SMUT. There is smut here. I can't believe I wrote it. I love it, and I am equally embarrassed by it. I hope its not too awkward ; ) Anyway, here is your warning. There will be a long break in the text before and after, so if thats not your thing, you should be able to easily skip over it and read the next part.

Also, I (foolishly) began writing more while editing this chapter online, instead of on MicroWord. So, as the fates would have it, I accidentally deleted everything I had worked on before I could save it. Sooo, if it feels a little jumpy or jumbled, I apologize. I tried to rewrite it to the best of my ability, but I didn't want to make everyone wait longer for the chapter so I just went ahead with what I had. You guys are awesome.

.

.


Justice examined Hawke, "You are different here."

She looked over her shoulder at the man that had once been Anders, "Says the guy glowing."

He eyed her suspiciously and they continued on through the dark room.

As they left the long hall, they found themselves in what appeared to be the Gallows courtyard. A demon slowly slithered its way towards them.

"Ah, how rare to see so many forgotten magics in one day." The demon swayed around the group, studying them, "The fade is usually such a slow place."

"A demon of sloth." Justice turned towards Hawke, "Do not listen to it."

Hawke ignored the whining that persisted in the back of her mind, pushing forward to confront the demon. "Leave us." Her voice startled her, sounding slightly deeper than usual. No one else seemed to take note, so she shook the thought from her mind.

To everyone's surprise, including her own, the sloth demon complied. It's cloaked form slithering away the same way it had come, and leaving them alone.

"Oookay…" Varric looked around as if someone was playing a practical joke, Bianca at the ready.

"Uh, alright. Well, first room then?" Hawke finally relaxed her daggers, strolling over to a large, wooden door.

.


.

Down one pride demon, and a not so trusty dwarf later, Anders, Fenris, and Hawke made their way to the next room. As she pushed open the door, her companions disappeared behind her.

"Damn it." Hawke searched for her friends in the blinding light, but knew they would be gone. She looked down at her hands, once again seeing limbs that did not belong to her. A mirror revealed that she was now Arianni, Feynriel's mother. She spotted Fenyriel speaking excitedly with another man at the back of the room.

"That's it Feynriel! I'll have you scribing all of my letters soon."

The boy looked up at the projected image of his father with admiration and glee. The demons were obviously preying on Feynriel's desire for a family. Hawke felt bad for the kid.

"Does this mean I can come with you to Antiva, father? Mother said maybe this summer."

Hawke finally reached the father and son.

"Seriously, Feynriel. Again? This isn't your father. It's a demon, and I am definitely not your mother." In hindsight, the blunt direction was maybe not the best way to go.

"A demon?" the boy looked around with growing confusion and worry, "No, no, I want this."

His father morphed back into the desire demon it had always been, sending the boy running in fear.

"Feynriel!" Hawke tried to chase after him, but the demon blocked her way. As she faded back into her original appearance, her companions finally materialized.

"You, you turned him against me." The demon accused Hawke.

She shrugged her shoulders, "Complete accident. I was trying to help, honest."

"Take away my pets, and I'll take away yours." The demon scanned the companions behind Hawke. "How loyal are these…" her eyes passed over Fenris, "friends, that you would bring into the fade?"

"Do you think this slave would choose you over his freedom?"

"Cast your eyes elsewhere, demon. I won my freedom long ago." Fenris spat on the ground, standing by Hawke.

"But you fear them still. They have left their marks on your body and your mind..."

The demon's gaze passed Hawke before returning to the elf, smiling. "Then there are others who have left a… different kind of mark. You desire so much, yet you are afraid. You fear you will be running for the rest of your life. You fear what she could become." It circled Fenris, "I could give you what you seek. You could destroy the magisters and have everything, and everyone, you've ever wanted."

"Fenris." Hawke tried to get his attention. She watched as he was further drawn into the mind of the demon, "It's all a lie." She put her hand on his shoulder.

His markings flashed and when he turned to face her, his eyes were dark and red. He unsheathed his sword.

.


.

Fenris swiftly walked away from Kirkwall, trying to rid his head of the mess he had created in the fade. He had waited just long enought to make sure Hawke returned before promptly excusing himself. Varric's quick acceptance of the demon's offer had surprised him. However, he too had folded almost instantly when placed in the same position. The shame was unbearable.

He could still distantly feel the delicate entanglement of the demon's promises as they snaked through his mind. He had seen freedom, true freedom. He had been powerful enough to end Denarius, and strong enough to protect Hawke. The desire had been unlike anything he had ever experienced before, clouding his thoughts, urging him to take it. The last thing he remembered was unsheathing his sword to Hawke's betrayed expression.

I am a fool.

.


.

Hawke had just finished speaking with Feynriel's mother, when she saw Fenris leave the house.

"Oh, don't worry about Broody, he's just upset he made a fool of himself." Varric was straightening his jacket. "As opposed to some of us, who are used to embarrassing ourselves more regularly."

He shuffled around awkwardly for a minute, "Listen Hawk, I'm so sorry about what happened…you know, back there. Everything was so…strange. Nothing felt real, which makes sense considering..." he trailed off.

After a moment of silence, he finally met her gaze, "Anyways, I'm sorry. I want you to know that I will never choose a demon over you while conscious and sober."

She put a hand on her hip, tilting her head at her friend, "So, about less than half the time then?"

"Hey, its at least half… maybe two thirds, even." Varric still seemed uncomfortable, but was obviously relieved by her easy forgiveness.

She turned to examine Anders, "How about you, Anders? You feeling okay?"

He was rubbing his head slightly, but looked up to smile at Hawke's concern, "I'm fine, thanks. It just feels so strange to not be in control like that. A foreigner in your own skin. Guess that's how Justice feels all the time."

