A/N: Fenris/Fem!Hawke Mage Rivalmance. Varric next. Then I think Fem!Hawke/Sebastian. I'll see what else I can come up with. I'm trying to work on some other stories too. I'm on AO3 as jenaicompris also. I'll try to update both simultaneously. As usual, not beta'd.
She was a mage. No matter her kindness, she was a mage. No matter her beauty, all pale skin and freckles, she was a Maker-damned mage.
She was infuriatingly understanding. And she was infuriatingly beautiful. Where I was all hard angles, she was soft curves. Her hair was the color of fire, not like the Guard Captain's – brilliant and deep, like it would burn me if I dared to touch it. Instead of avoiding my opinion on magic, she allowed me my frustrations and tried her best to explain her own stance.
She showed interest. She flirted, in a subtle and tentative way. In a way that made me want to shake her and take her and all of the things that a man does with a woman that drives him absolutely mad. I cannot tell you if I loved her or hated her but with my Hawke I think that the line was a fine one. She was the kind of person that made it difficult not to like her while in the same moment had you questioning if she was ever actually telling you the whole truth. If she had not been born with magic, she would have made an excellent bard.
She did everything she could to make me feel comfortable around her, aside from stopping using her magic. And it frustrated me. It made it harder to ignore the length of her delicate neck, the curve of her excellent bottom, the fullness of her lips.
The more time I spent with her, the more the need for her grew. Be it because of her treatment of Orana (good) or her insistence that magic wasn't all bad (irritating) or the fact that the noble clothes she wore after returning from the Deep Roads expedition were incredibly daring.
Even after her mother died at the hands of a crazed mage, she could not bring herself to condemn everyone with magic. I wanted to console her but I didn't have the words. We sat in silence but, after several minutes, she rested her temple against my shoulder. She sighed, long-since having cried all that she could. I hesitated but, eventually, slid my arm over her thin shoulders. We remained silent and together until she sat up, craning her neck before lifting a hand to rub at the soreness her position had created. Without thinking, without knowing what it would do to either of us, I lifted my hand and began to rub along the delicate sinews of her neck. The sound of relief she made froze me for a moment before it lit a fire under me. I moved back on her bed and turned, bringing her with me. She was tentative as she settled between my legs but she relaxed as I danced my fingers across her bare neck, over the silk of her expensive dress. I was dying, mesmerized by the feel of her beneath her clothes and the occasional, magnificent noise she made.
Eventually, despite my attempts to will my hands to continue, my fingers grew weary and I let my hands fall away. She leaned back into me with a sigh and I thought I was going to implode or explore or just simply die.
"Thank you," she purred, her temple against my jaw. I did everything I could to keep my breathing steady. "That was exactly what I needed." She hesitated, sitting up before she stood from the bed. Dazed, I stood also. She looked at me with her brilliant blue eyes, the color of the sky, and put her hand on my chest. My heart thrummed as though I had just finished decimating a slew of enemies. "I'm asking you to go now not because I want to, but because I need to. If you stay a moment longer, I won't be able to stop myself from doing something that could very well ruin our tenuous friendship."
I couldn't move. My brain told me I needed to, that I had to respect her wishes, but my feet absolutely refused. I glanced from her eyes to her lips and I was lost.
"Fenris," she warned, moving closer. My hands moved of their own volition to hold her waist. "Fenris," she repeated, breathless as she moved close enough for me to feel her utterance of my name.
"Hawke-" Varric's voice, the damnable dwarf, broke the spell and we jerked apart. Hurriedly and without looking back, I removed myself from her room and her home, glaring at Varric as I passed.
"What's his problem?" I heard him ask but did not hear her reply as I walked into the darkened street.
It took every ounce of willpower within me not to stalk back to her home and take her like I dreamed of. Every night. The ghost of her breath on my skin made me want to drink but when I did, I wanted her more. I was more than a little drunk about two weeks later, after facing Hadriana. After killing her.
I wanted to feel better but I couldn't. I was seething. I couldn't think straight, be it the hatred or the drink, and I found myself waiting for Hawke in her foyer when she arrived home that evening.
