A/n: I'm not even sorry. Leave a review and I'll return the favor.
A pleasant night thick with summertime heat rising from chalk white stone and completed by five blood splattered figures standing in the shadowed entrance way of one of Hightown's mansions. Beyond that door lay countless derelict rooms filled to the brim with broken furniture and fresh corpses. Hawke would lose no sleep over it, a slaver's worth would only ever be found in feeding the scavengers and he was only too happy to help them fulfill that purpose.
Course that had been the straightforward part... well sort of. Perhaps 'easy' was a better if not quite accurate word. Yeah, Anso had lied to them, that had been obvious within a moment of the dwarf speaking. So what? If it meant offing a few more slavers then that was pay enough for Hawke, but like all other facets of his life, nothing was ever that simple.
Shale grey eyes in a tan face and an easy smile on his lips. Hawke's tried and true mask, slipping at the corners when confronted by open hatred that tasted oh so familiar. Apostate. Mage. Maleficar in waiting.
A lyrium lined warrior staring him down and hissing accusations punctuated with what would only ever be growls of disdain. Nevermind the offered help, the bait and switch that led to this moon drenched moment in a hushed Hightown square. No, that hatred was keen from years of sharpening. No blade could ever hold so fine an edge as what Fenris was brandishing in his words alone.
What did he want from Hawke exactly? An apology for being born? Should he take a knee and wring his hands? Not a fucking chance.
"Oh good, another ass. Welp, I can see you've got a lecture all prepared so let me have it." Hawke could just catch Varric's swift inhale from his right and Carver's groan from over his shoulder but neither stopped him from digging himself a deeper grave. "But just so you know, I'm going to stare at you luridly while you talk so if you'd be so kind... make it a long one."
You could almost hear the seconds pass. It was a peculiar feeling, like being pinned to a wall but not quite trapped, that this elf was managing to put Hawke's pulse in his throat with just a look… well Hawke didn't quite know what to think about that. Add it to an already long list for the evening's affairs.
The tension broke with an abrupt laugh that was swiftly covered by a cough.
"At least you speak your mind. I won't fault you that." Fenris straightened enough that they were as close to eye level with one another as it was possible to be, "So tell me, what kind of mage are you?" A pointed question. Pointed being the best descriptor for the elf in front of Hawke. Sharp features, a gaze cutting into the quick of him with shades of jaded green, literal spikes coming off his shoulders. The only soft thing about him seemed to be his hair, all feathery and wisping about high cheekbones and stern brows.
"What kind of question even is tha.." Surprising to those who knew him, Anders had remained quiet for the exchange up to this point. Exhaustion at having to patch up your reckless allies will do that to you. Hawke cut him off with a raised hand.
"The charming kind of course."
"There is no such thing." Fenris' derisive snort was tinged with something inbetween disbelief and amusement.
"No? There isn't any roguish, possibly dashing apostates running around here who would risk life, limb and templar wrath to help a man fighting for his freedom against shade and slaver alike?"
"You forgot the bit about sprinting all the way from the alienage, after being given the runaround, oh and then headlong into a house trapped to oblivion with nothing but a single elf's word to go off of." Varric interjected with arms crossed and head shaking, always such a helpful dwarf.
A sigh then, the broodiest sigh ever exhaled into the night air. So tired, so frustrated, so angsty. "I must seem ungrateful."
" 'Seem' isn't the word I'd use kid." Varric muttered just low enough for implied politeness.
Fenris chose not to comment on that, pretended he couldn't hear it even as he took a few slow steps in Hawke's direction. It was difficult to keep hostility from etching itself into his movements, to keep from bristling at the idea of willinging walking this close to yet another mage. But he managed, coin purse hefted in one gauntlet clad hand. A purse which he intended to place in Hawke's own palm and not into that smirking face. Tempting as the latter was.
"Here, what coin I have is yours. And I am grateful for your aid even if we did not face Danarius himself."
But the smirk only widened, a full on grin that turned Hawke's otherwise angular features into an expression of boyish cheek. "Nope, no charge for this one. Consider it on the house." Hawke pulled his patchwork coat tighter around himself and shrugged at the look Fenris now leveled at him. "What?"
"I… you… why?"
"Because."
"You are a very strange human."
"Nah just a thirsty one," he gave Varric's shoulder a nudge. Subtle Hawke, real subtle. "Come on Carver, if we hurry we can grab a drink before mother throws a hissy fit."
"Like she isn't going to have kittens already. I look like I fell asleep in a slaughterhouse." 'Little Hawke' was still watching the glowing elf standing a little too close to his brother with a scowl all his own. He was pretty sure he could get his broadsword unsheathed and between the two of them if need be. But could he move faster than a lyrium marked fist?
"Well we could dunk you in the harbor if that helps." Hawke's attention lazily flitted over Anders who was cover mostly in their blood and not the slavers, Varric whose boots had suffered the worse and finally his own heavily worn trousers, coat and scuffed boots covered in a fine layer of ash. Even the crimson sash he wore as a belt had been tinged grey by the remnants of some shade. But they'd looked far worse over far less so he couldn't complain much.
"I owe you something for this." Fenris cut through Hawke's wandering mind with an effortless verbal slice. "If not coin, then what?"
