Edit - Now a fully beta'd fic by the skilful eye of Whitedatura. ;-)
Moments in Time - Wedding (Part 1)
Fenris tugged idly at the cuff of his new linen shirt. He felt decidedly uncomfortable without his usual, well-fitting armour, but Hawke had promised that a wedding was no place for it. She had been mostly right. Only a few of Aveline's guards had attended their Captain's wedding in full gear. Still, he felt vulnerable and out of place.
It wasn't that he hadn't been grateful for Hawke's friendly input - her 'input' being paying for the shirt he liked the most. She'd also been the one to suggest a white shirt might do something to disguise the lyrium brands on his skin, and it had, for the most part. He lifted his arm, fastidiously assessing the shirt's success in making the hint of lyrium that glowed through appear part of some subtle pattern on the fabric. The effect seemed to go quite well with the intricate, embroidered detailing the shirt already possessed. It was a nice shirt. He ran his hand over the raised stitching thoughtfully. A very nice shirt in fact, he corrected mentally. It just wasn't him. With a long sigh he considered his promise to Aveline and, not for the first time, scoffed audibly at the memory of it. 'I'll endeavour to exist with less offence.' He couldn't really complain, what better place to start keeping his promise than at her wedding?
His long pointed ear twitched reflexively as raucous laughter drew his attention, and he lifted his head to see Varric emerging from a group of avid listeners.
"It's true, it's true!" proclaimed Varric, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Ask Hawke. Donnic thought she was totally after him!" More hysterics followed, and Varric was left chuckling to himself as he approached Fenris.
That's a story I haven't heard before, Fenris thought, raising a cynical eyebrow as they regarded each other for a moment.
"You know, Elf, though I realise we've established that brooding is a national sport in Tevinter, it's not so commonly accepted at weddings."
Fenris rolled his eyes. "I'm very conspicuous here," he stated dryly.
"Elf, you're conspicuous everywhere. It's part of your mopey charm," Varric explained with a chuckle. Fenris looked away. "At least you've made an effort not to look like you hate everyone," Varric added, casting an appraising eye over Fenris's new attire. "Nice touch. Hawke's doing, I assume?"
"She was... insistent!" Fenris answered, his expression bordering on irritated.
"Yeah, she can be that," agreed Varric. "Good thing, too. I wouldn't want to mess with Aveline on her wedding day! The tattoo showing through thing really is kinda cool."
Fenris quickly looked down at himself again; perhaps the shirt wasn't doing quite the job he thought.
"Ah, don't worry Elf, no one's looking at you with my chest hair around," said Varric, tapping his open collar, hoping to mollify Fenris's sudden discomfort. "What are you drinking anyway?" he asked, swiping the bottle swiftly off the table and having a quick sniff. "Maker's Breath!" he coughed. "No wonder your head's so..." Varric lifted his hands to either side of his own and motioned them back and forth, momentarily speechless.
"Round?" Fenris offered.
"Inclined!" Varric finished, giving his eyes a quick rub. "That was like dragon breath and dragon piss combined."
"Having never tried either of those, I can't really comment."
"Well, believe me, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference," croaked Varric. Fenris unsuccessfully stifled a laugh. "There, you see," the dwarf began after clearing his throat, smiling at the unusual sight in front of him. "It is possible to make a broody elf laugh."
"As long as the joke doesn't start with how many dwarfs it took to do it," added Anders jovially, suddenly appearing and clapping the dwarf on the shoulder companionably. Fenris's expression darkened again instantly.
"I thought Justice wouldn't let you out to play?" Varric enquired, lifting his chin toward the flagon of something stronger than water in Anders's hand.
"I said Justice wouldn't let me get drunk and I'm not. I can still enjoy an evening with good friends."
"You should try that more often then Blondie, might help relieve some of that tension you seem determined to carry around all the time."
"By 'tension' you mean demon," corrected Fenris, his eyes boring into the mage hatefully.
"Care to say that a bit louder?" asked Anders sardonically. "I'm sure some people didn't hear you."
"It wasn't something I was trying to keep quiet," Fenris retorted. His disgust with the abomination was suddenly distracted, however, when Anders, having decided to ignore Fenris's final comment, unwittingly brought Hawke to his attention.
With a nod of his head in her direction, Anders said quietly to Varric, "Doesn't she look beautiful tonight?"
