A/N: I can't start off with a normal Dragon Age story, no, I have to go straight for something weird and random. Bear with it, though, and hopefully you'll enjoy it. I'd like to thank the wonderful Witchy Bee for being a very helpful and articulate beta. On with the show, as it were!

Sword and Shield

Aveline had, in her own honest opinion, the most horribly annoying habit of falling for men she was never meant to have. And terribly, too, for that matter; when she first started courting Wesley, she felt as if she were constantly under a giant magnifying glass; as if he was scrutinising her every move, making her feel naked and awkward.

That passed with marriage, of course, though they were barely out of the honeymoon stage when he was... killed. Aveline would tell herself it way the Maker's way, that they were never meant to be. Surely the Maker would not be so cruel as to take him away for no reason. After all, she felt that there was no pain worse than that of losing the one you love before their time.

And then there was the mess with Donnic, something Hawke unfortunately got her fingers into. So into it, in fact, that when Donnic requested a transfer out of Kirkwall and Aveline couldn't bring herself to say 'no, stay with me, you will learn to love me', it was Hawke that she ran to. It was possibly the lowest point in her life, curled up in the younger woman's lap, sobbing like a young maiden who had her heart crushed by a boy she fancied. Luckily Hawke never told anyone of it outside of hints and joking snarks. Hawke was a good friend that way.

When Donnic left, Aveline told herself that it was the fraternisation rules that stopped her – an affair with a superior officer, how scandalous that would be! – That it was never meant to happen. She would have been demoted – he likely would have been fired. It was better this way.

For the longest time, she swore another would come her way. One she could hold on to for the rest of forever, one that was for her, Maker forbid she go through another failed romance. And then, only a few weeks after Donnic left, she suddenly stopped believing. It hit her like a brick to the head – she would see a loving couple out in the street, and the jealousy would be there still, but the small spark of hope that usually accompanied it never came.

She had become a cranky old ninny, alone and morbid. Wesley wouldn't have liked her like this. She wanted to blame him, for leaving her. She didn't though.

Hawke hadn't taken her on what she called her 'adventures' in some time. With her new position, it would have been too difficult to be out fighting raiders and darkspawn and all manner of beast, both in and out of the city. With all the spare time she had now, Aveline spent a good majority of it in her small garden, planting a variety of flowers and tending to them. It had always been an interest of hers; she would constantly point out various flowers and herbs to Hawke on her travels, eagerly allowing Hawke to take them, hoping the young woman would share her interest. She never did, however, beyond her interesting ability to trick Aveline by using her almost obsessive knowledge of flora to discover new types of plants for her own personal gain. Aveline didn't hold it against her; Hawke wasn't a selfish woman, just a woman with little interest in plants. However, Hawke was a very helpful woman, and when asked by Solivitus, the herbalist from the Gallows, to gather a variety of rare herbs, it was Aveline she went to first.

"Av, please," Hawke pleaded, bending slightly as she stomped her foot on the ground in a strange parody of a child's tantrum. Not looking up from her desk Aveline tutted, dipping her quill into the inkwell and attempting to finish her report. "There's no way I'll be able to spot these things without you. And I barely ask you to do anything for me!" Sighing, the older woman dropped her quill, stood and grabbed her weapon from the corner.

"Quickly, now. I have a real job, unlike some people I know." Hawke practically hopped with excitement, letting out an almost unperceivable squeal before calming herself.

"Of course. Let's get this show on the road." Stepping out of the door Hawke immediately side stepped, for some reason Aveline could quite—

Oh. Maybe it was the tall, spiky-armour covered elf standing in the doorway.

Bumping into him with an audible clang Aveline fell back slightly, blinking in surprise. The elf – Fenris, Aveline surmised – had barely moved, though looked down at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Smooth, Av." Hawke chuckled from around Fenris' armoured shoulder. The older woman shot her an incredulous look.

"I apologise for expecting the doorway to be clear." She sidestepped, as Hawke did, and stood hands on her hips before the shorter woman. "And why, exactly, couldn't you warn me?" Hawke chuckled again, and began leading the group.

"It's more fun this way. I will warn you about Fenris, though, I've told him he has to protect the two innocent damsels while they're out collecting pretty flowers." It was Aveline's turn to raise a brow, this time up at the elf by her side.

"It's true. Those were her exact words."

"Oh? What part of protecting the innocent damsels sounded like fun?"

"Mostly trying to imagine either of you as an innocent damsel." This caused Hawke to laugh her squeaky, childlike laugh, head thrown back in mirth.

"I thought we'd all have a jolly good time! Now come on, before it gets dark."

