Disclaimer: I do not own nor have any rights to the game. I do not benefit money in any way from these writings.
Warnings: M/M relationships, Mpreg
Author's Note: Here's a bit more of the story.
Chapter 3
It was immediate chaos after that. Salea was nearly blinded by the protection spell Anders threw over him and Fenris, and he was lucky his friend was so quick. Nearly a dozen stun and other more cruel spells lanced over the invisible barrier around them as Danarius and his other mages attacked. They were not the only threat, however. The Tevinter mage had brought many battle-hardened soldiers with him and their blades could not be turned aside by Anders' spell. Salea danced back separating a bit from Fenris and the others, as did they, to gain maneuverable space.
He drew his sword and short blade to fend against the first attackers. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sebastian charge through the tavern's front door to tackle a man threatening to overpower Isabela. Varric found a hold-off position on the bar man's counter, the dwarf having entirely too much fun dancing behind the thick posts to avoid spells and arrows while firing Bianca to his heart's content and kicking any who approached in the face. Salea ducked under a wide swing and plunged his short blade into the man's now vulnerable stomach, and as he rose he spun to swing his sword to slice another attacker's throat when he tried to slip up from behind. For a brief moment Hawke felt a fleeting fear for Merrill. The tavern provided little comfort room to stand back and cast spells and he worried the small elf would be overwhelmed…
He caught sight of the Dalish nymph back to back with Aveline, swinging her staff skillfully to easily knock back the enemy swords while delivering her fair share of skull-cracking hits. Salea smiled briefly before risking a glance to check on Fenris' safety all the while he tucked under another attack and spun out of reach dealing death as if it were a choreographed art. Fenris was fighting like a berserker. Salea had seen a few in his lifetime back in Ferelden—mostly dwarves. They were rather frightening. It made one hesitant to approach them for fear of losing a limb before the berserker recognized friend from foe. He wondered if such a distinction were possible while in such a state of mad rage and hate.
Fenris made them all look like green recruits.
The dark-clad warrior elf moved with a forceful vengeance, spinning through the enemy surging around him, swinging his enormous sword like Death's scythe. His lover was almost unrecognizable. The look in his eyes was bestial, his murderous rage frightening.
Salea, in watching his lover, nearly lost an eye as an attacker jabbed at his face. Hawke jumped back managing to escape the blade and upset the balance of another enemy coming up behind him. The man got an armful of rogue. The larger Tevinter wrapped his arms around Salea, pinning the Champion's arms to his sides while the first attacker moved to take advantage of his vulnerability.
"Hawke," Varric gave a concerned yell, swinging Bianca around to take aim. Salea lifted his legs and kicked the man in the chest with both feet, knocking the man holding him backward over a chair. As they fell, Salea still held against him, two arrows criss-crossed in the throat of the man stumbling from Hawke's kick.
"Ha ha," Varric triumphed. "Nice one, Seb, but my arrow struck first."
"Not on your life," Sebastian called from somewhere behind Salea.
Hawke smirked. Who else's fighting companions would take time to argue over kills in the middle of a battle? He struggled a bit against the superior strength of the man holding him. When it was obvious Salea could not move a muscle of his upper body, the rogue played dirty with a heel to the groin. Salea then sprang free from the loosened grip and stood over the man.
"I am sorry 'bout that," he grinned. "But I don't belong to you." He then kicked the man in the face and stabbed him in the throat when his head snapped to the side with the force of the blow. There was a quiet gurgle from the fallen enemy then nothing more.
Just as Salea straightened there was a furious roar from Anders. Hawke's head snapped to his friend only to see a dark, blood red ball of an unknown spell hurling straight for him. With no time to react the spell struck against the protective barrier. The force knocked the small rogue through the air to crash against the tavern's front wall by the door. The energy of the spell sizzled and sparked around him as the power faded taking what was left of Anders' protection with it. Somewhere Fenris roared. Justice's voice broke through the battle spouting his vengeful nonsense as Anders finally gave in to the spirit's control. Salea stayed slumped against the wall. His vision was unfocused and he felt light-headed. Bela called his name from his right, but other than a white blur he couldn't really make her out. She threatened to give him a spanking if he didn't get off his yummy ass.
Hawke decided that was threat enough. He used a reserve of strength to push up from the wall and shook his head. His vision slowly cleared. He saw that most of the soldiers Danarius brought were dead or dying. The mages however had Varric, Sebastian, Merrill, and Aveline pinned behind the bar. Isabela was quick and so was handling the dodging dance behind overturned tables and barstools well enough. Fenris and Anders were surrounded. Danarius cast a spell at the warrior elf and his lover screamed. A ball of red-white light and energy surrounded the elf engulfing him in its power. Salea could only watch as his lover's back arched, his head rolled back to face the ceiling; listened to him scream over and over as Fenris was held prisoner in the power of the blood magic spell.
No!
Salea's heart screamed with him when he shouted Fenris' name. He was helpless, and he knew it. For all his strength and skill, power and influence, Hawke was just as helpless again as he was when an ogre crushed his dear little brother, when the darkspawn taint poisoned his beautiful baby sister, when a sick necromantic lunatic desecrated and murdered his beloved mother. Now Danarius was going to rip Fenris away from him. Whether he killed him here or whisked him away to enslave and rule over him, a fate far worse than death as far as either of them were concerned, it made no difference. Danarius could not have him.
If Salea knew nothing else, he knew there was no life for him without Fenris. His babes needed their father who loved them more than life, he just didn't know it yet. Fenris needed to know. He deserved to know that love.
Please, Salea begged. Maker. Andraste. Anyone, please. Don't let him have him.
No sooner had he finished his plea when a strong power built up within him. Afraid he'd been hit with a spell Salea looked around but the mages seemed to have forgotten him. They were so busy with his companions, and battling Justice who was on a rampage on one side of the room. The warm energy he felt did not hurt him and it did not diminish as spells tended to do after striking their target. It grew and grew. His body seemed to radiate the heat building inside him, unable to contain the power. He wondered if this was what it was like to be a mage. If so, he could not imagine ever having the self-control to restrain such power. All he wanted to do was get rid of it; release the pent up energy that threatened to consume him from within.
Salea looked at Fenris, witnessed his agony under Danarius' spell. His golden-brown eyes slid to the Tevinter mage. The elder magister was smiling, thoroughly enjoying Fenris' pain. Hawke's eyes hardened. He wanted to release this uncontainable power that threatened to engulf him. So, he reached his hands out toward the sneering mage torturing his beloved, and let go.
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