Another month had passed, and this was finally giving. Although Hawke's absence was always felt one way or another, Fenris's idea to get both Varric and Aveline out of their hermit holes had proved to be the most enterprising thing he'd ever done. The company he kept suddenly became much more entertaining and the action more exciting.

Varric and Fenris had all but perfected the art of 'good cop – bad cop' when selling the treasure, managing the Bone Pit and doing odd jobs. Varric had as elegant a way with his words as Fenris had with his death glares. Or, failing that, his ghost fists. The kid had a lot of potential, if only he didn't wear things that screamed 'I hate you all! I was a slave!'. Then again, Varric couldn't help but like a person who was so determined to be transparent. You'd think that left no mystery about them, but he found himself watching Fenris carefully for weeks trying the answer the question 'Is this mental illness or, in fact, incredibly healthy?'

As for Fenris and Aveline, they started out as fitness buddies and ended with a marvellous hunting weekend in the Vinmark forests. Aveline talked bittersweetly about her namesake, the first woman chevalier in the world. It hadn't been that long ago that women were banned from any kind of police, military and security services (not that the universities were that much better, unless it was a theology degree). It had barely even been 200 years and it still wasn't really 'normal'. Fenris sympathised since he wouldn't have been able to access that tournament either on account of his race. In fact, he was pretty sure even today elves were not allowed to join the Grand Tourney of the Free Marches.

Tevinter was grandfather to sexism and racism. Consequently, it didn't allow women nor elves in militaristic enterprises. Not many and not in the conventional sense, anyway. They were more like trained reservists that generally just served coffee. This is why he was so rare, so unique in Tevinter. This is also why Danarius looked like such a 'progressive' magister. No one had expected him to champion an elven slave. The cretin look of surprise on people's faces every time was as annoying as it was delightful, depending on the day.

But he felt very unsettled about the way Ser Aveline died, in the last battle of the Orlesian tournament, subdued and humiliated. He couldn't tell why, but he just felt a hollow, foreboding feeling.

Fenris told her about the many depictions of transvestite women in the fine arts he'd come across. How he admired them. Aveline still wasn't convinced he was a feminist. Then again, Fenris still wasn't convinced she wasn't a racist. Aveline the Chevalier may have been raised by elves, but that didn't make a Fereldan human 200 years later not racist. Somehow, sometime, something would give. Something the other was blind to and took for granted. But they did their best to seek and impart wisdom, as per Fenris's self-appointed divine mission.

Anders noticed Fenris's recent amicable ties with the 'pigs', and started spending more and more time with Merrill and Isabela talking shit about him. They didn't really mind. As far as he was concerned, he had extended Fenris one or two olive branches to make a connection and he had pissed all over them. If he wanted to be a political enemy, then he could be a political enemy. He could go suck off the pigs. At least his mouth would be occupied.

Merrill didn't feel as strongly as Anders, but no matter, because Fenris was a busy man. He was slowly but surely building up additional annotated portfolios of animosity towards the Dalish and the Ancient Elves, and that was where it hurt Merrill more. She had tried to form a connection based on their ancient heritage, but Fenris was vehemently opposed to an alliance on those grounds. To her, he was the flattest ear in town. To him, she was a walking stereotype.

As for Isabela, she continued her quest to get him into bed, but she was starting to become lazy about it. She had other things to worry about…

Afternoon, The Hanged Man

President Varric called an all-members meeting in his chambers. He didn't do meetings, so this must have been either very good or very, very bad.

"Glad to see you all here, and so civilised for once."

"Give it five more minutes," Anders said.

Finally, it made sense why Aveline was standing. "Oh, no you won't. I will have order."

"Yes, m'am," Anders said, a little resentment in his tone.

Fenris didn't hold back his condescending grin.

"Okay, so first things first, I'd like to congratulate you all. This month's financials came in and we're finally back on a steady profit."

"Here, here!" they said gleefully.

"Not that Fenris and Anders need it, because we're almost sold out now and these guys are swimming in cash, aren't ya?" Varric said, urging for another cheer.

