There was only two days left before the party when Fenris vanished from the estate. Had she not grown accustomed to the habit, Hawke may have been concerned. When he was feeling particularly moody, he preferred to spend some time on his own. He usually returned in better spirits, having missed her in the time gone, so she said nothing against it.

On the eve of the party as she prepared, however, she kept wishing he might walk through the door and change his mind. She didn't even care if they didn't dance if he would just escort her. Still, she put on the long flowing dress that Zevran had brought her after agreeing to take her in Fenris' place and did up her hair. He had wonderful taste, simple an elegant fabric that hugged her in all the right places while still being modest.

"Ah, you look spectacular," he grinned as she descended the steps.

"Not so bad yourself," she said, regarding his dark tunic and trousers accented with a fine pair of antivan leather boots.

"Why, thank you. Are you all set, my dear?" he asked, offering an arm.

"I think so. I just wish Fenris was here. I think he'd appreciate the dress, at least."

"I highly encourage wearing it even if you are not attending a fancy party. It would be a waste of your exquisite curves not to show them more often." Hawke gave him a wry smile. There was no end to his compliments, and while she felt half of them didn't describe her at all, they were still nice to hear.

As Hawke handed the door man her invite when they arrived, Zevran quietly noted about twenty different places he could have crept into the Lerennan manor undetected. He also noticed that a great deal of Kirkwall's nobility was in attendance at this party, which meant that there were a great deal of unattended homes that eve. As a former Antivan Crow, it had become instinct to take all these factors into account, to be aware of one's surroundings and options. He could only assume that the criminals prowling the streets at night were a thick lot, or else they would have realized what easy pickings these nobles were ages ago. Then again, should they have had the poor luck of trying to break into the lovely Champion's estate they would have had their heads handed to them. Perhaps that thought alone kept them well away from the district. She had single-handedly defeated an Arishok, after all.

The smooth smile ever present on his face quirked every now and again as he entertained mischievous thoughts of Hawke taking down a band of thugs in her night-wear. Lovely.

"...and this is Zevran," he heard her say to his left, his attention snapping to the finely dressed women in front of them. They both looked too young to be the Mistress of the house, likely her daughters. Definitely sisters.

"It is a pleasure, my dear ladies," he said with a graceful bow, lightly grasping their fingers to kiss their hands respectively. As he had come to expect, they turned coy but let their eyes wander over him as indirectly as possible when they thought he might not notice. What could he say? Sometimes he rather enjoyed having been brought up in a brothel.

"Do you keep many elves, Serah Hawke?" the first woman asked, the flush in her cheeks rising as Zevran raised his brows at her.

"No, Lady Lerennan. I do not," Hawke replied, tone a bit short at the insinuation.

"Oh, but this is not the one we saw following you in the market the other day," the shorter one smirked. "He was not quite this clean."

Oh, dear, Zevran thought, glancing over at Hawke who clearly did not appreciate the insult to Fenris in his absence. He praised her for keeping her cool, though her eyes nearly shot daggers, as she put on a well-practiced, quaint smile.

"He is a warrior. I don't know about you, Mera, but I expect warriors to get their hands dirty. You know, to do their jobs."

"Hm. I like this one better," Lily, the elder said, still making eyes at Zevran. "He smiles more than the other one. And he's prettier."

"My dearest, shall we partake of some refreshments?" Zevran said, gently grasping Hawke's hand as he watched her fist ball up and tremble. It would not do to lay out your hosts' children or have that nerve at her temple grow much larger. No doubt she had already ground her teeth down and was in danger of causing her tongue to bleed from all the biting. Luckily, she allowed herself to be led away. Once they were at a safe distance, she gave a visible frustrated breath and reached for the wine. Zevran intercepted her. "Here, let me."

"Maker, I hate them," she huffed and down the glass he handed her in one swig. He smiled knowingly and filled her another.

"Ah, the pains of the high life," he hummed. "All the finest thing you could dream of, yet the manners could easily be rivaled by a pig at the trough."

Hawke snorted audibly in a laugh, catching herself with a hand over her mouth.

"Well, anyway," she said, taking her drink slower this time. "I'm glad you came. At now I have someone to relate to."

"I am honored you think so," he said, swirling his own wine around absently in his glass as his eyes glided over the crowd.

"Maybe Fenris is right. Maybe I should just stop attending these things. I swear it's like they get nastier by the minute."

"They have nothing better to do, sweet. No hand to hand or skill with a blade to speak of. What have they left but the lash of their tongues, eh?"

