A/N: This story is definitely getting super plotty. Hope ya'll stick around to see it to it's end. Big plans are in store.

Awareness came back to Hawke in slow stages. At first all he saw was darkness and for a moment he felt a wave of panic. Did he not make it after all? Had he been consumed by the monster?

But then he was aware that it was dark because his eyes were closed. He could hear his own breathing, quickened inhales and exhales that were beginning to slow now that he realized he was no longer dreaming. A heavy coverlet was pulled up to his chest. The pillow beneath his head was soft, and the texture of the cloth was gratifying to feel. Everything smelled familiar.

Dim voices muffled by a closed door spoke to one another. It was too low to make out the individual words, but Hawke knew that he was safe.

He laid still for some blissful moments until the heat began to grow oppressive. With clumsy movements, he kicked at the sheets and pushed it away from his bare chest. He knuckled at his gummy eyes and peeled them open. He was in his room. Hawke let his eyes wander to every corner, and even moved to peer under the bed. No shadow monster to be seen.

There was a movement outside, and Hawke felt himself tense, a spell ready on his lips. The door swung open, and Hawke barely stopped himself from letting loose the curse at the sight of Fenris. He knew logically that it was unlikely the shadow monster could cross over from the Fade, but the sight of Fenris brought back the whole unpleasant memory of the monster, including its failed impersonation.

Hawke's reaction did not go amiss, and Fenris shot him a concerned look from the doorway. He moved aside to let his mother rush to the bedside. He stood awkwardly at the doorway.

"Oh my baby, you're awake!" Leandra said, throwing herself at Hawke.

Hawke reeled a little from the force of her embrace, and then hugged her back. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder for a moment before moving back so that she could look at him in the eye, holding his face between her soft palms.

"Fenris, could you be a dear and fetch Anders?" Leandra said, not withdrawing her gaze from her son's face. "Anders put you under a healing sleep. He said that you would not be awake for at least another day."

"Did he," Hawke said, and thought about the force field around his dream threads. Leandra put her hand on his forehead and touched his cheeks. "Mother, I'm alright."

Hawke shifted his eyes so that it met Fenris' and tried to convey a pleading look. "Really, I'm fine," he smiled, though judging from the alacrity in which his lover took leave and the worried look from his mother, it probably turned out more as a grimace. How reassuring.

Leandra's eyes watered. "Mother, please don't cry," Hawke pleaded. "If Carver were here, he'd beat me for making you cry."

"I have half the mind to beat you myself," she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "You've been more withdrawn lately and when I speak with you it's as if your not really there. At first I thought it was just something on your mind and that you needed time alone to sort through it, but then you disappear for an entire day and night without a word and...and...the way you were found..." her voice was too full of emotion to properly speak.

Hawke knew it was best to stay quiet for now.

Leandra swallowed her tears and gave a heavy sigh. "Tell me what's wrong my boy. What is it that's happening to you?" She said, placing her hand atop of his.

Hawke held her hands firmly and said, "I don't know. But I think I know what to do."

"You're not even making sense," Leandra said. "What is it that you need to do?"

"I'm trying to figure that out myself," Hawke said. Then he tried to change the subject. "So what's been happening since I've been brought here? Actually, who was it that found me anyway?"

"Aveline's husband did. Donnic, a good man," she said. "When you didn't come home yesterday night before I went to bed, I thought that you were just having another late night. It wasn't until Fenris stopped by to ask where you were the next day that we knew something was wrong. Everyone put themselves into search parties."

"You've been gone for two days," Carver said, walking over to stand beside the bed in full silver and blue templar regalia, a gleaming sword strapped to his back. "Couldn't get yourself out of trouble this time, could you?"

Hawke gave their mother an exasperated look. "You needn't have involved Carver."

"What, I'm not important enough to be informed?" Carver said, bristling at the comment.

Hawke refused to hang his head in his hands like he dearly wanted to. "It's not that," he said in an gentle tone, "I know how important templar training is to you, and this is not something that you should break your routine over."

"Don't be so blithe about all of this," Carver spat. "You weren't there when mother begged ser knight Cullen to see me. I owe a lot of people favors in getting out of the Gallows as quickly as I did to help search for you, so don't pass it off as if it was nothing."

"Why must you and your brother always fight," Leandra said sadly, looking at both her sons. "He was worried about you."

"Yes, I know," Hawke said. "I'm sorry brother, and I thank you for looking out for me."

"I didn't do it for you," Carver said. "While you've been asleep, mother has been telling things."

Hawke looked at their mother. She avoided his gaze. "What things?" Hawke asked, already not liking where this is going.

