There was one fact for certain: Carver was going to murder Hawke.

Ditching Bethany to fuck some strange woman he met that night was a new low, even for him and he was sure he would never live this down.

Hawke could make the excuse that he didn't remember anything of last night, but he was sure whatever he did wasn't pretty. He knew how these blackouts usually went. Just how much did he have to apologize for?

And how could he face Bethany when he found her?

He was still handcuffed to the bedpost, his wrists sore and chaffed from being tied all night. The woman, whose name had escaped him, was curled up rather sweetly on his chest slumbering away. She seemed very content, her voluminous curls peeking out of her silk cap like a halo. It was tempting to stay there, to hide from his problems and enjoy the warmth her body brought to his, but even he wasn't that selfish.

Not wanting to wake her, he flooded his hands with magic, shrinking them down into little kitty paws, and slipped out of the cuffs easily. Unfortunately, the movement made her stir, and she wrapped herself closer around Hawke, her eyes fluttering open.

Hawke froze, his hands shifting quickly back to humanoid but the fur refused to leave in his panic. "Shit, I really need to go..." Did she know? How much of his cover did he blow? It didn't matter. Bethany was missing and he needed to find her before something terrible happened.

She raised an eyebrow, a smirk on her full lips. "Well, I would have kicked you out last night but you fell asleep in the middle of the show."

Hawke blinked, mortified. "I didn't."

She didn't seem phased by the sudden growth on his hands and she ran her fingers through the fur curiously. "Multi-purpose indeed." Her amber eyes glimmered as she met his gaze. "Now that was a night to remember," the woman's voice was laced with sarcasm, and then she yawned dramatically.

This was not how the night was supposed to go.

She stretched lazily, her heavy breasts fell on his own and he froze, realizing that she had seen his unshifted form and knew his secret. Would she treat him as less of a man? Worse, tell others?

Hawke clenched his fists in panic, thinking how he should wipe her mind right now, make her forget about their night together. But there was something about the way she was holding him that made him hesitate, something about the way her fingers sprang goosebumps as she inched down his skin.

It wasn't like she had a trustworthy face. No, something about the way her smirk curved told him that she'd sell him out for a sack of gold and a new fancy hat, and yet he couldn't bring himself to mind being so vulnerable with her. Lying in her arms, it just felt right, more right than anything even, as the urgency of his missing sister screamed at the back of his mind.

Hawke's gaze grew soft as he studied the woman's face, a languid smile forming on his lips. If only he could remember her name. "Seems only right that I make this up to you, show you a proper night out."

The woman laughed, making his heart skip at the sound. "Wouldn't you like to?"

He leaned forward nuzzling her thick lips with his own hoping to remember what she tasted like. "I sure would."

She pulled away stiffening up at his forwardness, and Hawke pushed onto his elbows to give her more space.

She tucked a coil back into her cap. "Yea, well we'll see. I've already sampled the goods, and I'm not sure I can continue to sleep with a man who wears Captain Ferelden underwear."

Hawke couldn't help but smile when she called him a man despite playing with his tits. "Those were collector's edition."

That pulled a sweet laugh from the woman. "Precisely my point." She then pinched his nipple in emphasis.

The feeling jolted Hawke's nethers, slickening them. He trailed a finger up her arm. "Ah, but you have yet to fuck me sober. Trust me. It's a much more fulfilling experience."

She raised a thick eyebrow, seeming intrigued before the gold reflecting in her lip reminded him of the amulet and Bethany, who was still missing. Problem was that he barely remembered last night. He remembered talking to Varric, and then everything was blurry a few shots in. There was a fight. He was pushed over. He could feel the fresh deep cuts on his arms where he surely had used blood magic. His energy felt sapped and his head pounded like he had run his mana reserves into the ground. Was it just the booze still in his system?

"Hey, I wasn't wearing an amulet at the beginning of the night, was I?"

She pulled away from the bed, picked up the gold coins she used for earrings, and fastened them in her ears. "Looked a little old-fashioned for your taste."

Hawke leaned forward, eagerly, his curls a frizzy mess. "Did you happen to see where I put it? Did I leave it with Varric?"

"You better not, that little dwarf fellow would have sold it in a second. Not like me," she winked one of her amber eyes.

"We're friends. He wouldn't sell my sis-"

Wait, did she know about Bethany? Surely he didn't spill everything to a stranger on the first night?

She slunk away from him like she suddenly needed the distance. "Last thing you did before you joined me in my room was leave that amulet with your dog. With any luck, it's not stolen."

Hawke slapped his face in remorse. So Bethany spent the night on Boof- again. He guessed he should be grateful that he thought to leave it somewhere safe at all.

She grabbed a towel and some clothes from her dresser from one of the cabinets. When she turned around, she seemed surprised to see Hawke. "You're still here?"

