Chapter 7

The first thing he heard as he awoke were the harsh, hissed tones of a whispered argument in a language Fenris did not understand.

Then, he nearly hissed himself as he became aware of the acidic, burning pain in his left shoulder, left untended. Keeping his eyes closed, he listened further: a drip of water hitting stone, and the humid, dank quality of the air suggested he was underground, as did the cool, damp stone against his back. His hands were bound above him, and he resisted the urge to wriggle the numbness out of his fingers. He had precious little time before his captors, whoever they were, realized he was awake.

He reached into the Fade…

…and the Fade stayed silent. He shuddered as he felt the glow of his markings sputter out.

It was then that footsteps signaled someone's approach and a booted foot hit his thigh.

"Good, you're finally awake," a familiar voice said, a hint of cruel amusement in his tone. Fenris blinked his eyes open.

A pair of spectacles caught the dim torchlight, and the leader of the Aurum Company, Aedan Cadash's, wily gaze met Fenris' own.

"I admit, I don't generally involve myself directly in cleaning up the Company's messes, but you, Fenris, have piqued my curiosity."

Fenris did not reply, in favour of glancing around the chamber to count the people within. Aside from Cadash, there were two rogues, seated at a table and likely those that had been arguing, as well as Cadash's entourage of an elven archer, a robed mage, and a tall man with a rather nasty-looking maul.

Another archer stood at the entrance to the chamber, looking intently at the interaction that was taking place.

Cadash noticed his eye movements and crossed his arms with a sigh. "Your efforts are futile, I'm afraid. I make it a priority to know the weaknesses of my contractors."

He gestured to the mage, who knelt to place a cool hand on Fenris' bare chest. He flinched away, stomach dropping in horror. No, he thought desperately, no, please, anything but—

He had not forgotten the feeling of a mage drawing power from the lyrium under his skin. Danarius had required this particularly cruel service many times, before duels against more powerful opponents, after particularly taxing displays of magic performed at assemblies of the Magisterium, and, on more than one occasion, to impress guests at the parties at the Minrathous villa. Though this mage was significantly less powerful than the magister, it still felt like his veins were being yanked out through his fingertips and shattering from cold at the same time.

Once it was over, Fenris sagged wordlessly against the wall. He turned to the side and vomited. The mage got up, looking at Fenris with a mix of disgust and fascination. Cadash looked satisfied.

Now, Fenris spoke. "If you're going to kill me…"

Cadash barked a laugh. "Kill you? No, my friend, as much as our mutual associates," inclining his head towards the pair of men at the table, "would love to see it be so, our client has requested you alive. To see who caused all that trouble in the College, that is."

It dawned on him. The men had been arguing in Antivan. Crows. Associates of the Benicio he had killed in Estwatch, most likely. And the client… the Blind Men would not have taken kindly to the Company botching such an important job, dealing with such an important patron as these Venatori. And Blind Men would have contacts amongst the Crows, who might have guessed that the problems with both of their slave shipments might stem from the same place...

He was, as Varric would say, in deep shit.

The smile fled from Cadash's face now. "I must tell you, I take no pleasure in this. However, I am a businessman, and in my business, the customer is always right. So, beyond the physical means I have employed to ensure your cooperation…"

Fenris held his breath as the dwarf trailed off and gestured to the archer, now, who left the chamber through an opening Fenris had not noticed.

He returned, moments later, dragging a wan, bruised Maresi by the arm.

She glared at Fenris hatefully, and his heart filled with guilt.

"She has no part in this," he spat. "Let her go."

The dwarf shrugged. "We will. As soon as you are collected by the Venatori."

The archer bound Maresi's arms and attached her bindings to a metal loop bolted into the wall some ways away from Fenris. Cadash started walking towards the guarded entrance, along with his protectors, and called over his shoulder, "I suggest you get comfortable. We did not expect to catch you off-guard so quickly."

Adding insult to injury, Fenris thought, but he had more pressing concerns.

"Maresi, I'm so—" he whispered urgently at her, but her glower stopped him before he could continue.

