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Part Three

Once Varric and Aveline returned with their respective charges in tow, Hawke and Fenris set off to inform the Arishok. The aftermath was out of her hands, now, and she did not envy the Viscount. Telling the Arishok what happened was her duty, but the Viscount was in charge of what happened afterwards: diplomacy and damage control—her versions of which usually involved a throwing knife and someone left bleeding on the ground.

Diplomacy was… not something she was known for.

The Arishok took the news rather well, considering. She had a feeling he already knew—or at least, had suspected what had happened when she walked into the camp with none of the missing Qunari, and nothing to show for it.

"So you did not rescue my delegate, but you killed those responsible," he surmised as she approached, leaning forward in his throne with his elbows on his knees. Hawke stopped in front of him, squaring her shoulders, and thankful for Fenris' unwavering presence at her side. Despite everything that had happened between them in the recent weeks, he was there, and his presence helped calm the unease snaking up her spine as it always did inside the walls of the Qunari compound.

Despite it all, she needed the elf with her… now, more than ever.

"Yes," she replied.

"How do you explain the condition of their bodies?" the Arishok asked her.

"The abuse of zealots," she explained. "A fanatic used them to incite hostility towards the Qunari from others of his kind."

He was quiet for a moment, grunting softly in thought as he stared her down, before he leaned back and inhaled sharply, "I accept that."

"Well… that was easier than I expected."

"I have seen every vice and weakness of your kind—and how few of you take responsibility," he explained. "Your viscount remains a fool, but you are not."

She attempted to hide the degree of surprise on her face, but wasn't particularly successful. Certainly not when the Qunari Arishok—a fearsome, lumbering, horned, warlord who was twice her size and could probably snap her in half—gave her a respectful nod of his head and bid her farewell: "Panahedan, Hawke. I will keep one good thought about your kind."

She decided not to question his respect, and they made their way out of the compound before he could change his mind.

The journey back to Hightown and their respective homes was tense, and quiet yet again. Hawke wasn't really feeling a desire to dwell on the events of the day, and Fenris had no desire to discuss what had happened between them two weeks prior, which left little else to talk about. But the silence was positively deafening between them, so she had to say something. The opportunity presented itself when they made their way up the stairs from the Lowtown marketplace before transitioning into the estates and elaborate décor that marked the streets of Hightown. "You remember when I tripped up these stairs on the way back from the Hanged Man, and fractured my ankle?"

Her heart felt lighter in her chest for a moment, when she noticed the corner of his mouth lift upwards with that little smirk she liked so much. "Yes. I also remember two other occasions in which you did the very same thing."

"Well, yes, but I was sober for those two, and I didn't actually injure myself those times. When I broke my ankle, I was… mildly inebriated."

He faced her, incredulous, "Mildly? Your foot immediately swelled to twice its size, and you didn't even feel any pain. I only managed to get you to sit down when we finally got to my mansion."

"I fought with you trying to pull my boot off for ten minutes," she recalled, giggling softly with a shake of her head. "I was so certain I was fine."

"I had to use my markings to phase the boot off your foot."

"Really?" She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, "I don't remember that."

"You were too busy laughing to notice."

She laughed brightly at the memory—and Maker, it felt good to laugh with him again. "Staying off my foot for weeks afterwards was the worst part! I had lots of time to read, but Andraste's ass, I was so restless!" she exclaimed. "At least sprains heal faster—especially with magic. But healing broken bones is so much more complicated, and those damned crutches…" she trailed off, grumbling quietly at the memory. She'd never known how difficult it would be to bear her entire body weight on her hands and arms for three straight weeks just to get around, until she'd been forced to do so. "I had to get Bodhan to respond to all my letters; my hands were so sore. For a man who was a traveling merchant for most of his adult life, that dwarf has awful penmanship."

When they got to the mansion that served as Fenris' residence, their laughter began to subside, and they fell back into silence again, the discomfort settling back in. They both stopped in front of the door. Hawke was hesitant to leave things as they were, but she could see the stiffness of Fenris' shoulders, and she didn't exactly want to make him uncomfortable, but she didn't want to give up on their friendship either.

Oh, to the Void with this!

"Fenris, I—"

"Goodnight, Hawke," he interrupted, his gaze falling away from her as he paused for a moment. "Call on me if you have need of me."

She felt her shoulders fall, and the anger she'd been holding back the entire night finally started to re-emerge, "… So that's it then? Nothing to say for yourself?"

"Hawke, please." The emotion in his eyes as he looked down at her, before turning back to his front door, almost made her back down, but she was tired of being angry with him. If there was a chance she could move past it and they could repair their broken friendship, she was not waiting one more day to try and make it work. "Go home," he said. "You may call on me for my assistance, but I… we…"

"Fenris, I'm not—well, I am angry. But mostly, I'm just… confused. Hurt that you couldn't trust me to help you with this. I want to help you—you know that, right?"

"I do," he replied as he opened the door, facing her again, but unable to make eye contact with her. "But I cannot burden you with my—"

"You are not a burden!"

"Hawke—"

Without meaning to do so, her exasperation boiled over and her fist slammed sideways into the doorframe. Her eyes were shut tight, and she shook her head fiercely. "No!"

Stunned to silence, he stared at her in surprise.

"I do not accept that!" she exclaimed, plowing forward through her frustrations now that the dam had been opened. "If you don't want to talk about what happened, then fine! We won't talk about it, you impossible man! But we're friends, damn it! Bloody good ones… aren't we?"

He met her gaze evenly, "Yes."

Her shoulders sank with relief, a heavy sigh escaping her as she looked up at his face, "Well good, then. I… wasn't really sure where we stood on that front." She crossed her arms, "I worked like a dog to gain your trust, and we have fought so hard to get where we are. I am not about to give up on that now. So, we're going to move past this, because I couldn't talk to anyone the way I could talk to you, and the thought of not having you in my life is just… I don't want to think about it. So, is that all right with you?"

He was quiet for a moment, thinking. Before long, he looked up and smiled at her, shaking his head, "I would have it no other way."

"Good," she replied, matching his grin with her own. "Now that that's settled, I'll see you tomorrow?"

His brow lifted curiously. "Tomorrow?"

"I have a couple of books sitting at home that I've been meaning to bring over to you for the last few weeks. I just… well." She fell silent for a moment before shaking her head, determined not to dwell on things he had no intention of discussing, "I'll stop by with them tomorrow afternoon? Not that you really need my help anymore; I just… I like hearing you read."

His grin turned wry, and his expression filled with warmth as he gave her a respectful bow of his head, "Then I will see you tomorrow."

They bid each other farewell, and Hawke walked the short journey back to her estate, feeling markedly lighter. As she walked up to the front door, she felt herself smile, and for the first time in two weeks, she felt it reach her eyes. And, as she retired to her room and to her bed, she forced herself not to remember what had happened there two weeks prior, but to focus on the hope blossoming in her chest that perhaps the friendship they'd established had not been shattered beyond repair.

That was as good a start as any, Hawke supposed.

a/n: Ayyyy 2 updates in the same day, lookit that!