"You're making rather a habit of misplacing people, aren't you, my pet? Or is it 'losing' them? I never know how you mortals say it."
Hawke folded his arms and rolled his eyes, his casual stance belying the irritation and anger that bubbled up inside him. "What do you want?" he asked, affecting a bored tone.
"First that poor lad you…defiled, followed by your father, then that oafish brother of yours. What was his name? Cadaver? Oh, wait…that's what he ended up as. My apologies." The demon threw her head back and cackled.
"Is this going to take long?" Hawke snapped, and the look in her eye told him that she was satisfied she'd riled him.
"I just thought we could catch up," Synia said, feigning hurt, as she cupped one of her breasts in what she supposed was a seductive way. "It's been far too long."
"It hasn't been long enough. Just say what you've got to say, then fuck off," Hawke growled. "And don't bother with that tit-stroking nonsense. It doesn't work on me."
"Oh, that's right!" Synia's eyes lit up and she sauntered closer to Hawke, whose nostrils flared in disgust. "You've a penchant for those of the more…masculine persuasion, haven't you? And they don't come much more masculine than…Fenris, is it?"
The grotesque image of Synia shifted and rippled. Hawke blinked, and before him stood an almost- perfect representation of Fenris, minus his markings, that wore nothing but a lascivious smile.
"You want me, don't you?" the demon purred, using the elf's deep, gravelly voice.
"You honestly think I'd be turned on by that?" mocked Hawke with a bitter laugh. "You really have no idea, do you?"
"I had an idea once," said the demon. "After all, young Dalton wasn't your first, was he? Oh, no; I was."
"While you were pretending to be him!" Hawke blustered, his cheeks red with anger and frustration. Maker, how he wished he could cremate this incongruous facsimile of Fenris, and Synia with it.
"And what difference does that make?" asked the Fenris replica. "You enjoyed it, didn't you?"
"Stop using his voice!" demanded Hawke.
"Why don't you enjoy me, while you get the chance?" The false elf moved closer to Hawke, who could not move his feet, held in place by the demon's magic. "I know you want to fuck him; you may as well do it now, because he won't come anywhere near you once you tell him about our deal. You'll lose him just as you lost the others."
"Fletcher?" called an incorporeal voice, and Hawke's heart leapt in his chest.
"Ah, there he is; he asks for you. He cares for you, doesn't he?" the demon mocked.
"You have no idea what it means to care for someone," Hawke said angrily. "You're wasting your time. You're not catching me out like that again; I'm not a stupid kid anymore. Go and torment someone else."
"Hawke! Wake up!" a different voice called.
"Is that the possessed mage?" asked Synia excitedly, still using the voice and image of Fenris. "He has designs on you, you know."
"No he does not," Hawke argued, trying to steady his voice, knowing that she thrived on his discomfort.
"Oh, but he does, my pet. He wants more from you than mere friendship. The question is, what does he want? He's so hard to figure out, isn't he? Is he merely after that…body of yours," she asked in a seductive whisper, "or is it something else?" The demon placed a hand on Hawke's chest and ran it downward. "What does he have planned for you?"
Hawke grabbed the demon's wrist in a crushing grip. "Don't touch me," he growled, the warning in his voice obvious, but Synia, knowing he could not use his powers in her domain, was unfazed.
"Fine," the demon uttered, freeing itself from his grip. "Just looking after my investment. I wouldn't want the mage getting you killed or anything…before your time."
"I'm not interested in anything you have to say," Hawke insisted, although his eyes betrayed that Synia's warning about Anders had hit a nerve.
"Oh, really?" Synia laughed and turned her back on Hawke and backed into him, grinding the buttocks of the naked elf against Hawke's groin. "You're interested in this, though, aren't you?"
"Stop it," Hawke warned, his voice trembling, furious that Synia had used Fenris's image in this way, and he pushed the demon away, which did nothing to discourage it.
"Come on," Synia urged, turning to face Hawke. "You want the elf. Just fuck me now, and no one will ever know but us. He likes it up the fundament, doesn't he? Didn't his master used to…"
"That's enough!" bellowed Hawke, lashing out with his fist and belting the imposter elf across the face. The false Fenris crumpled to the ground and looked up at Hawke, his lip wobbling and tears spilling from his eyes.
"H-how could you, Fletcher?" wailed the demon. "I thought you loved me!"
"Stop this!" Hawke yelled, his voice choked with his own tears as the demon in Fenris's stolen form laughed mockingly at him.
"Fletcher! Wake up!"
"Hawke? Hawke! Come on, wake up! You're having a bad dream!"
The voices, so soothing only a moment ago, now battered his ears, jolting him awake, and he gasped, panic-stricken, at Anders and Fenris, who leaned over him, both looking worried.
"You are awake," said Fenris, exhaling in relief. "It is over. You had a nightmare."
"W-what did you hear?" blathered Hawke, swatting away Anders's hand as he attempted to mop Hawke's profusely-sweating brow.
"Hear?" asked Fenris with a confused look at Anders. "I…heard nothing of consequence; you were not making a great deal of sense. Something about a woman? Synia? But I did not fully comprehend it."
