Thank you again to Mary for her wonderful beta, and to both Mary and Carrie for their encouragement.

~o~O~o~

Finally, the day of the expedition arrived. Fletcher and Fenris, who had once again slept on the settee together, were up early as Fletcher wanted to make his mother and sister a cooked breakfast before they departed.

After washing and dressing, Fenris assisted him in the kitchen. Conversation was minimal, but they were much more relaxed around each other than they had been of late, thanks in part to the previous day's picnic. They'd taken lunch at the Alienage, where Merrill had joined them long enough to share their food, before taking herself off. To Fletcher's surprise, Fenris had told him of the extravagant, often excessive dinner parties Danarius used to hold at his estate in Minrathous, pointing out the differences between them and the simple pleasure of eating sandwiches and cake beneath a tree. He'd also recounted some of the more profane pursuits of Danarius and the other Magisters, stating that he'd find it difficult to imagine any of the mages he'd met in Kirkwall behaving in such a way.

Although Fenris hadn't said so, Fletcher felt that he was being compared with the Magisters, and that he'd acquitted himself favourably against them. He also wondered if Fenris wasn't also talking about Merrill, but decided to let Fenris say what he wanted to say, and to leave it at that.

That evening, Leandra, with Fletcher's help, had prepared a huge roast dinner. Donnic and Merrill were invited, and Bethany, Varric and Gamlen were also there. Fletcher had considered asking Anders, but, remembering his odd demeanour when he'd visited the clinic earlier, and that he'd 'forgotten' the card game at the Hanged Man, Fletcher decided against it. Also, Fletcher would not have been so understanding if Anders 'forgot' to turn up when his mother had made dinner.

"So, when shall we give Mother the brooch?" Fletcher asked the elf, cracking a few eggs into a pan; Fenris was on bacon duty. "We're sort of running out of time."

"After breakfast, before we depart," Fenris answered.

"Just before we depart? Why not give it to her during breakfast?"

"No particular reason," Fenris said quietly with a shrug, and Fletcher caught a glimpse of shifty green eyes through white hair.

"You really think she's going to be offended, don't you?" Fletcher laughed. "You don't know my mother; the reason I suggested giving it to her during breakfast is because she'll be hugging you for about twenty minutes. If we give it to her as we depart, we'll be late!"

When no answer came from the elf, Fletcher took his pan of eggs off the flame and set it on the counter. "Or is that what you're afraid of?"

"I am not afraid," Fenris said as he turned the bacon over, and Fletcher once again noticed Fenris's eyes darting around beneath his hair.

"Well, what is it, then?"

Fenris also set his pan aside and slowly released a breath. "I am not certain you would understand. Or perhaps you would? I don't know."

"You won't know unless you tell me, will you?" Fletcher encouraged gently.

Fenris hung his head a little and took a minute to answer. "It is just…I do not remember my own mother." His eyes darted up to Fletcher's. "Not that I'm…I would never presume that your mother…" He sighed and shook his head.

"I think it's a bit late for that," Fletcher said with a smile. "Mother loves to mother people, and she's very fond of you. When we were in the kitchen last night, she gave me a hug and said she felt better about me going on the expedition knowing that you'd be with me. She also said she'll be very cross if either of us are hurt."

Fenris laughed briefly before anxiety marred his brow. "I am…touched." He briefly considered asking what he had done to deserve her care, but suspected such a question would anger or upset Fletcher, and he refrained. "I am unaccustomed to family life. I do not know how to conduct myself, or what is proper."

"You're conducting yourself just fine, Fen." Fletcher placed his pan back on to the heat, but kept one eye on the elf. "All you have to do is be yourself. That is the person Mother is so fond of. That is the person I'm…well…" Fletcher also shrugged and worried the eggs with a spatula.

"Forgive me," Fenris said mildly. "You must be weary of my…interminable humility."

