Title: Ipseity
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters/Pairings: DA2 crew; not exactly Fenders but there are hints here and there.
Rating: T (?)
Warnings: substance abuse; mild sexual themes; sometimes swearing
Summary: He saw his own face staring at him with anger and panic. Fenris was on the verge of losing his sanity once and forever. / ye olde body swap trope
Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine, although the writing certainly is.
A/N: divided into chapters because apparently I don't do *short* oneshots, and this thing got lengthy… I'll post the rest once I'm done editing.
The reason why I wrote this is that I had a paper to write, and I procrastinated so much that I actually wrote a fic instead. Incredible. I still haven't written the paper…
ipseity – selfhood; the quality of being oneself; the essential element of individual identity
They always followed Hawke no matter what, and even though sometimes Fenris questioned why their self–proclaimed leader aka the Champion of Kirkwall got excited every time there was a possibility of doing a job that could result in getting a bag of gold coins. Usually all they got was trash like rusty swords or a pair of torn trousers, and as a bonus – bruises after fighting with all possible kinds of opponents, including slavers, assassins or the local fauna (namely: giant spiders). It was as if the quest itself was more important than the prize that awaited afterwards. Maybe that was exactly the reason why Marian Hawke always said "yes" to adventuring.
As much as Fenris didn't mind Hawke, he wasn't exactly a fan of other party members; Marian dragged also Sebastian, Merrill and Anders with her, so Fenris kept his mouth shut and avoided eye contact. At least the abomination wasn't rambling about mages, and the Dalish girl wasn't annoying him. Yet.
He couldn't quite remember what was supposed to be the reason of their quest, though he did remember why he disliked the area outside Kirkwall. There was always someone, or something, just waiting to attack them. But Hawke wanted to go, so they followed her like mindless sheep with only mild complaining. This time Hawke led them into some ruins; supposedly there might be a treasure awaiting them, although Fenris doubted they would find something else than dust, filth and spider webs. He watched their surroundings, ready to strike if attacked, but nothing happened. Once they reached a vast chamber, Hawke examined the place carefully, the top of her staff glowing slightly, serving as an additional source of light to help her find anything worth her attention.
"Hey, look, we actually found a thing!" Hawke gave them a wide smile, holding up an orange–sized golden ball.
"So you didn't expect us to find anything worth our time and energy we spent getting here?" Anders sighed. "At least there's no giant spiders…"
"Only the little ones!" Merrill beamed, looking at an impressive cobweb covering a half–destroyed statue.
"Then we should leave this place," Sebastian suggested, clearly anxious. "This place was long forgotten by the Maker."
"People who built it didn't care much about the Maker," Fenris pointed at a fresco still visible after so many years. It showed a two–headed dragon roaring, its wing spread obscuring the sky, tiny people under his feet, clearly worshipping the creature or whatever it was supposed to represent.
"More reasons to leave," the Prince mumbled, taking a step back from the painting.
"We're not leaving yet!" Hawke called from across the room. "There's a corridor leading somewhere, and let's hope this somewhere has a nice treasure waiting for us!"
They all followed, their footsteps echoing between the old walls. Merrill and Anders produced small flickering orbs of magic that illuminated their way, but also made the darkens surrounding them seem more liquid. Fenris fought with a feeling of uneasiness creeping up his spine. There was magic in the air, making his skin itch, and not the kind of magic he was used to, Hawke's, Merrill's or Anders', but something older and more primal, buried deep within this place.
He could suggest going back, though as long as Hawke wanted to go forward, there were going to do what she wanted.
After a while they got to the end of the corridor. Marian looked highly disappointed there wasn't a vault filled with gold waiting for her.
"Well. That's a bummer," she sighed.
She looked around though there was not much to look at. The corridor was a dead end, and they were now facing a stone wall. There was only a small statue of a two headed dragon standing on a small pedestal. It seemed to be made out of stone, so Hawke didn't pay much attention to it, not interested in anything that wasn't shiny.
