I have been waiting for someone like you

But now you are slipping away...

Why, why does fate make us suffer?

There's a curse between us, between me and you.

~What Have You Done by Within Temptation~

Chapter Nine

Marian hummed the latest tavern ditty under her breath, heading for the Chanter's board to check on the newest job postings. In truth, Varric kept them supplied with almost more work than they could reasonably handle, but she liked helping average folk too.

She had already managed to save more than the fifty sovereigns required for the expedition into the Deep Roads, but for some reason she keep stalling, finding new excuses to put off the final preparations. She didn't want to examine her motives too closely, but she would soon be forced to stop stalling or miss out on the opportunity entirely. If that happened, she would never hear the end of it from Carver.

"Hey, Hawke, look at this one. A posting from a prince." Varric read the details and grinned widely. "Huh, good news. We already got rid of these Flint Company lowlifes he wanted disposed of. All we have to do now is go collect the reward."

"Really, a prince? Imagine that. We're moving up in the world, it seems," she answered absently, trying to inconspicuously eavesdrop on a rather distraught woman speaking to a templar.

She couldn't help herself, since she had become involved with Cullen, anything to do with templars instantly caught her notice. An altogether unhealthy obsession for an apostate.

Marian felt slightly better when she noticed Carver seemed to be listening just as intently. Either that, or he was eyeing out the woman, which really didn't bear thinking about.

"Did I hear you say your brother was missing?" she asked, walking up to the woman.

Varric strolled over to Carver and shook his head. "Is she already looking for more trouble? I thought we had enough to keep her occupied for the rest of the day."

Carver folded his arms and looked down at Varric. "Mari can't stand not to stick her nose in other people's business. She's always been like that. I suppose trouble is her middle name."

Rubbing at a smudge on Bianca's gleaming wood base, Varric smirked. "I thought her middle name was something far too unfortunate to ever be uttered aloud. Speaking of which, you wouldn't care to enlighten me while she's distracted, would you? I'll give you two gold for the information; I need to have something to threaten her with when she's beating me at cards."

Carver bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head. "She'll beat me if I ever tell, and with more than just her fists. Sorry dwarf, but she has too much dirt on me and I did give my word not to breathe that sad family fact to anyone." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and held his hand out. "Give me the two gold and I'll tell you how to find out, though."

Varric held up a hand. "I'll pay you if your information turns out to be any good, now spill."

Putting a hand to his face to cover his mouth, Carver spoke quickly in a low whisper. "Get my mother to tell you the story about her favorite great aunt, and it will all come out."

Marian walked back over to them after the woman left, a crease of concern between her brows at the disturbing things she had heard about the Knight-Commander. If she would abuse her own people in strange rituals and ignore it when recruits went missing, what wasn't the woman capable of?

Why hadn't Cullen mentioned a problem with missing recruits? Granted, it had been almost a week since she last saw him, but still… Perhaps some things just weren't spoken of to outsiders.

There was a nice, aging templar stationed inside the Chantry that she had chatted with on several prior occasions. He was a bit addled but agreeable. She decided to find out if he knew anything first, before going all the way to the Gallows and talking to Cullen.

The fact that Varric and Carver were both staring at her with completely guileless expressions instantly set off warning bells. "Alright, what have you two been scandaling about while I was busy, hmm? I know those innocent faces."

"We were just making a bet, Hawke, as to how many more poor sods you're going to end up helping before the end of the day, without making a single copper."

Marian looked taken aback. "That sounds like a terribly dull way to occupy yourselves. I thought you would at least be ogling Hightown ladies breasts, or something equally male." She shrugged when neither of them took the bait. "Let's go. I need to speak to someone in the Chantry."

"Who?" Carver fell into step on her left side out of long habit, and Varric took the right.

"Ser Wynstan. Some of the recruits have gone missing, including Macha's brother, that young lady I was just speaking with. He knows a lot more than he lets on, and I hope to talk him into sharing any information he has with me."

"More blasted templars," Carver muttered. "I think I'll wait for you out here."

"Suit yourself, brother," she said with a grin. "It's far easier to charm people when I don't have you glowering over my shoulder. You coming, Varric?"

Varric smiled. "I never miss a chance to watch you operate, Hawke. Even when it doesn't work out the way you plan, it's still entertaining."

