AN: Just something I wrote during a particularly boring class the other day. I hope you enjoy ;)

A bit AU regarding the timeline with a few spoilers.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or the characters. They are the property of Bioware.

BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE

Chapter 1

Fenris entered the Hanged Man with his shoulders tensed and his expression hooded. He really didn't want to be there, but Hawke insisted on weekly strategy meetings and there were dire consequences for those that missed them. He'd already missed the last three and when he'd gotten home after his last mercenary job, a rather threatening letter was waiting for him.

As if I need another reason for her to be angry with me, he mused as he scanned the already crowded tavern for any sign of Hawke's flaxen hair. When he saw that she was not yet there, he retreated into the dark corner to wait with a glass of what the Hanged Man deemed to be wine.

He was the first to arrive, even though he'd left half an hour late so that he wouldn't be. He needed distraction to keep his thoughts occupied, which of course meant that the first thing he thought about was the last thing he wanted to think about.

Her small hand trails over his lyrium markings on his arm and he jerks away, not out of pain, but out of habit at being touched. To his shock, her gentle touch doesn't leave pain in its wake, like Hadriana's had, but instead leaves him wanting more. He refuses to meet her gaze, instead focussing on the pattern of the flagstone floor of Hawke's foyer.

"Did I hurt you?" she asks, her tone laced with concern and he feels anger flaring up in his veins. She shouldn't be concerned about him. She was a mage. She knew he hated her kind and her curse. Why would she try to comfort him?

"Fenris." Her voice is light as she puts a finger under his chin and lifts it so that his eyes meet her sapphire orbs. "Please, tell me what's wrong." He can't help but notice the thin scar on her upper lip and he has to stop himself from leaning down to capture her lips with his. Instead, he merely shakes his head, not trusting himself not to say something he shouldn't.

Her hands drop from his face and he has to restrain himself from grabbing her hand to feel her touch again. "That's alright. You're welcome to just sit here if you want. We don't need to talk," she says as she sits down on the bench. "I'm just so glad I found you. I didn't know where you disappeared to. I was concerned."

"I thought we didn't need to talk," he growls as he sits down next to her. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpses a small smile on her lips at his words.

"Good. I thought Hadriana had somehow rendered you mute. What a waste that would be," she says in her usual joking tone. At the mention of that woman's name, he feels that familiar hate boiling up, just to remember that's she is dead. This, for some inexplicable reason angered him even further.

"I've been thinking about what happened with Hadriana…" he starts, but stops himself. Does he really want to bare his thoughts to this woman? This woman who has somehow, despite her magic, managed to haunt his every dream for the past couple of years? "I know we don't always agree on everything, but you didn't deserve my anger. I apologize," he settles for saying.

"Oh, don't worry about it. You've yelled, I've yelled and neither of us has died yet. I promise you it's not going to end now," she said flippantly, but he hears a sincere acceptance in her words. "I appreciate that you can tell me what you think of me, Fenris. If it wasn't for you, my head would be bigger than it already is. Besides, you're my friend. I can't stay angry forever."

Before he can stop himself, he hears himself telling her about Hadriana's treatment and torture in Danarius's ownership. He doesn't meet her eyes out of fear of what he might see in them. Pity? Anger at the magisters? He doesn't have the strength to face it.

"Did you really have to kill her? You gave your word, Fenris," she says when his monologue ends.

"The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now…I couldn't let her go. I wanted to, but I couldn't." He lets out a dry bark of laughter. "It's sad when you find out that your intentions aren't as noble as you'd like to believe."

"Then I'm glad she's dead." He looks at her in shock. He would have expected a reprimand about killing another mage or a lecture about letting go of his anger.

"You are?"

Blue irises burn into his. "She has caused you so much pain, Fenris. A person that can do that another doesn't deserve to live." A soft hand hesitantly grasps his and for once, he doesn't pull away. "It's partly her fault that you hate me, isn't it?"

Another flash of anger flares up at her words and he tears his hand out of hers and leaps to his feet. "She is living proof of what your kind is capable of! I watch you daily as you burn and electrocute men to death. When will that be enough power! How can I be sure that you won't give in to the demons for more power?"

