Author's Note:

This is a sequel to my fic "The Right Time for Happiness" – please have a look over there first if you don't want to spoil that fic. If you're not interested in that fic, these do stand alone. Also spoilers for DAII and DAI. Since this takes place after DAI, whatever is coming in Game 4 could ruin this all, but for now I'd like to assume Fenris and Hawke are somewhat insulated from whatever Thedas-shattering nonsense occurs.

I'm not usually into reading or writing much of an OC presence – but some of these ideas were too cute to pass up.

Each chapter covers a different time-point in the Hawke household, with its own little theme. I have three written so far, and a few more ideas in the works. Enjoy!

It's Because You Love Them

Age 8

Fenris sat between his two children as they bent over sheets of paper, scrawling away. Hawke had gone into town to buy some odds and ends… and hopefully some decent wine for once. Meanwhile, he was helping them with their daily writing lessons. He looked over Malcolm's shoulder, watching as the boy carefully translated each sentence from common tongue to Tevene. He was halfway down the page, making slow but steady progress. His sister, meanwhile…

"Done!" El declared, thrusting her paper at Fenris.

He took it from her, frowning as he deciphered her hasty script. "You have the right words, but your conjugations are all wrong. Like here, see? Stop rushing and do it right."

El pouted. "Why do we have to learn this anyway?"

Fenris sighed. "Because it's good to know and I can teach it to you. I learned Tevene first, you know. I still think in Tevene half the time."

"You cuss in Tevene too," El muttered.

"How would you know, if you don't understand what I'm saying?" Fenris asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

El laughed. "Because Mama scolds you!" She deepened her voice, a comical impression of Hawke. "Don't say things like that in front of the children!"

"Your mother wasn't raised in a Chantry either, you know," Fenris grumbled.

"I know," El said, dissolving into giggles. "Sometimes she says Andraste's knickerweasels!"

Malcolm finally took his eyes from his paper, looking up at his father. "What does that even mean?"

Fenris rolled his eyes. "I've no idea. She learned it form an old friend of ours." He turned to El. "Now, finish up those conjugations and you can go play."

El slumped in her chair. "They're haaaard, Papa."

"No they aren't," Fenris huffed. "I taught myself to spell them right you know."

Malcolm was curious. "Your parents didn't teach you to write Tevene?"

"No, they didn't teach me at all. Your mother taught me to read and write, but she only speaks common tongue. She doesn't know Tevene," Fenris replied plainly.

El laughed, "That's silly Papa… How did she teach you if you're almost the same age?"

Fenris sighed, one eyebrow raised. "What do our ages have to do with anything?"

El started doodling stick figures on her paper, singing to herself. "La- la- laaa. Little Ma-ma tea-ching little Pa-pa how to read…" A smiling figure with long hair was holding a book for a scowling one.

Fenris rolled his eyes. "I wasn't little. We told you we met in Kirkwall when we were both already grown."

"So… what?" El began, confused. "Your parents forgot to teach…"

"El!" Malcolm snapped. "Look, I'm finished. I'm going to go play on the swing first."

El frowned, her competitive nature erasing whatever thought she'd had. "I'll finish before you can even get your boots on!"

Later that evening, Hawke and El went outside to make sure the chickens were safely rounded up into their coop, while Fenris tended to the supper they had cooking over the fire. He put the lid back on the pot and turned to see Malcolm behind him.

"Papa…" Malcolm was tentative. "I'm sorry El is so stupid."

Fenris frowned. "Your sister isn't stupid. She just doesn't enjoy lessons the way you do." It was true. The only books they didn't have to force her to read were Varric's nonsense adventures. Meanwhile, Malcolm would happily read about the geography of Antiva.

"No, I don't mean that. I know El's smart. It's… well she's mean sometimes without knowing it. She assumes things… and then says whatever she's thinking."

"Like what?" Fenris asked.

"Like earlier… Your parents didn't forget to teach you to read, did they? That doesn't make any sense," Malcolm explained.

"No," Fenris admitted plainly, "I doubt they knew themselves. Even so, it doesn't matter. I know now."

"Yeah… but…" Malcolm bit his lip. He stood, indecisive, for a long time before finally going to the bookshelf and selecting a reference tome on the kingdoms and realms of Thedas. Really, this boy and his reading… He flipped through the pages and then turned the book towards Fenris.

"Is this book true, Papa?"

Fenris had only to glance at the title of the chapter: Slavery in the Tevinter Imperium. He'd read every book in the house at least twice, and this one was no exception. The book was true, and candidly so.

"Yes…"

Malcolm started to cry, and Fenris could only assume one thing. The boy, wise beyond his years, had pieced together what it meant to be an illiterate, non-mage elf in Tevinter.

Years ago, Fenris had asked Hawke how she thought he should approach his past when it came to the children. He had no intention of hiding reality from them, but he also realized that he was possibly too blunt to explain such touchy subjects appropriately. Hawke, however, had no answers. "I know they're our children, but it's your story, Fenris." Really, Fenris thought he had a few more years before this would even come up, but Malcolm was like his mother… too inquisitive by half.

"Come here…" Fenris ordered softly. "You don't need to cry over the past, least of all mine."

"But it's awful…" the boy stepped into Fenris's arms and buried his face in his shirt.

"Yes, some things are awful. That's why your mother and I want to teach you to do good things." The boy's tears didn't subside. Fenris bent down, taking him by the shoulders. "Hey, look at me. Someday, when you're older, I'll tell you more about my past. Right now, you only need to know three things. First, I am free. I've been free for a long time. Second, I am happy, because I have you and El and your mother. Third, I wouldn't change my past. If it weren't for my past I wouldn't be standing here right now. Do you understand?"

Malcolm nodded, sniffling but no longer crying. "Papa?"

"Yes?"

"I know I can become a good mage, a strong mage," Malcolm said quietly.

"I know you can too," Fenris assured him.

Malcolm looked up at him, a rare determination in his eyes. "I won't let any Magisters get us." The tips of Malcolm's small fingers glowed blue with a magic usually reserved for healing his sister's skinned knees, and Fenris's heart broke just a little.

Fenris scooped the boy up in a fierce hug. "I don't ever want you to worry about that. Your mother and I are stronger than any Magister, I promise."

That night, Fenris lay awake in bed. Having relayed the day's events to Hawke, he sighed. "I thought it would get easier once they could feed themselves and toilet themselves. How could simply talking to them be so hard?"

Hawke snuggled closer to him and kissed his temple. "It's because you love them."

"That's always your answer," he complained. "I loved them when they were tiny squalling things too."

"Yes, but then they only needed to be held and cared for. It was exhausting, certainly, but it wasn't difficult to understand. Now they're not squalling things, they're people, Fenris. They're trying to understand the world, and they look to us to teach them. We love them, so we want to teach them properly and it's exhausting all over again."

Fenris sighed and threw an arm over his face. "They're both so clever and stubborn, it frightens me."

Hawke laughed.

"I'm serious," Fenris continued, moving his arm just enough to peek at her with one eye. "Sometimes I wonder if I would do a better job if I remembered being a child."

Hawke shook her head and kissed him. "I remember my childhood perfectly well, and I'm just as lost as you are. I think that's just how it works."