[Grace]

The book she'd found in the Alienage tucked into the satchel she'd tied across her back, Marian Hawke made her way up the levels of Hightown under the silent cover of moon and stars, her boots nothing more than a soft tap against stone. Her blades were tucked safely away, at the ready in the event of a fight, though she had a sneaking suspicion they would not be a necessity tonight.

Still, though, she took precautions as she kept to the shadows, darting out into the moonlight only when she couldn't stay in darkness any longer. Sometimes she liked running through Hightown like this, like a prowling cat scouting her territory. A smile danced across her lips as she reached the top of the staircase that led away from the Chantry courtyard, and she turned sharply to her left.

Not even thirty paces away was the front door to a mansion, Fenris' mansion, and her heart kicked in her throat a little. The satchel felt heavy against her bags, her blades even heavier as she neared the torch-lit door. Swallowing the lump that was her erratic heart, she raised a fist to knock before stopping herself to lower it to the knob. She tested it once, finding it unlocked before she slipped inside.

Part of her wondered, briefly, if this was a good idea. If she should barge into the elf's home in the dead of night to bring him a book she found in Lowtown. Would Fenris take kindly to her intruding upon his private time? Maker, she suddenly feared as she shut the door quietly, what if he's asleep? What if I'm disturbing him by doing this? Cursing herself quietly, she started to back track and open it again when she stopped at a noise.

The sound of distant..humming? No, singing. Soft, low, husky and deep. Fenris.

Marian turned, glancing through the open door that led into the grand foyer of the mansion. She could see the mirrored staircases that led to the second floor, the tiles still broken and lifted from the foundation in spots. She often wondered why he hadn't bothered to clean any of it up, considering he roamed everywhere barefoot. But the thought was quickly shoved away when she heard the soft singing again. Fenris?

Silently, Marian stepped through the doorway into the grand foyer, glancing around for any sign of the Tevinter elf, only to find nothing but emptiness. He wasn't in here, that was for certain. Biting her lip, she lifted her gaze towards the second floor, where the door to his room was wide open, warm light pouring out, his shadow flickering back and forth across the ceiling.

Stepping on unbroken tiles or patches where tiles were simply no more, Marian made her way to the staircase on the right, climbing each step one at a time with caution. The elf had more precise hearing than she did, and unless he was thoroughly distracted, he'd be able to hear her at any moment. Still, she was more concerned that he'd hear the pounding of her heart rather than her boot scraping a tile.

She climbed to the top floor without hearing his voice calling out to her, thought he singing grew louder the closer she got to his room. She slipped around the banister, ducking to the side where Fenris wouldn't be able to see before she ducked her head to peer through into the room. Beyond the doorway, under the light of fire, Marian stared upon a sight she'd never thought to see in her wildest dreams.

Fenris, usually adorned in his armor with his sword either strapped across his back or, at least, close at hand, was stripped down to his leggings and a cream-colored shirt that clung to his skin, the white-lyrium markings faintly glowing through the fabric. His green eyes were shut, face relaxed as he spun in circles, feet carrying him gracefully around the room as he moved like a ribbon tossed into the wind. Arms extended, hands relaxed, fingers long and elegant, and Marian watched in awe as the elf danced about the room, aware of every piece of furniture, of every broken tile and sparking ember that popped from the fireplace.

Maker, she thought, unable to tear her eyes away as Fenris spun in a circle before bringing his arms up in front of him, as if to rejoin with an invisible partner, he is a beautiful sight. Fenris, no more than a few feet from her, swayed gently back and forth with his invisible lady-friend, before stretching his arms as if to spin her away.

As if watching Fenris dance wasn't beautiful enough, Marian watched as the elf opened his mouth, her heart nearly forcing its way from her chest through her throat as he began to sing. Soft, pure and warm, like a gentle summer's day or a shred of sweet chocolate on her tongue. Her eyes fluttered shut as he sang in a language she couldn't hope to understand. Not that it mattered, the barrier didn't detract from the beauty.

She opened her eyes as Fenris sang louder, spinning in circles, the sleeves of his shirt rippling lightly as his hair tossed around his face. She dared a step further, into the doorway where she leaned into the framework, watching the elf dance and sing in a way that she had never even known before. Her heart stuttered sporadically and she wondered whether or not she would pass to stand beside the Maker. Maker willing, she would do it happily if this was her last sight.

She must have made a noise, or perhaps her heart had been louder than she originally thought, for Fenris stopped suddenly, his back to her as his arms dropped. She stood motionless, heart thudding in her ears as the elf turned his head towards the fire, and she could barely make out his profile, watching his lips as he spoke.

"Hello, Hawke," her cheeks burned as she cursed in her thoughts, pushing away from the doorway. "How are you this evening?"

