Author's note: This took a bit longer to write than expected. But here it is! Thank you all for your continued support and patience! Enjoy!


SERENA

Something's wrong.

I don't know what it is, but the hair won't stop standing up on the back of my neck.

And based off of Zevran's quiet intensity as well, I'm not the only one thinking so.

Our group approaches the red-headed, elven woman, seated at a table at the center of the Hanged Man. Her hair's pulled up into a neat bun, the bright strands serving as a stark contrast to her pale skin and dark eye and lip makeup. She looks over at us with her stunningly clear green eyes that match Fenris's, just as I notice the only other bar patron scurry out the door, as if he's seen a ghost.

"It really is you," the woman says, then stares back down at her table.

Fenris halts. "Varania? I . . . I remember you. We played in our master's courtyard, while Mother worked. You called me . . ."

"Leto." She rises from her seat. "That's your name."

She glances over at the stairs, her posture unnaturally stiff, expectant.

"What's wrong?" Fenris quirks an eyebrow at her. "Why are you so . . . ?"

I hear a group of heavy footsteps move in the hallway upstairs. Ones that can only be made when wearing a heavy set of weapons and armor.

"Fenris, we have to get out of here!" I warn him, grabbing onto his arm.

Fenris squints down at me.

A man with a thick, grey beard, silver eyes, and an elegant red, white, and grey robe descends the stairs with three armored men in tow. "Ah, my little Fenris," he calls out to us with fake, lilted charm. "Predictable as always."

My gut sinks into my stomach.

Fenris's expression falls.

"I'm sorry it came to this, Leto," Varania whispers, her head hanging low.

Fenris stomps over to glare at her. "You led him here," he snarls.

"Now, now, Fenris. Don't blame your sister." The intruder stops beside a shrinking Varania. "She did what any good Imperial citizen should."

"I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius!" Fenris snaps and waves his arms out in front of him. "But I won't let you kill me to get them!"

Danarius laughs, deep and low. "Oh, how little you know, my pet." He looks over at Hawke and I.

We've both moved closer to Fenris's sides, our weapons now drawn and at the ready. All he or Fenris has to do is say the word, give the signal. Or wait for our already thinning patience to run out. Whichever comes first.

"And this is your new master and mistress, then? The Champion of Kirkwall and Hero of Ferelden? Impressive. And quite lovely." He smiles appreciatively at the two of us, and my insides churn under his regarding gaze.

"Fenris doesn't belong to anyone!" Hawke scowls at him. The unrestrained malice in his voice unlike him. But oh-so needed.

"Do I detect a note of jealousy?" Danarius teases, tilting his staff. "It's not surprising. The lad is rather skilled, isn't he?"

Rage boils up inside of me at his suggestive tone and connotation.

I want to rip his throat out.

To make him suffer, as I know he made Fenris suffer.

But I know even doing that, I won't be satisfied.

"Shut your mouth, Danarius!" Fenris shouts, his markings glowing bright blue.

Danarius sighs. "The word is master," he sneers, and Varania steps back, retreating far behind the magister's men, against the nearby wall.

The men raise their swords.

And just like that, Fenris and the rest of our group leaps forward. Drawn into unavoidable battle once again.


"You are no longer my master," Fenris growls, lifting Danarius up with one phased hand, over his head. He then rips the magister's chest cavity open. Spurts of blood flying everywhere.

Danarius broken body falls with a groan among his other fallen conscripts. Bleeding out. Lifeless. The death well deserved. Yet still not good enough for him.

Fenris then pivots toward Varania, who lifts her hands up in front of her in surrender.

"I had no choice, Leto," Varania cowers, glimpsing up at him.

"Stop calling me that," he snarls, closing in on her.

"He was going to make me his apprentice. I would've become a magister!"

"You sold out your own brother to become a magister?" Fenris gibes.

Definitely not the right argument to use, all things considered.

But Varania stands up taller now, glaring down her brother, her eyes filling with scornful determination. "You have no idea what we went through! What I've had to do since Mother died!" she says. "This was my only chance!"

