TW: Brief PTSD trigger from SA
Hawke waited for Fenris at the city gates while Mojo walked around sniffing the news of the dog world. It was nice to be back in her regular armour, with the purple and turquoise striped jumper and the simple obsidian breastplate. She felt ready and functional, and… not at all anxious about how this would go.
Fenris wanted to have the funeral on Sundermount. That was all he had. He couldn't think of anything else. He said there was nothing to bury and he found it pointless and then he got upset. So, she told him to go to the market and buy some small items that reminded him of each Fog Warrior. That they'd put them all in a funeral pyre. She told him to prepare a eulogy, which she was almost certain he hadn't. It was fine. He could ad-lib with a bit of help. Either way, he was late and Mojo was getting restless.
She thought about how much hurt there was inside him, and how it hurt her to see him like that. No wonder he couldn't move on. It was all too much for one person to bear. You could think you left it all behind in a faraway land, but that stayed with you. You carried it everywhere. He carried all of it with him everywhere. He just needed a little help, and he deserved to be happy. She thought she could make him happy. The way he grew into himself in the past few weeks was astounding.
She thought she loved him so much she was surely going to blurt it out one of these days. Another good reason to stop drinking. She didn't feel the need to drink so much. She didn't need the party eyes. Wonderful things were happening to her completely sober. She thought it was time to give her liver its much-needed retirement.
Maybe she should just tell him though. Why all the secrecy? She was just afraid. It was all… happening, and they were both changing, and it felt like it was going somewhere truly amazing. Somewhere closer to her dreams. The Hawke family continuing. The new serial where the daughter made a home away from home, had her own family, protected her own guiding principles and made her own inseparable friends. Better friends. Maker, she must have. She couldn't picture herself betrayed by her friends the way Esme did hers. One of her own, after everything they'd been through. It was so unreal. Leandra never got over it. Never forgave. Neither did Hawke, neither did Carver. Holly and Malcolm were gone and it was all Esme's fault. Devon was taken and it was all because of her. It all unravelled into a horror story, and she wasn't having any more of that.
She thought she had already made that mistake herself. She was betrayed by her own too. By her so-called husband, her childhood friend. She wasn't going to have any more of that either. She accepted and overlooked too much, and the worst part was her father was right about Andrei.
She thought she had surpassed her father's wisdom. That he was too old school, too close-minded. In some ways, he was. He didn't trust her with her magic, he wasn't too happy about Dreamwalk Village, he could barely accept her atheism and let's not even remember his reaction when Carver told him she was a 'lesbo slut'. But he wasn't wrong about love. Not about family. Not about loyalty, honesty, generosity. He was right about Andrei. After they got married, he showed his true colours. And Malcolm still supported her bad decision. She felt like a fool.
But it was supposed to be that way, right? How could she learn if she wasn't allowed to make the mistakes? To forgive herself, to know better.
She sighed. She was twenty-eight now. She thought she learned some good lessons in her twenties, some more painful than others. She surpassed her father, even. She made money and was living the good life now, right in the middle of Templar City. If it still felt unreal, well, who could blame her?
Through the myriad of faces she saw Fenris's grumpy white head. She'd divorced herself from trying to control her reactions with him, at least with her face. It could smile all the live long day.
He was a good man. He just wasn't given a chance to be one. Didn't give himself a chance, either.
As he approached, his eyes seemed to light up. "Hey, you," Fenris said, kissing her.
"Hey, you," Hawke said, smiling. "Do you have all you need?"
For a moment, Fenris didn't let go of her face. He smiled a little, his hair ruffled by the wind. "Yes," he said, then looked over her. "You have the shield then."
She pointed at her wooden Grey Warden shield she once stole from Stroud. He didn't even care, which defeated the whole point. "Yep. Finally sees the light of day, poor sod."
"We just have to stop by the Dalish camp. I want Ilen to put Mythal's symbol on it."
"Wait. A griffon and Mythal?"
"For Tova," he said. "She wasn't Dalish, but she thought of Mythal as the protector of Mother Earth. Of Mother Seheron."
"Ah, so that's why you needed a griffon."
"Seheron doesn't have a flag… But Tova and Marius wanted a griffon enveloped by leaves."
"That's so cool," Hawke said, thinking. "Mythal's the mommy of the gods, right?"
"Yes, the scary mommy," Fenris said, chuckling. "That suits her."
"Oh, by the way!" she said happily, looking in her pockets. She got out a navy clay bird with a multicoloured flower pattern on it. Its open beak made a hole. "You'll never guess where I found this!"
He frowned and took it. "A merula here?"
"I found it in Hubert's charity stock!" Hawke said, scoffing. "Can you believe no one wanted this?"
"Seeing how almost everyone from Seheron is in… Seheron," Fenris said, "I believe it." Then he frowned again, all confused. "Since when does Hubert donate to charity?"
"He donates stuff he has no luck selling to Chantry asylums and orphanages," Hawke said, pursing her lips and nodding. "Then he gets tax relief."
"What a philanthrope," Fenris said insincerely.
"But I think this merula doesn't work," Hawke said, taking it. "I put water into it so it sounds like a bird, but nothing happens. See?" She put her mouth over the bird's beak hole and kept blowing into it, but only a weak sound came out.
Fenris broke into laughter, his head falling down. "You're not supposed to make out with it, Hawke," he said, taking it away from her.
"Oh?" she said, scratching her head.
He turned the merula around and blew into its tail. Then the most beautiful bird sound came out.
