He was close to the front door when he finally found his second glove. While he put it on, he noticed that the thing was still covered with blood. Hadriana's blood. He had grabbed Hawke with the same hand that had crushed her heart. He had made him moan with the same hand that had made Hadriana gasp her last breath. Some contrast...
For a while, he stood silently in the pitch black hall, staring without seeing. I should check whether I've forgotten anything. He returned to Hawke's bedroom. Hawke was still sound asleep, still snoring softly. Fenris scanned the room. He knew he had not forgotten anything. He was already wearing all his armor and his sword hung securely on his back. His eyes lingered upon Hawke's robes, which lay in a disordered heap on the floor. Fenris stepped closer and picked them up. The clothing was torn. Did I do that? The fabric felt soft and smooth. So thin. It provided no protection at all in battle. A blade would go through it without slowing even a little bit. He is so easy to kill. He smiled faintly. Okay, not that easy. He had failed. Fortunately.
The robes were definitely ruined. Hawke would not wear it anymore. Fenris rubbed a finger over one of the decorative red ribbons. "I think I will let it stay, as a reminder of this night."
Damn you, Hawke. He tore the ribbon loose and tried to tie it around his right wrist. It took some fumbling and pulling at one end with his teeth, but eventually the fabric was firmly bound around his gauntlet. A reminder of this night. And of how vulnerable he can be with only those stupid robes on.
"I will fight at your side, Hawke," he whispered. "In that, I will not let you down again." Hawke snorted and turned on his other side again. He pulled the blanket higher, so that it reached up to his chin, almost as if that would offer more protection.
He could leave now. He had listened to Isabela's stories about her adventures with different guys who she snuck out on while they were sleeping. Like a thief in the night. If he walked out of the door now, it would be just like that. He would diminish this night to some meaningless affair he regretted once sobered up. Hawke would not like that. He would hate Fenris for it. He would probably hate Fenris anyway. He should. Better if he hated him. He would leave him alone then. "Good. I don't hate you either."
Fenris closed his eyes, pained. Why was this so hard? "Fenris, do you hate me?"
No, damn it. But I should. And you should too. We should hate each other. He had to leave. He could not keep standing here and listen to Hawke's snores. It would make everything only more difficult. Things were difficult enough as it was. Just walk out of the room. Through the door. Walk. One foot in front of the other. Don't look back.
He took a step. And another step. Good. The stone floor was cold against his bare feet. He took step number three. Almost there. The door was maybe two more steps away. Next step. He paused. Don't look back! He looked over his shoulder. He saw Hawke, lying in his large bed, his naked body hidden by the blanket, his face relaxed and peaceful. I can't leave. Not like this. He at least had got to let Hawke know how much tonight meant to him. Silently cursing his idiocy, Fenris walked to the hearth.
Something on the mantelpiece caught his eye. It was a crest with the symbol of the Amell family: two birds. Doves, he guessed. Fenris chuckled. Hawke is a pigeon after all. The crest was small, smaller than the other ones he had seen on the walls in the house. Now that he studied it more closely, he noticed that it was damaged. There were a few scratches on it and a crack in the middle. That was probably the reason it was not hanging on the wall but lying on the fireplace mantel. He had honestly no idea why, but Fenris could not resist picking it up. A thin layer of dust covered the red doves and he wiped it off. "... as a reminder of this night." He stared at the red ribbon around his wrist. The fabric could tear. He could easily lose it during a fight. And what did a scrap of red say anyway? Perhaps Hawke himself would not even realize it came from his torn robes.
Fenris' whole armor dated from his time with Danarius. His entire appearance was dominated by his former master. But he would never fight for Danarius anymore. He fought for Hawke now. He would do everything to repay his debt to Hawke, everything to rectify his betrayal in the Fade. Make up for what he was about to do... Only he would know the complete symbolization of the red ribbon. With the crest, he could show to Hawke and everyone else where his loyalty lay. So Fenris unbuckled his belt and attached the Amell crest.
Bodahn's suspicions about me stealing anything turn out to be justified. So, that was that. The crest rested on his left hip. I think I've decorated myself enough. Bound to another mage. And this time I'm applying the shackles myself. Now he had to wait for Hawke to wake up. Fenris suppressed the urge to start pacing through the room and leaned against the mantelpiece instead, staring in the dying fire. He found a poker next to the mantelpiece, with some fire wood as well. He placed a few blocks in the fire and poked until it came to life again and was burning fiercely. He let the heat of the flames wash over him. It drove away the cold in his limbs, but it failed to reach his core. Something inside him felt cold. Cold and empty.
