Chapter 3
Fallen
The sun's warmth flowed over him in a calming caress as he lounged, easing his tense muscles and soothing his doubts.
Fenris had been worried to travel with Hawke after last night; worried that he wouldn't be able to deal with the imagined memories of his dreams. More dreams of her. And he'd spent most of the night pacing his dark mansion, uncertain of where these new intense feelings had come from; uncertain whether or not he should go with her to Sundermont.
But his fears had been for nothing. The rolling green hills surrounding the mountain and the warm sunlight of the early spring day erased whatever fears he'd had.
They'd arrived at the Dalish camp early, and the Hunters weren't yet ready for the mission. They'd had extra time, it was a beautiful day, and so they were spending the morning wisely– doing nothing.
Fenris was used to waiting. Waiting for Danarius's orders, waiting for Danarius to come for him again, waiting to be truly free. But waiting had never been this pleasant.
Hawke was sprawled a few feet away from him, stretched out on one of the blankets they'd borrowed, her eyes closed. The woman was always respectful of his aversion to people being too near so she'd made sure to keep a comfortable distance. She was so relaxed; so peaceful. Fenris didn't know if she was asleep, but he'd never gotten the chance to see her like this. He couldn't keep his eyes off her.
Her confident leisure was something he'd never known. Completely confident, completely sound – completely free. Rosy lips parted slightly, and dark lashes dusted her cheeks as dark locks feathered across her face, hair that would be soft as silk if only he were brave enough to reach out. Her chest rose and fell in a slow and steady rhythm as her quiet breathing lulled him. It was profound, the trust she showed him. He'd never allowed himself to be so relaxed around another and he savored the moment.
As he watched her doze his own lids grew heavy. He was weary, tired from two nights of haunting dreams and little sleep. When she'd left him last night he'd been filled with warmth – their near kiss still set his heart pounding– and he'd looked forward to a pleasant sleep.
But it'd been far more than pleasant.
Just like the night before he'd dreamed of her full lips, her passionate kisses.
Only this time they hadn't seemed content to stay locked with his and had wandered, moving with soft nips and licks down his neck. Urgent and wanton as they worked gasps and shudders from him. Her moans and sighs had shot through him with a primal intensity and wandering hands roamed farther than they had the previous night. A gentle nip to his ear, the tickle of her silky hair brushing his arms, the arch of her body against his. It'd been overwhelming – and wonderful.
Almost as wonderful as their current leisure.
But this was better.
Fenris couldn't feel guilty about this. Couldn't question where the feelings and sensations had come from because there was just this moment, just the sun and the grass and Hawke relaxed and happy beside him. There was nothing that could ruin –
"Hawke!" Her eyes flew open, startled from her light doze. It was Merril. The reclining woman looked blearily over to Fenris who was surprisingly still stretched out beside her. And annoyed. He obviously wasn't happy that their relaxation time was over. A soft sigh said she sympathized.
"Ha-wke!" Merril's sing-song voice called out again.
She groaned as she rolled to her stomach. "Coming!" she called. With reluctance resounding from the former peace she reached for her grieves and boots, and was happily surprised to see Fenris slowed with the same drowsy hesitation. He rubbed his eyes before slipping on his sharp gloves. She smiled at him, surprised with his uncharacteristic behavior.
This little break had been good for the elf; he'd been so weary on the hike here. His steps had been slower than usual and his atypical lethargy had worried Hawke.
There was no worry now. While she doubted if he'd actually slept – the elf was far too guarded to sleep in such an open area – she didn't doubt he'd appreciated the down time. She'd never seen him relax before; he was always the one on guard, keeping watch over them as they traveled. It was nice to know he'd let down his guard around her.
It was even nicer to know that he'd enjoyed it.
Standing stiffly she stretched, lifting her arms above her head and sighing deeply as her muscles pleasantly pulled. And watched curiously as red crept onto the elf's high cheekbones. Fenris was blushing.
That was unexpected. She'd never really noticed him blush before; but he definitely was now. What was he-
"Hawke!"
"Ugh!" she groaned. "I said I'm coming!" she yelled to the anxious Merril as she shook her head and ran her fingers through her slightly disheveled hair, then dropped to roll up her blanket. Fenris was already done and waiting and he fell into step beside her as they walked back to the Dalish camp.
When Merril saw them she ran over, far too awake and excited to be welcomed warmly by the drowsy pair; Fenris openly glared at her. Blood mages always ruined everything.
