TW: Racism, misogyny

It was quiet on the way out; so quiet you could almost hear the flowers, tiny droplets sliding down the windows. Fenris curled up into himself as they walked out, holding his potions to his chest. His eyes were empty, far away.

"Let me take those for you," Hawke said, but he didn't budge. "Hey," she said softly, a hand on his shoulder.

He didn't speak, let alone look in her direction. He looked like a broken child. A drop of rain went in his eyes, startling him, and he became angry.

"Follow me," she said, taking his hand.

She dragged him along the nearest street alley. There were a few people around.

"Beat it," Hawke said sternly, revealing the sword under her coat.

When the folks left, she hugged Fenris and his potions. He lowered his head, and he was trembling.

"It's okay," she said softly, petting his hair and rubbing his back. She raised his fluffy hood over his head. "Let it out."

He started shaking and sobbing, and she pushed his head down on her shoulder. Finally, he broke down, and his arms wrapped around her shoulders tightly. She caught a potion awkwardly in her hand, one between her knees; the third was lost somewhere. She put them in her pockets and hugged him back. "There, there… Things are terrible, but I am here…"

"I'm broken," Fenris said on her shoulder, in barely more than a whisper.

It was nothing new, for either of them. He'd always known, and had said it before in so many elegant and self-aware words. And yet it hit so very differently now, she could barely hold her tears back. He was saying it from the heart.

"You're brave," Hawke said, tightening her arms around him.

"What bravery?" he snapped, his tone incredibly disapproving. "I'm a fucking mess," he said weakly, sobbing.

"It's okay to be broken, and it's brave to cry," she said, rocking him. "There's no shame in that."

His grip tightened around her, though he was trembling. His hand went in her hair, almost pulling on it, and his breath hitched in his throat.

"You should leave me…" he said. The words made a horrible pit in her stomach, and her chest tightened. "I'm not worth it."

Another painful pang moved through her. She ached at his words. Breaking up was a painful thought, but what hurt the most was the way he saw himself—bad, defective, unworthy. It wasn't the truth.

"I should slap you, but one thing at a time…" she said without much thought.

He shook his head in her shoulder. "I'm not good for you," he said, his voice breaking again.

"What don't you understand, Fen Fen?" she said, taking his face so he'd look at her. "I love you just the way you are," she said, wiping his tears with her thumb. "After today, I love you even more. I'm very proud of you."

He was shaking his head, his eyebrows sloping upwards. "You're just saying that because I'm upset," he said, looking away.

"I'll say it every day, because it's true!" Hawke said, raising her voice. "You're a beautiful, funny, loving, terrifying man and I want to be with you! I'm not afraid of that. And you shouldn't be either."

He was going to cry again. He looked away. "Let's leave," he said frantically. "Let's go to The Laughing Fox. I'll make you feel good."

"No," she said sternly, pulling him back to her. "You're going to sit with this pain." Her arms crossed around his shoulders as she took in a big breath. "I'm going to hold it here with you."

"I… I can't," he stammered softly.

"You can!" she insisted. "You're a master of pain. You're the strongest person I know. Pain needs to be felt. I know you can do it. Release it!"

And just like that, he did. His head sank into her chest, his nails digging into the back of her coat. Despite his hood falling, he let it all out. Eleven years of feeling broken.

"I've got you," she said, putting the hood back over his hair.

It took all her strength to keep her voice from breaking, but the tears escaped her even so. She held his head there, feeling his pain, all of it. It travelled through her body, through every vein and nerve ending, as if the world was ending. The lack of choice, the lack of love, the lack of respect for his body and his mind, the nerve-burning torture that rudely welcomed him into the world, the emptiness where his memories should have been, the incredible loneliness he felt. It flooded her and she felt she was dying. Her heart was screaming to save him from the harm, yet she fought that feeling with all she had. He was just falling apart in her arms.

Terrible though it might have been, she felt herself falling deeper in love with him than ever. There was no pity, no embarrassment, no sense of losing respect. Quite the opposite. There was unbelievable strength in vulnerability, in coming undone, and she admired him for it.

Afternoon, The Laughing Fox

Fenris woke in her arms. After everything, he'd become so very tired. He'd just crashed into bed, coat and everything. But now he felt calm and peaceful. Her leg was over him, as if to keep him safe. He took her hand to his chest, stroking it with his thumb.

He felt her kissing his head. "Did you sleep?" he said.

"A little," she said. "Mostly daydreamed."

He kissed her hand, and turned around, embracing her. Her leg went between his. His nose was in her nose, and he closed his eyes, pressing the tip on hers from left to right. "What did you daydream about?"