"No…not at all." Fletcher laid the spatula down and turned to face Fenris. "Humility is a strength, not a weakness. It can be overdone, though; I do wish you saw yourself as others see you. As I see you." He sighed and moved a little closer to Fenris, who was keeping an eye on the bacon. "Don't ever think you can't tell me what's on your mind, though, Fen. Everyone needs a confidant, and I'm honoured to be yours."

A small smile curved Fenris's mouth, and he looked up at Fletcher through his fringe. "And I am honoured to have you as my confidant. Tell me…who is yours?"

"Up until now, it's been mainly Beth, I suppose, even though you know things about me that nobody else does. As soon as we walk out of that door today, though, there'll be a vacancy for the position of my confidant. Interested?"

"What are the requirements?" Fenris asked nonchalantly.

"Well, I'll only take elves."

"Merrill, perhaps?" suggested Fenris, his tone warm.

"No. It has to be a man, in case I need to talk about personal stuff."

"But Bethany-"

"Bethany's my sister, and nothing embarrasses her. No, her replacement will have to be a man. And preferably a fair-haired one; Beth's dark-haired and I fancy a change."

Fenris's smile widened. "And is there any other criteria?"

"Um…preferably a non-mage, to bring a different perspective, you know? And they have to be comely; it wouldn't do for me to be seen with an unattractive person."

"I see," chuckled Fenris as he placed the cooked bacon onto a plate. "And how does one apply for the position?"

"Well, you just ask." He moved a little closer and whispered, "As you're already friends with the boss, I'm sure he can pull a few strings for you."

Fenris laughed softly and shook his head. "In that case, I would like to formally apply for the position of Confidant to Messere Fletcher Hawke."

"It's Fletcher Malcolm Hawke, actually," Fletcher informed him. "You've got the job."

"Is there no interview? No trial?"

"You've just had the interview, and you impressed the boss. He's not even seeing any of the other candidates. Welcome to the team." Fletcher extended his hand, and, when Fenris had stopped chuckling, he shook it.

"You make me laugh," the elf uttered softly.

"Well, you make me laugh, as well," Fletcher answered, still holding on to Fenris's hand. He saw Fenris's eyes move behind him, and Bill made an appearance.

"For my first duty as Confidant to Messere Fletcher Malcolm Hawke, I should inform him that his eggs are burning."

"What? Oh, shit!" Fletcher hastily released Fenris's hand and turned his attention to the eggs, but they were beyond saving. "I blame you for this," he joked. "Boss's privilege."

"Ah, I see how it's going to be," Fenris answered. "You had better hope that your boss is more accommodating. You are my confidant, after all."

"Uh-oh," muttered Fletcher.

"Yes. You would do well to be on your guard," the elf teased, and passed Fletcher a few more eggs.

~o~O~o~

During breakfast, Varric called to collect Fletcher and Fenris, and to say goodbye to Bethany. After clearing up, Varric and Bethany stepped outside, leaving Fenris and Fletcher with Leandra.

"Mother, before we go, we have something for you," announced Fletcher, reaching into his pocket and producing a small box. Fenris stepped back a little, shifting uneasily on the balls of his feet.

"For me? How thoughtful!" Leandra exclaimed, taking the box. "What is it?"

"Open it," invited Fletcher.

With an excited glance at the two men, she slowly removed the lid and gasped as she stared at the silver and lavender brooch. "Oh…this is exquisite! You really shouldn't have…but I'm so glad you did! And it's a perfect match for my dress!" Leandra began to pin it to the collar of her grey and lilac dress, with assistance from Fletcher.

"It's from both of us," Fletcher told her, "but it was Fenris's idea to buy it."

The blood drained from the elf's face, and he gulped, relaxing only when Leandra looked at him with tears in her eyes, obviously not offended. "Oh, Fenris, what a wonderful thought. Thank you so much." She moved over to the elf and swallowed him in a hug. Fenris laughed nervously and brought one hand around to awkwardly pat her back. "And which of you chose this?" she asked as she pulled away, wiping her eyes.

"Erm…that would be Merrill," Fletcher confessed with a laugh.

