Warning: This one will touch on Fenris's recurring night terror. I introduced it in Chapter 11 "The Fog Dream" in the remaster, the night they get back from the Deep Roads. If you scroll straight to the middle of the chapter you will find the sequence with the same header. This chapter will make much more sense if you read that. His Fog Dream has more relevance from now on. Sorry for the merry-go-round. Enjoy.

Also TW: Homophobia

Morning, The Fog Dream

He was back in the half-burned foggy forest, walking aimlessly as he always did. The two-headed rooster showed up from behind a tree to guide him, but something was different. He could hear things now. A sad pan flute wailed through the forest, wedded to ominous chime bells and the pounding sounds of a semantron.

In ancient times, the semantron, a wooden board, used to be beaten with two mallets in a rhythmic melody by a Tevinter monk to call the others to prayer or to funerals. In modern day Seheron, Tevinter armies used chime bells to send coded messages, Qunari and Tal-Vashoth had the Asaara-Khaletan, a modified pan flute, and the Fog Warrior natives had the semantron. For all the other enemy factions knew, it was just a country monastery doing its thing. Seheron had a lot of churches and monasteries. More so, funerals. Three hundred years of implacable war had left its scars in the Veil, and people built places of worship around them to appease it. But the more prideful among them told themselves the lie that a church was built after every victory in battle, and the vicious cycle continued.

Then the smell filled his senses. It smelled like tea, incense and the sea. It smelled like home.

He followed the two-headed rooster to the dark theatre, the semantron growing louder and louder.

Inside, there was the familiar audience of faceless wooden puppets. Only, unfamiliarly, all non-eyes were on him. He came in the aisle, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked up at the stage. The more recent addition to his Fog Dream was Hawke as the presenter in a navy frock, purple vest, turquoise bow tie and a magician's top hat. In the most bizarre display of cultural appropriation, she was beating the semantron with a puppet arm and a leg.

"Ladies, gays and they's, the time for cryptic hogwash is coming to an end!" she said in an entertainer voice. She stood up and threw away the arm, then the leg. "Welcome to our play!—Can You Feel The Sun?"

This was it. His moment of enlightenment. There was finally no "pre" play, but the play. But was he ready for it?

Dark-haired, winged, full-hearted, faceless Fenris came behind her, tapping her shoulder. She turned to him, something was exchanged, and she turned back to the audience.

"I'm sorry, it seems we're having some technical difficulties..." Hawke said awkwardly. The puppet audience voiced their upset. "Now, now, worry not! The show must go on, and so it shall, no matter what!"

"What's the problem?" a puppet asked irately.

"You see, our Star here," she said, taking Dark Fenris by the shoulder, whom everyone applauded, "has always been quite the dancer, as you well know." Cheering commenced. "But today, he was supposed to find his voice. To speak! It was time he did. He has to. He wants to. But unfortunately, our Patriarch will not pay for a mouth!"

The audience booed the Patriarch, wherever he was.

"Outrageous!" a puppet shouted.

"Make it right!" another puppet said.

"Speak!" another demanded. Others followed.

"And speak he shall! That's a promise! We will resist the Patriarch!" Hawke said, fist in the air. "But no matter! We prepared for this event. I have some things to say to the Patriarch. Give him a piece of my mind!"

"But what if he takes your mouth, too?" a puppet asked.

Hawke laughed. "The Patriarch can silence him, silence you, but he cannot silence me! He does not pull my strings! And that, my friends, is Pride Before The Fa—!"

Dark Fenris tapped her shoulder again. Another awkward exchange took place.

"Right," Hawke said, turning to the audience. "Our Star would like me to recite a poem first, in protest to the Patriarch."

"Where is the Patriarch? Why doesn't he show his face?" a puppet said irately.

Dark Fenris came beside her, holding her hand.

"Because he's a coward!" Hawke shouted dramatically. The audience booed the Patriarch. She gestured to the audience to quiet down. "Now…" she said softly, holding out the paper.

Do you speak my language, friend?

Do you see me play pretend?

Do you read my dreams aloud

When I send them through the crowd?

How many more beats can your heart even stall?

How long does happiness last, after all?

Are thoughts always free or do they tether?

Can your soul exist without me, light as a feather?

Where do thoughts go if you lose the drums?

What do they sound like if no one comes?

For everything in life, you have to pay the piper.

Behind every victory, there's a loser and a viper.

Are you someone's friend? Lover? Brother? Son?

Are you the loser, the viper or just a tired pun?

I'm stuck, I'm stuck, I'm stuck here in my skin.

I'm stuck, I'm stuck, I'm stuck with you; I've been

Waiting here forever, and I hope you will come.

I want to speak, I want to be— I want to feel the sun.

The audience cheered, clapped and whistled. They really liked the Star.

"Moving words, my dear. Thank you," Hawke said, tapping him on the back. "Now let the show… begin!"

