Back on the Bull

Fenris was quite certain he was going insane. Three days they had been holed up in one of the numerous rock caves, three days spent soaked to the bone with frigid salt water and surviving on tidepool fish and soggy bread, and Fenris had just about all he could take. It was not the elements, indeed he had experienced far worse for far longer, nor the company, for Bethany was always tolerable to be around even in adverse circumstances, but rather it was the endless waiting for something terrible to happen that raised his hackles and disquieted his mind.

From his spot in the mouth of the cave he could just barely see the top of Bethany's dark hair. She had left a few hours before, claiming to be in search of something else for them to eat, but he knew her well enough to not believe her and had been rewarded for his suspicion by having to try and keep on an eye on her amongst the rocks and the wreckage of ancient ships rather than spending his time doing what he should be doing. Not that he was entirely sure what that was.

Walking away, perhaps, and finding a nice spot of land away from all manner of mages, templars, and Hawkes.

Anders and Garrett had given no signs of life or made a reappearance since they slipped into the trees and out of sight, but Fenris did not trust them, especially with Bethany so far away. It grated that he could do very little to either convince Bethany of that particular danger or to leave the Storm Coast, so he was left only with the option of trying to ease his mind with other thoughts. Even still, he was restless and bordering on miserable and he did not welcome that feeling.

Fenris shook his head and stood up, grabbing his greatsword from where it leaned against the rough rock beside him. Next to his sword sat a sleek, black mage's staff, untouched and gathering a thin film of salt. He stared at it, expression hardening into a grimace, until he could not stand to look at it any longer.

Keeping sight of the back of Bethany's head, he took the small slope down to her in three large steps, toes digging into the sand and little pebbles to keep himself from pitching forward and reaching her in a heap, rather than upright. She was perched on a stump, dirty fingernails digging into the side, staring at the exact place she had been for the last three days in a row. How she could stand it, he did not know, but then again it was not his brother that had bedded the Abomination.

She tilted her head to the side as he stepped closer, her cheek pulling as she attempted a small smile for him.

He could not return the gesture, but he managed to find it within himself to give her a small nod.

"Are you going somewhere?" She asked, voice pulled away by the howling wind.

"I had thought I might check the approach," He said, scrambling to give her an excuse that sounded even the slightest bit plausible. She turned to him more fully, wearing the same half smile, and looked up at him, observing him with those owl eyes of hers. He returned the gaze.

She had dirt smeared across her face and a stubborn little cut above her left eye but, for the most part, she looked well enough.

"What are you looking for?"

"The Storm Coast is not known for its inviting nature. I am surprised we have gone unnoticed this long."

"You know the Coast well. I thought you had never been to Ferelden," She said, pivoting on the stump to fully face him.

"I have not, but I know the rumors well enough."

"Did you hear of the weather?" She asked, a smirk twisting her lips as she seemed to think of something amusing. "Cold as shit, it is. To say nothing of the storms."

"All of Ferelden is cold," Fenris said, unsure of why she found the thought so entertaining. "Though of course, you would know better than I."

"Of course I would. Why do you think we stayed away so long?"

"The Blight," He said, turning away from her to look down the coastline. "And your families fortune."

"Fortune? That's a funny word for it." She looked back at the place Garrett had left them three days before, turning her back to him once again. "You'll be careful? I cannot lose you as well."

Fenris took a small step back, the discomfort he suddenly felt rocketing through him and freezing his tongue. Ten years he had known her and her steady honesty still managed to shock him. She seemed not to notice his sudden inability to articulate, or if she did she was gracious enough to not draw attention to it, and for that he was, as always, thankful. "I would feel better if you had your staff."

"Would you?" She gave a little twitch before she looked down at her hands. She took a breath. "I apologize. That was mean. Things are not as they were two months ago. I should not test your goodwill."

"You have no-"

"Fenris, I understand. You do not need to explain."

Whatever mirth had been in her voice evaporated entirely and he found himself feeling all the worse for it. He could not bring himself to say that aloud, however, so he turned from her and started walking down the coast, cursing himself for his inability to be there for her in the way a companion, a friend, should. There were a great many things that should be said, questions that needed to be answered and plans that should be made, but the threat of the Abomination loomed. When he glanced back, he caught her staring at the treeline once again, fingers digging into the stump, back straight as possible, and he felt the same guilt as he had before that he could not do more for her.

But he could not.

Or he would not.

He was not sure which was a more damning indictment of his character.

Bending his head against the miserable wind and cold, Fenris made his way along the coast as quickly as possible. He felt himself relax with every pace he put between him and the Abomination at the other end of the inlet.

