Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for.
Sooo, this one kind of ran away with me. It's pretty long because there was still a lot to say in Act 1 and I was running out of time. Sorta cheesy and girly. Sorry. Hope you enjoy it!
The Sendoff
They had done it. They had raised enough money for the expedition and then some. Hawke was going over her list of supplies one more time before they left the next morning, when Isabella strolled in and leaned against the doorframe.
"We're giving you a proper sendoff at the Hanged Man tonight." She said. "You're coming, you're drinking, you're wearing something sexy."
"I don't have anything sexy." Hawke protested. That was the least of her problems with this plan.
"Leandra!" Isabella called, as she marched from the room.
Hawke's mother looked up with a smile. "How can I help you, dear?" She asked. Leandra liked Isabella very much. She said she was spunky. Hawke didn't think that was quite the right word.
"We're drinking at the Hanged Man and your delicious daughter has two men fighting over her. I want her to turn every head in the tavern. You should come, too. I promise it'll be marvelous good fun."
Leandra smiled broadly. "Selene will be fashionably late." Isabella hesitated a moment, clearly uncertain whether she could trust Leandra to do as she asked. "Come now, Isabella. I've turned more than a few heads in my day."
"I'll bet you did, you dirty bitch." Isabella said with a wink. "Have her ready in an hour."
"She'll be ready when she's ready, and not a moment sooner." Leandra called, as Isabella closed the door behind her.
"Mother, I don't think-" Hawke began.
"Hush, Selene. Mothers and daughters do this sort of thing and you're not going to take it away from me. Now tell me about these boys fighting over you. Are they handsome? What are their names? Do you like either of them? Can I meet them? I have the perfect look in mind for you, where did I put my kohl?"
Hawke had not seen her mother look so lively in months. She could only sit in stupefied silence as Leandra fussed and rained questions down upon her. This was the first she'd heard of any men fighting over her. Whom was Isabella talking about?
At the Hanged Man, Isabella was growing impatient. She glanced at Merrill who was practically bouncing in her chair in anticipation, and smiled. Varric winked at her. The three of them had worked to bring this evening together. They'd been watching the tension grow between Anders, Fenris, and Hawke and found the whole thing vastly amusing. Varric said that Hawke was an innocent and had no idea either man had any intentions toward her; but Isabella didn't think anyone could be that oblivious. No, this was a carefully executed flirtation. The less she spoke, the more they listened. Her quiet demeanor, her cool façade, and her ridiculous unspoken rules about personal space made all of the want to be closer to her. Hawke was an artist. She was mysterious and aloof and beautiful, and she had sparked something in Fenris and Anders; something that was dangerously close to igniting, and Isabella wanted to be there when it did.
But where was she? Everyone had arrived save Carver and Hawke, and a storm was rolling in. Isabella was concerned that Hawke's responsible nature would keep her home. But no. She had secured promises from Carver and Leandra that Hawke would make an appearance.
"By the Dread Wolf!" Merrill piped. Even in her irritation, she sounded perky. "I thought Carver and Selene would be here by now."
"Who is Selene?" All other talk cut off abruptly and everyone turned to stare at Fenris. Isabella thought her jaw might hit the floor. All this time, all those hot stares when she wasn't looking, and he never even knew her name? This was so good it had to be fattening.
"What, are you serious?" Varric asked, a slight giggle coloring his voice.
"Selene Hawke." Aveline explained, business-like as ever. "Carver Hawke's older sister. Did she really not tell you her name?"
Fenris shook his head and frowned. "…Selene…" He said her name slowly, as though he was tasting it.
As if naming her was a summons, Selene and Carver entered the Hanged Man, dripping from the rain. Isabella clicked her tongue in irritation. She was going to have a long talk with Leandra. A black duster covering her from neck to ankles with a guitar case strapped to her back was not sexy. Well, maybe a little, but still not what she had in mind.
"A jigger or your finest whiskey for my friends, here." Isabella called to the barkeep as Hawke and Carver approached. Hawke unstrapped her guitar and propped it in the corner. She moved to take a nearby chair, but Carver stopped her.
"Coat, Selene." Was all he said.
"I'm not-" she protested.
"You're fine. Coat."
Ah, so there is something under there, Isabella thought with glee. A very different Selene was hiding under that duster. Carver slipped Hawke's coat from her bare shoulders with a smile. She was wearing the burgundy corset that usually accompanied her robes, but there was no robe underneath. The bust plunged low, showing a more than generous amount of cleavage, and was laced tightly to accent her narrow waist and the gentle flare of her hips. Her pants were soft black leather that hugged her like a second skin, showing off her perfect bum to anyone who wanted to see…And people were looking. Her boots added several inches to her height, with silver buckles up to the knee. Her hair was loose for a change, framing her face and dripping wet, and she wore a simple line of kohl around her eyes. Her masterful lack of jewelry drew your eyes to her other…assets. Leandra had outdone herself.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor tore Isabella's attention away from Hawke. Anders was on his feet and staring at the other mage, lust darkening his features. She quickly glanced over to Fenris, gauging his reaction. He was glaring furiously at Hawke, but his eyes smoldered with a different emotion entirely.
"Selene, you look…amazing." Anders said, bringing her hand to his lips for a kiss. He never called her by her first name, and Isabella knew it was just to needle Fenris. A foolish move; Isabella didn't think Fenris could get any angrier. Hawke was bringing Varric, Carver, and Aveline with her into the Deep Roads - a mission Fenris desperately wanted to be part of, she never told him her first name, and now Anders was kissing her hand and she was blushing prettily. This was going to be a fun evening.
