A year passed, and the laws got stricter. Templars started actively going after apostates like they hadn't before. One day, about a year after the Qunari attack, Fenris was in the Lowtown Market with Hawke, Varric, and the mage, when he saw a large group of Templars marching. His thoughts went immediately to Elysia; it looked like they were going to the alienage, but he dare not check on her. He didn't know what to do about her feelings for him and his feelings for her, and if he checked on her, they might consider that evidence that she was a mage.

So he waited with the party. As the day continued, he became more anxious and snappish, to where even Anders was concerned for him.

"What is it then, elf? You are brooding more than usual. I didn't even think that was possible," Varric asked.

"Leave it be, dwarf. It is nothing to concern yourself with."

"You know you can always talk to me," Varric added. His tone suggested joking, but his eyes held real concern.

"It's nothing!" he hissed. What is with everyone caring about him? It was so much easier when no one cared, when everyone left him alone, when he could pretend he was fine.

Hawke and Anders, though glued at the hip as usual, even looked worried, and Hawke demanded, "What is wrong then, Fenris? It has been a year since you stopped disappearing in the alienage and this whole time you have been so… frustrated this whole time. Something happened."

"Now is not a good time to suddenly start caring about my 'feelings.' I thought we had established that I don't have any." He walked away, cold as steel and stoic as he could muster, toward a weapon shop.

Hawke, Anders, and Varric were stunned. Fenris had never, in all the time since Hawke and he had broken up, been anything but calm about it. They had never heard him talk about it, or indicate that it had hurt him. That was so below the belt too, and he wasn't normally one to do that.

The rest of the trip was absolutely silent. Even Varric didn't try for witty banter. And Fenris, well, his stony glare was impeccable, and off putting.

That night, when Hawke and Anders retired, he didn't go home. He wandered through Lowtown, deserted at this time of night, and eventually ended up in the alienage. As he walked toward the tan door that she lived behind, he told himself he wasn't visiting her, he was just checking to make sure she wasn't harmed from the raid. He didn't miss her. He didn't miss her. Not at all.

He knocked lightly, and then with more force. There was no reply. She was usually up at this time of night. He knocked again, banging so hard the door shuddered, but there was no reply. He didn't want to break in, but he was starting to panic now, fearing her at the mercy of the Templars. The handle turned and the door swung open, and he knew she was gone. Much of her stuff had been taken out, and the rest had been torn apart. Loose items littered the floor and one of her chairs had been ripped open, with goose down feathers bleeding from it.

He fell to his knees, and tried not to react. A scream was crawling up his throat and tears were beating at his eyes, but he refused to allow either through. He curled into the fetal position and held himself together, trying to keep calm. After a few minutes, he sat in the chair he had sat in for so many silent days, the chair he had abandoned from self-pity, the chair he had always secretly loved to sit in, and did nothing.

He woke up the next morning as the sunlight streamed in through the still open door. He was confused for a moment, but then as the scene around him slid into focus, it came back. He immediately stuffed his feelings away; he would not mourn her. He had made her so mad by not coming, he saw the damage she had done to the Wounded Coast; he didn't deserve to mourn her.

He returned to his mansion, a slow and steady walk with a blank face, and waited for when Hawke would eventually come for him. She just couldn't let go.

When she did arrive, ready to pick him up for the day's activities, she immediately saw it, but knew better than to say anything.

Over the next two years, he steadily withdrew further into himself. He rarely spoke and stopped going out besides when Hawke needed his help. Everyone was worried, but what could they do? He wouldn't talk about it, he even denied anything was wrong, so they eventually, begrudgingly, accepted this new Fenris. There were no other options.