Despite her promise that they would talk about the whole "marriage" business the next day, Hawke found ways to put the talk off, even if she did it unconsciously. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Fenris about the topic, but the more she avoided it, the easier it was to avoid, and the more reflexively she put up barriers between them and the conversation.

There was also the fact that she was so joyful to be home and so happy to be back with Bethy. Her baby had changed so much over the near-month they were gone, not just growing bigger but developing new skills. When Aveline stopped by for an early afternoon lunch, Hawke was amazed at seeing Bethy pull herself up to a standing position using the small table in the library and gushed about it to her friend.

"Oh, she's been doing that a few weeks now," Aveline said, unthinking. Guilt flashed through Hawke, hot and queasy, and at the pale look on her friend's face, Aveline tried to backtrack and make her words sound better and less accusatory.

It didn't work, however; Hawke knew that she was at fault for leaving Bethy behind, and she wanted to feel the guilt so that she could undergo some sort of punishment. Fenris told her to stop being absurd, and that, while it was her choice to go, the way things turned out, it was best that she had. Hawke knew it for truth as he said it: she was the only one who was able to operate the key-staff, which now sat there with her other staves, but in a position of more importance. If she hadn't been along, neither of the other two mages nor Carver would have been able to use it, and they would have been trapped there. Plus, with all the fighting, having a second Healer along had been imperative. And she knew this. She knew these things, and it didn't matter, because Hawke wanted to punish herself.

So she spent the first two weeks back in Kirkwall taking care of her family and catching up on any important correspondence that simply couldn't wait. There was a mess of it, that was certain, and with the dual diversions of Bethy and paperwork, Hawke was able, well enough, to hedge on any sort of life-altering conversations with Fenris. For his part, Fenris didn't seem to mind, or perhaps he simply didn't notice that he never had the intended talk with Hawke, for no accusing conversations about avoided conversations were brought to her by him, and so Hawke was, more or less, content.

And of course, the end of Solace brought the beginning of August and All Soul's Day into fast orbit. Hawke knew that she would be expected to host for the holiday, and she knew that Carver would be there, as well as the rest of her friends. That meant the conversation that she had been putting off with Fenris would get brought up by her brother no matter what she wanted, and on top of that this would be the second All Soul's Day without Mother, but the first with Bethy. At less than a year old, Bethy was far too young for the various plays and public bonfires that would attend the holiday, and she wouldn't understand the reasoning behind the various parades with people dressed as spirits in order to honor the dead, but it was still a holiday, and each holiday that crept up seemed to be important to celebrate, in Hawke's mind. They were milestones as surely as the first time her baby smiled at her, or laughed, or the first time she pulled herself up to standing, holding onto the table edge for dear life.

So Hawke had a talk with Orana and managed to get preparations for her friends and some select society members to come celebrate All Soul's Day at the Hawke/Amell estate. This still left her in the precarious position of presenting Fenris as he was: for truly, what was he? The term "boyfriend" was crude and insufficient; the term "lover" was too risqué and insufficient; the term "husband" was incorrect, for it was not so, legally. And if it were just going to be her crew there, she and Fenris would have no reason to present as anything that they were not; their complicated terminologies were, if nothing else, a source of amusement to her merry band of misfits, for they enjoyed how Hawke always tried to over-complicate things that should be simple, and teasing Fenris about it was nearly a group pastime. But there would be Society People coming, old friends of her mother's family and people with whom she had special connections, usually through work or in helping her with her crusade against Meredith in the Viscount's seat in all but name (and really, the woman had some nerve, refusing three perfectly good Viscount potentials because she was so concerned over the idea of "blood magic" that simply wasn't there; everyone and their uncle knew that Meredith just wanted the power for herself, and it seemed like Elthina was all too happy to have the Chantry and the Templars in charge of Kirkwall, to the detriment of the city!) Simply put, they were not people whom she could turn away without some sort of offense, if she were to hold the All Soul's Day dinner at her house, and she could do nothing else, because of society position.

Sometimes Hawke regretted buying back their estate and title, when it led to issues such as this.

And so, Hawke decided, for herself, at least, that she would simply introduce Fenris as "Fenris," without any sort of title or honorific, should introductions be required. His lack of a proper status in Kirkwall as well as the lack of a surname for him caused issues, but they were nothing she hadn't handled before, and they would be nothing that she and he wouldn't be able to handle in the future.

And here was hoping that he didn't take offense at the idea.

