Kirkwall – Hawke Estate

Kaiden sat on the edge of his bed, naked, his head in his hands. What had he done? The moment had seemed right and he'd thought Fenris... No, he'd stopped thinking the moment Fenris had shoved him against the wall and kissed him.

Over the past months, things had appeared to be progressing well. Fenris had been accompanying him on more of his missions, and then there were the long talks over bottles of wine, the reading lessons… Sure, they still argued about mages and magic, but… Fenris had seemed more relaxed. He had been gradually opening up to Kaiden.

So in true Kaiden Hawke fashion, he had charged ahead and taken things from first kiss to full-on sex in less than an hour. Yet… hadn't Fenris wanted that as well? He recalled the hunger with which the elf had kissed him, the way he responded when Kaiden caressed those lyrium markings with his tongue. Fenris had seemed every bit as starved for it as Kaiden, and he suspected that the elf had gone without far longer than he had.

Kaiden would have been willing to wait much longer. There was something about Fenris… or maybe it was everything about Fenris. From their first meeting, Kaiden had felt drawn to the exotically beautiful elf. He admired the strength and tenacity it had taken for Fenris to survive on his own in foreign lands, constantly hunted. As he had gotten to know the elf better, Kaiden had found that Fenris also possessed a keen intelligence and wit. He loved that small smile the elf would get, the way he laughed on the rare occasion he let himself relax enough to do so, and those eyes… Maker… For the first time in his life, there was no one else Kaiden wanted to be with. Holding Fenris had felt so good, so right. Kaiden had felt complete, like he hadn't since he was a kid with his whole family alive and together.

Evidently it hadn't been that way for Fenris. Was it only the memories? Several times he had looked distant, not fully present despite Kaiden's best efforts. Kaiden had wanted to replace bad memories, to banish the shadows that darkened those green eyes, but instead, it seemed he had only made Fenris relive… whatever had been done to him. Kaiden's hands clenched into fists and the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Somehow, he was going to find this Danarius and fucking kill him, but only after he'd made the bastard suffer for hurting Fenris.

Kaiden shivered, as much from anger as cold. Raising a hand, he sent a burst of flame into the fireplace. Then he was seeing Fenris at the hearth again, standing with his back to him. i"This should never have happened."/i He'd hardly looked at Kaiden, not even when he'd walked out the door.

Kaiden couldn't swallow past the tightness in his chest. He'd ruined it. Fenris was disgusted with himself for being with Kaiden, as if he'd willingly returned to Danarius. Was that how Fenris saw him? The thought made him sick.

Kaiden shoved himself off the bed and yanked open the wardrobe. Grabbing something that might be practical for travel, he started pulling it on. Everything hurt. His body reminded him that he'd had nothing to eat and very little sleep since yesterday's fight with the templars. He had no desire for either.

As quietly as possible, he stepped out of his room and descended the stairs to the main floor. He was in no mood to speak to anyone. It was quite late, or very early, and the rest of his household was still in bed. An accented female voice froze him in his tracks. "Good morning, Master."

Kaiden whipped around to see the elven girl – Orana was her name – whom they had freed from Hadriana yesterday. "Don't call me that." It came out rougher than he'd intended.

"I… I'm sorry…" She looked so scared and pitiful, making Kaiden feel like even more of a monster.

"No, don't… I… it's not your fault. Just call me Kaiden. I'm not your master. No one is. You're free."

This appeared to only upset her more. "You wish for me to leave?"

"No. I mean, you can if you want, but you are welcome stay here. If you wish, you can work for me. I will pay you."

She brightened. "What shall I do, m- Kaiden?"

He smiled for her sake as he tried to think of what he would hire someone to do. Answer his mail and make appointments? Yet she probably couldn't read… Then he recalled that he was supposed to help Anders in the clinic today. "Do you know anything about healing?"

"I can dress wounds and mix potions."

"Perfect! I would appreciate it if you would help my friend Anders in the clinic. Tell him… tell him I'm sorry that I couldn't make it."

She bowed her head. "As you wish."

While her deference still made him uncomfortable, it wasn't fair to expect her to change completely overnight. He told her how to get to Anders' clinic through the passage under the mansion – he certainly didn't want her wandering around Darktown alone. After leaving a note for Bodahn to set her up with a room and anything else she might need, he took his staff and left for the Wounded Coast.


