SATINALIA SPECIAL LONG CHAPTER! Cheers for Secret Companion and all my friends!

Before you begin, let me imagine having a toast with all of you for keeping up with this ridiculous story! Thank you so very much. And I don't know what's going on, but whenever I write a chapter very quickly without thinking intended to be funny (like the last one) I don't expect it to be that funny and then I get reviews saying it's funny… Or when I write some philosophical rant and I don't expect you to like it I get reviews saying you liked it. It's pretty nice, makes me feel good XD So thank you everyone.

Let me assure you, things are becoming very interesting now. Confusing, rapid, tumultuous, whatever. It's gonna be fun! And kinky. I can't help it anymore, I refuse to sit idly by and not be kinky anymore. But you'll see. You know how it goes – good things cum to those who wait. Wow, that did not look as badass as it sounded in my head…

ENJOY!

Satinalia, Night, Hawke's Estate

"Varric, what the hell!" Hawke screamed angrily and covered herself as he barged into her room.

"Out of pure friendly concern just checking with utmost patience and ever so gracefully WHAT THE HELL IS TAKING YOU SO LONG," he said while covering his eyes sweetly.

"Get out," Hawke said firmly. "I was just getting ready."

"Nope," Varric said sweetly. "I'm not going out of here until you're done. Tell me when that is, 'cause my face is falling asleep."

"Done," she said grumpily. Varric uncovered his eyes and saw her in a black vest over a white shirt and black pants.

He chuckled, "Pantaloons, you're not going out dressed manlier than myself alone. Change."

"Who told you to put on an embroidered shirt?" she asked angrily. "Not my fault you wanna look like a princess."

"The damage is done, my friend. Too late," Varric said charmingly. "Now put on a dress and let's go already."

Hawke burst into laughter. "Dress? You think I own a dress?"

"No, I guessed that much," Varric said in amusement. "Look into your bottom drawer."

Hawke narrowed her eyes. "You're an obsessive control freak and you should get yourself checked."

"I'm not crazy; my mother had me tested," Varric said and chuckled.

"And where did she have you 'tested'?" she asked in amusement.

Varric hesitated sweetly, "Not important. Now go look into that drawer."

She sighed and opened the drawer, getting out a short crimson red velvet dress with just a few flower embroideries on the shoulder sleeve. "You're joking," she said revolted.

"I joke about a lot of things, but not about a pretty dress on a beautiful woman," Varric said charmingly.

"Dear sweet Varric," she said dramatically. "How do I put this in the nicest way possible - Hells to the no to the never ever ever."

Varric sighed, "Why do you have to make this so hard for me?"

Hawke widened her eyes and squeezed the dress in her hands, "You wouln't."

Varric gave her an evil grin, "You know I would. So I'm giving you ten seconds to decide if you do it voluntarily or I compel you to. So ten,"

"I-" Hawke stuttered.

He crossed his arms and shook his head. "Eight, seven…"

"Can't I just-"

Varric ignored her. "…Five, four."

"Can I at least wear it with pants?"

"Three-two-"

"FINE."

"Aaand we're done, ladies and gentlemen. Put it on and NO, you may not wear it with 'pants'," Varric said mockingly and frowned.

"Oh fuck the eighteen generations of your ancestors, you evil sick son of a bitch."

"Curse at me all you want, Hawke. You'll thank me later."

"At least get out of my room until I change," Hawke said defensively and gestured for him to leave.

Varric snorted, "You take me for a fool, Chuckles? I know you can climb up the fireplace."

"Or I can just beat the crap out of you. I just have to take one step and you're dead as a doorknob," Hawke said aggressively and clenched her fists.

He raised an eyebrow and looked at her blankly, then quickly burst into laughter. "Oh, you're killing me, Hawke. That was cute."

"I'm about to," Hawke said violently in a low voice.

"Right. And I'm a six foot tall black-haired stud and they call me Marcelino Caliente."

She narrowed her eyes. "Muy muerto, señor" she growled homicidally.

One day before, Fenris's Mansion

"I shit you not, elf," Varric said charmingly. "She found all their hiding places. And come on, she found her brother without a dime of information. I tell you, elf, if Hawke was an Imperial soldier sent after you she would have found you a good three years ago."

"Perhaps I should be grateful for the small things," Fenris said grumpily, discarding a song card.

"Perhaps you should," Varric said in amusement. "Well now that I think about it, if Hawke was an Imperial soldier and she looked after you across Thedas, I think the moment she found you she would have a form of crisis of conscience and decide to leave that relentless life. She's always going to be a good person. Well, after you engage in a night of mindblowing angry hate-sex on the roof of some abandoned tavern where you'd be hiding, of course."

Fenris raised an eyebrow, "You really have a clearly titanic amount of imagination, don't you?"

Varric grinned and looked at his cards, "Oh, I embellish from already existing facts. It's no fun to make up something with no basis of reality."

"And how does this have anything to do with reality?" Fenris asked and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you're friends, and you're a man and she's a woman and – "

"And that just automatically transgresses to 'mindblowing angry hate-sex' on the roof of a tavern, no matter who she is, where she comes from and however we meet," Fenris said sarcastically.

"Pretty much," Varric said charmingly.

Fenris remained unimpressed and with a grumpy look. "You're a very odd dwarf".

"I'm just messing with ya, elf," Varric said in entertainment and discarded a knight. "You wouldn't have a shot with Hawke in a million years."