"The shattering vases and broken table-"

"Okay, the vase was an accident," Hawke interceded. "You've knocked over more than your fair share-"

"Carver has not broken glass from merely looking at it," Leandra said. "Nor the dining table." The pieces had ended up being used for the fireplace.

"Mother also told me that sometimes she hears strange whispers and echoes from rooms that you've been in," Carver continued.

"What?"

"And Orlanna, that elf servant of yours-what is it with you and elves-pulled me aside not too long ago and said that there was something strange about your shadow. She said that she's noticed that when she does not look at it directly, that it doesn't always match your movements."

Hawke felt the bile rise to the back of his throat, and he put his face in his hands. "A shadow. Oh, maker, this can't be happening," he moaned.

"Enough games, brother," Carver said, towering over him. "By your words it seems that you haven't been completely honest to everyone. Tell us what's really going on. Are you a...?"

"A what Carver?" Hawke said, tiredly. "An abomination you mean?"

"Yes," his brother said. His hand had strayed to touch the hilt of his broadsword.

"Carver! What are you doing?" Their mother said, putting herself between the two.

"Stay out of this mother. This could be templar business." His face was resolute and eyes hard.

"He's your brother!" Leandra screeched, throwing herself at her youngest. Carver stumbled back a little and tried to push her gently to the side, but she would not have it and grappled with him.

"Yes, but if he has become possessed by a demon, I will not shirk my responsibility. An apostate brother I can tolerate, but abomination I will not. Do not protect him, mother." Leandra hung onto his armor tightly and would not be pried.

"If I was really a mouthpiece for a demon, do you really think that demon would tell you?" Hawke said angrily. "Surely you know better than that."

Carver's sword sang as he drew it. Leandra gasped and reached for it.

"Mother, stop," Hawke said and flung back the sheets so that he could stand, albeit with shaky legs. "Carver, put that away before you hurt someone, namely yourself. Besides, it won't do you any good."

"Is that a threat?"

"A fair warning," Hawke said firmly. His eyes flashed a bright icy blue and Carver's sword flung itself out of his hand, spun around, and buried itself into the hard stone ceiling with a reverberating clang.

"Now that that's no longer an issue..."

Carver backed away and reached for his dagger.

"Look what I did to your templar issued sword. Do you really think a tiny dagger is going to do you any better?" Hawke said with great exasperation. "I'm not an abomination. Now sit down and let me speak."

Leandra looked at Hawke, her eyes wide and fearful. Carver no longer attempted to reach for his dagger, but Hawke saw him eye the wide open door as if he was planning to dash through it. For reinforcements, perhaps.

The door closed with a soft snick.

"I really don't know what's been going on with me. Lately I've been having more difficulty in controlling my magic, and sometimes it comes out in bursts without intention."

"What do you mean more difficulty?" Leandra asked, looking at him and at the magically closed door.

"Ever since we've come to Kirkwall, its been...unbalanced. There's something strange about this city, and it's been affecting me for a while now."

"And you've only thought to mention this now?" Carver said. "All this time..."

"It wasn't a problem until recently. And just recently I've been having these pains. That's why I collapsed in that alley."

"Have you been having strange dreams too?" Leandra whispered, as if afraid of her utterance.

Hawke shot her a perplexed look. "How did you know?"

Leandra stayed silent for a moment and then walked to the window, crossing her arms. She gazed outside at the inhabitants of Hightown, at their leisurely wanderings in beautiful garbs, and pondered for a moment before turning around to look at her children.

"Both of you already know that there has always been magic in the Amell line. Long ago, mages in our family were celebrated and revered, but several hundred years ago that changed. Suddenly magic was abhorred and your ancestors sought to breed it out of the family, yet always it remained." Leandra said. "When I married your father, I brought more magic into the line.

The day before I eloped, your grandmother took me aside and told me a legend of an ancient curse. Long ago, one of your ancestors, a greedy man by the name of Fiero, attempted to steal an artifact from a witch that was said to imbue its owner with great power. Fiero, arrogant in his abilities, thought that he could best the witch. He was no match. As punishment, she laid a blood curse on our line, that every mage-born within our family shall die by their own power."

"And have they?" Hawke said.

"According to the stories, eventually," Leandra said. "How quickly the mage succumbs to the curse depends on how powerful he or she is, according to the tale."

"Why did you marry father then if you knew this could happen?" Hawke said, not angry, but curious. "Why weren't Bethany and I ever told of us this before. Did father know?"

