A/N: Yes, this is one of those damned "Five Times This Didn't Happen and One Time it Did" fics, but I hope you'll forgive me for using the format. I'm OTP'ing Fem!Hawke/Fenris so hard right now, this fic is basically writing itself while I'm just trying to live my life. XD I hope you all enjoy this first part, and the parts that will follow.

Spoilers only through Act 1 in this part. If you've met Fenris and have spoken to him once at his home, this won't spoil anything for you. (And yes, I've veered just a bit from the way the scene plays out in the game, for narrative purposes.)

I.

It was a hot night, and she was unable to fall asleep in that stifling, cramped shack, so she'd crept to the corner where her mabari rested, and quietly asked him if he fancied a bit of a walk. He'd been so ecstatic, she'd barely gotten him outside before he could wake the rest of the family. The poor dog was always cooped up in that dreadful hovel, it was no wonder.

At first, she just wandered a bit aimlessly, the mabari running ahead to explore all the nooks and crannies of the city's slums. She considered stopping by the Hanged Man for a chat with Varric, or to see what Isabela was up to, but her hound seemed far too happy to be outside. So she opted to keep walking, thinking she might go to Darktown to keep Anders company while he worked late into the night, healing the poorest and most infirm of Kirkwall's citizens.

She wasn't really aware that they were crossing the bridge that led to Hightown until she was staring at the stately columns and sprawling mansions all covered in creeping ivy. The smell of some night-blooming flower filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a long moment before taking in the grandeur before her. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. This was where her mother belonged, where she should have been able to return when they had docked here, over a year ago.

She shook her head, annoyed with herself. It had been a stupid idea, coming here. She didn't even know why she had. Maybe it was the Amell blood in her, leading her home.

Her eyes flitted across the courtyard then, to one of the estates. Until very recently, it had been abandoned. She could see flickering light in one of the second-floor windows - the fireplace was lit. Whether or not that meant he was still awake, she had no idea.

She didn't know why she was even bothering to wonder. They weren't friends, not even kind of. He'd called Bethany an "it" the first time they'd met, and they'd all but gotten into a screaming match in this very courtyard about mages right then and there. Well, all right, she had screamed. He had just responded with cold, calm insolence. Which was just as bad, if you asked her, maybe even worse. His surliness since then had failed to do much to raise her estimation of him.

But Varric had insisted that his help might be useful for the expedition - much to the chagrin of Anders. Bethany, surprisingly, didn't seem to think too poorly of the elf at all. They weren't friends by any stretch, but they seemed to coexist quite peacefully. In spite of her own misgivings about him, she trusted Varric implicitly,

so she'd allowed him to bring the elf along on some of the more dangerous odd jobs they acquired, knowing full well that one more sword arm was never a bad idea.

Marian herself had never really spoken to him, not since the night they'd met. Funny how she hadn't felt particularly moved to get to know the elf who'd looked at her sister as though she were a monster. It didn't matter that Bethany had seemed to forgive and forget. As far as Marian was concerned, a slight against her family was a slight against her, personally. And he had never seemed all that thrilled at the prospect of speaking to her - "mage-lover" that she was - so she'd decided that it was probably best if they just kept to themselves as much as possible.

Still, she had wondered about him, about the way he always seemed to be on the alert, the way he was constantly looking over his shoulder, no matter where they were. There was a sadness about him, too, the way he carried himself - hunched over, never standing at his full height. She was sure he had a story to tell. She would just not be the one to hear it.

She whistled for her dog then, ready to head back to Lowtown and the filthy hovel she now called home.

It wasn't her mabari who came around the corner then, however. It was a group of six men - six armed men. Fantastic. She started to reach for the daggers at her back, but realized it was futile. She might be a good fighter, but there was no way she and her dog - wherever he was - could get out of this fight without serious injury. Taking a deep breath, she thought she might try talking her way past this particular group - surely they couldn't all be out for blood.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to let me and my hound pass, would you?" she asked, keeping her voice as bright as she could.

"It'll cost you," said one of the men, his tone menacing.

