Chapter 37 – act two begins
A huge thanks to my beta, LostSpace for all her help with these chapters. If it wasn't for her I'd still have writers block and these chapters wouldn't be here right now!
A huge thanks for your reviews, I don't get much time to reply to them but you guys are awesome! I love you all! Thanks for reading/favourites/follows as well!
So, I'm going to have Fenris and Hawke together pretty soon! The tensions between them are going to rise!
The storm had raged on for nearly two months since they had come back from the Deep Roads and still he had not seen even a glimpse of Hawke since she had abandoned them.
For all he tried, he could not blame her. When he, the dwarf and the abomination had told Hawke's mother of what had happened she flew into a grief stricken rage, sobbing into the mouldy chair by the fire and telling them to be gone. Leandra Hawke blamed her daughter for the deaths of both her children it seemed, -even though Carver's was death was uncertain- Leandra had screamed that it was her eldest daughter's fault. Fenris had joined them to tell the blood mage also, and once again had to watch the grief of another woman flinging herself around the dwarf whilst she cried for her new and lost love. Fenris watched these women sob and flounder about and admired Hawke for her way of coping, even if it was ultimately abandoning them. And yet he wondered, he wondered what Hawke would become now that she didn't have Carver to anchor her. He flinched at the memory of her changing into a great white wolf. The way she had used such powerful magic without a problem unnerved him but strangely not as much as he had thought it would.
He rolled over on his musty bed and sat up, viewing the rain as he thought about Hawke.
And yet there had been signs of her being nearby. A week after Hawke's disappearance the blood mage had come into the Hanged Man, thanking Varric for the bangle he had left on her doorstep but rejecting it at the memory of the younger Hawke. Varric furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and Fenris knew it was not him who had left the expensive bangle that was from the Hightown market.
They did not see each other as often, without Hawke. Fenris still met the dwarf in the Hanged Man once a week, but busied himself looking for work. He wondered what he would do now if Danarius came for him, without Hawke's protection or companionship. It felt like there was a part of him missing, some small part with a cool demeanour and bright green eyes.
He felt like he was in a dream as he readied himself for his evening with the dwarf. It was like the last part of Hawke was still lingering, meeting with the dwarf every week. And even though he knew it was pointless, he held onto it. He hoped she would come back.
He walked through the darkness of Hightown, his hand twitching for the hilt of his sword at most signs of movement. It was getting darker quicker now, and the thugs and bandits that roamed Kirkwall took it to their advantage. He walked quickly down the alleyways, hoping the shortcuts would help him avoid a fight.
The clouds thundered and spat rain at the stone floors and Fenris felt like he had never witnessed sunshine. He found that the mood was simply poetic to how he felt. He could see it in all of Hawke's misfits when they came to see Varric, their drinks going down quickly and their words each week becoming less. Without Hawke, the abomination irritated him more often, insulting him at every opportunity. It was the abomination and his demon that still stalked the Wounded Coast at night looking for Hawke.
Hawke did not want to be found, and she would not be found until her desires changed.
"Well, what do we have here boys? A knife ear!" a rough voice said from the darkness, causing Fenris to shoot out of his thoughts. He looked up as the bandits stalked out of the shadows, eyeing him with toothless grins.
It had become a common occurrence that without Hawke dominating the streets of Kirkwall others had come in for a chance to grab at the vacuum of power. He rolled his eyes at the thugs. Some fools will never learn.
He readied his sword for the onslaught of bandits, and began counting them as they appeared from the shadows. Once his count got to thirty he gritted his teeth and charged towards the small brigade of thugs, ready to bring the lyrium to life.
And then, out of the night, the white wolf he had so often dreamed about blurred past him, a streak of white charging towards the onslaught with feral growls greeting the bandits. The wolf snapped its jaw and began to lunge at the bandits who were frozen in shock at the sight of such a wild animal stalking the urban streets.
Fenris snapped out of shock quickly and joined in the fray, the wolf ducking underneath the greatsword with ease, snapping wherever his sword missed. Soon enough, the remaining bandits ran, screaming of witchcraft and demons down the alley from where they came. Fenris smiled at their exiting backs and turned his gaze to the white wolf that was now smeared in blood.
The wolf turned to leave and his stomach lurched at the sight of her leaving once again.
"Hawke, you need to come back. Your mother needs you, Varric needs you. Carver-" Fenris began, but at the mention of the Carver's name the wolf stopped and let out a harrowing whine to the night. He looked into her bright green eyes and could see the pain and anger rushing through the dilating pupils.
"You cannot hide forever Hawke. What do you propose you will do? Stay a wolf forever and watch on from a distance?" he said, and turned around, walking away from the alleyway. What could he say? I miss you too? I want the old days back where I would argue with you, where I could ponder the frustratingly complicated emotions that you created in me, you stupid woman? He watched the wolf flee the scene with disappointment.
No words would make Hawke come back, and even if they could he was a coward.
