A warning in advance: there are some angsty scenes in the first part of this chapter.

And I apologize for all the Italic. Personally I find it a bit irritating to read but after ample contemplation I decided it served its purpose.

Thank you so much for your lovely invigorating reactions!

Enjoy!

Wintersend part 17

Hawke had closed her eyes in a rather childish way – she would be the first to acknowledge it – to ward off the voice that had pestered her for such a long time. Instinctively she wanted to crawl into a secret corner and hide under a protective cover; instead she forced herself to bring back the feeling of Cole's comforting fingers that gently stroked away the pain and let her discover the vile lies that hid behind the hurtful words. And so she found out a heartbeat too late Fenris had staggered back violently and had fallen defencelessly on his knees, his whole body twisted in agony. And she realised in that fraction the voice not only confronted with old hurt and failures but also brought back memories, preferably in ugly perverse ways. Fenris and memories... She cursed herself. She should have seen this coming.

It was a hot day, even for Seheron standards and humidity hung thick in the air. He remembered his hair, black as the wings of ravens, was sticky with sweat. He remembered little moist beads gathering at the back of his neck and dripping down his temples. He remembered the beach, the grains of sand almost burning the soles of his bare feet, the waves softly rolling and murmuring, the gulls screaming overhead, lured by the promise of easy bounty. He remembered how he and his father were having difficulties with hauling the fishnet that was heavy with a particularly large amount of fish, off the deck of the boat. And how his younger sister came crying with joy skipping over the beach to admire their catch, her flaming red hair almost ablaze in the sunlight. She was followed by their mother, her face one big loving smile. They weren't rich but they were free and happy in their little cabin at the coast. He was twelve years old and life was good.

And yet ... and yet something dark and ominous lurked at the horizon. And he realised what it was.

Someone was violently shaking his shoulders. And from far away a voice urgently pleaded, 'Fenris! Come back! It isn't real! Don't believe it!'

But he was locked in the steel grip of fear; his heart froze in his chest and he couldn't breathe.

The portentous sound of marching feet came swiftly near. When he looked up he saw a small contingent of about twenty soldiers advancing – he corrected himself. Of course they weren't soldiers. They were guards, heavily armed and armoured guards, well paid to protect a magister of grand standing. He winced in horrified anticipation because he knew what would follow. A richly decorated sedan chair was lowered and two slaves spread a blanket on the sand. The heavy brocade curtains opened and out he climbed.

The sky darkened as if threatening thunderclouds swallowed the sun and a cold breeze swept over the beach, turning the little beads of sweat into icicles. An involuntary shiver crept down his spine. Just like he, his father stood nailed to the ground but his mother stepped forward and made a deep respectful bow. 'Master Danarius,' she said, 'you honour us with your presence.'

'You had an offer for me,' the magister replied coolly.

'He stands over there, you will find him very useful.' His mother pointed at him. The loving smile was gone and instead her expression had become hard as granite. He was so shocked he couldn't utter a word. And then the calculating eyes of Danarius were all over him. 'He is a pretty boy,' he said, his voice dripping with greed, 'I'll take him.'

His father roared back to life. 'No!' he yelled, 'you cannot have him!'

At a simple nod of Danarius one of the guards stepped forward and drew his sword. The blade made a sweeping arc through the air and with one powerful slash separated his father's head from his torso. Blood spurted like a grizzly fountain from his neck and hot drops splashed like a red rain over his son. For a bizarre moment the decapitated body kept standing, then it keeled slowly over. He gasped. How could he have ever forgotten about this?!

Danarius flashed a cruel smile and turned to his mother. He snapped his fingers and a slave hurried forward with a small bag. 'You will find the payment most satisfying,' the magister said. 'Come, pretty boy, you're my property now.'

Before he could react the guard who had murdered his father tethered him with iron manacles attached to a chain. He dragged him along and fastened the other end of the chain to the sedan chair. 'Be careful,' Danarius warned while he climbed back into his vehicle, 'don't damage my new possession, he is too valuable. I paid good money for him.'

