Tw for torture, forced cannibalism, corporal punishment

To say Harvel was worried about his granddaughter would have been an understatement. Mara had lost her parents so young, at only fifteen, and the girl had never quite recovered. Mara was always a wild child, but she had become reckless after the loss, suicidal even. And Harvel could admit that he'd spent more time yelling at her in worry, than comforting her in her grief.

Obviously Harvel was grieving too. He had lost his only son and his wife. Harvel didn't mean to take his grief out on his only remaining relative, but Mara had become sarcastic to the point of obnoxiousness, disrespectful to her elders, and was harming herself in dangerous ways that made him sick with worry. Harvel felt like he was just sitting on the sidelines, watching the only family he had left slowly kill herself, and there was nothing he could do but scream and beg her to stop.

Well, maybe Harvel was lying about Mara being his only family. There were still his in-laws, but they'd never welcomed him in quite the same way. Some of Mara's younger cousins were more hospitable, but still they were still human and their ignorant but well-meaning quips were tiring to put up with. Harvel had never had anyone on his elven side of the family. He grew up in the alienage's orphanage, since elven children were not allowed in the Chantry one. And the elven orphanage never kept good records, so that part of his life was just missing, taken like so much else.

But the Maker gives as much as he takes. Harvel had a long lovely life with Layla, and she gave him all the warmth a family had to offer. And though she and Brahon were taken too soon, the Maker spared his innocent granddaughter. Now Harvel stared at his granddaughter's growing belly, barely poking out with life. The Maker blessed him with a long life, and now he was going to help Mara welcome a new child in the world. It was definitely a joyous occasion, even if he wished Layla, Brahon, and his wife were there to see it.

Mara was folding some laundry in front of the TV, watching with Harvel. Leandra had gone to Jaheem's house for dinner so for once it was just the two of them, again, like old times. Harvel did love Leandra, but it was hard for him to relax and act natural around her. His old impulse to cater to her every need still overrode anything else. And though Leandra did her best to help out with chores, Harvel was always tidying up and fixing the stuff she 'cleaned.'

The televised news report had more ill tidings. The abomination on the loose had killed more than twenty people, and the newscasters were now discussing the competence of the Templars' current chain of command and whether or not new leadership was needed.

Harvel looked at his granddaughter worriedly. According to the death toll, the killer favored pregnant women as victims. But the demon also targeted the elderly, sick, and children.

Harvel decided to check his old wards on the doors and windows. The mix of salt, ash, and raw rice were still lined evenly on all the entrances of the house and Harvel muttered his prayers over them. Mara followed her grandfather as he fussed. "Lolo, you don't have to do that every night."

"Yes, I do," Harvel argued with a wagging knotted finger. "Until those incompetent Templars catch the creature, we need to take every precaution." He turned to Mara. "We should bless ourselves and pray for the Maker's protection."

Mara scoffed, blowing her choppy bangs off her forehead. "The Maker is just a fairytale."

Harvel scowled. "Don't say that!" Harvel grabbed Mara's hand and crossed his chest as he muttered for the Maker's forgiveness. His cane made a thud as he walked, dragging his granddaughter to their altar, and he made Mara kneel in front of Andraste. Andraste's brightly carved figure stood, lit up by candlelight, and offerings of brightly colored rice and bread surrounded her. Her robes were intricately woven and she stood bathed in a ring of fire. Her hair was bright gold and her lips blood red, her mouth open in song.

Then, with a grit of his teeth and creak of his knees, Harvel knelt beside Mara and started to sing the Chant.

I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade
For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light
And nothing that He had wrought shall be lost.

Mara yawned exaggeratedly and Harvel scowled again. "Girl you are tempting fate with your blasphemy."

"It's not like things can get much worse," Mara snapped back.

Harvel's shoulders dropped, not wanting to point out all the ways it could. He didn't like arguing with his granddaughter, but he could see her going down a dark path. Harvel glanced at Mara, readying himself for another fight. "Tell me the truth. Your child is Gamlen's?"

Mara's mouth dropped and gaped, and then her cheeks flamed as she looked down. Mara was never able to keep secrets from him, even though she tried. "I know you like Gamlen, but you can't tell him. Or Leandra."

Harvel rolled his eyes. "I never liked Gamlen." Then he gritted his teeth. "And you're probably right that Leandra would make this her business when it's not."

Mara's eyes darted to Harvel in surprise. "You don't like Gamlen? But the wallop matches. And you always hung out. And you laughed at his jokes!"

Harvel grimaced, remembering how hard that had been to tolerate. "I'm in debt to his family, and he was dating my granddaughter. Of course I was polite to him. What could I say?" Harvel gritted his teeth again. "But I never liked the way he treated you. He never treasured you." He looked down at his hands, slightly shaking. "When he barged into the house screaming at you and stealing back everything he gave you, I admit, I almost pulled my shotgun on him."

Mara's jaw dropped. "You didn't."

"I did," Harvel chuckled, his lips wobbling into a nervous line. "It's dangerous for people of his station to take interest in the people of our station. I was just scared you would shut me out if I tried to separate the two of you."

Mara's jaw gaped as she looked down at her belly, unsure of what to say. She bit her lip. "I guess you're probably right that I wouldn't have listened if you tried to tell me." Mara chuckled as she looked up to the Heavens. "Maker, help me, I've never been good at listening."

