He opened his eyes as if a tornado slapped him so viciously across the face it might as well have killed him. He had her in his arms, he had her and now it as all gone and he couldn't believe it…

Haha. Just shitting you, it was NOT a dream.

…Don't frown at me like that, you know you deserved it. Next time please review D:

Fenris looked at her in fear, as the kiss was over, silently asking her, wondering and doubting. Hawke had her arms still wrapped around his neck and his grip was still pulling at her clothes. He didn't know what to do, he was freezing and boiling at the same time; but the tornado of wonder in him didn't seem so singular, as he noticed the turmoil in her face, her confused eyes and her slow breathing. No, he didn't frighten her, that was foolish. But whatever it was, he couldn't help but brush his hand through her hair in an attempt to move it against her ear. She flinched and inhaled quickly, lifting her seemingly terrified gaze at him and searched in his eyes for something he was sure he wouldn't understand. But it didn't matter. Just a moment ago, just for a moment, he had her. And it was the most hauntingly rhapsodic and enrapturing feeling in the world. She reached for his hand that was resting on her cheek and as she inhaled again, closed her eyes and felt his warmth. His look, in a harrowing second, turned so tantalizingly sorrowful, it seemed as though she would break there in front of him and turn into dust and he would wake up.

Fenris watched her close her eyes and feel his hand on her cheek, then inhaled deeply himself and slowly came closer to her again. He would keep the glimpse of this moment forever with him; it was like a beautiful painting of a peaceful, warm being sitting with her head tilted on her right, eyes closed and feeling the comforting touch of someone who kept her safe in that gentle hold as she smiled.

He ignored all his other voices, his demons and the throb of fear in his chest – they just became a hollow beat in a harrowing deafness and even that agony of silence was wiped away and barricaded. He gently placed his lips on her forehead and he could feel her smiling under his chin. She lifted her head up and he quickly caught her silvery grin and rapturing eyes and took it as a welcome to push his lips against hers again as he dragged her closer. This time though, their lips met in a gentle press, which made the creaking and throbbing of the flames nearby clash in their ears as if they could feel the fire through the sounds. Or maybe it was her, that was the gentle little flame. As he ran his hand on the side of her neck and continued the slow kiss, she slipped her hand through his half-open vest and rested it on his heart. Was it even beating? Only she could tell. The warmth and security of her hand on his chest maddened him, it made him growl with some form of frustration for her to widen her mouth again. As if she understood, she complied with his wish and he met the familiar, bewitching feel of her tongue twirling into his, followed by the perfect dance of lips closing and opening again. And again and again, Maker let it never stop.

His ear flinched at the sound of a door opening. Hawke quickly left his lips in a rush and widened her eyes, then forcefully pulled him up with her and murderously whispered to him to get behind the giant curtain.

"Love, is that you?" Leandra's voice came from the upper floor in the deathly silence that vibrated into the two's bodies like a freezing rush. She came rested her hands on the balustrade as she came into sight and Hawke scratched the back of her head, hiding the terrifying tension in her throat. "What are you still doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," Hawke said surprisingly calmly and danced with her eyes from her Mother to the curtain and back to her Mother again, then said in a nonchalant voice, "Thought I'd catch up on my reading."

"And on your wine," Leandra said disapprovingly as she nodded in the distance towards the glasses. "Why are there two glasses?"

Hawke widened her eyes, but controlled them with the same talent and discipline she proved in combat, "I have two hands," she said while stuttering and pressed her eyes at how ridiculous that sounded. Right, perhaps this didn't count as one of her best moments in talent and discipline…

"And a cow has four stomachs, but that doesn't mean it has to use them all at once," Leandra said in annoyance and rubbed her eyes in weariness.

"Now there's an image I won't be getting out of my head," Hawke said sarcastically, while still rushing her eyes from one curtain-covered elf to a sleepy mother in her night robes.

"Is there something on your mind, pup?" Leandra asked in concern and started climbing down the stairs.

"Nooo, nooo, nothing's on my mind," Hawke said almost half-shouting and rushed to the stairs and up at her. "I mean, yes! There is something, in fact."

Leandra stopped her decline and looked at her bewilderedly, "Well what is it, love?"

Fuck this. Hawke led battles more dangerous and seemingly life-threatening than this particular encounter in this particular… not at all familiar situation. This was outrageous. She got double-ambushed, tied, gagged and even imprisoned at some point, fought foes in so many overpowering numbers she couldn't even count that high and she had still managed to keep her head clear, follow her strategy and even find the time to shout directions at her companions. This, no, this was – She had to pull herself together.