Her voice was sharp, letting him know that he was overstaying his welcome. Still, he couldn't help but say, "Did I get your number?"

She paused, and Hawke could swear for a moment the corner of her mouth curled before she pulled it into a scowl. "You're not getting any ideas, are you? You're funny but I don't do relationships."

Hawke blinked, making sure he heard right, and then laughed. How was he so easy to read? "Do I look like the type of guy that can hold down a relationship?" he deflected. Wasn't that the truth? His last relationship was a right disaster and he still wasn't over his ex. And yet he couldn't help but feel disappointed in the finality of her tone. "I just thought we must have had fun, so if you ever wanted to have fun again, I could look you up?"

The woman stuck her tongue in her cheek, her eyes were crinkling in a mischievous smile. "Yea, I guess you were useful for a few things." She then picked up a pile of clothes and fished through his pocket and somehow unlocked the passcode for his phone, inputting her number. "I'm still worked up from last night. You talked big, but only gave me one orgasm."

Hawke perked up, a sly smile on his face. "I definitely owe you more." Bethany, he reminded himself. "Some other time," he quickly added. "My sister's waiting for me." Lucky knew he shouldn't have dragged his feet flirting, but it was reflexive with her half-naked body on display. He could barely keep his eyes from skimming over her ample soft curves, barely covered up with a crop top. He could see the bottom of her breasts peeking under her black lace top, the gold piercing shining in the cavern of her belly. She was a walking work of art, and Hawke couldn't believe that he couldn't remember his night with her.

She tossed his phone at him with a rueful look on her face. "Now shoo. I have an appointment with my bath."

Hawke caught the phone with one hand, seeing the contact information where she had put her name.

Isabela.

He'd never forget it.

He quickly got up and fished for his clothes, putting them on in record time. He exited Isabela's room, and was grateful to see he was right back where he started: the Hanged Man. It was still early morning and he could hear the voices of patrons who were getting their breakfast at the tavern.

Hawke's shoulders slump, feeling the shame as Isabela's number burned in his pocket. He'd better track down Bethany and start begging for forgiveness now. But would Bethany forgive him? He was sure at this point he was destined to fuck things up again but he didn't expect to be making an ass out of himself so soon.

Bethany must be hurting, must be so scared to be trapped like that. She needed someone by her side. She needed someone to be there for her and what did he do? Ditch her at the first opportunity.

What a shitty big brother he was.

He slunk to Varric's room, hearing voices coming from inside.

"You're spoiling him, Daisy. He's already had breakfast."

"Oh, that's impossible. Look at that face," he could hear Merrill's voice ring out from inside making him pause in hesitation. Suddenly he was very aware that he needed a shower for he surely smelled some terrible combination of booze, sweat, and sex, and having Merrill aware of that made him nervous for some reason.

He quickly checked his breath, cringing that it was also terrible. A quick look at the camera of his phone told him that his hair was completely ruined. There was no way he was not going to look like a mess. Slumping his shoulders in defeat he opened the door and let himself into the room.

Varric looked up from his laptop, peering over his reading glasses as Merrill and Boof perked up in unison with the same excitable energy.

"Hawke," Merrill was kneeling over Boof holding a sausage link, which the hound was following closely with his snout. Merrill seemed to forget that she was feeding Boof and popped up from the ground, dusting herself off with one hand. "You're back! I have to say I had a lot of fun last night."

Hawke blinked, flushing. If that meant what he thought it meant, Carver was going to double murder him. "We had sex?" Hawke blurted out.

Merrill froze, her emerald eyes going wide as her tawny beige skin went beet red in embarrassment. She started to babble, her arms flapping rapidly as she spoke fast, "What!? Sex? You and me having sex? I mean you were obviously already preoccupied with Isabela. I'm not sure why I would be there at all. In fact, I don't even know why I'm here right now? Should I go? I should go, right?" Merrill paced in a circle seeming to want to find an exit to find that Hawke had blocked off the only one. In her shadow Boof stalked her, salivating over the sausage that was promised, patiently waiting for it to be handed to him.

"Wait, Daisy, before you go, you might want to hand Hawke's sister back," Varric chuckled with a raised eyebrow.

It was only then that Hawke realized that the amulet was not on Boof's shoulders where Isabela said he had left it, but around Merrill's neck.

Hawke hung his head in guilt. He was grateful that Merrill was taking care of Beth in his place. Someone should. Still, he needed to man up and own up to what he had done. Hawke held out his hand, trying to redirect the conversation. "Merrill, can I have Bethany? I'd like to apologize."

Merrill stopped, her eyes glazing over as if she was listening to something, and then she stiffened, looking uncomfortable. Merrill bit her lip, meeting Hawke's gaze as she said, "She said you can save your apology. She doesn't want to hear it."

Hawke blinked not sure he had heard right. "Excuse me?"