"And now you have no chance at all." Fenris's markings glows blue, stepping closer once again.

Varania stumbles back with her arms raised up. "Please . . . don't do this," she pleads. "Please tell him to stop!" She glances over at us.

"Wait! Don't kill her," Hawke calls out, daring to get nearer.

"Why not?" Fenris whips around at us, looking feral, ready to pounce. "She was ready to see me killed. What is she to me other than just one more tool of the magisters?"

He glares back at Varania, and I can see it. The hurt. The pain. In his voice. His gaze. His form.

He's ready to do it.

Eager, too.

But as much as I want him to get it all out, to make her pay, just like he did the rest of them . . . This isn't the way. And I know it, too.

"This is your family, Fenris," I join Hawke at his side, the words barely escaping out, catching on the disgusting lump building in my throat, just thinking of all their horrid transgressions against him. And now this one, too.

Fenris pauses, avoiding looking at either of us, then whirls around to glower at Varania again. "Get out," he barks.

Varania doesn't waste a second. She sprints toward the exit, but stops short after passing Zevran, who's still observing the rest of us from a few feet back. "You said you didn't ask for this, but that's not true," she directs at Fenris, who has yet to move from his spot. "You wanted it. You competed for it. When you won, you used the boon to have Mother and I freed."

". . . Why are you telling me this?" Fenris looks back at her, his voice and expression now stricken, showing his pain.

"Freedom was no boon," Varania insists. "I look on you now, and I think you received the better end of the bargain."

With an indignant scowl, she retreats out of the tavern.

It takes everything I have to not run after her. To demand she apologize. Fenris deserves no less, after what she put him through.

But then I notice Fenris turn away from us again, lowering his head and posture, in what I can only guess is hunched defeat.

"I thought discovering my past would bring a sense of belonging, but I was wrong," he mutters, shaking his head. "Magic has tainted that, too."

He pivots off to the side, looking now at the surrounding slaver corpses.

"There is nothing for me to reclaim. I am . . . alone."

My heart aches, hearing the despairing tone of his voice.

Before I realize it, I step closer, until I'm standing right in front of him, within arms reach.

"We're here, Fenris," I insist, gazing up at him in hurried desperation. Anything to help him ease this pain. This burden.

Fenris lifts his head and puts one gentle hand on my cheek, flashing me a sad yet grateful, affectionate smile. The softness to it is almost overwhelming. My heart throbs and flutters inside my chest. The emotion so intense it makes my very body and soul weak.

But before I can be swallowed by it, he turns away again. The gloom overcoming him.

"You heard what Varania said. I wanted these. I fought for them." He rolls his shoulders at the statement, the irritation in his voice spiking, like he's disgusted with the very idea. "I feel unclean . . . like this magic is not only etched into my skin, but has stained my soul."

He grasps at his bangs, covering his eyes, then stalks past us, moving toward the tavern's main exit.

"Let's go," he says, shaking his head. "I need to get out of here."


FENRIS

It was a trap.

Of course it was. How could I have been so foolish as to hope for otherwise?

But now, at least, I am free.

Hadriana is dead. Danarius is dead.

So why doesn't this victory feel like it should? Why does this freedom taste like ashes?

I debate such thoughts on my way back to the Hightown mansion.

Serena tails quietly behind me, serving as my sole escort through the deserted city streets—the others having opted to stay behind, to help clean up the mess we left back at the tavern.

This is not how I pictured how this night would end. But what else did I expect? What did I want?

I wanted her. I did this, in part, for her.

I thought if I didn't need to run and fight to stay alive, that if I reconnected with my family, my past, I would finally be able to live as a free man does. To become someone more worthy of her affections. But now what?

My sister is gone, and I have nothing. Not even an enemy.

And she is already another's.

I clench my fists to the point where the sharpened tips of my gauntlets pierce into my palm, drawing blood. The biting pain and warm liquid coating my skin, the only things keeping me from lashing out, from punching or kicking something in a destructive rage.

