AN: So I've read many Fenris/Hawke fics and I love them all - they're sexy, fun, sad and so very sightful. I love the pairing and decided to try for something a little less dramatic than what I usually do. I wanted to know what happens when saving the world is over and all that is left is the future - when a relationship matures into something beautiful.

At least...that was the goal :)

Let me know what you think - feedback in any way, shape or form is always greatly appreciated! And as always, I don't own anything you recognize!

~Voi

Their daughter was born on the last day of the fertile season amidst the last of the rain swollen clouds and rainbows. The birthing had been a lengthy process, and by the time it finished, Hawke had been both pale and sweat soaked, nearly insensate. At her side sat the man she had taken as lover those many years ago. Fenris, the Tevinter slave who defied his master had found freedom in the arms of the Champion, who herself was the last of her family. They were alone no longer, and now they had begun a small family of their own.

"Fenris?"

Her voice was a whispery caress as she called him closer, hands still trembling from the intensity of emotion, panic, fear, happiness. Her chest rose and fell in great shuddering breaths as she sought to regain her strength from the many hours of exertion.

Beside her, a warm hand slipped into her own, the other gently pressing a cool damp cloth to her forehead.

"Hush Hawke, now is not the time for words."

He chided her as he pushed back the sweat-soaked bangs and caressed her cheek, "You did magnificently."

"But the baby…"

Marian seemed so natural a mother that it was a wonder they had waited so long. The elf watched her face a moment longer before he turned his head to where the midwife was tending the squalling child, watched the small limbs pump up and down with fragile grace.

"A girl…we have a daughter."

The barest hint of a smile flickered across the exhausted champion's face as she closed her eyes. Turning back to the mother of his child, Fenris watched her tenderly, smiling ever so slightly when he felt her squeeze his hand.

"Serah Fenris?"

The midwife approached the bed, in her arms carrying the precious bundle so delicately wrapped in crème and pink blankets. Already he could hear the fussy sounds his daughter was making, and though he knew he might one day groan at such noise, Fenris could not help but be charmed. Still, when the elder woman sought to place the delicate babe in his embrace, Fenris felt a sudden rush of panic, uncertainty.

Would he be able to hold so fragile a gift? Was he capable of being a father?

He could not remember his own father, and even after all these years there were many mysteries left unsolved from his past. What if…

The warm caress of a hand on his neck, the whispered words of encouragement in his ear startled him from his reverie. And as he turned to find his lover's encouraging smile, felt the soft press of her lips to the corner of his mouth, Fenris was reminded that he was no longer alone.

"Settle your arms like this," slender hands pushed his arms into the right shape, a cradle for their child. Marian smiled ever more widely as she leaned against his back, rubbing slow circles into his back, easing the tension in his muscles.

"I used to carry Bethany and Carver around with me everywhere when they were babies." Her voice was low, hypnotic as she continued to draw him into the comforting thrum of her voice. "It's just a matter of keeping them close…babies know you don't want to drop them."

And so it was that Fenris found himself holding his daughter, finding that the moment she rested fully in his arms he could see little else but the exquisite gem in his arms.

"She's perfect."

He breathed the words reverently and Hawke chuckled at the shock on his face, the undiluted surprise and adoration that so quickly followed behind.

And indeed Fenris was right, for their daughter had all ten fingers and toes, each perfectly formed and baby soft. Leandry Hawke (for Fenris insisted the infant have a last name), child of the Champion and her lover, was a perfect blend of both her parents. Human though she was, she had inherited her father's tanned beauty and straight nose. She would also, no doubt, inherit her father's slim build, a mark of her elven heritage. Her small tuft of hair was not truly the coloring of her mother, but it was several shades lighter, and that too was a mark of her father's lineage. The long eye lashes and pink mouth however were gifts of her matriarchal line, and Fenris smiled in amusement that their daughter already seemed to pout in much the same way as her mother.

It would be some time before Leandry would open her eyes, but Hawke hoped for eyes as delicate green as those of her lover. It would, no doubt, make Isabela jealous if nothing else.

Any other observations would have to wait however, as the small infant began to whimper in earnest, squirming until she had freed her small fists.

"Hawke…"

Fenris hesitated once more, caught between the desire to protect his daughter and not knowing what to do to sooth the little girls' temper.

"No doubt she is hungry." Hawke smiled as she untied the loose closure of her shirt, leaning back to accept the squalling bundle and settling her to her breast to nurse. "Poor thing."