Merrill shrunk and then froze for a few moments as she listened. "She also says she'd rather have some space from you and oh, I'm not going to say that." Merrill flushed, biting her lip as she glanced at Hawke with apologetic eyes. "She's just...very mad. It's ok, though, Hawke. She can stay with me. She's been staying with me. Bethany and I became good friends last night. I don't mind, really."

Hawke flinched, realizing he must have fucked up bad if Bethany was refusing to talk to him. "Yea, I deserve that." He would be eating humble pie for a long time to come. "Can you take care of Beth for me?"

Merrill's face softened at him. "Of course," she nodded. "Don't worry she'll be safe with me."

Boof whined, nudging Merrill's hand as he begged for the sausage that was still being denied him.

Merrill smiled at his hound, scritching the bottom of his chin. "Oh, I'm sorry Boof. Here's your snack."

Merrill handed the sausage over, and giggled when the hound slurped it up without even tasting it and proceeded to luck the grease off her hand. Hawke couldn't help but melt at the sight. Merrill was a sweet girl. She'd be so good for Carver.

Boof suddenly trotted up to Hawke and gave him a guttural whine.

"Oh, is that potty, buds?" Hawke ruffled his ears.

Merrill perked up. "I'll take him." She whistled at Boof like she had been doing it all her life. Boof stood at attention immediately siding up to Merrill like she was the one he had imprinted on. "Bethany says you have business with Varric."

Hawke sighed. He knew that Bethany needed space, and she deserved it, but he had already amped himself up for an apology and leaving it unsaid left him with restless energy. He knew he had to make it up to Bethany, but at this point, he didn't know how.

Merrill disappeared down the Hanged Man with Boof, Hawke's eyes following her as he took a seat beside Varric. He seemed to be trying to mind his own business as he typed away, the light from the word document reflecting in his glasses.

Hawke was glum, but he didn't want his foul mood to affect Varric so he forced a smile and nudged him with an elbow. "Told you I'd break you out of your writing funk."

"Actually, genius, these are spreadsheets for the accounts of the Deep Roads expedition. I'm making sure our numbers add up."

Hawke deflated into the table, his finger tracing the geometric designs. "Oh."

Varric took off his glasses to clean them, a wry smile on his face, "but I did start a new book last night."

Hawke raised his head from his arms. "Oh? What about?"

"Top secret," Varric placed his glasses in his jacket pocket. "But let's say it is inspired by a certain someone."

Hawke grinned at that. "I guess I am inspiring sometimes." He leaned in closer. "So when can I read it?"

Varric snapped his laptop close. "Eh, no more book talk. You wanted to be a partner, so listen. We need to talk about how to get this Deep Roads Expedition off the ground so we have something to profit from this partnership."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. He did recall pitching himself to Varric at some part of the night but thought that was a hazy dream. "I mean what's stopping us. You have the team. The location-"

Varric held up a finger- "what we have is a treasure map so old that we're not sure if the markers still exist. And it only depicts the Deep Roads. That doesn't tell us how to enter from the surface, but Deep Roads entrances are expensive secrets. We could bribe the surface families that still hold the locations to their thaigs but that would eat too far into our profits. So that's why we need to bribe a Grey Warden."

Lucky blinked, feeling his father's presence all over again. "Where are we going to find a Grey Warden in Kirkwall? I wasn't aware there were outposts here."

Varric grinned. "I hope you don't mind rumor chasing. There's a Grey Warden who has been helping Darktown refugees for no charge but I don't know. Have you seen the inhabitants down there, or tried to interact with them? I think you'd have to be a saint to tolerate the smell. He sounds too good to be true."

Hawke smirked. "Want to bet that he has a skeleton or two?"

Varric chuckled at that. "Not taking that bet. That's too easy. The only true saints are in stories." He took a swig of his coffee and then eyed Hawke over the rim of his cup. "I also talked to Sunshine last night. Freaky shit, honestly."

It took a moment for Hawke to register that Varric meant Bethany. "Oh? What did she have to say?"

"Well, honestly, after I let her vent about how stupid you were last night-"

"Fair," Hawke winced.

"We talked about the Deep Roads expedition mostly. She had a lot of questions about logistics. Wanted to make sure you weren't being swindled. She's a smart kid. Asked some tough questions."

Hawke felt guilty. Even now Bethany was still trying to take care of him. He was glad she had Merrill to talk to at least. Though what they were talking about only the Maker knew.

"Honestly it's a big ask, getting your sister's body back. Are you sure you shouldn't be looking at other options?" Varric asked.

Hawke studied Varric, wondering what his angle was for helping Bethany. Was there profit he didn't see or was this concern of a friend? "Like what? Do a body-snatching?"

Varric scratched his chin. "Well, there was a story about the Hero of Fereldan traveling with a golem that had their mind intact. Maybe you could build something similar for your sister. I mean it must be better than sitting in an amulet."

