Yes, yes, I know: everyone is up to their knees in exiting new love-affairs but I couldn't leave my favourite couple behind just like that. Hence this short story. I simply wasn't able to stop thinking how Fenris would react to Hawke's decisions, her rather stupid and thoughtless decisions in my opinion (what the hell drove that woman to abandon her hard won elf in the first place) but who am I to criticize.

Hope you like it.

Give me an answer

Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose. She had been pouring over old books and trying to decipher scarcely readable scribbles on crumbling parchment for hours now and a dull throbbing pain had started at the back of her head. A servant had put a plate with food next to her on the table but she had hardly touched the now cold meat and vegetables and had only taken two or three bites from the gone stale dark bread. Now and again she had sipped from the cup holding red wine. She took a larger gulp now, hoping it would still the upcoming irritating headache. She let out a deep sigh. The library of Weisshaupt Fortress was well stocked; in fact she had never before visited a place that held so many volumes. Nevertheless the information about red lyrium was almost non-existent and even though she had found some notes considering Corypheus, it hadn't helped much. Let alone she had found a connection between the two unsavoury topics. She could imagine the Grey Wardens weren't particularly proud of the episode with the ancient Tevinter magister, or whatever he was, but in the end they weren't the ones who had unleashed the beast and set it loose on the world.

She felt responsible for this perilous chaos. It had been her father who had been forced by Grey Wardens to bind Corypheus in his prison and he had invented the intricate seals to keep him hidden from the world in a place where he could do no harm. And she, his daughter of all people, had freed him. Not for the first time she wondered what game their guide Larius had played. He had been more than excited she had turned up and although he had insisted he wanted her to slay the Tevinter magister of old or some unique and extremely dangerous kind of darkspawn or whatever the monster represented, she now couldn't shake off the feeling the former Grey Warden Commander had known Corypheus couldn't be killed by simple human weapons. That he had used her to free him from the magical shackles her father had made. For a time Hawke had been convinced Janeka had been as deluded as Larius had seemed to be, be it in another way; in fact she still was. The Warden had insisted she wanted to liberate Corypheus to use him as a weapon against the blights. Hawke had to smile thinly at the thought. The idea Corypheus could be used for whatever means was almost funny if the matter hadn't been so grievously. But by now she doubted the intentions of Larius. He had accused Janeka of falling for the alluring call of the old magister but she had been asking herself for a while if he himself hadn't been already under his influence. Perhaps both had been.

And she and her companions had been caught up in the middle, thinking to do the only thing that could solve the mess. They thought they had been proven right after they had seemed to have slaughtered the creepy power-mad idiot. Hawke clenched her fists. He had been dead, godsdamned; no-one with so many lethal wounds, inflicted by knife, sword, crossbow bolts and mage-fire alike, lying in a pool of his own blood, ought to be alive. And besides that he hadn't been breathing and there had been no pulse. They had checked his condition, his very dead condition, thoroughly. And now the fiend had risen from that death as the embodiment of evil, threatening to drag the whole world into the maelstrom of his megalomaniacal vision. She was well aware Varric felt guilty about it, being convinced he was the one who had set the whole thing into motion. She sighed. The dwarf felt unnecessarily guilty about a lot of things. He even blamed himself for introducing red lyrium to the world. As if they had known up forehand what awaited them in the Deep Roads. As if he and his brother had been the only ones risking the dangers of that blasted area to acquire riches, as if she hadn't been part of it. She wondered where he had caught such feelings of responsibility; she supposed the dreadful events in Kirkwall and everything that had followed from it had coloured his mind. And probably the interrogation of the Seeker Cassandra hadn't helped much. But in the end it had been her blood and her decisions that had made the current nightmare possible. Varric was just another victim of her actions.

