Chapter Text
Fenris paced angrily in front of the fire. Manservant, is it? He thought furiously. She did not refute the accusation to either of us. Luckily the merchant had not acknowledged him any further. He stopped to kick an empty bottle out of the way and yelped as already bruised toes came into contact with unyielding glass.
She still sees me as an inferior.
He slumped down heavily into an armchair and gazed at the vaulted ceiling. You really thought she could see you otherwise? He laughed bitterly.
A means to an end, I am. Nothing has changed, there is no point telling myself otherwise. I am merely a tool to be used and this time, this time I allowed it. First Danarius, now Hawke. A chance at escape, a plan to buy your freedom he thought mockingly. Stupid elf, look what has happened. You have an attachment to this woman. You could not have bound yourself more tightly to this place if you had shackled your wrists to the Gallows yourself.
He steepled his hands under his chin. If this plan works, I will leave he thought darkly. These chains must be broken.
A noise downstairs broke him from his reverie. Taking a deep breath, he schooled his features and left, mask firmly in place.
Hawke was waiting on the stairs next to the seated corpse who appeared to be holding a box in his lap. He descended slowly, noticing she had already lit the torches around the room. She nodded at him with a small smile which was quickly replaced by an expression of concern.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing is the matter, Hawke. Why do you ask?"
"You look upset."
He frowned. Clearly his attempt at inscrutability was less effective than he had believed.
"It is of no matter – "
"Was it the whole manservant thing? Yes, I interrupted you, I'm sorry, don't pout. And don't look so surprised, I'm not stupid. If that merchant had any brains she wouldn't be selling bits of cloth in a smelly marketplace, would she? Besides, you were following me around so it's not beyond the realms of comprehension that she got the wrong idea." She folded her arms and peered up at him.
"Look. Today was just a…a…bad joke. Much as I like the idea of you forced to obey my every whim you are a free man. Your choices are always your own."
He eyed her dispassionately. "Including my decision to tutor you?"
She grinned suddenly. "Well, there was a little emotional manipulation from Merrill as well as the extra incentives of earning some gold and the chance to berate me on your own time."
"You're right, how could I have refused?" He said flatly but she noticed he had relaxed slightly despite his wintry expression.
"Listen, I…" he saw her gaze shift uncomfortably and a muscle twitched in her jaw. "I don't think I've ever thanked you properly for your help." Her tongue darted out to wet a lip nervously. "And your patience. I'm aware our relationship is strained at the best of times. It's not been easy for either us. I've had to make…changes in my behaviour to accommodate…" she tailed off reluctantly.
"One such as me?" he said stiffly. "An ex-slave?" He snorted, brushing dust from his gloves. "Your family may be Kirkwall nobility but blood does not make up for bearing."
Hawke ground her teeth. "Actually I was going to say to accommodate the high expectations of someone as refined as yourself. For a moment there I forgot you are about as refined as the stitching on my smallclothes."
She turned away from him and stamped down into the foyer. He stood immobile for a moment in surprise. She believes herself to be inferior? To my expectations? He followed her down thoughtfully. I am beginning to understand her fury at any hint of condescension. He huffed a laugh quietly. We are more similar than I thought.
The corpse glared at him reprovingly as he passed.
She stood in the middle of the marble floor, daggers out, arms in the five past three position. She was looking away from him towards the door.
"Are the daggers necessary, Hawke?"
"They help me focus."
Sighing, he moved in front of her, holding his arms in a matching stance, a yard between them. There was a brief pause and he stepped forward. She stepped back. He moved to the side, turning and she twisted with him, following his steps perfectly even as her gaze remained firmly on a point to her right.
"You have been practising." He took quick steps forward and she retreated, flowing gracefully backwards.
"Surprised I can manage something so simple?" They circled each other and turned.
"I am impressed. You now appear to dance as effortlessly as you fight." She looked at him then as they circled each other again, moving in the opposite direction. He spread his arms wide and she whirled within his pretended embrace before stepping towards him. They spun around the room, watching the other's face carefully. Her boots scuffed the marble floor rhythmically and his armour rang as they moved.
"This isn't working." Hawke stopped suddenly and Fenris cannoned into her. "Ow."
"My apologies, Hawke. I didn't expect…let me see – "
She batted his hand away. "It's just a bruised cheek, I've had worse. Your bloody armour!"
