***Author's Note***
Just a tiny one-shot that came to me after a quiet day at work.
I wrote it very quickly so I'm sorry if there are any inconsistencies and spelling mistakes though I have tried to catch them and correct them.
Please leave a review, tyvm :)
Enjoy!
In which Fenris Sleepwalks
It was the night after the siege on Kirkwall from the Qunari. Hawke was now Champion of Kirkwall and the rebuilding of their favourite haunts was underway. Hawke was resting a swollen foot and broken arm in a chair, but he used this position to delegate the cleaning of the Hanged Man, much to Varric's ire. Drinks were flowing freely from the bartender as thanks for not only saving the city, but for helping with the restoration of his bar. Many patrons had had the same idea and were busy righting tables and throwing out unusable shards of furniture, broken cups, and bodies of the less fortunate. It was grim work, but after the buzz of the alcohol reared its head, it got a little easier, even if it was taking a long time.
Fenris and Aveline chaffed under their heavy armour, unwilling to remove it, "just in case", Aveline had said. Hawke had rolled his fiery eyes but let it pass, comfortable in his loose cotton clothes. Merrill and Anders were arguing over the positioning of the new furniture and the decoration. The bar tender had assured them that center pieces of flowers were unnecessary and would, in fact, muddy the already seedy reputation of the Hanged Man. Varric and Isabela had barked a laugh at that and hurriedly followed the mages around, altering what they had done so that it looked just the same as it had done before the siege.
Kirkwall had taken a lot of damage from the Qunari and the people trying to defend themselves, houses had been burnt to the ground, shattering holes were in the mortar, and cracks were in the stone. People had died on both sides of the fights that had taken over the entire city; entire families had been eradicated without discrimination if they didn't decide to convert. As always, the poor had taken the brunt of it, the rich and important had been abducted and taken to the Viscount's throne room where even more damage has to been taken care of. Not only materialistically, but politically after the death of the Viscount at the hands of the Arishok. All over a book. Granted, it was a very important book in the Qunari's eyes, the Tome of Koslun, that had been stolen by the pirate in their midst and then stolen again. It would take years for the damage to be reversed, deaths to be grieved, injuries to heal, and a new leader would have to be appointed.
Isabela had returned the Tome, hoping that would be the end of her years of running from the Qun, but the Arishok demanded justice. She had committed a crime against the Qunari and would be judged by them. The Arishok had spoken to only Hawke deciding him to be basalit-an – worthy of respect. Hawke had decided to fight the Arishok for the pirates freedom, the room had scattered, the majority of the nobles hiding behind Hawke's team as they looked on in awe. The Arishok was much stronger than Hawke, his height and broadness dwarfed the man, his axe was the size of his foe as he held it negligently in one hand. Hawke got into his stance, pulling his staff from his back and tapping the butt of it against the marble ground. The staff ignited, and the fight began.
It had been long and grueling, the Arishok was winning by sheer force and Hawke's willpower was failing him. Fenris and Isabela had tried to run forward to help. Screaming at him to get up and win, but they were held back by the Antam. The axe fell, its decent sending a winded whistle through the suddenly silent room. Fenris shut his eyes, unwilling to watch, as the others could not look away.
And then, there was a sudden slow dragging feeling, warm air was pulled toward the fight, leaving the room in a cold shadow. A metallic tang hit them, and the team watched Hawke drag a bloody finger across his face as a red glow surrounded him. Merril and Anders gasped and Fenris felt sick.
Hawke stood and finished the Arishok with sudden power and speed. Blood magic had won the fight.
Fenris looked over at Hawke as he finished setting a chair straight. He didn't seem any different, still his smiling snarky self, his arm propped up as he waited for the bone to finish setting under the watchful eye of Anders, his foot perched on a table, a cup of ale poised at his mouth as he listened to Merrill chirp at him. The only thing that had changed was his eyes, they seemed darker somehow, and the fiery amber seemed redder. Older. The eyes met his and he shivered, turning away quickly.
Hawke had stepped over a line, a line that Fenris was sure he wouldn't be able to come back over from. He felt bad that he had turned away but he just couldn't look at him. His confidence had been shaken and he was worried that he had been right all along, all mages are the same. They all seek out demons eventually, they all become corrupt from the lure of more power. Merrill had, Anders had, and now Hawke too. It hurt, a burning feeling in his chest that bubbled and roiled, a blurred sound bounced around his skull, and a sticky lump was stuck at the back of his throat. He felt like crying, bawling on the ground and slamming his fists like a child. The one person he completely trusted, his best friend and lover, had proven his greatest worry right.
