There was nothing. No light, no sound, not even pain. But then he saw it: dim at first, but steadily getting stronger. With an effort, Fenris opened his eyes to a crackling fire. He instantly regretted it as the pain hit him like a charging ogre. He groaned. "You're awake?" a voice beside him asked, "I'm still surprised you're even alive."
"So am I." He answered, turning towards the heavily armored woman next to him. "Why-"
"I know you must have a lot of questions, but you need rest more than you need answers right now. Here, drink this." She held a bottle of some red-colored liquid to his lips. "It will help with the pain."
Fenris turned his head aside.
"It's not poison. If I wanted you dead, I would have just left you by the river." The woman sighed, shaking her head in frustration. "Fine. Have it your way. My name is Gavinia, I'm a Fog Warrior. And you're an elf, right? I've never seen one before. Do all of you have such strange markings?"
"No," Fenris said. He didn't understand. If she didn't know about the markings, then she didn't know who he was. Or, more importantly, who his master was. So what did she stand to gain from helping him?
Gavinia smiled wryly. "So cryptic. What are you, a Qunari?"
"Hardly." He said, "Now, what exactly do you want from me? Why did you save me?"
"Is it not enough that I did?"
Something was wrong. This had to be where Danarius was staying, but why was everything so quiet? He sensed movement from behind him. Hunters. Fenris whirled around, drawing his sword.
"Such a warm welcome. I'm already happy I came." The dwarf Varric said. No sign of the orange-haired woman, but Hawke and the human male from before were there.
"Are you sure this is the right place? It looks empty" the woman said.
"I'm sure" he said. Fenris burst into the mansion's entryway, only to find it empty. "Where are you, master?" There was no point to subtlety. If Danarius didn't know of his presence earlier, he certainly knew of it now.
Fenris threw open the next door. This time, the room was not at all quiet. This time, he was met with flames. Spirits appeared from thin air, quickly surrounding him. He swung his sword in an arc, striking the closest demons. He let his anger take over as he fought, relishing in the heat of combat. Nothing mattered but the next target, the next slice of his sword, the next kill. But for every spirit he destroyed, another one took its place. He knew he couldn't keep up this pace much longer. Suddenly, everything came to a halt. There were demons all around him, but they were paralyzed. Frozen in place as if time itself had stopped. Fenris scowled. Magic was at work here. He glanced back to see Hawke looking up, deep in concentration, hands held up towards the sky. For an instant, he could see nothing but white as lightning struck the ground all around him.
As soon as the tempest died down, he charged up the grand staircase. One way or another it would all be over. "Danarius? Can you hear me? Your pets cannot stop us!" But when he reached the final room there was nothing; the magister was long gone.
Fenris ran outside and collapsed against a wall. So close. He buried his face in his hands. No more running. He couldn't take it anymore.
"Fenris…" he heard Hawke's voice, but refused to look at her. "Fenris, you're hurt. Anders could-"
"No! It never ends. 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." He turned to face her, not bothering to keep his disdain under control. "And now, I find myself in the company of yet another mage. I saw you casting spells inside, I should have realized sooner what you really were. Tell me, then, what manner of mage are you? What is it that you seek?"
"I want to protect the people I love. Sometimes that requires a lightning storm." she said honestly. "If that answer doesn't satisfy you, you could always come along with me. Find out for yourself. What about your abilities? They're from the markings, right?"
Fenris sighed. She had already seen what he was: there was no point lying to her now. "Some of them, yes. Even in Tevinter, warriors like me are rare. The markings are lyrium, burned into my flesh to provide the power that Danarius required of his pet." He touched his neck, wincing from the memory. "And now he wishes his precious investment returned. Even if he must rip it from my corpse."
Hawke smiled, "Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf." Fenris cleared his throat self-consciously. Was this woman flirting with him? She was beautiful, he admitted. Strawberry-blonde hair, green eyes… But she was a mage. She was dangerous.
He pushed those thoughts from his mind and continued, "The truth is, I know nothing of the ritual that placed these markings on me. In the Imperium, magisters like Danarius hold all the power. Slavery. Blood magic. The mages answered to no one."
"The mages here are different." Anders muttered.
"Or are they just better controlled?"
"This evening just keeps getting better." Varric said.
"Stop it." Hawke stepped in between them. "Both of you."
Fenris stepped back reluctantly. This woman saved his life from the demons, after all. "I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth. I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised. Should you ever had need of me, I will be here. If Danarius wishes his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it. Beyond that, I am at your disposal."
The woman looked surprised. "You didn't seem all that thrilled with me a moment ago."
"You are not Danarius. Whether you are anything like him remains to be seen." He began heading towards the mansion's entrance.
"Wait," Hawke said, "If these magisters are so powerful, then how did you get away?"
"Is it not enough that I did?"
