This is my first fanfic attempt. The story has been sitting on my laptop for about 2 months now, while I worked up the courage to post it. Many thanks to Hatsepsut for giving me the virtual kick in the pants I needed. I do realize that my time lines don't match up to the ones in the game, but please forgive me for taking liberties. I hope you enjoy reading, as I've had a great time writing. This is also my very first attempt at writing smut, and this story will have a LOT of smut. Er, make that SMUT.

Disclaimer: Bioware owns it all. I'm just toying & playing. And having a great time doing so.

Chapter One: Foolishness

Hawke:

It has been nine months since that wonderful and awful, heartbreaking night with Fenris. Nine months since she had given herself fully to a man. A man she happens to still be devastatingly in love with. Whenever she thinks of that night, a blush darkens her pale skin. She still feels so ashamed and foolish as she thinks of the rejection she's suffered. And inevitably, her thoughts then turn to the things he had done to her and how he had made her feel. It was these thoughts that keep her company during her lonely nights. When she lies in her bed, alone, her body yearning for Fenris' touch, for his whispered words in the dark…these thoughts consume her. She prays to the Maker night after night, to just let him return to her. She hates herself for her weakness, but her heart had been lost long ago and she does not know how to get it back. She's not the type to just hop into bed with whomever struck her fancy. No, they had to win her heart, and Fenris has hers.

Changes have come to Kirkwall, and to Hawke. No longer was she living with her uncle in a hovel, but no longer did she have her lovely little sister to share her life with. Bethany had died in the Deep Roads when she'd foolishly taken her with her. She should have heeded her mother's warnings, and left her sweet sister at home. But Bethany had looked at her with those big eyes and pleaded to go. She never had been any good at saying "no". She'd thought one mage on the trip would have been enough, but she had been mistaken. And Bethany had paid for her foolish mistake. And then that fucking psychopath had stolen her mother from her. Why she kept losing the people she loved, she would have given her last breath to know.

It has been a particularly trying day, full of killing. Usually she enjoys cutting down slavers, blood mages, dragons, and the like. Today, however, she just feels off. Something in her gut is making her feel antsy and unsettled. She drags herself home, covered in sweat, blood and gore, only to be greeted with the cheerful faces of her three servants. She loves them, she really does, and they are part of her family now. But as she washes the grime of the day from her body, she sighs deeply. The reality of the situation is that she is alone. Her servants love her, she has no doubt, but it is inevitable that someday they will want to leave. Orana will no doubt find a man and want to start a family. Bodahn and Sandal won't want to serve her for the rest of their days. Maybe she really should consider settling down with someone. It might be nice to hear the pitter-patter of little feet running through these halls. Maybe it is time to try to move on and find someone else to love. Someone who can love her back. "Anders has a crush on you. And he's very handsome. Perhaps…" Changing into loose fitting brown cotton breeches and a soft white tunic, she settles in for a quiet night at home. As she sits in her library, trying to read one of Varric's latest novels, she finds herself unable to concentrate. Her head is pounding from the stressful events of the day, and she can't stop thinking about the possibility of a family, and children. She desperately wants to be a mother someday. Maybe it's time to hang up her daggers. The bottle of wine she'd opened to have with her dinner sits on the table next to her, nearly drained of its sweet liquid. She stares at the wine, realizing that she is missing a certain lanky, green eyed elf to share the wine with.

"Snap out of it! He doesn't want you, so just move on already!" She's not sure how many times she's had this conversation with herself. Deciding she needs cheering up, and to be around people who love her, she drains the last of the wine and determines to make the rest of this night have a cheerful ending. She refuses to go to bed sad, yet again. And the upside is that Fenris will most likely not be at the Hanged Man. He's been brooding in his mansion for the last few days, probably drunk off his ass. She had tried dragging him out, but three days ago he told her to leave and she is still pissed at him for his dickish attitude. Stepping out into the cool night air, she pulls her woolen cloak tightly around her. She loves this time of year, when the days are losing their heat and the nights are crisp and cool. The leaves on the trees are changing from their various shades of green to bright oranges and deep reds. Her dagger is strapped to her upper thigh, easier access than the twin daggers she usually keeps strapped to her back. She desperately hopes that tonight she will be able to walk the darkened streets without incident, as she doesn't need yet another headache on top of the one she is already fighting. Apparently, the Maker is actually listening to her prayers for a peaceful walk to the tavern, as no one bothers her.

Before she knows it, she is in front of the tavern, the warm lights emanating from the windows beckoning passersby and the jovial voices from within promising a fun evening. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, she steps from the darkness into the blazing light of the main room. Her eyes squint a bit as they adjust to the light, and she hears Varric's familiar voice calling to her. She smiles instinctively but notices that Fenris is, indeed, present. "Ah, shit. I am not in the mood to deal with his crap tonight. Oh stop it, you know you're thrilled to see him."

