Hello you guys? Having a good April? Hope it's better than mine. X.X I've been totally swamped with work, which is why this thing is out so late. Plus having to go through a bunch of college crap (college SUCKS somtimes). But, eh, life moves on right?

So, well, okay. I think this chapter sucks. The word was "hell" and this thing was hell on Earth to write, ha-ha-ha! Seriously. I'm not happy with it. I think I've just stared at the word document for like...half an hour trying to get a good feel for it, but I came up empty, so I just found a thread and followed it. Another reason why this is late. Not to crazy about it, hoping that the next chapter I post will be better than this crap. Lol. Hope you guys enjoy it somewhat though. I did try my best. But I just couldn't get at what I was going for here. I dunno. I'm completely up in the air about it, can you tell? XD Hawke still doesn't have a name, but I might just not give her one. It's kinda cool this way.

Also, this fic is probably rated T+ or M because, while this is NOT A LEMON, sex is heavily implied.

This chapter isn't connected to any of the other previous chapters. This is my version of Hawke's night after her mother dies (I have a funny story about this quest that I'll probably tell on my profile or something XD). Hedley is an awesome band and this song really helped me finally finish this damn thing. Haha. I'm going to be shortening the length of this collection severely (probably to only like 20 one shots or so) because I want to give writing a chaptered F!Hawke/Fenris story a shot! YAY! I have a few ideas spinning in my head right now, but we'll see. If I start one, it won't probably be until July.

Lastly, I just wanna say how awesome this community is! I mean, really guys, you're great! I get such nice reviews, and I notice that everyone always replies to the reviews I give, and they're so nice and grateful for them. I really appreciate your kindness, and I've decided that I'm going to be just as gracious as you all. Thanks for the inspiration and the encouragement. It's kinda what I live for. In short, all the/my readers and the writers for the F!Hawke Community kick ass!

Review if you wanna! Hope you enjoy. ;)

Fifth Movement: Hell

"And even if it sounds crazy, darling, I won't let you go.
And even if it don't ever stop raining, darling, I won't let you go.
And even if the world's burning, darling, I won't let you go.
Even if it sounds crazy, darling."

- Hedley, "I Won't Let You Go (Darling)"

A weight so relentless was crushing her chest, and she couldn't breathe. As she watched the last of the light drain from her mother's eyes, she could feel the core that held the pieces of who she was—her resolve, her optimism, her unwavering kindness—dissipate along with it. She was a hollow shell. A doll without its cotton. A lake without water. Everything had crumbled at her feet, and there was nowhere to walk. Stranded on a spit of land with naught to sustain her.

No. No, this wasn't real. It couldn't be. Yes. It was a dream. A nightmare from the Fade that had her in so deep that she just assumed that this was happening. If she closed her eyes tightly, focused on a single point of reality, she could be dragged out from this vision that could only have been created by a demon. Her eyelids squeezed together, and she thought about Kirkwall. The towering stone edifices with sharp pikes and steep arches. Her mansion in Hightown. The one her mother lived in as a girl. Velvet carpet. Smooth mahogany and oak furnishings. The smell of freesias from the flowerpots. Orana. Bodahn. Sandal.

She thought about Varric, who had a rough voice but a gentle laugh. Chest hair. Bianca. The Hanged Man. Isabela. Her wit and humor. Her beautiful dark hair. Her uncanny aptitude for making her smile even when she didn't want to. A Rivaini. The teaser. Aveline. Hawke's strong arm. She cared for her guardsman and her dear friends. Fereldan. Now a far-off memory. A distant land. Merrill. Her bubbly laugh and her cavalier attitude. How Hawke admired the way she found something good about everything. Happiness. Sebastian. The prince with the holy radiance that could sooth her just by standing close. Blue eyes. Starkhaven brogue. The Chantry. The Circle. Anders, who hated it. Anders, who had the touch of a healer. His eyes were warm and copper colored. He cared about her. And she cared about him. Affection. Love…

Fenris. His distant eyes that always kept her guessing. The way he made her heart beat at a quickened pace. A smile on his lips. Her name a kiss upon them. His hands on her skin. Snow white hair tickling his nose. His beautifully sculpted form. The night they made love. He had held her close, whispered to her things of adoration in a foreign tongue. Absolute pleasure. Desperately she clung to that image in her mind, trying with all her might to bring back that happiness and that pleasure. That could expel this horror. If she opened her eyes now, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that all she would see would just be her bedroom. Maybe Bodahn, Sandal, or, if she was lucky, Fenris, standing over her, persuading her to get up and start the day. And her mother would be there, too. Alive and smiling in that genteel way. Scolding her about marriage and rest.

But when she opened them, there was blood, dirt, and her mother's lifeless corpse in her arms.

And that's when she lost it.

She bawled. A bloodcurdling moan that resonated in the putrid foundry. Tears spurted from her eyes, searing them, and she was sure that they were slicing her cheeks open as they dribbled down. Burying her face in her mother's stomach, she lamented for her loss. Begged for her to return. Demanded that she had lost too much already for there to be more taken from her. The damp tears stained the white dress she was in, and when Hawke looked up at Leandra's face, pale and stationary, she felt unclean. Like touching her mother now could kill her in an instant. Frightfully, she dropped her and skittered away on her hands and knees, confused and anguished.

