Sunrise, Inside the Sunken Orlesian

The gentle rays of sunlight were darting through the window, swaying on their faces. One great branch was poking its way through the window. A purple-throated cuckooshrike visited.

The wind blew on Fenris' bangs, disturbing his forehead. He spent a great deal working on the best looking, yet least stimulating kind of forehead, so it bothered him.

He woke up.

He had grown too accustomed to a fancy bed in just a few weeks. His body ached.

He stretched, and remembered there was a person in bed with him. Hawke was sleeping in a weird position (that he felt the World should give him credit for not saying anything about!) because she looked like she was being possessed. Her arms were up against the headboard, her palms suspended in the air.

Then he died inside. His right arm was planked across her breasts. She was in a sweater. There was a bra. But his cheeks still grew red.

When he retracted it, it woke her up. He didn't know what to do with it. He wanted to leave... Why can't he? His leg was stuck under her leg. This brought some uncomfortable flashbacks.

Hawke opened one eye, and looked at him. "I lost," she said.

"I figured," Fenris said, still moving his arm awkwardly in the air. Finally, he discovered he could just place it on his chest. There we go. His other hand went to his bangs, unconsciously setting things back into their proper place.

"Ah, so it's not a wig. It really does move," she said sarcastically, opening the other eye.

He stopped.

Her arms fell into a jumble over her hair. Her nice, red hair. It was also messy, which made him want to arrange his hair again.

"Yes... it moves..." Fenris said, in both a grumpy and innocent tone.

She moved on her side, the bed vibrating, causing more flashbacks. "You're like a cute little porcupine," she said.

Fenris thought about it, and the hand was back in his hair. "I think I'm more strapping than a porcupine," he said, a little hurt.

"Alright, fine, like..." she said and looked up, noticing the bird in the tree. "Something like a black bird of paradise?" she said. "Is that more strapping?"

"Oh, yes, like a black sicklebill," he said, squinting and smirking. "Epimachus fastosus," he said slowly, nodding. "It means 'proud and equipped for battle'."

"It must be destiny!" she said sarcastically.

"You know," Fenris said, seeming passionately alert now. His index finger was ready for a teachable moment. "With birds of paradise, the males, who are the beautiful ones, work very, very... obsessively hard to impress a female. They've got to dance very intricate dances just right and the females judge them on this ruthlessly. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they don't impress them. The males just spend all of their free time practicing their dance."

How did he know that? He had no idea he knew that. Danarius hated birds. He killed pigeons for entertainment. But he vaguely remembered a time when they went to an opera house, where there were dancing birds of paradise accompanied by the orchestra. He remembered he was so moved by them he shed a tear. He didn't remember why he was so moved. He remembered being very angry about it at the same time.

He lost the thought.

"That's very interesting," she enthused. "So, really, they're the ones who need to look good? Not us?"

"Yes, they have to be breathtaking," he said, feeling good that his interest was shared.

"See, I don't know much about birds," she said, looking down. "That's the kind of thing you can explain to me all day." She looked back up.

Right. Only things he could safely assume she wouldn't know. Noted. Also, was that a... flirt? He wasn't sure. He kind of enjoyed that.

"That's really cool, though, I mean, obsession as a survival trait?" she went on. "That's... so beyond the pale."

"And yet it exists, in Seheron," he said.

"Is that where you're really from then?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, feeling uncomfortable. "I don't really like to talk about it."

"That's okay, you don't have to. What about the birds?" she said.

"I like birds," he said, looking fixedly at the one in the window. "That's a coracina."

"We call it a... cuckooshrike, I think," she said. "I don't know why. It doesn't really look like a cuckoo nor a shrike."

The sun came over their faces harder, making her squint. He was fine, his hand had been in his forehead since last century.

"I don't remember why I like birds," he said. He didn't want to say the whole truth, but a little lamentation was needed.

"Why do you have to remember?" she said, as if that wasn't necessary. "Why do you like birds now?"

Fenris looked at the cuckooshrike and thought about it.

"I don't know," he said, making eye contact with the grey bird. "I feel like I understand them, somehow."

"Well, you've been re-arranging your hair since I woke up, so..." she offered.

He sneered, but continued his tic all the same.

"Does that mean you're doing it for me?" she asked, giving him an evil smirk.

"No, no, I'm just getting it ready so I look good for the other young revolutionary," he said sarcastically, looking over her, smirking back.

She chuckled softly.

"I think I'm obsessed with my hair," he counter-offered.

"Nothing wrong with that," she said. "But have in mind, our hands always carry natural oils, so if you're messing with it all day, it gets greasy very fast."

