When Hawke arrived home from the Viscount's errand a day later, there was a note waiting for her at the estate.

Marian-

Going out to stretch my legs for a bit. I heard a rumor about my relic. I'll be dug in with the riff-raff on the docks for awhile. Will come and see you as soon as I'm back.

- Isabela

Thus, Hawke completed in her mind, conveniently avoiding any conversation about what happened between you and Fenris.

She could be so damned evasive sometimes. She could disappear for a week, and then show up like nothing had happened. Where had she been? "Out."

This when Hawke had never given her any reason not to trust her, had in fact gone out of her way to emphasize her devotion to Isabela's independence and happiness.

Hawke knew very well what "stretching her legs" probably entailed, and it wasn't just infiltrating a gang of smugglers. Well, as long as she still pinned Hawke to her bed for days on end whenever she reappeared, it was alright with her.

If she was bound and determined to breeze in and out of Marian's life as she pleased, Hawke was not going to stop her. She would always wait with open arms for Bela to come home, whenever she was ready. Maybe that would finally show Isabela that she was not going to suddenly turn around and betray her, as so many people in the pirate's life had done.

But what had happened in the Viscount's suite? Isabela had neatly avoided telling her, and Fenris was not likely to be helpful.

Hawke laid her arms on the desk and rested her chin on them. It was lonely when Bela was away. Normally she took this opportunity to visit with her friends, but these days her friends were occupied. Aveline was all wrapped up in Donnic, Varric was hunting for his brother Bartrand, and Fenris.. well, Fenris wasn't speaking to her, was he?

She realized she had not been alone with Fenris since all of this had started. They used to be able to talk. She liked talking with him; he was a good listener, unlike a lot of the people she ran with. Plus, he was compulsively honest; if she asked, he would probably have told her the whole story about what the two of them were doing in Bran's office.

But that was before they propositioned him. Now he was too uncomfortable around her to even come along on their various missions around the city, and that was a problem. They needed his blade, and what's more, his experience with the Qunari was going to be invaluable in the days to come.

The more Hawke thought about this, over the next few days, the more she began to think the whole thing had been a mistake. Isabela would be furious with her for saying so. She still insisted it would all work out in their favor once Fenris gave in to their temptation. But in the process, they had completely alienated him from the group. No one saw him much anymore. He hardly ever left that horrible house. Was it really worth having sex with him if they lost his friendship in the process?

So she decided – before Isabela could return and talk her out of it – to go to Fenris and wave a white flag. With a sincere apology and a promise to convince Isabela to cooperate.

And if Bela didn't like it, well, she'd jump off that bridge when she came to it.

Trouble was, how to make him listen to her, what with the whole not-talking-to-her thing. He wasn't answering the door, and she could hardly write him a letter. She'd seen the pile of unread missives strewn by the door, unopened.

He would not appreciate her picking the lock to his door and breaking into his house. But what else could she do?

**

In the end, at the close of a very long and boring day with no sign of Isabela, Hawke broke into the house next door instead.

Breaking and entering was her specialty. She'd never enjoyed pickpocketing, although she had the skill when it was needed. But she enjoyed almost nothing more than breaking open closed doors to see what was behind them. Nowadays she hardly needed to pilfer stray riches to support her family, but she still on occasion would pick the lock of a particularly interesting looking estate and stroll through it, just to keep a hand in.

This lock was so simple it was almost insulting. Light-footed, Hawke stole through the Hightown estate and made her way to the garden door. She could hear a few muffled voices coming from closed doors, and stole quickly past them. Whoever lived there (she had never seen them personally) they had an appalling taste in decoration. Obviously Orlesian, everything drowning in lace and flowers and ornate enameled patterns that warred with each other for your eye.

The garden was slightly better - still overdone, but at least with living and growing flowers rather than opulent fakery. There were at least three fountains bubbling with water, and blossoms of every shape and variety. If she had not been in a hurry to leave before she was spotted, she might have liked to linger there among the flowers.

