Warning: descriptions of blood, bloodmagic, torture, and mind control. This is not a hopeful chapter.


"Wake up, Fenris."

The soft pillow under his cheek smells of a foreign perfume. He tries to move but his hands are bound behind his back and his shoulders hurt. He tries to phase out of the bonds but he can't grasp his power. The markings that he hates so much, now they fail him and stay cold.

Pain explodes on his back as a whip bites a hot trail into his skin and he screams.

"Too slow. You've lost all your manners, slave."

Fenris struggles to quickly sits up on his knees without the help from his hands. He keeps his head bowed and stares at the expensive stitching on Danarius' shoes without really seeing it, blinking against the tears that threaten to fill his eyes. The pain in his skin is nothing compared to the emptiness in his chest.

"At least you remembered something from your education." Danarius steps away. Fenris turns his head enough to see him open a travel trunk. As he bends over it, a tiny glass vial hanging on a golden chain around Danarius' neck falls forward and swings slowly back and forth. A beam of sunlight peeks through a gap in the tent's door, hitting the vial and it lights up like a red crystal. It's Fenris' blood in that vial.

He remembers now. Three men held him down and another pressed a sweet smelling cloth against his face. He fought it, held his breath as long as he could, but at last, his body's will to live overpowered his mind. The fumes caused his muscles to relax and his mind to sink into a pillowy dream. As consciousness slipped from his grasp, he saw Danarius push a hollow needle into a vein on his arm.

He looks at his arm now, a spot of dried blood in the middle of a bruise is the evidence of that assault. He looks back to the vial swinging in the light. His blood, his essence is in there and whatever Danarius needs it for, it won't be good.

Danarius notices him watching before Fenris can turn his eyes away and smiles. "It's beautiful, isn't it? And you don't even know what power it contains. I had to use up everything I had to find you, this will not happen again. I have several vials now so don't even think you can escape again, slave."

Like a roar, the anger rises up in him, his wild wolf awaking. "Not your slave."

The whip hits him before he can even see it. "How cute." Danarius shakes his head with a bored expression. He keeps whipping him, his back, his arms, his tied hands, until Fenris's entire back feels like living fire.

He holds against the pain as long as he can but Danarius is relentless, the whip biting into his skin again and again like blazing iron until a whimper escapes between his pressed lips.

Danarius let's the whip sink and steps closer to him. "Aww, my poor Fenris, look at what you did."

Fenris presses his lips and teeth together until his jaw hurts.

"You're bleeding all over my bedding, slave."

Fenris can't say anything because if he opens his mouth, he's going to scream. His body is made of pain.

"Well, I would be a very bad master if I kept my slave in such a state," Danarius sing songs and turns to an open trunk with various bottles and vials of powders and liquids. "I'll make you a good healing potion, so that you can walk and fight for me."

"Never," he presses out between clenched teeth.

"Don't be silly." Bottles clink as Danarius stirs various potions together in a bowl, adding a drop of a viscous dark substance from a black bottle. His hand moves in a ritual pattern, magic glowing and sinking into the bowl like colorful dust. He swings the bottle in a slow circle. The liquid inside follows the movement slowly, it clings to the glass walls of the bottle. Regular health potion has a different consistency.

"Drink up, little pet, it's good for you."

"No." He whips his head away before the edge of the bottle touches his lip.

Danarius sighs. "This is getting rather annoying." He claps his hands and immediately four men enter the tent. Three are broad shouldered men, probably the same that held him down last night. The fourth is a slim elf, a slave, who falls to his knees in front of Danarius with his head lowered and waits for his orders.

Danarius sets the bottle back on his table and picks up the whip. But instead of turning to Fenris, he strikes the slave without warning.

The young man cries out. "Master, I'm sorry!"

"Quiet." He hits him again. Already the marks from the whip are bleeding. Danarius sets the whip aside and turns to Fenris. "Do you remember what I can do?"

Fenris closes his eyes but the screams from the slave have him look again. The elf convulses on the ground as the blood from his wounds floats around him like mist. More blood joins the mist, every bit of his skin is seeping out blood, his eyes are bulging out as blood drips from them.

This is a bitter memory. It's not the first time that Danarius has punished someone else for him, he used to do it all the time and Fenris never really cared. The other elves were not his friends, they were slaves, they had no other purpose but he was the prized possession of his master. They hated him for that privilege, for being loved by the master. And he didn't care.

But now he cares. In finding freedom for himself, he also found compassion for others. It's Hawke's influence, how she fights to help people, caring for everyone — of course it would rub off on him. He cannot pretend anymore that the suffering of the other doesn't concern him.

The blood mist rises up from the elf and at the same time, Danarius pulls blood from Fenris' wounds. The mist forms a column, slowly spinning in front of Danarius and his eyes light up in amusement. "Do you see, my little wolf? This will help you find your way again."

"Please stop." The words taste bitter on his tongue.

"Already?" Danarius twists his hand and the elf on the floor convulses with a scream. "I used to have to do this so much longer." Another flick of his wrist and the man cries out as bones crack and more blood floats out of his wounds.

Fenris scuffles closer to Danarius on his knees, keeping his head bowed. "Please stop, Master."

"Have you gotten soft, my pet?"

Yes, he has. Hawke has gotten to him, has taught him compassion and now he is too soft, too weak. Now he feels sorry for the other slave and that will be his downfall.

"Well, well." Danarius looks at Fenris as he holds his hand into the column of blood mist, and then clenches it. The elf screams as he seems to get crushed in an invisible fist and then his spine cracks and the screaming stops.

