#CW: Danarius

[kittyoperas]

Fenris & the Head of Danarius.

[hisfavoritewolf]

A Guide to Tevinter; The Language of Poisons

[shivunin]

FenHawke + 5 and Cullen/Salshira + 15 for the Florence + the Machine prompts? 👀

Oooh this is so perfect for them, anon. Good choice! I will do the second one in a separate post, as always c:

When to Fold

(Fenris/Maria Hawke | 1,519 Words | CW: references to alcohol)

Summary: After Danarius's defeat, Hawke throws a party at her home and reflects on the changes to her relationship with Fenris.

“The feeling comes so fast and I cannot control it I'm on fire, but I'm trying not to show it.” —Florence + the Machine, “Free”

Relief had made Hawke clumsy. 

She couldn’t explain herself any other way. Well, she probably could if she really put her mind to it—making things up had always been a special talent of hers—but it was the only way she could explain this to herself. 

“You’ve dropped your cards,” Fenris said in a low voice. 

He was sitting to her left. In and of itself, this was not remarkable. They’d played Wicked Grace together hundreds of times before, though they’d done so in her formal dining room admittedly less often. They’d sat together before. They’d certainly eaten together before. But—tonight was special and she rather thought they both knew it. 

For the first time in three years, Fenris sat at Hawke’s side. 

“Stop losing on purpose, Hawke,” Aveline said sternly from the other end of the table. Her coin made a faint scraping noise when she slid it to the pot. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”

“There, there, darling,” her husband said, tapping his own face-down hand. “You did very well on that last hand. There’s hope for you yet.”

Aveline cast him a look and Donnic lifted his hands, half-laughing. Maria tried very hard to focus on the two of them, but it was difficult when Fenris went on moving in her periphery. How long had it been since he’d told her he intended to stay in Kirkwall? One week, perhaps two? She’d been so delirious with joy that she’d thrown together a party to celebrate it and only come up with an excuse for the surprise after the fact. 

Something to celebrate all of them being in the same place for the very first time, she’d said. It wasn’t a lie; near as she could tell, this would be around when he’d made his way to the city. Even so, she knew that she’d drawn them all here for a different reason entirely: relief. Whatever she and Fenris were to each other—and it defied strict definitions—he would not be leaving her. Not yet, in any case. 

“Maybe you should lay off the fancy Antivan wine, Hawke,” Varric had told her only moments ago, after she’d dropped her cards the first time. 

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps her mood could be attributed to the heady rush of wine and good company alone. 

“Thanks,” Hawke whispered to Fenris, and gathered the cards up again with clumsy hands. 

He ducked his head to look between their chairs and leaned toward her, stretching. The light caught on the silver embroidery in his clothing, an admittedly indulgent gift. Worth it, of course; seeing him comfortable in fine things had done something rather odd to her chest. Well, seeing him at all did something odd to her chest at the best of times. Surely she couldn’t blame all of it on the clothing. 

“There,” Fenris murmured after a moment, sitting back again. He lifted a card, freshly fetched from under the table. Hawke looked at it for a long moment before she realized that he was handing it to her. 

“Oh, thank you,” she said, and reached to take it from his hand. 

Their fingerprints brushed. It was nothing; the simplest of touches. She’d shared more contact with the grocer. After three years, it should not burn her so. But—it did. It did, just as it had every time before. 

Fenris did not let go immediately. Neither did Hawke. He studied her face, lovely eyes rich and warm in the candlelight. The barest shadow hid under the curve of his lower lip, cast there by the very same candles. If she’d had more wherewithal, she might have wondered if she was blushing. She must be; she felt like her whole body had been set on fire. Not a fire that consumed, nor even a fire that slumbered safely in the hearth 

No—if she burned then, it was like a candle set on a windowsill. Waiting, always waiting, held safe from the winds of the world by the thinnest layer of fragile glass. 

“Forgive me,” he said after a moment, and let go. 

Maria nodded wordlessly and folded the card into her palm with a deft and thoughtless motion. Each place he’d held it was warm. She marked them each: the edge of the card where his index finger had rested, the place where his thumb and middle finger had pinched to hold it still. 

Clumsy. That’s all she was.

Clumsy, and relieved, and Maker but she’d forgotten how warm this gown could be. Hawke reached for her glass of wine and drained it all at once, wishing it would somehow cool her. 

“Now,” Sebastian said from the other side of the table, “I do not mean to be rude, but I will say I was lured here with the promise of cake.”

“Oh, Andraste’s a—” she caught herself at the last moment and fumbled for another phrase. “Ah—dimples—”

“Thank you,” Sebastian said at the plainly amended oath, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly. 

“—I’d forgotten entirely. I’ll go get it now.”

She stood so quickly that she almost knocked her chair over, but gathered herself with a laugh and made her escape to the empty kitchen. For a moment, she leaned back against the door and pressed her hands to her cheeks. 

Three years. Three years of holding herself carefully apart and reminding herself over and over and over again that she had to let him go. Three years, and the tiniest trickle of hope had her stumbling now. 

“It’s too much at once,” she said aloud, passing her hands back over her hair before crossing at last to the desserts laid out on the table. “That’s all. It caught me by surprise.”

It was too much. It wasn’t as if she’d ever stopped loving him. Of course not; she might be a practiced liar, but three years was an awfully long time to close her eyes and cover her ears. Hawke had watched Fenris walk out her door and done everything she possibly could to forget what they’d done. Instead, loving him had carved a new sort of groove in her heart. He was one of her dearest friends, and knowing they would never be anything else had allowed her to know him as he truly was. Fenris was flawed, irritable, biased, short of temper when pressed…but also clever, strong, kind when he had no call for it, thoughtful even when he thought nobody would notice, and unfailingly loyal. 

When they’d stumbled up the stairs to her bedroom three years ago, she had wanted him more than anything. It was a desire that had overridden any good sense she had left, that had rushed her where she knew better than to go, but she was wiser now. Maria loved Fenris down to her bones and knew she always would, but that needn’t change anything. She’d be a fool to think otherwise now. 

