It was silent at the Hawke estate, and while Bodahn preferred peace and quiet, he would have given anything to have had the household as loud and vibrant as it had always been.

Serrah Hawke was in mourning for her mother, and while Bodahn had done everything he could to ease her grieving, he knew that he could only do so much. It was that reason, and that reason alone, that allowed him to let the Darktown Healer walk upstairs to her room unescorted, friend or no.

He tended the fire in the main room, pondering over recent events.

The Qunari were getting increasingly more restless, and due to her constant interactions with them, his Lady Hawke was feeling stress over that. Kirkwall was straining, torn between keeping the peace like the Viscount wanted and all out assault on the foreign men that had been stranded in their city for years. Blood magic seemed to be seeping out of the very walls of the city, and due to her own magical status, his Lady was feeling pressure from the Knight Commander.

All of this, before his Lady's mother, the Mistress of the Household, had been kidnapped and brutally murdered. He remembered when they had discovered the Mistress missing; his Lady had frantically called her uncle and several friends together, and had immediately set out for answers. Hours later, she had returned to the house, supported on both sides by the healer and the tattooed elf, for once working together without bickering. Aveline had brought him up to date on the situation while his Lady was put to bed.

"Murdered," she had said, so softly and clearly. "By a mad mage, who…Bodahn, I can't even fathom what I saw with my own eyes…"

The two gentlemen had come back downstairs, and it was with surprise that he listened to them actually speaking to each other, instead of snarling like they usually did.

"I suppose you should be happy," Anders sighed. "What Hawke just saw proves your claim about all mages being rabid."

"I would not wish that lesson on her if this is what she gets in return," Fenris replied wearily. "And, as I have stated before, not all mages are the same. I cannot see Hawke diving into that sort of…madness."

"But any other?" Anders asked.

"Mages," Fenris said carefully. "Of unknown mettle, should be treated like any other dangerous person or a dangerous predator; with due caution. Can we not at least agree on that, for now?"

"She has tempered you, I see."

"You as well, mage."

The healer, normally so loud and fierce when debating about mages, sagged a little at that comment and smiled sadly. "For now, let's just agree on that small bit then. We have other, more important things to worry about."

And that was that. Over the next few days, Bodahn only saw his Lady when she emerged from her chambers to see off her mother's cremated remains. After the service, she went right back into her room, and refused to let him, or Sandal, in. Only Orana, the new elf maid, had been inside, and when questioned, she admitted that she was only able to get inside because she picked the lock out of desperation.

"Mistress threw me out," she said sadly. "I broke the lock again when Messere Fenris came, but…"

Bodahn nodded. Fenris and his Lady were quite close, but even he had eventually been turned away, and Bodahn was still trying to work the ragged groves left by the elf's gauntlets out of the staircase when he had left.

So far, only Orana and Fenris had been able to make it past the door. Aveline and Varric had both been turned away at his Lady's door, and he had found Lady Isabela the other morning sulking and limping around in the garden; she had tried to break into the room through the bedroom window, but had been (literally) thrown back out. Sadly, his Mistress' favorite tulips had broken her fall, and Bodahn was idly wondering how he could fix them without alerting his Lady.

His Lord Carver had visited as well, but he had barely knocked on his Lady's door and announced himself before he had been thrown out by an enraged Lady Hawke. Even though her rage had not been focused on him, Bodahn had cowered as she stood there, staring down at her Templar brother and her magic snarling and snapping around her thin frame.

"Leave," she intoned. "You never cared for me anyway, Carver. Don't try to pretend you do now."

The priest, Sebastian, had also tried to see her, but his Lady hadn't even bothered with responding to his calls, and it was a pity to watch the boy leave with his head down and shoulders sagging.

Anders was the last one to try, and it was with desperation that Bodahn had ushered him inside when the healer had come to call.

"Please, just…just try to reach her, Messere," Bodahn begged. "I realize that this must be part of the grieving process, but to be isolated this long just isn't healthy for her! I'm afraid she'll do something!"

Anders seemed to think for a moment before asking, "How is her temperament?"

Wise, Bodahn thought with relief. The healer wanted to know the details before he made a move. Very wise indeed.

"Depending on who visited her, it varied, but everyone has been turned away."

"Even Fenris?" Anders asked sharply.

"Even he, Messere," Bodahn nodded. He wasn't quite sure what the relationship between the three of them was, but he knew his Lady held both men in high regard and affection, for varying reasons. Anders certainly knew this, and by asking, was no doubt calculating his chances of success.