He stopped one hair in the air, and gave her a side look. "If I can't explain armour to you, you can't explain hair to me."

"Fine," she said, sneering at him.

He kept smirking, and rolled on his side too. There was eye contact.

"Can I ask you something?" he said gently.

She felt weird. This was weird.

"What?" she said, contained.

"Can you..." he said, looked at her lips, "not tell those people about my bird thing? I don't want to be Bird Boy."

"Oh," she said, feeling like she could breathe again. "Yeah, alright."

"I think I prefer it when I'm nicknamed after a pervert," he said.

"But why?" she said, squinting and cringing. "How's bird worse than pervert? Is it 'cause you're a boy, so you can't like birds?"

He thought about it. "No, I don't care about that," he said. "I just don't think I'm quite there yet. Let the funny dwarf guess." He went on his back again and the hand went where it liked to go. "I'm sure you'll find it entertaining."

"Yeah, it has been fun," she admitted. "By the way, you have taken me to your bed," she said, looking real proud and smirky.

"It's not my bed," he said, smirking back, shaking his head. The hair didn't move.

"Ah, forgot. Details obsessed," she fired back.

"Plus," he said, giving a quick glance to the headboard. "The bed is not broken, so I have not done any taking."

"No, no, you're right, you'd need to be breaking.." she said, and went close to his ear, which petrified him, "INTO DANCE FIRST," she shouted, and started laughing into the pillow.

"You are such a clown," he said, massaging his headache.

"Who's dancing?" Varric mumbled as he woke up.

Hawke came up from the bed and dragged the sleepy Varric out to mock-dance with him, vociferating a waltz tune. They got a few takes in before Varric was bulldozed into the nightstand. He contained his pain.

"I'm gonna make you sound so fat," he said in revenge.

"Ah, well," she said, laughing.

Maybe he was brooding. Varric and Anders were fighting over what was healthy on the menu. Hawke went to the loo and was in there a long time. He was definitely brooding.

He went back to equip his armour parts. He opened the door, and froze. Fortunately, or unfortunately, she was in the middle of finishing buckling her belt of many pockets.

"Is it your turn now?" she mused.

"To dance or to change?" he asked, uncomfortably.

She winked, and the belt clicked.

He picked up the chest plate and fastened it.

She hit him on the back. "Well, that was fun, I'll call you." And left.

Morning, Dalish Camp

When the Keeper said she knew Hawke was coming because of the trees, Fenris thought this was the third mage now with a fetish for nature. He was afraid she would invite them all in a prayer circle or smoke a pipe. The next mage needed to be different, or he was going to start grinding his teeth.

When they met Merrill, he felt very mixed feelings.

"The Keeper didn't mention you were a mage," Hawke said very nervously, after the elf girl did blood magic. The spell reverberated and shook them.

"I imagine it's hard to give away something that nobody wants," Fenris said, while trying to hold Hawke steady.

Hawke gave him a look, and moved her arm away. "You know you can go now," she said meanly.

He pursed his lips. That's right, she thought.

"Why are you using blood magic, Merrill? We could have knocked this down together with three lyrium potions," Hawke said.

"Agreed," Anders said aggressively.

"Oh... you're both mages," Merrill said nervously. "I didn't know. You were clad like a warrior and you have a sword and... sorry, I shouldn't presume. Like I said, I haven't met humans before."

"That's... true, but you could have just asked," she said.

"Why do you have a sword? Are you an arcane warrior?" Merrill asked curiously. "The ancient elves did magical sparring, too! It's very powerful." She went on with the history lesson.

"No, no, nothing so fancy," Hawke said uncomfortably. "Compared to that I'm... probably just punishing myself."

There was an awkward silence.

"So, Daisy, what's living in tents like?" Varric came and walked with her.

Behind them, Hawke, Anders and Fenris kept a distance from each other, but not for long. They were brought together by the fear of what had just happened.

"This is not going anywhere pleasant," Fenris said.

"I'm with you on that," Anders said.

"I have to give this amulet back," Hawke protested.

"But why?" Fenris said.

"Because an even scarier mage is going to have my throat if I don't get this back to her," Hawke whispered aggressively.

"Why?" Anders asked, confused.

"When my sister died in the Wilds, everyone else was not too far from death," she told. "The horde was unstoppable and a dragon lady appeared and burned them all to the ground."

"You're making that up," Anders said.

"No, I'm really not," Hawke insisted.

"You were in the Wilds when this happened? You met the Witch of the Wilds?" Anders asked, flabbergasted.

"What is the Witch of the Wilds?" Fenris asked, a little worried now.

"A Chasind legend, a real powerful witch," Hawke said. "Not a legend, as it turns out."

