Sour Notes

She stood outside his door, her heart aching; missing him, wanting him, as it always did. Her head was angry, snarling at her, demanding to know why they were standing here ready to put themselves back into harm's way. Ready to put herself back into the same situation where she wanted, yearned and desired only to have her heart broken again and again. And her body…it was just plain weary, tired of the whole war.

The lamps were doused and the doors were shut, a very odd occurrence in the middle of the day. Or perhaps it wasn't so odd anymore, a lot could have happened in the years she had stayed away. She raised her hand as if to knock but instead her fingers just barely brushed the door. She trailed her fingertips over the rough grain of the wood, almost like a caress. Why, oh why was she here?

Yes, okay Sebastian had said something to her, but it had been made mostly in passing. Was that enough to send her running back to his door? Besides, Sebastian didn't know the whole story. Would he still have suggested reconciliation if he knew how she ended up broken hearted again and again each time Anders rebuffed her? Would he still think it wise if he knew how deeply her feelings for Anders truly ran? She had the sneaking suspicion it wasn't exactly love, not in the way most people understood it.

She gently touched her forehead to the door and traced her fingers over it again. "Anders," his name was a soft whisper on her lips. This stupid aching in her chest redoubled at the sound, how could she still miss him this much after so long? She sighed heavily, "You don't even want me, so why won't you give my heart back?"

She stayed like that for another minute, torn between knocking and leaving. Eventually, she decided she wasn't ready yet. His door was closed for a reason and she took it as a sign that it wasn't time to reconcile with him. Maybe it never would be. The most she could hope for were his skills at her side and constant heartache.

Slowly, she turned away from the door. There were more important things she should be doing today anyways. Emeric still waited to hear from her in the Gallows. She'd swing by the Hanged Man and see if either Varric or Izzy were interested in a little adventure.


She'd nearly spotted him when she turned around. He'd quickly withdrawn into the shadows, thankful he'd managed to pick up a couple things from 'Reyna and Zev, even at his height. The sight of her standing at his door had frozen him in his tracks.

He'd stood staring at her, watching her odd behavior. She'd never even knocked for him. So why bother to come at all if she hadn't wanted to see him? Perhaps she'd needed something from him, something she'd been embarrassed to ask for.

"Serves her right." He thought bitterly. He worried that his eyes might have been glowing, that Justice might have given them away, but apparently the pain of seeing her had been enough to blunt the sharpest of his dual layers of anger. He stared into her retreating form, holding himself very still when she paused and canted her head as if she were listening for something. Had she felt his stare?

Soon enough she was on her way again, and when he was sure she couldn't see him he stepped into the light and quickly jogged to his clinic, shutting and locking the door behind him. He needed to find a safe way to vent his anger. His head felt like it was splitting open from the cacophony within.

He stomped to his desk, puffs of dust billowing from each footfall, before yanking open the top drawer. He'd burn the sketches; it was symbolic and would be intensely satisfying. He picked up the stack and stalked to the fire. He paused, looking at the first one. The ache in his chest grew, chipping away at his anger.

He closed his eyes, replaying his day in his head to bolster his resolve. Varric had sent a messenger saying there was a problem with Hawke. Anders had practically shoved his patients out the door and run to the Hanged Man. Only to find Hawke hadn't even been there.

Just Varric who had nodded at him gravely, "You need to take a seat, Blondie."

Anders had lowered himself into the nearest chair. "Mind telling me why you dragged me out of my clinic when there wasn't even an emergency?"

"I had good reason," Varric settled himself across from Anders. "I have no idea what happened between you and Hawke. She won't tell me, just gives me cold stares. Whatever it was, you both need to get over it. We need our healer again." He took a deep breath his eyes suddenly very intense. "And Hawke needs you."

"Did you really drag me up here just to tell me to play nice with Hawke?" Anders was annoyed but Justice was angry. He was still furious with Hawke for her crass letter and for kicking them out of her life. Justice had just begun trying to understand Hawke instead of resenting her when they'd been summarily cut from her life like so much chaff.