"Fenris!" she jumped when she saw me, rushing over but stopping short. "I was worried about you."
I winced but moved over, allowing her to sit beside me. It was the closest we had been since the night in her room after her mother died. I did not look at her, instead inspected my hands. My killer hands. My magical hands.
"I have been thinking about what happened and…while you and I often do not agree, you do not deserve my anger. Her being here was not your fault and I…appreciate what you did for me."
"You do not have to apologize, nor do you have to thank me, Fenris. You should not have to face such things alone. Or anything, really. If you don't want to. But…you are welcome," she settled in, leaning her back against the wall behind her. She was dressed in the same clothes I had seen her in earlier that day, her clothing quite filthy with blood and dirt. Sweat dried her hair to her forehead and her cheeks were flushed; it appeared she had been out searching after me all day, even after the slaver caverns.
"I apologize for having left so suddenly and…for worrying you. I needed to be alone. Facing Hadriana…I remembered everything. All of the torment she put me through, hounding my sleep and making my waking hours unbearable." I stopped, frowning and shaking my head. I stood, unable to sit any longer, and began to pace. I clenched and unclenched my fists as she sat up; I could feel her eyes tracing me as I took my steps. "As a slave, there was nothing I could do in response. I could not…I could not simply allow her to slip through my grasp." I paused, hesitant to reveal the truth. I sighed heavily, shoulders slumping as I halted in front of her. "I wanted to, Hawke. I wanted to let her go, but I just…could not."
"I understand," she responded, causing my hackles to raise.
"How could you possibly understand?" I growled, jerking away from her.
"Quentin," she responded with no malice in her voice. I groaned, feeling like a fool for being so stupid. "I know it isn't the same, Fenris. I understand that what you are talking about is most of the life that you remember, but I do know what it feels like to both want to kill someone for what they've done and to…not quite regret, but hate that you wanted to so much. Part of me feels sick when I think about it and part of me feels empowered."
"I do not," I shook my head, folding my arms over my chest. "This hatred is a sickness. I feel no better than I did before with her dead. I thought I would feel…relief, but I feel nothing but the rage of the memories inside of me. What would you have me do? Would you have me forgive them? Forget everything they have done to me?"
She stood and approached me but did not touch me, shaking her head. "Fenris. You are going to hate me for what I am about to say, but I must say it. You are a slave to your hatred, Fenris, and until you free yourself from it, you will never be able to feel better."
She was right.
I hated her.
And I hated her more because she was right. About all of it. But I was drunk and angry and she was beautiful, even disgusting, and I hated her.
And I wanted her.
I shook my head, threw my hands up into the air, and mumbled about how that wasn't why I came over before I stormed into the night again.
I couldn't avoid her, as much as I wanted to. She needed my help and I promised I would help her whenever she needed me. Even though I could not decide if I wanted to kiss her or kill her.
It was another two weeks before I just could not take it anymore.
I opened the door to her estate to see her halfway through the foyer, dressed in a simple noble dress that betrayed every curve of her body.
"I have been thinking of you without reprieve, endlessly," I growled, coming to stand nearly on top of her. She remained standing still, her chest pressing against mine as she breathed in. My fingers, bare of my normal armor, grasped her gently on her uncovered arms. "Command me to go, and I will."
She lifted her hands, both of them pressing flat against my chest. My hands shifted to her hips and I suppressed a shiver. "And what if I promise to never command you to do anything?"
And I could not stop myself. There was not a single part of me that even thought about stopping as I crushed her to me and finally took the kiss that I desperately needed from her. Her hands slid up, one holding onto the back of my neck and one burying into my hair. I backed her up into the nearest open wall, holding her between me and the stone.
"I will give you one more chance," I spoke, low, against her lips, eyes open to search hers, "to tell me to leave."
She pushed off of the wall and turned us, pressing my shoulders hard against the stone before she pulled me down to mold her lips to mine. At that point, I am not sure I could have left if I wanted to.
