TW: homophobia
Fenris approached the base of the mountain. It was a great place for walking in the evening, were it not so perilous. He could see the river coiling like a serpent between thick branches, he could hear the birds singing everywhere, and the twilight was starting early; it was going to last forever over the brilliant tree-tops and angular roofs of Kirkwall. And if you looked long enough beyond the fog, you could see it descending into the Waking Sea, amidst the great chains and giant slave statues, above the grey and violet clouds.
He rather enjoyed the fog now.
Yes, let it eat all that ugliness away. He suddenly imagined a great flood and storm breaking them apart, swallowing every head and limb and chain, in the great maw of oblivion.
Despite his sweet epic fantasies, a tightness in his throat was building. For one unbearable second, he was in the jaws of the beast in his nightmares. Then, in some cruel and twisted imagination, he saw the giant wolf tower like a titan over the slave statues in the sea, the smoky crimson eyes dissolving in the fog, as if he held the chains of the port, as if he held the chains to two weeping elves, one white-haired and one dark-haired, as well as to countless other helpless, lost souls.
This strange presence deep inside his brain, this inexplicable force, this nihilistic heartless monster was shooting with unstoppable fury to the top of his enemy list, so much so that he could scarce remember who else was on it.
He paused the thought when a red-headed Dalish man approached from the opposite direction, carrying a little girl on his shoulders. She couldn't have been older than three, and she had this brilliant brown fur vest with a hood over her head. She became overly excited at the sight of Mojo.
"Be weary. I ran into bandits earlier," Fenris said.
"Thank you for the warning, kind stranger," the Dalish man said, looking down at Mojo, who was smelling him. "A… friendly dog, is it?"
Fenris scoffed softly. "Quite."
"Aww, look at ya, you're as big as a battleship," the Dalish man said, letting Mojo lick his hand. His daughter was nearing the end of her patience, grasping at the air.
He picked her up from his shoulders and put her down. With a little wobble, she reached for Mojo's head, and he licked her face. The most adorable laugh came out of her, and she finally petted him.
"There ya go," the Dalish man said, smiling as he put his hands on his hips. He looked up at him. "Ya hail from Ferelden, too?" he asked, quite obviously confused.
"Far from it," Fenris said. And then, with irony he needed to analyse later, the Fereldan expression escaped his mouth, "It's my other half's mabari."
Adora! My adora! What's this 'other half' nonsense?! a dramatic part of him protested. It was so incensed. It had a whole damn mental mural of Hawke in a light not far from something like a goddess. There was no other half. There was only the other name. Adora. Alluring, enlightened, burning—
Glorious… the hard-up grinning lunatic agreed.
Chill, man. Be a little multicultural, an easy-going part of him said. Besides, don't you feel more… complete… these days?
She is the puzzle and I am the answer, a rational part of him said.
She is the moon and I am the tide, an emotional part of him said.
She is the bitch and I am the bone, the hard-up grinning lunatic said.
For one brilliant moment… there was silence.
Get these Maker-damned simps out of here, the gruff voice growled slowly.
Hey, now. Stay, guys. I'm honoured, the red band said, chuckling.
They're all compromised, the boring, but necessary voice of willpower agreed.
She is the beast and I'll have her back, the hard-up grinning lunatic went on.
Especially that guy, the boring band-aid bath guy said.
"Ball! Ball!" the little girl shouted. Fenris flinched. She was grasping up at the air in front of him and eyeing the ball in his hand.
Fenris came down to her eye level, and held out the ball. She wobbled towards him, her green eyes big and happy, her hand extended at the ready. She took the ball, and, with her other hand, surprised him with a pat on the head. Her hand was so small and soft, and she produced a very deliberate smile, with a tilt of the head and closing of the eyes. As if to say, "There, there. I see you."
From those tiny fingers, a great wave shot through his head down to his toes, an incredible gentleness. He felt light and dizzy, and he merely stared at her. She left and threw the ball. He looked up at the Dalish man, who was laughing. He must have looked like an idiot.
He stared down demons and dragons and dread abominations, but a little girl demolished him in a simple, single second.
"Goo'boy!" she said loudly, petting Mojo as he came back with the ball.
Fenris stood up and cleared his throat.
She'd probably have green eyes, too. And dark hair, most likely dark hair. She'd get his tan skin for sure, and though human, would retain some elven features. She'd be the smartest person in the universe, and probably crazy.
What in the Void are you thinking about right now? the gruff voice complained.
And a name. A good name, too. Not like his, nor Hawke's. They were terrible names. Burdens of legacy and slavery. Fuck all that.
Fuck all that, the red band agreed.
It should be something melodious and true.
He's thinking with his ovaries, the boring band-aid bath guy commented.
He wishes he had something as strong as ovaries, the red band said.
He has a dick, the gruff voice said.
A rock-hard dick, the hard-up grinning lunatic added.
Dicks make men stupid and weak, the red band said. Now stop thinking about it. There's a fucking child—
"Ya had a nice time up the mountain?" the Dalish man said suddenly.
Fenris flinched. What in the Void was he thinking about right now? He wasn't thinking. He was in heat.
It's hot in here, man. Cooped up… every day, the hard-up grinning lunatic said. You need to let me out and play.
Hey, now. Just wait… the red band said. You'll see me soon enough.
Alright, adora, the hard-up grinning lunatic said.
Don't tell him what to do, witch! the gruff voice said.
Aww, come now, the red band said. I'm merely using the power of… imagination.
No. You're up to something, the gruff voice said. You're always up to something.
Am I? the red band teased. Didn't I tell you before? I wanna let go. Maybe you should be up to something.
Up to no Maker-damned good, the hard-up grinning lunatic agreed.
He realised the Dalish man was staring at him.
"Yes…" he said, regathering himself. He was all over the place! "I found a nice meadow."
"The one past the stepping stones?"
"Yes, that's the one."
"Ah, a good one," the Dalish man said, smiling. "Legends say a spirit of joy lives there, in a tree."
