I am using this map to track where Seren and Fenris move.

This work has been re-edited on AO3. It won't be re-edited here until it's finished. This chapter reflects a chance made to Chapter 7.

Watching Seren outside of Tevinter was something of a revelation to Fenris. He'd known she had strength, known she was a fighter, known that even in the face of horror and pain she never gave up. Those were all things he'd witnessed starting from the first moment she'd been thrown down in chains in front of Danarius. But here, free, she was something else.

There was a confidence to her, a surety that he had no experience with. In Minrathous, under Danarius, he'd known his role, what was expected of him. His world had been small, narrow, his choices mostly just illusion. On his own, this journey, the sheer number of decisions to be made with no guide might have overwhelmed him. But Seren thrived.

He'd thought, before when escape was so impossible it couldn't even be a dream, that he would have liked to see her when she was free. He expected it to be glorious, expected it to take his breath away.

It was like a blind man seeing the sun rise for the first time.

He watched her lie, watched her shift and mold herself to become and get what they needed. And as he watched all that artifice and deception, it shook him to realize that not once, not from the very first words they'd exchanged, when he'd been nothing more than a jailer and tormenter to her, had she ever shown him that.

She caught him staring and raised a questioning eyebrow. "What?"

"You're beautiful."

How did a woman who'd survived more than two years of the very worst Tevinter had to offer still manage to blush? But she did, smiled soft and pleased, and stepped close to him. "Not so bad yourself there, handsome," she murmured and then brushed a kiss across his lips.

Fenris didn't have the words to explain what he felt, what she was to him, what it meant that someone like her chose someone like him. 'Love' seemed too simple a word for the emotions that burned through him. He would never have the words to tell her, but he would show her. Every bit of skill he had, every ounce of strength in his body, every lesson learned through pain and fear would be for her.

He would drown the world in blood to keep her free.

In the end, they decided to head east, crossing the Free Marches. Much of that decision was based on Seren's refusal to go to Orlais. She'd looked at Fenris with weary eyes and gently touched the tip of his ear. "I can't watch the way they'd treat you," she said. "The caravan was hard enough."

"I trust you."

"We can if you really want to. I'll manage, somehow."

"Seren." She stilled, looking at him carefully. "I trust you."

She sighed, took a deep breath and blew it back out, and nodded. "All right. East then."

The first city they decided to risk entering was Hasmal, the largest free city on the Nevarran border. They'd stopped in smaller villages and towns, but had always moved on quickly, not wanting to linger where there was little place to hide.

The night before they entered the city, they camped outside and Fenris had taken stock of their supplies. Everything they had was running thin. They would need more than they carried now, not the least of which were more clothes. They could both do with fresh changes and eventually they would need heavier garb when the weather turned colder. He weighed the coin pouch in his hand, noting with a frown how very light it was now.

"Copper for your thoughts?"

He snorted. "We do not have that much to spare." He tossed the pouch to her. "We'll need more coin soon."

Seren opened the bag and counted out what they had left. Less than ten sovereigns. Her lips pursed as she thought. "We'll have to find work."

With a shake of his head, Fenris splayed his hands out in front of him. "I'm afraid my skills are very limited."

She caught one of his hands. "Your skills are useful." At his disbelieving look, she insisted. "Fenris, there's always a need for a good sword arm, and you are far more than that. There's a reason the story I gave was that we were mercenaries. Here, in the south, people want skill, someone able to get the job done. Most don't care about much else, and those that do have the coin to afford to be picky."

Fenris looked down at their joined hands and sighed.

"Fenris." Seren slid over, pushing close to and then into his space. "I can see you thinking. Talk to me."

He resisted for a moment and then opened his arms so she could crawl into his lap. After taking a moment to settle her, he took her hand again, staring at their lyrium lines. How could he give voice to the thoughts that rattled in his head? Seren remained quiet. She knew him well enough to know this wasn't a moment to push.

He sighed again. There was no point in putting it off. She would have the truth from him, one way or another. "I killed for Danarius."

Her brows knit together. "Yes?"

"That is…all I have done. I am a weapon. My only skills lie in death."

