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peopleofthedas2011-05-02 07:18 pm
solitae) wrote in peopleofthedas2011-05-02 07:18 pm
The Thing with Feathers, Ch. 5 (DA2 fic)
Title: The Thing with Feathers, Chapter 5
Characters: Lilian Hawke (mage), Fenris, Anders, Varric, Isabela, Merrill
Rating: T
Word Count: 3000
Summary: "I want everyone in Thedas to have a chance to hear our version of it. This is just the beginning. Mages will be free." - Lilian Hawke. It may have started in Kirkwall, but now the revolution spreads with Hawke and Anders at the center.
Much thanks todrakontion for the hard work as a beta.
In Chapter 5: Fenris vs. Lilian. The gang makes it to Hernicia. Also, the war will apparently have lights and music.
Note: I blame this chapter entirely onlokapala. Last time I commented that I didn't know how much Fenris we would get, and now Fenris demanded a chapter from his POV. Lilian and Varric both refused to cooperate. So, Fenris! Enjoy!
Fenris hung back from the railing as they neared Hernicia in the late afternoon, silently watching the sailors and Hawke. None of the sailors had even dared approach her since he had taken his proper role guarding her. It was all to the good.
His eyes slid back to her, and his hand clenched. She looked so damned content ... happy with her head tilted back to drink in the sun. Nothing of her earlier fear or anger even lingered with her now, those emotions gone as quickly as the storm. It made his teeth grit, knowing just how she had shed those emotions.
He hated listening, hated hearing the delighted gasps and cries that spilled from Hawke, hated the low murmur of Isabela's voice that never carried clearly, hated ...but no, he had made his choice; Hawke had never forgiven him. Fenris knew he should have left the deck entirely when Isabela gave him that look, but a debt kept him there...as it had in the years since he had made that choice. Somehow, that debt seemed only to grow as the years went by.
He had heard them often enough since Hawke had fallen into the pirate's arms, the pair slipping into back alleys or pressing against trees or wherever the mood struck them without thought for the danger they exposed themselves to. He had even waited outside the Hanged Man the first night Hawke had stumbled into Isabela's quarters, intending to see her home safely when their "exertions" ended. Dawn had risen without Hawke, and he had left struck with the realization that she had actually stayed the night.
Fenris shook his head to break free of the thoughts and focused on Hawke near the rail once more, just in time to see Anders, along with Merrill and Varric, join her. Hawke beamed widely at them, and he nearly growled when she welcomed the healer with an achingly sweet kiss. Fenris could almost feel the way her fingers brushed the strands of blond from his face, and his teeth clenched again.
How was he supposed to protect her from that? He knew what Anders was, what he could do; but so did Hawke, and still she treated him like a friend, like something safe, and apparently now even welcomed him to... His eyes squeezed shut against the scene and the swiftly rising frustration with their damned leader.
Hawke's voice chimed as she spoke to the others, and he caught a few of the words: "epic poem" standing out. Varric's rumbling laugh provided a deep counterpoint, and the elf watched her grin persuasively at the dwarf while Anders shifted uncomfortably, Hawke's arm about his waist preventing escape.
Realization struck Fenris like a fist, her speech flashing in his mind again and now a need for a poem that Anders wasn't precisely comfortable with. No. No. No.
Suddenly, they were all staring at Fenris. Had he spoken aloud? Hawke's eyes had that stubborn look in them again, and they pinned to his face. "Something wrong, Fenris?" she asked in that infuriatingly casual way she had.
He tried. He really tried to bite his tongue, but the memory of Anders wreathed in flame while the crowd howled was too recent and her eyes were too infused with a challenge. Something cold and dark twisted in the pit of his stomach, slithering up his spine, whispering in his thoughts, seething until it simply snapped inside him. He glared between Hawke and the healer, Varric and Merrill forgotten as a furious snarl erupted from him. "How can you do that? How can you stand up there and cast him as a hero?" He pointed at Anders, and the mage just regarded him coolly, trying unsuccessfully to hide the guilt in his eyes.
Hawke's eyebrow quirked upward curiously, and she laughed. The bloody woman laughed. "He is a hero," she retorted calmly. Her chin lifted, and Fenris knew he had started it.
Anders, at least, had the grace to look embarrassed. "Lilian-"
Hawke just ignored the healer and took a small step toward Fenris. Their eyes locked, and she spoke, enunciating her words carefully so he wouldn't miss a single inflection. "He has more courage than you've ever had."
