Hello again, goodbye again! Enjoy! Review!

2 days before departure for Antiva

Afternoon, Hawke's Estate

Hawke couldn't function. Her mind was mechanically going backwards and forwards through the span of recent events and she couldn't bear it. So she did what any reasonable abstinent warrior mage woman would do. She did anything else but.

She tried writing in her journal about some philosophical rant, but that quickly shifted her thoughts to Fenris, because he had become her dignified partner in dabbling through the absolute. She tried to train for a brief time with her sword, but that reminded her of a certain elven warrior who criticized her moves and every time she made a move she would stop suddenly because she could hear his deep but mellow voice saying 'Not like that…'. She tried reading a book she had not bought herself that was stuffed between her own in the library, called "Leather to Feather: Crossroads of Form". It was apparently about some nonsense of how a writer is inspired by other writers and give form to what others before him already shaped and some other hogwash. But it didn't work. Feathers, reading and writing was what stuck in her mind. It reminded her of Fenris. Then she tried painting, even though she swore she wouldn't paint until she got better tools from Antiva, but just as she tried to use three remaining colours in her toolset and draw a stupid tree, she started being enraged again. She only had white, black and green. It reminded her of Fenris.

She would not go out.

Lastly she tried to draw a bath and just sink in her frustration. She heated the water as much as she could so she would be in absolute pain when she entered. When that didn't work, she started singing in the bathtub, but quickly grew tired as she didn't seem to remember any song properly.

In a fit of blind rage, she felt like giving up, and then the door opened.

"Andraste's great flaming ass, who the hell are you?!" she screamed in panic as a young happy dwarf looked at her with a funny smile, seemingly unaffected by the sight of a naked woman in a bathtub and clearly in a lack of comprehension of the impropriety of his action.

"Not enchantment," the young dwarf said with a smile. And with that she recognized him right away. He was the odd, enchanter young boy of Bodhan, the merchant with a death-wish that accompanied her in the Deep Roads. He had a strange name like Boot or Shoelace or…

Sandal.

"I- ..what- .. GET OUT OF HERE!" she screamed in outrage.

Bodahn came in a rush and saw Sandal at the door. "There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you. Two minutes I look away and you're off to the Anderfels."

Hawke was getting up as the man came and he didn't seem to notice her at first. Then all hell broke loose.

"Oh my!" Bodahn shouted and quickly covered Sandal's eyes. "I'm so sorry, messere! I- Oh!" and then covered his eyes as well.

"Good," Hawke said in annoyance and rolled her eyes. "Now there are two blind lunatics standing in my way out."

Bodahn gave a nudge to Sandal and dragged him out of the bathroom, both with covered eyes still and they almost stumbled into each other and fell backwards.

She came out with a robe on and gave them a fiercely homicidal look. "State your business, Sir Dwarf."

"I- we-…" Bodahn stuttered courteously. "Your mother summoned my boy and me to handle her business and look after the estate during your future travel."

"She did wha- oh... And where is my dear sweet mother?" she asked sarcastically, since she wished her burning alive right now.

"In her room, messere. I – My honest apologies again for this outrageous discourtesy! You've seen my boy, he's a bit of a brave of wanderer, he is…Thank you saving him so long ago and I'm filled with honest joy that you've managed to find your way out of the Deep Roads, messere," Bodahn said in one harrowing breath.

"Can your boy do enchantments now?" Hawke asked cunningly.

"Y- yes, of course, anytime, anywhere. He's a miracle worker, my boy Sandal is," Bodahn said with an eager smile.

"Then I'll take that as an apology. Not free of charge of course, I will be paying you," Hawke said firmly. She tried not to burst into laughter. "You can uncover your eyes now, by the way."

Thank you for this distraction, as crazy and outrageous as it may be.

Afternoon, Fenris's Mansion

Fenris gazed upon the emptiness of his mansion, where red mushrooms were starting to grow impertinently fast and to such an extent that it felt more like a sickly and deathly little garden than a home.

Home… If this was his home, it was – it was good, but it didn't –

He walked in the hallway and looked at the painting that had fallen on the ground when she came in with him one very long night, a very long time ago now. It was a tragic depiction of people sinful people bathing in a lake of fire, on the island of some very smart demon which lured them to his cage, perhaps. Above that grotesque scenery, a different world stood. One of a white sky of ever falling snow and green, fruitful fields below the mountains, little houses scattered all over the wild place and two children were jumping or playing on a hill.

