Evening, Les Catacombes De Fleurs

He followed her for a minute, in that otherworldly museum of light. The flower monstrosities kept breathing their magical particles into the stone. Staring at him. In the distance, he could see there were other sections—gracefully moving animals made of purple flowers. Rams, maybe?

An ominous, foreboding feeling came over him.

"Hawke, wait," Fenris said. He was trying to conceal his fear, but the slight shame hiding under his eyelids gave him away.

She turned around, and, catching his look, became concerned. "Are you okay?" she said, touching his shoulder.

He looked away. But he liked that. It filled him with another feeling. Something softer, but not fragile. It could give the foreboding feeling a run for its money. What was it?

"Are you remembering something?" she said, a worry in her voice.

"N-no," he said. What could he possibly remember being triggered by this? This place looked like nothing of the past. It didn't look like anyone's past. It looked like the future. A future he was scared of.

Deep in his mind's eye, in half-light terror, an image was forming. A counter-revolution in the South. The Return of Tevinter. Behind a youthful, artsy front of compassion for the many, the few sharpening their ancient teeth. Her egalitarianism a chess piece trapped in the games of ambitious Senior Enchanters, underground supremacists, and radical Tevinter students with no love for their country seeking to build new markets in 'barbarian' lands. Something that to her would probably feel like relief and acceptance, and to him would feel like the New North. But he wouldn't say it, not yet. Not before giving this place a chance. He didn't want to make her feel alienated. He didn't want to sound insane. But how could he not be fearful, when he had seen what's on the other side?

"It's just… a bit too much. All at once," he said, resorting to a half-truth.

She didn't react right away. Seemed surprised to hear that from him. But something in her eyes changed, and her tone softened. "We're all brazen bohemians here," she said, shrugging, "but nobody expected magical art. Freaky, right?"

"It's… something," he said, his walls up.

"Why don't we get a drink?" she said, the hand on his shoulder pushing him towards the bar.

"No. The guys are there. They'll know something's off."

"Oh, pssssht. Like you're the first person to be unseated by this. Just relax and I'll do the talking."

Curious. He felt like a clumsy child dropping something important—his vulnerability—and she caught it and held it in her hand, despite herself. And…

It felt safe there.

No doubt there was a tiredness in her for people being unsettled by—for lack of a better word—harmless magic. Her reaction seemed age-old, as if she had accepted it long ago it was up to her to console people on the subject. But not him. No. He was the gritty cynical who survived maleficarum experiments, powerful mages and scary abominations. He could talk her ear off about the most fucked up things, and she was ready to share. It made him feel—again, for lack of a better word—masculine.

But he was no Fade expert. Since the two recent journeys there, he was feeling quite unseated. Maybe she understood that. A notion that filled him with both gratitude and stress.

"Or, you know, we could just leave. I wanna enjoy this with you, not in spite of you," she said.

He broke off his train of thought and looked at her. Her eyes were on the exhibits, a sliver of longing, saying 'But this is so good to pass.'

"A drink should suffice," he said, and sat down on one of the stools. It was just underground art. He'd seen a millennium-old witch turn into a dragon in front of his very own eyes and he didn't even flinch. But…

But what? Something in him protested.

A sad softness came over him.

But it was easier back then, to hide his feelings. They weren't hers to see.

It was different now. They mattered. He couldn't just close his heart and toss them in the darkness, fragile and unexplored. Or perhaps he could. He just didn't want to.

"After all," he eventually went on, "you went through three hours of the most problematic of the fine arts without so much as a drop."

"You're… not wrong. Let's remedy that," she said, and ordered for them, then sat down.

"Back so soon?" Hugo said in amusement. He didn't seem surprised.

"It was my first time at the opera!" Hawke said dramatically. "I watched a human woman with fake leaf ears getting slapped and tossed around between her father and her lover for hours!"

"Zis is much better than silly opera, and zere are no elf-faced women being abused here," Hugo said with a strange pride. He was really attached to this place.

"And also, they have this," she said, and drank half of her cocktail. "I figure you need a good buzz to really take in all these colours."

There were colours everywhere you looked, in the dark, dancing their dance.

"Oh, iz even better if you're high," Hugo said, and gave Édouard an amused look. "Remember when you thought zat rainbow whale spoke to you?"

Édouard looked stoically at Hawke and Fenris. "It waz a transforming experience."

"There's a rainbow whale?" she said excitedly. "No wait, there's a rainbow whale?!"

