Since I can't reply to guest reviews (damn you people), here's my messages for you.

Secret Companion: Dun, dun, duuun. YES. Varric is mad. Hawke's not gonna get away with this!

Cheers : Oh yes, the cider and apple jokes will come soon enough. Not while he's drunk, you'll see why.

(Enchanter) Tim: Yeah, not just right now. Hawke still had some sense in her. But all in good time, my friend. You think she's all that controlled? NAH. I'll tease you some more, 'cause I'm evil like that.

NOW! Thank you for your reviews. I AM COUNTING ON REVIEWS. I really can't think straight and continue writing without feedback. So please do it if it's not too much to write even "Good" or "Bad". Thank you ever so much.

Here you go. Morning after and shit.

Varric was so terribly drunk, so sodding horrifically besotted, a butt-ugly abomination could have kissed him and he wouldn't have defended himself. In that particular tempered with train of thought, he thought about the cider that only Fenris had drunk and that he felt on Hawke's lips and all he could think of was – Sweet seventh son of a seventh son, that means I practically kissed that elf. Oh no…

"Caution, fluid going back up," Varric said in terror as he felt his insides going up in a rush.

"Quick – the can next to my bed!" Hawke shouted and the dwarf immediately rushed to it. After he finished spilling his insides out, he sighed and got up. Now that the dizziness started to fade away just a little bit, he noticed the air in her room was way hotter, even though she kept the door partly open. No…it can't be.

"Feeling better?" Hawke asked Varric sweetly as he came out.

"Much, much worse," Varric said in a horrified state.

"Well… I'll pretend I'm not that hurt that the first thing you do after I kiss you is to vomit," she said meanly and narrowed her eyes.

"Believe me, it wasn't you," Varric said grumpily and sank back in his armchair.

"Liar," Hawke said childishly.

"Varric, your turn, Fenris has to do you, I mean, ask you -" Isabela said eagerly and Varric flinched.

"Truth."

Fenris frowned and thought of a good question. "Have you ever frequented the services of a … hard-working woman?"

"Never," Varric said firmly. "Well, not a woman, anyway." Everyone scowled at him. "I'm a bullshitter, Andraste's ass. Gosh. What do you take me for?"

"A strange drunk, to say the least," Hawke muttered grumpily. "Isabela," she nodded in her direction in wait.

"Truth," she said and grinned.

"Is it true that you're a lying selfish bitch, beyond all that friendly demeanour?"

"Of course," Isabela said and grinned. "Just as my mother left me."

"Hm. I'm sensing a story there," Varric said perceptively.

"My round is over," Isabela said cunningly. "Next time, maybe." Then she looked at Fenris. "Well?"

Fenris scratched his head and muttered tiredly, "Fine. Dare."

"Aw, that was so easy," Isabela almost purred mischievously. "I dare you to either tell me or show me – or us – how big you are."

He stared at her blankly as if he didn't hear her, "What?"

"Either whip it out or measure your manhood," Varric translated bluntly.

Fenris blinked a few times in weariness. "What?"

Isabela smirked. "Maybe Hawke can tell us. Did you grab something else other than his butt?" Hawke choked and spilled her coffee and Isabela started laughing, "Are you going to exert your NO muscle on this one?"

"N to the O to the everlasting negative," Hawke said firmly.

"That long, huh?" Isabela said in amusement.

"No, I really can't quite put my finger on it yet," Hawke joked as she saw Fenris extremely bewildered.

"What are you two talking about?" Fenris asked insistently.

"Quick, cover Broody's ears, he's too young for this kind of stuff," Varric said sarcastically.

"Do me a favour and clarify this before I clarify your insides out in the open," Fenris muttered aggressively.

"Asking me to do this is like apples and oranges," Varric said purposely vaguely.

"Do me a favour Fen and tell me how biggy is the thing you make tinkle with," Isabela said childishly.

"…Tinkle?" Fenris asked in even more confusion.

"Oh he's hopeless. You were right, Varric," Isabela said and sighed.

I'm not sure about that anymore, Rivaini, Varric thought.

"So… moving on?" Hawke intervened swiftly.

"I believe it's your turn to be asked or dared, name-day girl," Isabela said. "I want to do you."