"I'm fucked, you know that, right?" she hissed, eyes narrow and dark. "They didn't cover my head when they brought me here."

Fenris was filled with horror. "They will not let you go."

"No," she said simply, resigned. "Thanks for the interesting end to my life, I guess."

He couldn't let this happen. An innocent woman who had helped him, been a friend, even, to be murdered, or worse, sold to the Venatori, whoever they were, because of him. "No, no, I'll get you out of here. I will," he insisted, in response to her skeptical look. "I've escaped worse situations," he added darkly.

"Oi," yelled the archer by the door. "Shut up, knife-ears!"

Maresi bristled but said nothing. Fenris followed suit. His arms were really starting to ache. It was true, he had gotten out of worse situations before, but none without Hawke, not recently, or where someone else's life hung in the balance.

"When I regain my strength," he tried again, "call for water, and I'll…"

The other elf shook her head hopelessly and turned away.

Fenris took to standing in place, and no one protested. Nor did his captors loosen his restraints. The blood slowly came rushing back into his hands, painfully at first, then satisfyingly since he could now move his fingers. The pain in his shoulder where the arrow had struck him, evidently laced with some kind of poison, eventually dulled to more of a throbbing ache that burned when he moved it. He was brought water when he asked, though any attempt he made to phase through his shackles was made impossible by the frequent draining of his lyrium by Cadash's mage, which left him jittery and retching.

The Crows, with their lithe, feline movements and haughty sneers, approached him at one point, addressing him in their accented Common. "Pathetic," one of them said. "I told you Benicio was soft." Fenris didn't answer. He'd have ripped out their hearts just as easily in a fight. He'd do it right now, if not for the mage in the corner.

Maresi continued to ignore him, sitting on the ground knees to her chest, barely covered by the shift she had been wearing to sleep. She shivered, reciting verses from the Chant, and Fenris wished desperately that he could take it all back, that he should have never met a friendly stranger named Yevin passing through the Old Yard, and that he should have never acted so rashly in the wake of the news of Hawke's death. His grief, his rage, and now this woman was going to die by no fault of her own.

Fuck.

At least he had gotten the letter to Varric. The dwarf would know that Fenris didn't hate him before he disappeared for good, though he'd written too late for hope of a rescue. His, and Maresi's, only chance was if the mage forgot to absorb the power from his lyrium.

Fenris' chance came when the two Crows started playing diamondback, after he and Maresi had been given some stale bread to eat and their guards had supped as well. The mage, sitting on an old chair by the fire and polishing his staff, was clearly bored, and had started sending sidelong glances to the Antivans. Eventually, after the mage had pointed out enough times how he would have played a hand, the other men let him join in on the game.

Fenris felt energy start to fill his limbs once again.

Someone produced a flask of spirits, and the evening turned to night, if Fenris' internal clock was to be trusted. It had now been several hours since the mage had taken power from Fenris' markings, and he and the other men had finished the flask, falling into a relaxed camaraderie. He had even spotted a chest where his things might have been hidden; he would get no better chance than this.

"Mage," he called suddenly, startling Maresi. "Please, could I get some water?"

The mage grunted in annoyance but stood, unsteadily. He walked out through the side entrance Maresi had been led in through, and returned with a metal cup and a pitcher of water. The man was so close, but Fenris was careful, waiting to activate his markings when he was sure he could reach through the shackles and into the mage's chest.

The opportunity never came. Aedan Cadash burst through the front door to the chamber. Following closely behind was a tall, dark-haired woman, wearing scarlet robes in the Tevinter style and attended to by two bodyguards in plate mail. Fenris' breath hitched; he froze in place. The insignia on her robes marked him as an altus, at the very least. She was brought to stand in front of Fenris.

"This is he, messere. Apologies once again for your trouble. We thought it unwise to risk transporting him."

The altus brought a gloved, delicate hand to her chin; dark eyes assessed him as a serpent would its prey. He didn't remember having seen her in Minrathous and thus couldn't place what family she belonged to. Perhaps she was a younger daughter of a family with a seat on the Magesterium.

