Burned into his flesh and in his soul was an understatement. Magic had destroyed his body, his mind.

Fenris couldn't stomach it nor himself. He was overwhelmed by a strange feeling of wanting to die.

As long as you're not planning on doing anything stupid, Hawke's words came in to his mind.

He reminded himself of his personal mission, and that suicide was a sin, and let out a deep sigh. It didn't quiet the feeling, but it distracted it a little.

He just couldn't believe he was this broken. He knew, of course. He'd always known. He was convinced it was something as terrible and real as his pain was. But hearing his life being put out so coldly and clinically made it worse, made it too real, and much too cold. What was he going to do? Journal? Make Hawke his personal nurse? Ask for sick leave five thousand times a year? None of those were options.

He felt crazy, deffective. Useless.

He feared one day still in his adulthood his body would give out. Then what would he do? Let himself get captured or wait to die in a bed?

He was alone.

He was alone.

He was alone.

He punched a lyrium vein which exploded into little shards.

How could freedom be worse? How could he fall when he was safer, farther away?

How was this fair?

Primaeval Thaig, Day 9

"Oh, I swear I'm gonna find that son-of-a-bitch—sorry, Mother—and I will kill him!" Varric shouted as Bartrand trapped them in the crypt.

Hawke kicked the door and hurt only herself. "I'll have his head by morning!" she shouted angrily, holding onto her foot.

"Urgh… Let's just hope we find a way out of here."

"All roads lead to Minrathous," Fenris said calmly.

"That's really not where I'd rather go," Varric said grumpily.

"It's just an expression."

"It's a sucky expression."

"I was just trying to help."

"Well, quit it. This ain't your specialty."

"Okay, okay—" Hawke said, coming in between them. "Dividing us is just what Bartrand wants. Let's try to keep the anger for whatever fucked up shit is behind the next door."

"Agreed," Carver said, following her.

Mojo also agreed.

"Bloody Stone, what were those things?" Varric asked fearfully.

"If the Stone is sentient, couldn't it get so bored not seeing anything happen around for a thousand years that it starts creating its own dolls, like they say the Maker did?" Hawke offered.

"Great. Now I have to worry about religion being historical fact!" Varric said, kicking a wall.

"Hey, it's okay—"

"How can it be okay?!" He flailed his arms and rubbed his forehead. "First an ogre, then a dragon, then my brother leaves me to die, and now this? Remind me never to listen to my intuition again!"

"But your intuition was good. Had you come here without us, who knows in what shit you'd be right now?"

"Hmph. Good point."

"Let's just worry about dying when we get to it."

"When?"

"If we get to it," she corrected herself.

"We will not," Fenris said, walking. He was much too determined to redeem himself.

"Enough," a strange rock wraith commanded. "You have proven your mettle. I would not see these creatures harmed without need."

"These creatures?" Hawke asked.

"They will not assault you further. Not without my permission."

"What in the Void are you?" Varric demanded.

"They hunger," the wraith said. "The prophane have lingered here for time beyond memory, feeding on the stones until the need is all they know."

"They eat the lyrium? Sounds like a healthy diet," Hawke said, looking around. There was red lyrium everywhere intermingled with blue. It didn't look right.

"I am not as they are. I am… a visitor," the wraith said.

"Yeah, no, we got that," she said.

"I would not see my feast end. I sense your desire. You wish to leave this place, but you need my aid to do so."

"Don't do it," Anders whispered.

"What are our options?" Varric asked desperately.

Fenris shook his head tiredly.

"I'll have to decline, if it's all cool with you. You said you won't attack us any further. I don't want to attack you either. Will you let me pass?"

"Are you joking?" Fenris said.

"Pick your battles," Hawke replied.

"Hm," the wraith said, thinking about it. "A shame. Very well."

Fenris looked at her like she was crazy. It did pacify an enemy, but this was not just any enemy.

"So, what's behind this door?" she asked the demon.

"I'm not going to sit here and make casual conversation with you," the wraith said.

"Aw, can't we be civil?" she said with a little smile. "It must be boring here all by yourself."

The demon's eyeball rolled. "I would much prefer it if that were true."

"So, there are others?" she said. "Are they going to attack me?"

"That is my hope," the demon said, and left.

They looked at each other.

"Did we really just chit-chat with a demon?" Varric said incredulously.

"Well, we did find out we have to brace ourselves," Hawke said, shrugging.

