"What have you got there?" Fenris asked. Hawke had been standing there, at her desk, going through her correspondence, but hadn't moved in several moments. Instead, she had been staring in uneased shock at the missive currently in her hands.
"It's a note. From the Knight-Commander. She wishes my presence at my earliest convenience," Hawke said, finally, and Fenris cursed softly. "Well, we knew that things like this were going to happen," she said.
"Your earliest convenience will not be for several days, I suspect," Fenris said, musingly. He read over the note that Hawke had received, slowly, and shook his head. "I can see no subterfuge here. We will have to find out what the Knight-Commander wants when we find out about it."
"I certainly won't be meeting with her until after Satinalia," Hawke replied.
"Ah, yes," Fenris said, nodding his head knowingly. "It's a good excuse to put her off. You've got too much planning to do for your party."
"Our party," Hawke said, automatically. It had become second nature for them, over the last couple of weeks, for Fenris to refer to it as Hawke's party, and for Hawke to refer to it as their party. "Besides, I've been too busy out helping Aveline lately. Who knows when I'll be able to get around to seeing the Knight-Commander."
"Hawke," Fenris said, flatly. "You cannot put her off forever. I would suggest waiting a few days after your party, but no longer." Hawke made a face at him, which he pretended not to notice, but nodded her agreement to his suggestion anyway.
"Fine," she sighed, putting the note down on her desk. "Two days after. No more."
"Two days," Fenris agreed. "And you will have me there with you, in case things turn out for the worst."
"You always think things are going to turn out badly when I have to deal with the templars," Hawke said, faux-sourly.
"You are a known apostate, Hawke. I… have concerns about their… fidelity… when it comes to you."
"Look at you, worrying. Well, don't. Everything will be fine. The Knight-Commander can hardly arrest the Champion without the city rioting, after all. But this note is too polite to be anything but a request for something."
"I would put little past Meredith, right now. But perhaps you are correct, and I am being paranoid," Fenris said.
The rest of the correspondence on her desk was the usual: nobles asking for help, the common folk asking for help, letters thanking her for her help. It was just the one note from the Knight-Commander that stood out.
She wasn't sure if she truly believed, as she had told Fenris, that the Knight-Commander would hesitate to arrest her for being an apostate. Hawke was sure that if she stepped far out of line, Meredith would not hesitate to take her in to the Gallows, and Hawke would fare poorly there, probably being made Tranquil as soon as she was brought in. But she could not possibly share those fears with Fenris, who was, as he admitted, already paranoid about any potential meetings with templars. She had to stay positive for him, and for Bethy.
For Bethy was, of course, always her primary concern. As much as Hawke loved Fenris, and truly cared for him and wanted him to be happy, Bethy came first, and Fenris knew it. He agreed that it was how things should be, and Hawke knew that Bethy came first with him, as well, now. Hawke approved, greatly, and this was one subject that the two of them would always see eye-to-eye on.
Hawke glanced over to where Fenris was sitting with Bethy, listening to her sing the body part song that Merrill had taught her and nodding along. It was a sight only she got to see, really, although all of their friends had caught him playing the father role more than once, to the point where he had lost any sort of embarrassment over his more tender episodes. Still, for the most part, it was hers to see, and Bethy's to experience.
She smiled to herself, thinking of how protective Fenris had grown over the two of them. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he had been treating Hawke as his partner for a while now, and Hawke, whether she wanted to admit it or not, was treating him the same way. His protectiveness was more than just duty; it was obvious that he wanted to be there for the two of them, to take care of them and protect them both from any potential harm. That Fenris had chosen to bind himself to a mage again was nothing short of astounding; should Bethy be a mage, as well, meant he had bound himself twice over. And he did it happily, and fully of his own choice.
Perhaps that was what the difference was, she mused. Fenris had made this choice, fully aware of the consequences, and he had stuck with her. That he wanted to make their relationship a legally binding one just went one further and proved that he was content with his choice and did not view her as any sort of mistress or owner, despite what some of the nastier Hightown residents said about him.