"The girl's got a new beau…and let's just say," Varric grimaced in distaste, "I don't exactly think they belong together. He's all wrong for her."

Anders felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. She was seeing another man? He'd just learned about her little romp with Fenris a few months ago. While he was suffering and alone she was out taking lovers. He knew he should be happy for her, that she was getting the normal life he had wished for her.

The problem was all he could feel right now was a monstrous wave of jealousy. It was completely foreign and made him feel a bit sick. Another man was holding her, running his fingers through that white hair, touching that alabaster skin. Another man was enjoying her touches and her taste. While he pined and craved, another man was enjoying her laughter and smiles.

Which all just wound Justice up more, he didn't understand exactly what Anders was feeling but he understood Anders was in pain. And whenever Anders was in pain Justice wanted to destroy whatever had caused the pain. He roared in Anders' mind wanting…wanting…Vengeance.

Anders closed his eyes, hand moving to his stomach as a wave of nausea overtook him.

"Uh, Blondie, you're glowing." Varric sounded nervous.

Anders just nodded his head, free hand clutching the table as he fought against Justice. Andraste's tits he'd never felt such raw fury. His heart galloped in his chest, his head throbbed in pain. He took slow breaths through his nose, exhaling slowly through his mouth and begged Justice to calm down.

He could feel Justice's spirit fire licking along his skin, pulsing. He was thankful he'd closed Varric's door behind him when he entered. Otherwise the entire tavern would be seeing the light show, not just his skin cracking open with light seeping through, but his entire body ablaze in blue flames.

Varric had backed his chair up; Anders could feel him sitting against the wall. He could even feel the speeding beat of his dwarven heart. Poor man probably regretted sending for him now. Anders almost laughed, but he needed to focus, to get Justice back under control, put the monster back in its box.

He had no idea how long he sat there fighting Justice. Eventually, the spirit subsided and Anders' body returned to normal. Slowly, he opened his eyes peering at Varric who seemed both repulsed and fascinated.

Varric swallowed thickly, "Does that hurt?"

Anders shook his head, "The physical things don't hurt. It's trying to control him that's painful."

"I didn't mean to upset you so much."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Sure you did. You just didn't know it would happen here."

Varric was very still for a long time before he let out a sigh, "Fair enough."

Fatigue swept over Anders, as it always did after a fight with Justice for control. "So, this man that's all wrong for her, what's he like?"

"He's a brother in the Chantry."

Anders frowned, cutting Varric off before he could go any further. "You're worried about a Chantry brother? With her mouth I'm sure it'll be over in short order, she'll offend his delicate sensibilities."

Varric shook his head, "No, it's not like that. He might be leaving the Chantry. It's that Starkhaven prince, the Vael boy. He renounced his vows to avenge his family."

This just kept getting better and better. He needed to get his shit together and be happy for her that she'd found someone worthy of her. Someone who could love her openly, could take care of her and treat her like she deserved to be treated. Even without Justice, Anders had nothing to offer the girl but misery and heartache. "So, she found herself a prince, I'm failing to see the problem." "Other than my broken heart, of course."

Varric shook his head a little, "I don't like him, and I don't trust him."

Anders snorted, "You don't trust anyone."

Varric scowled, "That's not true, I trust Hawke."

"Apparently not, you've called me here because you don't trust her taste in men."

Varric smiled a little. "Let's be honest, she doesn't have the best track record."

Anders didn't bother to reply, mainly because he agreed with Varric. The woman had the worst taste in men; he was living proof as was the heart-ripping ex-slave she'd dallied with. He briefly thought of tracking this Vael down and trying to discern for himself how bad he would be for Hawke, but quickly put the thought aside. It was none of his business.

"I'd rather see her with you." Varric added, quietly.