Fenris frowned, ignoring the maddening feeling of deja-vu. "I did not see any spirit."
"'Course you didn't. Spirits don't just show themselves," the Dalish man said, as if it were obvious. "Best to hope for is that she smiled upon ya, eh?"
Fenris scoffed. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."
She did, and… it did, a new voice said. A peculiar, mystical voice, filled with intuition.
Or conjecture, the rational part said.
Oh, look who's waking up! the boring band-aid bath guy mocked him.
He made some more polite conversation, until the Dalish man decided it was time to go. He put his daughter up on his shoulders, which made Fenris smile for no reason, then told her to give the ball back.
"Keep it," Fenris said, pursing his lips in a contained smile.
"What do we say to the kind stranger?" the Dalish man said up at her.
"Ma serannas," the little girl said, smiling again with her eyes closed.
"Dareth shiral," the Dalish man said, hiking up and away.
"Banavis fedari," Fenris said politely.
"Byeeeee!" the girl said with her incredibly high-pitched voice, waving at them.
"B-bye," Fenris said, waving awkwardly. He could feel his face. It was doing that stupid smile again.
Mojo groaned and tilted his head, giving him a look. An inquisitive look.
"Shut up," Fenris said.
Silence, finally. Now where was he? Ah, yes. The enemy li—
Mojo groaned and puffed unhappily. Fenris threw the back-up ball.
Now where was he? Ah, yes. The enemy li—
Sure you're done fawning over your hypothetical babies together? the gruff voice mocked him.
You are in so much heat you're thinking of spawning other versions of you? a critical voice said.
They will be smart and beautiful, the hard-up grinning lunatic said.
Not to mention imaginary, the gruff voice said.
Please… just… stop, Fenris thought.
The time was for the enemy list. What enemy list? The very long, blurry enemy list, since that asshole came out of the fog. He had to sort it out. It stressed him out so much.
Danarius was far away, yet still in his head, despite how much Fenris worked to divorce himself from his influence. Even so, he was strangely forgettable these days. Hadriana who?
The Fog Warriors did the bulk of the work to open his eyes, and in their debt and honour, he developed a strong and ruthless sense of independence he'd sooner die than abandon… until very recently. His mind began to wander like a maniac around the avenues of possibility—maybe he could make room, real honest room, for love. Hawke's lovely face came in his mind, her warm embrace, her equally entertaining and irritating personality, her wise words, her incredible smile. He could make a person smile like that. And the way he felt with her close, that much closer—exquisite, safe, peaceful, powerful… true. He had trouble believing any of it was real, but it was. And immediately he felt that stupid face on his face. Immediately he felt like there was nothing truer and simpler in the world than holding her, and laughing together.
Family's the most important thing to me, he remembered Hawke saying.
That was Hawke. It didn't matter if you were a little lost, a little backwards, a little inside out or completely parallel to reality. She brought you out or took you in—human, elf, demon, whatever—and Maker help the sods that fucked with you. He criticised her for it on more than one occasion, but the truth was, he admired her for it. She was like Marius, like Aura, like Tova. There was no doubt in his mind she was a good mother.
Perhaps he could… have it all.
Here we go again… the gruff voice complained.
The little girl popped in his head instantly, her kind smile and her soft and tiny hand. His chest filled with fear and excitement. It was a wild ride when a silly fancy, an impossibility, suddenly dipped its feet into reality. A family. He'd longed for it forever, like a vagabond animal starved of affection, though he'd never admit it, not even to Hawke in full. Flashes of moments passed in his mind's eye, of him lighting a candle for himself in dilapidated churches, feeling overwhelmingly lonely and breaking down crying. And in such moments of weakness, when he knew he didn't deserve to be loved because he'd murdered that chance along with the people who gave it to him, he'd regret his escape. An awful, vile thought. In some perverse momentary logic, it was better to be the favourite slave to a madman than to have nobody in the world that bothered to love or damn him. So the cycle continued, with no patience or civility, tossing him around the emptiness in his heart, from one barbed wall to another, from the need to be loved to—
hate! Hate! HATE! something growled inside him. A fearful, perilous, paranoid voice. A half-blind man. The fight-or-flight instinct. It filled him with boiling rage and fear.
A cold wind disturbed his hair, and he brushed up his bangs.
It seemed as though he had another master to worry about. One he hadn't even known was there. He was right there, inside him, being carried everywhere, as if in a hidden pocket, no matter how far he ran, fucking with his happiness.
A monster squatted in the tomb of his heart like he squatted in the abandoned mansion. Once he was risen, he steamed with hate, and made a mess of everything.
There we go. Back on track, the boring voice of willpower said.
NO. MORE. MASTERS, the gruff voice declared stalwartly.
Was this 'Patriarch' the 'Demon Prince' in that strange psychic's reading, the one still holding his chains long after he'd escaped?
He is the first and last enemy, the intuitive voice said.
Was it more than just a literal suggestion to go to the City of Chains, then? He looked at the slowly sinking sun between the thick and high buildings of Kirkwall.
The sun is everywhere, he remembered him saying to the old woman.
It's above Kirkwall, she insisted, adjusting the Sun card primly over the Demon Prince.
Was the 'Sun' his natural adversary?
I don't want to make you the answer, he remembered him saying to Hawke.
Then don't make me the answer, Hawke replied. You're your own answer. I believe in you.
Just be… happy, man, the boring band-aid bath guy said.
The wind stopped, and for a moment, there was silence. The cold dissipated into his hair like a crown of ice, and he looked at the sun.
There was a strange and cruel irony there, that he'd played with metaphors like a fool played with grenades, thinking they were toys.
He drew in a deep, deep breath. The answer was clear as day before him: I am coming for you, asshole. Your long reign of terror is ending, because I am waking up.
Again.
Sunset, The Piss & Quiet
It was a dark and dingy pub, with not so much as two identical chairs. The long bar was on the left, a painting of the Vhenedahl behind it. Sylaise symbology was painted on a wall, fading away with the cracks and the dust. There was a bear rug on the floor that needed some explanation.
