AN: This is the beginning of the personal chapters for my DA2 stories. I loved writing as Fenris, and honestly it is so tempting to write the rest of Bitter Mana from his perspective...Anywho, I hope yall like this glimpse into my Fenris' head ^.^ Imoen's is still a work in progress, otherwise she'd be first but oh well...Enjoy!
Also, Fenris' chapter has a song behind it...it's actually his and Imoen's song: Howl by Florence+the Machine, go listen to it, it fits them so well! :D
It is a curse…this hate inside me. It's like a virus that has latched onto my brain and has now proceeded to grow and tangle itself about the rest of me. Sometimes if I close my eyes, I can feel it…spreading under my skin, following the markings I despise with every fiber of my being.
No…no I need to stop those thoughts, lest I start glowing. I'm almost as bad as the abomination…Maker my skin burns…every time I move, breathe…it pains me to the point of madness. I do not show it, keep it all inside because I have dealt with the pain all my life it seems, and so I have gotten used to it. I stretch out in my chair by the open window, trying to enjoy the sunlight against my skin. Kirkwall…is a lot warmer than Tevinter in many aspects. I close my eyes; maybe the pain is so bothersome because I haven't slept.
To think after all these years I ASKED for the markings…no, I COMPETED for them. I wonder if it was worth it. Apparently I did it to free my family, but…after what happened with Varania I suppose it wasn't.
I can hear the sounds from the street below…the random chatter of nobles as they pass Hawke manor. It is soothing in a way…Denarius' Mansion is so quiet, sometimes it gets to be too much like his tower in Tevinter and I have to go out and walk until I am calm.
I freeze as a new sound enters…footsteps. Soft, but still loud, the stride is sure…confident…strong…Hawke.
Her fingers comb through my hair as her mouth touches my ear. She kisses along my neck lovingly as I feel a ripple of power and soon her hands slide down my arms and it is the most beloved sensation I have ever felt…I have never told her just how pleasurable the spell is to me, but it erases all pain of the markings. I honestly do not realize how much agony they cause me until the pain is gone.
I can't help it…I moan…quite loudly.
"Mmmm…make that sound again please." She purrs in my ear, nipping the lobe gently.
I change my mind as I grab her waist, pulling her over my shoulder and into my lap. These markings were entirely worth it, every single bloody one.
. . .
She is back. Sitting by the fire with that damned staff across her lap, polishing it with an almost religious focus to her movements.
I have no idea why she visits so often…no idea why she insists on sitting on the hard stone floor, but she does.
Imoen Hawke, from the first moment I saw her, has proven to be one of THE most interesting and confusing individuals I have ever met.
She visits almost on a daily basis, first coming to the mansion a few weeks after helping me with the hunters. After that first night she has started coming regularly and for the life of me I cannot figure out WHY.
Most of the time we just sit in silence, her polishing her staff and me sitting in front of the fire sipping wine from my former master's cellar.
Her staff is a curious thing…golden, gleaming in the dim light of the fire. Most interesting is the curved top, the hook curling over what appears to be a naked woman's body. I had thought her to share the same personality as her other companion, a pirate named Isabela…but found after a night at the Hanged Man that the pirate's favorite game is coming up with such crude, sexual stories as to make her blush scarlet red. Her embarrassment at such talk makes the fact that she carries such a staff even more interesting. I want to ask…but then she might feel compelled to start questioning me and I avoid any opportunity for talking of my past like the plague.
I huff in annoyance, turning back to the fire.
"Something wrong?" She asks; her voice soft. She doesn't speak much…mainly sitting and watching while the others socialize and often when they do try to coax her into chatting she speaks so quietly we have to strain to hear her. This is in no small part due to her brother who takes every chance he can to knock her down a peg.
But Carver is not here and so her voice has dared to rise, startling me out of my mood. I look at her, delivering her somewhat of a glare, "Why are you here?" my voice is far harsher than I had intended and I am shocked to find guilt flood my chest when she flinches.
