Author's Note- Blame my hyperactive imagination (and Fenris) for this one. Alessa is my rogue Hawke from my main DAII story "Maelstrom". I didn't think I could fit this easily into the story itself, so I made it a one shot. Takes place somewhere late in Act 3.

Hadriana could have bound him once they had reached the round room- it surely had another name but it was simply the round room to him. It would have been gotten them there swifter if she had waited, but she was willing to go slower for the enjoyment of parading him through the halls gagged and with his arms chained tightly behind him. She took delight in lashing him with the switch in her hand every time he stumbled.

The other slave she was dragging along kept her eyes on the floor, not looking at him. Pitying him but glad she wasn't the subject of Hadriana's attentions.

Since he knew what was coming for her, he couldn't resent her for it.

His heart started to pound as they reached the doors. His master was already there, standing in front of a wide marble slab. Danarius turned and gave Hadriana a cool look. "I have been waiting."

He felt, more than saw, her flinch. You didn't keep Danarius waiting. She gripped the back of his neck and dragged him into the circle inlaid in gold on the floor. She stripped him down until he wore nothing but the markings on his skin, touching him, letting her nails rake cruelly over flesh and markings alike, her eyes gleaming. He recoiled from her touch, disgusted, not caring if it angered her. Nothing she could do to him was going to match the pain that was coming. Her eyes flashed with fury and she looped the chain holding his hands through a golden ring set in the floor, forcing him to kneel before she looped another chain around his neck and affixed the ends to a second ring, making sure the position was as uncomfortable as possible.

He couldn't lift his head much but he could see Danarius had already prepared the other slave. He could hear the muffled sounds of her screams through the gag their master had stuffed into her mouth, hear the clank of golden chains as she struggled on the slab.

All too familiar sounds.

He heard the sound of a blade puncturing flesh and the slave's cries suddenly died. He smelled blood and kept his eyes on the floor, muscles tense. Hadriana's footsteps echoed in the eerie silence of the room as she took bowlful after bowlful of blood and poured it carefully into the channels carved along the sigil on the floor. One such channel ran directly beneath him and he could see the dark trickle of blood make its way through it.

"Ah, Maridan." Danarius actually sounded disappointed as he moved around the circle. He was carrying a stack of perfect rectangles of polished stone, each with a rune carved into it. He laid them out at certain points, turning each so they formed whatever spell he wanted. "Such a bright boy. It's a shame, really; he would have been great if he had just learned to pace himself. You don't try and kill a magister until you have a good idea of the extent of their powers." He shook his head ruefully. "It's a terrible waste of potential but when you play the game..."

When Danarius had walked fully around the circle, he placed a stone at the top most point of it, right in front of the slab. Power surged within the circle and pain wracked him, making him convulse within his chains. There was a horrible sense of arcane energy being pushed through the markings and his flesh, then suddenly drawn out of him into the bloody circle beneath him, making it glow. Gathering power.

Danarius needed a lot of it. Reaching across the city, piercing the defenses Maridan had up around his home, tearing into the other magister's mind and letting him suffer a bit for daring to attack Danarius. He already had a good idea how much power he could channel through and draw out of his slave. Again and again, power tore through him. If one wave came too close behind another, his flesh actually singed from the intensity of magic flowing through the lyrium.

Hadriana finally spoke dispassionately, "Master, I think if you draw much more from him, he won't survive it."

Danarius, eyes alight with the joy of taking down an enemy, turned to look. A final scream from Maridan echoed in the room before a final surge of power killed him, cutting off whatever connection Danarius had forged with his mind. The magister looked irritated that he hadn't been able to have as much fun as he had hoped, glaring down at his slave in the circle.

He hung in the chains, feeling swollen, like his skin was just going to burst along the lines of the markings. His vision started to go dark, drawing him down into blissful unconsciousness...

...that was driven back as Danarius forced a wave of prickling blood infused energy through him, taking away the worst of his injuries and dragging his mind back into awareness. He sank down as far as the chains would allow him, not caring about the strain it put on his arms and shoulders for the moment.

