"And Shartan said, 'It was my dream for the... the people to have a- a home of their... own? Where we would have no... masters but our- ourselves.'" Fenris said slowly, squinting at the page of the open book in front of him. Hawke sat cross-legged by his side in front of the fireplace in his bedroom, one arm hooked casually around Fenris as the elf struggled through a new passage of the Book of Shartan for the first time, without Hawke reading it for him first.

Turning his head to brush the tip of his nose against Fenris's ear, Hawke smiled. "You've really got it now. I'm proud of you."

Fenris huffed and gave Hawke an unimpressed look. "You're humouring me. Or mocking me. I can't tell which, nor do I know which I'd prefer."

"I'm doing neither," Hawke laughed, lifting his hand from Fenris' hip to stroke his hair briefly. "You're doing great. You stammer a bit still when you read out loud, but your pace is good for the most part. Just read something - anything - whenever you get the chance. Your main problem is your confidence but the more you practice, the more it will grow."

"I have confidence enough," Fenris replied, with a frown.

Hawke nodded. "Of course you do. When you're hitting things. You're still a little shaky with your reading though, whether you want to admit it or not-" Fenris opened his mouth to argue but Hawke quickly placed two fingers over his lips to silence him. The look of outrage on his face was delightful. "If it makes you feel better, I still can't pick up your sword without my arms crying in protest."

Still sullen, but slowly coming around, Fenris managed a small smile. "Very well. I suppose stammering when I read is less pathetic than holding the title of 'Champion of Kirkwall' and not being able to carry a blade."

"That's the spirit," Hawke said chipperly, giving Fenris a playful little punch in the arm, before suddenly scowling. "And for the record, I can carry little blades."

"I'll pretend to be impressed to spare your pride," Fenris said, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. Before Hawke could even pretend to be offended, however, there was a knock at the bedroom door and a soft, slightly awkward cough. They both recognised the voice immediately, and when Hawke turned his head to look at Anders, Fenris turned away to stare irritably at the book.

Anders shifted his weight uncertainly before pulling himself together. "I'm sorry Hawke, I don't mean to intrude-"

"Its fine, Anders. We were just reading."

There was a considerable pause. "Both of you?" Anders asked, glancing at Fenris out of the corner of his eye. There was a faint undercurrent of snideness to his tone, and Fenris picked up on it. He huffed angrily and Hawke touched his hand as subtley as he could to calm him. It worked but only barely and Hawke braced himself for any coming arguments. Maker knows Anders and Fenris couldn't be in the same room for long without bickering. It certainly made their adventures... memorable. For all the wrong reasons.

Turning back to Anders, he gave the other mage a gently scolding glare in warning. "Is something wrong, Anders?" Hawke asked quickly, trying to head any arguments off before they could take root.

"I was hoping to talk to you about something." He glanced at Fenris. "In private." Hawke picked up on the edge of nervousness in his tone, and he wasn't the only one. Like the predator he arguably was, Fenris turned to look at Anders, leaning into Hawke heavily as he did so. Apparently nothing short of outright plastering himself to Hawke's side was enough right now to satisfy Fenris' need to remind Anders he'd missed his chance.

"I can't imagine what you have to say to him that you won't say with me here," he said, his tone rippling with unspoken accusations. "You've never had any trouble speaking of your reckless crusade in my presence before."

Anders folded his arms and looked away. "It's personal."

Already knowing what conclusion he would draw from that, Hawke squeezed Fenris's shoulders reassuringly and stood up, aiming to get Anders out of the room and away from Fenris before an argument broke out. "Alright, you just... keep reading, Fenris. I'll be right back." The look Fenris gave him in response was... icy to say the least, but Hawke shrugged helplessly. It was hard being stuck between his lover and his closest friend, but he needed to make time for each. As he walked out of the room with Anders, he silently hoped Fenris wouldn't be too angry at him. That man could hold grudges like no one he'd ever seen before.

Padding down the stairs beside Anders and ushering him into the study, Hawke forced an awkward little smile as he watched Anders walk over to fireplace and stare up at the statue above it. "Listen, I know you two don't get along... at all. Ever. But I would really appreciate it if you could try to, I don't know, goad him less? I'm having a hard enough time as it is talking him into at least tolerating our way of thinking. I'm not asking you to like him, but just... please. As a favour to me.

Anders didn't look away from the statue immediately. Instead he raised his shoulders slightly, the feathers ruffling a little at the movement. "I do try, Hawke. I don't mean to make things difficult for you." He turned his gaze to Hawke. "He's just frustrating. Surely even you can see what a hypocrite he is."

"I know what you're saying," Hawke said, raising his hands placatingly and crossing the distance between them. "I do, but... I suppose I can see where he's coming from. You have to admit that from where he's standing, what you're aiming for-" Anders winced, "-what we're aiming for does seem a lot like it could lead to another Imperium. I understand why that would frighten him and why he'd oppose it."

"But you don't agree with him, do you?" Anders asked. His tone was so desperate for support that it broke Hawke's heart a little. He moved closer to his friend and placed his hands on his shoulders.

"No, I don't. I see where he's coming from, and I understand his reasons for thinking the way he does but... I can't stand by and let one injustice continue on the off-chance that stopping it might someday lead to a different injustice." He smiled crookedly and gave a lopsided shrug. "If I thought like that, I'd never get anything done."

Anders blinked, then laughed sheepishly, glancing down at the floor between them and shuffling his feet. "Good. I'm glad. Sometimes..." He nibbled his lower lip and glanced into the fire. "Sometimes I think you're the only thing keeping me sane. I don't think I could do this without your support."

"Well, that's not something you need to worry about," Hawke said, softly. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise, you can always rely on me to keep you from losing yourself."

Lifting his eyes to meet Hawke's, Anders smiled, but it wasn't a happy expression. He lifted his hand and settled it momentarily over the one of Hawke's that still rested on his shoulder. Hawke's skin prickled as a sudden rush of uneasiness broke over him.

"If I'm not already lost."