Bioware owns all you recoginize, but the legend lupa tells is mine.


Fenris sprawled across the bench in his room, staring into the fire, wishing there was another bottle of the Agreggio left. The wind whirled thru the holes in the roof, making the rafters creak. Or was that the stairs? He looked up, reaching for his sword, and froze, staring at the mage standing in the doorway, arms full of papers and books.

"Hawke." He acknowledged her, setting his sword back down. She strolled into the room, dropping her burden on his table as the mabari charged around her. The dog skittered to a stop in front of him, laying a paw on his knee and whining quietly. "And Wolf", he added, and the war hound rolled to its back at his feet, attempting to extort a belly rub. "Why are you here?" he asked, staring up at the mage even as he bent to pat the dog.

"I… Do you still want me to teach you how to read? I did sort of promise before, well, before." There were evident shadows under those golden eyes, the eyes her current cheery smile didn't reach. He wanted to run his hands thru that soft auburn hair, pull her close… he dug his fingers into the dogs fur, rubbing its silken ears, and nodded, swallowing what he wanted to say.

"That would be welcome. Thank you" he said finally, and she settled herself into one of his chairs, spreading out the papers. He rose, moving across the room to seat himself next to her. Almost bemusedly, he found himself with a quill in hand, ink and paper before him.

"We should start with the alphabet. Here…" She laid a sheet with a number of well-spaced symbols scribed on it before him. Correcting his grip on the pen, she pointed at the first symbol. "Copy each one, and I'll tell you their names, the sounds they usually represent. This is A, like apostate, or apples."

"Or Anders the abomination?" he added dryly, attempting to match the clean lines of her writing. She snorted, some of the life returning to her eyes, and he smiled weakly at her. She smiled back, nodded at his imitation of the letter, and pointed at the next symbol.

"B. B is for berries, or blood mages. Or Bartrand being a bloody bastard."

Some hours later, they had run thru the alphabet, and Fenris was carefully writing his name. His letters were still a trifle wobbly, but he was getting rather proud of his efforts. The shadow of a hand fell over his page, and he flinched back, nearly falling from his chair. Recalling where he was as he caught himself, he looked up, to see a worried expression pass across golden eyes.

"Perhaps this is a good time to break for the night", Lupa suggested quietly. "Practice the letters, think of the sounds as you write them. Write your name as often as you'd like. Start again…", she thought for a moment, "Next Tuesday?". He nodded agreeably.

Leaving the papers on the table, she started for the door, then paused. "When you finally get your hands on Danarius, would you like help killing him?"

"Why the sudden interest?" Fenris asked, as the dog reluctantly removed itself from his feet, shifting to watch her standing at the door.

"I've realized how much I dislike people hurting my friends," she smiled sadly, starting to leave. "Will you come to the Hanged Man for cards tomorrow?"

"Probably. Is Varric still buying the drinks?"

"If he's not, I am. See you then, Fenris." She carefully navigated the hazards of the stairs, vanishing from his sight, Wolf at her heels.


"I can't imagine what Hawke sees in you." Anders glared at Fenris across the narrow entrance to the Hanged Man.

Fenris shot the blonde healer an annoyed look, then returned to watching the auburn haired mage already sitting inside. "It is done. Leave it be, mage." He growled, rubbing a palm absently over the red sash wrapped over his gauntlet's wrist.

"Well, good. I always knew she had some sense." The former warden snorted, and Fenris turned a smoldering glare at him.

"Do not make light of this. Leaving was the hardest thing I have ever done." He snarled at the blonde, stepping forward.

Isabela moved between them, shaking her head as she blocked their paths. "Honestly, will you two get over yourselves? You're like two dogs around a bitch in heat."

"We were speaking of Hawke, not you." Fenris remarked pointedly, and the pirate laughed.

"She is something," Isabela grinned, then sashayed over to the table to claim the chair nearest the redhead. Hawke smiled brightly at her, pouring her a drink from a clearly hightown bottle.

Several diamondback turns and rounds of drinks later, Fenris stared across the table at Wolf, who was drooling over his pile of counters. The dog wuffed happily at him, then tilted his head as Isabela whispered something into a furry ear.

"Isabela, please don't teach my dog to cheat. He wipes Anders clean every week as it is." Hawke sighed, nudging the dog's hand of cards further away from the puddle of drool.

"He'd be up more than two sovereigns against us if he'd remember not to wag his tail every time he gets a good hand." Varric remarked, and the steady thump of Wolf's tail abruptly ceased "I vote the dog doesn't play anymore," Anders suggested hopefully, fidgeting with the lone counter remaining to him, and the table laughed as Wolf growled warningly.

