Hawke liked King Alistair. He was jovial, unpretentious, and a perfect foil to his pragmatic Warden Queen. What she did not like was sitting in long council meetings for hours on end.
Circles across Thedas were in various shades of rebellion since the Kirkwall Circle fell, and everyone seemed to want Hawke's opinion. She offered what she could, but she truly had no special insight into the problem. She merely called for debate, compromise.
Yes, she had aided the Templars in hopes of restoring order, but no, she did not think the Circles were a perfect solution. She had seen the abuses in the Gallows. She believed the horrid things Anders had told her about the Circle Tower at Lake Calenhad. Her father and sister had been apostates for most of their lives for a reason. She knew something had to change, but she did not know what.
Worse than the people turning to her were the people putting words in her mouth. Some at these meetings seemed bent on using her relationship with Anders to push their own agenda. If the Champion of Kirkwall saw the need to execute her own lover, certainly they could do as they pleased with the mages. Truly, those people made Fenris look like an apostate-hugging, Fade-frolicking mage-lover.
The meetings had adjourned for the evening, and Hawke couldn't bear the thought of dining with any of them. She would much rather spar with Fenris. Undoubtedly he had been training with his sword all morning, but that never deterred him from a good match. Slicing at something sounded like a good way to relax. Yes, and after that she would sleep very well in a very nice bed. After hearing of the shipwreck and the mud flies, King Alistair had insisted on providing Hawke, Fenris, and the guardsmen with the finest rooms he could manage. He apologized that they weren't better, but he had other dignitaries to think of as well. Hawke reminded him she had grown up in a farmhouse, not the Viscount's Keep, and thanked him for whatever he could provide.
Hawke was almost to her suite when she heard a voice behind her.
"Viscount," one of the guardsmen called to her. Ah, Hendric. He was the youngest of the four, the least sure of himself, always following his seniors around. The only time he found his own way, he found it right into a tavern, drinking and dallying. It didn't bother Hawke much, he was free to enjoy the off-duty time his seniors allotted him, but she did find him foolish.
"Yes?"
"I saw your sister earlier today," he blurted out.
Hawke was dubious. "Are you certain? Where?"
"She was in the tavern down by the docks with some other Grey Wardens. They're staying there."
Hawke was pleasantly surprised. She hadn't expected to meet her sister in Denerim, but grew excited at the prospect of seeing her. That alone was enough to make the trip feel worthwhile. "Which tavern?"
The young man's face twisted in an odd sort of confusion. "I don't know. I can lead you there, though."
"Hendric! You can't just go dragging the Viscount around. You haven't even requested permission…" Gavin, the oldest guardsman grumbled.
Hawke interrupted him. "If it's alright, I would like to see my sister."
Gavin considered, stroking his beard.
"Ser, it's just down by the docks," Hendric explained.
The senior guardsman relented. "We're here to do as the Viscount wishes, but you can't escort her alone. I will go with you."
"Yes, ser," Hendric replied.
"Excellent," Hawke declared. "Just let me see what Fenris is up to."
Hawke found the door to the suite unlocked. When she opened it, Fenris was slouched in a chair, reading. He barely looked up from his book. "You really should learn to lock doors, you know, especially since you're always scolding me."
Fenris smirked, his eyes still on the page. "How do you know I didn't unlock the door just now? I heard you making noise in the hall."
Hawke was almost certain he was bluffing, goading her into a bout of friendly banter. It would have been a welcome change after those dreadful meetings, but the prospect of seeing her sister was even more welcome. "Then surely you heard we're heading out to the docks."
Fenris crinkled his nose, finally looking up from the book. "Whatever for?"
That elf and his sense of smell… Hawke wasn't sure that Denerim's docks smelled as bad at Kirkwall's, but she recognized the distinct possibility that they smelled worse. Maybe it wasn't worth dragging Fenris into this.
"Guardsman Hendric saw my sister there earlier. I'm hoping I can catch her," Hawke explained. "I haven't seen her in ages…"
Hawke didn't miss the way Fenris's face softened a little before creases formed on his brow. "You should go then, but I don't mind staying here. Your sister does not care for me."