“Alright,” she told the cake, decadently draped with summer fruits. “Alright. I can handle this.”

“Do you need help?” Fenris asked behind her. 

Clearly, she had been too lost in thought if she hadn’t heard him enter. Hawke tried to mask her surprise, but it was difficult after she’d already yelped and clapped a hand to her chest. 

Fenris eyed her, one hand pressed to the center of the open door. 

“Forgive me,” he said. “I did not mean to—” 

“No, no, of course you’re not to blame,” Hawke told him, half-laughing. “I’m afraid I was lost in my thoughts. Thank you for fetching me back.”

He studied her for a moment. There was something soft in his face. She was certain she was not imagining or inventing that much. Perhaps it was only the release of a lifetime’s worth of fear and anger. Perhaps he was relieved to stay, too. 

It didn’t explain why his ears were faintly red, but she wasn’t the only one who’d been drinking, was she?

“Thank you,” she told him when he rounded the little table and took the other side of the platter. “It’s heavy to manage on one’s own.”

“Then we will carry it together,” Fenris said gravely. When he bent his head to look down at it, a lock of pale hair drifted over his forehead. 

“Ready?” he asked, and unexpectedly lifted his eyes to hers. Hawke blinked and nodded once, unable to look away for a moment. She was clumsy in a way that had nothing to do with her hands, but it seemed she would go on stumbling. Perhaps she ought to just resign herself to this. It would pass in time, when she got her feet under her. She was sure of it. 

“Always,” she told him. 

Fenris hesitated, opening his mouth to speak, but shook his head instead. 

“Lead on,” he told her, as he had a hundred times before, and Hawke turned her attention instead to the path back to the dining room. 

Well—most of her attention, anyway.

[broodwolf221]

Hello friend! I don’t entirely know how dadwc works exactly (only that a lot of my mutuals share amazing fics on Fridays lol) but I saw your prompt list and thought I would toss a prompt your way and see if it tickles your fancy!

From your heavy prompt list: scar reveal with Fenders with a lil hurt/comfort maybe?

Thank you! 😘

@dadrunkwriting

ah thank you toby! this was fun /u\ barely h/c lmao but it's there! just a hint.

cw: whipping scars

1109 words

They were on the Wounded Coast, where far too many things seemed to happen. Hawke had brought Merrill and Anders along with Fenris, who felt somewhat out of place amongst the rogue and mages. Not that things were anywhere near as strained as they had been early on.

Time had softened his mistrust of the mages Hawke surrounded herself with. Battling beside them and realizing he had grown to trust that their magic would not strike him had been a profound, almost unsettling realization. It was as if a core part of him had suddenly gone missing, and he felt raw and vulnerable for its absence, although he did not regret it being gone.

Merrill and Hawke entered their shared tent and Fenris rolled his eyes, although in truth he was happy for them: they seemed well-suited to each other. He just wished they could be a little quieter about how well-suited they were, sometimes. The giggling could be distracting.

Anders sat next to him, sharing a knowing grin. “We could always retire to our tent, make enough noise to keep them up half the night,” the mage offered blithely, Fenris snorting. Over time, suspicion had eased into trust; then trust, into a faint affection. From there, slowly and with the weight of something inevitable, this.

Anders leaning against him, shoulder-to-shoulder as they stared out at the sea. These shared touches, this tender intimacy that was so profoundly unfamiliar.

Not unwelcome, though. It should be, but it wasn’t.

He had tried to reason it through, at times. He had been a slave; Anders had been locked away in one of the Circles. Neither of them had known the truth of freedom for so long. He thought he could recognize the same caged-animal look in Anders’ eyes that he had felt so often in his; too, he could recognize the simple wonder at freedom that sometimes infused the mage, like when he turned his face up towards rainfall while the rest of them huddled under their cloaks.

Fenris had felt the rain, following Danarius. But he understood the thirst for things others took for granted. He recognized it in the other man, and assumed Anders recognized it in him. They still argued, certainly, but even those arguments had slowly taken on a different tone. He supposed by now they were more debates, a fast-paced and exacting expression of ideas. It honed both of them.

He usually noticed Anders writing notes to himself after their longer debates, he assumed for his manifesto. Sometimes he wanted to offer to read it, but he wasn’t sure he could - Hawke was still teaching him, after all - nor was he sure that it would be good to. He was worried it would dredge up old anxiety and fears, seeing Anders push for the same absolute freedom that mages had in Tevinter, although he knew the other man didn’t seek that same route exactly.

Regardless, he had not offered, and Anders had not suggested. Perhaps they were both afraid of this delicate balance being lost.

“Well, I’m going for a swim,” Anders announced abruptly, Fenris staring askance at him. But the mage just shot him a bright grin. “Look, the sea is calm, we have a good fire going, and I feel filthy after fighting bandits all day.” He rose and shrugged off his jacket, leaving Fenris to stare at him. Really? Swimming now, this late at night, in such cold water?

“Mage,” he said as he rose, grabbing Anders’ arm, “don’t be a fool.” But Anders just pulled out of his grip.

“I’m not. I won’t be long, I know it’s cold.” He wanted to protest but Anders was already striding forward, pulling his tunic off over his head before he set to work on his breeches.

It took Fenris a moment to understand what he was seeing, frowning at Anders’ back before flushing as the mage’s ass was suddenly exposed to him. Anders turned and winked before wading into the water with a visible shiver. “Andraste’s tits, this really is cold,” he said sharply, Fenris sighing. He sat back down as the mage stuck to his word, pushing forward just far enough that he could submerge himself fully for a moment before rising quickly, shaking his hair. “Shit! Okay, okay,” Fenris averted his eyes as Anders came back, now facing forward.

Seeing his ass had been distracting enough, he didn’t need to see the other man’s cock. At least, not in this context. Anders ducked down to grab his overcoat and shrugged it on before settling very close to the fire, his blonde hair dripping as he shivered.

“Fool mage,” Fenris muttered under his breath as he approached, wrapping an arm around the other man. Despite his frustration, he couldn’t entirely stop thinking about what he’d seen.

“I was expecting a lecture,” Anders quipped from beside him, sounding smug despite his trembling. Fenris didn’t respond immediately, considering.