"You didn't-you didn't hear, then?" Hawke asked the elf fearfully.
"Hear what? I don't understand."
Hawke pushed himself onto his elbows, his breathing rapid and shallow. He started as Anders's hand rested on his brow, and his eyes darted around the cave wildly.
"What's wrong with him?" Fenris asked Anders.
"It might be his fever," Anders replied. "I need to bring it down; it's making him confused."
"Beth," Hawke blurted out, and he started to tremble. "I-I need to speak to Beth. Where is she?"
"She has gone for a morning stroll with Varric," answered Fenris, going to touch Hawke's arm, but Hawke flinched and scooted away.
"Hawke," Anders said firmly, "you have a high fever. Whatever it is you dreamed about, it's not real. You're safe."
"Somebody get Beth!" Hawke shouted, shrinking away from the two men, unable to look either of them in the eye.
"Shall I go?" offered Merrill, who stood a few feet away.
"No," answered Fenris quietly, getting to his feet. "I will go." He looked down upon Hawke for a moment, hurt and deeply concerned at seeing him so distressed, and then he glanced at Anders.
"He'll be all right," Anders assured him, hastily throwing some yarrow and catnip into his mortar. "I just need to get his fever down a bit. You'd better get his sister."
"You were the one who induced his fever in the first place," Fenris accused in consternation. "And now you are trying to bring it down? You are supposed to be healing him, not harming him!"
"Fine!" snapped Anders, throwing the pestle into the mortar. "You make the bloody medicine if you know better than me!"
"Stop arguing!" Hawke yelled, clutching the sides of his head. "I need Beth! Please…" His face crumpled, and, to Anders and Fenris's dismay, he began to whimper.
"Will someone please go and get his sister?" Anders demanded, again taking up his mortar and pestle and furiously pounding the herbs within.
Shame and guilt surging through him, Fenris nodded and, with one more glance at Hawke, he turned and quickly exited the cave.
"Who was she, Hawke?" Anders asked him pointedly once Fenris had left. "Is she…?" He glanced up at Merrill, who sighed and sat down next to Hawke.
"I know, Anders," she said simply.
"You know what?"
"She knows I'm a blood mage," Hawke replied irritably.
"My spirit's name is Audacity," she told them matter-of-factly. "What was the name of yours again?" she asked Hawke.
"Synia," he snapped.
"Can we not discuss this here?" Anders interjected angrily, pouring the crushed herbs onto a square of muslin, which he folded and tied. "I need some hot water, Merrill."
"You started it," she retorted, "and there's plenty over there," she said, pointing behind her towards the fire. Anders cast her a sour look, stood up and stomped over to the fire. Merrill shuffled a little closer to Hawke and gently touched his arm, keeping it there when he recoiled. "Does she torment you, Hawke?" she asked softly.
Hawke brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "I don't want to talk about it."
"I get on quite well with my spirit," she said with a shrug. "It might be that…Synia? Is a bit hurt that you're not using the powers she taught you."
"Hurt?" Hawke asked in disbelief. "Are you really that stupid? Your spirit gets on well with you because every time you use your powers, its hold over you increases! They're not capable of having hurt feelings, Merrill; they're demons!"
"You're wrong, Hawke," Merrill asserted. "They're just misunderstood. My spirit is kind and only wants to help me and my clan."
"And what exactly has this kind spirit done for you and your clan?" demanded an incensed Hawke, his fever and the visit from Synia having robbed him of patience or humour. "From what I can see, most of your clan is terrified of you and they more or less kicked you out. How has that helped them?"
"They don't understand," she replied sadly. "One day they'll see what I'm trying to do. Audacity has only ever wanted to help me."
"And what does he want in return?" Hawke asked.
"Nothing. He's never asked anything of me," she replied indignantly.
"I can't believe you're so naïve," Anders interrupted, returning to them with a mug of prepared medicine. "There is always a price. Your demon has just not issued its terms, yet. That will come."
"No, you're both wrong," she defended, shaking her head.
"He's tricked you, Merrill; can't you see?" Hawke retorted. "He must want something from you. I was tricked, as well, but at least I can see that."
"You were tricked?" Anders asked, surprised and intrigued. His eyes then moved to the cave entrance and he held his hand up, listening. "They're back; I can hear them coming. Now, stop talking about bloody demons and drink this," he said, pushing the mug into Hawke's hands. Merrill sighed and got to her feet.
As soon as Fenris re-entered, Anders noted with interest that Hawke immediately hung his head, fear etched onto his face. The warrior led Bethany over to her brother with Varric following, although the dwarf hung back a little. Fenris crouched down next to Hawke but refrained from touching him. "Your sister is here, now," he said in a soothing tone.
Hawke gulped and nodded, still unable to look Fenris in the eye. "Thanks, Fen. I-I need to speak to her alone."
"Yes, of course." There was hurt in Fenris's voice, as well as concern, but he felt he had no place demanding he be included in a private conversation, as much as he wanted to know what was going on. "I will take my leave." He stood up and nodded at Bethany, heaviness in his posture as he walked away, joined by Varric. Anders took up some of his equipment and moved further away, where he started on a new batch of medicine. Merrill left the cave to go for a walk.
