Fenris heard the hinges to his door screaming back at him for the unnecessary abuse. The eerie portraits on the walls lay shattered on the carpet floors of his home, and the pink vase on the messy table toppled over, spilling out the withered flowers that had been there for ages. Dust and cobwebs flew in the air for a few seconds before settling down again. The house creaked at the behest of its new owner, as well as the angry woman who had slammed the door to his mansion so hard the building seemed to almost collapse.
Spiders crawled everywhere but his mansion always looked ransacked anyway. He didn't care. It didn't matter; it wasn't even his mansion anyway.
And it wasn't even the mansion he wanted to tear apart piece by piece.
What did you do? He yelled at himself. Were you trying to help her or hurt her? Why couldn't you just fucking control yourself?
He had fucked up and made her even angrier. And now she was probably going to go see her friends to make herself feel better.
Probably Anders.
Anders, who clearly said many times he was attracted to her.
And I drove her to him. Me.
It's probably for the better anyway. S he's better off with him. You can't give her anything. You can barely even provide for yourself, much less someone else. Besides, h e's not... a bad man.
But the thought made his stomach churn and boil.
Are you fucking kidding me? Even after all this time, you still can't trust us?" "It's not you I don't trust." He shook his head.
It's me. I don't trust myself. He grimaced.
Fenris knew the moment Hawke dragged him inside for a private chat that she sought answers.
And what did he give her instead? One quick shag and a broken heart, again.
You're an asshole. Congratulations. He told himself, staring at this own despicable face in the cracked mirror.
You deserve this. This regret. This sorrow. This agony. You deserve all of this.
You were terrible to her; did you expect her to wait around for you forever until Danarius breathes his last? A woman like Hawke has suitors lining out the door. How could you even compare? Abandon these stupid, naive ideas now; it'll only end in heartbreak. Better end it now than later.
Hawke looked confused, angry, and utterly devastated.
She deserved answers. He was going to answer them - some of them at least.
But he also didn't want her thinking they were going to resume being intimate partners.
Well, so much for that, the annoying voice in his head goaded.
Hawke would have to understand that he wasn't ready for that commitment. Not with everything else looming in the back of his mind. He simply couldn't afford to allow the possibility.
Fenris had been pensive today. As they trekked through the sandy dunes along the coast listening to the whispering waves of the sea, he thought of ways to express his regret to her. He didn't know how to read or write, but he certainly had drafted a speech in mind.
He thought to answer her questions - to tell her exactly what kind of 'connection' he had with his former master. The night he tried to explain it, the words came out in the form of a jumbled mess and he ended up walking out of her bedroom without a single word, overwhelmed by the realness of it all. Their first coupling had been a spur of the moment event - he hadn't been in control of himself - he had let go of his self-restraint.
This time, he had recited the words in his head, prepared to pull Hawke aside at some point today to tell her everything she wanted to know. He knew there was no way he would miraculously cure all the hurt that he had inflicted on her, but he hoped that his words could give her a little closure at least.
But instead you decided fuck her and answer none of her questions.
Hawke probably thought he was a coward. She probably thought he was a huge jackass who shagged her senseless like a common whore from the Blooming Rose. That's why she blushed so furiously every time he glanced at her. She was probably too ashamed to look at him. He knew he had humiliated her by sleeping and then leaving her in a single night.
That's why she tried to distance herself from him. She probably assumed he intended for her to be a quick lay.
He had to tell her nothing could possibly be any further from the truth. He had to tell her he did care for her a great deal. So great were his feelings for her that it made leaving her that night so much more painful to endure.
But...
As long as Danarius breathed, Fenris - and his friends - were not safe. This was especially the case for Hawke.
What if Danarius could delve far enough into his thoughts to find out how much she meant to him? There was no telling what could happen. For starters, the slavers would not only be on the lookout for Fenris. They attempt to use Hawke as bait, knowing Fenris would follow after her.
Just the idea of Hawke being dragged in chains before Danarius was enough to make him want to vomit.
Killing Danarius seemed simple enough - but what of Fenris' sister, Varania? If Hadriana spoke the truth, then he had to find her.
I must know. Fenris told himself. I need to know where she is and find a way to save her from the Imperium. She is the last remaining relative I have. She may have answers I need. She may know about that... that woman in my dreams. If I find Varania, I may not even need to hold off keeping Danarius alive. Then that would make things easier. But...
Even if all that was resolved - even if he found his answers from Danarius and Varania - Could he really aspire to spend the rest of his life with Hawke, a human noble?
Fenris sunk deep into the soft, dusty couch sitting in the large library of his dilapidated mansion. Tiny dust sprites shot into the air as he fell, defeated.
He had concocted a dream that was too good to be true. He had lied to himself.
Hawke deserves more than I could give. She deserves so much more.
What did have to offer her? He, who was a runaway slave. He, who had nothing to his name.
He, who didn't even know his own name.
He was a former slave; he was a elf. There was no way gossip wouldn't spread. She was a celebrity in Kirkwall; she had suitors lining out at her front doorstep. The very basis of their relationship would be scorned upon, and it would only serve to hurt her reputation. Leandra Hawke was keen on seeing her daughter married to a well-off man, and Fenris was anything but.
What could he offer her but his burdens? He asked too much of her, and he knew she would be more than willing to oblige. That was one of the reasons he had to leave.
I should've never...
Yet again, he indulged himself like some sort of feral, uncontrollable beast. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he control his primal instincts when it came to her? What was it about her that made him act like that? Did she have some sort of spell over him? Was he attracted to her because of her willingness to help him, no matter what the circumstances?
Probably.
When she glanced at him at the market, he had been staring at her the entire time – those swaying hips, long locks of hair, and those voluptuous curves. How could he not stare? He felt angry at himself for acting so foolish and callow. He told himself numerous times what he was experiencing was a momentary lapse in judgment - a lust that could be easily remedied. But in actuality, it was harder to push down the feelings he harbored, and he could not stop himself from being drawn to her like a bee to nectar.
But then there was Anders.
Anders, who Fenris considered - against all odds - his friend.
Well, maybe not friend. More like an ally, really.
Although, 'rival' also seemed to be a suitable term these days for Anders. Fenris certainly didn't enjoy watching all the shameless flirting. It was bad enough that Hawke often indulged everyone with her flirtatious nature. Fenris didn't need Anders getting funny ideas.
