Content Warning: this chapter contains rape/non-consensual sex. It's not violent in nature, but nevertheless, it is still clearly rape, despite neither party engaging in said activities of their own volition or free will. I've placed just this scene in a chapter by itself. With this warning in mind, please read or not at your own discretion. If you prefer to skip this chapter and go straight to the next, it won't affect your understanding of the rest of the story.

Chapter Three

The links of metal that bound Hawke to the wall clinked together as she shifted, pushing to her feet to meet her challenger, her hands fisted at her sides. The elf continued to smile at her provokingly, and she wished for nothing more than to be granted some blunt object to smash his smug face with, permanently removing that superior, knowing smirk. If he thought she would just lay down and eagerly spread her legs for him, he was in for a rude awakening. She decided she would force him to kill her first. Considering how volatile his temper seemed, it probably wouldn't be difficult.

He might be a damned sight better looking than the twisted bastard who clearly enjoyed torturing people, and probably animals and children too, but she no more wanted his company than she wanted to go swimming in the Denerim sewers at midsummer. She lifted her chin higher with her resolve strengthened.

"Let me make this perfectly clear for you - if you touch me, I'll kill you, elf," she said in a low voice, straining with all her will against the binding power of the metal collar around her throat, but not even the faintest wisp of fade power heeded her desperate call. Frustration mounting as he drew a step nearer, she clenched her jaw even tighter. It felt as though she were missing a limb, or one of her vital senses, being so completely separated from the magic she had commanded for most of her life. How was she supposed to defend herself? Futilely, she searched the room for something to use as a weapon, but the only one she saw was the large sword the elf had set aside after the other rat bastard left.

"Since it is obvious to me from the look in your eyes that you have killed before, I believe your threat is genuine." His deep voice vibrated strongly in the space between them, the infuriating smirk still on his full lips. "Or rather, I believe that you believe your words. But if magic is all you know how to fight with, you would not be a threat to me, even were you unbound. I kill mages often and I take great pleasure in it."

She watched darkly as he downed another glass of wine while she seethed, the sudden spike of discomfort between her thighs when he spoke making her eyes widen in shock. Something...wasn't right. She hadn't felt like this earlier, or while the cruel mage lingered. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, the sensation intensified, bringing a sneaking suspicion that slowly filled her with an increasingly hopeless feeling of horror.

"Stop talking," she snapped irritably, the musical clinking of the chains growing louder as she raised her hands to cover her ears in an attempt to defend herself from the effect his voice was having on her, the fine trembling that had slowly overtaken her limbs during the past hour growing more pronounced by the minute. Her vision swam, and she clenched her eyes shut, then blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear them.

He glanced at her in surprise at her sudden change of tone, almost pleading, his mouth turning up again in amusement at the demand of her words when he stilled, his head tilting to the side as he watched her carefully for several minutes while she continued to shift, her teeth sinking into her lower lip in distress. She missed the brief flash of pity and anger that shone in his eyes before he turned back and set the wine glass down on the table. All traces of humor disappeared from his face as he made quick work of removing his armor and all the clothing he wore except for his tightly fitted trousers.

"I've been drugged, haven't I?" She whispered her question so quietly that if Fenris were not an elf, he would not have even heard her.

When he stalked across the room toward her, his purpose clear, she raised a hand to ward him off and pressed back against the wall in alarm. "Stay back! Don't touch me and don't speak to me!" She dropped her gaze to the markings across his lean-muscled chest and arms, biting her lip even harder to keep the whimper building in her throat at the sight of him from escaping and betraying her true state. "And stop looking at me like you own me… You don't," she snarled in desperation. "I don't care what that other maniac said, I'm a free woman!"

In a single, swift move, he restrained her arms at her sides and pinned her between the wall and himself in such a way that she couldn't move her legs to kick at him or fight him off, and she moaned in misery, her skin heating at his touch. She writhed against him, desperate to escape, but he only pressed into her harder, his eyes filled with determination.

"Listen to me, Hawke, and take heed while you can. The oils that were rubbed into your skin when you were bathed contain a potent aphrodisiac, as you already suspected, and you cannot escape its effects for much longer. Believe me, I am very intimately acquainted with the futility of resisting." He frowned and looked away from her face, trying not to feel guilt for what he had been ordered to do, and failing.

"Your only hope for relief lies with me," he continued, in a slightly more persuasive tone. "I am willing to give you pleasure in this venture, or you can fight against me and have pain. That is your choice as to which is your preference, and I don't really care either way, but you will not stop this from happening. I have been given a task, and I must complete it."

She moaned again at the inescapably arousing sound of his voice, with his chest pressed against her it vibrated through her breasts and his mouth was so close to her ear. Why did he smell so enticing, like pine trees and spring rain? She raised her head and closed her eyes, inhaling more deeply. His warm breath fanned across her neck and she undulated her hips against him in helpless response, struggling to hold on to even a single thought as the demands of her body blotted everything else out. She needed….something. What was it?

The smirking elf! He had it, if he could only be persuaded to give it to her. She would ask nicely and surely he would relent and stop being stubborn. Why was her skin on fire?

"Please, please… I need… I...I need something you have," she whispered, her eyes unfocused and hazy with want.

