhammer to the temple it hits me. The blood completely drains from my face and nausea turns my stomach. Emeric murdered by shades, Gascard, the woman. But Gascard wasn't the killer, I am positive on that count, which means he must still be out there.

"Oh no," I mumble and run to get my things and get out of the house. I need to find Gascard.