"Anders, that's no fair. You just don't like losing to a dog. Every week. For the last two years." Hawke smirked.

"Of course, then Anders could go back to losing all his money to Fenris and me," Isabela pointed out hopefully. The blonde looked thoughtful, then shook his head.

"Come to think of it, the dog is more reasonable about payment schedules." He demurred, and the table burst out laughing again.

"Only because I'm paying him in lamb bones for you." Hawke reminded him, and the mage shrugged.

"If you really have coin to spare, you still owe me from wicked grace last winter." Fenris grumbled, and sipped his wine.

"Either way, I'm paying a snarling beast." Anders muttered, and Varric hastily interposed himself to keep Fenris in his seat.

"I think it's time for another round. Ale, anyone? I'm buying." He announced, the crossbow Bianca suddenly across his lap.

"Anders, be nice. " Hawke remonstrated, tiny sparks of lightning arcing between her fingers, and the blonde apostate muttered an apology.

"You can talk, neither of your wolves bet against you." He grumbled, and tossed down his hand. "I'm out."

"My loyal hound and my fierce knight in black leather armor, who would ask them to go against their lady fair?" She asked, laughing as she batted her eyes ridiculously.

"If he's a knight, I'm a Templar." Anders snorted, and was struck by a tiny bolt of lightning that scorched his feathered pauldrons. "That hurt!"

"You shall not impugn the honor of my wolf knight." Hawke declared almost seriously, another minibolt dancing between her fingers. "Or maybe I should allow him to seek satisfaction for your insults?" she added, her tone truly serious despite the flamboyance of her phrasing.

Fenris hid his smile as Anders backed down, and retreated hurriedly towards Darktown. "Wolf knight?" Fenris asked, as soon as the blonde was out of earshot.

"Better my knight than the pet he keeps implying you are." Hawke sighed, then looked mischievous. "After all, wolves make terrible pets," she deadpanned, catching him with a mouthful of wine. She watched him choke and splutter, then laughed "but they do make good pack mates."


"Does your other wolf make a terrible pet as well?" Fenris asked later at their next reading lesson, looking to the dog curled before the fire. Lupa was seated next to him, watching him copy words. In the candlelight, her delicate features seemed subtly elven, a contrast to the rounded ears she pushed her hair behind.

"Mabari aren't really pets as most of the world sees them. They are partners, companions, and they choose who they bond with. We call it imprinting. Sometimes they imprint on someone they've spent a lot of time with, or the person the breeder wants them to. Sometimes it seems completely random, but they're considered good judges of character, and their choice stands. Sometimes they bite the noble and pick the thirteen year old peasant he'd been leering at." Her voice went distant as she smiled affectionately at the sleeping dog. "Just a little puppy, and snarling like mad, keeping himself between me and the world. I called him my fierce wolf, and the name stuck."

"They bond for life then?" Fenris asked, curious. "The breed originated in Tevinter, and supposedly defected during the invasion of Ferelden. I've always rather liked the thought that they found the barbarians more palatable than the magisters."

"Our legends claim they were bred from the wolves that served Dane, but the bred by mages does seem more likely. Mabari lifespans are more like horses than dogs, and as long as their master lives they will fight willing by their side. If they somehow manage to outlive their person, they'll usually reimprint, but that doesn't happen that often." She smiled wryly, then glanced at his page. "Cat is spelled with a c, not a k." he rewrote the word, grumbling without any real discontent. "I suspect that if I were gone, he would attach himself either to you or Aveline. He likes the two of you. Well, you more, but Donnic has a habit of slipping him tidbits."

"Donnic is a good man", Fenris remarked, "Aveline is lucky to have him, though he often claims the other way around."

At their feet, Wolf made a whuffling noise, nuzzling Lupa's hand, then laid his head at the elven warrior's knee, looking intently back at his mage. "I think that's him saying he'd stay with you. Good. You warrior wolves could look after each other."

"It would be interesting, but I'd rather not have that particular circumstances come to pass." Fenris smiled dryly at her curious look, trying to hide the pain he had felt at the notion of her death. "After all, I don't even know what to feed him."


Fenris stalked into his room, dumping his gear as he went. He collapsed into a chair, back to the window, and stripped off his gauntlets to better check the oozing knife wound along his bicep. It broke open again at his touch, bleeding harder, and he hissed at the fresh pain. Quiet footsteps sounded suddenly behind him, and a hand laid itself on his shoulder. "Are you…" the voice had barely time to ask, before Fenris spun on them reflexively. His brands flared bright as his hand slid into an unwary chest, fingers about to flex before he saw who stood before him. Wolf gold eyes blinked in confusion as she gasped for breath, as her heart pounded madly under his hand.

