Note: And it's Team Hawke's turn! Apologies for the long delay, I went on holiday and got sick, and am only now just recovered. I'm also working on a side story, 'Curse', featuring Leliana's point of view of this series, so I might flit between the two.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Varric almost choked on his ale. "We're going there?!"

Hawke laughed, draping her arm around the dwarf's shoulders. She'd thought Varric would not take the news well, hence why she'd decided to conceal her plan until they were almost at their destination. They were passing away the evening in a tavern near Lake Callenhad, pretty much the only patrons there. Fenris shook his head, sipping his wine, while Merrill played with her mug, humming to herself.

"Surely Orzammar's not that bad?" Hawke asked, her tone innocent.

"Do you even realise what you're saying?" Varric held a palm to his head. "I'd rather be back playing tag with that High Dragon in the Frostbacks. Besides, there's plenty of Deep Roads elsewhere. Can't we go someplace else?"

"You can't tell me the dwarves have been ignoring Corruption when it's running rampant on their doorstep," Hawke pointed out. "It's the best place to start finding a way to remove it."

"Maybe, but if they had anything useful to offer, my contacts would've told me," Varric said. "I still think we're better off returning to Ansburg, where you first saw the stuff."

"I appreciate the idea, but from what Aveline's been telling me, we need to steer clear of the Free Marches for now." Hawke rested her heels up on the table. "If you really don't want to come, you can always turn back for Skyhold…"

"No way." Varric downed the rest of his ale in one gulp. "This is the most time I've gotten to spend with you in ages, I'm making the most of it." He managed a chortle. "Doesn't mean I won't still be complaining all the way."

"Do you honestly feel the dwarves will be willing to help, Amber?" Fenris asked, swirling the last of his wine in its glass. "They've been very quiet about Corruption since the beginning, and that worries me."

"I imagine they quite like having a comfort blanket against the darkspawn," Hawke said, "but we can't let it keep spreading, even if it's good for some things." She ran a finger around her tankard. "If it ever breaks onto the surface…"

A sudden prickle ran through her Shard, and Hawke blinked. She let her feet drop, and not a moment later one of the barmaids yelped. Hawke snapped her head around, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. A hooded figure had staggered inside, holding a hand across his stomach. Dark crimson stained his fingers, and he trembled, his breaths ragged.

"Please…help…me…"

He made to stagger to the nearest table, but his legs gave way. More blood dribbled onto the floor, and he groaned.

Hawke abandoned her drink and scrambled to his side. He was certainly well wrapped up—a scarf covered most of his face, and his arms were protected with leather gauntlets and gloves. Her gaze fell to his injury, noting the clean rip through his cloak and shirt. A knife-wound.

"Hey, what happened?" She snatched a rag from her pouch, pressing it against the bleeding tear. Stranger or not, she couldn't just leave him like this.

The man took a gasping breath. "They're…right behind…"

Hawke frowned, and not just for his words. Something about the man's voice seemed awfully familiar.

Before she could think on it further, the tavern doors barged open again, and mutterings in a foreign tongue caught her ear. Two men stormed towards her, wearing unusual robes, and both carried swords.

"You there, get away from him!" The first man's accent was thickly Tevinter. "He is our prisoner!"

"Prisoner?" Hawke raised a brow. If these sort were after him, he must have fled a long way indeed. She glanced back to the wounded man, when a hand touched her shoulder.

"We should not get involved." Fenris's voice was low, his eyes never leaving the men. He made to pull Hawke back, but she resisted.

"Hang on," she protested. "Seems a little mean to throw him back when he's pretty beaten up?"

"We will deal with that," the Tevinter man snarled. "Now get out of our way, before you join him!"

Hawke scowled. However, at that moment, the wounded man hissed. He forced his eyes open, then pushed Hawke away.

