Chapter Text
“FENRIS!”
He didn’t remember the thug as he was knocked to the ground, head smashing, blood pooling, a knife between his ribs and a hammer at his leg. In fact, Fenris doesn’t remember anything at all. Especially not Hawke running towards him full speed, trying to catch him before he slammed into the ground.
What Fenris does remember is Danarius, red faced in fury. Spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed, rotten breath clogging his nose. Fenris hadn’t done anything different that he was aware of, but it was enough to piss his master off. The magister threatened to sell him, promising that whoever was stupid enough to buy such a piece of shit slave would never treat him as well as he does. That whatever fool magister decided to take him off of his hands would never give him the same courtesy and gentleness that he was afforded now. He was spoiled! So many other slaves would kill to be where Fenris is now, and how he scorns it!
He does remember Danarius’ putrid smile as he left Fenris alone and in pain, promising him a hell like he had never known.
So when Fenris wakes on a lumpy cot, leg burning, ribs near paralyzed with agony, and head spinning, he knew that he had fucked up. If he was lucky then Hadrianna would drag his broken body before his master and he would face his fury. Then he would spend the coming weeks making up for his wrongdoings before eventually being left alone. Then he could take a few private moments to mollycoddle himself, even if he had nothing to soothe with.
“There you are!” An unfamiliar voice says. “I have to admit, I was worried. It seemed like you’d never wake up. And I did promise Hawke you would.”
A man–no. A magister who specialized in healing. He looked over Fenris, obviously tired. He must be getting paid well to tend to Fenris at the moment. The slave remained quiet. If Danarius had to spend this much money to patch him up then whatever pain he was in for would surely be doubled. Of course Fenris was aware of the irony, but he’d never say anything. He’s not stupid.
. “Not gonna say anything, huh? …not that I blame you. You’ve been through a lot, you probably just want to go home. I’ll send a message over to Hawke so he can come pick you up. I’ll make you an elfroot potion to help the pain back on the trip back to Hightown. I know Hawke has more. Assuming of course he gives it to you instead of trying to heal you more himself.” The tired looking magister says while he fusses with his herbs and poultices. Fenris felt cold. The last thing he remembered was his master, Danarius, promising him pain. Now the stranger around him talked of a Hawke. Who was Hawke? Did his master truly follow through with his threats of selling him? And if so, why? Fenris knew that those threats, no matter how heavy they felt, were hollow. Danarius had spent so much on him, kept him on such a short leash. He was not an unloved warm body that could and would be sold at the drop of a pin, he was an investment.
Fenris’ eyes must have had a look of trepidation in them, because soon the magister was placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and softly calling to him.
“Fenris, Hawke will take care of you. He won’t let anything bad happen to you. And even if you don’t like me, I’ll be here to help if you ever need it,” the healing magister said softly and Fenris tried to not think about how much he would hurt when this Hawke finished tending to him before returning him to Danarius. Surely, this was just a test of some sorts, a planned and faked “taste” of what life without Danarius would be like. Fenris couldn’t remember what he had done, but it must have been something bad. So he drank the potion that he was given and closed his eyes to doze in the last quiet moments he would have for a long, long while.
Before long there was a clamoring and a loud voice shouting his name. Fenris’ eyes snapped open and he automatically stood up, powering through the pain that threatened to crumple him. A broad and burly man shouldered into the room, robes looking like a bad disguise as they strained over his thick warrior’s frame. The only thing that gave away his high status was the paunch on his stomach, but even that added to the look of the body of a working man who definitely didn’t need magic to tame unruly slaves.
“You’re up! Fenris!” The man all but shouted before gathering him into his arms for a bone crushing hug. “You scared me.”
Fenris stayed mostly still, leaning into the hug enough that he wouldn’t be punished for noncompliance. What did this magister mean by that?
“Hawke!” Oh no. So this was the Hawke that the healing magister had been talking about. Perhaps Danarius did find someone to sell him to, someone that would make the loss of all that lyrium worthwhile and make Fenris suffer.
