Summary: What happens between Anders and Aria is for nobody's eyes but their own. Some lemons, mainly drabbles of various types. Chapter 2 onward.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the unsated desire for more skin in DA2.

Queen's Quornor: This has been, hands-down, the chapter that has taken me the longest to write of any I have ever written. I've had this plotbunny hopping around in my head for more than a year about what would happen if Sebastian caught up to Anders and Hawke, and one of my reviewers gave me a secondary idea about it when she mentioned how much she hoped Hawke would get preggers. That eventually turned into this. Hopefully the next chapter won't take nearly so long to get out of my head and down on paper.

Consequences

"...and thus you, maleficar Anders, are sentenced to death tomorrow at dawn."

"No!" Aria strained against the hands of the templars holding her, her violet eyes saturated in desperation. "You can't do this! He isn't a maleficar!"
"He is responsible for the demise of Grand Cleric Elthina, and all the priests and adherents present at the time of the explosion." Sebastian slid cold blue eyes across her, his silver band of a crown gleaming harshly in the flickering light of the candlebra. Resplendent in his white-enameled armor and the blue cloak of a crowned prince, he presented a vision of righteous royalty. To Fenris, leaning against the shadowed wall where he could watch the proceedings, this Sebastian cut a significantly different figure from the would-be priest he had known a few years ago. He looked harder, less forgiving or accepting than he recalled. This was a Sebastian who devoted himself not to living by the Chantry's laws, but according to his vengeance.

"He is to be a father! Surely you would not deprive an unborn infant its sire?"

The harsh frown deepened. "Were I you, I would worry less about his life than your own, Hawke."

Fenris bit his cheek to keep from voicing his dissent. He had tried to warn them. When word had gotten to him that Starkhaven's forces were closing on Aria and Anders, the elf had nearly killed himself in an attempt to reach them first. But he had been too late; by the time he had arrived at the Rivaini village where they had been sheltering, they were already in custody. All he could do was join the soldiers in the hopes of freeing his friend and her lover, given the opportunity.

The Maker had been against him there, too. The two apostates were guarded so closely there had been no chance to set them loose, and all Fenris could do was offer silent support as he followed the small army back to Starkhaven. He had bitten his tongue as they were paraded through the streets in shackles, mocked by the people and pelted with garbage as the local templars dragged them along to the local keep. Now they were facing the judgment of a seething Sebastian, and Fenris knew in his heart that there would be no mercy.

"He isn't as responsible as you think! Justice has been quiet since that day; Anders has been regaining himself! The idea came from the spirit, not the man!" Aria's protests choked off as a gauntleted fist came down upon the small of her back, impacting upon one of her kidneys, rendering her temporarily immobile with obvious pain. Unable to fight, she sagged in the templars' hold, her head rolling to stare at the floor and her scarlet hair falling to hide her tear-filled eyes. "Please, spare his life... I beg you..."

Sebastian ignored her pleas, shutting his eyes to the picture of vulnerability and impending motherhood.

For his part, Anders had not said a word since the sentencing began. He merely knelt on the floor before the raised throne, surrounded by templars with drawn swords, his eyes fixed upon some point on the tiles. To Fenris, it appeared the apostate had resigned himself to whatever fate his former companion chose for him. Aria was the one fighting tooth and nail, when she had merely played the part of his unknowing accomplice in the Chantry's destruction.

"What of Hawke and the child?" the elf ventured. "Surely they won't be punished for his crime?"

Sebastian opened his eyes and turned his attention to him, the azure depths glittering with malice. Fenris had to surpress a shudder; of all his companions, this pious man was the last he would have expected to show such an expression. "The apostate Hawke shares responsibility for the Chantry murders. Although she claims she did not know the true reason Anders was gathering drakestone and sala petrae, she willfully agreed to help him in both collecting the materials and distracting the Grand Cleric while he set the charges. Therefore, while we will never discern if she was told what he was planning, the blood is as much on her hands as on her partner's." He sneered at her, and Fenris felt his anger flare. "Her punishment is clear, but the child compounds the matter. So my judgment is this: she will witness her precious Anders' hanging tomorrow. Following that, she will be sequestered in a room within this palace, kept under lock and key and guarded around the clock by experienced templars. A midwife will visit her daily, so she cannot give birth in secret and conceal the child. Once she has delivered, she will be hung. The child will be given to the local Chantry and raised according to Andraste's teachings. Should it display magical talent, it will be given to the Circle."

Aria sobbed and tears sprinkled the floor beneath her suspended body. Anders kept silent, but Fenris noted how his jaw clenched and his eyes closed.

The elf, too, had to forestall a need to scream in denial. This was not justice. Anders had to pay for what he did, nobody could deny that, but Aria and the child were blameless. The apostate had spoken the truth those years ago, that he had concealed his intentions so she would not stop him. If anybody could have talked him out of such drastic measures, it was Aria.

"What about you?" he could not help saying. "Why didn't you say that he was snooping around the Chantry, possibly doing something illegal? You saw us speaking to Elthina, and I know you were suspicious when Anders approached us at the altar. You could have ruined his plans simply by joining the conversation. So why didn't you?"

Sebastian flushed and the malice multiplied. "How could I have known what he was planning? I am no mage."

