Part 19

And this is part two of the new approach. Like I explained in the last chapter, I had to alter things because I went for a total different ending than I had, vaguely, in my mind before.

And, again, thanks for your patience and reading. I really do appreciate it greatly!

It started with a kiss and on and on it went. Something between a merry-go-round and a rollercoaster I suppose...

Enjoy!

It was early in the morning. So early in fact, the sun hadn't risen yet; a grey light seeped into Hightown and slowly descended to Lowtown, but, however early it was, once again the sky was full of the promise of yet another bright day. There seemed to come no end to this exceptionally hot summer. The only difference was that the morning air slowly but surely began to obtain that special tang of chilliness that indicated autumn was on its way.

Fenris stood before his mansion and stared pensively at the new door and fresh masonry. The workmen had done a terrific job and restored the house to its full – well, glory was perhaps a too exaggerated word since there hadn't been much of glory to speak of in the first place. That was, before Marian and he had put their backs into it, cleaned the place up and had made some drastic repairs. But the way the mansion looked now, at least the front, did let spring the words "recovered from near to death" to mind. Or perhaps "my home is my castle" did it more credit. He shook his head and wondered how much silver, or better gold, all the labour had cost. And more important: who had paid for it. He had a nasty suspicion the money had come from the coffers of the Merchants' Guild. He had offered to pay the workers with his new found wealth, but Varric had frantically waved the suggestion into oblivion. 'No need elf,' he had stated boldly, 'put your money to better use, this damage is covered. And, after all, it was not your fault the situation went violently and irrevocably boom.' He had looked very cheeky at those words.

Fenris shivered, more at the present cold and less at the memory. Due to the warm, seemingly everlasting summer, he had forgotten how cold it could get in these parts of the world. Venhedis. He was glad he had taken a fur lined cloak from Marian's wardrobe, and pulled the garment closer around his frame. The morning chill seemed to creep into his bones. He sneezed and cursed again. Not now.

At least he had taken his share in the toiling and it didn't matter for what reason. Just as it didn't matter, by the way, the reason had been double-sided. He had wanted to forestall a nasty catfight and at the same time had felt the urge to do his bit. Like he had said back then, it was his mansion and he might have neglected the premises for a long time, he felt responsible for it. He could still feel the aching in his back, although Marian had given him a thorough massage after a long relaxing bath. A massage, uh, what the expression?, ah yes, a massage with a happy ending. She insisted it was one of the packages the Rose offered. Just rumours, she had stated adamantly, not something I personally experienced. He smiled faintly at the memory. The umpteenth time they had made love.

It was hard to believe how much had occurred in such a short time. One day he was that brooding elf, commenting gruffly, or prickly, or not at all, to everything that happened around him and was said to him, with lots of issues haunting his every dream and, to be frank, most of his waking hours as well. The next he was the lover of the most beautiful and lovely and caring and understanding – though now and again off balance and too much acting on impulse (but was that not just one of the many reasons he loved her? Yes it was) woman he had ever met. And head over heels had fallen in love with, notwithstanding the fact he had feebly tried to deny it. This brought up a sarcastic snort, deftly covered with another sneeze. Nowadays he felt completely content. Yes, contentment was a sentiment that had got the best of him of late. To his own astonishment. Or perhaps happiness was even a better word. He let out a small sigh. A – ah – contented sigh. And yet another sneeze.

He shifted his weight to his other foot and let his mind wander, randomly picking through the recent occurrences... He had learned his real nam;, that had been shock, in all the possible meanings of the word. He had regularly flashes of his life before the markings happened, bright ones. But even so, he never had felt the panicky drive to leave Marian because of it anymore. Perhaps, in contrary, he wanted even more to stay with her because of those still fleeting but ever clearer popping up memories. Lingering memories. The puzzle was still mostly empty but he had seized some of the edges and even though the whole picture still was beyond his hold, he felt grateful he had those fragments. He was no longer a nickname; he was a person. A person with a given name. No longer a pet, leashed to a collar, leached to a master. She had made it happen, involuntarily of course at the first time, but although it had made him greatly upset back then, he now could see she had given him a wonderful gift. The gift of his own identity. And that was the main part why he had stayed with her. She resembled his past and future all together.

And she had said and stated with emphasis she loved him. Without question. Even with his problematic past and all the troubles that came with it.

