Thank you so much to Bear Mage, Wicked Lullaby & Fallon-Idalia for your reviews on the last couple chapters, and to everyone who's been reading/favoriting/watching.
I'm sorry again for the updates being slow - things have been busy for me, but I think they'll calm down a bit soon. Enjoy!
Fenris hadn't slept that night. He had laid down on Astoria's bed, feeling too uncomfortable to sleep in the other ones. Astoria, meanwhile, slept fitfully in Sharna's bed. She was having bad dreams, but he didn't bother her.
He got sick of tossing on the bed and crept outside, sitting down against the wall of the barn.
His anxiety was sky high. He couldn't stop fidgeting, and he never fidgeted, so it was serious. With the sunrise, he'd be going into Minrathous. With Danarius and Hadriana dead, he knew some of his anxiety was unfounded. Still, Fenris knew his monetary worth. The lyrium in his skin was worth more money than if diamonds were put in his skin. Fenris had no idea how many sovereigns that amounted to, but he knew he was worth a city.
If the wrong person saw him in Minrathous, someone that maybe recognized him as Danarius' ex-bodyguard, he'd be done for.
Fenris' biggest fear concerned Varania. He knew that Varania didn't know Astoria had found him. She would have no reason to expect him, to prepare for him. Still, he didn't know what her intentions were with Astoria. Did she truly have information on Lysander, or was it a trap for someone to capture Astoria, a woman of high standing in the slave resistance?
If she had anything less than the purest of intentions, he knew no one could stop him.
He had been conflicted afterwards, after he cooled down, when Hawke had kept him from killing Varania. Sometimes he was glad that he hadn't gone through with it, other times he found himself trying to convince himself that it was necessary – that he should have killed her.
Fenris sighed and put his head between his knees in the dark of the pre-dawn.
He heard the slow creak of the mattress inside. For a moment he wondered if Astoria was getting up, if she would come and join him in the early morning and watch the sun rise over the hills to the east. He wanted her to. He enjoyed her company, she was soothing to him.
Fenris smoothed his palms over his thighs and leaned his head back against the barn's wall with a bit more force than intended. A cat stalked through the crops not far away, and the birds were singing wildly, obnoxiously.
The path before him, as he saw it, was almost at its end in one way or another. He knew he would not be captured again, he'd die before he'd be anyone's slave again. He played out other scenarios in his mind. What if Varania actually had Lysander, if she had been taking care of him all this time? What if she didn't know where the boy was? What if she did?
It made his head spin.
He needed to think of something else to distract him, or he feared he'd lose his mind before the sun rose. He relived his marriage. It was the happiest, most in-depth memory he had from before. He focused on little things in the memory – the glance between Astoria and his mother, the feel of Astoria's green dress in his fist afterwards as he pulled it slowly up her leg, the way his voice had sounded younger, not as deep.
He heard the barn door swing open slowly, and he cleared his throat, pulling himself out of the memory quickly. Slightly irritated, as if he had been caught doing something, he looked to see Astoria stepping out of the barn.
"Fenris?" She asked, her voice soft.
"I'm here," he said.
"Ah." She furrowed her brow. "May I join you?"
He hummed affirmatively and Astoria settled on the ground beside him.
"You cannot sleep either," he noted. To the east the sky was beginning to lighten, just barely.
"No. I keep worrying about him."
He didn't say anything, but he didn't give her a reason to stop talking either.
"When I get him back... I hope he's the same sweet little boy I used to know."
Fenris didn't want to tell her that he wouldn't be, much like himself. He didn't want to tell her that the boy was probably dead, long gone at the hands of a disgusting magister who would sacrifice an innocent child for a bit more power.
"I know it's foolish of me to hope for that. But he was wonderful. He was five years old when I found out that my mother and father had died in the Blight, and he was so sweet. He went and brought me flowers, it was the cutest thing looking back on it. It was just a couple months before your mother passed, and when that happened, he was heartbroken, but I don't think he really understood it. He'd keep asking me when 'nana' was coming back."
She let out a sob into her palm and shook her head, trying to regain her composure. Fenris put an arm tentatively around her shoulders and drew her towards him.
