Teardrop on the fire,
Fearless on my breath

Teardrop

Cool air nipped at his exposed skin, leaves dancing across the soft breeze in a bewitching pattern. They wove gracefully through the rain that marked the typical autumn of Kirkwall. A large droplet of water landed on his cheek, and Fenris couldn't suppress the shiver that crept up his spine as he wiped it away, only to have it quickly replaced by the rain sprinkling lightly from the clouds that drifted above. The darkness caused by the overcast sky left everything in shadow—the deep red of the roses now absent of all color, leaving them entirely black.

The mansion loomed above him in the darkness: distinctly ominous amongst a dozen unassuming copies. His own mansion seemed cozy in comparison; though he knew it was due in part to his imagination. Nothing truly dangerous lay beyond the door before him. His distrust of mages should not extend to Hawke as it did.

With a heavy sigh he opened the front door, stepping into the entrance hall. His footfalls were silent against the stone floor, each step taken deliberately and with a great deal of care. He knew he should have knocked, but it was getting late and—though he knew the woman he sought was at the Hanged Man with Merrill and Isabela—he was fairly certain it wasn't terribly inconvenient for him to wait for her. His gaze fell on the gong by the doorway to the main hall, locating the mallet to ensure he wouldn't trip over it.

Entering the main hall, he looked to the fireplace, still burning strong. When his gaze turned upward to the balcony, he saw a light flicker in the frame of Hawke's bedchamber, the door cracked only slightly. A shadow passed back and forth occasionally, and the elf's eyebrow lifted in confused curiosity at who it could be. Surely Hawke couldn't have returned so soon after he had learned her location?

The door to the bedchamber flew open, revealing the broad frame of a man. The glow being cast behind him left him in silhouette, but there was no doubt to his identity. Anders stepped forward and approached the balcony, resting his hands on the railing as he stared straight ahead, seemingly unaware of the other presence in the main hall. His hair was loose from its usual ponytail, the wheat colored hair framing his face mussed from running his hands through it.

"What are you doing here?" he said after a few moments, looking down to glare at Fenris. It was a fiercely cool gaze that would frighten most, but not him. He simply narrowed his eyes into slits as he met the mage's intent stare.

"That is none of your concern, mage." Fenris' voice dripped disdain, his lips drawn back in a sneer.

"After what you put her through, Prentiss came to me. This is every bit my concern." Anders descended the staircase, leaning against the doorjamb of the library's entrance, wisely keeping his distance. "You have some nerve, coming here. I should smite you where you stand."

"I don't recommend you attempt it. I would cut you down before you could cast a single spell."

"And how would manage that without your weapon, I wonder?" He pushed away from the doorjamb, the look in his eyes contemplative as he approached the elf. Fenris took on a defensive stance; prepared to take whatever action he could against the mage. It was only poor judgment on his part that he had left his sword at home. "I can't imagine our leader would appreciate it, in any case."

Fenris snarled, growing increasingly impatient with Anders' snarky attitude. "You are trying your luck. I have no need for your sarcasm."

"Then let me bring some sincerity into this lovely chat," he bit out, his golden eyes burning. It was a blind hatred that Fenris knew well, and wasn't surprised to see from the man standing before him. It was only revolting that it was something they shared. "You were an idiot to leave Prentiss."

"And you were fast enough to replace me." His markings began to glow faintly as his anger grew. He resisted the urge to rush forward and dispatch the mage that instigated him, even as Fenris became more threatening. He clenched and unclenched his fists, a practiced method of control that seemed to work best for him.

Anders moved even closer, a mere arm's length from Fenris. He crossed his arms over his chest, less of a defensive gesture than it was mocking. "I love her. You have no idea what that means."

"Do not bear your heart to me, mage," the elf growled, his markings now a vibrant sheen shimmering on his tan skin, "unless you would have me rip it out."

"I would love to see you try." Anders narrowed his eyes, daring Fenris. He took another step forward, closing the gap between them until they were hand's breadth apart.

It was a foolish decision.

A wave of energy burst from Fenris as he thrust his hand forward, phasing it through the chest of the man before him to grip his heart. He could feel its struggle to beat against the fingers that clenched it relentlessly. Fierce pleasure coursed through him at the look on the mage's face—eyes wide and lips parted in shock—and Fenris could only smirk triumphantly. Anders' life began to drain rapidly, topaz dulling to a faded tan behind the glossy haze of death.

There was nothing coherent enough to be considered a thought in his mind when Anders' eyes began to glow, his skin splitting to reveal veins of lyrium weaving along the surface. Something foreign entered Fenris' mind, and all he heard was, Release him at once, before he was flung backward, sprawling on the floor in a twisted heap. He felt weak as he attempted to right himself, unable to lift his head momentarily as the abomination approached him, a wicked expression distorting his features. The spirit within him was still in control, and it sickened him.

