CHAPTER ONE
( Orlesians, Here We Go Again )

Like all nights in the Hawke estate, the slow hum of the city nightlife outside flowed in through the open window along with a refreshingly crisp breeze.

Hawke shifted against Fenris in bed as she continued to flip through the mail. Since she'd dueled the Arishok and saved the city the stream of solicitation via mail was never ending. Hawke frowned, tossing letters aside as she went through the pile of at least ten. Normally this was something she did at her desk but at the behest of her broody elf boyfriend she'd agreed to pretend to relax in bed. At least the proximity to Fenris and the reassuring press of his body against hers could be considered relaxing even if the mail sorting could not.

"Junk, petition to fund a new clothing line, more junk, some man is selling 'potency' potions, annnnd junk," Hawke huffed, picking up the other half of the pile as her loose ponytail shifted over her shoulder, "another party, junk, junk, oh look yet another party this one is from a different sender. What an unusual name for an Orlesian."

Fenris played with the loose strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

"Duchess richess de coincé?" the white-haired elf quirked his eyebrow playfully, drawing a grin from Hawke.

"Fenris, I had no idea you spoke Orlesian!" she joked.

"Enough to get by yes but don't ask me to write or read it," the elf pulled her closer and Hawke flipped the letter over.

"It's actually Vist, far too short to be Orlesian and yet they've got a title. Marquis apparently," Hawke rolled her eyes and was about to fling the invitation into the reject pile sitting on the stone floor below but Fenris reached for it first.

"That name... it can't be the same person that I'm thinking of," Fenris slid a finger under the envelope end and broke the seal.

As he unfolded the invitation and attempted to read it Hawke marveled at how different he looked out of the spiky armor he usually adorned. He was a whole different person really. Initially she'd thought the lyrium markings were mainly on his hands, neck, and feet but apparently his master had spared no ounce of flesh. Hawke would never admit this to Isabela though, as it was a tempting answer she frequently dangled in front of the pirate.

When Hawke realized that Fenris was having trouble reading the invite she snatched it from him, playing it off so as not to hurt his feelings.

"I thought you were supposed to be relaxing," she teased then flipped the now-wrinkled paper over to read the contents.

"As were you, what does it say?" Fenris pressed.

Hawke shot him a mischievous look, more of her auburn hair spilling out from its ponytail prison as she did so. She was still wearing the housecoat Leandra had insisted she wear but it was about time it came off. Most of the noble traditions her mother had followed as an Amell were lost to Hawke who had never grown up with such nonsense. Even though Leandra was gone the habit had, unfortunately, stuck.

All the mail had been 'sorted' into a sloppy pile on the floor she fully intended to throw into the fire to keep them warm.

"What's it worth?" her eyebrow was quirked and she tried her best at a seductive face but noticed Fenris really wasn't into it. Quiet unusual.

She sighed, a faint smile on her face, and then sat up to read the letter out loud.

"Marquis Vist welcomes his esteemed guests to attend a grand soiree at Chateau Des Mons. Well at least his mansion sounds Orlesian," Hawke smiled, "why the sudden interest? Thinking about taking up a new social hobby or something? If that's the case I think you might stick out."

This comment drew a light laugh from the usually broody elf.

"You would too, for different reasons. I recognize the name, Vist. He was a soparati that helped me flee to Kirkwall after I escaped Danarius. It's unlikely this is the same Vist," Fenris looked away for a moment, thinking as he gazed into the crackling hearth besides them.

Soparati, a non mage in Tevinter. Many aided the never ending war efforts against the Qunari so the story wasn't that unusual. Most joined the army or served as merchants.

Hawke thought for a moment as well. Fenris's past wasn't really a good subject for any conversation but she'd been trying hard enough to get him to talk about what little he remembered. Maybe reconnecting with an old friend, or the idea of reconnecting with an old friend, would be good for him. Not to mention despite Leandra's departure from this world Hawke still heard her words clear as day: Hawke had promised to attend at least two grand parties a year to save face.

"Why not? I think it would be good to get away from the despair and oppression of Kirkwall. We can take our friends and make it a grand old affair. I'm sure the Marquis will love an apostate elf, a dwarf, the openly apostate champion of Kirkwall, and her broody elf manservant!" there was a sly provocation to her words that provoked a snort from Fenris.

"If this party turns out to be anything like Duke Prosper's party I think we'd be better off spending a night at the Hanged Man," the snowy-haired elf gave her his best playful expression, "also elf manservant? Again?"

Smiling, Hawke leaned over and placed the invite on her bedside table then swung her leg over Fenris, turning to face him. There had been enough serious conversation and with the mail sorted all that was left was to go to sleep or do other things.

"You don't exactly blend in you know," she teased, tracing the lyrium lines on Fenris's bare chest.

Fenris ran his hands down her curves, settling them just above her hips.

"Neither do you," he grinned and then pulled her close.


"Last time I went to an Orlesian party with you we ended up helping a Qunari spy, almost became wyvern food TWICE, and murdered a duke so you'll have to forgive my concerns about attending another one," Varric objected from his chair.

Hawke grinned as she leaned against the wall, arms crossed politely in front of her.

"You loved it. Besides this one's only a marquis so I doubt his party will be the grand affair that Duke Prosper held. I mean at the very least there will be fewer wyverns?" she offered, shrugged her shoulders in what was supposed to be a reassuring gesture.

The dwarf shook his head, laughing.

"Hawke, trouble frequents you like Gamlen frequents the Blooming Rose," he sighed, a hint of amusement accompanying the gesture, "but we both know without my battle prowess you'd be dead by now so consider me in."