"Just a lazy Sunday afternoon…" she said, brushing his bangs. "Feeding birds, reading by the fire, taking a bath together..."

He closed his eyes, picturing it. A day of blissful domesticity. "That sounds nice…" he said, his eyelids rising languidly.

"Yeah?" she said softly, coming up a little as she played with his hair. She had a nice jumper on, dark grey and a little loose, but tighter as it ended around her waist; it had blue, red, orange and yellow narrow stripes. He looked up at her with a smile, her other hand brushing up his arm and landing on his shoulder.

"Yes," he whispered. He caressed her back and hip, bringing her closer, bringing her down to his lips. It was so very cosy, and he liked getting his head stroked, and to have her soft hand brushing gently down his chest, as if it were simple, that she had him.

"Of course, we'd need to take Mojo out," she said, her head going snugly on his shoulder.

"You can take him in the morning while I make food," he said, petting her hair. "Then we can take him out together in the evening."

"Aww," she said, looking up at him with a smile. It was warm and infectious, and so, so beautiful.

"Whatever you wish," he said, kissing her forehead.

"We can do that next Sunday," she offered, closing her eyes, her hand on his cheek. "Mum will be in Orlais."

"Playing house?" he said with a little smile. He was so tired, but the thought made him hopeful.

"It wouldn't be the first time," she said, her eyebrow rising playfully, though she did not open her eyes. She had winged eyeliner, which on her big, slightly downturned eyes looked heart-stopping and adorable.

You have a future, friend, the boring band-aid bath guy said.

Gladly walk into it at her side, the poet said.

Show her you're the king of husbands, the gruff one said.

Make her feel like a queen, the hard-up grinning lunatic said.

Domna miri solia, his intuition said. Lady, beautiful, of the sun.

Because you're worth it, the red band said.

Something happened to him again. Warm waves washed over him, willing his body up. No more need to be embraced or comforted. He wanted to see her laugh and let go.

So, he sat up, leaning against the headboard, one leg over the other. With a gentle smile and gesture, he invited her to put her head on his lap. She laid down sideways on the bed, her red hair in waves on his thighs. He lightly scratched the top of her bangs. "An official first time."

"Alright," she said, laughing. She was enjoying the head scritches, closing her eyes. "An 'official' first time."

He smiled and sat up, looming over her as his other hand brushed gently up her jaws. Her greenish hazel eyes flickered under his shadow, and he pressed a kiss on her bow-shaped lips. To his pleasure, her hand went in his hair again as he pulled down on her jaw and found her tongue.

When his hand went from her jaws to her neck and down her tits, she broke the kiss. Her hand made a little fist near her face, her eyes big and innocent.

"What's wrong?" he said softly.

"I uhm…" she said, her pretty eyes moving to the side. "I don't want to ruin the moment, but I don't want the other kind of 'official' first time in a strange place," she said. She blinked tiredly. "And on a cheap bed."

Hah! Who did she think he was? Isabela?

His hand went on her cute little fist, breaking it apart as his fingers intertwined in hers, and he kissed her again. He held the back of her head as his legs came out from under her, and he placed it gently on the bed, going on top of her. He caressed her cheek, kissing her some more, but she felt tense under him.

"I have unofficial business with you," he said, undoing her trousers. He came off the bed, pulling her to the edge suddenly, and away they went.

There was a mix of emotions on her face as she sat up on her hands. "Oh… kay," she said, smiling, loosening up.

"Take off your panties," he said, taking a step back. "Slowly."

"You sure like ordering me around as of late," Hawke said with a playful smirk, crossing her legs and leaning back on her hands.

"Are we going to be difficult?" Fenris said, raising a disapproving eyebrow as he took off his coat.

She bit halfway on her lower lip, her eyes moving away as she shrugged playfully. Her hair was falling down that cute jumper, around her perky breasts. He could feel himself growing. He tried to resist his urges and focus on shutting down the brat, quick and painless.

But his eyes still faltered on her beauty, and she saw that. She kept biting on that very kissable lip, and started pulling down her panties with such unnatural slowness it made his jaw clench.

He looked at the clock. He had no time for that.

He grabbed her ankle, taking her by surprise, and pushed that fluffy striped sock up his cock; it was getting ready to poke out of his leggings. Her eyebrows soared, her eyelids falling halfway, and the colour bloomed in her cheeks. He pulled up his juniper green ribbed jumper, her foot sending prickles up his cock. He exhaled confidently, throwing the jumper in her face. She flinched, her leg falling to the floor. He walked up to her as she was busy pulling off the jumper, taking her by the knees and spreading them apart. He came down in her face, grinning and brushing gently up her thighs.

