Violet is hurrying up a dirt road in Lothering. She's late for service again, and her mother is going to be furious. She dashes up the steps only to find a strange man blocking the Chantry doors. His armor is all wrong for a Templar, bands of steel that almost look like scales.
"I cannot let you in," he says. "You aren't one of the faithful."
"I know the Chant," she insists, "my family has been coming here for months. They're inside, I just…"
"No," says the man implacably. "Only the faithful may enter."
She is late, and frustrated, and her mother is going to lecture her for hours because this self-satisfied jerk of a Templar has nothing better to do than to mess with her. Her anger at the injustice of it is fills her as she pulls out a staff and casts the fear spell.
He waves a hand, and the spell dissipates into the air. Violet is surprised when he smiles. Shouldn't he be angry? "It appears I was mistaken." He steps aside. "Please, go in."
Through the doors is not the Lothering chapel, but the white marble monstrosity of Kirkwall. She hurries toward the main altar, past the people murmuring in respectful tones. On the elevated platform before the giant statue of Andraste is Sebastian. Next to him, Fenris stands in Elthina's place. He is scowling in anger, and Sebastian's eyes are full of disappointment.
Sebastian never did like her use of the fear spell. She wants to explain — it's okay, it's only a dream. It isn't right to shout in the Chantry though, so she heads to the stairs. She can fix this. Only… the stairs are no longer there. As she circles the platform, it seems to grow taller, a forest of thick red candles giving off waves of heat and smoke that keep her from the walls.
I can help, a voice behind her purrs. I'll get them back for you, if you just agree to do a tiny little thing for me.
Violet turns. A beautiful woman stands behind her, with very little covering her delicate lavender skin.
"No," says Violet.
Don't be so hasty, little Hawke. The desire demon smiles. I promise you'll enjoy it. Let me taste your desire. It burned so brightly today. We felt it, even here.
Violet takes a step back. She looks at the tower where her friends are imprisoned, then back to the demon. There is a shimmering and the demon begins to change, round curves slimming and lengthening to lean muscle. Her hair changes, moving and sliding until it is a silver fringe hanging just over her eyes. Dark skin crossed with lines of lyrium, wearing no more than — Violet tries not to look, but she can't help it.
I do like this body, the demon croons in a voice that not her own. Long fingered hands caress his chest, his — Violet swallows. Though if you prefer the other, I can do that too. The lecherous smile that cosses her lips is entirely wrong for Fenris' face. Or both, if that is what you desire.
Violet can't breathe. Can't tear her eyes away.
It has been a long time since she's tangled with a desire demon. She has underestimated it.
Violet can't summon the will to attack, so she turns and runs. When did the building grow so large? The walls stretch up to infinity, the doors seem miles away. A teasing rumble of laughter follows behind her. Gasping for breath, Violet pushes herself to go faster.
The armored man from before stands on the inside now. He gestures, and shades rise up around him. Violet finds her staff at last and calls lightning down to strike him. He laughs, a terrible deep rumble that she feels reverberate in her chest. She has a moment to think she knows that sound, has heard it before, before he too begins to shift and change, growing, spiky and enormous, his body filling the entryway. A pride demon.
Strong hands come from behind her to slide across her hips.
Wouldn't you prefer the easy way? Not-Fenris holds her tight.
"No!" snaps Violet. The demon's hands turn to claws, shredding her abdomen. The room goes red.
Fenris couldn't sleep.
He told himself it was the house. It had been spirit-haunted even after Varric's brother lived here and the red lyrium idol had cast its madness. How long might those echoes linger? He lay still and tense, listening as the building creaked around him, and imagined he heard doors open and close down the hallway. The doors especially preyed on his mind. Who knew who might be coming or going, causing what sort of trouble?
Except that was a lie. He knew exactly who it was, and spirits had nothing to do with it.
He had surprised Sebastian in the hall unexpectedly that afternoon. He'd flashed Fenris a rather wild smile and moved past without speaking. That he did not want to talk seemed strange; but that was not the only thing. His hair had been tousled and his shirt untucked. As Fenris watched him retreat, he thought he saw a scratch mark running up the back of Sebastian's neck. A trick of the light, perhaps. Fenris had quickly turned and continued on, though when he reached his bedroom he found he had no recollection of why he had been going there.