As he says these words, he knows that he's lying. He knows Hawke is strong enough to withstand temptation. He knows how much she hates blood magic and that she would die before making a deal with a demon. He is merely too afraid to admit that he doesn't hate her as other mages. That what he feels when he sees her and feels her touch is as far from hate as he can possibly get.

A hurt expression crosses over her face, but it's quickly replaced with anger. "Stop being so fading stubborn, Fenris! When will you realise that not all mages are like Hadriana or Danarius or any other blood mage for that matter? Haven't I shown you that not all mages are that weak? When will you understand that! You've let a couple of bad experiences cloud your entire being and let them turn you into this hateful, revenge driven person!"

Once again, she moves to place her hand on his arm, but he moves out of the way. "You are more than this, Fenris," she whispers.

"And what would you have me do? I have never had the option to simply walk away! Am I supposed to forgive, no matter how many times they hunt me down? Am I supposed to forget all the things they've done to me?" he sneers, trying to reign in his anger.

She fixed him with those infuriating, intoxicating eyes. "If you are wondering why you can't move on, this is it."

Another dark chuckle falls from his lips. "Yes. This is it. Why can I not grasp something so simple?" he sneers, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

He stares down at his hands, the gauntlets still covered with Hadriana's blood. It had felt so right to kill her, but now he hates her even more for still leaving him with this clogging feeling of repulsion in his chest. He thought that it would go away if she died, but it was still there.

"It's a sickness, this hate. This dark growth inside me that I can't ever get rid of…and they put it there!" he cries, his hands clawing into fists.

Suddenly, it was as if all the fury left his body. He'd come here to apologize, not have a shouting match with Hawke. They might not always agree, but he had come to respect the petite, blond mage and they considered themselves friends before the slavers attacked them. He couldn't admit it to her, but he was so filled with fear that the slavers would capture the tiny mage that he'd gone into a frenzy in an attempt to save her. He couldn't let them hurt her, just like he couldn't let any other kind of harm come to her.

He couldn't explain why he felt this way. Hawke isn't an angelic beauty like some of the other women he's seen around Kirkwall. Her nose had been broken one too many times, her front teeth were slightly crooked and her hair had a tendency to frizz out of control. Despite this, there was nothing more beautiful to him than her unreserved smile or the way her eyes always sparkled or the way her personality shone in everything that she did.

He hates Hawke for making him feel this way. He hates her for making him jealous of the looks men give her. He hates her for taking an actual interest in his life and taking the time to listen to his rants, even joining in when he throws things around. He hates her for showing up at his stolen mansion, book under the arm, insistent that she is going to teach him how to read. He hates her for the way she'd crept into his heart and made him feel like a real person. He hates her for making him love her.

Why couldn't he just say what he wanted to say?

He has to get out of there.

"But this is not why I came here. I need to go," he says and turns to leave.

"Don't go." The plea was barely a whisper, but he hears every bit of emotion in the words.

He feels his lyrium markings flare up as he whirls around and presses her against the wall, his lips hungrily searching out hers. She returns the kiss with enthusiasm and her tongue begs for entrance into his mouth. He happily obliges and their tongues meet in a fight for dominance as her hands wring in his hair.

With an animalistic growl, his hands grip her hips and lift her so that her legs can wrap around his waist. As they stumble to the bedroom, armour flying in every direction, Fenris can't help but wonder if it's nothing more than another dream, but the sharp nip at his ear reminds him that she is indeed real.

When they finally make it to her bedchamber, he throws her onto the huge mattress, wasting no time to crawl over her. His still gauntleted hand catches on her skirt and a piece of blood red fabric tears from the clothing article. His removes the offending piece of armor with another growl, while the woman on the bed merely laughs at him. He silenced her with another searing kiss as his hands roam over her body and his tongue plunders her mouth. A low moan sound from her throat as his hands…

"Fenris! Hellooo? Is anybody there?"

Fenris jerked out of the memory with a start at the sound of Isabela's drawl from across the room and a scowl crossed his face. Under normal circumstances he liked the pirate, but that night he was in no mood for her innuendos and jokes. He just wanted to get the meeting over and done with so that he could go to bed. With any luck, some idiot will try to break in again and I'll get to vent this unwanted…feelings.

