TW: Homophobia, racism, mentions of SA & suicide.

Night time, The Fade

Hawke was having a great dream. She'd never allowed, never gone so bold with it before. It was years in the future. The Circles were reformed. Those who wanted to stay, stayed. Those who wanted to leave, left. The Tranquil too could earn money from their work instead of the Chantry keeping it all to itself. Lesser schools of magic and Templar stations were being built throughout the world. Both mages and templars carried a card on their person, and needed to show up with it for their regular health check-ups. The Chantry opened its doors to all races, started paying taxes, and offered all those shiny unused golden hallways for free healing.

There was no more Alienage. No more sad, forgotten puddle at the end of the Kirkwall pipe. It became a museum. So people always remembered. An elf could be your local banker, your guardsman, your lawyer, your surgeon, your Maker-damned Viscount.

With the advent of lesser magic schools, governments were forced to keep up and invest in non-mage children's education too for fear of mages taking over the economy. Nobles would get dreadful and invest in higher education. Forget University of Orlais. University of Kirkwall was right here, awaiting applications from diverse backgrounds. Students were organising, trying to make the world better by being a pain in everyone's arse.

If you were a noble or a rich person and you weren't giving out scholarships, you were a pariah and an arsehole. If you donated money, good for you. You still got taxed. Best of all, the tax money went somewhere other than the Guard and Senechal Bran's expensive wardrobe. It took those Maker-damned iron spikes out of Lowtown, it replaced the sewer system, it refurbished the crumbling infrastructure, it outlawed any depiction of fucking slavery. The Gallows illuminated the sky as a joyous blast destroyed all the statues. Maybe a painting of them remained in what was now a museum. So people still remembered.

The Keep and the Chantry were booked for months with weddings between any races and any genders. Everyone was making out with whomever they wanted in broad daylight and no one gave a fuck. It was mundane. It was boring.

Things were looking good, and it was time for the worst fight of them all. The crushing of capitalism before it took over the world. Of course, it wasn't considered a 'real thing'. It was the kind of thing shouted by paranoids and loners and Qunari sympathisers. But the Arishok wasn't wrong. Tevinter was already there with their magic factories and chain gangs and slave trade. The dwarves weren't all that far behind, and everyone was starting to depend on their technology. They brought clocks to the surface, and subsequently, Thedas to its knees. It's not that Par Vollen was any different, she thought. Same thing, just no money. She didn't want the Qun here. They didn't have names, nor families, nor any real freedom. It was a miserable, rigid dictatorship. But they had healthcare and labour laws and housing and education and that was something to take away from it.

But the best part of the future was that Devon was here. She was right here, above where Hawke slept, on Fenris's rooftop. It was some high holiday and the sky was purple and the fairy lights in people's windows were aglow in an urban honeycomb. Fenris was happy and completely free and he had no more unanswered questions about who he was. He was testing out living with dyed hair so he'd look like his old self. He was probably going to give it up soon because it was too much hassle. He was laughing at her jokes—as always, the biggest compliment. Devon was making circles around him as he sat, building a flower crown on his head and getting annoyed when he laughed because it messed with her system. Hawke sat too and was blowing bubbles through an empty magnifying glass and, on her shoulders, trying to catch them, was the cutest little half-elf toddler.

"No!" the toddler shouted, missing the bubble.

"Aww, no!" Hawke shouted compassionately.

"No…" Fenris said softly, watching the bubbles float away.

"No," Devon said sternly, turning his head in the right position.

"What have I become?" Fenris said, sighing.

"You're pretty now," Devon said.

"Ouch?" Fenris said, insulted. Devon stuck a flower in his head that still had a thorn. "Ouch-ouch!" he said irately.

"Beauty is pain," Devon said, very matter-of-factly.

Fenris smirked. "Beauty is you."

Hawke broke into little snorts.

"Who is the Viscount now though?" Fenris said.

Hawke snorted. "Isabela."

Fenris chuckled. "Come now. Be realistic."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright. Saemus, probably. He likes the Qunari. With a little more reasoning, I could see him pave the way to social democracy."

"Oh, is that all?" Fenris said, chuckling.

"I dream big," Hawke said, smiling.

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Clearly," he said, but it wasn't his voice. It was Ravena's.

"Oh, come on!" Hawke said in frustration. "Don't make it weird!"

"It's what she does," Devon said in Crowley's voice.

"Oh, for fuck's sake…" Hawke said, rubbing her forehead.

"Who invited you here?" Fenris said in Ravena's voice.

"Who invited you here?" Devon said in Crowley's voice.

"I'm weaving the dream. And I can't emphasise how much this is a dream."

"Hmph. Behold, Desire, crapping all over her dreams."

"I'm being realistic."

"Guys…" Hawke said.

"You're being unnecessarily apathetic. Without dreams, there'd be no living. Just because you're a desire demon who lost her will to exist, doesn't mean everyone else has to be dragged down with you," Devon said in Crowley's voice, crossing her arms.

"My will to live?" Fenris said in Ravena's voice, very insulted. "You called that living?"

"There was a will, before all that. There is always a will," Devon said in Crowley's voice. "No matter how deeply it is buried underneath."

"Stop fucking psychoanalysing me," Fenris said in Ravena's voice. He started poking the little girl's chest. "You don't know shit about shit. You think you have it all figured out, but you don't."

"Alright, this has gone from weird to surreal," Hawke said sullenly. "Change your forms before I change you into a couple of bitches."

"I may not be fully 'Wisdom', but at least I'm trying. Hawke is trying," Crowley said in his real form. "At least we have a purpose."

