Chapter 5

Confessions

Two weeks.

Two weeks of pain.

Of suffering.

Of nightmares.

That's what they were now. Dreams which before had made his fears of intimacy seem distant, which had showed him sensations he'd never imagined possible, now haunted him as surely as Danarius.

At night - every night - she was there; more forceful, more demanding than the last. Dark eyes and full lips calling to him as she stole his will with kisses and touches and wild wantonness.

It wasn't what he'd seen in Minrathos, it wasn't evil, but it was twisted. To wake every time from imagined memories of being with her to the very real memory of her with Anders was indescribably painful. The evil image of that abomination curled around her still hadn't left him. It haunted him as he paced his dark mansion day after day, night after night, along with imagined sighs he shouldn't know about; had no right to know about.

He didn't understand!

He had no memories to base these dreams off of. All he'd ever known was pain. The pain of torture, of punishment, of his master using the power he required of his pet. And the pain of being less than a man, of not being able to shun the cold hands that greedily explored his markings. Hate and self-loathing were what he knew; pain and ache were branded into his skin as surely as the lyrium.

He should not know her touch. He should not know pleasure.

But his dreams assured him that he did; whispers of things that would have been improbable before his branding, and impossible after. Touch was something he strictly avoided; he hadn't touched or been touched in years. Touch could only ever be painful, he relentlessly tried to remind himself. It was true that he'd had contact: punches in battle, gripping armor. Hawke had often touched his hard gauntlets, and had recently placed her hand on his breastplate. Desperation had kept his grip on her tight on the river bank, and her kiss had shocked him. If these things were not quick and surprising he would never have allowed them.

His dreams had persuaded him to allow more. That promise of pleasure had kept him still against his fear as their fingers had gently intertwined that night two weeks ago. Her fingers had been less than centimeters away from his bare and calloused palm. He'd wanted more. For the first time in his remembered life, he didn't fear the brush of skin.

But now he knew a new pain; more sharp and damning than any physical torture he'd endured under Danarius.

Hawke was with Anders.

And the hollow ache was excruciating.

Fenris didn't know when the woman had acquired such a hold over him, but for some reason the fact that she'd chosen another ate at him. It was more than just the burn of scorned desire; it was deeper and much more consuming.

He couldn't stand it.

She'd come by the morning after the kiss and he hadn't been able to look at her. The next evening she'd come again, but he hadn't spoken to her. Each visit she became more and more frantic. She didn't understand, she'd said. And then yelled. And neither did he.

Before he'd believed that all he'd ever need was his life and his freedom, but now in her absence it all felt empty. He felt empty. Eventually she'd stopped coming to his mansion, and the knowledge that he'd driven her away was almost as unbearable as catching her with Anders.

He could find no peace. Away from her he was a mess of rage and want, but seeing her tore at the newly opened ache.

And always those dreams!

Wine hadn't been able to drown them. He'd driven himself to exhaustion trying to avoid them. Nothing he did could help him escape.

And every night they were more and more intense. Hawke had become more vivid; her hands had wandered farther, had removed his armor and snuck to places they didn't belong. And his own hands had followed, gliding over the smooth expanse of her skin. She'd moved against him, touched him in ways he would never ask her to. She'd done things to him that he'd seen Danarius force others to do; things that had felt good despite their wrongness. He was disgusted with these recent, vivid nightmares; he was disgusted with himself.

He should have never allowed that kiss on the riverbank! It had added reality to the dreams. They were driving him crazy.

Fenris was angry at Hawke for what she'd done to him.

He needed her.

He was frustrated with her.

And he missed her terribly.

He didn't understand.

He had nothing to base his frantic and chaotic emotions on; no experience and no one to talk to. Nowhere to turn.

So he'd come to the Chantry.

It was raining, he was drenched; his hair stuck to his face, and water dripped into his dry eyes. The large engraved doors loomed before him, intimidating, and for all the claims of religion, were not welcoming. They were not the grandest thing he'd ever seen, the carved stories felt empty to him and he was not awe-inspired with the designs. He doubted what he'd find inside would be much more promising, but something told him that if he were able to talk and sort through his problems he would understand.