"How could Hawke have known? She had never heard of those ingredients before Anders brought them to her attention; how could she have realized they were to be used in a manner different from what she had been told?" Fenris saw the prince's eyes narrow and pressed his advantage. "She loved him. She was devoted to him, completely without reservation. He had never given her a reason not to trust him. She could not have imagined he would take advantage of her devotion in such a way. Surely you cannot condemn her to death for simple ignorance, not when you and I both know she would have stopped him had she been aware of his intentions."

Sebastian considered him for a long time, rubbing his thumb along his jaw in thought. Anders looked back to his partner, and Fenris saw his wince when he noticed the tears slipping down her cheeks. Real emotion flooded the apostate's eyes, a combination of chagrin, regret, and a sorrowful shadow of the love they shared. Fenris would never forgive him for using Aria's trust to achieve his goals, but he truly wished he had been able to warn them before the Starkhaven forces caught up with them. That was not the same man he had known in Kirkwall.

"You make a very good point, Fenris," the prince finally admitted. "Very well. I will not condemn Hawke to the noose. But neither will I risk giving her to the Circle. She has become a powerful symbol to the mages, and chances are they would rebel if she was placed within their midst. But there is a way for her to live her life and remain useful as the Chantry dictates, and still be punished for her part in the slaughter."

The room seemed to hold its breath. Both apostates stiffened, and Fenris felt his heart beginning to race. Surely he could not mean...

"Once the child is born, Hawke will submit to the Rite of Tranquility."

"No!" The cry erupted from Anders' lips, and the templars around him all dug their swords into his flesh as he jerked forward, his expression desperate. "You can't do that to her! She's not eligible!"

"On the contrary." Sebastian seemed to be enjoying himself. "Hawke is not a Circle mage. She has never undergone the Harrowing. That means she is fully eligible for the Rite of Tranquility, regardless of her status as Champion of Kirkwall."

Fenris watched Aria slump further, her legs curling beneath her swollen belly, the tears falling faster now. He could not remember ever seeing her so helpless, so vulnerable. Compared to the fiery, passionate woman he remembered, the crying female hanging in the templars' hands seemed a tragedy. The idea of her bright spark being smothered by a Chantry sunburst was akin to blasphemy in his mind.

"Are you sure that's wise? Once word spreads that she has been made Tranquil, mages will rise in protest. She is their hero, after all."

The prince glared at him. "I think it's entirely fitting. Her love and trust is what placed her in this position; once she is Tranquil, she will never trust so implicitly and thus can never be used in such a way again. That aside, the mages will be less willing to revolt if we use her as an example of what awaits those who refuse the Chantry's laws. It really is a better solution than simply executing her, and I thank you for bringing it to my attention, Fenris," he added, turning away with a swish of his cloak.

The elf bit his tongue, hating Sebastian for pinning the idea on him. Making Aria into a spiritless Tranquil was the last thing he could have wanted. But there was little more he could do for her now. Her fate was decided, as was Anders'.

He watched the captive couple being dragged from the throne room by no less than twelve templars, aware that Sebastian's chilly gaze once more rested upon him. Aria's head still lolled forward and every now and then a helpless sob shook her shoulders, but otherwise she offered no resistance. Anders, however, caught his eye as he was taken away. Within the amber depths, Fenris read a desperate plea. Not for himself, but for the woman they both loved.

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There were times, Fenris reflected, when being tattooed with lyrium was nothing short of useful. He had long since learned that phasing had other uses apart from crushing an opponent's heart within his hand; during his final year in Kirkwall, he had perfected a method of passing through walls and doors by phasing his entire body. He had to use it carefully because activating the lyrium flooded his general area with brillant azure light, but the ability was more than worth the risk on occasion.

This was one such instance. Aria and Anders had been locked in a single cell within the keep's dungeon, and a number of templars were stationed at every door leading to their quarters. But for all this caution, the door to their cell was left unguarded. It seemed that so long as they were kept drained of mana, the knights believed the couple presented no threat.

Clearly they did not know these apostates very well, Fenris thought with a grim smirk.

He had managed to sneak into the keep's cellars, and phased into the dungeons below them. From there his journey had involved sneaking and clandestine phasing, but to his utter relief no templar had noticed his passage. Several of them were involved in lively discussion of what they would do to the beautiful Champion once she was made Tranquil. Fenris only just managed to stop himself from breaking their necks, aware that defending her honor now would only result in two necks for the hangman tomorrow. It was bad enough that she was going to lose Anders.

Most of the cells were empty, but a few were occupied by shivering wretches in tattered robes. Sebastian, it seemed, had been hunting apostates in general rather than just Aria and Anders. Fenris pursed his lips and ignored the pleading, haunted eyes that stared at him from dark corners as he paced down the dank corridor. Maker only knew how many of them actually deserved to die, and how many were innocent. That aside, freeing them would only jeopardize his chances of helping his dearest friend.

He found them in the darkest cell, farthest from the door. Likely it was chosen so the other prisoners would have to watch them be dragged away in the morning for Anders' execution. Pushing aside the anger that erupted at the thought of that humiliation, Fenris looked at his friend and her partner. They were huddled together on the splintering, filthy cot that occupied one wall of the cell, too absorbed in themselves and their fates to take notice of him. Anders had wrapped Aria in his arms and pulled her sideways against his chest, keeping his cheek pressed to her hair. One of his hands rested atop her swollen belly, lightly stroking over her thin robes in an effort to touch their child. Aria's arms were looped around his neck, and the gleaming tracks of her tears shone in the flickering light from the torches which lined the corridor. As he watched, a few more gleaming droplets slid down her cheeks to fall from her narrow chin.

