So now that we've settled, let's learn some lessons. Since drama, romance and humor made an appearance, I thought I'd honor them now with the last ingredient for scandal - wiseassery :D
Zevran had to go back to Denerim, all with apparently attending Bann Teagan's wedding with the Warden. He was getting married to a peasant girl from Redcliffe who they once helped to escape the village and hail to the capital during the Blight. They were, in a way, responsible for their random encounter in Denerim, so they were guests of double-honour at the happy celebration. The mystery with the helping Zevran was in a way, all clear now – Armand was supposed to flee Kirkwall with Dorian and they would reside in Amaranthine under the Warden's protection. The luckiest place an elf could settle in was surely there and as Zevran said it, he welcomed them there for a long time without asking for anything in return but Armand kept refusing until it was clear to him he had a good reason to ensure a happy and safe life. That reason was of course the same with tasting that fourth cup of coffee.
In light of this information, they were quick to give their proper goodbyes to one another, since their easiest way to get to Ferelden in time was by ship. Isabela was most annoyed. Her eyes sparkled with the idea to join them, but then her throat stiffened and she lowered her gaze with an air of sadness as she said she had affairs to handle elsewhere.
Out by the harbor where the ships waited, they took a moment to say those goodbyes. They turned their backs on the ship and glanced at the buildings with domed roofs and bell towers tumbled down the last of Antiva City's hill to the harbor where the torches turned beneath the ornamented arches of an arcade.
As they were walking towards the harbor, Hawke still remained to seem zealous and overjoyed.
"You are welcome to come, my dear, anytime," Zevran said to her with joy. "Well, except spring, summer and fall. Those are the busy travel work days." He sighed and smiled. "Ferelden does have its perks, all with getting stuck inside for some three-four months with snow up to your neck."
"This is the first time I talk about the weather and it's not all chitter-chatter," Hawke chuckled. "By the way, how is it for you to live in Winter Wonderland?"
"Well… for me? Quite alright," Zevran started, then gestured south, "For little Zevran, not so much. He is very big on honesty you see, and he doesn't like it when he appears to be lying – and of course he hates shrinking from the cold too. That's also a little problematic."
"How little?" Hawke mused as they walked.
"A little too much for you to take," Zevran winked devilishly.
Suddenly Hawke broke into contained little snorts, all more because she pictured Fenris for some cruelly dumb reason intervening with a cocky, "Oh, I'm sure she can take it" and then scratching the middle of his pants and adding with a sensual little smirk and a nonchalant shrug, "But she's more of a giver". For some other cruelly dumb reason, she was sure it would grow in his character to say it someday. She smiled a little inside, even though she didn't know why that would make her smile.
But snapping back to reality, Hawke pretended to be wounded by Zevran's witty comment and put a hand over her chest, "Oh, if only I were given a chance. Sadly, I have a very big and honest soul, which I hear is kind of a turn-off for you guys."
Zevran smirked and sized the hand on her chest. "Oh, yes, you have a very big and honestsoul, andno," he winked charmingly, "I assure you it is not a turn-off for us guys." Then he turned his head to the only straight man in the group –besides the spoken for Varric in love with a crossbow, which deemed fairly problematic in the roundness of things – that he could really ask to confirm, "Do you not agree, Fenris?"
He couldn't hate his name more now as he heard it.
There came an awkward head jerking on Fenris's part as his eyes flinched and his brows joined in a quick ashamed look, but not as awkward as his cheeks that grew evermore redder than Hawke's own radiant hair. He then coughed shortly and drawled, "She is a very honest soul."
"I was not asking about her honesty or her soul, big bad Fenris, Second King to all evasion," Zevran pressed with delight. He was the first king of evasion, probably – which meant, like any self-respecting king, that he was bound to feel terribly absolutist in showing his rivals where they could stick it. Strategic to no end, and which ever graceful talent, he could use a form of attack that they did not specialize in. A form of attack called swooping. Someone very wise in history said something about that, didn't they… Well, no name or person came to mind, but that bastard was very right.
Alas, Fenris stood corrected; he couldn't possibly hate his name more as he heard it the second time. Everyone was looking at him. Varric was giving a very evil risen eyebrow, potentially ever more ready to listen and remember for when he would put it on pen and paper and stamp to doom him for eternity in writing. Isabela was snorting – horrifically – and was perhaps indeed two of those snorts away from blasting her brains out into overjoyed kitty laughter (of which he wouldn't mind – the brain blasting anyway). Dorian was smiling – not grinning – perhaps in sympathy. Armand was nonchalant and appeared to not even listen to them as they walked, which he was grateful for. Hawke was the worst: she had her teeth out like a predator in the biggest most patient and joyful smile of them all. No, the worst would have been if added to that curiously feminine teeth-wide smile she would join her hands like a sweet little girl, all pushing her not so little chest in- and, out. Out of their curvy, very desirable proportions that were pleading and begging him to come and make sure they were just alright, like they were a cup –two cups – of strong delicious coffee, white and consequently stamped and going down with a cold because of the paleness of her nationality.