"Marian," Fenris called to her, softly, from the other side of the library. Hawke looked up from the book she was engrossed in, blinking slightly to clear away her thoughts, where Fenris was standing, bent at the knees, Bethy's hands in his and taking very fragile, tentative steps forward.

"Oh my," Hawke said, letting the book settle down on her lap. "When did this happen?"

"Just now," Fenris assured her. Bethy wobbled for a moment, where she was standing, and then slowly put one foot in front of the other, drew it back, and put it forward again, as if she were unsure of how the entire thing was supposed to go. Hawke laughed, delighted, which drew Bethy's attention over towards her; the child lost her footing and then sat down on her bottom rather quickly, Fenris helping her the entire time.

"You are so big, Bethy," Hawke cooed, grinning at her daughter. For her part, Bethy didn't seem to think she had done anything special, simply looking around before sticking her fist back in her mouth and examining the line of drool there. Fenris took the opportunity to stand straight and knuckle his back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"She will be walking and talking before we are quite ready," Fenris told her. He seemed so relaxed and so at peace, there in Hawke's estate, with their daughter. He was quicker to laugh and slower to anger, although he still did not seem to want to spend a lot of time around others, which Hawke understood. And he was still slow to trust, which was something else she understood. He spent virtually no time in his mansion anymore, only dropping by with Hawke to check and make sure nothing had disappeared, although Hawke was unsure as to how he would be able to tell. He had spent every night the last two weeks at Hawke's estate with her and Bethy, to the point where Orana was washing his things along with theirs and setting a place for Fenris without even being consulted on the matter. At first, Fenris seemed to want to argue about this, but Hawke explained that this was just how things were going to have to go from now on, and Fenris subsided with only a slightly irritated look. Dance around the topic of marriage all she wanted, but for all intents and purposes, she and Fenris were living as if they were wedded.

With a glance up at the clock, Hawke started. "Maker's breath, the guests will be here in two hours!" She scooted to the edge of the armchair, replacing the marker in her book to hold her place. "We need to get Bethy washed and dressed. And I daresay we could use baths, too."

Fenris shrugged uncomfortably. "I do not need another bath; I bathed last night, Hawke." She grinned to herself; whenever she got him to call her "Hawke" in that tone, she knew she was irritating him, but in a particularly fun way. Fenris could be most fun to irritate sometimes.

"Well, perhaps I am in need of another one, then." Maker's mercy, she had learned some things from her mother. "You know the de Launcets will be here early, to try to catch a glimpse of something scandalous. If we're not ready by then, they just might."

"Why? Were you planning something potentially scandalous?" he asked, lazily bending down to pick Bethy up.

"Everything's scandalous when you're nobility," she informed him. "Especially when it comes to discrete elven lovers?"

"Discrete? Hardly that," he replied, sounding amused.

"You do rather stick out like a sore thumb," she said.

"Like a sore thumb? But nobody wants a sore thumb around. I suppose this is your way of telling me you wish me to leave?" He arched a brow, deadpan.

"You got me," she informed him, standing and straightening out her skirts and settling her bodice. "But truly, we have to get Bethy bathed and dressed. She's going to be passed around so much tonight that if she doesn't smell good, people will talk."

"People always talk. Isn't that what you just said?"

"Yes, but I want them to talk about how good she smells and what an excellent mother I am, not that she smells like she's not had a bath in weeks and that I'm absolutely wretched." A couple of steps brought her to Fenris and she took Bethy from him, grinning brightly at her daughter. Maker, but Bethy was beautiful. Her eyes hadn't changed to green, if they ever would, but they were large and blue, surrounded by the long, dark lashes that she and Fenris both shared. His eyes were more tilted than Hawke's, and you could see him there in the shape, and in the slightest elongation of her ears. Anyone who didn't know she was elf-blooded wouldn't suspect a thing; Bethy would always be able to pass as human, never as an elf. If this fact bothered Fenris, he hadn't said anything to her about it.

Those large eyes blinked at her mother, and then one damp fist came out to grab at a lock of hair that had escaped the ponytail Hawke customarily wore it in. Bethy tugged on it sharply and Hawke felt her head go forward with the pulling, making an irritated sound. Babies. Not that strong, but always using their entire strength when they want something! Fenris came to her rescue, removing the errant hair from Bethy's hand with only a few of them lost to the cause, and Hawke rolled her eyes and wrapped the tiny fingers of the offending hand around her index finger.

"If you want something to grab, little miss, you can grab this. If you pull it, you won't rip my hair out, that's for sure certain."

"Do you think she is teething? Aveline said she might be."

