So, I'm completely engrossed with my newest story-Destiny's arrow-right now. It's literally all I can think about while I'm writing (sad life of every writer. No telling when inspiration will hit or miss). As such, updates will probably come a little slower for this-but not by much. I'll try to keep a chapter going up every week (and since I've posted this now, I will feel compelled to do it. Cheers for psychology! XD). If you're a fan of the Hobbit/Lord of the Rings and Dragon Age, check out the aforementioned story if you have time. I'm thoroughly enjoying it, and I feel like I'm actually doing a better job writing it.

A huge thanks to those who are following, favorited, and/or reviewed this story. And of course, thank you to the silent lurkers! You are awesome! :)

HAWKE

It is half past noon when Anders, Varric, Fenris, Serena and I depart Kirkwall, our intended destination: the Wounded Coast. The sun blazes brightly over us despite the Free Marches entering mid-fall. The dry heat I'm not accustom to dances on my skin like a mischievous imp in the moonlight, only being cooled by the occasional ocean breeze that sweeps over us, swirling the fine white sand that rests beneath our feet.

"Blasted sand, I just got these boots too…" Varric grumbles from the back, and I hear him click his tongue.

I glance back at the others, prepared to make a joke, only to see a peculiar sight.

While Varric is quickly trying to brush some sand off of his boots and Anders is looking out at the water, the two elves are staring down at the ground, both their ears twitching and deep scowls on their faces. They appear to be listening to something.

Before I can open my mouth to ask what troubles them, they both stop.

"We're surrounded," Fenris growls and reaches for his great sword.

No sooner do the words leave his mouth than an arrow descends from the small hill to our left, barely grazing my hair and striking the ground.

Two heavily armored men with swords and shields round the corner of the path up ahead, and two more run up and block our group from behind. Up above, three men glare down at us, two in leather armor with longbows drawn and the other wearing a grey robe holding an ornate silver staff.

Varric swiftly unholters Bianca and cocks the trigger, his eyes on the archers up above. I grasp onto my sword as well and prepare for whatever is to come.

"This as far as you go, elves," the robed man sneers at us, his beady black eyes fixated on Serena and Fenris. "Surrender or your companions lives are forfeit."

"More hunters..." Fenris snarls and lowers his stance, his face scrunching up like an angry mabari hound. "Probably the leftovers."

I shake my head and sigh, recalling the chaos with Hadriana only a couple weeks ago. "You'd think they'd learn by now…"

"This is your last warning," the leader hollers and the armored men surrounding us take a few steps closer.

A loud twanging sound rings in my ears as Bianca lets loose a bolt straight into one of the archer's throat. "How's that for a warning?" Varric shouts and the archer slumps to the ground.

The leader frowns at the dwarf. Wrinkles form crevices on his forehead and threaten to overlap. Without shifting his gaze from Varric, he raises his staff high in the air. "Capture the elves! But don't kill them," he orders, and the mage creates a blue barrier around himself. "We need them alive!"

Immediately the other archer collapses at the leader's feet as another bolt is released from Bianca, this time piercing the man right between the eyes and earning a hearty praise from Varric.

Fenris then roars and jumps into battle with the two men in the back—Varric and Anders lending their ranged assistance from the side.

Serena and I engage the enemy up front. Our weapons clash as both of us fend off one attacker each. In one quick push, Serena shoves her opponent backward and slices the man's head clear off his shoulders, sending his blood flying everywhere and painting the sand red. "You think it will be that easy?" she snaps and glares up at the leader.

I glance up at the top of the hill, my sword locked with my opponents. The leader's lips form a firm line and he holds his free hand out, never looking away from the young elf. Three armored men come out into sight from behind him. My eyes open wide and a word comes out of my mouth before I fully realize what's happening, "Templars?" I mutter.

Glinting under the sunlight, the three templars step in front of their master. They let out a mighty roar that echoes through the sky, cleansing the immediate area in front of them in a burst of blue light.

Anders gasps and falls to his hands and knees beside Varric, noticeable trembles racking through his lean body. Serena jolts and kneels down as well, her hands balling into fists as her face is angled towards the ground.

Panic rips through me, chilling both my heart and body. With a loud and desperate shout, I shake my sword free from my opponent and impale the man in the stomach and then tear it back out, guts and all. I take a quick step toward Serena, anxious to help her, but then she moves—so fast I can barely track it.

