I WANT to be a saint. I want to save souls by millions. I want to do good far and wide, if I can. I want to fight evil! I want my life-sized statue in every town square, I'm talking five foot six tall, red hair, hazel eyes –
Wait a second,
What are you doing here?
Oh, well, Hawke here. Remember me? Of course you do, you've been reading about me through my friends' eyes for quite a while now! I don't think you'll get to know me better by hearing me, though.
Well, the only thing that brought me here - the only decisive thing – is that I am utterly drunk, deeply besotted and I just can't take it anymore! I want you to know me, see the world through my eyes – although I won't paint a very accurate picture, let's be serious, I'm drunk out of my mind! But no matter. I want this to be love at first sight.
Behold: your hero for the duration, an overly sarcastic human who doesn't give two spitting coppers over people's opinions on her! Nope. I'm free and I'm self-made. Well, it's not a great result though – I'm tormented by guilt, I have a moral abhorrence for myself that never goes away! But it's all hidden deep down and I never let anyone see it.
I'm not going to tell you why!
Well, not until further on.
But think it over, what I'm trying to say.
Anyway, apparently I'm a leader, appointed suddenly and silently by others. Oh, it's not so bad. That is, if you can resist everyone spitting in your face when things don't go their way. People take out their frustrations on me all the time! You know why? I don't. I can only suspect it's because I appear strong and resistant and a bit bossy, so it's like I welcome criticism wherever I go! No, no one lashes out on the nice persons, they go for the mean, careless one that has something to say about anything.
I'm monstrously strong. No, not like a demon or an abomination. Perish the thought. I hate those blighted things. You can't imagine how many of them disturb me in my sleep and try to talk me into letting them possess me. They try giving me riddles to lure me into their games, because I love riddles. But no, I don't give in. To be honest, even if I were born in the Imperium and was taught that blood magic is ok, I still wouldn't do it. Why do the thing everyone else does? No. I consider myself a non-conformist.
Oh, but I still hate magic in all its senses. Kind of contradictory isn't it? I root for the little guy, sure, I'm a mage myself, but I'm a bit of a cynic, I think. I still assume innocence first, it's only natural. Hah! I think you're confused to no end! Fenris certainly is. Oh, it was so fun in the beginning. One second he screams at me like a little porcupine that wants his lollipop, calling me 'clown mage' , 'witch', 'troll', 'fasta efututo femina' and other names in his language. The next second he's nice, listens to me, gives me a sort of, I suspect, illusion that he understands me? Imagine his rage, as he started to realize I'm not so bad. I think he was angrier about that, rather than the simple fact that I was a mage. Imagine my rage, as I can't give him a proper answer to his questions anyway!
Am I unique? By no means. There are certainly lots of other mages like me who don't use their powers and train in the painful arts of the sword. I don't know any, but I'd really like to.
Go ahead, close this tab! Spit on me. Revile me. I dare you. Cast me out of your intellectual orbit. Delete this story from your bookmarks or unfollow it.
No. I don't want you to do all that.
Don't do that.
DON'T DO IT!
I want you to know my story. Understand it; maybe you can. Of course you can.
I'm having fun, aren't you? Somehow I got both Anders and Fenris to hate my guts. Neither of them agreed with me. They considered me deprived and crazy. They probably both thought I was a hypocrite from their side of view on mages. Hey, what can you do? I'm not taking sides. They don't know what they're talking about!
People like me usually die young, but somehow I managed to survive. Not in the way I wanted to, but it could be worse. If you live longer than my age like this, and some do, who knows? You'll get tougher, stronger, more resistant, or more monstrous. You'll know so much about suffering that you will go through rapid cycles of cruelty and kindness, insight and maniacal blindness. You'll probably go mad. Then you'll be sane again. Then you may forget who you are.
And that scares the shit out of me. With sprinkles and then some.
