I'm afraid this chapter consists out of a whole range of occurrences that can only be described as "and now for something completely different" ...

... And again I can only hope you will like it ...

Part 11: ... and then, after a kiss and a lot of other events there was a big bang ... and still it's not the end of it ...

Even while they were already walking the paths on Sundermount Fenris still couldn't see the alluring benefits of sauntering around the place without a pressing reason let alone he would enjoy it just like that. Not that it would have been better with a pressing reason. He had been tense and all his senses had been screaming out there would be horrible dangers awaiting them around every next corner but when those dangers showed a suspicious lack of popping up he gradually allowed himself to relax. With clenched teeth he acknowledged those dangers merely existed in his head. Speaking about relaxation ... Very soon though he had to admit, grudgingly mind you, that camping with Marian was indeed something entirely different from trying to keep out of the clutches of vile slavers while on the run and definitely something else than trying to get through the nights on tiresome missions. He didn't precisely know whether the difference was made by the simple fact he was here with her alone without the vexing company of irksome mages or irritating pirates and inquisitive dwarves or if it was due to the fact he wasn't at the very brink of being pounced upon by murderous bandits or, worse, determined slavers. But one way or another he was slowly starting to take pleasure in this enterprise. After giving it some thought he came to the conclusion it was indeed due to the fact he was here with just Marian. And it did help considerably they could surrender to certain outdoors – activities they wouldn't dream of performing in the presence of a nosy or snappy audience.

They had managed to find the perfect camping spot. On a relatively flat surface (so they wouldn't roll down a steep hill while sleeping Marian had brightly explained while her eyes had made clear that sleeping as such wasn't exactly what she had in mind), where they could put up the tent they had retrieved from the ancestral attic, a spot close to a silent whispering clear brook. With enough room to build a cooking fire and enough meadow to spread out a blanket to lie upon. Or, in her giggling words, frolicking upon. He had given her a dark scowl but couldn't resist the twinkle in her eyes. 'I'll show you what frolicking means,' he had grumbled. And after that he had grabbed her around the waste, kissed her senseless and had made hot if not igniting love to her which had ended with a splash in the cold water. So much for the advantage of flat surfaces. ('Oh, I simply love frolicking!' she had exclaimed. and all he could do was laugh.)

And enough open space to keep watch. Or at least to spot any attackers approaching soon enough to act adequately.

That last thought had entered his head after all the earlier wonderful activities, even the one including erecting an old almost decaying tent while heatedly discussing how to do it properly. They had bickered while they in a threatening way waved tent poles and pegs around and struggled with the heavy canvas until he had deemed it better to make that heated love to her that had caused them to end in the cold stream. They had eventually succeeded in constructing the damned tent.

The angsty thought struck him in the velvet twilight filled with the arpeggios of competing blackbirds singing loudly their tiny lungs out to claim their territories, at the moment he was supposed to bask in pure bliss. So not so relaxed after all. Sitting near to that romantic campfire she so much treasured. With her glowing body nestled in his arms.

He clenched his jaw. Ugh. Curse Isabela. Curse their friends. They undoubtedly didn't know it but the pirate's antics and their unsavoury betting had brought about a feeling of infinite fear and besides that a strong will to protect. And this time not only to protect his own life but also that of Marian's. He had been reluctant to tell her but one way or another she had guessed it – of course she had and thus he had cursed himself as well. He wanted to grant her this interlude of (he winced) frolicking. He even had been accommodating, going with that stupid expression. He had failed gloriously to resist her and his fierce will to resist this whole happening. He knew he had been surly, or at least looked it, although he hadn't wanted to. She hadn't mentioned it but the way she had looked at him and even more the husky tone of her voice that had told him, 'Just enjoy yourself, my love, you deserve it,' had spoken volumes. But even before he could have uttered some denial or even could have felt guilty she had flashed that brilliant smile that had not even brooked any peremptory but even more important put him at ease. Again. For the umpteenth time. No guilt. He smiled.

