Sunrise, Danarius' Mansion
When Fenris woke up, he realised he had slept the entire day and night. He had tried to get up and go to the market, since his stomach was aching, but his bones ached more, and they wouldn't budge.
It made sense, though, didn't it? He'd run for three years, with panic and stress in his blood. As soon as he found real shelter, he well and truly collapsed.
The problem was that Lord Panic and Lady Stress were old friends now, and they had worked hard to make a nice home inside his brain. They were here right now, with him, telling him he might not walk again. It had been hours.
Ah, and to think how sadistically happy he felt going into bed, hopping on the regal mattress, like a defiant slave, and no one could stop him. It felt like justice! It felt good. He was the lord of this house!
But second morning came, and the fantasy was ruined. He couldn't move, forced to look at the paintings and furniture that screamed Danarius. That's all it took and he was back there. Back in the leash, back on the floor, back being used like a puppet for his master's entertainment.
His eyes filled with shame, and his hands became wet as they covered his face.
"Hellooooooo?!" a voice came through the walls. It sounded like Hawke.
Panic. Stress. Shame.
"I'll be right down!" Fenris shouted. But that was probably a lie. He tried again, but couldn't get more than his torso up against the headboard.
...Venhedis!
More panic! More stress! So much shame!
Hawke was in the main hall, fiddling with a small naked sculpture. She found a blue porcelain bowl and tried it on as a hat.
"I changed my mind. Go away!" she heard him through the walls.
She slowly took her bowl off her head and asked suspiciously, "Everything okay?"
"Yes, I am fine. Please leave," the wall said.
"Okay! …" she shouted, but ascended the stairs.
"Don't you dare come in here!" the angry wall said, which stopped her.
"I am just leaving some food, okay?" she said, and left the bag at his bedroom door, slowly.
"... Okay!" the wall said, more gently.
"Okay, sorry to disturb!" he heard her say through the wall. The wall was doing a lot of work this morning, which made him hate it.
He held his forehead, breathing rapidly. "... Alright... thank you... very much... Bye bye"
"Bye bye," the wall said, sounding unconvinced.
Sunset, Danarius' Mansion
"Now, that should be a crime," Varric said to Hawke, as they saw the food bag still in front of his bedroom, going bad by the minute. He held the new food bag to his side protectively.
"Who's out there? I will kill you," the wall said threateningly.
"It's just us," Hawke said to the wall, who seemed to think about it. "Are you sure you're okay? We're a little worried."
Fenris heard someone else mumbling incoherently.
"Alright, Varric's a little worried; I'm extra worried," the wall corrected.
He was such a mess, and he knew this was going to happen. He cursed a thousand curses under his breath.
"There's... there's something wrong," Fenris tried to say. Maker, he had just discovered what it's like to be suicidally embarrassed.
Hawke looked at Varric.
"What, me?" he protested.
"I don't know! Maybe it's like... a guy thing," she said, nervously cringing.
"What, you think he wanked too hard at the delight of free real estate?" Varric said sarcastically.
"I did not wank too hard," the wall protested.
Hawke rubbed her forehead. "Can we come in? You sound like you need help." Then she whispered to Varric, "I totally would."
The wall said nothing.
"Alright, I'm outta here, this is too weird," Varric said, turning back.
Hawke dragged him back in a rush. "Don't you leave me here alone," she whispered aggressively.
"Fine..." the wall said finally.
"What does that even mean, your 'legs are dead'?" Varric said, still protecting the food bag.
"I mean..." Fenris said aggressively, "they refuse to move more than an inch. I've tried everything."
"Fuck," Hawke said, stunned. "And you just sat like this for two days?"
"No, one day," Fenris corrected, then his eyes shied away. "The other one I spent sleeping."
"Like for twenty-four hours?" Varric said in surprise.
Fenris looked at him. "Why did you bring him here?" he scolded Hawke.
"For protection," she blurted out, then immediately regretted it. "I mean... uh..."
"Oh, come on, let's not put lipstick on a pig here, you're a little scary, okay? And we didn't know what to expect," Varric said bluntly.
Fenris seemed hurt for a second, but eventually nodded in agreement. "Fair enough."
Hawke looked very nervous now, and went to grab the food out of Varric's hands. He was a little resistant.
"You must be starving," she said, sitting down at his bedside. She put some chicken in his lap, wrapped in tissues.