It was mesmerising.

This was the reason why he had come here alone, so early in the morning, while Marian was still sleeping in their bed. Their bed. He smiled again. He screwed his eyes shut and let the words resonate in his head. Their bed. Still so hard to understand and to grasp. He wanted to think about everything that had happened to him, to them, while strolling around his old home. He wanted to walk through the mansion, through all the rooms he never had used, to stand in the one he had lived in for the past years, to mull over his old life and compare it to the new one he lived now. To definitively say goodbye to the old Fenris and welcome the new one. To say welcome to Leto. Although, honestly, he had still difficulties with that name, strange it might be. It had nothing to do with the absurd way he had learned about it. But Marian called him by his – old name. Slave name perhaps, collared name. For her those sour and dire attachments didn't count. He could hear the echo of her voice, crying out his name – Fenris! – in exaltation when she reached her completion, and he wouldn't change that for the world. She was the one who had liberated his collared name; she was the one who had turned the slave Fenris into the free Fenris. Leto was a stranger he still didn't know, however much he wanted to learn about him. About their mutual history. He knew by now his mother had long flowing red hair. That was a start and a thing to treasure.

He realised his thoughts started to become an incoherent rambling and snapped his eyes open. To his dismay he had to sneeze again. Time to get out of the morning chill.

He was about to finally push open the new door, when he got interrupted by a well known and not at all welcome voice. His hand faltered and he let out a deep sigh. Does the dwarf ever sleep? Fasta vass! Why can't he leave me in peace once in a while!

Varric announced his appearance in his usual cheerful baritone and his usual come-what-may aplomb. 'All on your own, elf?' he asked innocently and at the same time with a hardly hidden curious note. 'I thought you and Hawke were joined at the hip nowadays.'

Fenris rolled his eyes but decided at the same moment the dwarf wouldn't get the chance to needle him. Not again and certainly not at this time; instead he would give him a taste of his own medicine. Without twitching a muscle he reacted dryly, 'Not exactly joined at the hip, I would say.' To his satisfaction it left Varric slack-jawed for a few precious moments and Fenris grinned inwardly, very pleased with this little, but nonetheless significant victory. If the grin had floated to the surface, Varric, without doubt, had categorised it under "The Mother of all Cynicism".

'Not only bearing a happy face but developing a sense of humour as well,' the dwarf muttered resentfully after those very hard moments of silence. 'This is getting tricky, if not alarming.'

'Just so you know it,' Fenris chortled darkly. He finally pushed the heavy door open, but on second thought stepped aside, and waved carelessly into the spacious new hall, inviting the dwarf to enter first; he trusted him as far as he could throw him. 'Be my guest,' he said light-heartedly, with a crooked smile.

Varric fired a sardonic glance at him. 'Afraid for nasty surprises?'

'With everything that has happened clearly in mind, I wouldn't put it past you,' Fenris replied unperturbed. 'And you know how the saying goes: better to be safe than sorry.'

For a moment Varric contemplated to play the hurting party, but thought the better of it. Instead he beamed broadly. 'Don't worry, elf, we're done in the damage-department. If only because Aveline would tear us apart.'

'There could be traps,' Fenris pointed out.

Varric grinned boyishly. 'Lest you forgot, the whole accidently blowing up of this mansion started because of traps, or better because we couldn't get access to set them. So we never got the chance to prepare something wickedly ingenious.' He wrinkled his nose and sneezed loudly, much to Fenris's surprise who looked at him with raised brows. 'It's the dust,' Varric explained sniffing, wiping his nose. 'It hasn't settled yet after the rebuilding. Who'd have thought a few bricks, plaster and cement would cause such a dust cloud.'

Fenris cocked his head, feeling relieved. 'And I thought I was coming down with a cold.'

Varric looked him up and down. 'Dressed like that?! You're kitted up like you're about to face a polar winter!'

'You're shamelessly exaggerating, as always. And it can get dreadfully cold in Kirkwall,' Fenris defensively put forward.

'During the wintertime maybe!' Varric cried out incredulously, 'and even then only occasionally. And right now it's still summer! This is Kirkwall! Not Ferelden!'

'This morning is was cold enough to put on a cloak,' Fenris persisted stubbornly.