It was Seren's turn to sigh. "Fenris, I…." She trailed off, clearly unsure of what to say. Looking down at their joined hands, she sighed again. Then she looked up to meet his eyes. "I want to tell you that you won't have to kill, but I can't. I will never lie to you. We both know he'll send hunters for us, that he will someday come himself. We're going to have to kill, Fenris. A lot."

"I know. And that will be good. That I will enjoy."

Her eyes met his and there was something dark, sad, and knowing in them. "Me, too." She attempted a crooked grin, but it fell short. "And we need to use the skills we have. We've paid for them so very dearly, and there…is a need for them, no matter where we'll go. But that doesn't mean that's all we have to be. We can be more than he made us."

"You already were," he said.

"And so were you," she replied softly. "He stole that, too."

Much of the time, Fenris didn't mind not being able to remember. But at times like this, he wished he could, wished he could refute the truth he knew. And he would hold her to her word that she would never lie to him.

"You don't know that."

Seren opened her mouth to answer back and then snapped it shut. "You're right," she said after a moment. "You're right. I don't know that. But you can be more than this. You will be more than this, I swear it. One day, when it's safe."

He believed her. Maybe not that there would ever come a day when they would be safe, when he could be more than the weapon Danarius made of him, but he believed that she would try.

And that was enough.

Hasmal was busy, citizens and travelers bustling about on their business. Again, Fenris allowed Seren to lead, following at her shoulder the way he had to often with Danarius. He'd also kept the wrap they'd purchased for crossing the plains, using it to hide his ears and markings as best he could.

They'd discussed what they needed beforehand, and now Seren sought out the right shops, stopping to ask the occasional passerby for directions. She handed Fenris a little more than half of their coin. "Buy only what we need for now. We can buy the rest after we find work."

"You wish me to do this?"

She nodded. "I'm going to find a place to stay for a few nights. It'll be…easier if I do it alone."

He inclined his head in silent acknowledgement. "Do you wish for me to wait here for you?"

She nodded. "Yes. I won't be long and I don't want us to get separated looking for each other in an unfamiliar city."

"Very well."

Seren nodded again and touched his arm briefly. "I'll be back as quickly as I can."

Then she turned away, leaving Fenris where he stood, melting into the crowd at moved past him.

There was a brief moment of panic as he lost sight of her and forced himself to remain where he was and not give in to the urge to chase after her. When he was calm he turned to the shop and entered.

It was a general goods shop, selling a little bit of everything. The shopkeeper looked over when he entered, but the man didn't seem troubled by what he saw and returned to doing something behind the counter. Fenris looked around the shop for a long while. He'd never actually been in a shop like this. Danarius would never step foot inside somewhere so base, and the few establishments he did patronize sold goods that would never be found here.

The sound of a throat clearing caught his attention and he turned back to look at the shopkeeper. The man raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you find something?"

"I am…in need of several things," Fenris said slowly.

"Aye. Do you have a list?"

"I, ah, no. Just…." He gestured vaguely to his head.

The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes and then shook his head, muttering something too low for Fenris to hear. "Well, let's hear what you need then."

With the man's assistance, a pile of necessities was soon gathered on the front counter: two sets of sturdier clothes for each of them, two proper bedrolls, rations for a week, a flint and steel, and more oil. To that Fenris added a comb and brush, along with some ties for Seren's hair, a rough chunk of lye soap for himself and a smooth bar of finer soap that reminded Fenris of ripe citrus trees.

"Anything else?" the shopkeeper asked.

Fenris considered the question. They would surely need more than they had now, but this would see them through until they could earn more coin. They didn't need anything else, but….

"Do you have lockpicks?" he asked.

The shopkeeper gave him a considering look, eyes lingering on Fenris's armor and sword. "Might that we do. Don't seem like the type for it, though."

"It's for a…friend," Fenris replied.

"Hm." The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes slightly, but reached under the counter to add a small leather pouch to the pile. "That'll do you?"

"Yes, thank you."

The shopkeeper tallied the costs and Fenris paid, noting that it took almost all the coin Seren had given him. He hoped he had not erred in his choices, or that the shopkeeper had not cheated him. Having paid, the shopkeeper handed him a thin cloth bag and Fenris piled the items inside to be sorted later, save for the lockpicks which he slipped into the pack he still carried. Gathering the bedrolls under one arm and hefting the bad in the other, he nodded his head at the man and slipped back outside.

