Chapter 9

Hide

"You sure this is what you want?" Varric asked knowingly, shrewdly eyeing the elf before him. "Doesn't seem like you've been enjoying yourself."

Angry eyes glared down at him, flashing unnervingly. "We've had this discussion before, dwarf."

Varric shrugged. "Sometimes things change."

"Indeed." Fenris said as Ander's light chuckle echoed over to them from the table. Green eyes narrowed darkly. "I think it would be best if I just stayed away."

Nodding reluctantly Varric handed him the key with a regretful sigh.

He knew what the elf had told him was true; he wanted to protect Hawke. Fenris had opened up enough for the dwarf to realize his twisted former master would target anyone he'd been close to these past years; it was crucial that Danarius never learned of his connections. So it had always been Fenris's plan to disappear at the first hint of the magister. To keep Hawke safe.

Fenris had been in hiding for a little more than three weeks, moving from safe house to safe house, keeping out of sight and hidden from his hunters. But Varric had heard no word of Hadriana, had heard no word of any Tevinters, and everyday took its toll on Hawke. The dwarf had had more problems keeping the elf hidden from a prying Hawke than he had from sneaking magisters. It was clear to Varric that she missed the man terribly- she certainly asked about him enough - it just wasn't clear to Fenris. As far as the dwarf was concerned the well- intended warrior was doing more harm than good. But Fenris refused to abandon his plans. Safety, he'd said, was what mattered, and Varric had known he hadn't just meant his own.

The elf was almost as stubborn as Hawke. Almost. "Head to the Docks." Varric said. "In a warehouse to the east there's a small side room. It's all you'll have, but there will be enough food and water for the next few days."

Taking the key, Fenris gave a short nod and turned to leave, but stopped just before he left the dwarf's little sleeping niche. "Is she…" he whispered tightly, "Is she happy?"

Surprised, Varric eyed the tense back of the elf. Was he actually asking…? "Yeah." He replied softly. Fenris nodded jerkily and began to move away, "But elf," he called, stopping him again, "Sometimes, things change."

Offering a small smile as the distressed warrior looked back over his shoulder at him, Varric hoped Fenris would get it through his thick skull, hoped he would abandon this foolish hiding and cure Hawke's foul mood. But the bleakness in those dark green eyes didn't hold much room for hope, and as Fenris turned away and hurriedly slipped out of the suit, Varric shook his head, wondering how he'd ended up with such fool headed friends.


.oO:OO:Oo.


Anders didn't see the silent elf steal out of the suit. Merril hadn't realized he'd been here at all. Isabella didn't notice how he never looked back. But Hawke did.

She watched him slink out from over the rim of her mug as she took another not-so-delicate swig. The whiskey was warm, bitter and cheap, but the young woman couldn't bring herself to care. Because everything tasted bitter at that moment.

Because Fenris had been with another woman.

That was the reason. It had to be.

The reason he'd turned down her offer, the reason he'd left her estate in the dead of night, and the reason he'd been suspiciously absent. She'd worried herself haggard over whether Danarius had come for him, over whether he was dead or in chains somewhere. She'd searched for him, endlessly wondering. But all of her care and worry had been worthless.

He'd been safe enough, hidden in the arms of some mystery woman he was Cursed to love.

She felt the sharp pang of frustration, of sadness, of complete and total futility twist her stomach - or was that her heart?

Willing her mind to blank out the rising hurt, the welling panic she downed her drink. She didn't know which was worse, the pain of his rejection, or the knowledge that he'd already been with another and never bothered to tell her.

"Are you alright?" asked Anders quietly as she felt his arm slip around her and give her a gentle squeeze. She knew he was trying to be kind, trying to cheer her up just like he had the entirety of the past few weeks. He really was a kind man. Just not the one she wanted. She spared him a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes, not caring enough to push him away.

At the moment she couldn't bring herself to care about much.


.oO:OO:Oo.


