Chapter 15
So, I had to split this because it was so long, but I decided since I hadn't updated you guys deserved these two chapters!
Thank you, to my beta she is so great! Honestly, Enchantm3nt! I love you, I do.
Thank you for your reviews/follows/favourites!
x
She dived into the shadows on the way to the Lowtown foundry, opting for stealth and speed rather than an open attack. As they got closer she made a bird noise out to Varric: their signal that she was going to scout first and she would signal again.
The warehouse was silent. It seemed that most of the cargo had been moved and the only remaining things to be shipped were a few crates, there was no sign of any slaves or Feynriel. She signalled for the others to come forward, but before she could wait for them she heard struggling and voices coming from a room at the back.
"Get a hold of her!" a man's voice shouted as she heard the quick footsteps of someone trying to flee.
Hawke burst through the door not thinking of her own welfare and found a woman wearing circle robes being cornered by two men with swords; they jeered at her as she backed up into the corner. She screamed again, but they didn't listen as they manhandled her. Hawke looked at the woman and froze for second, remembering things from years past.
"Please, help me… anyone," the mage moaned as they grabbed her.
"Get the hands! I've heard they can't do no fucking magic without their hands being free," one of them shouted to his partner, as he grabbed the rope to tie her hands.
"NO!" Hawke screamed, but it was too late.
The mage started to shake violently, she knew she the woman was battling the temptation of a demon, but the vibrating indicated the demon was winning. The shaking became more erratic and the woman burst into flames, the abomination taking over her entire being, making her flesh mangled and her face deformed.
The abomination flew into the air, hitting one of the men into the wall and killing him instantly.
"You know nothing of magic!" the abomination roared to the other man, who had yelped and scarpered as fast he could. Hawke couldn't blame him; this girl had sacrificed herself to be rid of these men.
She heard running behind her and Varric's familiar voice broke her out of her frozen horror at the abomination.
"Hawke, you don't have to run off you're not- holy shit!" Varric said behind her, obviously only just noticing the abomination.
Hawke felt truly sorry for the young woman, many years ago that could have been her. It was at least some comfort that she could send the girl to the Maker's side with some mercy rather than that of the Templars.
She grabbed her blades and readied herself for the fight. She dived for the abomination, aiming for its chest but it seemed to already know her plan, it began to lift her up into the air but before it could even throw her she saw the familiar flare of blue phasing near it causing it to be distracted by Fenris in full glow. It dropped her to the floor.
She sliced at its feet, trying to bring it down but it seemed it would not go without a fight. She dived in between Carver and Fenris who were slashing it in unison, slicing where she could. It began to weaken, and she decided to take her opportunity in giving the woman that it was once before some mercy.
But she was too late; Fenris snarled in the night and lunged his sword right in the heart. Its scream was high pitched, and its body fell to the ground with a thud. He looked at her almost victoriously as if he had purposefully stolen the kill for his own.
She rolled her eyes at the elf, and knelt down to look to see if there was anything left of the woman before, in the pocket of the ripped dress she found a letter signed to Ser Thrask.
Father,
I know the sacrifices you've made to conceal my secret, but I am a child no longer. I cannot burden you my whole life, lest my secret destroy us both. I must live my own life as a woman... and as a mage. It is oddly freeing to write the word.
Farewell, Father. I hope one day you make peace between what you have been taught and what you have seen.
All my love,
Olivia
Hawke could not believe that the mage before her was a Templar's daughter. It seemed so against nature, the laws stated that no children could be made from the Circle, and if any did occur they would not stay with their parents. A thousand questions popped into her head for Ser Thrask, especially the irony and hypocrisy of today's event.
She turned to face the group who were waiting for her to say something expectedly, and for once she seemed lost for words, she passed the letter to Varric who read it aloud for the group. She could feel the heat of eyes piercing her and found that they belonged to Fenris. He stared at her intensely, and although she stared back she could sense the other man that had manhandled the mage hiding behind one of the crates, waiting to move.
She felt it again whilst she stared at him, some form of moth or butterfly in her stomach. He seemed to be looking at her deeply, as if trying to read her thoughts.
The man behind the crate tried to make a run for it, but she already knew what he was going to do. She took the throwing knife that she kept on her belt and aimed it at the man's head before turning back round to the group nonchalantly, as if they were playing a harmless game of crochet. The chink of metal and thud confirming that it had made its mark.
