I'm sorry for disappearing and not updating. I had some business to take care of. Hopefully nothing like that will come again, because I'm crazy impatient to finish with this part of the story and get on to the other main events. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
You love me.
To Secret Companion: No I haven't written a fic for DA:O, although I have the story in my head :D And yes, the Warden married the hell out of Zevran.
The closer you think you are, the less you actually see. This roamed through his mind as Fenris dissipated his hand and channelled the familiar searing wave of energy through the glass plate. He did not think of it that way, but by ripping through the particles of the Fade only to solidify his hand back into the physical world, he was doing the one thing mages couldn't do without piles of lyrium, complicated rituals and years of discipline. More so, mages could not really be in two places at the same time without actually being there and wholly, whereas he was like a thief who didn't need to roam whole in another realm to draw out the strength he needed. In fact, he didn't think he was drawing out anything. His ability was for all intended purposes, purely geographical. The magically sealed glass plate would sense his lyrium and the fact that he didn't have magical powers, but at the same time, it was as if his hand wasn't really there at all. He was, but he wasn't. That part struck him to wonder if Hawke felt that way about being a mage, only perhaps the opposite worked in this situation: she wasn't, but she ultimately was.
This thought in his mind lingered, as the blue waves of energy reflected from the glass plate at the same time with the waves glowing an incandescent red from the glass plate that Hawke was touching. It felt like a soft, but massive force field of magic had unravelled as a sudden wind started swiftly blowing through their hair and clothes and a thick clacking sound gave off the metal rings that were unlocking and distancing themselves from one another. They looked at each other in silence as the mechanisms one by one appeared as though a perfect force of mayhem dictated their upheaval. The vault shuddered and creaked, letting out monstrous metallic groans as the mechanisms slid in different directions. The inversed V contraption above them let out its own disturbing symphony which made them back away in instinct. A large clank followed the giant metal bars forming a perfect horizontal line that quickly severed itself in half and the bars resided on the edges. A necessary disruption in the face of the apparently greater good, and the vault opened as quickly as it had been deceived.
"Hooolly shit," Varric's voice echoed from behind them. "How did you…?"
"Oh, your little glowing trick seems to be really useful, my friend," Zevran uttered in joy as he approached Fenris. "One could only guess what sort of wonders it can do in more… ah… horizontal situations."
"Guessing is always free," Fenris said nonchalantly, containing his relief that his ability distracted them from thinking Hawke had anything magical to do with opening the door.
"Can I pay to see, then?" Zevran asked jokingly.
"No," Fenris said sharply.
"Ah, fine, I had to try, do not get mad … again. Alas," Zevran said while grinning. Then his head turned forwards to see what the vault contained and his shimmering amber eyes widened. "Holy crap."
"Is this the… prison you were looking for?" Varric asked awkwardly as they came into the grand room.
It was an enormous dark room which contained about eight giant black pillars on the edges and one even bigger one in the center. Each pillar was enveloped by some curiously looking metal pattern spiralling along their height. It depicted little X-s in the form of sharp daggers and each one bore the symbol of the Crows.
"Stop," Hawke shouted the group. "Don't take another step. Pressure plates," she said and pointed at the squares on the floor where all the pillars were.
"Santo cazzo Madre di Andraste." Zevran's shoulders sank and his joyful cocksure face disrupted its pretty child-like features in a deeply frustrated scowl once he noticed the nightmare landscape. "More puzzles?! Che cazzo!" He threw his arms in the air in desperation and paced backwards and forwards. "I feel like I'm in the Gauntlet again, bruti figli di puttana bastardi, fatti una pugnetta, mangia merde e morte!" (*Holy fucking mother of Andraste, *What the fuck! *Ugly bastard sons of bitches, have a wank, eat shit and die.)
Varric chuckled softly and elbowed Fenris. "I think I like Tevinter curses better. Anything in Antivan sounds like a love declaration."
"Yes, I declare with utmost sincerity my love for this incredibly frustrating piece of shit," Zevran shouted angrily.
"Easy there, Zevran. I thought you were a professional at this," Hawke said in amusement.
"I'm a professional at killing and bedding, not at solving puzzles," Zevran muttered grumpily.
"And what did you do before when this sort of thing happened?" Varric asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Tsk. I ask my wife, what do you think?" Zevran uttered roughly.
"So, not much difference between our little groups," Varric said in amusement and elbowed Hawke. "What do you say, boss?"
Hawke raised an eyebrow and appeared to be silently swearing in her language as well for calling her boss, but then she sighed and started walking nonchalantly around the pillars. "Maybe this isn't the right way to look at it."