I don't want to use magic! But of course, the universe is little if at all known, apart from its extremely cruel sense of humor! Turns out I have to sometimes – and I have to train my powers for that. You know how annoying that is? Years and years of getting scratched, scarred, beaten, falling on the ground from the sword training and heavy armour, but no, I have to train in magic too. You know how difficult it is to try and concentrate on a single spell, because one wrong move can set the house on fire? My father gave up on it after a while, because I became insufferable - I know how to do that very well! But who can blame him. He didn't like it either. I think he felt some kind of relief.
But now I'm alone and I don't know what to do…
I'm going to take care of you in this chapter. So rest easy and read on. You won't be sorry. You think I don't want new readers? My name is thirst, baby. I must have you!
I'm kidding, I drank enough for tonight, I'm not thirsty anymore.
Yeah, I take care of everyone else in my group, but who's going to take care of me? I say I don't need help, but more because there's really no one who can help me in this little matter.
I don't know my present view of things. I like throwing fireballs from time to time – it's really entertaining and I PROMISE if I ever decide to swear off magic for good, the last thing I will use it for is to SET FENRIS'S ASS ON FIRE.
Oh, sure, he's my friend, I admitted it. Can't take it back now. But he gets me so mad sometimes. Not with the magic rant anymore, no, he started to cool off. For now…Well, don't be silly! Of course he's going to keep badgering me about it. But I think what grinds my gears about him is that he's so … Bah. What's the word? What's the nice word for it?
Independent. Little independent private Fenris. With his flat, unperturbed, dark look, that sometimes feels like he's stripping me with his mind. Who says two words like 'Good morning' and what he really means is 'It's not exactly good, but that's the appropriate salute as I understand. I am grumpy today, because I like water being wet, so I don't like things to change. I want to remain nonchalant and careless because I am a former slave. I don't want you touching me. Go away. But, well, you can stay… entertain me with your limited intelligence. I can still take pleasure in the small things.'
I don't even know what to make of him anymore! Sometimes he's nice, sometimes he turns into an irritating spiky hyena that won't shut up. Ah, what did I ever do to him?
But I digress, again, like the dwarves like to say.
So for some reason now he thinks it's nice to try and convince me to go home. What's he gonna do? Punch me unconscious and carry me to my room? He can never defeat me! Well… Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. I did overpower him on the beach, but I'm so drunk now.
I'm BESOTTED!
So let me set the scenery … We are in the Hanged Man, right? It looks like it. It certainly smells like it.
"Allow me to escort you back to your mansion," Fenris said knightly as he approached me.
Do I look like a prize cow for the royal prince? Or maybe a little defenceless princess whose high heels you will have to carry because I can't walk in them anymore.
"I'd rather stay here and boil over that asshole," I said nonchalantly, staring at the wall.
"You can boil over it on the way home," he said flatly. I didn't look at him.
"Oh, no, I wouldn't dare to be insolent and displace my anger onto you on the way back," I said sarcastically, since he has done it so many times I've lost count.
He chuckled because he understood my subtlety, "You can try. I'm not made out of glass."
"Well with that impending argument," I said sarcastically. "Who can say no to free badgering."
I went to Varric and bend down to hug him. I needed it. He seemed surprised but couldn't say no to that. He pat me on the back three times and told me to watch my ass. Asschabs, why did I have to say that. I wonder if he feels confused that he has to Bianca's to love. Oh, I hate that name. Forget. Forget. Forget.
I tried my best to walk out of the tavern without tripping, holding to every table while Fenris remained silent and looked at me as if were a gigantic statue of Andraste that was about to fall down on the poor zealots.
We got out of the tavern and I looked for the closest wall I could hold on to. I dangled for a few feet and rushed to the wall to climb the stairs. I could feel Fenris stopping behind me with his arms crossed and a smug grin.
"Tell me when you're done," he said nonchalantly.
"It's called swaying," I said half-heartedly.
"It's called tripping on your feet," he retorted and came next to me.
