Don't worry ^^ This chapter I dedicate to all confused people. (And no more raging please, maybe you should take a breath and cut me some slack, because the last chapter was basically the realistic thing that would have happened if Fenris started to narrate. First anger, then turns on angsty brood, then calms himself down by thinking of something else – ends up remembering embarrassing scenes, he excuses himself before actually returning to his original point of filling in the gaps).

So here's what really happened.

This is dedicated to Naya. Antivan trouble, here we come.

I am back. Forgive me for my departure. I felt too penetrated, as if one dug so deep in memories that one reached the censorship line to the unconscious. And I don't fancy the unconscious.

Now that I've calmed myself down only very little… what was I saying?

Ah, yes. Filling the gaps this impossible woman confused you with. And yet I am no better. I've lost myself in pointless overthinking and flew so far away from the main point that… yes, yes, laugh at me. Perhaps there's some irony in this. Yes, that is nothing new, sadly.

I apologize for my outburst. Since I am not blind with rage for maybe another few moments, I don't seem to see the point in taking over so directly. It would certainly help not straying away from my point as well.

Banavis fedari. May the ground rise to meet your feet.

Day 3, Piazza Di Azuro, Antiva City

"You're wasting time. There is no evidence to support that Armand is up to something," Fenris said grumpily as he followed Hawke through the piazza.

"Which is why it's going to be so cool when I turn out to be right," Hawke said cockily.

"What are you intending to do? You wish us to follow him to eternity through this place until maybe, just maybe we find he's up to something?" Fenris asked in annoyance.

"Fenris…" Hawke said with a smile. "Don't you know me by now?"

"Unfortunately…" Fenris said grumpily.

"Ok, he's looking, shht, turn back, pretend you're admiring that monument," Hawke whispered rapidly and turned back.

"… I don't see the point in this," Fenris whispered flatly.

"That's because it's on your head," Hawke said meanly and kept pretending to look at the Procession of Magi.

"Couldn't you simply ask him of his business? You're a veteran at sniffing around where you don't belong," Fenris said grumpily.

"Learned a new word now, did you?" Hawke said in annoyance. "Let's make it a tradition. Word of the day for Fenris's daily word count!"

"I'm afraid to ask what the word of the day is," Fenris said grumpily, looking in different directions as Armand was still wondering around the piazza.

"Hm, something that would suit you," Hawke said in annoyance and nudged him to stop turning his head. "Thundercunt."

"Charming," Fenris said grumpily.

After they've lost themselves in speeches about mages and worldly injustice and after Hawke's charming and graphic tribute to the Maker in plain sight, they caught up with spying on Armand.

He turned around a dark corner in the narrow market street and just when Hawke and Fenris got to it, the only thing they saw was a cloaked figure rapidly vanishing and Armand turning around and eyeing them murderously.

"Oh, fancy meeting you here," Hawke pretended gracefully. "Did you see the deal on Antivan perfumed candles? Very nice."

Armand's brow arched up and could almost reach the heavens. He wasn't buying jack shit.

"I tried to stop her," Fenris said grumpily, blowing her cover with no shame.

"Somehow you always find people to gang up on me," Hawke growled angrily at Fenris.

"Would you stop with the paranoia?" Fenris asked in annoyance. "You reap what you saw if you spy on people. Unsuccessfully."

"You didn't help on purpose," Hawke said angrily. "I will not forget that, Fenris. Your ass is going down, you sodding starlit thundercunt."

Fenris snorted at her creative swears, and by the time they realized they were hissing at each other, Armand rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "What do you want?"

"Oh, just a few million questions answered," Hawke said firmly. "Starting with – how do you get your hair to be so dashing and shiny?"

"I wash it," Armand said sharply. "Any other survey questions?"

"Just one," Hawke said and smiled. "Would you let me help you with whatever you're doing?"

"I imagine involving yourself in other people's business is what you're best at," Armand said grumpily.

"She tends to excel at it, yes," Fenris responded while shaking his head.

"Helping people is what I'm best at. And killing them," Hawke said confidently. "You got anything like that?"

Armand looked at Fenris sharply, seeming like they had exchanged a telepathic agreement. Somewhere on the verge of 'She's not going to let this go, is she?', is what Armand's eyes said and Fenris responding, 'Implausible.'

"Be at the Occhio del Corvo tomorrow night. We will talk there," Armand said sharply.

"Be at the what? Where's that?" Hawke asked in confusion.

"If you don't find it, you're not made up for the job," Armand said flatly and went to turn around. "Now if you would ever so gracefully get off my back?"

"I'll need a ladder," Hawke said sarcastically.

Day 3, Nighttime, After the song in the fountain scene

"What have you learned so far?" Fenris asked with a faint smile.

"Well, that's an arrogant question!" Hawke said in amusement and repeated his question mockingly. "What have you learned?"

"Say whatever comes to mind," Fenris demanded calmly.

Hawke looked away with a deep look which could only mean 'I have no idea where my legs are right now'.

"Are you alright?" Fenris pressed in a soft voice and squeezed her hand tighter. "Hawke."

He put his arm forward as though to embrace her. His eyes were clear and she could see no malice at all in them.

"You've given me courage," she said finally.

"For what, may I ask?" Fenris responded calmly.

