A/N - i hadn't realised that it'd been so long since i last updated... whoops. this chapter is slightly longer than the others have been as a way of apology, enjoy!~
Chapter Twenty One
Anders stormed back to Darktown, slamming down his staff with every step he took. Imagining Hawke with that… monster, was enough, but seeing them fuck on her balcony, hearing her emit sounds he had never heard before, not even with him…
It was enough that it stirred arousal in his crotch; even more so that he was annoyed by this fact. The idea of Hawke naked was a tantalising one, whilst Hawke being fucked by someone else was not. Hot anger and jealousy clawed up inside him, bubbling in the pit of his stomach, threatening to boil over. In his rage, his hands had begun to crackle with static electricity, jolts of lightening leaping from fingertip to fingertip. He ached to wrap his hands around Fenris's neck, to shoot violent jolts of electricity through his body, ultimately stopping his heard. The satisfaction the mage would feel… but then he pictured Hawke's face in his mind's eye, hurt and confused, then angry, and then began to realise that she could end his life much more easily than he could hers. But so could Fenris, for that fact. The elf would never allow the mage more than a two feet within his personal space. But killing the elf would only bring satisfaction for a short time until the repercussions of his brash actions then brought regret.
Anders thought he had banished all tender thoughts and feelings towards Hawke when he finally accepted that she and Fenris were to be together. Yet he could not help but recall how happy he had made her, albeit for a short time, and his own selfishness told him that he could make her happier more than the ex-slave could. But that would be unfair for her to feel obliged to do so as not to hurt his feelings, and he could not bear knowing the unhappiness that would remain alive yet hidden under a fake happy exterior.
He needed to move on. And fast.
He had calmed down and his magic receded at last. Looking down at himself with a sigh, Anders picked up his staff and left the clinic, picking up his coin purse as a last thought when he accepted the fact that the Blooming Rose was to be his final destination for the evening.
Fenris had stayed the night. After their voracious love-making session on the balcony, he and Hawke had retired soon after to bed; though not without Hawke mixing up herself warm milk and honey.
"I don't know why you enjoy drinking that," Fenris said with a shudder. He pulled the duvet up over his chest; bare, save for the white lyrium tattoos that marked the skin.
"It relaxes me," came Hawke's reply with an underlying tone of knowing superiority. "It wouldn't kill you to try new things, Fenris."
He shuddered again when she spoke his name, though in a good way this time. "I am perfectly content with wine."
"And you will damage your liver, at the rate you go at it," she snorted, sipping the sweet liquid over the lip of her mug.
"I'd like to go at you," said the elf with a low growl, his eyes clouding over, giving him a sultry, lustrous look. Instantly, Hawke felt heat pool between her legs again, but resolutely avoided his gaze and ignored the way his calloused fingertips danced their way across her bare thigh under the duvet.
"You are insatiable," she muttered whilst nonchalantly sipping her beverage.
"You cannot fool me, Hawke," said Fenris. Hot breath curled around her ear as he kissed her lobe, gently sucking on it. She stifled a moan.
"Tomorrow," she told him simply, setting her mug down on her nightstand. She nestled down into the bed to get more comfortable and winced. "I think you nearly split me in half."
"Then I will go easy on you tomorrow," he chuckled. He, too, resumed a more comfortable position, the wrapping an arm around Hawke's waist. Her warm weight next to him was oddly comforting.
"Goodnight, Fenris," she murmured, her eyes now closed.
Fenris watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, drinking in the way her lips quivered as she slept, her eyelashes fluttering as she dreamt. He could look at her forever.
The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was the way Hawke's hair curled under his hand, a content smile softly curving the corners of his mouth.
"So… does this mean we're living together, now?"
Hawke was pouring batter into a pan to make pancakes, sliding the spatula underneath it and flipping the pancake over to brown its other side.
Fenris didn't reply straight away. Instead, he sipped the hot tea Hawke had given him. It sure beat his usual morning glass of wine. "I would say so."
"Do you… I mean, would you like any help moving some stuff in?"
"I think I will leave most of my possessions at Danarius's manor, for now," said the elf nonchalantly.
"That kind of defeats the whole object of us, you know, 'living together'."
Though Hawke had her back to him, he didn't miss the light tone she forced on her statement, nor the way her shoulders stiffened and hunched as she slid pancakes onto plates.
"All I meant was," he continued steadily, "that it is a strenuous task that will take up time – and we have so many people to kill, no?"
She sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Why focus on our relationship when we've got bandits' skulls to cave in, right?"
Fenris rolled his eyes to himself and stood up to make his way over to her. He slid his arms around her waist the best he could whilst wearing his customary armour and kissed the spot below her ear. "I'll collect some belongings tonight, okay?"
She nodded, continuing to pour syrup. "Deal. And here, eat some of this."
He wrinkled his nose. "I hate sweet stuff, Hawke."
She clicked her tongue irritably. "So throw some fucking salt on it. You never eat breakfast, anyway, you could have told me before I started cooking."
Wrestling out of his grasp, Hawke began shovelling down her breakfast with almost indecent enthusiasm, before wordlessly leaving the kitchen and making her way to her bedroom. Or rather, 'their' bedroom. It sounded weird when she repeated it in her head. Things were now 'theirs', 'ours'; it would take a lot of getting used to, along with the elf's constant brooding.
Fenris watched her go then sighed and rested his head upon the heels of his hands. He seemed to be infuriating Hawke more frequently now; the only time he didn't piss her off was when they had sex or post coital conversation. Other than that, it was constant. He tried to empathise: being the Champion of Kirkwall now could hardly be easy. True, Hawke had taken a couple days rest at the bequest of Bodahn, and Fenris himself. The latter could easily see that she was working herself too hard. Following the incident with the assassin – to which Fenris would grind his teeth ceaselessly until the topic changed – he rather thought Hawke deserved a break along with everyone else. Truly, if he heard Aveline tut and saw her cross her arms irritably one more time, he would not be held responsible for his actions. Feeling that he should not allow Hawke to stew for too long, he abandoned his tea, stood heavily to his feet and made his way to the master bedroom. As expected, she was tidying – if one could call it so. She was throwing garments around with unwonted venom, folding them angrily before stuffing them into drawers or hanging them inside the armoire.
"Hawke," Fenris began, intending to make his presence known. She didn't respond and he truly expected nothing less. "Hawke, I'm sorry about what happened over breakfast. Will you look at me?"
She threw down the boots she had been holding with a dull thunk. Her eyebrows were raised and arms folded tightly across her chest when she turned around. "Apology accepted, but breakfast wasn't the problem, Fenris. I'm just wondering how long it is going to take for you to realise how much I care about you, and if I'm putting pressure on you then fine, let me know, rather than leave me in the dark."
The elf sighed and crossed the room to pull Hawke into an embrace. "No, you are not pressuring me. I'm just a fool –"
"Fenris," she cut across him, and she sounded weary, "don't apologise. I'm sorry I've not been the easiest person to get along with, it's just difficult with Meredith chewing my ass over every little thing, berating me because she wants me to keep all the mages locked up like animals."
Fenris prevented himself from commenting on the Knight Commander's policies by pressing his lips against the top of Hawke's head. "I'm here for you," he murmured simply, his deep voice reverberating off her.
"I know." She nuzzled into his chest before pulling away to look up at him. "I'm going to take a day off today. I'll tell Bodahn to hold my calls and to possibly beat the messenger if he comes with even more outlandish suggestions from Meredith or pleas from Orsino…"
Fenris chuckled and gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "I think that'd be wise."
"Back to the grind tomorrow, though," she told him firmly. "Imagine the state of my desk if I did this every day."
"I think the others would appreciate the time off, too," Fenris agreed.
"Yeah – if I catch Anders's hard-done-by face or Isabela playing Five Finger Fillet with Varric any time too soon I'm going to scream." Hawke straightened the bed covers and paused for moment. "Shall we have a reading lesson today?"
Fenris felt his ears grow hot. He had almost forgotten about Hawke's promise. "Of course. I'll meet you in the library shortly."
"Please do," she told him with an eager smile.
He tried to smile back but failed. He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time, coming to a halt at the chaise lounge in the library. They had only had one lesson together, which had primarily consisted of Hawke teaching him the basic alphabet, but he felt both eager and nervous for more. Even though Hawke was a patient, attentive teacher, he felt the shame of learning something that everyone around him could do, and the embarrassment of trying to overcome something that he could not solve by combat. Moments later, Hawke appeared, wearing a deep red tunic and soft deerskin boots lined with rabbit fur – her favourite footwear when in the house.
"Okay, then," she said briskly, suddenly business-like, "we covered basic phonetics last time, so…" She trailed off as she scoured the bookshelves for something suitable. "Aha! This was a favourite of Carver's when he was a young boy."