Hawke was pleased to see that Fenris was returning her smile, all the while playing with Bethany. He was a good father, she thought, always very conscientious to praise Bethy and encourage her in her learning, always ready to step in and help Hawke however she needed it.
Enough with the letters, she thought, crossing over to where the two of them were sitting. Time to play.
"Hmm," Hawke said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.
"Hmmm?" Fenris asked, glancing around the square. It was cold enough that surely the first snowfall was going to be on them soon, but the air felt dry, and Hawke's hair was wanting to stick out in all directions.
"I suppose we should go after the assassin," she said, and Fenris looked at her as if she made no sense. "Really? Were you not paying any attention to what I was saying whatsoever?"
"I was keeping lookout," he said, somewhat defensively, and Hawke laughed and caught him up on the job: an assassin, wanted by some Antivans, hiding out with the Dalish.
"I don't relish the idea of trekking up to Sundermount at the end of Harvestmere, but at least it's not snowed yet. I suppose a job's a job, yes?"
"Antivans," Isabela scoffed. "You can't believe half of what they say most of the time."
"And you're the picture of honesty?" Fenris said, scathingly.
"Low blow there, Broody," Isabela replied, rolling her eyes and cleaning her nails with her dagger in a grand show of nonchalance.
"If we could get back on topic," Hawke said, weakly. "I suppose this means a trip up to Sundermount is called for."
"This close to Satinalia?" Fenris asked, disbelieving. Hawke shrugged.
"Well, I'm going to be busy, after, with Meredith," she said.
"You certainly wasted no time in filling your dance card, once you decided to get back in the swing of things, sweet thing," Isabela said. "But maybe not everything has to be done at once?"
"I think this will be fun. We've not gone up to Sundermount for quite some time, and I've missed being spat on by the Dalish," Hawke replied. Fenris shrugged and Isabela flipped her dagger, trying not to look bored. "Well? Let's get this trip planned!"
The hardest part of planning the trip was leaving Bethy behind. Hawke found that she was happy to get away from the party plans, but not so happy at the idea of leaving Bethany for three or four days. And that was three or four days if she managed to get to this assassin with the smallest amount of trouble; any more than that, and she risked missing her own Satinalia party, and this year she had hoped to take Bethany to one of the parades they held at night. Hawke realized it was a risk, but it was a calculated one, and it felt… right… to be doing something, not just sitting around at home playing the housewife again. Best not to let Fenris know that, she thought to herself. Best keep the idea completely to herself.
Because it was a trip to visit the Dalish, Hawke brought Merrill along, as well as Isabela and Varric. Anders was too unreliable to trust to any jobs, anymore, and Aveline and Sebastian were busy, as usual, with their respective jobs (although she was starting to get the impression that Sebastian wouldn't mind being asked along a bit more; he seemed almost bored with his Chantry duties, light though they were) and that left her pretty short on choices. But after all, this was just one assassin, and if she couldn't take down one assassin, what good was she?
They made good time up the mountain, arriving at the Dalish camp towards nightfall the day after she received the job. The Keeper, Marethari, seemed pleased enough to see Hawke and company, even if the rest of the Dalish never did particularly care for them, and allowed them to camp somewhat close to the main Dalish campsite, showing where the fresh water was and offering their fire for supper.
Although Hawke did not make use of the fire, and did not particularly need the fresh water, what with her ability to conjure water as needed, at any temperature, it was still nice to have it offered. Merrill hung back during all the discussion with the Keeper, not saying more than two words, as was her norm in that situation. Hawke knew that Marethari hoped Merrill would change her mind about the Eluvian mirror she was working to restore, and her blood magic, and that was one reason the Keeper was always so polite and welcoming to Hawke and her friends.
Shortly after getting their camp set up, but before it became truly too dark to go between the two camps, Hawke wandered into the Dalish and started looking for a young lady by the name of Variel, whom the leader of the Antivans, Nuncio, told Hawke might know where the assassin was hiding.
Indeed, she did; she seemed disdainful of anyone actually searching for the assassin, which was odd, to Hawke. She was surprised to find out that the assassin had left orders with the Dalish to let anyone hunting him know exactly where he was. Varric, who had come along with Hawke to seek out Variel and find out more about this assassin, was as confused as Hawke was about that, and they both wandered back into their camp enlightened only about where the assassin was.