"Here, here…" the others said a little more begrudgingly.

"To be clear, I'm putting it all back into my clinic," Anders said.

People looked at the next philanthrope.

"I'm putting it all into none-of-your-business," Fenris said with crossed arms.

"Smart," Anders said. "Can't log in bribes to the pigs."

Aveline carefully removed her gauntlet and slapped him over the back of the head.

"And so, it begins…" Anders said, rubbing his head.

"I'm gonna keep Carver's share separate and let Hawke decide what to do with it," Varric said. "In the meantime, let's hope they're both fine and healthy wherever they are."

"Here, here…" they said, sadness indistinguishable from tiredness.

"Now for the main reason I brought you here," Varric said, straightening his cuffs. "Happy Kirkwall Independence Day!"

They all but Aveline looked at each other.

"You're not fresh off the boat anymore, people, put it your calendars…" he mumbled, clearing his throat. "Anyway, the Viscount's having a ball at the Keep and guess what? You're all invited!"

There was another pause reserved for tumbleweeds.

"Oh, come on, when do you get an opportunity like this?" Varric said.

"Never. I think that's the point," Anders said.

"Exactly," Varric said. "Now how about you tell it to your faces?"

"Why would the Viscount want us there?" Merrill asked. "I thought I was banned."

"You're just banned from the Gardens, Daisy, as are we all," Varric said amicably.

"Yes, that's how you say it," Fenris said to the confused people, who changed their emotion to annoyed.

"You're not even from here. How can you be a grammar fascist?" Anders said.

"At least I'm not a regular fascist," Fenris said, glaring at him.

"I'm the fascist?" Anders said, offended, almost standing up.

"Order will rule!" Aveline butted in, banging on the table.

Anders huffed and showed off Aveline, another example of how he wasn't the fascist.

Varric finished massaging his forehead and went on. "Anyway… you're invited because I'm invited, because Aveline's invited. The Wings of Chaos are officially helping the Guard keep guests safe tomorrow."

"Especially Leandra," Aveline clarified.

"So Aveline didn't actually invite us," Anders translated.

"I can teach you about hierarchies on our lunch break," Aveline said condescendingly.

"Tsk, tsk," Anders said, crossing his arms. "If Hawke could hear you now. What'd she say?"

"She'd thank me for the opportunity to get immigrants and people of other races in the game," Aveline said. "Unlike you, she looks at the big picture."

"Thank you for the opportunity, Aveline," Fenris said with a little smile.

Anders's eyes rolled to the back of his head.

"Does that mean I need to go shopping?" Isabela said, raising a finger.

"I have a tailor ready to take your measurements," Varric said.

"You can go to Wigs and Whore Paint on your own time," Aveline added.

"I thought you were keeping order, Madam Captain," Isabela said grumpily. Anders leaned on her and looked at Aveline with high, patient eyebrows.

Aveline looked at Varric for support, but he didn't make eye contact and just kept smiling a fake smile to no one in particular, wishing this nightmare of a meeting would be over.

"My apologies," Aveline said, crossing her arms. "Carry on."

"There's gonna be lots of foreign dignitaries there apart from the noble families of Kirkwall, so I'm gonna apologise in advance for the guaranteed racism," Varric went on towards Fenris and Merrill, then eyed Aveline.

"Why are you looking at me?" she said.

"Nothing, it'd just be nice if Kirkwall presented a unified front against that kind of behaviour, Captain," Varric said.

Aveline looked down with a tail between her legs. "I'll tell my staff."

"How do I know people are being racist to me?" Merrill asked innocently.

Fenris looked at her with crossed arms. "How do you not know?"

"I grew up with the Dalish, remember? Now I live in the Alienage. It's not like I meet a lot of humans," she said.

"Oh, so that's why you didn't react when that guy called you knife-ear the other day," Fenris said, scratching his head.

"Is that why you got upset?" Merrill said.

"Who can tell?" Anders mumbled.