"Enough," Fenris said, preparing his sword. "Are you ready?"

Mojo came beside him and took on a fighting stance.

"Born ready!" Hawke said, punching her hand.

"Ok, where did the Veil go?" she said, as a demon twenty times the rock wraith's size came up to greet them.

"Holy mother of…" Varric whispered.

"I'm going to go support," Anders said, preparing his staff.

"Just don't heal Fenris, okay?" Hawke reminded him.

"With pleasure!" Anders said.

"Let's finish this. I am eager to punch him," Fenris said sourly.

"Anders, Varric—take cover behind the pillars. Carver, Fenris—come with me. Try to stay in my line of sight."

The battle went on for decades. It could morph, it could boulder, it could animate an army of rock wraiths. At one point it became useless. Anders fell. Carver fell. Hawke soon followed.

Fenris ran to the opposite end of the room, and taunted the thing to re-appear to him. He kept a merry-go-round until Varric helped Hawke up.

Then she had to make a choice. Die, or break her word and lyrium up like no tomorrow.

She flailed her arms in the air to form force waves and they started to burn through the demon's field and dismember it a little. Mojo helped dismember it a little more. Rocks flew in every direction. Fenris held a rock wraith to him as a shield and blocked the path so Varric could wake up Carver and Anders.

But it was just unwinnable. The demon was too powerful, and they were growing weaker by the second. At one point almost everyone was down. The demon temporarily exploded and shook the ground and they fell to the floor. Then it impaled the ground and created a magnetic wave that pulled them towards its flame. Fenris grabbed onto a rock on the floor and tried to resist with all his strength. He saw Hawke slide right beside him. Quickly, instinctively, he grabbed her hand.

His heart sank when he dropped her hand, but she managed to keep a force wave enough for him to grab her again. But it was too much. He was going to lose his grip on the rock.

In the blur of red, grey and white, he heard her scream at him to let go.

"Trust me!" she shouted.

He growled and let go of her hand, and was swiftly knocked off by a catapulting rock.

Hawke force-waved herself up and gulped all the lyrium potions from Anders's pocket behind the pillar. Then she let herself get pulled to the rock giant. She looked the demon in the eye and touched it. Her eyes swiftly became grey. Her head fell back as if she'd lost consciousness, and in the next second, the demon's rock skeleton fell apart, empty and lifeless.

She fell to her knees and… fell down entirely.

Deep Roads Camp, Day 13

She woke up to her face molested by Mojo's slobber. "Mojo, stop—"

"Thaaaaank fuck," Carver said as he came by her bedside. He had a pretty nasty cut on his face and his non-dominant arm was in a sling.

"Wakey wakey," Anders said, ruffling her hair.

"You okay, Chuckles?" Varric said.

Even Fenris was at her bedside, looking like a block of ice. He had a bandage on the left side of his head.

"Did you miss me?" she said with a fake toothy smile.

"Your absence doesn't go unnoticed," Fenris said.

"You'll be glad you woke up," Varric said, pointing at a crapload of golden tchotchkes overflowing from their backpacks.

"Caaaaaaaching!" Carver sung proudly.

"Maker, I hope my miners are okay," Hawke said.

"Forget about them," Carver said.

"Like Bartrand surely will? I'll have to find them back in Kirkwall and pay them, so hands off the jewellery."

"Fine, fine…" Carver drawled.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Anders said. "Can you sit up?"

She struggled a little, but she felt… fine. Nothing to worry about. She dealt with the problem.

People went about their business until Anders finished his assessment.

Fenris came by. "How did you…?" he asked. Pertaining to the demon.

"That pull was its last act," Hawke lied. "It was getting desperate."

"What a blessing," he said.

"Help me out here, will you?" Varric shouted. He was struggling to contain all the loot in their backpacks. A crown of some sort fell on his foot. "Maker, I can't wait to trade you in for a full fucking body massage!"

"Gonna visit the Rose?" Hawke asked.

"Please. I'm not desperate. Plus, they don't even have dwarven girls."

"That is curious," she said, thinking. "If I complain to the Madam and they hire dwarves, would you go?"

Varric seemed to think about it. "I'm gonna stick with my answer."

"Is there any place in Kirkwall you don't go to, stirring up trouble?" Fenris asked a little judgementally.

Hawke seemed to think about it. "I don't go to the Merchants Guild."

"Smart," Varric said.

"I can't wait to get back," Carver said excitedly. Mojo agreed with him. "Mother will be so happy!"