It wasn't really a question, but Fenris found himself silently agreeing. She was standing across from where he had been sitting, laughing animatedly with Aveline, Donnic, and a few other people Fenris didn't recognise.
"Ah Blondie, you've been barking up that tree for years now..." Varric replied, and Fenris quickly tuned him out. Hawke's close friendship with the abomination was not a subject he wished to learn more about. It had caused enough heated words between himself and Hawke already; he didn't need more information to help fuel further arguments. Besides, his eyes suddenly found themselves very busy taking in the very unusual sight of said woman in a dress.
Her everyday attire of cotton shirts and leathers meant she was often passed as a lightly armoured rogue rather than a mage, especially with the single dagger she normally had sheathed to her thigh. A useful assumption when one is an apostate, he guessed. It was often the last mistake a bandit made before receiving a lightning bolt to the face.
Fenris himself had made this very same assumption when he'd first met her years ago, though the long axe at her back had seemed like an odd weapon for one so slender. It had both shocked and frustrated him when he'd seen otherwise. He should have known. Fate found a way of mocking him at every given opportunity. Her brother, he remembered, had been very protective at the time, certainly more offended than she had been at any problem the elf might have had with her. She did have a talent for diplomacy that her brother sorely lacked.
To look at her now, though, I can't quite believe I've missed her. Perhaps I have been keeping my head inclined too much! Fenris looked at the bottle in his hand briefly and shook his head.
Tonight, her usually sedate raven hair was delicately braided into several long loops at the back of her head and studded with sparkling red and white gemstones. The floor length robe she wore was a deep blue, almost the colour of midnight, with a dark red accent adorning the seams and edging of a well-fitting bodice, accentuating curves he hadn't realised she possessed. The fine material clung and gathered in wondrous places, scooping modestly low about her neck to the front and back, and though the sleeves were long they cut away at the shoulders. Altogether, her outfit revealed far more of her than he'd ever seen before.
She looked stunning.
She looked like a mage, he realised bitterly.
The dark thought that she would've made a very desirable Magister in Tevinter came unbidden to his mind. But desirable to who, exactly? Me?
A sudden lump formed in his throat. This isn't right, he thought gloomily and forced himself to look away, glugging uncomfortably on a mouthful of wine.
She is a mage. Always a mage. My friend? Yes, but always a mage.
Even as he ran through this personal mantra in his mind, his eyes betrayed him by drifting back to her. Now that he knew she was there it was difficult not to pay attention to her.
He'd always thought her pretty, that was no secret. He wasn't blind. He'd even told her so once, though he had been swiftly approaching the end of his third bottle of Agreggio at the time. She had made light of it, graciously accepting the compliment, her enchanting eyes twinkling and not leaving him to feel like a fool.
Fenris remembered that conversation would have been difficult enough without his alcoholic indulgence, though most likely impossible as well.
He'd ended up telling her so many things. Things he'd never told anyone before, and she'd listened, at length, without a trace of anger or, worse, pity while he had unwrapped his heart before her; she simply offered understanding when his confessions were spent. It had been at that moment he'd realised she truly was his friend, and that had always been the most striking thing about her to him. Not her considerable looks, but her calm kindness, her friendship.
How often had she deflated his anger or made him laugh unexpectedly? She was nothing but genuine. There was no hidden agenda. No lust for power. Only a desire to do what was right by those closest to her. It was something that completely flummoxed him more often than not. Frustrating him indefinitely as a person, as a mage, Hawke unwittingly tested every idea he had formed in his hatred and experience of others like her.
She would make a terrible Magister, he decided.
"Hawke's a fine woman, no doubt," Fenris heard Varric respond. Evidently the conversation had continued while Fenris had been lost in his own thoughts. "But I wouldn't say I was the best judge of human beauty. Get past a certain height, you all just start to look alike. You know? Big feet, tiny heads! "
"Varric, are you blind?" Anders asked incredulously.
"No, just short," Varric replied with a forced sigh. "Perhaps Elf could give you a better opinion?" Fenris nearly choked.
"What? Fenris?" Anders sputtered. "He'd have to forget she was a mage first to be able to see anything else, and we know that's not likely to happen!" The accuracy of the abomination's assumption sent a spike of irritation through Fenris.
