Fenris couldn't sleep. Perhaps it was because he was a fool, perhaps it was because he was plagued by nightmares… perhaps the night just didn't want him dozing off. He tried reading something boring… The Maker's Children, but it didn't work –he became fascinated and needed to know more about the Fade in light of recent events. Immersed into the book, he probably stood there for a good few hours, and not because he had trouble reading anymore. He developed the steady automatism to read words in their wholeness rather than breaking them into letters.

What had this been to him? Nothing. And as he burned the candle again and let the light grow bright around his eternally silent figure, and as he gazed at his reflection in his sword for a second, he knew the same penance he had always known.

But as he stood there, as he dreamt with his eyes open, one clear conclusion did come to him. He wanted hope precisely because he had put himself into the open world and there was almost no turning back from it. He had spent a good amount of time in this mansion and in this city, that he suspected if he took off again, it would have grown out of his character to be eternally vigilant and he would be dead within the hour. Had he never stepped into the Alienage, this mad loneliness would not have come over him. It was mixed up with his hopes and fears, but most particularly with a certain feeling which he could only call true friendship, and his desire to be close to those that helped him and prevented his death so many times over.

Only on the beginning of this night did he realize that she was really a flight risk from his friendship. Up until then, he had thought that such was absolutely inconceivable. He couldn't lose her. No, such a thing could not happen. At last, he was eaten by the thought to beg her to sit down and listen to him as he would pour out his honest heart, telling her about everything there needed to be said, confessing every bad thing which he had done or said, every cheap denial of her which had come from his lips, every desperate foolish thing he'd said to Hawke.

Then distant recollections and figures from the past started to flash before his eyes, faces and words he never wanted to remember again, memories of his own unforgivable betrayal, memories when yet again, death and running dictated his path and his tale. No, some things one would not want to remember. He cursed a little, that he knew how to keep a calendar now. When that one day was coming… he would not remember it. This year was different, and he couldn't feel more haunted and miserable over it. But his chain of thoughts were saved from burning up by a ridiculous sound.

There were footsteps on the roof, perhaps unknowingly going straight for the hole in the ceiling he had worked on covering up during the faintly rainier season.

But he could recognize those steps… no one could have made a loader sound without effort. Hawke was not a tiptoe kind of girl… she was the kind that stepped with the whole might of their heels and even she tried, she couldn't be quiet with her battle boots on.

A loud bang, another one, and then the ceiling cover broke and Hawke fell with full force on the ground.

"What are you doing?" came Fenris's unhappy voice as he came up from the chair.

Even in the shuddering gloom, she could see his handsome straight nose and beautifully shaped full lips. As for the green eyes, they gave the face a certain frightening aspect, though she wasn't certain whether or not she ought to have felt such a thing. She resolved to ignore all of this.

Thus Hawke got up in an instant, rubbing her back from the pain and griming her clothes from the incredible dust that painted her as an ancient flushed statue. The silence was perhaps intentional to harrow him. Finally, she looked at him and they met halfway in the room. "I don't like your attitude," she said sharply.

"I don't understand," Fenris said and searched his mind. Nothing was there. Arguably a good thing. "Did I upset you?"

"Yeah you did," Hawke said sharply yet again.

Fenris crossed his arms immediately and asked her, "How?"

Hawke shook her head and stretched her arms out as she articulated angrily, "You go all 'I need time alone', but then you talk to Varric for hours on end – and no, don't kill him because I couldn't get anything else out of him –and with Mother you're all happy smiles and endless rainbows and the perfect gentleman!" Hawke shouted. "And with me it seems you're pulling away by the second, as if I'm here all just to harrow hell upon you and you need to run away."

"Hawke," Fenris said flatly, his arms crossed as he watched her pace to and fro.

And she kept pacing angrily. "I knew it. I knew it when I told you in Antiva that you were going to run away."

"Hawke," Fenris said again, looking at her sharply.

"And I should've listened to myself-"

"HAWKE." Fenris caught her by the shoulders and almost shouted, "I talk to Varric because he's a man. I'm happy smiles and rainbows with your mother because one, she is a wonderful woman and I owe her a great deal, and two, I will not see the light of day if I ever let myself slip and get on her bad side."

