A/N: Someone commissioned me to finish the story. I figure that's plenty of motivation and well more than adequate expression of interest. Please enjoy.
No one came to his room in the morning, so Fenris wandered out. Yes, he was plotting his escape, but that didn't mean he was going to turn down the meals-far better far than he was allowed at Danarius' estate-while he remained. As he neared the little dining room the siblings took their meals in he heard raucous laughter, an unfamiliar voice with an equally unfamiliar lilt to it, so he slipped in quietly as he could manage.
A woman sat at the table with Carver and Bethany, her booted feet propped on the edge of the table and her chair tilted back on hind legs, providing Fenris from the door a clear view of just how little she wore under her belted tunic. Her skin was dusky, her form ample in all regards, but in particular her gloriously long legs. She wore her dark hair held back by a kerchief, and she took the little slice of fruit on the end of her knife between her lips and into her mouth in a lascivious fashion that, despite the strangeness of her and his programming, sent a shock of lust straight to Fenris' groin. She kept her eyes trained on him the whole time, and gave him a hungry, appraising look that made Fenris want to step back out the door and hide-or to grovel for her like he would Hadriana, he wasn't sure any more.
"And just who is this dear, sweet thing? Did you all mean to keep him to yourselves?"
The siblings glanced to one another briefly, and Bethany managed, "This is Fenris. He's a... guest of Aodhan's."
"Is he, now?" The dusky woman tapped the flat of her knife against her lips, and her tongue darted out to lick some remainder of fruity nectar from the blade. "Do you mean a guest or a guest?" There was no mistaking her meaning from her suggestive tone.
"Just a guest," Bethany reassured her, speaking just a little too quickly.
"So that means Aodhan's not got a claim on him? And why not?" Carver was already blushing and hiding his face, and Bethany had flushed lightly but was taking the woman's manner of speech with a great deal more maturity. "Don't be shy, sweet thing. Sit with us. I won't bite unless invited."
Fenris obeyed, moving jerkily over to the table and sitting next to Bethany, across from the stranger, who smiled at him in a mix of genuine kindness and unabashed desire. He ate just as stiffly, in a very utilitarian fashion, and cautious of her as he would be at a table with Hadriana.
"So, how did you come to know the Hawkes?"
"Aodhan stole him," Carver offered, before Fenris could formulate an answer. Everything about the woman exerted an air of danger and allure, a push/pull he couldn't rightly deal with. It stole his wit, and so he was glad for the siblings' interruptions.
"Stole? He's a slave?" She looked surprised a moment, putting her knife down, then grinned widely. "I knew I was a good influence! And Varric, too, he'll want to hear about this to put in one of his books. I can see it now: a noble apostate stealing a handsome slave from a cruel rival magister, and-well, I suppose I'll have to write the steamy bits, I may as well do that while I'm here so I can ask Aodhan for pointers."
Carver covered his eyes, making a vague, horrified sound. "I don't want to hear this. I really don't want to hear this."
Isabela's smile was predatory and intensely amused all at once, one of the great jungle cats of Seheron eying a particularly tasty morsel. She continued her harassment in light tones, but tried to steer away from Fenris for which he was supremely grateful. When the breakfast was done and cleaned up he managed the will to excuse himself, stammering-she was that oppressive in the strength of her personality, that it undid all the fire he'd gained in the past few days-and left.
He walked out to the beach and found a little jut of rock, further down than he'd walked before, to perch on and try to calm himself. He had to leave now, especially if she was going to be around, as if he hadn't been serious enough before. Fenris thought he almost preferred Aodhan to her.
He let the sound of the softly spilling surf and the gentle salt breeze wash over him, fill him, drive away though and emotion. In that sort of pleasantly empty state he watched small long-legged birds pick through the sand, unafraid of their visitor so long as he remained still. A couple of little crabs sifted at the water's edge as well, eyes swiveling about and claws shoveling as though automated. Tiny fish with bright scales flashed just inside the water occasionally. It was peaceful, and he managed to get a hold of himself soon enough.
"There you are, sweet thing."