Despite being so close to the Dalish camp, and in a relatively safe area, Hawke still insisted that they take watches, and volunteered to take the second watch, as was her wont. Fenris volunteered to take it with her, but Isabela and Varric quickly shot that down, laughing the while.
"The only thing you'd be watching is Hawke, Broody," Varric said.
"I guess that's fine if you want us to all get killed," Isabela added. Fenris relented ungracefully, grumbling to himself about being perfectly trustworthy to watch around Hawke. Hawke, for her part, giggled to herself over the entire thing, because it was partly true; she knew the others would never let Fenris live down the time he was supposed to be on watch with her and they wound up waking everyone up having unfortunately loud sex. Why Fenris got the blame for that and Hawke herself didn't, she would never know, but there it was.
They were up early the next day, despite Isabela's and Varric's protests over the early hour, and soon they were making their way into the cave that the assassin was hiding out in. There were the usual obstacles to face: giant spiders, which seemed to infest every part of Kirkwall. Hawke hated the giant spiders, which were larger than she was and stank horribly when they were killed, especially if they were burned, which was the best method for getting rid of the damnable things. The cave was also festooned with traps, and good ones, according to Isabela and Varric, making Hawke doubly glad she had brought both of the rogues.
Everything was going mostly smoothly until they ran into the varterral, the elven… monster…. That protected elven interests. Hawke was disturbed because they had already killed the thing once before, but killing it a second time proved no more difficult than the first was, especially not with Hawke's elemental magic boosted up, thanks to the ring that Fenris gave her.
"Now you, I wasn't expecting," said an accented voice, and Hawke looked up and over to see the man it was attached to. He was quite an attractive elf, with facial tattoos and blonde hair, but he looked too friendly to be an assassin. Although, she supposed, an assassin probably wouldn't exactly exude an atmosphere of doom. If he did, it would make it more difficult to get closer to his targets.
"I thought I smelled Antivan leather," Isabela said, happily.
The assassin laughed. "Isabela! If it isn't my favorite pirate wench!"
"Shouldn't you be dead by now?" laughed Isabela.
"I could say the same, my dear. It seems we were both fortunate to find powerful friends, no?" The assassin smiled and turned to Hawke. "How do you do? My name is Zevran Arainai, adventurer and… occasional assassin. I must admit, I was waiting for an assault by the Crows, not by the mighty Champion of Kirkwall!"
"How do you know I'm the Champion?" Hawke asked, feeling as though the entire conversation was going over her head. Nearby, Isabela lounged with a smirk on her lips. Fenris stood directly beside Hawke, his lyrium markings flaring to brightness every now and then and showing that he, at least, was not at ease. Varric and Merrill hung out behind them, both seemingly content to listen for now. It seemed as though her capturing this deadly assassin wasn't going exactly according to plan.
"Slayer of Qunari, Deep Roads explorer and a beauty to make the gods weep?" The assassin chuckled then and rubbed his chin. Beautiful, was she? Hawke rolled her eyes. "You underestimate your fame!"
"What's this about crows?" Hawke asked. "I'm going to assume you're not talking about birds."
"Oh, please, do not tell me you know nothing of the Antivan Crows!" Isabela laughed at how distraught the assassin, Zevran, seemed to be. "We are the finest guild of assassins, an object of fear throughout the land for any man with… wealthy… enemies. Or," Zevran continued, "I should say, they are. I am no longer a Crow, a fact which the guild finds unacceptable."
"There has to be more to it than you leaving the guild," Hawke protested, and Zevran grinned.
"That is offense enough to the Crows, believe me. But, I may have also killed the last four assassins they sent after me. And all their men. And! Oh! And the Guildmaster," he replied, chuckling at that last bit. Oh. No wonder he was so sought after, if he had killed the Guildmaster of the Crows. Hawke knew more about them than this Zevran seemed to realize, although not nearly as much as he could probably tell her, and she knew that killing the Guildmaster was probably a serious offense to the rest of the guild. "In fact, if you were a Crow, you could make a fortune bringing me in. You should consider a career change!" He laughed again. "No, really!"