"Bad side?" Hawke asked with a heavy frown. "How would you get on her bad side?"

"By having you over in the middle of the night for instance," Fenris said coldly, and let go of her.

Hawke let herself be painted with the fullness of a scowl. She flung her arm out. "Psht. I'm a grown woman capable of making my own decisions."

"Yet you need to climb on the roof to get into my house," Fenris said flatly, crossing his arms again.

"It's called being resourceful," Hawke said proudly with an indomitable face

"It's called being a child," Fenris said with half-lidded eyes.

She locked her angry look onto him and crossed her arms. "Then I guess what you're called is a paedophile."

Now Fenris was enveloped by the might of his scowl. "I am not."

She shrugged innocently. "Take it back and I take it back."

"Fine. You are not a child," Fenris muttered with his arms still crossed. He looked up at her and finished, "You are simply childish."

"That's bet- HEY."

"Are you really going to contradict me on this one?"

"No, I'm simply going all HEY because feelings hurt," Hawke said while scratching her head.

Fenris finally broke into soft lauther. "Thus confirming my previous statement."

"And how are you more mature than me?" Hawke demanded and pointed her accusatory finger at him. "You went all free bird disappearing boy on me."

For some reason, seeing her angry about it, and being confused about exactly what she meant, he gripped tighter on his crossed arms, thus designing signs of anger.

"What do you prefer?" Fenris asked sharply, his eyes cold and dark. "You wish me to court you? Woo you? Perhaps get on my knees and beg?"

"No!" Hawke shouted and drawled while shaking her head, "I'm not some pretentious little maiden and you're not some knight in shining armour." She drawled again. "And I certainly don't want you doing that last thing you said."

"I'm relieved," Fenris said unemotionally. He gestured towards her demandingly. "What would you have me do then?"

Hawke threw her head back and rolled her eyes. "You ask me? Do what your damn muscle tells you."

"Which one," Fenris muttered grumpily.

"They're telling you different things?" Hawke asked in amusement.

Fenris flung his arms out in a mask of calmness. "Well you are certainly a child if you cannot grasp the very nature of how these muscles work."

"I know how muscles work," Hawke said in irritation. "I just don't get what your problem is."

"My problem is you," Fenris said angrily and gestured as he continued, "You string me along in Antiva, half-heartedly allowing me in, never talking about it, and then just as quickly shrink from me every time the entirety of my muscles attempt something other than talking." He crossed his arms again and looked at her coldly. "And now that we're back in Kirkwall, you think I'm going to keep this up like some brain-dead dog barking up your knee?"

"Of course not," Hawke shouted and drawled nervously, "But I don't appreciate you shrinking from me."

"Painful isn't it?" Fenris said, a grin drawing up on his face. "When you get to feel your own weapon used against you."

"This is not a weapon," Hawke shouted. She shook her head. "And I'm not pertaining to what happened. I'm saying that I don't like it when you shrink from me as a friend. Something happened with you. Not with us." She pointed outside. "And I'm not sure if it was back in Antiva or it was something here. And it's not very helpful to me that you go all cold on me now."

"Ugh, what do you want from me?" Fenris shouted and stretched his arms out. "Is it not enough that I show you I haven't forgotten you all with my half-assed disappearance? Is it not enough that I haven't completely vanished? Is it not enough that I took it in my own hands to protect you from yourself and even from me for that matter?"

"Don't make this about me or about my magic or about your damn predicament," Hawke said decisively and pointed at him. "This is about you cowarding away from me because you fear that I might not be barking up your own door anytime soon."

"Yes, you caught me," Fenris shouted angrily. He threw his arms out in irritation. "I fear that you're never going to show up and fall from my own roof ever again. I'm terrified that I have made a dangerous mistake that I may never have the means to reverse ever again."

She narrowed her eyes and scowled as she shouted and articulated in exasperation, "You, you – you little impossible man that lies by telling the truth in a dramatic manner!"

"I am not little," Fenris pressed angrily.