Fenris was so very right. His views on mages had relaxed somewhat, but not enough to make up for the first impression he'd left on Bethany during their time together.
"That makes sense," Hawke agreed.
"I'll be joining the Viscount as well," guardsman Gavin piped up. "Don't hesitate to seek out guardsmen Marek and Steven if you need anything, ser."
Fenris nodded tentatively, and Hawke couldn't help but smile. Fenris never did know what to do with himself when people deferred to him like that.
Hawke ducked into her room, meaning to simply grab her daggers. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, however, and paused. She didn't look like… Hawke. She was wearing formal clothes, hastily arranged by a royal tailor to replace the ones she'd lost in the shipwreck. It was a necessary part of her position as Viscount, but she always felt more comfortable in armor. What would Bethany say, seeing her like this?
Laughing to herself, Hawke changed into the leather armor that had seen her through her meandering journey to Denerim. It wasn't her strongest armor or her best armor, but it was solid and made her feel like herself again. She belted a dagger to each hip and stepped back out into the sitting room.
Hawke didn't miss the way Fenris's eyes followed her across the room. "You can always play cards if you get bored," she called over her shoulder, walking out into the hall.
...
The sky was solidly dark by the time they reached the docks. Lamps provided plenty of light to walk by, but not enough to pierce through the gloom down every alleyway. That was reason enough for Hawke to keep one hand on a dagger at all times. Her time in Kirkwall made her assume a band of thieves could be around any corner.
"It was near here," Hendric muttered as he led them.
They had turned north, making their way up the street between the storehouses and the piers. Gavin, too, seemed wary of his surroundings, but Hendric marched blithely on.
"It was near here," Hendric repeated, though Hawke thought his voice seemed a bit odd…
He turned, walking slowly down an alleyway. Hawke followed, and Gavin brought up the rear. The alley was darker, but not too dark that she couldn't make out Hendric. He stood still at the back of the alley, beside a heavy door.
"Hendric?" Hawke asked, "Is this the place?"
When Hendric turned to face her and drew his sword, Hawke whirled around, reaching for her daggers, assuming there was an enemy behind her. She didn't understand the sharp pain that struck against the side of her head, and all too quickly, everything went black.
...
Fenris closed his book and stood up to stretch. It had grown quite late, and though he had intended to wait up for Hawke, he also seriously considered just going to his room to sleep. He remembered the days, years ago, when they worked for smugglers to earn coin. During some of those expeditions, when Hawke and Bethany had both been in a good mood, they stayed up all night twittering about Maker knows what. It amused him to remember such things, but reminded him the same could very well happen tonight. It was enough to convince him there was no sense in waiting.
As he moved towards his bedroom, he heard a frantic pounding on the door to the hall. "Ser! Ser! Please open up!"
The voice was familiar… one of the guardsmen… Martin? Starric? Oh how Hawke would scold him if she realized he didn't know their names. With a grumbled sigh, Fenris grabbed his sword and flung the door open. The guardsman looked utterly panicked, pointing frantically down the hall.
"Ser! It's Gavin! He's come back terribly injured… and… the Viscount…"
Hawke.
Fenris didn't wait to hear more. He flew down the halls to the quarters where the guardsmen were bunked. The door was open, with a few Ferelden soldiers standing in the hall. Fenris slid past them, ignoring whatever they shouted at him.
Inside, Gavin was laid out in one of the beds. His armor had been removed and his wounds had been hastily bandaged. There was a woman at his bedside, dressed in robes, her hands aglow with healing magic. The other guardsman looked on, his face grave.
"Where's Hawke?" Fenris demanded.
The guardsman shook his head. "Gavin said Hendric took her. He tried to stop the lad, but it was all he could do to get away to alert us. The King's soldiers are preparing to search for her."
Fenris responded with a stream of Tevene expletives.
Preparing? The soldiers were milling about the hall. It would take them time to saddle their horses. It would take them time to get into formation. It would take them too much damn time.
"Where did this happen?" Fenris asked.
"I don't know, ser," the guardsman replied.
In the bed, Gavin stirred. He was clearly weak from blood loss, but the healing magic seemed to be working. "North docks… fifth pier st… storehou… house."
Fenris ran from the room without hesitation. He would have to thank the man later.
