SHACKLE BOUND

Summary: Hawke tampers with Merrill's eluvian one day and is magically transported back to the past, much to her horror and confusion. What happens when she finds out she'd been transported to Danarius' mansion, where a certain elven slave is held? Slightly AU.

Rated: M for disturbing content.

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Fenris x Hawke

Hello (: This chapter took slightly longer to write because it occurred to me that I am rushing far too much with my previous chapters, therefore I've taken the time to flesh out the characters and their thoughts, actions, descriptions, etc. Hopefully this is a sign that I am improving (: Later I shall be editing the previous chapters to do the same to them, and fixing the mistakes as well. Thank you for the reviews!

Reply to shewolf51: Truly? He always striked me as being 29/30 in Act 1 O: So I made him around 24-ish in this particular story. His age is a bit ambiguous however. Good observation though (:

I am putting 'Spectrum' to the side for now, but Chapter 3 will be up shortly. For now, I am focusing a bit more on 'Shackle Bound'.

Enjoy!

"Words."

'Thoughts, dreams, memories, emphasis, book names, etc.'

Hawke sighed, sitting atop the remains of what used to be a lavish guest bed, trying to figure out what on earth was happening to her. The bed creaked from underneath her from lack of use and the covers, once swan-white, were blackened and charred from the fire of Hawke's spell. Everything else that the fire had touched was charred, and most of the carpet was gone, swallowed up by the fire. Her eyes lowered and she brought up her knees to her chest, counting the passing minutes, breathing softly. She wondered if it was time yet for Fenris to come visit her. Thinking of him instantly conjured up his image in Hawke's mind. He was as tall as ever, hunched over as always, alert for instructions and forever wary of his surroundings. His hair had the same softness and volume that it always had, that Hawke used to love to stroke when he wasn't looking back in Kirkwall.

But this Fenris was… different. He was not like the bitter and brutal Fenris she had known before; this Fenris was afraid, a small child in the body of a full-grown man. He was Fenris stripped of his thick shell, revealing the fear that she knew even the bitter Fenris harbored. 'He is Fenris, and yet he is not.' It did not go unnoticed by Hawke, the way he walked unsteadily, or the way his eyes flashed with anxiety every time Danarius called his name, trembling with fear mixed with the budding seed of hate planted in his heart. She longed to comfort him, to tell him it's alright, to feed him and hug him, for he was little more than a defenseless pup, circled by hungry wolves. Most of all, however, she wished to ask for his help on how to get them both back from this nightmare. Her hands suddenly traveled up her throat, cursing the one thing she needed the most at this moment and did not have.

Vainly, she tried to clear her throat, emitting only a soft coughing sound. She opened her mouth to scream, to try to force her voice out, but her screams were heard only in her mind, and she huffed frustratedly, her hot temper flaring. Anger burned in her heart, cursing Danarius with every distasteful word she knew in Arcanum for taking away her one way of communication, and she knew that she'd have to come up with a plan later to get back her voice somehow. She knew that Fenris could not write, so she couldn't ask her questions on paper. Hawke sighed. At least, for now, she would be able to give him food and water.

She looked around her room, taking in the surroundings. Despite the considerable impact that the flames have made on the room, it was in fairly good shape, the black that the flames left against the white of the furniture in the room made an almost attractive contrast, Hawke mused. She saw a desk adjacent to the large bed that sat to one side of the room, and a large, ceiling-to-floor window with elegant white curtains, where the bottoms have been burned black. Across the room, there was a vanity, the front of it charred, but the mirror was still intact, as were the drawers. As Hawke inspected her room, her eyes fell upon a calendar that hung next to the vanity. Curiously, she got up to look it over, wondering what the date was. She walked across the room, her dress flowing like water behind her, until she reached the calendar, where she yanked it off the wall and hopped back to her bed, sitting cross-legged and looking it over. She did not get past the first page.

'Calendar of 9:25 Dragon Age'

Hawke's hands stopped midway.

9:25 Dragon?

