So... first Dragon Age fic since I got into the franchise. Really enjoying it by the way. So much dialogue, quests, people, hate, it's beautiful. And yes for once, I've actually paired a couple. Very likely I'll never do it again though.
Anyway, enough of me drabbling on, here you go!

Men came rushing in from all angles, their blades, staves and bows poised to strike at any given command. The small family cowered in fear, unable to defend themselves from such a huge crowd of armed soldiers. The mother held her children close doing whatever she can to protect what she held dear to her. The leader of the army moved towards them, his arms held behind his back, a cruel smile etched on his face. "Hand over the child and no blood will be shed," he spoke in a low, serious tone. Yet he kept his mouth in a lying smile. No matter what she did, she was going to die anyway. The frightened woman held the wanted child closer.

"Please! Don't take him!" the mother pleaded. "Don't take my little boy!"

The man snickered. "I'm afraid you have no other choice, serah" he declared, now extending his robed hand out to collect the child. The woman did not dare to let go of her son, tears began to well in her eyes. The young boy looked up at his mother with fearful eyes.

"Mother? What's going to happen? Please don't let them take me" he pleaded. The lady looked down upon her son and caressed his cheek and stroking his chocolate brown hair to comfort him, also muttering words into his ear. The mage brought his arm back.

"I don't have all day! Hand him over at once!" he scowled, the smile finally wiped from his face

"Don't fear them, my son. I will not let them take you or your sister. Not while I still breathe" she said, trust gleaming in her eyes. The boy stared at the man, his towering figure daunting and unwavering. His eyes burned like fire into his very soul.

"You can't stop us from taking him!" the man spoke. "I am a Tevinter Magister, much more powerful than you could ever be. I'm in a higher class. You are just an elf! A slave! Nothing more. The Maker created you to be a slave and you can't change that no matter how hard you try! Whether you like it or not, you will obey my orders!" Danarius bent towards them, making eye contact with the fearful woman. "And since you are not cooperating as I had hoped, it's time I leave with your son." The mages hand reached towards the boys' face. Everything around him was now black. He could feel the powerful grasp of his captors hand wrench him from his mother and sister, dragging him further and further from the people he held dear to him.

"Leto! Leto!" he heard his mother cry. He continued to struggle against the man's power. He could not speak, as for something covered his mouth. He could still hear his mother beg for him to return. However, her voice became fainter with each passing second.

"Shut it!" screamed a deep voice. He heard his mother cry out before everything went silent. Leto then dreaded for the worst as he heard his sister scream. The voices around him started to grow quiet; the last thing he heard was the voice of his captor.

"Oh don't you worry" he taunted, his devious smirk returning to his face. "It'll feel just like home with all the dirt and grime Fenris. My 'little wolf'." The boys' eyes went wide with fear at his new name. He soon lost all feeling in his body, his eyes closing against his will.

"Mother…" he spoke mentally as the world around him went cold and silent.

His eyelids fluttered before he fully opened them, welcoming the warmth that bathed his body. Fenris lifted his head. He had fallen asleep in a chair next to the cosy fireplace fitted into his mansion, a three-quarter empty bottle still gripped in his right hand. A quiet sigh left his lips. "Another dream…" he muttered. These dreams have been going on for several days now. He even had images flash through his head during the day and at worst time too, such as fighting the Darkspawn, mages or the slavers. The information Varania had told him before he killed her only gave him a very little answers to his strange memories. All that he knew was that his name used to be Leto. So that boy must have been… him? He couldn't be sure. However, he could easily recognise the man that had forcibly taken him from his family, the wretched bastard that he used to call master. Danarius was now dead, killed by the thing he was after in the first place, Fenris' lyrium markings, the burdened markings that led him to escape; to escape without the family he could no longer remember.

He took a swig of his wine, and creased his brows. Now Varania and Danarius were dead, he had no family, no one that knew his past. But he was glad he killed his sister. Maker, she was a mage! Did she not see what Danarius had done to him? Yet, she gave away her own brother to become an apprentice mage.

"Do you regret? What happened to your sister, I mean" Merrill asked as she followed her team through Lowtown.

"No" was Fenris' answer, anger still surged through his lyrium filled blood.

The Dallish elf was cautious with her words. "You don't feel bad about killing her? Not even a bit?"

Fenris growled. "It was necessary" he said as calmly as possible. "One day, like all mages, she would succumb to the temptations that demons and blood magic has to offer. Not killing her would have only postponed her death." Merrill was quiet after that, not daring to say another work to the already angered warrior.

That elf had no right to tell him what to do. After all, she was a mage herself, a blood mage to be exact. She was already too far gone. He took another sip of his wine and rested his arms on his lap, staring into the fire. He was surprised that he returned to Kirkwall after that blasted war, and surprised that anyone had even dared to return. Even his fellow teammates had returned to their homes, not caring if the surrounding area was still covered in the dried blood and bones of the fallen innocents and soldiers. They were going to work together, to return Kirkwall to its former glory with Hawke as the Viscountess. Hopefully then, will the madness end.

Fenris' hand was now stinging in pain. Turning his hand to the offending appendage, he realised that he had crushed the bottle, the shards cutting his hand and the remaining content of the bottle layed spilt across the damaged tiles. He again sighed to himself as he stood, easily dismissing the pain as if it never happened. He needed to rest. His pointless anger and stress was not what he needed, not when he had a long day ahead of him tomorrow. And with that, the elf led himself to his room, leaving the warmth of the fire and the broken bottle on the floor. The flame flickered from a sudden gust of wind, before somehow being snuffed out completely.

There you go! And yes, I know I did steal a little dialogue from when Merrill and Fenris are talking but I thought it suited that part. I hope this was okay for a first DA fic, I'm not used to it yet. Please tell me if I do something wrong. I'll be sure to fix it. Til next time, stay awesome! XD