I lifted her and could hear her dress tear as she wrapped her legs around me. She didn't even hesitate, jerking it up with one hand and letting it tear passed her undergarments. I held her firmly under her backside, not hesitating to squeeze it as we moved through the house. We hesitated on the stairs, pausing to explore each other before she took my hand and led me to her bedroom. I could see nothing but her, taste nothing but her, and wanted nothing but her.
I want nothing but to say that we made love over and over that night and that I completely and totally embraced everything she gave to me.
The truth is, I cherished every moment, every second, every breath, every sound, every touch, every taste. It was intense and fierce; it was everything I thought it would be and even more.
And then, in the most magnificent moment of my life as she shook beneath and around me with my name echoing off her lips, our backs arching to bring us together. I pulled her up against me and kissed her with all the passion of every unused moment for the years I had known her. And as the shiver of ecstasy passed through me, my mind exploded with memory.
I gasped at the flood of images, flashes of colors and feelings. We collapsed together and as I came down from the euphoria that was joining with Hawke, the memories faded. I nearly cried at the loss of it, unable to breathe for a moment.
Like a coward, I moved away from Hawke and began to dress.
"Was it that bad?" she frowned, sitting up. I glanced at her and my fear was nearly chased away. She was a vision, naked atop her bedspread with her magnificent hair flowing around her like a waterfall of flames.
"It was fine," I waved a hand dismissively but grimaced at this look on her face. "No, that is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have imagined. It just…I cannot."
She blanched, standing after a moment and approaching me. Of all the things I expected her to do, help me dress was not one of them.
"Memories," I blurted, trying to find a reason, an excuse for why I was doing what I was doing. "All of my memories returned in one moment and then they were gone again. To have them and to lose them…I simply cannot."
"I understand, Fenris," she responded, finding one of my pieces and offering it to me. "To have no memory of your life and then suddenly to gain it all and lose it all over again, that must be difficult. I will always be here for you, but I do not expect anything."
In that moment I wanted to hit her more than I could ever remember. How could she possibly be so damned understanding? I wanted her to hate me as much as I hated myself.
I couldn't even muster the appropriate responses, so I just stared at her for a long minute. I couldn't help myself and jerked her to me, crushing my mouth to hers before I left, silently, to talk back to my hatred and wine.
Time spent with Hawke was painful. What made it worse was her gift and offer to teach me to read.
How was I supposed to sit in a room alone with her and not touch every inch of her entrancing body?
I spent so much time with her, I thought I was going to expire from the need. Seeing her around Anders made my blood boil. It wasn't that she was inappropriate – not Hawke – but his damnable puppy dog eyes.
Once, he asked her if she was sure about me. Even though there was not an 'us'. I was getting more drinks so he assumed that I could not hear.
Her response was perfect.
"Yes," she said simply, despite everything I had done, everything I had put her through.
"But he hates what we are."
"Not really, I don't think. He hates what we can do. What mages have done. He is a good man and that is the end of this discussion."
When she faced the Arishok, I wanted to tell her that I loved her. Instead I told her that only the living know victory.
I was petrified by the idea of losing her but I should have known that she would not leave me like that. Still, I could not tell her. Still, I was a coward.
It wasn't until after Danarius came to take me that I realized what I needed to do.
"Give me back my pet and I will leave without incident."
"I'm sorry, I just cannot understand a thing you're saying," she responded. "Did you misplace your nug? Because there are no pets here."
"The elf," Danarius responded, unamused.
"Do you mean Fenris? I'm quite sorry," she frowned, shaking her head, "but to suggest that you have ownership of the man that I love is not something I can abide."
"Oh you love him, do you? I own him. If you will not give him, then I will take him."
"To do so you will certainly have to kill me. And, if you haven't heard, I have a nasty habit of not dying."
And Danarius was the one to fall. I spared Varania, mostly because of the look in Hawke's eyes. I wanted to kill her for what she had done but did not know that if Hawke could take watching me murder the only surviving member of my family. I did not know if I could handle it either.
