#when Varric asks what her plans are she's like. uh. plans. take care of my mother. obviously. i don't have thoughts beyond that.

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

"Man, Desire Demons are so full of shit. Ambition? I'm just fucking trying to make it to Friday." --Gen Hawke, probably.

[imdoingaokay]

R!DAI Companions + Advisors with an Inquisitor that wants a baby (and/or is pregnant)

Hey guys, I'm alive. This is something I've had for a while, and it's also the longest post I've made. So... yeah. Sorry I don't post all that much, I promise I'm trying.

Anyways, enjoy this self-indulgent fluff piece that I've been working on.

This had every companion, romanced except for Cole, Leliana, and Vivienne (so that means you get romanced Varric in this, you're welcome.)

HEAVY SPOILERS AHEAD! And slight NSFW, nothing too bad, just Bull being sex-positive.

TOKOPHOBIA WARNING

It started innocently enough, the Inquisitor would wander around Skyhold, visiting their friends and lover, just to check in (or give their lover a smooch.) Then a squeal of delight was heard, probably by everyone from Undercroft to the Rookery, that came from the Inquisitor. What they were squealing and cooing about? A baby. A chubby, chortling baby a pilgrim had brought to Skyhold that the Inquisitor had practically stumbled into. The Inquisitor was so enamored with the child, that they ended up spending the rest of the day wandering around Skyhold with the little one.

Then it got worse.

Parents, unable to resist the temptation of the Inquisitor offering to take their little ones for a stroll while they got some well-deserved rest, happily gave the Inquisitor their children. The children that did get babysat by the Inquisitor had far more fun than expected, walking along the battlements, eating a meal or two curated by the Inquisitor, and even being told stories of their exploits. The children of Skyhold grew to adore the Inquisitor, and the Inquisitor adored them in turn.

Soon enough, The Inquisitor became often sidetracked while on missions (more so than usual.) They would stop in their tracks to hold up a trinket or a flower and smile to themselves, telling their companions how they intended to give whatever they held to a specific child. By the time the mission was over, the Inquisitor had lined their pockets with various items to give to the children. 

All of this led to the Inquisitor’s friends and/or lover asking “why?” To which the Inquisitor looked them dead in the eye and shrugged.

“I want a baby of my own.”

Blackwall/Thom Rainier: 

Platonic: Blackwall shrugs, he gets it. The kids are cute. And it’s far more healthy for the Inquisitor to spend time taking care of other people’s children rather than go out and just… have one. 

Not like he wouldn’t mind, Uncle Rainier sounds like a nice title, right? Hopefully, The Inquisitor wants a hand-carved cradle when they have their child.

Romanced: He goes “Uh… is that… something you… want to do… now?” Rainer never truly saw himself settling down officially. He didn’t think he truly deserved that. But the idea of having a few kids? With the woman he loves? Top-tier fantasy in his book. And now with his true identity out of the way, he feels a little better about his future. Especially with his lover.

He needs to hear his lover say “not right now” because he would be more than happy to give his Inquisitor a few kids, and he wouldn’t have the mental strength to say no if they asked. 

Now if his lover does, by some chance, get pregnant. He’s over the moon. He fights harder, and faster, always eager to end Corypheus and retire. He’s such a sappy guy too, always wanting to stay as close as possible to his lover. So one should expect him to personally request that he be sent out all the time with The Inquisitor. That man has a nursery ready to go by the time The Inquisitor’s ready to give birth. He carves a cradle, high chairs, and everything the baby could need. He’s willing to build a palace with his two bare hands for his family.

Cassandra: 

Platonic: She gets it. Kids are super cute, why not have a few? If she didn’t become a seeker, she knows she would have a few of her own, whether she wanted to or not. But hopefully, the Inquisitor isn’t planning on having any now. Like… now, now. Because the Inquisition still needs them, she still needs them.

If The Inquisitor ends up pregnant or their partner ends up pregnant, she gets furious. She chews them out a little, claiming how immature they are for bringing a child into the world when the world is in so much turmoil. 

She calms later, especially when the child is born, recognizing the love The Inquisitor and their partner show for the child. She doesn’t apologize, as she’s still pissed, but she does adore the child.

Romanced: “Oh.” She says before her face goes completely red. She’ll have to pull them aside and talk about their future together. She’s honestly flattered when the Inquisitor claims they want to have children with her. She’d be a liar if she said she didn’t want kids of her own, especially with the Inquisitor, but the both of them ought to know that they can’t… not yet… anyways. But once all the rifts are closed and they have some more time for themselves, then… then, yeah. Yeah, she would like that.

Maker, help her if she ends up pregnant, she’ll be extremely stressed, for both her and her lover’s sake. One should expect her to refuse to go out on missions until the baby is born, and expect her to be furious when her lover goes too.

Cole: He understands, mainly because he read the Inquisitor’s mind, but he understands deeper than that. He thinks the Inquisitor would be an excellent parent, especially with how they treat him (if high affinity.) He holds a great deal of respect for them, and he knows that their heart is full of a very fluffy, wholesome type of love. One that Cole is more than happy to reciprocate. 

If the Inquisitor does end up having children, Cole is a very willing babysitter, as he doesn’t sleep and he’s able to tell what exactly a baby wants.

Cullen Rutherford: 

Platonic: Cullen furrows his brow before his gaze softens. He understands, he does. The thought of a little house, a family dog, and the sounds of little feet pittering against the floorboards, it’s nice. But that life is… unachievable, especially for a man like him. A man who is so busy, who has no right to live such a dreamy life. But The Inquisitor? They deserve that. They truly do.

He doesn’t need to ask if they mean right then and there, he knows what they mean and that they don’t intend on bringing in a child just yet.

“You would be wonderful.” He says, placing a comforting hand on their shoulder

If the Inquisitor ever ends up pregnant, Cullen won’t be able to stay very calm at all. He encourages the Inquisitor to stay behind in Skyhold but gives up when the Inquisitor becomes stubborn. He eventually has to turn to Leliana or Cassandra for help.

Romanced: It’s a simple desire, to have children. And Cullen’s had it every once in a while, like when he was in Kirkwall and saw a small child toddle towards another templar. He watched his colleague’s wife follow after the child, about to scold the babe for interrupting their father in the middle of work. The templar, instead, scooped the child up in his arms and showered the child’s pudgy face in kisses. That domestic bliss was something Cullen found himself longing for. But he was too busy, life was too busy. And then The Chantry exploded, and he was in The Inquisition… he couldn’t think about that. Not until he met his Inquisitor. Now he imagines what life will be like after the pair are finished. If The Inquisitor has already affirmed that they aren’t leaving him, Cullen’s willing to have a family with The Inquisitor, as long as the two are finished with Corypheus first.

But if life finds a way… he’s happy and nervous. He begs his lover to stay behind in Skyhold, terrified of the billion things that could go wrong. Of course, rifts must be closed, so, against his better judgment, he lets her go.

His dreams get progressively worse when she’s away, it was always like that… but the dreams are worse when she’s pregnant. It gets to a point where he goes weeks without sleep, aside from the occasional nap that he gets jolted up from. The second his lover is back, Cullen whisks her away from the War Room and ushers her back to her quarters, where he has a healer check on her and the baby. Once he is certain she is fine, and the sun has gone down, Cullen lays down next to his lover and passes out into a dreamless slumber.

Dorian Pavus: 

Platonic: “Oh that is hilarious.” He laughs before his smile falls, “Wait you’re serious?”

He listens to his friend, but worriedly reminds them how dangerous it is to bring a child into the world, especially with the Inquisitor in such a highly scrutinized role.

If the Inquisitor assures him that they don’t plan on having kids just yet, he’s relieved, but secretly disappointed. He does like babies… when they’re not puking or pooping.

Now if the Inquisitor is planning on having a child or is already pregnant, he’s ecstatic. He’s all over that and can’t wait until the baby comes. The man buys cribs, toys, parenting books, and much more. Don’t be surprised if he gets a “world’s best uncle” wine glass or something.

Romanced: He jokes, “We could just adopt, I’m sure there are plenty of little Tevinter babies that need two insanely beautiful fathers.”

Now, he is joking, but he’s secretly terrified. But not because he’s worried he’ll be a lousy father or anything, he knows he’ll be different from his father. But, the thought of having kids is something he always knew he was going to do. And then everything happened with his father and his Amatus, and now he feels like… he has a choice? He can say no. He can say yes. He can adopt, or have a surrogate. He doesn’t have to fit into the status quo anymore.

But what if something happens? What if something goes wrong? What if he isn’t able to provide for his child the way they deserve?

It takes some talking down from his Amatus for him to truly relax. The two will need to speak about what they both plan future-wise. And while Dorian may not follow the same ideals as most of Tevinter, he still plans on putting a ring on it before they have kids. After all, they have to have some decorum. But, he also wants to get married because he does love his Amatus and marriage just makes things feel more official.

Iron Bull: 

Platonic: He likes kids, so he gets it, too. He may not outright encourage it, but he assures the Inquisitor how great of a parent they’ll be. Now, if the Inquisitor does end up pregnant, he’s overjoyed… on their behalf… not, like, because he wants to be called an uncle or something… (he wants to be called “uncle” very badly)

He makes the kid an honorary member of the Chargers and attempts to make the little one a onesie that has an embroidered “Bull’s Chargers” lettering on the front.

It takes him all of the pregnancy, but once the baby is born the child has a lovely little onesie that looks incredible. He won’t admit it, but that embroidery took way too long than anyone expected.

Romanced: “We can make that work.” He smiles. Honestly, he assumes that The Inquisitor might have some sort of kink. He’s more than happy to oblige. If the Inquisitor doesn’t clarify what they desire, claiming that they want a baby, Bull watches them closer. He notices small things that make him draw his conclusions. The way his lover holds a small child, how they speak to them, and how sad they look when they have to hand over the child to their parents at the end of the day. He will bring it up in the next few days, and eventually ask them if they want to be parents together, once everything is handled. He wouldn’t mind a kid or two, if his kadan wants it, Bull knows his kadan would be one hell of a parent.

Maker help him if The Inquisitor ends up pregnant, he’s so happy he can’t bother himself by being nervous. Just kidding, he’s super nervous. The Qun doesn’t have fathers, how the hell is he supposed to be there for his kid when he has no idea what kids need?

He needs constant reassurance and ends up going to Krem for advice on taking care of children. Krem had siblings, so he should know… right?

He has his game face on by the time The Inquisitor has the baby, Bull read every single book on childbirth, so he’s basically an expert. He’s all about that counter pressure and breathing techniques, so much so that the midwives are impressed themselves.

Josephine Montilyet: 

Platonic: She sighs, one of those dreamy sighs, “Oh I completely understand, well… a little bit. I’m sure having children is much different from having siblings, so I’m certain it’s better.” 

She knows the Inquisitor isn’t going just to waltz off and get pregnant or get someone else pregnant. But she does clarify if they want a child right then and there. If they say that they intend to have a child as soon as possible, she may faint.

She’s stressed if the Inquisitor or their partner ends up with a child, and gently encourages the pair to get maybe married. Less of a reputation sting that way. If they refuse, she mentally prepares herself for questions from nobles and a few Orlesian nobles who were interested in The Inquisitor themselves.

Romanced: She smiles, “I would… like that.” She says. She’s come from a big family, Josephine would be a liar if she said she didn't want to have a big family of their own. But then she proceeds to clarify “not right now.”

“I do think about children, but you and I both know what a terrible idea it would be to bring them into their lives now." She also clarifies that she intends to cross a few relationship milestones too.

Leliana: A decade younger, Leliana would’ve been right next to The Inquisitor, cooing over the children they affectionately spoke so much about. But Leliana was older… and admittedly more cynical now. It didn’t help that Leliana was now a spymaster in the Inquisition.

“I… understand, but do try to resist any temptation that points you towards… having any children at the moment.” She says plainly.

Maker helps Leliana if The Inquisitor has children with their partner. She’ll end up frustratingly baby-proofing the entirety of Skyhold.

She’s happy when she finally meets the baby, and she can’t help but soften for a little while as she gazes down at the newborn. Her faith somehow returns and any doubts she had over the Maker disappear, as if there was no Maker, how could something so perfect exist? At least, she thinks that until someone looks at her, then she’s all business again.

Sera: 

Platonic: Not interested, or at least, the statement doesn’t faze her. Why would such a badass want little kids? Snotty… annoying… chubby cheeked… super cute- okay, she gets it.

She tells her friend they would probably be a good parent, but would also totally not believe the Inquisitor if they were pregnant or got their partner pregnant. It would only be until she saw The Inquisitor or their partner’s bump that she would accept that maybe they were having a baby.

She loves the kid like a sibling and often offers to make cookies for the baby, not realizing that the baby cannot have solid food for the first few months. She counts down the days when she can goof around with the kid on her own, whenever that might be.

Romanced: Laughs for a while, only to pause when she sees the serious look on her lover’s face. 

“You’re serious? You want…” She thinks for a moment before laughing again, “Yeah… I’d want that too! We’d be great mums!” She giggles.

She’s super on board, and would be the “fun mom.” This means The Inquisitor would be the one that would have to discipline the children. But aside from that, Sera’s all over having kids.

Solas: 

Platonic: High approval Solas would approve, he would nod and tell The Inquisitor that they would be an excellent parent, that they have the wisdom and patience that would be fit for a parent. He advises them to wait, first, as having a child while Corypheus is still at large is a terrible idea.

Low approval, he kind of just nods. He tells them that they should wait if they intend to have a child, as it’s a bad idea. He doesn’t do much else, no encouragement, just a simple shrug, and sigh. He doesn’t care.

Regardless of approval, if the Inquisitor or their partner ends up pregnant, and Solas is still there, he sort of freaks out. His main concern is the mark and its effect on the child, but once that’s ruled out, he still feels guilty. Hopefully, he leaves before the child is born. Because he cracks when he sees them for the first time. Does he really have it in him to end the world when someone as pure and untouched as that child exists? 

It takes some deliberation, but he does. And he leaves, praying he never meets the child ever again.

Romanced: He pauses, were they… serious?

Solas can’t help himself but imagine a life with his vhenan, away from responsibilities, with a few children surrounding the pair. He’d be a liar if that lovely thought didn’t cross his mind when he would steal gazes at his vhenan, but… that’s all it was… right? A thought.

He claims that his vhenan would be an excellent parent, but also ensures that he doesn’t want children, not before Corypheus is defeated. But maybe it’s an accident. He breaks his rule of not sleeping with Lavellan under false pretenses. Once his vhenan is pregnant, his actions depend on The Inquisitor’s dialogue choices. If The Inquisitor were to drink from the Well of Sorrows and then affirm Solas’ choice of fixing the past, he would leave. Not without incredible pain, but he leaves. But if by some chance, by some sliver of a chance, Lavellan says the right things, Solas stays. He hates himself for it, so he promises himself he’ll stay until the birth. Then he looks at his child and weeps. Like if he was platonic, Solas is thrown into turmoil, how could he destroy the world of a child? His child? So he resolves to stay and give up on his mission.

On another note, if he leaves, and Lavellan sees him in Trespasser, he’s more willing to take his vhenan and his child with him.

Varric Tethras: 

Platonic: Varric laughs, “Now that would be a twist… The great Inquisitor, changing diapers in between closing rifts and demon fights.” He smiles to himself. 

As a dwarf, their fertility is comparatively lower than the other races, and honestly, he never thought of himself as a parent, at least, not until he met and started parenting Cole. Of course, he doubts he’ll ever have his own family, Bianca and he, it would never work out. But he can understand the desire. 

He laughs so hard he cries if The Inquisitor or their partner ends up with a kid, like, hunched over, can’t breathe laughing. 

He’s nervous for The Inquisitor, though, he knows how hard it is to be a parent, but having a kid while they’re so… important? It’s a recipe for disaster.

Might end up writing the kid out of the story if The Inquisitor requests, maybe The Inquisitor doesn’t want anyone knowing they potentially had a child out of wedlock.

Romanced: Varric doesn’t laugh, he just smiles. He hadn’t started thinking about having a family until he and The Inquistor started going out officially. He nods, 

“I’d like that too.” He says, and the pair might find themselves discussing their future more often. Names for future children, where they’d live, does the Inqusitor want a dog?

He reminds his lover that Dwarves aren’t known for their fertility, but reminds his lover that “they can still try” and winks at his lover. 

Varric is so caught up in the feeling of being loved so freely, that he sometimes forgets that there’s an evil, red-lyrium magister that wants to rip his lover apart piece by piece. It get’s him nervous, but he’s confident in their shared abilities. And damnit, he loves The Inquisitor, he’s not giving up on them.

He’s speechless if his lover comes up to him and confesses that they’re pregnant, like… actually speechless. He opens his mouth to say something before closing it. Then he just smiles and throws his arms around his lover and says that he loves them. He’s happy to be a dad… he’s happy to have a family, he’s happy to have something he never thought would be his.

Vivienne: She doesn’t laugh, at all. She’s kind of pissed.

“You aren’t planning on bringing in a child now? Not here, right?” She has to clarify.

She thinks the Inquisitor and their partner will be wonderful parents, but they shouldn’t have kids right then. They need to wait. 

If the Inquisitor ends up pregnant/getting someone else pregnant, she scolds them fairly harshly, not to be mean or anything, she’s just upset with how “careless” they could be. If the Inquisitor tells her off or, Maker forbid, starts crying, she’ll feel bad. She doesn’t apologize, however, she knows that having a child while the world is still basically in peril and you’re the main person preventing utter chaos is one of the worst things you can do. 

However, the second the child comes into the world, she’s all over them. She isn’t obvious and wouldn’t be caught dead with the kid on her own, but she can’t help but smile when she sees them all swaddled or when they look so chubby she just wants to eat them up. Only when she sees what a wonderful parent the Inquisitor is, she apologizes for being harsh. She does it in her way, so the Inquisitor shouldn’t expect an “I’m sorry” or anything, but they will get some sort of comment on how she may or may not have been wrong to judge them. Regardless, the Inquisitor better take what they can get.

[wizardofozymandias]

14 Days of DA Lovers Prompts, Day 3: “You Drive Me Crazy”

Written for the @14daysdalovers prompt event. 

Prompt: “You Drive Me Crazy”

Pairing: Varric/Female Hawke

Characters: Varric Tethras, Marian Hawke

Warnings: Mentions of Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Injury, Self-Destructive Behavior

Summary: When Hawke almost dies fighting the Arishok, Varric ends up exposing more of his heart than he planned the next time he talks to her. 

It was three days before Hawke was awake for more than a few minutes at a time. Every time she woke up, she was in a haze of pain. The last thing she remembered was someone shouting about “the Champion of Kirkwall,” just before she collapsed in a pool of her own blood. 

Voices drifted in and out of her dreams. Sometimes she heard one of her friends (it seemed to be Anders often) while at other times she heard Carver or Bethany or her mother. The speakers never seemed to materialize; she only heard their voices, and never any words she could understand. The only exception was when her mother kept calling her Marian. At least I can remember my own name, Hawke thought. That should count for something. 

Three days after the duel, Hawke finally opened her eyes and the room didn’t swim away into the dark. Every inch of her ached. She wondered if this was how a sword felt on a blacksmith’s anvil. Good thing swords couldn’t think or feel—at least as far as she knew.

She turned her head. When did my head turn into an iron cauldron full of oatmeal? was the first thought that crossed her mind. Her skull felt so heavy, while her brains felt like mush.

The thought of oatmeal, of mush, sent her stomach churning, which made her head hurt worse. Although “worse” seemed an irrelevant concept. Measurements of pain didn’t seem to apply anymore, once you had reached “molten metal being pounded into shape by a hammer” levels of misery. 

A groan staggered its way up her throat, tripped, and came out half a cough. The motion rattled her ribs and made her eyes water.

“Hawke!” came a quiet voice from nearby.

The faint firelight revealed that Varric had been sitting nearby, keeping watch over her.

“Hey,” she said. Or at least, that was what she tried to say. The sound that emerged from her scratchy, parched throat was more like a rusty door hinge creaking open. She cleared her throat, winced, and tried again. “Hello, Varric.” At least it sounded like words this time.

“Hello, yourself.”

“How long have you been here?” she asked.

“Me?” he looked incredulous. “I’ve been in your house for the past three days, ever since they brought the newly-minted Champion of Kirkwall through the door, bleeding like a villain in a Summerday pantomime.”

Hawke tried to laugh. She wheezed instead, but even that hurt. “I guess I took a beating, didn’t I?”

Varric let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s an understatement.”

“You sound upset.”

He took a minute to reply. That was usually a sign that he was holding back his temper. “Hawke, it’s no time to talk about this. I know it’s not. But I’m not sure it can wait.”

Hawke tried to roll over to face him, but her body wouldn’t move. The pain radiated again. “I would at least turn over to look at you, but I’m, uh, stuck,” she rasped.

Varric looked like she had stabbed him. “Oh, Hawke,” he said. “You’re a wreck.”

She let out the pathetic wheeze that currently served as her laugh. “Tell me something I don’t know. And don’t look at me like I’m dead.”

Varric took a deep breath, then stared down at his hands, laced tight in his lap. “Hawke, what was that duel?”

“Other than our best chance to stop the Qunari from taking the city?”

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“You’re gonna have to spell it out for me,” she told him. “I’m not in much shape to think.”

“I’ve seen you fight,” Varric said. His voice was full of barely-restrained emotion. The same voice she had heard him use once before, with Bartrand. “I’ve seen you fight mercenaries and burglars and Qunari. Hell, I’ve even seen you fight a dragon.”

“Living the dream,” Hawke murmured.

“Okay, there, Chuckles. Less joking, more listening. I’m serious this time.”

“I know,” Hawke wheezed. “You sound like you’re about to pull out Bianca and turn me into a pincushion. I’m hoping my jokes might save my hide.”

“Don’t quit your day job,” Varric advised. “My point is, I know how you fight, Hawke. And what I saw three days ago was nothing like that. You egged him on, left yourself open too many times, took too many hits. Worst of all, you looked like you were enjoying it, every time he landed a blow.”

“Varric, I—”

“Listen to me. I know you’re hurting, I know losing your mom hurt you worse than you’ll admit. But Hawke, I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Watching you try to kill yourself.”

“I thought you supported the duel with the Arishok.”

“I did! Because I knew you could take him! Shit, Hawke, you could’ve wiped the floor with that blowhard. But when you walked in there, I could tell you didn’t want to walk out. I don’t know what kind of crazy death wish you’re carrying around, but you need to let it go.”

She closed her eyes, wishing for a minute that she could just go back to sleep again. But Varric had found her out, and she knew it was pointless to try and hide anything now. “Was it that obvious?” she said. 

“To the others? Probably not. But you’re my best friend, Hawke. Shit, I never thought I’d care about anything in this damn town. And then I met you. I don’t have any family left that will claim me, but you and the others are more family to me than Bartrand ever was. And—you—you matter to me too damn much for me to sit by and watch you destroy yourself.” He seemed to be wrestling with what he was about to say next. Finally, he soldiered on. “Andraste’s ass, Hawke. I love you. I never thought I’d say that to someone again. But you walked into my life and settled in like you owned the place. I love you, and you drive me crazy. You get into more scrapes than anyone I’ve ever met and you probably should’ve died ten times over by now. Which is why I can’t stand to see you give up. Not like this. So, whatever problems you have, tell me next time. Or, shit, tell whoever you want. Daisy or Blondie are probably way better listeners than I am. Whatever it takes, just don’t throw your life away.”

If Hawke hadn’t been in her current state of severe injury, she absolutely would’ve had a stronger reaction to everything Varric had just told her. But considering her head still felt like a half-mashed potato, she wound up gaping at him like a cod someone had just hauled out of the harbor. 

With an uncharacteristic show of restraint, Varric ignored her dumbfounded state. “You don’t have to say anything,” he told her. “Just promise me you’ll keep trying to survive. If you can’t do it for your own sake. . .well, it might be selfish of me to say, but I’d like you to do it for mine.”

[pikapeppa]

Samson/Roman Hawke: Feelings

Some Samson & Roman Hawke fluff for @schoute​! Well, as fluffy as these grouchy bastards ever get, in any case. Featuring Isabela and Anders being nosy bitches very good friends. 😂

~4500 words; read on AO3 instead. 

*****************

Isabela pointed at a small ship in the Fereldan section of the docks. “... and you see that little skiff there? She’s a lovely little thing if you’re looking for something speedy. Perfect for smuggling. But that’s not what I want.” She sighed and leaned against a nearby salt-stained barrel. “What I want is—” 

Anders interrupted her. “– a full-bodied ship that can take a good pounding, with lots of room for booty. We know.”

Isabela smirked at him. “So you do listen, then. And here I thought that brain of yours was totally tied up with medicine or that mage-rights stuff.”

Anders huffed. “You say that as though you disagree with my so-called ‘mage rights stuff’. I know you agree with me, even if you won’t talk about it.” 

Isabela tsked and folded her arms. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that you should take a stand!” Anders exclaimed. “Staying quiet about mage rights is as good as condoning their poor treatment by the Templars! Right, Hawke?” He nudged Roman with his elbow. 

Roman jolted and looked at him. “What?”

Isabela snickered. “See, even Hawke is bored of hearing you talk about this all the time.” 

“She’s not bored,” Anders retorted. “She just wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s what being bored means, you blond fool,” Isabela drawled. She pushed away from the barrel she was leaning on and sidled up to Roman. “What are you looking at, sweet thing?” 

“No one – I mean, nothing,” Roman said brusquely. 

Isabela’s eyebrow rose in a sly gesture. “No one? So you were looking at someone, then.” She peered with interest in the direction that Roman had been facing. “Is it a big burly sailor? I’m willing to go halves with you if you want.”

Roman grunted and elbowed Isabela. “There’s no fucking sailor. I wasn’t looking at–”

Anders cut in. “You were looking at Samson, weren’t you?” 

Roman scowled at him, and Isabela wrinkled her nose. “Oh. Really?” 

Roman forced herself not to look at Samson, who was standing by the pier about a hundred paces away and asking passersby for coin. “Mind your own fucking business,” she scolded.

Anders’ expression became serious. “Listen, Hawke. As your friend, I — look, I’m not judging you–”

“I am,” Isabela said. “Samson hasn’t got a single muscle to his name. How can he even fuck you properly when he’s so thin?”

“He’s not that thin,” Roman retorted without thinking. 

Isabela’s face lit up. “So he’s a good lay, then?”

Damn it, Roman thought furiously. Why had she opened her bloody mouth? Why? 

“Maker’s fucking mercy, will you butt out?” she snapped. It had been a week since Isabela, Varric and Anders had witnessed Roman’s embarrassingly public argument with Samson at the Hanged Man — an argument that had, regrettably, ended with Roman and Samson fucking furiously in a nearby alley. 

Not that any of her companions had witnessed their tawdry but torrid alleyway fuck. But that didn’t stop Roman’s companions from jumping to conclusions that were, unfortunately, true.

Roman had hoped that her refusal to talk about it would make her companions leave her alone. The strategy had mostly worked with Varric, who had said nothing more about it than ‘let me know if you want to talk’, which was only mildly irritating.

Anders and Isabela, on the other hand, were a pair of gossipy assholes. Not that there was anything to gossip about, since Roman hadn’t spoken to Samson at all since the alleyway incident. 

