"Show me again, once more, Kitten?" Isabela murmured gently, leaning over the beer-soaked wooden table in the Hanged Man and bumping against Lyra to get a better look at what Merrill was showing them. The bar around them was loud, men and women shouting and drinking, the hour still early evening. Merrill smiled eagerly at the two other women, one wearing pirate garb and the other wearing an apron, and all three of them holding their own spool of yarn. Merrill with fuzzy pink yarn, Lyra with hardy green, and Isabela with soft red yarn.
"Like this, Isabela; yarn over, insert into the stitch, pull through, pull through two. You have it!" she exclaimed, and Isabela gasped, holding her beginnings of a mitten with joy in her eyes.
"Peaches 'n cream!" she whooped, her whole body wiggling happily while carefully keeping her stitching steady so as to not lose her place. Lyra frowned to herself, leaning over to get a better look.
"What am I missing…" she murmured to herself, studying her own messy clump of yarn intently, thinking if she focused hard enough it would come to her. Isabela pointed to her work and helped her out, right as a fourth lady approached their dirty table in the middle of the bar.
"Sorry I'm late, everyone, you won't even believe what my uncle did today…" Bethany slumped into the bench next to Merrill, the woman pulling out her own blue yarn from her satchel.
The friends caught up together, Merrill leading the show in a lesson of knitting and crocheting, Isabela buying the table a round of drinks after a while. The night wore on and more people entered the bar, the alcohol flowing and the people bustling. Lyra looked up after finally getting a stitch down, dismay overtaking her expression.
"So many people tonight. They need help behind the counter."
Isabela waived away the mass of people behind them, smiling at Lyra kindly. "Ah, don't worry about them. These people know where the booze is; they find it in their sleep."
Bethany spoke up, looking up from her small blue coaster. "My brother should be here any minute, Lyra. I think he wants to talk to all of us."
Lyra nodded as a few more of their friends appeared, Anders looking worn from an evening of healing the public, Varric looking tipsy from… living.
Finally the man they were all looking for weaved his way through the bar, his armor splashed with dried blood and his eyes fiery.
"Good evening, everyone!" he smiled warmly and met all of his companions' eyes in turn. "We have work to do, tonight."
O
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"This one," Lyra whispered, meeting Isabela's gaze intently. The elf gestured to the mansion up ahead, looking like any other rich noble's mansion in Hightown. Isabela nodded.
"Right. Let's sneak right in and put this sorry man to rest."
They shared a smile before creeping together along the wall, the two rogues the only ones comfortable enough among Hawke's companions to enter this way. Lyra glanced around them, seeing the dark alleyway deserted, then knelt down to the basement door to take a look at the lock.
The others should be near the front entrance by now. She fiddled with the lock for a moment before it clicked open, and she silently slid it from the latch and set it down carefully on the ground.
Isabela grabbed one door and she grabbed the other, and they slowly lifted the doors together, slow enough that the hinges wouldn't squeak. Their eyes adjusted to the deeper darkness below, and they crept into the bowels of the mansion, closing the basement door behind them.
Lyra listened for a minute, hearing the faint sounds of far off voices echoing along the stone walls. Isabela slid her daggers from her back, spinning them a few times to warm up, and Lyra readied her bow.
The women snuck along the dark hallways until they came upon a candlelit room, the sound of two of Balgruff's men arguing around the corner. Lyra and Isabela locked eyes, nodding to each other when they had communicated their nonverbal plan. Lyra knocked an arrow and aimed it at one of the men, as Isabela poised at the ready to strike. In the man's mid-sentence, Lyra loosed her arrow and watched it pummel straight through the man's left eye socket, jerking him back and silencing him. Isabela lunged from the shadows right as he fell, stabbing the second man in the back with both of her curved daggers.
The hallway was silent, and the women continued on the path up through the mansion, working efficiently and assassinating the mercenaries with deadly precision.
Now, Balgruff won't have an escape route. Lyra thought, appraising Hawke's plan to herself. She and Isabela reached the ground floor, the two peering up from the staircase to see a mass of twenty men about, some guarding the door, others sitting at tables and drinking with cards. Lyra looked over at her partner and cocked her head thoughtfully, a small smile coming to her lips and her voice the softest whisper.
"I think it's time…" she unclipped three of her home-brewed grenades from her belt. "...for some chaos, what do you say?"
