*4.1.21: retyped edited to fix mistakes, update writing style, and add to the story.*

aaah i meant to put this in earlier, but warning for gore (just a bit?)

Part VII

"This is it."

Fists flexing at his sides, Fenris glared at the cave entrance, prepared to pull the sword from his back should the need arise.

Hadriana...

His bare toes curled into the sand, the simple thought of the name conjuring a flash of an icy blue gaze in his mind's eye. He could recall the cruelty, the vicious glee as she taunted and tormented him time after time glinting in her eyes with such vivid ease, as if they were made of steel itself.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel the slightest amount of the very same glee at the thought of repaying Hadriana for her… hospitality, during all those years.

Lips curling, Fenris moved with intent as he stalked towards the entry — he'd only taken three steps forward before someone was calling him back.

"Wait a second, Fenris."

Hawke's call was a quiet one, but questioning and insistent all the same. It had him pausing, stride faltering before coming to a complete stop, only the slight turn of his head an indication that he had heard her request.

He understood what Hawke was too kind to say out loud. To storm in blind would be a foolish and baseless risk, he knew — he should know. His friends accompanied him willingly, and it would be a disservice to let his anger and desire for recompense cloud his judgement and not let them know what could await them inside.

Fenris exhaled, slow and steady, the air passing through his teeth with a soft, audible hiss.

"We must be careful," he announced after a brief moment, his gaze still fixed hard on the entrance. "These caves were designed to protect against raids by fellow slavers. No doubt it is why Hadriana had chosen them in the first place."

At last, he looked over his shoulder, taking in each of his friend's faces: Hawke's carefully blank expression; Isabela's uncharacteristically serious; Varric's watchful gaze.

He could detect neither protest nor reluctance for the fight he was about to lead them into, and he felt indebted to them for that fact alone.

Perhaps this is a sign, Fenris thought, turning back to the caves where just inside, one of his lifelong tormenter's awaited her sentence. For Hadriana to come… Does this mean Danarius is not far behind?

If so, this would also be a test. To face Hadriana and win would mean he was that much closer for when he faced him again, finishing this once and for all. It meant he'd be that much closer to being ready to do so.

Stepping up to his side, Hawke nodded and gestured towards the caves. "Hadriana won't escape us," the mage swore to him, and the small encouraging smile she gave him exuded a quiet confidence that helped to settle the nerves building in his belly. Though not by much, Fenris breathed easier at the sight of it, her easy reassurance, her loyalty, somewhat a balm on his fraying temper. "We'll follow your lead, Fenris."

He was not alone. He would not face Hadriana alone.

He only wished…

A small pale hand covering his; calloused fingers a reassuring presence as they brushed against his skin, a gentle pressure as they squeezed. Blue eyes glowing warmly in the firelight. Pale pink lips curling in a soft, sure smile. "One day you'll face them again. And when that day comes, you won't be alone. I promise you, Fenris."

In a way, she was still right. He had Hawke and Isabela and Varric all standing alongside him. But all the same, he wished she was standing right here next to him as well.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself this brief moment to imagine it — she would step up to stand by his side, opposite of Hawke. She would… she would press her arm against his, a sign of her silent comfort and assurance, knowing the nerves he was hiding behind his anger.

She would lean in, murmur quietly close to his ear, close enough for him to catch a whiff of the wash she used for her hair — and if he thought hard enough, he could recall the faintest notes of the aroma: fresh and flowery.

(He remembered how he would often catch the scent of it, how often they found themselves in such close quarters that he would, and his heart clenched at his inability to remember the scent in full.)

"We're here with you," Kagome would have said, had she the chance, "I'm here."

For the fact that she couldn't, he would be sure to repay Hadriana as well.

But for now, Fenris returned Hawke's nod with a grateful one of his own and started for the entrance once more. "Let's hope this isn't a waste of time…"

If she had the time, the opportunity to, and it wouldn't get her killed — Kagome would laugh at how quickly things had turned to shit.

Upon stepping into the caves, it became obvious they weren't the usual tunnels she'd ventured into before. Not only man made, these caves were advanced, structured.

Paved walkways along channels of molten rock and stone doors rigged with sophisticated locks and hinges, statues lining the halls — all not unlike in the deep roads. Dwarven architecture engineered with Tevinter style in mind. And caves such as these meant the traps were just as advanced. It would be pressure plates she'd need to keep an eye out for here, not only tripwires. Even the doors could be rigged.

The entrance hall was empty of any guards or slavers; only a door at the opposite end greeted her, and upon further inspection, there was another short hall branching off to the left with a door at its end as well. She took the one closest to her, the latter — was intent on slipping through and keeping to the shadows as long as she possibly could.

When the door locked automatically behind her the moment it shut, however, it was then that Kagome felt uneasy, that this was only the first of a long line of many things that would turn bad.

Still, she forged on towards the next room.

Two guards waited for her inside. Both were human: a woman in dark heavy plate armor with a sword at her side and a shield on her back and a man in leathers, daggers at his hips and strapped across his chest. Both wore the insignia she recognized as belonging to a band of renowned slave hunters. Neither were facing in her direction, backs turned her way as they chattered quietly amongst each other, but blocked the only other way out of the room.