"Thanks," Fenris said shyly, and wolfed it down.
"So, what are we gonna do?" Varric asked Hawke, grabbing a chair and sitting next to the opposite bedside.
"Well, I'm useless now, so I will just die here," Fenris said flatly.
"Well, let's not get catastrophic, it's probably just exhaustion. Just give it another day," Varric said.
"Actually, I think I know what this is," Hawke said. "May I?" she said, pointing to his covered leg.
"I don't like being touched," Fenris said.
"Just over the blanket," Hawke offered amicably.
He reluctantly nodded. She pressed and rubbed her fingers on his lower thigh, and...
"Ah!" Fenris growled.
"Wowzah," she exclaimed. "Your muscles are hard as fuck."
"They should be, I run a great deal," Fenris said defensively.
"No, I mean, they're extremely contracted. Varric, come feel this."
"Great, more people touching me," Fenris lamented. "Arghhh!" he growled again.
"Andraste's ass, kid," Varric said as he briefly poked his leg. "That's... fucked up."
"You know how we were talking about shell shock the other day?" Hawke said. "That's shell shock. The physical edition."
"So, what, I'm just crippled? …. From sadness?" Fenris said coming up from his pillow, cringing.
"Oh shit, is that where 'crippling depression' comes from?" Varric said in a weird kind of awe.
"This is completely normal," Hawke said. "I had it too, when I—" she said, but something stopped her, "when the... Blight happened."
"Can you fix me?" Fenris said demandingly.
"I think I can, actually," she said, then made a silly, cringed face. "But you're not gonna like it."
"What is it?" Fenris demanded again.
"I bet it's magic," Varric said.
"Yeah, it's magic," Hawke said. "But not healing. That won't work here."
"You are not going to do blood magic on my legs," he said aggressively.
"No, not blood magic," she said, rolling her eyes. "Force magic."
They both frowned at her.
"I create a contained vibration that goes all the way down your feet. That should wake the legs up. It'll work!" she said enthusiastically.
"Oh yeah! I like that idea," Varric said.
"I'm not comfortable with this," Fenris intervened.
"I mean, we could always come back tomorrow... let you think about it," Hawke said.
"No!" Fenris said suddenly. "No, no more. I am done staring at this bastard's paintings," he said agitatedly, and looked at Hawke. "Fix it. Now."
"Okay, but I'll have to touch you again," Hawke said, standing up.
"Fine, whatever," Fenris said curtly.
"Er... yeah... I'll have to touch you like... kind of around here," she said, her hands looming in the air over his pelvis.
"Absolutely not," Fenris said.
"Believe me, I would rather be anywhere else right now," she said, "but if I start from your thighs, your lower back muscles will still not work, which you need for walking—"
"Well, start from my chest then," Fenris demanded.
"If I do that, you'll have a heart attack," Hawke said, and cringed apologetically. "So it's gotta be from the waist down."
"Oh shit," Varric said, chuckling. "Won't vibrations make him—"
"Get out," Fenris hissed to Varric.
The dwarf raised his palms in peace, and left.
"We will never speak of this again," Fenris said to Hawke, firmly.
"Never, ever, ever," she agreed, and tried to touch him.
He cowered away.
"It won't hurt," Hawke said patiently. "I promise. If it hurts, you can slap me or something. I bet you want to," she said and winked.
Fenris chuckled uncomfortably. "You're not entirely wrong." He sighed, and sunk his nails deep in the mattress. "Alright. Do it."
"Okay. Here we go."
She gently placed her hands over his blanketed tummy and ran them down, and—
"Ahhh, that's so odd," Fenris said in surprise, as tingling vibrations rippled through his thighs and calves, reviving his muscles. Then the feet woke up. Then the hands came back up.
"Told ya! It doesn't hu—"
"Oh," Fenris said, his eyes doubling. That gave him the weirdest erection.
Shame.
"What?" she said.
"Nothing, it's definitely working," he said rapidly, and tried to move his legs. "They work!" he exclaimed. "Oh Maker, they work!"
She stopped the spell and rubbed her hands clean. "Voila! Now let's try standing up."
He did get up. A little wobbly, but he was standing. He was so happy! Then he looked at her, happily, and saw where she was looking, and he died inside.
Shame.
She bit her lip on the inside, eyebrows risen, and tried very hard not to laugh.
He turned around rapidly and got back into bed. "Thank you, uhm..."