Seren wasn't there yet and Fenris willed himself to wait patiently. She would return and all would be well.

Minutes passed and then Seren was at his side, slipping out from the passing crowd. "All good?" she asked, looking at the bundles in his arms, reaching to take the bag from him.

"Yes," he answered. "And you?"

"Yeah. Got us three nights. It'll give us a little time to rest before we start looking at what's posted on the Chanter's board. Come on, this way."

She led him through the streets of Hasmal, and he tracked the turns as they went, committing what he could of the city to his mind. The building she brought them to was a large, sturdy wooden structure, rising roughly three stories tall. It looked nicer than what he'd expected and he gave her a questioning look when he caught her eye. She shrugged. "I may have splurged a little."

The inside of the inn revealed a large common room, taken up by tables, benches and chairs. It was half full, customers scattered about, eating and drinking, serving staff moving from table to table. Seren gestured and led him further back, through a doorway to a long corridor. Doors were dotted along the hallway, but she led him all the way to the back, to a door set at the end of the hallway. She slipped a key from a pouch and unlocked the door, stepping through and holding the door for him.

The room Fenris stepped into was nothing like what he expected. It was large and open. There was a large bed against the back wall and a heavy table with upholstered chairs along the left wall. On the table was a tray of food and pitcher. To the right were decorative privacy screens and beyond them a sunken tub, already filled with steaming water. A bench next to the tub held a pile of soft looking towels.

"So I may have splurged a lot," she said, a touch of guilt in her voice.

He turned to her, hesitant, as she closed the door and set her bundle down on the table, avoiding his gaze the whole time. "Seren, can we afford…?"

She sighed and looked at him wearily. "I'd argue we can't afford not to. We need to rest. Really rest, Fenris. When you're running and you're tired, you make mistakes. And we've been running for weeks. There are shutters on the window and a good lock on the door. Maker, we can drag the table in front of the door to bar it even more."

Seren crossed over to him, taking the bedrolls from his arm. "And we deserve this," she added firmly. "We will make more coin. I'm not worried about that. And things won't always be this nice, but right now we deserve to rest and recover and…." She looked over to the tub. "To be clean, to wash away…everything."

That he could understand. "All right."

She looked faintly surprised. "'All right?' Just like that?"

He shrugged lightly, taking his pack off and removing his wrap and cloak, and then carefully unbuckled his sword, leaning it against the wall. "As I've said, I trust you."

With a soft laugh, she shook her head. "I don't know why I keep expecting you to argue with me."

"Nor do I. I told you in Vyrantium that you were better at this than I."

"Yes, well, I'll make sure your faith in me is well placed. Now, do you want food or the bath first?"

"Food. You may bathe first."

Seren raised a brow archly. "Why, serah, are you trying to tell me that I smell?"

"I said no such thing. I would never."

Her false haughty expression melted into soft fondness. "I know. And I won't argue about who gets the tub first. I'll be quick."

"You don't need to…." But the words died in his throat as he watched her. Seren was already walking away, stripping her armor off and dropping the linen clothing beneath them to the floor, leaving a trail leading to the tub. She threw a look over her shoulder as she reached the edge of the tub, a teasing smile on her face.

As she stepped in and sank down, he remembered the soap. He opened the bag and rummaged until he found the paper wrapped bar. "Here," he said, crossing over and crouching down to hold it out to her.

She looked at it curiously and then shook water off her fingers, taking the bar. Unwrapping it carefully, delight lit up her face. She brought the bar up to her nose, sniffing carefully, her eyes closing as she inhaled. Then she opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Thank you, Fenris," she said softly.

Unaccountably, he suddenly had trouble swallowing past the lump in his throat. So he just nodded and stood up, walking back to the table and the waiting food.

There was far more than he was used to seeing, though it made sense, when one could buy what one wanted and not have to survive on the scraps their master gave them. The stew was simple, but the vegetables were fresh and the meat well trimmed. It was seasoned and there was richness to it he'd never experienced before. The bread was still warm, crusty on the outside, impossibly soft on the inside, the perfect thing to sop up the last traces of gravy in the bowl. There was even a small bottle of wine, which he left for Seren, instead choosing the cool water from the pitcher.

