Author's Note: So, as some of you may have already predicted, there's a couple of darker chapters ahead - because when things start going well, they also start going terribly wrong. :P I'm so grateful for all the reviews and support you guys! You really inspire me to keep going.

Disclaimer: Fenris, Hawke and all other characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

Wolf Unchained, Chapter 11

The red wine swerved slowly in the glass as Fenris moved it in his hand. One green eye watched it thoughtfully while the other was obscured by wave of white hair that fell across his face. He tilted the glass slightly to one side, observing how the liquid changed colour with the added hue of flames, brightening to the colour of blood. He finally ended his fascination with the wine by raising the glass to his lips and drinking it down in one fell swoop. He leaned back and closed his eyes, enjoying the rush of warmth that coursed through his body, forgetting himself in the gentle daze of inebriation. His armour lay on the floor next to him, the polished surface gleaming in the light. His bare chest rose and fell slowly, the fire exposing his flesh down to his waist, his legs covered with a pair of black trousers he had found somewhere in the mansion. The lack of armour exposed his scars, which were littered across his body in sharp gashes that would never fully disappear. On nights like this, the old pains ached with particular fierceness, reminding him that he would carry them for life. But even the copious wine that he had drunk tonight did nothing to scatter the demons of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to banish them. He brought the bottle to his lips again.

Once the survivors of the Deep Roads expedition had returned to the City of Chains, things changed quickly. The dwarf had swiftly gathered his contacts and started selling the treasure they had found in the thaig, giving a large portion of the profits to Hawke. The mage had arrived home without her sibling and she had been forced to endure Leandra's grief over the loss of yet another child. Although Hawke's mother denied blaming the mage for Carver's death, the silent accusation had been there on her face for everyone to see. Hawke shouldered the weight of the blame as Fenris had expected her to – silently, without complaint. He watched as she accepted her part in the deaths of her two siblings, dealing with the consequences of her actions with strength that most men lacked. Yet something seemed to have broken inside her when she faced her mother's accusing gaze, leaving the mage hollow. His awkward words of comfort had done nothing to erase the pain in her eyes and only silence had followed them. Distance had rapidly grown between him and Hawke, quickly turning into a gulf that neither of them were able to cross. It had been yet another inevitable repercussion in the aftermath of Carver's death.

The glass Fenris was holding in his hands suddenly snapped, broken shards cutting into his flesh and falling to the carpeted floor. He watched this happen absent-mindedly, his eyes following the small streams of blood that started running down his palm with dull fascination.

Weeks and months had passed while doubt and anger continued to sow their seeds into his mind and heart, growing with each passing day as he remained alone in his mansion. Dark thoughts circled through his head like carrion crows, shouting out to him the very things he didn't wish to hear. That he had been weak to show such strong emotion to someone he knew so little about, an apostate no less. That he had been foolish to almost give in to his desires when Hawke had most likely only needed the comfort of a body to drive off her own despair. That was the thought that cut the most, the idea that angered him the most – that Hawke had been using him to comfort herself, the way Danarius and his fellow magisters had used him so many times for their own selfish needs. He dared not confront the mage about it, afraid of hearing the inevitable denial. Fear and despair tugged at his heart until he could no longer breathe, and so he had turned to drink as his salvation and embraced the shallow mercy it offered.

The jobs that now came up were few and far inbetween. Hawke was busy restoring the mansion her family used to own in Hightown, before her uncle had gambled it away. She had bought it back with the money she had earned from the expedition, thus keeping another promise she had made to Carver – to look after their mother. Her friends observed as she threw herself into the restoration of the mansion, determined to be the daughter she had never been. That left little time for mercenary missions and gambling at the Hanged Man. Fenris had not spoken to her for months, and even during those rare occasions when they happened to meet somewhere, the conversations always seemed intentionally brief and hurried. These meetings left him angered and distraught, until he finally began accepting that his sudden outburst of emotions in the Deep Roads had been an utter mistake.

