It started with a Kiss part 22

And ... the rollercoaster goes on, starting with an extremely distressed mage, bending through a narrow curve featuring a suspicious pirate, taking a loop with an exhilarated Captain and ending with an emergency break caused by a shocked-to-the-bone elf.

Anders sat at the rickety desk in his clinic, working on his Manifesto although his heart wasn't in it. Every other moment his thoughts drifted off to Hawke and that – rabid dog. To the moment that same rabid dog had practically forced himself upon her at the Wounded Coast, and before their stunned eyes had kissed her like a possessed animal. To Hawke's hurt look when she had accused them of Fenris's leaving, which had shocked him to the core, and still did, even though he knew by now she had been acting. And far, far worse, to the radiant glow in her eyes every time when they fell upon that mage hater. He pictured them together in bed and Fenris doing all kinds of stuff with her that he wanted to do with her. He cursed his vivid imagination. It didn't help Justice's normal distraction was absent. The spirit was still suspiciously quiet, if not timid, and failed completely to sternly reprimand him about these dangerous contemplations. Or, if need be, to urge him on with his actions regarding the Liberation of All Mages. With all the capitals neatly in place. No one was better at pronouncing capitals than Justice. Or inverted commas for that matter. And sometimes he had the audacity to combine the two. When he spoke about the "Mage Underground", for example, it was perfectly clear he thought the movement was commendable enough as such, but totally unworthy in the way they functioned. But lately he hadn't said much.

So it came completely as a surprise when he out of the blue rumbled, 'You should do something about the roses.'

Alarmed Anders flew upright. The quill that had idly rested upon the paper shot out and made a nasty scratch over the page, blotting out several scribbled words at once. He swore out loud. 'What roses?' he all but shouted in his distress.

'The roses on the wall,' said Justice meekly, apparently backing down under Anders´s savage retort. 'They constantly remind me of my not too finest hour. Perhaps you should cover them up with some paint or whitewash.'

'Oh really?!' Anders sarcastically cried out. 'Your "not too finest hour"? You don't say!' When it came down to pronouncing inverted commas, Justice could take a master class at this moment. 'And where, pray, should I find the resources to buy the cans of paint to hide your shame?'

'I'm certain you would have the money if you wouldn't gamble it away at the games of cards you play in that despicable establishment,' Justice audibly pouted, pushing it to the limit.

That did it. Enraged, Anders pushed his chair backwards and determinedly stood up. 'You may not have a body with urgent needs,' (like wanting to fuck the most desirable woman in Thedas completely senseless, he thought, grim and depressed at the same time), 'but I do. Like right now I'm going to the Hanged Man and play cards till I'm broke.' He considered this for a second. 'Even more broke.' He harshly went on, 'And while doing so, I'm going to get myself tanked up with all the rotten whisky the "despicable establishment" has to offer. And when I puke out my guts afterwards, I hope you feel it too. I hope you feel it worse.'

Justice started a feeble protest, but was cut short by a ferocious yelled, 'Just. Shut. Up!' He fled back into the crevice he hesitantly had emerged from and decided it was best to stay silent for a while longer.

Anders rammed the door to his clinic shut with such a vicious kick that the lantern fell from its hook, but he paid it no attention whatsoever. He stomped off, with the strong resolve not to return until he was only able to stagger and fall numbly on his cot. Perhaps then he would pull it off to fall asleep, and stay asleep, without the vision of Hawke constantly swimming through his mind.

A short time later Isabela glared at the same Hawke with narrowed eyes. 'A witness? To your wedding? Me?'

Hawke didn't twitch a muscle. 'Together with Varric, yes.'

'And to what extraordinary accomplishment do I deserve that honour?' For some reason she didn´t trust the other woman´s saccharine expression. Suddenly Varric's "hunch" came to mind. She had laughed about it the other day, but perhaps it hadn't been that much of a hunch after all. Perhaps the dwarf had been right with sensing some kind of terrible disaster, somewhere lurking in the future and biding its time to strike with dreadful force at the right moment. But whatever it was, Hawke's eyes all but shone with happy innocence and gave nothing away. Isabela's own eyes swivelled to Fenris who stood next to Hawke, but the elf wore his usual unfathomable poker-face and was as impossible to read as the menu of the Hanged Man. She'd sooner guess the contents of the mysterious stew than the thoughts behind that handsome but blank mask.

