I can only apologise for how long this has taken. I can only say time (and work) ran away with me, but at least it's finally done. I did have an original draft of this mostly completed, but it was from years ago and no longer fit the tone and events of the fic. That led to a rewrite, which is partially why this has taken so long. There are still large chunks of the original draft left in, however, so if the flow seems off in sections, that may be why - if so, let me know so I can correct it!

No warnings for this chapter as far as I'm aware, but if you think differently then please let me know.

After this, I believe there will only be one chapter left, which will be both conclusion and an epilogue of sorts, if I have the pacing right in my head. Part of that is already written, but I won't make any promises on a date seeing as it will probably make a liar of me (again XD)

All I can say is thank you for sticking with me for the four (four!) years this fic has been going, and I hope this chapter is up to scratch. The end is nigh, and I hope it is worth the wait. Thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoy.

They decided to stay in the safe room for now, to recover their strength before making the journey to Isabela's ship. They couldn't cast off for nearly six hours yet anyway, and this was a more secure refuge than a ship in a panicking city.

The mages and freed slaves napped while the others took turns on watch. Even here, hidden underneath the Archon's palace in a room few knew about, they couldn't afford to be careless. Varric's quip about their tale turning from a drama to a tragedy in the final act was enough to remind them that a revolt was occurring above their heads. Isabela's crew were still out there, causing havoc. Several magisters had been killed in the battle; the senate would be thrown into chaos. No one knew if the Archon had survived or not, though most bets were on him living once Fenris and Hawke shared a story of the man's idea of entertainment at a ball. You didn't get to rule the Imperium for as long as Radonis had without knowing how to survive.

While the others talked quietly, Hawke drifted in and out of sleep through the hours. Light dreams danced around the sounds of her friends, blurring the Fade and reality. She could wake if she wanted, knew the option to was just there, but didn't take it. Floating along on her own exhaustion felt wonderful. So when she saw Feynriel, she wasn't too surprised, acknowledging the dream for what it was.

'Ah, finally!' The young elf-blooded mage slumped in relief. 'I've been searching for you. Where are you? Did you get out of the city alright?'

Hawke shook her head, but didn't speak. She was close enough to consciousness that she might speak aloud and wake herself if she tried. She was wondering how to explain things to Feynriel without speaking when the lad's expression brightened and he nodded. 'Not far then! It would have been better for you to have left by now, but we'll make do. Sorry,' he added sheepishly, tapping the side of his head. 'It was quicker to get the answer from you directly. I'll be there soon!' With that he vanished, and with him Hawke's sleep.

Fenris was there when she looked around, bleary-eyed. There were shadows under his eyes, and more lines at their corners than there had been... how long ago, now? The end of Bloomingtide to the start of Harvestmere.

Maker. Barely over four months. Four months and four days, counting today now they were past midnight. Was that all? So short a time for everything that had happened. It seemed impossible, but there it was in the lines of his face and tattoos on his body and ghosts behind his eyes.

He caught her studying him, and those lines smoothed out when he looked at her. There was the man of four months ago. Hawke wondered if her old self was hiding in the hollows of her new face too.

'Hawke?' It was quiet, so as not to disturb the others from their sleep and chatter.

She took a moment just to enjoy that lack of uncertainty in his voice when he said her name. That he knew who she was beyond it, simply chose to call her that rather than having no other option to. Small things, tiny things, but they were what mattered now, in the aftermath.

'I had a dream,' she said, as hushed as he was. 'Feynriel spoke to me, said he'd be here soon. I... think it was real.'

Fenris paused, thinking, then nodded slowly. 'I suppose we will see him then. At least he survived the battle. I may not have agreed with him going to Tevinter, but it was a good thing he did. I would have regretted him dying in this madness.'

Hawke's eyebrows rose. At least no one had banned her from being expressive. 'We are talking about the same Feynriel, right? Half-elven, mage, magister's apprentice, dreamer...?'

Fenris' lips twitched. 'The very same.'

Hawke stared at him a moment, assessing. Finally she gave a simple 'huh' of discovery and nodded. 'What changed your mind?'

