Languid quivering muscles, stretching under skin, sending shivers over her body. Shivers pulling at her partner's consciousness. Sunlight, tiptoeing through gaps in the current. Despite the fireplace that Orianna kept stoked, the heat of the sun in late morning was welcome. Soft, forgiving pillows, familiar sense and presses, all welcoming to a body. The mattress shifted her body, not of her own accord. The body beside her stretching with interrupted sleep. A hand, darkened the skin of her own rubbing hip bones, the soft mumble of approval. Then the familiar press of chapped lips of the name of the neck. Solid front pressing against the softer back side of her own. Curling, drawing her into a makeshift cocoon. Two bodies over time, becoming attuned towards one another. Sharing together in the maker's design. Soft, searching nip, along shoulder bones and tripping down biceps.
Familiarity. Comfort. Adoration.
"Ever waking early" the subtle murmur of baritone, hot breath against her hair. Arousal softened by the haze of slow morning wake.
"Oh hush, it is later than normal" she murmured, rolling to her back. Ghosting lips along his Temple and another to the tip of a point wear.
"One of these days," faltering dregs of sleep slurring words, a large hand selling on her breast. Round, not generous, enough to cradle in the palm of an elven males hand.
"You always say that" she pressed a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose, cheek, jaw. The top edges of those conflicting tattoos. She thinks the maker they had been working on managing the discomfort that came along with them. One of the inquisitor's companions had helped them manage the irritation. An elf who seemed at home in Sky hold. Hawke pressed a kiss to Fenris's throat, stretching with a series of satisfying pops along her spine.
"Honestly Hawke, you do not have to get up" eyes heavy with sleep, traces of more active interactions widening dark pupils.
"Fenris… We have guests"
"Trust me, I am more than aware of that." Baritone rumbling, a dash of introverted displeasure.
Raising on hands, body carved by hours of sword wielding, aesthetically pleasing.
Hard belly pressed against her own, softer by nature's designs. Hips built to fit into another, a comfortable lock. Dropping down to his elbows, support solidifying, allowing for open-mouthed kisses along her throat.
"You're going to make us horribly late" she did nothing to pushed on the smile that turned her mouth upwards.
"I do believe that is why you hired Oriana" untying long black strands from their braid. Sprayed, crushed curls kinked over mahogany pillowcases and her. He stared down at her, captivated by the contrast. Pale skin against dark hair dark hair against life colored sheets. "If I am correct" is smirk pressing her smile. The press of lip against lip, mouth sliding over her own.
Texture. Sultry. Trembling Inhalations.
Those eyes, emerald in color, multi-dimensional in their emotions. Depths, hardened like the stone they resembled, but soft with the caress of care and emotion. Darkening with desire.
Tongue. Hot. Ever questioning.
Scorching.
Strong fingers on hips, the familiar press of sharp, male, angular planes. Contrast. Soft breasts and belly. Hitching breaths.
"You are going to make us so late for breakfast…"…..
"Okay, okay Fenris I need a breather!" Hawke stepped back, hands held up in surrender, deep breaths filling her chest. The adjacent elf lowered the overburdened blade. Making no sound, tip touching packed dirt. Searching eyes met her smile concern, and emotion should come to recognize on him the late years. "Just a break" she smiled, lowering her own weapons. They were good to have, she knew from experience. If she were to ever find herself without a staff, it would make the utmost sense for her to handle small blades. Her rogue friends adamantly approved. Scratching her forehead she pushed sweat slick hair from her skin.
Damp forehead, nape, breasts, trousers heavy with sweat.
They had opted for a multitude of practicing rounds in the afternoon sun. Hawke was still undecided if the situation was a thoughtless or fruitful endeavor. They decided her private courtyard could prove to be a perfect training yard. She noted that they had gathered a small audience.
Eyes skimming the makeshift arena, lined with daisies, Bethany's favorite flowers.
Matching the yellow accent of the mansions decorations. Yellow, one of Carver's favorite colors. Flowers and colors. Her siblings. Sometimes the ache of their absence woke her from dreams at night, stopped her in the marketplace. She missed them, and she loved them, forever.