“Your scars,” he said after a moment. Anders froze in his grip, not even breathing for a moment. Then he let out a shaky sigh, pulling the coat tighter as if that would protect him.

“You’re the worst voyeur,” he muttered. “Focusing on all the wrong things.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it...” he felt the roll of Anders’ shoulders as he shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter.” He stared into the fire, looking quite distant. “I was never exactly good at being cooped up. And Templars... some of them were worse than others.” He smiled ruefully. “And that’s saying something.”

“You were whipped?” He asked it as gently as he could, Anders sighing before nodding once.

“It wasn’t that unusual.” Fenris winced at that. He’d known, vaguely, about the abuses that mages suffered in the Circles, but to see it... “It’s not that big of a deal.” He sounded frustrated now, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going. For him to fight so doggedly against the Templars and the Chantry, it clearly was a big deal - this, and everything else. But Fenris could understand his unwillingness to talk about it.

“I have the same marks,” he said after a moment, looking stoically into the fire. He felt Anders turn to face him, but wasn’t willing to meet his eyes just now. “It is... awful. And it is done.” He shrugged slightly. “I do not mean to bring you back to that place. I apologize.”

“No, no, I-” Anders cut himself off with a sigh. “I don’t know what to say.”

He let the silence sit. It lay heavy between them, but he kept his arm around the mage while he dried.

It was something.

[thegeminisage]

i decided to make a list of 15 of my favorite plot devices

i think they're mostly in order but all things are subject to change. time to explain my passions

1. asexuals - self-explanatory. the best number one joy of all time is when there is an asexual person, canonically, and not just in my mind palace. so far no show has managed to do this except fucking shadowhunters (and bojack horseman ig but it's not my thing). i know there are people out there who can write way better than the shadowhunters writing room but i don't know why they aren't getting on this. tick tock. example: raphael shadowhunters

2. amnesia - notably different from dementia, which is depressing and bad (thinking about you, dean winchester). amnesia is only good because eventually they get it back. the best thing about amnesia is that it shows you who your Little Guy (gender neutral) is with everything stripped away from them including their sense of self. do they still go for the same kind of coffee? do they still click with the same people they used to love? can they still fight? what do they stand for? it's very rewarding when your little guy acts the same way without knowing why. it's also especially cool for action heroes bc they'll still be able to win a fight and it's like wow <3 fight scenes with emotional stakes!! also i love that it gives us a mystery to solve. sometimes a partially amnesiac character is amnesiac because they did a terrible crime. and they've got to solve it while accidentally working against their past self. fun! examples: fang from ff13. wolverine. why, who did you think i was going to use

3. brainwashing - for the same reasons as amnesia. it's the same concept: take away everything and who is your little guy? the real little guy is in there and they are working so hard to get out. also they will be sooo sad about all the crimes they did later. example: fenris dragon age. d'avin killjoys. and okay fine one other guy we're not talking about

4. enemies to lovers - what's better than two people wanting to murder each other until they don't......always a good side of bickering with this as well. main draw tho is the process of simply two people getting to know one another in the way that you can tell strangers things you can't tell your friends. it's more work to love someone when you hate them and with more work comes a better reward. also, sexual tension. example: so many. fenris/hawke. fenris/anders. botw link/zelda. john/aeryn. bonnie and damon if the cw weren't cowards and i don't even like damon i think he's unforgivably horrible (derogatory)

5. monster under the bed character - i don't know if this has a real name. it's like the One Guy (again, gender neutral) who has shaped the protagonist's whole life who is threat number one in any given situation. Primal Fear of this guy and all they represent is similar to how little kids are scared of the monster under the bed hence the name. it's not JUST an arch enemy or an antagonist it's like. the only enemy that matters. not a bad guy but THE bad guy. if you can boil someone's issues down and stuff them all into a single person and then also make that person scary. and then also they can fight!! fuck yeah fight scenes!!! if you're really lucky this will overlap with either somebody's parent or somebody's ex. examples: AUGH SO MANY. for dean winchester it's yellow eyes. for sam winchester it's lucifer. for fenris it's danarius. for jace wayland it's valentine. for dutch killjoys it's khlyen. for anakin skywalker it's palpatine. for derek hale it's kate argent. going nuts just thinking about it

6. reluctant assassins - crucially if they don't care about being assassins it doesn't work for me (sorry kassandra asscreed). i went into this in more detail here but your assassin simply Must be compromised in some way so they can regret all their little crimes later. otherwise what's the point?? this overlaps so thoroughly with brainwashed iedk if it should count as its own entry but whatever. examples: fenris dragon age. dutch killjoys. d'avin killjoys. elliot leverage. and the other one

7. two-person love triangle - this is a very specific sub-example of secret identities in general which ARE good except they're usually in superhero media and i am really just so totally fucking over the entire CONCEPT of superheroes. anyway it's when one person has a secret identity and the other person forms a relationship with their "real" identity and their "secret" one. and then they feel conflicted about loving two people at once and having to choose but SURPRISE it's the same person! i like this because it has anti love triangle energy. lots of romantic tension and none of the dumb fucking YA bullshit. (apologies to YA.) example: arthur and merlin (who is also "emrys" at least in fanfic)

8. 4th wall shit - when the piece of media is in your house with you. i don't feel i need to clarify further than this because dr gaster is probably spying on me as we speak. examples: everything toby fox has ever made. s*pernatural, sometimes. i also had a deeply haunted experience with final fantasy x.