Fenris frowned and Varric tried to mask his grin with the cards. "What is she, the Empress of Orlais?"

"Nope," Varric said sweetly. "But you may have noticed she's a bit… what's the nice word for it?"

"Impossible? More than flesh and blood alone can stand?" Fenris asked sarcastically.

"Nope, that's not it," Varric said and cupped his maxillary.

"Enough to try the patience of a saint?" Fenris continued sarcastically and took another card.

"Tough and self-sufficient," Varric said and threw a card on the table.

"I don't follow," Fenris asked nonchalantly.

"She's a leader with a lot on her plate. Like awfully lot. Everyone's shouting 'Hawke to the rescue!' and chasing after her for help, while she already has enough trouble as it is. You understand?"

"Hardly," Fenris said sarcastically, pertaining to the fact that he simply didn't understand what that had to do with him.

"Have you seen her with anybody since we met? I didn't. Not even an innocent flirtation. Nothing," Varric said perceptively and took a card from the deck. "I don't know. All I'm saying is she's the kind of girl that takes care of everybody and in turn, nobody's really taking care of her. Whoever's willing to take on that kind of challenge has to really know what he's doing. Or she. No judgmenet."

"I still don't follow," Fenris said and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't get me wrong, elf, you're the strongest most resistant person I know besides her, it's just," Varric said and paused.

"Just?" Fenris said and waited almost with a homicidal look.

"Angel of Death. Show your hand," Varric said, ignoring him.

"I have four knights, I win. Just what?" Fenris asked insistently, but with a mask of perfect nonchalance.

"Well… I don't see you having the balls for it. To make it as clear as day," Varric said charmingly. "Good game."

Fenris struck him a murderous look for a second, then resumed his flat appearance. "All that time blabbering and wasting precious minutes when you could have just said so."

"You know I like hearing the sound of my voice, elf," Varric said firmly. "Anyway, another game?"

"Sure," Fenris said and leaned forward to get the cards. Varric noticed Fenris's sudden willingness to shuffle the cards instead of him usually doing it and grinned.

"So, I'm thinking of getting another earring pierced at Satinalia. You coming to see my pain?"

"You know me, I always enjoy watching the suffering of others," Fenris said sarcastically and almost bitterly.

"Oh come on, elf, at least this time we'll get to drink our asses off and laugh at snobby nobles as they faint on the ground. Hawke's probably gonna be there to supply us with the liquor and the fun, as it should have been a year ago."

Fenris snorted. "She wouldn't go to a ridiculous carnival if she had to."

"I'm sorry, did I die and suddenly you're her best pal? I'm telling you she's gonna come. Maybe even in a dress."

Fenris laughed. "If she comes without being punished by you in a dress I'm going to climb on the roof and howl at the moon in my birthday clothes."

Varric chuckled, "Careful with your promises, elf. Although can't lie, I'd pay to see that."

Fenris discarded a serpent and smirked. "Alas, you will never get to."

"I'll bet you 50 silvers she's coming in a dress. Don't tell me you wouldn't go just to see that abomination of the earth… Oops, poor choice of words, but you get it."

"No, that's quite accurate. She would have to become possessed to wear a dress."

"Well, I like to think that she's not a man with incredibly soft skin and a questionably large bosom," Varric said sarcastically. "You in or what?"

"50 silvers. No punishment. Although I think even so, she would draw the line there and beat it out of you."

"If you see me bruised and scarred, consider the bet void."

"No. If you're beaten, you owe me twice the coin. Even a slap on the face counts."

"50 silvers and you have to wear a rose in your belt if I win. I just love seeing you pretty as a little flower."

"75 silvers and you wear that thorny rose as a necklace if I win."

"Fine," Varric said grumpily.

Sunset, Hightown Square

"Elf?... Elf!" Varric shouted at Fenris who remained lost for words and movement, his mouth opened shortly.

"So, are we going to sit here and look like sissies or are we gonna go and drink like true warriors?" Hawke asked confidently, seeming even more genuinely bone-hard and tough in her red velvet dress.

As Fenris got a hold of himself, he reached into his pocket and gave Varric the coin and received from him the stupid rose. They did everything very quickly while Hawke was looking behind her for the others.

"We're running short of one person, but oh, what the hell, open that bottle," Varric said charmingly and gestured at Hawke's expensive champagne bottle.

"Who else is coming?" Hawke asked bewilderedly.

"Blondie and I think Daisy, but I'm not sure. She said the red lanterns and flying paperbirds scare her."

"Anders is coming? Boy am I gonna make fun of him if he shows up in a festive mandress," Hawke said in amusement.

Varric raised an eyebrow. "Go look in the mirror, Hawke."

"I don't need to. I look tough in anything, whereas Anders looks sassy and girly even if you put pants on him and make him grow a beard."

Fenris snorted and remained silent.

"Let's just sit on the bench for now. Perfect view of the show they're putting on by the Keep," Varric said and took the lead.

"Wooh, who are you and what have you done with creepy Red Manlengs, Hawke?" Isabela said as she came by the fountain wearing almost nothing, as always. That almost nothing had a cleavage visible from Antiva.

"Yes, behold. I have legs," Hawke said sarcastically. They weren't very muscular. They were pale and looked positively fragile in that dress, Fenris thought.

