Disclaimer: I do not own nor have any rights to the game. I do not benefit money in any way from these writings.

Author's Note: Yay, I'm back...Sorry this took so long, and sorry if it is a bit rushed. Happy reading!

Chapter 20

When Fenris told the others what he learned from Feynriel, they were more than ready and eager for the fight ahead of them—to finally get their friend back. It was only a matter of planning. Feynriel was meeting them soon and they would have a place to strike at last.

"Did you see him?" Anders asked finally after sitting in silence while Fenris explained the situation. He and all the others looked to the elf.

Fenris swallowed thickly. Rage rushed through his veins at the memory of what Feynriel showed him. "Yes," he said at last, his voice hoarse and dangerously low. "Only a shadow." His muscles trembled with pent up fury, and even more than that, pain. Seeing Hawke like that opened a chasm inside of him so dark and abysmal it ached and echoed back to him over and over his failure.

For some time no one spoke and in the silence his fury grew. Every muscle was tense, every tendon drawn tight as a bow string ready to snap. It was terrifying even for those who were accustomed to his anger—terrifying for Fenris who knew that perhaps this time the slightest resistance might shatter and defeat him.

His companions exchanged nervous glances.

"Um," Merrill nearly squeaked. Isabela shook her head hurriedly, but Merrill trudged on, a question on her mind that she and everyone present wanted badly to know the answer to. "How—how is he? Do you know?"

A muscle in his cheek twitched when his jaw clenched. Just the mention of his lover brought the images flooding back again, so vivid. As if he'd been there when Danarius force-fed Salea raw lyrium; heard the terrible screams for himself as the magic material burned through the man's body—as if he'd stood off to the side and done nothing. Knowing his lover suffered the pain and illness caused by the lyrium over and over by his old master's hand…

Fenris gripped his other hand like a vise in an attempt to control himself and keep his mouth shut. Speaking would only unleash his fury, and these people did not deserve his wrath.

"Come along, kitten," Isabela broke the intense silence with a nervous glance at Fenris. "Let's go have drink. It may be our last chance for a while." The sea captain quickly pulled Merrill out of the room and Varic followed along after with a deep sigh. Sebastian stepped forward and put a hand on the elf's shoulder. Anders expected Fenris to throw the comforting hand off him and storm about the room destroying what furniture remained from his last outburst. Normally, he would not have been wrong to expect such behavior. But it was different this time. There was only so much a person could take. It seemed Fenris had reached his limit. If they did not get to Salea very soon he did not know what the elf would do. Something extremely foolish and suicidal, no doubt.

Fenris merely nodded his appreciation and Sebastian left with Donnic on his heels. Anders rose to do the same—give the elf time alone until Feynriel arrived.

"Danarius…" Fenris began, then stopped. Anders turned back. "He made Salea drink raw lyrium. What—" Fenris swallowed thickly. "What will it do to him?"

Anders closed his mouth just realizing it must have fallen open in shock. He cleared his throat. "I don't know. If he were a mage it would have killed him. I'm afraid there is no way to know how he has been affected until we get him back."

The mage saw such pain come over the elf's face before he bowed his head with a shallow nod. Fenris did not expect an answer, he knew there wasn't one. What Danarius was doing to Hawke was different from what Fenris remembered from his own lyrium infusion. The consequences to both Salea and the babes were entirely unknown.

"Sal—Hawke is strong," Anders said softly moving to the door. "Probably stronger than us all. He'll be all right."

Anders left unsure why he'd felt the urge to comfort his rival. Most likely because he needed to hear it as well—even if it might have been an empty platitude.

Feynriel arrived under the cover of darkness. The slave boy Feyrn was only too willing to help sneak the half-elf through the servant entrance in the back of the kitchens. Fenris hadn't liked the idea of the sweet boy endangering himself, but he couldn't deny the necessity. To lessen the risk to the boy, Fenris and his companions ensured no one was around either inside or outside the inn to see Feynriel's arrival. There was only one patron who stepped out of their room while the group traversed the halls, and Anders took care of them with a confusion spell that would ensure they did not remember a thing.

