A Bitter Pill Chapter 1, a dragon age fanfic

A/N: I was playing 'A Bitter Pill' (on my fourth playthrough- and last :( Dad is taking it off me since I'm driving Mum mad with it when I'm finished this one. I have been told I can move on to Mass Effect next, which softens the blow somewhat) and suddenly wondered what would happen if Hadriana did succeed in recapturing Fenris, and then of course my Fenris Fangirl brain wondered what would happen if Hawke was taken too (This Fenris Fangirl was absolutely horrified when you have the choice to hand Fenris over to Danarius in 'Alone' and has plans to get back at Bioware for that)…

Yes, I do know I've murdered the 'Questioning Beliefs' quests to mangle conversations that happened after 'A Bitter Pill' was completed into the fic. Don't shoot me.

Re the name? I couldn't think of one so I cheated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age.

A Bitter Pill

It was the fire traps, she reckoned, that did her in. She'd faced the undead before without any problems, and slavers were a piece of cake.

So it must have been the fire traps.

She was in bad way when they limped into the room, and found Hadriana. At least, by the feral way Fenris shouted and launched himself across the room at the woman, she guessed that it was Hadriana. She was too busy fighting slavers and trying not to pass out to check if she wore a name badge.

Her head was swimming. Her muscles were leaden. Her robes were burned, and her skin underneath them. She could barely maintain her grasp on her staff, let alone summon the energy to cast spells. She was in a corner, weakly trying (and failing) to fend three off at once, when Varric saw her predicament.

"Hawke!" he shouted in sudden panic and three crossbow bolts flew through the air, each finding its target. The slavers thudded to the floor. She made to thank him, but it took too much effort to raise her hand in acknowledgement, and her voice was barely a croak.

She sank against the floor and felt darkness pulsing around her. The world swam. Vaguely she saw someone approach her and felt for her staff, but her grasping fingers found nothing. She blinked, and felt reality slipping away from her. She struggled to open her eyes, but she couldn't. Her eyelids were too heavy.

The world slipped away from her.

When she woke up, the ground was jolting beneath her. Her head hurt. She was momentarily confused, before she realised that her companions must have told Hubert to get a wagon up here to get her back. It wouldn't be the first time.

Anders would be furious with her. The thought made her smile. He was handsome when he was angry. Not that he wasn't handsome when he wasn't angry- happy never seemed to suit him- he was just particularly handsome when he was.

"Hawke," an urgent voice said, and someone shook her. Bare hands. Calloused hands. They felt like Carver's hands. She was confused. Her brother couldn't be here. He couldn't visit her. He was in Ferelden, or something, with the Wardens, doing… Warden things.

"Hawke," the voice repeated, more urgently, and the shaking increased. She opened her eyes and white hair swam before her eyes.

"Fenris?" she asked groggily, trying to sit up and managing about half an inch above the ground. "Why aren't you wearing your gauntlets?"

He pushed her back down.

"Don't try to move," he said. He sounded worried. She tried to fight him, to sit and look around, but didn't have the strength.

"Hadriana healed you," she could hear the disgust in his tone as he spoke, and something else. She couldn't identify it. "But only enough that you survived."

"Had- she isn't dead?" she asked, frowning. "But…"

Fenris' expression cut her short. He looked desperate, defiant and… afraid? What was he afraid of? Fenris wasn't afraid of anything. Except…

"Oh, shit," she said.

"Appropriate choice of words, Mercy Hawke," an unfamiliar voice said from behind her. Fenris stiffened, placing himself in front of her.

"Now now, Fenris," the woman chided, "You aren't thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?" He stood ramrod straight, looked at Mercy, then…

"No," he growled.

"Oh, good. I'd hate to harm such a pretty specimen."

And Mercy had just enough time to think that doesn't sound good before she passed out again.

She woke with a pounding headache. Groaning, she made to push herself up, but found her hands were bound behind her back. She frowned and tried to remember what had happened.

"Fenris?" she called. "Merrill? Varric?"

"Just me," Fenris said wearily on the other side of the wagon. He was sitting against the wall, paler than usual, hands clasped, shaking, and looking mighty unhappy (but what else was new, really), unbound. He looked to be in a bad way. "They let the others go."

This was evidently supposed to be good, but her head hurt too much for her to process why.

"What happened?" she asked. The last thing she remembered was seeing Fenris charge across the room with a bestial cry of rage.