The city square could not have been more beautifully adorned. Right in the middle, the four great stone ivy columns were wrapped into red and green garlands and festoons of different shapes and sizes. Some were simply resembling geometrical shapes, others were in the form of birds, roses and leaves. Added to the mystique, blue, red and lanterns of other colours were hanging low and high everywhere you looked. By the Keep, there was some sort of play being performed.

"Hawke, is that the Hero of Ferelden?" Varric asked.

Hawke flipped and got up quickly, "What, where?!" Fenris swallowed heavily in silence as his eyes wondered (questionably) quick to the red velvet dress that gave a faint, but firm outline of her -

"Come back and calm thy titties, I meant in the play over there."

"Oh…," Hawke said awkwardly and scratched her head. "Right. Well –"

"It's her alright, but poorly depicted. The real one is much more beautiful," Anders said as he came by the fountain wearing dark blue garments. Hawke turned around to see him and he continued, "As are you, Hawke. I'd never pictured you in a dress, and a short girly dress of all things."

"It's not girly," Hawke said and frowned.

"Keep telling yourself that," Varric said sweetly while holding the bottle. "Do the honours already?"

"Aveline! Wait, wait ,wait," Hawke shouted after her as she was patrolling with Donnic. "Come here, we're about to make a toast."

"Then where are the glasses?" Aveline asked flatly, trying not to laugh.

Hawke looked down. "Right. I'll be right back."

"So, Red, not in the mood for a pretty dress?" Varric asked mockingly.

"I'm on duty, Varric," Aveline said grumpily.

"But you've got a man stud patrolling with you and I'll be damned if anyone can take you down, even unarmoured," Varric said charmingly.

"Rest assured, while that is very true, the Captain has to take care of us more than we take care of everything else," Donnic said in amusement.

"Well when you put it like that, it just sounds like I'm your nanny," Aveline said in amusement.

"You know that's not true, Captain," Donnic said questionably warmly and Varric raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, Elgar'nan, there you are. I've been wondering Hightown for an hour looking for you," Merrill said as she came by.

"What did I tell you about using that ball of twine I gave you, Daisy?" Varric said fatherly as he gestured for home to sit next to him.

"Always use it?" Merrill said awkwardly. "It would be shattered in seconds in this crowd, Varric."

"Then what did I tell you to do when you find yourself in these situations?" Varric asked sweetly.

"Come to The Hanged Man and look for you," Merrill said.

"Next time, please for the love of my ancestors, do that."

"Oh, Varric, it's not like anything bad happened to me."

Varric sighed, "I know, Daisy. And that 'nothing' is costing me a fortune.

Hawke came out of her estate with a box of glasses and put it on the ground. Then she got the bottle from the dwarf's hands, which was tied beautifully with a red ribbon.

"Alright. When I untie this ribbon, rest assured, we're concluding another tiresome year of crazy adventures and a hell of a lot of fun together," Hawke said warmly and undid the ribbon.

She instinctively went for the cork but then remembered she had no gauntlets. She looked at Fenris and he nodded knighly, getting up.

"Wait, don't break it open," Hawke said calmly. "I want to do the honours."

"I'll try," Fenris said flatly. He pushed the cork as gently as he could and gave the bottle to Hawke. She nodded as a thank you and gave him the ribbon to hold for her, then looked at everybody.

"Anybody want to make a wish before I do this?" she asked in amusement.

"I wish I'd be wearing more comfortable pants," Varric said sarcastically.

"Don't say it out loud else it won't come true," Hawke said warmly and eyed everyone again. "Ready? Made your wish?"

She punched the cork open and champagne came splashing out on the ground. "Ok, quick, quick, quick, I'm losing precious substances here!"

"A toast for another incredible year at your side, Hawke. Good to have you back," Varric said warmly.

"Don't make this about me, Varric. A toast for every one of you crazy bitches! And Donnic," she said sarcastically and he smiled and nodded.

They got up in a circle and hit their glasses together. Everyone started talking to one another and the noise was rather the same as always, endearing and irritating at the same time. Hawke caught Fenris's smart choice to tie the glass with the red ribbon and smiled, hitting her glass in his again. He smiled shortly and they drank the glass empty.

"Good thing you saved it," Hawke said to Fenris. "It's the same lucky charm I tie to my 'gigantic knife'."

"Then I shouldn't leave it on the glass," he said flatly and untied it. He gave his glass to her and she frowned in bewilderedness, as he tied the ribbon to his pocket where the rose was hanging.

"There, much better," he said and smiled, while he caught her blushing.

After a while, Varric and Isabela insisted that Merrill joined hands with them and dance in circles. At one point, even Anders got convinced.

"Is that what frolicking's supposed to look like?" Hawke asked Fenris, interrupting him from his thoughts.

"I really don't want to find out," Fenris said grumpily and shook his head at them as they gestured for him to join.

"How did that Qunari philosophy go again? If I fight, then I'm not a woman? Then you don't frolic, so it follows that you can't be an elf," Hawke said in amusement and crossed her arms.

"That would be perfect," Fenris said flatly. "I don't even want to be an elf."

"And I don't want to be a woman," she said in a bitter smile, since they both said things that masked an even deeper desire – that he wished he wasn't a slave and she wished she wasn't a mage. "Alas, we can't always get what we want."

"To unfair lives," Fenris said knightly and hit his glass in Hawke's.

"And deeply disturbed friends," she said in amusement and smiled warmly at him, after raising an eyebrow at the others' dance. "Let's ditch them and see what's going on at the smithy over there."

