Hello all! Thank you to those who have stayed with me!
This chapter has a fair bit of angst in it, just thought I might preface it.
Thank you for reading, have a wonderful day :)
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"Fenris, just, please," Anders murmured as he glanced up to Hawke, silently asking for help. Hawke laid a hand on the agitated elf's shoulder, the three men cramped around a table holding the unconscious Lyra in the small corner of Ander's clinic. Fenris shrugged off Hawke's hand, but gently laid Lyra's hand down by her side before taking a few steps back to give Anders room. Anders stepped in and resumed his healing, his frown deepening as his glowing hands ran along her frame, trying to figure out what had caused her to be in this state. She was deadly pale; her skin had almost become transparent, her breath was coming short and her fingers were trembling.
Hawke could only compare her state to the state he once saw in an old man in the bowels of Darktown. Her symptoms were similar to those of someone going through drug withdrawal, though he dismissed that from what was causing her to be in this state. Hawke glanced over and watched Fenris pace back and forth, his frame more agitated than it had been when they had been in the outskirts of Kirkwall. He kept looking over at Lyra, his brows together in worry, his mouth a firm line in uncertainty. Hawke glanced down at the perfectly circular hole in Fenris's breastplate, with the telltale scarred, pink skin of newly healed flesh underneath.
Lyra is a mage… Hawke thought quietly to himself, glancing back to her collapsed form on the table, and recognizing now the signs of extreme magic fatigue. Bethany only pushed herself this far that one time Carver broke his leg… she had looked just like this; pale, trembling, utterly spent. Hawke's sharp blues passed over Fenris, the elf's fists clenched at his sides in distraught. Fenris must already suspect Lyra healed him.
"I… um…" Anders began, not knowing how to start, taking a step back from the table and shaking his head slightly in disbelief. His eyes flew to Fenris's, before they quickly came to meet Hawke's. "…Lyra, she's, she's going to be fine."
Fenris let out a breath, but Hawke still held Ander's serious gaze, waiting for him to finish. The blond mage sighed heavily before continuing in a low voice. "She should wake soon, after the lyrium potion I gave her. Her mana withdrawal is severe, but she will be fine."
He looked away only to stare at Fenris's abdomen, lost in thought. Hawke stared as well without trying, and Fenris fidgeted, his anger visibly growing by each passing second, his alert eyes flitting between the two men.
"Her, mana?" he asked in a quiet growl, his head shaking in denial, his eyes wide in fear. "You can't mean. You don't mean-"
Lyra gasped out loudly, causing them all to flinch, and she sat up too quickly on the table. Anders held her shoulders, calming her down.
"Lyra, take it slow, everything is alright."
Lyra looked around the room frantically, her eyes wide, her breath still coming short. "Fenris-! Anders, is he okay? Fenris, he-"
"I'm fine," Fenris said in a flat tone, and hearing his voice caused Lyra to shoot her head around to look behind her. She was still pale, still trembling, and Hawke watched the shock and tension of the room register in her expression.
The room was silent for a few painful moments. Lyra was frozen, Fenris wouldn't meet her gaze, and Hawke felt he couldn't breath in this thick tension. Lyra let out a sharp breath, and spoke in a strained whisper.
"I never told you," she started, and Fenris's shoulders dropped in defeat. Hawke hadn't seen him this serious. Lyra looked at him earnestly, her breath coming short, her arms trembling from the effort it took to hold herself up. "I should have told you-"
Fenris didn't say a word, he just turned and walked stiffly, passing her without looking at her. Anders stayed quiet in the corner, and Hawke's hand twitched to stop Fenris. But as he looked down at the elf's sullen face, his expression holding so much betrayal and pain, Hawke felt he might break Fenris's fragile state by lying a single finger on him. Lyra's breathing got worse, her words frantic.
"Fenris, please," she exclaimed, her fearful eyes tearing up, her voice shaking. Fenris left without a word, his dead calm scaring Hawke more than his anger ever did. Lyra's crying intensified, and she tried to get off the table, her weakened limbs failing at holding her up and making her fall. Hawke lunged, catching her before she hit the dirty floor of the clinic. She sobbed out painfully, shaking out of control in Hawke's arms, and Hawke helped her back onto the table as she slowly fell apart.
