I...really don't know where I'm going with this.
Relationship fics are...very new ground to me.
I can feel Fenris beginning to slip OOC a little here - he is such a complex character, I really don't think I can do him justice no matter how hard I try.
Ah well.
Reviews are much much loved, even if they are to point out where my writing has fallen down. Don't hesitate to do that btw, I'm lacking a beta and my own proofreading skills are non-existent.
This is a bit of a rambly chapter, nothing really happens, but I find I like examining the more mundane aspects of life that get overlooked.
Is 4000 words too long a chapter? Too short? Just right? I can never be sure. This one just kept going and I decided to cut it off before Aveline and Donnic got involved...was that the right thing to do?
There is every chance that the T rating might end up being changed to an M, depending on where this goes. It's character driven mostly, and where these two are concerned...yeah.
As always, BioWare owns all - I'm just playing with their toys.
A frigid wind gusted down the Viscount's Way, whipping around the awful Robes of Office and biting cold and hard into Hawke's legs sending an involuntary shiver up her spine. Feeling her flesh break out into goosebumps, she cuddled further into the strong grip of Fenris as he escorted her back towards her mansion. Her cold hands were wrapped tightly around the metal of his vambrace of the arm he had linked with hers as she tried to gain some kind of warmth from simply being near him; instinctively, Fenris put his free hand on top of one of hers and pressed his exposed palm onto the back. He never looked at her, nor she at him, but they both wore a content, faint smile despite the chill night air.
They pulled away from each other slightly as they reached the top of the stairs, never letting each other go but giving enough room to step freely without the risk of pulling the other over. This was now a well practiced routine and Fenris was glad that Hawke had taken their first 'accident' to heart. On their first decent back from the Keep together, she had silently insisted on clinging to him and she had ended up pulling both of them down several steps before Fenris regained his balance and hauled a very embarrassed Hawke back onto her feet. She hadn't meant to, he knew this, but she had been so clingy those first few weeks after they had got back together that something was bound to happen. Fenris also knew it was out of fear that she had kept so close to him. She was so scared of him leaving again that it got to the stage where he just had to talk some sense into her, to let her know he wasn't going anywhere any time soon. After that, she had been content to give him space - be it an inch or half a mile. So long as she knew that he would come back, she was satisfied. Even she admitted she didn't know she was sticking to him like glue until he brought it up.
As they descended, the welcome sight of the Hawke estate came into view. It wasn't a flashy building, simply fronted and overgrown with ivy that Hawke refused to have removed ("it adds to the charm" she had stated when her companions were helping her renovate it). Some of the Hightown houses were so ostentatious, adorned with awnings and banners depicting family crests or dressed in such a manner, Hawke wondered if she hadn't been magically transported to Orlais. But not the old Amell estate, the only thing that made it stood out was the two crests either side of the door which Bodahn insisted on polishing until they gleamed. The thin, tall windows were all illuminated, the warm light inside inviting on such a cold evening, and Hawke sighed happily as they neared.
Once upon a time, she had despised the place - all it had held were bad memories and bitter feelings. She had called it an empty relic, devoid of life and love. Fenris knew why, as did Varric and Aveline, but the rest were left to wonder. She had forged into the Deep Roads to get enough money to buy the place back, but she had lost her sister to the Gallows along the way - that was one blow. She had confided in Fenris whilst they were in that blight taken hole that the only reason why she was down there was to get safety for her mother and sister. And with Bethany gone, she believed she had failed. Another blow was losing her mother to that madman. After that fateful night she had been home less and less, spending her time between missions at either the Hanged Man, or in one of Fenris's many spare rooms. She only went home to pick up messages and to check on the servants it seemed.
And yet during the past year, something had changed. Something had settled in Hawke and she had taken to spending more and more time in the estate, though she was often not alone. Her evenings were either spent holding suppers with her companions, or spent with Fenris during one of their many reading lessons in her ever-growing library. Even on the wet days where everything was rained off, she passed the time learning how to play the lute (badly) from Orana, writing letters, or simply reading in peace. Fenris wasn't exactly sure what had triggered it, but Hawke had said something about family and 'savouring what you had'. And he was taken aback and deeply honoured when, one day completely out of the blue, Hawke had said that she classed him as family.
So when she sighed her happy little sigh at the sight of her family home, Fenris couldn't help but smile to himself slightly. In truth, he didn't class his dilapidated mansion as 'home'. It was merely where he lived. No; home, to him, was wherever Hawke was. Be that a rundown hovel in Lowtown, a campsite on the Wounded Coast, or an expansive estate in Hightown. And anywhere in between.
"What are you smiling at?" Hawke asked him as she noticed his expression when he reached for the handle, her eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. Fenris merely let his lopsided smile turn into a devious smirk as he opened the door and muttered "wouldn't you like to know?" in her ear as she passed, causing her to giggle like a lovestruck teenager.