Shit, Marian thought. There was no way she was going to get out of this one. And there was no way she could take on six armed men with just her two daggers. Why hadn't she listened when Aveline and Varric told her how stupid it was to take walks around town at night? Why did she always have to be so damned stubborn?

She wasn't a coward, but she also wasn't an idiot. One woman against six men - not a fair fight no matter where you were from. She needed to distract them, then run.

"I don't have much coin on me," she said. "Fifty silvers, that's all. And you can have it." She fumbled with the leather pouch she kept tied at her belt, where she knew she had one of those weird smoking potions that the dwarves made, and tossed it at the leader. She heard the glass shatter on the ground and within seconds, the surrounding area was incased in a thick, putrid-smelling fog.

Marian held her breath so as not to inhale too much of it, remembering how Varric had said it caused disorientation and confusion. Her eyes were watering, and she could hear the sounds of the enraged men. She had to get out of here before the fog's effects wore off, but the problem was, she couldn't remember which way she was supposed to be running.

Through the haze, she could see one of the figures lunging toward her. She reached for her daggers, prepared to at least go down swinging, but someone grabbed her shoulders roughly from behind. "Inside, now," a voice growled in her ear as the assailant's hands pulled her backwards into a building and slammed the door shut behind them.

She jerked away from her unseen foe and reached for her daggers. One-on-one, she could handle.

"Hawke."

She whirled around to face her attacker then, daggers forgotten for one shocked moment.

"Fenris?"

The elf was standing there, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. "Care to tell me what this is all about?"

Marian closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear the last remnants of the fog from her mind. "I couldn't sleep. It was too hot, too cramped in that shack, I needed some air. So I came for a walk. I don't know how I ended up in Hightown, I didn't set out … anyway. Those guys showed up, and I knew there was no way I was going to be able to get past them, so I used one of Varric's flasks. I guess I breathed too much in, because I got confused, and well …" She shrugged and trailed off. She was babbling now. It should be a simple thing, thanking him for his help, but the words were stuck in her throat for some reason.

His expression didn't change, but his eyes searched her face, as if he were assessing her for injury. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his tone the same it would be if he were inquiring about the weather.

"No, I'm fine," she said.

"You shouldn't be walking alone at night," he said, and though the words were those of a concerned friend, the way he said it felt cold. It made her bristle. Why even bother helping her if he'd just rather she be found dead in a ditch somewhere anyway?

"I know that," she said coolly, arching an eyebrow at him. "And I wasn't alone. My dog was with me. Though … I don't know where he got off to." At that exact moment, her mabari came bounding around the corner toward her. She knelt down "Oh, thank the Maker you're all right! What brought you here, though, huh, boy?"

"They say mabari are smarter than humans," Fenris said, shrugging, and heading off through the archway in the foyer.

Marian's jaw dropped at his insult, and she hated that he was getting the last word here, so she followed him. Her eyes widened a bit as she looked around at the place, still as dusty and cobwebby and downright disgusting as the night he'd first moved in here. "Ooh, I love what you've done with the place," she muttered under her breath.

"No one's forcing you to stay," he said, not turning to look at her.

"Right, no one, except for the very bad men right outside your door. And! For what it's worth … I didn't ask you to drag me in here! I was handling the situation!"

She swore she heard him chuckle a bit at that. She made a face at the back of his head. It wasn't fair, the way he could just make her so angry while he just stood there being Mr. Calm and Collected all the time. Honestly, it was infuriating. She stomped up the rest of the stairs, making sure to make as much noise as possible.

Yes, she was being petty, and she didn't really have a reason too, except that she thought it might annoy him enough to drop the stoic act.

He entered the study and crossed the room to stand near the fireplace. She paused in the doorway and looked around. Just as filthy as the rest of the manor. She didn't know why, but suddenly, she felt bad about it. He hadn't even tried to make it more livable.

Her eyes narrowed as she noticed some shards of glass on the floor against the far wall. There was a thick red puddle gathering there, and for a brief moment, she thought he'd hurt himself. Closer inspection, however, revealed the truth. She crossed the room, shaking her head. One of the shards of glass on the floor was larger than the rest, and bore part of a label.

