Careless
Fenris had fallen asleep in his chair at the Hanged Man. Finally. After hearing that his supposed sister, Varania, would be there the next day, he had spent half the night worrying over whether it was a trap or whether Hawke would come through for him and be there. Most of the others were gone, but Varric was still left with a sleeping elf and Isabella, whose leg had "accidentally" been propped up against Fenris' shins on the table. The less apparent it seemed that Freyja would make a move, the more Isabela made an effort to sidle up to the grouchy warrior.
Varric sat back and watched his dreaming charges, contemplating the past four years since his original big adventure with Hawke in the Deep Roads. He had more story material from this little clan he had joined than he knew what to do with, and he had his ways of storytelling. Most everyone was slowly revealing their secrets and being surprised with some.
Freyja was the one who had cut in and out the most out of all of them. While she continued to accompany their quests when called upon, she had made a name for herself in the underworld as someone who could get things done quickly, quietly, and lethally by herself. She was high on the list of people whose bad side the dwarf wanted to avoid. She had taken up residence in Fenris' mansion and continued to watch his back when she could, but she was often preoccupied with other things. It was like she was afraid to hurt anyone or be hurt if someone got too close. Even Varric, who could get information out of anyone, had trouble digging up her past – at least when it came to Fenris. The more it seemed that Danarius wasn't coming back, the more secluded and suspicious she became. As impossible as it seemed, she sometimes made Fenris look trusting. She had a secret or a grudge that she couldn't let go. But, once in a while, he would ask at a right moment and she would reveal to Varric some huge part of her past. Maybe this was one of those times.
"How was guard duty?" he asked the shadow that had just manifested itself in the doorway of his private suite. Freyja stepped the rest of the way in with a questioning look. "You think I didn't notice you skulking around out there all night?"
She shrugged at the idea of being caught and took a seat next to Varric. She was good at hiding, but not good enough to outdo him. Her sleek leather armor shifted comfortably as she lowered herself into the chair and removed her bow and quiver.
"There is a chance that this could all be a trap. I wanted to make sure it was safe for the night."
"Oh, come on! You're still protecting Broody while, at the same time, pretending he doesn't exist. It's doing nothing for his mood. You know, he's outdone his record for moodiness three times in a month. And yes, I keep a record…mentally. He even mentioned to Madame-Captain-of-the-Guard's dearly beloved that he barely sees you anymore, even though you live in the same house. Yet, like tonight, half the time, you're hiding out in the main hall when he's with us in here."
"Varric, if I don't stay distant and Danarius does come back, it will be bad for both of us. I just…hope it's worth the effort." Did Freyja really underestimate the lad's affection for her that much? She looked calmly at the elf with a flicker of longing in her eyes. "You know, when I first really met Fenris, he was a skinny teenage house slave…and he somehow managed to beat me – a trained fighter – in combat…before the markings."
"So you did know him before he could go all glowey."
"I think you deserve to now, Varric. You've been patient. I wanted to remain distant, but it was my job to teach him and, because he was so vulnerable at the time, protect him. I had already been Danarius' bodyguard for a few years and I knew the pitfalls Fenris would risk if I didn't help him. I grew attached and Danarius saw that from the beginning. And he used it. He knew I had been growing restless in my servitude and told me that, if I ever ran away, he would make Fenris wish he were never born."
"So?"
"So I stayed. That skinny elf's safety became my highest priority, next to my master's. It was a miserable existence. I cared about him, but I had to fight getting too close because I knew it would only tighten my leash. Without really saying anything, Danarius would taunt my affections…he enjoyed that." A look of disgust coated her face. "He didn't happen to mention what would happen if Fenris was the one to get away." She suddenly rose with a shake of the head. "I need a bath after my last task. Tracking someone through the sewers isn't exactly glamorous."
Having said her piece and seen that everything was all clear, Freyja turned to leave, but not before knocking Isabela's foot away from Broody. By the time the other two were fully alert, the rogue was gone. But Fenris still watched where she had disappeared. Perhaps he hadn't really been asleep that whole time after all.
!
Fenris had arrived at his mansion to find Freyja asleep on a couch in one of the sitting rooms – never in the same place more than two nights in a row. When he awoke the next morning, she was gone. When he looked in the bedroom where she kept her weapons and other belongings, he found her armor cleaned and polished on the floor, along with her bow and quiver. He found it odd; she hardly went anywhere without being fully prepared for a fight.
But then he found a letter half-hidden under some clothes. While his reading skills were still elementary at best, he was able to make out that Varania was asking Freyja to meet her early that morning before Fenris came…something about her being nervous about meeting her brother. Everything about it screamed that it was a trap. Why would Freyja let her guard down for this? He needed to collect his friends and go to the Hanged Man quickly. Something was wrong. He just knew it.
