THIS CHAPTER: First a bit of psychological analysis of kinda everyone, then resuming with the action. It's longer indeed, but you're free to skip stuff. I'll separate each description with lines so if you wanna keep reading whoever or whatever, scroll down and start wherever. Redundantly whenever.

To Cheers: Sorry for that. I confused two separate recipes and put them together because yeah, my brain. I know I tasted the orange sauce and it was way better than any cherry abracadabra, but the names put together, while not making sense, seemed to make some sense in that particular altered state that I was in. It's a secret, I won't tell. But again, apologies, you seem be passionate about these ducks and their deliciousness :D Now I'm hungry. Oh yay.

Unbeknownst to many, there was a war between Varric and Isabela. They had went through endless debates over Hawke's psychology and deciphering her mind games. Hawke was a calculated metaphorically evil demonspawn from the Void that foresaw almost everyone's moves and read people like an open book. Of course, for two people who were skilled in the same domain and consequently were stamped by overthinking and logical reasoning of everything, justifying all things through intellectualization rather than listening to some gut feeling… Hawke made anyone with a little brain go very paranoid in trying to interpret everything she did or said. Did she mean what she said? Did it have some hidden meaning that would unconsciously manipulate them? Did she know they would think that and simply played with their mind because they would go paranoid, in truth, what she said had no ulterior motive or meaning? And the worst part was that she had this remotely calm quality of her expression that said she knew what you were thinking before you were even thinking it. They could not exaggerate this quality in her. The fact that their minds sought to describe this quality unsettled them. She gave people the very feeling that she knew what they were doing, and her still posture and her deep hazel eyes seemed to say there was no use in what people were thinking, or particularly the words they were struggling to form. They meant nothing.

In so, Varric and Isabela spent a lot of time placing bets and battling each other with their different opinions. They had placed so many bets that they quickly lost track, and switched their beliefs so many times they felt this was exactly what Hawke wanted them to do and she was sitting somewhere drinking her tea in a calmly malevolent manner and laughing quietly like an evil maniac.

Isabela saw something, Varric didn't believe her. Yet Varric knew before she even thought of it. No one should ever doubt when he said he knew everythingthat one needed to know. He didn't see it, he didn't have any proof, but he knew; and when he tackled Fenris with his statement he didn't think for a second it was a long shot. Of course, Fenris said there was nothing to it and Varric, evermore the dwarven lie detector, believed that he was telling the truth. In that, whatever happened didn't matter anymore and nothing else was more to come from it. And of course, as vague and dumb as that was for Fenris to believe, he didn't press on it. It wasn't the best time to delve in feelings and have a good old manly talk about women and how they are the poison that both killed and cured the man.

But Isabela was going broke. She needed the coin and she made it her mission to prove Varric that some of the bets they placed were won by her. Therefore, she had two things to worry about. That she might have been wrong, that Varric didn't believe her and that she had to get some perfect moment to prove it. Wait, that was three. And what time was better to play with people's minds and cause trouble then at a celebration gathering? One which started very courteous and passive aggressive, forcing everyone to keep to their wits and watch how they behaved... and then resume their festivities in a more familiar open territory where people would be desperate to drink away and discharge of all the tension that had built up the first half of the evening? And what if that tension could be doubled up by an outside very much intentional force? Varric wasn't the only one who knew how to manipulate and control everything from the shadows. The only problem being... if he was already onto some evil scheme himself. And then there was Hawke, who needed at least two more bottles of liquor before she was slightly less observant and wicked herself.

Well, well... too bad she wasn't a very bright mastermind in a difficult social setting such as this dinner party, when her mother was there to make her spew fumes out of her ears and make her eyes bleed. And that also meant Hawke was to up her dose of poison with every little line that her mother muttered sweetly about her sweet little flaws. And seeing Fenris was notin a very good place either with those clothes, the tension and being annoyed by Anders every step of the way... oh, it was going to be a very good night. Isabela could hear the delicious tingle of the coins dangling in the purse she would soon receive with the most tauntingly victorious smile. It would be a very musical night.

This was the wonderland of crazy people. And the best part was that mentally disturbed evil people like themselves got to screw with each other. Ergo, this was the nectar of the gods diving from the sky with full force and a one way ticket down to Kirkwall. But the gods of trickery had to work hard at calculating their moves and fashioning their strategy, for the gods of war were also present, ranging their battalions of strength and resistance of the mind with their own veteran strategies… and their Legion Commander was still not drunk enough.

Dinner was almost over now and there would've been no more than an hour with dessert before they would take off to the Hanged Man. Hawke was cheerful and calm, which was a good sign that she was screaming and thrashing inside. Anders became really cheerful and not because of drinking. Justice didn't let him get drunk anymore, he said. Whatever that meant… And he'd took every subtle, passive aggressive opportunity to pick on Fenris. He in turn, started to become very calm and content, dejecting all of the mage's little attacks tactfully. Never mind the witty polite come backs he made, his tone alone was a hard testament, while probably false, that Anders meant nothing and all his attempts to rival him were pointless. But how could he deny a man so driven by his will to bark away all that pent up frustration? Fenris took delight in the small things, such as seeing Anders exhaust himself so consciously. And in turn, Fenris was drinking, getting dizzier and more disconnected from his problems and his own frustration with the annoying mage, so what in the world would press his buttons? Nothing.

It was hard to say who was the most disturbed person in the room, the most hauntingly screwed up, the most dangerously close to becoming a villain, the most likely one to bite the dust if their weaknesses happened to be strangled one day into blasting out in the world. Each of them were powerful and thus a ticking time bomb with a repressed appetite for destruction. However, just like everyone else in the world, each of them were still keeping it together because everyone had their own defenses, some healthy, some questionably dangerous and some just outright weird.

