Chapter 2: Truth or Lie

He awoke with a gasp, his body ached and the sharp pain in his head made his vision all blurry. 'Where am I?' He wondered gathering up the soft red sheets in his hands he suddenly knew where he was. Memories hit him like a Gholem's punch. His hands desperately searched the bed. 'Let me find her, let it all be a bad dream…'. He found only an empty bed. His vision slowly began to clear, and the familiar surroundings of Hawke's bedroom took shape, but Hawke was nowhere to be found. He hurriedly tried to leave the bed but his legs buckled underneath him and he fell to the floor.

"AAAAARRRGG!" He screamed in anguish.

Bethany's face appeared above him.

"Your leg is broken," She said, "You ought to stay off it."

She put an arm around him and half carried, half dragged him to the bed. She looked down considering him coldly.

"Hawke, she may be in trouble we need to…" Fenris started in a rush.

"Avaline has half the city guard looking for her." Bethany said, cutting him off, "Your help will not be required, you've done enough."

An awkward silence fell between them. Bethany had never been friendly with him, but she was usually civil.

"Bethany, I'm so sorry…" Fenris said.

"I don't want your apologies, elf." Bethany growled, "I've lost my father, my brother, my mother and now, because of you, my sister may be lost to me as well."

"Do you think you're the only one who has lost something in this?" Fenris asked, his anger started flaring up, "If I could have stopped her I would have."

"Spare me," Bethany said, "Something like this was bound to happen. You traipsed into her life like you belonged there, but the truth is you didn't belong there. No, you were destined to ruin her from the moment you first loved her. If you really cared for her at all, you would have walked away."

Fenris' let out a small grunt as if he had been punched, it would have been kinder if she had punched him.

"Get out." Fenris said through clenched teeth, "Now."

Bethany's righteous anger faltered under Fenris' cold rage, she backed out the door and left. Fenris swung his fist and smashed the lamp sitting next to the bed. Shattered glass and oil sprayed across the room, but it didn't make him feel any better. He slumped back into the bed. Rage, sorrow, guilt and pain flooded through him. He felt so weak, weaker even than he had felt being worked over by Deavon's thugs. Bethany's accusation bounced around in his head 'You were destined to ruin her from the moment you first loved her'. Memories came to him as he drifted into a fitful sleep, and he dreamed…

The night was warm and the full moon was so bright it caused the trees to cast dappled shadows on the ground. Hawke strolled beside him with that casual but dangerous swagger she reserved for when she was getting ready for a fight. Fenris could see the orange glow of a camp fire in the clearing ahead, he gestured to Hawke and they both went into a crouch to creep up on the camp. Their cautious silence was unnecessary; the camp was bustling with laughter, drinking and bawdy songs. On the outskirts of the camp people milled about locked in roughhewn cages or chained to the ground. The bleakness surrounding them made for a stark contrast to the cheerfulness of the slavers. Fenris scanned the camp and his heart sank.

"There's too many of them." He whispered sadly, "There weren't supposed to be this many."

"I count twenty," Hawke replied back, "We can take 'em"

"It's too dangerous," Fenris said.

He might have been willing to risk his own life against those odds, but Hawke had been a truer friend than he had ever had and he would not let his reckless nature put her in such danger.

"We're at least half a day's walk back to Kirkwall," Hawke replied, "If we leave now to get reinforcements they could be gone by the time we get back."

Fenris looked again at the would-be slaves, bound in the darkness. He and Hawke could give them their freedom back, or they could get themselves killed. Hawke touched his arm lightly.

"Think about it, Fenris," She said, "I'm going to circle the perimeter and take out any sentries they've put up. If we don't engage them directly the least I can do is make the bastards bleed a little."

Fenris watched her slip away. Somehow, despite the clear bright night she managed to disappear into the shadows. He turned his eyes back to the camp as he considered their options. He knew Hawke was right, it was either fight now or turn away. He flexed his sword hand as he watched the men before him. Most had bottles of wine or flasks of ale in their hands, but Fenris knew he could not count on that as an advantage. Alcohol sometimes lent courage to cowardly men making them a terror in battle.