"Right, right," Ravena said in her real form, crossing her arms. "You're so enlightened you not only have piles and piles of wisdom lying around, you have purpose sprinkled on top for good measure. The better for the desire demons to take stock and follow the 'Cult of Crowley'!" She scoffed, and sneered at him. "You are a blind, blind man."

"I'm blind?" Crowley said, very hurt.

Ravena poked his chest. "This was never about my wellbeing," she murmured curtly. "It was always about your damn pride. Because if your soulmate is a demon, it looks bad."

"I hate being a mage," Hawke said, sighing to herself. "Can you guys have your fight some other time? I'm trying to dream here."

"They always fight," Bucky said, appearing on the balustrade.

Ravena and Crowley looked at one another, and guilt started to form on their faces. "You're right. We're being selfish. I'm sorry," Ravena said, turning back into Fenris. "Now all of you, scram!"

But Bucky had something to say. It was like an electrical charge willed their shoulders straight, filled with determination and defiance. They went off the balustrade. "Oh, no. Absolutely not."

"What?" Hawke said, confused.

"He needs to leave all that ugliness behind him and move on," Bucky said, starting to look upset.

"What ugliness? He's beautiful," Hawke protested.

"I tried to tell you this before, but you didn't want to hear it!" Bucky said crossly. "This—" they said, waving in the air towards the dark-haired 'Fenris', "—is not something to let loose. You can't shake darkness like that free. It will eat him alive!"

"Wait a minute…" Hawke said, standing up. "What's going on with you? You're talking like a demon."

"I know what I'm talking about," Bucky said. They were nearing agitation. "I remember and now I can't un-remember!"

"Whoa, whoa," Crowley said. "Buddy, what happened?"

Bucky sighed, closing their eyes. "I think… I'm Compassion now."

"Wait, what? Like, fully? Since when?!" Crowley said, flabbergasted.

"I don't know," Bucky said, as if it wasn't a big deal. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that made me remember—how it was before, when I was a spirit. How I became a demon... again."

"Holy shit," Hawke said, dumbfounded. "How?"

"It's a lot," Bucky said, holding their head. "I don't know."

"What do you remember?" Hawke said.

Bucky breathed unsteadily. "I was… I strengthened mortals' nightmares once. To warn them. But… It worked too well and they would become numb of emotion. So, I took away people's nightmares instead, so they could sleep at night. There was so much war, so much suffering at the time. I took away this little girl's night terrors, who had been through more than a child should ever go through. I took her bad memories, so she couldn't dream about them. So they wouldn't upset her in waking life. I thought I was doing the right thing. One night I was called by an Avvar shaman. I thought she needed my help, but it was I who needed her. She showed me there was another way, and we helped people together. When we parted ways, I travelled back to the lake house, where the grown-up girl lived. I gave her memories back, and I tried to help her through them, like I did the others—"

"The only way out is through," Crowley said.

"Exactly," Bucky said, sadness glinting off their eyes. "But… I failed."

The rest looked at each other. "What did you do?" Hawke said.

"It was not I who…" Bucky said, their voice breaking. "She drowned herself… in the lake…" they said, tears in their eyes. "She couldn't take it. It was too much, and I failed. I tried to save her, but I couldn't—"

"Buddy, you couldn't have known—" Crowley said softly.

"Shut up!" Bucky shouted. "We don't know. We don't know shit! We fuck things up! That's all we do!"

"Damn…" Hawke said, dismayed. "I'm sorry, Bucky."

"Sorry is for victims," Bucky said tersely.

"Sorry is for the pain you have to carry," Hawke said softly.

Bucky shook their head, looking at their feet. "Whatever."

There was an uncomfortable silence. 'Fenris' helpfully broke it. "So… what? You think if he remembers, he won't be able to take it?"

"I sensed him from a world away. I sensed his…" Bucky said, shaking their head tiredly. "Failure. It's all just… failure. Failure and regret."

"Failure is not the end," Crowley intervened.

They all looked at him.

"What?" Crowley said, crossing his arms. "You think I don't know a thing or two about failure? Failure is my middle Mythal-damned name! We've all failed, otherwise we wouldn't be here. And did we meet our Maker? No. We continued. We became better," he said, looking at Ravena. She pursed her lips sulkily, avoiding his gaze.

"And I'm not exactly a poster child for success," Hawke said, shrugging. "Most of it was dumb luck."

"My failure lies at the bottom of the lake," Bucky said, slouching dejectedly. It made them look smaller. "I came out on the other side, but it was too late. I held her in my arms for an eternity, and I forgot why."

"Oh my Maker, that was already a corpse?" Hawke said, horror in her eyes. "How did it not decompose?"

"Cold magic," Bucky said, as if she were stupid.

"Right…" Hawke said, thinking. "Well, shit."

"Yeah…" Crowley said, hugging Bucky. "That's some tough shit."

"Wait, so Fenris coming here turned you back into a demon?" Hawke said, confused.

"Maybe," Bucky said weakly. "I don't know. I can't tell anymore."

Hawke frowned. "Wait… Were you the reflection in the pool? The one that pulled him in?"

"I was not the reflection, but yes, I did pull him in."

"What the fuck, Bucky? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't want to know."

"Andraste," Hawke said, rubbing her forehead. "Well, I want to know now. What was in your head when you decided to go gung-ho on an unsuspecting mortal?"

"I saved him," Bucky insisted sternly. "From the other spirit!"

"The elven woman?"

"Yes. He tries to have faith, but he fails. It is not genuine. The thread between him and hope is severed. But holy places comfort him. She heard his struggle. She was younger, less experienced. She was only trying to help. But she was doing it wrong!"