So the fifth mage was a legendary witch. Perfect, Fenris thought. The Maker started him off with the mushiest mage in Thedas, then snowballed him into insanity.

At least in Tevinter everyone was registered.

They fought a group of demons and skeletons at the entrance of the graveyard, and Merrill had used blood magic again.

"Okay," Hawke reiterated nervously. "I'm really not comfortable with blood magic, Merrill. Can you please use something else?"

"She's one cut away from summoning demons!" Fenris protested.

"Demons are just Spirits, like Honour or Joy," Merrill said defensively. "It's not their fault they are what they are."

"Of course not, it's your fault they become demons," Anders protested.

"Ignore the tiger, not it's fault that it's going to eat you," Fenris countered sarcastically.

"You think a Joy spirit will help you kill people?" Hawke asked Merrill.

"Of course not," Anders said, cringing. "You force a Spirit to do something, it turns into a Demon. Just like with people," he said, giving Fenris a quick glance.

Well, he couldn't really disagree.

"Alright," Merrill conceded, kind of. "I will not use blood magic offensively."

"How generous," Fenris said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, are you using blood magic to talk to demons?" Anders asked suspiciously. "Or, my apologies, were they spirits first?"

Merrill felt very cornered, but she kept her ground. "That is my business. And what do you even know of spirits?"

"Hello? He's the healer," Hawke said.

"And I'm merged with a spirit!" Anders protested.

"I'm sorry... what?" Fenris stepped in.

Hawke closed her eyes in tension. "Okay, back to work, people!"

"You are an... abomination?" Fenris pressed.

"Yes, I am one with a Spirit of Justice," Anders said firmly. "If you could really call that an abomination."

"Well, what do you think you are, an angel?" Fenris said scoldingly.

Hawke came in between them and clapped her hands aggressively. "We can talk about this later," she growled. "I have a crazy ancient witch to break up with!"

"Probably not a good idea to shit talk an ancient witch in her, uh..." Varric said and looked at the filthy, old graveyard, "...house of worship."

Fenris flailed his arms in the air and then put his hands on his head. "I must be dreaming. I must be dreaming."

"Hey," she said, snapping her fingers in his face. "Focus! I need you."

He looked at her, defeated. "Fine," he said, and let his arms down.

"Let's roll."

The battle re-commenced. Merrill kept her promise and used something else. She created what looked like a mini black hole that sapped energy. Fenris went through it without noticing, and this really distracted him. The entropy was sucking out his lyrium, while the lyrium reacted and caused him pain.

Hawke tanked the arcane horror in Fenris' defense, and bashed into him. This peeled him away from the black hole's effects, regaining his focus. She stood in the black hole and taunted the abomination to come inside. It worked! Fenris killed it.

"Voila," she said, but the elf rushed towards Merrill.

He came right in her face. "What the hell was that?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" Merril said anxiously, defending her face.

Fenris grabbed her wrist and showed it to her. "Like you didn't mean to do this?"

Oh for fuck's sake, she had to tank him too. Hawke came between them, and slapped Fenris on the back of the head. "I'm pretty sure it was an honest mistake," she said.

"Why are you defending her?" Fenris protested.

"Because she's clearly a weird loner girl and has no proper fighting experience," Hawke retorted. "You, for instance, got in my way so many times when I first met you."

"Oh," Fenris said, massaging the back of his head. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, but see, this time we paired pretty well. It just takes time," she said. "Just give her a chance before you manhandle a little girl."

"I know this may not help my cause, but I'm turning eighteen, actually," Merrill said.

"Whoa," Hawke said, sizing her up. "Well, you're still young. Apologise, Fisty," she said, pointing at him.

There was a silence. Fenris crossed his arms.

"Okay, Merrill, apologise for the bad black hole," Hawke said.

"Sorry," she said shyly. "I really didn't aim for you."

Hawke looked at Fenris.

"Fine," he said, sighing. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I'm not sorry for anything I said, though."

"That's fine," Hawke said, sneering at him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an altar to molest."

"So, care to indulge my curiosity, Hawke?" Fenris said as they walked away from the Dalish camp.

"Yes?" she sighed.

"So, a blood mage, an abomination, and a millennium old witch."

"Are you going somewhere with this?" she said grumpily.

"I'm just wondering what your next choice of recruit will be. I'm thinking, let's go in another direction, be bold this time," he said sarcastically, half-hoping she would find it funny.

"Yeah, I know," she said. "And the Tevinter we brought in, I mean, talk about dull."

Fenris smirked. "He's good in a fight, though." She seemed to think about it. "...Right?"

"Have I made you feel insecure, Fenris?" she said calmly.

"Me? No," he said nervously.