Craving solitude, and fast, I storm into the mansion as quick as I can, slamming the front door open with a wide sweep of my arm.

Serena shuts it softly behind me, and I halt inside the foyer.

"You do not have to stay. You are free to rejoin the others," I insist. Desperate for her to leave, before I say or do something more I might regret.

"It's fine. I want to be here," she says, her voice showing no hint of fear or any sign of backing off, despite my mounting outbursts.

"Why?" I growl out, at my wits end. The aches in my chest only becoming worse.

"Because," she whispers. "I . . ."

She trails off.

"Fenhedis, woman! Why? Why must you be here? Why not go to him?" I whirl towards her, stepping close until I'm towering over her shrinking form.

"Because . . . I care for you, too!" she shouts, standing her ground.

A blush blooms across her cheeks, and she gawps up at me in surprised silence.

I just stare down at her, lost in her wide, stun-struck eyes. The pain in my chest lightening, but the tightness still crushing enough to make it hard to breathe.

No, she does not mean what I think it means.

I must not make assumptions and let my emotions get the best of me.

And yet . . . why is she still looking at me like that?

Why must her words and actions tempt and deceive me so?

"You do not mean that," I persist, looking away.

My mind now fighting between reason and desire.

"Fenris, I . . ." she reaches out to me, and I catch her wrist, stopping her.

The feel of her cool skin on mine almost sends me hurtling over the edge.

I want to get closer to her.

To touch her.

To close this distance.

Doubts over her true feelings be damned.

But no . . . this isn't right. It's not right. I can't.

I stare down at her. Determined to send her away. To let the fear, that no doubt must be plastered on her expression now, fuel my resolve.

However, there is no fear when I look there. Only a mutual longing, teetering on a delicate edge.

It is too much to bear.

"Am I interrupting?" A familiar accented voice calls out from the nearby, darkened entranceway.

Serena and I both jolt and pull away from each other fast enough to get whiplash.

It's Zevran. He steps closer, out of the archway's bordering shadows, taking the two of us in with a knowing smirk, tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Oh, please don't stop on my account. I do so enjoy to watch." He wiggles his eyebrows playfully at us.

I gawk at him. Struck utterly speechless. Horrified.

"Zevran, I—"

"No need to explain, my dear Grey Warden," Zevran hushes her, putting a finger to his lips. "I figured it would one day come to this. So, I've come to offer a solution, if I may."

He glimpses over at me, giving off the same flirtatious charm he did the night Hawke and I first spoke together with him at the Hanged Man. The first of many where he continued to taunt me with something far beyond my grasp.

"What kind of solution?" Serena asks, narrowing a skeptical gaze at him.

"A simple one, really." He circles behind her. "I grant the two of you permission to indulge your desires, as you see fit. And in exchange, you allow me to observe the first round. Fair enough?"

"You want to . . . what?" Serena gasps. Her already reddened cheeks glow a shade darker.

"Very well," I agree, with no hesitation.

Serena whips her focus back onto me, as if she can't believe her ears.

But I am unwavering.

If she really wants this—if she really wants me, whatever this is between us—then I will take her any way I am allowed.

For one thing, I know for certain: nothing could be worse than continuing to live without her like this.

Her being a mage or warden no longer matter, so long as it's her. And if that means entering such a pact with Zevran, so be it.

It is not as though I hate the man, as I once had. We have much in common, in fact.

And although it will take some time to get used to idea of sharing her with another, perhaps such an arrangement would be for the best, with no conceptual strings holding us down?

"Excellent. I knew we could see eye to eye," Zevran beams. He then fixates on Serena again with the same cunning smirk. "Now, what say you, oh-magical-temptress?"

Serena gawks at both of us, her mouth constantly opening and closing in stunned disbelief. "I . . I . . . You're both serious?"

Zevran nods, and I step closer to her.

She stares up at me, her mouth still slightly parted, searching for truth.