With a resigned sigh, Fenris deftly removed the metal cuffs at her wrists, the brief scrap of clothing she wore, and his own trousers. His eyes lingered on her fully naked form, his aching erection hardening further at the sight. He tried to deny the sharp pang of disappointment rising in him as she stopped resisting him completely, but with her no longer aware or able to fully understand what was happening, it rose, swift and strong.

He had actually been looking forward to having her fight him so he could have the added satisfaction of gently teasing her, and persuading her to eagerly bend to his will so she would ask for his touch freely. It would have made the whole event less trying. Though he had little knowledge of how to truly perform to the level of a pleasure slave, Danarius had required such things of him often enough that he had adequate knowledge of how to satisfy a woman.

Perhaps it was just as well that there would be no resistance for her first time, but still, he found the prospect of coupling with a mindless husk completely distasteful, and he had never forced anyone to lie with him, as far as he could recall. His feelings of disgust and repulsion at the prospect made him certain he never had.

Picking her up easily, he walked to the bed, surprised to discover that she weighed even less than his great-sword. Setting her down, he watched her stretch out like a cat and smile up at him in apparent happiness, practically purring at the feel of cool sheets against her overly sensitive and heated skin. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her open and easy smile directed at him, her eyes brightened further in her delight. If he had thought her beautiful before….

She thrust her chest out as she wiggled against the bed, drawing his eyes to her breasts. The delicate pink of her nipples begged to be tasted and after only another brief moment of hesitation, he moved to comply, slowly relaxing into his task when he found the scent and taste of her skin, as well as the soft sounds of her enjoyment all to his liking. Lying down beside her and for the first time he could ever recall, he allowed nothing but his own preferences and desires to guide him, while also taking great care to give her as much pleasure as he was able. He denied himself no part of her, tasting her skin and kissing where he pleased while she writhed beneath him, pleading for more of his touch. It was a strange thing to have full rein over her body, and the often denied beast inside him roared with victory at so much privilege.

He began to understand, even after so brief an experience, why the Magisters sought such power, though it shamed him to admit it, even to himself. To be able to do whatever you pleased, to have others begging for your attention... It was heady, addictive… The lure was undeniable and it was very dangerous knowledge for a mere slave to have.

"Please...elf...please..."

He palmed one of her breasts firmly while he sucked the side of her neck, amazed at how easily she bruised; he had left marks scattered in many places across her body, merely because it was allowed and it pleased him to do so.

"Not elf. Call me Fenris," he whispered into her ear, feeling more than just a little bold at his demand, though he was uncertain if she would remember any of their time while under the affect of the oil. His hand worked steadily between her legs, his strong, slender fingers rubbing and stroking the silken wetness around her nub until she trembled and cried out with pleasure and relief as he again brought her to climax.

Her arms flew up from where she had clutched the bed linen to embrace him instead, her sharp nails digging painfully into the markings on his back and setting off a chain reaction of swift agony across his entire body, making him snarl with sudden, strong anger and pin her wrists roughly to the bed with one hand. With his other, he pushed her legs further apart and thrust home, burying himself in her to the hilt.

Her cry of pain and attempt to buck him off cooled his rage and gave him a brief pang of remorse for losing his temper and taking her roughly, but he ignored his guilt and focused on the feeling of being inside her, holding her down more securely until she stopped fighting and quieted again, softening beneath him as the aphrodisiac's desire swept her up once more.

Moving her legs to wrap around his waist, he held them there as he sat up so he could gaze down at her while he thrust himself into her, over and over. The tight clamp of her soft body surrounding him, enveloping him, embracing him, was the keenest pleasure he had ever known, and his appetite for her grew even greater.

Fenris somehow lost count of how many times they coupled during the long night, as they seemed evenly matched in their drive, though he knew her desire was not of her own volition, and he wondered if she would ever desire him at all if she were herself.

He was surprised by the rush of possessive satisfaction to hear her scream, call, or whisper his name every time she came, bringing a slight smile to his lips, and he did what he would never dare to do at any other time, lost in the beguiling fantasy and lie of mutual pleasure. He kissed her full, pink lips, his tongue plunging into her mouth to plunder her sweetness there.

Her total surrender and reciprocation, the overwhelming intimacy of kissing her was his favorite part of the entire night, and a memory he knew he was likely to revisit often. He knew he should not allow himself to indulge in such weakness, to open himself up to the possibility of craving for more, as that would never do, but he wanted her that way, and in that moment there was no master there to forbid it.

It was only when he opened his eyes while they kissed that he realized she was gazing at him with intelligence in her eyes, fully lucid once more and aware of everything happening to her, yet for some reason she did not fight him or attempt to flee. Instead, she brushed gentle fingers through his hair and delicately caressed his ears, especially hesitant and careful around the sensitive tips. He groaned in pleasure and felt a rush of gratitude at her acceptance, suddenly determined to give her one final, mind-shattering peak, wanting her to truly know the release he could bring her while she was fully aware and in her right mind. He wanted to believe it possible that some memories might become treasures that would stay with you always.

The look in her eyes as orgasm overtook her was one he recognized, though he had never seen it before in any other. Pleasure, yes, but it was completely vulnerable and open. All she had lived through and more, the grief, loneliness, and the tiniest indomitable sliver of the hope for something better. When he gazed into her blue eyes gone soft with emotion, he found he never wanted to look away, for he saw more than just an unwilling slave and a beautiful woman.

In her, he could see himself too.

~o~