"What did she do wrong?"

"She was luring him in with surface memories, inoffensive impressions of the past, painting the Fade with them, trying to give him hope. I followed them around, looking out from my puddles, and she weaved my water into an image of his former self, trying to shake something loose. I couldn't allow it, so I tried to pull him away."

"Alright, well… in a way… you did good, but…" Hawke said, scratching her head.

Crowley snapped, smacking his lips. "How is he ever going to understand himself if he doesn't know?"

"Some things one shouldn't know," Bucky said slowly.

"Why? Did he do something bad?" Ruelle said, appearing atop a gargoyle.

"Ruelle, get away from this situation immediately," 'Fenris' commanded, slashing the air. "It is not healthy for you."

"I was getting lonely," Ruelle whined innocently.

"We'll be with you in a minute," Crowley said. "Did you talk to the deerfox yet?"

"Oh, shoot! No!" Ruelle said, disappearing.

'Fenris' sighed in relief, and mouthed a 'thank you' to Crowley.

Crowley nodded, then looked back at Bucky. "This is all bullshit. You're projecting your own trauma onto him."

"Am I?" Bucky protested.

"You failed at something; he failed at something."

"Well then, it's not projection, is it? It's compassion."

"And how easily compassion twists despite good intentions," Crowley said, crossing his arms with an air of paternal disappointment.

"Okay, enough," 'Fenris' snapped. "None of this matters. The only thing that matters is what he wants. It's his choice."

"It is about choice," Bucky said. They tilted their head. "Wouldn't you rather forget? I could make you forget."

"Fuck no," Crowley said, stepping in-between them.

"What?" Ravena said, turning back into herself.

"No one's making anyone forget," Hawke said, coming in-between them too.

"You wanted it to end, too," Bucky said. "You just couldn't."

"No… I couldn't. I had the Cave," Ravena said, gazing down. "Which was more or less the same thing… at least for a little while."

"Well, mortals don't have the Cave," Bucky protested.

"They do, in a way… It's called depression," Hawke said.

"And what's at the other end of depression?" Bucky said crossly.

"The end," Ravena said, a sadness coming over her. "I see what you're saying."

"Do you?" Crowley said irately, his hand waving disapprovingly between the two. "What I see is a demon and another demon enabling each other."

Hawke sighed deeply. "You're right."

"Are we?" Ravena protested. "I remember everything, and what good did it do me? If I can forget, maybe I can move on, just like you wanted me to."

"If you forget, you might become a spirit. But then you'll remember what happened to you eventually anyway, and we're all going to end up where we started," Crowley said, flailing his arms.

"Not if she allows the forgetting," Ravena insisted, pointing at Hawke. "Then it could be permanent."

"This is so fucked up," Hawke said, her head falling back. She touched her forehead. "Alright. As previously stated, no one is making anyone forget. You can't cast away the tormenting pieces of your old life like it's garbage you don't need. It doesn't work like that. History will just repeat itself unnecessarily. Secondly, Bucky has fallen down the deep end. It's not your fault. It was bad timing. The wound barely opened and then Fenris came in and it opened a little further. You weren't ready for that kind of challenge. But you remember full well that people are stronger than they think. Look at what we've built together. We've survived every storm. And Fenris will be alright, too. We don't let each other fall. We pick each other up. If you can't remember that right now, then let's stroll down memory lane, shall we?"

Bucky broke into tears. "I'm sorry," they said.

"It's okay," Hawke said, hugging them. She beckoned for the others to join.

"It's alright, buddy," Crowley said softly.

"It's hard," Ravena said flatly. "But it's not the end."

"No," Crowley said, smiling bittersweetly.

"Maybe…" Bucky said, sniffling. "Maybe it's time to say goodbye. I never got the chance."

"You… want to go to the lake?" Hawke said, trying to hide her worry.

"Yes," Bucky said weakly, as if they were merely a child. "Can we?"

"I think so," Hawke said with a honeyed smile, holding her hand out.

"Call on the others," Bucky said, taking both Hawke and Crowley's hands.

"No, no, no," Ravena protested.

"Yes," Bucky retorted. "We're in this together."

Lake Calenhad, The Fade

Behind the mist, a twilight was swallowing the lake. The water glistened between sleeping ducks under lowering branches, the air filled with dread. There was a young girl walking in the shallow waters. Her eyes filled with recognition at the sight of Bucky, underneath the soft vapour.

"That's… not her… right?" Ravena asked, leaning towards Crowley.

Belleth scoffed. "Lesser spirit."

"I'm sorry," Bucky said, walking towards her. "I failed you."

"It's not your fault," the little girl said.

"It is. I was arrogant. I thought I was enlightened, but I was a fool."

"You didn't know any better. We try, and sometimes we fail."

"Tell that to her!" Bucky said in tears. "Oh, wait. You can't! She's gone."

"And it hurt you so greatly you vowed never to harm another mortal again."

"I couldn't fulfil my purpose," Bucky said, their voice breaking.

"Learn from this, so you can fulfil your purpose. Or forget, and start anew."

"Wait… I thought forgetting was a demon's way," Crowley said, crossing his arms.

"Do I look like a demon?" the girl said with a little smile.

"No, you look like a human. Show us your true form," Crowley demanded.

"That is rather impossible," the little girl said. "You are all mortal-like now, and have very different opinions of what I am."

"This is too much, man," Hawke said, rubbing her forehead. "How are we supposed to know, then?"

"Have a little faith," the girl said, giggling.

