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Definitely Not a Blood Mage

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“Blood magic requires you look a demon in the eye and accept their deal.” Anders said while they were travelling along the coast.

Hawke turned to face him and grinned. His teeth were white and gleaming in the Kirkwall sun. Anders shivered then raised his eyebrows in alarm. “You? It goes against all Chantry law... How could you?” His mind swirled as he tried to revaluate the man  he’d been following for weeks and thought he knew.

Hawke just shrugged and waggled his eyebrows. “He was very charming. And those horns... Mm!”

Anders blanched. He swore he heard Justice cackling in the background though it was soon drowned out by Isabella and Hawke doubled over and howling over some dirty pun regarding demons and taints.

Anders cast a barrier around himself to block out the noise and quickened his pace along the trail.



After taking down a Templar-turned-abomination, Knight-Captain thanked them for their aid. He paused mid-sentence and stared at the unattended wound from Hawke’s arm. It was bleeding freely, the flow trickling down his fingers in a steady plink, plink, plink, plink, staining his boots.

It was terribly obvious.

Yet Cullen merely raised his eyebrows in confusion and said, “You are... bleeding, Serrah?”

Hawke’s wide grin faltered only momentarily. Then with a jaunty salute and a cheeky grin, he remembered what folks without magical healing do in such cases: he rummaged through his pack for a bandage.

Anders placed his head in his hands and stifled a groan.



“I hesitate to ask what method you used that you are so certain that Keran is no longer possessed.” Cullen said, eyes narrowed with suspicion. Anders snorted, the man was finally getting it!

Anders bristled as Hawke stepped into Cullen’s personal space. He heard Hawke’s voice drop low and intimate as a lover, eyes raking over Cullen’s fully clad figure. “I used blood magic of course.” Hawke twirled a dagger on the tip of his finger with a cocky flourish and stepped away.

Cullen's rumbling chuckles filled the hall.



“Mages aren’t like you or me, they must be watched,“ Cullen said. His expression was gentle and imploring as he focused on Hawke. Cullen must know they were all apostates by now yet comments like this was really solidifying Anders' belief that all Templars were denser than a stone wall.

Hawke was nodding solemnly, in reply, his scarred hands clasped behind his back. That audacious wooden staff strapped to his back knocked against the stone as he straightened, echoing harshly in the lifeless gallows square.

“Blood magic is a sin against the maker.” Hawke said with a note of distaste.

Anders’ boggled. He stared at Hawke incredulously but he kept his mouth shut in a hard line. Justice nudged irritably in the back of his mind and Anders rubbed at his temple to keep the pressure at bay. The rest of Hawke’s companions shuffled on their feet, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Good Fereldan’s like us need to stick together!” Hawke clasped Cullen on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. “Perhaps we could discuss Kirkwall’s growing blood magic problem sometime, I have some ideas. Over dinner perhaps?” Hawke punctuated the question with a wink. It was obscene and not in the least subtle. Anders groaned and Justice for once, agreed.

Beside him, Carver scowled. “Brother...” he said, voice low.

Merrill slapped a hand over her mouth to hide the amusement.

Cullen tried and failed to maintain the expressionless mask of a Templar, but he instead stuttered and stammered. Anders watched as the Knight-Captains neck and cheeks turned bright red and he cast his eyes downward, then quietly accepted the invitation with a gracious ‘Thank-you, Serrah’.

Carver stormed off with a huff, muttering curses under his breath. Anders observed a fascinating stain on the sole of his boot.

Hawke was going to get them all killed. He knew this for certainty when Hawke whistled merrily as he strut past a group of templars at the docks. He mock bowed as the passed then proceeded to gratuitously check out one of the younger men in the back.

Anders' laughter was strained and horrible as he quickly followed Hawke, hiding his face from the templars furious glares.