Kirkwall – A Borrowed Mansion

Fenris decided that it was time for him to leave Kirkwall, at least half-a-dozen times, yet he was still here, in the room which he had made his residence. Now his head was painfully lucid. At least a day had passed since he'd consumed the last of the alcohol. He didn't know how many days he'd spent in his mansion since that night with Kaiden. It still felt like yesterday, and yet at the same time, like something from another life that was not his own.

What had he thought would happen after having sex with Kaiden? Well, not that he'd thought that would ever actually happen… Had he thought they could just get it out of their systems? Curiosity sated, that they could move on? Isn't that what normal people did? What Kaiden had done before him? Yet, the thought of Kaiden being with anyone else now made Fenris want to break something.

That night had been at once far better and far worse than he had imagined. He had not realized his past lay in so shallow a grave. What Danarius had done to him… it was years ago. He'd thought that he'd put it behind him. Yet it was still there, part of the hatred corroding what was left of him. Even more disturbing were those other memories, pieces of himself that he had thought lost forever. He had recalled his past – he knew it – but it was gone now, just out of reach. It was a mirage at the borders of his mind, taunting him. Even now he would almost remember something, a face, a dark-haired boy who… then when he tried to recall it, it would be gone.

Maybe it would be easier if that night had only been worse, just one more thing that he did not want to remember. Then perhaps he could be rid of this accursed yearning for that red-haired mage. Yet it had not been all bad; it had been far better than he had dreamed possible. Kaiden hadn't just had sex with him; Kaiden had made love to him. Fenris had always thought that term to be mere euphemism for fucking, and yet… Kaiden had been more concerned for Fenris's pleasure than his own. The way the man had touched him, Maker… He wondered if Kaiden was like that with everyone. Fenris could not bring himself to think so. But what did that mean? Fenris didn't want to be tied to anyone ever again, least of all a mage. And while he knew humans found him attractive, what more could someone like Kaiden possibly see in him? It could never happen. Fasta vass. Such thoughts were foolish.

Raising a hand to his head, he noticed the red sash tied around his arm. He had to stare at it for several moments before he remembered tying it around his wrist in Kaiden's bedroom. He couldn't have said why he'd taken it.

i"I'm here for you, Fenris."/i Closing his eyes, he brought the red sash to his face. It still smelled faintly of Kaiden. More than anything, he wanted the man's arms around him again, to feel safe and… He stood abruptly, then leaned against a wall as a dizzying wave of nausea washed over him. Once his vision cleared, he walked over to the desk where he had started several letters to Varania while fairly sober. He frowned at one that was hardly legible. Well, not all of them apparently. Skimming the pages he had written, he tossed those that displeased him into the hearth. They would make for good kindling later. Once he'd found a draft that met his approval, he set about rewriting it, carefully forming each letter. Then he was recalling Kaiden showing him how to do it. He was seeing those elegant fingers wielding the pen with swift sure strokes, the way one moves through a sword kata.

He decided that the previous draft was good enough and folded it into an envelope. Varric would know how to get the letter to his… sister. The thought still took getting used to. Perhaps if he could reclaim some part of his past, he could finally move on.


Tevinter

"Varania!"

Varania jumped, causing her needle to slip through the tunic she was mending and into her finger. Quickly withdrawing her hand lest she stain the blue cloth, she pressed her thumb over the injury and released her healing magic. It felt good – not so much the healing of a minor hurt as having a rare outlet for her magic.

Standing from her bench, she looked over the barrels of tubers, apples, and other victuals to the entrance of the common workroom. One of the young elven slaves stood in the doorway. "Come! Master Ahriman demands your presence!"

Varania froze. She knew why Ahriman ordered the presence of any of his female staff and she had tried her best to be beneath his notice. She felt suddenly lightheaded and wished she would pass out. How else could she avoid going? While she wasn't a slave, the Imperium would turn a blind eye to anything a magister might wish to do with his elven servants. Desperately, she looked around at the other slaves and servants, but they kept their heads bowed to their work. And why shouldn't they? Had not she done the same? There was nothing any of them could do.

The girl in the doorway huffed. "Come on! We can't keep him waiting!"

Making Ahriman wait would not help anything. Numbly, Varania placed her work on the bench and crossed the workroom to follow the girl through the narrow corridor past the kitchen and into the courtyard at the heart of the villa. The air was noticeably fresher in the courtyard and the tiny ceramic tiles were cool against her bare feet. Around the garden, the tiles were arranged in colorful mosaics depicting flowers, animals, and half-dressed women of several races. Varania thought it fitting that Ahriman would have beauty displayed underfoot where he could walk on it.

