Chapter 9

"Good, good. Now hold it steady. Breathe in. Now breathe out. Feel the weight of the object in your mind. Acknowledge it and now make it move slowly towards the sound of my voice. Slowly. Slower. Slower than that. Too fast, too fast!"

Hurriedly, I hit the floor with my arms clamped tight over my head as the tool we were using for a test subject zoomed at a break necking speed –literally- where I was standing a moment before. A crash of glass followed and a yell of protest from outside made me rise and stare out the now broken window. From across the road an elderly gentleman stooped to pick up the heavy tome that knocked him in the head. He rubbed the forming bump and looked up to see me before I could jump out of view. He lifted his walking stick and began to yell creative obscenities in my direction that I made a note to remember. They were quite imaginative.

"I'm sorry, Lord Reinhardt!" I yelled the apology safely from the second story. "I was very unsatisfied with the ending of that book! Maria should have married the gallant Ser Geoffrey and not run off with her ex-husband's best friend who everyone thought was dead for fourteen years! A great read, though! You should give it a try!"

I snatched the silk ties that held the curtains open and satisfactorily watched them close on the Lord's reddening face.

"I-I am sorry. I tried, but it runned away."

"Ran," I absently corrected.

Turning away from the holey window, I smiled at Orel's guilty look for having broken another piece of fragile material in the Hawke household. Mother still gave me a dirty look for the vase I supposedly cracked last Thursday. Since then, I made Orel practice with things that were not as precious such as one of the questionable books Isabella stowed away in the numerous bookshelves where she thought I wouldn't notice them.

It had been three weeks, almost an entire month since I let Orel and Orana into my home and I'd been stuffed with freshly made meat pies ever since the elvhan girl practically took over the kitchen. She couldn't quite make anything else outside of pastries, but I sure as hell wasn't complaining and neither was my belly. Orel, who I learned was actually twelve years old and not a teenager like I first thought, definitely kept me on my toes when I agreed to help him with his magic. Nearly every day we practiced while Mother was out and again later at night once she had gone to bed. The boy was making astonishing leaps. He was a natural. Unfortunately, I was fast running out of the basics to teach him before I was forced to delve into specificities of a field I didn't know much about. Arcane magic, his greatest strength, was not my forte.

"Don't worry about Reinhardt," I assured him when he still looked like I kicked his puppy or something. "I never liked him anyway. He's been trying to marry his daughter off to me and after that little stunt I think I've been moved down the list of potential suitors. I should probably be thanking you."

Orel still found the floor too fascinating to even look up at me. I smiled in amusement and bent down to his level with my hand on his shoulder.

The elvhan boy wrung his fingers together in nervousness. "But…I brokes things again."

Along with my new role of magical instructor, I also became a language professor for both Orana and Orel. Neither of them knew how to read or write and Orel could barely speak English, so sometimes I spent the night explaining how little Jimmy pet the pretty kitty to both the fascinated elves. Orel was picking up the language quickly.

"Hey," I called to get his attention. He lifted his tear-stained eyes. "Really, it's fine; it gives Bodahn something to do." Orel chuckled, knowing how the old dwarf liked to fuss over the smallest details. "That's better. Now, c'mon, let's take a break. I'm sure that Orana has something delicious baked for lunch."

His cheeky smile grew even larger at the idea of a good meal. A pale hand snatched a hanging cord from where he carefully placed it on the banister of the staircase before we started our lessons and slipped it around his neck. Settling heavily in the dip of his collarbone, my amateurish attempt at enchanting an object on the fly quickly vanished beneath Orel's tunic as he lovingly tucked it in. When I offered to make him a newer, certainly better looking glyph the boy adamantly refused to exchange it. He insisted on keeping the half-melted stone saying that I gave him a gift. No one had given him a gift before and proceeded to wrap a left over piece of string the local butcher used to tie the parchment paper he wrapped meat in around the rock so Orel could wear it like a necklace. I could only shake my head at his stubbornness and made the condition that the glyph had to touch his skin and remain out of sight, especially around a nosy mage who bemoaned the fact my knife was destroyed in the battle with Hadriana.

