Hawke woke up in the middle of the night, looked to her left, and… she was on the wrong side of the bed? She liked the fireplace side better because she would get cold, while Fenris hated it. The pup and the painting were staring right at her, and then there was the older dog growling at her side. Mojo was unhappy with the guest that wasn't leaving. He liked Fenris, but he didn't like him in bed with her, where he belonged.

"Come on, boy, there's room at my feet."

The next problem was she felt a little strangled by the newly naked arm around her. She tried to pull his arm away a little by the red sash, but the arm just broke away and hugged her tighter. In this act of rebellion, it brushed under her hand, and she didn't take it away in time. But… nothing happened.

Maybe his arm was numb?

Maybe his arm was numb.

Hawke couldn't resist… She turned on her back. Fenris was very much asleep. His arm reacted to her movement and… grabbed her left breast, and he buried his head under her chin. She took in the visage of the skeletal markings on his hand, the red band, and the rest of the arm. The markings swirled around up and up, and he had three dots on his deltoid. The marking under it curved downwards, so it almost looked like a smiley face. He smiled a lot lately. It was weird. Like seeing a unicorn over and over again. She brushed her fingers softly up along his arm. Then she touched him in earnest, running her hand down. Maker, what a gift!

Mojo tilted his head at her.

"You don't get it," Hawke whispered. "You like being petted, yes?"

Mojo yawned and whimpered in agreement, his head going down on the blanket.

"Well imagine you couldn't get petted, because it always hurts."

Mojo looked extremely depressed. He moved his head away from her. It didn't seem to be enough. He moved it even more away, pondered on something way too greatly, then licked the elf's foot.

Fenris opened his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I never told you, but… I was born with a tongue on my foot."

He believed her for a second! So cute… Then he looked down. "Right… that tongue."

"He's getting really jealous of you."

"Good."

"Good?" she said, chuckling. Mojo was growling like no tomorrow.

"My apologies," he said to the dog. "I mean no disrespect. If you have grievances, take them up with her in the morning," he said, and turned his back on her. He made a shooing motion. "Away from my ears."

"Pff, rude," she said, looking at Mojo.

His hand raised and he pointed at himself. "If you wake this man for no reason, those are the consequences."

"Maybe you should take him for a walk tomorrow and bond."

She heard him sigh. "Alright, ma adorae."

Time passed, and she couldn't go to sleep. She kept staring at his back, the way the markings branched out of his spinal cord. She wanted to spoon him so badly, her hand made a fist on the mattress.

He looked so… fragile now. Like she could break him any second.

Then again, he could do the same. He knew her too well now.

But she trusted him more. This guy just wouldn't leave. Not until she said the words, 'I am okay'. He started to seem like a house husband. A gloomy, dour husband that haunted the house and brought her desserts and told her dead-pan jokes. But it wasn't always like that. He'd also be colourful and smiley and warm and he liked winding her up. Plus, he had become so vain about his looks, he was basically flirting with himself.

Good, she thought. Good for him. She wanted to make him feel bigger than he thought he was, see himself through her eyes a little. He used to be too passive, self-abusive, apathetic. All fear, no fun. It made you feel very small. And why wouldn't he? He used to have no medium through which to feel important.

Now asleep, he turned around. The arm strangled her torso again and his hair came buried into her neck. She felt crushed a little. It was nice. He was crushing her with his love. Of which he had plenty, apparently. She was so wrong.

Love is a verb, Fenris would probably say, very matter-of-factly.

I hate to say it, Hawke thought, but he may be right.

She turned her back on him, tried to get some sleep. She woke up again soon enough, because his body was just way too comfortable with her now. That damn hand would go places, pull on her hip, claw her trousers. That thing was stabbing her in the ass. It was so damn hard to contain herself. He was torturing her and he didn't even know it! And she was sure if she'd just let it all run wild and free, and he'd wake up to her kissing him passionately, they would just do it. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it. They would have had a great time just in the lazy sideways missionary.

But… it wasn't about her. Not in this situation. She wanted him to have the best first time. She wanted to give him fantastic memories, strong memories, unforgettable ones! She was competing with the tyranny of a lot of hurt, and she wasn't one to back down in the face of oppression!

So, she came up from her bed and started thinking…

Night time, The Fog Dream

Fenris woke up in a different part of the forest. It was sunnier, much less foggy. The two-headed rooster wasn't there. Instead, the parrots Fumo, Elvis and Lemon were sitting in a tree, talking shit.

You want to be a free bird?

It was like a choir of freedom sang in Tevene. He felt like he knew where he was supposed to go now. Just follow the Sun, until he was out of the fog.

You want to be a free lover? See—

But the growl of the monster followed him around, so he decided to take up to the trees.

You've got to run from the shepherd!

He swung from vine to vine, the birds following him around. It was natural unaduletered beauty, the giant canopies of trees. He felt one with nature, quick and wild, and free in a way he'd never been.

Run, run away with me!

But down below, he saw a black thing on his tail, bigger and faster than he was. It made the world go dark and foggy in its path.

Run, run away with mmmmm…

The voices distorted downwards. The next vine he jumped on sank him down along with the rest of the tree, and he fell down on the ground. He blinked, saw the two-headed rooster saunter away. He blinked again, and there was a long, long braided red tail in the middle of the path, cutting the fog. It led to a sunny light through the trees. He blinked again, tried to get up, and he heard the rooster squeal and a bush ruffling.

He could hear his own heartbeats, felt them in his bones. They were heavy and deep when they hit, and they shook the ground. More ominous than a semantron. Thud, thud-thud, thud!

Why was it so hard to get up? He felt one with the ground, old and tired. In so much pain… Like he used to when it got really bad.

Thud! Thud-Thud! Thud! Almost like the steps of a titan.

He blinked again, and out of the bush came a big black wolf with dark crimson eyes. He tried to crawl towards the red braid, but the Wolf was already looming over him with the deepest growl.

"Enough!" the Wolf said. It sounded like him, but in a much, much deeper voice, and like it knew no love.

Its eyes were agonising. He felt like his tongue was lodged up his nose. Before he knew it, the red braid rushed under the Wolf's legs, wrapped itself around Fenris's right wrist and pulled him away with incredible force.

It felt like madness. He flew up, hit trees, branches falling everywhere. The Wolf ran and jumped and destroyed everything in its path. It was fast, determined and angry. No more watching from afar. It had enough.

He looked up and tried to grab onto the braid, but it was too fast and volatile itself. It had no time to make him comfortable.

The Wolf caught up and bit down on his leg, and it fucking hurt. He kicked it with his leg until it let go.

"It never ends!" the Wolf growled after him. "On and on you go! You're beyond insane!"

"Fuck you!" Fenris shouted.

