For the Templars 49
You lot are seriously the biggest bunch of worry warts on the planet. Like I would actually remove something a super sexy as Fenris from my story. Now that's just madness. :P
Fenris remembered.
He actually remembered.
Everything about his life was just there.
Every thought, every word; every smell, every taste, every sound; Every face, every name…Everything was just there…
Growing up as a slave in Minrathous with his family, his mother and his baby sister Varania, was hard but when they were together they were happy. He didn't know his father; a master just put two slaves together and demanded a child. Varania had a different father from him, he assumed but it would never change anything. She was his baby sister and that's all that mattered, he would protect them.
Rumours were gathering about a Magister who was giving a boon to whoever could win a tournament to become his experiment. A boon could be anything, women; money…freedom. All he needed to know was who and where. Fenris remembered running around his master's courtyard, doing extra lifting, anything to increase his strength and stamina.
"Leto!" He remembered his mother called to him one afternoon, "If you are serious about this, then talk to the weapons smith, Mason. He will help." Mother had given up trying to talk him out of the tournament, and decided that she would help him in any way she could. Leto ran down to Mason's armoury, as fast as his thirteen year old legs would carry him. Mason was a good man; he was good to them, and he didn't need to be. Mason was a human, probably around thirty and was the closest thing to a father he had ever know. Leto caught sight of Mason's weapon stall and waved to him.
"Mason!" Leto came to a stop before the elderly human who looked at him curiously.
"Leto, where's the fire?" Mason laughed heartily and Leto smiled.
"I'm going to enter that tournament Mason, and I am going to win." Leto grinned widely. Mason just looked at the young elf for a moment before he burst into a fit of laughter. Leto stood up as tall as he could and puffed out his chest, waiting for the smith to finish.
"And… and how do you intend to do that Leto?" Mason chuckled softly before he ruffled the elf's black hair.
"I have been practicing running and punching, I can't lose!" Leto said confidently with a wide grin.
"Are you a mage?" Mason rested his face on his knuckles, watching the small elf.
"No, but-"
"Are you trained with daggers and to sneak?"
"Well…no, but I-"
"Do you have any experience with weapons?"
"Not necessarily, but-"
"Then by what means do you intend to win?"
"You're going to train me." Leto said firmly.
"I am?"
"You are."
Mason gave him a large great sword, far too big for him. But he would train for a while and would grow to use it. The rumours for the competition were denied and many forgot, but Leto didn't. After he had finished his duties for the day, and helped his family with theirs, he would run through the streets of the city to reach the weapon smith's stall near the walls of the city. He would help Mason forge the swords and train with him after the stall had closed, until the middle of the night, when he would return to the Master's home, eager to repeat the process tomorrow.
Four years this process went on. He had grown from a boy to a man, and on the precipice of his seventeenth birthday he finally had his chance. A tournament was announced to be held for the Magister Danarius, in a week's time and a boon had been announced as the prize. However Leto was sure that was not the full story; he was no longer naïve enough to believe that the winner would walk free. Whoever won this would probably never have the benefit of the boon, so he would ask for Varania and his mother's freedom.
He rushed down to the weapons stall and saw Mason running a hand through his short silvery hair. He was getting on in his years, but he was still a valuable trainer. Leto was given the sword again that day and was ready for anything this competition would throw at him.
Fenris remembered the people competing for the prize. Men and women, Elves and humans, warriors or rogues, all competing for the opportunity to impress the Magister Danarius. Dozens stood around the arena.
And he slaughtered them all.
His sister and mother were released, and that was the last he ever saw of them.
The lyrium was burned into his skin several days after the tournament. The pain was unimaginable. The burning of the lyrium wiped away everything he knew. Everything he was, just gone. No area of his body was left untouched and he felt like a freak. The first time he looked in the mirror, he saw nothing strange, and assumed he always looked like that. Remembering now, his hair had gone from a black to that shocking white, and he couldn't understand why.
