I have such a stupid crush on Fairbanks. This game offers so many crush-worthy NPCs and "background" characters that I'd love to see more of in future games. Fairbanks has such a unique background and part of the story I couldn't help but do a Oneshot to give myself some form of resolution. So yes, this is completely self-serving and features an OC from a race of creatures I created some years ago and who have popped up in several stories, including other Dragon Age ones. Feel free to leave a review of praise or critique. Cheers!
"So," she watched his shoulders tense and his hand drop to his sword hilt in response to her voice breaking the silence of his darkened room, "were you ever going to tell me the truth?"
Recognizing her voice, his stance relaxed, and he continued in his original purpose: readying himself for bed. She knew it had been a long day for him. She'd heard it in his footsteps as he'd come up the stairs and walked across the floorboards to his chambers. She'd seen it in the drawn lines around his mouth, his jaw ever clenched from holding back curses of frustration whilst in public. Dealing with the refugees was never easy and, thanks to the Inquisitor, dealing with the fawning and near-pawing of those who believed he would seek self-promotion now that they revealed his noble origins added a new element of fatigue.
It was this latter fatigue, this revealed element of nobility, that had brought her here. Up to this moment, she'd never been in his room, let alone waited for him in the dark like some assassin. They'd come together months before as allies in a cause against those who sought the destruction of innocents. Believing the integrity of his character behind his oath to the people, she'd joined his makeshift forces, but never remained at his side. Her unique abilities were best used in private, away from judgmental eyes. So she came and went as she willed, accepting missions from him and reporting back their success (and they were always a success).
Their alliance had always been expressed in the public arena, their friendship lauded over the fires of those they saved together, but their mutual admiration had never been spoken aloud. And she was no fool. She knew he admired her. He admired her success rate, her prowess as a hunter of evil, and she knew he admired her body. She felt his eyes on her form, assessing the strength of her character, observing the lithe grace of her movements, esteeming the exotic beauty of her full lips and wide eyes. She knew he desired to touch her skin, the color of burnt caramel, without blemish, without scar, despite the brutality she faced in battle, layered over undulating steel that was her muscles. She had known desire in her time, and she recognized it in his eyes. But he had done nothing, never hinted at anything, and she knew he would not. He was a man of principles, and those damned principles would keep her at bay.
"The truth?" Oh, how she loved his voice. The lilting purr of it always slid down her nerves and left a comforting warmth in its wake. "And which truth would that be?"
He shed his weapons and the outer casing of his armor as a caterpillar did its skin and it mesmerized her watching him reveal his beauty to her. She could see him clearly, though he had yet to light a candle, owing her dark vision to her enhanced abilities. He knew she could see him, they'd traded some of their "offensive secrets" before and this was one ability she felt safe to share. He now seemed to relish the dual nature of protective darkness and her own skill as seeing in dark as a man might see in day. He sat on the edge of his bed to unlace his boots, his movements without tremor or haste.
"Your noble blood, Fairbanks." She drew her lips back into a smirk, one she knew he could not see. "Or should I say, Evariste."
His movements faltered, be it ever so slightly, as he pulled off his boots and stood barefooted on the wooden floor. He peered into the darkened corner she'd dragged a chair into, his gaze shadowed with a myriad of emotions before a deep sigh escaped his throat.
"No one has called me that for some time." He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. "There is no point in starting now. Fairbanks will do."
"The question remains, Fairbanks, were you ever going to tell me?"
He untucked his shirt and pulled it over his head. He seemed unperturbed by the fact that she remained in his room, that she'd never seen him without armor, or that she desperately wanted to touch him the way she knew he wanted to touch her. For he was not the only one with principles. It had been years since she'd felt such a desire to touch and be touched. Not purely physically, no she'd felt her share of lust and slated it as one might scratch an itch. The tugging she felt towards Fairbanks was of a far more dangerous nature and that was why she refrained. This was the lure that caught the fish permanently, and she still wasn't quite certain she wanted to go through the pain that came from that "permanence;" for while it was permanent for his lifetime, she would outlive him, as she'd outlived the ones who had come before him, and she would continue to outlive any who came after until merciful death came for her.
"I too have questions," he unlaced his trews and without ceremony stepped out of them, standing now before her as a naked god, not rippling with sculpted muscle but radiating strength of will, consistency of character, and vibrating with an essence of power that she yearned to be enveloped with. "Perhaps you might answer them."
She stood. Moving closer, she allowed him to see her in what little light the moon offered through the colored glass of his window. She stopped just out of arm's reach, memorizing this moment to lock away for the rest of her days. He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his gaze. She chuckled and mirrored his stance.