Immediately, flashes of that horrible night came in his mind. How he took a seat at the bar, already quite drunk, and that damned dove kept staring at him. Mocking him.
Freedom? Ha! What freedom? What peace? They do not share your address. They never will!
Bam. Splat. Get wrecked, shitty bird.
When Fenris put the newly crafted creature on the bar, the bartender Asher told him was called Josvin stared at him.
"Fen'Harel take me, he's come back with a dove," Josvin said, crossing his arms.
Fenris pursed his lips, giving a faint nod as he looked down.
Josvin scoffed, approaching the statuette. "What took you so long?"
The same damned old thing, the intuitive voice said.
"Memory problems," Fenris said.
Josvin examined it. "D'you get this from Ilen?"
"Yes," Fenris said, frowning. "How did you know?"
"He comes here once a year, mostly to complain," Josvin said, laughing. "He made the original, too."
"Ah," Fenris said, thinking. "A happy coincidence."
"Didn't he tear you a new one when he heard you broke his work?" Josvin said with a kind of hope in his eyes.
"I didn't get to that part," Fenris said, smiling a little. Ilen was way too preoccupied with whether he was just going to set fire to it again. Good that he didn't mention the reason he needed the dove. The man would have jumped over the table, strangling him to the ground.
"Elgar'nan, the Pissfaggot returns!" a young voice said behind him. He looked back.
Kaffas… Those boys. They were sitting at a table, around a kid with a big cardboard wall in front of him. Their leader, not the cardboard kid as it turned out, was sitting next to him at the corner of the table, with his tunic hood up, his ears poking out from makeshift holes. His minions were laughing and making fart noises.
Josvin rolled his eyes.
Fenris wanted to leave… but he was interested in the cardboard mystery. He tapped the bar and nodded honourably. An apology made in silence. Josvin nodded back.
He approached the Void table, myriad of papers becoming visible, as well as figurines and what appeared to be a map buried underneath.
"You wanna get beat up again?" the leader said, flexing with severe overcompensation. "Zath's good for it."
Fenris ignored him. It was better not to tempt evil forces like maleficarum or teenagers.
"What's this?" he asked the cardboard-walled boy.
"This?" Zath answered for him, showing off the table as if it were treasure. "This is all you," he said, grinning with his teeth at the others. He looked back at him nonchalantly. "And if you held out a little longer, it'd have been the complete shit. The real shit. Deluxe shit!"
"Get to the point," Fenris said gruffly.
"Divine Age," the walled boy said, obviously working on something behind it. There were drawings on it, of Andraste holding a sword, as well as various warriors, rogues and mages.
"Divine Age?" Fenris said, raising his eyebrow.
"It's a TTRPG," another boy said, as if that was common knowledge.
"A what?" Fenris said, his head spinning.
The boys laughed. "TTRPG," the leader said, scoffing. "What are you like? He's too old for that shit."
"I'm not too old for that," Fenris said defensively.
"Alright. What does it mean, then?" Zath said, his hands going under his chin.
T-T-R-P-G. He broke it down. G stood for game. P could have been… paper? R could have been… Where was he again? T…
That little shit is trying to make you look bad! the gruff voice said. Assert your authority!
Calm down. Look at that walled kid. He's got no spine, the boring band-aid bath guy said. Talk to him.
"I don't know," Fenris said nonchalantly. He looked at the walled kid intentionally. "What does it mean?"
"Tabletop role-playing game," the kid said.
Zath hit him on the arm. "Don't tell him that!"
Fenris grinned. "Ah. Like Necropolis, only with role-play."
"Aw, banger," the walled kid said quietly. "Also with a game master."
"Game master?" Fenris said.
"The master of the game," the boy said, pointing at himself matter-of-factly.
So that's why he had a wall around him. He held all the information, and ultimately, their fates in his hand.
"How does it work?" Fenris asked.
"You're agents of Andraste's army in the fight against the Imperium."
Nice. She could have her role-play and he could control everything. Plus, killing evil mages always put a smile on his face.
You know what would be a good role-play? the hard-up grinning lunatic said suddenly.
Wait! Andraste's Exalted March was 180 years before the Divine Age! a rational voice butted in.
Who the fuck cares? Listen to me, the hard-up grinning lunatic said. Pretend you don't know each other. You've just met. How would that go now? I know…
Fenris crossed his arms. "That was well before the Divine Age."
"It wasn't that long before," the game master said passionately.
You could be the guardsman, she could be the unruly activist, the hard-up grinning lunatic went on.
Fuck the police! the red band said. What're you gonna do?
"It's the race for the Divine Age. The liberation of southern Thedas—" the boy went on.
You could be the prosecutor, she could be the hostile witness, the hard-up grinning lunatic continued.
I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, the red band agreed.
You're losing the thread here, the boring band-aid bath guy intervened.
Agreed, Fenris thought. This game sounded amazing. He needed to get his hands on it as soon as possible.
"—then the Inquisition, but that's extra content—"
"—which Zath's dying to buy, if you're feeling a little punch-happy again," the leader said with a shit-eating grin, blowing on his fist.
"Yeah, right in the dick!" another boy shouted.
"Yeah, faggots love it in the dick," Zath said, laughing.
So. Fucking. WHAT? the hard-up grinning lunatic said angrily.
Calm down. They're just children, the boring band-aid bath guy said.
They were just stupid brats. And those root bears didn't fool anyone. But that Zath kid… He seemed so, so familiar.
"Where did you get it?" Fenris asked.
"Zath gives that info out on a need-to-know basis," he said, spreading his arms and grinning. "And you don't need to know."
He talked in the third person, like he was such big shit he had to kiss his own arse.
So insecure, the gruff voice said.
And so familiar, the intuitive voice said.
"Tell me," Fenris said.
The kid continued grinning, and held out his hand. He wanted money.
Fenris stared at him, unimpressed. He leaned towards the game master. "Where do I get this from?"
The game master was about to tell him, but he looked at Zath and stopped himself. "From your mother's butt," he said, sighing.