Varric rubs Bianca lovingly with a cloth and some oil, while downing yet another tankard of his favorite ale. "Hawke! I was just working on a new story. It's about a handsome, brooding elf who drowns in a vat of wine. What do you think?" She looks at Fenris, who is scowling into his wine. He does not look good. His complexion is pale and sallow, and his eyes have dark circles under them. Her heart aches for him. Isabela saunters up to the table, her body on full display tonight. She is wearing a new dress, made of a sheer black material. It barely reaches her mid-thighs and dips low in the front. Her breasts are nearly falling out.

"Hello, Isa. You're looking even more whore-ish tonight, if that's possible."

"Ohhh, why THANK YOU, Hawke! I bought this dress yesterday. I'm so glad you like it!" She sets a fresh mug of ale in front of Varric, and sits next to Fenris. Hawke sits in the only free chair, directly across from Fenris. Hawke's keen eyes notice that Isabela's hand rests on Fenris' thigh underneath the table. "What is this about? Are they together now? No…Isabela is my friend. She knows how I feel about him. Maybe he's moved on. But still, Isa wouldn't do that to me, would she? Well, she IS a whore, you idiot."

In the time that it takes for her brain to have this conversation with itself, Isabela has run her hand up his leg, lightly stroking his crotch, trailing her fingertips across across his chest and back down again. Hawke notices the bulge in Fenris' pants beginning to harden. She does not WANT to look at his crotch, the lovely black leather-clad crotch of his. She can't help following Isabela's fingers with her eyes, though. It is like watching a horrible accident unfold before her eyes. She just cannot look away. "Get a grip, idiot!" She chastises herself. Her eyes snap back up and meet Fenris's. His beautiful, mossy green eyes bore holes into hers as she narrows her gaze and bites her lip. "This is no concern of yours. If he wants to screw that filth, let him. We all know Isabela is a whore. We all know she has a thing for Fenris. But doesn't he realize that once she's had him, she'll just toss him aside? Hmpf. Sound familiar?" The little voice inside her head smirks.

She flags down Nora and orders a bottle of whiskey. Varric raises an eyebrow in question, but does not speak. She never drinks anything stronger than wine, or the occasional mug of ale. Usually she sticks to honeyed herbal tea or water. Something must really be bothering her. He has a very strong feeling that it has to do with the fact that Broody hasn't pushed Isabela's hands off him yet. But Varric knows how drunk Fenris is. The elf has been drunk for the past three days. Probably doesn't even realize he's in the tavern. Varric himself was surprised when Fenris had stumbled into his suite earlier. He hadn't wanted to talk, just drink. Varric supposed he'd gotten tired of drinking by himself. Varric had given up trying to talk to him, so they'd just been drinking all afternoon. He was curious to see if Fenris would eventually pass out, but he seemed to be part camel. The drinks kept coming and the elf kept downing them. Varric sighs. He knows this is not going to end well. Can't fault a man for drunken missteps, but really, Isabela should know better.

She downs shot after shot, fuming silently. Her rage continues to grow. This is not the fun night she had envisioned. She feels eyes on her from time to time, but just glares at the table. If she looks up, she will see Fenris and Isabela and she doesn't want to see any more than she already has. She should go, but her ass seems glued to the chair.

Suddenly, a chair scrapes on the floor, and Fenris stands with Isabela. She giggles and leads them from the room, up the stairs. Hawke knows her mouth has dropped open, but she cannot help it as she watches them go. "WHY would Isabella do this? While I am sitting RIGHT here? Flirting is one thing, but to take it to the next level? She KNOWS how I feel about him! Fucking whore." Hawke turns away from their retreating forms as she feels hot, angry tears welling in her eyes.

Varric finally clears his throat and mumbles into his ale. ""Well shit. I'll go after them."

"No." She says. "Don't bother. If that's what he wants, I hope he gets a disease that makes his balls fall off." She throws some coins on the table and leaves, tears streaking her face, making it that much harder to see as she flees into the Low Town night.

Fenris:

The Rivani whore has been making passes at him all night. He continues to drink and ignore her, hoping that at some point she will just give up and go find some other person to annoy. He has been drunk for three days now, and his head is pounding but he cannot seem to stop. The wine makes it easier to forget how much he loves Hawke. How much he yearns for her touch. He feels badly that he yelled at her when she came to him the other night, knows he should apologize, but what would he say? "Sorry Hawke. I'm a drunk and a coward, and there are just two more reasons why I don't deserve you."

He has been drinking with Varric most of the day and is halfway through another bottle of wine…was it nine bottles of the tavern wine he's now had? He lost count ages ago. He has been thinking of Hawke all day, and then he sees her enter the tavern. He has missed her smiles and her laughter, and is happy she has shown up. He feels Hawke's fingers on his legs and closes his eyes, relishing her touch. Her face swims before him, her voice whispers in his ear. Suddenly he is letting her pull him up and toward her room in the back. He stumbles after her, thrilled that finally, he gets to be with his heart's desire once more.