Disclaimer: I feel like there should be a banner for ff net proclaiming: WELCOME TO FANFICTION NET, WHERE ALL WORKS ARE COMPLETELY 100% UNORIGINAL! that might save me from having to constantly remind people I don't own DA... oh, btw, I don't own DA.

A/N: the first part of this chapter is in Odd Couple. it was originally meant to be part of Odd Couple, but Fen decided he wanted to have his say on the Merrill recruitment mission. so here it is. Enjoy!

The Space Between

Part 2 The Long Way Home (The Witch's Advice)

It might be of interest to note that the mage is terrified of spiders.

We had nearly reached the summit of the mountain—whose name escapes me for the moment—when the Dalish witch told us that there was a quicker route to the top through one of the mountain caves. Given that we were on something of a time crunch due to the Guard-woman's caravan, she and the dwarf voted for the cave path—though I think the dwarf's avocation had less to do with saving lives than it did to save himself further hiking. The mage had had no real complaint against the idea either, so that left me as the single nay-sayer.

Because, no, I was not hip on the idea of going into an unknown cave with a Dalish mage I didn't know. Especially not one about to be willingly abandoned by her clan, for reasons she still would not divulge to us.

But damned if anyone listened to me.

No, why on earth would a former slave—chased over all of Maker and creation, mind you—know that going into strange caves with questionable people (and yes, the fact she's a mage makes it worse) is inherently a bad idea?

So when the first of the giant spiders descended from the cave ceiling, and the mage ducked behind the cursing Guards-woman, screaming incoherently, and the dwarf got stuck in spider webs that allowed him no movement what so ever, and the Dalish witch began randomly throwing fireballs at shadows on the walls instead of at the spiders…

Well, there was a great deal of vindication on my end.

Followed swiftly by irritation.

Fear made the mage essentially useless, and his antics made the guards-woman essentially useless, and the dwarf was stuck in a corner, once more essentially useless. Guess who that left?

Hence, irritation.

Are we starting to see a pattern here?

I had killed at least two of the spiders (and was covered head to toe in green and brown slime, ugh) when the guards-woman finally shook off her mage tick, and waded fully into the fight alongside me. She kept her Templar shield up to ward off the many legs surrounding us, while my broadsword found the soft underbellies of the beasts. The dwarf was still stuck in webs, but the mages had finally gotten off their collective asses and were slinging both stone and vines to hinder the spiders' advance.

It took a long five minutes, but it was eventually over.

Signified by the mage's boneless collapse. And I honestly couldn't help pointing out, "Perhaps the next time you get the bright idea to explore unknown caves, you will heed caution instead of strangers." That last part was directed to the witch, if it wasn't clear.

She, in turn, at least had the decency to flush with discomfort. "I-I didn't know about the spiders. Really. If I did…"

The guards-woman glared at me, "The spiders don't matter, Fenris. We simply don't have time—"

"Because of this caravan of yours? Why does that matter? To any of you? You," I point at the dwarf, "are a smuggler and often use the information being leaked about these guard rotations, or caravans, or whatever, for your own gain. You," I point at the guards-woman, "are going outside your jurisdiction, and overriding both your superiors and your fellow guards just to see this through. Good deed or no, do you really think your superiors will tolerate such behavior, and allow you to stay on? And you," I finally point to the mage (who was still huddled on the ground), "are not even remotely concerned in this. It's not your fight. Why bother with such menial tasks?"

The guards-woman, by this point, was as red as her hair, and her eyes were livid. "It's not—!"

"Stop."

And suddenly, somehow, that single word froze the world.

"Just…just stop, okay? You…Fenris, you were right about the cave. You were right, and I'm sorry we didn't listen to you. I—"

The mage gave a tiny sniffle, and it occurred to me that he looked…incredibly small. Which was preposterous; the man was a good head or so taller than me, and wielded the elements with a thought and a gesture. This was not a small man. Yet such was how he seemed right then.

And I realized that it made me feel…like a bit of a heel, honestly.

But the mage continued, "But if your argument against Aveline, or Varric, or me going after this caravan is that it's not our fight, then I gotta ask," he looked up, his eyes (for all that they were red and wet from crying, and his face pale and blotchy from fear) fierce as they met mine, "why did you ask for help?"

It was this question that put me in a position I've had yet to find myself in before: I was at a genuine loss for words.

The guards-woman smiled proudly at him. The dwarf chuckled darkly, "Couldn't have put it better myself, Hawke. Now, will someone get me down from here?"

The witch scurried over to him, while the guards-woman padded over to where the mage still sat in a huddled lump, and proceeded to pull off her neckerchief and tend to him.

"Sweet Maker, Hawke, you've made quite the mess of yourself, haven't you?" I heard her murmur.

He flushed and ducked his head, "It's not my fault I'm scared of spiders…You don't have to—"

"Just be sure to wash it before you give it back."

