Morning, Château du Paon

The room was intolerably blue in the morning light. Fenris' eyes followed the trail of peacocks to the stone fireplace. Cold.

Hawke did not wake. She kept snoring loudly, restricting his freedom of movement in a position that could only be described as inexplicable.

Fenris tried to fish out a hand, and calmly wiped the drool off his face. His whole body ached. He massaged his neck and his ear, and absolutely couldn't wait to eat.

But she wasn't waking up, and he tried speaking to her. "Hawke?" he said, trying to untangle himself from her. "Hawke, are you hungry?" he tried again.

"Five more min... min... es," she mumbled and crawled into herself.

Perhaps she was still tired. He couldn't blame her. A lot had gone down in the deep, and he felt a year older. Supposedly, he was about to be.

He went to the balcony and rested his chin and his arms on the railing. Sunlight coated tree leaves underneath him in a golden gleam. He followed the mundane trails of yawning staff. It felt real enough.

What a night, he thought. He felt himself at an infinitely higher level of maturity. Everything had changed. He'd suffered interminable nights of anguish and spiritual pollution, battling the feeling he wasn't real. Like his life, his thoughts, his personality were all make-believe. This night slammed its palm against that feeling, slammed it against the pendulum of indecision and lifted his soul up into his body the way a soul should fit inside a person.

He was going to tell her everything. But first, breakfast.

Fenris put Hawke to bed in a nest of pillows, and went down to the lounge. Staring at the cakes and pastries on display, they didn't make him any hungrier. It all reminded him of Tevinter; all neatly placed with fancy details so that the display was its own art piece.

He bent down to browse. There was an unending list of reasons why he'd find this display annoying, but today there was a particular reason—because there was an unending list of things about Tevinter, and indeed Seheron, that not very long ago he would have confidently taken to the grave.

He looked at his reflection in the display. How do you tell a story where the lines between victim and villain were virtually non-existent? He wasn't your protagonist. He wasn't even his own.

What should he focus on? The facts? The feelings? The painful shape of absence pounding in the archives of his memory? And most importantly, what if these upset him so much that he might cry in front of her?

Shame, shame, shame, he imagined Ravena say in a bored tone in the mirror. It was as if her voice possessed the icing on the cakes and transformed it into nasty writing. Fenris shook his head at the "display". She was wrong. It had nothing to do with him being a man, and everything to do with him hating the feeling of being weak and vulnerable.

But isn't the latter directly tied to the former? he imagined Bucky saying behind him.

No! Well… a little, but not nearly as much as it was tied to his heritage. It was the cursed legacy of his people that bore the mark of failure. Elven men were widely considered to be weak; weaker of body, weaker of will, weaker of intellect; unimaginative, irrational and servile.

So, basically, feminine, he imagined Ravena say.

Fenris sighed and brushed his hair, gazing on at his reflection. Fine, his problem had layers.

It had been an incredible and inescapable pride for him as a personal bodyguard that he could make humans fear him with just a look; and a wholly necessary one. They feared the wildling speaking their tongue in a perfect accent, making human mages gawk in awe and horror at his mysterious powers. He was a slave, but he commanded a room. And though Danarius was a vile master, he had encouraged and enjoyed his elven slave putting his human peers to shame. Humiliating pureblood mages; what a glorious, forbidden thing. Indeed, with abolition far, far away from ever being a matter of debate, to his compatriots, Danarius was as progressive a magister as Tevinter could welcome.

But it wasn't the fire of justice that fueled Danarius' enjoyment; rather, it was the notion that his peers were so blindly weak, so had Tevinters become, that they might as well bow to a beast, to an elf, to his pet. They were dog food.

"I find it quite fitting, my boy," he would say to him, smirking. "Quite fitting."

In his house, however, the leash was evermore real, binding and inescapable, and he could scarce resist mentally unless he pushed it all down and never gave it another thought. He had to, and it worked. At least, it worked until he reached Kirkwall. Such was the double-edged oppression of the captive mind.

Guarding master by day, and guarding yourself by night, he imagined Bucky say.

Maybe you should join the Guard, Ravena would say.

