A/N: I've been watching way too many cooking shows lately on the Food Network.
Standard Disclaimer: Bioware Rocks!
The Way to a Man's Heart
By: Emantsal
"Bethany! Whatever is your sister doing?" Leandra Hawke groused at her younger daughter as she wrapped a threadbare robe about her slender frame. Just coming from one of the hovel's two sleeping areas, she turned still sleepy eyes toward the kitchen to see her oldest daughter, Ryann, seemingly hard at work making an uncommonly large mess accompanied by the loud banging of pots and pans. Flour, eggs, and seemingly every other edible that had once resided within the cabinets was now littering the small counter space. Maker, the girl was surely possessed…
"Cooking, mother," Bethany replied, already dressed and having just come back from taking Wrex for a morning walk. "You know Ryann, mother. She picked up another stray last week and she can't help but feed him. We saw him at the Hanged Man yesterday evening and I could swear I heard the recipes begin to move around in her head. Mumbled something about him being too thin."
"Maker. Well, at least when she cooks for her friends, she makes enough to feed us, too." Leandra Hawke might not approve of her daughter's friends, or "strays" as she called them, but then the mercenary work her children were picking up around the city did pay the bills and keep food in their bellies, even if it inevitably came with the various and sundry "friends" of dubious background.
"I believe baked chicken and biscuits are on today's menu if the dead chickens and all that flour is any indication," Bethany continued, hanging her cloak on a peg by the front door. In the tiny kitchen area, the eldest Hawke child was busy cutting two large chickens up into smaller pieces and layering them into a large heavy pot. Bethany knew when she was done, she'd layer sliced carrots, potatoes, and onions over the foul, cover it with the heavy lid and place it in the fireplace coals to cook slow for most of the day. Along with the chicken, she'd whip up the most mouth watering fluffy biscuits that would melt in your mouth.
Mother and daughter were both lost in culinary day dreams when Bethany happened to notice the large basket of apples and berries sitting on the floor. Grabbing her mother's arm, she pointed it out and both women sighed audibly. If they were really lucky, Ryann would make an apple berry cobbler with a crust so flaky and buttery… "Mother… do you see what I see in the basket on the floor?" she asked, cutting sly eyes in her mother's direction.
"You don't think… This must be some new friend she'd picked up. What can you tell me about him?" she asked, pulling her youngest daughter along with her to the washroom so she could wash the sleep from her eyes.
"Well, for starters he's an elf, a crazy escaped slave from Tevinter that hates mages with a passion. Thinks we all practice blood magic and crawl into bed with demons."
"Maker… first the dwarf, then that Anders fellow. There's something strange about him, but I can't quite put my finger on it…" She shrugged and finished washing her face before continuing. "At least there's still Aveline. She's really done well for herself."
"She was there last night. Stopped by and played a few hands of Diamondback with us after her shift."
"I wish your sister wouldn't drag you into that awful place…" Leandra began her usual lecture, and as usual Bethany tuned her mother out as she poured fresh water to wash her face with. She loved her mother, but she just didn't see that Ryann was doing everything she could to keep the family afloat in the tide of refugees that had inundated Kirkwall since the blight began. Most Fereldens were looked on as not better than scum. Most lived in the sewers and scrounged for food, living day to day in a hopeless despair they wore around themselves like a burial shroud.
But not her sister. No, Ryann Dellia Hawke was carving a name for herself in this city of chains. She wouldn't let them starve. She'd take on any job if it meant they would be warm and well fed.
Yes, her sister was determined to make things better for the family. Since their father had died almost four years ago, the eldest child of Leandra and Malcolm Hawke had taken it upon herself to keep the family together. She knew it had almost killed her sister when their younger brother, Carver, was killed by an ogre as they fled Lothering. Although brother and sister didn't always get along, had in reality fought almost every day since Carver was old enough to look up at his older sister, that didn't mean there wasn't love there. They had just shown it by beating each other senseless most of the time. Maker, they had both enjoyed a good knockdown, drag out fight. With just eleven months between Ryann and the twins, Carver and Bethany, brother and older sister had always fought. Carver had never wanted to listen to his older sister… Oh she didn't want to think about Carver… She busied herself beginning the day's chores of gathering the wash that needed to be done.