"Do you really want to waste your time resisting this, when you can just…" he said, his hands tightening on the very top of her inner thighs as his lips went up her neck without touching it. "… have it?" he whispered, devil-may-care.

Her legs began to tremble under him. She was smelling the earthy oil in his hair, which had a tender flower undertone. When he saw that and grinned with a flash of the eyebrow, she looked away and chuckled.

"Hm?" he said with a smile, his nose in hers. He grabbed her bum and pulled her to the very edge of the bed. She flinched and laughed, and he grabbed her elbows and brushed up her arms. He pulled her shoulders to him as he stared into her. "Are you going to be good?"

"Yes, Fen Fen," she said, chuckling with delight as he pushed her down on the bed by her shoulders.

"Let's see it," he said with a smile. He pulled back, standing upright and crossing his arms in wait.

Her tongue was pressing inside her cheek, but it came out light-heartedly between her teeth in the end. Who said he needed to be hard and intimidating? He could be soft as a feather and she still gave in.

She crossed her legs up high, taking off her panties. His heart fluttered with the sight; the wonderful shape of her bottom and that pink little pussy between her thick thighs. He rushed to her and grabbed the back of her knees, kissing and biting up her legs. "Good girl," he said, pulling her knees apart and descending upon her in a passionate kiss, both his hands in hers on the bed.

He was going to get her nice and ready before he went down on her. He was overly confident, grinding long and deep against her, but she liked it too much. Her tits were bouncing against him and her legs coiled around his waist. Now he liked it too much. Every fibre of his being was fired up to enter her. A growl escaped him in her mouth, and he stopped. He bit down her neck and pulled her jumper up, squeezing her breasts together. He licked her nipples, side to side, watching her beam. She grabbed his naked upper arms, and he shuddered from the shock, but in the end, he wanted more of it. She was very expressive and breathless, just how he liked it. But her thighs closed in on him, pulling him so very close.

He couldn't.

"Is that being good?" he said sternly, pulling her knees apart. Finally, his cock could breathe. It was starting to have an existential crisis!

She covered her mouth with her fists, her eyes big and guilty. "I got carried away."

He could forgive her. It wasn't entirely her fault. But where was the fun in that?

"I will say it again…" he told her in a deep voice. He pulled her legs up together by the back of her knees and spanked her. A softer, playful one. He tried not to smile. "Is that being good?"

"I'm sorry," she said, stifling her laughter with her fists.

He pulled her legs down, turning her over suddenly and locking her wrists together at the back.

"Is that—"

BAM!

"—being—"

BAM!

"—good?"

BAM!

She moaned with every spank, her nails in the mattress. "Nooo!" she cried.

"That's better," he said, raising her knees up on the bed. He grabbed her beautiful bum and buried his tongue along her pussy. He missed the taste of her so much. Sweet and fragrant, like a warm and wonderful flower.

"Fuck," she whispered, pulling on the duvet.

She may have liked his tongue, but the position was suboptimal for the calligraphy he was intending upon her. He turned around, sitting on the floor and squeezing his head between her thighs. The words "I love you" had been stuck in his throat for weeks, but his tongue had no issue painting the picture, figuratively and literally. He grabbed her hips and she sat up. She was gasping and shuddering, a hand in his hair. He brushed up her back, then down again over her arse as he licked every letter into her, repeating the ones that made her shake, pulling her hips into it.

Unlike him, she loved being touched. She needed to be touched, needed to be grabbed, needed the close contact. It made her feel wanted, she'd said, and he wanted her every day.

He moved her hips powerfully on his silent confession, and she was starting to tremble like mad, sucking on her lower lip, her head falling back. She felt wanted alright.

He stopped, kissing her inner thighs and waiting with a smile. Previous experience had taught him to pause or at least pace after she orgasmed. He'd thought he was the king because she'd be moaning and near yelling, crawling away from him, but as it turned out, that was not a good sign.

He came upright, and pushed her torso back down on the bed, brushing along her back. His middle and ring finger pulled her pussy lips apart and sank down inside her. She made a big gasp, her head turning to look at him.

"Hands together at the back," he ordered.

She did as he said, and he grabbed her wrists. Her eyes were pressing shut, and she was biting her lip, but there was a smile there, and it was growing bigger with every thrust. He brushed her hair away and grabbed the back of her neck, the fingers on his right hand curling and pushing down on the glorious spot. To say it was an exquisite sight, the way the slopes of her bum writhed against him while her body narrowed further away, was simply an understatement. The only downside was he couldn't altogether see her facial expressions, though her sounds clued him in. Finally, he saw her turning her head on the side, unable to keep her eyes open, unable to keep her mouth closed, her tongue on her lower lip just staying there with no more thought or plan—her tell she'd crossed over to the dimension of pure bliss. So, his other hand went off her neck and down the front of her waist, rubbing her clit. His tricep readied for a ploughing she wouldn't forget. She groaned louder and louder, and soon she splashed all over his hand, shaking against him.