They passed through the elaborately carved outer doors and into the cool interior, the air heavily scented with candle smoke, incense, and the sweat of dedicated worshippers. They had to wade through a thick cluster of people leaving, afternoon devotions having recently ended.

Hawke craned her neck, trying to see further back in the dim light. "He's usually somewhere near the alter. Oh, there he is."

She smiled engagingly and strolled up to the older man. It looked like his salt and pepper hair had actually been combed for once, a definite improvement.

"Good afternoon, Ser Wynstan, you're looking very dashing today."

He grinned widely, his chest jutting out slightly when he stood a bit straighter. "Good day, ah, hmm," he frowned and scratched his head. "Now don't tell me, I remember you're named after some type of bird. What was it again?"

Pouting, she rested a hand on her hip. "We agreed you would call me Marian the last time we spoke, remember?"

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, of course. I recall, certainly. How are you today? I trust you enjoyed today's sermon?"

"Absolutely. I got just as much out of it as I did yesterday's sermon. Actually, I overheard something distressing just now, and since we're friends I wanted to ask you about it."

Ser Wynstan nodded again, looking confused. "Jolly good, jolly good. How can I help?"

Hawke moved a little closer to him and pitched her voice to a low murmur. "I heard one of the templar recruits is missing and nothing is being done to recover him. Do you know why?"

He leaned a little nearer, happy to have a chance to pass on his gossip. "Many young recruits have been up to mischief, I hear. Spending all manner of time and coin in that den of iniquity, The Blooming Rose," he said in a harsh whisper, looking scandalized. "The poor Knight-Captain was even forced to go there and question some of those…women. Perhaps you could remember the brave man in your prayers. I should certainly never wish to have to set foot in such a place."

Marian felt a disturbing sense of foreboding settle over her, but smiled and tried to look relieved. "I'm very glad to know the templars have everything well in hand. It sets my mind at ease."

He patted her hand sympathetically and looked up when a man in white armor joined them and spoke.

"Ser Wynstan, your presence is requested in the north wing."

The templar looked startled, then pleased. "Thank you, Brother Sebastian, I'll go there directly." He turned to Hawke and smiled. "Maker watch over you, Marian. I hope you'll come and chat with me again, the next time you attend services."

She winked and nodded. "You can count on it."

He walked away and Varric stepped closer just as she realized the white-armored man was giving her a censuring look. His words had a soft, lilting quality, pleasing to the ear, and she wondered where he was from.

"You shouldn't take advantage of Ser Wynstan just to satisfy your craving for gossip, young lady. He is not as sharp as he once was, but he's a good man and deserves respect."

She raised a brow and glanced at Varric. "Is it me, or was I just verbally spanked by a stranger?"

Varric coughed to cover his laugh. "It wouldn't be the first time for you, Hawke."

The armored man crossed his arms and glared. "I am Sebastian Vael, Prince of Starkhaven and also a Brother in the Chantry."

Hawke snapped her fingers, looking pleased. "I believe you owe me coin for dealing with your little mercenary problem." Her eyes raked down his body critically. "Although, with that fancy armor, I wonder why you didn't sort them out yourself."

He looked shocked. "You…what? Who are you?"

She frowned. "I'm not sure." She turned to her friend. "Who are we today?"

Varric bowed with a flourish. "How do you do, Messere? I am Varric Tethras, and this here is Marian Hawke, defender of children and widows, and the right arm of vengeance to all the wronged in Kirkwall."

Sebastian gave her a dubious look while she grinned down at Varric and answered in a quiet aside, "You've been working on that, I see."

Varric shrugged, affecting humility. "I though you'd like it."

Sebastian raised a brow. "Even if I believed your unusual claims, what proof do you have that you've fulfilled the terms of the bounty?"

Hawke stared at Varric, clearly at a loss short of flippantly offering to fetch the heads of those they had killed. Pulling a gold chain with a locket from his waist pouch, the dwarf held it out.

"Recognize this? We got it off one of the bodies."

Sebastian took it and cradled it gently in his hand, the sadness on his face a look Hawke knew only too well. Her heart was moved by compassion for his suffering. "This belonged to someone special to you?"

He nodded, his voice low and full of emotion. "Yes, my mother; she was very special." He glanced up, his vibrant blue eyes burning with the same frustrated sorrow and need for revenge that Hawke herself felt when her sister was slain.