He started making weekly trips to the Hanged Man on his own, forcing himself to interact with Hawke's friends to avoid the voices of his own inner demons. Eventually he found himself seeking solace in their company and often drinking himself to a stupor by the end of the night. He learned to play Diamondback with Varric's helpful assistance and his participation in the weekly games soon became a routine. He often found himself losing to Isabela's clever tricks, but he took comfort in knowing that the petite elf who called herself Merrill usually faired a lot worse. He avoided the blood mage as a plague as soon as he realised what she was, but he learned to appreciate the company of Hawke's other friends as months continued to roll by. Aveline often visited the bar when she could, and Fenris grew to respect the guard-captain who never flinched from danger and always put her men first. He could not bring himself to call these people friends, and yet they almost seemed to fill a strange void that was left in his life with Hawke's absence. His thoughts continued to drift to Danarius, though the prospect of getting his revenge grew dimmer with every day. Several years had now gone by since Fenris had arrived to Kirkwall with his magister's hounds at his heels, yet of the man himself there was still no sign. It only served as another addition to the doubts that weighed on his mind.

Fenris got up and fetched another glass from the table, carelessly crunching the broken glass beneath his bare feet. It would hurt tomorrow, but tonight he did not care. He refilled the glass and emptied it again in an instant, though now he could feel much less of the warmth that had filled his body earlier. Still, he found it helpful to drown his thoughts in wine on nights like these, when thoughts of Hawke and his failed revenge haunted his mind like unbidden ghosts. It only seemed to dull his mind, however, and not the senses he had so finely honed over the years. When he saw the movement of a shadowy figure out of the corner of his eye, his reaction was swift. The fierce lyrium glow of his cursed brands filled him with power as he roared and rushed forth, gripping the intruder by the neck. He pushed them against a wall and pinned them there while they struggled in his grasp.

"Breaking into someone's house is not a very nice thing to do," he growled as he peered into the hooded face of the intruder. "Any last words before I break your neck, stranger?" He said, but the words almost died on his lips and his face grew pale as he saw the glimmer of familiar bluegray eyes staring back at him.

"Fenris.. It's me.." Hawke managed to say before her throat was completely cut-off by Fenris' hard grip. He blinked and released her in an instant, making her body tumble to the floor.

"Hawke?" He said incredulously, staring down at her as she coughed and spit, bringing a hand up to her neck where his fingers had held her. "What are you doing here?"

"Thanks for the welcome," she said hoarsely as she finally managed to stand up and push the hood of her cloak backwards. "If I had known what kindness you showed to your guests these days I would have sent this by courier," she shoved a book in his hands before walking over to the table where she had spotted Fenris' diminishing wine collection. She picked up a bottle and frowned as she shook it, feeling it was empty. She threw it over her shoulder. Fenris ducked as it flew right at him but missed, hitting the wall behind him.

"I... wasn't expecting you, that's all," he said as he looked down at the book she had given him, frowning. "We haven't spoken in.."

"Months," Hawke finished his sentence and tried another bottle. This one seemed more promising, so she popped its cork and brought it to her mouth, tasting the wine on her tongue. She swallowed and nodded approvingly. "Good vintage."

"I imagine Danarius enjoyed serving fine wine to his guests," Fenris said wearily as he watched her. He set the book on the mantelpiece behind him, hoping that she would not mention it. He doubted that he could stand the humiliation. "I found his wine collection not long after I moved in," he added and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers, becoming painfully aware of the fact that he was not wearing his armour.

Hawke's gaze took in the surroundings, noticing the broken glass on the floor and the large amount of empty bottles scattered across the room. "I see you've been putting it to good use," she observed, one eyebrow raised as she turned her head to look at him. "Drowning your sorrows, perhaps?"

"My sorrows?" Fenris repeated dubiously, his green eyes flashing as he felt the wine course through his system. Was she mocking him? "What sorrows could I possibly have, Hawke?" He barked out a laugh and sat back down in his armchair, stretching out his long legs in front of him. "I haven't got a care in the world. I'm simply celebrating my success and good fortune. Why would I be upset?"

