Okay, as of this chapter this fic is now rated M and the rating has been changed to reflect this. There is most definitely smut in this chapter, that being said...for those who prefer not to read it...I've segmented it with a warning. Also, this entire chapter is from Hawke's POV.

Thanks and hope you enjoy the yummy bits. Let me know what you think!

Hawke's POV

Drip.

A figure, large-backed and cloaked in shadow, paced up and down a row of cells. Up and down. Up and down. Like a windup toy soldier.

Drip.

Such a big, strong boy; got a sword and everything. Men like him didn't pay mind to shadows, they just knew nothing would be there; 14 stone of muscle and armor saw to that.

Drip...

Drip...

Drip…

Certainly not one of Aveline's men; only the best and the brightest she'd say. Some of them could even count to triple digits. Without using fingers.

This one didn't even look.

Just up and down, up and down, up and down.

Minutes passed. It was amazing what you could learn by simply watching. Like how a grown man still shoves a beefy finger up his nose then wipes it on his trousers.

Cream of the crop, this one.

Drip…

Drip...

I looked down at the sliver of moonlight dusted with snow around a growing puddle that glistened like kerosene in the light.

It was cold and the puddle was hardening already. I kneeled.

Choir Boy had been right and so very, very wrong. Murderer or hero; the only real difference is who you ask. Kill the family man who's been poisoning the village and it's cheers and medals all around…

Now tell his little girl what a bad, bad man he was after he tucked her in for her nappies.

A hero is just the person that was willing to get their hands mucky.

Drip…..

Drip…..…

Drip…..

A trial would have been a spectacle; a mass of oohs and awws from the comfort of padded seats and the haze of half a bottle of wine.

Always knew she was an odd one, they'd say. Shame about poor Seamus but-

And there would be a 'but'. There always, always was. He deserved better.

No. Somethings are more suited to the darkness; not everything looks better in the light.

I looked down.

Drip…..

Drip….

No emotion. No hate or guilt; Choir Boy was right there. Hate makes it corrupt, guilt makes it wrong. Emptiness makes it a job.

Just another job that only Hawke will do.

Cooling blood dripped from pale fingertips onto the tiniest of daggers. In that blood was the Qunari; a boil on the arse of the city and, in that blood, was the Viscount sitting listlessly on his empty throne.

In that blood was a girl.

In that dagger was a choice.

No price is too high for eternity.

At least you've got that to look forward to. Helped you along there, I suppose.

I stood. Morning would arrive and, along with it, light…but there would be no trial. The Viscount will doubt, Aveline will suspect and life gets the bloody hell on with it for another day. Always another day.

These days, it never ceased to amaze me every morning I woke and Kirkwall wasn't on bloody fire. Problem is, were already up to our damned necks in kindling and the Arishok has the torch.

Best not to look overly flammable, yes?

I slunk through the shadows to a stack of barrels and hefted myself up onto the rafters, staring at the guard down below.

Perhaps I should send a fruit basket? Anonymously, of course.

High profile prisoner's wrists gets a little too acquainted with a dagger on his watch? Poor sod. Still, what's done is done.

And it needed to be done.

Quietly, I climbed onto the ledge and out onto the roof; it was snowing again. In the shadows of a parapet, I sat and watched.

Kirkwall was a shitehole, right enough, but it was my shitehole. Its streets might smell like a diseased sailor's pits but they were the streets my family walked on every bloody day. I'd be damned if there'd be pitchforks and wriggling bloody bits everywhere.

Most of Kirkwall can't spell their own blighted name but the little kittens want to talk politics. And the politicians don't know their arse from their face half the time.

Though, the Arishok can hardly be called a politician. A rabid battering-ram perhaps? Mr. Broody-Face-Siege-Weapon? Sir Testy?

The Mad Ox.

Politician's talk. Right now the best that could be said is that the Arishok is still listening.

In one swift move, I vaulted over the side of the roof and slipped down what was essentially a glorified draining pole to the ground. Or…well, fell really.

Son of a blighted, whore tongued-bloody ice—fuck!

"Graceful." Hark, the snarky shadows. Bloody elf.

I glared up, arse burning and thumping like a damned drum on fire.

"Fuck. Off."

There was a flash of white in the moonlight and, suddenly, a hand. A cheeky hand. I imagine the owner of that hand smirking like a mad kitten covered in cream. But it was always there when I needed one.

