Chapter 3: Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

Hawke saw no reason to let a perfectly good campsite go to waste for the evening and, as such, the three of them; now two elves and a human, had settled at last around the roaring fire just as the sun reached its zenith. Mariner, happily free of his chains thanks to Fenris, sat on the far side, away from the other two, as Hawke set about to cook them a passable stew from the potatoes and vegetables stored in the second tent.

"So…" Hawke tried, by way of casual conversation directed at their newest companion. "How exactly did you end up all the way down here? I didn't think your people really came this far south."

"We don't usually. It's not safe as…well…I suppose you can see."

"Is your caravan on the coast then?"

Mariner shifted uncomfortably. "No. They're… dead."

Fenris looked up from where he sat, whetting the edge of his sword. "The slave traders?"

"Yes, but not these. I think my happening upon this particular group was just another stroke of misfortune in a long string of bad luck on my part."

Hawke knew they were treading on dangerous ground here but he had developed something of a specialty in volatile elves as of late. "Is that why you want to go to Amaranthine? To find the ones who did it?"

Mariner sighed and drew his knees up against the chill coming in off the ocean. "I'm not out for revenge, if that's what you are worried about. Three were taken captive, bound for the exchanges into Tevinter. I thought if I could get into the city, I could find where they went. Or, where they had been sold off to, anyway."

"Were they also…asha…ash…"

"Ashvani. Yes."

Fenris interjected before Hawke managed to hurt himself. "They came specifically for them?"

Again, Mariner shifted self-consciously and stared down at the ground near the fire. "They caught us on the road from the Kirinae villages. The elders had warned us before leaving that we shouldn't be traveling in such a large group, that it would only attract unwanted attention. But we were family and… it was so hard to imagine splitting up just because some bandits might be lurking. We should have listened but…" He trailed off.

Fenris shot Hawke a look warning him not to press further.

"But I suppose that's how all these stories start, right? The bad reasons that have brought us all here?" The younger elf continued. "They were ready for us, though. An entire company ambushed the caravan from behind. They killed most of the ash, the men and the old, rounded up the asha and bound them together. I don't know where they took them. Then they searched everyone and identified the ashvani. They separated them out and took them to the ships bound for the Amaranthine. It was pretty obvious they were who they really wanted."

"How did you escape?" Hawke did his best to keep his tone neutral and casual.

"I…didn't. I wasn't there."

"I don't quite follow. How do you know that's what happened to them then?"

Mariner glanced up at the bubbling pot of impromptu stew. It actually smelled pretty good, with the mix of tarragon and rosemary seasonings that made 'traveler's soup' so memorable. That and the camp reminded him so much of his caravan that he almost failed to swallow the rush of sorrow that welled up in his throat.

"I was led away by a vision before it happened. Something I saw…in the woods near the foothills. At first, I thought it was a real thing but…it turned out to be a Fade apparition. I guess I should have known but it didn't strike me as out-of-place at the time. It took me into the bramble and then up along the mountain-side before I realized that it was just…nothing. Wisps of smoke and fog on an early morning. Not the first time I've had that problem, though, so I wasn't really all that upset about it. It hadn't taken me far in any case, so I thought I might just rejoin everyone on the other side of the ridge where the road curved around. They'd just give me a hard time for running off after spirits again and off we'd go. But when I reached the slope, I saw what was happening. I saw what was done to them. Saw them taken. I wanted to help them but…what I could I do? I tried to follow afterwards but I couldn't …once the ships left port."

"I'm sorry." Hawke offered. "I'm sorry they did that to you and your family. But I'm going to be honest with you, it's not a lot to go on. Three random elves in a city like Amaranthine is like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. Slave markets can sometimes be in the thousands, depending."

"I can find them. There's only one reason they took our ashvani there; Alcuin, Lyric, and Aurvandil. There's only one reason they ever take us there."

Fenris suddenly dropped his whetstone, going white-knuckled at the grip of his sword. "No." He spit. "That practice has been outlawed for a decade. It's illegal, under punishment of imprisonment or exile."

Mariner unflinchingly met the gaze of the angered elf. "And you think that has stopped it? You think the rich will not pay handsomely for what they want? All it has done is make it more…exclusive." The last word came out almost like a snarl.