"Agreggio …?" she read, brows knitting.

He glanced over at her, and his face fell. He was … dismayed. But at what? At himself? At her, for prying?

"Agreggio Pavali," he said tiredly. "There are six bottles of that in the cellar. Danarius used to have me pour it for his guests. Said my appearance intimidated them."

She regarded him, cocking her head to the side. Aside from the markings on his skin, and the seemingly permanent dour expression, there didn't seem to be anything terribly off-putting about Fenris's appearance. It was only when he talked that the real disagreeableness kicked in.

"I can't imagine why they'd be put off," she said. She hadn't really meant to say it, not like that. But she'd never really been much for the "thinking before speaking" thing that her mother was always on about.

Fenris's eyes shot to her face then and he looked at her, bewildered, for a moment. "I'll … take that as a compliment," he said finally, though his tone was unsure.

She shrugged and nudged the bits of broken glass with her toe. She sighed affectedly. "Well, what a waste," she said lightly, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, hoping to dispel some of the awkwardness that her last comment had left hanging in the air. "Now what are you going to offer me to drink?"

"There's more if you're really interested," he told her.

She rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. "Perish the thought. How else would you redecorate the walls?"

He laughed then, and it was loud and honestly amused, and unlike anything she'd ever heard from him - lovely, really, a lovely sound, and it transformed his face into something else. Something real. She blinked in disbelief and then smiled a bit to herself. It was something, at least.

He sighed heavily then, and gestured toward the mess at her feet. "I've wanted to leave my past behind. But it won't stay there. Tell me, have you ever wanted to return to Ferelden?" It startled her, this sudden confession, his sudden interest in her. They'd never really talked before.

She walked over to the only chair in the room and sat down, folding her hands in her lap. After a moment, he sat down on one of the long wooden benches across from her, and regarded her as he waited for her answer.

"I've thought about it," she said honestly. "Of course I have. I grew up in Ferelden. It will always be my home."

"The Blight is over," Fenris said. "You could rebuild what you lost. Do you truly not want to?"

Marian shifted a bit, uncomfortable under his intense gaze. The truth was that she didn't know, not really . Her family was here now, that's all that mattered to her. "My family is here. My mother came from Kirkwall, all our heritage is here."

He seemed to think about that for a moment, and then nodded. "A place to put down roots," he said. "I understand. Still, to have the option, must be gratifying."

She leaned forward in her chair, overcome with an urge to know more about this man. She'd kept him at arm's length for months now, because she'd thought him cantankerous and because she found his views on mages to be wholly abhorrent. But there was a sadness there, in the way he talked about her life, and the fact that she had choices. Almost as though … as though he'd never had any. And he seemed willing enough to talk to her now.

Maybe she could be the one to hear his story, after all.

"Have you been on the run for very long, Fenris?"

His eyes locked with hers then, and she suddenly felt lost. There was such sadness there, so much more than a man as young as he should have ever had to deal with. She fought off an urge to reach out and touch him … she wasn't sure why she even wanted to, and she was also quite certain that that sort of gesture would not go over well.

"Three years now. Danarius has ways of finding me - perhaps it's the markings? Whatever the means, it never takes him long to follow. This is the first time I've given him reason to pause." He looked at her then, his mouth quirked upward slightly. "I suppose there are advantages in numbers."

"Haven't you ever sought help before?"

"Hirelings, when I could steal the coin. Never anyone of substance. Until you," he added quietly. "Danarius will not give up, however. I will await his return."

"What if he doesn't come looking for you, though? What will you do then?"

His answer was instantaneous, his expression firm. "Then I will go to him. I will not live with a wolf at my back."

She nodded, having expected no less from him. And she couldn't honestly say she wouldn't do the same, were she in his position. What must it be like, to constantly be looking over your shoulder. She understood, now, a little, why he constantly seemed to be on edge, always looking over his shoulder.

