The sound of someone chuckling brought him back to the present. The faces of his mother and sister faded. No! Desperately he tried to hold onto the images that had so recently returned to him. There was no use. Even faster than they had come to him, they dissolved. The wall had returned, firmly blocking that part of his life again. He opened his eyes and Hawke's face appeared, grinning. It took Fenris some time to recall where he was and what had happened. The return of his memories had consumed him completely.

"What's so funny?" he grunted. It came out more aggressively than he had intended.

Hawke's grin faded somewhat. "Nothing, nothing," he said. The grin widened again. "It's just that I've never made someone glow before. That's a compliment for me, yes?"

Fenris looked down at his body and saw that Hawke was right. Every line of lyrium spread a soft, blue light. From neck to toes, he was glowing. The light gave Hawke's face a bluish tint. Although Fenris was not sure why, it embarrassed him. Those bloody markings drew enough attention already. There did not seem to be any situation in which he could actually be normal.

"I suppose that will come in quite handy when I have to get out of bed when it's still dark. My own personal nightlight," Hawke laughed. "You're like a pretty little glowworm. Or a firefly."

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Do you joke about everything, Hawke?"

"Or my own shining star," Hawke continued. "Yes, I think I'll stick with that. That sounds nice. Better than glowworm, huh?"

Fenris felt too confused to answer. He sensed there was something hidden in Hawke's humor, but the return of his memories occupied his thoughts too much to allow him to concentrate on anything else.

"And could you finally start calling me Damian? I'm getting tired of hearing my last name all the time. It's almost like nobody remembers my first name. I'm glad I'm at least named after a cool bird. What if my last name was chicken? Or pigeon? Would everyone call me that?" Hawke shuddered at the thought.

"You did call me a glowworm just now. I believe calling you a chicken in return would be justified." Fenris felt the corners of his mouth curl up. Even in the turmoil of emotions and thoughts that currently whirled through him, Hawke managed to make him smile.

Hawke's expression, however, turned serious when his gaze drifted over Fenris' chest. The light of the lyrium was dimming slowly. "Your markings... do they... react to me somehow?"

So he noticed. Fenris avoided meeting Hawke's eyes. "So it seems."

Hawke remained silent after that for a time. "It hurts, doesn't it?" he asked eventually.

Now Fenris turned his head to face Hawke. "I'm not made of glass, remember?" he sighed.

Hawke looked unhappy. "No, I know, but... I don't want to hurt you. I mean... that's not really the kind of thing that I'm into..."

"It doesn't matter."

"But do you know why they react to me? Is it because I am a mage? Or does this simply happen when someone touches you?"

"I don't know." He did not want to talk about this. He did not want to talk at all. He was sick of those vile things. He was sick of magic. The remembrance of Danarius was etched into his very being. No matter how far away he was, he would always bear the sign of the magister. What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil?

He felt Hawke's examining look linger on him. When Hawke cleared his throat, Fenris knew Hawke was going to ask a question he would not want to answer. "Danarius..." Oh yes, this was definitely something he did not want to answer. "He could do something with them as well, couldn't he?"

"Yes." Just leave it at that.

Surprisingly, Hawke did. Apparently he sensed that Fenris would not elaborate on Danarius' actions. Perhaps he did not want to know. Fenris did not blame him. In a flash, Danarius' triumphantly smiling face appeared before him. "That's right! Howl, my little wolf!"

Fenris shuddered. Now that the activity of his markings and the intimacy with Hawke had ceased, it grew cold in the room. The fire in the hearth was barely burning. When Hawke saw Fenris shiver, he pulled the blanket over them both. His smile returned as he pulled Fenris closer to him. "Better?"

Fenris nodded. Hawke let one arm rest on Fenris' chest. It felt warm and heavy. With his other hand, Hawke carefully touched the back of his head. "You know, you did give me quite a nasty bump by smacking me against the wall like that."

"You're a healer. Can't you just heal it?" Fenris tried to hide his discomfort by sounding nonchalant. Shoving Hawke against the wall was not something he wanted to be reminded of. He still did not understand what had gotten into him.

"I suppose I can, yes." Once again, that broad grin appeared. "But I think I will let it stay, as a reminder of this night."

"You are a very strange man, Haw... Damian." He meant it. He doubted there was a man to be found in the whole of Thedas that was even slightly similar.

Hawke stifled a yawn. "I get that a lot. Oh, I'm sorry. It's not that you bore me. I just get so..." Another yawn. "... sleepy after.. uh, well... sex. All that roaming the streets at night to get rid of all the thugs doesn't really help to get a good night's rest either." He let his head sink back against his pillow. "When I got up this morning I really did not expect the day to end like this."

