Wolf Unbroken

Author's Note: So wait, what just happened? I'm writing another Fenris fic after 9 years of silence. It looks like I started writing "Wolf Unchained" after taking a 9 year break as well, so maybe there is something in the water once every nine years that brings me out of writing hiatus? I am not sure! But I have been recently replaying DA2 and I realised that yes, Fenris is still my favourite DA character and there is so much that I would still like to know about him that the games aren't telling me. I know that there are plenty of graphic novels, other fanfics and books out there about him.. but I guess I just feel compelled to put down my own ideas on paper. So here we go again, after all this time! Thank you so much for all your comments on the previous fic, "Wolf Unchained". This new story will pick up where the previous one left off. I hope you will enjoy my take on Fenris' past, present and future.

Dislcaimer: Fenris aka Lito, Hawke and all other Dragon Age characters in this story are owned by Bioware. I'm just here to play with them.

Chapter 1

The yard was covered in deep puddles. Lito could feel his bare feet sinking into the muddy ground as he ran across it and hid behind the shed in the back.

The rain had been falling all day. The sky was a dark grey colour, briefly illuminated at times by a muted flash of light from the ongoing storm. Somewhere in the distance the thunder rumbled, dampening the laughter and jeers of an approaching group of boys.

"Knifear! We're coming for you!" One of the boys shouted as they strolled into the yard and looked from left to right, trying to spot where Lito was hiding. There were six of them, all between eight and ten years old, about the same age as him. They all wore expensive robes and supple leather boots. Two of them were dragging a large sack behind them. Muffled cries and shouts could be heard from inside the sack which was also moving. One of the boys gave the sack a sharp kick. There was a yelp of pain and the sack became still.

"That's better," one of the boys grinned and then said a bit louder, "Your sister is not behaving very well Lito! I think we'll have to teach her some manners."

Lito clenched his fist and did a sharp intake of breath. He was completely soaked from the rain, his thin tunic sticking to his back like a slick second skin. He crouched in the shadows behind the shed, some thirty feet away from the boys. A trickle of slick wet blood ran down the side of his face, mixing with the rain on his skin. Lito ignored it as he considered his next move.

They had been ambushed on their way back from the market. Mother had sent them out for supplies, some vegetables that were needed for their master's dinner. Lito had been carrying the rather heavy crate, filled with a mix of potatoes and turnips. His sister Varania had cradled a jug of fresh goat's milk in her arms as she walked next to her brother. She was only five years old, a little urchin of a girl who was talking rapidly to her older brother, looking up at him with eyes full of adoration.

The gang had struck them from the back. Several stones had hit Lito's head and back, making him stumble to his knees and drop his crate in pain and surprise. He heard Varania screaming behind him and suddenly the gutter was running white, the milk flowing over the mud. He blinked, still feeling disoriented, and turned his head to see two boys pulling a sack over Varania's head as she screamed and struggled in vain against the attackers.

The rest of the boys were grinning at each other and turning on Lito with stones in their hands as he got up and did the only thing his instincts were screaming him to do - run.

He turned and sped off down the road, vegetables scattering everywhere. The rest of the boys took off after him while the other two finished tying the string of the sack. The muffled cries of the little girl could be heard within the sack as they started dragging it behind them. They hurried after their friends as they chased down Lito, jeering and calling after him.

Some people briefly observed the scene as they hurried through the streets in the rain but no one seemed to be bothered by what they had witnessed. They were much more interested in getting home to their warm shelters, out of the rain and the cold. Who cared if some highborn boys were having a bit of fun with a pair of worthless little slave kids?

Lito ran through the rain as fast as his legs could carry him. His head was aching, his heart thundering in his chest as he desperately tried to think of where to go. Several more stones found their mark in his back as his attackers were stopping to throw them before continuing their pursuit. Many also missed and hit the ground as he dodged and weaved, running full pelt in the direction of the Slave Quarters.

He was a fast runner but he knew he couldn't outrun them. There were too many of them and there was no help coming his way, not in this city. The guards wouldn't lift a finger to help him. If anything they might take bets to see which one of them would die first - Lito or his sister. If his mother would get involved, it could also end badly for her. Her life meant nothing compared to the lives of these highborn magister offspring.

And yet his feet were carrying him home to the Slave Quarter of Minrathous, back to their hovel of a building where he resided together with his mother and sister. He reached it soon enough, his feet finding the way home instinctively. There was an extensive yard in front of the cluster of hovels where the slaves resided. A latrine and multiple small buildings that contained farming equipment were stacked to the side of the hovels. A half dozen chickens were pecking at some grain in a corner. A small enclosure next to the hovels contained several big fat pigs. They were noisily rooting around the ground, chewing on the last of their dinner as Lito ran into the yard.