Hawke sat cross-legged on the floor whilst Fenris peered over her shoulder to peruse the book title All the letters were familiar to him, of which he was glad, but could only make out the word 'nug' amongst the jumble. Hawke opened the small book to the first page and thus began.
The day dissolved into hours of reading, and besides several moments of frustration, laughter and cheerful exclamations from Hawke as she became increasingly more pleased with Fenris's progress. Only in the evening did they move onto more comprehensive books. Fenris was secretly relieved about this; if he read 'Schmooples the Very Hungry Nug' one more time he believe that the words would be encrypted into his brain for the rest of his days.
"Messere," Bodahn said tentatively sometime in the late evening, poking his head into the library. It was the first time the door had been opened for the most part of the day and Torch bounded in happily, gambolling around Hawke and barking madly. "Orana is preparing a late dinner. Will you eat now or later?"
Hawke cast a glance at Fenris and the elf got to his feet. "Eat now, if you like, I will be able to move some of my immediate possessions from Danarius's manor."
She nodded and turned back to the dwarf. "What Fenris said; thank you, Bodahn."
"Not at all, messere," said the manservant and bowed himself out of the room.
"Great progress today, Fenris," Hawke murmured and pecked the elf affectionately on the mouth.
"You are a wonderful teacher," he replied honestly when they broke apart. "I will return shortly."
Smiling, Hawke watched him leave, then reclined on the chaise lounge whilst Torch sniffed her face. She petted his broad head and the mabari's tail wagged so hard it was almost a blur.
"Come on, boy, let's have a nap before Fenris gets back, shall we?"
Torch barked and proceeded to follow his mistress up to her room.
Meanwhile, Fenris perused the small collection of clothes back in the manor. It would be truly foolish of him to not bring all the garments he owned to Hawke's estate considering their arrangement. Stowing shirts, jerkins, trousers and underwear into a burlap sack, he glanced slowly around the room of which he had spent the best part of six years in. The double bed sagged slightly in the middle, the metal frame rusting in places due to the damp air that was most prevalent in the winter, and the fire which had brought him inexpressible comfort on the cold nights when he had not another person to hold. In truth, he would miss the place. It had charm, in its own way, he decided; once one overlooked the fact it had been owned and lived in by a ruthless magister. Fenris had, along with Kirkwall, seen it has the most permanent home he'd remembered, including when he lived back with Danarius in Minrathous. For a short while, he found himself drifting about the manor, even into the rooms he had never used, purely for reminiscence. He felt a pang of regret that he had not restored the place to its potential glory but, amongst all the time he had spent with Hawke and at the Hanged Man, his efforts would have been all for nought.
Fenris made his way to the door, only pausing to stow a few bottles of Aggregio Pavali in his sack, and embraced the muggy air of Hightown as he crossed the courtyard to return to his lover. Despite himself, Fenris could not help but smile a little as he opened the heavy door of the estate, a small spark of excitement flaring inside of him when he thought of the evening he and Hawke would spend together.
The door creaked open heavily and the smile slid off his face as he stepped inside. Instantly, he knew something was wrong, his ears on full alert. He dropped the sack to the floor and, ignoring the clank of bottles within, crossed the threshold. A breeze was coming from somewhere within the estate and a chill that had nothing to do with the draft washed over him. Instinctively, he reached for his greatsword, before realising he had left it propped up against the wall of Hawke's room. Inwardly cursing himself, but immensely glad he had his armour on, he entered the main hall. Nothing stirred except for the crackle of the fire. Weird. Torch hadn't made so much of a whimper, which roused Fenris's curiosity most of all. If it had been near his birthday, he would have considered the whole thing a last-minute attempt to throw him a surprise party.
He darted into the library and was greeted by the sight of Bodahn knocked out cold and splayed out on the floor. Over in the corner Sandal was cowering but leapt up at the sight of Fenris.
"Not enchantment!" the dwarf said shakily.
"Be calm, Sandal," Fenris told him firmly. The elf turned over Bodahn's body and sighed with relief when he discovered that the old dwarf was still breathing. A brilliantly purple bruise had bloomed on his temple, however, so Fenris merely laid him on a couch and turned to the dwarf's son. "What happened here, Sandal?"
"The bad men came," he whispered, clasping his hands to his mouth. Suddenly, the air was wrought by a shaky scream.