"To continue being myself… and all that it implies," Hawke said bitterly while looking down. What a look of wonder came over Fenris's face. He could sense there was a magic implication in her words, but not much else that he could really put his finger on, until she turned her head to him and gave him the rare warm smile she would only give to her closest.

"Do you have all you…" Fenris asked softly, then stuttered, "all you need?"

"I'll give you three guesses," Hawke said with a large grin.

Fenris nodded. What more was there for them to say? He couldn't help it much longer.

She didn't give him long explanations, no sorcery or science, either of which would have been so easy for her.

But as they gazed at each other, it struck them with full force that there had never been moments in their lives such as these, magnified in this very moment, and the message they subtly gave one another was irresistible. So great had been their loneliness, so great had been their longing to be understood.

But now, with all of Antiva City receiving them into its finest wonders, they did not feel such a thing. They had each other to ramble on about anything they desired to, and they both had Varric to share their joys with, even if the burden of their ambiguous relationship remained private.

Indeed, they were enjoying the Perfect Time. Fenris, as a man with much less experience than a tree, and with only less than half of his life perhaps that he could remember, wondered if this corresponded to the prime of life – those years you are strongest and can see with the greatest clarity, those years when you can give your trust most truly to others, and seek to bring about a perfect happiness for yourself.

Hawke – that was the love of his perfect time. Although it was a stunning promise, that of the hunters to always find him no matter where he went. Fenris resolved to ignore his, only for a moment, not to allow it to impede him in the slightest as he enjoyed his life.

Fenris sought to hold her fast to him with his right arm.

"Who are you really?" Hawke asked playfully as he let him slowly drag her closer.

"I'll give you three guesses," Fenris repeated her sarcasm with an evil grin, dragging her closer by the arm until they his eyes could pierce her only inches away.

"Inconceivable! Are you that brat prince from my dreams?" Hawke asked him sarcastically, raising her voice boldly over the music.

"Perhaps so," Fenris said with an arrogant grin, "if you let me kiss you."

To his astonishment, she allowed it and he bent to kiss her. It was a strong embrace and the heat of his body inflamed her. He covered her with feathery kisses while she held onto his arms as the only pillars of her balance, as if at any moment she would come to an outburst. As if at any moment, she couldn't take it anymore.

Alright. Forgive me, but I have to take over shortly.

Then, with a violent throb I realized she could take no more. I drew back, but not before I pressed my lips to hers and held the kiss for a long moment. I felt guilty, but I thanked her with my whole heart in my mind. I had not the slightest doubt that she had been protecting me all this time with her distance. I knew that she had.

Yet it didn't feel like it should. And then I withdrew, powerful, clear-eyed, thinking this was the kiss of my death if I had pressed it further.

Two strong women flickered in her eyes. One wanted to come back to me, the other was keeping her paralyzed. Yes, the two Hawkes inside her that I had come to both enjoy. Her dual nature only made her more insane and impulsive, but at times it managed to fiercely and completely balance her. This was not that time.

In a second, she was gone. She rushed out of my arms and ran for it. More the fool I was, that it did not occur to me in the same second just how ridiculous this was, so I went after her.

"Hawke!" I screamed angrily and ran after her down the street. "Hawke," I shouted again and rushing my pace as fast as my drunken strength and impaired judgement could give me. I was angry. The night was damp and the wind did not help me one bit to clear my head. My legs were tiring out, but I knew that I had all the advantage to overrun her. She turned to the right in a dark alley and there all hell became.

Kevesh.

Hawke climbed onto a ladder in the dark alley and hopped onto the roof, overseeing the city and not catching any glimpse of the elf. This was not a good sign. She rushed on the roof and jumped off of it. Although it wasn't a leap of faith, shivers came down her spine as she thrust her sword into the large curtain of the building and went down. As the sword finished cutting the curtain in full, she landed hard, but rather quietly on a bunch of old boxes. It was quiet. Almost too quiet. She tried not to breathe and turned her body around in different directions, because the darkness from the end of the street up until the other end which led to the plaza was much too eerie and silent.

A violent throb pierced her heart as a set of gauntlets caught her by the shoulders and shoved her into the wall. "You are like a child," Fenris's voice came with powerful eyes and a violent frown as he squeezed her shoulders.

She was trembling and panting from fear, but he grew impatient and his softness from just a moment ago came to an end with his shoving her against the wall. "I'm sorry," she said flatly without looking into his eyes.

"You are not," Fenris said angrily.

"Forgive me," she said again, without looking at him.

He had little strength or patience enough to comfort her, but he knew what she needed. It was hitting him again and again like so many violent blows that his world was dashed, that all these moments were always coming to an end he didn't like, that she could slip away at any second and keep him struggling and wondering why in the name of Heaven was her problem.

"You are killing me, Hawke," Fenris growled aggressively. "What do you need of me that I can't give you, hm?" he shouted.

She closed her eyes and scowled, without much defence against his aggressive demeanour, because she understood him. "I don't know what to say. If…"

"Yes, if?"

"If I cannot keep you from running, I run first."

His eyebrows joined into a surprised and sorrowful look, followed by him looking down with a powerful sigh, "Ah, yes, if you cannot protect me."

He fell into silence. Again, it did not seem possible that this had happened to him. His soul was burnt. His spirit was burnt. His will was scarred and his happiness ruined yet again.

