A/N: Warning. Kinda intimate moment with Hawke/Fenris –and featuring flasbacks of Fenris' mistreatment from the Magister
BioWare own everything! I'm just playing in their dragon and darkspawn-filled sandbox.
Chapter 11 - Past Demons
A lot happened in the 5 months that followed and Leto struggled to wrap his head (and/or heart) around the situation he'd somehow got himself in.
Carver's words 'because I love you, Leto', that look of sincerity painted onto his pale features and the surprise, fear, shame and sadness darkening those tired bloodshot ocean blue eyes often echoed in his thoughts and sometimes invaded his dreams.
The more he thought on it the more he found himself believing that those words held a hidden secret that had accidently slipped out and was almost covered up successfully.
The gears of his mind kept coming back to the same conclusion. But it couldn't be true. Carver was as straight as a wooden plank. He ate like an animal and drank like a war veteran, talked of sports, battle, girls and what his future family would be like. He walked with an arrogant strut but he was a complete gentleman to the ladies. He was that guy that no matter how drunk he was he'd knock a guy's teeth out for advancing on a girl who didn't want the attention.
He started second-guessing the little things Carver always did. The Swordsman had taken to walking so close their armour bumped together every few strides and him forever landing sneaky touches to his arms, shoulder or whatever body part the younger dark-haired boy could get away with 'accidently' brushing as he past or as he talked with his hands.
He wondered if these were a natural tic to the boy's personality, to be friendly and offer comfort but never coddle him or was he going out of his way to do so to subtly hint at his secret affection for the elf.
He had been thinking on it too much The Fade created illusions and dreams while he slept of what it could have been like if the youngest Hawke had made a move first…. He woke in a sweat his scars glowing a deep blue hue
He sometimes caught Carver (pretending he wasn't) watching him intently as if the elf moved too far from sight he would wonder over another waterfall. He never pointed out or let on that he ever noticed and just let the boy eyes follow him like a hawk (pardon the pun) he'd never say it out loud but he felt a lot safer knowing Carver's constant gaze was always on the look-out for any harm that could come to him.
He started returning those fleeting touches he wasn't exactly sure why – in a way wasn't this cheating on Hawke thinking of her brother in that way? Was it to prove to himself he was right in his suspicions? So he could smirk inwardly at the breath hitch or the goosebumps springing up on the Swordsman skin beneath his touch.
But he couldn't help it - damn Carver why did he have to grow up to be such an… attractive young man. There was just something slowly drawing him in like a moth to a flame, a voice in the back of his head whispering to him to touch, to hold, and to make the raven-haired, stony faced and angst riddled boy smile so much his sapphire eyes sparkled like the gems they are.
The Maker sure had a strange sense of humour putting him at the peak of this odd little 'love triangle' after everything that has happened to him. Maybe the Maker wasn't trying to humour him with this twisted feeling of his heart slowly being divided between the two maybe he was just being sent an abundance luck and love to make up for the years he those things had been way out of his reach.
One thing he could not understand was the youngest Hawke's fascination with his hair whenever the boy got a few drinks in him.
Leto raised a brow in silent question at the drunk male twin who had just been plucking at something in his hair as he staggered out of Dane's Refuge. "There was a… leaf in yer 'air" Carver slurred, that almost-innocent sleepy lopsided smile plastered on his face.
The elf raised his brow further; he knew nothing had fallen on his head "It was a small one. Sah small dem big eyes ca'not even see eet" He rolled his eyes at the younger male "oh…kay maybe methinks just a shad'w"
His relationship with Hawke had been taking baby-steps forward (but they were big steps – leaps even – for Leto) Public displays of affection was something Hawke wanted to both show off to the other girls what she had scored and use the elf as a shield of sorts against the men that still chased after her. The elf took the first few who challenged him out with a single lazy punch much to the twins' amusement. He kept it to as much of a minimum as possible, he did not want to upset the blue-eyed Hawke. Carver had witnessed them once before and the look of hurt on his face before he turned on his heal stung Leto, and the sounds of the young Swordsman retching outside made his own stomach lurch.
He started to let the mages hands snake under the thin fabric of his shirt, running over and massaging his back and shoulders as they made out. He couldn't stop the shudder every time smooth fingertips grazed over the scars left by the Magister and his torture devices. He didn't want her to stop though, he wanted to feel that tiny glimpse at happiness that tangles in your gut when the one kissing you cares about you.
He was quick to figuring out just how oblivious Hawke was to the fact that sometimes it was his dark past that was sparking the shivers and soft whimpers and not her. He wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing, he was leaning more towards the latter.
He had on occasion been the instigator of it all like he was tonight. A hungry fire in his belly – adrenalin from his intense sparring match with the male Hawke still running through him, propelling him forward. He fought for dominance in these kisses instead of passively letting the mage lead, his hands roaming everywhere they could reach without his mind directing them.
He smirked at how the surprised Hawke melted and moaned under his advances. Hawkes shirt was lost at some point neither of them knowing which one removed it. He ushered her forwards by the hips, while he stepped backwards the two of them stepping in unison towards the bed until his long elven legs hit the frame of it.
