Chiaroscuro

During the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition, Hawke has been called upon to assist the Inquisition in the fight against Corypheus. As a result, he has been lost to the Fade. But as Varric drafts his letter of condolence to Fenris back in Kirkwall, he has no idea that the story is not destined to end here. As Fate would have it, there is someone who might a way to get him back…

Part 4 of "The White Hart" series.

Letters to Fenris

The letter shuddered in his hand. Trembling, before it fell; drifting as a brittle leaf might, down to the floor.

Fenris, it began. To be the one to tell you this is both my duty, as your friend, and my burden, as one who has loved you both. Hawke was lost to us today. He faced Corypheus alone, in a battle in the Fade, in order to save a great many lives that otherwise would have been forfeit. I am deeply sorry to tell you; he did not return. His sacrifice...

He had stopped reading at that point. Slow and painful as it still was for Fenris to get through Varric's overly flowery prose, it wasn't his reading comprehension that had halted him here. He did not return. Hawke was lost. How could that even be possible? He had seen Hawke just a fortnight ago. They had stood together in their shared bedroom, arguing over whether or not the mage was justified in investigating this newly founded Inquisition in the north. He'd listened as his lover made his case for meeting up with Varric, having a discussion or two about archdemons and such with the elven Inquisitor (something Lavellan, wasn't it?), and then coming home. A few weeks at the most, he'd said. Nothing to worry about. He'd be back before anyone knew it.

So he couldn't be gone. How could he be gone?

It was as though ink and parchment had hollowed out his soul. Had struck a death-blow from which there would be no recovery. It would have been kinder for Varric to simply poison the pages and finish him off right then rather than to leave him forever bleeding out from cuts made by words. Blood would have been better anyway, and not the water that was seeping into his collar. As it was, Fenris had only wept openly twice in his life. The first time that he could recall being the day Danarius had finally been defeated and the crushing weight of enslavement lifted from his life. The second being now.

The pain was like nothing else; not even comparable to the ritual that had given him his lyrium markings. Rather than searing his skin outwardly, it came from deep inside of him; twisting his insides until harsh, wrenching, sobs were rung out of him. He all but collapsed back into the chair.

He should never have let Hawke go alone. He should have been there.

But he wasn't. And Hawke was dead.

Now, for the second time in all his years, Fenris sat by the hearth in a desolate mansion in Kirkwall with nowhere else to go and not a soul to look in on him. He felt such rage, but didn't dare risk breaking anything in their home. What sacrilege that would be. He struggled with grief, but for a time could only aimlessly wander from room to room. He walked to the edge of their bed over and over again, but couldn't bring himself to lay down in it. If the bedsheets still smelled like him, he would never get up again.

The last night they had been together, before Hawke had set off for the Inquisitorial fortress at Skyhold, they'd lain there entwined, with the soft glow of the hearth at their backs; talking about the future. Hawke had absently touched him; stroking his fingertips along Fenris' arm and up onto the ridge of his ear as the mage was in the habit of doing when relaxed.

"I'm thinking about starting a Guild Council." Hawke had said. "Without a Viscount, Kirkwall is going to continue having troubles reconciling the trade networks with Ferelden. I might even be able to convince Varric to go in on it with me. Aveline too maybe."

"Hm." He'd responded. Hawke was never idle for very long and it didn't surprise Fenris in the least that he was already thinking about his next project; the next big idea.

"I'll talk to Varric about it while I'm up there."

"Hawke," Fenris had whispered then. "I should accompany you. Varric's letter troubled you. You might need my help."

"I'll be fine, Fen." His lover had repeated. "This is more of a consultation kind of thing. I'm not looking for a fight. Besides, you hate snow and you can hold down the fort here while I'm gone."

While I'm gone.

Forever.

The hearth was cold. He'd neglected to start the evening fire earlier but at least he had not been plunged into complete darkness. It appeared that Orana, their elven housekeeper, had come through recently and lit the nighttime candles, if nothing else. She'd even left him a plate of warmed dinner; which, of course, he hadn't touched. Fresh tears slid down his face before he could blink them away. He was hungry but couldn't eat. He couldn't even bring himself to break open the wine. Better for the emptiness to just consume him quickly.

Fenris awoke with a start. He must have fallen asleep in the living room chair. The fire was lit and roaring comfortably. The blanket from the lounge had been tucked around him. The room seemed…brighter. Almost cheerful. Was this a dream? Someone was humming but he couldn't see who; a lilting tune, almost like a lullaby. But with Fenris' current mood, it just sounded sad.

With a cantankerous growl, he threw the blanket off and stood up.