"They can fight with their tongues, but I would take my blade any day. Let's see how that one works out." It was Zevran's turn to laugh now.

"I wouldn't worry about it, my dear. After tonight, I'm sure they will be rendered utterly speechless."

"I wish I had your confidence." Their eyes turned up as the orchestra came to life at the back of the room and Zevran saw Hawke visibly squirm. Taking down the rest of his wine, he set the glass on the table and extracted hers lightly from her fingers, taking her hand.

"You do have it," he smiled as he led her out on the dance floor with the rest of the noble couples. As with their lessons, he led her smoothly across the floor, pleased at how receptive she was to his subtle hints of movement. Dare he think it, but he may have actually been a little jealous of that Fenris fellow for having this lithe and charming creature dedicated so fully to him. No matter how close he drew her, or how he gave her looks that would make most women swoon, she continued to focus on little more than her lessons and Fenris. Even now she seemed distant, moving as if in a dream and only offering him a polite smile when their eyes met. It was...adorable.

The song drew to a close and Hawke curtsied as he bowed to her. The other couples began to disperse and so they moved to take their leave. That was when the Mistress Lerennan spoke up. She clapped her hands loudly to attract everyone's attention.

"Greetings to you all! I wanted to thank you once again for joining us to celebrate the coming of spring!"

"Not that you could tell in Kirkwall," Hawke muttered under her breath. Zevran chuckled softly.

"As per our tradition, it is now time for a lucky couple to take the dance floor to officially usher us forth into the new season. Are there any nominations?" The crowd about them began to bustle as names of various the various nobles were shouted. Hawke rolled her eyes discreetly and Zevran soothingly rubbed at the small of her back with his fingertips, eyes skimming over the crowd again.

"Ah," he said and Hawke glanced to him.

"What?" she asked and he only smiled.

"I nominate Serah Hawke!" Mera's voice was clear and cut above the crowd. Zevran felt Hawke go rigid against his hand, head darting up. With the suggestion out there, the rest of the nobles began to join in, voicing their agreement and all beginning to turn towards her. Zevran felt her pulse begin to quicken.

"Yes, Serah Hawke!"

"Yes, the Champion!"

No doubt she felt as though she was being called to the chopping block. Worry not, sweet, the best part is yet to come Zevran thought. When she turned to look at him, eyes full of desperation, he ushered her forward with his hand at her back, the other light at her elbow.

"Zevran, I can't do this! Not in front of everyone!" she hissed over her shoulder at him.

"Nonsense. This will be brilliant," he grinned.

"No! This is different than a group dance! I can't do solo!"

"You aren't going to dance solo, silly girl," he teased and she set her jaw, giving him a disbelieving look as they came through the crowd and onto the open dance floor. Now in the direct line of sight of anyone and everyone, Hawke could do nothing but feign courage. "Do you remember the dance we practiced?"

"What dance? Which one?" she said through her smile.

"The last one. The waltz."

"You said that was just for fun, Zevran! I can't do that here!" she had turned to him again now, whispering close to his face, panicking as the orchestra began to warm up. He placed his hands firmly on her hips and brought her forward.

"Your place is here," he said, leaning close. "Just think about who is with you, and you will be fine." He knew she likely wanted to murder him at this point, but that none of the nobles would see it on her pretty, pleasant face as he stepped back. Hawke felt a chill creep down her spine as a familiar, slow tempo began to rise in the music.

She frantically did her best to remember how this dance started, how it ended, and everything in between, finding her mind scattered. Somehow, as the tune swelled and reached the time she was waiting for, her body seemed to move for her.

She brought her hands up through the air, feet light and echoing their movement on the ground. She could feel Zevran moving in the same motion behind her, and after a few beats she twirled, the world spinning, until his hands grasped her shoulders and she came face to face with...Fenris?

Her heart felt like it leapt into her throat, only to drop and swell in her chest when she caught his eyes with hers. The moment was brief before he released her again and had moved in front of her. She mimicked the movement and he caught her as she dared to lean over into his grasp, one leg balanced and pointed in the air. His hand held hers as both feet found the floor again, light and gentle as she had learned they could be, spinning her around with her skirt fluttering at her legs. Their hands parted, only for the others to connect again until they moved away completely, rounding each other in an elegant circle. Hawke couldn't keep her eyes off him, his face. She couldn't read his expression, other than it looked calm as ever, as if he'd done this a hundred times. He was dressed all in black, save for the deep green shirt beneath the vest. Maker's breath, was he wearing shoes?