Ryann Hawke looked around herself at the huge mess she'd made and sighed. Whatever in the world had possessed her to get up before dawn and begin cooking? Sometimes she wondered if she hadn't gotten just a little of their father's magic and she wasn't unknowingly possessed by some demon of the un-holy grill or a fade spirit condemned to eternal pursuit of the perfect sauce or gravy… Oh, speaking of sauces and gravy… She mixed up a little flour, spices, and milk to pour over the chicken and vegetables already in the huge pot she'd place in the fire pit. It would thicken the juices that cooked from the chicken and make the most tasty gravy to be served over the biscuits she'd just finished putting in the pan. And then there were the apples and berries sitting in a basket on the floor. Apple berry crisp… or maybe a cobbler… Anders liked the cobbler she'd made last week. And with all the time he'd been putting into the clinic, along with helping her and hiding from the templars, he deserved something good. Of course their new companion, Fenris, might not like cobbler. Maybe she should just make one of each she decided reaching for the flour and butter.
He'd shown up at the Hanged Man the night before. She'd been sitting with Bethany, Varric, Aveline and Anders, playing a fast hand of Wicked Grace, drinking a cold mug of the Hanged Man's Wicked Ale. The elf had been in the process of trying to order a mug of the house piss, as Varric called it, when she'd spotted him. Already nicely smashed and feeling like it was a good night to get a party going, although to be honest every night was a good night to get a party going as far as she was concerned, she'd jumped up and woven her way through the crowd to where he was standing at the bar. Instructing the barkeep to put his drink on her tab, and in the same breath threatening him with a painful death if he even thought about reaching for the tap on the house piss, she ushered their new companion over to the back table.
After dragging a chair over from another table… ok so there had been someone already in the chair… she'd dumped the drunk onto the floor and rolled him under a table… she'd then proceeded to make everyone at their table scoot their chairs around so the "new guy" could sit beside her…
Flour, cold water, and butter quickly formed into a dough ball and became a crust. Apples, sugar, more butter, spices, and berries – she let her mind drift back over the night before as she quietly worked to get the sweet treats ready to bake…
"Hey everyone, this is Fenris," she laughed, falling back into her chair, eyes sparkling as she leaned forward and took another large swig of her beer in front of her. She turned to him and continued, "You remember Varric, Aveline, and my sister Bethany?"
"I do," he'd replied, managing to acknowledge each before she'd continued. A brief scowl had touched his eyes as he nodded at her sister. His dislike for mages had been apparent at their first meeting. And honestly, she couldn't blame him. He'd been a Tevinter mage's slave for as long as he could remember. That was bound to give him a skewed view of things. And, the magisters of Tevinter were not known for being "nice people" to work for, er… slave for. No, these magisters were the same power hungry mages who had brought about the first blight over one thousand years ago…
"And this is Anders," she added, pointing to the blond human sitting next to her on the left. "He runs a free clinic in Lowtown for refugees and the poor." She decided not to mention that he was also a mage. Their new friend would figure that out for himself soon enough.
"It's your deal Hawke," Varric called out over the loud din of the pub's common room. They could have moved the game to the dwarf's private quarters, but this was the place to see and be seen if she wanted work to come her way. She still had lots of money to raise if she and Bethany wanted in on Varric's brother's trip into the Deep Roads.
"The game is Diamond Back and one-eyed knights are wild. Who's in?"
"You have all my money, Hawke, and besides, I need to get back to the clinic and check on a few patients," Anders said, casting a wary eye in the elf's direction before getting up and grabbing his staff. "Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked.
"Probably. I told Tomwise I'd be by with some interesting things I found. He's offered to make me some more "things that go boom" in exchange for the locations of any resources I find."
"I thought you were trying to make your own," Anders commended, still standing by her chair.
"Not since she almost blew up Uncle Gamlen's house," Bethany laughed from the other side of the table before continuing. "I'm surprised you didn't hear him cursing all the way down in Darktown."
"I thought he was going to explode he turned so red… And of course he blamed it all on mother and our apostate father. Evidently it's the apostate influence that makes her 'wild Ferelden urchins" act without any class or decorum. Even dead the man can't do anything right."