Hawke sighed. "You're very good, Fenris. You're just not used to teamwork."

For some reason he felt that this wasn't true, and she was being unreasonable. "If you say so," he said, containing his emotions.

"But that can be easily fixed if we spend more time together," she said.

"Really? You want to spend time with me," he said, unconvinced.

Her jaw danced and her eyes squinted as she weighed the pros and cons. "You're not entirely terrible. Like this morning, you showed me you can be funny and kind of cute. If you can be more of that, and less, you know, Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!" she vociferated, like he was a ghost story.

"I'm... cute?" Fenris said uncomfortably.

"Super cute," Hawke teased him, and stuck her tongue out as she rubbed the air under his ornate chin.

He pursed his lips. "If you touch me, I'm going to become much less cute."

She gave a short chuckle. "Varric was right. I do take in just about anyone."

"You called for me, Chuckles?" Varric said, catching up with them.

"We were talking about you," Hawke said teasingly.

"And?" Varric said amicably. "What's the gossip?

"I was giving Fenris some BDSM tips you taught me," she said.

"Hawke, no one's supposed to know about us!" he said jokingly.

"Are you two together?" Fenris asked, confused.

"No!" they both said nervously, their jokes misfiring against them.

"Wait, why did you say it like that? What, am I not good enough for you?" Hawke protested.

"Hey, you said no so fast, it sounded like I was made of dung beetles!" Varric retorted.

"So... not together then. What happened? Did it not work out?" Fenris said mock-worried.

Hawke scoffed. Varric smirked. "No, no, she was devastated when I told her I'm not on the market."

She rubbed her forehead. "I'm never going to love again," she whined.

"Aww, don't worry, Chuckles," he said and took her by the waist. "There's love out there for you, too! I can just feel it. He's right down the corner."

"He?" she protested.

"She?" he offered.

Hawke shrugged unenthusiastically.

"Are you a lesbian?" Fenris said bluntly.

"I thought I was, but turns out, I'm not that cool," Hawke said grumpily.

"Bisexuals are cool, too," Varric protested.

"What is a... bisexual?" Fenris asked.

"Isabela will explain that, too," Varric said.

"Maker, no," Hawke said alarmingly. "Okay, a bisexual is a person who likes more than one gender."

"Oh," Fenris said. "In Tevinter, they are called unicorns."

"Why?" Hawke said, frowning.

"Because they do not exist," Fenris said. "In Tevinter," he added.

Hawke scoffed. "Of course, they do. We exist!"

"Boy, Tevinter sure wouldn't like you," Varric said to Hawke.

"They're not too crazy about homosexuals or transgender people either," Fenris said.

"Is there anything in Tevinter that's okay?" Varric asked. "You know, besides war, colonialism and slavery?"

Fenris thought about it. "Blood magic," he said. "Should I direct the new mage to my homeland?"

"I'm really worried about her," Hawke said. "She and I need to have a serious talk when we get to Kirkwall."

Fenris rubbed his forehead. "You worry about everyone," he said judgmentally.

"Yeah, you're a real worrier," Varric said as he chuckled at his own pun.

Hawke looked at him, and ignored it, which he thought was for the best.

"I'm sorry, Fenris. Would you prefer I was a ruthless dictator?" she said mockingly.

"I would prefer it if you were something that wouldn't get you shot in the head," Fenris retorted.

"Hey, I'd give my magic away before I give up my conscience," she said defensively. "Sadly, that is not possible."

Fenris looked at her and cringed. "What is wrong with you? Were your parents happy or... something?"

Hawke thought about it. Nomadism, abductions, and many, many fights over her came to mind. "They did their best," she said.

Fenris felt jealous in that moment. He couldn't remember anything, but he was pretty sure family life in Seheron wasn't peachy.

"Can you really call yourself a caring person if you become extremely aggressive when someone even touches your food?" Varric said.

"Hey, you need money, or a bodyguard, or therapy, I'm your gal, but don't go touching my plate if you want to keep your fingers."

"Noted," they both said, a little scared.

They walked.

"Speaking of rope, I wonder if I will find a nice little surprise when I get home," Fenris said.

"Did you finally go to the brothel?" Hawke said sarcastically.

"I meant the hunters," Fenris said. He was really tired of people not getting it.

"Oh, yeah, what do you even do in that gigantic house of yours?" Varric asked.

Fenris thought about it. He looked at Hawke. "Dance, of course."

"Really?" Varric asked enthusiastically.

"I run from room to room, choreographing routines," Fenris calmly went on. Hawke held back the sound, but she was secretly giving him a very amused face.

"You're actually joking!" Varric said. "Alert the Chantry!"

