A note from Neve that comes with our Dragon Age Day gift (Hawke's cosmetics)
"ANOTHER SURPRISE GIFT
Another chest washed up in the Lighthouse.
Not sure whether it's just luck, or if we've got a friend out in the Fade who wants to help.
-Neve"
"a friend out in the fade".......................... 👁️👄👁️
Here, have my Blight Novel! It's old, and drafty, but once it picks up it really becomes something special to me. (No, it did not take me two months to write! That's just from when I first added it to AO3! I actually started the November before.)
Dearest Pika! If it pleases you, for DA day writing prompts: party banter between Fenris and Merril (maybe they, *gasp*, actually agreed on something?!)
Fenris? And Merrill? AGREE? CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. 😎😉
Pikapeppa's Dragon Age Day drabbles, prompt fill #3:
Fenris and Merrill agreeing about something. With a cameo from the ever-ridiculous Rynne Hawke! 😂 ~2600 words.
*********************
Fenris was slowly reading a book at his dining table when he heard a knock at the mansion door.
He looked up from his book in surprise. He was expecting Hawke and the others in about twenty minutes, certainly, but it wasn’t like Hawke to come this early. She showed up on time for him and was notoriously late for everyone else, but never was she early.
A little suspicious now, Fenris rose from the table and padded over to the door. When he opened it a crack, he was very surprised by his visitor.
“Hello!” Merrill said.
He frowned and opened the door a hair wider. “Why are you here?” he said.
Her eyes widened. “Oh no, did Hawke and the others leave already? Were you waiting just for me? I meant to be on time, but I spotted the strangest caterpillar along the way—”
Fenris held up a hand to stop her before she could get going on one of her odd tales. “Hawke and the others haven’t yet arrived,” he said. “They aren’t due for another twenty minutes. You’re early.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Early? Creators, that’s a relief! I thought I was an hour late. May I come inside, then?”
Fenris wilted slightly, but he had no good reason to say no. He had a reason, of course: namely, that he didn’t want to try and hold a conversation with Merrill for twenty minutes. But Hawke had recently asked him — with much flirting and joking, of course — to try to find some common ground with Merrill, and for Hawke’s sake, he’d reluctantly agreed.
He stepped back to let her in. “Come in.”
“Ma serannas!” she said brightly, and she slipped inside.
Resigned, he followed her as she traipsed over to the table. She peered at the book that he was reading, then looked up with wide eyes. “Storms of Temptation? Isn’t this a smutty book?”
Fenris raised his eyebrows. “Is it? I wasn’t aware.”
Merrill tittered. “I suppose you’re only on page fifteen, so you wouldn’t know yet.”
He frowned. “I… no, nothing smutty has yet happened. Isabela didn’t…” He trailed off before he could even finish the thought.
He huffed and rubbed his forehead. “Of course it’s a smutty book. I borrowed it from Isabela.”
“Well, a book is still a book,” Merrill said brightly. “It’s still excellent practice. And maybe you can get some ideas from this book to spice things up with Hawke!”
Fenris balked at this. “Ideas to…? What makes you think that Hawke and I require inspiration to spice things up?” he demanded. He was a little bit worried now. Had Hawke told Merrill that she wanted to spice things up in the bedroom? No, Hawke wouldn’t do that; she knew that Fenris preferred to keep the details of their sex life as private as possible. But then why did Merrill think their sex life needed spicing up?
“I don’t think that,” Merrill said. “Why, do you need inspiration to spice things up? Because Isabela was telling me about this one trick—”
“No,” Fenris said loudly. “I don’t want to hear about any of Isabela’s tricks. Hawke and I are — we don’t need your help.”
Merrill’s eyes went wide once more. “I wasn’t offering to help. I just thought maybe this book—”
“We don’t need the help of this book, either,” Fenris snapped, and he shut the book. “We’re doing perfectly well with our own imaginations to sustain us.”
Merrill perked up. “That’s good! Good for you.”
He grunted and sat at the table. A moment later, Merrill sat beside him. “So, when you say you and Hawke use your imaginations—”
Fenris interrupted her. “I am not discussing this with you.”
She tutted and sat back in her chair. “All right, no need to get fussy. I’m only asking because you brought it up.”
“I didn’t — you started questioning my… my sexual prowess with Hawke!” he said defensively.
“I wasn’t questioning your — I wasn’t questioning that!” she said. “I was just wondering what kinds of things you imagine together! For example, when I’m bored, I like to imagine what it would be like to be a different animal.”
He stared at her. He must have heard her wrong. “A… different animal?”
“Yes,” she said. “Like a nug, maybe. Did you know that dark caves are their natural habitat? They live everywhere now, but dark caves are their favourite.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “I think you would be a good nug, since you like living in this dark mansion.”
He stared at her, uncertain if she was serious or taking the piss. “I don’t like living in the dark.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You don’t? Then why do you keep the windows filthy so no light can come in?”