"Aren't you afraid I'll fireball you by accident?" I asked him while trying not to hic.
"You're a witch and a drunk," he said meanly, but with a short smile he couldn't hide even from my impaired vision.
"You love me," I said childishly while grimacing and almost tripped.
He caught me quickly and forcefully placed my arm around his shoulder, and putting another on my hip. "Oh, my feelings for you go beyond cosmic proportions," he said sarcastically and proceeded to walk me forward.
Even in my drunkenness, I was scared out of my pants. Somehow I never managed to accidentally touch him on his markings or well, anything. Even now, I was holding onto his covered shoulder and tried to think of a good way to just run for the hills.
"Oh, I know I'm a bit high-maintenance but you're no better than me, Sir," I said in entertainment and realized I could barely hear myself. Everything sounded like out of a barrel.
"I did not advertise myself as otherwise," Fenris said flatly, squeezing my wrist up on his shoulder again since I was slipping.
"Well, it seems to me tha-
He pushed me away strongly and got out his sword. There was a group of lovely gentlemen in which he ran into like a blue-lit snowglobe. I fell like a dead corpse and hit my back into the wall. I tried to get up as one of those lovely gentlemen was shaking the ground with his fat pace to me. I grabbed onto his foot and Fenris's sword plunged in his back and went out his neck as he fell. He held the man on his collar and threw him to the closest wall like a dead weasel.
"Good call," I said half-stuttering. The whole of Lowtown was spinning with me.
He didn't say anything. He lifted me up by the wrists and I tripped heavily onto him and I felt his spiky gauntlet thrusting into a region far souther than my hip. "Woah, hello sailor," I said in amusement.
He quickly put his gauntlet away, raised it to my hip and cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Forgive me," he said knightly, as if he had committed a crime.
As we managed to climb all the stairs without falling over each other and rolling over downhill again, we got into the Chantry square and I told him I needed to sit down. He rushed me to the stairs of High Estate District and put me down.
I took a few shots of air and cleared my head. Shit.
"Fucking Babette," I muttered.
"What?"
"Mother has the DeLauncet family over. It totally slipped my mind. Well, let's hope I don't puke on someone's shoes."
He sighed, "No."
"What do you mean no?"
"No as in you're not going home if your mother has company."
"Hey! I'm the proprietor of that house, I can walk in whenever I want, in whichever state I want."
"No, your mother owns the place since you're too lazy to put in your name."
I looked at him for two seconds in silence so he could catch my drift. "That's an astounding argument, Fenris," I said sarcastically.
He growled and rolled his eyes, "Just come with me," he said in annoyance and pulled me up by the wrist again. It was strange, but him dragging me by the wrist up to his mansion seemed, apart from childish and a bit painful, very…I was drunk, I didn't know the word. It was nice. Let's leave it at that.
"Woah, wait, wait," I said half-sleepily right before his door.
"What is it now?" he asked grumpily.
I dangled on for the bench at the ivy wall where I waited for him in my stupid, ridiculous clothes after I ran away from the ball. He followed me in silence, probably cursing at me in his mind. I searched for the paper and tobacco in my pack and started rolling one.
"May I ask what the hell you're doing?" Fenris asked me as he sat down next to me.
"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm rolling a – what's the word… cigarillo."
"Do I even want to know what that is?"
"You smoke it."
"You mean like those large brown things you drag and blow smoke with?"
"Yes, like that, only smaller and it doesn't kill you that fast."
"Why do you do that if it kills you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Everybody dies. What doesn't kill you on the spot isn't so bad."
"It's bad if it destroys your physical condition, on which you solely depend on as a fighter."
"Fighter, schmiter, I haven't smoked one in years and you barely find them anywhere but in Antiva," I said and he frowned at me. I drew an intentional fake smile. "I'm rich, suck it."
He shook his head and crossed his arms, looking in the distance. "Is this going to become a regular thing?"
