To say I had settled nicely into the mansion would be a lie. Something about remaining in the mansion brought about a familiar sense of discomfort and paranoia. As much I disliked waiting for Denarius in the mansion, I had nowhere else to go. I could have left, but I had made a promise to Hawke, and it was one I intended to keep.

A couple of days after we had attempted to find Denarius, Hawke and stopped by the mansion again to check on me. That in itself was a surprise. She had dropped by completely unexpectedly, knocking on the door in the late afternoon when no one was around. I had not expected her to come, and nearly went for my sword before I heard her calling for me to answer the door.

We sat up in Denarius' study; the room was in disarray still, as it had been when we had broken in. The mansion did not deserve to be restored; Maker only knew what Denarius might have used it for, if it was so disorganized when we had arrived…even if the mansion was not exactly Denarius'. If I was to stay there, I would need to get used to the mess and disorder of the estate.

She did not seem to care about the nearly empty bottle of wine on the table when she entered, that, or she did not notice. She was pleasant enough, asking me how I was settling in, and how I was, and offering her help. That surprised me, the way I had made my hatred for mages brutally obvious. As much as I tried to push the feeling away, I could not help but feel comfortable around this woman…a mage of all things. She was kind when she did not need to be, very polite company and easy to speak to. But she was still a mage… pleasantries are nice, but I still was not entirely sure if I could trust her fully yet.

I picked up the wine bottle from the table and examined it. Hawke looked from the still-burning fire and up to me, her sharp eyes taking in my movements in almost a studious way. "Agreggio Parvoli. Denarius has six bottles in the cellar. Fitting, considering all Tevinter wine is made from the tears and blood of slaves." I said, studying the bottle with no real interest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hawke arch a single dark eyebrow at my tears and blood comment. Of course it was an exaggeration, but considering many badly-treated slaves probably labored over the wine for the Magisters for weeks in dreadful conditions, I was probably not very far off. Hawke said nothing, and allowed me to turn the bottle in my hand. I will admit to relying on alcohol since my arrival in Kirkwall, it was easy to numb feelings through wine, and Denarius' extensive supply only seemed to help for a change. I stared at the bottle, remembering the last time I had been allowed to touch a bottle with the same contents back in Tevinter. The contented feeling I had felt speaking to Hawke was suddenly replaced with the bitter disgust I feel whenever I am reminded of that pathetic excuse of a man. "Denarius used to have me pour it for his guests." I spat bitterly. "He said my appearance intimidated them…which he enjoyed."

Thinking back to the way every one of Denarius' sniveling party guests would avoid eye-contact with me, and look all around uncomfortable around me sent a burning wave of anger through my blood, which I was determined to quiet with the wine in my hand. It felt almost ironic, in a sick way, that I would be using the same drink to dull the fires of my hate. Hawke looked from the bottle to me, her eyes narrowing in a thoughtful way before she spoke again. "I can't imagine why they would be put off." She said thoughtfully, as though she were speaking to herself. I was silent for a moment, trying to think of how to respond to the unexpected comment.

I had never heard something like that from anyone before. My markings had always put people off. I looked strange, and over time, I had come to accept that. People were uncertain around me, fearful and uncomfortable. It was a sensation I had grown accustomed to, and Hawke's unexpected compliment caught me off guard. I tried to hide that shock, however, and looked from the wine, to her. "I'll take that as a compliment." Shock and the still burning anger from my memories of being a slave were not a pleasant combination. I know that I could tend to lose my temper, but a swirling mix of strong feelings and emotions only tend to set me off even quicker. I did not want Hawke to see that side of me. She did not regard me as abnormal, as intimidating, she regarded me as a person…not just another slave. As much as I hated to think it, the last thing I wanted to do what put the mage off. I quickly downed the rest of the bottle, trying to calm my nerves as quickly and easily as I knew how, but the frustration still lingered in a way that I could not subdue it.

Glancing at the empty bottle a final time, I turned, and threw it. It hit the wall to the side of me, and shattered. Hawke jumped a little in her seat, but made no other remarks. Almost immediately after, my nerves began to calm, and I took in a breath. "It's good I can still take pleasure in the small things." Hawke looked at the shards of the bottle and back to me, sensing something amiss, and I could see the obvious look of pity and uncertainty in her gaze.

"You've had a difficult life." She observed plaintively. She had no idea… instead of showing any anger, or frustration or hatred; I attempted to drop the subject as quickly and calmly as I could.

