The Tale of Ser Fenris

This is a f!MageHawke/Fenris fic that I started a long time ago but being stumped on my Inquisitor/Solas story for the moment made me revisit playing DAII and finish this first chapter. If you can get past the schmaltz in the first chapter I think it will be an interesting story with an unexplored angle to it. Definite goal planned for this one, though the rest of the chapters probably won't be this long. So I'll run two against my better judgment and try very hard to NOT start the other two I have planned. It's been a craptastic week.

This is yet another explanation for what the heck happened after Fenris left F!Hawke's bedside. I can't imagine he went back to adventuring with her without SOMETHING being said other than that blurb in Legacy if you bring him along after that and all the comments from the companions about them being a couple in late act 2. And please, F!Hawke - bold as brass usually (and mine a mage of 'questionable wit') - is just going to sit there stunned and let virtually nothing be said for three years? Pffft. Story will of course go wildly AU after this and will stay dialogue heavy.

1. The Tale of Ser Fenris

"Forgive me."

He was leaving. He was actually leaving. Marian wasn't entirely sure exactly how this had happened, considering she'd just woken up. How was a girl supposed to have a Very Important Conversation in a post-coital nap fog? Especially when what she really wanted to do was be all coital again. All things considered, she was grateful he hadn't just bolted while she was asleep. Something in her gut told her that if she let him walk out that door right now, he would not only leave her, but leave Kirkwall and she would never see him again. That she could not bear.

"Fenris, wait."

He stopped, but did not turn. His head was hanging so low she was pretty sure his chin would be bloody from banging on the pointy bit at the top of his chest piece.

"Please. Wait. There is nothing to forgive unless you actually walk out that door right now, but there are things I need to say. Give me a minute, please." Self conscious for perhaps the first time in her life, she stood and reached for her robe, shivering slightly at the silky chill of the fabric moving to cover her warm skin.

He turned slowly, hang dog, facing-a-firing-squad reluctant to look. "You're angry."

She shook her head. "No. ... Yes. ... No. ... Not at you. Maybe at me." She ran her hand vigorously through the short, choppy strands of her black hair. It wasn't enough. She fisted it in both hands and pulled enough to sting a bit. She growled in aching frustration, all too aware of how critical the next few words she spoke were going to be to any future she might have with this man, romantic or not. Fenris looked up at her and seemed a tad alarmed at her shenanigans. "Definitely at me."

If anything, Fenris slumped even more dejectedly at her words. "You have done nothing wrong. It is I who..."

"No." She held up a hand. "It's my turn. And you've done nothing wrong, so please stop looking like someone kicked your puppy or I'll start crying because I can't stand to see you hurting and my eyes will get red and my face blotchy and my nose will run and nobody wants that." She walked past him casually to her dresser where she poured a basinful of water from the pitcher waiting there. With a slight wave of her hand and a whispered word, she spelled the water ice cold, just above freezing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she was gratified to see that Fenris didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow out of place at her use of magic. So far removed from the first time they'd camped overnight on the Wounded Coast. He'd fallen backwards off the log he'd been sitting on when she'd made the fire pit he was next to burst into flames. Her profound apologies had fallen on deaf ears and he'd spent the night as far away from her and the campfire as possible. It had taken both threats from him and bribes from her and the better part of two months for the others to stop teasing him about it.

She lowered her face to just above the basin, dipped her hands in and splashed the water once, twice, three times over her face. She only did her 'girly-squeak' the first time. Hawke studiously ignored Fenris coughing into his hand, presumably to cover an involuntary chuckle. Maker, she hated mornings. And mornings hated her right back. She dried her face with the hand towel sitting in its place next to the basin, took a deep breath, let it out and turned to face him.