The man still bitched about my "careless" and "idiotic" actions even three weeks later. When I rehashed the tale for Varric, the dwarf thought my idea was ingenious if a little visceral. I glowed in his praise; Anders merely snorted at my pleased look and proceeded to explain that visceral meant impulsive or primitive. I shot back over my tankard of ale that Varric still called me a genius so the ex-Grey Warden could shut his pie-hole. He had to have the last word by muttering under his breath how I was the most "puerile, inarguably frustrating man". I stuck my tongue out in response. Understanding why the both of them smirked superiorly only came after I learned what "puerile" meant. Bastards, the both of them.

A tugging on my hand pulled me from my thoughts.

"Come, Master Hawke! Smells good!"

I smiled lightly at his exuberance, but sighed at his persistent habit of calling me Master. If Fenris ever heard…I cocked my head to the side in thought. I hadn't seen the elf since our little…disagreement three weeks ago deep in the holding caves. It seemed we were still playing "if we ignore the problem it will go away", and Fenris was playing to win.

Damn, that elf really got underneath my skin. He was so frustrating, close-minded, and one of the few people whose opinion I valued. But really, why should I give a rat's ass what he thought of me? I shouldn't care if he despised the fact I sympathized with mages, took in a couple of Tevinter slaves, or could cause a lightning storm with just a blink…

Shit. I did care what the surly jackass thought.

He was a good man, just ignorant of what good mages were capable of instead of destruction the swordsman identified my kind with. Mentally I sighed as Orel dragged me down the stairs towards the kitchen. For a long while I tried to figure out why my ancestor was so inexorably drawn to Fenris, but I figured it out. Garret Hawke and Fenris were nearly identical. They would've been fools to not see the common spark between them, and it somewhat troubled me that I would never feel that shot of electricity to my heart. Yes, I may look like Garret, but our souls were so different. Our thoughts, actions, morals, and even our sense of humor differed so greatly that I felt not even a jolt when I looked at the scarred elf. It was sad to think about at night when I laid in bed all alone; probably why sleep hadn't come easy for me since I dropped –literally- into the past.

Suddenly, there was a pounding on the heavy wooden door to the Amell Mansion. Bodahn, who had taken it upon himself to organize my letters since I refused to, looked up from his vellum pile to walk over and let in whoever came to visit.

"Don't worry, Bodahn. I got it," I said and waved him gently off

The aging dwarf nodded. "As you wish, serah." He bowed slightly although he knew it annoyed me to no end.

I rolled my eyes as he returned to his work. Orel glanced curiously up at me. "Should go?" He asked while pointing off in the direction of the kitchen where Orana was most likely working on lunch.

"Yeah, just in case. Why don't you go snitch something from Orana?"

He smiled enthusiastically and didn't wait another second to dash off to the source of the smell of fresh-baked bread. I didn't blame him. I was about to do the same.

I opened the door. Varric stood in front of me with a worrying smirk. Well, worrying for me, cocky for him. His smile grew wider when he saw me sigh dramatically and cross my arms over my chest.

"Can I help you with something, Varric?" I drawled as I leaned against the molding of the doorway.

He chuckled. "Well, it's just a small, little bitty favor."

Little favor my ass.

"So we just have to sneak by seven bandits who are camped in an open field in broad daylight and are armed with many sharp objects that make my innards cringe, pick the lock on a chest located in the middle of their surrounded camp, sneak back out with…what do we need again?"

"Log books."

"Right, to see if that lyrium idol was sold by Bartrand within the past few months. See, Varric, I was listening. Anyway, after we steal the log books we have to get out without anyone noticing because they have a blood mage!"

"Did I offend your delicate disposition, Lady Hawke? And keep it down, there's a blood mage down there."

"I know," I snarled, but in a whisper. "What I don't understand is why you think this is a brilliant idea?"

Lying on his belly with Bianca strapped carefully across his back, Varric peered from the overhang out to the group of outlaws who laughed obnoxiously at something someone said. Their smell alone could do someone damage, let alone what their swords and knives could do to a dwarf and human.

"I mean, do you realize how outnumbered we are?"

