Disclaimer: Dragon Age 2, Hawke and Fenris all belong to Bioware. I just play with their toys. The poem is from the Japanese poet Ono no Komachi. This is short, but I just finished DA2 this afternoon and I'm plum tuckered out - just had to give myself a bit of fluff to polish off the finale. :)

"Though I go to you

ceaselessly along dream paths,

the sum of those trysts

is less than a single glimpse

granted in the waking world."

The elf's voice rasped along Hawke's skin as sleep slowly subsided, the vibrations of his chest against her cheek making her smile. The inn was small and dark; the faintest glow of approaching dawn colored the tiny window and her lover was little more than the faintest shadow of white hair and bright lyrium marks on his skin.

It was a bloody brilliant way to wake up.

"Is that Qunari? I've never woken up to poetry before."

"I am full of surprises." Fenris murmured. They'd travelled without much more than a pallet in the wild to sleep on for over a week, circling wide around Starkhaven lest Sebastian's fury have a direct impact. Between Hawke's reputation in the Marches and Fenris' unique appearance, it had taken some careful planning to avoid attracting too much attention. Still, one night in a small country inn was little enough to risk.

It was a far cry from her estate in Hightown, she thought as she stretched her toes out and wiggled in satisfaction. She was warm and fed, safe, well-loved. Though there was a small and certain part of her that would always ache at the thought of of Kirkwall, of the blood that would forever color the streets — just this morning, on this day, she was content.

And judging from his choice of morning repartee, her companion was equally so. His arm was looped lightly over her shoulders, holding her close. It took little more than thought for her to lean forward and press the lightest of kisses to the lyrium etching on his forearm.

The breath hissed from him at the touch, a little hitch that sent a tremble through his entire body.

"That doesn't hurt, does it, love?" She whispered, her breath tickling the tiny damp spot her kiss had left.

It was too dark for her to see clearly, but she felt the goosebumps rise on his skin and heard the smile as he spoke — the tiniest curl of his lips, that involuntary twist of humor that seemed so strange and out of practice on him. "You are fortunate, Hawke, that my stamina is as well…developed as it is."

She twisted, gracefully shifting her weight until she perched over him, looking down. In the dawn his markings glowed. So beautiful. Made more so by the complete peace and relaxation to his form.

"I am fortunate, Fenris. Every day."

They'd talked often on the road, of where they were going, of who they could trust. The world was shaken to its foundations, but as they walked, the sense of peace and serenity grew within her with each step. As if each step away from Kirkwall into the wilds somehow lifted a burden for her. She would never forget the city. Never forget her mother — her friends, Aveline, Varric, all of them.

Hawke reached down and brushed the untidy locks of white hair from his face, and murmured, "I am very fortunate indeed."