The other boys laughed approvingly.
"Tell me before I find your mothers and they hear you're drinking in an old man's pub pretending to be humans," Fenris said, waving along the table of mostly human figurines.
"You're gonna get one in the mouth-hole for free, Pissfaggot," Zath threatened.
"Yeah, right in the mouth-hole!" they echoed, laughing.
Look at you. You have no authority over them. You lost it all that night, the gruff voice said. What in the Void were you thinking?
He was in pain, but it didn't hurt anywhere, the intuitive voice said. It was the most logical thing in that moment that it should.
"You want it in the mouth-hole, Pissfaggot?" Zath continued, laughing.
Fenris looked up at the ceiling. Threatening teenagers with violence suddenly seemed like a bad idea.
Instead, he took Zath's pint and drank it quietly. He made a deliberate sound of refreshment, then put it back on the table. They were staring at him, didn't expect it.
Finally, Zath spoke, "What was that? You a pedo? You want that Zath spit? You want to turn Zath into a faggot?"
"Do you want a real beer?" Fenris said calmly.
There was a flicker there, in the kid's eyes.
"Teh! He's gonna turn you into his little bitch!" a boy said, hitting Zath on the arm.
"Shut up," Zath said tersely to him. "Zath's no one's bitch. Zath's his own bitch." He glared back at Fenris. "And the bitch needs a drink. From Fen'Harel's bitch."
"We have a deal then?" Fenris said.
"Alright, poof," Zath said, pointing down at the table. "Bring Zath the hard shit."
He went and got the "hard shit", the weakest ale Josvin had. But, as he waited, the internal dialogue from the Void persisted:
Thank the Maker he is not a magister, the boring band-aid bath guy said.
He'd get assassinated, the gruff voice said.
Not before he'd kill his share of slaves, or at the very least, endlessly torment them, the boring band-aid bath guy said. But it doesn't matter. He's an elf.
So, what? The only thing that keeps us from being megalomaniacal psychopaths is just the random unlucky throw of the race dice? the gruff voice complained.
Don't exaggerate, man, the boring band-aid bath guy said.
It's not race, anyway. It's— the gruff voice said.
MAGIC! the half-blind man screamed. DARK MAGIC! BLOOD MAGIC! PUPPET MAGIC! IT WILL SWALLOW THE WORLD UNTIL THERE IS NOTHING LEFT.
Nothing's happening, man, the boring voice of willpower intervened.
DON'T LET THE QUIET FOOL YOU, the half-blind man said. THE BEAST IS IN THERE, IN EVERY MAGE, READY TO RIP YOU TO SHREDS.
Pfft, yeah, the red band said sarcastically. Because no non-mage ever let power go to their head.
HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A HORNET INVADE A BEEHIVE? the half-blind man said.
Hey, man… that's not always a bad thing, the hard-up grinning lunatic intervened.
Power going to one's head or invading beehives? the red band said.
Yes… the hard-up grinning lunatic said.
Who in Thedas gave you that idea? red band teased.
Maybe I should let it go to his head, the gruff voice threatened. It may humble you.
Maybe you should, the red band said.
Where is the silence button?! Fenris thought angrily.
I'm trying, man, but… they outnumber me, the boring band-aid bath guy said.
He came back with the drink and squeezed himself forcefully on the bench, next to Zath.
"Where did you get the game?" Fenris said, pushing the ale a little in his direction.
"Look, guys, Zath's got himself a butler," he said proudly. He had one sip and forgot about it. He didn't really care about the beer. He cared about what it symbolised.
He's toying with you now, the boring band-aid bath guy said.
No. Let him bask in his shitty little glory, the gruff voice said. Then take it all away.
"What shall Zath tell him to do next? Stick his finger in his bum?" Zath said, laughing.
Fenris waited, staring him down.
Zath went on talking shit.
"Come on, man. I need to be home soon and we've barely played," the game master complained.
"Fine, fine…" Zath said, his shoulder sinking a little. There was a recognition there, that he shouldn't piss off the game master. Zath probably would have liked to be master of everything, but the kid's attention span didn't allow for it. He beckoned to Fenris. "Come here, poof. I'll tell you."
"Just tell me," Fenris said, annoyed.
"Nuh-uh. You gotta lean in. You gotta respect the Zath," he said firmly, pointing at himself. "You gotta respect Zath's info. Shit is major."
He's your best friend, the intuitive voice said. You just know it.
More nonsense, the gruff voice said.
Fenris sighed and had his ear at the ready, for the 'major' shit.
"You get it from The Spine," Zath whispered. "In Hightown. They have games and porno shit at the back. Real shit. Hardcore shit. Triple tits and everything."
Hardcore shit? the hard-up grinning lunatic said suddenly. You've got to get your hands on that. Read it to Princess Brat as a bed-time story. She'll be begging you to make it real.
Will she? the boring band-aid bath guy said. Somehow taking advice from 'porno shit' made by, most likely, lonely men doesn't seem like a good idea.
Listen to this guy, baby, the red band said.
Quiet, Fenris thought.
So that's why Zath was so proud. It must have made these boys' day, going from the Alienage to Hightown with a fat coin purse to get a game meant for humans. But he had to emphasise the 'porno shit', to sound cool.
He did a good thing that night, albeit by accident.
"What're you whispering so long about?" a boy said, laughing. "You making him your boyfriend?"
"I said, 'Zath's gonna fuck your head off'," he said, spreading his arms and overdoing the hand gestures.
In the meantime, Fenris quietly took the pint away from him, and drank the whole thing. "Thank you," he said, standing up and circling around.
"The fuck do you think you are?" Zath said angrily, standing up. "Doing that sneaky shit on Zath, Fen'Harel style! You're gonna get fucked, Pissfaggot! This is fucking domino shit!"
It was hard to see in the moment that taking away a teenager's beer would cause some catastrophic cascade response. But what was he going to do?
It is done, the gruff voice said.
"You should not make deals with dread wolves," Fenris said, smirking as he left.