Silently, Kagome reached up over her shoulder. Her fingers found purchase around the shaft of an arrow, making zero noise as she slid it out of her quiver and nocked it, raising her bow and pulling the bowstring taut.

The only noise she made was the whistle of the arrow upon release. The man was the first to die, her arrow neatly severing his spine at the back of the neck. He collapsed where he stood with a gurgled shout, the woman the next to fall before he'd even hit the ground.

Closing her eyes, Kagome gave a shuddering exhale, lowering her bow. The next moment, she was striding across the room towards the door.

Not once did she glance at the two she'd killed with barely a breath of hesitation.

The next room was empty, with only a few pressure plates to obstruct her path. Each took a couple of minutes to disable, each trap taking less time than the last. It was past the door after that which posed a greater problem — as half a dozen of walking undead and a mage patrolled the corridor leading into the next room.

They caught sight of her immediately, hands bringing up their weapons.

"Shit."

"Everything all right there, Broody?"

Varric's voice had Fenris pausing in his pacing. While left waiting for Hawke and Isabela to finish looting the corpses for the key into the next room, the dwarf was content to remain where he stood, relaxing against a column as he watched the elf attempt to wear a hole in the ground.

"Do you truly expect an answer other than 'no'?" Fenris wondered, genuinely curious.

After all, they were in a cave that potentially held the apprentice of his once-master, as well as all the hunters and slaves she bought at her side, after said apprentice had launched an ambush in an attempt to capture and drag him back to Tevinter.

Varric only shrugged, mouth quirking wryly. "I was hoping you'd surprise me. Guess not." He straightened his posture, pushing off the column to draw nearer. His voice dropped then, lower and somber as he added, "But more seriously, I don't quite like that look on your face; the murderous, angry part — that's fine, all par the course. It's the touch of confusion that's worrying me."

"It's just…" The warrior trailed off, eyeing the dead slavers lying feet away. His shoulders slumped, unable to keep the thoughts that had been bugging him to himself any longer, "I expected… more," he murmured, pensive. He reached up to thumb at the bridge of his nose. "More resistance, and stronger at that."

"Hey!" Isabela shot straight up and turned to face him, one hand curled on her hip and the other holding a small pouch — of pebbles, most likely — and wagging a finger in his direction. "Maybe we're just that good!"

Fenris snorted, eyes rolling. Could it be so? The thought had occurred to him, but it seemed presumptuous and arrogant; that, after all these years and all the hunters he had cut down, Hadriana would not be foolish enough to mount an ambush so… meager and halfhearted as it seemed to be.

"Perhaps," he eventually allowed, shaking his head.

He wasn't entirely convinced, however. Maybe with the others fighting alongside him, it wasn't as difficult as he had first expected it to be. But it should not be this easy.

Something, whatever it was, felt off…

Sneaking in was all well and good, but Kagome eventually ran into the minor issue with keeping to the plan the moment she stepped into a room full of what looked to be a dozen slaves, nearly half of them already dead.

Those that remained were huddled together, down on their knees and clutching hands, their fear apparent in the width of their eyes and the trembles rocking their bodies. One of them, a young girl barely into her adult years, if even, had her clasped hands pressed against her chest, crying out just as an unseen force dragged another elf — this one an older male — up into the air.

Kagome's stomach turned at the unnatural sight he made: back bent in a sharp arch backwards, head thrown back and mouth tore open in a silent scream, eyes blown wide and bloodshot, streaming with tears.

There was an ominous aura clouding the room, familiar and murky. Though all magic had its own aura that reminded Kagome of… of ozone, in a way — sharp, somewhat metallic, and dangerous — each type also possessed its own unique signature distinguishing between them.

Blood magic in particular had a darker, headier feel to it, often tinged with hints of a sinister nature — a reflection of the caster's intent and the source fueling their power: a demon.

Kagome's skin prickled upon recognition of the magic, this particular brand of casting sending the fine hairs along the nape of her neck rising in turn.

Blood sacrifice.

Across the room, the girl from before crawled forward on her knees, bowing so low her body pressed flat to the ground, sobbing out a plea just as red mist swirled around the man held captive in the spell. Though she spoke in Tevene, Kagome understood one word well enough.

Father.

A pink barrier wide enough to encompass those that still live materialized. At the same time, an arrow shot across the room into the throat of the nearest slaver. They went down with a thud just as the elf suspended in midair was released from the spell, startled gasps and outraged shouts rippling through them all as another slaver dropped, two arrows to the chest.

"What?!" came a furious screech, though from whom Kagome couldn't be certain — the surrounding ground began to boil and smoke before she could take down another slaver, clouding the air as demons surged from the floor. "They're here already?! Retreat! Retreat! I do not have enough!"

From behind the demons, Kagome could pick out a small group of people disappearing through another door on the opposite side of the room. Only a couple of fighters and a single mage were left behind to stop her.

They? Kagome first thought, only for a chill of dread to race down her spine a beat later as she realized:

There are more slaves.

Panic fueling her movements, Kagome took her bow and sliced at the air towards the demons — bright arcs of purifying energy pulsed from her weapon, decimating the summoned creatures within seconds. The attack left her panting, feeling the steep drain of energy it had cost her.