As far as the world could fathom, these were the outlines of this terrible group.

- Varric -

Varric was a charming talkative fellow who knew his way with words, he could find the funny in anything, and his seemingly effortless and indiscriminate attitude towards the world made about just anyone instantly like him and if not right away, he would grow on them in time. He knew everything about everyone, undeniably an imperative asset for their team, but not quite as desirable as far as inside dynamics went. Nobody wanted their dirty laundry known to him. Of course, while he didn't show much interest in their naughty little secrets, this was not much about everyone as it was about him.

He had a great hidden need to control everything, know things, create things from already existing realities with his stories, and consequently he could control all his hidden fears and anxiety. It was no secret that… he kept a secret. Knowing all the secrets from the outside conveyed a lot of power, while he in turn didn't give almost any leads about the nature of his life, his past and his actual desires or his purpose in life. He created characters in the image of already existing persons and exaggerated their actions and their attitudes to his liking –he created strong and impressive figures that actively left their print on the world, something that he in turn was less likely to do as he perceived it. Through them, he repaired his faults and lack of real power. Through them, he also sublimated his desire to act out of compassion and genuine strive to help people. Outside, he really needed to be needed. There was no need for sorcery or science to guess why he enjoyed being under Hawke's wing and why he let her take her stand so actively, getting all the fingers pointed at her and in turn, her taking everybody down with no hesitation. She couldn't do it alone however.

And in part, he was frustrated that he couldn't really control her even if he genuinely wanted to. And at the moment, that little feeling was growing dangerously vast because he really did care about whatever was happening or apparently not happening. Aside from that, she was taking an active stand against politics too. He cared enough to worry silently and let her do whatever she wanted to. But his compulsion to control things was exactly what it was –compulsory. It was stamped already in the parchment of his character and his thoughts, and it didn't come as a surprise that he bribed the hell out of people to know exactly what was happening at the Keep and who knew what and who was for or against Hawke and who so much as breathed her name for the last week. He was scared shitless that something was going to go very wrong.

- Anders -

Anders was a shady character who couldn't be more redundant in his predicament of having his psyche cleaved. As in, besides that problem that normal people have, he also was yet again cleaved because he had a crazy vindictive spirit inside his head too. Talk of schizophrenia… but more importantly, he seemed to be very driven and though he didn't care to hide his rancor towards his aggressors, there was a high chance this rancor was even greater and more likely to be acted upon one day. They didn't know much, except for the fact that he had escaped the Circle so many times he had lost count himself. That meant he had spent a lifelong sentence of being at the mercy of his aggressors and he had known no other life for most of his years than to learn how to slide through the cracks of authority and defy superiors as much as he could without open assaults. His mind was already attuned to survival through trickery and utmost patience within that trickery. Add an unstable spirit of justice who, just like him, was thrown into a world he didn't understand except for one great instinct – justice, along with Anders's great instinct as a mage –survival and freedom on a long shot… Well, one might think twice as to why he had taken such a noble duty to heal the needy for nothing in return. Excessive altruism might not have been some inborn trait, but a conversion in behavior to remedy guilt. And the reasons he unconsciously felt guilty could have been colossal in numbers: lying, murder at his own behest, murder at Justice's behest, getting other mages killed by his own negligence, being powerless to save people any other way, having to leave the Wardens where he actually did something useful, and the list went on.

Of course, there was also Justice who wanted to do, well, justice, but how much of that could one take to justify his actions? There were two beings inside of him, each with their own desires. One could argue that they were somehow combined, that their purposes attuned to each other and present Anders was born, but which one was really corrupting the other? He said he heard his thoughts as his own, but they were one now. That didn't make any sense. Well, most of what Anders said never made any sense, but the point was that there was still a wall that separated the two beings, and only sometimes they exchanged forces and synced with one another. Sometimes Justice took over his body and showed himself to the world and he spoke into a creepy preternatural voice, therefore the spirit didn't truly merge with Ander's soul, but simply lived inside a human vessel. Spirits were also drawn to lyrium, the substance in the outer world which was magic in its raw form and held the distinct energy of the Fade in its content. Since mages were living vessels of magic and their connection to the Fade was much stronger, Justice was without intention a genuine ripened parasite.

He came to Ferelden to watch over his friend, he said? And he spent all his days healing the needy. Why not run away from Kirkwall and do his altruistic work somewhere else now that his friend was gone? It's not as if he was tied down by some affectionate bonds. His being as a Circle mage and then an apostate instructed his mind to never catch roots anywhere. One being sought justice, the other probably also wanted penance. Rather masochistic of him to remain in the heartland of Templar country, wasn't it?

- Merrill -

Merrill had been a free mage, but her only tie to the world had been her clan. Even with that, she was still different than the others and the only person to grant her safety and to properly identify with was the Keeper. Having had so much pressure put on her to train to be the next one, she felt lonely and powerless. The Keeper, while a steady parental figure, was a protector of them all and she shared her care with everyone equally. All of them were oppressed and shared the same unfair destiny and the only home they had was where their hearts were, with one another. The Keeper had more reasons to give her attention above everyone else, but any sort of little attention given to the other children meant rivalry, especially since Merrill was the different one. She needed to convert the rivalry and her feelings of loneliness and inadequacy into some higher purpose. There was no mystery there for why she welcomed any sort of peaceful, friendly presence to come to her help. Demons were just spirits. It was not their fault they were what they were and she had enough power of will not to succumb to their compulsion to possess people. Wasn't it somehow poetic? Demons were misunderstood creatures and they wanted to feel what worldly beings felt. They were chained down and cast away into another world, much like the outer world, but somehow more stripped of the things that demons needed, and there was no joy for them in the Fade. Did that make them evil? It was their nature and their ultimate need, what their being dictated to do. Merrill wanted justice for her people, cast out and misunderstood, looked upon as inferior beings and treated like mindless animals. They were unworthy of being seen as entitled to a kingdom, a home, the right to live, think and believe. It was the lost knowledge of the higher ones, the much wiser ones, the people who strived to know the world truly and ask the questions without fearing the answer; that lost knowledge was what made this present world so easy to be taken down by those who had the power to twist and control it to their liking. The Chantry took the opportunity, the humans took the opportunity, Tevinters had surely taken the opportunity.