She pretended to sigh in desperation. "I don't know what to wear for my name-day. It's so frustrating."

Leandra raised an eyebrow and Hawke swallowed heavily for she was certain that her mother wouldn't let herself fooled by something so ridiculously uncharacteristic of her to say. The following second however, she felt her inner soul sigh in relief as her mother laughed softly and caught her by the shoulder, "Did the girls place a bet on you that you wouldn't dare to wear something nice this year at least?"

"I suspect so, but that's not the point. I just don't know how to dress properly… and I want to throw on something special, at least this once. For your sake," she said calmly and looked at her.

Leandra sighed. "Well, since you've already baffled me to such an extent that you practically slapped the weariness off my face, how about we go and find you a nice outfit, shall we?" she said warmly and dragged her gently up the stairs and went for her room.

As her mother entered she quickly looked behind to see if Fenris had managed to leave. She saw strips of white hair disappearing behind the walls of the first hallway and she closed the door strongly so he would know it was safe for him to make his way out.

Outside Hawke's Estate

As Fenris closed the main door slowly, a tornado of thoughts kicked at his head and he had to sit down. He rushed at the bench of the giant stone columns in front of the house and sat down, allowing himself to breathe normally again.

Though the obvious questions should have darted at his head, the only thought that stirred was – Venhedis. She didn't tell anybody about her name-day or that she was planning on something to do about it. Was he supposed to give her a present? Was he even invited? He rolled his eyes and brushed his hair away from his forehead as he leaned back on the bench.

Foolish questions. He could laugh at himself now if he was in a better state of functioning.

He had her. He had her in his arms, he felt her hair and her warm touch. He kissed her lips.

…And now what to do. He felt like a character in an ancient comedy that was thrown back, literally, by life and the gods in the heavens were laughing at him – There's your freedom! What are you going to do now, except look around the square, looking like a drunken smiling idiot?

Oh he would so laugh at himself if his head wasn't blowing up with the impact she had left on him and his… everything.

Morning, The Hanged Man

"Heh-hey, to what do I owe the pleasure so early in the morning?" Varric asked Fenris joyfully as he came into his room. He locked the door nonchalantly while ignoring Varric's colossally raised eyebrow. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Varric asked fearfully and raised his palms in peace. "Look, whatever you heard, I swear I didn't do it! It was all Rivaini!"

"What in blazes are you talking about?" Fenris asked grumpily.

"Oh, uh… never mind. Just a heads-up though, there's a rumour going on that you're missing some… parts," Varric asked awkwardly while scratching his head.

"Poor pirate," Fenris said calmly while shaking his head.

"Well can you blame her? The woman doesn't know how to lose. She cheats her way through everything. I think she even cheated at cheating, if that makes any sense."

"That makes no sense," Fenris said flatly and sat at the table in front of him. "What the hell is it that you're eating?"

Varric cleared his throat and let out a poor Antivan accent, "Prosciutto crudo a la Bianca."

Fenris looked at him as if he was an idiot and the dwarf laughed, but he ignored him, "Did you know Hawke has a name-day?"

"Elf, even my morning shit has a name-day. Practically anything you give birth to has. Or is that too snobby a concept in Tevinter?"

"Well, for one, they don't consider everything that comes out of them worthy of a name-day," Fenris said grumpily, "and second, they call it a birthday."

"But the day you were born is the day you get your name. It doesn't make sense. Why would they simply call it birth-day. Are they fascinated with the wonders of the birth canal?"

"Seems a miracle to me that some people even manage to find their way out of a birth canal," Fenris said sarcastically.

Varric chuckled, "Oh I like your grumpy humour in the morning. Really gives me a kick to start making the good jokes around here."

"Why try so much when you're a perfectly good joke just by standing here?" Fenris said sarcastically and smirked.

Varric gave him a mocking face. "Boohoo on the funny odd dwarf. I'm about to cry, Serah."

"Please don't," Fenris said flatly.

"If you try to crack a smile once in a while, I might spare you of that particular agony," Varric said sarcastically.

"Don't hold your breath," Fenris said nonchalantly.

"I won't need to. Hawke might be coming here any second," Varric said subtly and grinned. He noticed the elf flinch at the name and look behind, as if he was afraid that a ghost would swoop at his back and strangle him. "So, while we're on that, you said something about a name-day?"

"I understand it's soon," Fenris said calmly. "Didn't you know?"

"Of course I know," Varric said charmingly. "I know everything there is to know in this town. Everything," he accentuated the last part with an evil grin and the elf swallowed heavily.

"And when were you planning on telling me? A month or two after it happened?"