"You want to do a lot of things," Fenris said a bit angrily out of nowhere.

"I decided I no longer want to do things that depress me," Isabela retorted meanly. "And now he gets it… You were just playing dumb, weren't you?"

Varric intervened. "I want to do Hawke."

"Oh, now you like me? You weren't that crazy about me a moment ago," Hawke said meanly.

"My apologies for trying to make room. I thought it would be more fruitful," Varric said charmingly.

"Whatever. Truth," Hawke said firmly.

"Do you like cider? Honest truth," Varric demanded cunningly.

"I don't know," Hawke said and frowned in confusion. "I've tasted it once or twice, but I need to try more to be sure. It's kind of too sweet and sour at the same time. I don't exactly know on which of those to focus on, so it's a bit intense. Lovely, but intense."

Might as well have replaced "cider" with "Fenris". Gotcha, Pantaloons, Varric thought. Also, Dear Varric, please remember this by morning. P.S. Bathe your teeth 'til January.

"Can we stop with this ridiculous game?" Fenris asked grumpily while brushing the hair away from this forehead.

"Hawke, may politely ask if we can so very courteously smoke within the premises?" Varric asked mockingly.

"I am inclined to acquiesce to you request," Hawke retorted mockingly.

"Great googly gratitude," Varric said charmingly and got out a few too many cigarillos and some he dropped on the ground.

Hawke laughed. "Just how many are we? One, two, three, four, six –"

"That's you seeing double," Isabela said in amusement.

"This 'coffee' isn't working the wonders," Hawke said grumpily.

"It will once you also smoke," Varric said firmly. "Catch."

She didn't catch it. A minute after she found it under her armchair, she got up and said in a husky voice, "Oh, I can't wait. Once we reach Antiva, I'll get me a thousand of those."

"Once you reach what?" Isabela asked in outrage.

Hawke and Varric became pale and looked at each other. "Oh, right… I've been meaning to tell you."

"The day when you leave, I suspect," Isabela scowled and crossed her arms.

"No," Hawke said and coughed. "Still making arrangements. I haven't decided who I'm going to take."

"Hawke, if you don't take me with you I'll –"

"No need to make a scene," Hawke said grumpily and lit her cigarillo. "The matter was not who I should take, but rather who wants to come."

"Then it's settled," Isabela said while uncrossing her arms. "Who else is on your list?"

"The handsome dwarf, right here," Varric said and raised his hand.

"And his best good-looking and taller pal," Hawke said and blew out a tornado of smoke rings.

"Well, of course you, you're organizing it," Varric said grumpily while lighting his cigarillo.

"She means me," Fenris said nonchalantly while drinking his coffee.

Varric's smoke came out without being blown from his open hanging mouth. "Well I'll be a nug's uncle."

"He can't live without me," Hawke said sarcastically. "He admitted I'm his guardian angel."

"Bullshit," Isabela said and frowned. "You did?"

"I said no such thing," Fenris said nonchalantly and kept drinking his coffee.

Hawke simply grinned to herself and poured the Antivan brandy in her coffee.

"Hawke, who would have thought," Isabela said eagerly.

"That's he's a lying bastard? Nope, not me," Hawke said sarcastically while pouring the brandy.

"No, I mean what you just did," Isabela said and smiled. "I take it you like your coffee just how you like your men? Strong and Ferelden."

"What in blazes are you talking about?" Hawke asked bewilderedly.

"A coffee mixed with liquor is called Ferelden Coffee. You didn't know?"

"I didn't even know Fereldens heard of coffee," Hawke said and chuckled.

"Well, was I right at least or do you prefer something more exotic?" Isabela asked cunningly.

"Isn't coffee itself already exotic?" Hawke asked nonchalantly.

"Don't dodge the question," Isabela said firmly while Fenris started to frown.

"What do you want me to say?" Hawke asked in annoyance. "Bah."

"How do you like your men?" Isabela asked again.

Hawke caressed her maxillary. "Let me make it clearer for you – I like my men how I like my dragons – strong, dangerous, hot-headed, with an aura of a grand mystique …" Isabela was going to say something but Hawke interrupted her and finished "And extinct."

Fenris started to tense up and almost choked on his coffee.

