A/N

Hope everyone had a good Holiday season and New Year. I myself am just finishing up my holiday in Florida and, because the weather wasn't too great for a few days and we were stuck in with nothing to do, I commandeered the laptop and got to writing. I'm really surprised by the popularity of this story. It's certainly no epic but it's definitely the most popular story I've had in terms of views/follows/favs/kudos/comments so to everyone here and on AO3 who has done that I'm eternally grateful (I tried to get round everyone with personal thanks cause I do really appreciate it, especially comments/reviews but I'm often forgetful so if I didn't send you a PM/reply I'm thanking you here!) Chapter title comes from the song "Sweater Weather" by The Neighbourhood.

"Magic." Fenris hissed, voicing Garrett's thoughts as his lyrium tattoos thrummed a bright blue in response to the magic in the air. "Why is it that whenever I agree to come along with you, Hawke, it is into a pit of mages and demons." Garrett turned his head at being addressed, offering a wan smile in the elf's direction. His tone, at first hostile, softened ever so slightly as he voiced his irritation.

"Not always. Just mostly." He replied, his smile widening just a little when Fenris' lips tilted up ever so slightly before his expression returned - with a noticeable clearing of his throat to suppress a betraying chuckle - to its usual brooding frown. It was enough for Hawke, though. Their friendship (though he was tentative to call it such even after over a year) had been tense at first. Fenris had been - is still and probably will always be, he thought ruefully - wary of the fact that Hawke was a mage, a constant reminder of those who had enslaved him and scarred lyrium into his skin. It had taken a great amount of convincing (mostly from Varric, who had been all too happy to shoot a crossbow bolt through the elf, even after seeing him literally rip a man's heart from his chest) that Hawke, despite his Maker-given gifts, was not like the magisters Fenris had encountered. If not exactly bosom friends they at least now had a camaraderie, however shaky, that had formed after…

No. Hawke shook his head, grasping his staff resolutely as he moved forward, his companions following his lead without need for him to voice orders. Best not to dwell on that.

"That doesn't make any sense." Garrett heard Sebastian mutter darkly from behind him. He cast a brief glance back at the Prince, noting the slight frown creasing his forehead, arrow already strung to his bow as soon as magic was brought up. "The Harimanns are no mages, and they follow the law of the Chantry. They would never consort with maleficarum."

Hawke could not help but wince at the other man's tone. He should have realised that, even had Sebastian not been sworn to the Chantry, his view on magic would not be flattering. For many people mages were only to be feared. Untrustworthy, prone to using blood and demons to achieve their ends on a whim. Why would a noble have any reason to think differently?

"Well, I'm no expert," he heard Isabela pipe up, impatiently, "but I'm pretty sure the Chant also advises against murder and that didn't seem to stop them."

Sebastian's cheeks coloured slightly, appearing properly scolded as he cast his eyes to the ground. "True enough." He muttered before returning his gaze upwards and leveling his bow at the ready.

Garrett nodded his thanks at Isabela for her defense, pleased to see that she didn't seem too sour towards the Prince as she gave the bearded man a small smile in return. For some reason, he didn't want her to hold the other man's prejudices too much against him. Other than his distrust of magic he seemed a good man, noble, despite his spoiled upbringing. Perhaps the Chantry is not completely useless. He thought, a small smirk playing on his lips as he returned his attention to the stairs winding up. Besides… he is rather handsome.

Shaking the rather inappropriate thought from his head - Isabela's influence, no doubt - he focussed his attention ahead as he and his companions reached the top of the staircase, a faint voice now coming to them from down a hallway to the left. "Sebastian, Isabela." The Prince and pirate turned at being addressed. "Watch our backs and make sure nothing sneaks up behind us. Fenris and I will take point." Hawke was only a little surprised when Sebastian merely nodded and followed his instruction, pulling the string of his bow back to his ear and holding it as he cast his gaze about. Varric often teased him about his seemingly natural ability to convince others to follow him. Though the dwarf romanticised it a great deal in his stories, he mused that it was odd how he had managed to gather such a strange band of individuals in his second year in Kirkwall and somehow have them all get along - well, most of the time.

