Fingers, dripping with magic, close to his skin. The fingers were fumbling his breeches, trying to pull them down. Foul magic against his stomach, setting the markings there ablaze. He opened his eyes, but what he saw was hazy. He could faintly make out the shape of the man pulling down his breeches. His chest plate and jacket were already gone.

No! Danarius must have found him while he had lost consciousness, and now he wanted to claim his property again. The idea nauseated him. He tried to resist, wriggle away.

"I think he is waking up!" a voice shouted. The hands had now loosened the laces of his breeches and tried again to pull them down.

NO! I don't want this anymore. I know now how it can be... No! Blinded by panic and disgust, he kicked wildly in the direction of the man-shaped form.

His feet hit something, and the hands withdrew. "Oww! Hawke, the mad bastard kicked me! Get your ass over here!"

Away. Away from here, before the hands get back. Because they would be back, forcing him to turn on his stomach, insisting on his surrender... His chest heaved heavily, working to get enough air. He tried to work himself upright, to get away, but a cough attack slammed him down. I can't breathe. Danarius won't let me. He nearly choked on the violent coughs and the thick fluid they brought with them. The warm liquid flowed out of his mouth and over his chin.

Darkness was nibbling at the edges of his consciousness again, closing in on him. But if he passed out now, Danarius would truly have him. He had to stay awake. He had to get away.

Still coughing, he turned on his side, hoping he would be able to sit upright from that position. Pain burst through him and threatened to shatter his mind back into the darkness. The hands were back and tried to keep him down. He kicked again, blindly. The hands disappeared.

"Damn it! HAWKE! By the Maker, I swear, if you don't take this over, I will finish him myself. He acts like a wild animal!"

The coughing wouldn't stop. The fluid prevented him from breathing. He could not get up. The pain in his side forced him to roll on his back.

Suddenly the air of magic became stronger. He was faintly aware of footsteps rushing towards him. Another mage. I have no chance.

"Anders, what did you do? He's even worse now!"

"I didn't do anything. He woke up and started acting insane!"

Another hand, full of magic, was placed on his chest. This was a different hand, though. It was gentle, applied no force to keep him down. The magic in it seemed less foul as well. As soon as the hand was there, the coughing ceased, and he could breathe. A second hand brushed the hair from his sweaty forehead.

"Shhh. It's alright, Fenris." A different voice. Belonging to the hands? He recognized it. Had he not been looking for this voice? It had been behind a locked door...

"Everything's alright. You're going to be okay."

He took a deep breath, relieved to be able to take in air again. A word was retrieved from the darkness, a name.

"Haw... Hawke?"

"I'm here, Fenris. I'm going to heal you. You'll be fine."

He relaxed and gave in to the darkness.

The next time he woke up, everything around him was quiet. There were no fidgeting hands or prodding fingers. No pain or coughing. He was surrounded by warmth and softness. Something heavy was on his legs.

Fenris' eyes shot open. He was in a bed, covered up to his chin by red sheets. Sunlight shone through the opened window, accompanied by a cool breeze. There was a large hound lying on his legs.

Fenris eyed the mabari nervously. He did not remember Danarius having a dog, but he could have gotten one after his escape. Slowly, as carefully as he could, he tried to pull his legs out from under the heavy weight. His efforts were rewarded with a low, disapproving growl. Perhaps he should try to jump out of the bed, but with the mabari lying like that, he would probably not end up standing. While trying not the alert the animal, he pushed the sheets down a little bit. When he attempted to sit upright, a louder growl resonated from the mabari's throat.

"Ah, good morning. Or good afternoon, I should say."

Fenris quickly turned his head to the right, to find Hawke right next to him on the bed. He was fully dressed and lay on top of the sheets, a book in one of his hands.

"Hawke! I... what..."

"How are you feeling?"

The mabari got up and jumped off the bed, giving Fenris the chance to sit up. "I'm... fine, I think."

Hawke got up from the bed and picked up a glass from the nightstand. "You have lost a lot of blood. Here." He handed the glass, filled with a dark red liquid, to Fenris. "Drink this. Wine helps your body replenish."

