A good night's sleep could do wonders, or in this case, a good morning's sleep. It had been nearly dawn by the time Fenris fell into bed, and the bright light streaming through the curtains told it was nearly noon when he woke up. The lyrium still burned, but it was closer to what he was used to, tolerable. The events of the night before were fresh in his mind, but the fear was gone. Hawke was alive, and he was going to talk to her.
Fenris realized that Hawke was likely in her diplomatic meetings already, and began to make a list in his head of other things he needed to do. He should go down to the hall and get something to eat. He should go to the blacksmith to inquire about decent armor. He should go thank the guardsman.
As he stepped out of his room, however, all those things faded from his mind. There was Hawke. She was asleep, back against the door, huddled under a blanket on the floor. For a long moment, Fenris just stared at her, unable to figure out why she would do such a thing. He ran his hand idly through the hair on the back of his neck. He felt like he should move her to her bed or at least one of the comfortable chairs, but that would likely wake her and may well get him stabbed. It was a bad idea to surprise a woman like Hawke.
Just as Fenris had decided to let her sleep, Hawke began to stir. She stretched and yawned, oblivious to his presence. She startled a bit when she opened her eyes and saw him standing there.
"Fenris…"
He smirked. "Why are you sleeping there?"
The words tumbled from her lips with increasing speed and anxiety. "At first, I figured you were just tired and grumpy, so I let you be. I had to go see the guardsmen. I even ran into King Alistair there. I suppose a missing guest gets even kings out of bed. I gave him the quick version of things and came back here to get washed up. While I was doing that, I started to worry that maybe I had upset you. I know I shouldn't have forced the healer on you. I acted like I was leading a mission, like before, but that's not what this is. I wanted to apologize, but you were already soundly asleep and I was dead on my feet.
"I was going to go to bed, but then I started to worry that you had been quiet because you were quite angry with me. The more I thought about it, the more sure I was that I had done something to really bother you, aside from the healer. I started to worry that you might be fed up with this whole trip, that you might just… leave. So, I decided I should sleep here to make sure you I could at least talk to you. Anyway… For the healer, and whatever else I did… I'm sorry…"
Fenris paused, wanting to make sure she was finished. She moved to stand, but he crouched down in front of her and she stilled.
"Hawke," Fenris began, a small, unconscious smile on his face. "First, thank you for the healer. I wouldn't use the word grumpy, but I truly had no energy left to deal with a mage at that point. Second, I was angry with myself, not you. You… I'm too happy you're alive to be mad at you. Third… Hawke, I could never leave you like that."
Something in Hawke's eyes lit up. "You said that… while you were sick. I assumed it was the fever talking."
Fenris shook his head. "No, it's true. The only way I could leave is if you demanded I go… and even then I can't guarantee I would listen."
The disbelief on Hawke's face faded, replaced by a warm smile.
Fenris knew… he knew that his past had left him with a darkness that would never quite fade, an anger that would never quite quell, a pain that would never quite heal. But dammit Hawke made those things bearable. Hawke gave him a sort of quiet peace he couldn't imagine finding anywhere else. It was enough to make him risk the pain and the failure that might come from him wanting something he struggled to convince himself he deserved. He wanted to be happy… and for that, he needed Hawke.
"Fourth," Fenris continued, "and this is important, so listen." He paused, still nervous despite his resolve. "I love you."
"You…?"
Hawke fell silent as Fenris leaned in and kissed her. He didn't intend to put any heat behind the kiss, just physical confirmation of his feelings. He wanted to be sure she couldn't misunderstand his words, but Maker, she was kissing him back… He pressed forward, until she was back against the door, and…
The sharp knock on the door startled them both.
"Viscount!" called an unfamiliar voice. "The King would like to see you and Messere Fenris at your earliest convenience."
Fenris growled. So it wasn't just the Kirkwall City Guard that had horrible timing, it seemed an affliction of the entire human race. Hawke looked at Fenris with one eyebrow raised, silently asking his opinion. It was the King of Ferelden, after all. With a sigh, Fenris waved his hand dismissively and backed away from her.
"That…" Hawke called, pausing to clear her throat, "That's fine. We'll be there shortly."
"I shall let him know," the stranger replied. Now that he wasn't distracted, Fenris could hear the thud of the stranger's boots as he walked away.
Hawke turned to Fenris. She still wore an amused smile, but her eyes were apologetic. She put a hand gently to the side of his face, fingertips brushing his hair. "We will come back to this later," she said softly.
...
"Oooh," Alistair called, "This one has a wolf! Or is that too much? It's too much, isn't it?"