Just once did he glance at the door, to reassure himself that it was locked and no one could disturb his meal.

By the time he finished, he heard splashing as Seren stood up and pulled the plug to drain the water. Fenris watched, simply enjoying the sight of her clean and at peace. She caught him looking as she wrapped a towel around herself and replugged the drain, turning the taps to refill the tub with hot water. "Your turn."

He nodded, rising and stretching, realizing that now that he'd been able to stop he was feeling the effects of the last several weeks. It would be good to bathe and then finally get some rest.

Seren returned the favor of watching him as he stripped out of his armor and underclothes. For a moment he felt uncharacteristically embarrassed, though he had no reason to. His body and the choice to display it had never been his before. After a moment, the odd discomfiture passed. If he'd asked, he knew Seren would give him whatever privacy he asked for, and knowing that was enough to set him as his.

The water was hot as he stepped in and he bit back a groan as he eased himself down. This was how magisters bathed, and like the food, was something he also had no memory of experiencing. For long minutes he just sat, enjoying the heat sinking into weary muscle and bone. He closed his eyes, listening as Seren ate her own meal and then collected the dishes, moving the tray to the door to be set outside later.

With a sigh, he ducked under the water to thoroughly wet his hair. Best to get on with the actual act of taking a bath.

When he emerged, Seren was kneeling by the tub, and it caught him so off guard that he startled violently.

"Sorry, sorry!" she said quickly. "I should have waited until you could see me. Sorry."

"No, it's…it's fine," he said after a moment. "Do you need something?"

"No, I just wanted to…." She held a wine glass out to him, half-filled.

He reached out for it, hesitating before actually taking it. "You don't want it?"

Seren laughed a little. "Ah, serah, I'm afraid you've forgotten that you're with a Fereldan. I prefer ale. Sorry to disappoint your fine sensibilities."

He shook his head ruefully and took the glass, taking a tentative sip. Danarius had given him wine sometimes, never beyond a few sips, never without some ulterior motive, and he was curious about what drinking without expectation was like.

As he carefully tasted it, Seren got up and scooted around behind him. There was a pale flash of fabric and he turned to see her removing her towel and folding it under her knees. "What are you doing?"

"Shhh," she hushed him. "Let me."

She reached for a cloth and the soap he'd given her, working up a lather. "No," he started, "there's another bar—"

"Yes, I know. I found it. How good of you to buy laundry soap for us as well."

"No," he went on, "that's not—"

"Fenris." Her voice was serious and she waited for him to look at her. "Don't do that. Don't…don't martyr yourself. You deserve good things, too." He couldn't hold her gaze and looked away, turning back around without answering her.

Seren sighed, but didn't say anything else as she touched the cloth to the back of his neck and began to wash him.

"You don't have to," he managed to say, throat tight again. He set the glass down beside the tub, unwilling to trust his unsteady hand with it.

"I know. That's why I want to."

Fenris had no response.

The minutes stretched quietly between them as Seren washed his neck and back, then urged him to tip his head back to lave gently over the column of his throat and then down onto his chest.

He didn't understand the sudden hot prick of tears in his eyes or the way his breath suddenly hitched.

"It's all right," Seren murmured. "It's all right."

It wasn't, but Fenris didn't have the words for that either.

She gave him space and when his breathing evened out, she handed him the wash cloth. "You finish up. I'll get your hair."

It took him a moment to take the cloth from her, and another moment to begin dragging the cloth over his arms. Behind him, Seren carefully poured water over his hair to re-dampen it and then used the soap to work up a lather. She took her time, working her fingers firmly against his scalp. It pulled a groan from him and he slumped, just leaning into the sensation.

Seren's quiet laugh was throaty and triumphant and Fenris had a flash of memory of a different bathing room, his fingers in her hair, and the reaction it had provoked.

"Seren?" he asked quietly.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember in…when I braided your hair?"

Her hands stilled. "I do," she said quietly.

"I made you…I made you feel…." He struggled with the words.

She took a deep breath. "You did."

"It was the first…. I had…. I had never made anyone…."

"Fenris…."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't want…. You shouldn't have had…. I'm sorry," he finished hoarsely.

