"This has to be the most wretched, disastrous, misadventure!" Hawke cried out in frustration as Varric unlocked the door to his room at the Hanged Man.
"Right. The Deep Roads expedition by comparison was merely…eventful?" Varric asked, somewhat peeved. "Because, you know, brotherly betrayal, loss of a family member to the Wardens thanks to the Darkspawn, are a downright success compared to…killing a Tevinter mage who wanted us all dead and freeing condemned slaves. If only one of us had fallen down a cliff, or chipped a nail, now THAT would have been-"
"Stop it, Varric. We're both tired. And edgy."
Hawke stumbled into the spacious room and dragged the heavy wool blanket off Varric's bed. She threw it in front of the fireplace and collapsed over it, on the ground.
"I cannot move another inch. Everything hurts."
"Can't make it up the hill at all?"
"I don't want to go home right now. Let me stay here."
Varric leaned Bianca next to his bed.
"I don't mind any gossip that might begin to run the rounds once the fine clientele of this establishment catches wind that you spent the night with me."
"I don't either. It adds to the pot. Let them talk."
She had turned away and hunkered down with the piled up blanket. He sighed heavily and walked over to the fireplace. He reached down and tossed a couple logs into the smoldering fire.
"Any idea where he went?"
She deliberately avoided his gaze.
"Who knows? I've been fueling this affection all by myself, it seems."
Varric nodded, making his way to the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress, unfastening his heavy, muddy boots, and kicked them off over the frayed bedside rug.
"What do you mean?"
"He gives me very little to work with. Perhaps that should be my cue to back off and let him be. Apparently, I only make things worse."
They both fell silent as a quick rap sounded outside the door. They exchanged wary looks. It was the middle of the night.
"Varric, it's Isabela. Is Hawke with you?"
"Yes. Now go away."
She rapped on the door again, just to spite him.
"I'm going to let her in," he grumbled.
"You'd better, or she will keep at it until she gets tired and decides to pick the lock."
He opened the door to find Isabela staring at him.
"Is she alright?"
"A night with me and she will be fresh as a rose," he said sarcastically.
"Hawke, do you want to sleep in my room?" Isabela called out to her.
"What? And risk being mistakenly stabbed by some vengeful mark- or worse!- some eager paramour?" Varric teased.
"I won't be needing my quarters tonight- I will be…elsewhere. She might be more comfortable in my room than on your dirty floor."
"You forgot to mention on my dirty blanket."
"I am fine, Isabela. Thank you," Hawke replied tiredly.
Varric and Isabela traded glances.
"The expedition?"
"Let me see. We found the Tevinter mage who was hunting Fenris. She unleashed a bunch of well-trained guards on us and toasted our asses with fire bolts, but we managed to disarm her. And then Fenris proceeded to 'disheart' her. Oh, and we saved a slave girl. And even more spectacular, Hawke is giving her employment."
Isabela shook her head reproachfully.
"Always bringing home strays. At least one thing you have in common with that daft Anders."
"So, to answer your question, it was a disaster."
Isabela blinked.
"What?"
"People are trying to sleep here. Take your banter elsewhere," Hawke interrupted.
"Fenris. He stormed off after some very unbecoming behavior. Not even a thank you," Varric tilted his head towards Hawke.
"Typical of men to change once they get what they want."
"That's the problem," Varric stated. "Hawke was hoping he wanted what she was willing to give..."
"Hawke, dear, you'll get over that striking, strong, handsome elf with the most magnetic eyes and alluring lips. Alas, you will never find out how far those markings go down into his trousers…"
Hawke did not reply. Varric looked at Isabela and shrugged.
"Blight! She didn't not even tsk me. Is it really that bad?"
"We are both approaching a delusional state from exhaustion."
"Do you want me to fetch Anders?"
"See? Delusion already. You're actually being helpful and nice."
Isabela stepped away from the door.
"I'll check in again tomorrow."
She cast a parting glance at Hawke's huddled figure.
"Take care of her."
"I am on it."
"As long as you are not on her."
"Don't you have to go swindle some poor sod somewhere?"
She turned away with a tart grin.
"Varric?"
"What?" he cried exasperatedly.
"I think Bianca has a scratch."
He slammed the door shut against her laughter. Hawke heard him walk around the room, open the wardrobe to hang up his coat, unfasten his belt, and finally, halt before his bed. It creaked as he slipped between the sheets.
"Night-" he called out, exhausted. "Or morning. I don't know. Don't care. Ah, shit," he groaned.
From the moment she met Fenris, she felt they were talking circles around each other. She was ever mindful of what she said around him. The smallest things appeared to bring out his stormier disposition. He was endlessly suspicious and mistrustful. What was it that drew her to him? She had never been the romantic, dreamy type, not even when younger. She liked clarity. You do, or you don't. You say what you feel and think honestly. You don't play games. She had no patience for mercurial relationships. She felt a pang of sadness.
I miss Bethany. Oh, Maker. I could tell her these things and she always knew what to say.
She couldn't help herself, she thought. This was beyond her control. She loved Fenris. To be fair, she reasoned, she loved all her friends— it was just how she was: loyal, helpful. But Fenris had been different. I see something in him- something beyond this sadness that fills his being. He has a noble heart. A beautiful spirit- anyone else who endured the violence he experienced would have emerged broken. And yet, he struggles to find his path, his place in this world. She realized with a start: We are not that different, he and I. But I knew kindness. I have had love. I had a family that taught me that only I could set my limitations. But not Fenris. I cannot imagine what it was like being told day after day that the only purpose of his existence was to serve others without discernment. And yet he fights to be whole, to be his own person. She squeezed her eyes shut, the sting of tears unpleasant. I just want him to be happy. I just wish I could help him. I wish he could see what an extraordinary man he has become.