"That's not what – ugh," Hawke growled and threw her arms up. "Fine. You know what? Forget I said anything."

"I wish I could," Fenris said.

"Oh, great," Hawke shouted and joined her hands. "Be even more dramatic. This really doesn't suit you, Fenris."

"Nothing about this suits me, Hawke!" Fenris shouted and clamped his face with both his hands. He stood there like that for several moments. When his hands fell away from his face, revealing his both tormented and infuriated expression, he shouted again, "I'm an escaped slave and an elf living in a borrowed mansion. What do all these things say to you, hm?"

"That you'll make millions if you write your memoirs," Hawke said undauntedly with a shrug.

"Memoirs that will hold a reality much graver than you can ever imagine," Fenris pressed hoarsely.

"Oh really?" Hawke shouted and beckoned. "Wanna hear my story?"

"Let's hear it," Fenris growled and crossed his arms.

She raised her arms up and kept a perfectly straight face as she uttered, "Once upon a time, no one gave a fuck."

"Nothing about this has ever remotely tickled your mind that you're diving into dangerous territory?" Fenris asked unyieldingly, but the fear rose and strangled out the wound.

"No," Hawke pressed as quickly as he said it, and in exasperation, she flung her arms out. "I don't give a flying copper about your predicament. And you don't give a fuck about mine either."

Fenris remained silent, trying to keep a straight and cold face.

She shut her eyes bitterly and tightened her lips. It was extraordinarily expressive of the kind of anger that hurts straight into the chest.

"Well?" Hawke shouted finally. Her cheeks were red and flushed. "Do you honestly give a damn about me being a mage? Or a human? Or a better warrior than you?"

"You had me at human," Fenris said with narrowed eyes, crossing his arms very commandingly. "Although I do take issue with one thing."

She felt no tenderness for him suddenly, for he seemed so strong as he stood there, so very certain of himself and of the statement he had just put on her.

"Let me guess," Hawke muttered as she rolled her eyes and stretched her arms out. "My jokes? My drinking? My everything that screams unladylike behaviour? My stupid clown mage ways? My delving into everyone's business? Or perhaps my utter and impossible need to strive for –"

"That you don't know when to shut up," Fenris growled and dragged her forcefully into his arms. He clamped her mouth with the most intense kiss he had ever planted upon her lips. A few moments very long afterwards, he broke the kiss and made her gasp for air.

"Alright," Hawke said in-between short little pants. "Point – taken."

"Are you certain?" Fenris asked. "Or do I need to make myself clearer?"

"It wouldn't hurt," Hawke said with a contained grin. "I mean to be fair –"

Fenris pulled her back evermore forcefully and pressed his lips against hers. She fell right against him, almost stumbling, and Fenris pulled her very close, responding a little more rashly perhaps than she had expected. But she was not displeased. His creamy skin was almost luminous; and it burned. He caught her face with impossible ardency, and thrust his hand through her long red hair which maddened him with its unholy luster, and her beautiful playful lips with their inevitable warmth.

She caught him by the shoulders and pulled away, and when their lips parted it left an urgent burning sensation all with the stamp of wanting more. As broke away, an air of tigerish growls escaped Fenris's lips and he looked at her with his green half-lidded eyes, questioning and arguing.

"Are you kissing me so that I will not talk?" she asked.

"Yes, that's exactly what I was doing," he said.

"No more," Hawke said and raised her palm to stop. "I will not take more of this."

"You are impossible," Fenris muttered grumpily.

"No, I'm improbable," Hawke corrected mockingly. "As in improbable to let this go or be deceived in this manner."

"How am I deceiving you?" Fenris said aloud, desperate and trying to contain it.

"Whatever is on your chest, get it off," Hawke demanded. "This thing where you shrink from me as my damned friend is getting on my nerves and I will not take it. Shrinking from other positions is fine by me and understandable, but I will not have this ridiculous charade where we slowly become estranged from a friendship that I've kept with an iron heart to preserve all these years."

"Damn it, Hawke," Fenris growled as he looked down.