He gazed at her as she gently explored her swelling cheek. "What did you mean? What isn't working?"
She looked up at him. "I need something to focus on. It's not as if I can pull out my daggers when Saemus leads me onto the dance floor."
"He may appreciate the symbolism."
"I shudder to think what he might pull out then. I've an idea. Wait here. Give me, oh, an hour or so. I'll be back."
Fenris perched on edge of the desk, arms folded and expression puzzled. "I'll be waiting."
Hawke stopped by Anders' clinic. Brushing off a bruised cheek was all well and good but appearing in front of the Seneschal with a black eye went beyond even the most daring of fashions. He was seated at his desk, feverishly scribbling, when Hawke wandered in. Seeing her he rose immediately, his face darkening.
"Did he do this to you?"
"Well, yes and no…"
He drew in a sharp breath and she saw his eyes flare briefly. "Mostly no!" She said hastily, putting a hand on his shoulder. He subsided, still looking at her face suspiciously.
"I, er, ran into his armour."
"You ran into his armour," he repeated flatly. "You do realise that's probably the worst excuse I've ever heard? As bad as 'I fell down the stairs' or 'a potato was on the chair and I happened to have no clothes on when I sat down?'"
"It's not an - what? Seriously? Has a patient actually ever said that to you or is it one of those stories from the tavern that a man who knows a man told you?"
"I have no comment. But I needed gloves." Anders turned her face slightly, examining her cheek.
"Urgh. Honestly, we were dancing and I ran into his armour. Well, more accurately his armour ran into my face." Anders hand hovered above her jaw and stopped.
"You were dancing?"
"Indeed we were. I was doing very well once I'd stopped obsessing over how best to stab him in the eye. He's turned out to be…an amenable partner." She smiled slightly, remembering and Anders narrowed his eyes. "The practice is missing something though, I'm heading to the Alienage to try and sort it out." She sighed as warmth spread over her cheek. "Thanks, Anders."
"You're welcome." He hesitated slightly. "Hawke…"
"Hmm?"
"I can dance too, you know." Hawke smiled fondly and patted his arm. "You never said. If I do end up stabbing him, you're the very next person I'll come to practise with."
"Thank you. I think."
After Hawke had left with a wink, Anders perched himself on the edge of the examination table with a sigh. He was miserably aware that although he had won several gold sovereigns, a part of him felt he was in the process of losing a lot more than money. It's probably for the best he told himself. The thought provided him with absolutely no comfort whatsoever.
Fenris hurriedly replaced the lid on the box the corpse was holding when the front door to the mansion swung open. Hawke stepped through followed by a small elven woman who looked around nervously.
"I'm back. I brought a guest."
"So I see. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Hawke ushered the woman gently forwards. "This is Briana. She's a…friend of the family. She's also a musician."
The elf woman nodded at him eagerly. "Yes, Ser. Since I was a child. Mistress Hawke was kind enough to buy me this lute after…after some troubles with gangs in the Alienage."
Fenris scowled at her. "There is no need to call me Ser, Mistress Briana." He snapped. "In addition, I ask that you'll allow me to pay you for your services tonight."
Briana cast a worried look at Hawke. "He means your musical services," said Hawke soothingly, quirking an eyebrow at him. "At least I hope that's what he means." She swallowed a smirk at Fenris' look of outrage.
Briana drew herself up indignantly. "I will never receive a copper from Serah Hawke," she snapped at him. "Not after what she's done for me and mine own." Striding past him she sat at the bottom of the staircase and began to unwrap a cloth bundle she had drawn from underneath her cloak.
"That's told you," said Hawke to him with a rueful shrug.
"I daresay."
"Also, I have a surprise for you and your toes. I think we can probably do away with the daggers. For the moment anyway."
"I am honoured."
"As you should b – " Hawke stopped abruptly and blinked in surprise. "You've removed your armour."
"Yes." He said simply.
The chest plate, pauldrons and gauntlets were gone and she was suddenly very aware of the newly revealed skin of his arms and hands. He wore only his simple close fitting tunic and whilst he was as tall he also seemed leaner and less imposing. Her eyes moved over the delicate tracings on his forearms and hands.
"Do they..?" she stopped again and he saw her tap her foot on the marble of the floor.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Count. Just ask."
He saw her brows go up in surprise. "Alright. Do they still hurt?"