"Of course Uncle Gamlen's the one that gambled away the family estate and spends his time drinking and carousing down at the Blooming Rose. But we have no class…." Bethany yawned and pushed her chair back from the table.
"It's getting late sister. I'm going to let Anders walk me back to Gamlen's. Maybe your friend wouldn't mind seeing you home later?" Bethany pointedly looked at the elf before reaching for her staff and heading through the still thick crowd towards the door.
"How about it Fenris, Aveline, Varric? A few more drinks and hands of Diamond Back?"
The drinks flowed and coins changed hands, mostly from everyone to Hawke. She secretly made a few mistakes that caused the elf to win a few hands unbeknownst to him or the other players at the table. Malcome Hawke had been an excellent card player and had taught his oldest daughter everything he knew. It had been their secret from her mother. She frowned a little at the sadness that crept into her at the thought of her father… He'd been gone over four years now… She still missed him.
Eventually Varric and Aveline called it a night leaving Hawke and the elf talking as they sipped dark ale and nibbled on a small platter of cheese and bread she'd ordered. Ryann liked to drink as much as the next mercenary, but too much ale on an empty stomach was never a good idea. And besides, she liked food… she really liked food…
"So, how's it going Fenris? Getting settled in over at your Hightown Mansion?"
"I have managed to fortify the doors and place traps in front of the windows. My former master will not find me unprepared should he return to capture his prized investment."
"Ok, so now I'm going to have to try to sneak in, just to see how good these traps are."
"I would not advise it Hawke. Suffice it to say the consequences would be most unwelcome."
"I take that as a challenge, elf. I'll have you know I pride myself in my ability to outwit and outsmart any and all traps."
"Be my guest human. But don't say I didn't warn you."
"Oh this sounds like fun. Let's go over now and I'll have a go at them."
"It's too late and you're much too drunk to make it that far. And I'm sure you have better things to do than - "
"Oh sod it," she interrupted. "I forgot I'm supposed to get up early in the morning and do some cooking. Baked chicken, roasted vegetables, fresh bread…" She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes seemed to glaze over as she described the dishes she was going to make. She also couldn't help but notice that he'd been the one to eat most of the tray of cheese and bread she'd ordered. And he did look thin… maybe too thin.. And then she remembered he'd given her all his coin the night she'd helped him.
Shit. Was he even eating? She'd make enough for him and Anders…
"Come on elf. I need my beauty sleep and you need to make sure your traps are as good as you say. I'll be testing them personally one day very soon."
"You've been warned human, that's all I'll say."
It was later that afternoon, when everything was done and carefully placed in individual baskets for easy delivery, that Hawke left her Uncle Gamlen's Lowdown hovel and set off across the city with only Wrex at her side. Her mother, Leandra, hadn't wanted Bethany openly visiting the apostate mage Anders. There were just too many Templars roaming the city, and she worried for the safety of her youngest daughter.
In Lowtown, Ryann dropped of a basket filled almost to overflowing for the mage. She took some time to sit and chat, listening to his radical ideas about mages and freedom. Because her sister was a mage, she was inclined to side with him in a lot of his ideas. That didn't mean she fully supported his militant agenda, though. She knew the risks all mages faced from demons. Her father had been an apostate, but he didn't ignore the dangers that came with being a mage. All his children had been taught the dangers of demons and blood magic. And lately, working around Kirkwall, she'd seen more than her fair share of blood magic. And poor Fenris… the lyrium burned into his flesh by a powerful blood mage… A cold chill ran down her spine in the summer heat as she thought of the horror he must have endured.
In Hightown, she made her way to the section of homes occupied by the resident nobles. This was where Fenris had decided to make a stand against his old master, by squatting in his abandoned house. She hoped he was home so she could drop the basket off… now about those fortifications and traps…
The elf sat in the upstairs master suite, a cross between a study and a bedroom, lazily swigging from a bottle of fine wine he'd brought up from Denarius's extensive collection in the basement. A small fire burned in the fireplace, the only light in a room where the heavy drapes has been pulled closed against the bright light of the afternoon sun.