"Zere is! And zere's more, but we can't be spoiling it for you! You need to go see for yourselves!" Hugo said. His empathy was sincere. He would have hated his first time being spoiled. "As for me and Édouard, we've been here almost every night for ze past few weeks."

"That's… a lot," she said, drinking.

"We want to bask in it as much as we can before it is torn down forever," Hugo explained.

"Ze Chantry's orders," Édouard said.

"I could see that," Fenris said. "No doubt it would be a blow to their authority if this becomes widely known."

"So, the Chantry… what? Lets people see it anyway?" Hawke asked suspiciously.

"Where do you think your entry payment goes to?" Hugo said. "Zey're capitalizing on it. If we don't have enough golden statues of our saviour shining bright in the sky, zen how will ze Maker see us?" he said sarcastically.

Fenris nodded. "Letting the wealthier pockets with an eye for art open wide against the deadline."

"Forgive me for asking, but if you disapprove of the Chantry, then why come here and pay them every night?" Hawke said.

"I'm not paying for anything," Hugo said, leaning back dismissively.

She looked at Édouard involuntarily.

"No, he's not paying for me, if that's what you're thinking," Hugo said, squinting meanly. "I have an artist pass from ze Val Chevin city authority. I go for free."

Her brows furrowed as if he'd said he grew a tail out of diamonds. "Since when do cities subsidise starving artists?"

"Last year, it was. Zey offered free entry into any museum or gallery if you were willing to work for free to beautify ze city," Hugo said. "It's expired now, but no one reads ze whole thing when zey can look at zis face instead," he said with a grin, hand under his chin as if it were a display.

"As for me," Édouard said, clearing his throat, "I do not disapprove of ze Chantry as much as my boyfriend does, although I perfectly understand where he's coming from."

Boyfriend. This was not just an artistic oasis for them, but a safe place to be themselves.

"I was raised by Chantry Sisters, after I lost my parents," he went on, shifting in his seat. He really felt like he needed to explain himself. "A Sister taught me how to sew. Fought to get me an apprenticeship with a tailor. Zen she gave me a small stipend when I came of age to one day open my own shop. It wasn't much, but it was ze thought zat helped me believe in myself."

"And now you're living your dream," Hawke said, nodding to herself. "Well, damn. A toast to you, my man," she said, urging the others with her glass to join in. "I mean, a finer shirt I've never worn in my life," she said, presenting the sleeves.

Édouard quickly overextended himself to rub the ice cream stain off her right cuff. He really cared about his work.

"How do you…" Fenris finally joined in, his eyes narrowing awkwardly as he gestured, "reconcile… this conflict in beliefs?"

The masked men shared amused glances. "Zere are and zere always will be more important things to fight about in a long-term relationship," Hugo said.

"You shall see," Édouard said, looking down.

Hawke's inner brows sloped upwards. She elbowed Fenris in amusement. "Hear that? It's not politics that will do us in."

"Love can do you in much worse than that, my friends," Hugo said, quite nonchalantly. As if he'd been through it all. But that word felt closer and more meaningful to him than anything, as hurtful as it was.

There came an uncomfortable silence, which Hawke broke. "So, who's the artist? Or artists?"

"Nobody knows," Hugo said. "Nobody even remembered zis place existed. It leads to an old thaig, but ze only way in is blocked by a huge collapse. Rumour has it ze Chantry is negotiating a deal with ze dwarves for it."

"So, how did people find out about it?" she went on.

"Ze Order of the Blushing Lizard," Édouard said.

"Ze what? I mean, the… what now?" Hawke said.

"Don't you hear ze music?" Hugo said.

There was music. Weird music. Coming from somewhere deeper within.

"Zey're not the artists, just a band. Zey started performing here about a month ago," Hugo went on. "It became quickly packed with ze homosexual underground."

"Ze homosexual underground?" Édouard said tiredly. "Really, Hugo?"

"Well, what do you want me to call it?" Hugo said irately.

"The… queer scene?" Hawke offered.

"Better, I suppose," Édouard said.

"Tomato, potato," Hugo said, brushing it off.

Hawke laughed. "You mean tomato, to-mah-tow?"

"I say what I say," Hugo said confidently. "Rhys, you are very quiet."

Fenris broke off his brooding, taking his hand away from his cheek. "I'm… still processing the whole… blushing lizard thing."

"You'll be here all day, zen," Édouard said. "Go now, kids. Shoo. Explore."