"So you like girls?" Isabela asked bewilderedly.

"I don't like anything," Hawke clarified in annoyance and then quickly deflected. "I really need to open up a window." She got up and went for the nearest one.

"She's bullshitting us," Isabela said quietly to Varric.

"You think?" Varric asked sarcastically. "What do you say, elf?"

Fenris raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "I think it's none of our business"

"I bet she has this secret lover," Isabela said and Fenris swallowed heavily, "Separated by the Blight, went their separate ways and now she found out where he is and that's why we're going to Antiva."

Varric frowned. "That actually makes sense. It would certainly explain two years of solitude. Certainly explains why we're going so far north. Good thinking, Rivaini."

"What are you two whispering about?" Hawke asked in annoyance as she came back.

"Whorehouses in Antiva City," Isabela quickly saved it.

Sunrise…

An hour passed as they started talking about different idiocies, but eventually Isabela had to take Varric steadily and proceed to walk together hand in hand like two drunken singing idiots back to their home.

Fenris remained outside at the main entrance where Hawke was leaning and watching the two rogues stumbling on each other's feet. He didn't know what to say, he didn't remember what he wanted to say… he knew it had something to do with an apology, but his mind was oatmeal and as he saluted her goodbye, he stumbled on his own feet and fell.

"Maker's saggy testic – no, I don't want to throw up too. Fenris!" Hawke shouted in concern and quickly dragged him up. He growled and his eyes were opening and slowly closing again, so she sighed and put his arm around her shoulder and carried him back into her house. "Alright, straight to bed with you." She widened her eyes and immediately regretted the way she said it, but he only muttered a husky "mhm" with his eyes still closed.

So… put him to bed with a blood mage, with me or in Mother's empty bedroom? Well… she won't be coming home until tomorrow afternoon, but still… No, if he throws up or something, I'm the one who's screwed, not him. He's her precious little elven "son-in-law" hypothetical candidate. Ugh.

He was heavy, probably because he had about ten pounds of liquor in his system. She dragged him to her room and tried to put him on the bed. He frowned as she sat him down and he started coughing heavily. Hawke shook her head and chuckled. She grabbed his legs and lifted them up on the bed and pushed him down to the pillow she carefully beat beforehand. Ok, now what…no pads, no gauntlets, no chest plate… I think that's enough… Or maybe…NO. Pfff, armchair or table? Definitely armchair.

"Hawke," Fenris's hoarse sickly voice resounded in her ear as she tried to go to the door.

"What?" she asked sleepily and turned around.

He turned on his side and had his head face-down under his arm and faintly pointed with his other weary arm for the empty side of the bed and she chuckled. "No. You keep the whole thing. You need it more than I do."

While still with his face into the pillow, he banged the mattress remarkably faintly with his fist and she lifted her eyebrows. "Well, with that tempting offer…" she said sarcastically and came by the bed.

Fenris muttered in the slowest grumpiest voice ever, doubled by the fact that his face was buried in the pillow, "My head… it's as if a carriage full of iron ore drove over me."

She lied next to him, keeping a polite distance, "Well, who told you to drink all my brandy and mix it with cider," she said and chuckled.

A funny pause. Then he muttered through the pillow, "Me."

She smirked in amusement and shook her head, "Drunken idiot."

Whatever he said next through that pillow in the dead voice, it was either I'm your idiot or I'm a midget. Neither seemed… well, maybe the last one he could have probably said.

She exhaled in relief, for her name-day was finally over and to be honest… it was the most fun she had in a very, very long time. She turned her head to gaze at Fenris again, who looked positively dead in that position. He almost looked, well… hauntingly adorable. Cut it, Hawke. Sleep it off. You won't remember this anyway. He won't either. Well, since we won't, it's not like… Oh shit, he's not breathing. She turned him around and he opened his eyes and frowned colossally, turning his sleepy and now child-like green eyes to his right to look at the disturbing force.

"Sorry," she whispered. "Go back to sleep."

He growled and frowned in that drunken-weary haze of his. He seemed like such a child, it was baffling. She couldn't for the love of apples… apples. Cider. Kissed Fenris. Then kissed Varric… NO.

Shit. Big flaming coffee-coloured shit.