"Fletcher?" Bethany knelt down next to her brother, who finally looked up to make sure everyone else was out of earshot, and she saw terror in his eyes as they caught hers.
"I-I need to go home," he whispered. "Now. I can't stay here any longer."
"Oh, dear brother, whatever's the matter?" She stroked his hair and moved a little closer. "Fenris said you had a bad dream. Did you…?" Her face dropped, then, and her expression hardened. "She visited you, didn't she?" she guessed.
"She-she masqueraded as him," he stammered. "I…I hit him, Beth!"
"It wasn't him, Fletcher," she said firmly.
Hawke nodded quickly, his breathing erratic. "I have to tell him. Today. He has to know about me. I won't have her using him like that again. I won't." Bethany clutched one of his trembling hands and glanced over at Anders, who was watching them but could not hear what had been said. He pointed to the mug next to Hawke and gestured for him to drink it.
"Here, take this," said Bethany, handing the medicine to her brother. "This will bring your fever down and will make you feel better."
Fletcher nodded and grasped the mug, taking a few sips. "He-he has to know, Beth; he has to be free to get away from me. I feel like he's been sullied. He deserves better than that. He d-deserves better than that…than-than me…" His eyes brimmed with tears and Bethany wrapped an arm around his shoulder, gently nudging the mug to encourage him to drink it. Her eyes wandered over to Fenris, who stood watching them, his face pinched with anxiety. Bethany gave the elf a thin smile and turned back to her brother.
"I'm not sure Anders will let you travel like this," she murmured. "Perhaps we could all go outside for a while, leave the two of you alone?"
"No," Hawke asserted, panic in his voice. "I have to tell him in private. I owe him that much, at least. I'm travelling whether Anders approves or not. And don't let him knock me out with his medicine!"
"I won't," she soothed. "Do you think you can manage the journey?"
"I'll manage it even if I have to crawl on my hands and knees," he vowed. "I'm not going to lie to Fenris for one more day. Not one more day! Everyone but him knows! I won't let that continue!"
Bethany nodded and stroked Hawke's arm, shushing him. "I'll go and talk to Anders," she said softly. After first ensuring that he'd drunk the medicine, she took the empty mug and walked over to Anders. Fenris remained where he was; although he did not know how, he wondered if he had somehow been the cause of Fletcher's distress, remembering the way Hawke had recoiled from him. He longed to go to Hawke's side, yet he didn't want to upset him further by imposing himself. Instead, he watched helplessly as Hawke again wrapped his arms around his knees, his eyes cast into his lap.
Bethany took Anders aside and lowered her voice. "Fletcher wants to go home."
"Out of the question," insisted Anders, shaking his head. "He still has a high fever and he hasn't had anything to eat. He's too weak."
"He's quite adamant, Anders," she replied. "Look; he needs to speak with Fenris. He's going to tell him…you know."
"That he's…?"
"Yes," Bethany answered. "He's insisting he does it today and he's very distraught about it. Is there anything you can do to strengthen him? I have a feeling he's going to leave whether we want him to or not."
Anders remained silent as he looked over at Fenris, who had not taken his eyes off Hawke since being sent from his side. Satisfaction and righteousness swelled within Anders's chest, knowing that Fenris would be devastated upon learning the truth, and would almost certainly forsake Hawke, but his feeling of triumph was also laced with something ugly, almost unclean, which he chose to ignore.
He laid a comforting hand on Bethany's arm. "I'll think of something, Beth. If telling Fenris today is so important to him, I'll do everything I can to ensure he gets his wish."
"Oh, thank you, Anders," Bethany replied with a relieved sigh, glancing over at her brother. "I'd better go and check on him."
As she went over to Hawke, Anders noticed Fenris walking towards him and had to firmly rein in a smug grin as the elf approached and softly cleared his throat.
"Anders," Fenris said stiffly.
"Fenris."
"I…owe you an apology," the elf began, looking Anders in the eye. "I did not mean to accuse you of not taking proper care of Hawke. I…panicked. You are not to blame for his condition; I know you are doing your best."
Taken aback, Anders gaped for a moment and took a deep breath, composing himself. "Erm…it's all right, Fenris; I think we're all a bit frazzled. Don't…don't worry about it."
Fenris dipped his head a little. "Thank you. And also for everything you have done for him." Fenris cleared his throat again and nodded once before heading over to Varric, where he continued his distant vigil over Hawke.
Anders stared after him, and his stomach flipped, the ugly, unclean sensation intensifying. He pushed it down, and set to work on a new batch of medicine that would hopefully imbue Hawke with enough strength to make the journey home.
~o~O~o~
Once Hawke had taken a few doses of Anders's medicine, he declared that he felt a little stronger, and, with assistance from Anders and Bethany, stood up and took a short walk around the cave, although it was obvious that he was still quite unwell. Anders knew that Hawke wasn't fit enough to journey down the mountain, but helped him to do so anyway, and a temporary truce was reached between him and Fenris, each of whom wrapped an arm around Hawke to support him.