She replayed the events of their incursion through her head again and again. They had all been horrified when they had run into the exsanguinated body of an older elf. As Fenris explained the purpose behind the gruesome ritual, the anger barely contained behind his words, she could feel him change, escape further into his own head, further from them, into his own rage.
They had come across a young elf girl— Orana — slender and delicate. As she stared at the corpses littering the courtyard, she asked, quietly, if they had come to be her new masters. Fenris bristled at her words, shouting, "No!" The poor girl had appeared utterly confused. She spoke of her father's death calmly, but Hawke could see her tremble as she recalled the events.
What is it like to have to stash away your emotions because you aren't allowed to have them? Because they are inconvenient to others? she thought sadly.
She had placed all her coin- a pouch- in the girl's hands, but she knew, from her lost expression, that it would not help and the thoughts nagged at her.
She will die. She will not know how to survive. She will fall prey to people who would exploit her innocence, she will be eaten alive. We did not free her for this! As they began to run down a narrow corridor, she abruptly turned around and ran back towards the elf.
"Orana!" she cried out. Aveline, Varric, and Fenris watched her run to the girl. "Orana! I would like it if you came to work for me!" Orana's bright eyes widened.
"Yes, of course. I can cook and clean and—"
"I know you will do well."
Hawke gave her explicit directions, her signet ring, and instructed her to walk straight to the gates, present the signet, and go directly to Hightown, to the Hawke estate. Bodahn and her mother would know how to take it from there. At this point, they did not flinch at yet another odd request from her delivered at their doorstep. They saw Orana out of the courtyard, to the cave entrance, and watched her disappear down the road. Aveline placed her hand on her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.
"She'll be alright now. We cleared this path coming in and once she gets down to the main road leading to Kirkwall, she'll be among my guards and all the traders making their way back and forth from the city. She won't be bothered. You did a good thing, friend."
Fenris glowered at her.
"I had no idea you were in the market for a slave."
Hawke squinted at Fenris in confusion.
"What? What slave? Fenris, I am going to pay Orana to work for me. If she decides at some point to move on to something else, she will be free to go!"
How dare you? she thought angrily. Do you think so little of me still?
She noticed slight embarrassment cross his face.
"You intend to pay her then?"
"Yes. She'll be working for me and earning an honest wage for it."
"Then… That's a good thing."
He turned on his heels and began marching back towards the passageway into the building. Hawke shook her head in disbelief.
And it had gotten worse from there. When they had finally defeated Hadriana's guards and brought her, literally, to the ground, she had hoped Aveline would be the one escorting her to the gallows. Fenris negotiated an uneasy truce in exchange for information, but one look at his furious eyes upon hearing about his sister, made her realize that any interference would be unwelcome. He had reneged on his word to Hadriana, startling them with a display of brutality. As Hadriana's corpse lay on the cold stone ground, she approached him with concern.
"Do you want to talk about this?"
"No!" he shouted. I don't want to talk about it!" He appeared to be mocking her in his fury. Varric and Aveline wisely backed out of the chamber. He went on about how the story about his sister was likely a trap, how Danarius had probably set things up that way.
Is this fear, Fenris? To have had nothing for so long and suddenly have a faint glimmer of who you are? What do you fear?
She reached out and placed her hand gently on his shoulder.
"Maybe we should leave," she offered calmly. He shook her hand off.
"You saw what was done here," he accused. "There is always going to be some excuse for mages to act the way they do," he continued. It came back to mages, to magic, to the magisters. She listened to him in quiet bewilderment. "What has magic touched that it hasn't spoiled?" he spat.
Cruel, she thought. They would never see eye to eye on that. In his mind's eye mages were the source of all misery. And to him, they probably were. But to her…She thought of her father, his warm smile, his calm voice and wise words, or her beloved sister and how she often risked herself for the sake of others. Hawke was who she was because both of them had held her to a higher standard. He must have sensed the hurt he'd dealt her, since he rubbed his forehead and announced sullenly that he had to go.
She, Varric, and Aveline hobbled down the path back towards the main roads and hitched a ride with a wine merchant transporting his wares in a wagon to Kirkwall. Every little jolt on the road made her body ache. The three remained silent during their short ride and she was grateful to Aveline, who payed the man for his help and waved Varric and her through once they crossed the city gates.
"They're with me on personal matters affecting the Guard," she explained in a tone filled with authority.
She had no idea where Fenris could have gone and part of her was angry that she even cared. He'd acted horribly despite their willingness to help him. What else did she need to do to show him that he had in her a loyal friend, someone he could depend on? The crushing realization came to her suddenly:
Maybe he doesn't want any of this…this friendship, this closeness I keep thrusting at him. Maybe I've got it all wrong. I got what I deserve. I'm just a busybody, trying to make everything right. But right according to whom? I got it all wrong. I made it all worse. I don't know him at all. Here I thought I was helping him. Here I thought I had what he needed. I am an idiot. A huge idiot.
She buried her face in the blanket, but lifted her face slightly, in disgust.
"For the love of Andraste, Varric! Even my Mabari's blanket smells better than this!" she shouted.