"Very well," the healer said, picking his staff back up and strapping it to his back once more. "I'll see what I can do."

"Surely Messere would like to leave his staff in the hall?" Bodahn asked sharply as the healer headed for the stairs.

Anders turned and offered the dwarf a small smile. "For what might happen, Bodahn, there is nothing you could do or say to convince me to leave this behind."

Ominous words, Bodahn realized as he heard the healer knock and entreat his Lady at her door.

And now he was waiting downstairs. It had been some time now, so he was certain the healer had made it to his Lady, and was now probably trying to comfort her and ease the grieving process.

He nearly had a heart attack when the whole mansion shuddered, and it was instinctual that he ran to his son, grabbed the boy, and wedged them both into the library doorway.

A door (his Lady's door, he realized) came flying over the banister and landed right where Bodahn had been moments before, sending up ash and dust as it landed with an ominous thud.

Not two seconds later, and a grey and gold form came barreling down the stairs, followed closely by a slim black and scarlet form.

"My Lady," Bodahn breathed.

She looked worse for the wear, he thought. She was fair skinned to begin with, but grief had made her skin grey. Her house robes, normally well fitted, were baggy and dirty. Her hair was unkempt and greasy, and though she was running after the healer swiftly, she lacked her usual confidence and grace.

But her magic was just as potent as ever.

"Stand still," she calls to the healer coldly, frost and ash shimmering around her form, flame conjured in one hand while the other grasps at ice.

"Make me," Anders retorts, and scurries down into the cellar.

Bodahn can only start praying for himself, his boy, and his Lady when she dashes after him.

He wasn't sure what possessed him to make that offer to her, but he had hoped it would give her something to focus on, to work out her inner turmoil.

Unfortunately, he had conveniently forgotten that once Hawke had something to focus on, she was relentless in pursuing it, property and civilian damages damned. He had thought she would resort to physical attacks on him, and he had been expecting the sting of a slap, or perhaps the bite of a well-aimed kick.

Instead, she had set her own bed on fire, and as he yelped and coughed at the smoke, he realized that she had taken him up on his offer; she would take it out on him, with everything she had in her.

It was both exhilarating and terrifying to see her standing there, outlined in smoke and flames, messy hair tangling even further, glaring over at him with utter contempt and what he had quickly recognized as blood lust; exhilarating because of the danger she represented to him and herself, but terrifying because the other people he had seen on the receiving end of this look of hers were all dead.

So Anders did what he was extremely good at – he ran.

Of course, it was all calculated. It would be bad enough if Hawke burned down her own home- but they were in Hightown, and if Meredith got wind of what was going on, even Hawke's newly reinstated noble status wouldn't protect her from the Knight Commander.

So he led her down where she could burn and freeze to her little heart's content without really inciting the wrath of the templars – Dark Town.

On the way down, she had tried to hit him with a blast of ice, and instead hit the stairs to her cellar. Anders winced as the sound of the stairs cracking and then collapsing, blocking the return route. They would have to go home another way, he thought as he dived out the door and into Dark Town.

He skidded, turned sharply, and darted off into the darkness, just narrowly missing being hit by a fireball that flared into the wall and then puffed itself out. He looked over his shoulder, sending a bolt of electricity back in retaliation.

Hawke easily dodged it, never breaking pace as she doggedly chased him further and further down.

He made it a point to take a more zig-zagging route to where he wanted to go, just to be on the safe side, and he knew she still followed by the sounds of her cursing or the hiss of flames that would hit walls or beams or a random mining cart that he purposefully kept between him and Hawke.

Without warning, he turned to face her, sending Hawke flying into the wall with a telekinetic blast as she came charging into the corridor.

"Oh, now you decide to turn and fight," she snarled, pulling herself to her feet. "And here I thought you were just going to keep on being a coward. I was looking forward to chasing you down, but this will work too."

"If you thought I'd just lay there and let you burn me alive, you were wrong," Anders snapped back. "You want to bring magic into this? Fine. I'll give you a real test, little girl, and you won't come out unscathed!"

"Good," she said, already working her next spell. "It wouldn't do for you to just lay there and take it."

Anders dived out of the way of the oncoming ice wall – which Hawke had expected. He let out a yelp of pain as she charged him, and caught his ribs with her staff. He retreated, trying to hold onto her staff and pull it from her, but he had to release it when she cast another fireball, this one aimed at his face.

