Part 20

As I promised: finally a new chapter.

Enjoy!

... and, after a hiatus that lasted too long, the story just keeps on continuing.

Just before midday Hawke walked out off the office of the Viscount, with the pleased expression of a cat treasuring a stolen bowl of cream plastered on her face. She sauntered down the stairs into the Barracks and threw the door to Aveline's domain wide open. She stopped dead on the threshold.

The Guard Captain, for the moment blissfully oblivious of Hawke's presence, had propped up her bright shining shield against a stack of books on her desk and was studying herself intensely in the reflection. She looked very critical at what she saw. She pushed her headband a millimetre down, and back up again, altered something unnoticeable about her hair, pinched her cheeks, wriggled her eyebrows, with the thumbs and index fingers from each hand stretched the skin below her eyes, tried out a smile that resembled a hysterical grimace at best, and finally let out a deep, deep sigh.

'I never took you for the vain sort of people,' Hawke chimed, after she had observed the bizarre, somewhat unsettling, scene with rising amazement.

The effect was disastrous.

Aveline let out a terrified shriek. She stumbled backwards, made an ineffective attempt at holding on to the desk and tumbled over her chair that, under the weight of her armour, agonizingly slow but with inevitable certainty fell over. She landed, with a series of metallic clanks, in a heap against the bookcase that dangerously started to wobble. A few volumes came crashing down and hit her unprotected head. The shield on the desk slipped and fell with a loud booiiing on her with steel clad legs, taking with it the just filled inkpot and a shower of papers. And the stack of books collapsed to happily add to the chaos.

It took Hawke quite a while to excavate her friend. Especially because said friend wasn't very cooperative. 'You, you,' Aveline screamed, 'you horrible person!'

'You should work on your obscenities,' Hawke offered her some good advice, when she had finally managed to pull Aveline out off the debris. 'This is even worse than "shut up whore".'

'What are you doing here?' Aveline breathlessly demanded to know. She had a nasty bruise on her brow where a particularly vicious book had hit her (I hope it was The Complete People's Laws of Kirkwall, Hawke couldn't help thinking menacingly), her headband had slipped and covered one of her eyes, giving her the look of a scowling but law abiding pirate, which was more than hilarious, and her armour was dripping with ink. A few drops had splattered around, and now dusted the pale skin of her features like black freckles. Adding to the red ones already existing aplenty.

With all her might Hawke tried to keep a straight face. 'I came from a tête-à-tête with the Viscount, and I thought it would be nice to pay my eldest friend a visit,' she explained. 'If that makes me a horrible person, so be it. The more pressing questions is: what the hell were you doing?'

For the second time Aveline let out a desperate sigh. She more or less readjusted her headband and started to randomly pick up some of the papers that lay strewn around on the floor. She changed her mind halfway that hopeless task and instead sank heavily down in the chair Hawke had erected. 'Am I still attractive?'

Confused Hawke furrowed her brows. 'What are you talking about?'

Aveline shrugged and she looked so forlorn that Hawke almost felt the urge to take her into a comforting embrace. She would have done, if not for the fear she would get her arm bitten off. 'I'm not getting any younger,' the Guard Captain complained. 'This morning I discovered a grey hair. It made me realise the years are showing.'

'You make it sound like you're approaching the dotage age,' said Hawke with a light frown. 'Don't be daft, you silly goose. You're still a formidable woman.' She lowered herself on a corner of the desk and wondered why her friend made such a fuss about her appearance. She had never done so before.

'The same can be said of the Grand Cleric,' Aveline sneered, heatedly. 'Formidable is not important right now. The point is, am I still attractive?' Marian stared dumbly at her, but then a suspicion began to rise. 'I am not, am I?' Aveline went on, sounding wretched. 'You can say it straight into my face: I'm shrivelling and wrinkling and greying, and –'

'Who is he?' Hawke interrupted her friend's torrent of self-pity.

The Guard Captain fell abruptly silent. She stuck out her chin and grumbled through her teeth, 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'I'm sure you don't,' Hawke replied, cheerily. 'So come out with it. I'll guarantee you it'll make you feel better.'

'You can't tell anyone,' Aveline pressed, panic suddenly showing on her face. 'Especially not the pirate wench!'

'I would be shocked if she doesn't know already,' Marian said. And why didn't I know, she thought in the meantime, apparently I've been too absorbed with too many other issues, to miss this fun. Shame on me.

Aveline's face contorted and she groaned. Loudly. 'She has her suspicions.'

'Of course she has.'

'But she doesn't know for certain. So keep your mouth shut. Promise me!'

'Yes, yes, I promise.' Hawke was growing impatient. 'Now tell me!'