Cooing softly, she continued to sooth her daughter until the small cries had stopped and the infant suckled hungrily, oblivious to all else. It was only then, with the child contently occupied, that the two newly made parents truly had a private moment to themselves.

Hawke eyed her lover as her child suckled, admiring the tan skin and taut muscles of his arms, his throat, the surprisingly slender shape of his hands left bare for this past year as he had cared for her. She could still remember the heat of his hands as he had stroked her swollen abdomen, traced invisible words across her skin. Unexpectedly Hawke felt her throat tighten with emotion. Fenris had not known how to read when first they had met, but all throughout his pregnancy he had used his new learning to write a novel of love on her skin, across their child.

But sometimes it was not tenderness that would come to her bed in the evenings. Hawke's mind rushed through the many encounters, felt the blood thrum in her ears as she thought of those memories too. He had been a most ardent lover throughout her pregnancy, even at the last, it had surprised even her.

His dark chuckled rippled in the air, clearing the memories and replacing them with an image of his still devastatingly handsome face. Half curled around her as he was, there was no mistaking the husky rumble of his voice in her ear.

"If you keep looking at me like that I fear Leandry's little sibling will come before she has time to be properly spoiled by the both of us."

Fenris' voice teased as he caught the look in her eye, but there was a flicker of heat – of serious intent- locked behind those green eyes. And though Hawke told herself it was the hormones, there was no helping the way her cheeks flushed and her heart raced.

"It is a good thing then that Leandry is here to see her position protected." Marian responded, eyes watching her lover before he bent forward to demand a searing kiss that left stole her breath away.

"Hmmm…" His finger traced the edge of her trembling lip as he withdrew for but a moment, his own curving upward with promise "…A very good thing."

She fell asleep to the feel of his soft kisses.

It was late in the evening when next Marian woke, hungry but otherwise content. At her side, in a beautiful bassinet that Sebastian had delivered for the occasion, Leandry slept gurgling softly in that small baby language that would no doubt remain a mystery forever.

Reaching out blindly, Marian found the sheets beside her only the slightest bit warm, and she knew her lover had disappeared, though where she couldn't fathom.

"Fenris?"

Calling out softly so as not to wake the sleeping infant Hawke pushed herself into a seated position, her eyes straining in the dim light. All around her the shadows provided no answer, but there just beside the window – Marian leaned forward, squinting.

"Fenris?"

He caught the curtain as he turned, silvery moonlight filtering into the small room in great beam of ethereal glow. She had known him to be a beautiful man, but never before had Marian felt herself so entirely surprised by the way he looked now. Quiet, contemplative, in his hand was the sash he had taken from her bed those many years ago. It may have been near purple in the strange light, but she would have recognized that bit of cloth anywhere.

"Marian."

Moving slowly, languidly, he crossed the room to her side. Pausing a moment, hesitating, he placed the cloth between them. He hid his expression as he smoothed the softness of scarlet, and it was only when her hand reached out to touch his own that he looked at her.

Cupping her face in his hands, smoothing her hair before he traced the line of her jaw, Fenris whispered her name again, reverently. It was an action she was familiar with, but something was different in his voice, a strain that she had not heard since before Danarius' death.

"Fenris?" She tried but could not keep the confusion from her voice, "Are you alright?"

"It is you who have just had our child, not I." He smiled in the darkness, his expression illuminated in the moonlight, "But I am fine."

"Then what is-"

And then she found out why he had placed her token in between them, for no sooner had she begun to speak when he withdrew the silver band from beneath her scarlet favor.

"Marry me, Hawke."

He had never been one for ceremony, a man of few words and a reserve many found unnerving. But as Marian watched the emotions flash across his face, the hopefulness, the insecurity, the love that he had borne for her these many years, she knew with all the certainty she possessed what her response would be.

"Of course."

And then she was crying, laughing, sobbing into his shoulder as he chuckled and pulled her close, burying his own face into her neck as he kept her protected in his warm embrace.

Their lives would never be the same, and there was no telling what the Maker had in store for the Champion of Kirkwall and the man she would now call husband. But as she closed her eyes for the night, cradled against the body of the man who had loved her unconditionally for so long, Hawke could do little more than smile.

She had received gifts beyond compare, worth more than any title and better than any mansion. And it was these gifts, that made the future that much brighter, her precious fragile gifts.