"Shall I help you up?" Fenris said, standing.
"Yeah… I gave it my all on that staff…" Hawke said tiredly.
He helped her up, and, standing face to face, Fenris started huffing and smirking.
"What?" she said, frowning.
"You're small," he said, snorting.
Hawke looked down at herself, at her chaotically colourful pajamas and her serious lack of foot platforms and glowered up at him.
"Whoa," Fenris said flatly. She was not the glowering type. "Is that a sensitive issue?"
"Like you would understand, you big tree," Hawke complained, moving past him.
She heard him chuckle behind her. "If you think you look less threatening now, you are wrong," he said.
She held onto the door and put a flat hand under her chin. "Thank you."
He came behind her, rubbing her arms and kissing her head. "But you are small, and that's funny," he said, going out the door.
He was exaggerating. Au naturel, she was half a head smaller. But why did she feel so threatened by that?
Hawke was surprised to see the amount of food Fenris made. There was Highever soup, the chicken and mash potato in tomato garlic sauce which he saw in the Fade, and Fereldan-style pancakes. He carefully highlighted her mother helped only in spirit.
Then there were the flowers on the table. He must have just taken them from somewhere else, but it was interesting he felt the need to do that.
She felt like a fucking queen. A tired, fallen queen that needed a bath soon. Also, not an all-powerful queen, apparently.
"Sit down," Fenris would say sharply when she tried to get up and grab things herself. This time it was over a condiment. "You have only two jobs. Getting better, and lighting candles. Because… effort," he said, grabbing the chilli flakes.
"Fine, fine," Hawke said. But when he asked where she kept the spare salt, an evil smile came over her. "Third shelf."
He came back and she watched him with a raised eyebrow as he… borrowed cherry tomatoes from a salad and decorated his mash potatoes polka-dot-style. Then he salted them with sugar. She bit on her lip hard, her chest already vibrating. His eyebrows clashed adorably. She couldn't take it anymore and broke into chuckles, while he shot her a serious death glare. "That's for looking into my chest," she said, winking and eating. "Spare salt's over there."
"Well played," he said grumpily, drinking water.
Hm. So the food wasn't an apology. It was… just because.
"This is nice," she said, smiling.
"It is," he said softly, nodding to himself.
"I like having you around."
"You've had me around before."
"Not for sleepovers. Not… I don't know. It's nice not to sneak around," she said, looking from one place to another. "It's a tired trope in this house."
"Sneaking around is sexy."
"I won't deny that for a second, but… I don't know. I think I find it sexier holding my elven boyfriend's hand in public."
Fenris scoffed. "In Kirkwall? In broad daylight?"
"I don't give a fuck," Hawke said, drinking.
He seemed to think about it. "I thought you were trying to keep your reputation up since all the bad press."
"I refer you to my earlier statement."
He chuckled to himself. "Well, if you really want your reputation to tank, I suggest taking me to that human's ball."
"Ha! That'd be hysterical!" she said, laughing. "But I thought you wanted to keep a low profile."
"I'm tied to you, one way or another," he said, thinking. "I'd rather they tied me to you as your strange boyfriend than your 'manservant'."
"You really think that'll stop?"
"No. That is inevitable." He drank. "Unless we got married," he said nonchalantly, putting his glass down.
Maker… She missed the times when that was just an inside joke. It didn't work anymore. She choked on her tea. "Yeah, call the caterer. We'll get right on that."
"That's not what I was suggesting."
"No? Fereldan food. Dinner by candlelight. Flowers. And is that cologne I'm smelling?"
Fenris smirked and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I remember a certain someone saying in the main hall that if she ever truly wanted to marry someone, she'd be the one to propose."
"I stand by that statement."
"Then you can rest assured none of your future candlelit dinners will contain hidden metals."
"Good. That's a terrible way to propose."
"You have a better idea?"
"If I tell you, it might ruin the element of surprise down the line."
"I hate surprises."
"True…" she said. She put down her napkin and came forward in her chair, thinking. He was all ears, holding an arm to his knee widely. "Nah," she said childishly, and resumed eating.
He looked a little disappointed. He cleared his throat. "There better not be any surprises at my party."
"Save for the gifts, of course."
"What did you get me?"
"Nice try."
"Please don't get me a self-help book. I will break up with you."
"Perfect. You'll need something to wipe away the tears with."
Fenris chuckled, looking away. "Then get me about three."
"Aww," Hawke said, grabbing another bite. "You're so into me."
He put an arm over the table, flicking his fingers. "Into is a strong word…" He grinned darkly. "Inside, an even better one."
She chuckled and rubbed her ear, looking away. "How can you think about that when I look so terrible?"
"You don't look terrible. You look…" he said, scanning her with the nervousness of a man that just realised he may have been walking himself into a guillotine, "… pale?"
"You find ghosts sexy?" she said, amused.
He brought the glass to his mouth, thinking. "I don't believe so." He took a sip, then said, "On the bright side, I have the luxury to think now."
Look at him all sexed up and charming and looking at the 'bright side'. Did he hit his head?
She grinned and stretched her hand over the table. "Then by all means, continue to think up good lines."
"I am putting them in the bank as we speak," he said with a little smile, intertwining his fingers in hers.
