I Thought You Didn't Want Me

Avoiding the subject was Hundir's specialty. If a potentially personal question was brought up, it was always best to simply invoke the right of none of your blighted business and move on. Such a right was easy to come by when he was still a noble, as interrogating a prince not yet accused of treason simply wasn't an option. Keeping to oneself while a Warden, however, was much more difficult. Fellow Wardens-Alistair-often didn't know how to take a damn hint and leave him alone. Constant questioning about what the dwarven nobility was like, what the world looked like from four and a half feet off the ground, and if dwarves found short human girls cute. The answers were, of course, awful, awful, and I wouldn't know, but he was content to let the human simply ponder without an answer. Thankfully, the only other companions he received similar interrogations from were the redheaded human girl, the elf, and Oghren-though his interrogations were usually just so, about those rumors going around Orzammar about you... The giant, the witch, the golem, and the elderly mage were all much better at keeping their questions to themselves, but the elderly mage was good at springing questions upon him when he least expected it and in a manner that actually got him talking. Damn her motherly charm! At least she kept his answers to herself.

It'd been almost a year since he was thrown into the Deep Roads at this point, and Denerim had proved to be just as wonderful as he'd hoped it to be. Not because of the unique architecture-the flimsy human structures looked ready to collapse any second-nor the threat of darkspawn war finally coming to a concerning amount of the Surface, but because of the people. Well, one person in particular. The rest could die via the Archdemon for all he cared. Especially those Chantry harpies constantly hounding him for not giving a damn about their prophet.

"I still can't believe that you didn't say something earlier," Gorim said, looking over his tankard of ale at Hundir. The human tavern they were in was far from ideal, but everyone was grateful for the few days of rest before they set out to look for the alleged miracle ashes hidden in the Frostbacks. Everyone in Hundir's party of mismatched fools was thrilled about the break, content to put off a goal so long as they could watch their stone-faced leader blush and fawn over his former manservant. Especially the gossips of the group. The redhead, mage, and Alistair cooed, the elf attempted to offer his perverted advice, and Oghren looked more vindicated than any man Hundir had ever known.

Hundir tugged on his hair, fraying it between his thumb and forefinger. "I thought you didn't want me," he admitted in a quiet voice.

"I-" Gorim sighed. "I thought it would've been obvious I didn't mind us being more than friends, but..."

"Of course I didn't notice the obvious," Hundir said, cursing himself. "But I- Does this conversation really need to be had in the open?" He asked through clenched teeth, eyes flickering over to the table packed with three humans, an elf, and a dwarf.

"By all means, carry on," the redheaded human girl said, freckled cheek resting in her hand.

"By the Stone," he muttered, shaking his head. "I feel obligated to apologize for my terrible choices of companions," he said, looking back at Gorim. "But, in my defense, it was that human that insisted on picking up the strays for aid."

"He's lying," Alistair stage-whispered at Gorim, making him chuckle.

"They seem to like you," Gorim said, a knowing smile on his face.

"I didn't ask them to," Hundir said back, smiling a little.

"Well, it does seem that anyone who spends enough time with you comes to like you, my- Hundir," Gorim said. "I'm certainly proof, am I not?"