"And Gamlen's gonna be so interested in looking after out loot," Hawke added.

"Right," Carver said. "Maybe we should keep it at Varric's place."

"Good idea."

"Great, I'm gonna have to lock my door now," Varric said grumpily.

"You don't—"

"Hey, my brother left me to die and I agreed to guard the treasure. What's with the attitude?"

He was going to play that card like there was no tomorrow.

"Fine, fine."

Deep Roads Camp, Day 14

Now reunited, the Hawke siblings were spending quality family time together arguing about money.

"What's happening?" Fenris asked Varric.

"The oldest drama in the world," Varric drawled.

"What in the Void is that supposed to mean, 'entitled to more'?" Carver said angrily, standing up.

"Which words don't you understand? 'Entitled' or 'more'?" Hawke said, looking up at him.

"You bloody hypocrite!" Carver said. "What happened to all that equality you whine about? Splitting things even and what not? Does that actually mean anything to you?"

"Of course, it does!" Hawke said, opening her posture. "But it's different in this case."

"How?" he growled.

She sighed, looked down. She tilted her head. "I want us all to make as much money, and I implement it as much as I can. I've equalised our wages in this case as much as I can. But in Kirkwall, it's pretty easy for me to justify that every one in my team deserves the same amount, because you're all very capable and cooperative people who show up, do the job, care for each other—for the most part—and don't cause trouble. Because of that, I don't feel like my leadership is really an effort. It brings people together, it tends to people, but I feel we're all doing very well. But in this case, I have invested my money in a thing with strange partners I need to constantly negotiate with, and I have a team of 20 to look after, and defend Bartrand's team of 30 when he gets abusive. Not to mention all the many, many unforeseen events. I am feeling like I'm doing more work, so, yeah, sorry, but I'm not splitting with you half and half."

"And you just decided this now, right when you saw the riches? You're just a few steps away from becoming Bartrand!"

"No, I decided this way back when we were in Kirkwall, and everyone agreed to it."

"I didn't agree to it."

"That's 'cause you didn't fucking bother reading the contract or coming to the meeting. You just went to the parties."

"Oh, come on. I wasn't going to come to your boring meetings. My eyes would fall into my vest!"

"I did," Varric said.

"Me too," Fenris said.

"I… didn't go to any because I didn't want to go anywhere, but I do sort of agree with Hawke," Anders said.

"You're all brainwashed!" Carver said meanly.

"No, Junior. I'm a partner in this venture and even I wasn't expecting an equal cut," Varric said, coming in-between them.

"How can you just lick the rug for your older brother like that, even after what he did to you?" Carver said. He looked at Hawke resentfully. "Brainwashed, I tell you."

Varric rubbed his forehead. "Because to be honest, Bartrand and Hawke had been doing most of the managing. I just brought them together and kept them from killing each other. She's nothing like my brother. He wanted it all for himself. He's probably out there right now delighting on how much money he's gonna save because we're out and he can just not compensate the others fairly because Hawke's not there to bicker with him!"

"So, you sought her out so she could do your job for you, is that it?" Carver asked.

Varric shook his head and sighed. "I guess," he said, his voice becoming low and soft. "I just wanted someone else to deal with the headache my brother had been turning into ever since he lost our parents' money in his last big idea."

"You're underselling yourself," Hawke said. "I just run my mouth left, right and centre, but it's your info I'm running on."

"Like I said," Varric drawled, straightening his wrist cuffs, "I'm a professional little brother and I'm good at it. I just need a head to hide behind and spare me the headache of making permanent impactful decisions."

"Why's it always the eldest that gets the power to decide? Isn't that monarchy? Isn't that what you're fundamentally against?" Carver asked Hawke.

"Not this again," she said, covering her eyes. "If you're trying to start a riot, do it when we get back to Kirkwall, okay? I'll even give you a permit."

"It's just because you're a mage," Carver said, crossing his arms. "It always comes back to that."

"Does it?" Hawke asked tiredly.

"It is the bloodline of familial monarchs, isn't it? Father was the head, a mage. Then he passed it on to you, a mage."

"He didn't pass anything to me. He died," she said, frowning.

"Oh, please. He'd given you his blessing for years. It was obvious to everyone but yourself that you were his favourite."

"No, Bethany was his favourite."

"No, that was both our parents' favourite. His personal favourite was you."

"He policed me my whole life. He-he kicked me out—"

"He took you back in."

