This story is the twisted result of a very giggly conversation between myself and my dear friend, Lisakodysam, the talented author of multiple stories. Her current work, 'Per Ardua Ad Astra', a powerful love story featuring Fenris and Fletcher Hawke, can be found at the website Archive of Our Own, work number 223829.
So, just what does happen when the main characters of two rather different fanfics decide to get together and form a support group? Who would attend and just how quickly would things go wrong? We were sure each of you had wondered the same thing yourselves (of course you have!)and we thought it might be fun to find out...
Two Hawkes Walked Into A Bar
"May I have everyone's attention, please?"
Aveline clapped her hands several times and waited for the hubbub to die down. "Thank you. Welcome to the first meeting of the Society of Disgruntled Characters in Stupid Fanfics United in Bringing their Authors to Account. Now, to begin..."
"Hold it," Varric interrupted. "That's the name of our happy little gathering here? A bit of a mouthful, don't you think?"
Aveline shrugged and once again addressed the group. "It's a long-winded name, I'll grant you, but I feel it gets to the heart of our concerns. As I was about to say, I'll be chairing this meeting but we'll vote at the end to see if anyone wants a different chairperson for the next one. Varric will be taking minutes. At least he'd better be taking minutes, and not collecting material for his next story." She sent a questioning glance the dwarf's way.
"As if," he scoffed, writing as he spoke. "What possible material would I glean from a meeting of fictional characters who are pissed off with their authors? What makes you think any of this would be worth writing about later? It's just a meeting that has two Broodys and two Blondies in attendance, after all. Nothing exciting is going to happen there. Nothing at all. No, ma'am."
Aveline huffed and muttered something under her breath before resuming. "Anyway. We've hired the Hanged Man for the next two hours so that should give everyone ample opportunity to get things off their chests-"
"Speak for yourself," purred an exotic-looking woman with enormous breasts who was seated slap bang in the middle of the men. "Not that you havemuch to speak of in that department."
Ignoring the whore, Aveline shifted her weight slightly and continued. "As we're from two different stories, I think introductions are in order, as well as a brief summary of our grievances. Hawke, we'll start with you."
A man and a woman stood up together before the man laughed and sat back down, indicating that the woman go first.
"Thank you," she said graciously with a nod at her counterpart. "My name is Lorelai Hawke-"
"Hawke?" exclaimed the man excitedly. "I'm Hawke, too! That means we're sort of sisters, doesn't it?"
Lorelai pulled a face and chuckled in bemusement. "You're a man! How can we be sisters?"
"You obviously don't know him, sweetheart," said the whore.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," the male Hawke apologised. "Please, go on." He leaned closer to his paramour, Fenris, and whispered, "She's quite a looker for a girl, isn't she?"
Fenris slowly turned to Fletcher, a single, dark eyebrow arching.
"Well, she is a Hawke," Fletcher explained with a lopsided grin.
"Thank you, uh, Sister," Lorelai teased and then cleared her throat. "Well, as I was saying, my name is Lorelai Hawke Vael. I don't have any grievances – in fact, I think my author is very talented – but I'm here to support my husband, Sebastian."
A chair at the rear was pushed back and a skinny, mangy-looking mage stood up, an action immediately met with hostility by a white-armoured archer and a white-haired elf, both of whom surged towards the mage.
"Sit down!" ordered Aveline, forcing herself between the threesome. "We're not here to settle your personal vendettas! Take it outside if you can't control yourselves!"
Slowly, the men backed away from each other but when the elf sat down, his chair, and attention, were turned toward the mage.
"Well, um, I think that's all I wanted to say," Lorelai mumbled, quickly sitting next to her husband – who placed a protective arm around her shoulder – taking great care not to look at the mage.
Aveline returned to the front of the group and tightened her ponytail. "Right, you next, Hawke. I mean, the other Hawke."
The male Hawke stood up and loudly cleared his throat, his eyes darting back to the mangy mage. "Well, as you've all guessed, I'm Hawke, or Fletcher to my friends. I'm a mage… what did Aftermath Anders do wrong, by the way? Why's everyone ganging up on him?"
"That's not relevant, Hawke," Aveline argued.
"But I don't know that Anders," he said with a glance at the small table where two Anderses were seated: his friend and fellow apostate, plus another man who looked a lot like Anders but appeared twenty years older, and seemed to be nothing but skin and bones beneath his clothing. "If he's the Anders of the future, is there something we should know?"