"And how much does Aveline know about babies, anyway?"

"I… believe you are correct, there. She knows less than either of us, I am certain of that."

"But you still think she is teething."

"I do not think I know whether or not she's teething, and thus the point is moot." Fenris said, dismissively. Hawke smirked in his general direction and gently tried to pull her finger away from Bethy, who held onto it tightly and shriek-laughed at her mother.

In the end, only Bethy got the bath, but Hawke decided that she and Fenris truly did not need them. One of the benefits of civilization was the ability to have hot baths daily, she felt, and one of the benefits of being a mage was the ability to create hot water on demand. All that meant that Hawke must be the most civilized mage of the Dragon Age.

The All Soul's Day dinner was a somber affair, and was most likely being repeated all throughout Thedas at that very hour. The food and drink were, of course, delicious, and Hawke put on a brave smile for her guests. Carver drank too much and flirted outrageously with Merrill, and the Comtesse de Launcet tried to bring up the idea of marriage between her daughter, Fifi, and Carver, which earned her scornful laughter from Carver, which in turn earned him nearly being drug into the hall closet by his ear and a scathing talking-to by his sister, who informed him, in no uncertain terms, that he was to behave himself as befitted his station and learn to accept marriage proposals gracefully while turning them down with aplomb.

Hawke was quite pleased that Isabela was acting her usual self; it would mean apologies to her more noble guests later, and tutting over Isabela's horrible flirtations and innuendos, but while it was going on, even though All Soul's Day was supposed to be a more sober and calm holiday, Hawke reveled in it. This was the first All Soul's Day in Kirkwall without her mother, the last one having been spent in Grunding while pregnant with Bethy, and these were, for the most part, friends of her mother's rather than her own friends.

Eventually, and thankfully, the festivities ended, and Hawke was glad to see the backs of everyone who bothered to leave. Merrill was curled up on the sofa in her library and she wasn't about to kick the little Dalish out, and Carver was making noises about wanting to stay in his room instead of going back to the barracks, probably because Merrill was there and he wanted more time with her in the morning. Anders was sleeping it off, whatever it was, in his usual guest room (which Hawke always thought to make up just for him and to install a lock on the door so that he could have a bit of privacy when he wanted it, because who knew when he might want to "bring home" a young lady? Well, probably never, considering it was Anders and he was still as in love with Hawke was he had been, but a girl could hope) and Bethy was down at her customary time, curled up in her crib with the increasingly-ragged teddy bear, leaving just herself, Fenris, Orana, and Bodahn up to get things cleaned up.

Leftovers were wrapped and put away, dishes were mostly washed (those that couldn't wait until the next day, that is; Hawke might have cheated a bit and helped things along with her magic. There was no reason to have magic if not to serve them, after all.) It was closer to sunrise than it was midnight when Hawke finally sent Orana and Bodahn off to find their rest, and she stopped in to check on Bethy, who was sleeping rather soundly. This was not the first time she had slept through the night, and Hawke knew it wouldn't be the last, but it was good that she wasn't needing to wake as regularly anymore, although it meant that she was losing her baby for a child.

"Ready to bed?" she asked Fenris, knuckling her back. It ached, from all the walking and standing. She must be getting old and out of shape, for a night of somber revelry to take her that badly.

"I will probably sleep past noon," came the dour reply. He hadn't been asked to stay up with her, nor was it required of him, yet he had done it with no complaints. In fact, Fenris had been fairly good company, and if she weren't so tired, she would reward him for his diligent help.

"At least the Comtesse wasn't trying to marry you off," she told him, holding her hair up and out of the way so that he could undo the buttons on her dress.

"As if that would work. Who would marry an elven slave?" he snorted. Hawke rolled her eyes.

"You're not a slave anymore, Fenris," she reminded him in a chiding tone.

"Regardless," came the reply.

"Regardless, you got to escape that. Carver and I did not." She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a yawn. "Maker's mercy," she complained, stepping out of the dress once the buttons were done far enough and unwinding the breast band around her chest. "You'd think she wouldn't be so pushy about getting Fifi married off. The girl's not yet twenty."

"Not yet twenty, but could give mares a run in the face," Fenris commented dryly. She smacked him in the back of the head, which earned herself a disapproving look.

"Looks aren't everything," she told him.

"Pardon me," he said. "I suppose she'll get by on her winning personality. Hopefully, she'll find her match in someone who enjoys sitting around and watching paint dry." Hawke bit her bottom lip and stifled the giggle that wanted to escape; poor Fifi. Plain and boring to boot; the woman truly did have poor luck.

