Hawke darted and moved through her forms, panting softly as she swung the daggers, impacting with the dummy. She rolled and continued the assault, flowing to kick high with nimble grace. Her arm jarred as she stabbed the wood, reminiscent of stabbing stone - of the Deep Roads. She cried out and threw her shoulder into the motion, cracking part of the training dummy.

Stalking to the next target, she threw her daggers down and punched the bag, breathing hard through her nose as she bloodied her fists on the stuffed post. She flowed and snapped into a series of kicks, snagging another dagger from the small of her back to draw across an imaginary throat. Flipping backward, she kipped off her hands and landed on one of the crates in the cellar. Scarce hesitating, she dove forward, rolling to her blades to rise into a series of slashes and stabs on the training dummy.

Wheezing, Hawke was about to stop when a rush of energy tingled through her limbs, and her eyes brightened. She spun around as she heard her mabari whimper. Anders was sitting on the steps.

"Remind me not to piss you off," he murmured, ruffling the dog's ears. The hound got up as Hawke sheathed her daggers, running to lick his mistress' wrapped hands and face as she knelt.

"How long have you been there?" she asked breathlessly.

Anders shrugged, "Depends what you're asking. Twenty minutes? All night? A few months?"

"Smart ass," she grinned, strolling over to him. She pulled the leather tie out of her hair, shaking her dark brown tresses loose.

"Better than a dumb ass," he murmured, linking his arms around her thighs to pull her close. "Isn't that what you always say?"

"Quite, but using magic on me here in the manor." Hawke smiled tiredly, running her hands into his hair. "Might not be the brightest. You could have gotten my attention in another way. If I'd known, I might have sauntered over to see you sooner."

"I should have said something," Anders replied. "You have been pushing yourself very hard. You needed it, look at your hands."

"I feel better when I'm tired. Less thinking," Hawke said, as he turned over her fist and kissed her knuckles. "Unless you can think of another way to tire me out?"

Anders squeezed her thighs, sighing as the mabari came and insinuated himself between them. "I'm not sure his grace would be pleased."

Hawke whistled and pointed up the stairs, "To the barracks with you! Find Aveline."

The mabari sat on his haunches a moment before grousing and trotting off.

"I'm tempted to traumatize the help," Hawke breathlessly said, fingers in his hair again. "Though perhaps bending me over a table in the library would be less damaging."

Hawke pushed him back and easily evaded his grasp, up the steps into the house. It took him a minute to find her in the library. Anders shut the door behind him as she took off her belt and sheaths and left them on the floor. He caught her wrist and pinned her for a kiss, edging her back against the bookshelf.

"The smell of parchment and books," he whispered against her lips, closing his eyes as her mouth sunk into his neck. "Reminds me of the Circle in Ferelden."

"Oh?" Hawke said in a breath, laying her head back against the shelf as she undid his coat.

"Sadly I don't wear the robes I used to," he murmured, lips over the sweat on her skin as he ran a hand up her thigh. "And no one's watching."

"I could call for Bodahn," Hawke snickered, and almost yelped when he bit her. She laughed, "Or Sandal? Let's not traumatize Orana."

"No audience, please," Anders smirked, and she leant into his hands as she kicked her trousers down. He pinned them on the floor, and she tugged free of them. Kissing her lips hungrily once more, he sunk down to his knees, taking her smalls with him.

Hawke made a soft sound of surprise as she leant back against the books, feeling Anders kiss the sweaty curve of her hip as he linked he leg over his shoulders. "No, no audience I think."

"We always had to stay quiet," he murmured, trailing his tongue over her pelvis. She tensed in reply, and he wrapped an arm around her thigh. "Can you, Marian?"

"Keep my mouth shut?" she inhaled, trying to steady a hand on the bookshelf as he plucked at her inner thigh with his lips. "Maker, you're cruel."

Anders sighed and buried his face between her thighs, breathing deep before his fingers dragged over the dampness there. "I keep telling you, I'm no good."