"Alright…" Fenris said brotherly, putting his hands on the table. "Look out for phrases like 'knife-ear', 'slant-ear', 'rabbit', 'doggy', 'rat', 'frolicker'… people mistaking you for a waiter or a cook or a cleaner… people outside of our group giving you orders or sending you on errands… people offering you pocket money to sleep with them…" The table already looked uncomfortable with the blatant explanations, but he didn't care. This was necessary. "I sincerely doubt there will be Tevinters there, but Antivans share a language base, so watch out for variations of 'rattus'. And you're Dalish, so it could be anything from wood nymph to halla-rider."

"That's a lot to remember…" Merrill said, her face descending into depression. "What about you, Varric?"

"Don't worry about me, Daisy. Humans are less likely to offend dwarves," Varric said fatherly.

"How come?" Merrill said.

"Too many contracts with us. They'd risk losing alliances," Varric said.

"Meanwhile, they've got nothing to lose offending us," Fenris grumbled.

Merrill looked down and let out a big sigh. "Maybe I shouldn't go this ball, then. It sounds awful."

"No, you have to come," Fenris insisted, to everyone's surprise. He sighed and looked at her. "I'll be there with you, okay? I won't be having any of that."

"Try not to start a duel, please," Varric said, also eyeing a pouting Isabela.

"Absolutely no duels," Aveline clarified.

"Will the Knight-Commander be there?" Anders asked with a fake smile.

"I'm sure she'll make an appearance… however briefly," Aveline said. There was a slight tiredness to her voice, but her tone was happier at the end. "So, prepare your daggers and bows. No staves, no spells, no inkling of any magic, got it?"

"What if there's a terrorist attack?" Anders said.

"If you can hide a staff up your colon, I invite you to try," Aveline said.

Fenris let his head down laughing.

"Cool. I think we're done here. Any other business?" Varric said, containing his impatience.

"Yes," Fenris said, which made everyone hate him. "I'd like to make a sexual harassment complaint."

"You're joking," Isabela said, crossing her arms.

"Oh, I'm all kinds of serious," Fenris said calmly.

Some people politely excused themselves. Varric looked at them with sheer envy.

"Okay, Rivaini, stop harassing the elf," he said, hoping this would be enough.

"I'm not harassing anyone," Isabela maintained.

"Oh, please," Fenris said irately. "It's been six months of constant sex jokes and numerous propositions. You wouldn't like it if a man was doing that to you."

"Depends how attractive he was," Isabela joked.

Fenris narrowed his eyes as if to call her a hypocrite. "I rest my case," he said, slouching back in his seat.

"It's a pretty solid case," Aveline said to Varric.

"Fine," the dwarf said. "Isabela, stop it or I'm docking your pay."

"Fine," Isabela said begrudgingly, and left without another word.

Varric sighed heavily. "Where'd you come up with that, anyway?" he asked Fenris.

Aveline smirked. "Where do you think?" she said innocently, leaving.

Fenris smiled gratefully after her.

"Wonderful," Varric said, sighing again. "Now for the real deal."

"The real deal?" Fenris said, a little worried.

"I've got some personal business and you'll help me with it."

"Lovely. Who am I scaring now?"

"Hm. I wouldn't say scare. Not unless he's into it."

Fenris frowned.

"There's this Antivan guy that stole from me," the dwarf explained. "Alfonso Primavera. He took an amulet of mine that contains a rune of accuracy. This is what it should look like." He gave him a funny doodle of an amulet and a man.

"Did one of your nephews draw this?" Fenris said.

"No, I drew it," Varric said, offended.

"Sorry," he said, putting it down. "So, what do you need me to do?"

"Just keep him talking," Varric said. "He's also in the spirits business. I heard he's in charge of the gift offerings on behalf of an Antivan prince who couldn't attend. Funny thing—I always wanted to know how Antivan Brandy tastes like."

"So, you want to steal from him."

