Lamb and Wolf

 

She was twelve years old when she was caught, following our group through Lowtown and into Hightown. So tiny, I remember, I had thought her to be far younger than she was. And so quiet, too. Not a word passed her lips  though in the beginning I supposed I thought she was only trying to be stealthy. She only outed herself when I trod upon a sharp stone and stopped to extract it from my foot; she had stripped her shoes off immediately and dropped them down at my feet. One word could describe her at this moment, and that word was 'lost'.



That is to say, I don't assume that she was unable to find her way home, not 'lost' in the typical sense. But I do not think she had any direction in her life. She seemed to be without purpose, and desperate to find some semblance of such in following us. After we had caught her, and I am not foolish enough to believe that this was the first time she followed us, she stopped being so quiet about it, instead tailing a few feet behind us, opting to carry our inventory or bandages or victuals or any other number of menial but surprisingly helpful tasks. I saw no coin change hands between the girl and Hawke in the few months, and when she declined to answer I was quite curious. It was my curiousity that led to this interesting chain of events, you see.



I didn't trust easy, then. I shied away from even Hawke, for all her fairness she did keep the company of mages (of course they were apostates, and no doubt you have heard how the lot of them fared) as well as a frankly terrifying ginger woman.  I was angry, bitter and twisted with hate when I came to speak to Hawke about the tiny elf-blood. It was not easy sneaking into Gamlen's tiny hovel but I managed.





"Hawke." I said, quietly, trying for the life of me not to wake Bethany or Leandra, and loosely pinched her nose. Snorting and startling, Marian shot out of bed and had me against the wall. Of course, there was a knife to my throat so I was unable to properly enjoy such a moment.



"Speak. Fast." She had a sort of... frightening tone to her voice; she always did. A habit of sounding incredibly angry even when speaking words of comfort of pledging her hand to some altruistic task. It chilled one's bones. I spoke calmly in return.



"Hawke. Stay your hand, it is only me."

Marian looked at me as if she would really behead me for a moment and then dropped her hand, gripping one of the edges on my hide armor and dragging me into the front room. "What is it, Fenris, that could not wait until I came to you, or at least til morning?! I  dreamt the most wonderful thing that you've interrupted! Explain yourself. Faster. Hurry." She joked toward the end of her words, speaking over me as I began. I did not laugh. I could not yet laugh.



"The girl who accompanies us, the small elf-blood. You do not pay her. She works long days and long nights carrying our supplies, and I have never seen coin pass from your hand to her own. Why is this? Do you think her your slave?" I asked Marian perhaps a bit more loudly, more forcefully than I intended to. She looked offended, as if I had wounded her with a slap across her face. Gradually, her face softed. "Fenris, don't be rediculous."



"In traveling with us, she recieves food, training, clothing, lodging, and educ--- well, perhaps not education. I assume she learns something from Isabela though I doubt it would hold up in school. In all these things she recieves from us, where is the need for coin? She is provided for. And she has got a name, Fenris." Marian swatted me - why does she need to hit so hard? I did feel quite a bit foolish. Of course, why had I not seen it previously? If she had been given coin it would have paid for those things, why would it not be acceptible to give her those things instead of coin?



I nodded. "Yes, of course. I was foolish to come here and inquire, it just..." I trailed off.



"It struck a chord in you, Fenris, I realise this. Don't be stupid. You have no reason to hesitate to ask me something, but not in the middle of the Maker-Forsaken night!" In moments I had somehow managed to be on the stoop with a wooden door scant centimetres from my nose. In a moment the door opened again. "Her name is Fylo. "



And shut again.



Fylo. It wasn't a common name. It brought nothing to mind, except the small elf-blood with her skirts  girded, and her shoes worn, with her hair mussed and cheeks smudged. Which, of course, was the purpose of a name, was it not? Fylo was Fylo, no other explanation was necessary.  



As I said before, Fylo did not speak. She communicated in a basic manner with gestures and the occasional picture. Of course, she communicated extensively with Isabela, I don't know what made me believe the sailor could be daunted in her quest to annoy everyone who lives. Fylo didn't seem to mind, and if she was bothered in the least she obviously did not say so.

It started innocently enough.



I recall something striking me as odd. The tiny elf-blood seemed more willing to carry my things than anyone else's, and stayed very close to me as we traveled. Isabela and Varric would joke as they do, that Fylo had taken a shine to me and the girl did nothing to say otherwise, which was normal of course. She didn't communicate much with me, though I always did wonder why.  She seemed fascinated by me, did this fascination stem from fear? Madness.