"Sounds like the right idea to me," she said.

"I doubt it will come to that," Fenris told her.

"Do you know where he is now?" she asked carefully, not wanting to anger him or cause him to shut down on her, not now, not when she was finally starting to understand him a bit.

"I imagine he's returned to Minrathous. I dare not enter the city while he still lives, though. It's better to wait until he leaves his fortress, attack from a fortified position." He seemed to be talking more to himself, then, and Marian didn't say anything. He looked at her, and shook his head a bit. "Don't worry. I do not expect your help when that day comes."

"Fenris …"

"Though I wouldn't turn it down." Their eyes met again, and this time, neither of them rushed to look away.

"Do you intend to stay here … in Kirkwall, I mean?" she asked after a moment.

"I haven't decided. For now, it's as good a place as any. I would return to Seheron if I could … but there is no life for me there."

Her brow furrowed at this new information. She didn't know why she had just assumed he was from Tevinter … just because he'd been a slave there … slaves have to come from somewhere, didn't they? "Seheron? Is that … that's where you're from?"

"So they tell me." It was a short answer, and the coldness was creeping back into his voice. She hated to hear that again.

"Were you very young when you left?"

"Perhaps."

She frowned. Didn't he remember? She was afraid to ask, though, afraid to undo anything good that might have come from this conversation. She finally felt like she was beginning to understand this man, and to appreciate why he was the way he was. She felt sorry for him, but it wasn't pity. He just seemed … so lost, so lonely, like he'd never really had a place. And she hadn't been exactly welcoming to him before.

She took a deep breath. "You know, you've been … a lot of help these past few months, Fenris. I know we didn't exactly get off on the right foot with each other, and some of that is my fault. I … I tend to judge too harshly. You've … proven yourself to be a worthy ally, and even Bethany says you're not all bad, and she's the one who should be holding a grudge," she laughed lightly. "Just … if you're looking to start a life …" she trailed off when she felt his eyes on her again, and shifted nervously in her seat. "You could stay."

"I could see myself staying," he said, his voice quiet. "For the right reasons."

She looked toward the window then, and started when she saw that the sky outside had begun to lighten. How long had she been sitting here in his study, talking to him? It seemed only minutes had passed since he'd pulled her inside, away from the men on the street.

"I should … thank you," she said. "For your assistance earlier. It was stupid of me to get myself into such a situation, and if you hadn't been around … well. Just. Thank you."

"I'd say that makes us even, then," he replied, and she quirked an eyebrow at him. "I've been meaning to thank you again, for your help with the hunters. If I'd known Anso would find me a woman so capable, I might've asked him for help sooner."

His voice had taken on that formal, clipped tone again, and she couldn't help but grin at it. "You sound like you're about to ask me for a loan," she said jokingly.

"Well," he said, casting a disparaging eye around the room. "This mansion does require a lot of upkeep."

She laughed. "Oh, I can see that," she said, wrinkling her nose a bit. She cast another look out the window, and sighed inwardly. "I should … they'll worry if they wake up and find me gone, that's all. I … thank you, again. It was … well. Thank you."

His eyes flickered over to the window, and she could see that he was just as surprised as she had been to see dawn breaking. He stood up as she rose from her chair. "Will you be all right getting home?" he asked.

She smiled. "We'll be fine," she said, nodding her head in the dog's direction. She once again fought the urge to reach out and touch him. She needed to stop that. He might not be as vile as she previously thought, but there were still many things about him that she didn't know. He still thought mages were less than human, and when you came from her family, that mindset just … didn't sit well.

She headed for the door, mabari in tow. She had just reached the top of the staircase when he appeared in the doorway for the study. "Hawke," he said, and she turned around. "Perhaps I'll … practice my flattery, for your next visit? With any luck, I'll become better at it." And then, just as soon as he'd appeared in the doorway, he disappeared, back into the study.

Marian blinked. Was that … had he just …

Oh, Maker.

She stood there, frozen on the stairwell for several minutes. She considered going back into the study and asking him to clarify … but no.

Some other time, perhaps.