Promises: Chapter Twenty-Four

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

Fenris woke up with a start, trying to shake the feeling that someone was staring at him. He scanned the room but didn't see anyone. Flicking his gaze over to Hawke, he saw that his mageling was sitting cross-legged on her bed and staring straight at him.

"Finally!" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet. "I was wondering when you would get up. I want to go for breakfast and so I was thinking of waking you, but I didn't know how." She gave him a shy grin. "Something tells me that pouring a cold bucket of water over you wouldn't end so well for me. Which is too bad because that's how Beth and I always woke up Carver when he tried to have a lie in, the lazy git."

"I wouldn't suggest trying that," he said. He repressed a shudder as unbidden images rose in his head of what his reaction would have been to such a surprise. While he would never hurt his mageling on purpose, instincts were instincts, and he hadn't stayed alive so long by taking time to react to surprises. If Hawke did that to him, he would likely to be well on his way to ripping out her heart before he realized what was happening.

His mageling rolled her eyes at him. "Please. Give me some credit. I wouldn't do that," she said. "I do have some sense, you know."

Fenris blinked, suddenly wary that perhaps he had upset Hawke with his comment. Hawke normally wasn't easily insulted but he remembered the mood she had been in last night. Before he could try and apologize, however, Hawke leapt up from her seat. "In addition to having common sense, I also have an enormous appetite at the moment," she told him. "How about you get up and then we find something to eat? I'm starving."

"That's not surprising. You didn't eat dinner last night," he grumbled. Neither did he, and so he was hungry as well. The unpleasant sensation of his stomach being empty was not something he had dealt with for a while. As a slave, he had been used to not having regular meals. Eating had also not always on the schedule when he had been on the run on his own due to lack of time, lack of money, or both. That changed once Hawke had decided to tag along with him. His mageling always made time for meals, and what was more, with her along, food was much more affordable. He had been exasperated with Hawke the first time she had stopped him from raiding a hard, but such exasperation had faded with time, helped by the fact that Hawke was able to get food at bargains that he had never dreamed of.

"Yes, well, are you trying to tell me that you're not hungry? Because it didn't escape my notice that you didn't eat last night too." She shot him a sideways glance, and he could see the wheels turning in her head. "You shouldn't be afraid to mingle without me," she told him.

"I'm not," he promptly replied. "It's just that I don't care to mingle, as you put it, with strangers."

"You're never going to make more friends that way, Fenris."

Fenris grunted in response, not wanting to get in an argument with Hawke first thing in the morning. He didn't particularly want to make any friends for he didn't quite see the point of them. It wasn't as though he lacked for companionship after all; he had Hawke and she was all that he needed.

"That doesn't sound like you agree with me," Hawke said, interrupting his thoughts.

He shrugged his shoulders in response, but he could tell that didn't satisfy his mageling either by the way she crossed her arms and tapped her foot. A thought occurred to him, and he hid a grin. It was time to turn the tables on Hawke. "You know you didn't have to wait for me," he pointed out. "If you were starving, you could have gone to the galley by yourself."

A faint tinge of red appeared across Hawke's face. "Um…yes, well about that," she mumbled. She looked down and away from him, twirling her fingers in front of her. "This is a little embarrassing to admit, but I'm afraid I don't know where the galley is. I wasn't exactly paying attention yesterday when Isabela showed us."

Both of Fenris' eyebrows shot up at that admission. Hawke must have been out of it indeed not to have remembered where the galley was. There actually wasn't all that much to Isabela's ship below decks. The lowest level of the ship was reserved for cargo, plain and simple. The middle level that they were on housed the living spaces. Isabela had her own cabin, being captain of the ship, and there were two other private cabins, including the one that Hawke and Fenris were in. The sailors themselves lived in a large, common room that Fenris thought resembled barracks while the galley was across from there. The remaining space on the middle level held all of the supplies the ship would use on its journey.

Of course, Hawke could have always ventured out on her and simply have asked for directions. That would have been very like his mageling. However, he decided not to press the issue for despite his teasing of her, Fenris would rather have Hawke wait for him than to go on by herself.