It was during the last few days before we would leave for the Deep Roads, I recall things became far more interesting. With Marian foolishly refusing her mother's pleads to leave Bethany behind, and her being required to take Varric along, the last spot in the first group was coveted amongst the rest of us.  Well, that is to say most of us wanted it... Anders had no desire to go and I was happy to see this. He might have been a Warden and therefore quite useful, but he was also a fool, a mage, and an abomination. Also, he had incredibly greedy eyes. I wonder if Marian noticed this?



She stood there, Marian did, giving assignments for the second group... why did she not just choose for the first team!? I was, as one might say, 'biting at the bit'. I wanted to go.



Or did I? Marian would have never allowed Fylo to come along with us, not so young as she was and so dangerous the trip. Suddenly the last spot did not seem so interesting at the idea that little Fylo would not be following us. I cringed, hearing my name called for the first team. Fylo stood off to the side, behind a shopfront.  Distributing provisions with a smile, as she always did. I felt a pang in my chest, if I were not meant to return from the expedition... I would never see her again, that child who accompanied us and asked for naught,  who seemed to answer directly to me.

I accepted my package of provisions, gave her a soft smile, and turned away. It felt wrong.



Bartrand was probably the least likeable creature, second only to Anders, that I had met. He was shifty and underhanded and foul and loathsome, and when we made camp he kept secret unto himself. I opened my pack of provisions and found... a rather odd object inside a biscuit which of course I found with my teeth (who checks inside a biscuit prior to eating?) and spat it into my hand.



It was a strange and beautiful thing, made of wrapped wire shaped so delicately, a little charm in the shape of the wolf. Of course this was no coincidence, I hid the wolf charm within my clothing. The item on my person warmed me in the cold, dark tunnels and as Marian led us beyond the sealed relic chamber (all the while, Varric vowing to kill Bartrand), yet something felt out of place. It was a resonation somewhere within me, that led me to strike at the Profane abomination we came across before Marian could attempt to reason with it.



Marian and Varric went ahead to check things out, and Bethany went along with them. I  stayed behind to mind the camp, as I was quite sore, and something stuck out of place. A flash of white in the darkness caught my eye, but I did not feel that sick feeling in my gut as I did with the darkspawn. I pursued it, and as quick as I was it was quicker.



But I was seasoned, and smart. This White Flash was cornered easily, and I was shocked to realise I'd been pursuing Fylo - she had snuck along? I cycled quickly from brilliant anger to shock to fear, the girl had become important to me and I did not want to lose the child to the taint.

In my distress I found myself gripping her arms tightly, shaking her, screaming to beat all that she'd done wrong. A lesser child would have cried, would have screamed and fought me. She looked empty, frowning at me as I yelled. Her wide green eyes blinked slowly, and I set her down on her feet. I saw, the bruises my hands left behind on her skin, ugly black things that fit my hands, gouges from my gauntlets, the blood, that proved my crime. She frowned at me, and I believe it was the worst feeling I'd ever known thus far.



Wordless, she began to tend the camp, smoothing out bedrolls. I had brutally shaken her, and still she deigned to make a bed for me?! I did not understand. Here she was, in trousers and a proper boy’s shirt. Followed us the whole way, no doubt. Why? I took to my bedroll, stretching out. I do not know how I slept, in the deep dark, with the weight of my crime on me, but when I woke Fylo was gone and Varric, Bethany, and Marian’s sleeping forms were nearby.

So evasive. I understand so little. The second team was coming up behind us, so I woke the others and pulled up camp. Those days in the dark were strange, and I always seemed to find a tended camp where there was none, our Fylo doing the work and the Hawkes and Varric giving credit to me.



How did Fylo survive when Bethany couldn’t? Bethany died in the deep roads, as we were so close to being out in the sun, the Taint took her. Marian was wholly upset, as is appropriate, and I believe I actually witnessed her tears. It was then that Fylo revealed herslf, kneeling at Bethany’s side and pressing coins onto Bethany’s eyelids and kissing her forehead. The company was taken a bit aback at her appearance, and she said nothing as she walked toward the surface.



Most surprising.



I kept the wolf charm.





.





