Promises: Chapter Twenty-Five

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

Fenris stayed with Hawke above deck for what seemed to be hours. Although she had longed emptied the contents of her stomach, she was still suffering from bouts of dry heaves.

Isabela stopped by once and looked at the mageling with a critical eye. "The breeze isn't doing anything for her, is it," she remarked.

"No, it's not," Fenris said dryly. If the lady pirate had nothing useful to add, he would rather that she go away. He had not forgotten that Isabela must have done something to Hawke that made his mageling so upset the night before.

"Pity. It usually does help most." Isabela sighed. "Well keep watching over her. Later when the deck is clearer, you should take her back to your room and let her lie down. That should help." Then the pirate frowned. "And Maker's breath, would you hold on to her? We wouldn't want her to fall over the rail and into the sea!"

Fenris flushed at that admonition. It hadn't even occurred to him that his mageling might find a way to topple over the rail. Hawke wasn't clumsy by any definition of the word, but he wasn't about to take chances with her safety. He stepped forward to hold her, only wincing slightly as he placed his hands around her waist, unused to such direct contact with his mageling. Normally he had his gauntlets as a layer of protection between them, but he hadn't bothered with them when they left their room this morning because they would only get in the way of breakfast. In Tevinter, a slave who presumed to lay his filthy hands upon a magister would be punished. This wasn't Tevinter and Hawke was nothing like a magister, but still Fenris couldn't quite suppress his wince as he laid his bare hands upon his mageling for the first time.

Hawke was warm to his touch, something he never appreciated before seeing how he had kept a layer of cold steel between them. His lyrium brands briefly sang in response to her magic, but it was a pleasant sensation, one that was welcoming and warm. Feeling emboldened, Fenris lifted a hand up so he first could push her hair off of her face and then wipe the sweat from her brow. He didn't know how to explain it but somehow it felt right for him to be able to touch her, to keep her so close to him. Hawke belonged with him and he belonged with her, as if they were two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.

Fenris continued to support his mageling, holding her up until her heaves came to an end and she was left trembling in his arms. "Do you feel well enough to go back to our room?" he asked her softly. Hawke gave him the briefest of nods and the slightest of smiles. His mageling wasn't feeling well, but she was game to make the journey back to her bed.

Fenris wrapped an arm around Hawke and allowed her to rest her head against his shoulder as they walked across the deck. It was slow going, and Fenris could tell that his mageling was still very weak from her bout of vomiting. The deck was a bustle of activity, but thankfully the sailors gave them a wide berth.

There was one person, however, who wasn't grateful for such thoughtfulness. "Andraste's ass, elf!" Isabela all but screamed at him. "Pick her up so you can get her off of the deck and out of our way! We're trying to work here."

Fenris flushed at the lady pirate's words. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea for him to pick Hawke up—for one, it might upset her stomach again and for another, the thought of him carrying her to bed inspired very naughty images inside of his head—but Isabela had a point. So with fluid grace, he lifted Hawke up and carried her, cradling her in his arms. For a moment, he thought Hawke was going to be sick again but then she smiled up at him before tucking her head under his chin and closing her eyes.

He carefully made his way below deck and to their cabin, doing his best not to disturb Hawke. Once they were inside their room, he gingerly set Hawke down upon her bed. Fenris didn't know much about taking care of someone who was sick, but he knew enough to realize that Hawke would be extremely weak because she had thrown up her entire breakfast. What was more, she had not eaten dinner the night before. Though now was not the time to be offering food, Hawke would need to eat later that day and somehow, some way, keep the food down.

The elven warrior remained by the mageling's side for the rest of the day, only leaving to collect dinner from the kitchen. While Fenris had taken a bowl of stew for him, he worried that it was too rich for Hawke's delicate stomach. Instead he gave her a few crackers along with a glass of water, but even that proved to be too much for her. Fortunately Fenris recognized the warning signs as Hawke turned that awful shade of green and he hooked over a bucket with his foot, pushing it under her just in the nick of time. He only gave her water for the rest of the evening. Throughout the night, Hawke took the smallest of sips from the glass, but she was able to keep that much down. Fenris felt relieved; at least he didn't have to worry about his mageling becoming dehydrated.