9. last guy (gender neutral) standing - part of a team or group that got tragically mcmurder prior to the start of the story and this person is so terribly sad about it. crucially this has to be a side character whose relationships with dead people are more important than or equally important to their relationships with the current living cast members. character deaths you almost agree with because then at least they can be with their fallen buds. examples: auron from ffx, noel from ffxiii

10. immortal characters - for the same reasons as above but also they CAN'T DIE EVER so they don't even have that to look forward to. also sometimes they wind up being science experiments. examples: jesse turner from @cambionverse (sorry jesse)

11. evil doppelganger - usually this is in video games where they just take the sprite or the polygons and recolor them to be black but also you have some mirrorverse/au shit going on sometimes and then there's evil twins, and shapeshifters, and clones...i love when everybody gets tricked into thinking somebody is doing crimes but actually theyre just out here and it's their evil double causing problems on purpose and not even being the one to go to jail forever because of it. also, when the evil double has mind-reading powers or whatever b/s to 1. make them a better trickster 2. to make them better at precision-point roasting of whomstever they look like. also acceptable: when you little guy just suddenly turns fucking evil and/or gets possessed and you have to cure them to get them back. idk maybe that should go under brainwashing. examples: dutch and aneela. link and dark link. zelda and the puppet. soulless sam. demon dean. hullen johnny.

12. fire powers - WHO doesn't love a little arson...i feel like this is the same concept behind werewolves which boils down to "fear of anger" bc with anger comes the loss of control and the devastating fallout... your fire guy (gender neutral but idk any fire girls) has to have a lot of self control or they'll fuck everybody up. they're very dangerous! not unlike assassins. also, fire is pretty. bonus if they have done crimes before either on purpose or on accident. examples: jesse turner again, roy mustang aka the OG fireguy, prince zuko

13. big damn reunion - when two people are split up with little to no chance of ever seeing each other again and then they do anyway. this is why i'm never mad when they bring characters back from the dead. examples: i'm actually totally blanking on these, i feel like it tends to happen in fic so much more often. also i've been writing this list awhile

14. time travel - i love! time travel! i love when people see an apocalyptic future and go back and fix it (chrono trigger, ff13). i love when there's a stable loop (tears of the kingdom) or a paradox (song of storms in ocarina of time). i love visits to the ancient past (skyward sword). i love when there's just an actual fucking timeloop (s*pernatural). it's really good!!! examples: oops i just listed them all

15. body swap - last but not least i think it is so fun when two people wind up living each other's lives. it's more fun in tv when people get to switch which character theyre playing but it's good in any form because what a way to get to know someone and also the endless potential for shenanigans. examples: dreamless (webcomic), your name, various episodes of tv shows many of which are bad (s*pernatural's was extremely bad).

ok, that's the list. originally it was 10, then 13, then 15, so i think i'd better stop here.

[kiastirling-fanfic]

for your warden Fenris au this dadwc, "say it to the dead bodies."

Y'know, I think I found the perfect place for this prompt. Specifically, the very start of the AU. Here's Fenris arriving in Amaranthine.

words: 1019 cw: fantasy racism, violence, gore

@dadrunkwriting

“Drop the sword, slave, and maybe we won’t even whip you.”

The men were ugly in a way that Fenris had come to be very familiar with on his journey south. Bounty hunters or slavers or simple mercenaries, it mattered little to him at this point, they all came from the same source and all came to the same end. From Danarius to the end of Fenris’ sword, or with his fist in their chest if they were especially unlucky, like horrible presents sent by his old master.

They couldn’t be earnest attempts to pull Fenris back, for all that Danarius was putting on a good show of it ever since he’d left Seheron. Chased south and south and south until he’d crossed the Waking Sea and found himself here.

With his fist buried in the seeming leader of the men sent after him, the rest crumpled slabs of meat lying in pools of blood. That was all the proof Fenris needed that Danarius wasn’t trying to bring him back yet, not really; he knew how strong Fenris was, how skilled. The magister trained him, molded him, knew his every inch and secret, better than Fenris himself.

If Danarius actually wanted him back, he wouldn’t hire such pathetic creatures to chase him.

Fenris pulled back his fist and the leader dropped, dead as all the rest of the beasts were. He flicked his wrist, blood spraying off the talons of his gauntlet and walked back to the last man whose corpse was serving to hold his sword upright.

“Halt! Don’t touch the sword, elf!”

Fenris turned. These men were not Danarius, he was fairly certain. Wielding matched swords and shields, wearing middling armor with yellow dyed tabard over the scales, it took Fenris only a moment to recognize them.

“You’re late, guardsmen,” Fenris scoffed and continued towards his sword. “I was assured when I arrived at the port that the local guards could be trusted to protect the people here, but it seems the reputation of your garrison was exaggerated. Or do you frequently allow slavers to wander your city?”

“He’s gone daft. Slavery’s illegal in Ferelden. And even if these louts started a fight, murder’s murder, right boys?” The crowd of guards jeered their agreement, and the hairs on the back of Fenris’ neck stood on end. They weren’t slavers, but they were not good men clearly.

Fenris spared himself the whip by killing the slavers, only to turn his back to the rod, it would seem.

“I wasn’t aware that Ferelden had laws against killing in defense of one’s life.” In point of fact, Fenris knew nearly nothing of law in Ferelden, other than that they didn’t permit slavery or the presence of slavers; it had been a deciding factor in his taking the boat from Ostwick instead of continuing overland to Kirkwall as he’d initially planned, switching roles in their game of cat and mouse. However, a man he’d met as he traveled the Marches assured him that such laws were commonplace in Southern Thedas, and Fenris expected that much to be true.

“Tell that to the dead bodies, elf,” one of the guards snarled. The ruse was dropping. “Hands at your sides.”

The rattle of chains decided the matter. Never again, Fenris had pledged when he made his decision to flee. Had they planned to escort him without manacles, he might have complied, phasing through the cell and departing the city. With them in the mix, he found his spine turned to steal and the lines of lyrium in his skin itched angrily.

There was little difference between these guards and the men Danarius sent, after all. His sword would gut them just the same, his incorporeal fist would phase through their breastplates without effort.

It would be easy.

“Ho there! Guardsmen!” The bright voice cut the atmosphere, and a stout figure in bright blue armor came into view from a nearby alley. A dwarven women, with sunburnt cheeks and golden hair to match the heavy jewelry in her ears. She seemed half the size of the guards, yet with only a bow on her back she seemed more confident in her stride than most magisters. “What seems to be the problem, sers?”

The reaction of the guards to her was night and day, hands snapping away from blades and into a salute. “M-messere! To what do we owe the honor?”

