Warning: this chapter is rated M for explicit content. Read at your own discretion.


SERENA

Something's wrong.

I don't know what it is, but my hair won't stop standing on end, ever since we reached the Hanged Man tonight.

And based off of Zevran's quiet intensity as well, I'm not alone in this thinking.

Our group approaches the red-headed, elven woman, seated at the tavern's central table. This . . . brother and sister's specified meeting place. Her hair's pulled up into a nice, neat bun, as Fenris's earlier letters described, the bright strands serving as a stark contrast to her pale skin and dark face makeup.

She looks over at us with her stunningly clear, forest-green eyes, that match Fenris's. Meanwhile, I notice the last other Lowtown patron scurry his way out of the bar.

"It really is you," the woman says, staring back down at her hands, clasped on top of the 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 tavern stairs, her posture unnaturally stiff. Expectant.

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

Heavy footsteps clink in the upstairs hallways.

The type that can only be made when donning hefty weapons and armor.

Stemming from more than a few persons.

"Fenris, we have to get out of here!" I grasp onto his arm, my nerves now tingling, begging for release.

Fenris squints down at me.

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

My gut sinks.

Fenris's expression falls.

"I'm sorry it came to this, Leto." Varania shrinks into herself, hanging her head.

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

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

Hawke and I both grasp our weapons and step closer to Fenris. "I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius!" Fenris snaps, waving 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 me, the both of us still tense, yet ready to pounce, if needed. "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 right and needed.

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

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

I want to rip his throat out.

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

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

Danarius sighs. "The word is master," he sneers, and Varania retreats, back behind the armored men, against the nearby wall.

The men raise their swords, and just like that, our group leaps forward. Lured into unavoidable combat once again.


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

Danarius broken body collapses with a near inaudible groan beside his other fallen conscripts. Bleeding out. Lifeless. The death well deserved. Yet, still not good enough for him.

Fenris then pivots toward Varania.

"I had no choice, Leto." She lifts her hands up in surrender.

"Stop calling me that," he snarls, narrowing 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?"

Definitely not the argument I would've used, all things considered. But Varania stands up taller now, glaring her 'brother' down with scornful determination. "You have no idea what we went through! What I've had to do since Mother died!" she shouts. "This was my only chance!"

"And now you have no chance at all." Fenris's markings glow blue again, with him continuing his pursuit.

Varania stumbles back, cowering, with her both arms raised up. "Please . . . don't do this," she whispers.

She glances over at the rest of us.

"Please, tell him to stop!"

"Wait! Don't kill her!" Hawke dares draw near.

"Why not?" Fenris whips around at him, looking feral. "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 more thick, gravely voice. His rigid form.

He's ready to kill her.

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 for their transgressions . . .

"This is your family, Fenris," I join Hawke at his side, the words barely escaping me, catching on the disgusting lump building in the back of my throat.

Fenris pauses, considering.

Avoiding looking at either of us, he 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, right after passing Zevran. "You said you didn't ask for this, but that's not true," she spouts at Fenris's back. "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?" He looks back at her, his voice and expression stricken for once.

"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 glimpses over the rest of us and retreats out of the tavern.

It takes everything I have to not chase after her. To demand she apologize. Fenris deserves it, after what she's put him through.

But then I notice Fenris turn away from us again. He stands there, lowering his head, in what I can only assume to be heartbreaking, hunched defeat. "I thought discovering my past would bring a sense of belonging, but I was wrong." He faces us. "Magic has tainted that, too."

His tone drops an octave, and he stares off to the side.

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

My heart pangs. Before I even realize it, I step closer, until I'm standing right in front of him. "We're here, Fenris," I insist, gazing up at him in hurried desperation.

Anything to help him ease this pain. This burden. To assure him he's not alone.

Fenris directs a tender gaze at me and puts one gentle hand on my cheek, flashing me a sad yet grateful, affectionate smile.

The softness in it makes my pulse throb and flutter; the skin he touches burning hotter than the summer sun. But before I can be swallowed by the sensation or emotion, Fenris moves back, veering away from us again. His gloom returning. Overcoming him.

He halts like for a moment, just focusing down at the blood-soaked floor, then faces us once more.

"You heard what Varania said. I wanted these. I fought for them," he rolls his shoulders, irritation spiking in his voice, like he's disgusted by 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 long, white fringe, then stalks past us, toward the 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 this on my way back to the Hightown mansion. Serena tails quietly behind me, serving as my sole escort through the deserted night streets—the others having opted to stay behind, to clean up Danarius's mess, left back at the tavern.

This is not how I pictured how tonight 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 and 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 my gauntlet's sharpened fingertips pierce into my palm, drawing blood. The biting pain and warm liquid coating my skin the only things keeping me from lashing outward, from punching or kicking something in destructive rage.

Craving solitude, I storm into the mansion as quick as I can, slamming the front door open with a wide sweep of an arm. Serena shuts it softly behind me, and I halt my frustration-induced stomping 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.