"On the bright side, you're the only person who didn't sell me out to a demon today. So, thanks for that." He laughed as she slapped his shoulder, and they left the small house.

"Lets go find Fenris."

.


.

Hawke held up a hand to her companions when she spotted the elf, standing alone near a cliff's edge.

"Wait here."

She approached noisily, immediately grabbing his attention. He glanced over his shoulder before returning his gaze back to the coast. Following suit, she stood next to him silently, waiting for him to speak.

"Why would you bring me to that place?"

"What?"

He turned to face her, expression grim, "Why would you bring me to the fade? I explicitly told you I had no interest in that realm."

She narrowed her eyes in confusion, "I needed help. I knew I could rely on you."

"And yet you couldn't." he looked down, his anger and remorse intermingled.

"Everyone gets one free demonic possession before I hold it against them. Don't worry." She grinned, crossing her arms.

"Do not make light of this. That— that thing twisted my fears, it controlled me without effort." His turned back to the sea below, irritated. "I failed you, and myself."

She put a hand on his arm, "Fenris, I—"

He pulled away from the contact, "Can you now see why I loathe magic? Why I hate demons? I was a pawn, owned and controlled by another, again."

"If anything this should prove to you that demons are a danger to anyone. Mage or not." Hawke retracted her hand, "In case it passed your notice, the only two individuals not to fall prey today were mages."

"Do not hold the abomination in such high esteem. He has already failed his test, and if you are not careful, you might one day too."

Hawke stepped back, "Is that what the demon meant when it said you were afraid of what she could become? Was it… was it referring to me?"

They were watching each other in unresolved silence when an arrow shot between them. Quickly drawing their weapons, they examined the surrounding area. Hawke spotted Anders and Varric performing the same search in the distance.

A man stepped forward from a small crag just above the trail, addressing Hawke and Fenris.

"Stop right there!"

"Hunters." Fenris growled in disgust.

"You are in possession of stolen property. Back away from the slave now and you'll be spared."

Hawke moved forward, irate, "Fenris is a free man!"

"I won't repeat myself. Back away from the slave now!"

The scene was escalating rapidly, as it often did. Hawke could feel Fenris light up next to her, pulsing dangerously, "I am not your slave!"

Before they could react, one of the hunters sent a blast of ice towards them. At the last moment, Anders cast a shield around the two, blocking the attack.

Without hesitating further, Hawke shot a massive ball of fire at the hunter, engulfing him and the small group surrounding him, before charging into the fray.

.


.

The fight was quick and vicious; soon only one hunter lay alive and bleeding on the ground. Fenris approached the man menacingly, grabbing the back of his head and jerking his face up to his own.

"Where is he?" he slammed the man's head into the ground before he could respond.

"Please… please don't kill me." The young man begged, spitting dirt from his mouth.

"Tell me!" Fenris slammed his head down again.

"I don't know! I don't know, I swear! Hadriana brought us. She's at the holding caves north of the city." He was crying, " I can, I can show you the way!"

There was a moment of desperate silence before Fenris responded, "No need. I know where you speak of."

With that, he snapped the neck of the young hunter and began walking away. The three remaining companions exchanged looks before quickly following.

"Fenris, what is going on?" Hawke asked, finally catching up.

"Hadriana. I was a fool to think I was free." He searched Hawke's face before turning from her and continuing his relentless pace, "They'll never let me be."

"Who's Hadriana?"

"My old master's apprentice. I remember her well: a sniveling social climber that would sell her own children if she thought it would please Denarius. If she's here, it's at his bidding. I knew he wouldn't let me go."

The venom in his voice made Hawke to be wary, Fenris's anger had a habit of blinding him dangerously. She studied his wearied and incensed features for a moment. There was no stopping him; he was going to chase this until the end, and she wouldn't let him do it alone.

"Lets get them."

.


.

After battling through several waves of demons, and guards they came upon a small elven girl, weeping amid the blood and gore.

Fenris approached brusquely, "Are you hurt? Did they touch you?"

The girl shied away in fear.

"Maker Fenris, you'll give her a heart attack." She blocked his movements, and turned to the girl herself. "You're safe now."

The girl wrung her hands frantically as the tears continued down her face. "They've been killing everyone! They cut papa; they bled him!"

Hawke's disgust with the magisters was growing rapidly, "Why would they do such a thing?"

"The magister, she said someone was coming to kill her. She said she needed more power."

Fenris turned away from her, disturbed by his role in the destruction. The girl continued, "We tried to be good! We did everything we were told! She loved papa's soup. I don't understand what he did wrong."

Hawke's heart ached for the girl. She was horrified by the act and horrified by the girl's attempt to justify Hadriana's choices. She had never really understood what being a slave was like, and she wasn't sure how much more she cared to know.

She stuck out her hand awkwardly, attempting to offer comfort, "Shit. It's, um… it's going to be okay."

The girl pulled away from Hawke, "Everything was fine until today!"

Fenris shook his head sadly, almost whispering, "It wasn't. You just didn't know any better."

The elf stepped towards Fenris, wiping her tears, "Are you my master now?"

He looked up horrified, "No!"

"But—I can cook, I can clean. What else will I do?"

Hawke reached a hand out to the girl, ushering her attention away from Fenris, "Go to Kirkwall, and find the Amell Estate in Hightown. Tell Bodahn Hawke sent you. He'll get you set up."

The girl nodded her head eagerly, drying her eyes. "Oh praise the Maker! Thank you!" she ran off, leaving the desolate and rotting caves.

Fenris turned on her angrily, "I didn't realize you were in the market for a slave, Hawke."