Realizing he was thirsty, Fenris took a few gulps.

"You really scared the living crap out of me, falling on my feet like that. You're lucky I have good ears. I wasn't sure I had truly heard something at the door." Hawke studied Fenris while he drank more wine. "Do you know who attacked you?" he asked softly. "Was it Danarius?"

Fenris let out a short, bitter laugh. "Had it been Danarius, I daresay I would not be here. No, they were common thugs. They said something about you, the Champion... They hoped you could be extorted to get you 'pet elf' back." He brought the glass to his mouth and swallowed the last of his wine.

Hawke took the empty glass, refilled it and handed it back to Fenris. "They mentioned me? And they wanted me to pay to get my... my... what back? Oh Andraste's panties. That's insane."

Fenris rubbed his forehead with his free hand. "I don't need this, Hawke. All this attention... People recognize me on the street! I've been asked several times if I'm 'with the Champion', and now this..."

Hawke sat down on the bed, a look of disbelief on his face. "So... hold on, how did this become my fault?"

"I don't want more people looking at me! Apparently everyone in the city now knows who I am, and yes, that is your fault. You're some kind of magnet for attention and trouble, and somehow you drag me with you."

"Yeah, because everything I do is just to annoy you. I woke up one morning, wondering 'what can I do to annoy Fenris today? Oh, I know! I'll duel the Arishok publicly and become Champion! That should piss him off.'"

"I... I don't mean it like that, but... without you I would not have gotten ambushed!"

"I believe I recall a pretty recent ambush that had absolutely nothing to do with me. And you would not have gotten ambushed if you had not been so foolish to walk alone through Lowtown at night."

"You... how did you know I was attacked in Lowtown?"

"You left a whole trail from my doorstep to Lowtown. The neighbors must believe I now drag virgins to my lair to kill them or something like that. Drink your wine."

Fenris brought the glass to his mouth. He felt the alcohol of his previous glass go straight to his head. "I apologize for ruining your reputation."

Hawke snorted. "I don't need you to ruin my reputation with the nobles, Fenris. I can do that perfectly well myself." He shifted closer. "I need to examine you, check if the healing went right. You were in a pretty bad shape."

Only then Fenris became aware of the fact that Hawke may be fully clothed, but he was not. The sheets had shifted when he sat upright, revealing his bare torso. A quick look under the sheets assured him he was at least not completely naked but that was only a moderate reassurance.

"Where are my clothes?"

"Bodahn is patching them up and trying to get the stains out."

Fenris casually tried to pull op the sheet so that he was more covered, knowing that he failed at the 'casual' part. The memory of his last night outside of Kirkwall made his face grow hot. He hoped there was not something that gave away to Hawke what he had been doing. Would there be any evidence left on him?

Of course Hawke noticed his hesitance. "I just need to check whether your breathing is okay. One of your lungs was filled with blood. I have to make sure no fluids remain."

Fenris tried to avoid meeting Hawke's eyes. The wine proved a good distraction. He drank until his glass was empty and his excuse ran out.

Hawke's mouth twitched in amusement. "Oh, come on. Don't look so embarrassed. It's not like I haven't seen it before. Ah... I mean..." A hint of pink appeared on Hawke's cheeks when he realized what he could be referring to. "I mean I undressed you. Yesterday, that is. Anders refused to touch you after you kicked him, and I had to get your clothes off to properly heal you. And I washed your feet."

"You washed my feet?" Fenris repeated. His feet would never feel the same again.

"Well, they were dirty! I was not going to let you sleep in my bed with such black toes."

"When did I kick Anders?"

"You don't remember? You woke up soon after we had carried you inside. I was getting poultices and bandages and giving Bodahn and Oranna instructions while Anders tried to take off your armor so that we could reach your wounds. You freaked out and kicked him. Twice. He wasn't too happy about that. Hey, don't look so content!"