He avoided the Hanged Man, not wanting to speak with the dwarf or mention his encounter with the white wolf that was once Hawke. He turned back to his decrepit mansion that he was slowly beginning to call home. He would settle himself with a bottle of wine for the evening and see the dwarf tomorrow night instead.
Had she followed him into the alley? Was she watching over them all from a distance all this time? He did not understand why she did not just run, run away from the thing that caused her pain just like he had. Carver Hawke was a ghost in Kirkwall, haunting Hawke and all those who knew him. He felt guilty, guilty for not being good enough to protect Carver. In so many ways Carver was Hawke, just as she was him and he was too distracted by the woman in front of him to see what truly made her who she was. Fasta vass! He should have left months ago. He should have left the moment he knew his former master wasn't here.
As he entered his mansion, he felt someone else's presence immediately. He rushed to his bedroom quietly, enough to startle an intruder but he hoped it was her. Hawke would be the death of him, making him hope like he had for the past two months. Whenever he visited the dwarf he would watch the Hanged Man's door swing open, hoping that she would walk through the door with Carver in tow, mocking something or someone as she did.
She was standing by the window, watching the rain. The rain had raged on for months. It was common for the weather to become wild so close to the sea but a small part of him wondered if it was her doing. Her usual flawless white hair was no longer tied in its usual bun, but loose and knotted, the messy splay lingering down like an ivory waterfall. Her skin was still as pale as it had always been, but with a grey tinge to it now. She turned to face him with intense green eyes, but her grin mocked him.
"The food was getting rather lousy so I thought I'd see what humanity was like again," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I imagine eating raw kill with the organs still intact could be quite unpleasant, Hawke," he replied, easing back into their familiar banter.
"The hunt was satisfying enough," she replied, shutting the window to turn to face him. She sat down by the fire that was slowly burning out, and began to rekindle it. Fenris had half expected her to use magic since the performance on the Wounded Coast, but she did not.
He sat on the opposite chair, viewing her for a moment with unease. He felt almost excited by the sight of her, yet could find no words to express it. She finished rekindling the fire and took the other chair, facing him with a small look of amusement on her tired face.
"What is it, Fenris? Did you expect me to come to your mansion waving my hands and summoning demons? Floating along the night sky looking like an ethereal banshee?" she asked, looking at him with sad grin.
"I expected an explanation as to why one moment you were on the point of a breakdown to then turning yourself into a wild beast that took to the forest for two months, Hawke," he said with a sombre voice, trying to quell out the strain in his voice. He wanted to be angry at her disappearance but he had no right. No right to her at all.
"I think the question should be, why not? I'm sorry is this the moment where we have a heartfelt conversation? Because that's not going to happen. I did it because I did. I wanted to. You all just stood there, Anders and Varric pushing me into the role of responsibility once again and I thought fuck it, fuck them and fuck everything else. And then I decided I wanted to be a wolf, and it happened," she said, a small grin on her face.
"Is this going to be a common occurrence?" he asked genuinely.
"Are you scared I'm going to succumb to demons? Don't worry, I don't do that shit. I find bargaining with a demon really does make your complexion terrible. Mangled faces are not in fashion this year. Apparently though, according to Jean Luc, feathers are in. Do remind me to tell Anders the next I stop by," she cajoled, kicking her legs onto the arm of the chair and letting them dangle off its edge.
"That is not amusing Hawke. I do not worry about your use of magic. I trust you enough to know you are not the same as the kinds of mages I have experienced most of my life. I am worried of what will become of you if the abomination or the witch have their way. Would you speak with a demon if they asked it of you?" he asked, ignoring the wrinkling of her nose as he spat the words abomination and witch.
"No, not for anyone."
Her voice echoed in his mind and he knew it to be true. He still wondered how much it would take to break Hawke. She was a strong woman, alluring and with good combat experience. But would that all matter when it came to Danarius?
"I believe you. I am guessing that you being in human form implies that you are feeling better?" he asked, wishing he could hit himself for the way he had put across his words. It was as if he was asking her if she had gotten over some injury not that she had lost her brother.
"I hate to say it, but you were right for once Fenris," she said, the way his name rolled off her tongue sent shivers down his spine that he could not deny.
"I-ahem, I was?" he asked, not used to Hawke conceding to an argument so easily.
"Yeah, being a fucking wolf forever would have really been shitty," she countered, and he rewarded her with a snort. It was only in the past few months that he realised only Hawke could make him smile or attempt to laugh. Varric had tried but it wasn't the same.
"What did Carver mean, Hawke, when he said he wanted you to let go?" Fenris asked in a quiet voice.
Her face darkened at his question and she stared at the window for what seemed forever.
"Another time, maybe. I think the rain is going to stop soon and I think my mother needs an explanation and to murder me," she said, getting up from her chair and nodding a farewell. He turned around and watched her hips as she sashayed out of the room and down towards the front door. A grin painted his face without him being able to stop it, his lips turning up as the front door shut.
The torrential rain that had been pouring on his window for nearly two months now stopped suddenly. The absence of raindrops seemed deafening after all these weeks.
Even Varric could not exaggerate some of the things she did.