"He disagreed with all my life decisions."

"And yet you still did what you bloody wanted," Carver said in a weirdly aggressive tone.

Both Carver and Hawke's face muscles were dancing a dance of trembling emotions.

"Alright, this is getting nowhere but to a deep and ugly wound—" she said. "I can't deal with this right now. I'm barely back on my feet."

"Fine," Carver said. "In Kirkwall, then."

"In Kirkwall," she agreed tiredly.

Varric was the best. Truly, he was underselling himself. He took Carver away and calmed him down and now they were playing cards like nothing happened.

Maybe he thought he would be easier to pacify. Maybe he even felt for him more and resolved to impart his wisdom on the boy.

Either way, Hawke was left unsupervised, and was becoming purple again.

Fenris felt like this was becoming routine. But he had taken the role and he was going to keep to it.

"Hawke," he said flatly, holding out his flask.

"Not now," she said, pacing.

His eyes ping-ponged on her erratic movements.

"Would you like me to get Anders instead?" he threatened. He had become doctor and templar in one giant annoying role. He was ready to hide all the lyrium potions in his colon to keep her away from it.

"Fine," she said curtly, snatching the flask away from him.

He perused the walls. "For what it's worth, I don't agree with you that you should split things even in our usual business."

"Well, what a surprise," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You're underselling yourself," he said flatly.

"I hardly think so."

"You do more than you realise."

"Like what?" she demanded, stopping her pacing.

"You organise people, you make decisions I certainly wouldn't want to take, and you deal with people. People's nonsense. No, insufficient. People's geizers of emotional nonsense."

"Well, should mothers get paid for their labour?" she asked him point-blank.

His eyebrows rose and his throat tensed up. "That is not my place to say."

She tried to contain her laughter.

He frowned. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just—" she said, wiping her forehead. "You are clearly so smart, like you are being now, and then sometimes you're just so, so dumb."

He kept his frown. "Idem."

"Anyway," she said, way too preoccupied with a hanging nail. "Honestly, I don't see much difference between the two."

"Motherhood and leadership?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," she said.

"I'll take your word for it," he said, shrugging. He was not going to debate that with her. "What are you going to do about Carver?"

"He can do whatever he wishes," she said, sighing. "Take his fucking money and leave me."

"But you don't want that," he said perceptively.

"Of course not," she said, letting her eyelids fall languidly. "But it's not about me. It's about his aspiration. His life. It doesn't matter what I want."

"It matters how you leave things," Fenris said, frowning.

She looked at him, and it made her think. "You're right."

"I am," he said. "There's too much resentment there left unchecked. It will just keep coming back, won't it?"

"Such is nature," she said, detached.

"Well," he said, gesturing towards her. "People's nonsense. You're good at that. Deal with it."

"It's not that simple," she said, chuckling and looking down.

"Why not?" he demanded. As if he knew what he was talking about. He didn't. He just wanted to understand something, perhaps. Family? Feelings? He didn't even know.

He watched her face, and it became visibly burdened by a life's worth of nonsense.

"Well, he's wrong to be resentful and/or jealous of my seniority or my magic. I didn't do any of that. It just happened to me," she said, crossing her arms. "But… he's right to be resentful and/or jealous of my betraying him… twice."

Fenris frowned. "What did you do?"

Hawke sighed, looking quite guilty. "When we were teenagers, I… kind of…" she said, tapping her fingers on her opposite elbow, "made his girlfriend cheat on him with me."

"Oh," he said in a deep voice.

"Then there was this other girl he broke up with and then I… swooped in."

He looked amused. "Naughty girl."

"You can't pull that off," she said, chuckling.

"Pull what off?" he said, confused.

"The…" she said, smacking her lips. It was definitely the demon, she thought. "Nevermind," she said, scratching her head. "Point is, he's right to hate me. Long ago I was defensive about it. Told myself it's my right, because you can't be picky when you're queer and have no idea if anyone else may be. It was my right to figure myself out. Something that he couldn't understand because he just had the privilege to not question himself. But… no. I was a dick. And I never truly apologised."

"Am I to understand that it was later you developed this…" he said, trying (and failing) to be careful with his words, "clusterfuck of a moral compass?"

"Excuse me?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"In a good way… mostly," he said, clearing his throat. "You have a lot of… values."

She scoffed in amusement. "Yeah, I guess that came later," she said, sitting down on a rock. "Teenagers are the worst."