He should have been thinking about what he was going to do now that he'd decided to stop running from his former master. He should have been more worried about his finances, or lack thereof. He should have been planning ways to make some coin rather than resorting to pick pocketing like he'd been forced into for the past several months since he'd escaped Denarius's clutches…
Yes, there were many things he should have been thinking about or actually doing, but all he could think of was one small human woman. One petite blonde that could dual wield daggers faster than anyone he'd ever met. A feminine force of nature that both excited and scared him. He'd never met anyone like her. She gave of herself to those around her and didn't ask for anything in return. It went against everything he knew, everything he'd ever experienced.
Warm wine slid down his throat and he reflected more on the dynamo of a woman that had literally fought her way into his life. Hawke wasn't what he'd come to expect from people. Most humans looked down on elves. Most humans would have gladly returned him to his former master for a few coins. Most humans would not have lost at cards so blatantly so that he could win a few coppers. When it came right down to it, Hawke wasn't like most humans.
It was the smell he noticed first. Over the acrid odor coming from the small fire, he noticed something else. Cooked meat… chicken… and fresh bread… About the same time his nose registered an intruder, something struck him on the side of the head and he leapt from the couch to reach for his great sword, the lyrium in his body already beginning to phase and glow a pale blue. With a snarl he was half way across the room before he realized who it was. He had too much momentum to stop and found himself pressing Hawke's slight form up against the doorway, her grey eyes smiling, a wicked grin on her lush lips… lush lips? There wasn't even a hint of fear as she gazed up at him.
"I thought your traps and fortifications were supposed to be challenging. I was evading and disarming traps like yours when I was ten." She quipped before bringing a slim hand up and flicking another cooked pea directly into his face.
Wine and lyrium thrummed through his blood, a gloved hand a breath away from phasing into her chest, a heartbeat away from death…
"What the hell are you thinking, Hawke?" he yelled down at her. He didn't even bother to move away, instead pressing her even harder against the doorway. He could have killed her…
"Well… I was thinking it was a really nice evening for a picnic. But you've really ruined the mood with the whole blue flashy thing," she quipped, her breath warm and sweet against his lips, grey eyes still dancing with mischief. With a surprisingly quick duck and twist, she spun out of his grasp and continued as she picked up her basket and strolled across the floor to sit it on a low table by the fire. "However, I do forgive you, for the whole blue flashy thing, and was wondering if you'd be interested in going up on the roof for an evening of food and cool breezes…"
Willing his heart to slow down and quit beating like a drum, he warred within himself, caught between being angry at the women for interrupting his home, and for endangering herself. He could have killed her… But on the other hand the aromas coming from the basket she'd placed on the low table were making his stomach growl. The last thing he'd eaten had been the bread and cheeses the night before at the bar. And wine, even the best vintage, was no substitute for real food.
In the end his stomach won. The thoughts of baked chicken and fresh bread leading him to walk over to the basket and lift back the red cloth covering everything.
"It's really nice outside. If we go up on the roof, I bet we could see all the way to the harbor," she said smiling, but waited for him to make the decision.
"You… I don't understand," he said, his eyes never leaving the abundant food nestled in the deep basket.
"Oh, well… see, I kinda like to cook. So every few days I cook up a big batch of stuff and I usually take Anders some over at the clinic in Darktown. You met him last night. He runs a free clinic and I know he doesn't have time to cook or anything with all the refugees and others that visit him. So when I cook for my family… there's me, my sister Bethany… you met her already, my mother, and my uncle, Gamlen. Anyway, since I'm cooking enough for us, I always make more and… I figured you hadn't had time to really shop or if you even cook…"
"So you just decided to bring me a week's worth of food just because…" he asked, failing to keep the bitterness from permeating his words.
"What? You don't like chicken? I suppose I could have made a roast, but -"
"It has been my experience that no one does anything without wanting something in return," he replied, finally releasing the red cloth and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Oh, but I do want something. I need a good fighter, one who's willing to work for little coin… I can't pay much. But, I can cook. And I've been told I'm a really good cook…"
"I've already told you I'm in you dept. Your assistance with those sent by Denarius to retrieve his priced slave was more than I had hoped for."
