A/N: Since it seems I'm going to continue this story, I decided to finally write a sensible description.

This is a friendship romance. I know, it's hard to believe this in first chapters, but it'll get there eventually. This story will not retell the game, it's more about covering gaps and adding my own dialogs in-between of game's events. And my dialiogs almost always are sarcastic snarking.

Thanks a lot to Sten's cookie for beta-reading this mess in one swift go:)

Don't go looking for snakes, you might find them

"It took decades for other Blights to run their courses. This one? Less than two years. Don't you see? It never happened! It was all a Fereldan ploy!"

"Don't you dare doubt the Fereldan Blight! Of course it ended quickly – my cousin was in charge. Because we Amells are just that awesome," Erica Hawke laughed, turning back to her table. "Hey, I should use that as our motto! I mean, we're bloody nobility, we must have a motto, right?"

"Maybe we should get an actual estate first," her brother Carver grumbled, but she just ignored him.

"Where was I? Oh, right. Isabela," Hawke murmured with a smile too soft to be genuine. "You cheated, my dear."

"Oh, you're wounding me with such preposterous ideas," Isabela pouted, collecting her winnings.

"You'd better not do it again. Not with me," Hawke said with the same tone.

Isabela smirked to herself. She rather liked Hawke; the girl was fun, smart, mischievous, but also confident and strong. She reminded Isabela of herself, not of who she was, but who she could've been, if she had had loving parents and the ability to defend herself with her mind. She was bright and fiery, and not just because she preferred fire to other elements. She was raised as the center of the universe, the brightest light, the pride and joy of her parents. She never tolerated any abuse, she never knew rejection or humiliation and she was never betrayed by someone she trusted. Well-intended spoiled brat in other words. She thinks she can beat Isabela in cheating? Hah! Time to clip the wings of the little hawklet.

"So, what's with that Warden-healer guy?" Isabela asked nonchalantly, shuffling and stacking the deck. "I still can't remember why he seems so familiar…"

"Well, he was rather sweet. Up until point when he promised to hurt me," Hawke said, obliviously accepting from Isabela the worst possible hand.

"Hurt you?" Carver tensed, his hand rising involuntarily to the hilt of his sword. Isabela found it sweet that while the younger brother fully understood – and constantly complained - that his sister was way more powerful than him, he still couldn't get rid of his brotherly protective instinct. "How does he think he can hurt you? He's a healer and you're a walking firestorm."

The apostate chose possibly the most effective tactic, Isabela thought. Playing hard to get was one of the few ways to keep Hawke interested. She couldn't resist a challenge. She would take any job, no matter what the odds were, if it matched her principles, of course. She only offered her help with Castilion when she found out why he was after Isabela. The little bird cherished her own freedom so much, she couldn't stand to see others harassed over theirs. She was the center of her world and in her world people like that did not exist, and if they did, it wasn't for long.

That was her problem. Pride. The girl would rather break her neck than bow it. She was willing to go into the Deep Roads just to throw the templars off her track. A track lined with scorched craters, because she'd set on fire everyone who tried to threaten her precious free will.

"Not that way, you silly thing," Isabela teased the young warrior lazily. "Next time you go to the Blooming Rose, find Llolth the Black Widow. She'll show you how proper hurting must be done."

Carver shot an embarrassed glance at laughing Hawke and blurted, "I'm not going there!"

"Oh, but why?" Hawke asked with exaggerated concern "Are you out of your pocket money already? Should I give you more? Because if it makes you whine even a little bit less, I'll arrange a bake sale."

"I hate you all," Carver muttered and crossed his arms over his chest.

Isabela chuckled and turned to Hawke "So, gonna give it a shot?"

"I don't know," Hawke sighed, laying her cards on the table and thoughtfully casting her eyes up at the ceiling. Oh, you're such an easy victim, dear, Isabela thought. In one smooth quick motion the pirate moved her arm under the table to complete the perfect hand, but suddenly she was stuck. There wasn't anything physically wrong with her, she felt no pain, as if the air around her palm was petrified.