"How do you two know each other?" she said, gesturing to Isabela, and the pirate chuckled.
"How does anyone know Isabela?" Zevran asked.
"Yes, well, keep that up and you'll never know me again," Isabela replied, saucily.
"From what the other Antivan said, I thought you'd be taller," Hawke told Zevran, and indeed, she thought he would be much more fearsome than he seemed to be.
"Ah, let me guess. A man named Nuncio has asked you to capture a… dangerous killer, yes? What did he say this time? I killed his wife? Butchered his parents? Sold his children into slavery? Or, did he tell you he was a lawman from Antiva, charged with capturing a ridiculously handsome fugitive?"
"He didn't say how handsome," Hawke replied, with a grin, and she could feel, more than see, Fenris stiffen beside her in indignation. She forced back a laugh; it wouldn't hurt him to be a little bit jealous.
"Ah, so you've noticed. I credit my high cheekbones and pouty lips," Zevran said, with a wink, and Isabela laughed again. "Bring me to Nuncio if you wish, but I warn you, he surely intends to kill you. The Crows do not like loose ends, unlike myself. But you are clearly a woman who can handle herself, yes? Why worry? So you can either tie me up, gag me, and then mandhandle me, or take me to Nuncio. Which will it be, I wonder?"
"Do we have to do it in that order?" Hawke asked, playfully, and earned a laugh from Isabela and Varric both this time and an indignant cough from Fenris. "You know him best," she said, to Isabela. "What do you think?"
"I've had better," Isabela replied, and when everyone just stared at her, Zevran not the least, she shrugged and said, "What? I'm being honest."
"I meant about our list of options," Hawke said. "Should we let him go? Or take him to the Crows?"
"Oh. I'd let him go," she said, and flipped out her dagger to start trimming her nails with it, seemingly bored with the conversation since it didn't revolve around sex.
"I guess we're letting you go, then," Hawke said, and the assassin simply nodded.
"I knew you couldn't resist my obvious charms. It's the accent, isn't it?"
"I'm not going to hand you over to someone who lied to me," Hawke said, simply. It was the truth; she was irritated about being lied to. Although the job had ended amusingly enough, so perhaps she wasn't as irritated as she might have been.
"As a suggestion," Zevran said, tapping his lips with his finger. "You might want to… deal… with Nuncio, sooner rather than later, or else he will come after you sooner, rather than later. It's been more than a pleasure, my dear Champion," he said, bowing. "Fare you well." And then the assassin was headed out of the caves, back where Hawke had come from.
"Well, that was bracing," Hawke said, turning to the others. She didn't fail to notice the disgruntled look on Fenris's face. "What? Do you think we should have taken him in?"
"No," Fenris said, shortly, and Hawke merely shook her head. He wasn't that upset over a little bit of flirting, now was he? It was completely innocent!
"What do you all say to going and finding this Nuncio? His camp isn't far from here. I think we need to have a little talk about honesty."
It was a relatively short distance to the camp –only a few hours, at the most—and Hawke was irritated when they finally arrived. Fenris wasn't talking to her at all, making only short grunts or monosyllabic words when she asked him a question. She was going to have to talk with him about this, but certainly not while they were in the middle of a job.
It was early afternoon by the time they finally arrived, and Hawke wasted no time in going up to Nuncio. With her hands on her hips, she said, "You didn't tell me that the assassin you wanted me to capture was one of your own. I let him go. Ooops. Was I not supposed to do that?"
"You let him go?!" Nuncio said, eyes widening in rage. "It doesn't really matter. This time his Warden isn't here to protect him. But you… nobody fails the Crows and lives."
"Ahhh… poor, stupid Nuncio," Zevran said, from behind them. Hawke half-turned, catching him out of the corner of her eye as she brought her mana forth and held it. She noticed the rest of her crew readying themselves for an attack, and noticed the Crows starting to do the same. So it would come to a fight, after all. "The Crowd do like that saying, but I am living proof it is a lie." He chuckled and glanced towards Hawke. "Why they insist on thinking they can kill people like you and the Warden, I'll never know."
