Someone once told me that you can't justify Fenris siding with the Mages - that they didn't care how much he loved Hawke or how loyal he was, Fenris hates mages and would rather leave than fight for them.

This is my attempt to justify Fenris siding with mages.

This is a character study. A spin-off. A sequel. While it isn't necessary to read Heavy in your Arms first, it is still recommended. Hell, you can read Heavy in your Arms after this story if you want. They are both independent of one another, but tied deeply into each other.

I received quite a few letters, comments, reviews, and some lovely feedback about Heavy in your Arms, a fic I posted here that was more of a character study about the romance between Rival!Anders x Pro-Templar Mage Hawke.

While their story is done, wrapped, and finished, there are a few key players in that story who were deeply touched and changed, but ignored.

This fic is theirs.

Fenris POV- First Chapter
Isabela POV- Second Chapter

HARDEST OF HEARTS

There is love in your body but you can't get it out
It gets stuck in your head, won't come out of your mouth
Sticks to your tongue and it shows on your face that
The sweetest of words have the bitterest taste

- Florence + The Machine

FENRIS

I wish I had purpose.

I always thought the fight for freedom was my purpose, but I know now that isn't true.

Freedom always comes at a price. Now that I have it, I've fast learned that there is no such thing as absolute freedom. One cannot simply walk around and do anything they want. One must adhere to the law, restrict their actions, and accept this final truth: you are only allowed as much freedom as others are willing to give you. Unfortunately, many laws are words without weight. A man with enough coin and prestige has the freedom to ignore the law, perhaps even shape it; They have the freedom to crush yours. There are always people who benefit from the suffering of others, that is the price of freedom.

This is true for all societies except the Qun.

The concept of freedom is not transparent in the Qun. It is a simple choice. You have the freedom to live or die, and that is freedom enough. Too much freedom creates chaos and limits the quality of individuals within society.

I respect a theology that sees worth and usefulness in every person. The Qun is able to disengage itself from the importance of one person over another. It understands that without guidance, thinking creatures will always be led astray. Qunari stress the equality of every single working creature within society. Sacrificing one's life to the Qun is not freedom, it is necessity. Only then can people live with purpose. These are the words of Koslun. These are the words of the Qun.

I respect the Qun, but I can never be Qunari.

It is not a theological dispute. I agree with its principles and beliefs. But I cannot call myself a Qunari, because I hate the Qun. I don't know my place in it. I have no purpose.

Hatred has ruined any chance I may have to enter that society. So does my lack of purpose.

"Speak, little wolf! We have guests. They require the voice of our Saarebas. Won't you entertain us? Speak the Qun!"
"Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun."
"Very good, little wolf! See? I teach my Saarebas quite well, don't I? And what am I to you? Who am I?"
"You are... my Arvaarad. The one who holds the leash."

I was created as a slave. That was my 'purpose'. But now that I am a free man, what now?

Sometimes I wonder where I would be now if the Qunari had finally felled all of Thedas? What would be my purpose then? At least I would be at peace, knowing all mages were controlled.

Understand that the Qun believes mages should be leashed, that they must be bound, silenced, and protected from the tongues of demons. These mages go willingly. It is their role in life to protect themselves and other Qunari from the threat of magic. It is necessary.

Mages that submit to the Qun are called Saarebas. They are feared and respected. It takes a great soul to submit to such a hard path. The other option is death, but be aware mages have many other options that often end in demons, blood magic, and abominations. When you compare apostates to the Qunari, Saarebas always take the higher road.

"And how is my little Saarebas doing? Are you prepared for war, Saarebas?"
"Yes, Master. I am ready."

I maybe a living weapon capable of crushing hearts without severing skin, but I am no Saarebas. I was created as a fancy Tevinter perversion of the Qun.

Tension between the Magistrates and Qunari has existed for centuries. But is this bitter relationship truly surprising? While the Qun demands order, respect, and equality, the Tevinters are ruled by chaos, power, and politics. Were it up to the Qunari, they would leash the empire and pleasantly bestow the Archon Magistrates a mercy death. Were it up to the Tevinters, they would burn the island of Par Vollen and leave a trail of decapitated bodies back to the Tevinter capital of Minrathous. The military attacks between both empires have waned over the years, but the cultural war remains. Slaves, servants, and towns on the Imperium's borders are converting to the Qun. Fog Warriors (Or 'Sten', as defined by the Qunari) stay their hand on the occupied island of Seheron threatening to cross the Nocen Sea and into mage territory. My very creation was an act of psychological warfare and outright slander to the Qun.

