F is for frightening, fluff, FUN, frappuccinos and Fenris! (And…some other…naughty things. ;P)

Shouting out to the people who have added Anachronism to their alert list and me to their favorite authors list! –waveexcitedohmahgahhappiness-

Never give a sword to a man who can't dance. - Confucius

08. Dance of the Hour

Mage.

I leaned my back against the wall, paling as I realized where I was and the significance of what she just said. I gaped at Svanna, my vocabulary momentarily forgotten.

"E-excuse me?" I stuttered, eyes wide.

She knows.

Oh, Maker, she knows, she knows.

"Don't bother looking surprised," Svanna said with a scowl on her sharp face. "You are hardly proficient at hiding what you are, especially to those of us who are sensitive to such crafts."

"S-sensitive?" I jerked as she took a step sideways and inhaled. "What are you playing at?"

"What am I playing at?" she barked harshly, the lines on her face exaggerated with anger. "You would be better served to dissect what you are playing at, child!" Svanna took a step back and began to pace in the tiny room. "Do you have any idea what sort of damage you have caused since you arrived?" She shook her head angrily, her feet quickening their rapid pace. "Punishments, disruptions, even death," she seethed. "Everyone else must endure while you suffer not for your crimes!"

I did not know what to say; I stared, eyes wide at the frenzied woman before me, unsure of how to diffuse her.

"No," Svanna stopped her hurried pacing to stare at me, her eyes narrowed. "No, this is not about you. This is about Leto; this is about the two of you being foolish together." She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Stay away from him."

My eyes snapped to meet hers. "No."

Svanna glared. "You had Kornyn killed." Her words bit at me, and I flinched at the fury in her voice. "I will not see Leto suffer the same treatment."

I sucked in a breath. "I will notlet-"

"That is not up to you!" she exploded, her hands flying to her sides in fists. "You are a danger to the people of this house, Marian, and I will not have you toying around when lives are at stake!"

"Do you really think that I would allow something to happen to him? To –" Fenris "Leto?" I clenched my teeth together in anger at the gallshe had.

"Why not? You have allowed others to suffer for your mistakes before," Svanna said, composing herself minimally. She wiped stray strands of dark hair from her face, sticking them into the bun atop her head. "Is it so strange that I would worry for – for a boy that has grown beneath my tutelage?" She shook her head, a look of disgust crossing her face. "I have known this life far longer than you have, and I know the consequences that follow witless humanssuch as yourself."

My mouth fell open at her audacity. "Witless?" I growled, pushing from the wall to stand at my full height. "You think I have not had any wit to last as long as I have?" My own fists clenched in anger and I felt the vein in my temple pound away with my frantic pulse at our escalating verbal battle. "If I were truly witless, I would have been dead before I even set foot in this mansion."

In the tense silence that followed our outbursts, Svanna and I glared at each other. She straightened her skirt, tugging at the wrinkles. "Stay away from Leto," she warned again.

"I am afraid that I cannot do that." Not for her. Not for anyone.

"Even for his life?" she challenged.

I closed my eyes, hiding them from her piercing orange ones. "I-"

"Never mind." Svanna breathed, and I saw the composed woman that I knew her to be. She cleared her throat. "I…forgive me," she said, closing her eyes and clutching her throat as if pained. "Kornyn…" She shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together, puckering the lines on the sides of her mouth. When her eyes reopened, they were glassy. "It is time you rejoined the rest of us; the Mistress has added longer working hours as further penance. Go downstairs and clean the floors of the hallways; I want them spotless by noon."

My mouth popped open, yet again, as she swiftly exited the room and left the door swinging open behind her.

-DH-

Glaring at the door to the kitchens, I growled under my breath, scrubbing the floor in one the hallways.

After the shock of Svanna's interception had worn off, I realized my prime response was anger.

What right does she have to tell me my business?

Fenris was old enough to make his own decisions; Maker forbid someone think for themselves in this hellhole of a prison. No, all of our decisions were made by a haughty Magister and her pathetic, spoiled daughter; and when they were not made by either of them, we were given orders and being judged by Svanna.

I raged, wearing a hole into the grand wooden floors with my furious rubbing, mentally ticking off a list of different insults with each sweep of the rag. Stupid, annoying, nosy, bitchy, confusing...

I was lathering the rag with more suds from my pail when I heard it: the sound of faint music drifting down the empty corridor. My brow pulled together and my head snapped up; I cocked my neck, trying to pinpoint the direction from which the curious sound came.

Dumping my washrag into the bucket and standing, I picked my way delicately down the hall, curiosity getting the better of me yet again as I tiptoed, hoping not to disturb whatever was happening. My bare feet slapped against the floor lightly, but it could hardly be heard over the faint music floating in the air.

