SERENA

The soothing lullaby of a lone, cooing dove echoes throughout the moonlit chantry courtyard, as Fenris and I make our way up the steps leading to the Hightown estates.

Overall, it's been a very trying day along the Wounded Coast.

Between the abominations and shades we had to fight when we first found the qunari's lost patrol there, and the confrontation we had with Lieutenant Harley and the Evets Marauders immediately afterwards, it's no wonder we're all a bit spent and not in the most jovial of moods upon returning to the city tonight.

But Fenris appears to be the worst off of all. And it's evident in his continuous stiff posture and harsh scowl.

Not that I blame him, or course. The day included almost everything he's grown to hate about magic and Tevinter, disbarring an official magister or slaver to count. Though, that tattooed blood mage—Fell Orden—definitely came close. At least in my books.

As such, I can't say I regret killing or encountering the lot of them in order to rescue the trapped city guards. I actually relished in killing Fell Orden myself; something I know Fenris and I can both agree on.

However, I do wish they hadn't set up so many traps to impede our path. They were a bugger to disarm. And now, I'm stuck coping with not only the subsequent exhaustion as a result of their pointless 'delaying efforts', I'm also forced to deal with the ensuing aftermath of their ill-timed appearance!

I look up from my boots and watch as Fenris storms into his decrepit mansion. His whole-body's still taut, coiled up, ready to snap from the day's lingering frustrations. Something that has persisted ever since the conclusion of our last battle, with no sign of diminishing.

Do I really want to risk trying to get him to talk about it all now? He's obviously still upset. But why? His bad moods never last this long after a fight, not unless it's somehow related to Anders or Danarius. And this fight definitely wasn't . . .

Maybe it was just too much for him for one day, and he needs to vent? Am I going to refuse him that opportunity, knowing that if we don't talk, he'll probably pent it up otherwise?

I sigh.

Elgar'nan, guide me.

"Fenris?" I call out as we reach the foot of the mansion's main staircase, which leads up to our private quarters.

"What?" He stops and glares back at me.

I gulp.

Nope. Not risking it. He's still pissed. What was I thinking anyway?

"It's nothing. Forget about it," I insist.

I try to weave my way around him to go up to my room, escape being my only priority now.

"Enough!" he snaps.

He grabs me by the arms and pushes me hard against the wall, his markings flaring a brilliant blue.

My heart thuds. I gawk up at him, his face now mere inches from my own. His scorching, green eyes bore into mine with a burning intensity, their unrivaled focus trapping me in a beautiful prison, preventing me from dare looking away.

"You have been avoiding me all week," he emphasizes the last word with a hint of a low growl. "And the moment you decide to try to speak, you don't. Do you not realize how frustrating that is?"

All cognizant thought I might've had grinds to a halt.

Oh Creators. That's right.

I have been avoiding him all week. I haven't even spoken more than a passing greeting to him in days! And now I've all but opened up a discussion about it! On my own terms!

A new burst of heat swirls within my cheeks.

I'm suddenly overtly aware of Fenris's every touch, every breath. Each new, mounting sensation setting my tingling nerves on fire.

Just like when he tended to my wound the night I got attacked by slavers. The night I fell into a scorching, restless sleep,and into even more vivid, suggestive dreams.

"I-I-"

The words get lost in my throat, the intimacy of the dreams returning in an instant.

I avert my gaze, unable to withstand the disarming scrutiny of his persistent stare. It's like he's tearing down all my bloody walls. And I'm just stuck here, helpless to the assault.

"If you have something you wish to say, out with it then," he demands.

He tilts his head to try to make eye contact with me again, but I just keep turning away, craning my neck farther and farther.

"Well? What is it? Have I upset you?"

He leans in even closer now.

The heat coursing through my limbs intensifies, boils over, making me tremble—making me weak. " . . . Too . . . close." I whisper, shrinking into myself, shutting my eyes, my heart on the verge of bursting into a galloping mess. "You're too close!"

Fenris's grip on my arms suddenly lessens. There's a long pause, one where I feel I might finally catch my breath. A silent yet unnerving reprieve.

But I still don't dare glance in his direction. I can't. I won't. Not after saying something . . . something like that! I can already sense his confused expression from here.

