To Elisabeth: The "fifty lashes" was a fudge on my part; I meant to bring it down before the update, but I must have screwed a little. C: Reminds me not to update when I'm not on my game.

That said, most of us don't have silly songs to sing when we're happy. I would suggest "You and I" by Ingrid Michaelson; I think I'll have it quoted sometime soon, because it brings happiness!

I have mourned, mourned, mourned.
There is no mercy at your hands
and my torment
to you means nothing.
-Natacha Atlas, Kidda

09. Spark

I awoke to the sound of water trickling into a pot. I inhaled sharply, my eyes snapping open. My eyes blurred, but the room was dark; I blinked awake, focusing on the person at my side.

"Svanna?" I asked groggily, still blinking, my lids sticking together. I heard her sigh.

She did not reply, busy wringing out a cloth. I was on a low cot, resting on my stomach. I felt cramped and my back ached and stung. "Are you lightheaded?" Svanna asked brusquely, stretching the cloth in her hand.

My eyes rolled back into my head in relief when she placed the cool cloth over a stripe on my marred back. "Slightly," I whimpered when she dabbed at my raked skin lightly, stinging me. "Where - where is-"

"Leto is bearing his own punishment," Svanna answered pointedly, but without relish. "Pana will be here shortly to take over for me. Do not hesitate to fall back into slumber, human; your body needs to heal, and you have already been unconscious for some time."

"I - I didn't mean..." I swallowed. My tongue was so thick, my voice ragged and coarse; I could hardly understand the words that spewed forth from my mouth. "I didn't mean to-"

"What?" she snapped, abruptly cross. "You did not mean to be caught? To disobey my warning? To be punished for trespassing boundaries?"

I looked to her face to see her arching a thin brow. I had to avert my eyes, ashamed of myself for being so obtuse. Svanna sighed, lowering her head and forcibly softening her expression.

"I warned you of the consequences, Marian," she said, but her voice was not gloating. "I advised you to leave him well alone, did I not?"

"You did," I whispered. "I just..."

"You knew exactly what you were causing," she said sternly, throwing the rag into the dish on the floor beside my cot. She stood on her bare feet, shifting her wool dress to smooth over her legs. "Do not pretend any different. Now the both of you are being punished for your transgressions against the Mistress, and there is not anything to be done to prevent the pain you have inadvertently inflicted upon yourself and Leto."

Fenris suffering through another punishment...I winced, hating myself for being the cause of another of his punishments. "What is she doing to him?" I asked, worried. Would she hurt him as badly as I? Would she incapacitate him?

Would she kill him?

"I assume he is being whipped or caned," Svanna said, voice detached but distress showed in her gaze. I could not be satisfied by her answer. It left much to be imagined; I would not be able to bear it if something terribly unfortunate happened to him.

I pressed my face into the stiff fabric beneath me, pondering the repercussions my actions would have.

It does take two to tango, the voice in my head pointed out. Or waltz.

"Will you expose me?" My voice wavered, though it remained soft. The rough texture of the blanket beneath me chapped my cheek when I spoke.

Svanna had to know what I was referring to.

Silence bore down upon the room; I stopped breathing and tensed as anxiety flashed through me like lightning, freezing my blood.

I heard Svanna exhale. "No," she said slowly, as if deciding on the answer as she said it. "I will not."

My body sank into the cot as I relaxed profusely, my fear dissipating to a miniscule scrap of worry.

Worry that could be easily pushed aside; Fenris was strong, resilient. He would not be tripped by one more.

I should never speak to Fenris again. I should leave him alone, as Svanna had advised; I had brought him so much pain – how could I have ever blamed him for my own troubles?

Svanna had more knowledge than I. I had been beneath Fausta's reign barely a handful of weeks. Who was I to judge what was right and wrong? How could I know what the consequences of certain actions would be?

I had forced him into being with me; I had forced him into conversation. I had manipulated him at every turn, vying for his attention, goading him, egging him on.

Everything unfortunate that had happened thus far had been at the cause of my own doings. I could not help that, but I could help to alter the final outcome.