"No, no, that's fine," she said, walking backwards. "It's from the—"
"The spell," he said.
"Yup," she said, smiling and cringing. "So... I'll be going now..."
"Please," he said.
"And we won't be speaking for several weeks," she said smiling, already in the doorway.
That was an understatement. With him, it would take years.
She came out in the hall, where Varric was trying to pick out the bits of the old food plate that didn't go bad.
"You have a problem," Hawke said.
"Is it done? Did you fix him?" he said, standing up.
"Yeah," she said.
"Did he shit himself?" he whispered.
"No, no," she said.
"Ah, good, that would have been awkward as fuck," he said, and they started to go down the stairs.
"Mhm, very awkward," she said, trying hard not to think of the thing she saw in his trousers.
Sunrise, The Hanged Man
It had been several weeks, as expected, and quite productive ones. The money was piling up, she got herself some stompy new boots, and most importantly, they got the Grey Warden maps. And a bonus! A healer in the team! A very preachy healer, but whatever, he could have been a doomsday cultist for all she cared.
Hawke and Varric were anxiously sitting at the table, waiting for Anders. Carver came back from Isabela's chambers.
"You're right, she's sick," doctor Carver said firmly, and sat down at the table.
"You just had to double-check, mm?" Hawke said, sneering at him.
Some more time passed, and Hawke was getting very impatient. "I swear, if she can't come to Sundermount, then Aveline needs to call in sick or something and join us. She owes me."
"Relax, Rivaini's a tough girl," Varric said. "Plus, if she can't go, why not bring, you know... Happy Fists?"
"Who?" they both said, confused.
"The angry elf," Varric clarified. He shrugged. "I'm trying something."
"Oh, uh... no, no... he's sick," Hawke said.
"Oh, come on, he's not sick anymore," he pressed.
"No, you're right... I'm... sick," she said awkwardly.
"What? Do you have what she has?" Carver said, getting anxious.
"No, no... er... He uh... he makes me sick," Hawke drawled.
"Oh, right, 'cause of his... opinions," Varric said, a little generously. "Hey, you know, maybe he cooled down a bit after you helped him."
Hawke guffawed. "Yeah, I'm sure he loves me after that incident."
"Well, we can't be picky right now," Carver said. "You know what? I'll talk to him. Keep him occupied."
"What are you gonna talk about?" Hawke asked.
"I don't know... tattoos?" he said.
"Please don't show him your mabari. I think he might actually hurt you."
"Yeah, don't do that, Junior."
"Alright... then... women?" he offered.
She looked at him. "It's not enough he hates mages, you want to turn him into a misogynist too?"
"I'm not a misogynist," Carver said, a little hurt. "I let you lead," he offered an example.
"Oof, so close," Varric said, disappointed.
The Hanged Man door opened, and Hawke got up from her seat.
It was Fenris.
"Oh," she said, her shoulders sinking.
"A pleasure to see you too," Fenris said sarcastically.
"We're waiting for the healer. Isabela's sick," Varric explained, whispering.
"Oh, that's a shame," he said, sitting down. "I made myself ready to meet this Isabela."
"How?" Hawke asked suspiciously.
"Well, I was at the market yesterday, buying rope for my harpoons—"
"As one does on an ordinary Tuesday," Varric interrupted.
"They're for the mansion, in case of hunters," Fenris explained.
They gestured that now it made sense.
"—and the vendor said they were almost out of rope, because of the growing BDSM market," he continued.
"Phto-kay," Varric chuckled.
"And so I made her explain to me what it was, and I think I understand now."
"Poor woman," Hawke said.
"I just don't see how drab, dock-work grade rope is appealing in any... bedroom situation," Fenris said.
"Ah, our Izzy's a sailor, you see," Carver explained.
Fenris thought about it, and nodded that it made sense.
"Yeah, but... I agree with him, you know," Hawke intervened. "You'd need something nicer, a silky rope, and preferably black, so you can see all the zig zags."
Fenris' eyebrow rose as he thought about it. "Yes, I think I'd find that appealing."
Hawke's eyebrow also rose in understanding.
"Maker, what's taking this guy so long?" Carver said, exasperated.
"He probably overslept, you know, from writing his libertarian manifesto into the wee hours of the night," Varric said sarcastically.
"Libertarian manifesto?" Fenris said judgmentally.