Hawke commanded the curtains to open and the orchestra to start. The background was cut in half between a scenery of Ferelden and a scenery of Tevinter. The only props on stage were two pairs of armchairs.

An Andrei puppet entered, and Hawke walked towards him, singing, "So I never really knew you. Maker, I really tried to… Blindsided… Addicted… Felt we could really do this, but, really, I was foolish. Hindsight is… obvious…"

A puppet Aveline came on stage to comfort her. "Talking with the Captain, she said, 'Where'd you find this guy?'. I said, 'Young people fall in love… with the wrong people sometimes…"

Dark Fenris started a ballet from one end of the stage to another, while puppet Andrei took a seat in Ferelden. Hawke and Aveline held hands and sang together.

"Some mistakes get made. That's alright. That's okay. You can think that you're in love, when you're really just in pain."

"Some mistakes get made. That's alright. That's okay. In the end it's better for me. That's the moral of the story, babe!"

Dark Fenris took her into a dance, spinning her and suspending her.

"It's funny how a memory…" she sang to him as he pulled her up, "…turns into a bad dream."

She left him and spun around on her own. "When running wild… turns volatile!"

Then, she fell into the armchair next to Andrei, regarding him with affection. "Remember how we wanted to run? Just like my parents did… So romantic! But we fought the whole time! Should have seen the signs!" she sang angrily, standing up.

A puppet Leandra came to comfort her. "Talking with my mother, she said, 'Why'd you choose this guy?'. I said, 'Some people fall in love… with the wrong people sometimes…"

Dark Fenris continued to dance on his own, while Hawke, Leandra and Aveline held hands and sang.

"Some mistakes get made. That's alright. That's okay. You can think that you're in love, when you're really just in pain."

Then, a puppet Danarius slowly walked behind them, taking a seat in Tevinter.

"Some mistakes get made. That's alright. That's okay. In the end it's better for me. That's the moral of the story, babe!"

Hawke, Leandra, Aveline and Dark Fenris held out their hands to help the dreaming Fenris on stage. The orchestra continued.

"No…" he said, backing away.

"Come on, babe, you can do it," Hawke said, winking.

"No!" he screamed in terror.

He ran out of the theatre. He ran as far away as his legs could take him.

He stopped, catching his breath, overwhelmed by the feeling of wanting to die. He looked up at the sky indistinguishable from fog, his eyes wet, and screamed, "Wake up! Wake up!"

He fell to his knees, holding his chest, and kept trying to wake up.

Then that ominous semantron creeped into his ears, and he looked around, and his blood froze. Puppets were standing in the fog. As soon as they made eye contact, the wood started to fall, revealing the wolf-headed shadow people.

He picked himself up and ran, ran as fast as he could, but it was no use. He became smaller and smaller and he was the slowest worm in the world. The shadow people surrounded him and kicked him to the ground as the semantron grew louder, and, in familiar fashion, took turns kicking and cursing him.

It was a terrible pain. It was always a terrible pain. He will have woken up by now, but they just kept kicking him. And then the curses started to gain more colour.

"Fucking sissy!" one of them said.

"Foggy Dancerson's gonna cry!" another said.

"Eat it, faggot!" another said.

Waking, dying, it didn't make a difference. Any way out he would take. He couldn't take anymore. A wolf-head shadow kicked and turned him on his back and prepared to stomp on his face.

Then, through the fog, a pair of shadow horns came behind the wolf-head, and he was obliterated. A tall oxwoman shadow punched, kicked and threw every wolf-head out of existence. When every last one was destroyed, she stood over him and held out her hand.

"Maraas shokra, Le—"

Fenris woke up screaming. He could barely breathe.

It was raining outside. Hawke left her cigarette on the balcony and ran in.

"Are you okay? What happened?" she said in alarm. She wanted to hug him, but stopped herself. The robe was too thin and he was terrorised.

He buried his face in his hands. He didn't say a word. Couldn't.

"You still have night terrors?" Hawke said softly, petting his hair.

He came off the bed and went on the balcony and sucked the life out of that remaining cigarette.

"Talk to me," she said softly.

"I'm sorry," Fenris said, smoking, coughing and looking anywhere else. "I can't."

Hawke sighed heavily. "It's alright. It's okay."

He looked at her, his eyes activated. "Did you…?"

"Please. I spent the entire night with Ravena listening to her bitch about Crowley, then I had to create a fucking noise complaint form for Murmur and schedule a tenants' association meeting because she can't fucking function like a casual person," Hawke said.

A distraction. Good. "What happened?" he said. He looked at his hand. The cigarette was burning through the filter. "Kevesh," he growled.

Hawke went inside and gave him one of her fancy pre-rolled chocolate cigarillos. "Don't become a smoker, please."

He scoffed. "Like you are?"