"Oh, like blowing up its arse is better!" Hawke said, scoffing.
Fenris chuckled. Then his eyes fell halfway and he bit his lip, stepping in closer. "I hope you're better than that when the veins come out…"
Hawke couldn't even say 'woof'. She became a little dizzy.
"Thank you for the gift, ma adorae," Fenris said, kissing her forehead.
She still felt dizzy.
Noon, Dalish Camp
It kept raining and then stopping and then raining and then stopping. It was all very Fereldan for a day. Fenris seemed to honour it and threw a ball for Mojo the whole way there.
"Oh, it's… you," one of the Dalish sentinels said, looking sourly at Fenris.
Hawke stared awkwardly. "Looks like there's some tension here I don't know about."
"This flat ear disrespected all of us!" the other sentinel said irately.
"The flat ear," Fenris said, crossing his arms. "As if that's not disrespectful."
"Okay!" Hawke said, coming in between them. "Remember me? I was nice, right? Got rid of more than one of your… problems?"
"Rid us of this problem as soon as you can," the sentinel said, eyeing Fenris unhappily.
"Be nice, Ilen," Keeper Marethari said. "He's nice people. With… all sorts of opinions. Like you when you sit down for the night."
"We'll be very nice," Hawke said, taking Fenris by the shoulder gently. "Say, anything I can help with?"
The markings still hurt him, which made him sad. But he was growing used to her touch. It didn't make him fly into a horrible flashback, at least not in his shoulders. As for other places, it seemed if he himself allowed it, it wasn't so bad. But he was afraid of what might happen if he allowed more. It would hurt her to think she was hurting him. It would hurt him to think he was irreparably broken, and that he couldn't give her the world, because that's what she deserved. The whole world.
Master Ilen scoffed. "Sure. Kill an unkillable Varterral, why don't you?"
"A what?" Hawke said.
"A Varterral," the Keeper said. "A very fast, dangerous creature. I don't recommend going up the mountain."
"Tomorrow sound good?" she asked Fenris.
"Tomorrow morning maybe," he said. "I have plans with Donnic after."
"Pancakes and Diamondback. Of course," she said, pursing her lips in a smile.
"Why do you need Mythal on some human shield, anyway?" Master Ilen protested. "She's not your goddess!"
"She was someone's goddess," Fenris said. His voice softened. "Someone I cared for."
Ilen changed face. "You and a Dalish?"
"No. A free elf from Seheron, who believed," Fenris said. He became a little annoyed. "And may I add, people can have friends."
Ilen laughed. "You have friends?"
"Hey, I'm his friend!" Hawke said determinedly, pointing a thumb at herself. "He's a damn good friend!"
Fenris beamed inside. He was going to give her an extra orgasm just for that. What were they talking about again?
"A thoughtful gift," Marethari said, crossing her arms at the back.
"It is not a gift," Fenris said flatly.
"It's for a funeral," Hawke blurted.
"Hildegaard!" Fenris said curtly.
That unseated her. He never called her that. Unless she made him extra mad. She could kiss her other extras goodbye.
"Sorry…" Hawke said, face-palming.
"I'm sorry for your loss da'len," Marethari said.
Fenris pursed his lips and inhaled. "Thank you."
"Are you having it in Kirkwall?" Marethari asked.
"I am not honouring my friend in the City of Chains," Fenris said sternly. "Even if there is no body, she fought against Tevinter. She was free."
Tova would have crawled her way out of the Fade to strangle him, and he would have let her.
"We are in the Free Marches, though," Marethari said. "Are you having it here, on Sundermount?"
"Yes," Fenris said. Where ancient Tevinters and elves fought for centuries. "I… find it poetic."
"He's very poetic," Hawke said, pointing at him with a smile.
"Well, maybe we can help," Marethari said. "Do you know how to give Falon'Din's rites, da'len?"
"I do not wish to make it about elves," Fenris said. "It is a pyre for people of all races, who fought in Seheron for their freedom."
Tova didn't care who you believed in or what shape your ears were. She cared only for one thing—Mother Seheron. They were all her children.
"You're setting this fine shield on fire?" Ilen said irately, stopping his carving. "Like the shemlen barbarians?"
"It is my funeral," Fenris said flatly. "I will do it my way."
"Since it's a multicultural rite, might I suggest someone sings?" Marethari offered.
Fenris thought about it. "You know a good song?"
"The best," Marethari said, smiling a little.
"The best, you say," Fenris said, unimpressed. "Does it touch the soul?"
"How else can a song be the best?" Marethari said, scoffing.
"Why would you want to help?" Fenris said. "It is not for the Dalish."
"We are all Elvhen, da'len" Marethari said. Fenris and Ilen both scoffed. "While some may disagree, your friend fought against the Imperium. Even in that alone, she deserves honour."
"Maker, I love you," Hawke said cloyingly. "Can you adopt me, Keeper Marethari?"
While Fenris's eyes rolled to the back of his head, Marethari laughed warmly. "That depends, child. How much do you talk about politics?"
"Too much," Hawke said, sucking her lips.
Marethari groaned a little and touched her shoulder. "Not going to happen, child."
In the meantime, Fenris had decided, perhaps against his better judgement, to follow the Keeper's advice. It wasn't the same, but he saw a bit of Tova in Marethari. She wasn't as close-minded as the other Dalish and she was nice to outsiders, elves or otherwise. Plus, he looked up to Hawke, and Hawke looked up to the Keeper.
"Would you be singing?" Fenris asked her.
