A Long Way to Go (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

No Self-Respecting Wyvern

They arrived at the Duke de Montfort's estate in the mid-morning of the day the hunt was to begin, and the servants who swarmed immediately around the carriage were clearly distressed by their late arrival. Apparently the hunt had begun early that morning, and adding another hunting party at this point was not something the servants looked forward to suggesting to the Duke. Not to mention the strangeness of Hawke's party—two elves and a dwarf, and none of them servants. Fenris could see the Duke's people trying to determine how he and Varric and Tallis should be treated.

"You will have to go and change, messere," one of the elves said to him. "The hunt has already begun."

"I have no need to change," he said, firmly but courteously. He had been in their shoes once.

The servants looked him up and down with almost as much suspicion and dislike as they aimed at Tallis. Fenris, at least, knew how to walk without attracting attention. Tallis practically demanded it, although, at least to Fenris's eye, she looked ridiculous next to the taller and infinitely more elegant Hawke.

They were shown to their rooms, and more consternation ensued when Hawke made it clear that Fenris would be sharing her room rather than remaining in the quarters reserved for guest servants. Varric chuckled at the whole mess and disappeared into his own room. He understood the airs and graces of nobility well enough that the servants were already eating out of his hand.

The servants waited for them to change; were, in fact, difficult to dissuade from assisting with the changing themselves. Once they were all ready, the servants escorted them down to the courtyard. Fenris remembered Danarius's home, and how the slaves had hovered about his old master, ready to leap at his every whim. This reminded him all too much of those days.

As they entered the courtyard where the Duke was holding court, a giant of a man with elaborately braided hair placed himself in front of Hawke. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at her.

If he intended to intimidate her, however, he was looking at the wrong woman. Hawke smiled politely, if coolly, and asked to be presented to the Duke.

Duke Prosper came forward, his hands outstretched, and Fenris immediately remembered the banquet at which they had met the Duke and the oily way in which the Duke had tried to worm his way into Hawke's good graces—and into her pants. With some difficulty, Fenris remained still and in the background. Their marriage was openly known, but it did not do to be too blatant about it.

"Ah," said the Duke with satisfaction, "the Champion of Kirkwall! These are honored guests," he said to his bodyguard, who grunted and backed away a few steps. "Please excuse Cahir," the Duke said, taking Hawke's hand. "A polite bodyguard is a contradiction in terms. Or so I am told." He smiled at her.

"A Chasind? Here?" Hawke asked.

"Yes, you are Fereldan, aren't you?" The Duke managed to make it sound as though he was surprised. Fenris and Varric exchanged a look, rolling their eyes at each other. "You would be familiar with his people, then."

"I've met a few Chasind," Hawke said. "None of whom would have hired themselves out to be a noble's bodyguard. You must be quite persuasive."

"Oh, I do hope so, my dear Champion," the Duke said. His face was too close to Hawke's for Fenris's liking. Did the man really think she would fall for such cheap flattery? The Duke's eyes slid over Tallis, Fenris, and Varric. "I see you brought servants, already armed and armored. Wonderful!"

Hawke held the Duke's gaze steadily with her own. "My husband Fenris, Your Grace. Varric Tethras you have no doubt heard of, and this is Tallis, my ... companion." She left the word there. To Fenris's ears, it sounded as though Tallis was Hawke's lover, and he wondered if she had meant to give that impression or if she simply hadn't thought the introduction through.