Chapter 3

While Fenris was too busy being shocked, Hawke was too busy being angry to do much of anything except yell at the Templars. "You utter bastards!" Then he was off, meeting the blade of the far Templar with a heavy clang. He fought like a man possessed, just continuing to slash at the enemy in front of him.

"Kitten, a little help over here!" Isabella called, having made her way over to the Templar that had been in front of the healer.

"But Isabella, shouldn't we help-"

"Who, Hawke? He'll be fine, sweet thing! Besides… I'd rather not get within sword range right now." A moment later, the Dalish cast a spell to immobilize the Templar, and Isabella jammed her daggers into the joints of his arms, making sure he couldn't draw his weapon. "There, now we can interrogate him!" Fenris finally found that his limbs responded to his desire to move, and he crossed to their "prisoner" in one lyrium-enhanced stride. Grabbing the man's face between his taloned fingers, he glared at him, pointing back at Anders, whose head was once again down.

"How could you do this?" he demanded. "What did you gain by torturing him?"

"We were only having a bit of fun, messere," the man weakly replied, eyes wide. "Ser Humphries said we could do what we wanted so long as he was in front of Meredith by this afternoon. Besides, we used him to show those apprentices what happens if you become an apostate."

"Wait a moment," Isabella said as she clapped a hand on Fenris' shoulder. "You paraded other mages down here and… Hurt him in front of them?" The Templar swallowed hard and nodded carefully, trying not to cut himself on the Elf's gauntlets.

"Um… Yes… Yes milady, we did."

"Elgar'non," Merrill whispered, closing her eyes and turning away. She felt a large presence behind her, and looked up to see Hawke. His face was still twisted with rage, and the hand holding his sword was trembling slightly. The Elven mage did not dare look at his opponent. She already knew it would be little more than an armored, gory mess. "Hawke, are you-"

"Why are we wasting time with him? Let's get Anders out of here."

"I'll go unlock those cuffs," Isabella said quickly, seeing the look on the warrior's face. Fenris suddenly found himself pulled back, his talons leaving cuts on the Templar's face. He started to protest, but Hawke glanced back at him, eyes narrowed.

"Catch Anders when he falls. I've got this." The Elf nodded, and Merrill quickly followed him back towards the blonde. Hawke then gripped the man's throat, squeezing slightly as an evil smirk swept over his face. "Any last words, scum?"

"Mercy!" the Templar squeaked, tears now forming in his eyes.

"Mercy? You think to ask me for that when the proof of your crime is still chained in his own clinic? You think I would grant mercy to those who tortured one of my friends? What makes you think I will show a wretch like you mercy?" The Templar started crying, knees trying to shake but still pinned by Merrill's spell.

"Andraste as my witness, I'll never harm another mage again! I swear it!" Hawke brought his face so close to the other man's that their noses nearly touched, his golden eyes almost seeming to glow with a dark light.

"You're right. You won't." The sword thrust was sudden, but the aim was true. There was a moment of pain for the Templar as he felt the sword pierce his heart, but that was all. Hawke pulled his blade out and turned back to the others just in time to see Anders drop into Fenris' arms, the Elf looking concerned and shocked. "How is he?"

"Not good," Merrill stated softly, running her hand lightly down the healer's face. "He's got a fever, and I think they drugged him with something."

"Magebane," Anders whispered, eyes fluttering open. "Poison. Makes you use twice as much mana for spells."

"But… But that's only for coating weapons," Isabella argued. "You're not supposed to make someone drink it."

"Justice… He tried to come out after they used a Holy Smite… But even he can't fight against that…"

"Anders, stop talking," Hawke chastised him, kneeling at the apostate's side. The blonde stared up at him, confusion furrowing his brow.

"If you're over there… Who's holding me?"

"That would be me," Fenris answered. A moment later, wide amber eyes were blinking at him, and he felt Anders' heart speed up slightly.

"Always knew… You'd come around…" Then the mage passed out, and Fenris felt a lump at the back of his throat as he looked at the pale, thin form he held.

"We need to get him back to the estate," the Elf said as he stood, carefully supporting the unconscious man in his arms. Why did Anders have to be so tall?

"Let's go before anyone else shows up," Isabella insisted, gently tugging on Merrill's arm. The rogue and Dalish went to the door, checking to make sure that there was no one there. However, they saw Lirene and a few other refugees outside, and the woman came over to them, hands clasped in prayer.

"Please, tell me he's all right."

"He will be, once he's had a few days rest. Don't worry, Hawke will protect him," Merrill told the woman, smiling at her. Lirene nodded, going back to tell the others about what had happened. As Fenris and Hawke exited the clinic, they all saw Anders and immediately went silent. Some started crying, others bowed their heads, and still others looked ready to march to the Gallows and declare war on the Templars. Once the Champion's group had left Darktown, the refugees dispersed to spread the news of the attack to rest of the city.