But his bravery only made the Wolf madder and faster. It bit on his leg again, pulled and pulled. It stepped on him. The braid was pulling and vibrating, but it was useless.

"Again, and again, and again, and again!" the Wolf growled loudly. It sounded like him, but there were other voices harmonising. Danarius's, Hadriana's… and some he didn't recognise. "You will never fucking stop!"

Fenris was trembling like mad, but hatred trumped fear. He spat on it.

"You're fit to learn the proper meaning of a beatdown, boy!" the Wolf said angrily.

"Why? Haven't I been punished enough?" Fenris said sternly, glowering up at it.

The Wolf laughed. "You have no business questioning the pain!"

"It's my bloody head! Not yours!" Fenris shouted.

"My, my… So self-important," the Wolf said mockingly. "Her influence, I imagine."

"Problem?" Fenris said sharply, sneering.

"Self-importance does not a good leader make," the Wolf said, one of the unfamiliar voices becoming louder.

"What do you even know about leadership? You're a lone wolf, hiding in the shadows."

That really insulted the Wolf. "What do you know about being a leader? You're just a sad little puppy."

"I know if you want to be a leader, you need to be involved. You need an alpha female to rule together over the pack."

That took the cake. The Wolf slapped him. "I don't need a female! I don't need anyone! I am the Patriarch! And unlike you, bleating child, I've been here since the beginning!"

Fenris's eyes doubled. "You're the Patriarch?"

The Wolf laughed at him. "Did you think it was you, little boy?"

"Alright. I'm not playing this game," Fenris cut him.

The Patriarch laughed a low laugh. "No… you prefer to play games where you pretend you're in charge. Pleasure in the small things." His snout came near. "But are you?"

"Oh, I will be," Fenris said, staring unyieldingly. "Very soon."

"We are a body. It is not just about you here. Every part has its role. You seek to change? Seek away. Be an insubordinate fool. Play your little pretend games. But you will fail. I will always be in charge here."

Fenris scoffed. "In charge of what? Making me miserable?"

"My role…" the Patriarch said in a deep professorial voice, coming near, "… is to clean up after each and every one of your many, many messes, little wolf."

"You're shit at your job," Fenris said flatly.

The Patriarch laughed. "You think you can do better, child?"

"Yes," Fenris said sharply.

The Patriarch laughed again, looking away. "Of course… nothing like wooing a maiden and doing a couple of good deeds to make you forget what a despicable worm you really are."

"I am not a worm," Fenris said with half-lidded eyes. "I am a fucking butterfly."

The braid started pulling him, but only by inches.

The Patriarch growled unhappily, coming right into his face. "You're turning into a pussy!"

Every man's worst nightmare. He felt the tired power behind those words, behind the many voices that said it. He saw it clear as day, hanging by a thread. Just… waiting to pulled.

Fenris grinned. "Fine. Lick me then. You might learn something other than pain."

What he had no business questioning was why that empowered the braid, because it fished him out from under the Patriarch in the next second.

The Patriarch ran after him. The parrots caught up and started ruffling their wings in his eyes. The wolf tripped and fell. Fenris was already flying away. He took advantage of the steadier course and grabbed onto the braid. He could see it coming out of the sunrise.

But in the next second, the world became so very dark. The Patriarch jumped out of the trees and time slowed down as he saw the wolf bite off the sunrise, and with it, the braid. Fenris flew into the Patriarch and let himself fall down around his neck. He climbed on top and strangled him with the remaining red braid.

The Patriarch whimpered and became agitated, and just when he thought he had him, he became smaller and smaller and reshaped himself in Fenris's image. A black silhouette with the same crimson eyes. Fenris fought him, using the braid as a flail.

"My, my... Look at her new and shiny champion," the Patriarch said, dodging his attack. "You are so very predictable." He drew his sword and went for the throat.

"Problem?" Fenris said curtly, ducking. He dodged again, and again, but the Patriarch was faster. The braid curled up into a shield and resisted the attack.

"Love is your resistance," the Patriarch said mockingly, running him in circles to get past the red shield. "Love unbecoming and undeserved."

"You're full of shit!" Fenris said crossly, blocking the slashes.

"I know full well what I say!" the Patriarch shouted. Fenris punched him with the shield and made him back away.

"No, no, no, no, no…" Fenris said condescendingly, raising his arm toward him. The braid around his wrist reshaped itself into a sword. "You're just desperate because we took away your champion."

If the Patriarch was in control, the theatre was his. He must have been behind all the night terrors. But with time, it became a theatre of resistance, the puppets no longer doing only what they were told.

"The Reaper was weak!" the Patriarch said sharply, his sword slamming into his. "Infatuated with meaning, obsessed with sadness! A passive moralist and a coward through and through! Good riddance!"

"I'm glad I took him off your hands then. It is unbecoming of a lone wolf to rely on others…" Fenris said, grinning. He let himself fall to his knee, the Patriarch slashing the air above him unbalanced. Fenris slid his braid sword along the shadow's precious manhood.

The Patriarch lost it. He turned around to him and, for three disturbing seconds, his head became that of a Qunari. The neck elongated fast towards Fenris's face and it shouted in an unfamiliar voice, "You're fit to learn the proper meaning of a beatdown, boy!"

It felt like an old, old fear was being pulled out of him. Older than Danarius threatening him with violence. It left him paralysed.

Before he knew it, the wolfheaded shadow people were around him, and he felt smaller and slower and he fell to the ground as they kicked him. The braid couldn't help him. He wasn't in control. And he didn't wake up. No one came to save him either. He just kept getting obliterated. A shadow took out his puppet arm and threw it along with the braid at the Patriarch.

Fenris blinked and blinked through the pain, and saw the Patriarch's legs looming over him. The crimson eyes.

"There's a reason every member of clan Hawke felt the need to threaten you, boy," the Patriarch said. Fenris's eyes doubled in fear. The Patriarch tilted his head. "Wakey wakey..."

He put the red braid in his mouth, and jumped away in wolf form.

Sunrise, The Hawke Estate

Hawke woke up to Fenris screaming. He screamed, "No!" and punched the mattress, and his hands went in his hair and he rocked a little.

Mojo came off the bed and barked at him.

Hawke snapped her fingers. "Sit," she commanded. "And shush."

Mojo growled, but did as she said.

"It's okay… it's over now," Hawke said, trying to pet his hair.

"Don't touch me," Fenris said in a low, threatening tone.

She sighed. She pulled on the blanket, grabbed it all and wrapped it around him. Then she hugged him.

"I'm not touching you," she said, rocking him from side to side.

He sighed. "That doesn't make as much of a difference as you think it does."

"No?" she said, stopping the rocking.

Fenris looked sideways. "Fine… It does…"

"Aha," Hawke said, smirking, and continued rocking him. "What happened, then?"

"I… couldn't explain it if I tried," Fenris said, staring at nothing in particular.