"I can leave…all you had to do was ask…"
"That's not what I said." I set my glass aside, "You are a mage…I have made it no secret that I do not like your kind and have spoken out against you and that abomination on countless occasions, yet you come here every evening…why?"
She meets my heated gaze and smiles…actually smiles, "You are not Carver." She says, "If I have to be around someone who hates me I'd rather it be someone who is quiet about it." She goes back to polishing the staff though it is already clean to the point of sparkling.
"You are honest…and you don't pry. You don't try to embarrass me or make me feel awkward…you do not bother me at all actually." She smiles again as she works, "It's nice…to be able to be myself without being judged, I mean I'm a mage…no matter what I do you can't possibly think less of me for it." The way she speaks of my supposed hatred for her…how unaffected she is by it, speaks volumes for how badly she has been treated…just for being born a certain way.
While I harbor no love towards her kind, I don't hate her. I actually find I'm upset that she thinks that. What is wrong with me?
"I don't hate you…" I find myself saying.
"But you said-"
"I said you were dangerous…I never said I hated you."
She drops her gaze to her staff, and I watch as her skin flushes pink from the tips of her ears all the way down her neck, "I'm…"The blush darkens, "glad to hear that…"
. . .
It is raining. I hate rain…
The water soaks into my armor and soon I feel as if I am swimming more than running. I reach Kirkwall as it begins to get dark and reward myself by slowing to a walk. I am already drenched, why add exhausted to the mix?
I shouldn't have yelled at her…shouldn't have shrugged away from her touch. Hawke didn't deserve it…she never deserves the anger I throw her way. The look on her face…as I pulled away…the pain was enough to cause my ribs to ache and that scares me almost as much as knowing I have a sister.
Hadriana…was she lying? I was confident in the caverns but now…now that I've had time to think I am unsure. This could all be a last resort trap to lure me to a location Denarius knows of to ambush me.
I growl at nothing in particular, causing the few people passing to give me strange looks. I glare back, unflinching as they hurriedly look away.
My heart still constricts at thoughts of Hawke…but why? Why does she haunt me so?
She is almost everything I hate…a mage, a powerful one at that…and she helps other mages. I almost lost it when she let that group of Starkhaven mages go…the blood magic corruption was so obvious I could taste it and yet she STILL lied right to the Templar's face and allowed them to escape. The abomination was positively beaming with admiration, showering her with praise and all I could do was keep silent and fantasize about his glowing face impaled on a spike.
She knew of my anger…even tried to talk to me about it, but like an idiot I brushed her off and simply seethed with my bitterness while they all moved on.
In all those moments she just gives me this tiny little smile…as if she knows what bothers me. Her patience with my temper is astounding, many times I have expected her to yell…scream…slap me, but she doesn't. A few times she has frowned, but nothing more.
I do not like being the cause of her frowning, it makes me feel…strange. Again though I have no idea why…
I think it is because out of all the companions I have met since meeting her…she is the one that has treated me with the utmost respect. Though I have never hidden my dislike for her kind she has never called me on it, not like the abomination. She has made it clear that she doesn't agree with me, but she respects my views and I have never had that…from anyone.
She also never orders me to do…anything. She asks…allows me to choose by adding the softest little "please?" after every command. It makes me feel…warm. Maker's breath what is happening to me?
I come to the door of what I think is Denarius' Mansion…but it's not…it's Hawke's.
Before I know what's happening I'm knocking on the door…
It opens, and all I see are silver eyes brighter than any full moon.
"F-Fenris?" Her eyes widen as she takes in my condition, "Sweet Andraste, Fenris!" She pulls me inside. I'm soaked to the skin and shivering, my teeth chattering as I stand in the entrance way.
. . .
I'm still trying to convince myself that I'm actually in Hawke's room…HER ROOM…
"I shouldn't be here…" I mumble, even though my body has decided to betray me by tightly wrapping the thick blanket around my slowly warming body. She has taken my soaked armor downstairs for Bodahn to clean.