Hawke frowned. Surely this was a mistake. It was currently 9:34 Dragon, wasn't it? 9:25 Dragon was five years before she even left Lothering. Was this calendar extremely out of date or something?

Hawke's frown deepened as she began to try to make sense out of what was happening. She was in Danarius' mansion, Fenris was his... slave, and he did not appear to recognize her. In addition, he had black hair, and had no lyrium markings...

Hawke glanced once again at the calendar. If it was correct about the date, then was it possible that...?

'No, that's silly. Merrill never said anything about eluvians being able to time travel,' thought Hawke, trying to dismiss the thought, but it still lingered in her mind.

'Was it possible that the mirror made me go back in time?'

As Hawke continued to think of the possibilities, a timid knock interrupted her musings. Her head snapped to the door, and Hawke's heart jumped. Quickly, she opened her mouth to yell, "Come in!". No sound came from her mouth, and Hawke rolled her eyes at her forgetfulness, throwing herself off the bed exasperatedly. She marched over to the door and grasped the knob, pausing to think.

'What am I supposed to do...?' thought Hawke apprehensively, considering the communication barrier. She wondered if Fenris knew about her getting her voice taken away, and she shook her head, knowing that there was only one way to find out. She put on a confident face.

She slowly opened the door a crack, peering outside inquisitively, and spied a mop of black hair behind the edge of the door, the bearer keeping their head down. She put on a pleasant smile and opened the door fully, and watched as Leto looked up, his forest green eyes catching hers. She nodded to him, politely allowing him to step inside the room. He kept his head down, eyes glued to the floor as he shuffled slowly into the room, and Hawke wondered what it was he was thinking of.

'He's starving, isn't he?' thought Hawke sadly, watching him eye the platter of food he was carrying longingly. She sat back onto her bed, watching him stand awkwardly just inside the room. He looked to her questioningly.

"Where would you have me to place this, mistress?" he asked quietly, his voice a defeated tone. It lacked the slightly growling timbre that the Fenris she knew had; yet another difference Hawke noticed between the two elves. It was then that Hawke noticed that he'd called her 'mistress'. Hawke did a double-take at this and shook her head to him fervently, making an 'X' to him with her arms. Leto stared suspiciously at her, platter still in hand.

"Am I to understand that you do not wish to be called 'mistress'?" he asked slowly. Hawke was thrilled by his fast comprehension, nodding beamingly.

"Then what am I to call you, if not mistress?" he asked again. Hawke stared at him blankly. It became quite clear soon that he was not yet informed that she couldn't speak. He looked at her patiently, waiting for an answer. An idea suddenly hit Hawke, and she looked around her room, searching for some paper and a writing utensil. Her eyes spotted a drawing book on the white marble desk adjacent to her bed, only slightly burned along the edges, along with a metal cup sitting on it, holding an assortment of pens and charcoal pencils. She reached over clumsily for the book over the edge of the bed, grabbing it and a pen out of the cup swiftly.

Her hands gripped the pen excitedly as it caressed the paper, quickly making swift strokes and curves along the paper, formulating the image of a very familiar bird. Her hands moved ungracefully, trying to make the drawing look plausible, and then she held up the paper to show to Leto. He stared at it.

Scritchy-sketchy lines clustered together to form some sort of picture, and Leto furrowed his brows together, trying to decipher it. She pointed to it and mouthed the word 'hawk', smiling. He watched her curiously, and then looked back to the roughly sketched picture.

"Hawk?" he asked cautiously. Hawke nodded enthusiastically. His brows furrowed in understanding.

"Your name is Hawke?" he asked, his eyes locking with hers," Is that what you wish for me to call you?" Hawke nodded, happy at the newfound understanding between the two of them. A thought suddenly dawned on her: this was a way for Hawke to communicate with him. She beckoned Leto to her excitedly, patting a spot beside her on the bed. He remained standing awkwardly near her bed, still holding the platter. Hawke waved her hand towards herself impatiently, signaling that he should sit. He didn't move. Huffing with impatience, Hawke quickly scribbled another picture in the drawing book of him sitting beside her on the bed.

