Disclaimer: Bioware owns the Dragon Age Universe, and from the amount of time I spend on the game and writing about it, they evidently own me, too.

A/N: Sorry. Not much food in this chapter. Just one cake… But more coming. Just got back from a 9 day Caribbean cruise and the food was awesome! Death by chocolate… what a way to go!

Chapter 2

The Way to a Man's Heart

By: Emantsal

"What's in the bags Hawke?" Varric asked as the expedition prepared to leave for the Deep Roads. She and Fenris had loaded them in the back of the last wagon, three burlap bags tied closed with twine.

"Hard tack and jerky. Just have a feeling we'll need it," she replied, looking specutively at the hired help and supplies Bartrand had pulled together for their expedition. "There's no telling how long we'll be down there and from talking with Anders, there aren't many corner markets to pop over to and grab some lunch."

"Bartrand's nothing if not cheap," the dwarf replied, eyeing the questionable quality of the hired swords his brother was bringing along on their adventure.

"Anyway, you know me and food. Just want to make sure we have enough supplies with us."

"Don't let her fool you, Varric. I do believe there are more than a few bags of dried fruits and nuts, as well as a few sweet breads. The ovens and stoves have been going nonstop for days," Fenris added to the conversation as he jumped down from the back of the wagon.

"Hey, I even made us a Happy Adventuring cake for when we camp tonight. It has coconut, toasted nuts, creamy caramel frosting, and chocolate drizzled all over it. There would have been coffee to go with it, but I couldn't find any in the market this morning."

"You're killing me Hawke. Do you know how many nights I've gone to sleep dreaming of your Lemon Cake or that custard thing you made last month? I think Bianca's becoming jealous." He turned to look at the elf and continued, "And how in the name of the ancestors do you manage to not gain an ounce, Broody?"

"I'm just glad my sister keeps us busy training when we're not out making coin or we'd all be as big as the side of a house," Bethany laughed as she joined the group. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the elf stiffen, but at least now he didn't openly glare at her anymore. He must really like her sister. He no longer glared at her and preached to anyone within listening distance about the dangers of mages and abominations. Of course every time she saw those lyrium scares on his skin she wondered if he didn't have more than a right to his hatred of mages. Certainly the man that had done that had been a monster in every sense of the word.

Ryann quickly moved to hug her sister and the two walked toward the head of the wagons arm in arm, heads bent towards each other, one pale blonde, the other dark brunette, laughter floating on the breeze behind them.

"You're getting better Broody. You didn't even glare at Sunshine today. I'd say that real progress."

"Hawke's sister may not be like Denarius, but every mage has the potential to become an abomination. Hawke is a strong willed woman. It seems to reason that her sister may be also."

"They are two of a kind, aren't they? And you know Bethany has no love for blood mages. Just look at how she treats Merrill."

"Even so, I will keep an eye on the mage, if only to protect Hawke."

"I think Hawke can look out for herself," the Dwarf replied, falling in beside the elf as the wagons and adventures prepared to move out towards the place marked on the maps Anders had supplied.

"Even so dwarf, I feel I must protect the creator of such sublime dishes as fried chicken with creamy potatoes, or that most delicious concoction of crispy grilled squab with baby summer squash in a light citrus butter sauce."

"So, what you're really saying is you like having your own personal chef."

"The unlimited use of my kitchen in return for a small portion of the goods produced seems like a reasonable request. If you had your own personal brewery in your room…"

"I see your point, Broody."

Ahead of them, the wagons began to slowly pull out, and by sundown the expedition was well away from Kirkwall and headed towards the setting sun.

Shadows beyond the edges of the torchlight. Behind and ahead, deep darkness that seemed to harbor every fear, every nightmare that ever existed. Into that black hell they descended, deeper than anyone had gone in the Deep Roads in over a millennia. Darkspawn taint was heavy in the stale air, and Ryann struggled with her memories of their escape from Loithering and Carver's death. She knew Bethany felt it just as keenly. Moving closer, she took her sister's hand and held it as they walked along. Behind them, Fenris kept any eye on the pair, his expression unreadable.