"Elgar'nan, no!" Marethari said in horror. "Navra has a wonderful voice. She will disappoint nothing and no one."
"Alright, bring your song," Fenris said. He looked at Ilen's table. "I will take the wooden horse."
"Aww, I'll take a horsie too for—" Hawke said, then thought about it. "M-me, myself and I," she drawled.
"It's a halla," Ilen said, annoyed.
Sunset, Sundermount
So, there they were, in the middle of nowhere, with more people than expected. They walked through the forest until Marethari stopped them.
"There," she said. "That is a perfect place for it."
"There is nothing special about it," Fenris said.
"Oh, but there is," Marethari said, revealing a device between the leaves and rocks. "It is a place that has seen too many battles."
"What is that?" Fenris asked.
"Something to heal the Veil," Marethari said. "If you make the pyre here, the artifact will draw strength from it."
"Like Seherans building churches around where the Veil is thin," Fenris said, thoughtful. "I understand."
Hawke watched him all this time, and he seemed to be fine. He was probably not fine at all, so she kept an eye on him. She helped him erect a big dead branch and stabilised it with rocks. Then he set the shield on top. She decorated it with leaves and flowers while Fenris went through his stuff.
There was a little Chantry sun for Aura, a teddy bear for Bear, a book of smutty poetry for Georgia, a little map of Thedas for Dima, and then Fenris struggled to get the ball out of Mojo's mouth. That was for Marius. It had hair on it now. It was all ready.
Hawke stepped in.
"Wait," Fenris said tensely. He picked up a rock and got out a blue tube of paint. He gave the rock a grumpy face and put it on the pyre next to the wooden halla. "It's for Faustus and Pashta. I know they were gone before, but…" He closed his eyes tightly. "I just spent a lot of time with them."
"I understand," Hawke said. "Did you prepare a speech?"
Fenris got a parchment out and stared at it as if it ate his whole family. There it was. He wasn't fine at all. "You read it," he said tensely, giving it to her.
"Alright…" Hawke said awkwardly. She took the paper and cleared her throat. "Uhh… May-ter Seheron… meh-ay… vee…tay?—"
"Other side, Hawke," Fenris said.
"Right," she said, reading. "What's this phrase?"
"Vitae benefaria," he said. "It means a good farewell."
Okay, she got this. Let the R's roll!
"Mother Seheron gave me life. Father Tevinter took it away," Hawke read. "Then one day, while I helped my captors disturb the eternal sleep of my ancestors, I was left behind. By sheer dumbluck, you found me and took me in. You didn't leave me behind. You gave me life again. You taught me what it is like to be free, and I was not ready for the test. You are my brothers and sisters, and I failed you. I will not fail you again. Vitae benefaria. I will carry you in my heart forever. We are Seheron."
Fenris's chest moved deeply as she spoke. He went to the shield and painted two blue vertical lines under Mythal's eyes.
"Ready?" Hawke said softly.
"Wait," Fenris said tensely.
Hesitantly, he went to his bag and got out his old armour.
"Whoa," Hawke said with owlish eyes. "A funeral for yourself?"
"In a manner of speaking," Fenris said darkly. He put the armour on the pyre and, even more hesitantly, he took the chest plate off his long black jumper.
He must have not planned to rid himself of the whole armour. But now, it seemed like it wasn't enough.
"Ready?" Hawke said, as he came back to her.
"Wait…" Fenris said, his head going down. He went to his bag.
Andraste, what now? Did he have a dilapidated mansion inside there too?
He got a red scarf out.
"Forgot someone?"
"Malcolm."
Hawke thought she'd misheard that. "That doesn't sound Tevinter."
"It is for your father," Fenris said, holding it out to her. "You owe him a goodbye, too."
Hawke ached at his words, and took the scarf. She never went to his funeral. Couldn't. But this was supposed to be all for him, and he still thought about her. She stared at it, then at Fenris, and she was filled with a strange, sad warmth. "Thanks, Fen Fen," she said softly.
"Would you like to say something?" Fenris said.
Hawke inhaled deeply and looked at the scarf.
"I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you, dad," she said, tears already leaking out. "You always taught me to think, and I didn't. I'm so sorry I ever thought you'd hurt her. You didn't deserve your fate. You deserved the world. Thank some Templars for thinking, like I didn't." She sighed heavily, putting the scarf on the pyre. Fenris took her hand. "Don't ever leave my heart, silly man. It'd be lonely without you."
"I am ready if you are," Fenris said softly.
Hawke nodded and willed the pyre aflame.
"Ar lasa mala revas, da'len," Keeper Marethari said. "You are free, child."
As the flames roared, Navra broke into the most beautiful sad song in the world. Her strong voice resounded through the forest. Fenris kept breathing unevenly. The ball, the bear, the sun, his armour, it was all burning and melting away.
"I got you," Hawke said, holding his hand tighter. She wiped away her tears, but it was futile.
But then it started raining again.
"Ah, fuck," Hawke said, and came nearer to strengthen the fire spell. "I bet you like magic now, don't you?" she said with a smirk.
But as she looked back, Fenris's eyes were two sad flames with tears running down his face.
"Oh, come here," Hawke said, affected. But she tripped on a rock and fell face-down. Fenris stepped back and started laughing, wiping away his tears. Then he helped her up. She dusted herself off and said, "Let's forget that happened."
They hugged a long tight hug, and she nodded in thanks to Marethari and Navra.
But then Fenris took her face, stared at her with a mix of heart-wrenching emotions, and he kissed her.