"Are you unable to speak?" he asked her as she drew, trying to keep his voice a polite tone. He always did so as not to offend, remembering the last time he accidentally offended a guest at Danarius' mansion. Hawke nodded amidst her furious scribbles.

'That would explain much,' thought Leto, observing Hawke, who was finishing up her work.

She turned around the drawing book so that he could see. Leto squinted, looking at a picture of a rather comical stick-figured Leto and Hawke both sitting on the bed, with a very large grin drawn on Leto's face. He shook his head.

"I cannot. I am forbidden from it," he said.

Hawke lowered her book onto her lap slowly, staring up at him unbelievingly. Danarius did not let him sit down with his guests? Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide open, thirsting for an explanation, gazing into his imploringly.

"I am not to impose that I feel like I am an equal to humans by sitting down," explained Leto, his eyes dodging contact with Hawke's. She was appalled, staring at him in disbelief.

'Is the extent of Danarius' abuse so bad that he doesn't even allow Fenris to even sit down?' wondered Hawke, her heart melting with pity. Her tongue itched to ask him, and she sighed internally when she was reminded that she could not. Before she could begin to draw him something new, Leto spoke again.

"Eat. I must still show you a tour of the mansion before you are to sleep," instructed Leto. Hawke looked at him questioningly, then to the platter of food. Soups, fruits, salads, and other exquisite Tevinter cuisine sat on it, painting a mouth-watering picture that made Hawke's stomach grumble. She denied her temptation, suddenly feeling ashamed at herself. She had not eaten for a mere day; she knew the elven slave must have been starving for a long time. Hawke shuddered to think of just how long, and set to drawing another picture for him.

Leto eyed the silent girl scribbling away with suspicion. She had asked him to sit down with her, and his mind began to try to calculate the motive behind her actions. No doubt she was trying to lure him into letting down his guard, so that she could run to Danarius and tell him everything. His heart hardened as he remembered Hadriana, who had done the same thing when she first came to the mansion. She wore the mask of a sweet, playful pupil in Danarius' presence, and Leto almost felt at ease around her at first. She would hand him some food in front of Danarius, carrying the facade, until it came to nightfall, when Leto would retire to his spot in the storage room attic if he had finished all his duties to catch a few hours of sleep. Danarius had instructed him specifically to return there for sleep, out of sight of the guests. Hadriana had the small chore of bringing him his meals every night, and instead of giving him the food, she would levitate the plate with food above his head, watching and laughing cruelly as his weak hands grabbed at it from the air in vain, hopping up and down, and then ceasing the spell when she got bored, watching the platter land on his head with a thud, the food landing on the floor, ruined. One time, she'd practiced her newly-acquired paralyzing spell on him, eating the bits of bread and fruit in front of him, and smiling as his stomach twisted hungrily in agony.

From the first night that she ruined his meals, Hadriana would run to Danarius almost every week, accusing Leto of things he did not do. She would fake crying and lament that Leto had forced himself on her, pretending sorrow and fear, and would smirk behind Danarius' back when he marched Leto to the torture chambers, following closely behind to watch. Leto despised her and feared her simultaneously, realizing the power she had over him. She was, however, good for one thing: she made him realize that all mages were abhorrent, despicable beings, and this 'Hawke' woman was no different.

The woman sitting on the bed gestured to her finished drawing, looking up at him with her big blue eyes. Leto snapped out of his deep thought and gazed at the drawing. It showed a tall stick figure with long black hair, presumably Leto, stuffing food into his mouth. Hawke pointed to the platter of food still in his hands. Leto was stunned, but he maintained a straight face. Did she truly just offer him food, and not in Danarius' presence too?

'This must be a trap,' thought Leto, and he shook his head stubbornly. She's taking advantage of his weakened, hungry state, and would let him have some food, then tell Danarius that he stole it from her or some such, just like Hadriana often did. She likely pretended like she could not speak to trick him into letting down his guard. He refused to fall for her traps.