"I don't know," she whispered, rising on her toe as his tongue found home. She half-sat on the shelf beneath her, hips urging to his mouth, "Seem damned good to me."

Hawke clutched his hair, choking her moan away as she laid her head back again. Breathing over her sex, Ander's lapped and swirled his tongue, bearing her weight on his shoulder as she tensed. He closed his eyes, soaking up the scent before burying his fingers in her and eliciting a louder groan. When she leant more heavily into the shelving, the wood fractured, and she fell down an inch.

"Shit," Hawke almost laughed, trying to subdue her grin as he pressed deeper, suckling the nub at the fount of her sex. She tugged his hair, urging her hips and tightening her slender leg around his shoulder, drawing a chuckle from him. "Breaking the décor."

Anders fell back on his knees, wiping his mouth and stubble as he looked up to her, met with a devious glint in her eyes. Hawke kicked her trousers further away, scratching her hand atop his head to urge him up. She kissed him quick, his hands snaking under loosened armour to devour her skin at much the same time her own fingers tugged open his belt. He shucked his coat, tossing it on the ground as she knelt into one of the armchairs.

Resting her knee on the arm of the chair, Hawke snagged his shirt as Anders pressed up against her back. His hands wound up her abdomen, snagging over her clothes until he cradled his fingers against her throat. She reached through her legs to guide him to her, breathing in sharply as he kissed her neck and filled her. Eyes closed, she braced herself on the back of the chair, held in his arms as he thrust up into her.

Turning her head all she could, Hawke kissed him, drawing a deep moan as Anders gripped her tighter. It gave him leverage, holding her body as their tongues twine, flavoured from her sex. When she pulled away to breath, he buried his face in her hair, panting and closing his eyes.

"Marian," he groaned, possessively clutching her as he thrust in, and she quivered, pressing back against him. He could smell the sweat and sun in her hair, and he kissed her leather-clad shoulder, exhaling sharply through his nose.

Hawke shuddered, closing her eyes to the fatigue of her body and falling into the delicious shiver that drove it all away. It made the world melt, the mages, templars and death gone, just leaving the feel of his body and the need in his hands over the rush of her pulse. Her thoughts dissolved into his sighs.

When they were spent and collapsed, Anders pulled her into his lap, eyes closed as he breathed roughly. Their naked thighs stuck together, and Hawke tucked her head against his neck, fingers over the Tevinter Chantry amulet that hung there.

"I love you," she whispered drowsily.

"I know," he replied, closing his hand over hers and the amulet. He almost sounded pained. "I love you."

"They act like it's all the mages fault! But if Meredith and her templars would just treated them respectfully like human beings, none of this would happen!" Hawke snapped, clenching her hands into fists.

"Is it any wonder I love you?" Anders replied, putting his head in his hand as he watched her.

Hawke almost smiled, but the set of her determined chin didn't change, "Shouldn't be a wonder, you should be grateful. Someone as heroic, amazing and well-spoken as me."

"And so very modest," he murmured as Varric laughed. It was then Fenris walked in, and they all tensed a bit.

"What took you so long?" Hawke asked, crossing her arms. The tattooed elf was unfazed.

"I am not a dog at your beck and call," he coldly said, narrowing his eyes.

"No," she amended, "His grace keeps his appointments far better."

"Though there is something lacking for the smell," Varric said, smiling as Edwina arrived with a tray of drinks and bread. "Thank you, beautiful."

"Hmph," the woman rolled her eyes and disappeared back into the hall.

"So why did you want me here, Hawke?" Fenris asked, crossing his arm in a mirror of her stance.

Closing her eyes and lowering her hackles, Hawke rest a hand on the mantle and sighed, "You're very good with a blade, Fenris. And Maker knows why, I trust you at my back."

"Perhaps some part of you knows I am right," he replied, looking at Anders. "And you will see that the path you follow only causes others to suffer."

