They continued in this fashion for weeks, Fenris silently obsessing over the strange body slave, tentatively reaching out to be rebuffed or, occasionally, rewarded with bits of information or affectionate touches. It was a pattern that Fenris gladly sank into; it granted him some measure of peace, having a routine, and he clung to the gestures of Hawke's care as one might cling to bits of floatsam while being tossed about by waves. Hawke was not always kind, but, while often impatient, she was never cruel. He had even asked her, once, if she knew anything of him or his life before the markings. She gave him a rare, sad smile then.
"I'm sorry. I don't know. Whoever you were, it wasn't one of Master's slaves. I never saw you before you received your training."
Everything changed, however, when the master's apprentice returned from whatever hole she had disappeared to.
Fenris had met the apprentice only once before, and almost immediately she had reminded him of a snake, coiled and poised to strike at the first opportunity. It was one of the (only) blessings of being counted among the master's favorites-the apprentice could not touch Fenris without the master's express permission, and unlike most other magisters, the master did not share often. The master denied all of the apprentice's attempts to bed Fenris, to the snake's increasing ire. Fenris silently (gloated) thanked whatever god there was above that she would not be touching him anytime soon-the glimpses he caught of her face from under his fringe of hair promised nothing good if she ever did. In the end, however, it was Hawke that paid the price for his status as valuable.
Fenris had not seen Hawke for several days. It wasn't unusual for her to disappear into the master's chambers for extended periods of time, but Fenris couldn't shake a nagging feeling that something was off. He happened upon her in the bathing room a few days after the master had told the snake, in no uncertain terms, that she would not be taking Fenris to bed anytime soon. Fenris had reveled in this small victory; but it seemed the snake had found another target for her rage, and the master had not been so kind to Hawke.
She was in an isolated corner of the room, hot water streaming down her lithe form and no doubt burning the whelps crossing her back. She was red-faced, scrubbing harshly at her skin. Fenris was at her side an instant later. He cared for her (loved her) in his own strange, broken way, and she for him (please, please); Fenris would not let her tear the hide from her own body.
He took the cloth from her hand, and she turned, lashing out at her possible attacker. When she saw it was him, she choked out a harsh sob and fell into his arms. He slid down the wall to the floor with her, and took a moment to marvel at this reversal of positions (protector, always, for her). She was crying in earnest now, and it frightened him. He shushed her as best he could, but his kindness only seemed to inflame her tears.
"Sh-she...made me-with my brother-" she managed to choke out in between sobs. Fenris had no doubt as to whom Hawke was referring. The snake truly had no soul. "She just kept whipping me and-and I couldn't-"
"It's alright, Hawke. It's going to be alright," he whispered.
"No, Fenris. It will never be alright."
And so he sat there, on the cold tile floor, stroking Hawke's hair in a vain effort to calm her, until the other slaves came looking for them both. Fenris watched her walk away with none of her usual swagger, and felt a strange heaviness settle in his chest.