They tried to elbow their way through the flaming crowd and Hawke stopped and got a hold of Fenris. "Or maybe we should just go back before we get crushed to bits."

Fenris smirked, "Please." He grabbed her wrist quickly and dragged her through the crowd carefully. This was nothing compared to the crowds he had to take Danarius through in Minrathous. Of course, he didn't drag him by the hand, instead just kicking and elbowing everything, if not outright punching the wild people that tried to attack them. Somehow he thought to himself he made the right decision when he left his spiked shoulder pads at home.

The smithy was apparently holding duel competitions. They didn't know for sure if they were performers or actual fighters, but nevertheless, they watched as two men swiftly battled each other without even giving one another a single scratch.

"This is awesome," Hawke said childishly. "I wonder if there's a prize."

"I think those crests over there are. It's a tradition to for the winner to get a hand-made and painted family crest," Fenris said as he pointed to the stand.

"Hm," she said and grinned at him. "How 'bout that duel you promised me?"

"You mean like a thousand years ago?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes that's the one," she said in amusement.

"Let's see. I will definitely win and then you'll beat me to death because I ripped your dress to bits. No, thank you," he said grumpily.

"I bet you the prize that you won't even get to scratch it," Hawke said confidently and smiled.

"So I get the prize either way?" Fenris asked while raising an eyebrow.

"I don't care for a stupid prize. I care for the fun of the actual duel."

"Very well, Hawke. If you want to embarrass yourself in front of hundreds of people, I'll most happily oblige," he said arrogantly and smirked.

"You're on, elf," she said determinedly and went to the smithy to sign them up.

When the fight was over, the smithy told them they could choose from the swords he had on stand. Hawke suddenly struck a silvery grin and asked, "Are dual weapons allowed?"

"Anything is allowed, but are you sure you want to fight the lad with daggers?" the smithy asked her with concern.

"Not daggers, my good man, longswords," she said in amusement.

The smithy uncrossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, "So just to be clear – longswords and not broadswords."

"I'm a dignified greatsword wielder, old man, I know what I'm saying."

"Then shouldn't I interest you in a greatsword? I've got one that would really go with your –"

"No, I want to try something different tonight. Oh, I'll also need gauntlets, but that's about it." Hawke said confidently.

"And you're going in dressed like that?" the smithy asked her.

"Why not let my friend think he has a chance here and put on a show for a while?" she said confidently.

"As you wish," the smithy said and went to grab her two silver swords while shaking his heads at the thought of what a lunatic she was, probably.

Fenris also shook his head in amazement. She was crazy. Not only would he have to try not to kill her, he was certain that dress would be cut to bits even if he didn't try to.

"Whenever you're ready," Hawke said smiling as she interrupted him from his thoughts.

The smithy came in the middle and cleared his throat, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now welcoming to the 'arena' a most curious couple of rivals – the Red Fury of Ferelden and Mister… Fister!"

They assumed their positions and she swung her swords in the air confidently. Fenris held on to his greatsword and swallowed heavily, waiting for the man to call it. The smithy walked out of the circle and gestured that the fight began.

They walked in circles a bit, him overly careful and her simply swaying confidently and grinning at him. Seeing as how she knew he wouldn't charge first, she went into him and they started hitting their swords into one another swiftly. She ducked down every time he swung the sword at her head and he jumped when she tried to dual sweep at his feet. She rushed with her swords into him and he barricaded them with his sword, both of them pressing on as hard as they could. He pushed harder and she backed off slowly, then gestured to come right at her. He charged rapidly at her and she caught his greatsword with her two weapons, then swung them on the side and kicked him in the stomach. The people watching were cheering and gasping at every move.

He backed off and eyed her insistently. This was harder than he thought it would be. There and then she proved all the more effectively just how calculated and disciplined she was. For a second, he somehow felt proud to have such an opponent.

They met with their swords again and as he tried to sweep her off her feet, she dropped her swords and jumped with her hands on his shoulders and tumbled and landed behind him, kicking him as she landed. The inertia made him fall and she quickly got her blades back. She stuck out her tongue and raised one sword in the air as a taunt. Fenris grinned at her as he got up and pretended to do it much too slowly. Hawke didn't catch his act and as she approached him he quickly bumped into her and she fell.

He pointed his sword at her as she cupped her maxillary in pain. She grinned and pretended to be defeated, then as he let his guard down, she took a hold of his sword with her gauntlets and dragged him forward, then kicked him. He let go of his sword and backed away in inertia, then she got up and held his sword and bowed to the crowd.

"The Red Fury of Ferelden wins!" the smithy shouted in complete amazement and clapped his hands, along with the rest of the people watching. "Come here you crazy woman, I'll make you seven crests for this epic show."

"I told you you shouldn't have doubted me, old man," she said and followed him to the stand.

Fenris walked over to them and brought the blades back. Hawke got out the smithy's gauntlets and he saw that her hand was bleeding. Of course… what was in her head when she thought it was a good idea to grab the end of a sword by the hands?

"It's just a scratch, no worries," she said confidently to the both of them as they looked at her.

"Where I come from, it's called a flesh wound," the smithy said in amusement and put the gauntlets away.

"You haven't seen my scars, old man. This is nothing," Hawke said and smiled.

"So, what's it gonna be, milady? The Kirkwall sign or something you want in particular?"

Hawke frowned and thought for a second hesitantly, "Oh, what the hell, make an Amell crest."