"I won't," she said firmly. "So, Mr and Mrs Bitch had a fight. Well, they had the same fight they've been having for years now. He wants her to be a person and she wants to stay a demon."

Fenris nodded pensively, smoking and coughing. "She is in pain."

"She told you?" Hawke said, surprised.

"She didn't have to," he said, flicking on the cigarillo.

"Well, I don't know what to do," she said, sighing. "She can't get over what happened to her. It's coloured her whole perception."

Distraction… adjacent. He inhaled. "Just be there for her."

"I just don't get how she doesn't see she's a person already," Hawke said. "I mean I gave her a house. We hang out all the time. She's in a relationship, for crying out loud."

"Having a mind of one's own is more difficult than you can understand, Hawke," Fenris said. "You were a person from the start. You were treated like one your whole life."

"But she has me, my personhood, rubbing off her. That's how the others changed," Hawke said passionately. "She has Crowley, for fuck's sake. I think at this point he's more person-like than I am!"

"He's a clown," Fenris said, but his face was too anaesthetised to smirk. "But he's good people."

Hawke looked at him and a kind of sad warmth filled her eyes. "Thanks for saying that."

"But Ravena is trouble. All those 'adolescent' demons are."

"Please, you should see Ruelle."

"Who?" Fenris said, a cold creeping down his spine.

"I didn't introduce you," Hawke said shyly. "She's still in the cave."

"I don't remember fighting a demon we couldn't best after the Deep Roads."

"I absorbed her when I was looking for Carver and Devon. She's on the odder side of demons. A demon of Regret, I think."

An excellent distraction. "And she's been in the cave that long?"

"Demons don't experience time," Hawke said defensively. "They might have an understanding of it when they watch mortals, but in the cave, it might as well have been five minutes for her."

Fenris exhaled his smoke. "Or an eternity."

She looked hurt by that, and she grabbed on the railing. "When she wants to come out, she will."

He watched her face. He knew her too well. He didn't shut up. "Or you don't want her to come out, because you're afraid."

She pursed her lips in extreme annoyance. "I will get over it when I get over it."

He snickered through his nose. "If only you had the same empathy for Ravena."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she said irately.

"You put on a show for me and caged her. You are impatient with her journey."

She wanted to protest, but he had her. She had a tail between her legs. "Yeah. I didn't think that one through…"

"Everything has its time, like you said."

"I suppose."

"But you have to be vigilant. And you have to understand your power. You are too dangerous to be lasses-faire about it."

"Here we go," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I think I make a perfectly reasonable point," Fenris said, resting against the railing. "You're not a Dreamer. Fine. I get that. Case closed. But you are something, and you don't even know what that is, or how far it can go."

"Well, I tried. My father tried."

"Have you tried since you became a noble?"

"Not exactly…"

Fenris put a hand on his hip and looked at her judgementally.

"You saw they don't have power over me. There's nothing to fear!"

"They may not have power over you, but power they have plenty, locked and unused. And you have power over them," Fenris said, and gave a long exhale of smoke. "And power… is a fragile trick of perception."

"Andraste, if only I had shot glasses."

"Be serious."

"Fine!" Hawke said, sighing. "Can I choose to merge with them? Probably. Have I done it? No. Am I going to? Also, no."

"I know you wouldn't," Fenris said, petting her arm. That seemed to soften her. "But be honest with me. If that cage in Lothering had no runes… wouldn't you have done it?"

"If there were no runes on that cage, I would've melted it and his face off," she said, her tone a slow, threatening burn. "I lost my life, I lost my world, and I didn't resort to that! Why would I? I would have destroyed Lothering before the darkspawn did. Who wants an abomination as a mother, a daughter, a sister?" She sighed. "Plus, you have to understand that this is a matter of consent. Even if I wanted to, they wouldn't. They're a family. Even if, let's say, I lost my sanity and proposed it to Belleth, who I'm sure would be tempted, the others wouldn't let him. Crowley and I made a pact. If anyone may consent, he'd knock them over the head and drag them to the cave."

They really were a family, then. It was actually kind of sweet. But still, those spirit-demon-people were influenced by her manner of being, and her manner of being could always change, given the wrong conditions for a right amount of time. He thought it would be perfectly logical to assume that if she could make demons into spirits, she could also make spirits into demons. He saw the nightmare that a mere panic attack caused. How long can a nightmare last before it changes you to the point of no return? Crowley may have been the most person-like, but all people had a price, in the final analysis.

Fenris looked down, and went deeper into his thoughts. "I fought an abomination near Vol Dorma, once."

"Good for you," she said sarcastically.

"She was unlike anything I'd ever seen," he said, staring into nothingness. "She overtook a fortress. They fought her for thirteen days. We only got there in the last three. Hundreds of people died."

She became silent and attentive, containing her anger.

"She was the tallest, most immense abomination I'd ever seen. Her head had a million eyes."

