Bethany had woken Anders after an hour as promised and he walked over to Hawke and Fenris, who sat together, talking quietly. As he neared, he noticed they were holding hands, obviously having made up, or at least come to an understanding. He took a deep breath, anger coiling tightly in his stomach at Hawke's naivety and Fenris's ability to manipulate him.
"Anders! Have a good sleep?" a more lucid Hawke asked him as he crouched down and rifled through his pack.
"Not too bad," Anders replied dispassionately, taking out several bunches of herbs and a few small phials. "Fenris," he said without looking at the elf. "Would you excuse us? I need to prepare some medicine."
"You do not need me to leave in order to prepare medicine," Fenris replied tightly.
"I'm going to need Fletcher's help," Anders said, and the fact he used Hawke's first name was not lost on Fenris. "Wouldn't want you to feel left out or anything."
"I will take my chances," answered Fenris, moving closer to Hawke in a clearly possessive display.
Hawke sighed and closed his eyes. "Will you two give it a rest just for one night?" he asked wearily. "For my sake?"
Both men fell silent, and had the grace to look mildly ashamed.
"They're still bickering," Bethany said to Varric as they stood watching the exchange a short distance away. "I don't want Fletcher worrying about them. It'll do nothing to help his recovery."
"I know just what they need," proclaimed Varric, patting his story book.
"Not that story," Bethany warned.
"Oh, all right," sighed Varric. "You never let me have any fun," he chided good-naturedly.
"You'll get more fun than you bargained for if they hear that one. Particularly the bit where Guardsman Fenris puts manacles on Anders, who resists arrest…"
Varric chuckled. "You could be right, Sunshine; perhaps they're not quite ready for that one, yet. I do have that other one where the elf goes to the clinic."
"You mean the one with the cats?"
"Uh-huh."
"I think that might work," she said brightly. "Fletcher will like it, anyway, and hopefully they won't end up killing each other afterwards. It might cheer Fenris up a bit, too."
"Hey, Daisy!" Varric called over to Merrill, who was making some tea. "Care to hear a story?"
She glanced over at them, looking worried. "Ooh, I don't know…is it scary?"
"Only if fluffy kittens scare you," answered Varric.
Merrill's face lit up and she joined Varric and Bethany. "I'm not scared of cats. I like them. They're cute."
"Then we're all winners," declared Varric, who led the two ladies over to the others.
"Gather round, children," he told the group, and he, Bethany and Merrill sat upon the ground in front of the three men. "Uncle Varric's going to tell you a story."
"A story?" asked Fenris, an eyebrow rising sharply as he glanced furtively at Merrill and Bethany. "I have heard about your…stories. Is this going to be lewd?"
"Of course not," Varric reassured him smoothly, understanding his concerns. "You really think I'd read a lewd story in front of Sunshine with her big brother here?"
"Funny, that," Bethany remarked coolly. "I just had to twist your arm to convince you not-"
"Anyway," Varric interrupted with a stern glance at Bethany, before turning back to Fenris. "There's a lot more than just smut in my repertoire, I'll have you know."
Fenris nodded. "In that case, I meant no offence, Dwarf."
"Well, good." Varric cleared his throat and opened his book, taking a moment to find the right page. "Ah, here we are. Are you all listening? Blondie?"
Anders looked up from his mortar and pestle for a moment before returning to his task. "I'm listening."
"Once upon a time, there was a good and kindly mage named Blondie," Varric began, noting with satisfaction that Anders looked up again. "He gave all of his spare time to treat the sick, the injured and the infirm, and asked for not a copper in return. But, not only did he care for the residents of Darktown, he also took in numerous stray cats that had no homes, and were lonely and sad."
"Aw, poor kitties," said Merrill dejectedly as Anders's hand stilled on the pestle.
