'Morning', such as it was in the depths of this infernal temple, came when all the others awakened. Fenris's arm was stiff from the pressure of Hawke's head against it as she slept, but he would not have had it any other way. Bethany appeared embarrassed and Isabela was on the defensive, acting the brash, bold pirate for all she was worth … and checking occasionally to see if Bethany was paying attention.

Varric watched them all, as always, with that faint hint of a knowing smile on his face. Occasionally, Fenris itched to bury his fist in the middle of that smirk.

Very shortly after they got started, however, Fenris had better things to fight than Varric's superiority complex. Darkspawn appeared in their path, their twisted, blackened faces snarling. Hawke shrieked in response. Swiftly, she rushed three of the creatures, her blade sweeping in front of her and scoring their stomachs. Black blood spewed from them.

"Don't get the blood on you!" Isabela shouted.

Hawke danced back out of the path of the blood. The hurlocks she had injured were on their knees now, clutching their stomachs. Two more were approaching her, and in whirling to deal with them, she lost track of Isabela.

All of them had: Varric was being crowded backward by one of the big genlocks, Fenris had his hands full with a giant hurlock, and Bethany was trying to pay attention everywhere at once. No one noticed the knock Isabela took on the head or the pirate falling into the field of battle until Hawke nearly stepped on her bright scarf underfoot.

"Bethany!" she shouted. She caught a blow from a hurlock's axe on her blade and shoved him backward, pushing with her foot. He landed on his back near Fenris's feet, and Fenris stabbed him in the gut.

Seeing her sister on the move, Hawke turned her attention to the genlocks pressuring Varric, taking them out with mighty blows of her sword to left and right.

Rushing to Isabela's side, Bethany went down on her knees. She trusted to her sister's prowess, and Varric's, and yes, to Fenris's, as well, to keep the darkspawn off her until she could get Isabela back on her feet again. From the ashen color of the pirate's skin, there wasn't a moment to waste. Gently she placed a hand on Isabela's forehead, closing her eyes to better visualize what lay beneath her fingers. The blue light of healing enveloped them both as Bethany sought and found the injured places. She spared a thought to be grateful it had been a blunt weapon; Isabela should be free of the taint.

At long last, Isabela opened her eyes, the golden depths glowing warm. Bethany sank back on her haunches, breathing in a deep sigh of relief and exhaustion.

"Aw, sweet thing, were you worried about me?" Isabela got to her feet, reaching out a hand to help Bethany up. "No need to worry about me—takes more than that to knock my lights out for good."

"If I hadn't been here, who would have fixed your cracked skull?"

"Her skull's been cracked for years," Evelyn said, grinning at the pirate. "All right, Isabela?"

"All right, Hawke."

"Will none of you ever be serious?" Bethany stood up, putting her hands on her hips. "Isabela would have died if I hadn't been here. How often do you go into fights without a mage to back you up?"

"We do not need a mage in every battle," Fenris growled.

"You don't know that."

"Yes. I do." He stalked away.

"Don't poke the elf, Sunshine."

"Looked to me like the other way around, Varric," Isabela said, crossing her arms.

"Stop it, all of you!" Evelyn snapped. "Fenris, mages are useful in combat, and we both owe our lives to them a few times over. Time to show some gratitude, despite your past." He glared at her. "Bethany, we can't always take a mage into combat. Sometimes the effort of protecting the mage in battle is more dangerous than not having one. We appreciate having you along now, though, and I'm glad you managed to heal Isabela's head. We've all wondered if that was even possible."

Isabela stuck out her tongue, and Evelyn laughed.

"Now," she went on, "can we keep going and get out of this damned place?"

Bethany uncrossed her arms and nodded, and Fenris came back over to the rest of the group. "I apologize," he said gravely to Bethany.

"Thank you."

Hawke took Fenris's arm, practically dragging him along with her. "I don't know which of us is farthest 'round the bend."

"Isabela."

"You're just saying that because she usually is."

"Well, there is that." If Hawke hadn't noticed the pirate's unusually strong attachment to Bethany, and the lack of Isabela's typical rejection of her lovers, Fenris wasn't going to point it out.

Hawke paused, sighing, and pointed ahead with the sword. "Oh, look. Another seal, undoubtedly another demon."

"Everybody drink!" Isabela said merrily, digging a flask out of her boot.

"You fight better drunk?" Bethany asked, confused.

"Cupcake, I do everything better drunk."