"And that's what you think I'd become? A million-eyed abomination that will eat Kirkwall?"

"A million eyes, a million heads, what does it matter? If she was like you, and I'm becoming more and more certain she was, you could become a veritable hydra. As long as there's a chance, you need to take measures."

"Sure, why don't I just walk into that Chantry over there and let them lobotomise me?"

Fenris sighed heavily. "I won't let you do that. I won't let you do anything foolish," he said, looking at her determinedly.

"Then it's good you're not upsetting me," she said sarcastically and gave herself eight finger-horns. "Look out for hydra heads after breakfast."

He was filled with dread. Why did he have to bring it up? He was overwhelmed with fear. The words were on his lips. 'I can't lose you, Hawke. Nothing could be worse than living without you.' But he couldn't say it. So, he changed some words around. "Devon can't lose you, Hawke. She deserves her mother, her happiness. For her sake, please do some research. If not for her, then for me."

Hawke looked like she was going to rip the railing apart. "Fine. I will do my research."

"Thank you," Fenris said, and pulled her to him. "You don't know what this means to me."

"Maker, I really didn't need this right now," she said, sighing in his embrace.

"At least I talked," he said, his face muscles finally gaining mobility.

"Yeah, but…"

"What's wrong?"

She looked up at him, hesitated. "I have something to do today."

"What?" he said, frowning.

She looked down. "A couple of weeks ago, I got a letter with an update from one of my scouts. They… found a girl here."

"Of course…" Fenris said, shaking his head. "That's why you took me here."

"So I did," Hawke said. "I took you with me."

He felt like the biggest jerk. It was no random slip of the tongue on a lazy afternoon that made her reveal her secrets to him. She was going to, either way. She was going to show him how important he was to her.

"So you did…" he said softly. "I'm grateful." What an insufficient statement. It meant the world to him.

"You don't have to come with me if you don't want to."

"Where is this girl?"

Afternoon, Chantry Orphanage

Staring at the entrance, Hawke couldn't go in. Fenris held the umbrella over them and took her by the shoulder. "Come now. You can do it. You're the strongest person I know."

"And you're a master of pain," Hawke said bitterly. "And tell me, how easy is it for you to be touched?"

Words couldn't describe the amazing feeling he felt when she called him a master of pain. He'd always thought of himself as the opposite, given his often disabling condition. But she was right. His pain problem didn't make him weaker. It made him stronger. It made him able to face all kinds of pain in a way others couldn't. But this wasn't about him right now.

A night of partying obliterated the memory of her signature empty look. He'd forgotten how deeply sadness trembled in her eyes. How ancient and tired it made her. And now it was not a flash, but a constant reality.

He looked at those doors and said, "It is easier, Hawke. You make everything easier."

The Chantry Sister took them along the drab and loud corridors into a quiet room. Hawke was not in the mood for conversation, so Fernis held her hand tightly and waited with her. Someone in another room was (trying to) play piano. The distorted melody and the rain made it more real than necessary.

The door opened and Hawke stood up immediately. Holding the Sister's hand was a poker-faced young girl with dark hair and greenish hazel eyes.

Hawke came on her knees and looked at her. "Hi, Devon," she said softly. "Do you remember me?"

"Mon nom n'est pas Devon!" she screamed and went past her to play with some dolls.

Hawke looked up at the Sister. "She didn't have a name. We call her Eloise."

"I'm sorry. I forgot," Hawke said, and sat down next to the girl. "Eloise, tu te souviens de ton papa?" She took a man doll with dark hair and a ginger woman doll and showed it to her. The girl didn't respond. She threw the man doll away. She took a bird toy and put the ginger doll next to it and showed it to her. "Tu te souviens quand je t'emmenais voir les oiseaux à Lothering?"

"Non!" Eloise said, turning away.

Hawke looked like someone stabbed her in the gut. She swallowed and contained herself.

Eloise pointed at Fenris, which scared him more than any demon. "Mon papa avait les cheveux blancs. Il est allé dormir."

"Ah," Hawke said, sighing.

"What did she say?" Fenris asked in alarm.

"That her daddy had white hair, and he went to sleep one day."

"Ah," Fenris said. He felt a little gutted himself. "But what if that was Andrei's dad?"

"He died during the Blight."

Venhedis…

Back under the umbrella, Fenris didn't know what to say to her. He was filled with hate for himself and sadness for her. This was what she did, over and over again, when she went away.

"I don't know what to say, but I am here," he said, taking her hand.

She didn't respond. She just stared somewhere and she was trembling as they walked. People went past them, going about their day.

This was just terrible. Hawke was the talker. Hawke was the comforter. Hawke had the emotional maturity. He was just the quiet tin man with no heart. But he couldn't be that anymore. He didn't want to.