"I tell you, it's a burden I bear on a daily basis," Hawke said, voice dripping with irritation at the Crows.
"You are nothing but a traitor and a coward, Zevran. You'll die here!" Nuncio declared, pointing at the elven assassin. One of the Crows rushed Zevran from behind and, without looking, Zevran turned and flung one of his throwing knives at the man.
It hit him directly in the eye and the man fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, dead.
"Yes, well," Zevran said, softly, turning back to Nuncio with a wicked smile. "Let's see how that works out for you?"
And then the fight was on.
It was a difficult battle. The Crows were well-trained in fighting, and Hawke knew that if she didn't get a handle on them quickly, they would overwhelm her and her crew. For one, there were more Crows there than there were of her, and while she felt prepared to take on a lone, dangerous assassin with even just herself, there were nearly two dozen Crows for the six of them to take on, and Hawke did not like those odds.
She focused mainly on her big spells, the ones that covered large areas, such as her firestorm and her force magic, and was glad to see Merrill doing the same thing. As mages, it was better for them to do damage to as many targets as possible at the same time. It was also easier and better for her to use her elemental magic out there, and she pulled on her primal knowledge as well, bringing lightning storms down. The only problem with lightning was that they had to dodge it as well; she dissipated the storm quickly, once she realized it was doing more harm than good, and focused on casting chain lightning spells on the Crows.
The fight waged on for quite a while, but eventually all the Crows were dead, some of them crispy, fried things baking in the cool and some of them slaughtered by knife or sword. None of them escaped being splattered with blood, though, not even the two mages, and Hawke knew she would be grateful for that freshwater stream the Dalish had, to clean up some. She was doubly glad for bringing an extra set of robes, as well; these were covered in blood, and filth, from where Merrill blew up several of the Crows.
"I'm filthy," she moaned, trying to get the worst of the insides off of herself as Merrill and Isabela saw to looting the camp with Zevran. These Crows weren't very smart; they kept a number of pricey items on them in the camp, and Hawke knew that her magpie friends would find good buyers for the weapons and small, enchanted objects they happened to find. The gold, too, was a good find, and she made sure it got distributed evenly (because Isabela would be sure to keep too much for herself, of course.)
It was closer to evening than noontime when they were finally done looting the campsite. Hawke stretched and took a look at the sun's position, then sighed. It would be dark by the time they reached their Dalish camp, and that meant they wouldn't have much time for hunting. Perhaps the Dalish would be so kind as to share their food? Unless Varric managed to bring something down on the way between the two sites; all they had looted in the way of foodstuffs from the Crow site was bottles of Antivan brandy. Fun, but hardly filling.
"Excellent," Zevran said, sounding very self-satisfied. "Killing my former brothers-in-arms is oddly satisfying."
"I'm glad you found it so," Hawke said, irritated all over about how messy her robes were. The assassin just chuckled.
"I've little to offer you in the way of reward, Champion," Zevran said, displaying empty hands. "Perhaps you will allow me to accompany you back to the Dalish?"
"Awww, does, Zevvie need a place to stay for the night?" Isabela asked, mockingly, and Zevran simply smiled and shook his head.
"Considerate of others as always, my dear Isabela," he said. "I thought simply that there would be safety in numbers. The Champion is a formidable opponent. I would not want to be the one assigned to her contract."
"Do you think I've got a contract on me?" she asked, suddenly intrigued.
"I doubt it," Zevran answered, honestly. "You killed the Arishok in single combat. Not many people will want to take that on, although some will see it as a challenge."
"If anyone's got a contract on you, it'd be Seneschal Bran," Varric said, and Hawke had to laugh at the image of Bran going under cover of night to take out a contract with the Crows in an effort to put an end to his most hated enemy, the Champion of Kirkwall.
"I don't think Bran likes Hawke very much," Merrill added. "He's always so rude to her. It's just like when I go to the gardens and the guards are rude to me. It's like Bran is the guard of the Viscount's office and he's got to be rude to her to keep her out."
