there are tales when people who had violent death would reborn as spirits both benevolent or malevolent. so fenris just want to be free from danarius and hawke is more than willing to help (and then stay somewhere close to protect this pure soul because no one deserves what hawke had)
“Begone, spirit,” the elf said. “I am no mage – and I shall makeno deals with you.”
There was no answer – not in words, not in action. Therewas, perhaps, a shift in the air, a feeling of amusement and affection, ofwarmth, and somewhere, within all that, a deep and abiding sorrow. A breezestirred his hair, and for a moment there was the tantalizing hope of a memory.Calloused fingertips, and the smell of woodsmoke and flannel. Amber.
The elf scowled, and swiped irritably at his head, shakingit and dismissing the feeling.
“Go away,” he said.
His name was Fenris. That was almost the extent of the elf’sknowledge. There used to be more.
He knew that he was a slave, the monstrous creation of amagister known as Danarius. He knew only because he was told so. Danarius washis creator, his master, his god. That was what he was told. He had understoodthat, once, they said. A more loyal monster the world had never known.
“My darling Fenris,” Danarius said, later, when he came tosee him again. “I know a part of you yet longs to return to my side.”
Fenris snarled and yanked on his chains, a dog on a leash.His master’s words rang false. His touch sparked a revulsion that Fenris couldnot explain.
“I will teach you to be obedient again,” Danarius swore.
Only when he was gone, did the spirit return – soothing hisaches, drying his tears. Angry, protective, loving. “Go away!” Fenris sobbed,even as he yearned for the comfort.
Sometimes, Fenris wanted to give in. Sometimes, the spiritwas all that kept him from it. Sometimes he hated it for it. He would rage,thrash against his chains until they bit into his skin, scream his voicehoarse.
He missed the spirit when it was gone for too long.
Fenris was longing for death, the day the strangers came.
“More locks,” the woman swore. Human, with wild, dark hair.The dwarf at her side hefted his crossbow.
“We’re clear for now,” he said. “Just be quick.”
It had been so long since he had been free, that it wasdifficult for Fenris to stand straight. A red-haired human – female, strong featured– took his weight upon herself, helping him to walk. The hall outside wasempty, and her sword was coated with blood.
“What – are you doing?” Fenris demanded, too weak to fight.
It was the dwarf who answered. He said, “What Hawke wouldhave wanted.”