"I wanna make some justice," Varric said. "My informant tells me the brandy caravan is going to be in the Gardens, so I'm gonna saunter there like I own the place and receive it on behalf of the Viscount."

"How are you going to manage that with Aveline around?" Fenris asked, amused.

"Do you really think she's gonna have time to watch me with you people around?" Varric said, smirking a little.

"Did you just use social justice to serve your own interests?" Fenris said, scowling.

"Hey, I'm not Hawke. I actually know how to play chess," Varric said.

Sunset, The Viscount's Keep

The winged chaos mercenaries waited for Varric outside, itching like crazy. He'd made them wear black ceremonial military tailcoats with way too many buttons and red horizontal embroideries. And a red hawke on the back.

Varric came arm-in-arm with Leandra, wearing the most obnoxious knuckle-bejewelled gloves.

"Look at you all, so dashing!" Lady Amell said. "I can't wait to introduce you to my friends!"

"Oh, I can't wait," Anders said with a fake smile.

"Oh, grow up," Isabela whispered grumpily. "It's more business for you."

"Nice try, they can see their own fancy doc—"

Fenris elbowed him as Aveline approached. She was wearing a military tailcoat too, but of Guard-approved colouring, and had given herself bangs.

"Don't you clean up good," she said to them. "Alright, people, let's go inside!"

"We'll catch up in a minute," Varric said, beckoning at Fenris.

As they left, Varric searched his pockets and took out a rose.

"How many times do I have to say I'm not gay?" Fenris said tiredly. It was the fourth time now.

"Don't flatter yourself, it's not for you," Varric said. "And by the way, the more times you say that to people, the more you seem like you have issues."

"I have no issues," Fenris protested. That people should know about.

Varric looked at him with high, unconvinced eyebrows. "Uh-huh."

"What's the rose for, then?" he asked impatiently.

"Just in case you need more distraction techniques."

"Are you trying to prostitute me, now?"

"No," Varric clarified. "I absolutely, one-hundred percent am not suggesting that. And have some respect! It's called sex work."

"I don't provide those services," Fenris said, giving him back the rose.

"Oh, come on, you don't have to do anything. You said it yourself humans just presume they can buy you into bed. Let the idiot presume."

"Do you know how racist you sound right now?" Fenris said with half-lidded eyes.

"As advertised," Varric said charmingly, giving him the rose and leaving.

I miss Hawke, Fenris thought.

"Captain," Fenris said, nodding at her.

"What's up?" Aveline said. She was hanging out by her lonesome as people danced and gossiped.

"Just checking in," he said, leaning on the wall next to her.

"Are people being nice to you?" she asked with concern.

"They all have this face… like they take a while to process an elf in fancy clothes," he said, looking down. "Nothing new for me, really."

"Is that all?" she said.

"Of course not," he said, staring at her.

"And Merrill?" she asked.

"Well, she's been called a rabbit twice and sent off to get refreshments once already, so," Fenris said, crossing his arms, "feelings were hurt. But it's okay. I'm very good hurting feelings too."

"I didn't realise how tedious and hurtful it must be for you day in and day out," Aveline admitted. "How do you get over it?"

"I don't, really," Fenris said. "But I prepare myself for it."

"I do that too sometimes," she said empathetically. "Unless I want to go insane."

"Like Hawke does?" he said, smirking.

"Basically," she said, amused.

"Well, Hawke doesn't suffer all the -isms herself, does she? And she prepares for her -isms as well. She can afford to extend her sympathies."

"What do you mean?"

"She hides her you-know-what, so she rarely hears opinions—"

"You think people talk about that only when there's one present? Here we are, talking about one."

"So, I suppose my theory that her profession shields her from sexism—"

"Also not a very sound theory, sir, unless you're also doing it for your -ism," she said, smirking.

"Well, I don't think that's the reason behind it, I just think it's one positive, if small, effect."

"Sure, I suppose people are less blatantly bigoted to a woman or an elf who look like they could beat you up. But I don't think it's for the right reasons. It's out of fear."

