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Please Don't Look At Me	By : NekoMalik Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3397 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age, this is a fan-made work, not for profit

Chapter List
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Fenris was far from happy. He’d been enjoying a quiet drink with Varric in their usual haunt, the Hanged Man, when that idiot Anders had come barging in babbling incessantly about the Chantry boy having been kidnapped and that it was all his fault. He hadn’t really listened, but had followed anyway, more due to Hawke’s insistence than the mage’s begging. He was also marginally worried about Sebastian; despite his outward demeanour towards him, he was really quite fond of the man. Fortunately, the former prince was a fairly adept fighter and survivalist, so it made sense that he would be alright, Fenris hoped.
The group, Hawke, Varric, Anders and himself, had somehow managed to secret themselves into the dungeons of a large estate on the exterior of Kirkwall without detection, which was fortunate as the owner of said estate apparently had rather a large selection of bodyguards and henchmen to call upon. He was an unpleasant man, who had his pudgy fingers in most of the vile happenings around the city, and he almost certainly ran all of the major crime syndicates. Unfortunately, he was also extremely wealthy, and in this place that meant you were above the law. He went by the name of Solomon Gaenel, though it was widely accepted that this was not his given name, though it was a name that Fenris was sure he’d come across before somewhere.
He’d learnt earlier on in the day that Aveline had been watching the place for months now, waiting for the man to slip up, to give her something she could use to bring him down. Finally, the chance had come, but not in the way any of them had expected.
A guard she’d secretly posted to watch the place had come racing back to inform her that a group of men had been seen carrying an unconscious figure wearing distinctive white armour into the grounds from the river, and while he couldn’t be completely sure as he’d never met the man, he thought that it could very well be the young prince currently serving at the Chantry. She’d quickly sent for Hawke, who’d confirmed that Sebastian hadn’t returned from his earlier errand, a somewhat sheepish and worried-looking Anders in tow.
So here they were, searching the rather extensive underground dungeons for any sign of their absent companion, unsure as to whether he would even be there. They had split up almost as soon as they had entered the building, so as to cover more ground and minimise their chances for detection unless absolutely necessary. They needed to be in and out of this place as quickly and quietly as possible, else it would be the death of all of them.
Fenris made his way down the dimly lit corridor, glancing into each of the rooms lining both walls as he passed. Three or four rooms in he couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust; there was the distinct, heady scent of sex in the air with an unpleasant undertone of blood, it seemed to permeate the rooms from the very walls themselves, stronger in some places than others, he supposed due to age. He really didn’t want to know what they did down here, but it didn’t look like they bothered to clean up after themselves judging from the marks on the walls and floors of most of the rooms he surveyed.
Two cells were seemingly occupied; one by a young man, barely old enough to be considered a man, and the other by two elf girls. All three were shackled to the walls of their respective cages and had been badly beaten judging from the marks covering their slender bodies and the amount of blood coating the floor. He’d managed to break into the first room without incident, but it was clear as soon as he drew close that the boy was dead. The second room proved a little more difficult, as the bolt seemed to have stuck into place. Finally, with some force, he got it to slide back with a loud clang. Fenris waited silently for what seemed like an age to see if anyone had heard his actions before slipping silently into the room. The first girl in the room was clearly dead; her throat had been slit. He didn’t bother looking any closer, knowing that he would not like what he found. Instead, he moved over to the second prisoner, who seemed to be in slightly better shape. As he drew close to her he could see the slight rise and fall of her chest as she struggled for air, the markings that marred her body second only to the painful jutting of bones against skin. He didn’t suppose they bothered to feed their prisoners.
Fenris reached out to touch the girl’s gaunt shoulder, not wishing to startle her and cause any more harm to her already frail body. Her long eyelids seemed to flutter momentarily at the contact, hidden mostly by a mane of unkempt golden hair, matted with blood, which he supposed must have been beautiful at one point. Her body seemed to sink into itself as she breathed once, twice more, and was gone. Fenris let his hand drop, a stricken look crossing his face. He had been so close to saving this poor girl, both of them really, and he had failed. He knew, deep down, that it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have known, but the guilt still tore at his insides as he strode away from the body and out of the dark room. He sincerely hoped that Sebastian hadn’t been brought to this place, even one such as he wouldn’t stand a chance against this level of evil.
The thought had barely had time to surface in Fenris’ head before a loud crash drew his attention, followed by a distant explosion and the smell of scorching flesh. There was only one person who could make that sort of racket on a stealth mission; either Anders had found something worth making a noise about, or something had found Anders. Increasing his pace, Fenris changed direction to head towards the noise, continuing to take the time to check each room as he passed for fear of missing something vital. No more bodies presented themselves, however one cell did contain a single, terrified boy, chained to the wall in the same fashion as the others. He hadn’t been touched, fortunately, though they had divested him of his clothes in preparation. Fenris quickly freed him and sent him on his way, with clear instructions on how to escape without getting caught and a short dagger to defend himself if necessary. He’d told the boy to head to the barracks and ask for Aveline, that he’d be safe with her. Fenris hoped he was right as the little red-head ran out of sight.
