* A quick shout-out to Abess Aruba Skytalon and ProsePoetry for taking the time to review my story. Thanks guys! I always love real constructive criticism as well as words of encouragement. You both rock! Now, back to the story. . . . .

It was easier to live without love. Anger, bitterness, and cynicism were familiar emotions that Fenris knew how to deal with. Love. . .love, however, was bizarre to Fenris. It was so complex. Sometimes it sent him into a euphoric state; in moments of hope his heart would soar to great heights as he'd nurse the idea of reconciling with his beloved. This only happened when Fenris was drunk though. Very drunk.

Once the alcohol wore off, loneliness and despair would rear their ugly heads. Reality would punch Fenris in the stomach as a life of happiness alongside Hawke disappeared before his aching eyes. Love (a cruel mistress) often offered nothing more for the elf but extreme agony. Maker, how he wished he could will it away! If he could rip out his own heart he would in an instant. This pain he felt from love was cruel (crueler than any torment Danarius or Hadriana had ever placed on him).

It amused him to think that he had ever ached for such a curse. When still Danarius's dog, Fenris had yearned for love to engulf him. It looked beautiful, exotic, and divine to the abused elf. He assumed that such an intense feeling for someone else and them for you could help a man endure anything even slavery.

How he would envy those he saw in the throes of love. Be it magister or slave, whenever he crossed paths with lovers his heart would tighten at the way they would look at each other or embrace. It was a type of happiness Fenris supposed he'd never get to experience then he broke away from his master and she happened.

Hawke had invaded the chambers of his heart with her warm smile, kind nature, and grace. She remained ever humble and optimistic while carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was extraordinary. A true woman of beauty, wit, and strength if there ever was one.

This mage (of all things) embodied all of man's better qualities. She was like something out of the fade itself. No, not the fade but paradise. Hawke was an angel; a handmaiden for the Maker himself who for some inexplicable reason loved him. Such knowledge broke Fenris in two, for he ruined that love by walking away from her.

Those damn memories had flooded his vision. It caused his body to become afflicted with unimaginable pain; the silver lyrium veins pulsed and burned his flesh like bitter acid. He had lost control of himself. It horrified him. To not be aware of anything but such suffering while your body did Maker knew what shook Fenris to his very core. He justified leaving her by believing he had done it for her own good. Now it seemed he had only done it for his own good.

When feeling especially brooding Fenris pondered his own manhood. Truly, a man worthy of such a woman wouldn't have turned his back on her? He would have stayed; he would have faced his demons with his lady fair by his side. If he bled, it would be in front of her. Unflinchingly such a man would bare his past and all of his secrets for his love to see. He'd make her witness his redemption and such a woman (Hawke) would act as his guiding light. Their love would only grow wouldn't it?

Instead he fled. Fenris had turned his back on ever being her heroic admired one. He had chosen the easy route and decided to face his demons alone, for that was simpler than involving another. Convincing himself he had left to protect her from any unnecessary pain that his memories might cause her was daft. He knew that months later. Hell, Isabela had even known that; basically called him out on it during her last visit. Fenris ever the lone wolf ever the warrior was a coward. He was still nothing but a lowly slave.

A filthy slave, he would mutter. Unworthy of any real affection, let alone affection from someone as superior as Hawke. He wondered if she had realized this herself? Probably. That is why no one visits and no messages are relayed. She knows I'm worthless to her. . . .and, like clockwork, Fenris would turn to his ale or wine for comfort. After plunging himself deeper into his despondency, there seemed to be no cure for it other than intoxication. Better to be smashed from booze than to feel the quick sting and swift retribution of love.

Dulled senses softened the blow, at least until morning when, again, sunshine would bring about reality and reality would bring about a lesser existence, one without her. Sure, the love for her remained, but with it brought sadness at the loss of her, and that sadness was all Fenris would ever know. It was all a slave like him deserved; it was all a coward like him should ever know. He was nothing after all, just a dirty filthy elf living in an abandoned mansion. A lone wolf destined to move through life loveless and alone, without the companionship of his sweet lady hawke for company. Without her. Always without her. . . .