"Fenris…" Why is it that when she says my name I smile?
I turn to see she's brought up food, nothing extravagant as I would have expected for a house like hers. It's just stew and a few slices of bread.
"I'm sorry the food is nothing impressive, but I figured you needed something warm more than fancy."
I do not respond…well, more accurately my stomach responds for me. She blushes, emitting a very small giggle that has me chuckling in response.
She sits next to me in front of the fire, pushing the tray of food towards me, "Would you like something to eat?" She asks me and I smile as yet again, she doesn't order me.
"Yes…" She sits with me as I eat, staring into the fire…
"You scared me…" She finally speaks and her voice is so quiet I almost think it's my imagination.
"I'm…sorry…" And I am…incredibly sorry…I want to beg her forgiveness…which is a new sensation for me.
"Where did you go?" She asks, her eyes finally finding mine, though she doesn't meet my gaze…looking slightly to the left of my face. She's blind again…
"Why did you stop seeing?"
She closes her eyes and draws her knees to her chest, "My mana…is low, usually I am forced to 'go dark' as my mother calls it at night, lest my mana completely drain…after all the fighting today, and the emotional trauma…I'm a bit weaker than usual." She shivers slightly and it is at that moment I realize she's just revealed a great deal more than she's comfortable with…that I'm hearing something she's let no one else know. I am…honored.
"I went nowhere in particular…" I begin, if she thinks me worthy of her trust I shall return it, "I needed to be alone…clear my head."
"That's understandable…" She muses, face turning back towards the fire, "Was she really so awful?" Her question isn't taunting as the abomination's was…she really wants to know.
"She tormented me often…denying me meals, hounding my sleep. When Denarius angered her especially…" My mind becomes a dark and twisted snarl of black memories and I don't realize that I'm speaking some of them aloud, ones I had vowed to never tell a soul…Before I can stop myself the darkest one slips out…and the feel of Hadriana's body against mine, her nails mercilessly clawing at my flesh slithers across my thoughts…I cringe and shut my eyes, smothering the horrid details far inside…I don't want to think about that…not with Hawke.
"Fenris…" She has tears in her eyes; though she didn't see my reaction…I'm somewhat thankful for that.
Her hands reach out, searching briefly before finding my knees and then I am in her arms. I am not upset…she is. Her tears drip down my shoulder, dampening my neck as she clutches me to her. She whispers how sorry she is against my skin and I shiver. This is the closest I have allowed anyone since my escape…never a handshake, never a clap on the shoulder…absolutely no physical contact…until now.
She stiffens at my reaction, flinching away as she blushes once again. I am beginning to like the sight of it. She returns to looking in the direction of the fire, neither of us saying anything. I'm not sure where to go conversation wise after admitting what I just did.
"What is it like?" I ask suddenly. Her head cocks to the side.
"What? Being blind?"
"Yes…if you don't mind my asking."
"You tell me those horrid details of your life and think I'll be offended by that question?" She stands, unsteady on her feet slightly before walking across the room. I watch her hands caress the furniture as she moves, feeling her way towards a chest of drawers. She touches many handles before finding the one she needs and pulls it open, rummaging through the fabrics inside until she pulls a scrap of red cloth out. She then makes her way back to me, sitting somewhat closer than before.
I eye her curiously as she sits down, "Can you find your way through this whole house or just your room in this condition?"
She smiles, "The whole house…it took me two days…two days of darkness and endless clumsy accidents but I can now find my way if I need to." Her strength astounds me…for I'd have let the fear and misery swallow me whole if I were in her place.
"Now, you asked me what it is like…to live without sight." She begins to fold the scrap of red cloth…
"It is hard to describe, but losing my eyesight has allowed me to see far more than most people. Everything else sharpens…every sensation becomes more…potent…more alive, does that make sense?" I nod, not really sure, but not wanting her to stop explaining.
She shudders and her eyes glow white, then she is looking at me…really looking at me, "Hi" She says softly.
