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Savage Impulses	By : TropicalFool Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 5161 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
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So, he had a sister… maybe. News imparted by a Tevinter magister begging for her life was hardly of the most reliable variety, but her dying conversation had sparked something in Fenris.
I was down to one ne'er-do-well uncle who I considered taking a personal contract out on almost daily, and now Fenris had a sibling. It was hard to think of him as ever having had family, of being a child with a mother and father. He was more a force of nature, but if it softened him just that tiny bit…
Of course I suspected a trap. Having her show up in Kirkwall, and at our base of operations, the venerable Hanged Man, was a bit much to swallow. It could be that she just wanted to see her lost brother that badly, but the information had come from Danarius' protégé—it had to be a trap.
It was easy to set our own ambush is such familiar territory and now all was in place. I had hired extra help, a few mages to Fenris disgust, but we were going up against one of the best of the Imperium, it seemed having a little magic to even the score would not be out of place. The regulars who could fight were put on the payroll, the rest discretely chased away for the afternoon. I'd paid dearly to rent the place and a hefty deposit against almost certain breakage. The tavern's staff were used to various brawls and knew when to duck and where to hide.
The traps were set, the personnel in place, and still he hoped it would be only the long lost sister. As much as he had made me suffer, it hurt to see the hope in his eyes.
The plan was that we would appear to be alone, Fenris and I, while the others would be in position in case (or when, in my opinion) the trouble started. When we entered the tavern, she was easy to spot, a homely elf girl sitting by herself, as out of place as a nug in the Chantry. I hung back as Fenris went up to talk with her. It wasn't long before the fireworks started.
I hated fights in the tavern, it was as much my home as the estate, maybe more so, but this one was not to be avoided. I was glad that I had my crew with me and that they were experienced in the ways of dark magic. They would not be fazed by whatever demons the Tevinter could pull from the Fade, and pull them he did.
Fenris fought like a machine, as he always did. Danarius, whatever else could be said against him, did know what he was doing when he created this weapon… except for that small issue of control. In this fight, I was very glad that the elf was on my side.
The hired mages earned their fee, the rest performed as I knew they would, and Danarius lay under Fenris' heel where he had so long wanted him. I wasn't sure what I expected, but the quick death he granted the magister surprised me. Perhaps now that the end was literally in his hand he couldn't resist. The sister, on the other hand, was another matter.
It was hard to see her beg, but she had betrayed him in the worst possible way. When the time came, he looked to me. I could have given him his sibling then, I suppose, although Maker knows if she would have ever been what he was looking for, but both my professional instinct and my very human jealously argued against it. "End it," I said in reply to his inquiring look, and he did. If I could just eliminate my troublesome uncle we would now both be without family.
I knew that it was the right thing to do for reasons beyond my own aching needs, but still guilt clung to me as we righted chairs and tables and sat down to serious drinking. I paid off the mages with extra coin and the suggestion that they leave—Anders and Merrill aggravated Fenris enough, I didn't think tonight an extra reminder of the role magic had played in his salvation would help. Anders, sensitive as always, corralled Merrill and the two quietly went upstairs to Varric's room, presumably to discuss mage matters.
Fenris was ebullient, the loss of a sister he couldn't remember nothing to him in comparison to being free of Danarius. For the first time in years, possibly in his life, he was a free elf. For me, I was tired, worn down by it all. I couldn't believe that things would actually change, it had been too many years.
We drank late into the night, then stumbled home, Fenris singing naughty Tevinter ditties. It even embarrassed Isabella, which I thought impossible. I saw him home. The deadly Fenris was in no shape to fight off even the most incompetent of cutthroats. When we reached his door and he was safely inside I turned to go, but was caught by the arm. He pulled me in, slamming the door with his foot. As he draped his arms around my neck, I said, "Fenris, you're drunk. If you do this now, you'll only regret it in the morning, and I would not be your regret."
He laughed merrily, then stepped back. In an instant he was sober, as dour as ever. "I thought you better than that, Hawke," he purred. "You downed three for every one of mine. My act made them happy. And made you happy. And I would do what I can to share the happiness that tonight has brought me."
I eyed him warily and a bit blearily. It was hard to keep track of all the mugs on the table, of all those that had been filled again and those that had not, but there was no doubt that he was more sober than me.