It was decided that several stops would be needed on the way down, and Bethany, Varric and Merrill scouted ahead to ensure that the path was safe and clear. By the time they reached the foot of Sundermount, Hawke was struggling to remain upright, but, despite pleas from Fenris and Bethany to rest at the Dalish camp for the rest of the day, Hawke insisted on pressing on. Anders gave him another dose of his fortifying medicine, but it had little effect.
"You're exhausted, Hawke," Anders told him. "You need to sleep for a while. If you'll let me-"
"You are not putting me to sleep!" Hawke exclaimed with a wild look in his eyes, terrified that he would be visited again. "I can make it home. Now, stop fussing over me and let's get going!"
"Fletcher," Fenris said, gravely concerned that not only was Hawke endangering himself, but also that he hadn't once looked Fenris in the eye since he'd woken from his dream, "Anders is correct. You must rest."
"No, Fenris," replied Hawke in a softer tone. "I have to get home. Please, don't argue. Just-just help me." He finally looked at Fenris, and the sadness in his eyes stole Fenris's breath away. "I-I'm sorry, Fen, truly, I am."
"What are you sorry for?" Fenris asked gently. "You have done nothing wrong."
Hawke once again averted his eyes. "I…Beth…I need to speak to Beth. Please."
Fenris and Anders helped Hawke to sit on a tree stump and moved a short distance away while Bethany went over to talk to him.
"Beth, I want you and Varric to go on ahead, warn Mother that we're on our way," he told her.
"Brother," she protested, "you need to rest first. Just have an hour or two…"
Hawke ignored her concerns and continued. "You know that little chest that I brought from Lothering? The locked one?" His eyes moved to his left as he delved into his memory, and he shook his head. "I can't remember where the key is. Varric can pick the lock. Tell him he has my permission. There are a couple of books in there I want you to take out…"
"Books? Fletcher, what are you on about?"
"Just listen to me," he continued. "Remember the books I had when I was a kid? The one about the lazy dog and the one with the farmyard animals?"
A bemused Bethany sighed and nodded. "Yes, I know which ones you mean."
"Take them out and have them ready for when we get back; I want to give them to Fenris...before I tell him. I want him to continue with his reading. He's doing so well, Beth; he-he's really learning fast…I don't want this to spoil that."
"Fletcher…you don't know what's going to happen. I'm sure that you and Fenris will come through this, and that you'll be able to continue with his reading lessons."
Hawke shook his head sadly. "No…I-I don't think…" He took a deep breath and straightened up. "Please, Sister, just do as I ask."
"Oh, Fletcher," she sighed. "All right, if that's what you want."
"Thanks, sis. I knew you wouldn't let me down." Hawke slumped in relief, and Bethany went over to the others, who were talking quietly amongst themselves.
"Bethany," Anders whispered, "I'm going to put him to sleep. Fenris has agreed; it's for his own good. We can still make it back before evening. I just want him to get a couple of hours."
Bethany glanced over at her brother, and, knowing how much a visit from Synia disturbed him, she shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Anders. I agree that he needs to rest, but I ask that you don't put him to sleep. He doesn't want to have another bad dream," she said pointedly.
"I can induce a dreamless sleep," Anders explained. "I know he'll be pissed off at me, but he has no strength left. There's only so much I can do."
"Hey, someone's coming," Varric muttered, and they all turned to face an elderly male Dalish, who greeted them with a small bow.
"Andaran atish'an, travellers."
Merrill stepped forward and returned his bow. "Andaran atish'an, Hahren." She turned to the others and gestured to the new arrival. "This is Hahren Paival, the elder of my clan."
The others respectfully bowed to Paival. "I see that one of your company is gravely ill," he said with a glance over at Hawke, who was slouched on the tree stump, having nodded off of his own accord. "We have been watching your descent. Keeper Marethari recognises your companion as a friend of the Dalish, and has arranged for a quiet place for him to rest. You are all welcome to stay, but I must ask that you take your leave, da'len," he said to Merrill, although his tone was free of reproach. "I fear your presence is causing unrest among the people."
The group had been so preoccupied with Hawke that they'd failed to notice that the Dalish had formed several small groups around the camp, and some individuals held their weapons ready.
"Abelas, Hahren," Merrill said sadly, hanging her head. "I will leave now, if it helps Hawke."
"We'll go with you, Daisy," Varric said with a nod at Bethany. "I doubt we're needed here."
"Yes, I need to return home, anyway," Bethany added, and she looked over at Fenris, who was too fixated on Hawke to notice. "I'll return a little later."
"So, you will remain with him?" Paival asked Anders and Fenris.
"Yes, ser," Anders answered as Fenris walked over to Hawke and started to gently rouse him.
"Please bring him this way," Paival said with a nod toward a group of small tents. "I will fetch one of our healers. Know you what ails him?"
"I'm a healer, ser, and I've been treating him."
"Then why, may I ask, did you bring him down the mountain?" asked the elder calmly. "The journey has clearly taken a hard toll on him."
