Hi!

I spent few days back in Thedas this summer, and it occured to me that I had never (ever) written any fic for Dragon Age in my life. It was the highest time to change that!

Story is mainly based on the DAII (and sometimes DAO), but I let my writer's imagination do its work, so:

-the dialogues might be longer and/or changed

-there might be some differences in the official chronology (though I'm not sure - it may depend exclusively on how you have played it)

-I changed some missions, because of the story plots - mostly added more details, which weren't in the game, to make it more interesting and lively (let me be honest, I'm a big fan of DAO, and what they did to its sequel was a...huge disappointment, to be polite)

Of course, the world and its habitants don't belong to me. :)

Enjoy

The evening has come and passed. The bottle is almost empty yet Fenris knows his problems are not gone. A former slave living as a free man in a Hightown residency. And all that thanks to the mage, who decided to help. Oh, sweet irony. He should have killed her right away, that first night they met, instead of showing gratitude. There's no gratitude or mercy for any mage walking this earth free. Now he knows that. Only it is much too late.

Not many people really know Hawke. They know a refugee girl who fled her country in fear of the Blight. Righteous, just, always willing to help and defend those, who can't do that themselves.

Few can tell what she is like in the battlefield though, or rather - few who witnessed it survived.

Fenris had seen it countless times.

Their first fight together, as team - he remembers it all too well. It was getting hot. The lyrium on his skin was burning him as if to the bones. Surrounded and separated from the rest - no arrows, no magic. Fenris prepared for the worst silently cursing those indolent 'friends' letting him die in some shithole before even getting close to Danarius when he heard loud explosion and realised he's all covered in hot blood of his opponents.

At first he didn't recognise her - she was so different from the usual caring Hawke he knew. The smile was gone and the grey eyes were burning with a strange power.

'Quickly. The victim is in danger.'

He ran after her watching spells massacre enemies on their way, leaving unrecognizable pieces of meat scattered around. And when there was no one left to fight he saw her approaching rescued woman.

'Shhh... It's alright.' The ruthless apostate was gone. 'You're safe now.' Calm and gentle Ferelden girl was there again.

Eventually he got used to it. They were an uncommon group of individuals after all. A beardless dwarf - pathological liar and excellent cards player - with his crossbow wife. An apostate healer bound to a spirit of justice with his soul, which explained his uncontrollable rage outbursts but not his peculiar fondness of cats. A female pirate captain without her ship but with selection of deadly knives and lots of dirty jokes. A widowed warrior, remarried to her job and steel of her sword - occasionally turning a blind eye on the team's behaviour and joining them in fight. And finally, escaped ex-slave with lyrium tattooed all over his skin and no memory of former life.

So he guessed Hawke wasn't so special after all. She just did what she was asked or paid for. Not that it always went according to Fenris's plans. Helping mages was in her blood and they were arguing about it on every possible occasion. Or rather he was making angry comments while she tried to defend her brothers and sisters. But it was a certain kind of routine like Varric's jokes with 'Blondie'. There aren't many things that bring people together more than an expedition to the Deep Roads or countless nights spend together at the Hanged Man. Though Fenris would never admit it out loud, he grew attached to all of them a little.

And then the simple serenity of that life suddenly disappeared.

He didn't know if it was because of that cursed daelish elf or he just haven't noticed it before. But the first time he saw it he was terrified.

He stood right beside Hawke trying to protect the rest of the group from hordes of animated corpses. Their archers were bloody good as for a pile of bones and rotten skin but nothing he couldn't handle. Bianca did her job and mages duo successfully cleaned whatever was left. It was easy, too easy somehow. They should have known corpses don't just wander around on their own. The sudden explosion of force pushed them against the wall. The ground opened and a demon of pride arrived accompanied by several burning wrath demons.

Fenris quickly evaluated the situation: few broken ribs and deeper cuts but nothing deadly. Varric was already standing - few things could actually eliminate dwarf this tough from a battle. The problem was Anders lying unconsciously on the ground. Their only healer wasn't going to be much of a help for some time. He turned around to check up on Hawke and that's when he recognized it. The red glow around her body - he wished he was wrong but he had seen it countless times during his life in Tevinter. She was leaning against her staff, painting heavily. Her usual rock armour was gone - she must have used all of her powers to help her remain in standing position. So now there was only one thing she could resort to. Blood magic.

Cold shivers run down his spine, droplets of sweat showed on his forehead. The first day of his new life flashed before his eyes: coldness of his naked body, fear, disorientation, pain - unimaginable amounts of pain - and his master's eyes glowing red with blood power.

'Let's do it.' Hawke slowly raised her head and Fenris realised her eyes had the same colour.

His fear was immediately replaced by anger. The next few minutes were blurred. His moves were subconscious, driven by sheer rage he felt. He cut demons as if they were Hawke - as if he could have ripped her apart. He accepted her apostate status - even if it meant going against his rules - he joined her, they became companions. For Andrasta's sake, he even flirted with her! Another bitter disappointment. But he wouldn't let anyone hurt him again. So as the last demon's fell down slain he immediately turned to Hawke. The red glow around her was slowly fading as was her magic power presumably - she could no longer stay straight and fell helplessly to her knees. That didn't stop Fenris from coming at her.

'You-' He growled. 'You filth-' There were no words at the moment that could have reflected his contempt.

Hawke didn't respond. The wound on her head was bleeding heavily, her robes were destroyed and her hands - they were red with blood she sold to the ancient demons.

'Was the gift you were born with not enough for you? Was it your pride? Or more like greed?' Fenris was merciless. 'You're no different than all the magisters I know, so you deserve the same fate. Welcome the inevitable-' He raised his enormous sword ready to strike a final blow when an arrow hit the steel knocking it out of his hands.

'Watch it, Fenris.' Varric came out of the shadows, dragging half-conscious Anders with him. 'Hawke just helped us win this fight. Consider yourself lucky Blondie is no condition to understand what's going on. He wouldn't be as forgiving as I am.'

A muffled snarl escaped Fenris' mouth but he knew his chance was gone. He turned his back on the rest and headed home.

'Go home. Sleep it over.' Varric's voice stopped him once again. 'In the morning you'll know what to do.'

Still, the sleep resolved nothing. It only brought doubt, as did the next few days he spent in quiet and darkness of his mansion. The memories weakened his will. Killing Hawke was no longer an obvious solution. The wine on the other hand seemed like a good way of escaping it all.

But the problems are still there and his head aches badly. He can't get the image of Hawke out it. Bleeding and powerless, kneeling on the ground - she doesn't remind him of proud Danarius or cruel Hadriana. It doesn't change the fact that she's a maleficari, though, and even if she does control her powers and uses them to protect, it can always change. Mages are only people, with all their weakness and sins. He wouldn't watch Hawke turn in one of the ruthless magisters. He couldn't.

The empty bottles stand beside him and through the window he can hear the first morning birds starting their songs. The headache is gone and he understands. Apparently years spent in Kirkwall made him attached to his companions more than he thought.

Thanks for reading! Revievs and comments highly appreciated! :)