But she had to hold on to something. Hawke couldn't forgo some kind of comfort. Some kind of solace to let her know that she was here, walking this earth, and not gone like the rest of her family. She stood, and she trembled, neck drenched, clothes tattered, fits balled. Then she threw herself into the arms of whomever it was that was close behind her, and she held onto them with all of her might. Demons nor profanes could tear her from her anchor, and she hid herself inside that person, praying to whatever god or gods existed that they would not resist her.

And they didn't. Whoever it was she was she had forced herself upon held her close, and they smelt of sage, basil and sweet jasmine. An inebriating aroma. Hawke wasn't sure how long they stood together, wrapped in each other's arms, but it must have been too long, because, after a while, the person swept her off of her feet, one arm holding her top half into their chest, the other supporting her wobbly knees. Purposefully, Hawke removed herself from everything around her. Shut off her senses. Took refuge in the one carrying her. She refused to think of her mother, father, Carver or Bethany. She was alone now. Letting their faces cloud her thoughts would only bring back that ache. Hawke had to just not be.

Soon, she inadvertently recognized the softness of her bed in the estate, but the trigger had begun to take a domino effect on her. With touch brought back sound, sight and taste. And the more she kept, the more she would recall. And she couldn't recall. She wasn't ready. Her nails dug into the fabric of her rescuer's outfit, hoping that that was a clear message of what she wanted. They sat on the edge of her bed, stroking her hair, rocking her like a baby. She pleaded for the person to stay. To protect her. To not let her fall into the darkness.

But it was too late for that.

Hawke had lost what she had left of those that loved her most in one moment.

And she was the only person alive that deserved the blame.

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Triumphantly, Fenris tossed his four of a kind down on the table in front of Varric and Guardsman Donnic. He didn't admit it, but this was the first four of a kind he'd ever gotten in a game of poker, not to mention it being in kings. That had to call for some debonair card showing. If not out of pride, but to provoke an outraged reaction from Varric. He never failed to amuse when he was bested, especially if he had a good hand, like he did now.

Varric's fist shook the rickety table of the Hanged Man, making the wine in their mugs shake back and forth like a stormy sea.

"You lucky son of a bitch!" Varric hooted, running his hands through his blonde hair. "I had a straight! You're lucky you aren't Isabela, or I'd call you a cheater."

"I heard that!" Isabela shouted from across the room.

"Call me a liar!" Varric hollered back.

Isabela smirked and turned back to her drink.

"That's what I thought."

"At least you had something worth fighting for," moaned Donnic, resting his chin in his hand and disregarding his pair of nines. "I got shafted. Dammit all."

"That's a little crude coming from you, guardsman," Varric eyed Donnic, intrigued by his slightly vulgar tongue. "Does the Captain allow her men to speak in such a way?"

"On her better days, she's more tolerant of it…" Donnic's eyes tilted up, remembering.

Fenris just snorted, snaking an arm around his diminutive pile of winnings. Furtively, his eyes flitted around the dank tavern, wondering when the rest of their group would finally show up. Fenris had been with Varric and Isabela for the majority of the day, so he had no idea where they had scurried off to. More importantly, he was concerned for Hawke. Fenris would not have called her punctual, but she wasn't consistently late like Merrill. He had no valid reason to fret, but that annoying pang in his stomach continued. He casually tossed his hair from his eyes. No, there was something amiss. He did not fear for Hawke's safety, but he could sense a disturbance, though naming it was the tricky part.

"Hey. Elf," Varric's fingers snapped, dissolving his thoughts. "Eyes over here."

"Ah," he scratched his head sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I my mind wandered."

"Gosh-goly-gee," Varric mocked, eyes widening. "I wonder where? Could it be that you're perturbed by the tardiness of our beautiful hero Hawke?"

Fenis flushed, fiddling with a copper piece. "I am not perturbed."

"Ahhh, but you don't deny that you were thinking about her?" Varric pointed at him with the jack of clubs. "Somebody's developed a bit of a crush, eh?"

Fenris scowled, averting Varric's accusatory gaze. "I have not—"

"Liar!" Isabela called, making her way over to the men and sliding into a chair beside the former slave. "Don't you put on airs, you stud. Tell him what really happened."

Varric's whole character perked up. "Is that the scent of a story I'm picking up here? And, if my dwarven nose is correct, which it always is, I'm betting it's scandalous too?"

"There's nothing—" Fenris started, but he found himself trailing off.

What could he say? Denying the sexual encounter he had with Hawke months ago would shame her, but confirming it could ruin her reputation as a chaste role model. And if he admitted to their affair, he would also have to add in the fact that he had walked out on her, which didn't go over with Isabela very well when she had found out, so it could be the same with Varric and Donnic, too. Then would come the questions; ones that he made an effort to avoid. Why did he sleep with her? Why did he walk out after such and impetuous and intimate moment? Was it just to fulfill his own selfish needs? Was he drunk or out of his mind? He didn't know how to answer any of them…

Or…did he love her? Yearning coursing through his veins along with the blood and lyrium? Did he walk out because he was afraid? Thought she could find someone better? Didn't think he could have a happy life with her?

If those questions were asked, the appropriate answer would have to be yes.