Hawke's jaw hardened until it almost cracked. "What kind of solution is that? I want her to be able to touch, breathe, eat, bear children, to love. I can't ask her to be satisfied with a life made of stone."

Varric held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "You don't have to. Just thought I might steer you towards some research that might help."

Hawke dropped the fight in his shoulders. What was he doing? Varric was just trying to help. "Thanks. I'll look into it." It was worth the research. Maybe knowing how one transfixed a soul onto a golem could translate to transfixing a soul onto something flesh and bone. The idea was making his mind turn. He could do it. Build a body for Beth. What would that take? Some dark research, certainly… Perhaps it was worth it to make a trip into the Circle's libraries and 'borrow' some materials. Yes, today was a disaster, but if Bethany could walk in the sun again today would be forgotten.

Hawke was now buzzing with energy. "Alright, then, let's go bribe a warden-"

"Wait," Varric got up from his seat and got a towel from his closet, and threw it at Hawke. "First, hop in my shower. Half the success of a good business meeting is smell, and you're not what I'd call a bouquet of roses."

Hawke lifted his arm only to smell a foul odor wafting from them. He crinkled his nose. "Good looking out, dude." Then his grin turned sly as he slung the towel around his neck. "Any chance you'll be joining me?"

Varric barked out a sharp laugh. "You look like you've already had too much fun today. Maybe next time. I'll go order breakfast for you."

Lucky smirked, not only was that not a 'no', but the dwarf was even feeding him? It was only a matter of time before he cracked.

Lucky began undressing as he headed towards the bathroom, his pants hitting the floor before he even reached his destination. "You don't know what you're missing," Lucky crooned, leaving the door open for Varric to watch.

Varric shook his head in laughter, not the reaction Hawke wanted, and reached for the doorknob. "Nice try, Hawke." And Varric slammed the door in Hawke's face.

—-

Carver stirred the chicken soup he was making, the same one his father used to cook when he was sick. His mother knew all their father's recipes, but Maker forgive her, she had only half his talent for cooking. It wasn't for lack of trying, but it wasn't long before the children started taking over for their mother in the kitchen. They used to take turns making meals but with Bethany gone, it was starting to fall more and more on Carver, something he was quickly becoming resentful of.

Leandra used to do household chores, albeit always poorly, but now that her depression was in full swing she did not do much more than pray. It was always Carver's father that showed them the tricks of folding laundry neat, and how to get no creases when making the bed. Leandra, bless her heart, had never had to clean most of her life, and so her work was always clumsier.

Now the house was a mess, mostly thanks to Gamlen, and Carver was doing his best to keep up with the cleaning. But he was determined to not be a maid, so he often left his Uncle's messes, the half-drunk beer bottles, the butts of cigarettes, the half-eaten sandwiches. He at least stacked the dishes at the corner of the counter, but the pile was starting to keel over and they were starting to run out of silverware. Carver had to clean before he could even start making the soup, and he almost broke the bowl in irritation.

It was just like Lucky to leave him scrubbing pots and cooking while he went off to play the hero. When was it going to be his turn?

Leandra stayed by the fireplace praying to the shrine of Andraste, clutching her framed photo of Malcolm when he was still alive and with the rest of the family. The Chant filled the quiet day and night, when Leandra wasn't asking her dead husband for guidance and the Maker for forgiveness. She was acting like Lucky was dead, and like Bethany was a demon. Thankfully she had finished the last bottle of wine, ending her drinking fugue, but she threw the empty bottles at Carver when he told her there wasn't money for more.

Carver wasn't sure what else to do but clean up the bottles and start cooking.

Carver tasted the soup. The salty chicken was tasty and strong in the broth. He wasn't as good of a chef as Bethany, but he hoped it would be enough to lift his mother's spirits.

He poured himself a bowl and one for his mother, making sure they each got a full chicken thigh and plenty of cabbage.

Carver placed the bowl on the coffee table and turned on the TV. "Mom, I made lunch. Come eat."

On the news was a ghastly story about the Chantry being defiled with blood magic and dead bodies. Carver prayed that his brother had nothing to do with it and changed the channel to one of his mother's favorite soap operas. Two women were fighting on the screen, tears in their eyes. Carver ate in boredom as one woman slapped the other and they started wrestling trying to tear at each other's hair.

His mother sat down next to him with slumped shoulders, clutching the family photo frame, but didn't touch her food, her eyes glazed over.

The women screamed on the screen as two men tried to tear them apart each shouting them down. Finally, his mother said, "You know you're my only child now, right?"

Carver set down the chicken thigh he was chewing on with gritted teeth. "Mom…" but he stopped. What could he say that wouldn't upset her. Trying to convince her to give Bethany a chance only made her angry. Bringing up Lucky made her angry. Even the expedition seemed to make her angry, and she begged him to stay home with her where he would be safe.