"Lupa?" he whispered, recognizing her, and hastily pulled back, catching her forearms as her knees buckled. With a tug, he had her seated on the nearest bench, checking her over to make sure she had taken no lasting damage.

She coughed, the sound harsh in the quiet of the room. "New reason not to startle you." She joked, still coughing. "That really hurt."

"I'm sorry. Tonight has been…" he shook his head, trying to control the racing of his heart. He could have killed her, he thought, and shivered. "Why were you here?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. She gestured at the new pile of books on his table, and he sighed. "Right. Reading lessons. Tonight. I completely forgot. I ran into a few foolish slavers on my way through dark town and…" He indicated the bleeding line down his arm. "I am so sorry."

She reached out, running a finger flickering with blue light down the length of the wound, and it closed itself neatly, disappearing without even a trace of a scar. "A few less slavers in the world could only be a good thing."

"What were you doing by the window?" He asked, flexing the healed arm experimentally.

"There's a storm building out there. I used to sit on the roof in Lothering and watch them during the summer. Mother always scolded me for getting rain soaked, but…" she glanced at the exposed rafters and gaping hole in his roof, then grinned at him. "Want to watch this one with me?"

"Watch a storm? What about my lesson?" He asked, intrigued, his gaze flicking between her and the sky visible through his roof.

"Neither of us is exactly in the right mood for dealing with those books right now." She smiled impishly at him, "We won't get hit by lightning, I promise" He smiled tentatively back, and she scrambled over a half tumbled wardrobe, pulling herself up through the rafters, reaching back to offer him a hand up. On the rough slate of his roof, he sat gingerly next to her, feeling the wind rising. The clouds thickened above them, swirling together as flickers of lightning lit patches of them in the distance. He could feel the pressure building, taste the ozone in the air. Lupa perched on the roof peak, her gaze intently on the clouds roiling above her.

She seemed part of the growing storm, her hair redder than the sunset stained western edge of the clouds, her eyes as bright as the lightning flashes. She laughed, her voice almost lost in the distant rumble of thunder. "The Chasind have a legend about a mage called Lupa Wolf born, the Storm caller. Long ago, a Tevinter army threatened, and she raised the sky and sea against them to protect her clan. She called a storm big enough to bury an entire fleet eternally beneath the waves, but killed herself doing it. They still sing of her courage and sacrifice, believe that her magic is why the far southern coast of Ferelden is still nearly impassible, and her name is whispered every time a storm blows sea salted wind through the wilds. My paternal grandmother insisted I be named after her, when I was born wolf eyed on the night of a storm. Mother wanted to name me something 'less ominously barbaric', but Gran got her way. She usually did."

Fenris leaned closer to her. "There are worse mages to be named after, I'd imagine," he admitted. ""It's certainly better than 'little wolf'"

"Fen, you're not exactly a little anything. Besides, wolves are supposed to be fierce and free, loyal only to their pack and pack mates, not chained like a beaten dog. You're more a wolf now than you ever were in Tevinter." Lupa was watching him now, an odd light in her eyes. He met her gaze, an unspoken question in his dark olive green eyes, and her cheeks flushed as she looked away, back to the storm. "The Chasind like wolves. They serve no master but by choice, keep their own honor, and always look after their own."

"I… I had never thought of it that way. It sounds rather like something the Fog warriors once told me, during the months I remained with them." He remarked, turning his eyes back to the sky as well. "They took my side, forgave me what I was even as I turned on them at Danarius's command. Even as I killed them." His voice trembled as it had the last time he had spoken of them, and Lupa cautiously laid a hand on his knee.

"Don't. Don't blame yourself for that. Blame the cruelty of the madman who had broken you that far. Blame the insanity that allows such atrocities to continue. If you let what he made you do destroy you further, you only give him what he wants, what he intended when he made you do it," Lupa told him firmly, and let her other hand cup the side of his face, thumb running along his cheek. "They gave their lives to help you become free. Don't dishonor that sacrifice by letting him cage your mind without even trying."

Fenris took a deep breath, and sighed. "I will try. Thank you." He brushed his own hand over hers, started to reach for her, and thunder crashed behind him, startling him. He flinched, then pulled back sheepishly, staring at the darkening sky again. Lupa pulled back as well, smiling ruefully, and raised her hands to the sky as if in entreaty. And the rain fell, drenching in heavy sheets of windblown water, sluicing over their upturned faces. Lighting arced across the sky in elaborate, eye burning forks as thunder echoed in deep rumbling booms.