Taking a deep breath of the sea air, Fenris steeled himself for round two. "Do you require something of me?"
Movement did nothing to break the sounds around them, she was so silent, and Fenris was sure the birds only noticed her by sight, skittering off on their spindly legs. She walked past him, stopped just shy of the current tide line, hands on her hips and unfortunately presenting him with an excellent view of her perfect ass. He couldn't help but stare for just a moment, then looked away, staring down at his bare feet and the rock beneath them.
"Like the ocean, do you?" was not what he expected to hear. It was a game, surely, a trap, but he wasn't sure what just yet.
"I... suppose." Isabela didn't respond, said nothing for a moment that stretched on too long and Fenris grew uncomfortable. "Aodhan has been walking with me here, the past few mornings."
"He's always been a sentimental type." Silence again, for a moment, almost as if she was considering something. "That's why he helps delinquent pirates with too many morals for their own good get back on track." Another pause, and she glanced over one should to him, smiling. "And why he steals handsome slaves from cruel masters."
"Danarius isn't-" But Fenris caught himself, clenched his teeth at the memory of pain from his markings, those red tendrils twined in his mind and the pain of Danarius relieving stress through them, that early on no matter how he'd begged Danarius had never lifted a single finger to stop Hadriana from-
"I've been snooping about Tevinter for a bit now, and Danarius is a pretty common name, you know. They always mean the same person, and never far behind is Hadriana and that slave. I'm in the right circles to know, love. I wasn't sure at first, but-I know."
And that knowledge was frightening. She was strong willed enough she wouldn't need blood magic to make him comply, probably able to take advantage of his conditioning. The prospect made him draw in further on himself, for a moment he felt like a frightened child, a flash of memory-somewhere dark, someone with him, a hand over their mouth, trying not to breathe or flinch or whimper as a shadow passed across their one sliver of light-gone in a flash, but the feeling of it remained and he hated himself in that moment. Fenris thought about throwing himself into the ocean.
"You've nothing to fear, dear." She hadn't moved, or at least her voice hadn't gotten any louder, but Fenris didn't look up, remained submissive, hoping she was like Hadriana and preferred a little fight. "I only bed the willing. Even if it's just 'willing to turn tricks for hard coin'."
Oh, but I'll seem willing enough if you push just so. He said nothing, so she continued, a little laugh under her voice.
"I 'lost' a cargo of slaves, and by a convoluted, suitably unheroic story, lost my ship. Aodhan helped me clean all that up before he came here, got me a new ship. Didn't have to compromise about the whole slavery thing, though I did do something incredibly stupid for him. He's a good man, whether you want to believe that or not. He won't turn you back over, if you're afraid of it."
Whether he's good or not is irrelevant. But again Fenris said nothing.
"You mean to run," was the most frightening thing she'd said so far, and her voice was a little clearer. He looked up, ready to run right now if necessary, but she was long-legged and finely toned and he had little doubt she could run faster, if not longer. She was facing him, arms crossed under her ample bosom. "I can see it in your eyes. If you're going to do it, do it right. I'll give you a ride somewhere safe; you won't owe me, Aodhan will owe me instead. No debts, no tricks Not going to take advantage of you. When we leave you'll come with me, and we'll drop you off in the next safe port."
Something in her demeanor had changed, not a softening but as if she had turned off the predatory air. She was still dangerous and frightening, but she projected it less. That gave him the strength to speak, at least. "What assurances do I have?" His voice sounded hoarse and weak in his own ears, much more vulnerable than he'd like.
"None. You don't know me, and I don't know you, so promises and oaths are meaningless. But do you have any better options?" A little wickedness returned to her face in a subtle grin, and Fenris knew better.
But she was right.
"I won't turn away your charity. But Aodhan-"
"Will let you go without a fuss." She seemed adamant about that, and confident enough that he believed her. "We'll have a little chat. He'll see reason. It will all be clean and painless and then you'll be off for less troubled waters."
And that was that. They shook on it, though Fenris was hesitant, Isabela's grip was firm and just a little too familiar, the heat of her skin enticing in the cool sea breeze-Fenris hadn't realized just how chill he was. She went back to the estate, and he stayed out for a while, still curled in on himself.