"Is that what you've gleaned as Captain?"

"Yes. And I'd like to change that."

"How?"

"I haven't figured it out yet. I'll let you know."

Varric was dancing with Leandra. Anders and Merrill hung out by a windowsill. Isabela had already disappeared somewhere. The hall was an explosion of expensive shit.

"Nice bangs, by the way," Fenris said. "But they're already messed up."

Aveline touched her hair, her face filling with disappointment. "Ugh, I knew this was a bad idea. I'm not a hair person."

"I can help," Fenris said, getting out a little comb out of his pocket belt.

Aveline chuckled. "What's that?"

"A… comb," he said, as if she was from another planet.

"A comb," she said, trying not to laugh.

"I think it's a beard comb."

"A beard—" She contained herself.

He took her by the chin and started brushing the bangs nicely and carefully.

She kept sniggering and messing his concentration. "What's so funny now?" he said irately.

"Nothing, nothing—it's just… it makes sense now. Why your hair is always on point."

"Did you think it just magically rearranged itself?"

"I suppose not." She smiled a little, trying to stand still for him. "I can see why she likes you."

"Why?" Fenris said, very concentrated.

"I don't know. You have a quality." She thought about it. "Wesley had it too. More sensitive, I suppose."

Hawke had said the same thing. It was truly strange. Danarius hated that about him and used it as an insult. He learned to take it as an insult. But these women said it as a compliment.

"Your husband, Wesley?" he said, still glued to the process. "Are you hitting on me, Captain?"

"No, no, I wouldn't want to add to your harassment headache," she said, rolling her eyes. "Moreover, I do not wish to end up in a ditch somewhere."

"There we go," he said, putting his comb back in his pocket. "You think Hawke's a jealous woman?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to find out."

"You won't have to find out."

"Why?" she said, disappointed and almost angry.

"I don't know, I—" he said, crossing his arms. "I don't think I'm good for anyone right now."

"Well, you have a point," she said. Now he seemed hurt. "What? You said it."

He smiled bitterly and sighed. "Good luck, Captain," he said, and left.

In the throne room, there was a magic show prepared by the Circle of Magi under Meredith's authority. The First Enchanter, along with other Senior Enchanters and a couple of token apprentices made fire and ice dragons and other sensational visuals.

"Ah, the annual two-hour freedom for the elitest of the elite," Anders said, leaning on a table next to Fenris.

"This is just a Tuesday in Tevinter," Fenris said, bored.

"Feels like there's a lot of space left in-between the two extremes for reasonable adjustments."

"But you don't want reasonable adjustments. You want the other extreme."

"I just want equal rights."

"I sincerely doubt you understand equality."

"Please, enlighten me, sage."

Fenris didn't want to fight this time. He didn't have the nerves for it what with other problems on his mind. But there was more. He thought that there was perhaps too much hurt between him, Anders and Merrill to have a proper conversation. If they were his Karasten, he needed to at least try to seek and impart wisdom. If he tried, and then failed, his conscience would be free.

"We all say 'equal', but it means different things to different people. It looks different, too. It only matters what the people in power think of as 'equal rights'."

"Oh, come on. Look at equality for women. It's on its way there, and I don't see women pervasively ruling every institution in the South."

"That's because women are equal to men, in essence. Inequalities were just created through centuries of patriarchy."

"You don't think it's the same for mages."

"No. Mages are more powerful than non-mages. People flock to more powerful people, empower them further. You just need wars and poverty in your society, and the people will come to you."

"But mages could help relieve these problems in society. Imagine if we could have free healing clinics in every city."

"You know, that would be wonderful. Truly. But no one will let you have free healing clinics here," Fenris said, very calmly. "Free mages or no. Trust me, I've crossed a whole continent. It will not happen just because mages are free. Tevinter has nothing near that. Regular doctors already can't do it here."

"Well, that's something we'll work on with time. We can't accomplish everything right way."

"But that's the problem, Anders. You need to work this out, bring this out before the freedom vote."

"Why?"