He tapped lightly against the bars of their cell, trying to rouse them from their little cocoon of self-pity. Aria's violet eyes flicked towards the disturbance, then widened as she sat up. "It's you!" she whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to get you both out of here. Why else would I be here?" Fenris held up a set of lockpicks. His relationship with Isabela had not lasted beyond their time in Kirkwall, but she had at least taught him how to spring a lock. With his nimble fingers, he was surprisingly good at it.

Anders untangled himself from his lover and stood, coming to the door. "That's why you followed us here, isn't it? I thought you only wanted Aria free."

"Of course I want her free, but she'll be miserable without you." He glanced down the hall, wary of any templars who might come to taunt the condemned couple before sunrise. "I believe the two of you have spent enough time in here. Are you ready to go?"

Aria nodded. "They took our staffs, but we don't need them to fight. Once we're out of these dungeons, we can defend ourselves. Until then, however, you're going to be our only protection."

"I have no idea how he did it, but the Knight-Commander set up a system that constantly drains our mana so long as we are down here. It works on all mages, not just us," Anders explained. "Outside the dungeons, the templars take care of draining us themselves."

So even if he was to allow Aria to recharge her spiritual energy from the lyrium in his body, as he had a few times in Kirkwall, it would merely last but a few moments. Fenris' lips thinned; of course it wouldn't be that easy to break out of here. "I doubt the templars will be all that vigilant, then. If they are so used to guarding the weak and defenseless, they will have no inkling of what I can do to them."

He made short work of the lock, and the two apostates crept out of their cell. Knowing that they would remain close, Fenris began to lead them down the hall, to the first pair of guards.

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The templars never knew what hit them. Sebastian had posted a decent number of guards in the dungeon, but Fenris' ability to phase his body was something beyond their ken. Even better, Aria could help him now that she had picked a sword off one of the bodies. The elf was quietly grateful that he had taken the time to teach her swordplay back in Kirkwall; their escape would be much more difficult if he alone was defending them.

With each group of guards, Fenris would sneak ahead and crush the heart of the nearest templar. Aria would then follow as he engaged the other guards, using her stolen sword to stab and cut into the backs of his opponents. It wasn't ideal by any stretch of the imagination, but it worked, and with her advanced state of pregnancy Aria didn't dare risk a hand-to-hand confrontation. Anders merely stayed in the back, unable to do much more than watch their backs. He had tried to learn swordplay as well, attending his lover's lessons faithfully, but he just didn't have the talent for bladework that Aria did. Unlike her, he was a pure mage.

Between the two of them, however, the templars were falling like flies. They had made it out of the dungeon proper and were in the palace itself, just a guardroom away from freedom. Fenris remembered this particular room - the six guards were packed in fairly tight, and there were a good number of them. Enough to make this final stretch a serious challenge.

"Do you feel your magic yet?" he whispered to the two apostates.

They shook their heads. "The dampening effect is within the palace as well. Neither of us have been able to use our mana since we were first brought here," Anders murmured back.

"Then be ready for a fight." The elf rolled his shoulders, then silently began padding towards the guardroom. Aria followed close behind, and Anders trailed after her, watching the hall they had just vacated.

By the time he got to the doorway, four of the men were already down. Fenris had engaged the remaining pair, and Aria clung to the wall near the curtain, awaiting her chance to ruin an unwary assailant's day. The elf's swordwork, always precise and graceful, had taken on a new aspect of fury, and he made short work of the two guards in quick succession.

Anders flicked a stunned glance his way as he picked his way across the blood-slicked floor to the corpse with the fanciest armor, whom he assumed was the guard-captain. Fenris merely shook his head. He did not feel the need to explain himself to his long-time rival. All the apostate needed to know was that he was killing for Aria, and the life she carried.

"Keys?" the pregnant woman hissed, wrapping her arms about her belly. Her violet eyes flicked between her lover, her friend, and the two doors leading from the room.

"Keys." Anders held up the brass ring, displaying a pair of dull metal implements.

"Open it." Fenris took up a guard position before his friend, shielding her as Anders fitted the key to the lock and turned it. They all tensed as the portal swung open.

Nothing greeted them but an empty road and the moon overhead.

Fenris looked back to Aria, and she shrugged. "Let's take it as it is," she suggested quietly. "Perhaps we've been lucky, and no one has noticed that we've escaped."

"And Varric has been portraying you as an icon of virtue and purity." Her lover snorted and extended his hand to her. "Come on. Let's not waste our good fortune. I cannot wait to be away from this place."

"I could not agree more. I want to find a safe place for us to go, so we can raise our family." She took his hand, gripping the fingers tight.

"How much longer do you have until you deliver, Hawke?" Fenris asked, eyeing her bulging robes.

"Not long. Less than a month, I think." She gave him a nervous smile, then turned her attention back to the road. "Let's go."

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"Have we made it?" Aria turned fearful eyes back towards the distant walls of Starkhaven. Her hand visibly tightened upon Anders', reflecting her unease. Fenris knew exactly how she felt. Their escape seemed too easy, too convenient. He glanced about, trying to determine if they had truly gotten away, or if this was merely an elborate trap.

