.xiii.
Hawke is not a patient woman. Never has been. It's one of the virtues she's never been able to grasp, not well, anyway. She does her best to pass the time as she waits for Danarius's decision, attempting to work her magic. More and more she is able to channel her power out, working around the restraints, but the effects are little and negligible. Thankfully, when she sleeps, she still walks the Fade. She looks for the dreams incarnations of those she knows, but she is isolated, somewhere foreign and dark. Probably the work of the collar.
When she can't push herself any farther, she roots around in the musty light of day for anything that she might be able to use as a weapon, in the event that Danarius' decision is not favorable. All she manages is a rusty nail, which breaks when she tests it against the thick metal plating of the loop holding her fast to the wall. She spends at least five minutes cursing her own stupidity, and finally settles back, counting and recounting the links in her mail. She's on the third count, number 374 when the door creaks open. She scrambles up and guards herself as Danarius appears on the stairs, carrying what appears to be parchment and quills.
"Awake? Shame, you're very entertaining to watch sleep." She resists the urge to spit on him, just watches as he situates himself on a crate, setting down the writing utensils beside him.
"I've considered you're offer."
Her breath hitches in her lungs. Not entirely trusting her voice not to waver, she speaks, low and controlled. "What have you decided?"
He grins, very obviously enjoying the limbo he is holding her in, shifting and clasping his hands like a man without a care.
"I gave it a great deal of thought. Fenris is quite a prize, you know. Powerful, skilled," he stares into her eyes as he smiles, lecherous and foul, "easy... on the eyes."
At her sides, her fists have curled, nails digging into her palms as she fights to remain calm and not lower herself to his level.
"But I find that you do well filling all those criteria. And your willingness undoubtedly adds to your bargain, not to mention the many, many political benefits that will come from claiming you. I have to wonder, before I come to my decision, though; why you would do this? As you said, he doesn't care for you."
Her jaw clenches involuntarily. His words grate against that raw, broken part of her heart like broken glass.
"That doesn't matter. Will you accept?"
"In a moment, little bird," he chides. His grating voice makes her grinds her teeth. "That's hardly an answer. I want to know why. Is it because you..." he tilts his head, rising from his seat, "love him?" He rises from his seat and approaches her.
"I-" she stops, power over herself suddenly lost, in a horrible familiar way. "I- I love him. I would do anything for him." Equal parts blood and desire. Just like Idunna, he's using blood magic on her.
"A useful spell, that one. Some hold too tightly their secrets. And how funny it is! My little Fenris actually found someone who doesn't see that he is little more than a glorified weapon, a toy for entertainment."
"He is not! He's-"
"What was it about him that grasped your heart? Was it that wonderful trick he can do with his-"
She launches at him, swinging her arms violently, his smug face just inches out of reach. The collar bites into her flesh but she struggles against it, swearing with so much venom even the most hardened of foul-mouths would blush. He doesn't even flinch, just watches with a grin as she bares her teeth, tearing at the air in front of him.
"You vile bastard!" she snarls. He laughs, lifting a hand and flicking his wrist, slightly, the weight around her neck turns to fire, scorching her skin with incredible heat. She screams, jumping back into the wall, clawing at the thing, tearing at it with all of her might, to no avail. Instinctively, she tries to freeze it, with no effect. Danarius just watches with a grin, malice sparkling in his eyes as she writhes and cries out in pain, trying to tear the metal from her neck, skin searing.
Finally, the agony stops and she sinks to her knees, panting, cradling her stinging fingers, though they show no evidence of burns.
"I like you, sweet, little bird. Such loyalty, and compassion. Answer my question, and I will give you my decision; What makes him worth more than your own life? What makes him worthy of your love?"
She doesn't want to give into him, doesn't want him to think for a second that he has the upper hand, but the undeniable truth is that he does, he hold all the cards, and has the advantage. He holds her life in his hands. And Fenris's as well.
"I don't know."