But the move worked to her advantage; the slavers left behind staggered to a halt in their shock, never having seen such a thing before. Kagome took out the warrior with a few well-placed arrows thanks to the distraction, but it spurred the rogue and mage back into action, forcing her to trade her bow for her daggers.

Dispatching them took longer than Kagome liked, and she fretted to think what the time had cost — how many more lives they would sacrifice before she could get to them.

Sheathing her blades, Kagome approached the remaining captives with a brisk stride, a limp to her step courtesy of the rogue slipping through her guard earlier. Most of her injuries since then had been shallow cuts save for a few, but the other woman had got a hit on the outer thigh of her left leg that was deep enough to be debilitating if left untreated.

By the feel of it, the one poultice she had left would likely only heal it partially, but it would have to do. So long as it didn't hinder her ability to fight, she could push past the pain.

Pushing the hood of her cloak from her face, Kagome allowed her barrier to fall as she drew up to the captives. The energy sustaining the barrier began to trickle back to her, and she exhaled a soft sigh in relief, trying to ignore the half a dozen pairs of eyes boring into her in varying levels of fear and apprehension.

Only one held no such hesitation at her presence.

"T-thank you!" wept the young Elven girl from earlier as Kagome paused before them. She was clutching at her father, the man that had been just a few seconds shy of becoming a blood sacrifice, having dragged him into her lap. Her trembling hands fisted into his rough clothes, as if she was afraid to let him go lest he be torn away from her. "Thank you, thank you!"

Said man was damp with a heavy sheen of sweat, chest shaking with labored, unsteady breaths, but otherwise looked alive and unharmed. But blood mage sacrifices, Kagome knew, begun with internal damage.

"Y-you saved Papa," the girl whimpered with shuddering breaths, shifting her round, wet gaze over to what fate had awaited her father had Kagome not stepped in, in time. "He-he would've-he would've been—" She broke off, her face gone ashen as she tore her eyes away, unable to look any longer.

Kagome followed her gaze and nearly gagged at the sight which greeted her, swallowing back the revulsion and bile it threatened to bring with it.

She had seen it upon first entering the room, body piled upon body, enough to create a small mountain of empty flesh. But she hadn't been close enough to see the details: the empty eyes, the tangled limbs, cuts so jagged and carved deep into the flesh and even bone that viscera had actually spilled out onto the stone floor.

Emptied of the blood necessary for the sacrifices, the bodies had been tossed aside and left in a pile like refuse, and the sight of it made Kagome burn with equal parts disgust and fury.

"I-I don't know why Mistress did this, we tried to be good!" The blatant dismay, the hurt and confusion in the young girl's voice had Kagome's eyes turning away from the dead only to find round, wide watery green eyes boring straight back into her. "We did everything we were told! But…" The elf's thin frame gave a full-bodied shudder, her head dropping, shaking side to side repeatedly as she cried softly, "Why…"

Though only barely, Kagome felt some of her fury ebb, sympathy rising in its place. "Oh, sweetheart…" she whispered, her voice somber. Her heart clenched something fierce, had her digging into her pockets and fishing out a small cloth as she kneeled next to the girl, barely wincing as her thigh throbbed sharply. Gently, cautiously placing a hand on the girl's shoulder, Kagome waited as the girl tensed for a brief moment, wide eyes peeking up at her through fair eyelashes, before reaching up with the cloth and cleaning her tear-stained face with gentle dabs.

"It's not your fault, alright?" she told the girl, voice firm, and moved her hand from the girl's face to cover one of her hands, giving her a comforting squeeze. "You did nothing wrong."

Eyes wide, the girl sniffed as she stared back at Kagome in silent disbelief, her mouth trembling, and though she didn't nod, her tears had subsided. Turning, Kagome took in the rest of the captives that had crowded around them while she was distracted.

Most wore the similar plain clothing of ill-fitting tunics and trousers, but the girl, her father, and another older Elven woman were dressed a little better, and were cleaner as well. The majority were elves, but a lone human woman completed the group. "Are… are all of you slaves?" Kagome quietly asked with apprehension, bringing her pack over to her front to begin digging into it.

All save the girl and another elf, a woman perhaps only a few decades older with pale brown hair streaked with silvers and the same one she had noticed was cleaner and dressed a little, shook their heads.

"Gods…" Kagome muttered under her breath. Carefully, she pulled out three health potions — the remains of her stores. There was no time to heal the girl's father with more still in danger, but the potions would heal the damage just as well. "Alright," she said, turning back to the girl. "I can't stay, but I will come back, okay? There... There are others that need help, I think."

Gently, she pressed all but one vial into the girl's hand, preserving the last for herself, knowing she'd likely need it soon. "Give this to him and he should be fine," she instructed. She gave the girl's hand one last squeeze before climbing back onto her feet, slipping her own vial into the pouch at her hip before reaching back into her pack for her last health poultice and a couple long strips of cloth.

The girl gave a hasty nod, thanking Kagome profusely before doing so. As she did, Kagome made quick work of taking care of her own injury, shucking off the blood from her wound before pouring the mixture straight into it.