Anders chuckled darkly, "He must be some piece of work if you'd rather see her with a possessed mage who occasionally tries to kill her."

Varric looked away, "I didn't forget about what you did to her. I'll never forget that. Hawke just…she seems to so desperately need someone, to not be alone… and that I understand. Her prince would kill who she is, would strip away the most vital parts of her. He'd turn her into one of those creepy mages, what are they called? The tranquil?

"He'd make her tranquil, stripped of all her colors, all her dreams. He'd destroy everything we adore about her. I'd rather see her dead than see that happen to her. I thought if anyone could understand that, Blondie, you would." The dwarf had leveled his gaze on Anders, pinning him with his stare.

This was Varric wheeling and dealing, underhanded or not. Oh, the man was genial, a fantastic storyteller, always with a smile and a tale. This though…this was the real Varric, the one he hid from the masses. Varric the master manipulator, the puppet master, so skilled at his craft his puppets had no idea they had strings attached.

Anders realized he was only getting half the story. Something else was going on but Varric wasn't about to share it with him. And the story didn't matter anyway. Hawke wanted Anders out of her life. She'd only let him back in for the brief stint with the poison gas because the others refused to help her otherwise. And she'd gotten rid of him, sending him back to Darktown, as soon as she could when it was all over.

He shook his head, "You're on your own Varric. I'm not interfering in the woman's life."

Varric's jaw tightened and his nostrils flared briefly, "Is the idea of being with her really that terrible? I've done some digging, Anders. And based on what I've learned it seems Hawke's the only woman you've ever turned away from your bed. Or maybe you're running scared because you actually feel something for her?"

Anders' anger flared to life anew, "My life if none of your damn business, Varric." He'd pushed out of the chair and left the tavern, heading back to his clinic, where he'd nearly run into Hawke. And now here he stood in front of the fire, the sketches still clutched in his hand. He sighed, suddenly exhausted.

Sometimes he had no idea how he kept going day after day. Giving up on the idea he might be able to part with his sketches he returned them to their drawer in his desk. He lowered himself into his chair and looked around the clinic. He didn't feel like trying to help the underground today or even reopening his clinic.

He still hadn't touched his manifesto in two years, the pages stuffed into another drawer of his desk. Today would be no different. It would sit there, untouched and unfinished. Justice could complain all he wanted, but Anders was feeling aimless and frustrated. He'd fritter away the rest of the day on small menial tasks like making new batches of health poultices, grinding elfroot and various other odd jobs.


Emeric was pleased to see her; the look of relief on his face was immediate. He even flashed a triumphant look at another Templar; a middle aged woman who seemed to be watching him like a hawk. The older Templar had apparently somehow won himself a babysitter since she last saw him.

It didn't take long to find out exactly how that happened. He told her the tale of how he had found a suspect and had coaxed the guards into checking out his residence all to no avail. And the first flickers of anger marred his aged features as he told her about being reprimanded by Knight Commander Meredith who had then forbid him from further investigation.

Hawke had teased him a little about being a thorn in Aveline's side and he had taken the ribbing good naturedly enough. And when she gave an overdramatic sigh of resignation complaining that everyone always wanted her to fix everything he'd made a smart remark of his own, claiming she only had herself to blame, being the city's most famous troublemaker. Perhaps he had a point.

She promised him to look into it right away, at nightfall as he suggested. He gave her a warm smile as he thanked her. Unable to resist, she dropped an exaggerated bow to Ser Emeric's Templar babysitter, which earned a warm chuckle from Emeric even as his babysitter glared at her.

She left the Gallows and headed back to the Hanged Man. Both Isabela and Varric were more than happy to help her, neither one of them had wanted to make the trip out to the Gallows though. Not that she could blame them, she would have skipped the trip herself if she could have. With both of them in tow she headed to the Chantry.

Varric groaned from behind her, "Haven't we seen enough of your latest charity case this week?"

"Ignore him sweetie, I can't wait to see your delicious little prince again." Izzy purred.

