I hope to update again soon. I have the next chapter in my head already and I'm excited to get it all out. Thanks for reading. It's really great thinking there is someone else out there that might be enjoying my story the same way I've enjoyed the stories of so many other writers and the reviews simply make my day. Plus I'm having tons of fun!

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Chapter 11: Memory

The sun rose and set and rose again. The Hawke and the Wolf were oblivious to the passage of time and all thoughts of hunters and prey were set aside for the moment. Fenris studied the slivers of light sneaking through gaps in the shuttered window. For the better part of the past hour he lay there watching the light turn from yellow to orange to the red of early evening, all while his Hawke traced the patterns of lyrium with her fingers, and sometimes with her mouth, along his body.

"Have you memorized them yet?" Fenris asked, amused at her concentration. A mess of tangled black hair lifted up from his right leg revealing dark eyes and red lips pursed into a frown.

"That isn't what I was doing." The frown deepened.

"Yes, it was. You are the most painfully obvious woman I've ever encountered." The frowned morphed into a pout. "It's endearing." The pout morphed into a smile. He reached out to twist a few loose strands of her hair between his fingers where they tumbled down her shoulder.

"Do they change often?" She asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"I noticed that the lines change. It's very subtle, but they do. Did you never notice? Sometimes wider, sometimes thinner, a small shift, a little deeper in some places or barely there in others, but they're always slightly different." She hesitated to say what came next. "I daresay, that's what contributes to the pain..." It was said so softly it almost wasn't said.

He was shocked. He never had noticed. "I try not to look at them." His voice was tight in his chest and he felt Marian tense beside him, regretting what she had reminded him of. He twined her hand with his in reassurance. "Ask your questions. I will answer if I can."

She had clearly been waiting for him to give his permission. Little did she know she could have asked him to assassinate the Black Divine atop the Argent Spire and he would have done it smiling. Sharing what he knew about himself was far lesser a request and he found it troubled him not at all. "If you can?" She twisted her still naked body around and straddled him, sitting on his stomach, hands perched on his chest.

"I was an adolescent when I received my markings but I don't know exactly how old. My memories start then. Every day after that is not worth remembering until yesterday when I dragged you into this room." He propped his arms behind his head, unable to hold in a satisfied smirk.

"It was the day before yesterday, actually. If we stay in here much longer our enemies will have rallied." Fenris was aware of the fact that she was still allowing him one revelation about himself at a time. Many old wounds had melted away over the past hours in this room with Marian, but he still appreciated her respect for the ones that lingered. All in time.

Marian continued, "No rest for the wicked afterall." But she didn't try to get up, in fact she threw herself down on his chest.

"Are you referring to them or us?" He felt her muffled laughter against his chest and closed his eyes to savor the feeling of her breath on his skin. Fenris thought he heard the faintest of footfalls outside the door. "Speaking of wicked, the pirate is at the door. The dwarf is with her."

Marian stirred, "What...?"

"Hey, Elf! Put it back in your pants and let Hawke come out to play. Or keep your pants off and let me come in to play!" Isabela shouted and banged on the door.

Marian pushed herself off of Fenris. "She's very good at concealing her steps. I'm impressed you heard her coming."

"Yes, so no need to cry out my name quite so loudly next time. I promise I will hear you." He kissed the tongue she stuck out at him and then flipped her over on the bed, climbing out from underneath her. He was dressed in moments. Marian stood, meaning to do the same, but only made it as far as looking down at the ravaged remains of her clothing.

"This is your fault." She admonished as she pointed at the torn remnants on the floor. He smiled broadly, picked up his sword and walked to the door. By the time he stepped through and shut it behind him, he had stifled the boyish grin and replaced it with his well worn stoic mask of indifference.

"Is Hawke coming?" Isabela asked as Fenris walked passed her. He noted a depraved smile and a lewd tone to her voice, but he did just leave his lover naked in his room with no clothes so he was in no place to criticize.

"She will be following shortly." He mumbled as he started down the hallway. Varric fell into step next to him.

"Sooo, you're looking better than last we met." Fenris rolled his eyes and reached up to pull his hood low when he realized he had not even bothered to put it on. It somehow seemed unimportant now. "You were looking a bit peckish the other night..." Fenris didn't respond and kept walking down the stairs. "...taste good, did she?" Fenris stopped. Varric stepped casually past him.

