Yes, because I totally stayed away for what, almost 48 hours? This will be one of two more stories set in the Sane Mage AU - the other will follow our friends after DA2, once they flee to Starkhaven. Before, during, and after the epilogue. Both this and it will be slower going, as I have no particular goal - I just can't leave them alone, and I keep getting brainworm ideas. I'm not as happy with this as I was with A Sane Mage, because it's harder to write Orana than it is Lise, and Fen isn't as smooth as Orsino - but I think I'll get into it. I'll have something for most, if not all of the companions - Sebastian/Flora, Nate/Bethany, etc - so if there's anything you'd like to see more of, just say the word! They may be shorter chapters; expect each vignette to span 2-4 chapters, most likely. Also, for this, it was brought to my attention that Fenris was swearing using "Maker" as an expletive. As this is not something he would do in game (sorry, I'm still focused on writing for Lise and Varric!) I've changed it, apologies if it sounded off!

Without further ado, our lyrium warrior makes his debut - angrily. I love you, Fen!

The Taming of The Wolf, part 1.

Fenris was irritated, and he wasn't sure whether to blame it on Hawke or Hadriana. If the magister hadn't brought her entire bloody household – ugh, what an awful pun – to use as ritual fodder while chasing him down, the whole issue could have been avoided. But had it really been necessary for Hawke to bring the girl home? Sure, she was naïve – there was no way she'd survive on the streets, alone. Sure, she was an amazing servant. But there are over a hundred noble estates in this district alone, and she probably would have been just as happy in a well-to-do household, of which there are countless more. As it was, he now had to deal with his irritation every time he came to visit.

It wasn't that Orana herself was irritating. On the contrary – she was unflaggingly kind, if meek as a mouse – she was "sweet," as Leandra dubbed her. And that was the problem. Mild-mannered to the core, she went about her duties at the estate – cleaning, cooking, and acting as a sort of maid to both Hawke and her mother – quietly and cheerfully. How in Thedas can she act like nothing's wrong? She spent the first eighteen years of her life as a slave. I know how Hadriana treated me; I can only imagine what she had to go through. How can she be so content, now that she knows what they did to her?

It had all started when he and Hawke, with Varric and Anders in tow, had tracked Hadriana to a previously-abandoned set of caverns, once used as a holding area for slaves. On one hand, he really hadn't wanted the mage along – he never wanted mages along – but they'd been ambushed while on the way to another job Hawke had undertaken and he'd had no say in who she brought along on those trips. On the other hand, maybe it would scare some sense into the fool, when he saw some of what heinous acts were committed in the search for more power – Fenris knew there would be plenty of blood magic going on if a Tevinter magister was present.

He'd been right, of course. The place reeked of fresh blood – he could smell it so strongly that it made him feel ill, and he knew that even without his sense of smell the others could sense it. Fresh corpses were everywhere, and were there were more corpses, there were more demons and shades. As for the number of slave hunters, well – that was a given.

After walking into the third room filled with even more hunters, his anger level peaked at an all-time high since – well, for as long as he could remember having known Hawke, at least. He barreled into the room, ahead of the others – he really didn't want to see, yet again, the worried looks that Hawke and Varric were exchanging – and began to lay into Hadriana's soldiers with his greatsword. He'd just finished decapitating one when he sensed another behind him; he whirled around with his sword raised and only just managed to pull the blow in time when the non-large-or-armour-clad individual screamed in terror.

A very frightened, very young-looking elven girl stood, frozen, in front of him, looking as if she were about to pass out in fear. His first thought was, She's alive – he gasped out, "Are you all right?" – and his second thought was – and I almost killed her. Hawke rushed to his side and he fell back slightly; once the girl was confronted with someone other than himself she seemed to calm down a little. So why was it me she looked at when she asked if I was her new master?

Everything after that was still a blur. He didn't remember much of the rest of that day – just losing his temper at Hawke several times, which she didn't deserve, yet very graciously accepted. She understood why he was so upset, even if she didn't like it. That understanding was one of the reasons he respected her so much – she was probably the best friend he'd ever had, or could ever remember having.