"Are you . . . embarrassed?" he asks, and my heart thrums. "Is this what this has been all about?"

The quickening of my pulse vibrates throughout my chest.

"Is looking into my reactions all you can think about?" I show him my most confident smirk to try to throw him off my trail.

"I've been able to think of you and little else," he says, leaning in closer, dispelling my front with another intense scowl. "And you know this, too." He strokes my cheek. "You are simply testing me . . . and my patience. But the wait is over. Your facade is finished."

Without another word, Fenris bends down and crushes his lips against my own.

I jolt. My thoughts spin. I can't move, much less breathe.

Everything blurs.

All I can feel is my racing heart, his hot lips pressing firm on mine.

His determined tongue delves deep into my mouth. Pushing. Winding. Twisting. Coaxing my own with a beckoning touch. The pleasurable twirling impossible to deny.

A soft moan escapes my lips in surrender to the movements. The gestures so perfect, so utterly fierce, succulent, and divine, it's as though we're devouring our first real meals together.

Like beggars forever starved of each other's touch.

A missing piece in an unknown puzzle.

Panic hits me at the startling realization.

No. No, we can't. We mustn't.

"Wait, Fenris . . . " I somehow gasp, pulling back.

But it's no use. His warm tongue dives into my mouth again. And with its reemergence, my thoughts halt, derail.

My worries melt in his strong embrace. The temptation preposterous to resist. The only thing I can do is reach out for balance. Ride out the waves. Attempt to stay afloat in this tsunami of unbridled passion. This building heat.

His hands grasp out at me, perhaps sensing the submission. They tug at fistfuls of my hair, of muscle, of skin. The possessive and demanding nature of the rough touches send electric tingles, racing down my spine.

My legs quake into a reactive sputter beneath me, like that of a newborn fawn, learning to walk.

And then . . .

I fall limp. My knees knocked out from under me.

Fenris only appears to barely notice the stumble, a well-placed hand of his on my lower back, catching me mid-fall.

He breaks off from our fierce kiss and stares straight down at me, both of us panting heavily now, our faces mere inches apart.

An undeniable hunger dwells within his close, provocative gaze. Seeking. Waiting. Threatening to pounce at another moment's notice—should I only grant him continued permission to feast.

It's both terrifying and mesmerizing.

Because one: his eyes are so beautiful, so tempting. The most gorgeous shade of emerald green, pulling me in.

But also, two: I know what accepting such an unspoken offer would mean.

There'd be no turning back. No pretending any of this didn't happen—that there isn't anything more between us. Nor would there be any stopping once we've started.

We'd both lie raw, exposed. Vulnerable in the ensuing aftermath. A curse just as much as a blessing. One I'd ordinarily opt to run away from, to deny.

And yet, in this moment, I can't find it in me to refuse.

The pull I feel toward him is too intense.

Too real.

Too . . . everything!

And if he's willing to risk it, why shouldn't I?

"You're going to regret this," I whisper with a shake of my head, my resistance breaking.

And then, unable to reject the certainty dwelling in his gaze any longer, I jump up, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him with everything I can muster.

He reciprocates in fervor, returning to our earlier dance of entwined limbs and tongue. But the motions come off more escalated now. Faster. More desperate.

His hands drop to my hips in the explosion. They knead there for a long moment, his armored fingertips working carefully into the exposed skin. They then drift lower, beneath my armored skirt, hoisting me up by the thighs, so he can carry me at his waist. Our cores brush against each other in the new position. The two so painfully close together now, I feel his bulk straining against his breeches.

An eager whimper escapes me in anticipation. My hips unintentionally clenching, as I clutch tighter onto his tufts of hair.

Fenris lets out a low growl in response.

With a bold swiftness, he pulls us away from the wall, and I can tell we're moving, heading upstairs.

But I don't care.

I can't stop kissing him, holding him. I need to be closer to him, no matter what form that takes.

I don't falter in this resolve, even when I hear him kick open his bedroom door. Something I would usually scold him for, under any other normal circumstances. But right now, I couldn't give a fig.

He plops us both down onto his mattress with a low grunt—still kissing and tasting each other. Neither of our bodies moving fast enough. Our desperate fingers fumble to unclasp and remove each other's concealed weapons and leather armor. Every piece being tossed aside with little to no regard.

