Disclaimer: This chapter uses canon quest "A bitter pill" as its base. I do not own the idea of the ambush or the dialogue that happens during. That is from the amazing writers of Bioware.
Chapter 7.
"I thought you disliked the Dalish," Anders said, his voice breaking the heavy silence.
"I do. Or rather, I don't understand them. Who would want to live like that, hunting for game, living in the dirt and dreaming of some distant history—that most likely is just legends, Fenris snorted, his voice laced with disdain.
"So you dislike mages. You dislike your own race. Is there anything you don't hate?" Anders asked, glancing at Hawke.
"Quite a few things actually. None of them any of your business." Fenris's sharp reply left little room for questions. Why did Anders have a need to talk to him, they were here on business, not on a happy afternoon stroll through the mountainside.
Just as Anders opened his mouth, finally figured out some snide remark, the group was stopped by a group of hunters. The leader standing on a ledge, eyes narrowed as he stared down at them.
"Stop right there! You are in possession of stolen property. Back away from the slave now, and you'll be spared!"
Fenris's blood ran cold. They had found him again.
His hand twitched at the hilt of his sword, his markings flaring instinctively, responding to his anger. He fought hard to keep the rage in check, but how could he forget all the years of pain, of being hunted.
A part of him wanted to charge forward, to remind these slavers of the freedom he had. But another, deeper and darker part of him—the part that had so long as someone's possession—whispered that maybe this was all he deserved. A dark thought flashed in his head, how he could just kneel and they wouldn't hurt Hawke. They would leave the man alone.
But before he could make the decision to strike—or yield—Hawke's voice rang out, clear, but fierce.
"Fenris is a free man", he shouted, teeth bared and brow furrowed with anger. "I won't let you take him!"
Fenris glanced at Hawke, disbelief mixing with something else—a warmth he still refused to name. Hawke had spoken with such certainty, clearly prepared to defend the elf against the slavers, not caring what they might do to him.
The leader of the hunters spoke again, trying to scare Hawke and the rest of them to leave him behind. Anders was trying his best to hide his feelings, but knowing the man, he wouldn't object if Hawke just gave the elf to the slavers.
That thought finally pushed Fenris over the edge. "I am not your slave!" He shouted, themarkings glowing, pale and menacing light surrounding his whole body. He had gotten so used to the discomfort he felt when using the Lyrium, he barely even registered it any more. His sword was raised and he felt the rush of the fight course through his veins. He would not be taken back, he'd rather die than wear a collar around his neck!
The fight was over quickly, bloodied corpses littered the dust, their bodies covered in cuts and burns. But there was still one man breathing. Fenris approached him, resisting the urge to kill him immediately—he still needed information.
The man was barely conscious, begging for his life, desperate to trade it for whatever little information he had. Fenris had no need for the pathetic slaver; he knew exactly where the caves were located.
Hadriana was so close, he could practically hear her mocking laughter, see her face twisted in cruel delight as she had tormented him.
Fenris twisted the man's neck with a swift, brutal motion, relieving him of this world. Fury was still raging within him as he stood up. "We must go quickly, before Hadriana has a chance to prepare… or flee."
"They are no longer a threat, Fenris." Hawke said, his tone flat, his emotions carefully hidden.
Fenris was still seething. He had to get Hawke to understand the gravity of the situation. Either they hunted Hadriana now or she would strike again. Worse, she could slip away and Fenris would never find peace—not for himself, and not for anyone else, until every last trace of his torments was gone.
"We have more important things on our plate", Hawke said, clearly trying to defuse Fernis's anger.
"More important. More important to whom?!" Fenris spat, his voice low but filled with venom. They'd left Kirkwall because of Merrill's foolish mirror. That could wait. This was about finding and killing one of Danarius's most important pupils. Getting revenge on Hadriana was at the top of his priorities. "Fine! I'll mark the caves on your map but if Hadriana is gone by the time we get to it…"
Hawke's voice was low, measured, yet there was something else behind it. "I made a promise…" He hesitated, jaw tight, eyes filled with sorrow. He turned away, conflicted and sad, walking off with the others.
Fenris's fist clenched at his sides, his body taut with anger. "What about the promises you made to me?," he muttered under his breath, quiet enough that nobody heard the bitter words.
His eyes narrowed, watching the others walk ahead. The last thing he wanted was a detour to the Dalish. It seemed Hawke had a valid reason to delay, but Fenris couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal. First Hawke declared wanting only him, but when he needed him, the man refused to help.
Fenris glanced back at the battle site. Killing slavers had always been one of his favourite pastimes, but now even that felt hollow. Hadriana was so close, yet he couldn't go after her immediately. Going alone would be a suicide, and Fenris wasn't about to give Danarius that satisfaction.
He followed the group in silence, ignoring their idle chatter. His thought remained consumed by what it would feel like to tear his hand through Hadriana, to hold the woman's heart in his hand. If she even had a heart.
They finally reached the camp, and Hawke and Merrill went to speak with the Keeper. Fenris looked around, still baffled by how anyone could choose to live like this. The Alianage was terrible, yes—but living like this, wandering from place to place like refugees, living on the scraps they managed to scavenge from the wilds, was no better.