It was the next day, when he'd gone to apologize to Hawke for his behaviour, that he first learned Orana's name. The two friends had reconciled quickly – Hawke was never one to hold a grudge, though she did take him to task for breaking a promise he'd made to Hadriana. That, in turn, made him feel guilty, which brought the irritation back. When the conversation – wisely, though against his will – turned to his sister and whether Hadriana had been lying about her, he lost his temper again, bringing his fist down onto the table next to the divan in Hawke's study.

Just as Orana – whom he hadn't even noticed as she came in, so quiet was she and so angry was he – was about to set a tray of drinks and turnovers down upon the aforementioned table.

She squeaked, jumped back, and fled – though not before carefully setting the tray upon the desk, which showed her training; good slaves never dropped trays – or anything else, for that matter – no matter the circumstances, as Fenris well remembered. He swore in Arcanum as Hawke went to the desk to pick up the tray; she raised an eyebrow as she set the cups down and merely said, mildly, "Do please try not to frighten her too badly."

Hawke had apparently spoken to Orana about him that night, because the next time he'd met her she seemed to be wary, but less timid, though she still did not speak; even when he'd had words with Hawke concerning Anders, she hadn't done much other than blink and start a little. Somehow, that made him feel a little more guilty – she'd been free for less than a month and was already adapting. He just didn't understand it. She also seemed to watch him whenever he visited, which he understood even less.

No, the first time they'd actually spoken – apart from "please," "thank you," and (frequently from him) "blast it, I'm sorry" - had been only the day before. Hawke had given him a gift – The Book of Shartan, since he'd been asking questions about Andraste and the Dales (he knew much more about her overthrow of the Tevinter Imperium, as that was a favourite subject of his.) He'd been forced to admit that he could not read, and although he accepted when she'd offered to teach him, he was feeling badly embarrassed until Orana spoke up, quietly.

"Please, Mistress – would you teach me, as well? I cannot read, but have always wanted to. You've got so many books here."

Hawke looked surprised and pleased. "Of course, Orana! In fact, if Fenris doesn't mind, I can teach the both of you together." She looked at him, and he blinked, then looked at Orana, who had glanced away, blushing.

He flushed. "Why are you asking me, Hawke? You're the one doing the teaching."

She smiled, cheerfully. "That's settled, then!" She bustled off to the upper level of the study and he heard her pulling books off the shelves, murmuring to herself. He sighed, and looked back at Orana, then started as he saw that she'd sat down on the divan, as well.

Clasping her hands, she continued to blush as she looked down. "Thank you, Master Fenris. It's something I wanted to ask Mistress Hawke about, but could never find the courage."

He shook his head. "Don't ever call me Master!" He caught himself before he'd gotten too loud; she was still looking down, and although she winced at his tone, she nodded. He continued, keeping his voice level. "Just- I understand why you call Hawke Mistress, but you're free now, Orana. She wants the best for you, so you don't have to be afraid." Orana nodded again, but still would not look up.

He stood, sighing. "It's getting late, Hawke. We'll start this school of yours another day."

Orana looked up. "But, Mas- messe- serah. I've just finished cooking dinner, won't you stay?" She reached out as she said this; her hand only lightly touched his arm but it was enough and he jerked back. "Don't!"

She cringed away and he winced, running a hand over his face. "It's not you, Orana. I'm - sorry." He turned and saw that Hawke had come back to the fire and was watching him with a raised eyebrow. "I'll see you in a few days. Send word whenever you want to start-" he waved at the room "-this thing." She nodded, and he left as quickly as he could without running.

The next morning he was startled by a knock at his door. Hawke never knocked – she just walked in, knowing that standing around at the front door would just call attention to the estate. Usually only the authorities, sent to investigate rumours of vagrants and squatters. ever knocked. Aveline usually did a good job of keeping her guardsmen away, but apparently today she'd failed.

He stood next to the cellar door, preparing to dive in the minute the door opened, but as the minutes passed, nothing happened. He frowned. The first knock is usually only ever on habit, they then come right in – though the fools don't realize that they're alerting any squatters that might be inside in plenty of time for them to hide. I guess they're just hoping to trick someone into answering the door. Or, they're stupid. He chuckled, grimly. My guess is that it's the latter.