“As I was saying,” Anders said with a chiding look at Isabela, “I’m not judging you. But as your friend, I should, um, warn you that intimate physical contact with Samson might not be the… safest idea.”

Roman gave him a suspicious look. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Isabela wrinkled her nose. “Anders, are you sure you’re speaking as a friend and not as ‘the doctor of the free clinic who’s trying to act like he hasn’t seen Samson’s cock’?” 

Roman stared at him. “Wait, have you?”

“No,” Anders blurted. “No, I—” He clamped his lips together, then seemed to collect himself and straightened up. “I’m not at liberty to discuss my patients. But–”

Isabela interrupted him. “So Samson has been your patient, then. What for? A skin rash? Something that Hawke could catch? Was it crabs? Maker, I hope it wasn’t crabs.” She turned to Roman with a grimace. “You haven’t had any itching, have you?”

“Shut up!” Roman hissed. “Just shut up, will you? Both of you.” She pointed at Isabela. “You keep the fuck out of it. I’m not giving you any dirty details.”

Isabela pouted. “You’re no fun.” 

Roman ignored her and pointed at Anders. “And you. Stop trying to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. If I want to know if Samson has a… a fucking rash or something, I’ll just ask him myself.” 

“Will you really?” Anders said. “I thought you hadn’t spoken to him since the, uh, argument.”

Roman recoiled slightly. How did Anders know that? “What’s it to you?” she demanded. 

He gave her an exasperated look. “Like it or not, Hawke, I do actually consider us to be friends,” he drawled. “And guess what? Surprise! I care about my friends and their wellbeing! Who would’ve guessed?”

Isabela tsked. “You didn’t seem to care about me too much the other day when I ran out of coin at the Blooming Rose.”

He smirked at her. “It’s not that I didn’t care. It’s that I cared more about watching you talk your way out of being thrown out by Madame Lusine.” 

Isabela rolled her eyes and turned to Hawke. “Anyway,” she said. “When you said Samson isn’t that skinny, what exactly—” 

Roman had suddenly had enough. “Shut up,” she snarled. “Shut the fuck up, okay? Leave me alone.” She turned on her heel and stormed away. 

After about five furious steps, she realized that she didn't know where she was going. She couldn’t very well storm over to Samson while Anders and Isabela were watching like greedy vultures. But she also didn’t want to leave the docks, since Samson was here. 

But why the fuck did it matter if he was here, if she wasn’t planning on talking to him?

At that moment, Samson glanced over and caught her eye.

Her belly twisted. When his usual weary expression started shifting into surprise, her guts twisted even more. 

She abruptly changed the direction she was walking and stalked away from him to the opposite end of the pier, silently cursing herself and him the entire way. 

Fifteen minutes later, when Roman was feeling a bit less rattled – and, incidentally, had confirmed that Anders and Isabela had left the docks – she made her way back along the pier in Samson’s direction. He was in the same area, but now he was sitting idly on a dilapidated crate against the shaded wall of a cheap dockside inn. Or at least it looked like he was idle. But Roman knew his habits well enough. She knew his idle-looking loitering just meant he was listening carefully to what passersby were saying, in case anyone said anything of interest that he could trade for coin or other favours. 

She stalked over to him and sat abruptly beside him on a second dilapidated crate, and he jumped. “Maker’s–” he cursed, then recoiled slightly as he recognized her. “Bird? What are you–”

She thrust a steaming and greasy newspaper-wrapped packet at him. “Here.”

His eyebrows rose. “What’s — is that fish and chips?”

“Obviously,” she said snarkily.

He frowned. “What are you giving this to me for?”

Roman gave him an exasperated look. “To do a fucking tap dance on it. What do you think? To eat it, obviously.”

Samson cautiously took the fish and chips, and Roman folded her arms. “I ate half of it. I couldn’t finish the rest.”

He opened the packet slowly, then raised an eyebrow at her. “You sure you ate half of this? Looks untouched to me.���

Roman scowled at him. “Look, d’you want it or not?”

“‘Course I do,” Samson said. “I’m not too proud to turn down my first hot meal in a week.” He gave her a twisted half-smile, then started eating. 

Roman just sat there beside him as he ate. He didn’t speak and neither did she, and by the time he was finishing his meal, Roman’s shoulders felt slightly less tense than they had all day. 

He sighed in satisfaction and crumpled up the newspaper, then glanced at her. “So. What’s happening with you?”

“What do you mean?” she said.

He shrugged. “Well, your knickers are in a twist. Who crossed you?”

She scowled. “My knickers aren’t fucking twisted. I’m fine.”

He sighed. “All right, all right. Just asking.”

The silence stretched between them again, but it was rather dour this time, and Roman began to feel a cold wriggle of guilt — a feeling that only worsened when Samson broke the awkward silence between them. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Bird,” he said quietly. “I was just wondering how you were. It’s been a minute since you came ‘round.”

Her heart squeezed in an uncomfortable way. “I’m fine,” she said again. Then she shot him a resentful look. “Why do you care, anyway?”

He arched one brow. “I did mention it’s been a while since my last hot meal, right?”

A flicker of anger came to life in her belly. “So what, I’m your fucking meal ticket? That’s why you were wondering where I was?”

“That’s not the only reason,” he replied.

She glared at him in silence. His brows were drawn in a frown, but his eyes were steady on her face — unnervingly steady, in fact. 

A sudden flash of memory crossed her mind: the intensity of his stormcloud-grey eyes when he was pushing up her skirt and sliding his callused fingers up the inside of her thigh.

A flush of heat burned hotly through her limbs and throat and straight to her mouth. “Fuck you,” she burst out. 

His eyes narrowed. “No, Bird. Fuck you.”

She glared at him for a moment more. Then, for some reason, a snort of laughter escaped her. 

Samson stared at her. Then a slow smile crept across his narrow face. He chuckled and rubbed his stubbled chin. “Maker’s bloody balls. You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

She huffed, then settled back against the brick wall. “You sound like my uncle. And my brother.”

“Well, that’s not disturbing,” he drawled. 

She shot him a dirty look, then relaxed a little more at the sarcastic curl of his smile. She shifted slightly on her crate, brushing her shoulder to his in the process. “Ah, I take it back. You stink more than both of them,” she said. Never mind that she liked the unique melding of his woodsy masculine musk with the twang of lyrium that always hung around him.   

Samson clicked his tongue. “If you’re looking to cut my balls off, you’re too late. The Templars already have ‘em in storage somewhere.”

She shot him a sharp look. She hated how he always talked about the Templars like they’d defeated him. 

He glanced at her, then wilted slightly. “Ah, come on, Bird, it was a joke. Lighten up a little, will you?”

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before speaking again. “Let me know where your balls are stored, and I’ll get them back for you next time I go to the Gallows.” 

He chuckled again — that rough-sounding heh-heh-heh that made something shiver deep in her belly. “Nice,” he said. “That was almost funny.” 

“Fuck you,” she said again, but with no ire this time. “I’m hilarious.” 

“By qunari standards, maybe,” he remarked. “Sense of humour like that, they should send you in to negotiate with that big qunari chief.” 

Roman huffed a little laugh at the idea. If anyone ever asked her to talk to the qunari, she’d laugh right in their face before telling them to take a long walk off a short pier. 

They fell quiet once more, but it was an oddly peaceful silence this time, and Roman slowly realized that this was the first time all week that she hadn’t been feeling at the edge of her temper.  

Then, even more slowly, she realized that she was leaning into Samson’s shoulder, and that he wasn’t moving away. 

She could feel the heat of his arm through his threadbare shirt. A strange jittery feeling began to rattle in her belly, and she licked her dry lips and stared vacantly at the Waking Sea while the warmth of Samson’s skin bled through both of their sleeves to spread across her arm. 

She was so focused on the strange pleasantness of his arm against hers that she actually jumped when he spoke again. “Can I ask you something without you biting my head off?” he said.

She instinctively shifted away from him. “That depends. Are you going to ask me something fucking stupid?”

He gave her a weary look. “Come on, Bird. You’re breaking my balls here.”

I thought the Templars had those, she thought snidely, but the seriousness of his expression stopped her from making the snarky remark. She sighed. “All right, fine. Ask your fucking question.”

“Don’t you ever…” He trailed off, then rubbed his forehead. “Maker’s balls.”

She frowned, her curiosity and nerves piqued now by his hesitation. “What?”

He sighed, then lowered his hand and gave her a frank look. “I’m askin’ this out of curiosity, all right? Not because I was a Templar.”

She scoffed and folded her arms to hide her growing discomfiture. “This is going to be good.”

He sighed again and ran his hand over his hair. Then, to her surprise, he shifted closer to her and leaned in close. “You never worry about getting possessed by demons?” he asked in a very quiet voice.

Her heart jammed itself in her throat, and she swallowed hard. “Excuse me?” she croaked.

He gave her a chiding look. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Why are you asking me this?” she said in a hard tone.

“Because you’re a blood mage who’s angry all the time,” he said, very quietly. “If you was anybody else, I’d have put a royal on you being demon fodder already.” 

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” she demanded. 

“I just mean…” He faltered, then smoothed a hand over his hair once more, and Roman was vindictively satisfied to note that his expression was slowly twisting with discomfort. “I just meant you’re… you’re too smart to not have thought about it, all right?” Then he made a little face. “Well, I mean… not smart enough to not use blood magic, but smart enough to know how dangerous it is.”

She glared at him. There were compliments buried in what he’d said, but his judgment about her blood magic was overpowering enough to cover any praise he might have been trying to give. 

She dropped her voice to a furious whisper. “Will you fuck off for even one second about me using blood magic? I never use anyone’s blood but my own. I never do spells that are bigger than I can handle. I’m not a fucking idiot, and if you’d stop jumping down my throat every time I–” 

He cut her off with a loud groan. “Look, forget I said anything, all right? Bloody impossible trying to have a conversation with you.” He glared at her with his steely bloodshot eyes. “That’s all I was trying to do, Bird. It was just a question. It wasn’t a bloody accusation. I’m not trying to trick you and drag you off to the Gallows. It was just a question.”

Just a question, he said. It sounded innocent enough, but Roman knew better; her father had long taught her and Bethany that questions about magic should never be taken at face value. It was careless and stupid of Roman to let Samson witness her use of blood magic in the first place. Ever since she’d returned from the deep roads, it had been getting harder to hide the fact that she was a mage. If it became widely known that she practiced blood magic, the blowback on her family would be bad, especially now that Carver was a fucking Templar.

But Samson had never told anyone that she was a blood mage. He’d kept this information to himself, even though he could have sold it in a heartbeat to any number of people who wanted to take Roman down a peg. And sure, maybe he picked on her once in a while about it, but his picking usually took the form of macabre jokes or sarcasm, and Roman would take dark humour over her family’s self-righteous censure any day. 

She shot Samson a dirty look, then dropped her gaze to her hands and picked at the red scarf around her wrist — one of a stock of scarves she used to mop herself up after channeling the power of her own blood. As the moments of silence ticked by, her anger gradually ebbed away, and she was able to consider the question he’d asked.

Of course she thought about being possessed by demons. It was something she thought about every time she slashed her arm to pull on a thread of the heady power that was held in her veins. But she couldn’t admit this to her family; they’d just scold or nag her even more than they already did. Admitting it to Samson, on the other hand… 

Maybe he really was just curious. Maybe he honestly did just want to have a conversation. But did she dare give him an honest answer?

Finally she sighed and folded her arms. “Sometimes I wonder if I am a rage demon,” she said. “I’m so…” She broke off and looked away. 

He shifted slightly on his crate. From the corner of her eye, she could see him looking at her. But he didn’t speak, and something about his silent attention prompted her to finish her sentence. 

“I’m so fucking pissed all the time,” she said tightly. 

Samson grunted. “If you were a rage demon, that would explain a lot.”

She looked at him, thrown off by his unexpected response. “Like what?”

“Like how you’re such a wildcat in the sack,” he said. “Or against the wall, I should say.”

She gaped at him, surprised that he’d mentioned their impromptu fuck so bluntly. There was a wicked slant to his eyebrows and the corners of his lips now, and for some incomprehensible reason, it made her smile. 

She scoffed and punched him in the arm. “That’s desire demons, you fucking idiot.”

He nodded. “Right, right.”

She relaxed back against the wall. “I thought you’re supposed to know that shit with your Templar training and all. Doesn’t your training include some kind of handy guidebook to demons?”

He huffed out one of those rough-sounding chuckles. “If it did, I don’t remember. Too busy passing love letters for randy mages.”

Roman smirked at him. When he gave her a little half-smile, something in her chest jolted in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

She looked away from him and off toward the Waking Sea once more. The water was slapping gently against the ships in the harbour, and when Samson eventually spoke once more, his gravelly voice was a pleasant contrast with the water’s soft hush and flow. 

“Have you always been like this?” he asked.

“Like what?” she said.

He gestured vaguely at her. “You know. Pissy all the time.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, but despite his tactless words, his expression was quite sincere. She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “A long time.” And honestly, if she was forced to think about it, she couldn’t quite put a finger on when she’d started feeling this… this persistent, low-level simmering of anger that always seemed like it was just a few words away from boiling over.

When had she started feeling so angry all the time? Was it when her mother had blamed her for Bethany being torn apart by that fucking ogre? Was it when Father had died, and her mother became even more dependent and demanding? Was it further back, when the boy she’d first had sex with suddenly decided he didn’t want anything to do with her anymore? Or was it even further back than that, when she was a child and she’d first started noticing that other people’s parents didn’t talk to each other in those quiet furious voices that sounded like kettles hissing?

She swallowed the growing lump in her throat, then pinned him with a hard look. “When did you start being all pessimistic and thinking your life isn’t worth shit?” she said snidely.

He recoiled slightly, then coughed out a bitter-sounding laugh. “When I joined the Templars and got put on a leash, of course.”

She turned to face him more fully. “You’re not a fucking Templar anymore.”

“As you’re always reminding me,” he drawled.

“I always mean it as a good thing, you dumbass,” she retorted. “They were better when they had you. They were better when they actually had someone who gave a fuck about people. But they’d have ruined you.” She settled back against the wall once more. “You’re better off without them.”

He gave her a deeply skeptical look. “You really think that?”

“Yes,” she said fiercely. “There’s no worse place in the world than a Chantry Circle. I’d rather be an apostate hiding for my entire life than be trapped in a fucking tower with Chantry sisters telling me I’m a sinful piece of shit for being born a mage.” 

His face was deadly serious now. “I wasn’t born that way, Bird.”

“But they made you this way,” she insisted. “It’s their fault you’re on the streets. It’s not some failing of yours. You’re better than them. They — they tried to ruin you, but they didn’t, all right?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. Calm down before you turn into a rage demon.” 

She scoffed and punched his arm. “Fuck you.”

“Is that you asking?” he said. 

Her belly hopped with nerves, and she shot him a sharp look. This was the second time he was referencing their clinch in the alleyway.

“Come on,” he said. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” 

His expression was sly and knowing, and his raspy voice was softened with a hint of coaxing. She glared at him for a second, then shrugged irritably. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I’m just wondering if it might happen again,” he said.

“I don’t know, okay?” she said curtly. “I don’t — I don’t know.” Fucking him had been such a stupid thing to do. Not because they’d been half-drunk or because it was in an alley, or because of whatever vague gross reasons Anders had been hinting at. It was stupid for her to fuck Samson because… ugh, because she liked him. 

Roman hated the fact that she liked Samson. She hated the fact that she gave a shit what happened to him. In her opinion, there was nothing stupider you could do than get into a sexual relationship with someone you actually gave a shit about.

Samson shrugged. “Well, I had a good time. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

She glowered at him, and he let out an incredulous laugh. “Andraste’s tits. It’s a compliment, Bird. What’s wrong, didn’t you enjoy it?”

His tone was mocking, and it pissed her off. But what pissed her off even more was that he was right. ‘Enjoying it’ didn’t even begin to cover how good he’d made her body feel. It was a full week after their impetuous tryst in a dank and darkened alley, and she still couldn’t stop replaying the memories of his voice panting harshly in her ear, or the blissful roughness of his hands grabbing her hips and the rough rhythm of his cock pounding into her. 

But that wasn’t the fucking point. 

She stood up abruptly. “I’ll see you,” she said tersely, and she started to walk away.

He grabbed her arm to stop her, and she glared at him. “Let me go,” she said coldly. 

He released her and leaned forward on his elbows. “I don’t think your little ‘bad habit’ has ruined you, either,” he said quietly. The corners of his lips turned up slightly. “For what it’s worth from a run-down ex-Templar, anyway.”

She stared at him, tongue-tied with her heart pounding in her ears. The way he was looking at her now, with that tiny hint of a smile and that weary look of wariness in his unnervingly clear grey eyes… 

Fuck, there was a lump in her throat again. She swallowed hard and defensively folded her arms. “So what, you’d still fuck me if I turned into an abomination?” she said sarcastically.

A crooked smile lit his gaunt face. “Sure would be a good way to go.”

She stared at him for a second longer. His stupid sick jokes actually made her want to laugh. 

And for some stupid, sick, fucked-up reason, that just made her all the more eager to leave his company, even though his company was what she’d really wanted all week.

“Whatever,” she grunted, then walked away. 

I should just stop talking to him, she thought. The calm she felt sometimes from being near him was never worth the uneasy irritability that ensued after she left him behind. But she’d spent this whole week feeling increasingly irritable when she was purposely avoiding him… 

She scowled as she made her way to the Hanged Man. This is the problem with liking someone, she thought. These treacherous feelings wormed their way into your brain and made your mood go all over the place, and they made you look like an idiot in front of your friends. And worst of all, they made you so fucking vulnerable.

This only meant one thing: Roman couldn’t fuck Samson again. No matter how much she wanted to, no matter how much her nights were interrupted by thoughts of his tongue between her legs and what he might look like naked, she couldn’t fuck him again. 

I won’t, she told herself fiercely. I won’t do it again, and that’s the end of it. With her resolve grimly set in place, she left the docks – and Samson – behind.

[degenerate-perturbation]

Chapters: 17/28 Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe, Oghren (Dragon Age), Justice (Dragon Age), Sigrun (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Isabela (Dragon Age), Male Hawke (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic, Prostitution Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one shackled next to you, save for the chains that bound you both?

 Yvanne searched nearly an hour for a pub that wasn’t the Hanged Man, got horribly lost, and somehow ended up at the Hanged Man anyway.Was the damn place somehow the only pub in the city? But by that point she was sick and tired of walking, and so went ahead inside.

 It was less crowded now, but for whatever reason, still serving. Though this time, her prospects for getting some unscrupulous lecher to put her up didn’t seem nearly as good.

 She’d have to barter. How hard could it be? She’d done it before in the Denerim markets, and she’d carried Hawke’s stupid candlestick all this way.

 Five minutes deep into a screaming argument with the bartender about how much exactly the gilding on the candlestick was worth, she saw motion in the corner of her eye as someone approached.

 “What’s with all the fuss?” said the outlandish woman she’d met before—Isabela? She wasn’t jingling quite so much this time. She was barefoot and divested of most of her gold. Her mussed hair and squinty eyes suggested that she’d been sleeping.

 “You again?” Yvanne said, not lowering the candlestick. “What, do you live here or something?”

 “I’ve got a room here. And what about it?” She raised an eyebrow. “The real question is why you’re waving a candlestick around and causing all this fuss.“

 “If this ginger idiot would just take the damn candlestick there wouldn’t be any fuss.” She rounded back on the bartender. “Look, you wretched man, this is      real gold,    it’s more valuable than anything you’ve ever seen in your life.”

 “She with you, Bela?” sighed the bartender.

 “Sure she is,” said Isabela, and turned smiling to her. “Now how about you stop waving that thing around before you hurt someone?”

 “I’ll definitely  hurt someone if you don’t leave me the—”

 “Come on, now,” said Isabela. She snatched Yvanne by her candlestick-wielding elbow and all but dragged her to a secluded nook. The other woman was a good deal stronger than her; Yvanne doubted she’d be match for her, without magic.

 “Right,” said Isabela, letting her go. “Care to explain?”

 “Care to mind your own business?” Yvanne shot back, yanking her arm away.

 “Well, not if you’re going to be bludgeoning my favorite bartender.”

 “I’ll bludgeon      you.”  

 “Really? Will you? Go on, then.” Isabela took a seat on a bench and swung an ankle onto her knee, leaning back.

 “Look here,” Yvanne said, jabbing the candlestick in her direction, but decidedly not doing any bludgeoning. “I have just about      had    it with all of this. I’ve been robbed, blackmailed, menaced. I’ve gone without food or drink or sleep or comfort, nearly puked my guts out, lost about everyone I’ve ever cared about, put up with your dwarf friend’s horrible jokes, been sobbed on by a soggy nobleman, and now I’m being prevented from even buying myself a drink. I’m at my      fucking    limit and I am—sick—of—all—this—      shit!”  

 The other woman nodded. “Been there. Want a drink?”

 “No thanks,” Yvanne said exhaustedly, and collapsed into a chair. She pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes. Maker, she was tired.

 Isabela sighed. “Look,” she said. “I’m sorry about earlier. I saw that man come at you, and couldn’t help but be reminded of myself when I was younger.”

 It wasn’t surprising. Isabela looked a good deal more like Yvanne than Hawke did. “I’m not that young.”

 “Never said you were. Just thought you looked a little lost.”

 “And what about it?”

 They sat in silence for a moment.

 “Varric told me who you are and what you were doing here,” Isabela said eventually. “Sorry if you didn’t want people to know. He can’t resist a good secret.”

 “Figures,” Yvanne muttered. But she supposed it didn’t really matter. She wasn’t an apostate, or a deserter. Nobody was looking for her. Nobody cared about where she was, one way or the other.

 “So judging by the fact that you seem to be trying to barter for booze with one of Hawke’s candlesticks, I guess meeting him didn’t go over too well.”

 “How do you know this is Hawke’s?” Yvanne said defensively.

 Isabela tapped it one of the candelestick’s stems, slightly bent. “I remember the exact incident where this got dented. It involved a burglar, a coopful of chickens, and a very ornery—well, nevermind. It’s from Hawke’s place, I recognize it.”

 “Aren’t you perceptive.”

 “You have to be, in my line of work.”

 Yvanne put the pilfered candlestick on the (uncomfortably sticky) table. “Want it back?” she said, shamed. “Don’t think I’m having much luck persuading the damn bartender it’s worth anything.”

 “No, no. I encourage petty theft, as a matter of principle. Actually, if you need a fence, I know a few guys.”

 “Uh. No thanks.” She looked at her distorted reflection in the shiny gold. “I get that he’s your friend, but talking to him…I just couldn’t.”

 “Just because someone’s family doesn’t mean they’re      family.    Like I said. Been there.“

 “Well. Thanks.” Yvanne hesitated. “I heard the dwarf calling you ‘Rivaini.’ Is that where you’re from?”

 Isabela shrugged. “Why do you want to know?”

 “I might go to Rivain.”

 “What for?”

     Because there is the barest chance my mother might be there. Because I have nowhere else tolerable to go and nothing else tolerable to do, and if I don’t do something, I might just fucking kill myself.  

 “Don’t really know,” said Yvanne.

 “How are you planning on getting there, then?”

 “I’ll figure something out.”

 Isabela gave her a look that was endlessly, awfully patient.

 “Look,” she said, “judging by the fact that you’re bartering with stolen candlesticks, I’m guessing you aren’t long on funds. You can try and stow away, but that’s risky. I wouldn’t bother unless you’re really desperate. But I can do you one better—I can offer you a job.”

  “What sort of job?” Yvanne said, wary.

 “A few of us were going to go down to the Wounded Coast to deal with some slavers. Fenris is really chomping at the bit to go clear them out, but it’s hard to get a good crew together without Hawke—he’s everyone’s mutual friend. And as you saw, right now he’s a bit indisposed. Come with us, help do the job, collect the bounty, and of course there’s always looting to be done. And if that’s not enough, or you can’t find a ship, well, there’s always lots of jobs, if you’re willing to get your hands dirty.”

 “What makes you think I’d be any use against slavers?”

 “Let’s just say you seem formidable, hm? I can get you something better to bludgeon with.”

 “I don’t know…”

 She shrugged. “You’ve got til tomorrow morning. But it’s a standing offer. Like I said, always plenty of jobs.”

 Yvanne sighed. She really did need the money.

 “In the meantime,” said Isabela, “you can stay in my room for the night, if you want. Not that there’s much night left.”

 “I—ah—”

 “Meaning nothing untoward, of course,” she added, perhaps too quickly. “Not that I’m in the habit of taking in strays, but I shudder to think how the red the streets of Kirkwall would run with blood if I let you loose on them still wielding a blunt instrument.”

 Yvanne snorted. Then she looked at her, really looked. Isabela even without her myriad of knives and pounds of jewelry seemed so invincible, and here she was being kind. Whatever Yvanne playacted at being, Isabela was the real thing. And she was really very beautiful.

 She felt, absurdly,      want.  

 Not that it mattered, because Isabela meant nothing untoward. She wasn’t offering, so of course Yvanne wasn’t going to ask. Not when she actually wanted to.

 All of a sudden she was afraid. If she was capable of wanting something like that, what else was she capable of wanting?

 “Thanks,” she said, “but I think I’ll go my own way.”

 Isabela gave a slightly      well-I-tried    shrug. “Suit yourself,” she said, then added, “and good on you.”

 By this time the first rays of the morning sun were crawling across the sky. Yvanne could see the beginnings of it from the window. She left hurriedly, before she had the chance the reconsider.

 Because she could see it, quite easily. Going off on an adventure with Isabela and her friends. Getting to know them, making some money. Probably Hawke, too; that was probably inevitable, if he was everybody’s mutual friend. And once she’d made some money she’d drink it away, and it would be alright, because there’d be another job lined up, just in time. And she’d go again, replenish her purse, spend more time with those people.  It hurt her heart, the way they reminded her of the little simulacrum family she’d built and then abandoned at Vigil’s Keep, and it would never be the same. But perhaps in time it would hurt less and less, and eventually not at all. Maybe next time Isabela      would    mean something untoward, and she’d sleep with her, and that would be fine. She’d learn the inside jokes. She’d make some of her own. She would become another fixture in their shared lives. Would that be so bad?

 Here in this city of bones and poison she would dwell, among something-like-friends, among something-like-family, and it would be better than being alone. A half-shadowed life, after all, was better than a full-shadowed one. A half-shadowed life contained also light.

 But she had once dwelled      all    in light. Not for long; only a few months, all told, of uncomplicated happiness, before Rolan had arrived and spurred on the rot.

 For those few months—golden, perfect—she had known more than base contentment. She had known joy.

 How could she now stand to live half in shadows?

 —

 After most of the morning had passed, she found the docks. She stole breakfast out of a merchant’s stall with the practiced ease of a girl who’d spent her whole childhood hiding things, and her recent adulthood one small disaster away from living in the streets. At the docks, she found a barrel to sit on and eat her mango and watch the dock workers. Her half-baked scheme of stowing away on a vessel bound for Rivain was in fact hardly baked at all, and was almost sure to fail the moment she tried to implement it. She didn’t even know which of these ships were bound for Dairsmuid—if any at all.