This was no Tevinter painter, of course. None would dare to depict to such a graphic extent the real horror of the underworld, the actual bargain that magisters made to augment their powers. It was too much a weakness to shape this reality outright, with the blunt truth.

But even so, it was a style that drew emotion so vividly well, both kindness, happiness, freedom and the deadly sins that were down below. The encasement of lost souls, crying and screaming in their silence while they burned in the lake of fire.

You could see the painting in two ways now : either that life was an illusion, and it was all the more easy to fall into hell when you let your guard down or simply when that perfect little scenery far above is not enough for you, that you need to dabble into the unknown until you break and get eaten by the tiger… Or in another way: blood, chains and suffering, an illusion of a lake of fire that you would not get out of because it was simply the only world you knew, with the happy, beautiful one hiding right above your head, that you didn't want to reach. You wouldn't even look up and see it was there. You couldn't – because you were trapped into a cage of your own doing, keeping your head and eyes down, like you were unworthy.

Such a thought, a place of hope, a promise of redemption great enough perhaps to welcome even him, who counted murders among his sins as numerous as any blood mage he so viciously despised.

Oh, indeed, this was very sweet, the picture of life beforehand or hereafter, depending how you looked upon it. The horrors of the natural world laid off upon a wise, but absent god, and the demons' folly rendered with such keen intelligence… because they prayed on the living, their hopes and their doubts, their harrowing desires and endless need of gratification.

He remembered Hawke's brave statement about him – that he was an innocent and one of the things that made him so was that he was absent of the need for illusions. But wasn't he living illusions right now? One of them was somehow, of course, his endless need to keep his head low and bathe in his own misery, while waiting… and getting frustrated of the delay of the hunters finding him. At the same time, he found relief in that delay, as well as perhaps needing this illusion that Hawke gave him – that he could be free, that he could speak and do, whatever he wanted to. It was part of the reason he hadn't left the city, even if it would have been so easy for him to do it. Now… and for a long time, he had to admit, it wasn't so easy… to just leave and be done with this place, in the same way he had done it so effortlessly before.

He was struggling with the awful fear in himself that he must, at the climax of his tale, disappoint himself and her, alike. They were dwelling into something they did not understand and the train of consequences that would follow… inevitable. And he had a strong presentiment that they weren't to be the good kind. Two things were awfully simple : One was that he saw the negative in everything. Two, - … two was that she made him feel whole, hopeful, liberated of his negativity… he struggled with the word, he hated those words…Happy.

Would that if it were true, would that all the poems and paintings in the world were but a mirror of such hopeful splendour?

It saddened him; it might have broken him down, the thought that one day, this fantasy life would be over once again. Although to be reasonable, she didn't expect anything from him. She was simple in her intents, either you do or you don't, either you're good or you're bad. If you weren't half as bad then maybe you will not be half as dead. You have few preconceptions, even with me, he said to her. In fact you astound me that you admit to such extraordinary simplicity.

Her voice resounded in his head, You and I are alike in this, we did not grow expecting much from others and the burden of conscience was private, terrible though it might be.

That it was… terrible. And she didn't deny that even with her bravery and impulsivity, even with the extraordinary reserve of energy that she had in finding the good in everything, she was still broken and haunted by her past and her actions. Yet that didn't slow her so much in doing things, as he did.

But I could ask you and you could ask me. It shouldn't be this hard, he remembered her say. Such simple clarity. We can find out together, she said. He pressed his eyes shut and walked away from the painting.

A single incident from his tale - one which to him had been a passing encounter, though he desired it to be a recurring one - loomed large for him beyond all the rest and locked itself in his thoughts. He couldn't get it out of his little head. He could not banish it for the love of h-… from his mind. That in a moment of complete honesty, he took his heart in his teeth and did exactly what he wanted – he kissed her, he had her there and she responded with the same amount of willingness and warmth he had never felt or seen before in two people, as if he was gazing from afar, his soul watched as they did it and knew from an instant how effortlessly simple and fitting it was.

