A/N: Hey guys… Sorry for the delay. Was a little hard to get this one out. This chapter and the one that comes after it are more or less fillers. I told you I was trying to get past Act 2, and unfortunately it's taking a little longer than I had hoped. But no matter. Things will get going soon enough ;). Thanks for all the reviews and alerts guys. You're awesome.

Chapter 9

Release myself from holding back,

I realize now my world's not flat,

An open mind, an open court,

Open runways, open the doors,

So deep, so dear.

So much to do, so little time,

I think this just might blow my mind,

I hope there's nothing overlooked,

Cause I just want to shout out loud.

-Prime Circle, Hello.

His old Hightown estate was nothing like he had remembered it. There were changes everywhere. What had once been his old nursery was now a study. His older brother's room now belonged to Abby. The vivid green and blue Antivan carpet which had once dominated the front entrance hall had been replaced by a plush vibrant red one. Everywhere he looked was an inconsistency, but after a week spent getting to know Abigail Hawke and her mother, and visiting what was now their house, he was used to the changes. Things felt familiar again. Slowly, Tristan Amell was starting to feel at home. Leandra Hawke had accepted him instantly into her family, taking him on as a sort of adopted son, fussing around him in much the same way as a mother hen does one of its chicks. She lamented that he, like Abigail, was an 'adventurous spirit' and had vowed to have them both married to respectable noble partners by the end of the month.

"Don't look at your feet!" Abigail hissed at him.

Tristan snapped his head up, smiling ruefully at his cousin. They stepped apart, danced a circle around each other, stepped close again and Tristan took her back in his arms.

"This is ridiculous," he sighed, risking another quick glance at his feet to ensure that he was taking the correct steps. Abby grinned.

"If you're going to attend a noble ball, you have to know how to dance Tristan," she told him. "How else will you convince some nobleman's daughter to marry you?"

"I don't want to get married!" he muttered.

Abigail laughed. "No one ever said you had a choice," she added, winking.

"Very good, very good," their Orlesian dance instructor called out to them, from where he stood in front of the fireplace. He clapped his hands. "Now spin!"

Obediently Tristan spun Abigail away from him, and then spun her back again. The skirts of her purple gown flared around her as she twirled. She looked utterly beautiful, dressed in an elegant off-the-shoulder vivid violet gown that clung to her body until it reached her thighs where it flared out around her. The colour offset her brilliant blue eyes, which served to intensify their striking colour. Tristan had been dressed in polished, knee-high black boots, white breeches and a tailored doublet that fit him snugly. The doublet was navy blue and was detailed with fine silver embroidery – it was possibly the most expensive item of clothing he had ever owned.

"You two look amazing!" Leandra gasped, walking down the staircase and into the front hall of the mansion where the pair was practicing. She pressed a hand to her lips, her blue eyes filling with tears of happiness. "Finally! We look like a family of real nobles again,"

"Your daughter is going to dazzle those noblemen," Tristan told her, smiling at Abby warmly. "I wouldn't be surprised if she leaves tonight with a dozen marriage proposals at least,"

Actually, he would be shocked if the night ended with even one marriage proposal for his cousin. Especially since they weren't actually planning on attending the ball. While Leandra believed they were attending the annual Kirkwall nobleman's ball, they were instead going to be checking out a certain Hightown mansion owned by a man named Gascard DuPuis. According to Abigail, the man was a suspect in a series of women's disappearances. They had hidden their staffs and a change of clothing outside the estate and now it was only a case of waiting for Aveline, Anders and Isabela to arrive so that they could leave.

"That would be wonderful!" Leandra sighed with happiness. She moved into the room, watching them with misty-eyed happiness. "What a wonderful couple the pair of you make,"

Abigail stiffened, her eyes widening. "What did you say?"

Leandra hummed thoughtfully. "I've been thinking…Why don't the two of you get married? It would be far simpler,"

"What?" Tristan jerked back, releasing Abigail as though burned. Hawke stumbled backwards, staring back at him in horror.

"Maker no… No, no, no." She shook her head, staring back at her mother in disbelief. "Please tell me you are joking?"

Leandra smiled at them. "Why not?"

"She's my cousin," Tristan stated flatly.

"It would be wrong." Abby added, shuddering.

"She's your second cousin, darling," Leandra told Tristan gently. "When you think about it, you're not that closely related. And besides, cousins get married all the time. It strengthens the bloodlines in noble families."