"Well, I will be sure to call on her to thank her," said Leandra, giving her son a hug and kiss. "I will treasure this. Oh, I will miss you. Both of you. Look after each other, won't you?"

"We will; we have your cooking to come back to," Fletcher joked with a glance at Fenris, who had moved over to the door. "In a hurry, Fen?" he grinned.

"We, uh, we should not be late," Fenris said, looking mildly embarrassed, a flush in his cheeks. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said to Leandra with a bow.

"As Bethany said, this will always be your home, Fenris," she told him. The elf nodded quickly and opened the door.

"Thank you. I will…leave you to say your goodbyes." Without another word, he ducked outside and leaned against the wall, sighing heavily. To his right, at the bottom of the steps, he saw Bethany and Varric, who were obviously having a private conversation, and he turned away, not wanting to intrude, but he couldn't help hearing them.

"Here, Sunshine; I want you to look after this for me."

"But this is your father's signet ring, Varric; I can't take that!"

"Look, I'll only end up losing it down there. And if times get hard, you should be able to get a few sovereigns for it."

"I would never sell this, Varric."

"Hey! I'm a dwarf, remember? I expect you to sell it if you need the coin. It's just a ring."

"Well, I'm a human, and I'm not going to sell it. It'll still be here when you return. Don't take too long, will you?"

"Listen, Princess. I'll be back to you as soon as my stubby little legs will carry me." Varric paused, then, and sighed. "I guess I'm gonna need to speak to your brother. About…you know."

"No, you don't," Bethany replied. "Fletcher and I talked about that a long time ago, and he approved, so long as we were careful. And we were. I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye properly."

Fenris scratched at his ears, trying to block out the kissing sounds that ensued, and stared at the door, willing Fletcher to come out. Quickly.

"Your brother's a good egg," Varric said quietly. "Well, Aveline may have confiscated my key, but I persuaded her that I would buy the safehouse when we come back, so she's keeping the Chantry at bay for now. What she doesn't know is that you still have your key," he chuckled. "Just keep the entertaining of men to a minimum, huh?"

"Oh, Varric," she said sternly. "Don't joke about such things."

"Ah, I just figured if you thought me an ass, it would be easier for you to say goodbye. Guess that didn't work. Come here." They fell silent, and Fenris assumed they were embracing. "Tell 'em I've gone on ahead, Sunshine," Varric said after a few minutes. "You take care of your mama, okay?"

"Yes, I will," she answered. "And take care of yourself, dearest." Fenris heard the dwarf's booted steps growing quieter as he left the slums, and his stomach lurched as Bethany started sobbing quietly. To his eternal relief, the door opened and Fletcher finally stepped out.

~o~O~o~

After consoling Bethany and saying his own goodbye to her, Fletcher, with Fenris, caught up to Varric on the way to the site. Fenris observed that both men seemed to be covering their wistfulness by playfully insulting each other, and was glad that he wasn't leaving someone who meant a great deal to him behind. He wondered how he would feel if Fletcher wasn't going on the expedition, or if he wasn't. The ache he felt in his belly answered the question for him, and he did his best to join in with the banter, also hoping to buoy Fletcher's spirits.

When they arrived at the site, Sebastian was already there, watching as several small carts were being taken into the main cave. He seemed pleased to see Fletcher and Fenris together and apparently in good spirits, and, if he harboured any concerns over his discovery of Fletcher's secret, he didn't show it. Anders also arrived a short time later, and chatted to Varric while Fletcher, Fenris and Sebastian lent a hand to the workers.

When all of the supplies and livestock had been taken to the main chamber about a quarter of a mile in, the workers congregated outside for a break and to feel the sun on their faces one last time for possibly the next few months.

After a while, some of the dwarves seemed impatient to get started, and approached Bartrand, wanting to know when they'd be setting off. The expedition leader moved a distance away and loudly called for the assembled workers to gather together.

