Author's Note: I'm soooooo sorry! Finals, holidays, et cetera... I know, it's no excuse. And this isn't the greatest chapter to apologize with, but I'm also dealing with a bought of writer's block. On a positive note, I've come up with an idea for a sequel. (= And possibly a prequel. I promise I'll finish this one first.

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Four days after our run-in with Hadriana, I was returning to my estate after a day spent in the clinic. I wasn't much help as I had no magical abilities, but I hunted down some ingredients and mushed them together into less-than-professional salves. Anders said he liked to have me around, not that we had much of an opportunity to talk with the regular stream of patients.

It was dark out but I had donned light armor over my tunic before leaving Darktown. I didn't like to use the secret passage from Darktown through the estate's basement unless it was absolutely necessary. The less frequently it was used, the less likely it was to be discovered. I had no opposition to walking, though I did make sure to try and keep to the paths that were guarded by Aveline's men and women. I reached the door of my estate without incident and entered to dull candlelight and a dozing Bodahn. His adopted son sat by the fire, petting Calenhad rather vigrously. The Mabari didn't seem to mind.

At the sound of my footfalls, Bodahn started and sat up immediately, "Oh, Mistress Hawke, I didn't-"

"Enchantment?" Sandal asked, grinning. I laughed a little and patted his head as I moved into the main room of the house, making for my desk to check for letters.

"What didn't you, Bodahn?" I asked offhandedly, not entirely concerned. He seemed to think every household task was an immense, life-changing thing. If he had forgotten to make dinner, I would eat an apple and stale bread. It would not be the first time.

"Mistress?" Another voice, higher and feminine, spoke from the corner. I jumped – Orana, the blond elf that we had somewhat saved from the caves, stepped more into the light. I wasn't quite used to her presence yet, though it was hardly an unfortunate one.

"Andraste's knickers," I shook my head, "You would think that I'd be more used to be snuck on. I-"

"Oh, Mistress, I'm sorry-"

"Don't worry about it, Orana, no harm done. Now, excuse me just one moment – Bodahn, what were you going to say?"

He looked somewhat red in the face, as though it was paining him not to speak. Finally, all in one breath, he let out, "I didn't make dinner."

I snorted rather loudly and then coughed to cover it, trying desperately not to laugh. "I'm not particularly hungry, so it's probably best that way. Did the three of you eat?"

"Enchantment!" Sandal nodded vehemently and pointed to Orana. I raised my eyebrow at her, smiling.

"I..oh... I just made a little soup, something Papa used to make..."

"Well, good on you, Orana. It's probably best that you've joined us, I think Bodahn might have been at his wit's end with me."

"Oh, no, no, Mistress! Nothing like that," Bodahn shook his head, trying to dispel such thoughts.

"I was only joking, Bodahn. I can't imagine you're upset about the help, though. Oh, this reminds me." I took my coin purse from my swordbelt and put it on my desk. There were several different coins and it jingled somewhat loudly. "Orana, I would like you to take what you think you deserve but I will not accept you taking less than one gold piece. Bodahn, I would also like you to start paying yourself. Don't even think about disagreeing with me. Think of it as a savings fund for Sandal, if nothing else."

Both Bodahn and Orana looked aghast at my suggestion, to which I could only laugh. "When you two have figured it out, I would very much like a bath – if it isn't too late."

"Oh, no, no, Mistress. I'll start it right away," Orana scurried off to put water over the fire. I shook my head.

"Sandal," the boy turned to me and I bent my knees to bring my eyes level with his, "You're in charge while I go change. You make sure your papa and Orana take their fair share, understand?"

He nodded, though I don't know if he really did know what I meant or not. "Enchantment," he smiled and stood up, dusting his hands off on his pants or perhaps dusting his pants off with his hands. I saw him move over to the desk as I began to climb the stairs and supposed that he did, indeed, know what I meant.

I was drying myself off after a gloriously warm bath, a knock sounded on the bathroom door.

"Mistress?" It was Orana.

I wrapped my towel around my middle – no, it wasn't particularly proper. Aside from offending Orana I didn't think I would do much harm. I moved to the door and opened it enough to speak to her. "Yes?"

Her already large eyes widened even more and she ducked her head. "Oh, Mistress, I'm sorry."

"It was my choice, I would just prefer not to talk to you through a door. What is it?"

"There's someone here to see you."

"Do you know whom?"

She shook her head and her cheeks colored, most likely embarrassed that she hadn't asked.

"It's no matter. Tell whomever it is that I will be down in a moment, please."

Orana nodded and I closed the door over, dressing quickly and running a towel through my hair again in an effort to get it to stop dripping.

Minutes later, I was hurrying down the stairs when I noticed no one in the main room. "Hello?" I called as I came to the solid ground. I had left my daggers in my room. Curse it.

Presumably, Bodahn and Sandal were sleeping. Calenhad had been in my bedroom when I had last seen him but where had Orana gotten off to? Certainly she wouldn't leave a guest on their-

A shock of white appeared in the dark doorway that led to the entrance of my estate. Fenris stood before me, his normal brooding looking amplified.

"Fenris? What-"

"I've found her."

My immediate reaction was that Fenris hadn't been my original guest and whomever it had been had murdered Orana. I pushed past him into the dark foyer and searched for a body to no avail.

"What in Thedas are you doing, Hawke?"

"Look-" I stopped, huffing a little as I ran my hand back through my hair and moved back towards the fireplace. "You weren't talking about Orana, were you?"