'Have it your way,' Varric said with a light wave of his hand. 'What are you doing here anyway, at this hour? In this unbearable cold,' he added sarcastically.

'I could ask you the same question,' Fenris parried.

'Yes. I suppose you could.' Frantically the dwarf thought of an explanation for his presence; no way in the world he would admit he was stalking the elf to find out what his, or Hawke's, next move would be. 'I came here to inspect the work that has been carried out,' he said, attempting to mask the triumph over his ad hoc excuse. 'To see if they delivered value for my, er, for their money.'

So you are the mastermind behind the financing, Fenris thought, just like I figured. But he decided not to comment.

In the meantime Varric had entered the hallway. 'How is Hawke doing by the way?' he asked innocently.

'She is perfectly fine,' said Fenris while he followed the dwarf inside. 'Why shouldn't she be?'

Varric started meticulously tapping the wall between the hall and the parlour. 'Well, she didn't seem that fine the other night when –'

'She is perfectly fine now,' Fenris interrupted him impatiently. 'What are you doing?'

Varric looked up, genuine amazement spread over his face. 'Putting my dwarven expertise into practice, what else?'

Fenris opened his mouth, changed his mind and clicked his jaws shut at the same moment. 'I don't want to know,' he mumbled and wandered off into the mansion.

When Varric returned home to his suite in the Hanged Man, he found a very upset Merrill waiting for him.

'She doesn't want to do it,' the small elf wailed, near to tears.

Varric put the pitcher with ale he had taken with him upstairs on the table. 'Calm down Daisy. Take a deep breath and start anew. Who doesn't want to do what?'

'The Keeper,' Merrill snivelled, 'she doesn't want to perform the ritual. She says she doesn't want to co-operate with a sham.'

'A sham or a shem?' Varric said before he could stop himself.

'It's not funny!' Merrill cried and now the tears started to flow in earnest.

Varric walked over to the Dalish elf and put a comforting arm around her narrow shoulders. 'It's not that bad, Daisy, we can find another solution.' Softly he squeezed her arm. Frankly, he didn't comprehend her distress. He'd sooner expect her to be angry and annoyed by Marethari's refusal, not completely desolated.

'And Pahdell stayed behind,' Merrill whined.

'Who stayed – ah.' Comprehension dawned. The sudden deluge wasn't caused by a failed mission but by a broken heart. If the first love-affair was the most beautiful, the first heartache was certainly the worst. He sat down next to her. 'Shall I make you a – er – cup of tea?' he offered, meanwhile wrecking his mind about how to accomplish such a feat. He hadn't produced a cup of tea in his entire life and doubted highly Corff had. He was quite certain there wouldn't be a single tealeaf to be found in the Hanged Man.

'Don't bother,' Merrill mumbled nasally, crossly rubbing at her damp cheeks. 'I'd rather have a glass of rum.'

'Uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea,' Varric hesitantly said. 'Remember what happened the last time you tried to drown your misery in alcohol?'

There appeared a dangerous glimmer in Merrill's eyes. 'I'm not trying to drown my misery, I'm trying to prevent myself from smashing everything into bits and pieces.'

Varric was already halfway his liquor-cabinet. He poured the Dalish elf a strong one and pushed the glass into her hands. 'And we cannot have that, can we,' he said cheerfully.

'No,' Merrill grimly agreed and took a large gulp. 'Can you believe it? No sooner had he seen the camp, or the jerk declared he wanted to become Dalish and the Keeper was all sweet and motherly around him, oozing understanding and acceptance.'

Varric strode, alright, scurried, into the corridor while Merrill kept on griping behind his back. '... and she never takes in strangers just like that. I bet she did it to pester me, to rub into my nose ...' 'Rivaini!' he bellowed, 'Get your lazy ass out off the sack, we have a problem!'

A few seconds later a very sleepy Isabela showed up in the door opening. 'Huh?'

'I'm afraid we turned Daisy into an alcoholic.'

Isabela scratched her head, making some kind of scarecrow wig of her already dishevelled hair. 'And what is the problem?'

Varric threw her a dirty look but swallowed back the colourful insults his mind came up with. Instead he grabbed the pirate by the wrist and, cursing under his breath, dragged her into his suite. 'The second problem is the Keeper doesn't want to have anything to do with our so smartly invented ritual. We have to come up with something different. Did you perchance think of a plan B?'

