Chapter Four

After the Deep Roads, Hawke moved up in the world. Literally. She bought a mansion in Hightown, the old Amell estate with the proceeds of the expedition. Aside from Bartrand transpiring to be a complete son of a bitch and betraying them all, things couldn't have gone smoother – except for a few casualties, but Anders had seen to those much to Fenris's displeasure. Varric had not seen hide nor hair of his brother since being back on the surface, so it was assumed he was travelling somewhere to flog his wares and covet the stupid lyrium idol. Of course, the first night they were back, they celebrated in the Hanged Man. Leandra had settled in nicely to the new estate. She mostly kept herself busy, to distract herself from the loss of another child.

When Hawke returned, Bethany had been taken to the Circle by Night Commander Cullen, stating that she was lucky to keep her life. It had been emotionally straining for Leandra especially, although she confessed to her eldest daughter it felt as if Bethany really had died; they weren't allowed to see her, nor her them, destined to be locked away in the Gallows for the rest of her days. Hawke remembered how her mother sobbed for days, drifting about the huge mansion aimlessly. It was the most depressing thing she'd ever seen.

Hawke awoke as suddenly as if someone had yelled in her ear. Warm dawn light was peering through the small gaps of her bedroom curtains. Birds had begun to chirp outside. A gentle sniffling sound reached her ears. Peering over the folds of her duvet, Hawke spotted her mabari, Torch, pushing his snout under her covers for a sniff.

"Get out," she muttered, flapping her hand at him. Instead of shying away, the great dog wagged his tail happily, licking her hand in a way of morning greeting. She laughed, then stretched luxuriously, the duvet falling away from her. It was lovely to finally have her own room, and the privacy to sleep naked. This was short-lived, however, when a knock came on her door.

"Messere?" called Bodahn tentatively. "There's a man here to see you –"

Hawke barely had more than a minute's warning as her door opened unexpectedly. Anders strolled in, then stopped short as she clutched her bed covers to her body desperately.

"Anders!" she cried, "knock first!"

"I was just announcing your arrival, messere," said Bodahn, slightly annoyed.

"It's okay," Hawke said, dismissing her man-servant with a wave. He bowered and left the room, followed by Torch, and closed the door behind him with a snap.

"Sorry," Anders muttered, embarrassed.

"Don't be," Hawke replied, equally as embarrassed. She wrapped her duvet around herself securely. "What is it you need, Anders?"

"Just to see how you are after… Bethany and everything." He paused before continuing, carefully choosing his words. "I know I'm all for the freedom for mages, and I know the Circle isn't the greatest place but… at least you still have your sister and she as you. I guess you're all you've both got now…" Anders swallowed, "now Carver isn't here."

Hawke remained silent. It meant a lot for Anders to be here and comfort her; she knew that he had experienced the Circle first hand. It was true, what he said, even though Bethany was locked away, at least she was still alive. Hawke felt a pang of sorrow as she remembered Carver. She wished her younger brother was still around. They used to fight and argue something awful but she never thought she'd miss him this much.

"Thank you, Anders," she said after some time. She smiled encouragingly. "I feel better."

It was true – the heavy weight she hadn't realised was pressing on her shoulders had lifted slightly, taking some of the guilt away. If she had taken Bethany to the Deep Roads, maybe she wouldn't be in the Circle. The blond mage beamed at her.

"Glad I could help." Suddenly his face fell and he looked uncomfortable again. "I'll leave you to, uh…"

Anders waved his hand towards her, where he knew that under the folds of material she lay naked. He turned to leave, begrudgingly. She was even more beautiful to him in her sleep-befuddled state, her dark hair sticking up at all angles and her eyes tired. She looked vulnerable, and none of her companions had seen her like this. Usually she was all armour and had a hard-as-nails demeanour, betraying none of her emotions to anyone. Anders took solace in this fact that he was the one to see her at her weakest, and lift her back up again.

He turned to leave, lost in thought – however, he soon bumped into something tall as he exited her estate. Looking up, he met a familiar pair of green eyes.

"Watch where you are going, mage," growled Fenris, side-stepping him.

Anders blocked his way. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to see Hawke." The elf moved by the mage lithely, barely giving him time to think.

"Messeres –" Bodahn began, but the two men ignored him.

"Well she's busy right now and can't see you," said Anders shortly, rushing to follow Fenris as he barged into the mansion hall. Suddenly, the elf stopped so that Anders collided with him again.

"What is it with you and Hawke, mage?" asked Fenris in a low, dangerous tone.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Anders replied, though his voice trembled slightly.

"You are in love with her."