Of course he loved her. Wanted her daily. He was afraid he would mar her and thought she could be happier with a man less complex as himself. Their passion would burn hot for a while, but he predicted that, as time passed, it would dwindle with a lack of kindling, leaving himself heartbroken. Too many things conspired against him. So he would watch her, pine for her, from afar, protecting, nurturing and adoring her without fear or remorse.

"That sounds like something to me," Donnic added. "You've nothing to worry about. We are your friends after all."

"Now that we've had the mandatory friendship declaration," Varric gestured to Aveline's beau. "please enlighten us, Ser Broody Elf. Or Isabela will."

Fenris was caught between a rock and a hard place, or he believed the saying went. If it did not come from him, there was a chance that Isabela would recant her own twisted version of the events, which did not bode well for him or Hawke. If he confessed, then he would have the guarantee that there would be no untrue rumors or lewd anecdotes tacked on to the explanation. It was the safest bet.

Fenris inhaled, then exhaled.

Folding his arms across his chest, he said daringly "I slept with Hawke."

Donnic straightened, and Varric dropped his hands to the table.

"Your shitting me." The dwarf stated.

"He's not," Isabela chuckled, swallowing a gulp of ale. "They did it. And, according to Hawke, it was hot and dirty."

Fenris blanched. "Did…did she really…say that?"

Isabela shrugged. "Not those exact words."

The elf's jaw clenched.

"It was just the way Hawke made it sound!" Isabela shook her head, her jewelry clanging. "From the way she talked about it, she made it seem like an…enjoyable experience."

The blood rushed back to his ears and neck. Fenris didn't know whether to be flattered or embarrassed.

"Looks like Hawke thinks you're good in the sack," Varric snorted. "Better keep that under wraps. You'll have even more ladies lined up to gawk at you."

"Or try and get you to prove Hawke right," Isabela said to him seductively.

Donnic laughed, Fenris brought a hand to his face.

"I've yet to see a woman try and bed me," Fenris grumbled, wishing Varric would just start another round of cards.

"You're joking right?" Donnic's brow furrowed. "That serving girl was practically drooling on you when she brought our drinks over?"

Serving girl? He hadn't even noticed a serving girl.

"I'm certain you exaggerate."

"Norah?" Varric guffawed. "You must be dense, you elf. She's got this face like a dead fish every time you walk in here. If she doesn't want to have your broody babies, I don't know who does."

Instinctively, Fenris sought out Norah the waitress in the hazy, drunken crowd. It took him a minute, but he finally spotted her carrying a tray over to a group of workers he assumed were Fereldan; if their sloppy attire was any indicator, they were probably employees of Hubert's Bone Pit. Fenris noticed that, when it came to features, she was the exact opposite of Hawke. While her hair and eyes were dark and her skin wan, Hawke's were light, and she had a faint tan from her days under the sun in Lothering. Norah was beautiful in her own right, but he found Hawke's features much more exotic.

The barmaid pulled her head up, and she caught him staring. Fenris beamed at her, unsure of what her reaction would be, but interested to see if Varric and Donnic were lying. Just as the dwarf described, she returned his gaze with huge round eyes and an emotionless expression. Alas, Norah was so preoccupied by the elf that she did not notice a very tall man standing between her and the destination of which she was to reach, and the whole tray of drinks collided with his back, soaking him in beer and wine.

Mortified, Norah immediately dropped to her knees and started picking up the empty pint cups, apologizing to the man profusely. A few people laughed, Isabela included, but Fenris felt responsible for her gaffe, and he stood from his seat, ready to assist the poor girl he had distracted. He wished he could say it was unintentional, but he had wanted some kind of reaction out of her, and he took the chance of it being something like this. Therefore, he felt obligated to help.

But Aveline came barreling through the door before he could take one step.

Her hair was lopsided, though not loose from its average style. There was blood and black dirt smeared on her guard uniform, but it was her wild green eyes that set Fenris on edge. She looked as if she'd seen her own death flash before her eyes, and she was powerless to stop it. Glancing at the rest of the group, they seemed just as concerned as he. Even Isabela had risen from her chair at the sight of the captain's disarray.

Donnic was at her side in no time, one hand gently grasping her arm.

"Are you all right, love?"

Aveline nodded to him briskly. She then pointed to the door with her thumb and said "Outside. Now."

Other than the city guard members, Fenris was the first one out of the door, silently praying that Hawke was out of harm's way. Isabela and Varric followed as Aveline led them to the set of hard stairs that led to Hightown, where he, Hawke and the guard resided. Once there, Aveline spun to face them, an exasperated hand pushing the stray hairs from her head out of her face. She looked exhausted.

"What happened?" Fenris said sternly.

"You look like an ogre just pushed you down," Isabela smirked. "Though I doubt that's possible."

"I'm in no mood, Isabela," Aveline mumbled, which was out of character. Isabela was taken aback.

"Where is Hawke?" Fenris pushed, twitching. "Is she all right? Is she hurt?"

Aveline shook her head. "She's alive."

Fenris' stomach fell.

Varric stepped forward. "Where's Blondie? Is he healing her already?"

"No," Aveline "Physically, she's fine. She's in no danger of dying."

"Venhedis!" Fenris snarled, throwing his hands in the air. "Noli terrere mei ita! Ubi est ipsa? Da mihi mei Hawke!"