The deeper they got in the place, the more brilliant and otherworldly it became. The flower clusters changed colours every minute or so, from dominant red, to pink, to blue, purple and yellow. It was all very… romantic. He enjoyed holding her hand, and the thought that nobody would have cared if he kissed her here.

Then they came upon the purple flower rams, the life-sized rainbow whale swimming and doing pirouettes under their feet, the little fluorescent frogs jumping about and the very nice crackle of galah cockatoos taking flight.

Then they came upon a surprise. A wall of blue and pink butterflies that was… interactable. Fenris discovered it as he touched the wall and they started flying away from him.

"Holy shit," Hawke said, dumb-founded. "That is genius."

Fenris spent a good amount of time trying to find the right motion to make one interact with him amicably, and he found himself grinning widely when a little butterfly took a seat atop his index finger.

"No… this is genius," he said proudly.

Meanwhile, Hawke kept bulldozing into the wall like a child to get the butterflies to disperse in a corona.

He could only recall a few times in which they had laughed for so long.

Then there were the fireflies; luminous and indistinguishable apart from the bright traces they left behind, darting aimlessly through every other art piece.

There were stone columns on which blue, green and purple rain poured, walls of the night sky with esoteric comets darting all over the map of space, and a glorious wall of a gleaming waterfall gently caressing down a few boulders on the ground. This is where they stopped, admiring the flower clusters floating around the water and those occult firefly tails invading the scenery.

There was also that music and singing coming from deeper within, and it was getting much louder now. It sounded somewhat like classical instruments, but they followed no conventions of classical music, and the singing was… raw, full of emotion, and a lot of attitude.

Hawke was essentially glued to it all. Fenris had never seen her be silent for so long.

But her silence wasn't entirely discomforting. It let him take it all in. In fact, that may have been for the best, because the experience was extremely inviting and overwhelming in its pull. Like with an intense vibrato, he found it hard to stay inside his own body. The more he saw, the more he felt connected to everyone and everything inside, as if his soul was tethered to a shared consciousness. It was a bit scary at first, but for the most part it was pleasant and almost healing. There was beauty in these walls, as well as spirit and hope. It crawled inside him, sung to him, and illuminated abandoned mines of emotion he had always had trouble entering.

Still, a part of him violently clung to reality, wielding its ungodly dissection knife. There were lyrium veins on the walls. They may not have been the source of the magic, but they had to be its sustenance. The question was who made them and how did they do it. Magic was used in art in the Imperium, but the best he'd seen were enchanted paintings whose elements could move in a short and restricted loop. A boring concept that couldn't hold a candle to this theatre of light.

"So…" Fenris said, trying to hold that one foot into the physical present. "Any theories?"

"Fuck if I know," Hawke said defeatedly. "I've never heard of anything like light manipulation. There are no fires around. Not a single torch. If all this magic suddenly died, we'd be in real trouble."

"Somehow, I doubt that, given its author. I would not be surprised if this place is crawling with apostates."

"In a venue appropriated by the Chantry? I hardly think so."

"That fails to cheer me up. This place could be raided by Templars any minute."

"And what are they gonna do? Try to smell the Fade on me?"

"Oh, I know you. You'd be going in to defend some kid being roughed up, then some idiot would summon demons, it will go way out of hand, and then you'll have to use magic."

"You're overthinking."

"Am I?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Actually, you're right. I am overthinking. I am overthinking how I'm going to break it to people if I come home without you."

"Oh, I know you. You'd be making your own masterpieces around here."

He sighed heavily and shook his head. "Festis bei umo canavarum."

Hawke snickered. "You keep saying that, but it won't make me suddenly understand what it means."

His eyes darkened and became mean under his furrowed brow. "It means—you will be the death of me."

Her eyebrows came together and upward in amusement. "That's hot," she said. "But you really need to relax."

He sighed again, and looked at the traces of fireflies.

"This is so unlike you, Fenris," she said, her eyes narrowing. "You're usually so composed and ready for anything."

And what was he supposed to say? That it was getting harder and harder to keep a cool head when it was her at risk? It was just him and her here, far away from their fighting posse. He didn't want to sound like he was her father. And he didn't want to sound like he wouldn't be able to protect her.

And there it was, the bodyguard persona, only mindfucked and malfunctioning.

"I'm…" he said, putting a hand over the back of his neck, "I don't know. You'll just have to take me as I am."

Hawke smiled warmly. "I can do that." She took his hand. "Come on. Let's check out the band."

"Another pay wall?" she said sourly to the bouncer.

