(A/N: X_X whew, sorry for the huge delay in this one, my only excuse is that life suddenly got insanely busy and I had to take a break from writing for a while, apologies, hopefully this slightly longer update makes up for it!)

"Have you decided what kind of a wedding you'll have?"

Fenris didn't look up from sharpening his blade, he'd been doing that a lot of late, this new city made him uneasy. They'd got into the alienage easily enough, Zevran's charm had helped them a lot in that respect. But still, the easy friendliness of the elves here was putting him on edge, he kept looking for the catch.

His covering of the markings was wracking his nerves too. Sure no-one looked twice at him when his tattoos were covered in dark ink, but it would only take one moment, one brief snap of his temper and their cover would be blown. At least the dye they'd poured into his hair was something he could forget about, but never the markings.

Coupled with Merrill's incessant questions about when he was going to give Hawke the ring… well, it was one unhappy tevinter elf sitting in the hovel the three occupied.

"What do you mean, 'What kind of wedding'? One where we get married and hopefully no-one attacks us." He replied with a growl.

"Ah, she means do you intend on wedding our lady Hawke in a Chantry or a Dalish wood?" Zevran called from the next room. He appeared in the doorway, shirtless and towelling his long blonde hair dry. "Dalish weddings are lavish affairs." He commented with a wink.

"Oh! Have you been to many?" Merrill chirped, eyes lighting up, "I've never seen a wedding… oh my, are you married, Zevran?"

Zevran gave a loud snort and began to laugh at this absurd suggestion, shaking his head gracefully, "Dear Blossom, I would have to have wedded the most understanding woman in all Thedas to get away with what I do. No, no-one has seen fit to make an honest man of me."

"As if a ring on your finger would do that." Fenris replied with a roll of his eyes.

Zevran winked again in reply, turning back to Merrill, "I have seen a Dalish wedding, yes. A friend of mine from years ago… ahh Fenris, amigo, do not dismiss the idea so fast, eh?"

Fenris shrugged, "Why not? Hawke is a human and I'm a seth'lin, I scarcely see how a Dalish wedding would be appropriate."

Merill shook her head quickly, "Oh no, you don't have to be full Dalish, all elves can have a wedding officiated by a keeper, I don't know what the rules are about Shems but Hawke's respected among the people, I doubt there'd be objections."

Fenris rolled his eyes, "Even so, I doubt that would be to either of our tastes." He paused, then risked a look up. Merrill's eyes were saddened.

He let out a deep sigh, perhaps he was softening from this time among other elves. "All right, tell me about it." He huffed.

Zevran sighed happily, brushing his long blonde hair back, "Ah, well the main thing is that it must take place during a full moon. I asked a keeper about that once, apparently full moons keep the dread wolf away. The keeper stands atop this… sort of little stage thing." Zevran waved his hands vaguely, uncertain of how to describe it, "all covered in white flowers, Ivy, I believe…"

"For a good marriage!" Merrill piped up knowledgably, nodding at Fenris, as if he'd been doubting her knowledge of plants. The Tevinter elf rolled his eyes in response.

"Si, for a good marriage. De bride and groom wear white, and are brought to the stage by all the men or women in their family. It's a big celebration, you see, continuing the bloodline." Zevran smirked saucily, "Frankly, 'ow concerned the dalish are with their bloodlines, I'm surprised the wedding night isn't put on display too."

"Pervert." Fenris remarked sharply.

"Oh don't spoil it, keep telling us!" Merrill plead, eager to stop any arguments, her wide green eyes shimmered slightly.

Zevran sighed, "Ah fine, fine, was just my little joke. Anyway, de bride and de groom approach de keeper, who says some sort of blessing over them… let me see…" the Antivan cleared his throat, "Vir Assan, Vir Bor'Assan, Vir Adahlen."

Merill blinked and let out a soft sigh, it seemed the girl was a terminal romantic. "Oh That's lovely, it's the code of the Dalish, the Vir Tanadahl… The way of the arrow, the bow and the forest."

Intrigued, despite his natural resistance to the Dalish, Fenris leant forwards slightly, "What does it mean then? Translated?"