But how could lonely helpless beings get the sudden courage to cast themselves away from the only world they knew and that could protect them? How did Merrill get to leave her clan with such fierce drive to do whatever she wanted to do? How was she to discover the lost knowledge of her heritage by living in a city full of Templars and people who treated her like dirt? The Keeper and her had disagreements, yes –she was a blood mage and through this power she could learn things. But was her clan, the only family she knew worth to be sacrificed for this higher purpose? Wasn't this insanely far-fetched ambition a means through which the child earns the respect and affection of the superior parent or authority figure who inspired this principle in the first place? It was a Keeper's job to remember and preserve. She was doing a Keeper's job in Kirkwall without the actual pressure of being responsible for a whole lot of people. Quite masochistic of her too to go to such extents to earn respect and honor from more than just a lousy little clan. She was not to be understood, she was not to be saved. The demon offered solace and a chance, a homage, a courtesy to both relieve her of loneliness and to work on her aspiration to save her people through a small little sacrifice, in that she was the sacrifice.

- Aveline -

Aveline was the living example of a woman determined to stick her ground without making use of some evil womanly power, at least not in an obvious way. She was strong-willed and even stronger in battle, both neither the civilized world nor the savage vault of ill-intended people among it were enough to bring her down. She resembled the old type of Ferelden Knight that defended and protected. Her father had brought her to be independent and driven, and bestowing a name that conveyed the meaning of these attributes for some reason, didn't really make her happy smiles and rainbows about it. She hated her name, but it was not very clear why. Perhaps she didn't enjoy being put up in a box, even if that box was positive and resembled the things she freely chose to do and represent. Perhaps it created a lot of pressure on her and stripped her of the joy of choosing instead of being destined to or some other ancient sorcery she fiercely discarded to be true. She put her own dying husband to the sword and afterwards it seemed as though nothing would bring her back to her old self. Destiny made it so that she was yet again almost forced to live up to her natural drive as well as that name by arriving in Kirkwall. She had little choice but to join the Guard and again, had little choice when being made Captain. But her predicament was clear and having been instructed as a soldier to resist at any pressure helped her against diving into some path of self-destruction. Her duty came first however, and whatever whimsical desires and whiny excuses her mind made didn't have much hope to be acted upon. She had to keep a tone of dominance and more often than not, strict and aggressive, because she was a leader. She was responsible for a lot of people, her guards and consequently, all the citizens of Kirkwall, and while appearing to be overly annoyed with every abominable act of stupidity coming from either her superiors or her men, she loved what she was doing. She converted all her feelings into work and her frustrations were not felt as emotions because she intellectualized everything. Yes, Aveline surely knew how to tank her emotions with logic. But in truth, she liked having control over everything and she enjoyed taking care of other people. The only thing it was annoying about it except for having to bear Senechal Bran's pretentious risen eyebrow was the thought that she had no choice over it in the end.

- Isabela -

Isabela was a direct and independent woman who more often than not, showed the reality she was trying to push back was representative of the opposite situation. She was mostly indirect and evasive, and used boldness as a move to evade even more. She used her femininity as both a sign of confidence and independence, and a way to exaggerate the power conveyed through it to deflect from the reality that she was also quite alone, helpless and damned. Her mother sold her for almost nothing without a care, she was abandoned and her husband controlled her. She was tossed from one indifferent hand to the other and it brought her only pain and she could do nothing about it until one day the Maker smiled upon her and sent an assassin at her aggressor's throat. What happened next was exciting and dangerous. In that she became exciting and dangerous. She used her power over men to get her way, instead of letting herself screwed around with by them. She stripped herself of the conscious ability to care for others and she abandoned them first so she would never have to know anguish again with being abandoned like she had been by her mother. She didn't have feelings for people and she considered no one a friend, she trusted nobody.

She was bisexual and her usual conquests were women instead of men. If she wanted to punish herself, she would have gone for men who were much more likely to try and rape, steal or kill her. Men were also easy. Women were harder to crack and surpass, much like she was, and it gave her the pleasure of the hunt and the conquest. That gave her control, that gave her power, that gave her assurance. She became the assaultive one and she needed to be in control of her own fate, like she was in control of her ship and her crew. She worked as a mercenary doing the dirty work of evil and cruel people, resolving that she only served as the means and not the intention. She wasn't to blame for the shit in the world and what mattered was to protect yourself, ensure your own fortune and give a damn about nothing else. Hawke gave that appearance too, but Isabela knew there was a burnt little saint within Hawke that couldn't help but make her dive into danger for other reasons that her own fortune. And that danger that haunted her at every turn was so pointlessly drawn that it made Isabela feel pity on her. After all, once Isabela let herself slip with acting on her kindness, it stamped her destiny with havoc and nightmares, the one she was in right now.

Of course, Fenris and Hawke were probably the most disturbed persons of them all and perhaps the most likely to harrow hell and havoc upon the world if their weaknesses were taunted. Both of them could cycle easily from compassion to cruelty, from utter calmness to raging anger. One second they could be unreserved angels, the next they could turn into the most terrifying devil. Funny and ironic that they were raised in the seemingly most different surroundings and yet they were not so very different at their rawest form.