Perhaps he had been too harsh with his words that evening. He hadn't intended on making Hawke seem like a prize to be won; it certainly wasn't his intention to speak of her like she was a slab of meat.
"That's enough!" Hawke spoke up, trying to gain control of her party. "Fenris, we need to talk -" "He's not a child, Hawke." Anders frowned. "He can go home on his own." Hawke shook her head firmly and angrily grabbed Fenris by the arm. "No, I need to talk to him now. Alone." She told Anders, more aggressively than she intended. "I'll meet you at the clinic within the hour, Anders."
Of course she had gone to visit Anders. Because apparently, the healer needed help with... something.
If he were just asking her for help, Fenris would've gladly felt no hostility to Anders, even though he was a mage. But the frustration of knowing she was spending the evening with Anders, who harbored a obvious attraction to her, fueled Fenris' jealousy and rage.
Fenris frowned, his thumb glossing over the hilt of his sword.
What was it about the apostate that made everyone so enamored with him anyway? What about him was so attractive?
He was a apostate mage. An apostate. Hawke did know that they were illegal, didn't she?
They argued about it numerous times: the age-long issue of mages. Hawke knew where Fenris stood on the subject and refused to take sides, especially when he and Anders were at each others' throats. She made it clear that she did not like endorsing their cantankerous disputes, yet whenever it came up as a topic of discussion Fenris found that Hawke more often than not sided with Anders. His one consolation rested in knowing Hawke harbored deeper feelings for him over Anders.
Fenris paced around anxiously.
He could've gone to the Hanged Man to have a drink with Isabela or play a round of cards with Varric – but he knew he had a habit of talking too much when he got drunk, and since he did not feel like sharing his personal drama with the rest of the crew, he decided against it.
Hawke never mentioned their night together to anyone, so he assumed it was a given agreement that they would keep their night a secret.
A dirty, ugly little secret.
Finally, he let out a sigh and let himself fall onto the bed. He had plenty to worry about, such as Danarius and finding his sister.
Maker damn him, why couldn't he get himself to focus?
His mind wandered to thoughts of his budding relationship with her:
That night he had talked to Hawke about his long-forgotten past was when he first saw her as more than a friend.
Hawke, the beautiful, loving person she was who only wanted to help those in need ...
"It's barely noon, Fenris. Are you drunk?" Hawke laughed, taking a seat in his home.
"The last bottle of Agreggio. I've been saving it for a special occasion." Fenris announced triumphantly as he saw Hawke come through the doorway. He was in a good mood that evening, and wanted to share all of it with someone, though he found himself tremendously overjoyed that it had been her who came.
"And what occasion would that be?"
"The anniversary of my escape!" He told her.
"Your escape?" She took the bottle from him and took a swig before giving it back.
"Astia valla femundis!" He leaned forward, smiling like a fool. But he didn't care. He was in a great mood. "Care to hear the story?"
She giggled at his enthusiasm, which he gathered was a refreshing sight as he was usually being his brooding, pessimist self.
"I enjoy listening to you talk." She winked.
Ah, the flirting again. If he was sober, he would've been embarrassed. But alas, the alcohol had boosted his confidence so instead he returned her flattery:
He saw her cheeks flush pink at his words.
Interesting...
"Let's see…" He looked contemplative for a second. "You've heard of Seheron? The Imperium and the Qunari have fought over the island for centuries now."
She nodded.
"I was there a few times with Danarius. During one occasion though, there was a Qunari attack. I managed to get him safely on a ship, but there was no room for a slave. So I was left behind, and barely got out of the city alive."
"Wait-he left you there?" She looked surprised, blinking. "I thought Danarius considered you valuable?"
"He did." He chuckled. "It wasn't intentional, I assure you. Danarius didn't even know it happened they were halfway across the sea. Oh, to see the look on his face…" He laughed again. "It would've been priceless!"
"So that was when you made your escape?"
Fenris shook his head. "No, back then I had no intention of escaping." He paused for a second. "There were these rebels in the jungles called Fog Warriors. Some found me and took me in - nursed me back to health. I stayed with them until Danarius came for me."
"I take it he was thrilled to see you survived."
"Or that his investment didn't end up in Qunari hands." He took another swig straight from the bottle. "I had grown fond of the rebels by then. They bowed to no master and fought for their freedom. It was… beyond my experience."
"What do you mean?"
"Slaves… they don't think. They just focus on the next day, what best to do to serve. They're happy that way. When Danarius came for me, I thought the dream was over. Back to work. The Fog Warriors, though… they refused to let him just take me. They fought him. While I was just trying to return to my master. Danarius caught sight of me and ordered me to kill them. So I did. I killed them all."
There was no hiding the fear in her eyes as she heard this.
Fenris' heart sunk, thinking that she now saw him as a monster.
You're drunk. Again. This was a bad idea... Why did you go an tell her that story?
Then he felt her hand on his knee. He flinched at her touch. Their eyes met and he realized that the look of fear in her eyes had dissipated and was now replaced with a gaze of understanding... and condolences.
It was... consoling. And he felt like perhaps he could... perhaps he could be honest and real - and have a real conversation with her.
"You thought the dream was over?"
"Yes. It felt inevitable. My master had returned and this… this fantasy life was over." He gazed at his hand entwined with hers blankly. "Once it was done ... once I saw the bodies on the ground, I felt… I couldn't…" He stared at her, a sadness pooling in his eyes. "I ran. I ran as fast as I could, and didn't look back."
"This can't be easy to talk about." Hawke whispered.
"No, it's not." He took another swig. "I've never spoken to anyone about it though. I never wanted to." Then he smiled, feeling a heavy weight suddenly lifted from his chest.
You are not alone anymore.
"But with you, it's different. Perhaps that's what it means to have a friend. I've never allowed anyone close. Never wanted anyone. But you… you're different."
"And now that's the drink talking," She laughed, cheeks pink and rosy again.
He laughed sheepishly in agreement but continued to drink anyway.
She leaned over to take a swig too. And soon, they were both happily drunk together.
That night, they fell asleep next to each other on the carpet in front of the fire in his living room. Her head rested against his shoulder and his chin nestled into her hair.