Fenris forced his face back into a blank expression. "I am not." With Hawke's explanation, the events returned to him. The mage's fingers, impatiently fidgeting at his breeches. The hands, trying to push him back down. In his delirium he had believed it was Danarius. He suppressed a shudder and pulled the sheets up higher.

Hawke crawled over the bed and sat on his knees next to him. Carefully he pulled the sheets down, so that Fenris' chest was exposed again.

"This won't take long," he said. He placed his hands on both sides of Fenris' ribcage. Fenris immediately held in his breath at the contact. The markings that graced his ribs lit up underneath Hawke's fingertips. A pleasant warmth spread from them.

"Okay, take a deep breath. Good, and breathe out. And again. In. Out." Those hands. The images of his fantasy became more and more vivid. He'll know. Somehow he'll know.

Hawke nodded to himself and then surprised Fenris by putting his ear against his chest. Not in the middle, but a bit to the right. Fenris stiffened again.

"What are you doing?" he asked nervously.

"Listening. Breathe in again." Fenris obeyed. He stared at the top of Hawke's head, at his red brown hair. It was loose. No braid this time. He could feel it against his skin, together with Hawke's beard. He tried to use the deep breaths to calm his body, but the urge to start breathing rapidly was strong. Hawke's cheek against his chest... Fenris tensed his abdominal muscles. In one hand he was still holding the empty wine glass. The other he now used to grab the sheets and squeeze them. None of those muscular actions helped to get a hold of himself. What little blood his body still contained said goodbye to his head and travelled to lower regions. He'll notice.

Hawke withdrew his head and removed his hands, a satisfied smile on his face. "I'm very proud of myself. It doesn't sound like any fluids have remained in your lung. I did a good job." He cocked his head at Fenris. "Do you feel any pain? I might have missed an injury. I felt pretty weary when I was done with your lung and side."

"No," Fenris lied. He felt the wound on his thigh still sting, but there was no way he would allow the sheets to be pulled back any further at this moment. "I want my clothes."

"Why? No need to wear them in bed."

Fenris gave his glass back to Hawke. "I want to go." He shifted to the edge of the bed, clutching the sheets so that they kept covering him from his waist down.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but when you stand up now, what little blood you have left goes out of your head to your toes. Your head won't like that, and you will fall on your face. I warn you that I will sit and laugh here for half an hour before I can be bothered to pick you up when that happens."

Fenris stared angrily over his shoulder. "I don't need you nursing over me, Hawke."

"Aww, and here I thought I was doing so well. I was considering a career change. Well, by all means, try your luck."

By the time he had reached the edge of Hawke's ridiculously large bed, Fenris realized he was right. He was not even standing yet and he was already feeling dizzy. Dizzy and drunk. Why am I feeling drunk after only two glasses? With an annoyed sigh he lay down.

"A wise choice," Hawke commented.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Sixteen or seventeen hours, I'd say. It's late afternoon now."

"My sword... Did you find it?"

"You had no sword with you, and we haven't found it when we followed your trail of blood into Lowtown."

"I had to leave it behind... I couldn't carry it anymore."

"Varric is currently trying to trace it on the black market. A looter has probably found it."

No sword. That should be remedied quickly. He needed a blade. He always kept it near him.

While Fenris worried over the loss of his weapon, Hawke cleared his throat. "There is something else," he said eventually.

Fenris turned his head to look at Hawke. "What?" He did not like the tone of Hawke's voice.

"When I healed you, I noticed a trace of magic, a spell. I think it was blood magic. It was bound to your blood, but when you lost so much of it, it weakened the spell and I was able to dispell it."

"What do you mean? What kind of spell was it?"

"I'm not sure. I am no expert when it comes to blood magic. Do you feel anything different? Is there something you realize or remember now, that seemed different before?"