"Hawke," she greeted with a nod and a wide smile. "The hunters are ready." She grabbed Hawke's hand and pulled her towards the small group of Dalish men. Fenris's back straightened when he saw the contact. The twisting feeling was back, clawing at his gut; it was just a fraction of what he felt when Anders was with her, but it was still there. He didn't understand it, but it definitely set him on edge as he followed Hawke and the Hunters as they set out up the trail towards more hazardous hills.
Hills where Tal Varshoth had appeared. Apparently the Qunari renegades had started to push inland, wreaking havoc as they went. Now they were encroaching on the elves' camp and the Dalish Hunters planned on dealing with the threat to their clan promptly. When Merril had heard of the mission she'd asked Hawke to help, and now with keeper Marathari's permission, they joined the hunt.
Sundermont was a strange place, with warm sunny hills just a short distance away from the pressing chilled air of haunted peaks. As they hiked clouds blew in and the world was cast in grey. The drastic change from the earlier sunny warmth was enough to set them all on edge. The hunters' shoulders were tight, and everyone was quiet.
Except Merril and her nervous babbling didn't help the tension in the air.
Somehow she'd decided that teaching Hawke her clan's history was a good way of diffusing the anxiety of the group and with as much tact as Isabela propositioning she rambled on and on. Her open divulgence of their secrets was not welcomed by the Hunters, and as the unnatural chill in the air grew so did their anger.
It was obvious that the Hunters did not enjoy the company of their former first turned blood mage and a shemlen. Hawke wanted no quarrel with the people so she tried her best to smile and avoid the frosty glares, sticking close to Fenris who took everything with his usual calm stoicism. She'd missed him over the past couple of months, and it was nice to have his silent comfort back for this long hike.
The path took them out of the encroaching trees and to a cliff overlooking a hidden gulley, a river raged in its bed, and the heavy mist rising from its churning waters chilled the air even more, adding an uncomfortable thickness. The small group wove their way through the large weathered boulders littering the ledge and Hawke shivered, rubbing her chilled arms as she surveyed the area, unnerved with the silence of this place. She would have thought to hear birds, or some other wild animals in a haven such as this, but there was nothing. All of Sundermont was hushed.
It was on that chilly and silent ledge that Merril decided Hawke and the Hunters should be better acquainted. She was sure that if her former clan members would only get to know the Hawke she knew, their trepidations and anger would disappear in an instant. "Hawke," she said grabbing the young woman's attention before beginning introductions. "This is Paul. He's the best Hunter of our clan. And very kind." He didn't look kind to Hawke, his deep frown and raging eyes almost matched Fenris's annoyed glares at Merril. Almost. Hawke gave an awkward little smile and wave at the man as Merril babbled on. "His wife is Ilsa, and she's expecting her first babe soon. How's she doing by the way? I'm sure she's fine. Keeper Marathari always takes good care of expectant mothers. And Paul is a very good husband to her."
She pointed out a taller Hunter with vivid blue eyes, iced over in irritation. "And this is Derikk-"
"She doesn't need to hear our names from you," spat the blue eyed elf as he took a dangerous step forward. "It's enough that you're here unwanted, we don't need to hear your voice con-"
A spear cut his sentence off, and came close to claiming his head. The missile harmlessly bounced off one of the nearby boulders and its clattering fall down the gulley was followed by the din of ferocious battle cries. The Tal Varsoth had found them.
The renegades were upon them in seconds, and the Hunters were not prepared for the ambush as chaos erupted. Several fell, while their comrades were able to draw their blades just in time. Merril's magic hissed and crackled in the air, and Hawke spun and twisted away from swiping axes and blades.
They were not in a good position for this attack, the large boulders, smooth and close together, made combat almost impossible in the area. Fenris realized the direness of their predicament, and as his markings ached with Merril's magic he watched in horror as the Tal Varshoth realized it too.
The large creatures quickly drew back from the tight spaces and Fenris knew what they were planning.
Quickly he scrambled around a boulder pressing his back against the smooth stone as spears rained down upon the trapped Hunters. One unfortunate fell next to Fenris, his eyes wide and staring. As missiles clicked rapidly off the stones around him he searched frantically for Hawke. Panic flooded him at the idea of her dead in this cold place; he would never forgive himself if she fell. His heart beat frantically as he dared to peek around the rounded edge of his boulder. And found her.
She was near the edge of the cliff, ducking and dodging well aimed spears. Their eyes locked and he gestured for her to come to him, to get out of the line of fire. It was an invitation she didn't question.
Fenris watched in horror as she hurried towards him, jumping away just as a spear struck near her foot. Her balance upset by the flying missiles, she stumbled to right herself, and in one horrible instant, the stunned elf watched the damp stones and soaked earth give out beneath her. With a sharp cry that fell on ringing ears, she slipped over the edge.