Fenris sighed. "Because our system is broken. Look at my race. It is oppressed to the core even here. You simply can't deny that. Power of capital, power of blood, and race, and social relations—these things are grandfathered in Tevinter and southern countries. One relies on slavery and one relies on mercantilism, but the end is the same. You would take away a massive market if mages were free. You could promise those things in your political campaign as a mage, but it would be an empty promise to a mass of hopeful and desperate people. You will find out once you're on a council, or if you're a regal heir, when someone makes you king, that the Powers That Be won't let you bring things like democracy, free healthcare, social housing, labour laws. Look at how tied King Alistair's hands are, as sympathetic as he is."

"That's because of the Chantry, though."

"You're right. The Chantry is a powerful institution, a cultural institution as well as a governing one. But it's his national government that castrates him too," Fenris said. "Governments and culture as a whole is just a systemic change that needs to takes place first. Otherwise, all you'll really accomplish is to start infusing magical blood into Southern monarchies, and with time, regular people will start being seen as disabled. You're a free healer. You know how bad it is for actual disabled people. Then the market slowly favours mages for jobs and creates massive unemployment, until eventually, it will be just like Tevinter. Mage supremacy, whether you like it or not. You have to think how you could really equalise the world beforehand when writing your little manifesto. So, if you really say you don't like Tevinter, that's something to think about."

Anders listened carefully. He seemed to go deep in thought. Merrill came next to Fenris and let out a loud sigh.

"Are you okay?" he said.

"I'm in the lead in Racism Bingo at least," she said, laughing.

"Really? Damn," he said. He still hadn't got propositioned to. But he knew it would probably come once Varric signalled him to distract the Antivan noble.

"This… this is just sad," Merrill said, crossing her arms. "I can't even have fun! And there's so much fun to have here."

"It'll sting less and less with time," Fenris said brotherly.

"I don't want to just get used to it!" Merrill whined. "I want to be treated with respect!"

"I'd like that too," Fenris said, looking at the elven servants.

"If we had our culture restored, if we could emancipate ourselves, we wouldn't have this sad world."

"I don't think emancipating ourselves through the Ancient Elves is the right way to do that."

"How can you say that? It's our heritage. Our history. Our culture. The only reason humans can treat us like dirt is because we don't have what the dwarves have. They still have their kingdom and their lyrium market. What do we have? Nothing!"

Fenris wondered if he had it in him to seek and impart more wisdom. He felt a little more for Merrill now that they were allied through the same struggle. He just couldn't accept her way at all.

"I empathise with what you're saying," he said, a little less calmly than with Anders. He was wearing out. But he tried to contain himself. "But I don't agree with your form of emancipation. It relies too heavily on the past, and not at all on our present or future. It draws too much from the 'we were great once' mentality. Tevinter is a dying empire, not at all the power it once was. They've got the same mentality in their political campaigning, and it always leads to more oppression and more stomping on abolition talks. It's just plain old fascism."

"I really doubt the Ancient Elves were fascists," she said, looking at him as if he were crazy.

"They don't have to be. You are, by calling upon their old glory as what we in the present should see as the core of our identity. I don't like that. But even so, I would not be at all surprised if the Ancient Elves were slavers and fascists. They're an ancient society, after all."

"You're being incendiary now to upset me."

"Look at these." Fenris drew up his sleeves and showed her his markings. "They looked Dalish to you, and not without cause. Tevinters aren't very clever. They just copy ancient cultures. They took everything from the Ancient Elves and put Tevinter lipstick on it. Don't you think my master didn't get inspired from the same thing?"

"Well, yes, now that you mention it."

"And now that we agree it's probably an Ancient Elven ritual, what do you think about it?"

"I think it's really fascinating."

"Good for you," Fenris said grumpily. "But do you think it's moral that they used to do this to people?"

"They shouldn't do it on people unless they're willing."