A shrill scream pierced the night air. Fenris instinctively drew his sword. In the camp a burly slaver pushed a woman towards the camp fire.

"What ya doing with that one, Sol?" Someone called out.

"Fixin' to have a little fun." Sol replied. He reached around to grab the woman's backside. She slapped him in the face.

"Oh, she's got a little fight in her." He laughed and grabbed her by the bodice of her dress and pulled down tearing it wide open. The woman fell to her knees sobbing and covering herself with her hands. Fenris involuntarily jerked forward to help her but stopped himself. Without Hawke it was suicide to intervene, all he could do is watch as Sol fumbled with his belt buckle. He had his pants half way down when he jerked forward and fell, an arrow sticking out of the back of his head. The woman screamed again scooting backwards from the corpse. The boisterous camp fell into as still silence. Another arrow flew through the air catching another slaver in the chest. The silence broke with the sound of weapons being drawn and shouting men. Everyone seemed to move at once. Yet another arrow flew through the air but missed its target altogether. Fenris rushed forward, the slavers were so distracted with finding the source of the arrows that they didn't notice him until he was among them. His first arcing slash took down two men and nicked a third. He got in a few more vicious blows before the remaining men turned on him. He moved defensively warding off the blows of multiple blades. Slowly, men were moving around his sides to flank him. An axe flew at him from left field, too quick for Fenris to block. From behind Fenris a shining blade flashed like a striking snake, it turned aside the axe blade and slashed its owner in the face. Hawke spun around to his right side, driving back the men and funneling into the path of Fenris' sword. Fenris had fought with others in the past, but it had never been as good as it was with Hawke. He could rely on her to watch his back and keep him safe. They moved as one and their foes fell, one by one. Fenris parried a desperate blow from the last man standing. He reached into his chest and crushed his heart and the man was dead before he hit the ground. Fenris scanned the battlefield scattered with the broken bodies of dead or dying men. The slave woman Sol had accosted sat amongst the corpses, trembling with fear. Fenris bent down and tore the cloak off one of the fallen men. He pulled the woman to her feet and settled the cloak around her shoulders.

"It's ok, you're safe now." He said attempting to comfort her.

She threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. Fenris stiffened uncomfortably and looked over at Hawke for help but she was moving from body to body, giving mercy to the men who were not yet dead.

"We must free the others." The slave woman said grabbing him by the hand and pulling him towards the cages.

"I…" he began, looking again towards Hawke.

"I think it's your turn to be the hero tonight," Hawke said with a laugh, "You're more suited to rescuing damsels in distress anyhow."

So he went with the woman striking chains, opening cages. There was more awkward crying and hugging as well. Fenris was relieved when they were all done. Hawke had cleared all the bodies out of the camp and piled all the slaver's gear by the fire. She moved among the slaves, dividing up the coin she had found on the bodies.

"What will we do now?" Someone asked.

"My suggestion is to camp here tonight." Hawke said, "In the morning, make your way back to your homes."

Of course it wasn't that easy. Hawke helped to organize the camp, while Fenris showed a few of the men some basic sword techniques in case some wayward slavers returned. When he was confident they knew enough to defend themselves he left them to their practice and went looking for Hawke. She was nowhere to be found within the camp. When he asked some of the women in the camp they pointed him off into the forest.

He followed the trail a ways into a clearing occupied by a small pond. Hawke's armor and weapons sat in a tidy pile at its bank. In the pond Hawke lounged against the bank, her head propped up against a pile of rocks. Her usually tied back hair was loose, the crimson locks spilled over her shoulders and into the water. Despite the fact she was fully clothed something felt indecent about the whole situation. Fenris had never seen her look so…womanly.

"Are you going to stand there watching or are you going to join me?" Hawke said, making Fenris jump.

"I can't swim." Fenris said defensively.

"The water's shallow," Hawke replied, "Come on Fenris. You're covered in blood; a bath would do you good."