 She carefully did not allow herself to think about what she would do when she got to Dairsmuid. Maybe nothing. Maybe she would go live in the swamps by herself and be a mad apostate. Or maybe she wouldn’t live. All she knew was that she needed to not be here, and she had nowhere else to go.

 As she mulled all this over, a hand closed around her upper arm. It caught her off guard; and she was pulled into the alleyway

 Her first thought—      ah! Here it is! I’m going to be robbed and raped, it’s about time!—    was f  ollowed almost immediately by—      no way in hell will the bastard have the satisfaction!    

 She twisted, and bit down hard on her assailant’s hand. He yelled and released her; she spun to face him, deciding which of her most horrible spells to unleash if he touched her again. Her assailant was tall, broad-shouldered, holding a fighting staff wrapped with cloth strips, and—Andraste’s left tit, did he live in the sewers? What was that      smell?    It was bad even by Kirkwall standards.

 “What in the Maker’s name are you      doing    here?” the man hissed.

 “Eating my      fucking    breakfast, you shit-stinking ratman! Let go of me before I beat you to death with your idiot stick, or—Andraste’s tits.” She blinked, as though her eyes deceived her, and all the fight went out of her. “Anders?”

 She was shocked that she recognized him. It had been a few years since she’d seen him, but not      that    many. Anders looked like he’d aged at least a decade. There was grey in his hair and lines on his forehead and around his eyes. He was dressed in what looked like the bedraggled remains of the Tevinter-style robes he’d once favored, pieces of his old Warden uniform, and an awful lot of rags.

 “Maker,” she said, “what happened to you?”

 He glared at her. “If you’re here to arrest me—”

 “Arrest you?” At first she couldn’t even process what he meant by that. “Andraste’s fucking tits, I’m not here to arrest you! Hells, I didn’t even know you were      here.    Is that why you grabbed me? Did you lose your mind along with your earring?”

 He self-consciously, and probably without realizing he was doing it, touched his ear. “I thought—when I heard a woman named Amell was here, I thought the Grey Wardens had come to arrest and charge me for deserting. But I see you’re…not in uniform.”

 "Charitably put,“ she muttered. She probably didn’t look much better off than he did, even if she smelled better. “No, I’m not here to arrest you, and   as a matter of fact my presence in this city has nothing to do with you in the first place.”

 “Alright, alright!” He snorted. “I see you haven’t changed all that much.”

 “      You     have.”

 He brushed a piece of limp greying hair behind his ear. “That’s true.”

 He didn’t      seem    like an insane, gibbering abomination. She had so many questions. Most of them feauring rude words. The rest, variants on Are you alright?

The questions hung in the air like an acrid fog. They weighed her tongue and choked her. So Anders spoke first. “So if you’re not here to arrest me for desertion, what are you doing here?”

 “Don’t.”

 “Is Loriel here—?”

 “      Don’t.”    It came out as a hiss of air.

 He drew back a little in surprise. She wondered what her face had done. After a moment she regained control over herself. “You’re a clever fellow,” she said dully. “You can connect the dots.”

 She didn’t dare look at him. If she saw pity, she would have no choice but to kill herself. “Why did      you    come here, then?”

 “You’re clever, aren’t you?” he said. “I’m sure you can connect the dots.”

 Then she did look up. There was only one good reason that she knew of for Anders to come to Kirkwall. “So did you find him?”

 “Don’t,” he said, pained. And that was all she needed to hear.

 So they stood in the darkened alley by the Kirkwall docks, two people who had known each other, once, lost in their own separate tragedies, together and alone.

 “So why’d you stay?” she said eventually. “Kirkwall’s not exactly friendly to our kind.”

 “That’s exactly why we had to stay.”

 “We?” she said sharply.

 He hesitated. “Justice and I.”

 Her eyes widened. “So it’s true. You let him—”

 “Yes. Keep your voice down, would you?”

 “Can I talk to him?”

 He glanced sharply at her. “I don’t think that would be possible.”

 “We could go somewhere hidden—”

 “No, not because someone might see. I’m a wanted man as it is,“ he said dismissively. "I mean, I don’t think it’s      possible.”  

 “What?”

 “Justice is…he’s gone.”

 Her heart thumped. “You mean he’s dead?”

 “Not exactly. He’s not the same. When we—you know—we did more than join. We became the same being. I can’t tell where he ends and where I begin. We’re something different now.”

 She boggled. “What in the Maker’s left trouser pocket are you talking about?”

 ”  I’m not the person you used to know.”

 "Good thing I knew both of you, then,“ she said irritably. “Nobody’s ever the same person. You’re not special.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Can’t you at least try?” She tried not to let it sound like a whine. “I can help; I’ve learned so much spirit lore since you left. I wanted to help him, back at the Vigil, but then you…can’t you try?”

 He hesitated. “Alright. But make it quick. I think he finds it uncomfortable to borrow my body like this.”

 She held her breath. Anders blinked, and when he opened his eyes, they weren’t his eyes anymore.

 “Justice?” she breathed.

 “Yes.”

 “Maker.” Impulsively, she reached up, put her hands on either side of his face. She had never expected to feel this particular pattern of Fade energy again. “It’s really you.”

 The spirit smiled faintly, as though humoring her. It wasn’t anything like Anders’ smile, but a great deal like the smile she’d seen on Kristoff’s corpse.

 “What’s it      like?”  

 Justice thought about it. “It is different from possessing a corpse. Most of the time I am only a passenger. I try not to intrude.“

 "That sounds unfathomably lonely.”

 "Anders did me a great service in allowing this. Together we will accomplish much.”

 “It’s like you’re trapped, isn’t it?” Her mouth curled into a bitter line. “We would have found you another vessel.”

 “I have no objection to my current status.”

 “But are you happy?”

 “I am fulfilling my purpose.”

 “That’s not what I asked.”

 “I am fulfilling my purpose.” But the second time he said it—unless it was her imagination?—it almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

 She’d almost forgotten what it was like to actually talk to a spirit. They could be awfully single minded. But Justice hadn’t been like that. He’d become more than his purpose. He’d lived in the mortal world, known friendship and love.

 “Do you remember that sparrows’ nest I showed you?” she said dully.

 “Yes. I remember it.”

 “Good. That’s good.”

 “Yes,” he said, slowly, as though it took great effort to retrieve the memory. “It was good.” But then his brow—Anders’ brow—darkened slightly.

 “You should stay here in Kirkwall,” the spirit said. “You should help us.”

 “Help you with what?” she said, caught off guard.

 “Change. We are bringing justice to the mages of Kirkwall.”

 At first she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Then she laughed out loud. “How?”

 “Many ways,“ Justice insisted. "We are healing the wounds of the sick and the poor, to show the people that magic need not be feared. We are disseminating a manifesto. We have contacts who are able to put pressure on the Grand Cleric. We are helping apostates escape the Gallows, guiding them to freedom. Progress is slow, but extant. You could help us.”

 "Manifestos? Civil discussion with the Grand Cleric?” She shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

 "I consider this a matter of deadly seriousness.“ Here Justice’s voice took on the cadence and timbre of Anders’ voice. She wasn’t sure who she was speaking to anymore. "How can you abdicate your responsibility to your fellow mages?”

 This talk was starting to make her angry. It was one thing to hear this talk from a naive spirit, but from Anders? It was too absurd. “You can’t abdicate something you never agreed to take on in the first place. What do I have to do with other mages, besides the unfortunate fact that we all share a curse?”

 “That is exactly the attitude that we are fighting against,” said Justice, or Anders, or maybe there really wasn’t a difference anymore. “Magic isn’t a curse, and it never was.”

 "I can’t listen to this.”

 “Mages are your people. You should seek justice for them.”

 She scowled and spat. “And give up, what? Everything else?”

 “Yes.”

 A part of her wanted to keep arguing. Maybe she just enjoyed conflict a little too much. But the spirit’s face—her old friend’s face—was so pathetically earnest that all her anger drained away.

 “Maker, Justice. It’s not bloody fair, what happened to you.“ Her breath hitched. "You were becoming a person. You knew joy, you knew love. Now it’s like…” She shook her head. “I don’t even know what it’s like. But it’s not fair.”

 She was met only with steady blue fire. “Of course justice is fair. What else could it be?”

 That was about all she could take. “It was good to talk to you, Justice,” she sighed. “Please take care of yourself.”

 The spirit said nothing further; the next time he blinked, the blue light was retreated, and it was only Anders again.

 She looked balefully at him. “How could you? You as good as killed him.”

 “Probably,” Anders said, miserable. “But it’s done. I can’t undo it.”

 “Well,” she tried, suddenly guilty for aggravating what was clearly a sore wound. Could Justice hear them say these things? How much ‘access’ did he have to the outside world when he was hidden? “Maybe I could. Like I said, I’ve been learning a lot of spirit lore. It shouldn’t be impossible.”

 “No,” he said hurriedly. “I don’t think that’s wise. What we’re doing is too important. When we’re like this, there’s so much I can do…I don’t need to sleep or eat much, and my magic has never been more powerful, and…” He caught the look on her face and trailed off. “It’s better this way.”

 He caught her doubtful gaze. “It is,” he insisted.”

 “If you say so.”

 “Look,” he said, with obvious effort, “I don’t have too many friends in this city. The ones I do have…aren’t entirely sympathetic to what I’m trying to achieve. What I’m saying is I could really use someone like you in my corner.”

 “No. No, I don’t think so.” She didn’t say she was sorry. It would have been absurd to say it.

 “I see,” he muttered. “Pressing business elsewhere?”

 “Of a sort,” she said vaguely. “I’m going to Rivain.”

 “Got a ship, have you?”

“Not yet. Was working on it when you assaulted me.”

 “Uh-huh.”

 “You don’t happen to know which of these ships is headed for Dairsmuid? Perhaps one unlikely to notice a stowaway?”

 He shook his head. “Come with me. I know someone who can help.”

 —

 Anders had contacts in the Mage Underground. He took her through the Darktown sewers—that certainly explained the smell. After a long, foul journey, they arrived at the—Yvanne could only call it a den—of a man called Federico, who dealt in “herbs” and owed Anders a favor. Federico didn’t have a ship, but his cousin did.

 Anders and Federico argued for a while, and finally nodded and shook hands.

 “Alright,” Anders told Yvanne. “I got you passage. Federico’s cousin has a ship headed for Dairsmuid. He takes apostates from the Gallows sometimes, but you’ll have to work as a windmage.”

 “A windmage?”

 “A shipboard mage who summons winds in case the ship gets becalmed. It’s not too hard. You’ll be fine.”

 “Windmage? I’ve barely used magic all year. I haven’t cast a wind spell in—Maker, I don’t even know how long—and you think I can be a windmage?”

 Anders shrugged. “Weren’t you the youngest Harrowed mage in several decades of Kinloch students? You’ll be fine.”

 “Anders, I swear—”

 “You’ll be fine!” He cleared his throat. “And another thing—if you want to make it in time, you had better leave now. If you miss the ship, you miss your chance.”

 “What?! I have no idea how to get to the docks, or what this ship even looks like—”

 “Calm down.” Anders rolled his eyes. “I’ll take you.”

 And back in the sewers they went.

 Along the way something occurred to her. “Hey,” she said. “How did you know I was here, anyway? Another one of your sewer contacts?”

 “Sort of,” he said, and then paused for so long that she thought he was finished speaking. Then he said, “Hawke told me.”

 “Hawke!” Yvanne said. “Is there a single person in this wretched city that isn’t acquainted with Hawke? I’m so bloody tired of hearing about Hawke.”

 “Hawke’s a good person,” Anders said defensively. “And a great man.”

 “He’s a pathetic milksop who’s never known a day’s hardship in his life,” Yvanne spat.

 “That’s not true.”

 She snorted. “What are you defending him for?”

 “Not that it’s your business,” Anders snapped, wavering, “but he helps. Our cause, I mean. Even if he doesn’t always agree, he still helps. And he’s been kind to me.”

 Yvanne flashed back to the Amell estate, reprocessed some of Hawke’s ramblings. She put two and two together and was instantly overcome with the monstrous unfairness of it all.

 “Oh, I see,” she said coldly. “You’re shtupping him. That explains it.”

 It was hard to tell in the sewers, but she was gratified to see Anders flush. “Don’t call it that.”

 “It’s all coming together,” she said in a mean sing-song. “Came for one boyfriend, found another. Traded up, too; the new one’s rich! Gotta say, Anders, looks like you’ve really got it made. Servants and silk sheets, and you still get to feel like noble martyr in the bargain—”

 “Shut,” he said, “up.”  

 The sewer filled with blue light and the too-intense vibration of the Fade. For one terrible moment Yvanne thought she’d really gone too far. Anders had never been her match in combat magic before, but he was an abomination now. The dismembered bodies of the patrol Wardens flashed through her mind.

 Then the blue Fadelight winked out. Her heart thumped. Anders said nothing. He kept moving, so she kept following him.

 “It’s not a bloody crime to be happy, you know,” he said eventually.

 “Are  you happy?” she shot back.

 He only shrugged. “We are fulfilling our purpose.”

 They didn’t talk for the rest of the journey.

 “I guess Federico’s cousin won’t mind that I smell like shit?” she said sourly when they emerged again.

 “He’s used to it,” said Anders. “That’s him over there, in the blue coat. Get going, would you? I had to spend a favor on this. Tell the captain that ‘Feathers’ sent you.”

 She spotted the man he was pointing to. His ship was a great deal bigger than the cog that had taken her to Kirkwall.

 She turned to him. “Listen, Anders, I just wanted to say—”

 “You’ve said it all already,” he said.

 She shut her mouth, feeling like she’d already made every wrong choice. “Take care of yourself, Anders.”

 He only nodded tersely. She thought about hugging him, and then thought better of it.

 She had a ship to catch.

 She felt awkward approaching the gangplank. “Um,” she said. “Feathers sent me.”

 The man in the blue coat looked dubiously at her. “You?” he said, and shook his head. “Very well. Get on, you’re late.”

 She stepped aboard, once again feeling useless and small amidst all the shipboard activity.

 Since she had nothing to do, she went to the portside, hoping for a final glimpse of her old friend’s face. But it was too late. Anders had already disappeared in the crowd, and she had already never seen him again.

[your-shield-of-love]