I raised an eyebrow. "No. I'm not that stupid. I'm also not that rich," I said childishly as I finished making the cigarillo.
"Good," he said grumpily while remaining with his arms crossed.
"Oh, I'm sorry, how does this affect your already so affected life?" I asked sarcastically.
"It doesn't," he said flatly.
"You sure?" I said as I blew a circle in his face. He moved away from its trajectory and grimaced.
"Foolish," he muttered aggressively and shook his head.
"So we're both of a mind that I can go now, yes?" I said playfully before blowing out a tornado of small circles.
"You're not going anywhere," he said determinedly. "Not dead drunk and reeking of smoke."
"Well that concludes the mystery of Hawke being a lady or not," I said nonchalantly.
"Wasn't it you who said a model is just a cheap imitation of the real thing?"
I laughed, "Well I don't know how the real thing is like. You'll have to be the judge of that."
"Perhaps I will. Are you done?" he asked grumpily.
"Wanna see something cool?" I said playfully, ignoring him. He didn't answer. "Alright, since you're dying to know," I said sarcastically and took a large drag.
I concentrated as best as I could and blew out the smoke while with my left hand I played with a forcewave that formed a huge… well, let's say this is what a dragon would look like after it was beaten, tortured and malnourished for a thousand years. And it had only one horn. In a split second I tried to save the moment and created a small fireball in the air that looked as if it was breathed out by the dragon.
"Impressive," he said, after flinching a bit at the sight of the fire.
"I told you it would be cool," I said confidently.
"Is this the way in which you are training your powers? Because it would be a sad state of affairs when I'm not a mage, and yet I'm bringing reason to this particular equation."
I frowned and turned to him. "It's not," I said in a determined voice and narrowed my eyes at him. "And you never let me have any fun."
He chuckled softly and looked at me, "I think that's for the best."
"Poor Hawke. Deeply disturbed and irrevocably crazy. What is she going to do without Fenris to be the royal buzzkill and pain in her ass, which as of late is open for accidental cupping, apparently."
"Oh? It seems I've climbed the ladder from my original position," he said sarcastically.
"From major to royal? You bet," I said grumpily and threw what was left of the improvised filter.
"Are you done? I'm tired."
"Too tired to cup another feel?" I asked childishly.
He frowned and got up, then sighed and pulled me up too. My drunken state and the inertia were not playing for the right team, because I tripped against him and he had to catch me again. As he caught me by the ribs, my hand landed somewhere unintentionally and I could have sworn these would be the last seconds of my life. But my reason was long past its normal 'barely there' and I just stood there with my gauntlet on his behind and he was frowning colossaly at me.
"You know how it goes. An eye for an eye, a cheek for a cheek," I said confidently and grinned at him.
He gave me a homicidal look and if I were in my right mind, this was the time to take a run for it. Instead I just stood there being eyed by an elf who was probably going to implode inside, strike a fist in my heart and having to explain later to my mother that he got mad at me for touching him inappropriately so he had to kill me.
His look grew darker and he pressed his lips angrily. I felt his hand moving away from where he was holding me and I flinched defensively and landed with my back against the wall, since I thought he was going to strike me. As if a wall would help. Instead, his gauntlet reached for my own behind and the spikes hurt like hell because apparently he didn't shy away from squeezing it forcefully. His face was screaming ferocious murder just a few inches away from mine.
"You let go, I let go," he said in a deep voice as he eyed me insistently.
"You're not very good at this game," I said confidently and chuckled. "I could stay like this all night."
He gave me a dark, sensual smirk and placed his other hand against the wall near my face, "So can I. It's certainly not an unpleasant sensation," he said nonchalantly.
Drat.
Better switch strategies.
"Fenris," I said slowly while grinning. "Who would have thought?"