He didn't know if he had any family, but watching Hawke and her sister fascinated him. It also confused him to no end. They constantly touched. They leaned close and murmured to each other, even in this black hell of a world…

But Hawke didn't forget him or Varric. She always made time to sit with him and talk, just like before, in the kitchen of his Hightown mansion. Many times they sat up after most everyone retired for the evening. Some nights they talked, and others they sat in companionable silence. Often they shared a cup of wine, and he'd come to live for those moments when their fingers would touch as they passed the cup between them.

The first time, he'd jerked his hand away so fast he'd almost spilt the wine. His only experiences of being touched had always involved punishment and pain. He'd spent years avoiding physical contact. So caught up in his despair and memories, he had almost missed the concern and hurt in her eyes. She hadn't said anything, hadn't asked, hadn't tried to pry. More than anything he'd wanted to explain, but his past was too raw, too painful.

She sat the cup between then, careful not to touch him. After taking a sip, he held it out for her to take, and she hesitated.

"Do they hurt?" she asked, and he knew she was referring to the scares that covered his body. She bit her lip as she hesitantly took the cup, her movements delicate and careful, trying to make sure her fingers didn't touch his.

"It's not that," he replied, finally turning his gaze to hers. "Touch… physical contact… all I can remember, all I've ever known has been… unpleasant."

"You don't have to tell me, Fenris."

"I know. But I want to. You are the closest to a friend I've ever known…"

"I thought we were already friends, Fenris. I've thought of you as such for some time now." Her eyes were warm, and his heart felt funny, like it was too big for his chest.

"I've watched you, you and your sister… I don't remember my family, if we were close, if… I've ever been touched as she and you do…"

Just the thought made him tremble.

"Give me your hand," she said, and he immediately recognized that determined look in her eyes. She sat the cup down and slowly reached for his gauntleted hand.

Heart pounding, he kept his eyes fixed on hers as he felt warm fingers touch his. Nothing had prepared him…

Ryann slowly moved her fingers over his. She hadn't expected the tender emotions that swept though her heart and soul. Terrified of what she was coming to understand, but unable to stop, she curled her fingers around his and just held his hand. How long they stayed that way, she didn't know. Somewhere along the line she began slowly moving her thumb back and forth over his, the coolness of his bronzed skin a sharp contract to the heat she felt racing through her body.

A cool popped in the fire, breaking the spell they both seemed under. Slowly withdrawing her hand, she murmured, "You are a free man, Fenris. Don't let him continue to control your life." She left him sitting by the fire, returning to the tent she shared with her sister before she blurted out things better left unsaid.

Beside the fire Fenris looked to make sure his body hadn't turned to ash. The fire that had swept through him at her touch had had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the woman, everything to do with a certain human who had invaded his life and made herself perfectly happy in his kitchen, everything to do with Hawke and the strange feelings he'd been denying since he first laid eyes on her.

Oh, he knew physical attraction for what it was. There were parts of his life with Denarius he would forever deny, even to himself. It was much easier to deny them than to deal with the memories of what the magister had…

Bah… he'd said he wouldn't go there…

But Hawke, that was another matter. She acted as if she actually cared about him. But then she seemed to care about everyone in their little band of misfits. He couldn't let himself think that it was something more than it was… And he wouldn't let himself come to care for her. No. Just look at what had happened to those he'd come to care for before…

In an ancient Thaig, they encountered their first Darkspawn. Deeper and deeper they went into the ancient underground world. Ryann and her sister spoke and laughed less, the very air seeming to become twisted by the taint that permeated everything.

The battles were fierce and bloody, and Hawke always made sure she checked everyone's wounds. She knew what darkspawn blood did, Aveline's husband's death weighing heavily on her mind.