"Neither did I."

"I have figured it out, by the way. About your armor. You don't sleep with it."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It would ruin your feathers."

Fenris laughed. "You got me there."

Hawke closed his eyes for a while. Fenris was starting to believe he had fallen asleep already, when he asked softly: "Fenris, do you hate me?"

Surprised, Fenris looked at him, but Hawke still held his eyelids closed. "What makes you say that?"

Hawke shrugged in his pillow. Then his eyes opened. "Well, as you said earlier, we don't really see eye to eye. Because I am a mage, and you don't like mages, and I help other mages, and you don't like that very much either. I've gotten a lot of angry looks from you in the years that I've known you. And let's not forget you just threw me against a wall."

Fenris shook his head. "I don't hate you. I've tried, honestly, but I just can't seem to hate you."

Hawke smiled faintly and closed his eyes again. "Good. I don't hate you either."

It did not take long before he started snoring, albeit not very loud.

No, he did not hate Hawke. He simply could not find it in him. But he hated what he was, hated what he stood for. Magic. Fenris let out a deep sigh. What was wrong with him? To trust a mage... had he not yet learned his lesson? Had he not yet seen enough examples of how magic corrupted man? What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil? He regretted saying the words aloud, in Hawke's presence, but he had meant it. He still meant it. Magic was a curse, not a gift or a blessing.

Magic had taken so much from him, a whole part of his life, and the part that it had left him was tainted by it. But tonight, he had gotten it back. All his memories had suddenly been there, fully complete. Fenris tried to recall the things that had come back to him only minutes ago. He focused as hard as he could, but he kept hitting the invisible wall that blocked off what he was trying to reach. He could not go further back than the pain: the agony of the lyrium being burned into his flesh.

Every life began with a scream; every infant cried when it took its first breaths of air. But no infant had screamed as he had then, no child had cried as he had at that unimaginable agony. He had screamed until his throat had felt like it would tear open and he had no longer been able to make a sound. He had wept until there had been no more tears left. And still the torture had continued. It had gone on and on, leaving no room for anything but the pain. He was only the pain. His existence had seemed defined by it. Eventually he could not even wish it would be over. He had had no idea how long it lasted, but when it had finally ended, he had not even noticed at first. Every fiber in his body ached, masking the absence of new pain.

With a lot of effort Fenris managed to free himself from the hold of this memory. As soon as it occupied his thoughts, it threatened to consume him completely, dragging him back into that terrible moment. Frustrated, he tried again. He had to go further back! There was more, his life had not started with that! He was more than pain and hatred. He had remembered! His sister. He had a sister, Hadriana had told him. He had remembered her, had he not? He had seen her. There had been something with... red hair? But he was not even certain whether it was the bright orange of Aveline's hair, or the dark auburn of Hawke. Or that his sister truly had had red hair. No matter how hard he tried, he kept hitting the wall of pain. There was no way to get past it.

Fenris forced back the tears of despair that welled up in his eyes. Oh, he had been a fool to think he could find comfort in the company of a mage. He was still struggling to remain free of Danarius' leash. No, not to remain free, to finally become free, he corrected. He was not free as long as Danarius breathed and was able to send soldiers after him.

"Your chains are broken, but are you truly free?" Was that not that what that mysterious witch on Sundermount had said? She was right. Even worse, now he was chaining himself to another mage. He was bound to Hawke. Because he owed him. Without Hawke, Danarius would have succeeded by now. Hadriana would have succeeded. But that was not all. That he owed Hawke, did not sufficiently explain what had happened tonight. Why it had happened. He felt... he did not even know what he was feeling. Fenirs looked at Hawke, who was sleeping peacefully. His hair, freed from the hold of the braid, was spread across his pillow. It turned out to be longer than Fenris would have guessed, now that it was loose.

