(Author's Note: Contains mature themes. )

The sun had descended on the city of Kirkwall, swiftly hiding away behind the steep mountains of Sundermount and darkening the sky to its soulless blue. There was not a star in the sky as Hawke wandered through the stone streets of Hightown, making her way to the estate she now owned. Exhausted, she had spent the day with her companions, rescuing a man-child from the Templars, aiding an illusive Antivan assassin, and fighting a giant beast they had learned was called a varterral. Yes, it was an eventful day, full of compassion, blood, and death. Above it all, however, she could not seem to take her mind off the words her mage companion had said. After years of waiting, Anders had finally given in to his heart rather than his head, admitting he ached to be with her and that he could wait no longer.

"Leave your door open for me, tonight, and I will come to you," the possessed mage had whispered, the tip of his thumb lightly pressing down on the plumpness of her bottom lip. "If it is closed, I will know you have finally heeded my warnings to stay away from me, at last."

Hawke had resisted a smirk, overwhelmed by his offer and the passion seeping from his every pore. Her door would indeed remain opened for him, as she herself had been aching for his touch these long, three years. Caught in her daydream, she was surprised to find herself at the front porch of her estate, using the thick, old iron key to shift the creaky locks. Cringing, Hawke told herself to have one of the servants oil the aged door as it squeaked and squealed upon opening, stepping inside the dim, quiet mansion. It was late in the evening, with her mother and the servants fast asleep, and she did not wish to wake them. With a giddy grin, she took slow steps backward into her home, staring at the unlocked door. He would come for her soon enough and she eagerly awaited his arrival.

Deciding it would be best to freshen up, Hawke nearly sprinted through the mansion, hastily moving through the many rooms and up the stairwell to make for her bedchamber. Quickly entering the dark bedroom, she could narrowly make out the outlines of her things, feeling the wind's drafty chill. Shuffling over to one of her small tables, she reached inside the drawer for a matchbox, pulling free a tinder and striking it against the wall. Dropping it into the mantle of the built-in torch, its flame ignited in a flurry, filling the room with light and heat. Satisfied, she turned back to the room, freezing in place when she spotted a figure sitting near her window. Nearly drawing her blade, Hawke made out the figure's white, glistening hair and lanky limbs as it perched carelessly on the windowsill.

"Fenris!" she cried the elf's name, breathing a hefty sigh of the relief that the danger had passed. Or so she thought.

"I don't want you to sleep with him," came his deep, velvety voice, raising his widely-round mossy green eyes to her. He seemed in a fit of melancholy, with his eyebrows curved with sadness. His lengthy back and torso stood upright as he sat on the windowsill, with one knee propped against his thin chestplate while the other leg fell freely.

"How did you get in here?" Hawke asked suspiciously, still in shock at his presence.

"Your window," Fenris gestured slightly with his gauntlet, his sharpened fingertips pinching at the drapes. "You leave it unlocked. A choice most unwise."

"That doesn't give you the right to enter," she scolded him, folding her arms in disapproval. Frowning, she watched as he turned his gaze from her to stare out of the window. She could no longer see his expression behind the curtain of his white hair. "Why are you here?"

"I am here because I overheard the mage," uttered Fenris just barely above a whisper, his throaty tone filled with pain. A gust of wind lifted a few locks of his hair, revealing the anguish he tried so desperately to hide. "I will not allow it."

"You really have no say in whom I share my bed with," sneered Hawke as she dug her nails into her own biceps. "How dare you break into my home and attempt to order me about!"

"Do you love him?" he suddenly asked, nearly cutting her off with his sharp, firm question.

"What?" came her aghast outburst.

"Do you love him?" he repeated, his grumbling tone darkening further as his gaze remained out on Hightown's streets.

"Well, I I care deeply for him," she answered honestly, giving herself a moment to think over his words. She was not entirely sure if she did love Anders, finding out that she was incapable of reaching the same level of emotional depth or attachment with anyone since the elf sitting before had torn the heart from her chest three long years ago.

"You do not love him because you still love me. This is why I cannot allow you to sleep with him," stated Fenris, completely sure of his words. This angered Hawke a great deal.

"You walked out on me," she hissed at the elf defensively, ignoring his implications. "Why should it matter to you?"

The Tevinter elf turned his head just slightly, looking upon her from the corner of his eye. With lips parted, he paused in his plea, taking in the sight of Hawke. Though furious with her golden hair wildly astray, she had never looked so beautiful and powerful to him.