When only Fenris's pants and my small clothes remain, Fenris leans down and sucks at the base of my neck. I let out a sharp gasp at the touch. A sweltering daze overcomes me, like a veil of flames cast behind my eyelids. The burning only spreads and intensifies as his assertive fingers trail downward, skimming across my rib cage, parting my thighs. Making space to welcome him closer, until our nether regions meet together in a forceful collision once again.

My body arches into his at the sensation, curling from increased want and need. The desire to strip every last bit of our clothes off to feel more of him near overwhelming. And gods, what I would give to keep that feeling going!

But then, I hear it.

A loud knock drifting up from downstairs. The raps echo in the silence, making me flinch, the passion-lidded haze waning into a panicked-induced spiral.

"The door," I gasp and squeeze at Fenris's bare shoulders, hunched over on top of me.

Fenris hisses at the touch. "Leave it," he growls, nipping at the right side of my neck.

Another bout of pleasant shivers bolts down my spine as he licks at the tender skin there once again.

But I don't waver—my thoughts unable to ignore a potential intruder. No matter the circumstances.

"Fenris!" I snap.

With an objecting snarl, Fenris springs up and stalks out of the room without looking at me, sporting nothing but his black, leather leggings to call 'protective armor'.

I consider yelling out at him—ordering him to at least take Lethendralis, if only for precaution. But the moment passes. I wait in an anxious silence, sitting half-naked and flushed on top of his bed, attempting to cover myself with his blanket, should anyone dare to come in. Although, I doubt he'd willingly let them. Not if they liked keeping their hearts in their chests.

Fenris returns a few minutes later and strides back over to the bed, his beautiful, tattooed chest almost glowing in the pale moonlight. The swirling, lyrium-infused designs, curl across his chiseled form, the entirety of the white patterns more gorgeous than I could've ever imagined. A true wintry wonder to behold.

I fight the urge to reach out and trace them with my fingertips—with my lips, my tongue.

Oh gods, how curious I am to learn how far south they go. How they look, complete with the whole package.

My mouth waters just at the thought of it.

" . . . who was it?" I manage to ask in a hoarse whisper, trying to recompose myself, to regain even a semblance of a sobering thought among this mind-blowing, lecherous heat.

"A friend of Varric's," Fenris mutters, sitting down on the bedside. "No one important."

He reaches out for my cheek again. He stares at me while stroking it for a long moment, as if probing, debating something within.

He then lies down under the covers and tugs me softly to his chest.

"Goodnight," he whispers, propping his chin on top of my head.

And no matter how long I lie awake waiting, Fenris does not continue.

The two of us sit at the kitchen table close to noon the next morning. Both of us dressed, but yet to exchange more than a few words or glances with one another. Fenris currently sits opposite me, sipping on some black coffee I brewed for us earlier. His personal favorite, especially after a rough night's rest.

I peek up at him from the plate of fruit I've been picking at.

How is it he appears even more handsome than last night? Yesterday, I could still look at him without issue. But now, I can't even do that without my heart leaping into a fluttery mess!

The mere thought of last night again gets my blood pumping. The prior heat and memories return. The sensations spread throughout my entire body, warming up my arms, my cheeks, my lips.

Mythal's mercy, what was I thinking? Why did we do that? How long have I been warning myself about giving in to such impulses? Did I really forget the past so easily last night? The danger? I must've been out of sorts.

That's what I try to convince myself, but I know deep down that's not the truth.

I've been waiting for something like this to happen for years. And with Fenris to boot. There's no point in denying it. The elf has always caught and held my interest. There's just something about him, drawing me in, tempting me into a spiraling madness of desire I've tried to refuse.

And then that willpower collapsed last night.

All from a kiss.

I recall Fenris's very first kiss from yesterday—the way his tongue forcefully entered my mouth, claiming mine in an endless battle for domination.

My breath hitches in the back of my throat.

I lower my head and push at my temples. No. No. Stop thinking about it! Stop. Thinking. About. It. You are the Hero of Ferelden, not a blighted, blushing school girl!

I peek up at Fenris again, my mind an utter mess. Any energy I might've gained from the earlier coffee already dissipating.