"I knew you couldn't resist another dashing escapade with your favorite human," Hawke shot him a toothy grin before motioning to a passing worker to grab them a round of drinks. It was amazing how they frequented the hall around Varric's small suite, eager for both tales and additional coin.

As she settled into a seat at the table bronzed fingers came to rest around her shoulder, the owner leaned into her as ebony locks spilled forth from her blue sash.

"Now what's this I'm hearing about a party you're not inviting me to?" Isabela pouted, a sly expression on her face.

Hawke didn't flinch under her friend's touchy gesture, resting her lightly-armored fingers on the table instead of using them to ply the unwanted hand off. She'd left her staff by the door but she didn't really need it to send the smallest of electricity over her shoulder as the mage called Isabela's bluff. The pirate pulled her hand back, shooting Hawke a playful expression.

"You know I love it when you do that," she purred but Hawke just let out a content sigh. Leave it up to Isabela to enjoy something meant to ward her off.

"Why else would I do it?" she joked, Isabela had always been a huge flirt and she'd learned from the start that fighting it only led to more provocations. Several conversations Isabela had shared with Aveline were brought to her mind, each causing a small chuckle at the thought of what had transpired between the two. Nope, it was much better to just embrace flirting when it came to the sensual pirate.

Thankfully it had been quickly established between Hawke and Fenris that this flirting was in the sake of self-preservation of dignity and the prevention of further harassment. Isabela could be absolutely ruthless when she wanted something but she was always respectful of relationship boundaries. It was Varric who spoke up first.

"Hey, hey, this is my office we're talking about here," the dwarve slipped the worker a coin as she placed two mugs in front of Hawke and Varric.

Isabela didn't wait for Hawke to grab her mug but instead wrapped her fingers around the handle and took a good swig.

"So why did I hear about this from Merrill? Any Orlesian noble would just die to have such a delicious looking woman on their arm for the evening," she took another swig, "We could pretend we're together and be the scandal of the party. The champion of Kirkwall and her pirate mistress!"

Varric rubbed his forehead while Hawke just laughed.

"True. I would enjoy causing a stir but that's not the point. You promised to lay low after the Quanri incident. A lot of people are still blaming you for the whole Qunari-stuck-here-for-years thing you know," Hawke chastised, taking her drink back from the pirate's grips and forcing a sip. It was awful but it was the kind of swill she'd gotten used to. Wine, however, was another story completely.

Besides her Isabela visibly deflated. But just as quickly as she had sunk she sprung back to life, gesturing enthusiastically with her hands over the table at them.

"I could go in disguise! Your dashingly masked yet deliciously busty woman-servant. Don't Orlesians like to wear masks to their social events anyways?" she asked, somewhat hopeful but also on the verge of falling into another one of her unrealistic daydreams.

Hawke laughed, pushing the mug back to Isabela who accepted it readily by downing the majority of its contents then shaking her head against the punch of liquor it offered.

"Rivaini, as much as I'd love to see that sort of scandal, I'm going to have to side with Hawke on this one," Varric shook his head with a laugh.

"Also, this isn't an estate that's in central Orlais so I doubt they'd be wearing masks," Hawke pointed out, "just so you know."

Isabela let out a defeated sigh.

"You're always trying to ruin my fun Hawke," she fake-pouted, leaning back into Hawke's non-armored shoulder, "can't I get a consolation prize?"

If the mage was uncomfortable with the proximity she didn't let it show, fingers still resting on the table a she tried her best at a poker face.

"I bet you still want to know how far Fenris's tattoos go..." she started, taking the drink back from Isabela and having a dramatic sip. The pirate woman was now awash with interest and retracted her touch from Hawke, leaning forwards on the table and shooting her a serious expression.

"You would never tell me!" she challenged.

Hawke's expression broke into a smile. Poker face fail. Hawke stood up, grabbing her staff and then paused in the doorway, taking another try at a serious expression. As she replied back her lips cracked into a teasing expression.

"With an attitude like that? No way. I'll catch you two later," she grinned and left the room.

Behind her Isabela shook her head and waved a worker down for another drink.

"She's the biggest dick-tease I've ever known," she muttered with a smile, setting her hands down on the table before her as Hawke walked downstairs.

Even just a year before there would be no way Hawke could walk so confidently out of the Hanged Man and into the streets of Kirkwall with a staff strapped to her back but now nobody questioned her or her companions for that matter. It probably drove the Knight Commander mad to know that certain apostates roamed the streets so openly but she would just have to deal with it. Even the Knight Commander couldn't get away with arresting the Champion of Kirkwall.

Fenris met her outside, arms crossed while propped against the wall.

"I'm guessing Isabela found you guys?" he asked, standing beside her. With the full ensemble of spike-armor, large broadsword, and serious expression Hawke couldn't imagine how other people didn't find him intimidating. Usually Fenris stayed inside until the less-busy times of day given his conspicuous appearance but there was always an exception to this when he was traveling with Hawke.

"Of course. I let her down gently," Hawke laughed lightly at the idea.

The elf offered a small smile, a little more at ease when away from the prying eyes of their companions. Just to the left of them someone was yelling loudly trying to sell their wares but Hawke had learned to tune it out by now. Oddly enough it felt good to have something to look forward to that wasn't playing parent to Kirkwall or chasing murderers or thieves through the city streets.

"We best be off then," Fenris nodded, patting her lightly on the shoulder before the pair headed back to the Hawke estate to prepare for their journey.