A/N: First of all, I apologize for the delay. I actually really, really struggled with writing this chapter. I ended up writing about three different versions and I was never fully satisfied with any of them. This kind of diverts a bit from typical DA2 canon and I apologize for that, but I liked this chapter the best out of the three versions I wrote. I felt like Fenris' markings were never really fully explained, and there were a lot of plot holes and stuff there, so I ended up taking a bit of... uh... creative liberty. If you don't like that, I apologize. Hopefully this isn't an idea that gets me burned at a stake, haha. Anyway, I really really hope you guys like this. I still don't own Dragon Age.

"Hawke, behind you!"

It wasn't that Merrill's cry of warning came too late—because Hawke had the time to whirl around to face the source of the delicate elf's distress, the late afternoon sun of the Wounded Coast getting in her eyes for a fleeting moment.

But when she looked up and saw the small, malevolent eyes and jagged teeth of the ogre, its mouth smeared with dried blood, every muscle in her body froze. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move, and she couldn't even summon up a coherent enough thought to form a spell. The only thought that ran dimly through her mind was to wonder if this was what Bethany had felt before the ogre outside Lothering had….

"Hawke, run!" Merrill screamed.

The human finally felt her feet shuffle into motion as paralysis gave way to unbridled terror, and she began skittering backward. Her mouth moved, voice finally managing to form the words to a spell, any spell—

But the ogre had her in its sights, and it lunged forward, a brutal hand arcing around from the side and connecting with Hawke's body, sending her flying like a ragdoll.

Hawke hit the ground hard, all the wind knocked from her lungs, and she moaned weakly as she tried to sit up. Immediately she knew she had broken ribs from the impact of the attack. Her lungs pumped uselessly as she tried desperately to gulp down air, to recover enough to heal herself.

She heard the familiar clunk of metal and wood from somewhere to her right, and registered that several crossbow bolts had buried themselves in the ogre's stomach. The ogre roared, more in fury than pain, as its head quested from side to side, making note of Varric and then Merrill. But then it shifted its attention back to the mage on the ground, the easy kill.

But the ogre clearly hadn't been counting on Fenris, lyrium markings burning like pale blue fires along his skin and shrouding him like a specter, as he covered the distance between himself and Hawke in bounding strides, his sword at the ready. He met the ogre's attack with ease, blade biting into the darkspawn's outstretched hand and hewing out a piece of flesh.

As she managed to get to her feet, Hawke caught her breath and called out her spell, feeling magic welling up within her and extending outward in a piercing bolt of energy. The blast flew over Fenris' head and struck the ogre square in the chest with enough force to stagger the monstrous being. But Hawke stilled, all thoughts of following through with her attack forgotten, because the casting of the spell had left her light-headed, dizzy with something she couldn't quite place. It was as if someone had struck a tuning fork and she was resonating with the sound, her every sense sharpened and tingling with anticipation.

As the ogre lumbered to regain its footing, though, Merrill went on the offensive, sketching a great circle in the air with her hand, crying out in Dalish. Stone grew upward around the ogre, as if the earth itself was forming a massive hand around the beast. It trapped the darkspawn in its grasp and began to collapse inward upon itself until the ogre screeched in agony, only to be drowned out by the sickening sound of bones being crushed. The earth swallowed it up til nothing remained.

Hawke became gradually aware of two pairs of feet running over, and she felt Merrill's hand grasping at her arm. "Oh, Hawke, are you alright? I was so worried about you!" she said anxiously.

Varric was laughing. "That was a hell of a trick, Daisy! You know I'm going to have to write that one into the story, right? You ground that thing into paste!"

Hawke tried to formulate the words for a response but it was if she was somewhere far away, outside her own body. For the moment, there was only the sweet hum of magic singing to her. With great effort, she looked up and saw Fenris, startled to see what she knew was probably her own expression mirrored on his face. As the pale aura surrounding him faded, she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Before she could speak, Fenris did so for her.

"What was that?" he asked in a low growl, leveling an intense, furious stare on her.

"What?" Merrill asked, glancing back and forth between them.

"I don't know, Fenris." Hawke said unsteadily, shaking her head.

Varric immediately circled around them and took Merrill's hand. "Come on Daisy. Can you show me which one of these trees has the Ironbark we need?" he asked kindly, steering her away from what looked like a brewing argument.

"Oh! Of course, Varric. It should be just over here. I thought I saw some during the battle…" Merrill replied, and their voices faded as the dwarf skillfully led them away from the situation.

Fenris hadn't seemed to notice their departure, his dark gaze fixed on Hawke and holding her captive. "What did you do?"

"I just cast a spell, Fenris. I didn't even aim it at you, it hit the ogre. You saw that!" she protested.

"You did something else, though. I could feel it!" his tone was angry and… urgent, somehow.

Hawke shook her head again, moving to take a step back from him. "I don't know what happened. I felt it too. I don't understand…"

But he moved in, grabbing her shoulders so she couldn't escape. She grit her teeth as she felt his fingers digging into her flesh. "My markings. When I used them, it was like… like I could feel your magic in them." His words were spoken in a low hiss, fear and mistrust boiling behind his eyes.

"I—I know. I could feel it too. I don't understand it though," she said quickly, before he could take his accusations further. "That spell shouldn't have affected you at all. And my magic has never affected you like that before, right?"

"Right," He said quietly, still gripping her shoulders, though his grip had relaxed by a few scant degrees. "But I… I had never used my markings so close to you before. The only other time was when we met."

"And I didn't cast any spells then. Because you'd already killed the slave hunter…" she whispered. "It—it didn't hurt you, did it?"

"No. But I didn't—don't do it again." He shoved her away then, abruptly, as if she was caustic to the touch.

Hawke winced clutched at her side as the jarring motion send renewed pain jolting up her side, mingling with the emotional distress she felt. That he blamed her for the incident when she'd had no idea what would happen. That they would never—could never—have a normal relationship.

His expression softened as he saw her hand move to her side, the beginnings of guilt flickering behind his eyes. "You are injured."

"I'm fine. I just need to heal myself. If you want to get the hell away from me, now's the time." She said, more hurt audible in her sarcastic response than she had ever intended. She summoned up the energy for a healing spell, feeling the magic blossoming at her fingertips.

But Fenris didn't leave. Hesitantly, he lifted a hand and tucked a straying lock of auburn hair behind her ear. "Festis bei umo canavarum." He murmured.

"What does that mean?" she asked quietly, peeking up at him as he released the spell cupped in her palm and felt the magic ebbing into her side, mending her broken ribs and accelerating the healing process. She'd be sore for a few days, certainly, but the spell would help her along and keep her functioning.

The elf didn't respond. As she finished the spell, he quietly drew away and went to look for Merrill and Varric, leaving Hawke alone on the rocky coastline. She'd just have to be careful about her proximity to Fenris when she used her magic in combat. And she could never tell him the way she'd felt in those moments.

There had been something breathtaking there, as if her heart had matched time with his own. She'd been able to feel the course of the energy trailing along his markings, her own magic practically singing in ecstasy as the brief connection had been made. And despite the fact that they were in combat, despite the fact that they were in danger and she was injured… she'd never felt such a sublime sense of peace before.

She could never tell him that she would have given anything to feel that again.