"Why?" I growl out. The aches in my chest only becoming worse at her unyielding acceptance.

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

She trails off.

"Venhedis, woman! Why? Why must you be here? Why not go to him?" I spin toward her and close in on her 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, teal eyes. The pain lightening, but the tightness still crushing enough to make it near impossible to breathe.

No, she does not mean what I think she 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, pivoting away. My mind now fighting between reason and this accursed, hopeless desire.

"Fenris, I . . ." She reaches out to me, and I catch her by the wrist.

The feel of her cool skin on mine almost sends me hurtling over the edge, begging me to give in.

I want to pull her body to mine.

To touch her. To close this distance.

Doubts over her true feelings or actions be damned. I want to feel her!

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

I glare down at her, determined to send her away now. To let the fear, that no doubt must be plastered on her expression from my careless actions, fuel my resolve.

However, there is no fear when I dare look back up at her. Only a mutual longing, teetering on a delicate cliff.

It is too much to bear.

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

Serena and I both flinch and jump away from each other.

It's Zevran. He steps closer, out of the archway's shadows, taking the two of us in with a knowing, widening smirk.

"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—" Serena tries to step forward.

"Ah! No need to explain, my dear Grey Warden," Zevran lifts a finger in front of 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 alone with him at the Hanged Man. The first of many such encounters, where he's continued to taunt me with something beyond my grasp.

"What kind of solution?" Serena narrows her suspicious gaze at him.

"A simple one, really." He passes behind her, nonchalantly. "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?"

He stops and turns to face us, his expression unnaturally calm and serious now. The weight of his words ringing with earnest honesty.

"You want to . . . what?" Serena gasps.

Her already reddened cheeks glow a shade darker.

"Very well," I agree. No hesitation.

Serena whips her focus back onto me, as if she can't believe her eyes or 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 now know for certain: nothing could be worse than living 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 deviant pact with a legendary assassin, 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 best, with no binding strings attached.

"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 like a breached fish. "I . . I . . . You're both serious?"

Zevran nods, and I take a 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, for no other words could assure her of my intent.

Serena clutches the necklace around her neck and gulps. "Al-Alright," she whispers, lowering her head, and my pounding heart soars. "If . . . you're both cert—"

I dive forward, cutting the rest of her words off with a crushing kiss. One I've held back for so many years.

Serena moans against my lips, and I can't help but groan and slip my tongue into her mouth. Her familiar taste of apples and sunshine dances across my taste buds. It's addictive sweetness the exact same as three years ago, and it is suddenly clear . . . I've never had enough. How I've lived without it since, I do not know. For it seems identical to living without air.

Our tongues twist purposely slow together in the stunning recognition. Continuing to go deeper. Faster. Our pressing against each other becoming more urgent.

I grasp onto her cheeks to keep her close, determined to get drunk on this taste, this feeling. The passage of time, and everything else around us, now faint and inconsequential.

Serena's wary hands timidly reach out, hesitant to find holding at my chest. But to keep steady, she must. For I have no intention of letting go, of separating from her any time soon. For her touch. Her lips. Her soft, wispy breaths, brushing like golden, summer sunrays across my skin. They are enough to drive a sane man mad, and I accept each delicious offer gratefully, even as her caresses travel further downward, brushing like wildfire across my brands.

But it is not a painful burning, no. Not like I would expect.

No, it's a ravenous wildfire, equal to that of three years ago, the last time we kissed.

An unleashed, unbending monster hungering for more.

It takes everything I have to pull away from the near-overwhelming sensation. I gaze down at her. Breathless. Panting. Giving her one last chance to command me to go. For us to cease and desist. Because any longer and I won't be able to contain it.

Serena merely stares up at me, her beautiful, shimmering, teal eyes, stuck in a star-struck daze, sparkling like brilliant sapphires in the light.

The heat and mutual yearning there hypnotizes me. And for a moment, time stops.

I cannot breathe.

"Ahem! If we are all of mind now, perhaps we should move this party upstairs?" Zevran clears his throat.

Serena snaps out of it and looks over at the staring Crow.

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, I bury my fingers deep into her dark roots, tugging the long, silk-like strands downwards, to capture her lips in another hard kiss. Our hot tongues weave together with rejuvenated passion, both fighting for renewed dominance. Our unique flavors mixing together. Any hesitance soon lost to the persisting tide.

I hurry us upstairs amid the fiery, compulsive flurry. Each moment becoming hotter. More frantic. Upon reaching my quarters, I can't take it anymore. I throw us down upon the lone mattress, my lips breaking off from hers for only a moment to shift focus onto her tempting neck.

I lick and suck at the scrumptious skin there, devouring it as I've craved in secret all these years. Serena's head cranes further and further back, her approving fingers grasping tightly in my hair, her reaction urging me on.

The scalding heat building between us pools between my legs now.