"But they weren't poor, Daisy: they were the happiest kitties in all of Thedas, for Blondie cared for them as he would his own children," Varric went on, hearing a quiet snigger from Anders. "Those cats loved that man, and he loved them ten times back in return. At night, when Blondie closed the clinic, his feline friends would snuggle up to him, and they'd keep each other warm."
A quiet groan was heard from Hawke and he glanced at Fenris, whose nose had wrinkled in disgust.
"But, Daisy," Varric said to the rapt mage, "their happiness was not to last. One day, the clinic was visited by one of the city guards, who was conducting a health inspection on behalf of the Viscount."
"And would that guard happen to be named Fenris?" the warrior elf asked in a flat tone.
"You know what, Elf? By coincidence, he was!" Varric chirped.
"You should understand, Dwarf, that I do not like cats at all," Fenris informed him.
"Well, they probably wouldn't like you, either," sniped Anders.
Varric glanced at Bethany and they both laughed. "Well, that makes the story even more authentic, then! Anyway," he resumed, "upon seeing the cats in the clinic, the guardsman, who was named Fenris, don't you know, declared them a health hazard, and ordered Blondie to get rid of them, or else the clinic would be closed forever."
"Oh, boo, Fenris!" Merrill exclaimed, poking her tongue out at him.
"What? This is a story!" Fenris rejoined incredulously. "Do you even know what that means? It means it is fabricated!" With a glance to his left, he noticed that Hawke was laughing softly, apparently not in pain, and he took a deep breath, deciding that he would make the sacrifice of listening to this drivel for Hawke's sake.
Ignoring them, Varric continued. "Blondie tried to appeal to Guardsman Fenris's better nature, and introduced him to the cats. They all had names…there was a tubby one with messy brown fur named Hawke…"
"Cheeky git," Hawke muttered, hearing quiet snickering from both sides of him. Glancing quickly to his right, he barely caught the remnants of a smile on Fenris's lips. "Are you mixing that, or what?" he asked Anders, who was no longer paying any attention to his medicine.
"Yes…" Anders replied absently, and began to pound the contents of the mortar, although his eyes remained on Varric.
"And was there also a short-arsed, big-nosed cat that was bald and furry at the same time?" Hawke asked Varric with a charming smile.
"Can't say there was, Hawke," Varric sniffed, and once again cleared his throat. "And there was a very pretty one that looked after all the other cats, and everyone who ever met her adored her. Her name was Sunshine." Bethany shook her head and giggled.
"Then, there was a gingery-blond tomcat that was a little scrawny, but was very kind…"
"How can cats be kind?" demanded Fenris.
"Well, this cat was. His name was Blondie."
"Was there one called Merrill?" asked the Dalish mage hopefully.
"Well, sure there was, Daisy! She was also a very pretty cat, and she loved to play with the others. She also collected shiny things."
Merrill laughed delightedly, too happy to notice Fenris scowl and roll his eyes.
"The cats gathered around Fenris, rubbing their heads against his legs, wanting to make friends with him, but the wicked guardsman was having none of it. Only one of the cats didn't approach him: a slender white tomcat with green eyes that sat off on his own, watching silently. Then, as their eyes met, the tomcat turned and sauntered off, not even deeming the guard worthy of his time."
"A slender, white-haired tomcat with green eyes?" scoffed Fenris, shaking his head. "And I wonder what his name was?"
"Ooh! I know! I know!" squealed Merrill excitedly.
"Shh, Daisy!" intoned Varric. "Don't spoil it for everyone."
"No, Merrill, please don't spoil it for us," Hawke chortled. "I really have no idea who he's talking about, I'm sure."
"Ha! I'm cleverer than you!" Merrill teased. "I'm not saying a word."
"Never mind all that!" interrupted Anders, almost spilling his mixture. "What happened to the cats?"
"Give me that!" Hawke ordered, snatching the mortar and pestle from him, and began grinding his own medicine with what little strength he had.