"But that's the problem, Merrill. The only way to find a willing participant to a dangerous, incredibly painful and likely fatal magical experiment is to either force them through slavery, or find a participant from an oppressed background who is desperate enough to risk everything for compensation. The truth is you're delusional if you think Ancient Elves didn't rely on the same shit Tevinter does. Your reverence of the past is too absolute and unbecoming. I want to live in a society with no slavery and no racism, and your old glory way necessitates them. It just turns around the teams."

"So, what, both teams are bad, no matter what?" Anders butted in.

Fenris laughed derisively. "You can never know you're on the good team. And you shouldn't rely on that assumption in your revolution. Thinking you're on the good team makes you feel less guilty of adopting the same means to your end as the bad team is using. You are always with the 'good guys', until the next act."

"So, you're just pissing on our every effort because the world will just turn out bad, anyway," Anders said.

"Find better methods, better ideals, and I might join your efforts," Fenris said, crossing his arms.

"Fine. Hawke's methods and ideals, then. What do you think about those?" Merrill said.

He took a while to think. He was getting tired. He'd never spoken this much with these people. And Hawke's methods and ideals were a whole other cornucopia to critique.

"I'm not convinced of her ways, but I admire her, I think," Fenris said pensively.

"How come?" Anders said, narrowing his eyes.

"I suppose her reasons are less wrong," Fenris said. He hadn't formed these thoughts before. Felt on the spot. He counted on his fingers. "She believes in feminism, mage rights, elven emancipation, peasant emancipation, queer pride, disabled pride, all that political carnival. An anti-colonialist and an abolitionist as far as I can see. But she hates all the -isms; isn't allied to any particular anti-ism, but to anti-isms as a whole. Her reasons go far past identity, to the core of being a mortal and the pure worth of that in it alone." He looked up towards the Kirkwall heraldry. "A Fereldan peasant jumped higher than I've ever seen anyone jump in ideals. She's not fighting with the humans or the Chantry, not really. She's fighting with the forces of the universe. And I like that in a woman."

He didn't even hear that last part in his head before he said it out loud. He cringed at himself and decided this was his cue to leave.

"Elgar'nan! I have the solution to our problems!" Merrill said excitedly.

"Make Hawke president of the universe?" Anders said condescendingly.

"No, no!" Merrill said, taking Fenris by the shoulder. He flinched, but there were way too many layers to feel something. "You could marry Hawke and be an example of elven excellence!"

Fenris broke into laughter. "No, thank you," he said, taking her hand away like it was covered in piss.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea, even if the image of you two makes me nauseated and will probably haunt my nightmares," Anders said, thinking. "She'll be a noble when she comes back. She could have more influence in this city."

"She can have all the influence she wants. I'm not marrying people for political reasons."

"Didn't you say you liked her?" Anders said, grimacing to himself.

"Not in that way," Fenris said. He was being casually prostituted tonight and pressured into political marriage. He fucking hated balls. "I need a drink. Catch you later."

An hour later, Varric finally signalled him to distract the Antivan. Fenris steeled himself and went to him, pretending he was a normal person. It was easy to keep him talking. He was like Danarius, just liked dominating the conversation and wasn't really listening. Fenris was barely listening himself. He gave him a series of monosyllabic responses, and brooded on his recent thoughts.

He too had that rebellious conviction of seeing past any authority. The difference from Hawke was that Fenris had a limit, and that was the Maker. He feared him. Tried to. There must be at least one master that you could never escape from, and he could be at peace if it was the Maker and not Danarius. At least the southern Maker was, in legend, an abolitionist.

Meanwhile he was being courted by the Qunari and perhaps could even be courted by the Orlesian Chantry if he sought wisdom there in his personal mission of enlightenment. He tried to remember Hawke telling him he was vulnerable enough in his trauma to seek the comfort of a different belief system to keep him in check. He wanted to believe he didn't need it, that he could construct his own. But he was just at the beginning.