He smirked at her and said to the dwarf, "And you thought I was always serious."

Midnight, Danarius' Mansion

The flashbacks and sleepless nights Fenris had been dealing with did not come for him tonight. Someone else kept him up, brooding.

He had been going over the details of this last adventure, a bit obsessively. He thought about Hawke's lack of magic use, and her comments about giving her magic away, and her reactions to Merrill. He did not want to defend the blood mage, but on an ordinary day, even he would not have guessed that she was a mage. Was she punishing herself, or did she just suck at magic? Another part of him came to protest, saying he was looking too much for a deeper meaning. She clearly enjoyed melee combat; it was that simple.

Then he thought about the angry debate at the Sunken Orlesian, and how she disagreed with both him and Anders. Well, she certainly disagreed with Fenris more. But she had her own little utopia in her brain, and she made some valid points.

Finally, the last item on the brooding agenda, he thought about the conversation they had in bed. Haha, in bed, you want her in your bed, a childish part mocked him. He thought it was a refreshing change of tone between them, and that it felt kind of nice. He got to talk about birds, which he hadn't done in... forever. He vaguely remembered talking about the dancing birds with another slave after they got back from the opera house, but he couldn't remember how long ago that was.

And she was flirting, the childish part butted in. You flirted with another human being! How do you feel?

Fenris thought about it. He felt anxious and uncomfortable. She must have been toying with him. Why would anyone want to be with him? He didn't even enjoy his own company.

Maybe 'cause you're cute and funny, the child in him pressed again.

I am also bitter, and harsh, and emotionally unstable, Fenris thought.

And depressing, the child part said, thanks for that, by the way.

I'm sorry, Fenris thought. He really didn't want to be this way. It made him very upset whenever he thought about it. He had whimsy, too, but it was so hard for it to come out.

But she's also weird, and cool about it, and she's crazier than you are, the child protested.

She's just more in touch with her feelings, Fenris thought, a little too generously. In fact, when they met, she went through the whole palette of emotions in just a few hours. He could count one, maybe two emotions he had on a regular basis—fear and sadness.

And anger, the child part reminded him.

Okay, I have three emotions, Fenris thought. All bad, and unattractive. He was like a sad, grumpy old man who no one wanted but kept looking after because he was family. Then he thought of that unlikeable human, Gamlen, and shrunk away from the argument.

I think you should go for it, the child in him said enthusiastically. Be happy, talk birds, play games. What was that game called again?

B.D.S.M? Fenris thought, raising a saucy eyebrow. That is absolutely not for children. And he was far too traumatised to let someone even touch him. He looked behind towards the bed, and his anxiety came through the roof. This was not going to work. He needed to think about things that could actually happen, like what kind of carpet to buy.

Ugh, you are sad. I'm leaving, the child part said.

Fenris pursed his lips, and slowly nodded.

A few days later, Sunrise, Danarius' Mansion

Varric came by that morning, looking for Hawke.

"Why would Hawke even be here?" Fenris protested.

"I don't know, maybe your legs got fucked again," Varric said. "It was either that or you two got in another one of your 'debates'," he said mockingly, air quotes and everything.

"So, you thought you'd pay me a visit and see if you don't happen to walk over a corpse."

"Hey, don't judge me for being protective. It's not like you haven't thought about it, given your station."

"Given my station?" Fenris said, and tried to contain his emotions, visibly. "You know what would be really nice? If you would stop talking about me as if I were a deranged predator."

"Why?" Varric scoffed.

Fenris looked angry. "Because I am not."He rubbed his forehead. "I was a jerk to your friend, I'll give you that. But I'm no murderer."

Varric thought about it. "Does that mean I need to lose Mr Fister?"

Fenris thought about it. "Yes, yes it does."

"Aw, shucks," Varric said in annoyance. "Say, you play Wicked Grace? I could use a replacement for Hawke."

"One that can lose for a change, I suspect."

"Bah, you wound me," Varric gestured dramatically. "I play fair and square. Bianca wouldn't allow it any other way."

"The way you fondle your weapon is disturbing."

"Hey, I'm a perfect gentleman. In public. So, you coming or what?"

"Hm. Tempting. Forgive me one moment, I should check with Gwendoline first," Fenris said sarcastically, going for his sword.

"Holy Mother of green cheeses, you're joking again."

"I hope you're not that impressionable at Wicked Grace. You might end up regretting your choice of replacement."

Afternoon, The Hanged Man

"This is ridiculous. How do you do that?" Varric asked Fenris in amazement as he lost to him again.

"Beginner's luck," he said, smirking.