Fenris sighed and began to remove his armor. He felt strangely naked without it, even in his mansion he slept in his armor more often than not. He slipped into the water and was surprised to find it quite warm. He tilted his head back letting the water seep into his hair, it felt heavenly. He let out a low moan of approval. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught Hawke looking at him appraisingly. He held his breath and dunked his head under the water, hoping Hawke didn't see the blush spreading across his cheeks. He felt so silly. He was no stranger to the lusty looks of women, but why did he feel so uncomfortable when Hawke did it? When he came up for air Hawke had her head back against the rocks and her eyes closed. 'I must have imagined it.' He thought to himself, raking his fingers through his wet hair.

"I told you we could take 'em." Hawke said, breaking the silence.

"We didn't have much of a choice after you shot one of them in the head." Fenris replied.

"What that man was about to do to that woman… You would have never forgiven yourself if we just let it happen." She said.

"Ah I see, so it's all about me now." He replied jokingly.

"Well, I can forgive myself just about anything if the reasons are right." Hawke said, "But I know you Fenris. You carry too much already, you didn't need to add this to the list."

She rose out of the water and moved towards the bank. Her loose blouse clung to her skin showing soft curves where Fenris was accustomed to seeing hard steel. He turned away and busied himself with scrubbing the blood out of his clothes and skin. He tried to push thoughts of those soft curves out of his head. This was Hawke, a woman who could tear through a dozen men, not some cheap whore at the Blooming Rose.

"I filched some whiskey from the camp." Hawke said from the bank, "Will you drink with me?"

He heard the sound of a popping cork and he turned forcing himself to look at the bottle in her hand rather than the unraveling laces of her blouse. He lifted himself onto the bank and sat down besides her leaving his feet to dangle in the water. Hawke took a long swig.

"Let's play a game," She said passing the bottle to Fenris, "It goes like this. I ask you a question, and you can either tell me the truth or a lie. I try and guess which it is, if I guess right you take a drink if, I don't I take a drink."

"Why?" Fenris asked.

"What do you mean why?" Hawke said.

"What is the purpose of the game?" He said.

"So we can get to know each other better," She replied, "And to get drunk."

"Ok..." Fenris said. He took a sniff of the bottle, the whiskey was so strong it made his eyes water. "When you talk about your life as a slave it always sounds so horrible. Was there anything at all that made you happy back then?" Hawke asked.

"Denarius had this cook, an old woman named Maggie." Fenris replied after some thought, "She used to make these little pear cakes, sometimes she would make extras and let me have some. I loved those pear cakes."

"Well that's the truth," Hawke said, "You're bad at this game."

Fenris shrugged and took a swig from the bottle. The alcohol burned down his throat, but left a warm feeling in his chest.

"Your turn," he said, "Why did you really agree to come with me tonight?"

"You aren't the only person who wants to see slaves freed, Fenris." Hawke said, "I came for them."

"No," Fenris said watching her face, trying to glean the truth from those gray eyes, "That isn't the truth, at least not all of it."

Hawke took the bottle from Fenris and drank deeply. She looked at him thoughtfully.

"Remember when you told me about your escape from Denarius. You told me he ordered you to kill the fog warriors that were protecting you, and you did." Hawke took a deep breath, "If Denarius ordered you to kill me, would you?"

"I don't know," Fenris replied.

She gave him a hard look as if she was trying to see into his soul, she handed him the bottle.

"Yes you do." She said and Fenris took a long drink. She was right, he knew he would never hurt her. Why couldn't he tell her that? He suddenly felt light headed, the whiskey was taking effect. A question popped into his head, something that had always bothered but he had never known why. The alcohol gave him just enough courage to ask.

"Did you sleep with Isabella?" He asked staring at his feet in the water.

"Yes, she was spectacular!" Hawke said gleefully.

"The truth…" he said sadly holding the bottle out towards Hawke. She pushed it back towards him laughing.

"That isn't to say she didn't try." Hawke said as Fenris took another drink. He wondered why he felt so relieved.

"Did you sleep with Isabella?" Hawke asked.

"No." Fenris said. He could feel a blush burning on his cheeks as he remembered a night at the Hanged Man when things with Isabella had come very close.

"You liar!" Hawke said.

"Truly," He said, "Do you take me for some sort of whore?"

"No," Hawke said, taking a drink, "But Isabella can be very persistent, and she finds you to be quite… striking."