Ah, such fancy, this madness, such fancy. He had not expected to be so hurt by anything in his tale. He had not expected this to make a burning in his chest, a tightness in his throat from which no words could escape. He couldn't ask her anything of her after that. Not even a lousy 'Could you pass me the pepper?' as he ate with her the morning after he name-day. He ate everything without so much as a condiment and kept his mouth shut.

But as he was drunk and he saw her go into her room, it felt so simple and found himself rising from his armchair and taking her into his arms with impatience. He couldn't believe his own earnestness, his own wild desperation as he went for her. He just wanted her and her alone, to be, to continue, to live. And if he could allow himself a bit of happiness and she welcomed his greedy desire to storm into her life and ruin it, in that moment, he accepted with no brooding thoughts.

But these thoughts were foolish and vain. His whole tale was foolish and vain, and yet he turned around and gazed at the painting again with different eyes and he wanted that hope and that freedom to choose.

Then he forced himself to look up at the crack in the ceiling, where the light was flooding the dark floor of the mansion.

His head swam. There was a war inside of him.

1 day before departure for Antiva

Afternoon, The Hanged Man

The last two days were so sodding strange, Varric couldn't help even for the shame of it, not to begin brooding. Neither Hawke, nor Fenris came to the Hanged Man as their daily routine taught them – come for tea in the morning or at noon, go and cause trouble somewhere, then come back at sunset for drinks and Wicked Grace. But nobody came even to check if he was still alive.

"Andraste's granny-panties, Varric, what's happened to you?" Isabela's voice disturbed his train of thought as she came in his room.

"What?" he simply asked, amazed at himself that he had no witty one-liner to give her.

"Either you're having a stroke or you're brooding," Isabela said with a half-sad face as she sat down. "Please tell me it's a stroke."

"Sorry to disappoint, Rivaini, but it appears I am indeed following in our angsty Tevinter friend's brooding footsteps," Varric said grumpily, playing with his dwarven pocket watch.

"Well, you're wasting time," Isabela said in annoyance. "What's on your mind anyway? Thinking of forgiving Bartrand?"

"Andraste's dimpled buttcheks, no! I'll put on a dress and dip myself in hot lava before I forgive that nug humping bastard."

"Then what is it?"

"Have you noticed something weird lately?"

Isabela rolled her eyes, "You'll have to be more specific. Everything with us is always so weird it's normal."

"Last few days, not necessarily weird, but different, mind you."

"The Hanged Man seems pretty empty now. There's no Hawke to set ruthless fire to the place or Broody to ice it up nicely and make us feel like we're in South Ferelden during the winter."

"Exactly," Varric said grumpily, intertwining his fingers.

"You think he didn't actually leave the place that morning and they locked themselves in that mansion and going at it day and night without a break?" Isabela asked in amusement. "I wouldn't go that far, even if they both have the… appropriate reserves for it as warriors."

"What did we each bet last time? I keep forgetting. We switched teams so much over the last year," Varric said with tired eyes.

"I think I bet that they were in the dry humping zone and you bet that they're dwelling in boring, sexless platonic camaraderie."

Varric frowned and pressed his eyes, "Right." He sighed. "I'm probably losing."

Isabela grinned. "Why are you so beaten up about it? Seems you're so concerned about Hawke's happiness at one second, then the next you're placing bets on them not doing anything. You're sending mixed signals,… kind of like how they're doing with each other."

"I don't know what I want," Varric said angrily like a child.

Isabela chuckled. "That's probably what they said."

"You're not helping , Rivaini," Varric said grumpily.

"Look. You clearly love Hawke. Let her do… whatever or whomever she wants to, let…," Isabela looked up and smiled. "Let her go!"

"I have to know," Varric said compulsively.

"Of course… you always have to know," Isabela said in an ironic voice. "Well, instead of moping here like a little bitch, how about we do something about it?"

"Such as?" Varric asked.

Isabela grinned. "For starters, go and see what they're doing. Seems reasonable enough a plan, no?"

Varric shook his head tiredly.

"What?" Isabela asked as she got up. "You're starting to depress me, Varric."

"I know. I'm shitting my pants at how I'm behaving. I kinda look like a little bitch, don't I?"

"Would it make you happier if we place a bet again?" Isabela asked in amusement.

"Sure."

"I bet that we'll find them, at either of their houses, having mindblowing hate-sex since last night because Hawke's too intense and persistent and Broody's too stubborn to just let go and," she chuckled, "release."

