Fenris stepped through the door to his so called home. He heard distant voices, and froze in place. He listened, gripping the mantle of his sword.

Two giggling voices, and one he knew too well.

His heartbeat rate increased.

He walked swiftly towards the sound. Unsurely, he stopped near the ajar opened door.

"Look, this one is prettier!" A childish, girlish voice spoke in an obvious protest.

"But this one matches the wine stains on the walls," the boyish voice answered patiently.

"They're both beautiful, just put them somewhere daddy would see them, yeah?" Hawke's voice echoed through the room.

He stiffed. Daddy?

"They're just flowers anyway. They will die, there's not enough sunlight in this house," the boy spoke maturely.

"Daddy needs the sunlight to have a healthy skin," the girl said cleverly.

"Daddy doesn't like the sun. He's a vampire," Hawke teased, and the children giggled.

"Is that why he loves you, Mummy? Because you are a blood mage?" The girl asked innocently.

Hawke scoffed. "Honey, he loves blood magic as much as he loves mages."

Fenris made a bitter face.

"But he loves you, doesn't he?" The boy asked now shyly.

The mother giggled. "Oh, I don't know about that. I mean, he ran away from me twice."

"Maybe you just need a leash," the boy suggested.

Brilliant, Fenris thought. They're as mouthy as their mother.

"A wolf on a leash . . . Perhaps chains. Yeah, that's some good thoughts for a night," she said lovingly.

"Daddy doesn't like chains. He used to be a slave," the girl noticed.

Fenris found himself dumbfounded. How did these children knew so much about him? Why is Hawke here? How did she know where to find him?

"Fenris, please, I can smell your tasty lyrium from a mile," Hawke whispered, popping her head through the frame of the door.

"Daddy!" The girl screamed, running to the elf and throwing her small body at him. Fenris flinched, wave of pain shooting through his muscles. He gasped.

"A mage . . ." He said, through gritted teeth.

"Me too," the boy said, stepping forward. He was too awkward to meet his fathers' eyes.

Hawke pulled both Fenris and her daughter in a tight embrace.

"Awhh, honey, we have missed you," she said lovingly, causing his body to tense. The sweet sensation of her magic relaxed his lyrium markings.

Images flushed in front of his eyes.

He saw the night they attempted sex for the second time, even though it was an agony to him on the first try, and resulted in him leaving her.

Hot breath on his neck, her tongue meeting the delicate skin . . . The lyrium shone brightly as she kissed it, her eyes carefully tracking each marking. Her soft fingertips glowed, and a familiar tingling of her magic was pressed to him. She cast a spell, and they were connected since then. His markings were filled with her magic, and gave him strength through the darkest times. It hurt when she hurt. Sometimes he even felt emotions he did not ignite within himself. Often when he felt fear, or anger, the feeling would quickly pass, and turn into warmth tingling in his stomach. At other times, he could even swear he had felt a touch on his skin when there was nothing. Rarely, he felt weak, as if someone sucked the lyrium out of him. He suspected it was Hawke trying to support herself during battles.

However, only once he was in a complete agony. It was . . . ten years ago. Nine months after their shared night, the night of their bonding and unique connection.

He gasped, pulling away from her. They were his children.

"Quit your dirty tricks, mage," he warned, shooting Hawke a warning look. He knew she triggered the following memory with her magic.

"You love them," she whispered, gripping his arm. His marking were set on fire by her fingers. The sensation was so intense it made him dizzy. He hadn't had a direct contact with her in. . . ten years.

"How does it feel, Fenris?" She whispered into his ear, touching his neck with her palm, tracing the lyrium with a finger. He stiffed a moan, and swallowed hardly. The hot feeling in his neck began to slowly move down into his trousers.

He resisted her with great effort. "Your blood magic won't influence my mind," he slapped her hands off of him, only causing her to smirk.

"You know it's not magic that works on you this way," she brushed her finger against his hand. "You know it's me," she added, looking up seductively. "I am influencing Your mind, but not by magic, my love."

His lip trembled, so he bit the inside of his cheek. Reluctantly, he took her face in his hand, and looked at her with sorrow. She looked older, more mature. Her obvious, laughing personality had left slight wrinkles on her eyes and cheeks as she smiled warmly at him. She had scars he did not know. He did not know where they came from, or how long they were there. He hated not knowing what she's been through, what kind of mother she had turned out to be.