Fenris scoffed. The Guard. The famously all-human Guard stuck in an endless cycle of over- and underpolicing the Alienage.

Why do you think you must hold on to this part of you? Bucky would ask.

As if that were optional, and its abandonment beneficial. No, the 'bodyguard' persona was even more needed now. In Tevinter, he was an elf and a wildling. South of the border, he was an elf, a wildling, a scary Tevinter, an illegal immigrant, a social recluse, and last but not least, brown. And now he had to add… whatever his sexuality was. Yet another unending list. Double consciousness was a full-time job.

Now imagine this cornucopia of tired identities cry like a fucking baby. No, he could never.

Meanwhile, Hawke was a proud, goofy, affectionate queer woman and an unashamed crybaby. And yet she commanded every room she was in. It couldn't have just been her rather masculine attire and occupation. Maybe she was on to something he didn't understand.

"Venhedis," he said to the cake. He made her change the other day. He forced her hand to play a part she did not like because he was too 'cautious'. Meanwhile, she would have never insisted that he dress down in order to appear like the average Orlesian elf. Maybe he was a pig, after all.

Then a pair of blue trousers came between the cakes and he popped his head back up.

"Err, I don't speak Orlesian," he said.

The human man behind the counter snickered. "Zat's alright, monsieur. Val Chevin iz a big trade city."

"Wonderful," he said. He ordered his breakfast and something to bring her upstairs.

As he waited, he scanned the room and caught humans staring at him and averting their gaze. He felt tense and annoyed. But then the guy came back and gave him his stuff, and then went back to bring hers. "For your mistress," he said, handing him the package.

Slavery, servitude. That there was a difference was pure fiction. You still had a mistress.

"She's not my mistress," Fenris said in a low, threatening tone.

The man stuttered and stared awkwardly. "Er, yes, my apologies," he said, and pretended he had to go somewhere.

Someone behind him was laughing. Fenris turned around, annoyed, and saw an elven man with a low, black tail wiping a table.

"You scared Julien straight, may he choke on hiz name," he said.

"It's what I do," Fenris said.

"I'll take zose out for you in a second," he said.

"No, don't," Fenris said. "I'll be fine."

The elf smiled, looking down at the table. "You're kind, monsieur," he said. "But I'd rahzer serve you zan zose people," he said, giving a quick glance to the humans staring at Fenris earlier.

He scoffed through his nose and gave him a tip. "Thank you for your help," he said, winking, and took his stuff away.

He went on the inner terrace and sat down at their old table. The lush and colourful garden was shocking once again. He spent too much time in '20s Ferelden last night. He ate his cheese and pastries and drank his coffee in silence, too deep in thought to let the racist stares embitter him.

What was this feeling? This suspiciously pink and pleasant lightness and flow? Was he… happy? No, he shouldn't let himself feel too happy about being happy, even if it were true. He feared his excitement would soon disappoint him. After all, the night was about her, not him. He was merely an observer left inspired. Equally, his heart remained burdened. But she meant so much to him, perhaps it didn't matter who it had been about. It changed them both. And now he was preoccupied with a lot more possibilities.

He remembered the small boy in Seheron and the unsolved mystery of the birds and the rebels he saw in the Fade, and he was ineradicably curious. He remembered the glass city and the coffee-haired man in the mirror. There wasn't just so much more to Hawke, but so much more to him.

There was a whole person down there, a person he was dying to meet, to understand, perhaps even to be.

But he met Hawke last night, and he was happy, and that was enough for now. One more mystery solved. Not just her past, but why she hadn't been herself lately. She had become a bloody insecure mess, and that mirror wasn't big enough for the two of them.

He looked up at their window, and sipped his coffee. He thought she must feel very free now. He should brace himself for that.

Then someone came over at his table. Ah, the guy from before. He brought him another coffee.

"Why?" Fenris said.

"Had a talk wiz Julien and he felt bad," the man said.

"Ah, so he did choke. Good news for the both of us," Fenris said. The man snickered. "What's your name?"

"Hugo," he said.

He shouldn't use his real name. "Rhys," he said. "Thanks for the coffee, Hugo."

