CHAPTER TWO
( The Real Host )
"And we what, just eat them? But they're so adorable! Oh Hawke, which one will I choose?" Merrill exclaimed, one hand holding the plate of mini-cakes, the other hovering over a pastel-blue one.
So far the trip to Marquis Vist's secluded and supposedly secondary mansion in the Free Marches was incredibly uneventful. The four had arrived at the mansion, been introduced formally, and now 'mingled' among the elite guests. After chatting up several of the nobles present Hawke and group had come to the conclusion that nobody knew this marquis individual, at least out of those in attendance.
As Varric explained it wasn't uncommon in Orlesian cultures for new-money nobles to host a grand 'coming out rich' party. This language had elicited a couple of giddy giggles from both women and a head shake from Fenris who was beginning to think this was a grand waste of their time. The Vist he'd known wasn't into these power displays so now it was just a joke gone awry.
But there was no turning back now so the group had resolved themselves to just simply endure it.
The marquis had yet to make an appearance, leaving his mysterious rise to power under the scrutiny of a dozen wagging tongues. Only an hour in he had been deemed the bastard son of the Empress Celine, a chevalier come into money, and a Ferelden noble sent to spy on the Orlesian social circles. Hawke was still deciding which of these she liked better.
Merrill had opted to wear traditional servant garb consisting of a neutral-tone fabric that was both functional and fashionable. While Hawke regretted having to play two of her companions off as servants due to being elves, she had spared no expense on the silken fabric of Merrill's overcoat to the point where it almost shimmered more than the flashy noble dresses.
Hawke had settled for a shorter dress with simplistic silver embroidering and was severely regretting it. Dresses had never really been her thing. Still it was amusing to see both Fenris and Varric in fineries. None of them really fit in here but that was the beauty of it. She plucked one of the mini-cakes from the plate Merrill was holding and swallowed it hole in a very unladylike manner.
"There, now you don't have a choice. Please eat the other one before I do and regret it," Hawke pleaded, "I'm already stuffed from those odd olive cheese things."
Across the courtyard Varric shot Hawke waggle brows then pointed his eyes in the direction of a more inebriated guest that was making a fool of themselves. Hawke smiled wickedly then watched as Merrill picked at the mini cake.
"Oh these are heavenly! I wonder if I could make something similar for our weekly dinners," she mused out loud. Hawke took a sip from her wine glass as the produced a forced smile as two nobles looked her way.
"Only if you want to take a loan out from Varric, I'm betting those were two gold a piece," she rested her lips on the wine glass just in time to avoid being dragged into a nearby conversation but didn't bother to sip it. Hawke had already subjected herself to a glass already.
Merrill's eyes widened and she looked down at the plate in near horror.
"My goodness that's expensive. Should I not have eaten it? " one of the nearby servants took the now-empty plate from Merrill.
"Nah. That's just Orlesian customs for you. Plenty of flair, drama, and expensive oddities. I am not looking forward to the main course considering the direction it's been headed in," Hawke confessed.
Why had she promised her mother she'd attend these sorts of things? Or pushed Fenris into attending? Bright eyes combed the crowd for her broody elf and found him amidst a crowd of fawning noble women. Varric was leading the conversation of course. Hawke nodded that Merrill should follow her and the duo made their way through the modest crowd.
"And I shit you not, there Hawke was surrounded by Qunari with nothing but a broken sword and this guy here," Varric chimed and several of the ladies leaned in anticipatorily, "one of them throws a spear, knocking the sword clean out of her hand but instead of falling she grabs the spear and-"
"Varric," Hawke interrupted, the slight twitch of her eyebrow betraying her true thoughts to only those closest to her.
The dwarf shot her an amused expression. Hawke already had enough of his tall tales chasing her around like shadows and this was no different. But she hadn't come here to interrupt the scene or deflate another of Varric's tall tales. One of the women had gotten a little too close at Fenris and was staring far too intently at his lyrium-etched neck despite all the measures they'd taken to hide it.
"I need to borrow your elf if you don't mind, you can have mine," she said politely.
