—

Choice of words

Next day she doesn't speak and he doesn't prod. She sports a nasty bruise on her jaw. He grimaces every time he has to look at her. Contrary to his beliefs, he wishes that she were able to heal it, remove the evidence of his temper. Even then, he cannot risk allowing her magic to return. Not while they are confined in the belly of a ship on the high seas, with no way for him to escape.

Their interaction comes down to him, pointing out to the next portion of magebane, poured in the glass. And her, gesturing to the plates with food. New bottles replace empty ones with the help of her servant Larinus, who throws hateful looks towards Fenris. When Larinus attempts to say something, she stops him with a hard stare. Fenris wonders, if he was just the same with Danarius before fleeing on Seheron. It's not something he wants to dwell on. This thought makes him crave for wine, and dropping the sword on a spare chair, he sweeps up the nearest bottle.

She copes well with the poison effects, better than the day before. Observing her from the corner of his eye, Fenris muses if she's somewhat getting used to bearing it.

Taking wine with her to the bed, she stares at the ceiling, drinking straight from the bottle. Sitting by the table, he thinks of the previous night and drinks more. Their silence becomes weighty, and he asks himself when she would force him to lose control once again. Not yet though, maybe not today. Maybe not before they arrive at Cumberland.

—

Turning her last words in his head, he looks at their meaning from different angles. When did hatred made him unable to think of anything, but revenge? When had he become a shell, filled with rage? Was it the moment, when the last of the Fog Warriors fell to his feet, or the moment, when he crushed Hadriana's heart? Maybe it was the moment, when he thrust his fist into Danarius' chest? Or when he felt Hawke's blood on his hand? This hate feeds and smothers him at the same time. He doesn't remember how to live without it. He never knew how to live free.

"What is freedom?" He puts his thoughts to word, not sure if she knows or is willing to answer. Not sure if he wants to hear it.

Her voice takes a distant note, when she speaks after a long pause. "There is freedom and freedom, Fenris."

"You make no sense, witch." It was foolish of him to expect anything simple from her.

She snorts and continues, ignoring his insult. "One freedom - is being alone, with no ties to anything or anyone. With nothing to hold you back. Nothing to stop you. With nothing to wish for."

"How is desiring nothing a freedom?" Annoyed, he knits his eyebrows, questioning if there would ever be a day, when he wouldn't want to throttle her.

"When you want something, it forces you to act in the name of your desire, it makes you do things you wouldn't do otherwise." She takes another gulp and sighs. "Sometimes this freedom is also called loneliness. Perhaps they are the same..." Her voice trails off to a whisper, which hangs in the air.

Her words are too strange to comprehend and they just puzzle him more. It cannot be freedom, not the way she describes it, not this coveted thing that always escapes his grasp. But something inside urges him on, and against his better judgment, he asks. "And... another one?"

"Another one is a choice of chains that binds you. Duty. Friends. Love. In the end it is the choice, that sets you free."

Now, the chains he knows too well, but only a magister would somehow link them to freedom. It's contradictory in the very meaning, the witch is mocking him.

"So, is that my choice - desolation or chains? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Chuckling at his ineptitude, she props herself up on her elbows, meeting his angry gaze. "Freedom is a choice. The one you do willingly. This is what I'm trying to tell you. What would you choose, Fenris?"

He was right from the start, not wanting to ask her. All she have - is lies and tricks, and twisted morals, it's all any of them have. He refuses to accept her philosophy, it's suffocating. He needs air. He needs to be alone.

Cringing at this word, he gets up, wondering if voicing it would always bring forth this conversation and her choices.

"I need to go."

"Of course you do. Well, consider it my drunken revelations. Canticle of the magister!" Her laugh sounds bitter, when he slams the door on his way out.

—

Conflicted, Fenris avoids talking to her for the rest of their trip, coming close only when it's time for another portion of magebane. She doesn't resist and doesn't leave her cabin. Sometimes she speaks with Larinus, and he thinks about her relations with the slave. It shouldn't bother him. That she owns a slave - is what should, and it does. But the other part does too, and it's disturbing. No, the sooner he can get away from this mage, the better.

He spends his days in thoughts of the future, now that it's about to be open to him. Where would be a good place for him to go? He finds that it makes no difference as long, as it's not Tevinter. He would feel the same in Orlais or Antiva, or he could even stay in Cumberland. Seheron eventually comes to mind, and for a moment he ponders if he could go there now, as a free man. But no, that guilt is too big. He would never be able to look at its forests without memories of the friends he had slaughtered.

He thinks on what he's capable of doing, besides mercenary jobs. Is it even possible for him to be anything else, than a killer? It's all he ever knew since awakening on that table after the ritual. His Master - no, his former master! he corrects himself, had made sure, that his creation would be perfect at taking lives. Not that Fenris objects to killing things, but it shouldn't be the only way to live. And he's done it too many times to feel regrets for his victims, or remember their numerous faces. Faces other than the Fog Warriors. These he remembers, seeing each one of them in his dreams. They are his punishment. He remembers Hadriana, too. And Danarius. And Hawke. These are his reminder of the creature he came to be.

On the fourth day they dock in Cumberland.