Varric shook his head sadly for effect. "Guardsman Fenris served Blondie with some papers, ordering him to have the cats gone by the following day, or they'd be…" He lowered his voice to a whisper, "Put down. Blondie looked down upon his purring friends – his only friends in the world – and fell to his knees, sobbing…"
"Oh, come on!" Anders protested with a laugh.
Fenris folded his arms. "So, naturally, I am the villain?"
"No! You're no villain, Elf," replied Varric. "You're just doing your job. Anyway, Blondie vowed that no guard with a stick up his ass was gonna get his hands on his little pals. The next morning, he took his cats down into the bowels of the undercity, through secret tunnels used to help apostates escape…"
"Hey! How do you know about that?" demanded Anders.
"Blondie…this is me we're talking about, remember? Anyway, he wrapped his little friends up in blankets, gave them a treat and told them to stay put. When he arrived back at the clinic, Guardsman Fenris had returned with a bunch of other guards. 'Tear this place apart!' he ordered them gruffly," he related, giving his best impersonation of Fenris.
"Oh, Fenris, how could you?" Merrill implored.
"Yes, Fenris, how could you?" Hawke joined in with a smirk. Speechless, Fenris clapped a hand over his eyes and shook his head.
"And what happened then?" prompted Anders eagerly.
"Well, Blondie, the guards split up and Guardsman Fenris went down into the bowels of Darktown, eventually finding a concealed entrance to a tunnel. Intrigued, the elf lit a torch, entered and cautiously made his way along, a satisfied grin spreading across his chops when he heard plaintive mewling sounds from up ahead."
"Oh, no!" gasped Merrill, covering her mouth with her hands.
"He pressed on, eventually finding a shivering bundle of fur and blankets. 'Ah, I have you now!' he announced triumphantly, unsheathing his sword." Varric paused dramatically and took a long pull from his waterskin.
"Varric!" Merrill and Anders exclaimed.
Wiping his mouth, Varric cleared his throat and continued. "Well, something funny happened, then. As he bent over them, intending to viciously slay them, he noticed that to his side sat the white tomcat he'd seen the night before. Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them. As he glanced down at the poor creatures with their huge, pleading eyes and cute little noses, his heart melted, and, with a sigh, he turned and walked away. Before he left, though, something told him to turn back. He did so, and once again his eyes met the white-haired cat, who gave him an approving look…"
"An…a-approving…?" Hawke clutched at his belly, snorting with laughter. "Anders! Make it stop! It hurts!"
"So, cats can be approving as well as kind?" Fenris queried acerbically.
"Shh! I haven't finished yet!" Varric scolded them. "Guardsman Fenris, having new-found respect for the cats, nodded once to the white-haired tomcat, who nodded back in acknowledgement. Then, they turned and went their separate ways."
"And…Anders!" wailed Hawke. "Maker's balls! My stomach! The c-cat…nodded!"
"Stop making him laugh, Varric!" chuckled Anders.
Fenris shook his head, the sight of Hawke laughing uncontrollably causing the edges of his mouth to upturn slightly. "It would appear I have sorely underestimated the feline species. Not only are they capable of kindness and approval, they can also nod in acknowledgement."
"S-stop it!" Hawke spluttered, leaning against Fenris to prevent himself from sliding onto his back. "Mercy, Fen, please!"
"Do you wanna hear the end of the story, or not?" demanded Varric, feigning impatience.
"Yes! Shut up, you lot!" Merrill commanded.
"Thank you, Daisy. Well, Guardsman Fenris went back to his men and called off the search, stating that Blondie must have gotten rid of them already. Blondie realised he wasn't telling the truth, though, because before Guardsman Fenris left, Blondie mouthed 'thank you' to him.
"After that, Guardsman Fenris became a regular visitor to the clinic, always claiming to have some kind of minor illness or whatever. Now and again, he brought little toys and treats for the cats, professing to have 'found' them. One day, he asked Blondie where the white-haired tomcat with green eyes was. Blondie's face fell, and he said that the only cat there'd ever been matching that description was the first cat he'd seen at the clinic…"
He paused and sighed theatrically. "…That had sadly passed away."