"Oh, yeah, uh..." Varric said, leaning on Hawke. "Those two shouldn't be in the same room at the same time, right?"
"Probably not," she said.
"What? What is it? Does he want to 'free all the mages'?" Fenris said, a bit too condescendingly.
"If he does, will you promise to behave yourself?" Hawke said, smirking.
Fenris scowled nervously. "I can be perfectly civil," he said, leaning his arm behind the back of the chair and fiddling with the flowers on the table. "I'll just... give him directions to Tevinter," he said, ripping some petals off and flicking them away.
"This is gonna be a long day," Carver concluded.
Finally Anders came, following Aveline who brought him there. He didn't have time for pleasantries, which was comforting to know.
Hawke, however, pleaded with Aveline for her to stay for a drink. Tea. It's all innocent!
"Alright, alright," Aveline said, defeated, and took a chair. "But I need to get back to my post soon." She looked at the new person. "Who are you?"
"I'm Fenris," he said, and shook her hand firmly. "From Hawke's ear-piercing squees, I take it you're Aveline."
"You're Fenris?" she said, realised her mistake, and mumbled, "I mean, yes, you match the description."
"Oh?" Fenris said, looking at Hawke, a little vainly. "You've been talking about me?"
"Yes, I thought you two would have a lot to talk about, what with the armour and... the Templar loving," Hawke said.
Maker, my wish finally comes true. I'm gonna see Red beat the living shit out of him, Varric thought.
The truth was she had been talking Aveline's ear off about him. Mostly bad things.
"You love Templars?" Fenris asked her.
"I loved a Templar, my late husband," Aveline said. "I loved a man. A good man. More so in spite of his calling, I think."
"So you... don't like Templars?" he asked.
"Like with anything about the Chantry, it's complicated," she explained. "I'm not really an Andrastian."
"Nothing wrong with that," he said.
"Thank you," Hawke intervened happily. "There's nothing wrong with being an atheist."
"I don't think I'm an atheist," Fenris said.
"Really? You still believe that crap after what you've been subjected to?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"The Maker may exist. That doesn't mean I think he's a good Maker, or that I owe him anything."
Hawke nodded towards Varric approvingly.
"What?" Fenris said.
"Nothing," Hawke said innocently.
"Well, not nothing," Varric said, chuckling. "I mean, whenever religion comes up, you do get just a little bit crazy."
"I don't get crazy," Hawke said defensively.
"Ill-tempered, let's say," Aveline offered.
"Interesting," Fenris said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "You hate religious people."
"I'm very annoyed by them," Hawke corrected.
"And yet you lost your fuse with me for my... pet peeve," Fenris pressed arrogantly.
"Pet peeve?" she said, now actually annoyed. "The hatred of my people is not some quirky little personality trait, sorry to inform you."
"Your people?" he said, unconvinced. "And just who are these people?"
"Not Tevinter mages, if that's what you're trying to get at," she said.
"Southern mages then," Fenris said hubristically. "No... wait..." he mused, "you don't like Andrastians, so I'm guessing those mages aren't invited to your little fan club either."
"Oh, we're getting deep now," she said mockingly. "Didn't think you had another level."
"Am I wrong?" he said calmly.
She sighed, loudly. "It's so funny when bigots try to turn it around and cherry pick potential prejudices. That and equating 'dislike' to 'thinks they're all guilty by birthright of the world's evilest evil'."
"I never said all," Fenris corrected.
"Ass, you didn't even know me and you told my own brother that I'm a viper who will turn on people when they least expect just because I cold snapped a demon who would have killed you!"
"He said that?" Aveline asked, surprised.
"Yeah," Hawke said firmly, crossing her arms.
"Damn," Aveline said, and moved her chair an inch away from him.
"He was having a pretty bad day, though, weren't you?" Varric said generously.
"Pfftuh," Hawke protested, her palm facing up towards Fenris. "Don't make excuses for him. When you're super emotional, you say what you really think."
So she really wouldn't fuck him then, he thought. Oh well. He burned that bridge well before.
Anders came back down, and took Hawke's drink and finished it. They looked at him.
"I need another," he said, clearly bothered.
"What'd she do to the poor guy?" Varric wondered.
"Perhaps she showed him her itchy rope," Fenris offered.
"I think she showed him something itchy," Hawke said.
Aveline chuckled. "Definitely."