Hawke slumped onto the log nearest Fenris with a frustrated groan. "Ok, look, I know that whatever conversation is currently going on between you two is about what I can only guess is some horrific shared experience and all that, but can one of you please explain to me what is going on? This is something about slave-breeding again, yes?"

"No, Hawke. I'm afraid it's much worse than that." Fenris carefully laid his weapon aside and turned to face his lover who remained hunched over next to him. "Do you know what Serenic is?"

Serenic. Yes, actually he did know that word. Back when the old Inquisition first created the original Rite of Tranquility; the ritual that stripped mages of their connection to the Fade and rendered them Dreamless, there had been only one known method of reversal. This was through the use of a dangerous and extremely rare substance referred to then only as High Spirits. Later, it became known as Serenic when it was used in secret by mage clinics to free Tranquils without the knowledge of either the Circles or the Templars. Unfortunately, reconnecting mages with the Fade was not the only thing it did and within a few years Serenic was also being used recreationally by the wealthy and elite for its potently euphoric effects and tendency to induce intensely lucid dream-states. Dream-states that unfortunately, should the drug ever be abused or indulged in too frequently, became permanent. In that way, the Serene and the Tranquil were quite alike, if only at wildly opposite ends of the spectrum. The Tranquil had no connection whatsoever to the Fade, the Serene had far too much of it.

"I know it's a drug." Hawke answered. "Of sorts. My father used to warn us about it when Bethany, Carver, and I were kids. But it was mostly a rich kind of thing; way out of our league. Every now and again you'd hear stories about some noble or some king's kid overdosing on the stuff and going insane. It was pretty much universally banned after the Templars found out that mages were using it to avoid Tranquil. Or that it could reverse Tranquil. It was hard to come by even then though, especially after the entire city-to-city campaigns dedicated to rooting it out. Just being caught with a dram of it could get you prison."

Fenris nodded slowly. "And…do you know where it comes from?"

Hawke had that sinking feeling in his stomach. The kind of sinking feeling he always got when he and Fenris has these kinds of conversations. He had already pieced together that the slave traders who had attacked the Elusivir at Kirinae were there to harvest the ashvani and that the ashvani were then being sold into the slave trade in the Tevinter Imperium via Amaranthine specifically because they had something to do with producing Serenic…but he wasn't sure he wanted to know exactly what their relationship to the substance was.

"No." The mage finally replied, chewing his lip. "And I don't really want to know, do I?"

To Hawke's surprise, Fenris did not answer him but turned to Mariner instead. "I will explain it to him. But I think I should do so later. You do not need to hear this."

Mariner sighed but didn't look up.

"In fact!" Hawke jumped to his feet, oddly grateful for a break in the tension. "How about we all have a nice lunch instead and then see what we can do with this camp? I, for one, am starving!"

He didn't bother waiting for an answer from either of the elves as he spooned out large bowlfuls of the stew and handed them to his companions. A brief, comfortable, silence followed as each attempted to wrangle large hunks of steaming potatoes and carrots in amongst a slurry of celery, mushrooms, broth, and herbs. Mariner even found that he was pleasantly surprised at the mage's cooking skills. It was a passable stew; even, he thought, rather good.

As they slowly began to finish the meal, Fenris decided to change the subject.

"Fade visions, you said? So, you are an Oracle then?"

Mariner laughed, a little sadly. "Occasionally. But I'm not very good at it."

"An Oracle?" Hawke queried.

"Interpreter of the Fade." Fenris answered. "One who reads signs in the Dreaming. The Elusivir are famous for them."

"Is that like a Somniari? A mage who shapes the Fade?"

"Oracles do not necessarily wield magic per se." Mariner supplied. "The Fade speaks to us in specific ways, usually through images or symbols, while both dreaming and awake."

"So... a fortune teller?"

"I am not a fortune teller." The younger elf growled. "I don't read tea leaves, I've never owned a crystal ball, and I don't know what your star-sign means, if anything. Just…horrible stereotypes."

"Oh. Sorry. Then...what did you see? Before all the bad happened, I mean?"

Mariner shrugged. "Same thing I always see, funny as that may sound. Same thing I've seen for years now. I've had the same recurring vision since I was young. At first, there are butterflies. These… red-orange butterflies with white spots all over them that I've never seen elsewhere. And wherever they are going, I look into the distance and I see a great black wolf. Shaggy, massive, thing with these dark, reflective, eyes. It's watching me. Waiting for me, I think. It wants me to follow but…whenever I do it just… disappears again. I've never figured what it means even when there are differences from one occurrence to the next. I told you I wasn't very good at it."