"You cannot fool me, mage. I know your games, and I know them well. Keep your distance," Leto said lowly, boring holes into Hawke with his eyes, "I know full well that you can speak. I've heard you do so last night. Enough with this silent façade."

The girl's face contorted into one of confusion, and she looked at Leto with a bit of hurt in her eyes. He ignored it, instead placing the platter of food on the desk and shuffling to the doorway. He could not stay there another moment, staring at all of that food.

"We should move on. I shall leave the food for you here to eat at your leisure. For now, however, I must still show you the mansion. If you would follow me," said Leto, looking back at Hawke. She sat complacently, looking at the platter of food he placed on the desk, and then stood up, pouting at him stubbornly, nodding her head to the plate of food. Leto mentally rolled his eyes.

'Childish...' he thought to himself. Sighing, he walked slowly out the door, with a displeased Hawke in tow.

She couldn't believe he refused her food. She'd offered it to him with the purest intentions, and then he cast it back in her face rudely. Hawke wasn't ready to give up just yet, however, as another idea sparked into her head. Following him quietly as he showed her all the rooms, she waited until he would show her where he slept.

Fenris' eyes opened slowly, tired and dazed. He stretched, arching his back tiredly and yawning, looking around the room. Merrill and Varric were fast asleep, their arms draped around each other for warmth, Bianca sitting beside them on a cushion. Fenris couldn't help but smirk at this picture, an image of Varric on his knees, apologizing profusely to Bianca for 'sleeping' with another woman coming to mind. He looked to his left and he saw Anders wide awake, leafing tirelessly through yet another tome, sitting in the same spot on the cushion as he was last night. He stared at him in disbelief. How could someone like him stay up the entire night, aimlessly searching through a half-dozen books all for one person?

"Had a good sleep?" Anders asked tauntingly, his eyes never leaving his page. Fenris scowled and swiftly shot back with a biting comeback.

"Found information worthwhile to help get Hawke back?" asked Fenris sarcastically, to which Anders shut his book and looked up at him, a triumphant smile sitting on his face.

"As a matter of fact, I have. Wake the others up and tell them that I think I've got something."

Before Fenris could even begin to stand up, a loud yawn was heard from Merrill and Varric's direction. The two rubbed their eyes wearily, while Varric quietly lamented, "Geez you two, not so loud..." Anders grinned widely at him and tossed the book he held to Varric, who caught it just before it hit him in the chest.

"Careful Blondie," chided Varric, and then looked down on the book cover. 'Parallel Worlds: A Study on Alternate Realities'.

He frowned. Was this some kind of joke?

"How's this supposed to he-?"

"Just read," insisted Anders, his voice adamant. Varric's eyes darted back to the book, as Merrill scooted up closer to him to see. He slowly opened the book, leafing through it until he reached the blue ribbon bookmark on page 13. He lifted it off the paper, and Merrill read.

"Teleportation devices that send the subject into history may result in an alternative reality, which inevitably leads to the potentially destructive device of changing the past in the present. One such teleportation device that has been known to activate access into an alternate reality is the ancient Arlathan artifact, the 'eluvian' (elvish for 'seeing glass'), a mystical portal mirror that may thrust the user into an alternate universe if a connection between two portal mirrors is severed. The eluvian is able to lead to places beyond the Fade itself, into parallel realities and other, unknown areas."

Anders nodded his head as she read, as if he recited the whole thing in his mind. Varric was flabbergasted.

"Wait, so you're saying that Hawke's in a completely different universe?" he asked incredulously.

"She may, and from the sounds of it, she may be able to change history simply by being there," stated Fenris. Merrill stood up suddenly.

"I'll go get the Keeper again. Keep reading, Anders," she said urgently. He agreed and took back the book from Varric, reading over the lines. Fenris looked on, watching the mystery unfold in front of his eyes as Anders continued reading from the book. He closed his eyes again, silently asking Hawke where in the world (or rather, universe) she was.