"Danarius," she said frankly as she continued to look at him, her gaze unreadable. She walked over to the fireplace with the bottle of wine still in her hands. "Are you still waiting for him to reclaim the mansion? It's been some time now, hasn't it?" She moved down to sit in the chair opposite him without waiting for an invitation.

The forced smile faded from his lips. "Ah," he said after a moment's pause. "Yes, it has."

She wordlessly handed over the bottle of wine and he accepted it without hesitation, taking a large swig out of it before handing it back to her.

"Do you think he might have given up on you?" Hawke asked before taking another gulp of wine. Her eyes watched him carefully.

Fenris shrugged, squirming at the uncomfortable gaze. He no longer enjoyed these conversations, not when they seemed to lead to so many dark places. "I don't know," he replied truthfully as he gazed into the fire. "It's been almost three years since I came to Kirkwall and there's been no sign of him. Perhaps it is possible that Danarius no longer wishes to reclaim me," he said, unbelieving of his own words. The silence between them lingered for a moment longer. The flames were growing weak. He leaned forward and threw another table leg into the fire, making it crackle with satisfaction. His systematic destruction of Danarius' belongings had now reached the second floor of the house. "What are you doing here, Hawke?" He asked again, the words echoing strangely in his head.

She leaned back in the chair and looked down at the bottle of wine, turning it slowly in her hands as she drew a breath. "I came.. to check up on you," she started and glanced at him, continuing with some hesitation. "And to tell you that I've missed you, Fenris."

Anger rose inside him like a wave at her words, her presumption astounding him. Did she assume that he was going to leap at her words with joy, like a pathetic dog at the sight of a meaty bone? Was there no end to the tricks this apostate was willing to play on him simply to keep him under her control? He blinked and looked away to hide his emotions, staring into the fireplace as he searched his mind for something to say. "I see," he said after some time. "And what exactly do you want me to do about that, Hawke?"

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes filling with apprehension. "I don't know," she replied, and then laughed. It was a bitter sound. "I realise that I've been avoiding you, along with everyone else. Hell, I've even been avoiding myself, ever since..," she trailed off, her smile darkening for a moment. "But nevermind about that," she said and laughed again. The falseness of the sound rang painfully in his ears. "As you so profoundly said to me once, I don't need your pity – although I'm sure you have none to give me. But I realise that I've been an arse to you, and I'm here to apologize for it. See, I've even brought you a peace offering, but you haven't looked at it yet. Not much of a reader, I take it?"

He stood up from the chair and walked over to the opposite side of the room before she could see the anger and frustration that contorted the features of his face. He placed his hands and forehead against the cool stone walls for only a moment, composing himself before he had to turn around and face her again. He could not afford to show more weakness. Not to this woman who seemed to take advantage of it so easily.

"I'm sure your gift will make a splendid addition to Danarius' library," he said as he turned to look at her, his face calm and composed while his thoughts raced furiously in his head. "I appreciate the gesture Hawke, but I'm afraid I don't have time to look at it," he said in what he hoped was a casual voice. He moved his hands back into his pockets. "It's Wednesday you see, and Varric's hosting a game of Diamondback at the Hanged Man. I already owe the dwarf five sovereigns, and if I don't win it back tonight he'll probably hire lackeys to break into the mansion and burn it to the ground," he said with a humourless laugh. "You know how it is."

Hawke looked down at the bottle in her hands, her gaze lingering there for an impossibly long moment as Fenris' impatience continued to grow. "I understand," she said quietly as she got up, returning the wine to the table. She pulled the hood back over her head, obscuring her red hair. The elf suddenly felt a pang of regret as he remembered how it felt to weave her locks around his fingers, yet he shut the treacherous thoughts out of his mind with all the determination he possessed. This weakness was killing him, and he could no longer afford it.

She walked past him before stopping with a hesitant step."There's something I might require your help with for in a couple of days," she said, her voice calm. "It's a matter of great importance for the Qunari and their Arishok. I hope I can still count on your service?"