I am the Tevinter version of Saarebas, if you can even call me that. Slaves that share my special circumstance are even called Saarebas by our masters.

That is how I know the Qun. Danarius forced me to memorize the heavy text. I could not read, but I could listen, and for years a servant was paid to read the books out loud. There were many sleepless nights when Hadriana, Danarius' apprentice, lashed me awake and demanded perfect pronunciation as I tirelessly quoted the Qunari's sacred book word for word for word for word...

"Again, little wolf. Please, entertain our guests. What is that little passage concerning mages and their place in the Qun..?"

Not only was I a favored weapon, but I proved to be a wonderful source of entertainment in Tevinter's company.

Is it not surprising why I hate mages so much?

Mages have controlled and ruined my entire life. I have seen children rendered as puppets through blood magic just for entertainment. I have watched mages deal with demons just for coin or the pleasure of flesh. I have witnessed these magic users tap into the dark arts in order to stitch together living beings for experiment and profit.

How could I not hate them?

How could I not hate all of them?

They have stripped me of my freedom, my memory, even the only faith I've come to respect.

And now, yet another mage ruins me. I can do nothing but stare as dark smoke plumes from Hightown. I am in shock, my eyes searching for the Chantry's familiar outline, replaced by nothing. A moment was all that damned mage needed to take everything away from me.

"He is dead," Hawke announces, standing as Anders's body falls slack on the ground. Her arm and her breastplate is stained wet with fresh blood, the executioner's blade in her hand slick red and damp. She watches us with a level of detachment unfamiliar to me. She pockets the killing weapon. I envy that she killed him. I would have gladly crushed his heart if given the word.

Marian's gaze stays on mine, unmoving. Our company is still here, but her eyes do not sway from mine.

"I still stand with the Mages," Hawke says calmly. "Fenris. You must stand with me."

My stomach churns.

I do hate mages. I hate them with a passion. I hate them all... except for Marian.

I did not always respect Marian Hawke. When I first met her, I did not suspect that she was a mage. All I saw was a shambled looking Ferelden mercenary who made a name for herself as a gang member in the Red Irons. It wasn't until after we cleared my former master's mansion of traps and demons that she started to cast spells as if she were a free mage in the middle of the Tevinter. Her willingness to use magic in front of me was alarming, especially since I did not know her. I immediately vocalized my hatred of her kind. Despite the insults, Marian offered to pay me for my services should I be in need of work.

Still, I did not trust her for what she was, regardless of the kindness Hawke offered.

I even threatened to turn her over the Templars, as well as the other mages in her party. For what good can come out of associating with an apostate, a blood mage, and an abomination? I know only of ruin.

"Well, we are at the Gallows. Why don't you try to turn us in?"
"Are you... daring me? Do not challenge me, Hawke."
"Then don't judge me, Fenris."
"I know what you are capable of. All mages are alike."
"Very well, coward. Allow me to do you the favor of turning myself in. I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."

Isabela, to this day, still delights recalling the stunned expression on my face when Hawke casually sauntered over to the Templar Captain, shared pleasantries the man, and proceeded to joke about turning herself into the Circle.

"I don't suppose you have another room in there, right? I could always bunk with Orsino. I imagine his lodgings are quite sufficient."
"Oh for... Marian, I do not suggest trying our patience with sarcasm."
"Oh now, Cullen. You need to get that stick out of your ass and loosen up."
"... Dear Maker.. Here are your orders today. Go back to hunting apostates and leave us be."

And that's when the truth hit me.

Hawke hunted apostates.

She was an apostate who hunted apostates.

"I'm damn good at my job, and if it keeps me and my family alive and the templars pay the kindness of a blind eye on my status, then I'll do it."

The madness of it all.

How do I, a former slave who hates mages, respond to an apostate whose actions are in my favor? I felt so conflicted and confused. I didn't understand. It made no sense to me.

"Why do you choose to be an apostate hunter, especially if you are a mage? If I may ask."
"Well... why do you choose to be a free man, if you were designed to be a slave?"
"Mm... I... think I see. But I still understand you very little."
"You only need to understand this, Fenris. You and I both are survivors. We've both had to deal with a lot to get by in life."
"But you are a mage."
"Indeed. I maybe a hypocrite. But I'm at least I'm a living hypocrite."

Hawke and I were both molded by our history, abused by outside circumstances, and did whatever we could to stay alive and free. I have seen mages turn to blood and demonic promises in order to stay alive, but Marian Hawke was rare - she chose a more difficult and less promising route. It took a long time to form any semblance of trust between us, but in time I learned our common interests and friendship could not be dissuaded by the taint of magic.