What else annoyed him was the fact that no one else seemed disturbed by this. Merrill was practically bouncing with joy at the thought of someone else being like her, Anders shrugged his shoulders and carried on, and the others hadn't reacted one way or another. How could they not see!? How could they not see that everything was different now? Hawke was different? Fenris wanted to turn away and run and keep running until Kirkwall was a distant memory, his friends were a distant memory, Hawke was…
But no, he would stay. He would stay to protect the people of Kirkwall from the demon Hawke may become. He would be powerful, unstoppable, and if he died stopping him, it would be better than living without him.
They all began finishing up and began to file out the door to head up to Hightown, Hawke's mansion had been raided during the night and it seemed best to stick together until the city folk had settled. People were still rioting and causing havoc even as they walked up the long staircase that led to the markets. Fenris watched Hawke's back as he was carried between Aveline and Anders, and orange eyes glanced back at him with a frown. Pools of hurt swam there, sadness and worry, because Fenris had turned away, or because he regretted his choices?
A wave of guilt and worry flooded over the elf, he didn't want to hurt Hawke, he couldn't. Blood magic had left a scar inside Fenris that had been ripped anew when Hawke had resorted to it, he couldn't find a way to look past it.
They entered the Hawke-Amell estate, the foyer was a mess with papers and furniture strewn around. Hawke groaned as he bent and picked up a portrait of his mother, returning it to its pride of place on the wall above the bench that Fenris had sat on many times. The likeness was amazing, grey eyes smiled down at them even if that smile was not evident on pastel pink lips. He missed her, they all did, her gentle humming would fill the estate as she baked or read. It was quiet and cold without her here.
Without a word, everyone began cleaning, the dwarves and elf girl Hawke had rescued and hired had done their best but it seemed they were still shaken from last night. They had hidden in the underground passageway that led to Anders' clinic with Luca the dog when the Qunari had broken in. Hawke waved them away to bed with a quiet word and a smile.
"We'll do this."
"But, sir-"
He held up his hands, "No, no! I insist, you've all done too much, rest."
His household nodded and waved goodnight. The dwarf's rooms were in the cellar, a large old wine room that Hawke had converted for their comfort as they had a slight preference to sleeping underground. Orana had her rooms at the end of a long corridor on the second floor; it was large but cosy, filled with things that she had proudly bought herself with her wages.
They settled on neatening things up as best they could, some furniture and possessions would need to be replaced, the fire place was lit and the warm glow cast shadows on the mess, making it seem worse than it was. Hawke hobbled into the kitchen and grimaced at the mess; he fumbled in various cupboards and re-emerged with glasses for all and a large bottle of red wine. They settled around the fire, Hawke sat heavily in a large chair with Isabela sat opposite him shuffling a deck of Wicked Grace. Merrill settled down with Luca next to the hearth and sipped at her cup, Varric pulled out his notes from the depths of one of his large pockets and began scribbling, Anders sat beside him and perused them over his shoulder, Aveline removed her chest plate, settled on a pillow and warmed her hands in the orange glow.
Hawke watched Fenris as he fumbled for a place to sit, he knew Fenris was not pleased with the way things had gone last night, but what else could he have done, die? He remembered the axe whistling as it fell, and then everything seemed to slow down. His father's voice filled his ears and offered him help; all he had to do was connect with him, using his blood as a vessel for power. He needed it, he was too weak and too scared to die. He sacrificed his morals and took the power from the demon, smearing his blood over his face and letting it feast from it. In return the demon killed the Arishok. He knew his friends would not approve, especially Fenris, but he reasoned that they would be happy he was alive.
It seemed he was wrong as he remembered the shiver Fenris had sent him when they had finally made eye contact. It hurt; it hurt that all the years they had spent together, all the years they had used to build trust was easy enough to break from one slip.
He watched as Fenris frowned and sat in a free space on the floor, his head resting against the arm of the chair that he was sat on and took a large gulp of wine. At least he wasn't so repulsed by me that he'll sit nearby. It was better than watching him sit on the other side of the room like he feared he would.
After a few rounds of Wicked Grace and a happy buzz had filled everyone's heads from the alcohol, people started turning in for the night. The guest rooms would be full, much to Orana's delight, Luca followed Merrill to her room for the night and the others filed into separate rooms along the top floor corridor. Hawke and Fenris sat together before the fire in an awkward silence, they knew things had to be said but both would've preferred to ignore it and pretend the situation had never settled over them.
Fenris huffed as he stood gracefully, "Goodnight, Hawke" and he started to walk away.
"Fenris, please…"
"No Hawke, I need…I need some time alone to think" He looked over his shoulder at the mage's crestfallen expression; his shoulders were slumped in defeat, his knuckles white on the arm of his chair. Hawke's amber eyes reflected the fire, the glow mocking his sad face. Fenris turned and carried on walking toward his room.
"I love you." Hawke whispered and Fenris ignored it.