She had been the best part of a week in Weisshaupt by now and she had travelled to the place with a heavy heart. It hadn't been easy to tell the First Warden about what happened at Adamant, of the corruption of the Warden mages and the terrible mistake commander Clarel had made though the woman had put it right in the end. She had paid for it with her life, as had Stroud who had died as a hero in her eyes. The First Warden in Weisshaupt had taken their deaths quite lightly, far too lightly to her taste.

'They were Grey Wardens, they were supposed to fight darkspawn,' he had said nonchalantly after she had updated him about the gruesome and disturbing occurrences, 'they were not the first to fall in that everlasting battle, they won't be the last.'

Hawke had had a hard time to refrain herself from hitting the man and wipe the infuriating impassive expression off his face. She could clearly remember that crucial moment when the Inquisitor made her decision and condemned Stroud to his death. The moment the man with whom she had quarrelled not minutes before over who would make the sacrifice to allow the others a safe escape, valorously drew his blade and without second thought attacked the nightmare that stood between them and their safe return to reality. At the cost of his own life.

And she could still see Varric's desperate and deeply hurt look when she without thinking had vehemently stated she should be the one to give them a potential retreat because Stroud should rebuild and lead the Warden forces at Adamant. 'I bet Fenris will be highly thankful for your grant gesture,' she had heard him mutter and she had almost crumpled under his words.

Fenris.

She missed him so much it physically hurt. But she couldn't take the risk of him dying for her. Not again. He had been gravely injured during the battle in Kirkwall's Gallows because he had thrown himself between her and the completely gone insane Knight Commander Meredith. Her with red lyrium infected sword had skewered him and she hadn't even noticed it at the moment. He hadn't himself until the adrenaline had drained and he had collapsed during their flight to the hills surrounding the city. At that moment she had been utterly thankful she had decided to let Anders live – for the moment. He had been Fenris's saviour, whether the elf liked it or not. The mage had done everything to save Fenris's life but it had been a near call. The whole night the elf's life had hung on a very thin thread and after she was certain he had survived she had hold him in her arms during the following day, stroking his soft white hair, wiping his sweaty brow, caressing the tanned skin of his beloved body and tenderly kissing his face. She had told him several times over she loved him dearly and he meant everything to her, even though she wasn't certain he could hear her because he was still unconscious at the time, only slowly recovering from his in fact lethal wound. And in the middle of the following night she had disappeared, leaving him behind. The thought of him giving his life for her once more had been too much; she had to save him and at that moment the only way to accomplish that was to abandon him. The mere thought of him being ripped away from the world of the living made her panic if not going into an uncontrollable fright; she hadn't been able to think clearly. She still wasn't. Not when it came down to him. Yes, she missed him like hell but at least she knew he was still alive and would likely survive the ordeals Thedas had to handle.

The only person belonging to the old bunch she had been in touch with was Varric; she frequently sent him messages and he answered with coded letters his small army of confidents left in secret places, only for her for find. And so she learned Fenris had feverishly searched for her and when it became clear to him she didn't want to be found had taken his frustration out on slavers who were prying on Kirkwall refugees. Good. Those were feeble adversaries, they formed little risk of taking his life. As long as she knew he would live on, she was satisfied. After all the members of her family, the persons so dear to her, had perished she wouldn't be able to cope with his death. She'd rather live without him but with the knowledge he was safe than carry the burden he died because of her.

And she didn't even realise how selfish or even hurtful that line of reasoning was. Not until the utter confrontation.

Fenris will die Fenris will die Fenris will die ... will die will die ... those words, uttered by that horrible creature while she and the ones with her were trapped in the Fade kept swirling through her mind and still scared the wits out off her. Even now, while safely sitting at a table in the Weisshaupt library, it nearly brought her to tears. He had almost died because of her. It still shocked her to the core. He will not die, she thought grimly and was even more satisfied with her decision to leave him behind in Kirkwall. To give him a chance to survive this madness. She looked at herself and saw an angel of death. Wherever she went, destruction followed. She pursed her lips. But not for him. Never for him. She loved him too much to let him throw his life away for her.

