Search for the answers I knew all along
I lost myself, we all fall down
Never the wiser of what I've become
Alone I stand a broken man

"Danarius may know we're here. I wouldn't put it past him."

Anders stares at the escaped slave, watching him for any sign of danger, either towards himself of the young woman leading their merry band of misfits. For someone who has been Hawke's companion a grand total of three days, he is much too possessive about her, he knows, but he can't help feel other than personally responsible for her safety, especially after the way she had comforted him after… Karl. "I could stand to know a little more about this Danarius." Her brother is glaring at him, eyes flashing from his stance with the elf to his sister's new clothes, something that looks like one of their mother's old dresses, re-stitched to fit under her hastily patched chain, still slightly stained with blood from the wound she had received on his behalf. You're right, if I'm really trying to be protective, maybe next time I can try not taking her into a Chantry full of Templars in the middle of the night?

"He is a magister of the Tevinter Imperium."

"Oh is that all? Nothing to worry about, then." He grits his teeth at Varric's sarcasm, trying to hush the voice of rage building in his head. Something is wrong with Hawke, he can tell, even though she is trying to cover it up with her usual air of impersonal professionalism it doesn't quite manage to hide the subtle signs of fear in her dark eyes and her too-even breathing.

"He may have prepared some magical defenses." Hawke states, turning back to the other men, her posture straight, eyes empty and cold, face blank. She is in control, everything hidden from them. Well, not me. What are you hiding, girl?

Fenris shakes his shoulders back proudly, marching towards the door. "They will not keep me from him."

"Maker man, did no one ever teach you not to announce to a very powerful mage that you're coming to kill them?" Normally, Anders' muttered comment at the elf's wild shout of challenge would have a smile trying to blossom on my face, but right now I can't even risk the little bit of emotional leak that is jocularity right now. Calm, cold, collected; the mask I have worn so many times must become reality. There can be no fear, no anger, not even love or hope must touch me, not in this place, whispering the sound of suffering somewhere deep within. I must be strong, I must keep control.

Weapons at the ready we stumble from room to room, finding no guards, no residents, not even any corpses, just vast, empty rooms looking like someone left in a rush, not even bothering to clean the food from their plates. "I don't like this, Sister," Carver whispers to me, holding his heavy sword straight in front of us as he nudges another door open, leading to a short hallway. "Surely we should have found something by now."

"We should have," I agree, when something catches my attention and I snap my head around to stare at the door blocking the other end of the hallway. It's so low I can barely hear it, like something is trying to cover it up, to hide what is waiting behind the door, but nothing can completely stop me from hearing that. Fenris shoves the door open and rushes through it, the other men on his heels. "Wait, don't!" I cry, but they are through, heading straight towards the trap set waiting for the returning slave. No, no Maker please… Down the hall I sprint, into grand room with sweeping stairs and high ceiling, hoping against all hope I am wrong, but knowing I never get that kind of luck.

"Danarius!" Fenris roars his master's name as he takes in the scene of glyphs traced in blood at equal distances around the room; his rage echoes through the chamber, bouncing against the walls, ricocheting directly at where I stand. I must be strong, I must be strong, I must not hear it… This trap was not set for me, it was set for him, and I wonder what the magister will think when finds out exactly what he has caught in his snare. But then again he may never know, for the agony of the blood magic drops me to my knees just as the first of the rage demons begins to boil from the floor.

My lungs won't fully inflate, my ribs aching like someone is squeezing them tightly in a giant fist, but I force my head up to watch as the others battle both shades and demons through the crimson haze that nearly blinds me. A short shape that must be Varric is to one side, showering the creatures with bolts from Bianca, while Carver and Fenris appear like silvery blurs to me, their massive swords hacking at the summoned monstrosities, desperately trying to clear the room, but for every one they bring down another springs up to replace. Four rage demons now blister the air with their heat; I can taste their mindless desire for possession of a living mage, their frantic need to be within my skin. How easy it will be for them, with me bound by he scream of the blood magic; some part of my mind that thinks strange and irreverent things at the worst of times wonders how they will decide which will turn me into an abomination.

Like a breath of life, healing magic crackles across my skin, trying to scrub the anguish away from my mind and soul. Looking up, my eyes find Anders' through the blood fog smothering me, trying to make out the words on his lips - a question? a demand? a plea? - when his deep brown gaze fills my vision, chasing away the scarlet miasma. In that second I hear the rage screamed by the creature both man and spirit in the Chantry echo through both of us, pushing away the harsh agony attracting the demons to me - and instead they move to attack him. Look, I want to shout. Look at the demons, stop looking at me. But we are both ensorcelled, and something within me snaps. I don't know how, but I am on my feet, the space around me boiling with magic as I gather all the pain screaming through the room into me, drawing it up my body and out my hands in a shower of ice. "You will not have him!" Snarls tear at my throat, but I don't hear them, all I feel is rage, pain, I am unaware of my movements, what spells I cast. The only thing I know is that the demons will not touch my fellow mage, that nothing within my being will allow that. On the walls, the glyphs burst into flame one by one as the shades and demons are cut down, either by our magic, or the more mortal swords and crossbow carried wielded by the others.