Hawke lay restless in his too large bed. The red sheets felt itchy and cold, the large window showed the frost settling over Kirkwall as winter began to settle in. It was a sight he would normally share with Fenris as the elf would smile, snow would arrive soon, and Fenris did love the snow. They would sit on the balcony overlooking the garden and watch it glitter, warm in their blankets and sharing a bottle of rich warm wine. They would talk about random things, nothing from the past or wounds they had suffered, just things. They would laugh and kiss under the stars that made the frost shine on plants and trees, turning them as silver-white as Fenris' hair.
Hawke buried his face beneath his sheets and wished deeply that he hadn't resorted to blood magic. He wished he had just let the axe fall. He would've died but at least he would've died with his morals intact. He would've died not knowing the power and feeling the tug of it ever since; the call of the demons and spirits taunting him and offering him more and more. Promising they'll change Fenris' mind, make him see that it wasn't so bad, that he had made the right choice in fighting for his life with a little help.
Oh Maker, the power. The swell of it had filled every inch of him, made everything shine with clarity, he knew he would've been able to do anything under its influence. He could have flattened the Keep and everyone in it if he was that way inclined, he could have marched against any army alone, made anyone love him completely, brought back his family from the Fade. He groaned and covered his ears, the demons had their fingers wrapped around his mind.
I could just give in. Let them have me…a bang from somewhere in his house had him sitting upright in a millisecond. He could hear a faint shuffling and a small bump. Hawke's brow furrowed as he got out of bed and made his way to the door, cracking it open slightly to hopefully see something. If he could handle it himself, he would, he didn't want to wake the household up for something that might simply be a mouse. He shivered; please don't let it be a mouse. Unfortunately, he couldn't see anything of note, there was a gentle orange glow from the dying embers in the fireplace, but no shadows that could help him pinpoint the source of the shuffling.
He took a breath and quietly exited his room. The shuffling was on the floor above him as small thumps echoed overhead. He quickly walked to the stairs, worried that something sinister had made it in and was quietly killing of his friends. Assassins would not be a surprise, killing his friends would leave him weak, an easy target. He didn't bring a torch so that he didn't bring any attention, so he trusted his sight in the moonlight that poured into the corridor through large stained glass windows. He caught a glimpse of a black shadow exiting the corridor through a door on the other side, at least 40-50 feet away, not worth the risk from a fireball.
Have they finished their job? He squared his shoulders and prepared himself for what he would see when he opened the door to Aveline's room. He gently pressed the handle down and slowly pushed the door open. Her fireplace was lit as he poked his head through the gap and breathed a sigh of relief. She was sat up in bed reading a book she had pilfered from the library.
"Are you okay, Hawke?" She questioned with a brow cocked.
He slid his fingers through his shaggy red hair, "Uh, yeah? Have you heard anything…weird?"
She shook her head, he nodded his thanks and shut the door. Maybe it is just someone getting some water or using the bathroom? Not willing to risk a possible intruder, he followed the shadow he had seen earlier. The spiral stairs lead to the kitchens, there were no windows and it was dark. A darkness he cursed and he bumped his thigh on a low table. He couldn't hear the shuffling so he made his way to the dining room.
He saw a figure walking slowly and slightly slumped over. Whoever it was hadn't noticed him just yet and he used it to his advantage, he got on his hands and knees and slipped underneath the long dining table. He moved up it to where he could see the legs of the person shuffling. They were mumbling to themselves.
"Fenris?" He carefully came out from underneath the table and stood beside the elf. Fenris' eyes were shut, his mouth slack as he mumbled to himself, "Are you asleep?" Hawke waved his hands in front of his face but Fenris didn't react. Fenris was sleepwalking.
Hawke held back a laugh for fear of waking him; he remembered his mother had once told him never to wake a sleepwalker after they had discovered Carver doing it when they were kids. Instead, he followed him around, saving vases and mirrors as Fenris bumped into them, and gently directed him toward the stairs that lead to his bedroom.
The stairs were and issue as the elf stubbed his toes and tripped at every other step, Hawke walked behind him so he didn't fall down, and then gently turned him toward the master bedroom at the top.
Fenris grunted at the creak the door made when Hawke pushed it open but made no indication that he was waking up. Hawke helped him into bed, tucking the sheets around his restless from and then crawled into the other side. He shut his eyes and decided he'd deal with the elf's fury in the morning. Fenris would probably wake in a panic and take it out on him, and Hawke would take it for one more night of him in his bed. Fenris shuffled in his sleep and his head found the hollow in Hawke's shoulder and settled there, his breath ghosted over Hawke's chest and made the mage smile.
"Aiden..?"
"Hmm?"
There was no answer as Fenris fell into a deep slumber, his arm lay gently on Hawke's stomach and his soft hair brushing his chin.
Yeah, I'll definitely deal with this in the morning.
Let me know what you think :)
I might write what happens in the morning at some point, so if anybody has anything they'd like to see then let me know :)
