A/N: WHABAM. Okay, here's the next chapter! Thank you guys for being so forgiving and awesome about my delayed updates. It really means a lot to me that you're enjoying the story. I hope you continue to like it! I know it's been kind of slow, but the pressure-cooker that is Hawke's relationship with Fenris is starting to heat up, I promise. Anyway, I still don't own Dragon Age. 3

Hawke nodded and swallowed her nerves, following Isabela carefully down the stairs. She wasn't used to walking in heels, but the pirate strode into the common room as if they'd never left. Hawke found herself hoping maybe no one would notice her sudden wardrobe change, or act like it wasn't a big deal, but as soon as she stepped into the firelight, Varric let out a loud whistle.

"Hawke! You're almost pretty enough to give Bianca a run for her money. Almost." The dwarf said with a grin.

Merrill, who had been lingering near the door with Carver, squealed and ran over. "Look at you! You're so beautiful!" the elf cried.

No, there was no escaping the attention now.

Even Aveline touched the mage gently on the arm and smiled. "You clean up well, Hawke."

Hawke smiled gratefully, murmuring kind words of thanks to the others as they gathered around her. She felt light-headed, as if this strange, unexpected situation was happening to someone else and she was merely watching. The woman accepting the compliments and flattery was far more graceful than she was about receiving attention.

Her gaze found Fenris, standing at the edge of the group, his dark eyes trained on her. There was an expression on his features that she couldn't quite place, his brow furrowed the tiniest bit, a subtle downward quirk to his lips, his jaw clenched. Maybe he was offended that she'd changed out of the dress he'd gotten for her. She'd have to apologize. Isabela hadn't really left her with much choice…

And then the light-headedness vanished, and Hawke came crashing back down as Anders approached, squeezing her hand in both of his. All she could think of was how warm his palms were, unpleasantly so, and slightly damp from sweat. "You look beautiful," he said quietly, his gaze focused on her face. "May I steal you for a dance or three?"

Hawke felt her throat tighten as his words settled on her. Help. Where had Isabela gone? There she was, by the bar. She didn't have an excuse to avoid the situation. Forcing her lips into a smile, she nodded. "Sure, though I'm famished. Hopefully dinner will be served soon!"

Anders grinned and guided her toward a space of the floor that had been cleared of tables. The musicians in the corner began playing louder, picking up the tempo into a lively tune. Hawke was grateful for that. No slow-dancing. Merrill and Carver joined in on the dance, and after a great deal of tugging Isabela hauled… what was his name? Sebastian…? over. She remembered helping out the prince of Starkhaven, though she hadn't seen too much of him since. Still, it was nice to see another friendly face, and she gave him a wave as she caught his eye. He bowed his head politely in response.

Throughout the fast-paced song, which involved a lot of swapping-off of dance partners (which she was also grateful for), Hawke kept glancing toward the table where Varric, Aveline, and Fenris sat, playing cards with Bodahn Feddic and, oddly enough, Sandal. Even from where she was, she could tell Fenris was cheating for Sandal and helping the boy win more than his fair share of hands. None of the others seemed to mind, but… Fenris was scowling at the wall directly across from him, hardly paying any attention to the game at all.

The song ended and all the dancers clapped. Hawke joined in, smiling, until she realized that they'd launched into a much slower song. Her stomach turned into a knot as Anders reached out and gracefully caught hold of her hand and her hip, pulling her in close. She gingerly placed her hand on the other mage's shoulder, trying to maintain as much distance between them as she could.

"You really are stunning, you know," Anders murmured in her ear.

"Thanks." She managed to respond, casting a helpless glance to her right and left. Merrill and Carver were revolving slowly in place, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the room. Sebastian was apologetically waving his hands and backing toward the table, and a sulky Isabela was following him. The two joined in on the next round of cards, but Isabela glanced back at Hawke. She met the pirate's gaze, frantically trying to mentally communicate a plea for help to the other woman. This wasn't what she wanted. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't who it was supposed to be.

But Isabela turned back to the table, and aside from giving Varric a playful kick, nothing changed. Hawke swallowed hard, trying to ignore the feeling of Anders' hot, slightly sweaty hand on her own, and the weight of his grasp on her hip. And yet, for all she tried to ignore it, she couldn't think of anything else. Maybe they'd serve dinner soon. Maybe then she'd have an excuse. Maybe she could escape to the bathroom and just never come out.

"Is something on your mind?" Anders asked quietly, staring into her eyes.

She forced a smile and an awkward chuckle. "Oh, I just hate wearing high heels."

"Ah, that hurts. Here I am, unable to think of anything but you, and you're thinking about your feet." He teased, his laughter revealing a flash of his white teeth.

"Ah-" she let out a noise that was something between a groan and a sigh, trying to think of a way to evade the subject.