"When?" gasped Merrill, her eyes brimming with tears.
Varric fixed her with an intense look. "A year before."
"Oh!" exclaimed Merrill, dabbing at her eyes. "So, he-he was watching over them?"
"M-Maker!" howled Hawke, grabbing Anders's robe. "P-put me to s-sleep! Please!"
"I can't!" Anders apologised, his own body racked with laughter. "I can't concentrate!"
"That was beautiful, Varric," Merrill stated, her voice trembling. "Thank you."
"That was b-bloody awful!" choked out Hawke.
"Truly," agreed Fenris, desperately trying not to laugh himself.
Bethany and Varric exchanged smiles, and Varric turned to a different page. "Another?"
~o~O~o~
After Varric had told a couple more stories – but not that story - Anders finally called a halt when Hawke warned that he would have an 'accident' if he laughed one more time. The group, visibly more relaxed, set about making a late supper, and even Fenris temporarily left Hawke's side to assist, leaving Anders to finish off a huge batch of medicine, which simmered in a cauldron over the fire.
As Merrill and Bethany tidied away, Varric and Fenris walked over to Hawke and Anders, each carrying two bowls of skilly* and dumplings, as well as a large hunk of bread apiece.
Fenris placed his two bowls next to Hawke and began to tear the bread, but Anders held a hand up to stop him. "Sorry. Hawke can't have anything to eat for now."
"Oh," murmured Fenris with an apologetic look at Hawke, and passed Hawke's share to the other two, who proceeded to split it three ways.
"Bastards," Hawke grumbled along with his stomach. "So when can I eat?"
"We'll have to see how you go during the night," Anders answered, passing Hawke a tin mug. "Here, drink this."
Hawke frowned at the contents of the mug and beckoned Fenris closer. "Remember this?" he asked the elf, showing him the green-brown slop within.
"My medicine," Fenris recalled, grimacing as he sniffed at it.
"This is a concentrated version of that, and it has liquorice in it, which I hate," he said morosely. "Plus, I have to take it every two hours."
"You have my sympathy," Fenris commiserated with an impish glint in his eye. "You had better drink your sludge before it gets cold," he whispered, repeating Hawke's teasing directions when treating Fenris's foot.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" bleated Hawke as the two ladies arrived and sat down with their meals.
"Do what he says, Hawke," Anders directed. "You have another dose to take straight after."
"Another?" Hawke exclaimed, pouting as he brought the mug to his lips. "I hate you all." He took a deep breath, and, preferring not to prolong the experience, downed the medicine in one. With a convulsive shudder, he slammed the mug down next to Anders, his eyes streaming as it was promptly re-filled.
The second mug seemed to have a soporific effect on Hawke, and he started to doze as the others finished their supper. "That'll be the hops," Anders quietly explained, standing up. "I was worried I'd put too much in, but that seems about right. Well, I'm going to have another kip; I need to be up again in a couple of hours."
"I…could administer the medicine," offered Fenris with a shrug. "I wake frequently during the night. If you tell me the required dosage…"
Anders glanced down at the elf and sighed, reluctant to relinquish his position as Most Important And Indispensable Friend To Hawke.
"Maegz zense," Hawke maundered drowsily. "You zhould ge'zmuch ress z'pozz'ble, Andzz. You're the moze 'mportant one here."
Suitably flattered, warmth spread through Anders's chest, and he nodded slowly. "All right," he agreed after a pause, knowing that, of all people, Fenris would not forget to administer Hawke's medicine. He went into his pack and took out a candle, which he notched several times with a small knife, and passed it to Fenris. "Each mark represents roughly an hour. In two hours' time, he'll need another two doses. It'll be more palatable for him if it's warmed up."