Sunset, The Spine
He stopped by Hawke's house to drop off Mojo. This dog was obsessed with him. Why?
Oh my Maker. What if she put the dog up to this? the gruff voice said in alarm.
Oh, no! What if I did? the red band teased.
To do what? the boring voice of willpower intervened.
I don't know. To spy on him or something, the gruff voice said.
Don't be paranoid, man, the boring band-aid bath guy said.
Oh my Maker. You're compromised too, the gruff voice said.
I repeat my earlier statement, the boring band-aid bath guy said.
The red band was just snickering. It was enjoying itself too much.
He went inside the bookstore, his stomach grumbling and begging him to go somewhere with food next. But for the moment, the smell of books satisfied. Myriad of new copies of Divine Justinia's autobiography, The Road to Val Royeaux, were on display. He forgot about the place. It was not his bookstore.
"I'm looking for Divine Age," Fenris said to the owner. It was a tall human, pale as a ghost, with a long, symmetrical face, his hair and eyes dark as opal, and rather skinny.
"Through this corridor, serah," he said politely.
The back looked more like a worn warehouse, save for a few bookcases and displays. The windows on the left were tall and much too narrow, and the wall lamps had interesting ornate trumpet shapes.
He spotted Andraste's face on the Divine Age box immediately. He was so excited.
Boy, am I, the hard-up grinning lunatic agreed.
No, the voice of willpower said.
Come on… just turn your head. You can do it, the hard-up grinning lunatic said.
He cracked and looked at the next bookcase. There wasn't much to see. Most books were just plain hardbacks, with the occasional bent-over elven maid or triple-breasted dragon lady.
Nothing for him here, the gruff voice said.
Come on, man… There's something for everyone, the hard-up grinning lunatic said.
He picked up a book called Hunger At Dawn. The abstract read: Giulia is a young and clueless house servant, fresh off the boat from Antiva. Her new life awaits, in the glamorous countryside of Val Foret. She is to serve a wealthy lord whose son is a handsome, womanising nightmare. Will she change him—
No, Fenris thought, closing the book. He picked up another, called Undone. The abstract read: Clara is a young cloistered sister who's devoted her life to worshipping the Maker. But a visit from a strange foreign nobleman—
Fenris closed the book. They were all young, innocent women paired with handsome male aristocrats.
Where are all the men?! the gruff voice complained.
In the graphic novels, the hard-up grinning lunatic said.
There weren't many. He gave a quick glance. It was just a lot of giant tits and cocks.
And glorious pussy, the hard-up grinning lunatic said.
Fenris closed the book.
What are you doing, man? the hard-up grinning lunatic said.
It just didn't work like that.
Who cares what or who they are? the hard-up grinning lunatic complained. Just ignore their faces. It's what they're doing that you want to do.
It just wasn't enough. And there wasn't much of a story to get into, anyway, so—
Shut up. Look at that one, the hard-up grinning lunatic said. The Damme's Dungeon.
It was mostly a novel, with some illustrations every dozen pages. Damme Eliza Fahrenheit, a stunning and fearsome woman with long, dark hair, and her submissive, Cora, who was an equally tall red-head. The darker, autumn red like Hawke's.
Bingo, the hard-up grinning lunatic said. Look at that beautiful rope work.
It was, indeed… quite nice. A whole intricate harness, ending around Cora's thick thighs.
Fenris swallowed.
This is you, man, the hard-up grinning lunatic said. Beyond all the calm and collection and tedious intellectualism. You're just a hard-up, hungry beast, thinking of her warm thighs. You need them every damn day. Just embrace it.
No, he wasn't "just that". He was just… more that, these days… Too much, even. Perhaps demisexuality had stages?
Fuck your demisexuality, the hard-up grinning lunatic said. This isn't about that, and you know it. You imprinted on that red-head like a fucking animal from the moment you shared a drink together and she made you laugh. And yet, what have you done for most of these years? Nothing.
Nothing? Fenris thought. That was a whole lot of bullshit. He'd done plenty of… thinking.
Yeah, thinking, the hard-up grinning lunatic said mockingly. Thinking and worrying and keeping me limp, almost every Maker-damned day.
Well, he had other priorities, in the past.
More lies, the hard-up grinning lunatic said. I'll tell you the truth, if you buy me that book.
The price of truth was two kinky lesbians. Fine. Why not?
The truth is, the hard-up grinning lunatic said, you were just too sad to jerk off. That's it.
That's it…
He looked at the dark and narrow windows, the trees dancing outside in the wind.
It was so simple it slapped him in the face.
And now… he wasn't too sad anymore. Not even with night terrors and a painful infection.
Nothing can bring me down now, the hard-up grinning lunatic said. Especially not after you cut her bullshit and made her listen to you like a good girl.
That… was… pretty spectacular, the gruff voice agreed.
It did boost up his morale… the boring band-aid bath guy also agreed.
Festis bei umo canavarum. They were all compromised. He was completely fucked now.
Oops, the red band said innocently, giggling.
No. She's completely fucked, the hard-up grinning lunatic said. She has no idea how much.
Bullshit. She knows. She's been toying with him for years, the gruff voice said.
Foreplay, baby, the hard-up grinning lunatic said. Time to drive it up to a hundred. Show her who's boss. She's dying for it. Death by being dicked down.
Finally, we agree, the gruff voice said.
We could be so good together, man, the hard-up grinning lunatic said. Hard and Harder. The Hardie Boys.
Let me guess. I'll do all the work and you'll just be creaming yourself, the gruff voice said.
Teamwork! the hard-up grinning lunatic said.
The red band simply snickered in the background.
Festis bei umo canavarum.
Sunset, Hightown Market
Hawke sucked on a lollipop, brooding as she walked. She spent the entire day working and trying so very hard not to think about sex, but it just wasn't happening. Fenris was taking his dark side out for a walk, and she was dying for a marathon. Linear time and female anatomy were her enemies now.
Bad uterus.
A flash of Fenris came before her eyes, the way he sat in the chair and glared at her. Did I… tell you to do that?
Oh, sweet, beautiful pain.
