Chapter Eleven
-"Let's start with your name, I think that would be best."
Fenris sat at a table in a dusty, rundown bedroom. The dim afternoon light filtering through the holes in the ceiling cast shadows over everything. He would probably have to light he fire if he was planning on practicing. His gaze turned to a figure sitting in the chair next to him and had just spoken. Shadows hid the person's face from him, but that was okay. He would know that voice anywhere. It was familiar and warm.
"Go ahead, Fenris. Practice what you can before the light fades."
Fenris looked down at the parchment in front of him. What am I doing again, he thought groggily. What does this voice want me to do? Suddenly, he wasn't so sure who sat beside him. The face and name that had been so vivid in his mind moments ago faded into oblivion. He stared more intently at the paper upon the table. There was a word scrolled perfectly across the top and there were several sloppy attempts at replicating it in rows beneath. Disappointment fluttered through Fenris as he remembered that he couldn't read the word. The person would be let down if he didn't figure out this word.
But why would they be? I have never been able to understand written words...
The room began to fade around the edges until Fenris could no longer make out any shapes around him. He sat in total darkness, and panic began to overwhelm him. They are here somewhere, he thought frantically, I must find them!
Fenris began to run through the darkness searching for anything out of place. He didn't really understand why he had to find this mysterious person so badly, but the need controlled him with a fearsome power. Fenris could feel that his goal was so near, but the pitch black abyss stretched endlessly around him.
"Fenris!'
The voice! It was the person! A small pinprick of light appeared far ahead of him and Fenris rushed toward it. As it grew brighter, images began to flash across his vision. A slum courtyard with a painted tree. A group of men chasing him, shouting in Tevene. A rundown estate in the moonlight. Shades and a battle. A woman's cries as spells flashed past him.
Images passed faster and faster as he picked up his pace. Empty bottles of wine on a table. A magister woman lying on the ground amidst a pool of blood. A gentle hand on his shoulder. Another estate. A bed. A glimpse of skin.-
Hawke frantically searched for something to aid Fenris. Upon seeing the book's cover, he had fainted and begun flailing on the bedroom floor. Over and over, his lyrium markings flared and faded, each time his face became a mask of immense pain. Once Hawke gathered her senses, she grabbed a nearby cushion and placed it under his head and called for help. After a few moments, Anders rushed into the room and immediately knelt next to the elf man. Careful not to touch any of his bare skin, Anders place his hands above Fenris' head as they began to glow with his healing light. Eventually, the flailing subsided; however, the lyrium flashes became more and more frequent over time.
"Help me put him on the bed, Anders."
Between the two of them, they gently placed Fenris' still glowing body on the blanket. At this point, the light from his skin had become a steady pulse and his face was covered in a sheen of sweat.
"There is nothing more I can do for him, Marion. Whatever you did to try and stir his memories is pushing against the spell Danarius cast on him. Right now, his mind is resisting the magic and attempting to remember. I do not know what will come of this as the spell was likely tied to him through is markings. That would explain the light as each memory surfaces. It's all a waiting game at this point. Either he is strong enough, or he is not."
"Leave me, Anders."
Hawke's voice was clipped as she stopped his long-winded explanation. She did not want to harm Fenris, her intentions had been good. Guilt brought her to her knees next to the bed and she vaguely heard the door shut as Anders followed her instruction. She crossed her arms on the bed next to Fenris' glowing one and rested her forehead against her arm. -If this is a waiting game, then I will wait. I moved too fast and now Fenris is the one that has to suffer for it.-
The night seemed to last forever as Hawke waited for some sign that Fenris was recovering. She dozed fitfully at her place by his side, but was each time awoken by a groan or harsh spasm from atop the bed. Soon, it was well into the very early hours of morning, still several hours from sunrise.
"Hawke..."
Jerking up immediately at the sound of his gravelly voice, Hawke stood and looked down at Fenris' face. Her hope faded as quickly as it had come. His eyes were still shut and his brow tensed in pain. But he had called to her from whatever nightmare his was stuck in. She eased herself onto the edge of the bed and gathered his armored hand into her lap. Fenris had once told her that her touch didn't harm him like everyone else's did. He was merely not used to the contact so it surprised him when they touched. Gently, Hawke began unstrapping the gauntlet from around his wrist and fingers. Soon it lay discarded on the floor and her fingertips ran over the much-dimmed markings on his skin.
To her surprise, the remaining glow from the lyrium faded under her touch. Like water flowing down a channel, the fading travelled up his arm and across his body until all of the markings rested in their normal white state. Finally, Fenris' face relaxed and his head sunk deeper into the pillow. A relieved sigh passed through Hawke's lips and, as the heavy worry fell from her shoulders, she collapsed against his still-plated chest. Quiet sobs escaped from her lips and tears slid down the creases of the breastplate.
"Please be okay, Fenris. I am so sorry."
There was a touch on the back of her head. Fingers threaded their way into her hair. The breathing beneath her changed from the steady rhythm of sleep.
"Do not shed anymore tears for me."
Hawke lifted her head and looked up into Fenris' face as his hand continued to caress her hair. His eyes, though bloodshot and sunken, looked back at her with recognition. As she stared, his lips turned up into his small smile.
"You.. You remember..? Is that really you, Fenris? Please assure me this is not a dream. I cannot bear it."
The fingers tightened in her hair slightly, though not enough to hurt. Fenris took his other hand and began pushing himself up into a sitting position. Before Hawke could protest that he should rest, he pulled her up into his lap and pressed her face against his shoulder. As his arms tightened around her back, Hawke allowed the sobs to escape again.
"Yes, Marion. It is me."