The mage remained silent, but this seemed to spur Fenris on more. "Tell me, abomination, does she feel the same way?"

"I am not an abomination!" said Anders hotly. He felt Justice surge to the surface and did his best to remain calm. Now was not the time for the spirit to rear its head.

"You didn't answer my question." Fenris's lip curled as he watched Anders struggle with himself.

"That's none of your business," he said defiantly, his hands clenched tightly into fists as he tried to control himself, which was easier said than done when the elf was purposely trying to set him off. "What if she did?"

Fenris took a step closer to Anders. Out of the corner of his eye Bodahn dithered on the spot, wondering if he should allow the men their territorial pissing or call for help.

"Do not insult me, mage," Fenris snarled, his nose barely an inch from Anders'.

"I don't remember you being so hostile when I saved your life on the wounded coast," quipped the mage swiftly. He stood his ground.

"I never asked for your filthy magic!" hissed Fenris. What he wouldn't give to pummel this mage and his incessant whining about Hawke and how mages should be free. Was he truly that blind that magic did more bad than good?

"I would have gladly let you bleed out there and then, it would've saved me a lot of trouble – but I did it for Hawke, because she couldn't bear to let you die!" Anders prodded Fenris in the chest at this to emphasis his point. "She can do better than you!"

The elf remained speechless. The mage had implied Hawke had feelings for him, Fenris, but was this true? Or was Anders purely trying to get his back up?

"What's going on here?" cried a woman's voice.

The two men sprang apart from each other and whirled round, spotting Hawke at the foot of the stairs. Fenris noted that she was wearing a red gown, similar to the one he had dreamed about her in. This did not help.

Bodahn rushed forward. "Messere, I was about to call you."

Hawke's gaze softened as she assured the dwarf that no harm was done, but then her eyes snapped back to her visitors. For such a kind-faced attractive woman, it was remarkable how much she resembled a mabari right now. "Well? Some might say it's impolite to burst into someone's home unannounced, and proceed to have a shouting match in the hall." Hands on hips, her eyes flickered between the two of them. Anders had the grace to look ashamed of himself, whereas Fenris stepped towards her. She felt herself weaken as she inhaled his intoxicating scent, struggling to look disapproving still.

"Apologies, I met the mage on my way in," said the elf, throwing Anders a nasty look, of which the latter reciprocated. "I merely sought your help."

Hawke relaxed slightly. "It's quite alright," she said with dignity. All of a sudden, she became aware of her robe coming loose, crossing her arms in front of her chest firmly. The last thing she wanted right now was her breasts becoming free and on show. For the second time that morning.

"I'll be going back to the clinic now," Anders announced from behind Fenris. "You know where I am if you need me," he added in a gentle tone, gazing at Hawke fondly. Fenris continued to glower even as Anders left.

"What's this about?" asked Hawke, her brow furrowed with concern.

The elf avoided looking at her as he continued. She looked particularly appealing today, but that was probably due to the vast amount of cleavage she had. Fenris exercised all the self-control he could muster not to ravage her right there and then.

"It is Hadriana, my master's apprentice," he said at last. "I have a source that told me she is currently residing in the abandoned slaver caves outside of Kirkwall."

"And you think she's after you?"

"I believe she will not strike soon, or ever. My belief is that she thinks I will go to her, where she will capture me and take me back to Danarius." He spat the name as it tasted bitter in his mouth.

Hawke advanced towards him. His breath hitched, like it always did when she was near him. She was close enough to touch. Her eyes glittered as she looked up at him determinedly. "We will fine her. She will not take you." She spoke the last of her words with such ferocity it was startling.

She laid a comforting hand on his arm. Reflexively, he flinched at her touch, glaring at her. He regretted his actions almost straight away as she looked offended, even more so when he realised it was he who'd hurt her. Being touched so gently was an aspect that was unknown to him. As a former slave to a master who abused him for the slightest things, all he had known was the harsh crack of a whip. Hadriana was also a torment, taking pleasure in using her filthy blood magic to torture him, hounding his sleep and denying meals.

Hawke withdrew her hand as if burned and stepped away from him. "I didn't mean to offend you –"

"Think nothing of it," muttered Fenris, continuing to avoid her eyes.

Why won't he look at me?

The air was somewhat tense between them now, a long silence stretching between them, broke only by Torch bounding out of the kitchen to Hawke. Leandra followed, looking somewhat exasperated.

"Keep him out of the kitchen, love, he's more a hindrance than a help," she sighed as the mabari sniffed Hawke excitedly. She caught sight of Fenris and seemed momentarily startled. "Hello, I didn't realise we had a visitor." She looked at her daughter and lowered her voice a notch, though was still clearly audible. "Is this the elf you were telling me about?"

