AN: Thanks again to everyone who commented. I'm sorry I couldn't reply to everyone I will try my best to reply to every comment I get this week, this past week was kind of bananas. I love you all and thank you so much for reading.

Lovelovelove

Roarkshop

The following week, Fenris bought himself a violin.

It was more that he couldn't think of an excuse not to. When he wasn't playing cards, reading with Hawke, or following her into every slaver den on the Wounded Coast, he hadn't realized how much down time he had. He still had a rather ridiculous stockpile of gold that he rarely dipped into from the Deep Roads, so he figured that if he was going to spend it on something it might as well be a violin.

It was strange to him how much he enjoyed playing. He had never really thought about it before it was just... there. It had been nothing more than a skill that had been forced upon him. Now, though, he would play for himself, finding that whatever emotion he was currently trying to deal with would spill out onto the strings. It eased the tension in his chest and lifted the weight from his shoulders. It was invigorating.

His mind would wander as the bow caressed the strings. He would think about his previous life, if he'd ever been glad to play the violin, or if the emotion just never registered; he would think of Cook and the other slaves and wonder if they still played chess during parties; he would think of Danarius and his apprentices, of their cruelty and scathing words.

Tonight, however, he thought of the fog warriors. He thought of the meals they shared and the unusual stories they'd read to him. He thought of their unyielding kindness toward him and their unwillingness to see him enslaved again. He thought of his betrayal, of the looks on their faces when the animal took hold of him. He thought of the monster inside of him and how even now he felt it lurking in the back of his mind, a shadow in his heart that he could never be free from, the stain on his soul that brought out the beast.

That tell-tale uneasiness settled on his stomach, and he knew Hawke was near. He still didn't know exactly how he knew, but still he always did. He heard a sniffling breath from outside his window, his sharp ears twitching at the sound. He had been expecting her later that evening for their usual reading lesson, but she must have heard him playing and climbed up onto his roof to listen through his window. Fenris smiled. She was crying as a result of his music. He didn't know why that was so satisfying.

He continued to play as if Hawke wasn't there, trying to keep the image of her among the dead fog warriors from his mind. He found it rather unsettling that he didn't know the answer to whether or not he would turn on Hawke the way he turned on the fog warriors. He couldn't imagine betraying her, but if Danarius demanded it, if he spoke those all-too-familiar words that haunted his nightmares, would it be Hawke's blood on his hands when he woke? The image of her lifeless, golden eyes staring up at him was what eventually forced him to stop playing.

"I can hear you crying," he said finally.

She made a small sound of surprise before he heard her scrambling around on his roof. Then her head appeared upside down in his window.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt," she said. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment as if she were weighing whether or not to speak. "You play beautifully."

He shifted and cleared his throat, moving to put the violin back in its case. "I uh... Thank you," he said, still not exactly used to receiving praise. He turned around and saw that she was still hanging in his window. "Are you going to come in? Or are we going to have our lesson on the roof?"

"Oh, right," she said, disappearing for a moment before climbing through his window with a few books under her arm. "I didn't know you had a violin of your own."

"I've had it a few weeks now," he said, taking his usual seat in the high backed chair beside the sofa. "I was surprised to find that I actually enjoyed playing at the Hanged Man, so I figured it would be a worthwhile investment."

Again she chewed on her lip before she spoke, and he realized she still thought she needed to tread carefully when speaking to him about certain things. "Did you enjoy playing back in the Imperium?" she asked.

"I... do not know, honestly," he said, shifting to lean his chin on his hand as he looked into the fire. "It was something I simply had to do. I don't... remember feeling one way or another about it."

She nodded and took the seat beside him, shuffling the books in her lap. "I'm glad you enjoy playing," she said. "Because I very much enjoy listening to you."

"If that is the case, then I am glad I learned."

That made her smile as she handed him a book and he brought it into his lap. The Twisting Fade, the book was called. Regardless that he was perfectly capable of continuing his reading on his own now, that never seemed to dissuade Hawke. She still showed up for his lessons: every week, twice a week. He still stumbled over words and would need her to say it for him or tell him what the word meant if he'd never heard it before, but he read smoothly for the most part, and it wasn't unusual for Hawke to doze off on his couch while he read to her. Even when he was sure she was asleep, when he stopped reading for any period of time, she would wake and ask him why he stopped.

This particular evening, though, she was wide awake. He imagined it had something to do with her not being exhausted from a mission or one of the events her mother usually forced her to attend. Whatever the reason, she was much more awake than usual. She crossed her arms over the arm of the sofa and leaned her chin on them as she watched him read.