He doesn't seem to have noticed my internal turmoil. His attention remains engrossed on drinking his coffee, while staring out a nearby window.

I admire the way his silvery-white hair shines in one of the window's rogue beams of sunlight. The way the coloring matches his elegant, white, winding tattoos, which make him appear more ethereal and otherworldly, like perhaps one of the forgotten, immortal elves of old.

It's breathtaking.

Creators, he's breathtaking.

How in the Void did I ever think I could resist such a man, if this is all it takes for me to fall into a hopeless, puppy-dog daze like this? You'd think I'd have more control. That I'd stop acting like a hormone-crazed teenager.

I groan inwardly at the accuracy of the comparison, upset by my own weakness.

Mighty Hero of Ferelden, indeed. I sigh. I need to get my act together. I have to speak to him about last night—about why he stopped, about what it meant. If I don't, I might just go mad, if I haven't already.

Anxiety weighs down on my gut. I swallow hard and sit up straight, my posture more rigid than I would like. "Fenris?" I whisper.

He looks over and focuses on me. "Hm?"

I purse my lips. Oh, gods. His eyes are on me again. No, I can't do this. I can't ask.

"Never mind. It's nothing," I whisper.

I shouldn't bring it up . . . I don't even know if I want to bring it up. If I should.

"Speak. What's on your mind?" Fenris persists.

I jolt and fidget with my hands in my lap.

I guess there's no avoiding it. Not now, anyways.

"Last night. Why didn't you . . ?" I trail off. I can't finish the sentence. Otherwise, my cheeks might just burn off.

Fenris puts his half-empty cup of coffee down, a deep, thoughtful look crossing his expression. "I . . . don't want to rush you—to rush this," he says. "Do you not feel the same?"

My chest lightens and constricts in a matter of seconds.

Then a thought hits me: how do I feel?

Do I want him to continue?

Do I want him to stop?

I don't know. Frustration, confusion, relief, and disappointment wage war within me, all at the same time. Each fighting for supremacy, but none earning a clear win.

"No-No, you're right," I whisper, choosing to believe his delaying decision to be wise. "I was just . . . curious. Thank you, Fenris. I appreciate the . . . consideration."

Fenris nods. He pauses and clears his throat, avoiding eye contact by looking down at the floor now. "I should . . . apologize," he whispers in an unexpected, wary tone. "I lost control over myself last night, after I promised to not do such a thing. I would not hold it against you if you were angry with me."

"No! I'm not angry!" I insist, perking up, giving him a quick shake of my head. Hoping to dispel any doubt. "Just . . . jostled. That's all. I wasn't expecting it, but that doesn't mean I didn't . . . enjoy it."

A building blush creeps up to the tops of my ears, the feverish spike impossible not to notice.

"I'll keep that in mind." He smirks at me, and my heart throbs in the erupting blaze.

"Lets-Lets keep this from the others for now." I stand up and step away from the table. "I don't think I'm ready for Varric to start writing another book about us just yet."

"Nor I," Fenris chuckles in the deep timbre that elicits delightful tingles in my ears.

He rises from his seat and closes in on me, speeding up my heartbeat with his increased proximity.

"Should we go and meet the others?" he asks and caresses my cheek. The gentleness of his touch almost makes me melt into a puddle in his arms again.

But no. I won't. I can't. Not like this. Not while my head and emotions are still such a mess.

I need to get my act together. Figure out what I actually want. Gain more control, if I hope to ever reclaim my sanity.

Steeling my mindset to this decision, I clench both of my fists by my sides, my determination unyielding. "Yes. Lets."

Authors note: Thank you to all who have stuck with the story until now! I'm finally getting back into the habit of writing again. If you have any feedback or questions, please leave a review (I'll do my best to respond)! I've never really tried writing heavier romantic scenes like this one before, so this was a bit of a challenging chapter, and I still don't know if I got it quite right like I wanted. But I can only go up from here!

Moving onward, I'm aiming to post once a week. These next few chapters will be very plot-based oriented (all unique from the games), and I plan to answer a lot of lingering questions about Serena and her past (as well as her relationships). So, I ideally don't want to leave any of you hanging for too long.

On to the next chapter! Stay tuned! :)