Imagine a figure of ice, as perfectly made as the ancient statues of old, thrown into the fire, and sizzling, and melting, and yet the features wondrously intact still… well, such was Fenris when emotions infected him, as they did now.

For a moment, she said nothing. Her eyes were narrow and her lips slightly parted, as if she was pondering this with extreme concentration

"I am not some happy get-away," Hawke declared suddenly in deep determination. "And I will not have you solely confide in Varric and pull away from me. Next thing that will happen is Varric's going to be the unfortunate friend caught in the middle of all this and sooner or later he'll have to pack his bags and run to the Anderfels to get away from us and the hell we'll harrow ever so nicely upon him."

"Fine," Fenris growled sharply as he narrowed his eyes. He flung his arms out in silence, then his shoulders sank. "I saw some people that made my blood freeze as we left Antiva. I haven't slept peacefully ever since. Happy now?"

"If you elaborate," Hawke demanded.

Fenris sighed and growled, "Those feathered steel plates that you found in Tantervale. I had almost died there. It was just before I arrived in Kirkwall."

"And?" Hawke said.

"There was this man," Fenris started and paced around as he explained without looking at her, "He was a hunter. Constantine I think his name was. I killed his brother who was marching as captain with his troops upon me in Perivantium. It was not long before Constantine took it personally and came after me himself."

She remembered the dream, how could she forget. She beckoned for him to go on.

Fenris lowered his gaze and his shoulder sank. He needed to sit down, but he was petrified. He resumed his pace and continued, "I'd… grown tired of the chase. When I reached the Free Marches I was dead beat and there'd been a great sensation telling me that I should just let them come and there'd be no more reasons to hide."

"And thus he found you," Hawke said.

Fenris pressed his lips and sighed. He looked down in shame. "Those had been reasons that helped cover up the wider reality that – I'd grown lazy."

"And tired of running, what's so bad about that?" Hawke asked.

"I almost died, Hawke," Fenris said. "And after I barely managed to survive, I came upon Anso in a forgotten alley and he was the one to point me to Kirkwall. But the hunters were already onto me, since I was indeed lazy and careless… I didn't kill all of them. And there's a good chance that bastard might have risen up from the dead."

He kept pacing and then he finally stopped, sighed and growled bitterly, "Why can't people just stay dead?"

"And that's how they sought to lure you into the Alienage, wasn't it?" Hawke asked.

"Yes," Fenris said. "Thankfully I had Anso to help me." He paused as if he didn't wish the words to escape his lips. "And then you came along."

"What was it that you were looking for in that chest?" Hawke demanded.

Fenris lowered his head, probably to curse at her in his mind that with her sturdy mind she had never forgotten anything all these years. "That man's brother, Felix, did not in fact die." He looked up at her grim and serious. "I did not really kill him."

"I'm sensing something worse," Hawke said a bit unsteady.

"When he found me and I killed all his men, he begged me not to kill him," Fenris said in a low voice. He paused again, because he had to labour so much into words he had never thought would escape him. "He told me he despised his life, that he was all against the horrors and the utter disgrace that the Imperium became yet again because of the mages who had manage to strip every living and breathing being from political rights except for their own kind. And not even their own kind, what am I saying? They do not hesitate to collar their own."

"And you let him live," Hawke said.

"It felt… wrong, to kill him," Fenris said in a haunted voice. He pressed his lips with remorse. "I never showed any speck of mercy to Tevinter soldiers. Mercenaries yes, once or twice I yelled at them to run and never come back when they yielded, because they were hired swords with no possible hope for brains… but those soldiers all had it coming. Most are too clever for their foolish creed."

"Then why did it feel wrong?" Hawke asked.

"You have not been in the Imperium," Fenris said as he sat down on the bed. "Magisters are vicious people and they control everything from the lowest shop to the highest institutions. Even the Archon has limited power over them all. And humans are instructed all their lives to think lowly of elves and more so of themselves, but still hold on to a sense of meritocrasy… that they are still a step higher than us on the social ladder. They are told to forever protect the blazon of the Imperium and defend their leaders with the highest honor."