Fenris nodded and walked over to the fire, lighting the candle.
"After another two hours, give him a single dose," Anders went on. "You can start giving him sips of water, then; as much as he can manage. Wake me up in time for the dose after that; I'll need to check his temperature."
"Very well," answered Fenris.
"This medicine will have a similar effect as the one you took," Anders told the elf. "He's going to feel like crap during the night, but he will improve, hopefully by tomorrow. He may also perspire a lot; that's normal. If he gets chills, make him some tea with this." He passed Fenris a small pouch containing crushed, dried flowers. "That's elderflower and chamomile. Don't give him anything to eat. If you're in doubt at all, wake me up. Don't let him tell you he's a healer and he knows best; if you're in doubt, call me."
"Understood."
"See you all in the morning, then. 'Night," Anders said to the group and went behind a rock to relieve himself before turning in.
"Goodnight," called Bethany along with the others, and she crouched down next to her brother, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Sleep well, Fletcher." She then stood and walked over to Fenris, and also kissed him softly on the cheek. "Goodnight, Fenris. I know you'll take good care of him."
"Yes…goodnight…Bethany," he mumbled awkwardly with a polite smile.
"Hey! Where's mine?" Varric complained.
"You've had plenty," Bethany answered, walking away. "Merrill, would you care to share our fire?"
"Oh, yes," replied Merrill, realising that was a cue to leave the two men alone. She looked over at Fenris, having no intention of kissing him, but wondering how to say goodnight in a polite way. Fenris nodded curtly at her, and she nodded back, glad for that problem to be solved. She then went over to Bethany and Varric, where she persuaded the dwarf to tell her yet another story.
Fenris sat down next to Hawke, who appeared to have nodded off. With a glance around to make sure no one was watching, he also kissed Hawke on the cheek. "Goodnight, Fletcher," he said softly, and laid his head against Hawke's shoulder.
"'Zat my elven pillow?" Hawke mumbled, snuggling closer.
"Must you?" Fenris groused, not altogether convincingly.
"Yesss…musssst…" drawled Hawke, Fenris's quiet snort the last thing he heard.
~o~O~o~
Fenris awoke some time later, feeling a faint vibrating sensation along his body. He glanced at Hawke, who had his arms wrapped around himself, shivering violently, his teeth chattering.
"F-Fen…" he stuttered.
"Why didn't you wake me?" Fenris reprimanded softly. He placed his hands on Hawke's arms and rubbed them up and down in an attempt to keep him warm. "Wait here," he instructed, and, releasing Fletcher's arms, pushed himself up.
"W-where else am I g-g-going to g-go?" stammered Hawke with his best attempt at a laugh.
"Forgive me. I did not intend to be irreverent," said a concerned Fenris, walking over to the fire, upon which he threw a few of the tree branches that had been collected earlier. He then removed the small pouch that Anders had given him and frowned at it.
"W-what's wrong, F-Fen?" asked Hawke.
"Anders said I should make some tea from this if you have chills, and yet he also said that I am not to give you water until a few hours from now."
"No, it's f-fine," answered Hawke.
"I can prepare this now?" Fenris asked, and Hawke nodded. Fenris looked over at the candle, which he'd placed on top of a small ledge; it indicated that close to two hours had passed. "I should heat up your medicine, first. Or should you have the tea, first?"
"The tea," answered Hawke, who was still trembling but had warmed up a little as the fire grew. "That medicine'll knock me out again."
Fenris, under Hawke's directions, placed the correct amount of dried petals into Hawke's mug and put some water on to boil. "It will not take long," he assured the shivering Hawke, walking over to him.
"We'll m-make a healer of you, yet," Hawke joked as Fenris knelt between Hawke's legs and once again began rubbing his arms.
"Why must you take so much of the medicine?" asked Fenris. "Why is it concentrated? Why has it caused you to tremble in such a way?"
