Fenris eyed the darkness beyond the cone of light that spilled through the opening Hawke had ushered him down warily. It was the profound darkness that could only be achieved in the deep spaces of the earth and it wasn't something he had experience with. Keeping an ear cocked to it, he helped Hawke stand steady on the ladder as she pulled the cover over the light, dropping them both into the throes of this intense night. Immediately uncomfortable with not being able to see he let his brands flare, casting an eerie pulsing glow that did little to illuminate their surroundings. Hawke immediately began casting about until she found the torches she knew would be somewhere close by and drawing lightly from the fade, touched a finger to the kindling. The torch caught and handing it to Fenris, she lit another.

"Used to be part of a mine until a cave in cut them off," she explained at his dubious look. "Smugglers found them and used them to sneak lyrium into the Gallows. Course back in the day, mages found them as well and used them to escape the Circle. When I was Viscount I made sure that Cullen knew about them so we could try and stop the smuggling."

"So these are likely to be guarded?"

"Yes."

Fenris sighed and nodded. His first experience with Kirkwall had left much to be desired. Darktown as she had called it, making use of the sewers as it did was not a place that polite society was likely to admit even existed. In those dark tunnels the destitute and the desperate existed out of sight and as likely out of mind of those in power. Now smugglers caves? He knew she had worked for a smuggler in exchange for getting her and her family into the city, had she been involved in smuggling lyrium? He refrained from asking since the darkness was accompanied by a concentrated silence and he knew that voices would carry a long distance in it. Following behind her he wondered not for the first time about her experiences here in Kirkwall. They had occasionally talked of it, her telling him stories of her exploits but he got the impression that a great deal was still left unspoken.

Fenris lost complete track of time in these dark tunnels and it was hard to say how long they had been down there. On several occasions they had been forced to backtrack as Hawke, not incredibly experienced with these caves to begin with and time having dimmed even that memory, found herself staring at dead ends. So when they discovered a series of steps leading up, Hawke nodded and squared her shoulders before taking them. They were close. At the top of the stares she found herself looking at a door that she did not remember, one with the Templar coat of arms cut clearly into the wood. This, she mused, was new. Cullen must have done it to prevent uninvited guests. Trying the latch she found it was locked. Sighing, she reached under her cloak to pull out some lockpicking tools that Varric had given her, hoping that her meager skills would be enough.

She hadn't more than started trying when the door suddenly flew open and unbalanced she fell through the doorway at the feet of a Templar. When Fenris stepped forward, framing himself in the doorway, the surprised Templar backed away and sensing magic about them fired off a Silence spell. Hawke, who had been climbing to her feet, went immediately back to her knees, the spell taking the strength right out of her as she felt her connection to the Fade die. The spell passed right over Fenris without effect and seeing Hawke go down he immediately went for the Templar. Brands flaring, he was on the man before he could react, first cuffing the man's ears, and then knocking his feet from beneath him. Once the winded Templar was on the ground, he grabbed his throat in a vice-grip, holding the man to the floor as he leaned over him, snarling savagely as he stripped him of his weapon and threw it to the corner.

"Fenris!" Hawke managed to gasp. "Don't hurt him."

"I can hurt him all I want," Fenris sneered, not taking his eyes from the struggling Templar, "So long as I don't kill him." Leaning down until his nose nearly touched the man's, watching as his eyes widened as he did Fenris spat, "You should wear a gorget. When you wear heavy armor, you wear a gorget. If you were wearing a gorget, I would not be able to do this." Squeezing tighter on the man's throat, Fenris shook his head. "Sloppy."

"Yes, but Cullen is going to frown on you damaging his Templars, even the sloppy ones," Hawke quipped tightly as she struggled to come to terms with how she was feeling. As many times as she had over the years wished she had been born without magic, had been 'normal,' she found the way she felt right now at best disturbing, at worst nauseating and had to push her way past it to deal with the situation. "And that won't put him in any mood to listen."

