Act 2 has begun. I am only slightly rushing through it, no boring quests except the very of course particular important ones. We're here and yay. Let's welcome Act 2 with the fun and drama that charges for Varric's birthday!

As of now, and especially in this chapter, I will put words of wisdom uttered by Varric. In chapters not dedicated to anyone, I'll put a line I think is memorable from any of them right at the start. Thank you for keeping up with me with so many chapters!

Let everything begin.

"Good friends nod and understand. Great friends don't take no for an answer." – Varric

"You're quickly getting on my nerves, elf," Varric pressed angrily as he dragged Fenris out of the Hanged Man in the deep cold night.

"Well, it's not as if I needed a ladder or anything," Fenris mumbled arrogantly, stumbling on his feet and deeply drunk.

"You're drunk," Varric said. "What a surprise, you've outdone me."

"Sad isn't it?" Fenris drawled and swayed on his feet.

"That you're both idiots?" Varric asked directly.

Fenris narrowed his eyes and took a step forward as he articulated, "You don't know us."

"Friend, you don't know a thing about a woman until she's drunk and mad at you," Varric pressed again angrily, pointing at him. "You've got your answer, now cool off."

"I must have blacked out when that answered arrived into the harbor of my reason," Fenris muttered rather calmly, looking up in the night sky and getting lost in it, about to fall.

"What the hell is going on in that little forsaken mind of yours?!" Varric shouted at Fenris and was about to hit him.

"Nothing," Fenris articulated flatly, trying to keep straight.

"Exactly, you are most right, Sir!" Varric exclaimed in anger. "Either quit your act or stay away from her, you hear me?" he shouted. "I don't want drama on my fucking name day. Is that clear?"

A few seconds passed, and Fenris finally curled his lips and nodded with a slight hint of irritation, "Affirmative."

"Good," Varric muttered with narrowed eyes. "You're my friends and my affection for you both stretches out of cosmic proportions, but this is ridiculous!"

"I know," Fenris answered quietly. "It is my fault. I will leave her be."

"Whatever you do, just don't screw this up. Not tonight, I mean…," Varric scratched his head and paused, looking away from him. "I've been cheering for you for as long as I can remember."

"Oh?" Fenris asked in surprise, leaning on the wall, half about to fall.

"Not the time for heartbreaking stories, elf," Varric said charmingly. "Come on, let's get you inside. And hands off the yahoo-juice."

"The what?" Fenris drawled as he stumbled into Varric.

He caught the elf in place and dragged him inside, "That."

Varric was a Leo, and even if she wasn't all that crazy about the ancient mathematics of the night sky, Hawke had learned it from her parents and it made a lot of sense. Leo was the sign of the patriarch and king, and in the same way people such as him exuded dignity and pride with their domain with a distinct, exquisite, most refined little grace, all while remaining the noblest and most modest of souls.

Whatever he considered his – his family, his immense business that made him richer and more influent than the very nobles of Kirkwall all while still remaining in the shadows, his follow-up success, moreover his friends and his home – he boldly protected. Even if his "Kingdom" was small and less than average in a way, he had a lot of power than even Hawke really knew about and he kept his fingers in a lot of pots all reserved and confident. He protected her in a way, with not telling her every little scheme and puppet strings he had in his midst. He presented it in the best of light however and he guarded his world ever more vigilantly – and this they all knew. You wanted to know something, you went straight to Varric. Not even the very Sun knew as much about what was happening over the world as Varric did, or at least as quickly as he did.

Although very sweet and graceful, this overdedication and protection Varric beheld with his tactful skills and refined talents, it made him look a bit territorial and possessive eve if he didn't always show it. No, he kept his mask of nonchalance with the best and comedy that did not usually offend anybody, in contrast with Hawke's rampant humour or the grumpy one of Fenris and really, all other people they worked with. Anders tried to be as charming as Varric but did not really manage it, all with the utterly short-tempered, downright irascible Justice that subdued and perhaps drowned the life out of him in a way or another. Honestly, they never could guess who drowned who first, who sucked the life out of whom first. It seemed at times, more often than not, this question was growing extremely tiring and it depressed the blazes out of everyone.

And there would always come Varric, ready and eager to snap everyone out of their misery and their brooding or exasperations. With a quick uttering of his charming little tongue, that didn't really lie at all to you, he calmed you down and made you swallow the Sun in its wholeness whenever you'd get out of the Hanged Man. A road to sighs, sometimes it seemed, when you parted with his company.

But his friends accepted Varric's "lordship" because they felt he was doing it from affectionate reasons and because he wanted the best for those closest to him. He accepted you, you accepted him. No more whining, signed and sealed in the contract of 8:34 Blessed.

Varric simply radiated a natural dignity, and it didn't take long for Hawke to respect him as he exuded his inner strength and self-confidence all the more quickly than she ever managed to. Yet in all that exquisite march of thunder that he rolled, he seemed the modest of souls, once you got to know him. And indeed, he was modest. Yes, sometimes he looked a bit too proud, but it was all in good reason when he did show it, and it made the others near him keep a distance from messing with him in this way.

Yes, in Varric lay a whole parchment of tales, the burned relics of the purest child at heart, and just as much he thrived aflame with the unbending charisma, sensuality and masculine fragrance of a well-evolved man.

And in his warm, most constant soul, there lay a man most evolved and kind-hearted. He was also very noble, and to Hawke he felt paternal. Benevolent feelings all galore of course, but mostly he did seem to leak this fatherly need to look after her and treat her with that respectful, yet teasing warmth an old man would direct at a young girl just freshly out in her first years of seeming maturity.

And if Hawke hadn't known this at first, she learned it either way very quickly – Varric was very loyal, just like a self-respecting, dedicated king did not abandon his kingdom and those he was responsible for. Indeed, he secretively took responsibility of her, and of others for that matter, even with his ever gleaming aura of self-assurance, content and nonchalance. For him every Tuesday was a good Tuesday. For you, when you were in his presence, every Tuesday was also a good Tuesday. Yes, and Varric tended to stick for the long run with Hawke, just as he stuck with people, with ideas and with projects (he was still pending with his last punishments for her that kept now very patiently, waiting, lurking, for the perfect time to use them, with most affectionate of course). In order for Varric to change his direction or loyalty, there needed something very serious to happen. Nothing that Hawke ever did seemed to be too much for him. Nothing that Fenris ever did, none of his cantankerous, grumpy or waspish attitudes affected him and he did not treat him with disrespect. He joked, Fenris joked back. Sometimes they grumped a bit if the joke felt too sore and they would just change the subject shortly and everything was fine.

That was the thing with Varric: he was the last person in the world to be discriminating and judgemental. Almost nothing unsettled him, and almost nothing made him hold a grudge on somebody, unless of course it was clear that they were "bad" and they did something "bad" to him or to his friends or family. That sufficed his approach to the world.

Of course he was a very open and direct person, even in all his evasions and his use of graceful technicalities as he played the world. But Hawke knew better than to believe this was everything to Varric. They lay in him a great and horrible tale, a sad lake of tears that he showed no soul and he would never do. Not so quickly anyway.

When Varric made a promise, he would keep it for eternity, even if it meant the death of him. That was loyalty and truly that was what his words were, even beyond the beauty of his bullshit and the subtle gentle entanglements of his radiant and rampant written and spoken words. It was a promise of friendship.

And there lay a promise in him to a girl, and this story was the one would never tell. Hawke of course, knew better than to ask. Varric also knew, they lay some terrible story in her as well, and he knew better than to push. They both knew that a great and most disturbing story lay in Fenris as well, although his was more evident, even if it was never told. His predicament was obvious. Hawke's predicament as almost as obvious. The last one to be obvious was consequently Varric.

But Varric was very affectionate, and he was lion-hearted in every sense of the word. His heart was ruled by a lot of strength and longing towards things that could make himself a better person. Surely, he thought there were things that were more important than money. Money for him was a means to control with ease whatever he wanted to control. But what he longed and strived for was purpose. His joy was one of taking actions. There was a lot of warmth, fun and enthusiasm coming from this well-rounded dwarf (no hidden scratch lurking in that).