"I, I'm so sorry," she sobbed, meeting Hawke's gaze, the amount of regret and shame suffusing her expression making his eyes widen. "I should have told you, I should have, I'm so…"
She struggled to stay sitting upright, her tears falling heavily, her shaking intensifying. Anders came over to help Hawke help her to lie down on the table, her body giving out from the stress and exhaustion, her protests of apology fading as her consciousness did.
Hawke met Ander's gaze as she finally passed out completely, both the men still too shocked to say anything.
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"I'm about to break the door down," Varric muttered, glancing up to meet Hawke's eyes. They were standing outside the elf's mansion, both at a loss. Varric noted the bags under his friend's eyes, the sloped shoulders. The human was tired. Exhausted, from all the things he had taken on to protect a city that didn't give him shit. And now, their moody companion wouldn't talk to any of them, when they really needed him to talk, because Robin was not doing okay. Not at all.
"I'm thinking we smoke him out," Hawke said his joke monotonously, and Varric just looked at him, the humorous man missing his usual positive vibe. The whole gang's hurting.
"How is Robin doing, last you saw?" Varric asked quietly.
Hawke sighed and closed his eyes. "Last I saw, she was giving out food to the elves in the alienage, and building another contraption for their new clean water plumbing system she set up. Merrill says Lyra hasn't slept in two days; building and such, running around everywhere. Last time I asked Lyra how she was doing, she just smiled at me, waved her hand, and thanked me for worrying about her." He rubbed the back of his neck. "So in other words, she's not doing okay at all."
Varric shook his head and stared at Fenris's door, not really seeing it. "Damn it all, this whole thing should be a good thing. Finding out Lyra has healing magic just makes her that much more powerful, and all of us that much less likely to die. Add in that she is proficient enough in healing to save the elf from a hole blown through him. Though, she was in pretty bad shape after that."
"Fenris hates mages, that's no secret. But I think he's more upset she didn't tell us," Hawke spoke to the air. Varric nodded, agreeing.
"Can he blame her, though? She must've known she'd get this exact reaction from him."
Hawke looked thoughtful. "I asked her, why she didn't tell any of us. She said she was just used to ignoring that part of her, since she has hidden her magic ever since leaving her clan. That it had become habit, and there was no reason to bring it up."
"In this world, in this city, I don't blame her for keeping that little secret, even from us." Varric muttered, and Hawke nodded in agreement, his sister being taken away as a prisoner to the circle too fresh and painful in his heart still. He raised a fist and banged on the door again, and he sighed when there was no answer again.
"He's not ready to talk." Hawke looked down at Varric. "I say, we try on the other end. Stop Lyra before she works herself to death."
Varric nodded, then chuckled humorlessly. "This has to be the most dramatic coming out story possible."
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"Lyra, breathe," Hawke finally interrupted her. She was ranting about the new cleaner sewage system she designed for the alienage that will provide clean water for all the elves in the city. She paused and caught her breath, her fingers anxiously fidgeting with the pieces of steel mesh she was playing with to create water filters. They were sitting outside in the alienage, under the large oak in the center. Some elven children were playing on the side, throwing around a small ball with some sticks with nets that she had made for them in a Dalish game.
Hawke really looked at her, seeing her brain move in autopilot, as a form of coping with how overwhelmed she was probably feeling. Where Fenris shuts himself off from the world, she does the other extreme; throwing herself into service for others, though unhealthily.
"I apologize, I don't mean to rant," she looked away, and Hawke shook his head.
"Have you spoken with him, since?" he asked gently.
He watched what little forced light was in her eyes leave her blue-greens, breaking the mask that was hiding her well of fatigue. She shook her head.
"No. I don't think…" she swallowed. "I don't think he wants anything to do with me."
Hawke sighed and nodded. "I think he's angry. And I think pushing everyone and everything away is his only way to deal with it."
He watched her eyes begin to glisten from behind a curtain of red hair, but she blinked them away. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I lied to him." She met Hawke's eyes with her deep wells of sadness. "I lied to you."