And Fenris hated that most of all. How she could tear him down with just a few words. How she could make him doubt himself. How she could make him feel utterly the coward. Fury blazed through him, and he growled. "You know nothing-"
"And neither do you!" She snapped back, all pretense at calm shattering. "Oh, wait, except for flashes. That you're too frightened to even explore."
"Well, isn't this awkward," muttered Varric behind her to the other two.
"I am not afraid," hissed Fenris, his hands balling into fists. Maker be damned, he never understood how Hawke could get under his skin so easily. He didn't want to snarl at her, but here he was, his heart pounding and anger that he couldn't escape rolling in waves through him.
Hawke snorted and shot him a disbelieving look. "Right! You're all glowy because you want to give me a hug!"
Varric, damn him, stifled a surprised laugh, while Merrill stared on horrified, and Anders...well, the sodding abomination looked irritatingly protective.
Fenris said nothing, trying to push away the fury that his body was reacting to so obviously.
"You're the same, you know," Hawke stated plainly, and he felt her eyes weighing his reaction while Anders stared at her in disbelief.
"We are nothing-" rumbled Fenris.
"Yes." Hawke cut him off ruthlessly. "You both want to be free. Have you ever bothered to ask Anders what happened to him in the Circle? Have you ever bothered to wonder why he needed to accept Justice's help?" Her voice surged louder with each question, the mage spitting them out so quickly and furiously that he had no chance to answer. "Or do you just look at him and assume because he's a mage that he deserves every terrible thing that's happened to him? That he wanted to invite a spirit in?" She paused for a breath, daring him to so much as nod. When he didn't, she jabbed his chest hard anyway. "But he had the courage to break free!"
No proper words would form, and Fenris felt himself seething, the shimmer around him pulsing dangerously. That voice that had risen nearly shrilly dropped now into a low enraged whisper. "And you hate him for that." He never looked away from Hawke, his lips curled in a feral snarl. But she pressed on, her words rhythmic and forceful, Hawke as always too proud to be afraid of him. "You go on and on about how mages turn to blood magic or demons when backed into a corner, but what about you, Fenris? Didn't you fight with everything available to you when Danarius was hunting you? Even lure innocents into a trap? You're no better-"
"You are hardly innocent!" He growled, finally managing to break into her rant.
"And you're deliberately missing the point!" Hawke's voice rose in protest, nearly yelling over him.
Fenris drew a breath, narrowing his eyes at her as he tried to force his voice calm."Anders started a war. He-"
"I know what he did, Fenris." Impatience laced Hawke's words. "I was there."
"Standing right here you know," muttered Anders, but Fenris and Hawke both ignored him.
"Hawke! He's an abomination!" Sometimes he just wanted to shake her, and his frustration echoed in his speech. "He is-"
"No!" Hawke's voice snapped, harsh and loud. "He is not an abomination, no more than you are or I am. He..." she pointed "...is trying to free mages. Trying to keep me free. Some things are worth fighting wars over!"
"Hawke, mages are dang-"
"Do you think I don't deserve to be free?" Hawke hissed, and he stood his ground when she stalked so close to the elf that their noses nearly touched. He could feel the her breath on his skin, the tingle of her rising magic making his tattoos itch. "People," her voice dipped into a steely whisper close to his mouth, "do terrible things, with or without magic."
Around her hands, a dangerous purple black aura wavered, hints of ice blue crackling through it, and he fought viciously to keep from shoving her away. "Do you think because I support mages, because I am a mage, I deserve to be locked up?" Hawke's eyes searched his hard, her voice as intense as her gaze. "Just because I might become a demon that I should lose everything?" Though her voice was quiet, he felt it in his bones, vibrating and insistent. "That they have the right to make me Tranquil if they choose?"
And that was it, what it always came down to with her. The one thing that terrified her, the one thing she had made them all promise solemnly to kill her if it happened. The idea of her flat-eyed and resigned made Fenris sick, not Hawke, not Lilian. If that came to be, he had failed somehow, his debt unpaid.
Anger began to ebb with his efforts and her words, that blaze of colour across her cheeks and her wide hurt eyes forcing his fury down. He never meant to hurt her, but it still happened... all the time. "You know that's not what I meant, Hawke," Fenris tried to soften his voice, but it still came out roughly.