"I'll have a lot to say when my turn comes, believe me," snapped Skinny Anders. "Just say your bit and let's get on with it."
Looking offended, Fletcher turned his back on Skinny Anders, his nose high in the air. "Well, if you're going to be like that, I won't bother sticking up for you again."
"Nobody asked you to! No one understands me anyway, why should you be any different?"
"Shut your filthy mouth, demon!" barked one of the white-haired elves and again, several chairs were pushed back.
"That's enough!" shouted Aveline, unsheathing her sword and charging forward. "I've gone to a lot of trouble to arrange this meeting and if you're not going to conduct yourselves properly, you can all leave!"
This time, seven men were on their feet: both Anderses, both Fenrises, Sebastian and a tall, handsome nobleman who appeared to be Sebastian's friend. Plus Fletcher, of course, who looked completely bewildered.
After a pause, Sebastian bowed to Aveline and straightened up. "Our pardon, Captain. We should not rise to such uncouth behaviour. There is a time and a place for such things."
"You can count on that, Vael!" stormed Skinny Anders as his younger-looking twin dragged him back to his seat.
"Aye, an' ye can count on me stickin' ma sword where the sun doesn't shine if ye carry on, pal!" threatened Sebastian's friend in a strong Starkhaven accent, his hand on the hilt of his rapier.
"Sit down!" Aveline ordered, her face reddening, while tiny tendrils of smoke wafted from Varric's quill as he furiously 'took down the minutes'.
Fletcher, who was hungry, did as Aveline commanded, wanting to get the meeting over with so he could have supper. Both Fenrises remained standing for a moment, looking at each other, before exchanging a brisk nod and taking their own seats.
"Finally! Thank you!" exclaimed Aveline before taking a deep breath. "Any grievances, Fletcher Hawke?"
He shook his head, laughing. "Absolutely not! My author gave me my wonderful man, Fenris! How could I be unhappy with that?" He shot a soppy grin at the elf to his right, who fidgeted and cleared his throat, while the other Fenris cocked his head and studied his twin with curiosity.
"You, ser," Aveline prompted, pointing at Sebastian's friend. "Who might you be?"
The tall man stood up and scowled at Skinny Anders before bowing low to the rest of the group. "Cameron Avery, Baron of Tisdale – friend an' advisor to his Royal Highness, Prince Sebastian Vael, at your service."
Aveline nodded. "Thank you, Baron Avery. And what is your grievance?"
"Cameron," he corrected. "Well, the thing is, I'm grateful an' all that ma author's made me handsome, an' that she's gifted me a bonny family, but she does like to make me out to be something of a numpty on occasion."
A quiet giggle was heard, and a cute female elf brought a hand to her mouth as she tittered. "What a brilliant word! I like that! Numpty. Numpty. Uh… what does it mean, by the way?"
"Och, forgive me, wee one! It means, wi'oot bein' indelicate, that I'm a complete bampot."
The female elf's face fell and she scratched her head. "I'm… still not getting you."
"It means moron," Aftermath Fenris clarified, his eyes fixed on the female elf. "An epithet with which I am certain you are intimately acquainted." His twin snorted and nodded his approval, receiving a dig to the ribs from Fletcher.
"Thank you, Cameron," said Aveline. "Your grievance is noted. Please take your seat."
Cameron again bowed and sat down. Aveline's eyes moved to Sebastian, who shook his head.
"I don't believe it would be helpful to raise my grievance at the present time," he said, resisting the urge to look at Skinny Anders. "Perhaps later."
"Fair enough. Fenris, if you would? Uh… if you both would. One at a time, if you please."
The Fenris to Sebastian's left stood up and lightly dusted his forearms. "I am Fenris. I believe I will also withhold my grievances until a later time." He did not resist the urge to look at Skinny Anders and took his seat, his gaze lingering on the mage for a moment.
"Next Fenris."
"Hold up a second," said Varric. "I can't write 'Fenris said this' and 'Fenris said that'. I need to distinguish between the two."
"How about 'Fenris' and 'Corporal Fenris?'" Aveline suggested, as one of the Fenrises – Fletcher's lover – was a guard in her regiment. "Would that be agreeable to you both?"
"Or 'Fenris' and 'Fen-Fen'," Fletcher chimed in, wincing at the glare he received from his elf.