"Andraste's saggy left teet, is that who I think it is?" Fenris recognized the rough voice instantly, although that did not stop him from drawing his sword. All around him, people moved closer hidden from view by the slope of the hills and the mist from the water. The footfalls were the heavyset thuds of soldiers and the Qunari that hired them. They moved in until he was thoroughly surrounded and he could see the Bull himself. "You're a long way from Kirkwall."

"As are you."

"No shit." The Iron Bull laughed out loud and waved a large arm, gesturing for his company to move back. "Who would stick around for that flaming pile of nug-nuts?"

"The foolish."

"Or the lucky dickstain with no price on his head."

"I am no wanted man," Fenris said, offended at the very notion. This caused The Iron Bull to laugh again and Fenris was reminded of when he first met him all those years ago. He did not take as kindly to it now as he had then. "Nor is my companion."

"That's not the story I heard."

"Then you heard wrong."

"You're not nearly as fun as I remember." The Iron Bull moved to stand in front of him, dripping wet but no less pleased to see him. "You don't have to look so bloody grim, elf. Come! Join me and my Chargers for a bit of supper. We have some catching up to do."

"So, remind me again?"

Fenris let out another long suffering sigh, looking over his shoulder at Bethany as she jogged to catch up to him, a thin book clutched in her hands. The weather away from the coast was marginally more pleasant and Fenris was thankful to put as much space as possible between himself and the Abomination, but it had taken no small amount of convincing on his part to get her to leave. It seemed the distance was good for the both of them as both of their spirits were remarkably lifted, as far as they could be at least, during their five day journey.

"The Iron Bull has asked me to look into something for him." She made a face and pinned him with an expectant stare and he was forced to continue. "We could not very well stay on the Coast. It was not safe."

"Because of Bull? Perhaps I do not remember him as well as I should. Has he changed?" She looked at him in a way that made him think that she knew it was not because of The Iron Bull.

"Yes, as have well all."

Bethany smiled wryly and nodded her head, more humor on her face than he had seen in a long time. A bit of color found its way to her cheeks and she stood out even more against the dull backdrop that was the Ferelden countryside. He had always heard it was beautiful, full of flowers and wondrous sights like nowhere else in Thedas. "Last time I was here, I was little more than girl," she said.

"How long until we reach Lothering?"

"It should be just over the hill, if we keep this pace."

"Then we should move faster." Her dark eyebrows furrowed and he could tell instantly that he had offended her somehow. He had done that several times over the last few days and she still managed to not look at him with the same disdain that he thought she should. Even at his most miserable in Kirkwall, he had never treated her so poorly. Letting out another sigh, he looked down at his feet. His bare toes appreciated being away from the cold surf. "What is your book about?"

She blushed again, deeper this time, and moved the book behind her back, tucking it into the folds of her cloak so he wouldn't be able to see it. He stopped walking and looked at her, a smile trying to fight its way to his face.

"You would not like it," She said, shoving the book as far as she could into the fabric.

"I like all manner of books, now that I have acquired the taste for them."

"It's not a matter of taste Fen, and more a matte-"

"May I see it?" He took a step towards her, holding out his hand, forced to hide his smile even more when she took another small step back.

"I'm embarrassed," She said, although she seemed loathed to admit such a fact to him. "It was the only one the merchant had that wasn't about the old history of old men."

"There is wisdom in the old history of old men."

"Mistakes," Bethany said, moving a bit of hair away from her face as the wind started to pick up. "Besides, I think I've had my fill of old wisdom for the time being."

"So the book is for entertainment."

"Of a certain type."

Fenris could not longer fight the smile. "Bethany Hawke, are you telling me-"

"Is that the Chantry?" Her voice was slightly strangled, with embarrassment or mirth, he could not tell.

She flitted down the hill, throwing a wicked smirk over her shoulder as she headed for, what he assumed, was a Chantry. It was a small thing, no larger than the other outcroppings of buildings that surrounded it. It looked nothing like the home the various Hawkes had told him about over the years. Blighted, the land was, but the signs of survival seemed to have sprung back from the scorched earth. Outside of the little mud and thatched homes, grim faces watched as Bethany hurried through them. They were a stark contrast with the bright paintings of flowers on the outside of each home. Clearly reapplied often and with great care, he found the bright colors fit with the palpable determination to survive in every face. He was surprised that Bethany did not stop, but even more surprised when she dipped inside without first turning back to see if he was following after her.

Most surprising of all was that she had made the peculiar decision to leave her staff outside.

She knew her homeland better than he, better than he ever could, but the simple gesture made his stomach clench and his hand travel to the hilt of his sword.

Fenris decided to wait a few moments, watching the town rather than following Bethany right away, although his hand did not leave his weapon.