"Messere!" shrieked Orana, bursting in through the library door. "I am so glad you are here! I heard your voice from the kitchen and when I heard you come in I surely thought they had returned to finish us all off –"
"Who?" Fenris asked her sharply. "Who was here?"
"Oh, it was awful," the servant sobbed, "they broke in upstairs and – and searched the house, and –" She broke off and dissolved into hysterics. "Oh, they took Messere Hawke! They fought and fought and I truly thought she would overpower them but –"
"Hawke has been kidnapped?" Fenris reiterated incredulously. His voice sounded oddly far away as if he were dreaming. Surely it couldn't be true?
Orana nodded and gulped several times. "Yes, yes, messere!"
Without waiting to hear any more, he fled the library with astonishing speed, taking the stairs three at a time. "Hawke!" he bellowed, sprinting across the landing, "Hawke! Can you hear me?"
He burst into Hawke's room and stood stock still, gazing in horror at the scene that presented itself before him: the hangings of the bed had been ripped down and hung only by a few rungs; the balcony doors had been swung open, which explained the draft; spots of blood stained the floor and, slumped in one corner clearly incapacitated by magic, was Torch. Fenris threw aside the strewn bedding as if by some miracle he would find his lover hiding beneath them, probably unconscious, but definitely not dead. He carded a tense hand through his hair, ignoring the sharp pain when his gauntleted fingers scraped his scalp. He had to find her. He would find her – he would walk all over Thedas until his legs crumbled beneath him. To try was not an option. The only question that occurred to him, he thought as he bent over the unconscious mabari, was why? What would someone want with Hawke? She was a good woman and had helped the city in a plethora of ways. Sure, she had had disagreements along the way, but had solved them either peacefully or by decapitating them. Both yielded good results.
Torch had been cut, Fenris could see, and obviously had put up a good fight. The elf lifted the dog's gums and found his canines to be flecked with human flesh. He could only hope that the blood that had been splattered about the room belonged to the intruders. Had it been coincidence that Fenris had not been present the moment they broke in? Or had they meticulously planned this for weeks, even months?
Fenris slid his greatsword – which had been knocked underneath the bed – onto his back and, with a stupendous effort, especially considering how strong he was, Fenris lifted the dog and held it in his arms. Torch was breathing, albeit slowly, which was a relatively positive sign; though if Fenris did not heal him soon, his breathing would cease forever. It was inevitable: he would have to take the mabari to Anders. Of course, Fenris's first thought and instinct was to follow the blood, leap across the balcony and do whatever it was in his power to get Hawke back. He felt useless as a protector. For someone who had vowed never to hurt her, or allow any damage to come to her, he had done a rather piss-poor job of it thus far. Yet he had no starting point and could not do this on his own. Healing Torch and hoping the dog would help pick up a trail was his only hope for now.
Momentarily furious with himself, he banged a fist against the armoire, consequentially splintering the wood of the door. But he didn't care. Securing his hold on Torch, Fenris made his way back downstairs, his legs numb and heavy like lead as if they belonged to someone else. In the library, Orana was holding Bodahn upright whilst the dwarf sipped strong, sweet tea. Another thought occurred to the elf now: the safety of the servants. Now what?
"Bodahn," Fenris said clearly, "I am taking Torch to Anders, and implore you to come with me. You should be checked over and we need to offer you all protection."
"Not to worry, messere, I'm fine…" Bodahn tried to stand but winced. Fenris's patience began to wear thin.
"They will return, and they will finish you off, make no doubt about that. Come with me and tell me everything you remember. Orana, Sandal, help him to his feet. I can protect us, but first, we must find Aveline."
Steadily, the unlikely group made their way cautiously along the Chantry courtyard, Fenris looking over his shoulder at every small sound. He had momentarily removed one of his customary spiked pauldrons as to hold Torch in a more comfortable position, his other hand free in case of attack.
"Quickly," he hissed as they approached Viscount's Keep. The Keep entrance was flanked by two guards and Fenris felt an imminent feeling of foreboding.
"Halt," one of the guards commanded, holding out a hand. "What business have you at these hours?"
"I need to see Guard Captain Aveline," Fenris told him. "I have business with her."
The guard snorted and turned to his companion. "Hear this, Jeff? Some elf wants access to the Keep!" At this, the other guard guffawed stupidly. "I'm not letting you in, you stupid knife ear, you hear me?"