"Oh, I see," Crowley said. "You're one of those Maker-obsessed spirits."

"If that is what you wish to think," the girl said, smiling. She held out her hand. "But none of that matters now. What matters is your choice, friend."

Bucky looked at Hawke, as if to ask permission.

"It is your choice, friend," Hawke said.

"Alright," Bucky said. They thought about it for a while. "Why does it matter if I learn from this? I can't fulfil my purpose anyway. I'm under this human's borders, and I cannot interact with mortals anymore."

"Well, I'll die someday," Hawke pointed out from behind. "And then what will you do?"

"Return to the Fade… hopefully," Crowley said, fingers crossed.

"I see what you're saying," Bucky said pensively.

"Plus, we're all mortal-like, aren't we?" Crowley added. "You interact with us. You make us better."

"You do," Murmur said softly, coming to hold their hand.

"Well," Ravena said with her arms crossed, shrugging. "Yeah."

"You're… alright, I suppose," Belleth said, crossing his arms and looking away.

"You're nice," Ygdag said flatly.

The deerfox brushed between Bucky's legs, as if to say he liked them.

"You're super nice!" Ruelle said joyfully. "And your lake is awesome! Not like this one. This one is sad. Yours has a rainbow coming out of it! And when you turn into a sea monster, you're not scary; you're adorable!"

"You've learned so much already," Crowley said, rubbing his neck. "I don't even think it was my doing. You just seem to be a natural," he said weakly, glancing at Ravena. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. There was resentment there, a touch of jealousy in Professor 'Not Fully Wisdom' Crowley, and she knew it. "It would be a shame to just forget it."

Bucky looked at them all and inhaled deeply. "Alright. I will learn from this." They looked at the little girl. "…What do I learn from this?"

"A good question," she said, tilting her head. "What did you do to me that was wrong?"

Bucky looked at her for a while. Their jaw clenched, their voice broke. "I gave you a world of hurt. Too much and all at once."

"Yes," she said, nodding. "You made me lose my faith. In people, in the world, in myself. Then you lost your own faith."

"I was just trying to help you move on. You were so miserable, and you couldn't remember why. There were only wild feelings with no meaning. You walked the earth, empty and broken, starving for forgiveness no one could give you. Because it was you whom you needed to forgive."

"Yes," the little girl said. "And forgiveness can't be given in a day. It takes time. It takes a lifetime."

Hawke nodded bittersweetly. "Yeah."

"Wait a minute…" Crowley said, squinting. "How do you have the concept of time?"

"A good question," the little girl said, smiling.

"Are you a little mortal yourself?"

"There is no good answer."

"Are you kidding me?" Hawke said, outraged. "I need to know. Were you trapped in someone else's head at some point?"

"Are you trapped?" she asked the others.

"Uhm… yes?" Crowley said, raising an eyebrow.

"We're definitely trapped," Belleth said dejectedly.

"Sort of," Ravena said, shrugging.

"Sort of?" Crowley said, shooting her an unhappy look.

"Are you sure about that?" the little girl said, giggling. "You have so little faith."

"Seeing is believing," Crowley protested. "We've tried getting out before, but we only end up reflecting our form into her world where the Veil is thin. There is nothing else."

"Maybe you weren't ready—"

Sunrise, Fenris's Mansion

"Hawke—" Fenris said, shaking her. "Ma adorae, wake up. Hawke—"

"What?" Hawke said, opening her eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake—"

"I need your talent," Fenris said flatly, holding up a big-ass book.

"Huh?" Hawke said, frowning.

"I need you to illustrate this, but correctly," Fenris said, pointing to a long black bird of possible paradise. "See? This line—"

"Aren't you supposed to be like… hungover and dead?"

"I am… But I forgot to arrange for my birthday attire. You… have a tailor, I presume?"

Hawke chuckled. "You forgot?"

"Yes," he said, rolling his eyes. "I had mages to befriend, didn't I?"

"Fair enough. You can find Ramsey in the building next to The Pink Door, on the third floor. His door is blue. Obviously tell him I sent you," she said, rising up on her pillow. "Now what am I painting?"

"This black sicklebill, but it's incorrect. The feather line here and here needs to be purple, and this blue plumage isn't really blue, it's more turquoise," he said, quite manically.

"How do you know that?"

"I just know."

"Have you seen one before?"

Fenris brooded. "No…"

"You just 'know'."

"I just know."

Hawke sighed, looking out the window. "Jamais vu, mais déjà vu."

"It's not a deja-vu," Fenris insisted.

"I meant it literally. Never seen, but already seen."

"Well, obviously."

"Okay…" she said, rubbing her forehead. "Wait a minute… You want to… what? Wear a bird costume? I mean… bold. I respect that. But—"

"No, I don't want to wear a bird costume," he said curtly, lowering the book in his lap. "Get your head out of your arse."

"My head is still in the Fade," she said, glaring at him. "We were having a moment."

"Sorry," he said, smiling a little. "I will make up for it by looking incredible."

"Will you?" she said, smirking.

"Well…" Fenris said, thinking. He fell back against the headboard, shoulder in hers. He touched the illustration. "You can't deny his outfit's on point."

"That is one elegant yet understated male," Hawke admitted. "So… what? You want to be a black sicklebill in elven form?"

Fenris shrugged. "What could be more strapping than that?"

A topless elf, spinning black silky rope in his hand. Ready to STRAP. YOU. UP.

She contained the thought and smirked. "Well, as long as you dance the part, Billy."

"No, no. The metaphor ends there."

"What is it with you and dancing?"

