I started this one when it was actually the new year ... finished it before January ended, so hopefully that counts for something! I've never seen the new year or any celebration of it referenced in a Dragon Age fic, much less in canon, but I assume they must celebrate the changing of the year. Thanks for reading!
Hawke leaned her shoulder against the window frame, looking out toward the Viscount's Keep. Men would be bustling around the courtyard there, busily laying the charges that would become tonight's fireworks. She could picture the serious, intense face of Seneschal Bran as he barked orders and oversaw the placement.
It was quiet in the house behind her. The servants had the night off; Bodahn and Sandal were off to wherever it was they went when they weren't at home and Orana had gone down to the alienage to celebrate with Merrill and the other elves. They had a ceremony that Merrill said held on to a surprising number of the Dalish customs. Hawke knew it was always bittersweet for Merrill to celebrate without her clan, and hoped her friend would have an enjoyable night despite Marethari's stubbornness.
Down in Lowtown, the Hanged Man would be preparing for its annual lock-in. And while Varric settled down near the fire to tell stories, Isabela would be prowling the crowd, deciding whose strokes she would be accepting at the stroke of midnight. Hawke had joined them the last few years, but not this year.
Craning her neck, she could just make out the lights of the Chantry. Sebastian would be in there, chanting along with the mothers as they beseeched Andraste and the absent Maker to bless the upcoming year and to forgive them all for the sins of the outgoing one. Hawke was sure he felt she should be there, kneeling and numbering each of her many sins. That was assuming she could remember them all in the first place, she thought with an inward grin. No, she'd leave concern about her immortal soul to the professionals. Maybe her parents would put in a good word for her with the Maker when her time came. In any case, it wasn't worth worrying about tonight.
A guard strolled by below the window. Hawke was sure it was neither Aveline nor Donnic—neither of them would have felt it acceptable to work such a cushy job as Hightown on the last night of the year. They'd be making sure the fireworks weren't stolen, or down in Darktown where the new year brought only new crime. No celebration there. Anders usually held an open clinic, and folks lined up to be healed as fast as he could lay hands on them, starting the year off healthy.
On previous New Year's Eves, Hawke had joined each of her companions, taking part in their rituals. But there was one she had never spent the last night of a year with—it had always seemed too painful to start off a new year in the presence of someone she wanted so desperately but couldn't have.
Tonight, that was all changing.
No sooner had Hawke thought the words, a slow smile spreading across her face, than a slim, lyrium-lit arm passed around her waist, and she was drawn back against a strong, wiry body. Their relationship was only a couple of months old, and her heart still leaped under the faintest touch, her hunger for him flaming bright and hot.
Fenris rested his chin on her shoulder. "Has it begun yet?"
"No. We haven't reached midnight yet." She put her hand over his, thrilling at the easy casualness with which his fingers moved to wrap around hers. "I know there are no clocks in that dilapidated heap you live in, but the rest of the world actually pays attention to the passage of time."
He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her ear.
They stood quietly together for a few moments, looking out at the clear, starry night above the buildings.
After a while, Fenris said, "Is there more to this ritual of the changing of the year than this waiting for the fireworks to begin?"
"I'm sure the year changes in Tevinter."
"Yes, but what is another year to a slave? Just another round of days in which to leap to the master's bidding. And the magisters are not fond of being reminded of the passage of time—every year that passes brings them closer to the loss of their power and the ascension of a newer, younger mage."
"You always make it sound like such a welcoming place."
He snorted, and Hawke tightened the grip of her fingers on his, thinking of how close she had come so many times to losing him back into that nightmare.
After a few moments' silence, she said, "Resolutions."
"What?"
"Resolutions. That's the other part of the New Year's ritual. You make a list of things you want to do differently in the coming year. You must have heard us talking about them in the past."
"Oh, yes. Isabela's always is to have more fun."
"She likes to aim for reachable goals."
He chuckled again, nuzzling her ear. "It's possible for Isabela to exceed the amount of fun she has in each successive year?"
"Well, when you put it that way she sounds downright ambitious." Hawke turned her head to meet his mouth with hers for a long, lingering kiss.
They broke apart, both breathing heavily but content to let the passion between them rise slowly, knowing they had the whole night for it to peak.
"Should I have any resolutions for the year to come?" he asked.
"Yes. Stay right here with me, and don't brood so much."
"I cannot imagine what you might mean. I—"
"Don't brood," she finished for him, and they laughed together.
When his laughter had faded, he turned her to face him, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Hawke. I am not going anywhere, I promise you that. I need no new year to teach me what I already know—that I could not bear to be without you, ever again."
She cupped his cheek with her hand, nodding. "I feel the same."
"And what of you?" he asked tenderly. "Are there resolutions you would make, ways to change your life that you have contemplated?"
"Well, the resolution I had planned to make has already come true." Hawke slid her arms around his waist to make her meaning perfectly clear.
"I do not believe I am worthy of being your resolution."
"Then you're the only one." She chuckled. "I'm pretty sure if things hadn't worked out between us already, everyone else was intending to have a go at getting us together."
Fenris's cheeks heated with embarrassment and he looked away, uncomfortable either with the reminder of how much she cared for him or with the reminder of how much he had hurt her.
"Hey." Hawke reached up and turned his head back toward her. "And don't you dare apologize again. We're done with all that now."
"Yes. Yes, we are. I am—" He caught himself, smiling and kissing her fingertips as she drew them across his mouth. "Besides the current situation being resolved, is there anything you would like to be different in the coming year? Whatever it is, I will do my best to procure it for you."
"Maybe you could learn to speak in contractions." She grinned at him.
"Pardon?"
"Never mind. I wouldn't really want you to anyway."
"You are making sport, but it was a serious question."
Hawke sighed, leaning forward until her cheek was pressed against the smooth leather of his armor. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of him and hearing his steady heartbeat. "It seems ungrateful to have what I wanted most and then to want more."
She could feel the heaviness of his head as it came to rest on hers, the silky brush of his hair against her face. "Nonetheless. I am certain you have plans, desires, schemes. You always have."
"No plans, or none that I know of. Just … I want someone else to do this."
"Do what?"
Sitting back, Hawke gestured out toward Kirkwall. "All of it. The fighting and the arguing and the standing up for everyone. I want someone else to step forward and say 'it's all right, Hawke, I've got this.'"
"It wears on you."
"It does. I'm tired of fighting battles that I don't care about, for a town I never wanted to live in anyway. Kirkwall to me is you and Varric and Isabela and Aveline and the crowd at the Hanged Man. The rest of them can go hang, for all I care." She touched the windowframe gently, words tumbling out of her in a rush. "I only came back here because of Mother, and Bethany, and look where it got them. They wanted all this; and now I'm stuck with it, and I just want … I want to be left alone to enjoy my life, instead of constantly being out there risking it on the behalf of people who don't know me and don't care about me and aren't brave enough to fight for themselves." Hawke paused for breath. She hadn't even known how much it all bothered her, not really.
"I want that, too," Fenris whispered. His gentle hands stroked her face. "I want your safety assured so that I need never wonder if you will survive the day. Because if you did not—" He broke off, shaking his head. "It would be more than I could bear."
Hawke took his hands in hers, kissing the lyrium-marked fingers. "So our New Year's resolution is to find someone else who can step forward to be the Champion of Kirkwall."
"It is." He moved closer, pressing his body against hers. "And not to waste a moment of our time together."
"I'll second that one," Hawke murmured. "Come to bed."
"I thought you desired to watch the firework display."
"Who needs them? We'll make our own fireworks."