Footsteps. Svanna was leaving me to my inner turmoil; she shut the door silently behind her as she exited the room.

I should never speak to Fenris again.

My hands fisted the fabric on either side of me. Thinking the sentence wounded me. It was something that was unavoidable; future, past, present - we found a way to be together against all odds.

What did that mean?

Did it mean we were both two stubborn people that had to butt heads, no matter the era?

Or did it have a deeper meaning?

-S-

When I next awoke, I could feel that I was not alone.

My eyes peeled open, languidly exposing the man asleep at my bedside. He hunched against the wall, his expression strained, face gaunt.

"Fenris," I whispered, urging him awake. His eyes blazed open in an instant, revealed so quickly I wondered if he were ever really asleep to begin with.

"Marian," he answered, mouth tight. He slid forward, bracing against the floor with his palms. I felt his gentle lips graze my temple as he sighed with relief. "I feared you would never wake."

"That long?" My head felt fuzzy, full of hot air and fur.

"Long enough." His fingers traced mine, flat on the mat. His eyes slid away from mine, reflexively snapping back.

I grimaced, trying to force a smile to my lips and failing. "Some wicked scars, yeah?"

Fenris exhaled in a gust, a frown thickening his brow. "Yeah," he echoed, leaning back against the wall.

"Are you okay?" I peered up at his face, searching for any sign that the Magister had injured him. My back itched; it felt as if it dripped and festered, and I thanked Andraste it did not feel like raw pain any longer.

"I am as well as I ever am," he replied, looking away from me. I examined his sharp profile for any cause of distress, but could not find any. I relaxed heavily, even as I spotted a tightness in his eyes through the light coming in the crack of the door.

"What's wrong?" I asked, doubt creeping into my mind as I gazed at him warily. He turned his head, worrying me further.

"I'm sorry," he said after several moments of pause.

The words sifted through the heavy air, layering between us.

"We should stop this." My lips formed the words, but the sounds were stinted.

"I know," Fenris agreed, still not looking at me. My eyes dropped to his hip, so close to me.

"We are only hurting each other," I said, depression sinking into my bone marrow. "Every time."

"I know," he said again, voice strained.

"We can't really help the outcomes of this, can we?"

"No," he answered. "We can't." He finally turned his head to face me, light shifting across his face. "But can you stop?"

I exhaled, the carnage of my back protesting with the minimal movement. "Why are you here, if you think this is wrong?"

"I-" he began sharply, put off by my redirection. "I feel guilty for what I have done to you."

"It was not your choice," I pointed out, my hand reaching slowly to touch his clothed leg.

"It could have been." He grimaced, watching the progress of my fingers coolly as they stretched towards him. "You have said as much before."

If you were a mindless slave, you would have no feelings of your own.

My mouth twitched with a pinprick of smug happiness flushed in my chest. "You have been thinking of me," I accused without malice.

His eyes fell bashfully, his pointy ears shifting minutely. "I feel as if that is all I ever do."

"Do you agree, then?" I wondered aloud. "That you ultimately have a choice?"

Fenris's eyes flashed to mine in a heartbeat. "If you believe that, why did you not stop me?" he growled. "Stop the Mistress?"

I pressed my face downwards. "Would it have changed anything?"

He drew back, pausing. "Maybe," he pondered, testing the new scenario. He sighed, leaning heavily against the wall once more, resigned. "No. It would not have."

"Just because I acknowledge my individuality does not mean that I am a fool." I nearly chuckled, but did not wish to set my back aflame. "Despite my last few episodes of idiocy, of course."

"Of course," he murmured, scratching his head lightly as he leaned with his shoulder.

We sat in tense silence, each of us awaiting the other's words. "I do not blame you," I said, needing him to know. "For anything. I know you are not as cruel as your actions imply."

"Thank you," he said dryly, mouth teasing around a loose smile. "Though you have still left my question unanswered."

I tried to recall the question he meant, my head confusing. Then it hit me:

Can you stop?

Stop what?

