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Hawke felt the enemy's nose crunch under the weight of her elbow as she slammed it into his face. The dwarf stumbled backwards, clutching the source of the flowing blood and released her from his grip. She then ploughed her fist into the cheek of the assailant before her and he crumpled to the floor.

Hawke was no fool; she knew they were outnumbered... not to mention unarmoured and unarmed. It was only a matter of time before she and Alistair would be overwhelmed by the superior numbers of the enemy.

But until the second she could no longer lift her arms, she would make the bastards pay. She would give no quarter.

Not until they were together again.

"Hawke! To your right!"

Hawke dodged the huge hammer that was aimed for her and stepped into range as the dwarf struggled with his balance. She tackled her attacker to the ground and planted a few heavy fists until his struggling ended.

She got to her feet again quickly and reached for the hammer. It wasn't her usual weapon of choice, but she had no doubt it would do more damage against their sturdy armour than her now bleeding hands.

Hawke felt the muscles in her back tense and swung the weapon around in a full circle. The trembling she felt on the handle told her she had flung more than one of her attackers a few feet.

Hawke looked to Alistair, now armed with a longsword and struggling to hold his own against the number that surrounded him.

She moved to his aid. Within a few swings several of them lay still at the King's feet. "I'm sure the great Warden King can do better than that." She teased as they pressed their backs together, ready to cover each other.

"I'm still only human!" Alistair protested.

"… My mother could do more damage with a kitchen knife… a blunt one." She swung the hammer once more and noted the crunch of armour and bone with some satisfaction.

"To be fair, I wouldn't trust your mother with anything sharp."

"Enough of this!"

A light exploded, and before Hawke could register what had happened she was lying on the damp stone floor with every muscle she had throbbing with intense pain.

She sensed Cormac approaching, his footsteps lighter than those of his dwarven henchmen. Hawke didn't know where her hammer had fallen, but what she did know was how much she wanted to beat the mage to a pulp with her bare hands. But as she tried to launch her attack, her body refused to co-operate.

Fear gripped her.

The dark haired man knelt beside her; the expression of pity that curved his features did nothing to quell the helpless woman's murderous intentions.

He leaned closer and Hawke felt her stomach lurch. Maker! What was he…?

The blonde's breath hitched in her chest when he reached out to stroke her hair.

"Don't touch her!"

Cormac ignored Alistair. "Please, can't you see? Your sacrifice will save lives."

"So will putting an end to you." She hissed. "Maker knows how many innocent lives you have taken because of this madness."

"All necessary." The mage protested. "All those people…. Their blood, their lives were all so we could achieve the greater good. Selfless sacrifice is something that Wardens come to know well…"

"Bullshit! I don't see your corpse on the floor."

Cormac shook his head with a sad smile. "You just don't understand." His hand fell to her cheek, "But how could you? I promise you that you're about to become part of something greater." His head raised to the dwarves still left standing. "Spread out." He ordered. "I'm taking her to the chamber. There are to be no interruptions… do I make myself clear?"

Hawke tried to struggle as the mage lifted her and began towards the door, but her body still wouldn't listen to her desperate cries.

"No, stop!" She heard Alistair call.

"You may as well say your farewells, Alistair, because if you see her again she will not be the woman you know now."

"Please, Cormac…"

Hawke closed her eyes. She was sure she heard a sob break from the fallen King. "No…"

Hawke's heart pounded fiercely. As quickly was her thoughts raced, she couldn't think of what to do. She couldn't move. She couldn't fight. She was completely at her captor's mercy.

The blonde sucked in a breath and called the only name that she could think of. The name of the person she could not bear to never see again.

"Fenris!"

…..

Werner fought to control his heavy breathing.

No doubt about it. Those were lyrium tattoos branded into the elf's skin. A rare commodity indeed… and unique to the Imperium.

He had never seen them himself, of course… only read about them in the tomes his people guarded.

But the arrival of a Tevinter native could only herald one thing… the Imperium had come to reclaim the Goddess.

Well he wouldn't let them have her.

A nagging in the back of his mind told him to be calm. He didn't really believe the voice to be such a divine entity… but the adrenaline that pounded through his blood drowned any thoughts of reason. There was only determination, conviction and blood lust.

This had all been a set-up, it had to have been. First the perfect vessel, then two more Wardens and now a mercenary from Tevinter itself?! Cormac must have something to do with had to.

Had he been planning to steal her from him all this time?! Just waiting until he could send word to the right people, just waiting for time alone with her? With an adequate vessel?

Werner's blood ran cold. It had been a long time since he had known such fear.

He had all but handed Cormac his prize and then turned his back, allowing him to do as he pleased.

The dwarf broke into a run.

Cormac was no doubt putting the soul into the girl's body as he wasted time here contemplating.

Well now, the tables were turned.