"Mother, stop!" Abigail begged, holding one hand up desperately. "I already consider Tristan as another sibling,"

Tristan nodded his head vigorously. "Agreed. Abigail is like the little sister I never had,"

Leandra sighed again. "Fine, fine. It was just a thought," she raised her hand, motioning for them to move closer again. "Carry on. Tristan needs as much practice as he can get," she walked over to the dance instructor's side to watch them.

"Please tell me that did not just happen," Abby whispered, as they began to dance again.

Tristan chuckled softly. "I think I might be scarred for life,"

A peal of loud, delighted laughter distracted them and both mages whipped their heads around to stare at the doorway. Isabela and Anders stood just inside the hall. Isabela was laughing, Anders was smirking. Aveline was nowhere in sight.

"Where the hell is Aveline?" Abby hissed at them.

Isabela shrugged. "She's on her way. Anders and I decided to come early and watch the show,"

"You think this is funny?" Tristan demanded, a tad irritably. He was still struggling to keep himself from stepping on Abigail's feet. Isabela nodded her head, still shaking with laughter. Blue eyes narrowed, Tristan released Abby, stepped closer to the pirate and grabbed her hand.

"No, Tristan!" Isabela laughed, as he drew her into his arms. She stared up at him in panic. "I don't dance," she protested.

"You're doing fine," he murmured. A mischievous grin lit his features and he shifted his grip on her hand, spinning her away from him. Isabela yelped, tripped over her own feet and fell backwards, dragging Tristan down with her. They both collapsed in a heap on the polished marble floor, giggling helplessly.

"What in the Maker's name was that?" the dance instructor demanded in outrage. He clapped his hands together impatiently. "Again! Again! No falling this time!"

"Sorry I'm late Hawke…" Aveline's voice came from somewhere above them. "Maker! What happened to them?"

Tristan rolled onto his back, still laughing uncontrollably. "Hi Aveline, care for a dance?"

The Guard Captain shook her head quickly. "I'd really rather not, thank you. It looks somewhat dangerous,"

Isabela pushed herself to her feet and offered Tristan a hand up. "With Tristan it is," she said ruefully, still smiling.

Anders grinned. "That was probably the reason he never got a dance at Winter Solstice Mage's Ball,"

"The Circle had balls?" Abby asked curiously, turning towards Anders.

"Just one," the blonde mage replied. "They tried it out one year, but as I recall, the Knight Commander banned any future dances after that,"

Tristan rolled his eyes. "You're one to talk Anders. You never got a dance either that night. I remember because neither of us actually attended the ball. While everyone else was dancing you, me and Surana were scaling down the tower walls. That's why Greogoir banned any future dances. He claimed it distracted the Templars from their duties,"

"You mean you once tried to escape?" Leandra moved towards them, her eyes filled with pity.

Anders laughed. "Once?" he repeated incredulously. "I think Tristan may actually be the only person in the tower who's had almost as many escape attempts as I did,"

Leandra looked horrified. "How awful," she murmured.

Tristan gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. It all worked out for the best,"

"Exactly," Anders interjected. "Now that you're free of the circle you can attend as many dances as you want,"

"Maker, that reminds me! You two have to get going!" Leandra gasped, glancing at the window to gauge how late it was. She dusted Tristan's doublet off with motherly affection. "Honestly Tristan! I'd forgotten how unruly boys could be," she complained. She gave him a slight shove towards the entrance way. "Go on! You're going to be late! You'll make sure they get there safely, won't you Aveline?"

Aveline looked a little uncomfortable. She wasn't nearly as proficient a liar as he and Abigail were.

"I… uhh… of course. Of course I will, Leandra,"

She glared at Tristan, jerking her head towards the door in a let's-get-out-of-here-now motion. Abby took the hint.

"Goodnight then mother," she said sweetly. "I'll be back later. Don't wait up!"

"Goodnight my darlings," Leandra replied happily. "And good luck!"

Tristan heaved a sigh of relief as they stepped out into the brisk night air.

"Finally," he muttered, shrugging off the expensive embroidered doublet that Leandra had had tailored for him. He turned to watch as Abigail withdrew their staffs and their clothes from where she had hidden them beneath a cart just outside the front door of her estate. She tossed Tristan his staff and he caught it deftly.

"Where are we getting changed?" she asked, her fingers playing with the seam of her dress. "I need to get out of this thing,"

"We can use Fenris's mansion," Isabela suggested. "It's close enough,"

"Good idea," Abby nodded in approval. "Let's go,"

She led the way through the deserted streets of Hightown and Tristan trailed just behind her, glancing around with interest as they walked. The Amell estate was situated in the Hightown square, a stone's throw away from the pale stone steps that led into the Viscount's Keep. They crossed through the Chantry Courtyard and took the staircase up to the Hightown Estates. Fenris's mansion was next door to the DuPuis Estate. After a few, incessant knocks, elf opened the door for them, and the five of them slipped inside his entrance hall.

