Part 3 – Back to Kirkwall

Alex Hawke and Varric were glad to find the elven woman unharmed in the corner where they left her. And Orana was obviously relieved to see them, too. "Thank you for coming back sires. But… where is…" she looked from one man to the other – uncertainty in her gaze.

"You mean Fenris? The elf? He… is okay. Just needed some time for himself." Alex answered, but his voice sounded toneless and sad. So, his words couldn't reassure Orana and she looked at them questioning.

"He preferred to return to Kirkwall alone. And he's a strong, experienced warrior, so you don't need to worry about him, sweet bean-pole," Varric explained in a jovial tone.

Orana looked puzzled. "Bean-pole?"

Alex couldn't help but chuckle. "That's just Varric's way to make new friends. Let's go. Better, we're back in the city before nightfall."


There was a reason, Fenris had left the cave alone. He was so full of hate and rage after meeting one of his former torturers that he feared he might have hurt Alex and Varric or even worse – Orana. The bad feelings were so strong, he just couldn't control them. He growled and shouted into the stormy landscape until his hoarse voice finally broke completely. His throat burnt, his head ached, his blood was boiling with rage and fever, thumping alarmingly fast behind his temples and in his eardrums. He beat and kicked everything that came in his way – rocks, branches, rats and other creatures. His tantrum lasted the whole way back to the city.

When he finally arrived at the gates, he was completely run down and exhausted. He felt like he couldn't take one more step. But he had to reach Hightown – somehow… He showed the guards his papers. The guardsmen were eyeing the strange looking elf suspiciously, as they always did; and Fenris could be glad he had his temper in control now. The papers were authentic – they were signed by Aveline Vallen, the captain of the city guard; the guards finally let him pass.

If he had given in to his fatigue he would have passed out on the spot. He needed some distraction to manage the last part of his way. As he forced his thoughts away from Danarius and his past in Tevinter; there was only one other thing, he could think of… Hawke. He always called the man by his surname, never used his first. And everybody else, somehow, did the same. It was how they showed their respect for this man, for all the things he had accomplished. Hawke was a fugitive like him when he arrived three years ago. But now, almost everyone around knew his name. Most because he helped them; some because they hated or feared him. Either way – his name had a sound of importance.

For him, it was more than that. Hawke had helped him in his fights against slavers more than once. Unlike some other companions, he never questioned the elf's way of living. He was generous, gave him valuable presents; he even taught him to read. And although the rogue had a very different opinion concerning mages – probably because his own sister was one – he saw him as a dear friend; and as a very handsome man as well…

"Hey knife ear, could you at least cover your sneezes! That's disgusting!" The angry voice of a man teared Fenris out of his absentmindedness back into this rainy Kirkwall day. He felt himself swaying and leant against a wall, covering the next sneezes that wracked his body HEMPTSHEEE… HEPTSHEEE… HEMPTSHEEE... "My apologies sire," he mumbled hoarsely, looking at the ground. The warrior rubbed his nose and tried to sniff, but it turned out to be completely blocked by now. So, all he could do was breathing through his mouth.

Apologies… When he looked up and around, Fenris became aware he was only a few steps away from Hawke's Estate. 'I should go in and talk to him,' he thought. 'At least, I owe him an apology for leaving him alone in the cave after he just wanted to help me…'

The white-haired elf went over and knocked at the door. He cleared his throat in the hope to improve his voice a bit, but only triggered a coughing fit. So, he was still bent over, coughing into his fist, when Bodahn opened the front door. "Sire Fenris?" he asked puzzled.

"I wadnt to speak Hawke," Fenris croaked. His voice sounded terrible and he wondered if the dwarf could even understand him.

Bodahn blinked his eyes in confusion. "Hawke isn't here… I thought… he was with you… But come in, come in! You look horrible, sire Fenris…"

The elf entered the hall and crushed down on one of the benches. He coughed again, and then sneezed harshly into the crook of his arm.

The dwarf frowned. "Maybe you'd better come and sit down by the chimney… I'll ask the lady…"

The warrior angrily shook his head. He couldn't answer as he had to cough again.

"What's going on here?" Hawke's mother Leandra asked and came over from the living room. Her grey hair was bound in a slack pony tail – as always; and she had slung a green cardigan around her shoulders. Her eyes grew wide in concern when she saw the pale face of the elven warrior. "Oh dear Maker, Fenris!" she called. "Looks like you've caught that nasty flu that's running around. Maybe we should call that healer Anders… Come with me," she offered, I'll open one of our guest rooms for you. They are warmer and more comfortable than the entrance hall…"

The elf raised his arms in annoyance. "Could you stop pabperigg be, all of you? I just wadt to sit here add wait. Is that so hard to udderstadd?" His voice had no sound, no power. It was not more than a weak, hoarse croaking. But his facial expression and body language made clear that he would have shouted the words loudly if he'd could.

Leandra was snubbed by his harsh words and stood a second in silent before she answered in a cold tone. "Very well, but you should at least blow your nose." She put her small white handkerchief on the bench beside the elf. Then, she left the hall and returned to the living room, shutting the door behind her energetically.