The adjoining garden that was her destination was a completely different case. Even from a very limited glimpse available to her over the high garden wall, the most prominent colors displayed were brown and grey. Dead things and rocks.

Cheery.

She lifted herself to peer over the wall, looking for a safe spot to land. There were brambles all over the place, painful looking ones. Beyond the overgrown vines and thorn bushes, closer to the magister's mansion, Hawke caught a flash of movement. The sun glinted off a steel sword whipping through the air that darted out of her view.

Hawke scrambled over the wall, hopefully without attracting too much attention, and darted behind a scraggly-looking bush. She was looking for a better place to hide and scout the territory, when she caught a glimpse of Fenris and promptly froze.

She had come upon Fenris in a pair of loose trousers and nothing else, the sun turning his skin a warm golden as he performed a series of exercises with his weaponry.

Her eyes widened as Hawke drank him in. She had never seen him without his armor, not even once. Now here he was without a shirt, and giving her a spectacular view of his upper half in action.

Hawke crept closer, no longer thinking very much of stealth. Crouching behind another set of brambles not twenty feet away, she could for the first time stare at him uninterrupted, without startling him off. She knew she should feel guilty about spying on him like this. It was a bit pervy, wasn't it? She would stop. She would reveal herself and hope he didn't punch her in the spleen. In a few… more… minutes...

He wasn't all that much taller than Hawke herself, but quite tall for an elf, and his torso looked very long and lean. His muscular shoulders, usually hidden under spiky paldrons, flexed smoothly as he held his huge sword aloft, turned it, spun around and struck. The long, corded muscles that lead from his neck to his shoulders were so sleek and smooth. Her eyes followed them back and forth, the way she wanted to trace that line with the tips of her fingers. His long arms extended around him fully, fluidly, and the spidery veins of lyrium that encircled them seemed to flow like water as he moved. She was fascinated by the subtle rippling of his abdominal muscles under his dusky skin. She wanted to taste that skin. She wanted to bite him. Dear maker what was wrong with her, that was such a bizarre thought. But right then she wanted to press her face to that chest more than she wanted anything else in the world. She had to settle for biting her lip instead.

What made the moment even more special was that she had never seen him quite so loose and relaxed. With no one around to observe, he seemed almost like a different person. Calmer, less tense. With his sword, unlike most other things, he was confident, in command. This, Hawke felt, was what he would really be like, if she could ever get to know him truly, and if he didn't have so much baggage weighing him down. Strong. Solid. Elegant. Graceful.

Just as her legs were growing tired, and she realized she had not gotten around to fully concealing herself (with all the ogling of the male form and whatnot) Fenris spoke up.

"Come out now. I know you're here."

Hawke put one hand to the ground and held very still. If she was not careful in revealing herself, she really would get a close-up view of Shirtless Fenris. Just before he impaled her.

Fenris turned again, smoothly, and pointed his sword in her direction. Without looking away from the point of his sword, he addressed the intruder. "I do not appreciate your breaking into my home, Hawke."

"I didn't break in," she said indignantly, as she emerged from the brush. "Not into your house, anyway. I picked the lock to the neighbors, and climbed over the back wall."

He let his sword fall to his side, turning away from her. "You could have used the front door."

"Your front door is locked, and you don't answer when I knock."

There was a bench next to the house where he set his sword. To her relief, he immediately grabbed at a shirt, a black shirt, and pulled it over his head.

For some impossible reason, this was even worse. The light shirt clung to his musculature in a ridiculously appealing way.

Maker, Fenris. Must you look so attractive when I'm actually NOT trying to seduce you? You're making this very bloody difficult...

"I'm sorry to sneak up on you like this, really I am. I just needed to talk to you, and I can't find you anywhere anymore."

"Talk, then," he said shortly, opening the back door to his mansion.

She followed him in, unsure where to begin. She had entirely forgotten the little speech she had rehearsed earlier, so flustered she had been by the scene witnessed moments ago.

It had given her an entirely new idea, one completely contrary to her mission here today. She didn't know if it was a bad idea, or a very bad idea, or the best idea she'd ever had. She wished, once again, that Isabela was there with her.