The undeniable possibility was that Fenris did have a family that he could have been crazy to protect, but his memory bore no recollection. His psyche, his soul and his being however, didn't need some conscious thought to continue making him be himself, whatever that was, both his past self and his present self. Conscious memories had no real function, because what the mind dictated people to do was by far mostly unconscious and all the experiences –both the ones he remembered and the ones he didn't – and what those experiences made out of him were already stamped within his being. Past the power of his bold anger and misery caused by the trauma of the ritual and everything else that followed, his life as a slave, inarguably still painful… his other traits, his likings and his attitudes could have belonged to the Fenris before that trauma. For all one knew, he could have been the protective son or brother like Hawke was, always there to tank the dangers and sacrifice himself. He could have still been a sarcastic elf who liked animal jokes, muttered almost everything in a tone that uncontrollably went into G-flat and B-grump and his voice could have still been the very sound of rolling eyes. And if that were true, without a doubt, his amnesia was a godsend and a blessing.

In turn, Hawke had the burden of living with all memories intact and that did make a difference. Still having a family also made a difference. She was born on the run and remained with the people that were just as much in danger as her all her life, before one by one they seemed to be taken away at random at the mercy of an ultimately merciless destiny. She had all the motivation to have a much bigger mental breakdown than him, just as much as she had all the more motivation than him to keep it together and work her ass off actively for whatever her family needed, because she was the pillar and the rock that held it together. They both feared discovery of course, but treated their predicament a little differently. But their story was yet to disentangle much like everyone else's. There was still time to figure them out and witness either their redemption or their demise.

Evening, Hawke's Estate

"And then the guy cleaved through that sick bastard's back, turned him around and with one blow totally and mercilessly decapitated the f- fiend!" Varric said and gestured dramatically. "Then we ran for the hills on the roofs and down the buildings like the steady but quick charge of the swan across the lake and up in the sky! Well, it was exactly the opposite with us, but you get the metaphor." At that Hawke rolled her eyes and shot her mother a look as if to say he was exaggerating even if speaking in metaphors. Varric of course grinned and had to add, "And this brave little fiend here though completely exhausted and out of her mind, took turn to heal all of us."

With that Fenris coughed immediately to remind Varric he shouldn't tell the next great thing that happened because of that splendid little move. Hawke in turn simply chuckled and said, "Nothing like a little magic with greeting the sun in our massive prison break."

"Hm… what is missing is the Queen of Antiva catching wings and taking off in the horizon sprinkling fairy dust over you as you ran," Leandra said, her tone rather too vague to be sure it was sarcastic or not. She got up and said, "I'll go get the spring rolls."

"Since when do you heal?" Merrill asked with a heightened tone. "I thought you were a damager no matter your choice of weapon."

"I'm full of surprises," Hawke said cheerfully. "And I had a great teacher."

"I'm not that great, Hawke, no need for flattery," Anders said with a smile.

"Not you, my Father," she retorted and pointed at him calmly. "You definitely suck."

Fenris quickly snorted in amusement and continued drinking peacefully from his glass. Anders in turn pressed in hidden offence to save it, "If you mean at teaching, then I definitely agree."

"Yeah, your teaching… that's what I meant," Hawke said evilly with a grin and drank away too.

"Hawke… you're undeniably a great mage," Anders started in an annoyed tone and looked towards the kitchen door as if to make sure Leandra was really gone. Then he fixed his eyes on her and continued, "But you're a terrible, mocking, insubordinate, obnoxious, stubborn and highly defying student."

"I'm a terrible, mocking, insubordinate, obnoxious, stubborn and whatever else you said person," Hawke said in amusement. "Did you think I would turn that to the contrary when dealing with other obnoxious, stubborn, terrible, whatever people?"

"I may be stubborn and all those other things, but I am not obnoxious," Anders said cheerfully.

"Oh no," Fenris said calmly. "I'm sure you are the joy of all joys somewhere down in the colourful lands of fairies and unicorns."

"And you're surely Knight-Captain Pleasantness in Pink Butterflies and Smiley Rainbows Land," Anders muttered sarcastically.

"Legion Commander, please," Fenris said. "I've worked hard for my title."

"Commander of the Stupid I take it," Anders retorted.

"No, just Commander," Fenris said calmly. "As I said, I wouldn't want to upset those people's nervous system with such knowledge."

"Don't worry, Commander, either way you're still a disappointment," Anders replied.

Fenris took another great sip and said, "I don't, for either way I still don't care."

"Same goes with me, Teach'," Hawke said cheerfully and raised her glass.

"Oh, admit it," Anders said with a grin. "You're having fun."

"Tyeah I am, look at my dosage," Hawke said, raising her glass.

"No, I meant with me, training your mana," Anders corrected. "You like doing what you do and you're using any means to deflect and prove it to be otherwise."

"Yeah, you caught me," Hawke said sarcastically. "I'm totally pretending to be a pain the ass because I'm horrified you'll notice I'm having fun." Then she drew up the most childish smile and said, "Or you could just safely say that it's the other way around –I'm having fun because I am being a pain in the ass and you can't stand it."

"If I couldn't stand it, I would've kicked you out of my clinic on the first day," Anders said while rolling his eyes. He leaned back in his chair. "You're not as bad as you think you are."

"No, I'm not as not bad as you think I am because I'm not really trying," Hawke said assertively. "And yes the overly redundant grammatically incorrect formation was necessary to prove the point."

"And you trying hard to prove it is definitely a testament to how much you're really not trying," Anders retorted.

"What I'm really not trying is not trying to create insane and incoherent antonym of questions to not make you unable to not follow nothing that I'm not saying," Hawke said childishly.

"My head is certainly not not exploding," Varric intervened in a genuine tone of discomfort. His hands were on his head.

Hawke smiled crookedly and shrugged. "I'm not filled with lack of remorse."