He countered with a sweep of his own staff, knocking her off her feet. He twirled it, gathering speed, and then slammed it down towards her head.

Hawke jerked her head to the side, the staff harmlessly embedding itself in the dirt. She kicked his feet out from under him and rolled away, quickly leaping to her feet.

He stayed where he was, sending his own fireball her way. She leapt away to miss the bulk of it, but it brushed her thigh, burning the cloth and the skin beneath it. She cursed and hissed, and he used the distraction to get back on his feet, and retreated once more.

Hawke, despite her burn, was much quicker to follow him this time, and was much closer to catching him. So, he improvised.

Noting a rotting beam up ahead, he called to the earth around it, and with a firm mental nudge, shook the foundation around the beam as he drew closer.

The beam, and the rock ceiling it was holding up, came crashing down, almost landing on Hawke – almost. He had misjudged the distance, and the rocks had collapsed harmlessly behind them both, dust darkening his vision for several moments before he burst from the cloud. There was muffled shouting but it was behind them so Anders put it out of his mind and focused on staying ahead of Hawke. They were almost where he wanted to go-

He cried out as something cold and sharp embedded itself in his shoulder; he had lingered too long, too distracted by his thoughts, he realized grimly as he felt his blood drip down his back. She was serious, and he needed to be as well.

No more games, he thought darkly.

He tripped her with a well placed Nature's Vengence spell, vines exploding from the Dark Town dirt and muck and grabbing Hawke. He gains a few precious seconds to get ahead of her before he feels his magic give out; she set the vines that had held her and pierced her flesh on fire, and she was once again on his tail.

He felt the brush of a telekinetic blast as it passed him harmlessly as he turned a quick corner – there!

He had led her to the very edges of Dark Town – right where the slums turned into no-man's land; it was an area of Dark Town that was being fought over by the Cortre and various other thugs. Here, there was no real worry of innocents being caught in the crossfire.

Finally where they needed to be, he whirled on Hawke, calling up a wall of flames, blocking off his escape…and hers. It also would serve to keep out anyone else from butting in.

She leapt through the fire, unsigned, and sent a blast of magical energy at him. He twirled out of the way, bringing his own staff to bear, sending an answering shot back.

She took it with a shudder, running towards him in a rage. She took several more shots, which did nothing to stop her, and Anders had to duck as she swung her staff at his head.

"That's right," he panted, stepping quickly to the side when she tried to hit him again. "Take it all out on me, not all of Dark Town."

"I will take it out on whoever I please," she hissed, leaning forward and grabbing onto his arm. He yelped, trying to pull away from the burning pain she was inflicting on him, but she held tight.

"This city, these people, are nothing to me," she said.

Breaking her hold with a well-placed elbow to her ribs, Anders grabbed her, pulling her flush to him, eyes staring into her enraged lyrium blue ones.

"Do you truly mean that? No one in this city means anything to you?" he asked softly.

"My mother is dead," Hawke replied bluntly, hand raised and then closing. Anders suddenly couldn't breathe, and she broke from his grasp.

"What else do I have left?" she asked, and with a motion, pulled him into the air, and slammed him into the ground, hard.

There was a loud snap and several pops as he connected to the ground. He couldn't feel his arm and his ribs were screaming at him. Yet he still moved, knowing that if he didn't, he was likely never going to move again.

His instincts proved correct when a fireball landed where he had been laying, and he spent the next few moments leaping and dragging himself out of the way as fire rained from the ceiling that was the sky of Dark Town. One ball of flames ignited a group of barrels of questionable substance, and their explosion just adds to the cacophony of noise that is their fight. Another fireball lights an empty stall on fire, which quickly spreads to neighboring stalls, and soon that small, abandoned corner of Dark Town is alight.

He eyed her as she went through the motions of calling and directing the flames; the heat was blowing her hair across her face, her eyes were bright and fierce, and the backdrop of flames, smoke, and ash just seemed to enhance her spirit, her wildness. Even here, enraged and grieving, with everything burning around her, she was beautiful to him.

"Even if you don't realize it, you do have me," he called to her once the fire storm had died down. She paused, and he used that moment to send her flying into the wall, through the wall, and out onto the other side.

He peered into the darkness, waiting for her to come out. When the moment, and several more pass without any sign of movement, he frowned, stepping closer and wondering if she was seriously injured, and if so, if he had enough energy to heal her-

Anders was nearly impaled again on more ice, stepping aside just in time for the shards to miss him, instead tearing and shredding several beams. As they fell, the ceiling creaked warningly.

