A/N- 7/19/12: I forgot to put my usual Author's Note when I posted this chapter, so I'm adding it now. Just wanted to make sure that I thank everyone who has been reading this story and has been sticking with it , despite the infrequent posting of new chapters. What can I say, Real Life has a way of getting in the way of my writing (SO very irritating!).

Thanks to my new, wonderful Beta Readers ( and to my good friend who has been with me from the begining) who are determined to make me work harder and rid me off all my bad writing habits- you are all the best!

And as always... thanks to my "Faithful Few" who never fail to comment and review, and thanks to BioWare for letting me play around with their story and characters. Also, a special thanks to David Gaider who was gracious enough to answer my question about clocks and telling time in Thedas.

Chapter Twenty-one

Fenris sat in front of the hearth in one of the two ornately carved high-backed chairs that he had, together with a small square table of highly burnished dark wood, purchased not too long ago as a gift for Hawke. If someone had told him a few years ago, he would someday be purchasing gifts for a woman-a woman that was a mage, no less-he would have scoffed and thought them completely addled in the brain.

He had carried the chair across the room and set it down a few feet from the fireplace, positioning it at angle so that he would have clear view of Hawke as she slept. Staring morosely into the hissing fire, long legs stretched out before him, Fenris' thoughts were dark and troubled as he mulled over everything that Hawke had relayed to him about her dream… her vision. It had taken every ounce of his self-control to stay passive and silent throughout her narration. His jaw was still aching from the way he had clenched his teeth to keep from letting loose an angry barrage of Tevinter curses when she had related Anders' portion to him.

His bitter hatred of the mage was visceral. It had become a living, breathing thing that permeated his very being. His animosity towards Anders was so intense… so thick, it left an unpalatable taste in his mouth. The mage was dangerous and unstable- an abomination, as far as the elf was concerned- and Fenris was not about to allow Anders' actions to bring harm to Hawke, nor to his unborn child. He would do anything to protect Hawke, to protect his own, even if it meant killing Anders.

Fenris clenched a fist and muttered a Tevinter curse under his breath, as the anger built in him again. He now knew why Hawke had not confided in him at the outset about her vision…why she had spent the last few sleepless nights alone with her fears. He had watched the play of the strong emotions that moved across her face when she, with evident reluctance, had finally recounted the words Anders had voiced in her dream. He had seen how she refused to meet his eyes and it was then that he had known the truth of the matter. Fenris briefly closed his eyes against the renewed hurt and a muscle in his cheek twitched as he gritted his teeth.

The truth was simple; Hawke had not told him because she was protecting the mage…her precious Anders. Moreover, if he had not pressed her, had given her no choice but to tell him, she would have never had told him at all.

Leaning back into his chair, Fenris ran a hand through his white locks in agitation, pushing his long bangs further to one side. The light cast from the fire, gave his green eyes an almost unnatural glow as he narrowed them in pensive thought. A soft sigh escaped Hawke's lips, drawing his immediate attention to her as she moved restlessly in her sleep. Her hand move to cup itself below the roundness of her belly, and he wondered if the child's movements in her womb were intruding on her slumber.

His expression softened as he thought of the impending birth of his child. Other than his freedom from Danarius, he had never wanted anything more in his life than to become a father. He gazed at Hawke's sleeping form again and gave a rueful smile. Well, almost anything else. The need to make Hawke his lover and companion had at times overshadowed all other such wants and desires in his life.

He had given this woman, this mage, his heart…his body… his trust; three things that he had vowed to give to no worker of magic. Yet here he was- willingly bound to the beautiful and headstrong mage that was sleeping, peacefully now, in the bed before him. "The Maker has an ironic and cruel sense of humor," he murmured aloud with more than a trace of bitterness, "that I would love a mage who stands for some of the very acts and ideals that I abhor most in this life." He gave his head a rueful shake when he realized that he was talking to himself, something that he had never done until he got involved with this exasperating woman.

Fenris' eyes narrowed again as he studied Hawke while she slept. When he had handed her his heart, he had given her the power to hurt him in a way that none other ever had. He had been hurt in an unimaginable number of ways while Danarius' slave, yet even the deceased magister had not held the kind of power over him that Hawke did. Love and desire in equal parts… the woman has bewitched me and I have become her willing slave. Fenris shook his head and thought himself a fool for falling in love with Hawke, for falling in love with a mage, when there was such a fundamental difference in the way that each of them viewed the use of magic. Yet he could not imagine his life without her.

