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Hawke and Fenris' second- well, third- time was an entirely different affair than their rushed and passionate reconciliation. That wasn't to say that it wasn't great, but being able to take to their time was much appreciated. After a long day on the Wounded Coast and then a few drinks with friends at the Hanged Man, Fenris had accompanied Hawke home. Isabela teased them mercilessly about the slight displays of public affection that they had displayed during cards, and Hawke still had traces of red on her cheeks from blushing as the two leisurely made their way back to her mansion.
As they entered her home, Hawke shyly reached for his hand and guided him up the stairs to her bedroom. Last night, it had been up against a wall, all fury and years of longing. Tonight, she took him back to the scene of the crime: the place where he had left her and broken her heart. Fenris hesitated slightly, and though his mouth was set in a grim line, his eyes were pools of desire.
Though Hawke wanted to start peeling off her light armor as they made their way up there, she didn't want Oranna or Bodahn coming out to find her gear all over the place, so she kept her clothes on and merely smirked knowingly at Fenris. She pushed open the doors and closed them quietly behind them. Hawke half expected him to just surge forward, his lips slamming against hers with brutal force. Instead, he watched her carefully. Off came her boots, and then she slowly removed pieces of her leather armor, drawing out every action. Fenris, in turn, took off his chest plate and slipped off the gauntlets that had left marks that were still visible on her body more than a day later. He finished first and stood only in his linen trousers. She smiled at him seductively as she slipped out of her leggings.
"Minx," he growled. His deep, sultry voice always elicited a response in her, and this time was no different. No more games. Hawke now remained in only her smallclothes. Staring directly at him, she took off her breastband. No longer interested in self-control and letting Hawke take the lead, Fenris glided toward her, resting his forehead against hers. She still made the first move, bringing her lips to his in a gentle kiss that deepened in seconds.
They took their time, delaying the inevitable just to revel in each other. When their bodies did finally meet, their pace was a lulling one. Fenris placed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed lightly, and murmured in Arcanum. Hawke pressed kisses to his jawbone and let her pleasure be known with breathy moans. There was no feisty change of positions, no time limit set. Eventually, Hawke found a perfect moment of bliss, and Fenris reached his peak shortly thereafter. He lowered himself onto her and did not move. Their breathing became quieter after a period, and Fenris removed himself from her.
"I love you, Fenris," she confessed, exhaling as she stared at the ceiling.
"And I, you," came his slightly more breathless reply. Hawke positively gleamed at his response, snuggling closer to his body, his lyrium tattoos flaring.
"I wish I didn't have to get up," Hawke sighed.
"So don't." Fenris flipped Hawke on top of him and kissed her. She playfully shoved him and got up.
"Have to wash up!" she called as she headed for the washroom. Fenris closed his eyes for a brief rest until her return.
Moments later, Hawke strolled back to bed, still completely naked, grabbing the sheets and bringing them back down over the two of them. She went to roll back into his arms, but Fenris was staring peculiarly at her. "What is that on your back?" he questioned.
"What do you mean?"
"That mark." His voice became deadly serious.
"Which one? You know how many scars I have. There's the Arishok exit wound, that's a personal- "
Fenris ignored her nonchalant reply and attempted to turn her back toward him.
"Fenris, hey, what are you doing- "
"This one. This brand." He interrupted her. His fingers traced the small S burned into her skin at the left lower shoulder.
"That's always been there," Hawke sighed. She tried to lift his finger from her, but he wouldn't.
"This is a slaver's brand. How have I never seen this?" Fenris appeared deeply upset.
"It's small, and I mean, do you spend a lot of time looking there? No. Anders has asked about it, but-"
"The abomination has seen this, but you did not speak of it with me?" Now he was becoming angry, the hurt showing in his eyes.
"Well, I'm sorry, when it comes to traumatic experiences, you kind of take the cake in this relationship!" Hawke snapped. Fenris whipped his head to the side, clearly stinging from her comment.
"I'm sorry, Fenris." She put her head in her hands. "There was never a great time to discuss it, and it really isn't something I like to think or talk about."
"You think I enjoy remembering Danarius?" he sneered.
"No! Maker, no. What happened to you… that was terrible. What happened to me was… also not good, but not like that. Can we move on?"
Fenris merely stared at her, his fingers still over the old brand.
"That's what I thought. You can ask a few questions," Hawke sighed. Fenris moved his hand off of her, and she immediately yanked the sheets over her back and the offending mark.
"When?"
"Before I met you, shortly after arriving in Kirkwall. I had Varric remove this part of my history from all of the grand tales."
"He knew about this?"
Hawke shook her head. "He's heard rumors, but nothing from me."
This seemed to calm Fenris somewhat. "How?"
"Got overwhelmed on a routine trip to the coast for Meeran. Slavers attacked us. We fought tooth and nail against them. It had been a night, and we were all exhausted. All of the men I was with fell to their swords. I nearly had them beat, and then all of a sudden, wham! Something got me in the head, and there was utter darkness."
Fenris gestured for her to go on. "I woke up on a ship that was rocking back and forth like crazy. I was rolling against the wood floor, my face full of splinters from rubbing up against it. I was so disoriented, I didn't know what was going on. My mind was addled. A damn concussion from a blow to the head with a pommel, for sure. My hands were in chains. That's when things became clear. I was being taken away by slavers."