"He insisted," Anders replied with a shrug. "He's a healer as well, and thinks he knows best."
"Ah, a story I have heard oft-repeated," said Paival with a grim smile. "Often, healers make the worst patients of all."
Bethany walked over to Fenris and Hawke, who was now awake. "Brother, you're to stay here for a while," she stated.
"No, Beth-" He tried to stand up but his legs gave way, and Fenris lowered him back onto the tree stump.
"You cannot go on," Fenris scolded him. "Even your stubbornness will not carry you."
"I'm going to come back later," Bethany went on, steel behind her soft words, "and I'll bring those things you wanted."
"But, Beth," Hawke protested weakly.
"Do not argue," Fenris counselled in a conspiratorial whisper. "Your health will surely suffer further should you engage in a battle of wills with a tenacious woman."
Normally, Hawke would have laughed at that, but instead his heart sank as Fenris and Bethany helped him to his feet, and Anders jogged over, taking Bethany's place at her brother's side.
"I'll see you soon, Brother." Bethany kissed Hawke's cheek and gave a vague nod to Fenris and Anders.
"Dareth shiral," the elder said to Bethany's group; he then nodded to Anders and Fenris, and they supported Hawke – who realised the futility of further argument - as they followed Paival into the camp.
~o~O~o~
Hawke's eyes flickered open and he found himself lying on a soft cot inside a small tent, the front of which was open. Just outside, he could see Anders talking to one of the Dalish, who Hawke assumed was a herbalist or healer, as the two men were talking animatedly while exchanging several small pouches and bunches of herbs. The violet tinge to the sky indicated that the sun was about to set, meaning that several hours had passed by.
"You are awake."
Hawke turned to his side to find Fenris, who sat upon a small stool beside the cot, looking down at him. Immediately, a wave of dread crashed against Hawke's insides as the reality of his situation returned to him, and he slumped onto his back, staring at the ceiling of the tent.
"You are a stubborn fool, you know," Fenris remarked quietly, and there was kindness and humour in his voice. "Had you not insisted we travel down the mountain when we did, you may have been fit to attempt the entire journey home by now."
A bitter rasp escaped from Hawke's throat, and he glanced sidelong at Fenris, who was watching him expectantly. "Your colour has returned," said the elf with a tentative smile, and he reached for Hawke's cheek, withdrawing his hand as Hawke visibly stiffened. For a second, Fenris got a taste of how Fletcher must have felt when at first Fenris had shied away from his touch. The elf's smile faded, his expression giving way to the anxiety that Hawke had observed earlier in him, and Hawke closed his eyes, feeling wretchedly guilty.
"Fletcher," Fenris ventured warily, "I realise it is selfish of me to ask this of you when you are ailing…" He cleared his throat and sat up straight. "I wondered…have I…displeased you in some way?"
His eyes still closed, Hawke shook his head emphatically, loath to speak as he was certain his voice would break, but he did so anyway. "No, Fenris…I-" His words ended abruptly as he gasped and clutched at his chest, squeezing his eyes closed.
"Anders!" Fenris barked, and the mage came running inside. "He cannot breathe!" he exclaimed in alarm, grabbing Hawke's hand, feeling utterly useless.
"He's hyperventilating," Anders murmured, helping Hawke to sit up. "I don't get it…his fever's come down, and he wouldn't have dreamed while he was asleep…Hawke!" he said firmly. "You need to take deep breaths!"
"My-my chest!" Hawke choked out, clutching at the front of his robe, grimacing. Anders quickly placed his hands over Hawke's heart and Fenris felt the edges of his markings burning.
"His heart's fine," Anders announced. "I think he's having a panic attack. Hawke! Take deep breaths! Do as I say!"
Fenris watched, feeling all of his control and will fall out from beneath him, as Hawke took several short, gasping breaths, his skin ashen and aglow with sweat.
"You're not going to die; you're safe!" Anders said with authority. "Take a deep breath! You can do it!" Hawke gulped and nodded, and drew a stuttering breath which was released in a harsh burst. "Again!" ordered Anders, his hand on Hawke's shoulder, and Hawke took a deeper breath this time, releasing it more slowly. "That's it…keep going," Anders encouraged. After a few more attempts, Hawke's breathing slowed, and he placed his head in his hands, which were trembling. Fenris finally released the breath he had been holding the entire time. Not until Anders was certain that Hawke had recovered did he speak again.
"Here," Anders said, taking a small piece of what looked like tree bark out of a pouch that hung from his waist. "Chew on this. You'll be fine. I'm going to get you some food; your stomach should be able to take a light meal, now." Hawke slowly removed his hands from his face and took the piece of bark, placing it in his mouth, his mien and posture submissive and defeated.
"Fenris, may I speak to you?" Anders asked the elf in a tone that was more an order than a request, and he walked out of the tent.
Fenris remained where he was for a moment and looked down at Hawke, who, yet again, failed to make eye contact with him. Fear gripped his heart and he blinked several times, realising that his own breathing had quickened. "I will return shortly," he said in barely a whisper, not sure if Hawke even cared, and slowly walked out of the tent towards Anders, who stood with his hands on his hips.