It drew a hiss from her, the poultice stinging sharply as the healing took effect. After a moment, Kagome checked it once the sensation had settled, clicking her tongue in irritation when she found it didn't heal as much as she thought it would.

Shifting, Kagome tested her weight on her leg before she sighed and began wrapping it with the clean strip of cloth. It didn't hurt as much at least, and what with the current predicament she'd put herself in, she knew to count her blessings when they came.

"Will you be our new master?" the older Elven woman, the one who was also a slave, interrupted with a tentative, raspy whisper just as Kagome finished tying up the bandage.

"No," Kagome said with a quick but firm shake of her head. She readjusted her pack before taking up her bow once more. "You guys are all free now. You can leave now if you want, but the way I came through is blocked, and I can't assure you that the other way, wherever it is, is safe," she said, glancing over at the only door still shut in the room. "If you do decide to wait I'll be sure to escort you all to Kirkwall, the nearest city, and we can figure things out from there."

"You're going after them alone?" another voice interjected, incredulous. It belonged to a young Elven man, all skin and bones with light blond hair and an expression to match the incredulity in his voice.

Kagome nodded shortly. The boy couldn't be older than twenty, just like the young girl, and that he was this close to becoming a slave rekindled her anger. "You heard that woman — there are others like you, aren't there?"

The blond shook his head with sharp jerks, staring at her like she'd gone insane — or had a death wish. "Yes, but… these, these people, they're strong. That magister," and he spat that word with profuse vitriol, "You should have seen her and the other mages bleed everyone else for-for power! All because she thought someone was coming after them! Going after them alone is-it's insane! And stupid! You'll die for sure!"

Kagome went still. "Wait, someone?" she repeated, thrown. She remembered earlier what the woman had said, "They're here." 'They'. But who would…

Kagome's breath hitched, heartbeat skipping a long beat as hope caught fire in her chest.

Fenris…?

Confused, Kagome shook her head, glancing about the rest of the captives. "D-did any of you guys happen to see another Elven man, one they might have brought in today?" she asked hastily, fighting to remain calm. Did this mean the ambush she'd overheard those two men talking about earlier had failed and Fenris remained free? "He has white hair, he'd… he'd be in armor, probably hurt and tied up?"

When the answer she received was no, Kagome couldn't help the rush of relief washing over her. That meant Fenris at least would be safe, especially once she dealt with this magister.

But the others…

Maybe it is stupid. Hell, coming into these caves was a horrible idea from the start. But I saved you guys, and if it means I can save a few more people from becoming slaves, or even worse, sacrifices… Then screw it. I'll do it.

Someone has to.

The thought sobering her, Kagome steeled herself and reached back into her quiver to withdraw an arrow, quietly telling the others to be careful and stay safe.

Just three more to go, at least.

She was tired, and aching, and had only so much energy left to fight against magic and demons. But. If she was smart about it, she might just scrape through this alive and with all her limbs accounted for.

When it looked like the blond elf was about to protest once more, Kagome stopped him before he could start by raising her palm out. "I can't just leave them to die, not if I can help it," she told him softly, watched as his face fell and gave way to shock, and then left in the direction the magister and the two other slavers had gone.

She was not done fighting just yet.

"It's quiet," Fenris heard Varric mutter as the dwarf worked on disarming the trap barring their way through the exit. Room after room they'd cleared, bringing them all the closer to Hadriana, and with each one Fenris felt further vindicated in the growing sense of wrongness biting at his heels. Now, he wasn't the only one to feel it. "Too quiet. I don't like this."

"What's not to like? Fewer people for us to cut through. I'm all for less work!" Isabela cut in as she sauntered over to join them, finished with the usual round of looting. Hawke followed, trailing behind her as her eyes scanned the room.

"It's more how there's less work that concerns me," Varric insisted, pausing in disabling the trap to shoot them a pointed look from over his shoulder. "That's two rooms we've come though only to find they'd been cleared for us now? Something's up."

Isabela pinched her lips together. "Maybe their demons turned on them?" she tried, sounding disconcerted, "Or they disturbed some undead? It's happened before."

"Sure," came Hawke's flippant reply, at odds with the grim quality of her voice, "It's possible. Except there aren't any signs of either surviving."

"And it doesn't explain why the corpses left behind all had arrows in them," Fenris griped.

"I know that," Isabela bit out, coming to a stop before them. She crossed her arms as she did, boots landing harsh against the stone floor. "Balls. You guys just can't let a girl hope, can you?" She shuffled between each foot, shooting them a searching glance. "So, what then? We're thinking an ally?"

Fenris snorted, not so optimistic. "Someone trying to steal the slaves more like, as I mentioned before."

"We'll find out soon," Hawke murmured, just as the click of a trap disabling sounded out.

Varric straightened, dusting off his hands and knees before gesturing to the door. "Warriors first."

Rolling his eyes, Fenris stalked forward and shouldered the door open, sword in hand. It led them into a small, interconnecting chamber with doors on each side and him almost walking face first into a fireball if not for Hawke's barrier blocking the spell.

Spitting a low curse, Fenris's markings lit up as he phased through the barrier and the lingering flames to run down the slaver closest to him — a rogue and a startled one at that upon seeing the blade impaled through his gut so suddenly one second before the life flickered out from his eyes the next.

