A/N: This story will be going mature next chapter, just a little heads up for those who are following it.
DG
Fall (part 4)
Fenris couldn't sleep.
He lay on his back near the fire, which had finally burnt down to mere embers. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the storm outside.
It was no less raging then the storm currently blazing in his thoughts…and his heart.
The elf pursed his lips in disgust, his green eyes narrowing in frustration.
He rolled on his side trying to get comfortable, but found nothing. He returned to his back and stared at the ceiling again, but again found nothing.
His thoughts whirled like a hurricane, his heart pounded in his chest, and his mouth felt as dry as a desert.
Kaffas, he thought.
Why can't I sleep?!
Outside, thunder rumbled again, the elf's ears twitched but he did not rise, he shifted slightly, trying to relax, but his loose fitting shirt kept getting pinned beneath him, pulling at him making him even more uncomfortable.
Fenris sighed.
He felt…warm…part of him wanted to simply rip off the shirt, maybe then he could get comfortable, maybe then…
"Mmmmph…"
He did not bother to look behind him; he knew what had made that sound. Bethany, sound asleep in his bed, murmuring softly in her sleep.
Fenris' ears twitched in frustration that was the main reason that he could not find his rest tonight. Not the girl's presence, oh no, but what had been said tonight, what she had said, and what he had felt.
He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. It was strange, before he had met Hawke and her companions, comfort had never really mattered to him. He had slept in many uncomfortable places, cramped, cold, wet, and dark places. He had spent so much time on the run that discomfort and pain had been old friends.
Now…things were different.
Now…everything had changed.
He found himself thinking back to the old slaver caves, and his final confrontation with Hadriana. He had given his master's apprentice his word, to spare her life if she told him what he wanted to know. She told him about his sister, that she had become a servant in some Magister's household…she…she was still alive, the one link that might aid him in reclaiming his old life.
Fenris frowned.
He had taken that information, and then…had done what he felt he had to do. He crushed the bitch's heart, for too long she had haunted his dreams and denied him his sleep. She had been a torment to him, now she was gone…
…And Hawke had been disappointed in him.
He could still feel her blues eyes on him, the look on her face, the look that questioned this one act of betrayal. She had not understood.
She did not know Hadriana. He had.
Had he let the witch go, she would only have returned again. She would not have wanted to risk her master's displeasure, Danarius would have been furious if she returned empty handed. She would have tried again, and again, and next time she might not have been so careless, next time, she might have succeeded, or hurt one or more of his companions.
Fenris would not have that.
He had gone to Hawke's estate after, to try and explain all this, but the abomination had been there, more than pleased with his shaming.
Anders, the Abomination, knew how he felt about Hawke, he was sure of it, and like all mages enjoyed seeing Fenris suffer. He took pleasure in the fact that the elf was in pain, and Hawke would not comfort him. He no doubt enjoyed that tonight he would take Hawke to her bed, and pleasure her in ways that would take all thought of Fenris from her mind.
That was the worst part, knowing that the mage was with her now. That he was laying with her, touching her, it filled him with a cold jealous rage that even he had trouble denying.
The markings on Fenris' skin flared, the white hot glow illuminating the room.
Quickly, he reigned in those emotions, the anger, the rage, he could do it. It was a part of him, and thus something he could control…usually.
Hadriana had been different; there was too much history between them.
He hated the abomination, but that hate could be denied, it could be denied because he would not leave Hawke alone to face the creature's tender mercies.
Fenris shook his head.
Hawke thought she had the mage under control, that love would leash his darker impulses, and keep him from turning into the monster Fenris knew him to be…
He sighed.
He feared that Hawke was wrong, and that one day she would learn just how wrong she was.
So he would stay. He would keep watch…
…Even if she would not acknowledge how he felt…
…He could at least do that for her.
Fenris rose silently, his eyes never going to the bed, respectfully he chose not to watch Hawke's little sister sleep. There was a small basin in the corner, dwarven made, all one had to do was touch the edge and it would fill with cold water.