It wasn't true; in point of fact, Fenris had noticed over time that Isabela rarely got drunk. Or even tipsy, for that matter. She clearly had a strong head for liquor … and a strong respect for the advantages inherent in being thought inebriated. But her flippant responses were instinctive by now. Fenris wondered if even she knew the difference between her real self and her persona.

Hawke, meanwhile, was triggering the seal, and soon they were fighting the demon. It really was growing rather tiresome, Fenris thought. Even Bianca seemed weary, her song dulled.

As the demon fell, Larius appeared from the shadows, where Fenris could have sworn he hadn't been a moment ago. He hobbled toward Hawke, babbling almost before he was in earshot.

"Corypheus calls, louder now that you're here. Yes, he calls like an old god, with the song, so beautiful, high above us. Yes."

"Calls like an old god?" Varric frowned. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Neither do I. Larius!" Hawke said sharply. "What is this Corypheus?"

"More. More than darkspawn. More than human!"

"He has nothing of value to report," Fenris said. "Let us go." He was profoundly disturbed by the remnants of a person standing before him; was this what Grey Wardens became? Or was Larius different from most somehow, corrupted by this Corypheus?

"I'm with the elf," Isabela said.

"Very well." Hawke shouldered the sword, walking off and leaving Larius muttering to himself.

Another flight of stairs awaited them.

At the bottom, Hawke had expected more of the same walls and walkways, with the deep chasm below. Instead, she realized with some excitement that they had finally reached the bottom. It was boggy and grey, with mist rising off the murky waters along with a terrible choking stench.

"Bethany, I don't suppose you can do anything about that?" Hawke asked, gagging.

"What am I, your personal perfumer?"

"Actually, that's not a bad idea. If mages could act as high-end purveyors of scent, the nobles might not be so quick to let them be locked up," Varric pointed out.

"Remind me when I get back to point that out to the Knight-Commander," Bethany said wryly. "In the meantime, breathe through your mouth."

Varric wrinkled his nose. "I don't want to breathe this stuff in at all."

"Then perhaps we could cease this endless discussion and just get moving?" Fenris snapped. There was something tickling at the edge of his awareness, a sound. A voice? But he couldn't hear it quite clearly enough with all the others constantly talking.

His outburst silenced them, and he strained to hear better, but the sound continued as a faint whisper, like an itch in his ears.

"Broody, watch out!"

Varric's cry brought Fenris back to the present and he looked down at his feet to see an armored skeleton that he'd been about to step on. Varric knelt next to it, uncharacteristically cavalier about the muck on the knees of his pants. "This is Legion of the Dead armor."

"Legion of the Dead?" Bethany shivered. "You mean ghouls?"

"No, it's an Orzammar thing. They're the criminals, the dregs of the dwarven culture … or they're big damn heroes and the only thing standing between Orzammar and the darkspawn. Depends on how you look at it." While he spoke, Varric was busy poking around in the armor, his fingers long accustomed to the best ways to loot a body. He pulled a worn, crumbling journal out, gingerly flipping it open.

"What's it say, Varric?" Hawke asked.

"Whoa," the dwarf muttered, almost to himself.

"What?" Isabela leaned over his shoulder. "What language is that?"

"Dwarva." Varric turned another page, a flake of paper breaking off and drifting to the ground. "It says this guy was here searching for Tethras Garen, son of a Paragon. He was accused of murdering his …" He squinted at the word. "His sister. So they exiled him to the Deep Roads." He looked up, glancing around.

"So there is an entrance into the Deep Roads from here?" Fenris frowned. "I do not see one."

"No. Me, neither." Varric kept reading, absorbed in the crumbling pages. "After he was exiled, Tethras Garen was proven innocent, so they sent some Legionnaires after him, to bring him back to Orzammar. Apparently this guy, at least, never found his way out again."

"That's not a cheery thought," Isabela said. She rubbed her bare arms as if she was cold, despite the muggy heat that permeated the atmosphere.

"I can swear I read that story somewhere," Varric said, rubbing his stubbly but beardless chin.

Fenris and Hawke looked sharply at him, then back at each other, and shrugged. Varric knew everyone's stories but his own, it appeared. Fenris was not surprised. Varric spent his life hiding from every part of his past, both near and far.

"Let's go," Isabela said, setting out across the marsh and looking at the mud that clung to her boots with disgust.

A strange twittering sound came from the darkness, and suddenly dozens of small, long-necked creatures that looked a bit like featherless geese appeared.