"Very well. I'll be ready shortly." He got up off the bed and then pulled his armor out from where he had stuffed it below the bed last night. Though theoretically they would have no one to fight, seeing how they were on a ship that was headed out to sea, he still wanted to be prepared for contingencies. His eyes drifted over to Hawke, and he noted that she was dressed in mage robes rather than the tempting outfit of the day before.

Fenris didn't know to be relieved or disappointed about that.

Relief took precedence, however, once they had exited their room. Fenris noticed more than one sailor's eyes drifting over to Hawke and lingering on the mageling's form. His fingers twitched with the urge to do something about such stares, especially when he remembered all the looks she garnered during the tour Isabela gave them yesterday.

Thankfully when they arrived at the galley, it was empty. Hawke didn't share his relief. "Oh no," she cried. "Don't tell me we missed breakfast."

"All right then. I won't." Both Fenris and Hawke turned to look at who had spoken. A sailor with a black patch over one eye was sitting towards the back of the room. From the splotches on the man's tunic, Fenris hazarded that he was the ship's cook. The man's haphazard appearance didn't inspire much confidence in his ability as a chef, but then that didn't really matter to Fenris as he wasn't a picky eater. He ate food that Hawke cooked after all.

Hawke sighed. "Great. So there's nothing to eat. What time are meals served on this ship? Isabela never told us. If I had known breakfast was so early, I would have woken Fenris up somehow."

The man shrugged his shoulders. "Breakfast normally starts at the crack of down, but the captain wanted the men up earlier today to make sure everything's in place to catch the morning tide. And I never said that there's nothing to eat. There's plenty of porridge if you're hungry." He jerked a thumb behind him, pointing out a large pot that sat on the last table in the room. There were a few bowls and spoons laid out beside the pot, and it was clear that was all that remained from whatever breakfast had been served.

Hawke perked up at the word 'porridge' and she trotted over to the pot, with Fenris close on her heels. She squealed in excitement when she reached the pot. Peering over her shoulder, Fenris couldn't see why Hawke was so excited. Frankly the porridge was grey and unappetizing, and was making him reconsider if he really wanted to eat breakfast.

"Oh my!" Hawke chirped. "That's a proper Fereldan porridge, isn't it? Icky and sticky to keep your insides warm during winter."

"Aye, that it is," replied the man. "So you're Fereldan too? My name's Bart."

"Nice to meet you, Bart," Hawke said. She picked up a bowl and began scooping out a generous size serving for herself as Fenris continued his debate on the merits of eating the gruel before him. "My name is Hawke, and this is—"

"Fenris, your loyal elven bodyguard," Bart finished for her. "I already know all about you as does the rest of the ship. You'll find that sailors gossip worse than a flock of old hens."

"Oh dear. I wonder what sort of stories are already floating around about us." Hawke handed off the overly-full bowl to Fenris and started filling up another one. Fenris checked a sigh. It looked like his decision was made for him. He would indeed be partaking of the Fereldan gruel that Hawke apparently loved.

The gruel was improved, Fenris found, by the bits of dried apples that Hawke was able to charm the ship's cook into giving them. He was also happy to see that in addition to ale, there was a pitcher of fresh water available for drinking. The water had several large slices lemons added to it, which was an old trick to ward off disease according to Bart. Hawke took a seat across from the ship's cook, making it easy for her to strike up a conversation with him.

"So tell me, what sort of rumors have been spreading about the ship in the short time since we've arrived," she asked boldly.

"Oh the usual sort. The most common one is that you're the daughter of a noble family who was disowned after being seduced by the captain, with only one loyal servant left by your side."

Hawke snorted at that. "Hardly. I don't think I'm Isabela's type."

"Let me give you a piece of advice. The captain insists on her title when we're on the ship. Claims that way no one ever forgets whose in charge. And as for your not being her type—everyone who's mildly attractive is her type so long as they don't work for her."

Fenris filed that bit of information for use later. Hawke continued to press Bart for more examples of what people were saying about him. Fenris wound up being rather taken aback about how many stories had been made up about the pair of them in such a short period of time. Most of the stories pegged Hawke as being a noble on the run from something while casting him as in the role of bodyguard. He picked at his food while the other two talked. The gruel wasn't as bad as he had feared. While it was indeed sticky, it was thankfully not icky as Hawke had described it.