The two of them fell onto the mattress, the elf onto his rear and the mage landing gracefully to straddle his thighs.
A look passed between them, Hawkes delicate golden eyebrow raised slightly in question as she fingered the hem of his white tunic. He bit the inside of his cheek as he nodded and let her peel the sweat-soaked fabric over his head. When he heard the soft 'thunk' of the material hitting the ground and felt Hawke's eyes on this section of skin for the first time he wished the fabric still clung to him that insecurity and hesitance coming back to him over-ridding the lingering adrenalin.
"Maker…." Hawke breathed, her golden orbs trailing over all the toned tanned skin covered in a splattering of scars before her. That muscled chest and slightly bulking shoulders, that chiselled six-pack laced with a thin dark trail of hair descending down until it disappeared under the waistband of his trousers. It was more than she could ever have imagined even after all those years fantasizing about what lie beneath the armour. She never thought an elf could ever pack this much muscle and still manage to keep himself upright on those long thin legs.
"Hawke" his voice lower and slightly more rigid than usual as he shifted uncomfortably under her stare, turning his head slightly away an old habit resurfacing "…Please stop staring at me"
She pushed the elf down onto his back, laying flush against him smiling at the small noise the elf made when her breasts came in contact with his chest. She captured his mouth once and then started to lay a trail of kisses down the elf's neck, sucking on his collar bone before moving down the dark skin of his sculpted torso, the muscles rippled under her tongue as she dragged it back up the path she had come down.
Leto made a face and groaned at the taste of his own sweat on Hawkes tongue when it made contact with his again.
Hawkes smooth fingers kneaded at his pectoral muscles and pinched at his nipples. His mind wondered, momentarily imagining what the calloused hands of the young warrior would feel like instead of the silky feel of the mages'. He surprised himself when he arched into the touch and moaned into Hawkes mouth.
One of her hands snuck lower and lower heading towards the space between his legs while she had the top half of him distracted. Her fingertips very slowly slid under the waistband of his trousers Hawke was sure this heated moment was going to lead her to finally getting laid when she grazed the coarse hair and slightly swollen flesh beneath his small clothes.
But it all went spiralling downhill.
The light was sucked from the room. He was in the dark torture chamber of his master's dungeon. Danarius' face was smirking at him as he ripped the 11 year old elf's pants down to his ankles…
"No!" he howled, pushing Hawke off him and scurrying up the bed until his back collided with the headboard breathing heavily.
"Alright, alright." She made a frustrated groan "Just come back here and we'll go back to kissing and chest touching then"
His legs shoved apart, the Magister's clammy hands touching all over his bare chest…
"No! Stop it! no, no, no don't touch me.." He whimpers, cuddling his knees to his chest, his eyes clenched tightly shut, thrashing his head feverishly from side to side.
Hawke's disappointment was quickly overshadowed by concern for the distressed elf. She'd taken boys' virginity before and none of them ever reacted like this. Lost in the moment, driven by the instinct but something was seriously off here that she couldn't put her finger on.
"Leto? Shhh calm down. I know you wanna take this slow but –"
Danarius yanked him closer by the hips and mercilessly pushed his way in…
Leto's sudden tormented scream cut her off."Nooooo! Ahhhhrrrgh it hurts stop, No, no, no, no stop! Stop! Stop it!"
She felt tears burning in the corner of her eyes seeing her elf so much pain, so much sorrow and torment etched into his features. She wanted to pull Leto into her arms to comfort him but at the same time she didn't want to touch him in case he freaked out even further.
"Shhh. It's all right, you're okay." She said softly "It's okay, Shhh no one is going to hurt you"
Carver had told him one day to think of something that he finds calming and relaxing or something that makes him happy to chase away the nightmarish flashbacks.
He thought of running bare foot through grassy fields, sparring sessions with the boys, Danal's cooking and Carver's hands in his hair. He wasn't sure where the last thought came from but it made the dark torture chamber fade away from him and let it be replaced with his brightly lit bedroom with an upset, concerned Hawke looking at him.
He looked at her with a confused expression "Hawke? Why… Why are you looking at me like that?" Realization hit him the second after the words left his mouth. "Oh no…"
He put his face in his hands "You probably want an explanation for that. I – Uhh this is… difficult to say." He sighed roughly "Um….Carver said I should have told you earlier so you didn't freak so much if I did… that. I-I can't do this…. I thought I could, but I can't… it hurts to much to remember–"
"Carver?!" She cut in, her mind leaping to a disturbing conclusion "My brother he…? He did something to you didn't he? That sick twisted angry little shit!" She vented. "I knew he was hiding something from me. I will rip his balls off and choke him with them"
The Swordsman's favourite threat coming out of the mage's mouth, the elf probably would have laughed at how strange it sounded coming from a girl if his best friend wasn't just accused of being the one who raped him.