"Please let Bethany look at your arm, Fenris. It's a deep cut and needs stitches and a bandage at the very least," she pleaded, hurrying over to crouch beside him on the cold floor, placing a lantern beside them. They'd managed to make it back to the camp, and Varric was currently having a yelling match with Bartrand, who thought they should have continued to scout ahead regardless of their injuries.

"I understand she is your sister, Hawke, but I will never willingly allow a mage to touch me, ever again," he snarled, already attempting to put a hastily thrown together elfroot poultice around the cut.

"You are the most stubborn man I know," she replied tersely, ignoring the disapproval in his eyes as she reached for the poultice and his injured arm. "Maker damn it. You know Bethany is nothing like him," she continued, working to gently work his gauntlet down and off his hand. With a touching softness rarely shown to others, she removed his poor attempt at a healing poultice and began cleaning the wound with far more care and tenderness than really seemed necessary.

Opening her small medical kit, she began to take out a needle and thread, but when he shook his head, she put them back and simply packed elfroot into the wound and wrapped clean bandages around it.

"Why let a mage touch me if you are more than capable of tending the wound yourself."

"You just want my hands on you," she teased tiredly, tying the cloth strips off and picking his gauntlet up to help him push his hand back inside.

"Better your touch and a bandage than magic," he replied just as tiredly, bitterness at his past even now present.

"Just another in a long list of things we'll never see eye to eye on," she sighed. "I guess I should just count myself lucky that you like my cooking so much or you'd have left long ago." Maker he was like a dog worrying with a bone. Magic was bad. Magic was wrong. Magic was evil. Magic was a curse… Mages were a curse…

She knew his former master had been a complete monster, knew he had good reason to hate magic, to hate mages… But honestly, Bethany had never been anything but kind to him, even when he treated her like so much dirt beneath his feet.

"She is my sister, and she'd never been anything but kind to you, Fenris," she said, reaching into her pouch for a healing potion and some stale water to wash it down with and handed them to him.

"I am aware of that Hawke. But magic… mages have colored my entire life with pain and misery, what little I remember of it. Your memories of your sister and father color your life. Though we have fought blood mages and abominations, you have those memories to look at the world through, memories of happiness and joy. Besides, neither your father nor your sister ever burned pure lyrium into your flesh…" the last said through clenched teeth as he slipped the gauntlet back over the fresh bandage.

"You're right. Perhaps I should just go put a knife through her heart right now. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before she begins consorting with demons."

"Joke if you will…"

"No, really. Why stop there. Come on, we've seen templars possessed. Perhaps there were mages somewhere in their family lines. My father was a mage. My sister is a mage. It only stands to reason that I must be susceptible. Maybe you should put me down before I turn into some rabid beast." She was really worked up now, and without thinking, grabbed his hand, palming one of her own daggers into it. She wrapped both of her hands around his and brought the point to her chest, over her heart.

"A quick jab up between the ribs and a hard twist…"

Fenris felt his breath lock in his lungs. She was wrong about mages, so wrong… but she was fire and passion and totally devoted to those she loved and protected. He wanted to pull away, but just being this close was...

But he knew what mages were capable of, knew the horror they were capable of inflicting on their victims, remembered the agony of the blade as it carved into his flesh, the white hot pain of lyrium burning and fusing with living tissue…

Anger raced through his blood, the fist held tightly between her hands beginning to glow a pale blue as the lyrium phased and pulsed, a living weapon.

"I wouldn't need a blade, Hawke," he bit out, managing to yank his hand from between hers.

"You're right about that," she bit out before rising and heading over to her sister, leaving him wondering at her cryptic remark.

It didn't dawn on him until some time later that she'd come to check on him first, even before checking on her own sister…

She'd been pushing them hard for days. Supplies were getting very short and tempers were even shorter.

"Maker damn it sister, can you please quit dawdling?" she finally yelled when Bethany fell behind again.