"Right! You all know what you're doing. Well, you'd better, 'cos it's too late to turn back now," he stated, eliciting some laughter, but not from Fletcher's group: indeed, the mage shot Varric a concerned glance, which Varric shrugged at. "Let's get plunderin', then! We'll all be rich men by the time we get outta there! Let's go!" Bartrand headed toward the main cave, with Fletcher hot on his tail.

"Wait a minute!" Fletcher caught up to the dwarf and moved in front of him, blocking his path. "Is that all you're going to say to them?" he demanded quietly, not wanting to show Bartrand up, for Varric's sake.

"What else do you want me to say to them? Should I give them a cuddle and a pat on the head and tell them not to be afraid of the dark? Some of these people have been underground for most of their lives. These are men, son, not the kind of boys you're used to."

"Don't think you can talk down to me, Bartrand. And not all of the men have been underground; there are several humans and surface dwarves here. Aren't you going to say anything about safety? About the effects of being underground for long periods?"

"They all know what they signed up for," growled Bartrand, "but if you need to coddle the humans, be my guest. Just don't take too bloody long over it."

"You should be doing this," Fletcher hissed, not relishing the prospect of speaking to a large group of people, something he'd never done before. "It's lucky for these people that a couple of healers are coming along, who actually care about their health. Now, you'd better announce me, if you don't want to lose face."

"You're too kind, Twinkletoes," Bartrand said with a sarcastic bow. "Don't expect me to thank you, and don't expect any thanks from this lot for being told what they already know."

"I'm doing it for Varric's sake, not yours. Now get on with it," Fletcher ordered tautly.

"The mage wants to say a few things," Bartrand told the group unenthusiastically, and Fenris noticed Fletcher's nostrils flaring and his posture tensing as he stepped forward.

"Good morning, everyone," Fletcher said to the group, and was answered with a few murmurs and nods. "I've met some of you already, but to those of you who don't know me, I'm Hawke, and I'm one of the investors, along with Varric and Bartrand. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm also a mage; a healer, as it happens, and so is my friend, Anders." Fletcher pointed to Anders, who moved to Fletcher's side and nodded at the group.

"I know that some of you originally hail from Orzammar," Fletcher went on, "and the last thing you want to hear is a lecture on how to live underground from a human. I'd just like to say a few things for the benefit of the other humans and the surfacers. Oh, and the elf, of course." He grinned and bowed to Fenris, who squirmed a little but nodded back. "If you'll all humour me, I'll be as brief as I can," he continued, and, as there were no objections besides a few pairs of rolled eyes, he took a deep breath, hoping he wasn't about to alienate the dwarves by appearing condescending.

"Before I start, is everyone happy with their oxygen apparatus? Does anyone find it uncomfortable?"

"They're all right, Hawke," Torbal piped up loudly. "There were a few grumblers, but they soon came round to the idea when I told 'em they didn't have to breathe if they didn't wanna."

"I can imagine," Fletcher laughed. "Well, at the entrance to the main cave, there are several piles of items." He gestured toward the cave, and waited until everyone had had a good look. "I know you've all brought things with you, but I'd like for you all to take a couple of each item. We don't know how long we'll be down there for, and our own supplies might run out."

"What's there?" a grizzled, grey-haired Orzammar dwarf, Reijyr, called out.

"There's soap, wash cloths, socks in several different sizes, emergency dried rations-"

"Soap? Wash cloths?" Reijyr scoffed. "You're seriously telling grown men that they need to bathe?"

"Yes, we are," Anders answered calmly. "Cleanliness is very important. You'll be getting no daylight and the air down there will be stale and moist; if you don't stay clean, you'll get some pretty nasty skin complaints."

"This is ridiculous," Reijyr complained. "Maybe you humans don't know how to wash, but I was keeping myself clean before you were born, Sonny Jim."

"Let 'em speak, Reijyr," Torbal argued. "You'll get your coin soon enough, you grasping old bastard." The dwarven workers burst out laughing, and Fletcher and Anders smiled nervously while they waited for the hullabaloo to die down.

"Go on, Andreas," Torbal directed.