Fenris said a quiet good-bye to the slave boy he had grown attached to over the long weeks spent in hell. Feyrn surprised the warrior elf with a hug. Thin arms wrapped tightly around Fenris' waist and squeezed. Fenris swallowed the lump in his throat, a hesitant hand lifting to rest on the boy's head. When Feyrn pulled away Fenris felt his heart constrict in his chest at the sight of the boy's gentle, sweet smile.

"I hope you find your friend, Fenris," the boy whispered. Then he was disappearing back down the dark hallway too quickly. There were so many things Fenris wanted to tell the boy, so much he wanted to do for him. But in a blink the small child was swallowed up by the shadows and Fenris was alone. The thought of leaving Feyrn in this place sickened him, but Fenris had not come to free slaves. He could not help them all. He came for one thing and one thing only. Dividing his attention on any other task, anything other than Salea, could mean failure, and that was not an option. Not for him. Not ever.

Once behind closed doors Feynriel greeted the people who once risked their souls, and their lives in the Fade to help him keep his own.

"I know many of you did not agree with Messere Hawke(1) when he refused to turn me over to the Templars." Feynriel looked around the room at them all, his gaze resting finally on Fenris. "But you were willing to give me a chance to choose my own path because of your trust and loyalty to a single man. Now that man needs us to do the same for him." Feynriel let out a heavy breath, revealing that what he was going to say next was difficult. "Unfortunately I cannot be physically involved with Messere Hawke's rescue. Because of my position in this society I cannot risk the reputation of my master and his House. Please do not interpret this as unwillingness or cowardice because there is no one I would wish more to aid than Salea." Anders and Merrill were nodding their understanding, as if they had expected as much. Others seemed disappointed they would not have another body to take into battle. Fenris only stared hard at the floor, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I am not a warrior," Feynriel continued. "Nor am I a battlemage. But I assure you my skills will be invaluable to you and I can perform them from a safe distance without risking that which I need to protect. I can get you into the fortress. I cannot take care of all the guards—Danarius has a small army guarding himself and his prisoner—but I can do enough to give you a chance."

"Where is he?"

Everyone looked at Fenris.

"It is a watchtower fortress on the outskirts of the old part of the city. Mostly abandoned, until now. The city sentinels sometimes take up posts there, but it is a bit rundown and they don't like to use it since they have to chase out the poor and homeless every time. Seemed like a good place for Danarius to hole up. It is well fortified. No one would really care or really even notice him taking up residence there for a short time. Anyone who might oppose would be easily dealt with."

Anders scoffed. "Sound familiar?" he said to no one in particular. Danarius had essentially done the exact thing with the mansion in Kirkwall that Fenris now lived in illegally.

"All right then," Varric said in the silence that followed. "What is our first step? And how soon can we do this?"

"First," Feynriel said. "None of Danarius' people will have keys into the fortress itself, nor really, any of the doors inside. So, our only quiet way in lies in the hands of a slave girl named Lillan. She is the only one Danarius allows to have her own set of keys. She runs his errands and currently is the only one allowed to tend Messere Hawke without Danarius' presence. I have visited her and spoken at great lengths with her." Fenris stood up straighter, a look of dislike on his face. "She wants to help," Feynriel insisted. "She will involve herself whether we want her to or not. She told me herself. Better that her involvement is limited and on our terms. She will get us into the fortress. That is all. After that it is up to us."

Fenris nodded. He did not like the girl risking herself, but honestly, what choice did they have other than to scale the walls and raise every alarm? It would ruin their one chance of getting Salea back.

"And the other question?" Sebastian said. "When can we start?"

Feynriel glanced around the room at them, knowing by their expressions that they were anxious, practically jumping out of their skins to be gone, to be fighting.

"We can go tonight," he said. "If you can be ready—"

"We're ready," Fenris growled.

Endnotes:

1- In game, Messere is a form of address for someone of higher or greater status. Feynriel uses this term for Hawke as he holds only the greatest respect for the man who risked everything to take a chance on a kid he'd never before met.