It took Fenris four days to reach Ostwick. The small city was not as far as he initially would have thought. The journey had been without trouble, although it made him nervous to be outside of Kirkwall again on his own. During the years he had been living in Kirkwall, he had never left the city, except for small trips with Hawke to the Wounded Coast, Sundermount or the Bone Pit when Hawke had business there. Being alone after that made him feel extra vulnerable. When he saw other travelers on the road he quickly sought the cover of the vegetation and waited till they had passed before he continued his way. Being forced to hide like this, to have to keep looking over his shoulder, unable to travel to the nearest city without more than the regular concern for bandits, it drove him mad. He was unsure whether he had become completely paranoid by now or that his caution was justified, but with Danarius still alive he would never find rest. He could not allow himself to relax and let his guard down. It could mean the end of his freedom, although this freedom seemed more like an illusion with all the hiding he had to do.

So he walked through Ostwick, searching for the place where Dagmar lived according to Varric, and kept an eye on the people he passed to see if they paid special attention to him. He got the usual stares, but no one seemed to care enough about him to give him more than a second, puzzled look.

Because Ostwick was not large, it was not hard to find the marketplace and the tavern that was localized there. Varric had told him the entrance to Dagmar's house was in an alley behind the tavern.

The sun had almost set. Merchants who had spent their day selling goods had packed up their merchandise and left for their home and a hot meal. Ostwick appeared friendlier and a bit less harsh than Kirkwall. At least this part of the city was well-kept, the doors colored with fresh paint in bright colors, hiding possible signs of decay which Kirkwall showed openly.

Fenris went around the tavern and to the right, into the alley. Ostwick was immediately more similar to Kirkwall. Behind the tavern turned out to be a brothel. A few early customers tried to look inconspicuous while they entered. Filth that had been absent in the market place turned out to have been swept into alleys like this one.

With a look over his shoulder Fenris passed the brothel and knocked on the damaged door that should form the entrance to Dagmar's house. Back to hiring people to aid me. Although, last time that had not worked out so badly. Last time it had brought Hawke to him. He smiled at the memory of that. If only he would be so lucky this time. Perhaps "lucky" is not the right word when it comes to meeting Hawke, though... Maker knew that man had brought a lot of new trouble as well.

The door opened slightly, a dark eye peering through the creak.

"What do you want," a low voice mumbled. The words were spoken so fast they sounded more like "whaddayawan".

"Is this Dagmar?"

"Yeah."

"I... need you to find someone for me."

The door was opened further. The man who appeared in the opening was a dwarf with a round belly, short, brown hair and a full face. And of course a beard that covered the lower half of that face. His small eyes narrowed even more as he studied Fenris. "You got coin?"

"I do."

"Who do you want to find?"

"An elven woman. She is my sister."

"Sister, ey? Is she such a freak as you?"

Fenris clenched his fists and took a deep breath to restrain himself. "I am uncertain what she looks like."

"Ha! Am I supposed to believe that? Your sister and you don't know what she looks like? Well, I suppose all you knife-ears look the same. What's her name?"

"I... don't know her name."

The uninterested look turned annoyed. "Go waste someone else's time, bloody elf." Dagmar intended to slam the door shut, but Fenris jumped forward and prevented the door from closing. "Wait! This is no joke, I... Varric told me to seek you out."

The man's grip on the door loosened. "Varric, you say? And why would that talkative nug humper send a weird elf to me who wants me to find a sister he knows nothing of?"

"I have to find her, but I can't do it by myself. She is probably in Tevinter..."

"Tevinter? Huh! Forget it, elf! I don't want anything to do with that sodding magical country full of those freak magisters, especially not for some freak of an elf who wants me to search for his... his freaking sister. Find someone else, and tell that Varric to sod himself and not send more freaks my way!"

Before Fenris could stop him again, Dagmar smacked the door shut, hitting him in the face. "Venhedis!" He held a hand over his forehead, which had gotten the full blow. Still recovering from the contact with the door, he banged with his fist against the rough wood. The door remained closed and no one answered his calls. When he realized he was drawing attention, Fenris gave up and quickly left the stinking alley.

Now that the sun had set, it had almost turned dark. Fenris rubbed his sore forehead and scanned his surroundings to make sure no one was following him. This was disappointing. Of course he had taken the possibility that some of Varric's connections would refuse to lend aid into account, but it was discouraging nevertheless. He would have to try his luck in Markham, with Pete.

He looked up at the dark sky, where the first stars already twinkled. He could immediately continue his journey, but staying in Ostwick for the night was probably wiser. Wild animals went hunting at night, and it was easy to get off the road in the dark without being aware of it. It would be foolish to risk stepping into a hole and break his ankle or run into a pack of wolves. No, he would sleep here and leave early in the morning.