Fenris raised his eyes, just his eyes, to look at her as she turned, but lowered them again quickly rather than meet her gaze. His posture hadn't changed much but she did note a tension that, to her, indicated he seemed resigned to his conversational fate and no longer ready to bolt out the door. Odd how men were the same Thedas over, no matter their age, race or experience with women. Tell them you need to talk and they would rather have the hairs pulled off their testicles one by one.

"Relax, Fenris." She walked slowly until she stopped in front of him and slowly raised an arm until she hooked a finger underneath his chin, lifting it gently. His eyes darted to hers and then flashed away like leaves blown off the trees in a gale. He drew in a quick breath and seemed to hold on to it forever.

"Don't look down, love. Stare at the wall, stare at my chin if you don't want to meet my eyes. Maker, stare at my breasts," his breath finally huffed out in a half chuckle/half snort at that, "but not the floor. Please don't hide from me."

Fenris flinched, almost imperceptibly. "When I was a slave, making eye contact was forbidden. Looking at the floor was demanded and I was well trained. Conditioned. Even now, doing so is easier. Safer." He sounded bitter, full of self-loathing.

Hawke slid her hand to cup his cheek briefly, stealing a stroke of the tender skin by the corner of his eye with her thumb before she took her hand back to herself, the warmth of him lingering. "You did that a lot when we first met, with everyone. Did you know that now you seem to do this only with me and only since we've become closer friends? That within our group, even with strangers, you are confident and convicted-often outspoken- in your beliefs and opinions on the rare occasions when you share them? Anders has even complained that you give him a "belligerent stare" every time you argue with him."

Fenris raised his head further, looked her in the eye. He spoke slowly. "I was not aware."

Hawke smiled gently at him. "It's a good thing. A very good thing. Yet you seem to be the only person unaware of how far you've come in so short a time. Come, sit by the fire. I have something for you. And remember: breasts good, floor bad."

Fenris managed a smirk and a quirked eyebrow at the same time. "You... want me to stare at your breasts?" His face fell. "Even after tonight?"

"Well, it would have to make a nice change from staring at my hindquarters, since I always take point when we're out doing what we do."

"Watching you walk is... not unpleasant."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Flatterer. But I didn't virtually threaten you with a flying body tackle a minute ago just to make you feel worse than you already do. So sit." She pointed to her favorite comfy chair. Fenris removed his sword and took his seat at the edge of the armchair by the fire. If he held himself any stiffer, a good push on his shoulder would break him in two.

Hawke went to her armoire (and admitted to herself that she threw in an extra little hip wiggle on the way) and took out a small wooden box wrapped with a bright red ribbon. She felt her gut clench itself in knots just as she clenched the box in her hands. Maker, please don't let him take this the wrong way. Please don't let me be making a colossal mistake. She walked back to stand by the fireplace in front of Fenris, unconsciously mimicking the stance he'd been in when she'd waked.

She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and let it out in a rush. All of which prompted Fenris to wrinkle his forehead in concern and, if it were possible, become even more tense. Hawke would laugh if she wasn't so worried about what was going to happen in the next few minutes.

"You know, Fenris, together you and I are four different people."

He blinked in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"We are each a separate individual in this, our personal friendship or relationship or whatever it becomes. But we are also separate individual members of a team." Hawke paused, and sighed. "A team where I'm somehow the leader. And I am particularly aware of how difficult things could be for the two us-es that are teammates if things go horribly wrong for the two us-es that are ... more than teammates. Have I made any sense?"

"None whatsoever."

Hawke started to pace in frustration. She resisted the urge to look at Fenris and see if he was watching her breasts or not. "So, the two Hawkes have different ways of relating to the two yous, Fenris and Warrior-Fenris, if you will. Marian, the Hawke who is your friend, wants your lo... companionship and your time. She teaches you to read because you have a brilliant mind and deserve to have that world of knowledge, fiction and the enjoyment of reading laid at your feet, even though it means Varric and Isabela now corner you and make you read their dreck. Marian is the person who delights in watching Fenris's face light up when you win a round of Wicked Grace or eat something for the first time that you find delicious. She's who you try to teach Arcanum and Tevine and the Qun to even though her mind isn't nearly as bright as yours and she knows it.