"I came to.. talk about what's been going on," she began.

Fenris cut her off abruptly. "Did Isabela tell you? About.. a few days ago?"

"No, she didn't tell me anything. She took off, actually."

He sighed. He had lead her into the sitting room where he spent most of his time, and knelt at the corner where his armor was neatly laid out. "I suppose that was too much to hope for," he said, mostly to himself.

Marian noticed that already he had tensed up, holding himself in tighter control than what she had seen of him outside. Even his face was guarded, revealing nothing of whatever was happening inside.

"You don't have to-" Marian started to say, and then stopped. He was already pulling his armored plate over his head and buckling it in place.

She supposed that was a relief, to have that very distracting view removed for this important conversation. But it made her sad to think he could not be around her without covering himself in armor.

It was another reminder that perhaps she had been incredibly foolish to think that anything could happen between them.

When he stood, fully armored now, Hawke spoke up.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry. For the last few weeks, for Isabela and I."

Fenris turned to look at her warily.

"It all seemed like a good idea at the time. But now I hardly see you anymore and it's all very awkward and I... I rather miss you. Your company, that is. I miss us all joking around in the Hanged Man, playing cards, drinking. Having you with us. So I just wanted to... apologize."

"That isn't necessary, Hawke." Finally he came closer to her, seemingly put at ease by her words.

"I want to. This is hard to explain... it's a bit embarassing, really. You must think we're some kind of crazed sex maniacs."

"Just maniacs, perhaps."

It was nice to hear him joking again.

"Well anyway, it was something that Isabela wanted to do for me, and..."

Hawke had suddenly become the most inarticulate person on the entire planet. She hardly knew what she was saying anymore. Maker, she should not be doing this. The whole idea was to put an end to the ridiculous situation they were in. But now that she was here in front of him, she could not resist one last ditch effort. It was a nagging feeling that she could not shake, that she needed to try just one more time.

"Okay, this is driving all of us crazy, so... I'm just going to put it to you - I mean, in a question - and you say yes or no and we all go on our merry way, and I never mention any of this again ever. Okay?"

Aghast, he tried to stop her from continuing this train of thought. "Hawke-"

"I'm going to suggest something different than before. Because I've thought about this a lot, and what might, um, work for everybody. And I thought that maybe you'd like to watch Isabela and I?"

"I've been doing little else recently," he said pointedly.

"I mean fully. Come into our bedroom, watch us have sex."

"I don't – wait – what?"

"Just watching. Nothing else. No pressure to join. You wouldn't have to do anything, just be there, just watch."

Fenris looked utterly baffled. "But - what would you get out of that?"

She grinned, a little shyly. "Well, I get Isabela, obviously. And we get to share ourselves with someone else. And if you enjoy it, then I'll be happy for that. And Isabela would be thrilled, she loves to show off, so I'll enjoy her being happy as well. You see?"

"No," he said. He still looked a bit confused.

"Well," Hawke said, backing away a little bit to emphasize that she was not trying to pressure him, "just think about it, okay? Anyway, either way we're backing off. No more public displays, no more showing up places you go. I promise, no more of that."

"What about this new proposal? You won't keep asking me about it?"

"No, no. I'll never mention it again, okay? Not unless you bring it up. I want you to come back with us. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I'll make sure Isabela backs off too."

"Thank you," he said.

"So... I'll just go out the front door, then," she said, awkwardly.

Fenris followed her. His expression was thoughtful.

"Was this… watching… Isabela's idea?"

"Well, no. Actually she doesn't know about it. I don't know where she is, like I said. She took off a few days ago. She does that sometimes."

He looked a bit regretful, at that.

"She wouldn't say a word about what happened between the two of you. And don't try to tell me nothing happened, because clearly you were both upset."

"It is my turn to apologize, then. I did not intend to come between the two of you. You should ask her to explain, when she returns."

"It must be a big deal. You're not talking to me, she's not talking to me, but clearly you talked to each other, and you're both upset."