No sooner had these words left the guard's mouth, Fenris glowed an eerie blue, reaching out a fist and grabbing the guard by the neck, Torch holstered awkwardly over his shoulder. "I'm not asking, I'm telling," Fenris snarled in the man's face. "Let me in before I fucking kill you where you stand, do you understand me?"
"I – I'll have your head for this!" the guard stammered. His companion nervously advanced but Fenris had had enough.
"Try me," the elf hissed before thrusting his fist inside the guard's torso and crushing his heart. The corpse fell with a heavy crash of armour to the floor and Fenris turned to the other guard that had backed into the wall. "Open the door and I may spare your life."
The man turned a great brass key in the lock with shaking hands. As Fenris passed him, he threw a heavy punch at him and knocked him out cold, just for good measure. The last thing he needed now was a whistle-blower to wake up half of Hightown. He needed to do this fast.
"Come," he said imperiously to the quivering servants.
The Keep was in almost complete darkness, save for a couple torches in brackets that lined the walls. Eerie strips of moonlight shone through the tall narrow windows and all was still. As quickly and quietly as possible, Fenris scaled the few steps, leaving Orana, Bodahn and Sandal lagging behind, for Fenris knew that he was the only danger here. Within a minute he came to a halt outside Aveline's office. Surely she should be inside…
Knocking briskly, Fenris waited with baited breath, until the door was swung open so violently he reeled in shock and found a longsword pointed at his throat.
"State your business," said Aveline loudly and clearly. Despite her aggressive demeanour, Fenris had never been glad to see her.
"Lower your weapon, Aveline."
Begrudgingly, she did so, and her voice took on an irritated quality. "What are you doing here at this hour?"
"Let me in. Please."
She opened the door wider with a sigh and made to shut it as soon as Fenris had entered.
"Wait," he told her; a moment later the other three had appeared and Aveline gasped in shock and disbelief.
"Would you care to tell me what the hell is going on?"
Hastily, and rather irritably, Fenris explained. They were wasting precious time and the longer he spoke the tighter the knot in his stomach became.
"Can you provide protection?" he asked. "Bodahn is in no immediate danger and will be fine if Anders can get here."
"I'll ask Jeff and –" Aveline began briskly but Fenris cut her off.
"Do you mean the two guards at the front door?"
"Yes. Why?" She looked at him shrewdly.
"They are temporarily unavailable," he said swiftly, hitching the unconscious mabari higher on his shoulder. "Aveline, we are losing time. Just rouse a couple of guards and let's get going."
"Just give me one moment, Fenris –"
"We don't have one moment!" he bellowed, banging his fist hard on the desk and making everyone in the vicinity jump.
The guardswoman contemplated him for a moment. "I know Hawke means a lot to you. Hell, she does to me, despite the trouble she drags me into. We will find her, okay?" Her voice was gentle, placating, as if Fenris were a mere babe throwing a tantrum. Nevertheless, his breathing slowed, and he nodded wordlessly.
She turned to the servants. "Can anyone remember anything about what happened?"
"N-no, messere," stammered Orana, fresh tears leaving tracks on her cheeks. "I was in the kitchen cooking Messere Hawke a late dinner when I heard all the commotion. I heard fighting upstairs and – and I was so afraid, I didn't come out of the kitchen until Messere Fenris came home."
"Very well. What about you, Bodahn?"
"I was attacked from behind," said the dwarf honestly. "Cowardly, if you ask me. I had just gone to check in on my boy when I felt something hit me. I surely thought they would finish me off but then I fainted. And there's no use asking the boy, here," he added, gazing at Sandal in a fond, fatherly way. "He can only just string a sentence together on his better days. You'll get no sense from him."
Aveline nodded slowly, looking crestfallen, and Fenris carded a restless hand through his hair again, resigned to the worst. Nobody remembered anything and now their only hope was the unconscious, half-alive dog that lay slumped over Fenris's shoulder. Aveline rested a comforting hand on his for a second and turned away, leaving the room and an awkward silence in her wake, nothing making a sound apart from Torch's ragged breathing.
"Donnic, Brennan, keep watch while I am gone," Aveline said from outside the door. "Do not let anyone in, except for myself or Fenris or Anders. Is that understood?"
"Yes, guard-captain," came Brennan's voice. "I'll man the hall."
"Is everything okay, love?" Donnic asked quietly. Fenris strained his ears.