However, her close relationship with Anders was an ever present reminder that there was a part of her that he would never understand, nor be comfortable with… would never be able to truly accept. "Magic… I have escaped Tevinter and the magisters, only now to be surrounded by abominations and blood mages, some whom you have gladly befriended," he said softly to Hawke, knowing she was unable to hear him in her repose. He had been against her friendship with Anders and Merrill, but she had made it clear that she would not forsake them, despite his adamant and ongoing vocal objections of the two mages' involvement with her. Yet Fenris continued to follow her alongside the spirit-possessed healer and the blood mage, helping her with pursuits that were often contrary to his own beliefs and sometimes against his better judgment.

Fenris leaned his head back against the chair, turning it slightly to the left, and gazed into the fireplace. Bright yellow and white flames moved and danced, casting flickering shadows across his taut body. Despite the soothing heat radiating from the fire, he was unable to relax the tenseness in his muscles and limbs, nor calm his dark, chaotic thoughts. The muscles of his right forearm flexed as he fisted his hand, absently clenching and unclenching it now and again as it rested against the armrest of the chair.

The soft rustling of silk sheets caught his attention again, and he turned his head to look in the direction of Hawke's bed. Hawke, now awake and not finding him in bed beside her, sat up, her eyes quickly darting around the large bedchamber until she spied him sitting before the fireplace. Despite the dim lighting, he had caught the quick look of relief that had crossed her face when her gaze landed on him.

"What? You expected to wake and find me gone from your life?" he asked, not bothering to hide the irritation he felt. Her fear of finding him gone when she awoke rankled him, even though he knew why she felt as she did.

"Perhaps it is what I deserve," she replied in a quiet voice.

Surprised by her answer, Fenris raised an eyebrow at her but did not respond. He was still too angry.

"I'm sorry, Fenris."

He continued to meet her gaze as she searched his face, his expression remaining inscrutable. He saw her gaze flicker to his right hand as he clenched it into a tight fist.

Meeting his eyes again, she stated softly, "You are angry."

"Yes."

"I am sorry, Fenris."

"So you have said," he replied, not giving her an inch.

Clasping her hands in her lap, she spoke in a quiet voice that did nothing to hide her mounting irritation with him. "I don't know what else to say… to do, to make you realize just how sorry I am."

Lowering his head and closing his eyes, Fenris rubbed the center of his forehead with his fingertips. A long, drawn-out sigh escaped his lungs before he removed his hand and lifted his head to look at Hawke once more. Her clear, aquamarine eyes were still beseeching him to forgive her, and suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to put his anger behind and accept her apology, yet he could not. "Sorry is but a word, Hawke, a meaningless and empty word that changes nothing."

Hawke inhaled her breathe with a sharp hiss and narrowed her eyes at him. "If that is true, then perhaps I was too hasty in accepting your apology for abandoning me that night and," she retorted in quiet anger, "maybe accepting you back in my life was a mistake as, by your own admission, the word sorry is so empty and meaningless." She looked at him pointedly and said, "And I do believe you used the word sorry, quite repeatedly during that particular apology to me."

"Sorry, only means something if the person's behavior changes. I have proved that I meant my apology, many times over, Hawke", he replied, his glare daring her to disapprove his words. "That is the difference between my apology and the one you have given me tonight." He cringed inwardly when Hawke started yelling angry epithets at him.

"You pompous, pointed ear, son of a slave! How dare you tell me that I haven't proven my sincerity to you! You…you… blue glowing, lyrium addled, closed-minded, bigoted-against-mages, elf!"

She was so incensed that she spluttered and stammered in her words as she hurled verbal curses at him, and a few of the most colorful phrases she used sounded suspiciously like ones that he had heard Anders yell at him in the midst of one of their many heated arguments.

Fenris remained furious, yet silent, under the hurtful barrage of insensitive and often untrue descriptions of his character that Hawke verbally flung at him in her resentment. Her heated words, aimed at him like poison arrows, pierced his heart and wounded his pride with an emotional pain that felt almost physical in nature. Once again the thought, brought forcefully to his mind by the hurt of her verbal attack, entered his mind that he had been a fool to fall such hopelessly in love with a mage. Especially this mage.

But when he heard the words, "hypocritical, sanctimonious elf" and "go suck on a fireball you magic-hater" come out of her mouth, Fenris had had enough and interrupted her tirade.