A short grunt and Fenris yanked the sword out, turning to the remaining slaver: the mage, as fortune would have it.

One look at Fenris's face and the feral grin he wore, however, had the woman throwing up a barrier and turning tail. She made her escape through the door closest to her, Fenris following on her heels with a snarl as the others gave chase from behind. They followed the woman down a short hall into another chamber connected to it. Alarmed shouts ranged out from the other side, and Fenris's heartbeat quickened along with his footsteps.

They entered the chamber just in time to see three elves and a human dressed in the usual garb of a slave backed up against a wall, with another two doing their best to drag an unconscious Elven man away from the mage.

The mage herself had her hand lifted in the air, palm out towards them, a thick mist of dark scarlet gathering and swirling around her arm.

The youngest of the three elves, a girl in her teens, was scarcely even lifted from the ground before a bolt had found its home in the back of the mage's head, sending her dropping like a stone to the ground below.

Fenris glanced back at Varric to see him giving a grim nod. He allowed himself a single shuddering exhale in relief before his feet carried him towards the two elves now collapsed on the ground, crowding around the unconscious third. "Are you alright?" he quickly asked, looking them over, "Are any of you hurt?"

Pale and sweating, they both shook their heads no.

"You're here to help?" the young, blond elf kneeling beside the girl demanded, dark blue eyes wide and round and tight with tension. When Fenris nodded, he nearly sagged in relief, the others by the wall following suit. "Thank fucking Andraste…

The sole human of the group stepped up, thin fingers feebly clutching at the hem of her shirt. "Is… is the way clear? To leave?" Tears built up in her eyes, a whimper escaping through her trembling lips, "I just want to go home…"

"You mean you aren't slaves?" Hawke asked gently, her confusion audible through her tone. The woman gave a tremulous shake of her head.

The young Elven man closest to them, the blond, snorted harshly. "Only Orana here," he said, gesturing to the girl beside him — the one who'd almost became a blood sacrifice, "Her father, and Dera back there," he nodded then, first at the man whose tunic Orana's small, shaking hands clutched at as if a lifeline, and then to an older Elven woman who watched them in wary silence, "Are slaves. The rest of us, along with most of the others, were only captured or tricked into being sold just recently," he explained, spitting that last part with a vicious anger coloring his tone and clouding his face.

"Ilen…" one of the other elves standing against the wall whispered, "It's over," and the blond turned slightly. After a moment, Ilen pursed his lips, eyes falling to the ground as he conceded with a shrug.

"Yeah, yeah," Ilen muttered under his breath, fury ebbing away, "I know."

"Well," Varric chimed in, breaking the somber tension, "If you guys wanna head out, don't let us stop you." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the door they'd just come through. "Just follow the trail of dead bodies and you ought to be set."

It seemed to be exactly what they were waiting for as all but Orana, her father, Dera, and Illen had made their escape; the rest exclaimed their thanks and praises to them and the Maker as they rushed out, eager to leave this place and their close brush with slavery behind.

Hawke let out a soft sigh, a grimace twisting her mouth for a brief moment before she shook her head and turned to the others that remained. "The magister, is she still here?"

Dera, who had moved away from the wall to join Orana and her father as the others left, nodded. "She ought to be," she murmured, voice such a low rasp even Fenris strained to hear her. "If nothing else, the other woman that had come by should have waylaid her."

Fenris and the others went still. "Woman?" Hawke parroted, eyebrows raising, "So there was someone else here."

A sniffle sounded from Orana, finally breaking her silence. "S-she saved Papa," she murmured, still trembling. Her hands fisted her father's tunic even tighter, bony shoulders hunching in on themselves. "Mistress-she was about to-about to—" Orana broke off with a shudder, unable to say it aloud, and shook her head with rapid jerks from side to side. "She came in just as Mistress was about to bleed Papa, scared them all off. We — we would've been next…" she realized just then, swallowing thickly. "We, we did nothing wrong, we were good! I just don't…"

His fingers curling, Fenris clenched his hands, teeth grinding so fiercely that his molars began to ache. He shouldn't be surprised — he shouldn't. He knew only too well that it mattered not whether a slave did right or wrong — they were slaves; they lived only at the mercy of their master's will, and when their life proved more useful for another purpose, for power, their master wouldn't hesitate to demand the sacrifice.

And yet, to hear this girl cry with despair in the face of her mistress's callous treatment… His blood roared in his ears.

"The magister was," Dera said after a moment, rubbing a comforting hand over Orana's back and shushing her softly when she made a small, wounded noise, "Is, frightened." She peered up at them with solemn dark eyes. "Especially when the woman interrupted the ritual. Whoever the magister believes is coming after her, she does not believe she is strong enough to face them without…"

Fenris's gaze fell to the ground as Dera's voice trailed off into meaningful silence. He clenched his eyes shut against the wave of guilt that washed over him. He knew he wasn't at fault — it was not his blade cutting into the flesh of these slaves, nor his magic draining their lifeblood from their veins, and yet—

It was him — Hadriana was preparing for him.