"'Fen-Fen'?" queried the other Fenris, unable to contain his amusement.
"That is Corporal Fen-Fen to you!" Fletcher's lover shot back.
"Corporal Fen-Fen! I love it!" Varric laughed, making a note.
"Do not write one more word, dwarf," threatened the corporal. "Corporal Fenris will suffice. Do we understand each other?" he menaced as a pale blue glow streamed through his clothing.
"Sure, Corporal Cranky," Varric mumbled out of the side of his mouth.
A loud groan was heard from Aveline. "What would you like to say, Corporal?"
He thought about that for a moment before shrugging. "I… have no real complaints."
"Well, I'm not being funny, but what are you and Fletcher doing here, then?"
The elf pursed his lips and glanced at Fletcher. "He said it would be… 'good for a laugh'."
"This meeting is not a joke," insisted Aveline.
"Quite so. I have yet to hear anything even remotely diverting," sniffed the elven guard before taking his seat, renewing his glare at Fletcher, who batted his eyes in appeasement.
Aveline briefly rubbed her temples before turning to a pale, transparent man who floated in the corner. "And who are you?"
"You know very well who I am!" blustered the apparition. "I'm the poor sap who got killed off in both stories! And no hero's death, like saving a damsel in distress or sacrificing myself for the greater good or anything like that, oh, no! I got smushed into the ground by a bloody ogre, didn't I?"
"Oh yes, I think I do remember you," Aveline mused, her brow wrinkled. "Christopher, wasn't it?"
The ghost's pale aura trembled with indignation. "I like that! Christopher! Ha! That about sums it up, doesn't it? And why are there two Fenrises and two Anderses? There are supposed to be two of me! Even the sodding afterlife has got it in for me!"
"Oh, put a sock in it, Carver, you big tit!" Fletcher complained.
"Why should I? It's all right for you, being all alive and animated and solid and everything! I can't even slam my fist on the table in outrage because it passes through it! And as for going to the latrine… I don't even want to talk about that."
"Do spirits go to the latrine?" Aveline asked, and both Anderses nodded in unison.
"They can't bloody wipe themselves though, can they?" Ghost Carver bleated, fidgeting uncomfortably as he pulled his ethereal breeches out of the crack of his arse.
"Wait, how can you adjust your trousers if you can't wipe your arse?" Isabela teased, a twinkle in her eye as she gazed at Carver.
Ghost Carver rolled his eyes and tutted. "I can still use my hands! It's just that there's no... well, there's no blasted toilet paper in the afterlife. Not for Carver Hawke, anyway! They probably hid it, knowing I was coming, the bastards!"
Isabela tapped a finger against her chin, her eyes sweeping over Carver's formerly-muscular frame. "You can use your hands? Can you also use… other things?"
"Shut it, Whore," Aveline snapped. "We've no time for your base depravities today."
"Hey! I am what I'm written to be, just like you're written to be a scary half-man bitch. It's not our fault, is it?" the pirate reasoned with a small shrug as she stared at Carver, sending the dead man a wink. "He's a big, strapping fellow, who apparently still does... stuff."
"Please, Brother, just move on, for Maker's sake!" Lorelai urged, ignoring the others.
"This is gold!" chuckled Varric. "Pure gold!"
Sebastian stood up and addressed the irate ghost. "Please, do not upset my wife in her delicate condition."
"Condition?" Carver asked, and Varric whooped, punching the air.
"I guess they do teach you more than piety and turning the other cheek in that Chantry of yours, huh? Way to go, Choirboy!"
Aveline groaned as Skinny Anders shot up so quickly his chair fell over. "Only they didn't teach you anything, did they? Your wife's condition had nothing to do with you, you bloody thief!"
"You walk a dangerous path, abomination," Sebastian seethed as he rose, splotches of outrage blooming on his cheeks. "Not only are you a murderer-"
"A murderer?" Varric and Fletcher exclaimed at the same time.
"Now just a minute!" Varric protested. "Blondie's a little mixed up, sure, but a murderer?"
"We are not doing this!" Aveline shouted as she charged forward. "We all agreed before this meeting started that we would not discuss future events. Anders, if your author made you a murderer, you have every right to express your concerns but do so without going into too much detail…"
Anders glared, interrupting her. "Right, and again, my plight is minimized!"