Hawke's condition did not improve quickly. She wasn't able to eat anything aside from crackers the next day, her face twisting with nausea when Fenris offered her some of the Fereldan porridge that the ship's cook had made again. The mageling found it to be nigh impossible for her to move around without upsetting her stomach, and so she remained bedridden. It was deathly dull to be confined to their room all day but Fenris gladly spent it with her, not wanting to leave her alone, especially not when she was ill.

However, Hawke slept for most of each day, leaving Fenris to his own devices. He missed her constant chatter something fierce. There were only so many times he could polish his armor or make sure that the edge of his sword was sharp. Whenever that got old, Fenris would mentally berate himself for not listening to his mageling. Hawke had warned him about how sick she had been the last time she had been on a boat—she had even gone as far to say that she thought she was going to die—but he hadn't paid attention to her qualms. If he had, he would have found another way to sneak them out of Antiva. Now Hawke was paying the price for his neglect.

Three days after they had left Antiva, the only thing Hawke was to keep down on a regular basis was dry toast. Fenris was beginning to worry anew with how pale and wan his mageling was looking. He trudged over to the galley to fetch himself a proper dinner while reviewing what food he could possibly bring back to Hawke. He picked up a small plate of food and then wandered over to a pot of soup. He peered into the pot, trying to discern its contents so he could figure out whether it would be good for Hawke or not.

"I haven't seen the young lady you were with lately." Taken off guard, Fenris spun around to see that Bart had approached him. "Is she feeling all right?"

Fenris eyed the cook suspiciously but it seemed as though the man was genuinely concerned about the mageling. "She's not been feeling well," Fenris said. "She hasn't…adjusted well to being on a ship."

The man's eyes lit up. "Is that so? Why didn't you tell me before? Wait here!" he commanded as he scurried back in the kitchen. He returned a few moments later, holding a few small packets in his hand. "Ginger tea," Bart said as he pressed the packets into Fenris' hand. "An old Rivaini folk cure for seasickness. Don't give me that look. I don't trust folk cures, particularly not Rivaini ones as a rule, but this one works."

Though Fenris had his doubts, he was willing to try almost anything to help Hawke get better. "Very well," he said. He looked down at the food he had. Obviously he would need to carry back a mug of hot water, but he wasn't sure how he would manage to do so.

The ship's cook evidently had spotted that problem too. Bart ducked into the kitchen again and came back holding not only a mug of steaming hot water but a tray as well. Fenris piled his food along with the mug upon the tray, and then also took a bowl of soup for Hawke in case the tea was enough to help her keep it down.

The tea worked as Bart had advertised. Hawke only ate a few spoonfuls of soup, but Fenris was grateful to see her eating something aside from crackers and bread. The next morning, she was able to eat half a bowl of that awful Fereldan porridge with another mug of ginger tea in her. The day after that, Hawke felt strong enough to take down the protections she had layered over their packs, allowing Fenris to retrieve a few items from them, before she put the wards and hexes up again.

The pair soon fell into a routine. Whenever Hawke started to feel a twinge of nausea, she would alert Fenris and he would head over to the galley to fetch another mug of tea for her. It took several days, but eventually Fenris had his cheerful mageling back again, albeit one who moved much more slowly than usual.

"I'm sorry," she told him one evening as he sat and watched as she ate.

He tilted his head. "For what?"

"For being such a pain. It must not be any fun, being cooped up in here with me," she said. Hawke chewed her lower lip. "If you want, why don't you go eat dinner with everyone else tonight? I'll be all right by myself."

Fenris shook his head, dismissing that thought. "No," he said. "I don't want to leave you alone."

"But—" Hawke started to protest.

"But nothing," Fenris said, silencing her. "It is fine, Hawke." His mageling looked as though she didn't believe him, and he needed to make her understand that he didn't need anyone but her. "I prefer to remain by your side," he said. He could feel a flush creeping up his ears but he persisted. "It is…comforting to be with you. I don't want to"—be with anyone else, was how he felt but didn't want to scare her off—"that is, I would rather not be alone in a crowd of sailors."