And so he managed to ruin the meaning and image of Armand's gesture in less than an hour... All while no even caring for it and being too busy wondering what it would be like if they were with Hawke and that pretty little dress all far away in Ferelden in times of cold winter.
Maker, he was going to hell.
As he snapped out and as his throat became ever more stiffened, in light of all this scenery that he resolved to overthink out of proportions, his voice came terribly hoarse and low in tone even as he tried to save it, "You do remind me of my friend Donnic's great nana. Although you still have both your legs."
Hawke broke into laughter and nodded in approval at his quick save. Zevran was disappointed. Everyone else was rolling their eyes. Armand laughed. It was a triumphant day for everyone.
"Well now, if that great nana is as feisty and hot as another great nana I one knew," Zevran saved it too, "You've got yourself a compliment, Hawke."
That great nana was terribly weeping somewhere far far away.
"I take what I can get," Hawke said joyfully. "It's hard to extrude compliments from him."
"And most times you don't even find the compliment in the giant battalion of clawing and thrashing from his muttering," Varric intervened while smirking, speaking from his own experience.
"Santa Madre, for shame!" Zevran exclaimed and raised his arms. "There is a serious shortage of fine bosoms in this world and it would be a terrible pity to damage yours!" He dismissed Fenris with his feisty driven hand. "For shame!"
"Oh dear, I think I stepped in something," Fenris said nonchalantly. He really did step in something.
"Ahah, at any rate," Zevran chuckled and waved with his palm at Hawke. "Until you find the time to visit, I shall first and foremost go straight to mi Cara and tell her all about you."
"Please don't," Hawke said to Zevran. "I mean I'm flattered that you deem me worthy to be told about, but… seeing as I hallucinated her once and ran for the hills to chase a ghost, I don't want her to think I'm a swooning fanatic all cheering and jumping like a psychotic bumble-bee at what a sweet delight she obviously is in my head." Sweet delight to snort and laugh to death if she ever found out.
"I will try," Zevran said with a smile. "But I cannot promise anything. After all, I can never really forget bosoms of such great importance. And no, do not go all accusations and disapproving looks on me!" He raised his wiseass index finger to match his confident grin. "What you did not get to hear yet is that I am quite the gentleman – in that I also manage to always remember and associate the name and the face with the legendary bosom." He winked. "This, I swear."
Indeed, someone in history was also crying from a faraway land from Zevran's comment.
"More so because you never did actually associate 'legendary' with 'bosom' more than twice in your life," Armand quickly ruined it.
"Well they did need to know that!" Zevran exclaimed and shot Armand a grumpy look.
"Well…" Hawke started and shrugged, "Goodie."
"Do not be grumpy, my dear," Zevran protested calmly. "It does not suit your lively face and those big radiant eyes."
"Oh, but my how my eyes look don't make much of a difference, do they?" Hawke muttered.
"I plead and beg for you to smile my dear," Zevran said charmingly. "In all seriousness, do smile."
Hawke gave Armand a look as if to question if he was serious. Armand confirmed with nodding his eyelids that he was indeed serious.
She rolled her eyes, tried to picture Zevran gagged and locked with a chastity belt and finally smiled. "Better now?"
"I am overjoyed and I figuratively swoon," Zevran praised charmingly.
"Great. I'm a joy of life I am," Hawke muttered in amusement.
"Ah, the modest sighs of one's despair," Zevran said with a sigh, "Truly you cannot be more unreasonable than life itself is."
"Yeah, life is unfair," Hawke shouted grumpily and while having unperturbed eyes, she quickly raised her arms above her head and snapped her fingers. "Olé!"
Zevran then broke into laughter and fell on the ground while holding his stomach.
"What got over him?" Varric asked with a risen eyebrow.
"I made an honest man out of him," Hawke said in victory.
A few minutes later
Beneath the last arch, for a moment, Zevran and Armand took Fenris by the side.
"Yes?" Fenris drawled as the two men cornered him with their peculiarly serious gazes.
"We have something for you," Armand stated like a general.
The rustling sound of the leaves and the birds flying away up above was the answer he gave them.
Not a man of unnecessary words himself, Armand undid something at the back of his neck and let loose a necklace out from beneath his coat. Fenris had already forgotten about that trinket, having only once spotted it around his neck in camp when he kept his vest wide open because of the heat from the fire pit. Even then, he didn't have much time to notice all with being too busy hating him in his mind that he was more muscular than he was.
He held the simple silver chain in his hand, leaving a small darker locket in the form of a narrow leaf to dangle in the air. He quickly raised a questioning eyebrow and gazed in confusion at a very serious-looking Armand.
"It's nothing, but consider it a thank you offering," Armand muttered with a slow nod. "And do not worry, we gave Hawke and Varric something too."
"… Alright," Fenris drawled and took the necklace in his hand.
"When you open it, you'll see that I put a thread of my luscious hair in it for safekeeping," Zevran chattered innocently. "You know, if you ever wish to remind yourself that you must really do something with that stubborn jerking of your bangs. That or simply to remember how awesome I am."
