Chapter Text
The air was stale. Old. The bowels of Kirkwall that Hawke had opened and bared for the first time in an age.
"Maker! What died down here?" Anders asked.
Fenris bit back the annoyed huff but did not hide the glare he shot at the idiotic mage. The glare that was doubly returned.
Hawke stepped between them but was entirely uninterested in any underhanded bickering. "All right, we know the drill; be on the lookout for giant spiders, rampaging dragons, demons and, everyone's favorite, blood mages." Hawke pointed one dagger to the left. "Isabela and I take that way. Anders, you and Broody take the other hall."
Fenris ground his teeth. He really wished that nickname had not caught on.
"Why do I have to go with the cranky elf?" Anders complained. "He will probably kill me and try to blame it on the sodding blood mages!"
"It's a little hard to blame missing vital organs on anyone other than Fenris," Isabela said. "Unless he has been giving lessons; if he has I sure hope someone else decides to use the gift in more interesting ways. You could make a lot of money with a talent like that."
"I doubt any whore would wish for pure lyrium to be seared into their flesh," Fenris said and scowled at her.
"Oh yes, I forgot all about the blinding horror and pain... Bother."
"Come on," Hawke said. "We've got treas-- Uhhh, I mean, we've got blood mages to catch." She grinned and punched Isabela in the shoulder before darting away. Isabela smiled and followed and Fenris had the sneaking suspicion that if they did find any demons, they would barely be a distraction to some more intimate pleasures the two women would indulge in together.
Anders sighed. "Stuck with Fenris... Great..."
"Let us finish this quickly so that I do not have to stand your presence for longer than necessary," Fenris said. He purposely knocked the mage in the arm as he passed by him. There was no real reason other than to see the annoyed pout the abomination gave in response.
Begrudgingly, Fenris had to appreciate that the mage did still follow him down into the darkened hall. The Lowtown abode had been abandoned since the collapse of the floor into the tunnels below and the disappearance of the original tenants. That alone may have not been that strange an occurrence for Kirkwall, but some rather gruesome tales of screaming corpses savaging a street harlot and scattered remains of humans and animals alike left at the entranceway was enough to catch Hawke's attention. Whether it be blood mages or demonic presence, Fenris did not relish the thought of traversing the passages alone. The mage did have uses.
Though so did Hawke's Mabari hound.
Fenris felt the ethereal tug of the air around him and a ball of light surrounded the mage's staff. The briefest of light flickered through his lyrium brands in answer and Fenris hissed a breath through his teeth.
The passageways were mostly empty, carved out of solid stone below the streets of Kirkwall. Some paths branched away but Anders led them forward, down, until the air turned damp and cold and phosphorescent lichen glowed on the dank walls.
"I do not like that we have ventured this far from Hawke."
"Trust me, Hawke is fine. If anything, I would be a little more concerned for myself right about now." Anders stopped. He raised his staff and the light shone down the hall. "This place has a foul aura."
"I feel nothing."
"No... You wouldn't."
Fenris knew that Anders could not see his expression in the dim light, but it did nothing to prevent his scowl. He knew this was a magic thing. It always was.
"We should return to Hawke."
"So she can hold your hand? Scared of the dark, Fenris?" the mage cooed and Fenris bit his tongue to hold back the snap. He had promised Hawke that they would not make life 'unbearable' for her or force her to choose which of her two favorite men she would bring on her adventures. He had promised and Fenris intended to keep his promise to Hawke.
The mage seemed to have no such issue. Anders laughed and continued his prattle and then plunged the hall into darkness, only the barest glow outlining his shape and the walls the lichen clung to stubbornly.
"Do you want to hold my hand?" Anders asked.
"Do not test me, Mage." Fenris heard the mage move, saw his faint outline up ahead and Fenris adamantly refused to light his brands. He listened to the crunch of the mage's boots on the stone floor and followed. And to his credit Anders did not reform his magelight, reveling in his joke. Fenris had to wonder whether the demon possessing the mage ensured his safety even in situations such as these - would it be possible for a creature or demon to sneak up on them without their knowledge?
"...huh."
Fenris almost slammed right into Anders' back when the mage came to a halt in front of a large door.
"Not half ominous, is it?" Anders asked. "Though for once we might get the good loot before Hawke and Isabela get their greedy hands on it!"
"I have no interest in such things."
"You just come and put your life in danger because Hawke asks, then. Maker knows you don't spend any of your share on your home. Have you given names to the skeletons, yet? Bonesy? Captain Cartilage?"
"I called one Anders and disposed of it in the sewers, where it belongs."
