And finally, finally, after lots of turns and curves and loopings, the rollercoaster reaches its end…

It started with a kiss chapter 31

Two months later…

It was a lovely autumn day with a bright sun that made the temperature rise to an unexpected height for this time of year, and the air was full of the heavy musty tang of moulding leaves and moist soil. At midday they ("they" meaning quite a lot of people but also, and most important, the Ragtag Bunch) were all gathered in the Chantry garden where the chrysanthemums and asters and even the last of the lavender were blooming exuberantly. But the state of the garden wasn't by far the most interesting aspect of the scene.

Even yet another Guard of Honour wasn't, even though this one was formed out of the Chantry's orphans, impatiently shoved into line by a rather sour looking Sister Geofride. She had received some kind of verbal tap over the knuckles from the Grand Cleric herself, so she didn't have the heart to protest though she, of course, had a thing or two to say about the happening. She swallowed her pointedly words and stuck with looking acidly and pushing the orphans around, who weren't impressed at all by her behaviour.

Side by side behind a makeshift altar stood both the Grand Cleric and the Keeper. Now, that was a sight hitherto unseen in the whole history of Thedas and one of the reasons for Geofride's sour mood.

But what definitely caught the eye was the pair that now strode down the aisle with heavenly smiles floating upon their faces, Sebastian shining in his spotless polished armour and Merrill radiating in a lovely green dress trimmed with silver thread and with a tiara of flowers in her hair. Mayflower went in front of them, strewing petals around with a deeply concentrated but happy face.

Hawke nudged Varric, grinning. 'There you go: nice flowers, a green aisle and a pretty dress and all. Satisfied?'

The dwarf shrugged nonchalantly. 'Wrong bride, obviously. And wrong groom too, come to think about it.' He threw Hawke a dirty look and continued, 'Then again, we had more of those confusions not long ago.' He looked sideways at the Guard Captain who stood next to Guardsman Donnic smiling, as she did quite often of late. 'And surprises too. I'd never imagined stern "Order will Rule" Aveline canoodling with one of her subordinates. Perhaps even less than I'd pictured myself as a married man.' He grimaced painfully. 'But, to answer you remark, I suppose it's the idea of the Elvhen wedding that counts.'

'Ecumenical,' Hawke corrected him mildly. 'It's an ecumenical wedding, not an Elvhen one.' She added with a twinkle in her eye, 'And I've heard you call Isabela "the Missus", so, apparently, marriage is growing on you.'

Varric waved his hand dismissively. 'Yeah yeah, all roses and butterflies.' His look turned a bit acerbic when it fell upon Keeper Marethari who stood proudly in what Hawke presumed was her finest finery. 'Obviously she didn't consider this a sham,' the dwarf said tartly. 'It boggles the mind she could be persuaded to descend from her ivory tower to grace us with her presence.'

'Merrill used to be her First,' Fenris reacted, 'it seems the Keeper still has a soft spot for her. She didn't need much persuasion.'

Varric turned sharply to him. 'You arranged this!' he hissed accusingly. 'And how did you succeed where Merrill so gloriously failed? Found a herd of halla, did you?'

Fenris frowned. 'No. I just talked to her. Reasonably.'

'I see. Elf to elf, hm?' He cocked his head when he remembered Fenris' words in the Viscount's office and scrutinised the Tevinter elf almost aggressively. 'You're not really thinking of becoming Dalish, are you? Don't tell me that's the trump card you played!'

The elf chuckled softly. 'No, I am not. Don't fret. We just had a good talk, that's all, and in the end I managed to let her agree with my point of view.'

'Yeees,' Varric said scornfully, not at all convinced, 'because you're known for your diplomatic behaviour, especially around mages.'

Fenris smiled faintly but withheld from comment. He thought back at the conversation while he watched the merry couple slowly progressing down the aisle, preceded by a glowing Lemonade Girl who by now almost skipped from happiness. He understood the girl was living permanently with Merrill and Sebastian now and that they were in the process of adopting her as their own daughter. He smiled inwardly; he had never seen the former prince as father material but as he witnessed how he acted around Mayflower, and the other children of the school they had founded, he had to admit Sebastian did surprisingly well, probably to his own astonishment.

Though he couldn't possibly be more astounded than Fenris the moment the elf heard himself say he would take it upon him to plead with Keeper Marethari on behalf of Merrill. The Keeper had treated him to an unreadable smile when she said, 'And here I was, thinking you considered Merrill your worst enemy.'