Fenris quickly shook his head and gave Zevran a look full of protest and disbelief as the elf was quickly moving his eyebrows up and down with a saucy grin.
"He's kidding," Armand quickly said with a ghost of smile.
"I hope," Fenris uttered calmly. He slowly lowered his gaze to the object in his hand and then looked back at him. "Does it do anything?
"If you're thinking runes of nature or fire or some other ancient abracadabra, then no," Zevran said rather calmly.
Armand gave the locket a simple look and raised his tired eyes back to Fenris. "I kept it with me for as long as I can remember. Whatever it does, it seems to have worked."
"Then why give it up?" Fenris demanded quietly.
The corner of Armand's lips extended only briefly and his eyelids fell halfway. "I don't need it anymore."
"Oh?" Fenris asked. He looked at again to study it and muttered unemotionally, "Is it some personal symbol of freedom?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Armand said firmly in his sharp tone. "Just keep it."
Fenris nodded knightly in acceptance. Then his right eye moved quickly to Zevran. "You said we."
"Did we?" Zevran asked playfully. "I don't quite remember."
"I'm sure," Fenris uttered with a smile. He had already gotten used to the elf's way of handling things.
"It is the royal we," Zevran tattled with a wink.
"Zev," Armand growled and gave him a look.
"What? You know I am not good with goodbyes," Zevran protested in a serious tone.
"Quit your yackety-yak and ask him your question," Armand commanded unemotionally.
Zevran raised an eyebrow as if he didn't know what he was talking about. Quickly something sparkled in his eye and he resumed, "Ah, yes. Dal vuoto, how I can forget!" He approached Fenris and coughed a bit awkwardly.
"You wish to give me kissing lessons too?" Fenris snarled in a bit of irriation.
"Not unless- OUCH," he quickly screamed and turned to Armand who probably pinched him from the back with all the relentlessness of his gauntlet. "Idiota, I was going to say not unless you wish mi Cara to harrow Hell over both of us all away from Ferelden. She will know it before I get to pull my pants up."
"Why would you need to pull your … pants up?" Fenris asked in confusion.
"I don't know how you do kissing, my friend, but when I do it they always come down," Zevran laughed joyfully. "Oh, but do not judge me so quickly," Zevran said and raised a flirtatious cocky eyebrow. "It is not I who does the-OUCH." He turned to Armand and gave him a murderous look.
Armand remained calm and shrugged with an air of innocence, "Time is running out."
"Life is pain and all, but I would appreciate it if at least my calendars were gentle," Zevran protested while rubbing his back. He turned back to Fenris and resumed calmly, "At any rate, I need to ask you a question that I feel would be dangerous to ask Hawke, all with being sure she will storm the city gates of Amaranthine soon enough now that my 'yackety-yak' mouth also gave her a welcome whenever."
"Alright…" Fenris nodded calmly, giving him permission to continue.
Zevran nodded back politely and resumed with a waving gesture, "I have forgotten about it entirely all with the escaping near death and Hawke getting lost in the city and with all the helpful speeches about love I have honored you with as a professional-"
"All the -speeches-, yes," Fenris corrected calmly.
Zevran chuckled and resolved to give him right, then continued, "-and so I forgot about your dwarven friend mentioning an…" his eyes became a bit darker and his brow arched up sharply, "… Anders."
From the very quick response of Fenris's eyes rolling and reaching the back of his head, Zevran nodded in empathy, "Ah, so 'tis true, it is that Anders."
"I can only assume from the scorn in your saying 'that Anders', that you know him rather well?" Fenris asked.
"I've always been held as a rather sympathetic and fortunate person," Zevran said calmly. "Which is why I equally cherish my luck that he is gone from my life as much as I pity that he fell into yours. All six feet of bull that he is."
Fenris broke into laughter for a moment. It startled Zevran. Then his amused face quickly died and he raised a questioning eyebrow, "You are not just being dramatically funny, are you?"
"Unfortunately, this time I am not," Zevran sighed. He waved a dismissive hand. "He is an evil little fiend, and while I quite frankly do not waste time despising people, this one really begged for it."
Fenris chuckled again and said, "I am beginning to think his leaving the Wardens was involuntary."
"It can be argued. It is a long story. But even so, he was lucky. I was close to viciously beat the crap out of him at the time. Fortunate for him, that I am such a gentleman," Zevran said with a hand over his heart.
"I am familiar with that honorable abstinence," Fenris agreed calmly.
"Well, now," Zevran said in curiosity, "I cannot imagine how or why he decided to be a pain in your ass."
"However shockingly, it wasn't voluntary," Fenris said calmly, shaking his head. He crossed his arms and asked, "But why would he get on your nerves? You don't seem the kind to pay heed to such things, as you said."
Zevran rolled his eyes, "Tsk. Why do you think?" He crossed his arms and scowled. "I'll give you a good guess."
"I am terrible at guessing," Fenris said calmly.