When she was led not to Ahriman's living quarters, but instead down the hallway to the atrium, Varania let out a sigh of relief. At the entrance to the atrium, her escort stopped and stood to the side, her head bowed. Accustomed to using the servants' entrance, Varania rarely saw the atrium and was again struck by the cold austerity of the room. The only adornment was the four fluted columns which stood at the corners of the square pool in the center of the atrium. Above the pool, a matching square opening in the roof let in the afternoon sunlight. It glinted off the shallow water, making the rest of the room seem dark in comparison. On the other side of the pool, Ahriman appeared to be little more than a shadow. Another shadow stood beside him and from the apparent lack of deference, Varania guessed that it was another magister.

Varania wondered if they could hear her heartbeat from across the room. Deciding not to approach any closer than necessary, she knelt before the pool across from the shadowy figures. She knew that at this angle the sunlight would cast harsh shadows across her face, making her pale features appear gaunt and her eyes pools of darkness. "You summoned me, Master?"

Ahriman did not deem to reply to her but instead spoke to the stranger. "I'll leave her to you." The shadows moved around the pool and then Varania heard Ahriman and the elven girl walking down the hallway behind her, back toward the main courtyard. Trepidation heightened again to fear as she wondered what the unknown magister wanted with her.

She nearly jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. The stranger's voice was firm, yet not unkind. "Rise, my child. You are not slave, but liberati, and have the potential to be more."

Lifting her head, she dared a glance at the man's face. She could make out little in the dim light besides his dark gray hair and beard, but he was smiling at her, kindly, not the lecherous smile of Ahriman. "What do you wish of me, Magister?"

He extended a hand to her and she took it, disconcerted by this unexpected courtesy. As he helped her to her feet, he watched her face expectantly. "Do you not recognize me? I know you were but a girl-"

All at once she recognized her former master, the man whose household she had been born into. It was the only place she had ever been happy. "Danarius!" Immediately, Varania was chagrined to have interrupted him and blurted his name without title, but the magister only smiled.

"Yes, my dear. You've grown into a lovely woman, so much like your mother. Tell me, how is she?"

"She… died, many years ago… not long after…" Her mother had passed soon after they had been cast from their home in Danarius's mansion at the behest of her brother. Time had done little to dull the pain. Varania had learned early what "freedom" really meant. It was not the dream so many slaves cherished. It meant homelessness, destitution and having no one to protect you.

Danarius frowned. "It grieves me to hear this. To be alone so young… why did you not return? I would have helped you."

"I tried. Leto… he pretended not to know me. He wouldn't even let me approach you."

Danarius shook his head. "I should have seen it. Leto was jealous of your emerging magical talents."

"You knew?"

"Of course, my dear. I had intended to train you, but I had promised the winner whatever boon they requested." Danarius was speaking of the matches he had arranged to select his personal bodyguard. In addition to the boon, the winner had been given a magnificent suit of armor and great power in the form of magical tattoos. Leto had won the competition. Although still a teenager, he was already a skilled swordsman and tenacious fighter. Varania remembered looking up to her big brother, trusting him to protect her. Then he had betrayed her.

Varania had not thought that she could feel more bitterness, but this was just one more thing that Leto had taken from her. She had lost her home, her mother, and apparently, even the opportunity to use her magic.

"I recall you had natural ability with the creation school of magic."

Varania struggled to bring her thoughts back to the present. "I… a little."

Danarius pointed out a beetle crawling up one of the pillars. "You see this insect?" Varania nodded. "Now, imagine yourself as a spider. Focus on creating a zone of no movement around it, a web that shall paralyze the first thing to breach it." Danarius guided her hands through the weave of the spell as she focused her thoughts. All at once Varania felt like she'd finally released a breath she'd been holding for too long. She stared at the beetle in disbelief as it did not move for several minutes. Danarius smiled. "That was well done. Not many are successful on the first try. Your gift is strong."

Varania blinked back tears. "I wish…"

"That you could learn to use your gift?"

Varania stared at him, hardly daring to hope. "Is that… could I?"

"Return with me to Minrathous, Varania, and I shall make you my apprentice."