The gifts came more often, after that. Little figurines of wrapped wire, or bracelets, or circlets in astonishing designs. I did not wear them, as that would likely lead them to be damaged, except for one headpiece which I found to be my favourite. It was a tight fit, a silverite circlet that pushed my hair aside, came down the bridge of my nose and my temples, it was both attractive and beautiful. I recall wearing it to the Qunari compound as Hawke spoke to the Arishok - Isabel commented on it before escaping off onto the dock, telling me it was ‘pretty’. Fylo certainly found that amusing.



I stood beside Hawke as she discussed Javaris’ folly with the Arishok, stepping in when Marian could no longer understand him. And I then witnessed my first real fear in regards to Fylo. She walked past Marian and I, up the stairs, and to the Arishok. He had to lean down to speak with her, and.. I admit, when he put his hands upon her I was shaking. What was I witnessing? The Arishok lifted Fylo up and sat her on his knee. She gestured quickly, speaking to him, but could he understand her? I could see what she was telling him, she was talking about the Tal-Vashoth who helped us to kill the Tal-Vashoth, and how he was very nice, and didn’t want to rape and pillage the way the Tal-Vashoth seemed to enjoy. She talked to him about his confusion and disgust for us, and I was surprised.



She began to explain that our group was seperate from the rest of Kirkwall, we lived inside it but not amongst them. We all had our roles. And this is when I knew the Arishok could understand her, as he then asked her what her own role was. She had her back to us now, I could not see what she answered. The Arishok dismissed us, and we realised we’d have to hunt down Javaris.



Madness. We left.



We did hunt Javaris, who led us to a rather mad Elf woman who was poisoned by her gas made from the stolen recipe. It was a good thing we did, but Fylo seemed upset. She seemed more upset when Marian, Anders, and Merrill went to help Feynriel. I had suggested we kill the mage outright, as he was a Dreamer and this was powerful and strange, and Fylo looked at me like I had suggested we kill her. I did not suggest this again. Feynriel awoke to Tranquility, which made Fylo a bit sad.



She confused me.



Marian Hawke was my best friend, I was used to her being nearby though I was entirely unused to her new attentions, her flirting and propositioning. I am now ashamed to admit, I bedded her. There was no love behind it, no tenderness behind my touch or hers, I knew she saved love for Merrill, the foolish Blood Mage we allowed to live when we slayed others. Marian’s touch felt like dirt, I did not like it. It felt like betrayal. Marian, cheating on the lover who lived in her home... I disliked it.



So did Fylo. She seemed saddened by this. Perhaps she really was fond of me, I did not know. It would be quite a while before I found out. Slaver Hunters began to find us, and we dispatched many of them. The trail led to Hadriana, and I was more frightened than I let on. We were going to pursue her soon.



Of course this had to happen while It was my turn to keep Fylo. You see, she did not have her own home, instead spending two weeks in ours. She had been kept by Merrill previously, and the Elf mage managed to keep direction as she brought the child. Fylo looked happy as she walked through my door with her sack of clothes, and hugged me loosely. Ruffing her shaggy hair, I shut the door behind her.



Immediately she flew into a flurry of signs and gestures that I had to struggle to follow along with, somesuch about playing cards with Varric and losing an entire bar of chocolate and a half-sovereign to the dwarf, about Merrill teaching her how to cook, Aveline trying to train her, she seemed so happy. Each of us gave her something, some sort of knowledge.



Marian taught her how to survive. Varric taught her how to read, write, and gamble. Merrill taught her how to cook and clean. Isabela taught her how to fight. Aveline taught her how to use swords. Sebastian taught her how to shoot... I wasn’t sure what Anders taught her at the time., or if she even spent time with him.



I know now, of course.



I dislike Anders.



I was unsure of myself, as I had nothing to teach her. I felt as if I were of less use than the others because of this, but I’m sure I gave her something at that age. She was nearly sixteen now, still so small but definitely becoming a woman. I found it enticing - what manner of monster am I?



We prepared to meet Hadriana. Fylo made sure she came along. I am glad she did.



I argued with Marian about killing Hadriana, about taking in Orana. They left me to my misery, my indecision, and walked away.  Fylo did not. I am ashamed - she tried to stay my hand, to give me time to hear Hadriana speak of my sister... She put her little hand on me to stop me and I phased through her, broke some bones. I was ashamed. Disgusted. Hadriana loved it, but surprise was mine, now. Fylo lunged toward Hadriana, a faint glow to her hand as she channeled magic through her body, the Spirit Energies tore Hadriana to pieces.