Armand finally intervened with rolling his own eyes, "What is the only thing in the world that can make Zevran storm the gates of the Dark City itself for with all the viciousness and cruelty of a crazed serial killer?"
"I'm sensing that's a rhetorical question," Fenris drawled with a risen eyebrow.
"And much redundant," Zevran pressed with an annoyed scowl. Fenris didn't say anything, so Zevran sighed and waved his hand in irritation, "Cara."
Fenris was about to say something, but Zevran stopped him with unyielding annoyance, "And do not play fool and say you do not know what cara means." To that, Fenris raised an eyebrow and Zevran closed his eyes while shrugging very innocently, "It is an insult to me."
He seemed serious. "Did he do something to her?" Fenris asked.
"I didn't let him have the chance," Zevran growled in annoyance. "Ah, he abused of his rank and her friendship enough as it is. But even so, it matters little now for me. Pay no heed to my irritation."
"You had a question… about an hour ago," Fenris said in amusement.
"How true," Armand said with a little smile.
"How true indeed," Zevran confessed and looked down. "I want to ask you how he is doing."
"Do you frequently take interest in the health of the ones you despise?" Fenris asked a bit mockingly.
"Hm. I did say my mind goes more often than not into the land of planning writhing and agonizing deaths for my enemies," Zevran mused, coming back only briefly to a joyful attitude. Slowly he became serious again and asked, "My question pertains to what he is doing there, what his intentions are. And more importantly, what is he now?"
Then the meaning finally arrived in Fenris's sanctum of reason. He lowered his gaze and sighed, "Ah, you mean the merging with the spirit part." He crossed his arms defensively. "I will have to disappoint you. I know little about what he is, although I strongly wager that what he calls himself ," he gestured mocking quotation marks, "spirit healer, is just a fancied up term for abomination."
"What does Hawke think?" Zevran pleaded in a bit of a heightened tone. "I mean, she is a –"
Fenris raised his palm to stop him and articulated quietly, "Keep your voice down when you associate her name with the next thing you were going to say. She's not a common whatshername back home anymore and it's dangerous even in these parts to speak about it."
"Forgive me. You are most reasonable," Zevran agreed chivalrously. "And see," he chuckled and gestured, "that right there is what a truthful helping hand is. I don't think our lessons were necessary."
"No, I suspect it was purely for your entertainment, all with laughing at the clueless escaped slave in love," Fenris snarled grumpily while crossing his arms and leaning with his back on the wall. Good thing that he did lean on something, because he quickly stiffened as he realized the last words he had muttered. Kaffa was the shortest and most articulate curse his faltering mind could come up with.
Zevran chuckled and raised a triumphant eyebrow, "You said it, not us."
Quickly killing the next thought in his mind, Fenris resolved to go back to their original point. He waved his hand in his crossed-arms posture as he explained, "We had a discussion over it once. I remember her saying that there are no records of mages coalescing with spirits, and therefore it is presumed that there have hardly been any incidents like this in history –because spirits are opposed to leaving the Fade and Justice was, in turn, cast out of it by some possessed-mage-soul-abomination-," he pressed his lips, "whatever."
"I know this part too, but one could only wonder," Zevran said a bit in sorrow. His gaze lowered as if he remembered something and tried to hold the memory. "I knew a very good woman once. Know, but we do not get to see her very often now. Her name is Wynne."
"I know that name," Fenris said quickly, but took a moment to remember where he had heard it. "She was with you when you defeated the Blight."
"Yes, she was, on the tower itself when the Archdemon fell. Her courage and dedication were… simply put, unfaltering and eternal," Zevran said in warm voice. "And her bosom, even more."
"Does her bosom have anything to do with this story?" Fenris demanded while rolling his eyes.
"No, no, not really," Zevran said with a smile. "I will stick to what's important. Even if her bosom is also of grand importance."
"Do go on," Fenris said. "With the story."
"Well you see, when the Circle fell and we came to save it, she died trying to defend the apprentices. Or so she said, anyway," Zevran explained. Fenris frowned a bit and continued listening, "And once she told us that a Spirit of Faith was what saved her. That it simply entered her body, enveloped her in a warming light and she started feeling the cold hard ground again in less than a second. And so, even if she never really stated it as such, it was testament that her time was not done and her duty was to save the Circle and help us with the Blight."
"And?" Fenris asked, a bit interested now.
"And so she did. With a lot of faith that we would bring the darkspawn to their knees," Zevran said joyfully, remembering, but then he dismissively gestured, "Not some idiotic blind faith of course. She gave us strength and faith from her years. She was very wise, and very beautiful for her age."
"Sticking to the story," Armand intervened with a little smile.
"Thank you ever so much for keeping me focused, Armand," Zevran said calmly. "And so, well, it never occurred to me to think that something was wrong. That what happened was unnatural or evil. And it was not!" Zevran exclaimed seriously. "It is different though, because that is much more miraculous – a spirit that deliberately came for her rescue. I think that's what made her uncorrupted by it. She did not say anything about the spirit talking in her head or some other sorcery."