He could hear the boys getting closer, beginning to catch up. He had only bought himself a few seconds and had to hide quickly. He sprinted the last few yards to hide behind the shed furthest away from the gates, crouching low and staying out of sight.

The boys ran into the yard and grinned at each other again. They knew they had him cornered and could now take their sweet time with their taunting game.

"Come out, come out little Knifear," one of the boys called out in a sing song manner. He was the tallest and biggest of the gang, which clearly made him the leader. "We know you're here… and you know you can't escape us, don't you?"

Lito remained quiet and silence fell on the yard. Fat raindrops kept falling from the sky, landing in the already overflowing puddles with soft plopping sounds. He knew there was no help coming and there was nowhere for him to go, nowhere to escape. He shivered as a trapped animal while the pleading cries of his sister pierced the air. His mother was not at home - she was busy preparing dinner for their master in his mansion. Some other nearby slaves might be able to hear these cries but they would not risk their lives to help them. Interfering could mean a death sentence, to be marked for sacrifice for the next big blood magic ritual. No one would risk their necks for them.

"She's quite a little squealer, isn't she?" The leader of the gang laughed and gave the sack another kick. "I think we'll have some fun with her while you're hiding, Knifear boy. There's a spell I saw my Father do the other day that I've been absolutely dying to try out for myself… her blood will fuel it nicely, I think."

Lito's left hand slowly crept behind his back, quietly searching for something nearby. His fingers found the item they were looking for and wrapped themselves around the hilt of a wooden sword. The sword was not much to look at and it felt rough to the touch, but it was Lito's greatest and also his most dangerous possession.

He had spent countless hours working on this sword in-between all his chores in secret. He had managed to recover a discarded block of oak wood from a nearby building site a few months ago and had hidden it in a box behind this shed along with a few cutting and shaping tools he had managed to steal over time. As soon as his mother and sister went to bed after their exhausting and long days, Lito would sneak out of their hovel to work on his sword by the meagre light of the moon.

He didn't know what had made him do this. He didn't know where he had found the energy to do this every night for months or how he had managed to keep it a secret from everyone for so long. He knew that possession of a weapon, even a wooden sword, was a death sentence for a slave. Still he persisted to hone the wood into a long sword, night after night, covering the ground in wood shavings which he had to dispose of to hide the evidence of his work.

Maybe it had been the jeering calls and taunts from the high born boys over the most recent months and years, the tension building over time until Lito knew that it was just a matter of time until something like this would happen. Maybe it had been the constant abuse he, his mother and also now his sister had endured at the hands of his various masters ever since he could remember. He had come to accept the beatings and the humiliation as an inevitable part of his life as a slave.. and yet.

In the face of this hopelessness, somewhere deep inside him a quiet resolve had been growing over time, some silent drive to at some point do something, even though he did now know what.

Last week he had watched his mother cry after putting Varania to sleep. He knew that their situation was dire. A few years ago they had been sold to their current master who was a ruthless local magister, known for his erratic and unpredictable behaviour. They did not know how much longer they could last in these conditions, or what would happen to Varania when she got older.

It was not unusual for the magisters to keep young elven girls as concubines which they could do with as they pleased and even share their favourites with their friends. The very thought of that happening to his sister made Lito's blood run cold. His father had been separated from them before Varania was even born, sold off to another magister and taken to another part of Tevinter. Lito only had a few memories of him. He never expected to see him again and knew that there was no one else to protect his mother and sister from this terrible life.

So he had worked on his sword in secret and waited for the inevitable push off the abyss which was bound to come. He didn't know how the sword would help their situation, but it was the only thing he could think of doing. He hadn't thought too much about what would happen to his family if he would ever actually use the sword in their defence. Some things were best not to be considered. His daily routine had just consisted of fulfilling his duties as a slave and obsessively working on the sword at night for some purpose even he could not understand. Slaves had no dreams or nightmares about the future. The present was all that existed and that was enough of a nightmare to deal with.

Now the time had come for Lito to face his attackers and make his desperate stand. His only desire was to give his sister a chance to escape and take down as many of them as he could before they killed him.

He took a deep breath and steeled his resolve as he gripped the sword firmly in his hands. He rushed out of his hiding place with a scream that seemed to come from the very depths of his despair, the sword raised high in the air with both hands. A fork of lightning struck the sky, illuminating his furious young face as he charged into his first and also probably last battle.

He struck the first boy in his path who happened to be looking the other way and had his back turned towards Lito. The wooden sword connected with the boy's shoulder and he heard a satisfying crunch of breaking bone as the boy fell to the ground. In almost the same breath his sword was swinging at his next target as it hit the back of next boy's knees and swept him to the ground. The third boy was beginning to turn and mutter a spell as Lito's sword slammed into the side of his head and he slumped to the ground, unconscious. Lito kicked the boy's staff away from him before he lunged for his next victim.