'Because, as I pointed out to Varric not hours previous, you two are our best friends.' Hawke's friendly and above all harmless sounding voice floated through the air of Varric's suite where they had met each other this evening.

'And the fact I detest marriages didn't trigger the hint I'd like to be as far as possible from such happenings?'

Hawke shrugged nonchalantly. 'We've committed the crime already. Obviously.' Again she flashed that insufferable smile. 'So, rest assured, you won't be an accomplice. Or do more damage than already is done. We just want to make it really official. Official in extremis, if you will.' The smile started to work on Isabela's nerves; it seemed to have a life on its own.

Varric, who observed the scene from a little distance, thought the same. Just like this afternoon, that smile gave him the nasty feeling Hawke and Fenris had worked out some extreme payback. She looked too innocuous and the elf too stone-faced not to. And, adding to his distress, he had to keep an eye on a very out of character behaving mage, who had entered his suite not an hour before with an attitude as if he had murder on his mind. He could imagine, dwarf or not, it must feel like this when the Fade had turned upside-down and all kinds of sneaky demons were wandering around, trying to play tricks on vulnerable and susceptible minds of humans and elves.

'Just a little ceremony with the appropriate signatures, that's all,' explained Hawke amiably.

'What happened to the pretty dress and all the rituals?' the pirate asked, sceptically. She knew she just tried to postpone the inevitable and it irritated her. She felt powerless, not being able to avert whatever till now invisible doom would appear at the horizon, and that irritated her even more. And, to top it all, it could be she imagined things. Most probably was imagining things, thanks to Varric. She was getting as paranoid as he was. Damn. She tried to push all the eerie feelings aside and listen to what Hawke was saying. Her intentions could be as innocent as her expression, after all.

'Somewhat outdated, don't you agree?' Hawke was saying at the same moment. 'Too little too late, Fenris and I deem. I absolutely don't see the point of walking down some foresty aisle to the altar, or whatever equivalent the elves may have erected, in some nice-looking gown and holding a lovely bouquet of sweet smelling flowers while being married already. But don't stress, we will have a hell of a celebration afterwards. Or party is perhaps a better word. With lots of food and drinks. In fact, as many drinks as you can handle. So, what do you say?'

Anders, who had indeed entered the suite with an expression like a brewing thunderstorm, already opened his mouth to give some poisonous reaction. But he got silenced by a kick in the shin, compliments of Varric.

The dwarf wanted at all costs to prevent the mage from shouting out something like, Wake up, you morons! You aren't married at all! Probably at the top of his lungs. Or something equally disastrous that would spoil all the fun. Although the fun had already largely withered under his recent worries. And those worries had only increased when he saw Anders imbibing too many glasses of cheap whisky in a too short time. With a determined face as if he had to keep an end to a serious bargain. Not another one turned alcoholic, he pleaded silently. But he swiftly turned his attention to the subcutaneous battle fought between the two women present.

Isabela said nothing for quite a while but grudgingly came to the conclusion there was no way out, if she didn't want to hugely insult Hawke and Fenris and put their friendship at stake. With a strained smile she volunteered, 'Alright. It will be my pleasure.'

Relieved Varric stepped in and pushed a glass of rum into her hand. 'Well done, Rivaini,' he praised the pirate queen. 'I knew you could do it.' Just as Fenris, days earlier, he hadn't been looking forward to a catfight. Already too many glasses had found their pitiful end in his rooms, due to too many shocks and squabbles. He needed some peace and quiet to think the situation over. He was relieved to see Isabela take the bait of the alcohol, and the not-at-all-married couple take a seat. One problem left. But when he sneakily tried to move the glass of whisky out of Anders's reach, the mage practically growled at him.

'Leave it,' he bit with such force Varric almost felt the teeth clench into his hand. 'I will get drunk tonight and let Justice suffer the hangover.'

'Good luck with that,' the dwarf mumbled and sincerely hoped Anders would make it back to his clinic, so he wasn't forced to witness the outcome of that ridiculous and above all lousy idea.