He raises his hand, threat of hot excruciating heat makes her heart seize with panic. "I don't know! I- Everything. He is..." she can't even understand it herself, much less explain it. "He's good. And kind and steadfast. He's smart, and he-he tries to do what is right. He tries to better himself, tries to rise above the poor hand he was dealt." He smirks at her words, but the humor doesn't reach his cold eyes. "More than that I can not explain. I- he-" she shakes her head, wincing at the lingering sting of the burns, "He is a great man. If anyone is worthy of love, it is he."
She internally writhes underneath his scrutinizing stare and silence.
"Interesting," he finally breaks the silence. She risks a glance at him.
"Surely even you know what it is to love."
He laughs, his most brittle and unsettling yet. "No. I do not. Love," he investigates his hands, summoning red energy to dance and twine around his fingers, "is weakness."
She almost pities him for this.
Almost.
"I accept your bargain," he states, red light disappearing. "You will come back to Minrathous with me, and will take your place as my slave." Her breath hitches in her chest. "In return, I will leave Kirkwall, and all of your friends in peace."
"Swear it," she demands, disregarding the vague horror emerging in her heart.
"In blood," he replies, gesturing to the papers he's brought with a graceful hand. A contract. He produces a blade, cool, elegant silver, inlaid with some opalescent gem tinged with crimson.
"You're hand, little bird."
She meets his eye, jaw set, assessing him. He is coolly neutral, a hint of something on his lips, inscrutable. Steeling herself and holding out her hand, she watches as he draws the blade over her left palm, so quick that the pain hits seconds after as her blood pumps up and out and runs through the creases of her skin, spilling onto the floor in it's abundance. He dips a quill into her blood, holding it to her for her to sign the paper, which she does not until she has read the short, but concise document, deeming it acceptable, all worded on the paper as they had agreed upon. He slices his own arm open between faded white scars with the practiced ease of one who has done it many times before, and signs his own name, handwriting ostentatious and aggressive looking. She remembers Fenris, hunched over her desk for hours, working on the same letters over and over, spelling his name, and hers...
"It is done. Now you belong, little bird." He looks giddy for the fact. "There is one last matter, however." He takes her hand and squeezes it until the blood runs into a small, clear vial. A phylactery, she assumes. "So you do not think to let go your end of the bargain, though you are far too honorable to do so, I'm sure." Bitterly, she wishes she wasn't.
Finally, he gives her some paper and another quill, one not soaked with blood, as well as an inkwell. "So to avoid the unwanted attention of your 'army', as you called it, you will write a letter telling them that you have left for your home country, as Kirkwall no longer holds anything for you. You will tell them not to pursue you, and that you wish nothing more to do with them."
As she writes the letter, she ignores the voice in her head that keeps telling her what a blighted fool she is.
Author's Note: The storm passed and my internet is back to normal! Not that I would have stopped posting even if it wasn't. I love you guys too much to keep you waiting long.
MidnightCarnival, I made you like Sebastian? Wow! That's great! You're right, he did have a lot of wasted potential. I think his writers just sort of got tired or something, and that's why he ended seeming like a whiny broken record. He deserved better. They all did, really. I'll never get over it.
In case I haven't said it; Amylianna, Annemarie01, Ariel Wild, DaleEmperorUltron, DarkAngelWings19, DreamsKill Reality, ElyssaCousland, Jcvbpickle, KC Pendragon, MazzieRoko, MidnightCarnival, Mithari, MmFlamerosemM, Narya's Bane, Please Insert Girder, Polker 91, Red Jeanie, Riona Fury, RuinsofGallifrey, Sebrijela, StarWarsPanda3000, Syola, TakableFirebird17, The Musketeers 29, Thedarklordnert, corsairr, lethian, shelby147, and last but not least veezy713, Thank you for encouraging me! This is all for you guys. And to those of you just lurking, I love you too.
Next up: a short one with our favorite Dalish elf and Pirate queen! Hawke is an idiot! Galahad will probably get stuck somewhere! Stay tuned!