"Well, f-firstly, you're an elf," Hawke explained, his stammer easing as Fenris continued to warm him. "You weigh a lot less than me so a weaker concentration was sufficient. The course I g-gave you was for a generalised infection, which is taken over a longer period of time. With me…well, Anders hasn't said but I think I can guess at what he's treating me for. He's just being cautious, that's all."
He smiled gratefully at Fenris, feeling warmer and much more comfortable. "He's put a few extra things in the medicine to induce a fever, the idea being that any infection is sweated out. That's becoming an outmoded way of thinking, but Anders is going by the book. He does things properly; if they don't work, then he'll resort to more unusual measures."
Fenris nodded seriously, his brows knitting together. "Are you…in danger, still? Tell me the truth."
Hawke sighed. "I think Anders is treating me as if I have peritonitis, as a preventative measure. It can take between one and two days before any symptoms become apparent, so…there's no way of knowing, yet. Listen, Fen; whatever you may think of Anders, there's no better healer in the Free Marches. I'm in the best hands. And I have my trainee healer with me, as well," he added with a grin.
Fenris didn't laugh, and he sighed as his large eyes met Hawke's. With another sigh, he hung his head.
"Fen…can we talk? I mean, would you like to? It might make you feel better."
"No," Fenris replied firmly. "You must concentrate on your recovery. You do not need to be encumbered by anything else."
"But…it'd make me feel better if we talked, as well; I'm…worried about you."
"I…should prepare your tea, first," Fenris said quietly, again standing up. He walked over to the fire, shame burning his face and belly. As much as it vexed Fenris to admit, the abomination had been correct: Fenris had abandoned Hawke, taking off with a thought for no one but himself. Shaking his head as he poured the hot water into the mug, he gave himself a mental slap across the face. Hawke was ill, perhaps seriously ill, and he did not need Fenris feeling sorry for himself. He needed Fenris to be strong.
"You okay there, Fen?" Hawke quietly called over.
Fenris, having made the tea, nodded and walked back over to Hawke, settled down next to him, and passed him the mug.
"Ooh," Hawke shuddered, a chill running through him as he held the hot mug, taking a few sips.
"You are perspiring," Fenris observed, and he leapt up, took the cloth that Anders had used to mop Hawke's brow, and moistened it with cool water. He then wrung it out, folded it and placed it on Hawke's forehead, before once again settling down next to him.
"You'll have to fill in at the clinic sometimes," Hawke said, gazing at the elf with a warm smile. "You have a wonderful bedside manner."
A modest smile crept along Fenris's lips. "I would have no patience for those with minor afflictions," he confessed. "I would tell them to stop feeling sorry for themselves…" He paused and a thoughtful look came over him. Hawke watched him carefully, but said nothing. "…Perhaps…perhaps I should take my own advice."
Hawke remained silent and moved one of his legs aside, allowing Fenris to sit closer to him. "I have not been myself lately," Fenris began, staring at the ground.
"Which is understandable," Hawke answered immediately.
Fenris shrugged. "Is it? Fletcher…I do not often show my feelings, although, with you, I cannot help myself…whether those feelings are good or bad. What I neglect to do, however, is explain myself; to tell you why I yell at you, or why I shut you out."
"Fenris, I understood how you felt," Hawke said softly.
"That does not make it right," answered Fenris. "Perhaps it is an excuse, but, when I was a slave, I was conditioned to stay quiet and keep my feelings hidden…I was not supposed to have feelings."
"But you do," Hawke said. "And sooner or later those feelings have to come out."
"But, sometimes…I cannot control them," Fenris replied in a hushed tone, sadness and longing in his eyes as they met Hawke's.
Hawke sighed and gently stroked Fenris's shoulder. "You're still learning how to do that. I've had twenty-six years to learn how to hide or displace certain feelings, or pass them off with a joke. You remember barely six months of your life as a slave, and, for the three years you've been on the run, you were mostly alone until…how long have we known each other? Almost three months? And all of a sudden you're lumped with a group that mostly consists of mages," he said with a smile. "I'd say you're doing pretty well, considering."
