A Long Way to Go (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Sometimes It's an Ambush

Fenris stretched his feet out toward the fireplace with a contented sigh. It was finally beginning to warm up outside—while he still needed the fire to penetrate deep to his chilled bones, he wasn't also huddling amongst blankets wearing Hawke's fluffy wool robe in addition. She got no end of amusement from the sight of him wearing the garment, but he found it rather ridiculous and fled the room whenever anyone came to visit. Even Sandal's curious face and Bodahn's carefully averted eyes made him feel self-conscious. Not enough to spend the winter blue with cold, however. Hence the robe.

Now he could finally do without it, and had consigned the blasted thing to the depths of the wardrobe waiting for next year's freezing autumn to arrive. And, in addition to the arrival of temperate weather, Hawke was experiencing the longest period of quiet and peace since he had known her—no bandits, no malefactors, no upheavals. It was utter bliss ... for Fenris. Hawke, on the other hand, was restless and unsettled, and therefore spending far too much time in the Hanged Man with Varric. They had given up drunken debauches years ago, but the number of drinks she was willing to consume in a night had increased in recent months. Isabela was no help—she matched Hawke drink for drink, and then some. The pirate was spending a lot of time ashore, even with her beloved ship at her beck and call. Fenris believed the siren's song that was holding his friend to Kirkwall came from high in the Gallows, where Bethany reigned as First Enchanter, but he and Hawke rarely spoke of that. Much as she loved Isabela, she had a difficult time seeing the pirate as a valid choice of partner for her sister. Fenris didn't believe that was Hawke's decision to make, but he knew her position as regarded Bethany, and knew it would not change as long as Bethany remained inside the Gallows.

He heard the door open and close, and Hawke's merry voice speaking to Bodahn, and a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fire.

"There you are." Her voice was a purr from the doorway.

"Was I difficult to locate?"

"Well, I didn't check in bed yet, but I was hoping to find you there."

"Please pardon me for not living up to your expectations." He had barely finished speaking when he found himself with a lap full of warm, giggling Hawke, which was certainly an improvement on the rest of his evening, and neatly resolved his concerns about being too cold. "I take it there was much entertainment to be had at the Hanged Man."

"Mm-hm." She was kissing his neck, which made it difficult to understand what she was saying and equally difficult to concentrate. "Varric made a new friend. Or remade an old one? Hard to say."

"What kind of new friend?" Fenris asked, somewhat breathlessly.

Hawke shifted so that she was straddling his lap. "His name's Edge, or something like that. Said he had a job for the Champion." She rubbed herself against him. "Feels like you do, too." She giggled again, her fingers fumbling at the fasteners of his breastplate.

"Edge is ... uh ... quite a name. What kind of job?" He wasn't sure he cared, not with Hawke's tongue busily exploring the skin she had bared, brushing maddeningly over the lines of lyrium in his throat and chest.

"Didn't say. Meeting him in the market tomorrow, after dark."

Fenris moaned, leaning back to let her have better access. "Sounds like an ambush."

"You always think there's an ambush. But right now ..." She nuzzled her cheek against his stomach, her hair brushing against his skin. "Right now I'm not concerned with ambushes. Or fighting. Or Varric's contacts. Are you?" Her hand did something wicked in a very sensitive spot, and Fenris cried out, arching against her. Hawke chuckled deep in her throat. "Didn't think so."