"Oh, good, let's look at it with our heads on the floor and our legs up in the air," Zevran said grumpily and crossed his arms.
"Why are you so pissy all of a sudden?" Hawke asked assertively. "Seems to me you've been through this sort of business all your life, yet now you're acting like it's all virgin territory."
Zevran rolled his eyes and appeared that this time, he was not going to crack up any joke about the different connotations Hawke's words could have. "It is virgin territory, I have never been here before and it is inconceivable that the Crows would have such a room. Imagine you've known a city or your own house your whole life only to find out it is harbouring a whole new world in its secret nests!"
"I get it," Hawke said warmly. "Still, that's why you bring along someone like me. So take a chill pill and let me work this thing."
Zevran finally relaxed and chuckled. "That's exactly what the Warden would say."
"The Warden? So formal. Or did you forget her name?" Hawke asked in amusement.
"It is a habit to address her in formal terms when confronted with strangers," Zevran said calmly. "You know how it is."
"I do?" Hawke asked bewilderedly. "No, I don't think I do."
Zevran sighed. "You save the world, everybody loves you. Then you go back to being the primary babysitter in a world without chaos, people relax, they get tangled in first world problems and who will they have to blame? The Maker? No, no."
"Still not seeing how I can relate," Hawke said with a confused frown.
"You are a certified good-doer and a leader, no? Who do people go to bark at when things don't go their way and when they're not jumping and screaming 'Hawke to the rescue!'?"
"Oh, that." She coughed defensively. "I hardly notice anymore."
Fenris listened carefully as he pretended to examine the walls from a distance. As he did that, he heard Zevran chuckle softly. "Well, good. One could go mad in these situations. Me? I take delight in remaining in the shadows. It gives me more strength and time to do my part in taking care of her."
"Yeah, I get your drift, I think," Hawke said and rolled her eyes.
"No, not like that," Zevran said calmly. "Although that is also true. But my statement pertains to what I can do to protect and help her while she protects and helps everyone else. It is not a job for the faint-hearted, I will tell you th-"
"I don't need to be taken care of," Hawke quickly asserted firmly.
Zevran chuckled again softly, "You say that now, but when the time comes to count your blessings, do not forget those who silently watched over your back when you were not looking."
"Enough," Hawke pressed sharply.
"So… puzzle?" Varric intervened lightly.
"Right, puzzle," Hawke said while clearing her throat, for Zevran was starting to dwell on very dangerous territory. She turned back and looked at the walls. "These metal wheels on the wall look positively useless."
"The obvious pillar puzzle in the center is perhaps too obvious?" Fenris said calmly as he strolled along the opposing side of the room.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Hawke shouted back at Fenris as she looked at the silver wheels with very sharp, dagger-looking spokes arching out of the felloes. Perhaps a bit of a beautifully grotesque scenery with a lethal complicated puzzle in the hidden passages of some secret assassin prison was a bit too much.
Fenris grinned shortly. "If one could give credit to my 'countrymen' for something, it's making endless and complicated traps. This one seems child's play in comparison."
"I will let that one slide, Fenris, because it is the creation of only a part of my countrymen that I viciously hate," Zevran said grumpily with crossed arms. "But mind what you say about my dear Antiva."
"If one loves his country, that does not mean one must also love its people," Fenris said calmly. Armand approached him from behind and he turned back to face him. "Yes?"
"You have a theory, little bitch?" Armand asked sharply.
"I thought we were past the name calling," Fenris replied with a scowl.
"Hm. Can you account for being the opposite?" Armand asked calmly.
Fenris remained frowning with his arms crossed, but he decided quickly that they had enough time to argue over what was called for and what was not. He rolled his eyes and turned his back to Armand, examining the wheels of different sizes hanging on the wall. A large clanking sound echoed through the room and they instinctively turned back to see that Hawke had pressed something that made the wheels on both walls roll and slide to make a different shape, followed by a dozen stilettos shooting down from the ceiling and almost killing Varric and Zevran if they hadn't ducked down and rolled away from the sudden sharp rain of mayhem.
"I bet you wish you hadn't done that," Fenris shouted from the other side with a grin.
"Oh, up yours, Mister This Puzzle is Child's Play," Hawke shouted back angrily. "At least we now know you get a knife in your skull if you don't press the right lever."
"Yeah, let's not do that again though, hm?" Varric said grumpily while fixing up his clothes.
