Anna pulled the thick woollen cloak tighter around her and tried to stop her teeth from chattering. She had known it was going to be cold since Tevinter was experiencing one of the worst winters for years, but she hadn't expected her hair to feel like it had turned into icicles before she even made it to the harbour in Minathrous. She descended from the ship carefully, as the gangplank had iced over in the short time it had been out. To be fair, she had hidden in the hull for as long as possible before braving the outside, but eventually the captain's glare was enough to make even her uncomfortable and so there she was, on the docks, no idea where to start searching. She didn't even have a name - just "the white wolf of the north city". Blasted matchmaker.

She tried to make herself as small as possible as she started walking down the cobbled street, shivering in the chilly wind. First off: shelter. Then food. Lastly, information. Surely someone somewhere knew something, she thought as she made her way past the day labourers with their heavy barrels and sacks, making a rude gesture to a sailor who tried to slap her arse, and found her way into the city proper. Since she had no way of knowing where she was meant to go, she began wandering aimlessly down the city streets. The only thing she knew was that she was searching for a white wolf, but going around asking people that particular question was most likely a one-way ticket to the nearest bedlam, and she was not in the mood to try to talk her way out of a madhouse. So, she wandered. Street up, and street down, looking around in increasing awe at the city of Minathrous. The architecture was unlike anything she had ever seen in her admittedly limited experience, with its smooth plastered walls and elegant houses, most of them crowned with spires and gleaming like jewels in the late afternoon sun. The streets were still mostly white from the snowfall, unlike Kirkwall - where she had changed ships - where the snow melted before it even landed on the ground, joining the brown sludge in the gutters. Here it draped over buildings and streets - and people - like a gentle white shroud. She wondered if it was magic, since wherever she looked her skin tingled in the way she had been taught to connect with magic. She looked down at her simple, unadorned chainmail and was suddenly relieved that she had heeded First Enchanter Orsino's advice to leave her templar mail in Kirkwall. She had a feeling walking around thus adorned would get her into a world of trouble she simply did not have time for. She needed to find the wolf, and the faster the better. But it was cold, and she was tired, and she needed to rest. She stopped at a street corner and looked around, hoping to see a sign marking an inn. There was an elegant bookshop, an alchemy shop, another (bigger, more elegant) bookshop and… Anna burst out laughing. A sign hung from the building, proudly proclaiming WELCOME TO THE WHITE WOLF INN!


A slim, slender elf male of above average height was at the same time as Anna found the inn stalking down a nearby abandoned street. A scowl was marring the elegant face with its high cheekbones, ruining what once upon a time had most likely been the classic beauty that most elves possessed. Now, however, his skin was marred by horrifying scars in a pattern that most definitely was not natural, with its straight lines and raised ridges. His name was Fenris, and he was on the run.

Fenris' veins boiled with a helpless fury that made his face twist in a furious snarl. His hands, clenching and unclenching like an angry cats, gleamed with blue fire the colour of his eyes. At this point Danarius had most likely discovered his little coup and sent men out searching for him, to take him back to the Bastard in chains like a disobedient puppy. This thought made him even angrier than he already was and in his impotent rage he kicked a nearby wooden barrel so hard it shattered and spilled its contents all over the ground and his naked feet. Old fish, kaffas! Luckily, no one had seen him. He hurried on down the street, realising that he needed a place to stay the night. The cold was creeping into his bones and though his tight black leathers may have looked impressive to a casual onlooker the way they accentuated his strong thighs and muscular arms, they were of little use in warding off the chill. He rubbed his bare, scarred arms and found himself thankful that he was in one of the seedier parts of town, one where everybody minded their own business. Finding an inn where he could hide for a few hours should not be too difficult. There was one on the corner, and he figured that it might as well do - the White Wolf Inn. It didn't look too shabby, either, he noted when he stepped in. It was filled with the usual assortment of labourers and drunks, he even saw a soporati or two in the corner. He went straight over to the barkeep and asked for a room for the night.

"Sorry mate" the man behind the counter replied, "just rented out the last one." Fenris was convinced that he was lying, but before he could make any sort of threats a voice addressed them both.

