A/N: I am undecided if I can write (F)Hawke's point of view or thoughts well enough... :/ I do not understand the mechanics of girls' brains (even if I am one myself) – they make little to no sense to me.
An underdog and an angry, confused ex-slave with trust issues on the other hand…
BioWare own everything! I'm just playing in their dragon and darkspawn-filled sandbox.
Chapter 4 - "Your dress ruined my wine"
Carver was smiling at him. Bethany was in a fit of giggles. Hawke howled with laughter.
Leto had started to let a smile creep onto his face.
They are laughing; they thought my quote was funny.
Bethany's fit of giggles had gotten out of control, her magic sparking out of her hand with tiny yellow bolts that joyfully bounced and danced across her skin.
No. They are laughing at me. Of course they are - a stupid slave has no place to jest.
The irritation of his thoughts and the pain soaring in his hands from the use of magic nearby combined had the smile ripped away and fierce snarl took its place. "Maker, is it really that hard to believe?" Leto barked driving the dagger into the dirt up to its hilt and stalking away from the trio of Hawkes.
Leto found a large boulder near a small running river to beat his fists into. He had only two breaths of time to himself before his elven ears picked up rushed footfall coming towards him, too soft to be Carver, too clumsy to be Bethany that left Hawke.
"Go away, eldest mage" he said without even looking at her, sending his left fist into the rocky surface as if that would kill the light buzzing in his hands.
She frowned but did not make a move to leave "Are you… alright?"
"No!" he snapped, pivoting to face her and hurling his second rabbit blood-covered dagger at the ground between Hawke's feet. "That's why 'the elf' wanted to get Away from you mages and your flaming lack of control!"
She blinked at the dagger sicking out of the dirt barely an inch away from her toes. "Calm down would you?" She said softly, holding her hands out in front of her to show she was no threat. "What's up? I know you don't like magic but, geez, it's not like Beth was aiming thunder bolts at your chest so why are you being so… dramatic?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. How would he even begin to explain the unworldly glow in his skin and the pain the slightest use of magic brings him?
She observed him, his stiff stance, the way his chest heaved under the thin fabric, and the intense dark green his eyes had become. "You look like you need a hug" she decided, taking a step towards the elf, who in turn took a step backwards his heel bumping against the stone.
He could feel the relaxing charm she was trying to coax out of her palms; Leto bared his teeth at her like a rabid animal cornered. "I don't" he ground out through his teeth, before twisting around and climbing the jagged face of the giant boulder with the ease of a gecko.
He perched himself on its peak. "And I do not have to explain myself to you today, mage" he huffed, crossing his arms across his chest.
"You are rather cute when you're angry you know that, Leto?" She called, sending him (or rather his back) a half-smile half-smirk.
Cute? Cute?! I am not cute. Kittens and rabbits are cute. A scrawny, angry ex-slave is nothing short of repulsive!
His keen elven hearing caught her murmuring, "I'd let you smother me to death with your cuteness any day"
….What? She offers a 'compliment' then wishes for me to take her life. Girls. He huffed. Such strange creatures..
"Leave!" He directed, his arm snapped out horizontally with a finger pointing back the way they had come from.
That wasn't the reaction Hawke had hoped for. In her minds-eye the elf had come back down to her, thanked her for the compliment and smothered her with aggressive kisses. How disappointing…
Knowing she hadn't moved, his voice boomed impatience at her ears. "NOW!"
It felt like she was just kicked in the gut being on the receiving end of his anger. Was he angry at her for sounding so surprised that Leto could say something funny? Did Bethany's tiny sparks of laughter lightning upset him that much? Did he think the bolt had been summoned to harm him?
She couldn't understand his sudden change in his mood.
Well, that attempt to cheer up or calm down the elf was a fail. A compliment – no – two compliments, one of which included his very own joke mixed with a not-so-subtle hint I find him attractive and wish him to kiss me.
She had developed a serious crush on the elf, it was borderline obsessive. She tried to get Leto's attention and company as much as possible. Maker, she wanted him to be hers; he ticked all the boxes – tall, dark, handsome, and he always sent a pleasant mix of happiness and nerves tying her stomach in knots when his large green eyes and low voice were directed at her.
But the elf has some problems; One minute he jokes the next he's growling and throwing a dagger at me.
Of course, no one could be as perfect as the men in the fairy-tales mother had told her about as a young girl.