"What exactly do you think is going on?" he asked quizzically.

"I don't know." Hawke was making her way down the stairs of the front hall, and stopped. She took a deep breath, and decided she may as well explain her suspicions. She looked back at him, lingering above her.

"I thought that maybe the two of you did something, and maybe you felt guilty about it. Because of me. Maybe, instead of a group of three, you two would rather just have each other. Which would be okay," she added quickly. "I'd be fine with that. It would be nice to see you happy. Both of you."

Fenris gave her a look that, on another face, she might have called affectionate.

"That is... kind of you to say, Hawke. But do not worry. I do not intend to steal Isabela away from you."

"It wouldn't be stealing. It would be more like... sharing. Really, if you did do something together, I wouldn't be mad."

He gave her a strange look, but said nothing, so she went on.

"I know Isabela takes other lovers. For her, it's like with sailing – it's in her blood. I'd rather she spend the occasional night with someone else than have her taking off in her ship for god-knows-where. It makes her happy. As long as she comes back to me, that's all I care about."

Hawke went on: "She'd really like me to come along - for both, you know - the sailing and the sex. But I can't really do either. I'm settled here in Kirkwall. I need to stay with my mother; I'm all she has left. And I just... I don't do one-night-stands. I know she'd love me to, but... it's not me."

She sighed. "That was the whole idea, actually, of getting you involved. Somebody we both liked, somebody I would be comfortable with."

He cleared his throat at last, perhaps trying to steer the conversation away from himself. "I hear Varric is ready to volunteer."

"Varric? Oh my god, who told you?" She covered her face with her hands. Everyone in the world knew everything about her business, she just needed to get used to that.

He smiled just a little. "He did."

"Bela asked him. She asked me first, I said it was fine. It's not exactly what I had in mind, though."

"Why not?"

"Oh, he's lovely, and one of my best friends, but he will undoubtedly make it into a story he tells everyone in the world. And I just don't see it being a regular thing, you know, more of a one-off. And then forever after that he'll have seen me naked, and I'll have seen him naked, and it's just going to be strange."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "And it wouldn't be strange with me?"

She blushed a little. "That's different." Fuck, Isabela was right, I do turn into a 13-year-old girl around him. "With you it wouldn't be strange at all. It would just be... nice."

Nice? Fuck.

Rapidly she attempted to change the subject. "So, uh, what did he say, Fenris, was he freaked out? Confused? Interested?"

"It was a kind of courtesy. He wanted to know where I stood on the matter."

"Oh," she said.

Fenris passed her on the stairs, to let her out of the front door.

Maker, he was just so beautiful. There was no other word for it. It was positively unfair. His profile was so perfect; he could have been carved out of marble. He brought such refinement to every little motion, particularly his hands. His hands just killed her, those long graceful fingers, and the way they fluttered when he was agitated and trying to hide it. Even in the dim light of the dusty mansion, there was a silvery glint to his hair and to the elegant lines of his lyrium tattoos, so that they seemed to glow. Was she a terrible person for admiring something that caused him so much pain? She wanted to travel those white channels with her tongue, follow them everywhere. All along those sinewy muscles, his lean frame, right up that delicate neck, to his delicious lips.

At the door, he stopped short in the middle of wrestling with the rusting locks.

"Hawke," he said, keeping his back to her. His hands were in fists at his side.

"Yes?"

"All right. I will do this."

"What?"

"The watching. I can do that much. That much, and no more."

"Really?" Hawke tried valiantly to conceal just how thrilled she was, for fear of scaring him off. Would he really agree to this?

"On one condition," he said firmly.

"Whatever you want!" she squealed. Isabela would be so happy.

He turned around. "It has to be now. Tonight."

"But-"

"Before I change my mind."

She thought wildly. Tonight? Now?

"Okay. Okay. Give me an hour or two, okay? I just have to find Bela and get her over here."

He nodded, sharply, and reached out to tweak the locks open.

Running at top speed to the docks, all Marian could think was: Maker, I hope she hasn't shipped out. Please be there, Isabela. Please.