But it was pointless to think about what might have happened. Also pointless was lying in bed awake. Fenris rose and dressed, taking care to think only of what was in front of him. Leggings. Jacket. Gauntlets. He found himself sliding his scabbard onto his back and paused. Surely there was no need for a sword. With a shrug, he buckled it on anyway. He was more comfortable with it on his back.
But where should he go? Their confinement to the house chafed. He accepted Varric's reasons; still the restriction was a weight that pressed on him and made him restless. What was there to do? He supposed… Varric had teased him yesterday about preparing the cellar for his visit. Perhaps he could go see what wine the dwarf had purchased. It was a reasonable destination. Now that he thought of it, he could use a drink.
He exited the bedroom and stood a moment in the dark hallway. All seemed quiet, though there was a flicker of firelight coming from the great room. Perhaps he should investigate.
Violet was curled up before the fire, in an armchair pulled so close to the hearth it stood in danger of getting singed. She stared into the flames, her arms around her knees. Only the tips of her toes peeked out from under the hem of her long, threadbare nightgown. Fenris felt his chest tighten. That she was awake at this hour was no good sign. What little sleep he'd had in this house had been troubled, though he had no memory of what the Fade had shown him. He was glad of that, as he always was. But Violet's dreams were different. And Kirkwall made them worse.
She was sitting alone. He had not expected that, and it made him... but he shook off the thought. She had not yet seen him; he could go a different way. But somehow his feet carried him forward until he was standing in the firelight next to her.
She was too tired to look surprised when she saw him. Or perhaps she had expected him. It was hard to tell.
"You're awake early," she said. "Or is it late?"
He shrugged. Her eyes were red.
"You are alone?" he asked in spite of himself.
She did not mock him for it, only nodded again. Her fingers pulled at the edge of her sleeve. "Fenris, I... something happened." She seemed unsure how to continue. The uncertainty — there was only one subject that would make her so anxious.
"With Sebastian," he said quietly. "I had surmised as much."
She looked at him with troubled eyes.
He gazed past her, into the empty room. "It does not 'bother' me, if that is what concerns you."
She reached forward and took his hand. He shuddered but allowed it. The magic in her blood called to the lyrium in his skin, kindling it to life and making it sing. He struggled to quiet it. Under the call of his markings the blood pounded in his ears. His fingers tightened on hers and she returned the pressure.
"Fenris?"
With an effort he looked at her face.
"I wish..."
"I also." He pulled his hand free. "But I cannot..." What was caught in his throat? He cleared it. "It is for the best. I should go."
The cellar door had a bar across it. He had forgotten. What if he went down there and were locked out by mistake? Venhedis. He would deal with it when it happened. He pushed the bar aside, opened the door and strode down the stairs.
He turned in a random direction and walked by shelves of bottles without seeing them. He circled the perimeter of the wine cellar twice, then stopped. He had the impulse to smash something, but he pressed his forehead to the cool stone of the wall instead. The blood pounded in his veins. They lyrium throbbed under his skin where Violet had touched him.
He thought about that night, years ago. Over and over she had proven that she was different, and he'd thought perhaps… Perhaps they could make one another happy. He had let go and lost himself in it, in her, the singing of the lyrium under his skin rising to a shriek under the magic in her hands, pulling them together until he didn't know where he ended and she began.
It had been too much. When his senses were filled with her, he lost himself. It was only a step from there back to the life he'd fled. It was not her fault; it was his.
No. It was the fault of Danarius. Of the magisters whose blood magic kept slaves bound before them. His body could not forget, could not submit itself to her without going back there, trapped, made willing against his will. He knew it was not the same. It was entirely different. But still he could not forget.
He had left her with only the barest of excuses. In time, she'd stopped waiting for him to return. She'd moved on in a hundred little ways, and he had told himself he was glad. He too had experimented; not everyone affected him so. He did not know if it was only Violet's magic or the strength of what was between them that made it impossible. But he couldn't afford to lose himself, not when he'd risked everything to find freedom and a life of his own.
He loved her. He could not help that. But he had to stay alone. They needed space between them for him to stay grounded.
He should be glad she and Sebastian had come together. For years he had said no. She had listened, but the door had always been open. Now the door would close. It should close. He would be truly free.
Fenris pushed himself off the wall and drew his sword. Wine would not be enough tonight. He needed blood. He moved quickly towards the trap door to Darktown.