"Hadriana… you collapsed. The others tried to help, but…" the elf heaved a deep sigh. "She had you and we couldn't fight anymore."

There were so many questions, but she settled for the most pressing.

"Fenris?" she asked, concerned. "Are you alright?"

He considered the question for a long time.

"I'm fine," he finally replied. A merry laugh from behind her made her snap her head around, making to reach for a staff that was no longer on her. Her tied hands unbalanced her and she fell onto her side. Fenris rushed to her and helped her up.

"Thanks," she murmured, flushing with embarrassment as the laughter continued and the woman finally came into her sight. "Hadriana, I presume?" she asked with as much dignity as she could muster while leaning against the wall of a wagon to stay upright.

"Ah, so Fenris has spoken of me!" the magister exclaimed in delight.

"Not until you showed your ugly face," Mercy retorted. Fenris found himself wincing. Sure enough, Hadriana's response was lightning fast and sent her reeling.

She blinked twice at the metallic tang of blood in her mouth and the pain searing across her cheek. The woman had a surprisingly strong slap for someone so finely built. She worked her jaw for a moment until she managed to get her tongue working.

"That tickled," she managed. Hadriana laughed delightedly.

"Oh, you will be fun," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly. A sense of foreboding started somewhere in the pit of Mercy's stomach and when she looked at Fenris, she could see that he felt it too.

"Why are you unbound?" Mercy asked Fenris some hours later. He looked at her, eyes soft yet bitter at the same time.

Because they have a better leash to keep me on, he thought. That look was all the answer she needed. They were using her to control him.

Well, that settled it. She had to get her hands free, and make her blighted head stop spinning every time she moved. She wasn't sure how to accomplish either goal, but she was a Hawke. She would find a way.

After she slept, though. Surely she would be able to think better after she slept, she thought sleepily as her eyes drifted shut.

The floor was moving under her again when she woke, but it was a different kind of movement. Not the harsh jolting of a wagon but a gentle rocking. She heard water lapping against wood and realised she was on a ship now.

She remembered the last time she had been on a ship. She'd spent most of the two weeks curled up in a corner trying not to throw up while Carver laughed at her. Blessed Andraste, why didn't he get seasick too so that he would be too preoccupied throwing up to embarrass her?

She didn't see Fenris and panicked. She rose quickly- too quickly, her head spun and she had to put a hand against the hold to brace herself- and waited for a moment for her balance to return, only vaguely aware her hands were now unbound.

"Fenris?" she called. The elf emerged from a dark corner and regarded her unsteady pose, and the hand that remained firmly against the wall.

"You're up," he said.

"In a manner of speaking," she replied. "Don't let me eat anything. I'll just throw it up everywhere if I do." Her humour was forced, her smile strained.

"I doubt you need to worry about that." His tone was dry and his voice cracked. He sounded as if he'd not drunk anything in a long time.

She suddenly became aware that she was parched, and her stomach grumbled loudly. She'd left Kirkwall before lunch, expecting their routine dispatch-the-bandits-and-return-before-sundown mission, when they'd encountered the slavers and their plans had changed.

Who knew how long it had been since then?

She slid down the wall and, looking concerned, Fenris sat beside her. He wrapped a steadying arm around her and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. She looked surprisingly vulnerable without her robes and staff. Her robes had been too burned to save and she had been put in a tatty shift instead, and as for her staff? What captor gives his captives weapons?

Though he knew that the staff was only a focus for magic- he'd seen her conjure fire from the sky without it before, and she never used it to heal. He wondered what else she could do without a staff.

"Fenris…" he'd heard that tone, vulnerable and scared, only once before, when she had admitted that she was claustrophobic- right before they entered the Deep Roads. He'd stared at her in incredulity.

"And you volunteered for this?" he'd asked, gesturing at the rocky tunnel they were going to descend into. She had shrugged stiffly, shoulders not as relaxed as she'd tried to make them, jaw set.

"I have no other choice."

"Fenris, what is going to happen to us?" she asked, voice very small and timid. It shook slightly. He sighed.

"I will be returned to Danarius, and you will likely be sold, unless he takes a fancy to you too and decides to keep you."

Maker preserve him if he hurts her, I will kill him. The thought surprised him with its fierceness, and he found that he almost wanted Danarius to keep her. He didn't want her to be alone in Tevinter. He wanted her close so he could protect her.

