~o~

Couldn't save you from the start
Loved you so it hurts my soul
Can you forgive me for trying again?
Your silence makes me hold my breath
Time has passed you by

For so long I've tried to shield you from the world
You couldn't face the freedom on your own
Here I am left in silence

You gave up the fight
You left me behind
All that's done is forgiven
You'll always be mine
I know deep inside
All that's done is forgiven

I watched the clouds drifting away
Still the sun can't warm my face
I know it was destined to go wrong
You were looking for the great escape
To chase your demons away

I've been so lost since you've gone
Why not me before you?
Why has fate deceived me?
Everything turned out so wrong
Why do you leave me in silence?

~Forgiven by Within Temptation~

Prologue

It began as a small seed.

Who can say exactly how many pangs of regret or impotent feelings of frustration led to it? What precise map of events brought the first solid form of thought. The first time she wished she could change the past.

It wasn't the years of running, that was how she had grown up. An ever present shadow over their family from before the time she was born. Being an apostate wasn't something Marian chose to be- she simply was. Like having blue eyes or dark hair. There were things you chose in life, and others things in which you had no say.

The death of her father might have marked the beginning of true disaster for the family. He was the rock, the anchor that tethered them all together. Without his steadying influence they were just pieces of drifting wood trying to keep afloat. Then the darkspawn came and tried to drown them.

Bethany's loss was the first soul-numbing tragedy that she felt personally responsible for. That must have been it. The first time she really thought to herself: If only I…

Pathetic words. Weak words. Words that cut into your soul like jagged glass, and left you choking on the rancid taste of your own inadequacies.

Yet Hawke still had a well of pragmatism to draw from back then. She had a mother and brother in her care. She would do better. Take precautions. It would never happen again. They made it to Kirkwall against the odds. She thought that somehow they would survive- as long as they had each other.

Carver's death was even more difficult. Though she and her brother had never shown their love openly, it had always been there. Merely hidden under sarcasm and competition. In his final moments, deep in the bowels of the earth, she had seen it in his eyes. Marian would have preferred if he hated her, as she deserved.

It was her fault. Entirely her fault, and nowhere to place the blame but on her already scarred and bleeding shoulders. Yet she had to go on. Her mother needed her to stay strong. The trip that had caused her brother's death had also brought prosperity and security. They had a home again. She had gained friends and influence, and also found a purpose.

Marian fell in love. After all the pain, loss and failure, she tasted joy at last. It was a heady brew, intoxicating beyond anything she had ever known- loving a man and all he stood for. Someone just like her who wasn't content to submit to oppression just because it was the status quo. Anders healed her heart and made her complete and whole again. Maybe even for the first time. Even the disapproving and interfering spirit that inhabited Anders could not spoil their love for each other.

Finally, when she thought it was safe to breathe…her mother was taken. The last piece of the familial chain snapped. It seemed a senseless death. A madman so obsessed with his dead sweetheart that he would do the most sick and twisted things to have her back. Break any law and commit atrocities for a second chance.

How utterly ironic that she could finally understand. Sitting on the cold ground, awash in the blood of her dead lover, it all became crystal clear. This was the only thing she could not bear. Perhaps she was mad too, but it made perfect sense. She looked at his blood on her fingers, and raised a trembling hand to smear it across her face, marking herself with all that was left of him in macabre tribute.

Mages could do so much more than many of them ever realized. Magic was an ocean of possibilities that most only ever dipped their toes in. Amazing things could be wrought, if you only had a learned teacher to instruct you…or a powerful tome of ancient secrets, long buried. The discoveries of others who were brave enough or foolish enough to do anything in pursuit of greater knowledge.

It might have been some sixth sense that had made her hide that last fell book of magic in that evil cave, long ago. A latent prescience perhaps, whispered in her subconscious. She stuffed it into her pack before any of her companions had taken note. Secretly, she had studied it. Not even Anders knew. At first, it was only morbid curiosity, but as she had progressed, one spell in particular had caught her attention.

It seemed ridiculous. Impossible to return to one's past, surely, but intriguing nonetheless. It required human sacrifices to begin with, which would have automatically made her turn away from it- but that was before she had come to this night. Her final and ultimate failure- his death. Unacceptable as long as she drew breath.

She had not saved him at all that day at the Gallows, it seemed, not really. All she did was postpone the inevitable. Trying to cling just a little longer to the sinking ship, when what she needed to do was never board that doomed vessel.

