Just a drabble that popped into my head. Bioware owns these characters, not me!
Fenris pursed his lips as he tried to decipher the particularly annoying sentence in front of him. Okay, so the k is silent only sometimes. So would it be pronounced 'now' instead of kuh-now? Or was it pronounced 'no'? 'No' sounded right. Unless it was one of those words that meant another word in which Fenris had no memory of. Did it work with the sentence? What was it again?
Fenris grunted with annoyance as his strained eyes roved over the sentence several more times. Good Maker, if this sentence was a person he'd gladly slice it to ribbons. It was, unfortunately, a non sentient jumble of ink on a page, therefore un-killable. The fire did look rather inviting, however…
A light sigh drew him out of his book-murder plotting as he glanced up. Hawke was perched directly across from him on one of the few arm chairs that managed to survive their conquest of the shabby mansion the elf called home. She had in her hands several letters that she brought from her house, her brows knitted in confusion.
"Something wrong?" he rumbled.
She looked up, almost startled by the break of companionable silence. "Oh, it's…" She blew out a long breath, rubbing her eyes. "All these suitors," she mumbled into her hands as she straightened her back. He could hear a few pops.
"Suitors?" he asked, his tone sounding curiously amused, however the twisting of his gut was a whole other story.
"Mother's dead-set on getting me hitched now that the Hawke name carries some weight. I don't know how she's advertised it, but I've been getting letters by the bucket load from available noble bachelors. And not going to lie, none of them sound interesting."
Fenris slammed the book in his lap (partially out of anger for it's stupid sentences and partially for some other feeling he was having trouble to describe) and looked up at her. "How so?" he asked, his tone rather nonchalant.
She smirked. "They all sound like sticks in the mud. Listen to this, 'To the wonderful, heroic, beautiful, intelligent, punctual Marian Hawke.' Punctual? Who says that?" Fenris didn't know the proper way to greet in letters, so he merely shrugged.
"Anyway, it's not like I'm going to marry any of them. I'm only doing this to make Mother happy."
The amount of relief that washed over him was both unreasonable and wonderful. "Why is she so interested in you marrying?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Well, I do. She wants me to stop consorting with ruffians and start concentrating on becoming a decent wife so I can pop out some kids. You know, keep the blood line flowing," Hawke explained, shrugging.
Fenris examined her for a few seconds, wondering vaguely what her kids would look like. He quietly noted that her hips were well built for childbearing, but he shoved those thoughts deep into the back of his mind. "Consorting with ruffians?" he snorted.
"Yeah," she laughed, "says I spend way to much time with you guys for my own good."
A thought occurred to Fenris. "You spend a lot of time here," he noted. Not that he was complaining.
It was silent for a few seconds as the realization sunk in. "Huh, I guess you're right," Hawke said, smiling.
Gathering courage he didn't know he had, he asked, "Why is that?" His heart was pounding a bit too loud for his liking.
Hawke paused. "Anders is a bit too dramatic for my tastes," she explained, her lips pulling back into a smile that didn't hold the traces of innocence it usually did.
Fenris was flushed with feelings he hadn't felt in a long time. "Well good," he smiled warmly, "mine too."