She walked towards the chest that was stood on one of the crates and found it to be unlocked. There were a few pieces of gold, and some odd trinkets but she was more concerned about the paper in there. It was as she suspected, the captains accounts; a loose term for accounts since it was more of an inventory of every elf, mage and other person that he had rounded up to be sold into a life of slavery, plus a few trade items that were surprisingly legal.
She groaned seeing that Feynriel had been taken to Darktown, this seemed like some fucked up scavenger hunt.
"Well, I know where he is, at least," she groaned, passing the letter to Varric.
"Sister, why can't we have easy jobs?" Carver asked groaning at the inventory that told them Feynriel was with a slaver in Darktown.
"You saw what happened when we took an easy job," she said, nodding her head to Fenris who scowled at her.
"I shall endeavour to exist with less offense, Hawke," Fenris scowled.
"Why thank you so much, Fenris, although no one is complaining about you being here," Hawke said indifferently.
"Yep, especially you," Varric muttered, making Carver flash a small smile at the witty dwarf's words.
"Pardon, Varric?" she asked, her eyes narrowing at the dwarf who smiled at her sweetly. She did not trust that smile any more than she trusted her own.
She rolled her eyes at the dwarf's innuendos. She hadn't stared at the elf that much, and if she had it was for the blazing hatred he allowed to exhale all over her with his mere presence. He watched her just as much, most likely checking if she was still human.
"Are we going now?" Carver asked, yawning despite himself.
"Yes," Hawke said, as if they were asking stupid questions.
"Hawke, we all need sleep. We don't just hang about on rooftops at night like you do, waiting for the sun to break; the dark heroine who lives amongst the shadows," Varric said, embellishing the statement far too much. It was one of the many things she enjoyed about the dwarf however.
"Indeed, well go ahead and go to sleep," she retorted in annoyance. She needed to find the boy before something happened to him; with or without her entourage.
"Hawke, that means you as well," Varric sighed, rubbing his eyes from fatigue.
"I think not, I won't stop until I find him," she said, looking down at the exhausted dwarf with an air of stubbornness.
"If you go out there alone, you will surely fall prey to these slavers yourself," Fenris said ominously, adding to the conversation.
Hawke's eyebrow raised up at the sound of Varric and Fenris agreeing with each other. It almost felt she was being ganged up and forced to go to sleep. Surely, the escaped slave could see that they had to stop the hunters now rather than later?
"I think I'd look rather fetching with chains on," she said, a coy grin on her face making Fenris scowl at her.
Of course Aria, when cornered laugh it off…
"That is not something you wish to say lightly, you know nothing of slavery," Fenris growled, his normal mask of indifference cracking quickly. It seemed that the former slave was driven by nothing but his temper.
"You know nothing of me; therefore my knowledge of slavery is also unknown to you. This isn't the point, the point is that either you can help me or I'll ask Merrill and Anders, make a choice," she said, just wanting to get the boy safe and sound. She had already seen one mage succumb to the pleas of a demon and didn't want the same to happen to the young elf.
"Oh yes, let's send the abomination and the blood mage, I'm sure they are exactly the role models that the apostate boy needs," fenris argued back, leaving Varric to sigh and watch where the debate was going.
Her eyes narrowed at Fenris at the words abomination and blood mage, for a moment she considered maybe slapping him. She was frustrated, she felt like she had accomplished nothing today but watching another mage become a demon.
"Oh and what am I then, Fenris?" she spat at him, waiting for his response. It felt good to argue with someone.
He narrowed his gaze at her, his eyes becoming slits as he obviously thought of something to argue back to her. Before he could say anything, Varric cut into the conversation.
"Hawke, I say we sleep on it, then we go talk to him. He's not going to tell us where he's hiding all the slaves he's been gathering if we sneak up on him whilst he's in his nightie snoring like a high dragon," Varric said, with Carver nodding in agreement.
"Fine, but only if I get to sleep with you, my dear dwarf," she said, trying to lighten up. She knew what she was going to do, regardless of what they wanted her to do. Her will bent to no man, or anyone for that matter. Possibly her mother on a bad day, but it had to be a very bad day.
"As much as I would love that my beautiful bird of prey, I think Bianca would get jealous," Varric said, throwing her a wink.
"Fine, I'll go to sleep. You win," she said, luring them into their fake victory. She would go home, wait until her brother started his drooling that signalled that he was fast asleep and take to scaling the rooftops and get to Darktown, maybe calling on Merril and Anders on her way.
