.xxxvii.
Fenris knows something is wrong, he can feel it. It's indescribable, just a sudden feeling of... dread. Wrongness. His brands tingle along his spine and arms. It hits him quickly as he watches from the window of the warehouse they are waiting in.
"You've got that look," Isabela observes, "That 'something is wrong-gut instinct look'."
"I... I don't know," he admits. "I suddenly-"
"Bellator! Lyrium bellator!" a shout rings out fro, the street.
"Is that-?" Carver asks, sticking his head out the window. "It's her, it's Primus' thief friend."
"Why is she here?" Merrill asks, brows knitted in concern. "If she's here and not the others-"
"Something's gone wrong," finishes Aveline, swinging the door open to receive the praesumptor.
"Branding!" the woman gasps, throwing herself through the door, loose black clothes billowing around her. "Danarius is planning to brand her. Now!"
"What!?" Carver blinks. "You can't be serious!"
"We have to go, quickly. We don't have much time. The guests should be clear by the time we get back, but we most move quickly or your friend may be lost to us forever."
Everyone scatters, going for their weapons. The praesumptor lingers in the door for half a second, moonlight spilling in over her shoulders.
"Bellator!" she calls again, crossing the room to speak to him as the others prepare, throwing off her hood. Bright red hair falls forward around her face, bright green eyes watching him intently.
Something in his chest pangs, a familiarity. Before he can ask, she speaks.
"The situation is more desperate than I had thought, so I must tell you this now."
"Tell me-?" Images are flickering in his minds eye, the feeling of familiarity growing. "You-" he blinks, suddenly seeing her differently. "You are... you can't be- but I remember... we used to play together. You called me-"
"Leto." One word brings down memories he had thought long gone. Flashes of a life from before, turning from black and white into color, childhood, family. He nearly staggers under the weight of it all. "That is your name, you're true name. I had hoped to discuss this with you later, in depth, but I do not believe we will have the time."
"Why- you didn't tell me you were a praesumptor? Why didn't you say something-"
"I had to be sure it was you. I have been working with the Praesumptor for a long time. We are known primarily as thieves, but that is not our only function. When I received word that people matching the descriptions of the friends you had mentioned in your letters, I alerted Primus, who has long been looking for aid against Danarius. And it was you, but I did not want to throw personal business into the mix until my mission was complete. As I said, I had hoped to reveal this to you after this business was sorted out, but we have no time.
"I had taken the position of apprentice under Danarius in order to operate undercover. I thought I knew what his plan was, but he must have changed it. Now we have to go or else-"
"Any day now," prompts Isabela, dashing by and spinning her daggers.
"I am sorry for the deception. I will answer any questions you want when we are finished, Leto."
"Fine," he agrees, unable to come up with any other coherent thought. Varania, here in front of him. The sister who had only existed in letters from across the sea standing in front of him. She'd been here the whole time. "Varania." She pauses in the middle of drawing her hood back up. "Thank you."
A small smile before she turns, beckoning the others to follow her.
As they streak through the streets of Minrathous, he tries not to think of Hawke tries not to think of her screaming, prays that they make it in time.
But something in his heart tells him to prepare for the worst.
It takes too long to make it to the estate, but old memories, not ones hidden by brands and magic but ones he would like to forget come bubbling to the surface. To think, all this time, and Danarius is still in the same place. The years have changed so much, but not this. It's difficult to think around the mounting, irrational horror that comes over him when he sees the familiar place.
Varania leads them in a secret entrance, hidden by thick vines of foliage and they creep into a dark, silent room. Varania lifts a hand, conjuring wisps of light into her hands.
"You're a mage?" he exclaims in a whisper.
She gives him a look. "Yes. How else could I have taken up the apprenticeship, as I told you?"
"Maybe now's not the time for the 'I hate all mages routine' Carver hisses, nudging him forward.
If they manage to live through this, there is going to be a lot to discuss afterward.
"Shh!" Aveline commands, holding up a hand. "Did you hear that?"
They all pause, listening closely. It's faint, barely perceptible, but it's there.
A scream.
"Creators, no, that can't be..." Merrill gasps, dismayed.
