Enjoy!


Fenris stretched his feet out toward the fireplace with a contented sigh. It was finally beginning to warm up outside—while he still needed the fire to penetrate deep to his chilled bones, he wasn't also huddling amongst blankets wearing Hawke's fluffy wool robe in addition. She got no end of amusement from the sight of him wearing the garment, but he found it rather ridiculous and fled the room whenever anyone came to visit. Even Sandal's curious face and Bodahn's carefully averted eyes made him feel self-conscious. Not enough to spend the winter blue with cold, however. Hence the robe.

Now he could finally do without it, and had consigned the blasted thing to the depths of the wardrobe waiting for next year's freezing autumn to arrive. And, in addition to the arrival of temperate weather, Hawke was experiencing the longest period of quiet and peace since he had known her—no bandits, no malefactors, no upheavals. It was utter bliss … for Fenris. Hawke, on the other hand, was restless and unsettled, and therefore spending far too much time in the Hanged Man with Varric. They had given up drunken debauches years ago, but the number of drinks she was willing to consume in a night had increased in recent months. Isabela was no help—she matched Hawke drink for drink, and then some. The pirate was spending a lot of time ashore, even with her beloved ship at her beck and call. Fenris believed the siren's song that was holding his friend to Kirkwall came from high in the Gallows, where Bethany reigned as First Enchanter, but he and Hawke rarely spoke of that. Much as she loved Isabela, she had a difficult time seeing the pirate as a valid choice of partner for her sister. Fenris didn't believe that was Hawke's decision to make, but he knew her position as regarded Bethany, and knew it would not change as long as Bethany remained inside the Gallows.

He heard the door open and close, and Hawke's merry voice speaking to Bodahn, and a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fire.

"There you are." Her voice was a purr from the doorway.

"Was I difficult to locate?"

"Well, I didn't check in bed yet, but I was hoping to find you there."

"Please pardon me for not living up to your expectations." He had barely finished speaking when he found himself with a lap full of warm, giggling Hawke, which was certainly an improvement on the rest of his evening, and neatly resolved his concerns about being too cold. "I take it there was much entertainment to be had at the Hanged Man."

"Mm-hm." She was kissing his neck, which made it difficult to understand what she was saying and equally difficult to concentrate. "Varric made a new friend. Or remade an old one? Hard to say."

"What kind of new friend?" Fenris asked, somewhat breathlessly.

Hawke shifted so that she was straddling his lap. "His name's Edge, or something like that. Said he had a job for the Champion." She rubbed herself against him. "Feels like you do, too." She giggled again, her fingers fumbling at the fasteners of his breastplate.

"Edge is … uh … quite a name. What kind of job?" He wasn't sure he cared, not with Hawke's tongue busily exploring the skin she had bared, brushing maddeningly over the lines of lyrium in his throat and chest.

"Didn't say. Meeting him in the market tomorrow, after dark."

Fenris moaned, leaning back to let her have better access. "Sounds like an ambush."

"You always think there's an ambush. But right now …" She nuzzled her cheek against his stomach, her hair brushing against his skin. "Right now I'm not concerned with ambushes. Or fighting. Or Varric's contacts. Are you?" Her hand did something wicked in a very sensitive spot, and Fenris cried out, arching against her. Hawke chuckled deep in her throat. "Didn't think so."

And she proceeded to keep him distracted for a good long time.


The memory of that night was not warming him at all as he stood stamping his feet in the darkness of the Hightown market.

"Must it always be outdoors?" he groused. "And must they always arrive so late?"

"There does seem to be a lot of no one," Hawke agreed, looking around at the deserted market. "You sure we have the right night?" she asked Varric.

He threw up his hands. "Yes! I don't get it—Edge is usually so reliable."

"'Edge'? You're trusting someone named after a blade?" Isabela appeared from the shadows where she had been waiting. "I think he's a no-show, Varric."

"Or it's an ambush," Fenris said, crossing his arms over his chest for a meager amount of extra warmth. "This is normally when that happens."

"Come on, Broody, it's not always an ambush," Varric protested. And then, as Antivan Crows seemed to rise from every surface, he groaned. "All right, maybe sometimes it's an ambush. I hate it when you're right."

"I do, as well." Fenris surveyed the Crows warily.

But before any of them, including the Crows, could act, a dagger came whistling through the air, landing itself squarely in the eye of the closest Crow. Then a red-haired elf did some flips and rolls, not unlike Isabela's usual fighting style, and took out about five others before standing up, turning to Hawke, and saying, "Well? What are you waiting for?"