When Anders came back, Hawke lost her patience. "So? So? Did you fix her? Is she ready?"
The guy gulped down his drink, and shook his hand in the air. "Definitely not," he finally said.
"What was it then? Syphilis?" Aveline asked meanly.
"I'm not allowed to say, but," Anders drawled. "Almost as bad."
"Cancer?" Hawke asked, worried.
"Less bad," Anders said.
"Ah, I'm bored," she said childishly. "So I'm down a teammate. Lovely!". She started drawing circles on the table. "Hey... Aveline..."
"Not a chance," Aveline said, and got up.
"Oh, no, you can't do this to meee," Hawke lamented babyishly.
Carver sat up innocently. "I'm... gonna go... check on her. Oh, there it is, she's calling for me. Yep."
"You get back here this instant," she threatened.
Carver walked backwards up the stairs and gave her two thumbs up. "You've got Mr Fister and Mr Healer... you don't need me... you'll be fiiiiiine... Ok, bye bye now!"
Hawke face-planted the table.
Afternoon, En Route to Sundermount
Fenris did not like Anders. Nothing to do with the mage thing, yet, the subject had not come up. It was more to do with his personality. He seemed the kind of guy who liked yurts, and ponies, and... colourful bow ties.
And for what it's worth, he was playing nice. He kept his mouth shut. He learned his lesson. When the barking and shouting would come, and it was coming, he was not going to make the mistake again of firing the first shot.
Hawke was never going to let that go.
Speaking of whom, she and Anders seemed to have a lot of rapport, just talking and talking and talking. He rolled his eyes.
Plus, he had better things to do, anyway. He enjoyed the view of the countryside, and wondered what kind of carpet he should buy.
"Mr Fister," Varric suddenly chuckled to himself.
"Yes?" Fenris played along.
"How're the legs?" he asked.
"Satisfyingly functional."
"Glad to hear it." They walked alongside each other. "So the magic wasn't too bad then?"
"It was... fine," Fenris said, unsure. "I didn't hate it." The boner popped into his mind instantly, and he regretted it.
The truth was he was wondering at a way to recreate the effect himself. For scientific reasons, of course.
"That's good, that's good," Varric said amicably. "I was wondering if you were still having problems, and if I should lend you Rivaini's old crutches from when she had that sex accident."
"I don't want someone else's sex crutches," Fenris said.
"No, you have a point..." Varric said.
"Plus, I don't need them. If it ever happens again, I have the mage to help me."
"Yeah... I don't think she'll be that generous next time."
Why not? Did she tell the dwarf about his thi—the thing?
"And what makes you think that?"
"I don't know... Would you help her get out of bed if she talked shit about slaves?"
He thought about it. "Probably not."
All that empathy was bumming him out. And the two rainbow socialists in the front chit-chatting away about plants did not help. He felt like he needed to give a conduit to his scratch somehow.
They kept on walking. "I thought all dwarves had beards. Where's yours?"
"I misplaced it," Varric said sarcastically, "along with my sense of dwarven pride and my gold-plated noble caste pin."
"I thought maybe it fell onto your chest," Fenris shot back cheaply.
Varric guffawed mockingly. "The broody elf tells a joke!"
"I don't brood," Fenris said defensively.
"Friend, if your brooding were any more impressive, women would swoon as you passed. They'd have broody babies in your honour."
Clearly not all women, he thought.
"You're a very odd dwarf."
"And you thought I was joking about the pin."
They kept walking.
"So, where's your beard, elf?"
"Elves... don't grow beards."
"I thought you shaved it off in a fit of broody peak."
"I can't win with you, can I?" Fenris went on.
"Only if we're gambling, and not even then, maybe."
"I'm not brooding, I'm trying to respect her wishes so I'm keeping a distance. I think you should give me some credit for that, instead of... whatever you're doing."
"Alright... you know what?" Varric said, changing tone. "I didn't think of it that way. You keep it up, and I'll buy you a cookie when we make a stop for the night."
"Thanks?" Fenris said.
Before sunset, The Sunken Orlesian
"Well... this is going to be fun…" Hawke said sarcastically, looking at the only room available with two rusty old beds.
"I admire your optimism, Chuckles, but this is not goin' to be fun," Varric said while touching a dead plant and it falling apart in the next second.
"Being with mages in here for the night does make me feel claustrophobic," Fenris uttered grumpily.
Ah, so close. He didn't even see that thought before it slipped out.