Finally, he saw it. Well, felt it. Well, now he tasted it. It was also quite sweet.

"Forget the Grand Tourney," she said, laughing. "You're the champion!

He felt like he was flying. But it wasn't enough. He wanted to see everything, so he turned her facing up, spread her legs and pushed her thighs back and forth as he licked her pussy with a passion. She was resting on her elbows, her eyes glazing over him, her face so very flushed. He thought he couldn't get any happier seeing her moan and cry and roll her eyes back, but when his fingers went back inside her, the flood hit him right in the face. He was blinded!

"Well," he said, laughing as he wiped his eye and stood up. "That makes up for the times I've missed it."

"Enjoy," she said, sitting up on her knees with a laugh. Then she lay down on her abdomen, her hands folding down the edge of the bed, her calves up in a criss-cross.

"What are you doing, naughty girl?" he said with a grin, pulling her chin up.

"I was just getting ready to apologise for how mean I was this morning," she said, blinking and twinkling. Her calves rocked from side to side.

"True…" he said, raising an eyebrow. He petted her hair, brushing down her cheek. "How are you going to apologise?"

She sat up on all fours, planting kisses on his balls, through his trousers, looking up at him.

"That's a start…" he said, his eyes moving with a silent command to continue. She unbuttoned his trousers with an excited smile, biting her lip. When his shaft fell with a heaviness to greet her, she lay down again and rubbed along the hardness slowly, leaving more sensual kisses on his balls. He closed his eyes, exhaling with a smile. It felt so very nice, but he wanted more. He opened his eyes and sank his fingers at the back of her hair. "Open wide, adorae," he said, holding his cock.

So, she did, flashing her eyebrows and holding her tongue out. A sight so very inviting, let alone how she gazed up at him. He pulled her head back and forth as he fucked her mouth, then took his dick out and slapped her with it. He didn't really think, but then again, she didn't really mind, so he did it again. Her lips clamped around him again, going to town passionately by herself.

His second wind was gone… He was so very tired. He stopped her and sat down on the bed next to her, resting on his elbows. He petted her hair, pulled it to the side so he could see. The soft fabric of the sweater brushed against his abdomen as her arm extended over it, bending to cup his balls. He could feel her nipples brushing on him as the shape of his cock dug into her cheek. She sucked him harder, and he couldn't be in charge anymore... He let himself fall back entirely, biting on his index finger, brushing up his bangs. Her tongue was working ceaseless circles on the tip, while she stroked him up and down, building marvellous momentum. He rested his head under his arm, the other going over his forehead. The moans stuck in his throat finally ran free. It was too much, yet he didn't want it to stop. He felt it all coming even so, shudders turning into growls. His hips thrust up with the shock against the roof of her mouth, filling her up.

"Are you okay?" he heard say with a laugh. His arm was over his eyes. He was done.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, a knee-jerk reaction. He felt her head on his shoulder, and his arm went around her. "I'm excellent," he corrected, kissing her forehead and breathing out.

Meanwhile, Ham Marks The Spot

After a good shopping session, Donnic and Aveline went for a late lunch. Donnic was excited and all smiles, while Aveline seemed to be forcing hers.

"Are you going to tell me why you're so sad?" Donnic said at the table.

Aveline sighed, cupping her pint with both hands. "It's nothing."

"It's something," Donnic said softly, tilting his head as he looked into her eyes. He took her hand. "It's alright. You can tell me anything."

"I don't want to," Aveline said, her eyebrows sloping upwards in a sad expression. She looked away, then back at him. "I'm just… I'm trying to live in the present. I'm trying to have a good time."

"I can see you've been trying," Donnic said patiently. "It must be frustrating."

Aveline looked down, nodding. Her shoulders relaxed. "Very much so."

"Is it me? Have I done something to upset you?" Donnic asked.

"No," Aveline said quickly, shaking her head. She inhaled, consulting her thoughts. She sighed. "Wesley and I used to come here. I just… I hadn't realised it would stir up old memories."

"Oh," Donnic said, stroking her hand. "I get that."

"It's not right," Aveline said sternly.

"It's not wrong…" Donnic said softly, his shoulders rising. "You're only human."

"Mortal," Aveline corrected, raising her index finger lazily. "If Hawke or, Maker forbid Fenris was within ear shot, he'd bite your head off."