She dashes up the hill and leaps, landing right in front of the templars. I hear only a faint snicker and then she makes a sweeping motion with her arms. Large shards of ice appear in mid-air and stab through the chests of all three templars, ending their lives before they can even try to call upon their Maker.

The leader's jaw drops and he takes a few steps back, mouth agape. "W-What? No, it's not possible," he stammers.

"Oh, but it is," Serena purrs, a white mist settling around her arms. She then sprints forward and pins the leader to the ground, disappearing out of our direct line of sight.

Fenris and I rush up there, leaving Varric to care for the currently incapacitated Anders. At the top of the hill, Serena is straddling the man, one hand grasping at his clothes and the other raised at a height so that the blade of her scythe is positioned carefully at his neck. "Did you honestly think you could subdue me with a few meager templars, shem?" she yells, a feral look raging in her eyes. "If so, my act at the docks must've been sublime. Either that or you're simply more foolish than I thought. Moreover, you have the gall to try and capture me? Creators, you're piling one death wish on top of another aren't you? Should I send you to your ancestors now, or torture you a bit first myself?"

"Don't kill me. I'm only here on orders," the mage barks, profound fear reflected in his wide, black eyes.

"Who's orders?" she shouts and shakes him.

"I don't know," he replies. "We originally came her with Hadriana for the elf over there." He motions with his eyes to Fenris. "A few months ago I received another—the one for you. The man and woman didn't give me a name but they paid a lot of coin up front. All I know is that they were foreigners—one from Tevinter and the other Fereldan."

"What did they look like?" she persists.

"The male was another magister—very wealthy. He had connections with the Divine. The woman was younger, said she was from a town called Haven."

Serena pauses and her form relaxes slightly. "Haven, Tevinter, and the Divine, hm?" she murmurs and her gaze narrows. She then scoffs and grabs the man by his collar, lifting him up and moving her face to his. "Tell me. Did they inform you as to why they were looking for me?" she snarls.

"N-No," he stutters and shakes his head. "They wouldn't say."

Serena stares at him as if somehow testing the validity of his words. After a long moment, she lets out a deep breath and closes her eyes. "Very well," she grumbles and shoves him back. Without looking at him again, she stands up and walks past me, leaving the terrified man lying on the ground. "Hawke, I leave you to his fate. You decide," she says.

I raise an eyebrow at our angsty Tevinter elf. "Fenris?"

He smirks and steps forward. "With pleasure."

Shifting my eyes away, a quick yelp sounds behind me as Fenris no doubt crushes the man's heart between his armored fingertips. When the deed is done, Anders and Varric have just made their way up the hill to meet us and Serena starts to walk away. "Serena, wait," I call to her.

She stops and slowly faces us, no hint of emotion apparent on her face.

"You're… a mage?" I ask, but the words I use feel wrong and insufficient.

The corners of her lips curl up into a faint, noticeable smile, but her eyes remain completely devoid of emotion—similar to a dark empty abyss. "Unless suddenly summoning a fire ball from your hands is considered normal," she says and a ball of fire appears in her hand. "Yes. Yes, I am."

I stare at the flame and blink a few times, the words not fully registering even after repeating them perhaps a dozen times in my head. When they make enough impact on me to realize I have to respond, I dig one of my hands into my hair and tilt my head to the side—an attempt to cope with my building frustration. "Why didn't you say anything?" I manage to utter after the brief silence.

She shrugs and the flame vanishes. "You never asked?"

I cross my arms and raise my chin slightly as I look at her, my signal that she best spill the true reason and fast.

Her slender fingers push a few stray dark hairs behind her pointed ear, an awkward habit I've noted from her in the past. "It can't be that shocking is it?" she asks. "Or did you forget that mages run among the Dalish?"

"No… I just…"

Words fail me.

Noticing my struggle, Serena sighs and rubs the back of her neck. "My father was the Keeper of my clan before Marathari," she explains grimly. "He was a powerful mage, and my mother a hunter. It was from them I acquired a multitude of… abilities one could say. Magic is one of them."

She pauses and glances down at her palm, a gloomy darkness now hovering over her shoulder like a darkened rain cloud.

"I didn't say anything because it is not something I like to bring up. Magic should only be used for emergency measures, such as healing a companion's fatal injury or when one is weak and completely unarmed while engaged against a dangerous enemy—nothing more. This time was just to scare the weasel's brains out—a rare occurrence mind you—but the blighted rat deserved it. They all did."