Fenris bowed his head, lacing his fingers in front of him with his arms balanced on his crossed knees. 'Your arguments did have some merit, and the boy has done nothing but try to aid us.' He paused, his hand lifting to his temple briefly. His gauntlets were gone, she noticed. They'd all tried to clean up a little using the water in the barrels in the corner, but there were still small flecks of blood – her blood – on his wrist and red band that he'd missed. 'Losing my memory a second time, along with the treatment at Danarius' hands, restored my previous distrust of mages. I couldn't remember the good I had seen mages do while I was free. Now my memories are restored to me, I can be... fairer, I suppose. More like I was before this happened. Not all mages deserve the anger I have directed towards them in the past.'

He glanced up at Anders, Bethany and Merrill across the loose circle they were sat in. The three were chatting to the others, oblivious. 'I could never take a mage's harmlessness at face value, but I can be more forgiving than I have been. Particularly of those in our group. Especially Bethany,' he admitted with a small smile that Hawke returned. Even in the early days, Fenris hadn't had too many harsh words for the younger Hawke. He sighed and nodded towards the other mages, lips thinning. 'I may never agree with the two of them, but they have proven reliable allies despite everything. You, they would have come for regardless, but they did not have to help me. They did. I am grateful for that. We may never be friends, but I believe I can try for civility at least.'

Hawke was smiling when he looked back, a fond little twist of the mouth even as she shook her head in soft amazement. She reached a hand out to his face, tilting her fingers in a request. 'Come here.'

He leaned forward, unsure, until he was close enough for her to sweep her hand under his fringe and rest it against his forehead, as if checking his temperature. She said nothing, just grinned until he huffed and swatted her hand away, trying and failing to hide his smile.

She chuckled, wincing as it jolted her tender stomach, retracting her hand to gingerly rest it over the resealed, angry red scar. 'Seriously though,' she said as she sobered, 'I'm glad. No one's expecting you to go and hug the First Enchanter when we get back-' she snorted at the face Fenris pulled at that mental image, 'but I'm glad you'll try to be more tolerant. Although after this... I can understand where you were coming from,' she said quietly, hand lifting in a vague indication of the Imperium at large.

He watched her for a moment, saw the memories behind her eyes, and reached out. He rested his hand gently over hers, his fingers sliding between hers. That brought a smile to her face. She rubbed the side of his index finger with her thumb, the callous on the pad familiar again now. So many little details he remembered, was still remembering as they occurred to him.

The first tap barely registered. The second drew his attention up towards the door as Aveline straightened, eyes narrowing.

'Someone's coming,' she said, surging to her feet as she yanked her shield onto her arm and drew her sword. 'Identify yourself!' She called into the hallway as the others rallied behind her, grabbing weapons and standing between Hawke and Fenris. Even Dumat moved, easing out from underneath his mistress so he didn't jar her before pacing forward, growling.

Hawke grimaced as she propped herself up on her elbows, and not just from the strain. She should have told them sooner. 'Wait. I think it's Feyn-'

'Hold, please! It's Feynriel. I've been trying to find you for hours.'

Everyone relaxed while Hawke waved a 'there you go' gesture at the door with one hand while taking her weight on her other arm.

'Next time kid, give us a bit of warning,' Varric said as he slung Bianca back over his shoulder and the young mage finally appeared in the doorway.

'That was my fault, sorry,' Hawke said as Feynriel gave a sheepish grin. 'He did warn me while I was asleep; I just got distracted before telling you.'

Aveline sighed, but put down her shield. 'Well, no harm done. What's it like up there, Feynriel?'

The young man grimaced, coming further into the room. The brighter light from the braziers lining the walls showed the dust and flecks of blood on his robes, the shadows under his eyes. 'It's chaos, in a word. The battle here seems to have sparked a city-wide revolt. With many of the city's magisters being killed here and the rest thrown into disarray, the slaves have risen up. From what I've seen, many magisters have returned home only to be killed by their own slaves. Some have been spared – my master is one of them, the Pavus family seems to be intact, as are several others. Those who had a reputation for being considerate slave owners, it seems. Either way, Minrathous is in uproar. The Archon is marshalling his forces to put down the rebellion. If you plan to leave, best do it soon.'