Aveline deflated somewhat and dropped her hands in her lap. 'It's Donnic,' she mumbled, flushing crimson the moment she mentioned the name.

'Donnic? As in "Donnic the bloke we pulled out off a trap in Lowtown" Donnic?' Hawke's face split into a huge beam. 'Ow, it was a honey trap!' she cooed excited. 'I already thought the alley was buzzing with expectations! When are you going to ask him out?'

'Probably never,' Aveline sourly groused. 'And keep your voice down. The whole of Kirkwall can hear you shout.'

Hawke ignored that last part. 'Why not?' she asked, genuinely astounded.

'Because, obviously, not everyone is gifted with your charming wits,' said Aveline, pretty irritably.

Before Hawke got the chance to react, a knock sounded on the door and a concerned voice rang out. 'Captain, are you all right? I heard a noise coming from – what happened here?!'

Aveline froze.

Hawke turned her head to see Donnic standing in the door opening, staring with wide opened eyes at the bedlam his Captain's tripping over the chair had caused. She grinned inwardly; oh, this was too good an opportunity to squander! Sweet revenge was beckoning, or, even better, frantically gesticulating with both arms. So she amicably said, 'Donnic! Just the one we need.' Aveline made a choking sound, but Marian paid it no attention whatsoever.

'Eh, me..?' Donnic hesitantly said. His eyes darted nervously from one woman to the other.

'Exactly the right person,' Hawke merrily insisted. She airily waved in the direction of her friend, who sat as rigid as a statue behind her desk, clutching the edge with both hands, as if it were a lifebelt or her last line of defence. 'Your Captain has got the idiotic idea in her head that she's lost her youth, and with it her desirability. Do us all a favour and tell her that's rubbish, before she starts to wear one of those ridiculous Orlesian masks.' Her whole face radiated mischief. 'Unless, of course, you're of another opinion.'

'I will kill you,' Aveline hissed.

Donnic grasped the opportunity to take a good look at his superior. Her headband still hung somewhat askew over her brow, her hair was a mess, her face was dotted with little dark specks and she was blushing so profoundly that she was in serious danger of spontaneous combustion. He thought she looked adorable. 'I, er.' Awkwardly he cleared his throat. 'I don't think a mask is necessary,' he concluded.

'That was a smooth compliment if I ever heard one.' Hawke's voice dripped with sarcasm and the Guard Captain looked like the perfect example of complete and utter desolation. With more than a hint at slow and gruesome murder.

Donnic coughed again and mustered his courage. 'That's because you didn't let me finish.' He stepped inside the office and fired his most captivating smile at his flustered Captain. The danger of combustion came even closer. 'I think you're an amazing woman, and very good-looking, too.'

'Great!' Hawke said, brightly. 'That wasn't so hard after all, was it.' She hopped off the desk and made her way to the door. 'I'll take my leave now, I'm certain you two will sort it out without further assistance. See you, Aveline. Be brave.' She winked at Donnic when she passed him. 'Buy the girl a drink. I think she needs one.' In a stage whisper she let follow, 'Be gentle with her, she's a bit rusty.' Delicately she closed the door behind her back before she started to laugh wholeheartedly.

The silence she left behind was ear deafening.

Donnic chewed on a few remarks but his Captain beat him to it.

'I am so sorry,' Aveline croaked, thankful that her voice still operated. She didn't dare look at Donnic who, at this awful moment, presented more her love interest than her subordinate. She was too afraid what she might find.

'Don't be,' Donnic responded with a little chuckle. In fact, the last aside Hawke had dropped, had strengthened his confidence. 'You know what? I'll help you clean up the place, you can clean up yourself, and after that you can tell me what precisely happened, over a few drinks. My treat.'

Aveline's smile was so brittle, it might actually crack. 'I'd like that,' she managed and felt three inches high. She tried to find back the shards of her shattered dignity by straightening her shoulders. 'But not the Hanged Man,' she said with some of her old fire. 'Everywhere but the Hanged Man.'

Varric was anxiously pacing his suite, all the while wrecking his head for a wedding solution. He had promised Hawke the pomp and circumstance, complete with the pretty dress and the lovely, mysterious Elvhen rituals. He had even been willing to shed a few emotional tears for her benefit. He had never reckoned Marethari would bluntly refuse. 'I never should have sent Merrill,' he muttered. 'Or at least I should have gone with her. Of course she lost it when what's-his-name stood her up on the spot.' Perhaps he could try to bribe the Keeper, but for several reasons she didn't strike him as a corruptible person. And what had a dwarf to offer that a Dalish elf possibly could desire? Money? Very unlikely. In fact, the only thing he could think of were halla, but even he, with all his connections, hadn't the slightest clue how or where to obtain a herd of those animals. No, the Dalish had been a good idea, till the moment they weren't anymore. So who, in the name of all the numerous Ancestors, could perform the ceremony?