"…When it is your turn to take the floor. You four! Over there!" She pointed at the far end of the room, addressing Lorelai, Sebastian, Cameron and Fenris. Anders turned as if to argue.
"Anders, this is your final warning! Any more stirring from you and I'll throw you in the cells!"
"I've been in worse places than that!" sneered the mage as the other four moved across the room.
"Are you all right, your Highnesses?" Aveline asked Sebastian and Lorelai, who nodded while Fenris sat where he could keep an eye on the abomination, but obscure him from the couple's sight.
"Let's get on, then!" Aveline directed, addressing the first Anders, who had remained quiet so far. "Anders, take the floor."
"Gonna need two more nicknames," Varric piped up.
"I'm happy with Blondie, if it'll keep the peace," said Fletcher's friend. "Is that all right? Blondie and Anders?"
Skinny Anders, seated to his side, nodded.
"Murderer, my ass!" Varric scoffed. "You see how helpful and peaceful he is? What a crock!"
"That's not very helpful," Aveline reprimanded the dwarf. "Anders- I mean, Blondie. Say your piece."
"All right… well, my author's made me a bit… weird. Sometimes I'm happy and sometimes I'm really depressed. Sometimes I'm nice and other times I'm a bit of a shit. And I'm really, really clingy. I fall in love at the drop of a hat and if I don't see my friends for a few days, I go into a sulk. I never used to be like this at Vigil's Keep! I didn't let anything get me down and I had regular sex. Honestly, my balls are like a pair of cantaloupes. Sorry, ladies, but it's true."
"Well, I'm sure we could work something out," chirped the big-breasted whore. "I live to help people."
"I'm sorry Isabela, but I don't have the ingredients in stock to make the cream I'd need afterwards," Blondie explained. "Besides, I don't have much money on me."
"Huh," muttered Aveline. "She doesn't need to sell it – she gives it away."
"And that's because I can," Isabela taunted, sidling closer to Blondie and laying a hand on his chest. "I expect you'd have to pay the men. Only it doesn't work that way, darling. Men have to like what they see for anything to happen. Helmets are such a boon, aren't they?"
"Why, you-!" Forgetting her own rules, Aveline charged forward, only to run into an outstretched arm.
"Why don't I chair the meeting?" Fletcher suggested, gently but firmly pushing Aveline back. "It sounds like you have a few grievances of your own."
"But we need someone who can keep order!" she protested, before the irony of her words sunk in.
Fletcher nodded over his shoulder at his staff. "This isn't for kindling, you know."
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "All right, Hawke. But no mage battles. Understood?"
"Hey, if there are any, they won't be started by me," he promised.
"That's right, put him in charge of everything!" spluttered Carver's ghost.
"Maker, Carver, apparently even an ogre can't beat good sense into you," Lorelai moaned in exasperation. "Not every wrong in the world is your own!"
"Quite right! You've had your turn!" answered Fletcher sternly. "Are you going to bitch all night or are you going to let these good people have their say? You know? Other people besides Carver Hawke? They do exist, you know!"
"Yes, make me look bad in front of everyone, why don't you?"
"You don't look that bad, love," offered Isabela, disappointed that Carver ignored her and instead continued to glare at Fletcher.
Fletcher waited a minute until Carver, confused that he hadn't drawn his brother into a shouting match, huffed and folded his arms.
"Right, now that Carver's had the last word, maybe we can move on. Merrill? Any complaints?"
The petite blood mage stood up and cleared her throat before sending a sympathetic smile Carver's way. The ghost's aura turned a faint shade of pink and he floated to the back of the room.
"Well, I've been written by two authors, like Carver and a few others here," she said with a quick look at Aveline, Varric and Isabela. "I'm guessing our stories aren't too different, and that's why there's only one of us here. I'd just like to know if anything exciting's going to happen to me. So far I've sat in the Hanged Man and polished the Eluvian a bit, and that's all."
Fletcher shrugged. "I'm sorry, none of us knows the answer to that. But Varric can record that as your grievance – that your storylines aren't very exciting? Would you like him to do that?"
"Oh, yes please," she answered with a grin at the dwarf, her own cheeks colouring as Varric inclined his head. "I, uh, I'll sit down, then. Thanks for listening."
"That is how you make your point, everyone," Fletcher told the group as Merrill sat down. "Thank you, Merrill. Who's next? Izzy?"