"Is everything alright?" her mother's voice came through the door.

"Oh, Andraste…" he said, burying his face in his hands.

"It's fine," she said, going towards the door. "This isn't her first night terror."

Noon, The Hawke Estate

There was a sturdy knock on the door. Fenris gestured for Bodhan to stay put. The door opened, and Cullen's fist dropped mid-knock.

"Yes…?" Fenris said, glowering with half-lidded eyes.

Thud. Thud-thud. Thud…

"Oh, err… good…" Cullen said, looking up at the sky, "… afternoon. Is your mistress home?"

"Try again," Fenris said with calm tones of threat.

"Is your uhm… is-is Lady Hawke home?" Cullen corrected himself.

"She will take a message," Fenris said.

Cullen sighed. "For the thousandth time, the Knight-Commander simply wishes to speak on friendly terms. There will be no fire and brimstone." He laughed nervously. "Believe me, you would see it coming if that were the case."

"Oh, I'm sure I would see it coming," Fenris said, raising a judgemental eyebrow.

Cullen cleared his throat. "I mean no disrespect. The Maker loves all his children."

"Some more than others," Fenris said flatly.

Cullen did not look prepared for a lecture. "I… uhm…" He scratched his head and fished out a letter. "A friendly invitation."

Fenris smiled. "Thank you. And a friendly—" He closed the door in his face.

Another problem had been arising in the Hawke residence. Two, in fact.

One was that Sandal kept wanting attention, and Hawke gave it to him. She didn't have her strength, but she had her mana. She'd play force-wave with him while Fenris tried to find a purpose in life. Walking the dog helped with thinking.

The other problem was that wherever he went, whatever he did, Fenris would somehow find himself falling, tripping, and/or hurting himself somehow. The chair he sat on had a fart cushion. The next chair he sat on had nails prickling out of it. The next chair he sat on broke outright. Hawke was pretty unhelpful and just found it amusing. Every cupboard he opened, something fell on him. Everything he stepped on was sharp. Every piece of cutlery fell apart when he used it. He was starting to feel like he destroyed everything he touched. The mirror in the bathroom was blurry and read, Leave! He was scared he was starting to see things, but Leandra and Bodahn were just as puzzled. Then the worst one happened in the evening, when he went to the basement to get more vegetables and they exploded right in his face and all over the room.

A few moments passed. Fenris gently slid mush off his eyebrow. "Sandal," he said.

Every time Hawke showed Fenris affection, Sandal would plot him a course to the Void. And why wouldn't he? Hawke loved Sandal, and would be very protective of him. She was like a mother to him, or maybe a potential wife. Either way, Fenris was an usurper and he had to be eliminated. Of course, Fenris couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't say anything, either. What would he even say? "She's mine, not yours!" What would be the point? That would have been childish. Sandal was harmless. Ish.

But then he thought… aren't I being an ableist prick for not considering him competition? So, in the spirit of equality, Fenris let his jealousy run free. He sat like a douchebag in the main hall, very much on purpose, watching Sandal go into the study. He looked at the water clock.

Boom!

Sandal came out of the study with cherries and ham on his face. He glowered directly at Fenris, as a piece of ham dropped to the ground.

Fenris smiled.

He was much smarter than people thought. Fenris respected him. Sandal just didn't care for long, drawn-out phrases, especially if they had nothing to do with enchantment. He was a quiet man. A man with a plan. A man with a fun world of his own. The world of enchantments. It was just the awesome thing that made him happy, and he had no time for society, unless they threatened his pack. Fenris decided he had things to learn from him.

"May I see your enchantments?" Fenris said to the boy.

Sandal's gloomy look immediately rose above. "Enchantment!"

So much happiness. So unpretentious and easy. He'd found himself a guru.

The wind blew more and more these days, offing the candle on the roof.

"Do you think it's wise to keep ignoring her?" Fenris said softly. He cuddled her from behind, locking his wrists together on her womb. He thought he did a pretty good job with Cullen, but… he was scared. He felt his pulse rising with each breath just thinking about it.

"No," Hawke said, sighing. "I used to think it was, but I'm not so certain now."

"There is no test for magic, is there? Other than violence, I mean."

"No," she said, looking down. She turned her head a little to look at him. "You know what Fereldans used to do to reveal witches?"

He shook his head.

"They used to drown them. If the body sank, they were innocent. If it floated, they were a mage, because the Maker's holy water would reject them."

Fenris laughed. "That makes no sense."

"They also used to examine their bodies for 'demonic marks', which meant any skin imperfection could have been a sign of being an 'abomination'."

"You know when someone's an abomination."

"Not always…" Hawke said, raising an eyebrow.

Anders, of course. Spirits didn't disfigure the body. They just… made you glow.

"Do you believe if Justice becomes Vengeance, he will start looking the part?"

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Fenris nodded thoughtfully. He didn't give a shit about Anders, but he had to. The mages in the Wings of Chaos were an abomination, a blood mage and a poor man's arcane warrior with a… "Dreamwalk Village". Even if he hit his head and held a flag up for mage rights, he was still right to be weary.

"Let me come with you," Fenris said.

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," Hawke said, smirking. "If she wants to see me so badly, she can come to me."

There was nothing much to do the next day, and Hawke was becoming restless. The handsome hero came back proudly from his mansion with the solution.

"Oh, boy…" Hawke said, coming up in bed and looking at his board.

"Come now," Fenris said, sitting down on the purple rug and setting up. "It will make time go faster."

"No… no it won't…" Hawke said, coming down.

Fenris squinted a little. "You had fun. I could tell."

"Could you? Remember this?" Hawke said, adopting a very fake excited tone and playing with her hair. "'Gosh, Fenris, I can't wait to play skirmish with you! It gets me so hot doing math problems for three hours with no storyline, roleplay or any kind of emotional reward!"

Fenris laughed. "The emotional reward is killing stuff."

"We kill stuff all day! Doesn't it get boring?"

"It does. It drives me to get creative about it."

"Fair enough, I suppose."

"Plus, you create stories for them and make them talk whether I like it or not."

"I have to."

"Would you like me to find a different board game?"

"Really? You would role play?"

Fenris grinned all of a sudden, tilting his head. "Don't I already?" he said with a flash of the eyebrow.

"Woof," Hawke said absent-mindedly.

The following days, Hawke started feeling better. She kept it in for one more day, just… because, then decided to tell him the good news by sliding off the handrail.

"Oh," Fenris said, with a kind of disappointment.

"But hey, that's good news. You can go recharge and stuff!"

"True…" His eyebrow went up, thinking. "Speaking of recharging…"

"I'm on my period."

"Oh."

Disappointment was running his life today.

"So… we'll revisit that soon," she said, brushing her hair.

"When?" he said quickly.