"It certainly sounded like it," she spat at him. Shaking her head, she turned away to expel her building magic over the water, and Anders laid a protective arm around her trembling shoulders. The healer shot him a sharp glare; Fenris couldn't help baring his teeth at him.
"We have to do this, Fenris," Hawke's voice was gentler now but still thick with emotion. "Anders and I. We can't turn back. I don't want to turn back," she swallowed, "but you can..."
"No, Hawke," he broke in quickly, scowling at her. "I can't."
Her doubtful eyes lingered on his face, but she apparently saw something that convinced her. Hawke gave a small brusque nod before sinking back into Anders who seemed far too happy to wrap his arms around her.
Fenris kept his distance as the buildings on shore grew from tiny smudges to proper stone structures. He had little interest in them. His attention focused mainly on the crew, ensuring that none came too close to Hawke and her pet abomination as the sailors worked to bring the ship into port. Isabela caught his eye once, and gave him awarning look. Clearly someone had heard the earlier argument.
He sighed and focused on the city irritably as it came into view, searching for threats. It was a dirty place, smaller than Kirkwall, and he noted the lack of templars on the docks. There were few guards to be seen too; and while there were people about, the city seemed hushed, waiting.
No doubt word of Kirkwall had reached them, but how much more? Fenris scanned the shore, but no one seemed particularly interested in the ship. All to the good if they were to spend a few days there as he suspected. As the crew secured the ship, Hawke beckoned to him along with the others scattered across the deck. Fenris joined the party going ashore, stationing himself directly behind Hawke's shoulder despite Anders's intention of taking that spot.
The two shared a glare as they disembarked, but otherwise reached the square one of the a dockworker had directed them to without incident. Fenris doubted he would be able to say the same for the rest of the night. Already Hawke was slinging balls of light into the air with abandon as Anders and Merrill watched her nervously.
"Come on, you two. We can't have it dark here. How will people-"
"Do you really think it's wise to announce our presence, Hawke?" Aveline sounded as exasperated as he felt, and he shot their wild mage a questioning look.
She just grinned at them both. "Subtlety has never been my strength."
Isabela snorted and winked at her, and Fenris shook his head. On the other side of the square, two sailors were taking out pipes and a hand drum. Apparently, the war would have lights and music. If Hawke wanted to draw attention to them, she was succeeding, and there was little Fenris could do other than slip close to her shoulder.
"You're hovering," she muttered at him.
"You're trying to get yourself killed," he growled back. She just shrugged, and the elf gritted his teeth at the gleeful display of magic. The globes they had raised bathed the area in warm light, and she looked smug as she noticed some of the townspeople starting to trickle in toward the square.
"If you want to help, you could glow too," she teased, laughing when he glared at her. "You would look more festive then." Before he could jump back, she planted a kiss on his nose then wandered off to help the abomination lay out his healing supplies on a blanket. Irritably, the elf rubbed his nose and followed after her.
It was a surreal atmosphere, the soothing light, the pleasant strains of music beginning to rise, and all of it under a thick layer of magic. It made his skin crawl, and he was filled with certainty that this would not end well for any of them.
Hawke had gotten away from him again, and he scowled when he saw she had slipped outside the ring of light to talk to a few of the gathered folk. Fenris stalked over to her, resisting the urge to drag her back by her pigtails.
When he got close though, he saw Varric standing next to the man Hawke was speaking to, both of them looking worriedly at a whimpering child in townsman's arms. Hawke's voice was pitched low and soothing, earnestly promising the man that he needed no coin. They were just there to help.
"Demon!" The cry came from a ruddy haired woman running toward the square, her glower fixed firmly on Hawke. The woman's hand flew, and a rotten fish head splattered against Hawke's shoulder, bits of fish spraying on to Fenris's face. Ignoring the stench and disgusting mess, he reached for his sword, and Varric reached for Bianca, but Hawke raised a hand to stop them.
Calmly, she wiped at her shoulder and stared at their attacker. "I am not the demon here, mistress. I have seen demons." Hawke's eyes widened as she spoke in a low firm voice, and Fenris knew she was unaware of just how fierce his glare was behind her.
It was Fenris the woman looked at, blanching, not Hawke, and he snarled silently at her.
"We are here only to offer healing and news. To serve," Hawke continued earnestly, speaking to all those close enough to hear. "You would not injure your neighbor's son, would you, mistress?"