"No complaints here, Hawke," she drawled, flicking her hair over her shoulder, "other than you and Fenris don't like girls."
A derisive laugh escaped from Aveline's mouth. "Maybe they only told you that, and their whole relationship is a sham, just to keep you and your nasty diseases away from them."
"At least diseases can be cured. I doubt either Anders has a cure for a healed-up minge."
Aveline leapt to her feet and Fletcher readied his staff in case of trouble.
"I'll have you know that my… that has seen plenty of action!"
"Oh, you sweet thing," Isabela laughed, moving away from Blondie, a hand on the dagger at her hip. "You can't even say it. Do you have a pet name for it? Or does Donnic?" she asked, her eyes lighting up along with Varric's. She cleared her throat and affected a deep female voice. "Oh, Donnic? My mossy cottage is in need of maintenance. Bring your biggest tool along because, let's face it, it is rather a spacious dwelling."
"You bloody bitch!" Before the rest of the group had time to react, Aveline had tackled Isabela to the floor, sending the pirate's legs flying up into the air as they grappled.
"Oh, did you have to?" Fletcher grimaced, averting his eyes as Isabela's own mossy cottage was unveiled to the public. Most of the other men, however – with the exception of Corporal Fenris and Sebastian – looked on, slack-jawed and spellbound. "Somebody give me a hand!" ordered Fletcher.
"Best to let them work it out between themselves, Hawke," advised Varric, his eyes out on stalks.
"Aveline is fully-armoured! She'll kill her! Oh, for heaven's sake! Fen, help me out!"
Corporal Fenris assisted Fletcher to drag the furious captain off the pirate, and Merrill ran forward to cover Isabela's shame by pulling her tiny skirt down.
"Get over there!" Fletcher shoved Aveline towards the far side of the room while Corporal Fenris helped Isabela to her feet, abruptly refusing any offers of 'thanks' from the pirate. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Aveline! The captain of the guard brawling in a tavern?"
"She started it!"
"Right!" Fletcher grabbed Corporal Fenris's arm and moved the elf to his side. "Any more trouble and Fenris and I will step in! Got it?"
"You're not a guard, Hawke!" Aveline protested.
"No, but Fenris is, and you've just broken your own rules, so button it!" Fletcher leaned down as Corporal Fenris nudged him. "What is it, Fen?" he whispered.
"I will not act against my captain," murmured the elf.
"Fine," Fletcher sighed. "I'll keep an eye on her, you watch Merrill and the two Anderses. Is that satisfactory?"
A dark smile stretched the elf's mouth. "Most satisfactory."
Fletcher exhaled and wiped his perspiring brow with his sleeve. "And now, I'd quite like to get this meeting finished before they stop serving supper here! Is that all right with everyone?"
Hearing no arguments, he continued, his heart sinking as he turned to the next member of the group. "Okay… Anders from Aftermath. Let's hear what you have to say. And what Sebastian and the other Fenris have to say as well, I suspect," he said in a quiet aside to Corporal Fenris.
"Just a minute," Varric called out. "My quill's gone limp." He reached for his spare, inked it and waited expectantly as Anders slowly and dramatically rose to his feet, wearing a fierce glower.
"I'd like to know why my author – who is obviously a Chantry sympathiser – allowed my woman and child to be stolen by this pretend prince!" he accused, his voice quaking with fury as he pointed at Sebastian.
"You are unfit to raise a child!" Sebastian argued, standing up along with Aftermath Fenris.
"Assuming it even is a child," Fenris interjected to which Sebastian paused, clearly struggling for his composure.
Fletcher touched Corporal Fenris's arm, warning him to be ready.
Sebastian, his features tight, continued. "You murdered-"
"No spoilers!" Fletcher rebuked.
Sebastian pushed his jaw out and rolled his shoulders. "You have committed heinous acts against the Chantry, against Kirkwall and against humanity! That is why!"
"Oy! What about elfity?" Merrill demanded. "Why's it always humanity? Why are the elves always left out?"
"You have just answered your own question!" sniped Corporal Fenris.
"Shut up, all of you!" Anders raged, spittle flying from his mouth. "Lorelai," he pleaded, forcing softness into his voice.
Sebastian's tone, however, was deadly. "You will not speak to her, mage."
