Fenris had to admit, this fortress that the Inquisitor had built was an impressive one. The stone walls were undoubtedly ancient but bore signs of recent repair. Most of the army camped along the frozen river far below Skyhold, but the hold itself was full of agents and warriors, ready to act upon a moment's notice.
As eager as he was to find this Inquisitor and shake answers from her, Fenris was no fool. This task would need to be approached very carefully. One wrong move could end him in prison. One very wrong move could end him, period.
The tavern, Herald's Rest, ended up not being as helpful as he'd hoped. The bartender had been more than happy to chat about the Inquisitor's heroic deeds; surviving the Conclave blast, sealing the massive breach in the sky, facing a darkspawn magister, derailing an assassination plot on the empress of Orlais, and surviving yet another physical visit to the Fade. She had just recently returned from a trip to the Arbor Wilds, according to the barkeep, and was spending some time recuperating before the Inquisition launched its final attack upon Corypheus.
"You've arrived at a tumultuous time, my friend," the dwarf rumbled. "Things are gettin' very exciting 'round here, very exciting indeed. I bet if you talk to the commander, he'd put you in the army here. Ancestors know we could use the extra sword."
"I'll keep that in mind," Fenris replied. "One last thing, do you know where I can find the Inquisitor? It's very urgent that I speak with her right away."
The dwarf's brow furrowed. "Ya know, that's a good question, actually," he said slowly. "Usually the Inquisitor will spend time gettin' in touch with all her companions when she returns from an outing, especially a big one like this, but I haven't seen her for a few days. It ain't likely she went out again so soon, especially considerin' the big fight comin' up. Try askin' those folks she usually goes out with, like that storyteller, Varric. They're close buddies, come in here for drinks sometimes."
Fenris thanked the man and left, mulling over the information he'd gathered. He would confront Varric, certainly, but not until after the Inquisitor had been dealt with. He didn't want her being tipped off.
The stories circulating about this woman were impressive tales indeed, if even half had any truth to them. And yet, he still hadn't found out what he needed to know: where he could find her.
Thankfully, it didn't take too long to find some servant who told him which door in the main hall led to the Inquisitor's quarters. Fenris waited to enter until the rest of the room was briefly empty.
When he approached the door, however, he found it flanked by a guard on either side.
"I need to speak with the Inquisitor," he said.
"Not possible," one guard said.
"Her Worship is resting after the assault in the Arbor Wilds," the other added. "We're under strict orders from the commander to not allow anybody to bother her."
"Try again tomorrow, if it's so important," the first guard suggested. Then they both stared straight ahead, conversation over.
Fenris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Yet another setback. But he had come this far, and he was not about to let two guards and one hundred paces separate him from a chance to get Hawke back safely.
It didn't take long for the shadows to lengthen and for evening to claim the hold. Torches sprung to life at regular intervals along the walls, and activity everywhere quieted to a hush. The guard patrols walked by every few minutes, and a few crickets chirped lazily from the bushes.
A shadow rose from where it had been crouched on a bedroll by the surgeon's tent. It moved quickly and quietly up into the main hall, empty apart from a single sleepy guard still standing by the door to the Inquisitor's quarters. Fenris briefly considered taking him out silently, but decided against it. He decided against attempting to sneak past him, as well. He would stick with his original plan, which he'd come up with while waiting for night to fall.
He crept out into the hold garden, whose only occupant was a chantry sister kneeling and praying at the feet of a statue of Andraste. He slipped past her and ascended a set of stairs which led up to the walkway above the garden.
Fenris had to crane his neck to stare up at the tower which held the Inquisitor's quarters. He could faintly see torchlight flickering from the stained glass windows, and his stomach clenched. She's in there, he thought. No sense for a torch to be lit if nobody's home. As he watched, the light flickered out.
He laid his palm against the wall, letting the tips of his clawed gauntlets scrape against the stone. The grooves between the giant stones were enough to get his fingertips and toes into, certainly, but it would be a noisy ascent with his armor. He fiddled with the straps on his gauntlets until they loosened enough to slip off, and he tied them securely to his belt. He gripped the stone, testing if it would hold his weight without any wobbling, and set off up the side of the tower.
Fenris cursed whoever had originally built the hold. Why anybody needed one specific room to be twenty meters higher than the rest of the place, he would never be able to guess.
For several minutes, the only sound was the soft breeze and his own breathing. He had plenty of stamina, it came with being a warrior as well as being on the run for his life for the past too many years, but after a while of agonizingly slow progress he found his fingers and toes cramping, and felt a stitch developing in his side.
He found himself thanking whatever gods were listening that he had put on a hooded cloak. His silvery white hair would be a dead giveaway if the moon decided to peek out of the clouds like it was threatening to. Similarly, if he were to allow his lyrium markings to flare up, he would absolutely be spotted. So he had to keep calm and collected.
But as he slowly approached the ledge of the balcony, Fenris couldn't help his heartrate accelerating at the thought of finally getting some answers out of the woman who had left his lover in the Fade. He would get her to take him to the Fade, either by diplomacy or force, but he was going either way. Consequences be damned.