"Very astute, Daisy," Varric said, patting her on the shoulder. "Now, let's get back to the Dalish camp. I'm not the only one wanting to wash this blood off me. Maker's breath, Daisy, you've got to watch where you detonate people."
"They just kind of blow up where they blow up, Varric," Merrill said, and the two bickered about it on the way back to the Dalish camp. Hawke followed behind, trying to walk with Fenris and catch his attention. It wasn't the best time to talk with him, but it was better than him thinking that her innocent flirting was anything but. However, Fenris seemed disinclined to talk, and so Hawke simply sighed and followed the others, grateful for the idea of getting back.
The assassin, Zevran, talked the whole way there. It seemed he and Isabela were indeed "close friends," or had been, and he was the very Zevran who traveled with the Warden during the Blight, so Varric had a veritable field day with asking him question after question regarding the travels. There had been several books published, already, about the Wardens and their travels, including by Brother Genitivi himself, but Zevran was actually there and had actually experienced it, and, it seemed, he was happy to talk.
Fenris continued to have that seemingly-injured air to him the entire evening, refusing to meet Hawke's eyes and she sighed to herself, thinking they were going to wind up having a long talk, and not a fun one, either. Once they had arrived back at their Dalish campsite it was coming on dark, quickly, and Merrill accompanied Zevran to the actual Dalish camp to see if they had any food they would be willing to spare in exchange for some of the gold they had looted today. Hawke kept trying to catch Fenris's attention, even going so far as to take his hand and tell him they needed to talk, but Fenris brushed her off each time, coming up with different excuses for things he needed to do, until Hawke shrugged and decided if he wanted to play it that way, that's how they would play it.
After the two elves returned with food, and said food was cooked properly, they all sat around the campfire, passing around some of the looted Antivan brandy. Although Hawke had decided to stop flirting with the assassin, he had, apparently, not decided the same thing, and once they were all well into their cups, Zevran leaned over to Hawke and smiled what was probably a rather enchanting and winning smile, most of the time, at her.
"So, my dear Champion," he said, leaning on one elbow. "Would you wish to… get to know each other better?"
"That depends," Fenris intoned, sounding entirely sober. "How much do you wish to test that luck of yours?" His markings flashed in the firelight, and Zevran straightened up and directed that slow smile at him, instead.
"Oh, I see. Fair enough, then."
"How about we go get to know each other better, Zevvie?" Isabela asked, and then blinked. "Wait. What about your Warden?"
"We've got a bit of an understanding going on," Zevran replied, shaking his head. "But I certainly wouldn't mind getting reacquainted with you, my dear Isabela," he said, standing up and passing the bottle over to Hawke, who was insanely grateful that she didn't have to intervene in the conversation and keep Fenris from killing the former Crow.
Isabela stood up, too, and, arm in arm, she and Zevran retired to her tent. She would have third watch tonight, anyway. Hawke just hoped they kept it down.
She glanced over to Fenris and saw him staring pensively at the fire. Hawke offered him the bottle of Antivan brandy and he took it without looking at her and swallowed several times.
"Fenris," she said, too softly for the others to hear it. His ears twitched, so she knew he could hear her. "Fenris, I am yours." His stance relaxed some, then, and he took another long swallow of the brandy before passing it along to Merrill, on his other side. "Okay?"
"Okay," came the gruff reply, and Hawke linked her arm with his. At first he was stiff, and seemed to want to pull away, but then he quickly melted against her, resting his head on her shoulder. Hawke stroked her hand down his back and kissed the tip of his ear, which made him shudder.
"I am yours," she repeated. "You know that, right?"
"I know that," he replied, voice still soft.
"Want to retire to our tent?" she asked, teasingly, and he turned his head and gave her a flat look that made her laugh. "It'll be more fun in there than out here listening to Isabela and Zevran."
"You're on," he said, and thus they retired to their tent in peace, after wishing the others a good night.
"Do I look okay?" Hawke asked, twirling in a circle around so that Fenris could inspect her. He stepped up behind her and slid his hands up her back, over the velvet of her gown.
