DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dragon Age. If I did. It probably would have been a lot less like a game an a lot more like a porno.
Feynriel was in trouble again.
Marian Hawke sighed as she carefully re-read the letter Arianni had sent her. Her back complaining at the awkward position she sat hunched in over her writing desk. Plate mail hanging heavy on her shoulders, skin grimed with sweat and blood. She groaned, letting her frustration leak out after a long and exhausting day.
It was hard to tell if the woman was being deliberately vague. Arianni had said little more than that she required their assistance, rather urgently. Still, Marian could not be sure that this involved Feynriel – URG! who was she kidding, of course it did! The kindly elf woman would be too meek to ask for their assistance regarding anything less urgent.
Dammit, this couldn't wait until morning, no matter how much Hawke could feel the pull of her bed and the call of a warm bathe. Luxury could wait, this could not. It had been her decision to send Feynriel to the Dalish. If he was causing trouble now, if even one innocent life was lost, the blood was on her hands.
Marian was suddenly very glad she had decided to check her correspondence before even relieving herself of her armor. This needed attention now, and she didn't know if she would have the strength to gear up for a trek to the alienage if she had found this letter in the comfort of her silk robe with a full meal sitting heavy in her stomach.
Heaving herself to her feat Marian retrieved her greatsword from where it rested, leaning precariously against the hearth of her estates fireplace. She ignored the groan of her tired joints and muscles as she lifted the considerable burden, sliding it into place in the formidable sheath strapped across her back. She would just have to man up, this wouldn't be the first time she had pulled an all-nighter. Not even the first time in the last fortnight. She just hoped they wouldn't have to face anything nastier than Carta members.
Not surprisingly, her companions were less than thrilled by this latest turn in events. She had found Isabela and Varric and the Hanged Man, predictably enough. By the looks of it if she had gotten there just in time. Any later and they would have been three sheets to the wind. Well, there was no time to let them sober up. They would just have to come as they were. It wasn't like she could scold them, she had spent plenty a night here herself: drinking to forget her sorrows, her seemingly endless responsibilities, pretending she really was the beautiful and infallible heroine Varric spoke of in all his tales.
Anders had been at his clinic, overworked as always. After a long day out helping her vanquish the forces of evil it made her sad to think that he had to return to even more work. Marian suspected he was probably even more accustomed to sleepless nights than she was herself. She waited patiently outside the door as he healed a young child with a broken leg. Briefly she contemplated turning back and going to get the others. What harm would it do to leave him here, to give him one peaceful night?
Enough.
She knew. She would need at least one mage with her if she was going to be dealing with mages, and she still wasn't sure how far she could trust Merrill. Sure the girl was sweet enough, but her naivety and history with blood magic just did not sit comfortably with Hawke.
Aveline had been next on her list. She came along easily enough, although Marian was not blind to the longing look the Guard Captain shot over she shoulder at Donnic. Newlyweds. Hawke thought with some mixture of humor and contempt.
She was glad that her friend was happy. She really was. Lately she just found her opinions of love – and everything that came with it – were too colored by her own romantic failings. Happy couples did nothing but remind her how happy and how couple-y she currently was not – and it was a bitter pill to swallow.
Marian had decided to call on Fenris last. She told herself it was because she was anticipating the moment his face curled in disgust when he learned that she would be needing his blade to assist a mage. An untrained and dangerous mage at that. Not to mention one that she had personally helped avoid The Circle...well, maybe she could just leave those details out.
He certainly wouldn't be thrilled. Not that those were her true reasons for avoiding calling on the elf. She had been the target of Fenris' rage before. He did not scare her, although perhaps he should have, the others certainly seemed on edge enough around him. No, it wasn't his temper she was afraid of. It was the emotional mine field that surrounded him.
Lately it felt like she had to watch her step around Fenris. Any wrong word or movement could set her off. The friendship they had developed – if you could even call it a friendship – was delicate at best. Marian had no idea how he would respond if she just lost control and jumped his bones one day. Well, she had some idea. She knew it wouldn't be good.
Still, she was behaving like a woman possessed. Marian had found him attractive since the first time she laid eyes on him. All blue and glowing, his hand shoved through a slaver's chest, all covered in blood.
Alas, he had ignored even her most persistent attempts at flirting. Seeming, if not completely oblivious, nothing but awkward in the presence of her blatant sexual interest. So instead she acted the part of the loyal friend, all the time believing that she couldn't simply continue becoming more and more infatuated with him. Her affections would have to reach a plateau eventually. Right?
Wrong.
Her once seemingly harmless crush on the ex-slave had developed into nothing short of an obsession. Their weekly reading lessons had become both the highlight of her week and the bane of her existence. The effort it took to not reach across the table and brush back the hair that hung in his face as he sat hunched over the Book of Shartan was nothing short of heroic. Still, she wouldn't give up those few sacred hours alone with the cranky elf for all the gold in Kirkwall.
Varric insisted the others wait outside when they arrived at Danarius's Mansion, insisting that Hawke was better at dealing with the "brooding elf" than all of them combined. Marian wondered if that was the truth or if this was simply another one of the his schemes. If he was trying to set her up he must know the situation was hopelessly one sided. Still, Marian quietly cursed and thanked the dwarf simultaneously for giving her this stolen moment alone with him.
Hawke slipped inside as smoothly as she could manage in her heavy armor. She knew from experience to use the side window, as the front door was usually heavily booby trapped at night. Damn that elf and his paranoia. She thought as she clamored through the small opening in a decidedly unladylike fashion.
Marian knew that by now he would have not only heard her but identified her. She had asked many times how he could tell the clamoring of one set of armor from another, but he never gave away his secrets. Sure enough, she heard the deep rumbling baritone of his voice before she even finished righting herself from her not-so-graceful entrance into his abode.
"Hawke."
"Fenris." She mocked. It was their usual greeting, but no matter how many times she used the fragile joke on him it never failed to provoke a smirk. As close to a genuine smile as he ever got. So she used it still.
"It is late. Why are you here?"
Short and to the point as always. Still it stung a bit. No "Nice to see you" or even an "Is something wrong?" the last being more likely seeing as the hour was so late and she was sure she appeared...frazzled, at best.
"I need your assistance..." She began.
"Then you have it." Fenris gave her a solemn nod and fixed her with an intense gaze. No doubt he was waiting for her to explain exactly what the situation entailed. To give him details of what he might be facing; but Marian was already having a hard time concentrating. She could feel her pulse quickening under his gaze. When he stared at her like that she felt like cornered prey, waiting to be pounced on by a ravenous wolf. She loved it.
Focus.
"There will be mages, possibly more than one. That is all I know..." she waited for his response. A frown. Any indication of his displeasure with the involvement of magic, but he just looked at her expectantly as if waiting for more.
"A boy named Feynriel that we – I – assisted before. Perhaps Varric has told you – ?"
" I have heard of the boy yes." he cut her off. Disapproval now coloring his tone. Well, what had she expected. Of course he was unhappy that she had let a mage walk free.
"Will you still help us then?" she could hear the uncertainty that laced her own tone and she nearly flinched at her own weakness. She hated that his opinion affected her so.
"Although I may not agree, I respect your decisions," A moment of silence passed between them and Marian could have sworn she saw a blush coloring the tips of his ears. Then, almost as if he was unsure if she had understood his meaning he added. " I will help you Hawke."
His choice of words did not escape her, and she mumbled a quick word in thanks and hurried from his mansion before she could do something she would regret.
AUTHORS NOTE: This is the first fan-fiction I have written so please be gentle. That is all for now. Thanks for reading.