"Oh-ho! Did the broody elf just make a joke? Say my name again. A little lower, maybe against my ear. You do have the most wonderfully sinful voice for being such a horrible pain."
Fenris chose to ignore that. As he chose to ignore most of what spouted from the abomination's mouth. "Is the door trapped?"
"What do I look like? A rogue? This here is called a staff. I believe you are familiar with my horrible apostate mage ways. You complain about it enough."
"Not nearly as often as yourself." Fenris flared luminescent and light flooded the hall. The door stood tall before them, made of dark wood with large brass handles. The wood was plain; no runes, no markings, just heavy wood.
"I can't feel any wards." Anders held his staff forward and Fenris braced himself. The magic swirled to life and whispered through the wood of the door, curled around the brass fittings and then dissipated.
"Perhaps whatever spells were designed to protect this place have crumbled...along with what remains of the building."
"Well there's nothing I can find. Bar pointy arrows and sharp spikes, we should be fine." Anders pushed the door and then frowned when it didn't budge.
"Get out of the way, Mage." Fenris shoved him aside and pushed the doors open. There were no pointy arrows, nor were there any sharp spikes, just an old dusty room full of junk. But they still watched their step entering, looking for trip wires or pressure pads that would set off a nasty surprise - neither of them was foolhardy enough just to barge straight into the room.
"I guess even blood mages need storage..." Anders walked between two shelves and the light brightened around him. It was enough to light up most of the room, at least the parts they could see around them. The high ceiling remained in darkness.
It really was just junk. Hawke would love it. She was always poking through old chests and sacks to find what anyone else would describe as junk. Fenris picked up a small statuette and turned it over in his hands. With enough time and patience and the right connections some of this trash could be worth something, but who would bother?
"Some of these books have been outlawed by the Chantry for longer than Kirkwall has been independent!" Anders yelled from behind the bookcase.
Fenris huffed but otherwise didn't reply. Of course the abomination would be able to read Tevene. How apt for someone so corrupt. Anders truly would fit in with the Magisters in Tevinter; except he would likely die within the week.
There was little down here of value, certainly not enough worth staying for. Fenris frowned at one of the statues - Tevinter in origin. He had seen a similar one before, larger, protecting the home of a Magister. It had done the man little good as his manor burnt to the ground. Fenris pushed aside some more junk and it was clear the items here had been brought from Tevinter a very long time ago, most likely while Kirkwall was still run as a slave mine by the Magisters. The further he dug, the stronger the unsettled feeling in his stomach grew - there was the usual rubbish down here but further back he began finding the obvious signs of magic use. Blood magic. A knife, surgical instruments not unlike those he had seen in Danarius' own home, jars and glass bottles, discarded lyrium vials, and then the old but telltale smears of blood that had stained the floor an age ago.
Fenris stepped back and turned abruptly, one hand over his stomach. He did not need this. Not now. This whole room reeked of Magisters, foul magic, slavery and torture. Fenris could taste the blood in his mouth as though it were fresh.
"Fenris?"
Fenris looked up and saw Anders staring at him. The mage's head was cocked to the side, some of his hair falling across his face and Fenris wished that Anders did not look quite so...concerned.
"I am fine," Fenris said. "I came across something...unpleasant. We should leave."
"Not so fast. I came to tell you that I think I found something. Guess you already figured out what this room was used for. The bone pile on my side of the room certainly confirms any suspicions." Anders held up a book. "Some Magister's deluded dream of bringing back the dead. Hawke isn't going to like this one."
Fenris frowned and looked at his feet. No, Hawke would not like to hear this. "We should keep this to ourselves. Hawke is a good woman...she need not be reminded of her Mother's death so quickly."
"Agreed. Frankly, it's a little too soon for me. You're lucky you weren't there, Fenris. With that... That, thing. It still haunts my dreams."
For once, they could agree on something. Fenris nodded and looked towards the door. "Hawke will not come after us for some time. We should remove all evidence of this crime."
"Generic blood mage sacrificial chamber coming right up. I would torch the whole room but it would be a tad obvious. Plus it would be a shame to lose some of these books. I could use several for my clinic."
"You wish to practice blood magic after all. I am not surprised."
Anders frowned. "No. You and I do share the same opinion about one thing and that's blood magic. These are anatomy books, Fenris, you ass. I can help my patients without even using magic."
Fenris paused. Oh. He looked at Anders. The mage was glaring at him and he dared to look...what, hurt? Fenris didn't recognize the emotion in Anders' eyes. Fenris cleared his throat. "I misunderstood."