Fenris pained his memory for anything suspicious. "That's all very vague. What could I..." In a flash he saw Hadriana's face before him. She was out of breath, her heavy eye make-up smudged after the intense battle she had just been through. And had lost. He bent over her to look into her cold eyes. For the first time he saw fear in them. It made him feel powerful to recognize that emotion there. All those years he had been the one who was afraid of her, fearful of what new ways to torment him she could come up with. Finally, the tables had turned. He could almost see the mechanisms in her head working to think of something that could save her. "So I have your word," she whispered in a hoarse voice. "I tell you, and you let me go?" How hopeful she sounded.

"Yes. You have my word."

"Her name is Varania. She's in Qarinus, serving a magister by the name of Ahriman."

Varania. Maker! My sister's name is Varania! Hadriana had told me after all. Her name is Varania and she is serving a magister named Ahriman in Qarinus. Hadriana must have used blood magic on me to make me forget the details. When I broke my word to her, or even before? That shrewd bitch. Even after her death she had managed to torment him. All this time he had wasted, not knowing where to look for his sister... while she had revealed that information to him! He had to contact Pete to inform him. With this information it should be easy to track her down. But how could he reach Pete? He should go after him. He had probably left Tantervale already.

"Fenris? Are you okay? Do you know what the spell did with you?"

"I... I have to go." He threw off the sheets and got out of bed. He could barely stay on his feet, but despite his lightheadedness he stormed out of Hawke's bedroom.

"Go? Go where?" Hawke yelled after him.

Fenris did not wait to explain. There was nothing to explain. It was the usual. The corruption of those foul mages had once again succeeded in tearing it all apart. There was no chance he could ever move on like this. No way of building a life. He was building it on quicksand every time. As long as they existed he had no chance. Nor when he crushed their existence, apparently.

How he made it off the stairs he did not know, but eventually he found himself standing in front of a shocked Bodahn.

"My clothes," he demanded. When he tried to put on his breeches, he nearly fell over, but he refused to slow down. There was no time. He had to hurry.

"By the Void, what is wrong with you?!" Hawke appeared behind him in the doorway while Fenris put on his jacket. He had not bothered with the laces of his breeches.

"I need to... I have no time."

"Why? You've got on important meeting somewhere? You need rest. You can't go anywhere like this."

Chest plate. The chest plate was heavy. Too heavy. It would slow him down. Gauntlets then. The straps were too complicated. He would fasten them later. What else? Bodahn handed him his belt. Okay, done. He turned around to face Hawke, who was blocking the door.

"Out of my way, Hawke."

Hawke folded his arms across his chest and raised a mocking eyebrow. Fenris had not enough patience to deal with that stubborn man now. He marched forward and tried to push him aside, but instead he ended up losing his balance and falling against him.

"Or what? You're going to pass out against me?"

"Let me pass." He steadied himself with the support of the wall.

He expected Hawke to object, to try to stop him, but he simply stepped aside to let him through. Fenris stumbled through the opening Hawke had given him and left the estate.

Once he was outside Fenris looked around to determine which direction he should take. Should he set off to Tantervale immediately? It was almost getting dark. Perhaps he should get his stuff from his mansion. What stuff he did not know, but going to his mansion first seemed like a good idea. Reluctantly, he left the support of Hawke's estate.

If only he could see straight. The world was so blurred and danced up and down in front of his eyes. It was like he was on a ship while the sea was restless. Just keep walking. Straight ahead.

Were people looking at him? Yes, he saw them watching him. They must recognize him as easy prey, without his sword. Perhaps one of them had ran off to Danarius now to alert him. What could he do when Danarius came with a new army of hunters while he had no sword? He still had his markings, but they required him to be close to his foe, and with a lot of enemies that would mean his own end.

I have to find Varania. Her name is Varania. Varania, Varania, Varania. She's in Qarinus. How could Hadriana have put that spell on him without him noticing? Why hadn't Hawke noticed it earlier? He was a mage. Surely he was aware of it when a spell was cast. Had he decided not to tell Fenris then? Had Hawke kept that precious information to himself? Was it funny to see Fenris trying to track down his sister without knowing anything about her? Yes, perhaps that was Hawke's fault as well. He could trust nobody, especially now that he had no sword. He was so defenseless without.