"The other Hawke takes Warrior-Fenris on all her missions because she knows you are strong and incredibly skilled and that you have her back. She bites her tongue rather than laugh at your sardonic comments because the leader is supposed to remain impartial. Hawke knows that she can trust you not to sell her out to the templars, as tempting or as lucrative as that might be, because she knows you are as loyal to that Hawke as her mabari, though she doesn't always deserve it. Even though Hawke is a mage. Hawke's favorite thing to do is to fight slavers by Warrior-Fenris's side, so Marian can watch, elated, as Fenris learns to ENJOY his freedom as much as you both treasure it. Right now I want to talk to you as Hawke, the leader of your team." Hawke stopped pacing in front of Fenris's chair and waited, expectantly, for him to say something.

A smile, that very small (so small it's a '1/4' and not a '1/2') smile, was on his face. "I believe I understand. Are you aware that you are monologue-ing? "

Hawke laughed, grateful for anything to ease her tension. "Yes, well, if you were waiting for an opportunity to kill me, a second story window is placed for your convenience along the outside wall." His return laughter helped her relax just a bit more. Maybe this would turn out alright after all.

"You recently reminded me that it has been more than three years since you came to Kirkwall. That three years is longer than you've stayed anywhere. And I remembered a conversation that Marian had with Fenris during the very early days of their friendship, about how Fenris thought it might be nice to stay somewhere long enough to put down roots. And Hawke realized that you had, or she hoped you had. Put down roots, I mean." She gestured with the box in her arms, to call his attention to it.

"This is meant to commemorate the fact that you are a part of something, that you belong here. With us. Your friends. On our team, in our family, where we have your back as you have ours. On my team, where I would lay down my life for yours as you would for mine. I've had this for a while now, first because I couldn't figure out how to give it to you and second because I realized after I had it made that you might think it signified ownership rather than membership. I'm giving it to you now because... because Marian is afraid you are about to leave Kirkwall and never come back. Hawke doesn't want that to happen without you realizing how important you are to her, to our circle of friends." With a half chuckle, half sob, she forced out the words, "Well, maybe not to Anders, but to the rest of us." Throat aching with tears she refused to shed, she held the package out to him and waited.

Fenris took the gift from her with a look she couldn't read to save her life. He held it in both hands while it rested on his lap. After a moment made heavy with silence and utter stillness, he lifted one hand and traced the curves of the bow formed by red satin ribbon to hold the box closed. "I... appreciate the gesture." He took hold of the end of the ribbon and pulled, carefully untying the bow in a manner painfully reminiscent of the way he'd untied her robe earlier.

Lifting the lid, he removed the miniature shield from its box with an audible indrawn breath. For a moment, he just stared at it, while she stared at him. Fenris gently traced the stylized wings of the hawk and after a lifetime he looked up and met her eyes, his expression inscrutable. "This is your family crest, Hawke."

"And you are part of my family." Her eyes filled with tears (damn it) as his face softened, his expression equal parts longing and regret. Marian spoke again, her voice husky. "Look at the top of it. I wanted this to be a useful gift, one that wouldn't be likely to be taken from you if, Maker forbid, you were ever captured."

Fenris rotated the crest in his hands until he found what she wanted him to find. The crest, which was designed to be worn on his belt, was rather thick. Given the quality of the wood and the craftsmanship involved in the making of the stylized design, he'd found the thickness odd until he located the hidden features. He pulled a small and extremely sharp stiletto out of one side of the top of the crest, a garrote out of the center and a simple set of lock picks out of the other side.

Fenris smiled up at her and she could breathe again. "Beautifully made and yet practical as ever, I see. You are aware that I do not know how to use these." He gestured to the lock picks.