Isabela's eyes widened and she received one of the mini bombs Lyra was handing her, her eyes glinting and her smile mischievous.
"Absolutely."
They threw the grenades out in separate directions, one to a clump of them standing by the main front door, one to two sitting in a corner sharpening swords, and the third on top of the very table that four of them sat at, the bomb crashing into the pile of betting coins in the center of the table.
The explosions rocked the mansion in unison, the shouts of the mercenaries drowned out or silenced in the few seconds that followed. Lyra and Isabela lunged in motion a second later, Isabela jumping at and stabbing those still standing while Lyra took out the ones attempting to escape to the second floor with deadly speed and accuracy. A moment later the front door burst in, wood chips flying from the broken hinges as Hawke barged in with a roar, followed closely by Fenris and Aveline with swords in hand. Together the five quickly dispatched the remaining men on the first floor, completing their joint attack plan.
"Nicely done!" Hawke remarked as he sheathed his giant sword, blue eyes flashing a grin as he looked over his companions for injuries. Fenris locked eyes with Lyra the second he found her after she stood from the shadows hiding her in a corner. The side of his mouth lifted in a smile, his veins glowed a faint white.
"We finally put an end to this," he strode over to her and she nodded to him, smiling, and they grasped hands briefly in greeting. His eyes were alive from the fighting, but soft as they looked at her. "The man we've been hunting, since we met."
A fluttering feeling grew in Lyra's stomach from how he looked at her. She spoke to just him, her voice lowered slightly. "These few months have been well worth it. I should thank the man, when we find him."
His eyes flickered between hers for a few moments, as Aveline pushed over pieces of the shattered table, the coins clinking loudly as they fell. "We should hurry. If the main man's on the second floor, he may be able to escape through a window."
Lyra unfroze and nodded to her, detaching herself from the greens she so often became lost in. The group made for the stairs and she centered her focus, ready to capture this corrupt noble and give him to Aveline to serve whatever justice Kirkwall deemed.
O
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The sun was bright, shining through the high windows in the large mansion. Lyra looked up at the windows in the main room, opposite the wall with the fireplace and couches. Most of the floor of the room was littered with the debris of their attack a few days ago; the blood stains old and the broken furniture strewn around.
Lyra set down a large knapsack and wooden crate near one of the walls, the small amount of Fenris's belongings in there dwarfed by the huge room she was in. She heard the front door close behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see Fenris carry the rest of his belongings in large bags slung over his shoulders.
He was hunched from the effort it took to lug a hundred or so pounds of stuff from the Lowtown alienage all the way up to Danarius's mansion in Hightown. He dropped his belongings next to the large knapsack and crate, rubbing his neck and stretching his back from the labor. His greens flashed from under his white bangs, feeling her gaze on him, and he straightened up.
"Thank you, Lyra. I wouldn't have wanted to make that trip a second time."
She smiled and nodded, waving away his words. "Don't mention it. We don't get enough exercise every day."
Fenris huffed and returned her small smile, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment before surveying the damage their team had left after clearing the mansion of Danarius's mercenaries. He stayed quiet, his smile fading, his mind troubled and his eyes far away. Lyra moved a little closer, turning and surveying the chaotic scene in front of them, before asking him softly.
"You really wish to live here?"
He sighed heavily and nodded. "No, not really." he glanced at her beside him, meeting her gaze and then glancing away quickly before he continued. "The… the alienage has become the only home I've ever really felt…" he frowned, thinking, "...comfortable, in, that I can remember. I…" he swallowed, searching for words. "I don't want to leave the community there. It's… the people there, have grown on me. Especially after you moved in."
He looked down and took a few steps, stopping and turning to her, raising his head and meeting her eyes. "But I can't stay there, knowing that Danarius will send people after me. I can't put the people there in danger. I can't put you…" he scowled angrily. "I will wait for him here, in case he decides to send any more mercenaries, or Maker willing he comes himself. This needs to end."
Lyra watched him with widened eyes, seeing the internal struggle he was concealing and feeling the pain he was under in her own chest. She raised a hand and rested it on his arm, looking off to the wreckage in front of them.
She couldn't think of anything to say to respond to that, so they stood together for a moment, and she slid her arm through his, leaning to rest her head on top of his shoulder. She spoke softly into the large room.
"You must visit the alienage, from time to time. Your presence there, will be missed."
