Moments in Time: Brief Encounters: Prologue

Unmet expectations

Hawke shouldered her way through the mansion's front door and out into the warm night. She was alone in her search, but didn't care she was too angry. Pausing to scan her surroundings, she took a moment to enjoy the freshness of the air. It was truly welcome after the physical onslaught just endured. The thinness of the Veil inside the mansion had left her feeling heady.

Hawke saw him then - though Maker knows how - crouched in the shadows of the public garden not far away. He would have been totally invisible clad in his strange dark armour, but his shock of white hair kept catching the moonlight. His back was to her as he leaned forward, obviously labouring over something. She made toward him, swiftly realising that he was attempting to clean his sword in the garden's ornate pond.

"Fenris?" she asked, keeping her tone diplomatic in spite of her annoyance. His head turned fractionally toward her, but that was the only response he gave - unless she were to acknowledge the audible growl. He reached into his belt pack retrieving a rough piece of cloth and tried to wipe the remaining ichor from his blade, cursing continuously under his breath as the substance refused to budge. Hawke folded her arms across her chest and waited.

A few more heated words later and Fenris gave up on his sword altogether. With practised ease he hefted it over his shoulder and slid it back into the sheath strapped to his back. He looked at his hands then, also covered in the same sticky residue, and set about trying to clean them instead. When he finally stood up, deigning to look at her as he shook them dry, Hawke arched her eyebrows at him questioningly.

His responding black look said it all, though she had to admit, it wasn't anything in comparison to the outraged expression she had already earned from him, witnessing her powers for what she realised now, had been the first time. The memory of that look was likely to stay with her for life.

Could she help that her being a mage wasn't immediately obvious?

Well, yes, but having spent her life thus far pretending and hiding what she was from the world, acknowledging her abilities openly went somewhat against the grain.

Still, in her eagerness to help him, she hadn't fully grasped the obvious importance of such an admission given the circumstance. He's an escaped slave for Maker's sake, the lost property of a powerful Magister. How could I have been so stupid? Now, it was too late. To make matters worse, Fenris's momentary distraction with her in the heat of battle had allowed a demon to claw at his flank and tear open his arm.

The poultice he'd applied – having ignored Hawke's offer to heal it for him - appeared sound at least. No doubt he'd had plenty of practise applying them prior to this evening. Maker only knew what he'd been through. Hawke swiftly reined in her compassionate nature, reminding herself of how Fenris had pissed her off. If he'd been minding his surroundings rather than staring furiously at me like I'd betrayed him in the worst possible manner the damn poultice wouldn't have been necessary. She stubbornly wondered if she shouldn't just heal his arm anyway.

What's he going to do, run me through? She laughed inwardly, and swiftly thought,Yes, that's exactly what he'll do if I give him the slightest reason, which healing him without permission might just qualify as. She really didn't want to be on the receiving end of that punching thing he could do either. She winced at the thought, her hand reflexively covering her chest - like it would make a difference.

He shifted his weight, clearly uneasy under her prolonged gaze. The part of her that was confused and irritated by his profound contempt found the reaction quite satisfying. Bitten by a sudden need to show how un-intimidated she was by his dark, forbidding presence - whether true or not - Hawke leaned past him, kneeling down at the water's edge and dappled the clear surface with her fingers. Her eyes never left his reflection.

He remained still and watchful, perhaps wondering at her sanity for putting herself in such a vulnerable position. Certainly, if running her through was what he intended he'd have no difficulty. Thankfully, that didn't appear to be the plan - yet.

"Venhedis," Fenris snarled suddenly. It sounded like swear, though Hawke couldn't be sure as she cursed herself for jumping, hoping he hadn't noticed. "It never ends."

She righted herself, trying to exude an air of confidence as she looked at him; briefly captivated by the tattoo-like markings over his hands glowing faintly as he tugged his clawed gauntlets back on.

"I escaped a land of dark magic, only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul, and now…" Fenris's elven eyes bored into hers and the intensity of his loathing stole Hawke's breath away, "I find myself in the company of yet another mage."