Carver stiffened, feeling the need to comfort his mother. But he was not Bethany. He didn't have the words to soothe one's heart. Instead, he placed a hand over his mother's and squeezed it.

She placed her hand over his, bringing the back of his hand to her cheek as tears slid down.

Suddenly the door and wall shuddered as someone knocked violently.

Leandra squeezed her eyes shut. "If it's that bastard I disowned, tell him to go somewhere else."

Carver's heart sank. So his mother was intent on following through with that.

He released her hand and walked to the door, cracking it open. Sure enough, Lucky was outside with his hand in his pocket. He looked like he had changed clothes to dark ripped jeans and a button-up graphic tee and Boof was out of his harness. Carver noticed that the amulet was not around his neck. He closed the door behind him so his mother wouldn't be upset by what she heard. "Did you lose Bethany already?"

"No," his brother said a little too quickly, petting Boof. "She just made a friend. She's hanging out with Merrill. In fact, we're about to do business with a Grey Warden if you want to join us."

Now, that was surprising, but Carver couldn't help but feel glad of it. In the past, Lucky would be so quick to leave him out, and Carver so badly wanted to be part of something that meant something. And this Deep Roads Expedition, getting the Hawke Company on the map, meant something.

But Carver thought of his mother back inside, still starving herself. Would she do anything to take care of herself if Carver went off on some mission? "I can't," he gritted his teeth. "Mom's in a bad way. I haven't seen her like this since Dad passed."

Lucky looked down at his feet, obviously guilty. "Good," he said injecting false cheer into his voice. "You be the good son. Mom needs at least one."

Boof boofed, licking Hawke's hand.

Carver didn't want to feel sorry for his brother, but Lucky was always a mama's boy even when he was young. He was so used to being the favorite gifted child, especially when he was in trouble. His mother had never gone so far as disowning Lucky before, and Carver could tell Lucky was not handling it well at all.

Carver put a hand on Lucky's shoulder. "Take care of the expedition. I'll take care of Mom. Don't worry."

Lucky forced a grin and said. "Dude, we're going to be so rich Mom will have to forgive me."

Carver rolled his eyes, knowing his mother was not so easily bought, but he could humor Lucky for now.

—-

Bethany was determined to make Lucky beg for an apology before she would forgive him. It wasn't just that he had ditched her to have sex with a woman he'd just met, but they had defiled the Chantry, spilled blood in a place most Holy. How could the Maker forgive her for this?

She could still feel her veins opening up, the twist inside him that hungered for blood. The way he puppetted the pirates to slaughter each other so easily was something out of a horror movie. She knew her brother had gone down a dark path after she died, but blood magic? She could not reconcile her faith with what she had witnessed and felt her brother do.

Bethany had never taken a life other than a darkspawn's before, never could get the images of the bleeding men's faces out of her head. She knew it would haunt her every time she closed her eyes. How did Lucky live with it?

But Merrill didn't seem much better. She had also used her blood to attack the pirates and thought nothing wrong with the deeds they had done. In fact, the girl found it exciting and fun.

When Bethany asked how Merrill felt about using blood magic to murder, Merrill didn't even blink. "We didn't have a choice. They attacked us. It might be murder but it was murder in defense. Better them than us, anyway."

Perhaps a Dalish elf who was constantly defending themselves from humans might see it that way. They might even call the desecration of the holy temple justice, but Bethany, even being half-elven, could not find peace with it. She was taught that all life was supposed to be sacred and to take a life in the heart of the Chantry seemed like a sin she couldn't come back from. Did the Dalish even see the evil in blood magic? Did they not hear the temptations from the demons or feel the corruptness of energy?

If Bethany was being honest she would rather not talk to a blood mage, but Merrill didn't give her much of a choice. After Hawke ditched her on Boof, Merrill felt rather sorry for her and volunteered to play host, and Bethany was just too polite to ask to go back on Boof. Still, it was getting more tempting with how chatty the girl was.

It felt like Merrill was always rambling about a story or asking a question. She was curious about the gas Varric put in his car, the advertisements painting the city walls, and how the streetlights worked in coordination with each other. It felt like the morning became a documentary about how the city worked, and while Bethany was trying her best to humor Merrill, she was still rather upset by the discovery that her brother was maleficar.

Their father had always warned them that blood magic was for the weak and foolish. That it was only for the domain of demons and magisters. She wasn't sure how her brother could even rationalize this. Blood magic was evil. There was no doubt. But could Bethany call her brother evil when he had sacrificed so much for her? Could she call Merrill evil when she had taken Bethany in so readily? The Maker's world was not black and white.

Still, she didn't trust blood magic. It was only a matter of time before temptations would become too great and someone would slip. She just prayed she wouldn't live to see it.

Rumor-chasing led them straight to Darktown. After scaring off some thugs that mistook them for easy prey, they found themselves wandering around in the maze of a sewer system, Varric and Hawke arguing about the right way to go. Merrill had many questions about Kirkwall and the human world and, while Bethany tried her best to explain what she could, she just didn't feel like talking much.

