Happens after Questioning Beliefs (Act 2).
Purple Rogue Male Hawke, with rivalrymance initiated. (Rivalry 100% and all previous flirts)
Warnings: sexual abuse, substance (alcohol) abuse, violence
The premise was especially inspired by the "This is your new master…" "He's no one's slave. Fenris doesn't belong to anyone." "Do I detect a note of jealousy? Not surprising. The lad is rather skilled, isn't he?" - conversation during "Alone".
Chapter 1.
The room is suddenly lit with a pale, blue glow as the elf's green eyes shoot open. Another nightmare of the past.
"Venhidis…," Fenris hissed between his teeth, tossing the wrinkled cover aside and standing up as the glow slowly subsided, leaving the room dim, only a small beam of the moonlight bringing any light to the darkness. He walked to the window, the cold sweat still glistening on his skin, as the memory of the nightmare still lingered clear in his mind. He had run away, but the collar and chains were still clearly in place.
Not wanting to fall asleep again, the white haired elf walked to the living room. The fire had nearly died, but rekindled quickly as he tossed some more wood into the hearth. As the heat from the flames slowly started to warm up the cool room, the shivering finally stopped.
The dreams always felt so real. He was back in Tevinter, a slave. Nothing but property to be used and abused, at the mercy of Danarius and his apprentices. In name, he had been the magistrates bodyguard, the ultimate weapon against his enemies… but too many times he had been much more - a pet to warm his bed in the nights. Fenris shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. He felt tainted and sick to his stomach, imagining those hands gripping him once more.
Fenris recalled the wine left in the cellar - perhaps it would drown out the nightmares again. He grabbed a wolf pelt from the floor, wrapping it around his slender frame before heading to the cellar. Wine was a bad substitute for sleep, but he just couldn't face any more demons from his past tonight.
The cellar was even colder than the rest of the house, air rank with mildew and animal droppings, rats scuffling back to their nests as Fenris walked further in, trying to find what he wanted—needed—from the mostly empty shelves. Maybe he should bring the rest of the bottles up, then he wouldn't have to come back down here again and the cure for nightmares would be easier to grab.
Fenris found what he was looking for and started heading back, wiping the bottoms of his feet to the stairs. Not that his housekeeping was anything to compliment, but going to bed with feet covered in literal shit was a bit too much.
As he neared the end of the staircase, Fenris heard light footsteps from the hall. Cursing under his breath, he slowed down, preparing for a battle. Another ambush was just what he needed right now.
His sword was neatly propped against his bedroom wall–out of reach. At least he could still pierce through a few of them before capture. His lyrium markings flared, cold rage igniting within him as his fingers curled, ready to strike.
"You could always take a lantern with you, might be a bit less… ominous?"
A familiar voice made the elf relax instantly, the cold glow disappearing as soon as it had appeared.
"Hawke, you really should stop lockpicking my door." Fenris huffed, walking to the doorway.
The human was sitting on a broken down couch, grinning widely. "I was just coming home from the Hanged Man and I noticed you were still awake. Needed some consoling after Varric picked me clean, again."
"So you came to me?" The words were a bit harsh, but softened up by the small smile on Fenris's face.
He joined the man in the living room, sitting down in the worn out armchair before the fireplace. The nightmare still lingered in the back of his mind, but Hawke had a way of making him relax. Maybe a bit of harmless flirting and stupid jokes was just what he needed to forget, along with some wine.
"I mean, after looking at Varric's face for the past three hours, the scenery has improved significantly, " Hawke said with a flirt in his voice, lifting his eyebrow.
Fenris let out a dry laugh as he opened the bottle. "I'd offer you some, but I think you've had enough wine for one night."
"It's not just the alcohol, I meant what I said," Hawke said defensively, staring at Fenris with a serious look on his face. "I think you are…"
The words faded out, almost like the man didn't know what to say. Rare for someone like Hawke, who usually spoke his mind, even to the Arishok.
Fenris coughed, feeling suddenly insecure, his upper body covered only by the pelt, the markings visible on his bare chest and arms. Hawke's eyes felt intrusive, sweeping over his body like that.
He took another long sip from the bottle trying to ignore his insecurity in the moment. As the liquid poured down, the familiar warmth settled in his throat and stomach, instantly taking the harshest edge of his inner turmoil. "So, are we heading out tomorrow?"