Trap, he realized. The men springing up from the tall waves of yellowing grass proved that his focus had been far too narrow. Worse, Sebastian and the Knight-Commander were present. There were enough swords, spears, and arrows pointed Aria's way that he dared not move.

"I had not thought you this reckless, Fenris," Sebastian remarked, slowly pacing towards them. "I was prepared to offer you clemency, as you were in no way connected to the murder of Grand Cleric Elthina. I had even considered asking you to become my personal bodyguard, out of the friendship we fostered back in Kirkwall. But this, I feel, negates both of those offers."

The Knight-Commander stepped up, broadsword held ready. "Drop your weapons! The Prince of Starkhaven commands you stand down, and in the Maker's name I shall bring these filthy maleficarum to justice. Niether shall live to see the sun crest the horizon!"

"No! You can't do this! What of my child? You would not take an innocent life; it goes against everything the Chanty stands for!" Aria pressed her hands to her belly, curling forward slightly with a pinched look on her face. Fenris glanced at her, wondering why she appeared to be in pain. She had not taken any wounds during their skirmishes, at least none that he recalled. "Mage or not, Andraste considered a babe's life sacrosanct!"

"But it has yet to draw its first breath! That means it does not live yet; the Maker will smile upon me for ridding Thedas of a future maleficar, along with its cursed parents!" The Knight-Commander's eyes shown with a zealotry Fenris had not seen since Meredith. That unfeeling, ruthless cunning that combined logic with utter devotion, and a mind twisted beyond all repair. This man was cut from similar cloth, that much was clear. Even Sebastian had to stare at him, despite putting arrow to bowstring.

"Ser Baxter, the babe remains a babe, whether it is unborn or resting in its mother's arms. We agreed to deal with Fenris and Anders. Hawke is to remain in my care until the child is born, and then submit to the Rite."

"Both of its parents are abominations. What think you the chances that this mage-spawn is pure?" Ser Baxter spat in Aria's general direction, hatred blazing in his bright green eyes. "For all we know, the Champion could have already bound a demon to her womb. She could give birth to a true abomination, a human child with the soul of a demon!" He raised his blade, already striding closer to Aria, who shrank back a little. Fenris and Anders moved to block his path, regardless of the forest of spears and swords surrounding them.

Sebastian laid a hand upon his shoulder. "I am your prince, and I command that you step down, Knight-Commander. This is my duty, more than yours."

The other man gave the prince a baleful glare. "You relinquished your holy vows the moment that crown touched your brow. You have no jurisdiction over me, Your Highness."

"I am the one who placed you in charge of the Templar Garrison at Starkhaven, Ser Baxter. I can have you replaced and shipped back to Orlais by tonight, if you do not stand down."

Ser Baxter's lip curled in the ugliest sneer Fenris had ever seen, but he lowered his sword and stepped back. Satisfied, Sebastian raised his bow.

"It is good that you came out here, Anders," he commented. "I would not wish to subject my people to the horror of an abomination's execution. By traveling outside the city, you have spared them that sight." His arrow was pointed directly at Anders' chest. "May you find peace in the Void, for that is where a maleficar such as you truly belongs."

"NO!"

The world seemed to slow. Fenris watched as Sebastian's fingers left the bowstring, the sudden release propelling the deadly missile forward. Ser Baxter's eyes took on a disturbing glow, synonymous with a primitive lust for blood. Aria threw herself forward, putting herself in the arrow's path.

He felt the scream welling in his throat, soundless but for the pounding of his heart, as the white-fletched arrow pierced her chest, just beneath her right breast. The crimson droplets of her blood seemed to hang suspended in the air, glistening with a macabre and beautiful gleam in the fading beams of moonlight.

Then she fell to the grass, and the time resumed its normal pace.

"Aria!" Anders' tortured scream broke the collective shock, and Fenris ran to kneel beside the apostates, taking in the scene with a detachment he reserved for the worst of moments. The arrow had struck her right lung, and it was deep enough that she was already choking on her blood. Her hands clawed at her stomach, gripping the distended flesh tightly. Anders crouched helplessly beside her, straining with the effort to summon magic that simply would not come. Fenris snapped his infutiated green eyes to the Knight-Commander, who stood beside the stupefied Prince with a smug smile playing about his lips.

"You drained them. Return their magic. Let him save her!" he snarled.

"Even if I could undo a smite, I would not," came the reply. "Better that she and her demon-child die than bring agony and misery to all of Thedas. Surely the heavens are rejoicing at this moment."

"Come on! Maker, please, don't do this! Don't take them from me; not like this!" Anders was sobbing the words, pressing his hands against the welling blood and the arrowshaft, helpless to undo the damage. Fenris had never, ever seen the other man cry, but he was now, in great heaving gulps of air. Tears spilled down his cheeks, soaking into Aria's stained robes. With a holy smite in place, Anders would need a lyrium potion to bring his magic back. There was no chance a magic-hating man such as the Knight Commander would allow any lyrium within ten miles of a mage.

The idea struck him so suddenly he almost staggered.

"Anders! Use the lyrium in me!" He dragged one fingertip down one of the lyrium trails embedded in his arm, the sharpened tip of his gauntlet piercing the silvery vein with ease. Blood spilled out in a slow wash, hastened by the pumping of his frantic heart. Mixed within the blood was the blue-tinged ice he had carried all these years, sparkling in the moon's sheen. The elf offered his arm to his least favorite companion, swallowing his dislike in the desperate wish to save Aria's life.