Were demons lurking behind those closed eyes? Were they whispering to him, making promises, offering deals? The thought of his own experience in the Fade was enough to make Fenris' blood turn to ice. It had taken that terrible creature only a few words to make him turn on Hawke. The demon's voice had filled his head. It had created images in his mind, showing him what he could do with the powers it promised him. He would be able to defeat Danarius, all by himself. No help required from anyone. The price was small: kill Hawke. Those were the things the demon had made him believe. The way Hawke had looked at him when he realized he was about to betray him... Just remembering it made his stomach turn. And yet Fenris had barely hesitated as he pulled his blade from his back and raised it. Endless sadness had lain in Hawke's crystal blue eyes as he, in response, had pointed his staff at Fenris. His mouth had formed the words "I'm sorry" before he had hit him with a frost spell. That was the single time Fenris had experienced Hawke destructive instead of his healing powers. The ice had frozen him on his spot, before he could even manage the two steps it would have taken to get to Hawke. Their presence in the Fade had reduced the intensity of the pain, but still it had hurt. Millions of ice crystals had pierced his skin, spreading their cold till it had reached his bones. The fireball that followed had hurt even more, but that was all it took. After the fire struck Fenris had woken up in Arianni's small house. Isabela had already been awake. When she and the Dalish keeper had looked at him, he had known they knew. In his shame he could not find the courage to meet their piercing, questioning stares. Instead, he had focused his eyes on Hawke, who had still been lying motionless, along with Anders.

Waiting for Hawke to wake up had been nerve wrecking. Would the demons get to him now? Would Anders turn on him as well, now that his demon had taken over? What if he would never escape the Fade? Those terrible questions had haunted Fenris. But finally, after what had seemed like forever, Hawke and Anders had opened their eyes. Hawke had survived. The relief he had felt about that had been tempered by feelings of guilt and shame. He had uttered an apology and left the house as soon as possible. Later, when Hawke had come to visit him, Fenris had wanted to apologize more extensively, but instead he had ended up telling Hawke the betrayal was his fault. He should never have taken him into the Fade in the first place. Did he not understand that not everyone was as strong as he was? When a demon had approached Hawke with an offer, he had not even bothered to listen but simply slain the monster. Fenris had thought he could do that as well, but pride had proven otherwise. He was weak, and in more than one way. The more he had thought about it, the more he had gotten convinced Hawke was to blame. The shame of reality was just too much to bear.

All this time he had despised Merrill and Anders for their dealings with demons. Now he had proven he was no better than the nearest mage. "If you do this, you are no better than the magisters." And it was Hawke's fault. Without Hawke, he would never have been in the Fade, would never have been confronted with the demon. He would never have found out how low he could actually sink.

Killing Hawke... somehow the demon had managed to made him believe that was a small sacrifice for the power to gain his freedom. But it was not. It might be the only sacrifice he was not willing to make. If he had succeeded, Hawke would have been turned tranquil. With his sword he would have erased the bright sparkle in those beautiful eyes. Hawke would never have flashed his broad smile anymore. And it would have been his doing. Fenris did not believe he could have lived with that. The guilt of that deed would have rivaled the guilt he carried for murdering the Fog Warriors.

He placed a hand on Hawke's chest, right in the middle, where his heart was beating in a slow, peaceful rhythm. Small hairs prickled his fingers. The firm skin felt warm against the palm of his hand. He had been so close to... he still did not understand what had come over him tonight. Had he really wanted to kill Hawke? Had he really almost tried it again? That would mean two attempts on his life, and yet Hawke was sleeping right next to him, as if he had nothing to fear. Why would Hawke trust him after the way Fenris had betrayed him? Why was he not afraid to close his eyes in Fenris' presence? Hawke knew what Fenris had done before he had come to Kirkwall. He had been drunk and had told Hawke how he had killed all the Fog Warriors on command of Danarius. He had spoken to Hawke because he had felt the urge to talk about it after all those years, perhaps caused by the alcohol. But he had also told Hawke to warn him. Make it clear what he was capable of. And maybe part of him had just wanted to see whether Hawke would finally be scared off. Hawke had persisted in flirting with him over the years. So had Isabela, but somehow Fenris found Hawke's remarks more difficult to deflect. At his objections that he was an elf and an escaped slave and that that should be a problem, Hawke had looked at him as if he was absolutely insane. None of the doubts Fenris had himself, seemed to concern Hawke in the least. After all those times he had shown he could not be trusted, that his word meant nothing and that he was capable of murdering the very ones who helped him, Hawke had kissed him. The man must have a death wish for sure. Who would let a wolf into his bed? The Fog Warriors had trusted him and allowed him into their midst, and see where it had gotten them: their graves.

Somehow, Hawke saw reason to trust Fenris. But could he trust himself? What would he do if Danarius finally came for him? Danarius would now certainly want revenge for the death of his apprentice.

No, he would never make the same mistake as he had in Seheron. Turning on Hawke for the promises of a demon was one thing; doing the same for Danarius was unthinkable. He was no longer the person who had killed the only people who had ever cared for him because his master ordered it.