She chuckled. "I don't know. A week?"

"That's not fair. We'll be in Markham sharing a room with those two," he said unhappily.

She stopped the brush. "It's not… fair?" she said, squinting.

Fenris cleared his throat. "It's uhm… it comes from the Arcanum feron," he said, scratching his head and looking away, "which is… common tongue for 'Take all the time you need, ma adorae'."

"Aha," she said, smirking and brushing her hair.

But it wasn't over. They were having lunch before he left, and all of sudden, Fenris woke up saying, "What's a little blood, really?"

Hawke choked on her drink. "'What's a little blood, really?'" she said, looking up. "The big question every mage wrestles with their whole lives. The answer?" she said, raising her drink and winking. "It's never pretty."

Fenris grunted.

"So cute," she said, smirking and drinking.

Afternoon, Anders's Clinic

Hawke may have been all doom and gloom about her magic, but that was ungenerous to Anders. He'd taught her quite a few tricks. He had more patience than people gave him credit for. It was just hard to keep the nice face all day. Fenris was tiring. Hawke was exhausting.

"Huh," Anders said, watching her do a major spell. "Qamek-ed and still a force of nature."

"Thank you," Hawke said, hand under her chin.

"Now try it with the staff."

Hawke whined babyishly. "Do I have to?"

"If you want to save mana and land a spell accurately… yes."

"Maybe… if I'm really desperate."

"Why desperate? You could get a custom-made one that works as a blade."

"An excellent idea," Fenris's voice came from behind. He was leaning in the doorway.

"Did you just compliment Anders?" Hawke said, chuckling.

"Like a broken clock, he's right twice a day."

Anders seemed dizzy. "That's… the nicest thing you ever said about me."

"Don't hope for more."

Anders became less dizzy. "What are you doing here, anyway? Stalker, much?"

"What?" Hawke said, frowning.

"I am just walking the dog. Or… more accurately," Fenris said, trying to get out of Mojo's manic way, "the dog is walking me."

"Aww, did you miss me, boy?" Hawke said, petting Mojo.

"When doesn't he?" Fenris said timidly, smiling.

Anders looked like he really needed a nap, or a shot of tequila. "Soon, if it's anybody's guess. Except it will be the other way around."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Fenris said, glowering.

"Like? Have a ball? Somewhere in-between," Anders said, amused.

Hawke ignored them, because they were making no sense and Mojo was cuter. She continued to talk sappily on her knees and pet the dog, while the men above her started to really forget their place.

"Can she get a sword with a focus?" Fenris asked.

"A halberd would be better," Anders said.

"She's a melee tank. She needs a longsword."

"Well, sometimes she may need to stand back, but could still help from the back."

"You just want her at the back with you."

"I want her to be what she was made to be."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Hawke said, rising up with her palms apart. "Who do you two think you are? My uncles?"

"What?" Anders said, raising an eyebrow.

"Ew?" Fenris said, insulted.

"No one's deciding how I fight, what I fight with or what I am!" Hawke said, glaring unhappily.

"We were just brainstorming," Anders said innocently.

"You do what you want," Fenris said flatly.

"If you need downtime, you could still throw some magic from the back while you regain strength," Anders went on.

"And I can tank temporarily while you tether on me," Fenris said, strangely soft-spoken.

"Tether?" Anders said, frowning.

Fenris smirked, crossing his arms very slowly. "We have a… magical connection."

Anders cringed. "A what?" he said tiredly.

"Explain it to him, adorae," Fenris said calmly.

Hawke's eyes ping-ponged between them. What was happening? Something didn't feel right… It was like they shared some kind of subtlety she wasn't privy to. It was hard to miss, since their exchanges usually had nothing but pure and brutal honesty.

"We discovered a neat little trick in Antiva," Hawke explained. "We can form a two-way spirit tether where he gives me mana and I give him heals. Or… he potentiates mana regen. I don't know." She cast the tether on his markings, and he lit them up. A blue force coloured the tether, then a green one intermingled as she started to heal him.

"If we use it all the time, you may not need to stand back ever again," Fenris said.

Anders stopped mid-eye-roll and examined the tether carefully. "Doesn't that deplete your abilities?"

"Good point," Hawke said, thinking. "Maybe we should test for that."

But she was scared. She had to cast some sustained spells that took away all her mana, and she trembled throughout at the thought of accidentally sapping her life force. It was the fear that kept her back from using magic in general. But she wasn't alone. She cast a major spell, then another, then another. She didn't really breathe during this. The tether occasionally lost some colour, but it seemed to regenerate. Anders froze Fenris for a second.

"I can ghost fine, but I feel a little more vulnerable to magic," Fenris said.

"Ghost?" Anders said, snorting.

"Yes. Lyrium ghosting," Fenris said, raising an eyebrow.

"We called it phasing," Hawke said, amused.

"No…" Fenris said, thinking. "That doesn't have a ring to it."

"I agree. Ghosting around sounds exactly like you!" Anders said happily.

Fenris shrugged and flexed. "Ghosts… are sexy."

"Mhm!" Hawke said happily. "Haunt me later?"

"Anytime," Fenris said, flashing his eyebrows.

"So…" Anders said, rolling his eyes. "Self-sustaining lyrium. Where in the Void do you get that? What even is it?"

"I don't know. Ancient lyrium?" Fenris said.

"Well… goes with the hair, I guess," Anders said, smirking.

"Everything goes with this hair," Fenris said, brushing his bangs fastidiously.

Anders shook his head disapprovingly at Hawke. "What'd you do to him? His smugness went from ninety to a thousand."

"Oo, oo, teacher, me, me!" Isabela's voice came from behind. She had her hand raised.

"I'll get your usual," Anders said, sighing.

"Pff, presumptuous much?" Isabela said. "I just came to see what the heat was about!"

"Bitch, mind your business," Hawke said, chuckling.

"Can't," Isabela said, grinning. "I live for this shit. Also, I got you a new book for the club."

"What?" Fenris said, insulted.

"What?" Hawke said, confused.

"Nothing," Fenris said, looking away.

"Aww," Isabela said patronisingly. "Did the sad Tevinter think books were just 'their' thing?"

"Izzie, be nice," Hawke warned.

"No," Fenris said. "I'm just surprised you read."

"Oh, I read. I don't read boring shit like you, though."

"I read all sorts of interesting books. Everyone has their own escape from the Void."

Isabela squinted at him. "Aww," she said condescendingly. "Did you cry at the end with your big sad puppy eyes?"

"I'm missing something," Anders whispered to Hawke.

"Isabela and I have a smutty book club and Fenris read one of mine that she thinks is too cheesy," Hawke whispered back. This was a mistake.

"Ha. Simp," Anders whispered back happily.

"Hey," Hawke said, outraged.

