Hello all! Thank you so much for your support, reviews, alerts, favs! I appreciate it as always :D

I don't know why, but I was able to complete this chapter in record time. I'm usually a very slow writer. But here it is. I hope you enjoy. By the way, Lyrium Ghost II is being written. :D Fenris is cooperating for once in his own special elfy way.

Chapter 5: Lost in Paradise

Marian raised an inquisitive eyebrow in Anders' direction. The mage answered it, his face sharing her sentiment of concern; something was wrong.

"It's never this quiet, Hawke." Anders was hunched over as his eyes strained to see through the deep shadows. "I hope you are prepared for trouble."

Anders is always the optimist, thought Marian. But, he is probably right. We are once again headed into a deep pile of manure. I wonder what it will be this time. Raiders, slavers, marauders or maybe, if we're really lucky, it will be a blood mage who is a part-time slaver when he is not being a marauding raider. Whose idea was it to come into this cave anyway? Marian sighed. Carver's idea. I actually listened to my little brother? Oh, that's right! I did it to get him to stop bitching because (she heard Carver's whiney voice in her head) he never gets to make any decisions.

Varric pointed to a dilapidated door. "Since when do caves have doors? We should check it out."

And my ever-faithful dwarf makes the first astute observation of the day, Marian thought. The exposed chest hair never failed to impress. Malcolm, her father, had been blessed with a body full of hair and a nice beard on occasion when he was trying disguise his appearance from the templars. But it was nothing compared to Varric. Exposing those curly chest locks had to be a sin in the eye of the Maker. They were too thick and luscious for a mere mortal to see.

"All or nothing, Varric" Marian said. She gave him her best cheeky smile. "We are adventurers, remember?"

Varric rubbed his bristles. A fleck of dust had entered his eye and the constant watering had made it difficult to focus on Hawke. Thankfully, the sway of her hips was hard to miss and it had kept him on the straight and narrow. The swoosh of those shapely titans makes me wish I were three foot taller. Varric could not see, but his eyelid movies were clear.

"Yeah, yeah, adventurers," Varric said. He wiped his eyes with his clean glove, the one that he reserved for Bianca's trigger. "I can't see a damn thing. Every time we fight I get a shitload of dust in my eyes."

Carver chimed in. "If you weren't so short that probably wouldn't happen, dwarf."

"It beats being tall and stupid," Varric quipped. "Let's get this over with before I'm forced to shoot junior in the ass."

Marian unsheathed her composite bow from its scabbard. Varric, even half blind, could see the bow's sexy curves and brown berry wood. It was exotic and shapely and oh so deadly.

Marian sighed. "Do any of you ever feel like we are being controlled by some unknown force? Like a puppet on a string. Or is that just me?"

None of her companions replied.

"It's just me then."

Prowling through the city late at night and engaging in deadly battles was becoming the norm for Marian Hawke. The sun was at its peak when they found the cave just beyond the outskirts of Kirkwall. Carver had spotted it and he was determined they check it out. Marian had argued that it was the perfect place for bandits, thieves, mercenaries and spiders to hide. Carver, equipped with that knowledge, was adamant that it would be a quick way to score some coin. They would be in and out and richer before the hour was over, so he had said. Three hours and four groups of bandits later not a single sovereign jingled in their purses. The situation was becoming all too familiar.

Varric, Fenris, Carver and Anders took up a defensive position behind Marian. She turned around and stared at them.

"How did I get thrust into the role of leader?" Marian tapped her foot. The others avoided direct eye contact.

"You're the bossiest." Carver insisted. "And you're the eldest, so get on with it then, sister."

"Alright, I'll be the leader." Marian grumbled. "But if I screw up I don't want to hear any bitching."

The cave door was slightly ajar. Marian made a hand signal and the group stopped. This is going to go wrong, she thought. Nothing we do is ever this easy. She placed an arrow on the bow's flax string and drew it. Alright, here goes nothing. Her small delicate foot pushed the door open. The inside was no more inviting than the outside. A splintered table and a dim lantern were the only furnishings, and the table was half covered in dirt. Charming.

Marian pointed to two barrels. Her companion's eyes were drawn to them. Varric shrugged. The rogue had experience with traps, he was damn good at finding them, but the lighting was poor and he could see no sign of tampering.

Yes, noncommittal shrugs are so helpful, Varric. Let's hope I have all of my limbs after this. Marian used her head to gesture towards the door. They were going to risk springing a trap.