Hawke's brow immediately furrowed in confusion, "I gave her a job, Fenris. Do you really think so lowly of me?" She said his name tightly, attempting to hold back her own anger at his assumption.

He stepped back, rubbing his neck, "Ah, then… Good. My apologies." He turned away from her and continued to walk away, "Let us find Hadriana and be done with this place."

.


.

Several more attacks by mages and their summoned demons, led the group to a long open room. A tall woman stood at the far end, a sneer plastered on her overconfident face.

She eyed them with boredom before speaking, "Look at Fenris, all grown up and found himself a new master."

The elf snarled dangerously, only prompting an even larger grin from the woman.

"I don't believe we've met. I'm Fenris's friend, Hawke. You must be that crazy bitch I only just heard about?"

The woman chuckled darkly, "How quaint. Fereldan, no doubt?"

She turned her attention back to the elf; "I'm positively wounded, little wolf. Have you found another to warm your bed so quickly?"

Hawke heard Anders choke behind them, Varric's elbow quickly finding its way into his stomach. She watch Fenris bristle at the comment, his hands curling into tight fists.

"Ah, no matter. Soon you will be back where you belong."

Hawke's grip on her daggers tightened, "The only place Fenris belongs, is wherever the fuck he wants to be."

Hadriana scoffed at her, "Definitely Fereldan. I am going to enjoy killing you, and your other companions."

Fenris charged the woman, but was stopped in his tracks by a spell. Snakelike vines slithered from the ground, entangling his legs and rendering him immobile. Hadriana began preparing another. Hawke quickly gathered all of her energy, and forced it towards the woman, putting all of her strength behind the push. A powerful fist of energy shot forth and into Hadriana's chest, sending her flying backwards into a wall.

She sat up, wiping the blood from her mouth, "A mage. Isn't that a surprise? You'll die the slowest, you bitch."

.


.

The woman finally fell, and her staff was knocked away from her hand. She scrambled for the instrument, but Fenris was faster. He grabber her by her robes, forcing her to sit up painfully. His markings ignited, prepared to take her life.

"Stop, you do not want me dead!" Hadriana yelled, putting up her hands between them.

Fenris snarled at her, "There is only one person I want dead more."

"I have information, elf. And I will trade it in turn for my life."

Fenris sneered at her offer, "The location of denarius? What good would that do me? I'd rather he lose his pet pupil." The glow of his lyrium intensified.

"You have a sister!"

It felt like the air left the room, and Fenris faltered. A grin spread across Hadriana's face, and she seized the moment.

"You wish to reclaim your life? Let me go, and I will tell you where she is."

"Nug-shit." Hawke crossed her arms, standing a few steps back from him.

Hadriana ignored her, keeping her gaze focused on the elf, "I know you Fenris. I know what you're searching for." She reached out a hand that stroked his jaw; this time is was Hawke's turn to bristle. The woman's gaze grew increasingly more sinister as she became more confident. "If you want me to betray Denarius, you'll have to pay for it." She smiled wickedly.

Fenris was silent for a moment, showing no reaction to her offer, as he thought. Finally, he slowly closed the small gap between them, leaning his face directly in front of Hadriana's.

Her smile only wavered momentarily before she continued, "Do I have your word?"

"You have my word." Hawke was surprised by his agreement, but waited.

"Her name is Varania. She is in Qarinus, serving a Magister by the name of Ahriman."

"A servant? Not a slave."

She shook her head at him, "She's not a slave."

Fenris's eyes narrowed at the woman, studying her intently before his markings pulsed, "I believe you."

He shot his arm through the mage. Her eyes were wide in fear and surprise as he shoved his hand deeply into her chest, lingering for longer than necessary. She gripped his arm with her hands, weakly struggling against his strength. Her arms slipped limply from him to her side as he jerked his hand back. Blood and gore dripped down his arm, her mangled heart crushed in his fist. Thick, red liquid seemed to flow endlessly from her body, surrounding them. He dropped the carcass carelessly, standing to face Hawke.

"We are done here." Everyone stood frozen in shocked silence.

"Do, uh… do you want to talk about it?" Varric tested the mood.

Fenris spun around at the group, "No! I don't want to talk about it." He spit out the words angrily, "This could all be a trap."

He began pacing, "Denarius could have sent her here to tell me about this—this, sister. Even if he didn't, trying to find her would still be suicide. He has to know about her and has to know that Hadriana knows…"

He stopped, looking back at the mangled corpse of the mage, "But all that matters is that I finally got to crush this bitches heart." His voice cracked in frustration. "May she rot, and all the other mages with her."

"That's healthy." Anders whispered from the corner.

Hawke was speechless. She knew Fenris was in distress, but the statement was harsh, even for him. She reached out an unsure hand, never knowing quite what to do in situations like these.

Fenris dodged her advance, "Don't comfort me. You saw what was done here! There's always going to be some excuse, some reason for mages to do this! Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her. What does magic touch that it doesn't spoil?"

As the last words came from his mouth Hawke's heart fell and her expression hardened. She knew this was a mess, but Fenris had crossed a line, several times over.

"I—" he wiped the gore from his face, his mind finally catching up with his mouth, "I need to go." He turned away from her and left the caves.

.


.

After a few too many pints at the Hanged Man, Hawke found herself a dangerous combination of angry and drunk. On her way home, she made the last minute decision to confront the elf, and veered off towards his mansion. His words had been unnecessary and malicious. Hawke was a mage, her father and sister too. Did he feel that way about them? Against her better judgment she stomped and stumbled through Hightown. Without pausing, she burst through Fenris's door, letting it slam shut behind her.

