AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had an idea that Fenris and F-Hawke's "night of passion" produced a child... Somehow this would be unknown to Fenris until the child's birth. The story ends up being pretty angsty. It's my first attempt at fanfic of any kind. Short, one-shot, sad.
Marian Hawke is sitting up in bed as she holds a bundle close to her. She looks terrified.
Fenris stands before her for several minutes without speaking. He does not know what to say or do, but, still, he stares.
A weak cry emerges from the bundle. A tiny face looks upwards. It has small green eyes and a head full of black hair. Its porcelain skin is tainted by gray-blue lips.
She speaks at last. "This is our son, but... He isn't breathing right. He is so pale, so weak. I... I asked Anders for help, and he said there was nothing more he could do."
Fenris replies, "I have a son? How could you-? Why didn't-? May I hold him?"
She nods, gently handing over the infant to his father's arms.
As he stares at the baby's face, he can see so many of his own features created anew in this child. It seems a fantasy, this chance to live a once-dreamed-of-life. He asks the baby, "What shall I call you, little one? Do you have a name?"
The mother whispers, "I thought... perhaps you could give him a name. If you want to be a part of his life?"
A smile grows across the man's face. "It would be an honor... and a pleasure. I will give the name some thought."
The infant coughs and struggles to breathe. The smile on the man's face becomes a fearful wince. He hands the child back to its mother and watches her try to hide her concern.
He says, "Will he live a normal life?"
Marian shakes her head.
Fenris asks, "How long...?"
She whispers, "I fear he will not make it through the night."
He curses quietly and adds, "We must give him a name before it's too late."
She puts the baby into the bassinet beside the bed.
Fenris paces around the room for a moment, and then he stops by the head of the bed. "We shall call him Malcolm, after your father."
Marian nods. "Thank you. That is very kind." The woman known as a fierce warrior seems very frail.
He kneels at the bedside and asks in a whisper, "Why would you hide this from me- the baby? Were you ashamed of... that night? Do you hate me?"
She shakes her head. "This is not the time for this discussion. I will say... I have never hated you."
Fenris replies, "That is more acceptance than I deserve."