"Hmph. And here I thought I'd have some fun for a change without Hawke's stupid card tricks," Varric said putting his hand to his forehead.

"Have you really not seen her at all?" Fenris asked while carefully masking his concern.

"Like I said, I went by her house several times and her mother said every time that she was taking care of some errands, whatever that means."

"And it hasn't crossed your mind that she simply gave up leadership of this merry band?"

"Great Ancestors, no! If I know one thing about Hawke it's that she wouldn't give up the one good thing in her life."

Fenris raised an eyebrow, "One good thing? Us?"

"No, me," Varric said charmingly. "I'm the one who makes her laugh. I'm useful that way."

"I highly doubt that's the reason she constantly requires your presence."

"Ah, and there it is. You'll understand when you grow up a little more, kid," Varric said in a fatherly voice.

"Exactly how young do you think I am?" Fenris asked half-angrily.

"Seeing as you can't grow a beard right, I'd say young enough."

Fenris rubbed his forehead. "Again, elves do not grow beards."

"Alright, alright, noted," Varric said. "Besides, I wasn't meaning your age, as much as I was going for the obvious reality that you haven't had a friend your whole life," he said, shuffling the cards.

"Am I supposed to believe that you have? Seeing how much of a socialite you are, I sincerely doubt you actually bonded with anybody."

"You're right. I rarely have. But Hawke's not just anybody," Varric smiled while dealing the cards.

"So, this is not just a charming act to get into her good graces? To ensure she watches over your back in the expedition, that is."

"I think you've already noticed yourself she doesn't take preferences when it comes to watching over people's backs, kid."

"I was merely curious as to why you consider her a friend," Fenris asked nonchalantly, looking at his hand. He had no idea what any of the cards meant.

"Kid, I could write a book about all the reasons she's my friend. Actually, I'm already on it," Varric said and smiled.

"I see. Already capitalising on the circus act," Fenris said.

"You're no less a freak than she is and I'm not writing stories about you. But sure, who wouldn't be fascinated by her fierce bravery—"

"Going in Tevinter ambushes alone."

"Always there to help—"

"Getting overly involved in the affairs of others."

"Good looks—"

"Clown hair and childish pigtails—"

"Oh, I see what's going on here."

"Pardon?"

Varric laughed. "Nothing. Like I said, you'll understand when you grow up."

"Can't I simply take note now and save it as a memento for when I do, whatever that means?"

"Alright, kid. You see, when a boy reaaally likes a girl—"

"I can already tell this isn't going anywhere pleasant," Fenris said, frowning.

"I'm sorry, are you asexual or just a virgin?" Varric fired back, smirking.

Fenris thought about it, which was a mistake. Neither of those were good subjects, or in fact, labels to think about. After his escape, he had realised nothing he'd ever done was consensual, and he never had any interest in people. But that just led him to a deep wound he worked hard not to ever think about again.

"Aromantic," Fenris said.

"We'll see about that," Varric said, unconvinced. "Angel of Death. Show your hand."

He didn't even look at the last card he had drawn. Varric's comments made him feel too uncomfortable. He looked at the card. The Knight of Roses. He liked that card.

"Andraste's ass, how do you do it?!" Varric said angrily as Fenris leaned back in victory. "This is preposterous. Where's my lucky charm when I need it?"

"Isn't Bianca your lucky charm?"

"Bianca's my a lot of things when it comes to luck, but not at Wicked Grace lately. She seems corrupted by a certain... redhead. I swear Hawke mustn't have been bullshitting about her being a former blood mage seeking atonement."

Fenris stopped breathing, "What did you say?"

"Well, I just signed my funeral… Ugh, just please don't start glowing," Varric said while raising his palms in the air in sign of peace, "I was just kidding."

"But she did say that," Fenris said, striking a frown.

"She was just making fun of us for prying in her not-using-magic business. Don't go all insane and 'I told you so', okay? She's a good person," Varric muttered starting to frown himself.

"I suppose... that's true," Fenris said, feeling that unjustified guilt coming back to bite him.

"You suppose?" Varric raised an eyebrow. "Don't think no one's been listening to your constant mocking and barking, as annoying as it is. Hawke is nothing like the pictures you're painting. You're just a nihilist who needs a scapegoat."

"And she's not?" Fenris protested. "The Templars, the Chantry, monarchies, rich people, religious people, hierarchal parents—"

"Yeah, man, she's punching up 'the powers that be'," Varric said. "You're not in Tevinter, anymore, kid. You're just punching down."

"Punching down?" Fenris said angrily. "I can be in any country, I'm still an elf who should 'watch himself'. She crosses into Tevinter, she's given riches and influence. She just wasn't born in the right country."

"Really?" Varric said sarcastically.

