TW: racism

Sunset, Fenris's Mansion

It was chillier than expected, despite the purpling sky. Hawke was starting to regret her choice of clothing. She decided to wear a white shirt with a black v-neck closed cardigan and a black skirt above the knee. She did not forget her choker nor her stompy boots, and she had just discovered fluffy socks. She was invested now. She waited for the young guardsman to finish lighting the torches, then knocked in her usual manner at Fenris's door. Two consecutive knocks, then one with both knuckles, in a loop.

"Who is it…?" the door said gentlemanly.

"Your doom. Obviously," Hawke said sarcastically.

There was a silence.

"Come on, open up."

"I'm not opening up. Who opens the door to their doom?"

Hawke chuckled. She knocked again. "Serah, do you have a spare minute to talk about Andraste?"

"Mmm. I'm currently in-between opinions on mages, thank you very much."

"A perfect time for a good old spirited debate!"

There was another silence.

"Want to hear a knock-knock joke?" the door said.

She looked around the fairly empty, well-lit district. "Okay?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Knock-knock."

"Who's there?"

"Spell."

He was going to make a bad magic joke, wasn't he?

"Spell who?"

"W… H… O…" the door said, very dead-pan.

Hawke rubbed two fingers along her forehead, her abdomen contracting so the laugh wouldn't dare come out.

"Coincidentally also the magic letters that make Hawke shiver and quiver," the door said in a deep voice.

"Sorry, door. Sexy voice aside, I have a boyfriend."

"Forget about him," the door said. "I have a sexy voice and wood for days."

"Yeaaah," she said, drawing the word out. "So does he."

"Does he? You must be bored by now. Perhaps you are in need of some… extra wood?"

"Maker, no!" she said, laughing and holding her temples.

Fenris opened the door, trying not to smile. He still had that new black vest with the turquoise piping, and, interestingly, a long cardigan; black, ribbed, with a loose belt. It was oddly calming to look at. A gush of wind filled her nostrils with a sweet and musky fragrance. He rested his head over his red-banded wrist, along the edge of the door. "Ha. You laughed. I win," he said flatly.

"Because it was all so bad!" Hawke cried, her palms like planks flying forth from her temples.

Fenris smiled, very proud of himself. He was annoying her correctly.

Well, at least he was being whimsical about magic. That was definitely a surprise.

"Also, I'm not sure you can shiver and quiver at the same time…" she said, crossing her arms and shifting her weight on one leg. "Aren't they the same thing?

His eyes fell down on her outfit, his eyebrow rising slowly. "It all depends on how hard I work at it. My shivering may, indeed, cause some quivering," he said in a deep voice, his eyes coming back to hers.

"Woof," she said, biting her lip, her eyes sledging down on his physique. "Shall we go, then?"

"Mm-mm," he said, grinning. When he beckoned to her slowly, there was a stirring in her loins she could almost hear.

"I have reservations in like, five minutes."

"Being late is a sign of status. Come here."

Oh, I'm too important for time. I almost forgot about coming entirely! I woke up like this, too. Hair flip. She could see it now.

She came in, and he took her hand and she followed him round the door, a little confused. He pushed her against the wall, crushed into her, held her waist, kissed her hungrily. She was filled with love for him suddenly. His scent was honeying, maddening.

"Ow, ow, ow—" she cried, feeling the contents of her small rucksack stabbing her in the back.

He raised his hands away. "What did I—"

"No, it's just my backpack. I've got like a rock and a sling, a buckler, a dagger and a joke wand that," she said, chuckling, "funny story, is actually a rea—"

"Take it off. Now," Fenris ordered.

Hawke looked at him. The door… remained open. The sounds of passers-by were… intriguing. She wasn't much for acquiescing early, but this was one of those times when curiosity came out on top. The old 'What happens if I do this?' urge. She almost pulled up on her cardigan, forgetting what she was supposed to remove. She took off her backpack without taking her eyes away from him, letting it fall to the floor.

"Good Hawke," Fenris said. He went in and kissed her like the Orlesians. His trousers knocked on her skirt door. Oh boy. The way he said that. Something about it made her legs shiver and quiver.

The name 'Hawke' was on too many people's lips lately, and she started to feel like it became something else than her, bigger, on the outside, this whole persona. First a difficult woman causing discord, an enemy of the Chantry, then this big shot hero that saved Lowtown. It was unnerving; also tempting. She could feel the power trying to get to her head! It was a dangerous game. She was starting to feel unstoppable.

But nuh-uh, not him. He put 'Hawke' in her place, with her feet on the ground and her toes curling. Yes, Fenris. She was burning all over.

His hands clawed her arse. Above, and now under the skirt, bringing her closer into him. He was slowly unbuttoning part of her cardigan, part of her shirt. He broke the kiss. He had deceptively calm, intense eyes, his lower lip very kissable, his face masculine and firm. She felt his warm hands on her chest, reaching inside the black bra. She was dying. He was right. She will have been so fucking pent up by the end of it. Another few people passed by, tittering, chit-chatting. Now he was biting her lip and playing with her nipples. Andraste, just kill her now. She was flushed.

"Hm," he said, grinning, forehead into hers. He kissed her one more time, then slowly took his lips away. It hurt. He started buttoning her back up, primly, unhurriedly. Fucker!

"Now…" he said calmly, looking up at her as he finished the last button, "… we can go." He went down and picked up her backpack and put it around his shoulder, going outside.