So I've made some comments Kalle says and scenarios she's in, written down. Thought I'd share with you x3 Honestly I could go on about Dragon Age or my OC's all day. I would also like to see any of your OC's etc ^^ <3

~~~

Kalle is smuggled into Skyhold by Hawke, wanting to surprise Leliana. They have a bet going on how long it will take for Leliana and her spies to notice someone new among the Skyhold ranks. Hawke thinks Kalle will be found out in under 24 hours, while Kalle believes Leliana wouldn't reveal she's found her for an entire week.

Kalle decides to act as a new Inquisition scout and so Hawke comes up with a plan. Tell Harding about it.

"Hey there, Scout Harding!" Hawke approaches with their normal swagger and wave, "I wanted to talk."

Harding turns to Hawke, "Uh oh. I'm not in trouble am I?" Her tone half joking.

"Not at all! Not at all... Just need something done, only you can do." Hawke whispers.

"Right. Barracks?" Harding points up the stairs behind her, leading to a currently spot. She also eyed up the unknown scout standing behind Hawke. Hawke smiles thinking, wow she catches on quick.

"So, what's going on, Champion?" Harding asks, fidgeting with her hands.

Hawke squats, part of her armour touching the ground beneath her. "I've got a friend here. Real important to me. She needs protection and somewhere safe to hide. Which is here." Hawke says quickly but quietly, "Also two things. She can't be seen by the Spymaster or the Commander."

Kalle waves, acting the quiet, nervous type. Harding looks her up and down, eyebrow raised.

Hawke stands, their legs getting sore from squatting. "We've got a bet you see. To see how long it'll take for Kalle's identity to be found out."

"Kalle?" Harding blinks a few times, crossing her arms in thought. "Kalle, Kalle, Kal-" She looks up quickly, her mouth opening before she quickly closes it.

"Nice to meet you, Harding." Kalle grins, "I'll be in your care."

Harding blinks before nodding eagerly, "A bet to surprise the Mrs?" She teases, "It won't last long, Leliana catches on pretty quickly."

Kalle blushes and scratches the side of her cheek out of embarrassment, "I've never been under cover around people who could easily recognise me. It'll be fun!" She grins and stands by Harding's side.

"See ya when you're caught." Hawke simply waves, walking off with their hips swinging side to side.

Harding starts walking down the stairs, Kalle following. "I want in on the bet."

"Ohhh," Kalle laughs, "Sure. What will you bet?"

"What have you and the Champion bet?"

Kalle pulls on her hood, "Hawke says I'll be discovered in under 24 hours. I bet Leliana will discover me in under a week."

Harding hums for a moment, thinking on what she should bet. "I'm going to bet that the Commander will catch on. After Haven he is often wandering about, with scouts and officers following."

Kalle pauses, thinking about how hilarious it would be if Cullen discovered her. Though it would be equally awkward, as the two hadn't spoke in person since the blight. "Hmmm do you think I could talk to Cassandra? To her face? Not right now but with a report or something?"

"She'd probably recognise you. She did look for you since Kirkwall fell apart..." Harding stood at her usual spot in front of the Tavern.

Kalle hums in thought, "If I can play my cards right, I might be able to get her to not recognise me, but also get her to smile." Kalle bites her lip in her excitement. She always loved challenging herself.

"You don't seem like the type to enjoy best, but there you have it." Harding smiles, "I'd like to see the result, though it's not too hard to make her smile. The Inquisitor has a good nack for it."

"Blame Hawke," Kalle starightens her uniform out. "They got me into challenges and all sorts when we met."

Harding told Kalle not to go near the Tavern, someone would most likely notice her there and to definitely not approach the stables where Blackwall, their Grey Warden was. Which was odd, Kalle hadn't sensed another Warden nearby but shrugged it off. Every Warden had their own odd symptoms of the blight, maybe his was that no one can sense him.

She mostly patrolled, got to know other recruits or kept watch on anything approaching Skyhold. It was always just people approaching, not enemies or anyone to really worry about. Harding approached her in the evening with a report for Josephine and told her she could try talk to Cassandra now. Harding now had the time to watch whatever conversation was going on. She also told Kalle that Hawke seemed antsy, fidgety even. Harding had spotted Hawke trying to calm their fidgeting, either finding out about Kalle being here and joining the bet or just joining the bet.

Kalle swiftly passed a lot of people, staying out of the way and near the walls. She even passed the Commander, who was to busy making orders and receiving reports to spot just another scout. She had worked alongside a scout named Jim, who was a nice but mischievous guy. He seemed to catch on that Kalle was up to something not menacing. Kalle waved him off saying, 'my friends have got a bet going on, I'm just trying to make it last.'

Entering Josephine's office, Kalle stood by the door. Time for the noob scout act. "Uh, Lady Montilyet?" Kalle put on her nervous voice.

"Yes?" The lady raised her head, "Oh, if you could place your report here on my desk, that would be nice." She looked back down to the letter she was writing. Kalle scurried over, placing the letter gently on her desk, acting as though placing it normally would disturb the woman. She turned to leave when Josephine says, "You are new, correct? Did you have to travel far to get here?"

Kalle turns back to her, a shy smile on her face. Playing the game was hard for Kalle, especially with masks. "Very far, Ma'am. I am.. still adjusting to everything." Josephine stared, Kalle continued with, "I meant as -well as an Elf. I'm not treated like an elf, I'm treated like an equal." Kalle puts on a sad but happy smile, "It makes me happy."

Josephine smiles, waving her quill side to side, "I am glad. It is good to her the Inquisition scouts are well behaved. Now, I must return to my work."

Kalle bows slightly, "Good luck, Ma'am." Before leaving. Kalle decides she thinks Josephine is sweet and has either caught on that she's not who Kalle says she is or genuinely fell for her act. She thinks it's the first one. Leliana always talks about how Jose' plays the game well. "Better wrap things up." She heads down the steps of the main building and towards Cassandra. Harding grins from the Barracks above Cassandra.

Cassandra was focused on the swing of her sword as she hit the dummy, thinking of the vital points to hit someone. In the back of her mind she wondered if she could make time later to read Sword and Shield. A feeling of being watched came over Cassandra an before she could respond to it,

"Hello, Lady Pentaghast?" A scout asked, her blue eyes slightly glowing as it began to grow dark now. She was an elf, their eyes reflective like a cats.

Cassandra lowered her sword, turning to the scout. There was something about this scout.. "Yes? What is it that you want?"

The elf swinging softly, side to side. "I uh- wanted to say hi." They shyly whispered, looking down.

Cassandra stared, "well you have said it. Is that all you wanted? Are you not busy?" She almost hisses in response but can tell the girl is nervous.

She looks back up, surprise in her features, "No! I- I just... I wanted to ask something." A blush rising in her cheeks, Cassandra confused on what was happening.

"Go on, scout." Cassandra stood, putting her sword in its hilt before crossing her arms.

"Is it good?" The elf asked.

Cassandra's eyebrows raise, "Is *what* good?"

"S-sword and shields!" The elf says confidently, quickly covering her face. "My friends all talk about it, and earlier when I was on duty at the barracks, I spotted you reading it... my friends all laugh when I try to ask them about it."

Cassandra drops her arms and marches toward the scout staring her down. Before she can get a word in, the scout replies.

"T-the only reason I'm asking i-is because my friends are all immature about literature *like that* and- and they compare me to daisy from the Champions book and I have no one to talk to about this. I don't know *how* to talk about this." The scout quickly said, panic in their voice and seeming to get teary, making Cassandra's embarrassment go down somewhat. This scout seemed young, if not immature herself asking someone of the Inquisitor's inner circle this. Thinking back on the tales Varric told, this scout did remind her of 'Daisy'.

Cassandra sighs, gripping the scouts shoulders very firmly and staring down at her. She swore she could recognise her. "I... understand. However I must insist that you do not simply... Just don't approach your higher ups like this. If you wish to read those books, then you just to get it. If you don't like it, donate to the library. If you do, keep it." She says coldly, noticing the small sad frown on the scouts face made her continue, "I also know the pain of having friends that will tease you mercilessly about the literature you take in." Cassandra scowls even more so, the opposite effect of what Kalle was looking for. She steps back from Kalle and hopes the young and naive scout learns from this.

The elf smiles softly, "I- ... yes I understand. I am sorry for interrupting your training and am thankful for your advice." She rubs the back of her hood, the helm shuffling slightly.

A silence fell between the two, Cassandra letting the scouts shoulder go, "I know I am of no importance but, having someone that sees me and not some naive, innocent elf that needs protecting is nice. A kick in the ass is good for me once in a while, is all I'm trying to say." She stumbles over her words, Cassandra remembering a time before joining the Seekers where she was also naive and learning boundaries and such.

"Well," Cassandra starts, "I do hope you won't always come to me for a kick in the ass. I hope your scouting will do that for you." Cassandra's scowl lessens. "Though you are free to sit with me to read if you must." Perhaps having someone to talk to about the series could do Cassandra some good too.

The elf grins, her hands not fidgeting anymore. "Me too and I'll do that, obviously if it's a bad time for you, please let me know and I'll leave." She nods eagerly, "I wouldn't want to disturb you!"

Cassandra shakes her head at the elf for mumbling and continuing a conversation unnecessarily. "Well, you have something to do I believe? I must return to-" Before Cassandra can finish her sentence, the elf reached out her hand and shot out ice above Cassandra's head. Cassandra whips towards where the ice headed, the large shards gripping onto the side of the barracks, holding something within. The elf marches past her, a serious look in her eyes and she undoes her ice magic, the object falling into her hand. She stares at whatever landed in her hand and she looks up, Cassanda also looking towards the barracks.

"It's just food." The elf turns to Cassandra, showing her a sweetroll that was now blown apart from the ice. "I'm sorry for overreacting."

Cassandra stared deeply towards the elf, a mage, and said, "You can control your magic without a staff?"

The elf pauses, staring back at her and not looking away. The shy demeanor from earlier gone. "Yes. Though it took me a long time to train that skill, I hope I haven't upset you."

"Not at all. You have nice reflexes." Cassandra inwardly shrugged off the fact that this elf was a mage, Cassandra worked side by side with mages and could now tell when they were aiming their attacks at her. "I never caught your name."

The corner of the scouts mouth rise, a grin slowly growing, "Call me Sabrae. It's my surname, I prefer it from my first." She explains, holding out her hand. Cassandra takes it and does a single firm shake before dropping her hand.

"Well, good talk Scout Sabrae." Cassandra was unsure of what else to say, the elf waved and walked by her once again, before she could leave however, Cassandra had once last thing to say. "Have we met before?"

Scout Sabrae stopped, swirled around and stood straight. "You probably don't recognise me. We've not spoke before, maybe been in the same room once but... I wanted to talk to you about this, because you saved a dear friend of mines life. It's actually why I joined the Inquisition in the first place." She smiled with a sad look in her eyes, "To also help those who need help and to thank you, personally."

Cassandra smiled slightly, "Well you - and your friend - are welcome. Next time when you want to talk to a higher up, start with that *first*."

The scout let out a snake like laugh, "Will do!" She waved and walked past the tavern.

"I can't believe it." Harding said, approaching Kalle. "You made her smile and - what was with that conversation?!"

Kalle smirks, "I'm not the best at approaching scenarios when acting like someone I'm not. But I do so with no script and literally pull it out of my ass. I got her to smile though, my extra challenge is complete."

Harding shook her head, "The sweetroll was Hawke's idea."

"Hey!" Hawke approached with Varric beside them, "It worked didn't it? Helped you both talk longer."

Kalle smirked, feeling her dimples were showing. "True. Hey Varric." The two had met for a small amount of time, and had sent letters to each before.

"Kalle, good to see you. You look good with the uniform on." Varric patted Kalle's arm.

"Good, cause I'll hopefully be staying in it for another few hours." Kalle laughs softly, "I should go. It'll look suspicious if I keep talking to the Inquisitor's companions." She quickly turns to leave when Hawke pulls on her arm.

Hawke stared with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "Varric wants in on the bet." Hawke pretends to be messing with Kalle's uniform, "He bets the Seeker will catch on after Leliana, then Jose' but before Curly."

Kalle laughs softly, "An odd bet but fuck it, sure. I thought you'd bet on the Iron Bull or his chargers finding out, though they are in the Tavern a whole lot."

She was on a night shift, marching the Barracks on lookout duty. The whole of Skyhold was on edge since Haven was destroyed only four days ago. Kalle breathed in the cold, night air. If she didn't naturally feel warm all the time, she wouldn't be so relaxed. She looked up at the stars and remembered when she was in the circle growing up, always surrounded by Templars and only seeing the night sky from within the tower. Sure they could walk the grounds outside with permission but that happened less after Anders had escaped.

"... Where is that- Ah, scout!" Cullens voice called out, Kalle inwardly panicked, her body growing tense. How was she going to handle this?! He approached quickly, when she realised how to play this. She sniffs, and rubs her eyes.

"Y-yes, Commander?" She was always good at voice interpretations and decided to pull an accent based on the Free Marches.

He didn't say anything but still approached, stopping an arms length from her. "Is something the matter?" He asked, a slight worry in his voice but still distant sounding.

"I-I apologise.. It... A friend of mine, died at Haven ser. I was just.. lost in their memory, I suppose." She stared deeply into the night sky, avoiding looking at him. "Commander, I can still listen but you do not wish to see a crying, glowing elven eyes. It is an odd thing to see." She inwardly kicked herself for using such a horrible lie but it was the only convincing one she could think of.

Cullen paused, Kalle felt the panic within her rise. "I understand... Take your time. I simply wanted the report of the new recruits we received today."

"Ah," Kalle smirks, not as stiff since she knew he wouldn't be able to see her face. "I believe Scout Jim has it. He's the scoutiest of us all. Apart from Harding, obviously."

"Thank you," he said, his voice gentle. Kalle remembered that voice, he often spoke it to those at the circle that showed him kindness, apart from her. He was all stutter then. Kalle noted that was a funny comment, but luckily didn't laugh or scoff out loud. "What's your name, Scout?"

Kalle's real surname is Surana, or used to be. It was the Surname her Mum had, but her Mum had died when she was a toddler, so sadly she never met her but she did meet with her Birth Dad after the blight was defeated. She had brought Valor, her dog, Leliana and Alistair then. She still writes letters to her Dad, and although they aren't too close. She stills thinks of him as family. She shook her head for getting lost in thought, she let out a small 'brrr' noise. "Sorry, sir. The names Sabrae."

"Well, Scout Sabrae. You can switch with a peer if you feel the need to. Keep up the hard work." He left, Kalle watching him leave, smiles. "Working hard as ever, I see." She smirks, he turns around, she turns away quickly. *Please don't have seen my face. Please!* She peeked her eyes our from the corner of her hood, he had continued walking. "Thank fuck."

By the end of her shift, she had began feeling tired and was thankful she'd have a cot to sleep in. Hopefully she could finally have some decent sleep, which would be difficult since her and every other Warden was hearing the Calling. She looked around the room, all the cots with other female scouts either getting to sleep or waking up. An inner panic set in her, realising it was like she was back in the circle. She stood at the foot if her bed, leaning against the bed post, with her eyes tightly closed.

The door burst open, every scout jumping, waking up, some mumbling in their sleep or grabbing their weapon before putting them back down. "I'm looking for Scout Sabrae?" Harding called out, Kalle's panic was ending, still had a bit to go. She meekly raised her arms, hearing the dwarf approaching.

"Come with me, scout." Harding gently said, holding the small of Kalle's back and softly pushing her along. Harding took her to Hawke's room, "Hawke informed me that you have *trouble* sleeping at night. They offered to let you stay with them, Varric also offered."

"Thanks," Kalle said tiredly, "You snapped me out of my Panic attack."

Harding patted her back softly, "Those are the worst. A lot of circle mages are the same, you know. Though I'm sure it's different for you..." Harding rubbed her back gently.

"Thanks. Good to hear. Which bedrooms nearest?" Kalle said quickly, just wanting to sleep.

"Varric's, though it's near the Inquisitor's inner circles quarters." Harding explained.

"I don't care. Just...I need rest." Kalle mumbled, taking a breath and stretching. "I'm ready to go." She said after realising Harding had waited. She led Kalle to Varric's quarters, where Hawke was, sitting on Varric's bed, rubbing their hair furiously. Upon seeing Kalle enter the room, stood up, marched over and practically threw Kalle into the small cot.

Kalle would've said something but already felt herself falling into the softness of the blankets.

"Oi, Kalle. Kalle!" She was shook awake. Rolling to her other side and seeing Varric staring down at her, she raised her eyebrow saying 'what?'. "You were speaking Darkspawn." Kalle sighed, "It wasn't Cor-"

"No, it wasn't. Sorry, Varric." She sat up, realising she slept in her uniform. Minus the helmet. "Hope I didn't disturb your writing."

Varric rubbed his head before sitting at his desk. "A little, but I needed a break anyway." By the look of the sun, it was lunchtime and Kalle's stomach started grumbling for food. Varric chucked her some sweetrolls, Kalle grinned before eating them all.

Kalle stands, stretching her whole body and rubbing her eyes. She puts her helm on. "Made my entrance to Skyhold more entertaining. Or serious and brooding, people love the sad, brooding Warden."

Varric scribbled something saying, "Already have our broody Warden. A mischievous, nosy but soft hearted Warden? Even better."

Kalle smiles softly, "Thanks, Varric." She gives him a hug, "I need to eat, so I'm off to the tavern. It'll prove a nice challenge of not being noticed."

Just before she leaves, Varric says, "Alright, Cuddles." Kalle smiles, she really likes her nickname.

She had managed to head into the tavern and decided to sit on the third floor, after getting her food of course. She sat at the banister, looking down the tavern and swinging her legs back and forth, over the edge of the gap.

"Watching, wanting. To be a piece but not the picture. Reaching to connect, letting go, getting pulled to the picture. Songs are enough."

Kalle whips to her left, a man with a big hat, kicking his legs with her. She blinks, pausing for a moment. "You're good at reading." She grins, passing him some food.

He looked back, holding the food gently. "Knowing words. A breathe of fresh air. I-" he pauses, "I like my hat too."

Kalle smiles, "Your Cole, right?"

The man turns staring, "You know and remember?"

"Do you remember Wynne and Shale?"

"Yes." Cole replies.

"Well, since I read about you, I have forgotten you now and then. But it's the same for everyone I've met. I have to forgot some at times to remember others. It helps." Kalle looks down. "Leliana wrote about you sometimes. I want to help you help everyone else. That would help me."

Cole says, "A shout, 'not true!' Reaching for air while falling through waves. A break of air is needed but breathing burns if I don't swim."

Kalle swallows and sighs softly, "Guess I can't hide my feelings from you, or myself. I hope I didn't lose the bet." She turns to Cole, "Can you help me? I'm... a lot of things. Could use a friend." She spoke honestly to him.

"A friend. Someone to relax around. Just a book with no title. You're not just a book! Words that hum and fly, love that comforts even within the dark. Family that passes by blood." Cole compliments, passing back the food.

Kalle eats it, not sure how to respond. "Thank you, Cole." She bumps her head against his shoulder. He leans on her head.

"Thank you, Kalle." With Cole's words she welled up. This guy, she had heard of since the blight ended. She forgot him many times, never meeting him would do that but remembered him when she remembered what she wanted to do in life. "Remembering helps." Cole mumbled, seeming to think on the inner voice from Kalle.

Since she spoke with Cole, he followed her around, sometimes from afar, sometimes right beside her. Kalle smiled to herself, finding it cute, like her Valor followed her around. He was busy protecting her home but oh she missed him. "I like Valor. He's a good one." Cole says, making Kalle giggle.

"He's the goodest, cutest Mabari ever." Kalle smiles to herself, walking along the barracks, Cole following after her. He sometimes spoke others feelings and thoughts out loud, Kalle told him he can help them and she can wait. But he didn't leave her side.

It was obvious Hawke had lost the bet now, it had been 24 hours and Kalle giggled as she saw them furiously beating up a dummy. Cassandra fighting the one farthest from Hawke. "Hah, finally." Kalle breathes, "Hawke never knows when to let out steam." She told Cole, though he probably already knew.

Before Cole could say anything, Kalle spotted Cullen approaching from his office, he seemed to looking for someone. Kalle stared outward from Skyhold admiring the snowy mountains and just as Cullen walked by her,

"Words sting. Friends broken, circle broken, trapping circle, the rain reminds it was real." Cullen let's out a shaken breath, "Here to help but their kind burned, broke others. Used his weakness, used her to break him. It didn't, a tear instead. A feeding tear." Cullen whipped around to Cole, sorrow and anger on his features. "You didn't break her. She didn't tear. She holds the tears, keeps them close. Never forgets. Can't forget her home, her family, her people. Carries them along with every other person that she reached and those she didn't. Swims with tears, they can drown her but remembers to breath air."

Kalle before realising it, had began crying and had whimpered out loud. She would pretend to not hear Cole, but he was helping. Both her and Cullen. Kalle had been leaning on the stone of Skyhold to balance. She pushed against them, turning to Cole and gripped his hand. 'To help someone you can't always speak their feelings, instead of saying his feelings, why don't you try talking with him?'

"Scout, why are you with.." Cullen breathed, "Don't read into me. And out loud..." He turned, probably needing to think.

Cole looks back to Kalle, she hadn't turned her face towards Cullen so he hadn't seen her. Cole let her hand go and followed after the Commander, Kalle sighs loudly against Skyhold. "Shit, that was close." She said out loud once Cole entered Cullen's office. She decided she needed a much needed break, headed to the library where she found a volume of Sword and Shield and decided she would sit near Hawke, who was near Cassandra.

Hawke sat at the foot of the dummy, taking a break and chatting to Cassandra. Noticing Kalle approaching, they rummage into their pouch and brought out a smaller pouch, throwing it towards Kalle, who quickly caught it. "Ah, Scout Sabrae." Cassandra greeted her, spotting the book in her hand and eyeing Hawke, then Kalle and Hawke again.

"Don't worry," Kalle mumbled, tiredly, sitting at the bench nearby. "Hawke has met me before." She opens the book and begins reading.

"Why am I not surprised? Practically everyone has met Hawke." Cassandra grumbles.

Hawke speaks up, "You're starting at volume 2? That ones the dullest one out of the series."

"Not true!" Cassandra gasps, not meaning to respond so quickly. "Wait, starting? ... You haven't read the first?" She pauses, thinking before saying, "How close are you that Hawke knows what books you haven't read??"

Kalle scratches her nose, "We've uh... known eachother since Kirkwall."

Hawke laughs, "*She's* the reason, you couldn't find me and the others!"

Kalle whips around facing Hawke and looking at her with an angry frown, her eye glaring before hesitantly looking to Cassandra, "Just who *are* you?!" She quickly marches to her, making Kalle jump up and sprint. She can hear Hawke laughing and following along, Cassandra chasing. Kalle in a panic, sprints into the Tavern, having everyone look at her. She sprints past The Iron Bull, who eye her up as she runs up the stairs. "Catch that scout!!!" Cassandra roars.

Hawke crackles hysterically, "No, no, don't stop this!!"

Kalle spots a blonde with her fringe cut oddly poke her head out from the corner and decides to sprint into her room. Kalle slams the door behind her, having pushed the blonde into the room. The woman quickly jumps up about to stab her with a dagger, Kalle quickly uses her helmet to hit it out her hand, "I'm the hero of Fereldan and I'm on the run!" She whispers at the woman, before leaping out and onto the roof. The woman pauses, then snorts in laughter, joining her on the roof and grabbing Kalle's wrist before leaping off the roof. Just as the door had burst open, Cassandra screaming from the room, "Sera!!" She clambers onto the roof while Sera drags Kalle towards the opposite side of Skyhold.

"Friggin can't believe, the mighty blue Griffin!" She giggles hysterically, running past the newly set up merchants, up the stairs and through doors that lead to the kitchens. She steals an apple and takes a bite out of it, Kalle also doing so and kinda enjoying the lighthearted chaos.

"Name's Kalle!" She says quickly, as the elf woman let's her hand go and into a basement area of skyhold. "You must be Sera!"

Sera giggles in response as she leads Kalle across the room and runs up more stairs. "You're a runner, love it! People'll be happy to see a big uppity run. Good for Cassandra too!"

Kalle wasn't sure if Cassandra was still following, deciding to remove her helmet, it clanging down the steps and says, "A bird crumb! I hope she's still chasing, I needed this." Sera laughs hysterically, Kalle laughing with her. What a great way to meet someone.

Upon entering a small room between two doors, Sera bursts open the one on the right, running through with Kalle following. They run through the open area, a few people in the room and Varric spots them. "Not sure how much longer you'll be able to run, everyone's on alert now!" Varric tells them, waving off some people about to chase after. Sera bursts into an open room, where a bald elf stands at his desk, quickly eyeing Sera as she sprints past. He looks to the elf chasing after her, recognising her. "What in the name of-"

"Sorry to disturb! I'll apologise properly later!!" They run up the stairs on the left, to the library, Kalle quickly stuffing her book into one of the shelves and pulls up her loose hood. A snazzy man looks up from his book and stares, before Kalle can say anything however Sera screams,

"I'm running with the Hero of Fereldan!!! Hahahahah!"

Kalle shakes her head in laughter as she catches up, following Sera back outside and towards Cullen's office. Hearing a few, 'there they are! Get em!' Kalle also notices Iron Bull and his group watching, also spotting Hawke pointing and laughing. They burst into Cullen's office, Cole sitting on the floor beside his desk and Cullen looks up from the reports. "Sera? What-" He stops as he recognises Kalle's face and he drops his papers.

"Sera, keep running!" Kalle pats her shoulder, "Can I hide under your desk?" She turns to Cullen, probably a cruel way to meet him again but she was on an adrenaline high that was quickly coming down. "Please?" He steps back with a confused nod, his mouth agape. She shuffles under his desk, holding her knees to her chest, Cole squeezing in beside her. She also reaches out for papers near her, as Cullen grabs the ones closer to him. His feet are shuffling and she pokes the papers into his knees. He quickly takes them with a small 'Thank you'.

Hearing Sera running through the door on the right, probably towards the inn and then the front door opens. Cullen stepping closer to the desk and Kalle leaning into Cole, trying to stop her laughter. Cole grows tense, remembering a similar feeling from long ago but hears the racing of Kalle's heart and how happy she is. He smiles to her, she smiles back, letting out a quiet breath.

"Commander." Cassandra's voice speaks frustrated sounding, "The hero of Fereldan ran in here. Which way did she go?"

"Eh, I-" Kalle notices him point to the door Sera ran through.

Hearing Cassandra step closer, Kalle held her laughter even more, Cole trying not to hit the hard part of his hat on the top of the desk. "Cullen. I saw Sera run, where did she go?"

He leans more on his right leg and says, "S-she hid up there." He nods to the space he had been sleeping in, which he'll probably keep as his sleeping quarters.

Cassandra quickly climbs the ladder, Kalle thought maybe she could run a bit longer but decided against it. "She is *not* here, commander!"

As she says that the doors open again, "Well, where is she?" Leliana's voice speaks.

"Check the desk." Cassandra grumbles, climbing down the ladder, Cullen taking steps back towards his window and the glove of Leliana holds onto the edge of the space Kalle hid in. Once Leliana's face came into view, her ginger hair high-lighting her dark purple coloured outfit, Kalle felt like she light up. They stared at eachother, a smile on their face as Leliana held out her other hand. Kalle gripped it, Leliana standing and Kalle pushing herself up while using Leliana for support.

"What were you doing?" Leliana shook her head, a small but warm smile on her face. Leliana's hand still holding Kalle's, it been almost an entire year since she seen Leliana, Kalle gripped her hand tighter.

"Coming to surprise you." Kalle shrugs, a smirk growing.

Leliana quickly but softly cups her check, her thumb rubbing at the smile dimples, "Colour me surprised."

Kalle laughs softly, the two hugging tightly, Kalle's head tucked into Leliana. She felt like she was going to cry.

Realising she forgot where she was and who was in the room with her, let go and tilted her up to Leliana, who was a slightly taller than her. She felt the gaze of Cassandra, Cole and Cullen on them. "I missed you." Kalle blurted out, covering her mouth and feeling a blush growing on her face. Leliana playfully pinches her cheek,

"Me too, love." She nuzzles her head against Kalle, rubbing at the end of Kalle's left ear, making her almost purr.

Cassandra coughs to break the reunion, the couple looking to her. Cassandra doesn't speak for a moment but smiles slightly. "I am happy for you for Leliana, but we must all speak. In the war room." She turns to leave, Leliana about to lead Kalle out when Kalle turns back.

"Cole? I didn't forget you. Come with me." Kalle requested, noticing his silence. He appeared in front of her and nodded. She smiles and looks back to Cullen, "If you're joining us, wanna walk together?"

"Oh uh, y-yes!" He grabs the reports and follows the couple, still holding hands. As they walk out of the office, Hawke spots them and waves in excitement. Varric by their side, the Iron Bull, Sera and chargers cheering for the Hero of Fereldan. Kalle waves softly, the murmuring growing louder as the small group are crossing the bridge.

"You could take your hood down." Leliana smirks at her lover, "Let them see you."

Kalle shyly smiles, always forgetting how smitten Leliana made her. "C-can you do it with me?" Leliana nods, hiding a small scoff, wondering if Kalle knew how that sounded but nodded, and the two let their hoods down. The couple seeming to relax and take a breath at the same time.

Entering the warroom, followed by Cole, Hawke, Varric and Cullen, Kalle looked to Josephine. "You- *you* are the H-hero of Fereldan?! I apologise for not realising sooner!" She walked across the room to Kalle, reaching her hand out and spotting Leliana and her holding hands. "Awwww." She almost swooned, "How sweet, I am *so* incredibly happy you two can be with eachother again!" Jose' was quickly becoming one of the sweetest people she had ever met.

"Thanks." Kalle smiles, a small blush on her cheeks, the others stood at the points around the table, Hawke standing by the window while Cole looked at the map. She missed being beside Leliana and just wanted to constantly tell her how she had missed her. She realised the calling had grown quiet since she heard Leliana speak.

Jose' tapped at her clipboard, "An odd and entertaining reveal, to be sure. I'm happy only a few nobles witnessed it, they can be reasoned with to not say what transpired." Kalle felt like she could listen to her talk all day. Josephine's and Leliana's kids would sound beautiful. Josephine blinked at Kalle, who looked at Leliana with a confused expression.

"You spoke out loud." She smiles and just nuzzles into Kalle's hair.

"Hehehe, sorry." Kalle blushes, "Your voices just sound so nice."

Jose smiles, "Well thank you. Your voice is nice too." She nods, looking at her clipboard.

Cole pulls on Kalle's sleeve, "Someone needs my help, I'll be back soon." And he leaves.

She turns to Leliana, "Can I adopt him?" Kalle says with a serious tone and a happy smile on her face, "He's so sweet."

"I don't even know if that's possible, we- we don't know what he is yet." Leliana explains, "Not really.

Kalle hums in thought until Josephine taps her quill onto her board, "We shall hold a ceremony, one for those we lost at Haven... and then after that, my lady, we can hold a celebration for you coming to help the inquisition. Someone *could* make a speech mentioning how you want your announcement and celebration on hold."

"If it's alright, I'd rather not have a celebration. Parties with strangers or people who wanna talk with me endlessly tire me out.." Kalle rubs her arm, "If that's okay."

"Of course, we will not do anything you are not comfortable with. Though we will still need to announce it." Jose reassures.

"After the announcement, I wish Kalle will have a room too stay in to sleep and I believe a feast for the tavern would lift everyones moods." Leliana smiled, knowing Kalle's ability to eat was endless.

"The Inquisitor ... is out on a mission, when they return we should hold another meeting and discuss why you're here." Cullen spoke up, not adjusting to *her* being in the room.

~~~☆

Okay this is fun but I need to sleep hahaha.

Let me know what you think x I meant to say I was expecting to write just a light hearted short hahaha.

[gaysparkler]

Of Darkness and Light Within: Chapter 4

Rating: T

Summary: “If you’re looking to start a life, you could stay. I can help you.” Life had not been easy for Frederic Hawke since his family’s hasty departure from Lothering. Losing his town, his younger sister, everything he had ever known. With the help of newfound friends, including a mysterious white-haired elf, he keeps his enemies and his own darkness at bay. A retelling of canon events.

Pairing: Male Hawke x Fenris

AO3 Link: Here

Hawke met Varric in the Lowtown market by morning. With the extra money, he thought he would try to update his and Carver’s gear for the expedition. Maybe better armour, or new boots. After getting caught in that bear trap, Hawke really needed new boots. Hawke had not specifically asked Varric to come with him, it was rather a joyful coincidence that they both occurred to be in the market. Hawke used this to his advantage, as Varric was a much more skilled negotiator than he.

“Should you be spending that coin?” Varric asked as Hawke gave Gamlen’s house address for the plate armour to be delivered. “You have an expedition to finance.”

“Don’t worry, I set some aside. Besides, I’ve got more than I need,” Hawke replied. Varric stared at him.

“You got the fifty sovereigns.” It was more a statement than a question.

“I do,” Hawke laughed.

“How?” Varric was clearly in shock. “I mean, I know you’ve been working your ass off these past days, but fifty sovereigns? In that amount of time? You’re not human. Or you can make gold appear from nothing. That must be it.”

“Aren’t you a storyteller? I’m sure you’ll find the tale of how ‘Hawke got rich overnight’.”

Varric stepped on his toes for that one. Hawke only laughed more. “Since you’ve got some more coin you can use, maybe we should organize something, with all the others!”

“So, you tell me not to spend my money and now you’re encouraging that I risk losing it all in Wicked Grace? I’m not sure I follow, Varric.”

“Aw come on, you’re not that bad…” Varric pleaded.

“Did you forget that time you only left me a glove and I had to walk all the way back to Gamlen’s house completely naked?”

“I had to terrorize you at least once, I won’t let that happen again. You can trust me!”

“Fenris is awfully good at cards, maybe he’ll win my money,” Hawke argued.

“Bah, you’ll just have to make him sweet eyes and he’ll give it back.”

Hawke playfully pushed Varric aside and they walked to the Hanged Man together, the dwarf’s laughter echoing in the streets. In the tavern, Varric quickly wrote letters to inform the others of tonight’s plan: a great night partying before their departure in the Deep Roads. Hawke thought little that it would maybe be the last time he would see them all. Many who ventured the Deep Roads did not get out alive. He stayed with Varric until night came and their friends joined them. Isabela was already at the tavern, so she only walked to their table. Merrill was second to arrive, followed by Anders, Aveline and finally Fenris. Varric pushed Hawke so he could greet him. Hawke barely had enough time to calm his heartbeat and let his face cool.

“Hey Fenris,” Hawke said, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m happy to see you here.”

“I wasn’t sure about it, but seeing you’re leaving soon, I thought it would be nice to spend time with you—and the others,” Fenris replied. They both stood a bit too far from each other, not knowing what to do.

“Well,” Hawke coughed, “we have a table already, come on!”

When they sat, Varric was in a tale about how Hawke hoarded gold in his uncle’s house and slept on it like a dragon. Hawke listened, waiting until Varric finished. His story had attracted a few listeners around the table who were eager to meet the fabled man, but Varric chased them away when he was done. He winked at Hawke, who rolled his eyes and took the cards that were handed to him. He looked at Fenris just in time to see him chuckle at Varric’s nonsensical tale. Hawke glanced at his cards and sighed; it was not looking good for him.

~~~

“Come on, Hawke, Varric keeps telling us stories, but what about you? There must be something you can share,” Isabela suggested.

“Something that wasn’t exaggerated by Varric, too,” Anders insisted.

Hawke set his mug of ale down. He looked at Aveline, hoping to be able to avoid it, but she was no help. The grin on his face was definitely not a friendly, sympathetic one. Sighing, he kept his cards close to him and tried to quickly find an amusing tale they had not heard yet. Something Varric would not know.

“How about,” he started, “that time Carver broke my nose when we had just arrived in Lothering?” The cheers around him were a good indicator that the memory he had chosen would be appreciated. He continued, his brother was not there to stop him from sharing this embarrassing story. “Carver, Bethany and I were always outside, climbing trees, lifting rocks to find worms and salamanders. I was just fifteen, the twins around eight. We were out on the field while our parents were clearing the rocks and roots to see if we could grow crops. Since I was the oldest, I was always the one lifting rubble and the twins would look under.”

“That’s nice, Hawke,” Merrill said.

“I think it’s just being an older sibling,” Anders pointed out.

“Well Bartrand never did that for me,” Varric argued.

“I don’t think Bartrand is a shining example of an older brother, Varric,” Hawke said.

“Go back to the story!” Isabela shouted.

“Fine,” Hawke sighed. “While I was putting a rock back down, Carver and Bethany had run off further out in the field. After I was done, I walked over to them, but I probably didn’t make enough noise for them to notice me. Carver was trying to lift up a rock on his own, but it took him a lot of effort. I was right behind him when he managed. He got it out of the soil and he flung in it the air, hitting me square in the face.” His audience cringed. Hawke swore he heard Isabela whisper a discreet ‘nice’. “My nose cracked, I obviously screamed, Bethany started crying since I was covered in blood, and Carver was just frozen in place. I think he knew he would be in trouble. When the pain faded, I told him not to worry about it. We got back home, he got grounded, but Mother was not pleased with me, either. Anyway, Father set my nose so it would heal right.”

“He didn’t do a great job…” Anders teased.

“Excuse you! My nose is perfect the way it is,” Hawke laughed. He looked to the side and found Fenris staring at his nose, no doubt trying to find where it broke. He hid his blush in his cards. The game resumed.

~~~

Isabela ended up passed out underneath the table while Aveline stood upon it and sang traditional Ferelden songs. Most patrons of the Hanged Man were too drunk to scowl at her, rather listening, cheering and offering to get her more drinks. Varric had been forbidden to keep playing after they all noticed that he was cheating. Hawke did lose all the coin he put aside for the game to Fenris, as he had predicted. Fenris had the suit of Songs, four cards of the same set, when the Angel of Death was dealt in. Hawke, with his three Angels, thought he would do fine, but Fenris’ bluff was his downfall. Before too much attention was on him because of Aveline, Hawke walked out of the tavern, followed by Fenris. Varric caught them, exchanging a glare with Hawke and winking at him. Hawke quickly looked away.

Outside, the air cooled his warm skin. The Hanged Man was crowded, and it eventually became too much for Hawke—the people, the noise, the smells, everything. He noticed that Fenris was equally relieved to be away from that space. They stood closer this time, just at arm’s length. Fenris’ hair looked so soft, almost glowing in the moonlight. Hawke cleared his throat.

“I, uh, I hope you had fun!”

“Your friends are…interesting, to say the least,” Fenris replied. Hawke smiled at him. “I should probably give you your coin back, now that we are alone. I should not take your money, especially when you’re heading in the Deep Roads soon.”

“No, please, keep it. I let Varric bring me into this because I had money to spare. You don’t.”

“Then let me come along.”

“I was lucky I could even bring Carver and Anders with me… I’m sorry Fenris,” Hawke said. He avoided Fenris’ eyes.

“You’re bringing the abomination with you?” Fenris sounded almost angry. Outraged, probably.

“He used to be a Grey Warden, he can sense the darkspawn, he can help if something goes wrong,” Hawke argued. “I would bring you instead of Carver, but he’s so excited about this, I don’t think he’d forgive me if I left him in Kirkwall.”

Fenris stepped closer to Hawke. “Then just—” Fenris started. “Be careful.” He offered Hawke his hand. Hawke took it and shook it. He held it longer than he should have. He gave Fenris a nod, knowing better than to make a joke, then left the side alley they were in and quickly returned home.

“Glad to see you fully clothed this time,” Carver loudly said as Hawke walked in.

“Isn’t it late for you to still be awake, Carver? We leave to the Deep Roads tomorrow,” Hawke teased back.

[varricmancer]

Lost And Found | 2

Pairing: Varric Tethras x OC

Word Count: 3,924

Summary: Instead of the nothingness she had craved, Crystal woke up in the world of Thedas. What had once been merely a story that she loved now seemed very real and she was right in the heart of it all. She soon finds a reason to live again and a love in the arms of someone as quietly broken as her.