Aveline smirked when Hawke snatched her hand back and quickly moved to put the table between herself and the other mage. She did not approve of either man's infatuation with her friend. This was undoubtedly the reason the guardswoman had worked so hard to squeeze Fenris out of the expedition. A reason Isabella didn't entirely understand. She was grateful not to be going. It seemed it was more than just the men who wanted to be Hawke's champion - not that she needed one.
"Will you be playing for us tonight?" Aveline asked, gesturing to Hawke's guitar.
"If you're good." She replied, eyeing her whiskey dubiously.
"I didn't know you're a musician." Anders said.
"She plays for the orphans at the Chantry a few times a week." Varric told him, sounding bewildered.
"That's not really playing." Carver said, with a smile. "Before she got the guitar Father said she was more muse than mage. A shame he can't see her now. If you really want to know what she can to with that thing, you have to follow her to the Wounded Coast."
Even Aveline seemed surprised at that. Isabella was starting to wonder if any of them really knew Hawke. She wondered how close to the truth they would get if they all pooled their knowledge. Fenris was looking slightly less angry and more intrigued. Isabella guessed he would be following Hawke to the Wounded Coast very soon.
Hawke was beginning to look embarrassed by all the attention. She downed her whiskey, then Carver's, then went to the bar for a fresh round. Isabella was impressed; she hadn't pegged Hawke for a drinker. She was even more impressed when Hawke was stopped three times on the way back to the table by men asking for a dance. She refused politely, but she looked very uncomfortable and was growing withdrawn. Fenris was back to glaring. Not at Hawke this time, but at the men staring at her.
"Do you mind if I smoke?" Varric asked at the same time as Hawke, and then laughed. "I think I'm beginning to know you, my friend." He gestured to an empty chair between himself and Fenris.
"Do you smoke very often?" Merrill asked, watching Hawke with fascination.
"All the time." Carver answered for his sister.
"Perhaps if someone kept her drink full she wouldn't have time to think about it." Isabella said, setting a fresh jigger in front of her.
"Conspiring, Isabella?" Hawke said, with mock severity. She slammed the now empty glass on the table. "I would expect such tactics from Aveline, but never you."
"Jokes? From Hawke? A special occasion, indeed." Anders said, raising his glass. "I think we should get you drunk more often."
"Selene jokes all the time. It's just that she's not funny." Carver winced when Hawke bounced a saltcellar off his shoulder.
"You're just jealous that Isabella wants to look at my chest instead of yours tonight." Hawke said, waggling her eyebrows. She hiccupped and everyone at the table burst into shocked giggles. This was a side of her none of them had ever seen.
"Perhaps whiskey isn't your drink." A velvety voice murmured next to her ear. Hawke shivered as Fenris's breath tickled her neck. He offered her his wine. "This might be more to your liking. You don't want to overdo it, after all."
"She absolutely does want to overdo it." Varric protested. "We orchestrated this whole evening to see Hawke in the throes of drunken debauchery."
"She needs a clear head if she's to survive the Deep Roads." Aveline said, siding with Fenris.
"A hangover isn't going to last for weeks, Aveline. Besides, she's only had four shots. She'll be fine." Isabella said. The table exploded into argument over how much alcohol Hawke would imbibe that evening. They discussed her tolerance for alcohol versus her tolerance for sativa - which none of them really knew anything about anyway, and what would happen when she combined them.
Hawke glanced at Carver, hoping to gain some understanding of why everyone was so excited about her getting drunk. Carver just shrugged and a slow smile spread across his face. Damn him. He had something to do with this. Varric noticed the silent exchange, and slid another shot Hawke's way with a wink and a smile. Hawke stood, raising her glass as if to toast.
"Compromise is the key to civilization." She swayed slightly. She was starting to feel warm and giddy. "I will take this shot and a shot to be named later. For the rest of the evening, I will drink wine. As much or as little as I choose." She threw the shot back and flopped into her chair. Several men around the tavern cheered.
"I promise you'll like it." Fenris said, offering his wine to Hawke once more.
"I'll bet you say that to all the girls." Isabella drawled, leaning across the table to show off even more of her bosom than usual. Fenris glared at her ferociously when Hawke blushed to the roots of her hair and leaned away from him.
"Never to a mage, I'd wager." Varric said.
The corner of Hawke's mouth twitched and her eyes were shining with some emotion Fenris couldn't name. He wondered if that almost imperceptible gesture had been a smile. She was a hard one to read, his little mage. Her fingers brushed his when she accepted his wine, leaving a tingling feeling that didn't fade when she took her hand away. He copied the gesture when she offered him her pipe. He enjoyed smoking with her. It was soothing, and he would be lying if he said it didn't please him that no one else smoked with her. He liked that there was something only the two of them shared; and now they were sharing his wine as well. She still kept her distance, but she was becoming more comfortable with him, and that was enough for Fenris.
Anders frowned as he watched the exchange between Hawke and Fenris. Hawke had been very clear regarding Anders' interest in her, but he could not stand by and watch as this bitter elf sank his talons into her. There was only one way he knew how to stop it. Anders was not accustomed to losing games of seduction, and he wanted Hawke very badly. She'd haunted his dreams since he met her, her perfect body hovering over his, her doll's face looking down at him, flushed with her passion. He wondered if there were anything he wouldn't give to make that dream a reality.
More than lust though, he respected her. She held fast to her ideals, no matter how difficult. She met every challenge with poise and confidence. He found himself picking fights just to get a rise out of her. It didn't work very often, but he couldn't get the day she'd mind-blasted him out of his mind. He wondered idly if he'd fallen in love with her that day. That was real emotion she'd shown him, raw and bleeding. He wanted to see it again. Not her pain, but her emotion. Anything to crack that insufferable mask of cold reason, to make her seem human.