She understood the dangers of magic. Hawke truly believed mages had to be controlled in order to protect the freedoms of other people. We agreed on so many points concerning the necessity to restrict mage freedom, that I often forgot I was even talking to an apostate during these conversations.

It was... a peculiar relationship. But I never had a friend up until that point, so I can't compare. I can only say that at first I felt tense and uncomfortable around Hawke, even if I appreciated and enjoyed her company. I do not deny that I found her attractive, in form and body. She was a beautiful woman hardened by experience and sound sense, who had proven her loyalty and trusted my judgment. More than that, more than anything, Hawke was capable of evoking something in me that no other could.

"For crying out... Fenris, you really need to stop drinking so much damn wine."
"It is here. I am here. It is mine to drink. I am a free man! I can do as I please."
"I'm not suggesting it is bad for your health. I'm just saying that you could learn to share. I quite like this brand, thank you."
"As you should. It is built on the sweat and tears of Tevinter slaves!"
"Well then, high compliments and cheers! You should really consider a career change if the wine is this good. What is a few broken hopes and dreams when you can make the best wine in Thedas?"

She made me laugh.

Her jokes were often crude, had terrible timing, and her snark was lost to many people. The templars did not appreciate her sense of humor, mercenaries found it damning, but for whatever reason, her sarcasm thoroughly amused me.

"Fenris. Are you... chuckling...?"
"No."
"You were chuckling."
"I was NOT chuckling."
"Oh you were SO chuckling. Dear mother of the high seas, Anders!"
"What, Isabela?"
"Fenris was giggling like a Chantry virgin in Antiva!"
"I... what?"
"Yes! It was over one of Hawke's horrible, excruciating jokes involving Nugs and Dwarves."
"... Has he gone mad?"
"cough"
".. Oh, now he's back to brooding."

Marian made me happy. When night terrors ruined my sleep, I would knock on her door and we would sit atop the roofs of lowtown's buildings, stewing our insides with bottles of wine. She was comfortable in my silence, and I enjoyed listening to her tall tales and urban legends. Over time, I noticed our relationship change. Our conversations seemed to flip into a different direction, where she listened more and talked less and I became more chatty, I suppose.

"I like quiet people."
"Why is that?"
"Because they have so many interesting things to say, but they never say it. When they do... Its refreshing."

I thought that this friendship would last. I thought, in many ways, we were building towards something much more, but I was slow to act. Perhaps it was caution, confusion, I don't know.

And then the letters started coming.

"Marian. I beg you don't reply to this letter."
"Have you read it? Its madness. Anders is truly convinced every single mage in Thedas should be a free man! He believes Templars should be eliminated, the Circle abolished, and the Chantry reformed. Pure madness."
"Please, Mary. I beg you don't answer him."
"I don't have a choice, Fenris. Anders is wrong, and he won't listen to me. I need to convince him before he does something... stupid."
"He already did something stupid, Mary. He made a deal with a demon."
"Trust me, I am aware. I met Justice earlier. We nearly killed one another after he found out what I do for a living. Anders and I refuse to see one another face to face, but we have to keep in contact. And I need your help with correspondence."
"How..? How can I help? I'm illiterate. You think they teach slaves how to read and write?"
"No. But you have experience where I do not. You know the importance of keeping mages caged more than anyone here in Kirkwall."

With a reluctant heart, I would sit down with Hawke and help her execute lengthy letters imploring Anders to halt his destructive beliefs. We spent hours together, and she used my life as an example of how unrestrained magic can harm the greater good of society and how important it is best to protect the interests of many innocent people at the expense of a few mages. I opened myself up in ways I had never done before. I felt naked and scrutinized. Marian had come to know me in a very deep, personal way. But Marian wasn't the only one who knew me. Indirectly, through those damn letters I helped her write, so did the recipient - Anders.

The man only wrote me once. It was a single page, a few sentences and nothing more. I sat down by the fire place and scrutinized the foreign writing. I did not know what it said, I could only stare and imagine.

For three years, Marian visited me nightly with thick reams of paper, a handful of quills, and heavy bottles of ink. With enough wine in my system, I looked forward to every night she'd spend in my mansion, penning those papers. Between breaks, the woman tried to teach me to read. Her Ferelden accent amused me to no end as she trained my ear to each sound a letter made. I had greater difficulty writing than I did reading, but even then, my literacy was still pathetic. It was a real struggle to even read Children's tales, but Marian was patient and always warmed me up with the suggestion that wine makes better lessons.

I can get by barely reading in print. Hand written documents, however, were another matter entirely.

