Over the course of the following week Fenris tagged along on several rather easy missions. Like helping Aveline rescue one of her soldiers, Donnic, from the ambush that had resulted from her interference in the last ambush they managed to derail. Fenris found it odd that Aveline liked to bring him along on her missions, since every time he saw her she managed to antagonize him about his presence in Hightown. He supposed it made sense, though; Aveline's husband had been a Templar so bringing the mages tended to make her more nervous.
It was late on a Tordas morning when Fenris made his way to the Hanged Man to meet up with Varric.
"Oh, splendid," Anders said as Fenris entered Varric's room. "Here it was looking to be such a lovely day."
"I am honored to be your raincloud, Abomination," Fenris droned, taking a seat.
"You're everyone's raincloud," Anders muttered.
"Thank you, ladies," Varric spat, temporarily putting a stop to the squabble. "Do you mind if I get on with it? Or would you like to continue your little spat?"
Their silence answered the question.
"Good," Varric continued. "Now, a very important client — a Magistrate — has contracted the Hawk to retrieve an escaped prisoner unharmed."
"A Magistrate?" Fenris asked.
"Why would a Magistrate hire Hawke?" Anders asked. "Surely they have the means to hire the proper authorities."
"Glancing over the fact that you don't find us 'proper,'" Varric continued, "the prisoner appears to have broken out of the Circle, so our client is looking for delicacy."
"He's a mage, then," Fenris said with no small amount of displeasure.
"Suspected mage," Varric corrected. "He's also suspected of killing a few children."
"Why bring him in at all?" Fenris asked with a scoff. "Why not just kill him and be done with it?"
"Oh, yes," Anders spat. "Who needs proof when we can just kill a mage?"
"And tell me, Apostate," Fenris sneered, leaning toward Anders. "How many children must die before you are convinced of a mage's guilt?"
"Would both of you just shut up?" Varric interrupted, slamming his palms into the table. "Andraste's frilly knickers, I told Hawke not to bring both of you on this one."
Fenris and Anders exchanged scowls before Varric continued.
"Alive or dead isn't an issue. The Magistrate is paying us for alive, so alive is what we will deliver."
"And I suppose we're going to just take him back to the Circle?" Anders asked.
"No," Fenris growled. "We should let the child killer roam free."
"You assume his guilt solely because he is a mage," Anders argued.
"And you assume his innocence for the same reason," Fenris retorted.
"Will you ever stop harping on the mages here?"
"No."
"Fenris, they aren't what you saw in Tevinter!" Anders defended, standing up and planting his palms on the table.
Fenris mimicked Anders' gesture and stood to lean opposite him. "The moment they are free, mages will make themselves magisters."
"They're slaves! You should want to help them."
"I don't."
"Maker, help me," Varric mumbled to himself.
"Let me get this straight," Varric said, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. "You torture and murder elven children for being... too beautiful?"
Fenris noted that Hawke was flipping one of his daggers in that way he always did when he was trying to ease frustration. His sharp eyes were narrowed at their suspect and Fenris could tell the rogue was putting in significant effort to remain calm.
Fenris and Hawke were obviously of the same mind with this child killer.
"I didn't want to hurt them," the man defended with his hands up in surrender, "they forced me. The demons don't like it when they cry."
"You said yourself that the Circle says you are possessed by no demons," Anders offered.
"He is no mage," Fenris spat. "He is a murderer, plain and simple."
"Please," the man begged. "You have to kill me. I cannot stop!"
"I'm not getting paid enough for this," Varric groaned.
"He sees the truth of it," Fenris offered, moving a hand to his sword. "If you will not do it, allow me."
"The Magistrate is paying us to keep the lunatic alive," Varric said. "We can't just kill him."
"So that's what this boils down to?" Fenris asked, crossing his arms. "Your unnerving concern for your pocket?"
"Listen, snowflake," Varric began, but was interrupted when Hawke grabbed him by the pony-tail and started pulling him to the far edge of the room. Fenris divided his attention between making sure the murderer didn't run and trying to listen to Hawke and Varric's conversation, which was very quickly turning into an argument.