She pressed closer to him, and tears were glittering under the surface of her green eyes. She didn't need to say she was afraid. He knew. Just as she knew that he was afraid under his stoic face, and steady eyes. She could see the act he was putting on for her.

She almost wished he wouldn't.

They were fed fairly well, much to Mercy's surprise. She supposed Fenris was a valuable slave, and he insisted on sharing his much larger fare with her. She (or rather, her growling stomach) hadn't the heart to refuse him. So instead of dry retching in a corner, she threw up half Fenris' meal.

She wasn't sure enough food was getting to her stomach to keep her going before she threw it up.

She also wondered if it would be a bad thing if she died on the journey. Fenris had once told her that she had never known what it was to be a slave, and she had seen in his eyes that he didn't want her to find out.

She knew how Tevinter valued magic, and the thought of what would happen to her made her shudder.

Tears threatened to escape her. Mother would never know what had happened to her. The thought of letting Mother down sent chills down her spine. She had promised Carver she would take care of her.

Though soon, she was sure, that would be the least of her worries.

They spent a long time in that hold, alone. No guards were posted- where did they have to run to, after all? They were sure they were been watched, however.

For the first time, she let her tears fall, and admitted her fears to Fenris through strangled sobs and quick breaths, and he held her and let her cry. Their time in the hold, with only one another for company and comfort, made him more determined than ever not to let Danarius get his claws into her.

He did not want that monster to twist this gentle soul as he had twisted himself. He would not let it happen.

Danarius was waiting at the docks for them, with a contingent of soldiers. His delight on seeing his 'little wolf' was clear, but he was even happier to see Hawke. Not because he knew her, but because of the way that Fenris placed himself before her protectively.

The vulture smelled an opportunity here.

"Who is this, Hadriana?" he asked, looking her up and down.

"A mage, Master," Hadriana replied. "Mercy Hawke. She is skilled. I caught her protecting the slave."

Danarius' smile broadened.

"Indeed?" he asked. "So my little wolf has found a new mistress, then?" Mercy's head shot up, eyes narrowed with fury. She made to take a step forward, but stumbled, unused to solid ground beneath her feet. Fenris steadied her and she shot him a grateful smile.

"Fenris is no slave," she said, her voice was a weak croak. She'd taken to not eating the last days of the journey, because she was sick of vomiting and not getting any more energy from eating, since she threw it all up anyway.

"I think you'll find he is, little falcon," the magister said, amused. "And I think I'll keep you too."

"No!" Fenris exclaimed, anger and fear in his voice. Danarius chuckled.

"Ah, my pet, so predictable," he crooned. Unspeakable fury filled him, and he took a step forward, markings flaring into life, until Hadriana spoke behind him.

"Fenris," she sang, and he would have ignored her if he hadn't heard Mercy's pained grunt. He spun around at that, to find Hadriana twisting her arm tightly behind her back, and Mercy's eyes wide with pain.

Abruptly he stopped.

"Oh, yes, I am definitely keeping you," Danarius said, stroking Mercy's cheek as Hadriana released her wrist and she sagged slightly against the woman, panting. "I might even let dear Fenris remember you."

It wasn't long before they figured out that their new control rod for Fenris went the other way too. She was still uncomfortable on dry land, but prepared to seize any chance to escape. She glanced at Fenris, who caught her eye, then turned away from him. He followed her gaze to the harbour edge.

She was planning on jumping in? They'd either succeed in escaping, or drown. Either way, they'd be free.

Worked for him.

Without giving any sign he knew her plan, he turned away again. But she had known him for four years now, and knew that he'd seen and understood her meaning. She was glad that she was still wobbly on her feet now. They'd not think much about her stumbling.

She took a deliberate step towards the edge and made as if she had stumbled, but as one of the soldiers came over to pick her up (again) she bolted.

She was nearly at the harbour edge when Danarius spoke calmly.

"I wouldn't," he advised, and she spun on her heel, the ground giving out under her as she did. She fell onto her hands and knees, but could now see that Danarius had Fenris firmly in his grasp.

She knew that Fenris could theoretically tear the man's heart out where he stood, but also knew that if he did the soldiers would be on them in a heartbeat, and she was in no shape to fight.

Then there was Hadriana to contend with.