"Fenris." Fingertips touched his chin, turning his head to look at her. Her expression was solemn, but there was no anger in it, only deep understanding. "Do not apologize for any single moment of joy you brought me there."

"You didn't have a choice." The words were agony.

"No," she agreed. "I didn't. And you were doing nothing but helping." He opened his mouth again, but she shook her head. "You did nothing wrong. Don't apologize." She licked her lips. "I can't pretend to understand what this is like for you right now, and you don't need to explain or apologize. Just…just let it come? Or go? Whatever you need to do."

He wanted to say no, that they couldn't afford for him to be weak like this, but instead he found his head nodding.

"It'll be all right," Seren assured him. "Now, the water has to be cooling. Let me rinse your head. I think an early night, hm? Here, tip your head back and close your eyes."

She chattered about nothing as she rinsed the soap from his hair and held his hand and he stepped out of the bath, and he was silent as she sat him on the bench and gently dried him off. He watched her as she knelt at his feet, nothing like she had for Dananrius, and when she looked up and gave him that lopsided smile, he couldn't understand how or why it was for him.

Seren dropped the towel to the floor and held out a hand to him. "Come on," she said gently. "Let's get some sleep."

Holding his hand, she led him across the room and pulled back the covers for them to sleep between the sheets. Another first, Fenris thought, recalling the hard, narrow cot that was his only bed.

But this bed was soft and wide, the sheets gentle against his skin, and he found himself sinking down, reaching out to pull Seren to him.

Seren wouldn't lie. When she'd seen the bed in the room, she had immediately begun making plans. It had been months since they had been together, since before her ritual, and she wanted Fenris. A desire she knew he reciprocated. And things had been going well, and she was looking forward to the rest of the evening.

And then something had happened to Fenris.

She still wasn't sure what had done it, but she suspected it wasn't any one single thing. She supposed she should have expected it. There were times after a particularly close brush with the templars that her parents had been a little off, the fear and then the relief affecting them in unexpected ways. She'd felt that way herself more than once since they'd escaped Vyrantium, and she knew that she couldn't run from it forever.

That life was all Fenris had known. How much worse was it for him? For all that she had seen, she couldn't even begin to imagine what it had been like for him. That he could even feel this was a miracle.

And he felt so deeply. There were times she caught him looking at or watching her and the intensity of his gaze left her breathless. There was so much to him, so much love and so much hurt within him that she didn't know how he didn't go mad from it.

She hated Danarius for doing this to Fenris. She wanted to scream and tear the flesh from his bones, kill him over and over, just to inflict a fraction of the pain he'd given a man who was better and stronger than anyone else she had ever known. There were no words in any language to express how much she hated him, and she knew the hate would never stop. Even after he was dead, she would never stop hating him.

But that hate did no good right now. It didn't help. So instead she let Fenris pull her close, held him as he fell asleep, ran her fingers through his hair as he murmured and shifted uneasily.

So for tonight they would sleep, and in the morning she knew Fenris would tuck this vulnerability away. She would wait and watch for the next time it slipped free. And she would be there to hold him as he fought the second, harder battle for freedom.

She managed to fall asleep, and her sleep was deep and dreamless. She woke in the morning, warm in the sheets and in Fenris's arms, the room dim around them. She turned her head, finding that he was already awake, watching her with that steady green-eyed gaze.

"Morning," she said, voice sleep-rough. "Have you been awake long?"

"Long enough." He carefully brushed a wisp of hair out of her face. "It's still early yet. You should go back to sleep."

She hummed softly, considering, and then shook her head. "No. I think I'm awake. How did you sleep?"

He thought for a moment before quietly replying, "Well enough."

Seren accepted the answer for what it was. "We can take it easy today. Maybe go see what's on the Chanter's board, but we don't have to take any job today."

He nodded. "You think this board will offer us enough opportunity for coin?"

"Yes. Da used it all the time when we were growing up. It's hard for an apostate on the run to find a steady job. If it was enough for him to support a wife and three children, it'll be enough for the two of us. Especially since we could take some of the riskier jobs."

His lips thinned a bit at those words, but she saw the choice he made to let it go. "Very well."

She started to snuggle back down into his arms—just because she was awake didn't mean she needed to get up—when she remembered something else she had done yesterday.