She looked up at the ceiling. "Wow," she mouthed, then followed him outside.

Evening, Café Touché

"How did it I not… notice this before?" Fenris said at the table, looking down through the rooftop terrace railing at Café Olé right across.

"They have some kind of old feud. Been there before?" Hawke asked, playing with the flower-shaped candle.

"Yes…" he said grumpily. "With the ma—" He closed his eyes, groaning quietly. "Anders."

She smiled an annoying toothy smile.

"You owe me… so hard," he said, squinting and shaking his head.

"I don't owe you shit," she said, laughing. "It's called friendly coercion."

She did owe him. He stayed much longer than she thought he would. But all in good time.

"Or… coercion," he said flatly, shrugging.

She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, shrugging innocently. It was absolutely coercion, and it was necessary. She wasn't going to take another day of them bitching at each other. The world had enough.

"You don't get to do that again. For at least a year."

"Deal. I shall use my once-a-year compulsion wisely."

He smirked, and reached across for her hair. He brushed down a little, and let it fall languidly. "You heard her, hair of years."

"And I it," she said. She squinted. "Sometimes… if I'm quiet… I can just hear it… growing."

"That… doesn't surprise me at all," he said, chuckling and shaking his head. He looked away. He looked… everywhere. He wasn't stopping. His upright body was tense.

"You okay?" she said, folding her hands and resting her elbows on the table.

"I'm fine," he said abruptly, looking back at her. He looked down, then back up. "I'm just hungry."

"It will come soon enough, I'm sure."

But she didn't believe him. He was scanning the place. He'd already done it when they sat down. That one was learned instinct. Common among military, para-military, guard and apostate types. You had to know everything in the space around you, and imagine how each person may come at you in attack. Plan your defence. Always be on the defence. It was a curse. It made you eternally paranoid and anxious. But the second time was different. Lacking in subtlety. He was an elven man, on a date with a human woman, in Hightown. He was the impostor in the hoi polloi of human poise.

He was playing 'Guess the Racist'.

"Five o'clock—baldy with the goatee," Hawke said. She looked to her left. "Two o'clock— flowery hat lady."

"I noticed," Fenris said, folding his hands in front of his lips. "Also, seven o'clock—boy with horse toy."

"You're counting kids, too?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged. "Children are the worst, right?"

She shrugged, playing with the candle. "Beats me." A sliver of bitterness in her voice.

"We will find out soon enough, I'm sure," he said, adjusting a fork on the table.

This 'we' was as heart-warming as it was terrifying. How was he not running for the hills? She was about to, just imagining it. It was nice to imagine it as a concept, but not literally three days from now or something. She could feel the choker digging into her skin.

"Aww. Look at you still making up crap for me," she joked.

"You cannot think that way," he said disapprovingly. "You will end up drowning."

"I know. It's just… habit. A little dark humour helps," she said, shrugging.

He looked down, raising an eyebrow. "Allegedly so."

"Allegedly so?"

"Nothing, just…" Fenris said softly, rubbing his neck. Another quick glance around. "I learned some things about myself today I'm not… particularly proud of."

"And what's that?"

"It doesn't matter. Let's not spoil the evening."

Hawke narrowed her eyes. "I'm not gonna be all nice and fake because it's a date. We're real with each other. That's what I like about us."

"I'm not saying 'Let's be nice and fake'. Merely that I'd rather talk about something else."

"Alright. Tell me about your fun day of fun with your new best bud."

He closed his eyes. "I walked right into that one…"

She shrugged, huffing.

"Haven't I said enough?"

"What? You said 'Comedy', then fell asleep," she said, laughing.

"Sounds like a reasonable amount of words to me," he said grumpily.

"No!" she said, laughing. "Please elaborate, Fen Fen."

"Well," he said, looking away and smirking. "How can I say no when you ask so nicely?"

"I can be so very nice, given the right circumstances," she said, grinning. "I'm a real nice girl."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, you're not. You're scary nice. With a honey, deadly smile."

"I sound like a dream," she said confidently, shrugging.

"It is nice," he said softly, grinning a little as he looked down. "When you can dream without falling asleep," he said, looking up at her with half-lidded eyes.

"Boy, just tell me your dreams, and I'll make them a reality," she said, leaning back.

He scoffed, grinning and brushing along his lower lip. A sharp flash of teeth. "Girl, you may regret that."

"Boy, try me," she said, winking. "Later. Make a list," she said, coming forward in her seat and playing with the candle. "Now tell me about yesterday."

"Girl… ugh," he said, his head falling back. "Fine. We had gelato across the street."

"Aww."

"Definitely too much to drink."

"Mojo did a good job?"

"A fine job."

Someone finally came with their drinks, at least.

"What'd you talk about?"

"I don't remember…." Fenris said, scratching his shoulder, thinking. "Women?" he said, frowning to himself.

Nothing like Hawke's cosmic frown.

"No… he brought up women, then quickly turned it around on men," he corrected himself with a little smile.

She gasped as he drank. "You put your heads together and you're ready to revolutionise masculinity!"

"No," he said, chuckling. "We just… talked shit," he said, putting the drink down. "I think the conclusion was that we're 'not like other boys', and that it's actually a good thing?"

"Andraste, I loathe that I wasn't there to write a transcript," she said, laughing. "What else?"