Hawke sighed and looked in different directions. Everything seemed a whole lotta distractions for nothing and she wondered if in reality one could simply step on some plate by accident that would make whatever hidden door there was open up and they would soon be on their way. The grand room crept her out enough as it was, seeming more that they were in a gothic Tevinter ... underground cathedral, than an old Antivan catacomb, statues of one-eyed ravens and gargoyles staring bestially at them from above on the high dark walls.
The closer you think you are, the less you actually see. Distraction on top of distraction, they would not get anywhere. As her brain kept boiling to find a solution, she spotted a few roses or some other resembling red flower tangled above in the central pillar. The plates around the flowers were roughly painted red too, as if these Crows really valued the art of showing off with macabre metal impersonations of blood being spilled on a silver plate to say "We stain the honour of the many with no mercy whatsoever."
Then it hit her that this, all of these little mechanisms and artsy objects in the room could have been magical just as the vault doors were. One just needed to find the weak link or the hidden lever.
"Hawke," Fenris shouted from the other side and pointed at the back of the central pillar. "Come see this."
She rushed by his side and look up to see a small wheel hidden at the back of the central pillar, deeply camouflaged in the plate patterns it was encaged in. "Shit, how did my eye miss that?"
"For one, your bangs are in the way," Fenris said grumpily. "For two…" he pretended to think arrogantly while caressing his chin, "Hm, what was two?"
"The number of testicles you will lose soon," Hawke said angrily.
"Oh, I'm positively scared," Fenris retorted sarcastically.
"Do you need a quick demonstration to catch the genuine feeling?" Hawke asked while taking a step closer, but stopped as Zevran came behind.
"Do you two need some time alone?" he asked innocently. "This sexual frustration between you two is starting to become bothersome."
"There is no frustration," Fenris replied sharply, then his face drew a sudden grin. "Well, not from my part at least."
"Fenris…" Hawke said innocently.
His eyebrows lifted in an unimpressed look. "Yes?"
"Your pants are open again," Hawke said calmly with a smile. Fenris's cheeks boiled red and he cleared his throat awkwardly as she walked away and Zevran was snorting like a child trying not burst into laughter.
"How about that wheel?" Armand asked finally while approaching the pillars.
"We blow it up?" Zevran asked innocently. "What, why are you looking at me like that?"
"Let's not blow anything else up unless it's really necessary," Varric said grumpily.
"Oh fine, but I must tell you, my dwarven friend, you are no fun," Zevran said charmingly. "What do you propose?"
"…Throw something you don't need on a pressure plate so we know what's coming for us?" Hawke intervened.
"A bomb?" Zevran asked childishly.
"Can we throw Broody?" Varric asked in amusement.
"You first," Fenris said grumpily.
"Look out!" Hawke shouted as she threw a heavy piece of stone wall between the pillars. As they backed away in terror, the piece of stone banged and fell back in their direction with a burst of storm dust that made all of them cough heavily. "Bloody asschabs piece of shiet puzzle. Why do the Crows need magical barriers?"
"Why would they place a magical barrier if there are pressure plates on the ground already?" Varric asked bewilderedly.
"It's the kind that denies lifeless things to enter. Someone has to actually step on them. Or…" Hawke paused and frowned. "I have to take a leak by the corner. Resume your theories."
"How did they even get such magic?" Fenris asked angrily. "What does a guild of assassins benefit from this?"
"Maximum security, any curious lemming fried to death, annoying the bazingas out of me? Take your pick," Zevran said grumpily and crossed his arms.
"Well I'm not seeing any real pattern here, so, might as well wait for Hawke," Varric said grumpily.
"The woman is the bravest one in the group I take it? I've been there before," Zevran said in amusement.
"It's not that she's the bravest, but…" Varric started but got interrupted.
"She's the craziest," Fenris finished flatly.
"And yet she has survived all this time," Zevran said joyfully. "Clearly, she is doing something right."
"This is ridiculous," Armand said in a low angry voice and started charging towards the barrier. "I'm going i-"
A terrible crowing sound echoed in the room as a swiftly flying blackbird came out of nowhere and charged beside the central pillar holding the missing piece. The very sharp sounds that the bird was making upheaved their awareness and balance. As the men got unsettled and tried to follow the bird with their eyes, the rapid black point in the air appeared to have caught the wheel in its talons and dropped it forcefully in-between the group.
"What the-" Hawke's startled voice echoed from the dark corner. "Where did that come from?" she asked in amazement as she came out and approached the group while fixing her pants.
"Santo cazzo di Madre, we surrounded by crazy," Zevran shouted as he picked up the wheel and gave it to Hawke. "Here, do what you will with it. After this is done, I'll be thinking about retiring."