He barely registered the footsteps approaching him, twitching when Danarius ran a hand softly down the back of his head, over his shoulders, tracing lightly over the knobs of his spine. He tried to stop the whine of pain that rose in his throat through the gag every time those fingers brushed one of the markings, but he simply didn't have the energy. "Not to worry, my pet." Danarius's voice was soft. He ran a finger up along the curve of his ear, tweaking the tip of it almost playfully. "We'll do better next time, won't we?"

Hadriana was carefully picking up the rune stones, stacking them precisely. Danarius turned away. "Quickly now...let's get those properly stored before they lose any of their potency. It's time I showed you the method of going about it..."

Their voices faded as he let the door click behind them, the torch dimming at a word from the magister. The worst part...the absolute worst...was the fact he knew he would have begged them not to leave him like this if he had been able to speak. Anything to stop the pain that radiated through every part of him now...

Coming awake was a strange and utterly disorienting sensation of phantom pain that echoed across the years he'd put between then and now. He tore out of the Fade with his heart pounding a mile a minute, soaked to the bone with his markings glowing brightly. Worse, it unleashed a slue of memories he struggled to hold back, to keep in the past. But they wouldn't let him be. His own mind had become his tormenter.

Something moved beside him.

Fenris launched himself away, stumbling when he got tangled up in the covers and ending up in a heap on the floor without a hint of his usual skill or grace.

He was dying, had to be. His heart surely couldn't go so fast without expiring.

He couldn't breathe.

"Fenris?"

"Fenris." A blow across his face accompanied the barking voice. He was dragged out of sleep to see Hadriana looming above him, hands on her hips. "Such laziness doesn't befit a magister's prized pet. I have need of you, get up."

Hatred welled up inside him, even a few moments of sleep denied him because of this woman. She saw it in his eyes and sneered, speaking quietly, "I'd cut out your tongue if Danarius didn't like it so much." Her voice took on a mocking edge. "Your voice wouldn't be so pretty then."

If only he could kill her...but he couldn't. Danarius probably wouldn't kill him for killing his apprentice but the punishment for it would no doubt be new and inventively painful. He pushed himself wearily to his feet.

"Fenris!"

That voice wasn't Hadriana's. He lifted his head painfully to look at the figure who had come to the edge of the bed, still struggling to breathe. The eyes that met his weren't cold blue. One was the clear gray blue of a winter sky, like her mother's, the other was a warm brown, from the father he had never met. They weren't sneering and hateful, but filled with sleepy concern that was rapidly sharpening into focus as she took him in.

"So this is the heart line...that has something to do with romance, I guess...and this one is supposed to tell you how long you will live." Hawke was demonstrating on her own palm, of course, studying the lines on it.

He couldn't hide his amusement. "I think someone would have made a system of it if you could actually plot the course of someone's life by random lines on the palm. It would certainly mean trouble for someone like me." He spread his hands. The ones on his own palms were obscured by lines of lyrium that went from the tips of his fingers down to his wrist.

"Point." Hawke squinted dual colored eyes up at him, that swift, mischievous smile of hers flashing across her lips for a moment. "I guess you'll just have to plot your own future."

Alessa.

"Fenris, breathe."

He closed his eyes again. It was like a thousand red hot hooks in his flesh, making it painful to breathe, a hard shudder tearing through his body as he tried to hold back the onslaught of memory.

Danarius enjoyed running his hands over the markings. Especially when it hurt. There was a joy that he had never understood in the magister's eyes as he ran his fingers over those silver lines, up and down his body time and time again, prideful and possessive at the same time. Sometimes he would gloat about making such a beautiful specimen even more beautiful. He was, the magister would tell him in a tone that suggested he should be honored, his finest piece of property.

Fenris tore his shirt off. The air was a slap of cold against his sweat soaked body but he couldn't bear the feeling of material against the markings. He would have torn free of all his clothing except he would have felt far too vulnerable. He recoiled automatically when Alessa knelt in front of him, backing away until his back hit a wall and sliding down it. She kept a few feet in front of him, not moving any closer, which he was grateful for. His flesh felt like it was crawling with worms, eating their way through him. He couldn't stand the idea of being touched.

Another hot spasm of pain ripped through him and he gasped, doubling over.

"Breathe in slowly." It was not a request.

Maker help him, he couldn't. He tried to shake his head.