It was only when the moment had passed that they heard the ungodly cacophony coming from further inside the house. Both stared blankly at the open door to the main hall, blinking as they tried to figure out what the racket was made up of. It was Hawke that recognised it first and her eyes began to roll in realisation. A low groan escaped her as her fingers came up to rub at the crease forming between her brows, this was followed by a heavy sigh as she dragged her hand down her face and visibly sagged.
"Merrill." It was spoken in an exhale, shaking her head with the faintest hint of a resigned growl at which Fenris turned to her with an eyebrow raised in questioning. With another sigh, Hawke merely waved him off and began to plod towards the fireplace which glowed welcomingly in the main hall.
"Ever since she learned that Orana is not only good at playing the lute but also a very talented singer she's been…pestering her to teach her how to sing." Hawke told Fenris over her shoulder as he followed her to the fire, her hand absentmindedly finding the top of her Mabari's head as he padded over to her and pressed his shoulder against her leg.
"As you can hear, she's an utterly wonderful singer," she stated flatly, gesturing with her free hand to the tuneless singing that was echoing through the mansion from one of the drawing rooms and gaining a chuckle from Fenris as he was pulling off his gauntlets.
"Maker, how does she manage to get worse with every lesson? And poor Orana's playing beautifully too…" Hawke was straining to hear the enchanting, lilting sounds of the young elf's lute over the loud, out-of-tune wailing that Merrill was doing. She sounded vaguely like a cat being murdered. Very slowly.
"I hope she hasn't been too much of a distraction for Orana, I don't think Aveline and Donnic would be too happy if I put my infamously lazy eggs and bacon in front of them. Again."
"I wouldn't be too disappointed if that was on the menu," Fenris said casually as he began undoing the buckles on his chest plate while wandering towards the stairs.
"Well of course you wouldn't. Maker's breath, you'd live off the stuff if I let you."
"Only if you cook it, Hawke," he smirked at her over the banister of the landing before disappearing into the bedroom to store his armour. Hawke merely shook her head and rolled her eyes at his retreating back and walked towards the room where Merrill was 'singing'.
She entered without knocking, causing the Dalish girl to cut off in the middle of a strangled note with a start - which caused Orana to jump and one of the strings on her lute to snap with a loud twang. Instantly Merrill started babbling at Orana, furiously apologising before bouncing over to where Hawke watched on, utterly bemused by the scene in front of her.
"You're back early Hawke, did your day go well? Is there a problem? I think I'm getting much better at my singing you know, it's like I can hear the improvement in my own voice. Doesn't Orana play beautifully, Hawke? She could play at weddings. Do you know if there's going to be any wedding's soon, Hawke? I love weddings. I think you'd look really pretty as a bri-"
"Merrill! For the fifth time, please slow down." Hawke sounded exasperated as she finally managed to cut off the stream of words that were just spilling out of the over-excited mage girl's mouth. After all these years, Hawke never did understood how she could just keep talking on and on and on about nothing. Hawke was just glad that she had managed to stop her before she forged deeper into the subject of marriage. That was one subject that Hawke wasn't willing to broach just yet. Or at all, if the petulant child side of her got her way - the side that had once told her mother that she'd stay single forever out of rebellion of her mother's unwanted matchmaking ways. Well, she had stayed at least partly true to that - she was still unwed at least.
Still, she heaved a weary sigh and held up a hand in an effort to placate the dizzy elf in front of her. "Merrill…you do realise that it's already nearly sixth bell? Shouldn't you be getting home, before it gets too cold out?" I really don't want to entertain you as well tonight, she added, mentally.
"By the Creators is that the time?" Merrill gasped, diving to grab her small bag of Maker knows what and hauling it over her head and shoulder. "I promised Varric I'd meet him in the Hanged Man at fifth! I'd better go. Thank you Orana!" And with that, she ran off in a rush, leaving an utterly perplexed Hawke in her wake, her mouth open in utter confusion.
Shaking herself out her befuddlement, she blinked at Orana before smiling. "I hope she hasn't been too much of a bother today, Orana. That girl is a mystery, even to me…"
"No Mistress, she has actually been rather helpful. She helped me make the stock for the stew tonight."
For all the years that Orana had worked in her household, Hawke still hadn't been able to get her to call her anything but 'Mistress' even though she was a fully paid servant and no longer a slave. I seem to collect them, apparently, she thought with wry amusement as she compared the two former slaves in her house and how polar opposite they were.
"From the silence, I'm guessing that she's gone?" The distaste for the Dalish elf that Fenris still had for her evident in his voice, Hawke merely flicked her eyes up at the ceiling before turning to see him standing at the threshold in his tunic and leggings. She couldn't help but let her eyes run down those bare arms of his appreciatively before she smiled and nodded.