Varric mumbled something under his breath.

"Come again?"

The crossbowman spoke up. "I might have underestimated their numbers a bit," he finally admitted.

I buried my head in my crossed arms and groaned. "A bit, Varric? Why did we rush out to the Wounded Coast without any backup?"

Varric's nerves might have been a little frayed because he looked at me and explained slowly enough that even a retarded child would have no difficulty following.

"Because, Hawke, you and Elf are still having that hissy fit you think no one else knows about, Blondie has been busy with that wet cough that's been spreading around Darktown, we're doing something illegal so Aveline is out, Rivaini wasn't around, and Daisy won't leave that mirror alone to even get some sunshine."

Well, it wasn't as if me avoiding even looking at Fenris was subtle, but the part about hunting down shady conmen was illegal confused me. Did we need a license or something?

But wait. He asked everyone else before me? "…so you came to me last?" Wow, I didn't know how that made me feel.

Varric rolled his eyes. "Are you pouting now? Really Hawke, you have more mood swings than a woman."

Someone was in a snappy mood. He really wasn't doing a great job on convincing me to commit suicide via stupidity, either. I couldn't just walk away from this, though. I owed Varric a great deal…well Garrett Hawke did, but that made his selfless acts no less heroic in my eyes. The surface dwarf really did a great deal for those he cared about. He looked out for naïve Merrill who still didn't understand that walking around at night in Lowtown was a very bad idea and he also bribed the thugs in Darktown to stay away from Anders' clinic. Varric would never admit it, but he truly had the cliché heart of gold. So covering his flank as he mindlessly charged into danger was the least I could do.

Besides, this was for family. I understood how that became a blind-spot in your life. Of course, Varric wanted to kill his brother and I could understand that too.

I gave in. "Alright, Varric, how are we going to do this? Wait 'til dark?"

Varric looked back out to the celebrating marauders who began to break out their stores of questionable alcohol. Only a few however indulged themselves, others took to making our lives harder by using the locked chest that Varric wanted to get into as a convenient seat. Shit.

"We can't wait that long. Their disadvantage will be ours too. Unless you can pick a lock in the dark?"

I gave him a mocking half-bow from my sprawled out position. "I leave the rogue skills up to you, my friend. I'm just the muscle to your brains."

A familiar smirk worked itself up to Varric's mouth. "I might just have to take you up on that. How do you feel about distractions?"

One week, just one bloody week I would like to not meet crazy blood mages. It seemed that they all had a screw loose somewhere and that made them all the more dangerous because they weren't afraid of the armored man who came yelling into their camp waving a sword above his head like a mad man. By the way, that was me.

"Take him down!" The blood mage roared from his post by the chest.

As the thugs drew their blades and quickly surrounded me I hoped that when Varric offered me up as a distraction meant the dwarf had a plan to make sure his "distraction" didn't die a painful death.

I parried a blow meant to run through my heart and traded the sneering, oily faced bandit a broken nose courtesy of the pommel of my sword. He went down with a yelp while attempting to staunch the waterfall of blood streaming from his dented face. Quickly, I turned around to avoid another strike and raised my blade in time to ward it off. The hit had my arms trembling from the force of it. I had to get my back to a wall.

An edge of a sword glanced off my shoulder guard. The bandit's opening was enough for me to kick out with my armored covered leg into his vulnerable gut and follow up with a slice to his hunched back. My blade sliced through his spinal column like butter. He dropped immediately.

The other members of the group were much warier of the mad swordsman that came charging into their camp. I had whittled down their numbers to five only because of the element of surprise, I would not be so lucky now that they had a chance to recognize the threat and act accordingly. From behind the wall of jeering faces that cut off any chance I had of escaping, the blood mage pushed himself to the front of the crowd.

My skin felt clammy. I could practically taste the gelatin that came with the whiff of blood magic. And it was strong. Fenris's tormenter, Hadriana, hadn't made my bones shiver like this mage did. He was middle-aged; silver hair peeking out from light brown sideburns. His dark chuckles did nothing to settle my nerves as he sluggishly twirled his staff. The end stabbed into the soft sand of the coast and he leaned against the top of it with a lazy smirk.