"Talk is cheap," Armand said sharply. "You always say that and then you go do it again."
"What can I say? I'm an eternal optimist," Zevran said joyfully. "That and I have recently developed a large amount of incurable ambition."
As Hawke placed the wheel in the empty slot, the mechanisms started to shake and roll, severing the walls in halves, the plates moving away in opposite directions to reveal a curious statue with a one-eyed crow on each side. The clearly now magically sustained red flow of the roses formed a reflective connection with each eye of the crow statues and the light reflected again into each of the pillars. It was a beautiful eerie sight that whispered death and havoc, as well as tantalizing secrets and undoubtedly, a grand aura of mystique.
The plates encaging every pillar unlocked and moved in a spiral as each of them opened, revealing masses of little bottles containing a strange crimson liquid.
"Blood?" Fenris asked in confusion.
"Phylacteries," Hawke explained flatly. "Well, now you know how your assassins always seem to find you wherever you go. Hm. I really didn't expect the Crows to be so resourceful."
"Porca Madonna," Zevran cursed childishly. "This is the last time they fuck with me."
"I thought phylacteries are only created for mages in order for Templars to track them down if they escape," Fenris intervened coldly.
"They are," Hawke said calmly. "But it works just as well for blood that has no magic in it. The only thing you need is a mage to seal the blood and a Templar to use his fake lyrium-infused magic to connect with the vial and voila – it tracks the owner down before you say apostate."
"How?" Fenris asked sharply with a frown.
"Magic?" Hawke said in amusement, then her face grew dark, a speck of protest glowing bitterly in her eyes. "Well, blood magic. A bit of hypocrisy for the greater good, the Chantry says."
"The ones that condemn and punish the 'sinners' do so while doing the exact same thing?" Fenris asked in a bit of controlled outrage, as if the world finally made sense now. He shook his head with an amused angry smile. "Will wonders never cease."
"I told you they're a bunch of sodding hypocrites," Hawke said grumpily. "But anyway, to return to the matter at hand, yes. Now I'm getting the picture as to why the Crows are so good in their ways. They really don't let any opportunity to strengthen their control pass lightly."
"Well isn't it the same thing?" Zevran asked calmly. "Slavery."
"Privation of liberty," Fenris corrected. "It is not the same thing."
"You've got nothing left to choose but if you live and die before your master makes the decision for you, and nothing left to lose but your mind," Zevran said calmly. "Do not doubt it. It is the same thing."
"I don't follow. Are you comparing the Crows or the Circle to slavery?" Fenris asked with a controlled enough tone.
"Both, my friend," Zevran replied half-bitterly. "You and I and even the mages, we were baptised in the spilled blood of our own kin and it has been trained to run hot, so hot it is cold as ice. You understand?"
"Oh shit, the word that must not be used in front of H-… Broody has been spoken," Varric intervened grumpily.
"I understand," Zevran said quickly and turned his head to Fenris. "You are bothered by my comparison. It is not without cause that you should be so, but I must press on the simple fact that men hold darker taints than any beast. All of them. We should all be immured into a wall for safekeeping, never to get out and harm another."
"By that I imagine you are subtly pertaining to the opposite. That we should all be free so the scales are balanced and let justice be blind as nature is," Fenris said half-sneeringly. "You have not been in the Imperium. If all of Thedas begins letting mages free, we will all end up slaves to them. Trust me."
"Oh, of that I have no doubt," Zevran said calmly, but Fenris's approving look died when he finished his sentence, "that mages will rebel someday and there will be war and death until justice is made. It is a principle of nature to balance itself out through crisis and havoc. It is an accident waiting to happen. It's not about if it would happen, it's about when it would happen."
"And you approve of this?" Fenris asked with a heightened tone, his hands clenching into fists.
"It does not matter. It does not make one speck of a difference whether I cheer for the poor mages or I condemn them as if they were beasts. We are all beasts," Zevran said bitterly and nodded assertively towards Fenris. "Or do you disagree?"
His expression grew darker as Fenris looked at Hawke with the back of his eye and noticed she wasn't intervening with her perfectly reasonable and assertive arguments. "You have a point. But it's not my place to say more, truth be told. All I am saying is that neither the Imperium nor the Chantry give a good answer. And regardless of these realities, we were discussing how imbalanced your comparison of mages and slaves is."
"Look at this," Zevran said quickly and pointed at the thousands of blood vials. "Without this little symbol of containment, one is an illegal alien, an enemy combatant of the Chantry and of the whole world. Does this seem natural to you?"