"Fine," Varric said grumpily. "I bet they're both in their separate homes doing nothing. Seems exactly the case every time."

"You're on, old man."

Late afternoon, Hawke's Estate

"So… he can do it anytime anywhere?" Isabela asked awkwardly.

"Yes, he's a genius, a miracle worker. I'm so excited, I'm thinking of trying to make him enchant a chair just to see what happens!" Hawke said eagerly with a big smile on her face as she played with Sandal's runes.

"Chair enchantment!" Sandal shouted eagerly.

"Right after you're done with putting that speed rune to my gauntlets, yes?"

Sandal turned sad and scratched his head. "Oh… no gauntlet… enchanted sword with speed rune."

"Ah, it's fine. The more attack speed I have the less I need gauntlets, right?" Hawke said with an excited smile.

"Right, well… anything else happening these days?" Varric asked awkwardly.

"Nope," Hawke said childishly. "Just a lot of dwarves coming to my house. Your friend from the Carta came by a few hours ago to tell me everything's up and ready for tomorrow."

"Oh, good," Varric said flatly. "Joy of joys, well… we're gonna go pack then. See you at 5."

"Later perpetrator," Hawke said childishly and waved at them without even looking, being much too immersed in Sandal's work.

Outside Hawke's Estate

"You look disappointed," Isabela said as she gave Varric the money.

"I'm angry … and disappointed," Varric said with amazement at himself.

"Well, I guess there's no point in going to see Broody now."

"I have to go take care of some business, Rivaini," Varric said. "Meet up later for Wicked Grace?

"If you don't come back by sunset, I'm going to be extremely busy with my head between Nora's legs."

"Right. Have at that. Too much info, even for me."

Fenris's Mansion

"Hello, Ciderboy," Varric said charmingly with a perfect mask of nonchalance.

"You wish something of me?" Fenris asked flatly with an unimpressed look.

"Just wondering what you've been doing in this empty house all by yourself. Am I disturbing something?" Varric said sweetly.

"Isn't it obvious? You're disturbing my dance routine," Fenris said sarcastically.

"Oh, don't stop on account of me. It's like I'm not even here," Varric said with a grin, leaning against the wall.

"So, just like usual," Fenris said grumpily and went back to his sword training.

Varric watched him slash and duck at shadows, as if the whole moves in his repertoire were totally changed. He exerted every move with grace, mind you, but in combat he had an aura of complete calmness which served him very well. At the moment however, there was supressed, calm rage with which he swung his sword. He suddenly felt uneasy, looking at him.

"So… angry at shadows much?" Varric asked awkwardly.

"Shadows take any face I want them to have," Fenris said flatly and slashed the air again with raging grace. "It is much easier to focus with precision this way."

"You know you really ought to take that offer elf," Varric said with concern.

Fenris ignored him and whirlwound with a scarry growl, then said in a nonchalant voice,"I don't need employment."

Varric frowned, "But it wouldn't kill you to make some friends in this town. Soon it's gonna be three years in this place and you're practically a ghost."

Fenris slashed the air with precision and ducked down as if a shadow was going at his throat. As he rose up he said in a flat, determined tone, "I prefer it that way."

Varric scratched his head and took a few seconds to let it sink in. He was right, it was better this way. The least he could do though, is come by his mansion once in a while and remind him there were some people who gave a damn about him. For all his flaws and problems, Fenris clung to a sense of honour Varric tried to as well, and it was more than enough for him. He almost got the shivers through his back, thinking how terrible it must be to be lost in the world, with nobody to love or damn you. And it was worse if you didn't have the courage to take a breath, look around and see that there were in fact people who welcomed him in their busy lives. Even if it was just him and Hawke, and maybe Aveline who really gave a damn about him, it was the same for each one of them. They didn't have really good friends that cared besides those one or two people. Their other companions were driven and set on their own selfish goals and made no space for them in their lives, not really. They conversed and worked together, Isabela, Anders, Merrill, but they weren't really involved in each other's lives. Perhaps keeping low was the best way to see who your real friends were.

"Healthy attitude there," Varric said patiently. "Forget I said anything."

"Already forgotten," Fenris said flatly without looking at him and keeping to his battle with the shadows.