Neither the elf nor the red headed woman bothered to tell her that night would not fall for another twelve hours – Hawke was stubbornly determined, and slowed for no one.

Aveline should have expected Hawke to bound off the moment they got to the Wounded Coast; with the words 'blue bloom, curled stem' on her tongue she hopped off in search of Harlot's Blush, leaving Aveline kneeling in front of a patch of particularly wild elfroot (for her own use, of course) and Fenris standing somewhat awkwardly nearby.

It had never occurred to her, but Aveline had never been alone with Fenris before. She had barely spoken to him at all, really, and never without Hawke's aid in starting the conversation; from what she had gathered, both had social limitations, be it from incurable social awkwardness on her part, or a twisted view of the world on his. However she could not control the urge to fill the silence with words – if not to become friends, then to at least have some kind of mutual respect for each other. However she could think of nothing to say outside of what she had in common with Hawke.

It seemed every person she knew only spoke to her because of her job, or Hawke.

"Are you going to ask about the markings, or some other trivial part of my past?" His voice was deep and rough, but also emotionless to some degree, as though many others had started conversations through the same route. Aveline did not look up, but shrugged her shoulders.

"Would you give me a different answer to that which you gave the others?" A breath of air, almost like a weak chuckle, came from him. Funnily enough, he sounded closer than she remembered him being before.

"Only if you asked different questions." Carefully placing the elfroot in her bag, Aveline attempted to keep a veil of calm indifference, a simple task when she did not have to meet his eyes.

"I can't promise that. I'm unsurprisingly bland." Standing, she adjusted her bag. Still too timid to face him. She was doing so well thus far; conversation came easier with him than it had come with any other she had met in Kirkwall. She wouldn't ruin that by balking when faced with him.

"Then maybe it would be better if you didn't ask."

"I won't pretend I understand what you've been through. I doubt anyone can. But you're letting it control who you are. If you don't want people to talk about your past, give them something else to talk about."

"Like what exactly?" Suddenly he was close, very close, so near to her she could feel him behind her. It was as if her social awkwardness had given her the ability to sense when people entered her personal space – or maybe it was just the heat of his body she could feel though the thin armour on her back.

"I-"

"Oh, I don't know, that maybe you have a secret affinity for dance, or you collect stamps or something. There's no limit to the fun you could have."

Ah. Hawke was back. Fenris was instantly a few steps away as Hawke strutted around the rocky cliffs, a ring of blue flowers resting on her head like a crown. Aveline chuckled and Fenris sighed as Hawke walked along the path as if it were a catwalk, striking a pose once she reached the pair. Aveline smirked. The younger woman's demeanour changed near instantly, from a cheeky woman to a pouting child.

"Oh, I was wrong. I thought you two would be more fun than this. I should have brought Isabela."

It was no secret Hawke liked Fenris – in a childlike, fascinated kind of way that they all hoped would run dry before it cause complications within the group – but this had, for some reason, caused Aveline to ignore him before. She supposed it was some rule of friendship, in the beginning; don't know an interest in your friends' crushes. She couldn't ever imagine fighting with Hawke over any man. Though ever since the Herbalist's 'adventure', the Guard-Captain felt hyper aware of Fenris' presence.

Where she wouldn't have noticed him before, he now seemed to be everywhere – two seats away at the Hanged Man, nursing a mug of ale, hunched over but somehow still participating in the conversation; swinging his great sword through the air, slicing at the raiders only a few meters from her back; walking across the Viscount's Keep with Hawke, so close but so far away, on his way to accept some kind of job or another with the ever excitable Ferelden girl. Aveline often wondered if he was quite as aware of her; if he always had been, if he was that way for everyone, hyper aware and all seeing.

In paying so much attention to Fenris, however, Aveline was able to see how uninterested he was in Hawke. She wasn't the most subtle when it came to advances, though she certainly did try for him; and while it was obvious to Aveline that he wasn't interested, Hawke seemed to think she was getting somewhere with him. Her seemingly relentless attempts to seduce him were wearing on Fenris, however, as of recently he had become quite edgy and short-tempered with her.

"I just can't figure out what I'm doing wrong, Av." Whined the young Ferelden. They were cooped up in the Guard-Captain's office, long after the sun had set, sipping a deep maroon wine out of flimsy glasses and all together acting like they belonged to one of the highest echelons of society. Which, interestingly enough, they did.

"Maybe it's just not meant to be." offered Aveline, shrugging weakly through the sluggish buzz the wine had given her once they got through the second bottle together.

"What?" Squeaked Hawke, jumping forward in her seat. The two legs that were hovering midair before slammed into the ground, causing Aveline to flinch. "No! He's just, uh, playing hard to get or something."