And once Varric liked Hawke, he became really generous, playful and sincere with her, with no hidden agenda. Actually he had laid his cards out from the start with her, when he basically tackled her in the Merchant's Guild and splurged out all the details of his expedition and what she should do. Then, with no further ado, he glued himself to her and remained with her all the way to do her business and gather up the money. He even allowed her to wake him up during the night with absolutely no notice and she would bring him urgent matters.

And that was something that Varric loved Hawke for, and knew that had been hard for her at first (which he made his duty to quickly make it much easier): she did not know how to ask for help. Within a month, that little pseudo-independent flaw of hers was gone and he was the first one to know her needs and catch her smiles and the last one before going to bed. With Varric it was the easiest of intimacies when it came to friendship for Hawke. It was truly a joy and a laugh to be around him. With Fenris it was a little slower-growing friendship, but funny as it is, in a way he became way better friends with him much quicker than Hawke did with Fenris. At least in all consciousness, this was the case. Of course, they would have known that much clearer if Hawke hadn't fled Kirkwall just when all three of them really proved they were all friends. There came of course, half a year in which Varric was left only with Fenris, and sometimes Aveline to battle their wits and drink their sorrows and laugh until morning. And work too, that was also… something.

With Hawke, Varric felt it easier because their personalities were much more alike, their attitudes were colourful and bright when they were together (Hawke still looked the one to scare you shitless and leave you speechless otherwise and if she really wanted to). Fenris was perhaps in reverse – he didn't really wish to scare people shitless and look evermore the wild, untamed and extremely private, hateful and resentful elf, but he did anyway, and when he really wanted to, more often than not, he was a delight and a very funny guy. And that was something Varric quickly connected to and had enough time in those six months to form a bond that would not be under some displaced, mask of pretence in the shadow of Hawke who led them all.

Varric, in all his silence and secret, had helped both Hawke and Fenris separately to right the wrongs of their attitudes, their fears and feelings of inadequacy, and more often than not, he had managed to shape their contours like a painter did his figures, bearing in them all his emotion with the touch of a brush. The world saw the painted figures, their shells of colour, and with any luck, the world would also absorb and see the fullness of their character, their emotions and their thriving natures, the most of their potential and the wildest of their mind could go to. That was also why he loved to write stories, but also liked to tell them. He was the King of all that world, carefully constructing his characters in the image of what was already there, not changing much. He changed their names, their shells, their appearances and some of the details, but the true details that dictated the true tale – they were all there and only a clever eye just like him could spot that truly perfect creation through simple adaptation.

And in all honesty, Varric had helped them more than they would ever know or realize.

And that brings us to the last of this strong description that the author herself wants articulated and in tribute to him, gathering up the fullness of descriptive command in his honour:

What his soul held private, was that he wanted to feel respected and he had been searching for a long time in his secret loneliness, for someone who could make him in turn relax and laugh and who we could share his true wisdom with. Understand, laugh with them, instead of at them, inadvertently and all of a sudden. Because Maker be damned, he could find the fun in anything and that was not some simple, shallow thing. It was actually rooted in the soul, because funny things were "words of spirit". And laughter was the very orgasm of happiness in front of the Sun setting every night and rising again every morning.

Lastly, unbeknownst to many, the lion-heart that Varric was, in all truthfulness needed something very very dire: he needed to feel needed.

Now his name-day was here and Hawke was determined to make the best of it.

For this, this chapter will be all endowed with Varric's words of wisdom. Well, this and the next perhaps 'cause it's a lot happening.

Day of Kirkwall Arrival, Hightown Market

Fenris was not prepared to enjoy the irony of the next thing that he had done. He couldn't hate himself more as he realized, now faced with the entirety of old Kirkwall, that Hawke was in grave danger of self-destruction if she didn't sort the mess that made up her magic every time she wasted it all in urgencies and dire situations. When she said those few little words, he lost it. Ironically, he lost his temper but labored it into very good reason.

"Let's hope I won't ever have to heal or wave or blast anything that does not come out of something concrete and inflammable," Hawke said calmly as they walked up the stairs to the Market.

He truly hated that in all the tornado of his soul and all his fears and problems and feelings, in Fenris lay a logic most profound. He really, really hated it.

Her father was gone, and there was no mage to help Hawke. This was the reality that pressed hidden every day and Hawke resolved to utterly ignore for she had no wish to have part with magic anyway for the better half of all her life. But now it seemed much more than necessary, and her struggle alone was getting tiresome and dangerous.

And what mage in all of Kirkwall could have really helped her now without the slightest chance of getting caught? Who was there, existing in all their incredibly annoying wholeness of character… that would still hold her secret and equally give her a bit of security with her rapidly growing rampant and unsteady magic? The elven blood mage who was at best utterly credulous and at worst viciously stupid to play with demons and call them helpful spirits? Merrill was beyond hopelessness and never in her brightest hour would she have lived up to Hawke's principles and even to her power.

And, with all the screeching and irritating sound of that horrible noise he was soon about to say in his head… who was left to do something about it, to offer even the slightest of helpful gestures?

Who… He cursed himself and would not think his name.

Even if he truly despised that person and in his better days, he would suffice to say that he was utterly too insignificant for him to pay attention to… and despite the ever stronger warnings coming from Zevran… there was truly no hope for Hawke unless…

… that mage helped her. At least in fairness, and however ugly and nauseating it resounded in his mind… that mage was still divorced from blood magic and evil sorceries. That mage was an excellent healer and a fairly exquisite one in the specialty of creation and elemental magic… With only a rapid, soft bump of their stupid, evermore ugly staff, they gave the others speed and health and a protective aura and all those other necessary idiotic sorceries he himself needed, but couldn't get from him without diving in utter pain too?

That scumbag worthless bastard, was now – he hated himself so much – necessary to the tale.

"Fenris, WHAT THE F-"

With a drive to forget and get it over with, Fenris grabbed Hawke by the wrist ever more decisively, and dragged her forcefully all the way to Darktown.

"Let go or I kill you!" she cried.

"No," he said flatly.

When they reached Darktown, her mutterings and shouts were growing redundant.

"Fenris I swear-"

"This is just irritating noise to me."

"Why in the name of –"

He hated himself for saying the next words, and the overannoyance flashing out in his tone did not help him feel better about it, "You will thank me later."

When they reached the clinic, he basically kicked her in there, because she was evermore opposing and resistant and utterly screaming and drawing attention.

Anders almost flipped his shit as he turned around and beheld the sight. Neither of the three could really bring themselves to believe the impossible ridiculousness, the sheer impossibility that described the situation.

Fenris remained cold and firm in his tone and expression, as he pointed at Hawke, "Teach her magic."

Anders lifted his eyebrows and crossed his arms, and seemed about to gasp like the highest-voiced soprano, but he remained contained in his tone and his snorts, "She already knows magic."

"Whatever she knows is not enough," Fenris growled unemotionally and looked at Hawke, who was standing arms crossed and couldn't-care-less expression with half-lidded grumpy eyes. "I can't even begin to count how many times she healed people and blasted thing and almost died."

Anders became more urgent in his tone as he looked at Hawke, "Did you have another strong case of withdrawal?"

Hawke stubbornly refused to answer, which made Fenris look like he was a father dragging his daughter to the mentor with utter disappointment. Well… that wasn't very far from the truth of how that one certain Father handled things whenever he would lose it. There were no more giggles and rainbows, suffice it to say.

"She did," Fenris pressed in irritation. "I alm- we almost lost her in the city for two days straight, never mind all the other times she made herself be on the brink of sudden death."

"This is not something to play with, Hawke," Anders pleaded, sounding as though he had held this speech to her before. Before and a lot of times and never once heard. "I told you this is going to be the death of you if you don't do anything about it."

Hawke didn't answer. She stubbornly kept her arms crossed and grumpy face as if she were a suspect under unfair interrogation and not even thumbscrews and a visit on the torture rack would break her into saying something. Foolish, foolish pride.

Fenris answered for her, yet again, with utmost annoyance, "She trained now and again, but in Spirit magic, if I am correct." When Hawke didn't protest, he kept his eyes on Anders with a cold gaze. "I wager that is not one of the helpful branches in her case."

Anders snorted and broke into soft chuckles. "They help in combat of course, but not when you're a full-fledged warrior about to fall from exhaustion then come the swooping of magic... They require a lot of magic and," he scratched his head as he tried to be careful with his words, "they can be truly dangerous if not channeled right."

