"Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms; my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her." – Pablo Neruda

"I love you," Hawke said with a smile, brushing her nose against his playfully. The warmth of her flesh against Fenris' own, as well as the heat of her breath was intoxicating. The dance of her touch over him enticed the elf to come closer even while there was no distance between them left to cover. "You know that, right?"

Fenris placated his forehead against Hawke's and encircled his arms around her thin frame, electricity dancing with anticipation through his fingertips as he did so.

"I have never forgotten," he admitted with chaste honesty while drinking the feel of her skin against his, "but it does not hurt to be told so occasionally." The proximity of her body was causing desire to flush up within him and he was glad for the privacy their surroundings currently offered them.

Hawke's mirth flew lightly into his ear and the sound both soothed and encouraged the elf onward. He moved in closer, now allowing his hands to trickle down toward her shapely hips that swelled with the bulge of well formed muscles, a few of which he'd delighted in testing in recent years. Maker, she was beautiful, and for reasons he had not yet begun to fathom, she had decided to be his.

All the long nights of fear and anger he had lived until this moment had been deemed worthwhile to now stand beside this woman, not only as a friend but as a lover, and somehow happiness he had never known existed had been made his upon this happening.

Leaning into Hawke, Fenris drank of her lips and her scent as he kissed her deeply. His passions roused once more but from a darker longing, with a ravenous need that surprised and intoxicated him, as though he were drunk on an empty stomach.

When they had finished, though Fenris was never truly done of moments such as this, he could not help but be overcome with a great unease. Hawke felt strangely hollow within his grasp, and her still eyes seemed to brim with a sorrow the elf had not noticed before. His gaze settled on her for some time while he took to brushing away her hair, fussing over the wrinkles of her robes, anything that he might not break his touch from her for she seemed as intangible and impermanent as the strange yellow sky and the shifting green earth beneath his feet.

"Something wrong, Fenris?"

"No," he replied slowly, an obvious lie, but he didn't know what else to say. His gaze came back around to meet her own and he saw her laden still with unfamiliar forlornness. It gave the elf knots in his stomach to see but not understand her heart.

"You are a poor liar."

He smiled deviously as he let his hands slip away from her hips, one now rested behind her head and another around her waste at the small of her back, closing what remaining space was now between them, which had been little, if any.

"Where were we?" He attempted to change the subject. Leaning in he peppered the exposed flesh at her neck and jawline with kisses. Her squirming and the heat of her skin aroused him greatly as she playfully attempted to beat him back. He laughed in her ear, the sensation inciting a high laugh from her and a poor display of fake disapproval at how it tickled. Fenris delighted in every moment, but when she calmed and peered into his eyes he noticed the same lingering expression once more, having never left the heaviness of her countenance.

"Something troubles you?"

Hawke smiled and twisted herself up into him.

"No."

Sighing, Fenris rested his chin upon her head and wrapped his arms around her back.

"You are a poorer liar than I."

Her laughter rumbled in her chest and moved into his with a delightful flurry. Fenris could not help but enjoy the sensation, yet his current priorities had changed at having noticed the shift in Hawke's demeanor. "What is it?" he asked.

Hawke seemed almost ready to respond when a noise, strange and displaced, startled them both. It did not fully shake him from his concentration however, and he was able to dismiss it almost entirely as he peered around in confusion. Hawke's arms tightened around him, duty filled and purposeful with the grip of someone about to lose all they have left.

"We are running out of time."

This strange statement brought the elf's attention back to the woman in his arms.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I am," she corrected and lifted her head to stare steadily back at Fenris. Though they were nearly the same height (elves standardly being shorter than humans) Hawke's gaze still had to dance slightly upward to meet his eyes. When it did so was when Fenris recognized the emotion in them, it was fear. "I'm not ready, but it seems I have no choice."

"Ready for what?" Fenris asked, his heartbeat quickening. The displaced noise resounded again, and this time it made him slightly dizzy. Hawke grasped him tightly and took his face in hers hands, her expression had changed from fearful to near manic now, inciting a similar reaction within the elf. "What is wrong, Marian?"

Her first name. He only used it on rare occasions, and now was as strange a time as any. The world around him seemed to sway as they held each other's gaze, and for a second Hawke herself seemed remote and untouchable, but the instant faded and Fenris was simply left with his eyes locked with hers.

"I must go," she said. Her voice was laden with a grief he could not even begin to perceive, nor could he say when it had gotten there. "I should not even be here, but I had to tell you one last time."

The knock came again. A knock! That was what it was! But there was no door in sight. Where in the Maker's name was that sound coming from?

"Tell me what?" Fenris said, his voice flushed with panic, but at that moment his eyes cracked open. The warmth of his lover was gone, replaced with the harsh realness of the cold air of his secluded inn room, and the harsher reality of an empty bed. The offending knock was coming from his door with an added swiftness each time it went unanswered.

A dream. The Fade was merely displaying its cruelty by bringing him Hawke in his dreams.