"You're going to have to get used to Sebastian, Varric. If I'm going to be doing work like this again, and you plan on coming along you'll be seeing a lot of him." She didn't like arguing with Varric, he was one of the few people in Kirkwall who didn't drive her up a wall.

Varric snorted, "At least until he says or does something to upset you and then he'll be exiled like Fenris and Anders."

"What?" She couldn't believe his nerve.

He gave a heavy sigh, "Nothing, forget I said anything and go get your little Chantry prince."

She watched him for a moment, debating on pushing the issue to see exactly what he meant but dusk was upon them and she wanted to get on with this job as quickly as she could. Varric and Isabela waited outside while she went in for Sebastian. He was standing on the dias being lectured by the Grand Cleric when she walked up the steps.

A look of sheer relief washed over his face when he saw her. She smiled back and walked to stand next to him. "Grand Cleric, how nice to see you this evening. Do you think I could possibly borrow Sebastian? I'm in need of his talents."

The Grand Cleric sighed dramatically, "More violence I suppose?"

"I hope not, I'm assisting the city guard with an investigation. I thought maybe a face from the Chantry could smooth the process. Although, I admit if things do go sour it would be nice to know Sebastian can handle himself." She tried hard to look earnest, to not grin or giggle and surprisingly managed to succeed.

The Grand Cleric gave a faint nod. Sebastian took Sekhmet's elbow and quickly led her off the dias. He kept a straight face until the Chantry doors had thudded loudly shut behind them. His laugh started quiet and slowly bubbled up into outright guffaws.

"Oh Hawke, you shouldn't lie to her like that. It's just so…so wrong!" His laughter trailed off into a few chuckles.

She smiled back and shrugged, "It wasn't exactly a lie. We are helping the guard with an investigation. It will be nice to know you can handle yourself. And who knows, maybe a face from the Chantry could help."

"Well whatever we're doing it has to be better than the last hour and half I just spent with Elthina. She's very disappointed with me. She just found out that Lady Johain Harriman is dead." He was quiet now, a haunted look passing over his features briefly before he noticed Isabela and Varric walking towards them.

His lips curved up into a soft smile as he nodded to Varric, "Hello Varric," before dipping a somewhat shallow bow to Izzy, "Isabela."

Isabela smiled wide, "Hello, prince."

While Varric muttered, "prat," mostly under his breath.

If Sebastian heard him he ignored it and turned his attention back to Sekhmet as they walked down the stairs, "So, tell me about this job?"

She filled him in, finishing just a few minutes before they reached Gascard Dupuis' mansion. She didn't bother to knock; afterall they were hoping to catch the man doing something shady. The four of them had barely made in a dozen steps into the place when they were attacked for the first time, shades appearing from every corner and shadow.

And while Sebastian still seemed surprised by the shades it didn't stop him from attacking and killing them quickly. Sekhmet found herself enjoying the fight. She wasn't worried about Sebastian, now that she knew he could handle himself. And after the last few days she felt back in the swing of things. Sure she'd gotten into small fights while working with Isabela, but they were rarely more dangerous than your average bar fight.

She was looking forward to dealing with Dupuis as well. Kirkwall might not consider her one of its own, but it was her home now. She wouldn't just sit back while some man kidnapped and killed women. She was just glad Ser Emeric had cared enough to investigate when no one else had.

As the fight wound down to a close Varric walked over to her, it was hard to read what he was thinking when he spoke. "Emeric's right, Gascard's trying to hide something."

"No shit," this from Isabela, "Come take a look at this." She held up a letter.

Sekhmet quickly skimmed it, unease growing in the pit of her stomach. The letter thanked Gascard for a shipment, but didn't specify what the shipment was. Even more disturbing it spoke of an artifact that had been sent for payment. It cautioned Gascard to use care, stating the creatures could be difficult for control even for an experienced mage. Did Gascard have some kind of artifact that gave him control over the shades or were there worse things hiding in the depths of the mansion?

