Something of a companion to 'Viciousness,' but with a totally different Hawke. I got the idea driving in my car and trying to figure out why Hawke is so special, what gives him/her the ability to face down any threat and survive it. I had the idea that Hawke was born without fear, and was going to make a oneshot character study, but as 'Viciousness' winds up, I realized I'm gonna miss this pairing. For all the Fenris/F!Hawke fans, including myself.
warnings: Act 1 spoilers? I presume anyone who's reading this has at least played that far, haha
The first time he sees her, his lips twist in a grim smile and he tears a man's heart from his chest, half-expecting that she will swoon or faint. But she gives him a sort of nod, almost in approval, and he finds himself apologizing for the slavers' numbers to this strange woman in her dark blue dress.
"I'm used to idiots trying to kill me," she laughs, and he stares at her and wonders how a mercenary can fight in a dress.
Another man might wax poetic about the loveliness of her delicate features and brilliant eyes. Still another might fixate on her charm, the easy laughter flowing from her lips like a brook and the encouragement she offers with every grin, her sharp mind and uncanny observational powers displayed with every joke. He can't look at her or speak with her and not appreciate these qualities, even admire them. But he is not compelled by her beauty or intelligence or humor.
His eyes meet hers and he feels a faint smirk cross his lips. "I am Fenris," he says by way of introduction, and he remains there talking to her and answering her questions for several minutes longer than he meant to, trying to determine what it is about her that draws his attention.
Before he can stop himself, he asks her help in defeating Denarius once and for all. Not because he believes himself incapable, but because he enjoys the sound of her clear laugh and he needs to know this woman, to understand why it is that the lyrium under his skin tingles with strange jolts he's never felt before as he looks at her. He needs her to come with him so he can understand why she's set him reeling against all good sense and every survival instinct he possesses.
He thrills at her fearlessness. Though they face many summoned monsters she faces them without any hint of anxiety, laughing as they appear out of thin air. The combination of deadly skill and a complete lack of fear make her dangerous without making her sloppy. Her poleax twists and spins, tearing through the demons, the motion never ceasing or hesitating and he must admit to being impressed at the way she moves in spite of her dress and at the brief flashes of her bare legs beneath when the fabric waves around her.
At one point a group of the creatures swarms her. For a moment he panics, his great blade slashing through the semi-solid flesh of ethereal foes and a moment later a terrible crack sounds, making him flinch with the memory of a whip. Yellow and purple arcs of electricity slam into the shades and they shriek as magic sears and melts them into foul-scented dust. He stares at her for a second and she grins in return, her fists alight with lightning.
His heart pounds, terror writhing in his gut that grows as he realizes that Denarius is gone. Unable to spend another moment surrounded by the scent of death and the memories of his master, he stalks outside and considers his situation. She follows a moment later and all of his fears and fury rush out to heap upon her.
Much as he wants her to lash out, to prove him right with another bolt of lightning, he's relieved when she just stands there with no expression, listening to his rant. Then she shrugs and makes some grinning quip about how she should have expected his reaction. His head aches and swims and almost lunges for her, but stops himself when he realizes that he does not know whether he meant to shake her or kiss her. It is unsettling, so he tries to shove coin at her instead.
"So you can starve to death with your new freedom?" she asks, arching a sardonic brow. That fearless mage waves his pouch away even as her dwarf companion looks ready to cry. She folds her arms. "I'm planning an expedition. If you don't mind working with evil, frightening mages like me, the coin ought to be good." His eyes dart to the dwarf's vigorous nod.
"If you have need of me, I am at your disposal," he answers.
He doesn't realize for years that he sealed his fate with those words.
The warriors she's met before are meatheads, most of them about half as smart as the blades they wield. He seems to know a bit about everything, though. He moves with grace and precision, slashing through enemies with surgical strikes that reveal an extensive knowledge of human anatomy. He charges forward without reservation, without hesitation. His fearlessness inspires her and she finds herself laughing in battle, thrilled at his courage. Each time she watches him fight, she can't help staring a bit at the flex of his taut muscles and the twisting of the lyrium on his skin and the silver sweep of his blade.
When she first visits him to check in on him, he flings a bottle against the wall and she laughs. He looks confused, even angry at her reaction, but by the end of the night he's promising to work on his flattery and she has a warm flush spreading from her cheeks, down her neck and over her chest. So she keeps coming back, dragging him out of that musty mansion at every opportunity.
Though he accompanies her several days a week on mercenary work, Fenris insists on walking her home afterward and meeting her at her uncle's crumbling doorstep to walk her to the Hanged Man for their gang's weekly game of Wicked Grace. After a few months she comes to expect his presence, and paces restless around the small hovel, stopping to check her hair or straighten her robes when she sees a looking glass. Carver laughs at her and her mother gets a knowing smile, while Gamlen gets sour until he finds a bottle.
It comes as a surprise when he asks her why she never comes to his house, so much so that she blinks at him with large, owlish eyes for a moment before laughing. "Every time I try, I get winded halfway up the steps and have to turn back," she grins. He raises a brow at her, shaking his head as if to hide the barely-perceptible smirk crossing his lips.
After that, it becomes a tradition. He walks her to Wicked Grace, and the next night she walks up to his house and they sit drinking wine. He has a casual habit of breaking things at every opportunity, and when she comments that it looks like fun, he presses an expensive-looking, if hideous, vase into her hands. "Try it," he says, his gauntlets snaking away before her fingers can brush the metal. She flings the vase against the wall, laughing as it explodes into fragments, and concedes that it is fun. From that night on, they break things together, even if it's just the bottle of wine they drink.
Aside from that first night snarling at her for being a mage, they do not argue much. She's well-aware of how dangerous blood magic and demons are, and knows better than to trust such mages. So when she tells him that she is ready for the Deep Roads and that she intends to bring her brother and Anders and Varric, his furious reaction comes as a surprise. He calls her a fool and screams himself hoarse for almost an hour. When she leaves, her hands shake. They don't see one another until the morning that the expedition leaves. He glares at her through Bartrand's speech and her mother's attempt at intervention.
Before she can go, he approaches her and thrusts a bottle of wine at her. Their eyes meet for a second and as she starts to grin at him, he turns on his heel and storms off.
When Carver's struck with the Blight, she vows every manner of revenge on Bartrand that she can envision, including sending Varric to the Wardens so he knows how it feels to lose his family like that. Her friends offer to help her support him but she refuses, staggering under her brother's weight. The physical exertion distracts her from the pounding terror raging through her. She tries to be calm, to be as fearless as Fenris, but then the commander takes Carver away and she barely has a chance to hug him goodbye.
Once she's back in Kirkwall, after enduring her mother's tears and her uncle's unsubtle queries about the yields of the expedition, she marches up to Hightown with her spine ramrod-straight and doesn't stop walking until she stands at his door.
He lets her in and stares at her for a long moment before motioning her inside. She takes a few steps into the massive front hallway and, spying a horrific statue in the corner, lets loose all the rage and fear that's dogged her through the last few weeks. Lightning sears from her fingers and across her knuckles, and she shoots at the statue long after it's been melted into a lump.
Despite her display, he never says a word.
A/N I deliberately re-did the 'Viciousness' intro. We'll see how smutty this one gets... ;-)