The elf was standing in the main room stinking of liquor and dirt, an open bottle of wine in his hand.

"What the fuck, Fenris?"

"Hawke."

She approached him rapidly, "I'm sorry about the smell, I've spent the last few hours rotting with all the other mages at the Hanged Man."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, turning away from her, "Hawke… I took out my anger on you, undeservedly so. I was… not myself."

"I can handle your anger Fenris, it's your perpetual loathing for my magic I can't keep up with."

He took a long swig of the wine in his hand, still not facing her, "There is nothing that I could hate about you. I hate the magisters, hate magic, but I cannot hate you." He sighed, walking away a few steps before pausing again, "When I was a slave, Hadriana was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny me my meals, torture me… use me for her... pleasures."

Hawke paled a little, holding her breath and allowing Fenris to continue, "Because of her status, I was powerless to do anything, and she knew it. The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now… I couldn't let her go."

"Fenris, if you asked me, I would help you burn Denarius's House to the ground. I could give two shits that you killed that bitch. But when will you learn to separate terrible individuals and magic? They're not synonymous."

"Don't you think I want to? I can't let it go! I can't erase my nightmares." He turned around, walking quickly towards her in anger, "It's a sickness, this hate inside of me… this dark growth. I thought I could escape it, but it dogs me no matter where I go."

"Only because you allow it to!" Hawke pushed back, "Your fears, your hate, you allow them to control your life. To chain you to your past!"

"Spoken like someone who has never been a slave." Fenris spat, turning away from her again.

"Stop being so bloody, stubborn!" she grabbed his arm. His markings lit up dramatically, and before she knew what was happening he had her roughly pinned against the wall. There was a heavy silence, both fuming and breathing deeply. After a moment, Fenris sighed, backing away and releasing Hawke from the hold, "You should go."

She left the mansion, feeling worse than when she had entered.

.


.

The following evening, Hawke found herself helping Anders in his clinic again. The night had been busy, but now that they were entering the early hours of the morning, it was quieting down.

Anders stopped folding blankets, "Hawke… I know we haven't really talked about that night."

She smirked, continuing to sort through the books and papers on his desk, "And we definitely don't have to."

He smiled crookedly, "I know. But I'm sorry I… jumped on you. For lack of a better description."

Hawke looked up from her task as he continued, "I've been thinking…" her smiled faltered a bit, "It's just— Justice does not approve of my… association with you. He believes you're a dangerous distraction." He walked closer to her, stopping short, "It is one of the few things on which he and I… disagree."

"Don't let him hear that. I'm definitely not in the mood for a lecture." She tried to defuse the nervous air that filled the room.

He laughed a little, keeping his gaze on her, "No lectures tonight, I promise."

"Anyway," he cleared his throat, looking down nervously, his hands twitching at his sides, "I've been an idiot. First, turning you away, and then acting rashly." His speech was jumbled and halting, "I just… I think we could have something. At least, I would like to see if we could have something… more." He finally looked up again, meeting her gaze.

Hawke stumbled over her words, caught off guard. Her roller-coaster with Fenris had kept her mostly distracted these last few weeks. She hadn't even thought about the kiss with the mage, or considered that Anders would still be interested in more.

"Anders… no. You're amazing, but I'm—"

"Its Fenris, isn't it?" He turned away, irritated, "Everyone keeps talking about it, but I wasn't sure." He hit his hand on his desk, "He's a beast, Hawke. He will turn on you."

Hawke's eyes narrowed angrily, "Look who's talking? The man literally warring over himself with a corrupted spirit." She approached him, "I lo—care about Fenris, but that is neither your concern, nor the reason I'm saying no, and you know it."

The slip about Fenris had left her reeling a bit. She had not intended to say that; in fact she hadn't even considered that as a possibility.

"I—Fine." He seemed flustered with what to say, "Whatever you see in a maniac like that… perhaps at least your hand will tame him."

"I think you can finish up here. I'm going home." Hawke slammed down the books she had been holding, immediately leaving Anders and his clinic without another word.

.


.

A heavy rain began to fall as soon as Hawke exited Darktown, and she decided to wait out the storm at the Hanged Man. She had experienced worse fights with all of her companions, including Anders, but this particularly tumultuous week had been taking its toll. Her comment about Fenris certainly wasn't helping either. They had been friends for over a year, but their recent dalliance was far too soon to really tell if there was something more.

She pushed open the rotting door to the pub, inhaling the potent scent of stale ale, and unwashed bodies. A simultaneously disgusting, yet warmly familiar experience.

The pub was packed as usual. A bard sung loudly in the far corner, trying her best to ignore the drunken, lecherous stares of the Hanged Man's upstanding patrons, while Edwina pushed through the rambunctious crowd, taking orders as well as giving them.

Hawke pushed her way through the small space, squeezing up to the packed bar and signaling for some drinks.

"No. Not you, not today." Edwina appeared, wiping off her empty tray and working quickly to refill it.

"Oh, come on. I promise I'll tip well." Hawke futilely made her best attempt at puppy-dog eyes for the barmaid.

"Ain't no tip in the world big enough to make your messes worth it."

Hawke raised her right hand over her heart; "I swear on Andraste's ashes, I won't cause any trouble today."

Edwina sighed, unconvinced, but slid a drink towards Hawke anyway.

"One more for the road?" Hawke tilted her head at the woman, who growing increasingly disinterested with every moment that passed. She sloshed another drink towards the mage unceremoniously, mumbling complaints as she turned away to continue her work.

Hawke grabbed the mugs and headed towards Varric's suite, wiggling and dodging through the masses of drunks. She paused when she reached the room, hearing an argument on the otherside.

"It's not going to fit."

"Just push harder."

