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Memory of Death	By : TomaHawke Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 1771 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, Bioware does. I make no money from writing this fiction.

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Hawke stood at attention as the prospective buyer inspected him, sneering at his whip markings. It had been months since he had adopted Fenlen as his own, almost a year since he was enslaved, and now he was far too scarred to be of much value any longer, even if he was a virgin.
Every time Fenlen was about to be bought, the boy would hurt the customer or piss them off terribly, warding them off making the purchase. And every time a customer was scared off by Fenlen, he had to be punished, and since the human with the sun-kissed skin was protecting the elf child, Toma was the one to receive the lashings. It was a never-ending circle, but at least they had each other.
The ex-mage was becoming hardened by his new life; he hardly laughed or smiled anymore, saving his softer expressions and words for his child, Fenlen. Every time he looked into the elf’s cherubic face and pet his fine, white hair he was reminded of his past lover.
Suddenly there was a screech of pain that Toma recognized as Fenlen’s. He shifted uneasily, unable to move from where he was tethered with chains. It wouldn’t be the first time a customer tried to punish his son for some misdeed, but the head slaver, Doric, usually stopped them before they got too out of hand. It was bad business to let others discipline your slaves.
He heard a slightly familiar voice shouting expletives at Doric, but the human slave couldn’t quite place where he had heard it before. Then he saw Fenlen running towards him from the children’s slave block, and he opened his arms as well as he could, bound as he was, to receive the boy. He was slightly unbalanced as his son plowed into him, but the man held his ground.
“What’s wrong, pup?” he asked gently, it was a relief that the customer that had been inspecting Hawke earlier had left already.
“I’m sorry, Papa,” the child apologized. “This man is really angry, and I think he’s someone important. He wants to ‘put me down.’ What does that mean, Papa? Does it hurt a lot?”
“Shh. Everything will be alright, sweetling,” Toma comforted the little elf, petting his fair hair. “Papa will fix things.”
He looked up and spotted Doric, beside him was an old man who carried himself as someone of great weight in society. The man squinted his golden eyes a little, and as they came closer the grey-bearded mage’s features became clearer. And suddenly it hit him. Danarius. The man his son had supremely pissed off was the Magister Danarius, the one who had taken his lover from him.
Then his eyes found a slightly shorter male with fair hair and skin wearing familiar armour and trailing slightly behind the two humans. Lyrium burns marking what skin was visible, made Toma shake his head in disbelief.
“It couldn’t be… but there is no one else who could possibly…” the ex-mage whispered under his breath.
“Papa?”
“Fenlen,” said the elvhen boy’s father. “You remember all those stories I told you? The ones about your namesake?” The child nodded. “Look at the elf standing next to the angry man. Do you see him?”
“Papa!” Fenlen exclaimed excitedly. “*Na lath!”
“I’m not hallucinating,” Hawke shook his head again.
Before he knew it the trio was standing before him, and Doric was speaking, “Magister, this is number 486. He’s the boy’s protector, so any punishment is to be dealt to him.”
“I don’t want some substitute! I want this heathen hanged! Is that so hard to understand?!” Danarius spat.
“You shall have to kill me first then. I will not allow any harm to come to my child, so long as I still draw breath,” Hawke hissed at the elder human.
“Why you filthy…” the mage trailed off, his eyes sparking in recognition. “I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”
Hawke was still and silent like a statue, a guardian lion with a babe cradled between its massive paws.
“Ah, I remember now. I thought you had died, but I see you’ve been sold like so much worthless junk at a corner store in Lowtown. How does it feel to be lower than everyone else? Less valuable than even a beast, hm? I’m quite curious, you know,” the Magister grinned in sick amusement. “Do you remember this man, my Pet?” he asked Fenris.
“Fenris. Love.” Toma held his breath in anticipation, their eyes met, and for a moment their souls connected. But the human slave’s heart was crushed when he heard the elf’s reply.
“No, Master. He is a stranger to me.” Fenris looked away in shame at the pitiful expression that clouded the blond man’s face.
“Of course not. He tried to keep you from returning to me, and do you see where he ended up?”
“Why can’t you remember my Papa? He said you loved him! Papa told me that love defies everything! That’s why he protects me from being whipped, and I bite people that want to buy me. We love each other, and we’ll be together forever!” Fenlen exclaimed. “So you’d better remember Papa because he loves you!”