It was a tight little room, cramped and cold and dusty. Making sure the plain door was shut tight and locked behind him, Fenris took his sword from his back and set it against the wall. Varric had again been thorough; water set in clay containers, bread and cheese wrapped beside it against one wall, and a blanket against the other.

It had everything he needed to survive; everything he would need for the next three days.

But it didn't have Hawke. He sighed as he leaned against a wall and slid down to sit in the dust. He knew that the coming days would be hell, full of dreams, full of worry, just like the last few weeks.

It was a shame that safe houses kept you hidden from hunting Magisters, but not from your own thoughts. These past couple weeks had been torture.

He'd been plagued by dreams. Thankfully none had been quite as...potent as the one the night of her offer. But they were no less aggressive. Dream Hawke was not the same woman he'd come to know over the years. She was just as bold, just as beautiful as the real Hawke, but her affection hinted at malicious intent, the intent to keep him there, to drive him crazy if he ever left her side. His dreams were full of sadistically seductive nights spent with her, calls for him to return. It was terrible, an irresistible combatant to his plans.

But no so bad as his worry.

He'd worried - of course he had. He'd worried about Danarius, about Hadraina, but most of all he'd worried about Hawke. Fears and memories of a bloody Seheron night had plagued him, making him agitated and tense. He'd been haunted by insecurities in his tight little hiding places, doubts regarding the inevitable encounter with his former tormenter. It was foolish of him to think Hadriana did not already know of his connection to the young woman; his plans to keep Hawke safe by staying away had started to seem obsolete. It was unbearable to think that his presence could bring Hawke tragedy, but even worse was the idea that Hadriana could be launching an attack while he hid like a coward in the slums. Fenris would never forget the pain that twisted woman had caused him, would never forget the smug smirk on her ugly face when she "practiced" her wicked magic on him, and he would never forgive himself if he let Hadriana get to Hawke.

He wanted to know what was happening. He wanted to know what to do.

He wanted to go back to Hawke.

But it seemed as though she did not want him back. Apparently she was happy enough with her mages.

It'd been foolish, he knew, but as he'd climbed the dirty stairs to Varric's suit earlier that night, he'd hoped to find things just the way they'd been 3 weeks ago. It would be the first time he'd seen Hawke since the night of her offer and all he'd wanted was a warm fire, tolerable company, and a laughing Hawke. He'd wanted to see her smile again, to see her fiery eyes spark with joy, and forget about the Curse, about over-stepped boundaries and hunting magisters.

But the fire hadn't been comforting, full of dancing shadows and lashing tongues of heat. And everyone was hushed. There'd been no storytelling, no laughter; just a quiet and angry Hawke, full of viscous indifference. The woman had shot barely more than a callous glance his way before turning her regard back to the man beside her; back to Anders.

Fenris didn't know what made him angrier; the fact that Hawke was angry at him for not giving into her selfish offer and apparently holding a grudge, or the harsh reminder of just who held her true affections.

He felt a fool for all his wasted time spent worrying over her, all of his time spent waiting to see her. Fenris knew he shouldn't have expected differently; knew that Hawke had made her decision despite a few shared kisses. But seeing them together, watching Anders slip his arm possessively around her shoulders, being so blatantly reminded of her choice, still set his blood boiling.

Another side effect of the curse.

Unconsciously he clenched his fist, feeling the harsh prick of his sharp gauntlets against lyrium embroidered skin.

It was understandable that Hawke would be with someone – someone other than him, he secretly admitted. She was a beautiful woman, kind and smart and viscously brave. What man wouldn't want her?

But Fenris did not think it was wise to have chosen Anders. He didn't trust the mage. Hawke did not see the darkness lurking behind those eyes, did not see the growing emptiness, the slipping control. But Fenris did. And he didn't want Hawke anywhere near the man the moment she finally learned his true colors.