Fenris pulled me up easy as pie and let me lean against him as I rubbed my sore arse.

"Bloody ice in bloody Kirkwall." I mumbled. "Anyone come through?"

"Not a soul in sight." He drawled. "You do realize that neither the Arishok nor the Viscount will be pleased come tomorrow."

"Good." I hobbled through bloody Hightown like a lame beggar. Already, I could imagine that visit.

Anders? Be a dear fix my bruised arse? What happened? Oh, might've fallen…off a building. What building? The bloody Winter Palace now lay those damn hands on, love.

"Mummy's not trying to keep the children happy," I chirped as we made the turn toward the estate. "She's trying to keep them from destroying their toys. Help me up here."

Instead of offering his hand, the bloody glow lamp swept me up into his arms and started up the steps.

"Andraste's perky tits, Fenris I'm sore not bloody broken."

"Shut up, Hawke."

I cocked my head and batted my eyelashes sweetly. "I'm sorry, love. Have you met me?"

Fenris smirked, his fingers—splayed across my thigh—tightened.

"For once, Hawke," his voice never ceased to make her knees all wobbly. "Do as I say."

Well, when he put it that way, in that…awful, growling, wine-scratched voice like pure velvet I—

—bloody elf. There's only so much a girl can take, you know.

So, I hung there like a limp doll as he carried me up the stairs to my room. Well, I might've fondled his hair a bit. Only a teensy-weensy bit. Thieves honor.

Once inside, he set me down carefully on my feet and I flashed him my best pout. Not the pout of a

petulant child but of a very soft, very wound up lady.

"Going to help me out of these clothes too?" I asked innocently. The tips of his ears flamed the most precious shade of scarlet.

"Would you like that, Hawke?" He rumbled, stepping closer and his fingers grazed the clasp of my bodice.

By the Divine's holy arse, yes!

"Mmm hmm." I cooed happily resting my hands on his chest. "Don't tease me, love."

With a soft pop the first clasp came undone beneath his touch and it damn-near took my breath with it.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

One by one, his fingers worked their magic and my bodice slipped to the floor. I was very much still clothed; covered by a blouse, belts, leathers and boots. Still…

Maker that was delicious.

"Shall I continue?" Fenris smirked down at me through a waterfall of white. My fingers twitched, begged to thread in that hair and just…pull.

"Do you want to?" I sounded pathetically breathless.

"Yes." There was no question, no wishy-washy bits just…yes. While I struggled to catch my walkabout breath, Fenris cupped the back of my head in his hand. I shivered with absolute bliss as his calloused thumb grazed my earlobe.

"More than anything." He whispered; his thumb left a blistering trail across my cheek and over the corner of my lips.

"But…" I prompted, eyes half-slid closed in utter happiness.

Fenris chuckled softly, leaning in. Despite that, he looked troubled; there was a lingering darkness in his eyes…sadness.

"Do you?" His words washed over my lips as a wave of desire and heat. "There is not a man in this city who would not deal with demons for one night with you…"

"Untrue." I teased those naughty lips with words of my own. "Choir Boy's trouser tent's practically got Bell's name stitched in."

"Hawke, I—"

"Fenris," I all but growled his name, curling my fingers under his belt. "The last time I did a bit of belly-bumping, I was half-passed pissed and packing for the deep roads."

I slipped my thumbs under the hem of his leathers and stroked his skin. Purr for me kitten…

Fenris sucked in a soft hiss; his eyes darkened in that way that made my knees go all wobbly; danger, passion, need, swirling and curling together like a tempest behind those jewel-green eyes.

And I do so love shiny things.

"That's your fault, sweetness." I whispered breathlessly, dragging my lips along the tense line of his jaw. "I've been such a good girl for you." I cooed then sighed happily feeling his hands settle on my hips and squeeze.

"Have you?" Those sinful fingers dragged lazily up my spine.

"Mostly." I groaned as those fingers curled along the nape of my neck. He was so infuriatingly gentle as if he thought I might crumble to little bits any moment. Sweet but not exactly what mummy wanted.

"Sometimes," With a practiced hand I unhooked his belt and tugged, letting the belt fall to the floor. "At night when I'm all alone…lonely and cold…"

Fenris swallowed hard, tightening his fingers in my hair almost painfully. I sighed happily.