“I was just walking the streets, overseeing my holdings. After all, I’m sure your old arl did the same, didn’t he?” Her face was round and pleasant, but her smile was as sharp as her words. Fenris knew how to catch the rebuke, even as he held back his surprise at a dwarf claiming to be the lord of Amaranthine. Did Ferelden have dwarven lords alongside the human ones? “Appraise me of the situation.”

“It’s nothing to concern yourself with,” the guards leader coughed into his hand. “Only apprehending this ruffian. You can see the damage he’s done.”

“I’ll decide what I’m to be concerned with,” she maintained that sharp smile, devious as any magister of the magisterium. “I see dead men, with serpent crests on their scabbards. Do you know what nation uses a serpent in its heraldry, guardman?”

“I… cannot say that I do, messere.”

“It’s Tevinter, guardsman. And he’s an elf. Please do put two and two together, I’ll wait.”

“That’s- that can’t be true. No slavers would dare step foot in Ferelden, and certainly not so soon after the Blight. You can’t say that these were slavers with such conviction, not when he massacred them so brutally!”

“I can, actually. I’ve met Tevinter slavers, in Denerim in fact, invited by your beloved Arl Howe during the Blight. I’ll not have you telling me what can and cannot happen in my city nor what I can or cannot do about it. But I’ll save you the trouble for now.” She finally turned her gaze away from the guards and her eyes bore directly into Fenris. “You seem quite good in a fight. I’m conscripting you. Welcome to the Grey Wardens, Conscript.”

[wipbigbang]

Story Title: Kindling

Fandom: Dragon Age II

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50714191/chapters/128110675

Summary: 

Marian may have helped Fenris clear out Danarius' men, but he isn't entirely certain that the mage he's now indebted to isn't free of ulterior motive, either. Unwilling to rub elbows with just any apostate, he keeps his walls up and her out, at least until they can get a feel for one another.

A fic taking place between their first meeting, and the cutscene where he breaks the Aggregio. I always felt they were too chummy by that point for having only just met. Takes place in a Twin!Hawke AU

Warnings: CW** Alcohol and Inebriation, (very) Minor Character Death, Loss of Control/Temper

Characters: Marian Hawke and Fenris, with cameos from Varric, Isabela, Carver, and Garrett.

Pairings: Fem!Hawke/Fenris, though this is the very beginning of their long and drawn out slow burn

When I Started: Almost a year ago to the day as a prompted warm-up, though the idea had been rattling around for awhile.

How I Lost My Shit: I hadn't really planned on making it a huge thing, got caught up in Whumptober 2022, and was in Solavellan turbo hell. Then BG3 happened and I lost my shit again.

How I Finished My Shit: By the seat of my pants. Seriously, though, I write on all my work breaks. I don't actually know what I'm going to do now that it's over.

[vivispec]

LOOK AT THIS LOVELY ART I am legit obsessed with @sweetmage's Fenris...they did such a good job with the broody man. Summary:

Marian may have helped Fenris clear out Danarius' men, but he isn't entirely certain that the mage he's now indebted to isn't free of ulterior motive, either. Unwilling to rub elbows with just any apostate, he keeps his walls up and her out, at least until they can get a feel for one another. A fic taking place between their first meeting, and the cutscene where he breaks the Aggregio. I always felt they were too chummy by that point for having only just met. Takes place in a Twin!Hawke AU

Fenris/F!Hawke, Missing Scene, Light Angst. CW Alcohol and Inebriation, Loss of Temper, and (very) Minor Character Death.

Click for full res!🃏

Some art for my dear friend @vivispec's lovely Fenris/F!Hawke fic Kindling, which you can read here. This was for the @wipbigbang :)

[telumendils]

every now and then i remember bioware gave one of its protagonists (hawke) the option to turn a formerly enslaved person back over to his former slave master with zero repercussions and i wanna scream.

[lethendralis-paints]

Happy Dragon Age Day, friends!

Today we’re celebrating our beloved game franchise that created a world full of morally grey characters...well, except for that asshole there who got what he deserved! Get him, Fen!

As always, a full resolution wallpaper version of this artwork is available for my patrons!

[hisfavoritewolf]

Razor

cw: Torture, PTSD

“Get up, Fenris.”

For the past three days, Fenris was in so much pain. It was enough that he’d been even inches from taking a deathly blow in a real battle. It had been too much to bear, too distracting to think properly. He didn’t even know where the pain came from... Or he didn’t want to admit it.

Now he was on his knees in the third courtyard, hunched over and looking terribly ill. The world spun around him and he didn’t know what to do. He’d lost control, his body rebelling against it all. Danarius glowered over him, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I— “

“Do not tell me that you can’t.” The magister reached down and yanked Fenris’ head up by the jaw. He was disappointed to find his slave completely dazed.

“Useless.”

He let go and kicked the elf onto his side, and Fenris was powerless to respond. Even if his body was well, he couldn’t have fought back. If he tried to defend himself, even curling slightly, it would be so much worse.

“You will know pain.”

Fenris could feel the heat before it spread across his back. Even despite the excruciating pain, there was only a whimper of pain that hid beneath the roaring whip of flames. The first burst was followed by a second— then a third. He could only barely hear Danarius shouting at the guards over the ringing in his ears. He could feel the markings trying to take control, to force him through the bricks beneath him. He couldn’t let it happen. He wouldn’t go back to that cell. He still couldn’t control it on his own, not just yet.

Two guards yanked him up by his armpits and dragged him away. Fenris vaguely noted passing by room after room, the bare feet of slaves and the decorative robes of nobles in the halls. He knew where he was going. A dark place reserved for one thing. Torment.

They strung him to the ceiling, bound by chains that had held too many slaves before him— Which would hold many more in years to come, with his knees propped up on a stool. They stripped him of his shirt. No need to soil custom-fit armor outside of battle, after all. 

He’d almost become numb to the pain when he heard Danarius again. Two simple words uttered with absolute resolve.

“Leave us.”

Heavy boots thudded out the door and disappeared down the hall. They were alone. Fenris tried to speak, tried to apologize, but all that came out was a hoarse wheeze and a spark of blue from the brands beneath his skin. He winced, blinking tears out of his eyes. For as many times as he was told not to show fear or pain, he couldn’t stop it. Not now, not here. It only made his master angrier.