Varric felt disappointed. He didn't know why, but he was. Grateful now that he had a revelation about who his friends were and that the elf was indeed, a true friend, but disappointed of everything else. He wasn't experienced in emotional exchanges of thoughts, serious business or anything of the sort. He was a man, after all. The most he could do is make a joke, and there were so many jokes about cider and apples going through his head, which didn't seem appropriate or funny anymore, now that he had that train of realizations. But he couldn't help but ask at least one simple question, "Have you seen Hawke these days?"

"No," Fenris said flatly without looking at him. "She wasn't with you?"

"Nope," Varric said sweetly and leaned forward away from the wall, since his back was getting stiff. "She's disappeared off the face of the earth."

Fenris flinched and stopped his sword at the sound of that sentence. Varric noticed and quickly corrected himself, "I mean she hasn't come to the Hanged Man. She didn't flee the city or anything, she's at her home."

"Then why the great concern?" Fenris asked nonchalantly, resuming his sword training.

"Just seemed weird that the same time she disappears you do, too," Varric said cunningly. "Thought something happened."

"Why would I have something to do with it?" Fenris asked nonchalantly. "There is nothing to us."

"I'm not implying there is, apart from maybe another barking war of 9:33 Dragon gone wrong perhaps," Varric said and chuckled. "Just found it curious, that's all. A funny coincidence."

"That's exactly what it is," Fenris muttered grumpily, whirldwinding again. "Fortunate coincidence."

"Well, just checking if you're alive and well. I need you strong and focused in about well, 12 hours."

"I'm alive," Fenris said flatly, swinging his sword forward as if he severed a being in half. "I will see you in twelve hours."

"Alright," Varric said and smiled. "I get your drift. I'll leave you to your ghost fight."

As he walked out of his room, Varric looked behind and watched the last glimpses of the whitehaired elf still exerting his moves with angry, silent grace. Much better than a dance routine, indeed, just not as cheerful. He started to feel a tightness in his throat, as if he suddenly caught some empathetic disease and he felt the elf's mysterious pain or realized just how shitty his life was before and unfortunately now, too, since he had no clue how to function in a free world, but still waiting to be hunted. Bah, he needed a drink. Or twenty.

4:30 in the morning, Hawke's Estate

"MOTHER WHERE DID YOU PUT MY CHESTPLATE?" Hawke screamed impatiently, running from room to room.

"Which one?" Leandra shouted from the other room.

"WHICH ONE, as if I have A THOUSAND. The one with the Griffon on it," Hawke shouted from afar, almost tumbling over Mojo, who was extremely disoriented and following his caretaker from room to room.

"It's near the fireplace, where you last put it, love," Leandra shouted back.

"You're absolutely POSITIVE that it's not in the laundry this time?" Hawke screamed.

"Remarkably positive, love!" Leandra said as she walked out of her room and stumbled into a crazed Hawke. "Did you pack enough underwear?"

Hawke stopped her rush. "I don't know."

Leandra smiled. "I got you new colourful ones from the market yesterday."

Hawke frowned at her. "Having rainbows in my pants is usually my first concern when ripping the insides out of a band of thugs on the green, lovely grass and under the blue, blue sky."

"I'll just put them in your pack, go get your stupid chestplate," Leandra said while shaking her head.

"Way ahead of you," Hawke said impatiently. She grabbed the underwear from her hands and hopped on the balustrade of the stairs, sliding down with ease.

As she put them in her pack and looked at the fireplace to search for the chestplate, she glanced for a second at the hallway by the main entrance and saw a whiteheaded figure staying on the bench. It didn't sink in at first as she resumed her rushed pace, but then her bell finally lit and she looked behind again.

"Fenris, you're here already," Hawke said in a bit of awkwardness, stumbling over the chestplate, which landed on her foot. "AH, motherfffff-"

Fenris got up and remained in the door way, "I said I would come early to escort you."

"Fenris! Just the man I've been looking for," Leandra said as she finished going down the stairs. "I have something for you."

"You do?" Hawke asked in confusion, and dropped her chestplate on her foot again. "AH FUCKING MOTHERFUCKER OF A THOUSAND FUCKS. Sorry Mother."

Leandra ignored her and came to Fenris, who looked positively austere and frightened.

"You look pale, what happened to you? Did you get a chance to eat?" Leandra asked in concern.