"No you don't!" One of the guards swung the flat of his blade at him, smacking Fenris into the grass. His vision spun as he tried to get his bearings, only to see Anders held at the point of Ser Baxter's sword. Sebastian was taking in the entire scene with shocked blue eyes, clutching his bow with white knuckles.

"You will die, mage, but not before you watch your mate bleed out," he hissed. "You will know the darkest despair before I send you to the Void."

"The babe shouldn't die like this!" Fenris slurred, trying to claw his way to Aria's side. Somehow, unbelievably, she was still clinging to life. "Don't condemn it for the crimes of its parents! It is an innocent life!"

"It is a demon!" the templar retorted. "How else could a Gray Warden beget a child? My sister's a Warden; she told me they are all sterile!"

"Fertility rite. The most powerful ritual known to the Rivaini seers." Anders' hoarse voice whistled through the air, dragging Sebastian and Fenris' attention to him. "She wanted my baby so badly, and I wanted to make her happy. We found a seer and performed the rite. The child carries a part of the taint, but it is fully human. It is a part of myself and Aria."

"As is any child borne of two people so deeply in love." Sebastian stepped forward, steady in spite of the whiteness of his cheeks. "Ser Baxter, on this we erred in judgement. The child should not die; it deserves a chance. Allow Anders to save Hawke's life, if only for the child's sake."

"Too late." Aria's weak contralto drifted to their ears, and Fenris snapped his swimming gaze back to his dearest friend. She had already lost so much blood. How was she still alive? Her robes were soaked in it. Anders shoved the Knight-Commander's blade away before the man could stop him, and knelt beside her hip, his back to Fenris.

"No. It can't be too late. Love, just hang on! Fenris! Give me your arm!" He reached for the elf, but the same guardsman who had knocked his world off-kilter planted a foot atop his chest, preventing the warrior from going to the other man's side.

"You will not use blood magic, maleficar!" Ser Baxter trumpeted. "You see, Your Highness? He is a blood mage!"

"Sebastian, please! I just need Fenris' lyrium, not his blood. Just a little lyrium, and I can save them!" Fenris was in no position to see Anders' face, but he was willing to bet it was the very portrait of desperation.

Sebastian wavered, but Aria reached up to tightly grip her love's arm.

"Anders... Listen to me." She choked, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. "Too late for me. Save the baby. Please." She rolled her head to regard Sebastian, who merely stared at her. "Give him...a knife. Get it out of me, before..."

All present stared at her, shocked to silence. What she was suggesting was something saved for the bleakest of situations, where all hope for a normal delivery was truly lost. The procedure was risky enough even with healing magic, but under these circumstance, it landed on a scale of odds that could only be labeled astronomical.

"Hawke, we can still save you. Nathan, let Fenris up," Sebastian commanded.

Aria shuddered, sending more precious crimson spilling across her saturated robes. "No. Take the baby. Already...in labor..." Her wide violet eyes locked onto her love's, compounding the death-grip she had on his arm. "Please, love. Save it. Please."

Anders shook, but he slowly nodded.

"Anders, you can't possibly - " Sebastian began to protest, but one red-stained hand silenced him.

"Give me a knife. I know you carry them." The amber-eyed mage's voice was thick with emotion, but steady. He was always prepared to do what must be done; in that aspect, this situation was no different than any other.

The prince inhaled, exhaled with great care. Then he reached for the knife strapped in his quiver.

"Your Highness!" Ser Baxter's protest was cut off by the wintery glance Sebastian sent his way. Quietly, he handed the blade to Anders.

Fenris twisted his head to look at Aria's face. She was rapidly losing blood, yet she remained conscious and aware. Her violet eyes met his, and she gave the faintest of smiles. The smile flinched when her lover sliced into her womb, but her gaze remained gentle in spite of the excruciating pain she must be experiencing.

She was ready to die.

Anders pulled back slightly, accompanied by a sharp, wet, sucking sound, and after a resounding smack! a baby's sharp wail pierced the night. The apostate kneed closer to his lover's head, cradling their child in his arms. He twisted a bit, allowing Fenris a glimpse. It was covered in blood and slick fluids, its flesh mottled into patches of red flush and alabaster white. Little fists and arms trembled in the moonlight, shaking with the force of its cries. The twisted blue cord trailed from its belly to vanish inside Aria, still binding mother to child. Anders' face held a mixture of adoration, grief, and joy as he bent to show his beloved their child.

"Do you see her, love? She's beautiful, just like you. Absolutely perfect." He picked up one of Aria's hands and brought it to one of their baby's fists, gently wrapping her long fingers about the tiny digits. "She's ours, love. Our baby, just like you wanted."

"Our baby... Sienna..." Aria gasped for air, and her hand convulsed about the baby's. "Love you both...so much..."

She coughed, and blood sprayed from her lips to fountain across her lover and newly-born child. Then she collapsed back against the grass, her head lolling to the side, her vivid eyes glazing as more precious blood spilled into the earth in a sluggish trickle.

Fenris could have sworn he felt the world take a breath as her hand fell limp to the ground.