"It would do for you to vet your people more carefully, serah Cadash. News out of Kirkwall, the recent writings of…"

She snapped her fingers at her slaves. One of them supplied, "Varric Tethras, domine."

"Yes, Tethras, places him," she pointed now to Fenris, "as the Champion of Kirkwall's lover, and slave of magister Danarius Salvus."

The struggle must have washed off the paint that Benjamin had so judiciously applied. Anger hardened within him, and Fenris couldn't help himself. "I am no slave, magister," he spat.

She laughed and stepped forward to lightly trace the markings on his arms. He winced and flinched away. "That is for the Magesterium to decide. And you shall address me as domina, slave."

Fenris narrowed his eyes. "I will do no such thing." In that moment, all he wanted was to phase through the shackles around his wrists and rip out the mage's heart. A lifetime ago, he might have, but he thought about Maresi, whose eyes had gone huge at the altus' description of who Fenris was. He thought about the number of men ready to cut him down as soon as he lifted a hand against the altus, he with no sword of his own. He thought of Felissa, who would have wanted him to find a way to survive. He released the tension in his fist.

Then, a sound rang out, something between the sting of metal on metal and a thunderclap. Fenris' ears popped, and he was thrown against the wall, back of his head colliding painfully with a jutting stone as he crumpled to the ground, hands still bound above him. Vision swimming, he could see that the altus, Cadash, and the rest of the warriors in the room had fared similarly, all knocked to the floor by some invisible force. A little smugly, he saw that the Tevinter mage had broken her nose and was clutching at it as the blood streamed down her face. Not too smugly, because he didn't know whether whoever was attacking them was friend or foe.

He would find out soon enough, as the attackers in question stepped into the chamber through the front door. He struggled to his feet as he watched the archer by the door blindly reach for his bow that had fallen to the floor. A spear was plunged into his chest before he could even lay a finger on the weapon. The Tevinter mage and Cadash tried to get up as well, but before they were able to, magic Fenris didn't recognize formed what could only be described as a green hole in the ceiling in the middle of the chamber. Its purpose was made clear as soon as Fenris felt a sharp yank of his body in its direction; only his quick thinking in phasing through the shackles saved his wrists from breaking with the force. Curiously, while he remained in the strange place between the Fade and the waking world that only he could access, the strange magic did not affect him, instead hurtling everyone else in the room towards the green hole in the air other than Maresi, who he managed to shield by sprinting in front of her in his phased form. The newcomers, who he recognized as fellow elves by their flowing style of armour and robes, surrounded the rather unceremonious pile of moaning Crows, mercenaries, and Tevinters alike, bows and daggers drawn. Fenris phased back in and grabbed a dagger that someone had dropped, quickly working on Maresi's bonds. The five elves appeared not to notice him, opting instead to go about roughly binding their captives' hands and feet with what looked to be shining metal rope. All but the Tevinter mage were gagged.

The elf with the spear, clothed in intricate leather armour, forced the now-kneeling altus to lift her head by jabbing its tip against her throat. Gone was the easy confidence of a mage that knew her own power and influence. Replacing it was the base fear of an animal caught in a trap.

"The artifact," spoke the elf, his voice a cool baritone, eyes shining fervently. "You know where it is." It was not a question.

"I don't, I swear," she began blubbering, tears streaming down her face to join with the blood from her nose. "Araris had it and they hid it and I don't know where, please…"

The elf ignored her whimpering and turned behind him to a mage dressed in beautiful, flowing robes, the like of which Fenris had never seen before. "The dreams?"

The mage shrugged. "Inconclusive."

The altus, crying and struggling against her bonds, choked out a strangled, "Please…"

Her cry was cut off by the spear plunging under her chin.

The elf removed it with a disdainful look and took a moment to retrieve a cloth from his waistband and wipe the spearhead.

"Who are the rest of these people?" he asked his company.