"But it's clear to me that none of those tales are true since you're from Ferelden," Bart concluded after he had finished describing yet another mad tale about them.

"That's right. I'm from Lothering, actually. You probably haven't heard of it," Hawke replied.

"From Lothering? I was there once. Not much to see," said Bart.

Hawke nodded her head. "I know. We're in the middle of nowhere. Worse, we're right up next to the Wilds. Still the farmland is good there, and we're big enough to rate our own Chantry. That's more than what some towns can boast of."

"True that. Though I was never comfortable in Lothering, and I was only there for all of a day. They say that there's an old witch living in those Wilds of yours."

"Oh the Wilds belong to no one," Hawke said airily in between bites of food. "As for witches…well you've got me there. We heard the same stories of course. My father is not a superstitious man. The fact that he gave them credence makes me think that there is something to those tales."

"Unlike the ones about the two of you. The other men will be so disappointed when they've learned that they've all guessed wrong," said Bart.

"I'm honestly surprised that you all found us that interesting. Surely Isabela—sorry Captain Isabela—has had passengers on board before."

"Yes, but you're the most memorable we've had in a long time." Bart shot a glance over at Fenris. "And I also think you're the…youngest passenger we've ever had," he added.

Fenris caught the man's meaning. The sailors had been busy gossiping because Hawke was a lovely girl. From Bart's earlier comments, it appeared that Isabela did not sleep with her crew which meant that left Hawke as the only available female on board. Suddenly Fenris was very glad that Hawke hadn't left him behind to seek out the galley on her own. He would have to keep a very close on eye on her to make sure that no one tried to take advantage of her innocence.

Bart glanced over at the lone clock in the room. "Time to ring the bells almost," he noted clinically. He turned his attention back to the pair. "We'll be departing soon. I suggest the two of you head up on deck. It'll be the last time you see land for awhile," he told them.

"Oh? Let's go then," Hawke said, getting up from her seat. "We can't miss this."

Fenris wasn't too keen on the prospect of letting his mageling wander about on deck. However, he couldn't tell her no, not when she was practically bouncing with excitement. He got up from her seat and showed her how to get up on deck. Thankfully they didn't attract too much attention for all of the sailors were too busy following Isabela's orders. The lady pirate stood near the ship's wheel, packing back and forth as she kept an eye on the activity. Her gaze flickered over them, and she waved them to one side of the ship, where they wouldn't be in the way.

Hawke grasped the railing of the ship as the anchor was lifted and they cast off. "And that's the end of our adventures in Antiva," she said almost wistfully.

"Yes," he said, "and on to the Free Marches."

"The Free Marches won't be like Antiva," Hawke stated. "My mum's from Kirkwall so I know a little about them. They're not a single state, more like a loose confederation of cities. Kind of what Ferelden used to be, I imagine."

Fenris already knew all of that, but he saw no reason to tell Hawke as much. His mageling liked to chat, especially when she was feeling nervous, and he didn't mind listening to her. He was rather fond of the sound of her voice, but then if he was being truth with himself, he was very fond of her—and even that might not be going far enough.

"Kirkwall's at the southern edge of the Free Marches though, but that's just as well seeing how many templars are there. Wycombe…Wycombe is…." Hawke closed her eyes as though to mentally picture a map. "On the coast, of course, but what's more than that, it's at the mouth of the Minanter. That probably makes it a good port town." She crinkled her nose. "Though hopefully not as stinky as Antiva City."

Fenris allowed himself a small shudder. "I doubt anything could smell as bad as that place."

"Indeed. Though I have to wonder sometimes if its inhabitants' despair adds to the stench," Hawke said, giving Fenris a start. It was very uncharacteristic of his mageling to say something like that.

"That…doesn't sound like something you would normally say," he told her cautiously.

Hawke turned towards him, letting go of the rail. She hung her head, not meeting his eyes. "No, it isn't. But I've been thinking…you must think that I'm such a fool, wanting to return those children to their parents and all when their parents were the ones who sold them to the Crows. It's hard for me to wrap my mind around that—how can a parent care so little for their child?"