"I don't know," he said, rubbing his eye. "At one point he was prodding me about my relationship with you."

"Yeah, I never hear the end of that," she said, rolling her eyes.

He pursed his lips in annoyance, shaking his head. "It's not his bloody business."

"Nope," she said, looking sideways. "But I'll say this—he certainly has a comical imagination."

He raised an eyebrow.

"He thinks we're roleplaying BDSM shit where you're a witch hunter and I'm the naughty apostate or something."

He started laughing heartily, looking away. "Pa-thetic."

"I take it that will not be on your dream list."

"Why would that be on my dream list?"

"I don't know," she said, chuckling nervously. "A lot of people found that oddly plausible, actually."

"This may come as a shock to everyone," he said sarcastically, his palms sloping upwards, "but the subject of magic does not get my rocks off."

"I don't know. Aren't I a sexy Tevinter witch in your dreams?"

"In my nightmares, first of all," he said firmly, raising a finger. "Second of all, that's a joke. You get how that's a joke, right?" he said, a little worry in his voice. "First the charlatan magician, because you were an absolute clown playing shitty card tricks instead of using your powers, then the… 'witchy' witch, because you're… I don't know. Nothing like that? Even as you're 're-training' under the peak 'mage-y mage'."

He was worried alright, when he started speaking in paragraphs.

"It is peak Fenris sarcasm," Hawke admitted tiredly.

He looked strangely proud of himself. Then, suddenly, he narrowed his eyes. "That's not… in your dream list, is it?"

She fell back against her chair, holding her chin. "Playing out my darkest timeline for kicks… Hmm… I'm gonna go with… no."

"Good. I am not going to make you kneel and recite the Chant of Light," he said, rolling his eyes, grimacing in disgust.

She shook her head with her eyes closed, her chin disappearing into her neck.

"You can make me kneel for a good reason," she said with a playful eyebrow.

"What would constitute a good reason?" he said, chuckling nervously.

"I don't know," she said, raising her arms in an exaggerated shrug. "Maybe I played a prank on you and you need to teach me a lesson."

"Have you?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Someone finally came with the food.

"Nope…" she said quietly, looking down and adjusting a spoon on her table.

Plant away, little demon! a naughty voice inside her approved. You're the harvester of happiness! Get him bursting with seed.

She was biting on the inside of her lips, trying not to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Fenris said. He was rearranging his food, separating the carrots from the peas from the potatoes. He thought she found it amusing.

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking about you and Anders," Hawke said, suppressing more chuckles.

You should totally still finish that piece, the naughty voice said. Stick it on a wall. Frame it. Hold it over their heads forever! They will rue the day they step out of line and strangle each other!

You're drunk with power. Go home, she thought. But… not your worst idea.

"Ugh, we're still on that?" Fenris whined.

"Hey, there's a lot of time between gelato at Olé and two in the bloody morning."

"Keep dreaming. I will never remember the whole night."

"Did I ask for what you don't remember?"

He rolled his eyes. They shook as they rolled upwards into his head. He had about a thousand ways he rolled his eyes that each meant something different. This was one meant: Kill me.

"He was all whiny and sad that no one loved him, so I offered to—"

"Love him unconditionally. Pack his lunch? Mend his clothes? Oo, oo! Stroke his hair!" she guessed ecstatically, trembling with supressed laughter.

He rolled his eyes, barely open. Only the whites were visible. This one meant: I will fucking flip this table, I swear.

She was laughing too hard, bending forward, and her hair went in her food.

"You are so incredibly irritating," Fenris said, folding his hands under his chin.

"I know," Hawke said, still chuckling uncontrollably, trying to get the food out of her hair. "I must be stopped."

"Everyone will thank me," Fenris said, smiling, very sure of himself.

"I invite you try, my liege," Hawke said, raising her arms widely.

Fenris cracked his neck loudly. "It is not a matter of try, but of when."

Hawke ate, shrugging nonchalantly. "The answer? Not now. Now I just get to be incredibly annoying." She drank. "For Maker knows how many days," she said, abruptly smiling with all her teeth.

He broke into laughter, forehead in his hand. "You have… a million things in your teeth."

"Oh," she said, chuckling, covering her mouth.

"Oh, now she's shy."

"I'm on a date. I'm supposed to be sexy. Leave me alone."

"I could never leave you alone. Not with those sexy spinach teeth."

"Shut up!" she said, laughing. "Now go on. You offered to…?"

Fenris sighed. "To be his wingman."

Hawke bumped her fist on the table, the cutlery clinking. She bowed her head, holding it all in. She looked up, inhaling calmly. "Continue…"

"So I took him to that bar with the Brobdingnagian portrait and pretended to be blah."

"You pretended to be blah?" she said, laughing. "Wait, no. Wrong inflection. You pretended to be blah?"

"Shut up," Fenris said in deep voice. "I'm charming."

"Yes. Yes, you are," Hawke said, smiling and winking. Sometimes down near overwhelming, when he wanted to be. But she found him charming from the beginning, even as many found him blah. He was all, I say what I want. I say exactly what I mean. I never just say anything. Add an air of detached masculinity and she was flying. It was also the way he occupied space. He didn't like taking up a lot of space, but his space was his. Call it composure and defensiveness, but there was a pride in his posture too, because it meant something to him, to have that kind of command over his own space, his own words, his own person. She really admired that.