"All bull then," Hawke said. A smile had escaped him and he let himself chuckle. She returned that smile and caught his image. It was painful laughter still.

Then his eyes grew dark again and designing penancing thoughts as he bitterly resumed, "I don't know… when I saw that man under my sword, I felt his honesty. I was a slave –I knew exactly when someone was lying. I didn't need any science or sorcery to tell me this. And he was indeed, honest when he said he saw it all for what it was –and he wanted an end to his fate."

"So you showed him mercy," Hawke said and pondered on it. This was heavier than she suspected. Ill-tempered and bitter and highly instinctual, Fenris would have never showed mercy to any soul that bore the dragon and snake heraldry. He was capable of it, of course, but more importantly not to the ones that meant to kill him.

"I did," Fenris said bitterly and joined his hands entangled. "I let him live and offered him a chance to start anew, outside of the Imperium."

"Then why did his brother want to kill you?" Hawke asked.

"He didn't want to be found," Fenris said. "If he ever wished to get the chance to make a living outside, he knew better than to make himself known, even to his family. The highest danger in Tevinter is to depend too greatly on one's own family, clan or collegues. They are all zealots, highly brain-washed and blindly loyal to their country. They've been brought up this way –the Imperium's interest come first, with no question."

"So if his brother knew he was alive, he'd find him just as easily as he found you and he'd drag him back… and perhaps get him killed because he betrayed the Imperium," Hawke said, more to herself.

"That is correct," Fenris said flatly. "So I resolved to keep his secret. And I took the bull by its horns when it came upon me with all its troops."

"And you almost died for it," Hawke said. "But… what does this have to do with the chest?"

"To honour my act of mercy, Felix granted me all the locations in which the hunters were going, all the things Danarius knew about my whereabouts, his intentions, his strategies, his plans, everything." He paused and lowered his gaze as he clutched at the edge of the bed. "Including a certain former magister that rivalled Danarius and his unnatural attempts to create the most powerful living weapon against his own kind. He opposed Danarius in front of the Archon himself, because he couldn't really do the ritual and keep me without permission from the highest source."

"Let me guess. He didn't get permission," Hawke said.

"The magister harrowed all his forces against Danarius and promised he would bring him down," Fenris said. "Suffice it to say, it didn't end well. He didn't take into account that he was walking on thin ice himself in his position. Danarius kept his fingers in a lot of pots… and it didn't take long for him to find out this magister took a fancy with the boys…"

"So what if he did?" Hawke asked. "Isn't homosexuality like a normal thing nowadays everywhere in Thedas?"

"Not in Tevinter," Fenris said with furrowed brows. "It happens everywhere, but beyond closed doors. The higher the rank you have, the worse it is if the truth comes out and the quicker everything you've worked for in your career crumbles to the ground."

"So blood magic is okay, but doing the nasty with the boys is a big no-no?" Hawke said in outrage.

"It wasn't just that," Fenris said sharply. "I believe… I don't remember anymore, but I understood that it had something to do with the magister having an intimate relationship with his wife's brother… or his daughter's husband or… something ridiculous like that."

"So what happened?" Hawke asked.

"It would have been a disgrace, but not just for him. His family would have been in grave danger of being ridiculed and stripped down of their rights. They could've been quickly enslaved." Fenris looked down and pressed his lips. "You'd be surprised how rapid it is in Tevinter that the ones in the highest of ranks could simply end up collared forever from something like this."

"What a country…" Hawke muttered. "Kirkwall seems the paradise of justice and fairness in comparison."

Fenris nodded shortly and resumed, "The magister had to flee the Imperium to save his family, and he sought to find a better life in the Free Marches, even if he was to be an apostate."

"Another illuminated soul?" Hawke asked. "Where does it end?"

"It ended in the Alienage," Fenris said sharply. "The former magister let slip that I was to find a courtesy in that chest."

"What exactly then?" Hawke asked.

"A means to an end," Fenris said sharply with half-lidded eyes. Hawke lifted her eyebrows and he beheld her surprised and bewildered expression. He remained silent for several moments, then he raised his hand and explained in a bitter tone, "Everything I had never known about the ritual, my markings, my abilities, the true purpose of my creation…" he paused and pressed his eyes shut as he finished bitterly, "…who I was before all this."