But the person he'd talked too had been Hawke. And he would die before he let her find out about his dreams.

That left confessional. He was not religious, but Sebastian had promised secrecy and acceptance. It was all he needed right now.

So with desperation to escape his wild emotions, he placed his hand against the thick wood and pushed it open just enough to slip inside.


.oO:OO:Oo.


"Hello?" Hawke called as the bell jangled against the door. Highly suspicious the owner would not be happy to see her she slipped in with great caution. Looking around the vacant shop, she removed her drenched cloak and hung it on the coat rack. It didn't look as though anyone were here. The door shut with another tinkle of the bell, locking the cold of the early spring storm out.

The second ring drew the shop keep out of the back rooms, but the man froze when he recognized her, eyes going wide.

Before he could turn away or start casting horrible curses on her, Hawke raised her hands entreatingly. "I know. I know you're probably not very happy to see me. Just hear me out, alright?" she said, wary of his reaction.

The mage was quiet for a moment before he slowly pulled out his monocle and put it to his eye as he cleared his throat. "Is this…Is this about the elf?" he asked slowly, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Grim, but determined Hawke nodded. "Yes," she said sadly.


.oO:OO:Oo.


The inside of the small booth was the same as everything else: empty opulence. Fenris understood it was to inspire faith, but he felt none of that as he stared at the little carvings and embroidered tapestry. It made him edgy, leaving his sword outside the booth and speaking to a stranger hidden behind a dark partition. He couldn't understand why this helped people.

"You have sins to confess?" asked a soft, older voice from behind the screen. It wasn't Sebastian. Good. When Fenris didn't answer the man continued, "The Maker forgives those who confess their sins and feel guilt. Have you sinned, Ser?"

"I have," Fenris said grimly. "I have committed and witnessed sins that you could never imagine."

There was silence for a moment behind the screen. "Have you come to repent them?"

"No," Fenris growled out. "I have come for guidance, if your's is suitable." It was harrowing to sit in this tight space, intending to tell a stranger his secrets. Instinctively he recoiled from the idea. But his instincts also told him that if he didn't sort through his emotions he'd lose Hawke forever. And the thought of that future was unbearable. So just like at the river, he took a deep breath and dove.

"There is a woman," he said softly. "She…she is more than I could expect you to know, more than I have ever known. Kinder and fiercer than any other. And I have become…" he paused, floundering for the right word. "...attached." he said finally. "I can't be apart from her, but I can no longer be with her."

"You love this woman?" the question stole his breath for a moment.

Love?

It was a word that hadn't existed in his world of pain and desperation and hate; he'd never even dared to dream of the sentiment.

But could that be the truth of it? Was that why it was so unbearable to be without her? So painful to see her with another? The idea that love was even possible for him sent him reeling.

"She's with Anders," before he realized it the choked words had snuck past his lips.

The man behind the screen sighed. "Ahhh," he said sadly, "to see the woman he loves with another: the greatest pain a man could know. There is no way past the jealousy you must feel. It is natural."

Fenris was silent for a moment, trying to process things, to see if the old man were right. That twisting in his gut had been jealousy? If that were true than he'd been sick with it for months.

"You said you cannot be without her? If you desire her friendship, then you must swallow your pride. Perhaps this Anders is not so bad a man?" Fenris openly scoffed at that, and a light chuckle echoed behind the screen. "Even so, the woman you love loves him. There must be some good in his heart."

Fenris supposed it could be true. Unlikely, but there was a possibility.

"If you let your jealousy consume you, this woman will hate you for it. You must put your own hate behind you – no matter the pain –if you truly wish your friendship to continue."

Images of Anders wrapped around Hawke assaulted him again, followed by breathy sighs echoing in his ears. He shifted uncomfortably as he cleared his throat. "And what about the rest? There is more that is not jealousy."

A soft chuckle answered him again. "The desire? It is hard to ignore, but possible."

"It's not." Fenris said shaking his head as the ghost of caressing fingers tickled his skin. "I…" a deep blush crept up his cheeks as he trailed off. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "There are dreams. All night. Every night. Unnatural dreams, and I cannot ignore those."

There was a long silence, and Fenris was disgusted at his own admittance. Dreams of a woman while she loved another. It was sick; dirty.