As far as he was aware, she had never been overly devout, but he had heard of people turning to their faith in times of turmoil. She very well could have done this after the Hawkes arrived in Kirkwall, but he remembered he near constant eye rolls whenever Sebastian spoke. Carver had always been the most invested in the words of the Maker and his Wife, but even that faith had always seemed limited to Fenris.

Even he had found himself in the Chantry more than a few times, but he had told himself he was drawn more by the silence and relative peace than anything else.

After ten minutes he walked down the small hill and into the Chantry. He hesitated beside Bethany's staff. He could not do as she did and leave his weapon outside, but he did his best to adjust its position so as to not look so offensive to the Sisters. He thought they might be sensitive, considering recent events. He glanced around to ensure that no one had designs on the valuable weapon and found his gaze drawn to a glint of light on the ground at the base of the Chantry board. He crossed the small gap and leant down, scrubbing his fingers through the dirt. It was a piece of glass, the kind formed when lightning hit mineral rich dirt. He stooped and used the fingertip of one of his clawed gauntlets to scrape away the surrounding dirt. Fully revealed the glass was ugly, grey-green and filled with particles of dirt and other refuse. But there was something about it that fit the little town, something that felt like survival in his hand. He carefully placed the glass in his pack and walked inside.

Bethany was sitting with her back to him, kneeling in front of the altar of Andraste, muttering to herself. The altar, covered in burned down candles and old wax, was shrouded in a black cloth. As he stood by the door, his hand hovering over the knob, she reached forward and lightly brushed the bottom of the altar with the fingers of her left hand before she sat back on her heels.

"The Old Gods will call to you, from their ancient prisons they will sing." Keeping his steps light, Fenris moved to the seat just behind her, watching carefully as she continued to speak in a hushed voice. "...with wicked eyes and wicked hearts. On blackened wings does deceit take flight. The first of my children, lost to night…"

She let out a sigh and sat back fully, tilting her head like she had done on the Storm Coast five days past.

"That was always my favorite part of the Canticle of Silence," She said, reaching a careful hand to trace the hardened candle wax at the bottom of the altar. "And it is the only one I am able to remember. I make for a very poor Andrastian, I think."

Fenris let out a small noise of agreement, not entirely sure what he was meant to say. This feeling was only furthered when she sniffed and reached up to wipe at her face. In the candlelight he could see a glint of water.

She was crying.

He shifted in his spot and looked away from her, now too uncomfortable to put into words.

He was thankful for the distraction the opening door provided him. The Chantry sisters were small and dressed in well-maintained, if dirty, red robes, and their faces were alight with excitement as the rushed inside and out of the cold, whispering furiously between the two of them.

"Tevinters in Redcliffe, can you believe it?"

Blood rushed to his ears and he found himself unable to listen to them any longer as he immediately stood up and started walking towards the door, hands clenched into tight fists to keep himself from hitting something.

This feeling had been building up inside him for weeks, festering and gnawing at him. Cramped in that little hovel the Blood Mage called a home while they waited for it to be safe to leave the city, he had done his best to not take his anger out on his companions. Carver and Bethany had seemed to understand and did not test his patience. Maker, even Garrett had been tolerable on the rare occasions when he was there and Fenris was able to forget the Abomination, but those occurrences were so few and far in-between, he had found himself pacing the entirety of the home in the Alienage for weeks on end, desperately trying to quell his anger.

He had thought that anger would abate once he was free of Kirkwall and everything that came with it.

But it seemed he had been wrong.

Bethany scrambled after him, calling his name as he marched out the door.

When she all but shouted at him, he stopped and whirled around, nostrils flaring.

"I heard them." She chose her words carefully, clutching her now retrieved staff behind her back in, what he thought, was an attempt to hide it from him. "You can't go storming off with-"

"I do not need your permission," He snapped.

"I wasn't about to give it. I was going to say, you can't go storming off without a plan." She looked around Lothering for a moment, biting her lip as she struggled to think of what to say next. "We aren't as many as we were in Kirkwall. We have to be careful."

We.

The repeated use of the word sent a shot of warmth through his chest that he desperately tried to ignore.

"You do not plan to say in Lothering?"

"I had thought coming home would be rather nice," She paused again, a look of melancholy look taking over her face as she looked around at the state of Lothering. "But what good is being home if there is no one there to share it with? Garrett and Carver have found their own paths, for now. I believe I should do the same. Bull gave you a job in Redcliffe, didn't he? I don't see why we can't do both at the same time."

He had assumed, wrongly it would seem, that they would be parting ways in Lothering. He had not asked her, of course, but he saw no reason to continue on, when the purpose and goals that had held them together for so long were gone. Even so, he could not say he was disappointed to learn that she had not thought the same.

Not disappointed in the slightest.