For a moment no one moved. Just stared at each other, wordless. As usual, Varric was the first to find his tongue even as he dragged a hand over his weary face. 'Way to break it to us gently, kid.'

Feynriel winced, but before he could apologise again Isabela stepped forward, scowling. 'What are the docks like? If anyone's damaged my ship...'

Feynriel raised his free hand in uncertainty while everyone swapped worried looks. If the ship had been attacked, their easy way out of the Imperium was gone. 'I honestly don't know. There's been some looting and damage to buildings, but that would surely be limited to the wealthier districts and shops, wouldn't it? I can't see a reason for the docks to be targeted, unless people were trying to flee the Imperium. Even then, they'd need people who know how to sail...'

'That wouldn't stop the desperate. There were people trying to flee Ferelden in row boats during the Blight,' Aveline said, already moving to gather her few things together. The group in general shifted into motion, refilling canteens from the water barrel, putting back on removed pieces of armour, putting their weapons away.

'How much longer until high tide, Isabela?' Sebastian asked, hauling Fenris to his feet. The elf swayed a moment, colour draining from his face, before steadying himself.

'By now?' Isabela rocked her head from side to side, looking at the ceiling as she estimated the time. 'An hour? About time we were moving anyway.'

'At least that gives us plenty of time to get to the ship and prepare to cast off,' Sebastian said, as he and Fenris stooped to carefully lift Hawke to her feet. She sagged against Fenris' side, wincing.

Anders paused in assessing his greatly depleted potion pouch to narrow his eyes at the group and immediately approach, shaking his head. 'No, absolutely no walking. Not even with help, Hawke,' he said when she made to argue.

Grumbling, she subsided and flopped back against Fenris, grudgingly acknowledging that he was right. Fenris took a breath, bracing himself to carry her. Usually he could do so without a problem, but in truth he still felt weak and shaken from the spell. Still, he was about to try when a hand landed on his shoulder.

'Perhaps I ought to carry her, Fenris,' Sebastian offered. At the elf's forbidding glare and Hawke's curious glances, he nodded at the rest of their group. 'Including Feynriel, we have six ranged fighters, and only three close combat ones. If you take her, Aveline and Isabela will be alone on the front lines. While I would be the last to doubt their capability, we would do better as a group to balance our team, not unbalance it further.' The archer's eyes were completely honest, though Fenris knew he was also offering to help cover for Fenris' own weakness. Unable to help himself, he looked first to Hawke.

She shrugged as much as her wounds allowed. 'Makes sense to me. I'm all yours,' she added, carefully holding her arms out to Sebastian as Fenris stepped back with a grateful nod. The archer returned it with a smile as he easily lifted the duellist into his arms, his eyebrows jumping then creasing in concern when he realised how little she weighed now.

Aveline led the way out, with Anders right behind her lighting the way up the staircase with his staff. Isabela and Fenris followed with Bethany lighting the steps, Fenris slipping past Anders as they neared the top of the stairs so the two warriors were first out into the ballroom. There was no need for caution. Though littered with people, the great hall was empty. Only the bodies remained. Magisters, slaves, guards and the odd pirate alike. Isabela shook her head at the latter, mouth a thin line, but moved on quickly as the small group progressed towards the doors.

When they stepped outside the ruined hall and onto the streets, the mages' lights were no longer needed. The sky was lit a dull, cherry red fading to orange at the horizon. Thick plumes of smoke choked the stars, rising from the numerous bonfires throughout the city.

'Maker. It looks just like Ostagar,' Aveline breathed, gripping the hilt of her sword a bit tighter, to reassure herself.

'And Lothering, the night we escaped,' Bethany agreed in a murmur.

Varric patted the youngest Hawke's hand reassuringly, giving her a smile. 'Cheer up, Sunshine, Aveline. At least here all you've got to worry about is looters and rioters, and they're probably going to give a group of our size a wide berth. No darkspawn around here.'

'Thank the Maker for small mercies,' Aveline said, but her shoulders had relaxed as she 'put her Guard-Captain head on', as Hawke was fond of saying. She had a mission, and she was going to do it.

