8.

Orana answers the door of Hawke's estate when Fenris knocks. She looks up at him curiously, and Fenris realizes he hasn't take the time to properly clean the blood from his face.

"Mistress Hawke said to let you in," she says, but she doesn't move from where she blocks his path.

Fenris frowns at her. "Obviously you wish to say something."

"You hurt her. Mistress doesn't know I saw her lip, but I did," she is glaring at him now. Glaring. "You should know better."

He looks away and swallows and then back again to meet her eyes. "I apologize, Orana. I would speak with Hawke now."

"I don't need apologies," she snips, but steps back and lets him pass, closing the door with more force than necessary. "And Mistress may think she doesn't need them, but she does deserves them."

"I-"

"Mistress is in her room. Messere," she interrupts him and nods curtly, and it is clear she is dismissing him as she walks toward the kitchen.

He watches her until she disappear from view and thinks, yes, he will definitely give her more credit in the future.

Fenris climbs the stairs slowly. He will have to bathe soon; the dried blood at his hairline is starting to itch. He frowns as he walks down the carpeted hall, pausing outside her bedroom door. Closing his eyes and letting a long breath out, he then knocks.

"Fenris? Come in," she says, voice muffled behind the door. As he pushes it open, she continues speaking. "If that's you, you better have an antidote for this…"

She's sitting cross-legged on her bed, dark circles under her eyes and papers fanned out in a half-circle to one side. She smiles at him, though, and pats the bed. "Please tell me you found something. I had to light my candles and heat my bathwater and start the fire by hand."

"Hnn," he shakes his head as though in disapproval, at the same time knowing full well Hawke never uses her magic for such things.

He sits on the edge of the bed carefully, mindful of his soiled clothing until Hawke reaches forward and catches the sleeve of his coat between her fingers. She smiles and jerks her head, patting the space next to her.

As he moves to sit nearer, he produces the vial. "I would advise caution, but one would imagine there are easier ways to kill you than sending poison with me."

"But think of the scandal," she grins and for the second time in less than a day, he watches her drink down a potion and grimace.

"I would prefer not to," he takes the empty vial from her, setting it aside.

It surprises him when she leans forward and kisses him, teeth grazing his lower lip before she sits back again.

"Thank you," she says.

He touches his tongue to his lip and tastes something like unripe pears. "You are welcome."

He looks down at his hands, not accustomed to seeing them bare; he assumes his armor will be repaired by the morrow.

"You should wear this again," Hawke has the fabric of his sleeve in her fingers again, but she pulls a face. "After you get it cleaned."

"Hawke. I… my actions. I would apologize again."

She releases his sleeve and picks up one of the papers. He thinks it a diversionary tactic, but she hands it to him wordlessly. He takes it and recognizes the list Aveline had given her.

"Read it," Hawke says at his questioning look.

He does as she asks. It is a list of surnames only, some of which he can place from the very few times he's accompanied Hawke with an errand for Anders' underground. Then he reaches the last few names and snaps his eyes up to look at her.

"Amell. The assassin… Arainai. He spoke of this. Someone is interested in your family," his eyes narrow and the anger he feels surprises him. "You knew of this and said nothing?"

She picks at the coverlet, then shuffles some of the other papers. "Yes. I didn't want you to worry. You've… you haven't been yourself, lately."

"I haven't been myself?" he parrots this back. "Perhaps that is because -" He stops abruptly, setting the paper down. "I do not wish to argue. I wish to explain my actions."

"Fenris…" she says, taking the list and folding it carefully. "I'm not as… imperceptive as you might think."

She uncrosses her legs and moves to kneel beside him. The dark rings under her eyes have started to fade. He thinks she truly looks less fatigued and surely the antidote is working. She reaches out slowly, as though he might bolt, and brushes hair from his forehead and then traces the outline of his ear. "I was in the Hanged Man when we killed Danarius. I did hear what he said to you."

He almost flinches away from her. "It is not as simple as you might think."

"I don't imagine there was anything simple about it. But what you need to know is I am…"she pauses, slipping one hand inside his. "You are my family and I -" her voice is thin, stretched tight as though this costs her dearly to say. "I am terrified of being alone."

He looks at her hand, so fragile in his own, and thinks of past attachments and affections and responses. He knows he must explain or drown. He nods once, as if affirming the decision. When he looks at her, he sees only the directness so unique to Hawke.

"Family," he says the word carefully. "I… can think of nothing I could want more. But there are things about my past you must hear first."

Her fingers curl around his palm and she lifts his hand to her lips, kissing the inside of his wrist.

When he begins speaking, it is while holding her hand tightly.

END

Author's notes:

A very special thanks to the LJ crew for the test-reads. :-)

Yes! I am working on the next story for these two. I'm slow, however. Expect a few months' wait as it's plotting out around 25-30k.

Yes, I am on LJ and Tumblr (same username) and absolutely love to interact with people.

-o-

I'm currently without a beta reader and would like to find someone to work with. I'm specifically interested in a reader who has a firm grasp on sentence flow, plot logic, and thematic elements.

I don't necessarily need my hand held, but do like exchanging dialogue with my beta. I very much need someone who is not afraid to speak his/her mind or challenge me as a writer.