They went on talking about this and that, about Aveline and Donnic's recent coupling, and especially about Crimson & Clover. He was into it, no joke. Even the boring trade war side plot. It was her favourite book, so it felt nice to talk about it with someone so important to her. But she felt bad about it, seeing him so invested. It should have made her happy. But she couldn't shake the feeling of sadness, that he couldn't find himself in books as he were, that he had to look up to human characters for admiration. Crimson & Clover was controversial and progressive featuring lesbian protagonists, but nearly all characters were human save for a couple of angry dwarves and some forgettable elven servants. If you wanted variety, you found them in hardcore smut like Escape From The Void (though not nearly with as much research). In fact, most of them were quite racist and creepy. Then there were books that barely qualified as fluff, and they were full of human nobles all the same, even if a dwarf wrote them. Elves were extras. That was the reality of it. He was justified in feeling angry about Ferris the bartender.
"Maybe when you're done with the book, you could write your own series with an elven protagonist," Hawke said to him.
"Pfft, I'm no writer," Fenris said, looking away.
"No, but you can write." She paused to think. "I mean, you're always in your head. People hear a monosyllabic comment, but it's carefully selected out of a whole list of thoughts on the subject. Furthermore, you are very interesting."
"I've made my feelings on writing a memoir very clear."
"I know, I know. I'm saying if you write fiction, you're interesting enough with all you've been through to create something thought-provoking."
Fenris took his drink and scoffed. "I am in two minds about everything. It would be exhausting."
Hawke pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows innocently. "Well, if you're always in two minds about everything… the best thing you can do is make them soulmates…"
He frowned. "What?"
"Mary and Belle," Hawke said, chuckling. "Have you not seen the author's name? Maribel of Windemere."
Fenris had not noticed that. His frown was comic. "Wait…"
"Waiting," she said, smiling childishly.
"Mary and Belle are just two parts of the same author?"
"I suppose all characters are. But Mary and Belle are the two main forces of her mind. She said when they clash, it's important to make them talk."
That gave him a lot of thought. He was silent for a while.
"Would you like to get back to bed?" he finally said.
"Yeah, sure. Well, I'd like a bath, if I were truly honest."
He sprung up, all ready. "One nice bath coming up."
As he was leaving, she blinked. "Is this out of the kindness of your own heart or do you just want an excuse to see me naked?"
He stopped, looked to the side and smirked. "Two things can be true at once."
"Isn't all this, uhm… help…" Hawke said, sweating after a long attempt to find a better word for 'being of service', "kind of against your… 'free man' thing?" she said, with air quotes she now regretted.
Fenris turned around. "My… 'free man' thing," he said a little snarkily, mirroring her air quotes, "is about choice." He stared at her intently, hand on his chest. "This is my choice."
"So, the Amell shield is not just for protection."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Most people are clever enough not to mess with me."
"Damn," she said, grinning. "You are just getting better and better."
Fenris scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned in the doorway. "You have a checklist or something?"
"Yes," Hawke said quickly, innocently.
"Hmm," Fenris said, tilting his head sultrily. "I am doing well, then."
She nodded rapidly, smiling.
Hawke loved her bathroom. Duck egg walls with pink flowers and a bathtub in a similar shade with a pink rug underneath. Her mother had a million perfumes and creams, so it always smelled nice. Within a year of getting the house, Hawke made bathing into a serious ritual.
He helped her undress and get into the tub, then he raised an eyebrow. "Are you just going to sit like that the whole time?"
She looked up at him innocently, refusing to take her arms away from her chest. "Yep."
The eyebrow came down, showing no particular expression. "Okay."
He went behind her to wash her hair, which was more relaxing than she imagined. He didn't push or pull too hard. Her eyes closed against her will, and she sank into a reverie. Until the reverie was broken by the words, "It is not fair."
She blinked rapidly. "What?"
"You said you'd show me when you saw my… 'real veins'," Fenris's voice came grumpy behind her.
Hawke's head fell back, looking up at him. "I meant when I got to play with it."
Fenris sighed loudly. "I'm getting a lawyer."
"Great. On your way there, can you also get the conditioner?" she said nonchalantly.
He threw the blue bottle in his hand. "Hmph," he said, reading. "Mine is better."
"Oh? So that's your secret? What do you use then?"
"I will tell you if you lower your arms."
She squinted at him. He had the most annoying grin. Ugh, but she really wanted to know. This was difficult. "Nice try," she decided.
He grinned back, as if to say, this wasn't over. She sank into the water and re-emerged. For someone who was such a 'hair connoisseur', he sure had no idea how to apply conditioner.
"No, you've got to smear it on the inside too!" she said in annoyance, doing it herself with one absent-minded arm on her chest. She saw him immediately tilt his head and she covered herself properly. "Hey, hey! No peeping!" she said, splashing water at him.
He laughed, then groaned to himself. "Alright…" he said, defeated, and sat on the edge of the tub with his arms crossed. "Do you know who stole from you in the bathtub?"
"Huh?" she said, frowning.
Fenris stared at her, very serious, and a finger came out from under his other arm towards the toy in the water. "A robber duck," he said flatly.
She put three fingers to her forehead. "That was so bad," Hawke said, chuckling with a raised eyebrow.
"You're laughing."
"Because it's so bad!"
She thought of it again, the dry, dead pan way in which he said it and pointed, and she chuckled again.
"It's not so bad."
"Did you get that from some cheesy almanac?"
Fenris frowned unhappily. "I made it up."
Hawke bit her entire lips on the inside. "It was super hilarious, Fen Fen."
"Mhm," he said, smirking. "Are those the deception skills you were bragging about earlier?"