But Anders merely clutched their daugher close, bowing his head so their foreheads met. Tears raced down his cheeks in tiny rivers. "I'm sorry, Sienna. I'm so sorry I couldn't save her. I'm sorry."

Sebastian's knees hit the ground with an echoing clank of his armor. He stared at Aria's empty shell, and finally bowed his head and raised his clasped hands to his lips. "Blessed Andraste, guide this young mother to the Maker's side. Bring her to the peace she sought, and let her know the comfort of the Maker's embrace. Holy Lady of Sorrows, know that this woman is worthy of your intercession..."

Fenris ignored the remainder of the prayer, shoving aside his own grief while he pushed the guard's foot off his chest and rolled to his knees. That done, he merely sat there, trying to process what had just happened. Aria Hawke, one of the most powerful mages in all of Thedas, dead by the Prince of Starkhaven's hand. Her legacy sliced from her belly by her request, and quieting in her lover's arms.

Her pale white body, trickling her lifeblood into the grass while her empty purple eyes stared at them all.

Save for Anders' apologies, the child's whimpers, and Sebastian's prayers, silence had fallen across them all. Even that zealot of a templar, Ser Baxter, seemed shocked by the scene before him. Fenris was grateful for the loss of the man's tongue; if he had said anything about Aria in that moment, he would have taken his heart and stuffed it down his throat.

His prayers concluded, Sebastian slowly reached for Sienna, his movements cautious. His bright blue eyes revealed how wary he was of the remaining apostate's mental state. Anders twisted his upper body to the side, taking his daughter as far from the offending prince as he could without leaving his love's side. "You'll not touch her," he murmured.

"Apostates cannot raise children, Anders. She needs to be placed in an orphanage, where proper care may be rendered."

"So you'll fill her head with all that anti-mage nonsense? Never tell her who her parents were? How much they loved her?" He gazed down at the tiny baby in his arms, gently stroking her cheek with a careful finger. "I saw what happens to mages who grow up in Chantry orphanages. There was one at the Ferelden Circle. She hated herself so much she drove herself mad, then stole a templar's sword to run herself through. All because she thought her very existence was an offense to the Maker." His amber eyes slowly rose to meet the brilliant azure of the prince's, filled with an anger decades old. "It was sickening, hearing her in the chapel every morning and evening. She begged the Maker to take away her magic, to cleanse her of the sins that had made him hate her. You could hear the hysteria, the self-loathing in every word she cried. She even took to flogging herself before the altar, until one of the sisters told her that her blood could stain it. That same sister told her it was pointless to pray, because she was damned anyway for being born with magic. The Maker would never have her."

Several of the guards began fidgeting as he spoke. One of the younger templars lowered his head and closed his eyes, attempting to master himself. There was a story there, Fenris was certain. Ser Baxter simply folded his arms and looked on coldly. Sebastian wilted in the face of Anders' disgust, the accusation that he would turn tiny, innocent Sienna into a woman such as the poor soul in his tale. For his part, Fenris understood. Aria had helped him realize that while the Circles offered protection and education, they were also fostered despair within the mages. The abuses of the templars, those given the power of life and death over the captives, were almost on par with the magisters. That epiphany had come during the flight from Kirkwall, when they had come across an escaped mage from the fallen Circle. The girl had been no more than fourteen, starving, and heavily pregnant. She had traveled with them for a time, until they had found an abandoned hermit's cottage and she decided to stay. She had found a friend in Merrill, and confided that her child had been conceived in violence, not love. The father had been one of the knight-lieutinants.

His gaze flicked to Anders, noting the tension in the other man. There was no way he would ever allow his daughter to be raised by her mother's slayer. But he was in no position to get away. What did he intend?

As if sensing that he was thinking about him, Anders glanced his way. "Fenris, Aria and I discussed making you our child's godfather. Will you accept?"

What prompted that question? Fenris was too surprised to truly analyze it for any hidden meanings. He could only say "I would be honored."

"Then would you like to hold her?" His voice was carefully neutral, but he turned enough to face the elven warrior fully.

Fenris looked to the baby, unconsciously gauging how difficult it would be to get to his sword while holding her if the guards tried something. He might be able to tie her to him if he needed to fight, but only if he could wrestle Sebastian's fluttering blue cape away from him. Getting near the Prince might be one of the most dangerous things he had done since this failed escape attempt commenced, but an energy pulse would be enough to stagger everyone in the vicinity long enough for him to snatch the cape and get away. Perhaps even wrap Sienna in the fabric and tie her in place.

He did want to hold her, he realized with some surprise. Aria was no more, and the newborn carried the last pieces of the woman he had secretly loved. In holding Sienna, he could be assured that the Hawke line remained strong and very much alive. It would not be much comfort for the grief he kept dammed by shock and disassociation, but it would help.

His arms came up, stretched in Anders' direction. The new father came closer, carefully placed his daughter within the warrior's arms. Fenris held her close, staring down into a tiny face with rounded, perfect features and eyes that had yet to open. Sienna snuggled against him sleepily; through his armor, he could sense the warmth in her little body and his heart melted. Aria's daughter would be kept safe, even if he had to work with Anders in order to keep her that way. Sebastian and his templar cronies would never touch this helpless child.

"She is beautiful," he whispered softly.

"Her mother is dead," came Anders' reply. "And you killed her, Choir Boy."