"We can't understand you," Isabela sang. "Try speaking a language that we all know!"

Fenris ignored Isabela. He was too furious to speak in the common tongue. What he wanted to say he was not ready for them to hear. But he had to say it out loud, to know that it had been set free, else he might go mad from pent up emotions.

"Putting aside that babble," Varric rubbed his face. "Could you tell us what happened exactly? All this mysteriousness is going to give me a heart attack."

Aveline hung her head and didn't pull it back up when she muttered "Hawke's mother is dead."

Isabela gasped audibly, putting her fingers to her dark lips.

"Bloody flames," Varric swore, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me this is some sick joke."

"I wish it was," the red headed captain plopped down on the bottom step, her lover following suit.

Fenris felt more at ease. Glad that Hawke was out of danger, but woeful for the loss of Leandra. But there was a trickle of uncertainty amongst it, for he couldn't truly sympathize with Hawke, for he had no memory of any kind of family, if he ever had one. He was sure he did, but whether or not he knew who they were was also a clandestine detail. But that didn't take away from Hawke, or the fact that this would be fourth and last of her family left that had been ripped from her. She was hurting. And Fenris' uncomfortable feeling in the tavern now had justification. It was her torment.

"How did she…die?" Donnic asked prudently.

"That's the worst part," Aveline locked eyes with him, then changed to her group. "Hawke's mother had…received white lilies."

Everyone held their breath.

"You mean…" Isabela let her developing question hang.

Aveline pursed her lips, and she spoke blindly. "Those murders were committed by a…blood mage. He was trying to…resurrect his wife and Leandra…looked like her. So he…took pieces from the women he killed and-and…sewed them together…it was disgusting."

"Maleficarum," Fenris spat. Of course it was a mage. Who else could craft such a sinister plot?

"There was nothing any of us could do. Anders said that the magic from the blood mage was…keeping her alive, and, after Hawke killed the bastard, Leandra just…died in her arms."

"Balls…" Isabela groaned, kicking an imaginary rock on the ground.

"No wonder you said she was fine physically," Varric sighed heavily. "Emotionally, she's probably been destroyed. Both her parents and brother gone, and who knows were Bethany is…I'm getting teary just thinking about it."

"Where is she now?" Fenris pushed.

"Home," Aveline got back up on to her feet, her tone steady. She must have needed a moment to just breathe. "Hawke's…a mess, to put it nicely. I've never seen her in such a way. So…weak and helpless. Like a child."

Fenris' heart cracked. He couldn't even bear the thought of it.

"She couldn't even bear to hold Leandra after she died," Aveline continued, giving Donnic's hand a squeeze. "What surprised me even more is that, when she let the body go, she ran to Sebastian."

All of them, including Donnic, froze.

"She what?" the Rivaini moved closer to the group.

Aveline's eyes caught each of them, wary about going into detail, but doing it anyway.

"She…well, I don't see any way to approach this delicately, so I'll have to be blunt. Hawke just jumped into Sebastian's arms and…didn't move. Just cried her eyes out. Anders took Leandra…or…her body…back to his clinic so he could cremate her. Sebastian carried Hawke back home. I went with them, but Hawke begged him not to leave her, so their probably still at her mansion in Hightown. I came here alone."

A wave of mild jealously washed through Fenris. She had pleaded for him not to leave her, but was she so quick to replace him? And with Sebastian no less? A prince who had taken a vow of chastity? That didn't sound like his Hawke in the slightest.

"Wait a second, wait a second, wait a second," Varric waggled his hands. "You're telling me that Hawke threw herself at Choir Boy?"—Varric looked back at Fenris—"What happened to you?"

"Fenris never finished his story, Varric," Isabela teased. "He never told you about the part where he dumped her like a sack of rotten potatoes."

At that moment, Fenris wanted to rip out some of Isabela's organs and juggle them.

"Has all that lyrium gone to your head, or are you just dumb?" Varric slapped his palm to his face.

"I left for reasons too personal to explain, dwarf. Do not judge me without knowing the truth."

"I'm not saying you had your reasons, it's the principle of the thing! Even I wouldn't leave a woman that amazing."

"Do not make light of this," Fenris bit. "Just because I…it doesn't mean I do not care for her."

Varric ogled him as though he had called a demon harmless.

"Yup, I was right, you're dumb."

"I am not."

"My ass. As of right now, you're the biggest idiot I know."

"You—" Fenris growled.

"Enough!" Aveline interjected, firm and matronly. "Stop fighting. The past doesn't matter. Hawke is distraught and she needs us to be there for her. Do you realize she's all alone now? Everyone that loved her is either gone or dead!"

Fenris shifted. That was not true. He loved her. More than words could express. But Aveline did have a point. Hawke had lost everyone, save for her cohorts. They were the only ones left to let her know how much she was valued and appreciated. The only ones left that could help her when she was in trouble, celebrate with her when she succeeded, comfort her when she was at her lowest. She needed someone to encourage her. To praise her. To lend her a hand when she had nowhere else to go.

She needed someone to tell her that she was loved. How beautiful she was. How generous and loving she was. And he was more than willing to be that person.