Hawke flew from the hole, hitting him upside the head with her staff. He staggered backwards, head reeling, and swiped at her blindly with another fireball. He missed, but it gave him time to clear his double vision.

Furious with himself, he latched onto her, shoving the sleeve of her robe up, and latching onto bare skin. Without a moment wasted, he sent an electrical current through her.

He felt a twinge of guilt when she started screaming, but he held on as she thrashed in his grasp. It would drain him, but he focused anyway, and quickly set to work siphoning off her energy, hoping to drain her to the point of exhaustion. He was quite tired of being burned, impaled, and smashed, thank you very much.

She broke contact with him with a cry, and sent him flying away with another mind blast. He yelled as he flew through the wall of flames and landed in the dirt with a pained grunt. He started rolling around the moment he noticed his coat was on fire, and by the time it was out, she was upon him again. He quickly stood, staff held in front of him as he panted, trying not to fall over from a combination of pain and exhaustion.

He expected another blow of magic, but instead she slowly limped forward, eyes catching and holding his, freezing him in place just as surely as any ice spell.

The first punch doesn't hurt, but it does surprise him enough that he steps back. She follows him, and punches him again, this time in the ribs. That one hurts, and he curls in on himself, hissing in pain.

She has stopped summoning magic, so he allowed her to keep attacking him, not offering any resistance. She eventually hits him hard enough, and often enough, that he finally falls to the ground, and she is right there, right on top of him, straddling his hips and pinning his arms above his head.

"I have you?" she asked softly. He winced as she reached for him, but this time, her touch was gentle, her fingers gently stroking the side of his face.

"Are you quite certain it's not the other way around?"

"Both perhaps," he said gently. He stopped struggling beneath her, looking up and watching her face.

"I hate this city," Hawke said, looking down at him, but not really seeing him, he noted.

"I hate it with as much passion as I…" she stopped, shaking her head. "I used to love being a mage Anders. I was so proud of my father, my sister, and my own magic. I actually believed that mages could do good for this world…"

"We can, love," Anders said. "We just need to show everyone that we need that chance, and the freedom to do so."

"And is our freedom worth the price?" Hawke snapped. "Is it worth what happened to my mother? A mage did that, Anders, not a Templar or a thug- a mage! And I couldn't…I couldn't stop it or save her-"

"You did the best you could love," Anders replied, trying to free a hand to touch her.

Hawke let out a loud snarl, and slammed his confined hands back down, hard, into the dirt and making him wince in pain. "That's not good enough! It was never good enough," she added miserably. "Bethany…Carver…Mother…"

"You still have Carver and your uncle," Anders reminded her quietly. "Not the best family perhaps, but you still have them."

"Not for long," Hawke said sharply, eyes boring accusingly into his. "It's only a matter of time before Gamlen pisses off someone I can't bribe. And let's not mention my dear little brother, off playing Wardens. You, of all people, know that that is a prolonged death sentence."

Anders winced, the memory of Hawke's quiet anger when she had learned of the Calling every Warden went through. He had tried comforting her, telling her they still had time, but her eyes had halted any physical comfort he could have offered, and her words broke his heart.

"I would half my life to give you a full one by my side."

If only, he thought sadly as he watched her start to tremble, her grip on his hands weakening.

"It is," he said slowly. "But he'll do good fighting the Darkspawn and it will be a full life for him."

"And you?" she asked. "What about you?"

"Me?" he said, offering her a small smile. "I'll do whatever pleases you, my lady, with everything I have."

She looked away from him at that, eyes clouded. "I…Anders…"

"Love," he said gently, easily breaking her grip on him. He sat up with a hiss of pain that he quickly muffled by pulling her against him and burying his face into her neck. She pulled away, looking down into his face with a broken look of her own before burying her face in his chest, and allowing him to hold her.

She started shaking, and soon the front of his shirt was wet. He made no comment on it, instead staying silent and rocking her gently, trying to comfort her. They were there like that long enough for some of his energy to come back, and he used it to run his magic gently over her, checking her wounds.

When he finished, he kissed the top of her head, drawing her attention back to him. "C'mon love," he said, helping her up. They are both in bad shape, but somehow, they can stand if they lean on each other. "Let's go home."

"Home…" she whispered, face tear streaked. Her lips tremble, and she lets out a choked gasp. "Home…"

The sound of the flames consuming everything covered her cries of agony as they limped away.