Hawke's mouth fell open in shock, and Fenris smirked at the situation. "Mother!"

"Sorry, dear," though Leandra was still beaming. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

She began to leave, a look of utter horror still on Hawke's face. "I'm sorry about that…" She swallowed and glanced up at the elf, determined once more, professional once again. "I'll talk to Aveline about protection outside your mansion, in case Hadriana or anyone else comes for you."

"That won't be necessary. I think the best we can do is a direct approach," Fenris stated, "that way we will have her cornered and I will be able to take care of her myself."

"Well, we will need some sort of plan, we can't go running into the whole thing without any consideration. I'll tell you what," Hawke said, struck by a sudden thought, "I'll call in on the others and bring them here, we can talk about it then."

Fenris felt unsure. Was it really a good idea to involve everyone? He thought of Anders, and his blood boiled. He didn't want the mage's help, but it seemed inevitable, Hawke would never let him go at it on his own. He knew deep down he needed all the help he could get – he had no chance of facing that bitch Hadriana alone.

The elf nodded his approval.

"Excellent," beamed Hawke. "If you want to take a seat, I'll be back down in a moment – it is time I dressed for the day."

And with that, she tied her gown securely and began to make her way upstairs elegantly. He couldn't help but stare transfixed at the silhouette of her body through her gown. He wished he could follow her to her bedroom and undress her carefully to reveal her naked form inch by inch…

No. She was a human noble now, the leader of their group, and he was an elf and escaped slave. It would never work. He was furious with himself for feeling anything towards her – it made him feel vulnerable. Who was to say that she wouldn't turn round and reject or betray him for whatever reason? Though he doubted that. Every aspect he had seen of her over the past three years implied nothing else but genuine kindness and selflessness. He would be foolish to read into false meaning.

Up in her room, Hawke rifled through the contents of her wardrobe for something suitable to wear. She couldn't help but feel hurt at how Fenris recoiled at her touch, a gesture of comfort. Was he repulsed by her? she wondered fretfully, pulling out a pair of brown leggings and white shirt. Maybe he was; he had implied nothing else towards her except professionalism and even friendship. She laughed to herself – how stupid would she have to be to assume Fenris had romantic feelings towards her? The mere idea of it was ludicrous. But it had been a long time since she had experienced male – or female – companionship. She had never been in love, or wanted to be, but she missed the feeling of another body against hers. Such things appeared impossible to her. There was always something to do, someone to help, and she would be selfish to indulge in her most private pleasures. There was always the Blooming Rose, but Isabela would never let her live it down; as she had instantly dismissed the brothel as "seedy", she would have to be desperate. And the notion of having a casual fling within Kirkwall also seemed impossible; more and more people knew who she was now, the name "Hawke" on many lips, and it was inevitable someone would let slip they bedded a noble from Hightown.

There were her companions to consider. Hawke knew Isabela would gladly rise to the opportunity, but the pirate did so on so many other occasions. Maybe Anders? He had nursed a soft spot for Hawke ever since she stumbled upon him in his clinic those years ago, requesting maps for the Deep Roads. His affection for her had increased tenfold after she comforted him over his loss of Karl, and especially during the expedition when they needed each other the most – though Hawke knew he would want more, a relationship, and this wasn't the time for such things. But everyone else was impossible – Merrill, the ever innocent elf, was a definite no; Varric only had eyes for Bianca, and Aveline considered frivolous sex absurd.

Resigned to believing she would be alone for a very long time, Hawke dressed, buckled herself into her armour and hastened downstairs again into the hall. Fenris was thumbing through a book on the table, his brow furrowed. He looks attractive when he concentrates, Hawke thought to herself. She shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts and approached him.

"Have you read it before?"

He jumped at her voice, nearly dropping the book in surprise. "No, I have not."

"You can borrow it, if you like," Hawke offered.

Instead of looking grateful, Fenris appeared uneasy.

"What is it?"

He didn't reply straight away, instead turning over the book in his hands, the letters a jumble of odd undiscernible symbols to his eyes. "Slaves were not permitted to read. I never learned."

"It's not too late to learn, Fenris," Hawke said softly. She kept the distance between them, offering no gesture like before. "It's quite a good book, actually."

Fenris didn't respond. He wanted to learn to read, even more so if Hawke was the one to teach him, but felt petty and needy if he admitted so. Instead, he dropped the book on the table again and turned to Hawke. His face was blank when he looked at her, giving away nothing. She gazed at him, mildly expectant.

"I will consider it," he muttered at last.

That's all I need, thought Hawke. She smiled at him reassuringly. "It's a date."