"Seriously, don't do the opposite of stopping what with making my brain dance and twist under the anti-sunlight," Varric said calmly and narrowed his eyes at her. "You're certainly by no means not non-annoying."

"Hm, that still makes sense to me," Hawke said while appearing to be pondering on it. "Time to up my medication again."

"How negatively unreasonable," Fenris muttered and drank away. "It seems somebody finally managed to bring Varric to genuine exasperation."

"A success! I'm drinking to that," Hawke said childishly.

"I'm sorry, are we speaking in sarcastic double-negative one-positive sentences?" Varric asked. "Because if so, then you're right. Nobody manages to bring me down."

Hawke and Fenris suddenly exchanged a subtle look joined by little smirks and an evil spark in their eyes. Varric quickly scowled and repeatedly moved his pointy finger at each of them. "What was that? Did you just share a look?"

"Nope," Hawke said calmly, sipping from her glass.

Varric then looked at Fenris and he shrugged. "Don't look at me, I was just flinching."

Hawke chuckled and pointed at him with her glass as she said, "Yeah that historical flinch of his has been so misleading over the years. For a good time I thought he kept winking and giving me the saucy eyebrow."

"And then came the enormous pleasure of seeing you feel like a fool," Fenris added, amused and smirking.

"Maybe he really was giving you the saucy eyebrow but simply denied it to play with your head," Anders intervened, smirking as well.

"Preposterous!" Hawke exclaimed. "What would that accomplish?"

"My, whatever could that accomplish?" Anders pretended sarcastically while resting his chin in his hand. "Men are so deeply complicated."

"Is that what you tell yourself every time a man rejects your advances?" Fenris fired back.

"And that concludes the mystery of who is worse than Isabela at using the most predictable of cheap shots," Anders retaliated.

Hawke ignored their stings and said, "Anders is right. Men are not complicated." She smiled and added, "Which means they don't waste time playing with people's heads, making sorceries and trying to plant ideas that have almost no chance of catching roots."

"Unless they are really evil," Anders added while grinning. Then he lifted his eyebrows and subtly titled his head in the Fenris's direction. "Or simply pathetic."

Fenris looked at him and narrowed his eyes, saying sharply, "I saw that."

"Well, I didn't try very hard to hide it," Anders said mockingly.

"I hope you can try better in dodging the fist that's going to land in your face if you keep mocking me," Fenris said rather calmly.

"Ah, and we were getting along so well," Anders said sarcastically. "And I thought you said threats were typical only of mages."

"When they have no chance of winning," Fenris corrected, smirking confidently. "Do you really think I'd have a difficult time taking you and your weak little man-dress down?"

"The only scenario where that would be true is if I would be shackled in mana burning chains," Anders said self-assuredly, leaning forward against the table to mark his cocky territory.

Fenris positively laughed. "You have no chance with or without your magic."

"Oh, because of your markings?" Anders asked. "I've faced far worse than you in the magical resistance department. Your abilities are fairly equal to the ones of sickly dying weak in the knees Templar recruit."

Fenris contained his scowl and leaned forward with his hands on the table too as if to say, "You want to test that theory?" Instead he calmly said, "I did not in fact pertain to my special abilities at all. You are still a poor little chicken compared to what I can do."

"In the battle of mage versus warrior, mage always wins, Fenris," Anders retorted confidently.

"Unless you're thinking of having a little blood magic up your sleeve, your statement is pathetically foolish," Fenris said sharply.

"Magic is more powerful than any mighty swing of a sword. It's a general truth," Anders replied.

"Ahem," Hawke finally intervened. "I've beat the crap out of plenty of mages only using my sword, including blood mages." She smiled mockingly and gestured, "The trick is not to swing your sword mightily in the sky where it could reach and cleave your back while the mage also has a free and open pass to direct his attack right at your chest."

Anders didn't answer, but shot Fenris an angry glance because he started laughing again. At that he simply shrugged and gestured at her as he said, "Don't look at me, I'm not the reliable source who positively burned you just a second ago."

"Jee, I seem to have been dreaming all those times when I had to dispel your being magically paralyzed in combat," Anders finally retorted to Hawke.

"That was in a group fight," she corrected. "It's not the same in one on one combat." Then she added sharply, "Not that I am suggesting we should test that theory. Of course, if you're really worked up about it what with your dumb manly pride and reeking testosterone poisoning my air," she said mockingly and pointed towards the hallway as she continued, "then please take it outside. I just cleaned the carpets."

"No need for gory blood baths on my part," Anders said, smiling. "I was simply speaking in theory."

Fenris snorted mockingly. "Evidently."

"Now, now, enough with murder in your tones and possibly also in your future," Varric cut them. "I'm vetoing on a big NO on your annoying cock fight at least as far as today goes."

Hawke raised the glass and nodded in Varric's direction, but Isabela intervened, "Now why would you rob us of the incredible fun that we can have seeing who's first to eat dirt off the ground?"

"Jee, I don't know, maybe because it's either me or Hawke who's gonna have to clean up and pay for all the damages," Varric said in annoyance. "And I don't know about Hawke, but I'm surely not good for it, in-between loaning Rivaini money all the time," he paused and narrowed his eyes at Isabela, "which you haven't paid me back since the day I met you by the way, then losing money to Lord Broodsworthy all the time because I don't seem to learn my lesson, then having the Merchant's Guild breathing down my neck, the Coterie still biting my ass too, watching over, Daisy, bribing the G-," he said and stopped because he forgot Aveline was there. "Well yeah, my plate is seriously full." He raised his dominant palm while closing his eyes and finished, "Thusly my no is final."

Hawke smiled childishly in her chair and said to Isabela, "Told you it's the real deal when he uses 'thusly'."