"Follow me," Fenris said, pulling her into a back alley. He turned his back to the wall and hugged her. She buried her face in his chest and broke into crying. Nothing like the silly sobs she used to show people. Forget the pan flute in the Fog Dream. This was the saddest sound in the world. He petted her hair and rested his chin on her head. "I'm not going anywhere. Let it all out."

So she did. She cried so much he wanted to cry. He wiped his eyelids and contained himself, then he remembered…

"Hey… this is not a funeral…" he crooned, holding her. "It's a revolution, after all, mhm-hmm-mhm… to rage. Just wait… everything will be okay… even when you're feeling like… mhm-mhm… you forgot the lyrics… backstaaage."

Her crying mingled with laughter. She took a minute, then she looked up at him. "You can sing?"

"Don't tell anyone," Fenris said, smiling a little. "Sebastian will drag me to his choir group and who knows what Varric will do."

"Your rockstar boyfriend will be so pleased," Hawke said, chuckling and wiping away her tears.

"Someone's feeling better," he said with a smile. Maker, he did it! He did something! He felt so proud of himself, but tried to hide it. This wasn't about him.

"Maybe… maybe we could get the blushing lizards to sing for your birthday," she said, thinking.

"An excellent idea," he said, although he had doubts. Kirkwall was tainted for them. "But I'm not coming out." He had rushed into this and didn't even think of the consequences. What that meant. What it all meant. He pushed it all back down.

"Fine, fine…" she said, pouting. "My boyfriend's a total hetero."

"That you can tell people," he said, letting her go.

"I think saying you're a hetero everywhere you go negates it," she said, chuckling.

"No, silly. That I'm your boyfriend."

Finally, the clownish smile. He missed it.

Days passed and they went to see Carver. He was as happy as a sack of old potatoes, but he warmed up to her in the end. He was not surprised at all Fenris was with her. He told him he knew about their crushes since the beginning and he had no idea how annoying it was to listen to Hawke fawn, bitch and despair about him. Fenris was beaming with arrogance and delight. Carver asked how Merrill was doing, which prompted Hawke to apologise to him for her blindness and idiocy. Fenris had been right. That made his day.

"So, when's the wedding?" Carver asked evilly.

"Easy, Carver, we just got together," Hawke said.

"Just?" Carver said, face-palming himself. "What the hell took you so long?"

"I am not an easy man," Fenris said, smirking vainly.

But he hadn't altogether thought things through. At one point, he was alone with Carver, and the boy cornered him and changed his tone surprisingly quickly.

"Listen carefully, Tevinter scarecrow," Carver said with the most aggressive eyes. "If you ever, ever, hurt my sister, I'm going to make you glow-fist your own heart out."

"I am certain she will do that herself before you get to," Fenris said, composed.

"You think this is funny, Funny Man?" Carver said, taking a step in. The Wardens had hardened him beyond imagining.

Fenris took a step back. "No," he said firmly.

"Good," Carver said. "You know I got promoted. You never know when I might take a detour and kick your arse out of this universe."

Nothing like a Hawke scorned, he thought to himself. "Your sister…" Fenris looked away. He closed his eyes tightly, because he couldn't say it. So, he found an alternative. "If I ever hurt her, I deserve whatever comes for me."

Carver looked down on him, searching his expression. "Good. Great," he said. Her brother extended his hand, and he took it. "Welcome to the family."

Fenris died, and, consequently, could not stop shaking his hand.

Evening, Hightown

They got to her door. He didn't want to let her go. He was kissing and hugging her all over.

"Maker, you're like a puppy," Hawke said, chuckling warmly.

Fenris paused and gave her a side look.

"In a good way!" she said, hugging him. "Like adorable and warm and makes me wanna die."

"I've never been called adorable and warm," he said, beaming inside. "Making people want to die—that I've heard plenty."

"Meanings can change," she said, petting his hair.

So… what? He could be... not the condescending version of a little wolf, a tamed pet, as was intended, but someone that could go from extremely cute to extremely deadly if his pack was threatened? Maybe he could work with that. His name always felt nicer in her mouth. Something to think about. But not now. He wasn't finished with her.

"Alright…" Hawke said, closing one eye, trying to get away, "Gotta go… sometime… this century."

"Ugh," Fenris said, stopping himself. "Can you just leave your mouth with me?"

"Sorry, no, I need that," Hawke said. "How about a leg?" she said, raising one towards him.

"I don't know what to do with that…" Fenris said, looking at it.

"Hey, you've got a picture of me now!" she said, hitting him gently. "Kiss that."

"I don't know…" he said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm in it too. I think it might get weird."

She flashed her eyebrows. "You like weird."

He chuckled. "Fine. Go."

"Or you could come with me…?" she said, raising her eyebrows innocently.

"Hard no," Fenris said. "If I run into your mother getting a glass of water, I will die."

"Of what?" she said, laughing.