"I would prefer not to speak of it." I said, turning away from her blue eyed gaze. She did not look away from me.

"Are you certain? I'm willing to listen." That was a first. I could already tell that this woman was one who always listened. She had hardly said a word her entire visit, if only to ask a question. She seemed the quiet type, perhaps which was only because she was actually intimidated by me. Just what I needed…another to be so easily scared of me. I tried to stay casual, and calm, and not give her a reason to be scared of me.

"To my whining? Charitable of you." I sat across from her, hoping that would only help make the atmosphere less tense. "I have tried to leave my past behind….but it will not stay there." I glanced up at her, she watched with curious eyes, waiting for me to continue speaking, even though I had nothing left to say. "Tell me, have you never wanted to return to Ferelden?" One of the first things we had spoken about when she arrived was where she was from. Lothering, in the southern parts of Ferelden. Quite the trek from here. Hawke shrugged.

"I grew up in Ferelden, it will always be my home." She seemed dismissive of the topic, but I could see the look on her face telling me she was thinking of her home, of how it was lost. It probably would have been better for me to drop the subject then and there, but I continued to ask questions.

"The Blight is over…you could regain what you've lost. Do you truly not want to?" She pondered the question for a moment, trying to find the right words. That was almost…uncomforting. The fact that she needed to search for the right words….Or perhaps I was just being too paranoid.

"My mother is from Kirkwall." She said finally. "My heritage is here." She spoke with a tone of certainty that told me she did not, in fact, wish to return. I nodded, feeling a small pang of jealousy in my gut.

"Having somewhere to put down roots. I understand. Still…to have the option, it must be gratifying…" I looked away from her for a moment, feeling her gaze lingering on me. I turned back to her.

"You could stay…Fenris." She said, almost like it was an invitation. An invitation to a disheveled, run-down mansion once belonging to a potentially dead Tevinter merchant…yes. This is where I would spend my years. I thought bitterly. But where else did I really have to go? What other option did I possess other than to stay here?

"I could see myself staying. For the right reasons." We both fell silent for a moment, and she looked at the floor, the both of us finally running out of things to say. Some host I was…but really, what experience could I have? But…a part of me wanted to make her feel even the slightest bit welcome. She had helped me with the slavers, and helped me attempt to find Denarius. I felt like I owed her something. "I should thank you again for helping me with the slavers. If I had known Anso would find me a woman so…" I searched for the right word. "…Capable, I would have asked sooner." A shy smile crept across Hawke's face, and she chuckled.

"Maybe I should be thanking Anso." There was a hint of flirtation in her voice, another surprise from the least likely of things. A mage flirting with me was not exactly the welcome I had anticipated when coming to Kirkwall.

I laughed, which I had been doing less and less of lately. It felt…good to smile at something. "Maybe you should." I glanced at the window, noticing the sun sinking below the horizon. I was not overly fond of Hawke having to make her way to Lowtown in the dark, with all the gangs about. "Perhaps I should practice my flattery for your next visit?" I stood, still feeling a smile on my lips. "With any luck I will become better at it." Hawke smiled and nodded.

"Sounds like a deal." She stood, preparing to take her leave. "Good night, Fenris." She smiled, and made her way to the front door. I watched her go, and fell back into a chair. The front door shut, and I was alone again. The feeling was a familiar one, but greatly unwelcomed. The comfort I felt from Hawke's visit was more than likely the knowledge that maybe I would not remain alone any longer. It was comforting, and I wanted to trust this woman, I really did. There was so much about her that made me feel…different, than I had in a long time. She was kind to me, patient and wasn't afraid to speak her mind. She seemed strong, and I could respect that.

The small part of me was still hung up on her use of magic though. From the moment my memories were gone, mages were evil, and that was the only conclusion I had ever come to when it came to magic and those who possessed it. I had only known her for a little over a few days, and I was still uncertain about putting my suspicions of blood magic use to rest. The thought was a disturbing one. I didn't want the comfortable feelings I felt around her to be replaced by repulsion at the sight of her. It happened far too often. I wanted so badly to trust this woman, but there was still so much I did not know about her. She was all but a mystery to me, and that uncertainty only made me want to jump to the conclusion that she, like so many others, had fallen prey to darker magic.

I glanced at the doorway again, sighed and stood to retrieve another bottle of wine. The onset of alcohol's effects were too welcome, and I was eager to forget my feelings for a time.