"I…will never…"

He clawed to his feet, and a chilling charge filled the air. Hawke grimaced, her forehead tingling, and even Fenris flinched. So, he was a mage? But this was more than that. The taste of static on her tongue, the cold running down her spine like ice water…she had only felt such things once before. Yet that was impossible.

Because it would mean that this man was…

The man's eyes took on a blueish glow, and he thrust out his palm. The two men braced their weapons, and their blades sparkled with lyrium. The spell vanished, absorbed into the steel, and the mage cried out, dropping to his knees. Yelling, the men charged.

"Wait!" Hawke jumped in front of them. Her Shard came to life, and the pair stopped in mid-strike. Hawke kept their gaze, and they started to fall under her thrall. The tiniest of smirks graced her lips. "He's not that important, right?"

The Tevinters looked at each other, bemused.

"I mean, you're a long way from home, you must be missing it a lot," Hawke went on, letting her power sink further. "Why not go back?"

One of the men blinked.

"Yes," He sheathed his sword. "I'm sick of this backwater dump of a country. We don't need him. We will return to Minrathous at once."

His comrade nodded, and without another word they slipped into the night. Sighing, Hawke let her Shard dim, wondering how she had ever coped without its tricks.

As the rune fell quiet, the mage's eyes rolled upwards, and he collapsed.

"Whoa!" Hawke sprang to his side, and she carefully laid him on his back. Courtesy fell away, and she ripped his scarf off. Though his face bore new scars, half-hidden by an unkempt beard, there was no mistaking who had called forth such power.

"Andraste's ass, is that who I think is?!" Varric spluttered.

Hawke could only nod, her fist clenching.

"What the hell are you doing here, Anders?" She turned to Fenris. "Give me a hand."

The elf warrior snarled.

"I will not…"

"That was an order, not a request!" Hawke snapped. "We'll argue about what to do with him later."

Fenris's scowl darkened, but he made no further protest. Reluctantly he took Anders's arm, and along with Hawke they carried him to the upper rooms. Varric tossed the barman some extra sovereigns, muttering an apology, before he and Merrill also followed.

Hawke slung the unconscious mage onto the bed, making short work to expose the wound. His cloak was ridiculously heavy, weighed down with Maker-knew what. Now she realised why he was so covered up—every blemish on his skin had taken a faint glow, similar to the lyrium markings Fenris bore.

What in the Maker's name had he done to himself?

Merrill rummaged in her pack, producing a suturing kit, antiseptic salts and some bandages.

"I'll fix him up in no time," she proclaimed. Hawke shifted aside, letting her do her work. Pained memories had already started to creep back, and she shook her head. This was the last thing she needed.

Thankfully the cut was not as deep as first appeared, and soon it was cleaned and mended. As Merrill washed her hands in the basin, Hawke made to drape Anders' cloak over him, when something inside brushed her leg.

"Maker, what's he keeping in this thing?" She foraged in the inner pocket, removing a black leather tome. Its binding had gold gilding, although its title was in Tevene, so she had no idea what it said. She chewed her lip. It seemed Anders had run very far indeed since fleeing Kirkwall.

But why was the Imperium after him?

"Something tells me this isn't a coincidence," Varric remarked, holding a hand to his chin.

"And here I was hoping for no surprises," Hawke muttered.

"We'll see what he has to say for himself," Fenris growled.

Merrill returned to Anders, her staff in hand. She lightly tapped his forehead, and Anders mumbled, brought back to wakefulness. His eyes flickered open, and he made to sit, groggy. Fenris bared his teeth, while Hawke folded her arms.

"Long time no see, Anders," she greeted, though her tone was anything but warm. "If I'd known we'd be running into each other, I'd have brought a gift."

Anders glanced aside.

"It's been…a little while, hasn't it?" He held a hand to his head. "But I'm glad I've finally found you. It's good to see you again."

That was too much. Snarling, Hawke's hand shot out, grabbing his neck. Anders gasped, but made no motion to resist.

