Cover art is a doodle by me. You can see a close up version of it here: iamrecycable . deviantart art / Fenris - and - Hawke - 484103440 (close spaces)

*goes back into hiding*

After playing Dragon Age 2 for the 5th time in a row, I thought it was finally time to write it all out. This will be a sort of novelization of my sarcastic Mage Hawke X Fenris. I'm going to try to stick pretty close to the canon of the story though dialogue and how events happen may happen differently and I'll also be adding a lot of events that I felt like they didn't explore enough of. I'm a bit new to this site as well as fanfiction. This was sort of more for myself to see all of the things that I wish that I could have seen in the game. Also, I have never downloaded Sebastian, so he won't be appearing in this fic. Sorry about that.

Thanks so much for stopping by and taking the time to read my fic. Any criticisms are welcome and I'll try to adjust accordingly. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.


For the past few weeks, Fenris had been running on nothing but adrenaline and any berries, nuts and gamy meat he managed to scavenge. He did not recognize the plant-life in this region and his last meal gave him a fever that took him almost a week to break. It was just sheer luck that the hunters had not caught up to him wandering around deliriously in the hills.

Fenris preferred the cities. Even if this wretched place stank of fish and desperation, it was a welcome reprieve from the hunt. There were hundreds, if not thousands of refugees swarming the dark shanties of the Undercity, and the stink was familiar, if not a bit comforting. Down here, he was just another elf covered in dust and muck. He could gather information and collect his bearings.

He was sure he had lost most of his pursuers since Ostwick, though he wasn't sure how far behind they were. Was it better to keep heading west like he had been doing or try his chances in Ferelden? They had just recovered from a Blight and it might be easier to get lost in the chaos. Either way, he needed to pause. He didn't want to make the mistake of heading back towards Tevinter again.

The slavers had come not a day later and brought a rumor that had caught his ear. Rumor had it that Danarius had come with the slavers and carried a trinket with him; something that belonged to the Lyrium Warrior from before he became it. He didn't act on the rumor for a few days. All of the Tevinter slavers kept talking about the trinket; it was the surest sign of a trap if he'd ever heard it.

There was only one thing that Danarius could have possibly thought to bring with him- an elven amulet made from ironbark and carved with a simple Dalish design. It was supposedly his mother's greatest treasure, though he wouldn't have known any different. For all he knew Danarius had picked it up from a random merchant and told him that it was from his mother just so he could withhold it from him when he was 'bad' and reward him with it in the obscure moments when he was 'good.' He used to fall asleep looking at it, imagining his mother's face, wondering what hope she felt looking at it. He liked to believe that it belonged to his family and was secretly passed down before the generations that they were slaves, but he was sure it was just fantasy.

It would be foolish for him to risk his freedom on the off-chance that he'd be able to get back a simple trinket, and yet he couldn't get it out of his mind. In the quiet moments of being invisible amongst the refugees, he ached to hold it in his hands and the ache refused to leave him. So he began to plot. Fenris head was reeling. He knew that they knew that he knew it was a trap, but how did one plan for that? With enough coin he was sure he could be able to convince any fool to spring the trap for him. He could take out the hunters in one fell swoop and give himself a much needed respite from all of the running. And…he might be able to get it back.

He spent much the last few days getting to know the city, sleeping on rooftops in Lowtown and stealing from unsuspecting nobles in Hightown. He was a clumsy pickpocket but he was able to manage snatching 5 whole sovereigns from several shops. All the time, he studied the criminal guilds to see if there were any hirelings he could employ, but as many desperate folk were in the city, the Coterie seemed to be the only guild that he could look for questionable work. It didn't take him long to discover that there were huge slaving networks in the Undercity, so he knew that he would need to be careful. It didn't take long for the news of an escaped elven slave that once belonged to a powerful magister to hit the all the criminal guilds. Now all of the eyes of the underworld were looking for an odd, white-haired elf with pale lyrium tattoos. They would flush him out of hiding soon enough.

He would need to consider his next move carefully.


A few days later, while carefully tailing a few Tevinter slavers from his hunting party, he stumbled upon an argument about a tiny little thieves guild that wasn't even big enough to have a name.