"I don't understand where are people's homes down here? There are no houses, just holes in the walls."

"I think those are their homes," Bethany answered, feeling sorrow at the pitiful state of the homeless there. Her uncle's shack sure looked luxurious in comparison.

"This is all prime real estate, Daisy," Varric gestured to a severed finger being eaten by a rat, "usually paid for in body parts."

Bethany shivered alongside Merrill as the rats fought for dominance over their snack.

Merrill lagged behind Varric and Lucky who were busily discussing which direction the sigil under the lantern was pointing. Hawke insisted that the marker was pointing right, but Varric said that was the trick of the paint and arrow pointed in the opposite direction. Merrill took a look and concluded that it looked like someone had drawn a penis over whatever the sigil was supposed to be and it was still quite visible through the paint, ruining any guesses she could have made.

Boof stood at attention sniffing the air and growling at any vagabonds that got too close, effectively warning away most people.

Bethany knew there was something on Merrill's mind because she hadn't noticed that she had stopped in a puddle. Bethany could feel the squelching mud in between the toes of Merrill's sole-less shoes. Merrill's eyes stayed trained on Lucky,the way they had for most of the trip, her heart thudding every time he glanced in her direction. Bethany could tell Merrill wanted to talk to her about her brother and though that was the last thing she wanted, she said, "If you have something to say, then say it."

Merrill stiffened, her hands tightening into fists. "You have every right to be mad at your brother. I can understand I'm not your first choice to hang out with…but I hope you know he loves you."

Bethany felt suddenly annoyed that Merrill would inject her opinion after knowing her only a day. "Of course he loves me. Doesn't make him less of an asshole."

Merrill flinched, and Bethany could feel her discomfort. "Of course, you're right. But not anyone would sell his soul to the witch of the wilds. I think Hawke had a…human moment."

Bethany was surprised. She had not asked about Lucky's meeting with Flemeth, though Merrill could sense what was on her mind. And the truth just made her angry. No wonder mother was so distraught. Bethany had no idea what Lucky was thinking or why he thought she would want this but while she felt like she wasn't supposed to get mad at his sacrifice, she was infuriated. He could have let her rest instead of subjecting her to this agony.

Of course, Merrill also had a school-girl crush as deep as the Deep Roads. She would be willing to wave away whatever flaws she saw in Bethany's brother in hopes of having a chance with him.

Merrill could sense that she had said something wrong. "I'm sorry. That was none of my business."

"It wasn't," Bethany confirmed a little snappily. "Merrill you're a sweet girl, but you don't know my brother- don't know how typical this is." Should she warn Merrill about her brother and take away the allure, before Merrill got swept away in a romance and got her heart broken? At this point, it almost seemed like Bethany's duty.

"You see back in Lothering both my brothers had a crush on this girl named Peaches. She was a sweet girl, a little naive. The thing is Carver had asked her out first, and they became official. Then Lucky asked her out and she dumps Carver for him." She let that sink in for a moment, feeling Merrill's gut quiver. "Of course, Lucky claims he didn't know that Peaches and Carver were going out, but it doesn't matter. He would've probably dated her anyway 'cause he cares about himself first. And you know what the worst part is?"

Merrill was upset hearing this, but Bethany felt she would rather upset her now than let her have any delusions about what kind of man Lucky was. She could tell Merrill didn't want to ask but still, she said, "what?"

Bethany shook at the memory. "He broke that girl's heart, too. Ended up cheating on her with her best friend and now they're enemies." Peaches and Bethany were almost friends. Well more like acquaintances but she definitely didn't wish the girl ill-will. "I love my brother but he's a total fuckboy."

"Fuckboy?" Merrill repeated.

"A man who will say anything to get someone into bed. Drunk or not, he would have ditched me, guaranteed. Alcohol is just an excuse he doesn't deserve."

Bethany could feel Merrill trying to wrap her head around the news. "I guess I understand." Then Merrill smiled, surprising Bethany. "If you're looking out for me, does that mean we're actually friends, or are you still mad at me for being a blood mage?"

Bethany winced. She guessed her thoughts were not as hidden as she thought. "I'm still not sure how I feel about the blood magic, to be honest."

"It's just magic like any other magic. And I only use the blood of myself and willing participants. Not all blood mages want to dominate and control people. There are many useful practical applications to blood magic that have nothing to do with demon summoning or sacrifice."

Bethany scoffed. "What good can come from blood magic? Demons teach it. You'll get possessed!"

"Demons are just spirits of different purposes. Your Chantry teaches a lot of fear where it's not necessary and invites contempt with the Spirits. But it's ok, I know you don't know how to speak to them yet. That could be a lesson I teach you."