"No problem," Hugo said and made to leave. But something stopped him and he turned around, grabbing onto the top of the empty chair. "Is zat true? What you said earlier."

"Yes," Fenris said calmly, sipping his coffee.

"Hmm," Hugo said, nodding approvingly. "No mistress?"

"No mistress, and no master," Fenris said.

"Artist?" Hugo said.

Fenris thought of the satisfying stroke of a sword reaching the jugular. "Yes, I paint," he said, coffee under his nose.

"What a small world. I paint too," Hugo said with a smile. "What do you do? Cubism? Expressionism?"

Fenris thought of the many times he got yelled at for slashing people in stealth situations. "Most would call it vandalism," he said.

Hugo's face lit up knowingly. "Ah, you're here to see Les Catacombes De Fleurs before it closes down?"

How do bards do it? They made it look so easy.

"Uh, yes, we were looking for it yesterday, actually," Fenris lied, trying not to cough nervously.

"Iz alright. We get zis a lot," Hugo said. "Le Catacombes De Fleurs iz only open at night. I can show you ze way after work."

Interesting. Hawke would like a weird, mysterious venue. "I'd like that," he said.

Hugo winked and pointed at him, then prepared to go.

"Err, this isn't a date… right?" Fenris said awkwardly.

Hugo turned back with a tired, amused look. He threw the towel over his shoulder and said, "Why do you straight guyz always assume I'm flirting?"

"Actually, I'm not—". Fenris frowned awkwardly. No, better not to bear out his heart to this poor waiter. "It's just, err, I'm with someone, and historically my radar has been quite … catastrophic."

"How about, as a rule, you assume everything is a non-date unless told otherwise?" Hugo offered, crossing his arms.

"Fair enough," Fenris said defeatedly.

Hugo snickered. "Hey, I get it. My Édouard is like that. No game! Bless him."

"I wouldn't say no game," Fenris said, a little hurt.

"Sorry. Rhys—some game. Bless you less," Hugo said jokingly. "See you later for our non -date. Don't make your paramore mad!"

"Oh, she wouldn't be mad. She'd be on the floor."

Back in the room, Hawke's return to the waking world was being halted by a much needed conversation. Ravena had stepped in the way, much too upset to leave things unresolved. She was hurt by that random order to 'act demonic', the way they used to be. She said that it was insensitive of her, not to mention hypocritical. If Hawke didn't want to get pulled back into her trauma, Ravena didn't want to get pulled back into hers!

She was, of course, right. She hadn't thought about her, hadn't thought that it would even affect her. And it came as a big surprise that something would affect her, considering how bulldozingly difficult Ravena was to bond with anything and anyone. But she still evolved, still had feelings, in fact, probably felt too much.

"When I become more like a person… everything hurt more," Ravena said to her. "My wounds opened wider when I could see the disturbing injustice done to me. The very same injustice that, while blind and asleep, was taught to me to be a mundane necessity."

"So, you can't ascend," Hawke said grimly.

"No," Ravena said, sighing. "I mean, maybe… one day."

"Would you rather go back to sleep?" Hawke said.

"No," Ravena said. "No, this is better. It feels right, even though it's not easy. It's not the easier path. It's long and treacherous, and I need time."

"Take all the time you need, Ravena," Hawke said softly.

She opened her arms wide, waiting for permission to hug her.

Ravena rolled her eyes, refusing the hug. But she took Hawke's hand for a second, dangling them in the air. "About the boy…"

"What about him?"

"Be patient with him, too," Ravena said. "He's got a lot of feeling to do before he becomes whole."

"Are you implying he's just now becoming a person?" Hawke said, unsure if that was offensive.

"Re-becoming, if I am any judge," Ravena said.

Hawke held her hand tighter, inhaled deeply and nodded. "Should I be doing something to hel—?"

"Absolutely nothing," Ravena said.

Although Hawke was on the other side, she could sort of feel on the inside they were having a party. Good; they deserved it. Perhaps at night she could catch the last act.

"It's gonna be alriiiiiii-i-I-i-I-i-I-i-I-i-I-ight!" she sang in the shower. "We're gonna be alriiiiiii-i-I-i-I-i-I-i-I-i-I-ight!"