"Then do something about it," Fenris demanded with an edge to his voice.

"I'm sorry," Anders started laughing and lowered his gaze as if not to fall downright on the ground from his sudden paroxysm. "This is just… if Sir Pounce-a-Lot somehow magically appeared on my doorstep all the way from Amaranthine and jumping at my neck, it would still seem like a simple deed of no importance compared to this miracle of nature that I now behold in front of me." He shook his head and tried not to laugh so much. "The so-called Maker does have a sense of humor doesn't he?"

"Evidently," Fenris articulated in irritation. He shot silent Hawke a quick glance and then his indomitable eyes came back on the mage. "I trust you will resolve this problem."

"You trust?" Anders asked in utmost astonishment. He pointed at himself with an open-hanging mouth. "Me? To take care of her?" he pointed at Hawke. "Wow…"

"Enough," Fenris cut him flatly.

"Truly, this has been a day of the most insane wonders. No, this has been the most insane year since I became a Grey Warden," Anders almost shouted in amusement. He put a hand over his heart. "Now all that is missing is sitting down and laughing over tea and cakes with each other instead of at each other. All happy smiles, rainbows and kittens between the angry elf, the impulsive warrior mage and the charming – "

"Don't be ridiculous," Fenris cut him again.

"I know how you feel," Anders laughed softly with his arms still crossed. "Irony is sweet, isn't it?"

"And ignorance is bliss, but I seem to have hit my head and fainted during that one wisest lesson of life," Fenris uttered grumpily. He looked at Hawke again, who kept silent the whole time. "You're welcome."

"That only worked the first time you arrogantly said it," Hawke finally fired back.

"That arrogance seems to be making a special effort today," Fenris retorted flatly and went for the door. He knew she knew, by arrogance he simply meant him. "Goodbye."

Then he was gone.

"Special effort indeed," Anders said calmly, inhaling as to prepare for the worst with Hawke. "What was with that first time thing though?"

"Oh, that's a long story," Hawke said unemotionally, half-lidded eyes. "I'll tell you if you promise not to annoy the crap out of me on the first day."

"You'll outrun all of us before anyone makes a special effort, Hawke," Anders said while sighing heavily.

"Well then, Mighty Wizard McFrostitute, let's see what you can teach me," Hawke said grumpily.

A bit of gratitude for all those wounded, Anders thought.

Just treat her with the same stubbornness not to yield, Justice rolled his eyes.

How awesomely predictable of you, Anders rolled the same eyes.

Noon, Outside the Hawke Estate, 3 days before Varric's Birthday

Anders was only half the time a good company. He was a fair teacher, and a kind-hearted joke sufficed not to make her shout and scream at him that he was a damn annoying moron half the other time. Although to be fair, Hawke had to appreciate the honest effort… because she had never been a star pupil neither in magic nor in swordsmanship. She was quick to size the character of her superior and use his own weapon against him, literally of course, but also figuratively in attitude and speech. She taunted and second-guessed them, and spotted all their mistakes just to point them out and keep her own ground in her weakness. If she ever had to take lessons from Fenris in swordfighting… oh, the rolling eyes and the… well, the cutting them out of their sockets was what the future would dictate.

But she needed the training and she needed the practice, and Anders had more often than not allowed himself to be a guinea pig, which piqued the little sadist in her rather well. All in good time, she could make this work… and maybe she would never go crazy haywires mage ever again.

One great hour of the day as she was coming out of her house and head over to Darktown with all the restraint in her stomach, she bumped right into Varric, who had informed her of the mythical drinking at the everusual Hanged Man for his name day. There was another detail he had let slip though, which made her lose it a bit too quickly.

"You haven't seen him at all?" Hawke shouted at Varric in the courtyard.

Varric quickly flinched and clamped his ears with his hands.

Hawke widened her eyes, pressed her lips and appeared mortified. "I'm sorry!"

"No… apologize to me LOUDER," Varric stung sarcastically.

"Please check on him," Hawke pleaded while lowering her body on the weight of her feet as if she was under the pressure of Nature's Call.

"I saw him once and he kind of very politely threw me out," Varric said with a loud sigh, his shoulders sinking.

"Well press harder, Lionheart!" Hawke almost shouted again in annoyance.

"LOUD," Varric pressed.

"Sorry," Hawke shrugged and pressed her lips.

"I'm sure he's alright. He could simply be thoroughly grasping back at his dance routines. You know, taking a vacation from our last vacation," Varric said while rolling his eyes.

"Or he could be hanging from the ceiling," Hawke said in worry.

"Pft, why me and not you?" Varric protested.

"I'm super busy today," Hawke said with a quickened edge that either said she was deflecting or she was genuinely not looking forward to whatever it was that made her busy that day.

"Oh?" Varric lifted his eyebrows.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "I can't explain now. It's Anders and it's to do with magic."

"Alright…" Varric said unconvinced.

"Please Varric," Hawke pressed with just a hint of puppy-dog eyes and just another hint of I'll-murder-you.

"Alright, alright," Varric said defensively, waving with his hands in a yield. His eyes fell halfway and he curled his lips. "You sound very desperate, by the way."

"Well obviously!" she shouted, then raised and stretched her left arm to directly point in the distance of High Estate District. "If he's dead in there, I live downwind."

"Ewww," Varric scowled sweetly.

"And you live downwind too," Hawke said with a determined risen eyebrow.

"Hm. Good point," Varric nodded quickly.

"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies."- Varric

5 minutes later, Fenris's Mansion

There was no need to recognize the obvious. The silence in which he dwelled between those dark familiar walls again was unbearable, but he couldn't bring himself to get out. He felt like a frightened little child crawling into the safest corner of the house, all terrified of the world outside lurking beside the walls, as if one storm could just make them collapse and eat him alive. His head was full, his mind was heavy. He needed time to think.

He kept trying to remember that dream, but only bits and pieces did he seem to recollect. He knew it was something to do with ancient history... something about the end of the world and inevitable doom deemed worthy salvation the last minute. And something about a wolf in shackles breaking free and killing the ruler of the gods... And something about Hawke saying confidently to live.

But his mind was displacing ever so tactfully from thinking about the obvious that all he did for a good part of the day was curse in his mind that he was such a good lad to finally bring some sense to Hawke's situation and force a change upon her for the better. All under the wing of that mage. Curse him. He was probably enjoying her presence all the more now that he himself dragged her there and offered her on a plate.

… And now he made her sound like an object. Great.

"Elf?" came a patient charming voice which startled him like it always had when it entered uninvited.

"Kaf-, uh, what is the point," Fenris muttered and beckoned for Varric to come into his room and sit on the armchair next to his. "Dwarf."

"You're becoming better at the ghost thing," Varric said with a crooked smile as he sat down. "Might wanna… check that."

"Check my attitude you mean?" Fenris asked, leaning back into the chair.

"Check whatever it is that's holding you in this pit and thus, leaving me with shit tones of money not to spend on well, you," Varric said charmingly and gestured, "I did promise you those thousand drinks."

"Ah… the lonely dwarf comes to the lonely elf because the loner mage decided to go back to her roots," Fenris muttered mockingly. It was his idea, and now he was judging it as if it was dictated by an outside force.

"Magic training is not her roots, elf," Varric said with narrowed eyes. "And it seems someone is taking issue with that."

"You mean her?" Fenris asked nonchalantly, watching Varric get out his deck of cards.

Varric snorted. "I mean you." Fenris furrowed his brows and crossed his arms. "Oh, I know that posture. I've seen it on a thousand before you. It's the posture of self-denial."

"Really now?" Fenris asked and gestured towards him. "Perhaps you should consider that is the posture of dwarf-denial. As in denying your dwarven presence and welcoming you out."

"Yeah, you did that yesterday, and I was all happy smiles and patient understanding, but not today," Varric said confidently.

"Oh?" Fenris asked, taking his share of the cards. "You checked your attitude?"

"Nope," Varric said sweetly, holding up his own. "My attitude is most constant, serah. It's kind of the reason I always tend to survive the worst of situations."

"Mhm," Fenris muttered unemotionally.

They played a round. The round was won by Fenris.

"This is ridiculous," Varric muttered in annoyance.