Feynriel led the way; Fenris at his shoulder lest any mobs spot the mage and decide to attack. A few scattered groups eyed them as they passed, but none were bold enough to engage such a large, well-armed group.

Shouts and cheers rang out eerily through the streets, apparently without a source, and at one point a group of revellers spotted the rescue party and rushed towards them, keen to draw them into their celebration. They drew to a stunned stop before most of the group could ready their weapons. Glancing round, they realised that Fenris had lit his markings and was simply staring in the ex-slaves' direction. The band of newly freed men and woman watched in silence as Fenris took point and led the group away, no one saying a word. Later, one of the many rumours that sprang up about that night was that the Champion had been tragically slain, leaving the lyrium warrior to bear her body back to her home to be cremated – despite the fact that Sebastian was carrying her at the time. Of course, it clashed with many other stories where the Champion survived, one of which involved a desperate battle from the palace to the docks and a daring escape aboard a pirate ship, chased by every magister left in the city. Varric would later insist he had nothing to do with it.

As they headed east towards the docks, Hawke reached out and snagged Isabela's sash, tugging to quietly get her attention. The pirate glanced down at her while idly making sure the blue cloth didn't slide off her hips.

'Those pirates in the fight... they were your crew, weren't they? Will we need to wait for them at the ship?'

Isabela smirked. 'Not a chance. As things were dying down I told them to grab what loot there was make sure we were ready to sail with the tide. They'll be there, and we'll be ready to cast off as soon as the tide is with us. I may have been stuck on land for a while, but my reputation still gets things done even with a strange crew.'

Hawke smiled. 'Good to hear, Captain.' If that put a pleased grin on Isabela's face for the rest of the journey, neither of them mentioned it.

When they finally reached the dock, Isabela's boatswain was waiting for them. Feynriel bid everybody goodbye and a safe voyage, helping the pirate to hold the large, lone rowboat steady until everyone was seated. No one needed to ask where the ship was – its dark silhouette loomed off shore, at anchor in the deeper waters.

'Feynriel.' Hawke looked up at the young mage, silhouetted against the red sky now he was standing above her. Then he sank to one knee to hear her better, and he was just a young man again. 'Do what you can for Danarius' old slaves. There are some good people there. They could do with your help. Tell them I sent you, it might help them trust you. Just get them somewhere safe, help them get home if you can. Please.'

Feynriel leaned down, holding his balance with his staff as he reached out to grasp Hawke's hand. 'I will, I promise. They'll be safe with me. If there is anything I can do, Minrathous will see change in the near future.'

'Just don't piss off the Archon. You can't do anything if you're dead,' Hawke said with a wry smile, clasping his hand tightly.

Feynriel gave her a cocky smirk. 'He wouldn't dare. What if he failed? Then he'd have a blood feud with the first somniari in centuries.' Seeing her dubious, worried look, he squeezed her fingers. 'I'll be careful. But I do have some influence here, and that will only grow as I become more involved in politics. I'll do everything I can to help reform the Imperium from within, and I'll start with helping Danarius' ex-slaves. I'll get them somewhere safe tonight, before the Archon sends out his forces.'

'Thank you,' she said fervently, before reluctantly releasing his hand. 'We'll write as soon as we get back to Kirkwall so you know we arrived safely,' Hawke promised the young Somniari.

'Serah Hawke, would you be able to give this letter to my mother when you see her? Oddly enough, I don't think the trade routes are going to be operating properly for quite a while,' Feynriel asked, handing Hawke the sealed message with a grin before stepping back. Hawke nodded, smiling in return.

'I'll make sure she gets it. Thank you for everything, Feynriel,' she promised.

'The same to you all. Have a safe journey,' he replied, waving as Isabela quickly cast off, the boatswain and Sebastian helping her undo the sailor's knots that kept them in the dock. They, Anders and Aveline each grabbed an oar and began the task of getting them to the ship as the others waved to the lone figure left on the dock. Varric sat in the middle of the boat, muttering under his breath with his eyes closed, clutching Bianca like a safety blanket until the rowboat bumped up against the ship's side.