"So, you could have let me know that back when we passed my door," I said, a note of anger there no doubt. "Why drag me all the way up here? Or is it just to watch me creep away again, my tail between my legs?"
He looked up at me, his eyes narrowed. "Don't go pitiful on me, Hawke," he sneered, "or I may change my mind and send you back down that hill."
I was more drunk that I wished to admit and I had had enough. "Or keep me here, torment me, then send me down the hill?" I shot back.
To my utter astonishment, he grabbed my arm and pulled me close, pressing his lips to mine. I was still wary of a trick, too desolate to hope, and kept my mouth tightly sealed.
He pulled back and turned from me in disgust, saying over his shoulder, "You never understood, did you? I have loved you all these years," his hand indicated the red band and Amell crest, "but I would not offer you a slave. Until Danarius perished, I was his property. Tonight, for the first time since we have met, I am a free man, a man free to give his affections."
I shook my head, wiling my eyes to focus, my brain to connect. Was I really hearing this? And if so, was I truly the subject of these long held affections? In my distracted and besotted state I imagined him telling me now that there was another lover he was free to join, but thanks for all the years of devotion.
He looked at me, his head tipped to the side, then with a whispered, "Maker damn them all!" he was on me. That kiss I shall never forget. What followed was more passionate, but nothing in my life was sweeter than to feel those lips on mine, that mouth open in utter acceptance.
Clothes were shed, left where they dropped, and soon we were standing with our bellies pressed together, cocks squeezed between us, hands and tongues exploring. Strangely after so long waiting, we both seemed in no hurry. Perhaps it was the day, the fight, the drinking, but there was a delicious languid pace to our touches, as if we both realized that we now had all the time in the world to discover each other.
I was exploring his pointed ear with my tongue, my eyes closed, in utter bliss when I heard the laugh, not his, and too close. I jerked back and spun around, landing in a crouch desperately looking for my sword.
Stepping from the shadows was… Danarius, yet not Danarius. The same face, but older, a bit heavier, the hair touched with grey. Fenris was quicker than I. I saw his brands start to pulse as he prepared to spring when the figure before me held up a hand, saying softly, "Stand down or the pretty one gets a bolt though the chest."
A dozen or more crossbowmen stepped from the shadows of the other rooms, followed by at least the same number of swordsmen. How had we not heard them earlier? Fenris had subsided, but was still on guard as he snarled, "Danarius. I should have known I was not free of you. The fight was too easy, the setup too obvious."
The magister spoke in soothing, melodious tones as he mocked, "It was not for your intellect that I chose you, Fenris, and it seems that your companion is well matched to your limited capacity."
Ignoring the jibe and still looking for my sword out of the corner of my eye, I said, "So that wasn't you back in the Hanged Man? Some substitute, I presume?"
He looked at Fenris as he sneered, "Does he always ask the obvious like that? So tiresome. How do you stand it, my pet?" Turning to me, he said, "A Kirkwall apostate. They are desperate, you realize, and dull from being locked in your prison. You really should treat them better. It was a simple enough enchantment, giving him my face and voice. And as I suspected, poor Fenris was easily fooled. So sad.
"But enough chatter. It seems that I came for one slave and leave with two. The little romance was charming, by the way, I may have you replay it for my guests. Fenris, you know the position. Demonstrate, please, for our neophyte?"
Fenris' eyes were burning and I could see him shaking as he tried to control the brands, to keep them from firing. He was grinding his teeth as he snarled, "I am not your slave, Danarius. Never again."
Shrugging, the mage said, "How unfortunate then for this one." He moved a finger and a bolt of lightening shot towards me, searing a furrow across my chest. The room filled with the smell of cooked meat and despite myself I screamed in agony. Through the pain, I heard him say, "Yes, much better. You do remember."
As my vision cleared, I looked to Fenris who was standing very straight, his feet wide apart and his arms crossed behind his back. Danarius waved a hand and a silver coil wrapped itself around the elf, binding arms and legs with a length between them and a loop around his neck. I gaped at him, my mouth hanging open, then turned to Danarius. I couldn't believe what was happening. Were it not for the burn across my chest, I would have thought myself drunk and hallucinating. Until this moment my head had been filled with plans for escape, but as I looked at the armed men around us, I realized how foolish that was. There was no escape. Fenris would again be a slave, and I would join him.