"I don't normally say this crap, but thank the ancestors!" Varric triumphed, walking towards the door…
She waited in her bed for at least an hour, knowing her brother's tell-tale signs like the back of her hands. As soon as he fell into a deep sleep she quickly changed into her armour, choosing the new black leather set she had purchased. It was a coal black and would enhance her ability to hide within the shadows. She quickly tied her hair in a bun and tip-toed towards the door and walked into the fresh air that was Lowtown.
It was twilight, not quite night time but not quite day. She grabbed at the loose bricks of Gamlen's hovel and began to climb to the roof tops, her pace quickening at the thought of waking her brother (or even worse Gamlen) up with her climbing.
She ran quickly around the rooftops, avoiding the chimneys that were dotted around the roofs with great ease. In the year that she had been here it had become common for her to scale the rooftops of Kirkwall, and in an odd sort of way the rooftops felt like home, more so than her uncle's home. Whilst running freely along the rooftops, dodging the parts that were beyond repair she felt like she was running through a field in the farm hold, but somewhat more concrete and smoky.
She got to the last house and flipped with great ease, enjoying the thrill of the motion. Carver always thought she did it just to show off to people, but she truly did it because the feeling of having her blood rush to her in an adrenaline rush just reminded her of being a child again. The swift arch of her body and the way her body and mind were connected so primarily, were also benefactors for her love of flipping and diving all over the place. In fact, if she got the money for the expedition, one of the Amell estate rooms would be converted into her own training ground. Where she could flip and twist and no one would think she was a mere show girl to entertain them with her flexible flesh.
She landed on the cobbled pavement, near the stairs leading to Darktown, but before she could gather her bearings, a hand grabbed her arm; instinctively she snarled. She looked up and the first thing she noticed was his white hair. He was looking at her with a deep scowl, almost like the one her father used to give her when she would accidently set Carver's trousers on fire.
"Hawke," he merely stated, looking down at her annoyed.
"Fenris, I thought you were living up in your Hightown mansion? You shouldn't be out on your own at this time," she joked, removing his arm as if was something distasteful she had trodden on in the street. He was very close to her and she didn't like it one bit, yet a familiar burn flared in her stomach. She jolted back, leaving a gap between them.
"That is not your concern, I was merely strolling the streets unlike you with your obvious intent. The dwarf said that it was the first time you had complied with anything they suggested, I found this anomaly to be somewhat suspicious," he said, a smug grin on his face as he had caught her out.
"Oh! And you thought you'd come to my rescue to make sure I didn't go see the big bad slaver all on my own? Thank you for your kindness, it has touched my heart. Now move the fuck away it's none of your business," she retorted, if this elf intended to stay amongst their gang of misfits he would surely learn that when Hawke had something on her mind, she would go do whatever it was. She would call it ambition, Carver and her mother both called it stubbornness.
He cocked an eyebrow at her sarcasm, but did not let any other emotion escape his face.
"I am merely trying to get you to realise how strategically insufficient your goal of running into a slaver den alone is, and I didn't intend to run into you, I was walking back from speaking with the dwarf and I heard something on the roof," he insisted, but it made her even more suspicious.
"Lovely, thank you for your concern, good night," Hawke said, walking past him. She heard him curse quietly in Tevinter, and then he seemed to take it upon himself to follow her. Whilst she walked down the stairs he was silent for a while.
"You are stubborn, Hawke," he stated, as they walked towards Anders' clinic.
"And you are being extremely rude," Hawke snapped back.
"Why is it so urgent that you do this now? Varric was right, we need our rest to go against these slavers," he said.
"Fenris, what would you do if they were going to capture you?" Hawke asked him, knowing full well what the white haired elf would in fact do, he would shine blue and tear out the hearts of everyone in the vicinity, she didn't know him well but she knew it to be true.
"If I was as exhausted as you are, I would find somewhere to rest at least for a few hours, then I would come up with a plan," Fenris replied, keeping up with her quickened pace.
That shocked her, the man obviously oozed hate and walked around in spikes that screamed to anyone who dared look at them STAY AWAY she did not think that he would be so strategic, then again this man had freed himself from his master and had been on the run for a while now, without being caught.