Fenris' head snapped up in time to watch Sebastian visibly flinch at the nickname. "I did not mean to - "

"But you did. You shot her with your damned bow, then stood there while your pet templar rejoiced in her murder! You claim to be a man of the Maker? You are nothing more than a bloody hypocrite!"

"I meant to take her into custody, so she could have the baby in peace and safety."

"Then come at her with the brand!" Anders' power was rising again; it licked along Fenris' skin like fiery tongues, making him grunt with the strength of it. Either he was drawing upon Justice's Fade connection to overcome the earlier smite, or his anger was stirring his magic. Either way, he was becoming dangerous again. "You wanted to leave our child an orphan, malleable to your spite and fear! You would turn her into another Keirnan, so convinced she was hated by the Maker that she took her own life in despair!

"I won't let that happen! You'll never touch my daughter! She will always be safe from you!"

He raised his hands, lightning crackling about his fingers. Ser Baxter was raising his sword...

Fenris saw a peaceful smile upon the apostate's lips as the blade swung for his neck.

Then Anders' head flew, and his body crumbled to the grass beside his love's. The Knight-Commander stood there, gazing down at them with a fanatical joy, his teeth so white between his lips.

"Oh Maker..." Sebastian could only stare, his lips moving in a silent prayer. His bow fell to the ground while his azure gaze remained locked upon the dead lovers, two people he had known so well a few years ago.

Fenris only held baby Sienna closer, considering ways to cut the cord still binding her to her mother.

At last he knelt beside her dead parents, looking at the shaken Prince. "Sebastian, I have need of your cloak."

"My cloak?" He tore his gaze away from the bodies, taking in the stony-faced elf and the naked, shivering babe he held to his chest, almost engulfed in his arms. Understanding dawned in those bright blue eyes. "Of course. My cloak." He jerked at the golden pin with sharp, hurried gestures and finally just tore it from the soft fabric, casting it aside. Catching the cloak as it slipped from his shoulders, he offered it to Fenris.

The elf took it silently, and somehow managed to wrap Sienna in the thick cloth without dropping her while leaving her cord exposed. That done, he looked again to his former friend. "Tear off a strip, and tie it around the cord about...here." He touched a section of the twisted blue flesh a few inches from Sienna's belly. Although he was no healer, he had attended some of the births when Danarius was briefly in the business of breeding slaves. Fenris had been ordered to help keep the women calm, and help the midwife if she needed something. He had watched the process enough times to know how it worked, and had a rough idea of how to cut a child's cord. Anders would know better, but the man was in no position to answer any questions now.

Sebastian tore a thin strip from the trailing edge of the cloak and carefully looped it around the section Fenris had indicated, then tied it tight. Once that was done, he slipped a knife out of his boot and offered it hilt-first to the elf. "She might not get infected if you use this one. It's clean."

Fenris took the knife with a short nod and settled into a cross-legged position, laying Sienna in the cradle of his thighs. Once he was certain that she was steady, he picked up the cord and laid the blade's edge against the slick flesh. The baby didn't even notice as the knife sliced through the final connection to her mother. Now she was her own separate person, as well as an orphan.

But not alone, Fenris acknowledged, laying the knife aside and wrapping her more securely in the cloak. He had failed Aria and let Anders die, but he would find atonement by saving their daughter. He rose to his feet, followed by Sebastian. The Prince reached again for the child, but Fenris stepped back, shaking his head.

"Their final wish was for their daughter to grow up safe and free. You will abide by that wish."

"You can't think to raise a baby all by yourself!" someone in the crowd jeered. "How're you going to feed her? Eh?"

"There are ways to feed a motherless baby," Fenris replied without looking to the source of the voice. "And I won't be raising her by myself. I have a friend who will be more than willing to take her in, unless she's changed over the past few years." Last he had heard, Aveline had a son of her own now. He could not recall the boy's name, but he knew it wasn't Wesley. That he remembered, because he had been so surprised to hear it was not the name she had chosen. The former guard-captain had been one of Aria's closest friends; she would more than likely take in the orphaned baby Hawke, especially once she heard how she lost her parents.

Fenris directed his gaze to the men in front of them, allowing some of the coldness of his anger to creep into his eyes. "Move," he ordered in a clear, even voice.

The guards traced their eyes over him, assessing the obvious strength in his long, wiry limbs and the gigantic blade across his back. He was carrying a newborn in his arms, but considering that he had torn through more than two dozen of their comrades last night, they were less than inclined to discount him as a threat.

"Fenris, please reconsider. You are a wandering warrior, a mercenary. That is no life for a child. I don't know who you have in mind, but this woman is surely far away and it will take time to reach her." Sebastian edged into his line of sight, keeping his hands well clear of any weapons. "I did not mean to orphan her in such a way as this."

"You were planning to execute her father and turn her mother into a souless shadow of herself. Don't you dare stand there and tell me you weren't planning to orphan her," Fenris snarled. In his arms, Sienna sniffled and shifted, scrunching her face in growing discomfort. The elf forced some of the tension to drain from his limbs and rocked her gently, murmuring comforting nonsense until she settled back down.

"Anders had to pay for his crimes," Sebastian intoned.

"But did Hawke? Or his daugther?"