"It won't bring her back, but perhaps her spirit will rest more easily, now that her killers are no more."

He regarded her intently, some of the darkness lifting from his features when he examined the hilt of the enchanted sword sticking up above her shoulder. "You have done me a great service, and I thank you for it." He pulled a purse from his belt and held it out. Hawke hesitated, on the verge of refusing the coin when Varric took it and gave her a look.

"I'm not surprised," Sebastian mused, "that you had success. That is a holy weapon you carry, blessed by the Divine. May I ask how you came by it?"

Hawke chewed her lip, wondering if she was about to get Cullen in trouble. "It was a gift from someone very dear to me. He trusted me to wield it with honor, and I have tried my best to fulfill his wishes."

Sebastian nodded his approval. "Was it left to you by your father, or an elder brother, perhaps? Blessed swords of that quality are rare and often prized as family heirlooms."

Hawke colored in embarrassment. "I have no relations among the Templar Order, Serrah. It was given to me by someone…else."

Her words hung heavy in the air. Sebastian looked puzzled but didn't press her further for an answer. "Again, you have my thanks for your help. I have business I must attend elsewhere, but I bid you both a good day."

Hawke drew in a relieved breath when they were free of the Chantry and smiled to see Carver chatting at the bottom of the steps with Merrill. Somehow they always managed to end up together. She found herself wondering if Merrill had some sort of blood magic tracer on her brother, then immediately felt guilty. Merrill would never do anything like that. Would she?

Varric was tying the purse Sebastian had given him to his belt and Marian clicked her tongue chidingly. "Did you think I was going to refuse to accept payment from the Prince, Varric?"

He huffed a laugh. "I don't think, Hawke, I know. You felt bad for him and guilty for taking his coin. It's why you have me around, to remind you that even do-gooders require provisions and new equipment. The Deep Roads won't pay for themselves either." He gave her a sly look. "By my calculations, you should have more than enough coin saved for us to get the show on the road, and we already have the maps. Or is there another reason you're stalling? Maybe a certain dashing Knight-Captain? I also know all about Isabela's little gift to the two of you."

"Is there anything you don't know?" she asked in embarrassment and jogged away from the dwarf down the long flight of steps. She dearly wished there was a way to keep her romantic life private, but her friends loved to gossip, and frequently chose her as their favorite topic.

Grinning, Varric shook his head. "I don't know the color of your underwear or your middle name yet, Miss Hawke, but just give me time. Give me time." He twirled an arrow expertly between his fingers and whistled a jaunty tune while moving to catch up with the group.

Rubbing a weary hand across her forehead, Marian leaned against the stone pillar outside the Blooming Rose and looked at her companions. Breaking the spell over her mind that the whore, Idunna, had cast on her had taken a great act of will, as her throbbing temples bore witness. When she held her dagger to Idunna's throat, she had eagerly told them all about the plot to destroy the templars from within, through blood magic and demonic possession, and even gave up the location of their secret hideout and how to disarm all the traps. Stabbing her through the heart had felt more like a mercy killing than turning her over to the templars. Maker only knows what they would have done to her.

"I don't like this, Mari," Carver growled. "We should go clear out that pit of snakes before they cause more trouble, but what if they get control of our minds, or even make us turn on each other?"

Merrill frowned. "That won't be a problem, Carver. I'll be on the lookout for any blood thrall spells and be sure to keep you all safe."

He looked surprised, his anger instantly diverted. "Oh. Well. Thanks, Merrill. I suppose we should go right away."

Marian nodded and pushed away from the pillar. Their destination was Darktown, and she only hoped it wasn't too late for the poor recruits.

"Shit," Marian whispered, having accidentally knocked into a barrel of something foul-smelling that sizzled where it spilt across the dirt floor.

Varric put out a hand to block her. "Look out, Hawke, you don't wanna step in any of that. It's an acidic poison, it'll eat right through your boots."

They crept quietly down a darkened hall and emerged into a large, open area. Varric stealthed and disappeared through a doorway, returning several moments later with a puzzled frown. "It's abandoned, Hawke, nobody's here."

"Somebody's here," Carver said, boldly walking to the other end of the room where someone was whimpering pitifully.