Varric sighed. "I didn't tell you because I knew you couldn't keep a secret."

Fenris frowned angrily. "Excuse me?"

"Look," Varric said in a lower voice, as if the walls had ears – judging from all the ridiculousness he saw in his company, they might as well have had – "I had a mastermind plan cooked up to surprise her. Nobody mentioned anything to her and she didn't talk about her name-day either. I thought if I filled you in on the details, there would be a possibility that you'd just go and blab it at her and everything would be ruined."

"Are you joking?" Fenris asked angrily. "From all you crazy people, I'm the last one to fail at keeping silent."

"I know, I know," Varric said in annoyance. "But still, couldn't risk it. I was gonna tell you the day before it was supposed to happen anyway."

"Well, it is too late for that now. Start talking," Fenris said angrily.

Varric intertwined his hands on the table and started, "Ok, so here's the deal…"

After he told him everything, Fenris scowled and his mouth hung open, "You are remarkably and positively insane."

Sunset, Hawke's Estate

Hawke was taking Mojo on his evening walks through the town square. The dog sniffed every bush and ivy wall, thoroughly checking for any kind of foreign touch, then proceeded to happily remark his territory. The city lay under the usual curfew and the stones of Hightown seemed darker, more drab, suggestive of a fortress, the streets narrow and gloomy. The enclosed their splendour, unlike the grand fantastical stone facades of Ferelden architecture. She had walked her dog every evening through this unlawfully busy square ever since she returned, though it was quite darker now, more… as if it was enveloped in a radiance of encaging and unhinged rancour. It felt as if the walls were closing in on her and a sinister quality of restlessness hung around it. She couldn't quite put a finger on it.

An execution had taken place that day. A woman drowned her own children into the sea after her apostate husband had been killed by Templars. All her children bore the …well, curse of magic, for lack of a better word and in a fit of horrifying desperation she thought it was better that she ended their life now rather than be taken in and abused by the Templars.

Hawke had a natural distaste for such things, unlike a surprising number of nobles in Kirkwall. She edged towards the Keep where it happened, gazing upon the ground and wishing she wouldn't be so jarred by the horrible remnants of the cruelty that had taken place that afternoon. There was no corpse or gallows there, but she felt it and tried not to imagine it so much.

Her father always cautioned her back in Ferelden not to "enjoy" these spectacles, but rather to place herself mentally in the position of the victim if she was to learn the maximum from what she saw. To be careful. It could easily be her there one day, or she could end up at the hands of the Templars, which was much, much worse.

The crowds at executions were often merciless and unruly, taunting the victim sometimes, out of fear, she thought. Of course, in Kirkwall such things were a rarity if ever. Most of the times the prisoners would just rot in the Keep's prison or they were simply terminated in private, but this one was… particularly of interest, for the people. No doubt that this was not the Viscount's idea and in his better days, he would have never allowed it, but she suspected he had no choice under the wishes of a certain irritating figure… no other than Knight-Commander Meredith. It would be a warning for those who harboured apostates, to know that this was their destiny – they would go mad and become dangerous and cruel, just like the "abominations" they hid from the Templars. Preposterous…

It brought her comfort to know that her father was as intelligent a lad as they could get, teaching them to move swiftly, keep their unperturbed look as well as their mana deeply hidden, shifting quickly from the observation of Templars. It became a talent for them to move with such instinctive grace. She had always felt affected by the fact that her companions knew of her secret… which just magically, forgive the pun, travelled from Gamlen's mouth to Athenril, then Varric and Isabela… Anders and Merrill would have known either way and Fenris found out because she had to land that forcewave before the demons killed him. Sebastian was still unsuspecting though, even with her drunken tantrum-speech, bitching about Andrastianism. Thank the gods for that. Yes, gods, suck it Choirboy.

"It's as though we're invisible," little Hawke once said to Malcolm as they were passing through a foreign village where an execution had taken place along the battlements. "Because we don't really belong here and we will soon take our leave."

"Yes, but we are not invisible, remember it," her father whispered.

"But who died here today?" little Hawke asked with a sorrowful look. "People are cheering and weeping. Listen!"

He didn't answer. She grew uneasy. "Father?"

"A man who betrayed the kingdom under the false pretences of a reformer. He was conspiring with the Orlesians and was going to sell out his own. Or so they say. Remember Orlais, love? We gave you those old little satin shoes for your name-day," he asked sweetly, diverting her from the whole complicated explanation.

"What happened to him?" she asked sadly, ignoring his witty attempt to distract her.