She opened one eye and saw the Dalish excuse themselves in silence and she waved at them awkwardly.
"What do you want to do when we get back?" Hawke asked as they walked hand in hand.
"Get very drunk," Fenris said. "But not at the Hanged Man."
"No," Hawke agreed.
"Let us go in a Hightown bar. I'm sure none in our group would be caught dead going inside."
It started raining again. Of course, it did.
"I really regret not bringing that Orlesian umbrella," Fenris said.
"Forget that," Hawke said, shrugging. "Being in the rain is fun."
"It's fun, is it?" Fenris said, grinning a little mockingly.
"Yeah!" Hawke said, spinning around. "Like a child!"
"Like a child," Fenris said monosyllabically.
Hawke's arms sank for a second. How could he understand when he never was one? Memories, no memories. Seheron's kids probably never got to have a childhood.
"Okay," Hawke said, her hair all wet now. "You're turning thirty. That's proper adult."
Fenris sighed, his wet bangs in his eyes. "I can't wait."
"Sounds to me like the perfect time to learn how to be a kid," Hawke said. She spun him around in the air. "Eh? How's that?"
"Dizzy and wet," Fenris said, chuckling.
He spun her around too and she laughed. "I am dizzy and wet… and a little thirsty," she said, letting the rain in her mouth.
"You're so crazy," Fenris said.
"I am crazy," Hawke said, taking him by the waist. She looked deeply into his eyes. "I'm fucking mad," she said, kissing him. "Got a problem with that?"
"Not at all," Fenris said. "I look so sane by comparison."
"Unacceptable!" Hawke said teasingly. She ran to the edge of a cliff and shouted at the top of her lungs, "PENIS!"
Mojo followed her and barked, "Penis!" in dog speak, possibly.
Fenris caught up and stood there like a statue.
"HAIRY NIPPLES!" Hawke shouted.
Fenris snickered and looked in the distance. He was silent for a while, then he shouted, "I AM DEPRESSED!"
"We were looking for 'droopy balls', but that works, too!" Hawke said, snickering. Then she shouted, "DROOPY BALLS!"
Fenris chuckled and bit his lip, looking back at the edge. "I HAVE A MASSIVE COCK!" he shouted.
"Hey now, that's just bragging!" Hawke complained, laughing.
"I have a lot to brag about," Fenris said nonchalantly.
Mojo barked happily next to him.
"See, he agrees with me," Fenris said.
"Boys," Hawke said, rolling her eyes. "BOYS ARE DUMB!" she shouted to the world.
"Hey now, that's just mean," Fenris said, laughing.
"Oh, little poor you with your big massive cock!" Hawke said mockingly.
Fenris took another step towards the edge and drew breath into his lungs. "MY GIRLFRIEND HAS MASSIVE BRAINS!" he shouted.
Hawke was this close to slapping him, but she held her belly and she could scarcely breathe.
"Does this mean I win?" Fenris said, amused.
"There's no winner or loser in this," Hawke said, drawing her breath. "But if there was a loser it'd be," she said and started shouting, "MY BOYFRIEND AND HIS FLACCID, WEAKARSE—whoa, whoa, WHOA!"
Like lightning, Fenris picked her up over his shoulder and took her away.
"I was gonna say coffee!" Hawke said, laughing and banging on him.
Evening, The Chantry
They dropped Mojo off, but before they went to the bar, Fenris wanted to go to the Chantry. Hawke said she'd come with him, which produced in him a dizzying frown.
"You?" Fenris said. "Aren't you going to… burst into flame or something?"
"Not really my form of political protest," Hawke said with a clownish grimace. "Shall we go inside?"
As they walked in, they ran into Petrice, who was taken aback.
"Serah Hawke," she said as if she was made out of incandescent dung beetles.
"Sister Petrice," Hawke said, contained.
"Mother Petrice," she said firmly, stopping on the stairs so she was still above them. "It seems we've both moved up in the world."
"Mhm, mhm, some of us aren't quite as talented at farting higher than their own arses, of course."
"Serah Hawke," Petrice said in offense. "This is the Maker's place of worship! Have some respect! Or have the Qunari re-educated you already?"
Hawke grunted.
"We have somewhere to be," Fenris said, dragging her away. "Good luck, Sister," he said.
"Mother," she said after them.
"Nice going on that Sister thing," Hawke whispered to him.
Fenris winked at her and went to light some candles.
"So…" she said, breathing out and clapping her hands in boredom. "What do I do?"
"You can light candles with me," he said, giving her one aflame.
"Alright," she said. "What side are we on?"
"The dead," he said, lighting more candles.
She lit up one, two, three… four candles. Daniel had already apologised to her in their letters. From the way he talked about his mother, it seemed he really didn't understand what was done to him at the time. She thought doing the candle thing would depress her, but she felt weirdly at peace.
"That's the living?" she said, pointing to another little altar. He nodded.
She went to it and lit up candles for everyone dear to her. She looked at Fenris and thought she should light two candles for him. He needed the extra help. She knew this wasn't over. He made the first step, or rather the second step, today. Time would tell how much his soul would heal. The night terrors would give her a clue.
"For our posse?" Fenris said, coming to her.
"And my brother," Hawke said. "And my mum," she said, shrugging uncomfortably. "Have you heard? She's polyamorous now."
Fenris raised an eyebrow. "Okay…"
"Yeah… I don't think she really understands what that word means…" Hawke said, lighting the last candle. "Basically, she's dating around."