They followed Carver and examined the person suspended in blue light before them.

"It's a magical prison," Merrill added thoughtfully. She raised her hand and whispered a spell, then gave Hawke an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but he's held by blood magic. There's no other way to release him."

Hawke sighed and nodded. Merrill drew her small dagger and chanted in elvish, slashed a cut onto her palm and flung droplets of blood at the blue shield. It dissipated and Keran landed on the floor with a thud and a groan.

Kneeling down, Hawke helped the mostly naked Keran to struggle to a sitting position. "Keran? Can you hear me?"

He tensed and looked at the faces surrounding him, then sagged against Marian, turning to look her in the eye. "Yes, I hear you just fine. You're real, aren't you? Is it over? Did you kill those blood mages?"

She gave Merrill a warning look, and the little elf nodded subtly and wandered back toward the entrance. "Varric, could you try to find him some clothing, or see if they kept his armor?" Varric nodded and he and Carver went to search while she angled herself to support Keran more comfortably.

"Just relax. No one else will hurt you. Your sister was very worried about you, and I came to find you and bring you back. Do you think you can walk, perhaps in a few minutes?"

His face scrunched in anger. "You didn't answer my question."

She exhaled a breath upwards, sending the hair across her forehead fluttering. "No, Keran. You were the only one here when we arrived, but I did execute Idunna when she tried to ensorcell me. Does that help?"

"Some." He leaned away from her slightly, resting his weight on his palm.

Hawke stood and moved a few feet away, sensing he needed space. Carver and Varric returned with armor, boots and clothing, and dumped all of it next to the templar.

"My brother, Carver, will stay and help you dress, Keran. Varric and I will wait for you out front." Carver looked less than pleased but didn't protest aloud, his eyes more than speaking his annoyance for him when he glared at her.

Varric disabled a couple of traps they had missed on the way in, and when Carver finally emerged with Keran, the recruit was dressed in his templar armor and looking stronger than he had before.

Hawke had already asked Varric to see Merrill safely home. She asked Keran for directions and instructed Carver to go to Macha's house and let her know her brother was safely back at the Gallows, while she intended to accompany Keran and go and speak to Cullen about her findings.

Keran stayed quiet until they had made their way to the docks and were seated on the boat and underway. "You won't tell the other templars about what happened to me, will you?" He looked down in shame. "It would grieve my sister if she knew I let Wilmod talk me into going to the brothel. She's never liked him."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "I would keep your secret if I could, Keran, but I must tell the Knight-Captain about the plot against your Order. The culprits are still on the loose, and I'm sure you wouldn't want your brother templars to fall prey to the same thing you suffered."

Keran exhaled and looked at her, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "I wouldn't wish what I experienced on anyone. It was horrible. Awful. A naked woman with her claws in my chest. Always trying to force her way inside me. Offering me things…people. I-" His fingers raked through his hair and he blushed. "One of them even tried to trick me into believing it was you."

Marian chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. "It's fine, Keran. It sounds like a desire demon. They pick images from our minds. Things they think we might want." She smiled wanly. "I'm sorry one of those awful spirits wore my face to torment you."

"No!" he exploded. "They couldn't fool me. It was nothing like you, you would never do or say-" He broke off and looked away. "I don't really know you, but what little I know of you…I wasn't deceived. I only hope Knight-Captain Cullen will believe I resisted everything they offered."

She smiled kindly. "I'm sure he'll believe you, Keran. You might even be surprised to discover he also had a bad experience with blood mages once. If you ask, he might even have some advice that can help you deal with the experience."

"Really?" He looked hopeful. "I will ask him, thank you, miss."

"You can call me Marian, I don't mind."

He nodded respectfully, the barest hint of a smile on his face. "Thank you, Miss Marian."

She rolled her eyes and chuckled, standing to follow him off the boat. They walked from the docking area to the main courtyard and Keran was quickly surrounded by his fellow recruits.

"Keran, where have you been? Where is Wilmod?" A dark-haired man asked.

Hawke stepped forward and gave them all a stern look. "Keran has been feeling unwell and spent a bit of time in Kirkwall. I suggest you give him some space if you don't want to catch something." He gave her a grateful look. "Could one of you tell me where the Knight-Captain is? It's urgent I speak with him as soon as possible."