She rubbed her forehead and let out another sigh. She would gain nothing by dwelling on her feelings for Fenris besides an uncontrollable yearning and a bitter sense of loss. When this whole ordeal was over, she promised herself, she would go back to him and let every probably well-earned accusation and tongue-lash come over her. She could explain her motives. She would make him see ... If this ordeal ever came to an end. If they could defeat Corypheus. On the other hand, if not they would all perish and nothing would matter anymore. No! She mustn't think that way. They would win. They had to. But would her elf be able to forgive her? Would he even listen to her? She emptied her cup in one go. This was not the time to ponder that issue. It was another thought she had to abandon.

And once over she missed the one-sided vision in this particular reasoning. But then again, everything considering Fenris brought her to irrational reasoning.

Instead she let her thoughts swirl back to the confrontation with the First Warden. The man might have reacted unruffled to the death of Clarel and Stroud, he actually had been furious about what happened at Adamant, though, to her astonishment not so much because they had made a pact with the Tevinters, or rather Corypheus through the Venatori, but far more because the Grey Wardens had become a part of the Inquisition. 'What the hell were they thinking!' he had fumed, 'Grey Wardens are supposed to fight darkspawn, not some crack in the sky! Let alone they should ally with those Chantry-lovers!'

And again Hawke had had a hard time not to whack him around the ears. But at least he had given her permission to stay and make use of the library. He even had offered her the use of a rather luxurious accommodation, a suite fit for a princess.

'Milady?'

She got ripped away from her dark contemplations by the librarian. He lightly touched her arm and she could just suppress the reflex of knocking him dead out. She sharply inhaled some air and forced herself to smile at the young man who had been as gallant and cooperative as to search for books and scrolls concerning Corypheus and red lyrium.

Milady. After all the years she still wasn't used to be nobility. Didn't care, to be frank. Nevertheless she conjured that disarming smile. 'Yes?'

'I'm sorry, Milady, but it's way past ten bells ...' his voice lingered and Hawke realized with sudden insight the pour young man must have had a sunny idea of going to the tavern and have a good time if it hadn't been for her keeping him in this dusty place for too long.

'No,' she retorted, 'I'm the one who is sorry. Go and have fun. I will retreat to my chambers.' She sent him a new though somewhat artificial smile which he nevertheless reciprocated with warm enthusiasm. She stood up and left the library to go to her personal rooms.

When she entered the bedroom she immediately got aware of the presence of someone else. And not just anyone. She froze. This can't be true ... The room was lit by bright moonlight but even had it been pitch-dark she would just have felt him. The part of her that had incessantly reached out for him and she had fervently tried to smother, to no avail she knew all too well, now screamed out at the top of its lungs. The faint aroma of wild forest with a hint of sweet jasmine that always surrounded him entered her nostrils even though he was at the other side of the room and she knew it was more due to her senses working overdrive than she could smell his scent in reality. Damn. Involuntarily she got stopped in her tracks and stood as if turned to stone. For a short moment she was tempted to flee but she couldn't move.

He stood at the opened window, seemingly absentmindedly staring into the star sprinkled and moon filled night; he didn't even turn his head at the vague rumour she made while entering her private space. She easily recognized his features in the bright moonlight, (fuck it, even blindfolded she would have recognized them), the delicate way he held his head just a little askew, the form of his frame, his perfect chiselled face, his elegant hands resting on the window-sill. The full moon bathed him in white light and made his hair look like liquid silver. She drank it all in, like a thirsty traveller who had finally arrived at a much longed for tavern after a lengthy journey through a dry hostile country; but she still was shocked to the core and unable to react.

'Fenris,' she managed to breathe after long stretched moments.