"Oh dear," Fenris said. "There could be a Serah Amell coming in the house."
"Serah Amell can scratch his arse in my home all he wants. I'm still the woman of the house!" Hawke said, a little aggressively.
"Yes, adorae, you're very scary," Fenris said, petting her bangs.
"Thanks," she said, sighing.
"It must be hard for you to wrap your head around that," he said.
"Me? I'm fine," she said, looking at the candles. "We should all move on."
"I agree," he said, and lit one candle for the living.
"Who's that for?"
"You."
"Aww, thanks, Fen Fen," she said softly, kissing his cheek.
He lit another one.
"Who's that one for?"
"Aveline," Fenris said, smirking a little.
"I already did her."
"I know. But she really needs some divine help."
Evening, The Rooftop Rumpus Room
There was no more time nor energy for deciding on a bar. They just went in the first one they saw. This turned out to be a mistake. They were staring up a grandiose portrait of Knight-Commander Meredith as they sat down on the sofa.
"Well, that's… unsettling," Fenris drawled.
"She really belongs on a smaller canvas, doesn't she?" Hawke said, drinking.
"I suppose it makes sense, the bar being so close to the Chantry."
The truth was Hawke was very stressed with the Templar situation. Meredith kept sending Cullen her way to persuade her to drop the lawsuit against Templar brutality, and she wasn't having it. Then he started asking her for a private meeting with Meredith, which made her a little paranoid. Was she trying to pay her off? Intimidate her? The list did not go on. Hawke had done her homework enough to believe she had the upper hand, but Vannard presiding over the case threw her off. The next hearing was coming soon and she feared what might happen if she kept ignoring Meredith.
Moreover, she wasn't all that happy with the idea that her boyfriend had sympathies for the Knight-Commander. He might have changed his views over time, but he was still a pig lover at the end of the day. Maybe she should remind him they were not his friends.
"Do you go to the Chantry often?" Hawke said. "I didn't like the way they stared at you."
"Everyone stares at me."
"I know, but it was more than that. They stared at you as if you were an intruder."
"I know. It is, in part, why I don't go to chantries anymore."
"Anymore?"
"I used to go… on the run," he said, very thoughtful. "I'd go to church in a nameless village and sit at the back with a hood over my head. It comforted me to see families worshipping. It comforted me to go into abandoned churches and pray by myself."
"You felt your presence in the Maker's house was illegal."
"I did. It did not feel right to me."
"But you still went."
"I needed to. It was…" he said softly, "… all I had."
"Then w—"
"I tended not to feel things," Fenris continued pensively, which threw her off. "For a long time, I was good at it. Good at feeling absolutely nothing. Sometimes I didn't even have to try." He looked at her. "I just… didn't."
Hawke inhaled. "I noticed." She smiled bitterly. "Sometimes I'd look at you and ask myself, 'Is he a bit… dead… or… what?'"
"Astutely observed," he said, looking away. "But inside a chantry, it was different. I felt things. Good things. Sometimes bad things. It was worth the risk. Sometimes… sometimes it was better to feel bad for a little while, rather than feel nothing at all."
"But… what about the night terrors?" she said, confused.
That caught him off guard. He sighed heavily. "Yes, I suppose I had that. I've had them ever since my escape. They…" he drawled tensely. He closed his eyes. "They were very unsettling, and then…" He slowly shrugged. "Then nothing. I just felt nothing… until it all became unexpectedly, unforgettably loud."
"So, you had two reasons to go," she said, thinking. "But then, why haven't you gone here? Besides the stares."
Fenris closed his eyes. He shook his head. "I don't know. It was supposed to be a covert, intimate thing. No one knew me. No one saw me more than once. I stayed nowhere for long."
"But here, you stayed… so it became real."
"It became too real," he said. He became bitter. "It was so big and… the mansion was right next to it and I…" He closed his eyes, sighing. "I don't know."
"That makes sen—"
"And being with you made me feel things," Fenris continued, as if he reminisced of a crime. He looked down. "And for a time, I did not like it at all."
That gave her pause. He wanted to feel things, but he wanted to feel them on his terms. The fleeting stranger in small town churches, that gave him control over what he felt, when he felt it. He did not feel in control in Kirkwall. Did it all become too real?
"Did I… remind you of them?" Hawke said.
He swallowed. "Yes," he said softly.
"And I was a mage, on top of that."
"It was all too much."
So, he really was a mess and a half, all those years ago. At least it made sense now.
She really wanted to know about his night terrors. He'd told her in Val Chevin to remind her of the 'fog dream', whatever that meant. But then she thought better of it. Today wasn't the day.
She sighed heavily and crossed her elbows on the table. "I don't care for the Maker, Fenris. I don't know what he's up to—"
"No one does."
"And that's the problem," Hawke said, sucking her lips. "But I know what Andraste was about. The tragedy of your fate was exactly what she and Shartan fought to prevent. I think she'd forgive you, especially after the brave thing you did today." There it was, a little smile, finally. "And if she'd forgive you, the Maker would. He has to. Otherwise Andraste would be like—I'm not putting out tonight, Daddy!"
Finally, he laughed. "Aww," Fenris said, touching her face. "Look at you making up crap for me."
"You gotta admit, I'm at least sixty-eight percent right," she said cockily, showing herself off.
Three and a half ales later, they went on talking lighter things. But Hawke became very preoccupied with the dancer on stage.
"I'm sorry, is my story boring you or do her breasts have something better to say?" Fenris said in a bitchy voice.