Lupa rose, edging carefully back towards the exposed rafters. "I think this is our cue to head back inside, not that there won't be rain inside as well." She laughed. "You should probably get the roof fixed at some point. I'd gladly lend you the money if you need it."

"But then how would I watch storms with you?" Fenris asked in his usual dry humor, then helped her back through the rafter and onto the puddled floor. The mabari was lying patiently on his bed, he noted, as far away from the dripping holes as possible.

"Very well, I'll be sure to dare the surface of your roof next time a good storm blows in. I'll bring wine and Orana's apple pastries. We could make a picnic of it." She grinned, then started spelling the water from his hair and armor. Fenris almost flinched, then fingered the dying leather of his sleeves.

"A useful trick." He admitted grudgingly. "Sometimes I forget there's more to magic than lighting enemies on fire and summoning demons."

"Mages can be very useful. We can heat bathwater, chill your drinks, patch your wounds, and still hit annoying people with lightning. The demon summoners just make the rest of us look bad." Lupa leaned against the wall, not bothering to dry herself off. "I should probably head home, before mother gets the watch looking for me. She's going to fuss over me and likely set Anders on me as is." Fenris raised an eyebrow, and Lupa shrugged. "She likes him. Says he reminds her of Father. I think Father was a bit funnier and less obsessed, personally, but I see what she means. Aside from the whole possessed by justice thing, Anders isn't a bad man. Very misguided in most of his methods, and I wish he'd leave you alone, but he does good with his clinic."

"You approve of his trying to free all the mages, then?" Fenris asked, a hint of a growl in his voice. "Not all mages are you, Hawke. For every mage strong enough to control their powers, a dozen would give way to demons at the slightest threat."

"Unfortunately, and the current policies of the circle do little to prevent it. Do I honestly approve of Anders's grand schemes? Not the way he's doing it. We need to start within the system, set up chantry run, supervised clinics for the healers. Send the best of the battle mages to the army, again supervised. Let us be where we can do good instead of caging us away where only other mages and Templars see our power's better uses. Once people no longer automatically cower in fear at the sight of magic, then maybe we can consider more widespread freedom. Open the circle doors now, as things stand, it will end with us either being hunted down like Hafter hunted the werewolves, or a new version of the imperium rising. The revolution he thinks we need will only cause bloodshed on both sides."

"Why haven't you told him that?" Fenris asked, curiously.

Lupa slammed her fist into the nearest wall. "I've tried, damn it. He won't listen! It's like Merrill and that damned bloody mirror! Every time I think I might possibly be getting through to him, Justice talks him right back to his original point, and claims I'm a distraction to his goal." She punched the wall again, and Wolf whined worriedly. "The last time I tried, he just handed me a copy of his manifesto. It's maddening." Wolf whined again, and she looked up, finally noticing the worried look on Fenris's face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't burden you with this. I just miss when you were the only person arguing with me about principles and magic. You at least occasionally admit someone else's point of view might possibly be valid." She tried a cheery smile and almost managed it. "Besides, you never yell, and your disapproving voice is much more fun to listen to. I really should go home."

"Will you come back tomorrow night? I did miss our reading lesson." Fenris asked, his tone conciliatory, as he followed as he followed her to the door.

"I… As you wish. I'd like that. Good night, Fenris. I'll see you tomorrow then." She responded, healing her hand as she left.


The dalish witch was giggling at him again, Fenris noticed, looking up from his wine. "What is it now?" He finally snapped at her.

"You're in love," she crooned in a singsong voice, looking meaningfully between him and Hawke, who was playing some sort of obscure drinking game with Isabela.

"I am not!" he denied, hoping Lupa hadn't heard. She hadn't looked up, that was a good sign. Or so he hoped.

"Every time she looks away, you're staring at her with those big sad puppy eyes." Merrill was nearly bouncing in her seat as she informed him cheerily.

"There are no puppy eyes," he insisted, concentrating on not staring at Lupa as he said it, and certainly not staring at the way she had her head by the pirate's, laughing together. He growled quietly, and the bloodmage giggled again.

"It's all right, you know. Even you can be happy once in a while." Merrill glanced over at Hawke and Isabela, and giggled again. "But your face might crack if you smile, so be careful."

Fenris spluttered, and Merrill bounced off to wherever delusionally cheerful, deceptively harmless bloodmages bounced off to. He sighed, and without thinking, found his gaze firmly back on Lupa. As if sensing his look, the redhead looked up, smiling fondly as she met his eyes.


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