I sat there and tried to decipher Anders's letter, but nothing. I recognized a word or two... but little else. Why would he write me? What did he have to say? I had not spoken to Anders in years. I had not seen him since the Deep Roads. Why was he writing me? He knew I hated him.

With all my heart. I hated him.

More than ever, I wanted to know exactly what the man I hated had to say to me.

"Did you receive the invitation?" Hawke inquired as she took a seat at my table.
"Invitation?"
"Yes. Anders wants us to go Sundermount with us. He's also inviting Merrill. You read the letter? He wants to make peace."
"Mary, be careful."
"Why?"
"How long have you two pushed your arguments? A year? Two years?"
"Yes..."
"... You haven't changed his mind, have you?"
"No."
"You are only strengthening his resolve. Be careful, Mary."
"Will you come?"
"Do I have a choice?"

I did not enjoy the walk. I stayed several feet behind, and scrutinized Anders from afar. His company was never a joy, and over the years of hearing Hawke read his letters aloud and helping her write lengthy, calculative responses, I disliked him more and more. It was excruciating, watching them from afar. I assumed Marian was not being entirely honest about the dynamic of their relationship. Even when she read those damned letters out loud, I had a suspicious feeling she skipped over certain sections that may have been too sensitive or that I would have personally rejected.

On Sundermount my feelings concerning Anders's conduct was confirmed. The way he moved lacked grace. He kept watching Hawke with a far away expression. When she would turn away from him, his brows would furrow and there was a bittersweetness to his eyes. I could read it, even from afar. Anders wanted her, and it was tearing him up inside.

Hawke and I left our company shortly after and we walked back through Kirkwall's main roads. My mind was still buzzing. My temper was at an edge. Finally, my patience worn thin, I spoke abruptly.

"He's obsessed," I growled under my breath, as we entered Hightown
"I know. I do not believe I will be able to persuade him to see my point of vie-"
"No," I snapped. "I mean, he's obsessed with you."
"I don't thi-"
"You are encouraging him, and you know it."
"... I know."

It was a kick in the head, to hear her confirm my suspicions. She had strung him along for three years, aware that he would obsess over her. But why..? Why did she do it? It made little sense.

"Wait... You planned this."
"... Yes."
"I don't understand... I can't tell if you hate one another or love one another..."
"He loves me, Fenris. This, I am certain. I feel nothing but contempt for him."
"I don't understand, Mary. Why? Why are you doing this?"
"... He is in league with the Mage Underground. I suspect he maybe a figurehead. I... am an apostate hunter. I have many enemies in dark corners. Anders has stayed their hand. I hate him, but I need him if I am going to stay alive and keep my family safe. I have little choice."

Freedom is such a lie. Everyone is a slave in one fashion or another. Anders was a slave to his cause, Hawke was a slave to Anders, and I had become a slave to Hawke. The bitterness of this reality haunted me. I was very near to simply leaving Kirkwall. Very near to just... walking away.

Until my past caught up with me. Danarius' former apprentice perched in front of the exit and denied my escape. I followed Hadriana, dumbly and blindly.

At that point, my hatred for mages, my hatred for current circumstance, and my hatred for everything around me ruined whatever chance I had to leave. I struck a heavy blow, digging my hands into that bitch's heart and feeling it pulse before ripping the arteries and crushing the muscle in one fluid move. Bloodlust overwhelmed me. I used her, and could think of only killing Danarius, Anders, and every other damned mage that haunted my nightmares. And when I turned to leave, Hawke stopped me.

"Fenris. I know this is hard. I know that this must be very difficult. But we can still find your sister and kill Danarius, if you need this."
"As if I had a choice? And even if I found her, who is to say Danarius hasn't already poisoned her against me? What does magic touch that it doesn't spoil?"

Hawke could say nothing but her silence was enough to confirm how deeply I insulted and cut her. Even if she was an Apostate hunter, even if she did everything in her power to stay alive while keeping her head above water, without sacrificing decency or good moral, she was still very much a mage and it was not by choice. I realized if Hawke could, she would strip herself of magic - just as I would be glad to strip myself of my markings.

I disappeared for several days, camping out on Sundermount to collect my thoughts. I felt overwhelmed by it all. The death of Hadriana, the threat of Danarius, the knowledge of my sister's existence, my past, my overwhelming hatred and how I was a slave to it, Anders and those damn letters, and now Hawke who would sign herself away. And for what? Freedom? Is it even my place to say?

With enough courage, I visited her home and waited outside the door. It wasn't until late evening that Hawke entered her home, her robes stained with blood and the smell of cheap ale fixed on her clothing and hair. She was a mess.