"I am not exhausted, and I will not sleep until the boy and the others are safe. You don't know me very well Fenris, and normally I'd be perfectly charming to a new person in town, but stop stalking me with the aim of talking me down. I'm doing this," she said bluntly. It was true, with or without her friends she would go to find the apostate boy and the others that this slaver had taken. Fenris did not know her, but surely Varric should have known by now? She would not sleep until they were safe; it was a personal vendetta that she kept close to her heart. In her heart she knew that everyone should be free, even the Circle should have its own sense of freedom, but with discipline. What could she say? She was an idealist.
He seemed to just follow her in silence then, he could tell she was exhausted? He was the first person to notice when the fatigue kicked in apart from Carver. Most people never seemed to notice how exhausted she was, and yet this elf had noticed within knowing her no more than a week or so? He was extremely perceptive it seemed, she didn't like that one bit. To be under the spot light of someone's gaze that could see her friendly mask, it truly scared her…
When they got to the clinic, they found Anders… And Varric.
He was sat on one of the cot beds, his short dwarven legs not reaching the ground; he was swinging them almost like a child as he hummed to himself. He turned round and met Hawke's gaze with a wicked grin, almost jumping off the bed as he walked towards her with the same all-knowing and smug grin.
"Well, Daisy, is this a makeover or make under? You seem somewhat uglier than I remember," Varric cajoled, winking at Fenris.
"Silence, Dwarf, I apprehended her before she made it to the alienage it seemed. I was intending on going home and not following with your plan, especially the part where we have to meet at the abomination's clinic," Fenris growled, making Varric's smile widened.
"It's okay, Broody, you know I love you too! So how did you apprehend our dear Hawke here?" he asked, looking at Hawke as she rolled her eyes. Of course Varric knew; he had been working with her for a while now, she should have seen the sincerity when he bade her goodnight and said he was glad she finally listened to him. Fucking rogues…
"I could hear her on the roof," Fenris stated, ignoring Varric's jests.
"Hawke, you wound me! You're getting careless if even the elf could hear you whilst in a fit of broody rage!" Varric said, eyeing her up as if she was some relic he was going to sell.
"Or maybe he was hunting me down to rid the world of another mage, then he saw me going to Anders' clinic and thought two birds one stone!" Hawke said, joining the conversation.
She couldn't see Ander's but she heard a loud snort come from the back of the clinic, meaning that he was listening to the conversation. Fenris noted the snort and rolled his eyes, his lips mashed together as if he was holding back the insults. She could feel them almost frothing at his mouth.
"If he did that, Bianca and I may have to do something about him," Varric joked, winking at her wit.
"You and I seem to have an accord, my dear dwarf," Hawke said, looking down smiling at the dwarf that she was so comfortable with it seemed like they had always been friends.
"You're not bad for a human, Hawke" he laughed, winking at her.
It was nice that there was someone in this city apart from her brother that seemed to know her better than most. Varric seemed trustworthy to her and worthy of her time and honour, he seemed to know her and her moods already. She enjoyed his company; it was easy to joke and be free with him there. He distracted her from her thoughts and doubts; he helped strengthen her mask when she could feel it almost cracking.
Anders made an appearance then, he was smiling at her so casually it irked her a bit. It was as if she had asked him to go for a picnic with her and make castles of sand on the beach rather than storm into his clinic in the early hours of the morning. He seemed relaxed, as if there wasn't any spirit of justice in his head whispering of the injustices that mages had to suffer. She wrinkled her nose as the thought; you're the perfect poster girl for his cause, Hawke.
Anders grinned at the sight of her wrinkling her nose, "does my clinic smell too Darktown to you, Hawke?" he asked, a playful grin on his face.
"Does an apple smell too fruity to you, my dear mage?" she asked rhetorically, a coy grin on her face.
Anders reminded her of her father a little. It was the smell of lyrium and elfroot and whatever other manly smell mingled with it, it was comforting to say the least. Despite, this spirit that plagued the back of her mind whenever she spoke to him, she still found herself at ease with him. He was indeed a caring man, he must have been to do such a thing as open a clinic for the poor and the refugees with little coin asked.
"It depends, is it rotten or ripe?" Anders replied back, smirking at his own wit.
"It depends on nothing, whether it is a ripe apple or a rotten one, it will still smell like a fruit, regardless of what end of its life span it's at," she replied back, enjoying the mage's wit.
"Ah, but what if it's a toffee apple?" Anders asked her, winking at her.
"Then if you take the toffee off, you will find that is indeed still an apple, just masked," she said, chuckling at the random debate about an apple that had transpired.
"You're intelligent, sweetheart, I'll give you that," Anders laughed.
