Author's Note: Howdy folks! A fic I wrote while fangirling over Dragon Age with a friend! The background is F!Tabris, and alive. How? You'll find out! Please read and review

Little wolf, little wolf, is this the game you want to play?

No, he would not put it past Daranius to be in his head. He always wondered if that was why he couldn't remember: if his master was a Dreamwalker and reshaped his mind according to his whim...Or if he was just a regular figure of his nightmares, but no more. He was gone, and Fenris would be free this time.

But the city proved problematic to such an endeavor. It was easy enough to slip through walls, to move unseen among the teeming masses that filled the streets below the grand spires. It was easy to lurk inside the opulent halls of the magister lords...But it was not something he could do forever. Until he could find a way past the Juggernaut Golems that monitored the gates, until he could find a way past the magical barriers, he could not leave Minrathous. And he knew he would not be able to avoid Danarius within the city walls when the Magister returned...

Tonight he found himself within one of the grander homes, all gilded edges and billowing curtains and decaying columns. He thought perhaps he might find some artifact, some prized relic that could be his ticket out of here. He creeped along the corridor, laying flat against the wall as he approached a door way. It was a bright night: the moon shone down through the atrium and cast the entirety of the room in a cold light. The rest of the house was dark; nearly everyone was asleep, with one very important exception. A light remained in the master's room. He had hoped the mage was out - tonight was a popular night for secret blood rituals in the spires. Anything of worth would be in his room, but he knew killing a mage of such status could bring unwanted attention...it would complicate things.

The sound of laughter caught him off guard, and caused him to peek around the corner. The mage - a flabby excuse for a human - was reclining on the bed, but it was not his laugh he had heard. No, that was from the Senator's companion. His eyes narrowed into thin slits, and it was hard to keep a growl back from deep in his throat. It was an elven woman, and she was clad in scraps of red silk. He had seen these types in his master's - in his former master's home. It was a mark of pride to sire a child on an elvish woman; the offspring were thought to have greater chance of magical abilities, and the women were well paid...If the child had no magical ability, then its blood would at the least have greater potency in some sordid ritual. It made him sick to his stomach. He waited until he was sure that both occupants were thoroughly involved with each other before he phased through a wall and behind a curtain. Perhaps the woman would prove sufficient distraction for what he needed to do, at least

She was dancing in front of the man, peeling away the red sash tied around her hips. The man's eyes were locked on her form, on the smooth expanse of skin slowly exposed by her strip tease. Fenris crept behind the draperies, inching ever closer to the ornate chest in the corner.

"Come here, pretty!" He heard the mage say, saw him reach out for the elf from the corner of his eye. Fenris did not care to see what would happen, what he had seen countless nights, standing guard at his master's bed. He heard the woman giggle, and heard her move towards the man draped of the bed. "Pretty, is it?" She purred, climbing to the edge of the bed, "I prefer ravishing..."

Fenris was going to be sick.

"Ravishing? I'll show you ravishing, pretty, witty elf." The woman was advancing on the man, was straddling his hips as she began to untie the knot of fabric behind her neck, arching her back and jutting her breasts out. The fat man greedily filled his palms with them, fascinated by her movements, the slow rolling of her hips against him, separated by the sheets. "Do you like this, Senator?" Fenris paused, looked over his shoulder. There was an edge to the woman's voice. He shrugged it off, turned away as nothing changed.

Again she spoke to the man beneath her, who was moaning and nodding his answers to her questions, "Yes, that's right. You enjoy this, don't you?" Something nagged at Fenris. There was something there - he looked over his shoulder, peered over at the couple. It was...taking her an extremely long time to disrobe completely.

"So good..." She crooned, "So good, isn't it?" The fabric was finally loosened, but her hands remained behind her back. The human beneath her grinned, and Fenris inched toward the curtain that separated him from the pair on the bed. There was violence coming, he could feel it in the air...

"Did it feel so good when you killed Valora?" There was a flash of steel, a gurgling sound as a stiletto found the center of the mage's throat. Blood seemed to erupt, splashing all over the pale skin of the elf. "I heard what you did..." All pretense of seduction was gone. Part of Fenris was shocked as he watched what was happening.

"She was a good woman, you know. She was my family. We survived unspeakable things, and she did not deserve her fate at your hands." The man beneath her could only look at her in shock as the life ebbed from him. He could not speak, could not conjure any defense with his lifeblood seeping into the sheets beneath him. Fenris found his revulsion had turned to admiration. It was bold. Suicidal, to kill a Senator in the middle of the Capital of the Tevinter Empire, but bold.

Did he say something, did he make a sound? All of a sudden she stiffened, head shooting towards his direction. "Who's there?" The woman crawled off the dead man, naked and covered in his blood. The knife still flashed in her hand. There was nothing in the chest of value, so Fenris backed away, phased through the wall and back into the atrium, away from the woman. This was not his business...But if she had managed to infiltrate this place, maybe if he followed her -

She ran out, hastily redressed in the bit of silk she arrived in, a cloak draped over her arm. But she did not make towards the exit - she moved to the kitchen, more so. There a key in her hand, no doubt taken from the cooling corpse of the man in the bedroom - what would she need it for in a kitchen? He stalked after the person that might be the key to his way out of the city.

There was a figure slumped in a chair by the fire. The woman knelt by his side, sliding the key into the shackles that bound him there. "Valendrian? Wake up. It's me - It's Cyrion's daughter. I've come to take you out of this place, to take you home."

Home? Where was home for these elves? He lingered around the doorway, watching. The figure in the chair was slow to respond; the elf was old, and weak, but it was not just his age that made him so. There were marks on his flesh, lacerations on his hands, his cheeks. He had been used as more than a kitchen slave. None held under the control of the Tevinter mages could escape their penchant for casual blood magic. The woman tried to lift him up, tried to throw his arm around her shoulder - (had Fenris been careless again? Had his curiosity caused him to be careless? Because her voice rang out in the room again, directed towards the doorway where he tried to hide.

"Whoever you are that follows us, reveal yourself-" She set the old man down, holding the blade in front of her and placing her foot back, ready to strike. "If you are friend, you can come with us."

It was an unexpected promise, but it was more than he could have hoped for. He emerged from the darkness, approaching the woman with his hands out. He saw her eyes widen at his appearance, at the faint glow of the lines of lyrium beneath his flesh, but she said nothing. He spoke this time, "Get me out of the city, and I will help you in what way I can." Supplication was not something he gave willingly, but there was a chance here that had not existed just a few moments before. He hoped the roughness of his voice did not hide the sincerity. She seemed to believe him, gesturing to the old elf behind her. "Help me with him. There is a place." The knife lowered, "We leave none of our kin behind, whatever the cost."

Three figures left that villa in the dead of night. Their faces were obscured by dark and heavy cloaks. One leaned against the other as the smaller figure led on. Inwardly, Fenris grimaced at walking so openly in the streets of the city, grimaced as he felt the old man's weight against him...But there was something in his heart that had not been there before:

Hope.