"She went after them alone," Illen harshly cut in, and Fenris forced his eyes open to see the young man looking up at them with eyes ablaze. "I told her it was stupid! Her against that-that bitch and her men?" He scoffed, harsh and bitter and… a loathing that seemed pointed more at himself than the woman who first saved him. "But she insisted — said that the other captives and slaves were still in danger and she couldn't… couldn't just let them die." Illen deflated then, defeat carving deep lines around his scowl. "So she gave Orana's father almost all her potions and told us to wait until she returned to escort us back…"

Fists clenching at his sides, Illen shot them all a beseeching look, "Please, you guys look strong. You're armed and there's four of you — you can help her before she gets herself killed!" With a heavy exhale, Illen's gaze fell to the ground then, shaking his head as he quietly murmured, "I'd… I'd like to help, to say thanks, but…" He gave a frustrated shrug.

"Don't worry about it," Hawke's voice was kind as she reassured him, "We'll take care of it. You guys should get out of here too, just in case."

"But — but where?" Orana whispered, "Where can we go?" She cast a searching look between the four of them, pale green eyes wide and imploring, tremulous as they moved from one to another. "I can cook," she hastened to offer, "A-and clean, and Papa! He's a much better cook than me, he can even bake! Dera's very good at gardening! Please, I don't…" She faltered, gaze falling, lithe fingers going still, tangled in her father's tunic. Her voice dropped to a tiny, vulnerable whisper, "I don't know what else we can do…"

Hawke bit deep into her bottom lip, rolling on the balls of her heels and sharing a look with the others — the only advice any of them able to give being a helpless shrug — before she released a heavy sigh. "Look," Hawke murmured, stepping forward, "How about this. If you guys go to Kirkwall, I can help you out."

Fenris felt his neck crack, his head snapped over so fast.

Orana seemed to sag in relief, even Dera felt the same, eyes fluttering shut. "You will?" the former sniffled, "Oh, thank the Maker…"

Fenris, on the other hand, did not share the girl's sentiment. He pivoted on his heel, whirling on the mage with a growl, "I didn't know you were in the market for slaves, Hawke."

Hawke reared back to look at him as if he'd grown another head. He managed to catch a glimpse of hurt in her grey eyes before she lifted her chin and matched his glare with a stare fixed squarely back at him.

From behind her, Varric palmed his face, head shaking. Isabela cocked an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed. But it was Hawke's voice that resonated most with him, slow and soft and couched with disappointment, a tone he'd heard few times before and still it cut into him with ease as she spoke in it towards him.

"I'm offering them a job, Fenris."

His eyes went wide before they quickly shut.

Damn.

"I…" Words failed him then, the shame hot against his cheeks also burning away whatever reply he'd had prepared, any excuse he'd thought to give eviscerated, because they'd be only just that — mere excuses. It was his temper that had gotten the best of him, that had him jumping to conclusions when he should have paused and gave thought, and nothing else.

Hawke of all people was undeserving of such an accusation.

"I see," Fenris demurred, his gaze straying to the ground.

Hawke sighed, a small, sad sort of sound, the whisper-shuffle of her booted feet scuffing against the ground for a moment before she spoke again. This time, her voice was softer and weary, and with that he knew she was letting him off the hook. A kindness, he knew, that he did not deserve.

"We should keep moving."

Fenris nodded but said nothing, following her and the others as they crossed the room.

Just before they could reach the door, however, Illen called out to them.

"Wait!" They turned and found Illen staring directly at Fenris. Said man's brows drew together, taken aback. "The… the woman who helped us? She came looking for someone, I think; asked if we've seen an elf — a man with white hair and wearing armor. She thought the Magister had captured him. Maybe it's nothing, but..." The young man shrugged, gaze flickering first to Fenris's hair and then over his armor. "You're the first white-haired, armored elf I've seen all week."

Fenris felt it as the others turned their stares on to him, but they were the furthest thing on his mind. The fine hairs rose at the nape of his neck, something deep in his gut twisting. His heartbeat tripped, hastening in speed.

Hope. Stupid, naïve hope. Fenris shoved it down and smothered it, but still—

"This woman—" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, his heart near on their tail and lodged in his throat, feet having already taken a few steps towards Illen. "What did she look like?"

"Uh, human," Illen stammered, visibly taken aback by the hoarse demand. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, eyes dropping away in thought. "... Short. Dark hair and light eyes, blue? I think?" he thought aloud, before nodding his head, assured. He met Fenris's gaze once again. "She carried a bow."

Fenris's breath caught.

A bow.

He already knew this woman, whoever she was, carried a bow — she'd left such evidence in the many bodies which greeted them instead of enemy slavers who would bar their way further into the caves.

And yet to hear it, knowing the same woman searched for him...

"She didn't give her name?" he heard himself murmur over the roar of his pounding heart between his ears and faintly registered the boy shaking his head.

"No. As soon as she checked on Orana's father, she was pressed to leave."

Fenris barely muttered a thank you before he was spinning on his heel and stalking through the door.

It was just as Kagome thought.

By the time she'd caught up to the magister, it was too late to prevent further deaths. Waylaid by the woman's remaining men, two rogue-assassins and the few undead she'd left to delay Kagome, the mage was already well into sacrificing her third victim. Kagome had burst into the room just as the drained body crumpled to the ground, a wretched feeling tearing itself through her chest at the realization.