"Maybe you were supposed to find us!" Hawke smiled through the last of his briny potatoes.

"Do you have a thing for wolves?" Mariner smiled back, incredulously.

The mage motioned towards his companion. "Well, there's Fenris. His name means "wolf." And…uh…"

"Are you my little butterfly, Hawke?" Fenris retorted, the humor in his voice giving his amusement away.

Hawke scowled. He might be a smart-ass, but at least he was usually a smart-ass with the witty upper-hand.

"No." Mariner finally chuckled. "I appreciate it but I don't think that's what it's about. Maybe one day I'll understand it but, for now, it's probably just going to be one of those mysteries."

"Hrmph." Hawke huffed but without any force behind it. It was actually nice to see the two elves smile a little.

As they searched the camp, the afternoon quickly wore on into early evening and it was nearly dusk by the time the three companions had fully taken stock of their situation. Rolling the last of the supplies into the front end of the nearest tent, Hawke turned to get a better look at the pack-horse: a short, stocky, draft-type pony with a rounded nose and a grey-flecked coat.

"Hey, do either of you want these carpet pads? I think they're probably supposed to go under the bedrolls."

Fenris glanced up from a rucksack he was casually rummaging through. "Matters little to me. Take them if you want them. I'm guessing we'll be sleeping here tonight either way."

At this point, Mariner had also wandered back into the fold from his brief foray out onto the beach.

"That's not a bad idea. I don't think you've left a slaver alive and no one else knows the camp is here, as far as I know. Secrecy was kind of their thing, even if they were abysmally bad at it. And Hag Slip isn't exactly on the main road, so we shouldn't be found by chance either. It might be the most peace and quiet we get for a while. Oh, and Hawke, watch out for Bodkin over there, he…"

"YAAAGH! OW!"

…. bites."

It was nearly midnight by the time Fenris entered the last tent, finding Hawke lounging back on the blankets and decadent carpets the erstwhile slavers and seen fit to outfit their camp with. Clearly, the group had intended to remain at Hag Slip for some time and had outfitted all three tents with a variety of comforts. Mariner, for his part, had chosen to sleep alone in the second tent; leaving the two lovers alone again at last in the third, nearest the waterfront. Though, it had not escaped Hawke that Fenris seemed broodier than usual and had remained outside, seated next to the campfire, until the stars were high and the other two had long since retired.

As his elven companion finally made his way over to him Hawke sat up, offering his hand to invite him down to his side. Without hesitation, Fenris accepted it but decided to sit across from Hawke rather than drop into his arms as the mage clearly desired.

"What I have to tell you, Hawke, is… not easy for me." He began. "But Mariner should not be the one to have to explain any of this."

Hawke sighed. "Fen, it's okay if you don't want to get into it. I can guess. Your people have been treated terribly for a very long time and I have no doubt that the Imperium occasionally does appallingly gruesome things to elves for no other reason than it can. You're not going to shock me."

"This…might."

Fenris shifted on his heels to sit cross-legged rather than on his knees. In truth, what he really wanted was to crawl into Hawke's arms right now, rest his cheek against his chest, and be held against him until the worry and the pain subsided. But first, he had to ensure that Hawke understood what was at stake here. But it meant talking about many things he would rather have never revisited again in a lifetime.

"When I was a slave, Danarius used to covet the idea of owning an ashvani. He wanted one desperately, in fact. So much so that he would scour the slave markets every month trying to find one. Even after the production of Serenic was outlawed, he would still routinely bribe raiders in the hopes of getting one. Every chance he got in every city we ever visited; he was looking for them. If he'd had encountered one on the streets, I have no doubt he'd have had him kidnapped and chained within the hour. He wanted nothing more than the prestige of having and displaying such a rare and precious pet, and I am sure that he had every intention of using said ashvani to procure Serenic once he figured out the method."

Hawke nodded, showing Fenris that he was paying close attention. "Did he ever…get one?"

"No, thank the Maker." Fenris relaxed slightly, his back curving forward as he came to rest his chin on his hands. "He never found one, but not for lack of trying. Any ashvani with the misfortune of ending up in the slave pens is never there for very long and slave-owners are neither inclined to advertise that they are in possession of one, nor are they apt to ever sell them."