"It's no wonder that Carver isn't interested in her," Hawke said, pulling out her nightgown from her dresser drawer. Fenris was busy getting out of his own tunic and trousers, wiggling his toes now that they were free of the uncomfortable and unfamiliar shoes that she had talked him into wearing. "Although only a fool could miss that he's taken with Merrill." She tugged the gown on over her head and settled it around her hips, wiggling her own toes. Pointy-toed shoes should be outlawed, no matter how much Aveline insisted they looked good on her. Isabela hadn't helped in that regard, either; the pirate had positively gushed over how well they looked on Hawke.

Hawke pulled back the covers on the bed and flopped down into her spot, groaning slightly at how good her bed felt. She would wind up not getting a lot in the way of sleep, even if she fell out right then, but she could enjoy the feeling her bed had to offer her: cool sheets, comfortable mattress, fluffy pillow. "I think I'll just die right now," she muttered, trying to dislodge the hair from her mouth.

"I would be taken quite amiss if you decided to," Fenris told her, sliding in next to her and stretching out himself with a pleased sort of grunt. Hawke cuddled up to him, resting her head on his chest, and Fenris brought his arms around her, hugging her tightly against him and kissing the top of her head.

"You were good tonight," Hawke said, smiling faintly.

"Was I?"

"You know you were. I'll make a noble out of you yet."

"I cannot see why you'd want to. The shoes are horrible."

"I won't argue with you there," she replied, yawning again. She snuggled against him again, and soon her breathing evened out and Hawke fell asleep.

"Chauncey," Hawke said, holding the bear out to Bethy. The child squealed with laughter and tried to grab for the toy, but Hawke pulled it away gently. "Chauncey," she said again, slowly.

"Ma da da da da da," Bethy agreed, opening and closing her little hands with eagerness. Hawke shook her head in dismay.

"I fear she's never going to learn how to actually talk," she said to Fenris, who was lounging in one of the armchairs, seemingly engrossed in the thick tome he was holding.

"She is an infant," he said, dryly. "She will learn at her own pace."

"Ma da da ma ma da da da," Bethy said again, creeping forward on her bottom.

"Chauncey?" Hawke asked, with more enthusiasm than hope.

"Chauncey is an absurd name for a child's toy," Fenris said, turning the page slowly. "Why would you choose such a thing?"

"Xenon suggested it," Hawke muttered, giving up and handing the stuffed bear over to Bethy, who cooed and giggled, then set upon its ear with her drooly mouth. She had been drooling a lot, lately, and was fussy when the drooling was the worst. Anders told Hawke that Bethy was teething, and to expect teeth before too long, but that there was little to be done to ease the discomfort apart from Healing, and there was no need to Heal one so young from something so natural.

"Xenon," Fenris scoffed, marking his place in the book and glaring at Hawke. "You did not take her to see Xenon, did you?"

"Would I do something like that?" she said, affronted. She was also hedging; indeed, Hawke had brought Bethy with her the last time she visited the Black Emporium. Xenon was creepy and odd and very probably dead, but he had also helped Hawke on numerous occasions, including hiding her and her crew from rogue Templars who were searching for Anders, and Hawke wouldn't let Fenris stop her from taking Bethy to visit the Antiquarian, so long as the… man… wished for visitors.

But Fenris merely shook his head and frowned, then returned to his study of the book in his hands. They had been… arguing… more lately, since the All Soul's Day party that Hawke had hosted, and neither of them wanted to argue over something like that when it could be avoided. Not that the next topic of discussion could be avoided for much longer…

"Speaking of Xenon," Hawke said, after clearing her throat. "I was thinking of doing a little bit of housecleaning in Darktown. Maybe tomorrow night."

"You want to voluntarily go to Darktown? At night? Tomorrow night?" Fenris stared at her as if he couldn't believe the words she was saying.

"Well, yes. I do have a job to do, Fenris, even if you don't like it."

"Of course I don't like it," he growled. "You should be at home with our child, not mucking about in Darktown at night. Do you have a death wish? Because that's how you die, Hawke."

"I wasn't going by myself, you know," Hawke huffed, turning away from him slightly and pretending to focus all her attention on Bethy, who was mercilessly gumming Chauncey's ear. "Varric and 'Bela both said they'd come with me."

"And leave you without an actual fighter? How were you going to explain your disappearance to me?"

"I was going to talk about it to you right now, like rational adults," she countered. Bethy grew bored with the bear and flung it down, then decided to start trying to crawl across the room again. Hawke knew she would get it someday, probably sooner rather than later.