Aveline couldn't believe her luck. Every precious moment was filled to the brim with silver linings, chirping robins, fluttering butterflies and soft singing violins. She could literally feel the heat Donnic's body radiated while he walked next to her through star sprinkled Hightown. She could certainly feel it in his hand, holding hers. Now and again she stole a quick glance, as if to make sure he was really there and this was not her imagination running wild. She had never seen him out of his uniform before and the civilian outfit he wore this evening, had almost come as a shock, even though it consisted only out of a pair of plain trousers and a simple, unadorned dark cotton shirt. But he looked fantastic in it.

The drinks he had promised her, had turned into a dinner in one of the more fancy restaurants in Hightown. And the afternoon had, without her noticing, continued into the evening and from there on stretched out to late at night.

After they had tidied her office, Donnic had gone to his room in the Barracks to change his outfit because, as he had put it, they were going out for drinks and not out on patrol. When he had left, she had started a feverish search for some suitable clothes, and in the end she had had to make do with a long, though rather stylish skirt and a bit too frivolous blouse she had to borrow from Brennan. Together with a pair of boots that didn't look like she was about to trample a bunch of Qunari. (Thank the Maker it turned out they had the same size.) For she had come to the staggering conclusion she didn't possess one decent piece of not uniform related attire herself. She had stuttered some implausible stupid excuse to Brennan she couldn't even remember right now, and she was pretty sure the guardswoman knew very well what it was all about, but had withheld from any comment because she was the Captain. Which hadn't helped. She had probably snickered behind her back and with good reasons too.

After that she had tried to scrub the awkwardness away, together with the ink that still stuck to her skin. Which was the reason her face shone pink like a newborn piglet when Donnic came to collect her. Too late she had realised she should have asked Brennan for some make-up, or perhaps for advise to do something daring with her hair. On the other hand, she probably hadn't survived the embarrassment. All her insecurity had melted away when she met Donnic's dazzling beam at the other side of the hastily opened door, and he had told her with bright honest eyes she looked lovely. She had stuttered some incoherent reply, feeling like a clumsy though very happy baboon. He had offered her his hand and she had floated down the Viscount's Way into Hightown, all the way to the little intimate restaurant he had selected for their first non-official meeting. Their first date.

She had hardly tasted anything of the food and wine, too occupied with convincing herself this was really happening. Now and again she had pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. But then Donnic had laid a hand on hers and had said, 'You don't know how many times I've wanted to ask you out.'

'Why didn't you?' Aveline asked with a quavering voice.

'You are the Captain,' he had explained with that special little smile that made her heart skip several beats. 'To be honest, I was afraid you would regard it as an offence from a subordinate.'

With a sudden flare of courage, and with the assistance of perhaps a little too much wine, Aveline had blurted, 'I hope you'll consider even bolder actions from now on.'

'Don't you worry about that,' Donnic had chortled. And immediately after he had proved his intensions by bending over the small table and brushing his lips against hers. The flare had turned into a blazing fire and the murmur of the other guests in the restaurant had drowned in the pounding of the blood in her ears. 'A good thing Hawke came along to give a push,' he had whispered.

He was right, of course. No matter how much she had been willing to strangle her friend, there was no denying that without Hawke's meddling, they would probably have circled around each other forever. And hadn't she been the one who had wanted to ask Hawke how to buy Donnic a drink? Even without exactly asking for her assistance, she had helped. Admittedly in a quite alternative way, but still.

And now they reached the door to her apartment in the Barracks.

'Nightcap?' Aveline asked with a somewhat throaty voice that, however, got compensated with a sweet smile. Sultry even, she hoped. She might despise the way Isabela acted, but sometimes, she grudgingly admitted, she could take lessons. And even not that grudgingly at this moment. Especially not with the reward not moments later.

'I'm aiming for more than that,' said Donnic huskily, right before he embraced her and let their mouths melt together.

And then he led her straight to heaven.

Let it suffice to say the nightcap became morning coffee.