Malcom sighed and looked away as they were elbowing their way through the busy crowd of the village. With all his wit, he couldn't lie to his eldest born. "He died today, hanged and then he was burned. Thank the Maker he was already dead before the flames rose."

Hawke frowned and thought on it, "You wished mercy on the betrayer?"

"I wish mercy for any man," Malcom said bitterly. He beckoned for her daughter to follow on a narrower street to make their way faster back to the abandoned house by the skirts of the village where they hid.

"Even a …" she whispered "dark mage? Surely you must not feel the same for such people."

He didn't answer. Now that Hawke remembered as she walked her dog, he probably didn't know how to answer. "They are far worse than this common betrayer, you know that!" she continued.

He had made it quite clear just how wrong the ways of dark magic were, but even so, he didn't know how to answer, present Hawke thought. He had more mercy than he wanted to admit, maybe. He couldn't answer her, but what he could do, was divert attention. "Are you going to argue with me until the end of the world!" he said a bit angrily. "I know that you think greater truths will come out from the strife between teacher and student, but I believe you need to let my lessons settle in quiet at least for the space of five little minutes in your mind before you begin your counterattack."

"Don't be so provoked, Father," she said sharply and narrowed her eyes.

"It's not the end of the world, love. We have enough time to debate this further when we find a proper home," he said delicately as they finally got out of the village.

Young Hawke smiled, but bitterly. She wanted to articulate, somehow against her father's indomitable command, a strong presentiment that they were all living in their last days, that is was the end of the world, and it was inscribed in their hearts, because they were apostates. But if she said it again, her father would only scold her for being so morbid.

As she stayed silent, her father smiled. "Ah, my little pup does listen to me," he said in an ironic voice. "Yes, I am glad that the betrayer is no more. But to rejoice at the end of something is not to approve this endless parade of human cruelty. I wish it were otherwise. Public sacrifice becomes grotesque in every respect. It dulls the senses of the populace. It makes people go to unnatural extremes that they wish they'd never be in if it were they who played the central character. They enjoy the sight of a man dying as it if was a wedding. It's just pure hypocrisy."

Hawke wanted to retort with something, more of a simple question that had to do with hypocrisy. Weren't those bad people just as bad as any dangerous and ill-intentioned mage? Why did they have to be imprisoned since birth, but ordinary men only met it, or the end of the dagger, once they proved their danger graphically? It was the same kind of danger and the same potential, the same result, but through different means.

Hawke had been merciless for a long time, at least when it came to blood mages. It angered her that they stained her race and every day they made it harder for people to believe in mages. But the same went with any other cruel being.

She wondered if she was fooling herself in believing she could live in this city free of fear and eternal vigilance. The past year had been… very gentle on her. Compared to the usual horrific fiascos that haunted her life in Ferelden, at least this last year had been surprisingly peaceful and seemingly uneventful. Well, except for…

"Mojo, no!" she screamed after the mabari as he started peeing on the Chantry statues. "Well… have at it. Their god made you, why not show him His own creation?" she said in amusement and waited for the dog to finish his business.

She noticed the two dark-draped shadows in the distance a while back, but she decided to ignore them. She walked back to her estate as if nothing happened and inhaled heavily before opening the door.

Hawke's Estate

As she came in the hallway, two fully armoured and masked Templars waited in the main room with Varric in their hands and raised their palms in command at her. "I'm sorry, Hawke," Varric shouted in despair. "I'm so sorry!"

"Where's my mother!" Hawke screamed and tried to draw out her sword. Blasted. She didn't take the sword with her. She looked at them with murder in her eyes and commanded aggressively, "Answer me!"

The Templars drew out their swords and shields and starting approaching her, while still dragging Varric in front as a barrier.

"NO!" she howled assaultively. "You will not," she said firmly and drew out the fire from the fireplace to barricade herself, while they flew into a tornado around her and she started only faintly levitating, "have me!"

The flames encircled her and shots of electricity darted in and out without shooting at them yet. She started making a horrible sound and the floor quaked heavily beneath them as she pointed her hand at the ground. The throbbing and horror unbalanced everything and as the Templars and Varric approached her, Fenris and Aveline came from the right corner and Anders and Merrill from the right corner. As they ran to her and shout, two wall-doors opened in front of them and a terribly hideous shade came out of each and horrified them.

Everyone screamed and howled, jumping and ready to attack, until it occurred to them that the two shades were actually spitting well-made puppets that just fell face-down on the ground. Hawke's hideous demonic screaming started lowering down as the flames faded away from her and she finished in a very morbid, "Mwa-ha-ha-hah" as she came down to the floor. She smiled at everyone and gave another ironic "…Hah."

