Written for this prompt on the dragonage_kink livejournal: "Sooo... Hawke and Co. go on another mission to take down slavers/blood mages/bandits/etc. and as Fenris is the muscle of the group he's the one to charge into the middle of the battle. Among other things they manage to rescue a hostage - a young, female hostage (pre-teen or teen preferred). now, seeing as Fenris did most of the actual fighting/rescuing she latches onto Fenris as her hero and starts following him around. Puppy-crush extravaganza please.

Fen is not amused. His friends all the more."

I.

The knock was soft and timid, barely more than a scratch at the door.

Tap tap.

Fenris took a long pull off the wine bottle. Whoever it was would go away if he ignored it long enough.

Tap tap, a little louder this time.

It couldn't be Hawke; she'd left on her Deep Roads expedition this very morning. Besides, she never knocked when she wanted to come and poke at him. She seemed to find his temperament amusing.

Bah. She was a mage; she would show her true colors soon enough. Then he could be rid of her and the... confusion that came with her in good conscience.

Tap tap. Insistent now.

"Faugh." Fenris got up and plodded down to the foyer. Whoever it was had better have the sense to run from the drunken elf with the massive sword on his back. He threw open the door. "What is it?" he growled.

A thin, dirty, human child wrapped in a patched cloak stood on his stoop. Its eyes widened at the sight of Fenris, but instead of running, it began to babble.

"Oh, it is you! I knew this was the right building. I watched and I was sure this was the door you went in. I thought for sure I'd never see you again and you never told me your name, and Cat and Tig wouldn't believe me when I told them but then I saw you in Lowtown and- and I followed you."

"Begone urchin," Fenris said, waving his hand. "I have no coin for you."

"No! I- I'm not here for coin," the child said, stepping forward to preemptively block Fenris from closing the door. "It's taken me a week to get up the nerve to knock. It's only— I- I just— you saved me. I- I wanted to say thank you." The child shrugged.

"I saved you?" That seemed highly unlikely.

"We was running packages for Big Tom even though Evelina said we mustn't trust him. But she's gone in the Circle and we needed money for food." She looked down at her feet. "I'm the oldest, so I said we should. So then one day he grabs me up and says I'm the package now on account of how I'm getting bubbies. These other men came and took me to a warehouse with some other girls and I heard them saying how we'd fetch a fine price once we was washed up.

"Then you came and you saved us. You were all glowing like- like something magical out of a story. You swung your sword like this," she threw her arm in a wide arc to demonstrate. "And chopped their heads right off! Blood spurted everywhere. It was amazing."

"Hmm. Well. Ah- you're welcome," Fenris said. Had there been children in that slaver's warehouse? He couldn't recall. Hawke was the one who'd taken on the slave gangs that prowled the docks at night. He'd gone along in order to kill a lot of slavers, and that had been satisfying.

The child remained on the stoop, gazing up at him like a kitten waiting for milk.

"Was there anything else?" Fenris asked gruffly.

"Is this really where you live?" the girl said, trying to peer around him. "I'm very good at cleaning."

"I enjoy the squalor."

"Oh." The girl's face fell. She had dirty brown hair tied back in a tangled, messy plait. "Um. Is your sword heavy? How did you learn how to fight like that? Do you think I could learn how to fight? Tig says girls can't be fighters, but I told him he's a lying filthy bastard 'cos my mam was a soldier. She was at Ostagar. She gave me this before she left, but it's no good." The girl pulled a short sword out from under her cloak.

Fenris tensed and swore in Arcanum. "Foolish child. Never draw a weapon on someone unless you intend to use it." He took the sword from her and ran his thumb on the edge. "It has been blunted for practice, see? Not everyone will overlook your youth and ignorance—they will only see a bared weapon. Many would take it as an invitation to relieve you of your head."

"I knew it wasn't sharp," the girl said. "If it'd been sharp, I could've killed the darkspawn that killed grandad. I'll get a sharp one someday though. A big one, like yours. And I'll kill everything bad." She snatched the practice sword from Fenris's hand and swung it over her head. "If I knew how to fight like you..."

"Well, you don't." Fenris said, pushing the door closed. He wanted another drink, and he didn't want this human child pestering him anymore. His head was starting to ache.

"No, I guess not," the girl said, slumping her shoulders. She turned to go.

Damn it. Fenris scowled and stomped over to her. "You'll break your wrist the first time you hit something holding the blade like that. Hold it like this," he said, roughly grabbing her hand and showing her the proper grip. "Now go and do not bother me again."

"All right," the girl said, her grubby face alight with an enormous crooked toothy grin. "I won't. I promise. Thank you!"

Two days later he came home and found her waiting on his step. She'd tried to scrub her face, but streaks of dirt still covered her forehead.

"Are you a mage?" she asked, standing as he walked up.

"What? No. Where did you get such an obscene idea?" he said, fumbling with the lock.