But what if... Danarius would get into his head like the demon had? What if his old master used blood magic to control him? How could he fight against something like that? Hawke was the only one who had been able to break the bonds of blood magic that the malifecar at the Blooming Rose had created. The rest of them had not been able to do anything but standing there like sleepwalkers. How could Fenris hope to defend himself against such vile power? Danarius was no doubt stronger than the fake prostitute. Kill Hawke. How could he ever have complied to that?

So he needed Hawke. It all came down to that. On his own, he would be lost. Hawke was his only chance, but at the same time he endangered Hawke by staying close to him.

"My own shining star." In the dark, Fenris' eyes widened. Would Hawke have meant those words? Had he actually been serious? That could not be true. Right? Could Hawke actually feel something for him?

Doom. Doom. Hawke's heart was still beating underneath his fingertips. Maybe he could... but no. Even if Hawke had been more than a bit serious in his flirting, how could Fenris be with him in that way? Being with Hawke... it would be a fantasy life. Fenirs could not afford slipping into another fantasy life. Last time the results had been disastrous. Danarius would appear sooner or later and tear it all apart, or Hawke himself would finally come to his senses and end the fairytale.

Love. An even bigger luxury than honor. You fool. Why are thinking about love anyway? This is not love. I don't know what it is, but it can't be love. Fenris was not even certain if he was capable of loving. During all those years of being on the run, his hatred for Danarius was what had sustained him. It had given him the strength to keep running and fighting, day after day. The promise that one day, Danarius would have to pay for what he had done to him, was what had kept him going. Hawke wanted him to let go of his hatred for Danarius, but that was impossible. Hadriana had proven today that he could not let it go. Hatred was all he had left. It was the only thing magic could not take away from him. If he ever had been capable of anything else, the memory of it was lost. Lost... twice. He had recalled all of it, his entire life. And then it had been gone again. If being with Hawke meant he would find and lose himself time after time... he could not do that. To find what he had been searching for so long, only to lose it... it was like part of him had died. Again.

He had to find himself. He wanted to be complete. He wanted to be more than hate. He had to know if he could be more... something else. But as long as Danarius lived, he would hate. As long as the magister's heart beat in his chest, Fenris could not move on. Unless... unless he would remember his old life, perhaps... if he could be a whole person... if he could find something inside him that was not stained by magic... maybe he could at least make a start with starting over. His sister was the key. If he found her, maybe he would remember. Or she could tell him. If anyone could help him, it was her. Tracking her would no doubt be difficult, if not dangerous. The chance that contacting her would alarm Danarius was enormous. Then again, Danarius already knew where he was. If he wanted, he could come to Kirkwall to take his revenge. Still, Fenris knew he would have to be careful. There was no need to be reckless. So how could he find her?

Doom. Doom. Doom. Hawke. Hawke. Hawke. Why can't I keep you out of my head? No matter what trail his thoughts followed, it always returned to Hawke eventually. The man that had come into his life, laughed, spun it 180 degrees around and kicked it upside down.

I shouldn't have done this. Why couldn't I stop? I wanted him. I really wanted him. It all felt so good. I need his help, so I apologized. This wasn't supposed to happen. I can't do this. I want to, but I can't... How did it all become such a mess?

He had to find his sister. Wait for some time to see if Danarius would come after him in person, and then begin the search for her. Without Hawke's help. He owed Hawke enough. Fenris already needed Hawke to fight Danarius. He would find his sister without him. He needed less of Hawke in his life. Clearly. That would give him the chance to figure things out. I don't know what things, but it's obvious that I need to figure out something.

Hawke was still snoring contently. Fenris took his hand from Hawke's chest and raised it to touch his hair. His beard. He stroked his lips, lightly, careful not to wake Hawke. They were slightly swollen. Did I do this? He touched his own lips.They felt full, plump. And bruised. He turned on his back and traced with the same hand one of the markings on his stomach, around his bellybutton. The skin was sticky with dried seed. His or Hawke's? Both.

He had to leave. He could not stay. The longer he lay here in the dark with Hawke next to him, the more his thoughts spun around in circles. Circles around Hawke.

Hawke's arm was still lying on his chest. Slowly, Fenris started to shuffle out from under it. Hawke's snoring stopped for a moment and Fenris froze in the awkward position with half of his body sticking out over the side of the bed. Hawke let out a sigh, then rolled to his other side. His arm lifted from Fenris' chest. The snoring started again. Relieved, Fenris completed his escape from the bed. On his toes, he moved around the bed, looking for his clothes. The only light came from the hearth. The fire was almost extinguished. Quietly and quick as a shadow he got dressed. Gauntlets. Where are they? He sneaked through the house, remembering he had taken one off in the hall and Hawke the other one on the top of the stairs. There was no one to be seen. The house was dark and quiet.