"I am totally keeping it!" Anders exclaimed, his face, usually strained, lit up with a smile.
"Anders?" Garret asked, his eyebrow lifted high.
It was too late. Anders had started to coo and purr at the cat which looked half-annoyed and half-terrified. Garrett wished they had found gold or something of value in this chest, however. They'll need the coin to get into Bartrand's expedition. He sighed as he ruffled through the chest again. Only this strange... Was it some kind of bag? It seemed so. Two tiny metallic handles were holding it close. Garrett couldn't help but feel amazed at the device. The tiny hooks magically holding onto each other and sealing the bag. It was made of a really sturdy but garish material and it seemed heavy. He decided to open it when they'd be back at Varric's suite at the Hanged Man. Anders was too busy with the cat.
"Calm down, little one. Argh!"
Garrett turned around in time to give the cat a good window to pounce at his face and rebound on the pink and yellow bag. The cat sat there, a menacing hiss in its throat.
"Come on, we won't steal your stuff, promise, Kitty." Varric said. The beardless dwarf sounded annoyed.
"Stupid cat." Carver growled, lifting his mallet high.
"Don't!" Anders yelled.
Garrett never thought Carver would stop. But he did. And the cat hadn't moved. However, it still seemed scared, its fur was in complete disarray, its tail swinging right and left and its legs tensed. Garrett never heard of that kind of feline loyalty. Not toward objects. He'd also never heard or saw black cats sporting blue eyes...
"Listen, cat." Garret said, cautiously. "We're not enemies. I promise I won't steal the bag. Anders can take you both."
The cat's tail stopped moving and it sat on the bag. Its fur was still bristled, though. Anders, understanding Garrett, kneeled in front of the cat.
"Come on, pussycat." he softly said. "I'll carry your bag."
Hesitantly, the cat walked toward the mage in an awkward and gauche way. When it was finally in Anders arms, it seemed to only calm down further when he seized the bag and used the straps to settle it on his shoulder.
"Seems like this thing was made to wear on both shoulders to even the weight." Varric noticed.
"Like a backpack. The straps are wide enough so it won't ruin your back." Garrett added.
"It's kind of heavy." Anders growled as he used the second strap. While doing so, he noticed the contraption used to tighten up the straps and he pulled on them.
"It's incredibly light, now." he added. "It was really well conceived... Unless…"
"We can marvel at the stupid bag later!" Carver hurriedly half shouted. "Let's move out!"
Garrett and him moved toward the door. Anders looked down on the cat which struggled to keep itself steady, as if it didn't know what to do with so many paws.
When they were finally out, the cold air of Kirkwall mixed with the usual stench found in every Alienage in the world hit them with force and a band of soldiers in matching armour were gasping at them.
"They don't have an elf!" one of them yelled.
"But they have the cat!"
"Doesn't matter! Kill anyone who leaves this shack, they said. Come on, boys!"
Garrett winced in annoyance and prepared a fire ball to scorch the area with. Bianca was thrilled to have Varric's hands on her as she had itched for some action for a while.
Anders didn't cast a lot of spells, letting the elder Hawke sibling burn his mana, shaping it into destructive forces. Instead he was saving his in case someone got seriously hurt or needed emergency shielding against the risks inherent to a Lowtown street brawl. He summoned energy from the Fade to shield Carver and Garrett, two targets of choice from both the position of one and the status of the other as a mage wielding the destructive forces of nature.
The fight was over soon, though. Garret's skill when it came to deal with big packs of morons was unrivalled. The only person left standing looked like a leader. He had an air about him that screamed "I don't need Orlesian blood to be a pompous arsehole".
"You made a serious mistake coming here." He said, his eyes riveted on the cat that was still in Anders arms. "Men! To me!" he yelled.
The band was already prepared for combat, but they froze anyway, waiting for something to happen, however only a limping soldier, wearing the same uniform as the others came and fell down the Alienage's steps whith a wheeze that suspiciously sounded like a death rattle.
"Your men are dead." A deep voice rang.
And the cat finally got free from Anders' satchel of poultices, running to the tall elf that had just talked.
Was it the stairs, of was he really that tall? Garrett could swear he was almost his height, though his delicate features and pointy ears marked him as a member of the People. He was clad in a black armour made of leather and metal and ornamented with crow feathers. He had the most curious Dalish tattoos on his face and bare arms and his hair was white as snow. His eyes seemed to glow with fury. Only after diving into his eyes would anyone realise that his right arm was covered in blood as if he had dipped it in a basin full of it.
Or a body.
"And your trap had failed." The Elf continued. His voice was dripping with poisonous contempt at the leader of the mercenaries.