Oh shit, that gravity thing that Hawke is so fond of on the battlefield…

Meanwhile Hawke just rambled on, looking absolutely innocent.

"I mean, we've know each other for like what, two days? And he's already all "I'm gonna hurt you, baby. I'm gonna hurt you bad."

Isabela felt her cards slipping out of her fingers and silently gritted her teeth, still keeping the light smile on her face. Trying to accuse Hawke of cheating while being caught and frozen in the middle of it herself would be pathetic. And Hawke would just pretend to "marvel at the Maker's true wonder" as if she had nothing to do with it.

"…But he's funny when he's not being overdramatic. Come to think of it, he's funny when he is overdramatic too. So probably, yeah, I'll give him a chance."

Isabela wondered with annoyance when she would be able to move her arm from this awkward position, then there were cards in her hand again and she was free. The mage had just switched their cards.

"You arrogant magical ass." The pirate said, throwing her cards on the table. She took part in too many duels to not understand when she lost. "You have many tricks up your sleeve, don't you?"

"Sure," Hawke smiled smugly. "Father had me learning this since we discovered my magic. He said card tricks help to develop precision and power is nothing without an accurate control. I can have cards flying around if I want or manipulate them within the deck to set up another player… actually, almost anything. So yeah, you just don't cheat with a force mage."

"Then why don't you use it all the time?" Isabela raised her eyebrow. Hawke was decent in the fair game, but not really good. She was too impulsive, lively and expressive to hide her emotions well. She was trying to pretend they apply to the dialog, not her cards, but Isabela could read her quite easily. But with this ultimate cheating magic she wouldn't need to worry or be dexterous and cunning.

"It gets boring," Hawke shrugged with a disappointed smile. "No challenge, no interest. Useful when you really need to win, but I prefer the fair game."

"You do it with me anyway," Carver grumped from his corner. "You win all the time."

"No, you just suck, Carver," Hawke said and her brother snorted, turning away. "Well, I'm sorry, dear, but it's true."

"Hmmm, no challenge?" Isabela grinned wickedly and pointed at the group of mercenaries who sat at the next table. "How about we don't cheat each other, but see who can make those guys bite the dust first? And the winner gets the pretty one."

Hawke examined them, wrinkling her nose.

"Alright. But I'm afraid you'll get the pretty one anyway, because that mysterious fellow hides from my gaze."

"You're too picky," Isabela sighed. Hawke wasn't a prude; she clearly had had a few affairs in Kirkwall, though she refused to name them, and she freely flirted with people and joked about sexual themes. But her standards were higher than the Viscount's Keep. Isabela suspected a "little princess" thing going on there. Well, maybe that Anders would make Hawke melt and swoon.

Maker, wouldn't that be a funny sight?

"That was… quite the entrance," I smirked, when Fenris passed out of sight.

"I hope there will be quite the reward too," Isabela grinned.

"I wouldn't expect too much of a payment from this one…" I said carefully. There are really very few things that I can't tolerate at all and I always sympathize with the victims of slavery, demons and frills on clothes. I wasn't going to take the last coins from a runaway slave.

"So, we went through all this trouble for nothing? Figures," Carver grumped and I glared at him.

"Why?" Isabela leered at me, immediately on guard. Varric stayed quiet for now, but I knew he's very touchy about making a profit too.

"Haven't you noticed? He's barefoot. He probably sold his last boots to hire that jumpy dwarf."

"Well, then he can sell his shirt too and pay us."

"You just want to see how far those markings go," I accused jokingly. Come on, he was pretty and exotic, you should be at least intrigued…

Isabela considered the thought for a second. "Do you think his markings are so… swirly everywhere? Or there could be… different pictures?"She mused in the low voice. Alright, one side is distracted, but Varric required a very different approach.