He heard a movement behind him. A soft grunt. Fenris looked over his shoulder. Hawke's eyelids moved, then opened. He saw him blink a few times, rubbing his eyes with one hand, turning his head to look at the empty pillow beside him. Fenris' heart missed a beat when he saw that. How he wished he could still be lying there, able to meet Hawke's gaze. Instead, he was standing in front of the hearth, fully dressed. He waited for Hawke's eyes to find him. They squinted against the bright light of the fire behind Fenris. He watched the look of suspicion creep on Hawke's face. He tried to smile at him. He forced the corners of his mouth upwards, but that was all he succeeded in. He could not give Hawke more than a strangled smile, that almost immediately fell from his face again.
This is it. Hawke seemed completely awake now. He pushed himself a bit upright with one elbow. The blanket slid off, revealing his bare torso. Fenris tried very hard not to let his eyes drift down to his chest, to the place where he had held his hand, where Hawke's heart was beating. And he tried very, very hard not to look even lower than that. Fortunately the sheets covered Hawke from his bellybutton.
"Was it that bad?"
"I'm sorry. It was..." What was it? "It was fine." Fine? Judging the expression on Hawke's face, that had not been the right word. Of course that wasn't the right word! Of all the insufficient words there are to chose from, I go with "fine"? Fenris noticed Hawke's shoulders stiffen and for the first time he was the one to avert his eyes and look away. He hurried to correct his ridiculous choice of words. This is not going to go well. "No, that is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed." That was closer to the truth than "fine" had been, although it still did not cover everything he felt, everything he had experienced under Hawke's touch. Words to describe that had yet to be invented.
Hawke's eyes returned to his face. "Your markings, then..?" he asked. "The pain?"
The pain. In a certain way, yes, the pain was the problem. But not the pain of the lyrium. That seemed only a slight discomfort now, already almost forgotten. "It's not that." Now I have to tell him. I have to explain. How can I explain? "I began to remember... my life before. Just flashes... This is too much, this is too fast." The words tumbled from his mouth. He forced them out, before they would get stuck behind the lump in his throat and he would choke on them. "I cannot... do this."
Hawke sat upright, his legs hanging over the edge of the mattress. The blanket still covered his lap. His face appeared to light up a bit. Hope? Venhedis, Hawke! There is nothing to hope for! "Your life before? What do you mean?"
"I've never remembered anything from before the ritual. There were... faces," he brought a hand to his face and rubbed his forehead, as if it would help to remember and find the words to explain. "Words. For just a moment, I could recall all of it." He stared at the ground. "Then it slipped away."
"If it brings your memory back, maybe we should do it more often." A joke. Hawke had put his defenses up. Fenris was not sure how he knew that, but it just seemed obvious. Something in Hawke's face had changed as well. Actually, he looked like he always did. He had looked different tonight. It was like a shadow, a cloud, had come over him, darkening his eyes, accentuating the lines in his face. He appeared more guarded. The changes were subtle, but he noticed it nevertheless. But again, he doesn't understand me. He has no idea.
"Perhaps you don't realize how upsetting this is." He felt his eyes sting. No tears. He turned his back on Hawke to hide his face. "I've never remembered anything, and to have it all come back in a rush, only to lose it..." No weakness! He clenched his fists, the metal of his gauntlets screeched. "I can't..." He looked at Hawke without really seeing him, his vision blurred. "I can't." So much for the calm, detached explanation...
"We can work through this." The spark of hope was not completely extinguished yet.
"I'm sorry. I feel like such a fool." Fool. Fool. Fool! "This should never have happened in the first place." He saw Hawke cringe at those words before he turned around. "Forgive me." No. Hate me. Leave me alone from now on. Please. He left the room as fast as he could without running. He thought he heard Hawke mumble something about a falling star, but Fenris kept walking and was quickly out of earshot.
In his haste to leave, he nearly tripped over Sandal, who was standing in his pajamas downstairs. The dwarf simply stared at him with his big, round blue eyes while Fenris tried to regain his balance. A wide smile split his face almost in two when his gaze went over the lines on Fenris' arms. "Ooh! Enchantment!"
"Get out of my way!" he snapped. "I'm not one of your bloody enchantments!" He pushed Sandal aside, made his way through the room and into the hall, forcing the door open. He stepped outside, the front door slamming shut behind him. No way back. The sun was about to come up, driving the darkness away. The first hint of light colored the sky.
He had survived this night after all without being diminished to ashes. But something in him had indeed crumbled. He had been overreacting earlier when he thought he felt cold and empty inside. Now, alone in the chill of the early morning, without the fire and without Hawke, he felt frozen.