She examined the scattering of people. Never did think that her mother's mansion would contain this many exuberant people. Hawke regarded two men laughing in a corner, bathed with impressive aura and physique. If someone, four years ago had told her that the King of Ferelden and the Commander of the Inquisition would be discussing their Templar days in her mansion she would send them to Anders to get their heads checked. Speaking of the mage, he was looking a little better, not relying so heavily on the staff he was forced to use. Not merely for magic but as a walking tool. He sat, looking as if he was co-telling the story of his days in Amaranthine with her. The Queen of Ferelden… The Hero of Ferelden. Hawke shook her head in amazement, rolling stiffening shoulders. The Hero of Ferelden in her courtyard! The mind numbing disbelief continued as she took in the storytellers audience. Sitting and listening was Merrill, beside her Isabela, an Elven woman named Sera, a bearded man named Blackwall and lastly, the Inquisitor Lavellan. Wide-eyed and soaking up information as always. Hawke took notice at Skyhold, the Inquisitor seemed to have a voracious appetite for new stories and facts. Perhaps that was why Varric had been so taken with the woman so quickly. Speaking of Varric, he was in his own corner speaking with a smattering of others from both the Heroes and the Inquisitor's personal group of friends. Josephine, Leliana, Zevran, Vivianne, the new divine herself Cassandra…the list could go on and on. And Hawke found herself slightly humbled and amazed. To see them all here, her heroes, heroes of the world. If anyone had told her that 15 years ago she would own her family's mansion in Kirkwall she would've laughed them right out of the door. She had never once thought, all the rooms would be occupied, near overflowing.
Laughter. His story. Skirted pain.
To be honest, when Varric had suggested such a gathering she was shocked. He and Anders, two sentimental fools, got to chatting one evening and collaborated. When she had asked why not the castle in Denerim, Anders had been quick to point out that his former Warden commander had expressed her dislike of how busy the court was all the time. Even though she had just returned from her decade-long expedition, the court kept her away from her husband. So Denerim was off-limits. Then, before Hawke could even bring up Skyhold Varric had interrupted, arguing that the hold was in the midst of dire repairs. And with the threat of Fen'harel looming over the ever plagued world, the Inquisition would not allow the Inquisitor a moments peace if she was within 100 miles of the place.
Even though Hawke did receive regular requests, she was the least sought after hero at the moment. Unable to deny such facts, Hawke found herself agreeing with the barest of trepidations. And now she found herself pleased with her decision, sinking into a bench in the shade with a silent grunt. She rolled her neck and shoulders again, satisfying, audible cracks sounding from the joints. Hawke needed to work on stretching. She had become complacent with such practices as the majority of requests that came her way were now less demanding.
"Hawke"
"Thanks," the carefully placed weight and baritone told her all she needed to know. She watched as Alastair and Cullen made their way into the ever-growing storytelling circle. She observed the Kings not so subtle adoration of his wife. Lips pressed to her high cheekbones, a large hand finding her hip as he slid into the open space aside her. Cullen's actions, not so loud as he crossed his legs and lowered himself aside Inquisitor, knees and shoulders touching. Hawke shook her head in amazement, only looking away when a hand not her own tucked stray locks behind her ear. The slight compression of his brows and searching eyes told her of the elves concern. "I'm all right" she assured him. Regarding him, for a moment, she shook her head again "I just find myself in amazement."
" Amazement of what?"
"Of love" she smiled, pulling her legs up as he turned her body towards them. "Of all the times and places, love appears." she gestured towards the group stationed just across the way.
"I'm confused."
"Oh Fenris, think about it." She gestured towards the couple at the bench. The couple was nearing the end of their 30s, watching their touches, glances of adoration and trust, one would think they were lovers in the throes of a new relationship. Rather than nearing 20 years of marriage. "They met during the Blight of all places. Became the last two wardens of Ferelden, defeated the archdemon, took the throne and through all that, they fell in love, and stayed together." She raised her hands in awe "I mean sure, they doubtlessly have had numerous fights and disagreements, but here they are! In my home! Together and so in love that it's nauseating! And then them!" She gestured in exasperation to Cullen and the Inquisitor. "All that Cullen has gone through and then he falls in love with the Inquisitor! A mage! And with her life as a Dalish elf, ever on the run from Templars and she falls in love with him! All this stuff with the Inquisition going on, their past! and they find love!" She slumped back against the stone wall, cool to the flesh as clinging shadows kept the sun at bay.