How the hell had he managed to find her? And then she remembered Varric's injured, if not to say furious look. Of course. The dwarf would not have hesitated to reveal her hiding spot to her lover after what had happened in the Fade. Out of anger or fear or perhaps even out of some kind of revenge she couldn't tell but she should have seen it coming. She already opened her mouth to vent her annoyance or worries or whatever feeling that was trying to take her over when Fenris finally turned to her.

'Hawke,' he said, outwardly emotionless but the use of the surname spoke volumes. Her mouth snapped shut again. She wasn't exactly sure whether his strained posture resembled the icy cold of a glacier or the scorching heat of a volcano. She tried to brace herself against his next words or rather forestall them by giving a hasty and heated explanation of why she had left him and only then noticed the deep shadows under his eyes and the lines in his face that were evidence of infinite grief and suffering. The words died in her throat. She wanted to run to him to kiss away his sorrow but stood nailed to the ground.

'I thought we had a relation, a relation built on mutual respect and on trust,' he started with a soft voice, dark and slightly hoarse, a rough velvet voice coated with dark melted sugar that rasped down her spine, 'but it seems I was wrong and we are not of the same mind. Apparently you don't trust me enough to let me be around you. Apparently your distrust made you creep away like a thief in the night. Without any hint or warning.' He didn't sound angry, at least not yet. Instead there was a barely hidden sadness in his tone combined with – she couldn't describe it. Desolation? Agony? Disappointment?

It made her even more unable to react.

'Not a letter telling why you were gone, Hawke, not even a short note explaining why you walked out on me. Do you even comprehend how that made me feel? To discover I mean that little to you? That you don't love me anymore, that I can accept - ' He closed his eyes for a heartbeat and she could simply sense the effort with which he tried to check the expression of pain that rippled along his face. 'No, I won't lie to you.' A brief moment one of his hands formed a clenched fist before he forced his fingers to relax again. 'I cannot accept that but at least I can try to learn to cope with it. But that you found me unworthy to let me know your love for me has died, that rips me apart. So I am here to hear the words from your very mouth. Call it pathetic, but I need to hear the truth from yourself.'

Every word he spoke hit her like the lash of a whip. Her eyes grew wide with incredulity. How could he think she didn't love him anymore? Wasn't it so obvious she did? How could he question her deep feelings for him? She made an ultimate effort to pull herself together and took a deep breath. 'It is my love for you that drove me away.' She wanted to sound strong and convincing but to her frustration her voice came out weak and cracked.

He cocked his brow in disbelief. 'Really? And what kind of love might that be? How can you call something love when it devastates people? Have you any idea what your love' (he almost spat the word) 'did to me?'

Finally she drew herself up. She straightened her shoulders and heaved her head in defiance. Despite that tough posture she felt her heart hammering in her chest. 'You made me promise not to die in the battle in the Gallows,' she blurted out, 'and then you yourself almost died! Because of me!' She clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling; the still all too vivid memory threatened to tear her apart once again.

He looked perplexed at her. 'Is that the reason why you fled in the middle of the night?'

'Yes.'

'Because I got injured trying to keep Meredith from killing you.' His voice sounded dangerously flat.

'Yes!'

'And that made you think you obtained the right to decide over my life.' He uttered the sentence as a kind of remote observation.

'I wanted to protect you!' It came out all wrong and she almost flinched at her own words. They sounded like an accusation.

'So you thought it would be a good idea to treat me as a feeble pampered defenceless toddler? You thought it best to run off without taking my feelings into consideration? You wanted to protect me by breaking me into pieces?!' And now a storm was brewing, shredding the deceivingly flatness from seconds before. 'That's brilliant,' he added sardonically.

'I can't live without you!' she desperately exclaimed in an ultimate attempt to make him see.

But Fenris scoffed derisively, 'Indeed. You obviously gave perfect witness of that sentiment during the past months.'

Despite her strong will now tears of frustration started running down her face. 'I don't want to lose you,' she cried, hating herself for it.