Is that it?Justice asked. Or do you want to believe she's as weak as you are?
I am not weak. Anders told his other half, firmly. Where was this coming from?
Friend or no, that girl would never have made the pact we did. Put it from your mind.
Do you really think I'm weak?
You think you are, since you met her. You doubt yourself and me. I can hear you asking yourself what she would have done in your shoes. I tell you now that I would have wasted away if she did not kill me on the spot. If she didn't need us, I doubt we would have survived the introduction.
You never did say how you know her.
I encountered her once in the Fade.
Did you proposition her? Anders felt cold when Justice didn't answer. Is there any way she could recognize you? Silence. He would hear no more from Justice tonight.
"Brooding, Anders? How unlike you." Hawke said, with a raised eyebrow. Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was no sting in it. She had forgiven him his careless words.
"Not a bit of it." He said, putting on his warmest smile. "I was just wondering about your…guitar is it called? What is it?"
Hawke's eyes fairly glowed with enthusiasm. She reached for her case and pulled the instrument out with loving hands. "It's like a lute," she said, "but a lute can't stand up to this sound. You need magic to really play it, but even without it, it's still the most amazing instrument I've ever beheld."
"It doesn't look like any lute I've ever seen." Anders said, eyeing the instrument. It was beautiful; he had to give her that. The body was slim and curved like an hourglass, allowing Hawke to curl around it comfortably. It was lacquered midnight blue, flecked with silvery constellations, and polished to a high gloss. It seemed to belong with her. "Where did you get such a thing?"
"A boy made it for her back in Lothering because she sang him a song and gave him a flower." Carver answered, barely suppressed laughter lacing his voice.
"Is that really what happened?" Merrill asked. "Are you sure Varric didn't make that up? It sounds like something he'd say."
"I don't think even I could've come up with that, Daisy." Varric protested. "It's so ridiculously sweet it has to be true. How about it, Hawke? Is that the way it happened?"
"Mostly." Hawke muttered into Fenris's wine cup. "He fell and skinned his knee, so I healed him and put a flower in his hair. He ordered me to sing the song."
Carver did laugh, then. "The way he strutted around all day with that flower in his hair, you would have thought it was a gift from Andraste herself. The next morning he showed up with that guitar for Selene. What was his name? Shoe?"
"Sandal. His name was Sandal." Hawke's eyes sparkled as she remembered him. He was a simply boy, but she liked him. He'd called her Bird. She wondered what had become of him and fervently hoped he survived the Blight. That guitar meant the world to Hawke. It had become an outlet to relieve her despair, to give her peace during troubled times.
"So what was the song? Will we hear it tonight?" Aveline asked.
Hawke closed her eyes and breathed deeply, returning in her mind to the place where she met Sandal.
It was hot that day, rare for Ferelden. She was staring out at the pond just outside Lothering, watching dragonflies bob and weave over the still water.
Hawke's fingers moved gently over the strings of her guitar, swaying with the memory of that day.
It was a warm, lazy song she played him; a song to match the day. She only had a normal lute then, and she was frustrated with her progress. It just didn't convey her feelings. She was tempted to quit, but she had given up on so many things in the two years since her kidnapping. If she didn't hang on to this much at least, she feared she might lose herself.
As she remembered a faint floral smell tickling her nostrils, she began to sing in a low, husky voice. Unbeknownst to her, she'd captivated the Hanged Man.
She'd followed the smell until she found a single stargazer lily in full bloom. They were her favorite flower, and rare to find growing wild. She knew she should leave it alone, but she couldn't stop herself from picking it.
Lute and flower in hand, Hawke wandered over to sit under a nearby shade tree, only to discover someone had gotten there first. A dwarven boy looked up at her, pale and tear-stained.
"Oww!" He sobbed, pointing to his knee. It was just a small scrape, hardly any blood at all, but he was very distressed over it, nonetheless. Hawke smiled gently and brushed her fingers against his wound, healing it instantly. The boy smiled at her tremulously. "Enchantment?" He asked.
"But don't tell anyone." Hawke said, kindly. She tucked the stargazer lily behind his ear. "Feel better?"
"Enchantment!" He exclaimed, flinging himself into her lap. A wide grin split Hawke's face and she wrapped her arms around the boy, resting her chin on his head. It was nice to sit with someone who didn't look at her with pity in their eyes.
"My name is Hawke." She whispered to him.
"Bird?" He absently plucked the strings of her lute.
"Selene."
"Moon?" He brightened and pointed to his chest importantly. "Sandal!"
"I like you, Sandal." Hawke whispered. "Do you think we could be friends?"
Sandal thrust the lute at her. "Play." He commanded, but he refused to leave her lap. She was forced to hold the instrument in front of him and play around him. It was awkward, but it also felt nice. She sang one of her favorite faerie tales to him, about a young boy's dream to run away and practice magic among the Dalish. A dream she had shared once, but now was lost like so many other dreams along the way.
She never saw Sandal again after that day. She awoke the next morning to discover he and his father had moved on. They'd left her a gift, though. The beautiful blue instrument was leaning against her porch with a sloppily scrawled note that simply read, Bird Guitar Enchantment Sandal.
As soon as she touched it, she felt a strange resonance that reminded her of her staff. Was it possible? He'd folded lyrium into it! She could feel the lightning crackle in her fingertips as she gave it an experimental strum. The guitar let out a savage wail loud enough to wake the neighbors. She tried again without magic, and it sounded more like a lute, but there was something more to it - something deeper. She let it wail again and fat tears sprang from her eyes. She felt like laughing, like jumping up and down and clapping her hands. She didn't know how Sandal had done it, but she would cherish this gift for the rest of her days, and pray for the day that she might return the favor.