Notes: Hey, look! It’s an update! Finding the time to write with an infant around is extremely difficult, but I didn’t want to abandon this story. I have so much of it thought up already in my head and it’s great, it’s just hard getting around to writing it all down lol. Most of my free time these days is spending trying to sneak in naps and showers when my baby is asleep. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this and please let me know how you think it’s going. 

Crystal had been completely lost in her work when a sudden cheer made her jump a little, spilling a bit of green sap across her hand. She was able to save most of the vial, thankfully, corking it and setting it aside before opening her door and peering out.

In the middle of the village was a small crowd of people cheering around a rather disgusting pile of dead rams. She did a quick count; ten, just like in the game. If the village did a good job smoking and curing some of the meat, they’d be able to have plenty to go around for a couple weeks at least. Coupled with the knowledge that The Herald would be clearing the area of danger soon, Crystal was able to take a deep breath, content now that she knew the village would be safe soon. The feeling of constant hunger was something she was never going to forget, and she really hoped to never feel it again.

She stepped outside, quietly shutting her door behind her and strolled towards the back of the crowd. She just wanted to get a peek of everyone before the judgemental stares and demands for her to prove she’s not a demon started.

The Herald turned out to be a human male, and he looked like the default version, meaning this was most likely Maxwell Trevelyan. She spots the dual daggers on his back and grins. He’s a human rogue Inquisitor, probably her most used playthrough. He was smiling gracefully as various people loudly proclaimed their thanks, but she could see the tension in his body, like he was holding himself back from making a run for it.

Cassandra was beautiful. The game certainly did not do her justice in the least. Her face was much more delicate and regal in real life; not even her scars distracted from it. Giles was chatting her up, and Crystal knew he could be a little longwinded at times. Cassandra’s lack of patience with him showed. She could practically see the Disgusted Noise subtitle above her head.

Solas was magnificent in his own way, of course. She hadn’t been sure how she’d feel about meeting him - knowing what she did about him - but there was no overwhelming urge to run for the hills. He was taller and more broad than any of the other Elven people she’d met here, but it was hidden well under the humble clothing he wore. She imagined she only noticed his difference from the others because she knew to look for it. She just hoped she could get him to fix her up before she freaked him out by accidentally letting him know that she was aware of his incredibly stupid plan.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t see through the crowd enough to catch sight of Varric, and no one seemed to be able to hear her whispered excuse me over the excited chatter. She sighed to herself, resigned that she’d have to wait until the crowd calmed down before she’d be able to beg for Solas to heal her. If she knew Giles or Mother Giselle, they’d probably bring the group to her soon enough, for different reasons of course. She snuck one last glance through the crowd and braced to leave when she felt someone stand next to her. 

“It’s always us short ones that get stuck in the back, huh?” 

Crystal bit back her excited grin as recognized the owner of that raspy voice, trying to appear calm and not totally embarrass herself by fangirling. She turned and was surprised to note that she and Varric were nearly eye to eye. He was just a touch shorter than her five feet. However, his dwarven bulk made him seem massive next to her. Just one of his biceps was probably half of her body weight. The only things that saved her from looking like a complete stick next to him were her generous top and bottom. 

She was also surprised how much more handsome he was in real life than in the game. There were slight grey streaks in his dark blonde hair and deep laugh lines around his eyes, showing his age, but he carried it well. His grin was warm, and even if his eyes were obviously cataloging everything about her and trying to figure her out, he gave off a kind air. She smiled shyly back, a blush growing on her cheeks as he continued to study her. She inhaled sharply as she recognized the interest in his eyes and felt an answering flutter in her chest, surprising herself.  

In all of her imaginings over the past few weeks about who she’d feel butterflies around when she met them, never had Varric even occurred to her. Sure, he was one of her favorite characters, but she’d figured she’d take one look at Cullen or Hawke and swoon. Instead, here she was blushing over freaking Varric Tethras, a smooth-talking and romantically unavailable rogue. 

In other words, just her type. You’d think now that she was living a whole new life in a whole new world she’d stop making life so hard for herself. At least this time she had the advantage of knowing he’d break her heart before she answered that spark of interest with one of her own. 

“Varric, there you are. They’ve invited us to eat with them before we leave. Come help me drink that bottle we found earlier...or stay and talk to the pretty little lady. Hello there. I’m Maxwell.” 

The Herald himself was standing in front of Crystal, her blush deepening as his eyes flittered back and forth between her and Varric. He looked her over curiously. 

“I must say, you are the most petite dwarf I’ve ever seen. Are you perhaps Elven blooded?” 

She snorted and grinned. “I’m not a dwarf. Just a very tiny human, I’m afraid,” she answered softly, smiled widening as Maxwell’s cheeks soon sported a blush of his own as he sputtered an apology. 

“Believe it or not, he does this often,” Varric chuckled. 

“It’s true, sadly,” Maxwell sighed wearily. “The first time I met a female Qunari was a disaster. I was just trying to be a gracious host and I asked her if she had her own attendants for her milking or if she needed us to assign some to her.” 

Crystal’s eyebrows rose in shock, a hand trying to contain her laughter. “You didn’t!” 

“I did. My Uncle always told me that the Qunari were related to druffalo, and since I’d never met any I didn’t know he was just being a racist ass. I was only saved from having to fight her because of our ambassador’s skill with words and the fancy new axe I got her.” 

She giggled and waved away any concern. “I promise I don’t require duels or weapons. It’s not the first time my height has been commented on.” 

“You’re the very soul of graciousness, Mistress...I didn’t catch your name.” Maxwell declared with an elaborate bow.

“Crystal,” she answered warily, knowing what was coming. 

“OH! You’re the girl they told us about! You were in the fade like me!” 

“So they tell me.” 

“You don’t remember either?” 

She shrugs, “Not really. I was...in a lake when I was surrounded by a green glow and it pulled me down. The next thing I recall was waking up and being told my arm broke falling out of a rift.” 

“You didn’t get a mark like mine?” 

“No, I’m afraid not.” 

Crystal chewed her lip thoughtfully before squaring her shoulders and blurting out, “I do have...knowledge, however. Um, like bits of insight into future events.” 

“Like a seer?” 

“Not quite. I can’t read minds or tell you what you’ll be doing thirty years from now, but I have some knowledge of past events and some coming events that will impact the inquisition.” 

“That’s incredible. You learned it in the fade?” 

“Uh...I suppose that’s possible. Look, I wasn’t sure that I was going to tell you about it at first, because this whole thing is terrifying. I know if I go with you and help with my knowledge, I’ll be right in the thick of everything, but I know I’ll be safer with you than out here in the wilderness on my own. If you can take me with you to Haven and promise protection then I’ll use what I know to help you succeed.” 

Maxwell nods and rubs his chin in thought, studying her.

“Not to be rude, but how do I know you have any of this foresight and are not simply trying to infiltrate the inquisition?” 

“It’s okay, I wouldn’t believe me either. Do you have a map of the area and maybe something to write with?” 

Maxwell nods and pulls out a weathered map on what she can only assume is some sort of animal skin. She wrinkles her nose and accepts it and the black chunk he hands her that she guesses she’s supposed to write with. She wasn’t very knowledgable about such things, but as long as it worked who cared. 

She lays the map out on a nearby stump, mumbling to herself as she tries to remember all the major points in the area. Unfortunately, there was quite a lot because The Hinterlands was huge, and she was sure there were at least a couple of things she forgot. She handed Maxwell the map with a sheepish grin and a shrug of her shoulders. 

“Alright. I’ve marked all the big events in the Hinterlands for now. First is the easy stuff. When you get to the horsemaster, you’ll learn that wolves have been attacking villagers. I’ve marked the spot on the map where there is a demon controlling them. Take out the demon and the wolves will go back to normal. Avoid the rift to the right of the river. The demons are too high level for you to deal with and they stay in that little corner anyway. You can get back to them later. Also, someone will ask you to find their missing druffalo. Up to you if you want to do that, but it is a good way to get on the people’s good side.” She shrugged but was pleased by the Herald’s expression. They may not believe her, but at least he was listening intently. 

“I’ve also marked the locations of the templar and mage encampments. Taking those out will stop the fighting so the people here will be safer. You’ll come across lots of mini quests along the way, and I’ve marked those as well. It’s up to you how much you want to accomplish now, although I suggest just dealing with the horses and encampments for now. You can always come back.” 

“That’s quite a lot of information, but nothing that someone with good intel and knowledge of the area couldn’t come up with,” Varric says with a tilt to his head, studying her curiously. 

“True. At the very least, I’m hoping this shows that I can be of some use. This alone probably just saved you weeks of drudging around. There’s nothing huge that I need to forewarn you of at the moment.” 

Maxwell frowns. “Why can’t you just write down what you know? We’d pay you for your services and you’d be free to stay here where it seems you have a home?” 

“Several reasons. One, this isn’t my home. Giles has been kind, but I am alone in the middle of the wilderness of a land that I don’t really know, sleeping in a house that is only available because the entire family died. I’d feel safer surrounded by people that my knowledge makes me familiar with. Two, I don’t really think just telling you everything right off would help. I...okay, so when you go into battle you fight as hard as you can because you want to win and protect your companions, correct?” 

Maxwell nodded, eyes trained on her as she explained. 

“Right. Well, would you fight as hard if you knew the outcome beforehand? Or would you go into battle thinking you had this in the bag and there was no point in giving your all?” 

“Potentially changing the outcome and losing or someone dying that shouldn’t have,” Varric rumbled thoughtfully next to her. Leave it to the writer to catch on. 

“Exactly. Everything I’ve read that mentioned having knowledge of the future follows the rule of not telling everyone everything about it so the future doesn’t get changed, and it’s cliche as hell, but it’s a cliche for a reason. I’ll happily tell you what I think would be safe to tell without changing anything, but there are a lot of things that actually depend on choices that you or others make. The fact that I’m even here already changes tons because I’m not supposed to be.” 

“What does that mean?” Maxwell asks with a raised brow. 

“Uh...it means that I already saw the next five years happen but I wasn’t a part of it until that rift threw me into the middle of a land I don’t belong in. That’s already changed a hell of a lot and I don’t know what kind of impact that’s going to have. Everything I know is a series of probabilities that can change based on choices. So while I may hope for one outcome and can try to counsel you to choose it, ultimately you can decide to do something totally different and change the future that I know.” 

“This is all giving me a headache,” Maxwell mumbles, rubbing his forehead. 

Crystal snorts.“Tell me about it.” 

“Basically,” she continues, “I’m one of the good guys and I’ll try to help as much as I can in return for protection. I’m not a fighter, nor do I have magic, so I’m alone and have no real way of keeping safe by myself here. Sounds pathetic, but...” she shrugs, trailing off to observe their faces. Maxwell and Varric both had their eyebrows raised as they silently conversed with a series of nods and expressions. She wouldn’t have thought they’d had enough time to bond enough to pull off that kind of thing, but they seemed to understand each other. 

“Alright, I can’t promise anything right this very moment,” Maxwell states as he crosses his arms. “You are of course welcome to come to Haven. We have all kinds of people just showing up there daily, so that’s not a problem. I believe the Mother is going there herself in a few days, so you could probably travel with her party if you wanted. We were heading over to the horsemaster’s tomorrow, and we’ll take all you’ve told us and the map markers into consideration during our journey. We should be able to get back to the Crossroads in about a week. If you’re still here and your information proved helpful, we’ll discuss taking you with us and talking to the other leaders. How does that sound?” 

Her shoulders drop as she sighs in relief. “Perfectly fair. I’ll probably stay until you guys get back. I don’t relish the thought of traveling with wagons full of sisters and Mother Giselle. They are best dealt with in small doses.” Varric snorts and the two of them share a small smirk. 

“We need you to meet the others in our party, so they know where the info came from. That’s okay, right?” Maxwell asks, already halfway to leaving.  

“As long as you are able to stop Cassandra from coming after me thinking I’m a demon or something.” 

Maxwell groans dramatically. “Ugh. I have experienced that Cassandra and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. No head lopping today.” 

He turns back to the party that had remained behind, yelling loud enough to be heard over the noise of everyone still celebrating. 

“Cassandra, Solas. Could you come here please?” 

They came forward, followed by Giles who had apparently noticed they were headed towards her and decided to take up his role of protector once more. 

He nods politely at Maxwell. “Ah, you found our Crystal. They bullying you, girl?” 

She grins softly, “No, Giles. I’m fine. Thank you.” 

“You’re the one they say came out of a rift as well?” 

Having Solas’s attention on her was terrifying, mostly because of what she knew of him but also a bit because she wasn’t sure what all he could see. 

“I am. Sorry, no mark,” she shrugs, noting his gaze wandering from her hands to any other visible bit of skin. 

“Crystal here has been very helpful and provided us with some information to help with our travels here, and we’ll be taking her to Haven with us when we get back,” Maxwell informs them, patting her shoulder. 

Cassandra studies her with a frown. “Are you certain that is wise? She could be a spy or even possessed.”

“We had plenty of people look her over, and she is just human. I’m afraid we didn’t even think about the possibility of her bein’ a spy. Doubt it though. She’s a good girl,” Giles adds helpfully.

“I’m not, but I’m sure Leliana will be able to figure that out.” 

Cassandra’s gaze sharpened as she stared at Crystal. “How do you know Leliana?” 

“Err, she says she knows things. Like a seer.” Maxwell explains, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Not like a seer. I’m not magic or whatever. I just...know things.” 

“Did you perhaps converse with anyone whilst you were in the fade?” Solas asks.  

“I don’t remember ever being in the fade. I just remember a green glow then I was here.” 

“Interesting,” Solas nods, his eyes piercing her as though she was a puzzle to solve. Crystal shifted nervously, not enjoying having the undivided attention of Solas on her. At any moment he could decide she was a threat to his plans. 

Giles must have interpreted her slight grimace to be one of pain because he suddenly pointed to Solas. 

“Oy, you with the stick. You can heal?” 

“Yes? I have some healing ability.” 

“Good. Do yer sparkle hands on our wee lass here. She’s been working hard with only one working arm long enough. Oh, and do ye still need help with the ribs too?” 

“Um, they are not as bad anymore. Although I would be very grateful for help with my arm. I...cannot pay you. I have nothing unless you’ll accept some healing potions I’ve made.” 

“Those will be appreciated.” 

“Here, sit lass. Is this going to hurt her?” 

“Not too much. The spell dulls the pain as it works.” 

Giles leads her to a stone step and stands at her side. She shakily begins to try taking off her sling but is surprised when Varric gently pries her hand away and begins untangling the knot himself. She smiles her thanks and relaxes a little as he works. He grimaces at the fading bruising around the wrist once he removes all the wrapping, then hisses in sympathy when she squeaks in pain as he helps to hold her shaking arm out for Solas to work on. 

Solas mutters some words and suddenly a green glow surrounds her arm, the bones rippling under her skin in a way that was both disturbing and fascinating. 

“That’s so weird,” she mumbles. It was like one of those horror movie scenes where someone had bugs or worms moving around under their skin. 

“There. It’s completely healed, but it will still be tender for a few days as you get used to using that arm again.” Solas states as the glow disappears and he backs away. 

Crystal flexes her fingers a few times, amazed that while her arm still felt weak and twinged with pain a little bit, she was still able to freely move it. 

“Thank you, Solas. I appreciate it,” She grinned. Potentially nutball of a God or not, he’d saved her months of recovery time. 

He nodded politely and rejoined his group that had been having their own private conversation while he’d been working, no doubt about her. 

“Does it feel better?” Varric asks, handing her a mug of something. She took a sniff and realized it was some sort of alcohol, but she wasn’t very knowledgeable about the different types out here. Some sort of mead if she had to guess. She shrugs and takes a big gulp, smacking her lips a little as she contemplates the taste. 

“Mmm, yeah. Won’t be able to punch with it for a while, but at least I can stop getting dressed onehanded,” she giggles. 

Varric smirks, “Well if you find that you still need help with that, let me know.” 

“Ah,” she shakes her head playfully, “If only you’d been here to make that offer yesterday. I was so desperate I probably would have taken you up on that.” 

His eyes shined mischievously as he shrugs. “Well, damn my luck.” 

“If you two are done flirting, we need to get going,” Maxwell chuckled as he strode towards them, smirking as Crystal’s blush darkened. 

Varric cleared his throat and stuck his hands into his pockets, stepping away from her a bit. She didn’t really like that, but she understood. 

“I hope you guys stay safe. Remember to take advantage of the spots I marked for setting up camps.” 

Maxwell nodded and grasped her hand, bowing over it slightly. 

“In case your advice proves handy, thank you in advance. We shall see you in a week.” 

Crystal nodded and smiled as he sauntered off to join the rest of his party. Varric takes a few steps before pausing, pulling something out of his pocket and tossing it towards her. She catches it easily in her right hand, light making the object glitter. It was some sort of crystal. She glanced up at him and quirked an eyebrow, wondering he was trying to make some sort of lame pun. 

“Not a joke, I swear,” he chuckles, palms raised. “In case the village gets attacked again while we’re gone, you can call us for help.” 

Oh. It was one of those. She couldn’t remember the name, but she could recall that was how Iron Bull and Dorian communicated in the game. 

“Thank you, Varric. I appreciate it,” She says softly, cradling it to her chest. 

He nods and does a little salute before he joins the others, leaving her to watch them grab their gear and a share of the cooked meat. She tried to convince herself she wasn’t disappointed that he didn’t look back again.  

She sighs and walks towards her hut, shaking her head at her foolishness. She couldn’t believe how easy it was for her to behave like a schoolgirl with a crush around Varric, even when she knew it was a very stupid thing to even think like that. She knew all about Bianca and his unhealthy attachment to her. One stupid girl from another realm or whatever wasn’t going to change anything. 

Besides, she had other things to worry about. Like staying alive. 

[kierarutherford]

THANK YOU!!!!

So @gugle1980 bought me a ko-fi and while she didn’t request anything in exchange I just had to write something for her. So without further or do here is a little piece between Cullen and Rylen (her two favorites) having a few drinks and discussing some pretty special women. I do hope you enjoy!  1629 words of fluffy, joking men, getting drunk. Under cut for length.

One More For the Road

Down time. There was precious little of it at Skyhold these days. Rylen had been an asset beyond anything Cullen could have hoped for, and he was more than grateful for the invitation. Drinks at the Heralds Rest. He went nearly nightly, his usual half pint before trudging back up the steps and into his loft bed. It helped ease the tension from his weary body and he enjoyed the warm banter about him as he drank and enjoyed a small meal.

Removing his armor and placing it upon the stand in his tower he rolled his neck, the weight of Commander easing away as he pulled his mantle over his shoulders. Bracing himself against the cool evening air he strolled the battlements towards the tavern. Several guards and scouts acknowledged him, one asking for a quick answer to a missive. Skimming the paragraph, he gave an order and continued along his route. Once at the tavern it didn’t take him long to find the table with Rylen and a small group of men and women. Waved over he was ushered into a seat at the head of the table. “The man o’the hour!” Rylen raised his tankard, the crew about him followed before clinking mugs and drinking down a healthy gulp.

Rolling his eyes with a chuckle he took the stein passed to him. “How about to the men and women seated here now, and to the Inquisition.” Tipping his mug up he drank several gulps before setting it down. “So sullen and serious.” Rylen chided as he helped pass the tray of bread, cheese and meats about. “This is a time to relax, an’ enjoy ourselves.”

“True. We’ve earned a night off,” a stout man grinned. “All thanks to the big men over there. Were it not for you two, this mess would fall apart.” Everyone laughed as the crew nodded towards Rylen and Cullen. “To you two!”

Cullen chuckled and clapped Rylen on the back, “seems you have a few fans.”

“None as pretty as your Inquisitor, but I make due.” Ribbing him back Rylen waved the men off, “drink, eat, get drunk. Tis our night.” With a loud cheer and more clanging of mugs the group of men and women began to chatter between themselves.

Rylen leaned in tight to Cullen, “how’s it going with the lass? You seem to have a bounce to yer step now.” Cullen hastily swallowed the mouth full of ale, thankful it went into his stomach and not his lungs. “Lass? Anya? Uh well…”

“Come now. She’s put colour in your cheeks. Somethin’ I haven’t seen, ever.” Chuckling Rylen nudged him. “You embarrassed mate?”

“No, no nothing like that. Just wasn’t expecting you to bring it up. I should know better with your cavalier ways.” Arching his brow, he shook his head, “you should speak. You seem a bit rosier than I remember as well. What’s her name?” He had thought he’d trip up Rylen, but Rylen wasn’t so easily shaken. “Her name is Kara. Kara Maeve. Damn fine lass. Twin blade rogue and a hell of a fighter. I should know, she’s enjoyed fighting with me damn near daily.” Chuckling Rylen drew in a long drink before reaching for the pitcher to refill their steins. “I plan on speaking to her proper when we get back to the Approach.”

“You haven’t yet? Is there something in the way?” Cullen rested his elbows upon the table, granting Rylen all his attention. “Nah. Between everything we’ve dealt with, I haven’t had the chance.” Shrugging he sighed, “she was pretty beat up by a Varghest, uttered some interesting things in her feverish sleep. I… I told her I love her man.”

Cullen half spat out his ale, “you what?”

“I told her I loved her. I do. I donna think she believes me, but I plan on getting it through that thick skull that I ain’t one to play games.” Rylen snorted before clapping Cullen on the back. “But here I am talking on and on like a scullery maid when I asked you the question. How goes things with your lass?”

Feeling more comfortable having heard Rylen’s story, and the ale easing him into a relaxed state he sighed, “they are well. Anya is, she’s wonderful.”

“You seem a wee bit smitten, Commander,” Rylen grinned wide as he reached for his drink. “You’re a lucky man. How’d you land yourself that beauty?” He let out a brisk chuckle as Cullen’s cheeks tinted a darker rose. “I don’t deserve her.” Cullen mumbled over the tankard before downing the last of its contents. Rylen was all too happy to top him up. “Ah, you’re too hard on yourself. Always have been.”

“I’m not… the withdrawal…” his voice was hushed as he leaned closer to Rylen. “It’s gotten worse since we last spoke. I… My hands go numb sometimes, makes it impossible to write. I get headaches that make reading anything a struggle at best. I have aches and pains now; the nightmares are more vivid. Anya was the one who pushed me to keep going. She thinks I can beat this. I don’t…”

“The lass is right.” Rylen gripped Cullen’s shoulder. “Maybe one day I’ll join ya. You’ve got more guts than half the men running face first into the fray. I’m with Anya, you can do this.”  Sighing heavily, he raised his tankard, “come now, let’s toast the women. Who foolishly fell for two brash bastards.”

Snorting his reply Cullen clinked his mug against Rylen’s before downing a mouthful of honey sweet ale. “You’re going to get me drunk.”

“That’s the plan,” Rylen sneered. “You of all people need to relax.”

“Don’t start that shit.” Cullen growled, “Varric said the same damned thing the other night.”

“Oi the night you lost your knickers,” Rylen sputtered as he laughed. “The wee Master regaled me in the tale. Says he’s going to have to use blood magic to get you to come out and play again. A dwarf threatening blood magic. Must have been quite the scene.” Rylen enjoyed the fresh hint of pink that had travelled up Cullen cheeks and began to paint his ears. “I’m sure the Lady enjoyed the view.”

“I… You bastard.” Cullen glowered as he drained his mug, greedily searching for the buzz that would ward off his embarrassment. “Perhaps I should ask your men what follies their Commanding Officer has gotten into? Maybe a personal letter to this Kara Maeve?”

“Don’t you bloody dare.” Rylen shot back, trying to stifle a round of snickers. “You don’t need to be minding that business, ser.”

Together they laughed heartily until the ale was gone and both men could barely stand. “You… You’re drunk.” Cullen slurred as Rylen half flopped over the barstool. “You, shh, ya arse.” Rylen chided as he regained himself. “I can handle my ale. Tis you who are the light weight.”

“Light weight? I believe we drank a keg, between the two of us.” Cullen used the wall to hold himself up and tried to discern the best course to his quarters. Crossing the battlements with his wobbly legs wasn’t looking like the best idea. “Oi, get your arse to bed. My bunk ain’t but far from here. Try not to fall over the damn walls.” Rylen giggled as he knocked over his tankard, sending it shattering across the floor. Cabot’s grunt of displeasure had both men hurrying for the front door.

Once outside in the night air, Cullen shivered, “get some rest. I’ll see you off in the morrow.”

“You mean afternoon, I doubt either of us is fit for anything till after noon’s sun.” Rylen half pushed Cullen as he stumbled off towards his bed. “Take care of the lass will ya.”

“Lass…” Cullen’s grin widened. By now Anya would be in her quarters and it wasn’t so late that she would be sleeping. Straightening himself up best he could he began the slow stumbling walk to the main doors of the keep. It took every ounce of control he had to properly acknowledge the guards by the front entrance and maintain his composure till he reached her bedroom door. Running his hand through his hair he slipped inside the first door, careful not to slam it behind him. Each step had him gripping the railing in effort to prevent him from falling. Reaching the top, he caught sight of her, sitting at her desk, working on the last few letters of the day. Her shoulder length ebony hair framed her face like perfect and he let out a soft sigh upon seeing her. “Cullen?”

“Aye lass,” he began to laugh as he tripped and flopped down on the couch, just making it. “I had to come see you. I missed you.”

Anya laughed and set her quill down, “I see you missed the ale as well. And Rylen by that suddenly Starkhaven accent. Unless you’ve decided to go Avvar on us.” Settling herself upon the couch she guided Cullen’s head into her lap, where she calmly ran her fingers through his hair. “I missed you too.”

Sitting like this for some time they talked, catching up on each others’ daily life before Cullen nodded off in her lap. While he would suffer a hangover come morning, he had to admit it was a good night and he owed Rylen a thank you. Sending a couple kegs with him to the Western Approach he wrote a quick letter, “maybe a few drinks will loosen the girl’s tongue. Unless you really are unlucky. Best wishes with your lass, Cullen.”

A few weeks later he received a message from the Approach. “Ale works every time. Drinks next time we meet. Perhaps your lass can meet mine. Rylen.”

[redinkofshame]

Kirkwall Noir

I tried to combine traditional Noir with Hard in Hightown to bring us Varric Tethras, Private Eye. These thirteen codex-sized chapters are filled with drugs, sex, violence, and old timey slang. I’ll be posting one a day on tumblr, and then I’ll post them all at once on  AO3. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Chapter 10

I had her twice that night — or, I guess I should say, Marigold had me. We woke up naked on Father Sebastian’s fancy loveseat. I’d have to remember to send him a thank you note.

As we pieced our clothes back together I check my suitcase and my wallet; it wasn’t that I didn’t trust her, but one could never be too careful. After finding that my wallet still had it’s contents intact I began to pull out some cash. “Hey, uh, how much do I owe you for last night?” I asked awkwardly.

She gave me an appraising look. Her ‘do was ruined, so she was pulling down her copper curls. I liked her better like that. “Last night was on the house,” she said with a small smile. “That was for Marigold, not Penny.”

“Oh,” I considered that for a moment, then smiled. “Does that mean I can take you to breakfast?”

She beamed.

She was somewhat less amused, however, when I picked the lock to let us out — I had never planned on waiting for the priest to come to our rescue. Still, she shared a taxi with me to the hash house near my flop. Their bacon was nothing to get excited about, but the eggs were good and the coffee was great.

