Chapter 9: Not in Polite Society

Hawke slid her hand under the crook of Fenris's arm. He would be her escort to the Viscount's garden. After months of the same walk together they were still faced with disapproving nobles and their servants. They whispered in smooth undertones as the couple passed. Kirkwall was renowned for its gossip, especially when it came to the Champion and her "friend".

By now, Fenris and Hawke had grown accustomed to the comments. I'm a mage, the feared and oppressed, Fenris is an elf, oppressed, but not feared, though, in this case, he should be feared. What an ironic couple we are, thought Hawke. I love it.

Hawke eased closer to Fenris. If they are going to talk, I am going to give them a good reason to do so, thought Hawke. It is funny to think that I saved them, a mere peasant. Now I elicit such attention that stories of my adventures are spread throughout Thedas. Yet, for all that Fenris and I have accomplished, our relationship is still frowned upon. She lifted her head higher in defiance of their unearned self righteousness. They would not win.

To her face she was known as the Champion, a heroine and worthwhile noblewoman. But the veiled whispers had not gone unheard. 'The knife-ear's whore, it takes all kinds, it's such a shame', and some of the remarks she simply refused to acknowledge. There was a select group of noblewomen who believed Fenris was her only option for marriage because she was a mage. But, in truth, it was a malicious statement borne out of jealousy and prejudice. Many noblemen had approached Hawke concerning possible courtship. She was always pleased to introduce them to her suitor. They made a swift retreat thereafter, but there was one who refused to take no for answer: Altan Doyle-Burgamond.

Altan Doyle-Burgamond was a famous spice merchant with an entire armada of ships. Hawke had attracted his attention at the Champion of Kirkwall banquet. In Altan's eyes, her beauty and notoriety made Hawke a valuable asset; a trophy to be won. For Fenris, Marian was his world.

Hawke had ignored Altan's advances to the point of burning his invitations and sending the ashes back as a token of her hatred. He sent gifts, had her followed and threatened Fenris on more than one occasion, which resulted in the untimely death of four mercenaries. Aveline was now involved. Either it would end or Hawke would end him.

Fenris opened the Viscount's garden gate for his lady. Few had ventured to enter since Dumar's death. The Elven eyes did a panoramic roam of the premises. When he was certain they were alone, he smiled without reserve. Hawke found it beautiful.

"Why are you smiling?" said Hawke.

"The roses are in bloom," said Fenris. "I...have always been fond of their shape and scent. It is nothing."

"You like this place don't you? I thought you hated dirt, Fenris?"

"It has a path. My feet do not stray from the stone."

She stared at his bare toes with longing. Fenris ignored her fetish and continued to follow the stoned trail.

Weeds had started to grow in defiance of a once well-manicured landscape. The path meandered through roses, trees and wildflowers. In the very center there stood a marble fountain in the likeness of Andraste. Fenris paused in this spot. He dipped two fingers in the water and splashed.

"It smells," said Fenris. "Why is this place unkempt? It is a pity."

"The city is in turmoil," said Hawke. "It seems a low priority without a viscount."

"But still...," said Fenris. "The people pay for public service."

A large lump of algae flew into the bushes. Hawke was cleaning. "Talk to Meredith. She is the one determined to lord over this city," she smiled, "Of course you would need to pay taxes before you could complain, Fenris."

Fenris sighed. Conversation amongst his friends and the local population was focused on the political problems of Kirkwall. There was no escaping it. The whole scenario was made more intolerable by the fact that Hawke was at the center of it all.

"How do you feel today?" There was tenderness in her voice. "I am worried about you."

Fenris began to walk. He plucked petals from the roses as he passed. "I have spent my life feeling only what I was allowed. These brief memories taunt me. They bring forth raw emotions that are painful, yet I crave them." He paused and released the petals onto the wind.

"I cannot imagine," Hawke rubbed his shoulder. "I wish...I could say something to make this better.

For a time, they continued in silence. Of late, even with the turmoil, Hawke had given thought to marriage and children. Watching Carver and Bethany grow from babies to adults had been rewarding for the eldest.

The first years in Kirkwall were about survival, seeing to her family's needs. The acquisition of the mansion and change in status gave her time to pause and consider her own needs. But after Fenris, and because he would not stay, there would be no one else for three years. She would not settle for less even though her mother was insistent she find a suitor.

It was true that she craved a certain amount of power and she had achieved a distinguished position in Kirkwall. But for all the glory and recognition it did not and could never replace a family of her own.

"Say it was possible to have your memories returned. Would you do it even if it meant pain?"

"No. I have had enough of pain." Fenris kicked a stray stone out of their way. "But I am not given the choice."

"Well, we could stop having sex for a time."

"That is not an option." He beamed a goofy grin. "I will not become a slave to my mind, Marian."

With those words, Hawke was determined to help Fenris and she would do it, if need be, at the cost of their relationship. The idea of starting a family began to slip away.

The circular path had ended. They stood staring at the rusty iron gate.

"Varric needs to speak with me," Hawke said as she picked at her hangnail. She focused on a column in the distance. To meet his eyes would mean to give away the lie. "I should see to it."