Damn, Hawke's giving me that look, thought Varric. This can't be good. He placed his finger on his crossbow trigger. Over the last month, the dwarf had put his faith in the archer. She was deadly, beautiful and had a great sense of humor. There was a commander in her, the type of person who did not demand respect but gradually earned it through hard work and commitment. He had observed that those who entered her company eventually sought her approval. It was odd considering she was not one to readily judge a person or admonish them if they screwed up. That was a fortunate trait since most of the people in her company tended to be less than perfect. Perhaps, Varric thought, that is why gaining her trust feels like an achievement.

Marian kicked the door open. Maker, I just know this is a trap. The barrels exploded and she went reeling backwards.

Varric fondled his earring. It was a nervous habit. She's not going to be happy with me when she gets up. Ouch, she's landed on her bow. I wonder if Anders can heal it.

Anders, the tall blonde apostate mage ran to Marian's side. Healing was something that had always come easy to him, unlike women. He knelt down and began checking for wounds. "Are you alright, Hawke? Does anything hurt?" Anders trailed his blue glowing fingers down Marian's arm.

Marian rubbed her shoulder and checked her body. "Just my ass." She looked between her legs. "Andraste's bouncing breasts! I broke my bow!"

Carver noticed the overzealous use of Ander's hands. Maker, he will use any excuse to touch my sister. I hate that mage and the creepy thing inside of him. Father would have sent him packing.

"Hawke, we have company!" Fenris shouted. A group of thugs came running towards the broody luminous man. He had managed to hold two off, but the others flooded the room. "I need help here!"

Marian jumped to her feet and drew her daggers. They weren't her preferred weapons but her bow was little more than expensive, well maintained, exotic kindling. Carver came to her aid. His two-handed sword had been unsheathed and was towering high over everyone in the room.

I just know he is compensating for something, thought Marian.

Anders, being a mage, was a ranged combatant. He along with Varric took up a defensive position behind the brother and sister. Marian ordered them to fire while she, Carver and Fenris engaged in close combat.

Two men were turned into human popsicles by Anders. Marian had seen her father do the same spell when Lothering was attacked by raiders, but it never failed to impress. The blade of her daggers made contact with the thick ice. The first strike always gave the most resistance, but the second was deadly. They plowed through the rest of the untrained thugs without receiving injury.

Marian kicked a frozen limb out of her way. "I just knew this was going to be a pain in the ass!" She watched the rest of the limbs skate across the cave floor. "Why did I listen to Carver."

Carver turned around. "Well there it is," he declared loud enough for anyone in the cave and the outlying vicinity to hear. "When you screw up no one says anything, but the first time I do, it's the most Maker awful thing since bramble pie."

"Keep your britches on, junior." Varric said. "It's pretty much a given that nothing is going to be easy." He ignored Carver's stance that resembled a child stomping their feet and turned his mind to the contents of the room. "So, there's," he counted, "four chests. Looks like a decent score even if it cost Hawke her eyebrows."

Marian's eyes looked up and her fingers quickly brushed against her brows. When she found they were intact she became annoyed. "Varric!" she yelled. "That wasn't funny."

"I was just shitting you," Varric laughed. "It was worth it just to see that 'oh fuck' expression on your face." His attention swiftly moved to a small unopened chest at the end of the room. Varric gave it the once over. "It doesn't look trapped."

"Are you sure, Varric?" Hawke remarked in a condescending tone. "I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

Varric rubbed the spiky bristles on his chin. She doesn't forgive and forget easy does she? I've known many humans in my life but this one is especially complicated. What have you gotten yourself into, Varric?

"I'll open it then." Varric said.

It was then Marian noticed the tripwire. "Varric don't!" The dwarf had seen it and stopped in time, but Carver had come barreling through, intent on being the first to open it. An explosion rocked the cave and a thundering rumble followed. Fenris reacted, his lightning reflexes kicked in before the others had yet to take a breath. He did not think or hesitate and went straight for Marian. Later, his decision would prove to be the changing point in his life.

The cave wall collapsed, cutting the groups off from each other. Marian and Fenris lay on the ground on one side and Varric, Carver and Anders on the other. When the dust settled, Marian arose, coughing away the dust from her lungs. Her thoughts immediately turned to her brother, Carver. The person she found was Fenris, unconscious and covered head to foot in dirt. She went straight to his side.