"Well... no, she'd probably be a slave, but—"

"Okay, okay, this isn't the oppression olympics," Varric cut him. "Boy, you can really suck someone into an argument."

"Does it ever hurt to have a totally fresh perspective?" Fenris said angrily. He leaned back in his chair dejected. "I think you people don't realise how good you've got it here."

Varric looked at the poor kid and sighed. "Look, kid. I know you've been through worse than any of us at the hands of those mages, and we're here for you if you ever wanna talk about it or, I don't know, start fresh. But it's like you take it out on her, you know?"

"I'm not. I—"

"You might not be, but that's how it feels like and what it sounds like," Varric said, playing with the deck of cards. "Eh, it's just a whole lotta fuss over nothing."

"You don't seem to be assuming any side on this nothing, indeed."

"It's a lot of humans in skirts. I get them mixed up."

"I highly doubt that. The subject comes up all the time."

"Hmph. Tell me about it."

"And no opinion? One way or the other?"

"Opinions are like testicles. You kick them hard enough, doesn't matter how many you've got," Varric said, grinning. He put the deck of cards down and said, "Anyway, I'm all out of money. Same time tomorrow?"

"I'll consider it," Fenris said.

"Oh, you love it," Varric said, and went for the stairs. "If you—"

"You'll be the first one to know," Fenris said knightly.

Sunset, Hightown

A small link... he started to think deeper. Nobody had seen her at all except her mother, which meant she didn't want to be found and she had been in Lowtown at least once. Where would Hawke go to take care of her "errands" and feel at ease? She wanted to smell trees... But she wouldn't go to Sundermount now, not after all that happened there. It would be unwise for her to go anywhere outside the city alone, as well. Unless she took that annoying, unemployed mage to collect stupid plants together. Ugh.

He tensed up as he pictured Hawke walking down the wrong path with a possessed mage.

As he climbed the endless stairs in the dark towards Hightown, it hit him.

Sunset, Inside the Amell Estate

As Fenris came in, he almost got his bare foot crushed by a trap. Luckily for him, Varric's voice had made a habit of coming into his head. He had to give her credit for making sure no unwanted, particularly enslaving presence made their way in. He walked slowly inside, and saw the fireplace burning and an immobile figure sitting in one of the armchairs.

"Hawke?" he asked in a moderate tone, as he walked in an angle reasonable enough to let him see who was sitting there. The teal coat on their lap seemed awfully familiar. It was her, indeed, slumbering like the dead with her peaceful face and hair that couldn't get any redder from the light. He remained petrified, not knowing what to do next. Luckily, she started to move in her sleep and slowly opened her eyes. She flinched in surprise at the sight of the ghost that he was.

"Andraste's tits, Fenris, if I wanted to see your face every time I woke up I'd have asked you to marry me," Hawke said angrily.

"Now wouldn't that be the icing on the cake to a perfectly insane world I'm already living in," Fenris said calmly, taking a seat in the other armchair.

"Oh, it can go even crazier than that. I promised myself if I ever wanted to marry someone, I would be the one to propose," Hawke said in a serious voice.

"I will be on the lookout for kneeling and undying love confessions," Fenris said sarcastically.

They both remained quiet for a few seconds and looked at each other. She pinched her thigh under her coat to ensure she wasn't drunk in the Fade or something.

"So, why did I have the feeling you would be the one who'd figure out where I was hiding?"

"I was merely following your advice to crawl into a dark pit and die, and then," Fenris said sarcastically and gestured towards her, "look who decided to follow their own advice."

"I'm an inspiration to us all," Hawke said sarcastically.

"Evidently so," Fenris said calmly, looking at the fireplace.

"Did Varric send you?"

"Not precisely. He did come to the mansion looking for you. My effort was voluntary, however."

"Well, you found me. Time to go report back."

"I have the feeling you're not very eager for others to know of your whereabouts."

"You have feelings?"

"I'm certain this piece of news has come to you as most fortuitous."

"You're right, I want to be left alone," she said bitterly. Fenris raised an eyebrow and prepared to sit up and leave her. "Not now, Ghosty, in general, for the last few days."

"I thought Varric was supposed to give me the pet names," Fenris said.

"He's got competition," she said, and sighed. "Go ahead, ask your question before you implode and shatter my future home."

"I'd rather not pry," he said eyeing her shyly through his hair to see her raising an eyebrow, "more than I already do," he finished giving away a faint smile.

"You have my permission," she gestured chivalrously.

"Alright," he said, and slowly shrugged. "What's up?"

She frowned. "Oh, come on, that's your big question?"

"I prefer to slowly build up to the earth-shattering one."