"Of course," he replied stiffly, anxiously waiting for her to leave his sight. What a wonderful way for her to remind him that his debt still needed to be repaid.

She opened her mouth as if to add something further, but the words got lost in her throat. "Enjoy your game Fenris," she managed to say before heading for the exit with great haste. He listened to the echo of her footsteps in the empty hallway before the door closed behind her.

He sighed and ruffled his hair, slowly feeling the tension leave his body. He moved over to the fireplace and picked up the book once more, staring at its cover. He traced the title with his fingertips, wondering what it meant and knowing that he will never understand it, no matter how hard he tried. He glanced down at the fireplace and considered throwing it into the flames to rid himself of Hawke's influence, but could not bring himself to do it. He growled and threw it carelessly on the mantelpiece next to other useless items he had gathered over the years. He collapsed into the armchair once again and sighed. His fingers grasped the neck of another bottle of wine and he put it to his lips with unseeing eyes. The drink tasted like poison in his mouth. He flung the bottle against the wall, inches away from where Hawke's throw had hit it, his face twisted in grim determination. This was another weakness he could no longer afford.

On the approach to the Wounded Coast

He could hear the soothing approach of the waves as they lapped against the coast. The salty sea breeze ruffled his hair and the clear, bright light of dawn glittered in the sand, making it look as though the ground was scattered with diamonds. Fenris breathed in the scent of the sea and took in the view. His strange journey had taken him across the Nocen Sea and the depths of the Amaranthine ocean, making him travel all the way from the northern coast to the south. How much further would he have to go before he found the peace of mind he was looking for?

"Lovely morning to go hunting for some Qunari, isn't it?" Varric grinned and stifled a yawn as he looked out across the landscape. This was the first time Hawke had gathered her team of mercenaries in months.

"Speak for yourself, dwarf," Isabela grunted behind him as she caught up with them at the top of the dune, squinting as the bright sunshine was caught in her eyes. "My head feels like someone's been using it for target practice, and Andraste's bollocks, can't someone put out that light?"

"Awww Rivaini, not much of a morning person? What a surprise," Varric rolled his eyes while giving the pirate a gentle pat on the back. "Don't worry sweetheart, I'm sure that robbing some corpses will cheer you up soon enough."

"First we need to find those corpses," Hawke called out behind them as she quickly climbed up the dune, using her staff for balance. Somewhere behind her they could hear the excited barks of her mabari hound, Argo, who was enthusiastically racing through the sands in the pursuit of a group of seagulls. "Although I'd personally prefer it if we could find the Qunari patrol alive and unharmed, but that would probably require a small miracle," she said with a small smile. The fresh morning walk had coloured her cheeks, putting life back into her eyes. "Come on people. The sooner we find them, the sooner we can go back to the Hanged Man and help Isabela nurse her hangover."

"Not before we get their stuff," the pirate said firmly and moved forward to take the lead in order to scout for possible traps ahead. Fenris glanced at Isabela's back as they began moving toward the coast. It was not the first time the pirate had showed an extraordinary interest in dealings with the Qunari, although she always seemed to find a perfectly reasonable excuse to avoid attending their meetings with the Arishok. The elf wondered briefly this, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted as Isabela drew to a halt and held up her right hand in a signal of warning. The rest of the party stopped immediately. She was hunched down to the ground, her eyes darting from left to right as she listened for something. Daggers, Isabela's weapons of choice, were already poised and alert in her hands, her entire body tensed, ready to strike.

Hawke moved forward quietly, her back lowered to avoid detection. She approached Isabela and squatted next to her. "Raiders?" She asked and glanced around. They were currently hidden behind a large rising dune, yet they had been climbing up a slope and the higher ground above them was an ideal place for an ambush.

"Not sure," Isabela said through her teeth. "Couldn't be Qunari though."

"Why not?" Hawke raised an eyebrow.

"Because then our heads would already be rolling down the hill," the pirate whispered with a grin. Marian noted the excitement that was written across her face. Isabela thrived on the heat of the battle.