"Yes. Some times are worse than others. They are not merely burns but raw lyrium forced under my skin."
"Barbaric." She muttered. "My injury was painful enough, but…was the pain lessened for you?"
"No. I was aware throughout the procedure." He saw her eyes widen in horror. "The agony removed any memories of the life I led before."
Hawke nodded slowly, comprehension spreading over her features. He watched her head tilt as she followed the pale lines to his fingertips with her eyes. "Will it hurt if I…"
"No-one has touched me in gentleness for so long, in truth I do not know."
She eyed him, lips pressed together as he searched her face for pity and to his relief found nothing but understanding. She continues to surprise me. Tentatively she reached out, and, after a pause, he turned his palm over, following the stretch of her arm as her fingers approached him.
They both jumped at a sudden shriek behind them. Briana had flattened herself against the bannister and was gibbering in terror at the corpse with a box.
Hawke cleared her throat and dropped her hand. "Oh, don't mind him," she said airily, moving to placate the stuttering elven woman. "He's part of the furniture." She picked up the box and sat down next to her, removing the shoes from their wrappings. "These were a gift, now's a good a time to try them as any." She toed off her boots and held them up, fiddling with the ribbons with some bemusement.
Briana was staring at the patterning. "They are beautiful. Are they a gift from your lover?"
Hawke snorted with amusement. "What lover? A gift from an…interested party. Where on earth are these supposed to go?"
"These markings here – "
"May I?" said Fenris softly from somewhere near her ankles. She watched in amazement as he gently fitted the slippers onto her feet and deftly wound the ribbons around her calves, fastening them securely.
"Where did you learn that? Was Danarius partial to women's shoes?"
He hesitated and then quirked a corner of his mouth. "A skill I picked up in passing." Briana began strumming quietly as he rose and moved back to the centre of the foyer where he sketched a bow. "Shall we?"
She moved towards him and immediately slipped on the marble of the floor. Arms pinwheeling she grabbed at the nearest steadying object only to have it come away in her hands as she fell over backwards. There was a discordant twang from behind them. They both stared at the lock of white hair clasped in her fist.
"If you wished a token from me, you need only have asked," he said sardonically, rubbing his scalp.
"Sorry. Give me a moment." She pulled a whetstone from a pouch and roughened the soles of the slippers. "That should do it."
"I hope so. I have only so much hair."
She moved into position in front of him stiffening slightly as he caught her hands in the warmth of his own. She watched his face carefully for signs of discomfort but he merely inclined his head and began the steps of the dance. The tune the elven woman played was unfamiliar to either of them but it was slow, melodious and strangely melancholy, pulling at them as they moved around the room together. Beautiful thought Briana hazily, swept up by their synchronicity and the swell of emotion playing always brought her.
"This isn't painful?" asked Hawke, wary of grasping his hands too tightly.
"You haven't stepped on my toes once."
"I'm clearly not trying hard enough."
He frowned. "Speaking of which, your face?"
"Anders. He thought you'd hit me." She grinned, went up on her toes and whirled. He caught her hands lightly. "I assured him that wasn't the case. He was on the verge of storming in with that glowy thing he does I think. Don't worry, I placated him. Them."
He stepped to one side of her and glared at her out of the corner of his eye. "I do not need your protection. And how did you placate him, may I ask?"
She moved to face him impatiently. Fine. Nobody needs anybody else's protection. "Womanly wiles," she said shortly.
"You are quite free in dispensing those it seems." He narrowed his eyes. "And that…mage…I believe is particularly susceptible. To what extent will you be practising them on the viscount's boy?" They resumed their gentle turns about the room, a little more stiffly than previously.
"To whatever extent they are required. Why do you ask? This is a job, remember? It may have some eventual perks, I suppose, but I don't intend to become overly entangled." She trailed an arm around his waist and moved to stand behind him.
"At what point do you consider yourself 'overly entangled'?" He stepped to one side grasping her arm and turning.
She looked up at him, lips pursed. "More than one night? I don't really see Qun boy and I becoming any more than occasional, how should I put it, dance partners" she continued, "but I'm sure I can maintain his interest and exaggerate my own."
"I do not believe any woman is capable of feigning interest she does not truly feel." His hands were on her upper arms, holding her still.
"Is that right?" said Hawke archly. "And what if I am interested in him?" They stood motionless, facing the other, the dance forgotten.