Bethany shrank. She knew her father and brother were somniari but they always taught her to avoid interacting with spirits, to treat them like a natural disaster and give them a wide berth. What Merrill was saying seemed antithetical to all her father taught her.

Suddenly they were interrupted by Lucky's voice. "You girls gossiping about me? The Warden's this way!"

Merrill picked up her staff and hurried along, trying to hide her pounding heart as she trailed behind Hawke.

After following the lanterns deep into the sewers. Red banners were serving as makeshift decorations, though the coloring had faded to dust and there were giant frayed holes throughout them. Finally, at the end of a dead-end hallway, they came to a door marked by a strange sigil that looked like a circle breaking apart into pieces. There was also a sign with a mabari crossed out that said 'no dogs.'

Hawke pushed open the door, allowing Merrill in first. Her eyes fell on the sign and then at Boof who was excitedly snuffling the ground at her feet. "We're breaking the law. It says 'no dogs.'" She was whispering for some reason.

Hawke waved her off as he continued to hold the door open for Varric. "Boof has a permit." He gestured to the Service Animal collar.

The room was lit only by candlelight and people were sleeping in makeshift cots made out of crates and rags. The walls were slick and wet and the air was heavy with rank mildew and mold. In little pots, sticks of incense attempted to drown out the acrid scents, but the fresh pine seemed to sour in the stale air.

Boof was excitedly burying his nose in the ground, trotting in circles as he acclimated to the smells. Suddenly, a low rumbling growl echoed against the walls.

Something fuzzy and orange about the size of a football raced straight for the Boof. A yowling filled the room as the hound was chased into a corner by a rather feral-looking cat intent on ending the dog's life. Boof whined and yelped his eyes pleading for someone to do something while the cat fluffed up, batting angrily at the pup.

"Boof!" Hawke rushed forward scooping the cat by the scruff only for the creature to jerk around and claw at Hawke's eyes. The cat seized Hawke's head as he screamed running in circles trying to pry the feline off. "Ah, is this thing blighted?" Patients stirred as Boof started chasing Hawke, baying his head off as the feral thing bit and clawed at Hawke's face, spitting poison and yelling bloody murder.

Suddenly a tall blond skinny man in feathered pauldrons came rushing in from the back, a bloody apron tied over his rather long trench coat. "Do we have intruders?"

Everything seemed to stand still for Bethany as she gazed at the man for the first time. He was beautiful, not in a classic sense, but more like how a painting was beautiful, or the sunset was beautiful. But he was far too skinny like a rail. And yet she couldn't help but wish she had a body so she could be wrapped around him. His thin mouth gaped open as his angular features twisted into a scowl.

He marched up to Hawke and plucked the cat easily from his head. The cat went limp in his hands, happily turning to jelly as it batted at the man's feathers. The Grey Warden seemed unsympathetic to Hawke's scratched-up face and stared down his pointy nose as he towered over Hawke. "There's only one rule I tell you bloody Fereldens when coming here and that's not to bring your dogs. There's only a giant sign on the door." His voice turned babyish as he scratched under the cat's chin. It twitched its mangy chewed ear in delight, purring like a motorboat. "Ser Pouncey's got PTSD from the Deep Roads and it's not good for his stress."

Bethany couldn't help but smile. It seemed like someone shared her brother's gift for naming. She did feel better after seeing Lucky get mauled by a cat, though the guilt immediately set in when she saw how deep the scratches looked.

Boof nuzzled Hawke's leg, whining as he asked for consolation.

Hawke scowled, holding his bleeding cheeks. "What kind of Ferelden are you? That's not a proper pet, that's an overgrown rat."

The man gasped, placing a hand over his mouth. "How dare you! Ser Pounce-A-Lot is a beautiful Ferelden tabby short hair. Your mutt doesn't even compare!" He shook his head, his blond bangs falling in his hazel eyes. "Besides I only grew up in Ferelden so I don't consider myself a native, thank the Maker."

Hawke squinted his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The man continued to scratch the mangy cat's chin as the creature purred wildly. "I think someone with half a brain could figure that out."

Bethany sighed. It was just like Lucky to let his stupid Ferelden pride make him forget that he needed this man. She wondered if he would ever grow up.

Thankfully, Varric stepped in front of Lucky, his hands held up in a gesture of peace. "Now, now, gentlemen, let's set our differences aside, and let's focus on something we can all agree on." Then Varric opened up his jacket and flashed a pocketful of cash. "Word is you're a Grey Warden."

"I was." The man raised a shaggy eyebrow at Varric. "Who in the Maker's name are you supposed to be?"

The dwarf bowed, flashing a gold tooth in his smirk. "Varric Tethras, at your service. And this oaf of a Ferelden is my partner, Lucky Hawke. And what may we call you?"

The man narrowed his eyes as he cuddled his cat closer to him, inspecting the odd group in confusion. "Anders, if you must."