"Does it matter? The point is I'm dead, and then who will kiss you?"

"I get around."

"Hm," Fenris said, looking at his red wristband. "Maybe I should get you one of these."

"People have seen that thing on my sword for years. They'll just think I consider myself a weapon."

Fenris chuckled, and embraced her again. "And…? Am I a weapon?" he said flirtatiously.

"Oh, and how," Hawke said, grinning. She planted a kiss on him, and he loved and hated it. He hated saying goodbye.

"I'll come by tomorrow?" he said hopefully.

"Oh, yeah!" she said happily. "Come by for lunch." Her eyebrows rose in a realisation. "Hey! Maybe my mum will die!"

He chuckled. "I doubt it. She gave me her blessing already."

"When?" she said, making a double chin.

"Some things are better left a mystery," he said, and kissed her one last time. "Night night."

"Nighty night!"

As she turned around, he thought he should do one last new thing, so he spanked her. Her eyes turned owlishly at him, but she was happy about it.

Night time, Fenris's Mansion

As he came inside, his lungs filled with dust and he coughed for the next half hour. He'd done a lot of naughty things to his lungs lately. He looked around his room and, immediately thought—This is all wrong. This place looks sad. He should make the place nicer. Get a nicer bedding, maybe put up some plants, some flowers. Make her feel comfortable.

He went to his pack and put the painting on his night stand and got into bed. He stared at it for another half hour, just reminiscing what was fresh and strong in his mind. An immense feeling of happiness. Damn the night terrors, damn all the bad things. They were not going to ruin this feeling. He wanted to be happy. Where had this feeling been his whole life?

He felt like the most blessed man in the world. The luckiest guy north of Serendipity Street. He didn't even want to sleep. He wanted to tell someone. But who? He felt jealous in the moment, of how women shared deep platonic bonds and told each other everything. Maybe he should get a… BFF? But whom to choose? He couldn't get Aveline, because she was Hawke's BFF. He couldn't get Varric; he would have written all the details down. Armand was too far away. He could be his best pen pal, possibly.

He came up and went to the table and started writing.

Dear Armand,

I finally understand. You were right. Happiness can't kill me. It was the overthinking. I feel like I'm finally living and not just existing.

I was in Val Chevin recently with Hawke. Beautiful city. I met a lot of queer people. They really know how to party.

I hope you and Dorian are enjoying your new home. How's the inappropriate Antivan? I found a naughty shop in Val Chevin that had all manner of chastity devices in stock. He could really use one.

Write back to me sometime on Hawke's address. I have a feeling she might read my mail, so include something disturbing on the front page to freak her out for me. Thank you in advance.

Your friend,

Happy Bitch (recently graduated)

PS: Is snow really that soft?

He looked up at the window, and he felt good. He could finally go to sleep. He looked at the painting one last time, smiled to himself, and drifted off.

Afternoon, Minrathous

On a warm Sunday afternoon, Orana made the decision to finally leave the mansion. She had reached the age to go out on her own, and it was a big deal to do it. But Minrathous was a different city than she'd remembered it as a child. She remembered seeing the giant juggernauts that guarded the city gates when the humans brought them there from the farm. They were so big and terrifying she hid under papa's apron until they reached the mansion.

It had been less than a year that a new law was passed that granted slaves a rest day every week. It was absolutely unheard of, according to her papa. He was very happy when the news came! But to her, it didn't mean much. On the contrary, it meant a terror. It meant having to go outside. Other slaves made fun of her for her agoraphobia and she felt really bad about it. They thought she was crazy to refuse a privilege such as that. She wanted to prove everyone wrong.

It took her a few months to get the courage to walk more than a few feet past the gates, but today, she was doing it.

She was walking to the market!

But she hadn't thought it all the way through. She was too preoccupied with getting her body to move to foresee the fact that she was frightened by all the huge buildings, terrified of speaking to people. The city was so big and busy and intimidating. Magical skyscrapers regaled the sky everywhere one looked, and she felt if she said anything to anyone they would strike her, or at least, become angry for inconveniencing them.

But she was determined to try, because it was more than just about her. She wanted her papa to be proud of her, and she wanted Mistress to be happier too.

In the last few years, Hadriana had become very, very angry. If she wasn't angry, she was hiding away in her room crying. She'd been working so hard, she wasn't sleeping, wasn't eating, wasn't taking her Sunday off. She was getting sick at least twice a month and she wouldn't rest to recover. Papa was making more soup than he'd ever made in his life!

She didn't understand exactly what was going on with the Mistresses' work, but it had something to do with her disappointing magister Danarius. He took away a big project from her and gave it to Barnabas, whom she despised. Barnabas and other apprentices made fun of her all the time. Hadriana had told her once that it was very hard for women to be taken seriously in the Imperium, and her mother had warned her not to show any weakness and work as hard as she could. She had to work twice as hard to get half as much. She couldn't help but empathise. That's what her papa had told her too about their own kind.

