Trust.
Anders stormed down the staircase from the inns private rooms and into the common area, his face twisted in annoyance. The rest of their companions turned to look at the peeved Mage.
"Told you so" Isabela lazily commented "If he won't even let Merrill treat his wounds you've got no chance." Her piece said the former ship's captain tuned back to the card game.
"Read 'em and weep, boys."
Varric and Carver moaned, having lost – yet again.
"If you're playing another round deal me in. Although I figure I've probably used up all my luck by not getting chopped into itty-bitty bits."
Hawke sighed and tuned to her fellow Mage as he sat and was dealt in.
"He wouldn't let you do anything?" She asked "Those Templar's nearly killed him!"
"Not a blasted thing; wouldn't even open the door; think he's trying to bandage himself up though." Anders replied.
Hawke sighed again and turned to Merrill pleadingly. The Keeper was the closest thing to a friend that the ex-slave had.
"You can't talk some sense into him?"
"Tried, I was at him even before we got back here but he just walked up to his room shut the door in my face and locked it." Was the sad reply.
She winced. Merrill had a heart of pure gold and a truly tender soul, but even she was getting tired of trying the break through their companion's cold exterior. But something had to be done.
Hawke rose from her seat and retrieved Parlathan, and felt the eyes of every one of their companions on her. It disturbed her slightly and she felt the need to say something.
"I'll be dammed if I let that stubborn bloody elf bleed to death in his room with three Mages capable of casting healing on the floor below." She stated, and moved to the stairs.
"Your funeral." Was Varric's comment.
As she set the first foot on the stairs Carver grabbed her arm.
"You sure this is a good idea?" Her brother asked.
"Not really but it has to be done." She replied, pulling her arm from his grip.
"Just...just be careful Navessa. If you need help call out."
It was rare these days for him to use her given name and she stopped to look at him fully. He was afraid, her poor baby brother, afraid of something happening to yet another sister – he had taken the death of his twin so hard. She brushed a hand through his hair and stooped to kiss his brow, just as she had done when they were children.
"I will, promise."
She climbed the short set of stairs and headed to the first door next to the landing. It was locked, just as Merrill had said.
"Fenris!" She yelled and hammered on the door.
"Go away Hawke!"Came the response.
"Fenris either you open that door or I will."
Silence. She counted to thirty in her head. Still nothing.
"Fine." She muttered to herself. She braced herself and kicked just where the latch attached to the woodwork. The door flew open, the cheap latch broken.
Fenris sat on his bed, stripped to his loincloth but glaring and defiant. His skin was covered with long cuts, deep bruises and blood smeared across his skin. Tangles of bandages were strewn across the sheets. Just as Anders had said the elf had been trying to bind his own wounds – not easy, since the set of his right hand indicated at least a fracture, possibly a break.
"I told you to go away" The white-haired elf hissed, venom in every Tervinter-accented syllable.
"And I told you to open the door or I would." Was her deadpan reply. He snarled wordlessly in answer.
"Leave me alone!"
Hawke started screaming at him, she was her wits end with what to do with the man.
"How can I possibly do that? You are wounded, bleeding and unless my healing skills have failed me your wrist is fractured. Those Templars beat you near to death when they brought you down, eight to one..."
She trailed off; during her tirade everything about Fenris had changed. The set of his shoulders was no longer defiant but cowed, his head bent, his body hunched and his arms wrapped around himself.
'I...I have frightened him. What had that magister done to him that simply being yelled at would cause this?'
She moved to him, noticing how he flinched at her approach. She knelt before the bed and put Parlathan aside, making herself smaller and less threatening. His head was bowed, his face hidden by that white hair. She spoke now in a soft, gentle whisper.
"I know you don't like to be touched casually, I know you don't like magic or mages, but I just want to help Fenris – I just want to helpyou. Please, just for this can you trust me?"
His head rose slightly and moss-green eyes stared into bird-of-prey yellow. She held the gaze, letting him search it for what he was looking for, waiting for his decision. Slowly he held out his injured wrist to her, their gazes still locked. She took it, cradling it tenderly.
She whispered the healing incantation, feeling the hot rush of magic travel from her hands to his, watching the emerald light of it wash across up his arm and across his skin. The Lyrium of his brands glowed at the touch of magic. His wounds closed, the bruises faded and the wrist reset.
"Thank you Fenris." She murmured.
She turned his hand over, checking that the bone had been fully and properly reset. The light played over the Lyrium in his skin.
"Do they hurt?" She asked, suddenly needing to know.
"They...ache...sometimes." Was his hesitant reply.
She lightly stroked her thumbs over the branding, but stopped when he gasped.
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you!"
She felt horrible, and after the trust he had just shown her...
"It...It didn't hurt...Pl-Please don't stop."