"You're really very smart, Fenris," she said once he'd paused at the end of a chapter.

"I... beg your pardon?" he asked, not because he hadn't heard her, but because he didn't understand.

"You're very intelligent," she said with a small shrug. "You've come so far in the month or two I've been teaching you and now you don't even need me."

He swallowed and felt like his face was growing warm. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, turning to the next page as a distraction.

She smiled and sat up. "I should get going," she said. "I don't want to be gone long enough to give Anders his opening."

Fenris closed the book, keeping his finger between the pages as he tilted his head to the side. "His opening for what?"

"Apparently he's been plotting his revenge for the little prank Izzy and I played on him. He put talcum powder in her clothes and then covered her in flour."

"Children," he said, leaning his head on his fingers, "the lot of you."

"We can't all be angry, brooding swordsmen."

"For the last time, I do not brood."

"Maker, it's sweltering out here," Hawke said softly as she looked through the clothes of one of the dead raiders.

"You would think you would be used to that by now," Fenris said as he was crouched down next to her.

"I am going to reek to high heaven when I get home," she said. "I am sweating a ridiculous amount. Isabela stepping foot in the chantry, sweating."

Fenris laughed at that as he looked up to see Varric and Anders making their way back over from where they had been addressing the guards.

"They're amazed we managed to take them all out without their help," Varric said.

"I knew we could," Hawke said with a shrug. "As soon as she told us to watch out for traps, I knew it would be an easy enough fight."

"How did you even manage to disarm all the traps before they saw you?" Anders asked. "I mean, I know better than to be surprised when you manage to sneak around successfully, but we're in broad daylight."

"Broad, unyielding, daylight," Hawke said, confident that they were alone on the cliff before taking down her hood and wiping her brow of sweat.

"I don't know how you do it," Varric said, wiping his neck. "It's hotter than a hooker's lady garden out here."

"Charming," Hawke drawled.

A slow, almost menacing grin spread across Anders face and Hawke arched an eyebrow as she pulled her mask down.

"What's got you grinning like a fox?" she asked.

"Well, it is rather hot out here," he said slowly.

"Your point?"

"And if I recall, I owe you a revenge dunk," he said.

She turned to see that she had been standing near the cliff's edge and she turned around, holding her hands up as if to say wait, but she only managed to catch a glimpse of Anders putting two fingers to his forehead before he mind-blasted her off the cliff, sending her careening end over end down into the crashing waves. She barely managed to hear Fenris calling after her; she didn't even have the presence of mind to scream. She just fell, knowing that the water was coming, ready to swallow her up.

She had prepared for this contingency a thousand times. If ever thrown into deep water, unlatch all extraneous weight, stay calm, turn onto your back and hold a deep breath. She had run it over and over in her mind so many times she had long since memorized it, but in those precious few moments before she hit the water it was all just nonsense. She froze, her muscles going tense and rigid as she tumbled into the water feet first and sank like a stone.

When her feet touched the bottom she managed to have enough self-preservation instincts to push herself up and when she finally breeched the water's surface, she scrambled and thrashed as she tried to stay above the water. Somewhere in her mind she knew that it was only a matter of time before the saltwater filled her lungs, and she tried to call out for help, but it was swallowed up by the waves.

The last thing she remembered was wondering whether or not Fenris would mourn her.

"Hawke!" Fenris called after her, looking over the cliff just in time to see where she crashed into the water. "Idiot!" he sneered as he turned around and shook free of his gauntlets. He started to pull his chest piece off — not bothering to unbuckle it and instead opting to just pull it over his head — as he backed away from the cliff so he could get a good running start.

"Calm down, Fenris," Anders was saying. "I made sure she cleared the rocks she just-"

"Fool mage," he barked, griping the front of Anders' robe and pushing him out of the way. "She cannot swim!" With that, he pushed off the rocks and sprinted as fast as he could before punching his toes into the cliff's edge and diving down into the black water.

Hawke had flown much farther than Fenris managed to get on his own, and he managed to catch a glimpse of her floundering desperately before she went under. He made his way toward her as fast as he could possibly go, swimming against the current of the ocean and looking for a sign of her. He tried desperately to see down into the depths of the water, diving under it and ignoring how the salt of the ocean stung his eyes as he tried to find her.

This wasn't how it would end for her. After all they had seen? All they had been through? For her to drown because of a stupid prank at the hands of someone she called a friend? No. That wasn't how her life ended. That wasn't how the Hawk went down. He wouldn't allow it.

In the end, it was the one quirk of color, the red sash she wore around her waist, that revealed her to him, and Fenris dove down as far as he could go, managing to snatch the back of her vest and pull her up into the open air.