"It's… a love-hate relationship."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Of course it is." She tapped on his leg over the blanket. "Well, I've got an hour. No more. I have a million things to do today."

"And yet, I have nothing," Fenris said, bare resentment in his voice.

"Nope."

"And why not?"

"I've been neglecting the others. Sebastian barely remembers my face. Just enjoy some days off."

"Ugh," Fenris said, letting his head fall down on the pillow.

Hawke laughed and shook her head. "You are the only person I know who can make a day off sound like a tragedy."

"What am I supposed to do with my life? Knit?"

"I don't know. Find out. That's your new mission."

Fenris groaned. "I'm not getting paid for this, am I?"

"Of course you are," Hawke said, leaning in. "In experience," she whispered.

Fenris looked at her.

"Boop!" she said, poking his nose.

"Careful," he warned, motionless. "I bite."

The third time would be the really good time. She flashed her eyebrows. "I know. It makes me feel alive."

Fenris looked at her lips, and beckoned to her slowly. Hawke came in closer, but his lips didn't touch her, only teased. He pulled her hair, the better for her ear to hear him. "You know what makes me feel alive?"

"Roughing it, apparently," she said, chuckling.

"Mhm," he said, opening his claw and pulling harder. "It gets my blood flowing. Doing things. Out there. Where I don't know if I'm going to live or die. Where I can have your back, and watch it work. Where I can come out on top and warm waves of accomplishment can wash over me. So, if my blood isn't flowing…" he said, pulling her back to face him. He looked calm and detached, with five layers of smug hidden underneath. "How will yours?" he said softly.

Oh, boy.

She couldn't judge a workaholic, however. She'd been Workaholic of the Year for four years and counting.

"Wait…" she said, chuckling. "Just to be clear—if I don't work with you, you won't 'work' with me?"

Fenris smiled. It was an evil smile.

"Wow," Hawke said, grinning. "I knew you'd be the type to use sex as a weapon."

Fenris grinned back. "I know my weapons," he said, glancing down. His eyelids came up languidly. "And the people who enjoy them."

"Fine…" she said, raising a sharp eyebrow. "I don't have anything for today and tomorrow, but I'm breaking into the Gallows after that. You're more than welcome to come. Happy?"

Fenris did not look happy. "Are you insane?"

"Yes? But you knew that already," she said, amused. "I need to find the evidence for the unlawful tranquilising, and Anders has a way in."

"Of course he does," he grumbled, looking away.

"Come on. Don't be like that. This is serious."

"Oh, it's serious."

"I was in the Gallows yesterday. There was a fresh batch of Tranquil in the courtyard. You should have seen—"

Fenris held his palm up, and rose in bed. "You… went to the Gallows."

"Yes…?" Hawke said, narrowing her eyes. "I also went to Lowtown, the Docks, Darktown, the apothecary, the butcher's, the grocer's. Should I give you a daily list?"

"I… don't care where you go," Fenris said, his palm still up. "I don't care where you go, whom you talk to, whom you're friends with, what you do in your everyday life." He was speaking slowly, sitting on a storm. "But if you go straight into the tiger's den, that's a different story."

"Relax. They can't arrest me for shopping," Hawke said, rolling her eyes. Plus, Aveline was there. "Plus—"

He exhaled, hard. "That's not the point," he said sternly, standing up. He walked slowly towards the window, looking down, hands on his hips. He went into his thoughts for a while. He brushed up his bangs. "Don't do that to me, Hawke," he said, his head turning sideways. It was a new kind of voice. A low, affected voice.

He was scared.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"I can't sit back and 'relax' for a couple days not knowing if you are ever coming back," he said to the window, suppressing fury.

You're an idiot, something told her inside.

She walked up to him. "I'm going to hug you now," she said, putting her arms around him and her head on his shoulder. "If it's Templars, you're there with me. No fuss, no but's, no coconuts."

"Thank you," he said softly, grabbing her forearm. He took her hand and kissed it and turned around. He looked sad. "How are we breaking into the Gallows?"

"Through an underground tunnel," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "It leads straight into the basement and the lower-level libraries. Lots of Tranquil down there. You should have heard how one of them spoke about Ser Alrik, this sadist that experiments on mages until they crack and get possessed." Fenris sat down on the edge of the bed and listened carefully. "He was the one who unlawfully made Karl Tranquil. This new Tranquil said to her boyfriend in the courtyard—

Yesterday, The Gallows

"I am Ser Alrik's now. He is the only one who can command me," the young woman said, walking away from the elf.

"No…" the elf said softly, disbelief in his voice.

"Whaaat the fuck…" Varric whispered.

"Weird, right? Another lass said the same thing a couple of days ago, word for word," Isabela said, crossing her arms. "Sounds like this Alrik has a kink."

"A kink? You mean rape," Hawke said, raising her voice.

"Well…" Isabela said, tilting her head. She hadn't given the Tranquil much thought.

"If it looks like a rape, swims like a rape and quacks like a rape…" Aveline said curtly, crossing her arms.

"Uhm, can we maybe not shout 'Rape!' in the courtyard? It has bad idea written all over it," Varric said, rubbing his forehead.

"I'm gonna talk to her," Hawke decided.

"I'll talk to her," Aveline said, moving past her.

"I'll talk to him," Isabela said, leaving.

"I better join her," Varric said, sighing.

"Okay…" Hawke said, looking around the courtyard. She spotted Cullen. "Well, if I'm left unsupervised…" she said, walking towards him. "Hello-lo-lo."

"Good day, Lady Hawke," Cullen said, crossing his arms. "I see you've reconsidered seeing the Knight-Commander."