"What did you expect me to do, Hawke? Just let you go off, the three of you? I know you're a good Healer, but you're awful at combat magic. You need to have another fighter with you. If you do not trust me to go—"

"I trust you!" she interjected, turning to face him with brows drawn, but Fenris marched over her words with his own.

"If you do not trust me at your back, then at least take Aveline, or Sebastian. Better to have at least one other there who can do more damage than you can."

Hawke crossed her arms under her breasts and scowled for all she was worth. Fenris met her look with a bland one, one brow arched slightly. "I am not as bad as you're trying to make me out to be, Fenris J. Hawke!"

"Hawke," he said, a warning tone.

"Fenris," she said, matching his warning tone with one of her own.

"I will not allow you to go—"

"Allow me? You will not allow me to go? Who are you, my father?"

"I am thinking about what's best for Bethy—"

"You are treating me like some kind of helpless child!"

"You are acting like a child!"

"You're acting like an ass!"

"Hawke, there is no call for—"

"There's no call for you treating me like I can't handle myself in a fight. It's just Darktown. Need I remind you about how well I was able to hold my own back in the Vinmarks?"

"Need I remind you about how many times you faced serious injury? Without the abomination there—"

"Without Anders!"

"Without him, and without the blood mage, and without your brother, we would have been strongly overrun within the second fight, and you know it."

"Well, if you mistrust my ability to fight so much, why don't you come along?"

"Because someone needs to stay here and watch Bethy! I'm not going to go haring off just because you've decided to be bored with housewifery!"

"I am not 'bored with housewifery,' thank you very much! I am not even a housewifery!"

"Because you won't sit still to have discussions with me about important things and now you leave it up to me to stay behind to watch Bethy while you go out and have some fun. You'll probably wind up at The Hanged Man after—"

"And so what if I do? I deserve a chance to have some fun every now and then!"

"And then you'll get drunk with Isabela and who knows where you'll wind up."

"I'll wind up back here, thank you, Fenris, although I appreciate your vote of confidence."

The loud crying sound suddenly interrupted their "discussion," and Hawke glanced over to see Bethy sitting there, face screwed up and red, tears streaming down her cheeks, hands balled into fists. Her heart gave a lurch and she reached out to her daughter instinctively, drawing her onto her lap and cuddling the child against her breast.

"Shhh, shhh, what's wrong?"

"Your screeching has driven our child to tears," Fenris said, angry. He stood up and flung the book down onto the little table with more force than was strictly necessary. "I need some air," he muttered, and stalked out of the library. Hawke sighed as Bethy sniffled, then realized her father was leaving the room and broke out into a wail anew.

"No, no, don't scream, Bethy," Hawke told her, gently bouncing the child in her lap. "See? Mama is here!" She put a bright smile on her face, but Bethy was not buying such tactics.

"Da da da da da," she cried, and Hawke rolled her eyes.

"Your da da da da needs some air, insufferable man," she told Bethy. "He'll be back in, and then we will discuss things like civilized adults." The look Bethy gave her was doubtful, and did little to stop the tantrum, but eventually she calmed down and started making hungry sounds. A glance at the clock told Hawke it was about time for her to take her milk, anyway, but by the time preparations were done and Bethy was on her way to a nap, having taken the entire bubby pot full of warm goat's milk, Fenris had still not returned.

Hawke was settled on the sofa, reading a book of fairy stories to Bethy when she heard loud footsteps out in the hallway leading to the library. Both she and Bethy looked over at the doorway expectantly, but Hawke knew Fenris would never make that much sound walking through the house.

She was right; it was Anders, appearing ragged and worn, his hair matted with blood and visible bruises on his face. Hawke gasped and started to stand up, then remembered that Bethy was sitting on her lap there at the last minute and remained where she was sitting. Bethy, excited to see her uncle Anders, started making pleased sounds at him and began gumming Chauncey again.

"Are you alright?" Hawke asked.

"I will be. Templars… Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Of course! You know you don't even need to ask," Hawke told him. "Why don't you go wash up and change into something clean? There should be clothes in that dresser in your room, still."

"I… yes," he said, both looking and sounding distracted. Anders turned back into the hallway, then turned into the library again as if he were going to say something, and then shook his head, thinking better of it, before heading back out into the hallway again.