We ate. We talked about the case — she seemed interested in it now that I wasn’t hounding her friends. Not at the moment, anyway. We also talked about normals things; work, the movies, and the like.

We were walking out the door when it happened. A car careened around a corner to my right, goons with beanshooters leaning out the window. I saw them just in time to shove Marigold back inside and duck. Gunfire rained down the street, shattering the windows all around us. People screamed, including Marigold.

When I realized they were going to make a U-turn I booked it into an alley. They had me behind the 8-ball but I wasn’t done yet. I didn’t worry about Marigold; it was me they were after, so she’d be safer inside.

Instead I yanked open my suitcase and pulled out the lock, stock, and barrel, of my custom-made tommy gun, Bianca. Her circular drum of .45 ammo made her an effective submachine gun. Some papers that were supposed to be in a separate pocket fell out and got swept up by the wind but I didn’t have time to worry about it.

I jammed the parts together just in time to take partial cover behind a trash can as the boiler passed me and opened fire again. This time I returned the favor.

I didn’t aim for the men in the car, but blew out their tires instead. The car screeched to a halt not far from me and I raced out. They piled out of the car and I gave them hell.

They dropped like flies, except the driver, who made a run for it. I chased after him. My legs are short but his luck was shorter — he would have gotten away if he hadn’t tried to lose me in an alley that ended up being a dead end.

He turned but I was already there. “Who sent you?” I demanded.

He spat at me. I could have sworn I recognized him.

I leveled Bianca. “Tell me who sent you before I blast your grits all over the pavement!”

Instead of answering the idiot pulled a handgun from inside his jacket. I let him have it, filling his belly with led.

It was only after the deed was done that I felt my shirt getting wet, and shortly thereafter felt the intensity of the pain that went with it.

The bastard had managed to shoot me after all.

Pressing my hand to the wound I limped over to body and starting digging through his pockets. Marigold came around the corner, then. I would have expected her to use those getaway sticks to breeze, but instead she stepped towards me. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll live. I’m just looking for… Ah, there it is.”

“What’s that?” she asked, looking at what I’d just pulled out.

I held it up. “This, Ms. Kadret, is a police badge. This man is an officer, in plain clothes, trying to chill me.”

“Wow…” she said. “Who did you piss off?”

[araglas1989-writing]

The long journey

This story containts some Flashbacks which are not in their chronological order. So to know what happenes in which order I made a fixpoint (the day the chantry blows up) and counted from there. At the beginning from each flashback stands a shortcuts. for example 1y6 b.ch.b.u. means 1 year 6 months before chantry blows up

Chapter 1

"So it begins", Meredith stated icily, "I must gather my forces at the Gallows - meet me there as soon as you can Champion. I'll leave this... murderer for you to deal with. He's your companion. Do as you see fit."

Hawke nodded to her as she left, turning to Anders who sat motionless on a crate, his back to the other mage.

Anders seemed to sense his approach. "There is nothing you can say that I haven't said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages awaited."

"Did the spirit tell you to do this?" Asked Hawke, attempting to give Anders a loophole. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt any of his companions after all.

Hawke still couldn't process what had happened. Couldn’t accept that this was really Anders’ doing, that he himself had helped to blow up the chantry.... But small glimmer of hope he had had was crushed by Anders next words.

"No. When we merged he ceased to be. We are one now. I can no more ignore the injustice of the circle than he could. The world needs to see this. Then we can all stop pretending that the circles are a solution." Anders’ voice was cold, so devoid of emotion that it hurt to hear it.

"So it's up to you to decide how things should be?" Hawke's voice trembled slightly in disbelief.

"It's obvious how things shouldn't be. And if I pay for that with my life... then I pay. Perhaps then justice would at least be free."

Hawke sighed and turned to his other companions. He would not decide this on his own.

"Opinions?"

Sebastian’s raged filled voice was first. "If I'd been in that chantry today, would you wailing? You know what must be done!"

"Bold plan. Well I thought so." The pirate stated next, not really being of any help at all.

Aveline's voice sounded strained. "Belief is no excuse. Sincerity does not justify this." As always, she demonstrated nothing except strength, but those who knew her could see that this wasn't easy for her.

"I think I'm sick of mages and templars" Varric spat in disgust, aonce again not being of any help insofar as the decision that Hawke had to make in respect to Anders.

~~~~

After the threat of the mages was resolved, Fenris stood a apart of the others. The warrior still felt the buzz of magic leftover from the fight in his markings, still tasted the metallic taste of it at the back of his tongue. He couldn't believe what just had happened. Or rather he couldn't believe that Anders hadn’t told him what he had planned. After all they had been a couple for one and a half years now...

Somehow Fenris' thoughts wandered to their first touch… the first that wasn't meant to hurt. It was after Anders took care of him while he had the flu.

The warrior hadn't wanted to the help, but the Mage had been patient and came by every day with soup, potions or salves to help the headaches and take care of him regardless.

First the blonde left as soon as he had made sure that Fenris took everything he had brought, but later, after Fenris settled in with the routine, Anders stayed longer.

(2y2 b.ch.b.u.)

 The warrior was finally back to full health. Anders had come one last time to check up on him, to make sure he was fully healthy. When once the Healers presence felt natural, it now felt...strained, awkward.

 "I just wanted to check, if everything is alright..."

 "It is"

 "That's good... uh... yeah stay healthy, yes? Okay I... will just go now..." Anders fidgeted a little, brushing away a non-existent mote from his robe and turned to leave.

 "Mage?" Fenris took a step closer at the exact moment that the healer turned back around, standing now in his personal space. "You look tired. Stay a while."

   Without thinking he had reached out to touch Anders' shoulder, but when the mage's gaze shot to his hand, he hastily removed it. Fenris' eyebrows went up in surprise, when Anders’ own hand shot forward, caught his hand and entwined their fingers. Judging from Anders’ facial expression, the healer was also surprised at his own actions. Fenris squeezed Anders’ hand gently to reassure him, glad that he wasn’t wearing his gauntlets.

   A small smile appeared on Anders' lips "I would like to stay"

Gradually, little by little, they began to trust each other...care for each other. It was nearly one and a half years ago that they had decided to give a romantic relationship a try.

Without the spite, their arguments turned into normal (if sometimes heated) discussions. But being intimate with each other helped them to understand each other, to learn to see things with from the others point of view. Fenris now believed that Anders might be right, mages deserved to be free. But they also agreed, that when the magic first manifests, the children needed to be separated from the rest and be schooled by older mages in order to learn to control their magic. AND, most importantly, that the parents should be able to visit them. They further agreed that as soon as the young mages learned to control themselves and learned their specialities they should be free to go where ever they wanted.

This is why Fenris couldn't understand what had just had happened. Why would Anders destroy everything he had fought for? and why would the healer destroy what they had? Why would he betray Fenris?

The Warrior had noticed that Anders had been behaving a little strange these days, but he had thought it was because Anders wanted to separate himself from Justice. He’d been wrong. Now Fenris knew that Anders had lied to him, and that hurt so much more than Fenris would have believed possible. Still, with the hurt also came burning fury and that was an emotion that Fenris greeted like an old friend. Fury he could comprehend. Fury he could handle.

~~~~

Merrill watched Anders for a moment, thinking about what to say: "He should come with us. Do what he can to put things right. "

"And fight side by side with templars? That's insane! I would rather die than do that!"

It was the anger in Anders‘ voice that brought Fenris back to there here and now, hate filling his entire being as he snapped.

“I will show you why Mages are feared' " he snarled with disgust "is this not your battle cry? Because that is exactly what you just have done, fool mage! Do you not see what you have done? You have thrown every mage into war! Do you think the templars will stop when it comes to the untrained children? To the Tranquil? To the weak you wanted to protect? They will all die. And what about the innocent non magical people? They will be caught in the crossfire! There is no way for the mages to win this. Even if they eliminate every last templar all non magic people will fear them. You pathetic fool doomed all of your kind!"

"Better they die in the war for freedom than as no better than a slave in the Circle. You of all people should understand this!"

"And it is up to you to decide how they should die? Congratulations, you are just as bad as the templars. You...." Fenris shook his head in disbelief. "You know what? You are dead to me. You destroyed everything. Not only the future of the mages but also ours."

Anders opened his mouth and shut it, then opened it again just to shut it once more, shaken by his own rage. He even glowed slightly, but his eyes were still honey coloured.

"So... your vote is for killing him?" Hawke turned at Fenris, an eyebrow raised. He paused in surprise when Fenris actually nodded at him. He turned back to Anders, drawing his dagger and stepped close. Anders was just staring at him, deflating again ready to surrender his fate.

With his fade step Fenris was next to Hawke, holding his dagger hand at the wrist. "Stop." He stared at Anders. "Go. It is my fate to kill you and I will, if I ever see you again. GO!" He screamed the last word with all his hate, his hurt, his fury, his despair.

Anders swallowed visibly, before he turned and started running.