My blade did not waver as I held it in front of me like a shield with both hands gripping the hilt tightly to hide how the mage's aura caused them to shake.

"Well, well, men what do we have here, a swordsman looking to find glory in killing the infamous Evet's Marauders, perhaps? More like a little boy quivering in his father's boots." Like a prepared crowd, the thugs around the mage broke into obnoxious laughter. Dammit, I was trembling like a leaf in the wind. "You made a big mistake, boy," he said when his audience quieted down. "You've killed one of my men and for that I can't let you leave."

Anytime now, Varric, I pleaded in my mind. When rescue wasn't immediate, I pulled out my backup plan: bluff. Readjusting my sweaty grip, I let out a calming breath and matched that cocky smirk with one of my own.

"You're men?" I questioned. "I highly doubt you're the Evet of Evet's Marauders."

That superior mask the blood mage wore slipped for a moment. "Really. Are you confident with your assumption?"

I nodded. "I would bet money that you're just another one of his henchman that was sent to babysit his other minions on a task usually beneath your notice. Yet you're here. Tell me, did you do something to piss him off or am I severely overestimating your ability?"

The mage leapt forward faster than I could block and rammed the knot of his staff underneath my chin. Dark purple smoke emitted from his eyes and his voice took on the duality of one possessed by a spirit…or a demon. "Do not think to toy with me, mortal. I am powerful. More so than your puny human mind could possibly comprehend."

The men in front of me backed up a few steps when the demon rose to the surface of their leader. A hand grabbed my sword, tore it from my hands without a care of how deeply it sliced into the palm of the mage, and tossed it carelessly behind him. Small droplets of blood dribbled down my neck as fingers clenched my face tightly. It, for it was no longer purely human, turned my head from side to side as if examining a creature it hadn't seen before.

"Hmmm," it hummed, "Maybe you do know a little of what I speak. I sense great power within you, but something…," it released my face and slowly trailed its dripping hand over my right arm down to my gauntlet, "…is masking it."

A flash of its true form was my only warning before claws pierced through the reinforced leather of my gauntlet into my hand. I felt a sharp pain before being replaced by excruciating agony when the claws retracted. I felt the Containment glyphs shatter once their conduits were broken. With my back to a granite block, there weren't many options for escape. So I decided to fight instead. Desire demons, for that was what was buried beneath the surface of the possessed mage, didn't like to fight and instead preferred other…creative means to get what they wanted. With my uninjured left hand I knocked the staff out of the demon's grasp and followed up with a devastating punch.

It never landed.

Easily, the demon swiped my hand out of the air and peered at it curiously.

"How clever to hide oneself in plain sight, but I desire to taste that magic that boils just under such delectable skin," it cooed.

Its tongue peeked out from chapped lips and lightly licked up my covered fingers which would have worked quite efficiently as a seductive technique if it wasn't a forty year old scraggly mage nipping at my fingertips.

"Did somebody order a shot buffet?"

From behind me I heard the now familiar sound of Bianca's lovely spring loaded system release a deadly arrow that sunk into the chest of the sexually assaulting demon. I tore my captive arm from its grasp, but my gauntlet tangled in its extended claws. A captivating rush crashed into me hard enough to steal my breath as I felt my mana fill every vein and crackle like dancing embers. I shivered under the sudden assault.

The demon shrieked its displeasure that seemed to wake the other marauders from their stupor. They noticed my injured, weaponless figure and slowly closed in on me. Fuck, fuck, fuck where was my sword? Purple smoke draped the blood mage's figure and the demon fully took over its host. As with all Desire demons, its form was one meant to pertain to every man's fantasy. Its full figure was enough to make any woman jealous and its horns and purple tinted skin only enhanced its sexual energy that oozed from every pore. Its reptilian like tail whipped angrily behind it as the demon tore the arrow from its breast and threw it angrily to the ground.

"You will pay for that," it promised, its voice an eerie mixture of masculine and feminine tones.