"You look… stunning," Fenris said, lifting up her hair and kissing her on the back of the neck. Hawke shivered slightly and waved him away, laughing.
"I look like I look, is how I look," she deflected, but he shook his head.
"You will be the most beautiful woman down there, as always," he said, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her back against him.
They were preparing for Hawke's Satinalia party, the two of them getting dressed in Hawke's room. Fenris had deigned to wear a suit, which Hawke, personally, thought he looked quite handsome in, and he was even wearing shoes, although she was sure he wasn't comfortable in them. The cold, dry weather of their trip up to Sundermount to see to the assassin, and subsequent homecoming thereafter, had given way, swiftly and brutally, to a surprise of snow, the first of the season. Hawke had, therefore, canceled any idea of taking Bethy out to the parade that evening, although she certainly wasn't canceling or postponing her party. Snow on Satinalia was supposed to be good luck, anyway, and the two moons outside were shining on the freshly-fallen snow and looked quite romantic, really.
Hawke's gown this year was designed to match Bethy's, the same as last year, but both were in a flattering blue velvet design with silver trim, and Hawke's was cut in a much more "grown up" style than little Bethany's was. Still, the intent was obvious, and the three of them together looked quite lovely as very much like the family they were. Hawke decided, then and there, that she had to have a portrait come and made of the three of them. It was much better to hang a portrait of the living Hawkes up, rather than a dusty one of her grandfather that had been up since before Mother died.
Carver was early, for a change, although he would have to leave somewhat early, and he was dressed in his best templar regalia. Hawke shuddered at the familiar sword-and-sun on his breastplate, wishing that Carver had chosen someone, anyone, other than the templars to join up with. But he had made his choice, and Hawke had to respect that, no matter how much seeing that sword-and-sun activated her flight instincts, made her feel the need to run and keep running, even from her own brother.
He was, at that moment, downstairs with Bethy, seeing to his niece while Hawke and Fenris finished getting ready. He got to spend so little time with her that he seemed to enjoy whatever chance he could get to sit down and play, and since none of the other guests had arrived yet, it was the perfect opportunity for him to get some "uncle-niece" time.
"Fenris," Hawke murmured, leaning back and into him, trying to not crush her gown, but Fenris seemed to care little for the dignity of her dress and slid his hands up, cupping her breasts through the thick fabric, and brought his lips down the side of her throat.
"I have better ideas of how we can spend this time," he said, but Hawke simply laughed and pulled away from him.
"No, you don't, you devilish man. We'll be right in the middle of things and they'll walk in on us and then how can I live things down?"
"They can try," he growled, a sensuous sound if she had ever heard one. "I can lock the door, you know."
"But what if Carver needs us because of Bethy?" she asked, retreating until her back wound up hitting the wall, Fenris advancing on her. He got his hands on her hips and traced the curve of them, slid his lips against her jawline. Hawke moaned slightly and tilted her head back to give him better access to her neck, and he brought one hand up and tangled it in the length of her hair that spilled down her back, holding her in place.
"I daresay the templar can handle a small child for a half hour," Fenris replied, after a long moment spent kissing along her neck, and she felt her knees buckle and go weak.
"Fenris," she tried again, realized her voice was cracking on his name.
"Marian," he said, a near whisper that set her blood afire, and Hawke knew that this round was lost.
"Don't mess my dress up," she said, slipping her hands up to grasp his shoulders, and he grinned, a wicked thing that caused her to shiver in anticipation, and down his hands went, grasping at the skirts of her gown and hiking them up above her hips.
Fenris lifted her, grasping her buttocks, and Hawke held onto his shoulders. "The desk?" she suggested, and he grunted in acknowledgement, carrying her over to the desk and sliding her onto it, pushing back the inkwell and her journal, back against the wall. He rucked up the skirts higher, until her smalls were exposed, and then Fenris slid them aside and used one finger to slide down the lips of her labia, his own lips seeking the hollow of her throat. Hawke sighed and tilted her head back, fingers digging into his shoulders through the thick material of his jacket, and she felt him part her folds, his fingers seeking out her entrance.