"He wanted to help you have the upper hand," Hawke said quickly. "And the chest was empty."

"He sold me out perhaps," Fenris said flatly and shook his head bitterly as he closed his eyes. "I don't even know… perhaps Danarius got his hands on him first, perhaps he got his hands on the belongings of that chest and sought to use it anyway as bait." He looked down and uttered bitterly through his hair, "It doesn't matter any longer."

"So that's why you went hot-headed mage hater on me so quickly," Hawke said finally, more to herself. "You were angry at yourself that you allowed yourself to be merciful, and then got played and lured into your death, if you hadn't been blessed by luck."

"I had been blessed with a guardian angel, indeed," Fenris said coldly, then he lowered his head. "And I did nothing but be ungrateful to it."

Hawke would've slapped him, but she contained her urge and resolved to ask another question. "And you never vanished from Kirkwall… why?"

"Are you an idiot?" Fenris asked sharply, looking at her.

"No, but I'm not very bright either," Hawke said and sat down next to him.

Fenris pressed his lips and looked away. "I had already told you the night we met. If they are to come, let them come. I am too old and too tired to run."

"But you never really lived," Hawke said in a soft voice. "You never ran away, but you were always ready to. That's why you kept this mansion on the brink of ruin, despite you looking like the tidiest most calculated man in the world. There was no point in conveying meaning to the house by preserving it… because you could have been forced to abandon it at any given time."

"And I might still be," Fenris said bitterly, looking away still. He shook his head and closed his eyes. "Now do you understand?"

"I hope this is self-explanatory even as I press overredundantly and spell it clearly out for you that I will never sell you out," Hawke started, then stroked his shoulder. "And you never need to run. Not with me around."

"That is exactly the reason why I should," Fenris said quickly, striking her the most soul-breaking look of sorrow. "You were right. I was all infatuated with what happened between us before the trip… and I never had the chance to sit and think on how incredibly foolish I was to engage myself in this. And remarkably inconsiderate of your safety."

"I hate it when I'm right," Hawke said with a sigh. "I also hate it when I have to talk to the flaming idiot inside you, instead of the more reasonable, way more intelligent one of you."

"What?" Fenris asked in confusion. "How am I an idiot?"

"Fenris… I can fucking rule the world if I wish," Hawke said sharply, throwing her arms out in the air. "I can do whatever I want to if my evil mind and muscle feel like it. You said it, Zevran said it, Varric said it. You said I'm too proud to do it."

"I did. What of it?" Fenris asked.

"Do you think… that there was the slightest chance I could get myself in danger because of you… I wouldn't make it so that you'd be on your way?" Hawke asked while locking her serious eyes onto his incredibly tense ones. "Do you really think with my utterly keen mind and with all my evil intuition foreseeing things before they happened… connecting all the dots and controlling everything and everyone like my clueless little puppets… that I wouldn't have simply banished you away?"

"I don't understand," Fenris said flatly, eyebrows joined in a highly bothered frown.

Hawke sighed heavily and gestured towards him. "If I thought there was a better place where you could go to so you could be safe… and in so protecting myself too if anything should come… that I wouldn't have done it in a heartbeat?"

"You clearly don't waste any time," Fenris said half-sarcastically.

"I've had a lot of it to think this over three years ago," Hawke said with an all-knowing smile. "Truly, there's no better place for me as well as you to be in. Even with the Templars, I've invested a great deal here with all that money and my position is heavily preserved by my unyielding attitude and cut-throat calculated way of dealing with the nobility. With that, I control all the stakes and almost all the political and administrative puppets I wish, all with the help of Aveline in her open position and Varric in his shadowy one. And with that…"

"You get to protect me," Fenris finished calmly. He contained his smile and rested his hand on his knee. "You mean everything you say, don't you?"

"I don't waste time with lying, especially not to my friends," Hawke said with a smile. "So are we good now?"