"Besides, we've already gotten quite a show!" I declared enthusiastically, winking at the dwarf. "How often do you see a white-haired elf in skin-tight armor, glowing as he sticks his hand through another guy's chest? I wouldn't sell tickets for less than a sovereign."

"Well, that could be a good story…" Varric muttered thoughtfully.

Seems we're all good and motivated. For now. I sighed. Being a leader of this band of misfits is no easy job, and certainly a peculiar experience. One day I'll persuade Aveline and Isabela to mutual consent and then I know I'm able to sell nugs as pets to Hightown nobles and convince Meredith that mages should be free.

Ah, sweet dreams.

"Why does he need to fight them at all?" Isabela asked musingly as we headed to Hightown. "I'm sure there are many people who would find this magical fisting thing worthy of giving him shelter and protection."

"He'd be too noticeable in the Blooming Rose," Carver snorted.

"Word of an expert," I teased as Carver scowled at me, but Isabela continued.

"Yes, but in some private estate, like one that your family once had… and you're going to reclaim soon…" She trailed off, giving me a questioning and a bit of a predatory look. I knew this one, it meant 'So, what do you think about this piece of man-flesh?' I wrinkled my nose at her.

He was handsome, I couldn't argue with that. But… his white hair, that armor with spiky feathers on his shoulders, and the pattern of his markings… It all just seemed so unnatural and decorative, as if he was designed to be attractive, to make an impression, to catch everyone's eyes. When he stood there in the moonlight, I could mistake him for an exotic statuette. Me, I'm more into natural style.

"We've already dragged one annoying guardswoman from Ferelden! Don't tell me we're collecting stray elves now."

"No, we're not, Carver. You can go home without any worry."

"What? Why?"

"That's an order." I said with my special icy tone, which meant that jokes are over. Fighting with a Tevinter magister wasn't going to be pretty and I won't risk losing my last sibling.

Carver spat on the cobblestones and stormed off without saying goodbye. It's okay, he can hate me all he wants from the safety of home.

When we walked out of the mansion, Fenris was leaning up against the wall, looking like an actor who is about to start a tragic monologue. And he did.

"It never ends. I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul."

Now, now, we're quite dramatic, aren't we? The elf finally stopped propping up the wall and came up to me.

"And now I find myself in the company of yet another mage."

Sure, it's clearly a conspiracy, I thought with irritation. He pronounced "mage" in the exactly same tone that Gamlen uses for "your filthy dog".

"I saw you casting spells inside. I should've realized sooner what you really were."

Yeah, you should! And who did you think I was when you first saw me – in obviously mage's robes, with my glowing staff?

Hush, calm down, girl, poor guy is a victim.

"Tell me then – what manner of mage are you? What is it that you seek?"

Alright, I'm done with calming down.

"Huh?" I said incredulously "Am I shitfaced drunk or are you a Chantry sister so I would confess to you my goals and dreams? Could you come up with something more personal in the first meeting?"

"What color your underclothes are?" Isabela suggested, smirking, but with genuine interest. The elf glanced at her quickly.

"What did you expect to hear?" I continued "I'm a blood mage, I wanna become an abomination and kill everyone around. Feel free not to pay me for my help!"

He frowned hesitantly. "It's merely a precaution. After all I've been through, I won't harbor a viper in my midst."

What? You know, you arrogant ass, this viper can find better midsts to harbor in!

A second before getting a fireball full in the face, Fenris held up his hands and said quickly, "I don't mean you, of course. I'm not blind. I know magic has its uses, and there are undoubtedly mages with good intentions. But even the best-intentioned mage can fall prey to temptation, and then their power is a curse to inflict upon others."

Oh, you want to be ridiculous? Alright, I can be ridiculous too.

"Yeah? You know, once a guy with pretty green eyes - just like yours - broke my heart. Does that mean I shouldn't trust anyone with the same feature?"

"It's not the same." He said after a pause, quirking his eyebrow. "I do not possess the power to affect others minds."