So, Orana thought it would be nice if she bought Mistress some windchimes for her window. She remembered her saying she had windchimes in her childhood home, and it always filled her with a sense of peace. Maybe they could help.

She just hoped she counted the coins right. She wasn't very good with money. She barely understood the concept. But how hard could it be, after all? It must have been like counting Mistresses' ornaments after every clean to make sure no one stole from her.

Her hand trembled as she counted the coins, and hoped that the vendor would see her and speak to her first. When he finally asked her what it shall be, she couldn't open her mouth. She became dizzy, her ears rang, she felt sick to her stomach and wanted to run away.

But something stopped her. The lady next to her dropped her bag and myriad of things fell out on the street. Orana instinctually bent down to help. As she picked up the lady's books, she noticed a small colourful painting of two people in a dance.

"What a beautiful painting!" Orana said excitedly, picking it up. She couldn't believe she opened her mouth. She was afraid the lady would strike her, so she cowered and held out the painting to her.

"Thank you. I forgot I had it," the lady said.

"How did you make that sky? It looks so pretty!" Orana said.

"It's called a palette knife technique," the lady said. "I quite love it. Do you paint?"

"My mama used to paint," Orana said, a sadness filling her eyes. "She's not with me anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear zat," the lady said. She looked at the painting and hesitated a little. "Say, if you like it so much, why don't you have it? I was supposed to send it to someone, but I held on to it because I screwed up the perspective and was being a baby about it. I'll just do a new one, as I should have from the beginning."

"I don't see anything wrong with your perspective. It's very nice."

The lady held the painting out to her. "Go on, zen."

"No, that would be wrong."

"It's not wrong. I want you to have it."

"My Mistress doesn't let me have things."

"Your Mistress sounds like a character," the lady said. She held her chin. "What if you gave it to her as a gift? Zen you could see it every day on ze wall, and you'd secretly know it's really yours."

Orana thought about it and the idea made her day. "Thank you, kind lady, thank you very much!" she said, bowing profusely.

"You're welcome, dear," the lady said. "By ze way, do you know how I can get to ze University? I'm not from around here."

"I'm sorry. I don't know the city either."

"Ah, it's alright. I'll ask around. You take care."

Windchimes and a pretty painting? The Maker blessed her today.

"What shall it be, then, rattus?" the vendor asked impatiently.

Orana looked up in alarm. "Oh, yes! So very sorry! I'd like those blue windchimes, please and thank you!"

Afternoon, Danarius Estate

"Mistress?" Orana said, opening the door just a little. Hadriana was sitting on the bed, and gave her an empty death glare. Her eyes were red again. "Very sorry to disturb you, Mistress, but I have something you might like."

"What?" Hadriana said, sighing.

Orana came in and showed her the windchimes. "You said these made you happy as a child."

"Ah, yes," the Mistress said pensively. "You can hang it on the window."

"At once!" Orana said happily. She put the painting on her bed and climbed on a chair to hang the windchimes.

"Where did you get his?" Hadriana said in alarm.

Orana turned to look and wobbled on the chair. "Oh, yes. I forgot. I got you this too. Isn't it pretty?"

"Orana, focus. Where did you get this?"

"A foreign student, I think."

"Name? Looks? Think, Orana!"

"She-she was white with blue eyes and dark curly hair, and she wore a long flowery cardigan. I didn't get her name, but she was going to the University."

Hadriana stared at it, completely dumb-founded.

Orana came off the chair towards her. "Do you like it, Mistress? I can't really tell."

Another round of terror and nausea overwhelmed her, as Hadriana sprung up towards her. She defended her face, but instead, the lady hugged her. She was never touched by a human before, let alone Mistress. Not in a good way, anyway. Only papa hugged her sometimes. It felt as nice as it felt unsettling. She didn't know what to do with it.

"You are one wonderful girl," Hadriana said, letting her go. "I'm going to the University. Now stop working! It's your day off."

Orana died, and came back, filled with happiness. The Mistress finally liked her instead of hitting her. She felt like the luckiest person alive.

"As you say, Mistress."

Hadriana grabbed her bag and rushed out. Orana couldn't help herself and straightened the bedsheets. Then Hadriana came back, hugged her again, and left.

The painting was thrown violently on the table. Danarius loomed over it in quiet contemplation.

"So… he's traipsing around with a new mistress in Orlais," he said sourly.

"No, sir. This copy was to be sent to Kirkwall," Hadriana explained.

Danarius looked at her as if he was about to murder her. "He's been living there? All this time?"

"It appears so, milord."

Danarius growled in annoyance, and went to the windows, holding his hands at the back. "I bet he's squatting in Claudius's mansion." He inhaled his anger and crossed his arms. "Who is this woman?"