"If I squint just right, I think I can see the hairs between her tits," Hawke said, very focused.
"I… don't know how to respond to that."
"Sorry," she said, looking at him again. "I know a girl's gotta eat, but it bothers me."
"If they hired a man to dance beside her, would it bother you less?"
"Bother me less? I'd be sticking some serious silver in their underpants!"
"No, you wouldn't."
"I'm sorry," Hawke said, chuckling. "Are you forbidding me or something?"
"I just think you're full of shit," Fenris said, smirking as he drank.
Well… that was true. She pursed her lips and inhaled mockingly. "Alright, Fen Fen. I won't salivate for the imaginary sex workers… for our relationship."
He nodded mockingly.
"Hey, where's your promise?" she teased.
"What promise?" he said, scoffing. He looked at the dancer, then looked back at his drink. "Nothing."
"I suppose you're not built that way," she said, smiling and biting her lip.
"Now that," he said, looking down at himself, then at her, smirking. "Keep that up."
"Oh, I can keep it up," she said flirtatiously.
Fenris gave her a grin and half, his canine slightly showing. But then there was a strange twitch to his eyebrows and he looked sad.
"What… just happened there?"
He sighed, looking down. He didn't speak for a while. She thought if he was going to start talking about his penis or something she needed a stronger drink.
"There's another reason I decided to burn the armour," he finally said. A scowl came over his face. "I am glad for my… sexual enlightenment, but… I am also furious."
Wait, what does his armour have to do with sex? Oh.
"Oh," she said out loud.
He looked at her, nodding. "Oh," he said. He shook his head. "I had no love for Danarius as a slave, but…" His voice softened. "To know that I can feel for men, that I needed connection to want someone… it made me think…" His eyes closed tightly. "Perhaps he hadn't been entirely full of shit about me having affection for him once."
"Shit," Hawke said, dumb-founded. "And I thought my ex was a scumbag."
"Perhaps that's why he was so bitter with me from the start," Fenris said, his eyes somewhere far away. "He'd complained to me once, after he had too much to drink. It was right after one of his lovers left him for the hundredth time. He complained about men and how difficult they were, and told me I was an easy man. At the time, I thought it was a compliment. But then he said that is why it hurt him more. That even so, I did not have any real affection for him. Like I 'used to'." He sighed. "And there I was… my heart going into my throat thinking how can I prove him wrong so he wouldn't be upset," he said, rolling his eyes. He sighed again, very bitter.
"Order him, force him, do a blood magic… and still no real affection," Hawke said, scoffing. "What on Thedas was he doing wrong?"
"It's not that…" Fenris said, pondering. "It's that he may have been right. I may have actually…" He couldn't finish. All he had was a terrible scowl.
"Fenris," Hawke said, grabbing his shoulder. "Young people are dumb."
A corner of his mouth smiled, but not for long.
"And even if there was something there before," she continued. "That could have never been a real thing. A relationship requires equals. Anything short of that is abuse. Especially if you've never been loved, it's easy to get tricked. You may have cared for him, as some victims do, but it doesn't mean anything. He may have cared for you too, may have treated you like an equal behind closed doors, but that's just even more fucked up."
Fenris scoffed. "He did not care for me. He longed for a puppet. He wanted to make me into his little puppet, and the ritual backfired on him so bad, I almost don't regret it," he said rapidly, his voice like black ash in his mouth.
Hawke inhaled, pursing her lips. "That's fucked up, Fen Fen."
He scoffed, taking his glass. "Tell me about it."
She was sad now. Sad and very, very angry. Sad for his suffering, angry at the injustice of it, and an awful mix of both at the thought that by way of amnesia and trauma it wasn't just a deep loss for Fenris, but a victory. That it had to be a victory. That it was his only form of rebellion, accidental though it might have been.
Danarius may have felt the same. He got his great win with the lyrium-marked obedient little butcher, and lost everything else. He lost whatever person was inside him all those years ago. A more tender-hearted person, perhaps, but more importantly, someone with a mind of his own. Even the most controlling sadists didn't want their victims completely mindless in their obedience. They'd construct a fairy tale that they must really want to be treated that way, or that they deserved it somehow. If not out of guilt, then out of pride. But Danarius didn't have that luxury. He knew past Fenris perhaps too well to truly believe the fragile comfort of wilful delusions. And there was nothing in this world more fragile than a prideful man's ego.
Perhaps it was for the best that he'd lost his mind. Perhaps without that tragedy, Fenris would have remained a slave to this day. A slave to his master and a slave to the delusion of love for those who did not deserve it. Then again, with an abusive narcissist, love always had an expiration date.
"Andrei was like that," she said, very anti-nostalgically. "He was a horrible little shit, put me down constantly, but he was nice to me one on one. It was very confusing. In a moment of weakness, I fell for it. Then as soon as we were married, the mask came off. He really was just that horrible little shit, only worse, because by that point we lived in two different realities. I lived in the reality where I continued to be myself, saying what I thought, wearing what I wanted, talking to whomever I liked, and he lived in the reality where he was the only one who was allowed to be right, and he felt entitled to my obedience. I tell you, he got a real fucking disappointment," she said spitefully, drinking.
"Good," he said, thinking. "He did care for you, though," he said uncomfortably. "I… saw it in his eyes."
"You saw what I wanted to see," she corrected. "But what does it even matter? Why would that excuse horrible behaviour? It doesn't!" she said, banging her drink down. "If I learned one thing all these years it's this—Love is not enough. Even if Danarius cared for you, it doesn't matter. You must believe he cared for you a little, judging by that armour, but it really doesn't excuse any of it."