Stunned with appalled disbelief he looked over his shoulder when they set off. His mother already walked back to their house without another look. His sister stood staring after him with wide open eyes. She parted her lips but no sound came, silently her mouth formed his name. Leto.

Like an enemy army all his lost memories at once stormed his mind, battering down the walls, destroying what rested of his meagre defences, overwhelming him. His memories might have been painfully detailed at the start, now they became more and more incoherent.

The whiplashes, the beatings, the starving, all the humiliation and harsh punishments to break his spirit and make him into an obedient slave, the brutal treatment of his fellow slaves ... the sexual abuses ... A low feral howl started at the back of his throat and worked its way up to a tormented eardrum-shattering scream until his whole existence was filled with unbearable agony but the images and sounds refused to go away. He clawed at his head as if he wanted to tear the memories out but with cruel doggedness they persevered.

Someone slapped him hard across the face. 'Snap out of it!'

He hardly noticed and had he wanted to he couldn't react to it; he was caught in a cage and he kept on screaming when the horror grew only worse. He wasn't aware his lyrium scars flew alight to blinding point. He distantly perceived the blaze but never realised he was the source. Like a fall of sharp cutting stones the memories kept coming.

Anders stumbled over his feet when the wave of evil sound washed over him. But before it could get a hold on him the words got overruled and chased away by a piercing blood curdling scream that threatened to rip apart the very fabric of the Fade itself. 'What the hell?' he panted and then recognition hit home. 'Fenris?!' Without further thinking he started running. Despite the sizzling rows the two of them had had in the past and the risk of getting killed on the spot, he couldn't let this expression of unbearable mind crushing suffering go on. The essence of the healer kicked in, that part of him that against all odds hadn't been smothered by all the occurrences of the past four years loudly let itself heard. The next moment he got taken over by a former spirit with even more haste than he. Cole was running as if all the demons of the Fade were on his tail and made very clear time was pressing. And Time might bend in strange curves down or up here and even spiral around herself, right now the laws of the living world applied and they commanded there was no time to lose.

The inner courtyard of Danarius's country estate in Seheron, baking in the blistering sun. He, somehow still standing, the last one standing, covered in sweat and dust and blood. Blood also dripping from his sword. At his feet the only friend he ever made in the magister's household. Dead. He stared at the butchered body, stared into the lifeless eyes as if he just woke up from a haze. From an irrational dream. From something that couldn't have happened. That shouldn't have happened. Dead. He was dead. His friend was dead. His doing. Why? You competed for it you competed for it you competed for it. You wanted this. It is all your fault, all your own fault. No! he screamed.

Another sound started to penetrate the mayhem raging in his mind. It was soft but persistent, some kind of chant, repeated over and over again like a mantra. Gentle fingers caressed his face, applying mild pressure on his temples. A mellow light seemed to seep into his head, first in blinking dots that gradually connected to swaying ribbons; they wove together to make a soft but strong shield wall that with inexorable determination shoved the cruel images out of his mind. Slowly the memories grew fainter and finally faded into the background. Peace descended, leaving him with a mild headache, an aching throat and burning lungs. But no more inner pain. Just calm and stillness.

'That's better,' murmured a voice he vaguely recognized, 'sometimes it is better to forget.' There was no victory in the voice, only a strange mild form of satisfaction he didn't understand. He let out a light sigh, it didn't matter. His mind was at peace again although it was a brittle, very brittle peace.

The voice got replaced by a much more familiar one, a warm and loving and beloved one. His sigh changed to relief by feeling her presence. 'It's all right Fenris, I'm here. I'm with you.' Her warm arms held him firmly and her fingers tenderly stroked his hair and back. He clutched her shoulders as if he had been in danger of drowning and she had just rescued him from certain death by dragging him out off life-threatening churning white water rapids. He buried his face in her shoulder. 'She sold me,' he rasped in a hoarse whisper, giving word to the one memory that had been so shocking it wouldn't go away entirely, 'my mother sold me.' Marian was the only one he would confide in, the only one he trusted with this awful revelation.