Damn it. Kagome threw up a barrier to cover those that remained, cursing silently as tears prickled at her eyes. Too late. Damn it.

The magister whipped around to face her, but what she saw, or who rather, clearly wasn't what she expected. If anything, she seemed too… pleased. Relieved, even.

The sight of it was infuriating.

"Oh?" the magister drawled, painted lips slowly curling into a cruel smirk, "Now what do we have here…" Soft footfalls echoed as the woman stalked towards the weary miko. "A little lost lamb separated from her herd? How… fortuitous."

Kagome's fingers tightened around the grip of her bow, her eyebrows furrowing. "What?"

The woman canted her head to the side, appraising. The way her cold pale eyes roved up and down her, it felt… predatory, and left Kagome unsettled, made her wonder if the magister had the strength, the power to back up her behavior, or if it was only arrogance that fueled her.

"Oh?" A curious lilt was to her voice, a soft, dangerous sound. "So you're to tell me you're not with him?" she wondered aloud, eyes sharpening. They trailed over to the weapon in Kagome's hands, tracing along its curve. "No… I don't recall any information of his female companions being an archer. You are the one who interrupted my ritual earlier, however. A treasure hunter, then?" The magister chuckled then, the sound of it slow and dark as it slinked throughout the room, "Oh, my, I'm afraid you've stumbled into the wrong den alone."

Kagome's eyes narrowed, ignoring the rest of the woman's rambling over the mention of 'him'. Could she be… talking about Fenris? Hope lit a fire in her chest, refreshed her spirit anew.

Kagome lifted her chin, allowing her grip around her bow to shift, preparing to pull an arrow from her quiver. She met this magister's ice blue gaze with her own head on. "No," she said, her voice strong and steady, "I'm just a friend."

The woman blinked, her forehead wrinkling. "A friend?"

Kagome's lips curled into a deadly smirk of her own. "You work with Danarius, no?" she inquired, just to make sure.

The magister tensed, the predatory expression slipping on her face in favor of the apprehension bleeding into its edges. Her tone turned wary. "You know of my mentor."

Kagome stilled. Her smirk began to fade. Mentor? "So you're Hadriana?" she ventured, voice faint, the question more an afterthought to the heated fury churning deep in her gut. It spread throughout her veins, flickering under her skin and burning away her fatigue.

"Sometimes I wondered who I hated more — Danarius, of course, but there were times… There were times I believed Hadriana to be worse. Perhaps because she would intrude on my reprieve, because she… as one would say, poured salt in an already sweltering wound."

Kagome was not lying earlier when she said she felt compelled to continue her pursuit of this magister in order to save the innocent people she and her hirelings had captured, but that wasn't the entire truth.

Fenris had only told her a few stories of Hadriana, the apprentice his ex-master had taken on when he had been a slave, but it was enough.

And it was enough to want the head of the woman herself.

Hadriana's eyes grew wide upon hearing her name falling from the archer's lips. She drew her hands up, fists glowing as she issued her demand, "Who are you?!"

So she didn't find Fenris himself; saving those meant to be used as sacrifices at least ensured that her venture into this den of slavers wasn't a total loss. But this. Her?

Finding Hadriana made it a victory.

"A friend," Kagome repeated, voice harsh, and felt her lips curl and pull back once more, felt as the cut across her cheek stretched and stung because of it. Idly, she wondered if the smirk looked as threatening as she sincerely hoped it to be.

"Of Fenris."

"Fenris! What's going on!"

Fenris shook his head curtly, not once breaking his stride as he briskly crossed the corridor, the others following close behind in pursuit. "It is nothing, Hawke."

"Curious, considering the kid's description of this woman certainly set a fire under your tail," Varric remarked, dry.

Hawke matched Fenris's pace step for step, her face a picture of concern that weaved in and out of his peripheral view from the corner of his eyes as he refused to look her way. "You seem unsettled, Fenris."

Fenris barked a laugh, the sound of it dark and cutting. "If I do, you can attribute it to the woman trying to drag me back to Tevinter in chains. Not whoever this woman that is allegedly looking for me is."

"'Allegedly'?" came Varric's snort from behind them, "Lady comes in arrows flying looking for a white-haired elf in armor on the same day a white-haired elf in armor comes strolling in to confront the Tevinter magister after said white-haired elf in armor. But, sure, we'll go with allegedly and just — ignore any possibility that it could all be connected!"

"Gladly," Fenris groused, much to Varric's chagrin as the latter let out a long-suffering groan. He could imagine the dwarf throwing his hands up in the air at him.

"No, no, I think our stout friend makes a good point." Isabela interrupted, "Granted, you would think if she was looking for Fenris she'd make mention of his markings, but it all sort of fits into place if you actually know someone like the boy described."

"It isn't her," Fenris gritted out.

Isabela let out an exasperated sigh. "Why not?"

Fenris snarled. "Because it cannot be possible! This can't — she can't-!" The words caught in his throat, coming as a choked noise of agony and frustration instead.

"... your friend?" Hawke ventured, her voice a careful prod, and of course she would catch on.