The music...the closer I approached it, the easier it was to place. It originated from the wing I had never laid eyes on, as it was hardly used and as such seldom cleaned. It was a waltz, I assumed; before my mother had given up teaching me to be a well-rounded lady, she insisted that I attend local dances and balls. I had enough experience to guess at the dance and the music, perhaps even the instruments if I could hear them well enough.

What these instruments spun sounded similar to what I had danced to; the rising and falling chords, the spinning, dizzying melody. By ear, I placed a hydraulus, a lyra, and a tibia. I could not tell if there was more than one of each without looking for myself, but I was too afraid to rush in and get into trouble.

I smirked to myself as I tiptoed down the hall. Part of me realized this was just me getting back at Svanna for intruding upon my personal life; I knew, in some twisted, dark form of expression, that she meant well. She would be absolutely crimson with anger if she saw me here, abandoning my work for an idle fancy, especially in light of recent events.

Still, the music was a mystery.

One I intended to solve.

Tremendous luck found me in the form of a cracked door; I bit my lip to hide my glee as I leaned forward, peeking into the room. I could not see anyone, at first; then, as the music drastically dropped and subsequently rose, and two figures rocked into my view.

I gasped when I saw him: he looked absolutely stunning in a plain white tunic and matching pants; they juxtaposed marvelously with his darkly toned skin and dusky hair, and my eyes widened when I saw him bend over Amelia, one hand on hers, the other under her arm. What the hell?

The music recommenced the quick tempo once more, the flowing melody a fine tribute to the musicians that were playing. Fenris spun Amelia the bitch daughter around gracefully on the marble floor, her heels clicking off time with the uplifting beat. He moved with a grace that shadowed him naturally in everything he did, lightly stepping his bare feet in a swift pattern set to the delicate pacing of the music, leading the magister's daughter in soft, measured circles about the dance floor. Her elbow rested on his uncomfortably; he was too lanky for a perfect fit, and she had to stretch her limbs to stay in place with his. Glancing down at their feet, I winced for his sake when her inconsiderate heels stomped on his bare toes.

Fenris could have been dancing by himself and it would have been a much more beautiful sight to behold; the way he glided smoothly, twirling and gliding, entranced me completely.

I never knew he could dance. I would have dragged him to a ball, if I had had any indication that he would have such talent for the act.

It made sense that a person so efficient in battle would also be a dancer; the controlled movement, the pacing, the smooth form - all elements added together. Just throw in a blade, subtract the music, and you would have the fine warrior I knew him to be.

I flinched every time a heeled foot landed on his, knowing it had to hurt like hell. It was a mercy when the music stopped and Amelia sniffed, backing away from him.

"That's enough practice," she said, her nasally voice grating my ears. "Mother doesn't have to know it was not a full hour."

"Whatever you wish, Mistress," Fenris responded, his hands falling to his sides. I grimaced; he could be punished if the Magister found out about Amelia dismissing him early, but it was not his decision to make.

"Amon," she cried, stalking from the room, her fancy shoes clicking sharply on the marble floors. "Fetch me-" her words were cut off by the hard oak wall as the door shut behind her. The group of elves playing the instruments dispersed, apparently dismissed.

Fenris busied himself with righting the instruments, a care kit on hand to care for any faults in their glossy shine. He put the devices away in their separate cases for use some other time, presumably for the next waltz lessons. I stashed my smile in the hallway and tentatively snuck into the room, hoping to catch him off guard.

For once.

I walked slowly on bare feet, not making a sound, sneaking, pressing the balls of my feet easily against the floor, careful to be-

"Hello, Marian," Fenris said quietly, not turning around. "You will get into trouble if you are found here."

I pouted, disappointed.

"I didn't know you could dance," I said, ignoring his unveiled hint. I was a little put off by how easily he sensed my presence. Was it my smell?

I inhaled, trying to find my own odor in the air.

…it was probably my smell.

"The Mistress had me study the art so I would have the ability to tutor her daughter," Fenris explained. "No teacher will have her."

"No great wonder at that - she abused your feet." I frowned, my eyes dropping to his sore toes. "You are a damn martyr, Fenris."

He turned to flash me a wry smile; and for once, there was no force behind his gaze, even though his words were admonishing. "My name is Leto."

I shrugged. His expression told me that he no longer cared what I called him, so I smiled. "Fenris suits you better."

Fenris rolled his eyes at me, reluctantly indulging himself. "You are a strange woman, Marian."