Aveline nudged the remains of a broken flower pot with her boot. "And I wonder why the rest of the nobles aren't happy with you living here," she sighed. "Can't you present yourself better Fenris?"

"This way," Isabela said, as the elf and the Guard Captain began to argue. She led them through the entrance hall and up the stairs towards the bedrooms. Tristan took the guestroom on the left, while Isabela and Abby slipped into the rightmost bed chamber to change. Ten minutes later they were all outside once more, staring across at the door to the DuPreis Estate.

"I feel a little bad for the poor guy," Tristan sighed. "I mean, for all we know he could be an ordinary old citizen. How certain is this Emeric about any of this?"

"It's just a hunch, I guess," Abby admitted. "But there's no harm in checking him out,"

Tristan glanced back towards the house, his brows furrowing as he considered it. It looked much like any other Hightown estate; built from heavy white stone and flowing seamlessly into the buildings around it. The entrance was hidden in the alcove of two large pillars and shrouded on either side by a tall conifer tree. His gaze travelled higher, scanning the shuttered windows above for any sign of life. The place appeared to be empty.

"Come on," Abby gestured impatiently towards the doorway. "Let's get this over with," she strode towards the reinforced wooden door, pushing against it experimentally. "Locked," she sighed. "Isabela?"

The pirate smirked. "You mean you can't open that? I could have that door open in less than five seconds,"

"Impossible," Aveline growled, crossing her arms disbelievingly across her chest. "No one is that fast,"

"Care to wager on that?" Isabela asked impishly. The Guard Captain's brows furrowed as she waged an internal battle with herself. Her moral side was no doubt screaming at her that gambling was wrong, while the rest of her would love nothing more than a chance to beat the pirate captain at anything.

"Fine," she said eventually, still glaring. "I'll give you till the count of three to get yourself ready. If that door is not open five seconds after I finish counting, you owe me a sovereign,"

"Done," Isabela replied instantly. She sidled a little closer to Tristan.

"One…" Aveline counted slowly, watching her with undisguised suspicion.

"Say Amell, do you know that spell which bashes into stuff?" Isabela murmured to him. He nodded his head.

"A golem's fist?"

"Two…"

"Yea, that,"

"What about it?"

"Three!"

Isabela pointed to the door. "Cast one there," she ordered.

Without thinking, he shot a glance towards the door, shattering it into mere splinters of wood with nothing more than a flick of his fingers. Abigail froze, her blue eyes growing impossibly wide as she stared.

"Dear burning Andraste…" she hissed. "That was… impressive,"

Isabela smirked. "Door's open," she said cheerfully.

"Cheating pirate whore," Aveline muttered in disgust, handing over the sovereign.

Tristan sighed, annoyed with himself for – as Wynne had always called it – casting before thinking.

"A city full of Templars and you have me using my magic for your amusements," he grumbled to Isabela. "Just so we're clear, when they make me Tranquil, I'm blaming you,"

"Hey!" she cried, looking deeply affronted. "Who came to your rescue last week?"

"Uhh… Cullen?" he offered, biting back his grin.

The pirate stamped on his foot with one booted foot. "Me, you goose!" she snapped, looking even more irritated when the Warden Commander did not wince in pain at her assault, but continued to smirk at her.

"Come on you two," Abby sighed, picking her way delicately over the shattered remains of the door. "It's time to have a little chat with our man DuPreis,"

"Oh sure," Tristan grumbled sarcastically, following after his cousin. "We're going to chat with him. That's why all six of us are brandishing weapons," he groaned. "Do you think they can still arrest us for breaking and entering if we have the Guard Captain aiding and abetting us?"

The red-head scowled at him. "I'm not above the law, you know,"

"Quiet!" Anders hissed. "I think I heard something,"

They paused just within the front entrance of the estate, glancing around uncertainly into the shadows.

"We'll split up," Abby said quietly. "Isabela, Aveline and I will go one way, Fenris, Anders, you guys go with Tristan. Scout around, meet back here when you're done,"

They split off, each group taking a different door. Tristan led the way up a flight of stairs, arriving in what looked to be a library of sorts. He had barely taken two steps inside the room when a rage demon burst out of the floor in a wave of fire.

"Demons!" Anders yelled, pulling his staff free. Within seconds the room was swamped with shades. Fenris lunged unhesitatingly into the fray, leaving Anders and Tristan to back him up from behind. Grabbing his staff, Tristan quickly sent a chain lightning flying into their midst. He froze the remainder with an ice spell.