The two words alone were vague; from anyone else, he could have taken them as an assumption made in general. But Hawke said it with an emphasis that she could only mean one person — the only person he ever confessed to knowing from his past.

Fenris reeled to a halt, whirling on her, his breaths coming fast now. "She is dead," he snapped out, hoarse with every bit of guilt and agony it took to admit it out loud. He could see the expressions of shock breaking out across the others as they followed in staggering to a stop, but Fenris fixed his stare on Hawke in front of him, looking for all the world regretful for even bringing it up. "I am sure of it! I searched all over that clearing for her and found nothing but dead bodies, burnt beyond recognition. That blast took out everyone but me!"

"How did you escape?" Isabela asked, voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Fenris glanced at her, only to turn away at the soft sadness in her face. "I don't-" he faltered, shoulders sagging, "I don't know. My markings, they respond to magic instinctively — I presumed to have phased through the blast. I lost consciousness, hurt but untouched by the flames. The force no doubt threw me into a tree."

"And your friend?" Varric asked, a softer pry this time, "There isn't any way she could have escaped it?"

Fenris clenched his eyes shut.

A chill zipping up his spine. A shriek — a warning: "Fenris!" A flash of pink; a glimpse of blue eyes, his final one for the rest of his days, round with fear. Bright oranges and reds filling his vision, overwhelmingly, and then darkness.

Fenris let out a shuddering breath. "She- she could create barriers. She did so then, I know that much, but it must not have been enough, or she did not have enough time to… to fortify it. The explosion took us both by surprise."

He cleared his throat, turning away, clenching his eyes tighter against the sting in his eyes. "Anyway, it is as I said — I combed through every inch of that clearing. I could find only one thing she kept in her possession, and it was next to a body that matched her size. It cannot be her."

Fenris forced himself to stalk forward then, and upon reaching the door at the corridor's end, pushed it open with a little more force than necessary.

"Well, whoever she is, she's efficient. You gotta give her that," Isabela mused, trying to lighten the mood as they passed into another chamber — the last, considering how close the sounds of battle now were.

"Let's just hope she's still alive," Hawke remarked, her voice quiet as she observed the bodies.

"Hear that?" Varric said then, stepping closer to the door on the opposite side of the room. Upon listening closer, they could hear the dying shrieks of demons and, even fainter, the sound of voices. "Sure sounds like she is."

"Let's go before that changes then," Hawke urged.

Just as they moved for the door, a livid shriek filled the air.

Throwing up her hands, Kagome sliced the air with her bow, an angry cry leaving her lips — pink light flickered, pulsing out in a wave of wide arcs. She may have run out of arrows, but arrows weren't necessary when dealing with demons. Three rage demons and two shades all fell to dust at once, and the sound of Hadriana's fearful gasp was like music to her ears.

"Call as many demons as you wish," the miko snarled, her glaring eyes like infernos as she traded her bow for her daggers. Fatigue wore at her once more, but Kagome ignored it with ease. For Fenris. "They'll be no help to you here!"

A wild scream tore itself from Hadriana's mouth — Kagome sensed the surge of magic in the air before the surrounding floor quavered, knocking her off balance. Just as she caught herself on her palms, both her blades skittering out of reach, the surface broke open. Skeletal bodies climbed out the dirt, rising with stiff, jerking movements.

Kagome grunted, annoyed. "Undead," she muttered under her breath. Demons she could turn to ash with very little effort. Undead, on the other hand, were something she unfortunately discovered needed dealing with like any other living foe — a lesson she learned firsthand after stumbling into a cave of them years ago.

Hadriana panted heavily, a wild look to her eyes, but her grin was triumphant as she read the expression on Kagome's face and found her tactic a successful one.

Kagome glared back, frustrated. She was about to push herself up from the ground when they heard the door slam open to the left. Their heads snapped over towards the noise, the triumph sluiced from the mage's face like water; instead, Hadriana went pale and stricken as a party of four ran in to join them, their weapons at the ready, and most important of all, a familiar elf at their lead, the markings across his skin glowing bright and pulsing erratically to match the fury writ on his face.

The sight of the fallen archer on the ground had them all reeling to a stop, however, and Kagome felt her breath become stolen at the sight of him.

"Fenris..."

aaah! and finally, after almost three long years, (and like five long chapters) they finally see each other once more! (thank fucking god lmao)

but the fight isn't over yet! (cue ominous laughter)

haha, anyway, anyone ever play da2 with the face morph ageing mods? that changed some of the characters looks when you progressed into the next act? bc i diiiid. lmao. i found one for orana that had her much younger when you meet her in act 2, and idk, i kinda felt it more fitting? i just liked the idea of orana being really young then, like a teenager, so in here she's say.. 16/17 ish.

and i also have a couple announcements here-namely, more fanart! lmao, kagomes-lover and beautiful-phantom both drew some amazing pieces that you guys should definitely check out! since outgoing links are still down here on ffn profiles, please head over to zefyre. tumblr. c-o-m/directory for the links on where to go (they'll be marked new!)

i think that's it? (i hope that's it lmao) thanks for the reviews last chapter everyone, it means a lot! and i really hope you all enjoyed this chapter! :D