"Your friend? That's not ominous or anything." Isabela quipped, alluding to the lack of a signature on the mysterious letter.

"Not that we're not always careful, but I think we need to be especially on alert here, guys. And I think it's a pretty safe bet to assume that dear Gascard is a mage." Sekhmet added.

They ran into small pockets of shades as they moved throughout the house. Sebastian found a sternly worded letter from the First Enchanter of the Starkhaven circle admonishing Gascard for inquiring about a mage. It seemed he thought that perhaps the mage was missing from the circle. She had no idea why Gascard would have contacted the circle looking for a missing mage.

Varric at least had a supposition. "Perhaps Gascard was looking for help from another mage."

"Yeah, but help with what?" Sebastian countered.

No one seemed to have an answer and the longer they were in the mansion the more uneasy Sekhmet began to feel. Through another doorway and down a short hallways she stopped short. Magic hung in the air, thick, too sweet, and almost familiar. She slowly pushed open the door but found no one inside.

On a table, on the far side of the room, she saw several bottles of dark red liquid that glittered strangely. The odd magic clung to them heavily. She reached out and touched one of the bottles and found it warm, it pulsed at her touch. Immediately, she drew her hand away and struggled not to wretch.

"What is it?" Varric asked as he stepped closer.

"Blood magic."

"Phylacteries," Sebastian replied at the same time.

Sekhmet's stomach knotted, "Who do you suppose they're for?"

He shook his head, "I have no idea. I've just seen a few at the Chantry."

"Someone want to fill me in?" Varric was starting to sound irritated.

"Phylacteries are what Templars use to track mages." Isabela answered, surprising everyone. When everyone turned to look at her she gave a small shrug, "Most mages would pay a small fortune to get their hands on their phylacteries."

Sebastian was appalled, "You've stolen phylacteries?"

Izzy shrugged, "Let's just say I know what I'm looking at. Look at the bottom, usually there's some sort of label or inscription to say who it belongs to."

Sekhmet stepped away from the table. "I can't touch it again, you take a look."

Isabela nodded, "I understand. They kind of feel alive when you touch them." She stepped forward and flipped the bottles over. Unfortunately, none of them had any indication of who they belonged to. "I suppose that was too much to hope for."

"Alright, let's see what else we can find. I need to get out of this room." Sekhmet strode from the room quickly not caring if the others thought she was weak. The magic hanging in the air was bad enough, but the feeling of the phylacteries was still crawling across her skin.

She jogged up the steps and to the end of the hall where the door was standing open a crack. She waited for the others to join her before she pushed the door open. It was empty but for several beds, a chest and a couple dressers. Sekhmet had been about to leave the room when Varric stopped her.

"What's with this room? Doesn't it seem a little strange for a man living alone to have a room set up like this?" He gestured around the room.

She shrugged, "Maybe it's a guest room."

He grunted and turned to a chest standing in the corner. A small piece of fabric was sticking out of it, powder blue with pale pink flowers on it. "This seem like Gascard's style to you?"

Isabela crouched in front of the chest and started picking the lock, "You never know. I once knew a man who wore his wife's clothing." She sighed fondly as the lock clicked open, "He had so much fun with it." She pulled the top of the chest open as she stood up.

Immediately visible inside were at least three different distinctly feminine fabrics. Varric pulled a couple pieces out and held them up. "So what is a bachelor doing with women's clothing in several different sizes?"

"You think they're like mementos or trophies? Like something to remember his victims by?" They'd come back for the clothing once they had found Gascard and gotten rid of him. Perhaps Aveline would be able to track down who the clothing belonged to and maybe manage to give the families some kind of closure.

"This is one sick fuck, Hawke." Varric snarled as he shoved the clothes back into the trunk.

"I say we cut the bastard's balls off." Isabela piped in.