"I will stay silent no longer,"Justice roared, reaching down and lifting Fenris by the throat. "It is only my respect for the lingering affection of Anders' lover for you that I do not end your vile, spiteful life."

"L-Lingering… affection?" Fenris choked out between barely attainable gasps of air. The hand tightened around his neck, his toes barely grazing the floor as he hung helplessly from the mage's grasp. It was as if the world was spinning around him as each breath became more difficult to take, his chest tightening and his vision beginning to go black.

In an instant, Justice had tossed Fenris toward the fireplace, a small distance separating him from the dancing orange and yellow of the flames. It was luck alone that kept him from rolling into them, a danger that left him more than a little frightened. It was a purposeful stride that brought the abomination to the hearth where Fenris lay, the heat of the fire warming his armor, beads of sweat forming on his brow. It was with a strong effort that he was able to sit up, aware that any attempt to defend himself would be meager, at best.

"I find it difficult to believe that even you can be this ignorant." Justice crouched before Fenris, and the elf was fascinated by the way the lyrium swirled—almost white—in the orbits where topaz eyes were once held. It was hypnotic in its brilliance, and would be beautiful if it were not evidence of something as deadly as any sword.

He grasped his head in a white-knuckled grip, nails digging into his scalp to the point of drawing blood. Collapsing to his knees, the mage cried out—at first in the deep, righteous bellow of the spirit, eventually fading into the desperate shout of the human vessel. His breath started to come in short bursts, his body heaving with the effort it took to inhale and exhale. His head lifted slowly, his eyes still glazed, though they emitted such unabashed guilt that Fenris almost pitied the man.

"Surely you've noticed the looks she gives you when we travel together," Anders forced out, sweat glistening on his forehead as he sat himself up on his knees. "I would rather her bring Aveline along, if for no other reason than to distance herself from the cause of her anguish. She has nightmares constantly, and though she has never spoken of them, I know they have something to do with you."

"I… had no idea. If I had known…" Fenris trailed off, covering his face with a gauntleted hand. "I'm such a fool."

"At least we can agree on that, if nothing else," Anders said nonchalantly.

"Do not make light of this. Leaving was the hardest thing I've ever done." He sighed, turning to face the fireplace and staring into the flames that danced upward and licked against the flue. The surrounding stone was charred black—showing the lack of care that was taken to clean it by both Bodahn and Orana—and the dark void that it created only deepened Fenris' regret.

"You say I don't know what it means to love. Before I met Hawke, I would have been inclined to agree with you. Now, though… well, just know that I do care for her: deeply. I would even go so far as to say I love her." His vision began to grow cloudy, and a mild feeling of confusion passed through him before he became aware that he was going to cry. Making every effort to keep his voice even, he continued, "I have never been one who could easily express how I feel. Unfortunately, that is what she needs."

"Which is why I'm here," Anders said pointedly, his voice nearer than the elf had anticipated. He bristled at the close proximity, but resisted the urge to lash out. "If you truly love her, Fenris, stay away. Give the wounds time to heal."

"I will do whatever I think is best. I do not need your advice."

Anders sighed loudly in frustration before the sound of his footsteps walking away was heard. He said nothing as he ascended the stairs, the click of the bedchamber door closing the only evidence that Fenris was now truly alone. He continued to stare absently into the fire, emotions roiling in the pit of his stomach and leaving him nauseous. Thoughts ricocheted erratically in his mind, weaving into a tight knot of confusion that caused his head to ache.

With his resolve to speak with Prentiss rapidly disintegrating—all a product of the damned mage's inability to mind his own business—Fenris slammed his fist against the stone mantle, the sound echoing throughout the main hall. The fireplace coughed up a cloud of ash and embers, the dark curls settling upon the hearth. When his vision was no longer obscured by the lingering soot, he gazed at the pattern it had left and felt the breath leave his body in a rush.

A pair of eyes stared back—the same obsidian as Prentiss'. Foolish as it was, he couldn't bring himself to continue looking at them, kicking at the ashes with his foot to destroy the image. He leaned back over the fireplace, his grief and regret tormenting him until at last, it seemed he could no longer control the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. A single tear slipped down his cheek, and Fenris was ashamed that he could so easily become a slave once more: though it was to his emotions rather than a magister, the ideas were equally terrifying.

It was with a heavy heart that he wiped the moisture from his skin, watching as the lone teardrop fell into the fire. It struck him as oddly poetic as he simply stood there, the last of his love for her following it into the flames. With a sigh, he left the estate, knowing that as he had lost his memory to a mage, he now lost his heart.

This was written for a contest over on deviantART, but I chose to share it here as well. Hope you enjoyed it!