Fenris was at loose end. Marian had left the house to dot the i's and cross the t's with the caterer who would organize the wedding buffet. She'd announced she would hop along Aveline afterwards to see how things had turn out with Donnic and to make sure the Captain would arrange some kind of Guard of Honour. 'She owes me that much,' she had cheekily said. And she had asked him to take care of the wine. 'You're the expert,' she had explained. 'Feel free to purchase any bottles you think we need.' But a quick inspection of the wine cellar had taught him that the stock was astonishing and didn't need any replenishment. Apparently Bodahn had taken care of it during his time as a steward. On second thought, it wouldn't surprise him if most of the bottles had been procured by Hawke's ancestors. Or better, by whatever stewards they had employed in those days. Her ancestors had been nobility; he couldn't image they'd visited the vintners themselves. And apart from the wine, he found dozens of bottles of whisky and cognac and other sophisticated fermented produce. A person could come down here and spend the rest of their life in happy oblivion. In the end he had selected the bottles he thought were appropriate for the occasion, and after that had wandered into boredom.

He had tried to help Bodahn in decorating the drawing room and polishing all the glasses and china and cutlery the dwarf thought necessary to bring out, but the steward had categorically refused his assistance. 'Don't you worry, Messere, my boy and I can manage,' he had stated, giving Fenris the impression that he in some way would insult the dwarf if he persisted. And so he had idly strolled through the house and had ended up in the library. But, he found out after he had at random picked a book from one of the many shelves, he couldn't find the rest to set his mind to reading.

He felt relieved when a knock came to the front door. Or rather, when someone was rattling the woodwork as if hell and damnation had broken out. 'I get it!' he yelled while he hastened to the hallway, afraid Bodahn would take care of that simple task as well. He opened the door and was quite amazed to come face to face with Sebastian. A flustered and muddled looking Sebastian. A seemingly completely out off balance Sebastian. In fact the Chantry brother had a glow about him he couldn't put his finger upon and a slightly wild look in his eyes he understood even less.

'I need,' Sebastian swallowed hard. 'I need to talk with you. Urgently.' He sounded strained.

'Why? What happened?' At once Fenris was getting anxious; he didn't trust Sebastian's flushed colour and strange expression. Obviously something had occurred and whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

'Can I come in?'

Fenris realised he was blocking the entrance and stepped aside. With a generous wave of his hand he said, 'Be my guest.' More than a little ashamed, he remembered Sebastian had been exposed to the crushing power of a horde of children, something he had set into motion himself, and that it could well be the Chantry brother had finally reached his breaking point. He felt a flash of guilt.

Sebastian more or less stumbled inside and immediately started pacing. Nervously he peeked into the parlour. 'Is Hawke at home?'

'No,' Fenris said. 'She isn't. Would you rather speak with her?' He was growing uneasy by the other male's behaviour. He hated to think this was his doing.

'No! No, I wouldn't,´Sebastian hastened to exclaim. ´On the contrary. To be honest, I´m glad she isn´t in. I´m not sure she would understand. Ehm. Would take it serious, I fear. Ehm. I mean, er ...´ He let out a deep groan, blew out some air, sucked it in again, and started anew. ´I'd like to talk with a friend. That is, I can consider you a friend, can't I?'

'Of course you can!' Fenris said with perhaps more emphasis than necessary. The feeling of guilt was now nagging at his conscience. With loud, colourful words.

Sebastian paced some more. Then he abruptly turned and blurted, 'I've slept with Merrill.'

At once Fenris stood petrified. He couldn't move a muscle, although he felt like he had just received a punch in the gut and all the wind was knocked out off his lungs. Frantically he searched for words, or any reaction at all. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound would come out. And all the while Sebastian persisted in pacing to and fro which began to work on his nerves. 'I must have misheard that,' he finally managed. 'Please tell me I've misheard that.'

But Sebastian shook his head. He gave him a weak smile. 'You didn't.'

So, no orphans making amok. No nervous breakdown afoot. No need for feelings of guilt. With that out off the way, anger raised its red-hot head. 'Why would you do such a thing?!'

Sebastian drew himself up to his full height and stated with feverish glistening eyes, 'Because I love her.'

Vehemently Fenris struggled to keep his self-control, and with all his might he tried not to pounce upon Sebastian to beat the sense back into him. He took a deep breath. 'Tell me what happened.'

He decided he could postpone committing homicide, or elficide, till after he had heard the whole story. The story better be good, mind you. Or at least plausible.

Is this a cliff-hanger? Well, sort of, I suppose.

I hope I caught the picture of a love-sick Aveline. At least it was much fun to write that part.

See you next time, and, as always, thanks so much for reading!