He deserved no such charity, and determined that he would remain vigilant, but without such charity he would get nowhere. He had nothing to offer for the service of others, after all.
Fenris passed the afternoon wandering the grounds, the place not yet familiar enough for sentiment but still evoking powerful emotion. He felt as if he had awakened here, in a sense, truly become an individual. He had not gotten what he wanted out of the place, but he had a strange feeling he was getting what he needed and that would suffice. He was not used to having desires, after all, and going without satisfying them would matter little.
He found himself crouching in the training yard, marking symbols in the dust with the tip of one finger-Aodhan's name, as it was written in Fereldan, would surely be power over the man as his own name in Tevine had a strange power over himself.
That evening he marked it again with his fingertips, against the sheets of the too-comfortable bed, a silent prayer. Give me what I need.
Sometime in the night, quiet dreams of the sea shifted; the motion became more carnal and the scents of blood and ash filled him, wrapped up around his brain and became all that he was. Sharp nails dragging across his scalp woke him, a searing kiss on the brow, a familiar touch inside. "Come on, little wolf."
He opened his eyes, sat up in synchronization with the motion of Hadriana crawling off the bed. One of her men had found his leathers, and he put them on without question. He flexed his hands, and the gauntlets creaked satisfyingly, familiar. It was all so familiar.
He didn't ask for a sword, and Hadriana didn't need to speak to let him know, just a little tug in his mind, that he would be taking point. The household had only a smattering of guards since the family was so accomplished themselves, there more for the safety of the servants who lived on the grounds than anything else. They hesitated when they saw Fenris, and those precious seconds were their very last.
It was comfortable, in a way. She wasn't nearly as reassuring in his mind as Danarius, but Hadriana was familiar. He might suffer under her hands, but she would take him back to his Master, who would replace her red tendrils with his own intimate touch, and Fenris wouldn't be alone or confused any more.
Out in the halls he could tell the house was on fire, cloying smoke wafting into the halls, but they meant to be well out before it reached this part of the house. Considering the layout, Fenris guessed they'd set the private chambers, the upper floors of the house, on fire. If the Hawke siblings smothered in their sleep he would feel no remorse for their painless deaths. All the better.
It was as if thinking of them summoned them: Bethany and Isabela appeared out of a stairwell, supporting Carver between them with no small difficulty. Adrenaline made it possible, a calm sort of fear in that state beyond panic that he could practically smell on them. A little tickle in his mind, and he knew what Hadriana was asking, all the old signals remained-he charged.
He couldn't say what prompted him to give a warning growl, but he did, so very like his namesake, and Isabela turned, leaving Bethany alone to shoulder the burden of her sibling's limp form. Bethany staggered to the side, trying to get Carver to the floor gently. Isabela was quick, just as quick as he'd expected, had an elegant dagger in each hand as she dodged and dove in with both blades towards his side, meaning to tear him open, never mind their previous arrangements. And even under the haze of blood magic he understood, in a very clinical fashion, that there was no question in her mind that she should strike to kill.
There was no question in his, either.
Except there was. He phased through the strike, grabbed for her throat, but Isabela leaned back, surprise only coloring her features for a moment when he became ethereal. He had warned her, and once he finally got a hand through flesh, Isabela faltering because she wasn't sure how to fight a foe she couldn't touch, he hurt her, something that would kill her in hours, not instantly. She collapsed into a defensive crouch, one arm covering her stomach and the other holding up a dagger to block with. But she was done, no longer a serious threat. Fenris moved on.
Carver was unconscious, so he didn't bother. As he approached Bethany summoned up a protective bubble around herself and her brother, and sat there clutching him in her lap, staring at Fenris with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"If she knows what's good for her she'll stay like that. We'll be watching the exit, love." Hadriana brushed past him, a little ghost of slender, bloody fingers skittering across his mind. Bethany's gaze captivated him, and he remembered a different time, bruises on her slender throat, the tender attention of her brothers-the warriors who'd accompanied Hadriana brushed past him as well, and she didn't call for him until they'd all passed, playing a little game with him for his disobedience to her unspoken commands. "Heel, boy!"