"Hawke," Fenris muttered with his eyes closed.
"Mm?" she muttered back quietly.

"Promise me," he said and inhaled, "that if you remember any of this, you'll tell me. Not like I did a while back, when you were… when you were… and I was such a … how do you call it… Flagitium*."

"I promise. And I'm sure you weren't a flagitium," she chuckled.

"No. A… brutum fulmen*, vishante tan stultus berbex, quomod'me supportis vel quid in me vides sensus non habent …" He kept muttering angry quiet things in Tevinter with his head turned away to the other side, until finally Hawke leaned towards him and placed a hand over his mouth.

(*scoundrel/dirtbag, *empty threat, *I was a such a damn stupid fool, how could you even bear with me or what do you see in me, I have no clue)

"Shhh," she whispered. "Sleepy… somnus! Somnis fututus, now!" He chuckled in a hoarse voice. "What? What did I say?"

He brushed his hair away from his forehead and smiled with his eyes closed, "You said fucked in one's sleep."

"Oh my."

He turned to his side, facing her and buried half his face in the pillow. "Don't worry," he half-muttered ineloquently with his eyes closed, "I will not do that to you." She chuckled and shook her head at how funny he was like that. "In your sleep."

She stopped her chuckle and turned pale. "In my sleep," he finished flatly. Jee, what a creepy and honest way to tell her he was having wet dreams about her. She was still amazed though, that he remained so polite and knightly even in his worst state. She wondered if she should ask him questions so he would answer honestly, but then she felt guilty, especially since he had to suffer a whole night of truth or dare with the overly prodding Rogue Duo.

Better sleep it off. She closed her eyes and drifted off instantly, then the pitch-black started to spin or shake with luminous colours and she felt dizzy again. No, not the Fade…

The Fade

Not again… As a mage, half the times she dreamt she was forced to be conscious through it. Which was pretty fun, hauntingly exciting, over the hill elating as a child only newly introduced to this concept. But as so many years passed, it was tiresome and frustrating. Because even as she was lucid, she wasn't fully in control of her body or mind. At least not for a good half of any dream. There was of course the times she was very conscious and she would walk around and whistle until something came up, but then there was the radiance and reflection of the physical world's recent emotional prints … refracting into the Fade, where she was. That meant that she could dream over and over again the same event that had occurred into the house. She would sometimes dream of her mother as a young woman, she even saw her and her father once as he climbed on her window to see her. But most of it she didn't remember, because those were other people's memories and one needed a certain amount of time, practice and discipline to keep focus and remember it. And she had no real interest in such things.

Her own memories, however, were another matter… She could easily live those memories over and over again, not exactly in the same manner, since the Fade was distorted just as emotions, impressions and memories were tempered with, but nevertheless, the thing she was dreaming now was quite clear in its central subject…

Fenris shoving her into the door, kissing her neck and teasing her to the cruelest most unrelenting corners of hell. She was aware of it being a dream, but it didn't make things any easier and she lost herself.

"Fenris I – ah," she gasped shortly, "they come at any minute."

He growled impatiently and turned her away from the door to slam it shut. "Let them come," he said firmly and brought her lips to his in a harrowing second. She let herself encaged in his firm grip and thrust her fingers in his hair, as he walked her backwards to the bed. She sat down as he bent forward to kiss her further, placing his knee on the edge of the bed and making her lie down. Oh, the dreaded sodding gods of the tumultuous underworld, she couldn't stop it. The feeling of his strong physique overshadowing her and the way he kissed her, it was like an enrapturing whirlwind, a dance of friendly forces, for lack of a better word, for it was no competition. Every powerful kiss, every opening and closing he exerted with grace, enjoying every bit of it, making every move count. She thrust her nails in his back and held him firmly, as he moved his maddening evil moves on her neck. From where he knew that she liked being bitten, only those damned conniving undergods knew. He bit her so well, just enough not to leave a bad mark and just long enough for her to lose the wide reserve of her control and moan, at the sound of which he would grin ferociously to no end. Maddening, just maddening. Yes, that was exactly it…

Hawke caught his face and stopped him, making him look at her. "You're drunk," she said firmly.

"And the sky is blue and the grass is green," he said ironically with a low voice.