The man shrugged. "The first drink is free."

That thought pulled her eyebrows up in a reverie. "Ugh, fine," she said.

"Sign here that you understand we're not responsible if you die of alcohol poisoning or as a result of instigating a brawl, and here that you understand a quarter of your contribution goes to the Seheron War Relief and Surgeons Without Borders."

"The what?" Fenris said incredulously.

The guy shook his head. "I don't know. Some charity crap."

"Very cool," Hawke said, taking the tickets.

"One more thing," the bouncer said, rubbing the back of his head. "There's a guy here that keeps telling everyone he's gonna kill himself. Just ignore him. It's a… coping mechanism," he said, sighing. He looked very tired.

"Is that why the first drink is free?" she said.

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that," he said, crossing his arms. But yes.

There were a lot of people inside. Dancing, jumping, chatting. Gleaming with happiness, and definitely past the free drink. On stage was a band of humans. On every other side there were those everchanging flower clusters, which served as pretty fantastic lighting for an underground concert.

"Oh, yeah," Hawke said, grinning widely. "I'm gonna see you dance tonight."

"No," Fenris said flatly.

She didn't look phased at all. She had that evil puppet-master look on. "I'll get the drinks. Find us somewhere to sit."

"'Kay," he said, narrowing his eyes.

He looked and looked, and successfully dodged a few drunk people slashing the air around with lack of awareness. It was nice when skills were transferable.

Finally, he saw two empty chairs in a corner, but as he got closer, the table was occupied. There was a Qunari with long grey dreads; actually, probably a Vashoth, at the very edge. A woman. She had a tattoo sleeve, a beige tank top, baggy dark trousers and chunky boots.

He found himself staring at her for completely no reason.

"Can I help you?" she said crossly. The offer was overtly insincere.

"Sorry, it's just… there are not many Vashoth women, well… anywhere." He immediately regretted saying that. It sounded so unnecessarily mean.

"I know," she said sharply.

He felt incredibly weird. Was there something in that booze? Ironically, he just couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity with this Vashoth woman. He was blanking completely, and yet, there was the feeling.

"Do we know each other?" he said flatly. Perhaps she was a hireling once, or she had bartended somewhere in the Free Marches.

She gave him a look. "Not interested," she said aggressively.

"She's not interested, bruh," an elven man said with his hands around his mouth as if he was shouting.

Venhedis. What was he even doing? He looked around for a direction to run in. Then his blood froze as he looked behind him. Hawke was holding two cocktails and a lot of judgement.

O… kay. He could fix this. "I'm not interested either. I just thought I knew you from somewhere," Fenris said.

"I don't acquaint myself with Vints," she said curtly.

… Fair point. "I'm not a Vint by birth. I'm Seheroni. You have nothing to fear."

The people at the table suddenly changed their attitude.

"Wanna have a seat?" the elven man said. He had fairly short brown hair and pretty much everything about him was brown except his skin. He had a long leather coat that looked ancient and unwashed, and a navy revealing tunic that reminded him of Varric. He had a huge tattoo coming up from his chest of two wings. He had one ear pierced with two earrings. And he had very nice eyebrows.

"Sure, we've got nowhere else to squeeze in, anyway," Hawke said.

The elven man gestured to the seats next to him.

"Sit over there," the Vashoth woman said coldly to Fenris. So, he sat next to the man and Hawke sat next to her. There were two seats between the elf and the Vashoth. One was empty, and the other occupied by another elven woman; blonde, short hair, a pale blue dress. She seemed far away.

Then humans on stage came off and were replaced by two Vashoth and a brown human man. One Vashoth had a long guitar with a small round body, the other sang and shook a wooden object that made nice rhythmic sounds, and the human had a set of drums. Fenris remembered these instruments from his time with the Fog Warriors, but not the names. This band was definitely from Seheron. Such a long way from home. His heart ached.

"Which ones are the Blushing Lizards?" Hawke asked the table. "I'm Harding by the way."

"Neha," the Vashoth woman said. "And neither."

"You see, the Order of the Blushing Lizard is featuring bands by queer and ethnic minorities. This band is called Rehna and they hail from Seheron. I think it means 'queen' or something, which I found super funny because those guys are chronically heterosexual," the elven man said, rolling his eyes. "The band before that was The Backalley Boys, from Tantervale. I don't think I need to explain that one," he said. Then he put a nice smile on. "So, yeah. I'm Merlin. How do you do?"