He smiled, then went on. "After some failed attempts, he struck a conversation with a Fereldan human who reached as far as my bloody belly button."

"Hey, no hate on the shorties! What did they ever do to you?"

"Of course not," he said, smirking. "I could never hate you."

She glowered at him.

He was laughing.

"You know what," she said out loud, raising her palms. "I am rising above this. I'm going to embrace this."

"Oh, come on, don't embrace it. I'm not done making fun of you," he said, crossing his arms and chuckling.

"Continue to do so. You will only waste your time."

"Okay, Smalls."

She held her chin up dramatically, looking away, as if it didn't affect her. He didn't continue the teasing, however, so she looked back, and he was rubbing his forehead. Affected by something.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

Hawke sighed. "You say that a lot."

"Because you ask a lot."

"Okay," she said, raising her palms again. "Keep it inside. Drop it in the abyss. You'll be fine. What do I know?"

"It's just bloody nonsense deja-vu's making me dizzy," he said tersely, raising his voice. He avoided her gaze suddenly. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"I'm sorry, I—"

"I'm not like you," he went on, looking everywhere but at her. "I need time to process things. I'll talk about it when I talk about it."

"Okay," she said calmly, looking away. "Sorry for pushing you."

"It's… fi—It's alright," he said, correcting himself. He sighed and his head turned to her. "You do it because you care."

"Well, yeah," she said softly, looking back at him. "You worry me sometimes. You say you're 'fine' when you're not fine. I don't know what you're thinking. So, I don't know how to fix it."

"How about don't try to fix it?" he said, raising an eyebrow. He rested an arm along the table and leaned back in his chair, crossing a leg over his knee. He was challenging her.

"Don't… try to fix it…?" she said, squinting hard, because that literally made no sense to her. "No…" she said, drawing the word out and crossing her arms. "I don't know how to do that."

"Because you don't know how to fix yourself, so you compulsively try to fix everyone else's problems."

A few seconds of painful self-awareness washed over Hawke. "Well, shit. I just got read like a book."

"I know you." Fenris shook his head, thinking. "You do not need to fix me," he said, crossing his arms.

"I don't want to fix you. I lo—" she said, stopping herself, because that was a terrible idea. She brushed her hair. "I don't see you as someone to be fixed. I adore you just the way you are," she said, touching her chest. For a moment, there was a warm sadness in his eyes. "I just… want to help. Make you feel better. Make you feel good."

Fenris looked up and brushed his chin with exaggerated slowness. "You know what would make me feel exquisite?"

"Not trying to fix every—"

"Exactly," he said, smiling.

"Alright," she said with coy smile. "I'll try."

He nodded. "That's all I ask." He finally ceased his defensive posture and went back to his food. "What have you been doing today?"

"Gathering evidence, and allies," she said, eating. "I've got Saemus now. I'm going to win that case like a motherfucker."

"Good," Fenris said, brooding. He didn't sound completely sure of himself. "Are you sure this won't be a case where you win the battle but cause a war?"

"What war?" Hawke said, scoffing. "I'm playing by the book. I'm untouchable. Unless they want to cause an act that even the Loyalists would consider downright tyranny."

"If you win, you will gather more support, and may become an agitator on a large scale," he said. There was no approval or disapproval in his voice. "You will become entirely preoccupied with changing the Chantry and forget about your other work." And possibly, me, his eyes said for a second.

"That is a little paranoid, don't you think?" she said defensively, chuckling.

"Is it?" he said calmly, confidently.

"It is, actually," she said, drinking. She put the glass down. "Firstly, I don't play the Game for kicks. In fact, I think it's a stupid game and it makes me want to shoot a fucking arrow through my head. Second of all, I have quite a few priorities, and most of them are entirely centred on Kirkwall. If the world wants to take us as an example of good practice one day, good. I'm not interested in saving the world. I'm just doing my part. Thirdly…" she said softly, looking down, thinking. She looked up at him. "I'm doing this for my kid, whom I want to have a real relationship with. A real life with. I just want to live in a place where I don't panic and scream in my head every day."

The first argument made sense to him, but the third really resonated with him. He was nodding to himself. "You want to convert Kirkwall to Lothering," he said perceptively.

"Not entirely, but yes. Better than that! Lothering worked. I had a good life there," she said softly. "Every child deserves the Lothering experience; and more."

He exhaled, bowing his head. "Fair enough."

"How'd it go with Ramsey?"

"Oh," Fenris said, chuckling. He stopped eating and drank. "I got fat," he said, putting the glass down.

She looked at his fit, slender body, her eyebrow reaching for the heavens. She could feel the collective urge of the world to slap him.

"I gained a little weight," he corrected himself.

Her eyebrow fell down calmly. "That's better," she said. "Hooray!... Question mark?"

"It's good. I'm at a normal weight now," he said, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

"Your arse has become grabbable," she said, eating and winking. "I like that."

"Thank you," he said, chuckling. He cleared his throat. "I think."

"Can I see the outfit when it's done? I have some things to do to and/or on you before the party," she said, winking again.

He found this very amusing for some reason. "No. It's bad luck to see the birthday boy before the party."

"Oh, come on, I've always wanted to be with a twenty-nine-year-old," she teased, brushing her leg on his. "You do realise you've got like… a week and a bit left. This is your last chance to give your flower in your twenties!"

"My flower?" he said, laughing and leaning back.

