Promises: Chapter Fifteen

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

Fenris felt a sense of relief as they exited the tunnel they had taken from the brothel to leave Antiva City. It was great to be out of the city. He took a deep breath of fresh air and relished how it smell fresh and clean, of wind and trees, rather than the damp stench he had grown acclimated to in the few days they had spent in the city. The dirt road was soft and springy under his feet, a welcome difference from the harsh bricks and cobblestones which had left him feel bruised and battered every night.

As they set up camp for the evening, Fenris reflected that he was even grateful to be sleeping on bedrolls again. The bed last night had been too soft for his comfort. As a slave, he had grown used to sleeping on the floor and in chairs and even on his feet. When given the chance, he now slept on a bed but he did it more because he felt he ought to, as more evidence that he was no longer merely a piece of chattel, rather than because he found it more comfortable. It was one of the reasons why he insisted that his mageling take the bed when there was only one to be had; that way both of them would be able to sleep. If he took the bed and she the floor, neither of them would get much rest.

Once they had finished making camp, Hawke started up fire and informed the other two in that bossy voice of hers that she would be preparing their dinner. Fenris knew better than to argue with his mageling when her chin was set with so much determination. Though Zevran grimaced, he didn't try to convince Hawke otherwise and instead spread out his purloined maps some distance away from the fire the mageling conjured.

Fenris didn't know what to do with himself as it felt wrong just to relax while his companions were busy. His eyes drifted over to Hawke, who was rummaging through their packs. "Do you need some help?" he offered.

"No, I'm good," Hawke replied, not bothering to look in his direction. "I'm just going to make us a basic stew." She popped her head out of the pack she had been digging through and frowned at the vegetables she had gathered by the pot. "I wish we had some turnips. Maybe I should use radishes instead. They're close enough to turnips I think," she mumbled under her breath.

Fenris counted it as a victory that he managed to repress a whimper at that news. At best, Hawke's stews were bland, tasteless mush. At worst, they resembled the mud that her homeland was so famous for. He had noticed that her cooking had improved over time, and he sincerely hoped that trend would continue.

"Why don't you help Zev with his maps?" Hawke suggested. "I think he's trying to figure out where we should start looking, and knowing Zev, he needs all the good advice he can get."

That much was true. The assassin did need someone with a grasp of logic to help him. Besides helping Zevran go over his maps was better than standing around and watching Hawke butcher dinner beyond all hope of redemption. He paced over to where the assassin had carefully laid out the maps, one over the other, so that they formed one cohesive unit. Fenris stood over the assassin and frowned. Something had become apparent to him with just a single glance.

"These really are smugglers' maps. There's more detail regarding reefs and currents than anything else," he noted.

"No surprise there as I got them off a raider," Zevran agreed readily. "But these maps also show where there are caves along the coast. See?" The assassin pointed to several spots on the maps that had small half circles drawn on them. "I think the bigger the mark, the bigger the cave," the assassin went on. "So to me it makes sense that we ignore the small caves as there would be less room to hold living cargo there."

"You're assuming that these maps are drawn to scale," Fenris replied. "That's a rather large assumption to make, especially as I suspect the raider who drew these was somewhat drunk if the ale stains are anything to go by."

"And so the trend continues of you thinking that I never have any good ideas. Aside from that time in the alienage," Zevran complained.

"And I was still recovering from a nasty hangover so that doesn't count," Fenris said. There was a faint upwards quirk to his lips. He would never say as much out loud, but it was almost fun to needle the assassin.

"There's your famous sense of humor again. At least we are out of earshot of the little one. Maker knows you've been enough of a bad influence on her as it is," Zevran said.

Fenris snorted in disbelief. While he was well aware of his faults, if there was anyone who was a bad influence on the mageling, it was the assassin. "And you're not?" he asked point blank.

Zevran looked up at Fenris confused. "I'm not what?" Then his eyes widened. "Oh! You mean am I a bad influence? Of course I am. I'm an assassin and a rather lewd one to boot. But at least I am able to admit that to the world at large," he said. "So, my friend, if you don't think we should try checking out what appears to be larger caves, what do you recommend?"