"More, you lazy son of a bitch! What's taking so long!?" As they got closer they voice grew louder into a shrill, slurred yelling. Hawke approached the edge of the slightly raised walkway overlooking the room below, frowning when he saw a lone woman, stumbling in a stupor between large kegs lining the wall.

Sebastian came up beside him, his bow lowering when he seemed to recognise the woman. "Flora?" He muttered, confused, before raising his voice. "Flora!"

The woman continued on, slurring a few more unintelligible words and swinging a fist at some invisible object in the air. "More wine! Or I swear I will drown you in the dregs!"

"She doesn't even see us…" The Prince muttered, a troubled frown creasing his brow. Garrett couldn't resist the urge to reach out to him.

"Come on," he muttered, placing his gloved hand on the Prince's unarmoured shoulder, "we'll find out what happened here. Fenris," the elf grunted in response as he moved over to a closed door beside them.

"Sounds like someone else beyond this door, a man." He muttered under his breath. The mage moved away from Sebastian with a firm pat to the other man's back.

Hawke opened it slowly and quietly, frowning at the dull flickering of shadows he could see beyond as the voice became clearer. "More logs! It must be molten!" The man seemed to squak out his command, high-pitched and frantic.

"Please, messere! Don't! I-I beg you please…" The other voice, a woman, dissolved into sobs and instantly Hawke spurred himself into action, mindless of stealth as he threw the door open, magic gathering in his hand as soon as he stepped through.

The man still pacing around, a frantic look in his eyes, was unmindful of them but the elf facing away immediately turned towards them, snarling as he removed the knife from the frightened woman's neck, pouncing at Hawke instantly. He was about to throw a knock-out spell at the elf, before he suddenly found him downed. Sebastian stood before him, fist still raised from the gauntleted punch he had delivered to the elf's jaw.

"She will be so beautiful…" The human muttered, staring off into space, unaware of the intruders or his elven prisoner who was currently escaping back the way Hawke and his companions had come. "Or perhaps, I should be the one…"

Sebastian scowled at the man - another Harimann, Hawke presumed - before turning his heated gaze to Hawke, or more specifically his hand. Hawke quickly dispelled the power he had been gathering, pulling his hand behind his back as if burned. The distrust that smoldered behind those bright blue eyes stabbed straight through him and he felt his throat turn dry. The Prince owed him a debt, but would that matter now? His duty, and his own prejudice, dictated that Hawke, as a mage, deserved nothing but imprisonment or even worse, tranquility.

"We must end this madness." Was all Sebastian muttered, his disappointed gaze turning away from Hawke as he picked up the bow and arrow he had dropped in his haste to down the elf coming at Hawke. He couldn't help but wonder if the Prince had meant to save Hawke from a knife, or save the elf from Hawke's own magic.

This time, the Prince powered on ahead of the others, Hawke allowing him to continue on but always keeping a close eye on the other man as they followed his lead. "Rather high and mighty, isn't he?" Isabela snorted, disdain clear in her tone as she followed alongside Hawke. Somehow, despite Hawke's disapproval of her constant lewd jokes and comments about his home - really, he would never be able to look at the Amell family crest again - they had struck up a strong friendship. Whenever some idiot at the Hanged Man got a little too close for comfort and didn't take Isabela's warnings seriously, Hawke would be there, his presence enough to give them second thoughts. Similarly, whenever anyone from Hawke's mercenary past tried to blackmail him into submission, or when someone seemed close to seeing what Hawke's 'stave' truly was, Isabela would jump to his defense, tongue and daggers sharpened to use every threat in her arsenal. There was an easiness about their relationship that Hawke hadn't been able to find with any other companion except for Varric. Perhaps because Isabela did not like to dwell on the past and in turn kept Hawke's mind off of his more recent scars.

"It's only to be expected." He muttered, though he could not hide his disappointment. He was not sure why, but he felt the need to prove his worthiness to Sebastian. Convince him that, despite being a mage, he was not Sebastian's enemy. "He comes from nobility, who keep magic out of their family at all costs, and then he swore himself to the Chantry, who tell everyone that mages are evil and will betray you at a moment's notice for more power and the approval of demons." He sighed, running his fingers along the small, nearly imperceptible runes scratched into his staff.