"It's fine. He can share with me." He turned his head and saw a blond human woman, with blue eyes twinkling at him in a way that - much to his surprise - made him feel slightly unnerved. What was it with this wench? He was pretty sure he had never seen her before in his life (at least not as far back as he could remember) but she was smiling at him as if they were old friends. Calling himself all kinds of stupid he joined her at her table, and contented himself with glaring at her when she ordered soup, bread and ale for them both. Who did he think he was, some half-starved mongrel?
"I'm sorry," she said, as if she had sensed his animosity. "I'm hungry, and I thought you might be too. I'm Hawke, by the way. Anna Hawke."

"Fenris" he replied, but didn't say much else. Why should he tell this stranger anything? She didn't seem very talkative either, content to sit silently and wait for their meal. The food, when it arrived, was warm and hearty, the stew thick and musty and full of vegetables. He couldn't discern what kind of meat was in it, but it didn't really matter as it filled his empty belly quickly, along with big chunks of the freshly baked brown bread. The only thing that unnerved him a bit was how the woman - Anna - kept looking at him, not tearing her eyes away for a moment even when she was eating. Finally he'd had enough of her scrutiny.

"What are you staring at?" He snarled. She just grinned.

"The man that will be sleeping in my bed tonight." He stared at her. How dared she make such an assumption?

"Sharing a room, remember?" She said. "There's only one bed and somehow I rather doubt you want to sleep on the floor." Well, she did have a point there.


The evening was late, and he had most likely had at least two drinks too many, Fenris admitted to himself as he sank into the comfortable chair next to the fireplace in the room they would be sharing. Anna closed the door and latched it, before starting to remove her chainmail and weaponry. Then she, much to his surprise, kept undressing. It was like he wasn't even in the room! Within moments she stood there in only her smalls, undoing her braid and letting her blond hair tumble down her shoulders like a river of gold.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked, "I usually sleep nude but I figure you'd be uncomfortable with that." He wondered if she realised how much that sounded as an invitation, but when she turned her head to look at him he could see the same twinkle in her eyes he had seen earlier that night, when she offered to share a room. Oh yes, she knew perfectly well how that sounded. It sounded exactly as what she meant for it to be - an invitation to share not only her bed, but her body as well. And suddenly he wanted her. He wanted to have this woman, to rut with her, to ride between the long legs he could not take his eyes from. He had never reacted to any woman like this before; for a long time he had thought himself unable to feel attraction to anyone. He could perform sexually, but it was a chore, a demeaning act to be endured. Not something to be desired. But he was desiring now. It scared him slightly, not that he would ever admit that to anyone. Anna turned around slowly, still holding him captive with her eyes. That's when he realised that she was, in fact, only wearing her smalls - her breasts were full and round, with small pink nipples already hard and peaked, inviting him to wrap his lips around them. So, he stood from his chair, stalked through the room and did just that - ran his tongue over the full swell of her breasts, tasting her skin, suckling on her nipples like a babe at the teat, hands grabbing her buttocks. They fitted perfectly in his hands, and the way she moaned and buried her fingers in his white hair was perfect, too. He slid his fingers under the fabric that covered her most private parts and yanked it off in one hard tug, ignoring the fact that it ripped under his hands. Anna just gave a breathy laugh, even though she now stood before him nude while he was still fully clothed. It was as if she gained more power over him this way; standing vulnerable, uncovered, unprotected, it was still she that was the stronger of them. They both knew it, but it only heightened his desire for her.

He pushed her back onto the bed, and she fell, still laughing, sprawled before him in all her glory. Her thighs fell open as if by their own will, baring her completely to his ravenous eyes. He wanted to bury himself between the pink folds of her sex, sink his cock so deep inside her trembling quim his balls pressed against her buttocks, to fuck her until she screamed his name, screamed for him to stop, and then fuck her harder until she came apart under him. Wanted her to claw at his back and bite his shoulder and clutch at his buttocks as he rode her, wanted her wetness and heat and hunger, wanted her until the sun rose, then mount her again with the morning sun shining on their sweat-slicked bodies. Anna raised her hand and crooked her finger in a "come here"-gesture, her eyes shining with mirth and desire as she cocked her hips in blatant invitation.

When the sun rose, many hours later, the first rays fell on Anna's hair, turning it into a waterfall of molten gold as she straddled his hardness, riding him with the same frenzied hunger he had ridden her, over and over again. She was wrecked, soaked in sweat, covered in bite marks and bruises reminding him of what the night had brought, and he wondered as he bit his lip and slammed his hips up to meet her, if he wasn't about to fall just a bit in love with her. If he hadn't already.