"Oh, I don't think he's without an opinion, Blondie. He's been staring at her for the past few minutes," Varric offered, returning Fenris's scowl with a smirk.
When Anders finally acknowledged that he was sitting only a few feet away, Fenris was forced to look at each of them for a moment before he shrugged. "I will not be party to this, my thoughts are my own."
"That good 'ey?" asked Varric cheekily. Fenris glared at him, but he remained undaunted by the expression and simply smiled.
"There, you see!" declared Anders, turning back to Varric.
"Well, Blondie, that might just be the best compliment she could receive. Elf's certainly not one to hold back on mages usually."
"If I had any compliment to give, I'd give it directly. Anything else is beside the point and none of your business," Fenris stated flatly, looking pointedly at Varric.
"Ooohoo!" Varric chimed. "That just makes it sound all the more juicy. You'd best get to drinking again. I imagine it'll take a fair amount of that dragon piss to loosen your tongue."
"More than you could afford to buy me, Varric," promised Fenris confidently.
"That sounds like a challenge."
"Would it be so hard to speak your mind if she weren't a mage?" Anders asked softly, ignoring the ongoing banter.
Why the abomination should care or even want to know what he thought was beyond Fenris. "Unimportant," he answered shortly. "The fact still remains that she is one."
Anders scoffed angrily. "Your prejudice disgusts me," he muttered quietly enough so only Varric and Fenris could hear him.
Fenris's eyes darkened in anger. "Why would you even want to know what I think?"
"I don't! I just don't understand what she sees in you," Anders challenged. "You've done nothing but spit every kindness she's offered you back in her face, and yet... she remains your friend."
"I'm not fuelling a rogue's tale with errant thoughts," Fenris argued, gesturing absently toward Varric and receiving an indignant "Hey!" from the dwarf. "That's spitting Hawke's kindness back in her face?"
"You know, there really is a story right here somewhere," Varric jumped in. "I'm just trying to decide how Hawke would take being caught in a 'love triangle' between a possessed mage and a broody, mage-hating elf? Do wonders for her ego, I'm sure."
"She deserves better," Anders said solemnly, ignoring Varric's jibe.
"With that I agree," Fenris replied smoothly, privately only meaning her continued friendship with the abomination in front of him.
"Blondie? Isn't there a chance you might just be a little bit... I don't know, jealous?" Varric asked with a frown. The question drew Fenris's gaze to Hawke mingling amongst the nobility of Kirkwall, invited to the wedding out of political politeness. Though Fenris felt he knew better, she did appear at home in their company. "'Cause I realise she has other friends in her life these days," Varric added, also looking at Hawke. "It's a far cry from nights at the Hanged Man, that's for sure."
"Of course there's a chance," Anders blurted out. "I'm not so blind that I don't see how she's distanced herself from me... since..." He looked at Fenris.
"Since you nearly murdered a girl you were trying to protect?" Fenris offered condescendingly, frustrated further by the mage's intent glare. Hawke wasn't standing there talking to him, after all.
Varric rolled his eyes. "You had to bring that up?" he asked Fenris under his breath.
Anders noticeably winced at Fenris's reminder of what he had nearly allowed Justice to do. If Hawke hadn't been there - it didn't bear thinking about, though it constantly haunted his mind. "Since her interest has been drawn, however undeservedly, elsewhere," Anders finished, his eyes filled with venom.
"Blondie..."
"I love her, Varric," Anders admitted, though his eyes remained on Fenris. "You can't possibly comprehend!"
"Don't bare your heart to me, mage," Fenris threatened, "less you'd have me rip it out. You're less than a man to me, Anders, you're an abomination. I'd have no qualms about doing it." It's only because Hawke cares that I haven't done it already. Fenris's grip on the neck of his wine bottle was fierce, though his voice was deadly calm as he glared at the mage.
An ethereal glow suddenly flickered through Anders's eyes as he took an intimidating step toward the seated elf. "I'm not afraid of you, Fenris." The voice that carried the claim dropped an octave as the Fade spirit within him struggled to burst out.
Fenris started to get to his feet, undaunted by the display. He'd seen it before. It only proved yet again that Anders had no control, despite his constant, whiny assurances to the contrary. Why is Hawke not here to witness this? It would do her good to see what she allows so close!
