Things are never as easy as they seem... (But don't worry, no major disaster is afoot.)

Enjoy!

Give me an Answer 6

"The full moon now descended to the barren low hills surrounding the stern and unyielding Weisshaupt Fortress and turned into a large orange ball."

Varric stared at the words he had just scribbled down on a blank sheet of paper. It was not his first attempt. After having discarded several other approaches, or perhaps even better attacks, at the (unexpected) last chapters of his Champion saga, including ridiculous appearances of wolves and hawks doing all sorts of implausible stuff, he had returned to basic and was now trying to paint some kind of ambiance, to set the scene so to say. Pensively he tapped with his index finger against his clean shaven chin. 'Anderfells, Anderfells ... does the bloody place even have hills,' he mused aloud. 'Or should I write "barren wastelands" just to be on the safe side?' He wrinkled his brow. 'No, that sounds like shit: the moon descended to the barren wastelands – like she's about to shatter to pieces on the er, barren floor of – whatever. No good. But wait... what about onto the barren wastelands ..? No. Down to ..? Gracefully sank towards the barren horizon ..? Ugh! Fuck it!' With a loud frustrated grunt he crumpled up the paper and threw the ball into a corner of his room where it met with quite a lot of examples of the dwarf's former pitiable failures. He thumped the table in a flare of impotent fury.

The same moment the Inquisitor, who incidentally happened to pass Varric's room, stuck her head around the door, alarmed by the angry outburst. 'Things not going well in the Swords and Shields-department?' she informed sweetly.

Varric practically growled his answer. 'Don't get me started about that lousy serial. This,' he waved angrily at the stack of virginally white paper lying before him, 'is meant to become the extended story of the Champion's, tale and it is difficult enough as it is without reminders to my worst work ever, whatever the Seeker may think of it.' He looked up at her. 'Do you perchance know if there are hills in the Anderfells?'

Evelyn cocked her brow, looking at the distressed expression on the dwarf's face and noticing the thrown away balls of paper. 'I think you're in dire need of a drink,' she concluded, amicably. 'Before you combust into flames or eat your quill. Or wreck all of your stationary. Come on, let's head to the inn. You seem to be having a hard time.' She concluded, 'A pity really. To be honest, I was secretly hoping you would recite again one of your wonderful tales about the Champion this night. As a matter of fact I was looking forward to it.'

'Not a chance,' Varric grumbled determinedly while he pushed his chair back and stood up. 'I first have to get it perfect. But you're right, a drink isn't a bad idea; maybe it'll pour some inspiration into my empty head. My barren head,' he added with a sarcastic sneer. 'And you're welcome to share one with me. Perhaps you can be some kind of inspiration.'

Still grinning Evelyn shook her head while they descended the long stone flight of stairs leading from the large hall down to the courtyard. 'And you seemed so happy yesterday.'

'Don't get me wrong, I still am. Happy I mean. Exalted even. But it turns out it's much harder to express one's happiness than one's misery. The more wretchedness, the easier to describe the feelings. So many colourful words to choose from.'

'You did very well last night,' the Inquisitor countered. 'In case you didn't notice: a whole crowd was hanging onto your very lips and I haven't heard a single complaint about a lack of colourful words.'

'Yesterday, my lady Inquisitor, I was on a roll, what with Rivaini's letter and what it told and all,' Varric said reproachfully. 'I hadn't even had time to realize the challenge but now I do. So, just like our lovely Seeker, you just will have to bide your time.' Only the mention of the pirate's name suddenly stirred up an immense longing for a simple play of Wicked Grace. 'So I suggest a relaxing and innocent round of cards to spend this evening.'

Evelyn burst into a fit of girlish giggles which ended with a bout of coughs. She had to hold on to parapet to sustain her equilibrium. 'When you succeed in talking Cullen into it, I'm all for it.' And she started laughing again. Uncontrollably.

'Leave it all to me, my lady,' Varric said with a wicked grin.

As a matter of fact the full moon was turning into a ball of warm dark orange and descending to – whatever she was descending to. It was impossible to solve that particular issue because the view through the window from the bed in Hawke's suite was quite limited, but neither Marian nor Fenris were paying it any attention anyway, having only eyes for each other. Thus it stayed a philosophical question (or a geographical one if you will), open to all kinds of suggestions and discussions.

They were sharing a glass of wine in the midst of crumpled sheets and blankets. Fenris had pulled Marian in his arms to keep her as close as possible, and with a contented sigh she leant into his frame, her slender legs crossing his thighs. Her fingers slowly trailed up and down his chiselled chest and abdomen, conscious of every perfect taut muscle she came across. In response he tenderly stroked her back.

'I hope you understand that from now on I won't leave you out of my sight for just one moment,' he murmured in her hair, in his opinion an adorable tangled mess after all their lovemaking. With overjoyed pleasure he took in her scent.