There we are, sweetness. The flames, the heat, the fire crawling across my skin; I needed more. My lips dragged over the lob of his ear, I let my tongue dart out and drag slowly along the curve.

The sound he made was divine; like a caged wolf starved for meat.

"Those nights," I whispered. "I can be very, very…naughty."

"Madeline."

From those lips my name sounded sinful in the best way. No one else…only you, love. Only you can say my name and make me like it.

With a soft, breathy sigh I covered his hand at my hip with my own and urged him to let up.

"Let me lead, kitten." I cooed into his ear then stepped back. His fingers curled in deeply, a strangled noise escaped his lips and I smiled.

"Relax, Fenris." His tense fingers relaxed as I caressed them with my thumb. "I'm not leaving. Watch."

Smut ahead...

As he watched, I pulled the tie from my braid and ran my fingers through it letting it spill down my back. The way his eyes flared made me want to say bugger it all this and jump right to the good bits.

I licked my lips as I let my hands fall to the first button on my blouse and flicked it open.

"Do you like that, love?" Another button popped open and another and another. "Do you like my hair down?"

He nodded. "You know I do, Hawke."

I smirked. Guilty. Button by button, my blouse came open and I slipped out of it. It pooled on the floor by my feet followed by two belts boots and leathers.

Reaching out, I stroked his tight jaw with all the gentleness of a doe.

"Fenris." No teasing this time. Everything poured into that word as if I'd laid myself bare, raw before him. It sounded…like me. Not Hawke. Madeline.

His eyes softened as he brushed his knuckles over my hip.

"Tell me what to do." His voice was pleading, rough.

I smiled, stroking up his jaw to curl my fingers in his hair. Sometimes, early in the morning, when the sun was just starting to rise above the sea and we both smelled of wine and let it be our voice…

He would talk about…before; about Danarius. About how he slept on the floor at the foot of his 'master's bed like a bloody dog.

How he preferred that to the alternative.

"What do you want to do, Fenris?"

"I…" He swallowed thickly. "I want to—"

With a frustrated growl he crashed his lips onto mine. Like hot, frenzied flames they seared every inch they touched.

Screw the bloody Chantry. Screw those glorified goats and the blighted city that housed them.

All that mattered, all I gave a bloody fuck about right now was him. My elf, my warrior; the man the world would never break, who wore his cracks with fierce determination and let them fuel his fire.

My fingers played blindly with the clasps of his armor.

"That's bloody—" I whispered breathlessly as he trailed hot kisses my jaw. "On there—ah—isn't it?"

Fenris chuckled warmly against my skin.

"It's armor, Hawke. It's meant to stay on."

"Well I want it off."

He laughed again. "Your wish is my command."

Shit. I shivered as the cold air hit my bare skin as he backed up to undo the clasps. Shit. Shit. Shit. I was shaking and it wasn't the bloody cold.

The instant that plate came off, I leapt wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

"Fuck." Pain sizzled down my back. The bloody elf laughed, sliding his hands gently under my sore arse to hold me up.

"Impatient."

"You have no bloody idea." I growled. "Bed. Now."

Fenris laid me out gently on the mattress, his fingers crawling up my side and I threw my head back as he nipped along my collarbone to my breast band.

With a frustrated noise he looked up at me though strands of white.

"How does this contraption work?"

"It's a breast band, Fenris," I smiled sweetly. "It's meant to stay on."

He smirked, thumbing a nipple through the fabric and making me shiver.

"Well I want it off, Hawke."

Leaning up on my elbows, I undid the tie at my back and eased out of it as Fenris pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it aside.

Every plane, every crease of his hard chest was contoured in shadow and glow from the firelight. Lyrium vines glittered like diamonds in sunlight across his abs to the V of his hips.

Bloody beautiful basta—

I sucked in a hiss as Fenris dipped down and closed his lips over the peak of my breast. His fingers trailed down my quivering stomach and brushed against the fabric of my under clothes silently asking permission.

"Maker, yes."

A blissful groan tore from my lips as his finger dipped between my legs and over my throbbing core. He rubbed me in soft, tight circles then slipped further, teasing at my entrance.

"Does this please you?" He whispered, leaving a blazing trail of kisses from my breast to my neck.

"Fen—" I gasped as his finger entered me then again, feeling a sharp nip on my neck.

"Answer me, Madeline."

"I—" can bloody barely think. "Need you. Now."