"Thank you, I'm here for the foreseeable future depending on if we actually make it back from the Deep Roads and I don't contract the taint and spend my days feasting on darkspawn and mumbling in a corner," she said, going into a mock curtsey.
"Yes, well when you lovebirds are done," Varric drawled, obviously bored by Hawke and Anders argument on fruit, "You were in a bad mood, remember? Wanted to go slit some slaver's throats?"
"I've not forgot, I'm just getting to that part!" Hawke exclaimed, making the dwarf grin wickedly at her.
"Well, I'm up now and at your service, my lady," Anders said, going into a mock bow which made Fenris snort.
Anders eyed the elf for a moment, obviously wanting to say something but thinking otherwise.
"Lead the way Hawke,"
The slavers were based in one of dankest corners of Darktown, it was obvious to Hawke that they had set up in one of the worst spots in Kirkwall to look for potential slaves. People lived in poverty here, even to the point where maybe slavery wasn't so bad to them, making them easy prey to the slavers that dwelled there with them.
The slavers were already awake and dealing with crates in a hurried manner. Hawke suspected that the antics of last night's foundry incident had something to do with it. Maybe they knew she was coming, she didn't really care.
She walked down the stairs nonchalantly her eyes pointed at the man who was ordering the others around, obviously their leader. He wore mage robes, and a strange looking hat which looked foreign, giving off the impression he was definitely from these parts. As she walked up to him she heard Fenris growl in an animalistic manner; she prayed he would keep calm until they had spoken to the slaver.
The slaver looked at her up and down with greed, he licked his lips at the sight of her walking towards him, and when she stopped he laughed to the other men around the den.
"Well look here lads, volunteers! Clap 'em in irons, and let's see how much the Tevinters will pay for them," he laughed, his eyes looking at her breasts rather than her face. She wanted to vomit all over the floor at just the voice of the perverse man. She turned to Fenris, whose normal mask of indifference and stoic manner had vanished just at the mention of the land where his former master hailed from; he was ready to kill.
"Well, that is no way to talk to a lady," Hawke tittered, and looked at Fenris. " I feel you'd have great satisfaction in making him talk," she said,, he replied with a savage grin.
"I can do that," Fenris muttered before walking over to the slaver, his brands lighting up enthusiastically.
He plunged his radiating hand into the slaver, a cruel smug of satisfaction whilst the slaver squirmed with whatever Fenris was doing to his internal organs. He let go of the man who fell to the ground immediately, his hand grasping his chest where Fenris had grabbed and his face in total shock.
"Andraste's great flaming arse, how did you do that?" the man asked, whimpering almost in pain.
"Now, now, you know a magician should never show his tricks! My friend is being made to be a slave and he can't really do that since he promised me he would join me for tea," Hawke chuckled, it gave her great pleasure that the man was now like a worm rather than a cocky viper that had spat his venom as soon as he'd clapped eyes on her, maybe she should buy the elf a drink as a thank you.
"I stashed him in a cave on the edge of the wounded coast, Tevinters will be by to finish the deal today, now please, Maker I beg you, let me go!" the man pleaded, standing himself up.
"Sure… wait, I mean no," Hawke said sweetly, readying her attack.
She unsheathed her daggers and went straight in for the kill; these were the kind of people she had no afterthoughts or guilt about. These were the people that stole others as if they were merely furniture without any severe consequence, as if their families would just buy another and replace them. She would slice their innards out without a moment's thought.
Fenris charged into the fray, trying to distract them by being nothing more than a blue blur., as Hawke threw a smoke bomb she distinctively heard Varric and Bianca playing their renowned song, shooting bolt after of bolt. Anders was behind her, concentrating seriously on keeping her alive. It seemed the mage felt bad for the flesh wound she acquired up Sundermount the other day, he was focussing most of his magic either on her or around her.
She stared at Fenris for a moment who was scything his enemies and bringing them down as if they were nothing more than plants. He flashed her a feral smile and they began to dance together, daggers and greatsword becoming deadly partners. She flipped over him and let her instincts take over, when he swiped his sword at the slavers she would duck and slice their legs, he grabbed the last one with a blue fist and with a loud crack he threw out the man's heart, not even thinking about it. The elf was wild; literally everything she heard and saw from Fenris seemed wild. He was more beast than man, and she admitted to herself whilst they fought that it scared her.