Behind him, Cameron drew his rapier. Aveline placed her hand on the hilt of her own sword and met Fletcher's eyes, and the mage nodded to indicate his readiness to act if the need should arise.
The skinny mage ignored everyone but Lorelai. "You've made your point. I get it. You know me, the real me! Justice was in control of my actions, I was but a puppet! He's the one that killed the–"
"No spoilers!" yelled the other characters in unison.
"Oh, stuff it!" he barked back before looking at Lorelai again. "You know it's me you really want and with Justice gone everything will be different, just like we'd dreamed of! I've done well for myself – I have a huge estate in the Tevinter Imperium with loads of slaves and I'm well respected among my fellow–"
"Magister!" Both Fenrises bellowed as they stalked toward Anders, their markings lighting up the lounge like a Satinalia tree.
"Fen!" Fletcher cried, sensing he was losing the crowd. "Get back here!"
"I must stand with him," Corporal Fenris insisted, "and deal with the magister scum!"
"No!" Sebastian commanded, squaring up to Anders, and the two men stood nose-to-nose. "You go too far, Anders, speaking to my wife in such a way. I demand satisfaction! We will settle this the Starkhaven way – like gentlemen!"
"Sebastian, be careful!" Lorelai exclaimed, while Cameron tried to guide her back to her seat, but she shrugged him off.
"Ye've got to let them sort it out man-to-man, woman!" Cameron urged and Lorelai, knowing he was right, glared coldly at Anders before returning to her seat.
"Fine, but only because it's better for the baby!" she hissed, her eyes on the skinny Anders. "Let him have it, Seb!"
"Like a gentleman?" scoffed Anders. "Is that what you call yourself? More like a home wrecker!"
"You were the one who wrecked it, Anders!" shouted Lorelai, angry with the deluded mage. "I bloody stabbed you and left you for dead! Take the hint and leave our family alone!"
"Your family? It's my family! You and that baby are mine!" Anders raged before turning his attention back to Sebastian. "All right, Vael! You want to settle this? Let's do it!"
"Wait," Varric said, looking up from his minutes. "He's the father and not Choir Boy? And you stabbed Anders? This I gotta hear!"
Isabela threw her head back and laughed. "Hey! Everyone's got their kinks, Varric, maybe it was just some friendly knife play?" she offered before noticing that everyone was staring oddly at her. "What? Ugh! You're all a bunch of prudes! Hawke, you'll have to tell me how you managed to shag one and marry the other once they're done braining each other!"
Fletcher cursed under his breath and shook his head. "Isabela! You're not helping! And Varric? Would you please just take the minutes without the commentary?" he implored. Isabela giggled and Varric shrugged. With a sigh, Fletcher turned to the archer and the skinny mage. "Remove your weapons," he instructed, "or else it won't be a fair fight. And no magic, Anders, or I'll drain you."
"There will be no fighting!" Aveline insisted.
"Oh, shut up, Aveline!" chorused every single person in the pub – bar staff included – and she folded her arms, throwing out a churlish scowl.
"That's fine, Hawke! I won't need my magic to kick this little wussy's arse!" Anders declared, backing up a step and making elaborate chopping-like motions in the air. He followed these with a high kick.
Sebastian arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Are you plannin' on fannin' me to death? Stop dancin' about like a lassie."
Anders made a strange noise. "Wahhh! Ay-ya!" he cried, again wildly kicking his legs and swinging his arms in a wide circle.
Isabela giggled. "Oh, that's fabulous! I've not seen moves like that since I watched a can-can routine at that little whorehouse in Amaranthine! Anders, is that where you learnt them?"
The skinny mage paused. "No! I was trained by a deadly Antivan assassin, so this pious bastard had best be on his guard! That elf had moves like lightning! No one saw it coming when he struck o-"
At that moment, Sebastian smashed his fist into the mage's face, blood immediately erupting from his nose.
"Didn't quite teach you the lightning, eh?" Lorelai laughed, cheering as Anders fell to the floor.
"Oh, come on," Blondie groaned from his chair. "I know we're technically not the same fellow, but honestly, get up already! You're making me look bad!"
Sebastian did not press his advantage and waited, as a gentleman should, for Anders to stand up. Once the mage was on his feet, the archer spoke. "Do you yield?"
"Fuck off!" he snarled, wiping his nose, smearing blood on his coat. He charged forward, wrapping his arms around the archer, attempting to force him down to the wooden floor. Sebastian staggered back, nearly losing his footing, but hunkered down and held fast.