As the last notes of her song faded away, Hawke looked up to discover the Hanged Man had gone completely silent and every last set of eyes was focused on her. She could feel her face heating in another obnoxious blush, and she took a deep drink of wine. She peeked at her companions. No one was saying anything.
"Was - was it that bad?" She asked, nervously. "I haven't played that song in a long time and-"
"Selene, it was so beautiful!" Merrill gushed. "Can you teach me to play the way you do? Will you play another song? Please?" Shouts and cheers rose up around the bar, offering encouragement.
Selene looked at Carver helplessly. "What should I play?"
"Walking the Fade." He answered without hesitation.
"Don't you think it's a little sad for the setting?"
"So play a happy one after. Besides, it's your favorite, and it shows."
Fenris watched with fascination as Hawke launched into another song. Where the first one was warm and languorous, this song seemed to carve out his soul with its mesmerizing intensity. Her fingers danced gracefully over the strings and she sang as if this song were about someone else. Only a fool would believe such a thing. Maker, what had happened to his little mage? What possible reason could Carver have for requesting this song, for forcing his sister to bare her soul to all? His hand tightened on his wine cup and he felt the metal give slightly.
"Hey," Carver said, leaning in so he could talk with Fenris. "She wanted to bring you, you know."
"Bring me where, exactly?" Fenris asked in a flat voice.
"The Deep Roads, you dumb shit. I know you wanted to go. I just thought you should know that she wanted you to come. Aveline talked her out of it. She's going in your place."
"And why does Aveline want to go so badly?"
"Two reasons. First, my sister attracts crazy; second, Selene has saved Aveline's life many times now. I think the guardswoman is seeking to repay the debt. Oh, and one more thing. Aveline came over with us one the ship from Gwaren. She pulled rank."
"I didn't think she was that manipulative." Fenris grumbled.
"All women are." Carver whispered, so as not to be heard. Aveline's complete lack of expression said he'd failed. Carver didn't know how far he should pursue this line of questioning, but he couldn't stop himself from making a foolish promise. "I will protect my sister. She will come out of this whole."
"See that she does." Fenris's tone didn't leave room for response. The conversation was over. He turned his attention back to Hawke. She played with her eyes downcast, so only the people she was sitting with could see how the green danced with the candlelight. She stared at the floor, unseeing. Her voice became hollow and desperate as she sank further into the abyss. He wanted to stop her, there was no need to put herself through this, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was bound as surely as everyone else in the room. He could only watch and listen.
Fenris looked around at Hawke's companions. Isabella and clapped one hand over her mouth, her eyes shining with unshed tears. That was a surprise. He would not have expected such emotion from the pirate. Then he noticed several other men and women around the bar, wearing much the same expression. Varric was closely examining Bianca for scratches, carefully keeping his face in the shadows. Merrill wept quietly, uncaring of those who might see her. Anders was the one who interested him, however. His face was pale, his lips bloodless. Every so often, he trembled slightly as he watched her with glittering eyes so dark they were nearly black. He looked terrified and horrified. Did he get something out of the song the rest of them had missed?
Hawke peeked at her companions through her lashes. Favorite song or no, Hawke suddenly wished she hadn't listened to Carver. Her friends looked positively miserable. Her brother, on the other hand, looks like the cat that swallowed the canary. The sadist. She thought to herself. Not for the first time, she wondered if Carver enjoyed her awkwardness more than was natural for a little brother. There was only one way to combat the mood she had created. Without pausing to take the hit from the pipe she so desperately wanted, she launched into a happier song. One sure to make them raise their glasses again.
She couldn't resist using just a little magic this time. Not enough for anyone to know what she was doing, just enough to enhance the sound a little. She glanced at Carver who smiled encouragingly. Her voice didn't carry the husky timbre of the first two songs. She sang loud, with confidence, and even let a hint of a smile shine through in her voice. Just as she'd hoped, before long people were tapping their feet to keep the beat. They were smiling again, and some even joined in for the chorus once they got the hang of it. By the time she finished, everyone was smiling again save Anders and Fenris. The elf simply looked thoughtful, but Anders was still staring at her, his face so pale that she wondered if he was ill.
Hawke packed her guitar away with care and hit her pipe with a grateful sigh. Fenris placed a shot in front of her with a questioning smirk. Hawke didn't hesitate to toss it back, and was rewarded for her efforts by a hacking cough. Varric laughed and pounded her between the shoulders.
"That," she gasped, "was not whiskey. Maker, what was that?"
"Absinthe!" Isabella said, with a delighted laugh. "You said a shot to be named later, and that's what we named it!"
"Gahh! You could have warned me. That was awful. Fucking shade piss! Bleckk!" Perhaps not the wisest decision she'd ever made, Hawke took a deep drink of wine to wash the taste of absinthe from her mouth. "Is it fucking warm in here, or what?" Her words seemed slow and exaggerated. Even Fenris joined the laughter this time.
Anders, on the other hand, seemed to have reached the end of his rope. He stood so fast his chair fell back behind him. He strode purposefully toward Hawke and, grasping her arm, hauled her none too gently to her feet. "We need to talk." He growled, his face mere inches from hers. There were too many witnesses here, and she was an apostate. She could not retaliate.
That was not an issue for the rest of her companions. Aveline's hand twitch toward her sword, Carver had unsheathed his. Fenris was not carrying any weapon as such, but his tattoos were glowing like the full moon.
"Son, you're about to get yourself into a whole mess of trouble." Varric said, in carefully casual tones. He leveled Bianca at the offending mage. "Now let the lady go and ask politely."