When the last one fell, Fenris seemed to reign in his fierceness, and looked at her with an almost impassive expression. It was as if he controlled himself in every aspect of his life apart from when he fought. When he took his sword in his hands and charged into the enemy with not a seconds thought that was when he let go, he was truly wild. And yet there seemed to be two sides to Fenris, the beast and the perfectly reserved man. Hawke wondered how long it would take the beast to take control, unless the man balanced them both out.
"Better get our arses wherever the kid is before they realise what's happened, Hawke," Varric said in thought as he viewed the corpses amongst them as if they were flowers.
"Indeed, we do my dear dwarf then I promise you I will let you sleep, maybe I could polish Bianca for you," she said, winking at the dwarf.
"No, Hawke, no matter how many times you ask," Varric said, an eyebrow raised.
"Oh but until you say yes, I'm not going to stop," Hawke chuckled, accepting the red vial from Anders as she looked down on her dearest friend.
"Hawke, have you ever thought you might be annoying me and hurting my feelings, I don't like people trying to touch Bianca," Varric said, unblinkingly and with a serious expression on his face.
Hawke paused for a moment, worried she might have actually hurt the dwarf's feelings. Varric looked up at her with a wicked grin and his eyebrows waggling.
"Just shitting you, Hawke," he said.
Hawke stomped her foot and cursed whilst she trudged up the dirty stairs…
The slaver caverns were a labyrinth full of ditches, traps and slavers. After battling their way through for a good part of an hour, Hawke could feel her exhaustion in her bones. Hell, she could feel it in every part of her body, she thought to herself as she walked through the green vines of plants that littered the place.
"You are tired, just as I predicted," Fenris' voice came from behind her and he walked with her at her pace.
"Have you not heard, I'm best when I get an adrenaline rush," Hawke replied, her eyes lingering on Fenris for a moment before following the narrow path ahead as they walked.
"You are very strange for what you are, Hawke," Fenris stated, it was almost as if he wanted her reasons and validation for why she was so strange.
"Well, that's my aim! Surprise everyone!" she exclaimed quieter than she normally would, not daring to be her dramatic sarcastic self when they were in the arms of the enemy.
Fenris said nothing to her dramatic exclamation, but merely looked at her with deep jade eyes, as if scrutinizing her. She felt that when this elf looked at her, he was casually dipping his hand into her soul, as if trying to grasp something.
Before she could comment about his constant scrutiny, they had found the central hub of the slavers. Amongst the army of slave traders were cages full of men and woman and the odd few children. Hawke felt the pang in her stomach as her and the group viewed them from the shadows. She saw Feynriel was being kept near the makeshift desk where the leader was stood, poring over some documents.
She knew that if they attacked straight on, the boy and the rest of the slaves would surely die. She weighed her options for a moment and then followed her gut instinct, whispering to Varric, "Time to use that sweet mouth of yours," as she beckoned the group to follow her out of the shadows.
The slavers turned around and eyed her immediately, drawing out their weapons in suspicion. She left her daggers sheathed and used her smile as her assault. The leader peered at her from the upper level, pointing a dagger to Feynriel's throat without any hesitation.
"Take one more step, and the boy dies," the ring leader sneered, his dagger become closer to Feynriel's throat as if to empathise his threat.
Hawke feigned a high and mighty demeanour, whilst turning to Varric who copied her expression.
"Tell this dirt bag who we are," she said, jerking her head towards the slaver in a pompous attitude. She swore she saw the dwarf lick his lips as though hungry to concoct a story, but if she did it was soon gone.
"Do you know who you're dealing with? If I were you, I wouldn't be making death threats to the Viscount's son." the dwarf lied, pointing his head towards the now shaking boy.
"What?" was all the slaver could muster, it seemed he believed Varric instantly, and a worried expression paled his face.
"Oh, I bet you just got a tip from your slaver buddy that he was selling mage flesh cheap, didn't bother to ask where it came from, did you?" Varric continued, and the more he seemed to speak the more the slaver became to believe his lies.
"You never wondered whether you were buying the Viscount's love child, born from his elven mistress? The boy he swore to protect even if it means raising the entire Free Marches!" Varric said, completely getting into story. Maker, did she appreciate this lying dwarf right now!
The leader was either an idiot, or Varric was an exceptional liar. Either way, Hawke didn't really care as long as they could get the boy out of this mess alive. The slaver looked at the boy for a moment, truly worried and peered over to them.