Hawke used her foot to push open the door, balance the two mugs in her hands. Varric and Isabela stood at the far side of the room, inelegantly shoving a large body through the open window. Another unconscious man lie on the ground in a growing puddle of blood.

The two froze when they hear the door open, but continued as soon as they realized it was Hawke.

"Come over here and help us, would you? Edwina will have my balls if she finds them in here." Varric's voice was strained beneath the weight of the heavy man.

She walked over slowly, setting down her drinks, "What in the void are you doing?" She grabbed the collar of the man, helping to hoist him through and out the window.

They leaned over the edge, watching his limp bod collapse onto an unattended cart full of hay.

"Actually, do I want to know?"

"Some men just don't know how to lose with grace." Isabela's voice strained as she began dragging the second man towards the window.

They heaved him through the small opening and dropped him onto the passed out man below.

Hawke returned to her drinks, plopping herself down in a chair and putting her feet up onto the table.

"Oh, how thoughtful of you." Isabela sat across from her, reaching for one of the mugs.

Hawke swiped it from her grasp, "Get your own, wench. These are mine."

"Rough night?" Varric dusted off his hands, taking a seat at the head of the table, and dragging a half empty bottle of whiskey towards him.

"Rough week." Hawke responded, muffled by her rapidly draining ale.

"What are you doing, slumming it down here so late? Or is it early?" Isabela began cleaning her nails with a small knife.

"Helping Anders at the clinic."

"Ah, so I guess that didn't go very well." Varric nodded to her empty glasses, pouring a few shots and sliding them across the table.

Hawke shrugged him off, grabbing one, "It's fine, we just had a disagreement."

"And did that disagreement have anything to do with a certain brooding elf we all know?"

Hawke ignored the question, throwing back the shot. Varric followed suit, coughing a bit, "Well, what ever it did, or didn't, have to do with I'm sure Blondie will get over it."

He cleared his throat awkwardly, pouring more drinks, "But uh, since we're on the topic… As your friend, I feel like I'd be doing you a disservice if I didn't say anything. You do realize broody is covered in spikes, like some sort of angsty porcupine? He might have a few issues."

Isabela put her feet on the ground, leaning over the table, "Oh come on Varric. That taut, controlled body. The brooding demeanor, and intense gaze." She sucked down the offered whiskey, "You know, I hear he still wears the shackles from a life in bondage beneath his clothes." She wagged her eyebrows at Hawke.

The door to Varric's suite swung in, Edwina entered with a full tray of ale, eyeing the group suspiciously.

"Edwina, you minx, are those for us?" Varric eyed the drinks.

"Not getting into trouble up here, are we?" The woman searched the room from her spot by the door.

"Trouble? Never." Isabela rested her head in her hands.

"Right, so that is…" Edwina pointed at the large puddle of blood on the ground.

"...from a nose bleed?" Hawke smiled.

"You lot will be the death of me." Edwina sighed in exhaustion, putting down the drinks and leaving the room.

.


.

The rain seemed to have only intensified since Hawke's stop at the Hanged Man, concealing the light of early morning with heavy clouds. However, the break had been much needed, and now, warmed by ale and the good humor of her friends, her mood had settled to something tranquil and pleasant.

She thought back to the argument with Anders. She knew Justice was exhausting him; the mage and his ill-fated spirit had been perpetually fighting ever since their return from the Deep Roads. She couldn't fault him for grasping at any sense of stability. Rather, it was the uncomfortable revelation about Fenris that was still scratching at the back of her mind.

Had she really almost said that she loved him? Could her feelings have progressed so quickly?

At least, true to their form, their penchant fighting had not ceased, and their relationship in general felt relatively unchanged, but with the recent events in Fenris's life, Hawke wondered it if might be a foolish time to be exploring… whatever this was.

She thought of his lips on her skin and the feeling of his sharp gauntlets pressed against her, and was grateful for the cooling rain on her rapidly reddening face. Maker, she didn't want to stop exploring. Her stomach continued tying itself into not altogether unpleasant knots as she rounded the corner of the courtyard in front of her home.

Stopping dead in her tracks, she saw Fenris standing near the large door to the Amell estate. He had clearly been waiting a while, and was soaked almost as thoroughly as Hawke. The air left her lungs, and she remained frozen in place, her heart beating wildly. They had spoken little since their argument, and the sight of him dripping wet and stalking towards her was almost too much to bear. She couldn't help but feel like prey beneath his intense gaze.

He finally spoke, emitting a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine, "I have been thinking about you. In fact, I have been able to think of little else." He stopped just before making contact, "Command me to go, and I shall."

Hawke could feel his breath, and the heat radiating from his skin, "Stay."

He grabbed her vest, quickly pulling her tightly against him and swallowing whatever else she might have said.

The rain continued to pour, but Hawke didn't care. Her head was swimming with the electric exhilaration of Fenris's tongue. She grabbed his armor and spun him around, pushing him up against the stone wall of the estate, quickly bringing her mouth back to his as he wrapped his arms further around her. She pressed her thigh against his leg, feeling his arousal. A shockwave passed through her body in response and she pulled back. Without a word, she grabbed his hand and led him through the door.

.

.

.

.

.

.


.

.

.

.

.

.

Fenris followed willingly behind Hawke. Her body swayed confidently, even as she tried to lead him through the house quietly. Once they were inside her room, she shut the door, turning around to face him. They stood in silence, a few steps away from one another, with nothing but the pattering of rain on the tall windows interrupting the quiet.

She reached up to free her hair, smoothing out the wet locks with her fingers, while kicking off her boots. Fenris's eyes slowly moved over her, studying her form, illuminated by the warm, flickering light of the fire. Her clothes were soaked and disheveled, her tunic and vest clinging to her slim frame. He remained frozen in place as she worried her bottom lip.