Even out in the open she managed to make him feel at ease. It was more than remarkable. He leant back and took her with her in his arms. 'I love you,' he murmured lazily but nevertheless wholeheartedly.

He felt her sweet soft smile upon his naked chest. 'I know. And I love you back.' And he believed her. That was worth all the struggles. All of them.

Varric stood tapping his foot in a way that implied his patience was stretching dangerously thin if not wearing completely out. He had been leaning casually against the wall of the mansion for a while, his arms nonchalantly folded in a steadfast demeanour, watching Isabela's efforts to break the new lock with all the confidence in the world she would succeed in no time at all. But no time at all had rapidly turned into a boring quarter of an hour and was now annoyingly slow nearing an unbearable long time whereas the efforts had become serious exertions. 'I thought you liked a challenge,' he commented prickly, not being able to restrain his aggravation any more.

The pirate looked up at him with a dark scowl. 'And I do,' she retorted tetchily, 'and don't you think I as much as you want to turn this bloody house into a series of traps and other nuisances? To give them a warm welcome home when they return?' She cursed out loud when another lockpick broke with a dry metallic pang. She stood up determinedly. 'It just turns out they apparently hired the best locksmith in this whole damned city. With no doubt you must know him; it has to be a dwarf.' She glared menacing at him. 'No other race is capable of making unbreakable locks. That was my last one by the way. So either you provide me with a new set or you drag that blasted dwarf right here to this blasted door and force him to demolish his own work.' This time her glare was outright threatening. 'And, if I have to be honest, buckets of whitewash hovering over doors standing ajar don't count as a trap.'

Varric fluttered his hands apologetically. 'I know, I know. Worst idea ever. I just got taken away. Don't forget we have plenty of time to come up with the good stuff. We just have to find a way to get into this mansion to take in the scenery, walk around the place, measure things up, get fabulous ideas just by looking around –'

'Yes, exactly. We just have to get into the mansion,' mocked Isabela, 'we only have to conquer an unconquerable door. Because don't forget they not only replaced the lock to give every bastard who gives it a try a hard time to bash through this fucking door but we also tried, I hope you remember this particular action,' - this was followed by another venomous glare – 'to smash the windows and as you have noticed the scallywags made those unbreakable too in some eerie way, I mean who comes up with the idea of ordering reinforced glass.'

'Someone who has experienced a certain pirate steeling into their property and is afraid she will be followed by an army of slavers,' Varric mumbled. All the while a vague idea was taking form in his mind.

'And not long ago you could simply enter through the holes in the roof but I have the creepy feeling they not only mended that very roof but have used steel slabs to keep intruders out. I wouldn't put it past them to have used enchanted slabs, even though the irresistible appetizing elf detests magic. But for her sake he would do anything. They're just not playing fair! I mean –'

But Varric wasn't listening to her complaints any longer. The vague idea had blossomed and borne fruit. He beamed at Isabela. 'Who needs lockpicks when you have a Daisy.'

The greased axes of Isabela's train of thought collided with a nasty heap of mutinying sand and came to a squeaking halt.

'What?'

He took her reluctant arm and started to drag her along. 'Let's go collect our favourite Dalish elf.'

Normally Isabela's antennas were tuned to sex. This very moment they were tuned to disaster. Alas her respond, again, came no further than a lame "what?"

It took a while before the door opened and they came eye to eye with a flushed and dishevelled Merrill. Her hair was in disarray and she was clad in a nightshift she apparently had hastily dragged over her head since she wore it not only inside out but also the wrong way round.

'You were still sleeping?' Varric exclaimed incredulously, looking her upside down with wide eyes, 'at this time of the day?' He had never pictured Merrill as a sleep in kind of person. In so far he had pictured anything at all about her morning rituals it was something about sitting on the floor with a cup of tea, said tea getting cold while the piece of crockery which was holding the cooling liquid was hovering between her hand and her mouth and in the meantime her staring at that damned mirror of hers.

