Memory of Death

Hawke didn’t know where they were going, the slavers never revealed anything to their merchandise. They hardly even talked to them unless it was to tell them how useless they were or how stupid, or sometimes how much money they expected to make off of them. Sometimes they would leer at the prettier slaves, and describe in detail just what they would like to do to them. Toma was one of these slaves.

He constantly had to ignore the frequent groping of his person, and the mental images he was given when they told him how they want to fuck him into the ground until he bled. There was no end to it, but he took the Mother’s advice and tried his best to keep his head down. Except for moments like this one.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” the mage yelled at one of the slavers, who had an elvhen child by the hair.

“Eh? Who do you think you’re talking to, slave?” the man growled. “This knife eared little shit dropped my beer all over my clothes, and I was just about to punish him.”

Toma ignored the slaver a moment and turned to the child. “Do you have parents or siblings here, little one?” he asked.

The boy shook his head just as the slaver yelled, “Don’t ignore me, trash!”

“Then, I will take his punishment,” Hawke said.

“I- what?” the angered man paused in confusion.

“Anything this boy does wrongly, any mistake or misstep he makes, shall be mine. He will be my responsibility, and any punishment you wish to deal him, will be taken from my hide,” the gold-eyed man stated.

The slaver gave Hawke a malicious grin and released his victim. “Alright,” he agreed. “Forty strikes with the whip.”

“No, Ser! Don’t do this for me! He was only going to deal me ten with the cane! Please renounce your protection over me,” the child begged.

Hawke smiled down at the little elf. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m much bigger and stronger than you are. I don’t want to see such an ugly frown on such a cute little face,” he said and pinched the kid’s cheeks. “Smile for me, okay?”

The slaver, in his beer-soaked clothes, gripped Toma’s arm in a vicious hold and dragged him to the post, where he tied the slave’s wrists above his head and each ankle to rings hammered into the ground.

“You ready, bitch?”

“Of course,” Hawke said sarcastically. “I love pain; I live for it.”

The mage tensed his muscles as he heard the whip fly through the air; the first hit drew a thin line of blood across his shoulders. He cried out in pain, instinctively tugging at his binds to get away from the infliction. The rest of the whipping was a blur, one assault after another until they meshed together into one torturous agony. Distantly, he registered being untied from the post and being lift by several sets of hands before he passed out.

He came to, lying on his stomach, pain radiating from the stripes on his back. He tried to look around, but resigned himself to being still when it blazed up his spine to the forefront of his head.

Hawke groaned. “I have to learn to keep my mouth shut,” he mumbled.

“Do you regret it then?”

The mage whipped his head around to look at the intruder, or at least he tried to, only earning himself more anguish. He cried out, several tears escaping from his eyes, as he gripped the blankets under him tightly.

“Don’t move Ser!” the person said, startled at the blond’s sudden movement. “We don’t have any medicine for you, so you will be in pain for a long while yet. The only bandages we have are being washed for you at this moment. We can only hope that you do not contract an infection.”

“I’ll survive. Back to your previous question though, I won’t ever regret it,” the gold-eyed man told the other firmly. “No child should have to endure such things.”

“And we thank you,” he replied. “No other would have interfered if you had not. Not even another elf. You are the first in my many years as a slave. What does a human slave gain from this, if I may ask? All other humans I’ve seen only think of themselves, of how they can escape.”

“I… My lover, Fenris, was once an elvhen slave, and the boy… he looks so much like him that I…” Hawke closed his golden eyes to hide the emotion in them.

“Where is your lover now? Is he the one that sold you?” the old elf asked.

“No! Fenris would never-!” Toma stopped himself mid-shout. “No, no he… he’s dead now. I… couldn’t save him.”

“Do you want to see your child now?”

“M-my child? But I’m not…” the blond tried to deny, but the elder male stopped him.

“He is now yours; you claimed him as such. It is now your duty to see after his care until you are separated,” he told the young mage

“Yes, you’re right. Of course I’ll look after him. Where is he now?”

“I was washing your bandages, Ser,” the boy said as he walked into the tent.

“I see,” the tan-skinned human said skeptically. “And how long were you eavesdropping outside?”

A bright blush stole over the child’s features, and Hawke smiled in reminiscence of Fenris.

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “Come here, and let me look at you. You’re not hurt anywhere, right?”

“N-no, Ser. I’m alright,” he replied as he shuffled closer. “Ser, m-may I ask you something?”

“No, go ahead.”

“C-can I… Can I call you Father?” the boy ducked his head in embarrassment.

“Well… That was… unexpected,” Toma blinked in surprise. “Um, I’m a little young to be your father, but I guess I don’t really mind. What’s your name by the way? I don’t think anyone’s told me yet.”

“He doesn’t have a name, Ser. He was too young to remember it when he was sold,” the old elf answered. “We just call him Child or *Da’len.”

“Oh, my Elvish isn’t so good, but ‘len’ means child, right?” They nodded. “Oh good! I know it’s not very original, but how about Fenlen? That’s wolf child, yeah?”

Fenlen cheered and hugged the mage around the neck, careful to avoid the open wounds. “Thank you, Papa!”

A blush crept over Hawke’s cheeks. “Y-you’re welcome,” he replied and hugged back as best he could. He laughed a little. “I guess I have a son now, don’t I?”

o0O.O0o

*Da’len – little child