"I didn't think too much about it at the time, and didn't tell your father until you began to show your powers," she said. "Manifestations of magic has not shown itself in our family for over a hundred years, and I thought that the story of Fiero was just another tale to indict magic. Your father hoped the same."

"I've overhead some templars saying that the veil is thin here in Kirkwall because of the Imperium's atrocities. Do you think that has something to do with this as well?" Carver said to no one in general.

"Perhaps," Leandra said. "If only your father were still here. He'd have a better insight on all this."

"But he isn't," Carver said. "And there is still the question of what to do with brother."

"You make it sound as if you're contemplating on gutting me and throwing my corpse into the harbor," Hawke said.

Carver flushed. "I wouldn't," he said angrily. "What do you take me for?"

Hawke pointedly looked up at the sword still embedded in the ceiling. "My mistake."

"That's enough boys! Both of you are absolutely incorrigible. You give Carver's sword back," she commanded to Hawke who flinched at her tone, "and as for you-" she rounded onto Carver, who took a step back with his hands in front of him, "Do not forget who is your family! You are no longer a child, and I should not even have to remind you of this!"

The sword tore itself loose from stone with a scraping sound and fell into Hawke's outstretched palm. He gathered power at the tip of his fingers and ran it down the edges of the blade, smoothing and sharpening it back to perfection.

When he handed it back to Carver, Carver inspected it critically and found no obvious flaws. In fact, it looked better than it had before.

All heads turned towards the door. Footsteps were heading their way.

"Keep all these speculations to yourselves," Hawke said, and looked at Carver. "Please. We don't know what's really going on yet, and there's no need to concern the others prematurely."

Carver opened his mouth to protest, but the look their mother shot him silenced him. He paused, and then nodded his assent, albeit with great reluctance. He slung the broadsword across his back. "Fine, I will keep it a secret. For now."

Carver opened the door and allowed Anders and Fenris to come into the room. "I'll be heading back to the Gallows now. Keep me posted."

As Leandra went to see Carver out, Anders dutifully checked Hawke over with his healing arts. He asked Hawke some general questions, if he was feeling queasy, was he in any pain, and asked nothing else outside of that context. For that, Hawke was thankful.

Gentle waves of golden light swept over his body, and he relaxed as Anders did his work with Fenris hovering protectively over. He knew that Fenris was waiting for an opportunity for them to be alone; his lover was always uncomfortable with public displays of affection, especially in front of their usual company.

It had been half a year since their first night together, and even though it was already well-known to their friends of their relationship, Fenris still shied away from even so much as a kiss if done in front of company. Hawke did some silent experiments, and found that Fenris seemed to take joy and comfort if he stayed by Fenris' side on their frequent journeys throughout the city and walked by no one else's.

Fenris also permitted casual touches and hugs at most; Hawke knew most of his erogenous zones by now, enough to take advantage of the knowledge by teasing him in public with gentle brushes around the neck and ears, racketing up the tension until Fenris was visibly vibrating with desire, enough that if Hawke did not part from company soon, Fenris would head off and take his pleasure without him. Those times were always full of fun and good cheer, when they had all the time in the world.

But that time seemed to be ending.

The agreement he made with Flemeth still stood. He would have to prepare the journey to Sundermount soon, and her offer of aid only brought up more questions. If there was any truth in the Amell curse, then it would explain the wracking pains in his body. As his power grew with Kirkwall's influence, then so would the curse continue onto its path.

But why did the curse begin now, and not years ago? It seemed suspicious that the day it began, Flemeth also conveniently appeared with some sort of magical cloth to ease it, as if it was foreordained.

And speaking of that blanket...

Hawke glanced around his bed and then bent over to look underneath.

"Stop squirming," Anders said, pushing him back down into the pillows. "I'm not done yet."

"Oomph! So rough," Hawke muttered. "Just curious, when I was brought back here, was there something else on me?"

"What is it that you're looking for?" Fenris said.

"It was a grey piece of cloth, as large as a blanket. It should've been around me."

"No," Fenris said, face in consternation at the strange request. "When we found you there was no such item. But it was Donnic who got to you first, so perhaps he would know. Was there something special about this piece of cloth?"

"It was a...no, it's nothing. Forget I asked," Hawke said. It would be probably be too much to hope for that it was still in that alleyway. No doubt some poor resident, or perhaps a child, would've picked up such an item. He hoped Flemeth wasn't expecting it back.

"Anders, do you really need to be touching Hawke so much?" Fenris growled, looking directly at the hand that was still on Hawke's bare chest. Anders hand lingered for a few more seconds before pulling reluctantly away. "Finish your work and be gone."