"Oi, enough with that damn sad look. I won't have you moping over some Chantry sod," she glanced over at Sebastian, who looked behind briefly at the insult, a small sliver of shame showing in his dropped shoulders. Isabela smiled slightly at this victory before lowering her voice with a conspiratorial smirk, "no matter how pretty he is."

Hawke chuckled slightly as Sebastian led them down further into the mansion, throwing open a door and raising his bow at the ready. "Oh, Maker…" Sebastian muttered, lowering his weapons as his eyes widened in shock.

Fenris rushed in, followed closely by Hawke and Isabela, concerned at the Prince's sudden shock.

Indeed, what they came across was indeed shocking. Or, in Isabela's case, hilarious.

Sebastian's cheeks coloured a deep red as they stood for a moment, watching the older man and young elf… writhing on the bed before quickly backing out. "I'm sorry Hawke." The Prince muttered, his previous anger seeming to dissipate as embarrassment took over. "I did not mean to expose you to such things."

Isabela let out an unladylike snort, having to suppress her laughter as they headed further down into the depths of the mansion. "No apologies necessary." She muttered, amused.

Hawke simply shook his head at his friend, still giggling along until Fenris held out his arm to stop them, indicating a body further up. "A Flint mercenary, by the look of the uniform. It seems your information was right, Prince." The elf informed them with disinterest, stepping over the corpse while Isabela went to loot it, an eager glint in her eye.

"Turn back from here," all eyes darted back, weapons raised as Flora descended the stairs, the two other men they had discovered in tow, "there is nothing here for you."

Hawke studied them carefully, channelling magic into his staff in anticipation for a fight. "So now they see us…" He muttered under his breath, though there was still a glazed look in all of their eyes, as if they were still not fully aware of their actions. "What happened here?" He questioned, watching as Isabela rose, slipping a package over her back as she rose, twirling her daggers in a way that would have appeared to anyone else as lazy, but Hawke knew to be her readying for a fight.

"You shall not enter!" Flora's voice rose in a shrill shriek, unmindful of his question as her eyes rolled back in her head and she dropped limp to the ground along with her followers.

A dark, chilling growl sounded, seemingly coming from nowhere and yet echoing everywhere around the four of them. Hawke tensed his muscles, his stance squatting into a defensive form as he cast his gaze around warily.

A black ooze crept up from cracks in the ground, unnoticeable had he not been able to sense the foul magic present in the vile looking substance. "Shades!" He bellowed to his companions, casting a stream of fire at one of the growing dark pools. A mouthless shriek came from the liquid as a pair of grotesque arms rose from it, pulling out a misshapen, featureless head as the liquid solidified into a vaguely humanoid form along with its brethren who now rose faster, sensing the threat the mage and the others posed.

Fenris charged forwards, his body covered in a deadly blue mist as he let out a cry, swinging his sword in vicious arcs at one of the Shades, his cuts making it squeel in pain as black blood spewed forth like bile from its wounds.

Hawke grinned, unable to deny the thrill of adrenaline that rushed through him as the Shade he had angered, still alight, rushed towards him. He gathered up another spell, jabbing his staff forward and sending a stone fist flying from the end of his staff straight throw the Shade's fragile, burning form, sending it flying back to disolve on the ground. He spun around, sensing another enemy upon him and cast a cone of ice from his hand, watching as the approaching Shade struggled on through the chilling wind cast against it until it had been frozen solid by the spell.

Seemingly from nowhere, Isabela appeared from behind it, cutting her daggers this way and that in nearly impossibly fast motions, shattering the Shade into various chunks of ice. Offering Hawke a small wink, she melted into the shadows once more, leaving light footsteps in the dusty floor of the cellar as she padded over to aid Fenris holding his own against two shades, another threatening to come up from behind him.

Turning his attention to Sebastian, Hawke called upon his mana, noticing that the archer was struggling in the slightly cramped space of the cellar. He had downed one shade with five arrows, one attempting to strike it in the chest but, upon seeing that trying to find the demon's heart was a wasted effort, had aimed the other four at it's head, finally downing the creature with a perfect shot through its lone eye. However, he had received a cut along his cheek from a wildly flung out claw and the Shade advancing on him was quickly closing the space between them.