"You don't think I know that?" Varric asked. "We have orders, Hawke."
Hawke's arms flailed as he replied, putting in a great effort to keep his voice from being heard by the rest of the party.
"It's not just about money, you insufferable—" Varric stopped himself and sighed in an attempt to regain his composure. "Look, I don't like it any better than you, but everything changed the minute that box of crazy told us that the Magistrate is his father. We can't kill a Magistrate's son, Hawke. We have enough enemies in this city as it is!"
Again Hawke replied in a harsh whisper that Fenris couldn't make out, but he saw Hawke poke an angry finger into Varric's chest.
"Not forever," Varric replied. "We already get ambushed just walking down the streets at night, we don't need the authorities after us as well."
Hawke didn't say anything this time, just crossed his arms and glared down at the dwarf.
"You should know better than to try that with me," Varric sneered. "We take the lunatic alive."
Hawke shook his head before quickly jumping into the shadows and disappearing.
"Damn it," Varric said, returning to the group. "Grab him," he instructed as he headed for the exit.
"Where did he go?" Anders asked, referring to Hawke's mysterious disappearance.
"How in the nine levels of hell should I know?" Varric said over his shoulder. "Hawke answers to nobody."
"There you are," Merrill said from her seat beside Bethany at the Hanged Man. "You were gone quite a while."
"We had a bit of a… disagreement," Varric clarified.
"Oh?"
"Hawke and Varric have had a lover's quarrel," Fenris offered.
"Is that why he's not with you all?" the elf Merrill asked.
"Hawke can't stay mad at me," Varric defended. "It was the right call."
"You do not look certain," Fenris said as he took a seat.
"I didn't think he would storm off like that," Anders admitted. "He must have been quite angry."
"Hawke just needs time to cool off," Varric said, waving Moira into the room.
They all drank and quickly became exuberant. Regardless that Hawke never spoke, Fenris was aware of the rogue's absence. Usually the two of them sat together, silently observing more than joining in. Tonight Fenris sat against the wall alone, watching the celebration and listening to the conversation as an outsider does.
"I have yet to even meet your brother, Varric," Anders was saying.
"Why in Thedas would you want to?" Varric asked.
"Varric doesn't like his brother very much," Bethany offered.
"And here I thought it took blood magic to read minds."
"At least you both still have family," Merrill said. "I don't really have anyone I can call that anymore."
"That is your own fault," Fenris offered.
"You don't think I know that?" she snapped back. "But that's not the point. Whether or not you like your family doesn't matter, does it? Just the fact that you have it."
"I suppose you're right, Daisy," Varric soothed, patting the elf's hand.
"I imagine having Hawke as a sibling would lead to a lot of one-sided conversations," Anders said to Bethany. "How can you have a debate when the reply is always glaring?"
"Hawke gets the glaring from our father," Bethany said with a laugh, pulling her cloak around to cover the bottom half of her face like a mask and narrowing her eyes. "Look at me, I'm menacing!"
"I think you should leave the glaring to Hawke, Sunshine," Varric said with a smile. "You're much too gentle to pull it off."
They all laughed, all but Fenris, anyway. He sat, wide eyed as the puzzle pieces fell together. The moment Bethany wrapped her cloak around her face Fenris saw the resemblance. Bethany's bright blue eyes could hardly be compared to the sharp gold of Hawke's, but the shape of their eyes was identical. How had he not seen it before? He had remembered Bethany saying once that their father had been 'tall as a mountain'. Then why had Fenris never realized how odd it was that Hawke and Bethany were almost the same height? Fenris had always found it odd how Varric talked, especially when referring to Hawke, but in that moment Fenris finally realized why it was so strange: Varric never said 'he' and never said 'him'. Varric only ever said 'Hawke'.
It wasn't until the words that still haunted him echoed through his mind that he was sure.
You are no slave. Do not push until you break.
Hawke was a woman.