Fenris pressed his lips hesitantly and didn't answer, to which Zevran smiled lightly. "Well, enough chit-chat I guess. The Crows, the Chantry, the tyrannical kings of Thedas, they've got their rules of conduct, and we have ours. And they are quite simple, if you ask me – be good or be dead."
"I couldn't say it any better," Hawke finally joined.
Zevran chuckled softly, his eyelids half-closing. "I've learned my lessons the hard way, mind you. I think this applies to everyone in this very room – every scar we have earned we had to bleed. Any time is long time, but one should have the right to be in charge of their own time, no?" He approached the vials of blood encaged in the pillars and sighed. "This is the mark of the beast. It could be some drops of blood, or some curious glowing tattoos," he said while looking at Fenris, then turned his head to the others, "or it can simply be a blade in a sheath. I really do not have the time or lack of heart to discriminate."
"Well, that was dramatic," Varric said finally. "This story is gonna score me millions."
"You honest thief, you," Hawke said while shaking her head mockingly.
Zevran laughed. "It is the only way." Then his face changed, growing colder by the second as if it just hit now that this was a wild goose chase and that there was a vial with his own blood, a needle in the haystack for all they saw. His shoulders sank and he finally cursed, "Oh santo cazzo, this is like dicks in vinegar."
"Like what in what?" Hawke asked in amusement.
"Now that's an image," Varric said while chuckling.
Zevran turned to them with a controlled scowl, "Tsk. And what are we supposed to do now? Break every vial hoping nobody took mine and Amadeo's to spice up their soup for their own morbid amusement?"
A deep, macabre-sounding voice echoed from a dark corner, "That will not be necessary."
Zevran's legs began to tremble and he backed away slowly, his eyes widened and his throat closing in from tension as a dark-coated man with long silver hair and blue eyes cold and sharp as a blizzard in the harsh winter stepped in from the darkness. He was wearing a vial of blood as a necklace with his arms crossed and locking his self-assured, cruel eyes onto Zevran. Behind him came a dozen light-armoured assassins, each one with a sharper and more fearsome gaze than the other with their slender and needle-pointed black stilettos shining in the red glow of the reflective magical light of the puzzle.
"Pasquale," Zevran said coldly.
The man nodded with an ice-cold grin, "Ah, Zevran. Finally decided to show your face again after so many years." He stretched his arms warmly as a make believe, his large blue eyes were fall of the inevitable zeal and thirst. And his rich silver hair shimmered in the dim light. He was a comely creature, even coated with dust as he was. Fenris could smell the catacombs on his garments. He could smell death on him as through he had lain down with putrid remains. But he was handsome, fine of build and proportion as the rare Tevinter warriors looked like; indeed, not unlike them at all. He could hear the botched Tevinter sounds in his Antivan accent quite perfectly. "Tell me, boy, has life been good to you all this time? Have you been blessed by luck as you usually were in the good old days?"
"But of course. I would not be here otherwise," Zevran said sharply, his controlled but raging hatred for this particular man resounding from his careful, flat tone.
"I hear you helped defeat the Blight in the south. Quite heroic of you, I must say, although I'm sure," he said and grinned deviously, "it was not quite so voluntary, no?"
"I've outgrown my ways of taking orders, Pasquale," Zevran said assertively. "It was my honest pleasure to give my blessing luck to a cause that deserved it."
"Yes, I'm certain you were quite thrilled and honoured to simply swoop in and help the one I ordered you to kill," Pasquale said mockingly and shook his head with a pretend sigh. "Ah, well, you were always the one to foolishly mix business with pleasure where the opportunity presented itself, weren't you? Yes, that's certainly how I remember it." He laughed heavily and kept his amused grin with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. "Tell me then, did your new mistress treat you better than me?"
At the sound of those last words, Zevran pressed his lips and tried to control the fierce instinct to draw his blades out and charge into him. The man knew exactly where to plunge sharply and roll the blade inside the wound to make him lose his temper. He didn't give him an opportunity to say more, as he turned his head to the other elf and said with a disquietingly warm tone, "Amadeo. I am impressed," he said while nodding his head towards him. "Zevran, we all know, he's a simple lemming and a flaming scoundrel that deserves every bit of his fate, but you – I truly did not expect you to turn."
Unlike Zevran, Armand kept himself extremely cool and sharp with his answers. "I am full of surprises."
"Hm." Pasquale chuckled warmly and turned his head behind. "You hear that, Avicus? Your little Amadeo has managed to surprise us more effectively that you have ever dreamed."