Unfortunately, Fenris didn't think she would listen to him. Not that she ever did, but especially not now. It was a hidden side to her, an aspect of her personality he'd never been privy to, but it seemed as though she was capable of holding infuriating grudges. He'd hoped differently. Hoped that she'd forgiven him for scorning her offer, hoped that she'd realized that some boundaries shouldn't be crossed. But he'd been wrong to hope, just like with so many other things regarding the young woman.

With barely contained frustration he let his head fall against the wall as his scowl deepened.

He was frustrated with her, but even though the thought that she would want to use him so…basely was still deeply unsettling, no matter how angry he was with her he couldn't deny his concern. And he hadn't been able deny the tightening of his heart as her voice had drifted out of the suit earlier.

He missed her, more than he ever wanted to admit.

He wanted to go back to her.

But he was afraid. Afraid that if he went back he would lead Hadriana right to her. Afraid that the next time he saw her it would be the same, that her eyes would be shadowed with the same cold anger, that she would not speak to him; that she would never forgive him.

But if he were honest with himself what he feared most of all was that if he went back he wouldn't be able to resist her a second time.

It was no wonder Hawke had chosen Anders, he was a complete coward. He wasn't even hiding from Hadriana anymore.

He was hiding from himself.


.oO:OO:Oo.


"Hush," she said softly, trying to keep the bite out of her tone, but failing miserably.

Anders quieted, moving to hold her hands firmly in his. "Hawke," he implored gently, "What's wrong?" Shaking her head she tried to pull her hands away from him, but he held on. Belatedly she wondered if this was what Fenris had felt like in a courtyard on a rainy day what seemed a century ago. It was a horrible feeling. She started to hate herself just a bit more. "Listen, Hawke. I love you; I would never lie about that." She didn't doubt him, but she didn't want him either. "I just want the little time we have together to be spent happy. So please, tell me what's wrong?" The mage brushed a bit of hair back behind her ear, smiling easily.

She knew these light touches were to offer comfort, knew his smile was meant to be reassuring. But she didn't want comfort, and she didn't want reassurance. She wanted green eyes and white hair and shy silent support. Quickly she pushed his hands away, giving herself the distance she needed. "It's nothing," she lied sharply. "Good night, Anders." And with that she walked away, leaving the man in the foyer next to the blazing fire that did nothing to warm her words.

Anders sighed and shook his head as he watched her climb the stairs. Hawke had been far too grim these past few weeks. He hadn't seen her often, but when he had there'd been an unknowable darkness behind her warm eyes. Smiles did not come easily to the young woman anymore, laughter was even scarcer.

But she'd been doing better, much better, these past days, spending more time with friends, taking more jobs - until tonight. Anders didn't understand why she was so sorrowful, the sudden downhill slide.

"I wouldn't worry too much, My Lord." Despite himself, Anders jumped. The woman had nearly scared the fade right out of him! And considering he had a direct connection to it living within him, that was a difficult feat!

Leandra stood unnoticed, regal if a bit vacant eyed, just a few feet away, fiddling with things on one of the desks, moving the quill, the ink, the paper, then putting them back in place, as though she couldn't decide, as though she couldn't remember what to do with them. She'd never truly recovered from the loss of so much of her family. It was a wound even Anders couldn't heal, and even though Hawke had tried, it had never shut. The woman was still alive and still cared for her remaining daughter deeply, but she'd been left vacant, hollowed with an emptiness that would never be filled. Anders could see it as she turned her smile on him. "She'll be over it soon enough."

He was quiet for a moment. The woman often didn't hear what was said, but perhaps she saw more than he gave her credit for. "Over what?" he asked finally.

The thin woman laughed, and Anders could hear the sweetness in the sound, the tinkling hint of the shallow vibrancy Hawke had kept alive. "Why, her broken heart, of course!" With a frown Anders went silent. "That's all this is. Though, I never imagined to see my dear Marian sick with it; I've never seen her get attached to any man." She seemed to think a moment, eyeing the upstairs distantly, sadly, before coming to herself again. "But she must forget this one." she said with conviction. "Can you imagine what the neighbors would think of that elf? Bad enough to openly be with a knife ear, but those disgusting tattoos? Garish." she tsked disapprovingly, but Anders barely heard it; his thoughts crashing to a halt. Blind to his sudden anger she lightened again, moving away towards the stairs, leaving him alone in the foyer. "No worries," she said, making little brushes of her hand as if to shoo away the stigma of elf. "She'll be over it soon enough."