There were so many things she had gone through that he never gave any though because he was so consumed with himself. Hearing more of where she had been made him feel guilty, unworthy and ashamed while at the same time he admired her strength. She had plenty of reason to hate, and she still didn't. She had reason to hate him, specifically, because his freedom had cost her her own son, though Fenris knew she didn't see it that way.
"He asked me about you," she told him with her temple against his collarbone. With one arm around her, he interlaced the fingers on his other hand with hers. "He wanted to learn all the sparring techniques you taught me. He was a little fighter, that one."
Fenris smirked. "I'm not surprised. Both his parents are skilled."
He realized that was the first time he had acknowledged being a father to her face. It didn't feel like anything was different, it was just a fact. There was no monumental shift that he felt. Maybe he had come to terms with it before. Fenris told himself that acknowledging the child didn't mean he had to actually be a father.
"I'm sorry... I interrupted your... thinking, out here. You were having a nice time before I came out and started complaining."
Fenris chuckled. "You're not interrupting anything."
The sky to the east was getting lighter, and now the shape of the landscape around him was vaguely visible in the dark twilight.
"Are you having second thoughts?"
He frowned and pressed his cheek against her hair. "Yes."
"I'm sorry. I will understand if you leave."
He ran a thumb over the back of her hand. Months ago, he never would have imagined showing affection to anyone on this level, but now that he was experiencing it, he wanted more and more. He had never touched or been touched so gently before by anyone, he couldn't imagine why he had denied himself the pleasure for so many years.
"Whether you mean to or not, this is still a trap for me."
"I know," she said softly. "But I won't let anyone take you."
He felt the corner of his lip twitch. "That remains to be seen."
She sighed, but didn't argue. "You think low of me."
"I think low of almost everyone." At least in that, he was honest, mostly. "Not you, however."
Fenris could feel her smiling against his collarbone.
"You've changed a lot," she whispered after a few long moments, "since I met you in Kirkwall."
Fenris shut his eyes and took in the scent of her hair. "But I'm not like I was, am I?"
Astoria shrugged slightly. "You don't have to be Leto. You aren't him. Getting Leto's memories doesn't make you any more of who you are. You aren't less a man without them."
"I don't know if I agree. Waking up without any memory..." Fenris said somberly, "to wake up and be eighteen years old and not know how you got there – I certainly did not feel like a man."
Astoria's fingers trailed softly over Fenris' abdomen, tracing circles on his tunic. "Fenris... we are not who we are because of what's been done to us."
Hours later, Fenris was completely miserable. He sat in the back of a dark covered wagon, with Astoria practically on his lap, though it was clear she was trying to provide him with all of the space his demeanor demanded. They were cramped in the back corner of the wagon, behind a few rows of kegs and barrels of wine – not all full.
Norval and Hollan had arranged for a smuggler to get them into Minrathous without being spotted. Not long after dawn, a rickety covered wagon drawn by two horses went lazily down the dirt road at the bottom of the farm. The elf that drove it seemed decent enough, but Fenris couldn't find it in himself to trust the man.
If anyone was planning something awful, Fenris was sure it would happen now – while he was trapped in a small space without the proper amount of room to even brandish his sword. To help put his mind at ease, Astoria offered him one of her daggers, which he accepted and placed on the floor beside him.
They were in that wagon most of the morning in silence, listening intently to the changes in the sounds outside. When they heard a guard approach the wagon, they both froze. Fenris closed his slender fingers around the dagger, though he knew he was hidden completely by the barrels and kegs.
"Oi, elf, what's your cargo?"
"Wine from Nevarra and ale from the Free Marches," the elf answered, sounding sure of himself. Astoria put her hand reassuringly on Fenris' knee and shut her eyes as if in prayer. Fenris shot her a glare but she didn't see it.
"I'm going to take a look," said the guard. Fenris bowed his head and balled his free hand in a fist. Astoria shrunk beside him, curling herself into the smallest ball that physics would allow as the heavy armor-plated footsteps of the guard rounded the wagon.
Light flooded into the wagon as the gate was opened. Fenris and Astoria went absolutely still as they held their breath and listened. The guard could not see them, but he did have the right to rummage through and count the barrels – which would of course lead to him finding them.
"I want to see the inventory list," the guard demanded.
"Sure," the elf answered. A few moments passed and the guard gave a sigh.
"Alright, you're free to go in." The gate to the back of the wagon slammed shut and Fenris let out a silent breath.