"No," Hawke said finally. "We'll do this your way. Let's go back home. I'm sorry. I'm being a prick."

"No, you aren't," he said angrily. "You're only more afraid of being left here alone than you are of going. You're afraid that if you stay behind or you say the wrong thing, I'll never come back to you."

Hawke nodded her head as if Fenris forced her to admit it. Then she scowled. "That's not perfectly it. There are other reasons. But is it so wrong of me to think this way?"

Fenris hesitated and his face remained struck by utter sadness. For a moment it seemed as if he would actually just leave, but then his eyes grew colder and more beautifully calm. He shut his eyes tight and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close to his chest. "Yes. No."

"Or I don't know," Hawke said in amusement, returning his hug and running a hand through his hair. "Those are the three guesses."

"Perhaps I do not wish to leave," Fenris said flatly, brushing his gauntlet gently on her back. "Perhaps I mean to stay until you tell me to go. Has this ever crossed your mind?"

"Is it such a surprise that it hasn't?" Hawke asked bitterly. "Forget I said anything."

"I can't forget," Fenris said flatly, "I cannot lie to you."

She didn't answer, instead she lay paralyzed in his arms and tried not to burst. He felt it and a bitter frown drew on his face as he put his hand on the back of her head and leaned it against his own. His lips came to her ear softly as he whispered, "It is my fault. I started this."

"Don't give me that," Hawke said angrily and drew back from his embrace. Powerful eyes screamed at him to withdraw his statement. "You think I wouldn't have started it just as well if you hadn't found the courage?"

His eyes went to their lower right in a sad frown as he hesitated, "No, I… yes, perhaps you would have."

"I wonder who's the bigger idiot," Hawke said angrily. "Me for running for your sake or you for lying to yourself that you wouldn't."

Her statement was bold, not very accusatory, but it struck a rage in him that drew all over his dark impatient face. "Really, truly, that's your excuse?" Fenris shouted and stretched his arms. "I had a few dozen enough opportunities to run like the wind and be done with Kirkwall."

"It's not that," Hawke said and shook her head. "Although you said quite enough times that you were thinking of leaving."

"Then what?" Fenris growled sharply. "Am I supposed to believe you are struck with guilt? That you're some former blood mage seeking penitence? Or perhaps a former assassin with extreme rage issues? What? What could it be that would keep me from accepting you little impossible woman?"

Hawke appeared to be hit again and again by those words and grew tired. She had her eyes closed and frowning, then finally interrupted him. "Shut up."

"And I refuse," Fenris retorted angrily. "What now? You wish me to leave?"

"No," Hawke said quickly. "Not unless you are certain that's the wisest choice."

"You are uncertain," Fenris said perceptively. She didn't answer, more so just looking in different directions and swallowing heavily. "Perhaps I need to make it clearer for you," Fenris said angrily and closed her mouth with his lips in a harrowing second. It was a long kiss, powerful and soft, that made the ground simply move away from under her feet. There was no lust or malice in it, not even anger. This was the time to give him a sign. Either continue or withdraw. The wait was not painful. As soon as Fenris stopped from pressing his lips on hers any longer in the kiss, she grabbed his back and brought him back to her. Mother of permissions, she was tired of this ordeal, but this wasn't over, she knew it.

Regardless, she tightened her grip and left him with his guard down in his surprise, forcing his mouth open and in a split second, his tongue moved serpentlike inside. He held her neck with his left hand and over and over again, he kissed her, as though that and only that were the most eloquent gesture in the world. This strange intimacy started him, but he did not think to drive away. He understood once more, that this was how men kiss, roughly, with gruff and heated gestures and tight embraces. These turned into rapacious kisses and she knew it, but she didn't stop it and the texture of her baby soft skin and of her thick red hair had driven him to madness, so he wouldn't stop either. Even if they were leading nowhere.

Yes, he couldn't stop himself from showing her with actions how he felt. Words failed him, even though he knew words were the thing she was waiting for. She expected that for her to trust him, he would have to tell her the story of his tormented life, whatever was eating him inside and that his eyes always leaked away through the cracks of his mask whenever they would talk. He wanted to, he desperately wanted to. He knew she would understand, but that did not help his conscience much. Because it was a shame on his life, a stain he would never wipe and what was worse, she wouldn't look at him the same way if she knew.

So in this moment, he resolved to once more ignore this and focus on her fear, because as she said, his problems was not the only stinging factor in their torturing equation. And he desperately wished her problems to be his. Perhaps he wasn't clear enough. He needed to take his patience with it, just as well as she had the patience for him.

But until then, he visited on her his truthful kiss, his sweet and rough kisses, his kisses of need and he gave himself to her with no reserve. Almost none, for he wouldn't give up.

(After this comes Hawke's memory of the hot encounter, ending in them both trying to tease the truth out of each other, Fenris pressing for her to say the word, only to give up and continue the ordeal physically and him doing something to Hawke with his lyrium glow.)

Blinded and shaking, she burst into loud moans covered by Fenris's hand. Dead and fainted she was, from the drunkenness and from everything he had put her through. Although he had to admit, the delight in his bones was beyond cosmic proportions as well his grin as he got her to powerfully climax with his ability, despite her wide reserves of resistance. Yes, his grin was stretching back to Kirkwall and his eyes were bathing in devilish triumph.

