Author Note: Thank you for the wonderful reviews and the favorites. : ) I would love more input. The time frame for the next couple chapters is between Act 2 and 3 in that mysterious time frame.
Time was an odd thing, a very odd thing. At moments it seemed like it stood still, and others she couldn't even comprehend the movement of time as it rushed by her. It had been a year since Fenris had left, a year since that night and she could remember it like it was yesterday. She remembered the passion, how much it had seemed perfect to her, everything she had wanted. It was as if all their tension had built up and spilled over because of those slavers, because of Hadriana and she didn't regret that. She did regret the pain she seemed to have given him. She had awoken and wondered if her touch had bothered the lyrium in his veins, but it wasn't that at all, no it was something much deeper than anything she could touch. She had glimpsed at the surface of his memories many times, in the way he spoke about certain things, or the way his eyes lingered on items that shouldn't mean anything to a freed Tevinter slave. His hatred of the alienages itself stemmed from his subconscious, or so the books on the mind seemed to tell her. She had too much time on her hands, and she was devouring the books in her library because of it. Everything she did reminded her of him though, no matter what she was haunted by the elf that had stolen her heart and fled off into the night, ignoring her cries that she could help him. He was truly the only person that had ever refused her help.
The Champion of Kirkwall was a horrible title to have as she thought on it. It meant she was just a puppet for the nobles. She had no true power, she was just a symbol for them to use to their benefit in whatever disputes she had. She couldn't help others like she had used to. She wanted to help the mages but if she did anything openly it risked Bethany's life. She had become two separate entities. She was Lady Hawke to the nobles, a woman who had grown her hair out and wore elegant clothing to all of the elegant events, and then she was the Champion of Kirkwall. She wore her old assassin's clothes with her hood drawn up and she continued to keep the streets clean as she had before but even then people noticed her and fled until she wasn't around. She sounded like some kind of hero, but she wasn't. She had grown too cold and hard for that, the more years that passed the more she withdrew into herself to hide behind these names. Was there even just a Hawke anymore? Her friends called her Hawke still, just that one word… but she wasn't the same person they had followed. She was cruel and calculating now. She wanted nothing more than to throw Meredith off of the Viscount's seat and rule herself. She wanted to overthrow all this hatred in this city. She wanted a peace that would never come, and she was deluding herself thinking that she could bring it to the city if she sat on the throne. She didn't even want that, she just wanted one title instead of these multitude that surrounded her now. She wished she had never come to combat with the Arishok, she wished she could have ended that peacefully. She wished her mother had never of had to die because she wasn't clever enough to catch that man before he… She sighed, closing her eyes as Orana tightened her curls. It was not good to dwell on these things.
"Lady Hawke if you do not sit still I will never be able to fix your hair correctly…" Hawke had laughed at that. She truly didn't want to go tonight, and it pained her to sit here and be dolled up like she was a child's toy. She didn't dislike Orana for this, it was just that it reminded her so much of her mother fussing over her. Her mother had been the one before she died to do her hair and her makeup… to help her get stuffed into all those dresses her mother had bought her when she had allowed her the option of getting her womanly gowns.
"I am sorry, I truly am… You are an angel to be patient enough to help me look presentable… and Hawke is my name. You can call me just Hawke." She had said this to the girl thousands of times, just Hawke. Not Serah Hawke, or Mistress Hawke, or Messera, or anything… she was just Hawke here. She didn't blame the girl though; she had turned up on her doorstep a few days after Fenris had left. She remembered the girl from the caves, she was alone, and she needed help so she took her in kindly. She gave her work and plenty to live off of. She barely gave her work actually, Orana was just there to help her look a Queen on night's like this, and to keep her company on the nights she would have spent with Fenris, talking. Orana wasn't as good of a talker though, slavery had left her something of a pretty shell. She was sweet and said all the right things, but it seemed like a script but it was at least better than Bodhan who had more secrets than he did whiskers.
She had for the most part shut herself off to the world after her mother's death and that is the true reason why she relied on the elf girl so much. She never had to leave the house because of Orana and Bodhan, they brought the food she needed, and therefore she was allowed to wallow in her despair. Her friends had tried to no avail to shake her from this isolation, and the letters that piled on her desk asking for requests had the same effect. She had only stirred at the rousing of the Arishok, and that was all Isabella's fault. Isabella had turned on her, and because of that she had to kill the Arishok as there was no appeasement but the item Isabella had knocked her out for and run off. After she had killed the Arishok she was something to be paraded around, a hero but a broken one. She had started to sneak out to the Hanged man, but even then it was something she felt forced to do. It was something she hated to do as she could still remember the pools of blood and where exactly they were placed. The Hanged Man seemed drab now to her without Isabella, and being there reminded her of that wretch. She had never been betrayed before and it still burned her blood. It felt like all she knew was sorrow and hate. She hated the nobles that surrounded her, and she was filled with sorrow over those she lost. Anders had fed off of this hate and sorrow. He had been the one who had pushed past Bodhan though he held the command that no one was to see her. He had been the one who she had sobbed to until she felt she couldn't shed another tear if she wanted to. She had never allowed another to see her cry except Bethany, she would rather have had Bethany than Anders but that was impossible. She remembered collapsing in his arms and begging him not to leave her, she didn't want to be alone in this huge house… He knew her weaknesses and that was how he had come to be the only one she allowed past her cold demeanor now, though even he was not let in like Fenris had been. The woman Fenris had left was seemed to be buried beneath layers of stone. It was even now Anders who waited downstairs for her to take her to another event thrown by a noble whose name escaped her.