"You have no idea." He suddenly realized he had spoken aloud.

Varric laughed. "Oh, I'm sure I can imagine, Elf."

Fenris followed after him. "I would prefer if you did not" he said with a very intentional edge.

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After slipping into her own room, hoping no one noticed her lack of clothing, Hawke got dressed and joined the others downstairs. She wore her familiar leathers and her beloved daggers were strapped to her hips. Her father's staff was slung across her back and it felt comfortable there. Her magic felt comfortable inside her and for possibly the first time, she felt no desire to hide it.

Clever Varric noticed the change in her when she sat down next to Fenris. She saw it in his eyes, but he said nothing. Isabela threw back a shot of something that was an odd green color and slammed the glass back down to the table next to a bottle full of said liquid. "Since when do you use a staff, kitten? These fancy magisters rubbing off on you?"

Hawke shrugged her shoulders, not feeling it necessary to share her deeper revelations. "We're in Tevinter. It's time I fought fire with fire. So what did we find out?"

"Well lovers," Isabela leered at her and Fenris. "While you two were shagging, I found a way into that manor. Did you know that most of the high and mighty mansions here have cellars that lead into the catacombs below the city?"

Fenris spoke up. "They were originally created by the cults worshiping the old gods. Now they are used mostly as secret passages. Only a very foolish magister would go without a concealed means of escape in the event of a seige."

Hawke pictured a dusty old magister crawling through a dank catacomb in a desperate attempt to preserve his own life. "A seige? You make them sound like kings in castles."

Fenris scoffed. "And why not? That is what they think they are." He was unable to bite back the bitterness in the statement. Hawke noticed his fist clench. She shifted her leg under the table to rub gently against his and he relaxed his fingers.

"I didn't see any escaping magisters, but I did see a few groups of ragged looking prisoners, possibly newly captured slaves, all bound together being shuffled inside through those catacombs." Isabela's distaste was obvious.

"While they're bringing slaves in the back door, I can tell you they're hauling lyrium out of the front door and shipping it off to Kirkwall." Varric interjected. "That merchant's name is Cassian. He has a nice mansion back in Hightown, been there for years, but kept quiet mostly. He's the second son of some noble family here, not a mage, and apparently that made him the second and the lesser son. He came to the Marches, opened up a small trading operation. He moved miscellaneous goods, nothing provocative, to some of the smaller cities in Tevinter; that is until recently when he cancelled all of his old contracts and bought himself a fancy new fleet to trade exclusively in Minrathous with the magister who now has your target on his chest." He nodded to Hawke and took a sip of ale as his companions absorbed the information.

Hawke looked over at Fenris who seemed surprised by what Varric and Isabela had accomplished while he was otherwise occupied. She puffed out her chest a little with pride in her friends. "How did you manage to learn all of these things?" He asked seeming to address both Isabela and Varric at once.

The dwarf answered with a self-satisfied grin. "One- Isabela is sneaky." Taking her cue, the pirate raised her glass again in salutations and downed another shot. "Two- I'm charming. Three- we used some of Hawke's coin to bribe the right people. Don't bother yourself with feeling bad, she's rich, and I've taken good care of her gold over the years."

"I am...impressed. And grateful for the assistance." Fenris's words were genuine.

"Don't mention it Elf. All her gold won't help her if the chantry zealots get their hands on her, so we're grateful she has someone else on her side."

Hawke rolled her eyes and groaned out loud at all the touching sentiment. "Yes, yes we're all very helpful. But, we still don't know the most important bits. Who are they selling all this lyrium to and what are they getting in exchange? It can't just be a few slaves," She turned to Fenris, "and how does re-capturing you fit into this operation? Why does he need you back so desperately?"

Now that she knew what to look for, Hawke saw the nearly imperceptible shift in the exposed markings on Fenris's neck. They were not glowing, just...different. Maybe she felt it more than saw it. He was uncomfortable...or uneasy somehow. She did not think he was deliberately keeping anything from them. It was more likely he had a bad gut feeling about something and did not want to divulge the painful details of the history behind his intuition.

All in time, she told herself. She smiled at the others, beaming from ear to ear at the prospect of some real excitement...that didn't involve being naked with her elf. Intrigue, righting wrongs, killing evil things; she could hardly wait. "I think it's time we go have some fun."