It struck me watching them…I felt as alone as I ever have. And…jealous. So deeply, incredibly jealous, that I found myself turning away just so I couldn't see them.

So they couldn't see me.

Pathetic.

"Fucking hell!" I flinched and turned around, expecting more enemies. "Bianca's firing mechanism's completely clogged!"

…Oh.

Damn dwarf sniggered, "Did I scare you elf?"

"Poor little wolf, did the wittle baby wyvern scare you?"

I felt my face flame and my markings flare in response to my anger. Everything was starting to turn red at the remembered slight, too. Not good; I had to keep control…!

I turned and got away from them as fast as I could, a high-pitched ghost of a cackle ringing through my ears.

Not good, not good. Keep it together!

The world was still narrowing, and I ended up having to follow the scent of fresh air to find the right path. I hardly felt the sharp-edged stones underfoot, or heard the sound of footsteps behind me. The path, narrow though it was, was at least short, and I found myself outside soon enough.

With that, I dropped.

It was childish, but I sat there just beside the path, and put my head between my knees, and just breathed. I needed to regain control of my senses; it would gain me no favors if I allowed my rage to blindly murder one of the mage's companions—especially the dwarf. He seemed uncommonly fond of the little man. Thankfully, the crisp gale cooled my rage rather well, and there was the distinct scent of rain and lightning in the air around me.

That meant thunderstorms.

I enjoyed thunderstorms; such power, such unbridled strength, churning through all that was old and overgrown, nourishing the young and unfettered. And there was no scent in this world that was as soul-deeply relaxing as rain-soaked earth, and electrically-charged atmosphere. It had been during such storms that I got the greatest amount of rest from those who pursued me, as well.

Also, perhaps I was going insane, but I swore I could feel warmth beside me…

I lifted my head and looked over to see the mage sitting next to me. His head was tilted back against the wall of stone behind us, and his eyes were closed to the blowing gale, and he wasn't facing me, but he was there. He had managed to get this close to me, and I hadn't even noticed…!

Then he opened his eyes and looked at me. And it was strange, unnatural, but the rest of the world fell away under his gaze.

This man's eyes…I've never seen anything like them. Around the pupil was a ring of gold, like an actual bird of prey, streaks of pale green flecked throughout, and the gold blended into a sky-blue, then into a rich, cloudy grey that at a distance looked silver. It unnerved me, truly, to look him in the eye.

Just as suddenly as the world fell away, though, it came rushing back. He had seen me…! I felt my ears burn in embarrassment, and I turned away to save what little face I still had. I could feel his gaze as I got to my feet, and could almost hear him ask me again, "Why did you ask for help?" Even worse, I could imagine him asking why I was huddled outside like a child from some imagined slight.

"It's gonna be a big one," was what I heard instead.

I looked back. He was once more tilted up towards the sky, the winds blowing about his frizzy curls every which way. "What?"

"The storm. It's gonna be big; maybe a storm surge…been a long time since I've been in one o' those," he grinned.

I searched his expression for some form of censure, of pity, and found…none. There were just his eyes, and his smile, and his long, lithe form hunched against a mass of rock. And I felt myself relax, almost against my will, at the fact that he wasn't going to say anything else.

I was also saved answering his little diatribe as the other three stepped out of the cave. The dwarf and the guards-woman ribbed the mage for "sitting down on the job" before helping him to his feet and getting him moving. The little witch led us over to a crude stone gateway, beyond which I could see several large grave markers through the filmy lens of a barrier.

"I can get rid of the barrier," she said tonelessly, "One moment."

She stepped up directly to the screen. I didn't see her do it, but I picked up the scrape of a blade leaving its sheath, and in a moment, a plume of blood burst forth from the Dalish witch, tearing through the barrier. I growled as the scent of blood and lyrium permeated the once clean air, and I felt my skin shiver at the slick, sick feel of the girl's magic.

Blood magic.

"So that's why they want you gone," I said, "Foolish. Very foolish."

"Yes. It was blood magic, but I know what I'm doing! The spirit helped us didn't it?"

"That wasn't a spirit, Merrill," the mage whispered. I glanced at him; he was pale once more, and his eyes wide in shock and disgust. Well, that's a good sign. "That was a demon."

"Demons are merely spirits, too. They want more than what your Chantry calls spirits, but that doesn't make them evil."

"Oh no," I drawled, "Can't blame a tiger for its nature; it's not its fault you stuck your hand out for it to bite."

The witch narrowed her eyes in a glare. "I know what I'm doing! And I have my reasons for doing it. You don't like it, fine; nobody I know does."

"Maybe that should tell you something!"

"Enough!"

We both shrunk back as the mage's voice echoed across the mountain side. He strode past the witch saying, "We came here to settle this debt, not bicker about tabooed magic. So let's just see this done, okay?" He beckoned the witch over to him, and accessing the store of magic I'd only seen him use once, healed the oozing wound on her palm.

She touched the newly healed skin incredulously. "You're a Spirit Healer, and you disapprove of what I do?"