Fenris looked in different directions as he said, "No, I'm quite alright though, thank you."

Leandra sighed, "You are so frustrating sometimes. How can you not eat? Come in the kitchen right now."

"Don't listen to her," Hawke said quickly. "I can't get into my battle pants because of her."

"Well who told you to eat all the pudding?" Leandra asked and crossed her arms. "I simply put it there."

"You're evil and conniving, Mother. And you make the pudding so hauntingly delicious, who can say no to that? Away with you, wraith of the underworld!" Hawke said sarcastically.

Leandra raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "Anyway… come with me, Fenris."

Hawke rolled her eyes and kept packing, as Fenris followed Leandra to the kitchen. What did she have to give him anyway?

When they came back, she heard Fenris chuckle with Leandra over something. She pressed her lips in annoyance and ignored them.

"Are you done, love?" Leandra asked warmly.

"Quite finished, yes," Hawke said grumpily and turned around to look at them. "I guess this is goodbye." She walked over to her mother to give her a short hug.

"For now," Leandra pressed. "Don't make me worry again for nothing."

"You've got Sandal to keep you distracted once he figures out he can reach the chandelier."

"Maker's breath, don't even," Leandra said as she finished hugging her daughter. She saw Fenris watching curiously, then knightly looked away. "There's one for you, too, don't worry."

She came by him and Fenris swallowed heavily, as Leandra wrapped her arms around him and encaged him in a motherly hug. Hawke looked in amusement at how terrified he looked, not knowing quite what to do with his hands. He finally got the idea that he should place them on Leandra's back. "Don't get reckless out there, alright?"

"I will not," Fenris said knightly.

"I think she means don't let me get reckless," Hawke said nonchalantly as she put her pack on.

"That too," Leandra said warmly. "Maker knows Stubborn should have been your middle name."

Fenris chuckled. "I will make sure she's safe."

"Stubborn would have sounded lovely," Hawke said nonchalantly. "Much, much lovelier than," she cleared her throat and said in a mocking tone, "Bianca."

"Take care you two," Leandra said. "Be safe and for Maker's sake eat on the road."

"If he leaves me anything," Hawke said in amusement. "Sure, I'll try and really not get into my pants anymore."

"It's called meat," Leandra said in amusement. "You are what you eat."

"Goodbye, Mother. Take care and make sure Sandal doesn't set the house on fire. Bye bye Sandal, Bodhan."

"Goodbye and good luck on your travels, Serah Hawke and Serah Fenris," Bodhan said and took a bow. "Say goodbye to the lady and the gentleman, Sandal."

"Bye bye," Sandal said sweetly.

As they got to the first hallway, Fenris gave a short snort and seemed as if he was trying not to say something.

"What are you choking up about, Braveheart?" Hawke asked sarcastically.

"Fatty," Fenris said meanly.

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "I have a nice ass, look," She turned and mocked him. "Can you say the same about yourself?"

Fenris tried to ignore his impulse to either grab it or kick it, and chuckled, "It is quite nice. But you're still a big fatty."

"Piss off," Hawke said in annoyance.

4:45 in the morning, Kirkwall City Gates

Once they arrived and saw nobody and nothing waiting for them, Hawke let go of her pack, dropped her sword and sat on a rock. Fenris cursed in his mind that they either arrived early or the others were being late and looked in different directions, keeping his aura of nonchalance.

"Dwarven clocks… great precision," Hawke said sarcastically.

"Or dwarves themselves," Fenris said grumpily. "Did he ever arrive on time for something?"

"He didn't need to," she said while thinking about it. "We always went to him."

"Maybe we should change that," he said as he sat on a different rock at a reasonable, yet not grand distance from her.

"You know the Hero of Ferelden was in a great rush," she started calmly, "She managed to move her ass through all of Ferelden, going back and forth from one place to another, fighting other people's battles so they'd join her cause, preparing for the Landsmeet, fighting darkspawn on the way, she even let herself arrested for saving Loghain's daughter from being imprisoned. She managed to convince the nobles to fight for her cause, put her fellow Grey Warden on the throne and she still had the stamina and time to fight the Archdemon AND have the courtesy of not dying to it. All in like what? A year or so? Blights last decades and she did it in a year," she said with great pride on her face. "And here we are," she gestured, "going for a lousy trip to Antiva and it feels like we won't get there for years with our lousy companions."