Fenris almost grinned as he cut the cards. "My reason is most constant, 'serah'. It is kind of why I always tend to win at your game."

"Let's play a different game," Varric proposed, all-grinning suddenly.

"Always happy to beat you at yet another one," Fenris uttered, leaning back in his chair.

Varric smiled charmingly and leaned back in his chair too. "Alright. It's called Questions and Answers."

Fenris's shoulders sank and he rolled his eyes as he almost banged the table when he rested his arm on it.

"Now, now, don't be hasty," Varric said with an all-knowing grin. "It's a game, I swear."

"I can't imagine however it may work," Fenris muttered sarcastically, crossing his arms again.

"I ask a question and you don't answer," Varric said.

Fenris raised an eyebrow, playing with one card on the table. "That seems rather contradictory."

"Teh, please," Varric muttered with a cocky grin. "Patience."

"What does this accomplish then?" Fenris demanded, still playing around with that one card.

Varric leaned back forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I'll guess the answer as I ask the questions. If I don't get it right, you," Varric paused and cupped his chin. "Well I already owe you money, and more so I promised you those thousand drinks so-"

"My, whatever do you call that," Fenris said with a wide smirk. "I think the word for it is ownage, but I'm sure I don't know."

Varric smiled childishly. "Well, let's raise the steaks then, tiger," he said and smirked himself with narrowed eyes. He gestured towards him, "I'll give you a pass to punish me on my name day."

A spark went over his face. "Hm. It would be interesting to see the dwarf getting punished for a change," Fenris said while cupping his chin. A moment later his eyes fell halfway as he nodded. "Very well."

"Alright," Varric said with a smirk and crossed his arms. "Let's see. First things first." He raised his lower lip as if to think, then locked his gaze onto Fenris. "What's the color of your underpants?"

"Excuse me?" Fenris asked in outrage.

Varric beckoned for him to chill. "Nuh-uh, you can't speak, remember?"

"What does-"

"Shush."

Fenris rolled his eyes shortly as if to say fine. He leaned back in his armchair and played with the card on the table.

"Green?" Varric asked. "Hm. So not green." He paused. "I don't suppose it's blue."

Fenris looked at him without blinking. Whatever answer was on his face said he was an idiot.

Varric only grinned and asked again, "How about red?" He clapped his hands. "Bingo."

"How are you so sure?" Fenris asked with narrowed eyes.

"Why how else?" Varric exclaimed while smiling widely. He raised his hands. "You just told me!"

"Oh so you're guessing from my expression, then?" Fenris asked.

"The truth is painted all across your face, Serah," Varric said with a cocky wink. Then he entangled the fingers of his hands in front of his face like a full-fledged boss, only a cigar missing from his regal posture. "Next question… Hm. Why have you locked yourself in these past few days?"

Of course Fenris didn't answer – it was the rule, and he was feeling a bit grateful for the rule. This was no easy guessing of some color, but he did swallow inside and banged the card in his hands more rapidly against the table.

"Is it because you're afraid of something?" Varric asked.

Fenris remained silent and cold-faced.

"So you're afraid of something," Varric said quickly, looking down. "Is it that you'll be running out of saucy red underpants?"

Now he was just making fun of him, Fenris thought.

"Well that's obviously not the case, from your genuine rolling of the eyes," Varric chuckled, then resumed his cocky posture. "Is it the hunters?"

Fenris remained silent and impenetrable, or so he thought.

"So not the hunters," Varric said. Fenris furrowed his brows for a moment, so Varric explained, "You had a faint contained smile for a flash of a second. You tried to conceal it." He leaned back in his chair with a victorious smile. "That means you were happy I thought I was onto you with the obvious and didn't think of something else."

"Are you some kind of dwarven lie detector?" Fenris asked with pronounced discomfort.

Varric chuckled, "I'm a dwarven merchant. I know stuff."

"So because you're a big shot merchant you assume I'm lying?" Fenris asked.

Varric laughed again. "I'm not assuming you're lying because I'm a 'big shot merchant'. I assume you're lying because I'm breathing and you're breathing."

"And yet I did not say anything, thus I am not technically lying," Fenris argued with an all-knowing smirk.

"You don't need to say anything to lie, my friend," Varric sighed. "Keeping the truth inside and shutting up is just as much lying as concealing it with words."

"Did Hawke put you up to this?" Fenris asked angrily.

"Oh, so just because she's the human lie detector, no one else can be perceptive?" Varric chuckled. "I don't do favors like that and even if I did you know Hawke could have just stormed in here and interrogated you much more effectively."

"Oh, joy of joys that she has not, right?" Fenris muttered sarcastically. But it was not sarcasm.

"She's busy," Varric shrugged.

"Oh?" Fenris asked, playing nonchalantly with the card again.

Varric watched him for a moment in silence, but resumed, "She's pulling out the big swords on Kirkwall. Well, that sounds a bit redundant, but you get what I mean."

Fenris shook his head with a risen eyebrow and said, "I really don't."

Varric sighed a bit. "She's petitioned the Viscount to offer social help for an elven prostitute with a kid that wants out of the Blooming Rose."

Fenris remained stunned, his mouth half open. To that Varric chuckled, "Yeah, I know. But she's got a point. She argued that that's the thing a proud independent city should do to show it's not just some smug pretentious sense of independence."

"With the Qunari and the Templars and the crumbling politics of that idiot Viscount she thinks now is a good time to save poor kittens and puppies?" Fenris asked with discomfort.

"Hey, don't forget you live in the lap of," Varric paused and looked around the room, "what once fairly a thousand years ago had been luxury," he pointed behind him, "because of her."

"I didn't," Fenris said bitterly. "But she didn't go petitioning the Viscount to let me live here. This is different. It's an open assault on his politics."

"So?" Varric asked. "You're living here still because of me anyway. Sadly, I don't have the same power to do favors for everybody."

Fenris shot him a glance of murder and leaned forward. "I'm sorry. Was it not just a few days ago that I had to pose as Knight-Lieutenant Finufa-whatever because of her insane stupidity?"

"Yeah… that's not gonna happen here," Varric said with an annoyed grimace. "And that was just bad luck, don't put all the blame on her."

Fenris threw his arms in the air suddenly. "We are in the very heart of Templar land. That incident was on a forgotten road in a faraway country. This is Kirkwall and you of all people know what dangers lurk in its midst beyond the free independent city pretenses."

"I know," Varric pressed in annoyance. He shook his head.

"Then stop her!" Fenris almost shouted.

"Sure, want me to spew diamonds out of my ass while I'm at it?" Varric uttered sarcastically.

Fenris shook his head at him. "You give us this beautiful illusion every day that you keep your fingers in all the pots and thus, you are all-powerful, but you can't spew those crazy diamonds?"

"Well the only way I can keep those diamonds from delving into everything is by turning them to the Templars," Varric said angrily. "And it turns out neither of us wants that now, do we?"

Fenris pressed his lips in annoyance and remained silent. He leaned back into the armchair and resumed playing around with the card on the table and muttered bitterly, "Stubborn diamonds."

"Those stubborn diamonds, all of us, have done enough for everyone to be grateful for," Varric muttered. "The dwarven diamond keeps all the thieves and tax collectors away from this place. The red diamond already battled the Senechal into raising the fences against slaver activity and all-things Tevinter. Guard-Captain Diamond keeps a daily watch over their nests and wipes the city clean of them. Even Ship-Captain Diamond got you a deal by juggling some rubies, if you know what I mean."

"Sadly," Fenris muttered grumpily. "But that was not for my sake. Ship-Captain Diamond did it to get herself rights over some shipments in the Docks."

"Yeah, I don't get what she's doing with that either," Varric said while narrowing his eyes. "But anyway-"

"If you're trying to make me feel guilty, you can show yourself out," Fenris cut him with an angry look.

"I'm not, you roaring idiot!" Varric exclaimed with palms raised. "But I think you're not the only one who deserves rights, freedom, protection and yadda-yadda. That's all I'm saying."

"Clearly," Fenris muttered in annoyance. He kept playing with the card and remained silent.

"So, back to our game," Varric said with a smile. "Not hunters. Then what in the world could it be… should I dare go straight for the belt?"

Fenris didn't answer, remaining grim in his card spinning.