Danarius clapped mockingly. “Beautiful speech. It brought a tear to my eye,” he said sarcastically. “And that brings us back to my demand.”
“I told you already. Laws are laws. The boy is being protected, and you can only put one of them to death, not both,” Doric explained for what he felt was the millionth time.
“Then how about this?” the old man smirked deviously. “I happen to know for a fact that this man is a mage, a hedge mage to be exact. By law you have to turn him in to the Templars. Once he is within the Circle, he can no longer protect the boy, and you can put him to death, as I wish.”
“No!” the golden-eyed man cried out desperately, falling to his knees in supplication. “Please! I beg of you! I care not what happens to me, but please, please don’t hurt my son. I will do anything! Anything you ask of me! Just please…”
“Summon a demon and use it to kill one of the people here in this marketplace, and I will give you my word that no harm will come to the child,” Danarius ordered him.
“But I…”
“Do it or I’ll see to it the boy dies in a most painful way.”
The human slave looked at his once-lover pleadingly, before closing his eyes in resignation. “Y-yes. I will do what you say, but only if you swear on your life that no harm will come to Fenlen. You will buy him from Master Doric, and give him a place as a servant in your house, under Fenris’s direct jurisdiction.”
“Yes, yes. No harm, servant in my house, bargain struck.”
“Magister, what are you doing? This is madness!” the head slaver exclaimed.
“Silence! You will not interfere!” Danarius barked.
Hawke turned to his son and looked him straight in the eyes. “Fenlen, please be good. Keep your head down; that means no biting or kicking.”
“But I don’t want to leave you! I thought we were going to stay together forever! You said so!” the elvhen child burst into tears.
“Listen to me, sweetling. You will have a good life in the Magister’s home. Fenris will watch over you,” he said gently. “Don’t worry about Papa; I’ll be just fine, ok? Smile for me, darling. You know how I love your smiles. That’s my pup.” Toma grinned as Fenlen’s lips twitched into a shaky smile. He looked straight at Fenris, “Please watch over him, **emma sa’lath. I know that you will not fail me as I have failed you.”
He pushed his son over to the older elf, and Fenlen clung to his father’s lover’s hand desperately. Weeping crystal tears, he buried his face in Fenris’s hip. The elder of the two patted the child’s head awkwardly, unsure of just how to handle the situation.
Hawke bit into his forearm, tearing away the flesh with his teeth. He golden eyes turned orange, clashing with the red of the demon. Blood splattered on his face making him all the more ominous. He broke the chains binding him and roared inhumanly.
Danarius laughed madly. “This is much better than I expected! Go on, Hawke! Kill! Murder! Shed the blood of the innocents!”
The once beautiful human was now a hulking monster with scaly skin and glowing eyes, but something about it wasn’t quite right. The transformation didn’t look entirely complete, and he wasn’t going on a rampage like most mad blood mages. In fact, it was looking directly at Fenris with a strange expression on its face.
“F-forgive me, Fen…” it said in a garbled, distorted voice.
“What are you doing? We had a bargain, Hawke. Kill someone!” screeched the Magister.
“You said I must kill someone in this marketplace, but you didn’t mention anyone I couldn’t kill…”
It rushed forward before Danarius could realize what it meant, and slay the monster in a man’s body right where he stood. Then, a large squad of templars pushed through the panicked crowd, readying their weapons to strike.
“Take my son and run,” it growled at the elf. “You are free now, Fenris, and I won’t let some limp-dick templars take me. I’ll find you again. I want your blade to be the one that ends my existence.”
“Hawke…” the green-eyed elf hesitated.
“Papa!” Fenlen screamed as a sword pierced the demon’s thigh.
“Go!” it roared, sweeping the templar away with its arm.
Fenris scooped the child into his arms and ran as fast as he could. Making his way out of the city and into the forest, but still he didn’t stop. Not until his muscles could no longer move, and his breath was filling his lungs in great gasps did he finally slow and eventually stop. He leaned against a wide oak and slowly slid down its trunk. Fenlen was crying again, his tears soaking the elder elf’s clothing. They curled up in the tree’s gnarled old roots and fell into fitful slumber, nightmares of demons and blood and death plaguing their sleep.
o0O.O0o
*Na lath – your love
**Emma sa’lath – my one love
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Memory of Death