Harvel chuckled back as he grabbed his granddaughter's hand and held it. "I'm not sure I like you being engaged to a convict either." Harvel's wrinkled face twisted with a frown. "I don't even know this man. He just showed up in your life and wants to claim your child? Tell me the truth. How long did you know him, before you said yes to marrying him?"

Mara smirked knowingly. "You proposed to Lola after knowing her for two weeks."

Harvel grimaced. He'd forgotten that. Now how was he going to convince this child to see sense?

Mara squeezed Harvel's hand. "He's a good man, Lolo. You should come down to the prison sometime and get to know him. I think he'd like to meet you."

Harvel shuddered at the thought of setting foot in that place, but he nodded. "I guess you're not leaving me with much choice." Harvel glanced at his granddaughter. "There's no way I can talk you out of this?"

Mara waggled her eyebrows playfully. "When have you ever been able to talk me out of anything?"

Harvel chuckled, relenting at that. "Then help me up. I need to show you something."

Mara helped her grandfather to his feet, and he used his cane to bring himself to his full height, which was only a few inches taller than Mara. He dragged her into the attic, his knees threatening to give out on every step, but he willed himself to push through the pain. It helped that Mara let him put most of his weight on her.

Then they were in the attic, and Harvel clicked on the light dangling at the center. The room was filled with everything Mara would ever need to raise her baby, packed neatly in marked boxes.

"I held onto everything Brahon grew out of. And Brahon saved everything from your childhood, too." Harvel's hand glided around the edge of a cloth bassinet in the center of the room. It was in an antique style, but rustic and lovely. "This was passed on in your Lola's family for generations. You can pass it on when your little one has a little one."

Mara's eyes were tearing up as she touched the crib. Its faded embroidery displayed a group of nugs playing amongst some shrubbery. "I remember this."

Harvel started pointing out different boxes. "We saved cloth diapers, lots of your clothes, stuffed animals, your old bathtub, some books that you might remember as well." He pointed to a dark corner. "See that rocking chair. Your Lola picked that out when we had Brahon."

It was a deep red brown intricately carved piece, with a high arching back that made the image of a branching tree. Harvel remembered Layla sitting Brahon down on that chair and rocking him to sleep with stories. And eventually Brahon did the same to Mara. And now Mara would do that to this unnamed child he had yet to meet.

The tears spilled off of Mara's cheeks as she looked around at everything, obviously overwhelmed by the gesture. She wrapped Harvel in a warm hug, and Harvel felt her warmth as her belly poked at him. "It's perfect, Lolo."

Harvel rubbed her back. "Have Leandra help you sort through everything here later. With the baby coming we're going to have to think of where to put her." Harvel pulled away with a frown. "Leandra is moving out eventually, right?"

Mara laughed, wiping her wet eyes. "I thought you liked Leandra."

"I do, I do," Harvel said quickly. Although Harvel was tired of acting proper and picking up after Leandra in his own home. "But there's a baby coming. Where is she going to sleep? With you?"

Mara squeezed Harvel's shoulders with a knowing laugh. "We'll figure it out, Lolo, don't worry."

—-

A month crawled by second by second. Malcolm was only able to keep track of the days because of the lyrium shipments he had to deliver. As much as he hated being tied to Cross, he needed that time on the outside to have a moment to talk to someone other than Spirits and get some clean-ish air to breathe. Spending so long sleeping in a cell was quickly making him anxious, snappy and claustrophobic. He missed sunlight. He missed good food. He missed Charlie and Taylor and Carver. He missed Leandra. Every day that passed, the edges of his sanity shredded apart a little further, and it didn't help that this was making finding the Hunger demon harder.

There was a death almost every other night. Meredith tranquilized Getran, the poor elf-boy who tried to escape, and two others that grew sick under the new diet the Circle imposed. Still, the murders continued, mages among the victim count now. The city was growing more and more restless, as the citizens blamed the Templars for failing them.

Malcolm wasn't sure why Meredith hadn't Tranquilized him yet. She visited him every night to taunt him with the fact that she could do it at any time, and yet it seemed she was waiting for Malcolm to break, to beg for his life.

Malcolm would never give her the satisfaction.

Malcolm wasn't sure what to do now that he had nothing but time. The Void portal turned out to be a success, and now all his stuff was safely tucked away where Meredith could no longer touch it. But his training was getting nowhere with Chef as he had no opportunities to feed Kindness or Honesty. Soon all the misery in his life was just turning to bitterness and the only thing he could do was to take it out on Gamlen.

Malcolm fell into a pit of despair when he realized he couldn't keep his promise to Leandra and take revenge on the person who ruined her life. But then it clicked one day. Chef had been teaching him how to shape new memories from old ones, and Malcolm realized he now had the power to make Gamlen's life horrible.

Every night he sent nightmare after nightmare, coming up with new fucked up ways to make Gamlen scream. One night he had Gamlen chased by ghouls, and couldn't resist playing the part of one of them as he ripped Gamlen to shreds, viciously devouring the meat from his bones. Another night, Malcolm decided to be part of a murder of crows that chased Gamlen and slowly pecked him to death. Malcolm had a lot of fun pretending to be a demonic wildcat chasing Gamlen through the woods, corralling the trees to crowd closer and closer together, until eventually the roots themselves wrapped around Gamlen and crushed him. It was music to Malcolm's ears hearing Gamlen scream endlessly, as Malcolm held him in suspension over a pit of spikes and let go. He dropped Gamlen into the chasm over and over, for hours and hours, impaling him on the spikes, watching him bleed out and then raising him up just to drop him again. One brutal night, he chopped of Gamlen's dick and threw him, still bleeding, into a pit of red ants and watched as they stung him alive, starting with the open wounds. Then, for good measure, Malcolm poured some flesh-eating beetles on top of him and watched as they dessicated him to bone. Malcolm found his creativity tested in new ways as he took out all his pain and frustration on Gamlen.