"Orana?" He called. He assumed it was her, anyway. She'd remained with Hawke, and the estate, ever since they'd freed her from Hadriana but she also had a habit of ghosting through the house at times like this. Things would appear and disappear, or be neatly put away and cleaned, without so much as a glimpse of her presence most of the time. It really did give the impression that the house was haunted. Pleasantly, helpfully, haunted.

"Orana?"

"It's very late. I sent her to bed."

He knew that voice. Genial. Temperate. He turned.

Mariner!

To Fenris' utter surprise, the young ashvani stood in gentle repose, his hands folded at his waist and regarding him in return from the low, orange, light of the hearth. But something else struck Fenris immediately. He hadn't seen the other elf in perhaps just over a year but Mariner looked…very different.

The chocolate-brown caravan coat seemed the same, with beautiful embroidery unfrayed and in good order, but what had once been the long, auburn, locks indicative of his Elusivir heritage were now oddly bled to white. True, Mariner had always had those wispy white strands at the ends but that had been only a few inches at the most. It was white as snow now to his shoulders with only a few streaks of brown and gold left at his crown and down to frame his face. His eyes were the same though, and they glittered with joy at seeing his friend again.

"Mariner?! What…what are you doing here?"

"I came as soon as I heard."

"Heard? What have you…Hawke. You know what happened to Hawke?"

Mariner paused at the sudden accusatory tone that erupted from Fenris' unsettled form.

"Not…as such. But, more or less." He replied.

Fenris stared at him for several moments, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to parse the strange response and even stranger presence. He finally came to some sort of conclusion.

"What do you know?"

Mariner sighed and motioned towards the divan. "May I?"

Fenris nodded and fell back into the chair as his erstwhile companion took a seat opposite him.

"Alright." The elder elf stated flatly. "I'm listening."

"I was near Skyhold. I saw him arrive last week."

"What were you doing at Skyhold?"

Mariner offered a wan, but distant, smile. "Someone there is looking for me."

"And…did they find you?"

"No. Not yet. But …he is patient."

Fenris couldn't help but glare at the other across the room. He hated cryptic conversations like this and he was in absolutely no mood for riddles and insinuations.

"Mariner." He said. "Tell me what happened to Hawke. How did…" He choked up rather suddenly and was forced to pause for several moments. "How did he die?"

But Mariner did not offer him comfort or condolence in that moment, as he was anticipating. Instead, he outright rotated the world on its axis. "Hawke isn't dead, Fenris."

"I…what?! Mariner, Varric was pretty clear. He said…"

"I know what the letter said. But Hawke isn't dead. That's why I've come all the way here."

Again, Fenris could do little more than stare at the other elf; his expression of shock and confusion slowly morphing into mourning and then from sorrow to the first glimmer of hope. His voice, however, came out as a barely strained whisper.

"Mariner, please don't do this. I can't…if you're not absolutely certain…"

"I'm sure, Fen. I know where he is. That's why I came to get you. I know the way but I don't think I can free him alone. Only you can do that, from what I see."

When had the world changed so much? When had such a fragile, young, ashvani become so strong, so undaunted and ethereal? When had he, Fenris, gone from being the protector, the elder, to the wavering novice? Who was this; sitting, calm and serene, in his living room?

"What happened to you?"

Mariner smiled; a gentle, genuine, expression that put Fenris inexplicably at ease. "A great many things. Most of which I don't really have the time to explain to you but I promise you, it's still me. I still have Bodkin too, if you can believe that, but I left him in the stables up north. I have the dagger you gave me; here in my pocket. I've even used it a few times in ways I think you'd be proud of. I still see the butterflies and they still follow me wherever I go. But…" His face darkened. "I've also begun to see the world differently. I have found memories; terrible, tragic, memories, hidden away in far secret places. Suffering and destruction, but also longing, and dreaming…and love. Like crystal shards buried in the corpse of a long-lost time, after everything shattered. And when I find them, they become a part of me: like I'm…sweeping broken glass from a dirt floor, only to just now see that it was actually once a beautiful stained-glass window filled with color and light."

Fenris was nonplussed.

"Is that…what happened?" He motioned vaguely towards Mariner's head.

The Elusivir laughed. "In a manner of speaking, I suppose yes. It appears to be a reaction to my contact with Unveiled places, and with the Fade. At this rate, I figure I'll have lost all semblance of my normal color within the next six months. Rather like you."

"The Fade didn't do this to me." Fenris remarked, splaying his lined fingers for emphasis. "The lyrium ritual did."

"Same difference."

Fenris sighed. "And…this is how you know…where Hawke is? Something about the Fade?"

