Bioware owns Dragon Age series. David Gaider wrote most of its characters. I mutilate his work.
Old habits die hard. Filching things from merchants had become second nature to Marian, and she'd been finding it difficult to break. Even as she strolled down Hightown's marketplace with Fenris, her pockets were filled with small items she'd squirreled away from the last five stalls. And now, she was working on the sixth: a fruit merchant, easiest target there ever was.
"So…" she said. "I do realize that you don't discuss your feelings due to your tough, manly pride…but you were about to say something that night when Sebastian came over to my house." She carefully eyed the elf's back for any sort of reaction. "Care to tell me what was that all about?"
"You expect me to tell you now?"
"Well…yes. I mean, I'd wheedle and use whatever means necessary to get a confession out of you…but you will tell me eventually, so you might as well do that now."
"Whatever means necessary?" he chuckled darkly. "That's a risky claim. How far are you willing to go to get something from me? Do you like pomegranates, by the way?"
He couldn't help but wonder if he was handed a blessing in disguise. They'd decided to give Lowtown a wide berth for now to avoid another mobbing incident. That meant lesser Hanged Man drinking sessions and more quality time with Marian. He'd decided that this was possibly the only chance he could have to pick things up where he left off between them. No guerilla warlord had a plan so perfectly laid out than the one in his head at the moment. He was determined to have her naked and moaning in his arms by the time the night ends.
"Yes, I do. With regards to your first question: all the way, I suppose." A selection of cherry apples was spread out before her, tantalizingly within reach.
"But we've already gone all the way, Hawke. Or have you forgotten?"
Marian frowned, unsure of where this conversation was headed. "I…might need a gentle reminder. What are you talking about?"
She was too preoccupied waiting for the fruit seller for turn his back on her that she was caught completely by surprise when Fenris sidled up close, slid a hand around her hips and whispered hotly in her ear: "I'm talking about you, having a late supper at my place tonight and making up for missing my anniversary. I'm warning you, Marian…it'd take a lot to pacify me completely." He emphasized his point by ghosting his lips down the side of her neck.
To her credit, Marian did a stellar performance at maintaining a neutral expression. "Hm, yes. Do I have to cook? Because I don't cook. I'm worse than Orana. I'm...ah, a hopeless cook chef…yes. Ahem."
Fenris smugly stepped away, keeping his eyes on her as he motioned towards the merchant. He pointed at the pomegranates. Maker damn it all. She'll never be able to think of that fruit in quite the same way ever again.
"Half a dozen, please," he said. "Nobody said anything about you cooking. All you have to do is just…come."
"Ohoho, well done Fenris. You're the master of puns and double entrendes. I almost missed that one, you know," she said weakly. "Are you…actually seducing me?" A handful of cherry apples managed to land inside her pocket when the merchant bent over to rummage through his money pouch for Fenris's change.
"Why? Is it working?"
She was about to answer, she really did. She was going to open her mouth and give out an equally cheeky reply…but it never happened, because somebody chose that moment to grab her.
Sebastian asked for forgiveness on a daily basis. He'd made a point to kneel down every night and recount every single sin he'd done and atone for them. He'd also pray for the souls who'd done him wrong and begged the Maker for the wisdom to understand and accept them.
But no amount of prayers was going to save Fenris the minute he pulled that dirty seduction technique of his. Whatever he did clearly worked on Marian, and for the first time in a long time, the usually collected Sebastian saw red. There he was, searching for Fenris with the full intent of mending ties between them, and he…made a move on Marian! HIS Marian!
His feet began to move before his tongue could utter a single holy entreaty. He wasn't about to sit around and play Ser Nice Choir Boy when his beloved Marian was being led astray by that…that elf. Oh, how he wished he could say a dirty word right now.
It was hard to ignore a strapping lad bulldozing forth with a look of murderous intent in his eyes. The crowd parted before him far more effectively than any Abomination could ever achieve as he marched towards her, gathered her in his arms, bent her backwards and commenced snogging her senseless.
It was a textbook fairytale kiss which broke the hearts of many Fenris fangirls in one fell swoop. All activities around the market ground to a halt as everyone witnessed this passionate play of tonsil hockey. It wasn't just a kiss. It was foreplay in broad daylight, sex minus the sticky bits and a snapshot so powerful that middle-aged women sighed and said wistfully to their children: 'Your da used to kiss me like that during our courtship days.'