When the final spirit falls, I lean on my staff to catch my breath, pushing back against the faint echoes of pain sounding through the mansion until they are silenced. Giving me dark look, Fenris goes through the three rooms at the top of the stairs, growling louder and louder as he finds each one without a living soul within them. Muttering something about needing some air, he heads for the exit, but not before giving me one more glance of contempt. "Sister?" Carver's voice breaks through my exhaustion and I look up at him, my chest still tight like I'm caught in something. "No warning about the blood magic?"

"Not enough; it was… hidden somehow. The magister must be powerful indeed to be able to cover up, well, that." I nod to the marks on the walls where I had burned off the glyphs with my rage. My brother looks at them for a moment, then nods. At least you didn't kill any of us, I can almost read his thoughts, but he knows better than to speak them out loud. Just as I know better than to dismiss what I just did.

"Can you walk?" Anders interrupts, holding out a hand with another offer of healing magic.

Shrinking back from the touch, not looking at him I nod. "I'm fine. Let's go check on our elven friend, shall we?" The sooner I can get out of here, get somewhere where I am alone, the better I will feel.

He stands outside the mansion, looking up at the sky, cursing himself for a fool. How could he be so blind? No wonder the little starling has the bravery of a raptor: with magic at her command, she need never fear the eagle seeking her for a meal, nor the hunter seeking her for feathers. Indeed, the only true threat to her comes from within, from the demons hiding in the shadowed heart he can see in her eyes. Better to fear the eagle, or the hunter, for how do you fight yourself? Soft steps sound beside him, and he knows she and the men who follow in her wake have found him, seeking some explanation for what has gone one this night. "It never ends. I escaped a land of dark magic to have it haunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul. And now I find myself in the company of yet another mage." Angrily, he crosses to Hawke, pointing an accusing finger in her face. "I saw you casting spells inside. I should have realized sooner what you really were. Tell me then: what manner of mage are you? What is it that you seek?"

The heavily muscled man with Hawke's same black hair steps forward, one hand reaching back towards the heavy sword slung across his broad shoulders. "If you've got a problem with my sister, you've got a problem with me."

Something lights in her eyes, like she is surprised to see him standing up for her. No, theirs has not seemed like a close sibling relationship, indeed until this moment, Fenris hadn't even realized they are brother and sister. "I'm not seeking anything." Hawke replies, resting her hand on the boy's arm. "Just trying to feed my family."

"Yet danger will undoubtedly find you."

"Hawke isn't the only mage around here." Ah, he wondered when the pale one would resume trying to protect her as if she is his own personal plaything. A coward and a mage, how typical; here is one that has none of the starling's strength or fight. "And we did just save your bloody hide from a horde of shades and demons in there, so show some respect."

Still, they are right. She has helped him despite the danger, without ever making him feel like he is less than she because he was once a slave. "I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth. I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised." Handing her the pouch, he starts slightly when their fingers brush. Her touch is… beyond description. Suddenly, he wants nothing more than to stay by her side. "Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it."

"You didn't seem all that thrilled with me a moment ago." Curiosity, not accusation. Remarkable, how accepting of life's vicissitudes this little bird is. Perhaps that is for the best though; how does one fly in the right direction, if not by knowing how to adjust when the wind changes course?

"You are not Danarius. Whether or not you are anything like him remains to be seen."

"Do you think your master will keep chasing you?"

"He is too proud not to. Perhaps one day the hunt will cost him more than he is willing to pay, but I doubt that matters any longer."

Her eyes are clear and crystal bright as she raises her head to look straight at him, the dim lamplight reflecting off her pale cheeks. "Should that day come, he will find me at your side. I don't abandon my friends. Ever."

Swallow me under and pull me apart
I understand there's nothing left
Pain so familiar and close to the heart
No more, no less, I won't forget

A/N: Lyrics from "Without You" by Breaking Benjamin. Thanks to AmandaKitswell for being an awesome first reader / beta and for yelling at me to work on this, and then yelling at me again when I complain about how much I hate what I'm writing because IT'S CRAP! Not so much thanks to her for being plot bunny breeder / trainer extraordinaire, which resulted in my one shot "Compromise", which contributed to the delay of this chapter by several days. (Humorous/smutty take on the relationship between F!Hawke - not Ebony - Anders, and Justice.) And she's breeding more, so if you don't see any more chapters on this for a few days, see if I put up another one-shot about some threesome involving F!Hawke, Anders… and some random third character that I'm probably going to need bleach to get the images out of my mind (Maker, I hate you woman! But I love you too! We have such a rivalmance. When are we moving in together?)