"Hawke," Aveline started, reaching out for her friend's hand, "You can trust me on this. If there's one thing I know about, it's failed romances. And I think you have one." Every so slowly, but so close that Aveline could see each minute change, Hawke's face curled from her normal stubborn smirk to a confused look, and then onto a sad pout. Her eyebrows fell as her eyes watered and her lips turned down, and all Aveline could this was 'oh shit, I've stuffed up.'

"Oh, you're right!" Bawled the drunken Hawke. Aveline awkwardly patted her shoulder. "I can't believe how stupid I've been! Oh, I've been such a fool and-" Her watery eyes widened as she looked at Aveline. "I've been making a fool of myself, haven't I? He must think I'm a right tit for trying to woo him like that." Chuckling, the Guard-Captain leant back.

"Well, you have been a bit of a tit."

"I kno—hey!"

After a while longer of helping Hawke laugh away her pain, the older woman offered to walk her home. With her new mansion in Hightown it was a lot less necessary that when Hawke lived in Lowtown, but Aveline was nothing if not protective of her friend.

Her only friend.

Oh, she's such a depressing drunk.

Leaving the young Hawke is Bodhan's capable hands, ensuring him they ran into no trouble, including trouble from the girl herself; Aveline began the significantly longer walk back to her quarters in the barracks.

Hightown seemed stretched out before her, empty and very lonely without her friend near her. However she did not hurry, as she did on other nights; perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps the strangeness of the past few days, or even the knowledge that Hawke was no longer interested, that had Aveline approach Fenris' home, standing directly in front of the door but not doing anything.

Staring at the door, surrounded by vines and plants, Aveline's mind went blank. Why was she here? She felt like she was going to do something, up to the point where she actually got to the door. This was a really bad idea. She should just leave before anyone sees her.

"Are you going to knock, or just stare at the door all day?" Spinning about on her heel with surprising grace for a drunk, the red headed woman caught sight of the mansion's resident, leaning against the wall beside her, partially hidden by the plant growing off the walls surface.

"I don't know." she sputtered. It occurred to her this was the first time they had spoken alone, face to face. "I didn't see you there."

"Clearly." He pushed off of the wall, stepping closer. "Though it's nice to see you're honest with me." Aveline took a step back, closer to the door, as the elf stalked towards her.

Aveline cleared her throat. "I don't see any reason why I shouldn't be." Suddenly she was pressed back against the door, which was cold for some reason – she wasn't wearing her armour, that was it, just the finery supplied for working in the office. Who decided she couldn't wear her armour while doing paperwork anymore?

It didn't occur to her how fantastic that decision was until Fenris was very, very close, far closer than they could have been if either of them was still wearing their armour.

Aveline chuckled inwardly at the thought that Fenris ever did take off his armour.

With the back of her head pressed against the door, Aveline had little else to look at than Fenris' face, very closer to her but apparently just observing, as one would a painting or a statue.

"Not many people are so honest with me, now. They like to hide behind cloaks of understanding and sympathy." His very deep, very clear green eyes bored into hers, though she couldn't seem to read any emotion there. "But not you."

Weakly she nodded, palms pressed flat against the door behind her. Fenris' head moved to the left, so he could lean closer to her ear.

"It's comforting, talking to you. Because you and I, in some ways, are on the same level." She held back a shiver as his warm breath brushed against his ear. The slightest move left her cheek pressed against his.

"How so?" She breathed. He chuckled. He seemed to do that a lot.

"It seems I am the only one who knows exactly what you want from others." He tilted his head, moving his mouth closer to her ear, every movement so clear to her and yet not awkward or observed as movements such as this had been before. "And somehow, you seem to know exactly what I want from you."

Wow, her mind just went somewhere very dirty.

And suddenly he pulled back, hands on her shoulders, eyes boring into hers again only this time with so much emotions, so many swirling together into his gaze that she could not possibly figure them all out in the time it took him to step back and look away. His voice again took on the monotone he used, as if it were a guard against others.

"I doubt you'll be able to get back to your quarters without your key." Her hands flew to her pockets.

Andraste's tits, she'd left it in her office. She sighed, looking off towards where she speculated the barracks to be and tried to formulate a way to get in without breaking in.

"Come with me." Fenris commanded. Aveline frowned with confusion, still feeling blurred around the edges but the wine she had consumed. "I'm not letting you stay out here feeling sorry for yourself." And the door behind her opened and she was gently pushed in, and one thought went through her head—

Aveline had, in her own honest opinion, the most sickeningly wonderful habit of falling for men she was never meant to have.