"I have learned one, thing, if nothing else," Fenris replied humbly, touched by Hawke's understanding. "There are good mages…you and your sister, for example. I never imagined those words would ever leave my mouth, yet you have proved me wrong more times than I can enumerate, and I am glad of that."
"And what about Anders? Do you think you'll ever accept him?"
Fenris thought about this for several moments. "We both care for you," he eventually said. "Whatever else I think of him, I would trust him to protect you. Should that ever change, I will rethink my position. For now, though, I will tolerate him for your sake."
Hawke sighed. "I suppose that's the best I can hope for."
"He was correct, however, when he accused me of abandoning you to wallow in self-pity," Fenris said in a bitter tone.
"Fen…"
"No." Fenris touched Hawke's arm to silence him, needing to explain, to honour their relationship with his honesty. "That was completely unacceptable. In doing that, I insulted not only you, but those who accompanied us…everyone who gave up their time and placed themselves at risk for me. I intend to call on each of them in due time to thank them but, for now, I give you my thanks, with every fibre of my being. You have no idea what this means to me, and the thought that you are…ill because of…"
"I'm ill because we were in a fight and I got hurt. It happens," Hawke replied with a firm edge to his voice.
"You are ill because…" Fenris sighed and snorted softly. "…Perhaps." He took Hawke's mug, which was now empty, and stood up, moving over to the fire, on which he placed the cauldron of medicine. He then returned to Hawke and sat next to him. "I need to stop seeing myself as a slave, Fletcher," he said quietly. "Sebastian advised me as much, for my own sake, but I need to do that for your sake, also." He took one of Hawke's hands. "I have a new life, now, and I am fortunate enough that you are part of it. I will do nothing more to jeopardise that."
He moved his other hand up to rest on Hawke's cheek, and Hawke moved his own hand to stroke Fenris's hair. "Until today, Fletcher, part of me refused to believe that you…part of me believed I was unworthy of your…care. I no longer feel that way. Today, you saw the worst of me, and still you accept me. If you are willing, I would…very much like for us to…" He hung his head and shrugged. "I…cannot find the words."
"I…think I know what you mean," Hawke replied, his stomach fluttering, and a frown creased his forehead. "Although…you have not yet seen the worst of me."
"I am beginning to wonder if there is a 'worst of you'," Fenris said, moving closer to Hawke, brushing his lips against the mage's.
Hawke gulped and drew back slightly. "There is. We all have a dark side, Fenris."
Fenris also pulled away and glanced over at the cauldron, from which light steam rose. "Should you wish to confide in me, I will not judge you," Fenris promised, little realising the effect his words had on Hawke.
"I-I know," Hawke whispered, feeling slightly nauseous. "Maybe…"
"I understand. Not now," Fenris interjected. "When you have recovered, we will talk, as soon it is convenient for you to do so. It will do you no good to keep it buried inside."
Hawke nodded slowly, a burning in his gut, and he pulled Fenris close. "I want you to know, Fenris, that you…you mean a lot to me. Whatever happens…I…"
Hawke was silenced as Fenris's lips met his, and Hawke cradled the elf's face, losing himself in Fenris's tender kiss. Fenris gently broke the kiss, and once again took Hawke's hand. "Whatever it is, it will not keep me from you," Fenris vowed, shaking his head determinedly. "Not now." With a broad smile, he stood up and went over to the fire, where he filled Hawke's mug with medicine.
As Hawke watched him, a wave swelled inside of him, and he released a shaky breath, quickly dashing away the tear that slid down his cheek, ready to plaster a grin across his face when Fenris returned to him.
*Skilly: Similar to thin porridge, skilly was a staple among peasants during the Middle Ages. It was made with oatmeal, water and meat/vegetables or whatever else was to hand.