I let my persistent gaze serve as my answer to her question. For no other words could assure her of my determination.

Serena clutches the necklace around her neck and gulps.

"Al-Alright," she whispers, and my heart soars. "If you're both cert—"

I dive forward, cutting her words off with a kiss.

All the years of suppressing that exact desire racing to the surface, hearing her permission.

With a forceful urging, I slip my tongue into her mouth, determined to taste the full of her, as quick as possible now. Serena moans against my lips in surrender, her wary hands timidly reaching out, hesitant to find holding at my chest. But to keep steady, she must. For I have no intention of letting up. Not now. Not any time soon.

For her touch. Her lips. Her hot, wispy breaths.

They are enough to drive a sane man mad. And I accept every delicious offer gratefully. Even as her gentle caresses travel downward, along my arms, lighting an intense fire within my brands.

But it is not a painful burning, no.

Not as I would expect.

It's a ravenous wildfire, just like the time three years ago, scorching far beneath the surface. Hungering for more. The final shackles on a starving beast. Eager to devour its fill. To ravage its prey.

Almost overcome by the mind-flaring sensation, it takes everything I have to pull away.

I gaze down at her. Breathless. Panting. Giving her one last chance to command me to go. For us to stop. Before I can never turn back.

She merely stares up at me, her beautiful, shimmering, teal eyes, stuck in a star-struck daze. Sparkling like brilliant sapphires in a storm.

"Ahem! If we are all of mind now, perhaps we should move this party upstairs?" Zevran suggests with an intentional clearing of his throat.

Serena snaps out of it and looks over at the watching Antivan.

However, the moment she does, I swoop her up into my arms.

She gasps as I position her at my waist, stroking one hand firmly up her back, burying it deep into the dark roots at her scalp.

Tugging the strands downwards, I claim her lips in another long, fiery kiss, all while moving us toward the stairs. Our tongues once again winding, weaving. Fighting for renewed dominance.

Her hesitance soon relents to the tide. Submitting to my persistent onslaught. Relaxing.

We reach the upstairs bedroom, and I hurry us over to the bed, anxious to seize my prize. I throw us carefully down upon the mattress, and Serena gasps on impact, breaking our kiss.

Our lips now free from each other, I shift focus onto her tempting neck, licking and suckling the bare skin there. Her neck cranes further and further back at the touch. Her fingers grasping tightly in my hair, urging me on.

The scalding heat building inside me rises at the submission.

Every part of me now feels like I am aching, straining, begging for her touch, her taste, her voice—everything.

I need more.

Moving up to nibble onto her ear, I notice she's glancing off to the side. I follow her line of sight, mid-bite, and realize she's staring at Zevran. The assasin's sitting perched on a bench across the room, sipping casually from a silver goblet, watching us like a patient predator, eyeing its meal. His steady gaze calm, unrelenting. Even when caught red-handed.

But no.

I will not let her continue to think of him here. Now. Not while he is allowing this.

Determined to see this through, I sneak one hand down her stomach, into her smalls. She gasps and arches into my fingertips as I find her already wet core.

A satisfied growl rumbles in my throat at the discovery.

In a swift maneuver, I lift up her leather chest armor with my other hand, and latch my lips around one of the exposed peaks. Licking. Sucking.

This time she moans. Her body quivers under the combined ministrations.

"Fen-Fenris," she whispers, lifting her core further, into my fingers continued, probing caress.

Her voice calling out my name sends me spiraling over the edge.

Unable to hold back any more, I sit up straight and strip myself bare. I then do the same for her, trailing feathered strokes and kisses across every inch of her skin while removing such.

She now lies naked before me in all her splendor. Her fair skin glowing in the pale moonlight. A true sight to behold.

I trace an admiring hand down the center of her chest, all the way to her thighs. Spreading them wide open. Then, bending down, I taste her core.

Serena cries out as I lick her already soaked center, my taste buds relishing in her own exquisite flavor. Her forbidden honey.