The strange Dalish man, or so they supposed, gracefully got downstairs, his bare feet expertly avoiding blood pools and sharp objects. The cat jumped on him and the Elf let it cling to his shoulders. They could see the cats claws sink into the Elf's skin to steady itself, but the Elf didn't seem to hurt or care.
"I suggest you return to your master while you still can."
The leader of the mercenaries' face contorted in rage or triumph, it was difficult to tell.
"You're not going anywhere, slave!" he spat as he was drawing his sword.
The cat yawned, as if it was bored.
"I am not a slave." The Elf whispered.
Carver shivered.
The Elf glowed.
His arm, still covered in blood, reached through the mercenary's chest and back. The other man gasped and fell to the floor. In the Elf's hand, a beating heart.
Carver puked. Anders was jumpy. Garrett's eyes were trying to eat his face. Varric was wondering why it always happened in combat and never when he had any parchment, quills and strong dwarven ale.
The cat hadn't moved from the Elf's shoulders and, aside from its general clumsiness making it claw at the Elf, it seemed not to bother about what had just transpired.
The heart fell to the floor with a wet sound that made Carver retch again.
"I apologise." The Elf said, now facing the company.
He was indeed only slightly less tall than Garrett, a giant by elven standards, towering over Varric and members of his own race. He had broad shoulders and a slim waist. The picture of handsome mixed with the strange of his white hair and inking, that now that he could examine them closer didn't look Dalish at all. They were not made with the special ink that Merill wore only on her face.
"When I asked Anso to provide a distraction, I had no idea they would be so numerous."
"Wait, you were responsible for this?" Hawke asked.
"I'm the reason you're here, yes." The Elf said. "My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's property. Namely myself and Freedom."
Fenris' hand went to his shoulders where the clumsy cat was perched. It slowly let itself glide and settle in its master's arm.
"Their methods to lure me into the open were crude, but I couldn't face them alone and burdened with my companion and her bag. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely. I trust that the content of the bag was untouched?"
"We didn't open it." Varric said. "We were afraid the colours would stain our fingers."
"Also, you didn't need to lie to have our help." Garret added. "We're always happy to kill some more slavers."
"Thank you again, then. Freedom and I rarely met people who would help us out of kindness alone." Fenris said and his face relayed the emotion. "However, I must ask you one last thing before I repay you for your help. Our former master accompanied the mercenaries to Kirkwall. If we ever want to be free, we must confront him. Would you help us?"
"Wait a minute." Anders said. "Is Freedom really a cat? I never a black one with blue eyes. It is clearly not blind."
Fenris sighed.
"Freedom is the reason why I am free. My master had recaptured me, but he also had made other acquisitions. From the guards he had with him at the time, I heard strange rumours. I can't tell you her whole story here or now, only that she is as much a victim as every slave that ever has been branded and chained."
Garrett and Anders exchanged a look and knew that they were thinking exactly the same thing. Magic.
"A good slaver is a dead one." Garret finally said. "Carver, go back home."
The sick and pale boy didn't say a word. His brother heavily suspected that if he was to open his mouth again, it would only spew more vomit. Carver was a soldier. Heart ripped out happened, because in war there was always Mabari involved... But humans didn't usually do that with a sneer on their face. Carver slowly walked away from the Alienage to the nearby shack their uncle, Gamlen Amell, was living in. Fenris looked at the rest of the band and without any more words, left the Alienage, his new allies in tow.
The mansion in Hightown looked like any other. Freedom didn't have any trouble keeping up with its strange master, even though it oddly stumbled a few times along the way. It looked like a kitten in an adult body, struggling to move its too long legs and sometimes gnawing at its too long tail.
Fenris sometimes looked down to her, looking worried. Did he care for the cat and her safety that much? What was she really?
The Elf opened the door, using his powers to break the lock from within and they entered the mansion. The cat jumped onto him again, this time she settled herself loosely and ready to pounce. Garrett somehow doubted she would do any real damage.
He was still holding Freedom's garish bag and didn't ask Fenris to take it back. He would guard it and stay away from the fight, casting spells from afar.
However, the hard fight that was promised didn't come. The mansion was haunted by spirits and demons, cobweb riddled and littered with broken furniture. It was clear that nobody was there for a very long time. Fenris growled in frustration and Freedom pounced in a chair sinking her claws into it. She seemed to have looked forward for something too. The death of their master? What had he done to the cat for it to seek revenge? Was it even a normal feeling for an animal?
"Gone." Fenris said.
His eyes were cast on the walls, as if he still hoped the magister that ruined his life was about to apparate out of thin air. Freedom was at his ankles soon again, rubbing her head on his legs, looking sad.
"I had hoped..."