"Yes, you did." Anders spun on his heel and walked back to the shelves.
They worked in silence for the most part. Fenris could feel the pull of magic as Anders burnt some of the books and notes and the glow of the small fire warmed the room. Hawke would not question a small fire; she would assume they had run into trouble and nothing more. Fenris did not feel bad for lying to her. Knowing would do her no service. There was no knowledge to be lost by burning this information to ashes.
"Hey, Fenris. Have you ever heard of a story about Fen'Harel and a virgin?"
Fenris didn't look up. "You waste time, Mage."
"No, no. It's in one of the books. At the start here."
"You are meant to be burning them, not reading them."
"I am not going to pointlessly burn every book without knowing what’s inside. Haven't you ever heard of the saying 'don't judge a book by its cover'?"
Fenris looked over his shoulder and sighed. "No, I have not heard of the tale."
"Guess you don't know many Dalish stories. Seems strange that a book by a Tevinter blood mage would have an elvhen fairy tale at the start. But I'm guessing it might have been a bit of inspiration for our dear, dear psychopath. The story goes that an elven girl was promised to her betrothed. He went to hunt and never returned. Fen'Harel had watched the girl and longed for her but she had only eyes for her love. So he took the form of her missing love and raped and killed her in a fit of jealousy."
"I do not see how this is of any relevance."
"Wait, would you? Maker! The elven man returned to find his love dead. Fen'Harel was so jealous that the girl had loved the man even in her last moments that he devised to ruin the man. Fen'Harel came to him and told him that he could bring his love back to the living world if he completed three tasks."
Fenris paused. He did know this tale. It had been told to him long ago. By whom...? He couldn't remember when, or where, but he remembered the tasks. "He was to bring Fen'Harel the hearts of an innocent babe, a maiden untouched by another and a man blinded by love."
"So you have heard it!"
"Yes...but I do not remember where." Fenris turned and leant back against the table. He folded his arms but unfolded them just as soon. His nose tickled from the dust and his skin felt itchy. He was sweating in the warm room, his clothes sticking to his dirty skin. Fenris could feel the trickle of sweat run down the back of his neck and below his collar.
"So the man does as the Dread Wolf asks. He steals a child and murders it deep in the forest and cuts out its heart. He still hears the crying in his sleep for many nights afterwards. It takes months but he lures a maiden from her clan and butchers her, even though she reminds him of his lost love. But he cannot bring himself to kill his friend who is so deeply in love, for he sees himself. He returns to Fen'Harel without the third heart. And he says--"
"'Take my heart, for I am blinded by love. I shall give my life so that she may live once more.'" Fenris felt his legs tremble. The effort of holding himself up suddenly felt too great, as though the energy had been sapped out of him. His cheeks felt flushed, his head a whirling fog. He wrapped his arms around himself despite the heat, trying to ease his trembling. He must be coming down with a sickness, perhaps? Or some foul magic in the air had tainted him? Or...
"Oh, Fenris, so you are a romantic at heart. I just knew it. I bet you read Hard in Hightown for the plot."
A spike of warmth shot through Fenris and filled him, settling low in his body. "I do... I do not read, Mage." Fenris could barely grumble out the words, his voice as shaky as his body. His skin flushed from feet to face and he realized that his body was responding to whatever stimuli had him so hazed. Fenris had to move his hands to cover his crotch as he felt the embarrassing burgeoning of an erection. A demon, perhaps. A lust demon. It had to be. Had to! Though the damn mage seemed unfazed. But there was simply no other cause that would have him acting like this, seduced by the sound of an abomination telling him a tale.
Anders ignored him. He had turned, holding the book in his hand as if reading a sermon. "Fen'Harel wants to see the man suffer. He says he cannot help and the man must complete the task himself. He must cut out his own heart. But he says he will let the man glimpse at his love, says that her spirit is still waiting for him because she loves him so much. And the man sees her, like a ghost, and she whispers--"
Fenris did not hear the words. The realization hit him full force and he tried to croak out a protest, tried to stop the foolish mage from talking. He slumped forward as the wave of pleasure rushed through him, surging forward, blinding. His body tingled and warmed in a way only orgasm could bring. Fenris fell to his knees in the dirt and sobbed out a horrified cry as the warmth spread over his groin. He could see Danarius over him, Danarius petting his hair, telling him how good he had been, telling him that he was lucky to have a Master that was so kind. Fenris felt a rug, not dirt, under his knees and a hand on his naked back. He pulled at his hair, wishing he could stop himself from smiling. And when he looked up it was Anders, not Danarius, who was smiling back.