Promises: Chapter Twenty-Nine

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

Fenris woke up abruptly, utterly disoriented. For a moment he had a vision of playing in a courtyard, chasing around a girl with red curls as his mother watched fondly on. The memory was fleeting, however, and Fenris was left with a sense of loss. To have something that he had thought he had lost forever within his grasp only to have it slip away…it was a cruel trick that fate played upon him.

He had long ago given up any hope of recovering his lost memories. The pain from the ritual which had inflicted his markings upon him had been too complete, and when he had awoken afterwards, the only thing he could remember was that pain. Everything else had been wiped away, leaving him a blank slate. Fenris gritted his teeth as he recalled how Danarius had taken advantage of that fact and molded him into cross between a bodyguard and pleasure slave, who only thought of pleasing and protecting his master. He had truly been a slave back then when he spared no thought for his own well-being.

Over time, however, Fenris had gained some knowledge of his past, bits and pieces dropped by others in passing. Hadriana had been a prime source of such tidbits of information although the magister's apprentice had delighted in using what she knew to add to the mental torture she inflicted upon him. The more he learned, the more he grew to hate his position, to despise the master he had once admired. Such knowledge was no balm to soothe his wounded soul but rather a bitter brew that burned him further.

Still the anecdotes that Hadriana had taunted him with could not compare with those fleeting memories of his. Those memories, now lost once more, were his and so not tainted with magic. But then again, maybe they were. Hawke shifted in her sleeping, nuzzling against his shoulder, reminding Fenris that a mage had been at least peripherally involved his short term memory recovery.

Fenris turned so that he could look at his mageling, who was still held in the depths of sleep. He couldn't help but think that it was no coincidence that he had dreamed of his past after he had slept with the mageling. It was frustrating though to have dreamt of his childhood only to forget it again upon waking. It was bad enough that he had lost all his memories once after that ritual; to lose them again verged on being heartbreaking.

He inhaled sharply. This was simply all too much. It was too much for him to handle. His emotions had taken him on a rollercoaster during this last day, with him first fearing that he had lost Hawke to exulting in learning that she was his, his for the taking, only to be shocked hours later by this latest disaster. He couldn't do this right now. Hawke would wake up and beam at him and expect him to be happy when really he was too torn up to muster any sort of positive emotion. Fenris began carefully extracting himself from Hawke's embrace, needing to put some distance between him and the mageling. It wasn't Hawke's fault that any of this had happened, but he just couldn't deal with it right now.

Fenris moved slowly, taking care not to disturb the mageling lest she should waken. Despite his best efforts, Hawke still woke up. "Fenris," said the mageling, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he responded gruffly, hoping that she was sleepy enough to accept his answer at face value.

That too didn't work. His tone gave his emotions away, and Hawke was alert in an instant. "Something is wrong!" she cried. She sat up in the bed, drawing up the sheet to cover her breasts. "What is it?" she asked.

"It is nothing," he told her. That wasn't exactly a lie, seeing that was all he could recall of his memories now.

"It's not nothing, is it?" Hawke persisted. She looked down at her hands. "I…was I too forward?" she asked softly. "I didn't…I didn't pressure you, did I? Because I didn't mean to, I just wanted—"

Fenris had to stop that line of thinking right away. "No, you didn't," he said quickly. "You didn't pressure me. If anything, I would think the opposite would be true. I wanted what happened as much as you did if not more."

"But you're upset and trying to leave me…why?" Hawke asked. "Was it something I did? Afterwards perhaps?"

Fenris shook his head fervently. "No, you did nothing wrong," he assured her. He could tell with a single look at her that simple assurances wouldn't be enough to put her fears to rest. He let out a sigh before revealing what bothered him. "After…after we were done, I fell asleep and dreamed…of my past," he said haltingly.

"Oh!" Hawke looked at him through her lashes. "That's not a good thing?" she asked in a hesitating tone, chewing absently at her lower lip.

"I don't remember any more," he replied shortly, upset once more at now having lost his memories of his past twice.

"Oh!" Hawke cried again, her breath catching on that single syllable. "That's…that's horrible!" she exclaimed and then she burst into tears.

Like he had been before, Fenris was at a lost when confronted with Hawke's tears. While he knew he hated to see her like that, he had no idea how to get her to stop crying, especially now when he didn't understand what Hawke was upset about. Thankfully Hawke cleared that up for him, speaking through her tears.

"How awful for you! To remember…only to forget again," she said, her face drawn and worried. "I…I can't imagine how you must feel. That would be like me finding my family again only to have them snatched away before my eyes. I'm sorry, Fenris, I'm so, so sorry." His mageling threw her arms around him in an embrace, letting the cover that had been protecting her modesty fall, and he could feel the wetness of her tears against his bare shoulder. His mageling was as upset about his loss as he was.

Suddenly Fenris tightened his arms around Hawke. He couldn't believe what he had been so close to doing. He had been on the verge of leaving Hawke simply because he was feeling overwhelmed. He had almost walked away from his mageling in a sheer fit over losing his memories once more.

