She found him pacing in the room of the ancient tavern they had been given - a temporary holding place for the mages until they found lodgings, and a kind of… waiting room, she thought, given the number of young mages who were hanging around in the common room. She'd gotten a few catcalls and comments as she walked through, they'd made her smile, thinking of exactly what Fenris' reaction would be to them (he was sometimes adorably possessive, even though he knew she was not one to be tied down) and remembering (fondly, mostly) some of her dalliances with mages. Zevran had always said they were interesting lovers.

He wasn't here, it seemed. She was equal parts disappointed and relieved. She knew the Warden and he were sometime residents of the Thaig, but Alim Surana carried enough status - in Ferelden at least - not to be bothered by the Chantry. He enjoyed a level of protection that Anders did not, and Zevran shared in it.

"What did the moody mage have to say?" she said, flinging herself into a chair and beginning to strip off her boots. Fenris turned to the fireplace and placed both hands against it, pushing as though he wished to make the room larger and shaking his head. "I…"

"Come on sweetness, don't keep me in suspense. We're talking about the future of my sex life here."

Fenris breathed a slow breath, obviously trying to control his temper. Usually she enjoyed pushing him close to the edge - there was something feral and dangerous and absolutely entrancing about him when he was near a rage, but tonight - tonight there was a slump to his shoulders that she didn't like at all.

"It appears I am faced with a choice," he said, and his voice was tight. "I can continue to be a danger to everyone around me," he looked up briefly and she caught a glimpse of green through the white fall of his hair before he looked down again, "I can attempt to have the lyrium stripped from my flesh, which will… leave me dead, or at best, crippled…"

She breathed in sharply. Anders had looked morose, when he'd come into where she was talking to Hawke and the… offspring, but he always looked morose and he hadn't said anything to suggest that…

"Or," she prompted, eyes narrowing.

He looked down at his hands. Long fingered, strong, gorgeous hands that over the years had learned to do some quite amazing things to her. Things she would never admit to him that no one else had managed.

"Or I can subject myself to the same ritual Danarius performed on me fifteen years ago," he finished.

She blinked. "What?"

He gave her a withering look. "Surely you do not need me to repeat it?"

"Well, yes, sweet thing I sort of do. Anders knows how to do it?"

He hissed. "Of course he doesn't! He will be working from total ignorance! But then, so was Danarius."

"You said you were unique," she said. "No one else has markings like you do. You mean to say Danarius never tried to do it to any other slaves?"

"I doubt he had the resources," Fenris said. "Do you not remember Hawke joking about having me valued? I am worth more than your entire ship, Isabela."

She cocked an eyebrow. You are, but not for that. "Are you saying Anders and Hawke do have the resources?"

Fenris swallowed. "Anders says they have enough lyrium. It… the lyrium I have is not yet completely depleted otherwise my powers would not work at all. However…" She pulled off her remaining boot and rubbed the sole of her foot, looking at him, waiting. Fenris' fist clenched. "What they have is granted them by the King in Orzammar. It is supposed to be used to help the mages clear the thaigs for him. If Anders uses it to help me…"

"Sweetheart, that's his problem. And Hawke's. I don't think "clearing the dwarven Thaigs of darkspawn" was ever on their to do list any way."

"No, but they are here on Bhelen's sufferance. If they anger him they could be… "

She smiled slightly. "You're concerned for their safety?"

He frowned at her. "I do not believe innocents should suffer for my wellbeing." Her eyebrows shot up and he growled at her. "No matter what I may think of Anders, Hawke has always had my… friendship. And they have a child. And… the mages here… not all of them are… " He shook his head and she smirked. He would never say the words, but the meanings were there.

She stood and moved towards him, slowly. He backed up and she rolled her eyes. "Don't start with how dangerous you are again - you've yet to put your fist through anything living, not even when you were…"

"And you would wish the first person I hurt to be you?" he said.

She breathed in sharply. You're already hurting me. She forced a smile, but stayed where she was. "Sweetheart, I'm difficult to hurt."

"No you are not." Blue light flared and he bared his teeth, before it spluttered out. He growled and slammed his fist into the fireplace, and she was somewhat relieved to hear an audible crunch.

She put on her best pout and rested her fists on her hips. "You know, you're absolutely no fun at the moment." The laugh that tore out of him was half sob, but at least it was a reaction, not just… a dismissal. "Fenris," she said softly. "Here's an idea. If Anders is willing to help you, let him help you. No matter what else you might think of the crazy bastard, he does know magic. If he thinks he can do it, he can."

He looked at her, and his jaw worked. "Isabela," he said. "When Danarius did this to me…" he held out his arms and traced one finger over one silver line, "I lost all of my memories. I do not wish that to happen again."

Her heart clenched. "At least you'd still be alive," she said, although her voice sounded small and insignificant.

"Pfah. I remember what it was like, Isabela. Anders talks of being tranquiled - I can only imagine being stripped of your memories is as close as a non-mage can come to it."

"You can make new memories," she said.

He shook his head. A small movement, but she felt it like a blow to the gut. "Everything we have shared, the past ten years? It would be gone, Isabela. I would not remember you… Hawke… anything."

They stood there for minutes. It felt longer. She tried to imagine what would happen if he lost his memories. On the one hand, he wouldn't remember being a slave. On the other…

How much of … of them was made up of their shared pasts?

She turned around and picked up her boots and started pulling them on.

"What are you doing?" he said.

"I'm going to talk to Anders, and you're coming with me." Her second foot slid home into the boot and she stalked towards the door.

She heard the soft pad of his naked feet behind her. "Wait… I have already…"

"No you haven't, sweet thing. You're too close to this."

"And you are not?"

"Of course I am. But if there's one thing I know you're not good at it's talking to people. I am however, and I want to get to the very bottom of this before we abandon you to death or memory loss."

"Isabela!"

She turned and glared at him. "What?"

"It's… not… I'm not…"

She crossed the distance between them and grasped his chin in her hand. He tried to push her back but she simply shoved his shoulder. "Don't you dare say you're not worth it, Fenris! Don't you dare. You are not the one who gets to decide that."

His eyes narrowed as he pulled his chin out of her grip. "Do you intend to make this choice for me Isabela?"

She shut her eyes. "Maker's tits and arse, man, of course I don't. But I'm not going to let you go into this decision without knowing all of your options. That would be stupid and whatever else I may be, Fenris I am not stupid."

He followed her as she stalked from the tavern, how could he not? She climbed the bridge up to Hawke and Anders' house, glancing back only once to see him behind her, scowling with all the force of his broodiness. Damn him for being so…

… Fenris.

Hawke answered the door, looking irritated. "Isabela, for Andraste's sake, you only just left…"

"Where's Anders?" she said. "Get him out here."

Hawke raised an eyebrow and shook her head slightly. "I should have guessed you'd…" she heaved a sigh. "Hang on, I'll get him."

She disappeared into the house and a few minutes later Anders came to the door - hair mussed and hanging around his shoulders, a simple shirt and breeches rather than that ridiculous coat, and feet bare. She had a moment to think that his feet were ridiculously large and a bit on the hairy side, before she shook her head and grabbed his arm. "Come on, Blondie, we need to talk."