"I haven't gotten around to her yet—I'm very, very busy, you see," Hawke said with a smile, adjusting a button on her sleeve.

"I don't mean to sound disrespectful, Lady Hawke, but this seems like a failure to prioritise," Cullen said, a little annoyed. Translation: Are you even taking this seriously?

"You wound me, Knight-Captain," Hawke said, smiling. She looked at her fingernails. "I hope you're getting along."

Cullen frowned, but tried not to. "Splendidly." If only you two would get along, he would have liked to add.

"Don't worry," Hawke said, smiling. "This is not some kind of Kirkwall versus Templars situation. We're all just pals here."

"I should hope so. History is still fresh in some people's minds," Cullen said, pertaining to the bloodbath two decades ago with Meredith and the former Viscount.

"Of course not. We're all trying to do what's best for Kirkwall," Hawke said, her smile widening. "Don't feel like you have to take sides. I'm not a jealous girl."

A flash of defensiveness shone through Cullen's well-crafted exterior. He was having problems with Meredith. "My loyalty is to the Order, Lady Hawke."

"You know, I've always been more of a Cullen girl than a Meredith girl. He gets things done," Hawke teased.

Cullen sighed, looking down. "It seems I'm the only one," he said sullenly.

"I feel your pain, and I want to help you. Honestly, it's been weighing on me so heavily," Hawke said, purposefully fake. "But there's just this thing that's been keeping me up at night. I want to talk to the Knight-Commander. I do. I mean… If we could just calmly talk, exchange information, we could blow this thing wide open!"

Cullen seemed unimpressed, but there was a rigidity in him. "Right…"

"But I can't think straight with this burden on my mind…" Hawke said with pathos, rubbing her forehead tiredly. Suddenly, she slapped herself on the forehead. "Oh! You're the Knight-Captain! You know everything's that's going on around here! Information probably comes at you before you even request it, am I right?"

"Where are you going with this?" Cullen said, narrowing his eyes.

"I just need a good night's sleep, see," Hawke said, smiling and shrugging. "It's come to my attention—in fact, it's come to a lot of uncomfortable customers' attention here—that there are more and more Tranquil in the yard. Especially young women…" she said, a little louder. Eyes started to come on them. "Would you say that's a little…" she said quietly, squinting back, "…suspicious?"

Cullen tried not to look around. "Not at all," he said sternly. "Our numbers have nearly doubled in the past year."

"But why so many WOMEN?" Hawke pressed a little loudly, raising her eyebrows. Cullen didn't like that. "You wouldn't want Kirkwall to think the Templars have yet another…" she said quietly, leaning in. She looked around the yard, where almost no female and certainly no elven Templar existed, "PREJUDICE?" she said loudly near his ear.

Cullen didn't move or express, save for rubbing his ear. "There is no prejudice here, only coincidence."

"And what the Tranquil have to say is making people really uncomfortable."

"Tranquil always make people uncomfortable."

"I mean really uncomfortable. They're all going, 'I am Ser Alrik's. Only he can command me.' Does that sound…" she said, crossing her arms, "…Andrastian, to you?"

Cullen cleared his throat, and brushed it off. "Do not read into it," he said, chuckling. "Ser Alrik simply employs a… colourful manner of speaking."

"Surely you can investigate that and put my mind at ease," Hawke said, tilting her head. "After all, the Tranquil are not mages. They are Kirkwallers, responsible for half of our economy. We don't want our crafty hidden hands of the market burning out from working the double shift over rape now, do we?" she said, raising her voice only a little with one particular word in that sentence.

"Rape?" Cullen said, immediately unseated. He shook his head, rubbing his forehead. "That is quite an accusation."

"It is. And we're speaking of children here, no less," Hawke insisted calmly, looking up at the slave statues. Cullen's gaze followed hers. She looked back at him. "I don't know about the Knight-Commander, but I'm a nice girl. You understand, don't you? You strike me as a real nice guy. That's why I'm Team Cullen, all the way!" she said, very enthusiastically. She lowered her voice. "But things like that make me… mmm… not very nice. What about you?"

Cullen sighed heavily. "I shall look into the matter."

"Will you?"

"I am on it."

Translation: No.

"But are you, though?" Hawke said, squinting.

"If it gets you into her office," Cullen said, glaring at her.

Hawke chuckled. "If she actually wants to see me, she will find a way," she said, looking at her fingernails. "Any good negotiator would." She let her hand fall down, her eyes meeting his. "And I simply don't have anything to discuss with a bad negotiator."

"Right…" Cullen said, chuckling. "Practically an invitation to come to your doorstep."

"My doors are wide open," Hawke said, smiling as her arms came apart. She caught Emeric's silhouette around the shops. "Emeric! Just the man I was looking for!" she shouted, and waved at Cullen. "Toodles."

It wasn't her line. It surprised her that she said it. But… there was a nervousness she was trying to hide, and there was nothing better than a beamish little goodbye like her mother would do when she knew she had you.

Sunrise, Fenris's Mansion

"It's sick, Fenris!" Hawke said furiously. "It's wrong!"

Fenris inhaled deeply, and didn't breathe out. He looked out the window. "We should kill him."

"Uhm…" Hawke said. She didn't expect that. He turned on the Templars fast.

"We should knock him out, crucify him and—"

"What?"

"No, forget all that. Just let me do it. I will lyrium-rip his privates off."

"Or we could expose him, so he sees justice."

Fenris scoffed. "Do you really believe they don't know what he's doing?"