"Fenris, please try..." Her composure cracked, just for a minute, worry and fear plain in her voice and eyes. She knew he didn't want to be touched, was holding herself back from it, but it was a struggle because he was frightening her so badly.

That thought gave him something to hold onto.

Hawke had never seen him when memories rode him so hard they tore him out of sleep. He couldn't stop it when he slept; no matter how badly he wanted the past to stay behind him, it was always there. He couldn't see her, not really, couldn't see anything clearly. So when she laid a hand on his shoulder, his instincts took over before he realized who she was. He lashed out, intent only on stopping that touch, stopping those hands from taking and hurting him any further. There was a still, ringing moment of horrified clarity where a part of his mind finally registered who he was striking out at, and he tried to pull the blow but it wasn't enough. His arm slammed into hers as she blocked it, face grim. And with fear in her eyes. The self loathing that crippled him in that moment was worse than any memory.

He wrapped his hands around his upper arms, forcing himself to breathe in slowly even though the air seemed to sting his lungs. Not this time. Never again, no...if she touched him, he'd rip into his own flesh rather than strike her.

"That's it." Her voice was calm again, a balm to his shattered nerves. She made no move to come closer, simply crouched on the floor in front of him. "Take it slow...deep breaths..."

He focused on that soft, steady voice. Hawke was one of those who got calmer and calmer the more panicked other people got. She would tell people to just calm down and think with that quiet voice, that it would be all right, and miraculously, it most often would turn out that way.

It was that way now. His breathing smoothed out, his heart slowed, the convulsions wracking him slowly faded away.

Alessa sat and watched him as he regained control of his body, though it was going to take a longer while for his mind to catch up. When he finally looked at her again and she saw that the worst had passed, she finally spoke again, "Do you need me to leave?"

A simple, honest question without a hint of anger or hurt to it. Times like this, she reminded him of a statue from one of her ruins: beautiful and still with that patient air of someone who could wait all day for an answer or a sign. Whatever he needed, whether it be her absence or presence, she would do.

For Hawke, it was as simple as that.

The question sent his mind into another whirl of confusion. He didn't want anyone, even her, touching him, hated it when she saw him like this, but the idea of her leaving almost made him panic. "No..." He needed her, couldn't live without her, he needed her to be close, just not too close. Which wasn't fair at all and he couldn't stop it. He hated himself for being so weak. "I...forgive me..."

Of all things, that irritated her. "Don't be daft. You start apologizing, I'll slug you."

A whine came from the doorway before he could reply. Her hound slunk in, drawn by the noise, flicking confused eyes from one to the other. He knew something was wrong but the only two people in the room were two people he didn't even think to attack.

Hawke rose to her feet and patted him lightly to reassure him. The hound crept up to Fenris and the elf jerked away when the snuffling nose came close to his arm.

"Moose." Hawke's voice was firm from across the room. The dog withdrew, trotting over to her. Fenris snorted a bit. Such a ridiculous name for a dog. Especially a Mabari warhound. But both Varric and Hawke had made jokes about him being a 'big moose of a dog' and somehow, the hound had decided that was his name. The same way he had decided that Hawke belonged to him. What the two legged creatures around him cared about was of no concern at all to the dog.

Fenris climbed to his feet slowly, cursing himself for being so shaky, and made his way to one of the chairs by the fireplace. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Simple gestures, but they comforted him. His body, his mind, no one else's. He didn't belong to Danarius. He certainly didn't belong to memories. Even Hawke. He was hers. But he didn't belong to her and she didn't want him to. It had taken him years before he figured out the difference.

There was a soft click as Hawke set a glass on the small table beside him. He opened his eyes and watched her as she moved to stoke the fire back into a real blaze. Pride stirred him to speak, "Don't fuss over me, Alessa."

"I will if I want to," she shot back tartly to cover the fact he was better for being tended to and they both knew it. She just didn't point it out. "One glass of wine, the last thing you need is inebriation."

Moose, since both of his people seemed calm and unharmed, flopped down in front of the fire between them as Hawke sat down in the chair across from Fenris's. The big dog laid on his side at an angle he could keep an eye on both of them.

Fenris drank slowly, letting it soothe him. He closed his eyes again, feeling weary but fearing what might be waiting for him in the Fade. "You should go back to sleep," he murmured to Hawke, his voice breaking the silence.