The Templars got their helmets out, revealing Isabela and Gamlen who looked excruciatingly terrified, as did everyone else who was frowning murderously at her. She knew about their master joke plan to scare the shit out of her for her name-day and cooked an equally horrific vengeful counter-surprise.

"Maker's bloody testicles, Hawke," Varric shouted as he breathed rapidly with a hand on his heart.

"You scared the BAGINGAS out of me, you crazy bitch," Isabela screamed and quickly sat down at the table, leaving Gamlen collapsed on the floor, either from the scare or the heavy armour.

"You all had it coming," Hawke said confidently as she grabbed a shade-puppet up and mocked them with it.

"I told you this was a viciously stupid idea!" Aveline screamed angrily at Varric.

"I thought the Dread Wolf actually took you," Merrill said as she hyperventilated and held onto Anders' robe. "Mythal…my legs are trembling more now than when I saw my first shade."

Anders was a bit trembling, but far less than laughing and enjoying the look on everybody else's face when Hawke played them so well. No doubt he thought their surprise plan was extremely impertinent and now they got a taste of their own medicine.

"I'm sorry for whoever was against this little act… but still took part," Hawke said confidently and grinned to no end. "Ah, now, anyone fancy a cup of tea?" she said nonchalantly as she helped Gamlen up.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Varric said grumpily. "Seems to be," he grimaced and coughed as he choked, "unhealthy."

"Happy... name-day," Aveline said awkwardly.

"Nobody takes me seriously... I warned you people," Hawke said firmly, ignoring Aveline. Then she sang childishly, "Nobody takes me seriously / Nobody likes you when you're twenty-free."

"23?" Varric asked and scowled. "I thought you were 21 a year ago."

"I returned one day before my name-day. Suck it, I was smart."

"Oh, this isn't over," Varric said in annoyance.

"I need to find Leandra," Gamlen muttered while still trembling, "and tell her that I love her."

After everybody cooled down…

"You actually got me presents… as if this charming stunt wasn't enough?" Hawke asked in amusement.

"We considered it a form of compensation for our impertinence," Varric said sweetly and beckoned her to open them up.

"Wait," Isabela said and approached her. "You have to guess which is from who."

Hawke sighed in annoyance. "My, what a challenge. You people sure know how to make things such fun," she muttered sarcastically.

She looked into each sack and caressed her maxillary as she examined the contents carefully.

" 'How to find your Glory Spot. Where no man has ever managed to reach'. I take it the inappropriate book is from…." Hawke said perceptively while looking at the pirate. "Not you."

"Darn," Isabela scowled. "I knew that it would seem too obvious."

"Aveline?" Hawke asked confidently and the woman nodded awkwardly. "Alright, then this hideous and revolting lace dress must be from Izzy."

"It's lace," Isabela said in annoyance, then winked. "You can never go wrong with lace."

"Neither can you go wrong with a fist in your face," Hawke rhymed sarcastically while smiling. "So… hmph. The little deer painting is Merrill's."

"I thought they looked so adorable - like ugly brown and furry hallas," Merrill said and smiled.

"I guess this other book is from Anders and this incredibly ugly magic hood is from … Justice," Hawke said sarcastically as she held up the hood with two fingers as it was a dead weasel. "Way to kill my fun, mage-lover."

"It comes with the incredibly ugly mage robes too," Anders said sarcastically.

"Thanks. Come to think of it, it will go really well on my new shade scarecrow. His name is Bill after all, you gotta give him at least a more intimidating look."

"And if you draw red lipstick on it, it will be the spitting image of you," Anders retorted joyfully.

Fenris watched Hawke in silence and felt his tension rising up. He had lost hours trying to think and find a present for her, and he thought if he got her something ridiculously stupid and then at the last minute give her the real... less stupid present, she would appreciate it more. But his tension was monstrous more from the thought that they had not seen each other at all since that one night and he had positively no clue how to act.

In the meantime, Hawke grimaced mockingly at Anders and picked up the book. "Alright… the book is from Varric. 'All Things Magic: What You Never Dared To Ask'" she sighed. "It's about me, isn't it?"

"Nope," Varric said sweetly. "It's about the magic adventures of an incredibly pretty apostate by the name of Jill de Bard Bibanka von Hawp. Nothing to do with you, Shade-Face."

Fenris burst into soft laughter and Hawke frowned at him. "What are you laughing at, Casper?"

"Who is… Casper?" he asked in amusement.

"If you don't know, I can't sit here for an eternity and explain," Hawke said and rolled her eyes. "Too many complex terms might make your white head blow up in a flock of a thousand little snowflakes."