How can he be so nonchalant? Hawke questioned softly as she stepped into the room. Fenris turned towards her, and she blinked in surprise as she saw the same red taint filling his own cheeks and the tips of his elongated ears. She smiled a little, tilting her head to the side. "You never told me you were a dancer. But it certainly explains your grace in battle."

"My grace in battle?" Fenris mused, eyes sparkling in the light. "I've…never been told that I had grace in killing others, but I'll take it as a compliment. Thank you."

"You're avoiding the subject at hand, Fenris," Marian pressed after a moment, stepping closer. "Why didn't you tell me you danced?" Fenris' face flamed brighter, and he looked away into the fireplace beside them.

"I… When I was in Tevinter, Danarius would host these grand parties for other magisters and friends. I would serve them wine, as you remember, but for the most part, I would kneel at Danarius' side and observe as others mingled with one another, chatting about their own slaves, their own magic, before they would…" He trailed off and Hawke waited for a moment.

"Would what?"

"Dance. And I remember that it.. looked so freeing, dancing. To move one's body in such ways, to float across the floor in the arms of another. It looked like nothing else I'd ever seen. Danarius laughed at me when I asked him about it and told me that slaves do not dance, they serve. But I could never fully push away the thoughts, the desires, to dance like those other magisters did…"

"So you never learned? Then how can you dance so..beautifully?" Fenris smiled faintly.

"I kept to memory what I saw, the way the moves were performed, the steps they took. After I escaped, the only solace I found for a long while was to dance, to close my eyes and simply.. let go as best I could. The first time, I fumbled and fell about like a fool, but it felt… wonderful." Hawke smiled warmly at the elf before a thought occurred.

"You've only danced alone?" Fenris nodded sheepishly. "Why?"

"I've..never been close enough with anyone to share that sense of freedom with," Fenris commented, and Hawke felt like stone as he stepped closer to her, his eyes burning into her own as he reached out a little, touching her hand. "But… That has changed for me… Dance with me, Hawke?"

Marian nodded once without hesitation, unclasping her swords and the satchel from her back before taking Fenris' hands. He led her to the center of the room, soft green eyes bearing into her own as he held one of her hands in his own, the other slipping around her waist. She pressed as close as she allowed herself without the fear of making him uncomfortable, her free hand resting gently over his shoulder.

They swayed back and forth, Fenris' soft humming serving as their music to keep time and rhythm. Occasionally he would step out to spin her in a small circle, or push her out just to pull her in again, her back to his chest. All the while she smiled, laughing now and then as he held her close, hands warm and soft, arms open and inviting. She pressed into him, her head tucked beneath his chin as he wound his arm tighter around her, her own shifting, her palm curled around the back of his neck, her fingers playing with his hair.

She stayed in his arms for a long while, all thoughts of the book in her satchel forgotten as she swayed with him, listening to the sound of his voice, the sound of his heart, and how it was like a drum beat beneath the tremble of his vibrato. She relaxed heavily into him, a small smile playing at her lips before she felt his hand slip away from her lower back before coming up to her cheek. He lifted her head slowly, and she waited for a moment before feeling his lips press to hers, soft and warm.

Marian moaned quietly, barely under the soft breath that she let out as she kissed him back, her fingers curling into Fenris' hair on the back of his neck. He held her there for a moment before pulling back slowly, and she whined in displeasure. Fenris chuckled softly, his fingertips caressing her cheek.

"It's late, and as I recall, you have a busy day tomorrow.." he told her, and she sighed, leaning into his touch.

"Yes, I do… You know I just love playing messenger between the Arishok and the Viscount," Fenris laughed again.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why did you come so late if you knew you had duties for tomorrow?" Marian's eyes fluttered open and she met the elf's gaze.

"Because I have something for you…" She remembered with an embarrassed smile before pulling out of his arms, going to her discarded satchel on the floor. Flipping open the flap, she retrieved the book from within, dusting it off some before turning and handing it to Fenris. She watched as he stared at it, as if confused.

"I-It's a…book…" He stammered, hesitant.

"It's a subject you're familiar with. The book is by Shartan, the elf who helped Adraste free the slaves. You know about him, right?" Marian said.

Fenris hesitated again. "A..a little, it's just… Slaves are not permitted to read. I've never learned." Marian felt her heart hit a brick wall, but the words that tumbled from her lips had saved her mishap.

"It's not too late to learn, Fenris," she offered, smiling some.

Fenris raised an eyebrow, "Isn't it? Sometimes I wonder… I don't mean to seem ungrateful, I do appreciate the thought. I've always wanted to learn more of Shartan, perhaps this is my chance."

Marian smiled more, stepping a little closer to him again. "I'd be happy to teach you, if you'd like?" The smile that touched Fenris' lips left her feeling reassured.

"I'd like that, thank you, Hawke."