Right now, Sekhmet kind of agreed. They just had to find him first. "Well, then let's go find him and put an end to this."

At the opposite end of the hall they encountered a locked door. It only took Sekhmet a few moments to unlock it. She strode into the room with her companions on her heels and saw two people. A terrified looking woman, kneeling at the feet of a man, dressed in noble clothing with a staff strapped to his back. Had they caught Gascard in the act?

The woman called out to them pitifully, "Help me, please. He's gone mad."

Gascard turned towards them, a triumphant smile on his lips for a moment. A smile that quickly melted into anxiety when he caught sight of Hawke and the others. He stammered a little as he spoke, "You're not…" He stopped and started again, more calmly, less incredulously. "You're not him." His anxiety became almost palpable as he spoke. "Shit, I know what this looks like, but I…I didn't hurt her."

Sekhmet was feeling angry and mean, "Bullshit, look at her, she's terrified."

"You don't understand, someone is after her. I had to keep her safe. I don't know why you're here but there's a killer out there and I think he's playing us both. Just…just let me explain." He spoke very calmly up until the last sentence.

"You've got sixty seconds to see if you can talk yourself out of this." She snapped.

Varric chuckled, "Twenty silver if he says 'it wasn't me, it was the one armed man'."

Isabela snickered behind her but quickly fell quiet when Gascard started to talk.

He paced back and forth not looking at Sekhmet or the others at all. "Several years ago my sister was murdered. The bastard's now in Kirkwall killing again, the same way he killed my sister." He finally turned back to her but his face was very placid and calm. "It starts with a bouquet of white lilies. He sends them to each new victim."

His gaze wandered to the woman still kneeling on the floor looking terrified. "Alessa was going to be next. I took her so he'd have to come to me." Sighing a little he continued, "I was finally going to face my sister's killer, but then you showed up." He rubbed his forehead as if trying to ward off a headache.

Alessa screeched at them, "He's lying, he hurt me."

Gascard turned to her, annoyance marring his features briefly before he squatted in front of her and spoke curtly. "I've explained this. I need your blood to track you down if he took you. It's for your protection."

Alessa suddenly jerked away from him and surged to her feet, she dashed across the room nearly falling as she cried out, "Let go of me."

Gascard stood and faced Sekhmet again, anger simmering. "She'll go straight to the city guard, they'll ruin everything."

Varric scowled, "Can't you just tell the city guard what you just told us?"

Gascard sneered, "Why? I don't want him arrested. This isn't about justice. I need to be the one to bleed him dry. Besides, they probably won't even hear me out, not after that damned raid."

Something wasn't sitting right with the man's story. "So, tell me, who killed your sister?" Sekhmet prompted.

Gascard didn't hesitate. "A powerful and experienced blood mage. I believe he uses the women for some ritual. His victims are attractive, healthy women with few social ties"

That was an awful lot of specific information. How did Gascard know it was a blood mage that killed his sister? Even if she was killed during a blood magic ritual how would Gascard know that the blood mage was powerful and experienced?

She pushed him a little to see how he would react, "Emeric was certain you were the killer."

Gascard was disgusted, "Of course he was, but I was trying to find the killer just like him. Our paths crossed and he just assumed I was the murderer."

The man was lying through his teeth. "You really did make yourself a target though, kidnapping people and all."

Another quick sneer from Gacard before he replied, "I suppose that's fair."

Sebastian took a small step forward, "I could report you to the Templars for blood magic."

Another flicker of fear before a not very convincing shame faced confession. "Yes, I've used blood magic and lyrium to augment my powers. I'm not proud of what I've done, but I had to. He took my sister from me."

Sebastian shook his head. "He's lying."

She nodded, "I know."

Gascard snarled at them like a cornered animal. "No, I've worked too hard. It can't end like this."