I left in a hurry, not able to face Hawke or myself. It was hours before she knocked against the door frame. She moved to stand in the doorway . She had bathed and changed since I saw her last; she was dressed in a simple gown made of the same beautiful silk she had been wearing all that time ago.
I made a noise and waved my hand in a gesture I hoped bespoke more than just that I wanted her to stay. Either way, she walked in and took up in the chair beside me. She crossed her legs at the knee and her dress hiked up enough to show me the gentle curve of her calf ending in shoes that were as thin as fabric, wrapped like ribbons around her delicate ankles.
"I just wanted you to know that you aren't alone."
Practically ignoring her, I stared into the flames of the fire in the fireplace I had stolen from my dead master. "What do I do now?"
"Much of the same, I imagine. You were free before, Fenris. Now you just don't have to worry about anyone coming to claim you."
Her words angered me – not because she was wrong, just the opposite. I had been free for years but could not shake the shackles of my hatred.
"I didn't mean to upset you," she said, shifting in the chair. I glanced over and saw her frowning. "I came here to be a friend, not a bother."
"Did you mean it?" I asked, catching in the word 'friend'.
"Did I mean what?"
"What you said to Danarius, about who I am to you."
Her eyes flashed with something and she nodded a little, smiling faintly. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."
"But how?" I stood, moving to the hearth. I faced away from her, hiding the smile that her words brought to my lips.
"It's not as though I have much of a choice in the matter."
Her voice was light and I suppressed a shiver at the idea that she loved me. I still could not look at her, not trusting myself to do so.
"After all I have done? I should not have left like I did, all those years ago. I was a coward."
She stood; I could hear her moving behind me even in her delicate shoes. Moreover I could feel her behind me. But she did not touch me.
"I told you I understand and I did. I do. I don't hold it against you and I never have."
I turned a little, watching her out of the corner of my eyes.
"Can you forgive me?"
She moved closer and I dropped my head forward. Her hand slid onto my shoulder as she brought herself close enough to brush me, her lips close enough to brush my ear. "There is nothing to forgive."
I turned, trapping her in my arms and backing her to the wall beside the fireplace. "I have not stopped thinking about that night for one moment," I sighed, feeling her heart thrumming against my chest and her body pressing against mine with her breath. "If you will have me, Hawke, I will gladly walk through hell at your side."
She lifted her hand from between us and pressed it against my cheek. Tenderness, although not unwelcome, was somewhat foreign. She stroked the bone below my eye gently before her fingers slid back to the base of my neck, interlacing her fingers in my hair.
The unease in Kirkwall grew and her views on magic did not win her any favors with the Knight-Commander. We would run errands for the First Enchanter and every time we discovered a blood mage, I saw it strike a blow to her spirit. Somehow, though, she managed to keep up with the rest of the world.
When I was taken by mages, I cannot say what happened. I do not remember much aside from waking up in the sand with her hands on my cheeks, her lips all over.
"Fenris, Fenris, oh for the love of the Maker, Fenris, wake up," she sobbed, her forehead pressed to mine.
As unromantic as it is, I coughed in her face. She didn't seem to notice even a little as she gasped in surprise, wrapping her arms around my neck to hold me tightly against it.
"Fenris," she sighed, pulling back enough to stand so that she could help me to my feet. "I killed them all, Fenris." She frowned, her dirty, bloodied face streaked with tears. Her hands were outstretched, showcasing the decimated mages and Templars. "But I had to. They took you."
I didn't know what to do so I moved forward, a little shaky at first, and wrapped her in my arms. "But you found me, Hawke. It is…it is all right now."
And truly, it was.
We sided with the mages; even Carver found us to assist. They were never close and he was rarely kind to her, but he stood with her as she fought. As we fought.
"In case we don't…I don't..." she started, faltering as she stood before me, taking a moment before we pressed on to speak.
"Hush," I responded, pressing my finger to her lips. The armor looked harsh against the perfect pink bow. "We will walk out much the same way we are about to walk in, Hawke. Together."
And we did. And we kept on walking, together, out of Kirkwall and into our future.