"It's kinda a knee-jerk reaction due to just that, but yeah. Honestly, I don't care that you dabble in forbidden arts; it's your life to ruin. But," he continued before the witch could shriek at him some more, "I also know what this could do to your clan. The Chantry's not known for being merciful to maleficarum, even if they're Dalish. Maybe especially if they're Dalish. Something like this'll get your clan massacred."

"I know. That's why I have to leave," the witch whispered. "The last thing I want is my clan in danger from the Chantry, especially since we lost our halla."

The mage sighed, "And I suppose I can't convince you to give this up now before it's too late?"

I growled. It was already too late.

"No," the witch said determinedly. "I must see this through. Whatever happens, I have to see this done. Still, we should hurry; Asha'Bellanar isn't known for her patience." She strode off towards an altar placed on the cliff edge, her ears flat in anger.

"Maker's ass, I need a drink," the mage muttered.

"I think we all do, Hawke," the dwarf muttered right back, following after the witch.

We all strode off after the witch to where she stood at a stone alter, preparing a ritual. I felt a shiver run down my spine at the thought of what this ritual might…require, but saw the stone top littered with various items that would otherwise hamper a blood ritual. It was rather a relief to see.

The witch turned back to us. "You have the amulet ready?" she asked, to which the mage pulled the item out from around his neck. It was surprisingly simple, given that a mage gave it to him; a simple disk of smooth willow tree bark, with a perfectly round cut pebble of ebony fixed in the center. The Dalish witch gave a nod at the sight of it.

She turned back to the alter, and after a deep breath, began to sing.

It was…odd to hear. Her voice was light and high and rather breathy, but the language she spoke felt like it should have been…heavier, darker, and smoother. Like she was trying to make a red wine out of white. But she was, apparently, doing something right because the jar in the center lit with a blue flame. She then turned to the mage and held out her hand for the amulet, which she the dropped into the flame, singing all the while.

As the last notes of her song ended, the flame jumped and grew into a blaze of blue-green light. The flames licked and curled, and even the Dalish witch stepped back when they curled into the form of a dragon, before beginning to peel back like flower petals.

As the flames died away to nothing, they revealed a woman: proud and tall and graceful, as powerful as she was old. She grinned, and I had to fight the urge to duck my head at the devilish light that entered her luminescent gold eyes; it was far too reminiscent of the way Danarius would smile. That smile informed me of one thing immediately: this was a woman who always got her way.

"Ah," she sighed, her voice like aged bourbon, "And here we are."

The Dalish witch bowed low, "Adran anti'shan, Asha'Bellanar."

The woman looked her over with an incurious light. "One of the People?" she murmured to herself, "So bright for one so young. Tell me, do you know who I am outside that title?"

"I know only a little," the girl said, her voice trembling and her eyes cast down in a manner that I both understood, and utterly detested.

"Then stand," the woman half ordered and half joked. "The People bend their knee too quickly."

She hopped down from the alter and strode over to where we stood—correction: where the mage stood. "It's so refreshing to see someone uphold their end of a bargain. I find myself a little bit surprised that my amulet did not end up in the pockets of some merchant."

He shrugged, and grinned, "I'm a man of my word. And besides, no one wanted to buy it. Probably because of the witch inside?"

The Witch (the not-Dalish one) chuckled lightly. "Only a piece. A small piece, but it was all I needed. If I know my Morrigan, and I dare say I do, then this little errand I asked will have been enough to pay back your debt to me."

"Who's Morrigan?"

"My daughter."

"You make her sound like an enemy," I muttered. The Witch's eyes snapped to mine, and I felt myself flinch involuntarily.

"I doubt even she knows which she is," she said. "Tell me, young man: You hail from Tevinter, yes?"

I didn't answer, but she seemed to find that answer enough.

"You may have slipped your leash, but you have yet to break you bonds. Be wary of whom you place your trust in: even one misstep may put you right back where you do not wish to be."

Well, that's…reassuring. I glanced at my "companions" briefly before turning my attention back to the Witch. "You say this as if I did not already know it."

She smiled again, "Then take heed that you do not forget it."

"Any other sterling advice for the rest of us little folk?" the dwarf asked with a little laugh.

She turned and looked him over. "Do not hold too tightly to those you lose." The dwarf flinched, but she continued, "Although, that advice could be said for all of you," she said, glancing over at the two humans as well. "Change is coming," she said as she turned to leave. "The world is on the precipice of a revolution; when it comes, do not hesitate to leap into it." The Witch stopped at the cliff's edge and looked back one last time. "It is only when you fall," she whispered, "that you discover if you can fly."

And then she jumped off the cliff.

Well…so much for that.

NOOOOOO! FLEMETH! jk, she's fine.

so I'm not sure i'll do another story chapter beyond Fen's personal story missions after this. like I said, he just wanted his time to shine, but this was fun to write, so hey, you never know, right?

Review, plz & thnk u!