Lucky sniffed, as he crossed his arms, refusing to meet the man's gaze.

Varric placed a hand on Lucky's arm. "You're from Ferelden so you know how they are about their dogs. Hawke, though, understands that as a guest, we will respect your rules."

Hawke then sighed heavily. "Fine," he spat, and then dramatically fell onto his knees in front of Boof, placing his forehead on the pooch's as he cradled the dog's face. "I'm sorry, bud. It seems the cruel winds of fate must have me abandon you pre-emptively. But just know- this is not my will! We will reunite, I swear it."

Varric chuckled as Merrill giggled and Anders rolled his eyes. Bethany sighed. Lucky was such a drama queen.

Hawke pressed his cheek up to Boof's cheek who whined mournfully. "Do not weep, sweet prince. We will be reunited."

"Oh sweet blood of Andraste, just get him out of here!" the Grey Warden pinched his pointed nose, though there was a smile fighting to break out on his lips.

Hawke squeezed his eyes shut as he pushed Boof away abruptly. "You heard the cruel, cruel man, Boof. You're not wanted here. Now guard the hall. That's right. You heard me! Go!"

Boof bayed mournfully walking just outside of the door and sitting down with a heavy plop. He looked back at the Grey Warden, whining with big, sorrowful brown eyes.

Anders simply draped his cat over his shoulders like a wet towel and shut the door on Boof's face. The cat yawned and lie flat over Anders' shoulders. "Now that's better. Lucky, was it? Sit down and I'll take a look at your scratches."

Hawke blinked, looking like he wanted to argue, but he obediently took a seat on a crate nearby.

As Anders approached the desk, Ser Pounce-A-Lot slunk off Anders' shoulders and onto his desk, padding off into a corner to clean his face with his front paw. Anders grabbed Hawke's face examining it. "Sorry, Pounce got you deep."

A smirk tugged on Hawke's lips. "Seems like I could use some tender care, then."

Bethany's stomach shrank at the flirtatious tone in Lucky's voice. Him, too? She could barely keep up with all of Lucky's crushes. Bethany watched carefully as the Grey Warden's cheeks flushed slightly. Of course, he'd find Lucky attractive. Everyone did.

"Don't know if I could do tender, but I'll take care. Now, hold still."

Bethany could feel the air twist as the Fade opened up to Anders. The air became heavy, like the clouds gathering rain. His hands and eyes glowed blue, cracks of light splitting his face. Anders caressed Hawke's face with a soft brush of his fingers, the deep cuts melting away until there was nothing but smooth freckled skin. Bethany could sense that even Merrill was jealous of the gentle way Anders was doting on Lucky, and she couldn't help but feel sorry for her and herself.

How Bethany wished she and Lucky were switched, so she could know what it was like to have Anders' fingers on her skin. So she could have someone hold her. To have someone comfort her through her fears. How she had taken the physical world for granted. This void prison would take everything she ever wanted.

She ached for something soft and familiar again, to make her forget that her brother was damned and arrogantly defying the Maker. Still, even as she worried for her brother, she couldn't help but feel jealous as Anders tenderly stroked each of her brother's cuts. Each caress was a reminder of what was taken from her. Would she always be a ghost, dependant on her hosts to even feel the echo of life?

If only someone would break the amulet and free her.

"So," Anders shook the magic off of his hands, his eyes fading back to their hazel color. "I have to say if you're looking for a warden, you're out of luck. I'm an ex-warden. I ran away when they tried to make me get rid of my cat."

Hawke snorted. "I can't imagine why they'd want to get rid of the beast."

The charm that Anders found for Hawke dropped and he went back to sneering. "Yea, well your mutt's not winning the country fair either."

Hawke opened his mouth to argue only for Varric to interject before it spiraled further. "We don't actually need a warden. You wouldn't happen to have the maps to Deep Roads entrances in the Free Marches."

Anders squinted. "I might…but why do you need them?"

Hawke leaned forward, his curls falling into his eyes. "We have a Deep Roads expedition we're funding and we might be interested in buying one of those maps off you if you're interested in doing business."

Anders rolled his eyes. "Yes, I have maps, but if I needed coin I have the skills to get it myself…I want nothing to do with the Deep Roads, or-" he paused, seeming to change his mind when he caught sight of Hawke's guns. "Though…a favor for a favor. Is that something up your alley?"

Hawke smirked, holding up a finger. "Let's be clear: I don't do anything involving animals or children."

At that Anders laughed, which only made Hawke's grin smirk wider. Then Anders' smile suddenly fell. "Look, I…have a friend who has been trapped in the Circle. If you help me free him, you'll have my Deep Roads map and me with it."

Bethany knew that Lucky wouldn't need convincing. Those words were all that was needed for her brother to defy the Chantry.

A slow grin spread on Lucky's face. "Fuck yeah. I'm in."

Just what did Lucky sign them up for?