"It's not my fault. You know me too well now," she said, smiling.
He smiled too. He was in a good mood. His eyes went up to the flowers on the wall, then they fell half-way toward her. "I do know you too well…" he said with a grin full of happy malice. He rolled up his right sleeve, revealing the nice muscles and prominent veins on his arm. The veins went in the water and—
"Oh, fuck…" Hawke said in a small voice.
"Mhm. That you are," Fenris said with a sadistic little twinkle. He rubbed something on there no doubt beautiful, while she sank in rosy pleasure. She could almost make it up. C… H… something…O…
"Oh, no, you can't do this to meee," she whined with her eyes pressed shut. She hugged herself tighter. S…W…O…
"I don't hear any Sunset," he said nonchalantly.
M…. something…N…
"Mother of—" Hawke said, moaning.
"Quiet, naughty girl," Fenris said, glowering.
Right. This wasn't his house.
"That's a good… a good…" Her head fell against the tub. She kept closing and opening her eyes.
He looked very happy.
"Ready to guess, ma adorae?" Fenris said, his finger pushing a clear and luscious H on her.
"I'm a pain in your arse?" she said, smirking. Eyes kept closing, she kept breathing. Arms tightly shut over her chest.
He shook his head silently with that strangely calm gaze that she knew hid a thundering storm. He merely watched her, stretching the word out to an infinity of delicious O's.
"Hold on… wait a minute…" she said, thinking with closed eyes of another bad guess. "I'm the hottest mage on Thedas!"
Fenris grinned darkly and stopped. He nonchalantly took his hand out of the water and dried it fastidiously with a towel.
"Alright, alright… it was 'chaos woman'!" Hawke whined, her head sideways against the tub wall. She looked up at him innocently. "Please come back."
"Hm," Fenris said, smiling with half-lidded eyes. He slowly put his hand back in the water. "Look who's got all her manners now."
"It's very hit and miss," Hawke said, gasping as he slid his fingers in her. The fragrant smells intermingled with her senses. His nice and careful pushes on her sweet spot made her legs flex and the water ran between her legs, pushing even more.
"You look more like a hit than a miss kind of girl," Fenris said in a deep, seductive voice, coming down to kiss her. He put his other hand around her neck. Her pussy muscles were throbbing bad. She couldn't see them, but she could swear they were lighting up like beacons when he suddenly and determinedly raised his shoulder and started hitting her spot at an angle with all the power in his upper muscles. Damn… damn… damn it to the Void! He was kissing her, biting her lip, choking her without undue force, and… and… she had to touch herself. She had to. It was the piece that was missing from what he was trying to do. Wait… is that why he left it out like that?
Wait!
…
When did he learn how to do that?
None of that mattered now. The waves in the water only made things better. She caved and touched herself, and he hit harder and she had to hold onto the tub. Immediately, Fenris's hand came off her neck, grabbed her right breast with a fury, and then he bit her. His teeth on her neck surged a million signals through her body. The whole world became an overwhelming tsunami of bright and pink pleasure.
"No! No! Fuuuu—" He left her breast in peace and put his hand over her mouth as she moaned with her eyes pressing shut.
Fenris looked down. "Damn, I missed it."
"You…. You…" Hawke said in happy incoherence, chuckling. "You hit and you hit and you missed!"
"But it happened," he said, taking his hand out to dry it.
"Oh, yeah…" she said, smiling and sinking in the water.
"Excelle—" As she re-emerged, Fenris looked up from his towel and his grin suddenly died. His green eyes became big and strangely overwhelmed with emotion. The saddest puppy eyes in the world. He didn't speak. He just kept staring in silence. In fact, he looked like he was about to cry.
What was happening…? Hawke stared at him, frozen and hesitant. She was familiar with the dumbfounded stare of a troglodyte at the sight of breasts. In fact, she herself became a leering troglodyte once in a blue moon when Fenris felt like going topless. But… that? She looked down at herself, and remembered she had a tattoo. The flower vine came down her shoulder blooming over the top of her breasts, and in the space between them the main vine connected into a pink heart that had Kirkwall's map point. It had to be that. But… why that? She thought he'd find it chummy and weird.
Instead, he looked like he was about to fall apart!
"It's okay," she said softly, touching his hand. He looked away. "It's okay… It's okay…" she said, sitting up so she could reach him. He breathed unsteadily when she touched his face.
"I'm fine," he said, standing up woodenly, away from her.
Hawke grabbed onto the tub and stood up. He turned around and his anaesthetised face melted again at the sight of her. She reached out and hugged him, wet as she was. His arms came around her back tightly, his head on her chest. He kept breathing strongly, unsteadily. She hugged him tighter, rocked him a little. His forehead went against her chest, like some kind of sad bull. He could feel his eyelashes on her wet skin.
"It's alright," she said softly, petting his hair.
His head fell down along her abdomen as he sat down on the edge of the tub, his arms around her hips. She didn't know what to do, her hands dangling in the air. She let them fall down on his hair.
He couldn't do words at all. She had no idea what was happening, but the certain thing was he was having a moment. As quiet as it was, she felt something pulling hard on her heart strings. Maybe she needed to offer him the comfort of silence.
He kissed her abdomen, then sank back into his moment.
This was… this was some next level shit. Love? Hurt? It looked like something intermingled. He was holding her like some kind of beacon.
She continued to pet him, giving him the silence he needed. At some point he sniffled and took the towel and wiped his face. "I'm sorry," he said, looking down at it in his hands. "I don't know what came over me."