"Is it just me?" Anders muttered. "Or have your spells seriously improved since the circle?"

"I picked up quite a bit during the blight," Tristan shrugged. "I had to," he glanced at Fenris. "You okay?"

The elf nodded. "If this man is summoning demons to his aid, then he's obviously not quite as innocent as you thought," he pointed out.

Tristan shrugged his shoulders, grinning. "If I had silver for every time someone turned into a demon summoning psychopath…" he joked, leading the way back out of the room. "Let's find the girls and make sure they're okay,"

They continued forwards rather than retracing their steps, occasionally pausing to investigate a room or clear out another group of demons. The house was flooded with them. Still, they had no sign of Abby, Aveline and Isabela. Tristan was about to suggest they head back to the front entrance of the house, when he suddenly heard the sound of soft, whimpering sobs coming from the within the room ahead. He motioned for silence and they moved cautiously forwards. He pressed one hand against the door, surprised when it swung easily open. A tall, sandy-haired man towered over a cowering woman. From the look of his clothes, Tristan gathered this must be the nobleman they were looking for.

"DuPuis I presume?" Tristan called, striding inside the room. The woman stared up at him, her tear-filled eyes brimming with hope.

"But you're not… I know what this looks like!" DuPuis said quickly. "I can explain!"

"He hurt me!" the woman sobbed. Gascard turned on her impatiently.

"I told you, I only took a little of your blood. I'm trying to protect you!"

"Get away from me!" she cried. Pushing herself to her feet, she hurriedly stumbled from the room.

"Follow her," Tristan told Anders quietly. "Make sure she's okay, and try getting some answers out of her,"

Nodding, the blonde mage quickly exited the room after her.

"I can explain," Gascard repeated, a little desperately.

"He'll say anything to save his skin," Fenris growled. "Kill him and be done with it. He's a blood mage,"

Tristan grimaced. He almost agreed with the elf. If there was one thing he abhorred, it was blood magic. He could already feel his magic hissing inside of him, ready to be unleashed upon the cowering nobleman.

"No," he said quietly, shaking his head. "We'll wait for Abby. Let her decide,"

…..

"Do you think we made a mistake?" Abigail asked softly.

Tristan lifted his eyes wearily to meet his cousin's gaze. The same question had been whirling around and around his head ever since they left the DuPuis Estate. Either Gascard had been telling them the truth, or he was a particularly gifted story teller. Abigail had taken him on his word and let him go, but Tristan wasn't so sure. Innocent men didn't summon demons and kidnap women. He drummed his fingertips against the hard wood of the table he sat at, his eyes wandering around the worn tavern as he considered what they had discovered that night. He, Abby and Isabela had decided to end the night off on a round of drinks at the Hanged Man, leaving Aveline, Fenris and Anders to their own whims back in Hightown.

"I still think we should have gotten rid of him, just to be sure," Isabela muttered, echoing Tristan's own sentiments. "The man had demons guarding his house like mabari. That's not normal,"

Abby massaged her temples with her fingertips, sighing. "We can't just kill people for not being normal. We'd be knee deep in blood if we did that,"

"Agreed," Tristan replied, his lips twisting into a small smile. "Look, it's done now. There's no use worrying about it. We know where he is should we need to find him again," he lifted his hand up, ordering another round of drinks for the table. He wasn't sure how much watered down ale they had already consumed that night, but it certainly hadn't been enough to lift their collectively sombre moods.

A barmaid approached them, giving Tristan a beaming smile as she set the jug down on the worn wooden table. He managed a feeble smile in return for the sake of politeness, and she blushed.

"Allow me to refill your mug, Messere," she offered, leaning forwards before he could object and offering him a generous view of her bosom. His eyes remained steadily on her face, still keeping his polite smile in place. Years of woman throwing themselves at him had left Tristan almost immune to even the most lewd of advances.

"I think you have another admirer," Isabela remarked, winking at Tristan.

He groaned, shaking his head. "I'll pass,"

"I'm starting to worry about you," the pirate said, narrowing her golden brown eyes at him. "The last thing we need is another Sebastian,"

Tristan rolled his eyes to the ceiling, grimacing. "Trust me – I'm not Sebastian. I just don't want her,"

"Then who do you want?" Abby asked curiously, resting her chin in her palm as she stared at him.