It was on the tip of Hawke's tongue to tell whoever this was that she was doing fine and please keep it up, but Varric was readying Bianca and Isabela had already disappeared into the shadows, so Hawke sighed and pulled her sword. "Varric, who the blazes is that?" she asked.

He shrugged, planting one of Bianca's sharp barbed tongues deep in the throat of a Crow. "Don't know!" he shouted, because the noise in the market had ratcheted up quite a bit. "Kill people, then ask!"

From across the market, the strange elf shouted, "Good plan!"

"So glad she approves," Hawke muttered under her breath before joining battle. There were a rather large number of Crows here, and she wondered why. She was hardly a threat to anyone these days; Kirkwall had been so quiet. Not that she minded that, exactly—she just wasn't used to it. Nevertheless, it seeemed extravagant on someone's part to want to take her out this badly.

The others had thrown themselves into the scrap with enthusiasm; it had been a long time without a fight for them, as well. And when Fenris, Isabela, and Varric were all enthusiastic about something, they tended to do it well. Hawke was proud of her people—they still had it.

The elf seemed less impressed. Looking around at the fallen bodies, she sniffed. "Sloppy." Only when she kicked one of the Crows did Hawke realize she was talking about the assassins rather than Hawke's team. "You'd think the Crows would be better at this. They've been doing it for ages."

"Were these Crows a gift from you? That's generous," Hawke said.

"I would have said extravagant." Fenris appeared unimpressed by the mysterious elf.

The elf sauntered across the courtyard to stand in front of Hawke—not without a sidelong glance in Fenris's direction, however. "Oh, I didn't arrange this," she said breezily. "But it's no coincidence I'm here. My name is Tallis, and I've been looking for you."

"Looking for me?" Hawke was torn between annoyance and interest. It had been awfully quiet lately.

"Looking for the woman who has an invitation to Chateau Haine, to be specific."

Hawke was at sea. "Chateau Haine? Is that a restaurant?"

"Oh, yes!" Varric said, as the light dawned. "That's what Edge was on about. Hawke, you remember Duke Prosper, the one who fawned all over you at the Champion of Kirkwall banquet?"

Behind her, Fenris growled softly, "I remember Duke Prosper."

Hawke stifled a grin. While she had certainly never given Fenris any reason to be jealous, sometimes he found it quite inspirational. The night after that banquet had been far more memorable than this duke, whoever he was.

Varric said, "The duke was telling you about some hunt at his family's estate." He put on a dreadful fake Orlesian accent. "'A tradition in my family for ze last zo many ages, 'awke, and we would be zo honored if you could attend.'"

"I doubt I'd go to that sort of thing," Hawke said, shuddering.

Tallis cleared her throat. "I was ... kind of hoping I could convince you to reconsider. The duke is a delightful host, or so I hear."

"Kind of you to take such interest in my social calendar. I take it, for you, there's more to it than a long way to go for an overly complicated meal?"

Her features tightening, Tallis said, "I need to relieve him of something he has no right to possess, and I can't do it alone."

"Short version: You want to rob him." Hawke was going to kill Varric. Whatever had he possibly said that made it sound like she was a thief for hire?

Varric grinned at her, as if he could read her thoughts. Which he probably could, come to think of it. "Stealing from Orlesians is never wrong ... or so I've heard."

"This isn't how I was planning to ask you this," Tallis said. "I was planning an introduction with ..." she looked around at the carnage spread through the marketplace, "less blood."

"What makes you think I steal things just because people ask me to?" Hawke asked in annoyance.

"I would," Isabela murmured.

"You're such a giver, Isabela," Fenris murmured back.

"I know."

Hawke glared at both of them, and then transferred the glare to Varric when he cleared his throat and said, "I ... may have talked you up a bit. Maybe more than once."

"Varric." Hawke groaned. "Haven't you learned not to do that by now?"

"Next time, I'll just tell everyone how you slaughtered your way through half of Kirkwall. Think that will result in more interesting offers?" Varric said tartly. They raised their eyebrows at each other in a silent staring contest.

Hawke sighed, looking away first.

Tallis, looking rather awkward, said, "All I've heard is that you get things done. I hope that's true, at least."

"Oh, she gets things done, all right," Isabela said. "Doesn't leave much standing when she's finished, though. Duke what's-his-name doesn't seem to have heard that, has he?"

"Thank you, Isabela." Turning to Tallis, Hawke shrugged. "I suppose there's no harm in hearing you out."

A delighted smile spread across the elf's face. "Looks like they were right about you."

"Er, by 'they', I assume you mean me," Varric said, coughing ostentatiously.

Tallis transferred her smile to him. "Evidently."

"So, what exactly is it you want me to steal?" Hawke asked.

"A jewel."