He seemed to release some tension in his shoulders, turning his head slightly to look at her, his voice lowering. "I, haven't said this to you yet, but I should have. You've been a real friend to me."
A warm feeling rippled through her gut, and she slightly tightened her hold on his arm, hiding how her heart had started to beat faster. "You've been the only thing keeping me sane from moving into this city, Fenris." She raised her head and looked up at him, stomaching a shock from how close his greens were. How they looked at her, so immersed. The corner of her mouth lifted, her eyes softened, and her voice lowered of its own accord. "I've not thanked you, either."
He blinked at her, and suddenly the look he gave her deepened further, regarding her with an intensity and intimacy she hadn't felt in so long. Spirits.
She broke the eye contact, looking down and then over to the fireplace, and unfroze her feet, taking a few steps over to the closest broken piece of furniture; a smashed chair, next to a smashed table. She bent down and gathered the broken pieces into her arms, as much as she could carry, and turned and made her way to the front door, her friend blinking at her with a confused look. She smiled at him, saying as she passed him, "Well I cannot leave you here with this mess; we must tidy this place while the sun is up."
Fenris watched her as she took the pile of trash outside, and when she returned, he passed her with his own armful of wood pieces, his mouth a half smile and his eyes regarding her fondly as they passed.
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"We haven't done a mission like this before. With such high risks." Fenris broke the silence, his words echoing off the distant walls in the main dining room of Danarius's mansion. He and Lyra had been simply sharing the space for the last few hours, with him cleaning his weapons, and her working on whatever project she was currently on for the alienage. This was pretty normal; they spent most days like this, both of them doing their own things but just wishing to do them together. She raised her head from where she sat on the floor near the fireplace and nodded at him in response.
"I agree. I know we are capable, but… there is more danger than usual." She set her tools aside and regarded Fenris. "Are you worried? You are not one to feel apprehension."
He was about to shake his head, out of habitual social courtesy. But he paused and met her gaze, seeing her, seeing her, and thinking about how much she had come to mean to him these last months.
I don't know why I'm worried. But dreams have been plaguing me. Strange dreams, nightmares of you being injured, Lyra. Of you being burned, or shot. Especially since you've started fighting with your daggers more.
Fenris met the curious blue-greens that blinked at him, her red hair tied back in a messy bun from her work, her feet bare of her boots since she had been here for the last few hours. He met her eyes, that looked at him softly, but he knew they could also perceive the tiniest details, the hidden truths in what she was looking at. I can't lie to her.
"Yes, I'm worried."
He watched her brows come together and she stood, approaching him where he lounged in his armchair. He sat up straighter when she reached him, and he looked up into her beautiful eyes framed by her dark tattoos, seeing only feelings of care and compassion in her expression. She laid a hand on his shoulder, but offered no words, and he felt the now familiar tightness enter his chest at how close she was. She knew words would not do as much good as a small touch would.
She bent slightly and reached out to gently hold his angular face in her hands. He lost himself in her eyes, absolutely loving how much care she had for him, and then Lyra bent and lightly kissed his forehead. He froze from the affection, and focused on calming his fast beating heart. The room was silent except for the sound of the crackling fire in the fireplace, and she whispered to him, her hands still holding his face, her lips still resting on his forehead.
"Promise me, you'll be careful tomorrow."
Fenris felt a shiver run down his back, the sound of her voice so close to him, and the feel of her lips moving against his skin making him heat up from the intimacy. She pulled away then, and she averted her eyes. He stared up at her, realizing with a start, that she was worried about him, too. He reached out and grasped her hand lying by her side, and her eyes flew to meet his.
"I can't promise anything, if you're ever in danger."
He watched her swallow from his words, and then she squeezed his hand. Her eyes were wide as they watched him, and fear gripped his insides, hoping he had not said anything to offend her. Her mouth formed a soft, hesitant smile, though her eyes remained wide, and her voice lowered considerably.
"Fenris. You are always in the middle of the fray. You, Hawke, Aveline. You damned warriors throw yourselves into danger, I spend most of the time in battle watching you head straight towards the danger!"
Fenris's expression relaxed, and he smiled up at her. "I have no fear, knowing you have my back from the shadows." He sobered, and looked at her meaningfully. "Imagine the fear I feel, never knowing where you are during a fight, and wondering if you are hurt."
She blinked. "You worry about me?"
Fenris stared at her incredulously. "Of course I worry about you." He shook his head at her ridiculousness and rolled his eyes at her lightly. "Maker, Lyra. Who would I drink with every night if you weren't here?"