Who do I want? He silently sighed. He lifted his hand, idly toying with the amulet that hung around his neck. Between the blight, rebuilding the Grey Wardens, and now Umbra, he hadn't had a chance to think about any sort of romance for a long time. Sure there had been flings, casual love affairs and one night stands, but never anything more serious than that. A part of him was terrified of the idea of love, of finding someone that he couldn't bear to lose. His life was easier without unnecessary attachments.

"Who do I want?" he repeated, glancing back to Abby. He hummed thoughtfully. "Meredith." he said eventually, smirking at the very idea.

"That might be a little difficult to arrange, sweet thing," Isabela chuckled. "Although, there is a very talented woman at the Blooming Rose who looks remarkably like her…"

Abby choked on her ale, her face growing red.

"Please tell me you haven't…?" she trailed off, staring at her best friend in horror.

Isabela laughed even harder. "Maker, no," she reassured her. "The last thing I would ever want to find in my bed is the Knight Commander – look alike or not,"

"The Blooming Rose?" Tristan asked, glancing between the girls.

Isabela's eyes snapped up to his. "Kirkwall's finest," she said with a smirk. "Our local whorehouse,"

Tristan leaned backwards, threading his hands comfortably behind his head. "Can't be better than The Pearl,"

"Mmm… I have such good memories of that place," Isabela said, sighing contentedly.

"I'm assuming this is another whorehouse?" Abby asked, glancing between the two of them.

"How could you not know about The Pearl?" Isabela demanded, her gold eyes wide with surprise. "You were from Ferelden!" she added accusingly.

Abigail chuckled, shaking her head. "Ferelden is a big place. I never even saw Denerim. I lived my entire life in Lothering,"

Tristan winced, remembering the tiny rural village packed to bursting with refugees. He couldn't imagine living in a place more dull.

"Wow," he commented. "I think I'm actually grateful I was raised in the Circle. At least there we had the off chance of someone turning into an abomination to liven things up,"

Hawke raised one perfectly shaped brow. "Are you calling Lothering boring?" she demanded.

"Well that depends…" he replied evenly. "What's the most fun thing you ever did there?"

At this Abby's brow furrowed as she no doubt searched through years and years of tedious farm life for some sort of interesting past event. Tristan's lips curled into a smirk as he waited.

"Hey, there's Fenris," Isabela suddenly said, distracting the pair of mages. She pointed to the other end of the bar and Tristan half turned in his seat, following the direction of her finger to a lanky, white haired elf. When he turned back, Isabela was grinning knowingly across at Abby.

"He must be here for you," she taunted.

Hawke shook her head. "That's silly. He might just be here for a drink. It was a tough night,"

The Rivaini pirate made a rude noise of disbelief. "Oh please. He hates this place. I've never seen him set a foot inside while you aren't here,"

Abby pushed herself to her feet, still shaking her head. "If he is looking for me, there might be something wrong. I should go and speak with him,"

"Good idea," Isabela responded, still grinning wickedly.

"You have got to be kidding me," Tristan said flatly, as soon as Hawke was out of earshot. Isabela looked surprised.

"What's wrong?"

"Abby and Fenris," he replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in their direction. Isabela's smile only widened. "No," Tristan said firmly. "No way,"

"Oh come on! Why not?" she leaned towards him as she spoke, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "You know what they say about men who wear shackles, don't you?"

"No and I really, really don't want to know!" he protested, quickly pressing his fingers to her lips to stop her from producing the undoubtedly sordid punch line to her little joke. She smirked as he pulled his hand away.

"I'll save that one for Hawke then," she told him and he felt a momentary pang of guilt for passing one of Isabela's jokes along to his unsuspecting cousin. "Oh come on Amell," the pirate persisted. "What's wrong with the two of them doing…?" The rest of her words were muffled as Tristan once again slammed his hand against her mouth.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the rest of your sentence might have scarred me for life had I let you complete it," he told her. Still keeping his hand firmly against her lips to ward off any other profanities that might escape from her, he continued. "Fenris hates mages. Abigail unfortunately happens to be a mage. Abby is also a really good person while Fenris sort of strikes me as a violent guy. They wouldn't work," he stated adamantly.

Isabela lifted her hand, gently tugging Tristan's fingers away from her mouth. Reluctantly, he released her.

"Can I just say one thing?"

"That depends… Is it safe to hear?"

The pirate nibbled at her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I think so,"

Tristan sighed. "Let's have it then,"

She raised one hand, pointing across the bar to the empty space where Fenris and Abigail had been standing only moments before.

"They just left together… Wonder what they're going to do? Alone… In the middle of the night…"

The Warden Commander covered his face with his hands, shaking his head in agony. "Dear Maker Isabela… I'm going to have to buy you a gag,"