“Sorry Anders, I just got so excited. I’m just so glad he’s alright, you know?” Hawke said sheepishly, hand rubbing at Fenris’ lower back.
His healer, Anders, just shook his head tiredly. Holding out fresh bandages, a poultice, and a small draught, which Fenris took in hand automatically so that his potential new master wouldn’t have to carry them, Anders instructed the two of how often to change the remaining bandages, to reapply the poultice to the wounds every night regardless of if the bandages are changed, and that there was a small vial of something strong if things went sideways and Fenris was in a lot of pain but please do send for him if that happens.
Hawke assured Anders that they would comply before kissing Fenris’ temple, then gathering his hands up and kissing his knuckles and quickly taking the supplies out of his hand and putting them in a bag. His arm was then brought around this Hawke’s waist while Hawke put an arm around Fenris’ shoulders and leaned him into his side.
“I know you’d rather walk back to my place like you’re fine,” Hawke murmured into his ear, breath ghosting over the tip of it and making him shiver, “but that was quite the knock down you took. Please just lean against me and let me help you back to the estate.”
Fenris couldn’t help the question that peeled past his lips. “Are you sure?”
Hawke squeezed Fenris’ shoulders and kissed his temple once more.
“Oh, love, I am more than sure. You are so precious to me. Let me help, you’re worth the time it takes to help you get better.”
Fenris felt his stomach bottom out. What the fuck.
What the fuck did this brick shithouse in magister robes mean by that. Clearly Danarius had sold him to this man Hawke and obviously almost immediately after bringing him home, Hawke had nearly lost his investment piece to an assassination attempt. He was worried that the thing he’d just spent so much money on was about to die before it worked off what it cost. But why was he being so touchy-feely?
The two made haltingly slow work away from the dilapidated clinic Fenris had woken up in. Why was he there and not in his master’s house being visited by this Anders? Fenris couldn’t tell if it was because of finances, need of specialized supplies, or something else. That this Anders was the sort of magister who pitied the poor and gave charity to them, that he and Hawke were the special kind of close only two eternal bachelors could be, so of course Hawke took his expensive new slave to be cared for in his good friend’s pity clinic.
A loose cobble stubbed Fenris’ toe and caused him to stumble. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, only Hawke hauled him so he wouldn’t fall and that not only threw his rhythm off but it jostled his ribs on top of him twisting his leg. Head swimming from both the elfroot and the wound he sustained, a strangled gag of pain came out of Fenris’ mouth before he could even think to stifle it. Hawke gasps loudly at the sound and for a moment the world is blacked out.
Fenris came to with the whole of his new master ensconced around him as he sat snugly in his lap. The magister had debased himself by sitting on a nearby crate as he held the slave upright in his arms, one hand rubbing up and down his back in gentle patterns while the other stroked his hair. Hawke was cooing platitudes to him and softly kissing away a few errant tears that had formed and leaked from his eyes. Fenris wanted to stand back up and keep going, pain be damned. He was stronger than this and more importantly, his master was sitting and coddling him in public, which would surely warrant punishment later. Fenris wanted to minimize how much he would have to suffer, especially since he was unaware of what sort of master this Hawke was.
“Easy, Fen, it’s alright. There’s no need to rush, love, I’ve got you. Take a minute and just breathe. I’ll take care of you,” Hawke murmured. “I know you’d much rather be in our nice warm bed in your nice soft night clothes, I’ll get you back home soon enough. Then I can make you some tea to help with the pain and we can cuddle. I’ll even read you to sleep if you want.”
Hawke kissed his forehead, just above the three dots of lyrium and right where Fenris liked it. A horrible feeling washed over Fenris. Yes, Hawke had bought him from Danarius. Yes, he was this terrifyingly strong magister's personal bodyguard. No, he was not just a bodyguard.
Fenris was sold to Hawke as a pleasure slave.