Fenris felt his heart break, but he turned around his face blank of every emotion other than his want to kill. "Let us get this mess cleaned up."

~~~

A fight this big without a healer was more than just a bit messy. Hawke knew a little about healing magic but he was no spirit healer. So it was a small miracle that none of their party were mortally wounded.

After order was restored, Hawke made certain that no mage was killed who surrendered and stopped countless assaults on those mages from the templars. Every one of his companions went back to their homes and treated their wounds.

Fenris stayed for four weeks to recover properly from several nasty injuries, long enough to see Hawke become the new vicomte.

The surviving mages were brought back to the circle. But not before Hawke came to and understanding with Cullen that they were treated much better than before. When Fenris was sure that Hawke had everything under control, he decided that his time with the former champion (now the new vicomte) was over.

Everything here reminded him of Anders. He could not stay. So, he bid his goodbye to everyone, promised to keep in touch through letters and took his leave.

[silhouetteofagirl]

Temerity (Varric/Hawke)

I haven't actually played Inquisition due to not having a system that can handle it. So if I've got some details wrong, it's because my friends are really trying to avoid me seeing spoilers. (It's too late though, I know I'm going to be crushed by the fact I can't romance Scout Harding.) 

Read On AO3

(You can also read about my Brosca as well.)

Hawke had arrived in the late evening and, after initial introductions had been made by him, had immediately been thrown into meetings with the inquisitor and her council.  It wasn't that Varric resented how desperately her influence was needed, it was more that, well, he was nervous.  He had missed Hawke, she was one of his dearest friends, but Varric wasn’t sure how this reunion would actually go.

He’d tried to distract himself, but his heart wasn’t into cheating at cards nor was his head in the right place to read or write.  Still, he finds himself awake far into the small hours of the morning.  It’s his favorite time of night, the world is a bit quieter and people are prone to be far more honest, or dishonest, both of which made for an interesting time.  Yet here he was, sitting at his desk fighting the dull buzz of anxiety that filled his brain.

“Oh, mother of a nug-humping bastard!” he curses, dropping his quill onto the desk.  It’s pointless for him to try to continue, but he knows sleep is going to evade him, even if he tries.

There’s a chuckle from behind him, “Hate to disappoint, but I am not quite any of those things.  Though, I think that is an insult I have not been called yet.” 

 Hawke is leaning against his doorframe, arms crossed loosely with an amused expression on her face.  She’s still in her leather pants from the road, but her more formal chest plate has been removed.

“Hawke, when did you—” His heart simultaneously leaps in his chest and plummets to his feet.  It’s a very uncomfortable experience, but here she is.  Between her dark circles and the smudges of dirt on her, it’s clear she’s worn from her travels, but her grin matches his and she seems to be just as happy to see him.

“Well, your door was open and after I had my ear talked off by the inquisition I could really use a drink.” she shrugs, straightening herself.

“The tavern is probably closed,” Varric says, standing up and slinging on his jacket.

“Like that ever stopped us.” she says with her usual teasing tone.

Varric chuckles, “Figured I’d give you the opportunity to maintain a somewhat decent reputation with the inquisitor before I offered.”

“If she knows you, I think my reputation has been thoroughly sullied.  No need to keep up pretenses.” She smiles down at him.  They chat about nothing particularly serious.  Her trip was long and uneventful and she only heard a few erroneous tales about her.  Varric laughs at that and then he tells her that apparently Cassandra, “that’s the one who dragged me in for questioning”, is quite the fan of his work.  That gives Hawke a good laugh and then she mentions that Fenris has officially banned reading any of Varric’s work for practice.

“The stuff about me is weird and he gets frustrated at your artistic license and your other literature is… well,” she says.  They arrive at the tavern and sure enough, it is dark.  He reaches into a pocket a draws out his set of picks and sets to work.

“Aw, he didn’t like Hard in Hightown?”

“Initially he liked it, you have quite the flair for description, but once he realized you had written it, he got uncomfortable.” The lock clicks and they share a conspiratorial smile.

Varric enters, looking around until he finds a lamp in the low light.  “So my works are damned by association.” he strikes a match and lights the lamp so Hawke can see where she’s going.  They make their way to the bar and light a few of the candles there.  It gives their corner of the bar a warm glow.

It’s a scene he’s described many times before in many contexts.  The night is still and the candlelight flickers in the reflection of various bottles.  The two of them sit at the bar, secluded in the corner, the rest of the world seemingly forgot.  Hawke’s eyes sparkle in the low light as she smiles slowly and secretively.  If Varric was merely a character in a story he was writing, he wouldn’t be quite sure what to say.  Sure he would write that his mouth had gone dry at the sight of her sauntering around the bar, but is she merely walking with her usual confident sway, or is it the exhaustion from traveling that is making her walk so fluidly, or is it something more?  Is the correct adjective for how she reaches up to grab a bottle from the shelf so careful because she is sore from the road, or is the movement achingly slow just so he can see the full length of her neck?

But if he were a character of his own creation, he would write about the incredible heaviness in the air.  Something hangs in the air between them, something electric and uncertain, and it makes each action of Hawke’s seem to last an eternity.  Hawke’s muscled arms ripple as she pulls the cork from the bottle, each bend of her wrist is fluid as she pours, and each inhale of breath makes the shadows hug her form.  It all makes Varric very glad he really doesn’t write romances, well, at least slow ones.

Hawke slides him his glass and re-corks the bottle.  “So we should talk Varric.”

His throat goes dry and the anxiety from earlier climbs up it to crawl back into his skull.  “Uh, yes.”

Hawke picks up her drink, takes a swig, and then makes her way back around the bar.  Her soft footfalls are the only noise in the heavy silence that stretches between them.  He takes the opportunity to take a drink himself; the whiskey does nothing to wet his throat.  She stops next to where he is sitting and places her glass on the counter.  The turn he makes to face her feels more like putting on a noose than facing a friend, but he turns anyway.  He’s never been quite sure how she does it, but Hawke looks so confident leaning against the tall bar counter.

“Did you really mean what you said? About being in love with me?” she asks softly.

Varric swallows.  He can feel the lie on the tip of his tongue, almost see the plot of that Varric and that Hawke who laugh off any discomfort and go back to what was.  He can predict and plan for those two, knows the setup, the foreshadow, to a familiar story that he so desperately wants.  But he’s never met someone who defied every genre like Hawke and he knows that he cannot try to change what their story will be.  So he puts down his glass, swallows the lie, and says the truth unable to look away from her intense gaze.  “Every word.”

“Good,” Hawke says bluntly and he finds himself being pulled forward by his lapels, her lips on his.  Varric’s genres are all mixed up, when did this adventure novel bleed into a romance and when did he go from narrator to just a character along for the ride of the plot.  Yet what words could Varric ever write that could describe this.  The feeling of her lips on his, Hawke’s tight grip keeping him up against her, the way her hair felt between his fingers, the taste of whiskey on her tongue.

When she pulls away so they can breathe, her tight grip on his lapels does not loosen.  He’s still not entirely sure what had just happened, but he cannot deny her firm hold on him is grounding.

“Hawke? We going to talk about this?” he asks between breaths of air.

She takes a step forward so she is standing between his knees.  “I’m a woman of action, Varric, not words.  And Maker knows I’ve talked enough tonight.” Hawke says sharply and then she is kissing him again.  He’s described kisses like this before, desperate, demanding, determined, delightful, the whole range, but this kiss is so incredibly like her.  How she teases his bottom lip between her teeth before returning back to kissing him.  All he can do is hang on and try to give as good as he’s getting as she kisses him.  But eventually, they have to breathe once more.

“Fenris?” he asks as she presses her forehead against his as they pant.

“Is happy Isabella owes him 10 sovereigns.  She didn’t think you would ever tell me.” She pulls back and smiles at him.

“Figured they would gamble.” He mutters, trying to ignore the blush crossing his cheeks.

Hawke smooths down his lapels, “But Fenris and I have talked and talked and talked.  And I am so done with talking.”

“Then, by all means, Hawke, we can talk later.” She grins wickedly at his words.  Later, when he will try to remember what happens next as inspiration for one of his more realistic romance novels, he will be unable.  He won’t know how he ended up pressed against the bar counter, legs around her waist.  He won’t be able to recall who put their hands down the other’s shirt first, just that he had left angry red scratches down her back when she had kissed and bit a trail down his neck.  Varric won’t be able to place when she had tugged his ponytail out, but he will remember that their drinks ended up being left on the counter.  Regardless, his inability to remember will leave him frustrated and not just because of the writer’s block.  But there they are, her muscles tense under his fingers as she pins him to the bar, a hand tangled in his hair.

When her breath catches when he traces the curve of her shoulder, over her collarbone, to the swell of her breast, Varric pauses.  “May I?”

“Yes, just be careful.  I got a bit banged up on the way here.” She says, before returning her attentions to his neck where she was working on quite the collection of marks.

“Andraste’s tits, Hawke!  Why the hell are we doing this is you’re ‘a bit banged up’.” She pulls away and gives him a look.

“Because honestly Varric, I’d like to be more than a bit banged up.” She says bluntly, pressing herself more firmly against him.

He kisses her, but it's brief and she frowns when he ends it.  “Any other night, Waffles, but I’m not willing to continue until I’ve seen the damage.” Hawke nods and they slowly untangle themselves as their hands still wander.

“Come on, let’s go to my room where I have some supplies.”

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to get me in a bed?” she teases, tugging lightly on his hair.  Varric chuckles and straightens his clothes

“All in good time.” He says and pulls her down for a lazy kiss.  “But the sooner we get there, the sooner I get your shirt off.”

Hawke laughs at that and makes her way to the door.  “Well then, come on.” He blows out the candles and follows her out.  Once again they chatter on the way to his room, but this time there are surreptitious touches and they are both more relaxed.  Varric hadn’t noticed how tense he had been on the journey here, but this time he can appreciate just the act of walking with her late at night as they used to.  He hadn’t realized how much he had missed having Hawke around until he’s laughing at a joke she made as they just walk.  Sure, there’s a promise of something more between them, but he has to pause to catch her arm.

She looks down at him, “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Never, it’s just nice to see you, Hawke,” he says.  Hawke smiles and inclines her head.  No quick quip this time, but sometimes quick wit isn’t needed.  The quiet moment passes and they continue on their way, words a bit softer.  When they get to his room, he points her to the bed.

“Shirt off, Hawke,” Varric commands, going over to a chest to grab out his traveling gear.

“You could buy get a girl a drink first.” she scoffs, but she starts to peel out of her tunic.

“I just did.  You decided not to drink it.” He replies evenly, pulling out his medical gear from a pouch.  He turns to face her and finds her mostly tangled in her shirt.  Hawke had stopped halfway through removing her tunic to make sure he could see her rolling her eyes.

“You didn’t pay for it.” she says and pulls her shirt off the rest of the way.

“No, just picked the lock for you.” He crosses over to her.  There are a few nasty bruises along her torso, a cut that goes from collarbone to just over her heart, what looks like a shallow stab wound, and a few nicks that seem to be from some other event.  “How did you get these?”

“I didn’t exactly want to wear my plate up a mountain.” she sniffs.  It isn’t the first time he’s seen her without her shirt, nor is this the first time that he’s had to patch her up, but there’s something about the angry scratch marks that wrap around her ribs to just over her hips and the knowledge that he gave her that takes his breath away.  She’s just as scarred as he is; he knows many of the stories behind the silver marks that litter her skin, but he has no intention of her gaining a new scar just because there were more enticing activities they could be doing than cleaning and binding her wounds.

Hawke must have noticed how his eyes wandered more than needed to check for her injuries because she leans back on his bed and smirks.  “You’re the one who wanted to stop.”

Varric clears his throat and puts the supplies he had gathered on the bed.  “Yes.  What the hell am I supposed to say? The Champion of Kirkwall risked infection because I was impatient? That is hardly a good story.”

“You could say I had to fight a demon or something.”  She hisses and he dabs the cut with some alcohol.  “Maker knows that there are enough demons that it’s believable.”

“Boring,” he says.  Varric isn’t as overly careful with his hands as he had been in the past, letting fingers brush on her warm skin.  They lapse into silence as he carefully cleans the wound and rubs salve into the worst of her bruises. By the time comes to bind her cut, he has to rouse her.  “Come on, Hawke.  Just a little longer, then you can sleep.”

She mutters something but sits up enough that he can wrap the wound. She starts to say something and he merely murmurs, “Just fucking sleep Hawke.”  Then he is taking off her boots, shifting her so he can pull blankets up and over her as she makes a noise of agreement.  Then he gets ready to sleep and before he can think twice about it, lays down next to her.  Hawke shifts in her sleep and throws an arm over his torso.  Varric falls asleep with Hawke snoring softly in his ear and smile on his face.

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke modern AU: Danarius

Chapter 9 of the bartender AU Damned Spot is up on AO3!

In which FENRIS CONFRONTS DANARIUS OH DAMN. LOL. 

*********************

Fenris pushed open the door to the Hanged Man and strode over to the bar.

Piper and Hawke looked up at his abrupt entrance. Piper frowned, and Hawke’s eyes widened in surprise. “Fenris!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here? It’s early-”

“I need to speak to you,” he said. “In private.” He shot Piper an expectant glance.

Piper folded her arms. “Anything you want to say to Hawke, you can say to me. And then I can tell you to fuck off, which Hawke clearly isn’t willing to-”

“Thanks, Pipes,” Hawke said loudly. She laughed nervously and patted Piper’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go back to the stockroom? Those crates of wine aren’t going to unpack themselves. Or, uh, go catch up with Varric about Game of Thrones. His theories about the final season are a little too out there, in my opinion.”

Piper obstinately lifted her chin, and Fenris rested his palms on the bar and gazed steadily at her. “I wouldn’t ask if this was not important,” he said firmly. In truth, he hated making his urgency so obvious, but the revelations of the past week had his nerves stretched tight.

Piper shot him a hard look, then unfolded her arms. “Fine,” she said. She pointed sternly at Hawke. “But if you want me to come out and kick his ass, you fucking call me.”

“Yep, uh-huh, will do,” Hawke sing-songed, then grimaced at Fenris as Piper disappeared into Varric’s office. “Sorry,” she said. “She’s, um, protective. What’s going on?”

“I cannot work tonight,” he blurted. “Perhaps not tomorrow, either.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Fenris lowered his voice. “My sister is coming to meet me.”

“What?” Hawke gasped. “Wait. But she’s…? You said-”

“I am just as stunned as you are,” he murmured. “I found out last week that she’s alive. She managed to get word to a contact of mine. Apparently someone from Isabela’s party posted a photo online, and Varania recognized me.”

Hawke’s face went pale. She covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh Maker,” she breathed. “Fenris, that’s my fault, I’m sorry-”

He shook his head impatiently. “It is done. What matters is Varania is alive and well. She has been working in Minrathous as a waitress this whole time. She thought I was dead.”

“And your mother?” Hawke said eagerly. “Does that mean - is she…?”

She trailed off as he shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “She truly died. But not… it wasn’t Danarius’s men after all. It was her illness. She… she thought I had left her and Varania to fend for themselves.” He broke off and rubbed his mouth with his hand.  

“Oh balls. Fenris, I’m… fuck, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

He shook his head wordlessly. He shouldn’t be telling Hawke all of this. While walking here from his apartment in Lowtown, Fenris had told himself he was coming to the Hanged Man to inform Varric in person that he needed the day off. But he couldn’t deny that he’d known Hawke would be here unpacking the biweekly shipment of wine. As soon as he’d pushed open the door and seen her smiling face, he couldn’t resist telling her what was happening.

Varania was alive and unharmed. She was on her way to meet him. Hawke was the only one who would understand why this was so significant.

And she was the only one who might understand why Fenris was scared.

He placed his palms on the bar again and released a careful breath. “There is a rest stop between Kirkwall and Cumberland. I am meeting her there tomorrow, so I must set out tonight.”  

Hawke lowered her hands from her mouth. “Between - why? Why a rest stop? Why not invite her here? She’d be more than welcome.”

He lifted his gaze to her wide-eyed face. “I believe it’s a trap,” he said, very quietly. “I think Danarius is manipulating her, coercing her. The timing of it… Hawke, it’s too perfect. It is too convenient. Why now? Why would she only find me now, after all this time?”

“But you said it was photos from the party,” Hawke whispered. Her face was anxious and pale, and her hands were twisting together nervously. “If she found photos on the Internet… Fenris, I am so fucking sorry about that, I made you come-”

He grabbed her hand. “It is not your fault,” he snapped, then lowered his voice again. “Danarius must be involved. I know it. They have been in the same city this whole time, and his people knew my family…” He shook his head. “Nothing this fortunate is ever as it seems.”

He took a deep breath, then met Hawke’s wide copper eyes. “Hawke,” he whispered, “if this is a set-up, and events take the turn that I predict they will…”

Her fingers tensed his hand. “No,” she breathed.

“...I may not return,” he finished. “I have to prepare for my… my plans to come to fruition.”

“No,” she hissed. She squeezed his hand hard with both of hers. “Fenris, no. Don’t you fucking do this.”

He tried halfheartedly to free his hand from hers. “I told you, I have no choice. I can’t let my sister be harmed by him. I will not allow it.”

Hawke squeezed his hand even tighter. “Let’s call the police,” she whispered vehemently. “We’ll tell Aveline, tell my brother, they’ll help.”

Fenris shook his head. “This is outside of their jurisdiction.”

“Then bring it into their jurisdiction!” Hawke’s expression was fierce, and her fingers were like a vice around his wrist. “Tell Varania to come here. Or to Isabela’s apartment, or wherever you want, and Aveline will - she’ll set up cordons around the city or something, she’ll keep an eye out-”

Fenris reached up and took her chin in a gentle grip. “Hawke,” he said quietly. “I told you. You cannot change my mind. I did not come here to argue with you, I… I came to say goodbye.”

As soon as the words left his lips, he realized they were true. This was the real reason he’d come here: not to talk to Varric, and not even really to talk to Hawke, but just… to see her. Such a rash, thoughtless action, when he should be getting ready for tomorrow. He should be in Darktown procuring knives and a vest and as much ammo as he could afford. But instead, as soon as he’d received confirmation of Varania’s plans, he’d come straight here.

He stared into Hawke’s shining amber eyes. He was foolish, and coming here was a foolish thing to do when he had such limited time, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Kirkwall without seeing her lovely gamine face one last time.

Her chin was trembling against his thumb. “You’re a fucking asshole,” she whispered.

He swallowed hard. “Yes,” he agreed.

She burst out a watery little laugh. Then her eyes darted over his shoulder.

At the same moment, Fenris heard the door of the Hanged Man creaking open. He turned around to see a slim female figure stepping through the door.

He didn’t recognize her at first; it was dim in the Hanged Man and sunny still outside, and all he saw was the distinct long-legged silhouette of an elf. But his own elven eyes accustomed quickly to the shifting light, and when his gaze finally found her face, his jaw dropped in shock.

It had been almost five years, but her face and her bright green eyes were exactly the same as he remembered. “Varania?” he croaked.

Behind the bar, Hawke gasped. “Holy fuck,” she blurted.

Varania took a tentative step into the pub. “Hello, brother,” she said softly.

Her accent, her voice - they were so strangely familiar that they almost made him dizzy. He stared dumbly at her as she tucked her hands into the pockets of her silk bomber jacket. “H-how did you find me?” he asked.

She shifted her weight to one hip. “You said you were working at a pub now. It wasn’t hard to figure out which one.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I did not tell you I was working in Kirkwall,” he said.

She rolled her eyes, and the expression was so familiar and so dear that it made him lightheaded. “Kaffas, give me some credit,” she scoffed. “How stupid do you think I am?”

Despite his anxiety and his mounting bemusement, he smiled. “Do you really wish for me to answer that?”

Varania grinned. The sight of it gave him an odd, vertiginous feeling of being home, and without really thinking about it, he took a small step toward her.

She shifted back toward the door, and Fenris stopped. “What’s wrong?” he said.

“Nothing,” she replied. Her eyes darted toward the door.

He flicked his eyes at the door as well, then back to her face. “Varania, tell me what is wrong,” he said urgently. “I will protect you.”

“I don’t need - there’s nothing wrong,” she said. Her eyes were on his face again, but she was edging slowly toward the door as she spoke, and Fenris forced himself to breathe through a sudden surge of adrenaline.

“It’s all right,” he said to Varania, as calmly as he could. “I know you’re not alone. Tell them to come inside.” He glanced over his shoulder at Hawke. “Go to the stockroom,” he muttered urgently. “Stay there until I tell you to come out.”

“No,” Hawke said.

He stiffened in surprise, then glared at her. “Go to the stockroom now,” he hissed.

She shook her head. Her face was pale but resolute. “No,” she insisted. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

Fenris stared at her in disbelief and not a little anger, then whipped around as the door to the Hanged Man opened once more.

A tall, grey-haired man in a sharp blazer and slacks stepped inside, and Fenris curled his lip in disgust. “Danarius,” he spat.

Behind him, he heard Hawke’s sharp intake of breath, and a fresh surge of anxiety further sharpened his nerves. She was so fucking stubborn, and so fucking vulnerable. In all the times Fenris had imagined this moment, all the times he’d dreamed about facing Danarius and handing him his death, he’d never imagined it would be like this.

He’d never imagined that he’d be caught so unprepared, with no weapons but the knife he always carried on his ankle. And he’d certainly never imagined that the two people he most cared about in the world would be here as well, and so terribly in danger.

Then, as though the situation wasn’t horrible enough already, Varania darted behind Danarius as though to protect herself from him.

Fenris stared at her. Disbelief roiled in his stomach, thrashing viciously with his rising temper until it finally spilled from his mouth. “You brought him here?” he barked.

Danarius laughed softly. “Now now, Fenris, don’t blame your sister,” he said. “At least one member of your family knows where their loyalty truly lies.”

Fenris ignored him and continued to glare at Varania. “You sold me out to the likes of him?” he shouted. “Do you have any idea what he has done? The murders and tortures he’s ordered and orchestrated? He is an abomination!”

“He took care of Mother and me when you gave up on us!” Varania retorted.

Fenris recoiled in shock. “Vishante kaffas,” he rasped. “Is that what he told you?”

“That’s what happened!” Varania yelled. Her youthful face was twisted with resentment. “You got addicted to lyrium, and you stopped caring about Mother and I, and then you went and killed all those people! Danarius kept us safe from you!”

Fenris gaped at her. This was… it was ludicrous. Absolute fucking madness. He’d only gotten addicted to lyrium after he thought she and his mother were dead.

His incredulous gaze slid back to Danarius’s satisfied face. This misunderstanding, this purposeful misdirection - it was all Danarius’s fault. “You festering, filthy sack of lies,” he hissed, and he took a furious step toward him.

“Fenris!” Hawke squeaked, and at the same moment, Danarius pulled a Glock from his belt.

Hawke gasped as Danarius leveled the pistol at Fenris’s face. “Come now, Fenris, you know your sister speaks the truth,” he said pleasantly. “You killed Hadriana and Eldren and Vitaris, and you took their money and their lyrium stock and you ran. And alas, here we are, right around the time when you would have run out of supplies.” He tilted his head. “It’s time to come home. Come and make amends for the wrongs you’ve done.”

Fenris snarled at Danarius’s lies. His tone was censorious, but his expression was so damned smug, and Fenris was seized by an all-consuming urge to tear that look off of his supercilious face.

“You’re so full of shit,” Hawke suddenly said.

Danarius’s aim didn’t falter, but his gaze darted briefly to Hawke. “And who, pray tell, are you?”

Fenris’s rage was dampened slightly with a fresh peak of fear. He did not want Hawke to garner Danarius’s attention.

“Hawke, stop,” he warned.

She ignored both him and Danarius’s question. “I bet it was you who got Fenris addicted to lyrium, wasn’t it?” she said. “It couldn’t just be the lyrium salve. That makes no sense. You did something to him while he was in the hospital, didn’t you?”

Her tone was bolshy and rude, and Fenris kept his attention fixed on Danarius’s gun and his face. Disrespect was one of Danarius’s greatest peeves and his greatest triggers; it made him angry, and anger made him careless, but it also made him more brutal. Carelessness was something that Fenris could take advantage of. Brutality, on the other hand…

Fenris slowly shifted toward Danarius as Hawke continued to talk. “Did you have some corrupt Vint doctors dump lyrium in his IV machine? Maybe mix it into his food? The liquid form is nearly tasteless, after all. I bet that’s exactly what you did. Sounds like the kind of thing the Imperium is notorious for.”

“Watch your mouth, my dear,” Danarius said softly. “You should be very careful who you speak to in this way.”

The gun was still on Fenris, but Danarius’s attention was fully on Hawke now. Fenris continued to ease his way forward, and from the corner of his eye, he watched as Hawke leaned her elbows casually on the bar.

“Oh, I know exactly who I’m talking to,” she drawled. “A man with a big fancy gun. You know what they say about men who carry guns.” She tilted her head. “Making up for deficits in… other areas.”

Venhedis, Fenris thought in desperation. That was going to be the last straw. Sure enough, Danarius’s face twisted with anger, and he shifted his aim from Fenris to Hawke -

Fenris lunged forward and shoved Danarius’s arm away from her, and three seconds later, Fenris had the pistol levelled at Danarius’s head.

Varania screamed and cowered against the wall, and Fenris swiftly shifted position until he was standing in front of Hawke. “On your fucking knees,” he growled at Danarius. “Right now.”

Behind him, he could hear Hawke gasping for breath - delayed panic, he suspected, though he didn’t dare turn around to confirm. He glared at Danarius. “Now,” he barked.

Danarius ignored him. His narrow face was wreathed in an unpleasant smile, and Fenris’s agitation thrummed at his former employer’s appearance of calm. “Use caution, Fenris,” he said softly. “You know I am not alone. If you kill me, what then? How will you escape? You only have so many bullets.”

He swallowed. Danarius wasn’t wrong. But he couldn’t bring himself to lower the weapon.

He stared at Danarius past the barrel of the gun. This was it - the moment Fenris had fantasized about for so long: Danarius, helpless and unarmed. With the simple squeeze of a trigger, he would be dead. Fenris could fight through a handful of Danarius’s guards; he’d done so before. And then Fenris would finally be free.

But this didn’t feel right. The vindication he thought he’d feel was completely lacking. Why did this freedom taste like ashes?

Then Hawke spoke. “Fenris, don’t,” she said. “You’re better than him. He’s the vile scumbag of a murderer in this scenario. Don’t be like him.”

Danarius’s eyebrows rose mockingly. “Is that what you think, my dear? Perhaps our little Fenris has not been completely honest with you about his past.”

Fenris curled his lip. His finger tightened on the trigger. “Shut your mouth, Danarius,” he snarled.

Hawke spoke again, and her voice was closer this time, as though she was leaning over the bar toward him. “Don’t listen to him. I know you, okay? And you don’t have to do this,” she said urgently. “Trust me. It’s really, really not necessary.”

Fenris frowned slightly. There was something pointed about her tone, some implication he wasn’t catching, but Hawke wasn’t finished talking.

“For me, Fenris,” she said desperately. “Please, please, for me, don’t do this.”

That clinched it. That was all she needed to say. After all, Fenris had already admitted it to himself, long before this rotten incident had begun: he would do anything for Hawke.

Including setting aside his long-coveted revenge.

He gritted his teeth in anger, then exhaled and lowered the gun. Varania slumped against the wall, and behind him, he heard Hawke release a little sigh of relief.

Then someone banged on the door of the Hanged Man, and everything seemed to happen at once.

From outside, a strong female voice announced the presence of the Kirkwall Police. Out of the corner of his eye, Fenris saw Hawke straightening up and moving to the side. The front door flew open, and a handful of police poured inside.

Danarius’s hand darted into the left side of his blazer, and Fenris’s gaze snapped back to find his face twisted with rage. Danarius pulled out a second gun, and his eyes - and his gun-wielding arm - drifted toward Hawke.

Fenris didn’t hesitate. He lifted his gun and pulled the trigger, and with a dull crack of bullet through bone, Danarius’s head snapped back.

Varania and Hawke screamed, and Danarius’s dead body hit the ground with a limp finality, and Fenris instantly dropped the gun and placed his hands behind his head. Seconds later, a red-haired female officer had him on his knees in handcuffs.

A dozen police officers were in the room, and half of them were guarding cuffed men and women who were likely Danarius’s associates. Varric was talking urgently to the red-haired officer, and overlaying all the noise and activity was Piper’s hysterical voice.

“Hawke! Fenedhis lasa, Maker’s fucking balls and Elgarnan’s crusty cock…” Piper was behind the bar with Hawke and a dark-haired male officer, and both of them were hugging Hawke so tightly that Fenris could barely see her head.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, seriously - Carv, you’re crushing my ribs, really…” Hawke finally managed to wiggle her way out of the mad tangle of limbs, and Fenris finally made eye contact with her.

Her eyes were huge and haunted, and her face was absolutely leached of blood. Fenris dropped his gaze to his knees. She couldn’t have known why he killed Danarius; there was so much happening in the pub. Hawke would think he was exacting his revenge, but he’d had no choice.  

Hawke would have died if he hadn’t acted. There was no choice.

A moment later, Hawke was standing beside him. “Aveline!” she gasped, and she hugged the red-haired officer. “Thank Andraste’s glorious tits. You have perfect timing, you know. But you can’t arrest Fenris, you can’t, this wasn’t his fault-”

“Hawke, don’t interfere,” Aveline said in a stern but gentle tone. “This gentleman has to come in to the station. There will be a full investigation, all right?” She patted Hawke’s shoulder maternally. “Now go on outside with the paramedics. Get yourself checked out. That other woman is already outside with them.”

Varania. Fenris lifted his face. “Is she harmed?” he demanded.

Aveline frowned slightly. “No. Do you know her?”

“Fenris isn’t talking without a lawyer present,” Hawke blurted. She dropped to her knees in front of him. “Don’t tell them anything,” she said urgently. “Cullen will fix this. He fixes everything. Piper already called him, he’s on his way now. Maker’s balls, are you okay?”

Her hands were on his face. Her fingers were trembling, and her face was still white as a sheet, but she was touching him, stroking his face as though he was the injured party - as though he hadn’t just shot someone right in front of her.

He swallowed the swelling lump in his throat. “I - yes, I’m-”

“Shh, don’t talk, don’t talk,” she said. She patted his cheeks, then lunged forward and hugged him hard, knocking Aveline’s hand away from his shoulder in the process.

“Hawke!” Aveline scolded.

Fenris breathed in the sandalwood scent of her hair. Then Aveline pulled Hawke away from him and hauled her to her feet. “Carver, get your sister out of here. Get the medics to check her out,” she snapped.

The dark-haired officer saluted smartly. “Ma’am,” he said, and he and Piper hurried around the bar to join Hawke.

Carver put his arm around Hawke’s shoulders. “Maker’s mercy, Rynne, the things you get yourself into…”

“Don’t you dare tell Mom about this,” Hawke threatened. Then she, Piper, and Carver disappeared outside.

Fenris exhaled and looked up at Aveline, who folded her arms. “I suppose you’re not going to talk until your counsel arrives?” she said archly.

He nodded politely. “That is correct. I’d like to wait, if I may.”

Aveline narrowed her eyes, then dropped her arms and nodded. “All right. Let’s get you into a car in the meantime.” She turned away briefly to give some orders to her officers.

Varric chuckled and folded his arms. “I’d feel sorry for her if I didn’t know how much she misses field work.”

Fenris glanced at him. Then something clicked into place. “You called the police?”

Varric nodded. “And Hawke hit the alarm button beneath the bar. Double warnings seem to be enough to make the police captain herself come running.” He patted Fenris’s shoulder. “They might charge you with murder, but don’t worry, you’ll get out on bail. We’ll speak up for you.”

Fenris studied him with rising confusion. He wasn’t sure why Varric was being so kind to him. He’d just shot a man in the middle of Varric’s pub, after all. “Why are you helping me?” he asked.

Varric smirked. “CCTV. This place may be a karaoke-hosting alcohol-serving dump, but it’s a damned secure one. I don’t take chances with you guys’ safety.” He tucked his hands in his pockets, and the look he gave Fenris was unequivocally approving. “Piper and I saw everything. We don’t record sound, so we didn’t hear much, but we didn’t need to. We know what would have happened if you hadn’t… acted so fast.” He squeezed Fenris’s shoulder once more. “I’ll give Cullen the footage right away. Trust me, you’ll be fine.”

Fenris stared at him. That inconvenient lump was in his throat again. “Varric…”

Varric chuckled. “Ah, don’t thank me yet. You might be up for a rough couple of weeks. Aveline is fair but very thorough.” He patted Fenris’s shoulder again, then pulled Fenris’s hood over his conspicuous hair. “Here. You might want that on.”

Fenris swallowed hard and silently nodded his thanks. Then Aveline was pulling him to his feet and leading him outside.

Sure enough, there was a rubbernecking crowd around the pub in addition to the handful of police cars and officers, and Fenris ducked his head, grateful for Varric’s forethought in pulling up his hood.

Aveline swiftly led him to a car, then helped him inside of it with brisk efficiency. “I’ll be back shortly,” she said, then she closed the door.

Fenris sat in the silence of the car and simply breathed. He wasn’t sure what to feel or what to think. Everything that had just happened was so completely unexpected.

Danarius is dead. That was the biggest conclusion of the day. After years of resentment and hate and being chased across Thedas, Fenris was finally free of his former employer’s clutches.

He should be happy. Elated, even. This was what he’d wanted for years, and even if it hadn’t happened quite the way he’d imagined, the deed was done, and Fenris was free.

But he didn’t feel different. He didn’t feel… good. And his disappointment about Varania was a huge part of it.

She’d been on Danarius’s side from the start; Fenris was certain of this. What he didn’t know was how long she’d been working for Danarius. It could have been for years. Maybe even since Fenris had been injured.

And this thought - that the betrayal could have been that old and longstanding - hurt enough to extinguish any satisfaction he might have felt from Danarius’s death.

The police car door opened, and Fenris looked up to see Aveline holding Varania’s arm.

Varania was in handcuffs, and her face looked like thunder. Aveline’s lips were pursed. “Hawke said this woman put you in danger,” Aveline said. “She’s coming to the precinct too.”

Fenris shifted along the seat to make room for Varania. Aveline gently pushed her into the car and scowled at them both. “Behave yourselves,” she said sternly. Then she shut the door and stepped away.

They sat in a horrible, awkward silence for a long minute, and Fenris studied his sister from the corner of his eye. Now that they were sitting in close quarters, he could see the tattoo on her neck: twining white lines that crept up the side of her throat. They were certainly more subtle than Fenris’s body-spanning tattoos, but there they were, clear as day.

Unable to help himself, Fenris spoke. “How long were you… in the business?” he said, quietly and carefully.

“Don’t judge me!” Varania burst out. “You were in it too. How else do you think I got the idea-”

“I am not judging,” Fenris said, as calmly as he could. “I am simply asking.”

Varania glared at him through the curtain of her dark red hair. “You don’t know what it was like when Mother was sick. You weren’t there. The bills and the care she needed, and even after she died-”

“Do you think I wanted to not be there?” Fenris demanded. “Varania, I didn’t know. I thought you were dead. I… fasta vass, Danarius told me you were dead! If I could have been there, I would have been! I would never have let you get roped into all of this.” He clenched his teeth and glared at her. “I would have given you and Mother everything.”

He watched the movement of her throat as she swallowed hard. She shook her head. “You’re stupid if you think you wanted to be there,” she said tremulously. “Only an idiot would want that. All the money Danarius gave me went straight back to the hospital.” She pressed her lips together hard, then glared at Fenris anew. “He gave me a raise, you know. More responsibility. I was making such good money, and he was letting me manage his dealers-”

“He was using you,” Fenris interrupted. “You were a pawn.”

Varania recoiled as though he’d slapped her. “And that makes you what?” she demanded. “The ultimate prize?”

Fenris frowned at her. “No. Of course not. I…” He trailed off, then dropped his gaze to his cuffed wrists. “I don’t know.”

The edge of Hawke’s red scarf was peeking out from under his sleeve, and Fenris stared at it in pensive silence. In truth, he didn’t know what Danarius had planned for him. Did Danarius simply want him back as an enforcer and assassin? Maybe he just wanted Fenris back so he could torture him slowly, or sell him to a rival gang for the pleasure of it. Fenris would never know.