"They were slavers. That, in and of itself, is enough reason for me to help you hunt them down."
"I… have never met someone like you, Hawke."
"And you said you needed to practice your flattery," she joked before moving over to where he stood by the table and picking up the basket, heading for the door. "Come on. Show me the roof and I'll try to persuade you to work for some food and no money. Well, maybe lots of food and a little money. You can tell me all about Fenris over some baked chicken and apple berry cobbler. Is there any of that wine left?" she asked, pointing to the bottle he'd been drinking from earlier.
"A whole cellar of the stuff," he replied, grabbing the bottle and following her out the door.
"Cool! This evening is turning out better and better," she laughed merrily as she walked in front of him, hips swaying unconsciously, the smell of food and something else… something faint and feminine, teasing the elf's nose as he followed her up to the mansion's roof.
Over the next several long months, Ryann Hawke continued to visit the escaped elven slave, sometimes with baskets of food, and sometimes just to talk and escape her uncle's hovel. When she learned that her uncle had gambled the family estate away to slavers, who were using the Hightown estate as a base of operations, she asked Fenris to go with her when she went to retrieve her grandfather's will. She wanted the will, but taking out a cell of prolific slavers was the proverbial icing on the cake.
Together with him, Bethany, and Varric, she'd been able to recover the family will and give her mother hope of reclaiming the family estate. It was nice to see Leandra Hawke happy and hopeful once again. Carver's death had taken its toll on her over the past year…
Over time, their band of misfits grew. A shipwrecked Rivanian pirate, a displaced prince of Starkhaven, and another mage… this time a Dalish mage who was quite open about practicing blood magic.
When she wasn't out in the city or surrounding countryside tracking slavers, possessed mages, or any other job she could get, Hawke was at home, or as was more usual, in Hightown relaxing in a cook's dream kitchen. It hadn't taken much effort to convince Fenris that he should let her use the estate's kitchen. A few cakes, some pies, stuffed foul, braised lamb, a warm baked spring vegetable tart with flaky crust, the cheese and crumb top bubbling and just turning a delicious golden brown before being taken from one of the kitchen's three ovens…
A steady friendship grew until they were comfortable just sitting and talking, especially after a difficult job. They discussed fighting techniques as bread dough rose. They talked about preferred methods of sharpening their weapons as soups simmered over glowing coals. They went over battle strategies while chickens roasted over an open flame.
And somewhere along the way Fenris began opening up to her about his time as a slave, of how he'd received his markings, obliterating any memory he may have had of his past life, of any family he may have had. She hadn't said anything, just listened. What could she say? To know what he'd been through, how his former master had abused him so… She knew that not all mages were like the magisters of Tevinter. There wasn't a more gentle soul in the world than Bethany, but… She'd made a silent vow that if she ever got her hands on a very specific Tevinter Magister, there wouldn't be enough left of him to stuff into a thimble….
For his part, Fenris still didn't trust the mages in their group. His past was too scared for him to ever be able to do that. He tolerated Hawke's sister, Bethany, and acknowledged to himself that on some level she wasn't like the magisters of Tevinter. He'd come to respect Hawke, maybe even trust her a little. And if the young brunette mage was Hawke's sister, well…maybe she wasn't all bad. But even though he understood all this in his heart, in his head, any mage would always be dangerous.
Anders though? He always had reservations about that mage. Especially when said mage made it clear he was interested in Hawke. Hawke on the other hand was oblivious to the mage's overtures, or outright ignored his advances. Whether she was conscious of her actions or just dangerously naive about some things, he wasn't sure.
And then there was the Dalish abomination. He didn't really know whether to be angry at the fellow elf, or pity the demon she'd made a bargain with. He suspected the demon got the short end of that deal… She was just a wee bit naïve, and totally clueless…
It was several months after she fought her way into his life that Hawke told him she had saved enough gold to buy in on Bartrand's Deep Roads expedition. She wanted him to come with her, Varric, and Bethany. It would be dangerous, but with Bartrand's other hired blades and workers, the risk seemed to be minimal. The deep roads were supposedly almost empty of darkspawn after a blight. They could conceivably make a fortune…
Of course, no one could have predicted the turn of events that would occur….