And was gone.
Breath wouldn't come to him. His heart stopped, frozen with shock as he stared at the spot where she'd vanished.
But when she didn't reappear it started pounding, feeding a cold horror into his veins that Fenris had never known. Without thinking and without hearing the din of battle all around him he stood on unsteady legs and staggered over to the place she'd fallen.
Into the river.
The cold mist from the rapids made the air thick and wet; hard to breathe, hard to see. But he searched, frantically watching the churning waters, desperately hoping to find her, desperately hoping those cold torrents hadn't taken her from him.
Distantly he heard Merril cry out to him as spears planted themselves in the ground too near to be safe. And then he saw it. Down river, in the midst of violent waters Hawke's dark hair rose out as she scrambled for purchase on the rocks about her, as water crashed and dragged her farther away.
And without question Fenris dove.
It was barely spring and the cold mountain waters were shockingly frigid. Gasping and cursing, he rose to the surface, his muscles already locking and tense from the shock. But he was determined, and forced his strong arms and legs to move, righting himself with the current and pushing off rocks as he was swept down the river. Water was in his eyes and ears and crashing around him; it pulled at him, drawing him under as he searched.
He didn't see her, couldn't find her on any of the rocks, couldn't find her in any of the chaos of rushing waters and spinning currents. He called for her, getting mouthfuls of water, choking and cold. Water crashed over him, pushed him under and swept him into great boulders, bruising him as he struggled.
And just when his panic became all consuming, her strangled yell found him as she was swept beneath the rapids.
Gritting his teeth he swam as best he could to follow her, trying desperately to keep his head above water. Moving with the current he quickly caught up and he grabbed for her frantically, blindly reaching in the churning waters.
Luck was the only thing that saved them as he grasped onto her forearm, drawing her up and close to him as they were swept along.
In those first few moments of panic they became a drowning mass of flailing limbs and gasping breaths, but as they were swept farther and farther downstream the current began to level out. Staying righted became easier, and Fenris kicked and fought the cold waters as they swam for shore.
He pulled the woman up with him as they clawed their way onto the rocky bank; their armor heavy and muscles already aching from the exertion of fighting the river. Coughing, they collapsed together, arms still intertwined as they gasped for breath.
He didn't know how long they lay there, trying to get air back into painfully tight lungs. His fingers grew numb as he clutched to Hawke, still panicked and unwilling to let her go. But when he found the strength to turn his head, he caught her staring at him. Her lips were blue and her hair clung to her too pale skin, but her brown eyes were sparkling and vibrant as she peered up at him through wet lashes. And then she did something he didn't expect in that moment of cold and panic.
She smiled and kissed him.
It was a quick kiss, completely chaste, her blue lips barely brushing the corner of his mouth. "Hawke-" he croaked in surprise. But she pulled her hand up to his face and placed cold and clumsy fingers over his frozen lips, silencing him. Distantly he recognized that he should fight her touch, but his body was too numb to feel the danger from her fingers.
Hawke grinned, and while the river may have taken half her life, it'd taken none of her fight. "A kiss for the Hero," she rasped, her throat too tight and choked to speak well. There was no passion in her touch, frozen fingers and lips would never have been able to manage it.
It was enough, though. Enough to let him know she was alive. Enough to light a warmth deep in his heart that fought the cold of his body.
Laying there facing her, too cold to shiver but too warm to think, a shy grin spread over Fenris's face and he delighted in the answering sparkle in her eyes.
.oO:OO:Oo.
The walk back to the Dalish camp was long and slow.
The Hunters had managed to defeat the Tal Varshoth in a quick turn of strategy and had searched for the fallen pair the rest of the day. When they'd found them, frozen but still together on the bank, Merril had been frantic. It hadn't taken the Hunters long to get word to Marathari and for the keeper to come.
Her healing magic saved them from the cold clutches of death, but even as they walked back into the ring of tents a chill still permeated their bones and every step hurt their bruised and aching bodies. Hawke felt guilty that instead of helping with the hunt they'd only caused the clan more problems, but when she tried to apologize to Marathari, the wizened elf dismissed her sorrows with a wave of her long fingers and a knowing look at Fenris.
When they reached camp a fire was built and Hawke and Fenris stayed close to each other as Merril fussed over them. She was stuck somewhere between fury at Fenris's stupidity and overwhelming gratitude that he'd saved Hawke. He didn't accept her many thanks, and ignored her harsh scolding. When she tried to make him remove his soaked and chilled armor, he pushed her away with a snarl, but it held no real vehemence and Hawke was easily able to persuade him.