I had taught her to fear her power. What a fool I was.



I took Fylo home. This is the second time I had injured her accidentally, clearly I was not to be trusted with her. I wonder if the others knew, that she was a mage? I was disgusted. I had freely thrown my hatred of mages around, is that why it was hidden from me? My dear one was a mage, and I had harmed her yet again. What was wrong with me? She stroked her broken arm, bone knitting together as she healed herself, as she lay in my arms. I leaned my head back against the chair.



My dear Fylo.



Soon after this - not so soon, perhaps, as it was nearly a year, the Qunari had enough. They razed the city, killing or converting everyone they could, it was a mess. I feared for my little mage friend, and I could not stand to assist Hawke as she assaulted the threat. I collected Fylo up and we left the city.



I took her to a cave on the Coast, we cleared it of spiders and made a little camp. Fylo had grown since we first found her. She was petite, still. Slim, but with gently curving hips and perky breasts. It might have been the campfire that made her so beautiful. She was nearly of age, soon I would be frightening young men on her behalf, I thought.



I became lost in thought, barely noticed lips at my neck. I startled, scolded  her, and collapsed into my bedroll. The want filled me, but I could not dally with a girl I knew as a child, not while she still could be called one.



Two days later, Marian gave me the all-clear.



I suppose the lot of us should feel happy, serving our Champion. I found it a bit silly.



Years come and go. The unrest between Templar and Mage raised to a fever pitch, some of the Templar’s punishments even I would not wish upon them. I feared for Fylo. She was not dangerous, I knew this, the little spirit-healer who was so tiny. Not frail, though, not since she’d come to us.



Hard to believe it had been eight years. She was twenty by now, an adult, a beautiful young woman. Still she spent two weeks here and there and I cherished my two weeks more than anything.



There was a particular night, the lot of us had been playing Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man. Isabela had suggested Strip Diamondback, but I know how terrible Fylo is at that game and I wasn’t keen on everyone seeing my dear little one in her smallclothes. Well, it was this night that I was to meet someone. All those years ago, Hadriana gave information about my sister. I do not care to know her name, just know that she betrayed me to Danarius. And Hawke! She was willing to give me back... I was disgusted and downtrodden.



It was time to give up.



Head turned down, I walked behind the Magister and his entourage, defeated and betrayed. Why would Marian give me back?! I was...I can’t even describe the feeling. And I didn’t have to.



Once we had left the pub, a well-placed charge put me out of control of my body. Conscious as I might have been, I couldn’t move. I could only watch.



Fylo.



She held a blade that roared with a blue-black Spirit Flame, and Danarius crumbled at her feet. I looked around. Dead, the entire entourage. Danarius. All dead.



Marian and the others were behind her, they looked confused. Fylo turned to them, scowling, and I’ll be damned but the little one carried me away.



My sister was dead, I did not have to ask.



Fylo deposited me in my bed, chewing her lip as she fussed over me. I heard speech, it could not have come from her. Something about being switched off, I didn’t understand until her body was against mine, until she kissed me with so much longing, I realised she’d loved me all the time, since meeting she was My Dear Little One.



The words WERE her own. She could speak? Her voice was like bells in my ear, sweet and soft but I could not focus on them for all the attention I recieved at the behest of her little lips, kissing me always. The buckles and laces that held my clothes to me were simply done away with, so easily removed and I saw something strange and peculiar, as Fylo’s girded skirts and men’s shirt excused themselves from her body.



The design of my circlet, the one she made that I wore so often, was tattooed onto her belly, the same blue-white channels of lyrium inlay that I knew all too well. Had she done this? I rolled her over, kissed the markings. I did not know if I were capable of delicacy, of being gentle. It had been years since I recieved any of such attention, but the girl beneath me had no care for that, kissing and roaming hands and bites and moisture, I lost my mind with her. I ached. She guided me to her most sacred place.



I know it hurt her, I slowed myself, steadied, I wished no undue pain as I made love to her, my Fylo.



In today’s time, she is the Lamb and I am the Wolf, and we shall never part. Even Hawke fears us, and one day she shall be our final mark.



The Champion of Kirkwall, slayer of Templars and Trader of Slaves, Betrayer of Friends... you will not stand against Fylo and Fenris Nath’Laren.



Your glorious downfall awaits.