If you take away all the hate and the pain in his eyes, he could be the prince-charming I've been waiting for
It was Hawkes 18th birthday. She was the type of girl that would have never been seen in a dress. But here she was wearing her mothers' slightly low-cut green silk dress in a wild attempt to get that white-haired elf's attention.
Leto was drinking by himself with his feet propped up on the table in the back corner of Dane's Refuge. She sauntered over to him, a smile playing on her face. "C'mon Leto, it's my birthday, the least you could do is acknowledge my existence instead of brooding in the corner"
He had been watching her all evening since they arrived unable to believe this girl was the same Hawke who was only ever seen in khaki pants, boots and plain tee's. Letting his eyes follow her every move as if to try and prove this girly Hawke wasn't some imposter or beautiful trickery brought on by the ale he had consumed.
He couldn't say 'I did acknowledge you, I've been watching you all night' – he'd sound like one of creepy old patrons that are always ogling the young pretty women that stay here.
He could feel her golden eyes on him waiting expectantly for a response. He cleared his throat and asked, "What is it you want me to say to you, mage?"
Now she stood so close his eyes had a mind of their own, quickly running over the curves of her under the fine green silk dress (that mirrored the colour of his eyes), to the wolf's fur draped elegantly over her shoulders and along the dipping neckline to the way her blond hair framed her face in delicate tiny golden tornadoes.
He swallowed, Maker, she looks incredibly stunning! Inwardly groaning and suddenly uncomfortable he shifted in his seat.
She grinned, watching him shift so his long leather clad legs were crossed at the thighs instead of at his ankles. "Well, you could tell me what you think of the dress? You know I don't normally wear stuff like this," she motioned her dress with her hand.
"Does it look okay?" she asked, forcing a timid tone into her normally confident voice. If judging by the elf's reaction when she had approached, the dress was more than just okay. She was beaming inside, her plan was working.
He tried to be honest and tell her how gorgeous she looked but his quiet, shy side seemed to be withholding the words in his throat. "You look... like a girl in a dead animal"
Elven ears heard Carver chuckle nearby followed by Bethany gasping and the sound of skin being slapped.
"I'll take that as a compliment" she beamed.
"Congratulations, mage" he drawled, drowning the rest of his ale in one gulp. A saying amongst the slaves coming to him from out of thin air, "You're one year closer to your grave"
"An' you sir elf are one drunk closer t'drink" Carver commented, approaching the two with more than a slight swagger in his step.
"Carver? have you been drinking?" Hawke gaped at her baby brothers' state "You know you are not old enough! Who gave you ale?"
The two boys blinked innocently at her and pointed at each other
"Alright, but don't come crying to me with a hangover tomorrow. I will not help you, brother" she poked his nose, then turned her eyes onto the elf "So what is that, a Tevinter tradition to say 'one year closer to your grave' instead of a simple 'happy birthday'?"
"A slave doesn't often have the luxury to see many years," he scoffed "you become less and less needed each year then you become dead when you are considered 'too old'. Many of us don't live into our twenties"
"How sad" she frowned. "Are you done being a party-pooper? Lighten up, dude, leave the past behind you" she clapped him on the back "Another round of drinks please, Danal!"
A few hours and many more rounds later.
"You gon'apologize for that?" Hawke laughed, looking at the wine dribbling down the wolfs pelt on to her collar bones. "You ruin my 'ress"
"No" Leto frowned deeply at the now empty cup in his hands "your dress ruined my wine"
Carver chuckled and passed the remainder of his across the table to the elf "Next ti'e aim for m'face not.. the Haawke…" was the last thing he said before his face dropped and collided heavily with the table.
Leto furrowed his brow at his friend, the tone of his voice suggesting he was upset
"I tol' him I would drink 'im under the table" she beamed at her brothers passed out form "How many mor' rounds can you do?"
"A few more, easy, but it would be-" Hawke had leaned over the table top to listen better, giving elven eyes a view of his wine disappearing into cleavage. Inwardly groaning and averting his eyes, he finished. "-Unwise"
"You chickenin' out?" Hawke gasped "I didn't think you were the type t'back away from me"
"I'm not. I just-" he bit his lip looking between the youngest and eldest Hawke. "Let's leave this evening on a… good note."
He grasped her dainty fingers and brought them up to his lips, kissing the knuckles "Goodnight Hawke"
She beamed at him, it had been so long she had heard her name roll off his tongue in that low Tevinter accent that sent a shiver down her spine.
She half stood out of her seat so she could boldly place a kiss on his high cheekbones. "Goodnight Leto"