Marian smiled and wiped the corner of her eye under the guise of sweeping her hair back, but she was fairly certain Fenris wasn't fooled. "Varric has been waiting for three weeks for me to work up the nerve to give this to you and he's a little too eager to teach you how to use them. The foolish dwarf thinks he'll get to stay behind more if you prove to be as quick a study as he thinks you will."

Fenris returned her smile. "Then I shall endeavor to appear fumble fingered." He carefully replaced the secret items in their hidden places and then stared at the shield. After a moment, his smile faded and he sighed. He returned the crest to its box and set it on the floor next to his sword. "At the risk of worsening this sudden identity crisis of ours, may I speak with Marian now?"

Hawke wrapped her arms around her middle protectively. "Um, that depends."

Fenris looked puzzled. "On?"

"Can Marian monologue?"

The look he gave her could only be described as fondly, gently exasperated. "If she must."

She pointed at him with a shaky finger. "And... and you're going to have to ignore it when she cries. Because I know you're hurting but she is, too, and women cry when they get emotional. Even Aveline." And there they were. The tears started rolling before she'd even made her joke about the stoic guard captain.

Fenris leaned forward, as much as he could in his breastplate, and hid his face in his hands. "No. Please, Hawke. Marian. Don't. I can't..." He dropped his hands to his knees and began to stand. "I must go."

Marian stepped closer and dropped to her knees in front of the chair. Her proximity forced Fenris back to his seat, to avoid touching her. She focused her gaze on the tops of his feet, wiping her face and then sitting back on her heels after watching Fenris's foot jerk when a drop landed on it.

"Listen. Just listen and then you can leave and we never have to talk about this again unless you want. It'll be your choice, I promise, but I have to say this." She gently and carefully put her hand on his knee, heart clenching when he pulled away. Marian's tears fell faster and she stopped trying to wipe them away. She looked up and took her own advice, staring at his chin when she couldn't face the anguish in his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Fenris. I'm so sorry. We moved too fast tonight but that's my fault, not yours. Knowing how traumatic dealing with Hadriana was for you, how much turmoil you were in... I was overwhelmed by what I was feeling, but that's no excuse. I... it was selfish of me and unfair to you. You told me that you can't remember having had romantic relationships or even just sexual encounters. The way you react to accidental touches, to receiving help when you are hurt... I am afraid, so afraid, that you have altogether too much experience with the involuntary kind. And if I am right about that, if you have been ... conditioned to ... do things you don't want to do, then I have done you the worst sort of disservice tonight.

"You and I have danced around each other for years now, flirting, teasing. But tonight was our first kiss, our first touch. And for both our sakes, that kiss probably should have stopped there for now even if my suspicions are incorrect. And I say that after having waited more than two whole years for it. Maker, we haven't even held hands yet and that's supposed to come first." The hand she'd left next to his leg twitched in what must be an unconscious invitation to do just that.

"You are... not wrong. About my history."

The moan she let loose at those words could have come from a wounded animal and yet if there had been any ambient noise in the room, he would never have heard it. The tears started a double time forced march down her face. Marian covered her mouth with one hand, bowed her head and closed her eyes, unable to look at Fenris anywhere at all, from his toes to his nose.

Something pulled the words out of him reluctantly; a desire to comfort and reassure that was completely foreign to him. "I have never known touch for comfort or pleasure, only for pain. For punishment. Or for someone else's pleasure." Lifting his right hand was harder than trying to use his two handed sword one handed without activating his markings. But he managed to gently touch the wrist of the hand covering her mouth, startling her into looking up at him. "Please believe me when I say there was nothing I have ever wanted more than to be with you tonight. No matter what happens between us in the future, I will cherish having made love with you for the rest of my life."

"Then why?" Marian gave an anguished whisper and rested her head on his knee. He could feel her tears soak into the leather.