Seemingly bored, Danarius said, "You see the position. If you would? It makes things so much easier and less messy. You will end up bound, so you might as well save yourself some pain. And, really, I've gone to enough trouble for you two. Any more and I may get testy."
Fenris wouldn't look at me; he stared determinedly at the corner on the room, his expression neutral. Sighing with possibly my last free breath, I imitated his position. The silver coil descended and I was surprised to find that it cold as it snaked across my naked body. The bindings were thorough and tight, with many wraps around my arms as well as hands. Listlessly I tested them, finding them as secure as I feared.
Fenris spoke, still looking at his corner. "You might as well kill me now, Danarius," he said. "I will not serve you, not even to save Hawke. Bind me, yes, but you will never again make me a slave."
I was watching the magister closely and shuddered when I saw a smile climb up his lips. "Oh, but you will, pet," he confidently replied. "My time in Kirkwall has not been wasted. It seems that your Templars are almost as desperate as your mages and easier to bribe. A little gold here, a few threats there and they were only too willing to show me the secret of a little rite they've been indulging in lately."
At this Fenris turned and started to take a step. Before his foot could land, his head was jerked back and he fell hard to his knees. The coil had come alive, pulling his feet from under him. I, on the other hand, had frozen, hoping that it was a bluff or a misunderstanding. Surely the Templars had not let the rite of Tranquility be compromised, allowed it to slip into the hands of a Tevinter magister of all people?
"You lie!" Fenris screamed.
Danarius laughed softly, an evil sound. "Oh no. I have no reason. Soon enough you will know, and then you will be as I always wanted you, unable to resist any command. I am glad that I found you here together, it has sparked ideas for all sorts of entertainments. You know, Fenris, how boring those obligatory dinners can be. And when I tire of you, I may have you kill each other. It would be artful to see if I could make it mutual, but then there is a certain lovely poignancy to leaving one of your alive too, not that you will care. It is simply a whim.
"But I waste time and the tide waits not even for me. Come." He turned and glided out. Fenris was permitted to regain his feet and we were herded out as well.
It was that quiet time just before morning proper. The streets were bare, the light of dawn barely breaking over the tall buildings. One of the thugs had thrown cloaks over us to cover our nakedness, but our feet were left bare and despite the desperation of my situation, I was intrigued by the cool marble against my soles. I couldn't help but think that this was a way that Fenris experienced his world that I never had. I realized that I was trying to distract myself when I heard the whippoorwill.
Before even the magical rope could react I'd thrown myself sideways at Fenris, knocking him to the ground as a ball of fire sped towards Danarius. The mage easily pushed it away, but several of his henchmen were not so lucky. Their screams were joined by battle cries and shouted orders.
Fortunately, the bindings had not tightened. Perhaps they required Danarius' attention, and he was busy at the moment. Still, it was difficult to move far without rubbing off some delicate bit against the pavement. We both managed to squirm behind a pillar where we had some protection as we watched the fight.
Fire, bolts, arrows were coming not only from the street, but from the balconies of buildings each side. Varric, it could only be Varric. But how had he known? I hadn't suspected, Fenris hadn't suspected… but then that was what Varric did, suspect and confirm and when confirmation was not at hand, take action anyway.
Electricity was now sizzling over the square and we ducked lower, hugging the ground. Before Danarius' men could recover, arrows rained down and I was glad we had the pillar between us and the action. It would be too sad if we were killed during our own rescue.
The fight was fairly one sided and short. Despite their numbers, Danarius' hired muscle were neither experienced nor smart, and my team was both. The bowmen never got off a volley, only isolated shots where and there, and the swords were hemmed in my the fire power, helpless. Almost to a man they were cut down where they stood, their bodies falling atop one another.
Danarius, however, was another matter. Seeing him now I could appreciate the strength of the Tevinter Imperium. He was facing Anders and Merrill, plus the two I had hired earlier—somehow Varric had retrieved them—plus crossbows and longbows, but seemed to be unconcerned, and my side was taking causalities. I'd seen Isabella go down earlier, part of her hair seared away. She now lay very still not far from us. I prayed that she would be all right, and also that Anders' talents extended to regrowing hair or I might need to go into hiding for a fortnight or two. I could see bodies of some of the hired men as well, and wondered if I would be making condolence calls to their families—if any of us lived through this, that is.