I bit my lip to keep from cursing as he withdrew then I felt his fingers curl around my underclothes and I watched him ease them down my legs.

This was it, then.

All the teasing, the near-kisses, the heated touches just inches away from the fun bits…

And now, here I was finally and completely bare to him feeling his eyes rake over me like a thirsting man to water.

"Unfair, sweetness." I purred and stroked up his pant leg with my toes and brushed against his trapped hardness.

Fenris groaned; just the sound of it nearly tipped me over the edge. He worked the ties of his leathers and pushed them down his hips, I helped ease him out with my toes.

Well, what do you know? I thought, seeing my beautiful elf in all his glory before me. The Maker does exist.

"You're drooling." He smirked down at me.

My eyes snapped…up…and I smiled. "A girl can admire, can't she?"

He hummed softly and leaned down, his lips hovering just inches above my own. When he kissed me it was heated but tender, his lips danced over my own as he eased between my legs.

Then he stilled.

"Tell me." He whispered hoarsely into my lips. "That you want this."

Of course I bloody well want—oh…

Reaching up, I brushed aside damp strands of white to meet his eyes.

"I want this." I spoke the words he needed to hear, gave my consent wholly and completely. "I want you."

A soft smile painted his lips. "So do I."

I curled my leg around him and urged him on with the pad of my foot. Fenris nestled into the crook of my neck, nipping, sucking leaving kisses that tingled like mint.

"Oh—fuck." I hissed as he entered me with a husky moan.

It'd been so bloody long since I felt that delicious burn, that heat inside me. And this was Fenris. My Fenris.

"Hawke…" He moaned through gritted teeth and thrust hard, fully sheathing himself in me.

My back arched off the mattress with gasp, my nails dug into his skin enough to draw blood as I struggled to catch my breath.

Too long, apparently.

When I opened my eyes, Fenris was staring down at me with a deeply pained expression.

"I've hurt you." He whispered with strangled breath. "I never wanted—"

I shushed him with a finger and kissed him softly. "It's alright, Fenris."

"No—" He started to withdraw. I locked my legs around his waist in a vice grip.

Bugger that.

"Like I said, sweetness." I massaged his back and played with his hair. "Been a while…but now," I pressed a kiss on his lips. "I feel so full."

Fenris let out a silent gasp; I felt his breath on my lips.

"So hot."

He groaned.

"So, so wet." I whispered, gently thrusting my hips and moaned at the friction. His lips parted, brows draw.

"Andraste's flaming tits, Fenris." I growled. "Just fuck me."

Fenris, the good boy that he was, thrust his hips gently but deeply and I rewarded him with a sweet mewl.

Hear that, love? Do you hear how you make me feel?

He started moving, writhing above me inside me. He kissed along my jaw, up to my ear where he moaned my name.

All I could hear was his heavy breaths and grunts that mirrored his thrusts. The room smelled like desire, like sweat and sex; it all curled into a little, buzzing ball that I was just dying to pop.

And then he thrust in deep at just the right angle and that ball burst into a thousand tiny pieces.

I threw my head back moaning like a Blooming Rose whore.

Fenris cried out as I convulsed around him and I felt him spill himself inside me. He stilled, collapsing onto his elbows, breathing into my neck.

Smut end...

I wove my fingers into his hair, cooing softly.

He laid there in my arms for endless seconds, minutes…maybe hours in silence. I didn't care, I was happy as a babe with candy just stroking his hair.

Fenris tilted his head, nuzzling my clavicle with his nose.

"I…" He paused. "Would you like me to…go?"

My heart did a flip-flop. Oh, love…

"Do you want to go?"

He gripped me tighter in response I was more relieved than I would admit. Tonight, I'd set out to kill a woman, to keep a broken city ticking and I'd done it.

I can't say I'd been looking forward to my own company.

Fenris shifted in the bed to lie beside me, draping his arm across my naked stomach. It was sweet, tender and fiercely protective. The soft glow of his lyrium tattoos illuminated our bodies, tangled in my abused sheets; it was beautiful. He was beautiful, in every way.

Tonight…. tonight I'd expected to cuddle up with a bottle of Antiva's finest until the sweet song of unconsciousness carried me away to happy land.

Instead, I drifted to sleep easily; safe and warm in my elf's arms, shielded in his glow and with a smile on my face.

And not even this accursed city can take that from me.