HAWKE
Four mugs.
Four mugs of the Hanged Man's less-than-ideal ale, down and gone. Yet, the scene across the tavern remains the same.
Serena and Fenris sit alone at a small candlelit table in the far corner of the room, talking about . . . something. Something that has the two smiling, laughing even. A rare occurrence for Serena lately, and even more so for the broody elf.
For the past half hour alone, I've fought the urge to rush over and intrude on their conversation. To figure out what it is exactly they're talking about to warrant such unexpected reactions.
But something stops me and binds me to my seat. It's like I'm glued to the bloody chair. I can't seem to tear myself away.
I hardly even notice Varric descend the obnoxious tavern steps before he walks over and plops himself onto the stool beside me!
"Hawke, what's the matter?" he asks. "You look down."
"It's nothing," I insist and take another gulp of my ale. The subsequent fizz that trickles down my gullet afterwards tingles the back of my throat.
"Come, it's never nothing!" he persists. "Talk to your old pal. Next round's on me . . . But that's it! I'm not opening up any charities."
A chuckle escapes me, despite my continued tension. "How generous of you, Varric. I'm blushing."
"Yeah, yeah." He waves a dismissive hand at me. "Just keep it in your pants. As much as I talk about you, I'm not interested in you in that fashion."
"Hm. I guess I still need to work on growing out my chest hair then." I stroke my fingers across the top of my shirt. "It must not meet your seal of approval yet."
Varric laughs and leans forward in his seat. "Hawke, if you want my seal of approval, you'll be waiting until that Maker of yours flies down to Kirkwall on a magic griffin and offers me Andraste's ghostly hand in marriage."
I tilt my head, contemplating the idea. It definitely sounds interesting. Bianca, though, would be furious.
As if reading my thoughts, Varric grins. "But all joking aside, you're deflecting," he says. "What's bothering you? I haven't seen you look this down since Twinkle Toes avoided you two weeks ago."
Hearing her nickname makes me look over at the two in the corner again. Like their bodies are some form of beacon.
Varric glances in their direction this time and nods. "Ah, I see now. This is about Twinkle Toes and Broody, isn't it? Look, don't get too bothered by those two just yet. They look close, but their . . . er . . . development is still new. Step up your game, woo her like the proud stallion you are, and you're golden! No woman in their right mind could resist you!"
"This isn't about her," I grumble and chug the rest of my drink.
"Sure, it isn't," Varric hums.
He sighs and shakes his head.
"Look, Hawke. I may be many things, but a fool I am not. Just . . . consider it."
As he says this, Serena suddenly stands up. She walks over toward us with a wide, scheming grin on her face, the likes she shows when she's up to no good. The coiling in my stomach vanishes at the sight. I can't help but smile back at her, too. Even if I know she's up to something.
"Hawke, Varric," she sets her hand on our table with a commanding grace, "what do you two say to a friendly round of Diamondback?"
A mischievous twinkle glistens in her stunning, teal eyes. Hinting that whatever she's up to, it's more than just a typical game of cards.
Varric glimpses at me with a silent smugness, rises from his seat, and gives her a low, dramatic bow. "Twinkle Toes, it'd be an honor."
"I knew you wouldn't let me down," she giggles then turns towards me. "What about you, Hawke? Are you in? If you win, we can call that debt you owe me even."
I place my empty mug down and smile, a relaxed feeling now filling me to the brim. The past heavy feelings from earlier easily forgotten. Dismissed.
Well, perhaps one card game won't be all that bad . . . now that I think about it.
FENRIS
"Don't even think about it," the abomination whispers in a low, spiteful tone beside me.
The two of us stand in the middle of the bustling Hightown market, along with Serena, Hawke, and Varric, who stand further up ahead at yet another stall. The sun glares down brightly on us from overhead, its biting heat already putting me in a foul mood after being exposed to it and wandering strangers far too long.
"To what are you implying, mage?" I snarl, still focusing straight ahead at the rest of our group. They're currently gathered around another smith's stall, inspecting some more leather goods. Though, we are certainly not in need of any of it.
"I've seen the way you look at her recently. How you actually smile whenever you speak to her," he continues. "I'm going to save you a lot of trouble, and warn you here and now. Don't get your hopes up. She treats everyone exactly the same. You are no exception."
I scoff. "Is that what you tell yourself, so you can rest easy at night?"
"No, it's simply a fact—a fact you need to accept," he persists. "And no matter how hard you try, nothing will ever happen between you and her. Her heart, body, and soul still belong to another . . . even if he may not be with us any longer."
I scowl over at the abomination.
His muddy eyes suddenly appear full of pity as he stares at Serena up ahead.
"What do you mean by that?" I ask. "Clarify your statement."
Anders flinches. He avoids looking over at me and rubs the back of his neck, just like the cowardly rat he is. "Look, all I will tell you is that she was married in the past, and she's still recovering," he whispers. "If you want to know more, ask her yourself. It's not my place to tell her story."
"Anders! Fenris! What's taking you?" Hawke's voice calls over the market hustle.
We turn to find the others all staring—waiting for us.
Anders glares at me then runs to catch up with them, leaving me to process his sudden words alone. More and more confusion about this new revelation, and how I'm supposed to feel about it, mounting in my head by the second.