He knew. He knew, but it was a lot. It was a lot for her too. Her hair of wisdom couldn't help her. She was in unexplored territory now.
"It was the tattoo, wasn't it?" Hawke said, sliding back down in the tub. He gave her the sponge. She took it happily. He'd done enough.
"Yes," Fenris said softly, his reddened eyes on his knees. "It's…" He shook his head. "It's silly."
Damn, it hurt to see his eyes.
"Whatever it is, I don't think it's silly."
"It is a little silly."
She pursed her lips and pointed to the heart, so he'd finally look at her. "This hurt like a motherfucker."
He rubbed his chest briefly. "I know." There it was, a cute little smirk. "I feel less empathetic considering you did it out of your own volition."
"Oh, they said it would hurt like the Void on my shoulder and I braved that thing like a motherfucker!" she complained, slashing the air with her arm. Her shoulders sank and her leg bent upwards. "But… yeah. I was not prepared for that... I cried. I cried so much they had to go out and buy more towels."
Fenris chuckled. "Cry, baby, cry."
"Cry, baby, cry," Hawke agreed, shaking her head. "It still hurts."
"No doubt."
"But I think heart pain… as in emotional pain… could give breastbone pain a run for its money," she said, thinking to herself. She tapped her chest with her knuckles. "A horrible, stabbing pain, and then an everpain you can't touch." She looked up at him. "I think that's worse."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I know. It's terrible," he said, rubbing the middle of his chest. "And you can't touch it," he said softly, gloomily. He took her hand, put it on his chest and said, "I think… I think you touch my pain…somehow… but…" he said, looking away briefly, "in a good way."
"I get that." She took his hand to her chest. "You touch my pain, too."
He frowned. "How?"
"In many ways…" she said, thinking. "You helped me repair my relationship with my brother. Once three years ago, then again now." She looked up at him. "You pushed me to give my magic a chance on more than one occasion. You made me think more deeply about it all," she said, looking down. "You make me feel like I can be myself. Like fully myself."
He inhaled deeply, thinking.
"And when you said you wanted a family, it hit me the hardest. That's the most important thing to me and… it's hard."
"Why?" he said, frowning.
"It's… hard, to live with myself…" she said, looking away in an internal film of memories. "Knowing I didn't want Holly and Devon, because they were 'inconvenient' or with the wrong guy or 'Fuck this, I'm not having a mage like me' kind of mentality," she explained, fingers going to her forehead. Her knees came together, and her calves apart. "I went to an underground plague doctor twice and I was too chickenshit to go through with it. It was only much later when the troubles began with my body that I realised I did want them, and when they were born and it was like that—" she said, snapping her fingers, "I fell in love hard." She became very sad. "And I beat myself up hard over it. But in the end, it wasn't me whom I should have worried about fucking them up. It was the world. It just hurt me so much to see the world around me treat them badly. Act like they were weird or a burden, say that my blood was tainted and it was a curse and Maker knows what manner of demon possessed that kid just because she doesn't smile, and all the damn darkspawn comments!—" She felt all that old rage shooting back, but she stopped that violent train in time. She inhaled and sighed deeply. "It just makes me so fucking angry and I know she's out there, in that cruel and cold world, getting her heart broken by idiots—"
Fenris hugged her silently.
Hawke sighed. She felt so small all of a sudden, so very small. He felt so big. She wasn't threatened this time. It was nice. "I just… I'm really happy you're not one of those idiots."
"People are idiots," Fenris said flatly. "Idiots that can know better."
"Yes, exactly."
"I'm not disabled, but I know what it's like to be treated as if you are."
He had a point, now that he mentioned it… Tevinter was much worse than Ferelden.
"I know how it's like to be stared at," he said, coming out of the hug. He looked somewhere in a corner, but it was clear he was in his own world. "To be hated, feared, misunderstood." He blinked painfully. "Pashta was a general's daughter, if you can believe it. Her mother couldn't handle the thought of a mercy-killing, despite Tevinter's unforgiving pure-blood culture. She grew up in the highest society and she still had a hard time."
"Maker, I fucking hate that word."
"Mercy—?"
"That one."
"You will never hear it from me again," Fenris said firmly. His eyes went back into his memories. "But those idiots missed out. She, in fact, was Tova's main brain. She knew the battlefield better than anyone. We really suffered a hit when we lost her." He became sad, and shook it off. "Either way, you have nothing to worry about with me on that front."
Hawke smiled. "Good." She thought about it. "I think you are disabled, though, even if you'd technically be 'high-functioning', which is another word I hate."
Fenris's eyebrow twitched and he stuttered. "It… certainly feels like that at times, but—"
"Those markings did a whole number on you. The magic. The slavery. All that shit. Depression is a disability, so is post-traumatic stress, so is chronic pain. They all fuck with your everyday functioning. It's not pretty."
"It really isn't."
"And the worst thing you can do about these problems is to beat yourself up about it. If you're not on your own side, if you don't give yourself the compassion you need, then you've lost already."
"Oh, dear. Does that mean I must stop my carefully curated rituals of self-flagellation?"
"Maybe not cold turkey, but…" Hawke said, smirking.
Fenris chuckled nervously and smiled. "I'm working on that."
