[when you kiss me, I'm happy enough to die]
Hawke stepped into the room, the firelight casting warm shadows on peeling wallpaper and broken tiles, yet the mansion's interior, despite its deteriorating state, still retained a sort of homey charm to it. It was strange to think that the mansion of one Danarius, deceased Tevinter magister and all-around foul example of mankind, could be considered "homey", but as she stood there, the thought crossed her mind, as if often had before.
Perhaps it was because the furniture had been recently replaced thanks to a generous deal Varric had come across in Lowton, maybe it was because there was a fresh bottle of wine on the table—Aggregio Pavali? It certainly looked like it—or possibly it was because three of her closest friends were huddled around a small table together, smiling and talking with one another.
"You don't need to stay in this pit anymore, you know. Not that you haven't, er, fixed it up nicely…" Varric's cool voice came out like a purr as he selected his words carefully, his hands waving in the air as he spoke. Hawke took another step into the room, closer to them, fighting the fierce blush that threatened to stain her cheeks when she found Fenris staring at her.
"It's falling apart," Aveline said coldly, her expression masked save for the irritation in her eyes at Varric's attempt to sugar coat the true nature of the mansion's state. "and my ability to keep the seneschal from noticing is nearing an end."
"I appreciate what you've done, Aveline," Fenris mentioned, his tone soft and sincere. Hawke shifted her attention to the dwarf as he spoke up again, bewildered at the entirety of the discussion.
"But you're staying. You could go anywhere now!" Varric had a point, and Hawke looked back to the Tevinter elf to hear his response. In truth, she'd had the same thoughts, though never before voiced them aloud. Hadriana had been dead for years, and Danarius hadn't been far behind her to join the Maker's side—though she desperately hoped that he'd been cast deep into the Void for all he'd done, not just to Fenris but to slaves in general. Despite this, Fenris stayed. And she was deeply curious to know why.
"Perhaps I don't wish to go anywhere." Not quite the answer she was looking for, but it was indeed a start, and the evenness of Fenris' tone left no room for further argument, something that Hawke could clearly see annoying the dwarf and the guard captain.
"Freedom must be a terrible burden, I guess," Varric muttered, turning away as he and Aveline stood before departing from the room with a wave and a smile in the elf's direction. Hawke stepped forward, taking the seat that Varric had recently vacated, the flames of the fire creating a glow in Fenris' white hair.
Fenris leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he sighed. "They don't understand. Yes, I am free, Danarius is dead. Yet… it doesn't feel like it should."
"You thought killing him would solve everything, but it doesn't." Hawke said softly, matter-of-fact without being rude. Fenris' eyes lifted to meet hers, the green irises burning warm in their depth. Fenris shrugged some.
"I suppose not. I thought if I didn't need to run and fight to stay alive, I would finally be able to live as a free man does. But how is that? My sister is gone, and I have nothing—not even an enemy." Hawke smiled some.
"Maybe that just means there's nothing holding you back." Fenris' eyes found hers again.
"Hmm… an interesting thought. It's just… difficult to overlook the stain that magic has left on my life. If I seem bitter, it's not without cause. Perhaps it is time to move forward. I just don't know where that leads. Do you?" Hawke smiled a little more, her heart pounding harder in her chest as it threatened to rise to her throat. It was worth a chance, but she had to try.
"Wherever it leads, I hope it means we'll stay together." The moment the words left her lips, Fenris' eyes softened, lips curling up in a small smile. He seemed to be staring into the very bottom of her soul, and his words made her jittery, feeling more like an adolescent girl than a grown woman, a trained warrior at that.
"That is my hope, as well," Fenris hesitated for a moment before glancing away. "We have never discussed what happened between us three years ago."
Hawke shrugged. "You didn't want to talk about it."
Fenris looked down at his hands. "I felt like a fool. I thought it better if you hated me… I deserved no less. But it isn't better," he stood, crossing to her slowly as he spoke. "That night… I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I should have asked for your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now."
Hawke stared up at the elf, expression soft, heart beating erratically under her armor. Fenris' own face betrayed nothing, but in his eyes she could see the underlying fear that she would, in fact, hate him as he believed he deserved. She swallowed slowly before speaking, "I need to understand why you left, Fenris."
For a moment, Fenris looked ashamed. "I've thought about the answer a thousand times. The pain, the memories it brought up… It was too much. I was a coward. If I could go back, I would stay. Tell you how I felt." He didn't look at her as he spoke, and Hawke pressed on.
"What would you have said?" Fenris turned his head, eyes bearing deep into Hawke's. For a moment, there was an impenetrable silence between them, the flames in the fireplace licking at ashen logs, light dancing on the left half of the elf's face. Hawke felt so small, so vulnerable under the weight of his gaze, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was full of emotions that he'd never really dared to express, and when he did, it was fleeting, lasting only a moment.
"Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you." The words were soft, rough with emotion, heavy and thick and Hawke couldn't tear her eyes away from him. She couldn't even try.
"I understand," she said. "I always understood." Fenris leaned closer, hands resting on the arms of the chair she sat in, face inches from her own as he spoke.
"If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side."
Hawke had barely let him finish before she leapt to her feet, pressing her mouth to the elf's in a hot kiss, shivering a little as his gauntlet-covered hand came up to the back of her head, keeping her close. Her arms snaked around him, almost clinging to him as they kissed. For three years she had been holding back her feelings, her desires, all for Fenris' sake. She'd never wanted to make him uncomfortable, never give him reason to leave and never come back. Now she didn't have to worry about that. She didn't have to worry about anything.
Metal-tips gently pushed through her hair as Fenris deepened their kiss, another tremble of pleasure snaking its way along her spine, coiling around the base as she whimpered into his lips, feeling like she could never get enough. The elf's arms dropped, curling around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer as she broke their kiss to breathe, her forehead pressed to his, noses touching.
Tilting her head, Hawke pressed a kiss to Fenris' chin, just off from the lyrium tattoos etched there in his skin. She smiled as he shivered against her, leaning his forehead against her hair as she kissed the spot again. "Venhedis…" He growled, leaning heavily into her.
"Fenris," she sniped, smiling, "Such language!"
"Festis bei umo canavarum…" He murmured again with a small smile, rolling his eyes.
"I don't speak Tevinter, Fenris," Hawke glowered some, pushing at his chest. Fenris laughed quietly, pulling her back.
"You will be the death of me…" At her horrified look, he kissed her again. "I was speaking out of context, Hawke. I know you wouldn't. Not really."
She melted into him, smiling more. "Maybe I should be. Show you that you should be careful what you say." She muttered, and Fenris chuckled, chest rumbling with laughter. She pressed her ear close, listening through his armor at the sound before detecting the rhythm of his heart, humming softly as she heard its pattern pick up, beating faster.
"Hawke?" She glanced at him, staring up into his eyes, watching his expression shift into something soft and warm. "Marian…"
"You never use my name," she teased, her lips brushing his again as she stood to kiss him slowly. "You always call me Hawke."
"Hawke is… too formal for my tastes, makes it sound like we're strictly business partners. Especially in moments like this." Hawke smiled.
"And what am I, now?" He smirked, pulling her in, whispering one word before crushing her in a kiss.
"Mine."