Heart heavy, she struggled to her feet. The soldier yanked her up and dragged her over to Danarius by the collar. Her reward was a sharp slap- Maker, the man slapped harder than Hadriana (she'd been on the receiving end of a few of Hadriana's slaps for her 'impudence', so knew what she was talking about) that sent her reeling back into the soldier's arms and the by now familiar metallic tang of blood on her tongue.

"Try that again, and you won't like the consequences," Danarius advised her.

"You won't kill him," she managed after a moment. "You wouldn't have hunted him this long if he was disposable." Fenris felt a smile tug at his lips, but held it back.

"He isn't," Danarius shrugged. "But I wasn't referring to killing him." His words held an aura of menace, and she suddenly knew that she did not want to make the man carry out whatever he had planned. With a glare at the soldier, she followed the magister as he set off again.

For a moment, the pain was all she was aware of, was the centre of her entire world.

Slowly she blinked, and a room took shape around her as it receded, with the dream-like quality of the Fade. Confused, she pushed herself up and saw that she was knew the room- it was the room she had shared with Bethany in Lothering.

Huh?

Someone else was in the house. She could hear footsteps outside the door. She cautiously opened it, and there was Father. He turned and smiled at her warmly.

"Good morning, sweetie," he said. "Sleep well?" She could only stare astounded at him, reaching out hesitantly to touch his hand.

"Father?" she asked, and Malcolm Hawke grasped her hand.

"That was quite a nightmare you were having, little falcon," he crooned, and the address set off alarm bells in her head. Father had never called her that. In fact, she'd only been called 'little falcon' once, and that was not too long ago, by…

She suddenly snatched her hand away.

"Get out of my head, Danarius," she snarled, summoning all her energy to break the illusion. It shattered around her, leaving her in the dark place of sleep when no dreams were filling it. Exhausted by the effort it had taken, she sank to what must have been the floor.

Danarius laughed somewhere.

"Smart little falcon," he said. She raised her head through an act of supreme will to search for him, but couldn't see him.

"Show yourself," she demanded.

Fenris appeared before her, and her eyes widened before she reminded herself that this was a trick and none of it was real. After all, not a moment ago she had been in her childhood home with her dead father.

She did her best to ignore the illusion of Fenris, which stepped closer to her and wrapped his- it's- arms around her. His- it's- rough, calloused touch was very distracting, and she didn't have the energy to break it.

"Stop it, Danarius! Face me yourself!" she said again, but her voice was strained.

"If you insist," the man sighed, and the illusion of Fenris vanished as he stepped into view.

She had no doubt she was a pitiful sight, lying on the 'ground', visibly straining to keep her neck held high, but she made a good show of it.

"I will not submit to you," she growled, just before her energy gave out. There was no floor for her head to hit, though. It was a most curious situation.

"Not willingly," Danarius said with a wide smile.

Her next surroundings were unfamiliar and had the harsh lines of reality, and if Danarius was trying to trick her again, he'd surely try something else from her memory- her mansion or Gamlen's house.

No, not Gamlen's house, not unless he was crazy. If he could see her memories, he could surely know what she felt too. The thought terrified her. She was laid bare before this man. Her house of cards would collapse. She'd gone to so much trouble to cover just how much she blamed herself for Carver, for Bethany, for Father. So much trouble to pretend she was fine.

She was not going to let a slaver bring that toppling about her head.

She looked around. She was alone, and the door was ajar. She eased herself up, and was glad when she found the floor had stopped rolling beneath her and she could walk without clutching at walls. A tray of food was near her, with a pitcher of water, and she was ravenous.

She pulled it close and practically inhaled it.

Danarius was watching her when she looked up. She wondered how long he'd been there, but found it didn't really matter. Her stomach was no longer contracting in pain from being hungry.

"Can you cook?" he asked, and she almost laughed at the absurd idea. If Carver were here, he'd testify as to how bad her cooking was. He seemed to take her expression as an answer.

"Clean?"

"I wasn't always employing servants, you know," she said. "I can take care of myself." Danarius seemed genuinely pleased.

"Good to know. I could use you for that, but you are a mage, and there are better things for mages to do than cook and clean."

"I'm not using blood magic," she stated flatly, shaking her head. "No way."

"I wasn't going to ask you to," the man said smoothly, amused. "But you will provide power for mine. Magic blood is always the best."

"No!" she exclaimed, taking a step back. "I won't do that!" His mouth set in a hard line, his amused eyes suddenly colder than ice.