"It just does," he answered simply.

"I want you out of my house!" Hawke growled through clenched teeth. "Get out!"

"No," he objected, causing the woman to nearly charge on him. Advancing forward just a few steps, she seemed to restrain herself just barely.

"Leave voluntarily, or Maker help me, I will push you out of that window," came her malicious warning.

"Hawke " called the elf in an affectionate whisper, watching the infuriation in her features ease just barely at his gentleness. "I have spent a thousand nights trying to think of a way to make up for what I've done to you, and not once have I been successful. When I overheard what the mage said to you today, I knew the time for apology was at an end. It is now time to act," explained Fenris as he noiselessly slid off the windowsill to stand freely upon his bare feet. Taking slow steps, the elf moved slowly along the stone tiles, his angled features glinting perfectly in the light. The drapes of her window waved and whipped in another gust of wind, briefly hiding away his taut, controlled body. When the breeze finally ended, the drapes lowered enough to see he had undone the leather belts holding his thin cuirass to his limber chest, letting it drop to the floors in a loud clank. "Did you think I was so filled with hatred that there was no space in my heart left to love you?"

Astonished by the sudden turn of events, Hawke felt the blood rush to her cheeks at the sight of her elven companion disrobing. Fenris had nearly finished unbinding the toggles of his tunic, revealing the captivating artwork of his lyrium carvings that expanded down his sternum and along the sides of his narrow torso. Rarely allowing herself to lay her eyes upon his flesh, Hawke remembered all the evenings she had lain awake, dreaming of their design and how she longed to see them once more. The one time she had permission to view them in such detail was the night they had shared together, so very long ago. It was the very same night he had betrayed her trust and shattered her heart.

"Fenris, no," struggled the woman, her voice caught in her throat. The memory of that evening broke whatever spell his lyrium had on her. "We cannot do this again!" she cried out in a light panic, quickly making for the door of bedchamber. Grabbing hold of the brass nob, she was able to pull it open just a foot or so before it was abruptly slammed shut. Gasping, she saw Fenris's gauntlet flat against the wood, holding it closed forcefully.

"Do not be afraid," came his gravelly voice, mere inches behind her. Stilling her movements, she couldn't help the steady rise and fall of her breasts as both anger and fright consumed her. Ashamed, the woman could feel an urge of desire towards the intrusive elf, pent up after all the years of rejection.

"You had your chance," Hawke said quietly, unable to face him. She knew just one look into his tortured eyes would set her heart aflame and send her into an emotional spiral.

"And the Maker has presented me with another one," explained the elf gently as the woman felt him brush aside her extensive, blonde locks to reveal her neck to the chilly air. The sensitive flesh was quickly warmed by his hot breath when he exhaled shakily, moving to hold her firmly against him. Lining his torso along the length of her back, one of his deadly gauntlets continued to hold the door steadfast while the other moved freely cup the area of her naval, coaxing her to ease and relax. "Here, with you tonight."

Hawke resisted his loving embrace, knowing that she, and possibly he, were not thinking in their right minds. There had to be a reason for his sudden attempt to rekindle what they once had, and she was not yet won over by his sexual advances though she was undeniably aroused.

"You are simply jealous of Anders, aren't you? You have rejected me, denied me, and held me at an arm's length for three years. Why now?" asked the woman while she still retained some sort of reason on this bizarre night. The answer she received was the feeling of Fenris's pouty lips running upward along her jugular and towards her jawline. She was surprised when he suddenly captured her earlobe, feeling the moist suckle of his mouth there. Not wishing to end his endeavor, nor join in, Hawke's hands formed fists as she struggled to remain neutral.

"If I could take it all back, I would. All of it," answered Fenris stoutly, beginning to comfort Hawke's fears and doubt and causing her to lean a bit more freely against him. "You are mine, and you always have been."

"No!" shouted Hawke in sudden objection, moving just out of his reach to face him. "You abandoned me and there is nothing you can do to change that!" Stunned by the woman's outburst, Fenris's thick brows rose just slightly at her words. There was a silent moment between them as the Champion fumed, glaring at the elf. "I want you to leave, Fenris. Now!"

"I will not!" he snarled, consumed by a swift bout of fury. His angled features sharpened as he angered. "I love you more than that mage ever could! And I will prove that to you, whether you're willing or not!" Without warning, the lanky elf suddenly lit in the blue aura of his lyrium, grabbing the woman by the shoulders and forcefully flattening her body to her bedroom door.