"I think I liked you better when you were turning into an abomination," Fenris said sarcastically.

"It's never too late to admit it and join us in our freaks of nature club, Fenris," Hawke retorted sarcastically.

Fenris lifted his eyebrows innocently, "But then who will sit by and laugh at you while observing you in your natural habitat?"

"I'm guessing –"

Fenris interrupted her with mimicking a mouth with his hand. "See this," he gestured with the mouth-hand near his head and pressed his eyes closed. "This is just irritating noise to me, going swords-swords-swords-I-love-barking-howling-and-red-things-clown-clown-clown."

Hawke stuck her tongue out at him and then looked at the last item. "Then this leaves this uh… knob? ... to you, Fenris," she said awkwardly and raised an eyebrow.

"It's called the Magical Ball of Everyone's Fortune," he said nonchalantly and grinned in his chair.

"I'm afraid to ask but, how does it work?" she asked and rolled her eyes.

He smirked as he got up and approached her. He took the ball out of her hand and gestured, as Hawke frowned murderously at him. "You just wrap it around your head," he said and only gestured with his hand, "And then you shut up for eternity."

"…And then she ripped his head off," Varric whispered in storytelling mode.

To their surprise, Hawke burst into laughter and held onto his shoulder for balance. "Good one, but seriously, where's my real gift?"

"This is it," Fenris said flatly as he grinned.

Hawke stopped her laughing and started to frown. "Really? Then why don't you be the first to give it a test run," she said firmly and shoved the ball in his mouth.

A few hours and stopped counting at four bottles of liquor later…

"Another round?" Isabela asked eagerly.

"You finished the last bottle already?" Hawke asked drunkenly in her chair.

"Another round at Truth or Dare. And yeah, the bottle's going empty soon," Isabela said joyfully. "Boy, Kitten is waaay down," she said as she looked at a tightly sleeping Merrill curled up in an armchair. Anders left because Justice kept popping up and telling them that alcohol was bad and they shouldn't make Anders drink it anymore and Aveline left after a while as well because she had to get up in the morning for duty.

Hawke swayed her head and caught the look of Fenris who was sitting in front of her. She inhaled forcefully and asked in a sweet drunken voice, "Where's my baby?"

In his besotted state, he felt very relaxed and taken, so he was about to respond with 'here', but thank the gods for Varric who outraced him. "Your baby's right here, Madam."

"Not you, Varric," Hawke said drunkenly. "But you're a sweetheart, … sweet-, sweet-…"

"…Varric?" the dwarf finished her sentence.

"Cheeks!" Hawke shouted and swayed her head again. "Where's my bottle?"

"Here," Fenris said in a hoarse voice and gave it to her.

"Enough! Truth or dare Hawke," Isabela said commandingly.

Hawke rolled her eyes and looked up. "Dare. No wait! You've far grotesque taste for my idea… idea for my taste. Whatever. Truth!"

"No backsies," Isabela said firmly.

"Please don't make me put on that stupid dress," Hawke cried impatiently.

"Oh, fine, I'll sex it down this time…" Isabela thought. "Now here's something I've always wondered. Find out the colour of Fen's underclothes."

Hawke looked unperturbed and turned her head to Fenris. She splashed a shot of fire at him without it actually reaching him. As he flew sideways to avoid the immediately disappearing fire, she quickly tackled him and landed on top of him. She immobilized him as he tried to get up, but then she said, "Wait, I know that one. It's 'none'."

"Woah, how would you know that?" Varric asked in suspicion.

Her head swayed and she had a drunken smile. "I grabbed his butt."

"And he let you? Lucky bitch," Isabela said in amazement. "Why don't you let me do that, Fen?"

"For starters, because you call me 'Fen'," he said grumpily on the ground.

"Don't sweat it Izzy, there's nothing much to it," Hawke said and smiled, then burst into childish laughter. "Literally."

"Get – off," Fenris growled at Hawke.

"Flat – butt," she said childishly, then got off of him and sat back in her chair. "Alright, truth or dare, Varric."

"Tr- Dare," he said quickly.

"Give me the little Antivan brandy bottle you've been hiding in your jacket," she said cunningly.

Varric sighed and reached into his jacket. "Fine. But it's only because this is your special day. You're cut off from this poison of damned souls for eternity from now on."

"We'll discover that next year," she said firmly and opened the bottle.

"Elf?" Varric called, while turning his head to Fenris, who was dangling his head with dizziness as he sat back in his chair.

He brushed his forehead with his hand and inhaled wearily, "Truth."

"Do you have at least one really happy memory? If you do, what is it?" Varric asked cunningly.