She looked tired, dark circles under her eyes, but she shook her head, shrugging. "I won't be able to."

He knew that, but it had been worth a try. "Then talk to me, Alessa...I can't...I don't want to think..." And he didn't want to talk about the dreams either.

"Baron Josephus put out a new treaties on the movement of stars, have you heard about it?"

He shook his head.

"I'm not so sure about it, but it's an interesting theory." She went on to outline it and he focused on her voice, soft and easy. She spoke about how the Baron built on the new maps showing the world to be round, like a ball. He theorized that there was a similar sphere of air, wind, and stars that encompassed everything, forever moving.

The study of stars and the sky wasn't a subject either one of them were well versed in or even particularly interested in. It wasn't a topic that would inspire discussion or debate, just something she could talk about.

When Moose rose to take a quick check around the room and returned to them, Fenris reached a hand out slowly, letting his fingers rest on the hound's head. His skin didn't feel like it was going to crawl off his body whenever he touched anything anymore. The dog whuffed happily and Fenris moved to scratch his ears. The movement was soothing to both of them, and Fenris felt sleep tugging at him insistently despite his efforts to resist it.

Hawke had stopped talking and was watching him. Whatever she saw in his eyes and face made her relax, took away that edge of worry from her eyes. "You should sleep, Fenris. I can give you something, if you like."

He actually considered it. She would know something that would dull his senses so he wouldn't dream. After a moment, however, he shook his head. "No...the wine was enough." He wasn't entirely certain of that, but he didn't want drugs bogging him down when he woke. He pushed himself up in the chair and paused, looking at her. His Alessa. So beautiful. Danarius hadn't been able to take her away from him when he was alive, and the memories he had burned into his flesh and mind weren't going to either. Never again. He reached a hand out to her, murmuring her name, and she took it, twining her slender, calloused fingers with his and squeezing gently.

He released her hand and stood, tiredness dogging every step as he moved back to the bed. Alessa slid in beside him, leaving space between them, perhaps sensing he needed it. Another apology rose in his throat but he was already drifting off to sleep, exhaustion pulling him down. Probably a good thing since it would just annoy her.

This time, his sleep was deep and uninterrupted. He only stirred once, turning toward her in the early morning, his hand resting softly over hers on the bed.

He'd slept too long. Fenris sat up slowly, trying to shake off the groggy feeling. Alessa was gone but there was a glass of some kind of healing brew- an unspoken command -sitting on the bedside table and a large basin filled with water that was still steaming nearby. Still tending to him, he thought. It was as much for her sake as for his, again something he was slowly grasping. If someone was in any form of pain, it was her first instinct to try and take care of it, and that was especially true with him. Her need to protect him ran as deep as his need to protect her. There was nothing she could do, no technique she could apply, no potion she could brew, no salve she could make, that would spare him from the horrors in his past. The most she could do was help him as he learned to live with it fully.

He drank slowly. The medicinal herbs were balanced out by a faint touch of mint and apple, refreshing him. It helped push back the grogginess and eased the ache in his limbs.

Moose came in as he was washing up. He glanced over, narrowing his eyes as the dog sat down and watched him. "I'm not an invalid, I don't need two of you watching over me," he muttered. And was ignored.

He felt better, he thought, leaning against the table for a moment. Those memories had faded, locked back once again. He dressed and headed out into the house in search of the only person in the world he wanted to see right now. There was still a part of him that tugged him back toward his mansion to hole up for a day or two, giving himself time to recover away from people. That part was eclipsed by longing so strong it drew him along like an invisible thread.

She was in a small room she'd turned into a study. He opened the door and stepped in, closing it with a click behind him. Hawke was sitting at the desk, papers spread out in front of her as she worked, her hair pulled back away from her face in a tight tail. She looked up and rose when she saw him, moving around the desk and pausing, hesitating a bit. She would not touch him until she was certain it wouldn't bother him.

Fenris was pulling her into his arms even before she could speak.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding onto him tightly. He buried his face against her neck, breathing in the scent of her, the warmth of her body. They simply stood that way for a long while until Alessa leaned back and laid her fingers lightly against his cheek, her eyes searching his face. She didn't ask him if he was all right, since she knew he wasn't fully, and he didn't apologize because he knew she would simply say there was no need. No fear in her eyes, not for herself. Something unclenched in his heart when he saw that. He rested his forehead against hers. "I hate them, Alessa."

