The next time the Templars came, Fenris and Hawke were prepared for them. In the time since Keran's last visit, they had discussed the possibilities and determined it was best to use the obvious weapon first, to see how far they would get with only Fenris's abilities. Neither of them felt comfortable underestimating the Templars and imagining that the first attempt would be either unexpected or successful. So the three daggers Fenris had carried in with him were carefully concealed deep within the soft mattress, along with several loose chunks of the rock wall, in hopes that anyone investigating might find those first.

As soon as the door flew open, the first Templar to come through immediately performed what Hawke recognized as a massive Holy Smite. So massive, in fact, that she could hear screams through the floor—clearly, there was a mage in the cell directly below hers, and that mage was now suffering the aftereffects of the smite. Fenris, on the other hand, was immune, and he had his fist buried in the Templar's chest before the man could unset from his smiting posture.

Hawke was waiting behind the door, and she grasped the second Templar's arm as it reached for his sword, pulling him off-balance and then shoving him forward into the room, where Fenris caught him with his other hand, squeezing the life from him in the same way he had the first.

A crossbow bolt flew from the open door, embedding itself in the muscle of Fenris's upper arm. Hawke nodded at him, concealed as she was behind the door, and he let the lyrium markings deactivate. The precise placement of the bolt where it would hurt but cause little damage said the Templars were testing to see if pain would cause a disruption in Fenris's powers. It didn't, but there was no point in letting the Templars know that, not if they could keep the information as an ace in the hole if needed later. They had taken out two Templars, at least, and Hawke assumed the garrison, buried so far back here, would have trouble resupplying with new men. That might have bought them some time … or, if not them, then perhaps some of the other prisoners being held in the Aeonar.

Once the white light of the markings had faded, the expected scrape of boots heralded the entry of a Templar into the cell. This one was helmeted—not Keran, Hawke decided. She'd never seen him wear a helmet. He must prefer to have his face on display at all times, she thought. Too bad he hadn't been marked up more as a child. A less pretty face might have forced him to work harder for the things he wanted. Or at least have been a better reflection of what lay inside him.

The Templar ordered them both out of the room, although he and his companions made certain to shackle their wrists first. Fenris could easily have gotten out of his, but no one seemed overly concerned by that. The Templars must have guessed, correctly, that he wouldn't try to escape as long as Hawke was vulnerable. Somewhere inside her, Evelyn thought she should probably have felt guilty that he was in danger on her account, but then, she wouldn't be in danger if she hadn't been in Tevinter, alone, trying to find him. And could she regret finally feeling whole again? She was never as much herself as she was when Fenris was with her.

Possibly she should feel grateful to the Templars, she thought with wry amusement. After all, they had accomplished what she hadn't managed to—they'd gotten Fenris out of Tevinter and caused him to reconsider the insanity of having left her in the first place. Nothing like one's life being in danger to make one's husband realize he'd been an idiot.

"Hey, what're you smilin' about?" the Templar holding her left arm asked. He sounded offended at the idea that someone in his custody could find something to smile at.

"It wouldn't translate."

"Are you callin' me stupid?"

"You walk around wearing a bucket on your head that you can't hear through or see out of. Is it really that much of a stretch?"

He backhanded her across the face.

"Apparently so," she muttered, wishing she could wipe away the trickle of blood from her lip. It itched.

"Shut up," said the other Templar who held her. This one was a woman. Hawke glanced at the floor, trying to determine from walk pattern or shoes or even some miniscule change in the skirt a way to make this female Templar recognizable the next time they saw her, but there was no discernible difference. Did they choose Templars for their sameness, so one couldn't be told from another? What a sad way to live, Hawke thought, as a nameless, faceless cog in a giant wheel that used you only as a weapon. Her life hadn't always been good, but it had been hers, and she had spent it surrounded by people who were as different from one another, and other people, as they could be.

She looked up, craning her neck to see Fenris, who was visibly watching the walls the way she had on her first journey through the prison, trying to follow the path they were taking. She hoped he was having better luck than she had.

The Templars pulled her to a stop in front of a metal door. One knocked at it firmly with a gauntleted fist, two knocks, then a pause, then three more. The door swung open. She was unshackled and pushed into the room. Fenris was pushed in after her, holding onto her waist to steady himself—and her. Hawke put her hands over his, taking comfort in the familiar warmth of his touch.

"You two are just sickening, did you know that?" Keran moved out of the shadows in the back of the room. "After all these years, haven't you grown tired of all that constant groping?"

Hawke and Fenris exchanged a glance. "Far from it," Hawke responded.

"Well, you will cease at once." Keran nodded to a Templar who had been standing behind the door, and it clanged heavily shut. The Templar took Hawke by the elbow, dragging her toward Keran.