"You'll do whatever I tell you to," he said, and her eyes widened at the aura of power that radiated from him. She suddenly understood why slaves did not question their masters. Then it was gone and he was the genial, amused man she'd known so far again.

"Or dear Fenris will pay for your mistakes."

She paled.

"Don't you hurt him," she half snapped, half pleaded.

"I won't have to if you be a good little falcon and cooperate," the magister said, cocking his head, and she knew he'd won.

"Fine," she spat. "I'll power your experiments. Just don't hurt him."

"And here Hadriana thought you'd be hard to tame," Danarius laughed.

Fenris, meanwhile, was struggling with his identity.

Here he was, with Master- Danarius, he corrected himself, struggling to keep the two separate in his head- expected to perform his duties as a loyal bodyguard, which was after all the reason he had been given the markings. To serve Mas- Danarius- better.

Yet there was Hawke.

He remembered her quick, gentle smile. Her laugh. The way she'd coaxed him out of his shell, and how he'd found himself telling her things he'd never told anyone else. Things like Seheron, like the fact he couldn't read. He remembered her soft hand on his arm, holding him back from bloodlust, when no one else could.

He remembered the softness in her eyes when she looked at him, how her hand lingered on his arm longer than it did on anyone else's, remembered long nights drinking aggregio and other alcoholic beverages (none of which were as good as the aggregio in his opinion) and he remembered the secrets she'd told him.

Even her name- Mercy- was perfect. For she was merciful, to the extreme of leniency. He'd tried to make her see that not all mages could be saved, but she kept insisting they could.

It was nice to see someone who wasn't a cynic, despite all the cause in the world to be one.

He had to keep fighting. He couldn't give up, couldn't slip back into being Danarious's 'little wolf' again, for her sake, because she deserved better than this, because she'd suffered enough already.

He remembered freedom, choosing what to do, what to say, what to eat. He liked freedom. It gave him something to dream about.

He had to fight. If not for her- for himself.

The first time Fenris realised what Danarius intended for Hawke, he nearly killed the man. She was standing behind Hadriana, waiting for the ritual to start, just as he was waiting behind Danarius. He fully expected his blood to be used- but when Danarius beckoned her forward his eyes widened in horror.

"Your blood isn't the only useful blood, my pet," Danarius chuckled. "Don't get jealous, my little Fenris."

"Don't you dare use her for this," Fenris had bit out, fury in his voice.

"And why not? It's willingly offered." The elf had turned to stare at Hawke, who regarded him with eyes so weary that he knew that it was her blood in exchange for his memories. He never, ever wanted to forget her and slip back into being Danarius's pet- but was it worth this?

"It's okay, Fenris," she'd said, voice heavy as she stepped forward and held her arm out. Her eyes said it all as Danarius brought the knife across her wrist and grabbed it, dragging her close to him as she paled suddenly and stumbled as the crimson substance dripped out of the cut- I have no choice.

He bit back his anger as fear and disgust swirled in his stomach. Fear for her- he had no doubts Danarius would be moderate with the amount of blood he took, he always did save enough for later- but Hadriana was a different story. And disgust that it was him they were using to make her do this. The Hawke he knew would never willingly submit to blood magic.

Then again, slavery changed everyone.

She stumbled against the wall, holding her head in her hands as the world span around her. Slowly she sank to the floor, taking deep, steadying breaths.

She needed to eat something. It's what Anders would recommend- after he chewed her out for letting her blood fuel a magister's magic. The thought of the blonde mage sent a spear of grief through her. She would probably never see her friend again. Thinking about Anders made her think of Isabela, who despite her light-heartedness would be surely worried sick for her; Varric (and Bianca), who she had come to rely on in times of trouble; Aveline, who she cared deeply for despite their constant arguments about the finer points of the law (and one memorable occasion when the redhead threw her to the floor and beat her black and blue, which, admittedly, she had asked for); and Merrill. The girl was so sweet and loveable- despite her blood magic.

She'd grown used to blood magic over the last several weeks. It didn't seem quite as abhorrent to her now. Her own blood had fuelled so much of it. It had made her feel sick at first, but there was no other choice.

Growing up apostate had taught her that sometimes you had to accept a situation for what it was.