On this particular night he tied Gamlen over a fire spit, and was slowly roasting him alive like a stuck pig. Gamlen's skin was slowly starting to bubble and split under the heat and he groaned pitifully, begging for mercy. Malcolm couldn't find it in his heart to give it to him.

"Somniari, you've become no better than a demon at this point!" Chef swatted at Malcolm, but Malcolm just took the blows, ignoring Chef as he raptly watched Gamlen's contorted face in sick pleasure.

"You know what this asshole did. At least I haven't killed him for real." Malcolm snapped. It didn't help that Malcolm was so raw inside that he needed to hurt someone, anyone, and Gamlen made the most sense. He'd destroyed Leandra's reputation, ruined Carver's career, outed Malcolm so that now anonymity and escape was near impossible. Gamlen had always made Malcolm feel like he didn't deserve Leandra and, while Malcolm thought that was true, he still wanted Gamlen to pay tenfold for all the pain he caused.

"Compassion can't even come near with all your hostile energy! And Kindness will never grow at this rate!" Chef screamed in his pointed ear.

Malcolm snapped his head, eyes burning with fury. "Kindness and Compassion can fuck off! You want me to take pity on Gamlen?! After what he did to Leandra, he should be grateful that I'm being this merciful! He deserves to be dropped in the Void!"

That's when a malevolent laugh sounded in the air. Avarice appeared before Malcolm, her grin cruel and delighted. "My Somniari, I admit I'm impressed. I never knew you held such malice in your heart."

Malcolm's hands sparked with energy as he shifted into a fighting stance. "Fuck off, demon. I'm not in the mood."

Avarice smirked, caressing a long sharp nail over her purple lips. She floated aimlessly, her flame-like hair billowing on her head, swaying in a breeze that wasn't there. "But this looks so much fun. Do you mind if I join in?"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow in interest.

Chef waved his spindly arms. "Do not be tempted into more dark actions. You'll further corrupt the land!"

But a vile smile grew on Malcolm's face, his golden eyes sharpening. "Alright, demon. Let's see what you've got."

Avarice snickered in delight as she summoned a knife in her hand and then sliced a sliver off of Gamlen's singed arm. He howled in pain, rivulets of blood dribbling down and sizzling into the fire below. And then with a diabolical laugh, Avarice stuck the cooked sliver of meat into Gamlen's gaping mouth. She covered his mouth with her hand as he gagged, and forced him to swallow his own flesh.

Malcolm choked, almost throwing up. "Daaaaamn, that is so fucked up." He found his own cruel laugh sounding from the back of his throat despite his disgust.

Chef held his mouth in a gag. "I never knew taste could be so horrifying."

Avarice looked back at Malcolm, her smirk bloodthirsty. "You like? I have more where that came from."

Malcolm grinned back wickedly. "I'm listening…"

Chef pushed himself in front of Malcolm. "No, Somniari. Drive this demon away. She is a pawn of Zelophehad. This is an attempt to corrupt you."

Avarice placed an innocent hand on her bare breast. "I don't serve Zelophehad by choice. In fact, if you're interested, I may be of use to you. Surely you can use another ally, and it would be foolish to turn down someone with insider knowledge to his plans."

Malcolm snorted. "I don't need an ally like you."

Chef nodded resolutely. "That's right, Somniari. Well done."

"But what if I find myself in need of an ally? I'm sure I can find a way to make it worth it." Avarice sniffed sharply.

Malcolm crossed his arms. "Why would you need me as an ally?"

Avarice's expression turned sour. "Because I wish to break free from my Master's chains but cannot do it on my own." She gazed at Malcolm with a predatory sharp smile. "If you make a deal with me and grant me your protection, I offer you my power and the secrets to your enemy's downfall."

Malcolm cocked his head, almost considering it. "I don't know. I don't trust a demon's word."

Avarice smiled sharply. "Ask the Scholar spirit. If I make a contract with you, I cannot turn against you without destroying myself."

"My name is Chef, now," the red Spirit quivered angrily. "Just because she speaks the truth, does not mean you should do it, Somniari. We can beat Zelophehad without her."

Malcolm agreed with Chef. It was kind of scaring him how much he was getting along with this demon. Perhaps he was going too far. "Yeah, probably not the best idea to be trusting demons anyways."

Avarice's face fell, before a knowing smirk settled on her lips. "What if I throw in a bonus?" She gestured to the whimpering Gamlen. "I will curse the one that hurt your Bonded, that way he not only suffers in his dreams, but misfortune will always follow his footsteps."

Malcolm raised his head, the offer definitely enticing, but he pulled back. "I don't know. He's still Leandra's brother…"

Avarice smirked wider, pointing towards Malcolm with her long claws. "It is your curse. You set the conditions for it to break." Her words dripped with temptation. "Come, now. Do you not want him to learn his lesson for good?"

Malcolm smirked back. "Well, when you put it like that."

Chef yanked Malcolm's shoulder. "Somniari, do not do this!"

But Malcolm's eyes stayed on Gamlen, burning in hatred. "I'll take your deal. Curse Gamlen until he apologizes to Leandra and means it."