Aveline sighed. "I hope so. Fenris," she called, "let's go."
With only a brief nod to Donnic, Fenris hastened from the Keep, Aveline hot on his heels.
"I'm hoping we can make it to Darktown without incident," she was muttering. Her longsword was held aloft for precaution. Outside, she uttered a soft scream as she looked down at the guard's lifeless body. "'Temporarily unavailable'!" she exclaimed. "You didn't say 'killed in a fit of anger'!"
"Nevermind that now," the elf snapped. "I care deeply about Hawke, and getting her back is the only thing I care about. Maybe you should teach your guards proper manners and the intellect to recognise an emergency when they see one, rather than assuming it to be a one-man attack to siege the Keep."
Aveline bit her tongue. Truly, nothing she could say would improve the situation. It would be wiser for her to remain silent, speak only when necessary, for this could save time as opposed to arguing a moot point. Anger bubbled up inside her, however, at the elf's attitude and his insinuation that he was the only person to care about Hawke's rescue. How dare he! Aveline had been with her since before the moment they had set foot in Kirkwall. It was completely unfair for Fenris to assume otherwise about her feelings. Deep down, however, she knew that Fenris's tirade was nothing personal. Much.
After what felt like an eternity, even more so due to the silence that stretched between them, they had made it to the Darktown sewers, though the moment they appeared in front of the clinic, Fenris stopped dead. He refused to enter first and Anders would not be too accommodating; the lanterns were out which meant the clinic was closed. That and the fact that the mage hated the mere sights of the elf.
Without preamble, Aveline pushed open the heavy wooden doors. She didn't ask Fenris for an explanation. Plus, it was much simpler this way.
"Anders!" she called out into the gloom. "Anders, come out here, it's an emergency!"
A fumble, a bang, and a string of swear words were heard as the mage appeared from his sleeping quarters. He certainly looked worse for wear: he had dark rings under his eyes and his strawberry blond hair and been freed from its usual tie. His clothes were wonky which made Aveline think he had just thrown them on.
"What?" he asked peevishly. "Can't a man cure his hangover now? And what's he doing here?" Anders jerked a thumb in Fenris's direction. The elf glowered though didn't comment.
"Can you heal animals?" Aveline asked briskly, answering none of his questions. With a nod, Fenris set Torch down upon a tabletop, Anders watching with narrowed eyes. "He's out cold, presumably work of magic. Can you do something?"
Sparing Fenris a filthy look, Anders looked the dog over. "How come Hawke didn't bring him down?"
"Hawke's been kidnapped."
Anders swung round to face Fenris, who had said these words, and his face mingled into one of fury and disbelief, spluttering out a tirade of barely formed sentences in his hysteria. "How? Why? Who? You – you let this happen, didn't you? You promised to look after her!"
Bellowing like a wounded bronto, Anders charged at Fenris, all sensible thought vanishing from his mind, ignoring the fact that the elf was beginning to glow. He found his path interrupted by a glaring Aveline.
"Anders!" she snapped, holding out her hands and colliding with his chest. "Her dog is the only hope we have. Do something!"
Glaring at Fenris, Anders swung away and resumed his examination of Torch. He muttered to himself and his hands glowed a gentle blue as he worked his healing magic. The dog's breathing became stable. Anders stood back and scratched his chin, a frown on his face.
"That's all I can do for now," he said. He began applying a balm to Torch's cuts. "He had cracked ribs and the start of internal bleeding – he's stable, but I won't wake him. He'll be in a lot of pain."
"Can't you do something else?" Fenris demanded aggressively.
Anders faced him with his eyebrows raised in a haughty manner. "No. Not for another hour at least. Let my magic do its work, elf."
Fenris opened his mouth to argue more, but Aveline cut across him.
"Anders," she said as patiently as possible. "We don't have an hour. Hawke is gone. Is any of this getting through to you? Or are you so addled with ale that none of this has sunk in?"
The mage closed his eyes. He looked pained – either from his hangover or the fact that he was still trying to come to terms with Hawke's evident disappearance. Or both. "Torch will be able to pick up a scent from Hawke's estate – you need him, there's no question about that – but it's inevitable that you need to wait. I want Hawke back as much as you do but we have nothing to go on."
Fenris slumped heavily onto a cot and rested his head in the palms of his hands. It was hopeless, and with such a slim chance that Torch's abilities were not being underestimated, he was not feeling too confident, yet he would not give up.