"Hawke," Fenris chokes. He knows that voice. He knows that scream.
"That's my sister!" Carver bites out, furious. "I'm going to break this bastard's neck!"
"Get in a line," a well-known whisper sounds from around the corner, and Varric appears with Sebastian, Anders, and Primus just behind him.
"How long has this been going on?" Aveline attempts to ascertain.
"Too long," hisses Anders, "We've been trying to follow the screams-"
"This place is difficult to navigate," explains Varania, ushering them all to follow her closely. "It was designed to keep prisoners from escaping."
"This is a jail?" Aveline asks, looking around carefully as they move forward.
Primus scoffs. "This is a dungeon."
Hawke's screams gradually get louder, and hoarser.
"Maker, what is he doing to her?" Sebastian breathes, but no one does him the disservice of answering. As they draw closer, they move faster, speeding ahead with purpose.
"We're coming Hawke," whispers Isabela, "hold on."
An arrow goes flying through the air and wedges itself in the wall.
"Fantastic," Aveline grits out, lifting her shield to block more arrows. "He knows we're coming."
"We don't have time for this!" Carver shouts, as slavers descend from their hiding places.
"Go ahead!" commands Varric, "We'll take care of this. Go get Hawke!" Aveline, Varric, Isabela and Sebastian stay behind to deal with the slavers while the others sprint ahead. Several more twists and turns, and they reach the door at the end of the spiraling hall.
"He will have magical defenses, and Maker knows what else," informs Varania producing a key to the door. "Prepare yourselves."
She opens the door.
Time slows.
In the center of the room is a table with a small figure strapped to it, throwing her head back and shrieks, voice broken and rasping twisting against the straps of the table she is bound to, underneath the iron grip of a tattoo covered man with a long, glistening needle. Fenris is assailed with horror: It's Hawke, bound and twitching, plaintive moans rising from her broken looking figure.
Hawke here, in this place, suffering as she is, and his own terror, fear he thought he had conquered long ago returning so quickly. He pushes it down, letting adrenaline take him forward, into the room, letting his anger quell the primal terror he feels being in this room.
"Sister!" Carver yells, shooting forward into the room, heedless of the other occupant of the room and heading straight toward her. Anders catches him by the arm, silently motioning to a darker corner of the room, from which a voice emanates, low and threatening.
"My little wolf. You've returned."
Danarius.
Even worse than Hawke on the table is his master- his former master- standing there, imperious and untouchable. The sight turns his stomach, it's been so long... but time has not dulled his hatred, nor done anything to soothe the wounds. Red tinges the edge of his vision as he stalks forward, sword drawn.
Danarius grins. "Have you missed me much?"
"Release her," Fenris growls, feeling more confident as his friends pour into the room behind him, armed and ready to fight. No longer is he alone. No longer is he a slave, forced to obey orders without thought.
"Or you'll what?" teases Danarius, sauntering across the wide room, dragging his fingers along the edge of the table Hawke lies upon. "That may not be wise. You don't know what could happen to her." He presses a finger into her forearm, and she contorts, jerking away and letting out a gargled scream.
Beside him, Carver flinches. "He's stalling!"
Danarius smiles, leaning against the table and turning Hawke's pale, pinched face to them, his associate having fled the scene. "Do you really want to risk it? You've come all this way to save her, the great Champion. How unfortunate it would be for her to die so quickly." He drops her face and her head falls to the table with an audible 'thunk'.
"What do you want, Danarius?" Fenris finally asks, stomach churning.
"You know what I want. Come back to me, little wolf. I let your friends go."
"What about my sister?" Carver demands.
"She and Fenris stay with me. The rest of you, as I said, escape with your lives." He shrugs, as if there's nothing he can do about it. "She and I have a contract. She willingly gave herself into my service."
"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear enough," Carver restates, his blade flashing in the candle light. "Let my sister go or they'll be cleaning your insides out of the cracks in the wall for the rest of the week."
Danarius throws his head back and crows, body shaking with laughter. "You are her beloved brother! You sound so alike, the same empty threats. She's been screaming for you to save her for a while now."
"You cast a foul shadow on mages who would be forces for good," a thundering voice sounds from behind them. Blue light overtakes the earthen red of the room. "You're reign of terror is finished, maleficar."