"Have a good day, ser," the elf said cheerfully, earning a grunt of reply from the guard.
Fenris shifted his gaze to Astoria, feeling only slightly foolish for being so wary. He tried to shift as the wagon began its noisy and bumpy roll into the city. They knew that they were inside when the volume multiplied. Merchants were calling out to passersby in Arcanum, people were all around, talking about a variety of things, someone was playing a string instrument on the corner of a street.
Fenris shuddered even though he was sweating in the heat. Several times the wagon had to stop short, which caused an empty barrel to fall onto them, earning a hushed curse from Fenris' mouth. He was cramping up all over and sore from having no room to move.
An agonizing half-hour later, the wagon bounced uncomfortably to a halt in a quiet part of the city. The elf driving began whistling as he opened the gate to the wagon and said low as to not draw attention, "when you can, make it look like you're helping me unload."
They said nothing as the first barrel was pushed to the side. Fenris put Astoria's dagger on his belt and shared a relieved glance with her.
Fenris helped the man unload two barrels, before the elf gave them a brief nod. Astoria stepped out of the wagon and stretched like a cat after a long nap. Fenris pulled the hood of the black cloak Astoria had given him over his own head and wrapped his scarf around him. Here, he'd have to keep his markings concealed.
It had been mutually decided that if anyone questioned them, Astoria would explain that he was her bodyguard and she was the wife of a wealthy merchant from Vyrantium. For all intensive purposes, he would go by the name Verran. Fenris chose it – not wanting to come up with a name that had no meaning to him. Verran was his father, and he knew that he would react if he heard Astoria say it as opposed to a nonsense name that one of them could forget.
They said a quick good-bye to the elf and Astoria led Fenris out of the alleyway they had been dropped off in.
They didn't speak as they weaved their way through the streets, not bringing more attention than any other young woman of Astoria's appearance would receive. Fenris walked just behind her, his jade eyes nervously scanning the face of everyone they passed.
The only people to pay any attention to them were lecherous men – many of whom were poor or sleazy in appearance. They would glance between her and Fenris and seem to have second thoughts about catcalling her. But they were blatant in other ways – nudging each other and wiggling their eyebrows as she walked by, paying them no notice.
It made Fenris irritated. If men looked at her like that, with his intimidating presence behind her, how did they act when she was alone? How did she defend herself when she lived on the streets with his family for those few months before moving out to the farm? Had anyone overpowered her or Varania or, Maker forbid, his mother?
Fenris felt nauseous thinking about it.
Astoria knew the layout of Minrathous far better than he had. Fenris only knew a few parts of the city, parts that they were nowhere near. He was immensely thankful that they weren't walking by the slave auctions, or Danarius' estate.
Minrathous didn't have an alienage. That section of the city had been blocked off and burned to the ground during a slave rebellion one time, to the delight of the magisters. In its place stood the newest capitol building – an enormous structure with sprawling gardens in it's wide courtyard. It was a slap in the face to any elf or slave, and that's how things worked in Minrathous.
Fenris could see its tallest tower as they weaved through a set of streets down a sloping hill. Astoria led him into an alleyway and pounded her fist on a door beside a barrel of garbage. Fenris scrunched his nose and stood beside her as they waited.
The door opened a fraction, and an elven woman looked out at them.
"Hello, miss," she said sheepishly, holding the door almost shut. "There is a door on the main street that leads to the tavern, if you wish for drink."
Astoria shook her head and smiled softly at the woman. "No, thank you, we are looking for Hollan."
"Hollan?" Fenris could see that the woman was feigning ignorance.
"Yes, he's expecting us. Norval from the south sent us."
Her eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, yes, my apologies." The door swung open. "No one has seen you two come into the city, have they?"
"No, we were unnoticed."
"Ah, good then. Welcome. I'm Avanna."
"Astoria," she said and then gestured to Fenris.
"Fenris." He said with a curt nod. They stepped inside and Avanna shut the door behind her. They were in a dark storage room with wooden crates and boxes everywhere.
"Here," said the elven woman with a wide grin that faltered as Fenris tugged his scarf down under his chin to reveal his markings. Fenris rolled his eyes in irritation and glanced at Astoria. The woman clasped her hands in front of her and forced a polite smile. "Come with me you two, I'll show you around."