"You said the slavers were headed south and east, correct?"

"Yes. Towards Rialto. Which is here." Zevran stabbed the map with his finger. "It's another port city, though not as grand as Antiva City."

Fenris frowned. That route was headed away from Tevinter rather than towards it. "So they're taking their captives away from the Imperium?" he questioned.

"Yes, it is strange, isn't it? It would make sense, perhaps, if they had decided to take the sea route starting from Rialto rather than Antiva City. Not that I know about such things but I could see that there may be reasons for that, like maybe you'll have better wind. But if you're traveling by land…well I can't see why you'd do that."

"Are there more caves and hideouts on the coast aside from what's on the map?" Fenris asked.

"Without a doubt. I don't think there is a soul alive who knows of all the hidden spots along the coast of Antiva," the assassin answered promptly.

"Then if I were to hazard a guess, it would be that they're taking their captives to some central spot. Most likely a secure holding area—something fortified against other slave hunters—that they can use to stow their captives until they're able to arrange for transportation," Fenris said.

"Is that so?" Zevran's mood noticeably lightened. "So that means if we find this holding ground, we should find the recruits, no?"

"And Brax. He would be there to keep a close eye on his investments," Fenris added. "The only problem is that I doubt that location is on this map. It would be a closely guarded secret, known only to Brax and his most trusted lieutenants."

"Of course. That's my luck. It's too much to ask for this fortified slaver hideout—which we have no evidence for mind you though I do believe your reasoning is sound—to be on Isabela's maps and clearly labeled as such."

"As Hawke said earlier, we need to make our own luck. Slave hunters are always on the prowl for more victims. We follow their trail to the next city, searching the caves along our route, and dig up what clues we can," said Fenris.

Zevran pulled a face. "It's a plan, I'll give you that, my friend. However, it doesn't seem like it will lead us to Brax anytime soon."

"If you have any bright ideas, I'm willing to listen. It's your job and your life after all. That being said, your previous bright ideas didn't exactly pan out."

"Your sympathy for my plight overwhelms me, my friend." Zevran frowned at the maps. His forehead creased as he mulled his options. "Alas I have no other ideas, and as you so kindly brought to my attention, my plans so far have turned out to be less than stunning successes. We'll try doing things your way."

Zevran continued to study the maps, claiming that he needed to read them further in order plot out the route they would take. There wasn't much help Fenris could give the assassin when it came to reading anything, and so he wandered back over to where Hawke was preparing their dinner. She looked up at him as he approached and asked if he could find some bread. He agreed but not after raising an eyebrow at her unsubtle hint that she didn't need his help. Usually his mageling was less obvious than that.

The packs were a mess, no doubt due to the way Hawke had scrounged through them. By the time Fenris found the bread, Hawke was scooping her stew into bowls for them. "Here," she said, holding a bowl out to him. "Let's trade."

It took all of Fenris' willpower not to cringe. He gritted his teeth and accepted the bowl from his mageling. She broke off a piece of bread and handed it to him to use as a spoon. Fenris blew on the stew, partly to cool it down and partly to delay eating it, while Hawke set the bread down near the pot and got her own portion ready. She took a bite and then looked at him with narrowed eyes. It seemed that Fenris couldn't delay eating her stew any longer.

He summoned his courage and took a bite. Thankfully tonight's dinner was one of Hawke's better efforts. Though he couldn't taste a thing and nothing had any texture whatsoever, the stew didn't immediately sour his stomach or make his tongue curl up in disgust.

"Well?" she asked him. She focused a steely-eyed stare upon him, and her lifted chin challenged him to say something negative.

"It's not bad," he said cautiously. Hawke broke out into a large grin, and Fenris relaxed. He had learned, thanks to the assassin, that Hawke was rather sensitive over her lack of domestic skills. Fenris did wonder about that. From what Hawke had told him, she had basically grown up on a farm. He would have thought that a farmer's daughter would have been taught how to cook and sew and all the things a farm girl needed to know to one day become a farmer's wife.