"Which means we should stop," Hawke said assertively, all the while brushing his soft white hair.

He frowned again, just like he did in reality, and said in an aggressive, almost childish manner, "I don't want to."

She sighed and lifted her back up and rested on her elbows, "You have to fight this feeling."

He growled. "This feeling? You mean the feeling I've been having for a good two years now? That my brain is going on vacation when you're around and when you're not all I can think about is you?"

"That's just lust," Hawke said defensively. "Alcohol doesn't help diminish it."

He shook his head bitterly and got off of her. "Kaffas," he cursed aggressively and sat on the edge of the bed. He turned his head behind. "You think I can't tell the difference? There is a fine line between that and what I feel," he said and turned his head forwards again, gazing at the door. "Do I want to take you here and do it over and over again? I do," he said, then turned his head behind to look at her. "But that's not the central feeling that's killing me every time I see you, Hawke."

She rose from her elbows and sat next to him. "What are you saying?"

He sighed and looked down. "I am saying, that I want you with me all the time. You could just sit here," he gestured towards her, "and speak nonsense for hours and I would be content just to listen to you," he said in a calmer tone, then smirked bitterly. "You could bark at me and call me names, insult me, spit your venom at me and I still wouldn't mind, as long as you're there."

"So you like my voice? I rather enjoy it myself," Hawke deflected in amusement.

He gave her a murderous look and took her by the hand. "I want you with me," he said firmly and searched her eyes insistently. "Do you understand?"

Hawke swallowed hard and looked into his determined green eyes. "I understand."

Fenris sighed and let her hand go, brushing the silvery hair away from his forehead. "I apologize. I did not want to force you into anything. It's just-"

"You didn't force me into anything, Fenris. I complied, remember?" she said in amusement.

"That you did," Fenris said calmly and gave her a bitter smile. "Although it is possible that you did it for different reasons than my own."

Hawke smiled warmly and shook her head. "What do you take me for? Isabela?"

Fenris didn't look at her, instead staring blankly or eyeing the door angrily. "Certainly not. But I don't know what you want."

"Then stop overthinking it," Hawke said and smiled.

"I let my reason go and act on instinct, you stop me. I calm down and speak about it, you stop me from that too," he said in amusement and turned his eyes to her with a smirk. "You're impossible."

"I don't know what was in your head when you chose me," Hawke said while shaking her head and chuckling. "You certainly have some death-wish."

"On the contrary," he said calmly. "With you, it feels like a life-wish."

"I'm not the one to grant you freedom," she said defensively. "You have to find it within yourself. Don't take me for some exciting get-away."

Fenris laughed bitterly. "I don't." He inhaled deeply and looked at her. "You don't need this kind of trouble."

"You'd be surprised," she said bitterly. "But that's not importa-."

"What's important is that I enjoy your presence," he said in his usual calm-but-angry tone, then looked at her, "more than you know," he said and contained his smile. "You didn't see that one coming, did you?"

Hawke rolled her eyes, "I'm not blind. But I'm also not … intrusive."

"I know," he said firmly. "I do highly appreciate that."

"I don't want to - … I don't know how to say this," Hawke said while struggling to find her words. She sighed and looked down. "I'm an abstinent troubled mage with a very… bad past. Let's leave it at that."

"And I'm a troubled former slave and the only memory I have to show for begins with the agony of receiving this, this filth," he said bitterly while gesturing at his arms. "And the horrible times which followed," he said and looked up. "If I'm not the one to understand, nobody can."

"You've never told me that," Hawke said and widened her eyes.

It dawned on her that ever since she decided to train her powers more thoroughly, perhaps her connection to the Fade became stronger, which meant not only that she lived the memory more effectively, but the emotional winds in the dream could have also caught on Fenris's genuine psyche and shoved it in her face clearly. In part, it could have been Fenris himself who was talking to her, although she wouldn't stick her hand in the flame about that idea.

He looked at her firmly, "I wanted to tell you. A few days ago, but then …" he sighed and pressed his eyes, "My problems are not yours."

She looked at him quietly and he pressed his lips before continuing, "Unless you want them to be. As unwise as that may sound," he said with a raised eyebrow and then looked away. "I certainly had a tough time admitting it to myself."