“Because I don’t want to clean this house,” he retorted. He had never been inclined to clean this mansion ever since he’d taken residence in it. It was the former home of a magister, and even if it was Fenris’s house now for all intents and purposes, he hated the idea of cleaning a house that had once belonged to a filthy Tevinter mage.
Merrill tilted her head. “I could clean it for you.”
“No, thank you,” he said through gritted teeth.
She gave him a chiding look and leaned her elbow on the table. “Fenris, you know that living in dirty places can make you sick, don’t you?”
“I know that,” he said testily. “I don’t need your nagging. Besides, who are you to talk about living in dirty places? You Dalish literally live in the dirt and grass.”
She pursed her lips. “Forest dirt is not the same as being dirty. And I don’t like it when you talk about my people so unkindly.”
“I don’t like it when you pick on me for not wanting to slave on my hands and knees to clean this damned house!” he snapped.
Her face went slack with dismay. “Oh. But — Fenris, that’s not what I—”
“Enough,” he said roughly. “I don’t wish to speak further of this.”
To his surprise, Merrill actually stopped talking. She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, and Fenris folded his arms and stared sullenly at the opposite wall. As the awkward silence ticked on, however, he began to feel not only awkward, but guilty.
Hawke had asked him to make an effort with Merrill, and in the space of just a few minutes, he’d ended up jumping down her throat. He genuinely didn’t mean for this to happen every time he spoke to Merrill. It was just… there was something about the way she spoke to him or treated him that made him feel defensive, like she was pitying him for not being Dalish or for being a slave, and he hated the thought that someone like Merrill pitied him. She was a blood mage, for the Maker’s sake. She could turn into an abomination at any moment, so who was she to pity him?
No, he told himself. Do not start thinking about that now. He forced himself to push away the thoughts of Merrill’s blood magic and focused instead on thoughts of Hawke: her broad and loving smile, the sparkle in her honey-amber eyes, the way she’d batted her eyelashes at him and petted his chest as she asked him to try to make a bit of an effort to meet Merrill halfway…
He sighed. Fine, he thought grumpily. I will try.
He cast around for an innocuous topic of conversation — something completely neutral that couldn’t devolve into a discussion of magic or politics or the social standing of elves. Finally, at last, he lit upon a topic.
“So,” he said slowly. “Are you a cat person or a dog person?”
Merrill sat forward. “Pardon? What do you mean?”
He shrugged a little bad-temperedly. “You know what I mean. Do you prefer cats or dogs?”
“Oh! I — well, I like them both for different reasons,” she said earnestly. “Cats are clever and sneaky, but they can also be very friendly sometimes. And dogs are — well, they bark a lot and sometimes they try to nip my ankles, but they’re also very friendly sometimes. I don’t think I could pick one or the other.”
This didn’t entirely surprise him, but the conversation was neutral and they weren’t arguing, so he might as well continue it. “Most people have a strong preference for one over the other.”
“Like Anders, you mean?” she said drolly. “I think everyone in Kirkwall knows that he prefers cats, even though he’s a dog person.”
Fenris huffed. “Yes, like…” He frowned at her. “Wait. What do you mean, he’s a dog person?”
She shrugged. “You know, he’s a dog person. He’s a person who’s more like a dog than a cat.”
Fenris frowned. “What are you talking about? He is not more like a dog.”
“Of course he is!” Merrill said. “He’s friendly to most people — not you and me, of course, but to other people — and he’s extremely loyal to Hawke. That’s why he’s a dog person.”
Fenris pursed his lips. He didn’t like being reminded of Anders’ ongoing unrequited love for Hawke. “That’s not typically what people mean when they talk about being cat people or dog people.”
She tilted her head. “Isn’t it? What do they usually mean?”
Fenris shrugged. “It simply refers to whether a person prefers cats or dogs.”
She blinked at him. Then she frowned. “I don’t think that’s right.”
He eyed her in bemusement. “It’s not a matter of right or wrong. It is simply a fact.”
“I disagree,” Merrill declared. “I think that it should mean whether a person is more like a dog or a cat.”
Fenris was genuinely nonplussed that this conversation was becoming at all a matter of disagreement. “Well, it does, in some ways,” he said blankly. “Your choice of cats or dogs usually reflects on some traits of your personality.”
“Not for Anders,” Merrill insisted. “He’s definitely a dog person even though he prefers cats. And you’re a cat person even though you prefer dogs.”
“I — what?” Fenris protested. “I am not a cat person.”
She chuckled. “Of course you are! You’re prickly and aloof with most people. And you hiss and scratch anyone who touches you unless it’s Hawke.”
“That’s unfair,” he protested.
“Is it, though?” she said shrewdly.
He scowled at her, then exhaled and scratched the back of his neck. “I suppose you’re not… entirely incorrect.”
“See?” Merrill said. “You’re a cat person even though you prefer dogs.”
