The Hanged Man wasn't hard to find. The decor was something of a giveaway. Fenris cautiously ventured inside, weaving his way through increasingly drunk patrons and the barmaids they were harassing. He was about to ask the bartender which suite he was looking for, but then he felt a light tap on his pauldron. He turned around, already knowing who it was. She looked up at him, face light pink.
"Was that ok? Did it hurt? I've been trying to get your attention, but it's so loud in here, I can't even hear myself," she called. She held the offending hand gingerly, like she wanted to scold it.
"You did no harm. I knew it was you."
"Good," she shouted, hand pressed to her temple. "Follow me." As she led him to the room, she kept glancing back at him, as though she was afraid he would lose her. Impulsively, he grabbed her hand. She stiffened in surprise. He immediately regretted it. He should have asked, should have gotten permission before touching her. He went to pull his hand back, but then he saw her face. Her eyes sparkled and the corners of her mouth turned up.
She was pleased. Before Fenris could process this, she gave his hand a light squeeze, and pulled him along with her to Varric's room. She was wearing only an archer's glove on her hand, and he wondered if his gauntlets were uncomfortable to hold. She flung open the door to an array of cheers. There was a very strange assortment of people inside. His hand slipped from hers, though not before he caught a sharp glance from the abomination.
"Everyone, this is Fenris," Hawke said with a grin. "Fenris, you already know Varric and Anders." The latter crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, while the former did a dramatic salute. "Over here we have Isabela, Merrill, and my sister Bethany." Two of the women had staves on their backs-the other had an impossible amount of piercings. He looked at Bethany, the girl Hawke had called her sister. She was taller than Hawke, with dark hair cropped to her scalp, and she had pale blue eyes. They didn't look too much alike, but enough to where he would guess they were related.
"Unfortunately, Aveline is busy ruining the lives of guardsmen and lawbreakers alike, and won't be here until later," said Hawke with a roll of her dark eyes. "It's likely for the best, though. Never train with Aveline first. I'm still sore from last time and it's been weeks…"
She, Varric, and Isabela set to moving the tables and chairs to one side of the room, and he found himself in conversation with Bethany and Merrill.
"We're terribly pleased to meet you," chirped Merrill happily.
"My sister has told me about you, it's good to put a face to the name." This surprised Fenris. He shifted uncomfortably as he fished for something to say.
"Only good things, I hope."
She smiled. "Only good things. We're glad to have you."
Finished with their task, Hawke and Isabela joined them, while Varric dragged a large bag to the center of the room.
"Training weapons," Hawke explained, and pulled them out. There were daggers and swords of various sizes, maces, axes, and warhammers. "Most of them are dulled steel, but we also have wooden ones, for those who don't understand that we are training," she glared at Isabela. Isabela gave her an innocent look.
"Kitten, I can't help it, my survival instincts kick in…"
"More like your competitive cheating spirit kicks in," Varric stage whispered. Fenris selected a greatsword with decent balance. The edges were blunted and dull, but he knew he could still do some damage with it. Isabela chose curved wooden daggers, and Hawke selected longer, straight daggers. Varric took out a mace. Merrill sifted through the weapons to find a wooden longsword and shield.
"Aveline's favorites," she sang. The mages all had only their staves with them. Fenris stiffened at the sight of them.
"We only do melee training in here," Hawke said, looking up at him reassuringly. "When we do train with magic, we do it out on the Wounded Coast. They're just here to analyze our strengths to see how they can best work with us, and to heal us when we knock heads too hard," she said with a wink to the abomination. "Anders likes to spar with just his staff against us sometimes because he's a crazy person, and Bethany joins in now and again, but we don't want to light the Hanged Man on fire. Though it might help sanitize it." She dodged an elbow jab from Varric.
There was a loud knock on the door. Isabela danced over to answer it, then gleefully announced, "Lady Man-Hands has arrived!" She moved aside to reveal Aveline, who let out a deep sigh.
"Sorry I'm late. Someone" her eyes narrowed on Isabela "messed with the patrol schedule. I've been sorting it out since lunch."
Isabela batted her eyelashes.
Aveline got her sword and shield from Merrill, giving it a good swing. "All right, then," she said with a devious look. "Who's starting?"
"Not you," blurted Hawke, Isabela, Anders, and Varric in unison. Bethany and Merrill had already retired to watch from the corner of the room, giggling.
"I wouldn't mind," said Anders, poorly veiling a hostile look to Fenris.
"Anders, I'll need you at your best if Isabela is going to throw a table at me again. Or me at the table," said Hawke. "I'll start. Then Bela and Aveline, and we can go from there. We mere mortals should break between, so maybe Bela and Aveline, Fenris and Aveline, and so on."