"Your… tree bark?" she said, laughing.

"My tree bark is long gone," he said, sighing tiredly.

"That doesn't count."

"Well, who knows? Maybe it's long, long gone."

"You are trying everything under the sun not to make a big deal out of it," she said, chuckling.

"Am I?" he said a little dramatically, touching his chest. "Why don't you sue me?"

"Funny," Hawke said sarcastically, smirking. "You do what you want, Fen Fen." In the meantime, she had been busy trying to remove her foot from her boot without giving it away. "But I foresee the last days of your twenties being very, very hard."

"Very, very hard?" Fenris said, grinning. "How so?"

His green eyes tripled suddenly, and he became very rigid.

"Like so," she said, smirking evilly.

"Oh… my… Maker…" he said, not moving, except for his eyes, that were going round the place.

"Relax. It's a long tablecloth," she said, grinning. "How's that?"

He suppressed a groan. "Confusing."

"I don't know, Fen Fen," she said innocently, tilting her head. "I think you like confusing."

"I like—" He closed his eyes for two seconds, his mask cracking a little. "I like confusing you."

"Tomato, toh-mah-toh," she said, shrugging, continuing her game under the table.

He was enjoying it. It was undeniable. It was like a challenge built especially for him. He had nerves of steel. They needed to be tested once in a while. It wasn't just cracking him up with laughs that was exciting.

He beckoned for her hand, and pierced her with a dark glare. "We are coming here again when you're all ready. You will reserve that table in the corner with the bench," he said, signalling with his head behind her.

Oh… kay!

"Yes, Fenris," she said, grinning, interlocking her fingers in his.

His exquisite grin only got darker. He liked that.

"This is hardly appropriate," someone said suddenly next to their table. She didn't even see them coming. It was Baldy McGoatee. They both became poker-faced and her foot quickly, with some hit and miss, went inside her boot.

"Can I help you?" Fenris said flatly.

"There are children here," Serah Baldy McGoatee said, crossing his arms.

Hawke's eyes doubled. Holy shit, did they just traumatise some kids for life?

"I understand you are of a 'younger generation', but I invite you to have a good hard think on the nature of the message you are sending to the next one," the noble said scoldingly, crossing his arms.

"Oh, right. The message. Of course," Fenris said passive aggressively.

But the noble wasn't speaking to him. He was speaking to her. "You are essentially teaching children it's appropriate to mix with the help. Next thing we know, we've got an epidemic of chimeric races infecting our bloodlines."

"I'm sorry, chimeric races?" Hawke said abruptly.

"Half-breeds. Half-elves, half-dwarves, Maker forbid, half-Qunari—"

"Why don't you go back to your table of purebloods, serah?" Fenris said slowly, calmly.

"Especially half-elves," the noble went on, ignoring him, continuing to lecture her. "A tragic mixture of an elven woman and a human man. The other way around they fail to produce offspring entirely. At least you two don't have to worry, but it still sends the wrong message. Moreover, they are born sterile—"

"Oh my Maker. You are actually crazy," Hawke said, laughing. She looked at Fenris. "This is real?"

"There is no race too different from any another to produce sterile offspring," Fenris said, at this point speaking so slowly it was clear he was enraged.

"Yeah, you tell'im, dear," Hawke said, frowning at the racist.

The noble scoffed, finally acknowledging him. "You lack basic phylogenetic education, messere."

"We don't get down with pseudo race science. Please leave," Hawke said.

"It was discovered in Tevinter centuries ago when they tried to mix the strength of humans with the servility of elves to produce super-slaves—"

Fenris stood up, towering over him. "This is your last warning, ham-sandwich… Go back to your family… and leave us alone."

Did he just call him a ham-sandwich? She was on the floor inside.

The noble took a step back, gulping. "You don't have to get hysterical, serah—"

Hawke rolled her eyes. It was the first time it happened, but it was so, so familiar. Why are you getting angry? It's your own fault you let yourself get angry! Look at this [insert marginalised person], they're out of control! The guy came at the table trying to cause a scene, or rather, to make Fenris cause a scene, so that it fed back into the narrative of 'elves are savage and unruly'. She knew what she had to do. The realisation came to her with a big, fat slice of dread.

She had to turn into her fucking mother.

"I'm sorry! Waiter!" she said loudly, innocently. They both stopped and looked at her.

"Yes?" a waiter said.

"Can I speak to a manager? Hawke said, smiling.

"Is there a problem?" the waiter said, confused. He looked at the noble as Fenris sat down quietly.

"This man is harassing us and, you know, I just wanted a chill night out," she said, flying her planking palms away from her head. "That terror attack really took a lot out of me and I just wanted to relax—"

"Of course, Lady Hawke. Heroes are always welcome at Café Touché," the waiter said. He looked at the noble. "I'm… afraid I'm going to ask you to leave, serah."

Baldy McGoatee was positively incensed. The waiter took him away and they continued arguing.

"Not our problem anymore," Hawke said, folding her hands and smiling.

Fenris sighed. "This will always be our problem."

"Hey, fuck these people," Hawke said assuredly. "This is exactly the kind of thing I am not going to take," she said, tapping the table with her index finger. "I'm not hiding my affections for the comfort of a stupid racist."

There was a little smile, but he was avoiding her gaze.

"I scared a stupid racist today," he said finally. He looked proud of himself.

