He was free, now. After a fashion.
Hawke stood next to the body, close enough to nudge his leg, just in case he might be sleeping. Ketojan wasn't sleeping.
The battle was long over, the other bodies had long since been piled up and set aflame, and still Hawke stood, staring at her new found, long lost friend and second greatest failure. She kept promising to protect people. She kept getting them killed. Bethany, Ketojan. A list of only two names where no list should be.
Anders stooped down to grab the mage's shoulders, looking up at Hawke sympathetically.
"Leave him."
The man sighed softly, "We can't just leave him here to…"
"Leave him!" Hawke's eyes flicked up from the corpse to catch Anders.
"Come on, Blondie. I think I saw some elf root over there…" Varric took Anders by the arm and lead him away before any real screaming could start. Fenris stayed behind, standing silently at Hawke's shoulder and watching the landscape more than the fallen mage. Always on guard, always waiting for the next attack.
Several minutes passed before Hawke spoke again. She wasn't talking to Fenris, not really, but it needed to be said, and he was standing there, "He could have attacked that sister. Could have attacked us."
The elf gave over on watching the paths to watch Hawke, instead, but didn't reply.
She never looked up, "He knew us a few hours, and he fought for us. Fought to protect us."
Fenris' eyes flickered down to the corpse then back up at her. He still said nothing.
"He didn't deserve this. No one deserves this." She dropped to her knees next to the body and started pulling at the heavy, chained pauldrons and collar, but there didn't seem to be any obvious way of removing it.
"Hawke…"
"Help me," she ordered, yanking now at the chains, her hands shaking.
"Hawke, I do not believe he'd want that."
"That's bullshit!" she yelled at the elf, her fingernails clawing now at the mask covering his face, the stitches holding dead lips closed.
"Hawke," the elf took hold of her shoulder and she shrugged him off, "Hawke, he's gone. Hawke!" Fenris bent down and picked her up bodily, pulling her away from the corpse. She struggled, elbowing him in the ribs before he dropped her and she backed up several steps.
She watched the elf, her eyes flicking from him to the corpse and back, as if considering bum rushing him to get back to the body. A long moment passed before she grunted in impotent frustration and started pacing. Back and forth, back and forth over the same six paces, a tiger in a cage only she could see, "Is that an option, Fenris?" Her hand swept forward, indicating the dead Qunari, "Is that the answer?"
The elf knew what she was asking, but chose not to answer that question, "He was a slave, Hawke. He wanted to be a slave. You were just the last person to hold his leash."
Hawke didn't stop pacing, but her eyes finally decided to settle somewhere - on the elf, "Is that why you follow me, Fenris?"
"I am no slave," he growled, warning.
"No? You follow me around, take my orders, wash off the blood, stay close, stand guard, watch me like an abused dog hoping this time the master will be nice. Where's your leash, puppy?"
"I am no slave!" the elf roared, rushing her, his tattoos blaring into brilliance as he grabbed her shoulders. She flinched away from his anger, from the heat and raw power bleeding from his marked skin. He didn't smile at her, though. Instead he just stared at her for the space of several heartbeats before he shoved her back, turned, and walked away.