Hawkquisition Part 4: Warriors Such As
Chapter 5
Wherein the ship sails

A sea voyage to Seheron meant many days without a chance for Hawke's letters to reach Fenris, as Skyhold's ravens were not trained for offshore deliveries, yet still somehow she had managed to have one already waiting for him at Jader when the Inquisition party boarded their ship there. Fenris allowed himself a smile as he stood on deck hours later, reading her words over yet again while shielding the well-creased paper from the salt spray with his back to the railing.

Fenris, my brave hero,

Here's hoping this reaches the harbor before you, or it may seem a very strange slice out of time when you collect it on your way back to Skyhold. But I don't like to think about how far off that return voyage may be, so just don't you dare reach Jader before this raven!

I miss you so much already. How did I ever do this to myself (to us both!) before? Why did I force such a separation upon us when there was no need? I find myself looking up expecting to see your scowl whenever I do something especially foolish (not that I am doing anything foolish at all with you gone, please don't worry), or that little smile you try in vain to hide when you don't want to admit my joke was funny. I'm trying hard to be especially humorous right now, just to imagine the smiles I might coax from you if you were here.

Malcolm misses you too. He has expressed his disapproval of this separation by crawling under the bed and refusing to be removed from it. Until Merrill crawled under there with him and began tickling him. He did it again hours later only to peek out from under there with this impish grin like he was just waiting for her to find him. But then at dinner he cried when you were not there to make stern faces at him till he eats his mashed turnips. My sternest face is just not up to the task; faced with his tears I am hard-pressed to hold back my own. I am sure we both will never look upon turnips the same henceforth.

Be well, my heart. We are thinking of you every moment. I am confident that you'll deal quickly and victoriously with these Venatori and hurry back to us. And that seasickness will not trouble you on the voyage to Seheron. Just in case, I'm enclosing something to help if the boat's too fishy-smelling. I know how you hate the smell of fish. Smell this and think of me, not fish.

Wishing I were there or you were here,

Hawke

"You wrote her back, I hope?" Varric leaned against the railing at Fenris' elbow, determined to keep his promise to Hawke regarding her husband's correspondence.

"Of course," Fenris replied, running a thumb over the linen sachet Hawke had sent with her letter. The scent of violets lingered in the paper as well as in the sachet itself. Finally he tucked the letter back into his belt pouch, the sachet into Hawke's red ribbon on his wrist.

"Is that...violets?" Varric's nose crinkled as he caught the scent.

"Better than fish," Fenris explained gruffly, crossing his arms and leaning on the railing, closing his eyes as the sea breezes stirred his hair and drew just a hint of violets from the ribbon to his nose.

"Ha! Better hope it holds out, then. I foresee all too many fish in our future."

"You're not helping."

Varric sighed and pushed himself away from the railing. "Suit yourself. I'll just leave you to your brooding, then." When the elf failed to immediately retort that he was not brooding, Varric looked back over his shoulder and smiled to see the faraway look on Fenris' face as he gazed back towards the mainland.

Meanwhile, far, far inland, Hawke shifted slightly before her arm could go to sleep under the soundly snoozing child on her lap, and read over the reply the raven had brought.

Hawke,

No matter how strongly the smell of fish should assail my nostrils, I would be thinking only of you.

Nevertheless, the violets do help and I thank you deeply.

It is a relief knowing that you are safe with Malcolm. That...is somewhat of a surprise, if you can believe it, that this should be a relief to me. I would sooner have you with me, even in danger, knowing that you are a most capable woman when faced with perils, and I am accustomed to facing them at your side. The dwarf and the Inquisitor are good men and trustworthy comrades, but there is an emptiness here where you belong. And yet I am glad to think of you safe and far from peril, this time. Perhaps I understand now why you went to Skyhold alone. I am sorry I was so angry then. Please, when you read those old letters, bear that in mind. And please, I ask again, don't read them all at once. We depart as soon as this letter is sent, and I cannot write again for many days. We are safe and well for now. Please continue to think of us as such.

Yours,

Fenris

Hawke set the brief note aside on a table with a sigh and picked up the other packet of letters. Naturally, she had already read through the whole stack, all in one sitting, though she had tried at first to pace herself and save some for later. In the end, she had reasoned that it was better to devour them all at once, bingeing upon all their sadness and longing and rage and blame, and to let the weight of all that tear her up until she simply sat over them and had a good cry, while Malcolm clung to her knee anxiously repeating "Da, Da, Da?" which only made her cry the more.

It was a purging sort of cry, though, and now that it was over, she could savor the letters again, one at a time, feeling the weight of Fenris' long-ago anger at her absence less keenly now, through the veil of time passed. She had wept for the sum of his sorrows in all these letters, for how she had hurt him by leaving without saying goodbye. Now she could stoically suffer the pinpricks of his hurt in each letter individually, without it overshadowing the sweeter things he had written. He had missed her as she missed him now. He had, in his fear for what was to become of her without him, recorded the more endearing parts of his feelings for her too. No absence could erase that he had once written, Hawke, I bought apples today. I thought of sending some to Skyhold for you, but I suppose they have apples there already. I'm saving you some though. Come home soon. Apples don't keep forever, you know. She smiled and wondered briefly if there were apples in Seheron, and how she would go about sending him some if there were not. Charter had been picky enough about the violet sachet, making Hawke empty half the dried petals from it before she declared it light enough to enclose with the letter sent to Jader. Obviously apples would be beyond the capacity of ravens to carry.

She could, at least, write of apples. And of whatever else might make him smile when the raven reached him. It was days yet till their ship would reach port in Seheron, but Hawke balanced the sleeping child on one knee so she could lean over the small table with her free hand and begin writing today's letter.

Sometime later, after a voyage so uneventful that Fenris was relieved to lose count of the days, the Inquisition arrived at Seheron. Varric, when not irascible with seasickness, had plied them with tales of his last voyage to Seheron and of the Qunari who nearly sank Isabela's ship, took them all prisoner, and then finally entered into an alliance with them when their unlikely passenger, King Alistair, somehow talked the Arishok (who naturally turned out to be an old friend of his) into it. Fenris assumed that, as usual for Varric, the tale was half invention, but he was relieved nonetheless when they saw no sign of Qunari dreadnoughts along the way.

Avoiding the coastal cities of Seheron and Alam, with their occupying forces both of Qunari and Imperial soldiers, they anchored in a cove off the Boeric Ocean. Harding and her team of scouts took the first rowboats over to shore, soon sending up a series of signal flares.

"All's well," reported Thayer, watching the first signal. "They've encountered no opposition and are establishing camp."

A few minutes later, a second pattern of lights rose into the air from the arcane device Dagna had sent with the scouts for this purpose. "And now?" Fenris asked, glancing at the Inquisitor, who was smiling as he read the signals.

"Our contact has found them and awaits us in the camp. Looks like we're up next, gentlemen." Thayer waved to the sailors now returning the rowboats to the ship, and within minutes Fenris and Varric found themselves in one small boat with the Inquisitor, approaching the shore of Seheron.