"Hawke accompanied the Inquisitor and his commanders into the Fade to fight Corypheus. When they became trapped, he stayed behind to ensure that the others, the Inquisitor and the Grey Warden, could escape. What is more, I think he also did it because he's hot-headed and wanted to mete out a little revenge. He has a history with this particular creature, I think."

"And…you were there?"

Mariner chewed his lower lip indecisively but finally met Fenris' gaze. "I was."

"But," The ashvani continued. "He did not know it. Hawke did not see me, nor did the archdemon. For that reason, I have seen where they were and where they went. I know the way back."

Fenris narrowed his eyes incredulously. "You traveled into the Fade without assistance?"

Mariner could already see that this particular point of the conversation, though inevitable, was not going to go well. Fenris wasn't stupid and had already likely compared the story he was hearing with the reality that physically traveling into the Fade was impossible. Or, at least, as far as he knew it. Mariner, however, decided to simply opt for honesty.

"Yes."

"How?"

"Because I can."

It was the truth. Mariner had discovered the fact that he could pass through the Veil almost at will months ago and it suddenly explained so much of what had happened to him over the course of his uncanny life. In moments of fear and flight, he often even did so unwittingly; shifting from one side to the other almost as quickly as he took a step. Now, he'd begun to learn that he could also control this act of bridging. Perhaps the eruption of the Breach had something to do with it and maybe it didn't but right now, he was the only hope Hawke had of ever getting back to Fenris and to the life they'd only just begun to build.

"I didn't realize you were a mage." Fenris finally responded.

"I'm not." Mariner rejoined. "I'm not in the habit of manipulating the energies of the Fade in that way, in any case. Merely …passing through them."

Fenris still seemed unconvinced but he did not think Mariner was being deceptive nor coming to him with mal-intent.

"So." The ashvani prompted. "Will you go?"

Fenris rolled his eyes slightly. "As opposed to what? Stay here and wait for everything to rot and fall apart around me? Again? If you say Hawke is alive, then of course I am with you. How could I not be?"

"Ar aman shathe. (I am happy)" Mariner nodded. "But we should wait until it is light. The roads north are treacherous in the dark."

The Elusivir then stood up and began to wander curiously around the room, poking around between book pages or idly lifting vases as he went. Fenris watched him for several minutes, wondering whether or not he should ask Mariner if there was something specific he was looking for or if he should just wait and see what the younger elf eventually came up with.

"I hear it." He finally said. "But I don't see where you've put it."

Fenris cocked an eyebrow. "Put what?"

"The crystal I sent you. It's here somewhere."

"The Winternight ornament?" Fenris asked. "What do you need that for?"

Ironically, many of Hawke's Winternight decorations were actually still in place; some haphazardly dangling from the lintel and others laying in small piles on the end table. Winternight had passed almost six months prior but to Fenris' amusement, he had watched as Hawke had casually begun to incorporate some of them into the usual décor of the house. Dried evergreen sprigs and herbal garlands still perfumed the estate with their fragrant memories and a few of the tree candles remained perched on tables and over the hearth for a little cozy ambiance when the moment called for it.

"I don't need it." Again, Mariner replied cryptically, though he continued to rummage through the living room in an amiable way.

Finally, after overturning a stack of books behind the divan he made an affirmative exclamation. Holding up the thin crystal on its satin ribbon, he smiled at Fenris. "Here it is!" He then approached the other elf, still seated as he was on the lounge chair.

"Give me your hand."

Fenris stared at him a moment but then complied without much hesitation; raising his right arm into the other elf's waiting hands. But when Mariner began to deftly undo the red cloth tied around his wrist, he balked and snapped his wrist upwards and out of his grip with a scowl.

"I'm not removing it, Fen." Mariner cajoled. "I'm only retying the back of it to hold the shard."

"What for?" Fenris demanded.

Mariner sighed. "You're going to need it."

The concerned silence drew out between them.

"Trust me."

Three days later on the road to Skyhold, Fenris couldn't help but worry his fingers at the small crystal wrapped in cloth over the cuff of his gauntlet. It saved him, however, from worrying at the letter still folded in his pocket.

…has ensured that the fight against the forces of death and destruction will not end here. Hawke's death will not be vain. But I can only imagine that this comes at no comfort to you, Fenris. No doubt, you will hate me, hate the Inquisition, and hate everyone who could not save him. But I assure you, not nearly as much as I will forever hate myself. We tried. We failed.

I am so sorry.

Varric

This was a fool's errand. Surely, it must be. Though the faintest hope still lingered in Fenris' chest that what Mariner spoke was true, he couldn't help but feel that all this was little more than a distraction to get him through the worst parts of grieving. Hawke was dead. Gone. Irretrievable. And no amount of fanciful story-telling about Fade Walking or Veil magic or Elusivir tricks could change that. This was false hope. A compassionate lie.