Avarice snapped her fingers. "Done." Some purple thorns wrapped around Gamlen's chest, caging his heart and sinking in deep. Gamlen yowled in pain, and then the thorns dug in and disappeared within him. At the same time Malcolm felt a dark power flooding him, gnarling and twisting within his mana. Avarice smiled sharply. "Now he will lose everything he ever gains. His avarice will consume him and his luck will forever turn sour until he learns from his arrogance."

"Good," Malcolm spat, feeling marginally better. "Make it painful."

Chef shivered as he hugged himself. "Somniari, what have you done?" He summoned some french fries. "Oh, I need to stress eat now." And then Chef started dumping the bag into his gaping mouth.

Avarice rose up to her full height, an eager grin on her lips. "Do not turn on me, Somniari, or you will regret it."

Malcolm raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Not going to be a problem as long as you keep your end of the bargain."

Avarice dragged her fingers down the front of her chest, crossing her heart. "My word is my bond."

Suddenly he felt his soul being dragged back into his body as something bright hit his eyelids. Malcolm groaned, knowing that nothing good was going to come of waking.

Chef sighed in relief, his mouth still stuffed of fries. "Good, now you can't torture this poor creature anymore."

Malcolm glared at Gamlen as he started to fade away, relishing in Gamlen's pitiful whimpers. "Until tonight," he promised.

When Malcolm opened his eyes, the blurry image of a blonde statuesque figure came into view above him.

Meredith smirked, her heel digging into his chest.

"You stink," she wrinkled her nose in an exaggerated fashion, kicking her heel off of him.

Malcolm gritted his teeth but didn't bother to reply, much too tired to give her the fight she was looking for.

Meredith walked around him, inspecting him closely. "Do you know how long you've been in here?"

Malcolm still didn't say anything. He just stared, hard eyes forward, jaw clenched.

"Thirty-five days." She squinted, a delighted smile on her pale lips. "I wouldn't be surprised if you've lost your ability to speak completely."

"I can speak," Malcolm grunted. He knew it was stupid to take the bait, but he couldn't let Meredith think she won.

Meredith smirked. "Your list of infractions are getting longer and longer… Sneaking out, assaulting a noble, corrupting a Lady, destroying a Templar's career… I'm surprised the Knight-Commander's considering letting you out at all," she tutted, narrowing her eyes. "You're walking on a tightrope, Hawke. Not going to take much to make you fall now."

Malcolm didn't say anything, but he didn't actually expect to ever be let out. He just needed to find the Hunger demon and then he could escape the Circle for good.

Meredith sighed bitterly. "Ah, but I guess it's not really up to me. We have rules." She spat the word disdainfully. "We already logged you in the system two weeks ago, and we maximized your time. And apparently the Knight-Commander actually cares about that kind of thing." Meredith leaned down to Malcolm's head, her breath ghosting his pointed ear. "But one little slip-up, any infraction at all and, believe me, back you go." She smirked sharply, patting his cheek. Malcolm's jaw and ears twitched as he willed himself not to move a muscle. "I'd thought I'd be charitable and give you a warning."

Then Meredith grabbed his shoulder and stood him up on his weak legs, shoving him out his cell. She marched him up through the dungeons and soon he was back in the Courtyard, where he saw the sun for the first time in ages. His eyes watered at the light, and he turned his head, tear-blinded. The sun felt good and his skin hungered for it. With his eyes closed, he let himself bask, as he willed himself not to cry in front of everyone.

Meredith shoved him so he stumbled. "Get in the showers and get ready for Mass. You don't have time to dawdle."

Malcolm snapped his head to glare, but winced at the harsh light blinding him. He quickly retreated back to the dorms, before Meredith could find more ways to torture him.

Everyone seemed so surprised to see Malcolm. Malcolm ignored them all and went straight to the showers and stayed under the warm water until the Templars forced him to leave. He got dressed in clean robes, relishing the freshness of laundered clothing on his washed skin. He didn't think he would be grateful to see his room again. He could relax a lot more now that his room was no longer was filled with things that Meredith would Tranquilize him for.

He wandered to breakfast, wondering what he should flavor his food today when a little voice squealed and a small figure careened into his legs.

"Malcolm! Malcolm! Malcolm!" Isaac screamed excitedly.

It was too much. The sound. The sudden touch. The fast movement. Before Malcolm could stop himself he snapped and shoved Isaac off him, saying, "Don't touch me!"

Isaac fell to the ground and then his lip quivered as he began to wail.

The sound grated Malcolm's ears but still he hunched in shame, aware that people were glaring at him. He knelt beside Isaac, and scooped him up into his arms. "I'm sorry, Lil' Dude. I didn't mean to do that."

Isaac didn't seem to hold any resentment. He just clung to Malcolm as he sobbed. "I missed you."

Malcolm's heart twisted. Isaac reminded him so much of Leandra. He didn't want to touch the boy. He didn't want to feel responsible for him, or wipe his snotty tears, or have anything to do with him anymore. But none of the pain Malcolm was in was Isaac's fault. Isaac had also lost everything. He only had Malcolm left. Malcolm couldn't just abandon him.

Malcolm ran his fingers through Isaac's soft hair as he held Isaac to his chest, the reminder of Leandra a shard in his already mangled heart. "I'm sorry, Isaac. I'm just… really, really grumpy."

Isaac pulled away and wiped his bubbling nose. "I'm grumpy, too."

Malcolm ruffled his hair, and picked him up so he was now standing on his feet. Malcolm stood up and tucked his hand in the boy's. "Maybe we're just hungry. Let's get some food, Lil' Dude."