"Fen-Fenris, wait," she begs.

However, I can tell she does not mean it.

Her soft yet trembling hand, beckoning my head downward, and her quivering but bucking hips convince me as much.

So, I do not relent.

I continue the assault.

Her head falls all the way back. Her bucking hips picking up speed the more I lap at her folds. Her moaning grows louder, to the point where I take the opportunity to stick my tongue inside, to explore her depths. Serena arcs into it. The warmth of her walls enveloping me.

With a mewling cry, her whole body tenses, shakes, as she reaches a release.

I gulp down her gushing juices greedily, thankful for once that I was forced to watch such demonstrations in the past, in order to please her fully.

As soon as she stills, I sit up and gaze down at her still huffing form. My lower self throbbing. Finally at my limit.

Positioning myself as close as I can to her entrance, I grasp onto her legs and thrust into her.

My already hazy mind tingles at her instant snugness.

Her slick walls and overwhelming heat encompassing me now to the fullest.

Serena moans and grasps at the sheets beneath her. And hearing her pleasure-filled voice again, paired with that of my own, my last shackle of control snaps.

Leaning forward, I crush my lips against hers, and ram into her with fervent abandon. Pleasurable jolts constantly wash through me as I pick up our pace. Every part of me demanding I push into her more. To feel her more. Serena's lustful whimpers, and gentle hands, raking my back and sides, only adding to the internal fire.

I can't get enough.

Desperate to go deeper, to bring out even more of her voice, more of these sensations, I force Serena onto her side, facing Zevran.

If he's so intent on watching this, then so be it. I'll offer him an unobstructed view. Let him see the price of his permission.

Serena freezes up for a moment, perhaps realizing my intent. But any objection dies unspoken on her lips as I plunge into her from behind.

Her voice once again succumbs to the pleasure.

Moaning. Mewling.

Her hips grinding, moving, finding a compatible rhythm with my own. A decadent dance.

Wrapping my free hand underneath her, I grasp onto one of her breasts to tug her closer, then dare peek up at Zevran as I continue to crash into her.

He's still watching from his seat on the bench. Bearing the same composed, admiring expression as before.

The pressure inside me builds the more we continue. Even under his regarding gaze. Our increased ante, and new position, now leaving me almost breathless, winded.

Nearing my breaking point, and barely holding back what feels like a mounting eruption, I roll Serena and I until we're both on our hands and knees on the mattress. From there, I grasp onto her hips and thrust into her as deep as I can manage.

The ensuing sensation's intense. Heavenly.

Serena calls out my name constantly into the pillows. Along with what could be mistaken as prayers to her Creators.

The fire in my brands peak. Like molten lava, flowing through my veins. Growing. Growing. Burning. Searing.

Serena screams and clenches tight around me.

The pleasure and heat in my veins is too much.

My whole body contracts into a shudder, releasing the suppressed explosion I've been fighting back all this time.

A bright light flashes before my eyes as I lean forward into it.

With it, comes memories.

Memories of a past I thought long forgotten.

Of Varania and I arguing over toys together when we were younger. Danarius forcing the two of us to kneel beside another dozen slaves. And the countless combat training sessions I was forced to endure, along with the other young warrior recruits.

All of their names, their significance, within arms grasp.

And then, they are gone.

I am returned to the present.

The fog in my mind lessening to a daze.

Panting and disoriented, I struggle to keep holding myself up. But utterly spent and exhausted, I slip out of Serena and collapse at her side, unable to stop myself from doing so any longer.

"Well done." Zevran claps loudly across the room. "I must say, I'm rather impressed. Such passion, my friend."

I scowl up at him. Not certain if he's serious or trying to mock me.

He walks over and removes his tunic, pulling it off, over his head. His armor already lying discarded in a neat pile on the bench behind him.

"You earned a moment to catch your breath," he says. "But do not take too long."

He trails a slow finger up Serena's spine, making her arch and moan again.

"The fun is only just getting started."