"And now the feeling is going to be mutual," Anders said with a fake smile.
"You're not getting a cookie," Varric said, patting him on the back.
Damn, he actually kind of wanted that cookie.
Sunset, The Sunken Orlesian
So, there was a free table on the terrace. Hawke sat down with her back against the railing. Varric was going to sit down next to her, but Fenris quite brazenly stole his chair. He was not going to sit next to that guy. The dwarf grimaced and took the chair next to him. Anders came last with the drinks and seemed relieved.
The formation was done.
"So, uh, how's the clinic?" Varric offered. "Are they missing you back in Kirkwall?"
"Actually, I closed it temporarily," Anders said. "It's really bothering me. There's a homeless woman I've started treating, and she's quite vulnerable. And then there's a kid with spina bifida that needs constant treatments—"
"Oh, yeah, Fred," Hawke enthused. "That boy is so adorable and so funny. He made this joke about polar bears at a party breaking the ice. It was so cute. Is he gonna be alright?"
"He's going to suffer, but he'll be okay. He has a very good mother."
"Yeah?" she said, seeming very invested in the subject. "What is she like?"
"I think you'd like her. She's very supportive. She's saving up to buy him a stuffed polar bear."
"What do they pay you in?" Fenris butted in.
"They don't," Anders said flatly.
Fenris seemed surprised. "That's quite admirable," he said.
Varric subtly moved a sliver of cake towards Fenris, who seemed more invested in the interview.
"Why did you close your practice then?" the elf said.
Anders sighed. "Because the Templars aren't fans of free healthcare," he said sarcastically.
"They're just doing their jobs," Fenris said.
"Maybe those jobs shouldn't exist," Anders retorted. "Maybe if the Chantry didn't spend all their coin on over-policing and golden statues of Andraste every year, they might actually be able to keep their promise of caring for the poor."
"Maybe we should be able to vote on that kind of thing," Hawke said.
"Vote?" Fenris said, as if it was a silly notion.
"Yes, Marchers vote their Viscounts in, albeit it's an elitist thing. But there's a push to extend the vote to all people. Why not have the same for the Chantry?"
"What's next? Give mages the right to vote?" Fenris said.
Varric slowly took his sliver back. Fenris didn't even notice.
"Any rights would be a start," Anders said.
"Oh, don't cry persecution at me," Fenris said dismissively. "Even slaves have some rights."
"Oh, yeah, slavery. You seem like the type to excuse it."
Hawke and Varric shared secret looks of cringiness.
"Actually, I was a slave," Fenris said, sneering.
Anders' eyebrows rose. "Really?" he said. "So you're not anymore? And tell me, why is that?"
"I don't need to bear my heart out to you, mage," Fenris said.
"I don't need to know your life story, but I would bet my own cat that your rights were not respected."
"Are anyone's rights respected on this planet?" Fenris said. "I've travelled far and wide in your human societies and there is not one place that doesn't systemically violate them."
"So that's it? The world is horrible, kids, let's just give up?" Anders said sarcastically. "If everyone here had your mindset, we'd still be slaves to Tevinter."
"It is what it is, mage. There's no use crying about it," Fenris said.
"It's easy for you to say. You're not the one being hunted in this country," Anders said.
Varric and Hawke cringed again.
Fenris tilted his head at him condescendingly. "You have no idea how much I've been hunted. I could run as far as the Arbour Wilds, and it still would not change the fact that I'm my master's property."
"Isn't that terrible?" Anders protested. "I mean, isn't that just absolutely horrific that you can't escape your birthright even in freedom? I mean, is that even freedom?"
"I agree. It is revolting," Fenris said aggressively. "But I cannot change that society. There is never going to be a vote for the elven Tevinter diaspora."
"So, you gave up," Anders said flatly, which angered him. "You just cower in the dark and complain."
"No," Fenris said confidently. "Let him come," he growled, widening his posture. "I'm not one to hide."
"Yeah, he took over the guy's summer estate," Varric said.
"Cowering and complaining seems more like your style," Fenris said to Anders.
The mage looked at Hawke, who shrugged in abstinence.
"I stand corrected," Anders said, surprised. He continued to look at Hawke, squinting. "You have been suspiciously quiet tonight..."
"I..." Hawke said, shaking her head, "could not have got a word in edgewise, even if I wanted to."