He had crossed the square and turned around, his back against a large pillar, to see if he was being followed. He could not be caught. Not now. It was not fair if they caught him now.

Onwards then. It was not far. There, he could already see the Chantry. To the left, and then he would be there. To the left, and... he groaned. Stairs. Not more stairs. Why were there so many stairs in this damned city? Another cruel trick of those cursed mages.

He was so tired, and he had yet to climb the stairs. He had to do that quickly. They could close in on him on those stairs, and then he had nowhere to go. He had no sword. Panic threatened to overwhelm him. Why is it so hard to breathe? Hawke said he had healed me. Another mage's joke? You could not trust them. Even in death they kept haunting you.

After four steps he had to give up and sit down. He leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath. Everything is falling apart. He had to find Pete, but he had no idea where he was now. Somewhere in Tevinter, and he could not go there. His sister was in Qarinus. It did not matter anyway. He had no sword. He could not get up the stairs. They would catch him. Danarius would finally regain his lost property.

"I'm impressed. You even made it partially up the stairs."

He raised his head to see Hawke towering above him. "Hawke. I... I need my sword."

"I already told you Varric is looking for it. If he can't trace it, I'll buy you a new one. For now I have a few things stashed, so you can get one of those. When you will be able to hold it without hurting yourself, that is."

"People are... looking at me. I saw them. Watching me."

"Probably because you have your jacket hanging open. And you weren't exactly walking in a straight line. To think you were blaming me for drawing attention on you..."

"I'm dizzy."

"Yeah, didn't I warn you about that? I know not everything that comes out of my mouth is brilliant, but sometimes I might actually say something smart. Watch for those little nuggets of knowledge."

Fenris let his head hang between his knees again, hoping it would help to drive away the lightheadedness. Above him, Hawke let out a dramatic sigh.

"Okay, I know I said I would wait for half an hour before I picked you up, but it's getting a little chilly outside and I'm hungry. Not to mention you manage to look even sadder than Merrill when she uses her 'you-kicked-my-puppy' voice."

He heard Hawke's robes rustle, and then felt one arm slide behind his back and the other under his knees. Before he knew it, Hawke had lifted him up and he was leaning with his head against his chest.

"Put me down," he protested.

"Fenris, remember I said I am a patient man?"
"Why..."

"Well, I lied. I'm not patient at all. I'm very impatient actually. I hate waiting. Waste of time. So I suggest you stop trying my patience for now and shut up."

"Where are we going?"

"Back to my place. Dinner's almost ready."

Hawke turned around and started walking back in the direction they came from, but after a few steps he halted again.

"Champion." A female voice with an Orlesian accent.

"Ah, miss Fifi de Launcet. Good to see you. You look especially lovely today. This," he raised his arms a little as if to show Fenris, "is Fenris. He is not feeling well at the moment."

"Thank you. Champion, why is there so much blood near your door?"

"Oh, that. Nothing to worry about, my lady. I just had... a practice duel last night. You know, to keep in shape for the next Arishok."

"Oh... did you win?"

"Of course I did. My opponent is in the stew right now."

"Uh... b...but..."

Fenris interrupted them with a groan. "Hawke! If you insist on continuing this, at least let me go!"

"Now now, not so impatient, Fenris. Fifi, if you'll excuse me. As you can see, Fenris here is in a bit of a hurry."

"Of... of course, Champion."

Fifi did not seem to mind she had an excuse to walk away.

"See? I'm perfectly capable of ruining my reputation myself." Hawke sounded rather triumphant.

"Who's in the stew?" Fenris mumbled against Hawke chest. Hawke was still carrying him in his arms. As humiliating as it might be, it also felt oddly... comfortable. Safe, almost. He knew it was a petty illusion, though, just as everything else that made him believe he was safe. There was only one way he could ever be safe, and it had nothing do to with hanging in Hawke's arms.

"A chicken from the local market, I guess."

"Why make up this nonsense? You're as bad as Varric."

"I am not! I was hoping to scare her a little. I danced with her and her sister on a ball, because her mother was the hostess. But now she won't leave me alone. Hence a bit of encouragement to go follow somebody else."