"Something to do with the stubborn diamond?" Varric asked. Fenris almost crushed the card. "So that's it." A moment passed. "But not with this piece of news. This is something older."

Since Fenris still didn't throw him out, he decided to go deeper. "Something happened." Varric leaned back in the chair and rested his head against his arm. "In Antiva?" He searched his expression. "After Antiva?" Another moment passed. "Before?"

Fenris played with the card without looking at him. Varric was going to blast his brains out with this, but then again, he wouldn't let it go either way.

"Wow, you're not sure yourself," Varric said with his eyebrow lifted. "Your expressions are a bunch of half-assed oatmeal."

"Astonish me with your wisdom," Fenris muttered sarcastically.

"Well," Varric said with a grin. "When I said before Antiva, you concealed a smile again. When I said after Antiva, you clenched your fist on the chair."

Fenris looked at him nervously, clutching to the card now as if it was the only point of balance.

Then Varric's face became grim suddenly, locking his gaze onto the elf. "But when I said in Antiva, your eyebrows went oblique for a moment. That was sadness."

Fenris furrowed his eyebrows at him and asked, "Sadness? Why sadness?"

"You ask me?" Varric said with a smile. "I don't know what happened now, do I?"

"I almost don't believe you," Fenris articulated disdainfully. "More so I imagine you already painted a picture," he rolled his eyes, "all with studying my eyebrows."

"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies," Varric said with a grin. Then he arched up an eyebrow and asked, "How come you're not kicking me out, elf?"

"I need a drink," Fenris said bitterly and went for the cellar. While he was gone, Varric leaned over to look at the card he was playing with. If he didn't kick him out yet, then he couldn't help but guess Fenris needed to get something out of him and he was the one he chose in a snap decision to confide in. Perhaps because his guessing game aroused an interest in him and kept him entertained all with his defenses.

When he came back, he poured cider in their glasses and fell back in the armchair forcefully.

"Cider?" Varric asked with a grin. "I almost forgot about that."

"What?" Fenris asked nonchalantly as he took a sip.

"All in good time," Varric said with half-lidded eyes. "So back to our game."

"Make haste with that," Fenris muttered, resting his head against his arm. "Cider puts me to sleep rather quickly."

"The host knows best," Varric said subtly. "So you smiled before Antiva, you were angry after Antiva, you were sad because of Antiva."

"Mhm," Fenris muttered while drinking. He forgot he didn't need to answer.

"Well, since I'm much more acquainted with anger than you showing any other normal emotions," Varric started with a sigh and leaned back in his chair. "Is the anger towards her?" Moments passed. "So not her."

Fenris kept drinking nonchalantly, hoping he would pass out.

"Towards someone not present?" Varric demanded. "Hm. You're not sure." He cupped his chin and scrutinized him. "Is it Blondie?"

Fenris banged the glass back on the table without realizing. "Now what sort of special scorn could you have towards Blondie?" Varric asked a bit eager now, all-knowingly grinning.

"I don't have anything 'special' towards an all the more insignificant being like that mage," Fenris answered flatly.

"That mage, huh?" Varric asked while smirking.

"He is a mage, is he not?" Fenris asked redundantly. "You call him Blondie, I call him mage."

"You also call him abomination and Winifred McWhinehard, but that's not the word I was articulating," Varric said. "Speaking of articulation, you said 'that mage' instead of using a simple pronoun while were already aware of who were speaking about. That's distancing language."

"Do I look like I want to be close to 'him'?" Fenris mocked with using a simple pronoun now.

"Nope," Varric said sweetly. "But you articulated it more harshly this time. That means while you're distancing yourself as usual from 'him', you're also hiding something about 'him' that I don't know." Fenris frowned at him, so Varric raised a palm towards him. "Am I wrong, Braveheart?"

"Astonish me some more with your theories," Fenris muttered and took another sip of nonchalance. "I shall keep drinking in the meantime."

"You want me to guess so you won't have to say anything," Varric said. He grinned and shrugged while uttering, "Which is why I chose to play it this way myself." He stretched his arms all lion-hearted. "See how sweet and tactful and understanding I am?"

"Yes, I see you're tactful," Fenris said flatly, placing the glass on the table.

"You're annoyed with him training the stubborn diamond," Varric said.

Fenris laughed shortly. "That is not some state secret."

"Exactly," Varric grinned. "You're hiding something."

"Perhaps it is annoyance towards a figure present at this very table," Fenris muttered grumpily, shooting a cold glance.

"Yeah, you," Varric said flatly. "You're angry at yourself."

"Me?" Fenris asked in outrage.

"Oh, please," Varric shouted and leaned back in his chair. He took a long sip of the cider to harrow Fenris with the waiting. Then he resumed with a serious face, "I'm not an idiot."

"No, you're clearly much brighter than you look it," Fenris said half-sarcastically.

Varric rolled his eyes and took another great sip of harrowing. "I know two things for certain – one of them is that you're angry at yourself. Two is that one indeed needs the power to spew diamonds out of their ass and pigs would be flying up above in the sky the same day Priscilla Tuffpants decides to do something she had stubbornly refused to for years and years on end." He leaned over and shot him a straight, accusatory glance. "So forgive me if I think this wasn't voluntary."

"I'm clearly a miracle worker," Fenris answered bitterly, taking the bottle to drink straight out from it.

"And I'm clearly brighter than I look it," Varric stated confidently, crossing his arms. "So what's your problem? Why are you angry with yourself?"

"Shouldn't you be the one guessing, Mister Lie Detector?" Fenris asked nonchalantly, drinking from the bottle.

"You're right, I'm clearly the smartass here," Varric said in annoyance. "But I can't quite imagine why you would be." He gestured while enumerating, "You get to stop rambling that she's endangering herself, she gets to make peace with her stupid magic and last but not least, you get to dance for joy and laugh your ass off because Hawke's clearly gonna bring Blondie close to blasting his own brains out with a fireball."

Instead of laughing, Fenris banged the bottle against the table and shouted, "He is dangerous."

"And the sky is blue and the grass is green," Varric said sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at his outburst.

Fenris looked away and pressed his lips. He inhaled deeply and scratched the label off the bottle. After a while he muttered, "I don't trust him."

"Again, the sky is bl-"

"This is not funny," Fenris said angrily. He kept scratching the label off and inhaled deeply again in utter annoyance. "That… Zevran guy, he said he was a big flaming scoundrel in the Wardens. Now he's also possessed by a vengeful spirit."

Varric arched up an eyebrow and asked, "And what does that have to do with teaching Hawke a few damn spells?"

"I don't know, you tell me," Fenris almost shouted angrily. He leaned back in the chair and gestured as he muttered, "Or do you need to go study that guy's eyebrows too to get an idea?"

Varric chuckled. "Of course I'll do that too." He nodded friendly. "You can count on me."

"Marvelous," Fenris muttered grumpily and grabbed the bottle aggressively to drink again.

"So this was your idea and that's why you're angry with yourself," Varric guessed quickly, scrutinizing his change in behavior. "Great then. We're getting somewhere."

"How about out?" Fenris hissed bitterly, swallowing the cider.

Varric narrowed his eyes and said, "How about no?"

"How about yes, before I make you?" Fenris said with a contained edge to his voice.

Varric shook his head and looked down. Several moments of silence enveloped them both, Fenris glancing at him angrily and waiting for him to leave. When Varric looked back up at him, Fenris felt a bit nervous, because his face seemed both serious and sad.

"Here's how I see it," Varric said decisively with half-lidded eyes, staring at Fenris as he gestured, "Good friends pretend everything's okay and keep on a goodie-goodie smile. Great friends go past the caverns of bullshit and dig until they find those diamonds of truth."

Fenris laughed hoarsely. "So now I am to understand that we're great friends?"

Varric pressed, ignoring him, "Good friends also nod and understand." Then he shot him the most serious and confident glance in history. "And great friends don't take no for an answer."

"Are you done?" Fenris asked nonchalantly.

"Yeah, I'm done," Varric said bitterly.

Fenris gestured towards him calmly, "Then resume your game."

"… Alright," Varric said all with lifted eyebrows. He coughed awkwardly and resumed, "So the anger issue is resolved. How about that sadness issue? The happy issue seems to me to be the most fantastically strange and utterly hard one, so I'll keep it last."