Fenris could not find any empathy within him. He could not tell her that she would be okay; he didn't know. He'd never gone through this, and creating such feelings was a task even impossible to mages. But he could offer his shoulder to cry on. Hold her in the dark of night and swear on pain of death that he would never abandon her. Kiss her tears away. Cloud her mind with warmth and longing. And that had to count for something…right?

Confidantly rolling his shoulders, Fenris sprinted.

"And jus where are you going?" Isabela hollered.

Fenris decided to let Isabela figure that one out on her own.

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Sebastian was standing in a semi-circle by Hawke's self-appointed manservant Bodahn and his vividly unique son Sandal when Fenris came leaping in through the door. Sandal's normally wide expression distended at the sight of him, while Sebastian jumped a little at his sudden appearance. Bodahn, however, just smiled knowingly at him. The elf eyed Sebastian with great interest. Aveline had said that Hawke had thrown herself about him like a child groping for the protection of their parents, but the adventurous girl was nowhere to be seen. Fenris did notice the dark splotches that had the makings of water stains on the exposed black cloth by the left side of his chest.

Awkwardly, Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck, and Fenris broke his gaze, realizing the prince must have discovered that he was scrutinizing him.

"Good evening, messare," Bodahn said with incongruous merriment.

"How is she?" Fenris said to the man from Starkhaven. "I…only just heard…"

Sebastian's visage took on agony and grief. "I've never seen Hawke in such a state. Even so, after such a traumatic event…I'm not surprised at her unconventional behavior. I just wish there was something I could say to make it right. But no words from a mortal man such as I would have any effect."

Fenris took a step closer to Sebastian. The scent of Hawke was fresh on him. Traitorous envy fleetingly turned his blood to ice.

"Aveline said she was…inconsolable."

Sebastian lazily pointed to his damp shirt. "She's been crying for hours. More than crying. Wailing. That's why I'm wet."

"She cried on you?"

Sebastian's face colored, and he chuckled uneasily. "Hawke, ah, tackled me out of the blue when she started to break down. I carried her all the way back here, but she wouldn't let me go…"

Fenris sized him up again; with less disdain this time. "I…see."

Sebastian's whole figure slumped. "I feel so badly for her. I couldn't leave Hawke after seeing what transpired in that foundry. So...I stayed with her until she…passed out, as it were."

Fenris' contracted his eyes to a half-glare. "That was…a very kind deed, Sebastian. Thank you for…consoling Hawke."

Sebastian let his features soften. "It was the least I could do. I'm acquainted with her bane, and that caused a sensation of disquiet in me. Because I knew what it was like to lose everything. There is nothing that can be said or done to completely lance a wound like that. But receiving that which you believe you need can be the most mollifying thing. Hawke helped to placate me when my family died. It's only natural that I should want to do the same."

This set Fenris off kilter. Hawke running to Sebastian…made sense. They were not that different when it came to the misfortunes of their lives. Both had had change forced upon them in the cruelest way possible. Both knew the woe that came with losing loved ones so suddenly. Both just wanted to live their lives in peace and quiet, absent of hatred and war. The more Fenris was able to connect, the more insecure he felt. She was no longer his. There was nothing stopping her from moving on with Sebastian and starting fresh. He could love her much better than Fenris could. He had no fear of moving forward. He could give her anything her heart desired. Sebastian could make her a princess, which was no less than what Hawke truly deserved. He should encourage the notion and be happy for her possibilities. It was the

But why did the whole idea leave him feeling…vacant?

Sebastian cleared his throat. He must have sensed his inner turmoil, if the concerned light in his blue eyes was any indicator. That was something about Sebastian that filled Fenris with disquiet. He was very good at reading people.

"You should see if she's awake," Sebastian's demeanor tempered. "Hawke hasn't been asleep long. And I think she wants to talk to you."

Fenris took a step back. "Why do you think that?"

Sebastian chortled as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Because I could hear her mumbling your name in her sleep."

Crimson painted Fenris' neck, ears and face. He went from hollowness to embarrassment in two seconds flat. With a tiny hint of flattery blended in.

"Yes, well…perhaps you are right. Yes, I should, ah…I should probably check to see if she's awakened. I—um—wouldn't want to disturb her if she still…slumbers, however. Yes."

Sebastian pushed his mouth to the side. "You do not want to disturb her? You look like all you want to do right now is disturb her."

"I—I am concerned for her state of mind," the elf huffed, turning on his heel. "Hawke is probably too fatigued to speak at any rate. I will check and be on my way."

"Very well, Fenris," Sebastian's voice warbled as he concealed his amusement.

"It never gets boring around her, does it, m'boy?" Bodahn said covertly to his son.

It didn't take long for Fenris to bound up the short staircase, but when he reached the doors to Hawke's quarters, his hand hesitated over the handle. Feather light, he could catch the sound of hiccupping cries on the other side of the door. It took Fenris back to a moment from his past; a child he had seen in Minrathous, blubbering because it was frightened of the people combing the streets. Each had a right to dismay.

"Oh, amasiuncula," Fenris pressed his forehead to the door, which was surprisingly cool.

'…What have they done to you? Is this beyond my repair?'

There was no way to know. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Fenris opened the door.

He spotted Hawke on the floor, curled up in a ball in front of her fireplace, sniffling. Her blond hair was matted, and there were smears of blood littered over the armor she had not taken off. While her face was not visible, he imagined it to be swollen and tear-stained, yet beautiful nonetheless. At the sight of her, his heart surged with despondency for his love and resentment for any blood mage that walked Thedas. He had to do something. He just had to.