While he was thinking this, he'd crept into the foyer and up to the small, thin window next to the door. It showed a small portion of the front steps – and he could see no one at the door. Fenris frowned and straightened up; he started to put the empty bottle he'd picked up as a weapon down in the corner – it was always helpful to cultivate a derelict look with plenty of refuse – when the knock came again. He grabbed the door handle, raised the bottle as a makeshift club, and pulled the door open – just in time to see Orana, who was carrying a covered plate, blink and cringe. She was so short and slight that she'd been invisible from the window.

He swore to himself, and thinking quickly, reached out to grab her wrist, pulling her inside. Slamming the door, he put the bottle down on the floor and stayed in a crouched position while he willed the adrenaline rush to go away. Orana, meanwhile, stood frozen. Once he could breathe normally, he looked up at her. "I'm sorry. It's just bad to have anyone standing too long outside, lest they call unnecessary attention to this place."

She looked stricken. "I'm so sorry, serah."

Fenris stood – slowly, as he tried his best to keep from doing anything else to frighten her – and shook his head. "Don't be sorry, you couldn't know." He smiled faintly. "If anything, blame Hawke for not telling you."

"Oh! No! I could never blame Mistress Hawke for anything!"

He laughed at this, the sound surprising them both. "You haven't known her for as long as I have. But I really wish you'd stop calling me serah. It makes me feel… uneasy."

She nodded, slowly. "I'll… try." Looking down, she seemed to remember the plate she carried, for she held it out. "I baked this morning, and since you didn't stay for supper last night…"

He blinked. "For me? Thank you." He took it slowly. "I'm sorry I was an ass last night. I'm sorry I keep acting like an ass. I'm always like this, I'm afraid. Just ask Hawke."

She shook her head. "Oh, no, Mas- Fenris. Mistress Hawke… told me about you. I was surprised that you'd been a slave – I didn't realize you were the one Mistress Hadriana was looking for." She looked down at her feet. "And I didn't know about your tattoos, though Mistress told me about them last night. They hurt, don't they?"

He flushed – his markings were not his favourite subject, but she could not know that, so he forced himself to speak calmly. "Sometimes, but usually it's just that… I get startled, easily. But they are hyper-sensitive." He sighed, turning to place the plate on a nearby table. "You probably won't want to spend too much time around me. You've seen how I am, and I'm sure Hawke can tell you more horror stories."

Orana shook her head, flushing. "I… would rather talk to you sometimes, if you don't mind. You were a slave, too – I feel more comfortable around you. It's strange to be free."

He looked at her, incredulously. "Even though I've almost killed you several times?"

She shook her head. "But I don't think you really would."

Fenris frowned. "That's just the problem, Orana. It wouldn't be intentional." He turned, pacing a little. "How do you do it? I just can't understand you."

She blinked. "How do I do what?"

"Trust everyone, so easily. It even took me the better part of a year to trust Hawke, yet you seem to have accepted her completely. After what you've been through, how can you trust anyone?"

Orana looked nonplussed. "I don't understand what you mean, Fenris. Mistress Hawke is nothing like Mistress Hadriana. She freed me, and if it wasn't for her I wouldn't even have a home. How can I not trust her?"

"But doesn't it make you angry? Living as you do now, you have to know the difference between your old life and your new one. Aren't you mad at the people who held you, who enslaved you and your father and grandfather before you? They're the reason your life is like this."

"Like what? I have a home, and Mistress Hawke takes wonderful care of me and even pays me. Everyone else is so kind, I'm allowed to do anything I want, and I'm even going to learn how to read. Why would I think about being a slave anymore? I'm not. Mistress Hadriana is dead. I would think she'd be happy if I was still sad because of her."

Fenris blinked and just stared at Orana. After a few moments she began to blush, and ducked her head. "Mistress Hawke will be looking for me soon, I should go."

He watched her leave, still unable to say a word.

The characters belong to Bioware, I just borrow them.