The memories of the years in service to Danarius flew past his eyes, till they stopped on one specific day. Danarius had arranged for a trip to Seheron for himself and Fenris in a few days' time; hopefully to see what the buzz about the Qunari trouble was about. Fenris was walking down the lavish halls of Danarius' mansion in the city, scowling at the slaves who dared meet his gaze. The Master had a Soothsayer coming which was 'apparently' very important. Fenris inwardly scoffed at the idea. Mages were fools if they believed in these visions from demons. They were only good for one thing, and that was causing pain.
Fenris entered the main hall and bowed before he took his place behind Danarius' throne. The magister barely spared a glance at him as a young woman danced in the middle of the hall. Her long black hair trailed down to her knees, and her eyes covered as she 'consulted the spirits'. The mages girl sang of the future for the magisters gathered, singing of glory for the stronger, and defeat for those one the decline of power before she stopped and turned to Danarius.
"My lord, I see another future. I have already seen and sang of yours, but I see one standing beside you." The girl spoke with a thick Orlesian accent.
"You must see the future of my bodyguard Fenris," Danarius laughed darkly and Fenris struggled not to shudder at the sound. He hated that laugh. It meant that he was either going to kill the mage or humiliate her. "So what do you see?"
"Nothing in detail my Lord. But Slave, watch for the Hawk."
The island of Seheron was suffering its rainy season. He had killed the Fog Warriors and ran from his former master, the horror of what he had done had hit him, and he had ran. The rain pounded down on him, soaking him to his core. He sat against the base of one tree in the thick jungle and prayed to all the gods, any god that the rain would wash away the guilt of what he had done, as easily as it washed the blood away from his armour.
His green eyes looked around the jungle, and hoped for a sign on movement on the ground. A dragon, a wolf, wild dogs, anything to kill him and finally be done with it. His white hair became plastered to his face, which he pushed away from his eyes. What had he done? Every warrior, every woman, every child, he had slaughtered. The men had found and saved him; they trained him and allowed him to hunt with them. The women cared for him, and a few gave him flowers while they blushed.
And he killed every one of them.
A sound of a bird call from above him forced him to look up and gasped at what he saw. A hawk. A large hawk sat staring at him from a branch on a tree with curiosity. Fenris kept his eyes glued to the birds, before the bird hopped around on the branch. It faced the opposite direction before it turned its head back to him. The bird suddenly took off and Fenris leapt to his feet and followed. He ran through the forest and watched for the bird. When he thought he had lost sight of it, the hawk would swoop down in front of him and fly forward.
The words of the Soothsayer echoed in his ears. 'Watch for the hawk', he refused to let the bird out his sight before the forest cleared and he stopped suddenly. A large ship stood proud at the docks and Fenris saw the hawk land on the mast before turning back to him and calling. He recognised it as a cargo ship and listened carefully for any signs of who it belonged to. He heard a Tevinter dialect and recognised it as the local slang of Vyrantium, one of the southern Tevinter cities along the coast. He had to get aboard the ship and go south.
He had followed that Hawk through the harsh deserts and it even helped him avoid the slave hunter traps on numerous occasions. He had tried calling it to him, but it always stayed just out of his reach. The bird; he noticed would fly always ahead before turning back to him and lead him on. He always hoped that the slavers wouldn't notice the hawk.
But one did.
He remembered as he was walking on the outskirts of Hunter Fell in Nevarra, a few years after he had escaped from Danarius in Seheron. He was finding the cities he visited strange places, but he was trying to get further on. He looked up at his hawk that was flying high in the sky. He smiled before an arrow pierced the bird and it fell to the ground. That battle was hard, and he managed to run into a dwarf needing help, Anso…
The dwarf helped him to Kirkwall where he ran into more slavers, more than he had encountered before. He asked Anso to find someone who could help.
He did.
Hawke.