Three down, three to go. But the element of surprise was over. The two boys who had been holding the sack with Varania in it dropped it to the ground, reaching for the staves behind their backs. The leader of the gang, the tallest boy, muttered something under his breath and Lito barely managed to roll out of the way of a flame strike spell. It scorched the ground where he had just stood a moment ago. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins like liquid fire. He could still feel the heat of the flames as he swung his sword towards the leader of the gang and hit the boy's side, feeling the cracking of his ribs. Lito's hit also damaged the staff the leader had been holding, hurting the staff enough to create a dent in the wood and have the staff issue sparks of distress from the attack. The leader groaned in pain as he slumped to the ground, bringing his staff up to defend himself against Lito's next attack.

Lito roared as he swung his sword down as hard as he could, breaking the already damaged staff in two. The boy was covered in feeble sparks from the staff as it fell apart in his hands. The leader stared up at Lito in disbelief, shock and terror filling his eyes at this unexpected attack. Without waiting, the elf rounded on the two remaining boys who were clutching their staves, the sack with Varania still feebly moving between them on the ground. He was just about to rush at them when one of the boys swung his staff downwards, pointing it at the sack with the girl.

"Drop the sword or she dies," he cried out, unable to hide the terror in his voice. His friend immediately pointed his staff at the sack as well, stopping Lito in his tracks.

"Let her go and walk away," Lito growled in response as he raised his sword and readied himself for the next attack, digging his bare feet in the mud as he took his stance. The rain was still falling heavily from the sky but he felt neither the cold nor the rain. His insides were screaming with blood and fury he had never felt before, a determination and thirst for battle had had never felt as keenly as he felt it right now. "I might not win this fight but I will sure as hell make you pay for this."

The boys stole an uncertain glance at each other, unsure how to proceed. Their friends were all groaning and rolling around the mud in pain, except for the one that Lito had hit in the head. He was not moving at all.

Several things happened at once. One of boys took a deep breath and was beginning to cast a spell with his staff pointing firmly at Varania at the same time as Lito began to run towards them with his sword raised high in the air…

…and then a wall of bright light and searing pain filled Lito's body and vision as he fell face forward into the mud. His sword vanished from his hands, his arms held behind his back with unyielding force, the same force which had tied his feet together and made him fall to the ground.

Silence fell over the yard, broken only by the distant rumbling of thunder.

"Well, well, well," a silky smooth male voice suddenly purred somewhere above Lito's head. "What have we here?" The magical force was keeping him firmly down, pressing on his back like a heavy invisible boot. He was unable to look up or move even the slightest inch. His heart thundered in his ears.

"This is quite the scene, I must say," the voice continued to muse lightly. Lito heard the approach of a man and could just barely make out the shape of elegant leather boots in his limited vision. "I'm glad I decided to stop to investigate this further."

"Magister Danarius, sir," one of the boys who was still standing began breathlessly, his friends eagerly chiming in, "This insolent elf dared to attack us with a weapon - you know they are not allowed - he must be punished-"

"That's quite enough, son of Aurelius," the man who was presumably Magister Danarius cut him off. "I can see you've made quite the mess of things here and you'd do well to keep your mouth shut. Open the sack."

There was a sound of strings being pulled open and then Lito could hear the sobs and sniffles of his sister as she was released from her confinement. He could hear her crawling in the mud and crying out for him. "Lito, oh Lito," she was sobbing.

"I'm sorry sister," he whispered quietly and closed his eyes, waiting for the punishment that was sure to come. He only wondered in what form his death would reveal itself. Would it be slow and torturous or swift and decisive? By defending his sister with his sword he felt that he had done the only thing he could. His only regret was that he had not been able to give his sister a chance to escape from this place and from this life.

"So this little girl has been the reason for all this commotion, hmm?" Above him, the male voice laughed softly. The leather boots were now right next to his face. He could see the golden decorative clasps on their buckles. "And here lies her stout defender. My my.. aren't you quite the fierce little wolf?"

Lito remained silent, unsure of how to respond.

"Look up at me," the voice commanded and suddenly Lito felt that he could move his head and arms again, though his legs were still magically tied at the ankles. He pushed his hands into the mud and pulled himself up in a sitting position, shifting his knees under him. He raised his head slowly and faced a tall man in black and scarlet robes with calculating eyes, sharp features and neatly clipped hair. An invisible dome around this magister was keeping the rain from falling on him and its reach was also now partially covering Lito as the man was standing so close to him. Lito met his gaze defiantly as he awaited his death sentence.

