A/N: Somehow different from my normal writings. Reviews are much needed.

Prompt: Snow and Fenbabies.

"Papi, venitludere!" squealed the lump of furs and damp clothes frolicking around the snowy field, leaving behind light foot trails in the snow. Little chubby hands protected by thick mittens clumsily rolled a small ball of frost with all seriousness, though she hummed loudly all the while. His daughter, Fenris mused, entertained herself in some of the oddest ways. The child certainly did not get that from him, seeing as how he could not stand the cold, especially with his habit of wearing no footwear despite the thick material of his attire. But his son…

The elf sent a glance to his left where his daughter's twin was curled in a thick woolen blanket and bundled to the brim with furs to keep warm. The four year old boy was covered so thoroughly that only the tips of his pointed ears and moss green eyes showed under thick black hair and a rather distracting fleece hat. Eyebrows exactly like his own were furrowed, and Fenris had no doubt that his son was either brooding or pouting. Possibly both. The elf resisted the urge to laugh at the irony. Broody babies, indeed, Varric.

Fenris turned back to his daughter, and was mildly disconcerted to see that the fist-sized snowball she had rolled minutes before had now grown to half her size. Even now, as she pushed it around with fierce determination, it swelled, collecting in a ball of hard-packed snow that was quickly gaining height on his tiny waif of a daughter. What was she doing? The father was at a loss as to her purpose; but then again, in light of her high, childish laughter, she most likely had no purpose that he could understand.

She was much like Hawke in that way.

Thinking of his wife made him look to where she was sitting in the snow, just as protected against the snow as their little star. The woman sang along with Stella's high pitched warbling, her low alto reaching him and rubbing along the warmth in his chest. The black apostate was grinning as she looked up and met his eyes. "Fenris!" she called with a bit of a wave. "Why don't you and Malcolm come here and play with us?"

"Yes, yes!" cajoled the little girl. "Venit ludere!"

Beside him, Malcolm burrowed further into the furs, his eyes willful and stubborn. No way, the air around him stirred, you'll have to drag me there. Fenris' lips tilted in a smirk. "I do believe we are content to remain here for the time being," he answered the two girls. In response, the boy wiggled his way closer to his father's side, pressing himself there.

"Spoil sport!" laughed Hawke.

Stella giggled, "Praedaludo!" she mimicked with delight. She shoved at the large snow ball - more of a boulder now, really - with her entire body. Fenris' unease surfaced once again, though his wife's laid back demeanor soothed the worst of it away. What if Stella was squished under the thing? It was taller than her!

"Isn't she going to be squished, Papa?" questioned Malcolm with a worried tone. "It's so big!"

Malcolm was the eldest by eight minutes, but watching him react to the world with his sister made him seem at least a year older. The boy was perceptive, remaining silent while his sibling flittered about like a bird. Fenris laid a long fingered hand on top of his son's head. "Your mother is watching carefully," he pacified. "As are we, yes?"

The boy nodded so fiercely that his body followed. A laugh left Fenris as he gathered his son in his arms and made his way to the rest of their family. The ground was covered in snow - and where it wasn't, there was the cold brown dirt of the region, and sometimes even slick ice that dotted the scape in hidden patches. Fenris was careful of the ice - in the first winter here in Fereldan with Hawke, he'd slipped more often than not and, while he had mostly managed to catch himself before he hit the ground, he always had to use both hands to grasp something.

The wad of fur and fleece in his arms squirmed as they came closer to his mother, so Fenris put the boy down a yard away. Just as barefoot as his father, Malcolm launched himself at the woman, tucking his cold toes and legs back into the blankets and coats as Hawke snuggled him into her own. Stella toddled over to the two, her apparent goal having been completed or simply forgotten in the face of her brother with their mother. She imitated her twin and nestled in the cocoon of warmth Hawke provided by her magic. Hawke smiled gently, her head bowed and arms wrapped around them both.

Seeing his family together made his heart swell. All three were his world: one of button-noses, gold-green eyes and chocolate skin. Pointed ears, bare feet, his nose, her smile. Fenris swallowed thickly. He had thought himself a free man, before, after his former master had been killed, but he knew that being with his family - his wife, his children - had given him true freedom. He was lucky.

He stepped around the massive snow ball (it reached his waist!) and ignored the wet freezing his toes; instead, he sat and curled around his family as Stella began to babble in a happy mixture of common and Arcanum. Malcolm listened and watched his sister with one ear pressed against his mother's heart. Hawke's smile only grew as she leaned against Fenris, who snaked his arms around her waist to where a light bump was already growing.

Their third child.

He was happy.