Title: Hearsay
Fandom: Dragon Age
Rating: T
Length: 440 words
Content notes: Elf-racism.
Author notes: N/A
Summary: Hawke’s upper-class neighbours discuss her private life. Some, for their own ends.

“Have you seen the tattooed elf that follows Lady Amell around?” asked Lady Dulci De Launcet. She was perched on a cushion in Lady Maura Arenberg’s internal courtyard. Nearby, a fountain gently splashed into its bowl, providing a comforting level of background noise.

“Hasn’t everyone?” said Lady Phyllis Reinhardt, accepting a cup of coffee from a servant with a smile of thanks. “He’s everywhere she goes, like a second shadow.”

“More like a dog,” said Maura with a scowl.

Dulci dropped a lump of sugar into her own cup. “Funny you should say that,” she said. “You know how Fereldans love their dogs…” she trailed off with a meaningful look to the other ladies.

“Why, Dulci, are you saying there is something untoward going on there?” said Phyllis.

“Have you not seen the way he looks at her?” said Dulci. “Like a drowning man looks at the shore.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds rather romantic,” said Phyllis, and picked up her fan. The small courtyard was getting warm as the sun climbed in the sky.

“I had wondered that myself," said Maura. She glanced over towards the imposing walls of the Amell Estate. “I have seen him in her bedroom rather too many times.”

“He is her garde du corps,” said Phyllis mildly.

“As if she couldn’t find a better bodyguard than a knife-ear,” said Maura.

“He’s also rather good looking, for an elf,” said Dulci. “And I have heard that she has spurned every offer of marriage.” She glanced over at Phyllis. Her face was carefully blank.

“What, because of the elf?” Maura scoffed.

“It would have been politically expedient for her to have allied with one of the houses who offered their sons,” said Phyllis stiffly. “Someone with a solid lineage, without magic, to shore up her bloodline.”

Dulci smiled sweetly and said, with a twinkle in her eye, “After all, it’s not like she couldn’t have married and had her elf on the side.”

“As if any house would tolerate that!” said Maura. “Can you just imagine? Their heir could be half knife-ear!”

Phyllis was looking alarmed, so Dulci leaned over and gently patted the older woman's arm. “This is all just rumour, of course. We may be doing Lady Amell a disservice.”

“Of course,” Phyllis said, and seemed to make a conscious effort to settle herself as she took a sip of her coffee. “Just gossip.”

As if changing the subject, Dulci asked, “By the way, Phyllis, how is your son? Fifi and Babette have such fond memories of dancing with him at Chateau Haine...”