Accept your defeat with dignity, she remembered him saying, as he pushed her down on his pelvis.
Not this time. Not with all this frustration and madness building up and burning her from the inside out. She was going to become ungovernable.
She went into The Spine, scouting for the next book for smut club. Instead, she found her repressed boyfriend.
"Fen Fen," Hawke said with mock surprise and judgement.
He flinched so hard he dropped his book. It opened at an illustration, where a black-haired domme was sitting fearsomely on a tied-up red-head's back, pulling her hair and grinning like a deranged psychopath.
"What are you doing in a place like this?" she said, grinning and biting down on her lolly.
Fenris went down to pick up the book, and cleared his throat as he stood up.
"Enjoying some literature?" Hawke said, crossing her arms with an evil grin and a tilting of the head.
"I was… looking for a game," he said, coughing. "It's right… right there," he said quietly, pointing at it.
She sucked on her little mind-helper and gazed at the box, thinking. "A game, huh? Is it a role-playing game?"
"Yes," he said, smiling a little. "I told you I'd find you one."
"Aww," she said, smiling warmly. "You're always true to your word."
"Hm," he said, grinning through his hair. "Always keep your word to a beautiful maiden."
"Maiden, huh?" she said, brushing her hair. "Feeling like a big shot knight or something?"
He looked away a little, his eyebrows twitching, as if to say, 'Well… yes.' But he quickly turned back and said, "You could be a big shot knight in this," he said, pointing at the game.
"Oo," she said, perusing the Divine Age artwork. "Maybe I'll mix it up and be a mage-y mage," she said, smiling evilly.
Fenris's grin turn into a little grimace. He opened his book and started reading.
"What do you think?" she teased. "I could change the course of history so the Templars never come to pass."
Fenris ignored her, and kept reading. Hawke chuckled, biting on her lollipop. "And what's this game?" she said, pointing at his book with her lolly.
"The other kind of role-play you like," he said, reading with a smirk.
Oh, how deep his love could run.
"What I like?" Hawke said, her eyebrows sloping upwards innocently. "What do you like, then?"
"Silence," Fenris said, turning the page.
Tough shit.
"So, this is all for my benefit?" she insisted, grinning.
"No, it's for the Queen of fucking Ferelden," he said sarcastically, not looking up at her.
"Why thank you for the comparison. I am pretty magnificent," she said, biting on her lolly.
He scoffed softly, ignoring her. "A magnificent pain in my arse," he mumbled finally.
Absolutely. He had no idea how much, if he kept disregarding her.
She went behind him, and leaned towards his ear. "But is it really all just for my benefit?" she pushed.
His head came up, just for a second, and he quickly walked away and kept on reading.
"Or is it also for you?" she went on, grinning. He didn't respond. She tilted her head. "Didn't I tell you to do what makes you happy?"
His jaw clenched, his eyes still well within the book. "You don't tell me what to do."
"Well, if you are defying my wishes," she said with mock hurt, softening her voice, "then am I to understand you are doing things for me that make you sad?" she said, raising her eyebrows.
Fenris turned the page. Maker, he was so difficult.
Hawke folded her hands at the back and tilted her head. "You said you like being in my service. That it is a choice." She walked towards him. "Is this role-play part of the service?" she said, smiling.
Not one muscle moved on his face.
She huffed a little, and came behind him, whispering in his ear, "Are you… service topping?"
The handsome owner came in, ruining her moment. He pursed his lips in a smile, and grabbed a fresh stack of Divine Justinia's autobiography.
But as he exited, Fenris continued icing her out.
Hawke looked behind her in the corridor and sucked on her lollipop. "He's pretty hot. I wonder what his cock looks like."
Fenris looked up, and closed the book with a resounding thud.
He put the book down and slowly walked towards her, poker-faced.
Thud, thud, thud.
His right gauntlet softly reached across for her own right gauntlet, as if to raise it. But, out of nowhere, he pulled on it and made her spin around, pushing her into a wall. It was a beam that came out of the wall, blocking the view from the corridor. Loose plaster from a hole under a lamp fell on her, as he locked her wrists together. "What did you say…?" Fenris said softly in her ear.
"I said…" Hawke said, grinning, turning her head sideways. "Do you want to grab a quick bite?"
"Mhm," he said. "I'm very hungry." He locked her wrists with only one hand and made something un-snap behind her. What the fuck? He growled sulkily. His hand caressed her arse, and started searching her. He scoffed. "I knew you'd just be carrying this around," he said, grabbing her good rope from her thigh pocket. The black rope.
"I come prepared," she said, smirking.
For a moment she thought he was going to actually tie her up in the back of a fucking bookstore, but it went only on her right wrist, and he cut it with a knife. "Unlike myself," he said, tying the knot well and tight. "This is will have to do for now, since you seem to be so…" He came close to her ear, his voice sharpening. "…forgetful."
"What did I forget?" she said with a flippant slope of the eyebrows.
He kept her other wrist locked, and took her roped hand and slapped it on the wall in front of her. His red-banded hand stayed on top, and his spiky shoulder pad was digging into hers. "That if I belong to you, you belong to me," he said in a deep voice.
"Oh…" she said, her lips coming near his as she looked at him. "I'll remember now."
"Good," he said, following with a kiss. When he broke it, he still looked cold and mean. "Don't fuck with me."
"Oh, that I'll definitely forget," she said confidently.
"Remember this, then," he said, caressing her arse. It felt oddly like preparation. She looked behind her, and his arm was already in a swing. She flinched and closed her eyes.
Nothing happened.
She opened one eye, looked up at him. He had a dark smirk on his face. "Spanking is for good girls."
"Oh, boy," Hawke said. "A real punishment. How fun."
Fenris brushed her hair, dusted her off quietly, and kept to his word. He went to grab his game and his book.
"Why are you no fun?" Hawke complained, crossing her arms.
"This is fun," Fenris said. He smirked and raised an eyebrow. "For me," he said, walking away.