He splashed some on his face. He hoped that the coldness might calm the heat burning within in him. He gripped the edge of the table, closing his eyes and breathing slowly, trying to push back the dark thoughts, the hate he was feeling.
Fenris blinked.
…Both the hate…and…the dark desire burning within his breast.
Again, Bethany moaned softly in the bed.
The elf shivered and licked his lips.
His eyes drifted towards the bed but stopped just short of it. His conscience warring with his instincts, desires he had thought dead or at least long buried.
He had never spoken his heart with Hawke, how could he even dare. Yet his time with her these last few years had drawn those feelings closer to the surface. He felt. He…he wanted…
It was not easy for him to deal with these emotions. For so long it had been easy, anger and survival in equal measure, any passion he felt was reserved for the hunters chasing him, passion that, up to this point, had always resulted in their deaths.
This…this was something much different.
Bethany's words as they dined by the fire haunted him.
My sister is not always correct.
Good and evil are not easily quantified.
I love my sister…
…but she is not always correct.
Those words had awakened something in him. He felt it in the core of his being. This was not like what he felt for Hawke; it was different, but no less intense.
Acceptance.
It was a rare thing to find. Hawke had welcomed him into her company but he doubted sometimes if she truly understood what he was…
The lyrium had burned away everything he had once been. Whoever that elf was…was lost. Even if he found his sister, even if Hadriana had not lied…
What kind of life would he find waiting for him?
Who would ever accept him like this?
Who would ever see him more than a simple slave?
Danarius' little wolf.
The mere thought made him scowl.
The fog warriors who had found him in Seheron had welcomed him. They were men and women of strength and fought for their freedom, they did not care what he had been; only what he could offer their group.
When Danarius ordered them dead, he could not stop himself, not then, but their end had finally woke him up, allowing him to see himself for what he truly was for the first time. It had allowed him to see Danarius for who he was for the first time.
Not the Master, but a man, a cruel ruthless man who did not deserve Fenris' worship or loyalty.
He had run that day, and had not stopped running since. Even staying here in Kirkwall, he was trying to outrun the past. No present, no future, just moving, no plan for what came next.
Hawke had offered him a place at her side, and he had welcomed that. He was grateful for her guidance, it kept him centered, but it did nothing to prepare him for what came next, what kind of life could he have, if Danarius died tomorrow, what kind of world would he find himself in.
He…he did not know.
He thought he might have something with Hawke, she was both strong and beautiful, but sadly the abomination had beaten him to it. Anders could be charming, and Hawke welcomed his easy humor, and even the cause he fought for, even if she did not understand truly what having free mages in this world meant.
Fenris was outmatched, he could not speak with Hawke, draw her in with words. He was angry, sullen, and as Varric had said so many times…broody. He did not like to think of himself that way, but was aware that many saw him as such.
For a while he had tried to change, he had gone to Bethany to help him with that. Who knew Hawke better than her sister? She could help him find a way to get through Hawke's armor, to reach the heart underneath. She…
He let out another shuddering breath.
Before the deep roads, she had tried. He had tried to be the man that the girl described, it was not easy, but it was worth the attempt. After the deep roads, he had lost her counsel, and slipped back into old habits, without the girl to guide him, he had lost his way again.
Was it any surprise that Hawke ended up sharing her bed with the abomination?
He did not blame Bethany. He never had. She had been…useful in his pursuits. She had been far more than the viper he saw that first day outside Danarius' estate.
Time had made him…reconsider his first impression of her.
She had been kind. She had answered his questions about Hawke without a single thought of reward. She had even endeavored to make him smile. Hawke did it with her witty responses, but Bethany could do it with a simple shy glance. Innocent, perhaps, but it contained the promise of something more.
Still Fenris' heart pounded.
Seeing her tonight, looking so wet and tragic, it had filled him with a concern he had never thought possible. When they sat by the fire, often in silence, they seemed to be communicating without saying a word.