Months passed by, and one day he found himself sitting in the lobby of the Hawke Estate.
Hours ticked by. Not much had transpired since, save for Bodahn giving him a strange look every now and then. He nevertheless asked patiently to be allowed to wait for their master to return, and nervously sat down in the foyer bench.
He had no idea what to say. He was acting on impulse. But the desires had only grew stronger. He tried to suppress the urges, but it felt as though there was a desire demon nipping at his toes constantly. He was about to explode.
How many times had he thought of this? Was it really going to happen? What would she think?
His elven ears quickly caught her nearing footsteps. They were light and delicate, but he was used to them by now. His heart fluttered about, his body grew hot, and he knew this was the moment.
"Fenris?" Her voice indicated that she was feeling normal, not cautious, not annoyed, not tired – just a concerned friend.
A friend.
But he did not want that. He wanted more.
He looked her straight in the eyes. Those olive eyes stared back, and he was so close to sweeping her off her feet and carrying her into the bedroom, ready to ravish her – but he contained it. Barely.
He couldn't talk. He couldn't put thoughts into words. He wanted to explain, to give her a long explanation and tell her she should indulge in this fantasy of his - but all of a sudden his brain couldn't work and all that came out was:
"I've been thinking about you. In fact, I've been able to think about little else."
He gazed into her eyes, torn between which to hope for: her acceptance, or her rejection.
"Command me to go, and I shall." He swallowed.
This was out of control. You're out of control. Rein it in. Suppress it. Now is not the time, damn it!
No. Damn the consequences.
He had already gone past the point of no return. At least if she rejected him he could sleep well knowing that he tried, and that everything was done and over with. At least then he'd know his affections were one-sided. Maybe then he would stop feeling so utterly helpless and downright stupid.
"No need." She said gently, her eyes looking like soft, misty pearls.
That moment she kissed him could not be captured by words:
There was singing in the back of his head. Glorious lights. Fireworks. The whole ordeal. Varric could write a book.
The growing desire between them erupted. Fenris did exactly what he had been desiring for weeks:
He grabbed her by the waist, pulled her close, and kissed her hungrily. He ran his hand through her hair, suddenly wishing that he was not wearing his gauntlets just so he could feel her flesh against his skin.
He knew what he wanted to do. He didn't care about the tiny voice warning him in the back of his head.
The moment they pulled away from each other, he could tell she wanted more. But everything happened so fast he had little time to prepare or fully comprehend what even happened. One moment he was kissing her passionately, and the next moment she had pushed him up against the wall, and kissed him back in a savagely manner that surprised him beyond belief. He never imagined Hawke to be so... straight-forward.
"Come with me." She whispered silently into his sensitive ears and clasped his hand.
They walked into the lobby, Bodahn nodding towards Fenris in acknowledgement.
But all Fenris wanted to pay attention to was Hawke. He followed her up the stairs, his eyes never leaving her, to her bedroom – where she shut the door and proceeded to shower his neck with kisses again. His hands brushed against the skin under her blouse and he groaned at the softness.
"Hawke..." He whispered into her neck as he felt her tug at the belt of his armor. Her eagerness for him made him feel incredibly good, a proud lion roaring in his chest.
As she undid his belt, he grabbed her thighs and hoisted her up, closer to him. He wanted to feel the softness of her skin against him.
He stepped backwards, being as careful as he could with what little balance he had. Slowly, they made it onto her bed, where she saddled on top of him, planting kisses down his neck and undressing him hastily as he did her. Their skin hot with frenzied desire, and their breath heavy with need.
She was beautiful even with the scars. All of the fantasies he had would be nothing compared to this. He desired to explore her body, and make her his. It was a desire that burned with a passion he could not place into words.
He watched her pull her blouse above her head, undressing before him. He took one moment to gaze at her naked body before he sat up, startling her. He caught her from falling off the bed her by the small of her back, and turned her over to straddle her.
Her eyes lit up in excitement the moment he wrestled her in the bed, pinning her wrists down and staring down at her, searching for her reaction to his dominance. There was a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, and he knew she was enjoying this. Good, because he was unsure if she preferred it the other way around.
She grinned. "This was more than I was hoping for..."
His heart was beating fast. But then - there was a voice of alarm going off in his head. He shouldn't. He couldn't. Was this really such a good idea?
We shouldn't...
He murmured to himself, but it didn't sound convincing enough at all.
"What?" Hawke asked between kisses on his neck.
"I ... I can't ...I mean - Only my - only in my wildest dreams has this..." His mouth was dry.
Damn, he sounded like an idiot.
She giggled and leaned in close to whisper into his ear:
"In my dreams, I have done so much more."
His ears twitched, as did a certain part of his lower body.
"Oh?" He pulled away, shooting her a devious smirk.
His hands that pinned her down to the bed slid up to her hands, where their fingers laced together like a ribbon on top of a well-wrapped gift.
"Now that you mention them, I'm curious: Tell me of these fantasies, Fenris." She spoke quietly. "I want to know. In detail."
Her legs rose to grind against him, but he stopped her, hesitant.
"Don't," his voice strained. "I'm not at liberty divulge that information. It is... not appropriate."
She laughed. "You have me pinned to my bed, we're both pretty much naked, and you worry about sounding 'appropriate'?"
He chuckled. "You... have a fair point."
"So?" She rose a brow. "Tell me. I want to know."
"You shouldn't." He warned, leaning down so that their noses touched. "Not unless you want to find out just what sort of thing a man desires."
She paused, her expression unreadable in the dim light.
"Intriguing," she whispered, eyes twinkling. "I still want to know. I want to know what this man in particular desires."
A part of Fenris knew he shouldn't have come to her. A part of him knew he was putting her closer to danger than he preferred. Still, he had been compelled to go to her. To see her. To take a chance. Hoping his self-control would fail him.
It was.
"I think it obvious," he told her. "I desire you. I've desired you for a long time."
"Well, the feeling is obviously mutual." She smiled. "But I like hearing you talk. So tell me, what desires would you have of me, oh ser warrior?"
He twitched again at her utterance of the word 'ser'. A image of Hawke on her hands and knees servicing him was enough to make him want to bury himself deep inside her again and again until she called out his name as though it were the Chant of Light.