'There are others entitled to that label, Madam,' he had said, a tad stiffly, 'I considered her mainly a silly girl and at most a dangerous fool.'

'And something has changed that,' Marethari assumed. She had invited him inside her aravel and offered him a cup of wine, 'otherwise you wouldn't be here.'

'Even I can acknowledge she genuinely loves Sebastian Veal.' Fenris had come right to the point. 'And I consider that a good thing.'

'Really? And how do you figure?'

This time it was Fenris' turn to treat the Keeper to one of his trademark lopsided smiles. 'She has stowed away the, as my woman calls it, killer mirror in the cellar of their house and hasn't paid it attention for several months. Better even…' he had reached inside one of the pockets attached to his belt and had brought about the Arulin'Holm and presented it to Marethari. 'She insists she doesn't need it any longer.'

Without twitching a muscle the Keeper had asked, 'And this man? Does he love her back? Genuinely?'

'He does.'

'In that case it will be a pleasure and an honour to celebrate their marriage,' the Keeper had said and her following words, spoken near casually, knocked Fenris off his feet. 'In a way Merrill was right, of course.'

'I'm sorry. What?'

'Oh, not about the mirror and the blood magic, obviously, but about history. Have you ever wondered why elves so easily are taken captive and dragged into slavery or at best are dealt with as second hand, worthless beings?' He had stared at her wordlessly. 'Because we lack even the basic knowledge of our history.'

Fenris made an impatient gesture with his hand. 'Yes, Merrill goes on about that incessantly but, as I once said to her, what is the importance of knowing about a history of defeat?'

But Marethari shook her head. 'It's not the defeat that's the worst part, it's the wiping out of all we were. We lost everything that day: our stories, our songs, our culture, our identity. How can we stand up for ourselves if we don't know what and who we are? How can we defend ourselves if we can't be proud of what we are or, if need be, what we were? We have become so weak and so fragile, even the Dalish who like to look down upon what they call "flat ears". We don't know where we're going when we don't know where we came from. We don't really exist without our history and Merrill was right by trying to restore that, only not by the way how she did it.'

Fenris had stayed silent and she had continued, 'I know you think of the Dalish as some self-absorbed children with no sense of reality and with an arrogant attitude to boot.'

Fenris chortled, a bit ashamed. 'That's not far from the truth.'

Marethari reached for the jug and refilled their cups. 'And you're not completely wrong. But don't you think it would be better to stand side by side instead of looking down our noses at each other? We're not only Dalish or City Elves, with all our differences. Most and for all we are Elves and we still carry a little piece of Arlathan inside of us. Our history. We should not forget that.'

He had felt like a schoolboy being chided. Or better, perhaps, being taught a valuable lesson. 'I will think about what you've said,' he had promised.

Right now he touched the little box the Keeper had given him as a farewell present that he kept as a treasure in the pocket of his trousers.

'A little example of how beautiful our culture can be,' she had said, 'or better even: of the inheritance of Arlathan. We should never forget Arlathan, no matter how painful it ended.' Her smile had become a beam. A naughty one no less. 'And this particular piece of culture is meant to bind people together, so it cannot be more appropriate.'

He had actually blushed.

All the way back to Kirkwall he had contemplated her words. Being an elf had never mattered to him. He wasn't proud of his race but certainly not ashamed either. Yes, he had been a slave but in Tevinter not only elves were slaves. Marethari hadn't spoken of a revolution but simply about acceptance. Of remembering who you were, where you came from. Merrill had uttered similar words. Maybe, he had concluded, they were both right. At least, he had to admit, it was important to have an identity. And also that it wasn't wise to identify yourself by your enemies or your urge for vengeance. He had thought long and hard. Common ground was important, yes, something to fall back on when the whole world became bleak and even dangerous. When you became your own worst enemy. If you had no family to rely on, there could always be – history. The knowledge of who you were.

He had smiled. Maybe he should talk with Merrill about it. Without his usual rigid judgement.

At the same time that Fenris had gone off to Sundermount, Hawke had visited the Grand Cleric with the same appeal. But since Elthina was already convinced that Merrill was the best that ever could happen to Sebastian, elven mage or not, she was a push-over. Hawke was hardly able to say "It would mean so much for the both of them if you and the Keeper would perform the rites together", before the Grand Cleric agreed. It had almost been unsatisfyingly easy.