He gasped as he broke the surface of the water, and he was painfully aware of the fact that she didn't.

"No," he said, turning her toward him and shaking her while he tried to stay afloat. "Hawke!"

She didn't move and he could tell she wasn't breathing. He felt an unusual stirring of emotions well up in him and he bit it all down, unable to spare the time to sort them out. His mind raced for a solution, some kind of training he'd received to help her. He started swimming to shore, pulling Hawke along with him, keeping her tight against his chest as he kicked and pulled his way through the water, the current helping to push him closer and closer to the surf. He had to think of something. He had to save her.

Anders sprinted onto the sand and waved one of his hands, carving a path through the water, parting it where Fenris was wading through it so he could run. He immediately swept her up in his arms and ran along the rocks that had been concealed by the water.

"She's not breathing," Fenris said, carrying her onto the shore and relinquishing her to Anders. He stood back, holding himself up on the rocks as he watched.

Varric finally managed to catch up with them, immediately dropping onto his knees beside Hawke as Anders moved his hands over her.

"What are you waiting for?" Fenris sneered, but all he received in reply was tense silence. Fenris could hear his heart pounding in his ears, his mind raced. What would he do? She couldn't die. Not now. Not like this. She was his friend. She was going to help him fight Danarius, she never judged him and never pitied him and, damn him, she could not die.

Anders tilted Hawke's chin back and moved his hand from her abdomen, up her chest, and along the length of her throat, his hand glowing a faint white light against her clothes and skin. Finally Hawke lurched, coughing and hacking the water out of her lungs.

The wave of relief that crashed over Fenris hit him so hard that he had to catch himself on a rock so he didn't drop to his knees. All at once, the emotions Fenris had been battling to keep down lurched into his throat, swelled in his chest, and muddied his mind.

Never mind that his instinct to protect Hawke had become so powerful that he hadn't given a second thought to diving off a cliff into the ocean. Never mind that he'd abandoned his armor and sword, and hadn't even looked to make sure he could jump the distance before throwing himself into the sea after her. What really shook him was the fear as he watched her sink below the surface, as he desperately tried to find her in the black water, as he pulled her into the air and didn't hear her gasp for breath.

Hawke was still coughing when Fenris realized he was shaking, and he knew it wasn't from the frigid water. It was adrenaline. It was panic. It was an overwhelming fear. He ran a shivering hand over his face and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. He watched Anders hold her shoulders while she freed her lungs of water, the emotions he didn't understand all yielded to the one he was all too familiar with: Rage.

"So, no more swimming," Varric said, propping Hawke up on his lap as she continued to cough and shake. "Maker, Hawke, you scared me."

"I'm so sorry," Anders said, who was still kneeling next to her, rubbing her back. "I had no idea, Hawke, I..."

"It... it's alright," she said through chattering teeth. "You couldn't have known."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "I would never have—Agh."

Fenris grabbed the mage by the back of his robe and threw him into the mountainside so hard he had the wind knocked out of him. Even before Anders could realize what had happened, Fenris was on him again, gripping the front of his robe and lifting him off the ground to slam him back into the rocks.

"Do you see?" Fenris sneered up at him. "Do you see now what your ignorance costs? Do you see now how dangerous you are?"

"L-let me go!"

"Fenris," Hawke said, sitting up. "It was an accident!"

"It is always an accident!" Fenris growled. "It is always the poor persecuted mage who justifies his ignorance with kindness. It is always those who claim wisdom who wreak havoc. It is not the road to the heavens that is paved with good intentions, Mage."

"Fenris," Hawke said gently. "Calm down."

"Calm down?" he repeated, unbelieving, letting Anders fall back into the sand as he wheeled around. "He nearly killed you."

"But he didn't, thanks to you," Hawke said. "Everything is fine."

"Everything is not fine!" he growled. "How long will you allow him loose upon the world? What step is a step too far for you, Hawke? How much control must he lose before you take action? Who must he betray before you see that he is poison?"

"Fenris..."

"What are you talking about?" Anders asked as he stood. "This has nothing to do with my control, and everything with my not knowing Hawke couldn't swim! I am perfectly in control, don't bring Justice into this!"

"Your ignorance will be your undoing, abomination!" Fenris roared at him. He hadn't even noticed that his lyrium had started glowing until he saw the light of it on the mage's skin. "I have been perfectly content to sit back and watch you spiral further into your own madness, but mark my words: I will end you before I allow you to hurt the things I care about!"