Fenris turned back to the inn. It would be as good a place as any. The previous evenings he had slept on the road, underneath the stars. Fortunately it had not been cold. Sleeping in the dirt was bad enough.

When he entered the tavern, all eyes went to him. He was used to it. As Dagmar had recognized him as trouble, so did all these people here. The air of it seemed to surround him, clinging to him, warning everyone to keep their distance and not to get involved.

So as soon as the eyes had processed this, they were averted and the conversations continued, albeit a bit louder. While he walked to the bartender, he recognized Fereldan accents in the conversations. As another port city, many Fereldan refugees had fled to Ostwick as well. Hearing that familiar accent here, reminded him of Hawke again. It's good to be away from him.

The bartender had folded his arms across his chest, waiting to hear what that strange elf wanted.

"Do you have a room for rent?"

"Sure, for how long?"

"Only tonight."

"That would be thirty silvers."

Fenris paid the man and ordered a hot meal, which he requested to be delivered to his room. He wanted to be by himself as soon as possible. He would not find company here anyway. People instinctively knew they had to avoid him. Well, the less they care to know, the better. So far he had seen no sign of hunters, but they could be anywhere, lying in wait for him. But they will not get me.

After he had consumed a decent meal in his room, he pulled Hawke's book out of the small bag he carried with him. It was a children's book, with small pictures illustrating the story. Judging from the cover it was about a boy, a girl and a dog. His homework.

Reading was more difficult without Hawke being there to give hints and help with the words he struggled with. Still, he was determined to be able to tell Hawke how the story ended when he got back. The book was rather thin, so it should be possible to finish it in time.

Markham was not far from Ostwick. The journey took only two days, and had been even shorter had Markham not been past the Vimmark Mountains. The bulk of the mountain chain was more to the west, so it could have been worse. Still, it made the travel longer and more difficult.

What made it even more difficult, was the news Fenris heard when he got to his destination in Markham.

"Nobody lives there, you know." A middle-aged woman with blond hair and a kind, innocent face told him as he stared at the building that was supposed to be Pete's residence.

"Did a man named Pete live here?"

"Oh, dear, I'm afraid he left a few weeks ago."

"He left? He moved, you mean?"

"Yes, he moved to a different city, I believe. He hasn't stayed here for very long. Only a year."

"Do you know where he went?"

The woman stared at the markings on his neck and arms and the sword on his back. "Uhm.."

"Please, madam. I need his help. I am not looking for trouble."

She sighed. "I don't know where he moved to. I didn't know him very well. Guy kept to himself mostly. But you could try Devan. He has a store not far from here. I believe he did business with Pete. Just go to the right, then straight ahead."

"Thank you."

So Pete had moved. Varric had already mentioned he never stayed long in one place. Apparently luck wasn't with him in this search, but then again, when had it ever been?

Fenris followed the woman's directions and found himself in front of a store that sold undefined goods. It seemed to sell everything the shopkeeper could come up with.

He was greeted with a welcoming smile.

"Come further, come further! See anything you like, yes?"

"I am not here to shop. I am looking for Pete. A woman told me he has moved and that you could tell me where to."

"Hmm. Pete... I don't know if I remember that name..."

"Don't toy with me. I have no time for games."

"Hey, hey. You just said you are not here to buy something. That means you are not a customer. A customer I treat with respect. An odd elf who is barging in here and demanding answers however..."

Fenris shook his head in annoyance. "How much?"

"Fifty silvers?"

"I'll ask someone else. You cannot be the only one who knew this man."

"Okay, twenty silvers. I'll tell you everything you need to know."

"I only want to know where I can find him. That can't be worth more than a few coins."

The shopkeeper snickered. "You think? You only find Pete when you exactly know where to look."

Fenris turned around and looked around the shop. A pile of old books caught his eye.

"Hey, where are you going?" Devan yelled at him as he walked towards it. "Seventeen silvers and I'll tell you!"

Fenris picked up the book that was lying on top and put it on the counter. "How much for this book?"

"Uh... five silvers."

"I would like to buy this book. That makes me a customer."

Devan stared rather dazed at him before he burst into laughing. "Ha! I like you, elf. Very well. Five silvers and you're a customer."

Fenris paid the shopkeeper and put the book in the bag he was already carrying Hawke's book in. "Where is Pete?"

"Tantervale."

"Tantervale," Fenris repeated. He pulled out the map Varric had given him and unfolded it. "Could you point it out for me?"