"Whatever," Fenris muttered nonchalantly and rested his forehead against his arm on the table as he drank away.

Varric pressed his lips in annoyance and searched his mind. "You're words say nonchalance, but your voice says it bothers you a lot. And your expression says you feel guilty, all with the hand on the forehead thingy."

"Oh, so we're past the eyebrow studying," Fenris said mockingly.

Varric knew this was something grave and he didn't know exactly how to do it without tackling him with the truth. "Well… seeing as how you're confiding in me instead of your best friend in the world, I guess it has something to do with the stubborn diamond." Fenris shot him a cold glance. "…And that concealed scorn towards my little guess for a flash of a second confirmed it."

"You've got scorn right," Fenris muttered.

"So the stubborn diamond made you sad?" Varric said and thought on it for a moment. "Did someone dig into the mine too deep?"

"You're the one digging too deep," Fenris said with an edge to his tone, brushing his arm in annoyance.

"And that quick brush on the arm says I'm hitting gold soon," Varric said all-grinning.

"Now I can't even touch myself?" Fenris asked angrily.

Varric snorted. "Oh, you can touch yourself all you want, my friend."

Fenris blushed and suddenly looked away. "Resume your game and shut up."

"Well now that's kind of contradictory," Varric chuckled. "Alright where were we?"

"You were hitting on something," Fenris reminded him nonchalantly.

"Right…" Varric said. "Did someone else hit on something they shouldn't have? Perhaps the burned relics in the hidden mine of someone's sanctum of – OH THIS IS RIDICULOUS," Varric shouted and sighed. He shot Fenris a serious glance. "I know you're shacking up with Hawke."

Fenris choked on his cider and splashed it all out. "I am not!"

"Then what's with the only-one-shoulder shrug, Cider Boy?" Varric asked while narrowing his eyes. "That one-shoulder shrug means you have no confidence in what you just said. Either that or you have no confidence in what shacking up means, so I guess it's safe to say we shouldn't check the sky for flying pigs any time soon."

Fenris banged the bottle on the table as he placed it down. "Enough."

"What the hell happened, elf?" Varric pressed with narrowed eyes.

"Nothing," Fenris growled angrily.

"Well, that's true," Varric said. "Now we're getting somewhere. That made you sad then? Certainly wouldn't make me dance for joy."

"You don't know anything," Fenris said angrily.

"But I would like to, highness," Varric almost shouted, losing his nerves. "I don't appreciate this hiding around."

"Well that's ironic, isn't it?" Fenris almost shouted too, gesturing towards his crossbow. "You finally get a taste of your own medicine."

"That's different, Cider Boy," Varric said in annoyance. "Did you pinky-swear not to tell or something?"

"Did I what?" Fenris asked in confusion.

"Ugh, never mind," Varric said while rolling his eyes. "Just tell me."

"Oh, I get it," Fenris said in a fit of masked calmness and rose from his chair. "You get to play the little puppy-loving dwarf to the angry private elf and thought you could get it out of me in my sudden fit of misery instead of going all accusations on your 'best friend'."

"Yep, you caught me," Varric said in-between pressing his lips. "You don't go whining to your best friend because it's about her. I don't go whining to the same friend because I'm a little bitch. You caught me."

"Don't mock me," Fenris growled with narrowed eyes.

"I'm not," Varric pressed in annoyance, looking up at him unyieldingly. "Though to be fair, she's way tougher to break than you."

Fenris raised his arm halfway and growled, "Get out."

Varric crossed his arms and shot him a very annoyed look in silence.

"I mean it, Varric," Fenris pressed with his arm still pointing at the door.

"Fenris, I know you have the courage to get past your fear and tell me the truth," Varric pressed too. "That's why you chose me to confide in – an ally who will understand, an adviser you can trust," he paused and pressed his lips, "or maybe a friend who will never judge."

Fenris remained silent and seemed as though he was battling between sitting down again or staying on his ground of misery. Varric was already onto him, and his faint contained expressions of sadness were already flooding the dark and empty room. Fenris finally swallowed inside and looked away. "There is nothing to tell," he growled coldly.

"Can I give you a piece of advice then?" Varric asked undauntedly.

Fenris remained cold and shook his head faintly. "It seems everyone keeps giving me pieces of advice."

"Clearly this must be a conspiracy," Varric mused all-grinning.

"Clearly," Fenris articulated with narrowed eyes.

Varric brushed his forehead in annoyance. "Or maybe it's a damn sign you should listen."

"And what is yours, I wonder?" Fenris asked.

"Get out of this house," Varric almost shouted, raising his palms to make it seem more evident. "You can't keep playing around with that card and holding onto its meaning like it's some lost memory and some idealistic bullshit of honor," he said and gestured towards the Knight of Roses card he kept nervously playing with. "There's enough time to mope and brood when you go to bed. Don't waste it, you're getting old."

Fenris snorted suddenly and crossed his arms. "Now I'm old?"

"You've done a great deal of growing up over the years," Varric said confidently and crossed his arms too. "So quit your shit and be a man."

"I'm not a man?" Fenris asked, lifting his eyebrows.

Varric pressed his lips. "You really want me to answer that?"

"Better that you don't," Fenris said with a sigh. "Perhaps I have been a bit unreasonable."

"A bit," Varric snorted.

"Don't push it, dwarf," Fenris pressed with a cold glance.

Varric sighed again. "Like I said… you're getting old. I don't care that you elves look all young and plucky, you're not so young anymore."

"However might you know?" Fenris asked sarcastically.

"I know everything there is to know," Varric pressed with a wink, deliberate on the redundancy. "Remember that day when Hawke disappeared?"

"Which time…?" Fenris asked with a sigh.

"The first time. When you found her in the old estate," Varric said. "And I came after you and we played cards for the first time."

"Ah yes, when my unbeatable winning streak and your years of misery began," Fenris said cockily.

"You got the misery part right," Varric said mockingly. "Anyway, I told you that you needed some growing up to do… and you said I should tell you stuff anyway and you'll save it as a memento for when the right time came to use it."

"And?" Fenris asked.

"Well use my damn advice already," Varric pressed with stretched arms. "You don't yet show it, but you're starting to fade and I can sense it before it's even happening."

"Yes, you're quite the clairvoyant, aren't you?" Fenris muttered sarcastically.

"Nope," Varric said sweetly and got up from the chair. "I'm an expert in the mind."

"You are not an expert in the mind of a slave," Fenris said bitterly, going back for the bottle on the table.

Varric went for the door and opened it halfway. He clutched at it for a second, then he looked behind and shrugged as he said, "I shouldn't be. I'm not talking to one."

Noon, Fenris's Mansion, 2 days before Varric's Birthday

"Yes?" Fenris asked coldly as he opened his door to her.

Hawke tried not to look unsettled by his sudden disappearance, so she simply said, "Are you… alright? Haven't heard from you these days."

His expression remained soulless and impenetrable, sizing her up. He gave her an empty glance. "I'm fit as a fiddle."

Hawke couldn't do much but grimace at his choice of words, then after too many seconds of silence he harrowed on her, she finally uttered, "Alright, well… You seem to be content. Forgive me for disturbing."

"No need to apologize," Fenris nodded knightly, but remained cold. "Goodbye."

Perhaps the whole black figures and the dream he had which bore the memories of his past horrors struck him a bit too hard, all with his tormented mind already receiving too many shocks the past month. Perhaps he needed some time. Perhaps he was pulling away.

All she knew was that she couldn't let it go, but she wouldn't press either. She turned around and made haste to walk back to her house, but something gnawed at her lips and she couldn't help it. Before his door went shut, she turned back and sought to maybe distract him with another more insane reality.

"Alright, I've been having dreams about us," Hawke almost shouted as she walked back to him.

"Dreams?" Fenris asked while stopping the door, a bit thrown off. He looked down and up at her with a piercing look, though kept his contained tone, "What kind of dreams?"

Hawke's lids fell halfway. "Dreams. Regular dreams. Lots of daylight, lots of armour."

"I see," Fenris said. "… And?"

"And I don't know, I want you to invite me in," Hawke demanded. "If that's alright with you."

"Are you a vampire?" Fenris asked grumpily. "Seems only fair that you always come up to me at night."