"What would you want to know? How much I have thought of you?" he said, speaking what he knew he should not. In the hopes of seeing desire in her eyes. In the hopes of turning her on as much as she did him. "You want to know how much I have thought of touching you? Of tasting you? Would you like every intimate detail?"
"Yes," She replied breathlessly, slowly grinding into him. "Please, Fenris... tell me."
Never in a million years would he have pinned Hawke for having a voice fetish. But at least now he knew. He intended to make good use of it.
"I have thought of you in ways I have thought of no one else. I've thought of how you would taste on my lips." He brushed his lips against her ear.
He released one of her wrists to slowly trail a hand down her stomach.
"I want feel your desire coating my fingers. Do you know how much I want that?"
The words came from deep in him, from a place he had denied for so long. Hawke looked at him eagerly - hungrily.
"I would take you," he continued. "I would make you mine."
Her breasts rose and fell on a sharp breath. "Take me, then."
Her words stabbed him, a pang of lust assaulting him, breaking at the bonds of his control, stretching them to their limit.
"I will make you mine." He whispered in her ear, his voice dripping with conviction. He grabbed her supple breast, grinding against her as she let out a soft moan. He wanted to hear more of it. He wanted to hear her scream. He slowly started grinding rhythmically into her as he spoke: "Mine. Again and again. Until I had you begging for mercy."
He had lost control of himself. And he was enjoying every second of it.
It was too late to go back anyway.
"Fenris..." She stammered, out of breath from his kisses. "Maker, this. This is ... This all sounds very enticing."
He chuckled. "Hawke - slayer of axe-welding bandits and giant behemoths - enjoys being tossed around in bed and dirty talk?"
"Only when it comes to your voice."
"Flattery will only get you so far, minx." He grinned, leaning over to kiss her on the forhead. "I intend to take full advantage of this new discovery, I assure you."
"Don't be so confident." She smirked. "Don't pretend you wouldn't enjoy me whispering a dirty thing to you here and there..."
She tried to wrap her hands around his neck, but he caught her wrists and forcefully pinned her down while he sucked softly at her neck. She groaned and raised her legs up instead to wrap around his waist, drawing him closer to her so that his aroused member ground right against her wetness.
She wanted him. But he was not about to give her the satisfaction. At least, not yet.
She was powerless against him on the bed, and he knew it. Smirking, Fenris dove in to plant his own marks on her neck, her collarbone, all the way down to her chest. By the time he made it to her perky nipples, she was madly shifting around beneath him, rubbing herself against his hard length.
Too bad he was holding her down. As long as he remained on top, he was going to make her work for it. He had waited too long for this to stop now.
He carefully started licking her pink nipples, making her shudder ever so slightly. He teased her for a long time that way, and started sucking on them until her breaths fastened, her chest heaved uncontrollably, and her wrists struggled to get out of his grasp.
"Please..." She said, out of breath. "Fenris, please... let me..."
"Let you?" He asked, eyebrows raised. "Let you what? Say it."
Her face flushed pink, and she turned away, shy and afraid to speak her mind.
"OW!"
He bit her nipple, and he was sure that startled exclamation what partly due to the excitement and partly to the pain.
"Fenris...", she groaned, pleading.
He had no intentions of letting her have her way. He wickedly smiled, watching her squirm and get frustrated, feeling how wet she got as he pressed against her more. She was enjoying this as much as he was, it seemed.
He looked up at her from teasing her nipples and smirked once more. "Tell me what you want. Use your words."
"I... I can't!"
She gritted her teeth, frustrated even further. She was not raised to say such crude things to others, so being forced to was both exciting and embarrassing for her. Nevertheless, he was surprised to find that she actually liked this style of bedroom play. It sure gave him an erection fast.
"I want you to..." She started, but was unable to finish her sentence.
"Yes?"
"I want you inside me," She pleaded, her face red in embarrassment. "Please, Fenris. I want you to make me yours."
He paused for a second, as if he had to contemplate the idea, but eventually let her wrists go and allowed her the freedom to touch him. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him close, kissing him fiercely until he swore she had drawn blood from his lips. Meanwhile, her other hand traced his chest, down to his abdomen. He felt the hairs on his skin rise in anticipation.
Slowly, she lowered herself slightly, her hands still tracing over his body until they found his erect, hard cock. She held it with a firmness that made him close his eyes to try to gather himself once more. As she gently licked his ears and breathed, letting out soft moans that only he could hear, he suddenly felt weak to his knees, knowing he would be unable to take her teasing much longer.
Still, there was something about making her say such dirty sentences that made everything so much more enjoyable to him. He wanted her to plead to him, and to scream for him to pleasure her. It was only the past few days while he had fantasized about her nonstop that he realized what a sadist he had become for her. He enjoyed keeping her sexually frustrated and teasing her - it made his reward sweeter. But he was not sure how much more he could take of her stroking his member in her hands.
"Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it." He ordered, stopping her hands once more.
He bent over to squeeze her ample breasts, pulling at them. He pinched the hard nipples until they got harder; the twisting and pulling made his desires grow even stronger. Her moans got louder, and he moved against her until his cock was right at the opening of her cunt. He moved himself for a little while, torturing and teasing her as he saw fit. She squirmed uncomfortably, and longingly. He then moved his hand down, towards her visibly swollen clit. He had hungered to touch her body, to taste her, and do all of the things he had fantasized about. This was his chance.
"Oh, Fenris!" she cried out, desperately. "No, don't-"
His two fingers found touched her narrow entrance gently, while his thumb fondled her clit.
"Maker!"
He penetrated her easily, seeing how wet she already was. Her scent pervaded the air as he fucked her with his fingers.
"I want you," she replied breathlessly, rubbing her against his fingers harder. It was hot and wet – more than ready for him. She started to pound against his fingers, but he did not want her having all the fun. Not yet, at least.
He pulled his fingers out of her, revealing the sticky juices that followed. She blushed as she watched him lick his fingers, tasting her sweet honey. He then lowered himself to her again, but made no advances to penetrate her still. He was so close to burying himself inside her inviting sweet spot.
He proceeded to grind up against her in return, grabbing his own member to nudge it against her clitoris. The smell of their arousal pervaded the room, and only fed his desire for her more.