Giving comfort came more easily this time. He stroked his right hand gently across her head, his voice as anguished as hers. "I looked through a window tonight that I never expected to be opened, everything I had ever wanted to know about my history laid bare before me. And when that window closed again, gone were all the answers to all the questions I have about my life before these markings. Part of me wants to try again, as you have generously offered. But the larger part of me is... is scared that if it doesn't happen, or happens and is lost again, something in my mind, something in my soul will break and I will not recover. You know me well enough to understand what I do when I am truly afraid."

Marian sighed. "You run."

"I do. And while I will run tonight, I promise I will not run far or be gone long. I need to feel the wind blow by me, expanding the breath in my lungs, straining them until I can barely breathe from the exertion." He felt her relax against his legs. "And both of me will miss both of you until I return."

That drew a giggle from Marian and she sat up, rather inelegantly wiping her face on her robe sleeve and drawing an eye roll from Fenris for it. "You are worth waiting for, Fenris. Never doubt that."

He shook his head. "I make no promise that I will ever be able to offer anything but friendship to you, Marian. You deserve so much more than that, but your friendship is a feast the likes of which I have never known; I will ever remain a beggar at that table."

Marian gave him a somber look. "My friendship you will always have regardless, though you give as much to me as I could possibly have given to you. But I realized what I wanted long ago and I will wait-on your terms, without pushing- for you to give me everything you are until you tell me to stop. And mean it."

He slipped off his gauntlets and reached for the box with the crest in it. Fenris managed to avoid looking at Marian at all by the simple expedient of undoing the strap on his belt made to attach pouches and other such things, and threading the crest on to it. "That is a conversation I don't know that I could ever have. Having hurt you unintentionally is tearing me apart. Doing so deliberately... I doubt I could find the words." Crest attached, he fingered the red satin ribbon thoughtfully, before looking up at her. Thoughts were obviously running through his head, hopeful and nervous and hesitant thoughts.

Marian cocked her head at him. "What?"

"Have you had occasion to learn of the Orlesian tradition of grand tournaments, where knights battle to be the winner?"

"Some, but not much. It wasn't really something the little villages we grew up around held." Marian smiled at him.

Fenris took a deep breath and began, sounding as much like a professor as he could manage. "They vary in size and distinction of course, but the idea is that knights compete in the 'knightly arts', sometimes for a purse of coins or a piece of land. Sometimes that prize included the hand of the daughter of the landholder, something that generally happened only when there was no son to inherit. Regardless of the purpose of the tournament, the ladies present would bestow upon their chosen knight a favor to show the crowd who she hoped would win. He could refuse or remove it later to signify a rejection and she could demand the return of it, also to signify the end of the relationship if ever there had been one. The practice of Courtly Love is as complicated as any blood magic ritual I have been forced to sit through."

He looked at her and smiled, then looked by down at the red silk he was smoothing unconsciously with a thumb. His voice lowered to the point it was almost a whisper. "A favor could be anything from a scarf to tie on a lance, to a handkerchief for tucking into the collar. Or even a ribbon, wrapped around the dominant wrist. All for luck. But the giving of it is always the lady's choice." He stopped fingering the red silk ribbon, but did not put it down.

There was a hopeful, pregnant pause in the room while Marian processed what he'd said and realized that he WANTED her to bestow the favor upon him, but was afraid to suggest it. The smile on her face was only half the size she wanted it to be as she stood. "Put your gauntlets back on." She whispered and he complied with a shaky hand. She could tell this held much meaning for him and neither of them may understand why.

Marian knew that ordinarily the knight would kneel before the lady, but she would never ask Fenris to kneel before her. Never. And so she stopped him from sliding out of the chair to do so by the simple expedient of sitting in his lap. He was startled and tense, but relaxed when all she did was take his right hand in hers. He even scooted them all the way back into the chair to keep her from being in danger of falling.