Anders nodded at the dwarf gratefully, not bothering to correct him. "As I was saying, it's very important that we all keep ourselves clean. Pay particular attention to your hair, beards, armpits, genitals and feet. I don't want anyone coming to me or Hawke with festering sores because they didn't wash properly. Apart from being very unpleasant and painful, they don't heal well and could become infected. Hawke and I don't have unlimited reserves of magic or potions. Anyone acquiring a serious infection will not be permitted to continue, and will therefore hold up the expedition."

"That's right; you'll hold up the expedition," Varric echoed, "and I know how stabby you Orzammar folk get when you're kept away from your riches." After some heckling and a few laughs, Varric went on, "So, the lesson to learn from this is: stay clean, or you'll annoy everyone. You annoy our human mage friends, here, and they'll cluck, shake their heads, and, if they're really pissed, they might even frown a little. You annoy the dwarves, on the other hand, and a festering sore will be the least of your worries."

A laugh rippled around the group, and Fletcher once again waited for quiet. "Anders and I are both healers. I know that some of you don't trust, or like, magic, but a lot of ailments can be treated without it. If any of you injure yourselves or feel unwell I want you to come to one of us, no matter how minor you think the problem is. It's better that you swallow your pride and come to us with a cut on your finger than for you to have it amputated later on."

"That'll be you humans, then, going to a healer with cuts on your fingers," another Orzammar dwarf, Thirin, spat with a pointed look at the extra five workers Fletcher had recruited from among the refugees in Darktown.

"I don't know where you get your ideas about humans from, Dwarf, but none of us have had it easy," Thom, one of the refugees, retorted. "We're not as fragile as you think. Just keep that handsome nose of yours in your own business."

"And what about the knife-ear?" Reijyr joined in. "He looks like he'd fall over in a strong breeze. I give him two nights down there before he cracks."

A clamour erupted, and Fletcher removed his staff and struck the ground at his feet with it. A violent rumble travelled along the ground, and the group quickly shut up.

"We are not going to have any of this dwarves-versus-humans-and-elves nonsense!" Fletcher barked, angered by the slight on Fenris. "We're all here for one purpose, and it would be nice if we could do it without us all wanting to kill each other! If any of you think you can't do that, I suggest you leave while you still can, and I assure you that I will not tolerate any racism on this expedition from anyone."

"It was your idea to put humans, dwarves and elves together, Mage," Bartrand added unwisely. "It's inevitable there will be trouble. How do you plan to deal with it, exactly?"

"You don'twant to know the answer to that, Bartrand," Fletcher seethed, pointing his staff at the dwarf. "Don't try me. I can only be pushed so far." He turned back to the group, his face red, and gripped his staff tightly to hide his trembling hands. "Does anyone else have anything stupid to say? Let's get it out of the way now."

A few members of the group mumbled, and some shuffling of feet was heard, but no one had anything further to add.

"Good," Fletcher snapped, and, feeling a hand on the small of his back, he took a deep breath and glanced at Fenris, who had moved next to him. "Good," he repeated in a softer voice, and pointed over to the entrance of the cave. "Among the pile of items are several large chunks of chalk. I want you all to take some and stow it in your packs, and for you to eat a one-inch piece of it once a day."

"You want us to eat chalk?" one of the humans exclaimed, but none of the dwarves looked surprised.

"It'll help keep your bones strong," explained Fletcher. "It's no substitute for sunlight, but it's something. Actually, it doesn't taste as bad as you'd imagine. I wouldn't recommend eating it long term, but it won't hurt for a short time."

"Dwarves have been eating it for centuries," Torbal declared, "and it hasn't done any of us no harm. Well, besides stunting our growth and making us cranky as hell; oh, and giving us our distinctive pretty looks. But I'm nit-picking, here." He and several other dwarves laughed at the nervous expressions on the human workers' faces.