Then came the tricky manoeuvre of getting Hawke up a tall ladder built into the side of a softly swaying ship, without her tearing her muscles open.

In the end everyone but Hawke, Fenris and Aveline headed up to the ship to cobble together a method of lifting her safely up the side. Soon they tossed down a large fishing net on a rope. Laughing, Hawke carefully manoeuvred herself inside it with Fenris and Aveline's help. She was about to shout to be pulled up when Aveline grabbed the rope, frowning.

'If you get pulled up now, you'll hit every protrusion on the ship,' she said. It was true – Hawke was leaning directly against the side of the ship.

Aveline looked up and down the line for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders and found the neck of the net. 'Move over, Hawke.'

'What-' Hawke didn't get to finish, too busy shuffling over and having Fenris hold her out of the way as Aveline set her sword down in the boat and awkwardly clambered into the net, trying not to rip it. Then she settled down with her back – and shield – to the boat, and let Hawke sit back against her chest. Hawke was chuckling by this point.

'This is bizarre, but might actually work. Will you be alright?' She asked, turning her head to look at her friend.

Aveline smiled. 'I've had harder bumps in the training ground, Hawke. I'll be fine.' She looked up at Fenris. 'Ready to go. Would you bring my sword up?'

The elf nodded, already sliding the blade into his belt. He tugged three times on the rope, and heard shouts above coordinating the lift. With a jolt and a few bumps, Hawke and Aveline slowly started to ascend with several dull clangs as Aveline's shield scraped wood. Fenris followed them up via the ladder, a little slower than he might have done at full strength, but easily enough considering the events of the day.

After Fenris finally reached the deck and everyone had hauled the other two on board, Isabela directed Aveline and Fenris to the captain's cabin, with orders to put Hawke there before turning to bellow at her crew.

Fenris was grateful to retreat to the relative calm of the cabin, away from the sailor's shouts and the distant cries that still issued from the dying city.

The cabin was reasonably spacious for the size of the ship, and dominated by a four-poster bed that took up a large part of the room. Fenris wondered idly how Isabela had fit such an extravagance through the cabin doors as he straightened, unbuckling his sword and rolling his sore shoulders.

After Aveline had carefully deposited Hawke on the massive bed and departed with a last squeeze of her hand and a 'glad you're back', they were left in the quiet of the room.

'Hey,' Hawke murmured from the mattress. Fenris shot her a quizzical look as he sat on the edge of the bed, tugging his gauntleted gloves off and tossing them onto a nearby table.

She hesitated for only a moment before patting the bed beside her. 'Come here. You're bound to be as tired as I am,' she said. He gave her a grateful smile and carefully shifted up the bed, not wanting to jostle her as he settled back into the overabundance of pillows Isabela had coated the head of the bed with.

After a long pause Hawke spoke up, eager to head off any awkward silences. 'Am I the only one who thinks this bed is too comfortable?' Hawke asked with a groan, drawing a laugh from him as he shook his head.

'Not at all. I know the first time I escaped, when I was living with the Fog Warriors, I would lie awake for hours after I'd recovered from my injuries and not be able to get to sleep because the bed was so soft, even though it was nothing compared to this, or even my bed in Hightown. I'd eventually move to lie on the floor, because I couldn't get any sleep otherwise. I only changed my habits after spending all day working or training – I'd exhaust myself, so that when I did collapse onto the bed, I fell asleep regardless of where I lay. After doing that for a few nights, and feeling far better rested for it, I was able to sleep in the bed even if I wasn't particularly tired. I suspect I'll have to do something similar now.' He sighed, closing his eyes. All excess comfort aside, he doubted he'd have trouble sleeping tonight. Every muscle seemed to ache, and though he didn't have a headache, his mind felt too full. It was as though he could feel all the suppressed memories taking up space there, keeping his thoughts disorganised.

It still didn't feel quite real. Everything from the past few hours seemed to have a Fade-like quality about it; it seemed perfectly reasonable as it happened, but he felt that any moment, he would wake and realise just how impossible everything had been.

They settled into a comfortable, drowsy silence, content to just rest and sort through their own thoughts. A knock on the door roused them, along with Bethany's cheerful 'can we come in?'