"You really have an obsession with her," Fenris said perceptively. "It's either that or you have a questionable thing for elves," he said with a grin, but quickly regretted it.

Hawke smirked and caressed her maxillary. "I have a thing for people who get things done. Who do the right thing, who are brave and who don't mope around and wait for others to their dirty work in blissful ignorance."

Fenris rolled his eyes, "You could just be so yourself, instead of worshipping others who do," he said grumpily and gestured. "It certainly wouldn't hurt to try."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hawke said with a scowl. She didn't pick up on his subtly, but simply took it as an insult. "Somebody's being particularly mean today."

Fenris pressed his lips and looked away. "Nothing, don't mind me. I must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"So you're done calling me fat too?" Hawke deflected gracefully.

"Not a chance," Fenris said with a smirk.

"I thought as much," she said grumpily. "What did Mother give you?"

Fenris grinned and got up from the rock. "That's none of your business."

Hawke lifted her eyebrows. "Excuse me?" she scowled, "Somehow you get to gang up on me with all the people I love."

"Don't be so paranoid," Fenris said nonchalantly.

"I'm being realistic," Hawke pressed. "Or should I remind you what you lovely crazy people thought would be funny for my name-day."

"I did not think it would be funny," he retorted flatly.

"Well you certainly didn't oppose the ones who did," she said and chuckled.

Fenris laughed softly. "I did. I told them you would be enraged or at least fight back in an instant and kill them all by accident. But Varric pressed." He crossed his arms and looked away. "He said it was," he lifted his hand up from his crossed arms, "the ultimate punishment."

"Well, he got his ultimate punishment," Hawke said grumpily. "Oh the look on his face. I thought he was going to pee himself."

Fenris shook his head while still looking away, "You- you- … bah," he said and squeezed his crossed arms and kept shaking his head with a grumpy look.

"What? I what?" Hawke said while raised an eyebrow and leaning forward on the rock. "Come on, say it. I'm a what?"

He uncrossed his arms and looked at her angrily. "You scared the hell out of me."

Hawke laughed in delight, "Have you seen an abomination? They are u-gly. I'd rather be taken by the Templars."

"That does sound… reassuring," Fenris said flatly and looked away in hopes Varric and Isabela would come already. "If appearances is what you put such stock in."

"Of course," Hawke said ironically. "Look at me, I'm the ultimate diva. I would never mix blue with brown or yellow with green." She grabbed her throat mockingly. "You'll have to tie and gag me first."

Fenris felt his anger rising up from her jokes, even if they weren't directed at him. He wanted an answer for his frustration and she kept deflecting. But he couldn't assault her now, even if it was the best and probably only opportunity before taking off.

He pressed his lips in annoyance and changed the subject. "So tell me, how come you decided not to take the abomination with us? You seemed to press on the matter that he should come."

"I decided he wasn't fit for the cause," Hawke said calmly. "So I changed my mind."

"Oh? You changed your mind?" Fenris asked with a raised eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Does this one work any better?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Did you have a tough time thinking up that line? Must have been a long and lonely journey, that one thought."

Fenris grinned. "That's funny, Ms. Jesterpants. Did you also hear that one joke they don't tell to idiots?"

"No?" Hawke said in confusion.

Fenris smiled "Exactly."

"Good morning, ladies," Isabela said mockingly as she came with Varric from some bush behind.

Hawke looked behind in terror. "Please tell me this isn't what this looks like."

"If by that you mean it doesn't look like we just took a piss in the forest back to back, then no, this isn't what it looks like," Varric said sarcastically.

"Maker preserve us," Hawke said mockingly and shook her head.

"I heard bitching all the way from my bed, Hawke," Isabela said charmingly. "Did your mensies sync or something?"

"No, he was just telling me how much he loved me," Hawke said sarcastically. "Continue," she gestured to Fenris with an arrogant smirk.

"Right, yes," he said and coughed. "I can't put my feelings for you into words. I'd better show you."

Hawke widened her eyes, but he quickly gestured to the sky. "Count the stars, Hawke."

"It's kind of morning already, dumbass."

Fenris smirked. "Indeed."

"If I throw a stick, will you go away?" Hawke retorted meanly.

"OKAY, slow down, I'm getting dizzy and we're not even in the carriage yet," Varric intervened.