Thankfully she had stumbled upon Sister Geofride on her way out and the woman had had the audacity to try to call upon her non-existent feelings of good manners. That is to say, Sister Geofride's feelings of good manners, that leant dangerously close to bigotry. So Hawke had had the satisfactory chance to shout at her which had made her feel a lot better.

From the corner of her eye she now witnessed Anders whisper some words into Isabela's ear. It must be something dirty because the pirate got into a fit of laughter and slapped the mage on the arm. And she wasn't that easily impressed. Hawke quickly turned her head to see Varric's big grin at the little scene. No bout of jealousy there, rather the opposite.

Isabela and Anders were still lovers, openly and with everyone's approval by now.
Even with Varric's. Especially with Varric's. And, as far as Hawke knew, even with Justice's approval although it could well be that Anders had threatened the spirit into submission on penalty of another experience with certain herbs. She didn't care, as long as he staid happy. It was wonderful to see him smile and even more to hear him laugh out loud. Hawke was secretly amazed Isabela still held on to the mage, although honestly, the pirate queen looked more like a woman in love with every passing day. But Marian didn't have the guts to say that out loud. She was very attached to her eyes.

She forced herself back to the ceremony happening on this beautiful autumn day and felt Fenris's hand slip into hers. She smiled silently and softly squeezed his fingers. He squeezed back and she couldn't suppress a sudden jolt of want. She wished the ceremony to be over and to drag her elf back to their bedroom for a fiery round of heated lovemaking before the grand party would start in his former mansion. And judging his sudden embrace, he thought the same.

Later that evening, after all the festivities, Fenris stared critically at himself in the bedroom mirror. He was still (or sooner, again) dressed in the suit Marian had bought for him for their not-wedding day and he had worn today, if only to indulge her and let her know he was no longer feeling uncomfortable with it. The suit was the last on his mind at this moment. He felt the little box burning in his trouser pocket. Or better: it contents.

'Would you say I've grown soft, Marian?' he asked his lover, after an intense scrutiny.

Hawke, who was wrestling out of her dress, stopped the struggling with the fabric to look him up and down; she unsuccessfully attempted to suppress a mischievous chuckle. 'No,' she giggled, 'I wouldn't say that; I have no complaints in that department whatsoever. As was proved this very afternoon, may I add.'

Fenris let out a deep sigh. No use to protest or even to correct her. He knew better by now. 'Mellow, then.'

Hawke finally got the upper hand in the battle with the dress and shimmied out of the garment. She walked over to him and embraced him from behind in just her underwear. 'I'd say, my love, that since the, er, how to put it, the Sebastian In Love Incident you've grown more empathetic.'

'You consider this a good thing?' Fenris sounded hesitant.

'A very good thing, my love. Please don't fret. You're even more desirable than you were when I first met you.' She kissed the exposed skin of his neck. 'Even more than when you unexpectedly kissed me on that memorable day on the Wounded Coast.'

Fenris laughed softly and turned to take her into his arms.

'I have something for you,' he murmured on her lips.

'Oh really? A present?'

'More than that.'

He reached into his trousers and brought about the little box. 'Keeper Marethari gave this to me. For exactly this occasion. Because, she claims, it binds people. Not just elves, or elves and humans, but also two people.' He swallowed. 'Two people who love each other and aren't afraid of the commitment.'

Hawke just stared at him, speechless. She could make an educated guess at what was to come and it screwed her throat shut with emotions.

'I suppose I have to go down on my knee,' Fenris said, a little awkwardly, and put the action to the word.

'And here I am, in my smalls,' said Marian, trying to get rid of the sudden lump in her throat and the tears pricking behind her eyes.

'And may I say very beautiful underwear,' Fenris responded with a little smile. 'My favourite, I believe.'

He flipped open the little box to reveal a ring of white gold, the metal craftily worked into elegantly intertwining branches, embracing a single blue stone. The exact colour of her eyes and he was not surprised the Keeper had known.

He put up courage and said, 'Marian Hawke, will you marry me?'

She looked at him with misty eyes and such a bright smile she almost swept him off his feet.

'I thought you'd never ask.'

Well – deep sigh – and I thought I would never bring this story to an end.

Thank you so much for staying with me on this so often bumpy ride!

Love you all!