I don't own anything related to Bioware, including the game Dragon Age one and two as well as their characters.
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Fenris looked at the cover closely. It was, or once was, a lovely shade of blue with golden lettering. Now that he had a proper look, he could make out what was once written very carefully. Her name, Hawke, now half glittering and half faded, shown from the light of the candles. He smiled softly, wondering what could be inside. If it was a journal of some sort, of course he wouldn't read it. That would be an invasion of her privacy after she even told him he couldn't read it. Then again, she did much against his advice as well…
Regardless, he had to open it to find out. The first page made him want to rip the book in two, if he had less sense.
Those eyes. Those deep, sexy tortured looking eyes. They were so blue. Mother said not to cause trouble, but surly she would be gazing into his eyes just as mesmerized as I did. I think his name was Anders? I'm not sure really, I highly doubt there's much of a chance of us becoming anything. He'll probably wind up trying to kill me like everyone else in this city. Sister says I shouldn't draw attention to us, but the smell of blood running down my blades and the screams of the damned already tell me what I do is wrong. But is it a sick satisfaction to start to….enjoy it? I know death is something best avoided, but after my time in that man's care the only pity I feel is for slaves, and even that is limited. He says it's the same, that mages are enslaved by the Templars. What about the mages who willingly give themselves to demons? Anders preaches about mages, but I don't listen. It's a turn off to be told again and again that my sister is a mage. Like I'm going to go "Oh, you're right! I never noticed!" or something like that. Mage blood and Templar blood have both been stained on my steel. The sooner he learns how good my aim is, the easier we'll get along. But between him and the dwarf, I think I'll stick to those sexy blue eyes. He seems well built too. I wonder what those feathers hide…
Fenris would be lying if he said that didn't bother him. It really bothered him. He had no idea Hawke had once been so…bloodthirsty. The part about Anders ticked him off, but to see this…in place of his sarcastic, lucky Hawke… It was something he had not even considered. This WAS a journal of her's, and he knew he should not pry, but… well, if this was on the first page, what else about her doesn't he know? Reaching for his glass of wine, he took a large gulp of the velvety smooth drink before he turned the page. This, made him laugh.
Sex appeal. Why does she have so much sex appeal? It isn't fair for the rest of us dull girls! Varric disagrees with me, so does Bethany, but they can't deny she has very large…daggers… I can't stand being with her. She makes me look so….homely…. I believe her name was Isriella? Ariella? Oh those aren't it. Isabela I suppose? Her moves in the bar mesmerized me. She has so much beauty, and she's deadly. She asked for my help and quite honestly, I accepted half hoping to learn something from her. Maybe I should move my hips more, or show some cleavage? Maybe get a tan so I can look exotic like her. Well… instead of watching her move, more people tried to kill us. Again. But she offered to help me. Now I just need to return this amulet… Ah why can't anyone fix their own lives. I think it might only be wishful thinking, but Anders seems to be giving me a look lately… one I haven't had before… hmm.
Except for the part about Anders, that was an interesting entry. He took a sip from his wineglass, but found it empty. When he lifted the bottle, it too was empty. Sighing, he closed the book. The candle was dimming and his eyes were weary. He could read more in the morning. Hawke was going to check up on Isabela's location since she left and would be gone for the day. He wouldn't have to worry about her suddenly sneaking up on him. Fenris wondered silently if the pirate had known Hawke had admired her so. The two got along well but they were far from sisters. Maybe that's why Hawke was so hurt when she didn't return, like they joked she would.
He stretched his legs outward before standing. The broken tile was cold on his feet, almost numbing. If Hawke found out he read this, he was sure she'd be angry. That he was alright with, he expected her hate already anyway. But…he was a bit curious. She had written about Isabela and that mage. Might there be something about him? Would he want to know if there was? He stood after a moment of thought. Curiosity overtook him as his grip on the book tightened. He made his way to the bed, book in one hand, dimming candle in the other. His shadow danced on the walls and his feet made soft patting noise.
When he drew close to his bed, he lit the other candle with the dying flame. A brighter glow illuminated his borrowed room and he sat on the edge on the bed. Perhaps it was best to read it today, and return it promptly tomorrow? He wouldn't skip though every page of her life, merely…look for pages related to himself. After all, it concerned him and therefore he should know, right?
