Chapter nine- Sundermount

Cannot believe I've even got this far! Im not too bothered about reviews as this is more of a personal project for me to help with my writing skills.

Did I mention my beta reader? No? Well Enchantm3nt has been a very big help from the start!

Thank you for the review NecromancerLuna! :3

x

He did not sleep that night, he couldn't, there was too much to think about, to worry over. Whatever satisfaction he had felt in defeating the slavers had been short lived when he realised Danarius was not in the city too. At least he still had his freedom though and now he had a mansion too. He was not used to having a roof over his head, a bed to lie on, a fire to warm himself with. It was nice and very strange. But of course he couldn't relax; not truly, there was always a worry at the back of his mind, a little voice telling him to stay alert, to keep moving. There was no way to know for sure all of the slavers had been dealt with and he had spent much of the night patrolling the perimeters and watching the courtyards below. Thoughts of the mage – Hawke – had been playing through his mind much of the night too, she was… an enigma and he quickly found himself frustrated by thoughts of her.

When dawn finally came he got himself ready for the day ahead. He wasn't sure what to make of this new group; he was so used to being alone. It would be good to have people to watch his back but at the same time it was just more people that could betray him. He didn't have to trust them to work with them though; he just needed to coin and to repay his debt to this Hawke woman. And should any of them try to betray him he had information on her, he doubted many in the city knew she was an apostate, he wouldn't have known if she hadn't saved her brother's life with her magic and inadvertently saved Fenris too. Despite not wanting to remain in Hawke's company he couldn't help but be a little curious – why didn't she use her magic? Why was her hair white?

Venhedis! You are letting this mage make you weak!

Remaining in the mansion thinking about a mage was not how he wanted to spend his morning so he left for the Hanged Man. It didn't take long to reach Lowtown; the streets were quite quiet this early in the day. He walked in through the door, his nose crinkling slightly at the smell of stale sick that wafted through the air. He scanned the room but saw no sign of Hawke, he was about to leave when the dwarf he had met the day prior called out to him,

"Hey, uhh, Fenris, was it?" he asked and Fenris nodded in answer. "She's not here yet. Why don't you come into my room and meet the gang?"

Fenris followed the dwarf, albeit a little reluctantly, up the stairs at into the room at the top. There were several people gathered around a long table, an exhausted looking blond man who was nursing a warm beverage and a Rivaini woman who looked up at him before giving him a predatory smile.

"Oooh, this one is pretty, Varric," she cooed as she ran her eyes up him. Fenris cleared his throat a little awkwardly.

"Rivaini! Keep those metaphorical knickers on until Hawke gets here! And yes, we all know you don't wear a pair of the real ones you minx!" the dwarf joked.

"Well, Fenris. This lady to your right is Isabela. If you're up for some fun go to her but after I recommend you go to Anders here," he pointed at the blond man with the ponytail, "as he may have to get rid of a few hundred infections. He's our healer."

Venhedis! Another mage.

Fenris clenched his jaw and merely nodded to the man and woman he had just met. He would repay the debt and then he would leave. Hawke was obviously an idiot as well as a mage. Before Fenris could delve into his pool of hatred once again, the dwarf made him resurface.

"Elf, you look starved, have some bread," he said, pointing to the bowl of bread at the centre of the table.

Fenris did not need to be told twice, he grabbed a roll and began eating. It was delicious, soft and doughy with a crusty shell, heaven compared to the stale scraps he had been used to on the run. The healer, Anders was watching him as he ate, scrutinising him, Fenris stared him down until the mage turned away and listened to the dwarf chatting to the Rivaini woman.

He continued eating as he observed the others chatting, his perfectly sculpted self-control was the only thing stopping him from eating the entire bowl in one sitting. It had been so long since he had eaten food this good. Just as he grabbed another roll Hawke's brother and the Guard Captain entered the suite, greeting everyone with warm hellos before taking a seat.