At their joint 'yes', the door opened, admitting Sebastian, who held the door open for Bethany, bearing a tray with two large bowls on it, steam rising idly from the rims.

At the sight, Fenris sat up and Hawke raised her head, eyes trained on the tray with the same intensity as her namesake.

'Anders sent orders not to eat too quickly, or you might make yourself sick, sis,' Bethany said, setting the tray down on a table as Fenris helped Hawke sit up, propped up by a good number of Isabela's surplus pillows. The young mage handed out the bowls with warnings about its temperature while her sister complained.

'Why did he only tell me that? What about Fenris?' She groused, but soon fell silent when she received her bowl of stew.

'Because Fenris seems comparatively well-fed, and because you don't think things through,' Bethany answered bluntly, passing the warrior his own meal, which he accepted gratefully.

'Isabela also sent me to tell you that you both can have the cabin for the rest of the voyage. All things considered, she said you would benefit from it more than her, and she also said to tell you, when you start arguing, that she prefers bunking with the crew anyway,' Sebastian added with a smile at Hawke's stymied expression. 'She knows you too well, Hawke,' he acknowledged. Hawke grimaced.

'She knows everybody too well,' she muttered, then, ignoring her sister's red face and the Chantry brother's embarrassed laugh, she continued. 'Since she won't let me argue, tell her thank you. It's appreciated,' she said genuinely. Sebastian nodded his consent as Bethany walked around the bed to sit next to her sister, evidently ready for a long talk.

Taking that as a cue to leave, Sebastian turned towards the door and Fenris stood, already scraping the bottom of his bowl clean. With a promise to return later, he grabbed the tray Bethany had brought and followed Sebastian outside, closing the door and leaving the sisters to catch up.

Sebastian was waiting for him, and the two fell into step as they headed for the galley below deck to return the tray and empty bowl.

'It's good to see you again, Fenris,' the archer said as they walked away from the cabin. 'Everyone's been concerned, for the both of you,'

Fenris nodded.

'It's appreciated. In all honesty, the possibility of being rescued never occurred to either of us. On the journey here, Hawke and I were focused on escaping ourselves. After we arrived in Minrathous, Hawke may have wondered if anyone would come looking for us, but if she did she never discussed it with me in the few minutes of conversation we could steal, and I no longer knew of any friends who might go to such lengths for us,' Fenris replied honestly. Sebastian's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

'So Danarius did remove your memories again? I'll admit; we weren't willing to believe Feynriel's letter when he explained it to us. I'm sorry you had to experience that again, my friend.' The Prince said sincerely. Fenris nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't reply as they descended into the galley to deposit the tray and bowl in the kitchen.

The two maintained a companionable silence as they retreated back up to the main deck. It was odd, Fenris thought, to see his friends scattered amongst Isabela's rough crew. Merrill was sat up in the crow's nest, but hadn't quite understood the part about staying there – she kept walking out onto the mast's beams, balancing as expertly as a cat as she pointed out interestingly shaped clouds to everybody below. Anders was sat on the bottom step of the stairs leading up to the upper deck, a black and white ship's cat curled up in his lap. The man looked more content than anyone had seen him in years.

Isabela was on the upper deck, behind the wheel, occasionally shouting out orders or admonishments if she saw any of her crew slacking. Varric and Aveline were presumably below deck – they weren't in sight, at least.

They were far out to sea by now, and away from the smoke and embers of Minrathous, it was clear that dawn was starting to touch the horizon, turning the sky a pale grey in the east.

'You'd think we'd all be sleeping by now,' Sebastian reflected, resting his forearms against the railings at staring out at the greying sky.

'I guess no one's had time to truly relax after fleeing Minrathous. I know I certainly haven't,' Fenris acknowledged with a rueful laugh that Sebastian joined.

'Maybe you're right. It has been a stressful day, to say the least.' He replied, shaking his head tiredly. 'I just can't believe the atrocities the magisters committed so casually – it is one thing to hear you talk about them, but completely another to see them carried out.' He whispered.

Fenris gave a low, humourless laugh.