He blinked at her. The regret in her eyes was so strong, the sadness and pain showing themselves so plainly on her face. He hadn't realized how expressive her eyes were, how they shined from under the lines of her Vallaslin and showed such genuine emotion. She breathed in deeply, meeting his eyes with her honest and soft ones.
"I kept something from you all. And it was dangerous. For all of us." She crossed her arms around her stomach and he could see the shame leak through the cracks in her mask. "I am so sorry, Hawke."
He breathed in heavily, his chest tight from seeing her so upset, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, feeling her muscles tensed from strain. She relaxed some, soaking in the care and understanding through his kind touch, and she breathed in deeply as well before meeting his eyes. He looked down at her for a second, then broke the eye contact, looking off into the distance.
"I don't blame you, at all, Lyra. If Bethany had had any other fighting skills, I would have wanted her to keep her magic a secret from as many people as possible, too. Your deception was for safety, and I know everyone will see that too, given time."
She let out a breath and sat very still next to him, like she was struggling to hold herself together. He didn't look down at her, but he knew she had started crying. Her voice was soft, like the light breeze that graced through the alienage. "I really, really appreciate that, Hawke."
They sat together for a few moments, his arm slung around her, just sitting under the shade of the tree, watching the neighborhood children play. One child, not more than six, finally caught the ball successfully in his net, and the other children stopped and let out excited cheers as he looked at his net in wonder. Hawke smiled to himself and felt Lyra's shoulders release some tension from under his arm, and he glanced down to see her wipe her eyes and smile softly at the sight. Hawke had noticed the new energy that filled the little steps of the elven kids now, and how they really threw themselves into their games and play. As kids should.
"It really is wonderful, the hope you have given these people." he mentioned, gesturing around them in the alienage, and she shook her head, breathing easier now.
"It's the least I can do. I grew up with such privilege, taken care of by the Dalish, and these children deserve the same health and love in their community."
Hawke glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow. "Only you would think of yourself as privileged, Lyra. You're an elven woman in a human city, and a mage in a world that fears them."
She chuckled, relaxing even more. "I suppose so. And you're an immigrant with magic in the immediate family; you're not much better off."
"That's true." he smiled as one of the children yelled to another to toss the ball.
"How are you doing, may I ask?" she asked softly, and he met her eyes, the light returning in her gaze slightly from her curiosity. "I keep my focus on the alienage. I can't imagine bearing the burden of the entire city."
Hawke sighed heavily, leaning back against the tree. He closed his eyes as he felt her lean back with him, resting back against his arm. He let the commanding mask slip off of him for a moment, letting his posture relax, and letting the anxieties surface.
"I'm pretty stressed, honestly." He felt her eyes on him, so he met them. "The Qunari, the circle, Bethany, the templars, my mother, the Viscount. Isabela." he sighed and shook his head. "It feels like everything just piles up, one after another, without any time to breathe."
She closed her eyes and settled against him comfortably. She spoke with her eyes closed, and for the first time since she returned from the Holding caves with Fenris, she seemed to fully relax, with most of the lines on her face melting. She spoke so softly, but since they were very close, he could hear her clearly.
"I always struggled at that part, in the Dalish meditations. Just… taking a second, letting all the stresses and worries in life lie still for a moment, and giving myself a space to breathe…" she raised her face to the sky, eyes still closed, and smiled to herself. "Would you like to try that, with me? Hide away from our responsibilities for a little while, sit beneath this beautiful oak, and breathe?"
Hawke felt his own face relax, and a smile formed. He settled back as well, and looked up at the high oak canopy, admiring how the leaves rustled in the wind, and how the sunlight peeped through the leaves and branches. For the first time in months, he focused on relaxing his muscles, and breathing steadily. He closed his eyes and sighed from contentment, realizing just how comfortable he was sitting next to this friend.
"Absolutely."
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"Uh, hello? Fearless leader? Robin?" Lyra heard vaguely before her pillow shifted behind her head. She blinked her eyes open to see a surprised dwarf above her, looking concerned.