Still with quite a bit of energy left in him, Hawke shot lightning from his staff, the deadly blue arcs of electricity hitting the Shade and causing it to writhe in pain, black flesh crisping and burning until it dropped to the floor into a heap of black sludge.

Fenris, striking down his last two Shades allowed the lyrium haze around him to dissipate, breathing heavily as he turned to land a strike on the last remaining one, until Isabela appeared behind it, daggers flashing as she swept its head clean from its body.

The elf grunted his thanks as he placed his sword on his back and Isabela winked in return. Hawke merely shook his head at his companions, taking stock of his own inner mana supply. He had only used about half of his reserve, at best. Hopefully he would have enough to continue on. He doubted that these mere demons would be the only creatures they would come across.

"Thank you." He turned, an eyebrow raised when he heard the thick accented voice of the Prince. He was staring at Hawke, an unreadable expression on his face as he studied the mage. Catching himself staring, Sebastian quickly averted his gaze, frowning thoughtfully as he studied the incapacitated Harimanns.

"They're still alive." Hawke assured him, heading towards a cavern leading out of the cellar. Mortar lay about the entrance and the whole was uneven. Whatever this tunnel lead to it, obviously those who built this mansion never intended for it to be found.

Sebastian did not reply, merely followed Hawke as he headed after Fenris and Isabela.

As Hawke suspected, the journey through the tunnel, which had turned into a high ceilinged cave, had not been easy.

The ends of his armoured robes were singed from the fiery attacks of the rage demons they encountered. Sebastian had also suffered a few score marks along his once pristine white armour, and all of them were spattered with the vile black blood of the Shades.

"These ruins," Fenris muttered thoughtfully as they entered a large area, decrepit arcs struggling to rise above them, "they look Tevinter. It is possible that magisters used this place to consort with demons, and left the Veil thin." The elf's tone was murderous as he considered this possibility, angered at anything to do with the nation that had once held him captive and forced him through the excruciating torture that left his hair white and memories lost to him.

"Perhaps that is it then." Sebastian replied, his tone becoming hopeful. "A demon broke through and enslaved the Harimanns, forced them to betray my parents." Hawke almost felt pity for the younger man. He did not want to believe that people so close to his family had betrayed him. Indeed, he had seemed so desperate to reach through to Flora earlier. Hawke, despite the severity of the situation, could not help but feel a sting of jealousy. Isabela had hinted, with a great amount of amusement, at the Prince's checkered past of lovers which had apparently been the height of gossip throughout the Free Marches until he had been sent away by his family to live a life of pious prayer and contemplation. Perhaps Flora had been one such lover. He knew it was foolish to be jealous about it - he barely knew the man and his magic dashed any chance of them getting better acquainted - but he couldn't help it.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by what sounded like clicking, as if someone were tapping bleached wood along stone. Fenris seemed to bristle at the noise as well, his lyrium tattoos flaring.

Out of the thin mist covering the floor, the clicking grew louder, a cacophony of clattering as bony hands began to rise from the ground, skulls in various stages of decomposition rising up, hollow eyeholes seeming to glare at them with malicious intent. "Necromancy." Sebastian cringed, raising his bow and arrow, sending it faster than the eye could follow to shatter one of the corpses skulls. The magic holding the fleshless limbs together failed, the bones separating and clattering to the floor.

"Blood magic." Fenris growled just as furious as more and more corpses rose up around them. The faint mist had hidden them at first, but now Hawke saw the bones lying underfoot. He kicked away a pile of bones and worn armour, unleashing a simple spell to send a wave of magic towards two skeletons and dashing them against the wall, their joints falling apart.

"Hawke!" Sebastian yelled out a warning as a sword was stabbed into the ground, the creature clinging to it using it to prop up it's form. Ancient Tevinter armour hung off of the bones that formed the creature as it pulled its sword from the ground and brought up its shield. The Prince shot off another arrow, aimed at the Revenant, but the possessed corpse merely rose its shield to deflect the projectile with little effort.

Fenris let out a snarl, channeling his lyrium infused powers as he charged through a cluster of the skeletons, shattering their frail forms with his large greatsword as he charged at the Revenant.