Danarius summoned the same flames as before, but then Fenris heard the crackle of electricity. He felt as if all of his blood had drained from his body, his breaths completely halted. He’d expected heat or electricity across his back, maybe even wrapping around his neck. Not this. He didn’t think of what position he was in, too dazed to think.

Instead, he was greeted by a barrage of pain on the soles of his feet. His skin sizzled at the sensation of flames and lightning together, and he screamed. The room could have been lit without lanterns with how brightly the magic and lyrium glowed.

Fenris clawed at the chains, his knuckles turning white with the tightness of his grip. As if the dizziness and pain wasn’t bad enough, the tears alone were enough to blind him. Just before the pain had died down to a quiet agony, he was struck again; This time his lower back received the treatment.

The flames were so hot that it made him feel frozen. He’d exhausted his breath, any noises were now marred and torn apart. He felt blood trickling in his throat. He coughed, wheezing out what could barely be called breaths. He tried to apologize, to beg for forgiveness or for the pain to stop. Danarius had no such plans.

Three more lashes came in rapid succession across his shoulders and arms. If it weren’t for how well his master could control the flames, he was certain his hair would have caught fire. Just before the last lash, however, he slipped. One of his wrists had phased through the chains. The stool beneath him gave out —damned old wood— and he could hear the crunch of his scaphoid and lunate bones yanking away from his hand as he fell.

The magic stopped, blinking out of existence as Danarius dispelled his weapon. He snapped and the remaining shackle opened, sending Fenris tumbling to the ground. He stepped over the slave lying prone at his feet and promptly ground his heel into the elf’s back.

“You are nothing. Less than nothing.” He leaned down and grabbed Fenris by the hair, pulling him up to his knees. With a flick of the wrist, Fenris felt a gust of wind forcing him to his feet. Danarius let go and he fell forward into the wall. Every inch of him was shaking, muscles spasming. He cradled his wounded wrist and tried again to breathe. If he didn’t breathe, he’d surely pass out... But he couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not.

“Shall I reset the bone? Or are you still sniveling like an insolent child?” His master glared, flames rising from his palm again. “Face me, boy.”

He did as he was told. He turned to face his master even as the bricks behind him scraped his raw back. It would have been impressive that he was still standing but, as it was, it was more pitiful than anything. Danarius clicked his tongue, looking disappointed once more. “Well? Answer me,” He growled. “Your neck still works, does it not?”

Fenris nodded quickly. He coughed and tasted blood as it dripped down his lips. Yet, he mouthed ‘please.’ His master smirked, then grabbed his wounded arm and yanked the slave to him. He nearly dropped to his knees again, but he wasn’t really there anymore. He was a statue. Even as Danarius cast another spell to reset the bones.

“Your markings cause you pain, then...” He sighed. “If it happens again you are to ignore it. Do you understand?”

When Fenris nodded again, more numbly this time, his master smiled. “Good. Those markings are necessary if you are to serve me. Even the pain. Let’s get you back to your room, my pet.”

⁕⁕⁕ ⁕⁕⁕ ⁕⁕⁕ ⁕⁕⁕ ⁕⁕⁕ ⁕⁕⁕ ⁕⁕⁕ ⁕⁕⁕ ⁕⁕⁕ ⁕⁕⁕ ⁕⁕⁕ ⁕⁕⁕

Fenris ran a hand through his hair, gripping the ends tightly. He took another gulp of his wine —the last in the bottle— before throwing it against one of the many paintings on the wall. His breaths hitched and he slid down the wall. He forced himself to look up, keep the tears at bay, but to no avail.

It won’t leave me be. He won’t ever let me be. There is no peace in store. Never look back... There is only agony.

[wildercrow]

My Body Is a Cage

Fandom: Dragon Age II  Ship: Fenris/Justice Rating: M CWs: Sexual themes (nothing explicit), Alcoholism, Non-graphic references to past slavery/abuse AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34368964/chapters/85532755

A @dadrunkwriting prompt for @for-the-ninth, who suggested something inspired by Peter Gabriel’s cover of My Body Is a Cage! Unsurprisingly, my brain decided this was a Fenris and Justice song.

~*~*~

“May I…” Justice asks, hesitantly plucking at a button at the front of Fenris’ shirt. It sends a shiver down Fenris’ spine, and he’s not sure whether he likes that or not.

They’ve kissed several times, now. The spirit has been nothing but kind and well-mannered since they reunited, and the previously-insufferable mage he’s attached to seems to have cooled down since their time together in Kirkwall, as well. It’s not as if Justice is demanding marriage vows. He’s merely softly suggesting Fenris remove his shirt. They’ve seen each other in nothing but their smallclothes before during strip Wicked Grace, so why does this feel so much more vulnerable?

“No is an acceptable response,” Justice adds, because apparently Fenris’ response was too slow.

But it’s not that Fenris doesn’t want to. He desperately wants to. He wants to know what Justice’s mouth feels like on his lyrium scars. Wants to feel his fingernails on his bare back. Wants… more. Wants things he’s afraid to even envision or put into words for fear that he’ll make himself want them more.  

A lack of desire is not what makes him hesitate.

What makes him hesitate is fear. Visceral, petrifying fear that comes from a place that cannot be reasoned with. A place that could maybe be drowned out momentarily with enough alcohol, but Justice has made it abundantly clear that he will not be intimate with someone whose judgement is impaired. But what if his judgement is wrong? What if it needs to be impaired just to be normal?

Maybe this was a mistake.

“I… apologize,” Justice shrinks back and hangs his head, averting his glowing eyes. “It was presumptuous of me to ask. I’ve hurt you.”

Fenris growls in frustration, which just makes the spirit shrink back further. “No. Justice… no, you did not hurt me.”

The spirit looks… confused. Hopeful? He looks almost as vulnerable as Fenris feels.