They were silent for a moment while Hawke kept walking. Fenris felt tempted to bury his face in Hawke's robes, to simply give everything up and stop battling the forces that continued to kick him around like a toy. The lyrium reacted to Hawke's hands even through the leather layer of his clothes. It added to his wooziness, his mind too ragged to shut these feelings out. Something inside him was nagging him, telling he should not let himself be carried like a child, ordering him to put an end to this humiliation. But he was too tired to do anything. Too tired to either fight or give up.

"Hawke, why can't I hate you?" What did I just say?

Hawke paused. "Perhaps that wine wasn't such a good idea after all."

"Answer me. You always seem to have an answer to everything."

Hawke started walking again. "Uhm... okay. Because of my witty, hilarious sense of humor? My dashing good looks? My impressive intellect?"

"No... that's not it."

"Huh. Well... ouch? I think a better question is why I don't hate you." They had reached the estate. Hawke had left the door open, so he could enter immediately.

"Why don't you?" You're supposed to.

Hawke sighed as he carried Fenris up the stairs to his bedroom. "Just... shut up, alright? You're drunk. Blood and wine in equal measure in your brain right now. Or perhaps it's just wine your brain is swimming in."

"You gave me the wine."

"I know that. That's why I tell you to shut up, or you'll probably feel the need to kill me in the morning. So, here we are again." Hawke bent over and lay Fenris down on his bed. "Come on, get your clothes off."

Fenris felt too exhausted and dazed to protest.

"Hey, you lied to me!" Hawke said as he removed Fenris' breeches.

He tried to raise his head to look at Hawke. "What?"

Hawke pointed at his leg. "You said you didn't need more healing, but you have a wound on your thigh. I can't believe I missed that. I'll heal it."

Just enough of the fog in his head cleared to regain the sense to object. "No."

Hawke frowned at him. "Why? It looks nasty, but it won't take long." He leaned over and reached for Fenris' leg. "Just let me..."

Fenris crawled backwards over the bed. "No!" He had already discovered he had not much control over himself at the moment. He did not want to test himself with more physical contact with Hawke. The need to resist had returned. He would not give up, not give in. They would not get him down.

"What... ugh. Fine. I'll do it tomorrow." Hawke's forehead had wrinkled in annoyance.

Fenris pulled the blanket over himself. "Thank you."

"Do you want something to eat?"

"I have no appetite."

"Perhaps a piece of fruit? I'll bring you something later."

"Hawke..." He suddenly remembered something. "Your book... I lost it. I'm sorry."

Hawke gave him a half-smile. "That's alright, Fenris. If it was between you and the book, I'd rather have you back than the book."

"How does it end? I didn't finish it. Ten more pages, I think."

"You read it?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Well... I looked at the pictures, mostly. I tried to read it, but it was difficult."

Hawke walked around the bed and sat down on the other side. "I know. There were difficult words in it. Could you read some shorter ones, though?"

"Yes." He could not keep a defensive tone out of his voice.

Hawke chuckled. "Of course. I didn't mean to doubt you. You've made good progress so far."

"So how does it end?"

"Let's see... the dog comes up with a clever plan to lure the dragon away, so that the boy can rescue the girl. He does that, and then they both go after the dragon and the dog to help the dog. By the time they get there, they see the dragon is already locked up in a cave, blocked by large rocks in front of the entrance. The dog is waiting there for them, barking happily. When they get back home, it turns out the girl is actually a princess. Her father the king is so grateful that his daughter has been saved, that he promises the boy he can marry her when they grow up. They fall in love and live happily ever after. With the dog."

"The dog locked the dragon inside a cave?"

"Yep."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Did you miss the part that says it's about a mabari? Those dogs are very smart."

"How did it get the dragon in the cave?"

"Only the dog knows that."

"What a stupid story."

"No, it's great. Just think about it for a while."

"Why? It's a silly happy ending for children."

"Happy endings are not only for children, Fenris."