Sebastian refocused his attention back on the skeletal warriors that had finished forming their small army, aiming to shatter skulls. Hawke merely chose to swing about his staff, using the blade at the end of his staff to knock skulls from spines and bony hands grasping weapons to the ground. Isabela seemed to disappear right before his eyes, presumably to aid Fenris in fighting the Revenant.

Hawke was not the greatest physical fighter. As a mage, his father had never seen the need to teach he or Bethany how to use a sword or wield daggers when it would only take time away from mastering abilities that, if left untrained, would easily mark them as targets to Templars or anyone who might break or take their hands in an attempt to keep them from using their magic. Still, he knew enough. When he had first arrived in Kirkwall and opted to join the mercenaries that his Uncle Gamlen was indebted to, Meeran had insisted that he know how to handle some melee skills, like his brother and Aveline.

It had been one of the few times that Garrett had ever seen Carver happy to spend time with his older brother, teaching him to use his staff like a stave and defending himself from the slashes of Carver's greatsword. When Garrett would find himself kicked to the dirt by his younger brother, Carver would laugh, not cruelly, but with a boyish joy at being able to show off his skill. In those moments, Carver had no longer been in Garrett's shadow, finally better than him at something, and both brothers had been grateful for the reverse in power. They had never gotten along well, unfortunately, with the rivalries brothers often formed, but Garrett found he missed that laugh more than anything else.

"Fenris!" He heard Isabela yell in panic, turning to see the elven warrior flying through the air from a strike of his now one armed foe, its shield and corresponding arm lying motionless at its feet. A flash of anger seethed within Hawke, powering his magic as he gathered a stone fist ready to burst forth from his staff. He saw the last of the skeletons downed by one of Sebastian's well aimed arrows.

He honed the power inside of him, waiting until Isabela appeared from her cloak and struck out with both daggers at the joints of the Revenant's legs, bringing the powerful corpse to its knees with an inhuman growl before rolling out of its reach. Disabled and unshielded but the depreciating and tattered armour covering its form, Hawke grinned as he realised it would not stand up to his attack, sending his spell flying, ripping up the ground as it sped full force into the Revenant, shattering it into a heap of bones on the ground.

Isabela rushed immediately to the elf's side, helping him to his feet as he favoured his side. "I'm fine." The elf growled, frustrated at having to be helped up. His frown only deepened as he shoved himself away from the pirate and had to grip his side harder.

Hawke nearly offered to heal it with magic but immediately decided against it. He did not have much skill in healing, but it was not that that stopped him. Rather, he knew that offering would only make Fenris more irritable, his distrust of magic so strong that he wouldn't even accept a potion.

"It is only a minor wound. The sword did not pierce my armour." He assured, his tone becoming a little more gentle as he realised how unneeded his abrasiveness to Isabela had been. "Let us move on."

The tunnels wound on for a little longer, Fenris hanging back with Sebastian as he favoured his side.

"You must give me more!" A voice hissed from ahead, causing the mage and his companions to halt. "Starkhaven will not submit. I put that idiot Goran Vael into the Prince's seat but the other families won't heed him!" Hawke stepped as lightly as possible, Isabela and Sebastian following his lead a little more effectively due to their training as rogues. Fenris stayed behind in the cavern, pulling out his sword cautiously as he watched the rest of them go on forward. If it came to battle, Hawke knew Fenris would come rushing to their aid, injury or no.

A woman with greying hair knelt with her back turned to them, caressing whomever it was she spoke to lovingly despite her frantic tone. "I must marry him to Flora and solidify our hold." She muttered as Hawke noticed the staff lying next to her on the ground. "But I need more power!" She seemed to be begging at this point, her hands caressing the person's - no, demon's - face falling away as the figure rose. The desire demon ran a purple claw along the woman's chin with an amused glint in her eye, tail flicking idly as it raised its horned head.

"I've given you much." The demon replied wearily, sighing as if exhausted. "Your desires run deep." Its yellowed eyes flicked to the approaching threat, a smirk playing along its purple lips. "You've already traded your husband and children. What more can you offer?"