Isabela stuck her head around his door. 'Still mulling over plan B?' she informed.

'The non-existent plan B,' Varric grumbled. 'Unless you've come up with something brilliant during your, er, morning exercises.'

The pirate queen entered the room and, to Varric's relief, she brought a pitcher with ale along. 'Have you considered the consequences?' she asked while she placed the jug on the table.

'Have we even considered the meaning of the word?' Varric parried, mordantly. 'And since when do you bother with consequences?'

'If we don't succeed in getting them married, one way or another, they will live on with the illusion they are husband and wife.'

So?' said Varric who didn't see the gravity of that particular problem.

Isabela poured two mugs with ale. 'Imagine that one day they will get children.' Her nose crunched with disgust at the sheer idea. 'Or there will be a case of, oh I don't know, an inheritance or some other money related issue. Sooner or later they will find out. Are you willing to leave Kirkwall in a rush to avoid an attempt on your life?' She sat down and rested her feet on the tabletop. She wiggled her eyebrows at Varric, to let him know she wasn't really serious and was just trying to work him up. She succeeded far better than she had anticipated.

The dwarf downed half of the contents of his mug in one go. 'It seems I'm losing my touch,' he muttered, wearily. 'That horror scenario hadn't yet crossed my mind.'

'If everything else fails, we can always steal a ship and I can make you my first mate,' Isabela suggested optimistically.

Varric didn't deign to answer that; he just shot her a dark scowl. He rested his hand against the liquor-cabinet and glumly stared into the ever crackling fire in his hearth. 'I followed Fenris this morning,' he said, pensively. 'I thought he was up to something, but it turned out he just made some kind of sentimental journey to his mansion. That is, as far as I could conclude.'

'Why Fenris? I'm pretty certain Hawke is the evil genius behind all their pranks.'

But Varric shook his head. 'I'm not so sure. There's more to the elf than meets the eye. He's a complicated package, that one.'

'A very yummy package,' said Isabela; her look automatically clicked fast in the sultry mode.

Varric chose to ignore that as well. 'For instance, we all know he can glow like a beacon, when angry or agitated or in the middle of a fight,' he continued, unperturbed. 'But who had ever thought he could glow with happiness?' He abandoned the cabinet, made a hesitant step, stopped and started staring at the wall carving without truly seeing anything of its beauty and craftsmanship. He said, ruminating, 'I'm convinced that somewhere under all that glowing, he hides a malicious streak.' Absent-mindedly he scratched his chest hair. 'I have a – hunch that something dreadful is about to happen.'

'Like what?' scoffed Isabela. She thought the dwarf was hopelessly overreacting.

'I don't know, but I can feel it in my bo–'

'Stones!' Isabella triumphantly exclaimed and went into a fit of laughter.

Varric glared poisoned daggers at her. He slammed his mug on the table, turned abruptly and left the room. 'Thanks for the help,' he angrily yelled over his shoulder. 'I'm going to tell the happy couple the wedding on Sundermount is off. Maybe they will come up with something constructive.'

'Like banging you over the head with Bianca!' Isabela shouted gleefully after him. She leaned comfortably back in her chair and took a sip of her ale. She didn't understand what Varric was fretting about. 'Hunch!' she mocked. 'More likely a troubled conscience. Old softy.'

Varric was still cursing under his breath when he reached the Hightown Market.

Hawke came home in a jolly mood and found Fenris standing at the counter in the kitchen, eating a bread roll with cured ham. Tempest was crouching at his feet, begging for scraps and playing the obedient dog for a change. 'You're looking pleased,' the elf greeted her. 'I take it your conversation with the Viscount went as planned?'

'It went perfectly well,' Marian beamed. 'He is willing to cooperate, although I suspect he didn't half understand what it was all about. And there live creatures on the bottom of the sea that have a better sense of humour than he has, but that probably only helped the case. And you're spoiling my dog.'

Fenris dropped another piece of ham that Tempest deftly caught between his jaws. 'I don't think that is technically possible,' he dryly observed. 'You already did the best part of that job.'

Hawke put her arms around his waist and in the movement stole a bite from his bread roll. 'I plead guilty,' she mumbled with her mouth full. 'This would taste better with a lick of mustard.'

'Suit yourself,' said Fenris, pointing at the larder.