"You was glowing, like... magic," the girl said, clasping her hands together. "When you killed those men. I've only known one mage, and she's in the Circle now. She saved me too, sort of. She brought me along with her and all the others when we left Ferelden. She says she's going to get the templars to help us, but they scare me. I only thought, if you was a mage too—"

"I am not a mage," Fenris said through gritted teeth. "Those men who captured you, they were going to sell you to magisters. Mages who would have used your body and your mind until you were little more than a husk, and then they would've used your blood to fuel their wretched lust for power. Do not ever equate me with their foul kind."

"All- all right, I won't," the girl said. She'd gone pale and it made the dirt smears on her face stand out even more.

"Why are you here?" Fenris demanded. "This is hardly 'not bothering' me."

She plucked at her shabby skirt. "I only— I thought maybe if I was quiet and didn't move at all you might let me watch you when you practice. Mam let me watch her when I was little." She stuck her chin out defiantly.

"No." Fenris said.

"But- I can be quiet," the girl said. Her voice got reedy and higher. "I just don't know how to get stronger. I want to be strong, like you, so I can use a sword like that and fight like you. You wouldn't notice me at all, I'd hide in a corner or someplace. I'm good at hiding."

"No," Fenris repeated. He sighed. "Will you go away if I tell you how to get stronger?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

"Really go away, not just for a few days," he added, glowering.

She nodded again.

"Build your muscles," Fenris said. "Lift things that are heavy. Look at a blacksmith's arms and think about how he works day in and day out. Eat meat stew every day. If you cannot pay for it, hunt rats. Just make sure you cook them through before you eat them. Find a staff about the size of the sword you wish to eventually wield and practice swinging it every day. Each time it touches your body, think how much worse it would be if it had been a sharp blade. And do not bother me again."

"No, I won't. No more bothering," she said. "Promise." She bit her lip. "Would you tell me your name before I go? Mine's Lizbet. Walter tried to call me Bitty but I punched him in the bollocks."

He paused. "Fenris."

II.

"Fenris!" The voice rang out from across the Lowtown bazaar. Fenris stopped in his tracks and scanned the crowd.

"Someone you know?" Hawke asked. He and Hawke were supposed to be looking for the elven mercenary who had stolen the Qunari poison gas. Hawke had invited Isabela and the mage, Anders.

A wiry human girl with an enormous staff strapped to her back approached. Fenris narrowed his eyes. A mage?

"Fenris," she said, grinning widely. Her front teeth were crooked.

"Ah," he said. "You." She was taller, nearly of a height with Fenris, and had chopped her hair off haphazardly. She was wearing trousers and was barely distinguishable from the lanky boy who trailed behind her.

"Ah, me," she said grinning again. "This is Tig. He never would believe me when I told him how you came flying in like- like a magical glowing whirlwind and saved me." Her face flushed. "It was the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

"Well. That's... nice," Fenris said.

"I'm much better now," she said, touching her staff. "I haven't banged myself in the head for nearly a year. I started looking at swords, but they're really expensive. Especially the big ones like you have."

"Yes," Fenris said. He could feel his companions eyes on him.

"Well. Um, I'll see you around maybe?" the girl said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Right," he said, as she turned and left.

All three of his companions spoke at once.

"Magical glowing whirlwind?" Anders said.

"The most amazing thing she's ever seen?" Hawke said.

"Especially the big ones like you have?" Isabela said.

"Shut up," Fenris said.

"Ohh, look at how she walks," Isabela said, pointing. The girl was padding away softly in a clear imitation of Fenris. "You've got a tiny little you!"

The next time, she was waiting for him outside the Hanged Man. She sat on top of a barrel, her legs swinging, her staff across her knees. She had a dark smudge on one cheek.

"Fenris hi!" she said, jumping off her perch and following him into the tavern.

"You," he said.

"Lizbet," she said, gawking at the tavern patrons.

Fenris saw Anders walking up the stairs towards Varric's rooms. Isabela was leaning on the bar. When her eyes landed on Fenris, she grinned and started towards him.

"You're friends with the healer," Lizbet said with a tinge of accusation. "He was with you in Lowtown. He's a mage."

"He is not my friend," Fenris said. "He is friends with my friend. There is a difference."

"I took Cat to him once after she got caught alone by the Rat Lord's gang. Them Ratters are brutal, especially to girls. He patched her up all right, but I kept my eye on him so he couldn't use any foul dark magics."

Fenris grunted, amused at the thought of Anders being menaced by this child.

Isabela walked up, drink in hand. "Fenris. Tiny Fenris," she said, nodding. "I'm Isabela, by the way," she said, offering her free hand.

Lizbet flushed pink and looked at her feet. She mumbled her name and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" Fenris asked suddenly.

"Oh- I was—" Lizbet glanced from Fenris to Isabela and sighed. "I'll talk to you soon," she said. She walked out, head down.

Isabela threw her free arm over Fenris's shoulders. "Aww," she sighed. "They grow up so fast."

"Please shut up."

It was three weeks before Lizbet turned up on his doorstep again.

He'd finally confronted Hadriana and felt her life drain from her body as he crushed her heart. It had been satisfying. At least, he thought it had. Or wished it had.

It should have been.

