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Of course Varric had talked them into going to Chateau Haine. Of course they would have to be on the sidelines while Hawke charmed their way through the throng of people that admired the Champion, the one who took down an Arishok in single combat.
Orlesians were a rather touchy people, both figuratively in that they took a comment on their shoes as an insult to their family’s honor and in that they loved to casually touch one another, small glances of a hand on a forearm or a pat on the shoulder.
Fenris hadn’t bothered to remember anyone’s name, annoyance at being referred to as Hawke’s manservant too great to be bothered. He wasn’t entirely sure how Varric was amused at the whole gathering.
“Cheer up, Elf, Hawke’s not going to be swayed by any of these nobles,” the dwarf chuckled, casually sipping on the wine that had been provided. “You know you’re the only one with any real hold on their attention.”
“I am not bothered, Varric,” he snapped. “I simply wish to be done here and get back to Kirkwall.”
“Where you can ravish Hawke in a jealous pique? I see.”
Fenris rolled his eyes before striding off. He wouldn’t admit he wanted one woman in particular to cease touching Hawke every few seconds, and the fact that Hawke seemed to be oblivious sparked something in him.
Hawke smiled at Fenris as he approached, gummy smile entirely different from the polite lift of lips most of the party had received. “Excuse me, my lady. Fenris, what’s going on?”
The woman still had her hand resting on Hawke’s forearm, frowning at the interruption. That wouldn’t do.
Grateful they were in a relatively quiet part of the garden, Fenris wrapped his hand around the back of Hawke’s neck and pulled them down to meet him, claiming them with a possessive kiss that flared through him. Hawke’s hand met his waist and Fenris stepped closer, deepening the kiss as Hawke made a quiet noise stamped out by his lips. They separated after a few moments and the Orlesian woman excused herself, voice curt and glaring at Fenris.
“Maker’s breath, Fenris, what was that about?” Hawke asked, cheeks a little flushed and slightly breathless. Pride bloomed as Fenris realized it’s because of him that Hawke reacted that way.
“I wanted to,” Fenris replied. “I’ve barely seen you since we’ve slain that oversized wyvern.”
Hawke blinked. ”Wait a minute. Are you jealous? You’ve glared in my direction every time some noble tries flirting with me.”
“I’m not jealous,” he snapped almost immediately. Hawke grinned. “Stop that, you look ridiculous.”
“You are jealous.” Hawke leaned forward, quickly catching Fenris in another kiss, one much softer this time. “You have nothing to worry about, Fenris. You’ve said it yourself - I am yours.”
Fenris scowled, hand idly tracing a pattern on the back of Hawke’s neck. “I know, as I am yours. I still do not like how these people feel entitled to your attention.”
“You’re your own man, Fenris. I love you, but you don’t belong to me. Or anyone.”
“I choose you, Hawke. I am not afraid to say that.”
Hawke smiled at him. “Let’s find Tallis so we can finish here and go home. I think tonight will be a good one for trying a new book.”
Fenris huffed as Hawke went off to find where the elven woman had disappeared to, affection winning over any jealousy he’d felt. Still, he was proud of the reaction he had gotten from the woman that had been flirting with Hawke when he’d arrived. One was allowed to be petty on occasion, he supposed, as he knew Hawke would never betray him.