Her heart thumped too awkwardly to respond at first, fearing for its continued existence.

"I should have realised sooner," he said, berating himself as he turned away.

Hawke's eyes narrowed. "You sound as if I set out to intentionally mislead you. I did not," she declared, finding her voice. "If you formed an opinion without any real information, how can I be to blame if my being a mage comes as a surprise to you?"

He gestured angrily, waving away her words. "But what manner of mage are you?" he questioned. "What do you seek?"

"Why should anything beyond me willingly aiding you tonight be important?"

"Because of what you are," he growled, pacing animatedly; obviously feeling such a statement was enough explanation.

"And, you evidently have an issue with that," Hawke replied.

"I have an issue with magic and those who are careless with it."

"As do I," she agreed, ignoring the way Fenris scoffed in disbelief. "I would hope, though shocking as my use of magic has obviously been to you, that I have not come across as careless. I certainly don't remember you objecting too strenuously… whilst we were fighting at any rate."

Fenris paused and looked at her again, for longer this time, searchingly. "You are skilled, that much is clear," he conceded grudgingly, shaking his head like such an idea was either preposterous or disturbing in the extreme. Probably both, Hawke thought.

"A fine concession, but you say as much, and yet, won't let me heal you." She gestured to his injured arm. "Does magic not have its uses to you, at least in that respect?"

"I'm not blind," he answered coldly.

Hawke took a tentative step closer. Instantly he moved to keep the distance between them.

"You recoil from me like I'm no better than a demon myself." Fenris scowled at her. "That's actually what you think, isn't it?" Hawke surmised, the realisation cutting deeper than she thought possible. "Well, how stupid of me for thinking my helping you tonight might have gone some way to earning a new ally." She lifted her hands in exasperation. "Would it have made any difference if I'd worn a 'look out, I'm a mage, demon possession imminent' sign?"

Fenris stared at her incredulously. She knew it had been a petulant thing to say, but couldn't help it, and she was almost certain she'd seen a flicker of amusement cross over his stony, annoyingly handsome, face.

With a frustrated sigh, Hawke rested her hands on her hips and looked skyward. "Magic is only as dark as its user, as is the way with any other weapon, steel or otherwise."

"Easily said," Fenris countered.

"You really think so?" she asked, not looking at him.

"At least I may put my sword down."

Hawke closed her eyes thoughtfully. "Your experience of other mages must have been truly terrible."

"My experience has been… extensive," Fenris growled, "but it's of no consequence. I don't need your pity, mage."

"My name is Hawke, if you've forgotten," she reminded, irritably, "and I don't pity you Fenris. Maker, I wouldn't know how to, not that I'm incapable, but it's my understanding that such feelings are best reserved for the helpless, and you are anything but."

"Hawke!?"

Both of them looked up to see Varric and Carver emerging from the overgrown mansion doorway looking thoroughly shattered and loaded down with what loot they'd been able to find. Though Fenris had told them to do so, something in the sight made Hawke really wished they hadn't.

"Here, Varric!" she responded, waving to draw his attention.

"Just needed some air, too, I see," Varric chuckled, venturing over. Hawke half smiled, uncertain. "Everything okay?" he asked, his eyes lingering on where Fenris now leant back against a far wall, a picture of 'brooding' nonchalance.

"No, I don't think it is," Hawke answered truthfully. "Can you give me a minute?"

Varric nodded and made to leave, but Carver had no such inclination. Instead, he pushed passed her, parading toward Fenris in a manner that would have shamed a cockerel. "If you have a problem with my sister, then you have a problem with me," he stated, and Hawke grimaced. Fenris couldn't have looked less concerned by the threat her brother posed, appearing almost bored as he loosely folded his arms across his chest. His quiet confidence filled Hawke with dread.

"Enough, Carver," she said, jumping in front of her brother and pushing him back. "Stand down," she ordered, returning his resulting scowl with one of her own. "Please, just… don't."

