At Your Side (A Dragon Age fanfiction)

The Barber and His Wife

Finding himself on the streets of Hightown in the small hours before dawn, Fenris shivered, the nighttime cold too much for his northern blood. To make matters worse, there was a dusting of snow on the ground, each step with his bare feet like walking on knives. He accepted the pain as no more than his due, drawing his thoughts firmly away from the woman he'd left behind him. He put one foot in front of the other, not entirely sure where he was going. His own mansion no longer seemed the haven of refuge it once had—he didn't trust himself to be alone right now. If he was alone, the desperate begging of his heart to be allowed to turn back might overcome the more considered judgment of his mind that he had no right to burden her with the imperfect love of a damaged elf.

He left Hightown behind him, following a familiar path into Lowtown. He tugged on the heavy door of the pie shop, hoping she'd be open this early. To his relief, the door opened easily.

Inside, the familiar figure with her ridiculous curls was conspicuously absent, no pie crust draped over the board. But Drury sat in the corner, hunched over a tankard of gin. He looked up in surprise as the newcomer came in. Drury's eyes narrowed, then widened as he recognized Fenris. Relaxing, Drury allowed himself a small smile. "Welcome, lad. What brings you here at this hour?"

Fenris shook his head. He didn't know what to say—how to explain that he had just ripped his own heart out of his chest. Strange, he reflected, that he used to pity those whose literal heart he tore from their bodies. Now he envied them; the pain would have to be less if his heart simply wasn't there anymore.

"Have some gin, then?"

He shook his head. Definitely, gin didn't seem the right idea.

"Take a seat by the fire, lad," Drury said, shifting his foot off the extra stool and nudging it in Fenris's direction. "You look half-frozen."

Fenris took the stool gratefully, rubbing his arms and staring miserably into the flames.

"What's that in your hand, there?"

In his hand? He looked with surprise at the heavy piece of red velvet, the tie to her bedcurtain. He'd forgotten he was holding it. And in a flash, it was as though he was in her bedroom again, kneeling there as she rose from the bed to take the curtains down. He bit his lip against the groan that threatened to escape.

"Seems like you've had a long night," Drury remarked. He lit a pipe, sitting back in the corner. "If I were to hazard a wager, perhaps it's a woman?"

Fenris looked up, startled, meeting the other man's dark eyes.

Drury smiled. "It's not that hard to tell. I was young once, too."

"I have never been young," Fenris said bitterly, turning the velvet band over in his hands. "For a moment, I thought perhaps ..." He thought of the brief flash of happiness he'd experienced as he lay beside her. In that instant, he'd felt the future open before him. Now it was gone again, darkness ahead of him to match that behind him.

"These dreams are difficult to leave behind." Drury looked at Fenris, his eyes inscrutable. "Shall I tell you a story?"

Fenris shrugged. Listening to someone else's story struck him as marginally more interesting than remaining mired in the abrupt ending of his own.

Drury sighed. "Once, many years ago, I was a barber, as I am now. But then ... ah, I was young. And she was—beautiful."

"She?"