He carried her back to her room and placed her carefully on the bed, but her arm shoved a lamp away and the creaking sound made her spring back only faintly to consciousness.

Fenris quickly placed the lamp back on the nightstand until whole room caught on fire and saw Hawke's arm stretching at him faintly. "Fenris…"

"Go back to sleep," he said calmly and refused to touch her. "Now I'm done with you for the night," he joked in amusement, remembering his victory.

She caught his hand aggressively, in a fit of sudden strength coming back to her, and dragged him to sit on the edge of the bed next to her as only she remained lying down. "Stay."

"Not a very wise choice," Fenris said carefully, trying not to laugh at how beaten she was.

"Do I have to beg?" Hawke muttered angrily through her sleepiness.

"So that's where you two were," Varric's voice startled Fenris and he quickly got up from the bed and sat straight as if a knight-captain suddenly entered the room and he was merely a soldier honouring his role.

"Teddybear," Hawke muttered happily, pointing at Varric's pajamas.

The dwarf looked down as if he had forgotten what he was wearing, a blue shirt and pants with a lion embroidery. He scowled ferociously, "It's a lion."

"It is not," Hawke said drunkenly. "Fenris, do you see a lion?"

Fenris smirked with an umimpressed look and crossed his arms, "You are right, all I see is a teddybear."

"Oh piss off," Varric said angrily. "You're both seeing fluffy animals because you've been cuddling and canoodling behind my back."

"We were what?" Hawke asked in confusion. "Canoo-what?"

"It seems Hawke is not the only one who is paranoid in our little group," Fenris deflected masterfully.

"Then what are you doing here?" Varric asked with lifted impassive eyebrows, waiting for a perfectly reasonable lie from them.

"Isn't it obvious? She's drunk as a boiled owl," Fenris stated unperturbed and pointed at her calmly.

"Ah, but where were you before that, hm?" Varric interrogated charmingly.

"I killed a man, got tormented by guilt, we strolled around the city and listened to some Antivan tenor sing his lungs out in the square and then, overcome and energized with such Antivan romance, I made out with him in a dark alley. It was so hot and poetic," Hawke said with a serious but drunken tone.

Varric looked at her for five seconds in silence. "Bullshit." Fenris contained his smirk because she managed yet again to lie by using the truth.

"Get your ass here," Hawke said drunkenly and grabbed Varric forcefully by the arm, dragging him on the bed. Then she put a leg over him and encaged him viciously in her drunken sleep.

Varric seemed perplexed and panic-stricken, and looked at Fenris, exchanging a telepathic look. So… I guess I'm screwed, Varric's terrified look said. That you are my friend, that you are, Fenris's arrogant smirk said. Alright then… see you in the morning, if I'm alive, Varric said telepathically. Whatever Fenris responded with his mind, the dwarf couldn't make out.

In truth, what went through Fenris's mind as he uncrossed his arms and left the room was a grand bunch of Tevinter curses in a walk of defeat, because he lost his chance and Varric got to take care of drunken Hawke in the end because of his stupid hesitations.

The next morning

"What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor early in the mooorning," Hawke sang mockingly as Isabela came ravished, messy hair and deeply hungover in the tables room of the inn.

"Oh shut it," Isabela muttered grumpily and sat down at the table with all of them.

"Nonsense, Varric back me up here," Hawke said cockily and continued in a chorus, "Way hay and up she rises! Way hay and up she rises! Way hay and up she rises early in the morning!"

"Maker's balls," Isabela said angrily as Armand and Fenris laughed at her softly.

Varric and Hawke started waving and swaying mockingly. "Shave her belly with a rusty razor! Shave her belly with a rusty razor! Shave her belly with a rusty razor early in the morning!"

Dorian joined in the choir. "Put her in the bed with the captain's daughter! Put her in the bed with the captain's daughter! Put her in the bed with the captain's daughter early in the morning!"

Isabela put her hands over her ears, hungover and beaten as a wheel-barrow and shut her eyes tight, but they continued mercilessly. "Way hay and up she rises! Way hay and up she rises! Way hay and up she rises early the morning!"

"That's what we do with a drunken sailor! That's what we do with a drunken sailor! That's what we do with a drunken sailor early in the morning!"

Finally, Isabela started laughing to herself and they gave her a huge cup of Antivan coffee. "No? You want a yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum?" Hawke asked innocently and Isabela scowled at her. "No?"

Isabela muttered grumpily, "And here come the pirate jokes."

"Songs, my dear, songs," Hawke corrected. "Yar har fiddle dee dee, being a pirate is alright with me, do what you want 'cause a pirate is free, you are a pirate!

Varric joined her eagerly. "Yo ho ahoy and avast, being a priate is really badass, hang the black flag at the end of the mast, you are a pirate!"

"Maker kill me now," Isabela said and banged her head into the table.

"Aw, woman, pull yourself together," Hawke said firmly. "What kind of flowers do you get a pirate who can't remember how to tie a rope?"

"What…" Isabela muttered grumpily.

"Forget-me-knots," Hawke said and burst into laughter. "Arrrr."

"Do you know what a pirate thinks of this joke?" Isabela asked with an umimpressed tone. "It's garrrrbage."