"I'll make you seven, my dear," the smithy said in amusement.

"No need for such abundance, messere. Or better yet, make them the size of a knife. I could wear them as a fashion statement."

"As you wish," the smithy said and chuckled. "Come by my stand tomorrow and I'll get them done for you."

"You better be," Hawke said in amusement. "You saw what I can do with two swords and a poor dress. Tomorrow I'll be wearing my armour."

"I'm convinced, Serah," the smithy said and took a short bow.

She turned to Fenris and the crowd made room for them to pass as if they were some kind of heroes. They went over to a bench and sat down.

"Well, that was fun," she said as she looked at him.

"I'm deeply impressed, to say the least," Fenris said and grinned at her.

"Such flattery, Sir. I may fall at your feet if you shower me with compliments much longer," she said sarcastically. "Which would be utterly ironic, considering what happened back there just a minute ago," she said and pointed at the crowd.

As she pointed, Fenris saw the wound she theoretically gave herself and frowned. "Aren't you going to take care of that?"

"I'd rather just bleed it off than," then she whispered "heal myself in public."

He shook his head and reached for his pocket and got out the red material. She wasn't looking at him, so she flinched as she felt him take her hand and bandage it with it.

"Smart move," she said and grinned. "Thanks."

"Next year you're wearing the most massive armour you can find," Fenris said flatly as he bandaged her hand.

"Oh, there's going to be a next year?" she asked and smiled.

"It doesn't hurt to be hopeful," he said bitterly and let go of the hand as he finished.

"Let's find our favourite dwarf. I'm serious need of a drink after such an epic fight," she said happily and got up. "Wherever he is."

They went to the stone ivy columns in the centre of the square, but there was nobody there.

"Ah, drat," she said. "Now I realize there was nobody there to see how awesome I was and how cruelly I put you to shame."

"I can't say I'm broken up about it," he said flatly and sat down.

"You were quite impressive, as well. Well, unless you let me win, in which case you're a sodding asshole."

He laughed softly, "Believe me, I wouldn't fake it with you."

"No?" she asked as she approached him and stood in front of him as he was sitting.

"My morbid curiosity prevented me from even thinking about it," he said and smiled shortly.

"Well, I'm glad we could see eye to eye. And sword to sword," she said warmly.

"Whatever goes inside that head of yours seems to be working," he said, clumsily choosing his words in intent of a compliment that sounded much too vague.

"Do you have any other morbid curiosities about me then?" she asked in amusement, coming even closer.

"Just one," he said and grinned sensually.

"And what's that?" she asked while smiling.

He wanted to reach for her hand and ask her, but she bent down and approached him and he flinched. Her face came extremely close to his, but went past his shoulder as she got out an small piece of paper stuck inside the bench.

"What's this?" she asked and read the paper.

Dear Ms. Tuffpants and Mr. Bark-a-lot,

Since you and Broody decided to ditch us like the assholes that you are, we decided to ditch you too. But I'm not that cruel, so here's your next official Golden Punishment: Along the streets starting from the Market, there are three bottles of wine hidden masterfully by yours truly. Find them and when you get to the last one, find our hiding spot of celebration, since you're so good at it. Oh, and make sure to drink the first two, but not the last one, that's for us. That's an order, Pantaloons. No cheating. The bottle's magically sealed by Blondie anyway. You've got about as far as sunrise. And don't worry about dangers, we cleaned them up real nice. Most of them. Good luck scavenger hunting!

Yours truly,

Varric T.

"You've got to be joking," Fenris said grumpily and brushed a hand through his hair.

"I don't have much choice, either way," Hawke said with a sad smile. "You don't have to come with me if you don't want to."

"Considering the fact that this is Varric we're talking about and also, the fact that the 'scavanger hunt' starts in the Market, I think it's not so far-fetched to suspect he went somewhere out of town."

"So?" she asked nonchalantly and shrugged.

"So no, you're not going alone," Fenris said firmly and got up.

"He's a sodding crazy control-freak, but he certainly knows how to make up excitement, I have to give him that," Hawke said and shook her head while she chuckled.

Nighttime, Hightown Market

After extensive looking, Hawke found the bottle stuffed under the stairs of the market. Fenris felt his cheeks burning as he watched her bend down to get it and argued with himself as to look away or not. He didn't come to an accord with himself, for Hawke already got back up and gave him the bottle for him to open.

"What now?" he asked knightly.

"Now we get out of here."

They descended from the Market on the giant stairs and Hawke suddenly stopped and hopped on the balustrade. Fenris came and sat next to her and she gestured for him to do the honours this time. He punched the cork out and raised the bottle, "To pointless scavenger hunting."

"Not exactly pointless. It will get me drunk, that much I'm grateful for."

Fenris gave her the bottle after he took a large sip. "At least you won't end up hungover at my house this time."

"Yes, Maker bless this night for that," she said sarcastically and drank. "That's usually the last thing you say before the road to ruin."

"Road to ruin?" he asked and chuckled. "That's Varric's scavenger hunt written all over it."

"The road to destruction, then, to be more specific," Hawke said confidently and gave him the bottle.

"Duelling a dangerous warrior with two weapons in a dress and now talking about destruction. You seem particularly morbid tonight."

"I thirst for destruction, baby!" Hawke said childishly and Fenris asked himself if she was already taken by the liquor. "But seriously, no, I'm not destroying anything. No, I … take record, I take record of the imminent, the irrevocably impending."