Fenris grunted, but he could see her point. Then he gave her a suspicious look. “How do you know I prefer dogs? I didn’t say that I did.”
“You didn’t have to,” Merrill said. “You ignore cats when we’re walking around in Kirkwall, but you love Toby.”
Fenris relaxed at the mention of Hawke’s mabari. “Yes, that’s true. I am very fond of Toby. But he is just one mabari. That doesn’t mean I am fond of all dogs.”
“One dog is enough,” Merrill said. “Especially if it’s Toby. He’s the smartest mabari I’ve ever met!”
Fenris smiled faintly. “He is an extremely intelligent animal.”
“He really is!” Merrill exclaimed. “You know that one trick he can do where he stands up and takes a few steps on his back feet like a person?”
Fenris chuckled. “Of course. Hawke is very proud of that trick.”
“She should be,” Merrill said. “Toby learned how to do that in a single day!”
Fenris raised his eyebrows. “He did? That’s impressive.”
Merrill giggled and nodded, and Fenris unfolded his arms. “Do you know the history of the mabari?”
Her eyes widened. “No! Will you tell me?”
Fenris nodded. “The breed originated in Tevinter. The magisters bred them, in fact. It’s said that the mabari defected during the Imperium’s invasion of Ferelden.” He shrugged. “Merely a tale, but I rather like the idea that they found barbarians more palatable than the mages.”
Merrill rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh Fenris, of course you would. What about Fereldan mages like Hawke, then? Wouldn’t the mabari have been confused about them?”
Fenris shook his head. “Mabari are too intelligent. They know how to distinguish evil mages from those who are good.”
Merrill propped her chin on her fists. “So you do think that mages can be good? Other than Hawke, I mean?”
He gave her a wry look. “This was going well. Don’t spoil it.”
Merrill chuckled. Then there was rap at the door. A moment later, Hawke stepped inside with Varric and Sebastian in her wake.
“Good morning, beautiful people!” she announced. “Ooh, this is cozy. Are we interrupting a very important discussion?” She bounced over to the table and seated herself in Fenris’s lap, then draped her arms around his neck. “What are my two favourite elves in the entire world talking about today?”
Fenris smirked at Merrill. “Dog person?” he said.
She laughed. “Definitely a dog person.”
Hawke’s beautiful coppery eyes went wide. “Who, me? Were you talking about me all this time, then? I’m so flattered!” She smiled at Varric and Sebastian. “Did you hear that, boys? They were talking about me.”
Sebastian gave her a chiding look. “Everyone is always talking about you, Hawke.”
“Including you?” she asked.
He blinked. “Well, yes, sometimes.”
She batted her eyelashes at him and pressed a hand to her chest. “Why, Sebastian! I never knew you harboured such feelings for me. I think we should pop back over to the Chantry so you can do a little prayer or two.”
“Feelings for—? I don’t harbour feelings for you!” Sebastian protested. “You and Fenris are together.”
She grinned salaciously. “So you would harbour feelings for me if I wasn’t with Fenris?”
Sebastian spluttered, and Varric chuckled and patted his elbow. “Calm down, Choir Boy, she’s just yanking your chain.”
“And what a chain it is,” Hawke purred.
Fenris huffed and patted her hip. “Enough, Hawke. Let’s be going.”
She pouted playfully at him as she rose to her feet. “Oh Fenris, don’t you worry. Your chain is the longest and thickest of them all.”
“Hawke!” Merrill exclaimed. “It’s unkind to talk about chains to Fenris. You know he was a…” She wilted. “Oh dear. I’ve missed something dirty, haven’t I?”
Varric and Hawke laughed and even Fenris smirked, and Sebastian cleared his throat and made for the door. “Come on, everyone, I thought we were meant to be somewhere…”
They trooped out of Fenris’s mansion together. Hawke draped her arm around Varric’s shoulders as she teased Sebastian about his apparent crush on her, and Fenris gazed fondly at her back as he and Merrill followed close behind.
Merrill hummed softly to herself as they walked, and Fenris shot her a sideways glance. “What about you, then? If we’re going by your definition, are you a dog person or a cat person?”
She waved her hands. “No no, that’s not how it works. I told you which one you are. You have to tell me.”
He eyed her thoughtfully before replying. “Neither. You’re a bird person.”
“A bird person?” she exclaimed.
He nodded. “You flit around from place to place doing strange things, and people believe you’re flighty. That’s when you swoop in and peck out somebody’s eyes.”
Merrill’s jaw dropped. Then she broke into tinkling laughter. “Fenris! That’s almost nice coming from you!”
He huffed in amusement as they followed Hawke and the others through Hightown. He and Merrill would never be friends; there were too many differences between them that neither of them could compromise about. But perhaps they could stand to be a little friendlier at times.
Perhaps, Fenris thought, Merrill wasn’t all that bad after all.