"And I think I may be as terrible as Amelia when it comes to dancing," I said, sitting on the musician's wooden bench. I felt the dark wood beneath my curled fingers, drumming out an absent-minded pattern. "I always preferred fighting."

"I knew you were a fighter," he said, shaking his head ruefully. "I knew it when they first brought you. No person with such a cocky face could be a simple maid." He leaned against the hydraulus, crossing his arms across his chest. "And I do not think anyone is as bad as that girl when it comes to dancing. I have been trying to teach what I know of the art to her for over a year, yet she still mauls me. I cannot under good conscience allow her to dance with an unsuspecting suitor."

I snorted, trying to muffle the unseemly sound with my hand so it would not echo and alert anyone. "I would give the girl a run for her money," I said, smiling broadly at him, reappraising his white clothes, wondering how they would look on the future Fenris against his stark white hair and lyrium lines. "You, though..." I gazed up at him, met his cool emerald eyes, completely unfazed by my flattery. "You are amazing." My eyes lingered on his dark brown hair a moment before they dipped back to his face.

He pushed off the instrument and held a hand out to me. "Show me."

"Show you what?" I asked, cocking my head.

Fenris raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Show me how you dance," he said patiently.

I shook my head vehemently, stuffing my hands underneath my legs. "No way," I refused, pulling at the itchy fabric of my smelly smock. Why does he get to have nice, pristine clothing, anyway? "There is no way you are getting me onto that floor – unless I am made to scrub it." Stupid dance instructor allowances, probably.I made a face.

If we ended up dancing, I would turn out looking the fool - and it would not be fair for him to have something elseto hold above my head.

Fenris walked back to me slowly until his legs bumped my knees; I stared up at him, my mouth parting as his eyes smoldered into mine. He bent over slightly, leaning around me. Warm palms touched my bare knees; his breath fanned over my mouth, and our noses nearly touched as he spoke. "Please?"

I whined and pouted, knowing he was going to get his way. "But..." I flailed around, trying to find some excuse. "But there's no music!" Stupid, persuasive little shit.

"Then you will have to sing, won't you?" Fenris teased, grabbing my arm and pulling me from my seat. "Please?"

Foot. Mouth.

"I do not know any songs," I sputtered as he grasped my hand, tugging me towards the middle of the floor. I glanced around nervously, wondering what had gotten into him – was he not usually the careful one?

"You must," he said. "Any song will do, as long as there is music." He smiled down at me; I felt terribly short beside him, having to strain my neck to meet his gaze.

He seemed much more calm, adorable with his behavior.

Like a boy with a sweet crush.

I pursed my lips. "Fenris..."

"Why do you call me that?" he asked, narrowing his gleaming eyes. I saw a spark of the taciturn, normal broody Fenris and felt momentarily reassured.

Fenris won't let anything bad happen to us.

I shook my head and smiled. "If I told you, I would have to kill you," I teased, biting the inside of my cheek.

"Then sing," he pushed, straightening his back. "Sing and I will not pester you again about it."

"A tempting offer." Sighing, I conceded, holding out my other hand. He tried to do the thing he did with Amelia on me; he arched his arm up high, mine resting on top of it, which strained my standing position. I glared at him and pulled my arm back to grasp his hand.

"This is how we did it back home," I said, sliding his hand down to just above my hip, right on the slight curve of my waist. He raised an eyebrow at the forward gesture. I placed my hand back on his shoulder, uncompromising, and we began to sway back and forth.

I was thankful that he did not try to make me follow him in a trained, perfect waltz, thus sparing me further embarrassment.

Easy swaying, I could do.

"Sing," Fenris prodded, his hand warm against my skin.

"It's a childish song," I said, my face feeling hot. I wanted to smooth my fingers against my cheeks to ward away the pink that I knew lingered there.

"Sing it anyway," Fenris said.

I grimaced and opened my mouth as he twirled me slowly; I was grateful that we moved not in the wide, graceful lopes but in short, sweet circles.

Inhaling deeply, I thought back to a song my father had sang to us whenever he was in a happy mood. I had fond memories of it, and hoped this humiliating experience wouldn't ruin those for me.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." I cut off, wrinkling my nose in distaste. "It's a stupid song, may I please stop?" I begged, looking up at his level eyes.

"No," Fenris ordered, the corners of his mouth tipping upwards. "Keep going." A shiver travelled down my spine at the soft command from him.

I sighed, dropped my eyes to his chest. I concentrated on moving my feet so they did not stomp on his; Maker knows he did not need any more injuries inflicted upon his poor feet. "You make me happy when skies are gray," I continued, sulking at his shirt and singing slow, hoping my voice did not crack or warble or do anything too horrible. "You'll never know, dear, how much I love you,

"So please don't take my sunshine away."