"But your eyes are enchanting." I murmured sweetly. Men always buy flattery and if you just randomly throw it in argument, they don't know how to react.

"You do have pretty eyes, I must agree." Isabela said musingly.

"What if you made me agree to help you in this dangerous adventure? Should I blind you or put an eye-band on you so I can think straight?"

Heh, he's really cute with that 'lost puppy' look. I sighed.

"Hey, look, those Tevinter magisters are real assholes and you hate them, I get it. But that doesn't give you the right to throw accusations at every mage who comes along and, if you hadn't notice, helps you."

He shook his head and cleared his throat

"I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth."

I cocked my eyebrow and smirked.

"Actually, serah, you do sound a little ungrateful. And by 'a little' I mean 'the size of an overfed bronto'".

His lips quirked with poorly hidden disdain. He took a purse from his belt and held it out to me.

"If it is the coins you're talking about, here is all I have, as Anso promised."

"I won't take your money." I said, lifting my chin. Varric coughed disapprovingly. "You can keep it as well as your blind hate for mages."

The elf knitted his brows "I do not like to be in debt to…"

He hesitated, choosing a word, and I put in acidly "…a magical viper?"

"…anyone, especially a stranger. So take the money." he finished firmly.

"No." I said stubbornly. "And I'm not keeping you in debt. So good bye, best wishes, yadda yadda."

I turned my back on him, preparing to leave, but he almost growled

"Vishante kaffas! Take it or I'll just drop it here!"

I looked at him, maybe for the first time really looked at him, and something stopped me from snorting, waving him off and walking away.

"Hawke, let's just take the coin as our friend demands and leave nicely." Varric cooed insistently.

Probably I should have done as he said. This elf was a real mess. But… what would happen to him if I walked away?

A former slave, in armor so catchy, without any normal social skills or good contacts…

Maker's breath, he was lucky that Meeran bothered to tell me about that hysterical dwarf – he clearly didn't see this "contact" being worthy for the Red Irons. After a year of dealing with local folk, I could tell that most of the other bands and groups in town would just sell this guy back to his former master, just because it was more profitable.

Oh shit. This is going to be a royal pain in the ass.

"I will not take your money." I said slowly "But to return your debt, you can help me with an expedition that I'm planning right now. The Deep Roads, lots of fighting, but good profit."

He blinked at me, his dark eyebrows going up in surprise. Isabela and Varric stared at me with the same expression. The elf narrowed his eyes, examining me suspiciously.

I smirked, "Your chance to prove you're not blind, hm?"

"Fair enough." He muttered finally and walked past me to the door. "Should you ever have a need of me, I will be here. If Danarius wishes his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it. Beyond that I am at your disposal."

Normally I wouldn't leave anyone to spend their first night in the city in a mansion full of fresh corpses of demons and abominations. In any other case, I would drag him to the Hanged Man and get him drunk and try to make him feel that he has his back covered. But this ungrateful arrogant trout… Nah, he can sit here and despise me all alone. So I just headed to Lowtown.

Varric managed to feign disinterest for a whole minute or even two.

"And here I thought you didn't like him."

"It's reassuring to know that my storyteller still has his remarkable grasp for the obvious."

"Then why request his help?"

I sighed. "Varric, did you hear that sound when he handled me his purse?"

"What sound?"

"The delicious jingle that coins make when there are many of them in the purse. No? That's why I'm gonna make him work off the full price of our help. Besides, harassing my lil' grumpy brother is no fun anymore. And now I have a new victim to throw all fifty millions dirty jokes about greatswords that I've been collecting for my whole life."

"And it has nothing to do with those shining green eyes?" Isabela murmured wickedly.

"Isabela, please." I rolled my eyes. "If I wanted to hire someone for pretty eyes, I'd go to the Blooming Rose."

"So you won't mind if I go after him?"

"You can go after him all you want, just let me get some sleep right now, deal?"