Stop being myself?

Stop caring for him?

Stop everything?

"Distancing myself from you…" I bit my lip to stifle a barking, hard laugh. "Hurts like hell just to think about." I made certain that my eyes were strong when they met his. "But it hurts worse when I contemplate what could happen to you – to us - because of our hasty actions."

"You have been thinking of me," he teased me with my own words, making me smile.

"I feel as if that is the only thing I ever do," I returned, my smile fading. "You should not be here."

"No," he agreed. "I should not."

But he did not rise from his spot. The action – or his inaction – caused simultaneous hope and dread to blossom in my chest, lump in my throat.

This – whatever we were, whatever we were doing – I could see it plainly killing him. We would overstep lines, crush toes and be slaughtered for disobeying.

But…

If we did not overstep a line…

If we did not crush any toes…

It was still inevitable that we would die.

If we parted ways, vowed to never speak to each other again, there is still the elusive possibility that something else would kill us.

The Magister could, at any time, grow enraged for no reason at all; who needed a reason to beat slaves? We had no say in any right of fairness; we could starve to death, be tortured to death, or just endure…needless suffering.

And for what?

A whim of a woman neither of us gave a shit about?

If we died here, if we were ripped to shreds or left to rot, there would be regret.

Unbearable, pressing, arrogant.

We would forever hate ourselves for giving up the fight.

Fenris would be gone; he would perish beneath a blade, or a staff, or neglect. He would have no choice. Life would be torn away from him too soon; the spark that resided in the nook deep within him would drain from his eyes, removing all of his rage and passion.

Would he be handed over to Danarius?

It was a life I had always known him to have; what right did I have to try and prevent that?

Was I willing to sit and watch as it happened?

The answer already sang in my lethargic blood, feeding breath and hope and fear into my soul. I grew lightheaded at the glorious assurance of the feeling it gave me.

"Fenris," I croaked, feeling my body sag once more as I drained of my excess energy.

I will save you.

"Marian," he responded, his eyes meeting mine before they slid shut. "Are you tired? Should I leave?" He made move to rise, but my hand reached out and clutched at his leg, sending a swift slice of agony through my shoulders.

I winced, biting my teeth together and clenching every muscle I could to stop the spread of pain. I panted as Fenris relaxed warily, waiting for me to catch my breath. I sent him an appreciative, but tired, glance, relaxing. My hand slid from his calf to the floor easily; my eyes closed again, as I was no longer able to hold them open.
"No," I finally responded, my breathing ragged.

He waited patiently, unmoving; I longed to feel the weight of his skin on mine, even a brush of his fingers, but I did not speak up nor move to touch him.

"Promise me." My eyes peeled open as far as they would go; my vision swam, but I trained my eyes on his form. My muscles were weak, my voice a whisper, but I knew he would hear me. I shuddered through a breath, wondering how he would react.

He could not refuse; he had to understand the odds facing us.

And he had not made a move to leave yet.

"Promise me that we will get out of here," I begged, imagining us in a place far away. Lothering, perhaps, or Denerim or Highever. Dancing with Dukes and Duchesses, him clad in white and myself in red; I would dance on his toes and he would growl and sneer at the distasteful people around us, and then we would walk home in the night, our shoes in hand, ready to find a quiet place for love making and happiness.

"You will be on your feet in a matter of days," Fenris said assuredly, though quietly. "The Mistress's favored whip is coated with a fine layer of elfroot to keep the injuries from being deadly; with proper rest and-"

"No," I pressed, unable to feel my limbs any longer. I knew I had to impress my point upon him before I fell back into slumber. "Run away with me, Fenris."

I heard him inhale sharply. Silence stole the small room, the only noise being my rhythmic breathing.

I smelled ammonia and dust; I nearly smiled, knowing that we were in the storage room where I had spent the night with him.

"I cannot say that I have not thought of it." He tested his words carefully.

"We could leave," I murmured gently, my voice weak but my words invigorated. "We could travel to the far reaches of Thedas, where slavery and magisters do not exist. We could be free."