"Oh, I have a better joke. A story, actually," Varric said in amusement. "Care to hear it, perchance it might impress you snobby little pirate?"

"Fine," Isabela said flatly. "But no more arrr-jokes."

"Arrright," Varric said mockingly. "So, a large Humpback whale was lazily enjoying a beautiful day when he sees a female Humpback whale just a little ways off in the distance. He thought to himself 'Oh, matey, how do I impress this luscious piece of voluptuous meat?'" Varric narrated charmingly and everyone listened. "He swims over to her and breeches the surface, showing off he large hump on his back, but the lady whale seemed deeply unimpressed as she breached and showed a larger more well-formed… hump, herself." The dwarf cleared his throat and resumed charmingly, "Now, a little embarrassed, he tries again to impress her by taking a breath and blowing a huge cloud of mist and water with a really nice rainbow glowing through it. Once again, she looked unimpressed and she blew a larger cloud of mist, with a more beautiful rainbow."

"I can already tell this isn't going anywhere pleasant," Fenris said grumpily, but still entertained by the story.

"Shht, shht," Hawke hissed childishly at him and gestured for Varric to continue.

Varric smirked and resumed, "Now clearly agitated, the guy whale sees a navel vessel in the distance and races off towards it. Just before he collides with the ship, he dives," Varric kept gesturing dramatically, "jumps out of the water and as he sails over the bow of the ship, he plucks a sailor off the deck and in one gulp swallows him whole!"

"Oh, I think I know where this is going," Hawke said childishly and Varric raised a palm knightly to stop her from her cheer.

"He swam back to her very proud of himself, only to find the female object of his attentions with a horrifying and disgusted look on her face…" Varric lifted his eyebrows and smirked, "As she swam off she said, 'I'll hump, I'll blow, BUT I WON'T SWALLOW SEAMEN!'"

Later that day

Hawke collected Varric, Isabela and Fenris from each place she knew they would be in. Although she didn't find most of them exactly where she thought they would be. Varric and Fenris were surprisingly… lying on the garden roof of the palazzo on some strange flat chair-beds, drinking some green-looking things and both of them with their chests out in the open. Varric looked confident and happy, lying down with no shame, whereas Fenris had one arm across his face with his vest open and seeming to be catching roots or sinking in the chair-bed like a beaten caterpillar. When she came they were startled and she started laughing to bits.

"Today we're expecting high chances of cloudy skies, damp air and a whole lotta raining men," Hawke said in amusement as Fenris started covering himself up and Varric only cockily showed his chest even more.

Hawke explained that she convinced Armand to let her help him with his business and issued Varric to find this "Occhio Del Corvo" by nightfall. Isabela was not eager at all to come, within good reason of course, but Hawke growled at her so fiercely, overrun with her frustration that she was never going to actually help her in anything, despite Hawke's efforts to help her. They started arguing in the middle of the street and Hawke raised her palm as she often did to issue her companions to stop. She told Isabela to get out of her sight, and that's what she did.

Varric insisted that all of them put on cloaks for their own good if they were indeed going to involve themselves into Crow business. Hawke put on a powerfully blue coat with red embroideries, the same powerful blue pants, a white shirt and a crimson waist girdle in which she stuck a few knives, then cloaked herself playfully and winked at them. She equipped herself with two longswords in sheaths by her sides that she kept hidden. Yes, greatswords were not going to help in this situation, no one could possibly hide such a weapon.

Fenris didn't approve of changing tactics so suddenly, especially in a place that would be twice as strange and dangerous than Kirkwall, but eventually complied and equipped himself with two hidden longswords and put on a black shirt and over it a dark coat, with a somewhat midnight violet waistband. More so, to everyone's surprise and amusement, he put on a black and whitish grey vertical-lined pair of Antivan pants Hawke playfully suggested some days before would look good on him. She had no idea he actually bought them from the market. Yes, the pants were a much bigger surprise than him putting on leather boots, for sure. The violet waist band was indeed, a sign of mockery directed at her for not having the courage to wear such a color. A sign of mockery which she rightfully received through his evil grin as he cloaked himself and looked away.

Varric didn't need much change to his appearance. He said in amusement that he should match Broody's look and put on a pair of white and pale green vertical-lined pants and a brown cloak with a red scarf. Yes… they all looked like the perfect candidates for the Cirque du so Gay, Hawke said. They hailed a gondola soon enough and by the time they found their way to Occhio Del Corvo, the sun had set.

Sunset, Via della Morte Nera

The night as wet and dark, cicadas sang in the dark as they often do, to no clock, in Antiva City.

They followed Hawke. Up and down they went, walking like regular men among the streets, then only to climb on pipes and sneak through buildings so they would be sure nobody else followed them.

Perhaps others felt this way when they hunt the big beasts of the forest and of the jungle. For Hawke, as they went down the stairs from the ceiling into a darkened courtyard of this new and highly decorated palazzo, it was rabid excitement. Men were going to die. Men would be murdered. Men who were bad, men who had wronged innocents. At least to her understanding.

No care now about the soil, the damp, the threat of disease. No care now whether the crawling things of the night came near. No care now what men might think who peeped from their windows. No care now for the lateness of the hour. Look at me, stars. Look at me, as I look at you.