"Are you two alright?" he asked, and Lyra turned when she realized she wasn't alone and her pillow had actually been a large arm. Just when she looked up to see who her companion was, she met his brilliant blue eyes, very close to hers, widened in surprise. Lyra still sat under Hawke's arm, though the sun had gone down considerably and they were under the gaze of a perplexed dwarf. They blinked at each other and Hawke cocked his head in confusion.
"Did we just… take, a nap?"
A smile broke on Lyra's face. "I think so?"
Together, they burst into laughter, startling elves walking nearby, and making Varric scratch his head in confusion. Hawke chuckled so much tears came to his eyes, his laughs hard and heavy, starting deep in his stomach. Lyra slapped his shoulder and covered her mouth.
"I was coming down here to check up on Robin, but I see you got that covered, Hawke," Varric said before he shook his head and reached down to help Lyra up. She was still giggling by the time they were both standing.
"Damn, who knew that was exactly what I needed? Sleeping like a bum in a public place?"
Hawke nodded in agreement. "I haven't felt this well rested in… years. Last time being, waking up in the middle of a field, still drunk, after a night out."
Lyra snickered. "I'm pretty sure the only time I've ever felt this relaxed was the night after we finally killed the archdemon."
"Wow, way to one me up," Hawke bumped into her, and she winked at him in tease. Varric shook his head.
"Well, while you two were sleeping, I got the elf out of his house and into the pub."
Hawke and Lyra's joking stopped and they both looked at him with wide eyes. Hawke spoke first.
"Really? He's there now?"
"Yep. I assigned Isabela to take care of him, make sure he drinks enough to be so plastered he can't tell up from down."
Hawke sighed, weight on his shoulders. "Well, she's good at that."
Lyra glanced at Hawke, noticing the tension, and noting to herself to ask him about it later. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Do you think...should I…?" Varric nodded.
"I say you come with. He's had days to stew."
Lyra nodded and breathed in deeply. "Alright. Thank you, both. I really appreciate your support, really."
Hawke nodded and Varric softened. "We need the gang back together, Robin. And we can't let-" Varric stared pointedly at Hawke, "-romance bullshit break us apart."
Both Lyra and Hawke froze and reddened from being outed for their perspective romances, looked away from Varric, and nodded. The dwarf sighed and made a fist, smiling determinedly and saying in an enthusiastic voice.
"Alright, human, elf, and dwarf, onto a night of messy drinking and desperation!" Varric looked at his two companions expectantly and glared at them when they stayed silent. "I said, onto a night of messy drinking and desperation!"
The two cheered half-heartedly in response, and then looked at each other and burst out laughing.
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"Isabela, I'm going to tell you one last time. Get your hands off me." Fenris growled, pushing away the groping hands of the drunken woman. She stumbled and laughed. He rolled his eyes and turned back to his drink, heavily overwhelmed by the noises and smells of the Hanged Man. He forced himself to breathe in, and for the hundredth time, glanced at the door, hoping beyond hope he wouldn't see the blue green eyes and red hair. This time, however, he did, and his stomach dropped and his heart beat faster. An icy grip clenched his gut.
Lier. Betrayer. Deceiver. Mage.
She found his eyes immediately, before Hawke and Varric had even entered the door, and he watched her brows upturn and her hands clasp together and she seemed to shrink into herself. He looked away, not able to look at her for longer than a few seconds without feeling sick.
She's been a mage this whole time. And I…
He downed the rest of his drink and decided to leave to the nearest exit. I can't do this. I can't… I can't even look at her. It hurt his chest too much.
He stood and strode away fast enough to dodge Isabela's hands, heading for the back door. He heard Hawke and Varric calling after him, but he blatantly ignored them. Coming here was a mistake.
He broke out of the bar and he inhaled deeply the fresh air, and headed home. He walked for a time to Hightown, thankful the streets were empty, with each step thinking more and more about her.
One year.
He clenched his hands into fists, his heart beating resolutely in his chest.
One whole year, she lead you on.
He felt his anger grow fast, like a fire catching on a sea of dead wood.
She didn't trust you.
She didn't trust you enough to tell you.
He stopped his trek to turn to the nearest wall and punch it, hard, causing the brick to crack and his knuckles to split.