He wouldn't know. He hated how much he was losing out on in these conversations about time, growth, family, relationships. It was a foreign and ever more attractive flame, and he got burned every time because he couldn't be himself. But he had to pretend. He had to. He had a whole list of quirks, and amnesia was too big to just casually squeeze in, let alone pass off as a quirk.

For the time, he resolved to just observe, maybe even second-hand experience.

"But why are you resentful towards him?" Fenris asked, sitting down next to her. "And/or jealous?"

She smirked and shook her head. "Yeah, it's good you added 'jealous'. I'm super jealous he's not a mage. Boy, would I love to be him. And he doesn't fucking get it. Spends his time jealous of me. And for what? A mark on my back?"

"And resentful…?" he said, crossing his legs too.

She let her head fall backwards in a small display of exasperation. "Where shall I start?" She counted on her fingers. "He used to piss in my boots when we were kids. He cut my pigtails once when I was sleeping. He sold my sword to get money for his dates. He outed me to my dad, which caused a complete shitshow. And he took his best friend's side over mine when he was an utter fucking dick to me." She sounded like she was on the verge of losing it.

"That… last one sounds much less catastrophic than the penultimate," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Why did you save it for last?"

She hesitated, looked very uncomfortable. "There was this guy," she said, covering her forehead.

And there it was again. It had been quite a few times now that he just caught her spacing out, staring at nothing, as if curtains were drawn down her eyes. Eyes imprisoned in a half-light, watching and rewatching dreams of a terrible pain. They looked sad and empty and broken, and it made her look older than she was.

Was that why she wore pigtails or braids? Did she enjoy being a walking paradox? Or did she want to steal the attention away somehow; melt the deathly cold of her aura in those moments? Maybe she wasn't aware she had that face on. Wasn't aware she was correcting for it. Like when the Neromenians built churches around places where the Veil was thin, to contain it somehow. They didn't know that's what they were doing. They just built around a spooky place to quiet children's nightmares, as well as their own.

But he realised he was just losing himself in a doom spiral of conspiracies when this poor girl was bearing her heart out to him. He felt foolish, and bad, and he looked her in the eye.

"Did he hurt you?" he said, his tone softening.

"No-h," she said, a soft chuckle. It clashed with her empty eyes in his. "He destroyed me."

Fenris didn't say anything. Her pronunciation was a little excruciating. And the eyes, terrifying.

"… And that's the last page in the Saga of the Sucky Mage. To not be continued," she said, softening up. She looked like she wanted to leave. She didn't plan to open up that much. It made her more upset. Varric was right. Talking to people was not his specialty.

"I understand," he said calmly.

"Cool," she said, her fist hitting her other fist.

He didn't want to completely fail. Maybe a change of subject would help?

"You know, you're not like other girls," he said.

Hawke's eyebrows rose tiredly. "Where are you going with this?" She'd heard that line a thousand times.

Fenris smirked briefly, and corrected himself. "No. You're not like other people. That's an entirely more accurate statement."

"Because I'm a—?"

"No," he said quickly. He went deep in thought. "I don't know… You're something."

"You don't have the words for it?" she asked, smirking.

"Not yet," he said.

"Well, you're not like other people either," she said, bumping her elbow into his.

He flinched and grimaced.

"Shit, sorry. I'm a fucking idiot."

"It's… fine," he said coldly, rubbing his elbow. "And me not being like other people is the understatement of the year."

"Well, I have some words for it, but…"

"They're too vulgar?"

"No, too… surface-y," she said, intertwining her hands and placing her elbows against her knees. She looked up, then back at him. "But I'd like to have better words."

"Really?" he said, looking at her through half-lidded eyes.

"Yeah," she said, rubbing her hands. She looked nervous, or maybe constipated. "Say, when this is over, maybe we could…" Now Fenris was nervous, and/or about to be constipated. "… spare everyone the headache and have our little debates by ourselves."

"Not… your worst idea," he said shyly, thinking. He cleared his throat, and looked up again. "Sure. Why not?"

"That's the spirit," she mumbled to herself. "Well… good talk," she said, and left.

He sat there, arms crossed, and still couldn't tell if it was a flirt or some kind of strategy to please Varric and her little mage boyfriend.

But at least he seemed to have done something right. Hawke went to talk to Carver. They hugged a long hug.

Deep Roads, Day 16

"Fenkis the Uppity McCockle-doodle-do," Hawke said.