"Not quite," Fenris growled decisively. In other words, he was saying, "Shut up about friendship."

But Fenris, undeterred, suddenly rose from the bed and dropped on his knees before Hawke at the edge of the bed, lean and handsome with mesmeric green eyes, and he took her hand and kissed it and said, "I wasn't lying either when I said you can trust in me and you shall never come to harm." What was it that made him give voice to such a sentiment? Was it fear? Was it on the contrary, determination? He couldn't say. But it was true, and he knew it, as if his lips had sought to instruct his heart.

He was a man alright, tender face or no as he said it.

"Oh, Fenris, if only I could lay my head to rest next to yours," Hawke said softly and stroked his cheek and held onto his strong jaw. "If I could only yield to your protection. But you are driving me away! You don't promise guardianship, you ordain flight for me, wandering and more nightmares, and mystery, and despair. No. I can't."

As his face grew ever more smooth with her hand on his cheek, away went the few lines that could so easily design anger in his expression. "Don't tell me that I'll never see you again," Fenris growled quietly, clutching at the hand on his cheek. "Don't think I can bear that along with everything else that's happened. I have no one here, and then who comes but one who left such a stamp on my heart that the details are as deep as the finest coin. And you say this now, I simply can't allow it."

Hawke chuckled and took his hands in hers. "Of course you'll see me. I will always be here. But this promise of guardianship you give me comes with another promise and you know it."

"And what if it does?" Fenris asked unyieldingly, narrowed eyes, the very effigy of a strong man.

"I will take it when you're truly ready to make that promise," Hawke said with a smile. "And when I am truly ready to take it. I will not do anything half-heartedly and I will not allow myself moments of weakness anymore. At the moment, as you said, a lot has happened, and I am yet to bring myself to understand what has happened."

Fenris looked at her, overcome with fear. And then his eyes seemed to mist over, his lips to go slack. "Ah, I understand," he said with a sad face, lowering his head again and muttering through his hair, "I must be patient."

"This isn't just me, Fenris," Hawke pressed and tightened her grip on his hands. "Look at yourself. You're diving into extremes. Between running away under the pretence that it is for my sake and staying here with me on a full, serious, permanent basis, I suspect."

"You suspect correctly," Fenris said bitterly. "Perhaps I have been a little too hasty with my promises."

"You mean them though," Hawke said softly and smiled at him. "Which is more than I can argue for."

"And yet you're not the one to make such promises," Fenris said flatly, searching her gaze more deeply.

"I already have made them," Hawke almost shouted all-smiling. "I told you I'm not going anywhere and my friendship to you is eternal. Do you return this promise?"

"Of course I do," Fenris said rather quickly, surprising himself. "Need I remind you what I did for you on the road?"

"No need," Hawke said happily and gave him one of her elusive smiles, closing her eyes. "Although you did throw me off completely with that. Not your most surprising talent for bullshitting the hell out of people, but with the very intent of it. I am indeed to stand very corrected and I thank you, Fenris. It was foolish of me to ever think you would do otherwise."

He looked up at her. How soft and beautiful her face was, and, suddenly, so much warmth came from his own. He felt no compunction in yielding to his urge to touch her cheeks, to lightly kiss her lips – familiarities, liberties he hadn't taken with her since the night of their quarrel.

"I told you, you were wrong," Fenris said finally with a contained boyish smirk.

"Oh, dear, and how I love it when you go all smug and wiseass on me," Hawke said half-sarcastically with her eyes still closed and smiling.

But she was looking into his eyes now, and her pain bathed her in a beauteous light, a light which made her irresistibly alluring. It was this that held the jaded audience, this terrible pain.

Fenris couldn't help but lock onto her gaze with the same alluring look in his half-lidded green eyes and with all the decidedness of a tiger, get up and put his arms around her, climbing up against her, pressing her head against his heart. Her hands were reluctant to touch him; and then they moved as if she couldn't stop them, to enfold him and hold him and stroke his hair. This terrible battle in her all in good reason and in even more astounding calmness and clarity threw him off just as well, until finally, he bent and kissed her soft neck. Suddenly he planted another rougher one on her cheek as he caught her face. Red winter plums. Red plums from an enchanted wood where the fruit never falls from the boughs while it's enveloped by the white starkly snow. Where the flowers never wither and die. "Alright, my dear…" Fenris said to her in the softest voice his deep manly voice could get to. "All right."