Devan shrugged and bowed over the map. "Here," he said after a quick search. "Near the Minanter River."

Fenris closed his eyes for a moment. That is closer to Tevinter than I would like to be. The Silent Planes would still be between the true Tevinter border and Tantervale, but it felt like he would be walking straight into Danarius' arms if he went into that direction."You are certain about this?" he asked.

"I am. Pete told me himself. " Devan," he said, 'it is time for me to move on. See new places"."

"Where in Tantervale would he be? You said you cannot find this man unless you know where he is."

"Well... he didn't have a new address yet when he left. But I'd say he will be in the most crowded part of the city. Makes it easier to blend in."

"It almost sounds like this Pete is on the run."

"What? Nah, it's just... part of who he is. Makes his work easier." Devan bent over the counter to bring his face close to Fenris'. "Considering you want to hire him, I think you understand."

Fenris took a step back. "I didn't say..."

"Come on, I am no idiot. Don't look so startled, I won't go to the guards or anything. Don't like them looking over my shoulder either.."

Not sure he completely understood what the shopkeeper meant, Fenris nodded. "Thank you for the information."

Devan grinned at him in a way that was slightly familiar. "Anything for a customer. Good luck."

"How long will it take me to get to Tantervale?"

"On foot or with a horse?"

"On foot."

"That would be quite a walk. You could follow the old Tevinter road for a while, but eventually you will have to go through rougher terrain to get to Tantervale. I'd say you'll need at least a week to get there. But that's just a guess. Could be less."

Three weeks later Fenris finally found Pete. It took a little more than eight days to reach Tantervale. Every step not only took him closer to Pete and his sister, but to his former master as well. With every step Fenris felt less confident, less certain. More afraid. He was not even certain Pete would be able, or willing, to help him. Perhaps he was risking everything for nothing. But what was his "everything" now then? He was not free as long as he was being hunted. He had no family, no friends, no place to truly call home. He could not build a life like this. He did not know how. His sister was his hope, his chance to remember, to change, become something, someone better. She was the proof of his life before, that he had not been born out of pain, that his existence had not always been defined by it. That he had not always been meant to hurt others and be hurt himself. That he had been and could be more than what Danarius had made him.

And so he did not turn back, even though part of him wanted to. He continued his way to Tantervale, still without any sign of hunters. Once he had reached the city, it had taken him two entire weeks to find Pete. The citizens of Tantervale eyed him suspiciously, even more than the people of Ostwick or Kirkwall, and they were not very inclined to tell him what he wanted to know. But now he was standing in the small, dim hall of Pete's house.

Pete was a man of average height, neither fat nor slim, with short, light brown hair. His face was neither ugly nor handsome. All in all, Pete was a man one would barely notice when one laid eyes on him, and who would easily be forgotten. Fenris envied him for that.

"So...," Pete said slowly, letting the 'o' linger in the air. "What can I do for you?" His voice was soft and calm.

"I need you to find someone for me. An elven woman."

"A woman, ey?" Pete winked. "Do you want me to take care of her as well?"

"What? No. No! She is my sister."

The man chuckled. "Of course. That's what they all say."

"It's... complicated. I need to find her, but I don't know anything of her. Only that she is a servant and probably lives in the Tevinter Imperium."

"Hmm. And that's all? That's not much information."

"I know. That's why I need help. Varric told me you are skilled in tracking people down."

"Ah, Varric. How is that old guy doing? Long time ago I have worked with him."

"He is doing well. Telling stories in Kirkwall."

"Hmm. I think I can help you. But it will cost you. I ain't cheap."

Fenris held up his coin purse. "This is all I possess at the moment."

Pete caught the small bag in his hand and weighed it thoughtfully. "It's a start. But not enough for the time it will require to find your dear "sister"."

"I will send more. You have my word." The memory of the last person he had spoken those words to arose. He could almost feel her black, rotten heart beating against his fingers.

"Your word? And how much is that worth?"

Nothing. "You will find out, won't you? I have paid you for now."

Pete shrugged and leaned with one shoulder against the wall. "Very well. I will keep you informed. Can I send letters somewhere?"

"Yes." I hope I will be able to read them. He gave Pete the address of the mansion.

"Then it seems we have a deal." Pete held out his right hand. Fenris shook it. He was glad when he could pull his hand back from the clammy grasp. Back to hiring help. Let's hope this man is as skilled in what he does as Hawke.