Hawke stared back at the demon, meeting her alluring gaze with a cold glare. "Step away from her, demon." He growled warningly, the woman finally coming out of her stupor as she scrambled for her staff and rose it ready to strike at the intruders.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" She threw at Hawke, magic flaring before the white armoured Prince stepped in front of Hawke, fury radiating from him. "S-Sebastian?" She stuttered in disbelief.

"You were my mother's friend!" He accused, his hand gripping his bow until his knuckles shown as white as his armour. "How could you- you murder her!?" He sounded furious, but even though Hawke could not see his face, he knew it was as much grief as anger that fueled him. The tell-tale crack in his voice betrayed that he was trying to hold back tears.

"Such an ugly word." The demon interjected, smiling sinfully as she floated closer to the Prince, dragging her eyes up and down him as if trying to undress him down to his very bones with her gaze. "I prefer 'removed the only obstacle between her and her dreams'." She shrugged lazily, moving closer. Hawke knew he ought to fight her, take his chance and attack, yet something kept him frozen in place. "I could create such desires if I wished but it is far easier to nurture those that already exist."

She turned to Hawke this time, fixing her with her cold, passionless eyes. She had grown tired of Lady Harimann's petty jealousies. She was hungry and in need of a new source of power, a new source of desire. "The desire for power is easy to find. You and your friend both possess it, do you not?" She flicked her gaze to Sebastian with a smirk. "You both wish to rise."

A clawed hand came up to cup the Prince's cheek, the demon's smirk turning into a grin as she watched him try to resist. Sebastian's lips moved as if struggling, trying to repeat soothing words that sounded to come from the Chant of Light but with each passing second the show of defiance seemed to become harder and harder.

Suddenly, the demon let out a high-pitched shriek, pulling away from Sebastian as if burned. She looked down in confusion and anger at a dagger sticking out of her stomach. "What a bore you demons are." Hawke smirked at the Rivaini as he finally broke from his stupor. So absorbed with Garrett and Sebastian, the demon had ignored Isabela who now stood behind her. "'Ooooh, I will offer you a roll in the sheets for your eternal soul'." She couldn't resist joking before pulling her dagger out and using the other to slash down the demon's back causing another high pitched screech.

Answering cries came from around them as Shades rose up to defend their mistress and Lady Harimann cast a haphazard fire spell at the pirate who dared to attack the demon. Hawke replied in kind as Isabela deftly rolled out of the way, letting off his own fire spell and watching, sorrowfully as it caught the woman's robes, greedily using the cloth to feed the flames. He attempted to block out her screaming as he turned to one of the Shades, noting Fenris' joining of the fight, though he did not charge straight to the desire demon and settled for fighting off her lesser brethren. It would do him no good to get injured a second time.

He froze the Shade in place, using up the last of his reserves of mana to do so and shattered it with the bladed end of his staff. Surveying the small skirmish, he noted that Isabela and Fenris had managed to take care of the rest, all of them ready to face the desire demon that Isabela had injured.

Yet, they found Sebastian standing triumphant over the creature, though looking anything but pleased as he retrieved his arrows from between the demon's breasts and another from her neck. He looked at the charred corpse of Lady Harimann, a sickened frown turning down the corners of his mouth. Hawke did not fail to notice that the Prince refused to look him in the eye as he passed the mage, and he could not help the guilt that crept up. "Let us return to the Chantry. I must pray for Lady Harimann's soul."

Nodding morosely, Garrett made to follow. However, Isabela held him back as Fenris and Sebastian walked on, slipping the package from earlier off of her back and holding it out to the mage. "What is it?"

The rogue smiled cryptically, dragging Hawke along by the arm to follow their two companions. "A peace offering. Might be the difference between your cushy mansion and Hightown and the Gallows."

Hawke frowned in confusion but muttered his thanks none the less, following after the Prince and elf.

So I decided to get this typed up and posted while on holiday (and god was it annoying fiddling about with Google Drive and Word on a laptop which I hate because trackpads) because I have exams a month after I get back from holiday (and this is my last year and I'm applying to Universities so I'm actually/probably/maybe gonna get off ass and study) and then exams further on in April/May so the next chapter probably won't be up until mid-summer, just warning you. Please continue to follow/fav/review because it really does encourage me to keep going with this story and not drop it like I do with everything else (indeed this is my first multi-chapter fic that actually has multiple chapters).