A/N: Now that I read over this again, Fenris seems terribly OC. But if you want fluffy, not-so-broody-all-the-time Fenris, then read on, I suppose.

This series is updated rather sporadically, and is the companion series of Rivalry. I have more ideas for this one than that one, so...

Anyway, enjoy!


~ Merrill & Fenris: Hair ~

There was a rock in the way. Merrill tripped. In panic, she flailed an arm out wildly, hitting Fenris in the head. He grunted. His hair was soft.

"Ow!" Merrill fell on the hard stone ground. She stood up shakily, stumbling a bit. "Oh. Did I hit you, Fenris?"

"Yes," the broody warrior muttered, rubbing the side of his head.

"Ohh, my. I'm so sorry!"

He looked at her, expressionless. "It's fine. Just be more careful."

He turned back around and they continued walking. Merrill pursed her lips. Her eyes darted from Fenris to Bethany, to Hawke and back to Fenris. Hawke and Bethany had dark hair. So did Merrill. But Fenris's hair was... different. White. Like old people hair.

She cleared her throat timidly. "Umm... Fenris?"

Fenris gave her his customary sideways glance. "What?"

"How old are you?"

He stopped and turned to face the young elf. Merrill looked up at him expectantly, her large eyes glittering. He chuckled despite himself. "I would rather not answer that."

"Ohh, really?" She frowned. "But if I don't know how old you are, I can't tell what happened to your hair."

"...My hair?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yes. It's white."

"I know that," Fenris said, unconsciously reaching up a hand to feel his hair.

"It's like the hair color of wise, old people. Like my keeper's."

He coughed. "Erm. I'm not that old."

Merrill cocked her head. "So why is your hair like that?"

"I... don't know."

"But – wait, really? You actually don't know?"

Fenris sighed. "Merrill, with the way you ask questions, it's no wonder no one talks to you."

Immediately he regretted saying that. She winced, as if a wound had just been reopened. The last he saw of her expression before she turned away was akin to the pout of a kicked puppy.

He glanced over her towards Hawke and Bethany, who were still walking. Merrill was walking a fair distance from them, her shoulders drooping. A knot twisted itself into his stomach – or maybe it was his heart? Fenris wasn't used to sympathy for the mage, or any mages in general. And Merrill was a blood mage, too. That made it worse, but more than anything, it made him angry.

Still, the way she dragged her feet and stared down at the ground seemed to... bother him. She was a mage, yes, and a blood mage at that. But she was also an outcast, a lonely soul, an innocent. The thought stabbed at his heart and that irritated him even more, but he relented. It wasn't worth making her an enemy.

The Hawkes had stopped and were inspecting a chest of goods. Fenris sighed heavily. If he didn't get this over with, he'd have this on his chest for a very long time. "Merrill," he called.

She didn't turn around.

"Merrill," he repeated. "Just... come here. I won't... I'm not going to hurt you."

Her eyes darted to him as she looked back. He crossed his arms, giving an upward nod to coax her over, so she stepped towards him, stopping a few feet away. "Fenris," she greeted rather nervously.

He ran a hand through a loose bunch of hair. "Look," he said, "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. You just... ask a lot of questions."

She brightened. "Really?"

"Really," he answered, sighing. "It's sometimes a bit overwhelming."

"Oh. I'm sorry." She paused. "Should I ask less questions?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I should."

"See? You knew the answer. Why did you ask?"

Merrill's eyes widened. "Oh! Well, that's... that's very smart!"

He chuckled. "Yes, it is."

A faint whistle caught their attention. Hawke was signaling them to move on. Fenris started forward at a brisk pace, thankful that was over. He wasn't accustomed to apologizing, unlike the elf he'd been speaking to.

They traveled through more back alleys and dirty roads. Weaving through the city, they finally emerged in the light. There was a rock in the way. Fenris stepped around it.

Merrill tripped.

Her flailing arm slammed into Fenris's back. She landed on the hard stone ground, dazed. As the world slowly came back into focus, she noticed a tattooed hand held out in front of her.

She peered up. "Fenris?"

He nodded and offered his hand again. Merrill took it and got up. "Whew! Thanks for that," she panted cheerfully. "And, um... did I hit you?"

"Yes," he replied, wondering if the lesson she'd just learned on not asking so many questions had sunk in yet.

"Oh, dear Creators. I'm so sorry!"

Fenris chuckled. "It's fine..."

"Just be more careful," Merrill finished for him. "Got it."

She grinned at him, and for the first time, Fenris smiled a real smile back at her.