"Oh, how cute," Bethany said, as the little things paused, stretching their necks out curiously toward the newcomers. One of them opened its mouth and emitted a spray of something bright and green that would have hit Bethany in the face if she hadn't put up a hand to protect herself. They all heard the sizzle of acid on her bare skin.

Then the creatures attacked and everyone went into motion. It was difficult to hit them, especially for Fenris and Hawke with their large blades—by the time they brought their sword down, the creature they'd been aiming for was no longer where they were striking. Varric's luck was little better as Bianca sang valiantly but made little impact. Bethany's spells were most useful, and Isabela's blades flashed quickly enough to catch the little buggers before they could dodge. Still, by the time they had dispatched all of the creatures, all of them were covered in acid burns and everyone other than Hawke, who had been protected by her metal armor, sported several bites from the creatures' sharp teeth. Between Bethany and the health poultices they carried, they managed to patch up well enough to go forward. None of them wanted to spend a minute more than was strictly necessary here in the muck, or have the chance of another nest of those strange long-necked creatures stumble upon them.

Isabela looked unhappily at a shiny burnt patch of skin on the upper curve of her breast. Elfroot was helping, but it didn't work as fast as she would have liked. Bethany was focusing on the bites more, to prevent infection, and between those and the fight, was low on lyrium. They had a few potions on them, but not so many that it was worth using one on cosmetic injuries. "Hawke?"

"What?"

"I've decided something. Next time you ask if I want to help with something, I'm going to say no."

Hawke chuckled. "You do that." She moved on ahead with Bethany.

"Hey, Rivaini."

"What, Varric?"

"What if Sunshine asks you for help? You gonna say no then?" The dwarf grinned at the pirate, quirking an eyebrow.

"Get stuffed," Isabela snapped, following the others.

"Well, that raised a bigger blister than the acid." Varric's grin widened.

"You truly think she is serious about Bethany?" Fenris asked.

"Rivaini tries hard to pretend she's never serious about anything … but you notice that even after Hawke got her ship back for her, she hasn't left Kirkwall." Varric's eyes rested thoughtfully on Isabela's back. "If you want to know the truth, I think Hawke's the first person she's ever really cared about. Other than her grandmother, who sounds scary." The dwarf shivered.

"So you believe that Isabela has transferred her affection for Hawke to Hawke's sister, instead?" Fenris frowned. He could not imagine such a thing … but then, Hawke's attention had always been focused on him, even when he had tried to deny it to himself. If he had been forced to watch her with someone else?

"You're looking at this all wrong, elf. Don't think of Rivaini thinking about Hawke the way you think about her. Well, not unless that's your thing, in which case, have at it." Varric chuckled, and Fenris tried not to think about the very disturbing image that was suddenly in his head and made him want to grab Hawke and throw her down on the nearest flat surface. Or up against the nearest wall, whichever was most convenient. Varric's grin widened, and he could tell the dwarf knew exactly what he was thinking. "Gonna take you a while to get that one out of your head, isn't it? You're welcome."

"You were making a point," Fenris growled, irritated.

"I thought I had." Varric chortled at his own double entendre. "Seriously, though. Hawke's like the family Rivaini never had; she sees Bethany as a way to hold on to that connection, and deepen it in a way all her own."

"Few people would consider Isabela capable of deep connections."

"True. But you and I know differently. Win Rivaini once and she's yours for life."

The dwarf had a point, Fenris conceded. He did not imagine Hawke would be convinced by it, not when it was her younger sister's welfare they were discussing, but after all, it was not Hawke's decision to make. As First Enchanter of the Kirkwall Circle, Bethany was at the whim of whoever the Chantry assigned as Knight-Commander. He pitied her for it, but she was a mage, and mages required oversight. There was little other choice, unless someone appointed him- or herself as that mage's personal watchdog, and he did not want Hawke to assign herself that task again. She had given enough of her life to her sister's safety; Bethany was an adult, and must learn to take responsibility for her own powers.

He rested his gaze on Isabela's back. While most might not consider the pirate trustworthy, Fenris certainly did. And once her emotions were engaged, she was as fierce and tenacious as any wild animal in defense of the person she cared about. If Isabela were to become attached to Bethany, Bethany's safety would be all but assured. Isabela would look after her, and would be more than capable of handling an abomination, should the mage slip and become one.

Yes, Isabela could be the answer to many of his questions, and Hawke's, as well. Once they were through to the end of this infernal dungeon, he would see about encouraging Isabela's feelings toward Bethany, and the mage's in return. Fenris couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. The idea that he had turned matchmaker! He clearly had been spending far too much time with Varric.