Merill beamed, "Fly straight and do not waver, bend but never break; together we are stronger than the one." Merrill sighed once more, "I'd never heard it used for a wedding before, but how lovely…"

Fenris and Zevran exchanged a look of disbelief that the Dalish, who had been nothing but hostile to the pair of them in recent years, could come up with something so admittedly poignant for a wedding blessing.

"Bend but never break… that's a hell of a lot to live up to." Fenris muttered.

Neither Zevran or Merrill felt close enough to the elf to point out that to them it sounded a perfect description of Hawke, and indeed, Fenris himself. Things had always threatened to tear them apart and yet, years later, here they still stood, totally devoted to one another.

Zevran broke the silence, "Oh! There is dancing too! The whole clan dances at a wedding, keeper too. Not a patch on antivan dancers, but still…" Zevran smirked, recalling his viewing of a Dalish wedding and how odd it was to see them letting their hair down, to see them leaping and spinning as if they'd never touched the ground in their lives, light as petals caught in the wind.

"Could you teach me?" Merrill asked, sitting more upright, voice tight with eagerness.

Zevran snapped out of his daydream and gently shook his head, "Another time, blossom, we are late for meeting our beloved amigos." He rose from his seat, trailing across the room to the smaller wash-room they'd set up, retrieving his shirt and dropping the towel off in one trip.

"We'd have been there by now if you didn't insist on washing your hair." Fenris grumbled, rising slowly and stretching. He paused briefly to check that the ring was still securely tied into Hawke's favor around his wrist.

Well, maybe not a Dalish wedding, but that little blessing sounded nice. Perhaps he'd ask Hawke if they could include it. If he ever got up the nerve to ask her the big question.

+_+_+_+

At the docks, Varric was having his acting muscles stretched to their very limits. A city Dwarf in his bones, he had no idea what made a good ship and was relying on Isabella's expetise. The trouble was that to maintain their disguises as a merchant and his 'escort' they would have to pretend he was an utter expert on all manner of ships. Currently they were getting by with an elaborate system of coded nods and winks from Isabella to mean anything from 'Good deal' to 'Don't trust this one'.

Still, it seemed to be working, the dock master was looked suitably intimidated by this dwarf's apparent knowledge and had stopped showing them what Isabella called 'old junkers' an hour ago.

Now he lead them up the gangplank of one of his smaller vessels, clearly not built for cargo. Wringing his hands slightly he wheedled, "What does Sirrah think of this vessel?"

Varric stamped one foot on the deck, taking the chance to glance at Isabella. She was nodding very subtly behind the shimmery veil she'd chosen as part of her disguise.

"Not bad." Varric conceded, "Won't carry much cargo."

"Well, no." The dock master confessed, "but sirrah said he was hoping to use the vessel as a passenger craft, not a primarily cargo-carrying ship."

"Hrm, so you do listen." Varric smiled smugly. "How many can the old girl carry? How many crewmen would she be needing?"

"Oh," The man perked up slightly, clearly smelling a sale. "It could easily carry twenty, and would need a crew of no more than four or five. Not including servants." The man cleared his throat, "I would, however, warn you against taking her too far out into open sea, where was sirrah thinking of running his ferry?"

This was an easier lie to come up with, Varric waved one hand easily, "Just along the coast of the Free Marches, it's faster to go by boat than trekking over that wild countryside."

So, it might struggle in open water… still, the ship looked solid, and it wasn't like the sea between the Free Marches and Fereldan was known to be choppy. Besides, they'd have an experienced captain in charge and a crew of ten altogether. Varric liked those odds.

The blonde Dwarf glanced to Isabella again. Her eyes were sparkling. He nodded, "I think this might be the one… twenty would be more than enough room." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Does the old girl have a name?"

The dock master rubbed his hands gleefully, "Oh yes sirrah, she's called 'The Hawk's Flight'."

Varric very nearly gave the game away then by laughing, but fought it back admirably. With a wide grin he offered his hand to the man, "In that case," he purred in the silken tones of a man who'd struck many a bargain in his life,

"We just need to discuss the price."