"What?! No!" he gasped, mortified she would even think of her brother would ever do such a thing. The Swordsman would never ever harm him, for all his muscle he was as gentle as a kitten but as protective as an alpha High Dragon of his clan. "Let me finish, you got it wrong. Carver loves me like a brother he would neverdo anything to harm me. Maker, why would you even think that….?"
She should know her youngest sibling takes his vow to The Maker seriously; he would stay pure until the day he died if he never found 'the one'.
And Leto was sure if Carver ever did admit his feelings the boy would happily stay pure for him if they could never be intimate as long as that meant he could stand by the elf's side forever like the most loyal Mabari in all of Thedas. He wasn't sure which dark corner of his mind the thought had come from but he knew in his heart that is was 100% truth.
The defensive tone in his voice plummeted into a small broken voice, looking away from Hawke and out the window "Back when I was a slave for years my master he – they –" he sighed and forced the words out of his mouth "They tied me down and forced themselves on me whenever the need called for it."
"Oh Maker! Leto…" She sobbed, "I'm so sorry I had no idea. That's so horrible" her mind zoned in on the words he'd said after the first time they'd kissed: "You have no idea what I've been through. How dare you call my past a fucking 'excuse'"
Her heart clenched, she had caused him pain, made him so uncomfortable, and worst of all she made him remember the one thing he tried so hard to forget. She was almost as bad as the bastard that did this to him.
"You have no idea how hard this is for me, Hawke. I don't think I will ever be able to make you happy." He shifted to the edge of the bed, picked up his shirt from the floor and stood up on an angle so the scars on his back did not enter the mages line of sight. She'd seen enough of him already tonight he did not want her to see any more. "I think it's best if I go"
She reached out to the only part of him she could reach, to halt him, her dainty fingertips touching the jagged scar on his right hip lightly. He flinched. "I don't want you to go. I care about you, and you do make me happy." She offered a smile, even though he was looking at the floorboards "We can work through this. I'll do anything, just please don't go, give this another chance?"
He remained silent, trying to collect his thoughts and put his wall back up over his emotions. That flashback had felt so real it made his stomach lurch and skin crawl.
"What a fool I have been. I was too blinded by your aura of sexy broody elf I didn't read the signs were practically clobbering my skull in" Hawke said sadly "All this time I thought you were being hesitant and kept flinching at my touch because of you being a virgin or your belief in The Maker and wanting to save yourself for the right time or something."
"I am sorry Hawke" he lifted his head to look over his bare shoulder at her "I did not wish to tell you this but you eventually would have found out the other half of the reason I could never let you see this… hideous expanse of flesh" the words were almost like venom as he motioned his torso before slipping the tunic over his head and crossing his arms over himself still feeling self-conscious and exposed even with the material now covering him
"Hideous?" Hawke repeated in disbelief, blinking at him. "Have you seen yourself? Leto your torso is like a piece of art sculpted by the Gods."
"Funny" He snorted, tugging at a loose thread on the base of his tunic "Carver told me the exact same thing once."
"Good to know my brother isn't blind then" She said a strangled humour in her voice, getting off the bed and side-stepping around Leto so she stood in front of him. She pulled him into a hug and started blubbering into his chest "I feel so horrible. I'm just as bad as the people that did this to you" she sobbed, fisting the material at his shoulders "I was so impatient with you I kept trying to get you drunk to loosen up so I could get laid. Maker how could I do that to you… after everything you've been through"
She had cried herself to sleep that night in his arms.
A part of him couldn't understand why she was bawling her eyes out over something that wasn't her burden. He had never shed a tear over it when it was happening to him he wouldn't give the Magister and his cronies that satisfaction, his iron will let him hold it in even if the unshed tears were like acid destroy him from the inside. He couldn't break. That wasn't an option.
A part annoyed that she didn't react like Carver had: wiping the single tear that escaped away with his thumb, an understanding nod, a reassuring smile and a comforting hand on his shoulder promising him he was safe here, that the raven-haired boy would always have his back and that the he would drive his sword through the sick bastards' heart if he ever crossed paths with him.
A part of him wanted to shove her off him because of how much he despised being coddled. And partly because of how uncomfortable it was to have a half-naked Hawke sleeping on him and that low window ledge digging into his spine, his neck and forehead aching from being pressed against the window until the break of dawn.
Hawke treated him like he was made of glass after that night. Those awkward touches like he would shatter into a thousand pieces under her fingertips and that look of pity in the golden depths held even when she was smiling at him for weeks after.
He didn't want to see that pity when he looked her way, because that reminds him that he has been broken.
He wished it could be how it was before she knew when she acted on impulse those dirty jokes casually slipping into conversation and her sneaking up on him with surprise kisses, hugs or push him up against something in whirl of drunken passion without the 'is it okay if I do this?' look before she did any of those things.
In the heat of those moments of her affectionate touches and almost-rough passionate kisses he could forget. Forget about the nagging pain in his hands from Hawke's mana humming wildly under her skin. Be distracted from his growing interest in the youngest Hawke. And sometimes he even forget his past.
If only for a short while