Rounding the corner, sword poised, the white-haired elf was met with the sight of what he assumed to be human corpses, but it was hard to tell. There was a lot of blood, and several in-tact body parts, but nothing that could really be used for identification purposes. From the various arms and legs he could see from where he stood, there looked to be six, maybe seven bodies strewn about. The remains of their clothing indicated that they were Gaenel’s men, given away by the crests that seemed to adorn every remaining scrap of fabric; the man certainly did seem to think a lot of himself. A single, plain white mask lay close to his feet, blood spatter marking its otherwise perfect porcelain surface.
The door to one of the cells directly ahead of him was wide open, and Fenris was sure he could hear quiet voices from within. Eyes narrowed and weapon still poised for attack, he made his way cautiously past the carnage, his feet making an unpleasant squelching sound as he stepped through Maker-knows-what. Fenris really wished he wore boots.
“...Please don’t look at me...please...” the pitiful, broken and painfully familiar voice barely carried across the expanse of stone to where Fenris was standing, observing the two darkened figures in the room as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom and decided on his next plan of action.
“I won’t. I won’t look, I promise.” Came the response from Anders, his body visibly shaking as he gently cradled the quietly sobbing man in his arms. Even from where he stood, Fenris could see the barely suppressed anger surging through the mage’s veins. Fenris had seen enough in the few rooms he’d investigated to know that Anders’ fury was clearly justified, and that the men he had stepped through in the hallway outside had reached a much kinder end than he would have given them had he reached them first.
The elf stepped silently out into the hallway once again, not wishing to leave his two companions but knowing that he needed to find something to cover Sebastian with, to preserve what remained of his dignity if nothing else. He knew that the brunette would be safe as long as Anders remained with him, and that there was no way the mage was going to leave his side until he had been safely removed from this vile place.
The first few rooms Fenris checked contained nothing of any use; he’d stopped looking into the cells, paying attention only to those doors without viewing holes as those seemed to be all storage facility and the odd guard room, all empty. Anders must have dispatched everyone from that particular section, as not a single guard impeded his progress.
Finally Fenris came across something useful; a small room that seemed to have been used as a bedroom quite recently. Rummaging through the single chest in the room, he found a selection of clothing obviously designed for a very large, very tall man. He spent no time in picking out a pair of oversized trousers and simple tunic top; he was unsure as to just how badly Sebastian had been tortured, so could not afford to spend too much time here, but likewise he needed items that would not exacerbate his already extensive injuries. Grabbing one final item, a cord belt to hold up the trousers, he made his way swiftly back to the prison cell.
“Sebastian, I’m so sorry, I should never have left you on your own.” Anders was practically sobbing as he cleaned up the abused and unconscious man in his arms. Fenris could see that he’d removed parts of his own clothing to cover Sebastian’s modesty, while other sections had been torn into strips to dress the worst of the wounds. A small pile of rags lay to one side, soaked with blood and...Fenris didn’t want to think what else.
“Here.” The elf finally made his presence known, stepping silently over to the distraught mage and placing the bundle of stolen clothing on a clean patch of stone. “Help me to dress him.” He chose not to make eye contact, seeing the tear tracks that were still multiplying on Anders cheekbones.
“His legs are broken, I can’t heal them here. Let me do what I can for him and then we’ll move him.” Fenris just nodded; the mage finally seemed to be reigning in his shifting emotions upon seeing the elf, grounding himself so that he could focus on the situation. Still holding Sebastian’s prone body possessively with one arm, Anders began the process of casting several quick healing spells, though he wasn’t sure how much good they would do. He was still visibly trembling, slowing the process somewhat. In an uncharacteristic move, Fenris moved to grip Anders’ wrist, holding it steady. He felt the mage’s eyes shoot to his face but did not break his gaze from the unconscious prince.
“Just focus, we need to leave. Now.” His tone was low and urgent, but not the usual snappy one he reserved especially for mages. Anders simply nodded, saying nothing as he finished what he was doing before pulling his hand away somewhat reluctantly and taking the giant-sized trousers from the top of the pile. Between the two of them they managed to dress Sebastian without jarring his injuries too much, though it had taken longer than they had hoped.
Gathering Sebastian’s limp form up in his arms, Anders glanced at Fenris as they moved as one towards the exit. The elf still refused to make eye-contact, though the mage could see the same furious anger mirrored in Fenris’ olive green eyes that he knew would be present in his own. He barely caught the vicious snarl that crossed the elegant face in front of him before Fenris turned, sword unsheathed, and sliced straight through the large wooden table-like structure behind them, an animalistic growl ripping its way from his throat. Bringing his sword down again, harder this time, the two halves of the table ruptured, spraying fragments of wood at the back wall, completely destroying the custom-made torture device.
“Come on.” Anders spoke softly, more to Sebastian than to Fenris, as he finally carried his injured charge over the threshold and away from the room that had done more damage than any of the three had yet realised.
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Please Don't Look At Me