Isaac sniffed heavily, and clung closer to Malcolm, refusing to leave his side as they got into line.

The chefs were getting lazier with their meal planning. For breakfast was oatmeal. Salty, garlicky oatmeal. Malcolm tried to make it taste sweet like cereal, but the salty flavor kept breaking through, so he settled for some fried rice instead. He kept washing down the dry taste with his milk, but it wasn't helping.

Malcolm had taught Isaac his taste spell, but it seemed like even he was having trouble flavoring his food to something he could swallow. He only took a couple of bites before he gave up on eating. That seemed to be the case with most of the mages, whose bowls were all barely touched.

Charlie and Taylor quickly joined them, their hands intertwined casually. Both of their eyes lit up when they saw Malcolm, and they quickly took the seats across from him.

"You're out!" Charlie breathed excitedly. "I thought they'd keep you down there forever."

"So did I," Malcolm replied bitterly. He thought he would get less of a stomach ache not eating the scrap leftover slop they served in solitary, but the chef's regular fare was hardly any better.

Taylor pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, whispering warily. "I've been watching Quentin like you said, and you're right. There's something weird about him."

Malcolm's eyes lifted to Taylor. He'd stalked Quentin's dreams for evidence of a connection with the abomination, but didn't find anything out of the ordinary. Quentin was definitely a deeply disturbed man with dark thoughts, but so far he was not involved with demons… yet.

Malcolm forced himself to take another bite in spite of overwhelming saltiness. "What did you find out?"

Taylor took out a notebook. "I put a tracking spell on him and he leaves the Circle almost every night. And the pattern has coincided with a death. I think this is too much of a coincidence." She showed Malcolm a series of dates and names of people who died.

Malcolm rolled his neck cracking it. "Alright, I'll check him out."

That's when Arth's disgusted snort sounded behind Malcolm. "I can't believe they actually let you out. Didn't you ruin Carver's career?"

Malcolm gripped his spoon but tried to ignore the noble mage's jabs. Malcolm already felt terrible about what happened to Carver. He should have never dragged him along that night.

"Not the time, Arth," Charlie warned from the other side of the table.

Isaac kicked his feet, happily drawing up beside Malcolm, and Malcolm chose to focus on Isaac.

Still Arth seemed intent on getting under Malcolm's skin. "Taylor, why the hell are you still hanging out with Hawke? Didn't this loser cheat on you?"

Taylor rolled her eyes and in a deadpan voice she said. "Oh, noooo. Malcolm, you cheating bastard. How could you do this to me?"

Malcolm snorted in laughter and couldn't resist joining in. He placed his hand on his chest in an exaggerated fashion and in an equally comedic voice he said, "But Taylor, how sorry I am! Won't you please take me back? I love you so, so much."

"Your love is not enough, Malcolm." Taylor sniffed indignantly, still speaking in monotone. "You can grovel a thousand hours, but you will never again have my heart."

Then Charlie, Malcolm, and Taylor broke down in laughter no longer able to keep up the charade. Isaac's giggles joined in, though he was not aware of the joke.

Arth scowled. "I don't see how this is very funny!" He then snarled. "We all saw those pictures. I don't know how Hawke managed to land the biggest slut in Kirkwall, but you're smarter than this Taylor."

Then Malcolm exploded like a bomb. He jumped up from the table and grabbed Arth by the collar, snarling, "What the fuck did you call Leandra!?"

Arth's green eyes went wide as Malcolm raised his fist to clock him, but Charlie dove over the table and seized Malcolm, pulling him back just before he could.

Isaac started wailing as Charlie grappled Malcolm from on top of the table, looping his arms around Malcolm's shoulders to try to keep him from swiping at Arth. "Dude, use your fucking head. You just got out of solitary!"

But Malcolm wasn't listening. He reached for Arth with murder in his eyes. "You better keep Leandra's name out your fucking mouth, Elliot! Or I'll fucking kill you, you hear me! I'll kill you!"

Arth backed away, the rest of the mages staring but keeping their distance from Malcolm, afraid that the Templars would come and 'calm' him down. "You see this!" Arth pointed, red-faced. "Hawke is a rabid dog and needs to be put down!"

"Leave us the fuck alone, Elliot!" Taylor walked around the table blocking Malcolm's view from Arth with her own body. She placed two hands on his chest, her hands humming with calming magic. "Malcolm, breathe," she commanded, meeting his eyes so all he could see was her. "Remember that Arth is nothing. Isaac is depending on you. And Charlie and I am, too."

Malcolm tried to focus on Taylor, his chest heaving up and down, but her magic was slowing his heart to a more steady rate. He glanced at Isaac blubbering beside him, cowering in fear. The guilt was an iron weight in his stomach. He forcibly swallowed down his anger though it was like swallowing fire.

"I'm calm," he breathed sharply, his nose flaring. "I'm fine, now." Charlie's grip started relaxing on his arms. Taylor backed away slightly. Malcolm looked around. Their breakfast was now scattered all over the table and they had made a mess of milk and oatmeal on the floor.

Suddenly a group of Templars came in with guns raised. "Alright what happened, here?" One of them with a gruff voice barked through his helmet.

Isaac's wails quickly turned to whimpers as he shivered in front of the Templars, and he hid behind Malcolm.

Arth pointed at Malcolm but Taylor quickly said, "Just boys being boys." She grinned nervously.

The Templars looked at Arth, Malcolm, and Charlie and then huffed. "Clean this up!" one snapped.