Merrill blanches. "Oh, that's not good."
For the first time since they've stepped into the room, the look on Danarius' face changes from supercilious superiority to panic. "An abomination?" he questions, circling the table and putting his back to the wall. "You aren't the only one who communes with demons."
Danarius swipes a hand, drawing forth undead and demons from the very ground at his feet. Immediately, everyone launches into battle, swords and staffs and arrows all flying with merciless intensity. HE, Carver and Aveline, and Isabela take the front line, cutting down the more numerous weaker enemies while the others deal with the Revenant Danarius has called to fight for him.
"This was the reason for all of your blood rituals!" Primus explains, narrowly dodging the gore covered talons. Danarius doesn't bother with a response, he's too busy concentrating on trying to hit them with projectiles of varying substances.
The others yell maneuvers at each other, Justice utterly destroys droves of shades at a time, Merrill goes streaking by with several reanimated corpses chasing her, and Fenris slams into them, earning a harried thanks from her before she turns and petrifies a rage demon.
"Fenris!" Varania calls, using her staff to bash a shade in it's single, glimmering purple orb, indicating a clear path to Hawke. Without a second thought, he springs forward, only to get knocked off his feet by a blast of blood magic. Carver goes sprinting by, savaging anything that dare get in his way.
"It would have been so much easier if you had just followed orders, Fenris." Danarius speaks, as he conjures more thralls. "Your friends wouldn't have to die."
Fenris roars "No!" and slams forward, into Danarius, knocking the man off his feet. The mage is quick to strike back, hitting him with a spike of ice that shatters against his breastplate, sending him reeling.
Primus covers his opening, sending a massive bolder hurtling across the room at the mage, who dissipates into mist and reappears elsewhere. Carver has reached his sister and is hacking away at the restraints when the magister notices him, and redirects his minions to the younger Hawke. He jumps away from his sister, trying to draw their attention so that someone else can finish freeing Hawke.
"You will feel Justice's burn!" Anders booms in a voice that is not his, and throws crackling blue energy at the magister. Fenris never thought he'd see the day when he was thankful for the spirit residing in the healer.
"Stop, Fenris," orders Danarius, not seeming to fatigue as he calls forth more and more enemies. For every one they strike down, two rush forward in its place. "These people shouldn't have to die for you. You're not worth it."
"Shut your mouth!" Primus commands, landing a blow on the magister. "You've always talked too much." Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Carver launches at Danarius, plummeting to the floor as the mage vanishes in front of him, and rematerializes behind him. Before the Warden can react, Danarius has caught him in a holding spell, raising a ceremonial dagger to his throat. "I suggest you lay down your weapons if you want the boy to live."
Everyone freezes mid battle. They have little choice but to drop their weapons, as he said. The dark spirits and undead surround them
"Carver!" Merrill cries, face darkening. "Let him go!"
"One life for two: I give you the boy, and you stay, Fenris. I won't ask again. Do you really think she'd be happy about you sacrificing her brother for your freedom? She's already lost so much because of you."
"That's not happening," Varric states, entering the room with the others on his heels, soaked in blood. "Give us both Hawkes, and I won't let Fenris beat you too badly."
"Oh, I don't think so. I have the upper hand." For emphasis, Danarius grabs a handful of Carver's hair and yanks his head back, nicking his neck. A rivulet of deep red blood rolls down and over the collar of his armor. "I have so enjoyed this, but now the time for fun is over." A touch of desperation is in his voice, perhaps he is tiring-
"You're right. Party's over," a cracking voice utters from behind the magister, and before he has the chance to turn, his face freezes in shock. From behind, someone has slapped a collar around his neck. Carver breaks away, taking the knife with him.
"You bitch!" Danarius howls, trying to pull it off, despite it's lock. Fenris wastes no time stepping forward and lifting the man clear into the air, slamming him into the stone floor with so much force that he feels the impact reverberate up his arm. The thralls fall without power; the demons and shades retreat as the corpses clatter to the floor in heaps of bones.
Danarius struggles, clawing at Fenris' hands. "No! You don't want to do this!"