The poor dock master had noidea what was about to hit him.

"I hate not being able to speak to you." Bethany whispered to what appeared to be the empty air.

Leaning on the wall just around the corner from her, Zevran let out a low sigh, "It is a trial, Betania, for me too." He kept his expression carefully blank. Anyone looking at this particular corner of the Vulgar lion would never have guessed the young woman and the elf were conversing at all. All part of the disguise, Hawke had insisted.

For a moment the two were silent, then Zevran allowed himself the luxury of a smile.

"If it makes jou feel better, caramia, I believe Fenris is suffering greatly for de sake of dis disguise."

Bethany smirked a little under her hooded robe. "I noticed. Marian's going mad too." She giggled, thinking on how at least her sister was sharing the unfairness of this separation.

It was all very well for Aveline and Donnic, who could happily remain a couple in this city under the guise of a pair of fleeing gaurds, but for the others it simply wasn't wise to be seen together. The elves in the group had been confined to the alienage, the humans taking rooms in the Vulgar Lion.

The only times they all dared gather together were rare occasions in an alleyway just outside the ale-house, where quick updates were hissed and instructions to lay low and keep an ear open for news were muttered. It was hardly the stuff romantic dreams were made of.

It was all the more frustrating on nights like this, when they were all there in the pub. The general feeling was that it should be like the old times; all of them sharing jokes, playing Wicked grace and (once a suitable amount of alcohol had been drunk) singing bawdy songs.

"…I adore jou." Zevran muttered.

Bethany's face went slightly pink and softly she mumbled, seemingly to no-one, "Stop that talk, it makes it worse, not being able to kiss you."

"Ah, now jou're just making it a challenge." Zevran smirked into his drink.

"Sneaky elf." Bethany bit her lip.

Zevran licked his own lips, purring back, "Jou know jou love it." He glanced up at the door and sighed, "Alas, it ends too soon. Varric is 'ere." He paused, then added, "See you in the alleyway in ten minutes for our, pah, mission update."

Bethany watched the elf casually shift off the wall, stretch, and head seemingly casually for the door. One by one various other members of their little team drifted outside. None of them looked very eager; it had been three weeks now with no escape looking likely.

They were in higher spirits as they left their meeting place that night. Zevran even grabbed Merrill's hands and danced a little with her, both of them delighted that at last a ship had been found and they would be leaving this city of hidden danger.

Hawke smiled to herself, watching them with something akin to a mother's love; she was relieved too, but was restraining her own joy for when they were all on the ship and out to sea.

Tomorrow evening was the time, they'd decided. Gave them enough time to wrap up loose ends, gather some supplies and get on board without causing too much suspicion. The plan was to behave as if they were all travelers employing Varric's 'ferry', with any luck, no dockworkers would stick their noses in and work out that the group exactly matched up with the fleeing Champion's companions.

"Marian."

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and turned around. "Hello lover." Fenris went red, making her smirk. "Relax, no-one to overhear us out here." She whispered, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Are you happy, Fenris? Tomorrow night we'll be sleeping in our own quarters on a ship taking us home." She sighed softly and moved closer, resting her head against his shoulder.

Fenris did manage a small smile at that, stroking her ruby-red hair with one hand, "I'll be happy when we're far away from this city." He replied, then cleared his throat, "Marian, there's something I wanted to ask-"

"Betania, jou will dance too!" Zevran declared loudly, releasing Merrill from his impromptu jig (sending her tumbling against Isabella, who gladly took up the dance) and grabbing the younger Hawke's hands. Bethany laughed and nodded, the pair of them spinning about on the street like children.

Hawke laughed herself, shaking her head, "There's not even any music." She muttered.

Fenris inwardly cursed Zevran for distracting her, "I suspect they don't need any, but Marian-"

"…Shall we dance too?" Hawke asked suddenly, apparently not hearing Fenris' serious tone. Without waiting for an answer she seized his hands and dragged him over too, joining the other spinning pairs dancing to music that only existed inside their heads.

(A/N: ^^ Had to blag it a bit on the whole 'Dalish wedding' thing, hopefully I didn't make it sound too unbelievable.)