In response to his inaction, Hawke made the first move. Holding his gaze, she slowly unbuttoned her vest, allowing it to drop to the floor before she began to unlace her pants. His eyes followed her every move unblinking. He didn't understand the overwhelming feeling that dominated him whenever he was around her, but he wanted more. He needed more.

Moving her hips slowly, she pushed the dark, leather pants to the floor.

Standing in front of Fenris now, she was in a long, cream tunic that hung open loosely in the front; her nude form visible beneath the thin, wet fabric. He stared, captivated, as her bare feet shuffled beneath her.

Crossing her hands over her waist, she pulled the shirt over her head, discarding it on the floor, along with her other garments.

Fenris marveled at the woman that stood before him. Completely bare, with tangled, damp hair that hung freely behind her back. His eyes traced the curves of her muscles, memorizing her pale skin, marred by bruises and old scars, indicative of the warrior she was. The lyrium in his skin murmured steadily, as his heart beat rapidly, threatening to jump from his chest. Never in his life could he have imagined having someone like Hawke. Yet here she stood.

Fenris moved to close the gap between them, continuing to study her. He reached out to touch her skin, brushing his fingers over her stomach, and rousing his lyrium brightly on contact. His fingers splayed out over her, stroking their way up to her ribs. He gently grazed his hands over her nipple, massaging her breast, and relishing the tremble that passed through her body.

He continued to move up to her neck, before weaving his hand into the thick, long hair at the base of her skull. Her bright eyes held his gaze intensely, lips slightly parted in thought. He gripped the locks firmly, leading her mouth to his.

The kiss was slower and deeper than in the rain. Each moment with her further erased the troubles from his mind. Fenris wanted to forget his hate, and the world outside; he needed to forget everything that wasn't Hawke. She glided her tongue across his, searching his mouth earnestly. Her taste was powerful and relentless, and he couldn't stop the groan that escaped his lips as she pressed her warm body harder against him.

She leaned back, tilting her mouth up to his ear, her warmth breath tickling his neck, "Are you sure?"

Her lips lightly touched his ears, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation. He had never been so sure of anything in his entire life.

"Yes."

She moved her hands to his shoulders, twisting his body around, and pushing him against the wall. He leaned forward, hunting for her lips again, but she pinned him back firmly, and began the arduous process of unbuckling and unlacing his armor. He watched her with reverence as she thoughtfully removed each piece, setting it onto the ground. Soon he was down to a simple, black shirt and pants. She pulled the shirt over his head, letting it hang limply in her hand as she took a moment to trace the lean muscles of his arms and chest.

Fenris leaned back, enjoying the glow that reflected on her face as she traced his lyrium. She brought her mouth to his shoulder, slowly kissing along his collar and moving up his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, gently grazing his fingers up her back as she worked to unlace his pants. Finally succeeding, she pushed them down passed his hips, just enough to free his arousal. He stilled as he felt her hand wrapping around him, eliciting a sharp, involuntary sigh into her hair.

Before he knew what was happening, Hawke was slowly kissing her way down his chest. She slid to her knees in front of him, bringing his pants with her.

Fenris looked down at her, "Hawke, I—" his voice transformed into a shocked moan as she wrapped her mouth around him. He jerked his head back in surprise, hitting the wall behind him painfully. Hawke held him securely in her hand, gliding her tongue around his tip.

Satisfied that he was enjoying himself, she began to take long, slow strokes down his length. Her hands moving confidently in time with her mouth, while he struggled to remain standing. He buried his hands in her hair, wracked with a pleasure that had never been bestowed upon him, and unraveling at the seams.

When she paused, he grabbed her arms, pulling her from the ground back to his lips. He wasn't going to last if she continued, and he never wanted this to end. Lifting her further up against him, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he moved them to the bed, desperately savoring her taste. When they reached their destination, she let her feet fall to the ground, pushing away from him, and edging back onto the blankets.

Fenris was immobilized as he watched her fair form laid out before him: blue eyes darkened, hair wild, and lips red and swollen from exertion. She was perfect.

She smiled at him, leaning back on her arms, and inviting him forward.

Fenris slowly crawled over her, starting at her feet and working his way up. He wanted to kiss every part of her, lick every scar. He needed to feel his skin burning beneath her. When he reached her face, he stretched out next to her, slowly stroking his fingers up and down her body, studying her expression.

"What's wrong?" Hawke was reclined on her side, using a hand to support her head.

He watched her, not knowing what to say. Everything was right, and that was what was wrong. For the first time in his life, he felt content. He tasted freedom in her skin and on her tongue. "I never thought I needed anyone… or wanted anyone, until you." He continued his caresses, gazing languidly up her body. "You are beautiful."

A blush began to rise up her neck as she reached a gentle hand to his face, encouraging his mouth to meet hers again. He pushed back, leaning over her to continue the fervent kiss, appreciating the strong, warmth of her tongue against his.

One hand still danced lazily down her muscled form, until finally reaching her hips. His fingers extended lower, lightly playing with the dark, soft hair. Hawke's breathing became more uneven the further he edged. He let two fingers lightly drift between her thighs, just barely pressing against her. Her hips jerked slightly to meet him, and her breath stilled momentarily. Agonizingly slow, he moved his fingers deeper into her warmth, gliding in gentle long strokes.

Hawke let a small gasp slip against his mouth, producing a grin of satisfaction from the elf. He removed his hand, appreciating the moisture he had stimulated between her legs. Without much consideration he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting her arousal on his tongue. Her eyes darkened as he moved his way down her body until he reached her hips, where her legs were pressed together in anticipation.