Fenris glanced at the armor and recoiled. It was possibly the most ostentatious armor he'd ever seen.
"I assume we're looking for something a bit more practical,' Hawke chuckled.
"Indeed…" Fenris agreed.
Alistair laughed. "Oh come on, it's not… No, it is that bad."
Of all the things King Alistair could have called them to do, searching the royal vaults for armor was not something Fenris would complain about. The armor would be his, supposedly a gift for dealing with the blood mage swiftly and discretely. It was true, with so many dignitaries at the castle to discuss the mage problem, Hawke's ordeal would have only inflamed tempers. Still, Fenris could tell that Alistair himself was eager to take a day off from the discussions.
"This one looks very nice," Hawke began, "but Maker… Where did they find a person large enough to wear it?"
"Ah, that probably belonged to my great-great-uncle Ser Ollar the Vast," Alistair chuckled.
"Vast is an understatement," Fenris remarked.
Hawke laughed. "Fenris, I think you and Alistair both could fit in this at the same time."
Fenris smiled and shook his head. He couldn't help that he was more focused on Hawke than the armor. She was alive. She had heard his feelings. She had accepted his kiss. She had kissed him back. Now, she was laughing, happy.
"Maybe I should ask the caretakers to organize the armor by size," Alistair mused. "They can put gigantic relatives on one end, elven heroes on the other. I am sorry Ferelden kings of yore didn't keep more elf-fitted armor around. If we don't find anything, the blacksmiths can always make you something."
"No need to be sorry, you're the one helping me," Fenris commented, turning his attention to the armor again. His eye caught a glint from the lamplight, and he pushed a heavy, dragon-emblazoned shield aside to get a better look. The size and weight were right, even the articulation in the plating would work well, allowing him to move as he was used to. Fenris tried on a gauntlet, lighting the lyrium in his skin just long enough to test the way the material shifted with him.
The telltale blue glow attracted Hawke's attention. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes," Fenris replied. "I was just testing this armor."
Hawke looked at the armor and smiled. "That would suit you quite well, even the color."
Fenris hadn't noticed the color. At first, the armor just looked black, but now that he had pulled it out into the light, there was a subtle green tint. The green color was uncommon, but he had seen it before. He didn't dislike it.
"Oh? Did we find something?" Alistair asked.
"Tentatively," Fenris answered. He still wanted to test the hardness of the plates, and the leather parts would likely need to be replaced after being stored for so long.
Hawke nodded. "It would be good to know more about it, especially because that's not a common color. We all know how much trouble one red sword caused in Kirkwall."
"I'll have the right people look over it to make sure it's not haunted or anything," Alistair assured them. "They can make any necessary repairs as well."
Fenris nodded. "I would appreciate that."
...
For Hawke, things felt a bit surreal. Even as she went through the day, checking in on guardsman Gavin, eating meals, hunting for armor, the kiss kept bubbling up in her mind. Questions surfaced as well. How long had Fenris felt this way? Where did they go from here?
One question, however, didn't occur to Hawke until much later in the day. Fenris loved her, but did she love Fenris? Of course she loved him as a friend, at least as much as she loved Varric and Aveline. She would go into battle with him, go into battle for him. Then again, she would do that for any of her companions. The obvious difference was that she was clearly attracted to Fenris. Was that enough, friendship and attraction? Hawke's mind dredged up a new question. Did she love him like she had loved Anders?
That was a question she felt guilty just asking. The answer was no. It wasn't the same at all. It had taken Anders's final betrayal to see it, but he was never quite honest with her. She felt he had always held back, always looked back. Nothing she did could sway him, help him, save him. That was what she had wanted all along, wasn't it… to save him? She would have stayed her hand at the end if he had just asked to be forgiven. Instead he was more than ready to die, more than happy to have her wield the knife. Maker, what kind of love was that?
On the surface, Fenris might have seemed the same. He was a man with a troubled past, with demons in his head and at his heels. Even so, Hawke knew Fenris was different. She was there when Fenris at last killed Danarius, and she was there afterwards, when he realized that vengeance only tasted like ashes. Everything he had done from that point on only served to move him forward. He was to be admired, not pitied. No, Hawke didn't need to save him, he had already saved himself.
If Fenris loved her, it wasn't because she had pursued or offered, it was because he wanted to love her. The wave of delight that thought sent through her was proof enough. Yes, Hawke loved Fenris. She wanted to spend her days talking with him. Laughing or arguing, it didn't actually matter. She wanted to be close to him. She wanted to kiss him again.
Yes, that would make Hawke happy.