"Whoa now!" Varric yelled and bravely stepped in front of Anders. "Perhaps before you two go at it we could remember where we are? Whose wedding this is!"
For a split second Anders only stared down at Varric, eyes glowing, watching as he swallowed nervously before forcing them closed. Anders pinched the bridge of his nose and visibly hunched in on himself.
"No," he commanded, shaking his head and fully regaining control. "I will not be goaded like this." Without another word he turned and shakily made his way over to where Hawke still remained with the bride and groom, blissfully unaware of all that had just transpired.
"You had to bring up the Justice thing, didn't you?" Varric asked Fenris, breathing slightly easier as he watched Anders walk away.
"That mage," Fenris began, wrapping his mouth around the word like it was barely a suitable description for the abomination. "is a danger to us all. To Hawke most of all, but she refuses to see it!"
Varric looked back at Fenris, his eyes clearly questioning the evident frustration and concern in his voice. "Oh, I think she sees it, Elf. She just wants to help him."
"He's an abomination!" growled Fenris, like that should be enough explanation for any sane person. "He went beyond the point of help when he willingly took that Fade spirit in."
"You know, Elf, I seem to recall you once taking a demon's offer," stated Varric pointedly, meeting Fenris's dark glare. "Perhaps you could consider giving Blondie a break?"
"And how did Hawke respond to that particular shortcoming?" Fenris asked. Varric had unintentionally proved Fenris's point by reminding him of one of the most regretted decisions he'd ever made.
Varric chuckled. "I love how you ask that like you have any idea." Fenris merely waited expectantly. "She kicked your ass right out of the Fade," Varric answered before smiling roguishly, "in impressively short order, I might add."
"Precisely."
"So your problem is not really that Anders has Justice, but that Hawke doesn't kick his ass over it?"
Fenris didn't answer that observation, wondering if that really was the problem.
Varric took his silence as confirmation. "Well... what makes you think she hasn't?"
Fenris turned back to Hawke then, watching her expression alter from happy to concerned as Anders caught her attention. He couldn't hear what was said, but saw her reach out and place her hand on the mage's arm in comfort.
That, he thought in answer to Varric's question, insides squirming at the sight of her sliding her fingers so easily over Anders's skin. He swore under his breath.
Am I really just jealous? he wondered uncomfortably, rubbing at his own arm, his mind dwelling on how it would feel to have Hawke touch him in such an easy manner. I really need to stop drinking.
Unaware of how closely Varric was watching his reaction, Fenris jumped slightly when Varric spoke again.
"There is some truth to what Blondie said. It's not just the Justice thing that keeps her from him now, you know?" Fenris lifted an eyebrow in question. "She spends a lot of evenings in a broken, run down mansion when she has a perfectly nice one of her own to spend time in."
Fenris shook his head. "Hawke and I are merely friends," he explained, agitated by Varric's obvious insinuation that they were anything more. He certainly was not going to tell Varric that the schedule of her visits most likely stemmed from the time she had taught him to read and write years earlier. They'd evidently grown accustomed to spending the time together, he'd never really thought about how others might have perceived it.
"That in itself speaks volumes, Elf. Well, to a jealous mage, at least," Varric paused, looking back at Hawke who was staring intently in their direction. "Though right now I'd say Blondie was the least of your concerns. Your merely friend looks pissed."
Fenris looked up from Varric straight into Hawke's intense glare. Evidently she'd known exactly where he was, even though he'd been unaware of her till a few minutes ago. He refused to wilt under her gaze, he wasn't sorry for what he'd done, but she refused to look away while continuing to listen to whatever Anders was saying, so they simply stared at each other for a long moment.
"Did you have to threaten to rip out his heart, Elf?" Varric asked, looking between them, glad to not be under such vicious scrutiny himself.
"It's what I do," Fenris answered calmly, still staring back at Hawke.
"I know..." Varric conceded, "but still."
Finally she looked away, evidently frustrated, and Fenris released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Varric chuckled nervously. "Yep, definitely pissed! Nothing quite like an angry Hawke."
Fenris shrugged, feigning indifference, but he felt the sting of Hawke's displeasure more keenly than he cared admit. He always had. It made him feel guilty, and that pissed him off.
"I need some air," he declared to Varric, and he allowed his hair to curtain his face as he turned, blocking Hawke from view.