"Sorry. I forgot you were… you," Anders said, clearing his throat.

"There were no puppy eyes," Fenris insisted.

"Aha," Isabela said, slyly pinching his red band. "And what's this?"

"Well…" Fenris said, stuttering. "Knights… wear their maidens' house colours."

"And their crests?" Isabela said, snorting and crossing her arms.

"So sappy," Anders agreed, crossing his arms.

"Hey, evil stepmother's daughters!" Hawke threatened, clapping. "Got a problem with romance?"

"Yes," Isabela said, scoffing.

"No," Anders said shyly, rubbing his arm.

Fenris shook his head smugly. "Haters."

"Yeah… you would know," Anders said tiredly.

"Problem?" Fenris said curtly, crossing his arms.

"It just doesn't make any sense," Anders said, shaking his head. "Why would you date a guy that hates your kind?" He looked at Fenris. "And you too, for that matter. If you hate mages so much, why do you date them? Is it some kind of power fantasy?"

"I'm actually not taking interviews right now…" Hawke said clownishly, pushing a finger into her cheek.

"Mind your own business, mage," Fenris said in cold tones of threat.

Isabela crossed her arms happily. "Oo, it's happening!" She pretended to sniff around. "Do you smell that, Mojo?" She sniffed Hawke. "It's a bitch in heat!"

"We were talking about Hawke, not you," Fenris said, rolling his eyes.

"True, but I'm not the one you're fighting over," Isabela said happily.

"Disappointed?" Fenris said smugly.

Hawke was disappointed. Her shoulders sank. How did Izzie see it and she didn't? That was the subtlety she was picking up. It was so obvious now.

And so pathetic.

"Please. I'm no masochist," Isabela said, chuckling.

"Good point…" Anders said, crossing his arms and putting a hand on his chin condescendingly. "Hawke… are you a masochist?"

"Oo, teacher, me!" Isabela said happily, raising her hand.

"I mean… a sadist mage-hater and a masochist mage… that borders on cliché, doesn't it?" Anders said.

"Oh, it's very cliché," Isabela agreed, grinning. "But it's always so, so delicious."

"What have I done with my life…" Hawke said tiredly, face-palming.

"A fine question," Fenris said calmly.

"I'll say," Anders said, laughing.

"Alright…" Hawke said, interlocking and cracking her fingers. "If Fenris is such a 'mage-hater' then why does he wear the heraldry of one?"

"Because his people skills render him almost entirely unemployable, barring dog fights," Anders said, smiling.

"Don't be an arse," Hawke threatened.

"I can never win," Fenris concluded.

"What's there to win? There's nothing to win here," Hawke said, frustrated.

But Fenris ignored her. "If you are such a social justice warrior, how come you enjoy comparing me to a dog and making fun of my 'un-slave-like' temperament?"

"Oh, please. You follow Hawke around like a lost puppy. It's an entirely accurate statement. I mean, it took you what? Three years to finally admit why? And as for the temperament, it was a backhanded compliment if anything."

Fenris started speaking slowly, which was never a good sign. "A backhanded compliment… is your ability to wake up every morning, safe and unharmed."

"Aren't you enjoying this?" Isabela whispered, amused.

"No," Hawke said, cringing at her.

This may have been the most painful social experience she ever had. Everyone was acting terrible. Fenris totally took the bait. This is what happened when Varric wasn't around to casually change the subject. He had a knack. Hawke had cack.

"Oh, well, I am," Isabela whispered, then said in a normal voice, "Oh, oh! what about how Broody makes fun of male robes even though he's such a 'feminist'?"

"What are you doing?" Hawke said angrily.

Isabela shrugged innocently.

"Alright. That's enough!" Hawke yelled, coming in-between them. "You're both in my life! You have to find a way to get along, or I'll give you both another problem!"

Anders and Fenris both scoffed.

Hawke grinned. The idea hit her right in the face and pulled on the corners of her mouth. "If you don't find a way to get along… then I will make you get along." They both frowned at her. "In my new smutty serial!"

"Ha!" Isabela said gleefully, holding her face.

"What?" Anders said, confused.

"No," Fenris said, slashing the air horizontally.

"Yes," Hawke said firmly. "I will write about Andro and Femmis, the ultimate forbidden love!" she said, tracing a finger on her lips. "Oh, they hate each other, but they just can't keep their hands off each other." Anders and Fenris looked at each other in pure disgust. "Complete political enemies. Oh, the ethical dilemma!" She made her voice all hot and sultry. "But how can morality compete with a big lyrium dick and a magic arse that won't quit?"

"I can't..." Isabela said, unable to breathe and sitting on the floor.

"Why do I have to be the bottom?" Anders said, outraged.

"If you have to ask… you're the bottom," Fenris said, crossing his arms.

"Ma! Mah…" Isabela said incoherently. She couldn't breathe.

"And as for you!" Hawke said, turning to Isabela. "If you keep adding fuel to the fire, I will write about Bella and Seburastes. How the Chantry boy heals the soulless thief with pure, sexless love."

"You wouldn't dare!" Isabela said, offended.

Hawke laughed at them all. "You bitches think you have me all figured out. Think again! I will bury you if you're not all friends by tomorrow!"

Sunset, Fenris's Mansion

Donnic and Fenris were playing Diamondback. Fenris was way too concentrated, and couldn't keep up with the banter.

"Everything alright?"

"It will be when I win."

But he didn't, and he didn't take it well. Donnic thought he should let him win next time. Not because he was kind, but because Fenris struck him as the kind of person that would become difficult to be around when they had a losing streak. Donnic didn't really care about winning. He just wanted to sit back and talk some crap.

"Did you talk to Lia?"

"Yes."

Boy, it was like pulling teeth. He let him win.

"Aha!" Fenris said, clapping once aggressively. He bit his lower lip and showed him both middle fingers.

"Woo," Donnic said, lazily feigning enthusiasm.

"How was your day?" Fenris said, softening his manner.

No one wanted to hear about his day. It was full of racist bullshit. This guy didn't need to hear it. Or maybe if he framed it correctly… "Tossed some racists in jail."

Fenris's sadistic eyes twinkled. "Good."

"I'm thinking of making a game of it to keep it entertaining."

"Racism Bingo. I play it with Merrill sometimes."

"Merrill's the mage, right?"

"The other mage," Fenris said, glowering. "I'm not speaking to her at the moment."

"Why are you saying it like that?" Donnic said, giving him a policeman stare.

"Like what?"

"Like she's the garbage that smells less bad than the other garbage."

"That's a little harsh."

"I know," Donnic said, tongue in his cheek.

Fenris sighed. "She's the… fairly odourless person that smells like a meadow compared to the other garbage."

"There it is again!" Donnic said, pointing at him.

Fenris's head fell down. "Is this how our friendship will work? You will just badger me every time to open up about my 'feelings'?"