Back at the till, she was fuming, while he kept staring at a small display of pocket notebooks. It was so hard not to boil. She was so resentful. She hated him. The book and the game were barely sitting on the surface.
You know what?
Fenris saw her preparing to slap his items off the till, but his mean glare stopped her. He took a black leather-bound notebook and placed it on top of his purchase.
"Is that everything?" the owner asked.
"Yes," Fenris said, writing something in the notebook.
"What are you writing?" Hawke asked.
"Wouldn't… you… like… to know…" Fenris said. He looked up at her and closed his eyes, making a shit-eating, fake smile.
Evening, The Pink Door
They went to sit at the back terrace, which was surrounded by a black fence. The walls were a grey stone brick, adorned with climbing ivy. They went to sit at a more secluded table, between two beams. Above there was a display of leaves and flowers and fairy lights. The table and chairs were also black, and in the centre there was a little candle and a plant.
As they waited, Fenris became deeply immersed in the game manual, and forgot about her.
"Are you just going to sit there and read?" Hawke asked, a little annoyed.
"I haven't decided," Fenris said, turning the page.
She growled lowly, glancing around. She snapped her fingers in his face. He became rigid for a second, thinking, then went back to his reading.
She flicked him on the head.
Still nothing?!
"Pay attention to me!" she half-shouted, tapping the table.
Fenris got his notebook out, and wrote something.
"What are you writing?"
"It's a mystery."
"Show me," she said, reaching for it.
"No," he said, closing it and raising it away from her.
She huffed deeply in frustration. "Fine. But pay attention to me."
He suppressed a chuckle, going back to his book. "No."
"Why not?!" she said, irritated. "Is that boring manual really more interesting than me?"
"At this very moment…" he said, smirking a little. "It is."
Hawke leaned back, sighing and scratching the back of her hair in frustration. "You're such a little shit."
Fenris calmly took his notebook out, and wrote something down again.
"Is that what you're writing? That you're a little shit?"
He ignored her.
Eventually, someone came with their food and drinks. She picked up his stout, and immediately he gave her a deadly glare and prepared the notebook.
"Are you keeping record of my misdeeds?" Hawke concluded, grinning like no tomorrow.
"Are you going to do the misdeed?" Fenris said, his pencil at the ready.
She stared at him confidently, and drank from his pint.
He wrote it down.
"You're gonna need a bigger notebook," Hawke said, smirking.
"You don't want to find out what happens when it's full," Fenris said, closing it loudly.
"You'll… tear my arse to pieces with it?" she said, flashing her eyebrows with a grin.
He rested his elbow on the table, and leaned in closer with a piercing look. "Is that what you want?"
"Maybe," she said, smirking innocently.
"No…" he said, narrowing his eyes. "I know what you really want."
"Do you?" she said with a flash of the eyebrows.
"Yes," he said with a dark grin. "But your pride refuses to let you speak it."
"Like yours does when I asked you if you enjoy… this?" she said, looking up and down at him.
He looked down, grinning. "Tell me the truth and I will tell you the truth," he said, looking up at her.
"I asked you first."
"I'd rather have the last word."
Oh? Good.
"Fine," she said, grinning. "I like getting a rise out of you."
"Evidently…" he said, raising a sharp eyebrow. "But why?"
"It's fun," she said, shaking her head. "It's just… very, very fun."
The staring match continued, and it was marvellous. She had his attention now. "Why?" he pressed.
"I don't know. Why must you intellectualise this?" she shot back, crossing her arms.
He looked away, thinking. "Because it's interesting," he said, looking back at her. "Why?"
She scoffed, pressing her tongue inside her cheek and shaking her head.
"Do you enjoy seeing me angry?" Fenris said, his eyelids tightening on the last word.
Hawke grinned, biting on her lip. "You do make angry look fun."
"Why?" he pressed.
She shrugged.
"I know…" Fenris said. He gave a small, smug lift of the eyebrows. "Do you?"
"Let's hear it, detective."
He beckoned to her ear. She came in closer.
"Excuse me. Are you Lady Hawke?" a young lanky nobleman with wavy brown hair asked, followed by his… brother?
"Why yes. Who's asking?" she said, crossing her legs and resting her elbow on the back of the chair.
"Damian Lancaster, at your service," the nobleman said, kissing her hand, which made her want to punch him in the face. It wasn't his fault. It was just custom. The imaginary punch sufficed. "This is my friend, Gideon Vale."
"Lancaster," Hawke said, thinking. "Tell your dad to stop harassing me with ball invitations."
Damian laughed. "That won't stop him," he said, tapping the top of the empty chair. "May I have a minute of your time?"
"It had better be a worthwhile minute," she said, holding on her wrist.
"I wanted to thank you for your bravery and sacrifice in Lowtown, my lady," Damian said, sitting down. "I've heard you had a tough time recovering."
"I bounced back quickly thanks to someone," Hawke said, winking at Fenris. But he didn't look happy at all.
"You've made quite a name for yourself, my lady. We're very impressed."
"The dread Fereldan taking over Kirkwall."
"Yes," Damian said, laughing. "The Lancasters lost their noble title, too, you know. My mother managed to elevate us five years ago."
"Oh? What did you do before that?"
"We were Lowtowners, just like you. We still own the apothecary there."
"As well as other things now, I presume."
"A few," Damian said, chuckling. He folded his hands and looked down at them. "My father is a good man, but he lacks perspective. He invited you because he too is against the Templars."
"And that's a lack of perspective to you?"
"No. I'm quite the same, in that respect. I don't like tyranny, and this is personal, too. Do you have any idea the kind of hoops we have to jump through to import medicine because it 'looks like lyrium'?"
"I hadn't given it much thought."
"My father wanted to ally with you. He wants to found a clinic in Hightown and have Circle mages sent for healing apprenticeships to work alongside surgeons."
"That… sounds amazing," Hawke said, thinking. "How's that lacking perspective?"