The woman stared at her with cold-eyed fury, but said nothing. Hawke moved her appeal to the others who were less comfortable, and some of them she even shamed into looking away.
"The Maker will judge you, mage," spat another voice, but Hawke merely smiled.
"He will judge us all," the mage countered smoothly. Too smoothly, by Fenris's experience. She held tight until she cracked, but for now her voice was lilting as she quoted the Chant:
"Those who steal from their brothers and sisters
Do harm to their livelihood and to their peace of mind.
Our Maker sees this with a heavy heart."
The scowls on a few faces deepened with that, but a good number eased as well, and there were even a couple of relieved expressions as she invited them in to the light.
Still, she could never convince everyone, and as Varric began making people comfortable, Fenris stood behind Hawke. They both watched a large handful of doubters disappear down the street.
"They'll be back," he murmured. "And it won't just be them."
"I know," she answered quietly. "Keep a sharp eye. We'll have company soon." The momentary pressure of her hand on his arm was as close as she got to an apology or appreciation with him these days, and he didn't pull away. As she turned to join Anders, she met Fenris's eyes briefly, and he could see the weight of all she was doing in her gaze before she buried it beneath her usual twinkle.
For a time, Anders and Hawke were able to heal the sick and injured brought to the square, more turning up as the evening grew late. They answered questions about Kirkwall, and he heard Hawke telling compelling stories about the abuses the mages faced there. She always picked an individual mage that she knew of and spoke regretfully of tranquility and mistreatment, how the Templars in Kirkwall were going against Chantry Law, how no one had intervened.
This was not the rabble-rouser of Ostwick, but a worried woman who didn't want this to happen to her friends and neighbors. As she began to speak of Meredith's madness, Fenris caught the glint of armor down one of the streets
"Hawke..." he warned. She turned toward the direction he looked. Fewer than a dozen templars were bearing down on them led by a woman in Chantry robes and backed by a goodly number of townsfolk.
The Revered Mother's voice rang out over the music, "Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him."
Hawke just looked amused. "All I see here is magic serving man, Revered Mother," she challenged with a knowing smile as she rose, her chin up.
And it began, again. Fenris pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead...Festis bei umo canavarum.
Characters: Lilian Hawke (mage), Fenris, Anders, Varric, Isabela, Merrill
Rating: T
Word Count: 3000
Summary: "I want everyone in Thedas to have a chance to hear our version of it. This is just the beginning. Mages will be free." - Lilian Hawke. It may have started in Kirkwall, but now the revolution spreads with Hawke and Anders at the center.
Much thanks to
drakontion for the hard work as a beta. In Chapter 5: Fenris vs. Lilian. The gang makes it to Hernicia. Also, the war will apparently have lights and music.
Note: I blame this chapter entirely on
lokapala. Last time I commented that I didn't know how much Fenris we would get, and now Fenris demanded a chapter from his POV. Lilian and Varric both refused to cooperate. So, Fenris! Enjoy!Fenris hung back from the railing as they neared Hernicia in the late afternoon, silently watching the sailors and Hawke. None of the sailors had even dared approach her since he had taken his proper role guarding her. It was all to the good.
His eyes slid back to her, and his hand clenched. She looked so damned content ... happy with her head tilted back to drink in the sun. Nothing of her earlier fear or anger even lingered with her now, those emotions gone as quickly as the storm. It made his teeth grit, knowing just how she had shed those emotions.
He hated listening, hated hearing the delighted gasps and cries that spilled from Hawke, hated the low murmur of Isabela's voice that never carried clearly, hated ...but no, he had made his choice; Hawke had never forgiven him. Fenris knew he should have left the deck entirely when Isabela gave him that look, but a debt kept him there...as it had in the years since he had made that choice. Somehow, that debt seemed only to grow as the years went by.
He had heard them often enough since Hawke had fallen into the pirate's arms, the pair slipping into back alleys or pressing against trees or wherever the mood struck them without thought for the danger they exposed themselves to. He had even waited outside the Hanged Man the first night Hawke had stumbled into Isabela's quarters, intending to see her home safely when their "exertions" ended. Dawn had risen without Hawke, and he had left struck with the realization that she had actually stayed the night.