"He is joking," Fletcher assured the humans once the laughter had subsided. "…I think. Anyway, I know that many of you have spent time underground before, but there are just as many of you that haven't, myself included. Most of you have families, children or friends on the surface or in Orzammar. Dwarf, elf or human, none of us are immune to feeling lonely or homesick-"

"What are you talking about, Hawke?" one of the surface dwarves interjected. "I'm going on this expedition to get away from the sodding missus!"

This time, everyone – even Bartrand – laughed. "Well, for those of us who are not tryingto escape our wives," Fletcher said, "I just want to say that Anders, Sebastian – who is an Andrastian - and I are always around if you want to talk about anything, in the strictest of confidence. And in case you're not comfortable talking to a human, or a mage, Varric here is also at your disposal."

Varric grinned and bowed, and some groans and laughs were heard, but a few words of thanks were also given.

"For those of you who don't know, I'm a Grey Warden," Anders announced. More groans were heard, but they were quickly silenced by others in the group. "I know Bartrand has a route planned out, but if I sense darkspawn in our vicinity, we may have to deviate from that route; I don't want to engage them unless we have no other choice."

"Deviate?" Bartrand barked. "Nobody said anything about deviating!"

"I would think it would be obvious to any intelligent person," Anders retorted defiantly.

Bartrand stomped over to Hawke and folded his arms. "Isn't this why you brought a warden along? To deal with the darkspawn? A chicken-shit warden who avoids darkspawn isn't much use to us, is he?"

Ignoring Bartrand, Anders turned back to the group. "I'm here to sense the darkspawn and to formulate strategies if we do have to engage them. If you want to blindly follow Bartrand against my advice and become tainted, be my guest. I'll tell you now, though, that magic doesn't cure the taint – which is a slow, agonising death, by the way - and I don't have the ingredients with which to perform the Joining. I know you all want the gold Bartrand's promised you as quickly as possible, but you can't spend it if you're dead."

A hush fell over the group before one of the human refugees, Dudley, piped up, "I'll do whatever you say, Anders. I had to flee Ferelden with my family because of the Blight, but it's thanks to you lot I still have a family. My village would have been overrun if it wasn't for them wardens. You're all heroes to me, and should be treated with respect." Some members of the group echoed his sentiments, and Fletcher grinned at Anders, who smiled back. Bartrand, however, looked far from pleased.

"One more thing," Fletcher said. "We're all going to be spending a lot of time together and privacy may be difficult. When we're in camp, of course everyone is free to wander around, but please tell someone where you're going, and don't go too far. And, although lighting has been set up in the main tunnels, we'll still be exploring some dark places. I'd like to ask everyone to pair up with someone, and to stay close to your partner at all times when not in camp. We'll be doing regular head counts. If you become separated from the group, stay put; we'll come back for you. If you wander off, it'll be that much harder to find you."

"And that advice is doubly important if darkspawn are around," added Anders.

"Do I need to hold my partner's dick when he takes a piss?" Bartrand demanded.

"You can barely hold your own, Brother, let alone anyone else's!" countered Varric to braying laughter among the group. Fletcher, feeling increasingly uncomfortable talking to a large number of people he barely knew, pressed on, while he had the courage to do so.

"If you'll all bear with me for one more minute, I'm going to do a head count now," he said, pointing at each man as he counted them. When he'd finished, he frowned and muttered something under his breath, before counting again. "Fifteen dwarves, one elf, eleven humans. That's not right." His frown deepened, and he clasped his chin. "Anders, count the group for me; my numbers are off," he said quietly.

"How many should there be?"

"Twenty-six. I counted twenty-seven."

Anders mumbled to himself as he also counted the group. "Including us lot, Bartrand and Torbal, I make it twenty-seven, Hawke."

Fletcher walked over to Bartrand. "Have you employed an extra person, Bartrand?"

"I've employed lots of people," he grunted unhelpfully. "What difference does it make, anyhow? So long as the numbers match what we have now, what's the problem? You've done enough talking, Mage. Wrap it up and let's get started. You were the one haranguing me for being behind."

Shaking his head, Fletcher walked back to Anders and addressed the group. "Um…we seem to have an odd number; some of you will have to make up a threesome."