I licked my lips, and Fenris twirled me again, still moving at a slow pace.

The words, the familiar tune, all reminded me of home, of my Da. I sighed through my nose, missing him.

We kept dancing, and Fenris pulled me closer. I could not help but smile at the sweet contact, at the pressure of his hand on mine and his fingers against my waist. I started the song over, because I didn't know the rest of the words.

I chanced a glance at Fenris and saw him frown. I winced, just knowingI sounded terrible. I knew my singing voice to be as nails on chalk board; it had to be torture for his enhanced elven hearing.

"Sorry," I apologized, dropping my gaze to his clean shirt and wondering again if its only use was for the dancing lessons.

What a waste. He looks handsome in white.

He looks handsome in everything,

the girly voice in the back of my mind purred.

"Don't be," he ordered, voice low. His hard, chiseled jaw brushed across my cheek slightly.

I pressed my grinning lips into his shoulder, as he spun us around effortlessly despite his lanky legs.

Fenris halted our movements slowly, easing us into a motionless figure on the marble. I pressed my foot against his, mimicking stomping on his toes. He rewarded my silliness with a cute smile, raising his feet and jolting me upwards sharply. I clutched his arms in surprise, raising my eyes to watch his reaction.

My breath caught in my throat as I noticed how he towered over me, eyes intense. His hand left mine; it drifted down the curve of my elbow, eased along my waist until he was able to pull me tighter against him.

I would never be able to get a full grasp of what he was thinking; no matter what age he was, the fortress of his eyes would always withhold secrets. I was sure that my secrets all but jumped from my eyes, while Fenris would always be a complex, aching man.

I would always, always be drawn to him. I could see that now; no matter what trials we faced, it was inevitable that we faced them together.

"Fenris?" I whispered, prompting him for further action, curious as to why he was merely staring intently at me. He leaned forward, expression determined-

"What is the meaning of this?" snapped a familiar, throaty voice. We shoved away from each other abruptly, eyes wide, and turned to face Fausta, our heads both appropriately falling to the floor. "Explain yourselves!"

"I was merely showing Marian the duty I perform for your lovely daughter," Fenris said, laying it on thick. "We meant-"

"Do not slander my daughter with your petty flattery!" Fausta scolded scornfully, stalking into the room. "Did you mean to defile the floors? Make little, abominable babies that I would have to auction off, or worse yet, house?" She shook her head angrily. "Intolerable!" She glared at us.

My eyes remained resolutely on the floor; I only chanced glances at her in my periphery.

"Forgive us, Mistress," I said, monotone. "I shall return to my duties-"

"Like hell you will," her sharp voice rang. "I will not harbor a slut within my halls."

My head snapped up, my pride flaring at the insult. She met my gaze with a cold glower.

She pointed an accusatory finger at me. "You," she spat. "You are headstrong. You are unruly." She took a shuddering, enraged breath to calm herself marginally. "I curse the moment I bought you, for you have been but a nuisance since I had you dragged from that ragged cart, you wanton hussy."

I wrinkled my nose.

Did she have to use the word hussy?

I shuddered. Even thinking it upset my stomach.

"You seem to be in need of a proper lesson – a lesson of conduct. You were nothing when I bought you; you remain nothing. You do not deserve the leniency I have allowed you." Fausta inhaled deeply. "You will learn."

Fausta turned her head. "Amon!" she shouted away from us, her voice straining. "Bring the whip."

Fenris inhaled audibly from beside me. I shot him a glance. Being whipped was nothing new; I could not fathom why this would pull a reaction from him.

I was an expert at taking a little pain.

The slave Amon carried in a delicate brass dish with a dome on top; he held it out for the Magister, and she yanked off the top, exposing a disturbing looking leather whip with a glinting tail - chains? - that curved in the dish.

I squinted.

No, they were not chains; they were sharper than that. I swallowed audibly at the sight.

You have faced worse. Remember that. You have faced worse. You were the one in the Thaig. You were the one in the Deep Roads.

Do not give this horrid woman the satisfaction.

I braced myself, holding my shoulders straight and level with my hips. Punishment was going to happen, whether or not my pride was intact, and I would rather have my pride.

"Turn around," she commanded, and I obliged. "Leto, remove her shirt."

"Mistress, I-" Fenris began, a bargaining tone of voice. I closed my eyes, willing him not to fight it. There was no reason for us both to be whipped; he could still get out of this unscathed.

You have already suffered for my transgressions, Fenris.