The dwarf looked around the room, "Where is Hawke?" he asked

"She's been delayed by guardsman Perrin," her brother said, almost gleefully. The Hawke sibling's eyes immediately turned to the mage whose lips were mashed together tightly and eyes had become steely. Fenris sensed that it had given Carver great pleasure in telling the mage that Hawke had been delayed by another man.

"Oh, has she now?" Varric replied with a wicked grin on his face.

"Yes, he has expressed some interest in her," Aveline added to the gossip.

"And I wish him all the luck in the world, he'll need it with Aria," Carver chortled, accepting the beverage the dwarf had pointed out to him.

Hawke had never told him her first name, and it seemed only her family ever called her by it. The people of Lowtown spoke highly of Hawke but never of Aria. It didn't really sound menacing, Fenris thought logically. If Anso had told him that he had got the infamous Aria to aid him he would have smacked the dwarf there and then. It also confused him why her brother was not bothered that a man sought to have his way with his sister, he knew if he had one he would not let a man near unless their intent was pure. It seemed Carver Hawke was very much like his sister; odd.

"Oh and why is that, sweet cheeks? "Isabela purred as she gave him her best smile, throwing Carver off guard for a moment as if he was dazed.

"Ask her," Carver stated bluntly.

He heard Hawke's laughter above the noise of the bar, even though it was morning some patrons had come in to start the ale early.

"I'd rather not have my nose broken thank you," Varric chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

"I find a woman with a lot of secrets sexy, "Isabela thought out loud as if daydreaming of something involving her and Hawke. Fenris swallowed a lump in his throat at the very thought.

The guard captain snorted at Isabela. "You'd find anything with a pulse sexy, whore."

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy, man hands?" Isabela countered.

As if Hawke had been summoned by her name she sauntered into the room making everyone go silent. Fenris looked over at the mage and saw that he looked at Hawke with desire and admiration. Of course he would, an apostate would respect another apostate especially since Hawke was an infamous, deadly apostate. His skin started to crawl as he imagined Anders and Hawke and their apostate children.

"My ears are burning, were you all talking about me?" Hawke asked lightly as she sat down next to the healer, to his obvious delight.

"That depends, Hawke, was it your left or right ear burning?" Varric mused.

"Right is love, left is spite, right?" Aveline asked, obviously trying to remember the old saying.

Hawke chuckled. "What if it was both?"

Varric smirked. "Well then maybe you should get Blondie here to check them, you might be coming down with something."

"Or you're talking about me spitefully but in a loving way," Hawke grumbled with a smile.

Conversations began again and Fenris reached for the last bread roll at the same time Hawke did, their hands touched and they both recoiled in shock, horrified by the intrusive and sudden contact. He had not seen anyone but other slaves react to touch in such a way, whatever surprise had registered on her face faded within a blink of an eye and she went back to her conversation. But Fenris was left wondering why she despised being touched just as he did. He had never liked being touched, never wanted to be touched. He often watched people at Danarius' dinners touching, kissing, groping and laughing as they ate and drank in confusion. Touching others or being touched was always an uncomfortable experience for him and the last mage that had touched him had done so to abuse him, but Hawke's touch had been light, gentle and fleeting and the look on her face had mirrored his own. The question was: why, why did she recoil like that? What other secrets was she hiding?

He watched her curiously; she really was an enigma, one he found himself wanting to unravel. He frowned slightly, why did he care about this mage? He was here for coin, nothing else. But he couldn't help but notice how easily she spoke with her companions, how carefree she seemed, but she still remained distant, her chair was kept well away from the healer and she never touched him as they spoke despite the healer's animated hand movements.

Hawke turned to the dwarf with a grin on her face. "So do you have our supplies?" she asked

"Hawke! You wound me! When have I ever failed you?" Varric said with mock hurt.

"Never my handsome dwarf, never," she laughed, and everyone else joined in with her laugh as if was infectious.

"Well, we'll be making our way to the Dalish camp in about an hour, Fenris has kindly volunteered his services so Aveline, you are of course free to leave and get back to your duties whenever you like to. I would like to bring Anders and Varric, if you are up to it?" she said out loud for the group but turned her gaze to the other mage and the dwarf who both nodded.

