"Could you give me a hand, Fenris?" Merrill crouches at the edge of the cliff they've been scouring for the last three hours, leaning over the edge in what looks like an attempt to kill herself by crashing onto the wave breaking rocks far below.

Fenris hurries over to her and grabs the back of her belt to pull her back. But she leans over even further, trusting him to hold her.

"Almost... there, got it." She breaks off a blue blossom and carefully holds it in her hand as Fenris pulls her back up. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Hawke strolls over to them and looks at the flower. "It is. Harlot's Blush, isn't it?"

"That's the shem name, we call it Da'Ghilan." Merrill holds it out to Fenris. "Do you know what it is called in Tevinter?"

Fenris shakes his head. It's meant less for an answer, even though Merrill and Hawke take it as that, but more to clear his head. For the last two days, he feels like his head is filled with fog, as if someone else has taken residence there and he is only watching himself from the outside. He had hoped that accompanying Merrill, Isabela and Hawke to the Wounded Coast would clear his head but it has only gotten worse.

He hasn't spoken all morning, except for saying 'yes' when Hawke had asked him to come along. He knows he's acting strange and that she's watching him with increasing worry but he can't help it.

Ever since his breakdown in Anders' and Hawke's arms, after Anders had done the magical maintenance on his lyrium brands, the three of them have slept in Hawke's bed every night and he has woken up with Anders' arm wrapped around him and his nose buried in Hawke's neck on most mornings. It's a peaceful truce between them that he has not believed to be possible.

They haven't spoken about it, what it means and if it will lead to more but it has become a fragile little ritual. Every night, the three of them eat dinner together and then retreat to the library to read. Anders is always too restless and goes back into the basement to check his patients and at some point at night, Hawke and Fenris drag him back upstairs, make him clean himself, sometimes even bathe him together if he's too exhausted to do it himself. Fenris got him an orlesian toothbrush and it's one of the funniest things for Fenris to watch Marian and Anders struggle to brush their teeth with the unfamiliar tools. And then the three of them climb into bed together and quickly fall asleep as if they have done this forever.

He has no reference if this is a normal development for their fragile mutual acceptance and friendship but several crude remarks from Isabela has him suspect that it probably isn't. But he has never felt this safe in his life before.

But yesterday, something changed. He didn't notice it at first but as the day went on, he felt like his senses were getting muffled. He couldn't focus on his lessons, he didn't hear when Hawke spoke to him, he didn't feel anything when a child cried right next to him at the market. Anders checked him for any illnesses and that he didn't object to that, worried Hawke and Anders even more.

"Fenris!"

She has called him several times but only now, that she stands right next to him, does he register her calling his name.

"Didn't you hear me? Are you all right?"

"Fine." His mouth feels sticky, his tongue seems to be unwilling to form words.

"What's the matter with him?" Isabela asks.

"I don't know..."

The conversation goes on but Fenris doesn't listen. It was wrong to go out here into the wilderness, he needs to go back. The fog in his mind hums, pushes, pulls at his body, his own self, back to Kirkwall.

Go back, go back, come here, come.

Come.

Somewhere Hawke calls his name but he keeps walking. It's not far, the city gates are just behind this hill, he can almost see them in the distance, can almost smell the grimy waters and the wet metal of the chains that still seem to anchor the port to the cliffs. He can almost hear the faint creaking of the chains over the muffled call in his mind.

An arrow hits his chest piece, too weak to pierce it but enough to wake him from his dreamlike state. He has run straight into a group of bandits. So urgent was the call back to the city, that he hasn't noticed that he stumbled into their camp. Behind him, Hawke yells loudly, drawing attention away from him to give him room to fight. Isabela and her are quickly at his side, slightly out of breath and Merrill makes the ground shake under the bandit's feet.

It's a harsh fight, the bandits are well equipped and it would have stood well for Hawke and her small group to prepare for this fight. But because he just ran into the camp, they are now at a disadvantage. They have no cover, except for the ice walls that Merrill and Hawke raise up in front of them.

Hawke cries out, a sword not quickly enough deflected and her shirt arm turns crimson. Fenris forgets the hum in his mind, screaming anger and fear take over as he cuts through the bandits, ripping out the heart of one who is too close to Hawke. Isabela whips in and out of his vision, protecting their backs and watching out for Merrill.

At last, the remaining men and women run, preferring life over death and Fenris can finally take a breath. Hawke examines the cut in her upper arm, her finger glowing with a spell that has the blood well out to clean the wound and then dry up to stop the bleeding. She glances at Fenris, her brows furrowed but she doesn't say a word. She doesn't need to, he knows that this could have gone much worse and that it would have been his fault.

