Likely Alliance
Chapter 11: For Now
She didn't have anything to pack, but when Fenris came upon Adahlen, clad all in black like she had been on the night he had first encountered her, like she had been when she drove her daggers into Valerian's chest, Fenris knew she was leaving. He regretted immediately having left the mansion for even an instant to call on Hawke who had requested his presence for a quick and dirty mission on the Wounded Coast. He couldn't help but think that Adahlen had begun to pull herself together the moment he had left, but then, Fenris had been gone for hours. Was she waiting for him to come home? To what, to say goodbye?
"Where are you going?" He tried not to sound too hostile toward her, though his heart was pounding; for what reason, he couldn't say.
She looked up from her hip where she was slipping a stiletto into its sheath, and said, "With you," adding hesitantly, "I hope."
He shook his head, anxiety beginning to melt away, "I'm back now. Hawke's finished. Nothing else lined up for tonight," and he went to his chair, letting his body fall tired into the familiar seat. He put his elbows on the mahogany table and folded his arms, looking up at Adahlen through a lock of silver hair. She pursed her lips and rolled them out like a flag furling in the wind, then pressed them into an impatient frown as she pulled her curly hair back in her hands. The fireplace was dark and the shadows in the room both hid and enhanced the black strokes on her face. With the way they exaggerated her every expression, Adahlen was robbed of her ability to bluff, and he read her racing thoughts from across the room.
"What is it?" he pressed, and Adahlen let go of her hair, letting her arms fall limp at her sides. Her black mask was tucked into her belt and she tugged at it nervously, averting her green eyes from his hazel ones.
"Fenris," she groaned. She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, crunching up her face as though afflicted by some deep, internal stress. He tipped his head, trying once again to meet her gaze. "I can't - I can't stay here," she sputtered.
"I'm sure Hawke has somewhere -"
"No," Adahlen cut him off. "I can't stay in Kirkwall."
"Why not?" he asked, the beating of his heart picking up ever more.
"Why not?" she repeated. "Do you even have to ask?" She folded her hands imploringly. "Valerian is gone, and two more magisters with him. But that's only three out of - of how many, Fenris? Hundreds? More? Tevinter is a big place, a big place full of corruption, and if there's one thing of which you've been able to convince me - you and your Hawke - it's that these people can be taken down. I once contented myself freeing slaves, freeing people like us, but you've shown me that that's not enough. These magisters, they are truly evil, and even if all the slaves in the Imperium were freed, the magisters would still be out there. They don't deserve to live. They're why you hate mages, hate magic itself, and they're why countless others are imprisoned, are pressed into servitude are, are, are..." her voice broke as her hands separated and became independent fists, "...are scarred." She sucked in a deep breath, the air cog-wheeling into her lungs in quick, jerky gasps. "I have to do something Fenris, I can't just stay here in Kirkwall and deal with what the magisters allow to wash up on shore. There's no other way. I've spent the last week searching myself for a reason not to go back there and finish what they started and the only thing I can come up with is," she paused again, longer this time, but her breathing was more calm, more controlled, "is you." Adahlen's jaw remained slack, trembling for the briefest moment before she swallowed hard and said again, "So I hope that you'll be coming with me. I hope that I'll be going... with you."
Fenris parted his lips but his mind made no words to pass between them. He stood from the table, collecting himself, heavy eyelids fluttering as though trying to kick his brain into action. "Adahlen," he started slowly. "I can't," and he heard himself saying the words before he realised he was speaking. "Hawke... does good work. Mostly. I suppose she doesn't need me, but she once asked for my aid and I agreed to aid her. Now I find myself more deeply in her debt than I ever thought I might allow myself to be, and I'm comfortable. Perhaps more comfortable than is right. Until, however, she no longer has want of my skills, I find myself at an impasse." He walked around the table, and looked at Adahlen, from her feet to her forehead. "Perhaps Hawke does not need me. But as Tevinter could use you, Kirkwall could use Hawke. And Hawke... can still use me." Fenris twisted his mouth into a sorrowful smile, sure of his choice even as he wished he wasn't. He reached out a hand and pushed Adahlen's dark ringlets out of her eyes. "I... am sorry."
Adahlen returned the same sad smile and pressed the palm of her hand against the back of Fenris', his own palm cupping her cheek, the dark orichalcum scars rough even against his calloused skin. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I only hope that, should Hawke ever see fit to wipe your slate clean, you might find that Tevinter could use you as well. I know I could." She wove her fingers into the spaces between his but kept his hand against her face, turning only to press her lips against his palm. He closed his eyes, returning her gesture as his moved his mouth to rest against her forehead, muttering against her skin, "It's not Hawke who will do the cleaning," and he brought his free hand to the back of her head, pushing a firm kiss to her brow, "but I will find you, when I can, and the magisters will tremble."
Adahlen let out a small sigh of a laugh, of relief, and closed the final distance between herself and Fenris. "You will find me. And so will they." She stayed still in his grasp as long as she could bear, his hand in her hair, his breath on her forehead. She closed her eyes and allowed herself one last long, quiet breath in.
"Goodbye, Fenris," was the sound her exhale made.
"For now," he answered, and found the strength to pull his mouth, his hand, away from her skin.
Adahlen shivered, suddenly cold in the empty, dark mansion and stepped back from him, letting her eyes sweep the room one last time, coming to rest on the lyrium-scarred elf, before she forced herself to turn away. Her bare feet patted the stone floor quietly, and Fenris watched her heels as they took her to the door.
When he was alone in the blue gloaming light, he retraced her footsteps, stopping as he reached out to press the tips of his index and middle fingers against the cool, bronze door handle.
Fenris left it unlocked.
THE END
Note: Thanks for sticking with me to the bitter end. Please share your thoughts. All are welcome. New new news in the profile. Check it out if you want to know what's next.
5/28/15: Fenris fans, I've just started a sequel to another DA:II fic of mine, "Broken Hallelujah." It's titled "Vigilant" and Fenris has a bigger part in it than he had had in BH (though if you haven't checked that one out, you may enjoy it as well).