"Indeed he did," a dark-hooded man said in a deep voice from behind, coming from in-between the armoured assassins. He was a tall, dark-haired man with eyes as blue and cold as the guild master's. Armand's blood froze and he swallowed heavily, the reason behind it which Fenris quickly understood was that this man had been his master and by the sound of the name, he was Tevinter and a magister. Suddenly the sharp, bone-hard elf he once knew turned pale and deeply paralyzed, all while still keeping a cool posture. This controlled behaviour effectively slipped everyone's eyes who had not been slaves. He knew better. "It's been a long time, Amadeo."
"Not long enough, I'm afraid," Armand said with dark dead-set eyes and sharply controlled rage.
"It is a joy to see you in good health," Avicus said in an eerie warm tone. "Although I would never have expected it to be otherwise. Not with you."
Amadeo's eyes seemed to say as far as Fenris understood that he wished this man would shut his mouth and that everyone would draw their blades so he could charge into him and slit his throat on the spot. "Cast your eyes elsewhere, mage," Fenris quickly said. Armand spat on the ground in silence at the same time. It was enough said.
The mage caressed his chin while examining Fenris. "I have more enemies that I thought, so it seems. And who might you be?" he asked warmly while looking at Hawke, because she was the only human in their team and the least apparent one to have any business for or against the Crows. She quickly caught her fellow elves' faintly shaking heads that silently told her not to reveal anything about herself, or anyone for that matter.
"Me? I'm nobody, really," Hawke said with a cocky grin.
The long silver-haired man arched his eyebrow curiously and narrowed his eyes. "Well, Nobody, I am Pasquale and this is Avicus. A pleasure to meet you and your companions."
"Such manners, Pasquale, truly in the last place a girl would ever look," Hawke said with a controlled mocking tone.
"But of course. I would not dare to make an entrance otherwise. After all, you are guests in my home," Pasquale replied courteously and bowed shortly. His voice was refined, well-modulated and he spoke a beautiful trade tongue in his strange accent. "Tell me. How does a beautiful lady with clearly fine taste and I'm guessing a few skills up her sleeve," he said and pointed at her blue and red coat and the sheaths she forgot to hide beneath, "end up with such disgusting creatures?" he finished, gesturing mockingly at the elves.
"What can I say – I have bad taste in men," Hawke replied flatly.
Avicus laughed joyfully. "I've watched you from the shadows all this time. You led them here and you solved our ancient puzzle. Clearly, you are a bright girl and a practical spirit," he said and grinned deviously as he continued, "who would do well to reason which side to choose so her day would not be ruined."
"Foolish," Hawke said bravely as she took a step forward in an assertive position. "The ornament around your neck speaks enough for itself on how disgusting a cazzo's you are, pardon my Orlesian."
"Foolish?" Pasquale asked calmly. "We have never been foolish. We do the work of the Maker as we serve Him through death. Without death, without justice for those who are truly wicked, how could there have been Andraste?"
"You've got to be kidding," Hawke said with her arms crossed. "That's the dumbest most macabre statement I've ever heard to excuse your guild."
Pasquale sighed while keeping his grin and the dark-haired handsome mage approached her as he stretched his palm out. "Consider it our courtesy – if one so powerful and intelligent as you would become one of our leaders, we could be a legion in the catacombs. As it is, we are a dreadful few." In that moment she understood, that he knew she was a mage, maybe because she solved the puzzle, and the two or three dark-hooded figures behind the other assassins were Crow mages. Then it hit her that the one-eyed raven statues she kept seeing in the endless hallways and passages were probably magical wards which allowed them to see their group wherever they went.
Hawke made a dismissive gesture. "I want no part of you people."
"Such haste is criminal, my lady," Avicus said calmly. "Come for a moment at least. Only to you would I give up my leadership. Come see my lair with its hundreds of skulls that wronged innocents like you."
How disgusted she was, how much she deplored him and the other man, and all their followers. She could see the intellect in them, the cleverness and the hope behind their devious path. Would that Zevran and Armand were more set to quickly put an end to them and all their kith and kin. But they remained silent, probably because they were struck by fear in waiting for Hawke not to turn on them and join two men they were afraid of.
"Your lair with a hundred skulls?" she asked in amusement. "Don't make me laugh."
"We are creatures of the dark," Avicus said in all simplicity as he tried to approach her. Her blood froze in wondering if this whole charade was all because they indeed knew she was a mage who had a whole additional set of warrior skills they could greatly benefit from and that's why they were exposing such zeal and interest in her instead of downright attacking them. "We must never go into places of light, no matter how much we try and think it is right. The Maker has cursed us to the shadows."