Bianca fired again, but the arrow was batted away. With the Containment glyphs no longer touching my skin, I felt the evil energy the demon summoned more acutely than a non-mage and it made my stomach curdle. Black fire caressed naked legs and slithered up unblemished skin to nestle in the awaiting palm of the demon. No spell I knew of could create black fire, but I knew it wasn't anything good.

My vision blacked out around the edges until I could only see the sneer on the demon's face and the crackling fireball that was much stronger than anything I could ever create. It was going to throw that at Varric. He would die if I didn't so something to save him. My sword was nowhere within reach. However, my magic was.

It didn't take longer than a second to pour mana into my earth rune and slam my hand to the ground. With my mage-sight rune destroyed by the demon's talons, I couldn't watch my tendrils of magic travel across the ground to erupt into a wall that barely managed to block the thrown fireball. The salt infused earth melted underneath the intense heat of the demon's spell and I quickly reinforced it with a towering shield of granite that could withstand higher temperatures.

The hole in my hand took away my fireball spell, my wind and ice runes, and nicked my earthquake spell just enough to make it too dangerous to use, though it didn't stop me from using lightning which was an area I proudly held a Master in. Purring in my hand, I let the shimmering bolts twine sensuously around my fingers and right arm.

"A mage!" The cry was repeated among Evet's marauders and I knew that I couldn't let any one of them escape still alive. This secret of mine was too dangerous for them to have.

The whine of electricity accompanied the bolt as I directed it to strike the string of men conveniently lined up close enough to one another for the lightning to bounce from one person to the next. Charred flesh flooded the air with its putrid smell, but I was familiar enough with the smell to not falter. One by one they fell until only one remained who hadn't enough metallic armor to absorb the electricity effectively. He hastily threw his bow down and turned to flee. He could not run fast enough though to escape the earth that swallowed him and dragged him deeply down.

Amber light faded from the earth rune. I turned to the Desire demon whose attention was fixed solely on me. It blinked not an eye at the men's death and instead stroked provocatively along the delicate golden jewelry that decorated its throat.

"Your magic makes me shiver, mortal. Such strength you possess yet it stems not from a deal from my kind. How curious," it wondered. "I taste an exotic flavor, one I have not felt on my tongue before. It is strange."

I froze. Could it tell I wasn't from this time? Could demons feel that?

"But you could be so much stronger, my dear," it cajoled and sauntered over. "Let me make you a little proposition."

My hand rose between us with lightning crackling between my fingers. "I haven't met many demons before, but I'm not stupid enough to make a deal with one."

It chucked seductively, its confidence not diminished a bit, but warily stopped a few feet from me when I pushed more power into my rune. "Yet many have. Have you ever wondered why? They cannot all be as foolish as you believe. Could it be that I have something that all of them desired? I can offer you power, knowledge…perhaps pleasure?"

"You have nothing I want. Release the mage and I won't kill you."

"Oh, now we both know that it isn't true. For all your attempts to play the part of hero, you will kill this man regardless of your decision here."

I was silent.

Slowly it smiled and took a step closer. "I can see into your mind; it is writhing with delicious, dark secrets. Secrets that you would do anything to keep."

"Don't move," I snapped when it took another step. It was almost close enough to reach me with those talons. "Let the mage go, bitch. Now! I won't repeat myself!"

It sneered. "Do not presume to order me around, mortal. This foolish human made a deal for power and in exchange I walk outside the Fade. It was a fair bargain. You can do nothing to change that."

"I can kill you."

"You will destroy me as well as this vessel," it warned

Purple light encased my hand from the mana I flooded the rune with and lightning screamed as I pushed the multiple bolts I collected during our entire conversation towards the possessed mage. The demon locked its black eyes on me. Words were uttered but the shrieking bolts drowned out its message. A second before the lightning impaled the demon, it fled from its vessel and my mana opened a gaping hole in the chest of a confused mage. He dropped to his knees, the edges of the wound a smoldering black, and a look of permanent shock etched on his face. The sand cradled his fall, but the mage would not be standing up.