"Where were you? I was worried about you!"
"I had to... do some thinking."
"Really, Fenris? You just had to think for five straight days?"
"I had to."
"Without even leaving a kind note? I had no idea where you were! I thought maybe you..."
"Hawke. I am sorry, but I am actually here to say goodbye."
"What...? Why? Where are you going? Where will you go?"
"I am leaving. Goodbye my friend."
"Fenris, please. You don't have to go."

She grabbed my arm as I turned to leave, and it was as if all the rage, all the pain, all the anger I had contained these long years erupted. Hadriana, Danarius, Fog Warriors, Anders, Mages, Tevinter, Slavery... it all erupted at once and I pushed all of this back into the wall, projecting this hatred onto Marian. The blindness of this rage was enough to push me over the edge. I was so close to losing it all but then... I looked up. Hawke watched me, her body tense under my weight. She wasn't frightened by this reproach, but surprised. My heart stopped and I controlled my anger, stepping backwards into confusion and uncertainty as something indescribable washed over me. Hawke sensed my apprehension and she smiled, launched herself against me and pressed her lips over mine.

I recall she tasted like cheap ale. But it was a good taste. Since that night, it has become my favored drink at the Hanged Man.

It took a lot of effort to reach her bedroom. Bodahn whisked Sandal away for fear the sight of our tangled limbs and bodies might ruin the poor boy's innocence. Climbing the stairs was especially difficult and I am very glad her mother is a heavy sleeper. I am not experienced in sex, and even if I were before becoming a Tevinter Saarebas, I have no memory of it. I was so madly in love with Hawke all these years and I had no idea until that moment. How could I know? I know hate, its all I've ever known. Love? Love is alien to me. I knew I was attracted to her, but I passed that away as common infatuation. My concept of love before Hawke was incorrect. I thought love was a compulsive and obsessive emotion. I thought that love was like a poison capable of pushing people to their extremes. Quite the contrary. Love is respect, self sacrifice, and understanding. That is love. And I loved her. I was madly in love with her.

That is why I had to leave her that night.

"Leto. You don't have to do this. You could die. If you aren't killed by the other elves competing with you, the process itself can kill you."
"Don't argue with me, Vanaria. I have little to offer. I am no mage, and this is the only way for you and mother to gain your freedom."
"At what expense, Leto? Your life? And if you don't survive?"
"What choice do we have? It is a sacrifice I am willing to make."

I didn't understand the words or experiences, but something washed over me that had shaken me. Isabela later explained to me that those feelings were called nostalgia. But how can a former slave with wiped memories ever experience nostalgia? I knew that if I were to remain with Hawke, these overwhelming feelings would continue to burden me in a profound and depressing way. They would sour my mood, shake the foundations of what I understood, and potentially ruin me.

How could I stay? I respected Hawke too much to be a burden. I would poison any happy relationship.

I had to leave.

"Fenris, please don't do this."
"I am sorry, Mary. I can't... continue this."
"Then promise me one thing. Don't leave Kirkwall."
"I can't promise anything."

Still, I lingered like a shadow, attached from a distance. While a physical relationship was too much for me, I decided to borrow the antiquated Tevinter custom of courtly love. My love transformed from something physically wanting to a love at once illicit and morally elevating, passionate and disciplined, humiliating and exalting, mortal and transcendent.

"Fenris. Why are you wearing Hawke's shield on your... hip?"
"Its an oath, Isabela."
"An oath to what? Limitless rompings in her bedroom? Is that the Tevinter idea of... friends with benefits?"

It was a promise that I would not leave her side or make false promises and abandon her again. I accepted Hawke's independence and my own failures. It was my mission to make myself worthy of her by acting honorably and by doing whatever deeds she desired. This self subjection of tests was to prove my ardor and commitment to her.

And what ordeals she put me through...

I don't know when it started, I don't even know how the first kiss was exchanged (nor do I want to know), but several months after that night with Marian, I noticed a change in her relationship with Anders. They stopped corresponding through letters alone and they began to work together on short missions that excluded my company. I would pace around my mansion, grease my armor, sharpen my blades, try to distract myself with mundane tasks but I knew Hawke too well and I hated Anders even more. I tried my hand at poetry, but I am not skilled with fanciful words and I am a poor writer, so this attempt went to the dogs. Marian was wise not to visit me at this time, my temper at a boiling point. Rumors must have spread that my anger was teetering on the edge of a cliff, that I was more snappy than usual, more vicious in my killings, because at one point Isabela decided to visit me.