His lips were hot on her throat, his teeth nipping at the soft skin there, and she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth to stop herself from stopping him. He liked leaving marks on her skin, and why stop him from leaving another? They were grown adults, and their activities shouldn't—
Her thoughts were interrupted as his thumb circled her clit, pushing down and adding just a little bit of pressure. She gasped and then moaned, bucking her hips up and forward, against his hand, and he slid first one finger, then a second, up inside of her. She was already slick, wet with want, and within moments he was sliding his fingers back out of her and unlacing his breeches, tugging them down just enough to pull his already erect cock from them.
He slid his lips up to her ear. "Are you ready for me?" he asked, his voice low and husky, and she could only nod as he lifted her up just slightly and, taking himself in hand, slid home inside of her. Hawke bit off a moan as he entered her, but Fenris did not, and his voice was full of need and want.
"Marian," he moaned, and then captured her mouth with his own, tongue thrusting past her lips to dance against hers. Hawke brushed her fingers over his neck, holding onto him tightly, and deepened their kiss, tilting her head slightly and pressing herself up against him. Fenris moaned again and snapped his hips forward, driving himself into her, and Hawke brought her legs up and wrapped them around his waist.
"Hurry," she whispered, pulling her mouth from his and pressing kisses along the shell of his ear. "You'd better hurry."
"You first," he murmured, twisting her sensitive nub gently, and what felt like electricity arced through her. Hawke could not suppress a groan of desire and she ground her hips down against his hand. They would have to hurry this, they would have to be quick, lest they be caught. Somehow, the idea of being caught added a little to the thrill of it.
He twisted again, a little rougher this time, and then his thumb was pressing down on it and Hawke felt the muscles in her stomach begin to jump in response. She nipped her way up to the top of his ear, and then suckled on the pointed end. Fenris drew in a sharp breath and held onto her hip with one hand, pushing himself up and into her, sliding back out quickly only to thrust inside of her sex again. His lips fluttered against her neck, as if seeking purchase, and he must have found a spot he liked because he was suddenly biting down onto her throat and suckling on it hard while his thumb pressed and circled around her clit.
Hawke arched her back, fingers digging into the flesh of his neck while trying to hold herself in place. She felt heat pool low in her belly, and then the tension coiled like a spring. She used the leverage of her legs around his waist to lift herself up against his hand, desperately, and then she was gasping for air, her heart racing in her chest as waves of pleasure overtook her. She shuddered hard, grasping him, and moaned, a low, throaty sound.
Fenris had stilled, for a moment, when she reached her pleasure, but after that moment he was thrusting inside of her more roughly now, moving his hand from her sex to her other hip to hold her in place better. Hawke's head lolled back and her eyes fluttered closed as his lips sought another spot on her neck, and then it was his turn to shudder, his low moans escaping his lips, her name a husky moan as he spilled inside of her.
They lay there, on her desk, both panting for breath, until Hawke blinked her eyes several times and pulled off of him, just a little away and back. "Feel better?" she asked, cheekily.
"I think I can manage your little party, now," he agreed, resting his forehead against her breasts.
"I think you managed to wrinkle my dress," she teased, pushing him away slightly. Fenris chuckled and tucked himself back in, did up his laces while Hawke slid off the desk and settled her skirts back around herself properly. "Do I look okay?"
"Isn't that the question that got us started down this road to begin with?" he asked, his own voice as teasing as hers. "Remind me to thank Carver for watching Bethy."
"He won't appreciate thanks for this," she laughed, and Fenris chuckled.
"Perhaps. But I will thank him, nonetheless."
"So it's time for my grand Satinalia party now?" she asked, checking her makeup in her standing mirror. It was, luckily, not smudged too much, and she did not care to correct the little bit that was. She would pass, well enough, and anything else could be written off as being the mother of a toddler and the Champion of Kirkwall.
It appeared that some others had arrived while they were… otherwise occupied, for Hawke, once she opened the door, could hear voices and the tuning of instruments. The musicians must have arrived, then, and just in time.
"Shall we?" Fenris asked, and offered her his arm.
"We shall," Hawke replied, taking his arm in hers, and they went downstairs, ready to celebrate Satinalia properly.