"No doubt and precisely it was the time … Precisely …What did you ask me again?"

"Not about what time it is, precisely," Varric said sarcastically while laughing at his drunken state. "Tell me your happiest memory."

"Right, yes…" he frowned and remained lost in thought or he passed out with his eyes open. "Precisely it was the time…" He dozed off in graceful silence.

Varric chuckled like an old man at how the elf fell asleep right in the middle of his courteous sentence. "Precisely and no doubt it was the time, the time, precisely it was the time…" he imitated him childishly.

"Time to make coffee," Isabela said in amusement. "That's also my gift to you, Hawke. Special delivery from my mother country."

"You mean special delivery straight from the substance traffickers right in the Docks," Hawke said while smirking.

"A simple thank you would have sufficed, love," Isabela said while grinning. "Especially since I'm the only one who knows how to prepare it," she said assertively and got up.

"I wanna see that," Varric said eagerly and got up himself. "Hawke?"

Hawke was holding her head with her eyes closed in irritation. "Ok, sit tight, soldier. The magic beans are coming." He looked at Merrill. "Rivaini, how 'bout you carry Daisy to the guest bedroom?"

As they got into the kitchen and Isabela got out the beans and smashed them thoroughly on the piece of cloth, she asked him, "What's up with those two?"

"You mean Pixie and Dixie?" Varric asked charmingly.

"Let me guess, Dixie is Hawke, because she's a dick, and in fact, Pixie is Fenris."

"No, that's what I named my manbreasts," Varric said in amusement.

"Did you name every hair on your chest, too?" Isabela chuckled.

"There are not enough names in the world, my good woman…"

"But really… you lost the bet. That much is clear. I'm still full proof that she's gonna get the hots for Anders once she realizes she has to accept her magic and use it to do justice because of her weakness to always do the right thing and yadda, yadda. Yet, those two are so…"

"Weird? Insufferable? Totally nuts to the bone?"

"Defensive with each other. Like one second they're good ol' friends and it seems as if there's some weird telepathy between them, the other second they're competing for who has the bigger cock."

Varric burst into laughter, "Oh I really do wonder who has the bigger one."

"Oh, please," Isabela said while grinning. "Hawke's a scary little tomboy, but she's still a lady."

"Lady?" Varric asked in amusement. "You're drunk as a nug."

"Varric," Isabela smirked, "Let me ask you this. What makes Bianca a leady? Your Bianca, of course."

Varric cupped his maxillary and thought for a second, "Well that's easy – she's just the perfect and equal amount of part-graceful and part-bad to the bone, just for me, of course."

Isabela grinned. "Then here you have it."

Varric leaned on the table and eyed her insistently.

"Are you really wondering how coffee is made or are you sniffing up a bet again, old man?"

"A whole sovereign," Varric said charmingly. "That we'll find them both passed out in graceful, boring, non-sexual peace. I'm telling you, Hawke's not that kind of girl."

Isabela grinned, "Fine, lose your money. A whole sovereign it is – and my bet is that they're already going at each other. Dry humping, at least."

"You're on, Madam," Varric said firmly.

Meanwhile on the upper level…

Hawke opened her eyes after they left, as it was more painful when she could see only pitch-black and felt even more dizzy. She got up from her chair near the balustrade and walked into her room to get some spindleweed. Whatever that 'coffee' thing was, she didn't have the patience to sit and wait as the room spun around with her.

As she walked inside her room, a set of familiar hands got her by the shoulders and shoved her into the door. "I thought they'd never leave," he growled impatiently as he squeezed at her clothes and pushed her into the door.

"Fenri-," she tried to say but he started kissing her neck surprisingly slowly for the aggressive drunken state he was in. She inhaled deeply and looked up, biting at her lip so she wouldn't make any sounds. So…sooo many sounds. He went up and down her neck and at one point bit her so incredibly good that he put a hand over her mouth. Did he have to make things even bett- … worse… She felt him pressing against her and removed his hands from her mouth. "Fenris… they didn- ah," she gasped and gave a short moan as he bit her again, "leahhve."

"All I see is you," he said bluntly, his warm breath on her neck. He continued his maddening kisses and short bites on her ear. His hand held her so tightly at the back she almost couldn't breathe even without him teasing her to the point of screaming in pleasure.