"Did you?" she said approvingly.

"Mhm," he said, finally making eye contact. "Ramsey's assistant was having problems with a neighbour."

"What'd you do…?" she said, unsure if she should be cheering or be worried.

Fenris shrugged with half-lidded eyes. "I asserted dominance."

"Ah…" Hawke said, grinning. "The old assert and subvert."

"No violence needed," Fenris said with a sadistic little twinkle.

"That's hot," she said, cheek in hand. She imagined him giving the prick a savage reading as the colour left their face.

"Also, Donnic helped," he said shyly, rubbing his neck.

"Oh, you two are becoming something," she said, squinting and grinning.

"That remains to be seen," he said with a little smirk. He looked around. "Let's just leave. I'm tired."

"Sure," she said, looking around too. "But… let's give it five more minutes, since people are watching." She raised her glass. "Consolidate our victory."

Fenris smirked and clinked his glass into hers. "Benefaris, ma adorae."

Evening, Hightown

It was nice on the way back. The dark starry night streaked through the tall buildings and red awnings, and his long black cardigan ballooned through the breeze.

They ran into Aveline and Donnic. They were all dressed up and holding each other as they walked. Aveline let her hair down and wore a shirt with a strappy corset and tight trousers. Donnic had this whole above the knee belted robe thing going on.

"Good evening," Donnic said, nodding politely.

"Hey, hey," Hawke said candidly.

"Heeeeeeey," Aveline said, saluting drunkenly.

"Hey," Fenris said flatly.

"Looks like you had a lot of fun, Aveline," Hawke said, chuckling.

"So much fun," Aveline said, slapping Donnic's chest. "I won every, single quiz round!"

"Yes, you did!" Donnic said, petting her hair. He looked at them, shaking his head and mouthing 'No'.

"Did you kids have a nice time?" Aveline said.

"Did we?" Hawke said with a question smirk in Fenris's direction.

"It was… fine," Fenris said, brushing his hair.

Everyone looked at him awkwardly.

He clicked his tongue. "It was all very nice, until a random racist decided to lecture us," he said, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

"I hope you showed him where he could kiss it," Aveline said, pointing at her behind.

"Oh, yeah," Hawke said in his direction, deciding to leave out her part. He needed a win. "He asserted dominance alright," she said, taking his hand.

"Yeeeeeee," Aveline said approvingly, holding out her fist.

Fenris cupped her fist and shook it.

"Oh my Maker," Donnic said, chuckling. "That whole thing you do scares me to my very soul."

"I think it's hot," Hawke said, winking at Fenris.

Fenris chuckled nervously and coughed.

"O… kay," Donnic said, clearing his throat and smiling. "Whatever floats your boat."

"Don't be a hypo—hic—hypocrite, babe," Aveline said, slapping his chest.

"Babe," Fenris said, chuckling.

"I'm a total babe," Donnic said confidently, waving along his height.

"Very devastating," Fenris said sarcastically.

"I am ready—hic—to be devastated," Aveline said drunkenly.

"Okay, time to get you home," Donnic said, chuckling.

"For devastation," Aveline added.

Hawke and Fenris looked at each other, laughing. "I like this side of you, Aveline," she said.

"I like this side of me too," Aveline said, as Donnic took her away. "Have fun, kids! Be smart! Don't forget to pull—"

"Alright, byeee," Donnic said, walking them faster.

"Thanks! Hope you come!" Hawke shouted after her. "To the party!"

Fenris laughed and shook his head.

"What? She started it!" Hawke said, smirking.

Evening, Fenris's Mansion

They went to her house first, to check that all was okay. They told their story proudly to her mother, who listened with intrigue and congratulated them, then gave some constructive criticism. Parents. Couldn't just say 'Well done!' and be done with it.

Then they went to his place, and, things became interesting…

She put the takeaway dessert on the bench and sat down in an armchair, legs crossed, while he rekindled the fire. He looked in her direction and said, "No, no. Stand up."

"Why?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Why not?" he said nonchalantly, throwing the last log in the fire.

She huffed to herself. "Good point." She stood up, and her gaze followed him.

"Stay there," Fenris said, sitting in his armchair. It was different, somehow. Maybe it was in the arms. They were atop the chair arms. He took up a lot more space in it.

"Staying," Hawke said, hands on her hips.

He tilted his head, cheek in hand, watching her quietly.

"I am nailing this," she said confidently, smirking.

"Run your hands down," he said, intertwining his fingers in front of himself.

So she did. She followed the contour of her sides and then ran her hands up, so the skirt got pulled and flew back down.

He muttered something in Tevene. It didn't sound like a curse.

"Who knew you were so visual?" she said, smirking. She went to unbutton her cardigan—

"Did I… tell you to do that…?" he said, raising an eyebrow. His hands came apart, one grabbing the chair arm midway, the other resting an elbow on it. His restrained manner of being crackled with power.

Her brain sent the message down her spine: Fuck that! Disobey! Resist him! Undo the button! But her spine refused. Something was paralysing her. She was pretty sure it had something to do with Fenris's eyebrow. It was exercising… psionic control over her.

"Something the matter, ma adorae?" he said impassively, crossing his leg over his knee.

Maker-damned right something's the matter! the brat in her shouted. Sir Eyebrow here thinks he can just tell you what to do, like you're some kind of eyebrow-pleasing freak? Does he think you'll just stand there and take it?!