Donnic chuckled. "Maybe I deserve it."

"No…" Aveline whined cutely, her hand going on top of his. "Who's going to read me the news in the morning and rub my back in the evening?"

Donnic laughed, but he tried not to let her deflect. She seemed overly concerned with 'loss' as of late, though she'd pass it off as a joke. "I know it's not my place, but you can talk about it with me. I mean half the stress is just being alone with your thoughts, right?"

"I need to talk to Hawke," Aveline said, sighing and rubbing her forehead. "But shit just keeps coming up."

Donnic felt frustrated. He just wanted to have a nice weekend away with his favourite lady, but she was being weird and she wasn't letting him in. But he felt if he showed his frustration, she'd shut off entirely. "I'm sure I can take Fenris away from her so you can talk."

Aveline scoffed. "Good luck."

Afternoon, The Old Town Market

Those were some dangerous swirling narrow streets through the booming market. People were just walking in the road as if they didn't give a shit if they lived or died. But it was a nice sight as they passed bookshops and colourful crafting stores. They found Aveline and Donnic in a deli nearby, and they got a take-out as there was little time to linger.

But when they heard the raspy howls of political town-criers trying to gather an audience, it gave them pause. There was a Chantry missionary disparaging the surge of elven 'criminal scum' setting up shops in Markham 'outside their bounds'. People could almost hear Fenris's eye rolls. The Sister's adversary, on the other wall, was decrying the Chantry for weakening their men and inspiring 'females' to take over the world. He was urging men to rise up and take 'the red potion'.

Aveline scowled at Hawke for chewing nonchalantly and not paying attention.

"What?" Hawke said with her mouth full. "I'm on vacation. I don't need this shit."

"The other one's trashing your partner right in front you, and you're just going to stand there?" Aveline said, incensed.

"Wait. Am I supposed to start shouting?" Donnic said, scratching his head.

"I can fight my own battles," Fenris said, cracking his neck.

"So can I," Aveline said, starting to walk.

"Wait…" Donnic said with a squint of the eyes, making a barrier with his arm. "Let's make this interesting. Why don't you take on the racist, while he takes on the misogynist?" he said to Aveline.

Hawke snorted, covering her mouth as she chewed. "This I've got to see."

Aveline went to the Chantry missionary, the others following her through the crowd.

"Just the other day I saw another pastry shop with centuries of tradition close down, and what came in its place? A bloody herbalist's run by a bored house elf who slept his way into a magistrate's good graces. What is happening to this city? How can you stand for this? Their wicked ways threaten our Maker-fearing way of life!" the missionary said with pathos.

"Is his product illegal?" Aveline said, raising her voice.

"Of course he sells illegal mind-altering plants under the table. How else could he possibly stay in business?" the Sister said. "He's taking advantage of our youth!"

"Do you have any evidence?" Aveline said, unimpressed.

"He's an elf! It's how they are!" the Sister orated.

"Sounds like you're just a bored racist Sister that's about to get excommunicated," Aveline said with crossed arms.

"Oh, pish posh. I've heard the likes of you before crying racism, but that's just a tactic. There's no racism here. Separate, but equal, is the Chantry's Maker-given stance!" she shouted to the crowd. "They have their end of town, we have ours!"

"So, you just want them to stay poor and exiled with no prospects, then conveniently deplore them for the rampant crime," Aveline said calmly. "But if they open up a proper business and contribute to society, they're corrupting our youth and it's the end the world. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. I'd say that's a tactic as old as time."

"Inequality is a social construct designed to weaken the minds of those meant to dominate the social hierarchy!" the Sister maintained.

"Yeah, yeah," Aveline said, waving it off and holding her chin. "Do you even have a permit?"

"I have my Maker-given right to free speech, young lady!" the older Sister said proudly.

"Don't 'young lady' me. I am the Captain of the Kirkwall Guard!" Aveline said, very self-possessed. She looked at the shy Markham guards loitering around and revealed her City Guard seal. "Does she even have a permit? Is that how the Guard does it in Markham? They just stand around with their dicks in their hands, worried they'll offend some old ladies?"

The guards whispered to each other, looking tenser by the minute. Aveline's presence was making this show a public relations nightmare. They must have decided looking weak to another city's militia was more ominous than letting the Chantry skate by, so they asked the Sister to show her permit. She didn't have one, as Aveline suspected, and they gently gestured for her to cease her performance. The Sister cried that she was being silenced as Aveline smiled proudly with crossed arms.

"Good one, Captain," Hawke said, patting her on the back.

"That's my girl," Donnic said proudly, taking her by the hip.