Before she could say anymore her brother interrupted her, sounding somewhat annoyed. "I'm coming too, "he said, glaring at her for a moment.

"As you say," she merely replied, as if not wanting to argue with him or maybe she knew that even if she said no, her sibling would come with or without her permission.

There was a moment of silence in the room before Isabela spoke.

"So, Ser Perrin, ey?" she smirked at Hawke, obviously curious as to what had happened whilst she was at the bar.

"What about the guardsman?" Hawke replied.

"I hear he, ahem, delayed you from coming here?"

Fenris could tell that everyone in the room wanted to know what had gone on, it was Isabela who was cocky enough to question Hawke it seemed.

"Indeed. He asked me if I would like to go out for a drink sometime," she said, almost sighing at the thought.

"Well? "Isabela persisted.

"I told him that it was a lovely offer but I'm busy," she said gruffly, her eyebrow rising at Isabela's incredulous look.

"You're not always busy, Hawke!" she said, exasperated.

"Until my mother gets her home back, and my family are safe then and only then will I look after myself," Hawke's voice was becoming stern and Isabela obviously knew when to back down because after she had said that the Rivaini woman decided that her drink was worth her attention more.

He looked at Hawke as she played with her cup, everyone else was in animated conversation once more- but she seemed to be thinking hard about something. It was not like the young woman was short on offers yet she declined them all. She was an odd mage; she did not like to use her powers and she did not like to get close to many people it seemed.

They left sometime later after much more chatting and teasing than Fenris was used to, Danarius and his guests were always quite formal, even when they were being depraved and watching some poor slave be beaten to death as they ate their desert they were always courteous and well-mannered, but these new companions of his were unlike any he had ever experienced. It was both strange and enjoyable to listen to their conversations as they made their way to the Dalish camp. Fenris stayed back with the brother, Carver and Varric, not wanting to be near the mages. He did not trust them, they were vipers, capable of striking at any moment and they wielded unbelievable power, power that in the wrong hands was capable of great evil. He had seen such things over and over again in the Imperium, to find more mages here… he felt cursed and yet a small part of him was curious about Hawke, drawn to her almost, he wanted to know more, wanted to know her secrets, wanted to understand her. He had been trained to read people; he needed to know what his master wanted before his master did and that skill had served him well when on the run; he always knew when someone was about to betray him or if someone was lying to him. But Hawke was different. He could not read her, did not understand her and that made her more dangerous than most.

"I don't like the way he looks at her," Carver grumbled in a hushed tone to Varric

"Neither do I, Junior, but she's her own woman," Varric murmured, eyeing up the back of the male mage.

"I've seen him try to touch her and it makes me sick, he follows her around with obvious intent," Carver groused with obvious resentment for the mage in his voice.

"Well, I hope I'm there when he tries, there will be some fireworks. Shame as well, Blondie was telling me a few stories about his past travels, and I thought I exaggerated shit," the dwarf chortled, causing Hawke to glance over at him with a bemused expression.

Again he found himself wondering about Hawke's past, what had happened to her? What had she said to him the night before? Find out. How could he possibly 'find out' when she kept so many secrets? She was physically here and yet she hid just about everything about herself, she was more guarded than Fenris himself.

.

"You okay there, Broody?" the dwarf asked, staring at Fenris.

For a moment Fenris was confused as to who this Broody was, but the dwarf stared up at him expectantly and then he remembered that the dwarf had called the others by nicknames too. He frowned down at Varric.

.

"I do not brood, "Fenris said indignantly.

"Friend, if your brooding became any more impressive then women would swoon as you passed, and they would have broody babies in your honour," the dwarf quipped.

Fenris rolled his eyes. He had never met a funny dwarf before; then again he had not met a beardless dwarf either. Varric was against stereotypes it seemed.

"I thought all dwarves had beards?" Fenris asked, actually curious as to why this one did not.

"I left it, with my sense of dwarven pride and gold plated noble caste pin," the dwarf retorted, making the younger Hawke sibling chuckle.