To get back to Kirkwall he now had to cross the Vimmark Mountains, which added three days and a half to a journey that would otherwise take four days. He would return a little sooner than he had thought. Of course he could still try to go to Cumberland and contact Varric's third man, but Varric had said Pete would be his best chance, and he had no more coin left anyway. So for now Pete was his only hope. Fenris would gladly search himself, but he did not know how he could do that without going to Tevinter. He had barely slept during the days he had spent looking for Pete, fearing Danarius would come for him now that he was so close to the Tevinter border. But he had had no trouble with hunters. Not one battle, not one time he had had to run. Fenris almost started to believe again that his master had given up. Almost. He had already made that mistake once, when he had not heard anything for three years. He would not make the same mistake twice. Danarius would come for him one day. It could be tomorrow, or over five years, but he would come. He would not give up. And Fenris would be ready for him. He would not let his guard down, allow nothing to distract him. No distractions.

He stared up at the dark night sky, and the millions of stars that shone in the black darkness. Tomorrow he would reach Kirkwall. One more night underneath the stars. Because there seemed to be no hunters on his tail, he had made a small campfire. The flames danced enthusiastically over the small twigs he had gathered, warming Fenris' shins while he sat with his back against a broad oak tree. He took Hawke's book and looked up the page he had read last. He still had thirteen pages to go; he would not be finished before he got back. For a while he tried to read in the light of the fire, but it was too dark around him and the fire too small to completely light the pages. When his nose almost touched the paper in his attempt to make out the words, he gave up. He almost put the book away, but something stopped him. He leaned back against the tree and brought the pages close to his face again and inhaled. The smell of parchment reminded him of Hawke's study, with all the books against the wall. Parchment and books meant reading lessons. It meant seeing Hawke, being near him without touching, hearing his voice when he gave instructions. If he was writing, he could sometimes even hear him breathe in the silence. Hawke.

What would he do now? How had he spent the evenings they would normally have used for lessons? Was he busy with all the banquets he had been invited to as Champion? Was he dancing at a ball with an admirer? Perhaps he even was with Anders...

Anders wanted Hawke. Fenris had seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at Hawke. Would Hawke return his affections? Would he now lie with Anders? Fenris swallowed as he tried to force away the images his mind produced. Hawke deserved someone who could make him happy. He knew he was not that someone, but he did not believe Anders was qualified either.

Fenris brought the book to his face once again and inhaled the smell. With that smell in his nostrils, it was easy to believe Hawke was here with him. The tree-trunk against his back could be his broad chest. The leaves of a low twig pricking his neck could be his beard. It could be his hand sliding around his waist; his fingers tracing the lines they had once before, going lower and lower.

Fenris inhaled sharply at the feeling of Hawke's hand there. His toes dug into the earth, as if they could function as a way out for the pleasure that filled him so suddenly when they formed a connection with the ground.

Hawke sensed his arousal and increased his pressure and pace, not giving him a chance to recover. It had been almost six months already since they had been together in this way. Six long months with the absence of this wonderful touch.

Hawke.

"Damian."

"Damian." It escaped from the prison of his lips on a deep sigh. I should forget about you. Why is it impossible to do so? Why are you always in my head, in my mind?

"You want me."

I shouldn't.

"But you do. Can't you feel it? I can."

The hand did not let go, did not stop. Hawke did not want to stop. Fenris did not want to stop. It felt so good. He had missed it so much. He missed Hawke. He missed what it had meant to be with someone in that way; to surrender to that other person and just... feel.

His breathing had become rapid, his muscles tense.

Don't...

He arched his back as the pressure built up to a maximum and found its release. His mouth fell open in a moan. With his eyes closed, he kept still, trying to catch his breath.

... leave me alone.

Slowly Fenris opened his eyes. He blinked at the campfire. He felt the bark of the tree against his back. In one hand he held the book about the boy, the girl and the dog. The fingers of his other hand were wrapped around his own cock. Hawke was not there. He had never been.

Disgusted and angry he let go and wiped his hand off on the grass.

You weak idiot! he scolded himself. All I had to do was stop thinking about that cursed man. About that mage. He is a mage! And here I am fantasizing instead. Like I want him. Like I need him. I don't. All I want is to find my sister. All I need to do is tear Danarius' heart from his chest. Nothing else. Nothing more.

He lay down on his side, with his back to the small fire. The last remains of his arousal ebbed away quickly, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. Emptiness with the hatred burning inside it. The only thing he could keep alive in himself. Hawke had tried to put it out, but he would not let him. He needed it. He hated it at the same time, hated the hatred, but what would he do without? He still had to keep going, and to do that he had to hate. He hated Danarius. He hated magic. He hated himself, perhaps most of all. He hated what he was. He hated it that he could not be with Hawke. Because he wanted to.