He would do anything to bring her smile back.

"Nocet mihi…tibi videre ita…" Fenris found himself saying, clenching and unclenching his fists.

His voice reverberated within her, and Hawke shook and spun around to face him. Sure enough, everything about her shrieked wretchedness and defeat. Dark circles made her eyes sag. Red lines streaked the whites of her eyes. Her lips were dry and cracked, and she smelt of death. But the color in her irises seemed to be dull, and the aura of gladness that enveloped her daily was just…not there. Replaced by a black and solemn air. He had never seen her in such a fashion. It perturbed him. It motivated him.

When Hawke perceived him, she slumped, and pulled her head to the floor.

"My mother…is gone."

"I…know."

Just her eyes darted back up.

"I…heard from Aveline. She came to the Hanged Man. Had I—"

But he couldn't finish that sentence. There was no way Fenris could have changed the outcome of this. So he said what he thought was right.

"I don't know what to say…but I am here."

More tears seeped through her eyes, and she covered her mouth briefly. Fenris felt his own heart breaking, begging her to tell him what she needed. If there was anything in his power that could make her better, though he knew there would be nothing that could completely ease her. Just distract her.

"Am…I to blame?" she whimpered. "For not saving her?"

Fenris chose his next words with care. "I…could say no, but…would that help? You are…looking for forgiveness. But…I am not the one the one who can give it to you."

Her eyes became wild then, as though she could hear his voice in every corner of the room, but she could not see him. Moving quickly, Fenris kneeled at her side and took both hands in his, clutching them tightly. Hawke's breathing became ragged, and her chest flew up and down from the short but deep inhales she was taking. Lips quivering, sweat pouring from her brow. Fenris recognized this. She was going into shock. What had he said?

"You're right," she gasped. "Nothing…nothing will…make this…better. She's gone. Gone. And…I'm…alone…"

"No," Fenris said vehemently. "That is something you are not. You will never be alone, Hawke. Not while there is life in me."

At the sound of his words, a drop of harmony rippled through her. Her tongue moistened her dry lips, and she ran a hand down her locks to try and break the kinks. The squall inside her had ceased to rage, and her old self burst through this glum shell like a beautiful butterfly from an old cocoon.

"Fenris." Hawke was tender, but there was something else behind it that made him want to lean in closer.

He did.

"Are you…all right?" Fenris said to her mouth.

"No," she whispered. But she didn't sound sad. She sounded…hungry.

Oh, Maker.

Fenris swallowed a huge lump in his throat, making it groan like a frog.

"I would like to…help you, Hawke." he noticed that their hands were linked. "Tell me what it is you wish…and it is done."

Their eyes met, and sparks soared between them. Fenris suddenly felt too warm all over. Hawke was in a fragile state right now. She was psychologically frail. Vulnerable. Needy. She wanted to be comforted and reassured that, no matter what, there would be someone beside her to love her and take care of her while she took care of everyone else, and Fenris' gut told him that the person of her choice to fill that role would be him. She wanted him, and she wanted him. To very diverse things that were identifiable by any man. But that wasn't the real issue. It was whether or not he would comply.

The first time they had slept together was paradise to him. It was, as still remained, the happiest moment of his life. Yet, the frustration of his memories that had been stripped by Danarius slipping from his grasp had thrown the truth into his head. There was so much about his own self that he didn't even know; there was too much that had yet to be done before Fenris could let himself have a normal life. In the beginning, the task seemed effortless.

But what he did not plan on was a beautiful human girl teaching him what it meant to fall in love.

Wasn't that more important than anything? Wasn't that what the definition of being in love was; putting them before you? If asked whose life mattered more, his own or Hawke's, the answer was transparent. It was her. So did that mean he was in love with her? By definition, yes. But in earnest?

Even though he dreaded the past becoming unreachable, would he love her tonight if she asked? If it would help her grieve? If it could give her that one moment of happiness he was looking for not so long ago?

Fenris didn't have to think twice about it.

Treading with caution, Fenris dropped one of her hands to gently stroke her flush, sticky cheek. Their eyes never wavered, his full of flowers and cool breezes, hers full of broken glass and rain.

"Tell me…" he half-growled. "Tell me how I can end your pain."

Hawke sniveled, using her free hand to wipe her face. "I must look awful."

"You look grief-stricken. That is not awful."

Hawke's mouth twisted up. "I've seen myself, you know. I look like I lost a wrestling match with a Qunari."

Hawke's sarcasm shone forth. He must have done something right.

Fenris copied her smirk. "Your first mistake was thinking that wrestling with a Qunari was a good idea. I can put my fist through a man's chest, and I wouldn't even take the venture."

"Well, I had to wrestle something. Maker knows how dull my life is."

Fenris just couldn't resist. He took hold of her chin.

"Wrestle me, then."

Hawke tensed, eyes burrowing into his, combing them for any type of jest. She must have believed the innuendo was a trick of her ear; she was hearing something that wasn't really there. But it was there. Fenris wanted her to see that.

"Are you…flirting with me?" she said it as if it had never happened before.

"What if I'm not?" he countered.

