"Why did you bring me here, Hawke?" Fenris asked, arms crossed.

"So you can learn to not hate mages, or something," she replied.

"Can't teach an old dog new tricks," Anders chortled. He found the whole thing very amusing. Fenris was incredibly uncomfortable, and Anders felt right at home. It was perfect.

"I can learn not to hate mages in a different way. I don't want to go to a 'Plight of the Mages' rally." He looked around the room, frustrated and trapped. He stood in a well decorated mansion, Varric's on loan, and was surrounded by mages and mage supporters. Some were showing off the magic tricks and some were flirting. No one looked as out of place as him.

"Come on, it will be fun!" Anders teased.

Fenris swore under his breath, while Anders and Hawke led the brooding elf into the common room. He stuck to Hawke's side as much as possible. He didn't like being clingy, especially now that she was with the filthy abomination, but he hated this. He hated mages because of his former master. Danarius had given him a good idea of what mages could do.

Anders ran off, to go see some friends, and left Hawke and Fenris alone.

"So how did all these apostates get here?" Apostates came out like a foul swear.

Hawke chose to ignore it. "They escaped from circles all over the world. Some of them were saved by their parents, and allowed run away before the Templars could come for them."

"Some of these mages are untrained?" he asked, incredulously.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Yes, some of these images are untrained. You know I never went to a circle, right?"

"You are different."

The conversation halted their, and she looked away awkwardly. She shouldn't feel bad; he had left her, but she still pined for him on occasion. She assumed it would fade, since Anders was so much better than her. What was she thinking, dating a mage hater, anyway?

"I think I will join Anders," she murmured, and she slid away from him.

He felt out of place, and slunk to a corner, to hide from the excitement. He could not be confrontational here (like he wanted to be), he would lose.

He was scanning the room, back and forth, looking for danger, when he saw her. She was a beautiful elf, with long raven hair, and startling grey eyes. She was talking with someone passionately, gesticulating and laughing. Her smile lit him up, and he knew he had to meet her. But how? There was no way he could introduce himself, "Hello, my name's Fenris, I hate mages. How are you?"

And there was Hawke. He knew she would never take him back, and he didn't want her to, but he loved her still, as much as he hated loving a mage. He shook his head, this is disgusting. He is not a man of romance and pining, he is a man with a purpose and a hatred. He had no time for mage supporters, or worse, another mage.

Someone called attention to the room, and everyone silenced. A lead apostate started to make a speech, thanking Varric (who didn't have to come) for the mansion, and thanking everyone for coming. He started on 'free and equal for all,' and Fenris was done. He snuck out onto the balcony and looked out into the night.

"Bored?" an accented voice asked.

He turned and saw the woman from before. Up close, she was more enthralling, and he felt a draw to her he couldn't explain. "Yes, I hate speeches."

"Me too. It is ridiculous to tell a group of mages who all want to be free and equal how we should all be free and equal."

"I agree." He didn't want to go into what he thought about mages, so he stopped there.

"Who did you come with?" she asked.

"Oh, Hawke and… Anders."

"Ah, the famous mage rights couple. I'm Elysia, by the way. And you are?" She held out her hand, expectantly.

"Fenris." He took it, and her skin was warm and sent sparks through him. It shocked him, and he let go quickly. The feeling was surprising, but not unpleasant.

"Oh, I have heard of you too. You are against mage rights." Her smile cooled.

He could think of no reasons to explain that sounded logical, besides his whole life story. "I have my reasons."

"I'm sure you do."

"I do! All mages I have met have turned to blood magic or become abominations, save one! I have no reason to trust them," he growled.

She was not phased. "Mages can become evil, but so can others. No one blames warriors or rogues as a group for one killer. Mages are hated because they are feared. They are controlled because people want to feel safe."

"People have a good right to fear mages. Magic can destroy people."

"Yes, it can. So can swords. So can arrows. So can fists. So can ANY weapon. The only difference is a mage is born with it, and has no choice."

"It is terrible that they can't choose, but I still think they should be locked up where they belong." This night, combined with this woman's pestering, had left him fuming.

"Maybe you believe that because you don't want to be emasculated by their power, again."

His fury broke, and he lunged at this woman, sword out, pointed directly at her neck. "You think I can't kill mages? You think I am 'emasculated' by them? I have no fear for mages, not anymore."