His grin started to disappear and his eyebrows lifted shortly as I reached for his ear and half-whispered, "I hope you realize I'm besotted out of my mind and I won't remember this in the morning. My last voice of reason that is going to die in the next seconds reminds you that you're crossing the line from playful to taking advantage of very quickly."
He eyed me with a dark look and I felt his breath on my neck as his lips reached for my ear. Suddenly fear was not the strongest sensation I felt, and it wasn't in my legs either. "Then let go," he said nonchalantly, his dark grin coming back.
That's it. That's all I remember.
Sorry to disappoint.
I lied. I LIED.
I'm not going to properly take care of you in this chapter.
Oh, now you really wish Fenris narrated this, don't you? Bah.
Wait 'til you hear his load of crap.
Sunrise, Fenris's Mansion
Oh, the soft breeze of nothing... it was marvellous, and Maker that feel of the cigarillo smoke that I hadn't tasted in years and oh, the smell of strawberries and,
BANG
I fell out of bed, hitting my head to the floor, covered in the sheets. And oh… OH. The pain…
The door opened and I turned my head up from the ground to see Fenris with his vest undone standing in the doorway. No gauntlets, no pads, just a whole lotta different, fishbone-like markings on his shoulders and arms. The light coming out from the hallway blinded me and I growled.
"What are you doing in my house?" I demanded, half-stuttering.
"You asked me to redecorate it so it would be the spitting image of my mansion," Fenris said sarcastically and grabbed me by the wrist to get me up. I didn't realize at first, but as I let go of the sheets I was standing in my black smallclothes so I immediately covered myself with the sheet again and he coughed awkwardly, looking away.
"Andraste's flaming butt, what happened last night?" I asked in outrage.
Fenris chuckled softly, "You drank, you dangled, you fainted."
"You really don't like storytelling do you?" I asked sarcastically. My eyes widened suddenly. Open vest, me half-naked, his room. Oh no…
"I prefer to stick with the cold truth, so there's no means of embellishment," he said flatly, resuming his nonchalant statue position.
"Fenris you have three seconds to clarify what else happened, with or without embellishment," I demanded firmly.
He lifted his eyebrows, opened his mouth and looked away. "No- nothing else happened."
I frowned and squeezed my sheets that were wrapped around me and stood my ground. "Then why am I almost naked?"
"You get hot during the nigh- , how should I know?" he said angrily and frowned.
"This is your room. The premises expect you to know."
"You crawled in here saying it's the only room you like and smashed the door in my face. You're the only one who should know."
"I did?" I asked bewilderedly and lifted my eyebrows. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," he sighed. "I'm the idiot that insisted you don't go home."
"Wait. You took care of me?"
"Is there something in that sentence that seems too complex for you to grasp?"
"Uh, yes," I said and raised an eyebrow. "I barge in here uninvited all the time and disturb your peace."
"And what does that have to do with anything?"
"I don't know," I said. "I don't even know what I'm saying. My head is exploding."
He left without a word and closed the door. Ah, great. I offended him again. How do I always manage to do that… I rapidly put my griffon chainmail robe back on and lifted my pants up while almost tripping over them. When I started to put my boots back on the door opened. Fenris walked to this table and placed two cups of something on it.
"Please," he said knightly and gestured at the cups.
I sat down and smelled the cup suspiciously and he frowned at me. "What?"
"It's just green tea, for the love of –"
"I know, I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing," he said commandingly and took a sip from the cup.
"I'm sorry," I said childishly and smiled.
He laughed shortly and contained his smirk. "You are unbelievable."
"What did I do?" I asked playfully.
"What didn't you do," he said nonchalantly, shaking his head.
"Please don't tell me I forced myself onto you and you refused."
He gave me an arrogant smirk. "Would that be such a tragedy?"
"Well – yes, of course. That would be the cherry on top of all tragedies."
"Men dying in wars and children starving on the street, taken away from their mothers, but my rejecting your attempt of seduction is still the worst of all tragedies."