Hawke drew a deep breath. "The brand was already there on my shoulder. It stung like a son of a bitch. They must have done it when I was out. It was pitch-dark in the room. I had no idea where the ship was heading and if it was night or day. I started picking at the lock on the cuffs around my wrists, but I didn't get very far when the door opened up. The light was blinding, and I couldn't see anything, and then there's a lit lamp and this slaver- Vic, I think that's what they called him."
Hawke shivered, pulling the sheets even tighter around her. "Anyway, within two weeks of sailing, there was a horrible storm. I thought I was going to die, I was so sick. The ship went over on its side. At the time, I was in the captain's room. The glass window shattered, and the sea came rushing in. I plunged deeper into the ocean without a second thought. The captain didn't react at first, and I was afraid he was going to grab my ankle, but I kicked out of the window as fast as I could. My lungs were burning because I hadn't been able to get a full breath of air before everything happened. I didn't know which way was up or down, but I let myself float for a second and went with my gut feeling. Just as the edges of my vision became dark and fuzzy, there was the air."
Hawke laughed, remembering the relief she felt as the oxygen came rushing back into her lungs. "My stupid wrists were still chained together, which made swimming a bit challenging, as you probably can imagine. This crate was bobbing in the water, and I made my way over to that and climbed on. I kicked my legs as hard and fast as I could in case the slavers saw me escaping. I think they were a bit preoccupied though. I drifted on that crate for half a day. Luckily, it wasn't too cold, or I would've frozen to death. A small ship came upon me that afternoon. A merchant sailing for Kirkwall. A good man who took me onboard and cared for me. I was back in Kirkwall a month after everything. Meeran was surprised as hell to see me. Figured I was dead. I didn't tell him what happened, and he didn't ask; I think he was pissed but glad to get back his best rogue. Bethany and Mother had been worried sick, and I told them it was a job that took me out of town for much longer than I expected. They were suspicious, and others have questioned me about the trip, but I haven't told anyone the truth."
Fenris looked completely shell-shocked, his lyrium markings casting an eerie light over the dim bedroom. "Hawke… this story… it's an incredible weight to bear."
"It was. I was ashamed about what had happened, and then more and more time passed, and as it did, it seemed less and less relevant."
"Surely you could've spoken about it with me. How is you being… being treated like that irrelevant to the people who care for you, Hawke?" Fenris' eyes narrowed.
"I didn't want to trigger anything," she replied quietly, now picking a loose thread on the sheets nervously.
"What happened to you? With the slavers?" he asked in an even tone that seemed somewhat strained to her ears.
"The usual, you know." When Fenris didn't make any gesture or comment, she continued, her voice wavering. "I was beaten. I had killed some of their men, and they were not happy about it. They couldn't really maim me, it would affect my value. No whipping. That's for after you're sold, they told me. Darkness. Near starvation. And rape."
Fenris' face twisted into a pained grimace as Hawke exhaled sharply. His hand grabbed hers firmly. "Hawke…"
"It's okay. I want to talk about it. I need to now." She placed her head on his shoulder. "At first there was Vic, he was in charge of the acquisitions. Feeding them. Punishing them. And then he brought me to whomever required services. That's… that's what I was doing in the captain's quarters. If I hadn't been there, I would've been in the tiny room and would have surely drowned. Ironic, isn't it? If they hadn't used me, I'd be dead." Hawke tried to make a jest of it, but Fenris didn't return her smile and little laugh.
"You have suffered, and I never knew it, never asked about it, and you let me go on about Danarius blindly…" Fenris eyes lit with anger again, though Hawke knew it was from anger at himself.
"Stop that. I try not to wear this on my sleeve. You had no way of knowing." Hawke kissed a line of lyrium on his neck. "Shit happens. A lot. And it affects people differently, and that's fine. I understood where you were coming from with what happened to you, and when you pulled away after we slept together, I got it. It hurt, there's no denying that, but I understood. And I hope you'll understand where I'm coming from. This, this little S- it will never fade from my body or my memory, but it's that small to me now."
Fenris placed his hands on her cheeks, gently adjusting her face towards his. She could see the doubt in his eyes. He closed them firmly, and Hawke observed dampness glitter at the edges of his eyelids. Hawke pressed her fingers to them, clearing away the moisture that she rarely saw him spill.
"Are they dead?" Fenris murmured.
"I believe they all drowned."
"A blessing and a curse. I wish they were alive so I could kill them myself and feel their hearts stop beating in my grasp."
"Hey," she whispered. His eyes opened wearily. "Will you hold me?"
The murderous look on Fenris' face softened to one of guilt."Of course I will. As long as you'll have me."
Hawke scooted down into the bed, and Fenris' arms encircled her tightly. Tears started to well in her eyes, and she pressed them into the soft linen of her pillow, not wanting to display them openly. Though it took a great deal of time for their eyes to close and their minds to walk in the Fade that night, the warmth and the closeness between them eventually helped the two drift away from their past and into the future, side by side.
Rated M for sexual content. TW: rape references.