"You give me one reason I shouldn't finish the Tevinter's job right this second," Hawke rumbled. All the fury and frustration of that night in Kirkwall had come flooding back, and she could barely contain herself. "Do you have any idea what you did? What your actions cost?" Her arm shook. "And then you were so cowardly you just turned tail and ran!"

"I am…well aware." Anders's voice was quiet, but firm. "I'm sorry…it didn't work out…as I hoped."

"Is that all you have to say?!" Hawke's clenched her fingers harder. Anders croaked, feebly reaching for her hand. "You brought a city to its knees, you started a war that's now led to an even bigger mess, you even tore my sister away from me again!" Her Shard began to stir. "If you think you can just crawl back and act like nothing changed…"

"Hey, don't be too rough on Blondie, Hawke," Varric broke in. "He can't talk if he's being choked to death!"

Hawke bit her lip. The dwarf was right. Much as she wanted to give Anders what for, something else was going on, and she needed to know the full deck before she could play her hand.

She threw Anders back to the bed. The mage coughed, clasping his newly sutured wound. Merrill took his arm, helping him to lay down.

"You shouldn't be too angry," she said quietly. "It sounds like he really wanted to see you again. He must have missed you a lot."

"Oh, he'll be wishing he never left my side, alright." Hawke took a breath, reigning in the rage threatening to take over. Keep it together.

Swallowing, she held up the book. "Okay, let's start with this. I'm guessing it's the reason Tevinter's on your back?"

Anders managed a nod. He sat up against the pillows, catching his breath. Once he was recovered, he reached into his cloak, pulling out a vial. Hawke recognised it as pethirine, and waited as he downed the pain-killing medicine. He remained silent for a while, gathering his thoughts.

"I didn't expect our reunion to go smoothly," he said. "I truly am sorry, Amber. But it had to be done, and now there's something worse than Templars that threatens all mages." He rested his hands on his stomach. "I came across it shortly after I went ahead with the rebellion. It seemed relatively harmless, but I've since seen if it's not stopped, it could destroy us all."

"Let me guess, it's an underground mist that blocks a mage's powers, and can corrode whatever's around it?" Hawke offered.

A relieved smile fell upon Anders. "Then it is true. You have been trying to combat it."

"Hmm, did a little bird tell you?" Hawke asked.

"One of the Ansburg Wardens," Anders admitted. "They also told me Templars were trying to weaponize the mist against mages. Of course, I had no means to challenge them, as it even stops Justice manifesting, so I had to find other ways."

"I thought that was him earlier," Hawke said. "Although he's not nearly as impressive as he used to be. Those Tevinters shrugged him off like he was nothing."

"It's the fault of the mist," Anders said. "It's made Justice much weaker, and I fear soon he'll disappear forever. Even my spirit can't sustain him anymore."

"And what about you?" Merrill asked. "Will you disappear as well?"

"I don't know, and frankly I don't care." Anders glanced to the scars on his torso. "I've tried a few things to slow his decay, but they won't last. But that's not what I came to talk about."

"Go on," Hawke prompted.

"I joined some mage Wardens who were also investigating the mist," Anders went on. "They seemed to think we would find answers in Tevinter. So we scoured their archives, raided their libraries, risked anything and everything to find something to defend ourselves." His eyes fell to the tome in Hawke's grasp. "And finally, we did. That was when I knew I had to find you. I won't get much further without your help."

"Must be important then, if Tevinter were willing to send soldiers after you," Varric chimed.

"Pray tell, what did you find?" Hawke asked.

Anders licked his lips. He gestured for the book, and Hawke handed it over.

"What the Chantry tells us about Andraste is a lie," he said, flicking through the pages. "And the lies we think Tevinter preach are actually closer to the real truth."

Hawke stiffened. Part of her chided that she shouldn't have been so surprised, but she couldn't shake her disquiet. Why did all matters concerning Corruption always lead back to the prophet?