"Then I would say, 'challenge accepted'."

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "And if I am?"

Hawke opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. He could see the confusion and anticipation stumbling within her. He knew she wanted to believe in his words, but she also didn't want to waltz right into a trap. Fenris couldn't blame her or feel offended. The last time they had acted so intimate, it had led in deflection and rejection, mostly on her part. But he had to hope that she could sense his genuineness and unabashed adoration, though none of it was completely forthright.

Her grew to the size of dinner plates, then shrunk back. This was spontaneity attempting to take the reins from her. Hawke was willing to take the plunge. But would she? Would he have to make the first move? He did not so long ago, when he acknowledged that she clouded his every waking thought. The ball was in her court. What would her choice be?

Whilst his mind racked questions, she jumped towards him, their lips ramming together. One ramshackle kiss evolved into a clumsy fray of clothes and skin; hers, then his.

Heartbeat hammering in their ears, they took each other away from the world that had broken them. And, just like last time, he had never felt so wonderful in all his long years.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Hawke stretched, a sharp sting snaking down her body. Her muscles were sore and screaming from yesterday's intensive usage; her legs in particular were quite aggrieved. But there was serenity that had blossomed somewhere inside of her, albeit the horrible images of her mother that didn't seem to disappear when she tried to shove them out. The foundry. That blood mage's eerie voice. Her mother's foul husk of a form. And weeping. Oh, the weeping. Each part pierced, but with much less potency.

Wiggling her toes, Hawke had an urge to hold something that she didn't see coming; it was similar to the one she felt mere hours ago when she couldn't even look on the sunken, patchwork Leandra that was supposed to be her mother. The sensation wasn't atypical; even as a child, she could remember countless times where, at her worst, she would run into the arms of her parents in search of a sanctuary. Despite the fact she was an adult, her mother had embraced her when her father and when Carver passed away. Even when Bethany left, Leandra had been there.

But now, there was no one. No one to murmur encouragements. She would have to hold herself. Reassure herself. It was time to be a big girl.

Nevertheless, it didn't mean she was barred from crying.

Tentatively, Hawke rolled over onto her side, curled into a shoddy ball, and reached over for one of her feather pillows that she could bury her face into.

Instead, she touched something warm.

And hard.

And it felt more like skin than fabric.

'…What the…'

The lids of her eyes flew back from the strange texture, and Hawke's tongue lolled out from her mouth.

Fenris was there. In her bed. One arm was by his side while the other closest to her was draped over his face. The mop of white hair on his head was frazzled, and there was a light snoring coming from his mouth and nose. The morning light cast on his markings made them twinkle, and helped to accentuate the chiseled muscles on his chest and abdomen. Realizing what she was seeing, Hawke lifted his section of the comforter off of him and instantly noticed he was nude. They both were. Throwing back down, Hawke cupped a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping, utilizing all of her willpower to keep her from staring at his handsome body. He was scrumptious morsel to behold.

The night's events were sluggishly tiptoeing back to her. Fenris had come to her, saw her hysterical, comforted her, she had kissed him, and then…

Fenris grunted groggily in his sleep.

Hawke turned to look at him once again, careful as to not to make a sound. Though she was wide awake, he was submerged in slumber. His arm had scooted up a bit, revealing his entire face, which seemed strikingly pacific, going against his customary attitude of raging silently. This new look was…sexy, to say the least.

Unable to resist temptation, Hawke inclined her face to his, breathing in once to inhale his natural scent, which, to her, was an aphrodisiac in its own right. It was a curious blend of spices and a dash of morning forest; calming her senses, yet stimulating her drive to be as close to him as possible.

When only a few centimeters separated them, a garish voice in the back of her head demanded her to kiss him. Just once, to make sure that he was real and this was not some sort of hoax created by a demon. That was the only way it could all make sense. Fenris had left her; he had told her that they wouldn't be doing anything this intimate anymore. There was no way he could be here unless he had gone back on his word. Last night, however; that was no illusion. Her former lover had shown up here after the tragic passing of her mother. That had to mean that this wasn't a hallucination either. Which meant she did kiss him.

And they did make love. Again.

Hawke puckered her lips.

But, before she could plant them, a boisterous banging shook her bedroom door.

"Rise and shine, dearest Hawke!" Isabela crooned. "Guess who brought you breakfast!"

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Merrill squeaked. "Hawke could be sleeping. Wouldn't it be rude to wake her up? She might be having such a wonderful dream..."

"Who gives two shits?" Varric grumbled; irritated for being up early. "Hawke! Get your lazy ass outta bed! Don't make me come in there!"

"Damn," Fenris swore behind her.

Hawke pulled her blanket around her, feeling exposed. She flung herself around to grab him, but he was already out of bed and half dressed. Dissatisfaction gnawed at her heart.

"Don't go!" she found herself hissing.

Fenris gaped at her, stunned by her words, though his hands kept tying his belt to his hips.

"Dimitte mei, carissimi," He whispered as loudly as he could, tightening the buckles on his armor with lighting speed. Once he was fully clothed, he crawled back onto her bed and kissed her hard on the mouth. "Sum relinquenda tibi. Gratias quia priore noctis. Faciens amoris ad tibi sit mirabilis…"

"I don't speak Tevinter, Fenris!" Hawke grabbed his fake. "Human here! Common, okay? Common!"