"You already have me. I'm right in front of you. Perhaps you should be more specific, Hawke." He ordered as he listened to her breaths fasten again, her chest heaving, and her face longing for his touch.
"Please," she swallowed. "Please, Fenris, I want your cock inside me. Please give it to me."
Those words were just too much for him to take. At that moment, he plunged himself inside her in a split second. She gasped as he penetrated her, letting out a small scream. Her hands grabbed at the sheets on the bed erratically.
Maker, this felt so right.
He wondered for a second whether she was in pain or not. Though this wasn't her first time, he didn't want her to hurt. He wanted her to enjoy this as much as he did. He glanced her aroused face, searching for answers, but she spoke first.
"Don't hesitate," She whispered, as if she knew what he was thinking. "I'm enjoying it. Please, do what you wish, Fenris."
"Are you sure you want to tempt me with that offer?" He asked as he shifted inside of her little cunt slowly, in and out. This was too good to be true. He felt overjoyed, and it was driving him crazy.
She nodded.
He pulled her up by the arms and had her sit in his lap, gazing into her eyes as he grabbed her ass, letting her ride him to her heart's content. He clenched his teeth, loving the noises she made as she rode him.
"Oh, Maker... Hawke." He groaned for the first time in pure ecstasy. She felt so good.
She grabbed his hands, twirling their fingers together as she rocked up and down steadily.
But he knew what was to come. He felt her start to twitch, and knew that she was nearing her climax. And he couldn't let that happen yet.
Suddenly, he slapped her gently on the ass, and flipped her over so that she was on all fours for him, showing him that voluptuous hind that he so often gazed at when they traveled.
"Fenris?" She whined. She had been so close to climax.
"I can't let you have all the fun by yourself, now can I?" He answered, grabbing her by the waist and plunging himself so deep inside her that she had to gasp for air.
He wanted her to need him, to long for him, to plead to him, and love him. He plunged deepr and deeper insider her, in and out, in and out. Each time, her moans got louder. She even set her head down into the pillows to stifle her moans, which made his view even more pleasant as he stared at her helplessness: grabbing at the pillows while he rammed into her from behind, the voluptuous curves of her backside jiggling every time.
"Oh Maker," he whispered as he near his own climax. "Come for me, Hawke."
She had been ready for these words for a while now. She had fantasized him uttering those words to her in that deep, refined accent she found so appealing. This did it for her. She came down on him so frantically, chanting his name like it was the only thing she knew. It only took a split second afterward for him to fill her delicate body with his seed.
But in that moment, something happened:
Hawke disappeared from his visions, and his burning sensation was no longer of a pleasant kind.
Images of a strangely familiar past came rushing towards him:
A woman with blonde hair, a man with black hair. Elvish people, who lived in some sort of community – he couldn't tell where it was. All he knew what that his insides burned and his head was on fire.
"Where are you, little Fenris?"
Danarius!
A pair of familiar gray eyes was staring back at him. His face was right there - eyes wide - peering, eager, overjoyed, evil.
Fenris swore he could feel Danarius' breath on his face - that familiar aroma of burning incense filling his senses.
Fenris panicked, turning left and right to try finding Hawke. His friends. Anyone.
Was this a nightmare? Am I dreaming? Is this real? Was any of it real?
"I see you."
Fenris let out a barely audible gasp. Danarius gazed at him with a evil loathing. A sick desire, fueled with sadistic passion and pain, his eyes piercing deep into Fenris' soul. Looking for him. Absolutely livid. Absolutely horrific.
The images quickly faded, and so did the pain.
When he came back to his sense, he realized that he had been standing in front of Hawke still. But she was panting and did not notice his suddenly departure from reality.
What was that?
He decided not to think about it for the moment.
He waited for her insides to stop twitching before he pulled out of her. But even after he was finished, he couldn't resist gazing at the scene of her laying in bed, ass raised, his seed trickling down her thighs.
She took several deep breaths before she calmed down, and as did he. His heart was racing, his head pounding, and he felt so worn out. When they gained their strength, the two put their undergarments back on.
Fenris walked over to his love, and planted a kiss on her sweet lips before sitting down in bed with her, the both of them naked and still hot from their activities. She rolled over in the bed, made a soft moan of satisfaction and relaxation, and laid herself right beside him in bed.
"Damn, that felt so good." She confessed. "Way better than I imagined..."
He would've snidely asked exactly how often she imagined them going at it, but there were suddenly other things on his mind.
They fell asleep after that, but Fenris could not stop thinking about the visions he had experienced. They were painful, both physically and mentally.
He had been SO CLOSE. So close to finding out about his past. A part of him wanted to know desperately what he was like before he became Danarius pet. But the other part of him was afraid to find out...
He looked over at Hawke, who laid on his shoulder, sleeping.
I can't do this.
Fuck Fenris.
Hawke was beyond livid.
She was currently power-walking her way through dimly-lit Darktown, seething at the teeth.
The moment she walked through Anders' clinic, the smell of herbs, wound salves, bandages, and sickness replaced the putridness of the Darktown alleyways. His helpers only amounted to a few, and none of them as skilled as he. He made some coin off his charitable work, though not nearly enough to get by on meals. Clearly glory and money were not contributing incentives for Anders' profession as a healer. Most of his clients were too poor to afford a legitimate healer, or were also apostates themselves.
"Hawke! You're here!"
Being here calmed her nerves.
It reminded her why she enjoyed helping people. It reminded her how good it felt to make something of her life - to help those in need - not for fame or fortune, not for glory or greed - but for herself.
There was a silver crest at Anders' desk with a griffon engraving in the center. It looked well-polished and looked like some sort of belt buckle. It seemed too flashy for Anders' taste but he seemed to like it enough to keep in on the small shelf above his desk.
"Here. Take a seat over there. I'm going to try finishing this up soon. Want to lend a hand?"
Hawke wondered if Anders missed being a Warden, traveling with the Hero of Ferelden – Queen of Ferelden - whatever she was called nowadays. But he probably didn't, seeing how he ran from them. She was surprised that he hadn't been chased down. Then again, with the Blight over Grey Wardens were hardly in demand.
There were fewer patients tonight than normal, but Anders had gone straight to work anyway.
