A/N: Standard I/P disclaimers apply. Just a short one shot.

It's been a while since I've written anything and depending how this goes, I have some ideas for another full length piece.

Lilacs weren't native to Kirkwall but their heady perfume still scented the night air. Hawke breathed deep, for a short moment remembering her family's house in Lothering, where the bush grew wild and the delicate purple buds opened outside her bedroom window every spring. Here the plant was limited to some noble's walled off, impeccably manicured grounds, a paid gardener struggling to control what nature had so freely given elsewhere.

Hightown was quiet as she walked, almost peaceful. The peace was only shattered by the occasional group of rich youngbloods carousing, on their way to a tavern or to the Blooming Rose more than likely. Hawke had a second of envy mixed with disgust as she watched them. So secure in their parent's money and power that they had no thought beyond their next pleasures. It had been such a long time since she had felt that safe and carefree.

By the Maker, she was tired. Tired of the fighting, tired of the demands, tired of the loss. She leaned heavily against a marble pillar and pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead. Once Hawke had a moment to collect herself, she glanced across the way to where a slightly darker shadow stood motionless. "You are welcome to walk with me, you know," she called, her voice soft and husky from disuse.

The shadow disentangled itself from the darkness. Out in the open, the moonlight gleamed off his white hair as Fenris approached. "I had thought you may wish to be alone."

She shrugged, slouching further against the cool marble. "What I wish doesn't seem to matter lately, but still, I wouldn't mind your company." Hawke tried to keep her tone light, but she could tell Fenris could hear the brittle edge in it. She tried again. "I take it you're the one I have to thank for the quiet I've had these past few nights? It doesn't seem that often that I can be out without someone trying to kill me or relieve me of my coin purse."

He stood in front of her, arms folded across his lean chest as he gazed at her steadily. The hilt of his broadsword was clearly visible over one shoulder. She nodded at it. "I think you're making a name for yourself, Fenris. There was a time when people would see an elf with a sword that big as a challenge, not as a deterrent." She gave him a ghost of her usual grin, one that never came close to reaching her eyes. "I've even noticed some young elves in the alienage lately have taken to carrying one, though I have the feeling that most could not even lift it themselves, let alone wield it. I wouldn't be surprised if they start tattooing their skin soon."

"They are fools."

They both turned and started walking side by side. "Perhaps they just admire you."

"And that makes even more foolish."

"Why? I think there is much admirable about you."

He came to an abrupt halt and grabbed her arm. "Hawke, stop. Acting as if nothing has happened does not change the truth."

She looked at the gauntleted hand grasping her forearm then into his pale green eyes. "You know, I believe that this is the first time you have ever touched me on purpose."

Fenris gave what sounded suspiciously like a frustrated growl and released his grip. A muscle jerked in his jaw and Hawke knew he was grinding his teeth. When he spoke, the words came out hard. "You always do this. You hide behind a mask of sarcasm and wit. You act as though nothing touches you. I cannot understand you."

The look she gave him immediately made him regret his words. Her eyes where haunted and the anguish so raw that he had to glance away. "My apologies," he said softly. "That was uncalled for." When he looked back at her, her face was again shuttered, as if that brief glimpse into her soul had never happened. 'If you wish, I will leave you to your walk."

Hawke glanced at their surroundings. They were close to the run down mansion that Fenris called home. She shook her head. "I think I've had enough walking. Mind if I come in for a while?"

Fenris led them inside, past the broken crates that still littered the front hall, up what must have been a grand stairwell once, and into the single room he seemed to live in. The moon streamed in through the open window, providing enough light that no candles were needed. He gestured to one of the chairs facing the marble fireplace and she sat, watching him while he lit the logs. Soon a fire was leaping and crackling, its warmth seeming to sink into Hawke's bones. Before that moment, she had never even noticed how cold she was.

She stared into the flames, lost in their dance. From behind her, she could hear the clink of glass against glass and the sound of liquid being poured. Fenris set the bottle on the table between them and handed her a glass of wine. Leaning against the mantel, he watched her sip the ruby merlot. Her eyes were deeply shadowed and sunken and he wondered at the last time she slept.

She didn't look at him as she drained her glass and poured herself another. "I envy you sometimes, you know," she said, still staring at the flames. 'I envy your certainty, your conviction. I used to feel that way once."

"About mages," Fenris said flatly.

Hawke nodded. "One of the few things you and I ever disagree on. Lately though…" She broke off and shook her head. She started again. "When I first came to Kirkwall I knew that the Circle was wrong, that the Templars were wrong. Mages were persecuted and hunted. People feared them out of lack of understanding and no small amount of envy. My sister is a mage and I know how hard it was for her to hide what she was and to always have the fear that one day someone would come and take her from us."

"The circle is slavery, Fenris. It takes people away and locks them up, forcing them to live within a limited scope. The people there, they aren't free to follow their dreams, to live, hells, even to love. One toe over the line and those dreams can be taken from them in an instant. You of all people should understand that."