He opened the book, scanning each unread page briefly before stopping. On one page there was a simple sketch. One she had obviously spent much time drawing. It was of a woman, with long hair tied in a low ponytail. The woman was drawing back a bow, her eyes intently staring at something far off. That far off thing was a tree, a rose pinned to the trunk. The woman was obviously shooting an arrow at the rose. As Fenris looked closer, he saw the woman's face was remarkably similar to Hawke's. Did she know archery? Could a mage learn any other skill besides magic? He silently wondered if her hair had ever been so long then promptly dismissed the thought.
Turning the next page carefully, he was the entry he was looking for.
Well…damn. Damn it all to the Void. I've never hated being a mage so much. It's a burden on my family, punishment for all mankind, plights and demons and what not…but what really damns the whole thing is HE hates mages. Why couldn't he have had a better past? Maybe then I'd have a better shot? Oh who am I kidding… he's perfect in every way. Not in a creepy, obsession way I mean. I respect him. And his looks aren't bad either. And he has dreamy eyes. Strictly professional thoughts.
I wonder if his skin is as warm as it looks to touch…
WELL, not much thought there. Just…well… oh Maker, I've fallen for him. Hard. Anders is sexy as well but Fenris…he has this aura…this…broody i-hate-the-world-i-was-a-slave aura that I've never felt before. I thought maybe it was just attraction purely physical but…his voice sends a delightful prickle down my body. I could listen to him all day…
And he's such a gentleman! He said he was a slave but he acts as if he were a prince. Maker knows I need my prince already, Anders in starting to piss my off with his self-righteous mage bull…
Maker damn it.
He chuckled away the awkward feeling. Truth be told, he was a bit tongue tied when he met her. A beautiful woman who happily helped him, and even after he snapped about the mage bit she still had laughed and flirted. It was a happy experience. He smiled softly and turned the pages, looking for specifically something she would have written.
"Ah," He sighed, closing the book. The pages after the Arishok had been torn out. And it seemed he had a guest. The door clanged shut, the lock echoed loudly through his (borrowed again) halls. The sound of silk slippers rushed to his (again, borrowed) room. Hawke stood leaning on the doorframe, panting. He wondered how quickly she had run here. Eyeing the book in his hands, her face morphed into a look of sheer horror, then steely defiance.
"Fenris!" She cried, flicking her hand up and taking the book from his grasp. It flung not to her, but across the room into the fireplace. If she had meant to toss it in the fire, she'd be disappointed the only fire lit was his candle. A flurry of ash shot around where the blue book landed. He chuckled, trying to hide the sense of guilt seeping into his mind.
"Ah…knock first?" He tried at a joke. Her eyes were cold, and he knew her usual humor wasn't coming anytime soon.
"Did you like the stories? Did you read the one with my personal feelings? Why, silly me, of course you did. Its written on your face." That frosty look was starting to chill him. She collapsed in his doorway, using one hand to balance herself on the door frame and the other to cover her face.
Immediately he sprung from the bed and was by her side in strides. He knelt down and rubbed her back gently. She glared at him.
"You…are quite the artist…" he couldn't meet those eyes. She said nothing for a moment. Then a strong force shoved him away from her and pinned him on the floor. She held down his arms and looked right in his eyes.
"Why?" She seethed. "Why would you pry into something so personal? I could have told you anything, you didn't need to steal it and pry into my life. Why Fenris?" She all but spat.
Now, he could easily fling her off of him, but she had every right to be angry. So instead he met her eyes and gave her a serious look.
"Is it so wrong of me to want to know more of the woman I love?"
If Hawke had anything to say Fenris didn't let her say it. He snaked his arm around her and pulled her close to his body. Their lips met, and he could feel the anger slipping slowly out of her. When he felt like she had calmed, he released her. She stared at him, stunned, before hugging him tightly. In his ear, her voice came out as a whisper.
"If you leave me again after that I will probably have to kill you."
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Ok, this will probably be my last story… I love Fenris believe me but I've completely tapped out of ideas. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. With work and school I didn't exactly work too much on this but hey…
Thank you all for reading my stories! You've all been wonderful and so very helpful!