Flipping Coins 'verse. Begins during Mark of the Assassin, late into the second third year gap. Warnings for implied attempted sexual assault. Nothing explicit, but just in case of triggers.

Bioware owns all, I'm just grateful to play in the sandbox.

Cutting

So you seduced him for the key? Of course you did." Bethany seemed intent on using their chance encounter at Duke Prosper's hunt to make up time scoring points on her big sister.

"No." Aedan glanced up at Fenris and his eyebrow of doom and repeated, "No." Holding out her finger to slow down his reaction. "Maker's Breath, Bethany."

"Then, how?"

She shrugged and widened her eyes innocently. "I had a very brief conversation about how very wonderful humans are and then I whispered something distracting and picked his pocket."

"Distracting how?" Fenris asked in that tone of his that always curled right down Aedan's spine warmly, though it often made everyone else back up a step.

"I don't recall exactly. I may not have said anything in particular. You know how my tongue gets away from me. Look, it doesn't matter. I've got it and now we just have to get the jewel. We'll be done and out in an hour. With any luck. You." She pointed at Bethany. "Stop saying things like that. Of course I did..." Hawke muttered as she walked back to Tallis.

Varric glanced at Bethany. "Really?"

"Back in Lothering, the boys would follow the swing of her braid like it was a clock pendulum. That and the look."

"The look." If Broody's voice got any drier, he'd be sand, Varric mused.

"You know the one..." Bethany turned away and then glanced back over her shoulder with one of her eyebrows cocked slightly, the hint of a smile on her face and yes, Fenris did know that look. He coughed.

Varric snorted. "Oh, yeah. I may have seen that one once or twice."

"One of those and the swish of her braid and it was, "Oh, Aedan, can I carry that or lift this or here use me for target practice." Bethany rolled her eyes. "Really, it was hard not to be embarrassed for them."

Aveline was frowning. "When did she cut her hair then? For the army?"

Bethany shook her head, smirking in a way much like her sister's. "No, it wasn't that reasonable. She came home from town one day and it was all chopped off, right at the nape. She said a noblewoman stopped her in the road and begged for it, said her hair had been just like that when she was younger and she had to have it to keep her husband's love... gave her thirteen sovereigns."

"No, I'm sorry, I really do have to write that down." Varric went digging for his chapbook in the small pack he kept to hand. Scoping out the crowd could wait.

-000-

On the way home, finally, after the battle with Leopold, Varric had to ask. "Hey, Hawke? Bethany told us after you left that you were quite the sight. All that red hair down to your knees and the boys on you like dragons on gold."

Hawke snorted. "Please! No one noticed me after Bethany blossomed. Anyway, not down to my knees. Just here." Her hand indicated her swaying hips, which Fenris was not watching as she loped down the trail in front of him.

Varric wasn't deterred. "She said a noblewoman paid you 13 sovereigns for your braid."

Sighing, she asked, "Must you know all the secrets, Varric?"

"Helps the narrative to flesh out the tale with stories of your pristine youth and stunning beauty."

Hawke chuckled, but Fenris noticed an edge to it. "Well, then. There was a noble. And he paid for my braid, leave it at that. Oh, look! Spider's nest!" She sounded entirely too happy about the creatures' sudden appearance.

-000-

It was months later, twined around her in the darkened canopy bed, Fenris was reminded of the tale. He stroked the slightly longer, sweaty strands that curled around her ear. "Why did you cut your hair?" He had imagined once or twice what it must have looked like, long and thick and regretted the loss.

"Oh, Fenris. That's all over the hills and far away, hmm?" She mumbled sleepily even as she arched back into the slide of his hand down her flank.

"Tell me," he purred into her ear. She shivered against him, sighing.

It was an odd little voice that answered him, finally. Soft and nearly monotone. "I was on my way home from market. He came up behind me. Started...talking. It scared me and I ran." Fenris tightened his arm around her waist, pressing his lips to her shoulder.

"He was fast. Caught me by that flying braid and yanked me down, off the path. I came up with my blade and took him across the throat."

Aedan shrugged a little and twisted in his arms to nestle her face in the hollow of his neck. Her breath brushed over the ladder of tattoos, there. "I picked his pocket to make it look like a robbery, cut my braid off and threw it into the woods a bit farther down the path. I was already planning to join the king's army when I was old enough. Long hair's impractical for a soldier."

The cool, staccato rhythm of her answer ended and Fenris held her against his side, and smoothed the tension out of her spine before spanning one inked wing with spread fingers. He nuzzled the top of her hair. "Your father...?" She felt the rumble of his voice in her own chest and curled into it.

"The story Bethany told you is what I told them. We were happy in Lothering. It felt safe. I didn't want to upset that. Anyway, I had 13 sovereigns and a new dagger. Though, I traded that the next time the travelling armor merchant came through. Bought the leathers I wore to Ostagar."

Shifting, she moved fluidly and up to straddle his lean hips and smiled wickedly when his hands grasped her thighs. "Come on, then. I can think of better things to do than tell old stories best forgotten."