I can't help the smile that stretches my lips as I realize she can see again, "Hello" I look down at the red band across her lap, "How does that spell work?"
"I honestly don't know…it's a permanent thing most of the time…it only stops when I am weak." Her eyes darken and her smile fades…I ache for its return, "That was how they knew I was a mage…I told my mother her dress was pretty."
"So you were born blind?"
"Yes."
"I am sorry."
She smiles again and the world rights itself, "Don't be…now here." She lifts the red band towards my face and it becomes a blindfold.
"Can you see?"
"No." I cannot imagine…living with this eternal black, it gives me chills.
"Okay…listen to the world around you." Her voice seems louder…the air around me gets colder. I hear the hiss and pops from the fire like thunder.
"Everything is loud…" I mumble and my voice seems deafening in my own head.
"Yes…it takes some getting used to." I hear her move closer, and soon she is right before me…
"Now…feel." I feel the carpet below me…the heat of her body so near mine. These things had escaped my notice before…but are now sharp and clear, as if someone has turned up the background sensations and noises to eclipse all else.
Suddenly her hands are on my forearms and it makes me jump.
"Do you understand now? Everything else comes into focus and you end up experiencing more than when you could see."
She is so close…I can feel her warm breath against me, her mouth must be inches from mine…it's too much…three years…I can't take it anymore…
She stiffens as my mouth finds hers, the kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated due to the fact that the blindfold is still in place, but soon she relaxes and cradles my face and I'm gone…lost to the sensation.
Her lips are warm against mine and so incredibly soft…her arms wrap around my neck as I pull her closer, until she is in my lap.
Her tongue dances with mine and I growl softly into her mouth, my hands snaking into her hair as I bite along her jaw and neck, it is not gentle…it's awkward and somewhat savage as I still can't see her…this soon causes me to growl in irritation.
She gives a low laugh in response and this sends a tingling warmth straight through me to my core as she unfastens the cloth, and soon I see her…
Her pale skin is flushed with desire, her moonlike eyes half lidded. Her luscious red lips are parted, somewhat swollen from kissing…
Her eyes then widen and we stare at each other…as if seeing the other for the first time.
"I…I…" She seems at a loss for words…somewhat dazed and I would be lying if I denied it didn't stroke my male ego to know it was I who caused her current state.
Her hand cups my jaw, her forehead is now against mine, "Are…you sure about this?" Her voice is frail, insecure…
I contemplate lying to her…telling her yes, without a doubt. In the end I've never lied to her…and I'm not about to start now.
"I'm not sure of anything anymore" I answer truthfully before I devour her mouth again.
I want to make it perfectly clear here…that if I had had any idea of what would occur during our joining…I would have never…Hawke is not a woman to be used…Alright, I don't know what would have happened differently, or even if I would have changed it…the only reason I entertain the thought now is because my one regret was not of being with her…it was of causing her pain. Pain she never deserved…I was a fool…a coward, and I harmed us both far more than I should have.
. . .
I feel sick…ill…I wish to vomit.
The rain has stopped, but instead of being happy about it I mourn its loss, the sunlight just feels…wrong.
My body aches for her warmth, just as sorrow invades my soul. I shouldn't have…shouldn't have done that. Should never have allowed her so close for now I've destroyed something beautiful and I hate myself for it.
There is the irritating itch of fabric rubbing against my markings and I look down at my wrist. It was a stupid, foolish sentimental desire…to keep something of that night, but the red cloth was there…right on the floor where she'd tossed it…and I just took it without thinking. It was a tool used to understand her better…
I'm not really sure why it is now wrapped around my wrist, but I can't remove it.
. . .
"Orana…" the young girl jumps at my voice, spinning around to face me.
"Master Fenris! I didn't see you there…"
"I am no master Orana, I was once a slave just as you were, please stop calling me that."
"O-okay…did you need something?"
It is stupid…I am stupid, I shouldn't be doing this…but I doubt Hawke knows enough of Tevinter slave culture to understand this gesture…Orana however does.