They looked to the side. "Where's Fen Fen?" Hawke said, confused.

"Shopping?" Donnic said, pointing behind them. His white head was in a window in a crockery shop.

Moments passed, and he came out.

"What in Andraste's name is he wearing?" Aveline said tiredly.

Hawke descended into a fit of cackling and giggling, bending forward and holding her tummy.

Fenris came to them in an apron over his armour. An apron with a smiley turquoise cupcake embroidery with a little pink heart at the tip. The words below said, I'm going to eat you alive. He was very poker-faced.

"I can't…" Hawke said, sitting on a bench to steady her breathing.

Donnic smacked his lips. He tried to find words. "It's uh… so not you, and yet… so very you?"

"You look ridiculous," Aveline said flatly.

"Would you excuse me," Fenris said, moving past them. They followed him through the other crowd to the misogynist, who apparently had a permit. He just stood there in the front, in his apron.

The crier was in the midst of a speech about the degenerate soft men of this generation. Fenris took Hawke's hand and just listened, which confused her. It wasn't long until the man waved towards Fenris for the crowd to behold as the example of weakness.

"Look at the audacity! The woman put him in an apron, while she wears the armour!" the male supremacist said. "And you wonder why there are so many suicides! It's either submit to the woman and essentially become one, or die alone. It's not right!"

"Of course," Fenris said. "Nothing to do with how we're encouraged not to show any emotion, but go to the local watering hole instead and speak with our fists."

"That's not our place, son. Emotions are for females," the male supremacist said. "Men have no time for that. Our place is to watch over them and protect them."

"You know a great way to protect females?" Fenris said with half-lidded eyes. "Getting your shit together and not taking your frustrations out on them."

"You are deluded, friend!" the male supremacist said, holding out the 'red potion'. "They have brain-washed you with their wellness crap and their scented candles and their new-wave equality hogwash! Wake up! They're ruling the fucking world, while you're stuck at home packing lunches and wiping butts! How can you call yourself a man?"

Fenris was very amused. He stepped forward, going at his side. "How can I? You're right," he said, holding out his hand.

"That's my boy!" the man said proudly, shaking his hand as the crowd of men cheered. "You have a long way to go, but we'll—"

The man started whimpering as Fenris took his thumb mid-shake and made him kneel.

"What would hurt your pride less right now?" Fenris said. "That you kneeled to a 'woman', a soft boy or a man?"

"Alright, that's enough," Aveline said, laughing. "You'll get yourself arrested."

"I was just doing our secret handshake," Fenris said nonchalantly, putting the thumb back in the man's socket.

Hawke was horny, and wanted to send a message to the crowd. So when Fenris came back, she wrapped herself around him and gave him a kiss for the century.

Late afternoon, The Markham Arena

In the very long and loud queue across the front gardens surrounded by pavilions and porticoes, Fenris still wore his apron. Aveline's sighs grew louder the nearer they got to the entrance stand.

"So… starting a new trend?" Donnic said.

"Do you want to die in there?" Aveline said disapprovingly.

"Sure," Fenris said, ignoring her. "I'm a trend setter."

"And what's your trend?" Hawke said, chuckling as she held his hand.

Fenris shrugged, looking up and thinking. "Sexy househusband."

"And then some," Hawke said, smirking.

"Sexiness aside, they will kill you in there," Aveline said. "Trust me, these drunkards get so riled up during the game it's crazy."

"Have you forgotten I can rip people's hearts out of their chests?" Fenris said.

"There will be no heart-ripping on my watch," Aveline said sternly.

Suddenly, someone banged their weapon on the ground. It was coming from the entrance stand. A gigantic Tal-Vashoth with horns for days, an eye patch and stripy purple and green pantaloons held his greataxe and complained. A human man that was with him was being searched.

"Hey now, I got a pre-paid deluxe ticket and no one said anything about leaving weapons at the door," the Tal-Vashoth said.

"Messere, it's arena policy," the employee said.

"Well, it's a stupid policy," the Tal-Vashoth said.

"Come now, chief, the man's got a point," his buddy said, who sounded weirdly Tevinter.

"Point, no point. I'm not leaving my baby with these people!" the Tal-Vashoth said, incensed.

Aveline face-palmed. "You see what I'm talking about? If you end up sitting next to that guy when his champion loses, he'll make you eat your apron."

"I don't know," Fenris said. "He seems to like Tevinters."

"Shut your Vint ass. The grown-ups are talking," the Tal-Vashoth said to his buddy.

"Or… not?" Fenris said with a raised eyebrow.

"Make your political fashion statement back in Kirkwall, where I can actually protect you," Aveline said.