She huffed, though her smile was genuine. "Varric. Or Anders."
Fenris gave her a look but shared her smile. "I'd rather not, thanks."
She lightly pushed him, and he winked at her, making her smile grow. She joked, "I'd be bored as hell if you died, Fenris."
He exhaled in a laugh, raising an eyebrow and cocking his head. "Aw, thanks. Good to know I'm good entertainment."
She winked, then squeezed his hand again before letting go, and politely averted her eyes once again. He watched her walk back to her place on the floor near the fire, her miscellaneous pipes and soldering iron for her project strewn across the floor. He didn't quite understand everything she did, but he knew she planned to add a sort of mass plumbing system to the commune space in the alienage, to better the public health. She was always working on some project that made the lives of the city elves' easier, and for that, he admired and appreciated her greatly.
"I never ask, but would you like any help with your projects?"
She looked at him over her shoulder, surprised. She have him a large smile. "I would love help. Thank you."
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Fenris deflected a sword slash from a mercenary, and then promptly shoved his sword into his stomach. He felt the sick crunch of bones breaking under impact, and then the slick wet sound of him yanking his sword out of the already dead man.
Chaos surrounded him, and he faintly heard Hawke yell to his left, the sounds of battle echoing off the walls of the cavern they were in.
Fenris felt heat to his right, and he barely dodged a fireball from an apostate. He raised his arms to try and block himself from most of the fire when an arrow stuck out of the mage's neck, and he fell right in front of him. Fenris glanced up to his left, in the direction where the arrow came from, and he met her blue-green eyes from where she crouched in the shadow of a nook in the cavern wall, and she signaled to him, her eyes wide and alert from under her hood. Fenris nodded and then sprinted towards Hawke, where their leader was facing two mercenaries with swords and one apostate. Another arrow stuck in one swordsman's neck as he entered the fight, and he and Hawke finished off the two left over with Lyra as their support.
He and Hawke regained their breaths for a few seconds, but Fenris remained alert. Lyra hadn't joined them; she had stayed among the shadows. That told him that their fight wasn't over yet.
"Merrill is still working on it?" Hawke asked as they both searched the area with their eyes. The ground was covered in bleeding bodies, the cavern cast in flickering shadow from the torchlight.
"Last I saw, she was cutting up her hands well enough," Fenris growled, and he heard Hawke sigh.
"That barrier shouldn't last much longer. Then we can get out of here in one piece."
They had been fighting off waves of apostates and mercenaries for more than half an hour, with Hawke, Fenris, and Lyra defending themselves while Merrill worked on dispelling the magic barrier around the corner that was trapping them inside.
"This is what we get for choosing to play into their ambush," Fenris muttered, glancing around above and seeing the small glint of metal, on a cliff to his right. He met Hawke's eyes and nodded towards Lyra's position, and they all prepared for the next wave.
Just then, they heard a blood-curdling scream, come from around the corner of where Merrill was. Hawke and Fenris looked at each other, fear in both of their eyes.
"Hold this position with Lyra," Hawke yelled as he sprinted towards Merrill. Fenris nodded and set his shoulders, bringing his attention to the tunnel leading to the back of the cave, where he heard the next wave of enemies approach.
Men upon men came rushing into the cavern, all of them armed with swords or maces. The mages have all run out. Which meant only close range combat.
Fenris was comfortable with short range and even hand to hand, but as more and more and more mercenaries flooded into the cavern, he felt his stomach drop in dread. In a minute, they could have him completely surrounded, and with so many swords, he could not defend against them all.
Then, an explosion sounded and a large flash encompassed the opening to the tunnel the enemies entered from, engulfing five or six of them in flames.
Relief flooded his veins, knowing that Lyra still had grenades left, and he searched around again, trying to find her. He was worried she had run out of arrows. We've been fighting here for nigh on half an hour. We're all exhausted, and out of potions.
"Is Merrill okay?" She asked behind him, and he whipped around, completely surprised.
"Maker, Lyra," he said as they watched the enemies surround them. "Hawke is checking on her."
She nodded, and twirled her daggers. They fell into place, back to back, and the first of the swordsmen ran at them.