Kirkwall

Along the road from his clinic in Kirkwall's undercity to Lowtown, Anders enjoyed the feel of a brisk autumn breeze against his face. The air was almost fresh, the constant reek of fish for once no more than an undertone. He needed to get outside the city more often, get some good clean air and see the trees bedecked in their autumn hues. Turning down a side street, he suddenly caught the scent of fresh apple pie and grinned. Not all the smells of the city were bad.

A hand on his wrist and cold steel at his throat froze him in his tracks. For a moment, his mind blanked. Then he recognized the hand gripping him and the scent of the woman behind him. "Isabela..."

The cold metal left his throat even as the warm body pressed closer against his back. "What's a defenseless mage doing out all alone at night? You're lucky it's me."

"I was just deciding whether I had rather freeze you or sear you to a crisp. You're lucky I knew it was you."

She snorted. "I robbed you blind." It took Anders a moment to grasp the past tense of her statement. Then he felt her hand slip into his robe and return his coin purse to the pocket he'd thought it had been safe in.

He shook his head. "Clearly I need to ward my robes." He turned to face the dark-haired beauty. The chilly evening had induced her to wear a leather coat over her usually risqué attire. The soft brown leather hugged her curves and the sides of the coat were slit high enough to allow a glimpse of skin above her thigh-high boots.

She arched a brow. "If you can, you had better. Varric is right about you mages. Your head must be half in the Fade for how oblivious you all are."

Her statement hit closer to the mark than she probably knew. A mage's powers came from the Fade, as did the demons who sought to possess them. It was one of the justifications given for the Chantry's seeking to imprison every mage in the Circle. Anders frowned. "If that's true, it's only because one doesn't learn street skills while locked away in a tower."

Isabela sighed as she sheathed her knife. "Not that again. Besides, Kaiden was raised outside the Circle and he's as easy a mark as you." She quirked a smile. "Even easier nowadays. I swear he's dreaming of that elf when he's not staring after him."

Mention of Fenris grated Anders almost as much as templars and the Circle. Kaiden hadn't told him much but it had been enough. He knew Fenris had gone to Kaiden after the confrontation with Hadriana. He knew the elf had used Kaiden and then tossed him aside like a whore. It would have been bad enough if the elf had had the decency to actually leave afterward, but no, he still hung around like a stray dog looking for scraps.

Isabela moved around him to continue down the alley and pulled at his arm to follow. "You should have seen the two of them today at the Wounded Coast! Ugh, the sexual tension is killing me! I tried to convince Varric we should lose them in a cave or drop them in a pit... Then watch and make sure they make up!" She laughed.

Anders had had about all he could take of this conversation. "Isabela..."

She ignored him, evidently set on sharing her fantasy. "Kaiden is amazing and Fenris... that taut controlled body, that brooding demeanor, mmm... I offered to personally help them make up, but no... Since when did Kaiden become the jealous sort? Wait..." She punched his arm. "I got it!"

"What?" The word came more out of surprise than any desire to know what she was thinking.

"It's the lyrium! Isn't it supposed to be addictive? Fenris is engraved with the stuff. Maybe it's even in his-"

"No! Ugh..." Anders brought a hand to his head and rubbed his temples. "No, it doesn't work like that."

"How would you know? Did you... wait... so that's why you and Fenris hate each other so... passionately!"

"What? Maker's breath, woman, are you crazy? I'd just as soon... screw a templar!" Anders couldn't decide which idea he found more revolting.

"Well aren't you full of surprises!"

"Damn it, Isabela! I... honestly, how could you be with someone who hates what you are?" He sighed. "Kaiden deserves better than that." He regretted the words the moment he'd spoken them. As aggravating as it was, he could handle Isabela teasing him for imagined interests. He couldn't let her discover what he denied even to himself.

"That's it..." Her tone caught Anders off guard. This time it wasn't a gleeful exclamation. She'd said the words softly, almost sadly. "It's Kaiden."

Every night I lie awake, aching for him. Anders pushed the thought away. "He's my friend. I don't want to see him hurt."

She gave him a look, but did not call him out on that. "As a wise man once said, 'Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something.'"

"I can't decide whether that's profound... or just sad." Anders was surprised to see that they were already at the Lowtown tavern that had become the group's meeting place. He really was lost in thought more than was prudent.

Isabela sighed. "Yeah, well, enough of that. I need something stiff... and a drink." She winked at him as she pushed open the tavern door. "You might try the same."