Another shrug, like Hawke couldn't get his shoulders to settle. Or maybe seeing the stiffness of Fenris' shoulders gave his own sympathy pains. "You could buy me a drink if you're really set on this 'owing' me business. I certainly won't say no at least. Unless it's butterbile, even I have some standards."
Fenris glowered, as if the narrowing of his eyes would make the same sound as his lips forming the words 'I am not amused by your joking.' …. 'Mage'.
"Or don't... fine, up to you and all that." Hawke skirted around him, having enough sense as to not so much as let their clothing come into contact. "Well, take care then. And give us a shout if you need us."
And he left. Strange human indeed.
Two weeks passed before Fenris took it upon himself to track Hawke and company down. They were not difficult to find. In fact he wondered why they didn't take that final step and post a sign outside the Hanged Man to proclaim themselves fully. They'd done just about everything else to make their presence known.
Inside was a smoke laden, sour smelling, noisy room that managed to be large for a lowtown tavern but every bit as cramped as one might expect such an establishment to be. Rough chairs were crowded around thick and heavily stained tables with no decor to speak of beyond dirt and empty bottles. So many unwashed bodies sandwiched against each other on low slung benches or half toppled off of them as was often the case, made walking something of a chore.
He found the man in question in the center of it, laughing at something Fenris hadn't been in time to hear.
"Bullshit Isabela, nobody sober thinks 'scintillating biscuit' is a good…" He stopped short when he caught sight of the not currently glowing elf hovering just beyond the circle of conversation. "Ah Fenris! Come to take me up on that offer of drinks I see. Well pull up a seat already."
"Should I be surprised you remember my name?" That came out more suspicious than he'd intended and he slid into an open seat across from Hawke with a touch more grace. What was he even doing here? This was a mistake.
"Hardly. I'm excellent with names, particularly ones attached to attractive faces." That lopsided grin was back of course, matched only by the devious curl of lip worn by the woman to Hawke's left. He shouted to the closest server, a scowling woman with a messy bun and clipped words. She passed them fresh mugs, Hawke passed her coppers, it was all quite routine.
"So introductions then?" Hawke didn't have the patience for his little band to give their names themselves of course. "Fenris, this jewel of the sea to my left is Isabe…" A sharp elbow in the ribs made Hawke wince yet chuckle, "fine, Captain Isabela. You've already met Varric," the Dwarf in question was shuffling a deck of cards and merely nodded as his name was given, "and my brother Carver."
Now that he could see them both in better lighting and not covered in the remnants of a scrap, Fenris could see traces of resemblance. Carver was a touch paler than his brother and longer in the face, the set of his eyes betraying a certain air of melancholy as he glowered over the rim of his mug.
"And the sultry fellow to my right is Anders."
"I was there when you met him, Hawke." Yes, Fenris remembered the blonde from that first night. Another mage if memory served, with a quick mouth and shadows under his eyes. "Not exactly pleasant if you remember."
Hawke let the comment and the implication roll right past without acknowledgment, his focus decidedly elsewhere. "So, just here for the watered down ale or did you need something?" At least he was quick to the point.
"I still owe you, I thought we might discuss repayment." Fenris tested the contents of his own glass and grimaced, having had a magister's wine cellar to pilfer the last two weeks had spoiled him it seemed. Or the Hanged Man really did water down their drinks.
"Ooooh a debt?" Isabela purred, caressing the corner of her bottom lip with a nail tip. "What kind of debt? The shiny kind or the half dressed kind?"
"What even… you can tell me about it later. But no, he doesn't owe me anything." More directly Hawke reiterated, "I mean it, Fenris. And if they come around again I'll be happy to bust more heads with you. Could probably get Aveline to lend a hand too, when she's not too busy training to be guard captain."
Fenris was on the verge of arguing with the stubborn man when another, rougher voice cut in.
"You know we could always use another sword arm, Hawke." Varric had finished shuffling and was passing around the next hand of wicked grace. To Fenris' surprise he'd been dealt in without even being asked. The dwarf did not look at him as he spoke, keeping his tone light and his posture casual behind the spill of his cards. "And weren't you planning to traipse up Sundermount tomorrow? Might be useful to have an elf along if you're going to tangle with the dalish. I hear they shoot first when it comes to humans."
"I suppose…" A sleek black brow had quirked upon Hawke's face, his gaze shifting from Varric to Fenris several times until finally asking, "I mean if you're willing?"
"I have had no dealings with the dalish before." Fenris was quick to point out. But upon realizing what Varric was actually proposing he added, "However, if another blade is required then I shall lend mine."
"It isn't." This from Carver, barely a whisper and said to no one in particular. The elder Hawke rolled his eyes and within a second Carver swore and was rubbing at a now sore shin.
Conversation and mood took a moment to recover before falling back into pleasurable territory. It was odd, Fenris hadn't intended to stay longer than a handful of moments, just long enough to talk to Hawke and then back to his decrepit mansion. But the hours stretched on and even though he spoke only when addressed, he found a sort of pleasant lull in listening to the others. It was there that he learned of the planned expedition to the Deep Roads and the reason behind it. All the more baffling that Hawke had turned down his coin. Irritating if he thought about it too much. Trust a mage to be so foolish.
When all was said and done, or rather, when Carver finally stormed off in a huff and Hawke left hot on his heels, Fenris bid the rest of the group farewell. With the promise of his debt soon to be repaid he would hopefully sleep easier tonight.