"You're such a hypocrite," Isabela protested, crossing her arms. "If Hawke and I went at each other's throats and asked for a duel, you'd be all eyes and ears and having a massive nosebleed all while bleeding out of your eyeballs as well," she said confidently and then winked. "Well the last ones would be bleeding blue, of course."

"Why would they be bleeding?" Merril asked in confusion. "And why blue? Would his blood freeze out fear and turn blue? Or is it really true that nobleborn people have blue blood?"

Varric sighed and gestured with his palm. "While I won't entirely deny that, Rivaini, you still wouldn't genuinely kill each other in the process."

"It's true, I wouldn't," Hawke said, smiling. "I couldn't possibly live with myself," she said and paused to put her hand over her heart, "knowing that you won't get to see me do my classic victory dance after I beat the crap out of you in less than thirty seconds."

"Aw, Hawke, that's cute," Isabela said confidently, "Thinking that you can outrun me in a fair fight."

"I entirely stand with my point," Hawke replied. "You don't play fair," she said, shrugging and grinning. "Neither will I."

"My point –missing it. If we both play fair, you wouldn't have a chance," Isabela said cockily.

Hawke genuinely laughed and flung her arms out. "Bitch you wanna test that theory?" She rose from her chair and very assertively raised her fist and smiled as she said, "Meet you out in five."

"Wow, you're quicker to threaten than any man at this table," Isabela said in amusement. "Which is arguably a good thing." She put her hands on the table and leaned forward. "I certainly like feisty. I'll most definitely not refuse a duel." Then she shrugged all-grinningly. "Only thing missing is Varric's veto."

They both peered quickly at Varric, who now looked extremely pale with his mouth slightly opened, gradually losing all expression short of something that seemed to make him resemble a ghost. Finally, he let escape his lips, "I'm so confused."

Merrill leaned over to Isabela and asked, "Is this it, when his blood turns blue?"

"Yes, Kitten, this is exactly it," Isabela said in amusement and couldn't stop smirking in delight at Varric's utter petrification. "Well?"

"I'm still confused," Varric drawled again in a ghostly manner, clutching at the table.

"I'll speak for Varric. He's giving you the thumbs up," Anders said quickly.

"No he isn't," Fenris cut him. "And… I think he's having a stroke."

"How about we let the populace vote on it?" Hawke said eagerly. "Does that seem fair?"

"A chance to see the tramp bite the dirt, I'm all in," Aveline said and raised her hand. Anders raised his hand too. Even Sandal did, although it was arguable whether he understood what was going on or he innocently mirrored everyone else. That left Merrill and Fenris, and Varric who was still pale and out of it. Merrill shook her head no. Varric finally lifted his hand, but was still staring into empty space.

"Come on, Fen-Fen, I know you want to," Isabela said all-grinning.

"I…" Fenris started, but didn't seem to be able to continue his sentence, arguable as to why. He stared blankly for a second, then fixed his eyes on Hawke, but all she did was lift her eyebrows and wait for him with arms crossed. A few more seconds of harrowing silence and he finally scowled and said, "This is ridiculous. Find your own time to be utterly childish."

"Seriously?" Hawke, Isabela and Anders all shouted. Then Hawke muttered to Varric, "This is bullshit. You can't let him have the last say in this. You have the veto."

"I'm… gonna leave the veto pending," Varric said. "My reason came back as soon as I accidentally glanced in the direction of Blondie's nose hair."

"You're gonna let nose hair decide a no is the right call?" Hawke asked in outrage. "You're an infuriating old man, Varric."

"I'm also a practical man," Varric said calmly. "Which means there's no chance in hell I'll let Rivaini die and get out of her debt."

"Wow, that's your excuse," Isabela muttered angrily. "There would have been bets placed, and you would have surely corrupted people into placing their money on the one you probably already know will lose." She flung her arms out. "Easy sodding money."

"Yep, I always win my bets," Varric said flatly. That quickly irritated Isabela, because she knew this was a subtle taunt in her direction for all the bets put on Hawke and Fenris that he had won so far, and the ones he would probably do anything for to win just the same. This wasn't over, she thought. Oh, you're on Tethras, she also thought. Whatever glimpse of kindness that remained in her deciding not to cause trouble tonight, he managed to kill faster than he did the fun.

"Ah, whatever," Isabela said nonchalantly. "It wouldn't have been as fun as seeing Fenris duel Hawke. After all, you two are the only ones who could fight with all your arsenal of crazy abilities and still call it a fair game."

"Hm, that's true," Hawke said while cupping her chin. "But I'd certainly hate to ruin his dress."

"I'm wearing pants, I- no," Fenris said and shook his head. "I am not getting sucked into this."

"Psht. Coward," Hawke muttered and finally sat down again. "Speaking of sucking, you suck. The fun. Out of everything. To eternity. Black, dull, utterly boring eternity."

"That is for the best," Fenris said flatly, sipping from his glass.

"The best of what? Dying from boredom?" Isabela protested.

"Stop putting ideas in their head, Rivaini," Varric said sharply. "Biggest most gigantic no on that one too."

Isabela chuckled, then she sighed aloud. "Oh, it's not a shame really. I mean we all know who would win. Alas." She came up from her chair and asked Hawke, "Mind if I find something to wear so I won't feel like Aveline's much prettier twin?" She took off before getting an answer.

"Sure, I guess," Hawke said, but started to appear as if she was lost in thought and just mechanically answered without listening. "Who did she mean would be winning?"

"Beats me," Varric said. "Although considering she cockily stated she'd win against you, which she thusly said cockily because she had no sheer confidence in what she said –well that and the only one shoulder shrug – I'm pretty sure she meant you."

"Of course she meant me," Hawke said and rolled her eyes.

