A Wolf's Pelt, A Hawke's Heart
Chapter Two: Mage's Rage

Fenris gathered his thoughts as the hours past. It had seemed that time had slowed since discovering that Hawke would be the one to assist him in his venture. Fenris had seen beautiful women in the past, back in Danarius' mansion, but their narcissistic attitudes had made their exquisite features irrelevant. Hawke, however; Fenris held out the hope that Hawke would be different.

Fenris shook his head, pushing away such idle fancies. As Fenris saw the first bit of moonlight filter in through the window of his rented room, he prepared himself for the night's adventure. He strapped his sword to his back, pulled on his spiked gauntlets and charged out of the Hanged Man; past the drunk patrons, the barman and out into the silent streets of Lowtown.

Fenris headed hurriedly towards the Alienage, hearing the clattering of swords on swords. His mind bubbled with the potential situations Hawke and her companions might be finding themselves in, and he set off towards his destination more hastily than before, his armour clattering loudly. Despite the incapable mercenaries Fenris had fought off recently, he knew that sheer numbers could overwhelm even the most skilled.

A man was addressing Hawke's company as Fenris reached the Alienage. He was standing proud and talking like he was their superior. Without hesitation, Fenris channeled the powers granted through his lyrium markings and plunged his hand through the man's chest, seizing his heart within his hands and crushing it instantly. Fenris retracted his hand, and the man fell limply as a bloody, gory mess.

"Who goes there?" Hawke called, her eyebrows slanted inwards in suspicion. She wielded her staff before her defensively, moving her right foot forward into a more protective stance. Beside her, Anders glared at the elf but stood calmly, as though he assumed that Fenris was not a threat. Around the party lay the bodies of each of the mercenaries that had entered the Alienage.

"I thank you for helping me with these men," Fenris explained, eager to calm his potential ally, "the elf that they seek is I."

"Broody?" Varric called from behind Hawke, "who knew. You always should be careful of the quiet ones."

"You know him?" Hawke asked Varric, relaxing slightly at her partner's recognition of Fenris.

"Yeah. Lives at the Hanged Man, likes to make comments about the stories I tell the patrons," Varric said offhandedly, "I don't think he believes me, most of the time. Rightfully so, I say."

"And what stories are you sprouting about the city now, Varric?" Anders asked, almost sardonically.

"Just the tales of Hawke, the Ogre Extrordinare of course," Varric said, with a large grin on his face, "they believe every word. I could tell them that Hawke has only three toes, amputated devil's horns from her head when she hit puberty, dated an exotic elf form Antiva and had been born with skin the same colour of an elfroot plant, and they would only question whether or not she is still taken."

"I must ask a favour of you," Fenris said, changing the topic after a brief moment of silence, "but the way that you executed these hired hands makes me inclined to ask if you will assist me. I don't usually ask for help, but this is not a usual venture."

"If it involves working with slavers, blood mages or religious zealots, I refuse," Hawke said playfully.

"I assure you it does not," Fenris replied, "I cannot explain much, I just require your assistance. Questions can be explained later."

"How can we know you're telling the truth?" Anders asked flatly, with a look of pure distaste on his face.

"You do not," Fenris replied, "but I can give you what money I have in return for your assistance."

"I am in!" Hawke said, a giant grin on her face. The transition of her moods from suspicious to cheerfully astounded Fenris. The way that she trusted him, a complete stranger, was an utter contrast to Fenris' own nature. Having someone so openly supporting him made Fenris slightly nervous; was he worthy of Hawke's trust; the trust of a renowned member of society?

Pulling himself out of his momentary lapse of concentration, Fenris bowed his head in thanks and said: "meet me in Hightown as soon as you can," before rushing away from the party.

As he left, he heard Anders whisper to Hawke, "he looks dangerous, are you sure you trust him?"

Fenris had left before he heard her reply, but he simply hoped with every fibre of his being that Hawke would follow through and assist him on his plight. Tonight was the night that Fenris became a free man, and he would not allow a cynical, judgemental man to ruin his only chance at salvation.

Fenris' steps grew heavy at this thought. Tonight was the night where his life would begin anew, the night that he could prepare for a future that did not revolve around running, hiding or fighting for his life. He would be able to do all of the things that the people in this city were free to do.

Except the elves of the Alienage, Fenris realised. The men and women who lived in the Alienage held onto the brief hope that they could incorperate the lives of their ancestors into a town filled with humans, dwarves and even other elves that did not believe as they did. Although Fenris knew about the prejudice towards the elves, and how it would be nearly impossible for elves to live within cities besides humans, he resented the Alienages. He felt that living in a place like that, was like allowing yourself to succumb to the same kind of slavery that Fenris endured. While the elves in Kirkwall's Alienage were no longer slaves, they were treated like scum.

Fenris had heard of the Alienage within Denerim, in Fereldan, through a multitude of Danarius' house guests. The guards, human guards barred the gates to the Alienage there; no one was allowed in or out for quite a long time. The same could happen in Kirkwall, as the streets were specifically designed so that certain areas could be blocked off with ease.