Hawke's eyes softened at those words. She reached for his hand, which he gladly relinquished to her. "Oh Fenris. I know. It's hard being the only one different in the crowd. I'm just worried that you'll go mad, sitting here with nothing to do."

"I have you to talk to," he replied. "That isn't nothing."

She beamed at him, and suddenly Fenris could begin to believe that everything was going to be all right.

After about a week, Hawke had recovered enough that she was able to roam about the ship once more with her faithful elf ever by her side. She was still prone to bouts of nausea, however, and so the pair spent most of their time in the kitchen with Bart. Fenris was content to let her chatter with the ship's cook about the things they missed most about Ferelden. However there came a time when Hawke offered to help Bart prepare a meal, and that was when Fenris knew he had to find somewhere else for them to go.

"I'm bored. Deathly so," Hawke said bluntly. "I don't suppose you could use a helping hand with dinner, could you?"

Fenris was quick to intervene. "How about we go on deck?" he said before the cook could reply. "You haven't seen the sun in ages. I think it would be good for you."

Hawke pulled a face at his suggestion. "Hmm…not sure if I want to do that. I don't exactly have fond memories of the last time I went up on deck."

"All the more reason for you to go then," said Bart. "You can't have your only memory being a bad one." He made a shooing motion with his hands. "Go on then. You've finally got your sea legs under you. It's time to use them."

Fenris was grateful for the unexpected support. With two against one, it was difficult for Hawke to dig her heels in and insist on remaining to help with dinner. His little mageling pouted as they exited the galley, but she perked up a bit after Bart offered to show her how to cook his famous potato soup when he made it for dinner tomorrow.

That was not something Fenris was looking forward to though Hawke's cooking had improved. Still that was a worry for another day. He led Hawke up the stairs and out the door and on to the deck for the ship for the first time since their departure.

"Oh! The breeze feels nice!" Hawke said. She tilted back her head and took a deep breath. "Now that I'm up here I can tell that I've missed the fresh air."

"Indeed." Fenris felt the same. Though the smell of seawater wasn't his favorite in the world, it was much better than being cooped up in the small cabin they had below. It was busy on the deck, however, with sailors scurrying about. Most of the activity was concentrated on the sails as the raiders worked to set them according to their captain's standards.

Hawke followed his line of sight. "I wonder what's that all about," said Hawke. "Isa…that is Captain Isabela seems to be awfully demanding when it comes to those sails." She twitched her nose curiously. "Let's go ask," she said and before Fenris could protest, his mageling darted forward leaving him with no choice but to follow.

The lady pirate had a fierce scowl on her face as they approached her. "Not that full!" she bellowed at her men. "Take those sails in! They can't handle that much wind."

"So more wind isn't better?" Hawke asked as she reached Isabela. Evidently whatever the captain had done to upset Hawke so badly at the market had been forgotten by the mageling during the time she had been sick.

"Of course not!" The lady raider whirled around to face them, the grimace on her face fading as she recognized them. "Oh. It's you. Well I can understand why you wouldn't know better." Isabela sighed. "It's disappointing that some of my men are as clueless as you. But yes, there is a thing such as too much wind. The mast can only handle so much before it will break."

"That makes sense," Hawke said after taking a moment to consider Isabela's words. "We wouldn't want that, now would we? As we can't get anywhere without sails, right?"

"At least not quickly," Isabela agreed. "There's always the oars, but that's for when you're really desperate. Personally I would try to construct a makeshift rigging first. But that's why I have to be on deck. To catch such mistakes before they become disasters."

Isabela paced back, shouting a few more orders to her men as they finished taking the sails in a bit. "I must say it's good to see you back on your feet again," Isabela told Hawke after the sails were arranged to her liking. She looked Hawke up and down with a critical eye. "You still look a little peaky though. More sun will do you good, and make sure to get some fresh fruit at dinner." Isabela flicked her gaze over to Fenris. "The same goes for you. Now I would love to stay and chitchat, but I'm afraid I can't. Too much to do, but you're welcome to stay up on deck. Just stick to the port side today in case you get sick again."