"That's awesome," Hawke said enthusiastically. "I've never heard Seheroni music before. It sounds quite profound. What do you think?" she said to Fenris. "By the way, my quiet friend here is Rhys."

"That's fine," Merlin said, amused. "My even quieter friend here is Poppy."

"Hi Poppy," Hawke said, waving amicably.

"Hi Poppy," Fenris said, and shifted in his seat. "I think it's very nice, the music," he said to Hawke.

However, like many other things, it didn't sound like home. It was a pain he had to contend with when he went to Seheron as an adult. It didn't awaken things in him, as much he had hoped it would. This was hard for him, but he made some peace with it over the years.

He quieted down the unpeaceful remnants with a big gulp of alcohol. Then he grimaced. "What in the Void did you buy me?"

"No idea. I think it was called a… Rapple," she said. "I'd hoped it had apple in it. You like your apples, right?"

"I do, but what's this… coconut-y flavour?" he said.

"That's coconut rum," Merlin offered helpfully, smoking something that had a strong grassy smell.

"You want to try mine instead?" Hawke said, pushing her glass over to him. "It's called Sex on the Beach."

Fenris raised an eyebrow, his elbow digging into his knee. "You like your sex on the beach, then?"

"Why? You wanna try that too?" she said flirtatiously.

He gave her a lemon and honey grin, then he drank from her cocktail. "Not on a beach," he said.

"Aww, are we on a date?" Merlin butted in sardonically.

"A long, long date," Hawke said, amused.

"Long, you say? Well, if it's not going too well, I'd like to try my charm on your…" he said, raising an eyebrow at him, "quiet friend."

Fenris cleared his throat and looked in every other possible direction.

Hawke seemed to laugh amicably, but then her eyes darkened. "Back off," she said.

Merlin shrugged and showed his palms in peace.

"Maker, Merlin, why do you have to be such a slut?" Neha said tiredly, hand over her forehead.

"Don't shame me, Neha. I know a lot of fucked up shit about you, too," Merlin said, exhaling smoke.

She sighed and shook her head.

"Besides, it's all good. I'm no good for anyone," he said, leaning back in his chair and drinking. "I'm gonna put an arrow in my head soon anyway. The great Gloaming comes for everyone!"

"Ohhh," Hawke said, unsure how to react. "The bouncer mentioned a suicidal guy. Didn't think I'd end up at his very own table."

Neha's hands were now covering her whole face in exasperation. "Gaston is warning people about you now, Merlin."

"He should. He should warn people," Merlin said, coming forward in his seat. "Tell them the great mortal experiment has failed and they should find any sliver of happiness as soon as they can before the dust comes for us all."

Neha stood up over the table and took his drink away. "You're done," she said.

Then a human woman with dark hair and red and white highlights came by. She had one, two, five piercings on her face. "We're on in five," she said.

Neha helped Merlin stand up and Poppy came out too.

"Wait, you're playing? What are you called then?" Hawke said. Then she looked at the human woman and frowned. She frowned too.

Merlin turned around and dramatically bowed. "The Order of the Blushing Lizard, at your service."

Then they left.

"Fucking hell. What were the odds?" she said.

"You always attract weird people," he said with an all-knowing, tired smile.

"Count yourself lucky, Bird Boy," she said, amused. Then she leaned in kind of innocently. "And hey, I'm not saying anything… But if I were to say something, I'd say you got a good shot with Merlin if you wanna… investigate."

"I'm not attracted to him," he said flatly.

"You don't know him well. That makes sense," she said, shrugging. "But you could get to know him, when they come back. See if that sparks anything in you. I mean, hell," she said, playing with her straw, "if a severely depressed guy isn't your type, then you're probably straight, right?"

Fenris couldn't begin to express the mindfuck he was feeling at that sentence. "What is that even supposed to mean?"

"Well—" she said, puffing as if it was obvious. "You know…"

"Do I?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"'Cause you're… you know…" she said. He wasn't getting it. "I mean, I thought you knew."

"Do I?" he insisted.

She put her drink down and seemed to think how to word it nicely. But she quickly abandoned the attempt. "Depressed, man," she said, looking at him. "You're depressed."

"I am n—" he said sharply, a frown forming. But he found he could not finish the sentence. The reality hit him like a brick in the face. "I am… depressed," he said, his tone softening.

She pursed her lips and brushed the back of his hair. "Yes, you are, my boy of blue," she said. "But, it's okay. You're not alone. I'm depressed too. Just… differently, I guess."