Fenris all but bolted to her side after offering the ladies a polite bow. Merrill wandered over, mostly watching the glimmer of the other women's dresses. This entire setting was new to her, even more so than it was new to Hawke and company. Fenris looked like a bowstring ready to snap, a tension in his arm that was easily noticed. Hawke resisted the urge to touch him, weary of the eyes that followed them as they dipped out of the courtyard and finally out of sight behind some elaborate shrubbery.
The mansion sat at the edge of a very impressive set of cliffs overlooking the forests below and their particular spot offered a small perspective of that. With the sun still hanging low in the sky there was a picturesque amount of fading sunlight stretched across the emerald treetops below.
"I'll never understand why mother enjoyed these things, do you want the rest?" Hawke indicated her wine and Fenris shook his head, he'd already had one as well.
She huffed, giving her wine a sniff and then spilling the contents of the glass into a nearby shrub. As Hawke placed the glass down on a ledge Fenris spoke.
"The more I think about it the more I realize that there is no way Vist could be a marquis. He wasn't a slave but he certainly wasn't a magister either. It takes decades to rise up in Orlesian social circles, or Tevinter for that matter," Fenris crossed his arms, "we're wasting our time."
While Hawke couldn't disagree entirely she didn't commit to his particular opinion.
"Nonsense, have you seen the way Merrill looks at the Hors d'oeuvres? Priceless. I've had to persuade her to eat several of them now because she thinks they're too pretty to eat," Hawke let the joy spread over her face. It was amusing, "I think most of those women were more interested in you than Varric's story by the way."
This was light enough to draw a groan followed by a fleeting smile from Fenris. When the business with Danarius had finished they'd reconnected and now whatever they had felt almost stronger. A lot of times things passed unsaid between them but completely understood.
"Good thing I'm already taken or I'd have to sleep with one eye open tonight," he joked, uncrossing his arms.
Hawke shook her head, pulling herself close to Fenris with both hands on his waist.
"Who says you don't?" she joked with a sly expression.
"Me, because I've got the attention of the most beautiful woman I've known," Fenris ran his fingertips down the side of her face, "I doubt she would murder me on a whim."
The mage scoffed pretending to look offended.
"You don't know me at all," she joked then snuck a kiss. Fenris threaded his fingers through her hair to pull her closer, opening his mouth to hers and for a moment the couple became lost in one another. Hawke slid her fingers down his lithe form, glad for the distraction from the gilded airs happening on the other side of the shrubbery.
Unfortunately this was not meant to last.
"Ahem, Lady Hawke, apologies for interrupting but there is someone at the front gate who claims they are your guest," a well-dressed butler called from behind them.
Both Hawke and Fenris jumped away from each other as though struck by lightning, Hawke's face colored. She wiped her mouth while trying to maintain her poise. Only an hour in and she'd probably created a delicious Isabela-worthy scandal. The Champion of Kirkwall and her affair with her associate's manservant elf. Fenris was already looking away, running a thumb over his mouth to collect the moisture. There was a glint of something on his face, amusement maybe, but he didn't let on.
"Oh, well thank you," Hawke offered a polite nod but the butler, oddly enough a human one, stood unmoving for a good minute.
"Well, would you like me to let them in or...?" he finally inquired somehow able to keep his face a complete mask without emotions.
Hawke colored again.
"I'll, uh, I can go greet them. Thank you," she bowed politely and was eager to be anywhere but the scene of her embarrassment. Not that there was anything to be embarrassed about in a good kiss with Fenris of course.
Varric's crowd had dispersed now as another round of appetizers flooded the courtyard and it appeared that Merrill was chatting with a few of the servants.
The champion of Kirkwall recovered the usual pallor to her face at this point and, butler leading, made her way to the front gate where all guests were greeted. Hawke had no idea who was claiming to know them but she understood why the servants would want clarification on such matters: it wasn't unheard of to have people lying to get into grand events hosted by nobility. However, in the middle of seemingly nowhere it just became downright suspicious.
As they approached the gate it became increasingly clear to Hawke just exactly what was going on. A woman stood barred from the estate by two silent guardsmen. A rich velveteen dress gave way to bustling cleavage and bronze skin. When Hawke met her dark gaze she smirked.
"Hawke! Tell these brutes to let me in, they insist I am no associate of yours," the woman waved her hand fan angrily.