Werner was on to the mage's plan.

He would wait and watch whilst the soul was pulled from its prison and placed in its new packaging. Then he would kill Cormac and take his prize.

They would be together finally. And Werner would ensure that it didn't end.

…

"I don't mean to kill you." Cormac assured the young woman in his arms. He felt her tense. She wouldn't understand, but he owed it to her to at least try. "This is fate, don't you see? The Goddess chose you and me to be her champions. Her soul will complete you, and then I will take you home."

"I'm not sure my mother will open the door to an abomination and a psychotic mage, to be honest." The blonde remarked glibly.

Cormac held her tighter. He felt so close to her. Soon, soon she would comprehend the burden he had carried for so long. "Can you imagine how beautiful you will be, carrying such a spirit within your heart? I will return you to Tevinter, and there you will complete your destiny."

He felt her shift and when he looked down he met her steady gaze. Cormac swallowed, suddenly aware of the loveliness he held so close. "I knew it…" She said softly and he gave her a smile. "You are actually as mad as a box of frogs…"

Cormac sighed in aggravation, though he felt relief wash through him as he turned the corner and the calming blue light of the Goddess filled his vision. His placid thoughts were interrupted when he noticed the woman's head did not turn once, not even to acknowledge the shining light that would soon fill her heart.

He followed her gaze to the pile of human bones at the side of the hall. "As I said, sacrifices are required for the greater good."

"As I said, your corpse should be lying next to theirs…" Hawke took in the sight of the smaller bones. Maker… children as well?!

"My death was not the Goddess' will." Cormac replied smoothly.

"There's time." The blonde replied ominously as he set her down at the table.

…..

"It came from down here!" Anders reported, looking down yet another dank and dark passage. The call had undoubtedly been Hawke's. Although he was beyond relieved to finally hear her voice amidst the darkness, his heart still pounded. For Hawke to call out like that… she must really be in trouble…

"We know that." Fenris snapped, pushing forward swiftly though he took time to slow as he asked his question. "Are you fully healed yet, mage?"

The blonde mage was more than a little taken aback by the uncharacteristic display of concern from his former rival for Hawke. "I am much better. Though I must confess I didn't know that you cared…?"

"I don't. I just need you ready to heal Hawke." The elf responded bluntly.

"… why did I bother asking?" Anders grumbled to himself. "Call back Isabella and Varric," he turned to Aveline and Donnic. "We've found the right road."

"Hawke, hold on…" He heard the swordsman whisper.

…..

Cormac felt the warm blood flow slowly down his arms, leaving a familiar sticky trail that he'd come to associate fondly with power.

It had not taken long to silence the young woman. She was now almost perfectly still, lolling gently in the air like a child's discarded doll. She hung in front of the goddess, the soft blue light of his holding spell adding a perfect new texture to the more vibrant light of Niorune's prison.

It had always been difficult to manage the complex currents of magic entailed in this specific ritual, but the mage could feel something different this time. It was easier, for one thing. With the other subjects, it had felt like trying to juggle a camp full of swords one handed, but with Hawke the various elements of the spell just seemed to fall into place.

The magic was working, he was certain. The feeling was euphoric. Like every fibre of his being danced in harmony with the swirls of light surrounding them.

The mage suddenly felt his stomach lurch. It was as if someone had stuck a pin into his spine. The flow of mana was being constrained by something…

His eyes rose to the motionless body in front of him.

Could she resist such a spell? She was no mage, she had no natural talent for such things. He ran through what he knew about her in his head, and found nothing to indicate where she might have learned such a trick. Then he thought about Alistair, and it hit him. The boy had been a Templar before he joined the Wardens, that was why Duncan had been so eager to recruit him. The young King must have shown her a few tricks…

It was futile, of course… but the mental strength with which she strived was undoubtedly impressive. It was no wonder Niorune had chosen her.

Collecting his wits, Cormac hefted his knife and forced it deeper into his arm than he'd ever had to before, revelling in the crimson tide that sprayed forth, and focused more of his magic into the spell.

The newfound power flowed over her resistance like water over a jagged rock. No matter how hard he forced it, he could not erase it, but it mattered not. She could block only a small fraction of the magic; she must know that it was hopeless. She would give in eventually. Erosion took time.

Hawke… Niorune… they were one and the same…

Cormac sucked in a sigh of relief as that lucid ball finally began to descend toward the woman's body. After years trapped down here in the darkness, constantly hearing Her voice frustratingly out of reach… it felt like he was coming home… they would be together…

Excitement over-ruling his better judgement, he pressed out more blood. She would not escape him… she would be his….

"What a surprise… another blood mage."

Shock jolted his concentration from the spell, and Cormac turned, cursing. The white haired elf met his gaze with a look of fury that turned his veins to ice. "I would apologise for interrupting… but you have something that is mine…"