A muscle in Anders' cheek jumped, but he did as he was told. "Selene, I apologize for manhandling you the way I did. It was wrong, and I hope you'll forgive me. May we please speak privately for a moment?"
"No." Carver, Fenris, and Aveline said in unison.
"Hawke, you should not be alone with him in these circumstances." Fenris pressed.
"Ah, Fenris…Loyal protector of mages, is it?" Anders sneered.
Hawke didn't think it was possible for Fenris to glow any brighter, but he did. "Just Hawke." He said with a dark smile. "Her I will protect until my last breath." He wondered vaguely if this was all a dream. Was that really him, declaring himself for a mage? But she wasn't just any mage. She was his little mage. He frowned, wondering how long he'd though of her that way - as his. It didn't matter. He meant what he said. He could not remember a time before meeting her that he'd truly felt free, and she'd given him that. She always gave him a choice, always encouraged him to live as he wished. Danarius was still out there, but he was confident that she would stand by him when the time came, just as he would stand by her.
A hush had fallen over the Hanged Man, and Hawke wondered how much the other patrons had heard. Carver and Isabella sprang into action. Isabella pulled Hawke into a dark corner and passed her a small dagger.
"You have to leave now. Shit, you didn't bring your staff. What do you know about daggers? I can't make you a master, but I can teach you enough to keep you from hurting yourself."
"I can handle it." Hawke said, spinning it neatly in her hand before thrusting it into her belt.
"Don't hesitate to use it. Now go. Fenris will meet you outside.
"Why Fenris?" Hawke's eyes searched him out and found him speaking with Carver in hushed tones.
"Carver and Aveline are going to stay and put off anyone who tries to follow you. I'll get Anders back to his clinic, now go." Isabella thrust Hawke's guitar case into her arms and pushed her toward the door. Hawke went, strapping her case to her back once again so she would have freedom to move.
Fenris's eyes followed Hawke as she left the Hanged Man. Carver snapped his fingers in front of the elf's face. "Take her somewhere safe. I don't care where; just don't let the Templars see her. Meet us in Hightown in the morning. I plan to be the only Hawke the Templars find tonight. Fenris nodded and turned toward the door, but Carver stopped him. "Know this, elf," he warned, "if you lay a hand on my sister without her permission, your lyrium tattoos won't save you." Carver suddenly found himself pinned against the wall.
"Who?" Fenris snarled. "Does he still live?"
"Would that I had a name to give you. They likely died in the Blight." Carver said, shrugging him off. "Selene's outside waiting for you."
"Your trust is not misplaced."
oOo
The scene that greeted Fenris outside the Hanged Man was not what he expected. He knew it was foolish to imagine Hawke cowering in shadows, but neither had he expected to find her staring up at the sky, eyes closed, lips parted, arms stretched wide as the rain beat down on her. Her hair dripped down her back as rivulets of water raced down the column of her neck to caress her shoulders, and down to explore her full breasts, and down, and down until no part of her body had gone unexplored by the storm, and she was left soaking wet and sighing. She had never looked so soft, so touchable before. Fenris was grateful for the darkness; his pants were growing uncomfortably tight. It was going to be a long walk back to his mansion.
"The damage is done." Hawke sighed, when Fenris offered to go back inside to retrieve her coat. "I love the rain." She opened her eyes just a little to look at him. He wasn't wearing his armor or carrying his sword. That seemed significant for some reason. Something moved in her periphery. Everything seemed slow, fuzzy.
For a moment, Fenris thought Hawke was attacking him. Her dagger flashed in front of his face so fast that even if he'd been expecting it, he wouldn't have been able to block it. Then he heard the familiar ring of metal on metal. He didn't know how she was even able to see it, but she used that dagger to deflect and arrow that would have taken him in the throat. She pushed him hard behind her and launched a fireball in the direction the arrow had come from. The following screams said she hit her target.
"Are you alright?" She asked, examining him for injuries.
"I'm fine. Let's get out of here before we're noticed…some more." He said, taking her by the hand and pulling her toward Hightown. The journey to his mansion was relatively quiet, but twice he'd had to press Hawke into the shadows to avoid Templar notice. The second time, the Templars didn't pass through as quickly as they'd hoped. Fenris bowed his head low over hers.
"Put your arms around me." He commanded in a low whisper. "If they think we're lovers they'll be less likely to bother us." Fenris had to suppress a groan as Hawke wound her bare arms around his neck, pressing her body against him. She stiffened slightly when his arms slid around her waist.
"Trust me, Hawke." He murmured into her hair. "I promise you'll always be safe with me. I will never harm you; never allow harm to come to you." He held her trembling form in his arms for several minutes before something inside her seemed to give and her arms tightened around him, pulling his closer.
"Thank you, Fenris." Hawke whispered against his neck. Fenris would have been content to hold her like that all night, but the Templars were gone now and he needed to get her to safety.
A roaring fire sprang up in the fireplace as Fenris led a dripping Hawke to his chambers - the only room of the house he really used. She unstrapped her guitar case and knelt before the hearth. She pulled her guitar out and examined it carefully, making sure it hadn't been damaged or gotten wet. Fenris left her to her task, but returned a few minutes later with towels and a bottle of Agreggio.
"Any damage?" He asked, handing her a towel. He had draped his own over his head, peering out of it like a cowl.
"I don't think so. There is one more thing I have to do to be sure, but I was waiting to ask your permission."
"You didn't ask my permission to light the fire." He pointed out with a smile.