Tsking contemptuously at the Templar and wishing he could bang his head off the floor a few times just because he offended him, Fenris saw the logic in what she was saying. Releasing the man he stepped away but laid his hand to the hilt of his sword, just in case. The Templar, gasping and coughing crawled to his feet, eyeing the both of them suspiciously. Before he had a chance to get his air back, Hawke threw a pouch at his feet. Pointing to it and trying not to wretch, she finally managed to get to her feet.

"Take that to Knight-Commander Cullen. Tell him," she paused, looking the Templar over. "Tell him Marian respectfully requests an audience."

Bending over carefully, he snatched the bag and watching Fenris warily he bolted up the stairs on the opposite side of the room. The clang and scrape of his armor echoed down long after he was lost from sight. Sighing, Hawke let herself fall back to the floor, holding her stomach and wondering just how long the spell would last. As she concentrated on breathing, she felt Fenris's hand on the back of her neck and looked up to find him kneeling next to her, his concern plainly written on his face.

"One of the reasons Templars drink lyrium, it gives them the ability to nullify magic spells or better still, temporarily disrupt a mage's connection to the Fade," she explained quietly. "Never had it done to me before and I have to say it reminds me of the aftermath if Isabella's rum." Fenris chuckled, rubbing her back as she breathed. "I think I can safely put this on my list of things to never do again."

Leaning forward to brush his lips across her temple, he whispered, "Hopefully there will never be a reason for it."

"Truly," Hawke nodded, "But in his defense we did startle him."

Fenris grunted, not quite as willing as Hawk to give quarter.

Maraas stared out off into the night. She knew the Wolf of Rivain was out there, Klaton had told her that this Captain Shrawn's ship was at anchor in the harbor. The last week she had spent most of her time in her cabin, at first trying to survive the aftereffects of a night drinking far too much rum and later trying to figure out just how to feel about what had happened. Not wanting to deal with Isabella, she had decided hiding in her room was her best option. Now she just wished she could go to Hassrath. He had always been her calm in the storm and right now she needed some calm. So thoroughly wrapped in her own thoughts she never noticed Isabella's approach, never saw her pause behind her and cock her head thoughtfully and when she spoke, Maraas just about jumped out of her skin.

"The one with the lights bow and aft?" she said, stepping forward to stand next to Maraas. "The one with the lateen rigging? That's the Wolf of Rivain."

Maraas sighed and debated walking away, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"Lateen?"

Isabella chuckled.

"The triangular sails at the rear. Back about half way."

Maraas nodded as she picked out the ship in the darkness and an uncomfortable silence fell. Isabella looked at the Kossith woman from out of the corner of her eye but wasn't able to read much. When she chose to Maraas could be just as inscrutable as Hassrath. Sighing, she just decided to out with it.

"Are you okay?"

"Okay?"

"All right. You seem out of sort."

Maraas looked at her a moment, trying to decide if she was joking or not.

"I have no idea why you would think that."

"Because," Isabella muttered, "You're too damn quiet. You're never quiet. Always asking questions, even when…."

"Well what do you expect?" Maraas interrupted, kept her tone level. "You got me drunk and…" she struggled for the words, but couldn't find them. "I cannot even use Qunari words because we don't have words for this."

"Maraas," Isabella sighed, "How much do you remember?"

"A great deal."

"Well then, you need to ask yourself a question. It's a simple one, kind of like whether Hassrath means anything to you, a yes and no question. The rest, like I said then, is twaddle." Shifting her stance so that she leaned with one elbow to the rail, she looked at Maraas seriously. "Did you or did you not enjoy it. The rest is just good old morality, most of which is forced down our throats by so called holy people. Sex is not 'strictly for procreation' and it's not something secret or dirty. It's…" Isabella struggled for a moment, before sighing. "It's the closest we mortals will ever get to the divine, this side of dying. Most people aren't like me, I do it because I can, because I want to and no one can tell me not to. Maybe that's a fault of mine, I don't know and I don't care. Most people find that one someone they care about and sex is… I donno, the ultimate expression of trust? Of love? There is nothing dirty about that."

Maraas looked away, studying the outline of the Wolf of Rivain, silently considering what Isabella had just said.

"Why?"