"Another take would be nice," Fenris said, leering at Anders, "to make him shut up, if anything."
"I actually agree with the pig-lover," Anders said.
"Yeah, Chuckles, you say things now, please," Varric said desperately.
Hawke gave a big sigh, and put her drink down.
"Alright, fine. Here's what I think..." she said. "I think all of this... slavery, mage oppression, human supremacy..." she highlighted, waving towards Fenris, "...it all comes down to power. People want power over other people, and whoever gets to be on top this century will invest all that power into securing their position. And when there's competition and shame and resentment involved, there's an undeniable thrill in stamping on the helpless."
Both Anders and Fenris seemed to agree, and let her continue.
"So, in my opinion, the root of the problem is deeper than this hate that takes on many faces. The problem is deep in our own brains, in our culture, in the way we are taught to relate to other people. There will be no end to any of these ideologies when virtually all of them are based on the same framework of thought—of there is me, and there is you. There is me, and there is the other. There is me, whom I need to protect, and there is the other, whom I thus need to control. The problem is hierarchy as a concept, and the idea that it is inherent or necessary to the way we run our lives."
They frowned.
"That seems way too abstract," Fenris said.
"A thousand years ago the idea of a Circle was too abstract, and yet..."
"So, what's your solution then?" Anders asked curiously.
"My solution?" Hawke said, looking up at the stars. She pouted and shook her head. "My solution is to evolve to a different type of thinking, everywhere, on everything. Get rid of all the hierarchies, all the institutions, all of it, but not under the same principles, the same methods. Not by way of blood and war and genocide, which is inherently hierarchal. No. The people will decide this, together. Our children will look at us and be terrified at what we've wrought, and they will change the whole thing by changing our culture. So if you ever have kids, my suggestion is to be very kind, and patient, and curious, and teach them cooperation and equality from the start. Don't deny them things, don't shame them, don't call them stupid or weak or place your own wishes and expectations on them. Let them grow into who they are."
There was silence.
"Kumbaya, my Lord, kumbaya—" Varric started singing. "Kumbaya, my Lord, kumbaya..."
Hawke crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "That's my take."
"Your take is too idealistic," Fenris said. "That kind of world just wouldn't come to pass."
"On the contrary, I've lived in that world," Hawke said confidently. "Or at least something very close that."
"Where was this?" Anders asked, frowning.
"In Lothering," Hawke maintained. "Like, Ferelden is a filthy monarchy whose kings and queens never ever helped me, but I didn't live in Ferelden. I didn't have a title or riches or lands in a strict posessive sense. I lived in a commune. A completely self-governing commune who saw no king and no army and not even a mayor. Even our little Chantry couldn't have the upper say."
"Who protected you then?" Fenris said.
"We did," Hawke said. "We policed ourselves. Everyone did what they were good at, and everyone depended on each other. There was a wide level of trust that had to be maintained. We had to treat our animals right, otherwise the meat would be bad, and whoever we traded with knew exactly where to find us if we cheated them. We had to be there for each other through every birthday and funeral and drought and storm. Even the Chantry had to be actually helping, otherwise no one would come to their sermons. The problems started when a farmer, for instance, was doing very well, and bought out other farmers and hired them to be his servants. Then his land grew bigger, and his name held more weight, and he got a taste for it, and felt he deserved it, which in a way, he totally did. Then out of natural love for his children, he gave them what he never had. Then a generation or two passed, the heirs grew lavishly at a certain distance from others, and the only way they learned to relate to people was by hierarchy and possession. People think children are stupid, but they aren't; they see everything, way more than adults do. They watch their parents very closely and how they treat their servants, and how they treat them, and when they grow up, they conclude they must be better than other people, and other people deserve to be under them, and if you don't have this pyramidal network, then it must mean you failed."
"So, you're a populist then," Fenris said, squinting.
Hawke shrugged. "Sure."
"That sounds more like anarchism," Anders said.
Hawke shrugged again. "Sure, whatever."
"I still don't see how you can apply that to mages," Fenris pressed.
"It's a tough one, but it is possible," Hawke maintained. "My family hid their magic, but when the times were tough, we didn't sit by and let the crops die or the village to flood. No one needed to know." She came forward from her seat. "And you know how many people gave a shit about our magic when the darkspawn came? Zero. Zero people. Even the Templars didn't give a shit. It's all about working together, not apart."