'Afraid I will lose my senses yet again in some bout of panic and cowardly run off like a half-baked biscuit?' She planted a soft kiss on his skin and he suppressed a shiver. 'I can't even blame you,' she admitted remorsefully.

Stifling a snigger Fenris fastened the hold of his arm around her shoulder. 'Boldly put but not far from the truth. I however would rather have said I was scared you would once more assume the self-proclaimed sinister title of the Angel of Death.'

Hawke cringed, feeling his hidden hurt. 'Hearing it from your mouth, putting it this way, it sounds not only preposterous but also pathetically dramatic,' she groaned. 'Something even Varric would be ashamed of to come up with. Gods, what was I thinking.'

'That indeed is the question,' Fenris smiled, gently tugging at a lock of her hair. 'And were you even thinking at all I wonder.' He caught the hand that intended to slap him and planted a kiss on Marian's shoulder. He didn't want to broach the subject but the question kept lingering in his head and so, after a short silence, he asked tentatively, 'You don't think Corypheus had some kind of influence on you back then, after the battle in Kirkwall? Or even before? I mean, after all the disturbing business in the Vimmark Mountains?'

'No.' Marian sucked her lip. Her heart suddenly clenched painfully, caused only by the remembrance of Fenris's beaten body; she had still difficulties with that dreadful image. 'It was ... seeing you lying like that, so badly wounded ... I simply couldn't believe you would survive your injury. And you were in that horrible state because you tried to save me. Because you did save me. I lived and you were just a heartbeat away from death. At that moment something snapped inside me. It even went beyond panic. I remembered clearly the others I loved so much dying before my eyes without me being able to do anything about it. And I blamed myself. Not only for their deaths but for everything that had gone wrong. I wallowed in guilt and shame. And it happened in an instant. Something shifted inside me and all went dark and dull. Corypheus had nothing to do with it. Not at that time.'

Not at that time.

Fenris contemplated her words. 'I suppose that that darkspawn or old magister, or whatever the monster represents, got a strong grip on you in the Fade.' He heard her utter a shuddering sigh and immediately regretted his remark. They had gone through this already after all, there was no need to repeat that painful episode. But he couldn't deny that her decision to choose death voluntarily without a second thought, still shook the very centre of his existence. Nevertheless, it should be a closed book. She had tried to explain, he didn't comprehend but then again, he hadn't been with her in the Fade. How the hell was he ever supposed to remotely feel what she had experienced? He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of her head. 'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up,' he added contritely. He was overly happy she had changed back from the desperate depressed woman he had found in this very chamber into the merry, steadfast and passionate one he knew. The last thing he wished, was to make her feel miserable again by going on about Corypheus and all the bastard had caused.

Marian turned in his arms to look at him and smiled heartening. 'There's no need to apologise my love. If it had been the other way around, I too would have wanted a proper and satisfying answer. I figure it's as difficult to grasp as to clarify. Frankly, by now I can hardly explain it to myself. It's just ... ' She closed her eyes to concentrate. It indeed was hard and not only because she lacked the words to describe what she had felt. The callous coldness of the Fade seemed to surround her once more. She tried to shut it out, Fenris had a right to a sane explanation. Without the blubbering, without the stumbling words, without the hysterics and definitely without the nervous breakdowns. She took a deep breath. 'He played on my deepest fears and laid bare all of my failures. And when I heard him say you would die, I found no reason to live on anymore. Down there, or up there or wherever it was we wandered around at that awful time in that awful place, there was no opportunity to think clearly. I was wrapped up in despair and pathologic numbness and nothing mattered anymore. Everything became senseless. I didn't even see it as a sacrifice to stay behind so the others could escape; it seemed more like, like some kind of last chance to save somebody for a change instead of let them perish. Almost as some kind of liberation.'

'I told you nothing was ever your fault –' Fenris started intensely before she silenced him with a kiss.

'Yes, love, I heard all of your arguments and not only that: I even listened to them. Don't worry, by now I believe them. I told you before you hauled me out off that dark pit in a way only you could. You are my saviour.' She kissed him again, smiling upon his lips. 'So what about another glass of that heavenly Antivan Summer Passion? There must be enough left in the bottle for just one more. And perhaps we can talk about more jolly subjects, about the future for example. About what we will do next. After getting married of course.'

Fenris reached for the bottle and filled the glass with the last of the wine, thinking about a coherent response. He hadn't thought about something as vague as a "next". Finding her, confronting her and getting an answer to his most pressing question was as far as he had planned ahead. He had no inkling whatsoever in what this mysterious next would consist off. Except of his strong will of asking her, well, commanding her, to marry him. Which she had taken surprisingly easy which still startled him. 'What do you have in mind?' he asked weakly.