'The ones you saw were mild. The...experiments carried out on slaves in the name of research or creating new spells...they were the truly horrific sights.' he murmured. 'I was often ordered to restrain them, if they became too panicked to obey on their own. It is those moments that I regret, above all others.' Fenris sighed, dropping his head to study his loosely clasped hands resting over the rail. 'I don't know how many must have died in order for Danarius to perfect that spell he used on Hawke. Dozens, easily. The only consolation I have is that I wasn't involved in them. Danarius never let me inside the room whilst experimenting these past few months. I always wondered why. I imagine it was because he didn't want to risk me getting caught up in the spell by accident before he could control it.'

'Even if you had been involved, the fault would not be yours, Fenris. Danarius is the only one to blame for his depravities.' Sebastian insisted, gently but firmly. He saw the corner of the elf's mouth lift in a tired smile.

'Yes, I remember. 'A murder committed under duress is a sin on the one who ordered it, not the one whose hands carried out the deed', I believe you told me. I hope you can still think as such after witnessing such sins yourself,' Fenris recalled softly. Though Sebastian's idealism could be grating at times, Fenris wouldn't want the man to lose it.

The brother nodded.

'I do. It sickened me to see such things, but it has not shaken my faith,' he said resolutely.

'Good,' Fenris replied. Feeling marginally less disgusted with himself, the elf stretched, relishing in the feel of the gentle breeze. Even the nights in the north were warm, especially when compared to the southern days.

He was distracted by Sebastian nodding towards the receding coastline and embers, barely visible now. The archer seemed awkward, uncomfortable, but undeterred. 'Will you miss it?'

Fenris raised a dark brow. 'Minrathous?'

Sebastian shrugged, a hand sweeping out wordlessly. 'Tevinter. The Imperium. It was your birthplace, your home for a long while.'

Fenris sighed, turning to look back out at the burning clouds. 'Perhaps, in time. Small things. The warmth even in winter. The smell of the jungles in summer. But the cities, the people?' He paused for a long time, watching the ruddy sky above the city fade out across the ocean to the pink tint of dawn. 'No. Those I will not miss. It is a relief to be gone.'

'Aye,' Sebastian said softly. 'That, I think I can understand.' They stood in companionable silence for a while, watching the gulls starting to wake and take wing. Soon, they heard heavy boots thudding on the stairs.

'There you are.' The two at the railings turned to see Varric making his grim way along the rail, casting nervous glances out at the lightening water.

'How are you coping, Varric?' Sebastian inquired as the dwarf reached them. The storyteller waved an airy hand, but when he spoke his voice was a fraction higher than normal.

'Fine, I'm fine. There is nothing wrong about a dwarf being out at sea at all.'

Before Fenris' amused smirk could turn into a taunt or question, Varric nodded his head back towards the captain's cabin.

'Just saw Sunshine leaving. Apparently our Lady Hawke is well and truly out for the count. Should do her some good, anyway. Speaking of sleep, Aveline grabbed me and told me to tell you that it's about time everybody got some rest. Personally, I think it's a wonderful idea and will be turning in shortly. I just need to tell Daisy to stop showing off and go to bed. I will see you fine gentlemen tomorrow...or later today. Much later today. Hey, Daisy!' The two laughed as the dwarf wandered off gingerly, leaving the safety of the rail and braving the centre of the deck until he reached the central mast as Merrill slithered down the rigging as though she'd grown up climbing in it.

With a final smile, Sebastian bid Fenris a goodnight and departed for his own bunk, leaving the elf to head for the captain's cabin.

He entered quietly, grateful for the thick rugs that muffled his already light footsteps as he approached the bed.

As Varric had said, Hawke was already changed into a nightgown and sound asleep, deeply enough to not even twitch at the faint sounds of Fenris removing his armour and setting it on the ground beside the lone, occupied armour stand. Hawke's armour hung from it, all the buckles undone still – probably Bethany's doing. Fenris studied the back for a moment, a finger running along the finely mended tear from Hawke's first whipping. There was no sign of the large bloodstains in the fabric, and only close examination revealed the tiny stitches repairing the cloth. A short eternity of suffering, wiped away with barely a trace. Fenris turned away, loath to contemplate it further.