"I know."

"I thought once Danarius was dead, he wouldn't haunt me anymore. But in sleep...in dreams..."

"Fenris, don't..." She ran her fingers through his hair lightly, tracing the line of his cheek and along his jaw. Soft, gentle, not demanding anything. He closed his eyes, remembering that night almost four years gone. Danarius, Hadriana...any of the magisters of Tevinter, had demanded he give him everything he had by simple virtue of the fact he was a thing to be owned. Hawke had never demanded anything...and had given everything of herself. That touch had been so different from what he had been used to it was almost painful in itself back then, raising too many conflicting emotions and memories.

He framed her face in his hands, making her look at him, his eyes locking with hers with sudden ferocity. "Why me, Alessa?" He'd never asked this question before no matter how many times it echoed through his head. "I tried to stay away from you. I tried. I tried to back away and let you find someone who wouldn't hurt you. Wouldn't frighten you. I never know if I'll come back from one of those dreams and see you trying to hide the fear in your eyes. I come away from these memories feeling like nothing but a shell...a scarred, bitter thing. Why am I worth so much risk?"

"You don't see what I see," she said simply.

"I don't."

"I see a man with scars he got from facing unimaginable cruelty and not breaking from it. A man, Fenris." She brushed her lips across his, feather-light, so soft and swift it was barely a ghost of sensation. It paralyzed him, left him completely at her mercy and there was no where else he wanted to be. He reached a hand up slowly, pulling the tie out of her hair and letting his fingers glide through the silken black strands of it. "Look at what you were even before you killed him, Fenris. Look at all you've done for yourself," Alessa whispered. He had a sudden vision of the shock and anger in Danarius's eyes during that final confrontation. Despite his confident boast at how predictable his little Fenris was, the man Danarius had seen was not the one he was used to.

She kissed him lightly again and this time he deepened it, dragging her against him. He kissed her again and again, barely giving either of them time to breathe, murmuring her name like a prayer against her lips, Alessa Alessa...

By the time he pulled back, they were backed up against the desk and she was trembling in his hold, clinging to him because her legs were too weak to hold her up. Her breath came out in a whimper when he started to move down her neck and he almost purred at the sound. This desire that rose between them...drawing them inexorably together..complex and simple all at the same time. Surrendering to her only to find she was surrendering right back. He was strengthened...cleansed...by it.

Her arms curved around him, her hands sliding beneath his shirt. She paused, hesitating, and Fenris laid his hands over hers, encouraging her to touch him. Every touch, every kiss burned away the remnants of that bitter fear. He leaned back far enough to allow her to pull the shirt over his head, then leaned into her again. He followed the line of her neck upward, nuzzling along the curve of her jaw softly as he lifted her onto the desk. It was effortless for him; she was so small, so deceptively delicate. Her skin was soft but it rode over lithe muscle and was scarred from past battles here and there. His hands ran over the curve of her hips and upward, enjoying the heat of her skin through the cloth, stroking the soft flesh of her breasts through it until her fingers tightened at the small of his back. He was murmuring to her in his native Arcanum, his lips brushing her ear, telling her how beautiful she was. She could only understand a handful of the language, but what the words didn't tell her, the tone did.

Alessa let her hands slide away from him, undoing the front laces of her dress with shaking fingers. She shrugged the dark cloth off her shoulders, letting the top half of the dress fall away down to her waist. He urged her to lift herself up until he could slide it off completely, letting it pool on the floor at their feet. Their lips met again, nipping at each other softly as he teased one of her nipples though the breast band, running the knuckle of one finger over it gently until it was hard beneath the cloth. Her back arched softly in a silent invitation and he peeled the band down, his lips replacing his fingers. She made another of those soft, breathless whimpering sounds deep in her throat, her legs sliding up around his waist, pressing him closer. Fenris shifted against her, hips moving softly against hers, giving away the sense of urgency the rest of him hid. He took his time, moving from one breast to the other until her fingers were tangled in his hair and she was moaning his name.