The pirate queen plopped down into a chair and yawned ostentatiously. 'It's far too early for a plan B, Varric.' She frowned lightly. 'What's the matter Kitten? Got dumped?'

'He's an asshole,' Merrill growled viciously.

'All men are assholes, sweetness,' Isabela drawled, empathizing.

'Hey!' Varric flew up but Isabela beat him with a sugary smile. 'Except for you of course.' She indicated the by now half empty glass Merrill was clutching as if her life depended upon it. 'Any chance there's more where that came from? It's hard to think clearly without a sip or two in the early morning. Let alone about alphabetically organized plans.'

And so Varric was forced to sacrifice another measure of his rum. 'I was thinking,' he said pensively, 'since you're a captain, Rivaini, perhaps you can marry our celebrated couple.'

Isabela reacted as if a bucket with ice water got emptied over her head. She bolted up right and spluttered a generous mouthful of alcohol over the surface of the table. 'Oh no!' she shrieked, 'no no no no no no! You know my feelings about marriages! I'm still all too happy I have escaped the one I was entangled in myself! Not even at knifepoint I will commit such a disgusting act! Do it yourself!'

'I don't have the authority,' Varric protested helplessly.

The pirate queen jutted her chin out. 'And neither have I. Not without a ship. Find another idiot.'

'The only other idiot available is Sebastian. And he is out of the question, since Hawke doesn't accept him because of his Chantry commitment.' Wearily Varric rubbed his brow. This was getting too much for one morning.

'Well, good for her,' Isabela snarled. 'And I think you will sooner persuade her than me.' With a fierce bang she flung her empty glass on the table. 'And if you don't mind, I'm going back to my room, before the candy in my bed has taken his leave.' She slammed the door shut behind her back.

Defeated Varric leaned back in his chair. ´So far for Plan B,´ he groused.

Merrill looked up, to the dwarf´s dread already a little hazily. 'Become a Dalish,´ she grumbled, ´yeah right. All roses and butterflies, until you get so-called ideas above your station.´

Varric groaned. He stood up, took the elf by an arm and resolutely started to navigate her to the door. ´Let´s get you home before another disaster happens.´

And, who knew, some brilliant brainwave would hit him during the walk to and from the Alienage.

Hawke woke up alone, but before panic even got the chance to kick in, she found the note Fenris had left on his pillow, explaining he would be back shortly. 'Hm,' she ruminated disappointed, 'I liked the rose petals better.' But, then again, there was work to do. Traps usually didn't spring themselves. 'Come on, boy,' she said to her dog, that had made its way into the bedroom after Fenris had left. 'Let's grab some breakfast and then I go to the Keep. And no, you cannot come with me.' Tempest gave her the classic look of the hurt puppy and reinforced his act with a convincing pitiful whine. 'You know that normally I don't mind the snooty nobles and officials turn their noses at me and call me Doglord, and even less you scare the living daylight out of them, but today I must be on my best behavior. And since you don't have a best behavior, you stay at home. But I promise I will take you out for a walk later.'

Tempest let out a happy bark and followed her downstairs.

After Varric had left the mansion, and had taken his sorry excuse for his presence with him, Fenris had started with thoroughly searching all the rooms. Every once in a while he uttered a soft curse. Some in the common tongue, most in Tevene. (He might despise the Imperium and everything connected to it, even he had to admit in no language you could curse better that in the Tevinter one.) He knew he had seen it somewhere, but this blasted mansion had so many blasted rooms, and he couldn't remember where he had come across the item. Yes, one of the reasons he had come here this morning, was to think about his life in an attempt to list all the recent events. Or better: to reflect on the unexpected turns his life had taken of late.

The other one was to find what he considered a perfect gift. Perhaps a cancelled, or postponed, wedding was not the best occasion to offer a present, but this idea had come up when he still thought they were married. Stupid he hadn't thought of it before. He was positive Marian would appreciate this more than whatever ring he would buy her.

He had almost given up when he, to his great relief, finally found it.

Oh yes, she would love this.

He closed the mansion and hurried back to the Amell Estate.

I promise: the next, long lasted, chapter is written and only needs editing. So, it won't take another six or more months to post.

And, once again, thank you for your patience and your everlasting support!