"What did you say to him?" Anders hissed quietly, but the accusation in his words was loud and clear.
"Nothing of import to you," Fenris snarled, immediately put on the defensive.
"You must have said something to set him off! People don't have panic attacks for no reason!"
"Not that it is any business of yours, but I asked him…" Fenris's face dropped as he considered his question to Hawke. "I merely…" He sighed and looked at the ground. "I asked him if I had done something to displease him. That is all. He-he will not look at me, and I do not know why. If I caused this…I do not know how."
Anders backed down from his belligerent stance and the two men stood in awkward silence for a few minutes. "I don't…I don't think you've done anything wrong, Fenris," Anders said quietly, surprised at the sudden rush of sympathy he felt for the elf; for both Fenris and Hawke.
"I don't understand," Fenris murmured. Although Anders was the last person he would choose to confide in, there was no one else around that Fenris knew, and his confusion and fear got the better of him. "I feel as though…oh, it doesn't matter. I am being selfish. Perhaps you should return to him; he seems to be more comfortable in your company."
Fenris turned his back on Anders and folded his arms, watching the sun set over Sundermount, his shoulders drooping under the weight he felt upon them. Anders stared at the elf for a short while before saying quietly, "His sister will be back soon; she said she'd be here shortly after sundown. Maybe…maybe things will become clearer, then." Receiving no answer from Fenris, he walked over to the Dalish herbalist, who directed him to where he could get a bowl of soup for Hawke.
Bethany and Varric arrived just as the sun dipped behind the mountains, and, after first announcing themselves to Keeper Marethari and Hahren Paival, they were shown to Hawke's tent, finding Fenris standing alone outside.
"He is inside," Fenris told Bethany without preamble, knowing that she would be anxious for news of her brother's condition. "He has eaten and is recovering well."
Bethany nodded and glanced at Varric, who, taking the hint, went inside the tent, leaving Bethany and Fenris alone.
"How are you doing, Fenris?" she asked.
"Me? I-I am well, thank you," he replied, surprised and confused that Bethany seemed concerned for him, when her brother could barely talk to him, much less look at him.
Bethany tilted her head slightly and gave Fenris a sympathetic look.
"Do you-" Fenris's heart and breathing once again quickened, and he took a step closer to Bethany, lowering his voice. "You know, don't you? You know something…will you tell me what is going on? Please?"
Bethany sighed and placed her hands on Fenris's arms. "You know that we think a lot of you, don't you, Fenris? My family, I mean. Fletcher…he hasn't been this happy for a long time. All right, I know he doesn't seem happy at the moment, but since he met you, well, I have my old Fletcher back; the one I had before Carver died. That's thanks to you, Fenris. You make him happy, and I want you to know how much I appreciate that."
Fenris's brows knitted together, as her words touched him, but left him even more confused.
"Fletcher…" Bethany sighed again and released Fenris's arms. "He's going to talk to you about something. Will you do a favour for me?"
Fenris, still baffled, nodded silently.
"Just listen to him," she said softly. "Hear him out. What he has to tell you will not be easy for you to hear, nor will it be easy for him to say. He loves you, Fenris, and wouldn't hurt you for the world."
"He…?" Fenris's mouth gaped open and he stared at Bethany, lost for words.
She nodded. "Please remember that. And also remember that he's a good man. We all make mistakes." Fearing that she'd said too much, Bethany backed away a step. "I'm just going to pop inside, and then we'll give you some privacy. I won't be long."
Leaving a bewildered Fenris behind, she entered the tent, emerging a short time later with Anders and Varric, whom she'd instructed to look as nonchalant as possible.
"We're going for a walk around the camp," she announced.
"Are we?" Anders asked, feigning ignorance.
"Yes," she said firmly, and gave a brief nod to Fenris as they walked away.
His eyes followed them until they were a distance away, and then his gaze slowly wandered over to the tent. He was about to get the answers he so desperately sought, and yet his feet remained fixed in place. Something awaited him within that tent that he wasn't sure he wanted to face; that he wasn't sure he could face. He suspected what it was: this was what he'd feared all along, but he'd allowed himself to be carried along on fanciful notions of love, companionship and trust. He should have been better prepared for when Fletcher told him. That he wasn't good enough for him. That he didn't want to get serious. That it had all been a mistake.
But then Bethany's words came back to him and his eyes once again sought her out, but she, Varric and Anders were out of sight. He sighed. Why would Fletcher be ending it if he loved Fenris as his sister claimed?
Closing his eyes for a moment, he swallowed hard and opened them again, staring at the tent. He took one step forward, then another, looking down at his feet, clad in the slippers Fletcher's mother had made for him.
You do know that we think a lot of you, don't you, Fenris?
~o~O~o~
Fletcher sat on the edge of his cot, turning the books over in his hands, wishing he'd taken better care of them. They were dog-eared and faded, and one book was missing its cover. Hardly a fitting gift for the man he-
He tutted and placed them to his side, running his fingers through his hair. Why had Beth insisted on bringing them here? Why had she gone all that way and back just for a couple of books? Why had he thought this was a good idea in the first place? What was he supposed to say to Fenris?