It was Merrill who turned the tables, as much by distracting the magister as anything. Impulsive as ever, she ran towards him and sliced her arm, releasing her blood magic. Common in the Imperium as this practice was, it was apparently not something Danarius expected to see in Kirkwall. He hesitated for an instance and that was enough for Anders. The Tevinter mage was thrown back and it was a commonplace marble plinth that ended it. His head hit with a resounding crack and he went limp.
As Anders stepped forward, Fenris growled to him, "Leave nothing. He must be utterly destroyed or he will find a way back."
The tall blond mage looked cooly at the elf, his mouth turning up sardonically, and proceeded to do what Fenris could never accomplish. He was beautiful there in the soft dawn, the lone mage, as he held out that hand that could heal and dealt not only death, but oblivion. Danarius body started to smoke, a small tendril rising from the area near his navel. Despite the head injury, the pain woke him, but it was too late. There was a flash of light so bright it left after images in my eyes, and the sound of an explosion. When I could see again, there was only a burned patch and a bit of melted marble where the Tevinter had lain. I heard a great sigh behind me as Fenris realized that this time his nightmare was truly ended.
Anders drifted over to us and looked down, his head to the side, his expression one of considered amusement. At that moment I would have given half my wealth for the ability to cover myself, but the cloaks were several feet away and without the use of my hands I was helpless. Fenris was sheltering behind me, the coward.
"You're looking well, Hawke," he said, and if my hands had been free I would have hit him… hard. Varric came ambling up, looked around the pillar and broke out laughing. Of course it was infectious, and Anders joined in.
I could hear others wondering what was so funny and I snarled at the mage in my most threatening tone, "If you can release us do. If not, at least have the decency to through those cloaks over us, damn it!"
He waved a hand and the silver rope slithered to the ground, however my hands and arms were so numb that they were useless. It was Varric who was kind enough to grab up the cloaks and throw them over us as Merrill and the hired mages rounded our pillar.
Snuggling within my blessed cover, I looked up at Varric and said, "Your work, I assume?"
He preened, then tried for an expression of humility, which did not work. "Of course," he replied, you don't think Blondie planned all this, did you?" Anders gave him a wounded look as he continued to explain—once Varric was asked to talk, it usually took a while to get back to blessed silence.
"Actually, it was Anders who gave me some of the clues." To my surprise, he turned to the mage.
"I've studied the various schools of magic, including what I could find of the Imperium," the tall blond explained. "They have some very specific and very powerful techniques, as you saw tonight. None of these were employed in the Hanged Man. A magister would not allow himself to be defeated so easily. In some cases, the casting was clumsy and there were, it is hard to describe, but hints of the Circle about our adversary."
I looked up at him and demanded, "You did not think to mention any of this to me?"
He shook his head, saying, "I really didn't think of it until Varric suggested that we follow you. Everyone was so happy that the fight was over and Fenris free, then with the celebration afterwards, it just didn't come to my conscious attention."
"So, you've been here all night?" I asked the dwarf.
He shrugged and said, "I had nowhere else to go."
"And if nothing had happened, if we'd simply stayed in the mansion, what would you have done?" I was honestly curious how long he would have waited.
He smiled that wide dwarven smile and replied, "I would have left Blondie here on watch, with a carrier pigeon. He would have enjoyed fantasying about what was going on behind those stout doors more than any of the rest of us."
It was as close as I've ever seen Anders to hitting someone not in the course of battle. There was pain behind his anger and I was sorry to see it. Was I doomed to always hurt those I cared for? I mentally grabbed ahold of myself before I went further down that path—I blamed myself for the death of my mother and siblings and the raw spot that guilt left was still tender.
The feeling was coming back to my limbs and, careful to keep the cloak about me, I rose to my feet, hugging and thanking my rescuers. I asked Anders about Isabella and the others and he assured me they would all be fine in time.
Varric called out, "Come on, everyone home, there are still fireworks to be made, but we're not invited, I suspect."
The look Fenris shot him was positively venomous and I instinctively held out a restraining hand. He laughed bitterly as he took the hand in his. "I am not so far gone that I would attack our savior," he said. "At least not as within the next three minutes. After that, I will not be responsible."
Varric could take a cue as well as the finest of actors. He bowed gallantly and herded his charges away, but as they left he couldn't resist looking over his shoulder and giving Fenris a broad wink.
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Savage Impulses