He hadn't even known he was going to say the words, they just flew out of his mouth unbidden. His lyrium faded, his ears went back, and his expression dropped as he realized what he'd said. It was only a moment before the sneer was back on his face and he pushed Anders back against the wall. He didn't say anything else and he didn't stay to help Hawke get home; he knew very well that Varric and Anders would see to that. He walked away, heading back to the mansion soaked to the bone.

As he trudged back to Hightown, glaring at anyone who might look twice at him, he realized it wasn't the mage he had been angry at, not really. He wasn't about to admit that Anders hadn't deserved getting thrown into a wall, but he was willing to admit to himself that he'd overreacted.

He hadn't known how to process it, the fear and sadness that had rampaged through his chest. One moment he was carrying her to the shore trying to think of a plan of action, and the next he was watching Anders move his hands over her lifeless form. Somewhere in between, the emotion had taken hold of him and rendered him into a shivering child.

I will end you before I allow you to hurt the things I care about.

He wasn't used to fearing for others. The only deaths that he had mourned were those of the fog warriors, and even then it was more guilt than sorrow. He had no idea how to process the feeling, had no idea what he had been supposed to do with it, so he had retreated into the comfort of his anger. It was easier to default in his rage rather than entertain the fact that Hawke had almost died in his arms.

The thought stopped him cold, hand on the door knob to his mansion.

He gripped at his tunic like it was going to combat the horrid ache that squeezed around his heart. If the price of friendship was this intolerable feeling upon their inevitable separation, Fenris wondered if it was worth it at all.

Sometimes I wonder if it's better to sacrifice feeling the joy in order to forfeit the pain of the loss.

It had been years since she said that to him, the night Bethany was taken. Yet the words rang through his head now like she had only just spoken them, and they had never held so much weight.

What a mess she was.

Hawke sat on the floor, leaning against her cushioned chair as she sat in front of the fire. She settled into the comfortable routine of cleaning all her various daggers and knives. The salt water would wreak havoc on them if she didn't, and having her hands busy with the familiar habit allowed her mind to wander.

She had almost died that day. Literally. No dramatics, no theatrics, she had almost drowned. The one death she feared more than any other had nearly become a reality not even eight hours ago.

... And yet, she couldn't stop smiling.

I will end you before I allow you to hurt the things I care about.

He had been facing Anders, so Hawke had no idea what Fenris looked like when he'd said it, but she imagined he was filled with righteous fury on her behalf. After the initial shock had eased away, and after a nice, warm bath — supervised by her mother — Hawke was unusually pleased for having almost drowned.

Fenris cared about her. So much, in fact, that he had exploded and completely overreacted to the situation. True, she had almost died, but Anders had only been trying to prank her. Fenris hadn't needed the ten minute diatribe about abominations. Was it pathetic that she was incredibly flattered?

She sighed and let her head fall back against the chair.

Yes. Yes, it was pathetic.

Had she become so enamored with the elf that the simple fact that he cared whether or not she died was considered a compliment? She supposed being cared about by someone who routinely hated everyone was, indeed, a compliment, but surely there was no reason for her to be blushing like a school girl. Alone. In her room.

The knock on her bedroom door had been so unexpected it had actually made her jump.

"Um, come in," she called.

"Messere," came Bodhan's voice as he cracked the door open, "there's a gentleman here to see you."

She looked out her window to confirm that it was quite late before returning her attention to the dwarf in her doorway. Anders with more apologies, probably.

"Send him up, Bodhan."

"At once, my lady."

She continued to clean her dagger, finding she was rather glad for the distraction Anders would present. She had been thinking of Fenris non-stop since she'd gotten home. In fact, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, she had been thinking about him ever since she'd hit the water.

Anara, my dear, she thought with a long sigh. You have certainly gotten yourself into a mess.

Fenris had known Hawke was awake when he'd seen the light burning in her window, but he wouldn't have blamed her if she hadn't wanted company. When the dwarf told him to head up to her room, he had to swallow down the bunch of nerves that riled in his stomach. He got to the top of the stairs and reached for her door handle, but decided against it and knocked twice softly on the wood.

"Come in," she called from inside.

He cleared his throat and pushed the door open slowly, peering inside and spotting her where she sat in front of the fireplace cleaning her daggers.

"Hawke?" he asked as he shut the door behind him.

She obviously hadn't been expecting it to be him, because the sound of his voice made her head snap up in his direction and her hair fanned out around her as her head turned.

Her hair was down. He'd never seen her with her hair down.

"Fenris," she said, no small amount of surprise in her voice. "Come in, I uh..." she moved as if she were going to rise to her feet but he interrupted her.