"I want them to be," she said quickly, then looked away, "But I don't want my problems to be yours."

Fenris smiled calmly, "That seems unfair."

"Cautious and cowardly begin with the same letter," she said subtly with a bitter smile.

He sighed and seemed like a struggling child, "As you wish."

"No, see? Stop saying that," Hawke said in annoyance. "It makes me feel like I'm your master or something. Please tell me you don't see me as a twisted reflection of that."

Fenris didn't answer. He remained lost in thought and shook his head briefly, "I did not overlook that aspect. I've been compliant for a long time before I realized I wanted out. You would be horrified if you saw the way I was back then."

"You didn't really answer my question," she said perceptively.

Fenris scowled at her wit, sighed and took her hand. He played with her small fingers as she watched him in silence. "Maybe," he said and paused, as he noticed the remnants of the sword slash which she got from grabbing the other end of his weapon recklessly. He touched the scar gently and shook his head. "Maybe if you were friendly, helpful and annoyingly nice, maybe also if you weren't a mage, I would have felt some pleasurable illusion of compliance to your cause. But most of what you did in the beginning was to bark at me, kick me to make my own decisions and you didn't prod me about my problems," he said and squeezed her hand gently. "In other words, no, I don't think I'm engaging in an unhealthy delusion of following you like I'm your slave."

"But wouldn't you feel like a slave precisely because I'm a mage, I was the leader of our group and I was mean to you?" she asked bewilderedly.

"No," he said firmly. "You were mean, but you listened to me. You took into account my point of view, welcomed it and you involved me in making decisions sometimes. Your snarky behavior was just a defense." He smirked at her. "Am I wrong?"

"We're not talking about me here," she deflected. "Continue."

He sighed and smiled, playing with her hand. "All I am saying is that you give people the freedom to choose what they enjoy." He titled his head and lifted his eyebrows as if he was laughing at himself. "And I enjoy following you."

She frowned and he corrected himself while chuckling, "As a friend. Not an employee, not a servant, nor a slave."

She sighed in relief, but started becoming lucid again. "Good, although you can't know for sure." You're still partly just a figment of my imagination.

"Of course," he said and smirked. "What I am certain of however," he said as he scooted closer to her and put her hand on his chest, while squeezing it, "Is that I want to be here. For you, with you, without you, however it may be. I want to have the certainty that you are somewhere and continuing," he said firmly, then looked at her with a raised eyebrow, as if he thought himself a fool. "Does that make sense?"

"Yes," Hawke chuckled. "It means you care."

"I find these verbs of affection fairly vague," he said and kissed her hand slowly. "Naming a feeling is more misleading than describing it."

"Describe away and I'll define," she said in amusement. "That's what I'm here for."

"You would have an easier time defining them by my actions," he said and chuckled. "How would you define this?" He simply kissed her cheek.

"Hm," she said in amusement. "I need further proof." He kissed her other cheek knightly. "You… like a full cheek with skin."

Fenris chuckled and took a hold of her face, "Let me make it clearer for you." He slammed his lips into hers with more control than before and she could feel the rebellious courtesy with which he operated – he initiated things, stealing kisses like that, but didn't take her as if she was his thing to play with. At least not when he was a full on horny drunk. She wrapped her arms around him and responded with a powerful kiss, in-between starting to pant from the pleasure. He pressed her against him and bit her lip, this time not by accident. And that's all it took... she entwined her tongue in his and it felt like setting ice on fire, that much was clear. They felt that drive again and it occurred to her that in a way, they were far beyond driven. They opened a door with no way of return when they first kissed.

She finished with a long and fiery peck. "I conclude that you want to do this for quite a long time," she said childishly with her arms still around his neck.

"You're not far wrong," he said in amusement. He placed his chin on her shoulder and embraced her tightly. She sighed bitterly, but enjoyed every second of that firm hug.

"I was afraid of that," she said bitterly while brushing her fingers at the back of his vest and feeling his soft hair on her cheek. "Not that I needed my mother to say this, but, you're a good man, Fenris."

She heard him from the back and felt an arrogant smirk, "I know. And it's a nuisance. Just like you."