When he finally released her, she was looking visibly befuddled. She patted the cherry apples before her as if reasserting her place in reality and found herself meeting Fenris's basilisk gaze. She had no idea where that came from, but if it was a preview of things to come, then she was not only hooked, but lined and sinkered. Sebastian had clearly studied more than Chantry tenets and prayer beads wasn't the only thing he'd fondled before. She wondered if all holy men were like that. Realizing that people were still staring, she straightened herself up, damped down her rampaging arousal and tried to regain her dignity by doing what any sane woman would do.
She bought herself a parrot.
It was from a stall right across the fruit merchant's. The foul-tempered albino thing glared at her through its cage bars and screeched: 'Blistering barnacles! Stick it up the money hole!'
"Why'd you need a parrot for?" Sebastian asked.
"Don't know," she said. "Seems like a good idea at the moment. I think he used to belong to a pirate. Look at him. Kind of reminds you of Fenris, doesn't he?"
"In disposition, or mental capacity?"
"So nice of you to drop by and insult me, Sebastian," said Fenris, sauntering over. "Don't tell me you're only here for that."
"I came looking for you, actually. But seeing Marian here has made me forget my initial purpose. That's quite a shopping bundle you have over there. Expecting some company tonight?"
"You can say that," the elf said, smirking.
"Excellent. Perhaps that will be a good enough excuse to tidy up that hovel of yours."
"Don't worry. You're not invited, so I won't be rolling out a princely welcome."
Ye Maker! Marian thought as she looked at both men glaring at each other. It's a good thing Fenris couldn't shoot lyrium beams from his eyes; otherwise both her and Sebastian would've been cleaved into half by then. The archer himself had proven that he was an adept sniper even without a bow and arrow. If Fenris keeps on goading him, there'll probably be a violent Antivan-style standoff. Young girls might find it unbearably romantic, but Marian personally thought it'd be one bloody nuisance.
"At ease, gentlemen," she said, stepping daintily between them. "Sebastian, it's a nice surprise seeing you here."
"Are you doing anything this evening, love?" the man asked.
"Waaark! Stick it up the money hole, you blistering barnacles!"
"Actually, yes. I've a lovely ill-mannered fellow to entertain. Do you think I should let it go? I don't think he'd get along well with Dog," said Marian.
"Finger yourself, slattern!"
"Maybe I should," she went on. "His…language leaves a lot to be desired. Not that I'd mind…but you know how Mother is about these things." With that, she opened the cage and coaxed the parrot out. The animal took a moment to snap at her fingers appreciatively before flying off.
"Hmph, so much for gratitude," grunted Fenris.
"He loves me…I can tell. I'm sorry, love. You were saying…?"
"There's something we need to discuss," said Sebastian.
"If it's to negotiate a repeat performance of that kiss we had just now, then I'm all ears," she said, giving him a flirty wink Isabela would be proud of.
"Ah…no. It's actually-"
"Drat."
"- a matter of great importance. What?"
"Fenris," Marian said, turning towards the elf. "I hope you'll have an enjoyable evening. I'm sure your…guest will enjoy your pomegranate dessert."
"Oh, they'll be asking for seconds. And thirds. I just hope I don't run out of juice before they do," he said slyly.
"How considerate of you," she said, arching an eyebrow. "I should say your guest would be in good hands, then. Walk me home, Sebastian. It's been a while since we had a proper conversation. Mother will be so thrilled to see you again, I'm sure."
(AN: Thanks to Google Translate, we can all speak 1,001 languages. However, if you speak French and you see any errors in Emille's love spell, please let me know.)
Emille deLauncet was a confused young man.
He thought he was on his one-way ticket back to the Templars, but when his captors brought him to a house in Hightown and demanded him to perform a love spell, he knew something was amiss.
Looking dazedly at the ugly rag doll thrust into his hands, he made another attempt at comprehending his situation.
"Er, so…let me get this straight: I do a love spell and then you let me go?" he asked.
"Precisely," said the hooded figure before him. The others were hooded as well, but he'd assumed this was the leader, because everyone else seemed to be taking orders from her. Yes, the voice was female, so he was certain she's one. "However, do have the professional courtesy to make sure that it works. Otherwise it's straight to the Templars with you. You can do it, can't you?"