At those words Fenris got struck speechless and she took advantage of his sudden silence. Determinedly she wiped the irritating tears away. 'I don't want to lose you,' she repeated with emphasis, 'and I was so scared that would happen I left you in the safe hands of our friends.' He still seemed to be searching for an answer and for some reason or another she took it as a good sign. He would understand her. He had to. 'You almost died defending me and I couldn't let that happen again,' she stated firmly. 'I don't want to lose you,' she said once more, with less confidence this time, getting unsettled by his lasting lack of response.

He slightly bowed his head and brought a hand to his brow. His fingers ruffled through his moonlike and at the same time moon-kissed hair. She wished she could do that for him and again hoped desperately he now saw her point of view. He has to. But then he looked up at her and she almost staggered back. The pain in his eyes was palpable.

'Have you learned nothing?' His voice was just a whisper but a whisper filled with anguish. The rough velvet soaked with agony. She looked at him incomprehensively. He shook his head. The next words he spoke came down on her like a cold shower. 'About four years ago I left you. I don't need to tell you at what occasion.' He paused and swallowed. She just stared, captivated in his stern and at the same time sad gaze. 'It wasn't only because of my memories. You know that. It was mostly because I was too scared what we had wouldn't last. I told you that.'

He looked sharply at her and she couldn't but nod numbly. He had told her that. And she had thought back then it was rubbish.

'I thought myself unworthy of you and I was certain you would grow weary of me the moment you'd find out I had nothing to offer. That I was but a slave, a nobody who didn't deserve your attention let alone your love.'

She got a nasty suspicion where this would lead to and wanted him to shut up. But he kept on talking without taking his intense eyes off of her. His beautiful silvery green confronting eyes.

'So I reasoned it was wiser to leave you before you decided you were better off without me. Because I didn't want to lose you.'

Although she had seen it coming, he might as well have slapped her in her face. She really, really wanted him to shut up before she would turn into a puddle of guilt and misery. Her knees went wobbly and she had to hold on to the back of a chair to prevent she would sink on the floor.

'By now, of course, I know with that irrational argument I wounded you beyond compare,' he went on relentlessly, 'that I was a fool and a coward and squandered three precious years of both our lives with my – uncertainty. My inferiority complex.' He let out a mirthless short laugh. 'And now you're telling me you have made the same mistake.' After a few seconds he added, 'even though you found out to your own cost how much that hurt.'

Hawke recognized the harsh truth of his statement but didn't want to agree with him just like that. Instead she wanted to tell him about Corypheus, about the frightening mind crushing prophesy that horrible creature had told her, how it had amplified her already existing fear. She came no further than a rueful muttered, 'It was never my intention to hurt you.' It was a poor defence to say the best of it but it was all she could come up with. On second thought it was too difficult to talk about that monster.

Fenris tilted his head and gave her a wan tired smile. 'Neither was it mine four years ago.' He took a deep breath. 'I'm willing to believe you. I'm willing to believe you are as big an idiot as I have been although you of all people should have known better.'

She didn't reply. She couldn't. Fenris will die and there's nothing you can do about it. Fenris will die, Fenris will die That cruel horrifying voice kept droning in her head. She knew it had just been a confrontation with her biggest dread and she had to ignore it but it was so very hard to do. She hung her head in remorse, fiddling with her fingers.

Fenris clenched his jaw and studied her intensely before he came to a conclusion. 'All right. I will give you one last chance. Either you marry me and give me your trust to face all the dangers life will throw at us side by side as husband and wife or I walk out of the gate of this impressive fortress and you will never see me again. It's your choice. I will give you some time to think it over but not too long. My patience can only go that far. You've stretched it enough as it is. I need to have your answer in the morning. Think carefully.' Before she could react he brushed passed her without even as much as casting her a look. She made a half-hearted attempt to grab his hand but missed and she was altogether too flabbergasted to stop him.

She expected him to sweep out of the room but suddenly he hesitated, lingering in the door opening; he turned but avoided looking at her. 'One more question. Just out of curiosity, when were you planning to tell me you have been willing to sacrifice yourself on behalf of the Templars?'

