Hello everyone! I'll keep this short: the storyline doesn't strictly obey in-game rules and happenings – it's my take on Fenris' past and persona. Enjoy! Reviews are hugely appreciated, much love to them!
Bioware own everything I am writing about (apart from Asya), but what's a little sharing huh?
1. Warmth
A trickle of blood slowly slid from the palm of her hand to her fingertip,
dripping onto the dusty wooden floor.
Her eyes were wide in the dimly lit room.
She clenched all her muscles, straining her long pointy ears to hear if there were more coming.
The mansion was silent.
Her heart was pounding so loudly she feared someone from next-door might hear it and call the guards. She brushed her hands on her thighs and turned to face the door, making her way towards it in an almost cat-like manner, brushing past the dead bodies on the floor with disgust.
Slavers, she thought, may you all rot in hell.
She walked out onto the street and quickly started walking. She was covered in blood. It was dark, and nobody would probably notice anyway, being as she was in Lowtown. She kept her eyes down so as to not attract anyone's attention and walked into the inn. It was packed. Good, she thought to herself. That way she wouldn't get noticed. She walked straight up the stairs, trying to avoid a mass of drunken men starting a brawl.
She entered her room quickly and shut the door behind her, leaning on it and letting out a long sigh of relief. Safe. More or less.
The bathing facilities in the Hanged Man were very basic, but she'd been used to bathing in a freezing cold river up until then, so it was good enough for her. She undressed and slipped into a loose linen nightshirt as she started to un-crust her clothing from blood. Her long silver hair shone oddly red in the candlelight. She'd have to wash it thoroughly as well.
There was quite a lot more noise than usual in the Hanged Man that evening, Hawke and Isabela were practically yelling at each other from across the table. But he wasn't paying attention anyway.
"Are you all right, Elf?" he heard Varric say drunkenly, his half-empty flask of mead held askew in his hand.
"I'm fine" said Fenris, attempting a smirk "you, however, do not seem to be so" he added, as Varric tried to focus on him, looking at him in what he must have thought was a scrutinizing look.
"You look.. weird" said the dwarf, trying to maintain his balance and focus on the elf at the same time.
"I'm fine" Fenris repeated, turning away.
It was a lie. "I'd best be off" he said to nobody, as he elegantly rose from his seat and turned to face his companions.
Isabela and Hawke were absorbed in a very loud conversation about what he understood to be whips. He dared not investigate. "I will see you soon, have a good evening" he said to Varric, who looked at him, slightly confused, and grunted back a reply. "Bloody broody elf" he muttered to himself, as he watched Fenris walk out of the Hanged Man.
[...]
The Hightown mansion was cold and dark as always.
Fenris walked up the stairs to his room and tentatively poked the last embers in the fireplace, willing them to spark into life. But they didn't. He let out a sigh and grabbed the firestone from the mantelpiece. As he tried to get the fire going, his mind started to trail off again.
He had sensed something odd back in the inn. Just for a few seconds. A presence. He had experienced nothing like it before, in his memory at least. It felt like something familiar, yet he could not place it anywhere. It felt warm.
Fenris swore loudly.
He had burned himself.