"O-of course I can! Why, you're looking at the best blood mage in all of Kirkwall!" he crowed, trying to sound convincing.
"Doesn't seem like one from where we're standing," muttered one of Hooded Leader's cronies. "Hey, are you sure he's qualified to do this?"
"He's the only one we can afford," snapped the leader. "Go on, then. Do your magic."
"Er, er…does any one of you speak Orlesian?" Emille quavered.
"No. Why? Does it matter?"
"Nothing. I shall perform the spell now."
He held up the doll at arm's length and tried to concentrate. Truth to be told, he wasn't terribly good at magic. The only spell that landed him inside the Circle was the mysterious burning of his cousin's beard, but even then he was positive it was an accident. All he wanted was to be left alone and perhaps get a girl to shag him. This…person, whoever he was, was definitely luckier than him in that aspect. He took a deep breath and intoned:
Je suis fait enculer si je sais que cela,
Laissez cet idiot amoureux de la fille de ses rêves,
Peut-être que je vais faire baiser, puis,
Je suis fait enculer si je sais que ce.
(I'm buggered if I know this,
Let this idiot love the girl of his dreams,
Maybe I'll get laid then,
I'm buggered if I know this.)
He stood back. There, it's done. If it doesn't work and everyone suddenly turned nasty, he still had a fireball spell or two up his sleeve.
Anticipation hung heavily in the air like cheap aftershave. When there wasn't a definite sign of anyone bursting out of the house and proclaiming his deepest love towards the sky, the Hooded Leader growled.
Emille uttered a rather girly 'eeek!' when she suddenly grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall.
"Are you sure that's even a spell?" she demanded. "I'm telling you: if you mess up now, I'll-"
"Maybe it needs blood," quipped one of her followers. "He is a blood mage after all. Someone lend him a dagger."
"Nooo…I'm telling you we need something from Fenris: a lock of hair, toenail clippings, a tooth…that kind of thing," said another.
"Why don't you just knock and ask him nicely for a sample, then?"
"Forget it. Use this bugger's blood and maybe it'll work just as well. What's the worst that could happen anyway?"
There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone contemplated over this.
"Er, he'd turn into an Abomination and kill us all?"
"Please, no!" Emille shrieked. "I'm not a blood mage! I was just kidding! I can't be one…I faint at the sight of my own blood! You have to believe me!"
"You lied to us? Bastard, I should kill you myself!" snarled the leader.
"Yeah, that's the ticket," cheered the blood suggester. "Make sure you don't waste any of his blood."
The young man whimpered at the sound of a dagger unsheathing. "Please," he begged. "I'm harmless! I promise I won't tell anyone about this. Just…just let me go! I don't want to die!"
"Too late, boyo. Should've said you're useless while you still can."
One of them grabbed his left arm. Emille squeezed his eyes shut. They'll cut his wrists and then his throat, he was sure of it. He'll die surrounded by strangers and nobody will care. Goodbye, mama. Goodbye, cruel and unfortunate world.
He waited for the moment where his entire life flashes before his eyes. It's a boring one, sure…but it's the only one he's got. It didn't come, however, when a rather robust voice rang out:
"Aperi fenestram amor…"
Question marks practically popped over everyone's heads as they wondered who said that.
"Luna uti fores, nisi per fenestram."
"Up there!" exclaimed one of the hooded figures, pointing towards something on the roof.
Silhouetted against the moonlight was a wiry, blue-glowing and pointy-eared apparition. It leaped off and dropped on top of them. As everyone shrieked and scattered away like mice, it struck a rather impressive pose with its Blade of Mercy held aloft in one hand while the other gestured towards an unforeseeable distance.
"My heart sings for her," it intoned. "I must go to my love."
With that it scampered off, leaving everyone in stunned silence.
(AN: Aperi fenestram amor; Luna uti fores, nisi per fenestram: Latin for 'Open the love window; The moon won't use the door, only the window'. Bastard Google Translate doesn't have Tevinter language. I've a good mind to write to them and complain.)
Next episode: Hawke plays tonsil hockey with two men. She's not afraid of cooties.