"Hawke, are you dead?" Isabela asked innocently.

"I'm seriously about to bust down the door here!" Varric added.

"Be right with you!" she called out, hoping she didn't sound as panicky as she felt.

Hurriedly, Fenris retraced his sentence, pecking his lips on her neck, chin and ears. "Forgive me, dear. I must leave you."

"Don't go…" Hawke groaned, secretly hoping his mouth would journey lower.

"I must. Thank you for last night…"

His snowy hair itched her nose as he brought his head up, smashing their foreheads together. Though breath was malodorous during the mornings, Fenris was not, which, for some reason, didn't surprise her in the least. There were some things about him that were too perfect to be true. She didn't know whether it was an elf thing or just a Fenris thing. Hawke cared not, regardless.

In a provocative tone, Fenris muttered "Making love to you is wonderful…"

"Then stay," Hawke balled her fists. "I'll tell them to leave. It can be just you and me. We'll make love…I'll be yours…all day."

"No more, Hawke," Fenris snapped, smiling. "You tempt me."

Hawke allowed her blanket to slip from her frame. "Will it get you to stay?"

Fenris eyes darted between her bare chest and face. "If I could, I would. I would make you mine. You would know nothing but my wild love for you. I would make it so that you would want no man other than me. That no man could ever please you like I could."

"Do it," Hawke found herself beseeching. "Ruin me. Ravish me."

Regret scrunched up the elf's face. "I cannot."

"Hawke!" Anders' voice rang out. "Are you all right? Do you need something? I'm here for you, you know that…"

"I'm find, Anders, really!" Hawke's cheer sounded a little too cheery. "I'll be out in a moment! I'm just…a little disheveled from last night."

"Take your time, Hawke," was Anders' last comment.

Fenris glowered. "My desire to reconsider has grown immensely."

"Enough to get you to stay?" Hawke inquired, anticipative.

"I am sorry, dearest," Fenris kissed Hawke's cheek. "But I cannot stay."

"Why?" she whined as her lover made his way over to her window. "Why does it matter to you? Do you not want them to know?"

Fenris' face was deadpanned. "Yes."

Hawke fumed. "Why? Are you that ashamed of me?"

"Of course not!" Fenris refuted. "Do you want to make your sexual encounters so obvious to everyone?"

"Well…no…" Hawke chewed her cheek. "Now that you mention it, it would be a little awkward for everyone."

Fenris crossed his arms over his chest. "To be honest, I do not want Isabela and Varric gossiping about us like rich girls at the Hanged Man over a pint."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "I was taking Merrill and Anders into account as well."

Snorting, Fenris reveled. "Had it just been him, I would have invited him in. Let him stew in a boiling cauldron of envy. Fitting for an abomination."

"You're horrible, Fenris."

"Yet there you sit, naked in bed, begging me to have my way with you," Fenris winked. "I must not be that bad, then. Or have you changed your mind about throwing yourself at Sebastian?"

"Hey," Hawke pointed at him. "I didn't even know that was Sebastian. I was scared! Also, I didn't say anything about you as a person. I just said I wanted sex."

A light shone in Fenris eyes. "And, apparently, you've been boasting to Isabela that you think I'm rather good at it."

Hawke's complexion became swamped by redness.

"It's…because I'm enamored with you. You've already ruined me. I'm just waiting on the ravishing part."

Fenris' smile couldn't have been bigger. "I am yours, dearest. But now, I must go."

"Wait!" Hawke barked, stopping him before he could jump out the window. "I…have something I want to ask you."

Fenris did not move an inch.

"Why….why did you do it? Come over here and comfort me. Sleep with me. You told me you didn't want to…be with me. So…why?"

A perplexing stare affixed itself to Fenris eyes, and she saw that he was unconsciously shifting from left to right, as though he were too nervous to actually come out and give an honest answer. A few minutes of that ticked by, then he finally scratched his head and looked back up at her, love exuding out of him like a broken dam.

"I…will never let you go, Hawke. I am compelled to be with you. Rain or shine. I cannot fight this…whatever it is that is pulling me towards you. When I heard that…that you had been suffering…I knew I had to do something. Lift your spirits, if I could. I slept with you because I am smitten with you, and because I knew I could take you from that horrid place. This must all sound…ridiculous…"

Tears gathered in her eyes. She had never loved him so much as she did right then. "No. It doesn't sound ridiculous…"

Fenris slung one leg out of her windowpane, elated. "I adore you. I will return shortly. Promise me, Hawke. Promise me you will remember that you are not alone. I...will always be here."

Her mother, her father, Carver and Bethany flashed in her mind. They were gone. She would, most likely, never see any of them again. But Fenris was right. She was not alone. Not as long as one person who loved her still remained by her side. How blind could she have been? Wallowing in such pity that it had almost drowned her? That was not her. She was a Hawke, and Hawkes were courageous and persistent. She had the strength to continue to live, even though life might have seemed like the Void itself.

Blowing him a kiss, she watched Fenris as he glowed with a blue brillance, summoning the speed and strength to help him climb down the side of her mansion to the ground. Waving to her once, he sped off in the direction of his own home, her heart beating on time with his footsteps.

And if she ever ran out, she could always borrow some from the elf that lived next door.