Donnic contemplated his cards. A mediocre hand, but possibly rescuable, not that his opponent was going to give him any help with that. Every once in a while, Donnic questioned his own wisdom in agreeing to play Diamondback with a man whose very life had depended on not having any facial expressions.
"Should I impose a time limit on turns, Donnic? Either your coffee is getting cold, or my ale is getting warm."
Fenris managed to deliver even this snark without any change of expression. Donnic still couldn't tell if that meant he had a winning hand or a terrible one.
Well, Fenris wasn't the only one who could psych out an opponent.
As he played an undistinguished card, Donnic casually said "... my wife told me something interesting about you the other day."
No reaction. Why would there be? Donnic and Aveline often discussed Fenris - they were his closest friends in Kirkwall, and had a long vested interest in his wellbeing.
Blandly, Fenris played his card. Damn him and his stone face! Donnic brought out his heavy artillery.
"She, uh... mentioned you two had a history."
This was not the bombshell Donnic had hoped for. He waited, hoping for any reaction. This merely degenerated into a staring competition until Fenris pointed out that it was Donnic's turn. Shit.
This was the decisive turn. Whatever Donnic put on the table now determined whether the elf kept the guard's beer allowance. Since he was likely doomed anyway, Donnic decided to tip his hand. So to speak.
"She said you'd done something with her... but she wouldn't tell me what it was."
That got a reaction, but not a useful one. "It seems odd that she would mention such a thing so long into your marriage," Fenris said sharply. "There should be no secrets between spouses, or so your vows say."
Donnic played his card. It was extremely ordinary, and he could only hope Fenris had a poor one.
"Spouses don't have to tell each other everything. I didn't tell Aveline about these card games until your bloody dwarf dropped me in it."
Fenris smirked, either at the mention of Varric or because he had a superfluously high-ranking card and promptly won the entire pot. Since the elf was in such a good mood, Donnic pressed his disadvantage.
"Whatever it was, she seemed to like it a lot."
Fenris swept the pile of coins to his side of the table.
"Are you looking for lessons, guardsman? I've already told Aveline I have no interest in training her men." Although his face remained impassive, Fenris was secretly delighted with this little in-joke.
Donnic let the matter rest. He'd confirmed a piece of information - that would be enough for now.
Later, in bed, Aveline asked - in an uncharacteristically hesitant tone - if Donnic had spoken with Fenris.
"Shhh, love. Patience is a virtue."
"You mean you didn't-"
"I did. And patience is still a virtue. Unless you've been fooling me all these years and Fenris was never really a slave?"
Members of the "Hawke circle" had an unfortunate habit of underestimating Fenris. Not his fighting ability, certainly, and not even his intelligence, although he still kept his reading material simple, if quite varied. (It amused him that Chantry prayerbooks and Isabela's filth were about the same level of difficulty.) But for reasons he was unable to fathom, every single one of them assumed that he was somehow a delicate, fragile creature who was unable to handle consensual sexual activities.
Yes, he had been a body slave. And yes, Maker damn Danarius for letting that little tid-bit slip in their confrontation in the Hanged Man. And, yes, there were things that made him react... poorly. But in general, he was delighted to be able to dance and drink and screw like any free citizen. And in Isabela, he had found someone with whom he could fulfil his reflexive need to please without needing to fear that she would step into the role of master.
Even Isabela had been surprisingly cautious - "If this is bothering you, sweet thing, you must say immediately. My favourite safeword is 'cherries'—YOWK!" That last exclamation being her reaction to being shoved face down on her cot in the Hanged Man and devoured, fingered and buggered to within an inch of her life. She did not mention cherries at all that night.
Still, Fenris had to give credit to Isabela for even being willing to accommodate his history. And she was the one he turned to for advice on sexual matters. This had the dual function, not only of getting plain information, but of floating the idea of fucking other people. When it was the other way around, it was simple - Isabela would simply say "that redhead at the bar... can I have a ticket of leave?" (Leave from what was never discussed - that would disturb the sensitive balance of their not-a-relationship.) Usually Fenris would agree, but every once in a while he would refuse, just to see what would happen. So far, Isabela had accepted his refusals, albeit with a pout and a complaint that he was just no fun.
So when his close, happily married, apparently conservative friends started dropping unsubtle hints, he felt the need for feedback.
"What happened after your... dalliance with the Hero of Ferelden?"
Isabela looked at him sharply. "We fell in a panting heap of bodies and had a lovely nap. Is this going somewhere?"
"I meant after you parted ways."
The pirate scrunched her face up, trying to remember. "They hunted down the Archdemon, cut off its head and saved Ferelden. Then she ran off with Zevran. I don't think they're still together, though. You'd like Zevran, I think. You can discuss preferred methods of avoiding your hunters while he tries to get you out of your armour."
"Have you met her since?"
"No time, what with the whole Hero of Ferelden thing. Why? Do you want to invite her to join us?"
Fenris merely smiled and pulled her towards him. "What would I need with another woman? You are enough for ten women."
As much as outsiders overestimated how sheltered Fenris was, they underestimated how perceptive Isabela was. Which was fine by her – the more people viewed her as a promiscuous, drunken buffoon who made terrible Dad jokes, the less they expected her poison-tipped blades sneaking under their doublet.
Not only did Isabela know why Fenris was inquiring, it was fairly obvious who might have inspired such a query, and equally obvious that she was not invited. If Fenris had asked, she would have told him to invite the Hendyrs over, break out the top shelf spirits, and challenge them to a high-stakes round of strip Diamondback. Since he would inevitably beat them soundly, he would then have two drunk, naked people to do whatever he liked with. Since he did not ask, she assumed he planned to refuse any requests made of him… but she hoped he would work something out. And then tell her all the details.