Fenris
Before Fenris could make sense of his surroundings a month came and went. The sun arrived each morning just as it always did, but his day didn't truly begin until he saw her. After all, the sun was just a bringer of light, not gladness or safety or peace or the undefinable swelling and fluttering sensation he felt in his chest when she looked into his eyes. Those were things only Marian could give. Those were things that belonged to her, and her alone.
It took awhile for him to come to terms with the way she made him feel, and even longer before he could admit it to himself. Everything was so terrifyingly dizzy and strange. One minute he would be doing some mundane task, the next he would look up and see the edges of her mouth curl upwards and he swore he was flying. With a surge of revelation he discovered that he lived at the corner of Marian's lips. There was no color or life in his surroundings when she frowned. No air for his lungs when she wasn't near. But when she smiled, something stirred within him and his heart filled with an achingly sweet song. It scared and excited Fenris. He wasn't sure whether to run to or from this strange, beautiful girl who was quickly becoming the center of his universe, but something told him to stay.
The slow sameness of his new life was the perfect frame for Marian. He did not need to focus overmuch on things like milking goats or feeding chickens after the first week or so. It left him free to watch her, to fantasize about absurd things that could never happen between them, and to berate himself for entertaining such ridiculous notions. He knew it could only end in ruin and pain.
And they were friends now, even he couldn't deny that. They bonded over labor and life, over their mutual annoyances and pleasures under the Fereldan summer sun. Soon the days would become shorter, colder, but somehow he knew their friendship could withstand the barren of winter.
Marian, as it turned out, adored his dry wit when it made an appearance. She loved to laugh almost as much as he loved making her laugh. So he found himself - much to his surprise - teasing and ribbing her in a good-natured manner. Nothing cruel, but if someone asked where Marian was, he'd tell them "follow the incessant giggling" or "singing merrily with the creatures of the forest" or "smiling at all the flowers in the field." And once he asked her why she would eat her meal when she could just as well become best friends with it. She got a kick out of that, so he began to refer to every object on the farm as her "friends." There was "pail-friend" and "saddle-friend" and "Why are you kicking rock-friend, Marian? What has he ever done to you?"
He would not have given it up for the entire world.
One rainy afternoon he watched her thumb through a book in an armchair from the corner of his eye. Her eyebrows drew themselves together in concentration as she licked her finger and flipped the page. She looked no less than breathtaking to Fenris. If he were a different man, if he were truly free...
Malcolm drummed his fingers impatiently on the table to get his attention. "Call?"
He nodded absently and placed one of his cookies into the pile in the middle. Then turned over a queen. Malcolm revealed a king.
It was quiet for a few minutes before Marian got up and left the room, pulling his attention back into the game. He sighed.
"You look like someone's stolen your puppy." Malcolm mumbled a moment or two later.
Fenris' furrowed his brow. "Beg pardon?"
"She's just left the room, lad. I'm certain she'll return shortly. No need to look so dejected."
Fenris shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to combat the heat in his cheeks and ears. Was he that transparent? "I'm not sure what you mean."
"Riiight." the older man winked, placing another cookie in the pile. "She loves daisies."
"Sorry?"
"Daisies. The white flowers with the yellow middles? She fancies them. Her daddy gives them to her on her birthday or something."
"Why tell me this?" Fenris asked, calling the bet.
"I wasn't. But there may be someone within earshot who finds the information relevant to their interests."
Fenris smirked. "I see. And hypothetically, if I was this person, how would you react?"
Malcolm propped his feet up on the table until Leandra came out a second later and glared at him and he scrambled to replace them on the floor. The woman seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to her furniture.
"As Marian's father? I'm not thrilled."
"Ah."
"But as your friend? Everyone deserves a little happiness, don't they?"
Fenris considered it. "Deserving" never entered the picture before, never even crossed his mind until he met Marian and eavesdropped on her candid conversation with her horse. People had or they didn't have. Some people were born into slavery, others into wealth and power. Yet here on the farm it seemed to make some sense. Hard work was rewarded with tangible results; a hearty meal, rest and happy animals. A smile earned likewise and the same. And even the lame animals were fed and taken care of. Everyone's needs were met and everyone pulled their own weight. And though at the end of the day he was physically exhausted, Fenris had a sense of fulfillment and belonging. This was not the cruel world of magisters and slavers, of perversion and sadism and corruption. This was a world of gentleness and altruism and equality. It was frighteningly wonderful.