Hawke cringed. It took all of her self control not to burst out in rage. That monster! 'No Fenris, she didn't,' she said as soothingly as she could manage, fervently trying to hide the tremor in her voice 'it is what he wants you to believe. He wants to break you.' And did a damn good job too, she thought bleakly. She put her arms tighter around him and cradled him like a baby. 'It is not true,' she mumbled, 'whatever he showed you, it is not true.' She tried to pour the love she carried for him through her fingers into his skin, into his very essence and to her relief she felt his labouring breath slowly even out. The last flicker of his lyrium markings extinguished.

The others stood clustered around them, rendered speechless, and stared unsettled at the puddle of misery and despair the fierce elven warrior had turned into. This was so unlike him they didn't know how to react. So at first they just stared. Mesmerised and ill at ease.

Dorian was the first to break the awkward spell. 'Ye gods,' he muttered after a few moments, 'I reckoned Danarius was perverse, but this goes far beyond my darkest suspicions.' Because it was more than obvious where the birthplace of this torment originated.

'Makes you think twice about the benefits of slavery, doesn't it. Again so, I hope,' Evelyn replied savagely, her mouth a harsh thin line. Despite Hawke's warning she had been trapped in the clutches of the Nightmare herself but almost immediately woke out of it when the flash of blue-white lyrium exploded like a warning beacon.

'Hawke said it, whatever it was Fenris saw, wasn't real,' Cullen said hesitantly, suppressing a shiver. He caught himself staring at the elf in comprehension. There had been a short but very vivid string of disturbing pictures of the mages who had been made tranquil under his command as Knight Captain, accompanied by a near intolerable feeling of guilt. But before the last face, that he knew with near certainty would have been Evelyn's, became clear, the strident scream had thankfully shaken him back into the present.

Dorian cast a short sidelong glance at Evelyn's grim face. 'I figure even if they are twisted and warped, his memories must have been horrendous to start with.' He had not the heart to repeat House Pavus was by no means comparable to Danarius's evil and disgusting practices. He was certain she would scorch him with an exceptionally vicious fireball if he dared to and moreover it was of no importance at this moment. Silently he had to admit it would have been a misplaced arrogant remark, fit for a member of Tevinter nobility. Makes you think twice indeed. He felt deeply ashamed. For his people, for his country and, yes, for himself. The insight was more than unnerving and he wondered secretly if this also was the influence of that grating voice. Nervously he plucked at his impeccable moustache.

The Iron Bull swallowed hard. There weren't many things that could put him off balance. Mostly they made him just go off. Without any additives. But this blatant testimony of pure and utter suffering played havoc on his mind, much more so than the sudden half forgotten fears from his youth had done. Those he had already disregarded as irksome pinpricks from the past. Annoying but not significant. He had stood on the brink of shouting challenging: is this the best you can do?! when the elf broke down. Or better shattered to pieces. Obviously the Nightmare could do better. He had come to know Fenris as a steadfast person and he couldn't begin to fathom what the elf had had to endure in his period of enslavement to collapse like this. He hazarded a glance from the corner of his eye at Dorian. The man looked as if he was responsible for the elf's misery. Good, was his first impulsive thought. He frowned. No. Not good. Dorian had come to Haven to put things right. He allowed himself a small inner smile. Well, perhaps some personal vendetta had played its part, or better some juvenile reaction to his father's dominance, but on the whole he had been sincere in his intention. He didn't deserve such a scornful criticism, not even a silent one.

Finally Fenris lifted his head and the sad look he gave Marian almost broke her heart. 'I am sorry,' he croaked, the rough velvet of his voice coarse like gravel due to his desperate scream, 'once again we are in the Fade and once again I fail you.'