"I do not believe you are. It will be difficult to convince him otherwise. You are altogether too honest to deceive completely."
She was silent a moment, eyeing him. Honest, is it? With one swift movement she stepped forward and pressed her lips against his. She felt him freeze suddenly and was beginning to step away when his hand came up and tangled in her hair, his lips moving hesitantly against hers. His kiss was tentative and slightly clumsy but the sudden tremor that went through his body as he tilted his head to deepen it sent a bolt of heat straight down to her groin and she found herself responding, brushing his tongue with hers. She was suddenly aware the music had stopped and stepped away abruptly, wiping her lips with the back of her hand in seeming unconcern.
For a moment he simply gazed at her, face flushed and breathing shallow and she fought to conceal her confusion and sudden arousal at the sight of him so dishevelled.
You kissed me to prove a point." His eyes were wide and accusing, the hand still on her arm tightened convulsively.
"Of course. It's not so hard." She pulled her arm free and strode past him towards a gaping Briana, face impassive. "When you know how." She replaced the shoes in the box carefully and pulled on her boots, unable to look at him directly. "We must go. Thank you, Fenris. For everything. It's been very…educational."
"For us both" he murmured, standing aside as the two women passed. He reached towards her she passed him. "Hawke…"
She paused, attention caught by his outstretched hand. "Yes?"
"I…wish you luck."
He saw her mouth open to reply and as the silence stretched eventually she simply nodded and turned away, leaving him standing motionless in the shadows of the hall.
They headed back to the Alienage, Briana struggling to keep up with Hawke who was powering through the dim streets, glaring at the ground as though it had done her a personal injury.
"Mistress, Mistress Hawke please slow down!"
Of all the stupid, impulsive, reckless things you've ever done that has to be right up there. Tease him, fine. Provoke him, fine. Use him…like that…to prove a point, absolutely not fine.
She kicked a patch of dirt furiously.
How is it different from all the other times you've tried to get a reaction out of him? The stray thought wandered through her head and she slowed. Because it is. Because…
Because his reaction had shaken her. Through the warmth of his chest she had felt his heart racing, felt his fingers gently twining into her hair. He'd smelt of spices and armour oil and something else indefinably him. He'd shivered when she'd run her fingers over the back of his neck.
Because…
His face when she'd stepped away from him had been momentarily transformed with an expression of great sweetness, open and vulnerable until he'd realised what she'd done. Then oh then her face burned at the memory, the look he'd given her with the sheen of her lips still on him. Hurt, betrayal, anger…and she'd done nothing to appease him. She'd simply left him there, had run like a coward. He allowed you to touch him, you made him react to you and then you tossed him aside like he was nothing. She closed her eyes against the waves of shame tightening her throat and making her chest ache. You bloody idiot. Maker, I feel awful…
Because you like him.
She stopped so suddenly that Briana rebounded off the back of her with a soft crunch and multiple twanging noises.
"I'll buy you another one."
"It doesn't matter, Mistress Hawke. Is everything alright?"
"Not really, no." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's nothing I can do anything about now. Or possibly ever."
"I don't – "
"We're nearly there, come on."
They paused under the lamps outside the elven woman's dilapidated house. "I hope you have a nice time tomorrow, Mistress Hawke. You'll look beautiful I'm sure. Especially in those shoes."
Hawke shrugged. "You can have them afterwards. I'm sure I'll have no further use for them."
Briana coloured. "Oh, no, Mistress. That would not be…proper."
Hawke looked perplexed. "Proper? They would be a gift…and my feet don't sweat that much."
Briana shook her head quickly. "What I mean to say is…here." She opened the box and ran a finger over the delicate filigreed pattern. "These designs are a declaration, you see. It's an old elvish custom. An acceptance of the other." She caught Hawke's increasingly confused expression. "An intention to court?"
She jumped at Hawke's sudden loud peal of laughter. I'm pretty sure Varric knew nothing about the patterning when he picked these up for me. Aware that her laughter was tinged with hysteria she took a breath and wiped her eyes. "I understand. My thanks, Briana."
"Goodnight, Mistress Hawke. Be well."
Hawke turned back in the direction of Lowtown. Better get some sleep. Tomorrow is the big day.
But as Fenris' shocked and accusatory face danced before her eyes she knew that sleep would elude her for most, if not all, of the night ahead.
TBC