"Paper Heart"
Inspired by Paper Heart by F(x)
Link to the song with translation: youtube watch?v=WrYSsMy3HwY

Summary: One year after the end of DA:2, Fenris begins to regret what happened with Vanaria...
Pairing: Hawke/Fenris (it's not about them, really)
Genre: Family/Comfort
Rating: G

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

The day he realized he never needed to run from Danarius was the day he was finally free.

Vanaria,

Only one word and he had to put down the quill, flexing and cracking his fingers from squeezing until his knuckles whitened. What was he doing? She had long since returned to Minrathous to return to her life as a tailor. Hawke had been Viscount for the last year and he sorely missed her presence at his back while he took mercenary jobs. It wasn't hard to become comfortable in this life, though it seemed to be determined to push them apart from their friends and from each other. His bird seemed too tired to fly, these days.

I suppose this letter will come as a surprise. If you have even ventured to open it, you have my thanks.

Hawke had taught him the meaning of family. When Hadriana told him of his sister, he sought her out in order to gain something, a place, a life. Hope was a feeling he didn't deserve. When Danarius was brought to him instead, his fury burned brighter than the hottest suns. Grief was an emotion he had forgotten about, maybe years ago from before he was Fenris he had known of the illness. That moment it struck him and he mourned for a life he didn't know and a sister he would never have. The instant Danarius walked down those steps, she had died in his eyes. For a long time he had harbored this anger against Vanaria, but now he wondered…

It is said the Maker has left us, however, I wonder if He continues among us. Maybe the methods He choses may not be the ones we prefer, but in the end it is these events that brought me to Hawke. If you had not brought Danarius to me, would I have ever been able to rid myself of his shackles?

Fenris had the habit of not expressing his true feelings unless angered. This time, he would be honest. He was all that Hawke had left, and Hawke was all that he had in this world. While he was content with this circumstance, his sister wasn't. Was that not the reason she had attempted to betray him? That despite his efforts, her freedom meant nothing if she was not to have a brother, a mother? He understood this sentiment more than he would like to admit.

I hope that even though we have had our disagreements, these events can also bring us together.

"No," he grumbled, crumbling the paper and grabbing a new one.

How could you betray your own brother to the man who enslaved him?

"Ugh." The words felt right to let slip from his fingers but he could never send it to her. If he hoped at all to gain a sister, then he needed to be civil, honest. He sucked in a trembling breath and began to start again.

Vanaria,

Since you ran from the Hanged Man that day last year, I have not forgotten you. Hawke and I have lost friends and family; No matter our past misgivings, you are my sister. I –

"No."

We will do what is needed to have you beside us.

Writing letters was harder than it seemed.

I was angry with you because I felt betrayed, but I lashed out against you in fear. My Hawke is also a mage, sister. Her sister, her father, they were mages. I let my anger lead me to rash judgment and undue violence. Reluctant as I have been, I know now that we belong together.

With the quickness of a cat, Fenris slapped his hand down over the words of the page. "I can't send this… this trash to her. She'd think I have gone soft." He took in a deep breath, shaking white hair from his eyes. "Or she'll think I'm lying." Carefully, he lifted his hand from the wet ink and stood from Hawke's desk. The hearth where he so often gazed into the flames, asking its hot truth to penetrate his soul, is where he leaned his arm and rested his head. "How can I convince her that I'm telling the truth this time?"

"Be honest, she will know." He heard the simple answer from the door, turning to look at Hawke as she leaned on the door frame. His eyes softened, gold flecked from the fire, his shoulders relaxing.

"I feel… stupid."

Her smile told him how much she understood. "When Carver left to join the Templars and didn't write me for three years, I felt much the same." She began stripping her armor from a visibly tired body. She still wore it even though she wasn't doing much fighting – Hawke never knew when she would need to be ready for battle. "Hearing from you will mean more to her than you know, even if she is angry, it will only be because she's in pain."

"I couldn't bear it – if she hates me." His hand lifted to his chest and laid upon it, grasping. "My heart is as fragile as that piece of parchment. I could crumble, I could burn –"

"Parchment is made from wood, it's not as delicate as you think," she laughed lightly, voice twinkling like a wind chime. "You're not alone, Fenris. You're giving Vanaria the chance to not be alone either."

He couldn't help the way his lips curled and his heart picked itself up to stand straighter. Looking down at his hands, he rubbed his fingers together where the ink stained his skin. It had dried. Maybe the paper had, too. Returning to the desk, he leaned over the letter again and picked up the quill. Hawke sat on their bed behind him, working on releasing her raven locks from the myriad of pins that held it in place.

If I do not do something to mend the rift I have created between us, then my efforts to acquire these brands and free you and Mother from slavery was for naught. I would wish to honor her in this last way.

Fenris felt Hawke's presence over his shoulder, but did not bother to make her leave. She was reading the letter, he knew, much faster than he could write it. Calloused fingers moved aside his hair to press her lips against the three dots on his forehead. Her weight pressed further on his shoulders, taking the quill from his hands and adding in her looping, feminine script,

With all our love, Hawke

He hesitated, turning his head to look up at her and her smile. Blue eyes shone wet, a faint blush creeping over her cheekbones as it did when she was too happy to contain it. Her fingers passed the quill back to him and he signed –

and Leto.