Authors note:

Thank you to everyone that has taken the time to read this and big BIG thanks to Musicalrain for taking the time to review! Here's chapter seven to say thank you and I'll let you in to a little secret... I've already written a few more chapters, I'll try to update every few days or so! Enjoy!
~OoW~

Chapter 7

Hawke didn't see Eve for almost a week. He kept going to her room in the Hanged Man, but his pleas through the door for her to talk to him had gone unanswered. At one point he was convinced she had gone and left Kirkwall like she had threatened to do so soon after arriving, but Varric had assured him that his ears to the ground had confirmed she was still here.
Didn't make him feel any better about it though.
Bloody Anders and bloody Justice.

He worried about her, thought about her, couldn't stop feeling hurt she'd told a fade spirit about her past, when all she had told him was that she had no parents. If had been enough at the time, he didn't want to ask too much and push her away. But now knowing a little of the truth, he felt she never trusted him enough to tell him.
And a Templar that had chosen a Kingdom over her? Was that the Warden-King Alistair he'd heard about? That blond, bumbling wall of a bloke she'd been in Lothering with?
Why was he even bothered if it was? Eve and he weren't together now, she hadn't made him think they would be again, but being able to reminisce with her about what they had before felt so good, so much better than remembering his brother and sister were dead, that his mother was more concerned with her standing amongst the nobles and the Amell name than thinking of the past. It was like his father had never existed. She called herself Lady Amell now, it made him feel ill.
So when Bodahn announced a visitor one morning while he was writing in his journal up in his room, he almost fell over backwards to see it was Eve.
"Maker, I'd thought you left Kirkwall!" He breathed in relief as she stood in his doorway looking awkward.
"I did say I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye though." She said quietly, her eyes looking everywhere but him.
"Is that why you're here then? You're leaving Kirkwall?" He couldn't help the sadness from leaking in to his words.
"No, I'm not leaving. Not for time being anyhow. I have discovered how refreshingly uncaring Kirkwall seems to be about the Blight or The Hero of Fereldan in general. It's only the Fereldans that seem to give a shit about the stories, and they seem to believe quite strongly I'm dead. Oh, and apparently even if I weren't, they somehow think I stand 12 feet tall and shoot lightening from my eyes!" She smiled at him then, though he noticed it didn't fully reach her eyes. "Actually I came here to apologise." She continued stepping towards him.
"What for?" Hawke couldn't help but be surprised, she didn't have anything to apologise for.
"For punching you." She lightly brushed the fading bruise on his face with her fingertips.
He blushed slightly, it was the first time she'd touched him so intimately. But maybe he was reading too much in to it.
"Oh yeah that," he laughed awkwardly. "Apology accepted. And, err, if you wanted to talk about, you know, what Justice said, about your father..."
"I don't." She said harshly. Crap, he'd said the wrong thing again.
But she shook her head slightly. "Sorry." Her face softened. "There's not much to say, especially if you heard it already."
"How come you never told me? About your father?"
"I told you he was dead."
"You never mentioned he was a Templar or that he was a complete bastard from the sounds of it."
"I was, I am still, ashamed I suppose. Wanted to forget about it. Didn't want you to judge me, feel sorry for me."
"I wouldn't judge you for something like that." Hawke took one of her hands in his, "You have nothing to be ashamed of." He looked at her face, her eyes watched their twined hands. He looked at the scar that marred her face. Silvery, pink and rugged. Eve had told him once how she hated it, thought it made her look ugly, he'd told her honestly that it didn't, in fact he always thought it only added to that dangerous beautiful look she had, even more so as a twenty three year old woman. She would never say how she got it, but he would catch her tracing it with a terrible pained look upon her face and knew it wasn't an accident.
"Did your father do that?" He asked softly.
"Always with the questions," she smiled at him. "Yes, he did."
"Why? how could any father do that?"
She sighed heavily. "I was... maybe eleven I think, it was hard to tell back then, name days weren't celebrated.
He was in one of his rages, not helped by his lyrium addiction. He was beyond mad in the end, but he'd always been cruel. He thought I was my mother, thought I was a demon wearing her face. I don't remember much about it, but I do remember him holding me down as he tried to cut off my face. Luckily he was stopped when someone heard me screaming." Her brows drew down in pain.