"Mercifully, yes. Left in a hurry. Peace at last." She sighed drifting towards him and draping her arms around his shoulders playfully, barely noticing Orana slipping past on her way to the kitchens with her eyes averted. No, she though, I don't think you could get two more different people than Orana and Fenris.
"How do you stand to wear that thing, Hawke? I already feel itchy." His fingers pulled at the sleeve of the rough material of her official robe as it rubbed against his neck. It hung like a cloth sack on Hawke's lithe frame, hiding all her curves and it reminded Fenris of a mage's robe far too much.
"Ugh, tell me about it. I've half a mind to throw the blighted thing on the fire."
"I would much prefer seeing you in something more…flattering."
A single eyebrow raised as Hawke pulled away from Fenris and placed her hands on her hips, bunching up the robe and pulling it inwards to flatter the curve of her waist. "Well now, I think I can manage that." She said with a smirk, backing away from him before hitching the front of the robe up over her feet as she dashed up the stairs.
Fenris couldn't help but chuckle at her antics as he followed in Orana's tracks and made his way down the small flight of stairs to the kitchens where the elven girl was worrying over the large pot of game stew. After a quick glance around the almost impossibly clean kitchen, Fenris noticed Bodahn and Sandal busying themselves with some form of apple dessert but not one bottle of wine in the kitchen. Frowning, he took two steps towards the slip of an elf before she noticed him and shrank backwards away from where she was fussing. Hawke had once told Fenris that Orana feared him still from their first meeting in the slaver holding pens where they confronted Hadriana; even though Fenris himself had done nothing to harm her in any way, the sight of a formidable, angry elf, covered in blood and wielding a ridiculously large sword that cut his way through slavers like a knife through butter was enough to make the meek and timid girl shy away in fear. Remembering this, Fenris halted his advance and put his hands up in submission, not wanting to disrupt the preparation of the meal.
"Has any wine been brought up for dinner?" He asked as gently as he could, though he thoroughly wanted to chastise the girl for acting as if he was some monster. He didn't want to think that he might have been the same way once.
"No, Master Fenris." Her voice was weak, her gaze directed at a fixed point on the floor just in front of her feet. It was obvious that the slave mentality would never leave her, but Fenris found some comfort in the fact that Hawke was no Hadriana and the girl got paid a good wage.
But he had to stop himself from snarling as she called him 'Master' and he felt himself tense. It was bad enough that she still called Hawke 'Mistress' despite her best efforts to break of the habit, but calling him - an ex-slave himself - that was anathema to him. But he merely frowned at the top of her head, took in a deep breath through his nose to calm himself and said "thank you Orana," in a way that came out far more rough than he had intended. It seemed to placate her, however, and she shuffled back to where she was tinkering with spices and dried herbs for the stew.
Without a second glance, Fenris turned and headed past the dwarves and down into the wine cellar, pausing on the bottom step to let his eyes adjust to the dim light given off by the small sconces on the supporting pillars. The drop in temperature from the upper house to the cold cellar sent a shiver all the way up from his feet and he didn't hang about in choosing a few bottles of a fine blended red to go with the dark meat that would be served that night. With a bottle under each arm and one in each hand, he made his way back up the stairs to see Hawke waiting for him in the kitchen.
She looked far more comfortable in her usual home attire, the smell of clean fabric and her soap drifted to him as she smiled and took the bottles from under his arms wordlessly. He followed her towards the dining room, mesmerized by the curve of her waist and the sway of her hips as she silently sauntered ahead of him. She knew he was watching, and she still couldn't help but let a self-confident smile play on her lips.
The heavy thud of bottles being placed on the expensive table snapped him out of his reverie and he placed his own down beside the ones Hawke had carried. The fireplace in the dining room was already burning nicely and the chill was steadily being driven back like it had been in the main hall, master bedroom and drawing room - the kitchen was always warm thanks to the constantly lit coal stove that Bodahn had rigged to heat a small copper tank of water that held enough water for almost two baths. Hawke had blessed him for his thoughtfulness the day he installed it. Someone still had to carry it to the tub but it was less of a chore when you didn't have to wait for the water to boil.
Hawke hummed to herself as she wandered over to the tall cupboard that contained what she dubbed the 'useful' dining service. It was made of pewter, rather than the fine, thin clay that made up what Hawke called the 'pretty but useless' service which was packed away in a box in the kitchen. She still didn't understand why her mother felt the need to buy it, perhaps she thought she'd be entertaining the Empress of Orlais at some point in the future. The thought brought a smile to her lips but she kept on humming as she pulled out four pewter plates and wove her fingers around the stems of four ornate pewter goblets before turning and closing the door to the cupboard with her heel.