Why had she told him about a sister? There was no sister, he was sure of it. She'd said it just to toy with him, as she always had. But what if he was wrong? If he truly had a sister, she would be in danger for as long as Fenris was free and Danarius was alive.

And then there was Hawke. He'd hurt her by walking out, he saw it in her eyes that night, though thankfully she acted as though nothing had happened. She was a mage and he should be glad to be rid of such a dangerous entanglement. Yet he was not.

Faugh. He did not like all this confusion and feelings. He wished Hawke had a job for them; he wanted something to kill. Barring that, he was going to drink.

The blasted urchin must have been hiding in the greenery. She slipped into the foyer as soon as Fenris opened the door to go in.

"Leave immediately and I will allow you to keep your hands," he said, not sparing her a look.

"But— I— I've messed everything up," she said with a hitch in her voice. "I just wanted coin for a sword, and this friend of Tig's said he could set me up with good paying work so I said yes. Only it was Coterie work and now his gang says they own my hide and I'll work for 'em as long as they want and I'm just lucky I don't have to work on my back." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "But they're bad, like Big Tom was. I don't want to do that kind of work. They say they'll kill me and Tig and Walter and all the others if I don't."

Fenris scowled. "You have made your choices. You must live with them," he said. "Now leave."

"Fine," she said rubbing the back of her hand over her nose. "Fine. You aren't so great after all, are you." She slammed the door as she left.

Hawke flitted from side to side, her staff flashing and sending fireballs to one target, lightning to another, then a quick jolt of healing magic to Fenris. He still wasn't quite used to that. It was useful, and certainly faster than having to dig out some poultice before passing out from loss of blood, but it meant trusting a mage with your life in the heat of battle frenzy. It was disconcerting, even if the mage was Hawke.

"There we go," she said as Fenris ran the last thug through with his sword. "It's so nice when you can take satisfaction in a job well done, don't you think?"

"Andraste's cherry-flavored navel, was that the last one? Please say it was the last one," Varric said, running over from his vantage point.

"I don't know," Hawke said, looking at Fenris. "Was that the last one?"

Fenris stretched his neck and rolled his sword arm forward and back. "Yes. We're done here."

Varric threw Bianca over his shoulder. "Good. Drinks at the Hanged Man. You're buying—the good stuff. And while we're there, you can explain why your idea of a relaxing evening is running through Darktown, killing as many low-level Coterie thugs you can find."

The next day Fenris awoke to his body singing a veritable Chant of Pain. His head ached and his mouth was a parched desert. His body was sore and bruised. And some unholy demon of torment was banging on his door.

Fenris opened the door a crack, resisting the urge to lean on it. The urchin was there, her arms folded tight across her chest. Fenris sighed and opened the door wide enough to let her in.

"I was moving into Lowtown with some people Lirene told me about when Tig comes and says someone cleaned out a bunch of Coterie bastards in Darktown last night," she said after a moment.

"Is that so?" Fenris said.

"He said they'd be crippled for months and that folks who had verbal agreements ought to count themselves lucky."

"They should also stay out of Darktown for a long while," Fenris said. "Keeping to Lowtown would be smart."

She nodded and started to smile, showing her crooked teeth.

He sighed again. His head was throbbing. "I practice in the ballroom. Mornings," he finally said. "There's a decent sword on the weapons rack."

III.

Fenris felt... something approaching contentment. Danarius was dead. Varania lived, but perhaps that wasn't terrible after all. Hawke inexplicably still cared for him in spite of his foolish, broken attempts at pushing her away.

He had friends. He had regular appointments for drinks with Varric, cards with Donnic, and both with Isabela.

He had a future. What it would contain was nebulous and uncertain, but it was enough to know it was there.

And now he had the Captain of the Guard in his house for her weekly ritual: The Reading of Hightown Complaints Against one serah Fenris, noted elf.

"I put a new curtain up," he said defensively.

"Fenris, that... curtain already had a long and full life as a bedsheet. You don't hang them up in your window when they're too ragged to sleep on."

"Duly noted," Fenris said.

Aveline frowned. She walked over to the window—not the one with the bedsheet curtain—and rubbed the glass with her thumb, making a clean spot in the grime. "Donnic brought in a new recruit to the barracks last week," she said. "He said he found her at a diamondback game."

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "And this is relevant to my inapropriate curtains how?"

"She's raw, but has the basics fairly well in hand," Aveline went on. "Seems rather partial to the greatsword. Unusual for commoner women."

"Hmm. Chalk one up for the Guard," Fenris said, beating his chest in a mock salute.

"Strange though, she tends to swear in Arcanum when she misses a blow." Aveline turned her eyes to meet Fenris's.

"A grave crime indeed," Fenris said, holding her gaze.

Aveline looked away and straightened her shoulders. "Well. Just... try to keep the bedsheets inside," she said. She started for the door, pausing at Fenris's side. She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, once. "I'll see you next week," she said, smiling.

After she'd left Fenris allowed his mouth to turn up in a hint of a smile. The future might be bleak and chaotic and frightening. But then again, it might not.