He frowned at that last bit. "What do you mean?"
"Well… did you have a say in the making of that armour?"
"No. He simply gave it to me after I," he said, then rolled his eyes, "'recovered' from the ritual." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "But what does that have to do with anything?"
"The raven wings, or whatever those were," she said. "I mean wouldn't it have made more sense to have wolf motifs on your armour? Or serpent ones, for Tevinter, I suppose. No, he made it a bird-themed armour, because that's what you love."
Fenris stared at her with a whole parliament of deeply unsettled emotions. He downed the rest of his drink and banged it on the table. "I am so happy I burned that shit," he said nastily.
"That's right," Hawke said, cheering him on. "Burn that shit!"
"If only I could burn my markings," Fenris said bitterly, staring at his empty glass.
"No, no, no," she said, touching his hand. "They are part of you. They deserve transformation just as much as you do." That caught him off guard, and she had his attention. "Let your own light shine through them."
His scoff came so fast it could have won a medal. "I suppose that's a nice way of looking at it," he said insincerely.
He wasn't convinced even a little bit. He thought it was a fantasy. And the truth was, what did she know? She didn't fucking know. But she wasn't going to validate his hopelessness. He had himself for that.
"It is another way of looking at it," she insisted, finishing her drink. "A way that might just give different results."
His face said it all. He was tired of the same old result. "I hate it when you make excellent points," he said bitchily, trying to drink what was no longer there.
"I know," she said, kissing his cheek. "I'll get the next round."
So, Hawke went to the bar and thought… what could cheer him up a little? She looked back at him and he looked so damn sad. She was happy to know his trust in her was deeper, that he felt he could open up again. But she wasn't going to let his big day have a downer ending.
"Hey, err… do you perchance make a very red cocktail, something with cranberries in it?" she said.
"Redheaded Slut?" the bartender said.
Her eyebrows and jaw went in opposite directions. "Uh huh," she said. She pursed her lips in annoyance as she looked back. "And Sex On The Beach, please," she grumbled.
"Well," he said with a saucy eyebrow, starting to make the drinks. "Anything for the pretty redhead."
"Really?" she said, smirking. "Can I put you in a garbage bag and kick you to the sand?"
The bartender spilled the cranberry juice.
She pursed her lips innocently and shrugged. "'Cause that's kinda my thing."
As Hawke came back, she wanted to tease and/or lightly chastise him about his cocktail, but Fenris took his drink and immediately continued the monologue.
"I was so curious about my life before, but…" he said, shaking his head, "Now I'm not certain I wish to know."
"If you don't know, then how can you learn from your mistakes?" she said, sitting down.
"What's there to learn?" he said sternly, touching her knee. "I have chosen well."
"To be fair…" she said, grinning. "The bar was set pretty damn low."
"No, Hawke," Fenris said, his hand on her thigh. His dark eyes came real close. "My bar pierced the fucking the sky."
Well… nevermind. It seemed like he could cheer himself up all on his own. He didn't even look at his drink. Moreover, sweet Maker, he had to stopbeing so damn alluring. He made it so hard. In that moment, all she wanted to do was take him home and fuck his brains out. She put her glass in-between them and started sipping loudly from her straw.
"Problem?" he said, smirking.
"Yeah," she said, looking down and breathing in. She put her drink down and looked at him intently. "When you say things like that, I want to take you home and fuck your brains out."
"I know," he said, grinning with half-lidded eyes.
Damn him.
"You want me to lose it and be like your little drink?" she said calmly, her eyebrows pointing to it.
He looked at the Redheaded Slut and his eyebrows twitched and his mouth came slightly open. Disarming was an art, and he wasn't the only artist in town.
But then he brazenly drank from it, his eyes on her, and he wiped his lips seductively. "Well…" he said, smirking. "What else is new?"
Hawke scoffed and came in his face. "You know nothing, Scarecrow of Seheron."
"I have a lifetime to learn," Fenris said confidently, "Clown of Ferelden."
Night time, Fenris's Mansion
The bedroom door banged loudly shut, and Fenris pressed her up against it. "Are we being good or are we losing it tonight?" he teased her.
The look on her face was priceless. She was trying so hard to hide her resentment. He would have felt a little guilty, but he was enjoying himself too much.
"I will be honest with you, Fen Fen," Hawke said with a smile. "I've never passed a test with flying colours."
"Hmph," he said, smirking. "Save one."
She gave him a playful smile "And which one's that?"
"How hard you make me," Fenris said, taking her hand to him.
Hawke looked disoriented. He could barely hide his enjoyment. She abandoned eye contact and looked down, her pupils the size of eclipses. She inhaled deeply. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?" she said meanly, looking up.
"Am I?" he said with a little smile. His cock twitched and grew again.
"H-ho," she said incoherently, containing herself.
"What's the matter?" he said, his eyebrows going up nonchalantly. "Last time you did that you were so confident."
Hawke's mouth came slightly open, remembering Varric's birthday. "That was… different," she said, then gasped as he ran her hand along him.
"How?" he said.
"I was…" she said, breathing out, "mad at you and I was trying to take control. To scare you a little." Something like sadness trembled in her eyes suddenly. Guilt? She needn't have felt that. She hadn't known. But it comforted him.
"You are right, then. It is different," he said. Her eyes came up on him. "I am not scared," he said softly, shaking his head.