"Oh, this will be fun," Isabela laughed.

"Now again, what did my mother give you?" she repeated insistently.

Fenris chuckled. "That is classified information."

"You know I won't let this go, right?" she grinned, "I will find out somehow."

"I know." He gave her an evil grin and crossed his arms. "And I'm going to enjoy every bit of it."

"So fun," Varric said sarcastically while shaking his head.

"Dory!" Hawke shouted all of a sudden. "He-he-hey, I thought, however ironically, that you'd turn out to be the one riding us."

That elf.

"That's what I do on vacation. When I'm not riding fat greasy nobles, I get to ride beautiful women who can kill me in my sleep," the black-haired handsome elf said with a grin as he approached the group. "And stop calling me Dory."

"I'll stop if you tell me you're not the only one who's going to drive this carriage," Hawke said impatiently.

"Of course not," Dorian said happily. "Amadeo's on his way."

"Who?" Varric asked in confusion.

"Amadeo?" the elf said. "He's my Antivan … co-pilot, let's say."

"I know that guy," Isabela said with lifted eyebrows. "He used to work with Martin. Seriously cut-throat elf, that one."

"Another elf?" Fenris asked grumpily.

"Someone's being an ironic racist today," Dorian retorted in annoyance. "Don't worry, love, I'll pretend you're short and skinny because you're suffering from a horrible disease like the Black Death or the plague or … well, that certainly fits your murderous look, uh - Hawke, how have you been?"

"Don't mind him, Dory," Hawke said in amusement. "He's just not the frolicking type."

"If he's not the type to murder me in my sleep because I looked at him the wrong way, I'm good," the elf said with a grin.

Varric chuckled. "Don't worry, elf, if you piss him off his method of killing you is much less gory and much more… fistful."

Dorian shook his head. "I'm a whore and I still don't want to know what that means."

"Somebody order a long and boring ride to my mother country?" a very deep and cut-throat Antivan voice came from behind. Presumably Amadeo, a red-headed long-haired elf who was surprisingly hunky as Fenris, but his face was very pale and sculpture-like. His eyes were long and sharp, his nose was small and his lips were thin and rosy. Across his face, he had a long cut, which seemed an old scar. Yes, cut-throat was a very fitting term. He looked more nonchalant and dangerous than Fenris, or at least in a very different way. The kind that leaves you to rot in camp one day or sells you to the underworld raiders.

"Amadeo, I presume," Hawke said firmly and nodded.

"Correct, but call me Armand. I no longer hold my Antivan heritage dear to me," the elf said flatly and shook her hand firmly.

"So you decided one day to rinse yourself in flower and stop looking so Antivan, right?" Hawke said sarcastically.

"I do not joke, Serah," Armand said flatly.

"I don't either," Hawke said sarcastically. "Forgive me, sir, I'm a seriously misunderstood creature."

Armand narrowed his eyes. "You are Hawke. Yes, I see it now."

"You do?" Hawke asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Hair of blood, face of a child and a short mouth. I look forward to see you swing that big knife of yours in battle. There are some wild tales going on about you in every corner of Kirkwall."

Hawke frowned at Varric and he cleared his throat. "Most of them aren't true, Serah."

If he knew she was a mage, he was dead.

"So she does not have two sets of genitals in her pants?" Armand asked bluntly in that cut-throat voice of his.

"Oh, that one is true," Fenris intervened flatly. "But you may not want to bring it up, she feels very self-conscious about it."

"So that explains why you don't have an ass, Fenris," Hawke scowled at him. "I destroyed it with my monster cock."

Isabela burst into laughter along with Varric and the whore elf, but the two grumpy twins didn't seem to find it so funny.

"So fun," Isabela said in amusement. "I can't wait to get on the road."

"Those two are going to be best friends by the end of the day," Varric said in amusement about Fenris and the new flat-toned elf.

Everyone laughed, except for the grumpy twins again, but Hawke caught Fenris's wondering eye on her and he could have sworn she gave him a warm look, the one he only saw after he kissed her. This was going to be a long trip…

Thanks for reading :D slower chapter but the fun will now begin. And the drama... and impending smut coming. Oops, nope, I meant total sexless platonic camaraderie, yep, yep... you don't believe me, do you? Fine. Review and I'll make you happy!