"Cut the crap, Fenris. Did I or did I not?"
"Who said you did anything?" he asked nonchalantly.
"What?"
"I'm kidding. Nobody attempted anything on anybody."
"Well that's a sha-… I mean, good," I said awkwardly and cleared my throat. "Wait a second… I assaulted you last night."
He chuckled softly. "It was more of a mutual assault."
"Is that why I don't remember anything else? Did you punch it out of me?"
He looked up and raised an eyebrow. "In retrospect, that would have probably been the wisest idea."
"Then what happened?" I asked angrily.
He smirked. "What do you think? I won."
"What do you mean you won?"
"After a very questionable while, you eventually," he smirked, "let go."
"Bullshit."
"Believe what you will."
"That's not the whole story."
He laughed. "Do you think I would make it that easy for you to win a perfectly solemn bet we sealed with a perfectly dignified handshake?"
"Wait. So you're making it hard? Like, you're making it – anything?" I asked bewilderedly, as if I just realized something.
He grinned shortly and looked down, then back up at me. "Can I admit something to you without you getting the wrong idea?"
"I… think so?" I said an raised an eyebrow.
He gave me a dark and piercing half-smile. "You're adorable."
"Excuse me?" I asked in outrage.
"I don't need to repeat myself," he said flatly and took another sip of his tea.
"If I weren't hungover I would so beat the crap out of you right now."
"Exactly my point."
"Oh, bugger off."
2 months later, Sunrise, Ending up hungover again at Fenris
Fenris took a sip of the now traditional hangover tea. "I seem to recall a certain promise you made to me," he said, grinning to no end.
"I make a lot of promises. You'll have to refresh my memory."
"You said you would offer your hand at helping with my back problem."
"Oh, sure. After two months of refusing. Why not? Kick a man when he's down."
"What does that mean?"
"Hungover and ready to be killed. Always a pleasure."
"I didn't mean now, necessarily."
I grinned. "Well, what the hell… Since you don't let me flirt with you, I might as well just flirt with death."
He gestured to bring it on. "By all means, flirt. I'm curious how you can even manage that."
I frowned at him and said firmly, "Just shut up and get on the bed."
He snorted at the irony of my comment. As if that's the best I could do. Oh, you want flirting? I'll give you flirting. You'll fall in love with me by the end of this very morning, you arrogant whiteheaded bastard.
"I don't see you on the bed, Fenris. Or do you prefer you sit with your face down on this narrow bench?"
"No, I'd prefer the bed."
"Then take you shirt off and go already."
"I don't know if that's the wisest way to go."
I searched my mind for a while. "Your markings…?"
He sighed. "Yes, my markings."
"Fine, leave it on."
He laid on the bed facedown and I couldn't help but say a short prayer in my head. I lifted my sleeves and… hello there. No, stop it. Fenris's ass is not the thing that you have to take care of right now. Get yourself together, woman.
I blew hot air into my palms and rubbed them a few too many times, and then
"Whenever you're ready. This year, if it's not too much to ask."
"Sir, yes, Sir," I said sarcastically. "I'm going for the shoulders, just as a heads-up."
"Have at it. Good luck," he said nonchalantly and put his hands under his chest.
I do need some luck; luck would be nice.
I placed my hands on the back of his shoulders and squeezed, then placed my thumbs on his neck and pressed on his skin gently. He didn't move or say anything, which was a good sign. Unless I accidentally pressed a blind point and put him to sleep. I tried not to breathe too heavily and went down to his scapula.
"Maker's butthole, that's a stiff back," I said in amazement. "How do you even move in combat?"
"I'm an elf," he muttered and I could feel him rolling his eyes. "We were born flexible."
"Good to know," I said, thinking out loud and quickly tried to think of a continuation. "I could have you join me at the Circus. We're short on handsome flying acrobats."
"Imagine that," he said sarcastically in his grumpy voice.