Neha's voice suddenly came from above. "Enjoy," she said, handing Merlin's half-smoked joint to her. "We can't have these backstage." Then she scrammed.

"Thanks?" Hawke said. She was more confused by the generosity than what was in it, as she quickly took a drag. "Hoo, Maker's sweet bosom."

"What is it?" he asked.

"I don't know but it's calming the pants off me," she said, and held it in his direction.

Calming, she said? He needed some calming. But was it a good idea? Probably not.

"I don't want to become like that guy, though," he said.

"I think he was having this to counteract the gloom. Otherwise, why would Neha not have taken it away like she did his drink?"

"Good point," he said and reluctantly took the thing. He looked at it, then holding it between his thumb and index finger, took a drag. His lungs immediately felt red and painful, and he coughed hard.

"Easy there," she said. But then he just took another drag, coughed again, then took a third one, and exhaled the smoke through his nose as he tapped onto the filter. That was no beginner move. "You're a smoker?" she said incredulously.

"No," he said.

"Right," she said. "I think past you might have been a smoker. Your hands instinctively knew what to do. And you did the dragon breath thing."

He looked at it. "Well, shit."

"Yeah, pretty shit. You must have been a kid," she said with a little pity. "And, by the way, what the hell was that with Neha?"

"Right. That," he said, embarrassed and thoughtful. "I just thought I met her before. But I was wrong."

"Right…" she said. "Anything else I should know about?"

Fenris sighed heavily and gave her the joint. "I saw things in the Fade. When I took a walk."

She came up from her seat. "What did you see?" she said softly, smoking.

He shook his head, looking up at the light dancing on his face. "I saw… my home. Or, some part away from home. I don't know if it was, but it must have been. I saw a big tree I might have spent time under. Then I saw elves and humans and Tal Vashoth practising battle together."

She listened closely and she could feel the emotion in his voice. "Your people?"

"Perhaps," he said. "These images… I didn't remember them. They were just… presented to me. As if I'd stumbled upon a house, and the only thing I knew was that it had once belonged to me. I had to make my own assumptions."

"That must have been trying," she said. "How did it make you feel?"

"Strange," he said. "And a little curious."

"What happened next?" she said.

Suddenly he smiled to himself. "I met three very foul-mouthed parrots."

"Yep, yep, like owner, like birds," she said, amused.

"I don't know if I was their owner," he said.

"Don't you?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "You lose track of time and everything surrounding you when you talk about birds. In a good way, I mean." She didn't want to sound like he was boring her.

"That is a lead, but not evidence," he said. "Besides, if it were true, I would have to bury my head in the deepest pit for the names I might have chosen."

She was already trying not to laugh. "Come on," she said, eager. "Out with it."

He smiled and sighed. "Fumo," he said, raising his thumb.

"Again, like owner, like bird," she said, nodding mockingly.

He let his head fall back for the second one. "Elvis," he said, raising his index finger too.

She started cackling, her face a total caricature.

"And Lemon," he finished, raising his middle finger. Then he put the other fingers down and held the middle one into her face.

She didn't care. She held on it for balance, continuing to laugh. "Man, you really deserve the name Bird Boy," she said.

"I trust you'll keep my secrets, as I do yours," he said, a little threateningly.

"Oh, I can make fun of you all by myself, trust me," she said. "You will never hear the end of it."

"Wonderful," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

She seemed to calm down. "Was one of them dark green with multicoloured specks?" she said, remembering her helpful guide.

"Yes," he said, frowning.

"So, you do remember what happened before I found you?" she said.

"I don't know. I remember it now. I saw my past reflection in a puddle of water, and he tried to drag me into it. Have I forgotten?" he said.

"Yes. You completely forgot when I found you," she said. "Maybe 'cause you fainted?" She took a pensive drag. "Well, shit. A demon disguised as past you tried to hurt you?" She gave him the last of the joint.

Fenris took it and looked blankly at the floor. "Fuck the Fade," he said and took a drag, exhaling through his nose. He tossed the filter on the ground.

"But do you remember who saved you?" she said. "The elven woman?"

"I remember… something," he said. "A soft feeling. Like safety. What did she look like?"

"Dark hair, green eyes, tall. Very tall," she said. He wasn't responding. "Fenris, I think that could have been your mother," she said softly.

A flash of terror went over his face.

"Not your real mother, of course," she said awkwardly. "I mean, a compassionate spirit that took her form, to comfort you."