Back in her room, it must have been well past midnight. But time did not matter in that moment. He felt suspended in time, somewhere in between. Ever since Val Chevin, he felt in a constant state of deja-vu. They would come at him when he least expected it, but he couldn't connect the moments to anything. Even when they didn't come, there was the faint feeling, in the background, suspended in time and space. It was frustrating, but wonderful. A small price to pay for being with her.
Hawke had changed her room since he was last in it. Over the years, she had acquired more and more plants, both big and small. The tall ones were adorned by those strange, self-sustaining fairy lights. No doubt why he had dreamt of trees wrapped in lights. Her bedding became turquoise with a purple throw and myriad of navy, pink, turquoise and plum pillows of various sizes. In every corner there was some kind of bookstack turned into a nightstand/plant holder with leftover mugs, pencils, doodles. He couldn't help but clean up, but he left her odd nexuses mostly untouched. It felt like a cosy jungle at night.
But even though there was a lot on his mind, he felt strangely at peace. They both lay on their fronts over the bedding, him on a turquoise pillow and her on a plum one. They held hands between their faces. He could look at her forever. She was like a splash of a million colours, and she coloured his soul like nothing else.
"Ma adorae, you should know…" Fenris said, looking at their hands. "I am feeling very strange lately."
"Well, nothing about this is normal," Hawke said with a little smile.
"It feels normal," Fenris said, thinking. "That is the strange part." He went on thinking. "I feel like I'm going through a change, and… it's scary."
"I feel the same," Hawke said, nodding and sighing. "It's weird, but it's a good weird."
"For what it's worth…" Fenris said, looking into her eyes. "I too feel like I am more myself around you. What self that is, however, I don't understand."
Hawke frowned. "What do you mean?"
He inhaled deeply and sighed. "Which leads me to the next item on the agenda—"
"You've been sitting on a whole list, haven't you?" she said, chuckling.
He huffed and smirked a little. "Quite." He looked up, and before he could continue, he frowned. "That's a mirror."
"Yep," she said nonchalantly, looking up. "Say hi," she said, waving childishly.
Fenris saw their reflections in the bed roof mirror and felt even weirder. A good weird. "Avanna," he said to them with a quick saluting gesture. He had a love-hate relationship with mirrors, but seeing himself with her felt nice. He saw the back of her calves cross upwards and then he looked at his backside. It dawned on him. "You want to see us having sex!"
Hawke rolled her eyes. "No, I want to see us knitting together."
"You're a total freak, Hawke."
"I'm surprised you say that when you haven't even noticed the handles."
He looked up again. There were a few handles on the roof. Why? Oh, of course. He knew why. 'Traction'. Take away her penis and Hawke will find a way around it. Then again… he could always use more traction too…
"I can't wait," Fenris said with a little smile.
Hawke grinned approvingly, biting her lip. "You were saying…?"
"Ah, yes," he said with a contained smile. It quickly faded away as he said, "Since Val Chevin, I feel like I am in a constant state of deja-vu."
"Oof, that can be overwhelming."
"Has that happened to you?"
"Sometimes. It's strange. But it's a good thing. It means you're more in touch with your feelings. It's your intuition trying to come through to you. Just listen to it."
"Right…" he said, unsure and unconvinced. "Just… listen," he said, shrugging.
"You're a good listener. Should be a piece of cake," she said, smirking.
"Alright… but if someone talks back, I am done."
"Then I don't recommend drugs."
"You're so crazy."
"I'm crazy? You're the one with voices in your head."
"There are no voices. And that's hysterical, coming from the girl with demons in her head."
"Spirits and demons," she said sharply. Another glower came. They were kind of scary coming from her.
"My apologies," he said calmly. "Coming from the girl with spirits and demons in her head."
"Well, that doesn't make me crazy. It makes me interesting," she said smugly.
"Do they talk to you then?"
"I try to keep a waking-life/Fade balance, so no. They talk to me when I'm in the Fade."
"So, they can, you just don't allow it."
"Well, sometimes it's entertaining. But for the most part, it's exhausting. I can't hear my own thoughts. It's better this way."
"Well, I am not whatever weird type of mage you are, so if I hear voices, I'm definitely crazy."
Hawke chuckled, rubbing her thumb on top of his hand. "What's with all this concern about being crazy?"
Fenris sighed. "Which feeds into the next thing—"
"Item #3. Go on," she said, smiling childishly.
"The fog dream," Fenris said, with the voice of a man walking towards a noose.
"The fog dream," Hawke said, with the voice of someone who had no idea what they were getting into.
"I keep dreaming of a foggy forest in Seheron. It doesn't look like anywhere I've been before. I wander and wander, until a rooster with two heads guides me to a dark theatre."
"Holy shit. That sounds awesome!"
He contained his grunt of disapproval. Her enthusiasm was going to wane soon on its own.
"Everyone inside is a puppet. The actors, the audience… me…" he said, looking into a corner. "They keep putting up plays about my life. Some interesting, some quite disturbing. Hawke keeps teasing the next play—"
"Huh?" she said, frowning.
"Right…" he said, pursing his lips. "I forgot to tell you you're in it. Big time."
"Andraste!" she said, chuckling. "What am I like?"
That was a complicated question. "You are… a presenter of sorts. Sometimes you are a perfomer too. For most of these years, you were dressed as a charlatan magician."
Hawke may as well have fallen off the bed. "That is gold!"
"Now you're… more of a witch," he said, swallowing. "A gothic witch."
"I like that," she said, to his surprise, thinking. "I must be hot."
"Quite," he said, grinning. "But you were mad at me for making you femme."