She was shoop-ing and loop-ing and dancing and forgetting why people took showers in the first place. It just couldn't be helped, because a massive load had come off her back. The longer she carried it, the heavier it got, and, boy, was it a miracle to feel this light for a while!

Now she could actually have a vacation!

When she came out of the bathroom drying her hair, Fenris was waiting on the couch with food and coffee.

"What's 'sweet' in Tevene?" she said.

"Dulcifer," he said. "Why?"

"No reason, Dulcifer," she said, taking the coffee away to the little balcony. Ah, what a beautiful day. Two birds were singing nearby, and there was a warm breeze. The last of them for the year.

"Amarus would be more fitting for me," she heard Fenris say in the doorway. He was wearing the turquoise shirt.

"Let me guess. Sour?" she said.

"Bitter," he said, coming next to her against the railing.

"What's 'bittersweet' then?" she said, drinking her coffee.

"Tevinters don't care for portmanteaus," he said.

"Too pedestrian for you lot, is it?" she said, finishing her coffee and smacking it down. "Bittersweetcheeks it is!"

Fenris shook his head. "I will not be a super-portmanteau."

"Oh, come on, who wouldn't read the tale of Sir Dulcifer Bittersweetcheeks?"

"Not even Varric could pull that off."

"I think you underestimate his thirst for incendiary humour."

"I think you shouldn't drink today if you're starting the morning at this level of ridiculous."

"I think you like it."

"I think…" Fenris stopped himself and chuckled. "I think it's comforting; that you're you again."

Hawke laughed and elbowed him. "Yeah, I'm back, motherfucker! Let's go to the zoo!"

Unbelievable, she was. Unbelievable and free. Did she teach a seminar in the evenings and could he get a ticket please?

"Sure, let's go to the zoo," he said, amused. He hung onto the railing, wind in his hair. "But first, I think we should go clothes shopping."

"We've done that. I'm not buying any more silly dresses. They'll just end up in my mother's closet and that thing's overflowing as it is."

Speaking of closets, he should probably ask her what on Maker's earth his sexuality was.

Just normal zoo conversation.

"No, it's…" he said, holding on the bars and letting himself fall back. "I've thought about it and I think I was a jerk to make you change yesterday."

Hawke's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I agree," she said sternly.

"So, it's settled then."

Noon, Édouard's Shop

So, there they were again, in that little perfumed boutique with the gloriously quiet salesman, browsing on opposite sides of the men's section.

"Found anything yet?" Fenris said. Not much spoke to him in his area. Everything looked too happy and frilly and not-black.

"Oh, Fenris, you know, I really rather detest being a woman," Hawke said, pushing clothes away in frustration.

"Why?" he said.

"There is a world of reasons why, but at this particular moment it must be the fact that all the sexy shirts are here, and not where I'm supposed to be!" she said passionately.

"I don't think you're supposed to be anywhere," he said calmly, browsing. "Least of all where you have no attraction."

Hawke sighed. "I know, I know." She violently grabbed a balloon sleeve shirt with red, blue and green vertical stripes and went to the salesman.

"Can you give this shirt some breasts, Édouard?" she said.

He looked at it and then at her, then back at it. "Why don't you try it on, my lady, and then we can assess," he said, unperturbed.

"Fine, fine," she said, and went into the changing room next to the counter. It was not going to fit. It just wasn't. She was fortunate to afford a tailor back in Kirkwall.

Then she heard Fenris say to Édouard beyond the curtain: "Can you give me some breasts to fit into this shirt?"

Hawke laughed and came out of the changing room. "You can have mine. They're not doing me any favours today." The buttons were holding on to dear life.

Édouard gave her a bigger size.

"Hey, I'm all for baggy, but I stop at tent," she said meanly.

"Not with these trousers," he said, putting on top a black high-waisted pair with suspenders.

She looked at Fenris, who was holding a white shirt with thin black stripes in the women's section. She raised a curious eyebrow.

"I'm waiting," he said nonchalantly, hand in his pocket.

She put the shirt on, put the trousers inside her chunky black boots, and it all came together quite well in the mirror. She came out proudly, hands on her hips. "Ok, fine, you were right," she said to Édouard.

