"Out of curiosity, why didn't you just tell me?" Fenris asked once they were ensconced on the ragged tiles of his roof, pooping the cork and taking a swig of the Aqua Magus. "This stuff isn't half bad," he commented, and passed the bottle over.
She took it with a rueful smile, and gulped a large mouthful. "You're right. Has a nice kick to it, too. Pity it's so hard to get," she remarked evasively, handing the glowing blue alcohol back. "Fen, I… I'm a mage. My father was a mage. My grandmother was a mage. I think Gran's mother was a mage, though she didn't like to talk about her family. My little sister, the one Merrill reminds me of sometimes, was a mage, even if all she wanted was to be normal. The chances are very slim any offspring I produced would be anything but a mage, even without anything in your bloodline. And I wasn't sure how you would…"
"How I would react to having sired a mage?" Fenris sighed, and took a large swallow of lyrium wine before handing it back to the mage.
"It's not… I didn't… I was afraid. Afraid you react like mother did when I first demonstrated… well, talent, let's call it. I was three, rising four, and I set my bed on fire in a nightmare. I was terrified. I didn't know how I did it or how not to do it again, and Mother wasn't hiding the fact that she was scared of me very well. She wouldn't go near me. She would look through me, and then start praying. Which scared me enough my nightmares go worse, and the next time I nearly set the whole house on fire." Lupa stared at the gathering clouds, the bottle in her hand forgotten until Fenris gently took it back. "I think the only time Father ever raised his hand to Mother is when she called me a monster and slapped me when I tried to hug her. She just told him to get it away from her. She went back into the house crying, and he told me I was going to visit Gran for a while."
Fenris slid closer to her on the slate tiles, and she leaned back into him. "I loved Gran's house. It was always filled with books with strange letterings and all sorts of odd things from grandfather Hawke's days as a ship captain. And Gran always had something sweet waiting for me to snack on. When father and I showed up, she bustled out of the cottage and scooped me up into a hug, then set me on a counter in the kitchen to eat cookies while she and father talked. 'Pauper Paulo Fenlen' she kept saying, 'poor little wolf cub'"
"I know what that means. I didn't know your 'Gran' spoke Arcanum, or that you did." Fenris remarked, trying to keep from snapping, and gulped more of the blue liquid.
"Gran is one of the reasons I kill slavers on sight. She was a runaway. Well, technically, Grandfather Hawke stole her, and freed her later, but my point remains. I still don't know what any number of things you keep muttering mean, but I suspect Gran would have washed my mouth with soap if I had said them. I know it well enough to read in, since most reputable books of magic are still written in it. I understood it well enough to understand Gran, since she never really stopped lapsing back into it."
"Your gran was a…" Fenris started to ask, but noticed Lupa staring at the sky again.
"You said it yourself once. The magisters do not hesitate to collar their own. Gran never liked speaking about Tevinter. The most I ever heard from her on the subject was when father tried to suggest he send me to their circle for training. 'They will break her or collar her, and either way our sweet wolfcub would be gone' she said, and told Father she would train me until Mother came around. That took a couple years, but Mother hugged me when I came back, and I had enough control not to do anything to scare her. I still spent summers with Gran, until I was twelve." Lupa took another swig from the bottle, and smiled. "And then she had Bethany and Carver, and we all thought Beth was normal until she was nearly seven. Mother didn't freak out again, probably because Beth defaulted to nice, easily controlled ice instead of lightning or fire, but all Beth ever really wanted was to go back to being magicless."
"Did you ever…" Fenris started to ask as the bottle was passed back.
"Did I ever want to not have magic? I don't really remember not having it, not clearly. Setting my bed on fire with a lightning bolt is one of the first clear memories I have. Father claims I had been showing signs for weeks before that, just none clearly detectable by a nonmage. It's kind of like how I don't remember not worrying about Templars. You once asked me what to do when you stopped running." Lupa lay back; her head nearly in his lap, and watched the cloud swirl with pupils starting to go wide from the lyrium in the drink.
"If I remember, you said to stop, look around, and build again. Is there a caveat to that?" he asked, and moved the few inches necessary to slide her head into his lap before running a hand over her hair.
"Not if you count getting ready to start running again as part of building. We never stayed anywhere long. Lothering only lasted because Mother threw a fit, then Father got too sick to move us on. And I was old enough to get rid of Templars who got too snoopy around that odd family out at the farm in the middle of nowhere, since Father had taught me ways to keep the other Templars from figuring out where the snoopy ones had gone missing. You run as far as you can, then you hide while you rebuild your strength, so that when they find you, you can fight long enough to give yourself time to run. Kirkwall's the first time I haven't been running, or planning to run." She pressed slightly into his hand like a cat, relaxing. "Of course, Kirkwall's also the first place I've ever had friends outside the family."
"And here you are, Champion of the city, most important person except for the Knight Commander." He laughed, taking a last swig of the potent wine before setting it carefully down.
She made a sour look. "Don't remind me. Meredith likes having me under her thumb entirely too much to make the notion sit well. She expects me to go to all the gatherings and parties and social idiocies she can find to parade me around, and if I miss too many, she starts talking about how living in the gallows might make it more convenient for me to remember my schedule. She makes no secret of the fact that she'd love to have me caged, or better yet, working a store booth in the gallows courtyard with a tranquil brand on my forehead. And If I put one toe too far out of line, she could make it happen. Luckily, as long as Grand Cleric Elthina sees me as a voice of reason, and I keep to what she sees as my place; as long as I don't seem to be seeking power, she won't let Meredith go farther than threats, not without reason." She sighed, and debated reaching for the bottle.