But Hawke decided she'd rather stayed snuggled against his body. She rubbed her nose against the skin of his neck. 'And then I went and performed an act of charity,' she declared, solemnly.

'What?' Fenris reacted, slightly bemused.

Hawke fluttered her hand and swallowed her bite. 'That can wait. First tell me what you were doing this morning. Must have been something important, to leave me all lonesome and cold in our bed.'

'It was important,' Fenris affirmed. 'As a matter of fact, I have something for you. A present.'

'Really?' Hawke heaved her head in surprise. 'A present? What did I do to deserve that?'

'Do you have a minute or two?' Fenris smirked, 'it's quite a long list.'

Hawke nearly blushed. She planted a wet kiss on his skin and he had to back down a pleasant shiver. 'Flatterer,' she as good as giggled. 'I bet there are scores of character flaws you'd rather not add to that list of yours.'

He took her hand and led her out off the kitchen, through the dining room and into the library. 'Well, now you mention it... Your persistent urge to frolic is rather disturbing. As is your tendency to act like a squirrel.'

'See!' Hawke grinned with a broad smile. 'That's a good start. I bet you will think of plenty more if you put your back into it. Although I thought you rather liked the frolicking part.'

'Like I pointed out before, it turned out less dreadful than I had feared beforehand, I'll give you that.' They had reached the library and Fenris let go of her hand. 'Wait here,' he said and walked over to the desk. He rummaged in the drawer and retrieved an almost square, heavy looking packet, wrapped in plain paper that looked suspiciously like the cheep exemplars they had used for his writing lessons. (It had been the best Fenris could have found, given the short time that had been available.) He handed it to Hawke who took it and removed the cover.

She stared at the result and after that at him. 'It ... it's a book,' she said, hardly able to stifle her laughter.

'Yes. Very funny, Marian. I should have known you'd say that. Are you going to tell me you can't read next? I turned the mansion upside down to find this. As you can see, since I am pretty sure your eyesight still works fine,' (at this he glared viciously at her) 'it's The Legend of Calenhad. A while ago you said this was one of your favourite books, but you were forced to leave your copy behind in Lotharing.'

Hawke bit her lip and carefully laid the book on the table next to the sofa. 'I can't believe you remembered that.'

'Of course I did. My memory may still not operate as it should, but my brain is very well capable of storing information.' He sounded a little surly, but that was soon remedied when, not a moment later, Marian almost smothered him in a firm embrace.

'Thank you so much,' she said, hoarsely and moved to tears. 'I'm sorry I teased you. This is the most wonderful gift you could have granted me. Besides yourself.'

Fenris chuckled softly and tenderly brushed her brow with his lips. 'I thought it could serve as some kind of engagement present. We decided not to get married right now, but there was some kind of promise – '

She interrupted him with such a heated kiss it left him shuddering and wanting. He almost staggered back when she broke the kiss and he wasn't able to react. 'You want to marry me somewhere in the future?'

'I thought we already decided on that,' he murmured, rather bewildered.

She let go of him. 'Wait here, please,' was all she said before she darted out off the room, rendering him completely stunned.

In her haste she stumbled over Tempest, that had taken position at the bottom of the stairs, but she managed to make it to her mother's former bedroom in one piece. She didn't need much time to find what she was looking for; her mother's belongings were still in place. It took her but a minute to return to the library.

Fenris noticed there was a red item dangling from her fingers. 'This,' she said, swallowing down a lump in her throat, 'was Mother's favourite hair ribbon. I know that because she wore it all the time. I believe Father once gave it to her.' She looked pleadingly at him. 'You would honour me, and her remembrance, if you agree to wear it.'

Not capable of finding something to say at this unexpected grave moment, Fenris tentatively stretched out his hand to her and she took the opportunity to grab his wrist and tie the ribbon around it. She gave him a fragile, though shining smile. 'I gather we are properly engaged by now.'

Still speechless, Fenris pulled her into his arms. He translated his gratitude and swelling emotions into slanting his lips over hers and kissing her passionately.

They got interrupted by Bodahn who hesitated a moment at the scene that took place before his very eyes. But he got nudged on by an impatient hand, pushing him forward. 'There is a visitor for you, Messeres,' he announced, feeling rather crossed about the behaviour of the unexpected intruder.

Marian and Fenris turned at the sound of his voice. To their amazement Varric entered, with a face as if he was about to attend a funeral. That foreboded nothing good.

I can't believe I once started this as a one shot, with two runner ups to follow, and then decided to write one or two more chapters to make a real story out of it. And here we are, one and a half dozen chapters later and still no end to it. How typical me.

Anyway, thank you all so much for staying with me along this more than once difficult road!