"What Maker?" Hawke asked aggressively. "I go wherever I will. I kill those who are evil and the world belongs to me as much as I live out of it. And you ask me to "come down in the earth" with you? Into a catacomb full of skulls?" she asked in amusement while keeping a firm tone. "You ask me to rule over your fools in the name of what? A demon? You're too clever for your creed, my friend. Forsake it."
"No," Avicus said calmly, shaking his head and stepping backwards. "Mine is of spiritual purity. You can't tempt me from it, not with all your power and your apparent goodness. And I give my welcome to you." She had sparked something in him. They could all see it in his eyes. He was drawn to her, to her words, but he couldn't admit it.
"You'll never be a legion, let alone a spiritually pure one," Hawke said firmly. "The world will never allow it. You're nothing. So why don't you give up your trappings before I fall asleep from this foolish crusade you're pointlessly trying to lure me into?" Avicus drew closer again, as if she were a light and he wanted to be in it. He looked into her eyes, as if he were trying to read her thoughts of which he could get nothing from except those she said in words. Her companions' patience was nearing an end, Armand clenching his fists, Zevran slowly going for his pocket and Fenris for his sheaths.
"We are so gifted," Avicus said calmly, his face drawing a broad smile and his eyes narrowing. "There is so much to be observed, to be learned. Let me take you away from these filthy catacombs and show you how much you could be with my help." He drew even closer and something changed in his face. "You fear your magic." Fenris saw her clench her teeth. "You question yourself every day, if you are a beast or a saint. My thought is, one can be both. I can-" Avicus stopped and swiftly turned his head to her left, as did she, only to see him throwing a searing beam of light into Fenris who tried to silently charge into him. The spell blew right into all three elves and threw them into a wall.
Varric cleared his throat quickly, which she knew meant Look wherever you haven't looked yet. She looked above and saw the shadows of a few archers hidden between the gargoyle and raven statues in the walls. "STAY DOWN!" she screamed to the elves as they got up and she drew her swords out while rolling down and backwards from Avicus and the others. They weren't going to kill her first, that was obvious, which meant she could do well to distract them into catching her at least.
It was not a lost cause, so it seemed. Zevran threw a very strong smoke bomb in the enemy group and as he did so, Armand climbed on top of the walls in the fog and gutted every archer hidden up and above that Varric didn't get to shoot. Thank the Maker that Fenris glowed blue in the mist, because she needed to join forces with him and taunt the dozen assassins that were now trying to go after the others as they were issued by Pasquale.
Fenris punched an assassin brutally as he tried to rush over to Armand and Hawke jumped and kicked two of them that were going after Zevran. The two elves escaped in time and hid in the shadows to properly backstab the backstabbers. To their fortune, Armand made it his business to kill the mages first and with Varric's help from a distance and Zevran's surprisingly swift moves in stealth he managed to off two of them as he crept up from behind and made them trip.
Hawke tried to find and taunt either Pasquale or Avicus, but she couldn't see them anywhere, which was not a good sign. As Fenris came beside her, they stood back-to-back with their swords out forming barriers. "You know what to do," Hawke said calmly, to which Fenris nodded firmly and turned his markings on again to make any enemy run after him. Some of them bit their bait, and she slit one of the assassins' legs as they tried to chase him, only to get a surprise, but missed backstab from behind. She elbowed the figure and turned around. Of course it "missed", it was Pasquale with a very fine black longsword shimmering in the smoke and darkness. As they bumped swords, she intercepted his attack and turned to her side with her elbow raised, spinning and kicking her elbow into his shoulder. As she did so, she reached behind him and plunged her sword through his shoulder and kicked his back to the ground.
It didn't kill him and her chance to finish it slipped away as she got attacked from behind by two assassins. She turned around and formed a barrier with her swords as the two rogues tried to stab her, one with two sharp stilettos and the other with a longsword. She side-stepped the longsword attack by half-turning as she intercepted the sword with hers and shoved her elbow in the assassin's throat, then she quickly turned around to face the other one who was trying to backstab her. She bumped her sword into his daggers, shoving one away from his hand and grabbing him by the other. She dragged him by the hand lower and slit his throat. When she turned behind, it was too late. The guild master was gone.