His eyebrows rose and pushed together in a sad, gloomy expression. He had the worst pain in his chest. The smoke didn't help.

"Fuck the Fade?" she said defeatedly.

"Fuck the Fade," he said tiredly.

Before he knew it, he found himself embraced by her. She put her head on his shoulder, holding him tightly. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I took you there," she said, a wealth of guilt in her voice. "I swear it took me by surprise too. It's very rare that a spirit can intrude my territory, and they usually knock first."

He closed his eyes, and put his arms around her too. "Don't be too sorry," he said, letting his head rest on hers. "Unintentionally, you gave me something I had always wished for. Just one, just any memory… Even in Seheron, I couldn't remember anything," he said, his voice betraying his pain.

"You went to Seheron? You never told me," she said.

"I will tell you," he said. "In eight days."

"Why in eight days?" she said.

He took himself away, but his hands lingered on hers. "Because that's how it should be."

A corner of her mouth smiled. "Sure. I deserve cryptic. Eight days, then."

"Good evening, guys, gals and non-binary pals!" Merlin shouted, his strong voice bouncing loudly against the walls. "We are here tonight, as we are every night, to raise your spirits so high they beam through this ceiling and shake the ground of Val Chevin!"

People cheered extatically.

"We see a lot of familiar faces here, but to those of you slower to discover this magnificent place, we bid you a warm welcome… and a warning—"

"Oh, no. The Gloaming will come for us all?" Hawke said tiredly.

"We will take you on a journey… of pain, and sorrow… but also of love and hope. Don't be afraid of whatever feelings may come up!" Merlin said confidently. "It's what makes us all people. It's what moves us, body and soul. It's what brought us together tonight. Thank you, all of you, for still giving this world a fighting chance!"

"You think he says that every night, despite his inclinations?" Fenris said.

"I think he needs to remind himself every night," Hawke said. "Or perhaps on stage it's where he's not depressed."

"Is there but one artist without melancholia?" he asked rather rhetorically.

She smiled crookedly. "Not at this table, master painter."

He laughed briefly and his fingers tapped on the glass. "What is your stage, Hawke?"

"My friends," she said, very matter-of-factly. "You, Aveline, Varric, the others. You keep me grounded. All we are is our connections."

He nodded to himself, deep in thought. "I've always admired that about you," he said.

"What?" she said.

"How you keep your friends," he said. "You're there when it matters, not when it's convenient."

"Well," she said, her tone unreceptive to his compliment. "I'm not always there in the way people need me, if I've learned anything from this relationship."

"It's more than I can say for most people, including myself, I'm afraid," he said. "You've learned from it. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Okay…" she said, amused and confused. "Firstly, you're learning too. You're not the same person I met three years ago. And I would have bet you silvers to shortcake we'd never get this close."

His face muscles turned to stone. "You're really appropriating that expression, then?"

"I'm not appropriating, I'm downright stealing it," she said proudly.

"How very ironic," he said, amused. "And second of all?"

"Right, second of all—your sudden positivity is freaking me out!" she said, amused. "Is that Fenris or the smoke?"

"Fenris isn't sure," he said, laughing at himself.

"So…" she said, putting a leg over Neha's empty chair. "What's your stage, sire?"

"I'm not certain," he said.

Reading filled him with a sense of peace. But that was only possible because she gave him the book, because she offered to teach him. Because she stuck by and repeated the same exercise in spite of how often he failed. She always acted as if she was giving the same piece of advice for the first time. She didn't make him feel bad about himself. Come to think of it, she never really made him feel bad about himself with anything, unless he made her feel bad about herself with his rather hasty choice of words on magic. He shouldn't take that for granted. It meant a lot to him that they were friends.

That he needed her became an ineradicable reality, and it was hard for him to accept that. Saying it out loud made him feel better, but it didn't magically take away his issues. He didn't want her to be his crutch. Especially not his only crutch. It wouldn't be right.

But feeling needed—that meant the world to him.

"Perhaps I should start looking for what brings me happiness," he said.

"What a great idea!" she said, coming forward in her seat and taking his hand. "Let's investigate that too. Follow me!"

He let himself get gently dragged across. "Well, I enjoy following you," he said, smirking.

Hawke led him inside the crowd and, despite his suspicions, simply held his hand and listened to the music. Merlin was singing about vampire women hunting the city's nightspots for beautiful boys. Fitting, perhaps. But she wasn't going for it. She just closed her eyes and moved her hips lazily to the beat. Occasionally, she flung their palm embrace back and forth. All the while Fenris stood there like an unmoving statue.