"All that tension... And you waste this energy at home cleaning your sword all by yourself? What a pity."
"Why are you here, Isabela? What do you want?"
"Do you want the frank answer or a fanciful one? You may not like the frank answer."
"Be straight with me, Isabela."
"Well, I'm hardly straight. More bendy."
"... Why are you here?"
"Hawke sent me."
"... What?"
"Actually, to clarify, Hawke sent me to give you a good spanking and a healthy dose of casual sex."
"... What I don't even..."
"Honestly, Fenris. You don't think you are the only one in our company whose had sex with Hawke, do you?"
".. How do you even know that I-"
"Its obvious! The crest? The fact you wear her family sash around your wrist? And what is with the hawk feather tucked in that wrist band, eh? You are acting like a prepubescent boy who does nothing but wank and draw pictures of a country princess all day and night. You need a good shanking."
"... And Hawke sent you?"
"Of course she did. I made for wonderful rebound sex when you left her on her ass. I'll make great rebound sex for you as well. Now, are you in or are you out?"
"I don't know about this..."
"... I also brought four bottles of Avalia Pamunalis with me. I hear its your favorite wine."
"... I could at least use a glass and some company."

The memories did not come back that night. I was drunk on wine and meaningless sex, and my mind went blank. I only focused on the immediate present, and it was what I needed at the time. Clothes strewn across the floor, the smell of sweat, sea water, and alcohol, the warmth of another's body. I laid awake for hours enjoying this moment, gratified and relaxed. Isabela pulled herself off of me, a knowing smile fixed on her lips as she dressed quickly and watched my reaction with dull curiosity. My heart was hardened for another, but my body was loose and at peace.

"I always knew you didn't wear underpants."
"And yet your favorite game was always to guess their color."
"Mmmmm... Ever thought of leaving Kirkwall, Fenris? Taking off? You know... you may have that option in the future. Its only a matter of time until I get my hands on a new ship..."
"... I have too many ties here. I can't leave, Isabela."
"Of course you can."
"I really can't."
"... Dear maker, get over yourself. This obsession is pathetic."
"Do not simplify my feelings, Isabela."
"It is. Every time I talk to you, its 'Hawke this' and 'Hawke that' and 'My past!' and 'I hate people so much that I have to stay and wallow in hate forever.' Let it go, Fenris."
"How? I have no memories except anger, hatred, regret, and pain. That is all I have, and the only goodness in my life has been with Hawke and now she's gone."
"Its for the best, Fenris. If she didn't have Anders move in with her-"
"... What?"
"Oh maker, no one told you? You didn't know? Oh, Isabela... You and your big mouth..."

I dressed and left in a hurry. I practically knocked the Hawke estate's door down as my mind raged. Typically, I am calm and collected. I maintain a facade of stoicism, but that is only to contain a tempest of emotion that ruins me. At that time, I felt thoroughly ruined. She answered the door herself and invited me into the estate. I said nothing as she drew me into the library and locked the door behind her to prevent interruption from the other estate's occupants. It was as if Hawke had expected me, already offering me a bottle of wine that I gladly took and swallowed in large fills. Calmly, she sat down at her desk and watched me with tired eyes.

"Isabela told you."
"What did you expect? You sent her!"
"... What, Fenris? What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing."

She stayed there, watching as I drank and offering another bottle when one was finished. Empty wine bottles were strewn on the ground, and my head pounded as the excitement waned - dulled by alcohol and apathy. Finally I spoke, drunk and stupid. But wine loosens the tongue of those who have hardened hearts.

"You are using him," I muttered drunkenly.
"No more than he is using me."
"I doubt he sees it as such."
"... Anders may not see through the act, but I imagine Justice is aware of my plot. Else, he would not allow Anders to live with me. Anders may not be using me, but Justice is."
"The abomination shares your house and your bed now, does he?"
"Fenris. He is the only person keeping the mage underground from poisoning my drink. And my home is the only way I can safeguard him from templars."

My soul felt heavy with these confessions.

"... Do you love him?"
"No."
"But he loves you."
"Yes."

I watched her with blurred vision. I felt so numb, but I still don't regret what came next.

"... Perhaps it was wise that I stopped our relationship when I did."
"Fenris.." She replied, her voice trembling. "You know I still love you."
"But not as much as you hate him."
"Please. Fenris."
"A drink. To mutually beneficial relationships."

And I raised my bottle and finished it and any dreams I had with her in them.