She frowned, which made him anxious. "On a scale from Aveline to Isabela, where am I?"
"In the middle, perhaps."
"Do I have my stompy boots?"
"Yes."
"Then put me in a flowery dress for all I care."
He chuckled. "That is not how I expected you to react."
"Well, that's fair," she said, smiling a little. "I like femme. Just not… ultra femme."
"What's ultra femme?"
"Like a princess."
"Oof. You're no princess," he said, brushing her hair. "Unless the princess has a dirty, torn dress and stompy boots."
"And drinks and smokes," she said, mimicking as such.
"Either way," he said, going back into his memories, "She keeps teasing the next play, entitled Can You Feel The Sun? But it never comes to that."
"The Sun…" she said, rolling her eyes. "You have an obsession."
"You were the one who asked me what my favourite constellation was on the roof."
"And here we are, Elgar'nan, three years later, still talking about it."
"You have to take me as I am," he said, glowering.
"I'm only teasing," she said, kissing his cheek and ruffling his hair.
He blew air up his bangs. "Anyway… Something always goes wrong before that play starts. Either the first play ends in a disturbing way, or I look around the theatre and I notice a puppet with no strings. They turn into a shadow and run away. I chase them, but never catch them. I become slower and slower, until a horde of wolfheaded shadow people catch me and take turns kicking me on the ground."
"Shit," Hawke said, changing face. "That's fucked up."
"Only very recently, a Qunari female shadow comes to my rescue."
"That's why you were so obsessed with Neha!"
"I wasn't obsessed with her."
"She made you have a deja-vu."
"Yes. But it's clear we've never met."
"Still. A Qunari shadow means something. Did she say anything to you?"
"Maraas shokra. Loosely translated, it means 'you have nothing to fear from me'."
"Someone from your past," she said, very matter-of-factly.
"Highly unlikely," he said, thinking. "Qunari slaves are few and far between, and even then, they are kept in labour camps. Danarius would have liked a Qunari slave, but they are shot in the street. There is no way I would have met one."
"Well maybe you knew her in Seheron, when you were a child."
"Perhaps," he said, contained. "Stranger things have happened."
"The scenery is in Seheron after all."
"Then why didn't I remember anything in Seheron?" Fenris snapped, a little frustrated.
Hawke shrugged. "It's a big island, innit?"
"I suppose," he said, sighing. He felt so exposed now. It was becoming a little much. But he had to finish the story. "There is this… dancer. He starts off the show, normally. He looks like me, but has dark hair and no face. Cannot speak."
"So, you really hate mirrors," she said with a kind of pity.
"I'm not fond of eye contact," he said, deflecting. "Thus, I frequently spook my own self in the mirror."
She laughed in her pillow. "That's hilarious."
He sighed. "I think Danarius taking me to performances has corrupted me."
"Or inspired you," Hawke said with high, innocent eyebrows.
"Call it whatever you want. It's odd," Fenris said, thinking. "He has these big dark wings. He is free in his dance. He has a big pink heart on his chest. Unbroken. Unlike mine," he said, looking away, filled with sadness he couldn't place.
"So, you are a dancer," Hawke said, her grin wide as a peacock.
"No," Fenris said sharply.
"Oh, come on. You make jokes about it, but every joke has a grain of truth. Plus, you're obsessed with dancing birds."
"Yes, because they're clever and interesting, not because I want to spring up on tip toe and do a ballet," Fenris said, rolling his eyes.
"I don't know…" Hawke said, smirking. "Didn't you dance with me in Val Chevin?"
"Well…" he said, thinking. "That may have had something to do with the changes."
"What changes?"
"Dream Hawke and the Dancer seem to be in cahoots with each other. They both want him to speak, but…"
"Whoa. What's that face for?"
He was too transparent now. He felt like he was going to faint.
"Something… someone…" he said, but he was failing to speak now, ironically. His everpain grumbled in his heart. How could he explain this? He didn't even understand himself. "Some kind of beast, a wolf most likely, is unhappy with the changes. I can never see it, but it growls loudly, tries to get into the theatre."
"Damn, how many more characters are there?" she said, flabbergasted.
"One more… since the funeral," he said, staring at her. "Witchy Hawke literally pulled him out of me. I call him the Reaper. He has my hair and old armour, a cape made out of darkness and a long, tall scythe."
"Ah, so that's why you felt insulted when I called you Death."
"I should think I'm more to you than what random nobodies think of when they see me."
"But Death means transformation. It's your sign."
"My what?" he said, raising his eyebrow.
"Your star sign. The Raven. Or The Scorpion, in the ancient version."
He sighed. He should have seen this coming what with the tarot. "Sure."
"Don't get all cynical and holier-than-thou. You came to Kirkwall because a psychic told you to."
She was never going to let him forget that.
"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "What is The Raven?"
"A real intense character," she said, smirking. "Glowers, smoulders, doesn't take things lightly. I hear they're animals in bed."
"Do you even know how birds reproduce? It's not sexy. And a scorpion will kill you."
"I know. But it will sting me first," she said flirtatiously.
"You're an odd human," he said monosyllabically.
"Maker, your pedantic arse can't take someone else's metaphor if it hit you straight in the eyes," she complained. "All these characters, they're metaphors. Symbols. Subconscious representations, if you want it all cold and clinical."
"No, I got that," he said, smirking. "I'm just saying, hurting you is not what I plan to do with my… member."
"Have you seen the size of that thing? Of course, you'll hurt me."