"You can let go. I haven't resisted you yet, have I?" Hawke attempted to dig in her heels, but the stones provided her no leverage and she stumbled instead, nearly taking the Templar down as she fell to her knees.

"Get up, Champion." Keran's voice was dangerously soft. "No, stay back," he said to Fenris. "She'll have to stand on her own for a change."

Evelyn got to her feet, slowly, knees aching from the impact on the hard stone. "That was your fault," she said to the Templar, bracing for a backhand across the mouth for her lippiness. She'd said it to gauge how touchy they were planning to be. It was clear that this was all an extended test, although she wasn't certain if even Keran knew what his ultimate objective really was.

She glanced over her shoulder at Fenris, reassuring him. He remained by the door, waiting, poised to move at the slightest signal.

The Templar holding Evelyn's arm led her across the room, albeit with less pulling than before. As they approached the far wall, she saw the shackles attached to it and missed a step, nearly falling again.

"I don't remember you being this clumsy," said the Templar, and she caught her breath, recognizing Cullen's voice. He hadn't concealed himself beneath a helmet before—why was he now? "Has he done something to you?"

"You know everything that's been done to me. You've been there for most of it, except for Keran running his mouth a few times."

Cullen led her to the shackles. Evelyn considered briefly—did she fight this, or did she trust Fenris to get her out of it? They were still concealed deep inside the Templars' prison … and so far no attempt had been made to do serious harm to either of them.

Taking a deep breath, she allowed Cullen to close the metal around her right wrist, and then her left. "What are you planning to do?" she asked him, as he bent to secure her ankles.

He straightened up, lifting the helmet off his head so he could look her in the eye. "I'm sure nothing that hasn't been done to you before." His tone was uncharacteristically sharp and hostile.

Hawke had to wonder if this was another tactic aimed at keeping her off guard, the change from wearied friend to harsh jailer. "Cullen?"

Perhaps it was her soft, questioning tone, or the way she leaned as far forward as the shackles would allow her to look into his eyes, but he ducked his head, his cheeks reddening. Then he looked up again, meeting her eyes, and Hawke was startled to see that his were absolutely blazing. "How can you have just let him come back to you that way? Like nothing ever happened? Hawke … I would never have left you."

Oh. She swallowed. So that was the reason behind the alteration. Gently, surely, she said, "I would never have loved you."

Cullen pressed his lips together. "So I've gathered. It's always been him, even when it shouldn't have been."

"We can't always choose who becomes the other half of us."

"No. Apparently we can't." He stepped away, back toward where Keran stood in the shadows.

"Elf," Keran said.

"He has a name," Hawke snapped.

"As if I care. Elf!"

Fenris looked at him questioningly, but didn't speak.

"Rip her heart out."

Hawke glanced at Fenris, who didn't move a muscle. The utter stillness of his body told her that he was considering a move toward the two Templars. But his voice was calm when he spoke. "You know I will not do any such thing."

"No. More's the pity. But I want to see your powers at work. Use them on her." Keran sounded like nothing so much as a sulking, spoiled child.

Fenris came toward her, and Hawke braced herself. She had seen this trick used often enough that she knew it wouldn't feel pleasant, but she also knew that it would do little actual harm. She nodded slightly, and Fenris activated his lyrium markings, plunging his hand into her chest.

She closed her eyes, trying to think of other things, trying not to vomit from the feel of his hand in places where it most definitely didn't belong. At last it was over, and he withdrew his hand.

"Fascinating." Keran breathed the word from the darkness. "Hawke, how did that feel?"

"Nauseating."

"Hm." There was a scratching sound, as though he was writing it down. "More. Can you pass your hand through her arm?"

What seemed like hours later, Hawke and Fenris were brought back to their room. He was exhausted from the constantly activated lyrium, practically stumbling on the cobblestones; Hawke was being dragged along by nameless Templars on either side, so wracked with discomfort from being the test subject for the full extent of his powers. Once the door was pulled shut, both of them fell wearily onto the mattress in the corner, seeking each other's embrace for comfort.

"Thank the Maker they left you in here with me."

"I am amazed you would allow me to touch you after those experiences." Despite his words, his arms tightened around her, drawing her against his chest.

Evelyn listened to his steady heartbeat. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Please, Fenris, please don't ever leave me again."

"Never. I swear it."

She let a few more heartbeats pass before speaking again. "Next time, we need to really try to get out of here."

"Should we not wait for Varric? I am certain he will have a plan."

"But can he execute it in time, even with the others helping him?" She shuddered. "I can't go through that again."

"I understand. Next time … we will do our best to escape."

Drowsily, Evelyn nodded, letting his heartbeat lull her to sleep. "Yes … next time."