Fenris tried to shut himself up and remained in a calm and cold lack of protest, because he understood what Hawke was doing, apart from the usual reason why she involved herself in such situations. He knew of her struggle that struck into her soul after Danny's death, she was panic-stricken and tormented by the ghost of her past and her present – that she wanted to be more than a mage, she wanted be equal to him, to Varric and any other man who only made use of physical means to fight. She wanted to do good far and wide in her own way. For them it was a fighter life and it was as joyful as it was sorrowful. The demons of her past were magnified and she kept pushing them down as much as she could.

Silently, secretively, without further ado, she had set the tone for her approach to the world. She would wander these places which were foreign to her, including Kirkwall when they would return, with the fervor of a Ferelden saint. She would increase in understanding, in goodness and compassion for others, just like her soul had dictated from the very beginning. And she would never cease to put a pressure on herself to be exactly what she believed was good.

"We must be careful," Fenris finally said as they sneaked quietly between every roof and landed somewhere in a garden.

"No need to worry," Hawke said firmly. "I trust Armand to show up. Well, as soon as we find the right place."

"This certainly looks like the dark, creepy kind of beautifully haunting place to be called Occhio del Corvo. Well, that and the fact that there's a one-eyed raven statue right there," Varric said awkwardly and pointed above at the grand façade of the building behind them.

"It's almost too quiet here," Fenris said in a low voice. "I do not like this."

"Have faith, you stubborn little man," Hawke whispered as they leaned over the wall in a shadowy corner.

Fenris gave a sad sigh and looked away, his face as aloof and unbending as before, only now Hawke sensed the fervor and thick blood flowing through his veins with fear. That once again, as it had been the night before, was pumped full of living heat, his heart throbbing in his chest but kept under control in the safety of her and Varric's company, which had no doubt been his late repast this same evening.

Strident perfume rose from the gardens right and left, from red and purple bougainvilleas and geranum a grandi fiori, as the Antivan call them here, rampant flowers shimmering and smelling infinitely sweet, and the wild irises stabbing upwards like blades out of the dark grass, throaty petals monstrously big, battering themselves on old walls and concrete steps. There were also little white, almost transparent flowers called Lunaria because they resembled almost perfectly shapely moons. And then as always there were roses, roses of old women and roses of the young, roses too whole for the tropical night, roses coated here with poison.

She looked at the garden with its damp, sweet park of green down the middle, a park thick with those carefully planted flowers and old gnarled and humble, bending trees. Then back up at the sky. Stay with me, beauteous stars, her face seemed to beg, and let me never seek to fathom this fusion of light and sound, but only give myself to it utterly and unquestionably. The stars were large and infinite in their cold majestic light, compared to the hotness and dampness of the Antivan street. And slowly, the actual dark night after sunset was descending upon them with only one great glorious illumination remaining.

They didn't look at the canals much after this first long and memorable glimpse. They looked up at Heaven and her court of mythical creatures fixed forever in the all powerful and inscrutable stars. Ink black was the night beyond them, and they so like jewels that old poetry came back to them, the sound even of hymns sung only by men who had lost all fear for war.

The whole picture moved with the subtle river winds, and wet mist swirled but would not fall into rain itself, and tiny green leaves drifted down like wilting ashes to the ground. Soft soft northern summer. Even the sky seemed pregnant with the season, lowering yet blushing with reflected light, giving birth to the mist from all its pores.

She smiled. Fenris felt her smile, and as the light of the moon grew brighter still and ever closer, as though it were an ocean of itself, the sky of stars, he felt a great saving coolness over all his limbs.

"Stay here," Fenris said calmly. "I will roam over the corner and see if anybody followed us."

Hawke hesitated as he already started walking away, then finally whispered, "Be careful." He looked only half-way back at her and nodded knightly, then sneaked quietly against the wall and around the corner.

"Hawke, not that I'm not fiercely enjoying the roguish adventurous scenario and these badass looking clothes, but…" Varric started awkwardly.

"But?" Hawke asked in amusement. "You're retired?"

"No, no," Varric said sweetly in a frown. "Just wondering if those shiny little stars up there decided this is the last time I'll ever see them."

"You're such a fatalist," Hawke said warmly and brushed his shoulder. "Nobody's dying on me, you got it? That includes you and your masterful roguish efforts."

"Oh, make no mistake," Varric started cockily. "Bianca and I are good to go." Hawke looked at him firmly and squeezed his hand and patted his crossbow as if she blessed him coldly.

They suddenly heard a sinister laughter, rumbling like low thunder over the moist soft sounds of the flutes and cicadas in the distance. A long, dry cruel laugh.

Two resembling dark cloaked figures came out of nowhere from above and landed dexterously on the narrow and high black gates in front of the garden. Only now did they realize there was also a black crow sculpted in the upper middle of the gates. The figures held onto the fence as they came down and landed again very quietly and gracefully with a roll in the air and another roll-over on the ground at a fine distance from them. Hawke held onto the sheaths just in case, but it became very clear that these were Armand and his friend.