Fenris had had trouble trying to get up the cellar stairs, and Hawke ended up taking Anders from him and marching silently up to the main floor. Fenris trudged behind him, his mind a mix of guilt, anger, and confusion. He had betrayed someone who cared about him to the people he feared above all else. Worse, it had been for all for nothing with the revelation that not only was Hawke not involved with the healer, but he also only liked women. The Elf shook his head, taking a deep breath to calm himself. There would be time to sort everything out later. For now, they needed to make sure Anders would recover. He felt a soft tug on his arm, and looked over to see Merrill. The girl was staring at him with concern and a slight bit of fear. Given his usual demeanor around her, that was to be expected. "Fenris, Hawke asked if you wanted to help him and Isabella get Anders washed up. She seems to think he's injured under all that dirt."

"If only to make sure her hands do not wander where he wouldn't want them," the warrior replied with a heavy sigh. By the time he got to the washroom, the mage was only in his underclothes, and Hawke was gently lowering him into the large tub that Isabella was standing in. The Champion had taken off his gauntlets so as not to get them wet. Fenris noted with mild annoyance that the pirate was also only in her underclothes, but she looked up and winked at him.

"Strip down and help me wash him while Hawke keeps his head above water."

"Are you serious?" the Elf sputtered, turning crimson for a moment.

"Well, unless you feel like having your armor rust…"

"I do wear clothes underneath, Isabella," he retorted, unbuckling the chest plate and then tugging off his gauntlets.

"Such a shame too," she shot back. "I'd love to see you naked one day."

"Just not right now," Hawke added, rolling his eyes. By the time the Elf got in the tub with the mage and rogue, the water was slightly past his waist. While Hawke held Anders underneath his arms, Isabella took a soft cloth and gently began wiping away the dirt and dried blood that caked his torso. Fenris busied himself with checking for other injuries, such as broken bones, lacerations, or fresh bruises. At one point, he tilted the healer's head to check his temples, and Hawke snickered.

"What?" The question came out softer than he'd wanted, and the human shook his head and smiled.

"I've never seen you be so… Gentle."

"Injuring him further would be counter-productive."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Hawke, regardless of the revelations that have been thrown at me today, I am not, nor have I ever been, in love with the mage. We were both your companions, and that's where everything stopped."

"And so when he wakes up and tries to ask you about the letter, what are you going to say? Do you still feel that mages deserve what the Templars do to them? Do you believe that Anders deserved this?" Fenris swallowed painfully and looked away, his hand falling from where it had come to rest on the mage's arm.

"No. No one deserves that. Chained and helpless, waiting only for your "punishment". Praying that it will be swift, unlike every other time. Hoping that someone might save you this once, or at least spare you the worst of it…"

"Fenris!" Hawke's slightly-raised voice brought him out of the memory that was starting to form, and he subconsciously rubbed his wrists to get rid of the feeling of the shackles that had been placed on them so many times.

"My apologies… It's just that-"

"Andraste's flaming ass!" Isabella suddenly exclaimed, drawing their attention. Fenris saw her with the cloth, now bloody instead of just dirty. He noticed that the water around them was also tinged slightly red, and he watched the pirate put one hand to her mouth, eyes wide. "I can't… If you hadn't killed those Templars Hawke, I would for this. Get him out of the water so we can bandage that." Hawke obeyed, quickly pulling the limp form from the tub and placing it on a towel they'd laid out before. However, when he looked at Anders' torso, he went to his knees and turned away, hitting the floor with his fist. Fenris could stand it no longer, and hauled himself out of the tub; eyes immediately seeking whatever it was that had horrified his companions. But when he saw it, his mind took its time understanding what it was. The mage didn't have a gaping wound, but he was cut all across his stomach. The ones more towards his left side were still bleeding a bit, as if they were fresh. Had dirt been rubbed onto them for a reason? Maybe to hide them? No, probably to make sure they scarred. And the wounds looked deliberate, as if someone had done them with a purpose… One finger came up to trace the first mark, and then it moved to the second, his mind still not seeing whatever it was that- And then it hit him like punch in the head. He was tracing letters. Someone had carved a word into Anders, and Fenris felt his mouth run dry as his finger continued to show him the letters.

"A…P…O…S-" He cut himself off, even though his voice was only a whisper. His hands curled into fists, and anger seethed in him as he looked at the lyrium lines that had been branded into him. They had been meant to mark him, to show that he was and always would be a slave. Property. Danarius' pet. And now… Those Templars had tried to do something similar to Anders. To mark him as a reminder of what they saw him as. Of what he was and always would be…

Apostate.