"Oh yes," the man chuckled as he looked down at Lito, apparently amused at what he could see. "You do have quite the fire inside you, don't you? You might have potential, indeed.. Lito, is that your name?"

"Yes," Lito replied through gritted teeth. His thoughts raced almost as furiously as his heart. He wasn't sure what was happening but it seemed that he might not be dying right away. He stole a sideways glance at his sister, who was still sobbing uncontrollably and laying in the mud. The attackers had shuffled a bit to the side, gathering themselves after the fight and whispering to each other as they were looking at him and Danarius. The boy who had been knocked unconscious was being shaken by his friends in an attempt to wake him up.

The magister's plush carriage was parked just outside the yard. The six beautiful black horses that had been pulling it were standing patiently on the road, their hooves scraping at the ground. Several armoured guards were flanking the magister and at least four others were guarding the carriage, still sitting on their horses. Two elf servants were standing slightly apart from the guards, also watching the scene attentively.

"Well, Lito," the magister purred. "Based on this spectacle I may be inclined to spare your life and use you for a little project that I'm working on." He looked at the sobbing girl on the ground. "This is your sister, is it? How would you like to have a chance to truly save her life? Perhaps even the life of your mother and father? To set them free from their life of slavery?"

Lito blinked at these words, unbelieving. "What-"

"Yes or no, little wolf?" Danarius asked again sharply, impatience filling his voice. "I will not ask you again."

Lito swallowed. There was only one reply that he could give. Even if this chance that was being offered was a lie, it could still buy him some time to figure out what, if anything, he could do to save his sister. And if there really was a chance to set her and his mother free… He would do anything to spare his family this endless suffering.

He took a deep breath before giving his reply. "Yes."

"Yes…?"

"Yes, sir," Lito added quietly, his eyes downcast.

"Excellent," Danarius smiled. "Now all you have to do to seal our bargain is kiss my feet."

Lito had heard this request before and it was nothing new to him. It was one of the many forms of humiliation his family had endured their entire life. He kept his emotions under control as he leaned forward and kissed the boots of the man who had so suddenly interrupted what would have otherwise been his final moments on Earth. All he could feel was gratefulness for having been spared. He had saved his sister from their attackers, at least for the moment, and he still lived.

"Lovely," Danarius smile widened. "What is the name of your current master?"

"Magister Cassius, sir," Lito replied promptly.

"Then I will make the necessary arrangements with your master. You will be collected and brought to my mansion tonight." He touched Lito's wooden sword with his boot. It had rolled a few feet away from him. "Looks like you get to fight another day, Lito. I look forward to seeing how well you will fight for me."

Without another word he turned around and walked over to the group of boys, leaving Lito and Varania crouched on the ground. The rain began to cover Lito's face once more and he felt the last of the magical bonds release him. One of Danarius' men picked up Lito's sword and broke it in half, throwing the pieces down with a snort before following his magister.

"You should all be ashamed of yourselves," he heard Danarius say coldly to the group of high born boys. "Taken down like this by a one elf slave? Pathetic," he spat on the ground and hit one of the boys square across his face. The boy's cheek opened up in a bloody wound from the force of the blow. Danarius' hands were covered in jewelled rings which increased the impact of the hit.

"Your actions bring shame on your fathers and on the Magisterium itself," he continued coldly. "I will be having a word with them all. Now run along and mend your broken bones. Next time make sure you can finish what you start."

He turned and walked back to his carriage. One of the elf servants opened the carriage door while the other knelt down and exposed his back to Danarius, who stepped on him to climb into the carriage. The carriage door was shut and the elf servants jumped to the front of the carriage to take the reins of the horses. The carriage sped off and was swiftly swallowed by the oncoming darkness of the night. The horses of the armoured guards followed it promptly, the sound of hooves receding in the distance.

The group of boys cast one last hateful look at Lito as they supported their semi-unconscious friend who looked badly hurt. "We will get you next time, Knifear," their leader spat, holding the broken pieces of his staff in his arms. "Or better yet, we'll come by and pay your sister a visit when you're no longer around." He grinned maliciously and they all laughed as they all left the yard and disappeared from view.

Lito and Varania looked at each other mutely for a moment, her hiccoughing sobs the only sound to break the silence. Without saying a word, Lito got up and picked up his sister as she wrapped her arms around him. He walked over to the hovel they called their home, pushed open the door with his foot and brought his sister inside. The downpour continued to cover the empty yard, falling in the growing puddles. The pieces of Lito's broken sword lay untouched in the mud.

Somewhere far away, in another time and place...

A lanky full grown elf called Fenris opened his silvery grey eyes to the darkness of his bedroom and took a deep breath.