Malcolm collapsed in relief into the table, Isaac sniffling beside him. With a ragged sigh he grabbed the boy's head and held him to his chest, rubbing his soft brown hair as Isaac sobbed until his shoulders stopped shaking.

They cleaned up the mess and then it was time for Mass. The mages and Templars all gathered in the chapel, squeezing into the wide room.

Matthew's photo stood at the middle of the chapel in front of an urn of his ashes. No one was weeping for the loss of the Templar except his family. All of his colleagues looked bored and grim.

Sister Margaret's sour face led them all in prayer at the center, though none of the mages felt like delivering Matthew's soul. He had been a terror to so many of them.

Sister Margaret's greying hair was pinned in her tall white headdress, her robes extra fancy and ceremonial. Her skin was as pale as her clothes and gave her a washed-out look. "We weep for the loss of our brother. We weep for the loss of one of the Maker's sons. May He deliver this poor soul unto His side."

"Amen," came the chorus of voices, from everyone except for Malcolm.

Malcolm tried not to be restless during the funeral, but he wasn't used to being surrounded by people's auras anymore. He felt irritated and stifled, and he just wanted to go back to his room and relax. Malcolm found himself dozing off throughout the ceremony.

Isaac was keeping himself busy, drawing more pictures in his lap of himself and Malcolm. His foul mood was gone and a bright smile was on his face now that Malcolm was safe beside him. He kept showing Malcolm his drawings, and Malcolm would force himself to smile, but would put a warning finger over his lips as he motioned for the boy to pay attention.

The funeral dragged on and on. Templars came up to speak on Matthew's behalf. They emphasized his stellar record at keeping mages in check, which was code for him beating them in secret. His family came and talked about what a bright young boy he'd been, how dedicated he was to his service, and how they knew he was at the Maker's side. Malcolm couldn't withhold his eye rolls at the mother's weeping. Her obnoxious wailing was giving Malcolm a pounding headache.

It seemed like hours passed before the last Templar was done speaking and everyone was finally free to do what they wanted. Most people were eager to clear out, including Matthew's family, but Taylor made Charlie and Malcolm stay behind. Isaac wasn't eager to leave Malcolm, so he stuck to his side like flypaper.

Taylor brought the boys' heads in close, as Sister Margaret talked to some of the remaining Templars.

"Why the hell are we sticking around, Taylor? I want to go back to my room and sleep in a real bed," Malcolm muttered.

Taylor pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Because while we're here, we need to get some consecrated holy water and a pinch of a dead man's ashes and when else are we going to have the opportunity?"

Charlie's face went pale and Malcolm groaned. "Do we have to?" they both said at once.

Taylor scowled. "The Fell Grimoire says both are needed for the Forbidden One's ritual." She looked at Malcolm. "Can you create a distraction with your powers?"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "What kind of distraction?"

"I don't know, make the Templars see something and chase it. Clear everyone out of the room."

Malcolm sighed and closed his eyes. Technically he did have the power to do that, but it was annoying that Taylor knew now and was bossing him around. He dipped into the Fade, all the Templars bodies coming into view at a high angle, like little puppets he could control. They were all laid out like a map in his mind, their thoughts and intentions like a web before him.

He could see that most of the Templar's suspicions were already wired tightly. They were jumping at shadows, spooked by every noise. It didn't take much nudging to make those shadows bigger and more corporeal. He focused, creating the illusion of multiple shades in different areas of the Circle, having them veer off in different directions. Suddenly Malcolm could hear the all the Templars' walkie-talkies going off at once.

"We have Fade breaches in multiple parts of the Circle! We need all units to report ASAP!"

The Templars in the chapel straightened up and started rushing out to meet their squads. Sister Margaret quickly crossed her heart and knelt in front of the altar in prayer.

"Good job." Taylor patted Malcolm's shoulder. "Now, I'll distract the sister, and you two get the ingredients."

Charlie's face went white. "How?"

Taylor placed two empty vials in Malcolm's palm, whispering, "Use your heads." Then Taylor approached the praying sister and knelt beside her clasping her hands together. "May I join you?"

Sister Margaret nodded gratefully. "With your voice, child, maybe the Maker will hear us."

Isaac giggled and rushed off to go hide behind the curtains, following the rules of some new game he just invented.

Charlie grimaced. "I'll take care of Isaac. You get the stuff."

Malcolm nodded as Charlie chased after Isaac, but Isaac fled anytime Charlie got close, his giggles echoing throughout the chapel.

Malcolm weaved a subtle hex on the Chantry sister's mind as he approached Matthew's ashes, hearing Taylor and the sister intone the Chant together.

And so man lost his Heaven,

And brought Hell to the earth,

Maker Forgive Us. Maker Save Us.

We knew not what we did.

Malcolm gritted his teeth, with the vials in hand, moving carefully. He made sure he weaved his magic so the sister could only hear her own chant. Then he crept up to Matthew's urn and with a gag, he took a heavy pinch and placed them into the vial and put it into his pocket.

He glanced at the sister and Taylor, still singing away.

We repent our hearts of Sin,

We surrender our joy, our lives, our deaths.

It all belongs to you Our Maker,

Deliver us from suffering so we may be by Your Side.

Malcolm then crept slowly down to the alcove where the holy water was kept in a font and dipped the second vial in. The water was cool on his fingertips and had a certain energy that tingled on his skin.

Malcolm sighed in relief. Now all they had to do was get out of here.