"I want no war with free marches, take the lad to his father," he said, dropping the dagger and letting Feynriel move away from his grasp.
"Thank you kind sir," Hawke said, curtseying. She turned to look at Fenris whose nostrils were flared so high that his nose was in the shape of the letter V. He obviously thought that they were going to leave this place and favour their own lives instead of the people trapped in the taverns waiting to be sold. She couldn't be bothered trying to explain to the elf through code, so she pretended to bend down to arrange her boots, and quickly grasped the throwing knife she always kept so dear to her, and the smoke bomb she had strapped to her thigh belt just in case the Templars ever tried to come and get her. She threw the steel knife straight into the back of the leader, who slumped down immediately after letting out a loud scream. Before the other slavers had time to react she launched the smoke bomb, being invisible was an advantage that Hawke had to use well.
As she darted in and out of the smoke, slicing slaver after slaver she could see Fenris amongst them, his skin blazing blue. Did the elf not realise that because they were so outnumbered they had to use some sort of stealth rather than running in literally blazing? The slavers were gathering around him like he was a beacon. Hawke ran towards them, taking as many as she could with her daggers twirling, trying to defend her comrade before he became another corpse on the ground. Fenris was like a wolf backed into a corner, howling and snapping the bones of any of the slavers that were brave enough to try and confront him.
Anders was in the background, she could hear the mumbling of incantations and see the blue light emanating from his staff, and she had to hazard a guess that Varric was nearby, since she could hear him barking out insults and chortling as if it were a game.
She chased the legs of the slavers stabbing them in the mask of the smoke; Hawke did not think she was good at many things, quite frankly she knew she was terrible at most. But there was a great sense of fulfilment in killing those who would wrong so many innocents.
When the smoke faded, she found her companions unharmed and standing amongst corpses once again; Varric had taken to looting them already, smoke obviously not deterring him from the task of finding something valuable. Anders strode towards her, concern in his face as he hopped over the dead bodies.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes swirling with concern and care.
"In all honesty, I'm exhausted. But at least it's over with now," Hawke said, running her hands through her soaked fringe, the sweat making it stick to her forehead.
"You work too hard," he said in a tender tone, touching her arm as an act of compassion. She looked into the healer's eyes and saw so many different emotions swirling in there it almost made her feel dizzy.
She shrugged his arm off, smiling at him. "So do you,"
The boy, Feynriel ran over to them when the smoke had completely cleared from where he was hiding.
"He had… had… a dagger to my throat! I mean thank you so much, but what would have happened if you were wrong?" the half elven boy said in a panic stricken tone.
"I'm barely ever wrong, am I Varric?" Hawke laughed, looking at Varric who replied with a wink.
"No, not most of the times, it's usually a Tuesday when you are, though," Varric joked back, at ease with the whole situation.
"It is Tuesday," Hawke chuckled, shaking her head at the banter her and the dwarf shared routinely.
The boy watched them in utter shock, he seemed confused as to why his saviours were so easily relaxed around a mountain of corpses, but nonetheless he seemed well despite the fact he had nearly become a slave.
"Who are you? Are you working for the Templars?" he asked, looking at them bitterly.
"Your mother sent me," Hawke replied, this time her voice sincere and not joking in anyway.
"Wow, that's hardly a difference," the boy snorted, looking at Hawke, "I can't believe my whole life it's been nothing but: I love you, you're my only family and then as soon as I have a few nightmares, she screams for the Templars!"
"I am here to help you, Feynriel," Hawke said, offering her aid before she had even thought about what the boy could ask of her.
"Why? You don't even know me!" the boy spat at her, obviously suspicious and angry with the card that life had dealt him.
"I have my own gifts, Feynriel," she said, looking at him with obvious eyes. The boy worked it out within two seconds, and obviously deemed that a good enough reason for he changed the subject after that.
"If I were a true elf, I'd be trained by the Dalish to be there new keeper by now, but no I'm going to get carted off to the Circle like I'm a bad secret,"
"Is that where you were intending to go, before you were captured?"
"I didn't care where I went, as long as it was far away from the blighted Templars," the boy groaned.
"I think we can understand that, Hawke," Anders pleaded, Hawke already knew the healer wanted to her let him run away from this dreadful city and for a moment she thought she would comply with his pleading tone, but then she remembered the nightmares and what they meant, it was obvious to any mage and most people, that a mage plagued by nightmares is being taunted by a demon in the Fade, trying to turn the pure mage black.