"Oh!" she said sitting up. "I forgot. I got you something."

Fenris's arms tightened for a moment as she pulled against them in order to get up and then let go. Seren slipped out of bed and reached into her pack for the small bundle. Fenris sat up as she came back, a small frown between his brows. "Here," Seren said, handing him the item wrapped in a scrap of fabric. "A present."

"A present," Fenris repeated slowly. He unwrapped the cloth carefully and then just stared at the small book in his hands.

"It's only children's stories," Seren explained quietly. "But it's a good place to start." She looked up at Fenris. "You wouldn't let me teach you in Minrathous. Will you let me teach you now?"

Fenris's fingers traced over the worn gilt lettering on the cover before he met her gaze. "Yes. I think I would…like that."

"Good. We can start right now. Or maybe wait til the sun is up a bit more. It's easier to learn to read when you can actually read the letters."

"That doesn't seem like a better course of action." Seren smiled at the warmth in his voice and was about to settle down when it was Fenris's turn to sit up. "I also have a present for you. One moment."

She watched curiously as he went to his pack and fished out something small. He handed it to her as he climbed back into bed and she immediately opened the small leather pouch.

Her breath caught at the sight of the lockpicks.

"You can use them, right?" Fenris asked, uncertainty in his voice. "I saw you looking at the locks sometimes."

"Yes. Yes, I can use them. Fenris, I—" She looked over.

"So you can be what you were," he said quietly. "So you can be more than—"

She cut him off with a kiss. "Thank you. This means more than you know."

And there it was, the softness in his expression chasing away the worry. She closed the pouch, tucked it under her pillow, and settled herself against him, enjoying the peace that she'd somehow always found with him.

The Chanter's board had several promising jobs that it looked like they could handle, ranging from very simple gathering of ingredients and supplies to collecting money owed to even eliminating a few bandit groups that had drifted into the areas.

Taking care of the bandits paid the best, but Seren hesitated. "We don't have to kill them," she said carefully. "Just get rid of them."

"I'll take care of it," Fenris answered quietly.

"I'm not trying to push this off onto you. That wouldn't be fair. It's just—"

"Hawke."

The use of her last name caught her off guard. Fenris met her eyes, clear and certain.

"This is what I am. Let me use it for good."

"If you're sure…."

"I am."

"All right," she agreed, taking the slips of paper down, feeling guilty. "I'll take care of getting the money, then. Pretty sure we'll be able to intimidate them then."

"As you wish."

They put the jobs off until their third and last day in Hasmal. As it turned out, intimidating people to pay the debts they owed was very, very easy when Seren could reach into their chests and hold their hearts in her hand. And intimidating bandits into turning tail and running was a snap when Fenris ripped their leaders' hearts out.

It was risky to use their abilities like that it would make them easier to trace, but it would always be a balance. Better to have the coin now and worry about that problem later.

When they turned all the jobs in, their coin purse was significantly heavier than when they'd entered Hasmal. "If we're careful, this should get us all the way to Tantervale," Seren said. "There will be more opportunities there. If we're lucky, the jobs might be easier. Or we could find escort work, protecting travelers or merchants." She hefted the purse and grinned at Fenris. "But this is a very good start.

As it turned out, they made good use of their bed on their last night. They'd gone to bed like before and Seren had been content. There would be other opportunities and she was just glad Fenris was getting some desperately needed rest.

They'd been curled together, Fenris wrapped around her from behind and he'd moved the arm he had around her waist, drifting it down. Seren's breath caught as he paused. "Tell me to stop and I will," he said quietly, and she could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest as it was pressed to her back.

"Don't stop," Seren breathed. She twisted, turning in his arms. "Fenris, please—"

His mouth covered hers, cutting off her pleas as he pulled her closer.

It was different from anytime they'd been together before, both more desperate and somehow slower. And he was still so, so quiet. Someday, when he was ready, she would have him shouting her name so loud the Maker would hear. But for now, she called his name, savoring the little shudder that went through him each time.

After, they held each other, Fenris's face buried against her neck. And if he shook a little longer than normal, or there was dampness against her skin, it was no more than she did herself.

The first hunters found them just outside Tantervale.