Fenris looked at her. "No."

Donnic scoffed. "It's not a statement. He likes it."

"I needed an apron," Fenris said, shrugging. "And it's funny."

"It's hilarious," Hawke said, laughing. "I love it!"

"Well, you've got balls, I'll give you that," Donnic said, chuckling.

"Hey, watch it with the hands," the Tal-Vashoth threatened the bouncer, who was still searching his friend. "This ain't a brothel."

Suddenly a female knight with short black hair, a scar on her face and rosy purple armour cut the line and was let in by the bouncers, which made the Tal-Vashoth complain even more.

"Yeah, that's not fair," Donnic said softly, crossing his arms.

"Maybe she's a player?" Fenris said.

"This entrance is for viewers, and she's giving up her weapon," Aveline said.

"Well, either way, I hope all the players look like her," Hawke said unthinkingly, watching her leave.

Donnic and Aveline gave her funny looks. Hawke glanced over her shoulder and saw Fenris writing in his notebook. "Yeah, I'll be paying for that later," she said, pursing her lips.

Markham could call it an arena all they wanted, but this was a colosseum. The gardens in the front, the artificial ponds, the vast ancient structures—it was as Tevinter as it could get. There may have been modern renovations to the entrance and the inner stadium, they may have slapped Markham heraldry over the dragons and serpents, they may have called the vomitoria 'game doors', but Fenris wasn't fooled.

He felt uncomfortable, and he didn't know why. It wasn't like he was back there. The only time he was in a colosseum was up in a balcony guarding Danarius as he watched a play. A very boring play too.

He should have felt excited, because he was going of his own accord, with his own money, about to watch a lot of fair, physical combat, just how he liked it. And yet an eerie feeling was rising in his chest the closer he got to the battle grounds. Why did it feel so familiar?

The long, benched seats were covered by purple awnings, surrounded by stairs and towering torches. To his dismay, he was sitting next to the angry Tal-Vashoth, now separated from his weapon. He was mumbling and grunting, and he wolfed down all the sausage rolls from the wandering food salesman. Then he drank all the ale from the drinks guy. The pint was so small in his hand it looked like he was sipping from a teacup. But it seemed to calm him down.

"Look on the bright side, chief," his Tevinter friend said, who sat at the edge. "You're still three times bigger than everyone else here."

"I'm not threatened, Krem," the Tal-Vashoth said, folding his hands in front of his face. "It's just not right."

"Everyone else had to give up their weapon. Even the fancy lady knight," Krem said, opening a beer bottle he'd been hiding. "It doesn't get fairer than that in Thedas."

Fenris didn't want to intervene, but the pair was so intriguing and out of place he spoke despite himself. "Qunari do not part with their weapons," he said. "I am not one myself, but I understand his frustration. My sword was a gift."

"What's he doing?" he heard Aveline complain.

The Tal-Vashoth looked at him and his apron. A fist came at him, and stopped mid-air. "Respect," he said in a deep voice.

Fenris fist-bumped him, poker-faced.

"The Iron Bull," the Tal-Vashoth said proudly.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. "The… Silver Scarecrow."

Bull laughed. "I can see it," he said, scanning him with interest. "Hey, you seeing anybody?"

He felt so very uncomfortable.

Hawke stopped her chatter and popped her head out with a scowl.

"Whoa," Bull said, his eyes widening as he popped his head forward. "Never mind him. Are you seeing anyone, gorgeous?"

"Back off, Iron Cow…" Fenris threatened.

Krem broke into cackles, while Bull kept grunting. "Nothing's going my way today," he muttered.

Fenris continued feeling a mix of uncomfortable feelings, now with the added frustration that Hawke and Bull kept talking to each other. He'd started running a mercenary company about the same time she did, so they had a lot to share. He seemed like a very laid-back guy once he'd forgotten his upset with the greataxe. Furthermore, he seemed to adopt the same values as Hawke with regards to leading a group. Krem wasn't just his lieutenant, but his best friend, and he talked about the others as if they were his family. No wonder he'd left the Qun. But with all that in the forefront, it made him very jealous.

He tried to get a word in edgewise, change the subject—and they landed on Seheron. But that depressed them both, Hawke and Krem trying to cheer them up with jokes.

In the end, he forgot about his frustrations. The semi-finals were extremely exciting. There was an elven man simply called The Croaker that was decimating the other players. According to the commentators, it was the first time the Grand Tourney had an elven player. Hawke placed her bet on him, though she called him Goldy Locks, because of his pale curly hair. As for Fenris, he was sarcastic about it, that he felt so very pandered to with a token elf. But the more he saw him in action, the more he was losing himself in a frenzy of support. Aveline, Bull and Krem had their money on Bellinda the Bulldozer, while Donnic bet on another newcomer, a brown-haired knight calling herself Trevelyan Terror.