"Bloody knife-ear. She's stupid to not take the coin." Fenris knew this voice to be Diana. He recognized her voice from Ostwick and was Captain Clemens right hand. She was ruthless woman who wouldn't hesitate to kill innocents to get her way. He was surprised that she had allowed an elf to cross her and live.

"We can eliminate them for insurance." This was a lower officer's voice whom Fenris did not know. Whether they had resupplied their troops or he had just not taken notice of him before, he did not know.

"Doesn't matter," Diana replied. "She's not a threat. He's been sighted in the city. Let's make another report to the Captain. I heard they're meeting with a man named Brekker."

Fenris knew he should leave. With more eyes on the city he would be found within days and he had spent much time at the docks telling himself to slip on a boat- any boat. But he couldn't bring himself to. Though he was sure the trinket was not here, he needed to be certain.

Fenris found himself at a warehouse in Lowtown after paying some silver to a beggar outside of a dirty little tavern. It looked like it had been abandoned for at least the decade and was definitely not the most glamorous place to host a criminal operation. If his information was wrong, he would pay the beggar another visit.

He approached the door and began to knock.

"Don't move," a voice warned. A man he thought was another vagrant was now pointing a slung arrow at him. He was in a forest green, tattered hood, but underneath he wore leather armor with a strangely Dalish aesthetic. He had distinct green eyes that many of the elves shared, himself included, and deep beige skin marked with curving tattoos on his forehead and cheeks. He wore his woodsy, brown hair in a tight braid. "Speak your business or I'll shoot."

Fenris carefully raised his hands to show that he was unarmed, though he wondered if he could reach for his sword fast enough. "I wish to arrange business with your leader."

"What kind of business?" the elf grunted.

"That is between me and your leader," Fenris said firmly.

The elf grunted again, loosening his arrow, but not by much. He gestured with his head, "follow me."

The elf kept his arrow trained on Fenris and carefully backed into a side alley. He had hoped that the elf would look away long enough for him to lunge, but he had seemed to memorized the steps and never took his eyes off of him. The elf kicked over a large plank of wood, which was hiding a secret entrance. "Get inside," he instructed.

Fenris obeyed now finding himself in a tiny, damp room piled with crates. It seemed well-stocked with a random assortment of merchandise. In the middle was a blond elven woman behind a large, maple desk. There were a few papers scattered on it as well as a few half-empty wine bottles and coin. She was lounging cozily in her half-shredded arm-chair, casually picking dirt out of from under her fingernails with a dagger.

"Ah, Marco," she said warmly. There were a few strands of hair in her green eyes from where it was falling out of her ponytail. "You've brought a guest."

"This is Athenril. State your business. Reach for your sword and you die." the elf named Marco warned. He kept his arrow steady on Fenris.

Fenris felt like there was a huge lump in his throat and he tried to swallow it down. He knew all the eyes in the room were on him, and all he wanted to do was hide again. The bottom of his feet were sweating and the dust from the wood on the floor was sticking to them. "I've come to…appeal for you help. I would like to pay for a small contingent of men for a…problem I'm having."

She stopped and leaned forward, studying him. "You must be the Tevinter fugitive."

'Shit,' he thought. He knew that with his white hair, elven heritage, and distinct lyrium markings would be difficult to hide. He wasn't expecting her to figure it out so soon. He had to trust that the rumors about her were true or he'd be sent off to Tevinter before sunset.

She sighed when he didn't answer. "You seem like a nice kid, but I don't mess with slavers." Athenril leaned back in her chair attending to her nails again. Though it was a run-down warehouse, she held herself as if it was a kingdom and that mold-stained chair was her throne. Two burly humans stood on either side of her, clad in full heavy armor and two-handed blades at their hips, and daggers for eyes, but she seemed undisturbed. Apparently cleaning the dirt out from under her fingers was a better use of her time than talking to an escaped elven slave. "I don't like to pass on business but you might want to try to Coterie for this. They have the manpower you're looking for."

Fenris leveled a glare, but did not move. "Your unwillingness to deal with flesh is what brought me here. You possess…morals. The Coterie have none. I'd prefer to do my business with you." He also knew that the Coterie would probably turn on him for his bounty of 10 times his asking price. He would not risk trusting them.