"The blond elf?"

I nodded.

"No, she ran off when she relayed your message."

"You are kind of scary," I laughed a little. He didn't.

"Hawke, this is serious. I think I've found my sister."

I stopped and turned away from the flames, looking at the ex-slave. I had no idea what to say to him. Congratulations?

"What...do you intend to do?"

"That's why I've come," he took a step closer, rubbing his forehead with one hand, "I don't always agree with you, but you are usually...right. Part of me wants to contact her but part of me doesn't want to know."

I nodded. That I could understand. After half a moment, I shrugged a little. "If you don't search her out, won't you always wonder?"

He was silent for a long while and I leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. I watched him without a word, though with concern. Finally, he looked at me with a frown.

"What if it's a trap?"

"Then you'll get to kill Danarius, most likely. Either way, you get to confront someone about your past."

"You mean-"

"Don't be an idiot, Fenris," I pushed off of the wall, hands moving to my hips. "If you want me with you, I won't be anywhere else."

The white-haired elf was silent again and his arms folded in front of him, eyes narrowed a little as he looked at me. Finally he nodded and turned on his heel, "I will send word when I receive more information."

"I suspected as much. I'll make sure Bodahn keeps an eye out for any missives from you."

Fenris stopped at the door, his hand pushing it out into the street. He turned a little, his head curved over his slender shoulder. "Hawke?"

I raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

And again, he nodded. I smiled as he turned his back to me and stepped out onto the stones of the Hightown street. "Your welcome," I laughed a little as the door closed behind him and I moved back towards my bedroom.

While we waited on our contacts to inform us about Fenris' sister, we went on about our lives. It was almost a week later that Merrill asked me to her home.

I had seen the mirror before, though I hadn't paid much attention to it. The Dalish artifact that we had gotten for her hadn't worked and that was pretty much all I knew about it – I wasn't too familiar with Dalish history or their practices and I think, wisely, Merrill had neglected to tell me some very pertinent information.

She was very lucky that Varric had insisted on coming with me.

"Hawke... I need...there's a demon."

I blinked.

"He's the one-"

"You made a deal with a demon?" My voice cracked. Varric put his hand on my left arm to keep it from reaching for my weapons, though I had the presence of mind not to.

"It's why I started practicing bloo-"

"No."

"But Hawke-"

"NO!" I roared, breaking away from Varric and coming up on Merrill. I was somewhat tall for a woman and therefore a giant to the petite elf girl. I did not raise a hand to her, though I was intimidating enough without it I imagine. "I will not help you use blood magic."

"There's nothing-"

"Daisy, I wouldn't-"

"There's nothing wrong with blood magic?" I finished for her with a derisive snort. "Right, Merrill. Because we've ever met a blood mage that hasn't gone completely insane. Maybe, if there was proper training for it? I don't know, I don't pretend to know – all I know is that nothing good has ever come from it, and I won't be a party to what you're suggesting. I also cannot promise how kindly I will take to the idea that you or any of our companions go, though I don't know that you could convince anyone to go along except maybe Varric."

"Is that a threat, Hawke?" Merrill asked, eyes wide but her voice dark. I had stepped back from her and then I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head.

"No, Merrill. But this is: the next time you practice or even so much as mention blood magic in front of me, I will not be held accountable for my actions."

I didn't wait around to see what she or Varric had to say to this. My vision was blurred with anger and I spun around, moving quickly though not silently from her house into the Alienage. I stalked to the Hanged Man without a look behind me.

I sat, somewhat brooding, in a dark corner of the Hanged Man with a large mug of ale clutched in both hands. Eyes cast down into the murky liquid, I made a face. Fenris was intent to kill a blood mage and Merrill wanted to become one. Or, rather, become a better one. Then again, I imagined that Fenris wouldn't have minded killing everyone that possessed some form of magic, which I most definitely didn't agree with. I didn't understand - and still don't, really - why so many people had to see the world in such stark black and white colors. Cullen, a templar, concerned me occasionally with his unspoken opinions about mages. Sure, he helped me to keep Bethany safe but that was most likely because of our relationship. In fact, it was probably the only reason he hadn't turned in my companions as well. Anders...well, if there was a way to make everyone have magic he probably would have done it just to shake things up. Varric was probably the only person I knew that had any sense in his head and even then, he was easily swayed by his loyalties.

What about me, though? Why did I believe the way I did? My father, most likely - he had always been opposed to blood magic. Also, he had been very adamant that the Chantry wasn't all wrong. Magic was meant to serve man, not to rule him - in the sense that a mage's power shouldn't go to his head, not that mages should be subservient to non-magical individuals. The idea was that magic was a tool given to men by the Maker, not that mages were given to their fellows to be used. No one seemed to understand that, though. Sometimes I lost sight of it too, so frustrated was I that so many mages seemed to be turning to blood magic. It wasn't entirely their fault and I knew it; when an animal is backed into a corner, it attacks. When a human is forced to the brink, they will do the same. With mages, that means doing anything they need to so that they can escape - even if it means succumbing to demons. A man that is proficient with a sword that has never killed before will take another man's life if he threatens the swordsman's family.

Why couldn't other people see that too? The only difference between a man with magic and a man with a sword is the tool with which he works.

With a groan, I downed my ale and stared into the mug as if it would magically refill. I picked it up again before dropping it unceremoniously. Leaving behind a few coins, I left the Hanged Man for the streets of Lowtown. There was nothing for me there. Or, it felt, much of anywhere.