"Naturally," he said. "Now you."

Fenris went into the changing room, and Édouard pushed on him a black coat and trousers.

"I can't believe we're doing this!" she said loudly, hands in her, oof, comfortably large pockets.

"Really?" she heard Fenris say behind the curtain. "I have no issue believing this."

"I have," she said confidently, looking at Édouard. "You know he used to be a right prude."

Fenris frowned, shaking his head. He popped open the curtain with the shirt unbuttoned.

"I am not a prude," he said, as two Orlesian women came into the shop. He blushed and pursed his lips. "Hi, how are you doing?" he said awkwardly, as Hawke rested against the counter, holding her belly from laughter.

Afternoon, Val Chevin Wildlife Park

Now clad to take on the whole town, Hawke and Fenris walked around the artificial ecosystems of exotic animals. Hawke's mouth was gaping wider and wider with each passing creature, all of which consecutively became her spirit animal. Most probably they were among the first inside the zoo to catch people's attention. Fenris was just looking for the bird sanctuary, but it was nowhere to be found.

"Oh, Maker, what do they do if they get a hangover?" Hawke asked, bewitched by the giraffes' necks.

"That's… not really part of a giraffe's worries," Fenris said.

And then, suddenly, after a good while of plaque reading, it hit them.

"Most of these are from Seheron," Fenris said.

"Ohhhh," Hawke said childishly, wiping her forehead in relief. "So that's why there were strange mythical creatures in the Fa—Family portrait last night!"

Fenris shook his head in outrage. "They're not mythical creatures; they're just animals! Wait, if you didn't know what they were, then how did you uhm… paint them?"

Hawke looked at him. "No, no. That was you."

"Me? I painted no such thing!" Fenris said.

"Your mind did," Hawke whispered. "It was probably bleeding into mine. Have you seen anything else out of the ordinary?"

Fenris hesitated, aware of the people around. "Let's discuss this at a later time."

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "What would you like to discuss?" she said, skipping around.

This could be the time? There was never going to be a good time, after all. But first, iced cream.

"I think I might not be straight," Fenris said in the lemur sanctuary. Hawke's iced cream hit her cheek.

"Okay, how is this a safer conversation?" she said, wiping her face with her new shirt, then realising and feeling bad about it.

"Please, we're in Orlais," he said, hand in pocket and eating his iced cream. "I don't give a shit."

"Okay, point," she said, thinking. "What made you think you're not?"

"Your… friend, Ravena," he said.

"Oh, no, did she shapeshift into a ridiculously beautiful bloke again?" she said, amused.

"No, she just… saw through me, allegedly," he said, "and avowed that I had never figured out my… proclivities. And that I should ask you."

"You into dudes?" she said nonchalantly, licking her iced cream.

"I… I don't know," he said uncomfortably.

"But you're into me, right?" she said, showing herself cockily.

"Turbulently," he said, smirking.

"Why turbulently? Is it that I don't have the right bits?" she said, waving along her height.

"No, turbulently because," he said and wiped the last of the iced cream off her face, "of things like that."

Hawke sneered at him and they kept on walking.

"Alright, is that dude hot?" she said, pointing at a random Orlesian.

"No," he said.

"Is that girl hot?" she asked, pointing at his companion.

"No," he said.

"What about that guy?"

"No."

"What about that lady wearing trousers?"

Fenris sighed. "No."

"Really? Jeez, if you weren't here, I'd be getting rejected as we speak."

"How did you know, then?"

Hawke shrugged. "Girls were so pretty I wanted to cry and… some boys, occasionally," she said, winking.

"But Ravena said that's just aesthetic, not sexual," he said.

"Well, I guess, for me, aesthetics drive into sexual," she said, then squinted at him. "Isn't it like that for you?"

Fenris looked tired. "No," he said.

They sat down under a pale blue umbrella near a café on wheels.

"Well, something drove into it, otherwise what the hell have we been doing?" she said, amused.

"Well…" he said, looking up and thinking.

"Can't have been the magic thing," she said.

Fenris frowned dismissively. "How is that a thing?"