"Enough woman!" he roared at her. "I will not sit here and have you fling Anders' inane words at me as if they were your own!" Leaning forward in his chair with his arms on both rests, he gripped them until his knuckles shone white. "Have you no respect for my feelings at all?" he asked her furiously. He stared at her and noticed with irritation that she did not have the Maker-given sense to look even slightly chagrined at her rather insulting behavior.

Snapping her mouth shut, her full-lips thinned into a tight line, Hawke glared at him for a moment and then turned her head away with a swishing flourish of her silky-smooth locks. Fenris could only imagine what thoughts were going through that pretty head of hers and when her lips moved with soundless words, he surreptitiously glanced about him to make certain he was not about to be skewed by a bolt of electricity or encased in a cocoon of scorching flames.

"Well?" growled Fenris. "Answer me."

Hawke turned her head back towards him. Her expression was still full of ire, yet mixed in with the anger there was more than a little shame and regret. "Normally, I would answer yes… that I do care very much about your feelings, but after everything I just said, I fear that I may not care enough." Looking away from him, she sighed heavily and rubbed her temple as her brow furrowed. After a few moments had passed, she met his steady gaze. "And to say that I am deeply sorry at this point would only result in another argument I'm sure, so I won't bother… even though I am."

Fenris stared at her for a long moment but did not say anything. She was correct, anything said now, would only lead to an argument, and he for one, was sick to death of arguing with her. Turning his head away from her direction, he stared moodily into the hearth and did his best to ignore the pain in his heart.

The night continue to wane into early morning, as each tick of the dwarven-made mantle clock marked the passing of each uncomfortable moment the two of them spent in angry silence. From time to time, Hawke would dare a glance at Fenris, as if she was trying to decide whether to say something further, but would quickly turn her head away again when met with his scowling visage. After several rounds of this infuriating behavior, Fenris finally decided to put an end to it.

"By all that is holy, Hawke…just say what is on your mind."

"I want you to promise me that you won't do anything to Anders," she said in a rapid burst of speech.

Counting silently to ten, Fenris reigned in his emotions and his expression became as hard and cold as the stone that patterned the floor of her estate. "I cannot promise you that- I will not promise you that." Rising to his feet, he drew himself to full length and stood looking at her, his green eyes darkened by the suppressed fury that almost choked him upon hearing the galling request. "Be warned, Hawke… if anything happens to you, or to our child because of Anders-directly or indirectly-I will take matters into my own hands." Her widened eyes and the slight parting of her lips as she took a quick intake of breath, left little doubt in his mind that she was well aware of the seriousness of his words and that she understood his warning.

"You would…you would actually hurt him?"

"Yes," he stated in a tone that was deceptively mild.

"But you wouldn't kill him… you can't mean that…" Her voice trailed off and she stared at him, her eyes widening even more at his daunting expression.

This time Fenris did not answer her- he did not have to. He could see that she finally understood what lengths he was prepared to go in order to keep her and their child safe. And should anyone ever cause injury to her or the child, he would visit upon them such revenge that the Maker himself- if the Maker indeed even existed- would be unable to save their body or soul.

Unable to bear the devastated expression on her face, Fenris turned away and looked out the room's window. The night's darkness was fading; morning would be upon them all too soon, and he had yet to sleep. His weary mind and body was crying out for much needed rest, yet he was hesitant to share Hawke's bed now. Her next words to him settled the issue.

"I need to be alone right now. I need you to go."

A sliver of cold fear entered his heart at her softly spoken statement …fear that she would want him gone permanently. No, I have nothing to fear. She said need, not want and there is a world of difference between those two words. That is something to hold on to at least. Fenris turned back to her and saw the pain written across her distraught face before she turned it away, and he knew that those words she had uttered had cost her dearly.

Fenris quickly dressed back into his discarded clothing and armor, and gathered his sword. With one last, lingering look at Hawke, he turned and walked towards the bedroom door, but stopped when he heard her soft voice.

"I love you, Fenris."

His back still to her, he answered, "I know…and I, you." He resumed his walk to the door, but once at the threshold, he stopped once again after opening the door. "And that is why this all hurts so much." Stepping onto the second floor landing, he closed the door behind him and then leaned back against it, his head hanging low.

Within the bedroom, he could hear not a sound: no swearing, nor yelling of curses, no sounds of shedding tears, nor sobs of grief, only a still and heavy silence.

And it was her silence that scared him most of all.