"Fenris?" Marian asked, the fear rising in her voice. "Are you alright?" She brushed his cheek and then his forehead. When he did not respond she laid her head on his chest to listen for his breathing. There was a steady beat to his heart.

Marian, convinced Fenris would live, rose quickly from the ground to investigate their circumstances. A solid wall of rock had cut them off from the others. If it had not been for Fenris's quick action, Marian realized she would dead. Varric, Anders... Carver, please do not let them be dead, she thought.

"Carver!" she yelled. "Are you alive? Can you hear me?" Each question grew more frantic. She laid her hands against the wall, as if touching it could somehow bring her closer to him. "Please, answer me brother." When no word was spoken, Marian began to cry. "Carver?" Her voice was meek and resigned to the fact he may indeed be dead.

"Hawke?" Fenris asked. He had risen from the dirt encrusted ground, massaging the bump on his forehead. "Are you hurt?"

She quickly wiped her tears away and went to Fenris. "I am fine." The elf's head was bruised and his arm scraped, but other than that, Marian could see no other wounds. "Do you want an elfroot potion to heal your cuts?"

"No, we should save them in case the others…" His eyes darted around the room. "Where are the others?"

Marian shook her head and she could no longer stop the tears from running. "They are on the other side." She wiped the wetness away from her cheeks. "I do not know if they live or not."

"I…" Fenris studied their surroundings. They were in a large cavern with a cathedral height ceiling, and enclosed on all sides. A ray of sunlight streamed in through an opening in the rock above and illuminated the floor. Fenris was thankful for that small miracle. He walked to the wall and his fingers meticulously felt for the slightest breeze. But when none could be found, the markings on his skin lit, and with immense effort his hand phased through the stone. I can not reach the other side," he said.

Marian began to pace in short hurried steps. The bun in her hair was frayed, spilling over onto the sides of her head, covered in small flecks of stone and moss. She pulled and tugged the strands while she tried to reconcile her fears. "I yelled but they did not answer," Marian said, a nervous quake in her voice. "They are probably dead."

Besides being trapped in a cave, this was a new situation for Fenris. He did not know how to offer comfort to a normal person. Danarius had always wanted a 'particular' flavor of reassurance that did not fall into the category of sane. Logic was the only tool he had at hand.

"You do not know for certain that they are dead," he said, confident his appraisal of the situation was sound. "They could be seeking help and we should focus on that possibility."

The once well groomed hair began to fall apart, much like its owner. Marian rapidly shook her head, determined not to be comforted. Fenris recognized the guilt, as if somehow they could have avoided fate, and he knew how easy it was to fall prey to it, to allow it to consume your thoughts and render you useless.

"No," she said. Her breathing became ragged. "We are trapped. No one will come. We will die here in this dank place."

Fenris felt inadequate as she sank to the ground. Her knees curled inwards towards her chest and her head fell heavily onto her knees and she no longer tried to stifle her sobs.

Think. What do I say to her? I find that I cannot bear to watch her cry. He rubbed his temples in an effort to soothe his tattered nerves. Why do I care? The thought sounded harsh even in the privacy of his mind. I do not know why, but I do.

It came to him then, a simple solution it seemed, perhaps too simple, but he had little experience in these matters.

Fenris sat next to her, at a comfortable distance. "I…" he started but his voice escaped him and cracked. Marian looked up then and at him. He wanted to smile away the pretty tears in her eyes, rub them from her cheeks with his thumbs, anything to see her face unmarred. He wanted… I want, he thought to make her want me. He buried that need before it had time to transcend beyond his irrational mind and form into a real desire.

Marian had been patiently waiting for him to continue. He owed her comfort. It was the least he could do considering what she had done for him.

"When I was a slave," Fenris said, the silence thankfully broken. "I often lay awake in my pallet at night thinking what it meant to continue with my life. Why would I do so under such dire circumstances?" What he said was not the truth for the most part. The actual truth was that he wondered how best to please his master day after day.

"And?" Marian said in a way that suggested his observations were not welcomed at the moment. "What did you decide?"

"That death would surely come, but if I welcomed its arrival, then I agreed with Danarius; my life was indeed worthless."

The crying stopped. Marian's mind was now turned to other things, to Fenris. Yes, she thought. If I sit here and wait for death it will only prolong the agony. Best to welcome life as long as it is to be had. I hate how the damned elf makes me think, but I wouldn't have it any other way.