"Mouthy O'Downhere," Fenris said.

"Puss-in-boots McFrostitute," Varric said.

"Fabio the Manbeardog Forofor…son," Anders said.

"Bossy van Butch," Carver said.

So hurtful. But their minds were nearing attrition trying to find their way back. If everyone could insult everyone, they could pass the time and still maintain an aura of civility.

"Ok, next round," Hawke said, amused. "Fenris, you start now. And a polite reminder there are many words in the common tongue other than clown."

"But it works so well," he said, shaking his head in amusement.

"I change my answer. First thing in Kirkwall I'm buying is you a dictionary."

"Because you've worn yours out after I won that bet with the dwarf?"

"Har har."

"Alright. Let's see…" he said, thinking. "Priscilla Tuffpants McTrollmage."

"Ser Hotpockets van Kittenmittens," Hawke said.

"Baldchin Capitalist McCantReach," Anders said.

"Manny Laika O'Hitmyself," Varric said.

"Brother Fistybald Freakerson," Carver said.

"I'm not your brother," Fenris said, frowning.

"No, you're a monk," Carver said.

People laughed.

He didn't get it.

"Angush Poophead McTindigger," Anders said to Varric.

"Poophead?" Varric said, hurt.

"'Cause you… bullshit a lot?" Anders offered.

"Ah, that didn't read," he said. "Anyway, where was I?"

"You had to give Fenris a name," Hawke said.

"Is this game coming to an end, please?" Fenris said tiredly.

"But why?" Varric said. "We get to know each other, we discharge tension, and we hurt some minor feelings."

"I suppose my bonding is at capacity for now," Fenris said.

"Hmph," Varric said. "Serah Grumpybutt McBarkalot."

Fenris sighed heavily. "Winifred…" he said, shaking his head. "The Manwitch Whinehard."

"Come, on, you give me a name now. You haven't done it before," Hawke said to Anders suspiciously.

"Ah, and here I thought I'd go unnoticed," Anders said with a little smile.

"He lacks the courage to offend you," Fenris said.

"As if your repetitive clown insults are truly offensive."

"By all means, you offend her more effectively," Fenris said, gesturing towards her.

"Don't stab my arse, okay?" Anders said to Hawke.

"I'll stab you if you beat around the bush much longer."

"Tranny van Commie," Anders said.

Hawke scowled in outrage. "That's so insensitive! That's not even me you're offending, it's trans people! What the hell did they ever do to you?"

"Word police is in the house!" Varric said a little drunkenly.

"See?" Anders said to Fenris.

She went on angrily.

"Fascinating," Fenris said, holding his chin.

"You just gotta offend some other group, and she'll lose her shit."

"But is it worth it to be bigots just to piss her off?"

"Sometimes," Anders said, shrugging innocently.

Fenris smirked to himself. "I think if we had a trans person in our team they wouldn't be happy with being used as comic relief to offend your boss."

"Good point," Anders said, looking at him. "Seems you're packing a brain in there after all."

"That it is a surprise to you speaks more on your prejudices than mine," Fenris said.

"Oh, I listen to you. They're well-founded."

They looked away from each other.

"Cherry picker," Fenris said.

"Arselicker," Anders said.

Deep Roads, Day 17

"Think we can… take a break?" Carver said in a hoarse voice, losing his balance.

"We're almost to the surface. Think you can hold it in?" Hawke said.

But then she heard him fall behind her.

"Carver!" she screamed in terror, trying to hold him up.

"Oh, Maker," Anders said, putting two and two together. "The darkspawn I kept sensing for the last hour don't exist. It's you."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Hawke shouted. "How could you not notice?"

"He looked fine at the end of the fight!" Anders said defensively. But then he went to his side and looked inside his sling. "Oh, no."

"Oh, yeah," Carver said huskily. "I'll be just like that templar, Wesley. I'll be just as dead. Just as gone."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," Hawke said desperately. "You can't die on me. You can't leave me with all this demon tchotchke crapfest. You've got a bachelor pad to decorate!"

"There might be something we can do. I stole the maps from some Grey Wardens who were going to venture in this area. If they are here, they can help him," Anders said.

"Fine. Use your hive mind signal thingy and find them!" Hawke commanded.

"If you don't take him, I'm going to kill you," Hawke threatened Stroud, holding up Carver.

"Threatening me will not get you far," Stroud said stoically.