Her frustration did not compare to the one Zevran had. He plunged his longsword and his dagger into two separate groups coming from different directions with no mercy as they ricocheted into three bodies on one side and two on the other. Armand remained close to him, even though his eyes were scanning the field for his own private enemy which was nowhere in sight. An assassin came from behind, swinging a broader sword at him and leaving a large part of his body open, and he quickly slit his chest and shoulder, kicking him into another one who was coming from behind the dead man. Fenris turned off his glow as Hawke finished the remaining rogues in sight and silently went for the ranged mages who were hiding behind… the tempest. A lightning storm was forming above their heads. As soon as he saw one dark-robed figure, he turned his glow on from the shadows to surprise it. The mage bent shortly to hit his leg with the sharp end of his staff and as he left his neck open, Fenris rapidly decapitated the mage. His fellow mage threw fireballs at him, which he intercepted with his sword nonchalantly as he slowly approached him. He was backing up recklessly in a corner and was probably low on the mana he kept wasting on him, so he tried to defend himself from Fenris's sword with his staff. As the mage intercepted Fenris's fake open attack, he raised the pommel of his sword that bumped into the staff, with the other end going down and cleaving through the man's chest.
The smoke persisted in this part of the room, as well as the tempest above their heads which now was clearly coming from somewhere else. Avicus needed to be stopped, because he was throwing spirit damage in-between this great display of primal channelling. Hawke got surprise-attacked again by Pasquale with his two-handed techniques. It was time to let the other sword go and do the same. As he rushed to thrust his sword at her, she intercepted it with her sword, and she noticed he didn't apply pressure to the outside. Instead, Pasquale tried to displace the thrust to the left and moved in to interrupt her follow-up attacks. With his sword on top of hers, now applying pressure, Hawke responded with swiftly stepping in and redirecting Pasquale's blade to his right. Now it seemed more and more like he was giving her chances to prove her might. As she powerfully redirected his blade to his right, Pasquale's inertia made him bend forward with his sword, to which she slammed her arms in-between his and immobilized his sword. Thank the Maker that Pasquale tried to grab her main hand to trap her sword, rather than proceeding with an attack, because his sword was right under her torso. She took the advantage to execute an elbow strike to his throat, then she shoved him with might and threw him over his left leg as he fell down. By doing so, she continued to trap his arm, which wrenched the sword out of her hands. In that moment, she was sure it was Fenris who dragged her away forcefully by the coat and picked up her sword. They ran into the smoke and got right beside the central pillar with the most phylacteries, where it turned out, Avicus was channelling his spells.
She clenched her teeth and reach out for him as Fenris did the same. With a swiftness that surprised them, he escaped their attack. For some reason, she knew exactly where he would go, so she ran after him and caught him, spinning him around after she threw a direct downward shot to his shoulder. She dragged him back to the pillar and had her sword shoved into his robe so he wouldn't escape. She looked at the phylacteries and closed her eyes, then in a swift motion opened her palms and used a massive forcewave to make the ground shake. She touched the pillars and they started to collapse, along with the blood vials that in vast numbers began to break.
"Never come near me again, do you hear?" she screamed at him. Avicus struggled against her immobilizing sword. "I can kill you by fire or by this sword if I so choose it," she shouted. "And why don't I choose it? Why don't I choose to slaughter you all miserable vermin? Why don't I do it? Because I loathe the violence of it and the cruelty, even though you're more evil than the other people I simply killed not a minute ago."
He was frantic under her grip, but of course, he couldn't have the slightest chance to do more, at least for a few seconds. She wished now, in her crazed state, that someone would come back to her spot and finish him off, as well as Pasquale. The blood from the vials poured into a cascade around them, on their clothes, on the ground, shards falling everywhere. Was her mind too attuned or distracted that she wouldn't let herself dragged into this abysmal filth?
His face glared at her with hatred in his smile, "You are perfect. And I curse you." She was taken aback by his contradiction and defiance.
"I warn you to stay away from me," Hawke shouted again. "Curse your god and your excuses, curse everything that you stand for. But whatever you do, stay clear of me for your own sake." He was planted there, looking up in awe as well as fury at her. She brought up the flames in her hands, channelling another forcewave to further animate the fire, and she quelled it with might and sent it down towards him. She willed it to kindle only to the edge of his black monkish robes. At once the cloth around his feet began to smoke and he crawled back in horror. He turned round and round in panic and tore the scorched pieces of robe off himself and trying with the other hand to shoot spirit damage at her without much success. Was he pretending? Once again he looked at her, fearless as before, but enraged in his helplessness. "Know what I could do to you," Hawke said aggressively, "and never come near me-"
Something like a harsh blow came from behind, mighty and painful, deeply dissipating her consciousness. It wasn't a blade, though it might as well have been that too in addition to what hit her, for she wouldn't have felt it further. She felt the blood magic in the last seconds, before the dark crept in, and she felt herself fall to her knees, her heart turning into a thousand tiny searing blades, attacking itself from inside out.