Hawke moved her head away from his shoulder and looked at him, "You signed your funeral, old man."

"I know," he said and gave her a broad smile. "What do we do now?"

"Now I wake up," Hawke said bitterly and kissed him again tenderly. "And I'll have to face you again."

Fenris's physique started to fade away like it was shattered to dust by the wind and the luminous nuances in the room began to melt turbulently, enveloping her in the painful whirlwind of the subconscious tempest full of slashes and swirling colours, characteristic to the Fade.

Late afternoon, Hawke's Room

"My head…" she whispered out loud without realizing. The light… OH, the fucking LIGHT. It blinded her eyes and pinned painful, exquisitely… gruesomely painful shots in her head. Never, never drink brandy again. That much was clear. Although, something else became clearer as she opened her eyes...

She was buried in Fenris's chest, with a hand wrapped around his back and a leg so impertinently and lazily climbed on top of his. As soon as she realized his head was resting and tilted on hers and his overgrown hair was suffocating her face, she couldn't for the love of this newly discovered coffee not sneeze the hell out of it.

"Benefaris," he muttered while still sleeping. Thanks, I guess… Oh, yes, thank you for not waking up, what am I thinking. She blinked repeatedly and tried to think of a good way to get out. As she tried to duck her head out and get her hand away from his back, he started to growl in annoyance and ended up landing with his head on her chest and holding her tightly.

Great… Now what. She was amazed that him, an extremely vigilant elf whose ears flinched like a mabari at even the faintest sound or movement, didn't wake up. Not only did he not wake up, but he moved even closer and "suffocated" her with his grip, as if it was natural, as if they were married for ten years and slept in the same bed. She could laugh at this sight for months if she was in a better state of functioning. And at him. But now, the situation was particularly tight.

"Fenris," she said intentionally louder. "Yo, Fenris." No answer. Maker's balls he slept like the dead. "Look, apples," she said and pressed her eyes at how ridiculous that sounded. She would regret what she was going to say next, but his grip was too strong for her to get out, almost as if he was actually dead and in a state of rigor mortis. "Hunters."

"Where," he asked firmly and opened his eyes. "Ah…" He covered his eyes and frowned in pain from the light.

"Sorry. There was literally no other phrase that would wake you up," she said with guilt.

"You could try slapping me like a normal person," he muttered grumpily in a fiercely hoarse voice.

"I don't want a hand in my chest," she said in amusement. "Well, through," she corrected herself.

"As if I'd have the strength for that," he muttered with his arm still over his eyes.

"As if I would think that far ahead," she said grumpily and smiled.

Fenris groaned in annoyance and uncovered his eyes, then his face suddenly grew stiff and pale. He became aware of his position, his surroundings and his defenses were probably coming back. He looked to his left and his right, meeting her awkwardly smiling face. "How did I end up here?"

"Don't you remember how you pleaded and begged to take you to my bed?" she lied mischievously.

"What?" he asked flatly, masking the tension and terror in his tone.

"Yeah, you cried that you couldn't sleep alone in that mansion of yours and I took you in. We got down to naughty business, but then you fell asleep right in the middle of the act," she continued with her playful story.

"I did what?" he asked and widened his eyes, rising from the bed.

She laughed childishly, "I'm kidding. You fell on the ground when you tried to leave and I carried you back. Merrill's sleeping in the other room and Mother's bedroom is off limits, so… here you are."

"I- oh…" he said and scratched his head, feeling very foolish and terrified. "I am…," he stuttered and looked like he was about to give a speech to a thousand people, "You are generous."

"Yes, I'm a hive of honey and mellow," she said sarcastically and rose up too. "How's your head?"

"It's just… not," he muttered in annoyance and looked at her with wondering eyes, as if he realized something. "Forgive me, Hawke."

"Forgive you for sleeping here or forgive you for being an impulsive horny drunk?" she asked in amusement.

His face grew even stiffer and his eyes were filled with shame and guilt, "Yes, I remember. For both."

"You kinda feel stupid now that you have nothing to compensate with right? Magic Ball of Everyone's Fortune," she said sarcastically.

Fenris rubbed his eyes and pointed at the fireplace, "Look down to your right."

Hawke frowned in confusion and looked to her right and saw an extremely furry purple rug beside the fireplace.