Block, deflect, attack. They fought off the men, each guarding their own sides, trusting the other to hold off the men behind them. He could feel her moves behind him; when she tensed and when she kicked, and they moved as one, complementing each other. Fenris held up his sword and blocked a heavy blow, and Lyra slipped under his arms and stabbed the man in the abdomen with her daggers. He swept his broadsword around them in a giant arc as she ducked, making all of them stumble back, and Lyra quickly jumped to each, leaving stab wounds that would bleed out quickly. They continue like this for minutes, working together, using the other's strengths, and leaning on the other when they needed support from the overwhelming number of enemies.
Fenris felt a sword's edge slice across his upper arm as he dispatched someone else, leaving a searing line of red and causing him to yell from the pain. Fear froze his veins when he realized he would be too slow to block him. The swordsman rose his sword for a final blow, and out of nowhere, Lyra jumped at him, and stabbed him in the chest with both of her daggers. He fell backwards, and she crouched on top of him and looked over her shoulder, meeting Fenris's eyes. Hers were full of fear, and absolute ferocity.
His widened when one of the two last men had backed away from them, holding a stab wound, and drew a bow and arrow and aimed at Lyra. There was no time and Fenris instinctively lunged in front of her just in time, feeling the arrow pierce the back of his left shoulder and run through him as he almost fell onto her.
She gasped and tried to hold up his weight, her small hands catching him as he struggled not to make them fall, and he forced himself to stay standing. Quicker than he could follow she yanked her two daggers from the dead man's chest and, in seconds, threw them each into the chests of the two remaining men. Their bodies collapsed into the ground, leaving them in silence.
They panted for a few seconds, their eyes flitting around and waiting for the next attempt on their lives, and after a moment, Lyra stumbled over to the bodies and grabbed her daggers. She returned to him, eyes blazing in worry, and Fenris leaned on her, and together, they left the mound of bodies in the center of the cavern as they retreated to the tunnel leading to their companions. Lyra clutched at him tightly as they moved, and he tried to calm his heart, never having felt so close to death before. And never having seen someone so important to him close to death before.
They rounded the corner, just as Hawke was helping Merrill up, her arms soaked in blood and shaking but the barrier finally down. As a group, they escaped the cave, all four needing to get out of that place of death.
O
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They were all sitting around the table in the Hanged Man like they always did after a mission. Varric was retelling their own story again, exaggerating more than usual, and Hawke and Isabela were arguing, just like usual. Lyra fidgeted, and looked at Fenris next to her. He met her eyes easily, and they held the same uncomfortable look she was feeling.
"Would you leave with me?" she asked, just loud enough for him to hear her. He nodded instantly.
"Gladly."
They got up from the table and said their goodbyes before quickly slipping from the pub and into the chilly night. Lyra breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh air and the silence. Fenris absently scratched at the place Anders had closed the arrow wound on his shoulder not long ago.
"Drinks?" He asked her as they came to the place where they would have to separate to their separate homes.
"Yes, thank you." she said quietly. They walked in silence to Hightown, neither of them knowing what to say, and both of them still processing what had happened in that cave earlier in the day. Fenris could still feel the stab of pain he felt in his heart when he thought Lyra would be shot. What was even more confusing, was that he remembered the pain of fear he had felt seeing her in danger more than he remembered actually getting shot himself. He kept glancing at her as they walked, as if to reassure himself that she was still next to him.
They finally arrived at the mansion, and they went in comfortably, both soaking in the calming atmosphere that had become a comfortable place for them. They tossed their armor pieces on the table near the door, and Lyra took her boots off, padding on the floor with less sound than usual, which meant she was completely silent. He grabbed a bottle of wine on the way to their usual spot near the fire, and they collapsed as one onto one of the couches.
"Gods, what a day," she murmured, closing her eyes and leaning back to rest her head against the cushion.
"What a day, indeed."
She opened her eyes and looked at him with her deep blue-greens, and he met her gaze, sitting next to her on the couch with the fire slowly warming them. She raised a hand and reached towards his shoulder, and stopped an inch before she touched him. He felt a shiver run down his back at how close she was. A few emotions flit across her expression, and he questioned her with his eyes.
"Thank you, Fenris." she whispered. She breathed in deeply and gave him a small smile, but her eyes remained serious, her tone intense. "You should not have, but thank you for taking that arrow for me."
He blinked at her. Should not have? "I would do it again, right now if I had to."
