"Wait, where are you going?"

Hawke stopped outside the door, "To Hightown."

Bethany crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at her sister, "And what are you doing in Hightown?"

"Busking for coin," Hawke said, turning down the steps. When Bethany didn't follow, she swung back around. Her sister-mage was still at the top of the stairs. "To ... visit Fenris."

"And when did you plan on telling me that?" Bethany threw her hands up. "I think that man would gladly see me in the gutter. I'm not going."

"I won't let him hurt you," Hawke smirked. "Or do you think I cannot handle the little wolf?"

Bethany came halfway down the stairs, arms still crossed, "I know how much you enjoy getting under everyone's skin, Marian, but I - I'm just going to go to the market. Aveline is off shift soon."

Looking up from the landing, Hawke rolled her eyes and sighed a smile, "Very well, dear sister. I understand, the lyrium is simply too much for you."

"What?"

Hawke stepped up to Bethany, patting her hand, "I would hate for you to lick him or something. It must be unbearable to resist."

Making a frustrated sound, Bethany pushed her away and said, "Just go! And I'll be here by supper so we may go to the house. We will still go?"

"Yes," Hawke said, grinning and stumbling unnecessarily. "Be ready."

Following the paths she knew well, Hawke walked through the back streets up to Hightown, narrowly avoiding a checkpoint. Past the ascent to the Viscount's keep, she kept her head down and made it to the quiet corner of the residential district. Thought she had been to visit Aveline with the city guard a few times, it was difficult to escape the sensation of too many eyes following her. Hawke knew she didn't belong in Hightown. The few times she had visited Fenris night had already fallen.

Hawke leant against the frame and knocked on the wide door of the mansion, looking up the dirty walls. Knocking again, she waited a few minutes more, before testing the knob. Glancing into the street, she covertly picked the lock and slipped in.

"Hello?" Hawke called out as she closed the door. No lamps were lit, and the curtains were drawn, leaving the mansion dark. There were still bloodstains on the rug, dark and unrecognizable. At least the smell had gone. She could hear movement deeper in the house.

Walking through the main hall, Hawke turned down a corridor, sighing before calling out, "Fenris?" She meandered into the library, plucking a book off the desk there. Flipping through to find her place, she turned and almost sat down.

The fireplace was filled with tomes. That was new. And half of them weren't catching.

"Hawke," Fenris stood in the doorway, and he followed her gaze. "They were his. I can... feel things in them."

"Here I was going to offer coin for firewood," Hawke smiled briefly, smoothing her thumb over the cover of the book in hand. "How have you been keeping? Love what you've done with the place."

Fenris grunted, advancing closer on the balls of his feet, "There is little use settling in - let alone not having any means to do it."

"There is work to be had," she replied, smirking. "If I can earn the gold I need, I don't see why someone with your abilities could not."

"I will not sell myself," he coldly replied, snagging another book from a specific pile. He tossed it into the flames. "They don't all burn. He protected them."

"Could always piss on them afterward? Might garner you the same satisfaction in the end."

Fenris almost laughed, and his shoulders relaxed a bit as he turned back to her, "Something tells me you didn't merely come here to read."

"Oh I don't know, the atmosphere is quite unlike the rest of Hightown," Hawke wistfully said, tapping the book to her lips before putting it down. "Did you need help with anything?"

"I don't need you to watch over me. I've been a fugitive for years. This is not the first time he's made me wait," Fenris replied, sitting on the desk and crossing his arms. There was the sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Well the offer is there."

"Thank you," he begrudgingly replied. "Varric has been of considerable assistance."

"As he is to most," Hawke grinned.

"So why did you come here?"

Hawke exhaled, tapping her fingers on top of the book, "I thought you might wish to help me with something."

"Oh?" Fenris said, moving again. "And why is that."

"Slavers in a nearby house," Hawke casually said, arching her brow. "Interested?"

Hawke's head popped up from the bed, and she pushed her hair from her eyes. The light was dim, but the smell gave it away - the Hanged Man. Maker's breath, she was at the Hanged Man. There was no telling the time. As an afterthought to her mother's worry, she looked down, putting a hand over her breasts - she was down to her undershirt and smalls.

"Fuck," she sucked in a breath, closing her eyes as the dizziness washed over her. Her head was pounding.

"Have some nice beauty rest, messere?"

Varric. She was half-naked in Varric's suite at the Hanged Man. Hawke groaned as her stomach churned, and all thoughts of her predicament fled as she poured out of the bed. She grabbed a pot by the side of the bed as she retched.

"Nice view," Varric muttered from the end of the bed.

Hawke sucked in some air, struggling to swallow as she turned her cheek and said, "Are you staring at my ass?"

"Admittedly, it's hard not to," Varric said with a sigh. "But that's not the chamber pot."

"Ohh Maker," Hawke groaned, slumping sideways on the floor as the world spun. "What did I do?"

There was the clink of a mug on the small table beside Hawke, and a bright flare as Varric lit a lamp. He chuckled, "I think it'd be more accurate to list what you didn't do. Drink that. Something Blondie left for you. And don't worry, I sent word to your mother that you're alive."

"Fuck," she groaned again, forcing herself up to grab the mug. Clutching it to her lips, Hawke downed the bitter liquid within before dropping it and rolling to sit against the wall. Varric was on the bed, looking quite smug. "You look rather pleased."

"Rarely a dull moment with you as a friend, Hawke," he chuckled.

"Just a dull throb in my head," Hawke murmured, cringing and looking down. Tugging the front of her undershirt open, she said, "Andraste's fucking tits."

"Not quite," Varric replied, "Though it was certainly entertaining! I thought it would have taken more convincing on Isabela's part."

"You let her pierce my bloody tit?"

"Wasn't much blood," Varric waved a hand, offering another glass. "You took it like a man - well, something tells me most humans would squeal. Even Blondie twitched more than you."

"I'm so very classy," Hawke drank the water, gingerly cupping her breast. Her voice was gravelly, "What did he get pierced?"

Varric chuckled and said, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Em, yes? I did ask," Hawke rolled her eyes open at him. She waggled her brow, "What about you? It cannot be more titillating than mine.'

"I'm content enough with the holes in my body," Varric smirked.

Head hanging heavy as some of the lethargy cleared with the tonic, Hawke murmured, "I could certainly use with a few of mine getting plugged."

"A few?" Varric laughed, shaking his head. "Hawke, you're dog."

"Ferelden through and through," she sighed, eyes half-lidded as she looked back at him. "Or is there another reason I'm in your bed?"

"It would be unfair of me to divulge such information," Varric replied, standing as he did. "Besmirch Bianca's chaste ears."

"Bastard dwarf," Hawke said, hauling herself back up onto his bed. "I am confiscating this location for the remainder of the day."

"Not much left of it," he replied with a chuckle. "But make yourself at home." When he glanced back, Hawke had passed out again, face first on his pillow.