The three were given blankets and bedrolls and dry clothes courtesy of the Keeper and it wasn't long before they were comfortable and warm, laying in a tight little circle around the cheery fire. Merril was humming to herself as she watched the stars. Hawke had removed her wet and ruined armor and blinked blearily at the flames, warm and dry.
Fenris found himself sneaking glances at the exhausted woman as often as he dared. The very real memory of the soft brush of her lips heating his cheeks, and the memory of his complete panic making his limbs heavy in its aftermath.
He'd been scared – truly scared - for the first time in his life. As her panicked eyes had disappeared over the cliff and she'd fallen into that frozen river something had fallen into place within him.
He didn't think he could live without her.
She was the only support, the only kindness the hunted elf had ever known - the only friend. He couldn't imagine his life without her soft smiles and quick wit anymore. He needed her fierceness and strength as much as he needed his own. If she died, he wouldn't have any reason to continue fighting for his freedom, because there was nothing freedom could offer that could equal her.
The thought was only slightly unsettling – not the cold terror he'd experienced earlier. A low sigh blew past his lips as he watched sleep claim the woman. She's alive, and that's what matters now, he thought as his own lids grew heavy. He was exhausted, bruised and battered emotionally as well as physically, but content with the knowledge that Hawke would be there and safe when he woke.
.oO:OO:Oo.
But she was in his dreams, too. Clinging to him and sighing his name as she moved.
She drew back to look at him through her wet lashes. Her hair clung to her, draped over her shoulders in thick tendrils darkened and wet. Water droplets sparkled like diamonds on the smooth planes of her pale skin. It was different than on the river bank, though. Her lips weren't deathly blue, but full and red and so close.
"Fenris," she said breathlessly. "I want you, Fenris." She rocked her hips against his and he gasped at the sensation of her movements. Her hands were roaming, trying to unclasp the buckles of his armor, trying to find his skin. Her lips attacked him fiercely, hot wet kisses overcoming his senses as they burned him, as his tentative control slipped through his grasp. "Tell me you want me" She breathed, her breath tickling his lips as she bucked against him again. He groaned at the overwhelming sensations, his body aching.
"Fenris." She gasped breathlessly. "Tell me." He couldn't speak, couldn't form the words to tell her just how much he wanted her, couldn't begin to describe the depths of his need.
Before he could stutter anything at all, she gasped his name again as her hands clenched his shoulders.
"Tell me.." But something was wrong, off. Her voice became desperate and panicked and her hands shook him.
"Tell me what's wrong!"
His eyes snapped open.
And above him was…Merril?
He twisted away roughly and into a ready crouch as the elf fell away from him. The woman had been touching him, the blood mage! A great fury rose in him and he let his burning markings flame to life, drowning out the dim light of the fire's cooling ashes and igniting the area with a rush of unnatural light.
Merril stared at him, her owlish eyes even wider than normal. "Fenris! Are you alright?" she asked breathlessly. He stared back at her coldly; fully intent on attacking, but her frantic words stilled his hand. "I didn't understand what was happening. Are you alright? Are you hurting?" She whispered, fear evident in her voice.
So she was afraid for him, not of him? It made no sense. "What are you talking about, witch?" he hissed at her, none of his rage lost in spite of his confusion.
She shook, obviously troubled. "You-You were moaning. I thought maybe in the river-" But he didn't hear anything else.
The dream of Hawke flew back to him full force. His markings lost their light as a heavy blush stained his cheeks. He'd been moaning? A quick fearful glance at a sleeping Hawke reassured him that she hadn't heard anything.
"Do I need to get the Keeper?" asked Merril, her hushed voice trembling.
He was shaking his head before she finished. "No."
"Are you sure-"
"I said no!" he hissed. "Go back to sleep."
Hesitantly Merril listened to him, softly padding over to her bedroll. She didn't lie down, though, but sat and stared at him with owlish eyes that glinted eerily in the low light of the coming dawn. He shivered despite himself, and pulled his blanket over his shoulders as he rubbed his bleary eyes. The clan had lent both he and Hawke dry clothes, but he felt bare without his armor, and the mage's penetrating gaze didn't help him relax.
A heavy blush still stained his high cheekbones, and he risked another glance at Hawke's sleeping form. Her quiet breathing helped to slowly ease the tension out of his shoulders and drew his thoughts away from his vivid dreams and embarrassment, and back into reality. She was alive, she was safe…
She'd kissed him.
AN:
And in the darkness love blooms! But when the desperation is over will love remain?
tune in next time to read: Crash Landing
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