And her head inclined to him now, so like the attitude of the warrior bending to kiss that he shrank back from her; but her lips only gently pressed his own, finding a part there to suck the breath and let it flow back into him as his arms enclosed her. Rampant, comforting chills went through him. Oh, the pure sweetness of it. And it seemed an eternity that he just sat there feeling her lips. "I'll see you again; not here, in other places. Always I'll know where you are!" she whispered childishly to his lips, without really pulling away from them.

Then Hawke put her arms around his neck. She held him tight, and he closed his eyes and buried his face in her red hair. "Are you happy now? Do you have what you want?" Fenris whispered in a low, soft tune.

"Yes, Fenris," she said and shifted her silvery gaze onto him. He looked so determined and serene, divorced from doubt for a night. She held him against her, her fingers clasping the back of his neck. "I have all that I want. But do you truly know what you want?" She lifted his face so he had to look into her overpowering eyes. "It's you I fear for, you who might be making the mistake."

"I tire of this," Fenris said suddenly, grabbing her hands away from his face. "Cease with your own guardianship if you do not allow mine."

"Alright, alright," Hawke said and laughed softly. She locked her gaze onto his firm little green eyes. "You are as of now released from my guardianship until further notice."

"Good. That makes things much easier," Fenris said firmly and dragged her back into the wildest, most ardent kiss and an embrace so tight she felt the hotness of his skin clamping and reaching the very nerves of her soul. He stood there, all devoid of shame and doubts, locking his lips onto her that spelled fire on them and made her shudder. He crushed her against him totally. He held the kiss for a long moment. But instead of breaking away again all cleared-eyed and kissing her forehead goodbye as if she were chaste again, Fenris forced her mouth open, all-sober and knowing, and she let him slip his serpent tongue into hers. Hot, hot were his lips, but even hotter was his tongue, harrowing all the warmth and strength of the sunny skies of the north into her mouth, and the sturdiness and unconquerable force of the most decisive wild tiger. He tilted his head to better suit their kiss, seeming now as an all-knowing lover all devoid yet again of any doubts or fears. He caught her face in his hands, and those were just as ardent and feverish almost. Even his breathing was ardent as he kissed her so firmly. Even those few groans of pleasure he let escape his mouth every time she bit his lower lip and he remained locked to her and that feminine, alluring power she held over him.

It felt like an eternity that they this, and then just a wisp of time when she found herself lying next to him and staring at the crack she made in the wall. He'd been stroking her hair as he had her enclosed in his arms all upon his chest. She kept almost too silent, she felt like a melted pot of honey just lying there until the wrath of the apocalypse. He wasn't far from that wish either. "Hawke," he finally let escape his lips.

"I'm drowsy. I can hardly form words," she said in a low voice.

"What a blessing," he said.

"There is no need for such an insult," she murmured. "But I forgive you."

His lips formed a mocking smile as he looked up at him, and then there came from him a wicked laughter. "Then I am content."

"I will fall asleep," she said with her eyes closed. "I can't stay."

"A voice of reason," he said meanly, and grinned all-knowing. "Pleasure to finally have you acquaintance."

"It's like your second nature to be arrogant, isn't it?" she murmured with an elusive smile.

"It's purely involuntary," Fenris said with a little smile and brought her to his lips again. He kissed her more softly this time, already devoid of his rough manly kisses, but still hot and stamped with that familiar ardency of his.

Then she moved, the softness of her smaller body suddenly snatched from him, in a movement so graceful and swift despite her weariness that she seemed now poised in the air beside the bed, her hand clutching his for an instant, then letting it go. And then he looked up to see her looking down at him, standing on the floor in the shuddering pool of light beneath the one roaring candle in the room. "Good night, Fenris."

He caught her smile and nodded with his eyelids. "Good night, Hawke."