Hawke took a small sip, knowing beforehand he wouldn't appreciate her answer. Better to be straightforward, no use to beat about the bush. She passed the glass on to him. 'I want to go back to Skyhold, to join the Inquisition in full,' she stated plainly. 'To participate in the fight against Corypheus.' She felt his body go rigid but only for a moment. She was certain, though, he was tapping into all the reserves still available to stay calm. Carefully he put the glass back on the side table.

After a long silence Fenris finally reacted. 'Don't you think you have done enough?'

She bit back an impulsive answer although all kinds of agitated thoughts rose up like water in a fountain. Enough? It will never be enough! You haven't felt that existence's evil weighting down on you, haven't heard its poisonous voice. You haven't seen the torn sky, sensed its malevolence; just go to Haven and look at it. Just feel his poison! Then you will know! But she managed to swallow down those heated words; instinctively she knew they were the wrong ones. She had never been in Haven in person, nor in the devastated Temple of Ashes. But she had heard all about it, and, above all, she had been attacked by the venomous corruption. And that had been more than enough to bring her down. 'I just think Corypheus is my responsibility,' she sighed instead. 'My father renewed the seals of his prison, and with good reasons as we know now, and then I came along and freed him. I'm the one who let him loose on this world, so I think it's only proper I should also be the one to put that huge mistake right again.'

Again Fenris stayed silent for quite a time. 'Fair enough,' he finally gave in. 'I can understand what drives you.' He gave her a lopsided smile. 'Besides that I'm pretty sure I cannot talk it out off your head; if your mind is set on something you will have it your way. But I told you before I won't let you get out of my sight. So, whether you like it or not, if you want to fight him we will fight him together.'

She reciprocated his brittle smile with one that was if possible even more fragile. 'I wouldn't have expected less and by now I wouldn't have it any other way.' She exhaled with relief he took it this easy. A little premature, as she soon would find out.

Fenris leant back against the headboard of the bed, taking her with him in his arms. 'Just know I don't agree,' he said. He silenced her upcoming protest with a single finger put lightly upon her lips. 'You have done enough. Consider all the tribulations you have gone through. All the things you have done over the past years to help people, to save them. The efforts you put into making other persons lives better. All the problems you solved.'

'Not all the problems,' she flatly murmured. He ignored her remark, or at least pretended he hadn't heard.

'You even answered Meredith's call upon you, to hunt down gone rogue mages. And when we're at the subject, you helped mages. You even helped – him. Be it you didn't know what he was scheming.'

Marian shivered. 'Perhaps not my biggest mistake in hind sight but that one comes close,' she whispered. She closed her eyes. 'It set the world on fire. I should have known better. It's hard to bear those feelings of guilt.'

With sudden incensed anger Fenris flew up and violently grasped her shoulders. He hadn't even noticed he was at the end of his tether but after hearing her utter those last words, he was at once close to exploding. Those words were the proverbial cinder hitting the barrel of gaatlok. All of his pent-up anxiety, numbed by their wondrous lovemaking but stirred up once again already by her decision to go to Skyhold, stood now trampling on the threshold of his mind, ready to take over and make serious amok. He fervently tried to hold them back. He couldn't prevent his markings flashing up for a dangerous moment before he managed to douse them.

'Stop feeling responsible!' he all but shouted; he wanted to shake Marian ferociously but stuck with grasping her shoulders with even more force. 'For the Maker's sake stop it! It will be your downfall, and mine, if you keep this up!' Not a moment later he realized what he was doing. With force he smothered his desperate rage; it wouldn't let her see the truth. It would only make things worse. If he weren't careful, he would push her back into the darkness he had just pulled her from. He tried to calm down; taking in her shocked expression helped somewhat. 'I said that before,' he went on more gently. 'But I mean it. I mean it wholeheartedly. If anyone is entitled to retire and spend the rest of their life in peace and quiet, it is you.' He screwed his eyes shut and deflated some more. 'If you want to join the Inquisition to put Corypheus down, I will follow you. Just let your motives be straight and clear. Do it because he is the biggest danger the world has ever encountered and has to be killed just for that; don't do it because you feel guilty.' He drew her back into his arms and engulfed her with his love and dedication but not before he opened his eyes again and shot her a pleading look. 'For Andraste's sake, don't feel guilty,' he repeated softly. He didn't know what else to do or to say to let her see.

Of course I feel guilty! Marian wanted to throw into his face but didn't say out loud. She had seen his pained expression. It didn't aid much to lessen her feelings of guilt but slowly it got through to her what he meant. The cause of the fight was righteous, her own reason wasn't; she had made it personal. That wasn't bad in itself, but, besides her own person, her father also had been dragged into this unsavoury affair. And so she not only had made it her personal affair, but had turned it into some kind of personal Exalted March. Out of some misplaced family pride and – yes – guilt. She suddenly wondered what her father's opinion would have been and flinched. He would have forgiven her her mistake to free Corypheus but not her feverish and obsessed twisted way to put things right.

