Merrill was standing on her knees, her silhouette quavering from the wounded sounds her mouth was making.
"Why did you run? You shouldn't have run?" she lamented over the dead body of her once-was fellow clan member. Hawke silently walked over and laid a hand on her shoulder.
"There was nothing you could have done." She inhaled and stood up, her glistening eyes hardened.
"He was more afraid of me than the varterral. Like I was some kind of monster."
"You are a monster," said Fenris harshly. Merrill turned away her gaze, broken, while Hawke gave the warrior elf a stern look. Anders snapped.
"The girl just lost a friend and you tell her it was her fault? Can you not see past your hatred just once?"
"I say only the truth." Fenris looked him straight in the eyes, not an inch of sympathy in his own.
"Perhaps you should consider shutting it now and then?"
"Afraid I'll do the same to you? Still convinced you're any better than her?"
"Enough you two!" rapped Hawke at them. They merely glared at each other before following their leader out of the caves beneath Sundermount. Once back in Kirkwall, Hawke took the two aside and said to them: "If you cannot settle your differences today, I won't be having you with me on my travels. Is that understood?"
"Is this supposed to be some sort of reprimand?" asked Anders incredulously. "We're not children, you know."
"You certainly are acting like it. So, talk it out, or I won't deal with you two again." Giving them one last, hard look Hawke spun around and walked the stairs up to Hightown and his mansion. Fenris and Anders looked after him longingly, fearing the inevitable "talk" they would have to have. Fenris was the first to turn his eyes to the man he despised almost as much as his former master.
"Listen, mage, I don't like this any more than you do, but if it is what we have to do, then so be it. Spit it out. Give me your worst."
"How about you stop calling me that with disgust in your voice? And start seeing me and other mages as people? You know, with feelings, desires, families."
"Don't you give me that crap! You have been with Hawke as long as I have. You have seen the never ending stream of demon friendly mages: abominations and blood mages wherever we go. Even you and Merrill are guilty of it. How, with all this glaring evidence, am I supposed to look mildly upon your people?"
"What harm has Merrill ever done to you? What have I? Do you not remember the uncountable number of times I have saved you from certain death? Giving you strength in the middle of battle, hindering your foes before they get the chance to overwhelm you."
"And I sincerely regret it. If I had died it would have been nothing but the way of life. The strong survive, while the weak perish and are forgotten."
"The nerve of you! I give my everything out there and you would just throw it out the window if you could. A simple "thank you" would have sufficed."
"Do you suggest I thank my master for what he did to me? These markings have certainly been a blessing at times; they freed me, gave me a future. Yet they deprived me of my past, and now I am nothing but an empty shell, a blood thirsty warrior."
"Oh, poor Fenris, with his amnesia and painful past. Forget about the innumerable amount of children who are born into this world as prisoners, outcasts, constantly being told they are the spawn of Evil. Slaves, just like you. How can you not see that?"
"Slaves don't get possessed by demons."
"Instead they fuel blood magic to inflict pain on others. Is this a reason to care for them any less?"
"It is not the same."
" Oh, really? I would appreciate it if you could tell me why that is."
Fenris's hand, which had been glowing since the mention of his past, relaxed. He looked at something below his shoulder. Anders grabbed his arm and yanked him hard.
"Look at me when I am talking to you!" Instinctively, Fenris pulled free, wrestling his attacker to the ground. His whole body was lit up by the lyrium, but somehow it appeared to make him only more solid and helped him in holding the mage down.
"Let me go," hissed Anders, their nose tips only inches apart.
"Do. Not. Touch. Me." Fenris's eyes burned into Anders's, letting the message sink in. He got up, not checking to see if Anders did the same.
"What is it with you and the touching anyway? Is it that the tattoos hurt, or are you simply reliving old memories?" wondered Anders with a sour note. Fenris fought hard not to lose his temper again.
"How about I show you what they can make me do, or you shut the fuck up."
"Fine." Anders muttered bitter words under his breath as he raised himself off the ground.
"We are done here," established Fenris and walked away.
"Bloody elf."