Finally, he grasped the edge of the balcony. For one second he hung suspended in the air, far over the miniscule guards below and the tiny pinpricks of the torches they carried. Then with a grunt he hauled himself up and over the railing. He landed lightly on his feet, despite his aching muscles, and immediately hid behind the wall section between the two glass doors. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath while he put his gauntlets back on before he peeked around the wall, into the darkened interior.
He could see an expansive room, dimly lit by what appeared to be a dying fire. A fireplace, he realized belatedly. That's what I'm hiding behind. He could see a desk, a couch, and against the far wall, a massive bed with at least one occupant sprawled upon it.
Fenris allowed himself the slightest smile as his heartrate skyrocketed again, beating a staccato rhythm against his ribcage. He clenched his fist to still a tremble that threatened to betray his nerves. Slowly, he eased the glass door open, and slipped inside.
Fenris's bare feet made no sound on the carpet as he approached. The shapes on the bed slowly resolved into two figures, half-covered by a thick blanket to ward against the chill in the evening air. One of them was a man with unruly curly hair. Although he couldn't make out much of the man's facial features besides a scar on his lip because of the darkness, Fenris couldn't help but feel like he'd seen the man before. He shrugged it off and turned his gaze to the man's companion.
Fenris didn't know what he had been expecting the Inquisitor to be, but he was not expecting…this. All the tales had led him to believe that she was incredibly powerful, terrifying on the battlefield, stunningly beautiful, and would kill you as soon as kiss you. But this woman sleeping soundly next to her lover looked like any other ordinary woman.
Of course, Hawke would do this exact same thing when she slept. When she was unconscious or completely relaxed, she was a completely different person then when she was on the battlefield or in an argument. You could almost forget the fact she had defeated the Arishok in single combat and lived to tell the tale.
Fenris let his eyes trail over her, taking in her cropped silvery hair and delicate features. He reached out, his hand hovering above her sternum. This was it, the moment he'd been anticipating for weeks. His hand lowered, heart pounding, lyrium tattoos already faintly glowing.
The Inquisitor shifted in her sleep, a sleepy sigh slipping past her lips. Fenris didn't wait for her to wake up enough to defend herself. He plunged his hand into her chest, ready to crush her heart at a moment's notice.
Her half-asleep shout of surprise woke her lover. The man jerked awake, instinctively scrabbling for a massive longsword from where he'd apparently had it tucked under the edge of the bed. But that wasn't what Fenris was focused on.
His throat was suddenly hot as he felt the edge of something touch his skin; something that was not truly there but burned like a hot wire against his flesh. His eyes flicked down to find a massive, brightly glowing blade held against his throat. The blade hummed with a strange power and flickered like a flame, emitting from a solid sword hilt. The Inquisitor didn't seem particularly bothered by his intrusion and assault now that she was actually awake. She held his gaze intensely, apparently sizing him up, face illuminated by the clearly magical blade.
Her lover swore loudly. "Get away from her!" he shouted, brandishing his blade at him. Then, the tip of the blade lowered as he looked harder at the elf. "Wait…is that…Maker, Fenris, is that you?"
Fenris's eyes flicked over to the man so he wouldn't risk moving his head. Yes, he had indeed seen this man before: Cullen. He'd been in Kirkwall, Hawke had had dealings with him in the last few years they were in the city. Fenris knew from Hawke's letters that the Templar was here, of course, but of all the places he'd expected to find him, in bed with the Inquisitor was the last.
"Fenris?" The Inquisitor frowned. "I know that name. Where have I heard…oh." Her brows lowered in realization. "You're here about Hawke."
"Yes," Fenris hissed. He could feel a trickle of blood creeping down his neck from where this strange blade was making contact with his skin. His hand remained in the woman's chest around her heart.
"Are you going to kill me?" she asked. She was surprisingly calm, considering that the slightest twitch of his hand could kill her at any moment.
His lips twitched. "I certainly considered it."
Cullen swore again but didn't move any closer. But Fenris could tell he was carefully analyzing every detail, weighing whether or not Fenris would actually go through with it. "You don't have to do this," he offered. "We can discuss this calmly, without threatening to kill one another."
Fenris glanced at the warrior, noticing how tense the man was. Ah, so he had strong feelings for this woman, then? The elf looked back at the Inquisitor. "As it is," he continued as if he had not been interrupted, "I happen to need you."
"Before we continue," the woman interjected, "let's put away our respective weapons. Because frankly, I don't appreciate people other than Cullen touching my breasts."
Fenris was thrown by the joke, but shook it off. He pulled his hand out of her chest and finally allowed the lyrium to dissipate from his fingertips. The bright blue glow faded until only the white markings on his dark skin remained. Likewise, the giant glowing blade the Inquisitor held winked out of existence, and she laid down the hilt upon the rumpled bed sheets. Cullen reluctantly set his sword aside too, but still eyed Fenris warily.
"Evans, are you okay?" the warrior asked in a low voice. The woman, Evans, nodded before facing Fenris again. Her face was set with resolve and earnestness, but the elf could almost detect a hint of guilt too.
"Alright, why do you need me and what does it have to do with Hawke?" she asked, eyebrows raised.
Fenris allowed himself a thin smile. "You're going to take me into the Fade, and we're getting Hawke out."