"I didn't ask you here for a lecture," Hawke said, looking at him again.

"No," Fenris said, "Why would I be allowed to give one? Though perhaps your mother might have done well to heed my words."

"Don't even go there," Anders said, standing out of his chair. "You have no right."

"Don't I?" he replied. "Leandra Amell deserved better than she got. And if it hadn't been for the mage that butchered her, she would still be alive. Tell me if she's better off without magic."

Hawke turned with nimble grace, but caught herself and tightened her hand into a fist. She grated her teeth, "It isn't magic that killed her – and I know that. Nor will I blame every mage for what happened to her. I wouldn't blame every swordsman if she'd been stabbed in the street."

"No, but you'd certainly be more cautious of your family walking them," Fenris nodded.

"Then lock me up, because I am bloody good with my daggers," Hawke waved a hand, snagging one of the flagons of ale to drink and quiet herself.

"Come on, Broody," Varric appealed, "Let me buy you a drink."

"You can't simply placate me that way. At least not with the swill they serve here," Fenris said, watching Hawke stalk back towards Anders. "It is hardly the same, Hawke."

"You seem to know so much about the qunari, Fenris," Hawke said as she slouched into her chair, her armour clunking. Her eyes were dark, deep circles around them. "Is not my blade a piece of me? My very soul? Is that not the same as magic – should I not be held just as accountable for my actions with it?"

"And you would be, if you were not slaying criminals that prey on the weak," He nodded, leaning on the wall.

"Shouldn't anyone who takes up a blade – who wields their soul – be thought of as just as dangerous as a mage? Any of us can kill, I can make you bleed and suffer, and I am not a mage. Why am I given the choice and they are not?"

"No matter how hard you try, you will not simply become an abomination because of your sword," Fenris said.

"I don't know," Varic idly said, rubbing the oiled cloth down Bianca. "I'm inclined to think anyone using a sword is a bit of an abomination - an affront to such a fine lady. But then, you're one of a kind."

"Do you really have to touch her like that?" Hawke bridged a hand over her brow. "In front of us?"

The dwarf shrugged, putting his foot up on another chair. "My minx needs the attention she deserves. Especially when things get tense." Hawke rolled her eyes and they were all silent, save for Varric, who started humming as he tended to his life partner.

"I just don't get it, Fenris," Hawke finally said. "You were a slave. You were forced into things you didn't want, you fight against injustice. How are mages justly treated?"

"The Chantry is corrupt beyond persuasion," Anders added, nodding. "Andraste was more than a martyr against magic, she was a slave. Would she want this? Would she want another set of slave quarters – because that's what the Circles are." When Fenris shook his head, he continued, "What would she think of what the world that has been wrought in her name? It's just another set of damned chains for another pair of hands. We are no better – the Chantry is no better. At least Tevinter doesn't hide what they are."

"Do not speak to me of things that you cannot comprehend," Fenris pointed at Anders, growing rigid. "The things that magisters do… you have no idea."

"At least they aren't hypocritical!"

Fenris bristled and shook his head.

"The Chantry lives anathema to everything Andraste strove for," Hawke interjected. "It wasn't concentrated on action against mages, against magic – it was concentrated on the subjugation of her people under the thumbs of slavers and the Imperium." She drank the rest of her flagon, spinning it empty onto the table, "Something I'm sure you can appreciate, Fenris."

The elf closed his eyes and finally sighed, his arms still crossed, "There is much wrong with the world and how it is run."

"You can say that again," Anders said, looking as Hawke touched his hand. "I just want to be given the chance to be good – I want mages to be given the chance."
Hawke nodded, "You teach a child to lift a sword, to not put his hand in an open flame, and mages need that too. To be schooled in their life, but not imprisoned for something they had no choice in. They deserve the right to choose between good and evil." Shaking her head, Hawke stood up, "They need knowledge. Like all of us."