"I'm just getting to know you," Donnic said, shrugging. He looked at his cards. "Seems like there's a lot to know about… and fill this painful silence with, possibly."

"I thought you liked quiet."

"I like talking quietly."

"Fine, I'll talk," Fenris said, raising his palm. "Because it's annoying when you talk."

Donnic quietly revelled in his victory.

Fenris sighed, fiddling with his cards. "I'm mad at Merrill. And Anders. And Isabela. And my brain. And Tabitha Ellerby."

Donnic raised his finger. "Who's Tabitha Eller—?"

"I'll get to her in a minute," Fenris cut him, coming forward in his seat.

Lists. He was a guy with lists.

"Merrill told everyone the other day I have 'sad puppy eyes'," Fenris said, incensed.

"Aww," Donnic said, chuckling.

Fenris was unhappy.

"And that bothers you?" Donnic said, confused and curious.

"Then Isabela milked that for what is was worth—"

"Oh, the story's not—"

"Then Anders said I 'follow Hawke like a lost puppy'," Fenris said with the biggest scowl.

Donnic waited for him to finish the story. But he didn't.

"And Tabitha Eller—"

"She's not really part of this."

"Man, you're killing me!"

"She's an author of hardcore smut that did a bait and switch into… hardcore fluff."

"And that's… bad?" Donnic said, confused.

"I don't know," Fenris whined curtly, looking away. "I don't really care about her."

He had bullet points he couldn't even get to.

Donnic rubbed his forehead tiredly. "So… puppies."

"I don't care about those either."

"You clearly do."

"I don't know," Fenris said, thinking. "They're alright. I wouldn't kick one if I saw one."

"Why would you kick a puppy?" Donnic said, outraged.

"I just said I wouldn't," Fenris said, opening his palms lazily.

"Okay," Donnic said, face-palming. "Why does that comparison bother you?"

Fenris was silent for a while. "It bothers me when those people make the comparison."

"Because…?"

"Because…" Fenris went silent again, staring into the fire. "There are multiple reasons."

Here comes the next list.

"My name, for one, means 'Little Wolf'," Fenris said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair dejectedly.

"Aww," Donnic said, which he immediately regretted. "Not aww."

"It's a condescending name," Fenris said sullenly. "I'm from Seheron. I'm a… was… a tamed wildling."

"Oh. That's sad…" Donnic said, thinking. "Why not change it?"

"I like it now," Fenris said, shrugging.

"But it's still a wound," Donnic insisted.

"I suppose," Fenris said, looking down.

He looked like a sad puppy now. He already kind of had sad eyes to begin with. Donnic was sad too. The comparison was almost unavoidable.

"He… also kept me on leash like a Qunari mage," Fenris said lowly. "A bit of irony and sass to his political enemies."

This was heartbreaking.

"Bruh…" Donnic said, uneducated and unprepared.

Fenris's head came up. "Bruh?"

"Yes. Three letters was all I could do. It's... It's a lot. I get it—"

"And it's as if I'm hearing—" Fenris went on, breathing a little unevenly as he scowled. He flailed his arms. "Look at him! Out of the leash and voluntarily running around after the mage everywhere she goes!"

"Wait. Which mage?" Donnic said, confused. "Merrill?"

Fenris was about to speak, but he contained himself.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Donnic said, realising how bad that night was for him, about a week ago.

"You will keep your revelations to yourself," Fenris threatened.

"Well, yeah," Donnic said, chuckling. "You think I'm not afraid?"

"I'm good at making people afraid."

"No, I meant Aveline."

"She's good too."

"Yeah…" Donnic said. It wasn't clear to him how much of that he found sexy and how much of it was just pure terror. 'Scared and turned on' was a mood. But that wasn't important now.

Fenris grimaced to himself and dangled a leg around.

"It's a struggle of meaning," Donnic concluded. "Between cute and pathetic."

"Exactly," Fenris said, cracking his neck. He played his card. "I'd like to think I've been staring pathetic in the rear-view mirror."

"You're not pathetic. What did you do that's pathetic?" Donnic said, outraged.

"I fell for it and got visibly mad?" Fenris offered.

"Alright. So, own it next time," Donnic said, shrugging. He played his card. A bad card. It felt like a 'big guy' kind of moment.

"Own what? My anger?" Fenris said, scoffing.

"No, the puppy thing. Just own it. They can't hurt what doesn't hurt you," Donnic explained.

"How can I own the concept of being like a puppy in front of everyone? That's pathetic."

"Is it?"

"Isn't it?"

"Alright," Donnic said, shifting in his seat and spreading his legs. "Call me a sad puppy."

Fenris frowned.

"Go on. Bring it," Donnic said with a beckoning gesture.

"You're a… sad puppy?" Fenris said, looking at him as if he was crazy.

"Like you want to hurt me. Come on. You're good at that," Donnic said, smirking.

Fenris sighed heavily and prepared the death glare. "You're a sad fucking puppy."

"And cute, and handsome," Donnic said nonchalantly, balancing a finger under his chin.

"Oh, I see," Fenris said, thinking. "Just… own it. Turn it around."

"Puppies are the best," Donnic said, moving some cards around. "I can't wait to get a dog."

"They're… a lot," Fenris said, chuckling to himself.

"But they're worth it," Donnic said, finger-pistolling.

Fenris's eyebrows twitched in unconvinced contentment. They went on playing silently.

"You don't think it's a little pathetic I fell in love with a mage?" Fenris eventually said, playing his card.

"Did magic had anything to do with your… fall?" Donnic said, raising an eyebrow.

Fenris laughed. "Not. At. All."

"Then I think it's a little poetic," Donnic said, playing his card.

Fenris smiled a little. It was bittersweet.

Sunset, Café Olé

Out on the terrace, in a purple twilight, the waiter came with their coffees. Isabela smoked while Hawke finished writing maniacally.

In a purple twilight, Andro finished healing the last beggar. Outside the Chantry, out in the cold, staring down a broken promise...

He saw Femmis approach the stairs, but something held the elf back. Was it another broken promise? The Chantry failed many. Mages, elves and the poor alike.

"Thank you, serah," the beggar said tiredly.

"Stay safe," Andro said, getting up.

He walked towards Femmis, who welcomed him with an arctic glare. "Mage," he said flatly.

Unfortunately for Andro, his empathy could only go so far. The finish line was when Femmis opened his gorgeous mouth. Femmis hated mages... Consequently, Andro wanted to put his dick in his mouth all day.

"Hehehehehe," Hawke cackled evilly, re-reading.

"Let me see," Isabela said, snatching the paper. Her eyebrows sloped upwards happily. "Boy, oh boy, do you paint a good picture!"

"And it will only go downhill from there, if they're not nice to each other."