She approached them with no fear as she saw the strips of red hair coming from underneath Armand's hood. His friend had let the hood of his cape fall, and his hair was wondrously shaped in its prodigious length. He looked like some elven god of beauty, with his glistening and relaxed amber eyes, lean nose and mild full mouth, and the blond hair parted so cleanly in the middle, and the whole mass of it alive from the damp of the night. His tight, polished brown face startled her. He looked lacquered all over, waxed, buffed, and she thought of spicy things, of the meat of candied nuts, and delicious aromas, of chocolates sweet with sugar and dark rich butterscotch, and it seemed a good thing suddenly to maybe stop staring at him.

"I see you've found this place after all," Armand said flatly in a quiet voice.

"Ah, I believe there is no doubt to be put in Ferelden warriors such as herself, Armand," the handsome elf said in a perfect Antivan accent. "Of course such thoughts are moot. One must never put so much trust in any soul they do not wish simply to kill."

Hawke raised an eyebrow and uncovered her head too, looking the man straight in the eye and preparing to speak. "I see you've already heard a great deal about me," Hawke said sarcastically as she glanced fiendishly at Armand. "My name is Hawke. And you must be the friend who needs help."

"Indeed I am," the blonde elf said charmingly with a deep voice. "I am Adonis, former assassin and professional good-doer with no country, as it were. My pleasure," he said and bowed courteously.

Hawke tried not to snort at his fake name, but decided to lay it low for a while. Her suspicions to who he was were enough to make an outburst with would only appear to sound with all the rancor of an accusation.

"So what is that you need done?" Hawke asked calmly. "This is no Crow headquarters, that much is clear."

"Oh, if it were, we would be dead by now, no doubt," the elf said firmly. He was wearing a curious black coat with very narrow grey lines, black gloves with fine shimmering and sharp jewels on the knuckles, undoubtedly hiding tiny blades inside and a belt with so many pockets one could only assume was full of all the poisons, explosives and knives in the world. "But enough of this, we still have time to chit-chat. What do you think of my glorious Antiva City?"

"From a first glimpse, it is as beautiful as a city could get," Hawke said warmly, but resumed her cold look which impressed the man, "and seems a place singularly devoid of horrors, a warm home even for its well-dressed and clever beggars, a hive of prosperity and vehement passion as well as staggering wealth. But it is not so, is it?"

"Ah, yes, one could get so tired to form questions, to say it is not possible, this combination of the fleshly, cruel and the beatific. I cannot even find eloquent words for it. The nakedness of the boy angels painted on the facades, the sweet sound of the flutes, the rain and the black-haired beauties. It is enchanting and innocent, but you cannot believe it. It is a lie of Antiva, a lie of the North, a lie of the Devil himself."

"The Devil?" Hawke asked in confusion.

"It is what we call the strongest of pride demons, but it is not important," the elf explained calmly.

"Wait here," Armand said sharply. "I think it's time." Hawke frowned in confusion, but the blonde elf gave her an assuring look as to wait because Armand knew what he was doing. He climbed on a pipe and disappeared somewhere in the building.

"So you're a 'good-doer'," Hawke said awkwardly, looking back at the elf.

"Hawke, is it?" She nodded and the elf resumed charmingly, "There is no good that is founded in suffering and cruelty; there is no good that must root itself in the privation of little children, women and men stripped of their liberty. I can see in you, you are a good-doer yourself, are you not?"

"An army of mercenaries could not have felt less compassion for such despicable creatures," Hawke said firmly about the Crows. "Well, perhaps Antivans have more feeling for their enemy than I."

He laughed. His eyes crinkled at the edges, and his face was cheerful and sweet. His hair kept its elven luster. How fine he would have been if freed from the dictates of this nightmare. "We like to see the blood flow you and I. I don't really fancy Antivans anyway, and I most certainly want swift vengeance."

"So you search the mind for a crime that can justify your predatory feelings?" Hawke asked in suspicion.

The elf laughed again. "It is my way, or so I am told. But no, in all seriousness, all I desire is to right the wrongs that have been done to some few people here. And who knows – as I seem to always be blessed by luck, I might even manage to overthrow this entire guild one day."

"Oh, I get it. You want to punish them," Hawke said gently. "To punish them all for the vain and blasphemous deeds, for the worldly and godless life they made you two live."

"Well, what is the Void compared to this, really?" the elf responded in entertainment with a luscious grin. "Ah, so the executioners said a thousand times when they led heretics to the stake. 'What are the fires of the Inferno to this brief suffering?' Oh, such self-serving and arrogant lies, no?"

Hawke smiled, for she agreed to this elf's ranting. "You think so?"

The elf chuckled and shook his head. "Lay caution on your thoughts, though, yes?" the elf said charmingly. "For there are those who can pick your mind barren of all its thoughts. Such the Crows are. There may be no Void or Inferno for them, but there will be eternal suffering, of that I am sure. Their nights of luxury and lasciviousness are over. The truth awaits them soon enough."

"Antiva is creepy," Varric said simply, because he was getting, and rightfully so, crept out by this conversation.

"Yes, well, it is Antiva City after all, my dwarven friend," the blonde elf laughed with bitter joy. "This place must erase from my mind, at least for a while, the clotted torment of some earlier existence, some congestion of all truths that I would not face. Now it is the time to face them, all in this city's eternal beauty and lies."

Fenris finally came from the shadows and joined them, eyeing then the blond elf with deep suspicion as he came next to him and Hawke.

"Oh, that is not fair," the blonde elf said as he looked up at Fenris. He was much taller than ordinary elves.