He glanced over at Mariner, who was jaunting up along the path rather cheerfully; virtually in his element traveling along the high roads and into the mountain foothills. They'd conversed little in the past few days; opting more for companionable silence as Fenris tried to work out whether or not he thought any of this was worth the effort. But, if he was being completely honest with himself, he did enjoy the company and having something to do, even if it was ultimately futile, and it felt better than being sequestered alone in an empty house. Unfortunately, then, to his relative disappointment, Mariner suddenly spoke up.

"Fen? How did you meet Hawke?"

"What?"

"Meet Hawke. I'm just curious, really. How did you and Hawke end up together?"

"You mean since we seem so completely at odds?"

The ashvani laughed. "I didn't mean it like that. I was just hoping you'd tell me more about your memories of him."

It was a weird way to phrase his question but Fenris didn't point it out.

"We…met in Kirkwall." He started. "But I've told you this before."

"Tell me again."

Fenris sighed but trudged along. "My old master was pursuing me and, when I had the money, I hired a few companies to help me ward off the hunters he set on my trail. Hawke was one of them."

"Hmm." Mariner tilted his head to let the breeze blow an errant lock of hair off of his face. "And from there you…"

Fenris chuckled. "No. Nothing like that. We became friends first; over time anyway. He would come to the old mansion I was living in at the time and we would chat, or play cards, or whatever. I didn't realize he was…" He coughed. "…interested in me until later."

Mariner happily egged him on. "How so?"

"Hawke is just…like that." Fenris said, shaking his head. "I mean, he's flirtatious. Charismatic. People just like him. It just happens that way wherever he goes. So, I didn't really think anything of it when he was like that around me. I figured it was his personality."

"But?"

The elder elf growled lightly to express his discomfort with the current line of questioning but Mariner was not to be dissuaded. He tried a different angle.

"How did you know it wasn't just his personality?"

Fenris chuffed. "He made a pass at me."

Mariner snorted in response. Fenris was always so utterly, and amusingly, direct in the ways he spoke about certain things. "And?"

"And nothing. I turned him down."

Mariner actually paused at that; stopping in the middle of the road to stare across the short distance at Fenris as he made his way up from behind. "You…turned him down?!"

"Of course I turned him down. Crazy apostate mage hitting on an elf on the run from a Tevinter magister in the middle of an uprising. Terrible idea."

Mariner actually sputtered a little. "But…how then…wait…I don't…"

Fenris smirked but as he walked past the confused Elusivir he made sure not to let the other see it. It didn't take long for Mariner to catch up with him, however. "But obviously that changed. Right?"

"Yes." Fenris replied. "It changed." Everything changed.

Mariner didn't respond but Fenris could tell he was unsatisfied. He turned his head and looked over at the other elf with a gentled expression. "Hawke was…faithful. True, he had a habit of encouraging untoward reactions from people and he basically flirted with almost everyone he ever met in some way or another but it didn't take me long to notice that he also went to bed alone every night and that there was never anyone else with him when I would see him in the mornings. Not for lack of offers, either. He just…liked being around people but when the moment actually came for anything more, he turned them away. Everyone except me."

Mariner took note of the wistful expression in Fenris' eyes as he continued. "There was one other, I suppose. Who was interested in Hawke in that way, I mean. Anders. I think that's probably why he never liked me that much. He wanted Hawke but Hawke wanted me."

Surreptitiously glancing down at the red cloth wrap still securely around Fenris' wrist, Mariner offered another bit of encouragement. "It must have upset him then when Hawke stayed with you."

Fenris chuckled low in his throat. "I'm sure it did. But to answer your question, I went to him. To Hawke. It was probably a bad idea, but I don't regret it. We had our ups and downs, figuring each other out and all that but I've never once doubted that Hawke was committed. Even in the worst times, he was always there with me. He never turned me away…even when I did it to him."

"He loves you."

"Yes."

The two elves fell back into companionable silence; the soft crunch of the gravel beneath their feet and the high, cold, wind their only accompaniment. Skyhold was less than two days away by this path and soon they would need to turn off the road and into the wilds to reach the place where Mariner intended to take them. But for now, the birds were singing again and the sun was shining down bright enough to warm them in the late afternoon hours. Two elves, worlds apart, intent on a common goal, but where one of them reminisced in sadness about a love lost to the vicious vagaries of despicable fate, the other tentatively reached out to touch the fold of a threadbare piece of cloth wrapped around Fenris' wrist. Perhaps the gesture was meant to comfort but what the warrior could not see was the faint blue glow of light that momentarily sparkled from between the threads in response to the contact.

He did, however, feel strangely less alone.