"Congrats. You found the key to the most boring puzzle."

"Is it racist I took you to an Antivan café?" Hawke said, looking up from her coffee.

Isabela raised her eyebrow. "Well… I'm Rivaini… so… no?"

"Oh, right," Hawke said, staring inwards. "Shit. I guess I am racist."

"Everyone is. It's not a big deal," Isabela said, rolling her eyes.

"Oo, oo, save some of that motivational speech for the next rally!" Hawke said sarcastically.

"Do you often mistake your boyfriend for a Dalish, then?" Isabela said, winding her up.

"That would be very hard to do, considering he doesn't talk about elves almost at all," Hawke said, thinking. "Actually, he did say something about elves the other day. He said 'Elves are plucky that way'. Which is Fenris-speak for 'I fuck. Hard.'"

Isabela broke into laughter. "So cute."

"Yeah, he's super cute," Hawke said happily, remembering all the nice things. "But I'm worried sometimes I'll say stupid things because of my human bias. I absent-mindedly called him 'snuggle bunny' the other day, and he did not like that."

"Oof, girl," Isabela said, amused.

"I know. I need to wise up," Hawke said, sighing.

"It's a simple mistake," Isabela said, as if she were crazy.

"Is it?" Hawke insisted pensively.

"I will never understand why you bend over backwards for useless ideals," Isabela said, drinking her coffee.

"I like bending over backwards. It makes me feel alive," Hawke said, shrugging as she drank.

"I thought you'd be less in your head now that you bedded him," Isabela said. "What's the problem? Quick draw?"

Hawke swallowed, because she was an idiot.

"Oh-ho… I see," Isabela said, grinning and coming forward in her seat with glee. "He hasn't bent you over backwards."

"Period and stuff," Hawke said, shrugging.

"Didn't you get together weeks ago?" Isabela said, squinting.

"We're taking it slow, bitch."

"Ugh."

"Ish."

Isabela rolled her eyes. "Still."

"He needs time," Hawke said, thinking. "Well, he needed time. I think he's ready now. But now I'm not."

"Maker, you're exhausting," Isabela said, crossing her arms.

"I know, right?" Hawke said, chuckling. She put her cup down. "Basically, it occurred to me that since it'd be his first… uhm…"

"Yeah, we all got that. Long ago," Isabela said, rolling her eyes.

"I thought it should be special."

"First times are never special."

"Yeah, because usually we're clueless at the time. But I'm not. I know ways to a person's heart as well as their privates. Why not give a good time for some late bloomers out there?"

"Oh, Maker. You'll put on flowers, candles, all that crap."

"No, no. More than that. I will make it poetic," Hawke insisted, drawing her fingers away in the air.

Isabela put two fingers in her throat.

"I'll melt his heart…" Hawke said, leaning back in her chair confidently, "… and his trousers off."

"Can't wait to hear about it," Isabela said, drinking. "This century, yes?"

"Oh, I'm trying to be respectful of your bet," Hawke said, squinting and grinning. "So, you may hear about it, I don't know, never?"

"It's like you want me to be a peeping tom," Isabela said, chuckling.

"Get your freak on, girl," Hawke said, gesturing a washing of the hands.

Isabela scoffed. "Says the biggest freak of all."

"Mmm," Hawke said, tongue in her cheek. "I don't know if I'm the biggest. The most annoying? Yes."

"Aha," Isabela said, chin in hand. "Say, I can give up my stake in the bet, if you'll tell me what happens. It'd be useful to know what he likes when your relationship craps out."

"What's that now?" Hawke said chillingly, like a snowy volcano of held back rage.

Of course, Anders and Isabela and probably everyone else was thinking it. She just thought they would have the courtesy to keep it to themselves. Moreover, fuck this thirsty bitch. Did she forget her place?

"That's what I'm talking about," Isabela said, grinning and making air quotes. "Crazy."

"That's right," Hawke said, drinking.

Two and a quarter years ago, The Hanged Man

"Look at those pianist hands," Isabela said at the bar.

"Mhm," Fenris said, waiting for his drink.

"Do you like to play?" Isabela said, winking.

"I like to play Diamondback," Fenris said, taking his drink and going away.

Hawke was back from her six-month absence. Back in Kirkwall and back in charge. There was a lot of crap to catch up on. Like Fenris telling her how Isabela tried to get him into bed for half a year. Like Aveline suggesting he put in a sexual harassment complaint with Varric. Like Hawke herself discovering, to her dismay, that she found it way less funny than she thought she would have.

She watched the scene and decided be pro-active about it.

"Tsk, tsk, Isabela," Hawke said, hands on her hips. "After he already filed a sexual harassment complaint against you."

"It's off hours," Isabela said, shrugging.

Hawke got a drink, and leaned on the bar too. "You're on a zero hours contract. Would you like to get zero hours?"

"Oh, boy," Isabela said tiredly.

"I don't like my people getting harassed. It causes discord and drama. I don't have time for that," Hawke threatened.

"Please," Isabela said, not looking at her. "I know your game."

"My game is I don't like things getting in the way," Hawke said with a fake smile.

Isabela looked very disappointed. "You're a coward, Hawke."

"What?" Hawke said, chuckling.

"Instead of having it out like equals, you'd rather fall back on power dynamics like a little bitch," Isabela said, very hurt for some reason.

"Two women fighting over a man? Nah. Not in my story," Hawke said, grimacing.

"Maker, you're obsessed. You're actually crazy. Why do you have to politicise everything?" Isabela whined.

"Oh, I'm crazy," Hawke warned her.

Isabela chuckled to herself derisively. "You find whatever justification gives you the most comfort. At the end of the day, you will still be a fucking hypocrite."

Hawke looked at her, quite hurt too. She thought about it. "You're right. What am I doing? Let's just have it out."

Night time, Hightown Centre

"I'm so going to enjoy this," Isabela said, blowing on her daggers.

"I aim to please," Hawke said, smiling. She drew her sword.

Isabela threw a smoke bomb. Hawke took a right and ran out of it. She met Isabela's daggers, parried and kicked her spiky boot in the pirate's knee. Isabela backed away in the smoke to heal.

"I don't have all night," Hawke said, walking along.

Isabela came sliding on the ground through Hawke's legs and threw knives at her back. They nicked her arms and one stabbed her right in the buttock. "Ay, fuck me!" she shouted, taking the knife out and healing it outright. Isabela decided to fuck with her, and instead of going for the win, she went behind her and spanked her healing wound.

"Oh, that's it, you're a fucking bitch!" Hawke shouted. She force-waved Isabela's daggers away. "No more sharp objects. Just fists."

"Fine by me," Isabela said, throwing (most of) her knives away.