It wasn't the whole truth, but it was the truth in that moment. He wasn't scared and he didn't give a damn about exploring the reasons why. He just wanted to show her what he couldn't tell her. Show her a little more. Words might have failed him, but biology was bursting with confidence, hard with need.
They looked at each other, breathing unsteadily, and her hands flew at the back of his neck. He kissed her hard, pushed her into the door, sank his nails into her belt. He unbuckled it urgently, threw it away. Gauntlets flew, breastplate banged on the floor, boots were kicked away. He was ready to tear her sweater off, but that gave his madness pause, because she would have killed him.
So, he stopped himself and let her hang there, and he saw the hate in her eyes when he backed away slowly. He sat down at the foot of the bed, knees wide apart and looked up at her. "It is your turn, adorae."
Like lightning, she took her sweater off. His eyebrows came up, but not by what he'd expected. The flower vine tattoo poured from her shoulder down her chest and connected down to her womb. Her breasts were pushed together and hiding something. He was dying to see what they hid, and what the bra hid. With a snap of her fingers, the candles in his room became lit. He felt a little dizzy.
Hawke walked up to him until she was standing between his legs. Her own legs stood wide and confident. She grinned down at him, loosening her braids. He tried to steady his breathing.
But it was so hard. She bent down, grabbing his knees and her face came into his. "Are you ready to forget your own name?" she said.
She was so damn alluring it took everything in his power to sit still. "At this point I am ready to remember my old one," he joked, smirking seductively.
She went down on her knees and unbuttoned him and pulled down on his small clothes and—
"Holy fuck!" she said, staring at what came out.
"What's the matter?" he said nonchalantly. "Do I have something on your face?" he teased, pointing it to her.
Hawke looked like she was having an aneurism. She looked up at him and then, in the most unexpected turn of events, began laughing like a maniac and she fell backwards.
Fenris blinked and shook his head. "That… What?" he said.
She shook her index finger at him and kept laughing, and she buried her face in her knees.
That's not what you wanted… That was… what? He looked down at himself. There was nothing wrong. Or maybe there was, and he had no idea. It was a little curved, sure, but… wasn't that supposed to be a good thing? Maybe it had too many veins. Maybe it was ugly. Maybe…
"I'm sorry!" she said between laughter, her face coming up. It went back down in her knees. "I'm so sorry!" she said, and continued laughing.
He couldn't even make words now. He carried on with the rigorous self-critique until Hawke finished her fit.
"Hooh!" She breathed out between her palms and crossed her legs on the floor. Her hands came together as if in a prayer, and her index fingers came up. She was about to say something as she pointed them at him, but she looked away, and didn't speak.
"At this point I will take any actual words," Fenris said irately.
"Oh my Maker, I can't believe myself!" Hawke said, laughing again. "Sorry. I'm okay. Sorry. I'm good now. Sorry," she said, and breathed out. "I just uhm… I just thought you were full of shit!" she said, chuckling nervously.
"When have I ever lied to you?" Fenris said, raising an eyebrow. "Moreover, you've gleaned my size before, on more than one occasion."
The first time was… the second time they met. That's not what you wanted. He had finally slept. For a whole day. And then he couldn't move. His muscles had turned to stone, an empire of knots. She was worried and brought food and a Varric with her, and it was so incredibly mortifying for so many reasons. He kicked the dwarf out and let her force-wave his muscles back to life, and it gave him the weirdest erection and he came out of bed happily and then he died inside. They didn't speak for several weeks. He much preferred that time to this time.
"Oh, no, no, no, those were semi's, or I don't know, three quarters or black is slimming or…" She laughed again nervously and fell a on her side. "Shit," she said, face-kissing the floor. "I was so poorly prepared."
"You had me thinking I was hideous or something," he said.
"No! No. No," she said, half-picking herself up. She crawled back to him, which made him hard again. "You're very nice," she said, grinning as she took his cock.
Fenris gasped and composed himself. But that went completely out the window as she began rubbing it up and down and she licked the head so quickly he wasn't sure if he made it up in his head.
He took her face and breathed heavily and his hands went to her breasts and she slapped them away. Then she grabbed it with both her hands and took him in her mouth and he died.
"Veeenhedis," he said, falling down on his elbows. That was incredible. Had anyone thought of that before? She was a genius. The hottest genius in the universe. He had no words. Only moans.
Where was his mind? Where were his lungs? Hawke came up and pushed him down on the bed entirely and she loomed over him, his whole life in her hand. Sweet, amazing, discombobulating life. She took his face, bit her lip in a breath-taking grin and said, "Look who's being good now."
Look who's being good now.
LOOK who's being good now…
Look who's being GOOD now!
The words resounded in his ears, only it wasn't her voice. It hurt his ears, cracked his reality, and he felt like something broke inside his head.
"Stop," Fenris murmured, terrified.
"What?" Hawke said, confused.
"Stop it! Just stop!" Fenris growled. He didn't even see it when he took her by the shoulders and pinned her down.
Hawke sank her nails in his arms and she breathed rapidly, terrified of him. Fuck, it hurt. Her eyes more than her nails. He blinked and gasped and backed away, scared of himself, scared out of his mind. He bumped in the fireplace and two candles fell on him. One burnt his arm and he hissed loudly and then—
"Holy fuck!" she shouted. His markings turned on against his will, and he felt his head colder than ice, and something wet fell on him.
Fenris gasped and held onto the fireplace. Hawke ran to him. "I'm sorry, Fen Fen! Your hair was on fire!" she said.
His hair?!
This night was a complete disaster.