"Fuck." he murmured to himself, bending down to grab some snow to help numb the pain and stop the bleeding. The sharp pain temporarily relieved his inner turmoil, only to be instantly worsened by the voice behind him.
"I don't suppose you'd like me to heal that," she asked quietly directly behind him, and he spun around, his heart stopping from her voice.
He stared at her for a few seconds, taking in her frame in the snow. Her shoulders were hunched and she was tensed, like she was bracing to take a blow. Her eyes were open and vulnerable. His gut twisted as he registered her question, and he glared.
"Right. Healing." He turned away and started towards Hightown. He couldn't hear her, but he wasn't surprised when she followed.
"I'm here to apologize, Fenris." she said softly behind him, and he set his shoulders. I can't do this.
"Don't bother. I don't want to hear it." he said these words much harsher than he meant to, but he didn't take them back.
"I lied to you."
He closed his eyes but continued walking.
"I lied to you, and everyone here I love."
He tried to ignore her, his ears straining to hear her as his stomach folded itself from the pain her voice caused him.
"And I was wrong to. It was selfish of me, because I was afraid you would never fall for me as a mage, I was terrified you would never trust me from the first night I met you. And that was wrong of me."
Her voice was breaking from the pain, from the shame. His chest felt so tight it was hard to breathe.
"There were plenty of times for me to tell you. Plenty. And I decided to hide it, because it was sweeter to live in hiding, it was nicer for you to see me as someone not tainted by magic. I was so, so afraid of you seeing me as just another weak-willed mage controlled by her emotions."
Her voice was raw, jagged, naked with harsh sincerity, but her vulnerability just felt like a sharp knife through his stomach. He knew she was crying. He could hear her. He blinked his eyes to keep the tears in, but walked on. Stop. Stop. Please, stop.
"I kept things from you, things I knew you should know, and that was manipulative of me. Fenris, I am so, so sorry, and now I know I am not just a dangerous mage, I am a lying dangerous mage, and I can't ask you to ever forgive that, I can't ask you to see me the same ever again, because I am so disgusted with myself that I refused to trust you with the truth, and I-"
He stopped her by turning around and grabbing her shoulders. Her cheeks were wet from her sobbing, her reddened eyes so sad he felt his heart lurch, but he stopped her, unable to hear any more.
"Stop. You-" he shook his head and clenched his hands. "Lyra, I'm losing my fucking mind. Do you have any idea-" he had to look away.
The sight of her tears gave him such a physical ache in his chest, but his anger spread and saturated his veins like the lyrium burned in his skin.
FUCK.
He lost all control. He lashed out in a yell, his voice raised to hide how close he was to falling apart.
"I've felt empty before, when I was a slave. But that's nothing compared to how you've made me feel. What was I? A pretty toy to play with?! Is that what all mages in my life will do with me? Did what we have mean nothing to you?!"
He stopped himself, knowing he didn't mean anything he just said. His anger knew exactly what to say to hurt her. He kept his eyes averted, knowing if he looked at her, he would crumble, completely. She didn't say anything to defend herself, and he silently fumed, his hand throbbing from his split knuckles, his heart pounding pain with every beat. He heard her intake a shaky breath, but her words were said with conviction.
"I may be a mage. But I am a mage that loves you."
Fenris's heart dropped to the floor, and the welled up tears in his eyes finally fell on his cheeks, even though his eyes were closed. He clenched his fists.
"I don't believe you anymore."
With that he turned away from her and took off at a sprint. He could never tell if she was following, but he suspected she wasn't. He ran until he somehow made it to the mansion, and immediately turned to the wall to his left. He punched it, hard, the shock jolting through his limbs and the pain giving him temporary reprieve, and then he punched it with his other fist, and he continued until the wall was splattered with blood. He couldn't quite see it, because the tears were freely flowing now, but he did notice the edges of his vision darkening and his balance becoming hard to keep. He felt himself fall backwards, and he vaguely realized he was passing out, just as he saw the red hair enter his vision.
However angry he was with her, however much pain he felt because of her, the last thing he felt before sinking to darkness was extreme relief she was near.