"I would like it if we could spend more time together in the futu-" Anders was cut off quite suddenly by the sudden, clawed gauntlet on his shoulder. He turned his head, brows knitting into a scowl. "Do you need something?"

"I need to cut in," Fenris replied, his voice dangerously low.

"What—we're dancing, here."

"If you call that dancing. Stumping around her like that. I'm surprised you haven't stepped on her feet yet." The elf said with a withering look.

"Like you know how to dance," Anders said, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Hawke."

But Hawke was trapped in the glare of those dark eyes, and she felt her lips quirking into a genuine smile. She didn't move, anchored to the spot.

Anders released her so he could turn to glare fully at the elf, and Hawke took the chance to discreetly wipe her hand off on her skirt. "Look, Hawke and I were enjoying our dance, and-"

"And I don't care. I'm cutting in."

"What if Hawke doesn't want to dance with you?" Anders asked, his arms crossing over his chest.

The musicians had stopped at this point, and the tavern was so silent you could have heard a pin drop. Bodahn was guiding Sandal gently toward the door, and the card game had stopped. Even Carver and Merrill were throwing curious looks toward the scene. Hawke was mortified. It was like everyone wanted to see the big Fenris Versus Anders Showdown but her.

Fenris just swept past Anders and moved to stand before Hawke, his eyes burning into hers. "Dance with me." He said, his voice low. It was a command, not a request, and something about it thrilled her senses. She couldn't have said no if she'd wanted to. Fenris captured her hand in his, placing his other hand on the curve of her hip. Unlike Anders, though, he didn't try to haul her in against himself. No, he held her politely, maintaining a respectful distance between the two of them. Hawke was both grateful for that, and frustrated. Of course the man she actually wanted to be that close to was the one to be proper. The elf shot a glance toward the musicians. "Well?" he asked impatiently, and they began playing another slow tune.

"C'mon and play some cards, Blondie! Hawke's not going anywhere." Varric hollered, and Anders had no choice but to accept defeat for the moment. He headed toward the table and took a seat. Bit by bit, the conversations started back up. Carver and Merrill resumed dancing.

"Are you alright?" he asked her in a murmur, his eyes still smoldering.

"I'm fine. Thanks for saving me," She replied with a soft chuckle. Hawke felt herself relax as she moved with the elf, who proved to be an astonishingly graceful dancer despite Anders' doubts. "Where did you learn to dance?"

He spun her deftly, drawing a gasp of surprise from her lips as her skirt twirled outward, revealing a flash of her pale thigh. As he drew her in, his expression still thunderous, he spoke. "I learned during my time in Tevinter. Such dances originated in Orlais, but dancing is a universal thing, it seems. Danarius threw parties, and I watched."

"Your expertise in combat can't hurt, either." She murmured, feeling herself falling into the steps with ease, Fenris guiding her movements with precision and grace.

"I suppose that is true. Swordsmanship is its own form of a dance."

Hawke had to bite back a sigh of pleasure as she felt his fingers at her hip shift to the small of her back, supporting her as he leaned her back so far her hair almost brushed the floor. And then they were both upright again, though now she was closer to him. She wasn't sure if he'd drawn her in closer, or if she'd been the one to press against him, or if it was reached by mutual conclusion. But he didn't step back and she certainly wasn't about to. No, Hawke was happy to lose herself in the music and the feel of the lean, powerful elf holding her close to himself.

"Why do you tolerate his advances?" Fenris asked suddenly, quietly, startling her from her reverie.

Hawke flushed, embarrassed. "Well, it's not really… I mean, usually he isn't that—overt. I used to think… hope… he was just being polite. You know? And now that I know that's not the case, I need to talk to him, but now didn't seem like the right time. I'll have to go by his clinic in a few days and ask him to, no… tell him I'm not interested."

"You've no interest in him at all?"

"No. He's a friend. He's a nice guy. He's attractive enough, I guess. But I don't feel anything when I look at him."

Maybe she was deluding herself into thinking his expression softened at her words. If she was, she was okay to keep on deluding herself for awhile. It was nice to pretend that Fenris cared enough for her to feel protective of her.

As the song ended, she smiled up at him, her gaze meeting his. "Thank you for the dance." She whispered.

"It was my pleasure."

"C'mon and eat some dinner! It'll get cold if you four decide to dance through another song. There'll be plenty of time for that after you eat." Isabela called. She caught Hawke's eye and grinned smugly.

Hawke didn't know what Isabela had done, but she knew she'd hear about it sooner or later. For now, she headed toward the table with Fenris, Merrill, and Carver. Her brother looked at her and then nodded, his expression apologetic. She felt her own features mirroring the look, and she nodded as well. No matter how they fought, they were family. And family forgave each other.