They'd lingered too long in the city. The size of it, the number of people, it had given them a sense of safety, that they could just slip into the background and pass unnoticed. Seren had even managed to relax a little, and in turn Fenris had let go of his constant vigil.

A decision that came back to haunt them, as it turned out.

They were only just outside the city, far enough that the city guard could offer no help, having departed early in the morning in an attempt to make good time on their way to Florenvale. The road was empty, not many travelers heading in or out that early, and when the first armored figure stepped out into the road in front of them, it took Seren a too long moment to realize what was happening.

Fenris had no such delay. The figure hadn't even stopped moving before his sword was swinging off his back with a practiced ease that somehow managed to startle her. Inwardly cursing herself for a fool, she slipped her long daggers from their sheaths.

For all the months and months of training in Minrathous, and the jobs they'd taken so far, she and Fenris had never fought side-by-side before, not in any way that really tested them. She flicked her gaze in front and back of them, noting in dismay that there were at least a dozen, if not more. This wasn't like fleeing the darkspawn, mindless horrors that offered no tactics beyond rushing their prey. She thought of the hapless man in a Tevinter street, the only man she'd ever killed. He hadn't been a challenge. These men were trained and seasoned warriors. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.

"Hawke." That was all he said, just her name, but it was deep and sure. Seren felt herself steady. She wasn't alone. Beside her, Fenris was utterly still, his gaze fixed on the first man who had stepped into the road.

"Your master says if you come quietly, you won't be punished!" the man called to them, and Seren couldn't stop the snort of laughter at the absurd claim.

The hunters began to shift, waiting for the sign to attack. And yet Fenris was still.

"Hawke," he said again, and Seren looked over, briefly. The corner of his mouth was curled, the very beginning of a smile. He looked at her then, his eyes cutting to her. There was no fear in him, no trepidation. The look said more than could be put into words at that moment. They would fight and the hunters would know the folly of chasing this prey.

Oh. She loved this man.

He didn't even need to speak. She saw his muscles tense and knew. The instant he darted forward, she bolted in the opposite direction, heading for the men behind them.

The hunters weren't expecting that. Maybe other escaped slaves were more hesitant, maybe they waited for the hunters to come to them, maybe they gave up when they saw the trap closing. But Seren and Fenris weren't other escaped slaves, and these hunters wouldn't live to ever hunt anyone else.

Seren flew. She was among them, one blade opening a throat before the men even registered she was in their midst. The first man dropped, gurgling and grasping for a ruined throat, and then she was past them, turning to engage as the first hunter charged her.

In Lothering, she fought to escape.

In Tevinter, she fought to survive.

Here, she fought to live.

Later, she would have time to think about what had happened, despair over the senseless waste of life, confront what she was forced to become. But in the moment there was only steel against steel, the blood singing in her veins, the rush of determination that they would not take this—take him—from her.

She turned to see the last man fall, Fenris completing a swing of his greatsword. She looked around, noting that he'd felled all his opponents and come to her side to finish the last. He, too, looked around, making sure there was no further threat and then immediately reached for her. "Are you hurt?"

Seren shook her head, her own eyes looking over him. There was blood painted in streaks across him, but none of it was his own. He pulled her against him with his left arm, his right still holding his sword. For a moment, they just breathed, heads touching, until he nodded. "We should leave, quickly."

"Yes," she agreed, stooping to wipe her daggers on the cloak of a fallen hunter as Fenris did the same with his own blade. Then she resheathed them, eyes focusing on the fallen as she waited for Fenris to reholster his blade.

"Hawke." A pause, then softer, "Seren."

She looked up at Fenris and he stepped close, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. "You did well."

"I didn't…I've never…." Again, her gaze returned to the mean dead at feet, dead because of them. Because of her.

"I know." He forced her to look back at him. "You did well." He held her gaze.

"There will be more," she said quietly.

"Yes."

"We'll kill them, too."

"Yes."

Seren closed her eyes, leaned her head into his hands, and just breathed. "All right." She opened her eyes and nodded. "All right."

Fenris searched her gaze and found what he was looking for because he stepped back, letting his hands fall. Then he reached out and Seren took his hand, gripping hard, and they took off at a run, leaving behind the remains of the first of those who would see them back in chains.