"Really?" he said, concerned.
"It's fine. The replica helped. It will adapt," she said, rolling her eyes. "In time."
"Well… in a way, that makes me feel better. I won't be the only one hurting."
"And that too will fade, in time."
"I hope so." A thought came over him. "Would you like to come with me to Markham?"
"What's in Markham?" she said, frowning.
"Merlin recommended me a pain specialist."
"Really? That's awesome. Of course I'll come." Her eyes flickered with that familiar force of Hawke excitement. "We can take Aveline and Donnic and go catch a Grand Tourney game!"
He raised his eyebrow, thinking. "That's… not a bad idea, actually."
"Anyway, you were saying about the Reaper?"
"Right. The Reaper has a heart-shaped hole with little pink teeth on the edges. He lost his heart, and made a scythe out of the broken shards."
"Metaphor, metaphor—"
"Again, I know."
"So, who are you then?" she said, chin in hand.
"I have no idea," he said tiredly.
"No. I mean… who are you left with? If the Reaper unblended from you."
"I am… me."
"What do you look like?"
"I look like myself, as I am now. With my new armour."
"What's your heart like?"
"Intact," he said, smiling a little. "But it's a little cracked."
She smiled warmly, brushing his bangs. "Good. It's the cracks that let the light shine through."
She was impossible to resist sometimes. He could feel his own heartbeats, thud, thud, thud on the mattress. He'd always kept a cool, weary distance from his own body, but lately he felt like he truly occupied it. It was a lot of responsibility, but… she was so, so worth it.
"Dream Hawke has one like that too, and she has made no secret of it. Beat me over the head with it, really."
"As she should."
He turned on his back, sighing. He hated the mirror again. He didn't know who he was.
"I know who you are!" Hawke said, springing up excitedly.
"Of course you do…" Fenris said tiredly.
"You're The Lover," Hawke said with much too enthusiastic eyes.
He chuckled. "What?"
"Well, the Dancer is something of a past remnant, someone freer maybe? Or, maybe it's just your whimsical side!"
"Right. I have a whimsical side," he said, making air quotes.
"Of course you do. You're funny and cute," she said, ruffling his hair again.
"Well…" he said with a kind of disappointment, turning his head away. "That would explain why she likes him better."
"Damn! I'm swimming in Fenrises down there!" Hawke said gleefully. "But yeah. Dancer in the past. Reaper, also in the past. Now you're the Lover. My… handsome hero," she said, raising a flirtatious eyebrow.
He couldn't help but smile a little. He didn't know why, it was just nice to hear that. "Fine. I will take that."
"Sounds to me like this is a Fade puzzle. Parts of your mind are trying to tell you something, and the more you truly live in waking life, the more the show goes on."
"It is puzzling…" he said grumpily. "Wait…" he said, squinting. "Does that mean you could come into my dreams and hack the puzzle so I finally get to my Maker-damned Sun?"
Hawke changed face, becoming serious. "I could… but I won't."
"Why not?" Fenris said, annoyed. "I am tired of night terrors."
"Because it's a process, and you shouldn't fuck with it."
"You'd rather I just kept waking up screaming next to you."
Hawke sighed heavily, scratching her head. "If you really want me to, I will. But I really think it's not a good idea. For all I know, I could lobotomise you."
"True enough…" Fenris said, sighing.
"I could come and look around," she offered. "Help you solve the puzzle."
He didn't even know why he was so eager all of a sudden. In the next minute, he was back to sweating and feeling like fainting. He didn't want her to come in and look around. That was too much. What if his moment of enlightenment contained the worst things? He had to know alone, first. Then after a long time of self-flagellation and heart-wrenching guilt, he would tell her. Then she may leave him. But that was the order that made sense to him. No damned shortcuts, neither to his doom nor to his happiness.
"Putting a pin in that," he said, contained.
"The important thing is you're making progress with it," she said, petting his hair. "Moreover, I am here with you now. I will always be here. To hug you, soothe you. Void, I will sing you a lullaby!"
That softened him. He loved her so much. "You don't know what this means to me," he said, kissing her hand.
"I can guess," she said, smiling. She looked to the side, thinking. "So that's why you broke down in my bathroom?"
Why did she have to bring that up? "I don't know," he said. It hit him like a halberd in the heart. He felt his heart had a string tied to hers and if she pulled too much, too quickly, he would just come undone. In a good way, possibly, but also in a terrible, terrible way.
"I thought you'd find it chummy and weird."
"Were it not for the veritable circus in my head, I most definitely would have."
"Well, maybe you're chummy and weird."
"I'm not chummy," Fenris said, glowering.
"A softie," Hawke said, sticking her tongue out.
"Still at least five levels of hardness above chummy."
"Oh, you know all the levels? Monitoring something?"
"Monitor this!" Fenris said, spanking her.
She liked that. Way too much. He was all kinds of confused. He had inclinations. No, inclinations would have been modest. Every time she annoyed him, he dreamed of doing something less than pleasant to her. But it was all wrong to him. Or it used to be. No, it was wrong. He had no disposition to explore that line of thought any further at the moment.
But he felt a huge weight being lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you. For listening to me."
"Anytime," she said warmly. "It's not so bad, actually, what you told me. I mean, it's bad. I wouldn't like going through that. But it's better than I thought."
"It doesn't sound so bad now that I said it out loud."
"Monsters always seem bigger when you keep them inside."