He finally lifted his head to look at her, feeling a surge of pure satisfaction as he took in the dazed expression on her face, in her eyes. He caught her hands when she tugged at the fastenings of his trousers, drawing them up, making her curl her arms around his neck as he kissed her softly. "Not yet." He felt half mad with his own need, but he didn't want this to end so quickly.

"Fenris..." There was a pleading edge to her voice. He wrapped an arm around her, cradling her hips and running his free hand down between her legs, tracing a finger against her through her smallclothes. She cried out, bucking softly against him. "Please..."

"Not yet..." He nipped the lobe of her ear, pulling until her smallclothes were gone and she was naked, nothing more hiding her skin from his. He slipped his hand down again, growling softly when he felt how wet she was. His fingers teased past the damp curls, parting her gently. Maker's breath, the sounds she was making...

He bit her neck softly as she gripped his shoulders, her hips rocking toward his as he stroked her. He found that perfect spot inside her, circling it with his fingers, and her head fell back. She was helpless, unable to do anything but move with the rhythm of his hand. He teased her mercilessly, feeling almost drunk from the sound of her pleas and helpless cries. It was power of the sweetest kind, knowing how much she wanted him, how much she craved his touch. Her body seized up suddenly and he caught her mouth with his, swallowing her cries. The rush of silky heat around his fingers robbed him of the ability to wait anymore. He drew back from her hold long enough to strip, then he was taking hold of her legs, pulling her back against him. She shuddered when she felt him against her. "Fenris, I need you..."

He nuzzled her ear, tangling the fingers of one hand into her hair. "Again." She moved against him reaching down between their bodies to stroke him lightly. He gripped her hips, angling her just enough he was barely penetrating her. "Say it again, Alessa..."

"I need you," she breathed, tilting her hips upward. She let out the most extraordinary sigh when he glided into her to the hilt, his head falling forward until his forehead rested against her shoulder. "I never stopped wanting you..."

"Alessa." He held still for a long, breathless moment, then started to move in her, unable to hold back any longer.

She wrapped herself around him, her head falling back as she closed her eyes. "Maker...Fenris, I love you. So much."

He buried his face against her neck, gripping her hips tightly as he drove into her again and again, wild with need. She fell back on the desk, moving against him in a frantic rhythm and he braced himself on his arms, drinking in the sight of her. There was nothing that compared to the sight of her writhing against him at this moment, no sweeter sound than her cries. The Maker couldn't have crafted a more exquisite creature in all of existence and if anyone had dared to say differently, he would cheerfully have killed them.

He was struggling to hold back, teetering on the edge, when she came again. "Fenris!" His name melted into a wordless cry, her body tightening around him, her back arching helplessly. She dragged him over the edge with her, moaning her name, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough they left bruises, marking her.

Fenris collapsed on her, shaking, letting his head settle against her breast. He could hear the frantic beat of her heart against his ear, matching his. They were still for a long while, recovering slowly. He finally pulled himself upright, drawing her up with him. He brushed her hair out of her flushed face and kissed her gently. She twined her arms around him again, covering his face with soft kisses, murmuring that she loved him over and over.

There was nothing he wouldn't do for this woman. He would die for her, kill for her, tear Thedas apart from one side to the other if that was what she wanted. That never changed, but at times like this, the intensity of feeling was frightening. It wasn't the mindless, conditioned compulsion of a slave to serve. It was the simple fact that she was everything to him.

Everything.

She looked up at him as she slid off the desk, leaning against him for support. The look in those mismatched eyes, the adoring expression on her lovely face, shook him to the core, and he knew she was thinking along the same lines as he was. He closed his eyes, almost feeling that moment imprint itself in his mind. Fenris suddenly understood in a way he had not before that part of learning to live with the brutality of his past was right here. Every moment with her built up a store of memories in his mind Danarius couldn't stand up to. They would never truly fade but maybe one day...one day he would wake to find far more good memories outweighing the bad ones.

He drew her into his arms, cradling her against him like she was the most precious thing in the world. Alessa laid her head on his shoulder. She'd told him once that she always felt safe in his arms, no matter what, and he had every intention of making sure that always stayed true.

They stood that way for a long time. No memories, no past between them, just two lovers suspended in a moment of complete peace, even in the strange, changing world around them, aware of nothing but each other.