Every moment he had shared with her played itself out in his mind. The first time they fought back to back together, the first time he had made her laugh like a maniac… the first time they had made love.
Every smile, every kiss, every touch. They all were magnified and intensified in his mind. He memorised each feature of her face, her large blue eyes, a very light dusting of freckles along her neck. The way her red hair was naturally straight, and she would spend ages getting it to go into soft ringlets by her shoulder. The way if she laughed too hard for too long; she would give a snort, and blush for ages, while still laughing. The way her voice could go from loud and boisterous; attracting the complete and undivided attention of everyone who heard; to soft and gentle when she spoke to him in the early hours.
Everything about her was just intensified in the most wonderful way, even whatever few flaws she had. But they didn't matter. She was perfect.
And she was his.
His wife.
His friend.
His love.
'Mea…'
Fenris felt pain… a lot of pain. His eyes fluttered open and he looked around and saw he was in their bed at the estate. He glanced down and saw he was bandaged up and saw Hawke sitting on the bed, with her hand in his, praying. Fenris tightened his fingers around hers and she gasped softly before she looked up, hopefully.
"Fenris…" Hawke watched him for a second before he raised a hand to cup her face. She didn't have her usual pink lip colour or her dark eye shadow on, and he smiled softly.
"You're so beautiful." Fenris croaked out and Hawke began crying.
"You're ok, thank the Maker," Hawke kissed his hands as she cried by his side. He urged her closer and ran his thumb over her lips. Hawke kissed the pad of his thumb and he smiled.
"I am here, Mea. Everything will be fine." Fenris said softly and Hawke nodded softly before she cried and showered kisses along his face. "I love you Hawke,"
"I love you Fenirs," Hawke sniffled "But if you ever scare me like this again I am seriously going to hurt you." Fenris laughed softly.
"I know."
After he was hurt in battle, the Vigilantem tried to get the sword. Hawke killed every single one of them before she rushed to his side. Legodur and his group had returned just after and Hawke said how Anders had worked for two days trying to stabilise him. He had been out cold for ten days solid, which he found rather amusing, he always thought that Hawke was the lazy one in their relationship.
Sebastian was still in the city, but Alistair and his Queen had returned to Ferelden a few days ago, but Hawke would send word of his recovery. Everyone had come to visit him and talk to him about what had happened. Isabela and Zevran had helped to destroy the sword after the battle was over and scattered the fragments they couldn't destroy. The mages helped to stablise him and deal with any other fringe elements of the Vigilantem. But the most impressive of all was the Varric had 'apparently' takn down half of the assassins after he saw the elf go down. Impressive if true.
All the men were currently playing cards with him in his bed. Anders had to make sure Fenris' injury wasn't infected and Hawke had told them to play nice and not argue and so were currently getting on.
"I win, again. I am starting to wonder if you are all just letting me win because I am unwell." Fenris smiled and Varric laughed.
"I told you he would notice, and unwell my ass. I know you are just acting to get pampered," Varric stuck his tongue out at the elf who shrugged softly with a smile.
The dwarf knew him better than he thought.
"So when are you thinking of having the wedding?" Isabela asked a blushing Merrill in the library.
"We… we haven't decided yet, everything has just happened so quickly." Merrill smiled.
"Well everyone is ok so that is the most important thing," Aveline sighed softly and turned to see Hawke watching Merrill intently.
"Hawke?" Merrill asked carefully.
"You're pregnant."
"What?" Isabela jumped out of her seat and to Merrill's side. "Why did you not tell me?"
"I don't know what you're talking about Hawke," Merrill answered genuinly and Hawke smiled.
"Have you been sick in the mornings?"
"Yes, it started a few days ago…"
"Have you been feeling a bit more emotional?"
"Well this whole time has been pretty dramatic, so yes" Merrill blushed.
"Then you're pregnant," Hawke grinned widely at her, "Just some advice; if yours is anything like mine, the bugger will kick up a storm." Hawke laughed as Delba entered the room.