For months, I watched them with detachment. My resentment of Anders grew, and I fell into the trap of jealousy. I reminisced on those long nights Hawke spent with me, simple conversation keeping interest in our shared company. Isabela mocked my obsession, comparing it to Merrill's own ties with that damned mirror. 'It'll kill you in the end, you know..' the pirate reminded me, when she arrived at my bed with the sway of hips and a dark smile. Isabela drew me in and swallowed me whole, and I was addicted to the pirate's cure-all for a broken heart. But I still wore Hawke's shield and swore loyalty to her. It was all she would allow me to give her. Bickering with Anders began to wane. I was prodded to react every damn time he reminded me of his revolutionist folly, but spitting out insults lost the luster they once had. I was defeated by their mutual arrangement, and I could bare his company no longer.

Hawke still invited me on private missions, requesting I act as an escort and inviting no one else on our travels. A part of me was weary and I felt used, but then I'd look back at Marian and realize her situation was more dire than I imagined. She was pale and her body slack, her movements lacked fluidity and her spells were weaker than usual. Hawke seemed to loose sense of her former self, and it killed me inside. Marian's sarcasm felt forced, and her laughter was sad. It was, for lack of a better word, pathetic.

"Mary, I know a slave when I see one. And right now, I am looking at one."
"Please, Fenris."
"Do not claim to be in control."
"And do not claim I am a passive child in this arrangement! I am the one who organized it! He is as much a slave to these circumstances as I!"
"How far can it go, Marian? Just how far can it go before your own restraints strangle you alive?"

That was the last time I spoke on the subject.

I thought I was resigned to my fate. I thought that I had lost everything good, and was cornered in this damned city. I blamed mages. I still blame mages. Was it not enough that magic had to rape and ruin my memory, my sense of self, and my emotional well being that it also had to take away my happiness and purpose? Still, I stayed there, chained by circumstance, a slave to my own hatred and loyalty. I suppose I shifted my motivations from Hawke to Danarius, preparing myself for an inevitable showdown that could take years. I was tempted to leave, to track him down, but the best traps are laid in familiar territory. So I stayed.

And then it happened. Hope.

"The circle, templars, chantry... Are there no fail safes?"
"The Qun, perhaps."
"The Qun?"
"Saarebas. If you chain a man before he can become a killer, it solves everything. I believe in the Saarebas, the chained Qunari mages. And the Arvaarad, those who wield those chains."
"You would have me chained and my tongue cut out, Fenris?"
"That... is not necessary. You have already chained yourself."
"You were there, Fenris... You saw what magic did to her. My mother was only last tie to Kirkwall. I have... nothing here."
"Whatever I can say is insufficient. I do not know what it is like to lose a loved one. But... I do know opportunity when I see it."
"... What do you mean?"
"Come with me, Hawke. You have nothing here. Leave with me."
"... Let me gather my things."

It was brief and fleeting. I felt whole and happy. I packed my supplies and waited at her door, offering a way to freedom for the both of us, away from this damned city.

I waited patiently. I waited long into the night. I waited until sunrise. I waited as Bodahn offered me breakfast. I waited as Anders left the house. I waited as he nodded curtly at me and smiled privately to himself. I waited as Hawke finally approached me. I waited as she sighed.

"Fenris. I can't go."

Still, I did not let go of hope. I stayed at her side, loyal, with my belongings packed, ready to leave should she ask. I stayed when the Qunari struck the city, burning the docks and murdering Hightown. Isabela even approached me in the chaos, Koslun's holy tome held closely against her chest as she implored me with deep golden eyes and the fear of the Maker in her.

"Fenris, come with me. Let's leave this mess. Let's just... go."
"I won't leave without her."
"Your loyalty be damned! She doesn't love you anymore, she's in love with Anders! You have nothing left here. Now for Andraste's ass's sake, let's get OUT of here."
"Isabela. I swore an oath. I cannot leave."

And so I didn't leave. Surprisingly, neither did she. Isabela groaned, complained, and wailed as we marched together into the Viscount's court, cursing friendship and the evils of getting yourself killed for the skin of another. I was genuinely surprised that the pirate remained at my side. Perhaps my loyalty moved her in some way, I cannot say. All I know is that Isabela followed me back to find Marian engaged with the Qunari, at the risk of punishment and death.

What happened afterwards is left to legends and story tellers. Marian returned the holy tome, killed the Arishok, and became the Champion. More importantly, Marian went back to Anders.

Magic has taken everything from me, including hope.

And here I am now, three years later, watching my city torn asunder by civil war catalyzed by that damned abomination. I can do little but gaze in wonder and think back on these experiences that have molded me into what I am now. I offered to tear out Anders's heart myself, to give myself some peace of mind, but Marian would not allow it. Instead, she planted the knife into his chest. It was her right, not mine. But I would have felt such gratification and joy if I ripped him piece by piece myself.