Hawke took to the chair next to his operating table, helping him when she could by tossing him supplies as he dressed his patients' wounds. She washed the water basins clean several times and reapplied bandages on those who needed it. She helped Anders brew more healing salves and elfroot potions by the batch until the late hours of the night.
"Thanks for all the help, Hawke."
"Not a problem." She grinned, all rage slowly dissipating.
The work helped her take her mind off more bothersome issues swirling in her mind.
That's me. I'm a helper. She rolled her eyes. Too bad I couldn't fucking help myself to Fenris.
By the time they were done burning the midnight oil, she was tired and sleepy but nonetheless happy to be of help to Anders. He led her to the empty cot near his desk. Papers scattered around the sheets in a disorganized fashion and it smelled like berries and spindleweed powder. Hawke laid down on the pillows, finding comfort in her momentary rest.
"Stay here. I have to talk to you about something. I'll be right back." He said eagerly with a smile.
Then he went off to help his associate apply the bandages to the young boy lying in the cot on the ground.
Too tired to argue, Hawke closed her eyes and settled down on the empty, soft cot. She laid there for a while waiting for Anders' return but eventually drifted off, the thoughts of a certain lyrium-marked elf on her mind...
"Where is he now?"
"Still in the Free Marches, my lord. In Kirkwall, I believe."
"Can't we just kill him?"
"No!" Danarius glared at the dark-haired, hot-tempered young man who spoke out of turn, yet again.
"My lord, he seems to have made certain beneficial connections with some people of interest there. Higher members of their society, I'm told..."
"Ah, yes. So it seems." Danarius smiled to himself. "I am proud of him, for once."
"You have me. You don't need him anymore!"
"Quiet, Silas! Don't make yourself out to be a fool! Respect the masters' wishes and hold your tongue!"
"I understand your eagerness, Silas, but my dear Fenris needs to be here, with me. He... he is very vulnerable without me and..." Danarius' long, bony fingers trembled as he spoke. "And he needs to be here before he remembers."
"Hadriana has already died, master. If you had sent me -"
"Yes, that was disappointing, wasn't it? She was quite skilled, too."
"He might want to kill you too, master."
Danarius laughed. "You silly fool. I know Fenris wants to kill me."
"You're not scared, master?"
"Scared? No, no, no... He can't kill me until I tell him what he wants to know." Danarius stared darkly into his wine glass, twirling the stem between his fingers. He took a sip. "That silly boy; I'm trying to protect him from himself. Because once he remembers it all, he'll want to kill himself."
"Should we send more after him?"
"Obviously," Danarius replied icily. "But this time, I have more precise instructions for you."
My little wolf, you are causing me quite a pretty coin. But I will take you back.
When Hawke awoke, the first thing she noticed was the smell. She was definitely in Darktown – in Anders' clinic. How long had she slept? Where was Anders?
She looked around, and impulsively grabbed her daggers on the table beside the bed. Someone had removed them from her gear and set them neatly beside her. Not only that, but she was also laying in a warm bed with soft, faded lavender covers washed over her.
It took Hawke a few minutes to gather herself and think back on what had happened.
Hightown. She had been walking around with her friends. They were shopping. Then Anders and Fenris got into a little spat and she had to break it up, as usual.
Oh, right. Then I dragged Fenris' sorry ass back to his home where we fucked. Then he proceeded to reject my offer for help again, and I stormed off.
And now she felt her rage and irritation creeping back into her bones.
Not one of her friends knew about her one-night stand with Fenris. The exception, of course, was Varric. She had told the dwarf on one occasion - when they were drinking. Then they had a long discussion about it the day afterward, whilst both hung over as shit.
"You up from your nap already?" Anders' voice came from behind the clinic partition.
"Unfortunately." She answered groggily.
She got up slowly, and looked around the clinic for the culprit as she fixed the daggers on her back.
It's getting late.
Anders' patients had either left, or were laying in their cots on the ground.
Walking out from his workspace partition, she spotted Anders immediately a few feet from her from the clinic doorway. She approached him silently and watched as he knelt down, his back to her. She had no idea what he was doing, and was suddenly curious.
"What are you up to?" She asked, walking over.
He didn't seem to be too surprised she was behind him; he was well aware of her presence. Perhaps it was one of the side effects of having a powerful spirit lurking inside of him – it gave him a sixth sense of some sort.
"Putting out milk." He set the dish down and stood up to turn towards her.
He was much taller than her, and it suddenly felt strange to have him so close to her – his height was almost overwhelming. Of course, that was probably because Fenris had been, well, shorter.
Hawke scolded herself for thinking about the damned elf again. She focused her attention to her kind friend instead; Anders was caring and sensitive, and apparently loved cats. Her mother would probably love to have Anders over for tea.
"I miss having a cat around, and think all the refugees have scared them all off." Anders said. Then, in a slightly lower tone, he added, "Or maybe eaten them."
He said this last statement with such a serious face, she didn't know whether to laugh because it was funny, or feel slightly awkward because it might've been true. Either way, she allowed herself to smile slightly.
"Do you feel better now?" He asked.
She nodded. "Yes, I do. Sorry for the inconvenience."
"Don't worry about that." He replied with a warm smile. "You seemed like you needed some good rest is all. Have you not been sleeping well at the manor?"
"You could say that." She replied, not wanting to divulge her personal matters to him so easily. She was still unsure whether to tell the others or not.
"Well, if it is anything I can do to help you, please let me know." He offered, making her smile.
Anders was always nicer to her, and more understanding. Even though there was something troubling her and he knew it, he would not force her to expose herself. There was a mutual respect – and she admired that between them.
Anders was staring into her eyes, looking as though there was something more he wanted to say. She studied him for a few seconds and though she couldn't fathom what he could possibly want to say to her, she gave him time to gather himself anyways.
"You know," he started. "I've been meaning to thank you. You don't need to stick your neck out for the mages here, but you have. You let all those apostates from Starkhaven start over. Maybe they can be an example for the world." His eyes gleamed at her in appreciation, and she was overwhelmed with a sense of pride for her work.
"Well, I try my best. It would obviously prefer for my friends to remain at my side, and not locked up."
