„Ask him!" Hawke said to the dwarf standing in front of her while polishing Bianca.

Slowly Varric was raising an eyebrow. "Why don't you ask him yourself? I don't remember you being shy, Hawke…"

She made a face and then pressed her lips together. "You know exactly why."

"Do I?" he answered innocently.

Oh, how she hated it when he did that! He knew what a moron she was when it came to social interactions, not speaking about romantic ones. Fenris and she had challenged and charged themselves for 3 years before they had finally managed to end up in one bed.

Then he had left her, and she had felt something she had never felt before: A broken heart.

Pathetic. The attack of Corypheus' dwarven followers had come right in time to escape the town for some weeks, but when she had come back and seen him again, her feelings had not changed. She was still hurt.

Confused. Understanding. In love. Furious. Sad. Everything mixed up together and knotted into a tight ball in her chest.

"Alight, Hawke, let me get this right", Varric said when she was staying silent, lost in her dark thoughts. "You want me to go to him and ask him inconspicuously why he is wearing your red ribbon till…" He deliberately let the rest of the phrase open, but she did not give him any further information about what had happened between Fenris and her. He already knew way too much about her.

So she simply nodded and forced herself to say the word she did not like to say at all, to nobody: "Please."

Varric faked a heart attack in front of her eyes when he heard her saying it, and she laughed and cursed at the same time. Then he put Bianca on the table in his room and stood up. "Alright, Hawkie. Take care of my lady while I get in touch with Broody…"

Sarah inhaled deeply when the dwarf left his room to go downstairs into the Hanged Man's bar. She had been sitting their some minutes ago herself, but then Fenris had suddenly entered the room, and she had hurried upstairs and to Varric.

She had told herself that she had wanted to talk to him anyway. But the truth was: Being away from Fenris for nearly two months had not changed anything. She was still…

Say it, Sarah, she told herself. She never had run away from anything, but this feeling was something which scared the hell out of her…

She was in love. With a man who had left her. And although she somehow understood that he had not done it because he had got what he wanted, but because of some "Fenris-Broody-Shame-Stubbornness" reasons, she had no idea what to do know and how to deal with it.

Him.

Varric already came back after some minutes, and that could be either a good or a bad sign.

"And?" she asked him.

"He told me that he does not want to talk about it. And that he will leave if I don't stop asking him."

She scowled down on him. "You haven't been subtle enough!"

Varrics eyebrows rose. "Look who's talking, Hawke! I have tried my best, but you know damn well that Broody can be stubborn…"

Her eyes became narrow. Fenris wasn't the only person who was stubborn.

Without saying anything else, she turned and went downstairs. It was time for plain-talking.

Fenris' eyes widened when he saw her approaching. For a short moment he seemed like a deer ready to flee, but then he pressed his lips together and looked down on his wine glass. She knew that he hated the wine they were offering in the Hanged Man, but after he had killed his last bottle of Aggrevio Pavalis, he had no other options to indulge in his special taste. She could not count how often she had teased him about it, while drinking a good Ferelden beer…

"Fenris!" she said and knew damn well that it sounded like a declaration of war.

"Hawke!" he answered with his damn voice which still sent a damn shiver down her spine.

Hawke. In this night he had called her for the first and only time Sarah, breathlessly and passionately, while he had been moving deep within her…

She pushed the thought to the side.

"Why are you wearing it?" she asked harshly.

His eyes narrowed. "You sent Varric to ask me!"

"Yes", she answered unashamed. "But due to the fact that you are to cowardly to tell him, I obviously have to ask you myself!"

"That's none of your business, Hawke", he barked.

"None of my business? This is my fucking ribbon!"

He stood up abruptly and started to pull it from his wrist, looking furious, but also ashamed. Heat had darkened his cheeks, and there was a slight blush on his ears as well.

Determined she watched him while doing it… and suddenly understood that she did not want him to give it back to her. When he was wearing it, she still had the hope that maybe he would…

But it was too late. With a low growl he pressed the ribbon into her hand and left the Hanged Man, not looking back.

Silently she was looking down on the ribbon, and suddenly tears filled her eyes. Hastily she blinked them away, but deep inside she was aching, even worse than before.

She was still standing where Fenris had left her when Varric appeared next to her. For once his face was serious, and his voice gentle. "He really cares for you, Hawke", he said. "But he needs more time."

"I know", she whispered. "I know."

And then she left.

In the evening she went to his mansion in Hightown, giving both of them enough time to calm down a bit. She hadn't visited him since that night, but when she knocked, she did it in the rhythm she always did, announcing him that it was her entering the building, and no slaver.

It was silent, and only a few candles were aflame. Slowly she went through the big entrance hall and upstairs to his room.

When she entered, he was sitting in front of the fireplace, his spine rigid. His green eyes were watching her warily when she approached, his face betraying nothing.

For a long moment she was simply watching him and tried for once to listen to what her mother had always told her: Her heart.

It was pounding. Heavily. It was aching. But not only because of hurt. Also – mainly – because of love.

She did not say anything when she sat down next to him. He was still watching her, even more tensely than before. When she pulled the ribbon out of her pocket, he opened his mouth to say something, but she shook her head. Then she took his hand in hers and put it back around his wrist.

His breath left his lips softly. Somehow it sounded relieved.

She wasn't sure if he realized that his fingers were stroking over the ribbon, but she saw it, and from one second to another the pain in her was fading.

She wasn't a patient woman. Had never been. But she knew that now, with him, she had to be. And she wanted to be.

Because it would be worth it. For the rest of her live.