"How many?" The mage enquired while looking over her shoulder. Fenris and Varric were hunched down to the ground further down the slope, looking up at the women as they discussed the situation. The swift movement of a small shape suddenly caught her eye.

"Twenty, maybe thirty," Isabela replied, thoughtfully biting her lip as she looked ahead. "They're probably waiting for us to walk straight into their trap. I suggest we create a diversion to-"

"Argo, no!" Hawke cried out suddenly as the hound ran up the slope and vanished from their view, barking excitedly as he pawed at an unlucky seagull that tried to evade capture. The surprised shouts and curses of men in the higher ground above them reached their ears. Isabela and Hawke looked at each other.

"That'll work," the pirate said, grinning as she scrambled up the slope after the hound and rushed into battle with a laugh. Marian moved to the top of the slope with Fenris and Varric close behind her, momentarily overwhelmed by the large group of men that had been waiting for them. The clearing was covered in black smoke and men were coughing and trying to escape the toxic fumes while Isabela's amused laughter taunted them into battle. Argo had suddenly forgotten about the seagulls, his sharp teeth sinking into the arm of an opponent while he shook the man about like a toy and dislocated his shoulder with a loud snap. Even amidst the confusion of the sudden battle, Hawke noticed that there was something strange about the appearance of these men. They didn't look like raiders to her, instead they reminded her of..

"Hunters," Fenris growled next to her as he looked at the group, his eyes narrowing. A bright blue glow began emanating from his skin as his lyrium markings gave power to his rage. He rushed quickly into the group with a shrill battle cry, swinging the sword around him as bodies and limbs started flying in every direction, covering the clearing in spatters of blood. Someone in the crowd cried out "It's the slave! Get him!", to which Fenris responded with a roar. The swing of his sword cut the slaver's head clean from his shoulders. "I am not a slave," she heard him scream at the body as it fell to its knees, blood gushing from its neck like a fountain, but then the battle was upon her as well, giving her no more time to look. Hawke turned the staff dexterously in her hands and cried out as someone lunged for her with a knife. The blow of her staff connected sharply with the man's head, sending out a jolt of electricity trough his body as magic sparked from her weapon.

"A mage! Kill her!" Someone yelled and grabbed her from behind, knocking the staff out of her grasp and cutting off her air supply. She could feel them converging on her with a deadly swiftness and she ceased to struggle and closed her eyes in order to gather momentum. The power inside her grew rapidly and she rode on its wave as she opened her eyes once more, grinning madly at the slavers. "Not before I kill you first," she shouted as she sent out a blast-wave of magic around her, knocking the slavers backward several feet with surprised grunts. She gave them no time to recover as she grabbed her staff and channelled a fireball straight into their midst, setting the men aflame in an instant. Cries of agony mixed with urgent shouts in the air as the battle raged on. Marian glanced up at the sky and took a few steps back just in time to miss a dense rain of arrows that covered the sky. She could hear Varric's compliments to Bianca's excellence somewhere behind her. The sharp tips of his arrows seemed to find every weakness in the enemy armour, piercing their skin through their shoulder-guards and joints. Isabela's daggers took care of what Varric's arrows couldn't finish. The rogue pirate deftly avoided the incoming attacks, dodging and moving around her opponents as her daggers found their mark with lightning-fast accuracy. Hawke raised her hands to the sky as she focused her magic once more, the heavy rain of fire obliterating those who tried to approach her where she stood.

In the silence that followed the battle, Hawke looked down at the sea of dead slavers before her. The fight seemed to have finished as quickly as it had begun. Argo dragged several bodies into a pile and stretched out on the ground with all the gracefulness he could muster. He looked up at Hawke while he gnawed lazily on a leg with utter satisfaction, waggling his tail as he panted away. Varric leaned down and began retrieving his fallen arrows while gently stroking Bianca and murmuring soft words of affection the mage couldn't hear. Isabela was covered in blood from tip to toe, though she wasted no time on such trivial things as cleaning up. Hawke watched her as she kneeled down and started looting the bodies, looking for valuables while humming quietly to herself. The pirate retrieved a small golden chain out of a dead man's pocket and held it up to the sunlight, watching the gold glisten in her hands. A satisfied smile spread across her lips.