"That is not the case with this one," Fenris protested with discomfort, uncrossing his arms. "He says it talks in his head. Or they are only one now, or," he dismissed with his palm in anoyance, "whatever."
"Sad, is it not?" Zevran said with half-lidded sorrowful eyes. "Wynne said she was an abomination living on 'borrowed time' to help us." He pressed his eyes and snapped out of his trance. "What does he do?"
"He treats people in an underground clinic," Fenris said, and with a bit discomfort, he added, "For free."
"Well, now," Zevran said with a rapid scowl. "That is quite uncharacteristic of him. No, that is completely ridiculous."
"Why?" Fenris asked in confusion.
"Because he was nothing more than a big selfish scoundrel as I remember him. And lucky, like me, to escape the ones that were after him," Zevran said despicably. He shrugged with his arms crossed, "I know the type."
"Well you seem to be quite the honest good-doer these days," Fenris gestured towards him in a half-mocking tone, quickly thereafter feeling like hitting himself in the head for appearing to defend Anders.
"Ah, well, I am good at heart," Zevran protested and shrugged. "Surely you can appreciate the difference."
"Surely I can appreciate some light over what your question really is," Fenris pressed.
"I don't quite know, to be honest," Zevran confessed. "I mean, surely what I know is that I never wish to have anything to do with him again. You know, never see him again," he pressed, pertaining to his wife. "She had enough trouble at his doing."
"What did he do?" Fenris demanded.
"A Templar infiltrated the Wardens in their ranks and sought to arrest him for being an abomination. He said that the Wardens agreed upon it." Then he sighed. "Sadly, that piece of news did not arrive to the ears of her authority."
"I'm beginning to sense this is going nowhere pleasant," Fenris muttered.
"She was all in favor to defend him, of course," Zevran said with a bit of scorn in the last part. "But instead of listening to her and end the thing peacefully, he and that all-knowing soooo righteous spirit decided it was indeed, time to take," he gestured mocking quotation marks, "justice, in their hands." Zevran then shook his head and sighed in exasperation. "He killed the Templar and the Wardens. It was very ugly afterwards. He fled the Keep and left her with all the pointing fingers."
"…What a shithead," Fenris articulated in surprise. The term he used just as much surprised the men.
Zevran quickly chuckled and waved his palm, "I never do with calling people this – for obvious reasons – but he does deserve all the fullness of scorn in being called whoreson."
"I am inclined to agree," Fenris muttered with a crooked smile. "Fortunately for my nerves, I am already used to him. He began to work with us about the same time when I joined Hawke and Varric."
"They are friends?" Zevran demanded with a bit of disgust. "Oh, no, please do not tell me he manipulates her too."
"Manipulates?" Fenris asked in surprise, frowning urgently. "I would not call whining and rambling in tones of a strangled soprano," he gestured mockingly, "about mages deserving to be free to a yawning Hawke, well, successful manipulation, to say the least."
Zevran started laughing with joy at his mockery and joined his palms, "I knew I adored you! Now I adore you even more!"
"Adore me some more with telling me if I should be worried," Fenris pressed in alarm.
"Well… you said something about the cheering for the liberation of mages, did you not?" Zevran asked while cupping his chin. "A scumbag apostate and manipulative son of a bitch possessed by a crazy spirit of justice and a hungry force for vengeance. Now you can appreciate the redundancy in the expression 'You can put two and two together'."
"Well… Santa Madre…" Fenris muttered with scorn, and came up from leaning against the wall.
"Bastardo," Zevran articulated with narrowed eyes.
"You think he has a hidden agenda?" Fenris asked urgently.
"No. Yes. Well," Zevran tattled, crossing his arms. "Keep an eye on him."
"You don't have to tell me twice," Fenris said firmly. He looked back to the harbor at Hawke who was laughing in joy with the others. Then he turned his head back to Zevran. "You have to tell her."
"Well, she is a –" Zevran stopped and nodded with pressed lips to deem the next term as self-explanatory. "So you should start praying he will not convince her to do something stupid." He sighed, "After all, I was very serious when I told her that she could rule the world if she so wished. She could outmaneuver entire armies if she so wished. She is the same as my darling wife in this respect."
"Well, how very fortunate for everyone that they lack the desire to abuse of their strength," Fenris said honestly.
"People and love are afraid of change, more than they are of their destruction. But both can also be very courageous in welcoming change when their needs take an unexpected toll. So in that respect, do not forget which you wish to savor. If you want it to last, or you want to destroy it. Change is not always a good thing," Zevran said very seriously. "Sometimes it is unfortunately necessary."
"A necessary evil?" Fenris asked perceptively. He snorted heavily, "Ptfeh. You are stretching this philosophy. If we bring your point back to our little abominable 'friend', this sounds as if he could become an activist once and a legend thrice. Forgive me if I don't foresee him having a legendary future."
"By healing gutter tramps in an underground clinic? No," Zevran nodded with a grin. "By abusing of the wealth, influence and compassion of a praiseworthy friend… You may want to tie and gag him now even if this idea has not yet tickled his scurvy little mind."