"What? Did I take you to the Blooming Rose?" When Maraas nodded, Isabella studied the deck a moment. "Because of the look you got when you were explaining the Qunari ideas on sex. No one should feel that way about it. It shouldn't be something you dread, it should be something you embrace. It should make you feel good, and not just physically although that's not something to sneer at. It should make you feel like you are the most important thing in the world to the person you are with. And I suppose if they are then it's all the better." Pausing Isabella turned to lean both elbows to the rail and look out over the darkened port. "I think somewhere deep inside I loved every man and woman I have ever slept with, at least for that one night. Some maybe for longer but that is neither here nor there. And sad as this might sound, that's always been enough for me. The idea of handing over my heart… well it scares the shit out of me."

Maraas looked at Isabella, studying the sad expression as she gazed out over the ships at anchor and thought how very much she understood that. Hassrath hadn't brought up what had happened that night all those weeks ago in Llomerryn and she had been too afraid to broach the subject herself. Looking at Isabella, she decided maybe she should.

"Yes."

Isabella looked at Maraas a moment, studying the Tal-Vashoth's profile and trying to figure out what she meant. When she didn't reply Maraas finally looked at her, meeting her eye boldly.

"Yes, I enjoyed it."

Isabella's lips quirked up, but she resisted the urge to smirk.

"And no, I'm not going back there."

Holding up her hands in mock surrender she chuckled and smiled an honest smile that had no ulterior motives. Looking back at the Wolf of Rivain, she couldn't help getting in one last remark though.

"Now you just have to convince the big guy to do things your way."

Maraas snorted, a tactic she had seen all of these people use and smiled when Isabella threw back her head and laughed at her.

"Isabella, you need to understand something. Qunari do not need sex to express how we feel. We do it with a look, a touch, both something very personal to us."

"But," Isabella remarked lightly, "You are not Qunari."

Maraas stared at Isabella a moment, absorbing that and realizing she was right. And she was wrong because in declaring herself Tal-Vashoth she had declared herself the light that had to exist inside the dark in order for the dark to have meaning. Without Tal-Vashoth, indeed without kabethari outsiders the Qun ceased to have some of its more significant meaning. So in a very real sense, she would forever be Qunari. Being Tal-Vashoth just gave her the freedom to flaunt the tenets should she so choose. Nodding she looked back out into the dark, wondering to herself if this was one of those tenets.

Neither woman noticed Klaton standing in the shadows behind them until he cleared his throat. Both women jumped and swung around to stare at him, both women wondered just how much he had heard, though for differing reasons. Stepping to Isabella, he handed her the note that had been delivered for her and kept a completely neutral look on his face. Sighing because that look told her he'd heard far more than she was comfortable with, Isabella unfolded and read the short missive. Blinking at it, she pushed past Klaton and ran down the forecastle steps, yelling for Varric as she went.

Klaton watched Isabella disappear below deck, one eyebrow cocked high and wondered if he should follow. Deciding that no, waiting for her to tell him would probably be wiser he looked at Maraas and shrugged. Maraas shook her head, and turned back to look at the Wolf of Rivain. Klaton sighed. He knew what had happened. Little to nothing concerning his crew, including his captain went unnoticed by the first in command, and he wondered what was going through her head. Stepping up to the rail next to her, he joined her in her silent contemplation of the harbor, though for different reason. While she silently missed her companion, he silently considered what he had heard.

They didn't have long to wait. Thankfully it was long enough for the worst of the effects of the spell to wear off. When the sound of metal against metal sounded down the stairs, Fenris went to stand but Hawke grabbed his arm, shaking her head wordlessly. Not liking this submissive posture in the least but accepting that she knew this man better than he, he acquiesced. Watching as Templar after Templar poured down the stairs, each with their weapons drawn and followed by a tall blonde man with sharp eyes dressed simply in black breeches and a grey shirt, Fenris gritted his teeth and so did Hawke. Cullen studied the picture the two presented, knelt on the floor, both meeting his eye boldly. The years had been kind to Hawke. Her complexion was darker, she possibly had a heavier dusting of freckles than he remembered, but otherwise she looked remarkably unchanged. Her companion interested him; knelt though he might be he looked like a bow pulled to its maximum, quivering with energy ready to be unleashed. Cocking his head, he reached out and pulled a torch from one of his men and held it up, scrutinizing what he could see of his odd tattoos as they caught the light. Nodding to himself, as a Templar he readily knew what that was, he handed the torch back and held out a hand to Hawke.

