Disclaimer: Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.

Prompt 1: Self-imposed

Word Count: 455

"They probably hate you, you know." The voice paused cruelly. "Even in death."

Merrill winced, despair tightening her chest. She looked down at her toes, watching silently as the blood of her clan flaked from her clothing and fluttered down onto her pale feet.

"Now, now, Fenris. No need to say a thing like that." Varric consoled, patting her gently on the back. It made her feel worse.

The voice continued, the man it came from ignoring the comment and doing little to hide his disgust.

"Your Keeper was far better than you could ever be, at any rate."

'Yes.' She agreed silently, trudging forward with a hunched limp, denying her thoughts voice as she had for the last week. The journey back to Kirkwall from what was once the Dalish camp seemed to last a lifetime. And every agonizing step of the way was plagued by his ruthless comments. She wished he would just stop. Or better yet, that she would just die.

"Merrill, when was the last time you ate? Your rations seem untouched-" Hawke cut in, the poorly disguised distraction obvious even to her; naïve, stupid and pathetic as she was. Rodent, Hawke's mabari war hound, let out a loud anxious whine.

Fenris snorted, skillfully avoiding the booted heel that stomped a little too hard on area of ground his foot had just vacated.

"But even she, in the end, succumbed. Typical of a mage."

Merrill felt the thin thread holding her emotions at bay snap at the slight against her teacher, the wound of her passing still fresh. They flooded her, filling and wracking her once pure soul so severely it was as if she was forced from her own body. Her physical form still moved, legs still stumbling along and eyes still fastened on the rocky earth. But she was numb; distant. She watched as they raged, reaching their panicle, before leaving her hollow and wretched. Something dark took her then and she had the uncontrollable urge to cause hurt.

She stopped, arms hanging loosely at her sides and eyes fixed resolutely on the dusty ground. Hawke looked down sharply at Rodent when he tensed, ears flattened and deep growl vibrating from his chest.

"You know Fenris…" Merrill spoke slowly, soft voice raspy from her self-imposed silence. Her head turned a fraction; just enough so one unusually sharp brown eye showed.

"There is a name for people like you."

Fenris paused, chin lifting and armored arms folding across his chest. His disdainful face morphed as he raised an eyebrow mockingly, humoring the pathetic creature before him.

Varric and Hawke shared an uneasy glance.

Merrill twisted at the hip, her gaunt face now fully visible. Messy, brown hair flew about her cheeks, the unkempt locks lending her open features a twisted, feral look. Hard eyes caught his, their unique gentleness missing. Then venom dripped from her chapped and bloody lips.

"Slave."

AN: A Prompt based story. Prompts requests and reviews appreciated!

~Delgodess