They struggled, pushing one another back and forth until Anders freed an arm and swung wide, cuffing Sebastian on the side of his head. The prince pushed Anders back hard, separating them.
"Ha!" Anders roared. Blondie sank a bit lower in his seat.
Sebastian glared, breathing hard.
"Why are you doing this, anyway? You know you'll lose her to me by story's end!" Anders spat. "She loved me for years! It took you, what, eighteen bloody chapters to get her into your bed? Only took me a few hours of game play!" A tin mug bounced off the side of the mangy mage's head. "Hey!"
"Arsehole! You arrogant, sneaky shit!" Lorelai bellowed, grabbing another mug from the tabletop. "This is all your fault, you blighted nutter!"
Anders deflected the next mug but the distraction meant he missed spotting Sebastian's oncoming charge. The bulkier man lifted the mage off his feet and slammed him onto an adjacent table. The archer began to rain blows down onto the blond man's body.
"Oh, no you don't!" Fletcher cried, raising his staff, having detected a discharge of mana from the cheating Anders. At that moment, there was a modest 'whoosh' of air and Sebastian backpedalled away from Anders, who instantly stood. Fletcher's staff emitted a flash of light and Anders sagged, his powers drained. At the same time, both Fenrises, their markings fully lit, slammed bodily into the skinny mage.
A sickening crunch was heard as two glowing fists penetrated Anders's breastbone, and then both Fenrises paused while Anders gurgled, his body twitching as his eyes rolled back in his head.
"Oh, pardon me… would you like to–?" Aftermath Fenris politely offered.
Corporal Fenris decisively shook his head. "No. It is your friends he has wronged. To me, he is but a magister receiving his due."
"If you are certain? I've hunted this man for some time."
"Oh, come on! Will one o' you just pull already?" Cameron called from behind Sebastian. "Or are ye makin' a wish?"
Corporal Fenris ignored the baron and withdrew his hand from Anders's chest cavity. "I insist."
With that, Aftermath Fenris twisted his arm and Anders gurgled out a sound similar to a squawking hen as the light left his eyes. A satisfied smirk was seen on the elf's face as the mage's body slumped to the wooden floor.
"Oy! Cleanin' tharrup will cost ye extra!" Norah said as she walked past, glancing down at the dead man.
The others had gathered round, each attendee looking down at the now–deceased Anders.
"Oh, now that left a mark," Isabela observed wryly.
"Stupid git," Lorelai muttered, not bothering to care if anyone watched as she delivered a final, swift kick to the mage's flaccid leg.
Fletcher pulled a face, leaning in close to his lover's pointed ear. "Hawke or no, remind me to not get on her bad side."
Ghost Carver, who had also been gawking at the dead mage, did a double-take as a mangy, skinny ghost materialised at his side.
"Hey! I saw that, Lorelai! Shame on you!" the new apparition announced, rubbing his leg, to which Lorelai simply pulled a face and stuck out her tongue. "Yes, well, enjoy this while you can, you lot! You know our author's just going to attack this whole scene with her beta anyway, there's no way this will stand! I'll be back!"
Varric, who was now on quill number three, howled delightedly with laughter. "Oh, no, Aveline! Nothing worth writing about at all!"
"Oh, and thanks a bunch, Fenris!" Ghost Anders whined. "You could have let me stash a few sheets of toilet paper in my pockets before you killed me! I had a heavy lunch, you know!" He clutched at his belly as Carver's aura trembled violently.
"Well, that's just bloody typical, isn't it?" the younger Hawke ghost seethed. "Another poor chump banished to the afterlife with no means of wiping himself!"
"Bastards!" Ghost Anders fumed.
"Yes, they're all bastards!" agreed Carver. "Somebody should do something about this!"
"Wait a minute!" Ghost Anders's eyes widened and he snapped his transparent fingers. "We can do something about it! For too long spirits of the Fade have had to do without the basic right to toilet paper and wiping one's arse! Justice used to have terrible problems with his arse – itching, piles, and they don't make creams for it in the Fade! I will not stand by and let this happen again!" He roughly grabbed Carver's shoulders, a manic light in his eyes. "You and me, Carver – together, we'll start another revolution! You and me!"