Fenris shook his head to break free of the thoughts and focused on Hawke near the rail once more, just in time to see Anders, along with Merrill and Varric, join her. Hawke beamed widely at them, and he nearly growled when she welcomed the healer with an achingly sweet kiss. Fenris could almost feel the way her fingers brushed the strands of blond from his face, and his teeth clenched again.
How was he supposed to protect her from that? He knew what Anders was, what he could do; but so did Hawke, and still she treated him like a friend, like something safe, and apparently now even welcomed him to... His eyes squeezed shut against the scene and the swiftly rising frustration with their damned leader.
Hawke's voice chimed as she spoke to the others, and he caught a few of the words: "epic poem" standing out. Varric's rumbling laugh provided a deep counterpoint, and the elf watched her grin persuasively at the dwarf while Anders shifted uncomfortably, Hawke's arm about his waist preventing escape.
Realization struck Fenris like a fist, her speech flashing in his mind again and now a need for a poem that Anders wasn't precisely comfortable with. No. No. No.
Suddenly, they were all staring at Fenris. Had he spoken aloud? Hawke's eyes had that stubborn look in them again, and they pinned to his face. "Something wrong, Fenris?" she asked in that infuriatingly casual way she had.
He tried. He really tried to bite his tongue, but the memory of Anders wreathed in flame while the crowd howled was too recent and her eyes were too infused with a challenge. Something cold and dark twisted in the pit of his stomach, slithering up his spine, whispering in his thoughts, seething until it simply snapped inside him. He glared between Hawke and the healer, Varric and Merrill forgotten as a furious snarl erupted from him. "How can you do that? How can you stand up there and cast him as a hero?" He pointed at Anders, and the mage just regarded him coolly, trying unsuccessfully to hide the guilt in his eyes.
Hawke's eyebrow quirked upward curiously, and she laughed. The bloody woman laughed. "He is a hero," she retorted calmly. Her chin lifted, and Fenris knew he had started it.
Anders, at least, had the grace to look embarrassed. "Lilian-"
Hawke just ignored the healer and took a small step toward Fenris. Their eyes locked, and she spoke, enunciating her words carefully so he wouldn't miss a single inflection. "He has more courage than you've ever had."
And Fenris hated that most of all. How she could tear him down with just a few words. How she could make him doubt himself. How she could make him feel utterly the coward. Fury blazed through him, and he growled. "You know nothing-"
"And neither do you!" She snapped back, all pretense at calm shattering. "Oh, wait, except for flashes. That you're too frightened to even explore."
"Well, isn't this awkward," muttered Varric behind her to the other two.
"I am not afraid," hissed Fenris, his hands balling into fists. Maker be damned, he never understood how Hawke could get under his skin so easily. He didn't want to snarl at her, but here he was, his heart pounding and anger that he couldn't escape rolling in waves through him.
Hawke snorted and shot him a disbelieving look. "Right! You're all glowy because you want to give me a hug!"
Varric, damn him, stifled a surprised laugh, while Merrill stared on horrified, and Anders...well, the sodding abomination looked irritatingly protective.
Fenris said nothing, trying to push away the fury that his body was reacting to so obviously.
"You're the same, you know," Hawke stated plainly, and he felt her eyes weighing his reaction while Anders stared at her in disbelief.
"We are nothing-" rumbled Fenris.
"Yes." Hawke cut him off ruthlessly. "You both want to be free. Have you ever bothered to ask Anders what happened to him in the Circle? Have you ever bothered to wonder why he needed to accept Justice's help?" Her voice surged louder with each question, the mage spitting them out so quickly and furiously that he had no chance to answer. "Or do you just look at him and assume because he's a mage that he deserves every terrible thing that's happened to him? That he wanted to invite a spirit in?" She paused for a breath, daring him to so much as nod. When he didn't, she jabbed his chest hard anyway. "But he had the courage to break free!"
No proper words would form, and Fenris felt himself seething, the shimmer around him pulsing dangerously. That voice that had risen nearly shrilly dropped now into a low enraged whisper. "And you hate him for that." He never looked away from Hawke, his lips curled in a feral snarl. But she pressed on, her words rhythmic and forceful, Hawke as always too proud to be afraid of him. "You go on and on about how mages turn to blood magic or demons when backed into a corner, but what about you, Fenris? Didn't you fight with everything available to you when Danarius was hunting you? Even lure innocents into a trap? You're no better-"
"You are hardly innocent!" He growled, finally managing to break into her rant.