Her eyes lit up with a light he could not identify, and his sword wavered. "Are you sure about that?" she asked. The gust of wind was unexpected, and it pushed him back several feet. It didn't hurt, but he was disoriented by it. He looked up to see her walking back into the party.

"Come back here!" he snarled.

She turned and faced him. "I don't want to fight you. Neither ending will be a happy one, and even the middle options will leave us bitter. Let us just take our leave."

"No, you attacked me, I want to fight it out. I need to show you how you are wrong."

She rolled her eyes, but decided add that he had in fact lunged at her."Fine," she pulled out her staff, "after you."

He came at her fast, sword high. At the last minute, he ducked and swung low. She didn't expect that, and he hit her right in the hip. She grimaced, "Nice one."

He started swinging at her, again, but this time she parried every strike with her staff. Another small blast of wind pushed him away, but he wasn't disoriented this time, and came at her again. She centered herself and sent a lightning bolt at him, and that's when it all changed.

She pulled on her magic to send the bolt, and he started to glow, the lyrium in his skin working to help. The lyrium tattoos sang all over his body, giving him a pleasant feeling he couldn't describe. The magic caressed every scar, like the kiss of warm rain, and floated away toward her. While she was aiming, she felt the sudden swell of magic, and got distracting. She missed him, narrowly. Then, they just stood there, shocked.

"What did you do, apostate?" he growled, stunned. He couldn't admit how great that had felt, how right, because it was wrong. There was a connection here, he had felt it in the party, but he could never work with a mage.

She was as shocked as he was, "I have no idea. I didn't do it on purpose!"

"Sure you didn't, abomination," he spat, then turned on heel and stormed out of the party.

"Prick," she mumbled, and walked back inside.

Their encounter did not turn many heads, but Hawke saw Fenris leave in a huff, so she rushed over. "What happened?"

"Oh nothing, the mage hater just got a little frustrated and stormed off," Elysia replied.

"What happened, though?" Hawke pressed.

"We started arguing, we got in a fight, something weird happened, he couldn't handle it, he stormed off."

"Ah, that makes sense. Are you alright, you're bleeding!"

"Oh, right." Elysia conjured a small healing spell and fixed the wound as Anders joined them.

"What did Fenris pull now? Did he attack a guest?" he asked, scornfully.

"Apparently," Hawke answered, "she's alright though."

"Well that's good, what's your name? I'm Anders, and this is Hawke."

"I'm Elysia, and it is nice to meet you in person. I have heard all about what you have done for the movement, and I am very grateful. When I escaped from the circle in Nevarra, I was worried I would never find home again, but here it is. Kirkwall of all places."

"We are glad to help," Hawke said.

Elysia smiled in return, and went back to the thick of the rally. She spoke with other mages and mage supporters for a while, but something nagged at her, tugging at the back of her brain. Where had that magic come from? He was no mage, so how did he give her magic? And how would she begin to find out? He wouldn't tell her, unless…

She walked over to Hawke and Anders. "Do you mind if I talk to him?"

"To Fenris? Why would want to?" Anders asked.

"I have my reasons."

"Well, if you want to, I can't stop you, but I would advise against it," Hawke cautioned.

"Thanks." Elysia turned and headed out the front door.

She found Fenris pacing and mumbling to himself in Tevene. "Fenris?"

"What?" he growled. He looked like a trapped wolf, pacing and ready to attack.

"I realized something. I didn't ask why you hate mages. It seems like you have a reason, as opposed to just petty fear. I was just curious what that reason was."

"Maker's breath! Why don't you just let it be?"

"Because I want to know, and I am probably the only person you ever will meet who does."

"I am not going to just tell you my life story."

"I don't expect a life story, I just want a name, and who they were to you. But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Fenris stops pacing, facing away from her. After a moment of silence, he says, "Danarius. He was my master. He was a mage, a terrible one, who used blood magic. There, now let me be?"

"If you like," she pauses, "Listen, I live in Lowtown, in the alienage. If you want to talk, or just brood near someone, I tend to be there. And I don't bite."

He didn't reply, and she went back inside.

Hawke strode over to her, and asked, "So what happened? Why did you go talk to him?"

"Because I realized his fear comes from pain, and I need to know him better to ask him some questions. By the way, do you know what those markings are?"

"They are lyrium, burned into his skin."

"I see. Interesting."