"Did I just see you do the exact same thing that Isabela did when she, as Varric put it, did not have any confidence in what she had said?" Fenris asked while smirking and his eyes narrowed, his eyebrow going up.

"He said 'thusly' Fenris, you can't get out of that," Hawke pressed in irritation.

Fenris narrowed his eyes again, leaned over the table and said, "You just deflected."

"I offered a compelling argument," Hawke protested.

He shook his head and smirked. "You deflected by offering a separate, in truth not really a 'compelling' argument because you did not have the confidence of simply stating that you can take me down."

"I already took you down at Satinalia," Hawke said quickly. "Oops, sorry, I forgot that was supposed to be a secret."

Fenris broke into laughter. "That was pure charade to entertain the crowds."

"No it wasn't, you're just saying that now to save your ass because nobody at this table saw you but me, so it's a he said she said situation," Hawke said angrily.

Fenris smiled and said, "Did you really think I would be that cruel as to actually take down a woman in a dress wielding impractical duel weapons for all the world to see?"

At that, her face became red and she was almost literally blowing fumes out of her ears. And at that, Fenris smirked grotesquely strong.

"You little flaming weasel," Hawke growled in irritation, narrowed eyes growing murderous. "That's it. After dessert, I'm owning your ass."

"After dessert, you say?" Fenris asked coldly. "But then who would clean up all the mess? I'm certainly not good for it."

"Oh, don't worry, princess. I promise I won't cut your dress," Hawke said mockingly.

"This is childish," Fenris said flatly. "Pester somebody else with your inane threats."

"Outside, now," Hawke said and rose up.

"Please sit down," Fenris said while rolling his eyes.

Anders cut in suddenly, "You're genuinely threatened, aren't you? Varric, you know best, isn't he pissing his pants right about now?"

"You can simply check, he's sitting right next to you," Varric said nonchalantly. "But yeah, that little smile that went over his face right after I deflected your request says he's scared shitless that I might veto it."

"And now he's shooting you the scornful look," Hawke added confidently and crossed her arms. "Not concealing it that much either."

"Perhaps because this is utterly ridiculous and you're all idiots," Fenris muttered in annoyance.

"Painful, how he tries to save it now," Hawke said tauntingly.

"You're only saying that to deflect from your own diffidence," Fenris fired back.

"My own? So that follows… that you don't have much confidence yourself, right?" Hawke also fired and cupped her chin. "My, however could we see who's right?"

"Enough," Fenris uttered coldly. "I won- "

"I'll duel you, Hawke," Anders interrupted with a conniving smile. "It's still fair, all with me having special abilities and you having both forms of attack."

"Oh… well…" she started and shot an unnerved glance to Fenris for a second. Feeling angry and provoked, she shrugged and said, "Fine by me. At least someone has balls."

Isabela came back in the meantime and shouted happily, "I'm back, did you miss me b-"

"Are you an idiot?" Fenris asked sharply, looking at Anders. "Evidently a rhetorical question."

"I'm an opportunist and I don't mind taking on a challenge," Anders said confidently. He shrugged and his tone fell into mockery, "You snooze, you lose."

"I snooze just by listening to you," Fenris said in annoyance. "Would that I could fall asleep forever, but unfortunately your strangled soprano voice is keeping me up and in pain."

"Life is pain, highness," Varric intervened. "Anyone who tells you differently is selling something."

"Yep, life is pain, and I thirst for it, baby!" Hawke shouted childishly. She winked at Anders. "Thanks for granting me the opportunity to inflict it upon you literally, Teach'"

"Talk is so cheap, but you know that," Anders said. "I know that… Varric knows that." He looked at the dwarf. "Well?"

"My veto is… pending," Varric said. "Check back with me after dessert."

"If you say no the third time in a row, I'm going to hit you," Hawke said angrily.

"Oh, I certainly didn't expect threatening with violence would come up AGAIN tonight," Varric said sarcastically. "Sit down, Missy, I want my des-"

"What the hell?!" Hawke came shouting, her shirt all wet and stained by red wine from Isabela's fallen glass.

"Sorry," Isabela said innocently. "It was an accident, I swear."

"Well we certainly know who would win from you and me with that unsteady hand," Hawke said grumpily, then took off in a fit of anger and in silence.

"Is it a cheap shot if I say she seems to really need the 'D'… for duel?" Isabela asked in amusement.

After a good thirty seconds of silence and murderous looks, Merrill's came innocently, "Is it cheap because you didn't use the whole word?"

"I'm sorry to say, but Mojo ate all the spring rolls just when I finished making them," Leandra's voice came from behind. "Fenris, could you come into the kitchen?"

"Certainly," Fenris said politely and urgently rose from his chair.

2 minutes later

"You asked for m- oh." Between freezing in shock and beholding the greatest scenery he had ever received what with Hawke being in a very black, very lacy, very revealing bra, he stumbled upon the table by the door and a candlestick fell. He caught the candlestick in time and clumsily started juggling it from one hand to another because for some reason he couldn't catch it in place.

"Fenris, what the hell?" she shouted, covering herself with the purple shirt. "What are you doing here?"

He juggled the candlestick a bit more from one hand to his knee and then the other and finally caught it right and placed it on the table again, against which he hit himself again and the candlestick shuddered again and downright fell. They both looked at it for a second in silence, after which Fenris didn't seem to resolve that he should turn around.

She stood there with lifted eyebrows and finally asked, "Do you… need something?"

"I… don't remember," Fenris stuttered. He coughed awkwardly and looked away.

"Then get the hell out?" Hawke pressed.

"Right," Fenris said and coughed again, feeling utterly stupid. He went to open the door, but for some reason Hawke quickly stopped him.

"Why did you come here?" she asked.

Fenris desperately tried to take his look off and away from her, because his highly disobedient eyes were stubbornly going where his brain didn't command them to go since she didn't work quite hard in covering her chest to include the cleavage that went with it.

