Taking a break from the main fic I'm writing. :)
This short, one-shot has been buzzing around my head for a while, and I had to write it! Hope you like it!
Bioware owns everything, I just play around with the characters...
Thank you PheonRen for your feedback and constant support!
What Magic Touched That Didn't Spoil
Fenris had forgotten what it was like - he didn't even know if he had felt it before.
Looking at her, he could feel his whole body tingling, heat spreading down to his groin. He knew what she was, yet this did not stop him from wanting her so badly that-
Gritting his teeth, he let out a low snarl as he watched the monster apostate smile tenderly down at her, his hand caressing her cheek lovingly. He saw him bend down slightly to whisper something in her ear. A whisper that did not carry over to where he was standing with Varric. Yet he knew what the mage was telling her. Oh, yes. He knew...and it was killing him.
His eyes focused on her. Soft and strong at the same time.
Marian Hawke: Clever, intelligent Marian Hawke. A person who had survived the horrors of the Deep Roads, even though her brother had not. Fenris shook his head, trying to clear it from the images of Marian wielding her staff, the magic pouring forth, killing everything in its wake. Magic was wrong. Magic had enslaved him. Magic had burned the lyrium tattoos all over his body, causing him to forget whatever existence he had before, reducing him to become Danarius's favorite pet - a valuable object to put away or abuse at a whim.
The laughter that floated over to where he stood distracted him and he stopped brooding, turning his head again to look at Hawke, who was now standing on her toes, kissing Anders on the cheek.
"Elf," Varric said slowly, "try not to brood so much. It's pouring out of you in waves right on Bianca."
"I am not brooding."
"Sure you aren't. The dark cloud over your head and the black smoke exuding from your body is merely a figment of my overripe imagination," Varric deadpanned, his hand waving Fenris off nonchalantly before the elf could say a word.
"What's just a figment of your imagination?" Marian asked, walking up to them with Anders in tow.
"Oh, you know, Hawke. Dragons, bandits, dark, brooding elves...the usual."
Anders chuckled, and Fenris glared at him with hatred, something that Anders did not notice, or chose to ignore. Right now, Marian Hawke was once again capturing all his attention and he didn't care about Fenris's glare or hatred.
"Well, I suggest we should try to walk a little faster. Aveline told us she would meet us further up ahead, and I don't want to be late," Marian said in a clear voice.
They stepped into a particular rocky section of the wounded coast when it happened. A group of armed men appeared on a hilly crop, one of them carrying a staff.
"Hunters!" Fenris growled.
"Step away from the slave, and we'll let you go," a burly man called out menacingly.
Marian whisked out her staff, reaching out into the Veil before he had a chance to growl out that he was not a slave.
"Fenris is a free man!" The spell she had concentrated on sped outwards, hitting the slave hunters with venom. Then the battle really began...
...
When it was over, and Hadriana lay dead at Fenris's feet, he felt the rage barreling outwards, even though he had already killed the bitch. Marian rested a friendly hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off violently, turning on her, while Anders rushed forward to protect her. He watched as the abomination mage placed himself by her side, and saw him ready himself to defend her. He ignored the stance Anders adopted and focused entirely on her.
Fenris yelled and growled, spitting out words of hatred, and she just stood there, looking at him, concern etched all over her lovely face. His fists clenched and unclenched. She was a mage. She deserved to be hurt!
"What has magic touched that it hasn't spoiled?"
The words came out with venom, and Marian's countenance changed. She looked at him, a mixture of surprise and sorrow on her face.
He faltered then, knowing that he had gone too far.
"I - have to go."
Fenris ran out, and did not stop running till he arrived in Kirkwall.
...
His feet led him to her estate, even as he knew she was probably not back. He knocked on her door. Bodhan let him in when he said he wanted to wait for her.
In the stillness of the darkened foyer, he waited, his heart hammering loudly in his chest. He felt ashamed, for she was first and foremost his friend. But he also felt calmer than he had in years.
A soft footfall told him she was back and the direction of her soft voice also told him she had gotten inside using a back entrance. He waited for her to make an appearance, his eyes fixed on the stone floor before him - his mind going over the apology he would give her.
When she finally stood before him, the words failed him for a few moments and he had to stand and force himself to think.
"I wanted to apologize for what happened at the Holding Caves," he started, seemingly unsure of himself.
"I had no idea where you went, I was concerned," Marian whispered.
He swallowed thickly, turning from her for a moment, gathering up his resolve to speak to her again. It blew his mind that she could wield magic, yet be so immune to its downfalls.
"I wanted to kill her. When I was a slave she would hound my sleep, deny me my meals, taunt and punish me. I was powerless to respond, and she knew it. I thought I had gotten past this hate, but it continues to dog me no matter where I go. I - I am sorry if I hurt you..."
"I understand," she whispered.
He turned to look at her and felt his groin tighten again, his heart clenching as he felt the emotion in it, the fire coursing through his veins...
"You are generous," he began, and she shook her head.
"I'm your friend, Fenris. I will always be here for you. Remember that," she murmured, her hand touching his gently.
For a split moment he imagined that she was his. He would love her and follow her to the Void itself. Then he remembered who she really belonged to and he shook her hand away, a snarl on his face and lips.
She blinked back at him, concern again in her lovely blue eyes and he was sorry again.
Because she would never belong to him. Never be his to kiss or to love. Never would he feel the warmth of her body as he cherished and worshipped it before making her his. Never would he be able to tell her how much she meant to him. Never would he whisper the words he felt.
He simply stood there and told her he didn't really know what friendship meant and left.
He left because he knew she didn't love him. But most of all, he left because he knew she would never love him.
But as he walked the short distance to his mansion, he understood one thing: She was the one thing that magic could touch and would never, ever spoil.
THE END