"Just because your sleeping with him doesn't mean you get to call the shots," Anders said resentfully.

"Careful mage, your feelings are showing," Fenris said. "Hide it more carefully lest I rip it out of you."

"Thank you, Anders. I am feeling fine now, and I appreciate all that you've done. Orlanna will see you out," Hawke said, before it all got out of hand.

"Ugh," Anders threw his hands into the air, "I don't know how you deal with him. He's like a rabid dog."

Fenris' eyes flashed a dangerous green and his lyrium markings began to flash. Anders grabbed his staff, on the defensive. Tension quickly filled the room, almost thick enough to see.

"That's enough, both of you. If I need anymore healing, I'll see you at the clinic," Hawke said. "All of this isn't making me feel any better."

"Your right. You have my apologies," Anders said stiffly, eyes still on Fenris. "Let me know if you need anything. I'm always happy to assist."

As Anders took his leave, Fenris visibly calmed down. He turned to leave too, but Hawke caught his arm. "Don't leave," Hawke said. "Stay with me. I'd like the pleasure of your company."

"Even after all this?" Fenris said tiredly. He let himself be led onto the bed, his fingers intertwining with Hawke's.

"You shouldn't have baited him, but he shouldn't have called you names either," Hawke said in between kisses along his lover's neck. Fenris and tilted his head back, a hand burying itself into Hawke's hair, encouraging. "I have to say though that your jealousy was a bit of a turn on."

"I'm not jealous," Fenris growled, tightening his fingers in Hawke's hair. Hawke nipped at the skin, and felt Fenris gasp. "Why didn't you tear his hand away?"

"I didn't even know it was still on me," Hawke said, licking at his skin. "Honest. And besides, my heart already belongs to someone else."

"You say that," Fenris groaned as dexterous fingers slipped beneath the edges of his flexible armor, "you oft tell me that, but it's difficult to believe that it is meant for me of all people."

"And why not? Do you truly not know your own worth?" Hawke said, unlatching the armor so that he could have more access to skin. He gave Fenris a hard kiss. "If words won't convince you, then perhaps I can show you. Will you believe then?"

Fenris was now on his back, his face turned to the side and half buried in the pillow as Hawke continued to kiss at every piece of newly exposed skin as he was stripped. Fenris' legs fell open automatically to accommodate Hawke's hips.

"S-stop ah-" Fenris moaned as Hawke ground hard against him, "-your mother is still downstairs, what if she-"

A loud click was heard and then the sound of bolts being drawn.

"Mother won't disturb us," Hawke said, sharing a deep kiss.

"You should, mmm-you should be resting," Fenris weakly protested, his bare hands pushing Hawke's drawstring pants down his hips eagerly.

"I've rested long enough. And I've missed you."

"We were together only a few days ago."

"It seems like so much longer. Indulge me."

Hawke nibbled the tip of those long pointed ears, and felt the body beneath him arch. Hands roamed all across his back before grasping his hips, encouraging him to rock forward. Together they built a rhythm of slick skin sliding against one another, mouths meeting hard for biting kisses and hands wound tightly together, larger squared fingers against smaller tapered ones.

Somewhere during round two, Hawke distantly heard knocking, but the sounds of their panting drowned it out. They both ignored it and eventually the knocking went away and did not return.

By the time they had spent themselves, both were exhausted. Fenris drifted off to sleep, but Hawke did not. He was tired out himself and felt his heavy lids, but was afraid to sleep lest the shadow creature awaited him in the land of dreams.

Fenris would demand to know what happened to him as soon as he woke up, Hawke knew. At least now he had time to prepare some answers. Fenris deserved no less than the truth, and he would tell him everything except for the meeting with Flemeth, as per their agreement.

He would not appreciate being left behind, and Hawke did not relish the idea of leaving what they had for who knows how long. Would it even be right for him to ask Fenris to wait for him, like some dutiful wife always waiting for her spouse to come back home?

Fenris had his own agendas that he was determined to see to the end. He did not want to leave Fenris to battle his demons alone, but he could not back out of his agreement with Flemeth. Not now.

Hawke rested his head on the pillow and pressed his lips against the back of his lover's neck. His eyes wandered, and saw that there was still a mark on the ceiling left by Carver's blade.

With a flash of magic, the rocks around the hole began to glow a fiery red-orange, the pieces melting against each other to fill in the gap. Once that patch was repaired, the rock began to slowly cool down.

Fenris gave a deep sigh in his sleep, his hand tightening the arm Hawke slung across his midsection. There was much to prepare before he left for an unknown fate, and Hawke determined that it would start with this.