Author's Note: I have never written for Dragon Age before, but more the past couple weeks, I have become re-obsessed with the game and thus, this one-shot was born. Whilst romancing Fenris, a scene played out that still pisses me off to this day. After Hawke's mother dies, Fenris had the audacity to say, "At least you remember your mother." I was so peeved, because here Hawke was grieving and Fenris still had to make it about him. I was all like, "Calm down Fenris, you still win the prize for being the broody one. No need to get competitive." But even still, I adore Fenris. So there ya go.

Hawke sat motionlessly on the bed in his dimly lit bedroom, drifting off into the fireplace across adjacent. The words he exchanged with Gamlen were still ringing in his ears. He felt ashamed of how he responded in the peak of his grief. He reached a shaky hand up to rub his eyes, as if it would remove the image of his mother from his mind. "Mother," he whispered to himself in disgust. Sewn together with Maker knows how many other women. But that grotesque corpse was undeniably still her, if only for a moment. After Hawke deeply imbedded his blade into the skull of that son of a bitch blood mage, Leandra was free. Her presence didn't last long, but it was enough to say goodbye.

For a brief moment, Hawke had forgotten why he was fighting for the freedom of mages. Once he had returned to the estate, Gamlen fed off of that uncertainty, spitting words of hatred and prejudice, which is really only fear in disguise. In his anger, Hawke agreed with his uncle Gamlen. After all, mages are susceptible to the influence of demons. Mages are often pushed to their limits by the Templars, and many innocent people have suffered that outcome. Mages are dangerous.

Gamlen cursed at his nephew, asking him why he didn't leave out the details of Leandra's death. The answer was quite clear to Hawke. It is not fair for him to have to live with the disgusting truth alone. Regardless of the fact that his own niece was a mage, Gamlen insisted that all mages should be locked up somewhere. He may be right about the threat that blood magic poses, but Gamlen's rationale ends there. As images of Bethany, Merrill and Anders flashed through his mind, Hawke was able to remind himself that mages should never be persecuted for something determined at birth. He promised himself that we would never forget that again.

"I don't know what to say, but—" The voice was unexpected, and startled Hawke into glancing up, letting his hand drop to his side. Fenris. "I am here." His body language was lank and uncertain, but his face was lined with concern.

Hawke nodded and gave the best attempt at a smirk he could manage, quietly pondering how Fenris got so close without making a sound to give himself away. Deciding that Fenris wasn't a safe person to discuss his current troubling thoughts with, he concluded that it would be best to push the topic of mages from his mind altogether. "What about your mother?" He asked, craving someone to relate to. Hawke realized that he had never heard Fenris speak of his mother before. "Is she still alive?"

"I—don't know," Fenris replied, taking long strides towards the bed. He sat down next to Hawke, slouching forward slightly, eyes glued to the ground. He continued, "I—have no memory of her." It was quiet for a moment before Fenris bitterly added, "At least you knew your mother."

Hawke's cheeks flushed with an abrupt frustration. Fenris's tone was full of criticism, and Hawke couldn't understand why he would be so insensitive. He tried to shake it off and retreat to dark humor. "Trying to top me, huh?" He chuckled, but it was cold and hollow. After his laughter died out, the room fell silent, save for the crackling from the steady fire. Hawke gazed into the embers again, refusing to look Fenris in the eye. "You really have no idea what you're talking about. I know it's not your fault—but you just don't know." He said slowly, in one deep breath.

"I didn't mean—" Fenris cut off. He inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling cornered. How could he be so tactless? He took a moment to regain composure, and continued, "Your memories of her will keep her alive."

Hawke scoffed as he raised an eyebrow quizzically. "You don't really believe in that bullshit."

Fenris turned his body to face Hawke, face scrunching up in thought. He shrugged hesitantly, and replied, "No, I suppose I don't."

"Don't say what you think I want to hear, or what is supposed to be said for that matter. Tell me what you think. Tell me—what do you believe?" Hawke asked.

Fenris stood, and began to slowly pace about the bedroom. Hawke watched him as he walked, curious about whether or not Fenris would censor his thoughts. It is abnormal for him to do so, but in times of loss, everyone is a liar. Everybody will tell you, "She's in a better place," or "Everything happens for a reason." There is no truth to back up either claim. Sometimes people just die, plain and simple. Both Hawke and Fenris understood that all too well.

"When I said at least you knew your mother, I meant it," Fenris began. "Your memories of her—she raised you, she loved you. Isn't that better than to have never known at all? To always wonder where you're from? I'm not saying that you shouldn't grieve, but rather, recognize that you did everything in your power to—"

"Stop," Hawke demanded. "I've heard enough."

"You did all that you could!" Fenris persisted, ignoring Hawke's dismissal. "You did everything in your power to bring your mother home safely. You brought that cursed magister to justice, but there just wasn't enough time to—"

"Stop!" Hawke shouted, jumping to his feet. "You think I did all that I could? You think that I should forgive myself so easily because at least I tried? I didn't try. I was too busy being an errand boy for Orsino and getting involved in Qunari politics! And for what? You and the others see me as the Champion of Kirkwall. That I'm fighting for the people. But what have the people ever done for me? Everybody I love is expendable as long as I keep up the fight. But why?" As the wrath grew in him, Hawke stomped around the room furiously, suppressing the urge to punch a wall. She received the white lilies. There was time.