It was true; Anders was a good friend of hers, and she did not want him in prison. The war between the templars and the mages was utterly ridiculous. Hawke had seen the troubles and hardships apostates such as her sister had to endure, and she considered herself an advocate of the freedom of mages. Of course, this did not mean that she thought all mages should not be a part of the Circle. The Circle had its purpose, but it should be up to the mages themselves to choose to go or not. Unless, of course, they had a severe problem controlling their powers.
Every time she was charged with a difficult decisions, she made sure to consider both sides of the argument. She wanted to maintain a diplomatic stance in these political times because she did not desire an all-out war. It had to be averted at all costs.
"Including me?"
"Of course," She replied, confused he would even ask. "You are my friend, Anders. It would kill me to see the Templars lock you away."
"I..." His eyes saddened and he looked down, ashamed. "I've tried to hold back. You saw what I almost did to that girl. You've seen what I am."
She reached out to gently touch his arm; she wanted to reassure him that there was a way to separate him from Justice. She would try her hardest to free him from his 'curse', because it was ruining his life.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Anders beat her to it.
"But I am still a man." He stated.
"Yes, and I can help you."
"Hawke, please. You heard what I said this afternoon. I was not joking."
She opened her mouth to speak and then suddenly remembered what happened that afternoon:
"I am genuine about my feelings."
Shit. Anders had said that, hadn't he? He had basically said he was... interested.
But that couldn't mean anything, could it?
"You can't tease me like this and expect me to resist forever." Anders told her.
Her tongue caught her throat, and she found herself at a loss.
"You know I have feelings for you, Hawke."
Shit. Shit. Double shit!
Had she been leading him on all this time and not known it? Surely there was some part of her that was aware that she had subconsciously been flirting with him. Perhaps this was the root of Fenris' irritation. Perhaps her hostile relationship with the elf had been amplified because of her naivety, or stupidity. Had she seriously flirted with Anders so much yet not been aware of his feelings?
That seemed to be the case.
Fuck. What did I do?
You're always flirting. Could it be that Anders took it seriously? Did you expect him not to? I mean, with Isabela it's all just fun and games but with Anders...
You dug yourself into this hole.
"Anders, listen..."
How could she say this without making it seem awkward?
"I am very flattered, but..."
She swallowed again. Had she ever had to reject someone this close before? Not really. But there was a first time for everything.
"But I'm not... I'm not on the lookout for anything serious right now."
"Oh," The disappointment and heartache in his voice made her feel incredibly guilty.
Is this the Maker's idea of a joke? I get my heart smashed into pieces, and now I've got to shatter Anders' heart?
"Well, at least that's one thing I can get closure on." Anders laughed awkwardly. "Better to have asked you and taken the chance than to have never asked at all, I guess."
"Anders, I'm really sorry."
"I'm fine, Hawke. Really." Anders reassured her, back to his normal self it seemed. "To be honest, I'm a little relieved too."
"You are?"
"It would've been a terrible idea." He laughed again. "I mean, I'm a Grey Warden; I carry the Taint. Besides, with Justice occupying half my time, it wouldn't have worked out anyway."
"Well, that's awfully pessimistic." She crossed her arms.
"Yes, well... seeing what I've seen will make you that way, I'm afraid. Out of curiosity," Anders cleared his throat. "Will there be a time when you will feel ready for, you know, something serious?"
"I'm not... I'm not so sure." Hawke plopped herself down on the cot she had just woken up to. "To be honest, I just... I recently had my heart broken."
"Oh, I see. I am sorry to hear that." Anders sat down next to her, paused for a second before asking: "Was it someone we know? You don't have to answer."
Hawke weighed in on her options. But the idea of talking about her heartache seemed appropriate right now. Anders would understand, right? Or was she being selfish by dumping her emotional baggage on him?
She silently nodded her head, afraid to speak. Her lip was trembling and her hands curled into fists.
"Was it... Fenris?"
She didn't even reply. She didn't need to.
Just the mention of Fenris' name shook her in a painful way. It was aching pain that was mixed with anguish, confusion, and rage.
She turned from Anders, unable to look him in the eyes.
"You both have been acting strange lately, so I put two and two together and figured..."
Were we obvious? I suppose we were.
He probably thinks I have terrible tastes. I mean, Anders is caring and nice; he and I have more in common than... Fenris. What the fuck is wrong with me? Am I really choosing Fenris over Anders?
"Do you want to talk about it?" Anders asked quietly.
A tear slowly rolled down her flushed cheek. "Not really. I'm sorry, Anders."
"Oh dear," Anders pulled her into a hug, offering her words of condolences: "Don't... Hawke, don't cry. I'm here. I'm not mad. It's okay. Everything's okay."
She didn't want to burden him. She just rejected his affection for her. He was vulnerable too. Who was she to lay on her own problem on top of it?
"I can't... I shouldn't..." She pulled away from him. "I shouldn't burden you with this. Not after..."
"Hey, we're still friends. And this is what friends are for, aren't they?"
Oh, Anders.
She started bawling, hands flying to her running nose and puffy eyes to cover up the ugliness of it all.
She didn't want him seeing her like this. All because of Fenris. How could she, strong-willed and well-grounded Hawke, be crying just because she got dumped by some stupid, stupid man?
Anders held her hand and let her cry to her heart's content.
And he never left her side.
The walk back towards the mansion was not an easy one. She went through Darktown, through the docks, and watched the moon in the clear skies.
There was a cool wind tonight. It felt oddly refreshing blowing through her hair. She closed her eyes for a second to enjoy the chilled, silent Hightown alleyways.
Oh Anders, I'm so sorry.
She still felt bad for what she did; Anders was kind and passionate at everything he stood for. But when it came to her, she did not find him inherently attractive. To be honest, she saw little of him past a good friend.
Even though he insisted otherwise, she felt a strange, awkward energy between her and Anders now. And she didn't like it. A part of her wished she had never known that he had strong feelings for her. A part of her wished he had never confessed anything to her.
She wanted to continue being friends with him without... this. But then she'd be in greater turmoil because she wanted her friends to be honest with her. Anders had courageously told her how he felt, and she had rejected him in the most friendly, straight-forward way possible. There was really no other way it could've gone. Unless, of course, she wanted to give a relationship with Anders a try.
But I don't like him that way. And I don't think I ever will.
She paused for a second. But mother would at least be pleased. She's always nagging me to find a nice, young man...