"She threatened to make you tranquil?" Fenris asked, his good humor gone as his hand froze in her hair. He had seen the empty eyed, flat voiced creatures selling their wares. The notion of his Lupa without emotion, without a spell and a bad joke ready at hand, without any of the quirks and sparks that made her, well her, was a deeply disturbing one. She was the Champion of Kirkwall, the savior of the city. Surely that would be sufficient to keep her safe from such things. He uncorked the bottle again, taking a careful swig before offering it to her.
"Point blank, the day after they officially announced it, just to make sure I knew that being champion did not erase the fact that I was a dangerous and illegal apostate. And If I stepped out of line, having saved the city would not prevent her from making a firm example out of me for the benefit of other apostate and any other mage that dared to consider themselves anything but a monster in waiting. The last bit is nearly a direct quote, by the way." She took a cautious sip, thought, then tipped the bottle up for a larger swallow. "If I were smart, I'd be out of the city by now. Pack a small bag with money and essentials, grab my favorite staff and a bone for Wolf, and just leave. Head for Antiva, Nevarra, or maybe back to Ferelden since the Blight's over now. Dye my hair, cut it short, thank the Maker Meredith didn't think to make me a phylactery, disappear and never speak the word politics again."
"Why haven't you?" He asked, one hand still tangled in her hair as the other reached for the bottle.
"Because I have you," came the whispered answer. He looked sharply down at her, and she blushed, lyrium blown pupils staring anywhere but him. "I… I couldn't leave you to fend for yourself if the slavers came again. If something happened to you because I wasn't there to help, I would never forgive myself." She sat up, and stared at the lightning flickering in the clouds above. "Or If Merrill did something stupid, got herself or others hurt because I wasn't there to watch her. She's like my little sister; she needs someone looking out for her. If Castillion came after Isabela for giving up the relic, and I'm not there to watch her back, or even if she just gets hurt in one of those stupid tavern brawls." She swiped the wine back from Fenris, and gulped. "Anders is likely to work himself to death at that clinic without someone to remind him humans need to eat and sleep on a regular basis, without someone to back him up so he doesn't burn himself out healing. Let's not even go into helping him keep Justice under control, because his plans and incidents are under my list of 'things most likely to get me killed or made Tranquil' right now. Sebastian needs my being invited to the big noble parties so he can play at being a 'suitable escort' long enough to talk to the people he needs to, gathering allies to retake Starkhaven. Aveline and Varric would be okay, but they would worry about me. Aveline would hide it under complaints I had skipped out on my duty to Kirkwall, Varric would mutter about my ruining the ending of his story, but they would worry." Lupa had started waving her hands, warming to the topic. "And who would look after Orana? She's still just shoving everything I pay her into a pile like she expects me to swipe it all back at a moment's notice, like she's just humoring me by taking it in the first place. And she still calls me mistress, and cowers at the least flicker of magic. Not that I blame her, but it would be nice to heal her when she cuts herself in the kitchen or relight the fire for her without worrying about her going into a panic attack." She waved her hands dramatically, taking another large swallow from the bottle, and nearly overbalanced, sliding a few inches down the roof before catching herself.
Fenris pulled her back up, firmly removing the alcohol from her grasp, and she started giggling. "I think I'm drunk. And a little lyrium addled. This is fun! Oh, look, the stars are swirling. And the clouds are fizzing. Are clouds supposed to fizz?"
Fenris looked up. The stars did seem to be moving more than usual where the clouds weren't. Of course, everything seemed to be moving. "Maybe it's time to head down. The roof is spinning, too"
They stood, and Lupa promptly stumbled into Fenris, who pulled her close. To keep her from falling, he told himself, not to remind himself how good her hair smelled. They were nearly at the bottom of the makeshift ladder when he overbalanced, tumbling to the dusty floor with Lupa on top of him. The half empty bottle of Aqua magus rolled across his floor and under his bed, miraculously unbroken. "hi." She giggled as he tried to regain the wind that had been knocked out of him, staring unfocusedly into his eyes. "You have shadows. On your teeth. I can see them." She told conspiratorially. "I think I'm drunk."
"Hello," Fenris responded. "I'm glad I got us off the roof when I did. Yes, Hawke, you are definitely drunk. And judging by the fact I can still feel the room spinning, so am I." He made an attempt to rise, but was defeated by the fact that the red haired mage was still sprawled on top of him, giggling like a lunatic. "Perhaps if you moved, we could sit somewhere other than the floor?"
Lupa peered at him again, obviously trying to focus, and blinked. "You're really pretty. But guy pretty." She giggled. "Both of you. Are there usually two of you?" Fenris sighed, and she leaned closer, suddenly pressing her lips against his. "You still taste better than the wine," she giggled, and kissed him again. Somehow he managed to shift her weight enough to slide out from under her, and then pick her up. He meant to put her into bed and go sleep by the fire, since she was obviously in no condition to get herself home. But her fingers fisted into the soft shirt he had worn instead of his armor, and he found himself nestled around her under the blankets, her head pillowed on his shoulder. His hand started running over her hair again, and she snuggled close. "Love you, Fen," she whispered as she drifted off to sleep.
"Festis bei umo canavarum," he murmured, but his tone was affectionate. "I love you, Lupa." He added quietly as soon as he was sure she was asleep.