His vest was so thick I could barely do anything. I pressed as hard as I could all around his back. He growled suddenly, "Just undo the straps. This is pointless."
"You wanna die in pain?" I asked him angrily.
"I'm used to it," he said knightly, with an obvious hint of bitterness.
I undid his vest and swallowed heavily, for not only did those markings seem strange and demonic, for lack of a better word, but his back was also filled with firm, sculptured muscles, almost glowing in that tan skin of his. He was breathtaking, but I despised the markings. Isabela couldn't shut up about how sexy those tattoos looked, but I had never agreed – and now I couldn't disagree more strongly again. It was a graphic, macabre symbol of a curse all over his body, masked by a seemingly pleasant, flowing design. And that didn't make it any easier on his pain from them. No, it was a curse he had to bear every day.
I concentrated carefully and tried to touch only the space between the markings. He didn't have many on his back – just a few around the ribs and two on the back of his shoulders. I pressed freely now and he didn't seem to protest, so I continued.
"What's wrong?" he asked suddenly.
"Nothing, it's not important."
"Hawke."
"My back is starting to hurt from this position. It's a bit uncomfortable standing."
"Then stop."
"Would you strike me if I said there's another solution? But you might not like it."
He chuckled, understanding my drift. "By all means… ride me like a horse," he probably said sarcastically.
"I don't really know if you were sarcastic or not."
"I… don't know either. But we've already embarked on the boat of the utterly ridiculous. This might not make such a big difference."
"Tell my mother I love her, alright?"
"I will."
I climbed on top of him and he groaned. "Thank the gods you're wearing light armor."
"Insulting the service provider is usually not the way to go if you want to survive while you're under them," I said grumpily.
"My apologies," he said nonchalantly and turned his head with a grin. "You're light as a feather."
"So… really? How come you're not killing me or something?"
"Killing the service provider is usually not the way to go when you want your problem fixed," he imitated me in amusement.
"If this is a dream," I started sarcastically and sighed. "I need better dreams."
"I assume by 'better' you mean the bed-breaking kind of dreams?"
"Yes, exactly so. And apparently only you can provide that, how lucky of me!"
"Are you subtly trying to hire me for that service?"
"I'm sorry. Did you hire me to fix your back?"
He laughed softly. "Then I suppose I shall have to be a charity."
"I don't take charity," I said firmly, and squeezed his skin a bit too hard, but he didn't flinch.
"Well, now I just feel foolish," he said nonchalantly, pertaining to how he was accepting charity.
I frowned. "What I'm doing for you is not a charity. It's out of honest desire to see you better and maybe perish that hideous humpback look of yours. Yours would be a charity."
"Do I look like a woman?" he asked angrily.
I chuckled. "It would certainly explain why you whine and complain all the time."
I could feel him rolling his eyes. "Never mind."
For a while longer, we didn't speak. I concentrated on my work and when I was done, he seemed to be dead, "Uh… Fenris?"
"Mmm..," he just muttered in a sleepy voice.
I swung on the side and sat on the bed, looking at him. He seemed so peaceful and … cute. He was either enveloped in utter relaxation or I simply killed him.
"I take it I've done a pretty good job," I said happily.
He groaned again and opened his eyes, "You have no idea."
1 month later, The Hanged Man
"A little bird told me there was a noble woman spotted leaving a certain Tevinter elf's mansion a few times in the morning," Varric said charmingly as I drank my beer and I immediately choked on it and spilled it out.
"You're spying on me again? Is that some silent punishment from the last ten you said you'd keep for 'rainy days'?" I asked defensively in an angry tone.
"No, of course not. Please," Varric said charmingly. "Just keeping an eye out for my favourite crazy human."
"Sure," I said and narrowed my eyes. "I bet you know what colour my smallclothes are too."
"That's all Rivaini," Varric said confidently. "What do you take me for?"
"You mean apart from being an overly nosy dwarf obsessed with control?" I asked sarcastically.