"And you're deliberately missing the point!" Hawke's voice rose in protest, nearly yelling over him.
Fenris drew a breath, narrowing his eyes at her as he tried to force his voice calm."Anders started a war. He-"
"I know what he did, Fenris." Impatience laced Hawke's words. "I was there."
"Standing right here you know," muttered Anders, but Fenris and Hawke both ignored him.
"Hawke! He's an abomination!" Sometimes he just wanted to shake her, and his frustration echoed in his speech. "He is-"
"No!" Hawke's voice snapped, harsh and loud. "He is not an abomination, no more than you are or I am. He..." she pointed "...is trying to free mages. Trying to keep me free. Some things are worth fighting wars over!"
"Hawke, mages are dang-"
"Do you think I don't deserve to be free?" Hawke hissed, and he stood his ground when she stalked so close to the elf that their noses nearly touched. He could feel the her breath on his skin, the tingle of her rising magic making his tattoos itch. "People," her voice dipped into a steely whisper close to his mouth, "do terrible things, with or without magic."
Around her hands, a dangerous purple black aura wavered, hints of ice blue crackling through it, and he fought viciously to keep from shoving her away. "Do you think because I support mages, because I am a mage, I deserve to be locked up?" Hawke's eyes searched his hard, her voice as intense as her gaze. "Just because I might become a demon that I should lose everything?" Though her voice was quiet, he felt it in his bones, vibrating and insistent. "That they have the right to make me Tranquil if they choose?"
And that was it, what it always came down to with her. The one thing that terrified her, the one thing she had made them all promise solemnly to kill her if it happened. The idea of her flat-eyed and resigned made Fenris sick, not Hawke, not Lilian. If that came to be, he had failed somehow, his debt unpaid.
Anger began to ebb with his efforts and her words, that blaze of colour across her cheeks and her wide hurt eyes forcing his fury down. He never meant to hurt her, but it still happened... all the time. "You know that's not what I meant, Hawke," Fenris tried to soften his voice, but it still came out roughly.
"It certainly sounded like it," she spat at him. Shaking her head, she turned away to expel her building magic over the water, and Anders laid a protective arm around her trembling shoulders. The healer shot him a sharp glare; Fenris couldn't help baring his teeth at him.
"We have to do this, Fenris," Hawke's voice was gentler now but still thick with emotion. "Anders and I. We can't turn back. I don't want to turn back," she swallowed, "but you can..."
"No, Hawke," he broke in quickly, scowling at her. "I can't."
Her doubtful eyes lingered on his face, but she apparently saw something that convinced her. Hawke gave a small brusque nod before sinking back into Anders who seemed far too happy to wrap his arms around her.
Fenris kept his distance as the buildings on shore grew from tiny smudges to proper stone structures. He had little interest in them. His attention focused mainly on the crew, ensuring that none came too close to Hawke and her pet abomination as the sailors worked to bring the ship into port. Isabela caught his eye once, and gave him awarning look. Clearly someone had heard the earlier argument.
He sighed and focused on the city irritably as it came into view, searching for threats. It was a dirty place, smaller than Kirkwall, and he noted the lack of templars on the docks. There were few guards to be seen too; and while there were people about, the city seemed hushed, waiting.
No doubt word of Kirkwall had reached them, but how much more? Fenris scanned the shore, but no one seemed particularly interested in the ship. All to the good if they were to spend a few days there as he suspected. As the crew secured the ship, Hawke beckoned to him along with the others scattered across the deck. Fenris joined the party going ashore, stationing himself directly behind Hawke's shoulder despite Anders's intention of taking that spot.
The two shared a glare as they disembarked, but otherwise reached the square one of the a dockworker had directed them to without incident. Fenris doubted he would be able to say the same for the rest of the night. Already Hawke was slinging balls of light into the air with abandon as Anders and Merrill watched her nervously.
"Come on, you two. We can't have it dark here. How will people-"
"Do you really think it's wise to announce our presence, Hawke?" Aveline sounded as exasperated as he felt, and he shot their wild mage a questioning look.
She just grinned at them both. "Subtlety has never been my strength."
Isabela snorted and winked at her, and Fenris shook his head. On the other side of the square, two sailors were taking out pipes and a hand drum. Apparently, the war would have lights and music. If Hawke wanted to draw attention to them, she was succeeding, and there was little Fenris could do other than slip close to her shoulder.