"Tevinter holds that Andraste was a mage, but she was even more than that," Anders continued. "Somehow, she was born with the soul of an ancient goddess, and had the power to control 'the black heart of darkness'. From how they describe it, it sounds exactly like the mist, meaning it's been around for a long, long time."

"Wow, that's one conspiracy I haven't heard before," Varric mused. "Where did that nonsense come from, some underground cult?"

"It's more credible than you realise," Anders said. "This book was the most detailed, but there are hundreds of them in the Black Divine's Holy Vault, and they all speak of the same thing. And it's a truth Tevinter doesn't want widely known."

"Seems strange for them to be so protective over it," Hawke commented. "No matter how twisted the true story of the prophet might be, the Chantry would just deny it as heresy."

"Maybe, but you haven't heard it all yet," Anders said. "When Andraste marched to Tevinter, the magisters at the time realised her true power. So they imprisoned her and tried to extract her soul for themselves. Such attempts failed, of course, and Andraste died. But Andraste herself crafted a relic to save her soul, should this happen, and after her death, the Tevinters got hold of it. So they conjured up a doppelganger, who was later burned at the stake, and kept experimenting, until that relic was eventually stolen and lost. I believe the Tevinter Chantry are still seeking it, which is why they've done all they can to keep it a secret."

He held the book aloft, revealing a drawing of the relic. At once Hawke's jaw hung slack. Merrill held her hands to her mouth, and Varric and Fenris could only stare, eyes wide.

"No freaking way…" Hawke could barely get the words out. Yet there was no denying the goddess statue with its winged helmet and scythe.

The same statue she, Elissa and Lahara had found in the lost temple.

"What's the matter?" Anders raised a brow. Slowly, realisation dawned, and he caught his breath. "Wait, have you seen this somewhere?!"

"I've more than seen it." Hawke closed her eyes, and the rune on her forehead flashed. "It's become a part of me."

Anders gasped.

"Then...then you have Andraste's lost power!"

"Not quite," Hawke said. "I only have a third of it. The rest was split between my good friends Elissa Cousland and Lahara Trevelyan."

"The Hero and the Herald?" Anders blinked. "But how?" He shook his head. "How were you able to even find it? Tevinter's searched for centuries, and have never even come close!"

"It's a long story," Hawke answered, rubbing her temple. "One I don't want to get into right now. But all you need to know is that these Shards of Andraste do work against Corruption, and we're going to use it to eradicate it completely."

Anders sat straighter. "Then I'm coming with you."

"No." Fenris spoke before Hawke. "You will not trick us again."

"This is no trick!" Anders snapped. "However powerful your 'Shard' might be, it won't do any good unless you know where best to use it. I have that information, and much more."

"Then hand it over and be on your way!" Fenris spat.

Anders's eyes began to flare. "This doesn't concern…"

"Alright, cut it out!" Hawke barked, coming between the two. "This has become enough of a headache, I won't have it get any worse." She ran a hand through her hair. Like it or not, there was only one real choice. "Look Fenris, I'd rather not believe him, either, but we can't look a gift horse in the mouth. The safest option is to bring him along."

"I won't accept that!" Fenris retorted. "He led us into a trap before, how do we know any of what he's saying is even the truth?"

"You can't deny that statue was the one Elissa activated," Hawke shot back. "Just as you can't deny the existence of these Shards, and you've seen they're the only thing Corruption reacts to. That's more than enough for me." She turned to Anders. "But that doesn't mean I trust you, Anders. I'm not that naïve to think you've not been tempted to weaponize Corruption yourself."

Anders's brows narrowed. "I would never…"

"Play innocent all you want. I know you," Hawke interrupted. The rune on her forehead flickered, and Anders winced, his own markings stirred. "And if you're going to be tagging along, you'll be playing by my rules. You disagree, the door's right there."

Anders clenched his teeth. He stared at the bed, deliberating with himself. Eventually he let out a breath, and met Hawke's gaze.

"Fine."