He shrugged away from her touch, his pride taking another hit from her apparent over-concern and marched away without a word, stomping down the near steps to the Chantry Square.

Hawke watched him go, fighting the urge to run after him and ring his blighted neck for being so childish, and yet, felt immensely grateful that he was now out of the heart-crushing reach of the elf stood behind her. She looked briefly at Varric, imploring.

"I got it, Hawke," he said, and immediately made after her brother.

In the silence that followed Hawke knew she needed to say something, that Fenris was waiting, but she couldn't think how to begin.

Unexpectedly, he spoke first, though his sarcasm could not be denied. "Such loyalty, I remember it well."

"You don't think it's reciprocated?" Hawke asked, watching as he pushed off from the wall and stalked toward her.

"In Tevinter the Magister's hold all the power, over the Chantry, over the Imperial Court, over life itself. I've seen many crimes committed at the hands of mages in the name of anything they care to give credence to. And the few," his eyes trained on her as he spoke, "who claim to be different, claim to be innocent, danger undoubtedly always finds them. So tell me, why should I think it's reciprocated? Why should I believe you are any less a danger than any other mage I've known? Or that your companions aren't merely fools for harbouring you instead of handing you over to the Circle where you belong."

Fenris was right beside her now, his marginal height advantage leaving her to feel three feet tall under the weight of such mistrust and hate. The searing anger that had sent her racing after him initially was resurfacing at the injustice of it all. His attitude - not only toward her, but her companions - had been abysmal in light of what they'd been willing to help him do. He had no right to stand there openly detesting her and accuse her of being anything. He didn't know her.

"You're looking at me as if I've claimed to be different. That I've defied what you know to be true of mages and then gone against my word, but I haven't said anything. I don't claim to be different, Fenris, because I don't owe you an explanation or an apology for who I am. You're so determined to liken me to these Magisters, but would any of them have agreed to help you tonight."

"If it suited them… if they'd stood to gain something."

"And what exactly was I standing to gain fromthis?" Hawke pointed to each of them, quickly highlighting the alliance they had agreed to. "Besides a colossal headache, that is."

"I already said I would find some way to repay you," Fenris answered, misinterpreting her question; his expression darkening further. Being indebted to her was evidently not something he relished. "Here," he said, thrusting a small bag of coin toward her, "it's all I have for now, and everything Anso promised."

Hawke shook her head. "I don't want your money, Fenris. It wasn't why I helped you."

"Just take it," he snapped, throwing her the bag forcing her to catch it. "It's the only payment you'll get." That said he turned toward the mansion.

Hawke was momentarily stunned, staring after him, seething at the assumption she had expected any other form of 'payment' - if anything at all.

"And just what was that supposed to mean?" she demanded, storming after him. "Fenris?" She reached out to grab him and instantly he recoiled, wrenching his arm out of her reach.

"Don't touch me!" he threatened, spinning to face her, his form beginning to glow ominously blue.

Hawke lifted her palms to allay him, but he continued to loom over her. "You asked for my help, Fenris, not the other way round," she said calmly, refusing to back away despite wanting to, desperately. "I haven't asked for anything from you, least of all what you were insinuating with that parting shot." Fenris's expression appeared briefly shocked as he considered her, his dark brows knotting together. "That I would demand or expect something of you personally, is that truly what you expected? Is that normal where you've come from?"

They stared at one another long and hard, neither willing to back down, but eventually whatever Fenris saw in Hawke's eyes was enough for him to concede the point. He sighed, letting his shoulders relax marginally.

"Whatever I believe, whatever I know to be true of mages, I realise you have helped me tonight and that you have not asked for anything in return. I am not, however it might appear, ungrateful." Hawke lowered her guard and stepped away.

Fenris watched her retreat, his face sceptical, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was looking at. "You are not, Danarius," he added.

"Glad you noticed," Hawke muttered.

"Whether you are truly nothing like him remains to be seen."

She nodded, gravely. "I guess I'll have to live with that, for now."