"I'm sorry Ryann. I'm just so tired," her sister replied in a small voice that spoke volumes.

"We're all tired," she replied, just wanting to get the hell out of the ground, so tired of the stench of the Deep Roads.

"Sunshine doesn't look so good Hawke," Varric observed from where he'd been walking beside the brunette mage. He'd made it his job to watch out for her as well as keep a lookout at their back.

"We all look and feel like hell," she replied, voice like steel. "We need to keep going."

"I'll try to keep up sister," Bethany replied in a little voice, already getting raw elfroot from her pack to chew on.

"Just a little longer and we'll rest Bethie. I promise," Ryann sighed, already heading out.

Fenris kept pace with Hawke and Varric kept an eye on Bethany and their rear. Every since Bartrand had betrayed them, their small group had pushed to find a way out. They'd battled Darkspawn and demons, and in the end, they'd found a treasure trove that had rivaled the lyrium idol Varric's brother had betrayed them for. Of course they'd had to battle an ancient demon to get it and almost died in the process…

Behind them he heard the mage stumble… a strange sense of foreboding creeping over him like a cold wind blowing…

"No. NO!.. It's not the taint. You're going to be fine. You're just tired Bethie. It's not the taint," she pleaded, terrified of loosing her sister. On a dirty floor Hawke cradled her sister against her chest and rocked back and forth. Fenris and Varric could only look on as the mage visibly faded before their eyes.

"You can't do this to me Bethany. You can't leave me," she begged, her voice becoming hoarse and broken, tears running unchecked down her face.

"I'm sorry Ryann. I'm sorry… It hurts," the young woman managed to gasp out as the pain of the taint ran rampant through her body. "It burns Ryann… You know what you have to do."

"NO! We'll get help. We just have to get you to the surface."

"Sister… take care of mother…"

"I'm not doing this Bethie. You're going to get better…" Maker no. This wasn't fair.

"I love you sister…" Pain was clear in her eyes. "Please, it hurts to much… burns…" Ryann could see the taint spreading quickly, thin streaks of sick grey beginning to cover her sister's skin.

"Bethie, I…"

"Please…" breathless and unable to hold the pain at bay any longer, Ryann watched as her sisters body began to spasm and jerk uncontrollably.

"Sister," she sobbed, the harsh sound echoing through the cavernous hell.

Fenris watched with dawning horror as Hawke drew a slim dagger and puller her sister close. No, she couldn't… she wouldn't…

You're right. Perhaps I should just go put a knife through her heart right now. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before she begins consorting with demons…

Beside him, Varric turned his head and closed his eyes, but he watched, unable to look away.

It was all over quickly, the only sound afterwards a soft keening that rose to a gut wrenching sob. In his chest, his heart seemed to twist and shudder. He might not remember his family, didn't know if he'd ever loved anyone, but he knew Hawke had loved her sister. How in the name of the Maker would she ever get over having to end her own sister's life?

She was sitting beside the fire alone, seemingly watching the flames dance and twist. Varric had taken first watch and after setting up his and Hawke's sleeping bags, he walked over and sat beside her on the cold floor. It was the first time he'd reached for her hand. He'd only meant to offer what comfort he could, but she'd looked at him with such pain in her eyes… Lips trembling she'd promptly collapsed against him, small sobs and hiccups against his neck. Uncomfortable as he was with closeness, with touch, he found his arms going around her, pulling her against his chest as the storm of sorrow washed over her.

Why? Why did she have to feel go damn good in his arms? Why now? Why at all? She'd called him friend. Even though they always argued about everything, especially mages and the help she gave the abomination, Anders, she believed him to be a friend.

But the things he was feeling as he held her in his arms were anything but friendly. Shit. What was the point, though… He was an escaped slave, an elf… Hawke was a woman who could have any man she wanted… There was no point in dwelling on things he could never have… no point at all…