Finally the priest spoke, "Unnatural, you say? When did these…dreams begin plaguing you so?"

The blatant suspicion behind the man's words was evident. Fenris snorted. "I am no mage, priest. Demons do not plague me."

He could practically hear the man's relief. "That is…good. Still, is there no outside force that could have caused these dreams? A spell or a curse, perhaps?" That was completely believable. The dreams had become so tortuous that Fenris was readily able to see them as a curse.

For a moment he thought about it. It was hard to place all of the chaotic and erotic images and sensations in a specific timeline. It'd been weeks, maybe a month. A month of hardly any sleep and constant questions. But the first night she'd snuck into his dreams was the night he'd watched Anders nearly kiss her in his clinic. The day Merril had spilled a mage's hoard of unknown potions and powders on them.

The day he'd gotten the powder in his eyes .

Eyes that were still gritty.

Fenris didn't bother to reply or thank the man for his help as he jumped out of the confessional as quickly as he could, reaching for his sword as he crashed out. The embroidered curtain ripped its rod from it's fastens to fall with a bang behind him. People gasped at the sudden commotion and stared as he rushed out of the Chantry, but he didn't care.

It was the powder? That damned powder was a love potion?

He was going to kill that mage!


.oO:OO:Oo.


Hawke was surprised at the despair that seemed to overcome the mage with her answer. "Your name is Halbert, right? My name is Hawke. Marian Hawke. I came to apologize for the damages done to your shop. Merril's a good friend of mine and I've come to hopefully settle the debt she racked up last time we were here."

It was true. Hawke planned on settling it either with money or with service. Since she'd been avoiding Anders lately, and Fenris had been avoiding her, this task seemed a good distraction from her recent emotional turmoil. "My friends and I appreciate what you're trying to do for mages here in Kirkwall, and we'd like to help."

"Merril?" Halbert said slowly. "Is that his name?" there was some strange sadness behind that monocle, and Hawke's smile fell as her suspicions started to rise.

"Him? You mean Fenris?"

"Yes. Fenris. The warrior." Halbert's shoulders sunk farther under the weight of guilt. "I'm so sorry…" He shook his head sadly at her as he trailed off. His guilty look set off little alarms, and cold dread began to settle into her veins.

"What aren't you saying?" she asked, suddenly full of worry. Fenris had been incredibly distant lately; vacant. Something was wrong. "What happened?"

Halbert wasn't shocked with the anger flashing behind the woman's eyes, but he was by the terror. She'd claimed to be the elf's friend, but was she something more? It was depressing to think his order had stolen not only the elf's freedom but also his love and irrevocably damned him to chains.

But something about the fierceness in her eyes, the wild fury emanating from her persuaded Halbert to forget his logic; made him believe the woman could achieve the impossible. She looked like she'd done it before. Perhaps there was a chance she could save the man she loved.

"What's wrong with Fenris?" she asked frantically as she took a dangerous step forward. And Halbert made up his mind. It was a stretch, but the possibility was there. If she were willing to face the danger, then Halbert would help her; it was the least he could do.

"The powder." Halbert said.

Images of Fenris's dusted face flitted through her thoughts and she shook her head. "He said he was fine. There were no side effects."

"You don't understand," he said gravely, "that powder was-"

The door crashed open behind them and an angry – and very wet – elf stalked in. Fenris wasted no time in rushing the mage and grabbing the front of his robes, bending him awkwardly to slam on a table. Various trinkets clattered to the floor, shattering into bits of glass as their magic was released. The elf's markings flared to life and Halbert's eyes widened in fear as he witnessed the phenomena for the first time.

"The powder!" Fenris snarled at him. "What was the powder?! What have you done to me!?" He was lost in his rage at that moment, blind in his fury and didn't notice Hawke behind him.

"Fenris?" her soft voice halted his wild mood, and wide eyes swung over his shoulder to her, his markings going dark with his surprise.

"Hawke?" her name was a gasp from his lips, and welcome after so long deprived of his voice. His eyes had dark circles beneath them, and his cheeks were hollower than usual. Still, despite his ragged appearance, she was glad to see him. "What are you doing here?" he asked as he shook his head, confused.