She searched her brain for every romantic novel her sister and mother had ever read and then told her about in excruciating detail. She thanked her father again for drilling her memory until she could look back and recall those times, though she was sure he never anticipated this sort of need for the skill.

She looked at him, but his gazed was focused on her hands cradling his with the red ribbon lying in its palm. "Good Ser Knight."

He looked up at her words, directly in her eyes. "My Lady, I fear I am not worthy of your kind words. But what would you have of me?"

For a moment she was speechless with the pleasure of being able to look at him so directly. "Nonsense, Ser Knight. I have observed your actions and your skills for some time and have judged you to be the most worthy and noble chevalier I have had the privilege to meet. I find myself in need of a Champion."

Fenris's eyes were soft with pleasure at the game she played. "A Champion, my Lady? Who would dare impugn the character of a woman of such great kindness, unsurpassed beauty and legendary skill on the field of battle?"

She sighed. "Alas, good Ser Fenris, I am beset by villainy. Surrounded on all sides by ruffians who would see me fall, by night and by day. I have good friends at my side, admittedly. But I need a Champion to watch my back, one whose skill with a blade surpasses all others. One whom I trust implicitly. One who will know I am not a fragile flower, despite my admittedly unsurpassed and delicate beauty. One who will appreciate the sway of my hips."

Fenris chuckled, unable to help himself. "And known throughout the kingdom for her modesty."

Marian mock glared at him. "Shush you." She returned to her role. "Yes, my feminine charms have been lauded throughout the land, my favor sought and denied many times. Therefore it is a great honor I bestow upon you, good and humble Ser Fenris. Despite the inherent dangers involved, the times I will push your kind nature beyond endurance and knowing in advance that you will not ever be able to simply throw me over your shoulder, carry me home and lock me in? Wilst thou accept my favor and be my Champion?"

Fenris bowed his head and lifted his right arm at a convenient height for her to wrap the ribbon around. "I am unworthy of such praise, my Lady, though I would never deny the honor you do me with your request. Wearing your favor, knowing all that it signifies, is something I shall be proud of and honored by every day until such time as you may request it back from me."

She began wrapping the fortunately long silk ribbon about his wrist, crisscrossed each time so it would not slip at a bad moment. As she was tying the knot and sliding it under a layer of the wrapping, she smiled. "Fear not, Ser Knight. That day shall never come. Unless you really do throw me over your shoulder and lock me inside my house. There. It is done, my Champion." Without thought, she lifted his arm and pressed her lips to the palm of his hand.

But Fenris did not tense up. He surprised her when she looked up by taking her face gently in his hands, kissing her once on the forehead and once on the lips, with restrained passion. He then lifted her until she was deep in the chair with her legs over the arm, her head and shoulders resting on him. "Rest, my Lady. I shall guard your sleep till daylight and then I shall take my leave."

Marian snuggled in a bit and rested her arm on top of the one he had wrapped around her waist. "I understand, my Champion. It would please me if you would see Bodhan in the kitchen on your way out and request provisions for yourself for however long you feel you need them."

Fenris spoke in a lazy, contented voice she had never heard before. "You do realize that carrying along a heavy pack makes it impossible to feel the wind in my hair as I run as fast as I am able?"

Marian smiled against his breastplate. "At least you'll still feel your lungs burning from carrying it."

He stroked her hair with his free hand. "Rest, Marian."

A quiet, relaxed moment passed between them, when just as Marian was about to drift off, Fenris shifted a bit. She 'hmmmed?' at him sleepily.

"I just thought of something you said earlier. That you had been waiting for this to happen for more than two years. But we've known each other for more than three." His voice was quiet but puzzled.

She spoke without thinking, drifting away to sleep as she was. "At first I thought you were gorgeous but a bit of an ass. You kinda grew on me." Being able to feel his chuckle rumble through his chest and hear it at the same time was sublime. It was all she needed to send her to sleep.

When she woke, she was in her bed, under the covers. And he was gone. But she believed him. He would be back.