She saw Fenris a lot, thankfully. He shadowed Danarius, was with him everywhere he went. She watched him closely for signs that his memory had been tampered with, but by the defiance in his eyes and the looks he cast her, she knew it hadn't.

Often his blood, too, was used to power Danarius's rituals. Today the magister had only used her blood. As she tried to stand, she almost fell again, and the elf gently steadied her, holding her until she was able to balance on her own.

She cast him a grateful smile.

"Thanks," she murmured, holding his hand a moment longer than was necessary. Danarius and Hadriana watched the pair before they turned and left the room. Both slaves- oh how she hated the term- followed.

Mercy had been assigned to serve Hadriana, much as Fenris served Danarius, and Hadriana took great pleasure in denying her meals and hounding her sleep. She demanded the oddest services at the oddest hours of the day, and often used her blood to enhance a spell without Danarius there, taking a lot more of it too.

By the looks the woman was casting her, she wouldn't be eating tonight. She sighed and prepared to ignore her rumbling stomach and parched throat.

Hopefully she'd have a chance to talk to Fenris again. The pair had taken to meeting up whenever they could during duty breaks, and last night they'd had nearly a whole ten minutes uninterrupted time.

It said something that she now counted time in seconds and minutes instead of hours and days. She simply couldn't plan ahead that far. Either Hadriana or Danarius needed something, or she was finally allowed to eat, or she could take a few minutes to sit down, or her blood was needed for a ritual, and that was more important than abstract plans for an unlikely future.

She now understood what Fenris had meant when they had spoken that night, when he'd said that slaves think of only satisfying their masters and what the next hour might bring. She had learned that the easiest way to get sleep and meals was to please Hadriana.

Which wasn't easy. The woman was bitter about being laughed at by the other magisters and took it out on the slaves, especially her, beating her, taking more of her blood than was safe (or indeed necessary) for her spells, and using her.

"You're so damned desperate, get a whore," she had snarled at her when she'd first been ordered to be her bedpartner.

"Why pay?" Hadriana had asked (after slapping her again- really, she had to learn to stop antagonising the woman) and shoved her on the bed.

She hadn't eaten for a week after that, and since had quietly complied with the cruel woman. It wasn't the first time she'd bedded a woman (memories of her night with Isabela swam to mind, but she quickly silenced them, not because they were bad, but because she didn't like to think about home), but this wasn't so much bedding as rape.

And because she was a slave, it didn't even count.

Danarius was harsh on his slaves, expecting nothing less than perfection. She was afraid that one day he would go too far, take too much blood, that she wouldn't be able to cope. She was afraid that he'd bleed her dry, because where would Fenris be then?

What would Mother do then?

She quickly shied away from that thought. Thinking of Mother only made this harder. Better she think her dead than a slave.

"Girl!" Hadriana snapped and a sharp tug on her hair brought her back to the world. She shot Fenris an exasperated look and followed her the other direction.

Fenris had found her outside the room after the first time Hadriana had raped her. She was staring into the distance, tears still visible on her cheeks, completely naked. He knew what had happened and ran to get something to cover her up with. As he spread the sheet gently over her, she stiffened at the contact before realising who it was.

"Fenris," she whispered, her voice cracked and broken.

Shaking with anger, and remembering the first time Danarius had used him (he, having no other memories or experiences, found it an honour to serve Master, he remembered with disgust.) He sat down beside her and wrapped a tender arm around her. She flinched away and he quickly retracted it.

"Don't…" her voice trailed off and he sat in silence, unsure what to do to comfort her as she huddled into herself, wrapping her arms around the legs she'd brought up to her chest, rocking compulsively back and forth.

"I'm going to kill that bitch," he muttered in Arcanum.

Late that night, after Hadriana had shoved her out of the bed, she'd found Fenris sitting outside the door, eyes dark with anger.

He checked her all over for injury apart from the obvious. "I hate that you're here. It's my fault. You were in that den for me." It wasn't the first time he'd expressed this sentiment, but she was too sore to argue the point tonight. Gingerly she settled herself against the wall.

"Is it any different to what Danarius does to you?" she asked. The elf stiffened slightly, eyes registering shock for a moment. "I know, Fenris. I have ears and eyes."

He didn't reply, but he didn't need to. His lack of reply was all the reply she needed. They sat in companionable silence, hands gently held. She turned to him after a few minutes, the light of the dying fire flickering in her eyes.