"They might, which makes it worse," Hawke insisted. "I know sickos like him. He's bound to keep souvenirs or logs or some kind of shit that makes him feel powerful. You let that kind of man out there, dealing with the public, with minors, people are bound to lose their shit."

"You… have a point, but if he gets fired, where will he go to get his jollies but the people of Kirkwall?"

Hawke inhaled, thinking. "You can lyrium-rip whatever you want on your own time. I need him alive right now. When he gets fired, go nuts. Pun intended."

"Fine," Fenris said.

Sunrise, The Gallows

There was a loud, aggressive banging at the door.

"Yes…?" Thrask said.

"Where in the Void were you last night?" Cullen said curtly.

"Downstairs, with the Tranquil. You demoted me, remember?"

"I should've demoted your mouth, but I didn't think I'd need to tape that shut!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about being a good Templar, Thrask!" Cullen shouted, pointing right in his face. "Toeing the Order line and not fucking the people who pay your wages every month!" He was nearing the end of his wits. He'd never heard him curse before.

But Thrask wasn't afraid anymore. He sniggered. "How is taking a bottom-feeding rank and not complaining not toeing the Order line?"

"The Knight-Commander nearly broke my office door down asking me why you are on the witness list for Lady Hawke!" Cullen shouted. His eyes were aflame with rage. "You are making me look like a fucking idiot for not firing you! Are you trying to get me fired?"

"Cullen…" Thrask said, rubbing his forehead.

"Knight-Captain."

"Knight-Captain… this is not about you," Thrask said calmly. "I am trying to do the right thing by those elves. One day, history will judge our actions. They will judge yours, too."

"Stop acting like you're above all this," Cullen said curtly. Their colleagues started to come out of their chambers, listening. "Stop acting like you can just do… whatever you want without consequences." He started whispering, "Don't think I don't remember what you did three years ago. Do you think I'm made out of pardons?" He started shouting, "Think again! The Templars' dirt is your dirt! You're a Templar! Start acting like one, or you'll end up on the street with Samson sucking off malcontents for a quarter ounce of lyrium!" he said, storming off. "Alrik…"

"Knight-Captain," Alrik said, getting out of his way.

Thrask closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Tsk, tsk," Alrik said, crossing his arms and leaning on the opposite wall. "Are you being naughty again, Thrask?"

"I am in no mood for your childish prattle," Thrask threatened.

"What are you in the mood for, then?" Alrik said, mimicking felatio. Other Templars in the doorways laughed. "Preparing for your next occupation, perhaps?"

"Shut up," Thrask said curtly.

"Where's Beaufort? Wake that little queer up so he can give Thrask some cock-sucking pointers—"

"You are a pathetic little man," Thrask said slowly, coming in his face.

"Sorry, Thrask, I'm not into degradation," Alrik said, smirking. "Seems more like that would be your thing, no? A self-hating Templar, ready to sell out his own? I mean if that's not asking for a beating, I don't know what could."

Thrask came in even closer, and the other Templars started whistling and making kissy faces.

"I know what you're into, you pervert. Tranquil don't know how to keep secrets," Thrask said lowly. "Do not think it will be just me on the street with Samson."

"And what are you going to do? Hm?" Alrik said quietly. "Are you going to tell Mummy on me? Do you think she'll believe anything you say at this point? Cullen was right. You need to get over yourself. Your word doesn't mean anything anymore. You can't keep it if it was sown into your bloody skin; you've made that clear."

Thrask's nostrils flared. He didn't want to lose it. He really tried not to. But it was too late. He backed off and pointed at him and looked around. "This man is a sadist and a rapist and solely responsible for the last half a dozen demonic possessions! The reason Clarke, and Baxter, and Pérez wake us up in the night screaming? Why Maxwell and Blau will never walk again without a limp? Why Keran requested a transfer to gen pop? Alrik! It's all Alrik! He gets his bloody rocks off torturing kids until they turn! And when he's not doing that, he's turning young women Tranquil and making them do unspeakable things they cannot possibly consent to!" There was a stunned silence. His face was sweating. Goodbye, any kind of normal breathing. His index finger was shaking in the air. "You think I will give the Order a bad name? Think again! It's men like Alrik who give us a bad name! Men who take the Maker's name in vain and forget their purpose and abuse their powers! And all it takes is a room full of people knowing about it and not saying anything for fear of retribution! I know you know! Everyone knows at this point! They're practically shouting it in the yard! And if you didn't, you know now! I am done keeping my mouth shut. And I hope for your sakes you do the same, because I know some of you are having relations with mages. And when you cough and look the other way and blame it on a male mage and your illicit children get shipped off to another Circle, there will be another deviant just like him waiting to prey on them!"

"Whoa," Alrik said calmly. "Those are very serious accusations. I hope you have evidence to support that."

"The evidence is walking around these halls every day," Thrask threatened. "And if one of them turns up mute or dead, we all know who to look at," he said, storming off.

"Ser," Lucy said monotonously in the main doorway, making way with her breakfast cart.

"Lucy," Thrask said coldly, leaving. He had to sound cold, but it was more than that. He had to keep it in, because every time he saw the kids he lost walking around as if they had no more soul, it broke his heart a little more.

But unbeknownst to him, the Templars in the hallway were still in stunned silence, and awkwardly made a barrier around Lucy.

"Relax," Alrik said derisively. "He's crazy. You saw how senseless he was being. That man is a loose cannon. And like I'd ever even look at a wild Qunari."

"I am not Qunari," Lucy said monosyllabically.

Alrik sniggered and prepared to move past them. "Just because you have a warm complexion and daddy cut your horns, doesn't make you human."

"Lay off, Alrik," Pérez said curtly.