One of the elf women with a bow and sporting vallaslin kicked Cadash in the shin, who grunted with pain and tried to clutch at it in vain. "This one here's Aedan Cadash. Aurum Company head, in Cumberland. Might not be involved directly, but he's a connection."

The elf with the spear hummed but appeared undecided. He was clearly their leader. "And him?" He gestured to the tied up Crows. The elf holding a bow to the Crow's neck spoke up. He wore vallaslin as well. "Don't recognize him specifically, but the armour's Antivan Crow. So is his," he murmured, pointing to the other Crow. He reached down to tear off one of their vambraces. "House of Nero, if I remember my Talons correctly."

"Inconsequential. Kill them," indicated the elf leader. Curiously, he had no vallaslin, and appeared taller and more muscular, with a prouder slant to his brow, than other elves Fenris had seen in the South. Much like Fenris himself. The man with the expertise on Antivan Crows obliged, drawing a dagger across both of the assassins' throats in quick succession. They died without a sound.

The elf leader turned finally to the two slaves, whose eyes betrayed their abject terror. Perhaps they had anticipated one day needing to die for their mistress but hadn't thought the time would come so soon. "And these?"

Fenris, who had been crouching, very still, next to Maresi, her hand gripping his forearm painfully, could not help but speak. "They're slaves," he replied. "Innocent of their mistress' crimes." Maresi's eyes screamed bloody murder at him but she remained silent. He could almost hear her internal supplications for him to please shut the fuck up.

Instead he stood to meet the gaze of the elf leader. "Is that so?" he asked, a curious quirk in his brow. "And are slaves always innocent of their master's crimes, Fenris?"

Somehow, Fenris was unsurprised that yet another mysterious elf knew his name and history. "Yes," he said simply.

The leader sighed, and indicated to his companions, "Very well. Relieve them of their weapons and free them." One of the other elves did so, and the former slaves, Fenris supposed, high-tailed it out of the chamber and into the darkness. Cadash was left to lay quietly on the floor, clearly cognizant of the arrow pointed at this forehead.

"I am Aronhala'an," the elven leader said, walking towards Fenris and Maresi. "You may call me Aron. And you are…?" he asked, gesturing to Maresi.

"Leverage. Against me. She knows nothing," cut in Fenris, stepping in front of her.

Aron raised his hands gracefully, as if in surrender. He had strapped his spear to his back. "I meant no offense. We do not intend to keep her, nor you, captive." Fenris sighed in relief, shoulders relaxing, though the promise could be empty. Aron continued. "I admit, however, I did not expect for our first meeting to come so early."

Ah. The note. Satinalia. The mysterious "friend" he was to meet.

"Speak, then," Fenris offered, crossing his arms.

The elf shook his head. "Not now. We will free your companion first, conclude our business in this place. And perhaps find your clothes," he added, looking meaningfully at the markings on Fenris' bare chest. He scowled in return.

Aron then turned to Maresi and said, kindly, "You are welcome to stay with us as long as you like. We have a compound outside the Alienage. No one will bother you, and we have a healer."

She did not speak but nodded gratefully. Fenris avoided meeting her gaze, knowing that any healing that she required was because of him. Instead, he walked over to the trunk he had suspected housed his stripped belongings; he was correct and set about the task of getting dressed again. The elves of Aron's company similarly searched the chamber and the adjacent room, in which Maresi had apparently been held.

He winced at the pain in his shoulder as he tugged on his shirt. Suddenly, he felt his skin tingle in the way that it did when a magic user approached. He turned, and the elven mage was behind him. She, like Aron, did not have vallaslin, but did not carry herself like a city elf, or like a former slave. Her mannerisms reminded him of Merrill. She looked at him as if he were a colourful bird, with a mixture of pity and fascination.

"You are hurt," she stated in lilting, accented Common, pointing to his shoulder. These elves weren't fans of asking questions, it seemed.

"It's nothing," began Fenris, but the mage shook her head.

"I can heal. Your body…" she trailed off, as if trying to find the words. "It does not like the poison."