She pauses and a distant look passes over her as she looks out in the direction of the sea. "Ah, such fond memories," she whispers, lost in an unknown reverie. A cheerful smile plays at her lips when she returns her gaze on me. "Scared a dwarf so bad he just about pissed himself and passed out once. He was drunk at the time, but it was amusing regardless."

Her attempt at humor is unsuccessful on me at the moment—although I would love to hear the story's details another time, perhaps after this incident has long since passed.

Sensing this, she frowns and grasps at her arm—another one of her awkward habits. "The point I'm trying to make is I apologize that I kept this from you," she says. "But it wasn't out of ill will. Being in Kirkwall, one needs to be careful. You of all people know that."

"I understand that all very well," I insist. "I just…" I sigh and ruffle up my hair. "I don't know. I thought you would tell us, not ambush us with it in the middle of a battle is all."

Serena's eyebrows rise, and then she narrows here eyes with disbelief.

I raise my hands up in the air defensively. "What? Don't look at me like that. I had my suspicions."

"And it doesn't bother you?" she asks.

"No! Of course not. Don't you know me better than that?"

She smiles and puts her hand to her chin. "True. It is you we're talking about here. Possibly the biggest gatherer of misfits around—at least excluding a few others and myself."

Varric clears his throat and captures all of our attention. "Twinkle Toes, I may not be the most touchy-feely dwarf out there," he chimes in, "but a bit of magic won't come between us. We're not the most selective group if you couldn't tell. You acknowledged this fact yourself. But if you ever forget, all you have to do is look around."

He motions to our current group—a great point in all consideration.

As if accepting this, Serena grins and a softness flickers in her eyes. "Ah, Varric. To hear such words from you, I could kiss you," she responds lightheartedly. "Or do I want to caress your chest hair?" she mutters. "I don't rightfully know."

"As… interesting and disturbing as both of those might be to see," I interrupt, and Varric chuckles quietly. "We should move on. We have a mission to finish, and once we're done we can talk about this encounter more in detail. I'm interested to know why these men were after you. And based on your expression earlier, I bet you've already figured it out."

Serena scoffs and the tense air around her returns. "Always the perceptive one, aren't you, Hawke?" she utters, annoyance flickering in her eyes. It vanishes after a brief moment and she smirks. "You should try being oblivious more often. Perhaps more women will swoon for you."

I reach for my heart and my jaw drops. "Ouch. That hurts you know," I joke and Varric and I make our way down the slope to regroup at the path. The others follow behind us and I look down at the dwarf. "Does that actually work?" I ask.

Varric shakes his head and chuckles. "Ah, Hawke. You have much to learn."

FENRIS

"You are… really a mage," I whisper on our way back to Kirkwall, my words directed at Serena, who's walking quietly at my side. The others are a few paces ahead, enough to be out of ears reach.

She looks over at me then shifts her gaze forward. "Yes, I'm fairly certain we established that fact," she replies curtly. "Do you have an issue with it? Do you think I should be locked up in a tower like Bethany? Or that I'm a dangerous abomination like Anders?"

"I… I wouldn't say…"

Serena's eyes widen and she stares at me, completely dumbstruck. "Well… this is unexpected," she whispers. "Here I was expecting—worrying even—that as soon as you found out you'd immediately condemn me like you did the others. But… I've apparently given you pause."

"You.. were worried?" I question, unable to hide the surprise in my voice. "Truly?"

"Of course. No one wants to be hated by their companions, Fenris. I am no exception."

I pause and angle my line of sight to the ground, furrowing my eyebrows in contemplation. "Had I met you and knew you were a mage at the start, perhaps what you feared would be true," I mutter, considering my spiteful behavior in the past. "But I have seen you battle. You are a dangerous woman even without magic. And even though you have the ability, you hardly use it. It makes you different from the others. Perhaps that is why I cannot give a firm answer... yet…"

"And glad I am to hear it." Serena pats me on the shoulder.

The contact jolts me out of my thoughts and she laughs, a glimmer of some deeper emotion flickers in her blue-green eyes.

Smiling, she tilts her head towards the others. "Come on. We can talk more about your thoughts on the matter later, but first let's get back to Kirkwall. I have a feeling Hawke's going to have a mouthful…" Saying this, she looks forward, sighs, and strokes her fingers through her dark hair, a shadow of dread casting over her fair face. "Creators, what have I gotten myself into?"