"You're thinking about something. Rather hard from the way your forehead is wrinkled. What is it?" she prodded him.

Fenris winced. He hadn't thought that she could read his expressions so easily. He usually did his best to compose his face into a blank slate, but then again, it seemed that he relaxed his guard around Hawke. A brief thought struck him that maybe she would do the same. "I was wondering something about you," he admitted.

"Oh? What?"

He wasn't about to ask without securing a promise from her first. "It might be a sensitive subject. If I ask, will you promise not to get upset with me?" He still remembered how Hawke had reacted when Zevran had teased her about her inability to mend her robes.

"I don't suppose I can get a hint of what you want to ask first? No? Oh well, it was worth a try," she said. She cast her eyes down at the ground before raising them to meet his. "All right. Go ahead and ask. Just don't…don't get upset with me if I decide not to answer."

"Fair enough. I remember back when we were traveling together how you told me all about growing up on a farm in a small village in Ferelden," he began.

"So you were listening? Sometimes I couldn't tell." The mageling clapped her hands together and grinned up at him.

Fenris ignored that comment and forged on ahead before he lost his courage. "Because of this, I can't help but wonder why you…well you said the only chore you had assigned to you was cooking and that you didn't do that often. I thought that a farmer's daughter would have…done more."

"I did do more. Lots more when it came to cleaning. But when it came to other things—womanly skills as my mother liked to call them—there wasn't much time for her to show me anything, especially as I had no aptitude for such things. I…you see my…my gift for magic, which is how my father puts it, manifested early and strong. I had to learn control and quickly. So ever since I was little, I spent most of my time learning about magic from my father. Of course as I grew older, I improved and I didn't need to spend as much time learning but by then it was clear that the only things I could do reliably was cooking, dusting, and scrubbing floors."

She gave an aggrieved sigh. "Not that I particularly like the other two. I much prefer to cook. Especially scrubbing floors. Having to be on my knees all day…no thank you."

Fenris gulped audibly and turned his head to one side, ignoring the sudden image he got of Hawke on her hands and knees. He cast about for something suitable to say in response, but his brain refused to cooperate in such matters and what was worse, his body was beginning to betray him as well. He was thankfully saved by Zevran, of all people, who chose that moment to arrive for dinner.

"I see that you have finished making your stew." Zevran eyed the concoction in the pot with little enthusiasm.

"Yes. Fenris likes it," Hawke declared. She wrinkled her nose at the assassin.

"Does he?" The assassin's eyes cut over to Fenris then back to Hawke. He shrugged his shoulders. "Well after that striking endorsement, I find that I am ready to eat."

Hawke turned back to the pot and got a portion ready for Zevran. He accepted the bowl with good humor. With a smile on his face, he took a bite.

The smile fell off.

Zevran turned to Fenris and said, "You, my friend, misled me. You severely understated just how—"

"Just how what?" Hawke crossed her arms and shifted her hips, all but daring Zevran to complete that thought.

The assassin looked at Hawke and then at Fenris. Seeing no hope coming from that quarter, he turned his attention back to Hawke. "Never mind," he said. "You are a very acceptable cook in Ferelden, I wager."

"The way you say that makes it sound like an insult."

"Does it? I need to work on giving compliments it seems. Thank you for cooking dinner, Hawke," the assassin finished gamely.

His thanks were enough for Hawke to move on from the subject of her cooking. It didn't escape Fenris' notice, however, that Zevran barely finished half of his stew even though he took several more portions of bread. He couldn't fault the assassin for that. Hawke's cooking took some getting used to—even now it turned his stomach to recall the fish she had cooked for him so long ago—but much like the mageling herself, it seemed to have grown on him. Or at least grown on him enough that he was able to finish his bowl with nary a grimace.

Author's note: Thanks to all of you kind enough to leave a review. :D