A young woman stepped forward. "Wilmod came back earlier but then left again. He said he wanted to take a walk along the coast to clear his mind. Knight-Captain Cullen went after him a short while ago. You should still be able to catch him if you hurry."

Hawke gave a curt nod and turned and dashed back to the boats, her mind racing. According to what Idunna had told them, Wilmod was one of the recruits who they had successfully implanted with a demon. If she told the truth, Cullen was in for a nasty surprise out on his own.

With pounding heart and hands sticky with nervous sweat, Marian broke into a run, her breath coming shorter and shorter. Still, she pushed herself onward, following the winding trail leading away from the city and praying she wasn't too late.

Please, Maker, don't let anything bad happen to him.

The sun was well on it's way to setting, the slanting rays shining directly in her eyes and adding another unwelcome element. She couldn't help but remember the last time she had come down this path with Cullen. Definitely a more agreeable occasion.

She stopped briefly to bend over and rest her hands against her knees, but fear for Cullen had her moving again before the brief respite could do her any good. She passed the overlook where she and Cullen had come, but there was still no sight of him.

It was another ten minutes before she was forced to stop again, and dusk was pressing in all around, lengthening the shadows and changing the friendly vegetation to menacing dark spaces where danger could lurk.

A flash of light caught her eye just beyond the next rise. She stumbled forward, forcing the burning muscles in her legs to carry her up another hill. She gasped at what she saw before her.

Five shades, an abomination, and a rage demon were swarming around Cullen. He fended them off with his sword and shield as best he could, but his back was against the stone wall and even from the distance she was at, she could clearly see he was badly wounded and bleeding heavily.

She shouted to draw the attention of the demons and sprinted down the hill as quickly as she could without falling. Marian had never wished for her brother and his big sword, or one of her skilled companions as fervently as she did in that moment. How were the two of them ever going to fight off so many demons, and with Cullen injured too?

Drawing her sword and dagger, she rushed forward but was soon surrounded and in serious danger. Painful hits rained against her body from all directions, and she grew increasingly frustrated at her ineffective defense.

The rage demon disappeared from sight and she spun warily while continuing to attack the shades as best she could. She was familiar with a rage demon's surprise method of attack, yet it still managed to come up behind her and paralyze her for several precious seconds.

Her sword went flying from her hand when a shade struck her, and she released an enraged scream from the pit of her stomach and reached for the Fade with all her might, magical fists appearing and rending the shade in two.

Somehow, Cullen had managed to keep the abomination that was Wilmod, solely focused on him, and eventually managed to vanquish it while Marian was busy. His shock and horror at seeing her casting spells with the ease of a seasoned enchanter was more painful to him than the agony of his wound. He almost thought it a trick of the eyes, but his templar sensibilities couldn't be denied. She fought with magic, and it was powerful.

Marian mind blasted the other demons away with telekinetic force and summoned a gravitational ring to pull the demons into the center while she alternated ice and lightning spells, slowly killing them and scrambling to pick up her sword and cast a final ice spell on the rage demon. While it was frozen, both she and Cullen attacked it with their swords and Cullen bashed it with his shield, shattering it completely.

Dropping her sword from numb fingers, Marian closed her eyes, gasping loudly for air and shaking with shock and fear, unable to grasp the full reality of what had just happened. She opened her eyes to find Cullen's sword pointed at her, his face harsh and angry. He had dropped his shield in favor of clutching his bleeding side, but he was still on his guard.

She was seized by the mad desire to laugh. Wasn't it just the sort of thing she should expect from her life, that the man she loved would hold a sword to her neck with intent to kill? If she were a betting woman, she wouldn't take her odds for anything. But he wasn't just any man, was he? Cullen was a templar, and she was a mage who had tried to keep impossible secrets.

Still breathing heavily, she held his gaze and stepped forward, bringing the point of his sword into contact with the skin at the base of her throat. She barely felt the sting when it broke the surface and bit into her flesh, warm blood beading against cold steel.

"Do it, if you truly think me a monster." Her throat was dry and the words came out strangely. Her entire focus was on Cullen. So much so that she didn't even register the tears that streaked down her face, coursing through the sweat and dust there.

His face went though an array of expressions that she watched with an almost curious detachment. She catalogued them for the sake of memory should he actually allow her to live through the night.

