Author's Note: I may remove this later and use it in a larger piece that I am working on but I liked this little excerpt and thought it stood alone well enough for now.

Time period: Post break-up. Hawke and Fenris are speaking to each other but they are not yet back together.

Characters: This story includes Anders, Fenris and Varric. (None of them are my creations obviously.)

Synopsis: The subject matter revolves around a f!Hawke/Fenris romance. A feisty Anders gives Fenris an earful. Angst beautiful angst but with humor.

"Why are you still here?" Anders demands, shouting at the elven warrior. A few people stop to stare. Most scatter, sensing immediately that it would not wise to stand between these two men, or even near these two men seeing that one is a mage and the other has a very large sword. These two facts convince the oglers to move on as well. This particular section of Hightown is suddenly pretty empty despite the time of day.

Fenris answers his interrogator in low, measured tones. "I swore an oath."

The scruffy-bearded mage rolls his eyes. "Oooooh yes. Of course. And that means so much coming from a self-centered user of women like yourself."

Sarcasm. How original. The elf clarifies, "I swore an oath to Carver."

"Ah," pauses Anders, "That oath. Yes, well, I was there. I made that same promise and it's being kept so you can just run along now. Go dog someone else's existence."

Fenris feels an ache in his chest. He is a dog on her leash now, even if she doesn't know it. It is his own doing. He wants to be bound to her in so many ways but she is lost to him. "I made a mistake. I will accept the consequences of that mistake. But, I will not abandon her to face the dark days ahead alone." Of this he is sure. He will never waver again.

Anders huffs. "Hel-loooo? What are the rest of us doing then? What am I, moldy cheese?"

"As you like."

"You blasted, bloody elf." Anders eyes smolder dangerously. "I should kill you and free her of your curse."

Fenris reaches for his blade, his fingers touch the pommel. "Please do, abomination. I would cleanse her of your taint right here and now."

Spiteful laughter. "What? My taint? Is that some kind of Grey Warden joke?"

Green eyes narrow. He feels the hatred boiling his blood. "I have seen you with her. Sometimes you leave her mansion together at dawns light."

The mage seems to hesitate awkwardly at this, grimacing. "Ah. Yes. About that..."

Bitter green jealousy flares. How can she let him touch her? "You know I do not live far away. You knew I would see this. I have no doubt you take great pleasure in... "

Anders explodes again. "What did you think, elf ?" His voice changes to a ridiculous, feminine pitch. "That she would pine for you in her high bed, combing her long hair like some vapid, dewy princess?" He seems to nauseate himself at the very thought of this.

Fenris' features twist in disgust. "Ugh! No! I thought she would have better taste than you!" He gestures rudely in Anders' direction.

The mage's face reddens. He is on the edge of fury. Justice paces eagerly, ready beneath the healer's skin. He hisses, "Andraste's fiery ass but you have balls, you pointy-eared little heap of qunari shit!"

So, he doesn't deny it. The elf's mouth curls cruelly, seeing his cheap bait work so well. Anders' response tells him that the mage is insecure. This man doesn't think he's worthy of her. Fenris agrees. It is time. "You should have killed me when you had the chance, mage..." Fenris draws his sword.

The irony of this argument suddenly strikes Anders as funny. He starts to laugh. He laughs even harder as the elf hesitates, puzzled. "By the Maker but you are daft! How do you remain upright, with that enormous block of bone for a head?" He stops laughing for a moment and stares incredulously at the elf. The idiot really doesn't know! "I haven't touched her. I mean, not since I kissed her that one time but that's beside the point. She doesn't want ...she won't let me. She's still in love with you!" Anders voice has risen to a shriek.

Fenris blinks. "Do not think I am so easily fooled by... " In his mind the blond man's words repeat like an echo. "You kissed her? What do you mean 'she won't let me'?" he adds angrily, audibly tightening his grip on the long hilt of his greatsword.

Anders screams in frustration, throwing up clawed fingers. "Your mother must have mated with a lamp post!" Then he turns on his heel and storms out of the courtyard, shouting obscenities.

The armored elf stands there fuming darkly, not quite sure how things went wonky just now. Why isn't the mage dead at his feet? He feels awkward to be posing with an exceptionally large greatsword for no reason. He wants to hit something. A lot. She's still in love with you! It couldn't be true. After what he'd done, it wasn't possible.

Fenris is still standing in the same position seconds later when he sees Varric coming around the corner from whence that damned mage disappeared.

The beardless dwarf walks towards him jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "So, I just passed Anders back there." He says this like this should mean something to the elf. He adds helpfully, "He was shouting something about an idiot elf so I had to assume he meant you. I asked were you were and he shot a lightning bolt in this direction. Killed a poor, defenseless shrubbery."

Fenris grits his teeth, lowering his sword. The dwarf is not a suitable target for his anger. She cares for him too much. "Then you missed the best of it," he states. "He was much more creative a moment ago."

Varric takes in this information. "Well, what did you say to him, Broody? I thought we had crossed that whole bridge a long time ago." There is reproach and weariness in his voice.

"I am going to ask you a question, dwarf. I want a short, honest answer. Can you do that?" He leans lightly on his sword, resting his arms on the wide steel guard.

Varric shifts his weight to one leg and crosses his arms over his hairy chest. It is mildly challenging, this stance. "Okay... this aughta be interesting."

"Is Anders living at the Amell estate?"

That's an easy one. "Yes. That answer short and honest enough for you?"

"I knew he was lying!" roars the elf, hefting the sword onto his back and starting after the mage. But... it seems there is more information that the dwarf wishes to impart.

"Hawke saw that the templars were closing in on the old boy down there in Darktown, so she gave him one of the spare rooms in her mansion. Templars don't bother the Hightowners as much, especially when the Hightowner in question is the champion of the people."

Fenris stops and turns back towards the bard. A thin beam of light breaks through the hazy clouds overhead.

Varric purses his lips. Waiting.

"They are not... " The elf's voice rumbles a little less confidently in his chest.

"There is no "they" you idiot elf." Varric is looking at him in much the same way the mage did before he stormed off. "Of course, I would never insult you. I'm just quoting."

Fenris suddenly recalls how perfect and warm her body felt in his arms.

"But, there is a long line of young, handsome, eligible nobles lining up to court her. She isn't dumb enough to run off with some dandy but I wouldn't wait forever." Varric makes a shooing motion with his hands and then jerks his head in the direction of the Amell Estate.

The elf sets off at a dead run.