"I don't know," she said, shrugging and playing with her straw. "Anders was basically all over me when he found out."

"Well, that's… informative," he said, grimacing. And unsurprising. But he felt petty and he asked: "And you rejected him?"

Hawke's gaze came up from her drink. "No, we're married now," she said sarcastically.

"Is it really such a strange assumption? Based on your stories last night, I'd think it would be logical to fancy someone who might understand you."

"Okay, first of all," she said, raising an annoyed finger, "he would not understand me. I am like a captain that can't resign from a ship of reforming criminals, while he is like the enthusiastic half of an enmeshed co-dependent relationship with, uhm… a religious cultist." Second of all, the human half reminded her of her dad, and contrary to popular fiction, that was weird and gross.

"Hmph. Sounds like Isabela would understand you," he said.

In a mix of amusement and outrage, Hawke closed her eyes and inhaled. "Why are you throwing random people at me to date?"

Fenris raised his eyebrows introspectively. "You're right. We were talking about me. I'm much more interesting."

"There you go," she said, smirking.

He sighed and grabbed his cup. "I believe the driving factor for me was that we could talk about anything… and… we did. And we are."

She squinted, thinking.

He cleared his throat and brought the cup to his mouth. "Then I started noticing how you look."

"Are you sure that's not just because I'm uh…" she said, eyeing some people of colour, "not your type?"

Fenris looked where she was looking, then rolled his eyes. "You used to look strange to me once, but I don't think that's it."

"And there's been no one else?" she said.

"If there was someone before, I have no memory of it," he said bitterly, transfixed on his drink.

"Not even after?" she asked.

He went on stirring his drink and shrugged, wind in his hair. "I stayed nowhere for long. Who would I trust?" he said.

Silence fell upon them, as golden leaves swayed in the wind and families went by with children louder than the very animals.

Then Fenris abandoned his forlorn and pensive looks and reached for her hand. "I never thought I needed anyone, or wanted anyone… until now."

To think, this hand was thoroughly gauntleted for years and now there was nothing keeping that warm, electric touch away. Hawke smiled with big wrinkles under her eyes and started moving her chair towards him in a childish struggle. Then she took his face and planted her lips onto his. He held onto her wrist and forgot where they were.

"You're a demi," she said, ending the kiss.

"Pardon?" he said. He felt like she cut herself off midsentence.

"Demisexual," she said, reaching for her drink left across the table. "It's this thing where you feel kind of… little attraction to people unless there's a connection on a deeper level."

"That… actually makes sense," he said, thinking. It was her stubborn spirit and her keen mind that stirred his interest. The view was a well and welcome bonus. "But can't one be 'demi' and straight?"

"One can," she said, shrugging. "One should probably explore to make sure."

Fenris frowned. "One is not so keen on sharing."

"One needn't worry. One is happy with a non-coital experiment if one wishes to solve the mystery. Especially if one's here, far away from home."

He still looked uncomfortable. "One is generous, but one still feels like it would be wrong."

"As one wishes," Hawke said, shrugging. "By the way, I definitely noticed your looks first."

He brushed down across his neck and smirked. "Did you?"

She nodded, remembering. "There were days it took all my strength not to bite into your arse like a rabid dog."

Fenris guffawed and looked around. "There are children here, Hawke."

She put a hand over her mouth and laughed through her nose. "My bad."

"You'll have to be more careful with this free speech when you get Devon back," he said.

When, not if. That was a comforting line on his part.

"I'll be fine," she said.

"Such confidence from the woman whose child had their first word be a profanity," he said, raising an amused eyebrow.

"True. Are you sure she's not your child?" she said in amusement.

He chuckled. What a notion. Although completely self-doubting in his abilities as a father—if he had any— he felt nothing would make him happier than having a family. But that was not going to be in today's confessions.

"Do you have people looking for her?" he asked, unsure if the subject would upset her.

Hawke inhaled and nodded. "Now that I've got the money, yeah. I've got agents all over the South, in places where I've not already looked."

"Of course," he said, putting things together. "It wasn't just your brother you were looking for when you left after the expedition." Maybe Antiva was sort of the same.

