Fenris woke late, head throbbing from another night spent at the Hanged Man, playing cards with Varric until the wee hours of the morning. He washed, dressed, and walked downstairs to find Hawke sitting in one of his cushioned red chairs, reading.
"Good morning," she said, grinning.
"Morning, Hawke," he said. He was beginning to get used to her constant intrusions. At least she'd had the decency not to wake him.
She jumped out of her chair. "I've got a present for you!" she said. She sounded so excited Fenris couldn't help but smile a little. She dug around in the battered satchel at her feet and produced a large book.
He stared at it. It was thick and heavy, bound in rich leather, the indecipherable (to him) markings on the cover sparkling gold. It looked valuable.
"A book?" he said.
"I thought you might like it," she replied. "It's about Shartan. You know, the elf that freed the slaves." She looked at him and bit her lip, anxiety in her eyes. She thought he didn't like it.
"It's a lovely gesture," he said, hefting the tome in his hand, "but slaves are not permitted to read. I never learned."
"Oh," she said, softly. Then she looked up at him, slowly. "I could teach you, if you'd like," she said.
He was taken aback. To learn to read, to make sense of signs and books and letters…To take another step away from the slave and towards the free man he hoped to be…
"I…would like that," he said, and she grinned at him again. Her enthusiasm was baffling, but enjoyable.
"I'll get us some books," she said. "This one is way too dense to start with."
He nodded.
"But not right now," she said. "Anders needs my help with something."
"With what?" said Fenris, narrowing his eyes, suddenly suspicious.
"I guess there's this templar who wants to make every mage in the Marches Tranquil," she said. "So, you can guess what we need to do."
"Are you sure of this? Or is it a product of the mage's fevered imagination?" said Fenris.
"He might exaggerate, but he wouldn't make this up," said Hawke. "Besides, this templar is bad news. I don't know if you ever listen to the mages talk when we're in the Gallows, but I do. Ser Alrik likes to…abuse his power. Crazy plan or no, he deserves to be put down."
Fenris nodded. "It is a dangerous endeavor, slaying a templar," he said.
"I'll be careful," she replied.
"I will go with you," he said, earning himself another bright smile.
"I didn't want to ask," she said, "I know how you feel about templars, mages, and Anders. But I would feel safer if you were there."
The two headed down to Darktown, where Anders and Merrill were waiting for them at the clinic. Anders led them through dirty, winding passages that sloped downward until they were beneath Darktown, heading for the Gallows.
On the way they met a large, heavily armed band of lyrium smugglers, who, unfortunately, had neither lyrium nor much in the way of coin on their bodies.
"They must not have been very good smugglers," said Hawke, frowning over a corpse. "This one had ten silver. That's like a tiny pinch of lyrium!"
"We should keep moving," said Anders.
Voices drifted from down the dark passageway, and Hawke motioned for silence. They crept closer to the noises and peered in a nearby doorway to see a templar talking to a young mage.
"What are you doing here?" said the Templar. The mage cowered before him.
"That's him, that's Ser Alrik," said Anders.
"I swear, I was just trying to see my mama," said the girl. "I don't know what happened to her. Please, please don't make me Tranquil."
"I don't know," said the templar, grinning. "If you're Tranquil, you'll do whatever I say, no question." He took a step towards the girl, reached a hand towards her.
Anders was glowing blue, holding his head in his hands, murmuring, and Fenris realized he must be battling the spirit within.
Hawke stepped forward, into the light.
"Don't you touch her," she said to the templar.
Ser Alrik just laughed. "I've always wanted to try two women at the same time," he said. The mage let out a soft whimper and Hawke drew her blades.
"Let's play," she said. Behind her a light shone brilliant blue.
"You'll never touch another mage!" yelled Anders, glowing, illuminating the entire room. He rushed forward with his staff drawn, conjuring up a large ball of stone. The templar tried to dispel the spell, but Justice's presence was too powerful, giving Anders the strength and energy to resist. The stone hit him square in the chest, knocking him backwards and denting his armor.
Anders stepped forward, hands laced with blue light reaching out and twisting the templar's thick neck.
Then he turned towards the girl.
"Never again," he bellowed, in Justice's deep voice.
"Get away from me, demon," said the girl, scooting backwards.