Ignoring the snickering pirate, he marched over to where the rest of their motley crew was gathered. Varric and the blood mage were deep in conversation, while Aveline looked slightly bored as she read over what seemed to be reports. The Prince of Starkhaven was also there and was having an animate discussion with Isabela. The abomination and Hawke were still absent.

"So, Fenris…I heard you finally flipped Hawke ass over tits and hammered her like a bent nail. Good on you," Isabela said as he approached the table. Fenris felt a blush creep up his neck as Sebastian spat out the mouthful of water he was drinking and Merrill looked at him with huge eyes.

"Um, is that something dirty again?" she asked, looking at Varric for assistance. Varric stifled a laugh and took another swig of ale.

"It means they slept together, Daisy."

"Oh." The blood mage tilted her head in thought. "Is that why he disappeared for three weeks?"

"It seems that was the case, Kitten. But why is that, Fenris?" Isabela had a predatory grin on her lips and Fenris so wanted to wipe that smirk off her face.

"It has nothing to do with you," he seethed, taking a deep swig of his wine. This might go down a lot easier if he was drunk.

"He's right. It's between him and Hawke, whore. Drop it," Aveline interrupted sharply. Fenris shot her a grateful look and she returned it with a curt nod. He knew the guard captain was probably furious with him, but that didn't mean that she would allow Hawke to be humiliated.

Isabela was just about to make another remark when the door swung open. Hawke entered the tavern with Anders on her heels, both laughing. Fenris couldn't help but feel a familiar stab of jealousy at the way the abomination kept touching her hand or shoulder.

When they finally sat down, Anders draped a loose arm around the back of Hawke's chair, deliberately shooting Fenris a smug smile. Fenris dropped his gaze to the scarred table top, trying not to snap. You had your chance and you blew it. She's not yours, he reprimanded himself, but he still couldn't bring himself to meet Hawke's eyes.

"I'm glad to welcome Fenris back after an extended leave of absence," she said in a joking tone, but he could see that her smile was forced. Well, she has obviously not forgiven me, he thought and he felt a pang of guilt at causing her pain. That was never my intent.

"So…what do we have to do this week?" Hawke pointedly ignored Fenris as she chatted with their other companions. Fenris silently seethed as the abomination kept touching her and making jokes to the point that he completely blocked out the other voices around him.

Finally, after he couldn't endure any more of the two mages, Hawke mercifully declared the meeting adjourned. Those with nothing better to do kept drinking, but Sebastian and Aveline started for the door, with Fenris following close behind. As he reached the door, he couldn't help but glance in the petite mages direction one last time. Hawke was smiling and laughing with Anders, looking happier than she's looked in weeks.

As if you would know, he growled at himself as he pulled the rickety door close behind him. If he makes her happier than I did, who am I to stand in their way?

Fenris continued to avoid Hawke as much as possible and to her credit, she didn't exactly seek him out. He decided that it was safe to assume that she wanted nothing to do with him.

Despite this, he missed her. He missed walking into his mansion to find her sitting in his room, reading a book from the study's vast collection as if she owned the place. He missed her jokes and the way that she was the only one that could pry a smile out of him. He missed the way her face would light up when she mastered a new spell or discovered some new tunnel that was just begging to be explored (her words).

There was nothing in his life that he regretted more than walking away from her.

oOoOoOo

Weeks changed into months and winter settled over Kirkwall. Though he wasn't going on as many jobs as usual, he still saw their group occasionally and he surmised that Hawke and Anders had indeed become closer to the point that they were almost inseparable.

One day, when Kirkwall was gripped in an unexpected storm, Fenris rushed home from the marketplace to get out of the pouring sleet. He was so focussed on getting dry and warm that he barely noticed another presence in the room until she lightly cleared her throat.

"Hi," Hawke said in a slightly embarrassed tone as she sat perched in her usual spot in front of the fireplace. "I'm sorry to just barge in here, but my mother is entertaining guests and I didn't have the energy to deal with pompous noblemen."

Fenris took a moment to make sure that he wasn't dreaming and that she really was there. "Hawke," he replied hesitantly, taking a step closer. "It's…it's alright." When he took in her slightly rain-soaked appearance, he couldn't help but notice something off.