"I think it's a great idea, but it's not one I'd go with right now," Damian said, drawing circles on the table. "Kirkwall's inflation is through the roof, its infrastructure is a graveyard, and so is our tourism since the Qunari," he said, looking up. "The more isolated we become, the more the Templars can do whatever they want. I heard this year's Kirkwall Independence ball won't even have a Circle performance." Damian shook his head. "It's all just… so very bad for business."
"Who wants to go to a national celebration without fire and ice dragons?" Hawke said, resting her head against her hand.
"Exactly," Damian said. He looked down. "I want my father to achieve his dream, but in order for that to happen, we need to clean up Kirkwall well and good."
Praise Andraste, the youth will save this city. "What do you have in mind?"
"We need to make Kirkwall as good as any Orlesian city," Damian said passionately. "Where even downtown is colourful and lively and inviting. Someone comes here for a visit, they're done with Hightown in a day, and they won't brave Lowtown. It's not keeping our inns in business. I think we should have a public task force, convince the Keep to incentivise artists to beautify Kirkwall, get the Lowtowners to help with construction. But in order to gain an audience, we must have at least half of the landlords on our side, which is the tricky part."
"I don't own buildings in Lowtown," Hawke said.
"But you could," Damian said, smiling. "The buildings that were affected by the terrorist attack are in trouble. A lot of tenants left, and no one wants to live there now. They say it's all 'tainted by madness'."
"Qamek doesn't linger in the walls," Fenris intervened. "It has a short half-life."
"I'm sure it's all just mass hysteria," Damian said, smiling. "The buildings' prices have tanked, and the landlords are delusional about it. I want to buy them out. Are you perhaps interested?"
"To buy with me, or sell to me?"
"To buy with you. Or instead of me," Damian said, laughing. "I'm not sure how wealthy you are."
Not quite wealthy enough to buy more real estate. Otherwise, she would have bought Fenris's mansion in a blink of an eye, and she'll have told him… on her death bed?
"And what do you intend to do with the buildings?"
"A new coat of paint and all, to take the 'madness' away. Then we rent to whomever. Humans, elves, dwarves. There are more and more dwarves coming to the surface, and they either bring good money or they eventually make good money."
"So, really, there won't be any elves, because the rent would be too high," Fenris said.
"The rent has to be affordable. The more new faces in Lowtown, the more chances for young enterprising people such as yourself to make a name," Damian said, smirking at Hawke. "Wouldn't you agree?"
"Look at you. Disappointing capitalism in its infancy," Hawke said, chuckling. But he wasn't really. He just had an eye for the big picture. He just wanted the tourism money, and that surface dwarf clout.
"Capitalism has always existed. It just keeps changing image," Damian said, scoffing. "If you go to the right professors—historians, anthropologists—they will tell you capitalism is just a transformation of the institution of slavery, from which it emerged, after all."
Hawke gave Fenris a quick glance. His arms couldn't get any more crossed. She decided it was time to cut it short. "Minute's long gone. I don't have time for intellectual debates."
"Of course," Damian said, smiling and touching his knees. "Think it over, yes?"
"I will give it a good, hard think," Hawke said, pursing her lips.
"Ask her the other thing," Gideon said, stopping Damian from standing up.
"No," Damian said tersely.
"What other thing?" Hawke said.
Damian chuckled nervously, caressing his neck. "It's nothing."
"If you don't, I will," Gideon threatened.
"Like Void you will," Damian said, raising his voice. He looked back at her. "Are you betrothed, Lady Hawke?"
"She's mine," Fenris said gruffly. "Get lost."
She could hear the stirring in her loins loud and clear.
Hawke smiled. "What he said."
"Ah, shame," Damian said, looking down. He stood up. "Sorry to disturb your evening. I shall wait for your letter, yes?"
"Byeee," Hawke said, very pleased with herself. She looked back at Fenris, whose notebook was on the table. "No notes?"
"That depends," Fenris said sharply, resting an elbow on the table. "Were you wondering what his cock looked like?"
"No," Hawke said, pursing her lips and shrugging. "I don't like eager kiss-arses."
"No?" Fenris said. "What do you like, then?"
Hawke grinned and leaned over. He crossed his arms on the table and tilted his ear at the ready. "I like handsome, taciturn guys who tell people to get lost."
"Hm," Fenris said, grinning. "Serendipity."
Hawke leaned back, resting her elbow on the top of the chair. "Seems like this will happen a lot more often now that I'm 'famous'," she said, smiling playfully.
Fenris smiled a little. "I am more than happy to tell each and every one to fuck off."
"Good," Hawke said, looking up and thinking. "It gets so tedious, doesn't it?"
"It does, but…" Fenris said, thinking. "I like saying 'no'. I think it may be my favourite word."
"Yeah… even to me," Hawke said, looking down and raising her eyebrows.
Fenris grinned. "Especially to you."
"Aw, come on…" Hawke said, curling her shoulders flirtatiously. "I can be good."
He raised an eyebrow, going back to his food. "You've been… a little better."
She folded her hands on her right shoulder, resting her chin on top. "It makes me want to be so very good when you get all stern and self-possessed and… handsy," she said, flashing her eyebrows. "My pussy's all wet."
He choked on his food, and started coughing. She laughed.
"A little louder, maybe?" he said, ignoring her and eating. "I don't think that guy at the other end of the terrace heard you."
"Oops," she said, putting a hand over her mouth. "I get carried away. It's so hard to have command over myself when you're around."
He was starting to warm up, seemed to be listening, despite not looking at her.
She leaned in, and his ear obliged. "You make me a little crazy," she whispered.
He raised an eyebrow, as if to continue.
"I've been working all day, but I'm so… distracted. Not for one second could I stop thinking of you."
He wanted more.
"All I could think about…" she said, brushing a finger over her lower lip, "…is that growl… when you fuck my mouth…"
He inhaled.
"…with that big…"
The eyebrow rose.
"…hard…"
The eyebrow went up even further.
"… world-ending cock."
Fenris inhaled, and quickly turned to look at her. His eyes were nearly black, and his hand went around the back of her hair. "Get your arse back to my place."
Hawke grinned evilly. "Make me."