[Warning!]
Hi guys! I just wanted to give you a little heads-up here. It was suggested that I leave a warning on any chapters that have content that might trigger my readers. This chapter has no explicit content, but the situation may make a few people uncomfortable. Please bare this in mind! Thank you very much!
.xxxiv.
Hawke counts down the days until the masquerade.
All the preparations have been made. A good deal of the guests have already arrived, filling the estate with noise and chaos. The slave quarters are even more cramped than before, and some sleep sitting up. With the time she has left, she watches every sunrise, listens to every birdsong, takes every breath of air, knowing they are among her last. If anyone has noticed the change in her, they do not comment, busy with the oncoming occasion.
She has already been fitted for her armor. When she had first laid eyes on it, her breath hitched. It looked so much like Fenris', for a moment she had thought the armor rack was him, a flash of white hair and vivid olive eyes just a trick of the light, a trick of her heart. She wades through everything with insulation, readying for the end.
Worse yet, she is given no work for the days leading up to the event, spending nearly every waking hour in Danarius' presence, 'resting', as per his order, though in truth she has just been elevated to the enviable status of his hand maiden, or something of the like. Even now she stands in his bedroom as he prepares for bed, focusing more on her thoughts that her surroundings. Apparently sensing this, Danarius speaks.
"You would make a terrible body guard. To not be aware of your environment means death for your master," he chides, relaxing into bed, drawing the light, ornamented blankets up to his waist, leaving just his bare chest visible. She pointedly ignores him, staying silent, also keeping in mind not to look at him.
A vase comes hurtling off some shelf at her, and instinctively, she jerks her forearms up, swinging out of the way just in time. It hits the wall behind her so hard the porcelain shatters, spraying her with ricocheting shards and dust. She keeps her arms up, on the offensive.
"Ah, so it seems you are more present than you seem. Wonderful. I do like lulling enemies into a false sense of security."
A trick. It takes a good deal of control not to pick up a vase of her own and hurl at him in return. She lets her arms down, resuming her statuesque stance at the foot of his bed, staring out a window at the star speckled night, aware of his every movement in her peripheral vision. He watches her intently. Just the sound of his breathing makes her want to grind her teeth so she prays silently.
'Maker give me peace and patience; Andraste guide my hand.' Perhaps her thirst for vengeance on this man is not as virtuous as she'd like, but the promise of his impending death is pleasing. It's keeping her going, anyway. 'Maker-' Why won't He answer her?
"My little bird," Danarius coos, and she presses her fingernails into her palms. "Come here and adjust my pillows."
It takes a beat, a second for her to swallow her repugnance, but does as she is told, coming around to his bedside and fluffing the cushions. Avoiding eye contact, focusing on the task and not how close she is to him, how far away she wishes she were.
'My Maker, know my heart; O Maker hear my cry,' she recites soundlessly. He reaches out and clamps his hand around her arm. She tries to yank back, but his grip is iron.
"I'm cold, little bird. Come warm me."
Her heart launches into her throat.
"Cold?" she repeats. "Well, I've certainly heard less believable lies from those hoping to get me into their beds." The wry jokes bursts forward from her lips, a force of habit in the face of what she fears.
He laughs, and yanks her down beside him onto the bed, smothering her in his arms. "Mm. You smell so nice," he presses his nose into her hair, loosing it from it's knot, pulling at the fallen locks roughly. She tries to sit up, to get away, but he holds her back, his copious rings clinking against the metal collar. His wandering attention turns to the small portion of her uncovered neck. "You're almost like him," he muses, holding her tighter as she struggles to get away. His hands move beneath the hem of her tunic with purpose, his eyes flashing with his intent. "Almost like him. So full of life, and fight." Why isn't her body responding to her commands? Why can't she fight him?
His fingers creep up over her raised ribs, tracing them to the spine, and the feeling of being touched after so long sends electricity through her very sinew. She hates how she reacts to the contact. But against her will, she gasps at contact. Her body responds, arching beneath him.
"Don't fight me," he croons, sliding his hands across the smooth skin of her back, "...too hard."
"Stop," she chokes out, the word barely a whisper. She is warring against him, trying to flee, to take his hands off of her, but she's trapped. A spell, she realizes, more blood magic.
"Smooth," he breathes, hot air heavy against her chest, "your skin is perfect for bruises." She has no idea what he's talking about but she wishes he'd shut up.
"And what are we hiding under here..." he questions, grinning up at her, sliding her clothes off-
"NO!" she screams, jerking away. She's not in the bed, not near him, she's where's she's been standing nearly all evening, still facing the twinkling stars. It's apparent she never moved. Danarius smiles as she turns, disoriented. "Lost in day dreams, little bird?"
She faces the window and bites down the angry words, trying not to shudder.
'The deep dark before dawn's first light seems eternal, but know that the sun always rises.' Encouragement, desperately needed, and she clings to the words.
It's not much longer now.
Author's Note: I can't even tell you guys how many times I jumped away from the computer while writing this. Yech! Danarius pls go away. But if I'm completely creeped out by it, then I'm doing my job right. I think.
AmberJF: That one chest at the beginning of the game always makes me wish I had chosen rogue, but story wise mage!Hawke is just much more fun. Yes! I'm pleased that you're enjoying it! And I apologize in advance for what's coming.
Avatarfann444: I love Fenris. He's my favorite. I always feel terrible for Anders because I know how much Hawke means to him, but I really can't resist that brooding elf. Ah yes! I surprised you! I surprised myself with that one, actually. This story has made a lot of changes and twists that I did not originally plan on. Thanks to you guys, in part!
Next up: Less creepy, I promise. The merry band begins their infiltration plan. Will they be able to rescue Hawke and get out unscathed? Stay tuned!