"You're hovering," she muttered at him.
"You're trying to get yourself killed," he growled back. She just shrugged, and the elf gritted his teeth at the gleeful display of magic. The globes they had raised bathed the area in warm light, and she looked smug as she noticed some of the townspeople starting to trickle in toward the square.
"If you want to help, you could glow too," she teased, laughing when he glared at her. "You would look more festive then." Before he could jump back, she planted a kiss on his nose then wandered off to help the abomination lay out his healing supplies on a blanket. Irritably, the elf rubbed his nose and followed after her.
It was a surreal atmosphere, the soothing light, the pleasant strains of music beginning to rise, and all of it under a thick layer of magic. It made his skin crawl, and he was filled with certainty that this would not end well for any of them.
Hawke had gotten away from him again, and he scowled when he saw she had slipped outside the ring of light to talk to a few of the gathered folk. Fenris stalked over to her, resisting the urge to drag her back by her pigtails.
When he got close though, he saw Varric standing next to the man Hawke was speaking to, both of them looking worriedly at a whimpering child in townsman's arms. Hawke's voice was pitched low and soothing, earnestly promising the man that he needed no coin. They were just there to help.
"Demon!" The cry came from a ruddy haired woman running toward the square, her glower fixed firmly on Hawke. The woman's hand flew, and a rotten fish head splattered against Hawke's shoulder, bits of fish spraying on to Fenris's face. Ignoring the stench and disgusting mess, he reached for his sword, and Varric reached for Bianca, but Hawke raised a hand to stop them.
Calmly, she wiped at her shoulder and stared at their attacker. "I am not the demon here, mistress. I have seen demons." Hawke's eyes widened as she spoke in a low firm voice, and Fenris knew she was unaware of just how fierce his glare was behind her.
It was Fenris the woman looked at, blanching, not Hawke, and he snarled silently at her.
"We are here only to offer healing and news. To serve," Hawke continued earnestly, speaking to all those close enough to hear. "You would not injure your neighbor's son, would you, mistress?"
The woman stared at her with cold-eyed fury, but said nothing. Hawke moved her appeal to the others who were less comfortable, and some of them she even shamed into looking away.
"The Maker will judge you, mage," spat another voice, but Hawke merely smiled.
"He will judge us all," the mage countered smoothly. Too smoothly, by Fenris's experience. She held tight until she cracked, but for now her voice was lilting as she quoted the Chant:
"Those who steal from their brothers and sisters
Do harm to their livelihood and to their peace of mind.
Our Maker sees this with a heavy heart."
The scowls on a few faces deepened with that, but a good number eased as well, and there were even a couple of relieved expressions as she invited them in to the light.
Still, she could never convince everyone, and as Varric began making people comfortable, Fenris stood behind Hawke. They both watched a large handful of doubters disappear down the street.
"They'll be back," he murmured. "And it won't just be them."
"I know," she answered quietly. "Keep a sharp eye. We'll have company soon." The momentary pressure of her hand on his arm was as close as she got to an apology or appreciation with him these days, and he didn't pull away. As she turned to join Anders, she met Fenris's eyes briefly, and he could see the weight of all she was doing in her gaze before she buried it beneath her usual twinkle.
For a time, Anders and Hawke were able to heal the sick and injured brought to the square, more turning up as the evening grew late. They answered questions about Kirkwall, and he heard Hawke telling compelling stories about the abuses the mages faced there. She always picked an individual mage that she knew of and spoke regretfully of tranquility and mistreatment, how the Templars in Kirkwall were going against Chantry Law, how no one had intervened.
This was not the rabble-rouser of Ostwick, but a worried woman who didn't want this to happen to her friends and neighbors. As she began to speak of Meredith's madness, Fenris caught the glint of armor down one of the streets
"Hawke..." he warned. She turned toward the direction he looked. Fewer than a dozen templars were bearing down on them led by a woman in Chantry robes and backed by a goodly number of townsfolk.
The Revered Mother's voice rang out over the music, "Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him."
Hawke just looked amused. "All I see here is magic serving man, Revered Mother," she challenged with a knowing smile as she rose, her chin up.
And it began, again. Fenris pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead...Festis bei umo canavarum.
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Also... ooh, Chantry Confrontation. WOOT.
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And yes, confrontation! Hopefully from Lilian's perspective if she cooperates :D
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