"What's the irrevocably imminent or impending?" Fenris asked bewilderedly after he took a sip and gave her the bottle.

She took a large sip. "I take record of the impatience of a world that is destroying itself and that, in the ruin of its certainties, is rushing itself towards the unusual and the unbounded. You understand?" she asked and looked at him.

Fenris chuckled, "No. If you elaborate on it, I might."

"I knew a crazy old woman once in one of the villages we stayed in for a few months. She was waiting for her house to collapse on her, she was certain it was going to happen. So she spent her days and nights on the watch, wandering the hallways and lurking, ears out for every creak. She was unutterably irritated that the event was being delayed."

He didn't say anything and waited for her to make a connection to her original point, which she did. "On a larger scale, the old woman's behaviour is ours, all of world's. We are living with the promise of a fall, even when we don't think about it and think about anything else. But this won't hold; someday this fear of own selves will grow into something very noticeable and unnerving, so it will probably become a basis of education, a principle of future teachings. So, what I'm saying is, the future in which I believe is pretty black."

"Hawke the eternal optimism is actually just a passive pessimist?" Fenris asked mockingly.

Hawke snorted. "Since when am I an optimist? Don't you know my opening line 'I'm not being mean, I'm being realistic'?"

"I thought it was 'I'm busy. Can I ignore you some other time?'" Fenris said in amusement.

"You're thinking I'm self-destructive now," Hawke said and took a sip.

"Like attracts like. Unless we're both wrong," Fenris said and looked away in the distance.

"Whoever destroys things, destroys himself. In everything I have hated, I've implicitly hated myself. I dreamed my own ruin and I dispelled my chances. This … scepticism, at first it's only been a useful tool, a method," she explained and looked at him, "but it ended up becoming a part of me, becoming my physiology, my visceral principle, if you will. I know its curable, I just don't know how yet."

"Are you referring to your lost hope for mages or lost hope for humanity in general?"

"Both, both. For a while, it felt nature to be attracted to things and ideas that have no chance of lasting or enduring. I've become a cynic. Like this 'mages are innocent' thing. Now I simply say 'Mages are innocent until proven otherwise. And it's fairly easy and fast for most to prove themselves otherwise.'"

"I agree," Fenris said flatly and took a sip. "But that's just being realistic, not cynical. Cynical is what I've been for most of my life."

Hawke frowned as she got the bottle from his. "Am I supposed to believe you aren't anymore?"

"Some of the things you've said about mages in our little 'quests', they were more aggressive and hopeless even than the things I had said," he said bitterly after sipping from the bottle and looking down. "I'm ashamed to say they sort of… toned me down."

"But I've said a lot of things that were particularly strong in their defence too."

"I know," he said and looked away. "You don't understand your present view of things."

"That I really don't, my friend," Hawke said courteously and took the bottle away from him. "You know, there's this Circle mage, Tobrius, who used to be my father's good friend, as I found out a long time ago. He told me my father was friends with a Templar that helped him escape. His exact words were 'Rule is not served by caging the best of us. A wise man. Doubt can serve the faithful, even as it vexes them. I fear that has been lost'. The Templar's name was Sir Maurevar Carver."

"Your father named your brother after him," Fernis said, more to himself.

"Yes and I was certain that once he found out, he'd go join the order," she said bitterly, taking another sip.

"A questionable pair of possible choices in fate. A Templar or a Grey Warden."

"Or death, don't forget death," she said firmly.

"I think he received the best possible fate he could from these three," Fenris said flatly.

"I agree," she said bitterly and looked down. "Anyway, this Tobrius, he seemed so calm and unperturbed by the state of his fate. He didn't even seem envious of my father becoming free and not him, even though they were friends. Although he did seem to believe in the rights of mages. He seemed very stoic about it, nevertheless."

"And that unsettled you?" Fenris asked perceptively.

"Yes. More because he was right. Nothing honours the saint or the monk better than discouragement and doubt. Just like he said about the Templar. Doubt can serve the faithful, even as it vexes them. Although I didn't think of it that way at first. What appalled me the most in that moment was his stoicism. How can I put in words that described that moment – I envied him for the art through which he knew how to die."

Fenris lifted his eyebrows. "You are particularly morbid tonight."

"Oh, just listen to me 'til the end. I'm not finished," Hawke said meanly and gave him the bottle.

"By all means," Fenris said knightly and gestured for her to continue.

"Let me make an opposite comparison. The nobles in this town. They are just the perfectly spitting image of people who are living in expedients and substitutes because they can afford to. I think I've learned from them more than from anybody else by watching them. They are all in a search for opportunities they bluntly refuse when they do run into them. Usually, these kinds of people are called 'losers'."

Fenris chuckled, "They do like to lose and mask them as cheap accomplishments through their ranks that seem immovable. In a way, you could say that people with this kind of power, that ultimately do not hold the major power, follow their own regression. And the faith they have, if they do have it, serves only as a pretext for new capitulations."

"Yes, they collapse into the Maker. Or any other god. They dwell into convictions and certitudes like a worm in an apple; they fall together with it."

"Yes, that's an effective way to put it."

"The cult of Truth… Bah. What truth?" Hawke said angrily. "Their 'truth' is just a fixated idea of adolescence or a symptom of senility. The truth is not meant to be known, as it is just the same, not able to be rationalized and translated into our words and our limited understanding. However, all it takes is one slip to fall back into its net, because we unconsciously seek the truth to justify everything. It's natural and irritating."