Fenris' head was spinning and he was well and truly drunk.

"What about you?" Fenris asked hesitantly, "Do you find me striking?"

"You aren't exactly my type…" She said, and it was her turn to blush.

"I didn't ask if I was your type," He said, "I asked if you thought I was attractive."

"Shut up, you know you're pretty," Hawke said, shoving him playfully.

He grabbed her wrist pulling her towards him. She shifted her body weight pushing him over. They wrestled in the grass. He was stronger than her but he could find no purchase on her lithe body. Shortly he found himself on his back with Hawke straddled him holding each of his arms down above his head. He struggled a little but her warm body pressed hard against him, holding him down. He looked up at her, she bit her lip looking back down at him hungrily. It was so unexpected and yet it felt so right. Suddenly he wanted her more than anything. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes offering himself to her. A silken strand of her hair brushed against his lips as she moved closer causing a tingle to spread throughout his body.

"Please…" He whispered weakly.

The sharp sound of a breaking branch shattered everything. Hawke shot up and twisted to meet the gray figure as it came barreling down on them. By the time Fenris could find his feet a man's dead body lay before Hawke. She held his bloody sword in her left hand… but she was right handed. His eyes fell on her right arm. It was torn open from shoulder to wrist.

"You're hurt!" He cried, not able to think of anything more eloquent to say.

"Yeah, that's quite a scratch," She said. She tried to take a step forward but stumbled and fell to her knees. Fenris rushed forward, he tore off her sleeves and used the fabric to staunch the flow of blood.

"We need to find help." He said scooping her up into his arms. He rushed into the forest back towards the slaver's former camp. He glanced down at Hawke, her face was pale and her lips were blue.

"Hawke," he said, giving her a shake. She didn't respond.

"Lilah!" He shouted, her first name sounding strange to his ears but her eyes opened slowly, "You need to stay awake, talk to me."

"Pretty Fenris," Hawke said, delirious with blood loss and probably still a little drunk. Her head fell against his chest, "I was going to kiss you."

"I know." Fenris said.

"It would have been so nice," She mumbled.

Fenris grit his teeth as the camp came into site. It was pointless to think about how nice it might have been the moment was gone now. As soon as he entered the camp he began shouting for help. He lay Hawke down by the fire a crowed began gathering around them. A gnarled old woman pushed through the crowd. She laboriously bent to her knees and gave Hawke's open wound a poke.

"I'll be needing some strips of cloth, some of that whiskey, a pair of tongs, and plenty of water." She said, nobody moved, "Well, be quick about it!"

There was a mad scramble as people rushed about the camp. Shortly the woman had everything she asked for. She uncorked the bottle of whiskey.

"You, elf." The old woman said pointing at Fenris, "You'll need to hold her down."

Obediently Fenris placed his hands on Hawke's shoulders. The old woman upended the bottle pouring the amber liquid directly into the gash on Hawke's arm. Hawke's body jerked but Fenris held her down. Her eyes shot open wide with shock.

"It's ok," Fenris said, "You'll be ok, it's just going to hurt a bit."

The old woman took the tongs and plucked a glowing red ember from the fire. Hawke turned her head to look at her, gaping. Fenris placed a hand under her chin and gently pulled her face towards him.

"Look at me," He said.

When the old woman placed the glowing ember against Hawke's skin she clenched her teeth but she remained still. She held Fenris' gaze, the shock in her eyes was replaced with a steely determination. An odd feeling came over him then, something he could not place. In the course of a single night he felt like everything had been upended. The old woman finished her work by wrapping Hawke's arm in the strips of cloth.

"She'll need to see a proper doctor," She said, "But as long as she rest the night she should be just fine."

The relief that flooded Fenris then was like a revelation. The odd feeling suddenly had a name, it was hope and despair all wrapped up together. He was in love with Lilah Hawke.

Author's Note:

I'd like to thank everyone who commented on and favorited my story. I hope you all enjoy the subsequent chapters just as much.

To answer one of the questions I received this story may end up being quite lengthy (I do have a clear plan for where it's going) but I tend to write quite slowly, so it may take a while.