Sebastian opened his mouth, but no words emerged. At last he sighed. "You are right. I was seeking targets for my vengeance, and that interfered in my judgement. It is too late for Hawke now, but please, allow me to make amends. I will raise her daughter as though she were my own. She will never want for anything in this world, I swear it."

"And how will you face her every day? How do you plan to explain what happened to her parents when she asks?" Fenris clutched her a little closer, pinning the prince with his gaze. "Once she discovers that you caused the death of her parents, she will hate you. That aside, how will you react if she has inherited their magic? Could you really allow her to be taken away and shut in the Circle, after raising her yourself?"

The prince had no answer. At last, he raised his hand. "Let him pass."

The guards murmured, but parted to the sides. Fenris walked between them, towards the lightening sky.

"You'll not unleash a demon upon this world, elf!"

His keen ears detected the sudden swish of violently-moving grass and clanking armor, the sharp hiss of a blade leaving its sheath. Fenris dove to the side, Sienna cradled tight to his chest, as a sword cleaved the ground where he had just been standing. He rolled and turned to face his attacker, unsurprised to see that it was Ser Baxter.

"She is not a demon, Knight-Commander! That's just a child, one who just lost her parents!" one of the lesser templars called.

The fanatic sneered, his handsome face twisting into a disturbing mockery of righteousness. "You have always been soft, Ser Canan. That thing is no child!" He brandished his sword and Fenris felt a chill traverse down his spine as he beheld the madness in his too-bright eyes. "None of you see it, but I do! It is a monster, and if I do not destroy it in the Maker's name, it will drown the world in fire! Its very existence spits upon the Maker's name!"

He turned his gaze skyward, holding his blade at the ready before him. "Blessed Andastre, hear me! In your name, I shall cleanse this world of magic's unholy taint! Thedas will know peace at last, and the Maker will return to rule us anew! The future begins here, with this chil-hurk!"

The blade hit the ground with a dull thud. Fenris watched the other man's face as his shocked eyes fell to the glowing arm buried in his chest, the incomprehension and dawning horror. He felt the Knight-Commander's heart drumming between his fingers, the slick weight repeatedly leaving and falling into his cupped palm. It was a sensation he knew very well, but rarely did he take pleasure in it.

This was only the second occasion when he felt the malicious satisfaction spread throughout his own chest.

"Fenris, don't!" Sebastian called.

"He will never stop hunting her, or any mage," he replied in a steady voice. "I saw his captives in the dungeon. This man knows no pity, not even for a helpless babe. Would you truly allow something like him to decide the fate of so many?"

"His fate is in the Maker's hands, not mine."

"No." Fenris flexed his fingers, staring straight into the fanatic's wide eyes. "The Maker has placed his life in my hand."

It was over in one squeeze. He withdrew his hand from Ser Baxter's chest as the body fell to its knees, crumpling to the side. He stood there with blood dripping from his hand, only one arm supporting the sleeping Sienna, just looking at the gathered men. Their fear radiated off them in a palpable wave, and Fenris felt the urge to speak his mind.

"How many more Ser Baxters are there? How many more would slay the innocent, just because they possess magic they never wanted? How many of those mages are condemned for a sin committed before their birth, because we claim they were born without innocence?" He glared at them all, then fixed his gaze upon his former friend. "Must we forever punish them for the sins of the Imperium? This is why the Maker continues to turn his gaze from us, not because of the magisters! Because we would kill even the helpless children in His name! We are not worth saving so long as we would perpetuate such atrocities behind the veil of righteousness!"

Sebastian was quiet, silently assessing the fuming warrior. Then he spoke. "You have changed. The Fenris I knew in Kirkwall would never have said such things."

"It's because of Hawke. She showed me the truth." The prince had to recall how much Fenris and Aria had butted heads in Kirkwall when it came to the topic of mages. She never fought with him, as Anders had, but instead asked why he thought certain things when they arose in the conversation. Then she would ask what had led him to those conclusions, and constantly wonder whether his hatred was for the person associated with the memory rather than the magic itself. The question that had finally opened his eyes had been "would Danarius have been any less a monster if he had not been born a mage?"

She had convinced him that not all mages were to be reviled, and now she had left her legacy in his hands. Perhaps, when Sienna was in Aveline's care, he could help others to reach the same conclusions he had drawn.

"You are as honest as always, Fenris, yet you remain an enigma." Sebastian shook his head slowly, a faint smile curling his lips. "Very well. I shall let you go, so long as you promise a peaceful future for that child. It will be your penance for killing so many of my men."

Fenris merely nodded and turned away. He had no intention of abandoning Sienna. He owed it to Aria to protect her daughter.

The sun was finally cresting the horizon, bathing the tragic scene in soft golden light. Fenris thought of the bodies on the ground, how Anders' corpse had fallen atop Aria's in such a manner that he all but covered her. It was almost as though the mage was trying, even in death, to shield his beloved from further harm. He remembered Aria's peaceful smile, slowly relaxing from her face as she lay upon the grass. Anders had worn such a smile, in spite of the sword rushing for his neck.

They had never wanted anything more than to be together, even if it was beyond death. Their smiles had been for each other, and for him; they had known Fenris could be trusted to protect their daughter.

The warrior took a deep breath and let it out slow, swearing to fulfill their trust within his heart. Without further word to Sebastian and his silent men, he adjusted Sienna to his other arm and started off, leaving the bodies of the Champion and her beloved renegade to cool in the rising sun.