Nervously the small elf peeked back over her shoulder. 'Not exactly sleeping,' she muttered, blushing some more, 'uh, no, not sleeping.' She tried to smile and it looked rather sheepishly.

Normally Varric would have noticed the quite obvious signs within a heartbeat but right now he was too wound up to notice anything at all. The unyielding door and the remarks Isabela had made about the presumably with magic drenched roof occupied most of the thinking part of his brain. 'Doesn't matter,' he thus said impatiently, 'just get dressed. We need your help. Urgently.'

In the meantime Isabela was having a very hard time not to nudge the dwarf in the ribs – hard – or hug the elf as some kind of reward (go girl!) and getting a fit of laughter. This also managed to miss his awareness.

'Really? My help? Of course. But, er, I, er, I really –' Merrill tried helplessly. 'My help?' she ended weakly. Her eyes fluttered to Isabela. But even if the pirate had wanted to be some kind of assist Varric beat her on the spot. Even more blunt than before.

'Oh for the Maker's sake, Daisy,' the dwarf interrupted her awkward stammering, 'can't you just leave your demanding mirror alone for a couple of hours? I'm sure the blasted thing won't wander off on its own.'

'Yes, I mean no, er – oh, all right,' the Dalish elf sagged, (Isabela was pretty certain the mirror had nothing to do with the elf's stuttering demeanour) 'just give me a minute.' And she disappeared into her bedroom. There was a muffled sound of muted voices. Voices, with the emphasis on more than one. The dwarf frowned and replayed the scene that had occurred not a minute before in his head. Finally comprehension dawned and his jaw almost dropped through the floor.

'I hope you understand we just intruded on someone's private time,' Isabela remarked dryly. She looked sideways at the dwarf and saw his flustered expression. She grinned wickedly. 'Someone's very private time,' she underlined with malicious hilarity and added with even more nastiness, 'Tsk, Varric, that you of all people, as the notorious Storyteller no less, could not catch it. Shocking!'

Varric, to his dread, as good as blushed and grumbled a string of dwarven curses under his breath. But, being Varric, he put himself together at the same time. If the Guild Master had not been able to break him, then certainly a pirate queen or Dalish elf would not succeed. He looked up at Isabela. 'At least now I understand what kind of book Hawke and Fenris have gifted her with,' he said while the merriment in his eyes returned, 'and apparently it was intriguing enough to let Daisy put the, uh, theory into practise.'

'I would very much like to borrow that book,' Isabela nodded in agreement.

Steal it, more like, Varric thought.

Merrill came stumbling out off her bedroom, even more flushed than before, and immediately tripped over the knob of her staff she held upside-down. Behind her sounded the low reverberation of soft amused laughter. But at least she was decently dressed.

'Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?' the pirate asked eagerly. But Varric took the elf by the arm and started to drag her out of the hovel into Lowtown. 'Not now, Rivaini, I'm sure there will be plenty of time for that later. Look, Daisy, sweetheart, what we want you to do is this.' He caught her absent look. 'Are you paying attention?'

If it hadn't been for Varric the Dalish elf had blundered into a crate standing somewhere halfway the Alienage, inconveniently right in their line of walking. 'I, yes, of course,' she mumbled. She didn't even rub her knee. She only frowned. But with the colliding something sprang into life. Something Varric overlooked.

Gently the dwarf tapped her on the arm. 'Listen Daisy,' he began to explain while he guided her carefully through the city, 'I know you know some fabulous magical trick.'

'Yes, Varric,' Merrill said patiently, 'I know many.' But behind the patience Varric discerned a sliver of irritation. He shot to attention. Merrill never sounded irritated. This bode nothing well. In hindsight he already reacted too late, especially because he didn't reacted at all, that is, not adequately. But who had been able to foresee ...