She scoffed internally. Bah, as if she would ever do anything just because her mother asked her to. She'd always done things the way she deemed appropriate.
Damn it, why did everything seem to only get more and more complicated?
Even after her cry, she didn't bother explaining what happened between her and Fenris to Anders; he didn't need to know.
Still, she was unsure what to do and she needed help.
"Varric," she muttered under her breath.
She didn't want to divulge her drama to the dwarf any more than she already had, but he was a good listener and gave her resounding advice that she needed to hear, even if she didn't want to. He was her best friend, in a sense.
The night was breezy and the air was refreshing.
She inhaled slowly, telling herself to calm down as she made her way towards the Docks to the Hanged Man.
Snap.
She turned, hand on her bow instinctively.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose.
Someone is following me.
"Who's there?" She called out. "Am I crashing someone's fun party?"
"You must be Olivier Marian Hawke."
She turned to find herself suddenly with unwanted company under the moonlight.
"Well, if you know my full name, something tells me you already know exactly who I am." She replied to her hostiles.
"Well met, serah." The shadowy figures walked towards her confidently, into the light for her to examine.
Carta Thugs.
She drew her blades and gazed at them with a smirk. "Well, what a pleasant surprise. And to whom do I owe this pleasure?"
The dwarf in the front lines took out his axe and held it firmly with his two hands, replying, "Cut the jokes. You are to accompany us to the slums of Darktown immediately, on behalf of our boss."
"And who is this 'boss' that you speak of?" She asked as she readied her blades, studying the moves of her enemies slowly. If she used a flask of miasma, it would surely give her enough time...
"Come with us, and you will find out." The dwarf implied anything but amnesty. "Our boss is waiting."
"Then he can wait a while longer."
"Do not try to make this harder than it should be. I would hate to spoil the face of a pretty woman."
"Oh, was that a compliment? Or a threat? I couldn't tell." She readied herself to grab at the miasmic flask she had concealed beneath her lightweight armor.
The dwarf made no further attempts to negotiate at that point, and in a few split seconds, Hawke had at least five of their thugs stumbling around from the effects of her poison.
She moved quickly, using the musk and gas she concocted in her free time to mask her movements and whereabouts on the battlefield temporarily. It proved to be a excellent tactic she used time and time again. Her blades were not as sharp as she wanted, but they would be more than sufficient in this battle. The thugs were not a problem for her.
Her blade sliced through the arm of her red-haired assailant just as she kicked the leader against the dusty wall of the alleyway. They were no match and lay bleeding to death in the dirt. Hawke treaded towards their leader, whom clutched the wall dearly with one hand, and used his other hand to cover up the gaping wound in this side. She placed her left blade back into its sheath behind her back, and pushed the injured dwarf against the wall, pointing her retracted blade against his throat.
He whimpered softly, barely loud enough for her to hear.
"Who sent you?" She demanded from him, serious and enraged from battle. "Who would have me killed? Speak now!"
"S-Sorry! We were only paid to do it! I don't know what grudge they have!"
"Just tell me who sent you." She emphasized through her teeth. This time angrily.
"I-It was-"
"HAWKE! Get your head down!"
She turned down just in time to hear a whizzing noise loud and clear, followed by a hot friction near her earlobe.
Blood followed.
Then another distant, whizzing noise whistling in the opposite direction, followed by the sound of Varric reloading Bianca.
When she turned back, the thug leader was dead, with a arrow impaled through his mouth. The dwarf stared at her in agony, foaming a thick purple ooze from his lips. He shuddered in the most grotesque manner before he passed from the pain.
That arrow in his mouth. It was meant for me. She shuddered.
"Are you alright?" Varric hurried towards her, his crossbow clinking in his arms.
She nodded at him.
"That was a close call." Varric said. "Good thing I spotted you when I did. Too bad the assassin got away though. I hope I grazed him."
She shook her head. "I wouldn't worry about it for now," She assured him. "An assassin or two can be easily taken care of."
"Um, I think you're missing a few screws, kid." Varric answered. "Did you miss the fact that you almost just got killed?"
"I'm still here, aren't I?"
"If it weren't for me."
Varric carefully grabbed the arrow on the impaled dwarf from his mouth with a gloved hand. The corpse slumped onto the ground. The purple ooze continued to pour from his orfices.
"Careful," Varric motioned her to stay back. "I don't know what this stuff is. It might be better if we just stay back."
"Then why are you holding onto that?" She asked, brow raised and pointing to the arrow in his hand.
"I need it." He replied, rolling the arrow in a thick canvas cloth before tucking it safely away in his knapsack.
"You really think this is worth looking into? The assassin's probably long gone by now. I'm sure he's relieved that he prevented his accomplice from divulging any secrets. It was just a regular hit doled out by anyone. We've got nothing to go on, Varric."
"These assassins were specially hired. Look at their insignia -it's not the Carta this time. Besides, this isn't a poison I'm familiar with." Varric frowned, crossing his arms. "I don't know - this one feels shady, Hawke."
They started walking down the alley, disarming themselves from battle. She felt a lot safer now that she had a friend, to be honest. Perhaps this way, she no longer needed to meet Varric to talk at the Hanged Man.
"Why aren't you at least worried?" Varric asked, though his voice showed no more signs of nervousness or panic than hers did. Their nonchalant and cool attitude matched, and that was one of the reasons they had gotten along so well.
"There's little I can do now, Varric. You know that." She explained. "Besides, if I give them time, they'll come back for the completion of their mission. I'll find out what's going on then."
"True enough," Varric advised.
From a distance, Hawke could see another figure rush towards them. She slowed her step and prepared to pull out a dagger, when...
From out of the dark, a snowy-haired warrior stormed towards them, his blade at his back and his face scowling.
"Fenris!" Hawke lowered her hand.
"I gave chase, but the assassin slipped into the shadows and I lost him, Varric." Fenris paused and froze in his steps at the sight of a new addition to their party:
"Hawke? What are you doing out here at this time of night?" He asked, visibly surprised.
"I could ask you the same question."
HEADS UP: THIS IS THE LAST UPDATED CHAPTER (7/29/16) FOR MY REVISION OF THIS STORY.
Everything after this chapter may not make sense anymore so read all following chapters with caution.