First anger, then sadness when he let his gaze stray to his blade at her neck. After that, his face flushed red with pure rage and he flung his sword away with a cry like a wounded animal.

He stumbled back and fell to his knees, bending over and pressing both hands to the wound that continued to bleed, crimson rivulets seeping between his fingers and staining his gauntlets.

Marian wasted no time, closing the distance between them and reaching for the buckles on his breastplate. He didn't protest or move while she worked them all open, except to help her lift it off of him, grunting in pain when the small movement pulled at his wound. She reached for the edge of his tunic and began to pull it up so she could see how badly he was injured. Her breath caught in her throat at how deeply the demonic claws had ripped into his side, slicing through skin and muscle, it was like looking at raw meat at the butchers.

"Why didn't you tell me, Marian? You should have told me." His voice was so low and quiet she almost didn't hear the question. Trying to hide the panic she felt at having to attempt to heal his wound herself, she tried to think of a suitable answer. She had deliberately deceived him from the very beginning. What excuse could she offer, really?

Sorry for being a lying prat, but I thought you might decide to kill me or make me tranquil. Forgive and forget?

Marian shook her head and tried to recall the lesson Anders had given her on healing, but she couldn't remember what she had done to make it work, and Andraste's pyre! there was so much blood.

"Should I have mentioned it after you said mages weren't people, or I should have perhaps waited, until after you declared mages were monsters who would destroy cities with magical fire in a fit of pique, hmm? Those comments clearly erased any worry I might have had that you would act against me."

She hovered her hands above his wound and braced herself, slowly drawing forth cool healing from her well of mana when something went wrong with the spell. A quick surge of power passed through her, hot and strong, and forced Cullen's wound to close instantly with a loud sizzling sound, like fat frying over an open fire.

A strangled cry of pain forced itself from his throat. Her eyes widened in alarm when he grabbed her wrists and tackled her, rolling her beneath him and pulling the mana from her body forcefully. His harsh breaths sounded loud against her ear while she coughed weakly, reflexively, just as she had the only other time she had experienced a mana drain.

She couldn't even draw enough breath to explain she hadn't botched the spell on purpose, and that she was generally lousy at healing. Marian felt the quick drumming of his heart against her, through the thin layers of fabric that separated them. Her own was racing just as fast.

"Why?" His voice held all the hurt and betrayal she had feared, and more. She closed her eyes, feeling more beaten down and defeated than she ever had at any time in her life before. There was wetness against her cheek and she wondered if the tears were hers or his.

"What do you want me to say, Cullen?" Her voice broke on his name and she swallowed and gulped air. "I'm sorry I deceived you." Her voice faded to a whisper of sound. "I'm sorry I'm cursed, so desperately sorry. More than you'll ever know."

His breath came more ragged with each exhalation. "Maker, Marian, why? You used me. Did you plan it all out?" His fingers tightened around her wrists in a punishing grip. "Did you laugh with your friends that I was so easily fooled? That I was so easily taken in by your charm and beauty? Your feelings for me were a lie too, weren't they?" His voice grew harsher and he jerked her arms, wanting an answer.

She was crying openly now, his accusations cutting into her like shards of jagged glass, tearing open her heart and hemorrhaging her lost happiness into the sand like discarded rubbish.

"I never, I swear I never did…there was no plan. I love you…" The sob was trapped in her throat when he pressed his lips against hers, hard, punishing, the mingled tears across their lips tasting of sorrow, dirt, and bitter regret.

He pulled away suddenly and released her, wiping at the wetness on his cheeks. Standing, he gathered his weapons and discarded armor with jerky movements while she lay where he left her, like a frozen statue. Cullen never turned to look at her, but stood with his back to her for long moments, the silence loud between them. When he spoke again, he sounded almost normal except for an odd flatness to his words.

"You once asked me to imagine how I would feel if it were someone I loved that was cursed with magic." He paused, flexing a steel covered fist. "I don't have to imagine it anymore. Goodbye, Marian Hawke. May the Maker grant you mercy; I'm just not sure I can."

He walked away and didn't turn around or look back. Marian watched until he was out of sight to see if he would, and felt her last wisp of hope sink like a stone. Curling into a tight ball, she wept for all that they had lost, and all the things that would never be.

Reviews are loved!