Work Text:
"Your prejudice blinds you, elf. That mage was no more a danger to Kirkwall than I am. You're overreacting, being ridiculous, and are horribly dramatic to boot."
"Dramatic? You call me dramatic? This from the woman who taunts bandits and befriends self-pitying, angst-ridden abominations? Ha!" Fenris threw his arms up. "And blind! You believe every mage is as capable of controlling themselves as you are, as if it is so easy! If you had seen the things I'd seen in Tevinter, you would not be so very caviler."
"Yes yes, everything's bad in Tevinter, the magisters eat babies for breakfast, blah blah blah." Hawke crossed her arms and planted her feet in a wide, aggressive stance. "You truly believe every mage is half demon!"
"Maker's Breathe," Sebastian had paused near the entrance to the Hanged Man, stunned by the barrage of snipping anger that had washed over him the moment his boots crossed the threshold. He now walked up to Varric's table, where the hirsute dwarf sat alone, playing a solo hand of diamondback. "What's this?"
"Hey, choir boy," Varric said without looking up. "How're things up in holy-land?"
"Fine, Varric, thank you. But what has happened?" Sebastian sat down, and looked up to see Hawke poke a finger into Fenris' chest, her face a picture of indignant anger. The elf's face was a snarl, his green eyes blazing.
"Happened?" Varric sounded puzzled, then turned to follow Sebastian's gaze. He smirked. "Oh, yes, that. Just the usual happenings, you know. Tuesday night in the tavern."
"The usual? I thought Fenris and Hawke were the closest of friends. They have ever been polite, except for some gentle irony on Hawke's part, that dark humor of Fenris'. But they have ever been supportive companions." Sebastian glanced around. Isabela was flirting with some sailor, ostensibly pushing him to drink faster. Merrill was speaking animatedly to a bemused Aveline, and Anders appeared to be dispensing herbs to a clutch of fallen women. None of them were paying any attention to the yelling match that was dominating the room. This wasn't true for many of the other patrons, who were watching the dueling duo with open fascination. This was hardly a surprise - Hawke was the most famous woman in Kirkwall and startlingly attractive besides, and it was quite hard to ignore an unusually lanky elf with snow white hair and full-body lyrium tattoos. They made a riveting show.
"I will not agree to that, not until you read books that don't just support your beliefs - you need to challenge them, Fenris; as it is now, you don't have any damn idea what you're talking about!"
"Fine! Then find me these precious pro-mage books that will clarify all the beneficial wonders of magic to me, and I shall read them. I shall read them twice!" Fenris' lips twisted up into a contemptuous sneer. "But I bet they are very few, at least those that are not written by mages."
"You are a stubborn ass, and a brooding spikey fool!" Hawke planted her hands on her hips and stuck her bottom lip out. "I don't even know why I talk to you, you never listen to me."
"I still don't understand, Varric," Sebastian leaned forward. "Has the recent events in the city torn their friendship completely asunder? Do they hate each other so?"
Varric sighed, and pulled the cards towards him to reassemble the deck. "Sorry, your highness, I'd forgotten. You haven't been around much, have you?"
"You know I haven't. I've been on chantry business for two months. Was it a quest gone awry? Or did Fenris finally let his hate of mages overwhelm his affection? I was worried that would happen."
Varric grinned. "Watch and learn, Chantry. This'll all shift any moment now, I promise." He jerked his head over his shoulder. "They've been drinking, and they like to get into it when the wine flows. Sometimes they'll even do it sober, if they're feeling frisky."
"Frisky?" Sebastian was puzzled.
"Frisky," Varric said firmly.
"Fine! I understand! You hate magic, you hate mages, we're all evil, and you hate me!" Hawke waved her hands in front of her face in a motion of dismissal before turning her back to him. "How could I ever think differently?"
"Festis bei umo canvarum, mage, you know I don't hate you," Fenris strode forward and grabbed her by the shoulders. She briefly struggled against him, which he ignored. "For whatever reason, I find it impossible to stay away from you, just as impossible as denying your will. I am unable to hate you; believe me, I have tried." He wrapped his arms around her, and she swore, burying her face in his shoulder. "You are everything that evil is not."
"You are a knife eared bigot," she said, her voice a muffled mutter.
"Demon-possessed harridan," he countered, his tone thick with affection. He pushed her back to kiss her violently; in response she reached up and buried her fingers in his hair, clutching at him like a drowning woman.
The room cheered.
"By Andrastre's Sword, what the -" Sebastian's face burned.
"There you go, my prince. The two of them finally worked their issues out. This is the two of them happy."
Breaking their kiss, Fenris hooked his arm around Hawke's waist and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. She smiled, nodded, and still wrapped in each others' limbs they walked up the stairs and disappeared.
Varric continued. "Love with disagreement, chantry, is an explosive mix. For three years they've been polite friends, tiptoeing carefully, barely pretending that they weren't completely starving for each other while also wanting to slap each other silly. They'll calm down eventually." He dealt himself a new hand. "Or maybe not. Maybe they'll just keep fighting, and keep making up in creative ways. They seem to enjoy it almost as much as sex after skirmishes." He shook his head. "Wait until you see the looks they exchange after they've killed a few dozen darkspawn; you'll need a clean towel to wipe yourself down. Even Bianca blushes, and she's no snowy maiden."
"This is a sin," was all Sebastian could manage. His head felt aflame.
"Yeah, a lot of people are pretty jealous around here. Fancy a round?" Varric indicated the cards with a lazy smile. "It'll take your mind off all those mental images floating around your head, you know, the dirty ones. The boss and Ser Broods-a-lot, going at it. Screaming, growling, clutching. Naked and gasping, bathed in each others' sweat - who knows, the elf might even be glowing. I've heard rumors, and the noises those two make... Can't even describe 'em. Animals."
Sebastian was quiet for a long while, staring at the table. "You're a very wicked dwarf, Varric," he finally said.
"You know that's right, chantry. Hey, maybe a pint'll help. It'll clear your mind, give you a fresh perspective, re-connect you with the Maker, all those holy things."
"I.. no, thank you. I think I'll be getting back. I have a great deal of praying to do." Sebastian stood up quickly, and was vaguely aware his chair fell down behind him. As he left, he heard Varric's deep chuckle behind him, and his face burned anew in the chill Kirkwall night.