"Are you like all the others, that would brand me demon?" said Anders.
Hawke stepped forward again, sensing danger. She put a hand on Anders's shoulder.
"Anders," she said, "the girl is a mage. We saved her from being made Tranquil."
"She is a creature of the Templars," said Anders. "I can feel their taint on her."
"This girl is who you're fighting to save," said Hawke. "If you hurt her, you are no better than they are."
Anders raised his arm, a strange, smoky spell gathering. Then suddenly, with a flash of light, the spirit was gone and the man was standing there, anguish on his face.
"I…oh Maker…I almost," he gasped, looking at the terrified girl on the ground before him. He turned and ran.
"Anders," said Hawke, taking a few steps after him. "Wait!" But the mage had already vanished into the darkness.
"What was that…thing?" said the girl, standing up and brushing herself off. "Was he a demon?"
"No," said Hawke, offering the girl a steadying hand, "just a troubled man."
Fenris frowned. He had to disagree with Hawke on this one. His instincts told him Anders was dangerous, and out of control. Hawke's blindness would put her in danger, someday.
They headed back to Darktown. Merrill took off for the Alienage, murmuring something about a mirror and a book. Fenris did not pay much attention. He followed Hawke back to Anders's clinic, where the mage was waiting, dark circles under his eyes.
"I'm going to talk to Anders for a bit," Hawke said, turning to him. He watched her face. She looked…sad. "I'll come by later with some books."
Fenris glared at the mage. "No," he said. "I'm not leaving you alone with him. He's dangerous." Last time he'd left Hawke alone, she'd gotten herself poisoned. He was not about to let that happen again.
Anders hung his head. "He has a point, Hawke," said the mage. "I am losing control. Slipping. You saw what I almost did to that girl…if you hadn't been there…"
"You have to hold on, Anders," she said, taking a step closer to him. She put a hand on his shoulder. "I won't let you lose yourself. Not to Justice, not to the Templars, not to your cause."
Anders raised his eyes to look at her, a burning intensity in his gaze. "I don't know what I would do without you, Hawke," he said.
"I'm always here for you," she said. "You know that."
He smiled, just a ghost on his lips. "I do."
"I just need a small favor," she said, her voice soft. "I've been having trouble sleeping. Do you have anything that could help me?"
Anders nodded. He dug around in his desk and pulled out a small vial of dark, foul looking liquid.
"Mix this into a glass of water just before bed, and you should sleep soundly," he said.
"Good," she said, smiling at him. "Make sure you do that then. You haven't been sleeping enough, I can see it in your face."
Fenris couldn't help the cold jealousy that gripped his chest whenever she smiled. She was so kind to Anders, so gentle. He had been foolish to think her kindness and sweet touches were reserved for him alone.
He followed her out of Darktown, silent, brooding.
"What is it?" she said, turning to him as they walked towards Hightown. "You look so unhappy."
"Nothing," he said. He turned his face away from her scrutiny and tried not to think about her hand on Anders's shoulder, or the smoldering look the apostate had given her.
The bastard had no right to look at Hawke that way…
"You think I am being stupid about Anders," she said. "You think he's dangerous and a threat to me."
Fenris nodded. "He is dangerous, and rapidly losing control of himself," he said.
"I know," said Hawke, "but beneath that, he's a good man."
A good man…Fenris scowled, anger suddenly bubbling through him. A good man…would she say the same of him?
Was she looking to replace what she had lost when he crept out of her bedroom and ended things? Was she looking for another lover?
The thought was intolerable.
"A good man," said Fenris, "what does that mean?"
"It means he tries to do the right thing most of the time. Like all of us."
She gave him a soft smile, a smile that held sadness just behind it. "Who's to say I don't cause just as much destruction as he does, trying to do the right thing?"
It surprised him, this show of vulnerability, of weakness. It was a side of Hawke he'd never really seen before, the not-so-fearless leader. It made him ache with the desire to hold her, to whisper soft words in her hair and kiss her forehead, to comfort her and protect her. It was a strange feeling, and it replaced his anger entirely.
He let his hand brush her arm, like he had seen her do so many times, and tried to say something comforting.
"You always do the right thing, Hawke," he said, "and that's all you can do."