"I thought maybe it fell onto your chest," Fenris countered, making Carver Hawke's chuckle become a fit of laughter and once again making Hawke turn around and look at the three men quizzically.

"Oho! The broody elf tells a joke," Varric grumbled and quickened his pace towards Hawke in annoyance as Carver still had not stopped laughing. Fenris was not used to speaking to anyone in such an informal way, if truth be told he thought he would not be able to hold such a conversation. He smiled as he watched the dwarf scuttle to Hawke to tell on him as if she were his mother and smiled. Maybe I am better at this than I thought.

They continued walking until evening, and Fenris found himself quite amused by the strange dwarf. He enjoyed the banter that he and the dwarf shared, and it was satisfactory to watch the dwarf counter his insults and for him to fire them right back on the dwarf. Fenris felt at ease with Varric, he could even describe it as fun, he thought to himself as he started setting up his tent with great difficulty. He looked over to see that the rest of the men of the group were still struggling with their tents and cursing the cloth as they kept attempting to tie the ropes together. However it seemed that Hawke did not need any help, and she had begun on the fire which she had started to do naturally without the aid of magic, this surprised Fenris even more he thought, as he watched her go get more firewood.

The dwarf seemed to have no issue with the tent either, maybe it was because he was about as big as the tent itself or maybe it was just because he was a dwarf. Dwarves were renowned for being good at making and fixing things. Maybe he was that kind of dwarf?

"Hey Varric, do you mind helping me out?" Carver asked, throwing the string and the wooden pole on the floor defiantly.

"Sure Junior, but it's gonna cost you something," the dwarf replied, his eyebrows waggling.

"What's it going to cost?" Carver asked cautiously as if he already suspected the dwarf's intentions.

"A little information, on your sister," the dwarf replied almost sweetly.

"What's wrong with your splendid spy network?" Carver asked, obviously debating with himself.

Varric ignored Carver's question and continued "So our fearless leader, what was she like as a teenager?"

"Complete opposite to what you see now, really. She was girly, liked wearing dresses and used to plait her hair and sing in the taverns for money… and that's all you're getting! Now help me with this blighted tent," Carver snapped, looking at the tent furiously as if he was trying to tap into the long line of magic that ran in his family and use it to make the tent assemble itself.

The mage had given up doing his own tent and walked over to the dwarf and the young warrior as if speaking about Hawke summoned him to come closer.

"She sings?" he asked Carver, who was holding a wooden pole whilst the dwarf started working on the tent.

"Yes." Carver stated bluntly and continued to help the dwarf erect his tent.

Fenris looked down at his own tent and began to try and work out how to do it, he kept stealing glances at the dwarf but could not copy his technique and his pride would not allow him to ask for help.

Hawke returned to the camp with a pile of firewood and started to make the fire, she turned around and noticed that the mage's tent was not assembled and began to help him whilst he showered her with thank you's.

After she had completed the mage's tent she continued working on the fire. Fenris felt bitter about it but he had never had the luxury of sleeping in a tent before and decided that he would know no difference if he slept on the floor like he had done for the past six months.

Once the fire was strong, Hawke peered over at the group. She cocked her head over at Fenris and his unmade tent, and got up and walked towards him. Fenris expected her to come up and mock him for being insufficient at making his own tent. He thought about how Danarius had watched him move his cargo on a ship once, and when he had dropped a box his former master had laughed cruelly to his fellow magisters and turned to Fenris with a vicious gleam in his eye "my little Fenris, he's that stupid he doesn't even know how to lift boxes. You will always be nothing but a killer won't you?"

The words still rung in his mind as if had just been said and his eyes narrowed as Hawke stood before him.

"Do you need help?" she asked, a smile on her face as she nodded at the tent.

Fenris wanted to spit insults at her, he wanted to tell her that he needed no help from a mage but instead he grunted at her and nodded and then turned her back to her.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hawke asked, and even though Fenris knew it wouldn't happen his stomach turned as if he was about to receive a beating.

"I am allowing you to do my tent as you asked," Fenris almost spat at her.