"Wait Lil' Dude, don't-" Charlie's desperate voice cried out.

Malcolm heard something strange streaming from behind him, like liquid pouring out of a spigot really fast. When Malcolm turned around Isaac had pulled down his pants and was peeing in Matthew's ashes with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Malcolm's mouth dropped as everyone gaped in shock, Isaac's naughty delighted giggles bouncing off the stone walls.

Charlie pulled at his wavy brown hair, his face going slack. "Duuuuuuuude, this is not good."

Sister Margaret pulled herself at her full height, her face going red. "Young man, do you know what you've done?!"

Isaac stuck his tongue out, showing off the pinkness of his eye as he pulled down his bottom eyelid with one finger.

Malcolm threw his head back in a groan. Isaac had definitely learned all this watching him.

The boy laughed as the sister's face twisted up further in a glower.

"Once the Templars find out about this, you won't find it so funny, young man!" The sister stormed out of the room.

Taylor tried running after the sister, reaching for her but not quite touching her. "Wait, Sister, wait. He's just a boy. He doesn't understand what he's doing."

The sister picked up her skirts. "Well, he'll certainly learn after this, won't he? Templars! Teeeemplars!"

Isaac started to shiver in place, his brown face going pale as he realized he had made a grave error.

Malcolm rushed up and hiked the pants back up the boy's hips and buttoned him back up. Then he scooped him up in his arms and cradled his shivering form. "I'm not going to let them hurt you," he whispered. "Just follow my lead."

The boy trembled violently, clinging to Malcolm as he began to cry. Malcolm couldn't let Isaac be traumatized further, but he didn't know how to stop this. He didn't know what kind of punishment lay for Isaac now that he no longer was protected by his noble status.

A couple of Templars happened to be passing by on their way to the Courtyard, Meredith numbering among them. The sister motioned to Meredith. "Knight-Captain, you must come quickly. A mage has desecrated the holy ashes of a Templar!"

Meredith's eyes widened in outrage. "Who would dare?"

Meredith followed Sister Margaret back into the chapel and when she saw Malcolm, she went red. "I should have known it was you."

Sister Margaret reached for Meredith, "Actually, it was-"

"Yeah, I pissed in Matthew's ashes cause that dude was a major asswipe. Big whoop," Malcolm quickly interrupted, feeling Isaac flinch in his arms. Malcolm narrowed his eyes in a glare. "Fuck him! He deserved that and more!"

Meredith's face went murderous, her blue eyes going cold with rage. She pulled a taser off of her belt and sparked it threateningly. "You're going to regret this, Hawke." And then she stormed up to Malcolm with surprising speed and jabbed the taser into Malcolm's side.

Isaac screeched as he fell out of Malcolm's arms and they both tumbled to the ground. Malcolm twitched wildly, the vials in his pocket scattering to either side of him and spilling on the floor. Malcolm bit out a scream as all his muscles clenched tightly at once, seizing painfully. He couldn't move and he jerked as the electricity arced through his body.

Sister Margaret went as pale as her greying hair, and she covered her mouth in horror "Knight-Captain there's been a misunderstanding-"

"You've done your duty and reported the problem, Sister. I will handle it now." Meredith pulled the walkie-talkie off of her belt. "Have all the mages report to the Courtyard. We're due for a flogging."

"Now, Knight-Captain? We haven't secured the Circle for the rogue shades," Knight-Lieutenant Jiminez's voice responded.

"You only need a few men to gather the mages. The rest can continue their search," Meredith ordered with a sharp sniff.

Malcolm groaned pitifully on the ground as Isaac cried over him, trying to shake him awake. Taylor and Charlie stood frozen in place, helpless to do anything but watch.

Meredith grabbed Malcolm by his curls and yanked Malcolm's pointed ear to her mouth, ripping out some strands of hair as she did. "I'm going to enjoy this." Then she dragged Malcolm behind her, tugging him sharply so he slipped from Isaac's grasp.

Isaac shrieked Malcolm's name at the top of his lungs as Meredith tugged Malcolm towards the Courtyard and then threw him against the flogging post.

Malcolm smacked against the pole, grunting. He didn't fight as she cuffed him to the post and then, with her bare hands, Meredith tore a huge hole in his robes so the skin of his back was exposed.

Meredith slowly strolled to the supply closet behind Malcolm and rummaged through for a long pole with a banded whip, a bloodthirsty smile on her face.

It only took five minutes for the rest of the mages to gather at the Courtyard. They looked at each other with wide eyes as Malcolm was tied limply to the pole. Isaac wailed as Taylor shoved his face against her robe, trying to protect the boy from the sight.

Meredith snapped the whip at Isaac and Taylor, the sound cracking in the air like thunder. "Everyone watches! The boy will understand the consequences!"

Taylor's purple eyes glistened with tears, and with shaky hands she turned Isaac around to face Malcolm.

Malcolm couldn't bear to look at Isaac, to see his broken face. Isaac's screams of terror were daggers of agony in Malcolm's heart. He wished he could spare Isaac from seeing this, but Malcolm comforted himself knowing that at least it wasn't Isaac on the flogging post.

Meredith sneered. "This is the last prank you play on my watch, Hawke. Today I finally put you in your place."

Malcolm couldn't help the taunting laugh that came from him. "I'd like to see that, Stannard. I really would."

Pain lanced through Malcolm's back as the first lash licked him. He gritted his teeth, but didn't cry out. Instead he laughed again, the pain fueling his anger. "That's all you got, Stannard? Carver hit harder than that!"