He sighed, then looked at Varania again. “The organization will crumble without Danarius,” he told her. “You know how precious he was with his assets. You shouldn’t go back to Tevinter. Start a new life somewhere else.”

“I don’t want to start over,” Varania retorted. “I had a good thing going in Tevinter. I didn’t need your help.”

She sounded petulant and defensive, and so very much like his little sister that it made Fenris’s heart ache. He shrugged and looked out the window. “Fine. Do as you like. It is your life.”

They sat quietly for a long moment. Then Varania broke the silence. “Is that what you’ll do? Assuming your fancy lawyer gets you off?” she said quietly. “Just… start over?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.” In truth, Fenris had no idea what he would do now. He supposed he could testify against Danarius’s organization, but if he wanted to do that, he would have to return to Tevinter - something he’d sworn he would never do - and he would have to incriminate himself for all the things he’d done under Danarius’s orders, and he wasn’t that stupid or self-destructive. But he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told Hawke he didn’t have anything planned beyond Danarius’s death.

Disappearing and starting over could be nice. He was well-versed in the whole blasted process by now, after all. He could go to a new place and finally settle down. Make a new life for himself where no one had to know he’d ever been skilled in the wielding of weapons and the dealing of death.

But Fenris didn’t want to leave Kirkwall, and there was only one reason why. His eyes fell on his hands again, and on the precious scrap of red fabric that was wrapped around his wrist.

A sharp knock on the car door window made him jolt. He and Varania looked up, and Fenris raised his eyebrows in surprise.

It was Hawke. “I’ll meet you at the police station,” she yelled through the window. “Cullen’s headed there now. Don’t say anything to Aveline or any of them until you talk to Cullen, okay?”

A police officer came up behind her and chivvied her away, and Fenris could hear the muffled sound of Aveline’s scolding and Hawke’s cheerful retorts. Despite himself, he smirked.

Then Varania spoke again. “You’re lucky, you know,” she said matter-of-factly.

His smile fell away, and he looked at her in disbelief. “Lucky?” he demanded. “Danarius’s thugs almost killed me. They told me you were dead. They forced me to become addicted to lyrium!” He hadn’t been ignoring Hawke’s words in the Hanged Man, and he was certain now that she was right about the lyrium.

He glared at Varania. “How in the blasted Void can you say I am lucky?”

Her expression was twisted with bitterness. “You didn’t have to watch Mother dying slowly. You’ve travelled all around Thedas - I never even left Minrathous before this. And you have all these friends. Like her.” She jerked her chin in the direction that Hawke had gone. “Venhedis, I bet she would eat shit if you asked her to.”

His hackles instantly rose at the slur against Hawke. “Shut your mouth,” he snarled.  

Varania shot him a dirty look, then slumped down on the seat. “You think you’ve had it so bad. But from where I’m sitting, you got the better end of the deal.”

Fenris’s anger cooled as he studied her. She looked angry still, but… defeated, too. And now, without Danarius or any of his people to protect her, she was alone.

He nibbled the inside of his cheek and didn’t reply. Then the two front doors opened.

Aveline slid into the driver’s seat. She looked back at Fenris and Varania as her partner got into the passenger’s seat. “Remember, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” she warned.

Fenris nodded silently, then glanced at Varania. Her expression was belligerent, but her bright green eyes were wet. She shot him a quick, resentful look, then turned away from him and rested her head on the window.

Aveline started the car, and Fenris sighed heavily and leaned his head back on the seat in exhaustion. What the fuck am I going to do? he thought. There was just so much to think about. There was his own situation; would he be accused of murder? What exactly had Varric’s tapes recorded, and would that be enough to acquit him? Then there was Varania’s predicament, and Fenris’s ambivalence about her. And then, as always since the first week he’d set foot in Kirkwall, there was Hawke: Hawke, who’d begged him not to shoot Danarius, and who seemed to stand by him even though he’d done it anyway.

He rubbed his forehead with his cuffed hands. First things first, he reminded himself. He would talk to Cullen, and then he would have a better idea of what options he had.

And when he arrived at the police station, Hawke would be there.

At that thought, his shoulders loosened. Fenris closed his eyes. He remembered the feel of Hawke’s trembling fingers on his face, and her sandalwood scent in his lungs when she’d hugged him.

A minute later, lulled by peaceful thoughts of Hawke, the events of the past week finally caught up with him, and Fenris fell asleep.

[ellenembee]

The Revelation of All Things - 47. In which the prankster needs a favor

Read the full fic on AO3.

Read on Tumblr (desktop)

Sera giggled uncontrollably when Cullen and Quizzy both shouted her name in unison. Sera popped her head up and threw another handful of raisins at them both.

"What? It's not like you two are friggin' shy about it, are you? Inky's got a nice big bed. That's more comfy than a stone wall up your arse, innit."

Inky glared at her. "Sera, I'm going to kick your 'arse' all the way to the Western Approach and back!"

Sera giggled again at the two bright red faces glaring at her. "Catch me first!"

The Inquisitor had started running for her, so Sera slid down the stairs as fast as her roguish legs could take her. She heard the clatter of boots on the wooden stairs above, but Sera cackled again in triumph. She'd already reached the bottom of the tower. As she reached for the door, however, she felt a sudden smack in the arse with what felt like a block of ice. She turned to find her pants covered in ice. She shrieked, and then shook her fist at the elf glaring at her from the opening to the floor above.

"Why you little mage-y, elf-y...!! With your friggin' creepy magic shite! If you wasn't the Quizzy-"

"You'd what? Throw more raisins at me?" came a voice from above as Quizzy began moving for the stairs.

"Gah!"

Sera opened the door and turned to throw a lewd gesture as the Inquisitor appeared at the top of the final staircase. Not about to stick around to see what else Inky had up her sleeve, she ran across the battlements, through the next tower and down the stairs to the upper courtyard. When she reached the tavern door, she turned to look up at the battlements.

"Be prepared, Sera. This means war!"

Sera just laughed and pounded her chest with her fist. "Bring it!"

She saw the Inquisitor fighting to keep a smile off her face and only just succeeding before turning back the way she came. Sera put a hand to her backside and tried to rub her pants unfrozen.

"No use in this blasted cold weather. To the tavern!"

She spoke to no one in particular, and no one looked up. Everyone seemed used to her antics and habits now. She'd made quite a few people uncomfortable in the beginning, but the more she wandered amongst them, the more they ignored her. Deemed her harmless, she reckoned. Damn annoying. Have to do something about that. Gotta keep 'em on their toes.

Storming into the tavern, she yelled at Cabot for a drink. He yelled back to keep her pants on. She sniggered at the irony of the surly bartender's words, considering her predicament, as she looked around the tavern. The Iron Bull and his Chargers lounged in the corner with the fire, so she took her mug and plopped down on the hearth. Bull's laughter caught her ear.

"What happened to you, Buttercup?"

She scowled at him. "Nuthin'. Quizzy just couldn't take a joke."

Bull laughed even harder. "So she froze your ass? That's hot! ... Or cold in this case. But what did you do to rile her up?"

At his question, her face brightened and a crass giggle bubbled out of her lips. "Pelted 'em with raisins. Good for a laugh, too, right up to the arse freezing. Didn't know she could do a baby freeze. Little baby freeze, right in the bum."

"You were pelting her with raisins? Ass-freezing seems like a bit of an overreaction."

"Didn't say her, did I? Said 'them.' Her and her Cully-wully... Cullen-wullen? Dunno which name is better."

Bull's roar of laughter turned every head in the tavern. "You didn't! Ahhhhahahaha! What I wouldn't give to have seen their faces."

The Chargers had gathered around and were laughing, too. This is right good fun. Sera grinned and took a swig of her ale. Wiping her hand over her mouth, she leaned in as if imparting an important secret.

"Red. Red faces. And that disapproving look. You know the one."

Sera gave her best impersonation of Cullen's disapproving face in between gasps for air. Her crowd laughed even harder. Bull finally managed to draw enough breath to comment.

"So, now you've got a pissed Inquisitor and a pissed Commander to deal with."

Sera just shrugged. "Who gives a nug's arse? Got my raisins, don't I? If they wanna snog in front of the world, they get raisins."

A pause in the conversation allowed Sera to reach back and check her bum. It was mostly thawed at this point, but now dampness permeated her breeches. No good trying to change out of wet leather breeches. She should know. She resigned herself to a few more ales and the company of the chargers. Not a bad way to spend an evening, actually. Bull took a long swig of his ale before turning to Sera again.

"So, while I've got you here, I've been coming up with battle tactics for everyone. For you, I'm thinking the next time we're out and run into a line of enemies, I'll pick you up and throw you."

Sera scowled her displeasure at the idea. "Get off."

Bull waved his hands in front of him as if that could convince her his plan wasn't shite. "No! This could work! I loft you over the front rank, and you land behind them to flank ... mayhem ensues."

Sera shook her head in disgust. "I can't fly, you daft tit!"

Bull scooted a little closer to her his eyes shining with excitement. "But think of the mayhem, Sera. Mayhem!"

"Hmmmm... I'd get a wedge-up something fierce."

"Look, you and Varric are the only ones small enough, and he's... pretty dense."

"Well, do some bloody presses, then!"

"Come oooooon, Sera. Just think about it."

Sera shook her head vehemently. "Not on your life. I got enough to deal with... hey!" Sera's eyes widened, and then her face split into a wicked grin. "I bet Quizzy's light enough for your daft toss and flank game!"

"Yeah, but she's a mage, so it'd be a different kind of attack. Plus... Cullen."

"Pfffft, don't worry about tight-britches. Got a plan to get that stick out from up his arse." She laughed wickedly and several of the Chargers glanced nervously in her direction as she muttered under her breath, "Oh, yes. Bees. There will be bees."

"Juuust think about it, ok?"

Sera shot Bull a skeptical look. No way was she gonna to let that beast throw her anywhere.

"This how you plan to start that Qun rubbish where you try to convert me?"

Bull laughed again, this time for a long while. He finally wiped his eyes and took a drink. Looking up, he met her narrowed eyes.

"Uh, no."

"What's so funny?"

Bull shook his head. "You, uhh... you aren't really viddathari material."

"What's that mean? I can be a videe... vivi... one of those things. Bloody good one, too."

He just shook his head and turned to respond to one of his people. Sera pouted by the fire. Her pants were still wet, so she stayed planted and occasionally shot irritated glances at Bull. A few minutes later, she drained her mug of ale and waddled over for another mug. She waddled back to find her wet bum imprint in the hearth. Sitting down in a slightly different spot, she shot a death look at Bull, daring him to make a comment, and took a long swig of ale.

Bull sighed. "I'm just trying to give you more of the element of surprise. You're really good with your bow is all I'm saying. You lay down solid cover fire."

She pointed two fingers at her face. "Two eyes. Helps, yeah? I'd like to keep 'em. And my feet on the ground."

Bull raised his hands in defeat. "Alright. Fine. But I still think it would be a good idea."

"Shut it."

Bull snorted into his mug, and Sera stuck her tongue out at him before draining her second mug in one go. She felt a bit dryer now, and she only had to get up the stairs to her room. The walk up the stairs went slowly, and she could see the creepy spirit boy in his usual spot on the level above. She hurried to her room, closed the door firmly, and immediately changed into a dry set of breeches. Shuddering, she wondered briefly whether the thing had taken up residence in the tavern simply to torture her. It was creepy enough being surrounded by so many mages. Weirdo boy was just the icing on the cookie. And she hated cookies. Pie's where it's at.

But here, with the Inquisition, she could fight for the little people. Here, she could kill the baddies. Here, she could follow the sweet-faced, bit-too-elfy-but-still-alright Inquisitor - the one who gave Sera pies for following her into dank holes.

"Mmmm... piiiiie," she breathed as she pulled a blanket around her.

She flopped on her cushioned window seat that also served as her bed and let out a huge sigh. The newest correspondence from the other Red Jennies sat on the table - a "gift" from Leliana. She reached for the stack and flipped through a few before stopping on a particular note.

"Shitefuckingbloodyhellbastardarseholes!"

Cole suddenly appeared before her, and she let out a piercing shriek before screaming, "What fucking fuck are you doing in here!? Don't come near me, weirdie! Get out! Get oooooout!"

"Ask the Inquisitor for help. She'll help."

"I swear on Andraste's tits, if you don't get out of here-"

The spirit left as suddenly as it had appeared, and suddenly Sera looked around, confused. What just happened? Was someone just talking to her? Doing a whole body shake, Sera looked back at the note. The anger boiling near the surface, the anger she remembered overflowing a few moments ago, seemed contained now with a thought.

She'd ask Quizzy to help her get back at these piss-head nobles - fat-heads as Quizzy called them - who were making life miserable for the little people. Inky cared about the little people. Sera had seen that as they went through towns and villages helping the less fortunate.

"She'll be coming 'round for a 'visit' soon enough. She'll wanna give me a proper set down for the raisins. Then, I'll ask her to march Cully-Wully's troops through the city and scare those ass wipes into good behavior."

With her plan in place, Sera settled more comfortably on her cushions and began responding to the notes as she waited for the Inquisitor to arrive. At dusk, she heard an elfy knock on her door.

"It's open, yeah?" Sure enough, her Inky-ness walked through the door. Sera popped up and started in immediately. "So, sorry for interrupting you and your Cullen-Wullen. Your Cully-Wully? Still working on the pet name. I get it, though. Lots of men under him. Needs a woman over him. Because... positions."

The Inquisitor's face turned bright red. "Sera! We're not... I mean, we haven't..." She let out a frustrated huff. "If you're so concerned with our... relationship, the best thing you can do is leave us alone. We get precious little time together as it is."

"Haven't done the deed, yet? Well, well! Have to see what we can do to loosen up ser tight-britches. Lady in your shoes needs a little release - or a big one if you know what I mean?"

The Inquisitor had turned increasingly bright shades of red throughout Sera's speech. She finally held up a hand.

"Sera, please. Do not try to... loosen up the Commander. He is fine. I'm fine. And no more raisins."

Sera drew an X with her finger over her heart. "I swear on Andraste's holy underpants."

"You're crossing your fingers behind your back, aren't you?"

"No. Maybe. Yeah. But hey, I have an 'Inquisitor favor' to ask. Just a little thing, really. A little march-around for some of your people. It's nothing for you, right?"

"Seriously? You're asking me for a favor after you interrupted... you pelted me with dried fruit not an hour ago?"

"Yeah? What of it? You two weren't doin' nothing anyway. Just standin' there."

The nonplussed look on Inky's face was rich. "I... don't even..." She closed her eyes and sighed, a look of defeat passing over her face. "Alright. Let's hear what you've got."

"Knew you'd cave. It's a Red Jenny thing. I got a tip that some noble stiffs are arguing over Verchiel. Land squabble. They're gettin' little people beat up, so I need you to go to your big table and send some people to walk through town."

Inky narrowed her eyes. "Just walk through?"

"Yeah, just walk through. Easy, right?"

"Who's asking for this?"

Sera let her frustration show in her voice a bit. "I'm asking, because I heard people complaining - I got a note from normal angry people sick of being in the middle. See, when nobles fight, it's not them. It's their little people stuck in the middle. It's like a polite war, so no one pays attention. But if you march through, the people up top feel threatened, too. Stuff like this is always happening. Good sovereigns to be made if you're one of the few who notice."

Evana nodded. "I'm with you, but I need to justify this to the advisors, too... that sending troops is worth Cu- the Commander's time. What's in this for the Inquisition?"

"Well, nobles think everyone is out to get them, so when your helmets march through, both sides'll think the other's your ally. Both get scared. Both make deals. Worst case, you get a little bump among the people just because they see you active. Can't promise anything, but something will happen. Just like always."

"Alright, Sera. I'll have someone look into it."

Sera giggled. "It's fun, right? Being important without doing a thing? Well, not much of a thing. Not everything has to be torn skies and ancient arseholes. Every little thing makes a difference somewhere."

Sera saw the Inquisitor try - and fail - to hold back a grin. "Yes... well, the little things are certainly important. We can't lose sight of them-"

"Or we get too big for our breeches!"

"Something like that, yes."

Sera gave the Inquisitor a sly look, but only said, "Right, well, something else you wanted to talk about?"

"No, no. That's all for now. I'm sure I'll have more information for you in a few days. Good evening, Sera."

"Night, Inky."

Not bad for an elfy elf. Sera plopped back down on her bed and grabbed some other letters. Answering letters was not her idea of a great evening, but she needed more information on a problem Varric was having. She wanted to get to it before he could. Her friends were better than his dwarf mercenaries any day. And Quizzy was taking care of the little people. All was right in the...

"Aw, shite!"

Sera flew off her bed and ran back down the stairs.

"Hey, big guy!"

Bull, who was now several mugs further into his evening, looked up with a wide eye. She gave him a wicked grin. "You're not throwing piss, but I could ride on your shoulders, yeah? You run and hit, I shoot."

Bull rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. You standing or sitting?"

She gave him a disbelieving look. "Pfffft. Sit on your own horns. I stand."

"Right, sorry. So we'd be like a mobile siege platform." Bull grunted and then nodded. "Yeah... This could work."

Sera felt her stomach growl and looked over to the bar. "Or! Wait! No! Better idea! Ice cream... in beer!"

Bull laughed. "Uh, sure. That's... not at all the same thing. But alright."

"It's probably shite. It'll be great!"

"I'm in. You're buying the first round, though."

"Shut it! Ok. Be right back!"

She scurried off to buy the first of what would be several rounds of beer and ice cream. It turned out to not be as shite as she'd thought, especially ice cream paired with Cabot's supply of dark, Fereldan beer.

And if she ended up on the roof puking over the edge all night, no one needed to know it. They could all just piss off.

[gold3nberry]

I Remember Our First Kiss

@gugle1980 I’m so, so sorry for the delay! I hope you like this and thank you very much for this sweet prompt!

Cullen Rutherford X Demetra Trevelyan Post Trespasser A touch of angst, a lot of fluff, arm loss mention

“I remember our first kiss. It was around this time of the year, if I’m right.” Cullen murmurs sleepy, one arm limply resting around her waist, the other tucked under the pillow they’re sharing. Demetra looks at him - her husband - sniffing slightly, a bit shocked he remembers such a tiny detail after the giant mess of the last days in Orlais “Do you?”. She hasn’t expected that answer, when she has asked him what he was thinking about.  “Yes.” he replies, cracking an eye open to kiss away a tear from her cheek. She feels guitly, she knows he needs to sleep. Cassandra has told her he refused to move when she was unconscious, after their return. And she has been knocked out by the painkillers for a full day at least.  “I bet you didn’t expect to end up with a woman who can’t even botton up her shirt alone.” her voice cracks despite her efforts. Fully awake, he puts his hand on her cheek, and she basks in the feeling despite the lump in her throat. It has always been in that way, He can soothe her pain just showing her that he cares. Such a terrible and wonderful power.  She feels guilty crying for her lost hand when she has feared for her life, for not having a chance to truly build a life with her husband. At a certain point, travelling through the Eluvians, she has realized there was a big possibility she wasn’t going to see him again. So, a hand for a life is a good price, after all. But she feels stupid, so stupid, because the more she tries to be optimistic, the more she notes there are tons of things she has always done without realizing that are simpler with two hands.  Demetra presses her face on his neck, sobbing loudly. For her hand, for the tension accumulated when the world started to see her as an unwanted figure, for what Solas confessed and wants to do, for the Inquisition, whose time is over, for her friends who are going to leave her. She cries for all these thing and others too, past and present mixed confusely in front of her. Too changes, too fast. Again. She remembers everything, since the very beginning. Ostwick, with its white palaces and the air which smells of salt and water. A lovely place, but a younger her carved for more. Haven, and its scent of the fires and the ale in Flissa’s tavern, and her confusion to be all in a sudden a Herlad and a heretic. Skyhold, with its majestic halls and mighty walls, were she has found peace and safety for a bit. And all the other places she has visited, all the people she has met. In the furious carousel of memories and colors, her husband’s voice is quiet but clear “I didn’t expect to marry you, if I have to be honest.” Cullen confesses, caressing her back with gentle and slow circular movements. His words calms her inner turmoil, his voice stronger than the confusion of tangled feelings in her heart. Cullen continues, chuckling “I mean, I was sure you were going to leave after I commented the weather, that day on the ramparts!” Her laughs takes her by surprise. Cullen holds her a little tighter “I swear, I was so sure I messed up everything!” “I... I found it bewitching, actually.” she admits quietly, arching her neck to look at him. And his eyes make her feel breathless. There’s everything she needs: love, affection, trust. Not an inch of pity or fear or anything less than good. Cullen kisses gently her fingers “Thank the Maker you have a poor taste about flirting!” “And dancing!” she replies, a hint of mirth in her hoarse voice. He chuckled again, encouraging her to continue “At least, you never asked me if I took chastity vows! That was awkward!”. His laughter this time is stronger and, incredibly, his cheeks turn a bit pink “How did we get there?” “I wanted to speak to you, but you intimidated me and my brain refused to cooperate!” ”Oh, did I?” he arches an eyebrow, and she punches him lightly “Don’t be smug, Commander Sunshine. It’s your fault if I acted like an idiot around you!” He kisses her quickly “I did the same. All the time. Do you know that Varric and Bull had a bet about us?” “The one about if we truly had sex or not on your desk all the night?” “What?!” he almost jumps. “Ah, uh... nothing, I’ll tell you another time!” “Did they...?! Those two truly have no shame!” he grumbles “Well, the bet I was aware of, was about how long me and you would take before confesses our feelings to each other.” “Oh, that’s kind of... gentle, for their standards. Who did win?” “Cassandra.” This time she is the one who is shocked “No way! Cassandra would never...” Demetra pauses a moment. Her best friend has a great sense of honor and a greater sense of privacy, but her love for romances probably is even bigger. And it’s quite an innocent bet, after all. Cullen smirks “Bull told me she knew you were going to come to my office that afternoon because you... apparently, you...” a laugh escapes from his lips. Demetra groans “Because she chaught me trying my speech for you, right? I knew she had heard me, I knew it!” “I’m curious. Since my brilliant, meteorological start probably wasn’t what you expected...” this time is her turn to giggle “what did you plan to tell me?” “I...ah, basically my speech was along the line “I know you can have much more better choice than me, but would you be willing to give it a try, pretty please?””. He caresses her cheek, carefully avoiding one fresh bruise near her nose, and she shakes her head before he can protest on her choice of words “I wouldn’t expect you actually kissing me very romantically like in one of Cass’ books! When you started to remind me about my role and the war... Maker, here we go, I told myself, he’s going to kindly reject me and I’ll have to find a place where hiding with my shame. I’m glad I was wrong.” she chuckles, a bit embarassed. He smiles back, gently lowering his head to kiss her properly, gently, carefully. He’ll give her time, she knows it, time to heal and figure out how to settle in her new life. In their new life, she corrects quietly herself. He touches her forehead with his, inhaling slowly “It’s going to be alright, wife.” “I know. I trust us, husband.” she whispers. Tomorrow, it’ll be a difficult day. But for tonight, she can rest in the safest place for her in all Thedas.

[writerpieceofshit]

All I wanted was to be by myself...

Dragon Age: Inquisition

A bit of brainstorming, arguments and I hate-my-dad attitude. Is a bit long, but anything to exercise the mind! Also, I don't have a name for her yet. 

Warnings? None.

Everyone today woke up in good spirits, especially Varric. After a long journey with the Templars and dealing with red lyrium, he could rest easy, have a couple of drinks and talk about his stories. That was what I enjoyed most about him, after the terrible ordeal with red lyrium, his brother and the Templars consuming it, Varric was stressed for months trying to give me exact locations of red lyrium. And we did it, we found most of them and just a couple of them left, and we were done with it.

But as for me, I was exhausted.

---

Opening her eyes in the morning, the Inquisitor sat on the side of her bed contemplating a bit if getting out of bed would be a good idea or not. Today they were celebrating. Today was a day of celebrations, feast and a possible encounter with her favorite person, but she wasn't in the mood and all she wanted was sleep. Walking towards her balcony, she was watching the beauty of the land that surrounded her and how blessed and thankful she was to the gods. Skyhold was a gift for her and her people and she was grateful, but also hoping that she could be done with this.

Spending her time in her bedroom moping around and reading several reports that Josephine sent, most of them were related to judging the others, and it was something that the Inquisitor wasn't in the mood to do since today was a celebrating day.

'Maybe another day...' she whispered lazily.

People were walking around and the Inquisitor could see them. The cheerful music that could be heard in her chambers could be a little deafening. But she laughed softly. Seeing Iron Bull chat with several girls, Krem being also sociable with the ladies, Sera sitting beside her window, she noticed the Inquisitor, waved to her to which the Inquisitor responded to a nod and then walked back, into her hiding.

She slowly walked to her bed and jumped on her stomach, hiding in the pillows. She had her family on her mind, maybe they came as well to celebrate her victory? Nay, this was a celebration for Varric since he was the one that used his time, money and energy tracking the lyrium. The Inquisitor didn't want to take Varric's spot.

Her door was knocked several times, to which she shrugged and ignored. The 'deafening' music would make a good excuse since all she wanted was to be alone.

Again several knocks.

Hoping for it to go away, the Inquisitor waited... and waited and the knocks continued. She kept waiting, the knocks kept going. This went for five to ten minutes till she gave up, barefoot and wearing her sleeping clothes, slowly going down the stairs and opened the door as slow as she could, pretending to be asleep, unknown of the events outside.

A young elf was at the door, being nervous and looking humiliated. The Inquisitor hated it, hated it when people were mistreated.

'Don't.' the Inquisitor spoke softly, touching the woman's face softly 'I know I'm not supposed to touch you, but don't be scared, I'm not going to hurt you.' 'I'm sorry, my lady...' the woman replied softly 'but your father, Lord Bann Trevelyan has arrived. Lady Cassandra wanted me to give you the news since they are entertaining your father.'

The Inquisitor closed her eyes and opened the door widely and told the elf to come inside to which she obeyed without questions. Slowly, they both climbed the stairs, the elf was mesmerized with the room, the books and everything around that couldn't help it but smile and she noticed.

'What's your name?' asked the Inquisitor 'Lina.' the elf replied softly 'Lina, Inquisitor.' 'You like books, Lina?' 'Oh, yes.' she replied, showing a bit of happiness, but then sighed softly and shook her head 'I'm sorry, I never saw so many books before and uh... I don't have permission to read since I'm always on my errands.' 'I see.' The Inquisitor nodded 'may I ask, was my father with someone else?' 'Yes, Inquisitor.' Lina nodded 'Madam Lucille was with him. They were excited to see you.' 'If I give you several books and let you sneak here at night to read, are you valiant enough to tell Lady Cassandra that I am nowhere to be found?' 'If is an order...' 'Is a question, Lina. You're not forced to do it.' 'I can try.' 'Then I shall wait if your plan goes well.'

The elf left the room in a good mood and a smile on her face. Again, she moved to her bed and covered herself whole, her eyes on the window where she could see the sky, slowly turning into a sunset.

----

'Seriously?!'

My heart was racing from the sudden shout in my room to the point of hurting. I felt that it was going to get out of my chest. I sat on my bed looking confused and still the sunset was there, probably a couple of minutes went by.

'I expected better from you, Inquisitor.'

I sighed softly and shrugged, hiding under my covers. Cassandra was in a foul mood and... no. Just no.

'Why are you ignoring me?'

Cassandra ripped the covers from my face, which made me groan and whine. I sat on my bed and stared at her.

'Is a sin that I want a day to spend by myself? Alone? In the comfort of my room where I rarely sleep?'

Cassandra frowned.

'Hey, I may be the Inquisitor but I'm also human. I need me time... so... can I go back to sleep?' 'No, you can't.' Cassandra sighed heavily placing her hands on her waist 'I'm sorry, but you got visitors and you have duties.' 'I don't care and no, I don't.' I groaned 'give them some of my wines and sent them off.' 'Is your family!' 'I don't care!'

I hissed softly and Cassandra was staring at me with concern. Of course, I cared, I just didn't want them to see me caring. My father was a busy man, my aunt as well... everyone was busy and suddenly they had time for me. They never did, so I didn't have time either.

'I told you once about my parents and I don't feel like talking to my father, to be honest.' 'I would consider it.' Cassandra sighed softly 'they came here after a long trip from home, so... I think a hello or something can ease you both to talk about your adventures or something.'

I couldn't help it but look that she was still wearing her armor... I needed to run away from this subject.

'Why are you still wearing your armor? Is a feast, get comfy. Take it off!' 'I'm... sorry?' 'Take it off.' I demanded 'take off that armor, I need to see you without it so I can give you a proper attire. Take it off.' I got out of bed and walked towards her. 'No!' she got defensive 'I'm not taking my armor off. What if we are under attack? Stop it.'

I felt my body get all floppy and tired. I walked back to bed and jumped on it, opening my arms and stretching my legs, trying to get comfy.

'Cullen is also looking for you.' Cassandra said softly 'what should I tell him?' 'Whatever you want. You can tell him that I'm nowhere to be seen or anything. I don't know. I don't want to be disturbed.'

---

Commander Cullen Rutherford paced back and forth in the halls with a small cup of wine in his hand. He was wearing his normal attire for a feast and not his armor and it caught the attention of women and also men. He also could hear people whispering behind his back saying that he and the Inquisitor had a thing. He wasn't going to deny it but the gossip was something he didn't have time for.

Cassandra and Cullen locked eyes and she tried her best to avoid him but Cullen followed her. Cassandra kept going till she reached Sola's room and it was empty, She began to walk in circles till Cullen arrived. Confused, he shrugged and walked towards her. Cassandra was frustrated, walked past Cullen and closed the door behind him slowly and quietly.

'What are you doing?' Cullen whispered 'where is the Inquisitor?' 'I don't know.' Cassandra shrugged. 'Is she safe?' 'Yes, she is safe.' Cassandra sighed 'she doesn't want to be bothered at all.'

Cullen stared at Cassandra with concern and confusion.

'Where is she?' 'That I can't tell you.' 'Please.'

Cassandra took a big deep breath and shrugged.

'Well considering the relationship that you both have, she's in her chambers. Door's open, by the way.'

---

The soft and cold breeze was hitting my face as I would sit on the ground to contemplate the sky. Slowly it was getting dark, the stars were starting to glow and I kept asking myself why I didn't take a moment to enjoy this. So quiet and relaxing... I don't remember the last time doing this.

One of the books that rested in my lap was 'Sword and Shields' that Cassandra loaned me and it was covered in a red handkerchief. I knew that Cassandra was embarrassed by it and it was rather interesting. If Varric knew that I was reading such thing, he would never let go of it.

'What are you doing?'

I felt my heart skip roughly as I stood up and hid the book on my back and slowly slide it under my shirt and my pants to hold it. Cullen was staring at me with a worried look on his face and crossing his arms.

'I was looking up the sky?' 'And reading romance?' 'No.' I shook my head 'I was just...' I rubbed my hands together 'thinking.' 'Right.' Cullen smiled a bit 'can we talk?'

I nodded and gestured him to sit on the couch that was beside the stairs as I tried to remove the book and slide it somewhere he didn't notice but he kept his smile, not saying a word, just watching me and smiling like he always did.

'You know, I don't mind if you read books of any kind. Is better than seeing you play hide-n-seek with Sera.' 'That was one time.' 'And pranks.' 'Also one time.'

Cullen laughed softly and I sat on the bed, crossing my legs.

'Did you came here to lecture me?' 'No.' he shook his head slowly 'I came here to see how you doing.' 'I'm fine.'

Cullen nodded and stood up walking towards me and sitting beside me as I moved to be a bit closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder.

'I'm aware that you know that your family came and they are going to stay in the guest room.' 'Yep.' 'They were told that you had something to do, last minute.' 'Oh?' 'Yeah. Thank Sera.' 'Ah.' I nodded 'I'm going to spend the whole night here till tomorrow morning, if that's is fine. You can stay if you want... I'm waiting till everything is over to get myself some food...' 'I don't mind staying, but come down with us for a little time, please?' 'I'll consider it.' I nodded fast. 'Well, that's reassuring. I'll wait for you then.'

---

Silence surrounded the hall as people began to whisper softly and bow. Cassandra left out a relieved sigh, following a smile, Varric lifted his cup and Cullen smiled. The rest were nowhere to be seen. The Inquisitor bowed. Varric walked towards the Inquisitor.

'Your holiness.' he laughed 'I was hoping when you were joining the party. Have a seat, let's eat.'

The Inquisitor shook her head.

'I was hoping if we could go and play like old times. You know.' she looked up at Cullen.

'Ah!' Varric laughed softly 'I know what you mean. We can wait till everyone is gone and play.' 'Sounds like a good idea.'

Cassandra walked towards the Inquisitor and leaned towards her, whispering.

'Your father is insisting that Josephine takes him to the war room. Is this okay?'

The Inquisitor looked at Cassandra like she was angry. Walking towards the room, she seemed to suddenly storm and opened the door, noticing Josephine doing her best of keeping him busy.

'Inquisitor!' Josephine called, a bit shocked 'I was showing Lord Trevelyan the rooms.' 'Of course.' The Inquisitor replied dryly. 'Can you leave us, Josie?' 'Of course, excuse me.'

When the Inquisitor and Lord Trevelyan were left alone in the room, the man walked towards his daughter, examining her. She laughed softly, crossed her arms and shook her head in disapproval.

'Father, I'm not sure if I'm happy to see you or not.'

The man laughed.

'Me either.' he cleared his throat 'Josie? That's how you call those who work under you? Silly, small nicknames?' 'She's my friend.' the Inquisitor cleared her throat 'what brings you to Skyhold?'

Her father walked over Josephine desk and began to move his eyes everywhere, almost ready to touch it.

'Don't you dare.' The Inquisitor spoke softly but also angrily, her father stopping mid-air 'don't touch what is not yours.'

The man chuckled and took a couple of steps back placing his hands together in front of his lap and walked towards the inquisitor. She watched him and crossed her arms as a sign of authority, which her father stopped walking and made a disgusted expression towards her.

'You lost communication with all of us. Never wrote a letter, never did a thing. What's wrong with you? I am your father.'

The Inquisitor chuckled.

'I know.' 'Then?' 'I'm busy. The same busy you were when I was a child, you encouraged me to be busy. I am busy, father.' the Inquisitor shrugged 'I also have some matters to attend. I can get your room arranged.' 'It was a long way from home to have this short conversation.' 'Yeah, and?' she sighed softly 'I knew this was going to happen, this is why I told Josie to never write that letter.' 'She didn't write me a letter.' he took a couple of steps towards the Inquisitor, almost on her face 'we heard stories of your deeds, how much of a grand and beautiful woman you were, a Templar. Do you even know what a Templar is?' 'Of course. Get some rest, will ya?'

---

From the distance, I could hear the voices singing, the lively and happy music and the people clapping. I could see people kissing in the corners, young men, and women drunk and saying their sweets nothings to each other. All I could feel was anger. Cassandra was nowhere to be seen, Iron Bull either. Krem was with a girl, who shyly pressed her lips on her. A small feel of happiness brushed over me but again, I was angry. The moon was shining beautifully and I could see the rift yet. It wasn't over, my hand was silent and everything seemed to be normal.

I could see Dorian in the distance with a soldier. Sera was on the roof beside her window room reading a book, everyone was busy in their on way, I sat down on the ground, looking at the moon and nobody could see me. I could fall asleep here and nobody would care. Well, Cullen would care, but having my father around, he was probably busy thinking how to impress him, and I honestly didn't care at all. All I wanted was to be alone.

----

'Inquisitor?'

Opening her eyes, Cullen was kneeling in front of her with a worried look. The Inquisitor laughed softly and touched his face as he grabbed her hand, giving a soft, relaxing smile. She sat down on the ground, which she apparently fell asleep watching the stars and the moon, it was midnight, the moon was top of her and she couldn't help it but look at it again and get lost... in the full moon that made her eyes glow. Cullen couldn't help but stare at her in silence. He muttered softly as she snapped from her trance and looked at him.

'Is everyone gone?' 'No.' Cullen shook his head 'but your father is looking for you.' 'What does he want?' she asked with disgust. 'He needs to talk to you. He was... unfamiliar about us being together.' 'Dammit, Cullen.' she fussed 'the last thing I wanted was him giving me crap for being with somebody. He already shamed me for being a Templar.' 'I'll be with you when we talk to him. I promise.' 'Do we have to go now?' 'He's waiting...'

---