Marian appeared again from behind a corner and he could not help but smile. A strange thing, that. Malcolm snorted across the table and Fenris straightened his features.
"Daisies." he said thoughtfully and placed another cookie in the pile. Malcolm matched his bet.
Fenris turned over the magician and half expected to see Malcolm curse or gripe, but instead he just nodded approvingly and conceded the pile.
"I'll keep that in mind."
A week later while they were in town, they witnessed a mage being apprehended by a group of templars. The mage ran to them and tried to hide behind Marian. Fenris grabbed her up in his arms to protect her.
"Please help! My father is very ill, he needs me!" the mage begged.
"Can't we do something?"
His fingers dug into the flesh of Marian's arms and pulled her away from the girl, placing himself between her and the threat.
The Knight-Captain stepped in and silenced the girl before she could cast anything and they took her back to the Chantry for safekeeping until they could escort her to Kinloch Hold.
"Are you alright?" Fenris asked a moment later, releasing his vice-grip on Marian's arm. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates and her forehead was damp with sweat.
"Just a little shaken up." she answered softly.
"She's gone now. You needn't worry."
Hawke stared at him, confused for a moment or two and then she seemed to gather his meaning. "The girl seemed hardly a danger to us. She just wanted to help her father."
Fenris shook his head. "She is a mage. Mages are dangerous and unpredictable. The templars were right to take her."
"Mages are people, Fenris. Just like you and I."
"Mages are certainly not like you and I. They have access to power no man should have." She frowned deeply at his answer. "I know you want to believe the best of everyone, but some people cannot be given the benefit of the doubt."
"So all mages are untrustworthy?"
"It is not a matter of worthiness, Marian. A python might not strangle you, but even so, would you curl him around your neck? Mages need to be caged. For your safety and theirs."
"You don't honestly believe that, do you? That's complete and utter nonsense, Fenris!"
He tried to still his rage. Marian lived a simple life. She was ignorant of the evils of the magic. It was not her fault she was uninformed.
"Try to understand..."
It was the wrong thing to say.
"Venhedis!" he shouted, much more loudly than he intended.
He glanced around him. The entire village was staring at them. Cursing under his breath, he took Marian by the wrist and pulled her into an alley. Her eyes looked sharp and wholly unfamiliar in her usually kind face.
He paced before her, his nostrils flaring and his fingers raking through his hair. Her eyes followed him back and forth.
She had to know. He needed to make her understand.
"Well?"
He paused in front of her and rounded his shoulders. There was no sense in keeping it a secret forever. If anyone could understand and accept what he was, it was Marian.
"Look at me, Marian. My hair, my markings... This is the sort of thing free mages do. They inflict pain and suffering in order to gain power. That is their nature. The rest of the world is nothing like your farm. There is cruelty, there is greed, and above all else there is indifference, even moreso where magic is involved. You are not the rule, you are the exception. I am a walking testament to this."
"What do you mean?" Her eyes softened, and he feared for a moment that it was with pity rather than concern. He couldn't handle that from her, not from Marian. He would rather her hate than her pity. "Fenris, you can trust me."
He sighed softly and slumped against the wall. "I know."
He told her everything. He told her about the ritual that created him, about the memories he lost, about his master. He even told her about the fog warriors. To his astonishment, she didn't cast him away or berate him. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. Marian did not have a callous bone in her body.
A part of him was frightened that this information would endanger her, somehow. A part of him would rather keep her ignorant of the treachery and malice of the world he knew. Too much of him was just relieved to have told someone.
"Thank you for sharing that with me." she said, kneeling before him.
He gaped at her, wide-eyed and frightened and amazed. "I have never told anyone before."
"No one?"
"You are the first person I have ever met who wasn't driven by their own personal gain. My first friend."
Marian took him gently by the hand. His instincts told him to pull away, to shield himself from her touch. But when he saw the crestfallen look in her eyes, he tentatively slipped his hand back into hers. They both blushed madly at the contact and it was a long time before either of them could meet the other's gaze again.
Seconds or minutes or hours of silence passed where their hands remained joined together and their hopeful eyes stayed glued to one another's before they realized it was getting late and they needed to return. Acorn huffed quietly as Marian mounted her, but Fenris preferred to walk at her side. Neither of them spoke of mages, Tevinter or slaves again for the remainder of the trip home. In fact, not much was said at all, but it was not an awkward silence. Fenris was simply glad to be near Marian, to have a friend.