What is this sorcery? she thought.

Let's show him! the brat said. Raise your eyebrow high in the sky!

Hawke raised her eyebrow smugly. "I don't know. Is there?" she said, snapping her button open.

Fenris's brow met hers. His fierce counter nearly tore her apart.

Counter his counter! Reach the bloody stars! the brat shouted.

She tilted her head back a little, so the next ascension looked higher than in reality. It was this close to trembling. She revealed her canine in a grin, and snapped another button open.

The baddest brow in town continued his unnerving stare, as his leg slowly came off his other leg. He stretched them apart with confidence, and petted the bulge in his trousers.

Hawke gradually turned her head away and kept the brow up untethered.

"You are trembling," he said softly.

Mmmmmm, fuck. She kept at it. A drop of sweat ran down her forehead.

"Look… at… me," Fenris said, his voice deepening.

You are not prepared, the brat said in graceful retreat.

Hawke looked at him. He was beckoning slowly. He was long done with looking at her body. His eyes just stayed on hers as she approached. She bent down a little, grabbing the edges of the chair, and continued the staring match.

"No, no," Fenris said, grinning evilly as he came forward. He grabbed her by the hips and spun her around suddenly, making her sit on him. She loved that—him doing something unseemly animated and wild. "Accept your defeat with dignity," he said, pushing her hips down on him.

"Mmm," Hawke groaned resentfully.

He pulled her down on his torso, and encased her waist tightly. "Say it," he whispered in her ear.

The brat was long gone, but someone or something was ever so silently screaming inside.

"Say what?" she said, turning her head to him, and, with her arm bending in front of his neck, brushing up his hair.

His warm hands went down in a cross along her legs, then uncrossed as he grabbed her knees and widened her legs apart. His nails sank into her knees and scratched up her legs. "You lost."

She inhaled deeply and held onto him for dear life. "I lost."

"Good Hawke," he said, taking her by the jaw and kissing her. He leaned back, taking her down with him. He started unbuttoning her cardigan, her shirt. So damn unhurriedly, while his hard-on deliberately rubbed under her. It made her sink her nails into his hair. To that, he paused, and, with a loose hand, snapped some buttons and stole a feel of her arse. His cock came out from under her skirt, between her legs. Every inch of him was hard. Oh boy, so close, and yet, so far. She grabbed it by the head, pushing on it, and her legs came together in a fury. He groaned out of the kiss and said, "Slow down, mad girl."

Accept your Maker-damned defeat. He is calling all the shots tonight, a voice inside her said. And your enjoyment? Monumental.

"Yes, Fenris," she said, releasing him.

He closed his eyes, his arm going tightly over her waist. He looked like he was savouring it. Then he took her hand and placed it on his cock, and slid down at his choice of intensity. All the way down, it turned out. He loosened her hand on the middle, then tightened it back towards the bottom. Of course. So she wouldn't strain his foreskin. How did she not think of that? Well, who the fuck cared? It was thrilling to learn him. More thrilling than impressing him.

His hand left her to fend for herself as he kissed her softly. He finished the last buttons on her shirt. Then his hands went to the sides of her thighs and brushed up, disturbing the skirt on the way. They ran up her naked skin, savouring it, then his nails went over her bra cups and sank in the edges, pulling them down. She could feel her face burning all over. He cupped her breasts, squeezed them together and then apart. Then, as he started playing with her nipples, he stuck his tongue in her mouth.

It was good. It was very good. She completely forgot it couldn't go further than that. Not until his hand reached down her skirt and her whole body immediately tensed up and her hand stopped on his cock. Fortunately, she didn't have to say anything. He simply took his hand away and broke the kiss. He kissed her cheek. An apology maybe? None of that mattered now. He suddenly grinned, and pulled her by the hair, her ear to his lips. "Kneel," he said in a deep voice.

"Oh… kay!" she said, grinning suddenly and trying to sit up.

"Uh-uh," he said, pulling her back and enveloping her waist. His chin went over her shoulder, his ear tilting at the ready.

"Yes, Fenris," she corrected herself.

He smiled a little, looking in the distance. He set her free and leaned back.

She stood up, adjusting her skirt. It hurt to leave his warmth. She turned around. He was touching himself. Mmm, so nice. She held onto his knees as she sat down on hers.

He held his cock up and she licked along it, looking at him. Something quickened in his expression. The dispassionate mask waned and turned into enjoyment. He let her take over. She wrapped her hands around his cock and licked the top teasingly. He inhaled deeply, watching her, and a growl came in his throat, but he didn't let it free. She took him in her mouth, and he gave a soft, melodious groan of relief.

He came forward, brushing her hair softly, pulling it up. He was starting to grind into her mouth a little, disturbing her rhythm, but it was oddly satisfying. She took him almost all in, and he moaned outright. He pushed on her head, just a few more seconds. She couldn't take more. She sprang away, leaving saliva all over the place.

"Man, you're a lot," she said hungrily, rubbing his cock.

He leaned back, grinning. "Again."

"Yes, Fenris," she said, preparing to recommence. She looked up at him. "I'll tap you when it's too much, okay?"

"Whatever you need," he said, coming forward. She was going to go down on him, but he held her face up in his hands and he kissed her. "You're doing an excellent job."

Long time since she heard that in life. Quick and simple. Nowadays, it was mostly criticism; constructive or otherwise. She felt relief, and seen. I've got you. Everyone needed that. It warmed her up like nothing else.