"And what questions might those be?"
"Were you ever going to tell me the truth?" She frowned, uncertain what he meant. He capitalized on her confusion and moved forward. She didn't fight him out of sheer curiosity when he unbuckled her belt and pulled her daggers away, setting them on the table beside his sword. "Or were you going to let me live and die not knowing?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He smirked, returning to stand before her. His hands did not tremble the way her voice had in her reply when he reached out and untucked her shirt from her leggings.
"Come now," he pulled at the string holding the front of her shirt together, "did you really think I would not seek to know how it was you were always successful alone, no matter how insurmountable the odds?" He bent down and, unsettling her balance and causing her to grab his shoulders, he lifted first one foot then the other as he removed her boots. "That, when presented with reality, I would not then seek further truth through pertinent legends and myths from all across Thedas, all hoping to confirm the truth." He stood up, hooked his thumbs in her legging, then knelt again, dragging them down in one motion. Standing again, he smiled, "YOUR truth."
Still frowning, and still wildly curious, she stepped out of her leggings, standing only in her shirt as she faced a growing vulnerability. He was edging towards something that she never thought possible. None of the others had ever known her truth. Some would have tried to kill her rather than face reality, others would have fallen into despair at the challenge to their preconceived notions. He was the first to seek the truth, seemingly accept it, and still stand here before her as he was.
"What are you saying, Fairbanks?" Her voice shook, as did her body, as they both wavered on the precipice.
He had within him at this moment the ability to break her, and they both knew it. He could damn her with the truth, turning all those she held dear against her as they refused to listen to her declarations of loyalty and affection. She was only a threat to her enemies, and they were not, and never would be, an enemy. She had never condemned the innocent for their ignorance, nor for the actions they took against her in their ignorance. Everything within her demanded she destroy the wicked, eliminate the unjust, and eradicate those who would prey on the innocent. She had never taken a life that was not warranted for the taking, and she would not start now.
He reached out and cupped her face, the roughened pad of his thumb brushing over her cheek. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. They shared breath; they shared warmth. She was tempted to melt into him in that moment, without seeking resolution, but she refrained. Those principles were still between them.
"You need never fear me," he pulled back, though his other hand dropped onto her shoulder, "I will never betray your truth." It turned her curiosity to full-fledged desire when he pressed his lips first to her forehead, then to the sensitive skin at the base of each ear. "To betray you would be to betray myself."
She swayed and had to reach out and grasp his shoulders to keep from falling, "Please," she felt liquid warmth prick her eyes, "tell me what you mean. Plainly."
Fairbanks pulled her into his arms, "I know what you are, and I do not fear you." She felt him kiss the top of her head, "I know what you are, and I will not tell others." His hands smoothed over her back, "I know what you are, and I want you as my own." She pulled away enough to look at his face and saw his abject sincerity. "For the rest of my lifetime, I want you to be as my flesh, as my soul."
She cried out, pain mixed with pleasure, as her soul committed to his confession. Pressing her lips to his, she infused the kiss with all that she'd held back, all the passion and desire she felt for him but had, up till now, felt necessary to hide. She heard a rumbling affirmation come from his chest a moment before she was lifted, carried, then deposited on his bed. She was shed of that last of her clothing in one swift movement and then they were back together, flesh against flesh, melding together into one as he declared he wanted.
"Will you be mine?" He whispered against her skin as he kissed a trail down her neck, his hands ghosting over the skin of her thighs, dipping between her legs. "For the rest of my days, will you be mine?"
Pulling his face back towards her own, she nodded, "For the rest of you days, I am yours and you are mine." She kissed him, her hands pulling him tight against her body as he moved to settle between her legs. "Let there always be truth between us." She smirked, "Evariste."
"Mon vouivre," he growled into his kiss and he pressed himself into her, eliciting a mewl of pleasure from her and a satisfied grunt from himself.
Their coupling was impassioned and quick. They'd held back far too much, far too long, for it to be any different. And they knew they had his lifetime to have much more lovemaking, slow and thorough, fast and desperate, and everything in between. The principles barring them had fallen away. They had been set free to be as one, and she would remember him always as the one who first embraced her truth.
Mon vouivre means "my dragon" in French. The OC is a member of the Taninoui, a race of beings I created who can assume dragon-like form as well as human-like form. If you want to know more about them, read my other fics featuring Taninoui, "Sea Dragons and Ocean Masters" and "A Dragon out of Place and Time." Hope you enjoyed!