Fenris leaned over and kissed her cheek. "If you must."

"If I wait too long he will only make up a ridiculous story involving raiders and a daring escape."

Fenris loved her smile even when it was laced with false emotion. His arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her near. She could feel the sudden erection against her stomach.

"Do not be long."

He placed his hands on her ass and thrust gently against the top of her mound.

"Bold today, aren't we?"

"I want you," said Fenris in a weighty whisper. "Varric can wait."

"Fenris," she grunted. Her neck rolled backwards and he took the opportunity to nibble the silken skin. "Please, I must see him."

He stealthily brushed his hand between her legs. A line of kisses finished at her earlobe.

"Marian, it need not take long, though I am certain I can change your mind."

It took all of her resolve to pull away. "I promised, Fenris."

His nose wrinkled. "And you cannot break your promise to be with me?" The once seductive voice was filled with frustrated anger. "Is the dwarf's need greater than mine or do you fear I will not perform to your satisfaction?"

"Why don't you just add bitch to the end of that sentence? It would complete your obligatory demand."

Fenris growled. "Fine, I will leave."

"Fenris," she called after him, but he did not turn or acknowledge her plea. She watched him fade from view. "Maker," she whispered, "what is wrong with me?"

Hawke closed the gate and made for Lowtown. On the way, she observed the everyday people of Kirkwall participating in the chores of daily life. Those that were obviously married attracted her attention. Some argued, others displayed outward affection, but the ones with children did both. They were labored with the needs of their family. Regardless, Hawke was envious of their seemingly normal lives.

But, when given thought, if she had lived a typical life in Lothering, Fenris would never have been part of it. She would have married a boy from a local family and probably remained in the same place for the entirety of her life. It seemed a tremendously boring prospect without a lyrium-imbued elf to challenge her opinions or light her fire in the bedroom. She would not give birth to a pointy-eared rascal or have a new appreciation for elves and their lineage. It would simply be dull. The flare would fizzle.

Fenris had made her a better person, more in tune with differences and the woe that came with it. An ex-Tevinter slave would never win her points with the nobility or even the average Kirkwall commoner. People feared what they did not understand. The difficulty their relationship wrought was not hollow or vain. It was true.

Hawke entered the Hanged Man with some newfound perspective. Life with Fenris would not be easy, but it would be honest and most importantly, full of love.

Up the stairs and at the back of the pub was the abode of her dwarven friend, Varric. The room was clean and comfortable, even though the pub itself was a dive.

There were several unknown men huddled around the dwarf talking in hushed voices. It was a typical afternoon in the life of an underhanded storyteller.

Varric's eyes peered over the men's heads. He waved his hand and the men began to disperse. She wondered if one of her recent misadventures had been the topic of the conversation.

"Hawke," he held out his hands, "What brings you here to my humble home?"

She waited for the men to leave. When she was certain none of them were eavesdropping behind the closed door she began to speak.

"I need a favor Varric, but there's a catch."

"A catch?" Varric was intrigued. "What's the catch then?"

"You have to keep your mouth shut."

Varric rubbed his bristly chin. "That's asking a lot, Hawke. It must be serious."

"I'm desperate."

"Shouldn't you be saying that to the elf?"

"Varric, this is important to me," Hawke motioned to the door. She was on the verge of leaving. "This was a bad idea. Maybe I should go."

"Hawke, wait," Varric pulled out a chair. "Take a load off and I'll try to be less of an ass, but I'm not making any promises."

"This is...difficult." She rubbed her forehead. "I know you have been supplying Anders with books from Tevinter."

"Is that what this is about? I think Blondie is just curious what life is like for a mage in Tevinter. Ballsy, wouldn't approve but they hate each other anyway."

"Ballsy and Blondie? I worry for you some days. It scares me what goes on in that mind of yours.

"It scares you?" he chuckled, "It's my mind thinking up this crazy shit."

She raised a polite hand. "But you misunderstand. I'm not angry. I want you to find a book for me."

"Oh." He was confused. "So, you want me to find you a book about Tevinter? Call me crazy, but wouldn't the elf have a problem with that?"

"Not exactly. I need a book that will help me understand..." she hesitated, "Fenris's markings."

"Let me guess, you don't want the broody bastard to know what you are doing." Varric sighed. "You know he will eventually find out, Hawke or you'll tell him. You really are a terrible liar."

"Yes I know," said Hawke. Her voice was riddled with guilt and shame. "But you do not know how he suffers and if I can help him I will do it at any cost."

"You really do love that glowing son-of-a-bitch don't you?"

Hawke shrugged. A red tinge crept into her cheeks. "I thought that was blatantly obvious by now."

"I'll see if I can help. Just tell me exactly what you need."

"Thank you, Varric. I owe you one."

"You owe me several, but if you buy me a pint I'll call it even.

She hugged her friend. "Thank you."

"Hawke, that was weird and it made me have an emotion. Don't do it again or I'll have to talk about it."

Hawke slapped Varric on the back. "I just realized why you won't say anything about this."

"And why is that, madam?"

"Because then you would be the hero of the story."