"You?" she asked in surprise. "I didn't even notice it."

"You said you've never dared to wear purple, let alone admit you love it," he said grumpily. "So I concluded stepping on it is more appropriate, and ironic."

She chuckled, "Good thinking. Oh… really good thinking. You gave me a shitty gift first so I'd like the real one better."

"I'm full of surprises and wonders alike," Fenris said ironically.

"Yeah you are," Hawke laughed. "Don't worry. You're forgiven."

He gave her a crooked innocent smile, "Am I?"

"With those puppy eyes, how can I say no?" she said sarcastically. He probably thanked her in his mind that she was sarcastic. "I gotta see if Merrill's up. Don't go anywhere."

"Why?" he asked in suspicion.

"I mean, don't leave my house. Coffee, breakfast, stuff like that. Mother won't let you anyway."

He widened his eyes and got up from the bed immediately, as he realized that her Mother could be home and come in any minute. She laughed at his awkwardness, "Oh, you're adorable."

"I'm not adorable," he said grumpily. "Now, tense, foolish, horrified. Those I am."

"That's exactly what makes you adorable," she laughed and was about to open the door. He stopped her firmly. "Oh relax, she's probably not even home."

She opened the door and stepped carefully, checking the premises. There was a small table-like object with food and tea on it. "Ok, she might be home."

Fenris swallowed heavily and went back in the room, gathering his things. "What's your rush sailor?"

"This was unworthy of me," he said firmly.

"Wait," Hawke said in annoyance and stopped him by the arm. "Mother can't be home. She was supposed to go with that drunken Orlesian countess to the country side. She probably just came back from Gamlen's to change and left me a late breakfast since she knew I'd be in no state to function."

He pressed his lips. "Are you certain of this?"

"Yes, now stop fidgeting. You're giving my hangover an extreme case of paranoia I don't even need. And don't apologize again or I will fireball your ass."

Fenris chuckled, "Fair enough."

After they saw that Merrill was gone and they sat at the table and after Hawke repeatedly told him to eat whatever and how much he wanted, he kept staying silent and looking ashamed.

"You're starting to depress me, Fenris," Hawke said in amusement. "Change your face."

"I left my spare faces at home," he said sarcastically.

"Well don't forget to bring them next time," she said firmly and drank her tea.

Fenris swallowed heavily and remained quiet. He thought he would find some relief the next time he saw her and things would become clearer. But that night didn't help at all and if anything, it made things even worse and more confusing. A million questions were darting at his head, but he couldn't find the courage to ask any of them.

"Oh, by the way, you can start packing," Hawke said calmly. "We're leaving in three days."

Fenris frowned. "How long are we going to stay there? And where are we going exactly?"

"We're going from here to Starkhaven, cross the Minanter River, then go west for Ansburg and keep going until we reach Rialto and Antiva City. So let's see, it will take about two weeks to get there and maybe a week to stay in the capital. So you do the math."

"Is this simply a pleasure trip or do you have something in mind?"

"I need to find someone," she said vaguely. "An old friend, let's leave at that."

Kaffas, maybe those drunken idiots were right. Maybe she did have some old flame that she lost in the Blight and only recently found out that they were stationed in Antiva. Maybe that's why she didn't want to talk about what happened between them. Then again, why would she bring him along? Because it was dangerous and it would be useful for him too, to get out of Kirkwall for a while, of course. He starting to brood his eyes out and decided to it was time to leave before he exploded.

"I will see you in three days then," he said flatly and got up. "Thank you for everything, Hawke."

She caught up on his behavior, but didn't have the courage to make him stay or ask why they wouldn't see each other in those three days. She thought it was best for her too to have a break before being stuck in the same carriage and premises for a month. Good thing she was such a smooth one in these situations, she thought sarcastically.

"My pleasure," she said warmly. "We leave at 5 in the morning. Do you want me to come get you or –"

"I will come by your mansion beforehand and we can go from there," he interrupted her and nodded knightly.

"Alright," she said and got up from her chair. How do you say goodbye in these situations… "Have a good one!" she said and immediately wanted to hit herself.

"You too," he responded flatly and she watched him leave.

Damn.

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to review!