But he didn't finish the sentence, he cursed instead.
"Every valuable item you may find in the house is yours. I... I need some air."
He then stalked out of the room. Freedom was about to follow him, but one hard gaze from the elf made her stop and she instead went to sit on her bag that Garrett had kept at his feet.
"Strange elf. Strange cat." Varric said.
"I have some suspicions" Anders whispered at Garret's ear. "Can we talk about it privately later? In my clinic, maybe?"
Garrett nodded and they promptly searched the mansion, finding coin and valuable items to sell in the markets. Freedom hadn't moved, but she let Anders take her in his arms and meowed with insistence until he was carrying her bag too.
Outside of the mansion, Fenris was waiting.
"It never ends. I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it waiting for me at every turn."
He didn't look nor at Garrett or Anders while rambling, but a scowl was etched on his delicate features, showing his disgust.
"It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul. And now I find myself in the company of more mages."
"You can speak to me directly, you know..." Garrett said, now wary of the strange elf.
"I saw you casting spells inside. I should have realised sooner what you really were."
He was struggling to keep a courteous voice, but it was not difficult to hear the scorn in his voice.
"Tell me then, what kind of mage are you? What is it you seek? Are you craving for power or is it something else?"
"My father, an apostate mage, made me swear on his deathbed that I would protect my family." Garrett answered, his mouth a straight line that made him look stern. "I'm doing whatever we need for us to survive."
Fenris looked at Anders, or more precisely, to Freedom. It let out a single wail that made Fenris' face melt. So this guy was a cat person, Garrett thought. How... Normal.
"I imagine I appear ungrateful. I apologise, for nothing could be further from the truth. Here. This is all the coin I have."
Fenris extended a hand holding a small pouch. Garrett took it and gave it a shake. He could feel Varric's smile come back on his face. This must have been all of his savings.
"I owe you a debt, though we did not find you find yourself in need of assistance. I would gladly render it."
"You did not seem that thrilled with us a moment ago." Anders said. "Now you're telling us you're willing to work with mages?"
"You are not Danarius. Wether you're anything like him remains to be seen. I will watch you carefully when we work together. I will promise no more."
Typical. Varric almost spat. However, he saw the cat pounce on a shade and the elf rip a man's heart from his own chest. That could make him shut his trap.
"Seems like a lot of trouble to get one escaped slave and a cat." Garrett said.
"As your astute friend noticed, Freedom is no ordinary cat. She is no cat at all. From what I could gather from her belongings, she was a human woman and her things don't seem to belong to this world. As for me, Danarius only wishes to recover the markings on my skin. They are lyrium. They provide the power Danarius required of his pet to flaunt it at his enemies' faces. Now he wishes his precious investments returned. Even if he must rip it from my corpse."
"Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf." Garrett said, deadpan.
Anders sighed, Varric sniggered and Fenris coughed. Freedom however hissed at the mage, looking furious.
"Seems like Freedom is quite possessive of you." Anders noticed. "That should shield you from Hawke's incessant flirting."
"I was only joking." Garrett protested.
"Well. Truthfully," Fenris interrupted, looking like he might blush. "I know nothing of the ritual Danarius used to graft these markings on me and the rumours surrounding Freedom's own ordeal sounded ridiculous. Some were even saying that she was Andraste Herself that came to take Danarius as Her new Holy Husband."
Anders snorted.
"Even Varric wouldn't dare make that up."
"Everytime I've wanted to do a smutty version of the Chant" said the dwarf "I imagined the reaction of the Divine in Val Royeaux. Two words. Exalted March."
"Well, maybe Anders can have a look at Freedom." Garrett said. "He's Circle trained, which mean he has the most academic knowledge of the three of us."
"Also, it would be a very bad idea to have Freedom and Merill make contact." Anders added. "If my theory is correct or any good, Freedom would be vulnerable to demons right now and Merill attracts them a honey jar draws flies."
"We'll make sure to introduce them only when she is is back to whatever shape is hers, then." Garrett sternly said.
Fenris was scowling.
"Where do you intend to stay, Fenris." Varric asked.
"Probably here. If Danarius wants to reclaim this mansion, he would pass through us." he said, a sneer contorting his delicate elven features.
"Then let's go to our own places and rest." Garrett concluded.
"Whenever you are ready, Freedom, you can come to my clinic in Darktown. Come with your master. All the cats in the neighbourhood were eaten by the poor beggars of the Undercity. You do not wish to become the night's mystery stew."
Freedom wailed softly, her ears and tail nervously wagging. She didn't seem to find the very dark joke funny. Fenris did, however, probably having eaten such mystery stews in his past. They bade each other good night and Fenris was left alone in Hightown in his new borrowed mansion.