Fenris narrowed his eyes. He could swear the statue moved one of its heads. He took a step closer.
"There's something wrong with this place…" he heard Merrill say.
"Andraste, guide us," Sebastian said.
Anders snorted. "Praying won't help, you better have your bow ready. Fenris! Step away from that thing, it may be a trap!"
Despite the warning, the warrior took another step closer, mesmerised by the statue. His marking itched, the air was dense with magical power. If he could just see it move…
Anders grabbed his shoulder to pull him back, but it was too late already. Fenris heard the mage gasp, and was sure he, too, saw the dragon heads move, glaring at him with black, dead eyes.
Then a wave of energy threw them all back, the elf's back hit the stone wall, and he fell on the floor with a groan of pain. He didn't lose his consciousness, merely closed his eyes for a moment – when Fenris opened them again, he instantly knew there was something wrong.
Moaning, complaining or, in Hawke's case, swearing, they all got up. Fenris shook his head. Merrill stared at him with her mouth opened wide. She was significantly paler, too.
"What?!" he barked, then couched. His voice sounded different. Merrill somehow seemed smaller as if he was looking at her from a different perspective.
Then it hit him, and the whole world spun around him. Merrill wasn't smaller, he got taller. Fenris looked down on his body, partially prepared to expect what he was about to see, but he still cried out in frustration. Heavy boots, a long coat, and there was a staff on his back. He stared at his hands; pale skin, long fingers. He clutched at his face, and felt stubble.
No. No, no, no. No, no, nooo!
Fenris wanted to scream. He didn't, but Anders did. Hearing his own voice screaming, he jumped in shock.
"What the fuck did you do, you blighted elf?!" Growled his body. But it was Anders. He saw his own face staring at him with anger and panic. Fenris was on the verge of losing his sanity once and forever.
"Can someone please tell me what happened?" Asked Hawke in a tired voice, only now standing up on her feet.
They both turned to her, after all she was the well–known saviour.
"The elf did something!" Yelled Anders. Fenris never knew his voice could be so high–pitched.
"I didn't do anything!" he growled, not entirely satisfied with the sound he produced.
"Wha–…?" Hawke wheezed.
Before one of them could reply, Merrill rushed to explain, "They switched bodies. I don't know how, I saw something like an energy link between them for a split second. Fenris didn't touch the statue, but maybe one of us activated a trap or… or we're just very unlucky."
"Dear Maker…" Sebastian gasped. "This can't be! What foul magic..?!"
"All magic is foul!" Fenris spat, giving the Prince an angry frown.
"Stop– Stop doing that with my face!" Anders whined, very close to a hysteria. "You're constantly frowning, you'll leave wrinkles on my face!"
"I'm not doing anything with your face!" he barked back. He hated the voice that was coming out of his mouth. He had boots on his feet (boots!), and all those layers of clothing made his whole body itchy. He also felt heavier, not to mention that the blighted feathers on his shoulders were driving him crazy.
"Andraste's ass, this can't be happening!"
"Anders, please, refrain from this kind of language in my presence!" Sebastian complained.
"You think offending you is my biggest problem now?!" Anders growled, and Fenris saw his own body flicker with energy provided by his lyrium markings.
"Calm down, mage!" he warned. "You may hurt yourself and my body if you're not careful."
Anders gave him an angry look. Fenris realised he looked very much like a wild animal, glaring at people like this.
"Where's Justice?" asked the mage, regaining enough control to sound calm. "He's not with me. Can you feel him?"
Fenris swore under his breath, only now remembering why exactly he called the man an abomination. Strangely enough, he felt no unwanted presence in his head. There was only… something like a barrier at the back of his mind; the more he concentrated on it, the more his head was aching, so he focused back on the present moment.
"No. There's a barrier in my head, but no treacherous demons whispering into my ear."
"Justice is no demon!" Anders growled, the markings flickered again.