"Cut the crap and explain yourself, Pantaloons," he said charmingly and took a sip from his pint.
"There's nothing to explain," I said firmly.
"You can't bullshit the bullshitter, Hawke."
I sighed. "If I tell you will you please keep it to yourself? As in just to yourself. No realistic or wild stories."
"Sure. Your secret's safe with me. As well as your walk of shame," he said warmly.
"Walk of shame? Ugh, you're getting this all wrong," I said grumpily.
"Maybe you're getting it all wrong. There's only so many answers to the question 'Why are you spending nights in a man's house?'"
"He asked me to help with his back problem. So I did. I'm nice. End of story."
He laughed heavily. "Right, that's all there is to the story. You can give me a tiara and call me the Princess of Orzammar."
"I thought you didn't have princesses in Orzammar."
"Talk, Pantaloons."
"Look, there's nothing more to it. We leave The Hanged Man and walk home together, out of plain necessity and sometimes he invites me for drinks and –"
"And?"
"And I rub his stiff back until he falls asleep. End of story."
"Then why did you sometimes leave in the morning?"
"Because I'm too tired or buzzed so I just go into the next room and sleep it off. We wake up and drink tea, then I'm out of there."
Varric's eyebrow drew so high it almost went out of its orbit. "You're shitting me."
"I shit you not," I said warmly and shrugged.
"So there's nothing going on? You just talk, drink and occasionally you touch him and he lets you."
"It's just his back for pit's sake. What do you take me for?" I asked angrily.
"A doofus who doesn't realize the angsty Tevinter elf next door has the hots for you."
"Right. 'Cause that's what men do when they crush on a woman. They ask for back rubs and then say goodbye."
Varric chuckled, "Well what do you expect? He's not your ordinary heartbreaker."
"Varric," I sighed. "I'm not even sure he knows what that means."
"Of course he doesn't," he said charmingly. "You might just have to spell it out for him."
"Me?" I asked in outrage. "He can sort his own intimate problems."
"Are you seriously trying to bullshit me into thinking you don't want to touch each other in your special places while you're 'fixing his back problem'?" he asked in amusement.
"He could have asked for it a lot of times and he didn't."
"Ask?" Varric laughed. "You're adorable, Hawke."
"Say that one more time and I'll cut you," I said angrily.
Varric raised his hands in peace. "Look, Miss Purity, can I ask just how much you drink with him?"
"Like the amount?" I asked bewilderedly.
"Yeah, like how shitfaced you get at his place."
"Not much. Two glasses of wine maybe."
Varric said in amusement, "Well there you go. You need to get him drunk to see what he really wants."
I raised an eyebrow, "I'm not interested in what he 'really wants'."
"When you're done lying to yourself, listen to my advice – I'll make sure all of us somehow become busy at Satinalia. He's not going to shy away from alcohol in a place he'd find utterly ridiculous and enraging."
"I hope there's more to this – like how we'll even convince him to go to Satinalia."
"What's the big deal? He's done it before. Then again, we stood in a bazar and sold junk the whole night, but at least he didn't blow up and killed everybody, so I think he's good to go."
I crossed my arms. "You've overlooked the part where I would blow up in such a place."
"Oh, Hawke, I know you're a rebel little boy queen, but it won't kill you to throw on a dress and strap on a pair. See? You'll still be the best of both worlds."
"Absolutely and positively no," I said firmly and crossed my arms.
"Positively no," Varric chuckled. "That's exactly what this is," he gestured dramatically. "DENIAL."
"Since when are you so psychoanalytic?" I asked perceptively.
"It's a vicious cycle," Varric said charmingly. "You'll get used to it."
Did I take care of you well in this chapter? Yes I did, come on. Admit it. Well, it doesn't matter anymore, because I have to leave now. That's it for me. Maybe I'll barge into this story again when I'm drunk and ecstatic again. 'Til then, Hawke out!