!
They were visiting another Magister. Freyja didn't care who. Her master was safely deposited in the dining hall and, after testing her master's drink for poison, she was sent away. It wasn't unusual. He trusted her enough, but she didn't think she was supposed to know about what they were discussing. Something about a competition for slaves around the area. It probably didn't concern her.
The bodyguard took her position of pacing the hallway outside the dining room. Anyone who passed – slaves, servants, or nobles – veered around her. She wasn't really physically imposing, but her piercing gaze, her black leather, her weapons, and her reputation did the trick. Anyone who knew Danarius firsthand also knew that he was well protected.
Her days were a nightmare and her nights were even worse, between her slave status, Hadriana, and Danarius. She owed that scum no allegiance, yet she protected him with her life. Perhaps that was what scared people the most about her – that they didn't know why Danarius had such loyalty. What made it even worse was that she had once known freedom. She had lost it because she cared more for the people she loved than for her own safety. Now she paid for that by protecting a person she hated. One day, she would find the courage to plan her escape. Maybe she would go to Ferelden or Rivain or the Free Marches. Anywhere but here.
But here she was. And she hated herself for it. Right now, this was as good as life was going to get. She had no experience in the real world on her own; everyone who was anyone knew her face from following Danarius; she had no money or resources; and, if she was caught… That was what hindered her the most, perhaps. From Day One, Danarius knew what made her tick. She tried pushing everyone away, but she always somehow ended up getting attached to a slave or an animal. Then, Danarius would notice and either kill or maim the creature that had gained her affection just to watch her internal struggle – he loved to try making her mask of indifference fall away in anguish. It was a never-ending cycle, until half a year ago. She had finally resolved to never get attached to anything ever again. Danarius was clearly bored. She hated him, so why did she stay? The slave shivered; she didn't want to answer that question.
"Excuse me?" Freyja looked up from her brooding to find a teenage redheaded elf girl standing before her. The girl held up a piece of fresh bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth. "I saw you come out here and thought you might be hungry. And, if you want, there are extra cots in the slave quarters on the south end of the mansion."
Freyja was stunned, but took the meager meal with a polite nod and smile. This was probably the only food she would get tonight; however, here, she might be able to sneak into the kitchens. Back home, Hadriana frequently stole her dinner just to see Freyja nearly writhing from hunger by morning. That young mage was out of control.
The slave elf nervously began walking away. For a moment, the bodyguard remained silent, but she finally cursed under her breath and raised her voice.
"What is your name?"
The elf turned back, still fidgeting timidly.
"My name is Varania."
"You are a slave here?"
"With my mother and brother."
Her heart was growing cold with time – she could already sense it – but she was still touched by this selfless gesture. Too soon would the child learn that slaves couldn't afford to do this.
"I am Freyja. You have done me a great service, Varania. I will not forget it."
!
Freyja, still smelling like a sewer, dragged herself to Fenris' mansion from checking on him at the Hanged Man. Fenris had been more than stressed by the idea of meeting his long-lost sister the next day. As she approached the mansion, she found an envelope with her name stuck in the door. She first entered the house and went to her storage room before bothering to open it in the lamplight.
Freyja,
I know it has been a long time and you will likely not remember me, but my name is Varania. When you came to visit my former master with Danarius many years ago, I was the slave who gave you food and a place to sleep. As you have likely heard, I am Fenris' sister and am to meet him tomorrow; however, I can't help but be nervous. If there is any chance you could meet me in the morning before he comes, I could use a friend.
Varania
As she cleaned her armor, Freyja considered this request. She only had one encounter with Varania to go on to judge her character, and Fenris had a feeling that this was all a trap. On the other hand, Varania was a free woman now and only came to this city because Fenris convinced her. It was likely that she needed a friend who knew the new Fenris. And, however small the action had been, she owed Varania for that kindness all those years ago.
Resolved, Freyja set aside her armor. Varania needed a friend tomorrow, not a warrior.
!
The woman anxiously blew the hair out of her face that was falling out of the ponytail. Resting her hands on the hilts of her daggers, Freyja couldn't help but feel naked without her leather and bow. Her instincts were suddenly kicking into high gear for paranoia. But a redheaded elf woman sitting at the back of the main tavern settled her fears for now. Varania looked up with a spooked expression when she approached, but she smiled a little when Freyja sat across from her. Nervous little thing.
"I didn't think you'd come," the elf began with a sigh. "I thought, since Fenris didn't come the moment I arrived, he was too scared or suspicious."