"After all these years," he mused ironically as she accepted his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. "You literally deliver yourself to the back door of the Circle. Have you had a change of heart Hawke?"

"Not exactly," she murmured. "I could think of no safer place from the eyes of the Seekers than in the Circle I'm supposed to have tried to overthrow."

Cullen cocked his head, absorbing the audacity of that statement before throwing back his head and laughing.

"Hawke you never fail to surprise me," he finally replied, wiping tears that his laughter had elicited. "And here I thought poor Carver was going to have to keep an eye on you."

"I'm sure," she mused aloud, "He will be just as happy to not have to babysit."

"Yes, I'm sure he will be." He paused to look at Fenris, standing slightly behind her. "Who is your friend here?"

"Fenris," Hawke supplied, "Meet Cullen, Templar Knight-Commander of the Kirkwall Circle of Magi. Cullen, meet Fenris. Fenris is… my bodyguard." Fenris inclined his head politely but made no comment. Cullen studied the other man a moment, taking in the alert stance, the way he kept his attention divided between the armed men and the conversation between Hawke and himself. He could believe this man to be a formidable opponent and looking back at Hawke, he mused that she always found the most interesting people in her orbit. He wondered if this one was likely to try starting a revolution. Mouth twisting thoughtfully, he considered his options. Hawke kept her face impassive as she watched him, knowing he was debating what he should do with her, what he wanted to do with her and what the middle ground was that he could live with.

"Well, since it seems I am to have a guest of some repute," he finally said in a light tone, neglecting to mention exactly what sort of reputation he was referring, "I suppose we had better find someplace to put you up." Looking at Fenris again, he came to another decision. "And I see no harm in leaving your 'bodyguard' armed."

Hawke barely suppressed a sigh of relief as she politely inclined her head and followed behind Cullen. Maybe, she thought, this might work out after all.

"She did what?" Varric stared at Isabella gaping like an idiot for a moment.

"She's gone to the Circle!" Isabella waved the paper at him. "The Circle! She's lost her mind!"

Varric blinked several times as this ran through his brain, then slowly his mouth closed and a smile spread across his face. Finally, he started laughing. Isabella stopped pacing and stared at him, starting to think that Hawke wasn't the only one whose brain had lost a cog as the dwarf leaned a hand to his bunk and wrapped an arm around his stomach.

"Oh," he eventually gasped, wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh that is rich! Just rich! She's not lost her mind Isabella, she's pure genius!"

"What?" It was her turn to gape.

"Aveline would feel duty bound to turn her over to Cullen, friend or no she's an apostate. Carver, for a lot of reasons might find it expedient to hand her over to the Seekers. Cullen on the other hand, isn't likely to and better she goes herself than to have someone else take her at sword point. There is no place on all Thedas safer for her than inside that Circle right now because it's the last place the Seekers will think to look." Varric explained, plucking the note out of Isabella's hand and reading Hawke's short missive. "And she's right; Cullen is going to be more likely to believe her when she has literally delivered herself to his mercy. Scary, but right. If she's wrong…."

"She'll be trapped inside the Circle forever."

Varric chuckled. He doubted Hawke understood the meaning of forever. Patting Isabella's hand he assured her in a tone more confident than he felt, "She's right."

Hawke stared around the rooms Cullen had ushered them into. Although clean, they had a feel to them of long disuse and something she couldn't quite identify about that bothered her. Hoping that close inspection would help clarify things, her eyes stopped when they fell on a black staff, stood respectfully in a holder made of polished ironbark and steel. It was simple enough, tall because its owner had been, with the heads of three dragons, each looking different directions decorated the top. Turning to look at Cullen, carefully keeping the chill that went through her off her face and out of her voice, she regarded the Knight-Commander.

"Orsino's rooms?"

Cullen shrugged and waving his Templars from the room, made himself comfortable on one of the couches.