Hey, Fenris, I'm a blood mage, but here, have some tatty books. They should make you feel so much better!
"Idiot," he growled under his breath. "You stupid fucking idiot."
The front covering of the tent was quietly pulled back, and Hawke's breath caught as Fenris entered, his eyes cast downwards. He carefully closed the cover and straightened it out, hesitating before turning toward Hawke and forcing himself to look up.
Hawke met his eyes for the first time that day.
"Fenris," he said quietly, discreetly pushing the books out of sight.
"Fletcher." Fenris nodded once and folded his hands across his belly, still standing at the entrance. "You are looking well. Do you feel any better?"
There was a rough, terse quality to Fenris's voice and Hawke nodded, gesturing to the stool next to the cot. "Come in, Fenris," he invited.
Fenris looked at the stool and decided it was too close to Fletcher. He could at least maintain a sliver of control by choosing to keep some distance between them. "I…will stand. You wanted to speak to me?"
It then finally dawned on Hawke that Fenris knew something was wrong. Of course he knew: Hawke had flinched at his touch and had refused to look him in the eye all day, after Fenris had opened his heart to him only the night before. The poor man must be beside himself. Hawke felt a fluttering in his chest and took a few deep breaths, releasing them slowly, as Anders had advised if he felt anxiety building within him again.
Fenris cocked his head slightly and took a step forward. "Are you well? Should I fetch Anders?"
"No. I-I don't want Anders." I want you. I love you and I'm about to ruin everything. Why didn't I tell you from the start? "Fenris, I have to tell you something that I should have told you when we first met. For what it's worth, that is the worst mistake I've ever made; even greater than the one I'm about to tell you about, and I regret it more with each moment that passes."
Fenris remembered Bethany mentioning a mistake, and also that Fenris should hear Fletcher out. A glimmer of hope warmed his belly; perhaps Fletcher was not about to end things between them, after all?
"Is this what you were talking about last night?" Fenris asked, taking another step closer. "When you alluded to having a 'dark side'? I told you then that it would not matter; whatever it is, it will not change anything. You have seen the worst of me and I will accept the worst of you. Is that not what…couples do?"
Hawke faced away from Fenris, fighting back tears that Fenris considered them a couple, and angrily told himself to get a grip. He had no right to be upset.
"Fletcher?" Fenris's voice was full of concern and Hawke held a hand up, once again following the breathing exercises.
"Fenris…" Hawke turned to face him but couldn't bring himself to look at him. "Please, I want you to sit down."
With a slow nod, Fenris took a seat on the small stool, facing the entrance, while Hawke sat at a right angle to him. "Tell me," Fenris urged softly, his head turned toward Hawke.
For a moment, Hawke considered trying to soften the blow by telling Fenris exactly how much he meant to him, that he was in love with him, but what good would that do? And did he have the right to burden Fenris with yet more emotional baggage? Fenris needed to be free to choose without that millstone around his neck.
Hawke sat further back on the cot, putting as much distance between them as he could. Not because he feared that Fenris would lash out, but because he felt that Fenris would need that space.
"Oh, Maker…" Hawke brought his hands up to his face, covering his nose and mouth. "When-when I was younger, I…no, no. I promised myself I wouldn't string this out. I…Fenris…I-I know blood magic. I made a deal with a demon several years ago."
Song and soft laughter drifted into the tent from outside; the Dalish were taking supper and giving thanks to the Creator for their bounty. Inside the tent, however, the silence was stark, penetrating, absolute; the air within was still, eerily so, and Hawke recalled being caught in the eye of a hurricane on the farm when was a lad. Everything seemed to have stopped.
Fenris, too, had stilled. He was as a statue, the rise and fall of his chest barely discernible. Hawke nervously glanced up at him but the elf's expression was partly hidden by his hair, which fell across his eyes. Only the hard set of his mouth and jaw were visible.
"I-I know this must be a terrible shock to you, Fenris," Hawke said, his voice thick. "I want you to know that I didn't keep it from you for malicious reasons. I didn't know that things would…you and I…I never imagined that things would…that we'd become so close. And by the time I realised that I had feelings for you, I felt I'd left it too late. Every day since then I've agonised over telling you. I've wanted to. I…" He stopped himself. Fenris didn't need to know how it had affected Hawke. It was nobody's fault but Hawke's that he'd left it so long.
"Tell me," Fenris uttered, his voice a distant rumble of thunder: barely audible, but with a latent menace. "Tell me this is one of your…jokes."
"I'm sorry," Hawke breathed, his voice and hands quaking.
The silence resumed and stretched out between them; although only a few feet separated them, that short distance now seemed an impassable gulf. Hawke longed to bridge that gulf, to reach out and make contact with a touch or a word, but somehow knew he should not violate Fenris's space without an invitation to do so.
Fenris, whose posture betrayed no signs of anger or melancholy, sat up slightly and licked his lips, his face still partially obscured. "Why are you telling me this now?" There was injury in his voice, and Hawke knew he must tread carefully: the most dangerous animal was a wounded one.