Fenris could feel her tight muscles as she desperately tried to maintain control. He gripped her legs, massaging them and settling himself between her, slowly kissing and caressing up and down her thighs.

"Fenris…" Hawke's whispered pleas only fueled the fire that was already burning in his veins. He continued his leisurely motions, reveling in the shivers beneath him. He finally reached her center, continuing to kiss and bite, before slowly sliding a tongue between her smooth entry. She subdued a small cry as he clung to her hips, sinking his mouth further into her, and taking long, unhurried strokes with his tongue.

Hawke was intoxicating. Honeyed and wet, he never wanted to stop, and he never wanted her to stop making those enticing noises. Fenris slowed his motions, pausing at her reddened bud to nip at it gently. Placing his mouth over the sensitive spot, he pressed down and began lightly sucking, using his tongue to caress the area.

Hawke's back arched beneath him, "Maker, Fenris…"

He smirked into her, before continuing, desperate to hear more of her vainly concealed moans. He brought his hand to join his mouth, gradually immersing two fingers into her. She trembled, releasing a long, low sigh, and he felt himself swell further as she tightened around them. Hawke began to move her hips, one hand engrossed in his hair, the other trying to stifle her loudening voice.

"Fenris, please." She pulled at him.

The elf ceased his actions, pausing to look up at her. He had fully intended to continue until he saw her eyes, hooded and ardent with desire, calling to him.

He moved up her body, and she sat up to meet him, claiming his mouth. Pushing him over, she flipped herself to sit atop him. He leaned against the back of the bed, drinking in her flushed and aroused form, allowing his hands to roam over her. He took his time, savoring her softness, dewy from sweat and rain. He hadn't thought it was possible for her to become any more beautiful, but here she was, glowing and determined, proving him wrong again.

She brought her mouth to his, pressing him firmly against the backboard with ferocity. Her hand stroked at his member, bringing herself over him. He opened his eyes, pulling back from her mouth to watch, unable contain the burning moan that escaped his throat at the feeling of her easing onto him.

They remained still, with their heads together, adjusting to the sensation while his markings hummed brightly beneath her. After a moment, Hawke began to move herself on him, digging her fingers into his neck. He kept his anchored on her waist, helping her roll her hips over his own. Moving a hand to her back, he pressed her towards him, taking a breast into his mouth. Encouraged by her impassioned sighs, he nipped and languished her raised peaks with his tongue and teeth.

Her constant pace and throaty gasps guaranteed Fenris wasn't going to last much longer. He freed his other hand, reaching down between her legs to caress her while she continued to ride him.

"Fenris, I'm—" her breathing grew ragged, and she cut off her own sentence with a lament of pleasure. "… don't stop."

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her blushing skin, couldn't stop hearing the way she moaned his name. Just as he felt he couldn't control himself any longer, she tensed, crying out a final time and constricting around him. He followed quickly, losing control of his motions as he choked out a hoarse growl, and spilled into her. Fenris clutched her closely, whispering breathless Tevene into her ear while she rode out the final waves of pleasure.

.

.

.

.

.

.


.

.

.

.

.

.

"Leto!"

Fenris found himself standing alone on a cobbled street. The buildings that surrounded him were towering and outlandishly ornate, and the salty smell of the sea drifted throughout the streets. He was in Tevinter.

"Leto!" The stranger giggled again. He could not place the voice, but it was somehow familiar. He began following the echo, down the long streets, and dim alleys. As his searched went on, his desire to find the mysterious person behind the call intensified.

As he continued, the scene changed and he found himself walking through tall grass. He could just see the wide bay that led out to the endless sea.

"One day we'll leave this place Leto. You, me, and mother."

He looked down at the young woman standing next to him. Her hair was a fiery red, hey eyes the same green as his own. He could not find her name. She took his hand, and they stared out at the sun setting over the calm water.

Before he could stop it from happening, the scene changed again. This time he was laid out onto a large stone slab. The room was damp and only lit by candlelight. He looked down at his nude body. His skin was tan and smoothed, not a mark of lyrium in sight.

"Are you ready Leto?" A sickly familiar voice spoke from the darkness. Fenris closed his eyes tightly, this was a voice he had no trouble placing. Denarius approached the table that held Fenris, eyeing him appreciatively. The man reached out a hand, lightly stroking Fenris's exposed skin. He tried to flinch away, tried to scream, to rip out the throat of the monster that stood before him, but he couldn't move.

Denarius's cold, high laughter filled the room, as an unbelievable pain wracked Fenris's body. He cried out in pain.

Suddenly he was no longer on the table, but standing next to it, obediently watching Denarius inflict his horrors on another poor soul. He studied the bare form on the slab, writhing in pain, and felt ice run through his veins. Hawke lay sprawled on the surface, her hands balled into tight fists and her muscles contracting in anguish. Her blue eyes called out to him, begging him for help, but he remained frozen.

Denarius's laughter grew louder and more maniacal until it was all Fenris could hear as he watched, helpless.

.


.

Hawke slowly began to stir from her slumber. Facedown on the bed, she stretched out her legs, enjoying the smooth, silk sheets that draped loosely around her waist. Her muscles were warm and relaxed, a pleasant reminder of her recent activity. She reached out a hand only to find the space next to her empty and cold.

Opening her eyes, slightly, she noticed the dimming light out the window. Maker, they must have slept through most of the day. She rolled over to her other side, spotting a fully dressed Fenris leaning on the hearth. Her stomach dropped in warning, as the air of the room changed.

Mustering her shield of humor, she leaned casually onto her elbow, "Was it that bad?"