Hawke felt sick. He knew bad things happened in the world, he knew there were sick and cruel people in it, he had seen the evidence of it, but to know it had happened to someone he knew and cared about churned his stomach.
"I'm sorry." He hugged her, he didn't know what else to do.
"Why," she laughed coldly, "you didn't do it." She pulled away. "Besides he's dead now. I got over it."
"Damn right you did!" He grinned at her. "Archdemon slayer, conqueror of darkspawn! Hail the Hero of Ferelden!" He declared dramatically.
She smacked him playfully on the shoulder, "Shut up!" She laughed. It was good to see her laugh, like having a bit of the old Eve back.
"Just don't feel sorry for me alright? You know I can't stand that shit."
"Pfft, feel sorry for you with the right hook you gave me, hardly! Jealous you can hit like that maybe, and a little surprised at the smiting, that was new." Truth be told he wasn't impressed with the smite, especially having felt the power of it, it was nothing short of painful, draining all his mana and disorientating him.
"Learnt it from an ex-Templar friend during the Blight. Came in handy with emissaries. And Justice." She shrugged as if she knew he didn't like it.
"Anders is mortified over what happened. He says he has little to no control over Justice when he comes out. He hasn't even come out of clinic in fear he'll run in to you and you'll kill him." In fact Anders had been close to leaving Kirkwall himself, it was only some quelling words from Varric that stopped him from running off. Hawke had seen him yesterday and he looked as though he hadn't slept in days over worry and guilt.
"He's a fool for what he did." She stated.
"No doubt, but he did what he thought was best at the time, he didn't think of the repercussions, I don't think he even thought it would go wrong."
"And now he and Justice are obsessed over the plight of mages." She grumbled.
"Well he does have a point, somewhere in the rambling nonsense of his manifesto."
She gave a questioning glance at the mention of manifesto. "Don't ask! Unless you want something to put you to sleep!"
"He's different now. They both are."
"Everyone is." Hawke said wistfully.
"Except you."
"Huh?"
"You're still as diplomatic and caring as always. Here was me thinking of ways I could punish Anders, and now you've talked me out of it!"
He laughed at her. "Don't tell Anders that, I think he might like to be punished by you!"
"Ugh, Garrett, thanks for that image!" She grimaced.
"You're most welcome, Messere!" He bowed dramatically, pleased he could make her smile.
"Thanks for the chat Garrett. Thanks for not being all..."
"Sorrowful and shit?"
"Yeah," she smiled. "Anyway, I've got to go now, took up some bodyguard jobs for some noble twat. Apparently wants me to wear, and I quote 'something as low cut as possible'. Maybe he wants to shock any attempts on his life with my tits!"
"That is really, ugh, perverted."
"Says the man who can't stop staring at Isabela's cleavage when she's in the room."
He couldn't stop his face from burning bright red. He was sure he didn't leer that obviously, did he?
"Don't worry, it's not like you can miss them." She smiled at him.
"You know you don't need to take crappy jobs like that, Eve. I've got plenty of jobs coming up, you can come with me, I am always in need of an extra sword. We split any coin we get paid, and any loot. It will be way more fun than leering noblemen!"
"Won't Fenris and Aveline mind? They're usually your swordsmen aren't they?"
"Aveline has her hands full as Guard-Captain and well, some of our jobs aren't exactly legit. I don't want her doing anything illegal, not with her position. And Fenris won't mind, he was suitably impressed by your smite, especially as it was used on Anders, you might even have a fan, though, it's Fenris, you can't always tell whether he likes someone or wants to put his fist through their chest!"
She seemed to mull it over for a moment, "Okay, yeah, sounds good actually. I miss fighting alongside others and I can finally see if you've improved your elemental magic."
"I'll have you know my elemental is awesome, no accidental fires anymore!" He grinned at her. "I'll let you know about any jobs you might be interested in soon then, and I'll see you at the Hanged Man? Tonight?"
"Sure," she pecked him on the cheek as she turned to leave. "See you later, Garrett." She called from the door.
He waved her goodbye, his spirit feeling much lighter than he had done when he'd woken. Now he only needed to grow the balls to ask her to accompanying him to the Viscount Ball he'd been invited to. Nugshit as Varric would say.