'This one comes with launching lots of rocks.' His voice croaked a little. Merrill's appearance, her – irritated – appearance put him off balance. For some reason she at this moment didn't look like his sweet Daisy.

'Stonefist,' Merrill understood. Her face resembled the rock he had referred to. Or that stonefist she mentioned. Varric swallowed. And swallowed his uneasiness away. Again.

'Indeed.' The dwarf was relieved she had at least a part of her concentration back, as far as Merrill and concentration went together in the first place. In the meantime they had reached Fenris's mansion and the dwarf indicated the stubborn lock while still looking her up and down in a slightly concerned way. Steady rock. Stone. He didn't' feel comfortable but willed the uncanny feeling away. This was the lovable Dalish elf. What could go wrong? He bravely soldiered on. 'See that? That's a lockpick-eater but it's vital we open the door. So, what I want you to do is –'

'I get it.' By now irritation had without doubt seriously kicked in. 'And this couldn't have waited till later?'

Varric cringed.

'Ooh! Was he that good?!' Isabela cooed excitedly. Stupid woman, shut up!

Varric cringed some more. He felt a blasting disaster was about to happen. Not seconds later he would be put in the right about at least the blast. He tried to stop Merrill but was stopped dead himself by her next remark.

'Who said he was a he?'

This was so unexpected, not the information as such but more the soft though vicious if not sniping tone in which the words were uttered, that both Varric and Isabela stared open-mouthed at the small elf. It was like seeing a sheep rebel and suddenly snap at the heels of the sheepdog. They had never seen her looking like – that.

Varric cleared his throat. Delicately. 'Right. I suppose it could have waited but since we're here anyway perhaps you could shoot the annoying piece of metal out off the bloody door ..?'

Without an answer Merrill aimed her staff at the lock. Well, mostly the lock. Or rather far more than the lock. Even if he had wanted to he hadn't been able to hold her back. Afterwards he blamed himself thought he never would admit it.

After the deafening rumbling had ceased somewhat Varric said, 'O-kay. Daisy, please do clarify what went wrong.' His voice sounded muffled through the clouds of dust and the dull thumps of falling lumps of masonry counterpointed by the ticking of a plaster shower.

Horrified Merrill stared at the chaos she had created. Apparently she had descended from the heights of fury or at least irritation to fall into the pit of despair with the speed of light. She put a fist in her mouth and whimpered around the knuckles. 'I'm so sorry!' she squeaked. It seemed the sheep all at once comprehended why it shouldn't act like a bull.

'You did that on purpose, didn't you,' Isabela said not without appreciation. She picked a piece of plaster out off her hair.

'I didn't, I swear I didn't!' Merrill wailed, 'I don't understand what happened! I didn't mean this to happen! I don't know my own strength!'

'That's what good sex does for you,' the pirate queen said with a broad knowing grin.

'Fenris will be so angry!' Merrill whinged, 'He will be soooo mad!' Her desperate moan made even Isabela wince. 'I ruined his house! Oh Creators, what will he do?!'

Varric tried to brush off the worst of the dust. It made him look like a snowman that had gone chimney sweeping. Or like a desperate zebra, fully aware of its inexorable fate. 'He will go spare,' he predicted darkly, 'he will totally go spare. And he will not only rip our hearts out but every other organ as well.'

'You think so? He also has good sex nowadays,' Isabela optimistically put forward, 'he might be in a forgiving mood. He might even see the humour of it all.' The dust began to settle and she took in the damage. The whole entrance had been blown away as well as half of the parlour. At the very moment a considerable section of the ceiling gave in and fell with a dramatic crash on what was left of the floor.

Her mouth twitched but never became a smile. 'Nope. He will totally go spare.'

Perhaps not the Big Bang but it comes close. Poor Merrill.

Thank you all so much for reading! And even more special thanks for you who have taken the effort to review this story. You have a secret but sweet spot in my heart; you have made my day.