"Oh, I'm going to break you," Meredith's nostrils flared.

She threw lash after lash with all her might. Malcolm flinched with each blow, but no matter how hard she hit him, Malcolm couldn't help the exhilarated laugh that came from his belly. He could feel it. The end was coming, and it was a welcome relief for his shattered mind. His laughter infuriated Meredith, and every blow became harder and harder, but still Malcolm laughed, rushing to meet that welcome relief of oblivion.

He could hear Isaac's heaving sobs, as the boy got on his hands and knees and begged Meredith to stop. This seemed to fuel Meredith's sick pleasure. Soon Malcolm's back had been ripped to ribbons. He was coughing up blood but Meredith still wouldn't stop her rampage.

Charlie and Taylor held hands as they both watched helplessly, their own tears streaking down their cheeks as they stood paralyzed in place.

Eventually Taylor could take no more, and she stepped forward. "It's been well over a hundred lashes! Enough!"

Meredith raised a fine blonde eyebrow. "Has it? I keep losing count."

Taylor clasped her hands together getting on her knees beside Isaac, her eyes wet and pleading. "Please, you'll kill him! Please, I beg you, stop!"

Meredith smirked viscously, wringing out some of Malcolm's blood from the knotted frayed ends. "Do you want to be next?"

Taylor cowered back as Charlie grabbed her protectively, their eyes unable to leave the whip, the blood dripping off it menacingly.

Malcolm coughed, turning Meredith's attention back to him. He couldn't let Meredith hurt Taylor even if he had to use his body as a shield. "I have to say you're a little too into this." Malcolm croaked, smirking with bloody teeth. "Must be your kink or something. Just admit to everyone you give me all this attention cause you have a big fat crush!"

Taylor couldn't blink back the tear blinding her and Malcolm watched it fall off her chin. "Malcolm…" She buried her head in Charlie's chest with a sob.

Meredith's eyes flashed with anger. She raised the whip again, this time with the hard end of the bar. "You think this is fun, do you? Huh?" Her teeth flashed in a malevolent smile. "Well, it's fun for me, too, Hawke."

Then Meredith marched up and swung the bar into Malcolm's back, cracking some ribs. Malcolm cried out, spitting out more blood. She hit him again and he could feel shards of bone digging into his gut. Malcolm could feel parts of his body go numb as he went into shock. Then she delivered a stunning blow to the back of his head, and he promptly passed out.

Malcolm floated, the pain in his body fading away in the cool brisk pond. He could feel Compassion's energy surrounding him, filling him with peace. He knew he was in the Fade, but he wasn't exactly conscious. There were faint voices singing soothingly, lulling him into a trance. Random images of Leandra's face kept flashing before his eyes. He thought he saw her cupping his face with a tear-filled gaze, begging him not to die, kissing his lips, whispering that she loved him and that she was sorry for everything. He could taste her faint strawberry flavor on his tongue, smell her heavenly jasmine scent, feel the warmth of her skin enveloping him.

"Well, done, Somniari," a new masculine voice sounded in his ears. It was very similar to Carver's, but also distinct, deeper and more alien.

Malcolm could see a sharp orange Spirit in burning armor so similar to a Templar's.

"My name is Protection. I have been birthed from your actions and will now guard you and your loved ones against Zelophehad."

Malcolm couldn't answer. Malcolm couldn't do anything. He was just existing, floating in a space, aware that time was passing, but it felt like centuries and seconds at once.

Eventually, ages later, Malcolm floated back down to his body. He was aware that there were bandages wrapped tightly around his head and chest and he was having a hard time breathing. He could hear the beep of the monitor as it beat with the sound of his heart. His eyes were wet, his head throbbing, his back stiff and itchy, but he was not in as much pain as he expected. He opened his eyes, his vision blurry, but he faintly recognized the slanting walls of the Circle's hospice, where he was tucked in bed. Three blobbish figures sat beside him.

"He's awake!" he heard Charlie say, his voice sounding far away.

A small figure crushed his chest. "Malcolm!" he heard Isaac cry, his voice cracking with sobs.

His lungs were crushed, the pain returning to him, but he was soon able to breathe again as someone pulled Isaac off of him.

"Be careful, hon. He's still very hurt." That voice could only be Taylor.

Malcolm's vision started to come back in pieces. First color started filling in, and then the blurry images slowly started to sharpen. He saw Charlie, Taylor, and Isaac crowding him, happy tears in their eyes.

"Hey," Malcolm said weakly. He was unable to say more.

Taylor hushed him, stroking his curls off of his forehead. "Ssshhh, Malcolm. Don't strain yourself. You need to rest."

Malcolm nodded faintly. He sluggishly moved to grab Taylor's hand and squeeze it but when he looked at his wrist, he froze.

His heart thudded in his ears as he brought his limp wrist up to his eyes, unsure if this was another hallucination, or a trick of the Fade. It had to be, because Leandra's ribbon was back, proudly tied around him.

His eyes filled up in tears. "Was Leandra here?" he whispered.

Charlie and Taylor shared a knowing grin. "Yeah," Charlie chuckled. "We met her."

Taylor patted Malcolm's arm, a serene smile on her face. "She heard what happened to you, and now she's taking Meredith and the Circle to court for civil rights abuses."

Charlie grinned ecstatically. "There's a class action lawsuit. It's kind of insane. The Templars are scared shitless."

Malcolm didn't care about any of that. All he heard was that Leandra was back.

And Malcolm began to hope again.