What a way to go

by onixiracri

Fenris contemplates the idea that the last thing he sees before he dies is Garrett Hawke. Short drabble, and by short I mean less than two hundred words. FenHawke.

"Hawke." There was no answer.

"Hawke," he tried again – louder this time, with frustration finding its way into his voice. With a silent sigh, Fenris gave up. He was too tired to fight it, to fight Hawke. It wasn't bad, really. He had been in far worse situations, many of which he couldn't even compare. Simply put, it was a bit too hard to breathe for his liking. He liked breathing. He also liked living, and the two were closely connected.

Fenris began to squirm, to try and worm his way out of the mage's hold but to no avail. He was stuck there. He'd probably die there, too. There were certainly worse ways to go, such as being stabbed, having his head ripped off, poison… the list could go on. But to die right at that moment, with Hawke being the last thing he saw, he could deal with that.

What Fenris could not deal with was how Hawke pulled him closer as he tried to roll over in his sleep, and how loudly he snored in his ear. Yes, he was definitely going to die there.