It was decidedly unimportant, the shoes, as her hand held his hip and led him around only to have him exchange positions and do the same with her. He moved so easy with her, responded to her as she followed him, love-struck as the first time they met. His arms held her and molded her around him, reminding her how well they fit together in so many ways. With no armor to obstruct him from her, she could feel the flexing of his back muscles when she leaned up against it with her own. And, Maker, when he lifted her in his arms, curving her against his chest with a hand at her thigh and just below her breasts, she thought she might melt.

Oh, she would never live this down, she laughed inside as he held her hand and stepped up on one of the chairs and then onto a table, she following suit as soon as he descended. They didn't knock over a single glass, not that she would have cared. Not when he took her into his arms, holding her up so she could press her hands to the back of his neck and look down at him. Oh, but she wanted to kiss him then, particularly when she saw that glint in his eye, but she was back on the floor and they were waltzing about the room in beautiful rhythm.

She grew excited for the times when he lifted her up, feeling lighter than air both inside and out as he carried her swiftly along with never an ounce of weakness in his lean form. She only wished the dance would never stop.

The next few moments she did not recall Zevran ever teaching her, but followed Fenris' lead unquestioningly, enchanted when he set her down on the main stairway, kneeling before her before sliding to sit beside her. After that, the world may as well have stopped because she felt herself drawn back leaning over his lap into the crook of his arm. Right there, in front of all of them, he brought his lips down to hers and kissed her.

The room was silent, and Hawke wasn't sure how long they lingered that way, but Fenris finally pulled back enough to look at her, his hands holding her softly. She felt her lips curling into a smile and watched as his brow quirked and that smirk she knew and loved claimed his mouth.

They were brought back to reality as the clapping began, turning loud and vibrant, accompanied by whoops of elation. Hawke's skin already felt like it was on fire, so she was unsure if she blushed or not. It didn't matter as Fenris rose with her hand in his, bringing her up as well. Hawke couldn't stop her hand from rising to her mouth as he bowed and she promptly curtsied.

The elf looked to her as the noise continued, drawing her close.

"Seems you've made an impression. Shall we take our leave?"

"To the void with them all," Hawke said, forehead to his. "All I need is you." He smiled at this.

"Well, then. Let's make a good exit." Bending down, he pulled her up in his arms and made for the door. The cold air outside was a blessing as it brushed the smothering heat of the manor away when they stepped outside.

"Oh, the things they will say." The two looked over to the corner of the building to see Zevran leaning there. Fenris carefully let Hawke down, but said nothing and only gave Zevran a halfhearted glance before looking skyward.

"I don't understand. How did you...?" she said beneath her breath.

"I just taught you to dance, my dear."

"But...?"

"I've seen men like him. They can pick up a skill very easily... All they have to do is watch... It comes like a reflex."

"But he wasn't there at the end."

"Wasn't he?" Zevran smiled. Hawke glanced over her shoulder and Fenris turned his eyes away from having been staring at her. She offered Zevran a crooked smile.

"Thank you."

"No need."

"Well, if not for the help, then for the clothes." Zevran raised his brows in surprise, pressing a hand to his chest.

"What makes you think it was me?"

"Please," Hawke said. "Isabela told me about your love for antivan shoes, particularly leather. It's not something Fenris would buy."

"Ah, I am caught," he chuckled. Hawke couldn't contain herself any more and pulled the assassin into a hug, which he happily returned, though pointedly made brief out of respect. "You best get back to your dance partner, or else I may end up with one less heart this night." Hawke nodded and smiled, turning to wrap her arm about Fenris' elbow so he could escort her home.

Fenris glanced over his shoulder at Zevran as they departed and rolled his eyes with the slightest hint of a smirk when the former Crow winked at him.

"There you are." Zevran turned as Isabela approached from behind and wrapped her arms around him playfully. "Thought you said you'd be at the Hanged Man hours ago. Ooo, aren't we fancy tonight?" Her fingertips played with the fabric of his tunic.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting, my dear. I had a mission to see through."

"Oh? Anything interesting?"

"You should know all my missions are interesting. Especially the ones that involve love."

"Have you been playing cupid again?" she asked wryly, leaning around to look at him.

"Oh, no, no. Nothing so dramatic. Just dancing instructor." He turned and began to lead her across the square with a hand at her waist.

"What kind of dancing are we talking about?" she asked deviously. "The naughty type?" Zevran laughed.

"Maker willing!"

FIN