The elf-woman laughed a hearty laugh. "I possess morals." She laughed again even harder and pointed a delicate finger at him. "Look…I feel for your situation. I do. I used to be you, but distracting a Tevinter hunting party sounds like it'd lose me a lot of good men. I don't have that many left." She waved him away.

The elf gritted his teeth, his face squeezed into a scowl. Fenris tried to keep a calm demeanor, calculating whether or not he could kill everyone in the warehouse but he had no element of surprise. He could not risk grievous injuries while the slavers were on such high alert. He should have known it was too much to ask, but he had to try. "Would I be able to buy your silence, then?"

"You can try," Athenril chuckled, but then she stopped mid-laugh as if she thought of something. She turned her head to Marco. "Actually…bring Anso if you will."

The archer lowered his bow, and disappeared deeper into the warehouse. "I…am confused? Are we reaching a new arrangement?"

"Not with me. Like I said, I keep my hands out of the flesh business," she dug her dagger into her desk, as if to emphasize that it would be her final say on that. He noticed that there were many notch-holes dug into her desk. "But, I might be able to point you to a…contact if you will. For a price."

He was utterly confused. Was this a trick? He mentally readied himself to draw his sword in case it was. "Thank you," he said carefully.

She waved her hand in front of her mouth again. It must be a common Free March gesture because he noticed that many of the ladies spoke like that. "Don't thank me, yet. She doesn't work for me anymore and we kind of had a falling out so I can't guarantee she'll even agree, but this is right up her alley."

A pair of heavy footsteps kicked up the dust behind him. "Y-you wanted to see my, Messere Athenril," He was a funny little dwarf, with grey, buggy eyes and wiry black hair. No braid was in his bushy beard. He rubbed his meaty hands nervously.

"Ah, Anso. I have some work for you," the elven woman had a smile on her face, but Fenris swore her words were dripping with venom.

The dwarf he presumed was Anso nervously bowed and then bowed again for good measure. "Y-you are g-gracious, Messere Athenril."

She took out a quill and piece of paper off of her desk and scribbled down a quick note before stuffing it into an envelope. She made no effort to seal it. "I want you to deliver this message to Charlotte Hawke. You know where she lives?"

"I-I can't say that I do…"

She beckoned him to take the letter from her hand which he did so nervously. He was shaking so bad that it looked like it might have been crumpled. "Marco will show you. She's actually in a little hovel not too far from here, but be prepared to have a few mercenaries lined up just in case Hawke's still too ruffled by our last encounter. Pull off this elf's request and I'll consider your debt cut by 10 percent."

"So you want me to pay for the information with no guarantee?" Fenris raised a strong, black eyebrow. He was deeply regretting stepping foot in here. This woman came with too many risks.

"You want a guarantee?" she threw an accusing glare. "All of the Undercity's looking for an elf with white hair and your markings. You don't exactly blend in. Walk away from this and you will have to take your chances on the run, but work with me I can give you information on where that trap of yours is, and a woman who with the skill to help you."

Fenris shifted his weight uncomfortably, painfully aware of how vulnerable he was. "You are sure she can help me?"

For some reason that made Athenril chuckle. "I don't want to say too much, but she was the reason that my…business was able to be as successful as it was while the Coterie was busy gutting our competition. Let's just say, I was very sad to see her go."

"And how much will this information cost me?"

She tilted her head, examining him up and down. It reminded Fenris of how Danarius looked at potential slaves at the marketplace, though there wasn't any poking and prodding. "You look like you're pretty handy with that sword. How about you pay me in services rendered. One year sounds about right for the risk on my end." She had the smile of a viper.

He tried not to betray his nervousness but every instinct had told him to run from this woman. "I…suppose I have no choice."

"Perfect," she cooed, ripping the dagger out of the desk. "Might want to keep that coin. You'll need it to pay Hawke if she comes through." Her eyes flicked over to Anso and she scowled. "What are you still doing here? Scat!"

"O-of course, Messere," Anso jumped at that, bending the letter in half and scuttled off.

Fenris watched him leave. He wasn't sure if he would live long enough to regret this.