"Talk to me, Fenris," she says after a while. Isabela is whispering with Merrill, supposedly checking her for injuries but it rather looks like they're kissing. Among the dead bandits, Fenris and Hawke are alone. She watches him and he knows what she's thinking. He almost got them killed with his carelessness.

"I'm sorry." His throat feels rough like tree bark. "I felt... I had to go back."

"Back to Kirkwall? Why?"

"I don't know."

"Then we go back. Maybe something happened." She waves to Isabela and Merrill and gives Fenris a nod. "You ever had a hunch before?"

"A hunch?"

"The feeling that something happened and you have to be there. When mother..." she turns away so that he can't see her face, "I knew something bad had happened."

"I don't know if it is bad but I have to go back." He wants to ask if a hunch is like the hum in his head that pulls at him, drowning all other thoughts. But Hawke's face is an empty mask, her thoughts lost somewhere where he can't follow.

The march back to Kirkwall is silent but the hum in his mind gets sharper with every step. At the city gate, a young boy runs to him and hands him a letter.

He deciphers the few words and hands the letter to Hawke, who grabs it impatiently. "You sister is already here?" she says as she reads, so much easier and faster than him.

"The Hanged Man. I have to go there right now." He looks at Hawke but he doesn't know what to say. He has to go, he has to, he can't wait.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"I don't know."

Hawke looks at him with a worried frown and she's not the only one. He has never seen Merrill look so anxious.

"Hey," Isabela says and links her arm with Merrill's, "might as well have a beer first, before we wash, it's not like anybody in the Hanged Man will notice."

They follow him, talking to each other as he hurries forward. He's almost there and a feeling of happy expectation spreads in his chest. A sister, he has a sister and she wants to see him. No wonder he had to go back, he must have sensed her being close, his own blood.

The door to the bar opens with a familiar creak and Fenris blinks against the darkness inside. The room is mostly empty, not unusual at this time of the day. A few permanent guests sit at the bar and a few drinkers hang around the fire but one person towards the back draws his attention. An elf, a woman with red hair.

She looks familiar but it's not quite the spark of recognition that he had hoped for. Through the hum that muffles his head a memory rises up, an image blinking through the fog.

"I remember you, we played in the master's courtyard while mother worked. You called me — "

"Leto." The elf stands up, her hair glowing like fire in the light that fights through the dusty windows.

Fenris makes his way towards her and stops, the table between them. "Leto?"

"That's your name. I'm Varania, your sister. I know the master gave you a new name but when we were little, you were called Leto."

"Leto." He tries the name, feels the sound in his mouth but no memory comes. Nothing connects him to this little boy his sister remembers. Still the hum drones on.

"Varania, I — " The drone pitches to a shrill whine and then stops. A cold dread washes over him when he realizes where it came from, who has actually called him here.

Danarius saunters down the steps, flanked by six guards. His self satisfied smile is the answer to every question Fenris has.

"Ah, my dear Fenris, I was waiting for you."

He called him here. Some magic, some kind of spell made him come here.

"I'm sorry, Leto, I'm sorry it came to this."

"You led him here." His sister, his one chance at a real family, betrayed him. The anger floods him burning hot and it helps him to keep himself upright.

"Now now, Fenris, don't blame your sister. You know, I would have found you anyway, you would have come to me."

His voice. HIS voice.

Fenris' knees want to buckle, a weight on his shoulders pressing him down. He should kneel for his master, he should beg for his forgiveness.

"No!" He lets the anger fill him, to give him the strength to withstand the draw from his old master. "I never wanted these markings but I won't let you kill me to get them back."

Danarius chuckles. "Oh my little pet, don't you understand? Why would I kill you when I can make you serve me again?"

"That's not gonna happen," Hawke says loudly and positions herself at Fenris side. He turns to her, he had forgotten that she is even here. She has her sword drawn, ready to fight for him. Behind her, Isabela twirls her daggers and Merrill's hand glows with a spell waiting to fire.

"Is this your new master then?" Danarius says with a smile. "The Champion of all of Kirkwall, I heard, very impressive."

"Fenris isn't anyone's slave," Hawke snarls at him.

"Do I detect a note of jealousy? The lad is rather skilled, isn't he."

Hawke lifts her sword. "You filthy piece of — "

"Shut your mouth, Danarius!" Fenris' markings light up and he pulls out his sword.

"The word is master," Danarius says calmly and then raises his arms. The guards next to him hold out their uncovered arms and with two small knives, he cuts cleanly up their arms. Many similar scars mark those arms and if the guards flinch, it is hidden under their helmets. Danarius draws the blood from the cuts out into a spinning vortex before Fenris can reach him and he crashes against it as if it is a solid wall.