That was the only explanation, wasn't it? The only logical answer? The more he thought on it, the stranger it seemed. Why hide your gender, of all things? Was there some sort of shame that came along with being a woman from Ferelden? No one seemed to treat Bethany differently. Why would Hawke being a woman affect anything? He had thought that when he was finally let in on the secret, everything would make sense; but now that he knew, it just became more ridiculous by the moment. Maybe he was wrong and had just jumped on the first conclusion that made sense.
What a bizarre thing to hide,Fenris thought to himself.
"You alright?" Bethany asked, taking a seat next to him.
"Hmmm?" Fenris said, snapping out of his thoughts and focusing on the mage next to him.
"You look troubled."
"You always think I look troubled," Fenris said with a smile, reaching for his tankard on the table.
"True," she said with a laugh. "Your brooding knows no bounds."
"I do not brood," he said into his mug before taking a drink.
"So," she said, straightening her skirts a little. "What happened between Hawke and Varric?"
"Has he not told you?"
"He won't give me the details; says I'm 'ruining his good time' by asking. I just want to know if I should be worried."
"Worried? About Hawke?"
"We are related you know."
Fenris laughed. He knew all too well, but was careful that he didn't let on. If Hawke thought it was an important thing to hide, then he wasn't about to disrespect that.
"The child-killer turned out to be the son of the Magistrate who'd hired us," Fenris explained. "From what I could gather, Hawke wanted to kill him, but Varric did not want to make an enemy of the Magistrate. In the end, Varric was immovable on the subject."
"And what about you?" Bethany asked.
"What about me?"
"What did you want to do?"
Fenris exhaled through his nose and looked out into the gathering of people. "Elves do not get the same justice humans do in this city. He was murdering young elven girls, claiming it was at the behest of demons possessing him. He was simply mad, and should have been put down before he could cause anymore damage."
"I do not like all the killing," Bethany said. "My father trained me as a girl, and I only ever really concentrated on healing arts. Still, it seems to me that a man who kills children, no matter their race, is a man who cannot be saved."
"My thoughts exactly," Fenris said with a nod.
Bethany looked at him for a long moment, a smile hinting at the corner of her mouth. "You and Hawke are a lot more alike than I think either of you realize."
"Perhaps," he said with a small shrug. "Though you are a constant reminder of how different we are."
"Oh? How so?"
"You are the reason for Hawke's sympathy toward the mages," he said simply.
"You have no sympathy for them?"
Fenris opened his mouth to say no, but looking at the mage beside him the word wouldn't come out. "It is not that I do not have sympathy for them," he said instead. "I know all too well what it's like to have no control over whom or what you are, but in the Circle you would be safe: from others and from yourself."
"I see," she said, sitting back in her chair. "I suppose you would see me sent to the Gallows."
"I do not wish that for you, Bethany," Fenris said, leveling his eyes at her, "but I would sooner see you sent to the Circle than killed by the Templars."
"I would sooner be killed by the Templars than made tranquil."
"You would not be made tranquil," he assured, leaning back. "Of that much, I'm certain."
"Now, why do you say that?"
"If for no other reason," he said, smiling at her, "because you are Hawke's sister, and he would never allow it."
Bethany smiled and nudged his shoulder with hers. "Despite my best efforts, it seems that I rather like you, Fenris."
"I am glad to hear it," he said with a nod.
Fenris walked home that night with a fair amount of uneasiness in his stomach. Every memory of Hawke he could pull up only solidified his belief that she was a woman: the way her eyes narrowed, how she would sink into a hip whenever she crossed her arms. If she had the same curves as Bethany, they were well hidden under the several layers of cloth and leather she wore, yet it all made perfect sense. Never showing her face, limbs, or any skin besides that around her eyes all had context if she was trying to hide her gender. Even greater context was added in that she refused to speak, thinking her voice would give her away.
You are no slave. Do not push until you break.
Fenris stopped with his hand on the door knob.
She had spoken to him. She knew very well that she risked revealing her gender by doing so, especially with his elven hearing, but she had done it anyway. Ten words she seemingly thought more important than her secret.
Fenris didn't know if he was over-thinking the whole thing; after all he still didn't even know for sure that he was right. Regardless, as he finally walked into the mansion, he realized that — perhaps despite himself — he was smiling.