Fletcher rubbed his forehead as the group leered and whooped, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

"Back here, Hawke!" a human worker announced, indicating that three of them had formed a trio.

"Thank you. Oh, just one more thing-"

"You already said that!" Bartrand growled. "Get a sodding move on, before we all die of old age!"

Fletcher's stomach knotted as some of the group appeared to agree with Bartrand, and he tried to console himself with the fact that not all of them had, but he couldn't help feeling a little intimidated. "Anders and my friend Fenris, here, sometimes suffer from sleep disturbances. Should this happen, do not wake them, but fetch me, even if I'm asleep."

"What kind of sleep disturbances?" Bartrand demanded. "Are we gonna be woken up in the middle of the night because these two streaks of piss are missing their mommies?"

"You don't need to know that," Fletcher answered crisply, struggling to rein in his irritation. "Just do as I've asked." He faced the group again. "I won't keep you any longer. Thanks for listening. Sebastian would like to say something very quickly."

Sebastian stepped forward and politely bowed to the increasingly-impatient group. "Good morning to you all. I will be performing a blessing for our forthcoming journey; should any of you wish to participate, you will be very welcome. I will be just over here." He gestured to his side.

The group broke apart, and a few mutters of "stupid idea bringing humans and elves along," and "what business do humans have going into the Deep Roads?" or similar were heard from some of the dwarves.

"Tough crowd," Fletcher murmured disconsolately as he watched the majority of the dwarves head for the cave with Bartrand, while Torbal hung around by himself, not wanting to receive a Chantry blessing, but wanting to follow Bartrand even less.

"Hey, you did great, Hawke," Varric reassured him. "The humans are with you, and, considering you still have a head, I'd say the dwarves think you're okay, too. Dwarves don't buy you flowers or hug you if they respect you; they leave you be. Don't sweat it." Seeing that only six of the humans had joined Sebastian, Varric headed over to him, along with Anders, while Fenris waited for Fletcher. As he turned to join the elf, he was almost knocked off his feet by a hefty slap to his back. He warily turned around to face Reijyr, the dwarf that had barracked him earlier.

"Didn't expect a human to think of the chalk," the dwarf said gruffly, before nodding and walking off.

Fenris moved to Fletcher's side and watched Reijyr depart. "Perhaps you will yet emerge from the Deep Roads with your head intact?" he quipped, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"Maybe." Fletcher shrugged, allowing himself a sliver of hope as they walked over to Sebastian to receive their blessing. "Um, Fenris?" he asked nervously, feeling uncertain of himself after talking to the group.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering…um, would you-would you like to be my partner? I know you're already my confidant and I don't want to put upon you. There's always Varric, Sebastian or Anders…well, maybe not Anders. Erm, it doesn't even have to be any of them. You can partner whomever you like; I was just suggesting…"

Fenris, sensing that Fletcher's nerves were frazzled, waited patiently for a break in the mage's blathering. "Have you finished, yet?" he asked kindly when Fletcher stopped to take a breath.

Fletcher halted abruptly, his mouth hanging open, mid-blather.

"Ah, you have finished," decided Fenris, his expression hidden by his hair as he looked straight ahead. "Asking me is unnecessary; I assumed we would be partners. Providing…you have no objections, of course?"

"Objections?" Fletcher spluttered through a laugh. "You let me say all of that, and all along you-"

"It was rather droll," the elf quietly interrupted.

"What? Watching me twist in the wind?" This time Fenris didn't answer, and, with a glance to his side, Fletcher could see the elf's shoulders trembling. "For that, you can partner Anders," he threatened.

"I will gladly partner Anders, if you partner Bartrand," was the elf's composed reply.

They walked over to Sebastian and waited for the Chantry brother to prepare himself for the blessing. "It would seem we're stuck with each other, then," Fletcher whispered.

"It would seem," agreed the elf.

As Sebastian began to speak, a warm, fond smile passed between the two of them, and, for the time being, Fletcher's worries eased.