"So…" Hawke coughed to clear his throat. "Serenic comes from an ashvani?"

"Yes." Fenris breathed. "Serenic slaves are a barbaric practice, Hawke. Vile to the very core. It doesn't just rob the slave of their freedom; it drains them of their very lifeforce, their connection to the Fade and their own souls. They become like the Tranquil almost; unfeeling, cold, numb…as though they are sleep-walking in both worlds."

"It's a ritual, then?"

"Of sorts." Fenris replied, still struggling against his memories and own sense of rising dread and panic. "Ashvani have a unique connection to the Fade. In a way, it almost flows through them; saturating them with its presence. It's why they have the position they do among the Elvhen clans and villages. It's why the Dalish prize them so much; seeing them as a kind of link to an ancient elven way of being. I mean, I don't know if it they are or not but whatever their instinctual abilities might be, it has meant their near extinction."

"Have you ever seen the ritual?" Hawke wasn't sure if he should be pressing Fenris for more information at this point and he certainly didn't like seeing the state his lover was slowly working himself into but he truly did want to know what was going on. And to put a stop to it if that was within his purview.

"Once." Fenris sagged backwards and flopped down onto the blanket behind him. He didn't think he could look Hawke in the eyes for this part. "Danarius attended an elite banquet in Val Royeaux in Orlais many years ago. The sponsor of this particular event was a…baron…or banner…or something along those lines. I don't remember his exact title. But he owned a Serenic slave; an ashvani he'd taken from an alienage in Jader. I have never seen someone so utterly …defeated. Hawke, I…" The words caught in his throat and threatened to spill down his cheeks.

Hawke leaned up immediately and rolled onto his side so that he could lay next to Fenris.

"He was like a living ghost." Fenris continued. "He barely spoke. Wouldn't even really ever look anyone in the eye. He just, sort of, existed. He would stand passively next to his master; wouldn't even flinch when anyone and everyone came up to touch him or pet him. Probably wasn't much older than I was at the time but there almost wasn't anything left of him. I don't even think they had a name for him."

"What happened to him?" Hawke gently prodded.

Fenris sighed. "The same thing that happens to all Serenic slaves. They brought him into the center of the room where the baron had put this huge red cushion. They stripped him and then they gave him a high dose of a combination of witherstalk, elfroot, and lyrium."

"Maker." Hawke shuddered. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"It makes them…extremely compliant. Witherstalk acts like a contraceptive and elfroot combined with lyrium sends them into a trance-like state. I heard the baron say that is also ensures that the resulting Serenic is…I don't know…suitably potent, or something."

"Well, on some level, I guess this ashvani wasn't going to mind whatever happened afterwards, at least. Not with that stuff in his system."

Fenris shot Hawke a wilting look but didn't admonish him for the statement. Ultimately, he was actually right. Elfroot and lyrium had such intoxicating effects that the drugged ashvani in question (or really any elf made subject to it) often had little to no memory of the next several days; the ritual included.

"No." He replied. "Small favors, I suppose."

"But since you mentioned witherstalk, I'm guessing the next part of this ritual involves the slave-owner, or one of the guests, raping this poor kid, doesn't it?"

Fenris was silent for a moment and Hawke did not prompt him again. Instead, the mage reached out to tentatively stroke Fenris' side reassuringly. If nothing else, letting him know he was there.

"Yes." Fenris stared up at the ceiling of the tent. "But it cannot be done by a human. The ashvani must be taken by another elf; preferably one of a similar magical inclination but beyond that, any healthy male will do. Such was the case, as I witnessed it. The elite also loved to use this as a point of competition, of course. Whose slave would be the one to do it…whose slave might be made to…perform for the crowd."

Hawke's fingers reflexively tightened into Fenris' tunic. "Fen…they didn't make you…?"

Fenris chuckled bitterly. "No. It wasn't me. Danarius was keen to watch, certainly, but didn't put my name up for consideration, for which I am…grateful, I suppose. Had he ever actually managed to purchase a Serenic slave, I'm sure that would have changed, though. I have no doubt he would have delighted in such a…. pairing. And the results of it."

Hawke let out a slow breath. "Alright. So, they chose another elf to…do it. Everyone got their erotic show, no doubt. And then?"