The human woman was playing guitar and backing vocals. Poppy backed them too, but she also had about four instruments around her she would perhaps switch between songs. A xylophone, a violin, a cello and a harp. She must have been a true virtuoso. Must have been so quiet because she was lost in her world of music sheets and finger moves. But Neha was by far the most badass, being on a higher step in the back with her long horns under a flower cluster as she played a gigantic set of differently sized drums. What was that even called? Just drums, maybe.

Merlin was now singing a whole strange song about his heart. It was a fish out of water, it was a house in a tornado, it was anything but right where it should be. But it wasn't dead, it was just lifeless. And that could be changed, despite his many failures. His hope radiated through the pain and reached Fenris' responsive heart. He found himself tapping his foot and bobbing his head to it.

Then he started singing about how he liked wearing women's undergarments, which he stopped relating to. But it was too late. The music infected his stiff spine and made it talk to him, move him, but only a little. Hawke was giving him approving looks and she bumped her hip into him. He gave her a little contained smile and came to her ear.

"Woe you lycan otter rink?" she heard him say. She gave him two happy, albeit confused thumbs up.

He went to the bar and tried a few samples. He still couldn't help himself but tap his foot and bob his head.

"This is good. What's this called?" he asked the bartender.

"Redheaded Slut," she said.

"Really?" he said, his face muscles getting tense. "Does it have another name perhaps?"

The bartender shrugged. "Redheaded Whore?"

"Still not helping," he said to himself. But it wasn't like they were going to exchange thoughts about drinks in that loudness. "I'll take it," he said, clearing his throat. "And a Sex on the Beach."

The bartender seemed to laugh at herself at his expense. "You're really trying, aren't you?"

"Actually, I'm not too fond of these names, so if I come back here, would you remember my order so I don't have to go through this awful process again?" he said.

"Gotcha, ace," she said, still amused.

He didn't know what that meant. He was more of a nines kind of guy.

When he returned, Hawke was jumping around. He gave her the drink and started nursing his own with a hand in his pocket and a lazy sway. The human woman was singing a silly tune about how she couldn't remember the last time she had slept with a guy where it lasted more than three seconds. He punched himself in the teeth with his glass at that sentence, while Hawke started laughing at him. Then the singer went on that she'd rather die than sleep with another straight human guy. Hawke woo'ed her in agreement. Well, alright, no pressure. He was probably only one of those things, right? No… pressure at all, he thought, drinking.

Then something quite shocking happened, as Merlin urged through his next song for the lights to go out, because the wolves were watching. The walls literally turned their light off at his command, and came back to life with the beat.

"Apostates?" Fenris shouted through to her.

"Impossible! They would have been apprehended!" Hawke shouted back.

This was strange. Very strange. What other explanation could there be? That the walls had minds of their own? Ridiculous.

His terrifying song melted down into the human woman's next one, an upbeat and comforting song about how we were not alone and how important it was for the ones damned and misunderstood to stay together and not despair. This one was powerful, very powerful. The flower clusters started dispersing and reforming, virtually breathing with the beat, and then their old friends, the free roaming fireflies came above the stage making a thousand different patterns.

"What the fuck is happening!" Hawke shouted happily as she jumped.

"The Gloaming is getting a beating?" Fenris shouted back. What even was this magic? It was incredible. Incredible and terrifying. But the song was full of strength and hope, and everyone seemed to be coming together as if it was their favourite.

Either this was a revolutionary song by apostates, or something really mindfucking was behind this mechanism. His mind protested, but his spine wasn't having it. It commanded him to move more. So, he wolfed down the rest of his drink, and, at the very next minute, Hawke took his hands and dragged him into a playful dance.

He seemed to care less and less about what he was doing, and more about seeing her enjoy herself. She was beaming. So, he laughed at himself and just went with it. To and fro she flung them, like they were children, as the whole band of blushing lizards sang something vigorous about the cult of glamour and polyamory. What was this feeling? It was fun. It was—

Hawke's thick flying braids catapulted right into his face. He held his nose in pain as she covered her face and started laughing uncontrollably.

"Sorry! Maker, I'm so sorry!" she shouted, but laughing all the same. She had to sit down.

Still holding his nose, he sat down next to her, and pretended to take her face and throw it somewhere else. She let herself fall sideways and kept laughing.

"Anus!" his shouty voice came muffled through his hand, covering his wide smile.