He thought about it and couldn't agree more. It was baffling and unsettling how he seemed to agree with more things she said than disagreeing. Was it still because she was a mage? He didn't even know anymore. He assumed there was a line between them which they would never cross, each of them being held on to a different extreme by nature alone, let alone opinions. Now the line appeared as if had always been just deeply and utterly imaginary.

"I'm destroying myself without doing anything; just waiting for my term, in this rotten air that convictions create – in a world that is suffocating on itself, I breathe; I breathe in my own way," she said with her eyes closed and feeling the chilly air.

Fenris listened and looked at her, "We are not meant to find out the truth, but I think we are meant to makes use of a much more cosmically close concept, that for the most part, remains unconscious."

"And what's that?" Hawke asked while holding onto the bottle.

Fenris shrugged. "I don't know exactly. But it's there. I can feel it sometimes," he said looked up. "Some form of honour or compassion I see in family members, for example."

"You're talking about my Mother aren't you?"

"Not strictly, but she has been a source of knowledge."

Hawke sighed. "My mother will probably presume innocence even in a blood mage. But I might be exaggerating."

"You know her better than I do," Fenris said and smiled.

"Well, to go back your original point. I do understand. There is a functionality to unconditional love. It's probably one of the only certainties that still grants a bit of justice to some people in Thedas. I saw it in my mother and father. I don't believe in soul mates, to be honest, but I do believe that some people are just right for each other. There was never any doubt from my part when I saw them."

"Do you think you would know the same fate?" Fenris asked in curiosity.

"Me?" Hawke asked mockingly. "By no means. Perish the thought. Not all people are meant to meet their perfect half. Maybe it's hazardous, maybe they're just chosen because they deserve that fate, but either way, I'm neither faithful that I have a chance, nor that I deserve it."

"You have me there," Fenris said firmly. "In the Imperium, there's hardly any chance you'll find people marrying for love or sustaining it. Everything is about money and power. Not that it's not the same in every other country, but it's particularly more hollow where I come from."

Hawke smiled bitterly. "I think you only get a chance if you have the balls for it. I think my parents asked for it and welcomed it with courage even in all that uncertainty. Whatever life they had before, it was meaningless. Mother's noble roots meant nothing to her and Father's mercenary life or magic meant nothing to him. And they meant nothing for the other. All that was important for them is that they stay with each other. And they risked it to the bone up until the very end."

"I saw that in your mother. The way she looked at you. How she waited for you to return every day with certainty and terror. If you lived this privilege already, why do you think it wouldn't be meant for you as well? Am I supposed to believe you don't have 'the balls for it'?"

Hawke looked up as Fenris watched her and waited for answer. "I don't know how to call it. Maybe I can just call it hopelessness. I've cycled through a lot of moments of kindness and cruelty and I've done a lot of bad things. It's not as if I'm such an exciting prize for whatever man is supposedly 'meant' for me."

Fenris snorted. "You must be joking."

"I am quite serious," Hawke said firmly and raised an eyebrow.

He would have said that she was strong, kind, mind-blowingly intelligent as well as beautiful. What more could a man want? But he knew he would sound like a giant hypocrite. Justifying your chains and eager to wear the burden. They both did it in different ways. Who was he to contradict her when he was no better. He wondered about the nature of this feeling he had inside him as he watched her, that a burden, no matter how big, could suddenly be shared. If you had the balls for it.

"I'll take your word for it," he simply said and took the bottle out of her hands. It was empty. "Time to find the next delicious bottle."

Nighttime, Kirkwall City Gates

They found the next bottle stuffed into a scarecrow with different direction signs glued onto it a few feet past the gates. What did a scarecrow even do in a place like this anyway? They suspected Varric was that crazy as to install his own puppet, but then let the idea slide.

They wondered the coast and took turns drinking, talking about their duel and exchanging advice on how to perform certain moves. It probably irritated them both that they kept agreeing on things, all the while welcoming criticism as they went.

"Okay, I just want to say one more thing in my philosophical rant and then I'm done," Hawke said childishly.

Fenris laughed shortly, "Go on."

"So, people, not just mages and Templars, – they cultivate this oddness of alienation, which in the future will belong to all of us. From want or necessity, we will experience an eclipse in history. I can feel it. And yes, now I am talking in particular about mages and templars. Call it an 'imperative of confusion', because that's exactly what it is. It's imperative and it will be confusing. It will splash all the present doubts and certainties alike. We've already started annulling ourselves in the multitude of divergences and frictions. Well, not you and me, we're past that, I hope. I mean the world's divergences with itself, in whole and in general. Between mages and the Chantry, espeically. It's like our spirit is negating, as well as abnegating itself endlessly. The spirit just lost its centre, scattering only in attitudes, as useless as they are inevitable. Wherefrom – behold our impudence, our shamelessness and fickleness. Our lack of faith, as well as our abundance of faith – they both wear its stigma."

"I think I understand. From there you also have this need of people to dethrone the Maker, but also be saved by him through worship that consist of mere platitudes. They say the Maker abandoned us, that he does not care for this world anymore, until we become as him again. But this personification of the Maker – before, it seemed that people only attributed their virtues to him, now they attribute their vices, too. Through this statement 'Magic is to serve man and not rule him', doesn't mean anything anymore when it comes from him."