"The traditional quarters of the First Enchanter actually," Cullen shrugged. "First Enchanter Vistana wanted nothing to do with them when she was chosen to lead the mages. Couldn't blame her considering the poor end he came to."

Hawke sighed. Cullen was baiting her and she knew it. Looking again at the staff, she decided if Cullen wanted to play games, fine. Sitting across from him in a high-backed chair that was more comfortable than it looked, she regarded him levelly.

"Yes, I know," she replied quietly. "I was there, with Meredith and I was the one that finally killed him." Cullen's eyebrow twitched but otherwise he showed no reaction to her little barb that he had not been there. "No one knows better than I do what became of him."

"He did rather prove Meredith's point though, didn't he?" Cullen fired back promptly.

"Only because she gave him no choice."

"There is always a choice Hawke," Cullen sighed, "Always."

"What? Bending his knee and presenting his neck? You know as well as I that he would have happily done so if it would have appeased her and you know as well as I do that it wouldn't have." Hawke waved a hand dismissively. "This gets us nowhere Cullen. Meredith was insane, that idol had worked her into something twisted. And she had warped Orsino into something equally ugly with her paranoia. Neither was innocent. I understand that. But I also find it telling just how few of the mages that day turned to blood magic to try and survive the inferno Meredith turned loose inside the Gallows, or how many refused to fight at all. I know it didn't pass your notice either."

Cullen tipped his head, allowing that she was right and chuckled. This was an old argument between them and it was nice to know that some things never changed. Hawke regarded him a moment, feeling as if this were some sort of test.

"My point is that regardless of his actions, he taught his mages well."

Cullen looked at her, nothing much showing on his face but she knew he was considering her thought on that matter. He had often thought the same thing of the dead First Enchanter, and it was telling that even in his own thoughts he still considered Orsino a First Enchanter and not a blood mage, regardless of his eventual end. On some things he and Hawke saw remarkably eye to eye.

"Let him be remembered as such," Cullen sighed, repeating something he had told First Enchanter Vistana long ago, when she had taken the office.

"Yes," Hawke agreed.

Silence fell, a tense one and finally Cullen looked past Hawke to where Fenris stood trying to make some sense of the conversation they were having. Looking him over again Cullen gave over to his curiosity.

"Tell me," he remarked, leaning forward to wave a hand vaguely in Fenris's direction, "How does one go about getting tattoos of lyrium. I've never heard of it."

"One would," Fenris replied tightly, "Be a slave in the Tevinter Empire, be experimented on by an insane magister with more wealth and power than humanity and survive not only the process, but the aftermath as well." Cocking an eyebrow at Cullen, he finished with, "I wouldn't recommend it."

A Magister's property? Looking at Hawke Cullen couldn't help but wonder how Hawke of all people had come to be in possession of a slave. Reading Cullen's thought Hawke shook her head.

"Fenris is a free man Cullen. He follows me of his own choice."

"This was," Cullen looked at Fenris, "Not something you chose to have done?"

"No."

Hearing a lot of bitterness thrown into that one small word, Cullen cocked an eyebrow and looked at Fenris, slightly confused.

"You resent this and yet as a free man you still follow a mage?"

Fenris paused, looking at the back of Hawke's chair and considered his words carefully.

"Hawke is no Magister."

Cullen sat back, considering what the elf said. Nodding to himself and musing that this elf's endorsement went further than any action in clarifying Hawke's character to him, he wondered if this was why she had brought him. Looking at them both and remembering the pause before she had announced him her bodyguard, he finally stood.

"Well Hawke," he said, "You chose an indecently early hour to decide to grace us with your presence. I'll let the two of you rest." Turning as if to leave he paused to look back and asked, "There is only one bed, should I have another one brought?"

Hawke cocked her head and regarded the innocent expression on Cullen's face a moment before sighing.

"No."

Nodding again, Cullen inclined his head politely to them both and left. As he did they saw that there were two Templar's guarding the door outside. Hanging her head, Hawke sighed. One hurdle down.

Fenris looked around the room, and wondered what Hawke had gotten them into.