"Kumbaya, my Lord, kumba—AW!"
Nighttime, The Sunken Orlesian
They went to bed, but Hawke couldn't sleep. Again.
Plus, Varric beat her to Anders' bed, and she wasn't all that happy sleeping next to someone who would potentially strangle her in her sleep.
She orchestrated some chairs into a makeshift lounge seat, and counted the stars.
She couldn't shake the feeling of sadness, talking so much about Lothering. She came so close to the wound, her whole body ached.
"Hey, kid," she heard Varric say from the door.
"Oh, hey Minstrel," she said sarcastically.
Varric took a chair from under her leg and sat down next to her.
"So... it could have been worse, right?" he mused.
"Well, we're not over yet," she lamented tiredly.
"Yeah, but, your stories seemed to really mess with their heads," he said. "In a good way, I mean. Toned them down for the night."
"I am pretty good at dealing with temper tantrums," she said, looking at the stars with longing and heartbreak.
"That's a good skill to have. Where'd you learn that?" he asked.
She inhaled deeply, clearly uncomfortable. She put her arm over her forehead. "I learned it from my mother."
"Oh, yeah, Sunshine," he said, thinking about her. "You three must have been a handful."
"Three handfuls, and a mouthy father, Maker rest his soul," she corrected, smiling a little.
"I'm surprised you used that phrase," he said.
"It's a cultural thing," she said, shrugging. "And his soul deserves rest. That's the important part."
"You never told me, though, how did he..." But he saw the way her face immediately contracted in pain, and didn't bother finishing the question.
"Not tonight, Varric," she said emotionally.
"Yeah, my bad," he agreed. He looked up at the sky. "So... good parents," he wondered. "What's that like?"
"It's good, it's... very good," she said. "They had their faults, and we will never see eye to eye on some things, but I think I got a pretty good deal."
"You must really miss your home," he said. "It hit me a little too late that you must be here, brooding about it."
"Yeah, you were correct," she said, depressed. "The Blight took... so much from me." She moved her arm from her forehead over her eyes. "It's like a part of me... no... a part of me died with it. I feel I'm never going to be whole again."
Varric thought about it, and put his arm around her shoulder. "It's okay to not be whole, Chuckles. I know some amazing people, all of them broken." Then he whispered in her ear, "And you're my favourite."
Hawke chuckled and cried. "Aww..." she whined. "What about Bianca?"
"She's amazing, too, but she's not here with me, is she?"
"And you're never going to tell me why."
"No, kid. Not even you can know this story."
"That's fair. I have some stories I will never ever tell."
"Are any of them funny or whimsical?"
"No."
"Eh, I'll be fine, then. Besides, I feel a great novel coming out of our adventure."
"But your novels are tragic."
"That's what makes a good story. People don't physically understand happy endings. When you dangle a happy ending in your story, readers get detached. They immerse in it, but they know it's safe, so they're not really all there with it. I like my readers to really live it."
"But if you have no hope, how can you truly live a story?"
"Hope is crucial, hope is everything. But you don't have to hope that everything will be okay. You can hope some things would be okay, and I give them that. The important thing is that even if the story ends badly, it's a wholesome story, worth living."
"So we should really live, then, even if we're fucked."
"Well, I am. I'm grateful for what's nice in my life. I hope I can make you feel the same. Although it seems like a hard task, you're quite the doomer sometimes."
"Maybe that's why I don't... entirely dislike Fenris," she said carefully.
"Really?" he enthused. "Alert the Chantry! She really takes in just about anyone!"
"But he's not just anyone," she protested, uncovering her face. "He's..." she said, thinking. "I don't know. He feels like an important lesson in my life."
"A lesson?" he said.
"In that I'm trying to look at the bright side of the... odium," she said, looking at the stars again. "He's alone. He's been all alone with this..." She paused for several seconds, pondering. "I have no idea what that's like. I've had... issues that I was all alone with, that nobody could understand. But I had people. Ugh..." she growled, massaging her head. "I spend a great deal of my time doing everything in my power not to think about ending up all alone. It scares me."
Varric nodded, thinking. "You're right. All alone..." he said, staring blanky, "that's kind of terrifying." He looked at her, trying to change the tone of conversation. "But hey, he's got us now, if he wants that. Maybe you're an important lesson for him too."
"Yeah, knowing when to shut up!" Hawke said sarcastically.
"That too!" Varric agreed.