He didn't want her to see him like this; didn't want her to hear what the mage would tell him.

"No!" gasped Halbert, knowing the elf's intent. "Sh-She needs to hear this, elf. Your friends are your only hope now."

Fenris spun back to the man, baring his teeth feraly. "What are you talking about, mage?" he hissed, applying more pressure to the man's bent arm.

Watching him Hawke was shocked with the change that had overcome the elf. He was not the same controlled warrior she'd come to know; this man was raw and wild. And frightening.

Halbert was silent a moment as he considered how to phrase the damning news. "That powder… was a terrible curse," he choked out. "A magic dust designed to charm the person cursed by it. It is an ancient and strong magic, and has the ability to steal the will of the afflicted, enslaving them through devotion." He paused a moment, watching the news click into place behind the feral eyes staring him down. "It is also very specific, it will only bind the person it's made for to the mage who creates, or – in this case – the mage who ordered it."

Fenris couldn't find his breath as he frantically searched the captive man's guilty eyes for any hints of deception. "En-enslave?" he choked out. Through devotion? But it's Hawke who haunts my dreams, and she would never…

"So, it's a love curse?" Hawke asked, her tentative voice breaking his spiraling thoughts.

Slowly, Halbert nodded. "The afflicted will become infatuated with the person." he said gravely. "They will be unable to see anything beyond their bond's devotion; beyond their love. Ultimately, they will become a slave to their emotions, and thus a slave to the powder's maker."

"The cure…" Fenris rasped, trying to regain his tumbling emotions. "What's the cure?"

"I'm so sorry…" Halbert said, but Fenris slammed him back against the table.

"The cure!" he bellowed, beyond rage.

The devastation in Halbert's eyes was enough.

Fenris stumbled back from that gaze, reeling with the damning news as he released the mage. Wide eyes stared blindly at broken nobles' toys as he shook his head, unable to accept what he'd just been doomed to. "No…But the-the dreams…"

The released Halbert perked up immediately as he rubbed his aching arm. "Dreams?" he echoed. "What kinds of dreams?" he worked his monocle up to his eye in time to see the elf blush terribly and suddenly guilty green eyes dart to the woman beside them. "O… OO!" Halbert stood quickly. That is good, very good! Perhaps things were not as bad as he'd suspected.

But the woman's next question destroyed his rising mood. "Who ordered it?" she hissed quietly.

He could feel the force of the woman's rage darkened eyes, but he didn't turn away from the elf. He already knows the answer. He thought with a sigh. It was a terrible thing to know such people, even worse to know they were hunting you. Meeting the elf's stony eyes, he forced the name out. "Hadriana."

Fenris gave no outward signs that he recognized it, but as he stiffly turned away and headed for the door, Halbert knew he had.

"Who's Hadriana?" Hawke asked, but Fenris didn't answer. "Fenris?" she whispered, reaching for him as he passed.

"Don't touch me." He hissed as he shrugged her hand away and moved past her and out the door, her frantic calls echoing behind him.

Hawke hesitated for only a moment before she rushed after him, casting a confused glance at Halbert as she hurried out the door, shattered trinkets crunching beneath her boots.


An:

The truth of the powder is revealed! But will Fenris beable to destroy his hunters, or will the curse destroy him?

Tune in next time to read: Tears and Rain


If you enjoyed this chapter please review!

I hope you like where this story is going! the twist is coming! It will get very twisted very soon.

... but fluffy twisted.


Reviewers:

jugalettePENNER & oOo: thank you for your comments! made me laugh! and yes, he'll get some - lots.

LightsAurora: You've been such a loyal watcher, I hope you weren't dissapointed with the powder's results.

iRavenHearti: I'm glad I was able to pull off a good Anders...that's kinda hard.

AND: Halbert has a stupid name because all great wizards have stupid names. Dumbledore, Gandolf, Merlin, Harry...I mean, no great wizard has had a cool name, those belong to the evil wizards, like Jafare, Rasputin, and Rumplestilskin...wait, no...that's stupid too.

anyways i thought up the stupidest name I could. because Halbert will be epic.

thanks to all the other reviewers.

And thank you to the many people watching!