Hawke tried to finish reading the story to Bethy, but the interruption had gotten the child keyed up, and she had little interest in settling down again. She was still awake when Anders came back into the library, his hair damp from his bath and wearing a plain tunic and pants, as well as a pair of socks with a hole in one heel. He had apparently Healed whatever damage had been done, for Hawke saw no more bruises on his face, and he was walking straighter, as if he were not in pain.

"Care to tell me what happened?" she asked him as he settled into one of the armchairs, a distant look in his eyes.

"No… it's just Templars. Don't worry, I didn't lead them right to your doorstep or anything."

"I didn't think you would have," she said, earnestly. "I'm less worried about Templar raids than I am about your safety."

"It's for the best that you don't know everything, Hawke," he said, leaning back and resting his hands on the chair arms. Anders closed his eyes and sighed, visibly relaxing.

"I can help you, Anders. I don't always agree with you, but you're doing good things and I'd like to be a part of them."

"I can't get you involved in the Mage Underground, though, Hawke. If I did, then you would draw more attention to us, with your title and your money. The best way to keep you safe and to keep us safe is to make sure you know as little as possible."

"Mage Underground?" came Fenris's voice from the doorway. His tone was flat and angry. "Is that why you were really going out tomorrow night, Hawke? You wanted to go flitting around with the Mage Underground?"

"Fenris, no," Hawke began, darting a look between the two men. "That's not what I was wanting to do and you—"

"And you're letting her risk herself? Risk Bethy?" His hands curled into fists and he scowled at Anders. "I thought you cared about her, abomination. Cared about both of them. But you're involving her in your schemes to free mages, putting her and my daughter at risk."

"I'm not doing that, you fool—"

"Hawke, how could you do such a thing?" He sounded torn between being angry and being disappointed. Hawke flinched, and Bethy started whimpering again.

"Fenris, my plans for going out tomorrow night had nothing to do with the Mage Underground. I want to work. I have a job."

"I cannot believe you," he told her, and then spun on his heel. A few moments later she heard the front door slam solidly behind him as he left, and she sighed and closed her eyes, tilting her head back to rest on the sofa behind her. Bethy started sniffling, about to cry in earnest, and she felt the child be picked up out of her arms. There was the sound of low voices talking, and when she dared open her eyes again, Anders was sitting in the chair as before, and Orana was carrying Bethy out of the room, back straight and obviously full of disapproval.

"Want to talk about it?" Anders asked, when he noticed that she was back in the world of the paying attention.

"We… quarreled… earlier. I want to work, he doesn't want me to," she said, shrugging uncomfortably.

"Knowing your line of work, Hawke, I don't blame him."

"I just wanted to go take out some Darktown gangs, Anders. It's not like I was even going to go by myself."

"He'll be back later," Anders assured her. "Orana said to tell you that dinner was ready. Let's go eat something. You'll probably feel better afterwards."

Anders was partially right: Hawke did feel a little better after eating dinner, and then a little better more after soaking in a hot, bubbly bath for an hour, but Fenris did not return that night. Nor did she see him the next day; Anders hung around the house with her, trying to cheer her up and help with Bethy in general. For her part, Bethy did not take to the absence of her father very well, and spent a good deal of time crying for him, which made Hawke feel more tense than she had already been feeling. She even left Bethy in her estate while she tried to track down Fenris at his mansion, but, although the bed had been slept in, he was not there.

Hawke leaned against the door to the one room that Fenris really used, scanning the room for any sign of where Fenris might have been, but all it told her was that he would probably return, not where he had gone. She tilted her head against the wooden door-frame and sighed heavily. She hadn't wanted to fight with him, but neither did she want him to tell her what to do, what she may do, who she may associate with. She was an adult and he needed to respect her choices. She was the city's Champion, for Andraste's sake! She was supposed to be clearing out gangs and making Kirkwall generally safer for everyone, Darktown residents included.

But the row wasn't called for, and she had made it worse, if she would admit it to herself, at least. She could have deescalated the situation, or phrased things better, so that she didn't antagonize Fenris. She could have gone after him when he left, instead of just letting him leave, especially the second time. It might not have done any good, but letting him just walk out like that had certainly not done any good.

When dinnertime came around again, Hawke was back at her home. She had left Fenris a short note on the bed in his mansion, apologizing and asking him to return, but he did not return for dinner, and Bethy's bedtime came and went without a sign from him. Hawke was fretting now, and all Anders could do was make sympathetic noises and try to distract her with chess games, and Diamondback.

When she entered the kitchen the next morning and Fenris was at the table, Bethy on his lap, the two of them eating and unconcerned, the odd tension in her chest lifted. At least he was okay. Whether they were okay would remain to be seen.