As Fenris approached the front of Danarius' mansion, his thoughts about the Alienages halted. The night was still; the men and women of Hightown were tucked away in their comfortable beds, unaware of the events passing behind their shuttered windows. The sounds of hurried footsteps echoed off the stone steps behind Fenris.

"Too early for you?" Hawke said cheekily, a smirk lighting up her facial features, hidden beneath the dim moonlight. The sound of her voice brought Fenris out of his reverie and he focused immediately on what was to come. Behind Hawke, Anders and Varric followed closely and appeared to be exhausted.

"Hawke, sometimes you just need to slow down," Anders said, puffing heavily as he rested his hands on his knees. Hawke's reply to his comment was a larger smirk than before.

"What are we up against, Broody?" Varric said, the slightest hint of exhaustion in his voice.

"It is a man named Danarius. While we are inside, any manner of demon may attack us. My previous master enjoys working with his blood and the malevolent demons of the Fade," Fenris explained. The group seemed to absorb the information, although Hawke appeared slightly puzzled about something.

"You were a slave?" Hawke asked curiously.

"Yes. These markings are not just for show, either," Fenris spat, hatred clear in the tone of his voice. If Hawke was offended by Fenris' attitude, she did not question or state it; she simply nodded her head in acceptance.

As his heart beat heavily within his chest, Fenris ran forward and thrust open the door to Danarius' mansion. Before him, the room was oddly quiet and littered with broken furniture and floor tiles.

"Danarius! I know you are here!" Fenris shouted, piercing the unsettling silence. As the party moved through to the next room, in the same state as the one they had initially entered, shades formed from dark pools on the ground. Their twisted and gnarled dark bodies formed into gruesome monsters, their eyes glowing brighter than the torches hung upon the walls around them. A series of gurgles and screeches came from the damned creatures.

Fenris grasped the hilt of his large, two-handed sword and roared as he charged at the abomination. But, just before he reached it, a ball of magical fire disintegrated the shade. Fenris whipped his head around to see the source of the spell, and saw Hawke, staff in hand, sending spells of fire and ice towards their enemies.

Fenris felt his repressed anger bubble and boil at the sight. Hawke, a mage? He cursed himself over and over. He should have known. Redirecting his anger, he charged straight into the middle of a larger group of shades, injuring himself in the process.

Fenris felt a strange feeling wash over him, and he shivered slightly; feeling all of his pain fade away. Someone had healed him. Casting a quick glare at Anders, he noticed the mans staff had briefly pointed towards him, before focusing on the enemies again.

More mages! Fenris thought angrily. He, too, then chose to focus his attention on the shades.

Traveling through the mansion, the party found little more than loot and shades. When they reached the uppermost room of the mansion, a fire still alive in the hearth and books scattered across the desk, Fenris felt defeated.

"Danarius is not here," Fenris stated. The silence that passed over the group was unsettling. Being in such a dilapidated mansion, with the absence of the noises of living creatures made the place feel very eerie.

"Thanks for the memo, Broody," Varric said jokingly. He, Anders and Hawke scoured the room for anything of use or value, while Fenris pondered his company.

He had the assistance of two mages; magic being the thing that had repressed him during his years as a slave. Fenris felt wrong, and angry; I should have seen it!

"Danarius may well have left his treasures behind. They are yours. I think... I need some air," Fenris stated, shaking his head. The group looked at him with puzzled expressions as he charged out of the mansion.

His anger was like an itch beneath his skin. He felt the lyrium within his body spark and jolt, eager to engage and provide Fenris with the means to take on the world.

One... Two... Three... Fenris counted, closing his eyes and clenching his fists tightly. If he did not calm himself, he would lose control and anger was not a good emotion for fueling one's actions.

When Fenris felt himself calm down; his heart rate slowed, his breathing became lighter and he no longer needed to tense his fist, he relaxed his tense muscles. The door to the mansion burst open, revealing Hawke, Anders and Varric.

"While I was a slave, magic plagued me at every turn. I escaped to get away form magic, to find myself in the company of even more mages," Fenris said bitterly.

"You watch your mouth, elf," Anders spat.

With a quick glare at Anders, Fenris addressed the visually hurt Hawke: "I apologise if I appear ungrateful. For that is far from the truth."

"It is starting to seem like it," Hawke bit back. Varric looked at each person individually, a lost look on his face.

"Every mage is exposed to constant temptation. Tell me: what is your main ambition?" Fenris demanded.

"To protect my family," Hawke said diplomatically, "everything that I do, is to protect them!"

Silence again passed over the group. Anders stood defiantly between Hawke and Fenris, protecting her from a possible outburst. Varric, standing awkwardly to the side, decided to keep out of the conversation. Hawke continued to make eye contact with Fenris. He hadn't noticed earlier, but her eyes shone vibrantly, even in the dim lighting. He felt himself calming down, and collected his thoughts.

"Here is what money I have," he said and passed a coin pouch to Hawke before heading towards the mansion door. Without looking behind him, he slammed the door and entered Danarius' residence with one thought on his mind: why had the look of hurt on Hawke's face hurt him, too?