Hawke cringed. So the dwarf hadn't been satisfied enough to reveal her whereabouts to Fenris but also had to give him that painful piece of information. 'Oh Varric,' she grunted.

Fenris nodded. 'That's what I figured.' And he disappeared, leaving her completely forlorn. She stumbled to the bed and crashed down on the mattress, hiding her face in her hands. He will never forgive me.

Only then it drove home to her he had asked her to marry him. Or more or less had ordered her to.

Fenris stumbled into the hallway and leant heavily against the wall, with all his might trying to gather his wits. His breath went laboured and his blood rushed forcefully through his veins. Only with the utmost exertion he could prevent his markings to light up. Seeing her after all this time had been far more difficult to deal with than he already had thought up forehand. It had been so hard to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms his muscles ached with the effort. She claimed she loved him and though it had been hard to believe it, he couldn't deny she had looked completely shattered the moment it got through to her he had been convinced of the opposite.

He was confused and shaken and rattled to the bone. One part of him was annoyed with the – outwardly – steady and aloof composure he had shown her, another part was thankful for it. He didn't know what would have happened had he given in to his desire to hold her.

What she had told him made his head reel. My love for you drove me away. That one had puzzled him, alarmed him even - had he been too demanding? Too possessive? - until her next statement hit him. I wanted to protect you. He had understood that one. Grudgingly. And together all too well. Damn it. She had been so scared he would hurry to his death because of his burning urge to shield her, she had left him. Yes, he had stood on the brink of death although he hadn't been aware of it at the time. Was that the reason she'd fled? But before he had been given a chance to think it over she had come up with another one. A so familiar and at the same time crushing one, he hadn't been able to react for quite a while. I don't want to lose you. Oh yes, that feeling he could acknowledge. But it had been devastating to hear those words from her. Especially while beholding her trembling frame. And she had been trembling, not matter now hard she had tried to hide it. He had been wondering - still did - if it was his influence, if it had been his utterly stupid and absurd explanation for leaving her all those years ago that had driven her to her painful decision.

She had been as beautiful as he remembered she was. There had been small alterations though. Her eyes weren't that fierce and bright as they used to be. There had sneakily crept a kind of tiredness into her face he hadn't seen before; a fatigue that wasn't caused by mere lack of sleep. Her shoulders had slumped a little as if they had had to carry too much weight for too long. Had he done that to her? What had she gone through?

And then the last words he had let loose on her hit home. Had he really asked – no, commanded – her to marry him?! What the fuck had made him do that?! He nearly choked. He had given her an impossible choice. She would turn him down. She definitely would turn him down. Wouldn't she? Yes she would. What had he been thinking. What for the love of the Maker had he been thinking?! He hadn't been thinking, that was the problem. He hadn't been able to. He flinched. Did he really want to marry her? Yes, if he was honest. Did she want to marry him? Probably not. Certainly not after the way he had - proposed. Extremely romantic. He grimaced forcefully. Bloody hell. He had made a mess of it. As usual.

In the midst of his roving and tangled and panicked contemplations he felt a flask being pushed into his hand and without even looking he took a deep draught. Whisky. Of course it was. The liquid burned in his throat and almost immediately relaxed the worst of his tensions. He sighed gratefully.

'It's your turn now,' he croaked exhausted, 'you started this, at this very moment she needs you.' He took another gulp of whisky. The feeling of guilt almost swept him away. 'But be prepared. She's a mess. Part of it my fault I'm afraid. Sorry for that.'

There sounded a little snigger. 'Don't be sorry. I like a challenge. I still have to find a damage I'm not able to repair.'

I originally planned this to be a one-shot but I'm still working on the second part and I grew impatient. I promise to post the rest of the story as soon as possible. That is, if you want me to. Feel free to let me know what you think about it!

Thanks for reading.