Gascard quickly summoned several shades before quickly retreating from the room and using magic to seal the door. He really couldn't have been a very strong mage because as soon as Sekhmet and her companions had killed all the shades the magic barrier dissipated. Gascard led them through the house in the same manner, summoning shades, abominations and demons and throwing up magical seals over the doors.

Eventually, they caught up with him before he could slip from the room. Hawke streaked across the room and killed him quickly before dealing with the creatures he had summoned. Once everything had been dispatched she looked through Gascard's clothes to see if he had anything on him that could have been the artifact referred to in the letter. Unfortunately, she didn't find anything.

Varric had walked over to her while she was rifling through the dead man's clothes. "What if he was really just looking for revenge for his dead sister?"

"He wasn't." Sebastian didn't hesitate to respond.

Varric furrowed his brow in mild confusion. "How can you both be so sure?"

Sekhmet looked to Sebastian to see if he would answer but he turned away and walked to the doorway to wait for them. "We can both be so sure because we've both lost siblings, we've both wanted revenge for it."

"So, he was better at hiding his emotions. Big deal."

"But he wasn't, Varric. He was worried when we showed up. He was irritated when the girl, Alessa escaped. He was angry when we didn't believe him." She wondered if Varric was really upset that she had killed Gascard or if he was just irritated that she agreed with Sebastian.

Varric smiled a little, "I suppose you're right. The only time I've ever wanted revenge was against my own brother. Very different circumstances."

Before they left Gascard's mansion Sekhmet went back to the room with the phylacteries and broke every one of them by smashing them to bits inside the fire place, letting the fire destroy the rest. With that done they quickly left and headed to the Gallows to give Emeric the news.

Isabela and Varric even decided to tag along. Sekhmet smiled to herself. Funny how they were willing to go once the job was done and there were accolades and coin to be had.

She was surprised not to see Ser Emeric anywhere about when she arrived at the Gallows. His Templar babysitter was still there. As a matter of fact she was approaching Sekhmet quickly with a scowl marring her features.

She suddenly stopped short, "Aren't you Hawke? Emeric left not long ago, he said you'd arranged to meet tonight."

Sekhmet glanced at Varric confused, "Did I tell you anything about this?"

Varric shook his head no.

The templar's frown deepened, "Don't you remember sending this message?" She handed the parchment to Sekhmet.

Sekhmet skimmed over it, the handwriting was clearly not hers and its request to meet after dark in some alley unknown to her made her feel anxious. "I didn't send this."

The Templar stepped back a little, her face softening a little. "You didn't? Strange."

Varric shook his head, "That's not a good sign."

"Well I don't know." The Templar gave a bit of a shrug, writing the whole incident off, "Emeric's been acting strangely for months. It's probably just a misunderstanding."

"Are you serious? You're not even going to look into this and make sure he's alright?" Sekhmet was appalled, the poor man. No one seemed interested in his thoughts or his welfare.

"As I said he's been acting strangely for months. It's probably nothing."

Sekhmet grit her teeth and turned to leave. "Varric, I want you to put out feelers, see if you can track him down. Izzy, check out the alley, see if he's there already for some reason. Check the place out, let me know what the best way to approach it is and if there are any hidden surprises. I'm going to talk to Aveline. If someone is after Emeric then women might still be in danger. I'm going to have her get someone to keep an eye on Alessa."

Sebastian suddenly jogged away from them without a word. Hawke stopped just short of the ferry dock to see what he was up to. He seemed to be talking to Knight Captain Cullen. Whatever it was Sebastian was telling him wasn't sitting well with the Knight Captain. He looked mildly annoyed at first but slowly his expression darkened to anger. He nodded at Sebastian, who clapped the metal clad Templar on the shoulder before jogging back to Sekhmet.

"Sorry about that. I was a bit annoyed that a Templar was missing and no one was going to do anything. He says he'll make sure it's looked into." He held out his hand and helped Isabela onto the Ferry before doing the same for Sekhmet.

She smiled at him, "Did you just tattle on a Templar?"

He smiled a little, "Maybe."