"I won't be fighting Varric?" Fenris said, half-smiling.
"I only fight Isabela-and only if she's beaten me at Wicked Grace recently," Varric said darkly, patting the mace with his hand.
"Do you see the hostility?" pouted Isabela. They dispersed to the edges of the room with Bethany and Merrill, leaving him and Hawke alone in the center. Hawke twirled her daggers in her hands and got into her aggressive stance. He felt nervous about fighting her-he had his full armor on and she seemed to be only wearing her leathers. She picked up on his discomfort.
"Don't worry. I'll try and go easy on you," she said with a wink and a grin. He found himself snorting, adjusting his grip on the greatsword.
"Aaaaaaand….go!" called Varric, who was writing suspiciously on a notepad. Hawke held her daggers in an X in front of her face. Interesting. She was waiting for him to take the first strike. He took a deep breath and brought down his sword, trying to be less forceful with his blows to avoid hurting her.
But she wasn't there.
He turned in surprise to find her behind him, blades coming to hit him on both sides of his ribs. He struck again, this time from reflex, nothing held back. But once again, she was gone, having rolled under him before the blade had come down. She smiled at him almost playfully, panting. He narrowed his eyes and brought the blade around him with a spin, hitting her before she could get out of the way. She hit the floor with a wheeze, then rolled backwards and onto her feet, leaping towards him with blades parallel. He tried to get his greatsword up in time, but she flung herself at him and caught him on the neck, taking him to the ground on top of her. He was on his back on her torso, with a dagger on either side of his throat.
"Yield yet?" she huffed, face flushed and sweaty. He jumped to his feet, her still clinging onto him like he knew she would, and he pulled her over his back by the wrists and threw her to the ground, straddling her with the blade to her pale throat. She had dropped one of her daggers when he took her wrist, but used the other one to strike his liver. He coughed, snatched the blade out of her hand, and threw it, still managing to stay on top of her despite her best efforts to throw him.
"You first," he murmured, face inches from hers. She relaxed with a sigh.
"I know when I'm beat."
The group erupted into cheers and applause. Fenris rolled off of Hawke to lay on his back beside her and catch her breath. She beamed at him, blood running from the corner of her mouth.
"I'm glad I'll be having you on my side," she chuckled. He frowned at her wound. "No need to get moody, Anders will fix me right up," she said with a laugh and a cough. She sat up and Anders got down on his knees next to her. He dabbed at the blood with a rag and put his hand on her arm, scanning her for injuries.
"Damn. Two broken ribs and a concussion," he sighed, then took her head in his hands and healed her.
"Mmm, much better," she breathed with a stretch. "Your turn, Fenris. I know I broke something," she said, propping her head on her hands. She nodded to the abomination, who came over to him. He did not touch him: he held his hands at least a foot from Fenris as he examined him.
"Concussion and broken collarbone," he decided. He quickly healed Fenris, still being careful not to touch him, and perhaps being less gentle than he was with Hawke. Fenris grunted his thanks, not breaking eye contact. Anders pulled Hawke to her feet as Fenris reached his.
"Thoughts, everyone?"
Isabela and Anders hounded Hawke about leaving her right flank open ("you always do it, no matter how many times we tell you not to"), Aveline praised Fenris on the speed with which he attacked, Varric dabbed an imaginary tear from his eye and said they both did beautifully, and Bethany taught Fenris all of Hawke's tells. Merrill had fallen asleep at some point during the fight, and remained curled in the corner, snoring audibly. Overall, they gave it an 8.6, the second highest score ever received (once Aveline had used the chandelier to hit Isabela).
As the others prepared for their rounds, he took his seat next to Varric. Hawke, as he'd maybe been hoping, plopped down on his other side, coloring returned to normal.
"You feeling all right? Did Anders miss anything?" she asked, her eyes serious.
"I am merely surprised," he said, eyebrow raising as he looked down at her.
"How so?"
"You are not a mage, and yet you manage to disappear," he smiled, unable to keep a straight face. She relaxed and chuckled quietly, leaning her head back against the wall.
"You should see me when I use my bombs. How do you move so quickly with that greatsword? It weighs almost as much as I do."
"I suppose we all have our talents," he said with a crooked grin. They watched as Isabela and Aveline circled each other, both grinning like wolves, waiting for Varric's unceremonial call. At some point, Hawke's side became lined up with his. He didn't know if he had moved or she had, though he knew he was definitely leaning on her a little, as she was on him. His bare skin only touched her leathers, but he felt warm in the drafty suite, and he felt her laugh in his ribs like it had been himself. Her hair brushed the side of his face when she turned to whisper some joke or anecdote to him as they saw Isabela break a chair over Aveline's head, and though it made his face buzz, he stayed as still as possible as he listened.