"And this modernization of the 'Heavens' also means its doom and its end. To his infortune, the Maker won't regain his reputation of 'infinite transcendence' any time soon."

Fenris chuckled, "And rightfully so."

"We always think that we can escape our singularities through impertinence. In reality, that way only bring us closer to the thing that obsesses them with. You understand?"

"I do," Fenris said in entertainment as they kept walking.

"Can I recite a quote and then I promise, hand over my heart, that I'm done with this rant?"

"Your rant doesn't bother me, it actually interests me. Much to your surprise, I suspect."

"Nah," Hawke said childishly. "I knew you had the heart of a philosopher from the day I met you," she said warmly and then cleared her throat to recite, "Vomit and panic of orthodoxies." Fenris frowned and then raised an eyebrow and she chuckled, "Wait, that's just the opening line," she continued, "Once upon a time we defined ourselves through the values that we agreed upon. Today, through the ones that we reject. Without the luxury of negation, the man is just a poor, pathetic little 'creator', incapable of fulfilling his destiny."

"Who said that?"

"I don't exactly know. My father had a lot of these quotes. Probably a poet though. He liked those sexually frustrated weasels."

"I can honestly agree – there has never existed an era more hollow than this one. I mean to say, man has never been more himself than right now; a being refractory and unwilling in the face of wisdom."

"We're just betrayers of animals, I quite want to make a toast for that."

The bottle was empty again. How did time fly so quickly? As they realized it, they also noticed that they were drunk out of their mind by now.

"May I end with a quote?" Fenris asked courteously.

"Sure, have at it," Hawke said as she almost tripped.

Fenris cleared his throat and recited dramatically, "As we let ourselves loose, however slightly, in the will of our impulses and urges, we notice that it is beyond our power to restrain, tame or hide our contradictions. They are the ones that guide us, instigate us and ultimately, kill us."

"Tevinter tragic poet?"

"I don't know," Fenris said and smiled.

"Well I am quite impressed. I don't know anybody else that could have survived my rant and actually provided additional knowledge on the matter, and calmly," Hawke said and smiled warmly. "You're not so bad, Fenris. I cannot restrain my impulse to say it any longer!" she said childishly, making the connection to his quote.

And I cannot restrain my impulse to kiss you any longer, Fenris thought to himself as he looked down.

"You're not so bad yourself, Hawke," he said nonchalantly and gave her a small contained grin. The air grew intensely chilly and the wind started to blow, destroying Hawke's tail. She cursed and sighed, probably because she had played 'female' long enough that day.

"So what was that morbid curiosity that you still said you had back in Hightown?" she asked demandingly.

Fenris swallowed heavily and cursed in his mind that she remembered. He wasn't going to ask it then, but now as he was drunk, the urge was almost uncontrollable. He pressed his eyes and reached for his pocket.

He stopped on the road and gave her the rose. She frowned a bit in confusion, but then caught his intent and accepted it without a word.

Sometime near almost Sunrise, The Wounded Coast

"Sod it, where in the Void is that stupid bottle?" Hawke shouted angrily, looking into a barrel on the coast. It was rather hilarious and endearing to see Hawke in a dress and searching through barrels in the middle of nowhere.

"I suspect Varric made the last one the hardest to gloat… and punish us both," Fenris said as he looked under an abandoned caravan where they once made a massacre of Tal-Vashoth.

"I found it!" Hawke shouted eagerly. "It was stuffed in the dirt with only the cork part camouflaged in the grass. Stupid dwarf and his mind games. It has a paper on it : Go to the end of the coast and uphill you'll see a pretty little tent. If you don't show until sunrise, you are BOTH getting the BLACK PUNISHMENT : No champagne, no cake, no us. Muahahahahha. Yours truly, Varric T," Hawke finished and rolled her eyes.

"Well with that compelling argument…," Fenris said sarcastically and shrugged as he dangled out of balance.

"Ugh, stop spinning," Hawke said, either to him, herself or the Wounded Coast. Or to all of them. She put a hand to her head and looked behind to see the sun almost rising. "Shit, we're out of time."

She looked back at Fenris who seemed to have a very determined and dark look, all in his imbalance. "We'll get there."

"How? I'm a mage but I can't make us fly," Hawke said angrily as she approached him.

He swayed his head and frowned, then turned to her and gestured at his back. "Hop on."

"Are you serious?" Hawke asked and raised an eyebrow.

"Who's faster from the both of us? The human in the dress or the incredibly flexible elf? Fenris said with a broad drunken smirk. She frowned at him and he gestured again commandingly, "Just do it."

"Fine," she said grumpily and uncrossed her arms.

He took the rose out of her hands as she hopped onto his back and placed it between his teeth. Then with questionably tremendous speed, he ran along the Wounded Coast as the crown of the sun started to emerge and mock his effort. He didn't give up and ran as fast as he could, holding onto her confidently and without even laughing at himself that he came up with that idea and actually placed a rose between his teeth, until they finally reached a cliff with a huge purple lit tent on top. He stopped instinctively right in the opening and let her down, so the others wouldn't start commenting and prodding them. The inertia made her almost strangle him as she came down to the ground. "Sorryyy," Hawke said in a drunken childish tone.

"Next time I'll wear a saddle," Fenris said sarcastically and chuckled softly.

"Anybody order a magically sealed bottle of champagne? Or a shot in the face while we're at it?" Hawke asked sarcastically as they came into the tent.