She giggled and rested against the rail. "Hopefully he means it. I'd hate for something to happen to Emeric."

Varric snorted beside her, "Are you kidding? You're worried about a Templar? Ancestors, is the world ending?"

Sebastian frowned, "What's he talking about?"

She shook her head, not wanting to upset Sebastian. "Nothing, don't worry about it."

"You mean you haven't told your little choir boy about your favorite hobby?" Varric sneered.

Why was he being so obnoxious today? Was it just because she'd brought Sebastian along? "It's not a hobby and you know it. Now drop it."

Sebastian sighed beside her, "You might as well tell me now."

She tossed one last glare at Varric before pulling Sebastian a little away from the others. "It's not a big deal, Sebastian. I've been attacked by Templars and had to defend myself. My sister, before she became a Warden was attacked on occasion and I defended her. And no, I don't feel guilty about it."

"So, what you're saying is you've killed Templars."

"What I'm saying is that I've killed a lot of people in my life, including Templars." She kept her voice soft and tried her best not to sound defensive. She wasn't ashamed of the Templars she had killed, so why did it feel like she should be?

Sebastian was quiet for a couple minutes, searching her face, looking at his hands, his boots, and out over the water before finally turning back to her. "I have a feeling you're not telling me everything, but that's alright. I don't need to know everything about you and your life. The Maker knows I am not a perfect man and I will do my best to reserve judgment."

A small smile touched her lips. "Sooner or later you're not going to be able to avoid the things about me you don't like."

His lips turned up in a small smile of his own and he reached out and took one of her hands giving it a gentle squeeze and murmuring "Later then, always later," before letting it go.

She glanced up and caught Varric scowling at the two of them before turning away. They reached the Lowtown docks and all parted ways to take care of their respective tasks. Sebastian had decided to head to the Chantry to see if there was anything he could do there while the others were busy.


None of them had managed to find Emeric. So when nightfall came they all headed for the alley in the message. As soon as they turned down the steps into the alley they had seen Emeric's lifeless body on the ground with a large shade hovering over it.

"He wasn't here earlier Hawke." Isabela quickly insisted.

"Looks like the beast just finished Emeric off. Let's give it a little pay back." And in a blink Sekhmet was in thick of it. She'd hurried off the steps and towards the shade hovering above Emeric. As soon as her feet left the steps other shades began cropping up around them, reminiscent of Dupuis' mansion.

They came in waves, and as she spun from one to the next she wondered how they were being controlled. It seemed that each time she and her companions slew a few, more were summoned in their place. And then the attack abruptly ended. Either whoever was summoning them had no more to summon. Or they realized that sending them after Sekhmet and her companions was a waste.

When the Templar they had spoken with at the Gallows suddenly showed up as soon as the fight was over it left Sekhmet feeling anxious. The timing was odd, had she been sitting back waiting to see what happened? Was she somehow involved? Or had she really just arrived?

Unlike when they saw her at the Gallows she was suddenly full of concern. "Some mage sent that thing here to kill him." So, she must have seen at least as much as Sekhmet had. Why hadn't she helped when they were being attacked? "Why would anyone…"

The Templar jerked her head up as if she had a sudden realization. "Oh Maker, the murders, Emeric was right. He was getting too close." She shook her head as if stunned and Sekhmet fought the urge to slap her. "He suspected a man named Gascard Dupuis. Did he do this?"

Sekhmet shook her head, "Not likely, I killed him right before I arrived at the Gallows this morning."

The Templar scowled, "Then who sent the creature? Whoever did this is a dangerous apostate that Meredith will want found. I will see to it personally. Thank you for your help in this matter. If you learn anything more please come to me." She handed Sekhmet a sovereign, supposedly for her help before leaving the alley.

"I don't like her and I definitely don't trust her." She mused. "I have a feeling I'm going to regret letting her leave here alive."

Varric chuckled, "There's the Hawke we all know and love."