Hawke hit, Isabela blocked with her elbows. Then she tried to get her in the ribcage. Hawke grabbed and twisted her wrist. Isabela slashed the air into her clavicle, unbalanced her, got out of her grip and went behind her, locking her wrists.

"Check mate," Isabela whispered in her ear.

Hawke looked to her side and breathed with half-lidded eyes. Isabela's eyes flickered. Hawke kissed her furiously and got out of the lock. Isabela turned her around and put her tongue in her mouth. Hawke unbuckled her belt, took Isabela's hands and planted them in her trousers. Then she took out spare rope from her pocket and knotted her hands together. She pushed her, made her fall, got her legs together and tied her ankles. She sat on her, threw away the knives from her corset and said, "Oops."

"This what you're into then?" Isabela said, grinning.

"Winning? Yeah," Hawke said, winking.

A few moments passed.

"So… this isn't going anywhere?" Isabela said, shrugging.

"Ha. No," Hawke said, smiling.

"You are—"

Sunset, Café Olé

"—Crazy," Isabela said, raising her hand, then raising the other, "meets other crazy. You're meant for each other."

"Thank you!" Hawke said warmly. Then her disposition darkened. "So please stop egging them on. I'm not kidding. I will publish."

"Fine," Isabela said, rolling her eyes. "I don't get what the big deal is. It's just banter."

"Just piss off someone else's boyfriend."

"I piss off a lot of people and their boyfriends."

"I bet," Hawke said, staring at her with a crazy smile. "You won't want to piss off this one," she said, pointing at herself.

"You both take things way too seriously," Isabela said. "We bust on each other. It's what we do."

"Yeah… but it's not…" Hawke said, pursing her lips. "It's toxic. It's toxic banter."

"Here comes the word police."

"I am the law."

"You're not the anarchist you think you are."

"I am the anarchist you don't think I am."

"What?"

"Do you think I'm not the anarchist you don't think I am?"

"You're exhausting."

"As advertised."

Evening, Fenris's Mansion

"Would you like to see my flowers?" Fenris said suddenly, standing up.

"Uh… sure?" Donnic said, following him.

Fenris waved along the windowsill, much too lazily to make it look dramatic.

"Lovely flowers," Donnic said, smelling them.

"Mhm," Fenris said.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Mega—…the yellow ones look sickly."

"Mega what?"

Fenris sighed. "I named it Megara."

"You named all of them," Donnic said with an evil smile.

"It's easier to keep track," Fenris said, shrugging.

Donnic shook his head in amusement. He picked up the pot, inspecting it. "Black-eyed susans."

"Rudbeckias," Fenris said.

"Whatever," Donnic said, looking under it. He picked up his knife. "You just need to poke some holes under it so the root doesn't rot."

"Ah," Fenris said with a kind of sadness. "Thank you."

"No worries," Donnic said, putting the flowerpot back. "So, which ones are your favourite?"

Fenris froze a little. "There are no favourites."

"It's not like they can hear you," Donnic said, chuckling.

"I don't know." Fenris touched them one by one. "I suppose this one," he said to the violets.

"Ah," Donnic said a little dejectedly, leaning on the window and crossing a leg over. "Loyalty."

"What?" Fenris said, frowning.

"Violets symbolise loyalty."

"Why did you say it like that?"

"Oh, how the tables have turned!"

Fenris raised a patient eyebrow.

"It's no news. I got cheated on," Donnic said, crossing his arms.

"I'm sorry," Fenris said.

"Eh," Donnic said, looking down. "I can't say I was entirely blameless."

"Who cares? Cheating is cheating. There is no excuse," Fenris said.

"It matters why she felt the need to do that," Donnic said, thinking. "I didn't always listen. I was doubtful. I didn't want to move out of the barracks."

"Why not?" Fenris said.

"Commitment issues?" Donnic offered. He thought about it. "She had this… friend."

Fenris's eyebrow lifted much too slowly.

"They had a little thing, before me, but it never went anywhere. But they stayed friends. And I was like… I'm a feminist. I won't tell her who to be friends with. But it bothered me."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Donnic rubbed his neck. "He'd just… find ways to push my buttons. Call me the wrong name, send me on errands, ever so subtly throw his history with her in my face. I kept it in, but I'd lose it sometimes in unrelated arguments. I got petty and jealous. Then she'd run to him for comfort."

"And you just let her do that to you over and over again?"

"Friendly comfort," Donnic corrected. He looked out the window. "But yeah, eventually."

"Rock…" Fenris said, illustrating. "Hard place."

"Yeah…" Donnic said, thinking. "But it's my fault too. I basically drove her to him."

"No, it isn't," Fenris insisted.

"Why not?"

"Because it was her choice to betray you."

"I don't know how much strength that word holds in situations like these…" Donnic said, crossing his arms. He thought for a while. "If I learned anything in my line of work, it's that people do all sorts of things they would never ever do in their right mind. And love… love makes you do the stupidest things of all."

"It does make you irrational," Fenris agreed.

"Some of it may have been choice. Some of it was clearly hurt," Donnic said. "I just focused on the wrong thing. Him."

Fenris grimaced, looking out the window. "You had to be vigilant."

"I was already with her. She chose me! It was just… pettiness. Pettiness and insecurity."

"He gave you reason to feel worried."

"Yes. He did. Not her."

Fenris pursed his lips and looked away. "You're right. You were pathetic."

"Ouch," Donnic said with a coy smile. "How about just a little pathetic?"

"Just a little pathetic," Fenris said, smiling a little. He touched a flower gently, thinking. "It is also a little poetic that you are now with the most jealous woman in the Free Marches."

He was wrong.

Donnic laughed nervously. "Really…?"

"Probably," Fenris said, amused. "If she's half as protective of her lovers as she is her friends, you would do well not to worry her."

"Oh, she worries me," Donnic said, laughing.

Fenris frowned. Aveline?

"Not in that way. I'm worried she will consume herself one day. She's got so much anger."

"I know. I… feel for her."

"It's a silly worry," Donnic said, pursing his lips in a smile. "You both have people around to keep your head above water."

"Isn't that kind of selfish?"

"Only if you don't reciprocate."

"Hm. Good point."

Fenris crossed his arms and stared out the window for a while. People were going home, dogs barked, the two moons shined above and crickets prepared for the cold season.

"Do you have a best friend, Donnic?"

"A best friend? Err… I'm pretty close with Brennan, but… I wouldn't call her my best friend."

"Would you like one?"

Donnic chuckled. "Why? Are you offering?"

"I do not have the answers, Donnic. I only have good questions," Fenris said, just a ghost of a smile.

He was seducing him. Slowly. With flowers. He knew his hobby now. Bro! He was bro-ducing him.

What the hell? Donnic thought.

The "choir in Tevene" is from Monkey Tree by Mother Mother. In opposition, The Patriarch vibe is inspired by No Love by Death Grips.