She smiled, he smiled. She went down on him, his hands brushing up her hair. He was groaning, breathing more rapidly. It was all descending into a delicious mouth fuck. She went all the way down and he finally let out that old suppressed growl. It didn't scare her at all. She wanted more. He sank his nails in her hair, and pushed her down. That cock was tough as bricks inside her, throbbing, pulsating, complete. It was exquisite. She tapped on his leg, and he pulled her up by her hair, both gasping loudly.

There was something about a person kissing her after she went down on them, taking her saliva. It was gratitude and urgency and a mingling of forces. A deeper trust.

He groaned softly as he broke the kiss, holding her face close to his, forehead in forehead. He breathed and said in a warm, deep voice, "Again, you beautiful thing."

She was all ready for round number three.

She put her neck into it, determined to make him cum nice and hard. It wasn't happening. He must have masturbated already. But no bother. Time to experiment.

Her mouth clamped all the way down on his cock, then she sprang away and showed her violent teeth. She kissed his cock and said, "You're making me crazy, Fenris."

"Yeah?" he said, breathing. "How crazy?"

"Just… fucking crazy," she said curtly, rubbing him hard. "I want all your cum. I want to choke on it. I need it."

He growled and grinned, a flash of sharp teeth. "Then go and get it," he said, pulling her hair and pushing her down. He fucked her mouth like a champion. Do it all day! She was tough and full of love. She scratched his thighs and closed her throat as she took him in all the way down. He grunted and pulled away and came back in with force. Again. Then again. Then he moaned loudly and exploded in her mouth like fireworks.

She wiped her mouth, warm and thrilled with victory. He brushed up his bangs, dead in the chair. He couldn't open his eyes. She stood up and sat back on him, and he hugged her tightly. The only prison she could get behind. He kissed her cheek, her ear. He buried his head in her shoulder. It took a lot out of him. Maybe he surprised himself too.

She relished this sweet moment of intimacy, that he let himself fall on her shoulder when he was not asleep.

"What did you think?" she said, petting his hair.

"I can't… think at all," he said in her shoulder.

She bit on her lip with all her teeth in victory and kissed his head. "Awesome."

"You should wear skirts more often," Fenris said, cuddling her in bed.

"You really are getting a taste for femme," Hawke said, chuckling.

"It's… pretty," he said shyly. He cleared his throat. "And more accessible."

"Planning your moves for later?" she said, raising a playful eyebrow.

"Always," he said, kissing her. His confidence waned the next second. "Was that… alright for you?"

She pulled him back by the collar and kissed him. "Truly devastating."

He tittered and smiled, proud of himself.

"You're a natural, really," she said, coming out of his embrace, resting her head on her upright forearm.

"A natural?" he said, chuckling and grinning, looking away. "You're laying the compliments on thick."

"I'm serious," she said, hitting him on the shoulder gently. "Feels like you were born to be a dom."

A corner of his mouth smiled, as he sank into brooding. "I suppose… I have a need for control."

"Makes sense," she said, shrugging. "I get like that, too."

"It didn't really feel like control, when you got like that," he said, smirking a little.

"No. It's not all about control," she said, thinking. "It can be about care, positive reinforcement. It can be about delivering a mindblowing experience. It can also be about pain, causing pain. Everyone does it for different reasons."

He scanned her. "You've held back. I've noticed."

"Well, yeah," she said, chuckling. "I don't think it's what you need right now. Maybe the care and positive side. I'm down with that. But… I think I need the other thing right now."

"Pain?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"No. Well, sure, a little," she said, winking. "No. I meant… giving in. Not… doing everything. It feels like relief."

He went into his thoughts. "You're in charge all the time. It must be terribly draining."

"I like being in charge. I don't think I could ever work for someone again. I have too many issues with authority."

Fenris scoffed in amusement. "Don't I know it…"

"You don't seem to have an issue with me," Hawke said, smirking.

"Because you're a good leader," he said matter-of-factly. "You lead from the front, you care about your people. You treat them like family."

"Yeah. And family's exhausting," she said, chuckling. "Also I think the whole 'hero' hype is getting to my head."

He frowned. He saw past it. "You don't believe you're a hero?"

"No. I just let myself believe it because people are saying it. It's not the same thing. It's…" she said, sighing, "validating some narcissistic, wounded part of me, and I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"But you did risk everything in that alley." There was a flash of sadness in his eyes, but he quickly regained control. "We nearly lost you."

She clicked her tongue. "Yeah, yeah, risked my life, nearly lost my sanity; it all sounds nice. But if I didn't do it, someone else would have. There was no sitting still and letting the poison take over the city."

"The Guard would have had to deal with it alone, and the Lowtowners would have gone in poorly prepared in ad hoc relief parties. Who knows how many more lives would have been lost?"

"The Templars would have come, eventually."

"Eventually," Fenris said sternly. "Qamek waits for no Templar."

"I suppose."

"Sounds like your mind never lets you win."

"I may look like I just wing it, and I do to a degree, but really, I overthink everything," Hawke said, chuckling. "It's exhausting."

"I know," he said, chuckling. He brushed over her loose bangs. "I get that."

"But…" she said, smiling. "When I trust someone and I can just let go… It's liberating."

"Liberating?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Very," she said.

"Huh," he said, brooding.