"I can see where you would find similarities, but slaves cannot kill people with their minds. They cannot open themselves to demons and turn into abominations in a moment of weakness."

"No, but they also can't reach into a person's chest and crush their heart with their hands," she quipped.

Fenris stiffened, anger clear in every line in his body. Hawke sighed and dropped her head into her hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't come to fight with you. I… I'm not good at this Fenris. I'm not good at being serious even at time like this. You were right about the jokes." She glanced up at the metal covering his lithe frame, the firelight turning the dark metal golden. "You have your armor, I have mine." She sighed again and gestured to the free chair next to hers. "Please. Sit." As he did, she refilled both their glasses.

"I guess what I am trying to say is over the years we have argued much about the rights of mages. You, believing that it was just a matter of time. That all go bad eventually. Me, believing that the actions of a few bad ones shouldn't dominate the rights of the rest."

Fenris nodded as he sipped his own drink. He remembered very well those arguments and all the times that she protected the mages. He also remembered each instance when the mages she protected had turned to blood magic. The grimness in her face that she wore every time she had to put another one down was clear in his mind.

"The longer I go, the more I see, Fenris." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "It shakes my belief." Hawke stood in a rush and began pacing in front of the chairs. "It's been building in me over the past few months. The thought that neither side is right, that both sides are at fault for it all."

He set his glass down as he watched her stalk around the chamber. The tension in the room seemed to be thickening. The silent walks Hawke had been taking these past three nights, her refusal to admit anyone into her home when they came to offer comfort, all of that was qunari powder keg whose fuse was quickly reaching its end.

"I've protected them. For years, I've kept the Templars from their homes. And then one of them came to my home and…" Her rising voice cracked and she stopped in front of his chair. He could see the tears and rage in her eyes. "He sent her flowers, Fenris. Flowers. He sent her lilies even as he planned how to take her. I defended his rights and in return he took my mother from me."

Tears were streaming down her face now and Fenris was at a loss of what to do. The naked emotion was to personal, to raw. She was closer to him than he had ever allowed anyone to get and her pain struck at him as if it were his own. For the first time that he could remember he wished he knew what to do to ease someone else's hurt.

Hawke stood on the edge of the darkness as she threw her wine glass against the wall. It shattered, and so did her last thread of control. "He murdered her and defiled her body," she snarled. "He turned her into a walking corpse, kept her consciousness trapped that thing. He would have…" She swallowed hard, not even wanting to think about what the mage would have done to the creature he had created had they not arrived when they had. Fenris could see her swaying with the force of her outburst and the exhaustion that was written all over her. "He didn't die slowly enough", she said quietly.

A part of Hawke's mind registered that her knees were buckling but before she hit the ground, Fenris had an arm around her and was leading her back to her chair. Instead of setting her into it, he sat himself and pulled her into his lap. They both sat awkwardly for a few long moments, this closeness so different from the usual careful dance they did with each other. Her body finally relaxed against his and she rested her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said wearily, feeling how stiffly he was holding himself. "I know you don't really like being touched."

"Living here in Kirkwall, I have seen humans holding another when one had experienced a tragedy. It seems to comfort them." His normally rock steady voice sounded unsure. "Does this help?" He felt her nod and her hair brushed against his cheek at the movement. A deep breath brought him the ever so faint scent of lilacs.

She could feel some of the tension leaving his body the longer they sat there. Eventually he released the death grip he had on the arm of the chair and by painfully slow degrees he carefully put his arm around her waist. Hawke turned her face into his neck, smelling his warm masculine scent and something deep within her eased.

Fenris could feel her silent tears sliding from her cheeks, on to his neck and under his armor. She felt so small on his lap. When she was in control of herself, the force of her personality made her seem so much bigger. Even though he knew she could take care of herself, he was hit by the sudden desire to protect someone other than himself. "When was the last time you slept?" he asked roughly.

"Three days ago. Now, every time I close my eyes I see…" She broke off, a half sob making her voice crack. "I'm so tired but I just can't see that anymore. Could you… I don't know. Talk to me, or something. Give me something else to focus on?"

He was quiet for a while. There weren't many soothing topics he knew of given his previous life. Just when she feared he would refuse, he began telling her about the different areas of the city of Tevinter. His voice was low as he spoke of the gardens that magic built and of the mage lights of the towers. Hawke curled her body against his as she listened, his familiar beautiful voice weaving a tapestry of colors and smells that settled over her like a blanket.

Fenris didn't know how long he talked but he was aware of the feel of Hawke's breath on his neck evening and lengthening. Eventually he stood with her in his arms and carried her over to his own unmade bed. Placing her in the center of the huge mattress, he pulled the covers up to her shoulders. He stood there, looking down at her. It was some time before he went to the window to stare at the moon and to think.