"That was different. You're accustomed to fire. This is something else entirely. I mean, it's just lightning, but the sound is-"
"It's fine. I have to admit you've made me curious." Fenris could feel the mana welling up inside her, resonating with his tattoos. Her fingertips sparked with electricity as she gently brushed the strings. He felt his jaw drop as Hawke's guitar roared to life. She only played a few chords before she nodded her satisfaction.
"Perfect." She sighed, and carefully returned it to the safe confines of its case.
"I've never heard anything like that." Fenris said, in awe. She'd only tested it out. He was suddenly eager to hear her play a full song. She had stirred something in him. Those eerily wailing notes made his heart pound and set fire to his blood.
"I have to travel away from cities to play it properly, but it's worth it. Do you play an instrument?"
Fenris shook his head. "Slaves are not permitted such things." He said, bitterly.
"Were not, you mean."
"I'm sorry?"
"Well, you're a free man now, are you not? You could learn if you wished." She smiled brilliantly when she looked at him. The first true smile he had seen from her. Maker, she was gorgeous. Her eyes sparkled sea green as the corners of her mouth curved upwards revealing straight, white teeth. Her hastily towel-dried hair hung limp in her face, making her look wild and exotic. He wanted to touch her, to have another excuse to pull her into his arms. Instead, he drank deeply from the bottle of Agreggio.
"Are you certain that's wise?" Hawke asked. She was still feeling the effects of the absinthe, all floaty and giddy and tingly.
"I'm accustomed to it." He assured her. "Besides, if you join me, I'll only drink half as much."
"As flawlessly logical as ever." She said, taking the bottle from him.
"Good of you to notice." He murmured, offering Hawke a chair. She declined in favor of standing in of the fireplace. "You're cold. I'll find you some dry clothes."
"You needn't concern yourself. It doesn't look like this storm is going to break any time soon."
Fenris stared. Isabella didn't tell her? "Hawke, you can't go home tonight. Those Templars were looking for someone. Stay here tonight and I will escort you to the meeting place tomorrow. Carver will be there with your staff and your pack. It's best to lay low tonight. I'm sorry, I thought you knew."
Hawke grew very still as the magnitude of the evening dawned on her. It had been a narrow escape tonight. "I should be fucking ashamed of myself." She said. "I've been doing this my whole life, and I didn't even think tonight. I just followed blindly where I was led. I'll never keep my freedom like this."
Fenris didn't say anything for a minute. Was she always so hard on herself? "You saved my life tonight." He told her, quietly. "I didn't see that arrow; I never sensed even the slightest bit of danger. I was unarmored and unarmed, and you protected me. There is no fault in taking a moment to breathe. You are safe here."
"And what happened if they catch me while I'm breathing? I have earned a reputation among the Templars. There will be no trial. They will make me Tranquil if they catch me. You are right to hate mages after what has been done to you, but I will die before I let the Templars sever my soul."
Fenris's stomach twisted painfully at the thought. "Hawke, I-"
"Well, if I'm staying, I think I'll take you up on those dry clothes after all." She interrupted him cheerfully.
"Of course." He said, both grateful and bewildered by the sudden change in the conversation. He recalled that some women's clothing had been left behind after he took Danarius's mansion. He rummaged through a chest until he found something that didn't feel like blood magic. A simple gown of white silk. Probably intended for a virgin sacrifice. He thought with a grimace. He did not share this with Hawke, however. He handed her the gown and led her to an adjoining room so she could have some privacy.
She returned a few minutes later looking positively angelic. The dress was several inches too long for her, the silk pooled at her feet. It was a little too tight in the bust, the scooped neckline accenting the gentle swell of her breasts and showing the slightest hint of cleavage. She had twisted her hair into a hasty bun, and several wispy tendrils escaped to frame her face and tickle her neck. In the soft light, he could see the outline of her lush body through the dress. Fenris's mouth went dry.
"I think this dress may have been intended for virgin sacrifices." She voiced his own thoughts back to him. "What do you think?" She asked, spreading her arms wide. Her belled sleeves trailed nearly to the floor. Laughter danced in her eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me your first name?" He hadn't meant to say that, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself. Her arms dropped back to her sides and she moved to sit next to him, staring thoughtfully into the fire.
Your name means "wolf" does it not?" She waited for his nod before continuing. "My name means "moon." I didn't want you to think I was teasing you. Varric certainly snickered about it when Carver told him. Given your feelings toward mages, I truly didn't think you cared to know. In your eyes, Merrill and Anders are the Blood Mage and the Abomination. You never give them their names. I suppose I felt lucky to be Hawke."
"You are not like them, Selene." He liked her name, liked the way it tasted on his tongue. It suited her. "I can see your strength. You've suffered your own tribulations, but you did not fold under the pressure. Real strength lies in the choices you make. I would not follow you if I did not believe that."
"Thank you, Fenris. That means more to me than you know."
They sat together in front of the fire for a long time, talking softly, smoking, and sharing wine; Fenris wondered again if they were friends. This certainly felt more intimate than friendship, although he had to admit that his perception of such things was skewed. He asked her about growing up in Ferelden, about her music, about how her life had changed since moving to Kirkwall. He was very interested to learn of her work in the Chantry.
"I go for the children, mostly; we play songs and games, I teach them to read, write, how to keep track of figures so maybe they can find work when they come of age." She said this dismissively, as though it wasn't one of the kindest, most generous things Fenris had ever heard of.
"When do you sleep?" He asked, only half joking.
"Five hours the third day of every week." She answered, seriously. Fenris choked on his wine.
"That's not enough for a person to live on. How is it that you don't collapse from exhaustion?"
"Magic." The corners of Hawke's mouth quirked into a smile.