"At least I found him," she said, looking sad. "But I'm no hunter. Varric's much better at this than me."

"I thought you said you didn't tell him," he said, confused.

"I didn't. I…" she said, "I'm still unsure if I made the right decision, but I thought he would focus better on the task without knowing his true employer."

"Taken that one from me, I see."

"Ah, balls. Then I've definitely made the wrong decision."

He smirked.

"What about Aveline? I can't imagine she doesn't know."

"Oh, Maker, I forgot about her," she said, sighing. "I haven't spoken to her in a while."

"Why?"

"I don't know. She's too busy. Distracted, even."

"Sounds like she's avoiding you."

"Can't imagine why," she said sarcastically. "Not like I re-traumatised her or anything. Anyway, yes, she knows."

"Good," Fenris said. "You shouldn't be alone in this."

"I know. I was just very reluctant to advertise such a sensitive issue that, let's be honest, could very easily be used against me."

"True enough," he said. But she looked haunted. "What's that face for?"

Hawke sighed and lowered her voice. "The clock is ticking, Fenris."

"On what?" he asked, worried.

"She is almost seven," she murmured. "I've only got a couple of years left to find her before, you know, before it may become impossible."

"The irony if she were sent to Kirkwall," he said absent-mindedly.

"Are you mad?" she said, raising her tone. She contained her nerves and lowered her voice. "Never so much as fathom that notion ever again."

He thought of men like Karras. He wouldn't want that sort of person around his child, mage or no mage. But then he thought of Thrask, whom he initially thought a soft fool that deserved everything that happened to him. But was he not just a parent trying to protect his child, not dissimilar to Hawke? If even a Templar would keep their child from Kirkwall's Circle, was it perhaps founded? Unfortunately for Thrask, however, there was no one to educate Olivia in controlling her powers. That was the difference that gave him pause.

Either way, he caught himself in this strange exercise of empathy, and wondered where it came from and why it extended to people that he had nothing to do with. He needed to think about this later, but the answer was probably right in front of him.

"I apologise," he said.

"Just get it out of your system, Fenris, because we're not going to have this debate again."

"Very well," he said reluctantly. "Say, she is sent to a better uh… boarding school. Like the ones here. Would that be so bad?"

Hawke held her chin sarcastically. "Gee, would it be so bad to be forever separated from your kid? Gosh, I don't know. Try asking your own mother."

His heart ached at her words. This was a debate he would never win.

"I know how you feel about this stuff, and to be honest, I agree with you that 'boarding schools' are necessary. Education is the only way. But the 'education system' at present is not safe for divergent students. People like me, like Anders, like Feynriel; we don't fit in their world."

"What's was so divergent about Anders?" Fenris protested. "I mean, prior to his co-dependent relationship? That he had a 'conduct problem'?"

"Uhmmmm, because he's queer?" Hawke said defensively. "Andrastians may say it's 'okay, but keep it to yourself', but it's really not like that once you're out of the big cities. That tends to increase the likelihood of 'conduct problems'. Which is baffling to me. If the whole point is to limit 'student' population, I'd have thought the 'school system' would encourage same-sex relationships."

"Wait, what?" he said, baffled. So, his radar wasn't all that catastrophic.

Hawke sighed and covered her forehead. "I shouldn't have told you. That's wasn't okay. Just, please forget I said that."

"Is anyone in our group straight?" he said, amused.

"Aveline is. Varric is. My brother is. You used to be, but now there's a question mark. No idea about Merrill or Sebastian. And as far as you're concerned, Anders is, got it?" she said threateningly.

"Anders' deal is not nearly the most scandalous or interesting secret I've kept all these years," he said with half-lidded eyes. "I'll do you one better, even. I will continue to pretend he has no deal and that he doesn't exist."

"Perfect," she said. "I think…"

"What about your father?" he said.

"My dad? Pretty sure he was straight."

"No," he said, shaking his head in annoyance. "How did he not fit in?"