"Perhaps you would like to come with me to rouse everybody else," Aveline said to the elf. "It's all we can do… for now."
After a moment, Fenris heaved himself up, and left the clinic with the guardswoman without another word. Anders watched them go and only when they were out of sight did he close the door and lean against a table to massage his temples. His head felt woolly, clouded, regardless of the herbal treatments he had taken throughout the day; none of it was enough to counteract the alcohol that lingered within his system. In all honesty, he remembered very little of the previous night, recalling only the way he had burst into the brothel and had meant business. He paid for the most expensive prostitute available and had given Madam Lucille an extra sovereign for 'special requirements'. Since Hawke, the whore had been the best sex he'd had in a long time. Afterwards – a long time after, Anders recalled with a sense of satisfaction – he had gotten stupidly drunk on ale and most likely talked bollocks to whoever pretended to be listening.
He chuckled to himself. Quite a few times throughout the night he had referred to Fenris as a 'snowy-haired bastard that could turn milk sour by only looking at it'. Now, whilst he waited for the imminent return of even more people, Anders heated up a mug of green tea and sipped it peacefully as he watched the steady rise and fall of Torch's chest. Poor dog. Despite the mabari's current state, Anders knew that Torch would be up to the job, for he had spent many a time with them in Fereldan. There had been a time at Vigil's Keep when King Alistair had passed by. Anders recalled the way a mabari stood at the king's side proudly, its brown eyes glaring haughtily at the new crowd of Wardens that the queen had assembled. And at Ostagar, too – the howls and snarls that echoed in the back of Anders's mind now still gave him chills, remembering how the beasts tore chunks off of genlocks as easily as a hot knife through butter. He shuddered. He would rather not get on the bad side of a mabari, and was secretly glad he preferred cats more. This was probably a good thing.
Setting his empty mug down, the mage gave the unconscious dog a small pat. Half an hour had surely passed now. With nothing else to do, Anders began pacing his clinic, lifting dusty jars off shelves and replacing them, merely to keep his hands busy. Torch's external wounds had healed and, with another interval of healing magic and by gently pressing his hands to the dog's ribcage, Anders could tell that bones were beginning to fuse together again. Without the dog awake, it was surely difficult to understand the amount of pain he would be in. Along with the fact that mabaris could not speak, this added to the difficulty on what degree of magic to use. Better to do it little by little…
Suddenly, the clinic door opened again with a bang, almost throwing it off its hinges for the second time that night. Even though Anders expected them to arrive he jumped nonetheless. As expected, Merrill was wringing her hands nervously, jabbering away to a disgruntled-looking Fenris, whilst Varric appeared marginally agitated and Isabela somewhat excited.
"How is he?" Aveline asked the moment she stepped over the threshold, nodding to Torch.
"Fine. I will wake him soon."
Fenris merely snorted and distanced himself from the Dalish mage who appeared to not be ceasing her incessant chatting.
"… I mean, we will find Hawke, won't we?" she was saying in a high-pitched voice. "She always finds us and helps us out of trouble, but we don't know where to start and I can't imagine –"
"Daisy," Varric said after a time. "We will find her. Don't worry your pretty little head."
"I hope we get to kill the kidnappers," Isabela murmured with relish, a dreamy look in her eye. "What if they have Hawke tied up, half-naked, at their mercy, and then I burst in –"
"Excuse me," said Fenris sharply, cutting across the pirate's monologue. Isabela stuck her tongue out at him but kept her thoughts to herself.
Ignoring the tense chatter going on, Anders bent over Torch, murmured a few well-chosen words and stood back, watching apprehensively. A moment later, the dog's eyelids fluttered open, and great brown eyes swivelled around the unfamiliar surroundings.
"Easy, boy," murmured the mage. Talk had ceased and everyone watched with bated breath. The last thing they needed was for Torch to become distressed and ransack the clinic.
Gingerly, the mabari tested out its weight on its paws, before standing shakily. Its gaze found Aveline and it wagged its tail slowly. Then, Torch leapt down from the table. He winced only slightly as he landed and sniffed around the clinic before whining, his sniffing becoming more and more erratic. Aveline finally understood.
"She's not here, boy," the guardswoman said softly. She crouched onto her knees and beckoned Torch over to her. The dog continued to cry and it was all she could do not to cry along with him. "We need to find her. Can you do that?"
Torch cocked his head to one side and barked once, leading the party out of Darktown.