It had been a year, a whole year. A whole year and there had been no progress. He just felt more hateful and more alone than ever. He had such a good thing going in Kirkwall, he could have stayed there and made a life like Hawke had told him to. It seemed too idealistic, it wouldn't be that easy, he needed to get rid of Danarius, he needed to rid himself of Danarius if he wanted a life. Perhaps Hawke was okay with protecting him, but it shouldn't be that way. He should be protecting her, shielding her. He had made that promise to her, that he would protect her but now what was he doing? He had told himself weeks ago he was going to return and beg her forgiveness but all he had done was aimlessly wandering the wounded coast. He finally got the nerve to return to the city and he stood outside of her door like some stray. He knocked and Bodhan had answered, chatting amicably.
"Lady Hawke is upstairs getting ready but Anders is down in the main room. I am sure she will be down shortly, they are set to leave soon. Did you enjoy your time away? Lady Hawke won't truly talk about it."
There was a lot in what Bodhan said that Fenris had to process. Anders was downstairs waiting for Hawke. Hawke was now being called Lady Hawke... Hawke was refusing to talk about him. He narrowed his eyes, he was even more of a fool to come back here to her, she obviously had replaced him with Anders. "It was fine, Bodhan."
"Well that is good. Everyone needs a vacation."
Fenris felt like attacking Anders when he came into view. Anders had his back to Fenris and hadn't noticed he had come in. He was staring up at the balcony expectantly for Hawke to emerge he assumed. He hated Anders, how he seemed to have cleaned up for Hawke. How he stood there in a nice dress robe that Hawke had probably bought for him. He hated Anders more and more every time he was around the abomination.
"So what is the occasion?" Anders seemed to jump slightly before looking at him. The look Anders had was something between hatred and a slight smugness. Maybe that was how people looked when they saw a ghost.
"She has a party to go to so she invited me as her guest like she usually does." Fenris felt like Anders was heaping more onto it than there was to be said but he didn't really question it. He had been gone for a year, what did he know? Maybe he had been wrong all along and Hawke had loved Anders since she first met him. Hawke had known Anders longer than she had known him after all. "So why did you come back, elf? There really isn't anything here for you."
He had to admit it seemed true that nothing was left for him here, but even if Hawke didn't need him nor want him he needed her. "I have that mansion if you don't remember… I also was quite partial to the others."
Anders snorted. "Whatever you say." Anders had turned away from him, back to the position he was originally in but now with his arms crossed over his chest. What exactly was Fenris here for anyways? It was obvious that Hawke had moved on. Maybe he just wanted to see her one last time.
He heard fussing upstairs as the door opened. Some woman, whose voice he didn't recognize, was telling Hawke that she wasn't done, and then he heard her laughter. It seemed to have less of a ring to it, it seemed much colder. "I do not want to wear that. You'll have me getting robbed. How about you keep those? I do not even like them that much."
"I can't take these… they are like… three month's wages."
"Well then call it a bonus." He saw her emerge at the balcony and he didn't expect what he saw at all. She had grown that raven black hair out so that it spilled down to her shoulder blades in soft curls with part of it braided back away from her face. Her lips held the same shade of red of the tight dress she wore. The bodice enhanced womanly assets while the dress' bottom flowed to accentuate her curves. She looked like a flame flickering above him, a fragile flame dancing just out of his reach. He remembered how every inch of her milky skin had looked, how she seemed like such a smaller person under him than she was on the battlefield. It struck him once more how he forgot how feminine she was when she wasn't leading him from job to job. Even when she wore her assassin's gear, the way it seemed like just a thin layer of clothing held taunt over her, he forgot. She was a different person then, she was a leader… now… now she was this Lady Hawke Bodhan had said was getting ready. She did not smile at Anders, she merely took him in before coming down the stairs. There was coldness in her eyes as she looked at Anders as he smiled up at her. A weak smile was playing on her rogue lips, a response to his smile but not the warm smiles she used to give. He couldn't understand why she was so cold, was he wrong in his assumption that there was something between them or was this something else? It was then Hawke turned her attention to him and that smile seemed to stay plastered onto her face.
"I didn't expect you here today, or I would have put off my plans for the night to welcome you back. Did you find everything you were looking for?" She came to stand next to Anders and that pained him. He seemed to have guessed right that Anders was his replacement. Her eyes didn't linger on Fenris' face though as they once had, they looked to his arm where her red sash with her crest on it rested around his arm. He felt flushed as she saw that, like it had been a mistake to cherish it. It seemed a weakness before this cold woman clad in red. He was wrong to say she looked like a flame; she looked more like a pale statue clad in flowing silks that just showed her hardness more.
"No." He said it abruptly and surely, he said it as hard as the woman before him. "I should have informed you I was coming. Have fun tonight, Lady Hawke." He seemed to spit the last words. She was mocking him with the way she stood there, with her question. He saw straight through her, she was rubbing salt in his wounds and why shouldn't she? He had left and hadn't told her he would return, he truly didn't expect to so why was he angry? He didn't know what he expected, maybe for her to fly into his arms… but even that was a dream. Hawke had never been one to land on someone's shoulder and coo into their ear, she just constantly circled nearby waiting. Fenris had nipped at her too much with her teeth bared to have expected her to be waiting for him, here, alone. He needed a drink.