"My research indicates she's a minor noble of House Amell. The family's only recently come out of destitution. It appears the last heir, Leandra, fled to Ferelden at the start of the century, and brought the bastards back to Kirkwall during the Blight."

"Now why would a noble abandon everything in Andraste's holy lands for a life of peasantry?" Danarius said, chin in his hand.

"She does not appear to be a mage, milord," Hadriana said.

"And her name?" Danarius demanded.

Hadriana hesitated. "It appears to be a fake name on record. Batista Asschabs."

"A funny bastard," Danarius said tiredly. "Anything else?"

"She leads a mercenary company called the Wings of Chaos. She co-owns a mine with one of Empress Celene's favourite merchants. She's politically active. Very anti-Chantry, anti-imperialist, pro-peasant and pro-elves. She has Viscount Dumar's favour and is very tight with the Guard. She seems to have other important friends, such as the heir to Starkhaven's throne and..."

"And…?"

"She seems to be in good relations with the Arishok, sir," Hadriana said uncomfortably.

"A leftist and a Qunari sympathiser? Ha!" Danarius said. "I'm impressed those barbarians haven't shot her in the head yet! I'm actually intrigued now."

"It does not look like we can enter the city, sir," Hadriana said, a little fearful of his response. "Guard-Captain Vallen rules with an iron fist, and she really dislikes slavers."

"So, our little Fenris—"

"Has outplayed us."

"Do not interrupt me when I'm speaking," Danarius said in calm tones of threat.

"Forgive me, milord."

Danarius scanned over a map of Thedas. "I'm sure I can call in some favours."

"Claudius's wife, Flavia is still alive. If we could get her to sell you the mansion, you'd have legal reason to enter the city."

The magister shook his head. "Flavia still won't speak to me."

"There are ways to make people talk."

"Don't bother. Her son is courting the Archon's niece. Flavia designed the Imperial reading room. She's untouchable. Then there's also what she has on me."

Hadriana stayed silent, pursing her lips.

"See if I can get in touch with Magistrate Vannard in Kirkwall. He has always been a sensible man."

"Yes, milord."

"But even if that doesn't pan out," Danarius said, looking at the painting. "The boy's got to leave the city sometime. If not for work, then for another little honeymoon."

"We stand ready for any further orders, sir," Hadriana said, bowing.

"See if Furia and Varania are still working at that sad little sweatshop in Qarinus," Danarius said.

"I've already checked, sir," Hadriana said, springing up. "That sweatshop caught on fire during a Qunari attack last spring. Furia is dead, I'm afraid."

"How ironic," Danarius said, smiling a little. "She stirred fires all her life, and then… she burned."

"Very amusing, sir," Hadriana agreed. "Varania survived, however. She works for Magister Ahriman now."

"Pray tell, how did the airheaded one survive but mama bear didn't?"

"Furia was involved in attempts to unionise the workers and helped Varania get maternity leave."

Danarius laughed. "Of course. Varania breaks the law and mother dearest somehow turns it around. Did she marry?"

"No, sir."

"Hm. So, the Silvanus bloodline continues strong," Danarius said. "Although I highly doubt it will last any longer. Ahriman is a total capitalist. Everyone knows he underpays his workers. Qarinus's inflation is through the roof, and single motherhood is expensive. Besides, Varania never struck me as having taken after her mother."

"Neither did Fenris, from where I'm standing," Hadriana said, chuckling.

"Then you should take a step back," Danarius said, looking grimly in the window. "You've always underestimated what he's capable of. And yet there he is, with powerful people in his pocket."

"I suppose," Hadriana said shyly.

"Don't suppose," Danarius said a little angrily. "Think."

Hadriana hesitated. "I suppose—I mean, I think… what Fenris can't do, Leto can."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Should I get in touch with Varania, then?"

"No. You know the girl can't read and if you go in person, Ahriman will think I'm trying to poach his workers," Danarius said. He crossed his arms, thinking. "I'll take Ahriman for lunch after the next Senate meeting. See if I could melt his heart so he'd give his workers some free education. Pitch it as an enterprising idea in his financial interest."

"Good thinking, sir," Hadriana said.

"See if you can find anything more about the funny bastard," Danarius said, picking up the painting. "She must have some skeletons in her closet."

"Of course."

"You may go now."

"Yes, sir."

As she got in the doorway, Danarius said, "Good work, my dear. Maybe you could lead the next attempt. Maybe I was wrong about you, after all."

Hadriana died, and came back, filled with happiness.

When she left, Danarius angrily stabbed Hawke's face with his dagger.

Disclaimer: Protest song thinly adapted from Moral of the Story by Ashe. And the short croon was from People Like Us (Doom Patrol version). That scene with Negative Man always makes me cry.

PS: I made up the Seheron lore and I will keep doing so due to the lack of actual lore at the moment :(