"Ooh, I love jewels!" Isabela exclaimed.

Ignoring the pirate, Tallis moved closer, her voice dropping. "The duke thinks it's valuable—and it is, just not in the way he believes. What's more, he shouldn't have it in the first place. He who wishes to walk on water must first learn to swim," she muttered, half to herself.

Hawke wondered briefly what that was supposed to mean, and decided not to bother asking. She wasn't sure she trusted this elf, she wasn't sure what she was being asked to get herself into, and all things considered, she would rather just go home.

Tallis must have sensed that she was losing her fish, because she looked at Hawke beseechingly. "Come with me to Chateau Haine," she said. "I'll explain everything on the way." When Hawke hesitated, she added, "If nothing else, you'll get fine wine and fancy company, and the chance to hunt a wyvern. But ... I hope you want more than that."

Hawke looked at Tallis, then at Varric, then around at Fenris and Isabela. Inconclusive—they would go if she asked them to, but none of them would express any enthusiasm.

"When is this event at Chateau Haine?"

"In ten days. If we leave tomorrow or the day after, we should be there more or less on time."

"Fine. Come to my mansion tomorrow. Alone," she added, looking around at the bodies of the Crows with distaste. "And we'll discuss it further."

Tallis clearly wanted to argue, but a look at Hawke's face seemed to tell her it wasn't going to get her anywhere. "Very well," she said instead, and melted into the shadows.

The four of them walked back to the Hanged Man together, chatting lightly as they went. By custom, they saved business for the moment they were ensconced at the usual back table, mugs of ale in hand. Then three inquiring faces turned to Hawke.

"Well, sweet thing, did the elf make an impression on you? She was sure trying to make an impression on someone." Isabela winked in Fenris's direction.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. Had Tallis been flirting with Fenris? She hadn't noticed, if so, and from Fenris's rather blank expression, neither had he.

"I can't say I found her all that compelling. Strange, yes, but not compelling." She looked at Varric. "Can you give me any reason why I should go off to Orlais and go to this Duke Prosper's stupid wyvern hunt?"

He shrugged. "When was the last time you hunted wyvern?"

"I was rather hoping my hunting days were over."

"If it comes to that," Isabela said, "when was the last time you got out of Kirkwall?"

"Does Sundermount count?"

"Or that Grey Warden fortress in the Vimmarks?" Fenris put in, shuddering.

"See?" Hawke asked. "I go places. I do things."

"Yes, but fighting demons on a mountaintop and killing a big angry old darkspawn hardly compare to being pampered at a fancy estate in Orlais." Isabela looked surprisingly earnest about it. "You need a vacation; this could be just the thing."

"What do you think?" Hawke asked Fenris.

"I cannot imagine Duke Prosper would look favorably on my presence."

"Well, I'm not going without you." She reached out and took his hand. "Duke Prosper can take me—and you—as we are, or he can do without the Champion of Kirkwall's presence."

"So you're going, then?" Varric asked. He knew her far too well, knew how rootless and unsettled she felt.

"We're going," she corrected him, and at his look of blank panic, grinned. "Come on, what would I do without my trusty dwarf?"

"Hawke, you have to be kidding! What would I do in Orlais?"

"Eat fine food, charm some really boring people, help me break into a noble's house and steal something. What would you do here?"

"Fine. Why do I even bother to argue?"

"I'm sure I don't know." She looked at Isabela. "You're coming, too, right?"

"Me? Oh ... I think I need to stay here and help refit my ship. She's got a ... loose spar." Isabela picked at a nonexistent thread on the hem of her tunic.

Hawke frowned. She'd never known the pirate to turn down an adventure before—especially not an adventure involving treasure. "Are you sure? Passing up the opportunity to sneak into an Orlesian noble's estate and steal things?"

"Well ... I have enough things. Can't fit them all on the ship as it is."

Varric was looking at Isabela speculatively, and when he didn't offer any complaints about the pirate leaving him to trek to Orlais while she stayed home at the Hanged Man Hawke wondered how long it would take to worm out of the dwarf whatever it was that he thought he knew about her reluctance.

"I guess it's the three of us and this Tallis, then," she said.

"I do not trust that elf," Fenris growled.

"You don't trust anyone. It's part of your charm," she told him, grinning.

"I trust you." His green eyes were serious on hers, and would she ever get over the power in that simplicity? She hoped not.

"And that, too, is part of your charm."

He smiled briefly, acknowledging the affection behind her words. "If you insist upon doing this, I will naturally be at your side."

"Good. I'll head over to the Gallows tomorrow to tell Bethany we're going, and then we can leave day after tomorrow after we check on supplies and make sure we have everything we need."