"Are you wearing a dress?" he asked in shock, his own soaked clothing forgotten. The wet crimson material fanned around her like a giant flower petal and the rain had plastered her hair to her forehead, which was starting to dry in a frizzy cloud of blond. Her kohl-lined eyes were smudged and a single line of black ran down her cheek.

Even despite the admittedly hilarious appearance, she was still absolutely breathtaking.

The mage looked down in amusement before attempting to blow a wet strand of hair out of her blue eyes. "My mother…seems to believe that I need to find a husband and settle down. That, apparently, includes wearing this stupid garment." She let out a frustrated groan. "I look like some prissy Orlesian lady. That got drenched by twenty thousand buckets of water," she added quickly.

"I…I think you look quite nice," he said finally. To say that the exchange was awkward was an understatement, but Fenris was just glad that she was finally speaking to him that he didn't question it overly much.

And she did look more…feminine, which wasn't a bad thing at all. Even though she could kill with a single thought, it was nice to see her look like a lady, even if it was a bedraggled, very unkempt lady.

Hawke gave a very unladylike snort. "Nice? Well…thanks. But if a nobleman saw me now, he'd run in the opposite direction." Her gaze burned as it ran over his body and her expression became concerned. "You're freezing! Come on, let's get you dry."

"That's not necessary," he tried to protest, but she was already removing his armour.

"It's not anything I haven't seen before," she said and he could hear the slightly bitter hint in her voice. "Sorry, that was insensitive."

"It's alright. Listen, Hawke-" he began, but she cut him off by holding up her hand.

"Don't," she whispered. Her hands settled on his almost bare arm, playing with the crimson favour he still wore. A sad smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "You kept this."

"A knight always keeps his lady's favour," he replied, his gaze not leaving hers.

"Don't you find it slightly strange to be running around with a piece of skirt tied to your gauntlet?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Not very common for a knight."

A humourless chuckle sounded in his throat. "I don't think there's anything about me that makes me your normal run-of-the-mill knight."

"You are more of a knight than any man I've ever met," she replied, her serious tone unusual enough to make him look at her with surprise. Then her usual smirk spread over her lips. "I mean, just look at your armour," she added quickly, obviously trying to deflect.

"I'm sorry." The words were so soft that he thought that maybe she missed them as she continued with her task undeterred. "I…" He didn't know what to say. Part of him was too stubborn to admit that what he did was a mistake, but another was afraid of her rejecting him.

A small sigh escaped her. "Let's just forget about it, okay? We might not always have agreed and you might have thought that I was going to burst into an abomination at any time and I might have thought that you were an arse sometimes, but you were my friend." Her piercing blue eyes met his. "I'd like it if we could…go back to that."

"I'd like that too," came his soft reply. The tiny mage shot him a bright smile before resuming with removing his armour.

Though they haven't spoken to each other for quite a while, it was so simple to fall back into their old relationship once the elephant in the room had been dealt with.

After they settled in front of the fire, both dressed in more comfortable tunics and leggings, it was as if nothing had ever happened between them. But as much as it felt as if nothing had happened, Fenris couldn't deny that everything has changed.

Even though he was thrilled to have her there with him, he couldn't rid his mind of the question that was burning to be asked.

"Hawke, why are you here and not in Darktown?" With the abomination, he added silently.

She seemed to study her hands for a long while. "What's in Darktown?" she answered finally, not meeting his gaze.

"You know, Hope." He used her first name intentionally in an attempt to get her to stop joking around.

"You were closer?" The mage still refused to look him in the eye. In all likeliness, she knew that he would be upset about her and the abomination's relationship and decided that denying it was the best option.

He gave a frustrated sigh. "Yes, I am, but before today, we've barely spoken to each other."

"In all honesty? I didn't have the energy for Anders and his "free the mages" rants today. Justice is PMS-ing and he's not the one I'm in lo- friends with, so I don't see the point in spending time with him if he's like that."

Fenris couldn't miss the slip and he felt his heart sink. She's in love?

"I'm making you uncomfortable, aren't I? I'd better go," she said, starting to get to her feet, but he grabbed her hand, feeling the rush of electricity as his skin touched hers.

Fenris stared into her clear azure eyes. "Please, don't leave," he pled softly, the parallel of the night they'd spent together not escaping him.

And just like that night, she stayed.