"When the male was finished, he'd hardly caught his breath before two of the baron's guards grabbed him and pulled him away. I remember thinking how odd it was, at the time, that he actually fought them a little. He kept struggling not be forced off of the ashvani. I think he even bit one of them, actually. Now I think it was because he actually knew the ashvani. I think they'd been together before or, at least, that they were close in some sense."

"He was trying to protect him?"

"I think so. It would make sense, considering what followed. More men came and tied the ashvani down, though it wasn't like he was resisting. Then I saw his master come over and kneel down to him. For a moment, I thought that he was going to take him but no, that wasn't the intent. Instead, while the others held the ashvani down, he pushed his thighs apart again and then…he was doing something. I couldn't exactly see it but he pressed the heel of his hand hard into the ashvani's abdomen. Like, pressing and kneading with his fist. It was obviously painful because the ashvani cried out and even with the state he was in, started to fight. But his master just kept at it and then, in his other hand he had this…instrument. Like a curved metal rod with a flat edge. He put it inside of him. I'll never forget the sound the ashvani made then. Not for as long as I live, Hawke."

With a combined sense of boldness and concern, Hawke slid closer so that he was actually in contact with Fenris's side, holding him loosely as the elf related his experience.

"And that's how they harvested him. Wringing it out of his body like they were milking an animal. That's what Serenic is, Hawke. It's a mixture of the fluid secreted by a mated ashvani and their partner's seed. Produced in the intimate joining of their bodies and then forcibly stolen from them. The masters extract it and cure it with drying spices so that it becomes like a white balm, which they keep in wooden jars. Just a touch of it, Hawke, and they can languish in euphoria for days. Meanwhile, the slave they've raped and reaped dies a little more with each time. And that's the eventual and inevitable end of Serenic slave. One day, they're drugged into oblivion and they never come back."

Hawke stiffened and turned to look down at Fenris, who still hadn't taken his eyes off the ceiling.

"That's…." He started. "That's…. oh, dear gods…. Fenris, that's disgusting! It's…it's grotesque! People actually do this?!"

Fenris immediately rolled his shoulders to better regard the mage. "Seriously, Hawke? You're a human, you've seen what humans do, and this strikes you as especially gross?"

Hawke sputtered. "I…. yes!"

Fenris groaned lowly. "Humans routinely scour the oceans for whale vomit to make ambergris to make perfume. You hunt deer to scoop out the musk in their glands to make incense and soap. You cook and eat the testicles of goats and bulls for virility and for some reason the idea that the rich steal the fluids of their elven slaves to use at their leisure grosses you out? Not to mention, of course, how highly prized it has been by you mages attempting to avoid the punishment for…"

"Fenris!"

Hawke met his lover's rising anger with a terse shout. "I am not your enemy."

He could feel the tense trembling in Fenris' arms, see the fury and the hurt in the set of his jaw and the furrowing in his brow.

"Fen. We've been through this how many times? I'm with you. I'm here for you. You don't have to persuade me as to what is the right course of action here. I'm not going to fight you on this, so please, don't treat me like your adversary. I want to be your partner in this. I want you to trust me."

"I…do trust you, Hawke." Fenris took a breath in an attempt to release some of the rigidity in his back. "The only reason I'm telling you any of this is…because I trust you. It's just…this is just…difficult…"

"I know. Depravity is sometimes…difficult. But I understand. I do. I understand that we're going to Amaranthine tomorrow and that we're going to find these three ashvani and get them out of whatever trouble they're currently in. That we're going to help Mariner save what's left of his family and get them home. I told you that, one day, I was going to take you to stranger places, didn't I? Well, I'd say I'm a man of my word and this definitely counts."

Fenris actually laughed a little and the sound of it made Hawke relax a bit more. So much so, the mage even chanced a delicate kiss to the elf's lips before leaning back and raising his hand to caress Fenris' face. When his lover turned to press his cheek into the touch, Hawke bent down to kiss him again. He kept it slow, teasing the other lightly with his tongue until Fenris brought a gauntleted hand up to his neck to keep him still. When Hawke finally let up, he was pleased to note that his lover had yielded to him, and was calm and lax in his arms.

"I love you, Fenris. I love you and I would never let anyone hurt you."

"Donumte, amatus. You are a gift to me."