"I told you to calm down!" He yelled back, his voice getting hoarse.
"Okay, okay!" Hawke interrupted, stepping between them. "Girls, stop fighting, you're both pretty. Now, let's make one thing clear. You touched the statue..?"
"Yes," Fenris said. Anders took a deep breath and nodded.
"Okay, let's take a step back from the cursed thing, then."
They did as Marian said. Fenris noticed Merrill's frightened gaze fixed on him.
"And you swapped bodies, so that now Fenris is in Anders' body, and Anders is in Fenris' body?"
"That is correct," mumbled Fenris feeling a blush spreading on his face. Anders just glared silently.
They both stared in disbelief at Hawke who snorted with laughter. "Varric must hear about this!"
"This isn't funny! This is a disaster," Anders complained. "I can't feel my magic, there's lyrium under my skin, and my feet are cold because this blighted elf doesn't wear shoes!"
Fenris observed his body talking and reacting, feeling a strong urge to run to his mansion to get drunk, hoping it was all a bad dream. He wanted to punch the mage, but then he would be punching his own body. Why was everything so complicated all of the sudden..?!
"And I'm most certainly not carrying this!" Anders took the sword off his back. It landed on the ground with a loud clank!
Fenris could feel his blood boil. He reached for the hilt, grabbed and pulled it to swing it in the air and maybe cut that idiot mage's head or at least pretend to do so, but…
He could not pick up the sword. He pulled, yet this body didn't want to cooperate. He lifted it for few seconds before he had to let it go, as the weight was simply too much for him.
Feeling other staring at him, he grabbed the mage's staff in return. "Do you want me to break this into pieces?!" he yelled, though his voice sounded weak after all that sword pulling.
"Don't even try!" Anders yelled back, accidentally activating the markings again.
"Enough!" Hawke's voice thundered between the walls, silencing them both. She took a deep, calming breath.
"Anders, stop glowing and carry the stupid sword. Fenris, just take the damned staff, you won't be able to pick up the sword anyway. I've never thought I'd say these things, but here we are." Hawke wiped sweat from her forehead. "Forget the treasures. We're going back to Kirkwall before I go crazy."
"It's heavy, Hawke," Anders complained, taking the sword in his hands like it was as a feather.
"Have you ever heard me complaining?" hissed Fenris. "No, because my body is strong and used to carrying heavy weapons, unlike your weakling mage arms."
"Your bickering is NOT helping," Hawke raised her voice again, her magic palpable in the air. They should have known better than to make the Champion angry.
"And while we're on our way to Kirkwall, you two have a chat about your glowing thing and how to control it."
"This stupid mage can't understand– "
"Fenris." He closed his mouth seeing Hawke's scolding glare. Even though she was significantly shorter than his current self, she still managed to look no less intimidating than the Archdemon.
"I… apologise," he said in a calm voice. "Let's get going."
Once they were outside, Fenris was fed up with the mage, and, most importantly, his body. He could barely walk in these heavy shoes. At least Anders looked equally uncomfortable, though all that lyrium under the skin aside, Fenris had no idea why the mage complained. His body was certainly in a better shape than the mage's skinny shell covered in layers of unnecessary clothing.
He had no intention of initiating a conversation, so they just walked behind Hawke, Merrill and Sebastian in silence.
"Oh, this is so exciting!" Merrill said to Marian. "Though it must be really hard for these two. I don't know what would I do if I swapped my body with someone…"
"I know what I'd do if I swapped my body with a guy," Hawke winked at the Dalish elf.
"This is the Maker punishing you for your sins," Sebastian announced, his eyes narrowed.
Before Fenris could react (his reaction would most likely beating the man with the staff he had in his hands), Hawke turned his head to growl at the Prince.
"One more word, and I will punish you, no need to wait for the Maker's wrath!"
It was a long walk to the city, and never in his life Fenris felt more uncomfortable.