Every part of me aches. Strains. Pleads for her touch. For her to call out my name.

Moving up to nibble onto her ear, in half-hopes to coax it out, I notice she's glancing off to the side.

I follow her line of sight and realize she's staring at Zevran. He's perched on the bench across the room, sipping from a silver goblet in front of the darkened fireplace. His eyes ogle us like a proud, entertained predator, watching its manipulated prey. His steadiness untiring. Dominating.

But no.

I will not let her—us—to think of him more or his games here.

Not while he is allowing this. Not while he has gifted us this chance.

Determined to see this through, to give him a taste of his own medicine, I rip off one gauntlet and sneak the bare hand into her smalls. Serena gasps and arches into the touch. A satisfied growl rumbles in my throat, discovering the warm, wetness already there.

In a swift maneuver, I lift up her leather chest armor with my opposite hand, and latch my lips onto one of the exposed peaks. Licking. Suckling. All while simultaneously stroking, where it is clear she longs to be touched.

This time Serena moans, loud, without inhibition, her whole body quivering in reactive spurts beneath me.

"Fen-Fenris," she whispers, lifting her core further, into the caresses.

That annihilates the last of my restraint.

I sit up straight and strip myself bare, the room far too hot now to endure otherwise. Then do the same for her. Unable to help myself.

Her fair skin glows in the pale moonlight. Her full nakedness, a true sight to behold. Something I feared I might never see in person. I trace an admiring hand down the center of her heaving chest, all the way to her inner thighs, still somewhat disbelieving she is really there. Then spread them wide open and bend down to taste her center.

"Fenris, wait!" She reaches out, trying to stop me.

However, her soft, trembling hand, pushing down on the back of my head a second later prevents me from doing such. So, I do not relent. I continue my feast. Savoring the fruity flavor of her forbidden honey.

Her head falls all the way back, her bucking hips picking up speed with my unyielding lapping against her folds. Her fingers clenching tighter. Her moans: louder. Until she arcs.

The warmth of her walls envelop my exploring tongue.

With a mewling cry, her whole body tenses, shakes, as she reaches a release. I gulp down her flowing honey greedily. Set on not wasting a single drop.

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

I am finally at my limit.

It is now or never.

Positioning myself as close as I can to her entrance, I grasp onto her legs and push into her slowly. Carefully. My already hazy mind tingles at her wet snugness. Her slick walls and overwhelming heat encompassing me to the fullest.

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

Leaning forward, I crush my lips against hers and thrust into her with fervent abandon. Pleasurable jolts wash over me as I pick up our momentum. Every part of me demanding I ram into her more. To take possession of her more. Until I've imprinted myself into her very soul and demonstrated my devotion fully.

Serena's lustful whimpers, and gentle hands raking across my back, only spike this internal fire.

I can't get enough.

I won't get enough.

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

If he's so intent on watching, 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 recognizing my plan. But any objection dies unspoken on her lips as I plunge into her from behind again, her voice and body succumbing to the pleasure once more.

Her hips grind and buck, quickly finding a compatible rhythm with my own.

Meanwhile, Zevran just continues watching us from his bench, bearing the same, composed, admiring attitude as before.

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

Nearing my breaking point, and barely holding back what feels like a mounting explosion, I roll Serena and I over until we're both on our hands and knees. The Crow and his antics no longer important. From there, I grasp onto Serena's hips and bury myself as deep into her as I can manage.

The resulting sensation's intense. Mind-numbing. Completing.

For a second, I can't move. I can only feel—enjoy. Serena calls out my name constantly into the pillows when I continue, along with what could be mistaken prayers to her Creators. Her writhing picking up speed with each new thrust.

The fire in my brands peak, burning like molten lava, flowing through my veins. Growing. Burning.

Searing.

Serena screams and clenches tight around me. The tingling pleasure too much.

My whole body contracts, releasing the suppressed eruption with a sense-scattering shudder.

A bright white light shoots across my eyes.

I lean forward into it, conceding to it. With it comes memories. Memories of a past I thought long forgotten. Of Varania and I arguing over toys together, when we were small. Danarius forcing the two of us to kneel beside another half-dozen slaves. The combat training sessions I endured with other young, warrior recruits, hoping to prove themselves.

All of their names, their significance, and our adjoining histories within arms grasp.

And then, they are gone.

In an instant.

I am returned to the present.

The fog in my mind and body lessens.

Panting, squinting, I struggle to keep holding myself upright, utilizing Serena's bare hips as leverage.

But exhaustion overcomes me. I collapse beside her on the mattress, my tingling, drained, sweaty limbs worse off than jelly.

"Well done." Zevran claps loudly from across the room, startling me from the confused daze. The sudden sound making me tense once again. "I must say, I'm rather impressed. Such passion, my friend!"

I scowl up at the still grinning Crow. Not certain if he's serious or trying to mock me. As he so often does.

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

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

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

"The fun is only just getting started."