A/N: Written for a promp over at DA kink meme:

F!Hawke manages to convince Ketojan not to kill himself at the end of the Shepherding Wolves quest. Instead, she takes him home with her, not knowing what else to do.

And since I managed once to protect Ketojan before the Qunari, and got to talk to him properly, I thought this deserves a chance.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just this short snippet.

Of Respect and Trust

"I think you are making a dangerous mistake with this, Hawke," spat Fenris, his marking glowing ominously in the dark. He only kept silent until they reached his house, surprisingly not wanting to argue with her before the rest of their companions but now, in the darkness of Danarius' estate his patience was at its end. He pointed at the menacing form of Qunari Saarebas, silently towering behind Hawke. "He is a weapon, a dangerous thing, for a reason."

"Yes, he's dangerous," exploded Hawke, "just like you and just like me, just like about bloody everyone!" She stepped aside, pointing at the unmoving Saarebas. "Have you seen the chains? The collar? He's dangerous, he's a slave - just like you were! I thought that of all people you would be the one to understand!"

Part of Fenris seemed to be taken aback by the ferocity, while the other part of him was refusing to leave the image he had of all people wielding magic. His mind dropped back to several hours ago when they were leading the Saarebas through the Undercity, and he followed them without needing to be told to do so. Eyes of a slave, he said. Is he looking for freedom or for a master?

"Just keep him out of my way," he growled in the end, stomping over to the master bedroom, leaving the Saarebas and Hawke alone in the atrium.

After a short moment, Hawke looked up to Saarebas. "So, uhm, Ketojan," she started, a bit unsure about how to call him. "Are you hungry?"

He growled in response, just like he did when she led him through the Darktown and asked him about something. She sighed. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I do not understand, Ketojan. Could you shake your head or nod, or possibly say what you mean?"

Ketojan was quiet for a moment before he spoke, his voice hoarse from lack of use. "I believe your people say 'I wouldn't say no to something to eat'."

Hwake smiled hesitantly. "Good. Then - let's find you something to eat then." She turned to walk to where Fenris stored food in this mansion, making a mental note to restock him on everything the next day when she noticed that Ketojan was still standing in the centre of the atrium. The realization of what's happening struck her. "Oh, sorry," she exclaimed, rushing back. "Please, follow me."

He followed after her this time, two steps behind her, his steps heavy compared to her light tread. It was slightly unnerving, to be followed by someone so huge - usually that meant trouble. This time, she thought that although unnerving, the steps were also reassuring. She asked him to sit down while she prepared him something to eat, carefully wording it as a request instead of a command.

He still followed it blindly, as if he was afraid of punishment if he did otherwise.

She got him some bread, cheese and water - until she knew what was proper for him to eat, she decided to go the safe way and give him something she noticed other Qunari eating. Well, Qunari, she thought as she watched Ketojan breaking the bread and cheese to small piece so he could pass it through the stitches in his mouth she forgot to remove sooner - kossith was the word she was looking for. If she understood it correctly, Qunari was someone who followed the Qun, while Arishok and all the people from his original crew were called kossith.

"Petrice called you Ketojan," she spoke to him once he was finished with his meal. "But I do not think that name would really suit you. How should I call you?"

Ketojan was quiet for a long time - Hawke nearly wanted to make sure he actually heard her when he finally spoke. "I was Saarebas when I was following the Qun. As a Tal-Vashoth now I do not have the purpose I had in Qun. I'm no one, so I do not have a name."

That was true, realized Hawke. Her musings were interrupted when Ketojan spoke again. "Your name - is it Hawke or something else?"

"We have, well, two names," she started explaining. "Hawke is name of my father. But the name which marks me as me is Tina. Tina Hawke."

He thought that over, falling silent once again. Being quiet seemed to be his second nature to Tina, coming from all the years he was not to speak and not to be spoken to. The stiched together lips also were not of much help when it came to talking.

"I think we should get that collar of yours off," Tina said after a while. To her it looked like Ketojan stiffened in front of her, before he controlled himself. "If you believe it wise to uncollar me, Tina Hawke," he intoned, "I will not offer any resistance."

"Good," Tina slowly nodded her head. "Good."

She motioned him to sit, as she rumaged one of the wooden boxes in the kitchen. When he took over the mansion, Fenris threw everything that belonged to Danarius (or the merchant who originally owned the place) into the boxes and placed them in the kitchen, saying that it would be wise to keep all of these things at one place he spends his time at (the other one being the master bedroom). Right now, she was looking for something what would be able to get the blasted collar off Ketojan's neck.

There. She found hammer and chisel - tools she was looking for. Hoping she wouldn't hurt the man she asked him to remain unmoving, unless she had been hurting him, of course.

Clink! Clink! Clink!

Ketojan remained unmoving through the whole ordeal when she was trying to hew the heavy collar off his neck, offering only a grumble when she managed to graze his skin with the chisel. At last, the collar fell off, leaving the saarebas without it, for the very first time since his magic manifested itself.

It was a strange feeling, one Ketojan was not sure he liked that much.

Still, Tina was unnerved about the string which sewed Ketojan's lips together. He was undoubtely used to it but to her, it seemed completely unecessary to keep his lips sewed, as she hoped to talk to him as much as she could. As he laid his head in her lap and she pulled the stitches out, she let the sense of respect, trust and ultimate feeling of belonging wash over her.

There will be time to think about what to do next later. But now, she had a Tal-Vashoth saarebas to take care of.