"Yes, I am so much a vampire, fully annoyed of the daylight in those dreams," Hawke said sarcastically. It was also daylight outside right then, so he couldn't play with it.

"Well, how could I leave you out here to burn?" Fenris stung back subtly.

Alright, he did find a way to play with it. Well now, perhaps there was still a flame in his soul that kept the old funny Fenris with a particular emotion he scarcely, but frequently showed her.

"So I can come in?" Hawke asked with a childish smile.

He remained silent for a minute, looking almost past through her with his piercing green eyes. As if to ask or search something in his logic. It seemed he was battling between letting her in and utterly shutting the door.

He then slowly, and to her relief, moved away from the doorway as he dragged the door wide open. He gestured politely inside, "I humbly welcome you into my home," Fenris nodded grumpily, and gestured gentlemanly. "For the first time in all these years."

Hawke rolled her eyes, resumed with a smile thereafter, "You never were humble in welcoming me, 'tis true."

"I do wonder why vampires would have to be granted invitation to come in someone's home," Fenris said calmly.

She came into his hallway and walked right past him, "Well, otherwise it would just be rude."

His eyes fell heavily at the back of his head, accompanied by a not so contained smile as she couldn't really see him as he closed the door.

She stopped into the center of the hallway and turned around to look at him.

"So these dreams you were saying about?" Fenris asked coldly, stopping at the polite distance.

"I… uhm…" Hawke stuttered horribly, clutching at her hair as she swayed like a frightened child.

"You… uh?" Fenris asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms.

She sighed heavily and bit at her lip. Then she quickly jerked her head and rolled her eyes as she said, "I had the same dream… with the self-driving gondola and the self-replenishing glass of wine."

Never had his brows furrowed more urgently. He appeared to swallow inside, then tilted his head and drawled, "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," Hawke shrugged and pressed her lips. "We talked about Fenrir and I painted you. Then you brushed off the name and scribbled your own." She inhaled and locked her gaze onto him even if he shyly looked away. "And then you toasted towards me saying you are to enjoy the irony."

Fenris remained silent with his arms crossed, and beyond the aloofness burned a terrible contradiction in his eyes.

"It's insane, I know," Hawke stuttered quickly and looked down. "This Fade thing is –"

"This is most disturbing," Fenris uttered coldly, uncrossing his arms.

"I agree," Hawke nodded calmly and started pacing around as she gestured and explained, "The Fade bears the fullness of emotion from our world. It dictates its existence and its surroundings. They are all made out of it." He watched her patiently as she explained, so she swallowed inside and continued, "Mages are usually conscious in it, and therefore almost all dreams are arguably less incomprehensible."

Fenris remained silent, and his eyes told her to continue to explain this to him.

Hawke clutched at her hair nervously and continued drawling, "And some mages can…" she gestured slowly, "catch the subtle vibes of these emotions and live…"

"So we talked in a dream, as if it were another Tuesday," Fenris cut her with his incomplete conclusion.

Hawke scratched her head and grimaced with discomfort, "Pretty much."

"I see," Fenris said calmly, eyes lowering to the ground. "Were you aware that you were dreaming?"

"For a moment," Hawke stated nervously, looking away. "I tend to lose myself in these things."

"Perhaps with more practice you could master this talent," Fenris said calmly, a statement that quickly threw her off.

Hawke narrowed her eyes and jerked her head. "I don't really… take interest in this – "

Fenris finally he gave her a soft chuckle with half-lidded eyes as he crossed his arms, and then said, "How did the training go, might I ask?"

"It sucked," Hawke said flatly.

Fenris raised an eyebrow and a ghost of a grin came about his face, which died as quickly, "Can you… be more specific?"

Hawke shrugged, "It really sucked."

"How sad," Fenris said calmly.

"You know you brought me there, by force, might I add," Hawke said accusatorily, "So it's a bit of a contradiction that you threw me into it, but then you kinda also enjoy that Anders is a pain in my ass."

"On the contrary," Fenris retorted calmly, and gestured nonchalantly towards her, "I enjoy you being a pain in his."

"Oh, so this is like a punishment," Hawke said with a silvery grin. "I caught your drift. No need to say more."

"No," Fenris pressed. Then an edge of emotion started to trace in his tone, "I was very serious when I dragged you in there." He gestured towards her decisively. "You need to take care of your problem."

"That reminds me you have not given your punishment to me and it's already been a year," Hawke said to deflect, cupping her chin and grinning. "Whatever happened to that?"

"I'm a patient man," Fenris said with a contained grin. "Let us hope the abomination is too."

"He's close to strangling me," Hawke said with a shrug. "And I'm close to letting him."

"Don't joke," Fenris pressed in annoyance.

"I'm serious," Hawke shouted innocently. "Never before have I felt like drinking as much."

"Stop with the drinking," Fenris said flatly.

"Now there's a lot you want to change about me in such a short time," Hawke said in annoyance. "Good to see you've taken up another purpose in life."

"It's not funny," Fenris pressed bitterly, still arms crossed and tense.

She crossed her arms too. "No, but it's ironic."

"Why?" he asked.

"It would be even more ironic if I had to spell it out for you," Hawke said and smiled sadly. "Oh, but you did say you were to enjoy the irony now, didn't you?"

Fenris shook his head and closed his eyes. He seemed to have too much on his mind. He cut her short, "Just keep with your training and stay our of trouble."

"Ah, fine, Father dearest," Hawke said and rolled her eyes. "If you so wish."

"If you do it just on behalf of my wishes, then…," Fenris started bitterly, but paused all of a sudden while looking down.

"Then?" she asked.

He coughed chivalrously and resumed his gaze upon her coldly. "I suppose I can live with that," he said firmly, then a quick grimace came over his lips, "however foolish it may be."

She couldn't help but a smile a little, and approached him without realizing. He stepped back, without realizing.

"I…" Hawke stuttered sadly, without much in her repertoire of saving lines for this kind of awkward, tensioned and cold conversations. "Are you alright? You don't seem alright."

"I'm… fine," Fenris muttered with a bit of hidden emotion, and with that he let himself sigh. "I simply needed to be alone for a time."

"Do you still need to?" Hawke pressed, but in a soft voice. She shrugged and smiled, "I'm not shouting for attention, I just want to know if you need me."

"I don't," Fenris said quickly, but then his throat stiffened and his eyes seemed to widen and he started to stumble, look in different directions and drawl as he muttered in a deep voice, "I mean…" he sighed and put a hand over his forehead. "I do. But I –"

"You're not in a good place," Hawke finished it for him. She nodded knightly and said in a soft voice, "Look, shout if you need me. I'm not going to press on something when you obviously don't have the heart to speak of it." She shrugged and her smile died. "You've known me for enough years to understand I'm here, I've known you enough time to learn not to step over boundaries."

He kept silent a moment, then his tongue let slip a soft and low, "Thank you."

Hawke smiled warmly and said, "I also thought I'd bring you a basket of scones, but –"

"You thought a burned up desert wouldn't look much like a friendly offering but an invitation for war," Fenris finished her sentence with a ghost of a smirk.

"How well you know me," Hawke said with a silvery grin. "But expect a good basket soon, Mother's been asking for you and I didn't know what to tell her."

"Is that the only reason you were here then?" Fenris asked while crossing his arms.

"Yeah, of course," Hawke said while rolling her eyes. "I always go on errand duty for all-loving Mother dearest and bring messages to her most beloved elf."

"I wouldn't go that far," Fenris said with a contained smile.

"Oh, cut it," Hawke said sharply. "You know she's crazy about you and all-disapproving of me," she said with narrowed eyes and pointed at him, "and you're loving every bit of it."

"She's your mother," Fenris said calmly and shrugged, "What good would it do her to worry over strangers more than her own daughter?"

"Yeah, you really don't know my mother," Hawke said with a sigh. "There's no ant or puppy or," she coughed, "warrior in the world she doesn't go hot-headed superhero for."

"I think I know the type," Fenris said with arms crossed, containing his smile.

Hawke didn't get it, so she just jerked her head and pressed her lips. "Well… I gave you your warning," she said while shrugging, "If you don't want her to storm the doors and harrow hell upon you…"

"I wouldn't want that now, would I?" Fenris said a bit bitterly, uncrossing his arms. "I apologize, Hawke."