Hawke snapped her fingers in his face. "Hello? Are you still there?"

"Of course I'm still here," Fenris uttered. He frowned and looked up. "Why I am still here?"

"Why were you here to begin with?" she pressed again.

Why were no memories or thoughts coming to him? His mind was dangerously empty and it didn't help that she was standing there all demanding and a covered part of her was staring at him demanding to be roughly uncovered. He killed those only thoughts in his head and looked away the whole time.

"This is utterly familiar," Hawke said, eyes narrowed. "Are you drunk?"

"No," Fenris answered. "A bit. Not much."

"Fenris, I'm not doing this again," Hawke said angrily.

He cleared his throat all with still looking away and proceeded to open the door again. "Forgive me, I will go bring dessert."

Whatever logic was behind this did not make any sense to him, because Hawke caught the door and closed it rapidly in front of his face. Then with a swift and brutal motion she smashed Fenris against it and kissed him violently as if this was the end of the world and there was no more time for doubts and denials. The kiss took the breath out of him. If his mind had worked, he would have found this ridiculously strange and unmotivated, out of nowhere, senseless, but the only sense that laid in his midst was that her lips were rampantly hot against his own and they were close to driving his soul into rampage. What made it enough and cruelly irreversible, was that he found himself devoid of any sense of past chivalry, because his arms veiled her back and crushed her against him totally. It took a few seconds more to understand that what he was touching was hot, bare skin. And it was smooth, and soft and his hands moved and pressed all across it to catch its delightful wholeness, indeed much like a blind sculptor that was determined to feel every curve. With that, a terrible weakness came over him. His hands inadvertently clasped her hips and imprisoned them. While that incredible softness of her lips, her back, her hips seemed to grow, it infected all of his heart and spirit. It maddened and hardened him and now more than ever, he was reduced to nothing.

Sounds, places, people, and most importantly reason, was gone and Fenris was changed. He forced her mouth open and caught her tongue in his. This was no time to call it heartless lack of concern for permissions. His fingers tightened on her hips with less undisguised desire, then with a gentle motion, his cold hand moved slowly up her side, leaving chilly traceries on her skin. Devil that his mindless right hand was, the slow delicate touch made her shudder and involuntarily bite his lip. He was not displeased of course, his low quiet groans confirmed it most pleasurably. But a sudden shock followed, when his hand tactfully stopped right under the bra that it started to burn her ribs. The shirt that covered her was gone. She seemed to grow ever more delirious with his embrace and had to clutch at his elegant coat with both hands. This was curious, she wasn't overpowering him with anything as she did more often than not, rather she used her hands to lean against his chest and let him imprison her and do whatever he felt like doing. It gave him the feeling that she was a lot more fragile and defenseless than before, beautifully weak and delicate under his dominance and solely dependent upon his mercy. It was different and he felt as if his arms were immense, effortlessly powerful. A bit of reason came back with that, however ironically.

"Hawke." His voice was low, urgent, his breath warm against her neck as he kissed her again. "What are you doing?"

With that she parted from his lips and still clutching at his shirt, she looked right into his eyes and appeared perplexed."Sorry, I lost myself for a second there."

"That's your excuse?" Fenris asked, anger edging in his tone. He regretted it as soon as he said it. This was over. Good thing, considering where they were, but very very bad for him even so.

She frowned of course and asked with the same edge in her tone, "I'm sorry, was it not you who came here for no apparent reason?"

Finally, seeing the illicit intimacy that just happened behind the closed door, his memory and reason came back to smite him. "Your mother said you asked for me."

"Why would I-," she started in outrage, but her face became pale with a sudden realization. "Wait." She looked around the room urgently, appearing to be searching for something. Meanwhile she forgot to remain covered and quickly grabbed the sheets away from the bed. There was a little basket-looking object on it. The last thing he heard was her growling, "Oh, you bitch."

Then the object exploded in front of them, storms of red and pink petals flying everywhere and a powerful smell of fragrant perfume infected the room.

"Fucking bitch," Hawke shouted angrily, coughing and shoving all the petals off her hair and shoulders.

"I don't understand," Fenris said, getting the flowers off of him. "Why would your mother…"

"What? No," she shouted very angrily. "This was all Isabela. She probably told my mother to tell you to come and it didn't seem strange since – oh no…"

"What?" he asked.

"This means she's going to have Varric or perhaps everyone barge in here to – "

A loud noise came from the main room, people shouting in alarm. Fenris opened the door just briefly to see what was happening. He saw everyone forming a circle around what he could guess was Anders grasping around Varric's waist because he was choking.

"Why… why do people have to ruin everything I do?" Hawke's voice cried from behind. She grabbed Fenris by the coat and told him, "Quick. Let's go."

"Where? To Heaven?" he asked sarcastically. But when he turned around she had a red shirt and her old coat on. She rushed towards the closet and pushed it strongly forward. There came a trap door on the floor and she beckoned for him to come once she opened it.

"To the Void more likely," Hawke mused as she got on her knees.

"I honestly don't understand anything that is happening right now," Fenris said in contained exasperation.

"You wanna stay here after Varric is finished with his stunt massive choking?" Hawke asked urgently. "Fine by me, but I'm leaving."

"I… no, I would rather literally fall into the Void than remain here," Fenris said. She lifted her eyebrows and nodded as if to say, "I told you so".

But then her face became darker and while keeping the door lifted, she said, "I have to say this now. It was… truly and absolutely done with the best intentions."

"I'm… even more confused," Fenris said, fixing his alarmed eyes on her as he came down.

"You'll understand soon," Hawke said cuttingly. "Just… don't kill me." Then she quickly jumped into the trap door and he followed without further ado.