"I need…" I struggle to voice my request, "I need an Amell crest…"
Orana gives me a puzzled look, "A crest, what for-" Her eyes go wide, "Oooohhh…" She smiles in understanding before gesturing for me to wait outside.
In Tevinter…there are a few households where a Master and a slave will form a bond. They become close…and to show this relationship status the slave will wear the master's House Crest along with whatever favor they have been given. This can be anything from jewelry to…well…to a simple red scarf.
I figured I already have the crimson shackle, why not make it official?
"Here you go!" She startles me out of my thoughts, holding the small metal shield like symbol out to me; it is about as large as my palm. The red crest glares up at me as I attach it to my belt, "Thank you Orana…please do not tell her about this?"
Her wide green eyes grow wider, "Why ever not Mast- Fenris?"
"Please…just don't tell her."
The girl nods, "I will keep it to myself Serah." She bows slightly before returning into the house.
And now here I am…standing before her as we prepare for a job, watching as her eyes widen at the crest, before her gaze settles on the scarf…those orbs of liquid moonlight fill with tears and she bites her lower lip…before turning to Varric.
She catches the significance…but doesn't know the full meaning. I hope it is enough to let her know…this…this was not her fault.
. . .
I have never considered the mages' plight, never once tried to see things from their side. I have viewed them with bitterness and hatred for all my life and had no desire to see life through their eyes…that was…until I fell in love with one.
We are at the Hanged Man when it happens…a surprise raid on the tavern; Meredith has been cracking down even harder on this city, convinced Blood Mages are everywhere.
The room is flooded with the holy knights, and Imoen shivers at my side. Things would be fine if it weren't for her blind eyes…the magic needed to keep her seeing will most certainly alert them. They can sense magic from great distances…
I do not think, do not plan…I just run. I grip her to me and dash out of that room as if it were the fiery pits of hell.
This was a mistake for I do not know the layout of the Hanged Man as I should, and I ran into the back rooms…not the exit.
We find a vacant hall closet and I throw us into it, slamming the door shut just as I hear the thuds of templar boots ascend the stairs.
Imoen is shaking…crying…whispering her fear. Her eyes are frantic as she looks at me, "Don't let them take me…I don't want to leave you…please don't let them take me…" She's panting now, out of breath and it sounds like she can't get enough air, "I don't want to go…I don't want to go Fenris…please don't let them take me!"
I pull her to me, pressing her face into my shoulder, mainly to comfort her, but to also stifle her sobs…
"Imoen Hawke…listen to me." I murmur as quietly as possible, she stills at the commanding tone in my voice, "I promise you…with every fiber of my being…to do everything in my power to keep you free. They will not harm you, nor take you anywhere…I will rip out all their hearts first." My voice trails off into a feral growl in her ear and her grip on me tightens.
I am conflicted. Knowing that the main reason for the templars is a good one, but the fear in my Imoen's eyes…and yes, she is MINE…but that fear, I have seen it before…in the eyes of every new shipment of slaves brought to House Denarius.
Mages are chained just as much if not more than I…and I never realized this until now.
I will never admit this to anyone aloud…and I know it makes me a hypocrite, but I take back every hateful insult I have ever spat at the abominatio- at Anders. I take it all back as I hold her trembling form to me…kissing her softly and whispering in Tevinter until the templars move on.
. . .
I ache…
Maker my bones are screaming in agony and it is all I can do to hold back the cries of pain and suffering…
I hate war hammers…any blunt weapon really, blades are much easier to handle and recover from. Those Wounded Coast bandits…they don't seem to like swords…
I strip myself of my dented and ruined armor, examining my lyrium tainted flesh to find the white lines marred by dark bruises…so dark they are almost black. They stretch from low on my hip all the way up my torso, branching out over my heart. Just seeing them makes me groan.
I try to stand straight and howl in pain, clutching my ribs as I fall to my knees.