"Do you really want to talk about that, right now?" Hawke looked at the elf, his eyes dark, partially hidden behind his lashes. So far their flirting had been lighthearted, just an occasional blurt from Hawke, usually deflected by Fenris.
The man was definitely handsome and fun to be around, but he wasn't sure how serious it could ever be—or if he still was ready to trust anyone like that.
Fenris glanced at the man, sipping his wine. "What, I thought your life was all about meeting weird people and getting into trouble?"
"That's one part of it, sure. That's how we met for example. Little old me and my band of misfits, rescuing a dark, mysterious, and handsome elf from mercenaries," Hawke joked, winking at the elf.
"Or something like that…. you've clearly been spending too much time with Varric, spinning tall tales," Fenris chuckled dryly.
Hawke pointed at the quickly emptying bottle in Fenris's hand, smirking slightly. "I thought you meant to work on your hosting skills."
"Maybe don't burgle your way into my house and I might be a bit more prepared to host." Fenris took another small sip before leaning towards the man, offering a drink. "I could have even bought some glasses."
Hawke grabbed the bottle, his fingertips grazing Fenris's, just for a moment. The tiniest touch felt like a jolt of lighting, causing the elf to pull back on his chair. The feeling wasn't particularly painful, just intense, especially after the dreams he had seen. He kept wondering if he ever could be touched normally, without his markings reacting.
Hawke took a long swig from the bottle before handing it over, Fenris carefully avoiding the man's fingers this time. "You weren't kidding. That is very nice wine indeed. No wonder that guy hoarded some bottles."
Fenris's mood darkened further at the mention of his old master. "Danarius certainly had a taste for elusive things."
Hawke, however, didn't seem to notice the shift in his friend's mood, still staring at the elf, a small smile on his handsome face. "I can see the appeal of elusive, beautiful things…," he whispered with a husky voice.
Fenris coughed, pretending to yawn. "Wouldn't you look at that, the bottle is empty, and I think I should head to bed. It's late and we have an early mission tomorrow." He hoped the man would take the hint, he was tired and not in the mood to deal with Hawke's shameless flirting at the moment.
"I was just thinking about when we last met, our last conversation—how there might be something more between us. Something you might be willing to try out…" Hawke said tentatively, his eyes dark as he continued eyeing Fenris. There was something very primitive and dangerous in the way he looked.
Finally it hit Fenris why the man had come tonight, after a few rounds of drinks. He was drunk, horny and what would be an easier partner than an escaped slave. Anger lifted its ugly head once more, all his past trauma entwining with this moment.
"I'm not just some whore you can turn to when you are feeling horny after drinking all night," Fenris spat out. The situation was all too familiar from his past. He should have known; these people would never see him as anything but a pet to drag to their beds.
Fenris got up, turning his back to Hawke. His face was dark, flames playing in his delicate features, painting his skin and hair red. "I think you should leave."
"I didn't…" Fenris heard Hawke standing up, walking closer. Before he could react, he felt Hawke placing his hand on the bare shoulder. Another jolt, this time even more intense, coursed through his body, the glow resurfacing.
"Don't touch me!" Fenris cried out as he moved away from the touch. "Get out of my house, now!" He turned to face Hawke, a mixture of pain, fear and anger twisting his features.
Hawke looked hurt, his mouth opening as if to speak. They both just stood in silence for a moment. Fenris was still prepared to defend himself if needed. He wasn't a slave any more and nobody would hurt him like Danarius, ever again.
"I'm… sorry… I didn't mean to scare you, " Hawke finally muttered. "I didn't mean to… I'll just… " He turned away, clearly trying to find the right words.
Fenris just stared at his back, watching for any sign of attack. Instead, the man just glanced over his shoulder, face still a mixture of hurt and fear. His eyes kept drifting away, almost afraid to face him. "Good… night, Fenris."
And just like that, Hawke left, leaving Fenris alone with his thoughts. When he finally heard the door lock, he yelled in frustration, throwing the empty bottle into the wall, shattering it into pieces. The shards scattered at his bare feet, reflecting the firelight into small prisms on the walls, as if the whole room was ready to burst into flames. He stared at them for a long moment, his hands still shaking.
Guess there would be no more sleep tonight.