One of the guards grabs the mangled corpse by a foot and drags him out of the tent. The column of blood mist still spins slowly over Danarius' palm. He smiles at Fenris with a vicious grin and takes a vial of blood from the table. The stopper springs out of the vial and the blood floats up into the spinning column, glittering with strange little flecks in it.

Danarius watches it, his hand twisting around the column of floating blood, glowing in green and red. "You know, my little wolf, I had a lot of time to work on this spell on my travels here. I perfected it and now, with your own blood added to it, it will be quite the revelation for you." The column moves closer to Fenris, guided by Danarius' hands.

"You will love me again, my pet."

Fenris dares to look up and clenches his bound fists. "Never."

"Yes, you will."

"It won't be real."

Danarius forms the blood mist into a spinning ball on the palm of his hand and smiles as he watches Fenris through it. "How would you know? If you feel like you love me, if you defend me, fight for me, how could you ever tell?"

Fenris' throat closes up. "It's not real."

"You won't know, my pet," Danarius says with a biting smile and throws the mist onto him like a living blanket.

The blood mist engulfs him, floats into his open wounds, seeps into every pore and he can't resist. Dust covers his mind, muffling the wolf. He could never resist and he can't resist now.

Why would he? Master knows him, Master loves him.

Somewhere inside him the wolf cries.

"Drink your potion, pet."

"Yes, Master."

The potion tastes sweet and it glides down his throat like oil. His wounds close, the ache in his joints softens and not even his bound hands hurt anymore. He takes a deep breath and straightens his back, just like Master prefers it.

"Come here."

"Yes, Master."

Master has sat down on a chair and holds his hand out. The pet hurries to shuffle over to him on his knees and places his lips on the offered hand, just barely touching it. The hand smells of sweet... no... it smells of rot and greed and bitterness and —

Master strokes his hair. Master gives love. Master smells of flowers.

The pet leans into the touch.

The wolf cries.

"Let me get your hands free, you're being good, aren't you?"

"Yes, Master."

The shackles fall away but the pet keeps his hands on his back. He knows how to behave, he has learned this all his life.

"Give me your hands."

He holds his hands out front, careful not to show how his shoulders hurt as he moves his arms. The Master hovers his hands over the wrists and up his arms, golden light making the pain go away.

"Do you feel better now, pet?"

He bows deep, his forehead touching the master's shoe. "Yes, Master, thank you."

"Look at me." The Master's voice is gentle and he waits for his pet to raise his head. "You will listen now." The Master's eyes glow. "Your name is Fenris, I am your master Danarius, you are my slave. Repeat."

"My name is Fenris, you are my master Danarius, I am... I am..." No. No, wrong words!

"Fenris?" Danarius grabs his chin and glares at him. "Say it."

The wolf speaks. "No... slave..."

"Kaffas." Danarius reaches over the potions table, grabbing the black bottle and uncorks it. His hands begin to glow and warmth spreads all over Fenris' body. It's getting hard to keep his eyes open and his head lolls backwards, too heavy to hold up. Cool glass gets pressed between his lips and when he opens his mouth, thick oil coats his tongue.

A metallic taste fills his mouth. The warmth disappears, the dust blows away, and his thoughts are clear and solid. He looks up, waiting for his master to speak.

"What is your name?"

"My name is Fenris."

The master smiles so gently at him. "And who am I?"

"You are Danarius, my master. I am your slave."

"I'm pleased to hear that." The master strokes over Fenris' head. "My beloved slave. You have cost me a lot today, Fenris. You have a lot to make up for."

He doesn't know what the master means. His head hurts when he tries to remember. There are faces, they look at him, someone held him, they smelled good, they...

"Help me put this away now." Danarius gestures to the potions table.

The trunk next to the table has cushioned boxes inside for the various bottles and jars. Fenris shuffles over to it and carefully stores the containers in the trunk. He makes sure that all the stoppers and lids are secured and nothing sticks to the outside. Health potions glow softly in red, lyrium potions glow in blue and other potions and powders glitter and gleam in green and yellow. At last the black bottle is in his hand and he turns it over. He looks at the label and the words form in his mind.

Reger Cogitar — Erus.

This is wrong. A slave doesn't read.

"What are you staring at? Put it in the trunk and close it."

"Yes, Master."

The trunk clicks closed and Fenris sits back on his heels. The leather covering of the trunk is decorated with Danarius' family crest surrounded by an inscription. The words enter his mind, unwilling, he can't stop reading them. This is wrong.

Danarius lies down on his bed, adjusting a soft pillow under his head. "Come here, pet."

Fenris kneels down beside the foldable bed. He hasn't stood on his feet since... he can't remember. He kneels for his master, always.

Danarius gestures to the guards by the door and they approach Fenris with a metal contraption of two bend bars that lock around his waist and press his arms to his sides. The metal feels cold and it smells familiar, of magebane and metal. He can almost taste it in his mouth.

"This is just a precaution, your mind is not quite settled yet," Danarius says and dismisses the guards with a wave of his hand. "I'm very tired and I don't need to worry about you murdering me in my sleep."

The Master pulls a blanket over himself. He looks at Fenris from the corner of his eyes and then pats a space next to him. "You may lay your head down here."

Fenris leans against the frame of the bed and lays his head on the blanket. He can smell the Master, the Master smells so good. It almost makes him forget the metallic taste in his mouth.

"Tomorrow, when I have rested, I'll make you another potion and settle your mind once and for all. You'll be happy then."

How good that will be. The wolf will be happy. The wolf will forget.

"Thank you, Master."

Danarius holds a small vial to his lips. "Drink this."

It's another metallic taste on his tongue and then darkness comes.

The wolf sleeps. The wolf will forget.