Forget about magic, was there anything he touched that he didn't spoil?

Huddled against the wall next to the fireplace, Fenris watched Marian sleep, relaxed in a way he had never seen before. He didn't understand how she could just… trust him. Not when he'd broken his word to Hadriana not even a full day before, and then cursed all mages along with the bitch. The way Marian had flinched when he said that…

Even still, she let him into her home, her bed, her heart. Him. A broken, soiled runaway slave who let his temper get the best of him far too often. Being with Marian was a gift. He knew that., and she touched him with a tenderness and care he'd never experienced before. There was no pain from his markings.

Here, in the quiet sanctuary of her bedchamber, he could not escape his past, and what Danarius had done to him. As the ghosts of Marian's touch drifted over his skin, the phantom of the Tevinter magister reared his ugly head and hissed in his ear. The two of them battled in his mind.

My little Fenris… don't resist… if you fight it will only hurt more.

Don't worry, Fenris, you didn't hurt me. Take your time.

Don't struggle… hold still… you'll enjoy it, my pet…

Is this okay? Do you like this?

You can't say no to me, I am your master!

If we do anything you don't like, just say stop and we will.

It would be so much better if you stopped fighting, my little wolf.

May I touch you here? Do I need to stop?

You'll come to enjoy my attention in time…

Shoulders hunched, and he gritted his teeth as he tried to hold off the terrible memories that were overwhelming the good. Ripping, tearing pain. Burning as the markings were deliberately gripped too tightly. Lashes infused with magic so they didn't mar his skin, but lit his nerves as though gaatlok was being ignited on them. Toes curled inwards as he remembered Hadriana laughing and holding him down, allowing Danarius to use a cane on the soles of his feet until they bled.

Marian murmured and rolled over in her sleep, the noise breaking through for a moment before the flashbacks overtook him again.

"Leto! Varania! Supper is ready!" An older elven woman with red hair and olive green eyes wiped her hands on a threadbare rag hanging from her waist. The other elf child, a smaller copy of their mother, was all gangly limbs in a loose, patched shift.

"Come on, Leto, it'll get cold!"

"Leto…"

"Leto…"

"Leto, please don't do this. You don't know what Master Danarius has planned, it's not worth it."

"I have to, Mother. For you and Varania."

"I'm begging you. Please, Leto."

"Leto…"

"Leto…"

"Leto?"

"My name is Fenris, woman. Move aside, the master is coming through."

Fenris scrambled madly, trying to hold onto the memories of the woman and the girl, the name that they called him. It lingered on the edges of his mind, hung on the tip of his tongue, and he wanted to say it and write it down so it wouldn't be lost. Then, like dew in the heat of the morning sun, it was gone.

In the bed, Marian rolled over, gripping the pillow where he should have been to her chest.

The urge to scream was strong. It had been there. His past, memories from before the cursed markings were carved into him, just beyond reach. Why were the bitter memories of his torment at the hands of Danarius and Hadriana so easily at hand, while the ones he longed for the most were phantoms to haunt him? Would this night with Marian join them?

He dropped his head in his hands. Silent, frustrated sobs racked his shoulders. He could not burden Marian with this. She held herself responsible for too much already. The most amazing woman he'd ever known deserved to be with someone who wasn't a broken mess. Someone who insulted her carelessly at every turn. He should have known that this night was too good for him, that it was just a dream for him to hold onto for an hour, maybe two.

Chest aching, Fenris slowly pulled on his armor. He wouldn't leave until Marian was awake. Leaving without any explanation would be cruel. The belt he had unwound from her earlier that night was a scarlet splash across the floor. A ragged ribbon was torn off the edge, hanging. It looked very much like his heart felt. Fenris picked up the belt, and carefully pulled the fabric, tearing it along the weft. Mending it would be easier, and he would have something of Marian's to keep for himself. There was nothing else of hers he was worthy of claiming.

She rolled over again, the fire casting warm light and shadows over her. Marian was so beautiful, no matter what she thought.

The abomination would rejoice, and redouble his efforts to worm his way into Marian's affections. Fenris made a face, then dropped his head. He had no right to stop her from seeking comfort in the mage's arms if she chose to. All he could do is hope the other man made her happy, and rip his heart out if he did anything to hurt her.

He wound the thin strip of red around his gauntlet, and he tied the knot tight and secure, using his teeth to ensure it would not come loose. It would be all he had of her, but he would keep it safe. He would keep her safe, for as long as he had breath in him. He turned to the fireplace, leaning his head on the mantle and praying for something, he wasn't quite sure what.

"Was it that bad?" Marian meant for it to sound joking, but there was a tone of hurt underlying it.

Marian, forgive me for what I'm about to do.