"He will come," the woman assured her. "It's been hard for him. After having his memory wiped, he wasn't aware of any life he had before the markings."
"Why didn't Danarius have your memory wiped?"
"The same reason he didn't always let me eat my dinner. It was more entertaining for me to have my memories. They were what I fed off of for my guilt and personal punishment. Did you ever try to find Fenris after he came to Danarius?"
"I was busy caring for my mother and starting a new life with no money," Varania said somewhat bitterly. "Leto was the last thing on my mind for kind thoughts."
"You seem to be doing well enough now." Varania suddenly looked at the front door and Freyja's whole body tensed up. She had made a critical mistake in coming. The woman turned slightly to see three soldiers slowly walking towards her. More were coming down the stairs, blocking any escape out the back. She turned back to her almost friend with sparks practically flying out of her eyes. "Why? I was here as a friend and you do this?"
"I'm sorry. I truly am. But, with my mother gone, I was trapped…until the Magister came and offered me the opportunity of a lifetime."
It felt like a shard of ice had just plunged into Freyja's heart. All this running. For nothing?
"Magister?"
"Hello, Freyja." That shard of ice delved deeper at the sound of that voice. Coming down the stairs was her nightmare. Danarius. "Come now, dear girl, don't be shy. Come greet your old master!"
Freyja rose, her knuckles turning white from clinging to her drawn dagger, and approached the cruel mage. She hated him. She was going to kill him now, while she had the chance.
"Why?" she hissed, keeping a safe distance from the man. "Why shouldn't I kill you now? Why have you dared come after me after all these years, after I killed all of the men you sent?"
He smiled that smile of his and a chill ran down her spine.
"My dear, you know you and Fenris are my most prized possessions. Life isn't the same without you." He fully closed the gap between them and slowly grasped her armed wrist, lowering his intoxicating voice. "Did you ever think you had truly gotten away from me? Just as you protected me, I protected you. You are not made for this life. You and I, we make the perfect…team."
Freyja couldn't hide her growing disgust.
"A team where you take all the advantages of your position and I am no more than a pawn with weapons? I think I prefer freedom. I have friends, employment, a life – I would never give it up just like that. You think you can come here and just take me with no effort? You're wrong. I'd rather die first."
In her smug statement, she let her guard down. Danarius had been hiding a knife in his hand and it was now embedded deep in her back. Her own weapon clattered to the floor. As she gasped in pain, the mage's pretentious attitude only heightened. And he didn't let go of the dagger in her flesh as he whispered in her ear with paralyzing gentleness.
"I know. You forget, my little bird, that I know everything there is to know about you. I know that you and Fenris feed off of each other for morale. You always did, even when you tried to shun him and you would squabble. It was quite special to watch. Even now, you're trying to think of how to save him and, despite his self-preserving nature, my little wolf will do everything he can to protect you. I look forward to how this plays out before I take you both back with me to Tevinter. You will not be flying much longer, my bird."
He finally released the dagger and she melted into the arms of the soldiers, who dragged her up the stairs. The pain of the blade shifting around in her torso sent rainbows of color dancing past her vision.
She had to warn Fenris. She had to…
!
"You resilience always amazed me."
Danarius' voice sounded foggy as Freyja struggled to wake up. The only sensation she felt was a pounding, dull agony radiating from the knife…still in her back. Well, if he removed it, she would likely bleed out. For now, she just needed to focus on not leaning wrong against the wall and driving it even further. He likely wanted to keep her alive, at least for now. The mage was just sitting there in all his glory, sipping his wine.
"Fenris…" she breathed. Was he dead? Did he get away? Or had he not come yet?
"He was reported to be on his way here with a few friends. In fact…" He suddenly rose from his seat and forced Freyja to stand. She clenched her teeth to avoid crying out as the knife moved. If she showed too much pain, Danarius would punish her. "…we should be ready to greet him when he arrives." Then, the slaver glanced down at the blade as if he had just noticed it. "Oh. Sorry about that, my dear. I didn't want you making a mess on the floor just yet."
Then he did it. He pulled the knife out of her back, renewing all the pain it had caused going in. Then she did cry out. Danarius merely pressed his arm across her shoulders to keep her from sliding back down. She could feel the blood spreading, hot against her skin. Danarius was far from forgiving. She couldn't let him torture Fenris like this too. Or, rather, she couldn't stand to watch him hurt Fenris like this. That ridiculous elf had no idea.
"Let…" She took a second to catch her breath. "I will come without a fight, Danarius. Just…let Fenris go free."
Danarius simply smiled. She shouldn't have said it. She should have threatened to kill herself or… She wasn't thinking clearly. Any time she ever showed a sign of resistance, Fenris was his weapon.