"She is not that wealthy and influent," Fenris said in a bit of relief. "Her compassion, well," he jerked his eyebrows and lowered his gaze, "We should feel grateful that she is utterly divorced from magic, even with her compassion."
"It is good to have a moderate, balanced conception of things," Zevran said with a smile. "It is also good to be tied down to a higher duty, as not to feel too driven and free to do as that compassionate heart pleases." He lowered his gaze and smiled. "If not for being Commander of the Grey, one could only imagine what sort of wonders this impossible little woman could do." He shook his head and stared in blank, "Storming a tower full of abominations and blood mages, and oh, such butt-ugly demons," he laughed, "She would have done it with her eyes closed and her hands tied. And without being arguably forced into it because of requiring help from all over the nation. BUT, it was her duty. It was good."
"Well… I promise I will remain alarmed until she joins the Guard or something to justify her actions," Fenris replied a bit insipidly.
"No, my friend, do not be so alarmed," Zevran said with a tranquil little smile. "Like I said, we do good when it needs to be done. We do not search for it, to feel like some dignified saints. We are simply found by evil and in that moment only do we make it our duty to fight it. I do not think Hawke would mean to start anything, be it good or evil."
"How very true," Fenris agreed calmly.
"Well then," Zevran inhaled heavily, then straightened up like a knight. He took an honoring bow and nodded with his eyelids, "It was a pleasure to meet you and get your help. And be saved by you. Twice, if I recall. I always seem to forget these things," he said innocently and then his voice became macabre, "Not as much as I recall exactly how many people I kill."
As Fenris raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his dramatic line, Zevran smirked innocently, "I compete for points, you see."
Fenris chuckled and nodded for a goodbye, then Zevran turned, but gave him another quick wink, "Do try not to fall into a trap," he said; only after added, "Or learn to wear boots. I hear the fashion now is blue and red velvet with peacock trinkets."
"Z- Zevran," Fenris drawled.
"Zev," he said. "Please. I am Zev to my friends," he said as he turned around.
"R-right," Fenris said and coughed shortly. He nodded in chivalry, "Benevis fedari, Zev. May the ground rise to meet your feet."
"Si vive una volta sola, ma se lo fai bene, una volta è sufficiente," Zevran uttered in a proud voice. "You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough." He then went down the path for the harbor to join the others. Armand remained still.
Fenris looked at him and was a bit faltered with questioning. Armand looked as much tranquil as he did zealous, with a curious air of compassion or warmth refracting out through the cracks of his indomitable expression. He stood with his arms crossed and shared their look for a moment.
"You wish to ask me something too?" Fenris asked calmly, not in the mood anymore to crack some joke up about performing surveys or inane prodding. He owed a lot to this man and though he wouldn't admit it, Fenris was a bit anguished and remorseful with the thought that they would probably never meet again.
"I told you I had Lesson no.2 for the little bitch to go forth with stepping on the higher ranks of happy bitch," Armand said with a taunting grin which only made his sharp tone more dominant now.
"You must have given my evil twin all the other happy-bitch lessons," Fenris mused with a little smirk.
"No, those were for stepping to the ranks of only bitch," Armand said sharply and jerked his head. "And they were in my charming friend's company, so we did not get anywhere much anyway."
"Do tell, Cupid," Fenris said with the fullness of an amused expression.
"Who?" Armand asked with a risen eyebrow.
"Your masters back in Vol Dorma have obviously not had a pointless soft spot for ancient heathen creeds and an even more annoying habit of rambling about it day and night. Sometimes, I truly wondered if I preferred the dungeon and shackles to that inane prattle," Fenris muttered bitterly. It was confusing, and most horrifying, that he felt at ease to joke with Armand about their plight. Perhaps because he understood, it didn't feel like it was such a crime to remember only for a second and treat it as if it were nothing.
Armand crossed his arms and grinned. "Do tell, Wiseassus Maximus."
"Cupid? Oh, some powerful desire demon, no doubt," Fenris quickly cut it. "One which happens to look completely undesirable."
Armand chuckled and sighed. "Alright. Lesson no.2, yes?"
"I am all pointy ears," Fenris growled with a smirk. Why did he feel so amused with himself all of a sudden? Was it because Armand was inarguably much stronger and wiser than him, thus he felt like a child? That this man was perfectly free now, and his tale was over. There was no more malice or discord to torture his life, and it appeared as though there was none of it in his soul either. So perhaps, on the contrary, his tale was only just beginning. The "happy-bitch" life; he had it all. Fenris resolved to dispatch all of this from his mind.
"When I gave you the first lesson, in camp all those days ago, I told you if it doesn't work, I will take issue to give you the second, yes?" Armand said.
"It hasn't worked, and you did," Fenris pressed redundantly.
Armand laughed. "Of course it hasn't worked. That's why I gave the bad lesson first."
"You did what?" Fenris almost shouted, anger painting all around his furrowed brows and the boiling vein on his forehead.