Fenris turned to follow and never quite made it, a sudden burst of force driving him and about half of Hadriana's guard to the ground. Ice followed, freezing the acrid smoke building up in the hall, and he gasped for breath he hadn't realized he'd been short of. Under pressure growing by the moment, pinning him, slowly crushing him, he could only roll his head aside, and did, looking for the source of the magic even if he already knew.
Aodhan had come home early, and stood at the far end of the hall backlit by falling embers, dressed in plainclothes instead of a mage's robes. He was still impressive, bladed staff held behind him along the slant of his arm, other hand thrust forward from casting the spells. Another man stood next to him, jaw set grimly, his robes-clearly a mage's, but in a foreign, more southern style-covered with a completely ludicrous amount of feathers, and his dirty blond hair pulled back. His own staff was simple, but darkly colored and from this far possibly metal. All this Fenris took in in an instant, the heat of battle still in his limbs.
"I'll cover you," Aodhan's voice drifted this far, and the two mages began advancing, Aodhan casting the spell that kept Fenris pinned again. Hadriana erected a barrier similar to Bethany's and pulled out her bleeding knife, even as her guards crumpled under the force of Aodhan's magic and he advanced on her, stepping over Fenris to interpose himself between his friends and the invader.
The other mage knelt down next to Isabela first, and Fenris felt a sudden flood of energy through his markings as the man all but glowed, the stranger's skin seeming to crack apart for a moment before mending. He put his hands on Isabela's stomach, prodding for the injury, before cold blue flared around them and she gasped.
It was all he got to see before Hadriana's grip fisted in his mind, tugging him up like a hand gripping his hair, and he obeyed because his limbs weren't entirely his own, standing up against the oppressive pressure even as the effort wrenched his joints and cracked his bones.
Aodhan reached out, and while Fenris struggled against the magic settled a hand on the elf's face without looking at him, pushed with that same cold as before, and Fenris and Hadriana both cried out at once-because Aodhan didn't stop, followed that connection as best he could. It left Fenris curled up on the floor, whimpering at the sudden abandonment again, shaking from the hard frost licking his limbs from inside and the jolt of electricity that had come with it, just like last time.
For her part Hadriana's concentration broke, and Fenris had fallen looking away from her, so he only saw the flash of electricity and felt the rush of cold, the magic running like too many fingers across all his tattoos, and heard her scream. He no longer seemed to be effected by Aodhan's oppressive magic, though, and privately relished in the sound of his long-time tormentor in pain even as electricity made him twitch and his mind grew hazier with the cold and the recent push/pull of magic inside.
"Aodhan, what are you-" He didn't recognize the voice speaking the trade tongue, so it must have been the stranger.
"No, let her go. We need to get out of here, now."
"Her men?"
"I hate to say this-we have to see to our own. Come on."
Despite his position Fenris could see just enough to tell when the stranger's dark boots moved into view, and could tell that he and Isabela hauled Carver up between them. They moved away, and he saw no one else and knew they were leaving him behind. He had hoped, for one moment of monumental weakness-but, no, of course not. He wasn't one of their own, and they couldn't spare him the time. Fenris could only hope that the lightning running through his limbs subsided before the building crashed down around him. Or perhaps... this would be its own form of escape, after all, the most sure of all options.
The last thing he expected was to be drawn up in surprisingly strong arms and cradled against a man's chest. He knew who it was by smell, by the feeling of the awkward touch of healing magic that came with it, unable to still the twitching but soothing the pain it brought. He looked up anyway, saw mostly the hard lines of Aodhan's scruffy jaw, the tight draw of his lips. Somewhere around the twitching and the smoke caught in his throat Fenris croaked, "Why-"
Aodhan glanced down at him, the strangely light blue eyes meeting his for once and keeping that contact. It was all Fenris needed to understand, and he accepted what he saw there for truth.
But he would need some time to consider the depth of emotion he had seen in those eyes, and if he was ready to grow into being a part of the Magister's family.