Fenris snorts. "I find that very hard to believe."
"I saved you!" the magister screams, haughty superiority now entirely replaced by desperate panic. "I saved you from the mediocre, the pointless existence of a peon! I made you great."
"You used me and our mother to convince him to enter your competition," Varania snarls. "You told him you would free us all!"
"I did!" Danarius shoots back. "You had the freedom you wanted, but it wasn't all you'd hoped for was it, Varania?" She slides off her hood, staring down her nose at him. "I'm disappointed at your betrayal, girl. Not surprised, but disappointed. I could have made you more."
"What competition?" questions Fenris, looking from his sister to Danarius. "What is he talking about?"
"You mean she hasn't told you how you fought for the honor of those brands? You killed for them. The blood of the hundreds you killed is mixed with that lyrium. No doubt you've made me out to be the aggressor here, but you were willing."
He looks to Varania, struck by the revelation. Even as Danarius spoke the words he could see it in his minds eye, the other competitors falling under his blade, the feel of the oppressive sun and dried blood across his face, cheering crowds and Danarius smiling, beckoning...
"It's true," she admits. "For a very long time I resented you for it. But I know you were trying to do right by mother and I."
He shakes his head, not wanting to believe it. All this time, he had thought...
"The life I gave you was better than the one you would have had without me. I saved you. You should be thanking me!" Danarius struggles. "I made you more than you are."
"He actually believes that," Varric scoffs. "Unbelievable."
"I made myself more," Fenris corrects. "Not you." This man does not get to lay claim to anything that he was or is.
"Don't kill me, Fenris, I command you to stop!"
He gladly disobeys this last order.
Revenge is rarely satisfying, the aftershock, anyway, but for a moment he feels something close to bliss as he picks up his former master's form and slams him into the floor again and again and again, until the stones glisten red and the face that has tormented him for years goes slack. He can't stop himself, he just keeps slamming him into the ground, reveling in the feeling, the sound of breaking bones, cracking vertebrae, the gargled screams for mercy that stop with the final wet smack of a bloodied skull against stone.
"-ris."
He keeps going, keeps smashing.
"-enris."
He is not a slave and he never will be again. He will die before he bends knee to another and-
"Fenris!"
He drops the corpse with a final thud and stands, dazed. Danarius is a gory mess barely recognizable.
"It's done, Fenris," Aveline speaks quietly. "He's dead."
Author's Note: GAH! This is the longest, and was the most difficult chapter to date.
I had a lot of trouble with this because I couldn't seem to kill Danarius in a way that satisfied me. To be honest, I blew him up, set him on fire, had Fenris tear out heart, had Fenris tear off his arms and beat him with them (I was getting frustrated). After much trial and error, I decided to smash him to death. I don't know about you guys but the only way I could be happy was if Danarius was a pile of mush by the end of this.
I apologize to anyone who was not satisfied by his death, please imagine him being beaten to death with his own legs. It will help assuage the pain.
Avatarfan444: AGHHH! OH MY GOODNESS WHAT A COMPLIMENT. I can die happy now:')
nekochan129: Oh! If I do a sad ending, ultimately, I'll make sure to write a happy one just for you!
Cass-The-Nerd: I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make you sick! I mean Danarius is pretty sickening so I don't blame you. I felt pretty ill writing it as well. I hope this chapter makes you feel better!
IDRKIt'sme: I hope you didn't have to wait too long! Here it is! And I'm really sorry about the cliffhangers, I hate them too, but mine are mostly unintentional.
Tanith: I'm really interested in your story! I'd love to hear more. Only people who aren't writers yell at writers to work faster. You can't rush art! So don't feel rushed!
AmberJF: I'm laughing oh my goodness. Hawke would probably laugh too, if she could rememeber why she should be laughing:) As stated above, Fenris will never be a slave again. Unless I'm feeling really, really evil for my next story.
Knifeinthedarkness: Your review is the entire story summed up in a sentence. Or at least what I was going for.
Secret Companion: Are you happy now? :D
Up next: The fun doesn't end here! They're almost out of dodge, almost, interference is bound to occur. Will Hawke be okay? While anyone be okay (probably not lol)? Stay tuned!