"Oh, I'm sorry. My manners," she said sarcastically. "Hello. Good morning. Good evening. What were the chances we ran into each other? Now take him."

"Hawke, no offense, but let me do the talking," Varric said, stepping in.

"I know it may come as a shock to you, but we do not recruit Grey Wardens out of pity," Stroud said, crossing his arms.

Varric cleared his throat. "Hi. How do you do?" He pointed at Carver and Hawke. "That boy right there and his sister are the single most skilled warriors I've ever met. We're finishing an expedition here, and we're at day seventeen thanks to them."

"Wow," Stroud's Grey Warden buddy said.

Stroud raised his palm to shut him up.

"They also found an ancient thaig that wasn't even in the Deep Roads anymore. It was deeper than that. There was no more dwarven architecture. It had a strange-looking red lyrium in it and an idol my cunt brother stole."

"Interesting," Stroud said, holding his chin.

"Not only that, but the thaig was completely untainted by darkspawn! They were being repelled somehow."

The Grey Wardens frowned and looked at each other.

"Now I could happily draw you a map to the area if you don't let my friend die," Varric said, raising his eyebrows.

Sunset, Vinmark Mountains

It started raining. She didn't even pull her hood up.

Bethany was her best friend, but Carver was her rock. Stupid, stubborn, show-off Carver, but he was still her rock. Without him, the throne of her reason and sanity was vanquished.

She felt suffocated and bathed in filth. Her body was trembling, exhausted and heartbroken.

They decided to rent a caravan back to Kirkwall. She was pacing back and forth as they loaded the loot.

Her life was full of regrets, hiding only behind the security of time.

Fenris had come to her again, as always, to remind her to drink water.

She turned sharply to him; wanted to strike him, push him away. What he saw stopped him from holding out his flask. She wasn't even looking at him, not really. Her expression was so distant, so soul-weary. Her face was tortured and devoid of colour. What a palpable difference from her usual rich expressions. He didn't know what to say.

He felt like a fool, but couldn't really do anything but stare at her crumbling face.

For some insane, mindless reason, he wanted to scream. Hawke's wellbeing had always been crucial to his survival, but there used to be no other reason. Yet now he found himself emotional and scared for her. He didn't need to be near her—better that he was not near her—but he had to know that she was somewhere, and continuing, and they might meet again. That feeling grew, and now he felt at a loss. If he felt bitterness now, then Hawke felt despair.

"I-I should thank you," she mumbled, changing her face all of a sudden. "You took care of him. You took quite a lot of hits for him. With the demon and the darkspawn—" She looked up at him, empty. "Thank you."

He died inside hearing those words. He didn't really do much. She did everything. Thanking him? He didn't expect that. It was not impossible to like her. On the other hand, it was merely the beginning. And her thanks—it wasn't the whole truth.

"If I hadn't gone to the Alienage—"

"Stop, Hawke," Fenris whispered bitterly. "You do not owe me anything. I need you more than you will ever need me. Whatever little thing I may have done, it barely pays off the debt I owe you," he said, the rain pouring on him.

She looked angry suddenly. "That's the truth, then?" she said. "This is just a matter of practicality by inequality?"

"No, I—" he said, hesitated. He had worded this very poorly.

"Is this the truth, then?" she demanded. "That I owed you nothing, not my help, least of all the knowledge of my existence, and that you are impertinent now to suggest that this is all just about paying off some debt?"

"No, Hawke. It may have started that way, but it's no longer the case," Fenris said.

"Well, good," she said, crossing her arms. "Glad to see you're not just playing free."

He couldn't help but smile a little. He should have felt offended, but he knew what she meant. And she was right. And he liked the manner, the strong way in which she spoke.

"I haven't survived the world as well as I should have," Fenris admitted.

"Nor I," Hawke said bitterly, looking down.

He hesitated a little, but he touched her shoulder. "Si trans infernum ambulas, age quod agis."

"Please don't make me punch you," she said. She must have thought he was trashing trans people.

He smirked and shook his head. "If you're going through the Void, keep going."

"Really?" she said, thinking.

He held out his hand. "It's better if you don't walk it alone."

Her face revealed a tracery of subtle extreme vulnerability.

"I can walk unaided, thank you," she said, crossing her arms.

"What happened to 'we have to look out for each other'?"

She inhaled deeply. "I don't know. I'm not myself. I don't know my present view of things. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe I am a hypocrite."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" he said with a little smile.

She took his hand and he helped her up the caravan.