Fenris inhales through gritted teeth. “Danarius hurt me. Magisters hurt me. I’m… trying not to hold that against you and Anders. But…” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “it’s not that easy. My mind knows you’re not responsible for what happened to me, but I’m not… I’m not certain my body knows yet. Give me time. Please?”

Justice eyes him sadly for a long moment, then nods, “Take all the time that you need. Would you like me to leave?”

Fenris lets out a soft puff of laughter, “Don’t leave. Just… keep my clothes on for now, all right? Come here, let me kiss you.”

The spirit gladly obliges, and Fenris marvels at how much less afraid he is than he was the first time they kissed. Perhaps they can make this work after all.

[transfenris-truther]

For the Fanfic asks, I was wondering about the following if you wanted to share :) A: How did you come up with the title to No Town More Barren Than our Town? F: a favorite hurt/comfort fic? M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

Thanks for the ask! :)

A: This is so silly, but I'm terrible at naming things. All of the fics I've posted are titled after lines in the Mountain Goats song Rain in Soho which just has SO MANY good Fenris lines in it and has a very vengeancey-sounding vibe in general. When I got very into The Mountain Goats in 2020, that song in particular made me want to write fanfic. As to that line in particular? I feel like a lot of the subtext in DA2 is about Kirkwall, about how this city is both a home and a cage for all of the characters, and about how every achievement Kirkwall gives to Hawke turns to ashes in his mouth. Its a city that can't produce anything meaningful for the characters and yet they keep living their lives there even though almost all of them would be better off elsewhere.

F: Okay so my favorite hurt/comfort fic that's explicitly tagged that way is this kinkmeme fic from 2012 about Fenris' relationship with sex: Let Me Show You by aka_pine_writer It's somewhat graphic and also sad (and obviously CW for pretty explicit references to rape/non con) , but the concept of dealing with Fenris' psychology and understanding after Danarius is obviously something that I'm really interested in.

Honestly, though, hurt/comfort isn't always my favorite thing to read. I tend to hop into straight up pwp and fluff way more often. For that, I HIGHLY recommend Spring by Rifa which is so so so good and underappreciated. If you want lovely Fenhawke growing old together content and you also enjoy pwp? It's perfect.

I'm honestly somewhat nervous to talk about the kind of fanfic I enjoy. It's something I'm trying not to be embarrassed by.

M: Yes! So there's two that live in 1-paragraph Google docs that I haven't really taken action on. The first is a cannon divergent fic where Hadrianna is a better barginer and Hawke and Fenris end up taking her all the way to the Tevinter border to let her go. Fenris can't resist the temptation to follow up on the information about Varania and he and Hawke end up finding her in Quarinus instead of her coming to Kirkwall. It needs a LOT of fleshing out but I probably will eventually write it.

The second is an incredibly self indulgent Fenris/Isabela fic that is basically a series of one-shots where they do piracy, politics, and polyamory. This ship just gives me an inordinate amount of energy. IDK if I will ever write it.

[felassan]

Interview: ‘Dragon Age Comics Writers Talk Dark Fortress, Characters and What Comes Next’

ComicBook.com recently had the opportunity to chat with DeFilippis and Weir via email all about the comics, the characters they have created, and what comes next.

New interview with the Dark Fortress writers! Spoiler warning for the comics and Dark Fortress, naturally, just in case. Highlights under the cut.

Q. What can you tell us at this point about the new comic series overall? Any teases for upcoming issues that you can share?

CW: The miniseries breaks into 3 parts:  Issue 1 is Figuring out how to get into Castellum Tenebris, which requires Fenris to come face to face with the heir of House Danarius. Issue 2 is getting into the Castellum and trying to stop the ritual in time. And Issue 3 is the big battle when they get there.

ND: She’s not kidding. Most of the third issue is this battle, and then we have the wrap up – the consequences, what’s next for the characters.

Q. Not that you can talk about it at all, but what would your reaction be to see some of these characters show up in the games?

ND: A big squee? Is that a legit answer?

CW: We’d be thrilled to see them in the games. We’re not sure how likely that is, though. We have always assumed that the characters we’re writing (including Fenris) were going to stay in the comics, and not appear in the games themselves.

ND: Some part of me hopes for mentions of our characters in the War Table. That would be cool enough, honestly. I think I secretly hoped our characters would be multiplayer characters. But with the removal of multiplayer, that hope dissipated. Still, like most Dragon Age fans, we’d rather have the game focused on the great single player storytelling experience that BioWare does so well, so it’s better this way.

Q. Obviously, it's not entirely your call, but any plans for further series after this?

CW: Well, the quick answer is absolutely. We know these characters so well, and while we feel like we wrapped the story we set out to tell, there is always so much more we can do with them.

ND: We don’t know if there will be more stories with this group, but if there are, this story points you towards what they’re doing next. We wrote it as an ending, so that “what they’re doing next” is a bit like Rick and Louis walking off into the night talking about the French Foreign Legion. So if it ends here, we’re wrapped. And if we get to do more, then we know where to go.

CW: A big part of what we’d do next will become clear when people read the ending. It really does, as Nunzio says, point you forward. But there are other things we’d want to tackle. Going deeper into Fenris’ memories of his time in Kirkwall would be one of them, which might require another Varric cameo.

ND: But that part hasn’t been run by the BioWare and Dark Horse teams. Some of the plans for what comes next was mentioned to them before we started writing Dark Fortress. There are no solid plans for there to be more miniseries. And we are planning that this is the end. But if they decide to do more, they know what stories we were looking at, and they liked the broad strokes of those, so that’d be where we’d start the discussions.

CW: And then we’d ask for Varric. [source]

[lingering-nomad]

Number 1 for Fenhawke for the OTP headcanons!

For the Sexual Headcanons Ask Meme.  (CW: canon sexual abuse mention)

1) Who tends to initiate? Does it change? Why?

Mostly Fenris.

Hawke tends to lead once they get momentum, but getting them started more or less remains Fenris’ prerogative.

For one thing, Fenris’ libido runs higher than Hawke’s, so it just occurs to him more often. (Hence the inside joke about ‘plucky elves’). There’s a certain power in it too. While enslaved in Minrathous, when and where and how he had sex depended entirely on Danarius’ moods. His own preferences were completely irrelevant – to the point that he didn’t really even have them. Being semi in charge of this aspect of his and Hawke’s relationship is an intensely liberating experience for him and one of the strongest hallmarks of his life as a free man.