"Alluvin valla khal! What's the meaning of this?" Fenris snapped, when the Bittersteel Knight rushed back towards the vomitorium and the Croaker simply stopped and waited, taunting him with his sword.

"Calm down, Fenris. It's just the safe zone," Aveline said.

"That's some bullshit," Fenris complained.

"It's not bullshit. Rules of civilised combat always have breaks and safe zones," Aveline said.

"Safe zones are for pussies," Fenris said acidly.

Hawke glowered at him. "Come again?"

"Do you want to get beat up?" Aveline threatened.

"Fine. Wusses," Fenris said.

The battle recommenced, and the Croaker now had to go to the safe zone.

"Ha. In your face!" Hawke said.

Fenris scoffed, leaning back. "They're both wusses."

"What's gotten into you?" Hawke said, frowning. "You're acting like a jerk."

"Calm down. I'm not being a jerk to you," Fenris said dismissively.

"No, no. You shoot for the stars, offending everyone, as per usual," Hawke said with a sharp eyebrow.

Fenris ignored her. The battle resumed, and it was a tight game. The Croaker was fast and smooth, but the Bittersteel Knight had incredible blocking game and when he got him, he got him good. They were on their last legs, and Fenris didn't even see it when he stood up cheering. He was completely immersed, and he had to win!

Finally, the Croaker went down, cut Bittersteel's ankles with his leg, and managed to disarm him on the ground. He had the killing blow, and he stopped before it in victory. Fenris growled with excitement and high-fived Hawke as she sprung up.

The sky was already dark. Next came Bellinda the Bulldozer and Trevelyan Terror. Bellinda was a smashing menace, while Trevelyan had a controlled, defensive style, taking advantage of her opponent's vulnerability as she swung her hammer.

"Want to get some air?" Hawke said, standing up.

"What?" Fenris said, distracted. "Oh. Uhm… Sure."

Krem made childish noises with Bull. "You're in trouble now…" Bull teased him.

Evening, The Arena Gardens

It was a little more peaceful outside, though there were many people around on smoke breaks. Hawke led Fenris further in the gardens, and found a bench against a tall black ornate fence with climbing roses looking out to a small pond. She sat down, and lit up a joint.

"Didn't know you were so competitive," Hawke said, exhaling smoke.

"A… little," Fenris said, brooding. He brushed the back of his head. "I… got carried away."

"It's fine," she said with a laugh. She held the joint towards him. "But you need to chill."

"Fair enough," he said, chuckling and taking it between his fingers. He exhaled and took in the view.

"So…" Hawke said, slouching and crossing her legs flatly. "You want to be a sexy househusband?"

Fenris laughed, taking another drag. "Why not?" he said, giving it back to her.

"Huh," she said, impressed.

"What?" he said with a little smirk.

"I don't know. I'm just surprised," she said, shrugging.

"I'm full of surprises," he said confidently, extending his arm on the top of the bench.

She came in closer, putting a head on his shoulder. "Yep…"

"You have a problem with that?"

"No. I think it's awesome. But…"

"But?"

"Well, for one thing, you know, hypothetically, if that were the case, I'd be losing my best damager."

"Hypothetically, I come and go as I please, as always," he maintained. "Besides," he said, looking at the stars. "You have ambition and dreams. I just want to be left alone and enjoy my life."

"Fair," she said, chuckling. "But I thought you wouldn't even like the idea, since it'd tie you to the home, and you'd never escape being seen as a manservant."

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Be that as it may, I don't waste my time obsessing over what people think."

"You have better things to obsess about," Hawke said, amused.

"Exactly," he said nonchalantly.

She looked up at the stars, and he seemed to be brooding, forgetting to pass the joint.

"What?" she said.

"It's just… most people have always had a home. They've always had a family. Then they take them for granted," Fenris said, rapt in thought. He looked up at the stars. "I can't." He shook his head softly. "I don't want to."

"I understand," Hawke said softly, playing with his hair. "In the end, love is in the small things."

Fenris breathed out the smoke, brooding. "They're not small to me," he said, taking another drag.

"And that's why I adore you," Hawke said, wrapping her hands around his neck.

He chuckled, holding on her wrist. "Good," he said, kissing her forehead.

"See?" Hawke said, coming out of the embrace and brushing his bangs. "You have dreams after all."

Fenris made a little smile as he brooded. "I suppose I got so used to nightmares," he said, his eyes glazing over her, "I've forgotten what it's like to dream."