With narrowed eyes Anders looked up to that second level, looked up to where he knew Hawke's room was. Suddenly he had reason for suspicion. "Indeed," the mage said quietly.


.oO:OO:Oo.

Her room was quiet, peaceful, and comfortably warm; in sharp contrast to what Hawke felt inside. Closing the door sharply, she leaned against it with a deep breath.

Anders was a good man, smart and brave and kind. But he couldn't take a hint.

She'd told him numerous times these past days- or tried to - that she didn't want to take the leap he was asking of her. Not now, at least. She supposed something could grow between them eventually; they were close already, and there'd always been something unspoken about their relationship, something that hinted of things to come. But at this exact moment, she didn't want to hear the unspoken, she wanted it to remain silent and unrecognized.

She wanted Fenris.

She snorted. Wasted want. That's all her heart ache was, all it'd ever been.

After all, Fenris was gone, back to where he'd been these past few weeks, back into the arms of his mystery lover. The thought of it set a festering fire in her heart, constricting and painful, as she roughly shoved away from the door. She'd thought that they'd grown close these past years, that he trusted her enough to confide in her. Apparently falling in love was not something on the list of things he shared, however.

Hadn't he thought she should know? Didn't he realize that if she'd known she never would have entertained the idea of being with him? She never would have kissed him?

She never would have given her heart to him...

But he hadn't told her, and her heart didn't feel like it belonged to her anymore, didn't feel like it was beating at all. He was either too blind - too stupid - to notice her growing affection or he just didn't care at all. Both hurt, both lit a dangerous anger and a swelling sadness that threatened to drown her.

Perhaps it was better to be with Anders? To just forget about the blind stupid elf that didn't care about her. Things weren't ever complicated with the mage. Despite having the Spirit of Justice locked inside him, his problems were much less deeply rooted than Fenris's. He had no lurking demons - just spirits - no hunting magisters chasing him; no reservations. He could be happy. And Hawke wanted to share that happiness...just not tonight.

Tonight she wanted to curl into bed. She didn't want to think about Anders. She didn't want to think about Fenris. She didn't want to think at all.

Tomarrow, she vowed fiercely as she pulled her shirt off roughly, tossing it away in agitation. Tomarrow, when you wake up, you'll be fine. You'll get a good night's sleep. You'll take that job for Avaline. You'll not think of Fenris at all!

With that determination, she climbed into bed, hoping that tomarrow would be better. That tomarrow would have nothing to do with sympathetic mages or lyrium branded elves. That tomarrow she would be happy.


Will Fenris realize Hawke loves him? Will Hawke realize Fenris loves her?

...Will Fenris and Hawke ever not be stupid in this story?

Tune in next time to read:...And Seek


sorry for the redundant update. i had written this last bit but for some reason i hadn't saved it in the chapter? anyways...SORRY!


MistressofMagic7: CONGRATULATIONS! YOU WERE MY 100th REVIEWER! if you want, i will dedicate a special side chapter if you choose a theme. just leave a message or review telling me one central theme for a da2 story and i'll write it up!:)

Kiersten:...is this aurora? if not...you and i have the same name! lol! freaked me out when i saw your review. I was shocked! i've never met anyone with the same name before!

AIK2: thank you for all of your reviews. I'm so happy you like my story so much. and thanks for your concern. i'm sorry you've had to go through similar pain.

Tasha and GoddessTiera: thank you. i'm sorry.

MaryGolden: I'm glad you noticed. yes. the curse will continue to develope. and not in an always good way.

and thank you to: , DamonLover01, Cruellae, iRavenHearti, jiks27, and theifkingbakura1