"Do not defy me," Fausta roared, her face darkening with her upset fury. "Remove. Her. Shirt."

I bit the inside of my cheek when I felt his hands press against the hem of my smock. "Sorry," he whispered quietly in my ear. I did not acknowledge him, afraid I would get him in trouble. He led me to a pillar that was on the side of the room; it was thin, small enough for me to fit my arms comfortably around. Feeling eyes on me, I glanced up, towards the door I had snuck in through; five pairs of eyes watched from the shadows, and one pair of orange stood out among the flock.

Svanna. I could only imagine the gloating I would receive later.

Fenris pulled my smock over my head, leaving me naked, and placed it in my hand. I grasped it tightly in both of my palms and hugged the post, staring studiously at the floor, memorizing each fleck in the white marble. His fingers trailed across my wrist briefly as he pulled away.

"Twenty lashes," Fausta declared. I heard her shoes click across the marble, but with the echoes in the room I could not tell where she was. I heard someone gasp from the door, and Fenris stuttered a breath behind me.

"Mistress-" Fenris started again. A resounding smack echoed across the room.

"Twenty lashes, Leto," Fausta said. "Count, Marian."

"As you wish, Mistress," I said, bracing myself against the pillar. I heard nothing from behind me, no indication of any movement; there was barely any warning, only the whistling of the whip through the air, the clanging of the metal as it shook and rattled, and then sharp agony as it struck my skin. Blood speckled the white pillar as it ripped against me, immediately splitting my skin.

I winced, shuddering against the cold pillar and grasping my smock tightly.

If that was only the first lash...

"One," I whimpered, already regretting my Makerdamn curiosity.

Why did I have to find the ballroom?

Another crack, the scraping of skin; more light blood spatter.

"Two."

It continued forever; my consciousness was narrowed down to the searing mass of pain that was my back and the counting, always counting, numbering my death sentence.

It burned and ached and sweltered and sizzled like fire. My only saving grace was the number; the higher it climbed, the closer I grew to finishing my punishment. The pace was sickeningly slow; with each stroke, more blood grazed the pillar, the wall, the floor. My back dripped with it, a horrifying feeling. My limbs grew numb, my knees weak; I sank, still hugging the pillar, still counting, still aching, smearing my blood across cool marble.

My head went light, and I began to tremble. Did I cry out? I could not hear anymore - sound left me, only pain remained. The rhythmic ripping as the whip struck my back was all that kept me from going under; did I speak? Did numbers come out? I prayed to Andraste that they did; I did not wish further punishment for being unable to count.

Did it end?

Did the pain ever stop?

No, it did not; it stung, and flamed, and burned. Everything hurt, even though that was absurd; only one part of me should hurt, but every limb, every fiber, every molecule of me shook with the pain.

"Clean the floor," I heard the Mistress say. "If this room has not been cleaned by the time I return, there will be twenty more."

My heart leapt.

No.

No, no, no.

Have to clean.

Have to work.

Have to get rid of the blood.

"Bucket...my bucket..." I whispered, feeling weak. So, so weak.

"No, Marian," Fenris said, his voice deep, folding around me and echoing against the walls pleasantly. Arms wrapped around my own, stalling my movements. "You don't have to clean it."

"But...Mistress..."

"I know what she said." Fenris's lips were at my ear, for me only. His hot breath caressed my lobe, my neck. "Rest. Someone else will...they'll get it." Something soft pressed against my head, a light pressure. "I'm sorry."

"My fault," I replied, trying to move. Where were my legs?

Fucking curiosity killed the Hawke.

"I have you," he said. I didn't know what that meant, but I stopped my restless efforts. "Rest, Marian. I have you."

"But..." my mouth was sluggish; my eyes would not open. I found myself unable to respond to him, no matter how badly I wished to. My fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault.

Pana. Kornyn. Fenris. All my fault.

"I can't let you..." My eyes could not see, though I knew they were open. In some part of my mind, this worried me.

"Damn it, Marian," Fenris snapped. "I will not let you bleed out. Quit struggling against me."

Hardness met my back. Had I been set down? When had I even been lifted?

I couldn't tell; everything became fuzzy, from the sensations of touch to the rumbles of his words.

"Fenris," I said, gasping a breath and feeling oddly claustrophobic in my unmoving body. My limbs were gone, my eyes unable to open. I fought against the boundaries of my skin fruitlessly, succumbing to complete unconsciousness.

What silly song do you sing when you're happy?

Note: I tried to be more original with the song choice, but…*shrug* I decided it was best to go with something recognizable and that everyone pretty much knows the tune to. I hate reading lyrics and not knowing how they should be sang!