Hawke tried not to flinch which wasn't easy. How typical him, dwelling on the mistakes he made, blaming himself, at least when he thought he had wronged her. She cupped his face with both hands and conjured up her most reassuring smile. 'How can you say such a thing? You didn't fail me!'

'You didn't let that – thing ensnare you,' Fenris said miserably.

'No? I cannot help but recall quite plainly I let that thing drive me away from you. And you saw what a nervous wreck I was after you found me! And I didn't have my lost memories thrown at me like some kind of avalanche of horrors!'

Fenris grimaced. 'I can no longer imagine why I was so adamant on having my memories back,' he said, 'I should have realised it could only reveal obnoxious facts.'

With a tender gesture Marian wiped the silken moonlike bangs of his dishevelled hair from his brow. 'Those weren't facts,' she began but Fenris shook his head and stopped her before she could end her sentence.

'Perhaps not but I don't want to talk about it. Not now.' He looked pleadingly and she melted. This was the look she never could resist. 'I need to think about it and this is neither the place nor the time.'

'Of course, love, you're right. For starters we should have access to several bottles of wine. Or preferably a well-stocked wine cellar.' Which earned her a wan smile. And at this grave moment she couldn't ask for more.

With some difficulty Fenris stood and his eyes fell on Cole who looked sincerely back. 'He only wants to hurt you,' the boy said softly, 'and he will lie to do that. He lies all the time.'

Only now Fenris remembered he had met the – whatever he was – at Skyhold. Back then he had hardly taken notice of him. He remembered him as the boy with the hat. Somewhere lingering in the background. Looking at him intensely. Then again, he was used to people looking at him intensely. It came with the markings. He had disregarded his attention the moment he got aware of it. And now the strange boy was here and had eased his trepidation. He had serious troubles getting his brain around that fact especially since aforesaid brain was still a bit foggy. The boy hadn't been with them when they fell into the Fade, so how had he managed to get here? Tired the elf rubbed his forehead. It could wait, just like the images still nagging at the edge of his conscience could wait to be dealt with. 'I really hope he did,' he mumbled after some considerations, 'thank you for the help you gave.'

'That's what he's here for,' Varric for the first time raised his voice, 'Corypheus sticks knives in your guts and Cole stands ready with metaphorical bandages and ointments.' Even in his own ears he sounded hysterically cheerful, with the emphasis on hysterically. But then again he had never seen Fenris like this. Vicious, yes. Furious, that also. Broody, definitely. Out of control? Never. Let alone he would lose himself in public like a depression on a rampage. He pinched the bridge of his nose. This stupid description, colourful as it might be, and the words he thoughtlessly had blurted out were painfully inappropriate. He knew of course but he was completely out of his depth. So much in fact he had ended on the top of Mount Bewilderment.

'Thank you so much for the bright explanation, Varric,' Evelyn said sarcastically, 'where would we be without your sharp wit?' She turned to the Qunari. 'Bull? Next time you feel the urge to hit someone, leave Fenris alone and try to knock some sense into the dwarf instead.'

'Hey!' Bull reacted indignantly, 'I was just trying to help!'

Evelyn stuck out her chin. 'By treating Fenris like a silly frenzied chit?'

With one slightly raised dark eyebrow Fenris's gaze wandered from one companion to the other and he couldn't help notice they all still looked more than a little taken aback. It didn't sit well with him that was his doing. 'I apologize for my behaviour,' he said.

'Are you mad?' Varric countered hotly, 'if the nightmares of my past would pounce upon me unannounced, I daren't take responsibility for what I'd do. Probably let Bianca run amok in which case you'd all have ended up looking like very dead porcupines.'

Fenris couldn't suppress a laugh though it was a shaky one. He felt Marian's hand slip into his and squeeze softly. Encouraged by this simple gesture he definitely pulled himself together. 'I think we'd better focus on finding the exit to this dismal place,' he continued, 'we've spend too much time on my fit already.' And then his look fell upon Anders who a fraction too late tried to dissolve between the stalagmites.