He sees Danarius calmly walking away and up the stairs but he can't follow him. Demons step out of the blood vortex and the guards attack them at the same time. He strikes them as hard as he can but when he has cut down one, another slithers out of the blood vortex. Half of the guards fall to Isabela's and Hawke's attacks before the rest retreat to protect their master and Merrill counters the bloodmagic with her own but it takes them too long. The demons are relentless and only when Merrill finally breaks the blood spell can they clear the room of abominations.

But Danarius still stands at the top of the stairs, unperturbed by the massacre in front of him. Fenris screams and runs towards him, his lyrium markings making him inhumanly fast. Danarius deflects his attack, pushes him back with a burning spell and grins.

"My little Fenris, there is no need for this."

Fenris grits his teeth against the pain of his markings. Danarius always knew how to use the markings to his advantage, how to channel pain directly through them. It burns, searing like liquid iron flowing under his skin. "You... coward!" he yells out as his knees threaten to give out under him.

Another spell hits him, this one cooling and chasing the burning magic out. He turns and sees Merrill, her face drawn tight in concentration and her staff pointed at him, countering Danarius magic. Hawke runs to him and grabs his arm, pulling him up. She just looks at him, giving him a small nod and he nods in answer. He draws a new breath and attacks again.

Hawke is at his side, her sword a light that cuts through the spells Danarius throws at them. Isabela keeps the guards busy, her knives dancing as they hunt her. For a moment it looks like they're winning but only a mage can defeat a mage.

And Danarius is a powerful mage, a magister. Hawke may have magic but she is untrained and no match against a magister. When her sword shatters against the ice he throws at her, she manages to conjure a fireball but Danarius deflects it with a mocking smile.

Anders could probably hold against Danarius but Anders isn't here. And Merrill is exhausted, her arms already bleeding too much. She falls, not from a strike of magic but from a strike to her head, in the second that her rock armor spell runs out. She looks at Fenris, her mouth open in an expression that is almost comical and sinks to the ground.

Isabela appears out of the shadows, burying her knife in the guard's back but it's too late. As the man sinks to the ground, an electric spell from Danarius hits her in the chest. She curses and fights but her muscles twitch and shake and she can't help but fall to her knees.

Hawke cries out. Fenris spins around and he sees her burn. Danarius has thrown a fireball, a massive ball of energy that eats away at her armor and burns her skin underneath. She claws at it, falling face first to the ground.

And Fenris drops his sword. He knows they have lost. If he doesn't go back to Danarius now, he will kill all of them. There is nothing he can do.

He steps over to Danarius, his head hanging low. "Master," he says, not looking at him.

"Ah, my dear Fenris, I see you've come to your senses," the Master says and puts a finger under his chin to raise his head. Fenris closes his eyes.

"Are you ready to leave, my little wolf?"

The voice grates like sand under his skin. He swallows against the bile rising in his throat. "Yes, Master, there's no need to kill them."

"That is not for you to decide, my pet."

It's a testament to Hawke's and her friends' persistence that Danarius seems to be too tired to make a killing curse. He calls for his men and sighs annoyed when only one is still alive and turns to leave. "Come, little Fenris, we have a long way ahead of us."

"No, Fenris!" Hawke calls after him, struggling to get up. The fire still licks at her skin.

"I'm sorry, Hawke, I..."

"Don't worry, dear champion, he won't remember any of this," Danarius says cheerfully, drawing a spell with his hands. The magic thrums through his hand so powerful that Fenris can feel it in his markings. A blue glowing net flows from the magister's hand, a net made of pure force and magic. It covers the women on the ground, pressing them down and muffling any sounds they make. Fenris knows this spell, he knows what it does. Danarius needs no killing curse because under the barrier they will soon run out of air to breathe.

Only a strong mage can destroy this spell. Merrill is still unconscious.

His feet walk, following his master as they should. His head is low, as it is expected of a slave but his eyes betray him. They hang on Hawke, her face contorted in a scream he can not hear. The guard pushes him forward through the door and his feet obey as they should.

Outside people are watching them and he sees Varric and Anders. Varric draws his crossbow and Anders' staff begins to glow but he shakes his head and frantically points with it towards the door of the Hanged Man. Varric and Anders look confused but they turn away and run into the tavern. Fenris can only hope that Anders can lift the spell and save Hawke, Isabela and Merrill. He will never know.

Danarius will make him lose his memory and he welcomes it. He will not remember Hawke and her touch and her voice. He won't remember what it means to make choices for himself. He will be a slave again, living for his master alone, pleasing him, without the wish of love and understanding burning within him.