At Your Side (A Dragon Age fanfiction)

The Hanged Man

Hawke woke suddenly, her heart pounding. The room was unfamiliar, shapes seen dimly in late afternoon light filtered through torn scraps of curtains. A smile spread across her face as she remembered this morning, recognizing the weight across her hip as Fenris's arm. She relaxed against the warmth of his body, trying to figure out what had awakened her.

Slowly, Fenris's arm moved up over her ribs, pulling her more firmly against him. The thin mattress he slept on was thrown on the floor in the back corner of an upstairs bedroom—that of an elven servant once, Hawke was certain. Several flights of stairs and a number of complex traps he'd set separated the squalid little room from the main portion of the mansion. It was as clear a demonstration of the kind of fear he'd been living in as Evelyn could have asked for.

Then the sound came again, a faint small squeaking.

"Fenris."

"Mmm." He nuzzled the back of her neck, his hand splayed, warm and strong, across her stomach.

"There's a mouse."

"Mmhm." His lips were moving on her neck, and she considered forgetting the mouse. Her body, though still sore from their activities earlier that day, was already reacting to his nearness and his touch and the knowledge that this wasn't yet another dream.

The mouse squeaked again. She could see it now, glittering little black eyes shining in the dimness, coming closer.

"Fenris!" She reached back, clutching his thigh.

"Ow." He propped himself up on his elbow, looking over her shoulder. "What is it?"

"There's a mouse!"

His elven eyes saw more clearly than hers, and he peered in the mouse's direction. "Ah. Yes. That's Remeurri."

"That's who?"

"Remeurri. Named after a particularly fine Antivan wine."

"You named the mouse."

"I did. There is also Agreggio, Chivaret, Paleo, and Atressi."

"You have pet mice?" The mouse came toward them again, and Hawke couldn't restrain the shriek that came to her lips. She leaped to her feet, dragging the threadbare sheet with her and searching for the nearest piece of furniture to climb on.

Fenris sat in the middle of the mattress, his hair tousled, blinking at her. "Is there a problem?"

"Mice, Fenris. I don't like them."

"So I see." He made a little chittering sound, holding his hand out for the mouse, which climbed aboard. "I don't suppose you'd like to pet him?"

"Pet him? Are you crazy?" She searched the floor, snatching up her pants and smallclothes from the corner where they'd landed earlier and shaking them frantically to dislodge any unwanted guests.

Fenris put the mouse on the windowsill, and it promptly ran into a hole in the frame and disappeared. "I can attempt to retrain them."

Hawke fastened her pants, snagging her breastband from the back of a chair with a broken seat. She hooked it together before crossing the room to him, putting her arms around his waist. "You don't have to live like this anymore, you know. You can come live with me." She felt his muscles stiffen in reaction to her words and added, "Eventually." Of course he was too damned independent and stubborn to agree to such a thing. She tried to look at it from his perspective, but it was too soon to avoid the sting of fear—was he being aloof because he wasn't ready for the next step, or because he wasn't sure he could really commit to her?