"For what?" she asked in confusion, narrowing her eyes.

His throat seemed to stiffen, and he coughed shortly. "Never mind. Pay me no heed."

"Alright," Hawke said and smiled shortly. "I will leave you be."

"Haw-" Fenris stuttered and lowered his gaze. He cleared his throat and said, "Be careful."

"I learned my lessons," Hawke said and pressed her lips. She turned around and started to walk. "Take care, Fenris."

"Take care," he said faintly and watched her go. For some reason she stopped and turned around with a pointy finger.

"I do however," Hawke started and sighed, then approached him again, "Need you tomorrow to discuss Varric's name day. Remember you said we needed to blast his brains out this year since he's bored of enough times over the years?"

"Yes, drinking for two hours, half-snorting and making inside jokes with himself, then he suddenly disappears," Fenris said while rolling his eyes. "I can't have that again. I will be the one to blast my brains out if this will be so."

"Then it's settled," Hawke said with a smile. "Come by my house tomorrow."

"I will see you then," Fenris said a bit melodically in his gentlemanly tone.

When she walked past him, he made way for her as if she were a ghost, and despite her being a ghost, he beheld her as more powerful and likely to wound him. She resolved to banish this bitter thought in her mind and walk forward unperturbed.

Little did she know, Fenris kept his eyes on her as she slowly made her way out of his mansion, viciously cursing himself in his mind, that he simply didn't tell her to stay, even for a lousy glass of wine.

Evening, Hawke's Estate, 1 day before Varric's Birthday

"Why don't we make a progressive dinner for Varric?" Leandra proposed firmly. "It was an old tradition," she gestured in explaining to Fenris, "Each household made a meal course and the guests would travel from house to house as they did."

"Oh no, no, no," Hawke protested immediately.

"We can have the main course here," Leandra gestured back into the house, since they were in the courtyard, "And Fenris could have us over for dessert. Then you can all resume your rampant celebrations with drinking at your filthy old tavern."

Hawke snorted heavily. "Fenris? Dessert?"

"I think that's an excellent idea," came Fenris's voice and threw her off completely.

"You do?!" Hawke almost shouted, eyes widened towards him, mouth half-open and powerfully dumb-looking.

Fenris rapidly coughed awkwardly. "Although given the state of my mansion and a one day's notice, I would much rather bring it here."

"Well, it would still be a progressive dinner," Leandra said while cupping her chin. "Very well then."

"Andraste's purple bruised buttcheeks, what the hell is going on here?" Hawke shouted and stretched her arms out. "Have I suddenly died and landed in the country of fairies and unicorns, where Fenris makes dessert and my Mother holds dinner parties for my friends?"

"You were not the only one who taught me something useful," Fenris pressed firmly, looking at her coldly with the back of his eye.

Leandra chuckled with her arms crossed. "You should taste his scones, they're very good."

"I should what?" Hawke asked rapidly, understanding something else entirely.

"It took him about five burned batches and one contained Tevinter curse before he got it alright," Leandra said warmly.

"I apologize for that," Fenris said politely.

Leandra chuckled and gestured as she said, "That's alright, I cursed more and less contained than you did."

"I… what… the hell… ," Hawke uttered while looking astonished, from her mother back to Fenris and then again at her mother.

"Come on dear, you can handle all the liquor," Leandra said sweetly, which only made the edge in her voice more obvious. "And the napkins."

"Great… napkin duty," Hawke muttered. "Hooray."

"Did I mention the liquor?" Leandra asked innocently with a smile, again only a bit of an edge in her voice.

So she was to handle the alcohol… and Fenris did not say one thing about it? And more importantly, Fenris was about to make desert for five-six people? Truly this day could not be more insane.

"Fine, I'm in," Hawke muttered with her arms crossed.

"I'll make braised lamb shanks and Duck a l'Orange with cherry-rosemary sauce," Leandra said eagerly, entangling her hands.

A second of silence and one eyebrow arching up to Heaven. "I'm still in," Hawke drawled awkwardly.

"What about sprouts?" Leandra asked and looked at Fenris. "How do you enjoy your sprouts?"

"As… projectiles?" Hawke answered for him, with an eyebrow arching up to Heaven.

"Whatever you will cook will be just fine, I'm certain," Fenris answered politely.

Hawke put her hands against her head and shook it slowly. "What is happening with you?"

Fenris looked at her as if she were an idiot, then resumed his glance onto her mother. "Should I attempt to make scones or pie?"

"What in Maker's good name is happening with you!" Hawke cried again astonished.

They both ignored her.

"I'm thinking pie, but that's just me," Leandra said with a shrug.

Fenris suddenly turned his head to Hawke and calmly asked, "What is your feeling on pie?"

"My feeling is that I want to be locked in room made out of pie and eat my way out of it," Hawke said while picturing it.

Fenris chuckled and shot her an evil grin. "Then you'll be growing out of your battle pants in no time"

"Oh, joy…," Hawke muttered and crossed her arms. "Good thing I took up Booty Burning Ballet."

Silence and arching eyebrows on her. "What, can't I joke?" she asked in annoyance. "Oh, you two are wussies."

They both ignored her yet again.

"If you do have the courage to venture into pie duty, I wager I should give you a hand," Leandra said while chuckling warmly.

Fenris gave her Mother a contained smile, shyly looking away. Was he really that much of a gentleman or was he playing with her being all cold and nonchalant? What a snake, if that were true. Shame on him.

"I will welcome your help, but I'm quite confident I can do it myself," Fenris said firmly, nodding towards Leandra.

"Alright then," Leandra laughed and touched him only for a second on the shoulder. "I'm looking forward to it. Feel free to come before the dinner and I'll help you if you need me. And don't tell Varric. Let it be a surprise."

Oh, no need to worry over surprises…

"As am I for dinner," Fenris said and bowed to her. "Have a good night."

Then he turned to the arching-eyebrow grimacing Hawke and nodded, "Hawke."

Shame on him!

5 minutes later, Evening, Hawke Estate

She was sitting at the table with her mother, Leandra courteous and soft and Hawke with a leg over the arm of the chair. She blew a few circles in the air.

"I hope you're not smoking in front of him," Leandra said in worry.

Hawke blew a few circles nonchalantly again, then assumed a grumpy face. "Yeah, I lie in bed and puff in his face, Mother," she said in irritation.

Her Mother raised her eyebrows quickly. "Bed?"

"I did all sorts of unladylike things with him already," Hawke teased devilishly.

"Oh, Maker," Leandra gasped and put a hand over her forehead.

"Yeah, that's what I usually scream too," Hawke lied and tried not to laugh.

"OH by the Void, stop it!" Leandra shouted in anger.

Hawke pressed her lower lip upwards and looked up with a slight head tilt. "That too, sometimes. He can come a bit too hard, but you know how that is."

"Shut your dirty mouth!" Leandra shouted again.

Hawke laughed. "Now you're just quoting right from the book if one kept a record of our pillow talk."

Leandra scowled a few too many seconds before she realized Hawke was playing with her. "You're doing this on purpose so I won't mother him so much and make you look like you're a lonely little vagabond."

"Oh, it took you a year and a half to realize! Welcome to my world, dear Mother!" she shouted eagerly with hands up in the air and almost falling back from her chair. "Everyone else is always better than me in your eyes."

"You know they're not, love," Leandra pressed suavely, sad eyes on her face. "I just like to mother people, you know that."

"Well, I apparently, by your standards, like to insult people, so I guess we're both at an edge here," Hawke said grumpily.

Leandra shook her head and grinned. "Perhaps that is why I hear a sparkle in your voice as you sought to unsettle me with your dirty mutterings." She raised an a proud eyebrow. "You wish they would not be imaginary."

Damn it. Right below the belt and almost literally. Her Mother didn't let her have much time to forget where she got half her brains from.

She gulped and gestured dismissively, "Now look who's being perverted." She grinned. "I must almost come to wonder if you're not the one who is secretly in love."

Leandra snorted and broke into laughter. And she laughed, and laughed, and laughed … a bit too much. Hawke was rolling her eyes.

Alright, maybe that was a bit weak. She was getting rusty… And she practically said she was in love.

Tomorrow was going to be a long night…

It really will be :D and fun. Hope you enjoyed!