Like some kind of revelation it struck her. Her father would have reacted in the same way Fenris had done. They probably both were right but it was difficult to let go of her stark intention to repair her mistakes. Right now, leaning into her lover's warm embrace, she could hear her father's voice in her memory, covering the far distance between the moment he shared his wisdom with her and this very moment of her existence.

"Some people say fate is inexorable but I don't believe that. Neither do I believe you can make your own destiny. So many little details are involved, so many small occurrences can put you on a different path, so many encounters can change you. We all start from one point and immediately after, many paths lay before us to choose from. Each choice will lead to a different destination. You may regret one choice because it led to an outcome you never desired, but keep in mind that another choice could have been much worse and left you in tears. We are all too willing to overlook the happiness we are dealt with, forgetting that also was due to a path we took. Instead we beat ourselves up for the pain we never wanted and curse ourselves for taking, in our eyes, the wrong decision. Always keep in mind it's useless to look back and feel sorry for the decisions you took; instead look ahead and avoid guilt. Guilt is a slow poison; inevitable it will take you in its bitter talons and kill you."

She stifled a cry and buried her face into Fenris's chest. He put his arms around her without a word and she was grateful for it.

The Inquisition could count on many dedicated and competent people; she had met the Inquisitor and she seemed to be dedicated and competent enough to snuff out Corypheus on her own. She didn't need her. Oh yes, she was sure she would welcome her but, indeed, she didn't need hers nor Fenris's addition to the fight.

And still ...

Marian felt exhausted. So many thoughts and memories to cope with. So many paths she had taken. So many decisions to defend. Only one stood out like a brilliant star. She could hardly wait to pledge to her wonderful elf she would forever be his. Of course she had done that already but she wanted to make it official. That would be at least one branching in the many paths that she was certain of she would never regret. In the maze the trails of her life had turned into, he was her only true guide.

She felt the warmth of his hands upon the skin of her back, his fingertips radiating his love for her. It almost brought her to tears and definitively gave her a sense of belonging. She got overwhelmed with sheer happiness. He had come for her. Only that counted.

So why was she still hesitating about what she really wanted?

The most relevant question was: what exactly did she want? Yes, she wanted to fight the demon and put him down. Yes, she wanted to join the Inquisition. To back them, to revenge Stroud's death, to put things right. To wipe out her biggest mistake. To quench those ever existing near overwhelming feelings of guilt, although they were not only stupid but even dangerous, as her father and her lover had made clear. But on the other hand, she also longed for a little cottage to live in with the love of her life, to have his children, to raise them together, to finally experience the peace and quiet she had heard so much about, and apparently was held in high esteem, but never knew anything of. The peace and quiet people were willing to fight for, to conquer or sustain. Were willing to die for. It must be very important. She wouldn't know but perhaps it was a worthy cause. She had to admit she was eager to finally, after a decade of battle, find out its appeal. 'I promise I will think about it,' she finally said. 'About all of your words.'

Fenris answered with a soft snort. 'I believe you. And I will take that promise very serious, don't doubt that.' After a short pause he added, 'I dare to bet Varric feels even more guilty than you do. Even worse: I'm fairly certain you have been the one trying to talk that feeling out of his system, instead of putting the encouraging wise words into practice yourself.'

Marian crumbled. As always his insight was her undoing. She couldn't ignore, let alone deny his remark. Especially added to the ones she remembered her father told her, such a long time ago. 'He does,' she admitted in a small voice. 'He says he has introduced red lyrium to Thedas and answered to Corypheus's plea by dragging us to that remote fortress. He says he is the one responsible for all the mess. He ignores every responsibility I carry.'

'I already figured he is as big an idiot as you are, when it comes down to guilt and all that kind of nonsense,' Fenris quietly laughed. At this time he felt too exhausted to keep up a fight, or even carry on a proper discussion, and he couldn't ignore or avoid the sleep that started to wrap him into velvet arms. 'Just know he, just as you, is completely wrong,' he mumbled. 'But don't you think you'll get the easy way out. We'll speak about this again in the morning.' And after that he finally drifted off.

Hawke, on the other hand, lay awake for hours, resting her head on Fenris's chest, her arm draped around him, listening to his steady heartbeat and soft breathing. And all the time her thoughts kept running. He brought her the peace and quiet she so much longed for and at the same moment she wasn't sure about what she exactly wanted. The cottage or the Keep? The peace or the fight?

Finally she too surrendered to the goddess of blissful sleep, reasoning the problem could wait till morning.

Next chapter: Isabela makes a return. In her usual boisterous way.

And as always, thank you so much for reading!