Even when he slowly slid into the bed beside her, Hawke barely shifted, settling immediately with a sigh. Bethany must have helped her roll over safely, since Hawke lay on her side, facing him. Her mouth was slack in sleep, her body utterly relaxed, her hands resting loosely in the space between them.

Taking the time to truly study her without scrutiny, he could see now how slavery had taken its toll on her. Her face was gaunt, her hands mere bundles of delicate bones. Clothes that used to sit comfortably across her shoulders now gaped on her atrophied frame. Her hair was longer; she'd not bothered to cut it since their capture. Even her eyes had changed, though he couldn't see them; slightly sunken, perpetually tired, and with a hardness to them that was evident all too often.

Although the bed was large enough to hold five qunari comfortably and there was plenty of space by Hawke's side, Fenris found himself shuffling to the opposite side of the bed. Both of them had suffered these past few months, and with everything that had happened... he didn't know where they stood. The last thing he wanted to do was make assumptions. The only measure of closeness Fenris allowed himself was to cautiously, ready to draw back or freeze if she showed any sign of waking, lay his hand on top of her overturned one. Her fingertips fluttered, but her breathing didn't change, and the warrior allowed himself to relax. Though he was barely aware of it, it took him less than two minutes to drift into a gentle yet deep sleep, lulled by the first tinge of safety he could remember in a long time.

He only woke once during their sleep, when Anders slipped into the room. Fenris woke the moment he heard the soft whisper of the air beneath the door moving in a wave, and when sunlight – previously blocked by the sturdy shutters on the window – poured in through the door. He feigned sleep as the door closed again, shutting out the unwelcome light, until he identified the mage's quiet but purposeful footsteps. As tension flooded out and relief trickled in, Fenris half-opened one of his eyes and fixed the mage with a mute glare, silently asking why he was present. Anders, wearing his crumpled undershirt in place of his feathered coat, his hair half falling out of its tie and sticking up in odd lumps, returned the look with decidedly less effectiveness before giving a verbal, if whispered reply as he walked around the bed.

'I'm checking on Hawke. After that much work, I want to keep a close eye on her for the first night – day, sleep, whatever – at least. It won't take long.'

Fenris gave a grudging nod, only then realising that in her sleep, Hawke had latched onto his hand with hers, her fingers loosely wrapped around his.

'Try not to wake her,' he breathed as Anders reached out. The mage rolled his eyes but gave a silent nod before a soft blue light emanated from his hands. Fenris grunted softly, scrunching his eyes closed as the light, now directly in front of him, invaded his night-accustomed eyes in a way the sunlight hadn't.

The glow only lasted a few seconds before Anders stepped back, nodding in satisfaction.

'Everything seems fine. I'll come back in another four hours or so and check on her again.' He murmured, careful not to wake Hawke, though the chances of that seemed slim – she was still deeply asleep, even after the two invasions of light and the quiet conversation.

Anders turned to go, but paused shifting slightly, awkward. He gave a half-hearted, distracted wave in vaguely Fenris' direction.

'These past few months can't have been easy... for either of you. So... so you try and get back to sleep, too.' He muttered. Fenris stared silently for several moments, trying futilely to judge the mage's intent and tone. Finally deciding that he was simply offering advice – slightly begrudgingly albeit – Fenris gave a slow nod.

'I will,' he conceded warily, but Anders simply nodded and hastily shuffled out. Fenris remembered to close his eyes before the glare of sunlight hit them, then they were shut back in the welcome darkness. It wasn't a truce, exactly, but it was enough for now.

Hawke shifted finally, a small frown on her face, until Fenris rolled back onto his side to face her and gently flexed his fingers to make sure he still had feeling in them. She sighed and relaxed again with a quiet mumble that Fenris needed a second to decipher.

'Fenris?'

'I'm here, Hawke. Go back to sleep,' he replied softly. She sighed again, humming an already asleep 'mmn,' before sinking into the mattress again, deeply entwined in the Fade.

Though it took him considerably longer this time, Fenris too slowly drifted back into a lethargic doze that deepened into true sleep, content in knowing she was safe and sleeping beside him.