Leto silently led Hawke back to her guest chambers, his legs feeling like jelly after so much walking. He saw her to her door, where she waved a timid goodbye to him, and he grunted, acknowledging her. He turned around swiftly and walked back, wishing for the cold comfort of his dark, dry attic. He was glad that the grand staircase was already so close to the guest bedrooms as he limped towards it, illuminated by the bright moon that spilled into the mansion through the giant glass windows. He looked like a warrior who had just come back from a deadly war and was the last man standing in the face of his opponents.

Wearily trudging up the stairs, Leto finally made a turn and entered the storage room, where amongst the various sacks of supplies and tools and crates, he found a small set of stairs leading upwards, and he grabbed the railing and pulled himself up, to his own little haven. As soon as his head rose out of the hole in the floor of the attic, mice feasting on his last ruined meal from two days past squeaked and scurried away, frightened. He'd gotten used to them a long time ago. They were almost like neighbors to him. He took a deep breath and crouched down, fishing for his blanket with both hands, finally grabbing it from underneath an old sack of rice. He held it out in front of him. It was old and rotted, with numerous holes in the corners from where mice had nibbled through with their sharp teeth, but it was the one thing he had from his mothers, a parting gift from months and months ago for when he was first enslaved by Danarius.

He remembered her fondly, the way she completely refused to hand him over to Danarius as a slave at first. She was completely adamant, like a brick wall, against him selling himself out for her sake, but when Varania, his sister, was put in question, she agreed reluctantly. She promised to come visit him every week, to bring him goods and gifts and talk with him about how things were. She kept her promise, at least for a while, and Danarius reluctantly allowed her in from the back door to see him. The visits got more and more rare as the months passed, and eventually, she stopped coming, from Danarius' interference, most likely. Leto knew she was still working. The sooner he received his markings, the sooner he'd free both his sister and his mother from slavery.

Leto looked over his arms, memorizing every scar, every cut on his skin, painted like a morbid picture on an olive canvas. He knew that soon enough, those scars and cuts would be replaced by cold, hard lyrium, and he knew full well that it would hurt. Badly. Excruciatingly. He also knew, however, that it was well worth it. A boon was promised in exchange for a body to experiment upon, and Leto would give up his gladly for the purchase of the release of his mother and sister.

He leaned against some crates, wondering if Hadriana was going to come up tonight to torment him again, mocking his position and flaunting her authority, and decided to put these thoughts to rest and catch some sleep while he could, just in case. His empty churned painfully again. That apple was not enough to return his strength, evidently. He breathed out raggedly, his eyelids heavy with need for sleep. He knew that he would need to eat soon, very soon, and couldn't help wondering if Danarius was aware of Hadriana keeping away his meals. Tomorrow he would ask Danarius for a lunch, he decided, and hoped he would not get whipped. His forest green eyes closed slowly, reveling in the comfort that he was finally at the one place in the entire mansion where he felt at peace.

Hawke waited until he was out of sight, listening to his fading footsteps, and then slowly kicked off her clunky white shoes, knowing what kind of noise they'd make against the cold white floor when she would follow him. She quickly hopped to the desk where Leto had left the platter of food standing, and picked apart the good from the spoilt foods. She took out the soups, knowing that by now they would be far too cold to taste any good, and studiously determined which foods would be the best for him. She left a large salad on the platter, which included a fork, some strange-looking herbs, unspoiled vegetables, and the tall glass of clear, cold water. The water would be the most important thing for him right now, and Hawke made a mental note for herself in order to walk carefully with it.

Taking the platter, Hawke's feet stepped out of the guest room, closing it softly behind her, and then walked smoothly across the opaque floor, following Leto who was ascending up the stairs. He'd never shown her where he slept at night during their tour, and so she knew she had to follow him to give him the food she knew he so desperately needed. He was too stubborn and mistrusting to accept it otherwise. Hawke tiptoed across the floor, watching as her gown floated in the air, her legs getting goose bumps from the chilly air of Tevinter night. She looked up, seeing Leto finally reach the top of the stairs, and even from the bottom, Hawke could see that he was breathing heavily from exertion.

