The night was cool and crisp and the sea air ruffled the walls of sprawling ivy along the old mansions lining up the path to Hightown. Thankfully, it had been an uneventful walk and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the Hawke estate as she turned the corner. She opened the main door and swiftly locked it behind her. She half expected Ursol to come bounding up to greet her in the small garden as he often did, but the night was quiet. He'd taken to bedding in the same room as Sandal, with whom he'd established a little society of mutual admiration. She made her way towards the entrance when she sensed slight movement behind her. She turned around rapidly, only to see Fenris, sitting on the garden bench, leaning against the wall as if he had been waiting for a while. He rose to meet her.
"I've been thinking about what happened to Hadriana. I took out my anger on you…Undeservedly so. I was…not myself. I'm sorry."
"I had no idea where you went. I was concerned," she managed to say after a brief silence. It was the truth.
"I needed to be alone," he explained. He began to tell her about Hadriana, how she tortured him: she humiliated him, starved him, and pulled him out of his slumber constantly, all out of spite…and cowardice. Despite his skills, he was unable to fight her back because of his status, and Hadriana knew it. His eyes were downcast as he spoke, but she could sense that familiar anger building up. But there was something else she could sense— his profound grief. He expressed some regret over not keeping his word, but his anger had been too much to bear; he could not forgive her. She offered him some words of consolation, but he wouldn't have it.
"This hate…I thought I had gotten away from it, but it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again, to know it was they who planted it inside me…It was too much to bear."
Let me bear it with you, then, she thought sadly, and it won't be such a hardship.
He noticed the pained look in her eyes and must have misinterpreted her intent. He stopped abruptly.
"Aah. But I didn't come here to burden you further," he stated apologetically.
How do I get through to you? How can I help you understand?
Hawke watched him turn away from her and felt panic rise inside her. Despite her better judgment, her hand shot out and grasped his arm.
"You don't have to leave, Fenris," she pleaded. The markings on his skin surged with energy, as if incensed by his anger. He whirled around, and taking her firmly by the arms, backed her away from himself and into the wall. His skin crackled from the burst, but it quickly dissipated. He refused to look her in the eyes, but loosened his grasp.
My words seem to make things worse anytime I try to mend things between us. If I can't tell you how I feel, if the words ring false because words hold such little currency with you, because you know how easily promises and oaths can be broken, then let me show you, let my acts speak for me, she thought.
She moved towards him, but did not break his grip. At that moment he appeared lost, almost tired of himself. She met his gaze with resolve and leaned in, unexpectedly, kissing him fully on the lips. He tensed from the surprise, but did not pull away. Before he could react, she rapidly stepped around him and pushed his back against the wall, covering him with her body, seeking his lips with hers. His breath quickened and he kissed her back, hungrily, his arms encircling her waist, pulling her even closer to himself. It was inebriating, the desire that overcame her. It was not enough, she thought, her hands gently caressing that face she had loved for so long. They broke away from their embrace, breathlessly. She met his intense gaze and entwining her fingers in his, silently guided him into the foyer of the great house, up the stairs. He followed her to her bedroom.
She lead him to the large, canopied bed. She quickly shed her coat and vest as he reached out for her, tugging her back to him by her shirt. His hands fumbled with clasps, seeking out her skin beneath the collar with his lips. She found herself momentary flummoxed by the many straps tying his vest together and she caught the expression of amusement on his face as he contemplated her puzzled look. He began to help her, and as he did, she started to kiss him tenderly, carefully, so as not to hurt the etchings on his skin, on his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, his mouth, his cheeks, his ears and down his neck. She helped him slip off his heavy vest and undershirt, tossing them on the ground. The lyrium etchings ran down his chest, abdomen, and disappeared beneath his belt. He caught her staring at them and for a moment he looked away, as if ashamed. She brushed her fingers over his chest and he closed his eyes. She gently pushed him onto the bed, straddling his hips with her legs. She leaned over him and caressed the markings on his chest softly.
I love every inch of you. Don't you dare be ashamed of yourself, she thought.
He cupped her face and drew it back to his, seeking her mouth again, more urgently, his hands tugging at the wraps around her chest. He caressed her bare skin, burying his face in her hair, his breath warm against her neck. She could feel her heart pounding and wondered if he could feel it, too. She climbed away from the bed for a moment to remove the remainder of her clothes under his watchful gaze. She stood before him, completely naked.
I'm yours.
She felt a shiver of pleasure run down her back as he reached for her, his eyes feverish with desire.
When she awoke, she knew she hadn't been asleep for very long. It was still night, she could tell from the crack between the curtains. She turned over to find the bed empty. She sat up on the bed feeling a slight confusion that rapidly crystallized into dread. She found Fenris standing before the fireplace. He was fully dressed, as if ready to rush out the door. Her mouth felt dry.
"Was it that bad?" she cried, startling him out of his pensive stance. He turned to her sheepishly.
"It's not…It was…fine!" he blurted out. She found herself arching an eyebrow at him.
Fine?
"No…" he continued, slightly exasperated, "that is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed," he stated pointedly, holding her gaze.
"Your markings," she guessed. "They hurt, don't they?"
"It's not that," he admitted. "I began to remember…my life before…Just…flashes." He paused for a moment before raising his hands in frustration. " It's too fast…I cannot do this!"
Hawke swung her legs over the bed, intrigued.
"Your life before? What do you mean?"
"I've never remembered anything from before the ritual. But there were…faces…words. For just a moment I could recall all of it…" his voice trailed off. "And then it slipped away."
"Don't you want to get your memories back?" she asked, genuinely intrigued. He sighed and began to pace slowly before the fire.
"Perhaps you don't realize how upsetting this is. I've never remembered anything…And to have it all come back in a rush…only to lose it…I can't! I can't…" he concluded sadly.
"We can work through this," she offered reassuringly. His face clouded and he looked at her sadly.
"I'm sorry. I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy," he lowered his head. "Just for a little while." He began to walk towards the door. "Forgive me," he murmured.
She watched as he disappeared beyond the doorway.
This might kill me if nothing else manages to, she thought.
She waited for the sunrise at her window, over the many towering walls of the city, wondering if she had done anything wrong. Nothing came to mind as she replayed the evening, pausing at different meanings, wondering if she was correct in how she interpreted them. They had made love twice during the night, unable to keep their hands off each other. She had never imagined him to be so gentle, so vulnerable, she thought, with a hollow ache in her chest. Why?