She did not pass judgment. She accepted his reasoning for dealing with Hadriana. She understood his anger and saw it was pointless to debate with him on it.
His elven ears twitched.
She accepted him, and in doing so, he accepted her. Gone was the shy smiling girl that he had met almost three years ago now.
In her place, was a strong, yet complicated young woman.
That fact…did not scare him.
He looked upon the bed then, truly looked upon it. The girl lay on stomach, the sheets having mostly fallen away, barely covering her waist and hips. In the low light of the dying fire, pale skin glowed soft orange, the gentle curve of her back only interrupted by the barest covering of a silken sheet.
The girl buried her head in the pillow, griping it firmly as she murmured softly against it, her face all but hidden by the long cascade of raven colored locks.
A shiver ran down Fenris' spine.
What was he going to do now?
He swallowed hard, and stepped away from the basin, he realized he should return to his place by the fire, but found that he no longer wanted to.
He drifted closer to the bed, his eyes never leaving the girl's sleeping form. She cooed softly as he grew closer, shifting a leg, revealing even more creamy flesh.
Stop right now!
He heard that warning voice in his head.
She is Hawke's little sister! You cannot…!
He acknowledged that voice, recognized it as the voice of wisdom.
Yet, again…he chose to ignore it.
His ears lowered in frustration.
He was tired of pretending that he felt nothing.
He was tired of acting like he did not care.
He had promised to watch over her, to give her a place that she could feel safe.
He was tired of acting like that was a small thing.
He was tired of it all.
Fenris stood over the bed, watching her sleep, the gentle sound of her breathing, the rise and fall of the gentle curve of her back.
He sat down quietly beside her, looking upon this beautiful young woman. Up close he could see the scars. Old wounds left from her new life, her fights with the darkspawn.
Scratches from what might have been blades or claws, a particularly nasty one on her right shoulder; it looked like some wicked trap had shut tight upon the flesh there. He face still remained hidden by the pillow and her hair, which was probably the only reason he had mustered the courage to get this close…
His heart hammered against his chest.
He raised his hand, the fingers shook, not with fear but with nervous anticipation. They drifted just above the curve of her back, that long pale line running down to the curve of her hips.
"Mmmm," she sighed.
Fenris licked his lips.
Despite the coldness of the rain, the small room had become quite warm. A single bead of sweat ran down the beautiful warden's back. His finger moved above it, not quite touching her, but so close, oh so very close.
He sighed nervously.
What would it be like to touch her, was that skin as soft as the fur she had worn tonight, and if he did…?
Would he be able to stop himself?
Outside, the storm was finally passing, but here…in this room.
It was finally reaching its crescendo.
Fenris closed his hand, making a tight fist; he shook his head, trying to will away the heat burning through him.
Wrong, he thought.
This is so wrong.
He sighed and started to rise. This had been foolish, he was foolish…he…he was…
"Don't go."
The words were soft, barely able to be heard, but they stopped him dead in his tracks, stopped him like a wall of pure dragon bone.
He looked back.
Bethany was watching him from beneath heavy lidded eyes, eyes that were the color of warm honey.
Eyes darkening with desire.
He froze, pinned in place by that gaze, all conscious thought had faded.
She sat up in bed, her long black hair moving over her breast, shielding them from his view.
Fenris tried not to look.
He swallowed hard again.
They watched each other closely for a moment, silently watching across a chasm of fear and doubt.
In the end, it was the warden who made the first move, not surprising given her familiarity of walking into darkness and fear.
She gave him that shy smile he remembered from so long ago.
That smile that reminded him that this…was her…
This was Bethany Hawke.
She lightly patted the mattress next to her.
"Please," she cooed in a husky voice, "Don't go."
Fenris turned, he moved softly to her side, sitting down on the bed…he…he…
He stared into those brown eyes, drowning in their depth.
He…he had nothing to say.
The storm had finally come.
A/N: Went to the edge this chapter, next…well I think you can guess the rest. "Chuckles"
DG