The answer is simple, something whispered in her mind. Prevent the catalyst, prevent the change. She would find a way to save him from the mistakes that had led them here. It would not be an easy thing to accomplish, but there had to be a better path, and she would find it, somehow. They could be together again, and maybe even live in some semblance of peace. That thought was all she had left to cling to.

Marian slit the throat of the final, unconscious templar she was using to power her spell, the hot, life-sustaining fluid bursting forth in an eager gush. Just one more of the seemingly endless stream of hunters sent to kill them. They had made a grave mistake killing him first. The hunters had became the hunted, and their blood served her purpose.

The disbelief and horror a small part of her still felt at her actions was ruthlessly crushed. There was no place for a kindness that made her weak. Only the goal was important. Sad irony twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile as the thought skittered across her mind that the spirit would have approved of her single-mindedness...and her vengeance.

Templar blood ran in a red river across the makeshift alter she had arranged. She added her own blood, then some of Anders, before sketching patterns in the air with the enchanted rune, whispering the spell in a brittle voice.

A red so deep it was nearly black surrounded her in a heavy cloud. She chanted for what felt like hours, but might have even been days, the spell more complex than anything she had ever attempted. The power grew into undulating waves, while an invisible pressure tried to push her into the ground and grind her to dust. Marian grit her teeth and forced more strength into her voice. She would not fail!

"We accept your offering," purred the most sinister voice she had ever heard. Cold fear gripped her as she beheld a score of shadowy outlines that teased the edges of her vision, but it was too late to turn back.

The dark cloud wavered and coalesced before her, opening and forming a dim passage. She stepped across the small mountain of bodies and walked into it. Behind her lay blood, slaughter and failures uncounted. She had already kissed his cold lips a final time. The only path lay before her. Marian did not look back.

Chapter One

"Here are the last of the sleeping potions, as well as a few healing potions," Hawke said, hefting the full basket of glass bottles onto the table.

"Oh! Great, Hawke. That means we'll be able to buy food tonight, which I'm sure our stomachs will appreciate." Ella smirked and grabbed the basket, aiming to take them straight to the dwarf that sold them on their behalf.

Hawke crossed her arms, leaning against the table in their dingy little shack.

"Do you mean to say you don't like the wild mushroom and herb soup I make?"

Ella rolled her eyes. "Well, I appreciate something to fill the hungry ache inside me, but your soup really doesn't do a whole lot for that. Sorry Hawke." She shifted the basket to her other hand. "Before I forget, I got a note earlier. There will likely be another runner here tonight."

Hawke sobered instantly. "Do we know where this one is from?" She tried to keep her tone casual, but Ella's eyes narrowed. Her friend was far too perceptive, after living as housemates for nearly a year.

"She's from the Kirkwall Circle," she said quietly.

"Do you know her?" Hawke relaxed infinitesimally at hearing it was another woman.

"I don't think so, but I won't know for sure until I see her." She shrugged and turned for the door. "I'm going to run these over to Jarris while the day is still young. See you later!"

Hawke sat heavily in a chair, rubbing her brows tiredly. She had no idea her spell would take her so far back in time, before Anders even arrived in Amaranthine. It sometimes seemed that her former life had been no more than an elaborate dream, and this time and place, the true reality.

It had been fortunate finding Ella, when she had awoken outside the city, disoriented, grieving and still covered in blood. Or, it would be more accurate to say Ella found her. The older woman had taken Hawke in hand, kindly and firmly. She had cleaned her up and brought her home with her, all while asking few questions and respecting her need for space.

Ella was an apostate and had been living free for the past eight years, three of which had been spent in Amaranthine. She was also part of an underground network helping others like herself, and they had become good friends over the months.

Hawke did all she could to assist her fellow mages, and also out of appreciation for Ella having offered her a place to stay. It gave her something to focus on besides her extended wait for Anders, which Ella was entirely unaware of. If she noticed how Hawke tensed every time they received word of a runaway mage headed their way, she never commented on it, for which Hawke was grateful.

There were occasions when Hawke suffered from worry, wondering if she had altered things by coming back to this time. What if it made some infinitesimal change, and Anders never arrived? It wasn't as if she could just show up at the Ferelden Circle, bang on the door, and inquire whether Anders was still captive within.

She snorted at the thought, rubbing the pendant she wore around her neck that contained his blood. Her very own version of a phylactery, and it was the warmth it continued to emit which assured her he was still living and breathing…somewhere.

Laying her head on the gnarled tabletop, she closed her eyes, letting her mind drift. She didn't realize she had dozed off until the sound of the door woke her. She sat up quickly to see Ella coming through the door, her arms laden with the efforts of her food shopping.