"Yes," Carver murmured huskily, his eyes meeting Anders's as his fellow ghost's words deeply stirred him. "You and me."
A ragged exhalation came from both men as they stared at each other for a long moment. Then, Anders grabbed Carver's hand and dragged him to the back of the pub, where they floated through the door of a vacant room.
"Hey!" shouted Isabela, giving chase. "Save some for me!" She ran to the room and let herself in before the door was slammed and bolted. A few minutes later, the pub was filled with the sounds of creaking bed springs and ghostly moaning.
"Well, Bethany called that one," Fletcher commented to Lorelai. "Rather, my Beth did, anyway. How about yours?"
"Oh, my Carver was out of the closet by age fourteen," she answered. "I wouldn't have thought that of Anders, though."
"Ha, shows what you know," Merrill said, surprising them all. "We Dalish are very aware of such things." She tapped her temple. "It's like a sixth sense or something."
"So when you met me..." Fletcher prodded, a look of disbelief on his face. Merrill nodded and offered a smile. "Well, there you have it, then!"
"Wahey!" Cameron cheered as the moaning grew louder and more urgent. "Sounds like they need a bit o' mineral oil on those springs, doesn't it?"
Sebastian rolled his eyes while Lorelai, having returned to her husband's side, placed her hands on her hips. "And you think our author writes you as a numpty? You write yourself!" she declared good-naturedly as Sebastian kissed her temple.
"Harpy," commented Cameron with a snort of laughter as he followed the couple to the exit.
"Do they have oil in the Fade, Hawke?" Varric asked his friend as the mage slumped in the seat next to him.
Fletcher shrugged. "Probably not, if they don't have toilet paper. It sounds like they're managing without it, though."
Quickly nodding, Varric made further notes. "Do you and Broody manage without it?"
"No bloody chance. He's like a baby's arm. A morbidly obese baby that's been working out. And, between you and me, it glows."
"What, like his markings?" asked the dwarf, fascinated, as he frantically wrote the details down.
"Yes, just like his markings," laughed Fletcher, rolling his eyes that Varric actually believed him. About the glowing bit, anyway.
When Varric had stopped writing, he sighed and sat back in his chair. "You know, Hawke, I'll bet our authors are having a good laugh about all of this."
"Of course they are! They wrote this, didn't they?"
"You think so?"
"Oh, I knowso! Would normal people in their right minds act like we do?"
"Hm, I guess you're right." He snapped his large book closed. "Well, I'd better go and… write the minutes up. You know, neatly."
"Not going to write a story then?" asked Fletcher with a knowing grin.
Varric rose and hefted Bianca onto his back. "Well, if I do, you can blame our authors. This is how they wrote us, isn't it?"
"Catch you later," Fletcher said with a nod of agreement before he sought out his Fenris, who was wiping Anders's blood off his hand while comparing notes with the other characters of Aftermath, waiting a few yards away.
"It seems our lives are rather... different," Aftermath Fenris said to his twin. "All the same, I am grateful that you were willing to intervene on my friend's behalf."
"Still wish someone would just tell me what Anders did," Fletcher muttered, glancing around. Corporal Fenris shot him a meaningful look. "What? Don't mind me."
Corporal Fenris turned back to his twin. "Will you attend any further meetings? Assuming any occur?"
"Knowing our authors' habits as I do, it is likely that what Anders declared is correct, and he will soon find these scenes altered in his favour or deleted outright," Fenris replied. "I assure you, in that case, each of us will attend the next meeting, if for no other reason than to duplicate tonight's events."
"Then I shall see you again," Corporal Fenris said with a quick bow.
Fenris matched the gesture and then nodded at Fletcher. "Good evening to you both."
Fletcher and Fenris watched as the elf joined his fellow characters and they waved farewell to the cast of Aftermath.
"You know, Fen, I've always had this fantasy… one of you is incredible, but two?"
Fenris folded his arms, his lips quirking. "And what would I get out of such an arrangement?"
"A rest?"
"Forget it." Corporal Fenris pushed Fletcher towards the door, none too gently.
"I suppose I'll just have to make do with you, then," sighed Fletcher with an exaggerated pout.
"I fear so, yes." They exchanged a fond smile and slipped out into the night, the chairperson for the next meeting as yet undecided.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all! Thank you for reading!
*Varric is not responsible for any of the content of this story. Blame the authors - we assure you, the characters do.