He tensed when he fully registered what he had said, but did not take back his words, for he meant them, completely. Her brows upturned, and she reached for his hand, lying between them. She held his hand in hers, and she studied his fingers. He loved watching her face when she focused on something; her eyes narrowed slightly, she leaned closer. She brushed the tops of his fingers with hers, and then she ran her fingers over his knuckles. He spoke, breaking the silence with his baritone.
"You, saved me as well," he said quietly, stirring his fingers slightly in between hers. Her hands stilled, and he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her palm, and he could visibly see her shiver, sitting right next to him. His eyes flew up to meet hers, and she blinked at him, seemingly as perplexed at what she was feeling as he was.
"I just...didn't think," she murmured, the light from the fire flickering across her face and highlighting her eyes. He could see so much in them, like they were a direct portal to her soul. She held such unapologetic, vulnerable care in her eyes. Like she really cared about him, and she had absolutely no shame in showing it.
He had never felt that from someone before, and her honesty gave him the room for confidence to show that he felt the same way, for her.
"I can't think at all around you, quite honestly." he said bluntly. He stroked her palm with his thumb again, and her shoulders seemed to drop an inch, like she finally let go of some tension.
"I can't think either, not right now," she spoke softly, looking down at their intertwined hands. She kept her gaze lowered. "Fenris, I don't ever want to make you feel uncomfortable." She paused, and Fenris stared at her, convincing himself to not reach out and caress her cheek, or pull her into an embrace. "But I should be honest with you." She frowned, struggling, and his body screamed at him to comfort her somehow. "I, have come to care for you." She glanced up at him. "More than I care for just any friend."
He blinked as his heart swelled with such a pleasant feeling, and without thinking, he grasped one of her hands and brought it to his face gently, and he lightly placed a kiss on her knuckles. She froze as he did this, so he let go of her quickly. He averted his eyes, and began to panic, thinking he had misread her, and began to apologize.
"Forgive me, I don't really understand what's going on with me, but I can't think straight when you are near, and it's actually been quite maddening because you have only been a true friend and now that's suddenly not enough, and I can't stand the thought of making you uncomfortable, and I have absolutely no experience of what it means to feel like this and-"
She stopped him abruptly by leaning closer, holding his face, and kissing him. Fenris nearly jumped out of his skin from shock, but kept still and froze, completely caught off guard. Her hands held either side of his jaw gently, and her lips seemed so impossibly soft against his that he felt his stomach drop to the floor and his chest tighten painfully. She released him and averted her eyes, her cheeks blooming under the lines of her tattoos. He stared at her shocked as she leaned away from him and clasped her hands together in worry.
"Forgive me, I, I'm never so impulsive, forgive me," she murmured as she nervously tucked her hair behind her pointed ear and stood shakily from the couch. Fenris was finally recovering from the shock, and in a second, fully gave in to the whims and wants of his limbs.
His hand darted out and grasped her wrist, and after seeing a second of her surprised widened eyes, he stood and engulfed her in his arms, keeping her there. He felt her gasp, and then he lowered his face to hers and kissed her back, the muscles of his heart unraveling from how she felt in his arms, and how she returned the kiss assuredly. She moved her lips against his and tilted her head, and he tightened his arms, completely overcome with these sensations caused by the smallest of her movements. He held her to him securely with a hand on her back and the other rested on the back of her neck, absolutely loving how soft her hair and skin was. So this is what I've been wanting all of this time, what I desire when she looks at me, what I think of when we're so close...
She pulled away only slightly, and they both breathed from feeling slightly out of breath, but he kept her firmly in his arms. He met her eyes and blinked when he saw how alive they were, like in the middle of battle. He realized his heart was hammering like he had been fighting the most intense battle, and his reflexes and senses were on high sensitivity.
She smiled at him then, all of the lines on her face melting away to reveal a pure happiness, and his breath caught at how utterly beautiful she was.
He couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to as he kissed her once again, and he felt her whole frame soften in his arms as she kissed him back, and he held her tighter to him, never having really been able to appreciate how wonderful close human contact can feel with someone you trust. She clutched the cloth of his tunic on his back, and he froze when she parted her lips and lightly nipped his lower lip, causing a ripple of shock to jolt down his spine.
He tasted her lips, and he felt something in his lower core move from how heated their kissing was. Time didn't exist when he was with her; they could have been standing there for a minute or an hour and he would not know. All he did know was that no one had ever made him feel so aroused, so eager to kiss her more, kiss her here, kiss her elsewhere...