"I don't know if I can do it anymore, Fenris," she sighed. "The blood magic. The errands. I can't keep…" she threw a look at the door of Hadriana's room with a shudder and he knew what she was referring to. "I'm not sure if I can keep fighting." He put his hands on her shoulders.

"I know you can," he told her firmly. She tried to avert her eyes, but he spoke gently. "Look at me, Mercy. I know you're strong enough for this."

"Not without you."

It was a broken whisper, and he pulled her close. She threw her arms around him, seeking the comfort that she wasn't just a piece of property to be used and abused and thrown away after the act was done.

"I remain by your side," he said. He couldn't keep his promise- this was beyond his control- and both knew it, but he said it anyway. She burst into tears and he simply held her close and let her cry into his shoulder.

Hawke became a piece of valuable property as well, nearly as valuable as Fenris. She was a capable mage who was easy on the eyes (which always helped) and Danarius received many offers for her. But they were all turned down. He liked having his 'little falcon' around, liked tormenting his little wolf through her, and his little falcon through him. She was highly useful too- resilient against the offers of demons (after all, your slave turning into an abomination was a waste of money), and able to sacrifice large amounts of blood for rituals.

He liked, too, how she occupied Hadriana. He had ordered Hadriana not to kill her- she was too useful on many fronts to him- but anything else was fair game. As such, he'd often see his little falcon stumbling about, paler than was healthy, or, at night, sitting gingerly with her knees drawn up around her chest, legs slightly apart, shivering and clearly in pain.

He was tempted to try her out himself sometimes. But he had his Fenris, and was satisfied.

He'd seen the two slaves talking late at night, watched them getting closer. He allowed it. It gave him greater control over the both of them.

Fenris had watched the light in her eyes dying for months without being able to do anything about it, and finally he'd had enough.

"We're getting out," he said, firmly, one night. She looked up at him with disbelieving eyes- the eyes of a slave, he thought with sorrow.

"How?" she asked. This was not the Hawke he'd known in Kirkwall- the Hawke he knew would have been champing at the bit, making plans and seizing every opportunity. But now she was not that Hawke. She had succumbed to the fate of so many slaves- despair.

"I've been watching. They've become lenient, sure that we will cooperate. They're relaxing their guard. In a week, important guests are coming."

"Some other magister," she said, perking up slightly now she saw where he was going. She knew all about it. The household was in a flurry preparing, and practically all the slaves had been pressed into service for the event, even her and Fenris.

It must be bloody important if even the bodyguards were set to clean.

"Which means we'll be shown off," she realised, and her heart sank. "No chance to slip away." Hadriana had shown great joy in making her do demeaning things before others, particularly important others. It gave her pleasure to show off her pet mage to the other magisters, who all laughed at her. Though Hawke was always severely punished for absolutely nothing afterwards, in order to assuage Hadriana's ego, it was always worth it to see her 'mistress' humiliated.

"Not necessarily." The gleam in Fenris' eyes piqued her interest.

"What are you planning?" she asked.

"We're cleaning as well, aren't we? Surely two slaves amongst all the rest won't be missed." Suddenly she grinned, and he saw the old Hawke gleam in her green eyes. This was the Hawke who spent every sovereign she had to go to the Deep Roads on the off chance she might change the fortune of her family.

"Fenris, you are a genius."

The next day, Danarius- and inevitably, Hadriana, who followed Danarius like an orphaned nug cub- went to the market. Fenris and Hawke were disappointed, but by necessity both had learned to hide their emotions and betrayed no signs of this. There was no way to slip away at the market.

They weren't assigned to cleaning duty anymore, and their nightly meetings were cut off. Fenris was ordered to stay in Danarius's room, and Mercy was not exiled from the room anymore, instead forced to stay with the woman she hated most.

Their plan had been discovered, it seemed. Which didn't mean that when they did travel together they weren't looking for ways to escape.

Their greatest chance was at the banquet, but they had to stick close to the sides of their charges. Who fortunately sat together, so they could at least remain close to each other as they watched their only chance of escape slip away.

It was this which finally broke her. As the magister and his attendants left, she stared after the closed door and broke down in tears.

She didn't even try to resist when Hadriana dragged her upstairs, and Fenris' heart broke watching her.

I am going to kill you, he thought, and wasn't sure whether it was directed at Hadriana or Danarius. Perhaps it was directed at both.

Either way, he was going to come through.