"Oh, please," Alrik said, snickering. "One minute you don't give a shit about the dolls, the next Thrask has a tantrum and you're doll-lovers. Do you even have a spine?"

"I have night terrors," Pérez said flatly, glowering at him.

Sunrise, Aveline's Apartment

Soft dust particles danced in the morning light, between the half-drawn curtains. Donnic and Aveline were still in bed, playing with each other's hair.

"I don't want to go to work," Donnic whined with a warm smile.

"Well…" Aveline said, smirking. "As your partner, I don't want you to go either. But as Captain…"

"Get my arse going already?" Donnic guessed, chuckling.

"Get your fine arse going… slowly," Aveline said with a grin, turning on her back and folding her hands behind her head.

Donnic grinned back, flashing his eyebrows. "Yes, m'am," he said, rising from bed.

He didn't have to put on a show. He was confident enough to button his shirt ever so nonchalantly. Her eyes approved.

"See you tonight," Donnic said, sitting on the edge of the bed and kissing her. "Oh, by the way. Quick thing—" he said, arranging a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I love you."

Aveline's smile died. "What?" she said, her eyes following him as he went to the door.

"Codfather later?" Donnic said casually behind the half-closed door. "Maybe The Pink Door?"

Dust shimmered in front of her green eyes. They kept looking down, pondering. He was going to leave it at that and go, when she said—

"Thank you."

Morning, Fenris's Mansion

"Done!" Hawke shouted at the desk, holding the paper up.

Fenris came back in from the kitchen, perusing the illustration. "Excellent," he said. He walked closer, caressing her cheek. "You don't know what this means to me."

"Anything for my Fen Fen," Hawke said, smiling. She turned perpendicularly on the chair and crossed her legs. "So, is this your favourite bird?"

"Perhaps," Fenris said, turning the paper around. "Epimachus fastosus," he enunciated, as if it were some formidable beast. "Proud and equipped for battle!"

"Oh, right, that one," she said, smiling. "You were going on about it a few years ago."

"I am set in my ways," he said, smiling a little.

"Are you?" she said, tilting her head.

Fenris turned the illustration around and brought it close to his chest. "Don't take this away from me."

"I'm only teasing," Hawke said, chuckling. "Also, the paint hasn't dried, so…"

He took the paper away and looked down at himself. "Fasta vass," he said, rubbing his sweater.

"Aaand now you've made it worse," she said, chuckling.

He put the illustration down and took his sweater off.

"Yeaaah," she said lowly, biting her lip. "All that's missing is some music and breaking into dance."

He chuckled, going to his wardrobe. "That may actually break you."

"Probably," she said, grinning.

"Well, you're safe. My routine is not for anyone's eyes at the moment," he said, smirking and grabbing a black vest with turquoise piping from his wardrobe.

"I'm sorry, what?" she said, swallowing. "You have a routine?"

He grinned, putting an arm into the hole. "Maybe."

Hawke didn't have time to answer. She was too busy picturing about a thousand ways this man could dance, and barely any were funny now.

Fenris laughed heartily. "You are so red right now."

Hawke breathed out and fanned herself, chuckling.

"You'll have been so pent up by the end of the week," Fenris said, buttoning his vest and smirking seductively. "It will be interesting to see."

"I will—" Hawke said, shaking her head in a fury. "You better prepare yourself. Say your prayers and everything."

A corner of his mouth curled up into a grin. He looked down and walked over to her. He stopped in her face, his thighs apart. She opened her mouth slightly and put her tongue in her cheek. He took her by the chin and made her look up at him. "I doubt the atheist shall be so lucky."

The tongue in her cheek came out, and licked along the top of her lips. "It would take a lot for me to become a believer," she said, grinning.

He bent down to her, but didn't kiss her. His green eyes impaled her quietly, searching for weakness. She enjoyed it. "Believer or not, my name and the Maker's will be synonymous."

She kept the big woof well-bottled, but a little chuckle escaped her lips. "Look at you, so okay with sacrilege."

The mouth corner stretched again into a grin, and he looked at her lips. "For the right reasons," he said, looking back in her eyes.

Ah, but there was no more time. Such a shame. She cut the bullshit and pulled him by the vest to her lips. He wasn't shaken this time, his kissing very deliberate. The motions breathed an iron-clad message into her: Good luck not thinking about me out there.

He was right to be confident about it. People were already picking up on her spacing out.

"Don't forget your breakfast," Fenris said, pulling her up so he took to the desk instead.

"Aww, thanks," Hawke said warmly. She stopped in the doorway, tracing a finger on it. "Wanna go on a date tonight?"

He was about to say… something, but nothing came out. He looked out the window, a little slouch in his shoulders. "Fine," he said softly, looking down.

She smacked her lips. "Killer enthusiasm, Fen Fen."

"Look, you know…" he said rigidly, his shoulders curling. "Yeah."

Go out in public in some far-away land, no problem. He was the striking gentleman. Make him go out in Kirkwall, he was a bumbling mess. This problem had to be addressed.

"I'll come by for lunch tomorrow, too," she offered, shrugging. "Have ourselves a little," she said, flashing her eyebrows, "private affair."

His eyebrows rose a little in something like joy or expectation, cracking the stony exterior. He was already thinking what to make. "Alright, ma adorae," he said, smiling.

"Yes!" she said with a fist in the air, spinning around.

"Don't die," he said after her.

"Don't brood!" she shouted back.

Unbeknownst to her, he waited for her to disappear.

"Hmph. 'Relax'. 'Don't brood'," he complained to himself. "As if those could ever be synonymous."