She pulled away once again but instead of leaving his embrace, she rested her forehead against him, fitting her face into the crook of his neck. He felt her lips brush against his collarbone, and he shivered at the intimacy.
"I have to tell you something," she whispered to him, and he breathed and nodded, releasing his firm hold on her and giving her a foot of space. They sat back down on the couch, but this time facing each other, and keeping their hands intertwined. He stared at her and noticed her blushing cheeks, and she breathed in deeply, her eyes sobering, and her brow deepening into a frown. Something was weighing on her, and he stayed silent, allowing her the space to unload whatever it was she needed to. She sighed and set her shoulders, and he watched the determined strength she carries in her fighting stance come to her now, though she was only sitting on a couch. He felt the gravity of whatever she was thinking about, and he frowned, worried for her. In only a short moment, the vibe in the room changed from one so pleasant to one absolutely not.
"I have a son."
She looked over and stared at the fire, and as she said those words, he watched something die in her eyes.
He blinked and said the words over in his head, not quite believing them.
"He would be one and a half, come this month." she said the words monotonously, and he stared at her, never hearing that tone from her ever before. She finally met his eyes, and he looked into the gaze of someone who held an ocean of pain and regret, and he felt something stab his heart at the severity of her expression. He had absolutely no idea of what to say, so he simply waited. She continued, slowly.
"I am about to unload all of my past and burdens onto you, and I want you to know that you can ask me to stop or leave at any time." She stared at him and waited for him to nod in understanding. "I told you I played a part in the war against the Blight in Ferelden, but I kept many things hidden."
She stared into the fire, and he watched her mind leave this room.
"You know I grew up in a clan, in the middle of a dense forest. One day my friend Hamlen and I were hunting, shortly after I had earned my place as a hunter among the clan." She glanced at him, and quickly glanced away. He sensed an enormous amount of shame coming from her then, but only for a second, since she immediately covered it up. He blinked in confusion but she continued. "We came across old ruins, and that was where I met my first darkspawn, and when I watched my first death of a friend."
She sighed heavily. "That was when I met Duncan, and traveled with him to Ostagar to fight in my first war. I met Alistair, and he assisted in my joining." She glanced at him. "My joining, to become a Grey Warden."
He stared at her. She had so much pain in her expression, so much history, she looked much older than her early twenties.
"I traveled with him and other companions across Ferelden, visiting all the races and all the factions, building an army to defend the people against the Blight. That year felt longer than many lifetimes. Every day was survival; battling for my life and the lives of everyone I loved, and everyone else in the world. When I wasn't killing, I was mediating politicians with black souls so dark and selfish it was hard to continue fighting for them."
She stared into the fire, and her hardened eyes began to glisten.
"I wasn't just companions with Alistair." She closed her eyes painfully. "He helped shed some light in a completely dark life, and he was very important to me. So much so that, when we found out that in order to end a Blight, one of us had to sacrifice ourselves to kill the archdemon, I vowed to give my life in so he could serve Ferelden as King."
Her tears broke then, streaming down her cheeks.
"But our friend, a witch of the wilds offered us another way. A way where neither of us would have to give our lives to end the Blight. A way that required me… to kill the archdemon, while carrying a child. His child."
She began to shake and she swallowed down her sobs.
"I didn't want to, I refused at first, but Alistair begged me to, so that we both might live. We performed an ancient ritual known to the witch, one I wish to never speak of again. When I killed the archdemon with the final blow, I felt its essence try and take me as its vessel. But it was redirected… to the life blooming in my stomach."
Fenris exhaled and took a deep breath in when he realized he had been holding it. He had never heard of such things before.
"The archdemon was killed, finally, through my unborn son, and he now holds the soul of an Old God." Her tears became so thick, she blinked often to try and focus on him. "I stayed with Alistair during the pregnancy, but in secret. The human nobles who control Ferelden explained to me the danger of the King having an elven consort with a half-elven bastard child." He watched anger enter her distraught face. "While neither I nor the King have shame in our half-elven child, the country is not ready for that. Ferelden has progressed much with the alliances formed, but they were formed out of necessity, and not formed with understanding. The people would never accept me, a Dalish elf, as a leader, and I would have only been a detriment to Alistair's reign and the health of the nation if I had stayed."
She bowed her head and hugged herself tightly. "And so I am banished, after having grown up in Ferelden, after fighting and sacrificing everything I have for Ferelden, I am banished from there for political reasons. And I am banished from ever seeing my own son."