"You were blessed with loving parents," Fenris noted.

"That I was indeed. I didn't really realize just how lucky I was until recently. Father and Mother would have done anything to keep us safe and happy. I mean, it would have been so much easier for them if they had just dropped me off at the Circle."

"But your father is a mage," said Fenris.

"Yes, well, obviously Mother would have had to do the dropping off. It still must have been difficult for both of them, especially Father. He had to teach me how to control my magic while also keeping food on our table and a roof over our heads." Her breath caught, and Fenris winced. He knew that sound. It meant that his mageling was on the verge of tears.

"I feel bad now," she said in a small voice. "There was a time when I was angry at Father for not chasing after me. But there must have been some reason why he couldn't, and I'm sure he beats himself up each day over not being able to find me."

"We could try to find them," Fenris suggested.

"Where would we start looking? Ferelden is a large country, and knowing Father, he probably picked another backwater to relocate our family to," said Hawke.

"I imagine we might run into other Fereldans in our journeys, like Bart," said Fenris. He didn't like this mood of Hawke's. His mageling was supposed to be bright and cheerful, not sad and depressed. "It can't hurt to ask if they've heard of your family."

"That's kind of like looking for a needle in a haystack," she muttered. "Although—" Her forehead creased, and Fenris could tell she had thought of something.

"Although what?" he prodded her.

"I told you Mother is from Kirkwall, right? She actually still has family there, my uncle Gamlen."

"I see. Would your uncle know where your family is?"

"Maybe. Mother writes to him, but not all that often. So like I said, maybe." Hawke chewed her lower lip. "I don't know if I want to go to Kirkwall though. Like I said, there are a lot of templars there. Maybe we can try what you said first. You know travel towards Kirkwall and see if we're lucky enough to run into someone who has heard of my family. And if we're not—well that's when we'll decide whether to venture into the lion's den or not. I'm not too eager for another run-in with templars at the moment."

Fenris nodded his head. He didn't want to have to deal with templars again either, but he knew that it was inevitable just as it was inevitable that Danarius would send more slave hunters after him. They would have to be careful, and they would have to watch each other's backs. He was suddenly grateful towards whatever deity had chosen to send Hawke his way. Before he had met Hawke, he had always been alone and there had been no one he could rely on. His life had changed so much because she was in it, and he was much better for it.

"We can do that," he said, his voice rough with emotion. He stepped closer to her, not wanting anyone else to hear his next words, so that they were practically toe to toe. "And if the templars do hound your steps…you won't have to deal with them on your own. You'll have me. For as long as you want," he told her. And even longer, he added in his head.

Hawke lifted her chin, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Fenris! That's…that's…." Hawke choked on her words. For a moment, Fenris was afraid that she was going to start crying but then she smiled at him and his fear was ended. He was struck by her simple beauty. His eyes lingered on the fullness of her lips, and he couldn't help but wonder how they would taste. They were so close that all he needed to do to kiss was bend his head, and then his lips would be meeting hers. The thought was tempting—too tempting—and he desperately fought for control, not wanting to scare her by showering her with unwanted affection.

But then a thought rose up from the depths of his heart—maybe she wanted him too.

It was a thrilling idea, to think that Hawke was attracted to him the way he was to her, but one he had no evidence for. Sure Hawke had stuck to his side, despite how unpleasant he had been towards her in the beginning, but that didn't mean anything. She also had turned down all the advances she had received, but all that meant was she wasn't interested in anyone they had met so far. Of course, there was also that brilliant smile of hers, the one that never failed to make him hard and that she used only for him and—

Void take him, he couldn't resist the temptation to kiss her any longer. He bent his head down but then stopped when Hawke suddenly turned a sickening shade of green.

Fenris could only watch in horror as his mageling turned back to the rail and vomited, spewing the contents of her stomach into the sea. "Andraste's ass, have her face downwind!" Isabela shouted from her post.

He checked a sigh as he stepped forward to turn Hawke appropriately. Fenris remained by Hawke's side while his mageling proved that her fears of being sick on board were well justified.

Author's note: Isn't that the perfect place to stop? Anyway my thanks goes out to everyone who left reviews. Reading them was one of the best parts of my day. :D