"No, that's not how it works. I will help you do it this time, and show you how to do it. If I don't show you then how will you learn to do it in the future?" she said, moving her fringe from one of her green eyes.

He grunted his acceptance again and she began to do his tent, showing him what to do. After she had done the first pole she offered him the second to do himself. He had watched her do it step by step and when he finished his tent he was almost proud of himself to the point where he nearly smiled. He looked at Hawke and she smiled at him for a second and then turned back to the fire to prepare the food.

He watched her as she stirred the pot on the fire, she seemed at home by the fire humming to herself, he tried to imagine this strange mage as her brother had described before and failed. He could not picture this mage with white hair tied in a bun and a patchwork dress singing along the coast. It just did not fit this woman that he saw now, white hair tied up and green eyes looking at the pot and then out into the shadows as if looking for threats and her translucent skin as if she did not eat properly.

After food was made and eaten, they sat down and warmed themselves by the fire. Fenris sat the on far end, closer to the dwarf rather than the mage and Hawke. As the fire began to dim the dwarf grumbled and shouted over to the mage who was sat watching Hawke talk to her brother naturally and closer than she ever sat with anyone else.

"Oi, Blondie! Do some of your hocus pocus shit and make the fire warm again!" Varric shouted over to the mage who scowled at his nickname.

"Or you could get off your ass and maybe throw some wood on the fire instead of me doing my hocus pocus shit or ask Hawke if she'll do it," the mage said, making Hawke break out of her conversation with Carver and death glaring the mage and Varric.

"I lack hocus pocus," she snapped at the both of them before the dwarf could even ask.

"Hawke, try as you might but you are a mage! I don't understand why you would hide such power," the mage asked, almost pleading for Hawke to demonstrate some magic to him.

She started to look annoyed but not angered by the other mage's outburst, she rolled her eyes which made both her brother and the dwarf smirk and replied "My powers are gone, I have none. Can you not just accept that I am who I want to be instead of denying me such freedom?" leaving the mage to think about her words.

Hawke, it seemed was a wise woman. Her words rang true in Fenris' mind. He was born a slave but he wanted to be a free man and yet there was people like that idiotic mage that would deny him such a freedom. As he looked at Hawke for a moment and realised that even though she was a mage she did not choose to be and she denied her birth right as much as she could. Yet, the memory of her power in the mansion swam back into his mind and he became curious.

"And what of the magic you performed last night?" he asked her, his words causing the other mage to almost jump for joy at the fact she had used magic.

"I do not deny that it is a part of me, but I do not use it to my every whim, magic is something to fear as well as something to wonder. You and my brother were in peril, I would do it again without regret," she replied to him, looking at him with sombre green eyes.

She seemed exhausted as if she had not slept for days, she did not flash anyone coy grins or laugh like she had the other night when he asked her for her aid. Fenris wondered how much the ice that she had summoned had to do with it.

I do not deny that it is a part of me but I do not use it to my every whim.

He pondered on her words whilst the mage and Hawke argued about her heritage and her birth right for what seemed like hours, eventually the mage must have tired because when he looked up from the nearly exhausted fire he saw that there was only Hawke and himself still awake.

"You've been staring at that fire for a long time I wondered for a moment if you were trying to pool all your mental energy together to relight it," she chuckled, piling the bowls together and putting them neatly next to the pot that was now empty of any food. Fenris' stomach growled, the food was good and he could have eaten everyone's.

"I-uh, was just thinking," he said, looking at her dart about almost humming as she cleaned the campsite. Now he could see her as some farmer's wife, singing in the taverns with a lute and cleaning the house and tending to the needs of her horde of children and her husband. He almost laughed, something Fenris had not done for most of his life. She sat down on the ground next to him, leaving a gap between them also.

"Your former master is going to a great length to seek you out," she said, looking at him intensely, it felt as if she was almost trying to read his mind.

"Yes, he is," Fenris stated, he did not really want to answer her questions.

"Is it something to do with those markings?" she asked.

"Yes, from what you saw from last night you know they are not just tattoos. They are lyrium branded into my flesh, and my very soul it seems," he replied.