Her tears fell freely, but her face was complete defeat. Fenris had never seen nor heard anything like this before, so they stayed in silence for a few minutes for him to process. The only sounds were the fire crackling and her soft sobs, and he finally broke the silence.
"This whole time… this whole time, you've lived in this punishing city, you've fought for your survival and the survival of others, this whole time we've known you, and you are the legendary Hero of Ferelden?"
She just nodded, not meeting his eyes. He had never seen her show such shame before. She was withering like a dying flower, the strength and positivity she was known for just, gone. She breathed in deeply, her breath shaky, and she finally met his eyes. Her expression, she looked like she was expecting him to be angry with her, or disgusted. But he was only very confused, and very worried.
"You, didn't tell us, because…?"
She bowed her head and a tone of self disgust colored her speech. "I tell myself it's because of my loyalty to Ferelden. To spread the truth that the Hero was a female elf who bore the King a bastard child would only make his rule harder, and Ferelden needs a strong leader to point them in the right direction after the Blight tossed all sense of stability from the country." She paused. "But in all honesty, I also wanted a fresh start." She looked at him. "I don't want to be known as the Hero who was only good for giving the King a bastard and then disappearing to appease the humans."
She looked away then, disgust plain on her face. Fenris just stared. Many emotions passed through him; disbelief, betrayal, concern.
"Why tell me now? And who else knows?"
"No one else knows." She stared into the fire. "But I plan to tell them now, what with the events in Kirkwall escalating and the rest of the world turning their eyes here." She met his eyes, hers red from crying. "And you deserve to know. Even if this costs me your friendship and your trust, it was wrong of me to withhold so much of my past." She looked down, her fists clenching at her sides. "And there are things I can never tell you, still."
Fenris knew as much; Anders had already explained the secrets of the Grey Wardens. Then it hit him. His voice dropped an octave, his tone serious.
"Wait, if you're a… Anders said Grey Wardens don't live long…"
Lyra nodded absently. "Yes. I will probably hear my calling within the next decade and a half, since I have had extreme exposure to darkspawn, throughout the war. This fate also befalls the King."
That stumped him. He felt a very cold feeling enter his chest. She only has a decade to live?! "You are going to die, so soon?"
She looked up at him. "Yes, sooner than most. A Blight cannot end, without sacrifice. But in all honesty, we could die every day with our current lifestyles," she added, but he began to panic at the thought that she would never have a chance to grow old. Never have the chance to watch her children grow to be adults.
Hisgut twisted in pain, his fists clenched in anger, his vision blurred from the thought of all she has gone through. The tightness he felt in his chest was like nothing he'd felt before; anger flared up from the pain like a frantic flame, and he did nothing to quench it.
"You don't think that I should have known you are going to leave this world so soon? You didn't think to tell me, that you were… that you had… that you have a…" he felt his head swirl with fear. "How could you let me…" How could you let me have so much hope?
"I am so sorry." she whispered shakily, her eyes welling up again. "I was wrong, Fenris. I lied to you, and to everyone here I love."
He hated how beautiful she looked. He hated how much pain he was feeling in his chest from hearing her pain. He felt the anger that lived deep inside of him stir faster, and for the first time in a long time, he really let it.
"Did you even think about how everyone loves you? How everyone trusts you, hopes for you, thinks you are here for them?!" he couldn't stop. His vision was red with pain and fear. She silently cried and only listened to him. He couldn't take it.
"You can't just enter my life and make me feel, just to tell me… you… you don't have much time to live," he stopped, the anger subsiding as he watched her shake. Her face was stoic, yet her eyes streamed tears and her expression held so much regret he realized, she was probably thinking things much worse than he was saying to her. She waited for him to say more, but he hadn't the heart to. She had never looked so completely defenseless, so completely in defeat, and he couldn't add to it.
"I wronged everyone, for hiding my past. But I wronged you, more than the others." she whispered. He clenched his hands, anger turning to frustration. She had a life, in Ferelden. An important life, a life of a hero. She had a lover, in the human King. She had a son.
"I guess… I just need some time," he murmured, averting his eyes and lowering his voice. He saw her nod in his peripheral vision, and wipe away her fresh tears. She stood from the couch then, and made to leave. He felt his chest tighten as she left silently, but he didn't say anything. He reached for the bottle they had brought, and downed it.