He also thought about his admiration for her. Tried to understand it more. It wasn't really about politics. He admired her because she understood her own power, and kept it for when it was needed. She didn't posture or threaten with her magic like the others did. They thought she was just punishing herself for something, or was too embarrassed that she was shit at magic. He thought she was the most shameless person he'd met, and even if she was punishing herself somehow, she must have recognised her transgression and sought another path. But even that didn't satisfy his theory. He thought deeper. The reason people forgot she was a mage was not because she didn't use magic, but because she didn't feel the need to use it. She'd rather do things like everyone else, and she remembered how hard and limiting life was for most people. Isn't that why she could connect with someone like him as with someone like Anders?

Either way, talk was cheap. No, no. To want to be with someone, marry them even, they had to be one hell of a person. Only time would tell who Hawke was. It was too easy to think sweet abstract thoughts into feeling sweet abstracts nothings. He didn't want that cheap, pedestal fantasy. He wanted to be genuinely swayed. It remained to be seen if she really walked the walk, after she had power.

"What do you say, hm?" Alfonso demanded.

"Sorry, what?" Fenris said.

"Would you like to get out of here?" the Antivan said.

Fenris looked around for Varric. He had been in the window giving him the signal for a while now. Maybe he was a brooder.

"Sure, follow me," Fenris said, leading him to the Gardens. He made him go past a rose vine, turned his glow on, and attacked a pressure point behind his ear that put him to sleep. He took the amulet away and, yawning profusely, tossed it casually between his hands.

"What now?" Fenris said, throwing the amulet to Varric.

"Drag the guy to the cellar so it looks like he had too much to drink, then go back to the ballroom." He had a set of keys, and gave him one. "I'm gonna go get the brandy."

"He doesn't need a cellar to look it, believe me." He looked at the key. "Where did you get these?"

"Off Aveline. Why?"

He laughed. "Of course, you did."

"It's like you've just met me."

"Fenris, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you," Leandra said, approaching him in the throne room.

"Did you need something?"

Something in him changed in the throne room. He felt watched. More than usual.

"I wanted to say goodbye. I'm too tired to stand another one of the Comtesses's drunken rants." There was a peacock of a woman in the distance, whose voice reached Tantervale.

"Shall I escort you home, then?"

"No, no. I'm going with my friends. We'll have a little soiree for people our own age. You go have fun!"

"Alright, then. Have a pleasant evening."

He let out a big sigh, and scanned the room to find somewhere to drink. He hoped Varric wouldn't get into trouble. He was starting to grow on him.

And then time slowed down.

The crowd's noises mingled in his ears and the scenery blurred on the edges of his vision. Myriad of people walked past him, blotting out his focus. And then the moving bodies, the cacophonous voices and the ripples of laughter, they all quieted down as if there was no more sound in the world.

A human woman was standing tall and staring at him. A woman with only one red ponytail, an Orlesian black mask, and a black tailcoat and high-waisted trousers. The femininity in her masculine attire was outlined in a subtle and cunning manner.

Which only meant one thing.

Glued to her, he made his way through the crowd, trembling more with each step. She was just standing there with a smug look on her face. He got up to her and didn't even care for the awfully few inches between their faces.

"Will you honour me with this dance, serah?" she asked him, holding her hand out.

Fenris felt his heart pound louder and louder inside his chest, his throat, his ears. He took her hand and placed the other on her waist. He watched her in silence as she led the dance. He had no idea what he was doing, so he followed her moves. He wanted to scream. Scream. Where has she been? Why did the letters stopped coming? How could she think a surprise return was okay and not at all hurtful?

His patience wore thin and he couldn't bear the silence anymore.

"Haw—"

"Not here," she whispered, eyeing the Senechal and Lady Elegant dancing nearby.

Fine. He took the lead, and made them dance away from those two. She smiled through her mask that all-knowing, crazy smile. He felt he needed to give conduit to his anger somehow, so he suspended her in the air. For a second, he could see the fear in her eyes. That he was going to drop her. And it would have been the perfect moment to just drop her and storm off in triumph. But he didn't. He just enjoyed the fear building up in her eyes, holding her there.