"You're going to bed." His hands closed around her arms and he lifted her to her feet. He tried not to feel hurt when she brushed his hands away.
"I'm fine, yesterday was my sleep day."
"Does Carver know about this?" Fenris rolled his eyes and cursed in Tevinter when she didn't answer him. "You're going to sleep even if I have to hit you over the head and put you in that bed myself."
"Where are you going to sleep?"
"I usually sleep on the floor. I can't remember ever having a bed, and the mattress is too soft."
"You can't say something like that and honestly expect me to sleep there now?" Her voice was incredulous.
"Alright," Fenris said, with a heavy sigh. "You wait here while I found something to club you with."
Hawke's eyes widened at that and a startled giggle escaped her. Fenris was looking at her like he'd never seen her before. He was standing close enough that she could feel the heat rolling off his body. She did not move away this time. She felt something for this elf. She wasn't sure what it was or what to do about it, but she knew she liked being near him. He was easier to be around than the others, somehow. He had proven himself to her time and time again. She trusted Fenris.
"Compromise," she mused. "I'll lie down, but I can't promise to sleep. Resting my body will have to suffice."
"Why do you fight it so?"
"Can you blame me for not wanting to enter the Fade?"
Fenris reached out and threaded his long fingers through her hair, releasing it from its bun. My poor little mage, he thought to himself. Never to know peace, even in sleep. "I cannot protect you from the Fade, but I will watch over you this night, Selene Hawke." He pushed her gently into bed and covered her with a thick blanket. "Sleep." He commanded softly.
"You're not the boss of me." She grumbled, stifling a yawn. She snuggled deeper into the mattress and was sleeping in minutes.
Fenris stared down at her for a long time, Carver's words ringing in his ears. They likely died in the Blight. This time he welcomed the familiar burn of his lyrium tattoos. He pulled deeper and deeper from the mana branded into his skin, glowed brighter and brighter until he thought he might burn himself alive. It was not enough. A violent storm was brewing inside him and he didn't know if he could contain it. Someone had dared to touch his Hawke. He wanted to shake her awake and demand answers, but he didn't think Carver had intended to confirm anything. Still, he had learned a lot about Hawke this evening, and he would learn the truth of this as well.
He did not feel better. He paced the room several times, but he didn't get anywhere. His mind raced in similar circles. There was nothing he could do, yet he could not simply pretend to be ignorant. He burned for this crime to be punished. Savagely. All thought fled Fenris's mind, however, when he felt something change in the room. It was subtle, but something was missing. It was Hawke. She was still in bed, apparently asleep, but her mana was draining faster than he could believe. Hawke was suddenly sitting bolt upright, gasping for air. Her green eyes were wild and glazed, glaring but not seeing.
"I…WILL…NOT!" She sobbed. She fell back and her body jerked a couple of times before she was still.
Fenris was at her side in an instant, shaking her. One hand gripped her chin, the other fisted in her hair, forcing her to look at him. He was intensely relieved to see the brilliant green of her eyes staring back at him instead of the jet black of demonic possession. It was not enough to be sure.
"Fenris?" She still didn't seem to be entirely awake.
"Forgive me, Hawke. I must do this." He whispered, dropping his forehead against hers. He saw her eyes well with tears, then harden into resolve. When he felt her nod against him, he took a deep breath and punched her hard in the stomach. Hawke tried to double over, struggling to remain breathing, but Fenris's hand still gripped her hair. He brutally yanked her back, forcing her to meet his gaze again. His eyes were filled with compassion, his face was pale.
"Do it." Hawke rasped. She touched his tattoo where it curled around his neck.
He nodded bleakly as he thrust his hand into her chest, trying to be gentle as he caressed her heart. Hawke threw her head back and screamed until Fenris wondered how she had any breath left in her. She did not struggle though, and her eyes did not change. A demon would have defended itself. He released and allowed her to catch her breath, all the while murmuring heartfelt apologies for what he had done to her. When he tried to move away, she grabbed a fistful of his tunic.
"Please," she gasped. He could hear the tears in her voice. "If you can stand to be near me now, please don't leave."
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she was cradled against his chest and he was stroking her hair. "I do not expect you to forgive me for that, Hawke, but I would have you know that I did not want to do it."
Hawke was still gasping and trembling convulsively in his arms, but she managed a small chuckle. "Forgive you? I expected you to kill me. If I should ever lose the battle someone will have to…Would you really have done it?"
"Yes." He went very still when Hawke wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight. He gasped slightly when he felt her press her lips to his chest, just above his heart.
"Thank you, Fenris." She whispered with a deep, shuddering sigh. "I knew I could count on you."
She was thanking him? Fenris had seen many strange things in the short time he was able to remember, but the mage he was holding in his arms surpassed anything he could imagine. The fact that he was holding a mage was astounding enough. Two months ago, if you had told him he would be in this position he might have laughed, but it was more likely he would have removed your head from your body.
Hawke made room for Fenris to stretch out next to her in the bed, and then curled against him once again. He was warm and he smelled good, like lyrium and leather and herbal soap. He had wrapped one arm around her shoulders, holding her more tightly against him. His other hand held hers against his chest. She had never expected to lie with a man like this, never though to find comfort in any man's arms. She wondered briefly if this made them lovers. It felt like more than friendship to her. She could not imagine lying this way with Varric or Anders. She peeked up at him and was startled to find his forest green eyes staring back at her through the veil of his snow white hair.
"Did I hurt you very badly? Do you need healing?" He asked. His voice was filled with concern.
"I feel a little bruised, but it's not that bad. I could heal it but I don't think I will. It is good to keep reminders of the price of failure."
"Does this happen often? What does your family do?"