Fenris sighed with relief when he was finally alone. This irritated his raw throat and triggered another coughing fit. The elf slammed his fist on the stone bench in annoyance. He was fed up with this stupid cold. It was so embarrassing that everyone witnessed him in this weak, sick state. Reluctantly, he took the finely embroidered handkerchief to his nose and tried to blow. It gave a wet, gurgling sound; and the small cloth was filled in no time. He had the feeling, he could fill twenty more of those, but he had only this one. At least, the blow gave him a hint of release – a bit of the pressure in his sinuses had solved.

In this moment, the front door opened…


"Come in, Orana," Hawke said friendly, "I'll show you everything."

"Thank you, Master," the woman answered and took a few steps inside the building looking around.

Alex chuckled. "Please, just call me Hawke, or 'sire' if you like. I'm not your 'Master'…"

"Sorry, Mas… sire."

The two left some puddles of water where they stood. Outside, the rain was still pouring; and it was hard to tell if it was that dark only from the clouds; or if the sun had already set. Alex had given his cloak to the elven woman on their way back to the city. But – as all their other clothes and their hair and their shoes – it was soaking wet by now and both were shivering.

Fenris stood up from his bench and only now, Hawke became aware of his presence. His eyes beamed with joy and relief. "Fenris! I'm so glad you made it home alive," he smiled and wiped some raindrops from his face with the back of his left hand. "Wait a minute…" he said, then went to the next door, opened it, guided Orana into the living room and explained his mother in short words, who the woman was and what she needed. Leandra nodded and gave some orders to Bodahn. "But you should change out of those wet clothes, son," she added with a worried gaze on him.

Alex smiled at her. "I'll do that, mum. Just need a few minutes alone with Fenris," he said and closed the door behind him.

When he turned around, he saw the elf turning to the side and coughing into his fist. Alex went to the bench and crouched down next to him. "I had no idea where you went, Fenris, I was concerned."

The warrior shook his head. "I deeded to be alode… but dow… I'b here to apologize …h…h…. HAREPTSHOU … sorry… Hawke…" he sniffed wetly. "I took out by agger od you, uddeservedly so. I was dot byself…hep… hef… HEPTSHOU… HERFSHOU… sorry agaid…"

"Fenris…" Alex interrupted him softly. The rogue bit his lower lip not to chuckle. He felt that wouldn't fit and could even hurt his friend. But Fenris' sick voice sounded just too cute… "Please, do me a favor and blow your nose. You're not only totally hoarse; you are also completely congested. I can hardly understand a word of what you say…" He put off his checkered neckerchief and offered it to the elf who took it from his hands hesitantly. The cloth was wet, rumpled and a bit dirty, but its size was the fourfold of the small thing Leandra had given him. The warrior blushed and gave Hawke an apologetic gaze from his fever-bright eyes. He stood up and went a few steps away where he turned to the wall. There, he started to blow his nose, silently and softly at first. Then, when he felt how it solved the congestion, he blew with more effort. He was truly relieved when he finally could breathe through his nose again – if not freely and nodded at his friend thankfully.

"You and I don't always see eye to eye, Hawke, but that doesn't meadn you deserve my anger. I owe you adn apology." The elf turned around and coughed into his fist.

Hawke sat down on the bench in the hope, Fenris would do the same. He could see his friend swaying and didn't want to see him passing out again. "You don't need to apologize, Fenris. I think I can understand you. Thank you for coming here…"

The elf now really sat down again and Alex was glad his plan had worked. "When I was still a slave," Fenris told looking to the ground. "Hadriana was a torbment. She would ridicule me, dedny my meals, hound my sleep…" The elf sniffed and rubbed his nose where congestion already started to settle again. "Because of her status I was powerless to respodnd and she knew it. The thought of her slipping out of my grasp dnow… I couldn't let her go. I wadnted to, but I couldn't…"

Alex swallowed. What a sad and terrible story… He felt the wish to embrace the elf, to hold him tightly, to give him some comfort so he would forget about his dreadful past – if only for a moment. But after what happened in the caves, he didn't dare to touch the other man again… "She deserved her death, Fenris," the rogue said softly. "Never doubted it…"

But the elf continued in his speech. "I should be happy now that Hadriana is dead," he whispered raspily. "Instead, I feel dothing but… disquiet…" he had to interrupt for a bad coughing fit. His head turned all read from the effort; and Hawke looked at him worriedly. "You shouldn't speak so much, Fenris…"

The warrior just shook his head and continued. "This hate…" his husky voice quavered. "I thought I'd gotten away from it. But it dogs me no matter where I go… To feel it again to know it was they who planted it inside me… it was too much to bear." He stood up, swaying slightly again and turned to go. "But I didn't come here to burden you further," he whispered.

Alex hurried to stand up and rush behind him. Was the elf crazy? It was still pouring outside. And where did he want to go in his state? "Don't go, Fenris, please…" he said and before he could think of it, he grabbed the warrior's wrist. 'Oh no, what have I done,' he thought, when Fenris turned around in anger, glowing bluish. With surprising force in his poor condition, the elf shoved the rogue through the room and pressed him against a wall. Alex stood there in a shock, his heart thumping in his throat. He felt the fever heat of Fenris' body and was torn between deep concern and mortal agony. And just as he feared, the elf would tear his heart out every moment; the other man closed his eyes, opened his lips and kissed him. It was not a small kiss, no shy trying; it was long and intense, full of passion. Alex couldn't believe what just happened. And although there was a tiny voice in the back of his mind telling him that the elf might not have done this without his high fever, he returned the kiss with all the obsession of his long-cherished feelings.