He remembered a dark room, with just a tiny square window allowing light in. The artisans of Tevinter sliced into his skin and seasoned him with lyrium dust which was agonisingly painful, then as the dust burnt into his flesh they poured lyrium into the wounds and it felt as if his bones had turned to ash. He remembered clumps of his own hair falling out onto the floor and when they had finally finished he lay on the concrete floor and writhed in pain for what seemed to be days.

"That's awful."

Spare me your pity," he spat at her.

"I didn't say I pitied you, I said that what happened to you was awful," she countered calmly.

He observed this woman for a moment, considering her words.

"I remember nothing of my life before, the ritual that gave me these markings wiped away my memories. One of my earliest memories is of my master leering over me, stroking my markings. I have only ever known slavery; it is why I hate mages. For the good mages are capable of the terrible things they can do so easily outweighs them. It is so easily for a cornered mage to turn to a demon, to blood magic, to become an abomination. I have seen magisters do deplorable things for fun."

"You said can do, not all mages are like those magisters. And don't you think I know what can happen better than most? But I know it won't," she replied haughtily like she had done with the the other mage when questioned about her magic.

"Denying your magic won't stop the demons from coming for you and you still use your magic when necessary, what if it becomes necessary to ask a demon for help?"

"Using my magic to save my brother and you is not the same as asking a demon for help. I do not use my magic often, hence why I collapsed."

He let the silence between them linger before speaking again, "You are a very strange mage."

"I get that a lot."

They sat in silence for a while longer; he turned to Hawke and saw her watching the embers of the fire obviously lost in thought at the memory of something. Fenris tried to bring himself to despise this mage but he could not. He saw that she meant him no harm, no matter what argument he put in front of himself. It didn't mean he had to trust her however.

"I would go to sleep, Fenris, me and Varric are keeping watch then we will change over and you will watch with Carver," she said after what seemed like decade.

"What of the other mage? Why does he not keep watch?" Fenris asked, he almost hissed it at her.

"Anders is our healer; we need him awake and alert if something was to happen." She stood up and then lingered for a moment giving him one last stare "You should go to sleep," she said.

"Indeed, "he replied curtly bowing his head and walked towards his tent.

He lay on the bed roll for a while, trying to get to sleep. He heard Hawke starting to hum and listened to that for a moment before his eyes would not stay open a moment longer.

In what felt like minutes he heard a grunt coming from one of the tents close by, and then just before he could get up off of his back, Varric popped his head into the tent a big grin on his face. Fenris raised an eyebrow at the odd dwarf who at the moment looked like he had no body to belong to.

"Get up Broody, I need my beauty sleep!" Varric said, grinning widely.

Fenris stretched his arms, still eyeing the dwarf and remarked, "You will be sleeping for long time, dwarf, before that face is beautiful."

Varric rolled his eyes and removed his head from Fenris' tent, obviously too tired to come up with a witty retort. Fenris listened to the dwarf crawl into his own tent and a few moments later he was snoring loudly. Fenris exited his tent and shivered slightly as he adjusted to the cool night air. Hawke was lying by the dying dire, snoring quietly. He frowned slightly; she would catch a cold staying out here like that. He approached her but someone grabbed his shoulder; he turned and grabbed them.

"Don't touch my sister," Carver whispered harshly and Fenris released his grip on him.

"She is on the floor."

Carver shrugged. "At least she is sleeping though."

Fenris nodded in reply and took a seat by a tree as Carve sat on the opposite side of their camp. It was a quiet night but Carver's eyes darted around, always listening, always alert, he was so protective of her, not that it really seemed like she needed the protection.

He watched the sun rise; its yellow light bathed the camp with warmth, a stray ray of light landed on Hawke's white hair and made it shimmer in the gentle breeze. It reminded him of his first dawn as a free man, although at the time he was simply stranded, left behind by his master. He had watched the ocean's glistening waters until Danarius' ship disappeared on the horizon. This daw could not have been more different, it brought a new day, a new day with a new mage, one who was still a total puzzle to him.