She had not been with him for several weeks now, a fact that he remembered with increasing bitterness. He had awoken to find an empty bed, much like this morning, and a letter laden with apologies and reassurances that she would return. Fenris had not doubted her, but had been awash with fear and anger that she had felt the need to leave him behind to assist a friend. Whatever it had been, Fenris knew only that he must find her, regardless of her intentions to keep him safe by keeping him away. He had promised her once that nothing would keep them apart, and he had meant it.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming!" The elf hissed, wrapping himself in the blanket that was knotted along his bedside. The knocking ceased and Fenris soon found himself face to face with a strangely dressed man. His uniform was orange and green, trimmed with silver and gold. He wore upon his breast a strange crest, that of an eye with a sword piercing it through the middle, and framed in the flames of the sun. "What do you want?" he spat, unimpressed with the man's garb or air of importance.

"Are you Fenris of Tevinter?"

The elf, still drowsy and slightly hung over from his unusually pleasant dreams, grit his teeth at having been associated with the land that had once held his chains.

"I am Fenris," he replied with some undue harshness, "what is it you want?"

"A letter sir," the man stated, handing over an envelope closed with a seal that matched the crest he wore. "From one Varric Tethras, of the Inquisition."

"Inquisition?" Fenris muttered in confusion. He glanced the envelope over back and forth. Aside from the seal, it had no identifying marks.

"Aye, sir," was all the courier said. Fenris paid the man in silvers and closed the door eyeing the parcel with some hesitation. Why Varric of all people would be writing to him, Fenris was unsure, but he was fairly certain that the mysterious reason Hawke had disappeared had something to do with the dwarf. It made the most sense, as other than her brother, Varric was probably the only person in all of Thedas that could beckon Hawke away from his side so easily. Their friendship was deep and long running, longer than Fenris' and hers, and so the elf could not fault Hawke's loyalty, but why the letter then was from the dwarf himself and not Hawke gave him a moment's pause.

Quickly, Fenris washed and dressed, wanting to be ready to leave at a moment's notice when he was able to find where this Inquisition, Varric, and more importantly, Hawke might he holed up. But the letter did not contain the message he thought it would.

The elf read, with careful deliberation, and then reread to make sure that he understood properly. While he was adept at reading now, with many thanks towards Hawke's efforts, Fenris was certain that he had misread much of what was contained therein. Slowly…carefully…the elf read the letter out loud while slumped over the edge of his bed:

Fenris,

If the Maker exists, this letter will find you before anything else does – because I do not want you to hear it from anyone but myself.

As I'm sure you now know, Hawke slipped away from you under the guise of helping an old friend, and if you haven't guessed by now, I was that friend. I'm sorry but I had told her to keep her intentions secret, and it seems she managed to do so even from you – but it is not without good cause.

The Inquisition, which you may or may not know of by now, was in great need of her help. I am sure you will be unsurprised to read that Hawke proved herself to once again be a great asset; her efforts have saved Thedas as much as they once saved Kirkwall all those years ago.

I wish I could tell you that was the end of it, Fenris. I wish I could tell you that Hawke is on her way back to you and that you will see her soon, safe and sound, but she isn't. The truth is that Hawke's service to the Inquisition cost her her life, and no one more than I regrets that fact, save perhaps you, who loved her the one way I never could. I can offer you the comfort that her death was quick and likely painless, and that the Inquisition will honor her sacrifice in all the ways it is deserved.

If this is not enough, Fenris, as I am sure it is not, I invite you to come and find me. We are at Skyhold in the Frostback Mountains, a lost elven fortress just south of what was once Haven. You need not storm the walls; I have informed the guard of your potential arrival. If you need to know more, or simply seek revenge, I will be waiting, and I do not have it in my heart to fight back after everything I have failed at doing to keep her safe.

Enclosed is a letter she wished me to send to you in the event of her death. Please take her words to heart. She loved you, more than even I can put into words. I hope you will not bare her ill will. She died saving all of us, and deserves all of the affection that is afforded to her for it.

Yours,

Varric Tethras

Fenris did not realize until a few seconds of mind numbing silence that his hands were shaking well before he spoke aloud the final words of the dwarf's letter. It was the only reaction his body had mustered currently as the rest of him was somewhere between shock and outright denial of the words he was reading. He pleaded with the Maker, Andraste, even the elven gods of old that this was a mistake. His beloved was not dead, she could not be!

Perhaps the truth was in the letter written in her own hand. With growing fervor Fenris cast Varric's aside and hastily tore open the smaller envelope, gripping the painfully short note in his hands so tightly that the page ends began to tear in his grip. He slid down the bedside, tears and sobs wracking his lithe elven frame as he read:

My Dearest Fenris,

I hate so much that I must say this to you in writing, but if this letter has found you, there is no longer any other way for me to say it.

I regret to inform you that I will not be returning home, my love, though I assure you it is not by choice. Please do not be angry with Varric, or the Inquisition. They have done so much work, so much good that all sacrifices made in their name are worthwhile in the end, including my own. Perhaps you cannot see that now, but I hope in time that will change.

If you cannot forgive me, love, I hope you can at least move on and find happiness elsewhere. I hope that one day you will understand if you cannot now, and perhaps think back on all the days before today without regret.

Please believe me when I say I love you with all my heart. Thank you for giving me a reason to fight, and something worth dying for.

Forever yours,

Marian Hawke

"She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.

How could one not have loved her great still eyes?

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her.

To feel that I have lost her; To hear the immense night,

still more immense without her." – Pablo Neruda