In the mean time, Fenris had forced himself to concentrate on something other than Hawke's humming and somewhat captivating backside; he had decided to open one of the bottles of wine. Thankfully, the corkscrew from the last dinner Hawke had held (a boisterous affair which ended in Isabela dancing on the table and Bodahn swearing for days as he tried to get the marks out the polished wooden surface) was still laying on a shelf next to a copy of 'Hard in Hightown' that Varric had given her. He had given Fenris a copy too and he earnestly tried to read it, but even Hawke had given it up as a lost cause so Fenris stood no chance. Neither would tell the dwarf however, they had mutually agreed on that.
At the sound of the soft 'pop' of a cork being removed, Hawke wandered over and plunked two of the four goblets on the table near where Fenris was stood before wandering off to lay the table. She had decided that Fenris and Donnic would sit one side, while herself and Aveline would sit the other, opposite their respective partners. She also told herself that this wasn't simply because she enjoyed watching Fenris eat and she most definitely didn't want to play with his feet under the table - that was childish. It was also exactly the reason why she was laying the places out as she was. She also made sure he noticed where she was placing their guests goblets, wordlessly informing him of the seating arrangement for the evening.
Fenris noticed this, of course, and mentally noted to sit directly opposite Hawke that evening as he poured out two generous measures of wine into the pair of goblets on the table. He slid one over to Hawke as she approached and she took it, holding it up to her face before shoving her nose and inhaling the smell of the red wine loudly. This gave exactly the reaction she wanted as Fenris laughed and set down the bottle. Then she took a loud slurp and sloshed it around her mouth before swallowing and staring critically into her goblet with a thoughtful pout.
"Everything to your liking, Lady Viscount?" Fenris teased, his voice laced with sarcasm as he leaned toward her slightly and placed the bottle between them on the table before grabbing his own goblet. He watched her over the rim as she considered this, her eyes flicking from him to the cup, and then at the curtains and then back at the cup.
She hummed to herself thoughtfully before wrinkling her nose and holding the stem of the goblet between her fingers as she gestured it vaguely towards the heavy red velvet curtains that were drawn closed around the windows. "I don't think the colour matches my drapes," she complained, putting on her highest class voice that sounded awfully ridiculous (but dreadfully accurate as to how some of the nobility spoke) and looking down her nose at the wine.
"Well, we could always throw it against the wall so that it matches something." Hawke's feigned air of superiority nearly cracked at Fenris's dry tone and serious demeanour, but she was damned if she was going to be the one that broke first. Instead, she gasped and placed her free hand to her chest in shock, her expression one of utter horror - expect, of course, for the amusement dancing in her eyes.
"Are you suggesting that we waste a perfectly good bottle of wine on my finely painted walls, serah?" She tried, oh she tried, to keep the laughter out of her tone, but she found it increasingly difficult under the heavy gaze of the elf, who was now also beginning to crack. "Unlike your mansion, serah, I don't think there is anything to improve upon."
"I can think of a few things." His response came out a little more growling and serious than he had intended but if Hawke had noticed she didn't show it. If anything, she let an eyebrow creep upwards as she leaned in closer with a small chuckle from low in her throat. At such a sensual sound, Fenris found himself closing the gap between them by placing his hand upon her waist, his fingers interlacing with the soft fabric of her belt while Hawke's own fingers traced their way up the winding pathways of lyrium that wound up his arm.
"And what would those be, I wonder?" Her voiced was hushed and low, a faintly devious smile quirking one side of her lips upwards before she let her eyes drop from Fenris's eyes to trace down the distinctly elven angles of his face. Her gaze rested on his lips for a moment, biting her lower lip at the sudden feeling of heat that wasn't coming from the fire place and faintly amazed that the conversation had turned rather (pleasantly) serious so quickly.
"Well, we could start by -" He was cut off suddenly by the sound of the gong in the foyer being sounded, muffled slightly by the sound of the closed inner door and half-closed dining room door. He blinked slightly before realisation dawned on him and he cleared his thought, pulling away from Hawke but still keeping his hand on her waist. "Ah. Your guests have arrived."
Suddenly very annoyed that Aveline and Donnic were always on time and that the heated tension had fled the room at the sound of the gong, Hawke heaved a heavy sigh and put down her wine goblet at the same time Fenris did. With one hand still resting lightly on his forearm, she rubbed between her eyes with her now free hand and worried the crease that seemed to be getting deeper every day.
"It seems they have," she conceded with another sigh before offering a weak smile to Fenris. "Shall we go and play the gracious hosts? It seems a bit mean to leave them standing out there, and we can hardly expect Bodahn or Orana to greet them while they're busy in the kitchen." Fenris said nothing, merely giving a single nod and letting her go so she could slip past.
He followed closely, smiling faintly to himself as he watched her brush herself down, readjust her tunic and belt before straightening, putting on a welcoming smile before opening the door. Gracious host indeed.