I would risk everything for him; I could see that now. He embodied my heartache, a tormented soul; a wayfarer that shied from contact, a man slow to trust but equipped with a fierce, underlying loyalty that a seldom few were allowed to bear witness to. He was stubborn and vindictive, quick to scorn but honest.

And somewhere, beyond the walls he encased himself within, there was a vulnerability to him, a sweet nature that I had only seen glimpses of before. I knew that if I allowed him to stay here, to be tossed to Danarius, I would never fully lay my eyes upon that side of him.

The Fenris I had first met...the Fenris that shown bright with markings of lyrium...guarded himself tightly. Even if I turned his walls to rubble, he had a thick exoskeleton that hardened him to the more frivolous of emotions and pleasures; that Fenris could never be mine, would never be mine – he would never be anyone's.

Selfish as it may be, I wanted the clearheaded, unspoiled Fenris for myself. I wanted to cultivate his personality, I wanted to watch him grow into a man he would have been, had Danarius not turned him against the world.

"I would not suggest it if I believed that you were not worth the effort or incapable of maintaining freedom. You are worth more than the cards you have been dealt."

My words died as my muscles slacked completely; I felt myself giving into nothingness, resting my mind after the heavy conversation. Fingers drifted into my hair, trailing over my neck and I felt air shift across my skin.

The door creaked open.

"I will return," was his parting promise.

-S-

"Mary," urged a young voice beside me. My eyes cracked open, feeling rusty; I nearly stretched before I caught myself, sparing my back the jolt of pain. "Are you thirsty?

I licked my lips absently, feeling my mouth crack with dryness. "I am." My voice scratched with roughness, and I watched Pana grimace at the grating sound.

"Do you think that you may be able to sit up?" Pana asked tentatively, holding a cup of water out to me in offering. Trepidation flooded my chest, but I knew that I would thirst to death eventually.

I could not stay on the mat forever, and I did not want to cause Pana unnecessary worry.

I attempted to roll over onto my side, but did not succeed in getting very far over. I only managed to send a trail of fire through my tender muscles, the flames searing across my flesh with a sharp blistering pain. I cried out weakly, collapsing back onto my front, resigned and damn right ready to thirst to death. "Sorry," I whispered to her through the corner of my mouth. "I can't."

She stroked my hair with her fingers lightly, soothingly. "It's okay," Pana assured me softly. "I can help you." I could tell by the sad look in her eyes that she knew that I was in a tremendous amount of pain; I hoped that she did not witness the brutal beating that I had suffered beneath Fenris's reluctant hand.

The brink of a wooden, chipped cup was positioned awkwardly at my lips by Pana. I opened my mouth for her and she tipped the shallow cup until the liquid spilled into my waiting mouth; most of the lukewarm water spilled over the rim of my mouth and onto the mat, but I managed to swallow at least some of it before the cup drained completely. Pana set the cup aside and sat on the edge of my cot, her small hands running across my shoulders, avoiding the wounds.

"Thank you," I said gratefully, my thirst not sated but placated. Still, a bit of discomfort in my throat lifted.

Such a sweet girl.

I felt a tingling on the planes of my back and tasted the sharp tang of magic as it filled the air confined in the room; I hissed.

"Sorry," she gasped quickly, and the prickling sensation disappeared. "I just - I know I can -"

"Then do it," I gritted through my teeth, remembering how Pana healed my minor cut the morning she let me in on her secret. "Get it done with."

"Yes, ma'am," she whispered, eyes wide. I inhaled, holding my breath in preparation.

The touch of magic gentled immensely the second time around; a bare brush of magic across my wounded back, and I felt the sores sew together, felt the wounds that still trickled blood being laced by her healing magic. It was painful, but endurable.

Nothing that could not be handled by a few twitches and curses; I had been through worse and had been healed by Anders. Granted, the small elf was no seasoned healer like the soft-hearted apostate, but she could do well enough to ease the pain and prevent major scarring and infection. I even tried to feed her what little mana I could spare to aid her process; I had been careful with my usage of magic, ever since Pana had caught me drying the floors.