"You first had to see what you do not want to do," Armand said. He shrugged nonchalantly, "Without overdoing it of course. I am not an idiot and I am not evil."
"No, you're only a slightly bit evil," Fenris said, mirroring Armand's short and clever jokes which pertained that he was still an idiot.
"Oh, I'm so offended," Armand muttered with half-lidded eyes. "Notwithstanding, I first have to tell you something else."
Fenris crossed his arms. "Well, with my gross credulity at your words, you might just call me a dwarf and I'll nod in agreement and walk on my knees."
Armand laughed and startled him. "Now that would be an image – "
" – that is improbable to happen," Fenris pressed, so he wouldn't get any ideas. "Now that I no longer am overly open to conviction with you and your earthshattering suggestions."
"Oh, you will. Pay me heed," Armand pleaded confidently. "You will not be sorry."
Fenris snorted, "That's what Hawke told me before we entered the Bone Pit."
"You are alive," Armand rolled his eyes.
"Not the mine in Kirkwall. The luxury whorehouse here," Fenris articulated grumpily.
Armand snorted. "She took you to the Bone Pit?"
"She was hungry and it was late," Fenris said, all while trying not to smile.
"Alright," Armand chuckled hoarsely. "Well. Words seem to fail me now. It's most curious." He lowered his gaze and seemed to ponder or search for something in his mind. He pressed his eyes shortly thereafter and his face changed into very sharp and shrewd, with the fullness of dominance. "Breathe. Breathe a little and start enjoying your life. There will be time for horrors such as this that you witnessed with me. But you should not fear and worry in-between." Armand then gave him a very broad, illuminated and down-right startling smile. "Because your friends will be there for you. Your friends are there," he gestured towards the harbor, where Hawke was still laughing joyfully and clutching onto Varric's shoulder for balance as he was impersonating Senechal Bran and his pretentious little risen eyebrow. Fenris couldn't help but smile at the sight, before Armand snapped him out of that warm trance and caught his eyes, "They will be there to share your burden, as well as be there when time comes to battle your worst nightmare. They will always be there."
It then occurred to him that Armand was the only one who didn't seem alarmed when Zevran told the story of killing Pasquale. He was there with him, just as Zevran was in the catacombs, but he let his friend tell the story as if he were the only one there because he knew that Zevran liked telling stories and it would make it all the more dramatic and compelling when he told the dramatic speech about all the elves ready in the purgatory with spiked whips and thumbscrews waiting for Pasquale before he killed him. That was friendship, as he noticed, just as love was when he took that one sip of coffee to be sure it was alright.
"You just have to be there too, for that," Armand said firmly. He narrowed his eyes and heightened his face with half-lidded eyes to catch the image of his fellow escaped slave's understanding. "Are you friend enough for them to stay, Fenris?"
Fenris glanced at the harbor slowly and caught Hawke's eye as she was looking at him from a distance. She quickly smiled and waved, then stuck her tongue out at him. Tickled to death, that's how happy she looked when she did it. Ever more radiant she seemed, and joyful and ripe; cascade of red tumultuous hair and big, cheerful hazel eyes, testament to her dual colorful nature – and it had nothing to do with the dress. Immersed into that vault of heaven she exuded, Fenris didn't even notice he was smiling back; and a wide smile it was.
"Vivere è la cosa più rara al mondo. La maggior parte della gente esiste, ecco tutto," Armand finally said in a botched Antivan accent and snapped him out.
"Meaning?" Fenris demanded as though he hadn't made up at least part of it.
"To live is the rarest thing in the world," he said firmly, then sized Fenris up sharply, "Most people exist, that is all."
He looked again in the distance and pondered on it for a while. He hadn't felt like he did more than simply existing for a long time; this was very true. Twice he did feel he lived, and one of those times was still continuing today. And this second time it felt like he would crumble to the pits of the Void if it didn't last. He resolved it in his mind that somehow – however surprisingly optimistic of him, but not at all uncharacteristic to his dedication – he would make it last.
"And once the game is over, the king and the pawn go in the same box," Armand said and snapped him out of his trance again. "And you may automatically think I mean that your master or the humans are no better than you as an elf or an escaped slave, but," he stopped to catch his gaze and lock it there, "It also means you are no better than them if you lose yourself and treat the world, or yourself, with scorn."
"An interesting way to put it," Fenris commented and pondered on it. He coughed shortly. "You may be right."
"I am always right," Armand said while smirking arrogantly. He closed his eyes. "And you can hear Amore by the harbor giving me the finger now."
Fenris broke into laughter. It didn't startle the other anymore.
Then he looked as if he was pondering on something. "Hmm. Cara… Amore…" Fenris gestured almost philosophically and then he smiled as he muttered, "The pet names we gave to each other revolve around clown and troll mages for her and magic-fisting cockatoos and blue-glowing snowglobes for me."
"And you know why that is?" Armand asked sharply, catching Fenris's gaze with insistent eyes.
"We're… funny people?" Fenris muttered with an honestly nonchalant shrug.