Varric and Fenris put no input into the conversation, she knew the dwarf wouldn't, whenever Anders had asked him about his view on the Templar vs Mage debate, the dwarf had merely laughed and said that it was a lot of humans in skirts. Fenris staying silent somewhat shocked Hawke, yet she had a feeling that if she chose to do something that would displease him he would become very vocal.
"Feynriel, if you went to the Dalish they would accept you but not with open arms, they would consider you a blemish on their kind for not being fully elf," Hawke said, watching the boy's reaction to what she had said.
He seemed calm about what she had said, as if he would rather be amongst them than stuck in the Gallows. The Dalish did not see magic as sinful as the Chantry; they were lenient in that way.
"I am as much Dalish as I am human, I'd rather be struck down by the Dalish than made Tranquil at the slightest nightmare. My mother said the Keeper could even take me on as her first, if I harnessed my magic," the boy said, obviously thinking it through for a few moments.
"Well, if you believe it would be a good idea, then I agree with your decision, you must control these nightmares. If you cannot, and you feel yourself slipping then you must take the required action," she said seriously, her tone no longer light as she viewed the boy as a potential abomination. But she knew that the elves would take him down with not even a blink of their cold eyes.
She heard Fenris snort behind her, and rolled her eyes. She had a feeling when the boy left that she would have to deal with either a few foreign curses, or a full blown rant. From the first day she had met the elf he had done nothing but spout about how mages were vipers, and that they were evil. She looked at his scowl from the corner of her eye.
Well, at least he must like me enough to not give me a lovely pet name like he has with Anders and Merril.
"Keeper helps him with his magic, no one gets locked up sounds like a good plan to me Aria," Anders said, ignoring Fenris' snort. She almost flinched at someone other than her family using her first name, but resisted it by concentrating on the boy that was debating about his fate.
"Thank you! In my wildest dreams I could not have foreseen your kindness!" the boy stammered, looking at Hawke as if she was his saviour.
"Well, get a move on before more of your delightful friends make an appearance," Hawke said, nodding at the exit.
As if not to be told twice, the boy moved quickly but before he made his way to the exit he thrusted himself upon Hawke, and hugged her tightly. She stood awkwardly whilst the boy embraced her, and was still a bit dazed after the boy had left.
She turned to see Varric giving her a wicked grin, as if knowing how uncomfortable the boy's forwards embrace had been. She gave him a stern glare, but it didn't deter the dwarf. Instead, she opted to go down the childish route, and just stick her tongue out at him in defeat.
"The Circle is necessary, you said," Fenris drawled, looking at her.
"I said sometimes," she replied coolly.
"That boy has all of the symptoms of becoming an abomination and you let him walk into the world," Fenris argued, his voice becoming strained as if he was trying to control himself.
"No, the dreams meant that he must have been resisting the demons well, plus the Keeper can sense when someone's willpower is beginning to wane and she will destroy whatever threatens her clan," Hawke replied, deflecting his argument with her reasons. She had quite a knack for debates, yet she tried to never raise her voice, unless it was an argument that was full of curses. Nothing was good without a good curse.
Fenris looked as if he was about to say something, then faltered. She watched as he tried to find a way to argue back to her statement. It seemed he couldn't argue back, for he just merely mashed his lips together and nodded at her.
She felt smug that she had made the elf back down; it seemed something that not many people had the power to do. A lump rose to her throat as she thought that maybe her and his former master had something in common.
She turned her smug smile upon Varric, who yawned as if he was about to fall asleep in the slaver carven, Anders looked no different than his usual self, but she wondered if that was because he was always so exhausted; the healer opened his clinic for most of the day, and his spare time he hunted herbs and other regents to aid his clinic, and if it wasn't that it was trying to strike up a mage rebellion from the inside. Fenris, however, did not look remotely tired. It was as if the elf did not need sleep, or had been accustomed to not much sleep, unlike Varric and Anders he had no slump to his shoulders, and he was stood tall and stoic as always.
"If anybody needs me, leave a message with Norah at the bar and I'll most likely get out of hibernation next year," Varric said, stifling a yawn.
"I think I'll join with that," Hawke said, realising how exhausted she was.
"Hawke, how many times do I have to tell you? No threesomes, Maker, you're starting to sound like Isabela!" Varric exclaimed, putting his hand up as if to shoo her away like he did Isabela when she attempted to get her hands on his hairy chest.
"Oh up yours, bastard dwarf."