"Often enough. Carver and I have an arrangement. He is prepared to do what must be done."
"Are you certain he can? You are his sister."
"There is no one else."
There is me. He kept the thought to himself. Although she had thanked him earlier, he did not believe a promise to kill her would bring her comfort. He was more than content to hold her through the night. He sighed deeply and his eyes drifted closed.
oOo
When he opened them again pale morning light was playing outside his window. Hawke was still awake, looking none the worse for wear after the trying night before. Apparently, she was more accustomed to this sort of thing than he'd been willing to believe…Or she'd been through enough that last night wasn't so bad. Neither thought was comforting to him. They were silent as they readied themselves to meet Carver in Hightown, silent and filled with awkwardness and curiosity.
"Will you do something for me while I'm gone?" Hawke's voice was small and hesitant.
Fenris stared at her. She was wearing one of his tunics, black with billowing sleeves, and tucked into the tight leather pants she was wearing last night. Her auburn hair seemed to float around her, wild and unruly. No matter how nervous she sounded, she looked bold, strong, ready to clear the Deep Roads of any obstacle that might stand in her way. He resisted the urge to beg her to take him with her. "If it is within my power." He answered.
"Will you keep my guitar for me? I don't think it's worth much to anyone but me, but I don't trust Gamlen not to sell it. Please?"
"Of course. It will be here when you return."
Hawke's smile lit up the room. "What would I do without you?" She asked. Fenris could feel his heart swelling in his chest over her words.
oOo
It was still too early for most people to be up and about in Hightown. It was a quiet walk to meet Hawke's party. Carver waved them over; he was holding Hawke's staff, her pack was at his feet.
Fenris drew his sword when a blond and red blur streaked past him to tackle Hawke to the ground. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to what he was seeing.
"Bird!" The boy exclaimed, bouncing eagerly in Hawke's lap.
"Sandal?" Hawke's voice cracked on his name, and she wrapped her arms tightly around him as though she never meant to let him go. Fenris's heart skipped a beat when she laughed. Not the small chuckles she had gifted him with last night. Hawke was truly, joyfully, tearfully laughing as she rained kisses down on Sandal's face and hair. She whispered her thanks to him like a prayer and held his face in her hands, drinking in the sight of him with tender, sparkling eyes that Fenris had never seen look his way. For a moment, he felt the stab of jealousy, jagged and cruel, but thinking of his stoic little mage, he could only be happy that someone was able to touch her this way.
"Any trouble last night?" Carver asked. Fenris had been so engrossed with the scene before him that he hadn't even heard Selene's brother approach.
Fenris shook his head. "The Templars look, but they do not see."
"What about the disturbance outside the tavern?"
"Nothing more than a disturbance. Selene handled it in her usual manner. What is he doing here?" Fenris jerked his chin toward Anders.
"He says he wants to see her off." Carver said in disgusted tones. He had no more love for the mage than Fenris did.
"I do not care for the way he watches your sister."
"He said the same about you. There is no danger from him. He does not really see her." Carver scoffed. "Selene would never fall for his tricks. He is weak, a manipulator. He has no true strength."
"Why do you allow it?"
"Allow isn't a word a wise person uses with Selene. She thinks to show him another way to live. Him and that blood mage."
"It is as difficult to doubt her as it is to believe in them." Fenris muttered, earning a smile from Carver.
Hawke seemed to have gathered herself, and Varric called her and Carver over to have words with Bartrand. Anders strolled over to stand next to Fenris.
"You are a danger to her." Fenris growled. "I will not allow you to corrupt her."
"I care for Hawke." Anders insisted. "I understand her. What can you offer her besides your bitterness?"
"Hawke is not like you. I would see that it stays that way." Fenris glanced at Anders to see his skin was beginning to crack as Justice pushed himself forward. "Compose yourself, mage. People can see you." He said through clenched teeth.
After several deep, shuddering breaths Anders was himself again, but Hawke was looking at him from across the square. Her face was expressionless as ever, but her eyes betrayed her concern. When Bartrand had finished his rather graphic pep talk she made her way over to them, Carver, Aveline, and Varric fast on her heels.
"Are you alright? Has something happened?" Hawke asked. Anders felt as though her eyes were looking into him, picking through details and discarding them until she found the source of the disturbance. Anders thought it should be obvious.
"Everything is fine, sweetheart." Anders said smoothly, taking one of her hands with both of his. "And you? Are you alright? I would like to apologize again for my behavior last night. It was supposed to be a special evening for you and I ruined it. I hope you will come to see me when you return." He brought her hand to his lips before she could pull away.
"I would like that, Anders." Hawke said, polite as always. "Please try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone." She turned to Fenris, suddenly shy. "Thank you so much for last night." She whispered, staring at the ground.
Fenris tilted Hawke's chin up to meet his gaze. He brushed her hair aside. His hand lingered on her face, which he studied as though trying to memorize every detail. He slowly bent to brush his lips against her forehead. "Return to me safely, Selene." His voice was smooth and deep. Hawke blushed as she raised a hesitant hand to rest against his chest where it had lingered the night before. She nodded silently and slipped away from him to join the rest of the expedition to the Deep Roads. She did not look back.
"What was so special about last night that she thanked you?" Anders asked, eyeing the elf suspiciously.
Fenris smiled. "I don't know what it was to her, but it may have been the best night of my life." He left Anders gaping after him.
oOo
So, I know there was extra cheese on that one, but it was fun to write. If you're wondering about the songs Hawke played, here they are in the order she played them:
A Cloak of Elvenkind by Marcy Playground
Walking the Fade is actually called Heron Blue by Sun Kil Moon
Won't Back Down by Tom Petty