I warned her for years that Anders would destroy her. I warned her for years not to get too close to him, not to trust him. Threatened mages are always tempted to great evils, and Anders was no exception to this rule. His actions for the rights of all mages have doomed innocent lives. He was no martyr, but a murderer, drunk with ambition and idiocy. And he has pulled us into this war he created.

Hawke watches me, and I expect her to make the right choice.

"I side with the Mages."

But she breaks my heart again with another poor decision.

"I don't know if I can do this..." I say outloud. I have sworn oathes, made promises, shown my loyalty, and loved her so deeply but Hawke is asking me to go beyond what I maybe capable of.

It is a terrible choice.

Do I fight for a cause I hate? Or, do I live in a world without Hawke?

"You don't have a choice, Fenris," Marian replies calmly, stepping over the rubble and towards me. "More than anyone, I need you for this."

"You treat me as if I am a slave, as if you are my mistress! You speak to me as if my fate is yours to decide! Haven't I done enough for you? Haven't I sacrificed everything for you? My happiness, my life, my heart, my soul... everything, and you have torn it asunder and thrown it on the ground. And for what? To what end? This?"

My outburst surprises our company, but I've kept my anger in for too many years. I stride towards her, press my chest into hers as I close in the distance between us and shout in her face, "This is your own ruin, Hawke. I refuse to sink with you this time. I am done here."

I move away quickly, mind bristling in anger and fury. I feel her hand grasp my arm. I turn abruptly and push her into the wall. How strange the past should repeat itself, where once this action was the beginning of everything and now I feel this is the closure of it all.

"Fenris. You don't have a choice. You must stay," Hawke implores, tense under my hands. "I need you to be my Arvaarad. I need you to hold my leash."

My heart stops and I see her with new eyes.

An Arvaarad... She would have me leash her...

My feelings, my rage, my hatred, all of these emotions that have worn my soul to pieces lift away, replaced by absolution and understanding. So this is it. This is what I am. This is what I always was. This is my purpose, my meaning, my sense of self. It is no wonder anger had dogged me for so long, I never had a role to fulfill, and like a blessing, Marian reveals it.

Truly, this is what I was made for. Even now, these lyrium scars that brand my skin... I am an effective mage killer.

"We both know what mages are capable of," Hawke clarifies, her voice finding strength. "I have made Anders an example of what a mage should never be. I must be the better example. I must be an icon. I must be what every mage must strive to be. And no mage should ever have the option of absolute freedom. There must be a fail safe. You must be my fail safe. I need you to be my Arvaarad. I need you to be my Templar. I need you as the sword that will cut me should I step out of line."

Hawke raises her hands and braces my face, nodding as I swallow her words. "You must do this for me, Fenris. No one else can."

Slowly, I nod.

I understand.

This is what I was meant to do. I am no slave, no toy, no little wolf. I was created to be an effective mage killer, and for years my hatred of magic has trained my senses to engage in abominations, demons, blood mages, the worst evils. A peace settles my mind, and I can feel my anger wane. This is my role in life. I am an Arvaarad. I am a Templar. I am the chains that bind mages. I am that fail safe.

Freedom always comes at a price. No one ever has it, they fool themselves into thinking they do. If laws don't bind us, our emotions do, our feelings, the people we love, the people we hate. We ruin ourselves. We make slaves out of ourselves, pulled by different desires, feelings, duties. I ran away from slavery only to become a slave of responsibility. But we are all tied to one another, in deeply profound ways. Perhaps sacrificing a little bit of freedom isn't so bad if it means gaining something even better in return. She is chained to me, and I to her. We need one another.

I love Hawke.

I've always loved her.

She has given me purpose all my life, and now that purpose is clearly defined.

I've always had purpose, I just didn't see it.

In return, I've always protected her.

And now I must protect her from herself, should it come to that.

A lover's strike is kinder than a hateful one. I can only hope that day does not come, but I will prepare myself if it should.

That is my duty.

That is my oath.

That is my purpose.

Author's Notes:

This is a sequel / spin-off / stand alone from Heavy in your Arms.

Relationships are complicated, especially six years of them. I always wondered why Fenris chose to stay in Kirkwall. Its not like he really had a life there.

This is also my attempt to justify Fenris decided to go all pro-mage at the end of the game. I'm sorry, no matter how many times I play it - and I don't care HOW loyal he is - it just doesn't make sense that Fenris sides with mages. He HATES them. All he does is talk about HATING them. So, I try to justify it.

I look forward to writing Isabela next.

She's a fun romp in the park. Get away from these crazy characters. We need more smex!