He hated that monster. Hated that growl. It was visceral, angry, knew no love. It terrified him. But… he wasn't alone.
"The… monster, is getting angrier and angrier."
"Because you're getting close to something."
"The forest was sunnier last time."
"Closer to the Sun then."
"Happiness, then?" he said pensively, looking up at himself.
"Well, it's like the tarot lady said, innit? That's the answer."
"Technically happiness is the outcome. The answer is me becoming a fool in Kirkwall."
"Well… you're a fool for me," Hawke said, grinning.
"I am…" Fenris said, turning back on his front. He took her hand. "But I don't want to make you the answer."
"Then don't make me the answer," Hawke said nonchalantly. "You're the answer. You're your own answer. You just have to keep to the journey until you reach the Sun. I believe in you, Fen Fen," she said, kissing his forehead.
Ah, little light, shine bright inside. It was getting bigger, warmer. "I suppose that's why Witchy Hawke complained about me not getting on stage."
"I agree with her," she said firmly. "You're the protagonist of your own world, aren't you?"
"That's what she said."
"She sounds smart."
"Well, she was made in your ima—"
Before he knew it, Hawke was all over him. She intertwined her fingers in both his hands and kissed him, and he felt like he was about to burst like a love balloon. Hawke was a very loving person. To his honest surprise, he found himself on the receiving end of it. It felt big, strong, red-pink. Almost too hot on the skin. A kind of love he didn't really feel he deserved. But wasn't that a silly thing? Wasn't it just some asshole in your head that made you think you didn't deserve to be loved?
He'd listened to that asshole long enough.
In fact, he thought, he wanted to travel back in time to Wildervale and stick his middle finger in that asshole's face when he laughed hysterically at the thought there was someone out there for him. He wanted to tell him, "Yes, idiot! You will be loved. Tip this old woman! She did you a massive favour. You could have ended up in Ferelden. You could have ended up sad and alone and probably dead by hate crime, because let's face it, you are their least favourite thing there. Now go buy some cologne. You are about to meet the most beautiful human being in the universe!"
Of course, the asshole would scoff, and he'd meet that scoff with, "You have no idea. You're an idiot." He'd look down, regretful of his words. It was always words that got him in trouble. "She will hate you for a while. But that's okay, because you're loveable, really."
The fool would laugh hysterically at him. He'd smirk and say, "Good. Keep laughing. You will be laughing your whole life from now on."
"You are insane," the asshole would conclude.
Maker, why was he arguing with himself? He was getting a headache.
Where was the beautiful human? Ah, there she was. He caught her and rolled them and he came on top, and kissed her some more. He took her hands and came up. There was something internalising in the background, something else he was getting close to solving, so he took a risk. "Do you believe in soulmates, Hawke?"
Her eyebrows came up. "That's an incredibly serious question to ask at 3AM on a Sunday."
"I pick my moments carefully."
"I'll say."
"Do you?"
"Do you?"
"I asked you first."
"Alright…" Hawke thought about it. "Yes and no."
"In typical in-betweenness fashion," Fenris said, smirking.
"I believe they are real, but no, I don't think they're star-crossed lovers. I think some people have the potential to become soulmates. It requires an intense connection, but that connection can only go so far depending on a lot of things… How you communicate, how you deal with conflict, how much effort you put in, how vulnerable you allow yourself to be with them, how much you involve them in your life… If you share the same values on these things, and you try to keep true to those values despite making mistakes—'cause we're all mortal at the end of the day—then I think you can really call them a soulmate."
"Funny," he said, smiling a little. "I was thinking something similar."
"Anything to add/correct?" she said, smirking.
"I don't know. I think some people just get each other," Fenris said, thinking. "Then there's something about the soul. Some it feels to me pre-ordained and eternal."
"I agree, actually," she said, which produced in him a dizzying frown. "I think we're eternal, no matter if we die. Like we're all part of the whole. There's a part of the whole right inside you!" she said, poking his chest very gently. He looked at her hand, and, for whatever reason, felt unexpectedly sad. "And everything else—"
"Is just blowing bubbles?" he said, still unable to shake the sadness.
"Well… I'd say they're pretty important bubbles," she said, rubbing his forearms gently.
"Very important, indeed, these bubbles…" he said, rubbing her hand. Why was he so sad? He must have had those puppy eyes she kept teasing him about.
"Yep. They need a big VIB room inside the soul."
He chuckled a little. "Well, you are larger than life, and you somehow contain it all in one bodacious human body. I have things to learn."
"Learn, baby, learn. I am very wise."
"Is that how you turn demons into spirits, then?"
"Well, I don't have sex with them."
"You better not. I am a jealous man."
"But these very important bubbles…" Hawke said pensively. "They're like different parts of your personality. Like those characters. There are parts of those you've lost too that live on, then there are parts of those alive—"
"There is a part of me that wants to be inside you," Fenris said, grinning darkly.
She chuckled. "Only one part?"
"A part directly connected to the whole of me, yes."
"Nice save."
"Well, I don't need to be inside you all the time, do I? In your soul, or… otherwise. Sometimes we can just be."
"In the in-between."
"You and your in-betweeness."
"Sorry," Hawke said sultrily, closing her eyes. "Your poetic side is sliding inside me like crazy right now."
He chuckled.
"But it is kind of all about parts—"
"And wholes?" Fenris said, trying hard not to smirk.
"Yes, parts and holes, haha."
"Your goofy side is getting to me."
"To you, or in you?"
"Stop."