Stifling a laugh, Hawke rubbed her forehead. Her alone time with Fenris had been, of course, interrupted by Kirkwall's most notorious pirate.
"Ah Lady Bellos, my apologies," Hawke turned to the guards, "she is indeed with me."
Crisis solved, the guardsmen ambled back to their posts as the butler bowed in departure. Isabela's grin was so wide she thought the woman might split in two. The pirate snapped her hand fan shut and wrapped her arm around Hawkes, the trail of her dress actually quite impressive. To anyone else she would look like just another well-endowed noble.
"Lead the way, dearest," Isabela said, smiling faintly and when they were away from earshot Hawke finally addressed her unexpected appearance.
"You just couldn't stay away, huh? Well, I'll add it to the scandals of the evening," Hawke sighed in a tired tone, leading Isabela to the main area.
The pirate smirked.
"Admit it, you were bored without me. This place wasn't exactly easy to find by the way," Isabela rolled her eyes, "who builds a mansion in the middle of nowhere like this? Reminds me of that rich bloke we mur-" she began but received a chastising look from Hawke and quickly shut it.
"Try not to get us into trouble," Hawke slid out of her companion's grips.
"Don't worry, I'll try not to embarrass you too much Hawke," Isabela laughed lightly, "I'll just babysit Merrill... and maybe that dashing man in those deliciously tight pants over there."
Before she could comment Isabela disappeared into the crowd in a blur of red velvet and black lace. It was Varric who took her place, taking small bites out of a strange cheese Hawke had yet to sample.
"So Hawke, I heard the weirdest rumor just now about the Champion in a lusty embrace with my man servant. Care to tell me about it?" Varric did a double take and, seeing that nobody was looking, threw the unsatisfactory cheese into a nearby shrub.
The mage frowned, waving away the servant bearing the questionable cheese plate.
"Odd. Have you seen our companion Lady Bellos? Now you wouldn't have anything to do with that would you?" Hawke raised an eyebrow.
Varric put both his hands up.
"Not a one, you think I want Rivaini here poking at the nobles and deflating my stories?" his voice held a mock sarcasm tone that Hawke couldn't help but grin at.
Of course Varric was involved.
"I think that's exactly what you wanted," she sighed with a content expression, "let the scandals unfold then. By the end of the night we'll be the talk of the banquet. What joy! With any luck we'll never be invited to a party again."
Fenris stepped beside her, about to say something but the light conversation had drawn to a complete stop. At the front of the well-dressed courtyard a servant was beckoning the guests over with a polite gesture. All attentions fell on the elven woman as she bowed then respectfully began her display.
"Esteemed guests may I introduce your most gracious host," the elf bowed away and the courtyard erupted into a polite round of clapping as the Marquis of the hour stepped out to greet his guests.
What greeted them was most unexpected. Vist was, apparently, a woman. She looked like a vision of a dream with pale blonde hair that was pulled back into a graceful bun. It was a style similar to Empress Celine. Accompanying her fine figure were icy blue eyes and a pale complexion that would make any woman jealous. She wore a deep purple dress showing an tasteful display of neck and cleavage.
For a second the whole room flipped into some sort of hushed shock but Hawke broke the silence with a clap and her companions quickly joined her until the Marquess's praises were once again being sung. Varric leaned in to whisper something to her.
"Less people would've attended if she'd written Marquess, a fortunate misprint I'm sure," he managed as the clapping finally died down.
Fenris looked relieved, probably at the prospect that this woman wasn't his friend.
"My honored guests!" the marquess was holding a wine glass close, "I apologize for the misinformed invitations but never the less am humbled by your attendance. The party is to go well in to the night and all are welcome to retire to their chambers when desired. I have had rooms prepared for all of you this evening."
Hawke shot a look at Fenris who shared the same skepticism. They probably wouldn't be staying much later so the idea of rooms was irrelevant.
"I implore that you see all of what Chateau Des Mons has to offer, especially the gardens and try our fine wine, imported from the Imperium itself. Let the entertainment began," with a practiced smile she clapped twice and a nearby servant began to sing beautifully by strumming her lute.
The party had, apparently, begun.