Calloused fingers finding her leather hair strap she tugged on it until her hair was completely released from its confines. Raking her fingers through the brown strands. When she had actively been keeping a roof over her families had she had kept it short, cropped about the years. It did little for her to have long hair, as she had no time or patience to maintain a long style. But when life had slowed, danger's no longer as often as hellos in the streets did she had let it grow. Uncertain at first, but a subtle itch, a desire after Fenris a commented on her hair one night, to see his longer. They had made a deal, he would grow his own out if she grew hers.
He had assured her that he thought her beautiful no matter the length of her hair but admitted to curiosity and how she would look. Within the year, she called him out on his lie. After one, energy pumping nights of with the grace and booze at the hang the man, Hawke, pleased, that Bartend and Oriana retired early to bed. For the slamming of her body against the stair walls and the noises… She shook her head to remove the flame coming to life at the memory. But, when he had used her hair to control her, the arousal… She had called them out the following morning and his sheepish admittance to his attraction to long hair. All those situations coupled together, convinced her she was much more suited for long hair.
" I know that look"
"No," she said firmly, holding up a finger in the warning as she blinked out of the memories, her eyes fixing on an all-too-familiar expression on her lover's face. She couldn't bite back the smile at his disgruntled sigh of disappointment. Shaking her head she continued "and then… Look at us" turning her head she was thankful for the chill of stone. "I was just trying to support my family, then taking on the Qunari and the beginnings of the mage rebellion" she shrugged "and then with you running from Denarius, and then your freedom… And we ended up together, despite your hate of mages" she smiled as he touched her hands.
"Hawke I could never hate you"
"Fenris you're missing the point" she laughed, squeezing at his fingers. "All that stuff that the both of us were going through and well, we fell in love" she smiled as he looked away. But at least, he didn't pull away, he was getting better with his embarrassment. "It… Seems to happen huh?" She smiled peering back out at the small grouping of people in the courtyard.
"Is it something that displeases you?"
"No, no" she protested "I am amazed, it just blows my mind… I mean, and while we were battling, we even have the time to help Aveline get together with Donnic." She smiled, rubbing her hands across her knees. She shook her head again as she watched the red-headed woman pull Varric aside for something. She was once again blown away. Words trickling away as thoughts encompassed.
Searching. Familiarity. Realization. Content. Love.
"Still thinking on love, love?" Fenris's voice interrupted her admiration.
"Yes, but it's different this time." Shifting as a bench began to numb her backside she opted for using Fenris for back support. She stifled a grin at the stiffening of muscles in the man's body, a response of subtle surprise. They had adopted an unspoken rule against public displays of affection. It did little good to give leverage to those slave hunters that either still came after Fenris this many years later. Or partners of those he permanently put out of business over the last few years. Neither was it good to give leverage to those enemies that Hawke inevitably had a due to her relations. Particularly with Isabela and Anders. But here, and her private courtyard she was safe. She knew her personal group would die before betraying her. And the Inquisition group, she knew she could trust them as well. She trusted Cullen with her life, and if the Inquisitor was the woman that he had given his heart to then she and her group had to be of the highest caliber. Hawke had experienced the Inquisitor's devotion herself inside of the fade. After they healed, Hawke had been curious about how one had decided between her and Stroud. She had sought an answer. The Elven woman had turned serious eyes to her and with little hesitation responded:
"I left it up to who would be missed the most. I have spoken with Stroud and not once have the men mentioned another person of close relations. When I prodded he spoke only of the solitude of a Warden's life. And in your case, Cullen had spoke of all the companions you had back in Kirkwall. He told me of Fenris and all you two had to go through, what your death would leave behind. The lives ruined… That was how I decided who would be left behind. Not saying Stroud's life was any less valuable, but the amount of people that would be in pain after your death." She stopped there a sad smile crossing Elvish features.
Delicate. Exotic. Appealing to the human eye.
"you do not think that I could do that to Varric. "Hawke decided at that moment that the Inquisitor was a woman to be trusted. From then on she had created a relationship with a woman. Exchanging correspondence and Hawke even made it habit to stop by SkyHold during her and Fenris's travels after slavers. After the Inquisition paused most of it's actions, the female Inquisitor had come to visit Kirkwall on various occasions.
It was a sudden laughter from the storyteller that moved Hawke's thoughts. The Queen of for Eldon, hero of the Blight, Hawke had little interactions with the woman personally. But she had interacted with the King, Alistair and he was one fate of a man. Loyal to a fault, Jerry and had an unhealthy obsession with cheese. She trusted him, but that was not the final nail in the coffin of solidified her trust in this woman. She looked to the other blond male on the female Cousland's hip; Anders. Anders did not trust easily. Not after the circle, the Templars and Justice. Now, he did not. And Hawke new without a doubt that he trusted the hero, that he would die if it was required for her survival.