"Well that's the last of the bodies sent to the Gallows for inspection." Delba smiled at Hawke and helped her up.
"I need to talk to Fenris now."
"Are you sure about this Hawke?" Aveline rested a hand on Hawke's shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. Hawke smiled back at her and placed her hand on Aveline's.
"I'm positive. I won't ask any of you to do this if you don't want to. I won't hold you to anything," Hawke smiled at the group before she made her way upstairs.
She opened the door and saw Varric passing around mugs of ale, while still trying to cheat at cards.
"Varric, I said no alcohol." Hawke said and the activity stopped as they all turned to look at her.
"Well… yes you did; but the elf is feeling so much better now, he had to have a drink." Varric smiled weakly and Hawke gestured to the door as the men exited with a grumble.
Fenris swung his legs over the side on the bed and sat up straight, while he watched her. Anders had done a good job healing him, and there was only a small, pale scar along his chest, but it did not touch the lyrium veins in his skin. Hawke sighed before she walked to the bed and sat next to him with a grunt as the baby kicked again.
"I see you missed me too," Fenris kissed her stomach gently before he smiled up at her. "What do you need my love?"
"I… I need to tell you something Fenris." Hawke said seriously as he nodded.
"Tell me and it is done," He said sincerely and Hawke smiled softly before she sighed.
"I don't want to live in this city anymore."
"And so we fled into the hills away from the city. As for the rest of us? Eventually we all left the Champion's side for one reason or another… Well, all of us except for Fenris. You still hear the stories of course. With each telling they grow, even if at the core remains the truth. A new legend had been born" Varric sighed heavily, "So that's it. That's the whole story."
"So Meredith turned on the Champion? She was to blame," The Seeker Cassandra pondered loudly.
"That or that dammed idol. Or Anders, take your pick," Varric grumbled.
"Even so, had the Champion not been there…" Cassandra wondered.
"Then, I suppose, Meredith would be ruling the city still."
"But the Champion is not in Kirkwall any longer." Cassandra raised an eyebrow at the dwarf.
"So I hear! Isn't it strange how quickly fortunes change?" Varric smirked.
"I see."
"So how is hearing this going to help? You've already lost all the Circles. In fact, haven't the Templars rebelled as well? I thought you decided to abandon the Chantry to hunt the mages?" Varric couldn't help but tease some information out of her.
"Not all of us desire war, Varric." The Seeker said sincerely "Please, if you know where the Champion is you must tell me. She is a hero, a woman that the Templars respect. Someone who was there at the beginning. The Champion could stop this madness before it's too late. She may be the only one who can."
"Is that what this is all about?" Varric scowled before he relaxed and sighed. "In that case, I wish I could help you."
"Just tell me one thing. Is the Champion dead?" Cassandra asked.
"Oh I doubt that." Varric smiled. Like anything could kill Hawke.
Cassandra stayed silent for a second before she looked at him. "Then you are free to go, Varric. May the Maker watch over you during the dark times ahead of us." She walked from the room. A new hope for the quest.
"Same to you, Seeker. Same to you." Varric waited a while before he stood, and brought some life back into his legs. That was certainly the longest story he had told without moving or drinking. He walked out and saw that Sister Nightingale leaving the grounds of the estate. Varric turned and sighed as he took a look at the Hawke estate.
That was it then.
"Goodbye Hawke…" Varric whispered softly.
"I hardly think she wants to say goodbye just yet Varric." Varric spun and Saw Delba leaning against a pillar with a smile on her face.
"Delbs?" He called her nickname and she smiled at him.
"The very same," She still wore her white hair in a tight bun and he smiled as her silver eyes watched him softly. "But this is hardly the end Varric. So are you coming?"
Varric grinned widely at her before he answered.
"Just try and stop me."
The End.
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Yeah right! I had you there didn't I? Stay tuned for the final chapter the Epilogue! Thanks again to everyone.