Impatiently Leliana stood tapping her foot, growing more and more frustrated by the minute. 'What do you mean, they vanished?' she snarled at one of her subordinates, 'people don't just vanish like that! They must be somewhere! And where's Cullen?' She had just entered Adamant Fortress to assess the situation and immediately she blundered into trouble.

The scout shrugged helplessly. 'I truly don't know. I haven't seen him since the start of the battle.'

'Eh, ma'am,' one of the soldiers who stood nearby timidly piped up, 'the Commander went after the Inquisitor when the battle was over. I saw him running up the stairs.'

Leliana cursed inwardly. 'Besotted fool,' she grumbled under her breath. She glared angrily at the rift that hung menacing above the courtyard of Adamant Fortress. At least it looked dormant; no demon had appeared through it – yet. And the archdemon, or dragon or whatever that beast was supposed to be, had taken its leave as abrupt as it had shown up. The stronghold was captured without too many casualties on their side; the surviving Grey Wardens had been driven together into a corner of the courtyard and were guarded by Inquisition soldiers although, admittedly, there wasn't much guarding necessary. They were meek as lambs, especially the mages. Count your blessings, Leliana mused mordantly. Everything was going great but for the absence of the Inquisitor and the Commander.

'I believe they all chased Clarel,' the soldier said helpfully, 'up to the ramparts. But we found only the Grey Warden commander's corpse and the unconscious body of Erimond up there.'

Leliana grunted exasperated. 'Captain Halbert!' she called out, 'you're in charge for the time being. See to it the order gets restored and keep an eye on that blasted thing.' She pointed with an aggressive finger at the slow pulsating rift. She addressed the scout standing next to her. 'Search the castle, comb it from top to bottom. I want every last Warden to be found. Look also for a sign of Marian Hawke. Any sign. And send some people to investigate the surroundings as well. I expect a full report at morning. And you,' she turned to the soldier, 'take me to the ramparts.'

Fifteen minutes and a lot of staircases later Leliana stood staring at the crumbled fortifications. She felt her pulse pick up a few paces too many. 'You don't think –' she cleared her throat to get rid of the annoying lump that began to form, 'you don't think they have fallen to their deaths?'

'No ma'am,' the soldier answered, 'there were no bodies lying at the foot of the wall. We've already looked. However...' He hesitated.

'However what?', Leliana snapped, 'spit it out!'

'Someone claims he saw a rift pop up, right over this spot, just after the dragon flew away.' Cautiously the soldier took a step backward. 'He claims the Inquisitor did it. I thought he was talking rubbish. Ma'am.'

'A rift? Another one than the one down in the courtyard?' The soldier nodded wordlessly. 'I need to speak with that witness.' With rising alarm Leliana stared at the innocent looking star-jewelled sky. If there had been a rift, there wasn't a trace of it left. 'Demons come from the other side of rifts,' she mumbled. A terrifying suspicion arose and she took a few deep breaths to calm down. 'If what your witness says is true, then it might well be they ended up in the Fade.' And if Cullen ran after Trevelyan, undoubtedly he is with them, she thought. What a mess.

'Maker's balls!' the soldier swore. 'Sorry.'

'Right,' Leliana said determined, 'find me that person. Now.'

'Yes ma'am.' The man darted away.

She scolded herself for letting her wariness slip; she never should have uttered her concern aloud, it could only cause panic. 'Very professional, Spymaster,' she scoffed, 'well done.' She hoped ardently the soldier what's-his-name and his shady witness would keep their blather mouths shut. On the other hand, if the Inquisitor and the Commander really were trapped in the Fade, it would be a matter of very short time before the whole fortress was in an uproar. With a deep weary sigh she followed the soldier and wistfully descended the stairs. 'Oh Evelyn, what have you done,' she murmured, 'Andraste preserve you all.'

I truly hope we can crawl out off that damned Fade in the next chapter; to be honest I'm fed up with it.

As always thank you very much for reading!