Fenris chuckled at that. "I daresay not."

She didn't seem to know what to do with his laughter. "Yes. Can I… fix it?"

Fenris frowned but acquiesced, aware that whatever poison Cadash's men had used would slow recovery significantly without magical aid. She gingerly placed her hands on the place where the wound was on his shoulder. He felt a warmth spread out from her palms, followed by a feeling of comfort. Her healing… it felt like Anders', by far the most talented healer he had ever encountered, but even the abomination had sparked some discomfort whenever his magic penetrated Fenris' markings. This mage's healing touch seemed to either avoid, or otherwise softly melt into, the lyrium under his skin, and the sensation was even satisfying, as if he was scratching an itch that he didn't know he had.

The mage removed her hands. "It is done," she stated, voice soft and melodic. Aron was watching them. She waved for him to come over.

Perplexed, Fenris thanked her, and resumed his dressing. Aron came to meet the mage, who tugged on his arm to whisper in his ear. The tall elf smiled sadly.

"Ladarawen is still learning your Common tongue. But she would like you to know that you were not meant to bear this burden," Aron said quietly, indicating the markings on Fenris' chin.

Fenris finished fastening the dagger around his hip and furrowed his brow. "What does she mean?"

"In due time, Fenris. In due time."

At that, Aron went to inspect the altus' pockets, and Ladarawen floated off towards Maresi, who didn't seem to know what to do, even when her dress and other belongings were found in another room and brought to her. Fenris watched from across the room as the mage softly said something to her and fresh tears sprung forth in Maresi's eyes; she turned away. Ladarawen then placed one hand on Maresi's lower belly, and another on her upper back. Maresi seemed to relax into the gesture, and the mage whispered something as a warm white glow of magic emanated from Ladarawen's hands. Once the healing was finished, Maresi leaned into the other woman's embrace, tears streaming in earnest. Fenris looked away; he felt as if he had observed something very private.

Aron was preoccupied reading a letter he had retrieved from the Tevinter mage's robes. He didn't know yet how to feel about this chance meeting, or whether he could even trust these elves, but for now, no one was stopping him and Maresi from leaving, and their mage had healed him out of what seemed like kindness. Fenris looked at the lifeless form of the altus derisively as he approached the tall leader.

"Who was she?"

The elf looked up from the parchment. "Adria Praetorius. Youngest daughter of Magister Augustus Praetorius. I wonder what her dear father would think of her dalliance with the Venatori."

Fenris knew Praetorius. As far as members of the Magesterium were, he was a consummate politician and rather practical, a characteristic that Danarius had often complained about.

"And who are the Venatori, exactly?"

Aron turned to look at him seriously. "Cultists that would see the world drown in fire and blood. But they," he added, folding up the letter and putting it in a pocket attached to his belt, "are not our concern. We help where we can, of course, but the Inquisition is more than equipped to handle the Venatori and their hapless leader. No, our purpose is more singular."

His words had done little to clarify Fenris' confusion, but they would have to do for now. Aron clapped his hands, and the rest of his company congregated around him, Maresi trailing a few paces behind Ladarawen. "Anything to report?"

The Dalish archer who had identified Cadash stepped forward, holding a stack of papers. "Correspondence, Aron. Might be something useful here."

The leader plucked the papers from her hands and rolled them into a tight bundle. They went into the same pocket as before.

"Thank you, Seri. Anyone else?"

A chorus of no's and shaken heads went around the circle. Then, the Antivan Crow expert asked, pointing to Cadash, "What are we doing with him?"

Aron studied the man, as if he hadn't decided yet himself. "Truly, I do not know. We'll take him back to the compound. I will write the Hahren and he can decide."

So this group was not, in fact, led by Aron, but answered to someone else, this Hahren.

Ladarawen raised her hand politely, and asked, "And Fenris and Maresi will join, yes?"

The group looked expectantly at Fenris. He watched Maresi, who gave him a short, sharp nod.

He nodded in turn, wondering, not for the first time in his life, what it was he was agreeing to.