"That's surprising. You usually go from zero to a hundred."

"I can be flexible."

"You are so not flexible. You're the kind of guy who grows roots wherever he sits."

"That's a job for the Archon. I usually run, if you haven't noticed."

"You're taking your sweet time running from here."

"Again, she deflects," he said.

She sighed. "I've been coming here to... clean up, as little as I can."

"Did you hide here out of a guilty conscience?" Fenris said bluntly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're restoring the mansion, a pretense to hide, no doubt," he insisted. She was preparing to deny. He quickly continued, "You are compensating for something. After all, it's your mother who wants the estate, not you," he said calmly and watched her immobile face leak anxiety. He looked at her through his white hair. "Am I wrong?"

"No, by all means, continue postulating your theory."

"Sadly, I don't have many leads to make a proper hypothesis."

"Then sadly, I'm not telling you."

He smirked. "Fair enough. Let's see," he started, assuming a detective-like posture. "You've only used magic twice since I've met you."

"So?" she said defensively.

"Then there's your brother accusing you of your sister's death. Not only that, there seem to be more, as you told him so aggressively that you kept every death with you, as I recall."

"Right. Go on," she said, trying not to scowl.

"Excusatio non petita, accusatio manifesta. A guilty conscience needs no accuser. The only question is, what do you feel guilty of?"

"And that is ultimately your earth-shattering question, I take it."

"Indeed," he said calmly, watching the flames.

"Well, you went from fifty to a hundred," she said, trying to give him some credit. "If I told you I don't know why I feel guilty, would you consider it enough to let this go?" she asked, giving away a ghost of sadness.

"Only if it is true."

"I doubt that's the reason," she said, crossing her arms and resting them on the coat on her lap. She started into the fireplace. She wasn't ready to face the tiger, but she could indulge him.

"I'm ... sorry?"

"I... made some mistakes," she said, nodding to herself. "Some things happened in my life I never planned for or even thought possible. It gave me a new purpose," she continued, staring into the flames. "Then the... Blight came, and ruined everything." She looked down, containing her emotions. "Then I ruined everything."

"Because you took the lead that day?" Fenris asked, remembering the conversation with Carver.

"That, too," Hawke said defeatedly. "Everything was already falling apart, then an ogre came."

"But it wasn't your fault. You couldn't have foreseen that—"

"No, it was my fault. Carver was right on the money," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. "I shouldn't have taken the lead that day. I was already weak and unstable from... a different fight. I was just... too much of a coward to admit it to myself."

"I cannot imagine what it must be like to lose a sibling," he said.

"Bethany was fucking awesome. Not like me. She'd walk into a room and bring sunshine every time. And she was smart... so goddamn smart. She had a personal bookcase. Whenever my dad came back from a merchant trip, he'd bring her sweets or shoes, and she'd be mad at him for weeks because she wanted books. She could have been a doctor or a scholar."

"Then I think I would have liked her," he said calmly.

Hawke grimaced. "She was a mage, too, you know?"

"At least you weren't alone in your struggles," he said, which surprised her. "I'm beginning to understand why your brother is such a—"

"Arsebiscuit, who is ultimately right?"

"Where was he when your sister was killed?"

"It doesn't matter. He's just a kid. I should have been better."

He eyed her hands as she gestured and quickly suspected another reason she crawled into a dark pit to hide.

"That fire... it's roaring quite impressively for the little wood that remains," Fenris said.

"Good eye," she said, smirking.

"So, you came here to practice your magic."

"After the Merrill incident, I started to worry about it, what if I do something stupid in combat. I'm so out of practice," she said uncomfortably. "It's really much harder than it looks."

"So, you really just don't like magic very much?"

"Well, yeah, I kinda suck at it," Hawke said. "There are baby wisps forming right now who have a bigger mana pool than I do. That's another thing about Bethany, she was great at the magic shit."

"You are a great fighter," Fenris protested.

"Thanks," she said, grimacing.

They both looked at the fireplace in silence. "I don't want your pity, you know," she said, hugging herself.

"Even if I did pity you, I'm the wrong person to give you validation."

"Because we're not so different, you and I? In the domain of not wanting pity, that is."

"Yes," Fenris said. "You will be okay," he said, betraying his earlier statement.

"Well, you're quite a special package, huh, Snowball?" she said, grinning.

"You're not so bad, yourself," he said, almost smiling, but stopping for the sake of saving face.

But it was too late. She was super enthusiastic. "Did the legendarily mage-despising Fenris just admit to not hating one?"

"I will deny any such allegations should I be questioned about it," he quickly said and smirked.

They rested in amicable silence, letting the roaring fire sing its song on the burning wood.