"And you are?" Fenris asked coldly.

The elf smiled, catching onto something in his posture slightly going in front of Hawke and said to Fenris, "Oh, look at dees little morsel before me. Tell me, gorgeous man, have you ever danced with knives under dark silk skies by the moonlight?"

"This is uh, Adonis. Adonis this is Fenris," Hawke said trying not to laugh, then her mouth drew an evil grin. "We're replacing you."

Fenris's brow arched up to the skies and chuckled arrogantly as he crossed his arms. "With him?"

The blonde elf laughed joyfully. "He seems surprised. Tell me, do your tattoos travel down to where I think they may travel down? Are they marks to your… how can I say… sweet spots?"

Fenris's eyes became murderous and his voice grumpy in amazement, "…With him."

"Unlike you, he likes being in pain," Varric said fiendishly, joining in the little play.

"It is a thrill! The warm sharp clack of a whip, the knife dancing across your skin! It makes you feel alive, yes?" the blonde elf said charmingly and tried to get a hold of Fenris's shoulder.

"Be careful, he doesn't like to be touched," Varric said in amusement.

The elf grinned. "Oh? Perhaps it is because… you have not been touched correctly, yes? Perhaps some practice is necessary?"

Fenris frowned and shook his head, eyeing Hawke grumpily. "I'll be in Kirkwall if you need me."

"An invitation! Succes!" the Antivan elf almost shouted eagerly.

"Oh, cheer up, Fenris," Hawke said in amusement. "It could be worse. I could have been serious."

"That would be a first," Fenris said grumpily.

"You believing me for a second is also a first," Hawke stung back confidently.

"Will wonders never cease," Fenris said sarcastically. "Soon I'll wake up cheering for mages' rights and frolicking with woodland creatures on the green grass and under the blue, blue sky."

Hawke and Varric giggled and elbow-hit one another, probably because of some inside joke he completed himself.

"It wouldn't hurt to try," Hawke said in amusement. "I'd pay to see that."

"You can pay for such things just right across the street," Fenris said grumpily, pertaining to the whorehouses.

"Ah, why such rudeness to the lady?" the charming elf intervened. "One must never treat a fine leader as herself with such scorn."

"And who are you again?" Fenris asked coldly with an arrogant look.

"More importantly is the question, who might you be," the elf said to Hawke. "Your fine long hair of fire and eternal intelligence remind me so much of another redhead beauty that stole my heart away long ago."

"I could make that permanent if you wish," Fenris said flatly with a controlled scowl.

"Oh, Big Bad Fenris should be your name, my friend," the Antivan elf said in amusement.

Hawke frowned and ignored Fenris's strange remarks, because she felt like this was an opportunity to unmask him the so-called 'Adonis'. A former handsome and charming crow was something Anders had told her about on numerous occasions and her need for answers grew heavier. "Wait, what were you saying? I didn't quite catch the redhead part."

"Eager, are we not?" the Antivan said with a captivating smile. "Ah, but this is a story for another time, I think. Surely I could never deny a beauty such as yourself for long."

"You could try a little harder," Fenris said in a cold, assaultive tone.

The blonde elf grinned mischievously. "You know, my friend… All that pent up frustration could be put to… much better use."

"And I imagine you excel at such use," Fenris said grumpily. The elf noticed how Fenris made a faint step closer to Hawke as if to keep him away from her.

"Ah, such rudeness," the Antivan elf said playfully. "I must be the only gentleman here."

"Hey, I'm a gentleman," Varric said angrily. "Well, in public."

The elf looked down at him and smiled. "Forgive me my dwarven friend, I did not see you down there."

Hawke laughed softly and Varric gave her an angry look. "What? It's funny 'cause you're in public…" she said innocently, trying to save it, and scratched the back of her head awkwardly.

"Why should we trust this elf?" Fenris demanded firmly. "We could be waiting here to get ambushed any second."

"Hmmmmm, trust me," the elf said charmingly.

"He came with Armand. This is the friend," Hawke said calmly. "And who's being paranoid now?"

"Ah, it is healthy to have a little paranoia. But everything with moderation," the blonde elf said joyfully. "Unless you want to get quickly assassinated by your own encaging delirium. Or your enemies, when you're not looking the right way."

"You are a former Crow then?" Fenris asked firmly.

"Oh, I am many things. Adventurer, skilled lover, former assassin, professional good-doer, occasional weekend warrior, oh so many things. And of course, admirer of strong women such as you," the Antivan elf said and smiled at Hawke.

"A bit too much flattery for my taste," Hawke said awkwardly, but Fenris ignored her remark.

"Those are a few too many titles for one little man," Fenris said subtly, taking advantage to mark his territory through the elf's own recognition of him being taller than the Antivan.

"I certainly do not wish to compare to you, my friend," the elf said calmly. "Or argue who was the bigger weapon."

"There is no point in arguing," Fenris said flatly. "My sword is bigger than yours." Hawke and Varric were dying inside trying not to laugh at this subtle cockfight and at Fenris probably not realising what he was saying.

"Ah, I knew a gorgeous man with a sword as big as yours once," the Antivan said charmingly and crossed his arms. "And he was heavily… compensating."

Are you happy now? Filling the gaps. And with a certain handsome favorite Antivan of some, yes? Yes.