She had to pull herself together. She looked away to the stairs to make sure Isabela and Varric weren't coming back yet. Her eyes were trying to go up and in the back of her head, as Fenris teased her so cruelly and effectively. Motherff- he grabbed her face quickly and turned it to look at him and he slammed his lips into hers. He tightened his grip and growled in pleasure as she kissed him back. She led him away from the door so she could close it shut, then she stopped them in place. She enjoyed the roaring heat and the pleasure of his incredibly insistent tongue for three more seconds as the room spun with her, then pushed him forcefully on the bed. She sat on top of him but didn't kiss him as he thought she would. Instead she grabbed the hand that was going for her face and looked at him with a serious face, "Fenris, we have to stop."

Fenris breathed ferociously as he eyed her with a lustful aggressive look. "I don't want to," he said with an unfaltering scowl and tried to lift himself up to reach her.

She stopped him by the shoulder, "Fenris," she said aggressively. "They can come back at any minute, they didn't actually leave the estate," she sighed and pressed her eyes tight, feeling the wondrously strong hard on that was bumping at and under her pants. "I am asking you nicely to stop before I punch you unconscious. You know I'm not afraid to do it."

He leaned up on his elbows and looked at her in silence as she eyed him insistently. He growled in annoyance, nostrils flaring and heavy breathing. "As you wish."

"Thank you," she said firmly, then grinned childishly. "You might wanna wait here for a few minutes before coming back out."

A few of those minutes later…

"I'm telling you, it was a mermaid. It had big luscious shell breasts and a long delicious little tail-"

"Shh," Varric whispered to Isabela as they went up the stairs with three goblets of coffee in their hands.

Hawke and Fenris were both dozed off in separate armchairs, in perfect, blissful sleepy delight.

"My money, Siren Pants," Varric said firmly.

"This isn't over," Isabela said in annoyance.

"Wake up, Sleepy Tough Pants you," Varric sang sweetly. "And elf."

"Mmm, coffee," Hawke said in a child-like voice. "Give," she muttered like a stoned primitive and stretched her arm out.

"Fen-Feeeeen," Isabela shouted in his ear and he opened his eyes quickly.

"Away with you, wench," he said angrily.

"I heard you the first nine times, I got the point. Coffee?" she asked while smiling.

"Oh… thank you," he said flatly.

"This shit tastes like… like…" Hawke said and scowled.

"Please don't say shit," Varric said and tensed up. "It's brown and I'm drunk."

"Paradise," Hawke finished with widened eyes.

"Wait, I didn't put your sugar in," Isabela said in annoyance.

Hawke flinched away and said in a paranoid-like voice. "No sugar, I hate sugar."

"Woah, fine, jeez," Isabela said with a raised eyebrow. "Fen?"

He didn't answer. He drank the coffee and made strange faces.

"Fenris?"

"Yes, Isabela?" he answered promptly with lifted, unimpressed eyebrows.

"Sugar?"

"No, thank you."

"You two are weird," Varric muttered grumpily. "How can you not like sugar with your drink?"

"Because it tastes like a fairy's butt," Hawke said drunkenly.

"Speaking from experience, Madam?" Varric asked sarcastically.

"Of course. I've been kissing your ass for years."

Isabela chuckled, "Truth or dare, Hawke."

"Dare!... Wait, NO! Not again. Fuck me," Hawke said in annoyance.

"I give the dare, not you, but you can hold me to that demand later," Isabela said charmingly. "Since you've been kissing Varric's ass for years now, how about you give the other end a try?"

Hawke raised an eyebrow, "You mean like – eww."

"His mouth, you dirty pervert," Isabela said ironically. "His charming storytelling lips."

Hawke stared blankly with an open mouth, as if she just realized something. "Hey, you're right. I never kissed the poor bastard."

"No need for such graphic displays of affection," Varric said awkwardly. "Bianca's gonna get jealous."

Fenris laughed softly, realizing just how misleading that could have sounded and Hawke picked right up on it. She got up and smiled "It's not technically cheating if you get it from a girl with the same name, is it? Nope, I don't think it is."

"Andraste's tits, damn you, Hawke," Varric said and scowled, trying to defend himself and sink lower into the chair, as if that would have made him disappear.

"Oh boohoo on the taken dwarf," she said in annoyance and caught his face still. "Come here you!" She gave him a powerful peck with an intended loud Muuuah and then shoved his face away. Varric remained stunned and pale with widened eyes and started blinking repeatedly.

"Did you slip me the tongue?!" Varric shouted in outrage.

"NO! That was the other Bianca trying to get past me," she said in amusement. "Hand on my heart!"

"You evil conniving minx of the unholy and dreaded undergods," Varric said angrily. "You-"

Then his train of frustrated insults stopped as he realized he tasted cider on Hawke's lips, which was what only Fenris had from all of them, because he was the only one who liked the half-sweet half-sour taste of steeped apples.