It was that. Anders unshakable trust that told Hawke the woman and her companions were worth trusting. A loud belch jolted her attentions to the far right. There she recognized the assassins Zevran, who had moved away from Varric's circle, now stood nose wrinkling at the rambunctious and quite drunk, for the time of day, male dwarf. Oghren was his name if she remembered correctly. The Inquisitor and the Hero certainly did have the most interesting-oh who was she kidding, her own ragtag group of friends was no better. She watched as sister Leliana sidled over to the pair, a curious expression on her face.
If Hawke hadn't seen it with her own eyes she would've never believed that three so different people, could be so close. Walking into Aveline's home she had nearly choked to death on her sweet roll when she stumbled upon the scene of Aveline, Isabela, and Merrill all seated in Aveline's living room. Hawke had been vaguely aware that Fenris and Donnic got together to play weekly games of wicked grace. But was unaware that her other companions spent any time together. Honestly, not a single one of them had anything in common and when Hawke had brought this anomaly up to Varric he had corrected her. There was, at least, one common denominator the entire group shared. That was the respect and care for the same person; her.
Love.
Now that she was able to sit back and watch a similar situation unfold, Hawke was able to see a clear picture. All these different persons, human, Elven, Dwarven, even Qunari, all gathered together for the idea of peace(she would forget that). More importantly because in each of their respective groups they all cared for one person and fought for that person out of respect. Right there, in a mere 10 minutes, she had viewed three different types of love.
"Okay, Hawke you look completely baffled. Do I get a new book out about look"
"You came to grace me Viscount" she grinned.
"I have to keep up appearances, and there is a sort of romanticism around the Viscount being one of the Champions original and beloved companions." The older dwarf chuckled, hefting himself onto the bench beside her.
"Romanticism surrounding you and Hawke, Varric that's one of the most stupid things I have heard you say yet." Fenris interrupted flatly, leaning around Hawke with a pointed glare.
"Oh- enough with the glares Broody, I said romanticism, not romance, plus that's not what I am saying. In the Seeker's words, 'UGHHH'." he chuckled "That would be like being in love, the wrong kind of love with my little sister."
"All, you think of me as a little sister."
"Just because you're taller does not make you the older sibling. Things like years and wisdom are the deciding factor, Hawke."
"Of course Viscount"
"Remember that Champion." He laughed and Hawke couldn't help but join in. The pair only laughing harder at Fenris's shaking head and grunt. Hawke laced her fingers tighter with an elf, the scowl softening to a smile.
"So what did prompt the bafflement on your face Hawke?" Varric questioned, unwilling to let the question drop.
"It was love." she answered honestly, beaming as Fenris rested his chin atop her shoulder. "I guess I have to explain"
"Of course Hawke"
" My realization will take some explaining, so get comfortable." Hawke began to sort her thoughts aloud, and before she knew it she was now the storyteller. Conversation ceasing, her own audience gathering. It was then she felt her chest tighten with emotion. The realization might have been abrupt, the story non-profound. It was no massive scientific or religious discovery. Something small, a reminder that once again their world, threatened. This time by an elf they thought companion.
Hawke learned over the years that it didn't have to be big to be important. simple things such as a shared campfire, a drink together could play a part to bonding a group so tightly that it would support a woman to single-handedly take down an archdemon. Ending the Blight. Finding love; with a man who understood the burn of the taint. So, that is love.
A group of friends gathered to support a woman who took down the Arishok, and a lover to help with the nightmares resulting from atrocities witnessed after the destruction of the chantry when family ties were no longer there. This is love.
And, a group of friends pushing her on as they battled an aspiring god, old stories told over long banquet tables and a man; putting his past behind him to help her through the pain of inflicted magic. That, in the end, took a piece of her body from her. So, that is love.
Everyone, altogether even after going their own separate ways. Gathering to support each other despite differences. Friends, begrudged and not, lovers, role models, people, people just trying to make the world safe for their loved ones. As Hawke continued to speak to those who were listening to her story, feeding in bits from their own experiences as the stories were told of them, it clicked. Everything falling together. So, that is love.
Experience. Suffering. Delight.
Trust. Betrayal. Perseverance.
It made sense.
So, this is love.