"Please, do not... do not get up," he said, putting a hand out. "I'm interrupting. Do not trouble yourself."

She settled back down and smiled at him before motioning a hand to the chair opposite the one she was leaning on. "Then sit, unless you only came for your armor."

"My armor?" It wasn't until that very moment that he remembered he'd left it on the Wounded Coast with his sword.

"Yes, it's just there by the door," she said pointing to it.

He turned and saw a closed chest by her bedroom door with his sword leaning against the wall behind it.

"I cleaned it for you," she said with a small shrug before returning to what she was doing. "I figured it was the least I could do. I didn't want it to rust because of the saltwater in the air."

"I... thank you," he said, clearing his throat and turning back to her. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he made his way toward the chair.

"Fantastic, considering the circumstances," she said, pausing in her cleaning to look up at him, letting the dagger drop into her lap. "Thank you, again. For saving me."

"You shouldn't have needed saving," he said before he could think better of it.

"True," she said with a small laugh. "I really should be able to swim."

"No," Fenris said decisively. "I meant that the abomination should never have blasted you off a cliff in the first place. You do not throw someone into the water without knowing for a fact if they can swim."

"Just like you don't give someone a book without knowing if they can read?" she asked.

"That is completely different," he defended. "Books are not deadly."

"I could very easily kill a man with a book if I had to."

He smiled at that and gave her a single nod. "You have me there." He finally sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees as he watched her hands clean her daggers. "I came to erm... apologize."

Her eyebrows knitted together and her head tilted to the side. "You're apologizing? What for?"

"For... overreacting earlier."

"Don't apologize to me. It's Anders you—"

"Anders deserved everything he got," Fenris interrupted. "I am apologizing for... snapping at you like I did. You, of all people, did not deserve my anger. I was just... I was so..."

"It's intolerable isn't it?" she asked with an understanding smile. "Caring for others."

"Maker, yes," he groaned, putting his head in his hand. "Is it always like this?"

"Afraid so," she said with a dainty shrug. "Welcome to friendship. Only took you four years but you made it. How do you feel?"

"Exhausted," he said, smiling a little.

She laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear, nodding her agreement as she returned to cleaning her weapons. He tilted his head, observing how the jagged points of her hair touched her shoulders. It reflected the glow of the fire, making it look almost silken. He fought the urge to reach out and test his theory.

"What?" she asked when she realized he'd been staring at her.

"I've... never seen you with your hair down," he said, smiling a little despite himself.

"Really?" Her hand reached up like a reflex, taking a lock of her hair between her fingers. "Fenris we've known each other almost five years, I'm sure you're mistaken."

"I think I would remember," he said, feeling the smile on his face broaden. "I rather like it. You don't look quite so..."

"Mannish?" she offered.

"I was going to say menacing," he clarified. "I've never thought you looked particularly mannish."

"Oh?" she asked, cocking a disbelieving eyebrow. "What about when you thought I was a man?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Even then I had never thought you particularly mannish. I'll admit to not thinking you were particularly feminine either, but I had always maintained that under your layers you would have been a rather effeminate lad."

"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or be offended on behalf of my presumed masculinity."

"You know very well I have never intentionally paid you a compliment."

"Ah, yes. Always the gentleman." She laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear again, even though it hadn't come loose from the last time she'd done it. She cleared her throat like she was contemplating her next words before looking back up at him. "It occurs to me... that this might not have happened at all had I been able to swim."

Fenris was silent for a bit, choosing his words very carefully. "That is... a possibility."

She dragged her bottom lip through her teeth. "Do you honestly think you can teach me?"

"I do," he said immediately. "But you have to be willing to learn."

"Do you think you're up to the challenge? I might prove even more stubborn and intolerable than you."

"While I find that hard to believe, you have yet to offer me a challenge that I failed to rise to," he said, unable to fight the smile tugging at his lips. If she was seriously considering allowing him to teach her, that was progress in his mind.

She exhaled a forceful breath and looked back into the fire. "I'm... not sure that I'll even be able to get into the water," she said softly. "I will undoubtedly need a rather large amount of patience." She looked over at him briefly. "A virtue you are not exactly known for possessing."

"Fair enough," he said.

"But," she continued, returning to cleaning her knife, perhaps as a distraction. "I suppose if you are still willing to teach me after today, it would be foolish of me not to at least attempt to learn."

"If anything, today has made me more willing to teach you," he said as he stood. "Perhaps we will remove one of the days we use for reading and repurpose it for swimming."

She laughed but it was a timid, nervous sound. "Very well," she said before looking up at him. "If that is your wish."

"It is," he said with a nod, "and I am looking forward to it."