Apparently not careful enough.

"You are rather talented," I complemented when her work was done. She folded her hands on her lap and waited for the lingering scents and pulls of the magic to disperse in the air. "Quite the proficient healer, I would say."

She blushed beneath my praise, her tanned face pinking prettily. "Thank you," she said bashfully, pushing a strand of hair behind her pointed ear. "I tried my best."

I hummed, smiling into my pallet and shutting my eyes again. I sighed. "I'm so tired."

"Then rest, Mary," Pana suggested, touching my cheek with the tips of her fingers. "I promise not to let anything happen to you."

"What happened to Fenris while I was asleep?" I asked, my eyes still closed. "Did Fausta whip him?"

Silence. I cracked an eye open. "Pan?"

"He was taken away," she said, face pale. "I...he...she..."

"Spit it out," I encouraged tiredly. I hated all of the half-answers people had been giving me in regards to what he had suffered because of our tryst.

"We all heard his cries," Pana whispered, shuddering and hugging herself with skinny arms. My brows furrowed. His cries? What would bring forth such a response from Fenris, of all people? "It was..." She swallowed, frowning. "Harrowing."

I chewed on the insides of my cheeks, mulling over her words. "Thank you, Pana, for answering me." I closed my eyes again, growing increasingly more grateful that some of the pain had drained from my injuries. "You are a very good friend to me."

I could hear the proud smile in her voice. "Am I really?"

"You are," I said with my own smile. "I'm very lucky to have met you."

"I've never had a friend," Pana mused wistfully. "I'm glad that I can be a good one."

"I don't think you could ever be bad at anything, girly," I said tiredly, only half-coherent. "You have talent. You're sweet, kind, clever..."

Pana giggled at me; I was unsure of what exactly made her laugh, but I knew it was at least partially at my expense. "Go to sleep, Marian. I'll watch over you; I promise."

-S-

"Mages," Fenris's cold, acerbic voice spat by my head.

"Fenris?" I groaned, trying to roll over, the movement hindered by a lancing pain shooting up my spine. It was bearable; not incapacitating by any means. "When...when did you get here?"

"I've been here for quite some time," Fenris answered me, reaching over to graze the back of my hand with his fingertips. "How do you feel?"

"Peachy keen," I replied with a tight smile, my eyes still closed. "What about mages?" I asked sleepily.

"They have ruined our lives," he growled. I rolled my eyes, a rueful smile flashing through my cheeks.

"I have heard this before," I chuckled, remembering him picking on Merrill and Anders – but never myself..

"What?" he asked, sounding very confused. Then I realized what I had said, and where I was.

"Nothing," I told him, shaking my head and hoping he would forget it. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to be around you," Fenris answered plainly. "To see how you were recovering. It is surprising how fast you have healed in such a short amount of time."

"I suspect I have been well taken care of." By a mage, no less. I enjoyed that inside joke while it lasted.

"You have been given every courtesy we could provide," he assured me, having no idea how well I was taken care of.

I wondered where Pana had disappeared to.

I assumed that Fenris scared her off with terse looks and his signature sullen demeanor.

I took inventory, stretching my shoulders, feeling through my stiff muscles. The pain was growing less pronounced; a few days of rest and recovery had been exactly what I needed.

"Marian," his voice caressed my name hesitantly, unsure. I finally opened my eyes to peek at him, watching him stare at the door.

"Fenris?" I prompted after he did not say anything. He exhaled hard, tightening his fist.

"I'll try," Fenris said steadily. I stared at him a moment, confused.

Try?

He will try?

My eyes widened as realization flashed through my thoughts.

He is going to try to escape with me! The most glorious smile I had ever experienced lifted my face, carrying me across the threshold of happiness.

"I can promise nothing else," he warned, but when he saw my beaming face the sternness in his voice faded in favor of a small smile of his own. "But to try."

"That is all I could ask for," I said, flipping my hand over and grasping his fingers tightly.

Do you believe in love at first sight?