If he had done that, then that would have been the worst mistake of his life, bar none. It was foolish to throw one's hopes of the future away because of past defeats and disappointments. Hawke was his future, the only one he wanted. He couldn't imagine a life without her by his side; he would be lonely and bitter and so much less a man. Hawke kept him sane and grounded. While he had been made bitter by his past in Tevinter, when he was with Hawke, there were times when he could let go of all that anger and hatred. Never completely, not when his old master pursued him so vehemently, but enough so that he realized that it was possible for him to be happy. The effect she had on him was almost purifying in nature.

That thought gave way to another—maybe he had recovered his memories, if only briefly, because of his contact with Hawke. The magic used upon him during the ritual was foul and tainted the way only blood magic could be. Hawke's abhorrence of blood magic was not faked, and so it would stand to reason that her magic was innocent and pure like her. His lyrium brands had reacted last night when he was pressed up against her, but her magic had been warm and welcoming and unlike anything he had ever felt before. Just as her presence was enough to make him a better man, maybe her magic was slowly counteracting whatever foul blood magic had been used on him before.

Whether or not that theory was true, however, was of no consequence in the end. What matter was that he had Hawke and he wasn't about to give her up. Fenris drew her more tightly into his arms, stroking her head with one hand, as she did what he could not and cried for his lost memories.

Fenris and Hawke didn't leave the inn the next day, both of them exhausted not only from the night's activities but its aftermath. Hawke had gone back to sleep after Fenris had promised her that he would not leave her. He was slightly put out that he hadn't been able to extract a similar promise from her before she had fallen asleep, but he took comfort in having her pressed up against his side with her head resting against his chest. Fenris shifted about, tangling their legs together and encircling her waist with his arm, until he was satisfied that there was no way his mageling could try to leave the bed without waking him.

That turned out to be a good idea for it was his mageling's squirming about that woke him up the next day. He pried open his eyes to see Hawke trying to extricate herself from his grasp. He smiled and then tightened his grip, causing her to look up at him. "Good morning," he said huskily before claiming her lips with a kiss. Hawke all but melted against him, eagerly opening her mouth under his, tempting him to take her once more. Fenris could feel himself hardening at the mere thought of having her again, but before he could do anything about his arousal, Hawke pushed away from him.

"Sorry," she muttered, her eyes downcast. "It's just that…." Her gaze flicked over to the bathroom, and Fenris suddenly understood just why she had been trying to leave their bed. He released her from his grasp and settled back to watch as she rose. A sense of male pride filled him as he saw the love marks he had left on her neck and breasts, all which loudly proclaimed that she was his.

Then Hawke took a faltering step and grimaced slightly, causing Fenris to take another look at his mageling. He saw the bruises he had left last night upon her hip when he had gripped her too hard, the brief moment of pain that crossed her face with each step, and Fenris felt ashamed. His mageling deserved a better man than him. Part of him had forgotten that his mageling was new to sex. It would take her time to recover and then more time for her to adjust to having him within her, but a moment earlier he had been lost to lust and blind to her needs.

He sprang up from the bed. Fenris quickly walked up behind Hawke and lifted her into his arms so that he could carry her to the bathroom. His mageling was shy and self-conscious, and so he waited outside while she relieved herself. When Hawke exited the bathroom, Fenris got to his feet once more and went over to her. "How does a nice, warm bath sound?" he asked her.

"Together?" she replied, her eyes wide and large. He offered her a roguish grin as an answer, causing her to return the smile before nodding her head yes. In a matter of minutes, Fenris had the bath tub filled with warm, soapy water and was stepping into it, his mageling carefully cradled in his arms.

Once they were both enveloped by the bath, Fenris cleaned Hawke with gentle hands, washing away his seed which had leaked and down on to her thighs during the night. When he was done, Hawke returned the favor, all but tearing the wash cloth from his hands. Despite her initial eagerness, however, Hawke was still shy. She blushed when her fingers lightly brushed against his prick even as his eyes darkened with lust.

It was a teasing caress, but Fenris knew that his mageling did not mean it as such. Still he had to do something to tame his growing arousal, to rein it in, and so he turned his attention to her chest. Hawke was blessed to have such breasts that were not only round and full but marvelously sensitive. She moaned in pleasure as he closed his lips around her nipple and suckled at her. It didn't take long until Hawke came apart in his arms from that alone.

Fenris got them both out of the tub as Hawke came down from her high. His mageling blinked up lazily at him as he dried them both off. "Will it always be that good?" she asked him.

"No," he said, lifting her into his arms so he could carry her back to better. "It will be better," he promised. He knew it would with time. There were so many things he had to teach her, to show her, but he had to wait and be patient until she had recovered enough for her next lesson. He laid her down in the bed and then took up the spot beside her. Hawke immediately turned to him and snuggled up against him.

Fenris learned that afternoon that Hawke was incorrigible when it came to cuddling. His mageling craved his touch in a way he didn't quite understand but thought he liked all the same. When he had been a slave, touch meant one of two things—either he was about to be punished for some perceived failing or he was about to receive some rough form of affection from one of the magisters he served. Hawke, however, seemed to take comfort from being so close to him—and as for him, he was happy that he was able to provide such comfort to the woman who somewhere along the line had become his world.

Author's note: My apologies for the late (and somewhat short) update. Unfortunately RL has interfered a bit with my writing schedule. My thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.