Quoquo modo victoriam, vitam tibi poena.- Victory at any cost, will cost you your life.

Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels.
Francisco de Goya

Hawke was hiding from her elf. That was the reason she was here, she'd as much as said it. She didn't want to see him. Why? Who cares? Anders most certainly did not. She was beautiful. And an apostate like himself, she had a knack for whatever she put her mind to, it seemed, and that included healing. She didn't agree with his assessment though. "If I were good, I could have saved my father."

"It's a rare mage who can heal the Wasting, Hawke." He said, voice low.

"I am a rare mage." She declared, "And I wasn't good enough."

With sympathy, Anders patted her arm. "Here, I can teach you to use herbs. It won't cure it, but..."

"My father is dead, Anders, herbs won't help him where he is."

"Just in case, then. These will cure just about any poison known to man, and if you get hungry, they make a good salad topper."

Rolling her eyes, Hawke took the pouch, and attached it on the inside of her robe. "There, happy?"

"Happy." He agreed.

"Aaaand now I have to ruin the moment."

"I knew this was coming."

"So… you're an abomination."

"I know it seems like that, but it's really not. Justice is a spirit of the fade, not an evil demon."

Hawke sighed, "I've spoken with Demons who don't seem like demons, too, Anders. In fact, I've seen the same Desire demon nightly for years, Opta. And the same Pride demon for almost my entire life. He hasn't told me his name, just Pride. I can't get them to leave me alone."

"Don't suppose it's as simple as killing them?"

"No." She said. "No, it's not."

"Justice isn't a demon." The mage folded his arms, "He's… he was my friend. And he was trapped outside the fade, so, I let him in. He would have died, otherwise. It might have been worse, though, what I did. He's not really my friend Justice anymore… my anger… has warped him. He's vengeance now."

"Right, well, Vengeance certainly isn't a good, happy emotion, now is it? It's more akin to pride and desire than anything good."

The mage blanched at her words, "How can you say that?"

"What? That you were wrong for taking your friend Justice and twisting him into the evil thing living within you?" She shrugged as the male mage's eyes began to light up. His skin seemed to fracture just a bit. "Simple. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. You wanted to help a friend? You failed. What you ended up doing was more hurtful than death would have been."

Anders stepped back, "Why are you…"

"I'm holding a mirror for you. Correct yourself before you become what you seek to destroy- cruel oppression."

"You need to leave, now." He said, his voice harsh and breathy, "Go."

"Very well." She said, "I am not opposed to wise and strong mages being free. I am opposed to stupid desperation being loosed against an unknowing populace. Blood mages and abominations are not acceptable. Quoquo modo victoriam, vitam tibi poena."

As she left Anders, and he slumped to the ground, Justice reminded him, 'Nam si non ego causa mori sum indignus.' Anders repeated the words of affirmation with a weak voice, "If I am unwilling to die for my cause, I am unworthy of it."

Not five minutes later, a snarling elf made his way to where he sat. "Where is she?" He asked, his rough voice shattering the calm Anders had hastiy established.

"I don't know who you are speaking of?"

"Nugatarys," He spat, "Do not lie to me."

"What is a nugatarys?"

The elf sneered, "A trifling little man who thinks that diversionary tactics will serve him well against a broadsword."

"Who are you talking about? Hawke?"

"Yes."

"I sent her away… moments ago. I don't know where she went, hands off."

"If she has come to harm, I will return." The elf turned and stalked out, to continue his search.

In a fit of pettiness, Anders made a face and mimicked Fenris. "Ass."

…

. .

…

"Where have you been?" He snarled as she appeared before him.

"Busy, Fenris."

"Busy does not equate to a month without sleep, or actively avoiding me during our waking hours."

She pursed her lips, "Leave it be."

"No." He growled advancing on her, then pushing her into the wall he'd just conjured for the purpose.

"Leave me alone." She bit back, "Get off."

He let his hands drop, but he stayed where he was, hardly inches away from her. "Why?" He asked, voice grating against that ugly thing Varric had awoken nights ago. "Why avoid me? I thought you said you needed… I thought you cared for me?"

She looked away from him. "Get away."

He begun to boil, but he stepped back. "Tell me." He pleaded. "What has changed?"

"A lot." She answered softly. "Go away, Fenris."

"No. I promised you that I would stay at your side, and I will not-"

She pushed him back, and he stumbled, trembling at the force. She had not used mere physical prowess, she had used magic. The slave in him cowered pitifully, wanted him to beg. He kept his mouth shut just barely, and through the most impressive display of will power. "I said, go."

He slunk back a few steps, wounded. "Rae?" He called against his will, "Please."

She blinked at him furiously, "Get away from me, Fenris!
"Just… please, Li'rae, tell me why."

"I can't." She snapped. "Now, go."

Something about her words soothed him. Bitter and reluctant though they were, there was tenderness. "Li'rae-" He moved toward her, intent on touch, on something- but she hit him with force magic again, and his inner slave wailed at the betrayal, "Why?" He snarled advancing doggedly. "What have I done to make you hate me so?

"Nothing."

He leveled his gaze inches from hers, "Then explain to me why you make me feel as I do, make promises with your lips and fingertips, ask more of me than I can give, and then, when I finally come to you, when I am ready to weather any storm at your side, when I can fulfill my desire to touch you without fear, why do you then you push me away as roughly as trash. Do you wish me to beg?"

Something of tenderness crept into her eyes, "Never."

He pressed his hands against her face, and claimed her mouth with his own. He let the pleasure course over him like fire, and light his core, "Rae." He growled against her lips, "Why?"

She shuddered, "Fenris, I-"

Footsteps echoed across the fade, as a large pride demon appeared. "Well, hello." It said, "You are a difficult one to track, small wolf."

Fenris' eyes widened.

"Lady Pride." Li'rae called softly, "How goes it?"

The female demon swivvled her head to level a glare at Hawke. "Well, if it isn't the lady mage." She said mock bowing. "What brings you to my neck of the Fade?"

"Sleep." She answered.

"Ahh, yes, of course. Well, I have business with this dreamer, so-"

"No, you do not. Fenris is not a toy, and he is not a bargaining chip."

"I made a deal with his master. He will return, or I will not be able to claim my prize."

"You will not be able to claim that prize, Lady Pride."

"Perhaps I could bargain with you for him then? I have many creatures under my command, many handsome things with no baggage, no foolish fears… I could trade you."

Fenris looked to Li'rae in horror. Her face was passive, "He is not for sale." She said flatly.

"Everything is for sale, sweet." The demon purred, "And everything has a price."

"Not him." She snapped, "And not me."

"Then there is nothing for it, but to fight."

"I suppose you're surprised." Li'rae chided, "I'm not." She threw a mountain of ice upon the large, melted demon, and then, without further ado, she swung a mighty blow into the creature's face, punctuated it with a fist of rock, and a burning storm. "Never threaten my friends." She said as she raised the beast up and slammed it down, shattering it into a thousand shards. Then, she gazed at Fenris, "Good morning." She said just as she disappeared.

…

. .

…

When he awoke, he had a tightness in his chest, made of anger and residual pain. She had attacked him. He knew… he remembered her hitting him. She had been angry. Magic. A demon. His chest constricted to the point he could hardly breathe. She had attacked him with magic. There may have been a demon involved. He named the feeling he was assailed with "Betrayal."