'He needs this,' thought Hawke, looking at the appetizing salad. She began to ascend up the stairs as soon as Leto was out of earshot from the clattering of the glass of water on the platter. Silently, like a shadow, she brought one leg up after the other, silently cursing the limited leg space that her gown offered, and longing to be back in her comfortable mage robes. She soon reached the top, and saw Leto just as he entered what she remembered to be the storage room.

'Does he sleep there?' thought Hawke, confused. She slowly made to follow him, until she was stopped by a cold hand on her shoulder. Hawke froze.

"Where do you think you're going with that, 'kitten'?'' asked a familiar feminine voice. Hawke turned around slowly, her eyes meeting cold blue ones instantly. Hadriana stood and looked like the cat that swallowed the canary, bearing a sneaky, knowing smile. Hawke opened her mouth accidentally, then closed it and motioned to the storage room.

'I really need to get used to this...' thought Hawke exasperatedly. Hadriana did not seem to notice her mistake and simply asked another question.

"Is that for Fenris?" she asked, pointing to the plate of food. Hawke nodded.

"Hmm... I see... a bit fancy for a slave, no? I was on my way there myself. Fenris and I have a... close connection," Hadriana giggled. Hawke did not like the tone of her voice and moved away cautiously. Hadriana noticed her discomfort and smiled.

"Ah, well, I suppose I shall visit him another night then. Such a sweet girl you are, bringing him his dinner," cooed Hadriana, winding her up. Hawke gave her a look, and moved onwards towards the storage room. Hadriana scowled at her and grabbed her arm suddenly, yanking it to her. Hawke gasped silently, nearly dropping the platter. The glass of water shook, almost spilling its contents.

"Listen here, you stuck-up little bitch. I'm Master Danarius' favorite, you understand me? Do not get in the way. I will not let one pretentious little harlot ruin my reputation as a mage prodigy. Understand?" spat Hadriana, her vice-like grip cutting off nearly all of the circulation on Hawke's wrist. Hawke raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

'As if I want to be your abusive-ass master's favorite,' she thought sarcastically. She yanked back her hand and calmly walked away from Hadriana, hearing her huff in anger in the background. She entered the storage room not too far away, closing the door behind her, and cursing Hadriana in her head when she realized that she lost sight of Leto. Looking around the room, Hawke saw only sacks and barrels crowd the room, filled with all sorts of supplies and provisions. Her eyes scanned for Leto, falling only upon sacks and packages and crates. She frowned. Did he really go in here?

Turning around, Hawke spotted a small staircase leading upwards to some sort of attic, and she rushed over to it, taking care not to make any noise. She took hold of the railing in one hand and held the platter in the other and made her way up the stairs, lowering her head. As soon as she reached the attic, dust flying in the air hit her face. She rubbed her nose, resisting the urge to sneeze, and then looked around.

It was a small attic, filled with old possessions and more supplies. Hawke spotted a large assortment of paintings on one side of unknown people and places. Hawke noticed a large wooden crate with a huddled figure leaning on it, and squinted to make out a sleeping Leto, drowning in the peaceful oblivion of sleep. She approached him silently, thankful that she had taken off her shoes, then crouched down, placing her platter down beside his sleeping figure so that it would be the first thing he saw when he woke up. Smiling, she mouthed 'bon appetite' before departing briskly, turning back to descend back down the stairs, cursing mentally when she stubbed her toe audibly against the wall in the darkness of the storage room.

Soon enough, she was back in her own room, snuggling up in the covers of her bed and putting her unpleasant experience with Hadriana to the back of her mind.

Hope you've enjoyed that last chapter ;)

Also I hope the bit with the 'parallel universes' didn't turn anyone off from the story. I thought it might add an interesting element to the story. Tell me what you guys think (:

Cheers!