Hawke and Fenris remained on deck for the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, remaining on the left side of the ship as Isabela had requested. Fenris was happy to see his mageling so animated as she watched the waves go by. The ship seemed to be making decent speed though Fenris had no idea how long it would take them to get to Wycombe. For that matter, he wasn't certain just where they were at but then that was something only an experience sailor would know.

Hawke insisted on eating dinner in the galley that evening, much to Fenris' dismay. He had seen the looks that she had engendered from the sailors. He did not appreciate how bold some of them were when it came to admiring Hawke's form, and Fenris had to scowl at a few of them to get them to take their lingering eyes off of Hawke. The elf knew that Hawke would only continue to attract such attention during dinner.

They were one of the first to enter the galley, and so the dining room was mostly empty. They filled up their plates with something Hawke called pickled cabbage delight. Fenris also snagged a few limes for them, mindful of Isabela's warnings. After getting some water for them to drink, Fenris herded his mageling over to a back corner to sit, telling Hawke to take the inside seat while he sat down beside her. From there, Fenris deployed his best glare, all but promising death to any sailor foolish to sit across from them.

There was one sailor on board, however, who was not cowed by Fenris' glares and that was the captain of the ship. Isabela plunked down her tray across from them before swinging her legs over the bench to take a seat. "So you've decided to join us for dinner," she noted mildly.

"I finally feel up to it," Hawke replied. "I told Fenris he could go without me, but I think he felt bad leaving me alone when I was so sick."

"Oh, that's too bad," Isabela inclined her head towards Fenris and practically cooed. "I wish you would have come at least for one night," she told him.

He was taken aback by her suggestion and all it implied. He was not used to such an indirect method of flirting; the assassin had always been straightforward with his intentions and so it had been easy for Fenris to shoot the other elf down. "I…do not feel comfortable around strangers," he stuttered, hoping to put an end to this.

However, his words did not have the intended effect as a seductive smile curled across Isabela's lips. "You don't feel comfortable around strangers? Why, sweet thing, don't you know I would have taken very good care of you?" she all but purred. She ran her eyes up and down the length of his body as though she was mentally undressing him.

"I bet you would have enjoyed that," the mageling grumbled from her spot by his side.

Fenris turned to give Hawke a sharp look. That did not sound like his Hawke. His Hawke didn't sound so grumpy and bitter nor did she ever look so disgruntled and displeased. It was almost as though she was…jealous for lack of a better word, but Fenris knew that could not be the case. Fenris couldn't think of any reason why Hawke would be jealous of Isabela; while the lady pirate had her charms, they simply could not compare to the fresh beauty that Hawke possessed.

Then it hit him. Fenris recalled the conversation he had the last time Hawke was out of sorts. Hawke wasn't jealous—that wasn't what was bothering her at all. No, he remembered how she had revealed to him just how much she was still hurting over being left behind by her family. Hawke was upset because she thought that he might abandon her, that he might leave her behind in order to be with Isabela.

Well that wasn't ever going to happen. As far as Fenris was concerned, there was nothing that could pry him away from his mageling. It was high time for him to assure her that she had no reason to fear that he would leave her for the lady raider.

Fenris laid his spoon down on the table and then sought out Hawke's hand so he could hold it in his. He squeezed it comfortingly before he replied to the lady raider. "I have Hawke," he told her. "I watch out for her, and she does the same for me. She's all that I need."

The lady pirate looked less than pleased by his response, but Fenris didn't care. All that he cared about was that Hawke was looking at him with her eyes shiny and bright. She was giving him that smile—the beaming, happy one that was only for him—and he didn't give a damn about anything else now that his Hawke was happy once again.

Author's note: I'm so sorry about the lack of updates. I've not forgotten about this fic, it's just that RL has been very busy as of late and so I didn't have much time for writing. I might have to switch to once a week updates instead of multiples, but at least the fic will still be making progress.

As always, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. :D Reviews really do help keep me going when I'm short on sleep.