Hawke woke the next morning to the bright afternoon light streaming in through her window and a splitting headache.
"That's the last time I drink with Varric," she moaned, sitting up slowly. "Or ever. Yeah, probably the last time I drink ever." Hawke sat on the edge of her bed with her sheets wrapped around her aching body, and took inventory of herself. She was hung over, that was obvious. She was alone in her huge bed, also obvious. Her hair was a mess, tangled and sweaty from her constant tossing and turning. Her eyes were puffy and red, whether from crying or drinking she didn't know. Probably both, she conceded.
"Hawke, it's late. Are you awake?" her mom asked, knocking softly on her bedroom door. Her mother walked in, her greying hair pulled back in a tight bun, and smiled an understanding but questioning smile. "You don't have to tell me, but you can."
"I know, mom," she said, taking her mother's hand and leaning her cheek against it. When she was a child, she would hold her mom's hand every night until she fell asleep. Her dad was often busy with Bethany, so she and her mom were close.
Their relationship had been rocky since they left Lothering, and they lost Carver. Hawke knew her mom blamed her. She blamed herself, too. But this, the familiar smell of her mother's perfume seemed right. Hawke put aside their past differences behind for the moment to just breathe in her mother's smell. She leaned her head against Leandra's shoulder and closed her eyes.
"Is it a man? A woman? Tell me, darling, what's happened?" She wiped her nose on the back of her hand before leaning her head back to look up at her mom.
"It's nothing. If it was something, but he ended it right after he started it. I'll be fine, though."
"Alright, I won't pester you for details. But, whoever it was, is a foolish man," Leandra said, taking her daughter's chin in her hands and touching their foreheads together.
"Thanks, mother. Varric said the same thing, you know," Hawke smiled and blinked her tears away. Leandra got up, smoothing the front of her dress, and closed the door softly behind her.
Hawke smirked to herself, and got up from her bed, and walked over to her mirror. She combed her fingers through her hair and looked herself once over. No bruises, not cuts, no love bites from their night together. Good, she thought. Would be best for everyone if she just pretended nothing happened. I wish it hand't happened.
Fenris jolted awake, his heart pounding in his couldn't breathe, couldn't see. The light screaming in his room from outside was blinding him and he could smell pavali all around him. He was drowning in it. He's not here, he doesn't know where I am, he can't. It's been so long, why would he find me now. Fenris pulled his knees to his chest and squeezed his head between them. He's not here he's not here he's not not here not not here notherenotherenotherenot
Fenris sobbed, his cries tearing through his body. Flashes of his mother's face, smiling but dead blurred in front of him. A woman, an elf whose eyes were the same color as his. And a name. A name he didn't recognize, but yearned for nonetheless, was echoed around in his head. Leto. Leto Leto Leto. He couldn't place the voice, but it had a Tevinter accent. It sounded kind. Fenris tore the sheets off his bed and threw them in the corner. They were suffocating him like the stench of wine on Danarius' breath. He could feel his hand around his throat. Could feel could see could hear
My little wolf, you've been so good today
"No, please," he whimpered into his palm, bitting down to keep quiet. He couldn't breathe.
Hawke straightened her shirt and pulled on her boots before leaving to meet the others at the Hanged Man. She was slightly embarrassed about whatever she may have done last night, but knew she had to face them eventually. Her stomach knotted at the thought of seeing Fenris. How would he react? Did he miss her? Did he regret everything? She didn't think she wanted to know.