A/N: Just reaaalllly felt like writing more, since I got so many hits on my last story :)

There are two halves to this one. If I get a couple of reviews, I'll post the other part!

Thanks for reading!



Ellora Hawke span in a tight circle, the metal disks embroidered on her leather armor clicking together in a tinkly battle song.

She leapt into the air, avoiding the swing of a gigantic battleaxe and breaking the jaw of its owner with a steel-toed boot.

This was an image that would stay with Fenris until his dying day.

Hawke, frozen in time. Dressed in a bloodied leather armor-skirt and shimmering silverite breastplate, metal greaves and long boots with metal caps over the toes. A sword was clutched in each of her gloved hands, curved and wider at the ends than the handles with skeletal hand designs carved into the flat of the blades. Both of them were smeared with gore. In fact, every inch of her body up to her chin seemed to be coated in the stuff.

Above her chin, her face was somehow clean. Freckles a faded version of her fiery red hair, which was spread around her head like a flaming halo. Deep, dark green eyes filled with a wild glee, mouth spread in a feral, laughing grin.

She was beautiful.

A goddess.

She took his breath away, caught in the air, stopped in this action-pose, bent into an acrobatic shape taught with purpose and exhilaration. One foot in the face of a slaver.

Defending herself, so that she could defend all of them.

So she could defend him.

This picture of her plastered itself inside his head, on his mind, blinded him as it burned itself behind his eyes.

He blinked.

The world resumed, she came down from the man's face and stabbed him in the back with fluid grace.

Fenris turned back to his own attacker, a tall Tevinter slaver with two wicked longswords and a crazed look in his eye. The elf raised his own weapon, a greatsword that looked suspiciously like a gigantic butcher knife.

It slid from his hands.

His fingers had gone slack. His arms fell to his sides.

Confused, Fenris looked down at his body.

The hilt of one of the slaver's longswords protruded from a chink in the armor covering the elf's belly.

Something thick and red, laced with tendrils of something that glowed silver-blue, was leaking from beneath the weapon.

It took a second for him to understand what was happening, and it wasn't until his brain, working in slow-motion, had come to the conclusion that he'd been stabbed that the pain came.

It hit him hard, shattering the world. The grin of his attacker split into a thousand pieces. The sun turned gray and the sky exploded into stars. Everything tilted and swayed.

Someone was screaming his name.

Something hot and wet was falling in a steady stream on his face. Someone asked him what he was doing, why he hadn't been paying attention.

Begged him for the answer.

Pleaded with him.

He forced the answer out through numb lips, out around the throbbing fire spreading from his belly into every inch of the rest of his body.

"I... I was..." he rasped, trying his hardest to get his tongue to obey him. The voice sobbed its desperate need for his answer, and as his fractured vision faded to black, he managed to reply.

"I was watching the sun."