Hawke walked across and took some of the packages from her arms before she dropped them, raising a brow when she saw Ella also carried two bottles of wine. Ella shrugged and smiled.

"Your potions sell well, Hawke."

"Do we really need two bottles of wine though, Ella? I still have that whisky stash if you're interested in drink."

"Yes, well, you know I prefer wine, plus, it looks like we're going to have a full house soon."

Hawke walked to the small table and begin rummaging through the edibles her friend had purchased.

"A full house?" she questioned absently, happy to see Ella had bought her favorite crusty bread. She ripped the end off the still warm loaf and closed her eyes in pleasure as she chewed.

"Another note in the box. I just got word of my old friend Anders, and it seems he's escaped again. Maker only knows how he has managed it so many times."

Hawke coughed and choked, the bread turning into sawdust in her mouth. Ella pounded on her back helpfully, and she held up a hand as she managed to swallow and finally recover her breath.

"I think he's made half a dozen attempts, but they always drag him back. Damn phylacteries and damn the templars," she said angrily.

"You've helped this mage before then?" Hawke hoped her tone was as casually interested as she intended it to be.

"Mhhh, but that was before I came here," she rolled her eyes and smiled. "He's the most outrageous flirt I've ever met. Wait until you meet him. He usually only elicits two reactions- you either want to hit him or bed him."

Hawke tried to stifle the emotional roiling in her gut, and her cheeks reddened with the effort.

"Which did you want to do?" She busied her hands again, unwrapping the food and grabbing a paring knife to start slicing the carrots. Ella grabbed a few slices and crunched them loudly.

"I never bedded him, if that's what you're asking! Maker's bitch, I'm not as young as I used to be, and I don't think he was ever that desperate." She smiled mischievously and leaned closer to Hawke. "You might like him though. You're young and pretty and he's handsome. There's nothing wrong with having a bit of fun."

Ella ran her fingers through Hawke's shoulder length hair fondly. "I know you've suffered greatly in the past, even if you try to keep it bottled up inside."

Hawke tried to protest, but Ella put a finger over her mouth and smiled knowingly. "All I'm saying is to be open to life's little pleasures." She smiled sadly, "they can be fleeting."

Hawke nodded, only too aware of the fact, and continued cutting up vegetables. "I'll remember that," she said quietly.

Ella smiled. "Good, because we have to split up tonight. I'll go meet the girl from Kirkwall and you can meet Anders. Wait around the tavern as usual, and he'll eventually show, provided he wasn't held up." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Or recaptured."

She went on to describe him so Hawke would know him when she saw him, mentioning he would undoubtedly be in robes as that was all she had ever seen him wear. Hawke stared at her in shock and dropped the knife.

"Do you mean to say that this Anders doesn't have enough sense to disguise that he's a mage? He doesn't even change his clothes?" Hawke had never stopped to think that Anders might have been recaptured all those times through his own foolishness.

Ella sat on a chair and drummed her fingers on the table and nodded. "That about sums it up. Maybe you could give him some pointers. I've never seen another apostate blend in as effortlessly as you do."

"I've had my whole life to perfect the technique," she muttered, her mind already on buying him a change of clothes before the market closed.

"Necessity is often the best teacher." Ella stood and took the knife and began chopping the rest of the vegetables, while Hawke went to her room to retrieve her meager coin purse.

"I'm going to buy a change of clothes for this ignorant man before the stalls close."

Ella waved the knife in acknowledgement, and Hawke slipped out the door. The sun was sinking fast, but there was still time to get what she would need. She headed out of the slums where they lived and down the main thoroughfare of the city, dodging a cart of grain pulled by a team of oxen, and smiling at the crowd of laughing children playing with the neighborhood mutt.

Hawke considered Amaranthine the perfect size- small enough to get around in, but large enough for her not to be noticed. She found the stall of men's clothing easily, and began examining piles of tunics and trousers, looking for something to fit Anders. The back of her neck prickled with awareness, and she looked to the side casually, catching a flash of silver armor and red from the corner of her eye. The templar was scanning the area, but didn't seem to be watching her particularly.

She focused on finishing her task and paid the merchant, even while maintaining her covert observation. Two more templars joined the first as she turned to head back toward home, but she changed her mind at the last second and headed toward the chantry. Better to be on the safe side and take the long way back. She kept her stride purposeful but unhurried, not breathing easily until she was well away.

Hawke ducked behind a building, peeking out to watch as the templar trio headed back toward the city gates. She gnawed her lip worriedly, suddenly anxious for nightfall.

Where are you, Anders?

~o~