"These are dark times." Fenris responded. "You know that better than anybody. Whether the people deserve it or not, you put yourself at risk and make sacrifices every day to ensure a better world. You endanger yourself with your association with these mages—"

"Now is not the time to rub my nose in the fact that I—"

"I'm not." Fenris interjected without apology. "I'm merely stating that in times such as these, casualties are unavoidable. I'm sorry if that sounds cold."

Hawke widened his eyes, taken aback. "But why am I never the one to pay the price? Directly, I mean. Carver—Bethany—Mother—They're all dead! And look at me!" Hawk suddenly pulled at the belt of his robe and hurled the clothing to the ground in a frenzy, exposing his all but naked body. "There isn't a scratch on me!"

Fenris took this in, feeling vaguely frightened. He had never witnessed Hawke act like this before. He was a man that so effortlessly retained his good wit even in the most stressing of times. Now, Hawke was frozen in a look of utter despair, his face flushed red and eyes smoldering. It was a disturbing sight. Fenris wasn't sure why, but he wanted nothing more than to pull Hawke in close and kiss him regardless. Instead, he remained collected, doing his best to conceal the temptation.

Hawke took a few deep breaths to calm himself before he spoke again. "Please don't tell me that I am better off with these memories, because I'm not. I loved my family more than I could ever express, but I would readily forget them all if it meant that I didn't have to suffer through them being ripped away from me. It's like giving a starving beggar food only to kick it out of his hands, letting everything spill to the floor. I'm telling you Fenris—it's not worth it."

Fenris took a small step forward, and when Hawke didn't draw back, he closed the distance a bit more. He furrowed his eyebrows in worry, and brushed his hand along Hawke's cheek lightly. "I stand—corrected. I am sorry, Hawke." Fenris was ashamed of how thoughtless he had been in the worst possible moment. There was nothing more he could say to express that regret. Hawke's posture was gradually easing, and Fenris couldn't help being distracted by how attractive he was. Fenris slowly leaned in, and stopped just as his face was mere inches away. It took an immense amount of strength to abstain from meeting Hawke's lips, but he refused to take the next step.

It was like someone flipped a switch. One moment, Hawke was overwhelmed with anger and disgust, and the next—His grief was still there, but with such a simple gesture, Fenris managed to push it back. "Thank you." Hawke whispered. His expression softened and his stance relaxed. He wrapped his arms around Fenris's shoulders and kissed him lightly. He then pulled away, but only slightly. When Fenris attempted to advance again, Hawke continued to pull back, ever so subtly. His lips curved into a guilty smile. Fenris hated—and loved—these games.

The elf placed his hand on the back of Hawke's neck, accepting the challenge."There is no escaping me," He sniggered, kissing him with more force. Hawke couldn't keep up the competition for long. Shivers went up and down his bare back as strong, rough hands gripped him firmly. He couldn't think; he could scarcely breathe. He just gave in to the touch he craved. He felt himself being slowly pushed towards the bed behind him. He followed the understated direction, and pulled Fenris along with him. He pushed Fenris on his back, and climbed on top. Before continuing, he stared down at Fenris with a wryly smile.

Fenris's expression changed in an instant. His eyes were suddenly sad, and Hawke was convinced he detected fear. "Last time," Fenris began with an apologetic sigh, "When I left. I'm sorry. I don't know if I'm ready to—to—"

Hawke playfully rolled his eyes and swatted the troublesome thought away. He turned over and remained on his side, propping his head up with his hand, elbow resting on a pillow. "Don't worry about it. We'll take it slow." Fenris was appreciative, but disappointed in himself. The last time they were intimate, it was the best night of his life. It was the greatest moment readily available in his memory, at least. But the cost was too high. The flashes of memories he endured were unbearable. Instead of letting Hawke help him, he ran away. Fenris decided that for him to cross that line again, he must be willing to open his heart to Hawke when the time comes to deal with the repercussions.

They two of them remained still for a long while, not physically touching, but taking pleasure in each other all the same. After some time elapsed in silence, Fenris began chuckling lightly. "What are you laughing at?" Hawke questioned.

Fenris shrugged, fell silent, and then began laughing again. He was unable to control it. "It's just—nice knickers."

Hawke looked down, and immediately joined in the laughter. They were fine Orlesian silk, deep burgundy, and a bit tighter than he would have liked. In the heat of the moment, Hawke forgot that his robe was thrown to a heap on the floor. "They're from Isabella, which shouldn't surprise you. When we returned from the Deep Roads, she claimed that she wanted to get me something nice for bringing her along for the ride. I should have known it wouldn't be some nice gold cufflinks."

"She is a very peculiar woman," Fenris shook his head, an expression of amusement still lightening his features.

Hawke was happy to put his anger directed at Fenris behind him. They spent the next hour or so talking, kissing, and just enjoying each other in silence. It was a pleasant distraction for both of them. In the safety of these walls, they darkness of the outside world couldn't touch them.

Fenris stayed the night.

Particularly since I have never written a Dragon Age story before, reviews are greatly appreciated. I have some other longer story ideas brewing, so please let me know if it would be of interest. Thank you for reading ^.^