"Because I can't go on lying to you."
"Yes. That is precisely what you have been doing."
Hawke nodded, knowing that all of the effort it had taken for Fenris to trust someone – particularly a mage – had just been destroyed, as surely as any feelings for Hawke that Fenris had. "I know," Hawke whispered. "If it means anything at all, I'm…sorry. You have no idea how much."
Fenris pushed himself up with such speed that it startled Hawke, and started to pace, but did not look in Hawke's direction. "You cannot be a blood mage. I have never seen you use it. Even in the direst of situations you have not called upon it. If this is your idea of a joke, Hawke, I do not find it amusing in the slightest!"
Hawke flinched at the use of his family name as opposed to Fletcher, and drew a steadying breath, though it did little to calm his shredded nerves. "I learned it when I was a young lad," he related. "I used it once and have never used it again. I never intend to use it again. It was a terrible mistake and I want nothing to do with it."
"And does your demon-" Fenris's voice wavered and he straightened himself up, his back to Hawke. "And does your demon have nothing to say about that? It quite happily accepts that you are not sustaining it? You are telling me that, are you?"
"I would have no part of her if I had a choice," Hawke replied. "But no, she is not at all happy, and she sometimes visits me in the Fade, where she takes great pleasure in insulting my loved ones or dredging up painful memories. She visited me last night, and that is why I was so upset earlier today. You did nothing wrong, Fenris, and I'm deeply sorry if I gave you that impression. I knew I had to tell you and I just couldn't look you in the eye."
"It visits you?" Fenris asked in disgust, shaking his head. "So, while I was worrying over you having a nightmare, you were, in fact, consorting with it?"
"I had no choice!" Hawke protested. "I have no control over when she visits me. She usually turns up at times of emotional stress, just to stick the knife in. I'm not friends with her, trust me."
"So, I am meant to pity you? This is why you are telling me?" demanded Fenris, still facing the entrance, his arms crooked at his sides, his hands clenched.
"No," Hawke whispered. "You shouldn't feel sorry for me. I-I know how badly I've hurt you…"
"You have no idea!" Fenris wheeled around, his eyes bright with fury and full of anguish. "No idea at all, Hawke! I thought…" Hawke stood up, aghast, as tears coated Fenris's eyes and the elf once again turned away from him, releasing a shaky sigh. "I thought you were different."
"I am different," entreated Hawke, his own eyes blurred with tears. "Will you let me tell you what happened? Why I did it?"
"Why you did it? What other reason could there be? You were offered power and you took it. Do not claim any noble reason for treating with a demon. You would insult both of us by doing so."
"I didn't do it for power!" Hawke exclaimed, anger creeping into his voice. "I did it to help someone! We're not all like Danarius, Fenris! I'm sorry, but we're not!"
"You didn't do it for power," Fenris repeated wearily. "You would not believe how many times I have heard that."
"Please, Fenris, just let me explain-"
"No. I have no wish to hear your excuses," Fenris spat, and his stomach lurched, hot, nauseating bile rising in his gullet. "I…need some air."
"Of-of course," Hawke said, clearing his throat. "If you…if you want to go, I'll understand."
Fenris slowly turned around, his icy glare causing Hawke to start. "Go? Do you think so little of me that you believe I would abandon you while you are ill?"
"No, I-I didn't mean that, Fenris-"
"My word is not given lightly, Hawke," Fenris seethed, his eyes flashing. "Perhaps you should consider what that means." Fenris's jaw, as well as his hands, had started to tremble, and, without another word, he turned and threw back the flap of the tent, stalking away into the darkness.
Avoiding the eyes of the Dalish, most of whom were sat around a huge fire that had been built in the centre of the camp, Fenris slunk behind Master Ilen's store, which had been closed for the day. Leaning against the wooden counter, he slid to the ground, his mind careering, unable to hold a thought for long before it slipped away, another taking its place in the blink of an eye.
There had been signs, hints, that Fletcher was a blood mage, but Fenris had chosen to dismiss them as the workings of his imagination, the product of his mistrust. The strongest hint yet had come during the confrontation with Hadriana, when the Dalish blood mage and Fletcher had descried sigils of magic that Bethany could not, but Fenris had been too consumed with putting an end to Hadriana to pay much heed.
He should have paid heed. He should have known. He'd let his misguided feelings for Hawke blind him to what he really was. Fenris told himself he'd been a gullible fool. Hawke was no different from any other mage Fenris had ever encountered: weak, selfish and with an innate craving for power that Hawke could no more resist than Fenris could have prevented himself from falling in love with the man who'd just broken his heart. Humiliation, rage and grief manifested themselves as a raw, biting pain in his chest, and his face contorted, his body rocking gently as he wrapped his arms around himself.
He should hate Hawke. He should put as much distance between them as possible, he knew that. But he'd given his word to stand at his side. And the reason he'd done that?
Because he couldn't imagine life without him.
A fresh film of tears coated his eyes as he gazed up at the starless sky, and felt its vast emptiness fill him.
"What do I do now?" he implored the night.