"Oh," she said, rolling her eyes. "My dad was a poor orphan from Ferelden. His mother, my namesake, died of cholera when he was six and his father never wanted anything to do with them. He had no name of import, no sponsorship and no one coming to visit. Consequently, he had to jump through hoops to earn any small freedom, while his noble counterparts were simply invited into positions and parties. His friends got letters, gifts and family visits, while he stayed in his room alone and depressed. Then he fell in love and… yeah, I think the bottom line was me; that he was going to have a family, and that's all he'd ever wanted, and there was no way in hell he'd abandon it."

Fenris failed to stay impartial during this. He understood that more than she knew, and he hated that.

"What about Esme?" he said. "She seemed to have a lot of connections still. Was she not a noble?"

"Oh, Esme was noble-born, alright," she said, hate creeping into her face. "She was Ferelden's best and brightest, on the track for First Enchantership. But even that doesn't always protect you when you choose to mix with commoners, especially if they're Chasind. Aldrich delivered the harvest. Fereldens have a deep mistrust of the Chasind and the Chantry profited from cheaper produce. Then she came down with a Chasind baby. Well, two Chasind babies. They would have been transferred and classed as orphans, and her family were vehemently opposed to sponsoring half-Chasind offspring. She would not have been able to be First Enchanter, but she could have been a Senior Enchanter. In the end, I think it was, again, family that made her run."

"So, the school valedictorian was the one to snap?" he said incredulously. That didn't help his arguments at all.

"Everyone can snap," she said, shaking her head absent-mindedly. Her cheek spasmed ever so slightly and her eyes were glassy. "But no one saw that coming."

Not Hawke, most importantly. The guilt in her eyes was insurmountable.

"I don't think you should feel guilty for it. Any of it," Fenris said flatly. "She was weak, and you were not."

"Oh, I was weak," she said with contained anger, her eyes watering. "I could have seen her to justice, I could have just waited at the door, I could've—"

"If Holly were my daughter, if any of those children were mine, I would have done way worse than just breaking her legs in that Chantry," Fenris said sternly.

Hawke looked at him, sobbing and lost for words.

"There is no question," he said.

"And you would have been lynched next to the Qunari," she said.

He felt a weird sense of deja-vu, but he ignored it. "Wasn't that Qunari the Sten that helped save Ferelden?"

"Or you would have helped save Ferelden," she said, smirking. "Wouldn't that have been nice? In that case, Andrei would have been back at my door immediately smelling money."

"I take it it wasn't the Hero of Ferelden that freed you," he said.

"Hah, no. Never met her. I was so close!" she said with a bit of jealousy. "But I knew Leliana. She was friends with Bethany. She came one night and said it was 'time to wash the runes'. Let me bolt. Bless her."

"The cloistered sister freed you?" he said incredulously.

"Yeah. If there were more people like her in the 'education system', it'd be a very different story. Alas, even at the best boarding school, a kid like Devon would probably be made a mindless… chalk monitor."

A tranquil? "Because of your… thing?"

"No, no. Whatever my… aberration is, these things tend to skip many generations. I would have been chalk-monitored for that. But in her case, I'm saying that on the basis of her condition."

"What even is her condition? Do you know?"

"I'm sure some fancy eugenicist someday will come up with a name for it."

"But she's studious, isn't she?"

"Oh, grow up, Fenris," she said a little too loud. "They don't let kids graduate because they're studious. They let them graduate if they look confident and in control and conform to social convention. Meanwhile my kid is studious and has the vague sense of a chalk monitor personality. Boarding schools make most of their money off of chalk monitors. Put two and two together. I'll wait," she said, crossing her arms.

He sighed, defeated. "You know, if you ever need an extra agent, I'd be more than happy to help."

"Fenris, I need you too," she said, taking his hand. "I need you here, with me."

A corner of his mouth smiled as he looked at her. But then his face changed as his eye caught a poster with birds of paradise on it. He got up and went to it, thinking this would lead him to the bird sanctuary. But it was an advertisement for an opening act of dancing birds of paradise at the local opera house. And the last act was today.

"What's that?" Hawke said behind him.

"We are going on a date," Fenris said flatly.

"Err, I think our date started two and a half days ago," she said.

"Well, then, be prepared for the most incredible second date of your life," he said confidently, writing the details on his hand.