"Fenris!" Oh that voice…how I adore that voice…
She finds me, curled up in pain before the fire and falls beside me, lifting my chin until I can look at her, "Why didn't you say anything you foolish elf?"
I force myself to smile through the pain, "Didn't want to worry you…"
Imoen scoffs and delivers one of her harshest glares, though in all honesty it is as effective as a kitten hissing…more adorable than frightening.
She moves me, turning me until my back is against her chest, her legs on either side of my waist.
"What are you doing?"
"Hold still please, Fenris…" Her palms glow white as she runs her hands down my chest…I shiver slightly at the contact, feeling desire begin to stir…
My skin burns and it is both soothing and painful as she mends my ribs, soon I can breathe easily, and even stand upright again. As we straighten I turn and wrap her in my arms, kissing her forehead.
"I can't heal the bruises…cuts yes…but not bruises. I'm still learning…"
I look down at her and smile, "I don't feel them…"
"Oh?" She smiles before her lips touch my neck, my hands slide down her shoulders to rest at the small of her back as her lips trail down my chest…Imoen placing the softest kisses on each dark blotch on my skin.
"What are you doing?" I ask hoarsely, the softness of her lips is driving me insane.
She looks up at me as her mouth hovers above my abdomen, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she licks her lips, nuzzling my stomach, "Kissing it and making it better." She purrs.
. . .
The harsh slap against my chest is what wakes me…it takes a moment to realize she is screaming. Her body flails and writhes against the mattress…she's caught in the deepest of nightmares…
Her high pitched keening wails echo around the room and for a moment I am frozen in place…unsure of what to do.
She screams again, her back arching off the bed with the strength of her cries and I lose it.
"IMOEN!" I cry as I hold her down, my face right above her own, our noses touching. She does not respond and I realize with a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach what I must do.
The slap delivered is harsh and her face whips to the side…I hate myself…
Her eyes snap open and she cries out again, but this time I am there.
"Shh…shhhh I'm here…" My hands cradle her face; I cringe as her cheek turns red in the shape of my hand.
"Fenris?" She whimpers. I press my lips to her forehead, my free hand pulling her flush against me.
"I'm here Imoen, right here…" I don't know what else to say…she's never dreamed like this…
She buries her face in my neck and cries, heart wrenching broken sobs and all I can hear out of them is one word…'Momma.'
I close my eyes and kiss the top of her head as she clings to me, shivering all over.
I do my best to comfort her…making sure she knows she isn't alone, I never knew my mother…all memory of the woman erased by the markings. I do not know what to say to Imoen…
I had thought these nightmares were done…but it seems I was wrong, though it has been three years since her mother's death she is still haunted by it.
"Fenris…" She sobs, clutching me even tighter. I realize she doesn't need words…doesn't need comforting expressions like 'death is only a journey'…she needs me, just me.
It's nice to be needed.
. . .
The battle was horrendous…so much blood…all of us are still soaked with it.
We are running, fugitives following a terrorist…I have to struggle to bite back the bitter words sticking in my throat, Imoen would not appreciate them.
No I am not upset at Anders because of his magic…I am scared for Imoen. We are on the run again…and I don't know if I can protect her from this…her kind has just waged war on the beings of order and reason throughout Thedas. How can I defend her from a war?
I do not want this for us…I do not want to be on the run again…not with my Imoen, she doesn't deserve to be a fugitive, she deserves to be a queen…
Still we run…aiming to put as much distance between ourselves and Kirkwall as we can before nightfall. She is heavy in my arms but I do not care…she is safe for now and she is free of templar hands.
My heart was in my throat the entire time Cullen kept us at the Gallows…
"Fenris…" she whispers to me, her lips briefly touching my neck.
I answer in the softest of Tevinter endearments and she smiles, "I love you…" She murmurs against my skin.
That one statement puts it all back into perspective for me…we will be fine…I'll make sure of it. She will not fall prey to this war, the abomination can handle that himself…no Imoen will be safe with me even if we have to hide underground.
"I love you too Imoen."