The mage's eyes continued to scan the area until they found what they were looking for. She saw Fenris leaning down over the body of man who appeared to still be alive. The elf's hands gripped his hair as he asked him something and then banged the man's head forcefully against the ground. Hawke started running.

"Where is he?" Fenris snarled furiously as he looked down at the slaver, his eyes full of hatred. He pushed his head forcefully down to the ground once more and the man grunted at the impact.

"Oh Maker, please don't kill me," the slaver sobbed. "I don't know where he is, I swear I don't know," he moaned as Fenris pulled at his hair, detaching some strands from his scalp. "Hadriana brought us!" He gasped, the words spilling out of his mouth. "She's at the holding caves, north of the city. I will show you the way, please, just don't kill me and I swear I will bring you to her," he pleaded, his fingers digging into the ground beneath him, his eyes shut tight.

"No need." Fenris' lips twisted into a cold grin that showed no mercy. "I know the place you speak of," he said before wrapping his hands around the slaver's neck and snapping it like a twig. He looked down at the man's body with disgust, seeing only one of Danarius' dogs that had been sent after him. "You chose the wrong master," he said with a sneer. Only then did he look up to see Hawke standing a few feet away, watching him. He looked away as he leaned over and picked up his sword, sheathing it back in its scabbard before he stood up.

"Hadriana," he said, his voice full of loathing as he spoke the name. He clenched his hands into fists. "One of my master's apprentices, and certainly the most ambitious one. I remember her well," his voice cracked as he looked off into the distance. "I was a fool to think they would ever let me be," he said with his green eyes blazing, barely noticing that he was speaking out loud. For the first time in many months Fenris felt his hatred towards Danarius and all his accomplices truly envelop him, filling him with a purpose he thought he had lost. His revenge could still be close at hand. "If she is here, it is at Danarius' bidding," he continued his thread of thought, beginning to pace back and forth. "This could be the chance I've been waiting for, the opportunity to strike a blow he will not soon forget." He stopped and took a deep breath. Every time he asked for her help, his burden of debt increased, chaining him to this woman who frustrated and angered him by getting under his skin. Yet he knew he had no choice. He swallowed his pride and broke the promise he had made to himself all those years ago. "We must go now Hawke, before she has a chance to escape," he said hesitantly, looking at the mage.

Thankfully, she nodded her agreement quickly. "The Qunari and their missing patrol will simply have to wait a bit longer. Lead the way, Fenris," she said grimly as she tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear and gripped her staff. "She will pay for what she had done to you."

"Oh well, I suppose I can always stand to nurse my hangover with some more treasure," Isabela shrugged as she approached them, shamelessly having eavesdropped in on their conversation. "Anything to keep our pointy-eared friend out of trouble, right?" She grinned as she wiped some blood off her face with her forearm.

"Right," Varric agreed as he holstered Bianca on his back and joined them. "Let's hope those Tevinters keep their valuables close at hand. Come on Elf, let's get going while the day is still young and there is more plundering to do," the dwarf drawled as he motioned for him to start moving.

But Fenris wasn't fooled by their light-hearted talk. His gaze swept over the faces of Hawke's companions when he suddenly realised that they weren't helping him for profit, despite Isabela's humorous claims. Somewhere along the lines his relationship with these people had changed. They were taking on the dangerous task of attacking a Tevinter magister because they cared for him and did not wish to see him harmed. The thought seemed preposterous and Fenris refused to believe it, and yet.. Why else would they put themselves in so much danger? He frowned as he glanced at Hawke. She was leaning down to stroke her hound's back, oblivious of his stare.

"The caves are this way," he finally said as he pointed to the rising slopes on their left, the dunes transforming to steep hills in the distance. He took point as they began making their way to Hadriana's hideout. His heart beat in his chest like the sound of war drums, blocking out everything except for the call of revenge that made his blood boil.