He jerked his head towards her, startled that she was awake, "No, I'm sorry, it's not… it was fine."

Her heart joined her stomach before he continued, "No. That is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed."

The statement was exactly what she would have hoped to hear, but something was wrong.

"So... you're leaving because..." she left the question open.

He turned away, "I… began to remember. My life before. Just flashes…"

Hawke rose from the bed, walking over to him.

"Your life before? What do you mean?"

She felt a blush rising up her chest and neck as his gaze lingered over her nude form. He turned away before speaking, "I've never remembered anything from before the ritual. But there were… faces. Words. For just a moment I could recall all of it. And then it slipped away." He hit his gauntleted fist on the stone fireplace.

She touched his arm, "Don't you want to get your memories back?"

He shied away from her, "Perhaps you don't realize how upsetting this is. I've never remembered anything, and to have it all come back in a rush, only to lose it… I can't..." his voice broke slightly. "It's too much. This is too fast. I cannot… do this." He refused to meet her eyes.

Hawke's brow furrowed, "Can't do what?"

He turned around to face her, "This." He gestured between them, "I... there is too much I don't understand. Too much at stake."

"So, that's it? It isn't you, its me?" Hawke was embarrassed, angry, and upset. She was everything spilling over and once. She desperately tried to conceal her wounded pride, self-consciously grabbing a robe to wrap around her exposed form. For the first time in years, she had finally felt complete, content, and now it was gone.

"Hawke, I'm... sorry."

She turned away from him, pacing to the window at the other end of the room, "Get out."

There was a moment of stillness before she heard him walk towards the door. He paused again when he reached it, but she refused to face him. Uncomfortable knots were growing in her stomach, and her throat constricted painfully as she used all of her energy not to scream. He finally left the room.

She waited completely motionless until she heard the front door to the estate creaking shut. As soon as she was sure he was gone, she strode over to her desk, using it as support while her legs threatened to collapse beneath her. All of the emotions she had been holding back consumed her at once. She felt used, and furious that she had allowed him to make her feel that way. She felt like an idiot. Letting out a bitter cry, she swiped the books and vellum from her desk and onto the floor, tears stinging her eyes.

.


.

Fenris waited until he slammed the door of his mansion before falling back against it. He glanced down at his arm and the red ribbon he had taken from her dagger. He shouldn't have taken it, he didn't deserve it, but he didn't care. He could still smell her on his skin, still taste her on his tongue. His body ached with want. Being with Hawke had been indescribable, but what he had said was true. These new memories haunted him, there was so much he didn't know, so much he couldn't control, and he was a danger to her until he did.

He gently touched the fabric. The image of Hawke clutching herself and standing alone in her room flashed through his mind. He stood up, shaking his head. Flashes of Denarius and a woman with red hair rushed through his memory in quick succession, too fast to catch. He let out a yell of frustration, swinging his fist around and making contact with a nearby shelf. The rotted wood creaked and collapsed, sending up a cloud of dust.

His rampage continued throughout the mansion, until, bloodied and covered in dirt, he came to a stop in his room.

Breathing heavily, he inspected the devastation that surrounded him. A large, worn tome lay towards the back of the room. He circled it cautiously, before crouching down in front of it. He couldn't bring himself to touch the tattered pages, knowing exactly what it would be.

He finally flipped it over: The Book of Shartan.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest. He had been a fool to think he could have Hawke, and an even larger one to have let her go. He was broken, and lost; Hawke deserved more. She deserved everything that Fenris might never be able to give her.

"I'm… gonna go out on a limb and guess you forgot about Wicked Grace tonight?" Fenris stood quickly, startled by the interruption. He turned to face a very confused looking Varric.

He didn't respond, instead starring back down at the book still on the ground.

"Alright, well I'm just going to…" Varric began backing from the room, only to run into Donnic.

"Maker, were you attacked?" Aveline's husband steadied the dwarf, looking around the room.

"No." Fenris offered nothing further.

"Ah, well then." Donnic shuffled around awkwardly, exchanging confused glances with Varric.

"I, uh… I brought whiskey…" Varric held up a large, amber bottle.

After a long pause of silence, Fenris moved to the overturned table. Setting it upright, he sat himself down in a chair. For what might be the first time in his life, he didn't want to be alone. Unfortunately, the one person he longed to be with was someone who might never wish to see him again. Varric and Donnic strode forward cautiously, joining him around the table.

Varric pulled a deck of cards from his vest, and began shuffling. "Alright gentlemen, first bet starts at a sovereign."

.


awwww shit. That got real. What will happen next?

So, I like responding to reviews here because it seems more efficient than sending a private message to everyone individually, but if there is a better way to do this, or you'd prefer no response/a pm, let me know!

eriaaile- welcome! Thank you for reading : ) I'm really happy you're enjoying it and I hope you continue to! Not that I'm biased, but I think I like my Carver a bit more than the bioware version ; ) He had all of the same elements, but its a lot harder to keep the game Carver on your side, he's pretty bitter. I still really enjoy the dynamic he brings though. Bethany is wonderful, but I think losing such a sweet, gentle character and keeping a sibling rivalry adds another layer to the story. I'm glad you liked Hawke's gift to Isabela as well, she's a clever woman that knows the way to that pirate's heart!

Dani.777- no chapter is ever complete without one of your reviews, thank you : ) I hope you don't hate me too much for how this chapter ended!

10- Thank you so much for reading!

RBurger- Muchos gracias! I'm glad you like my original stuff. Since it's my first story, I figured it would be better for me to have some stuff to work off of, but we're definitely about to venture into a much more AU plot line : )

bottlecap72- Thank you for following! I hope you keep enjoying it!