The next thing in turn startled Fenris now, Armand laughing very loudly. A lot, and echoing up towards Kirkwall, with the strength and deepness of a bass, Armand laughed with joy and almost satanically, then finally finished with as his eyelids fell halfway and his laughs ended in a very sharp, mocking and disgustful, "Eeeghh."
Fenris didn't say anything, all too impressed and confused, and a bit frightened. The next thing startled him even more. Armand inhaled like a crazed bull and his sharp eyes narrowed as he approached him.
"Lesson no. 2," he uttered articulately in his walk. A bit unsettled, Fenris leaned on the wall because Armand didn't stop at the polite distance. As his back touched the wall, Armand rested his hand against it near Fenris's head and his dominant gaze locked onto him, all alight with the rays of the Sun arching past his red hair and his green eyes. Then, with all the abruptness and imperative of tone, Armand uttered the shortest and clearest sentence in history that did not need any over-openness for conviction, "Tell her how you feel."
Sunset, Ponte della Misericordia (Bridge of Mercy)
"Well, since you stand in the same bridge with one another, why don't you two just jump off," Varric's voice said sweetly.
Hawke broke into laughter, but before she could add some funny joke to her witty raised gesturing hand, something interrupted it.
"Oh, what a fine idea," came Fenris's voice melodically. He grabbed Hawke's hand all of a sudden and dragged her to the balustrade, to everyone's surprise. "What do you say?" He jerked his head and grinned widely, "Shall we do the dwarf a favor?"
Hawke didn't protest, instead cupped her chin and smiled fiendishly all with Fenris still holding her hand, "Hm. I do owe him a favor after dragging him to the catacombs, 'tis true."
"Are you kidding? Who's gonna drive the carriage when the horses are much more likely to throw me by the rope and into the evergreen forests?" Varric quickly shouted. "Isabela, Captain of the Two-Three Raindrops of the Only Slightly Moist Road-Dirt?"
"How sad," Hawke said while still smiling. "Perhaps she could make do with sailing with the carriage across the sea that your tears are going to make over losing us, yes?"
"Tears of laughter, I assure you," Varric said confidently and crossed his arms. "This is the most scandalizing image I have ever seen of you two in."
"I've seen worse," Isabela muttered with a risen eyebrow. Varric gave her a look of dismissal with his grimace, so she concluded it would be best not to assault Hawke and Fenris with the truth now that they were standing on the edge of a bridge. They might just jump before they confessed anything.
"You have three seconds to admit you can't live without us," Hawke said confidently. She squeezed Fenris's gauntlet and leaned shortly over the balustrade. "Three…"
"Quit it, Pantaloons," Varric muttered sharply.
"Two…" Fenris exclaimed all-devilish grinning.
"That includes you too, Sir Broodsalot," Varric growled with his arms crossed.
"One and a half, one and a quarter," Hawke said rapidly and they both bent strongly on the balustrade smiling at each other through their teeth.
Varric uncrossed and raised his arms and lowered his head. "Pfeww I take it back, I take it back, jeez. I can't live without you two! There." Then he stretched his arms and muttered, "Throw in a fuck you, too while I'm at this love declaration in the fluffy capital of romance and rainbows. NOW LET'S GET THE FLUFF OUT OF HERE."
"I suppose a heartbreaking scene where we all hug on the Bridge of Friendship is too much to ask, isn't it?" Hawke chuckled as she came with Fenris back at them.
"It's the Bridge of Mercy," Fenris corrected and rubbed his chin."Which is still very dramatic in itself, since we have subdued ourselves to Varric's."
"Yeah, you're at my mercy, bitches," Varric growled charmingly. "So if anyone fucks with me again and forces rainbows and unicorns out of my sparkly dwarven fairy self, you can take it shooting with sprinkles out of my fluffy dwarven ass when you give it a nice kissing," he said and gestured to his butt mockingly.
"Oh, not the sprinkles," Hawke gasped and put a hand over her heart. "We don't want that now, do we, Fenris?" she asked joyfully as he caught her gaze and smiled
"You can never take a dwarven fairy's words lightly when they're threatening with sprinkles," Fenris said calmly.
"Well then, I guess you can move your worthless asses to the carriage now and get the fuck out of here," Varric said with a charming wink.
"Did I hear right?" Hawke pretended to eavesdrop. "I don't think I heard it right, Fenris. Did you?"
"I am very certain he said 'the fluff out of here'," Fenris mused all-grinning.
The dwarf turned their back and walked as he uttered, "Aw, that's sweet – you two musing about two of the things that begin with the same letter," he turned his head and winked, "that both of you have absolutely no idea about," he finished firing back joyfully.
They would have protested, but, it began to occur to them a few seconds too late that the "absolutely no idea" part was more articulated by Varric not because he knew for fact that they were canoodling behind his back (which he didn't) or that they were some kind of utterly unemotional or purely chaste people, but because –as it turned out, Fenris and Hawke, all grinning in their glory... had absolutely no idea that they were still holding hands.
It was shorter, but I wanted it to end with this theme of friendship.