The sun was beginning to set, but Hawke still hadn't left her bed. "I'm sorry Hawke, I can't". Fenris' words still echoed in her mind, mocking her. It had been the most perfect night, better than she could have ever imagined. His touches had been sweet and gentle, and his words reassuring and warm. Falling asleep together and being held by him had been bliss. All of it had fallen apart when she had woken up to him preparing to leave.

Hawke thought she had been reading Fenris' intentions loud and clear, but it seemed she had been receiving mixed signals. Orianna knocked on the door again; Hawke had lost count. "Mistress Hawke, I've left some food by the door for you." She had no intentions of getting it, but appreciated the offer. Clea had convinced herself that if she thought about it long enough, she would find an answer. So far, all she had was that he had needed to let off some steam and she had taken advantage of him when he was vulnerable. So many times she had wanted to erase what happened, but yet she didn't want to let go of the small hope that he had meant everything he had said and done.

It had taken about six months and Hawke was finally back to completing her optimum amount of missions a week. She hadn't asked the white-haired elf to join the group on any of them yet; she had decided to leave it up to him to make the first move. After all, she had told herself, it was him who had rejected her. Clea had internally kicked herself for leaving herself so open to him, but that frustration at herself often gave way to anger at him for not clarifying his lack of feeling sooner. Fenris' skill in the party was missed, but no one mentioned it. Hawke had the suspicion that Varric had found out and warned everyone else not to mention it.

After a long day of trying to quell the tensions of the Qunari and the people of Kirkwall, she headed to the Hanged Man to see Varric. That morning, Bodhan had brought up a letter from Varric requesting aid, something involving his brother. Clea couldn't care less about that back-stabbing dwarf, but she would do anything for her trusty Varric.

Clea bid farewell to Anders and Merril, but she felt the presence of Isabella still behind her, likely headed to the same location. As of late, it seemed that the rest of her crew had appeared distant and distracted. She knew they had their own lives, but it had seemed much more noticeable. Isabella sped up to match her stride. "Can I buy you drink, Hawke."

"Sure, but I'm looking for Varric specifically."

"Fine with me," Isabella answered matter-of-factly. Clea could sense that the silence as they walked made Isabella feel uncomfortable. "So… you and the elf…"

Clea stiffened. "What about Merril?"

"Hawke, you know who I mean," she chided.

Hawke kept her silence as they entered the tavern. She knew she would talk about it at some point to someone, but it wasn't the time or the person. Once she stepped in, she froze. His white hair stood out first, then it was his deep voice that she heard from the other side of the room. He was sitting with her dwarf. She felt a hand on her arm, then a voice in her ear, "Come on Hawke, how about that drink I owe you?" Her body felt numb, but soon she was sitting at the bar.

It sounded like Isabella was babbling about her dream ship, but Hawke was only half paying attention. After what seemed like far too long, she saw the white-haired elf leave. "Come on, Sweet Thing. Let's go chat with Varric." She knew seeing the elf again would affect her, but not as badly as it was. Clea set down her empty mug and followed.

Another six months had passed, and Clea was finally able to see the elf and not freeze up. He still had not joined in on any missions, but she sent him coin monthly anyway. So much had continued to change in the group, and Hawke could shake the feeling of dread. The city felt like it was on the verge of exploding, figuratively or literally.

It went without saying, but the elf had stopped attending his reading lessons, and the book remained in Hawke's library. She started at it on the table, collecting dust, while she sipped her wine. When she looked at the clock, she furrowed her brow. Her mother should have been home by now. She finished her glass of wine and decided to head to bed early.

The next morning, as she was preparing to leave, Bodhan stopped her. "Pardon Mistress, but your mother has yet to return."

Hawke felt her heart skip a beat. "When did she leave?"

"I'm… I'm not sure, ma'am. And these lilies were left for her."

Another skipped beat. "Oh no," she breathed. Without another word, she left the mansion. First she would check Gamlin's, then gather a party she knew she could trust.

Gamlin hadn't seen her in days, and Hawke realized that with the high tensions, she had kept late hours and hasn't been the most observant when it came to her mother. Back in the mansion, she planed her approach. She had sent word for Avaline and Varric to join her, two she knew she could trust. She hadn't decided on third, but thought it might not be necessary.

"It can't be him, it can't be him," she whispered to herself, pacing the floor in the entry. She prayed to anyone who would listen that it wasn't the murderer who had been attacking the women of Kirkwall.

Clea stopped her pacing at a knock on the door. Before she or Bodhan could answer the door, it opened and Aveline appeared. She wore a very concerned expression. "Hawke, I got here as soon as I could. I'm so sorry." Her face took on a stern expression as she put a hand on Clea's shoulder and waited for eye contact. "We will find her."

Hawke nodded and looked away. "Any idea where Varric is?"

"He should arrive soon. We can go over the plan when he arrives." She let out a deep breath, "Assuming there is a plan."

"There is. I know it's dark, but I'm hoping it will make him easier to find."

"Him?"

In answer, Hawke pointed to the lilies not far from them. She heard Aveline suck in a breath.

"Hawke, you don't think it's him, do you?"

"It fits his MO, but I'm hoping it's a coincidence."

There was another knock at the door and it slowly opened. Hawke began to smile slightly at the sight of Varric in the doorway, but her face fell when she saw the elf. The dwarf's hands went up in a surrender gesture, "Before you say anything Hawke, we were playing wicked grace when I got word and he begged to come with me." Clea saw the elf wince at the word "begged" and she inwardly chuckled.

The elf continued to stand in the doorway and Hawke wouldn't let her eyes linger on him. "Fine. Fenris can stay." In that moment, Clea realized she had been unconsciously refusing to speak his name since that night a year ago.