I stared down at him. I warned the demon that I wouldn't tell it again to release the mage from his deal although the stupid man had walked into his own death by consorting with creatures of the Fade in the first place. For a moment the fallen mage was replaced with Anders's reddish blonde hair and his slightly crooked nose. I could easily see the road the Healer was headed down because he would end up like this. Broken, with me standing over his body, my hand going into spasms from the sheer amount of electricity I created, and I would have no choice but to end his life if he continued to walk the misguided path of Vengeance.

I gave my word that I would change the future and my word was my bond.

My injured hand clenched tight as it was wracked with another tremor and I gritted my teeth together as my wound came alive with fresh pain, but I couldn't do anything until my arm went numb from the repeated exposure to pure energy. Carefully bending down, I picked up my stolen gauntlet from the loose grip of the dead blood mage and examined it with a grimace on my face. Damn, this one was ruined as well, I swore mentally at the scratches on the inside that ran across the glyphs. It was a small tear, but it was enough to neutralize all three glyphs. I tossed it to the side and weathered through another miniature seizure before standing up.

With my magic this out of control I couldn't risk going back to Kirkwall until I fixed the broken runes on my palm. I really wasn't looking forward to that herculean task. It was both painful and time consuming. I pinched my brows together with my left hand and sighed loudly.

A low whistle made my eyes snap up. Varric steadily walked along the empty coastline towards me with Bianca strapped to his back and his hands shoved into his coat to ward off the chilly sea breeze.

Well…fuck. "Any chance of you not seeing anything?" I asked despairingly.

He shook his head with a smile and pointed in the direction towards town. "You know, this outdoors thing is kinda growing on me. Like a tumor. C'mon, Hawke let's get back to Kirkwall."

"Varric, you just found out I'm a mage and you've got nothing to say about that?"

"Templars, mages, it's a lot of humans in skirts. I get them mixed up sometimes."

"No opinion at all?"

"Opinions are like testicles. You kick them hard enough, doesn't matter how many you got."

I chuckled dryly until a strong tremor shook me enough for me to grab my arm and hold on for dear life. "I'm alright," I said in response to Varric's concerned look. "It's just an aftereffect of that spell."

He nodded in understanding that I was sure was faked. "Don't you guys usually twirl a staff about? I know Blondie does, nearly took my head off one time. Where's yours?"

I sighed in relief when my arm finally went numb and I slowly released my arm. I held up my left palm for Varric's scrutiny while my right arm hung uselessly at my side. "A staff is merely used for a focus. I just skipped a step and engraved spells into my hand."

He raised an eyebrow. "Blood magic?" He asked cautiously.

"No," I shook my head negatively. "I don't make deals with demons. It's more like…soul magic I guess is the best way to explain it." My thumb tapped my pinky emblazoned with a telekinesis rune. "I tie these markings to my spirit where mana gathers in a human body."

"Sounds dangerous."

"Practically suicidal," I agreed humorously.

Varric stayed silent for a moment. He reached up to my hand and took it fearlessly into his grasp. We shook firmly. I was shocked. Wasn't he scared of what he just saw? Didn't he know I could effortlessly kill him with –literally- a snap of my fingers?

"You may have killed those guys, Hawke, but you also saved mine with your magic. I won't abandon you even if you decide to start wearin' skirts or dance naked in the moonlight," the crossbowman assured me as if he read the worries coating my mind. "Just warn me when you do, so I can sell tickets."

I could feel tears gather in my eyes and I hurriedly tried to blink them away before the dwarf made a smart-ass comment. I squeezed Varric's hand in thanks. I then gripped it a little harder and drew him closer.

"This better not end up in any of your stories, Varric," I warned.

"Why not," he whined. "The dashing hero, an expert swordsman turned mage, fights off an army of angry demonic pirates with nothing but his two bare hands, saves the captured princess, and rides off into the sunset on his trusty mabari war hound."

"Demonic pirates?"

"Hawke, whenever you go somewhere danger follows. Since we're on a beach, demonic pirates fit."

"Varric," I growled warningly.

"Alright, alright. No demonic pirates."

"And no magic."

"No magic," he agreed. "I'm still keeping the part about the princess. What's a good tale without a bit of romance?"

"A true one."

"How boring. Now c'mon, Hawke, let's see what's in that chest."