After a moment, he added, "A word?" His eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

She smirked. "A word? With whom? Ooh, did you miss me that much it can't even wait until tonight?" She teased, and he growled in a response. "Firstly, have a look at what your children brought for you," she said loudly, then lowered her voice to a whisper. "Pretend you like it," she grinned, showing him a thumbs up.

Fenris, exhausted, stepped into the room. The first thing he've noticed were the two, giant plants standing in each corner of his room. They didn't suit the gloomy atmosphere, and stood out horribly. The plants were colourful and their pots had drawings on them.

Fenris looked at Hawke with a lifted eyebrow.

"I told them you're not a fan of flowers," she shrugged.

Fenris sat on the sofa chair next to the fireplace.

"Felandris ignited the fire. Isn't it wonderful?" She muffled her son's hair playfully.

Fenris looked on with distaste. "How did you find me?" He asked.

"Uncle Varric-" the girl had started, but Hawke nudged her in her belly.

"Uhm, I mean, your love to Mum attracted her to you," she quickly corrected herself.

"Varric. Of course," he squinted his eyes.

"Don't blame him. I've read his letters when he wasn't looking." Hawke sat next to him, crossing legs.

Fenris looked at the girl. She was dressed in a black tight dress. Her face was flushed with scarlet blush that matched her tanned complexion. Her eyes were big, elven, of the purest blue he has ever seen. He was curious, leaning forward. He reached out his hand, and the girl walked forward with a wide grin. He slowly tucked her long, black hair behind her ears. . . that were slightly pointed.

"What . . . What are you called?" He asked with a difficulty.

"Bethany," she said pridefully. Fenris' heart sank a little. "After Mummy's sister." He looked at Hawke. Her eyes were sad and tired, yet still held the same spark he had fallen in love with.

Fenris moved his hands back, and laid back in his chair. Then, moved his eyes to the boy, and saw a younger version of himself.

"And you?" He asked in a cold tone.

"Felandris."

Hawke placed a hand on the elf's shoulder. He immediately shifted, and slowly took it off.

"I will have to speak to you, Hawke. In private," he furrowed his eyebrows, standing up.

"OK folks, bed time," she chirped, clapping her hands. The children moaned, and obediently followed her out the room. Fenris clasped a hand over his mouth, thinking.

Taking a bottle of wine into his cold hands, he sat back down, and opened it. However he could not bring himself to drink. So he just threw it against the door, scarlet liquid staining the dirty walls.

Hawke ran into the room. "Fenris! How could you!" She scanned the floor and shot him an angry look. "How could you not wait for me," she added, pretending to be sobbing. "I thought throwing objects against the wall was our shared thing."

Fenris got up, and walked up to the woman, pushing her backwards, her back slamming against the wall, air slightly knocked out of her.

"It is indeed," he smirked, placing a passionate kiss on her lips.

His markings reacted with igniting a warm feeling inside him.

She kissed back, taking his face in her hands. "Mm, see, that's better," she smiled, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

There was something different in her eyes that Fenris detected. And it wasn't good.

His expression changed as he noticed it. "What is troubling you, my heart?"

She hesitated. "You'll take care of them, yeah?" There was something in her voice he didn't like. As if there was more to it.

"I wouldn't know how . . . Do you wish to live together? Are you worried I'd decline?" He stroked her face, looking into her blue eyes.

"I'm like a plague. You can't get rid of me," she laughed nervously.

"So what is it?"

"I need you to take care of them. That's all."

"I don't understand. Do you intend to leave without them?"

She licked her lips. "I have some things to sort out. I won't lie, it's dangerous. I don't want them to get hurt, and if something happened to me . . of course it wouldn't, I'm invincible, and I could easily leave them with Varric, but you are their father. They need you."

He let everything sink in. "Hawke-"

"They don't cause trouble. Bethany is fascinated with magic and creatures - especially dragons, and Felandris enjoys reading and writing. Easy enough?"

"I won't let you go again," he said, gripping her hand tightly.

She laughed quietly. "You're making it sound like we won't see each other anymore."

He knew they wouldn't.

Neither would their children.