As for Hawke, being an apostate who’s fought a hard (and ongoing) battle with himself about the risks of existing as an apostate and the right and ‘wrong’ of dragging someone else along for the ride, having that affirmation that he really is wanted by the man he loves, is very very validating.

[fairfaxleasee]

[Slow] dancing + Fenris/Cass? someone needs to take this boy out on the town!!

For @dadrunkwriting (Thanks to @xqueen0fhellx for letting me use her Damien Amell in this and my AU!)

CW: Anxiety, panic attacks, autism spectrum, Modern (University) AU

Cassia Hawke couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing in her hallway.  Not only did she have no idea how her cousin Damien had found her apartment (although her younger sister Bethany was at the top of the suspect list), but she had even less of an idea what he was doing with his arms full of stained papers and a single sneaker.

“Cousin Cass!  I did what you asked me!” Damien didn’t wait to be invited and strode into her apartment.

“Uhhhh... no you didn’t.”  Cass was positive she hadn’t told her cousin to do anything, let alone something that would involve him showing up at her apartment with... whatever it was he was holding.

“I did though!  Don’t you remember?  At the Dumar’s party last month you said we were going to spy on Danarius.”

“Uh, no, at the Dumar’s party I said I was going to look into Danarius’ business dealings.”

“Well... yeah, and while you did that, I did this!” he lifted his arms slightly to offer her whatever it was he was holding.

“Damien, I have no idea what that is.”

“I went through his trash!  And it was annoying because I had to climb over this really high fence to do it.”

Cass pursed her lips and tapped her fingers on her forehead.  “Okay, well we’re going to just pretend you didn’t confess to trespassing and theft...”

“See, these are a bunch of receipts for... well, I don’t know what they’re all for.  Oh, wait, and this looks like a coffee filter.  But I think the rest of these are receipts-”

“Damien...”

“I know he’s getting extra income from somewhere-”

“Damien!”

“So I brought them here because you’re good at all this thinking stuff!”

“DAMIEN!  When I said I was going to look into him I meant I was going to search through public records for his corporate filings and do a bit of catfishing.  The corporate stuff is public information and the catfishing is things he’s willingly telling me.  Or, well, willingly telling Cecelia.  But still.”

“Ohhh...” Damien sounded like he was finally listening to what Cass was actually telling him instead of the voice-over in his personal action movie.  “That sounds like a better plan now that you say it.”

“Yes.  And it’s also doesn’t involve trespassing or petty larceny.”

“Can I help with that?”

“No!”

“Do you need me to hack into anything?”

“NO!  That’s still illegal, Damien!  And I need whatever I’m going to use to be clean.”

“Well, what about catfishing?  Can I do that?”

Cass barely resisted the urge to throttle her overly-enthusiastic cousin, “I- yes, fine if that will get you out of here.  But no hacking!”

“So, what kind of profile do you think I should make up?  Can I see the one you’re using?  Can we hang out while I make it?”

“Damien, I am going to give you three seconds to get out the door before I push you out a window!  Fenris is coming over-”

“Can I meet him this time?”

“NO!” if Cass had her way about things Fenris would never be subjected to any of her relatives.  It was bad enough he’d already met Carver and Bethany (albeit briefly), Cass wasn’t about to impose another Amell on him.  She started shooing her cousin towards the door.

“Well, I guess I should leave to let you get ready.  You probably want to put something nice on.  Where are you going with him?  You should take him dancing!  Ooh!  Have you ever heard of the Hanged Man?  It’s this club-”

“Damien, just go back to your house and throw all that stuff out somewhere.  And don’t do anything else illegal!”

“Bye, Cousin Cass!  Let me know how your date goes!  I’ll call you when I have something-”

Cass gave her cousin one last shove and closed the door behind him.  She looked down at the clothes she was wearing and frowned.  They were clean, but that was all that could be said about them.  They were her usual combination of a tunic and leggings, and she liked them and was comfortable in them, they were far from nice.  Or pretty.  She’d never worn anything nice or pretty on any of their dates.

Although maybe it was unfair of her to consider what they did together ‘dating.’  He just came over to her apartment and they’d order carry out and watch movies.  She liked watching movies and eating carry out in her apartment, and she loved doing it with Fenris, but... She was probably boring him.  He’d been in a band; they’d met in the Hanged Man (even if Cass hadn’t wanted to go to the fucking club in the first place).

She bit her lower lip and tried to force herself not to cry.  She hadn’t managed to fuck anything up yet.  Maybe she had time.  She opened her phone and called Fenris.

“Cass?”

“Mm-hum.”  Great, of all the times for her throat to decide not to work.

“Cass, is everything alright?”

“Mm-hum.” She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to force herself to talk.  “I... um... I’ve got to do this quick thing.  I... I should be done before you get here, but I’m going to leave the door unlocked just in case.  So you can come in.  And I’ll have Dante and Squall with me so you don’t need to worry about that.  But it’s fine, okay?  I- I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Cass...”

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

She was slightly afraid he would try to call her again once she hung up, but didn’t have time to be relived he hadn’t as she tore to her bedroom in search of something that wouldn’t make her look like, in the endearing words of her brother, a ‘crazy bag-lady.’

It took a while to find.  Most of her regular clothes were similar to what she was wearing already and she had a few suits for competitions that she wore.  She’d tried on one of the dresses her mother had bought for her to wear to the parties she was supposed to go to, but it made her skin burn and crawl so she’d yanked it off before she’d even zipped it up.  She eventually found a knee-length black skirt (she had a fleeting thought that it might have been from her high school uniform, but as long as it didn’t look like it was from a high school uniform she wasn’t going to be picky) and a scoop-neck split sleeve blouse.  She glanced at her phone and cursed that it had taken her all but five minutes of the time she’d had between her cousin running his mouth (he obviously hadn’t meant anything by it, and while she wasn’t mad at him for causing it she was still furious it had happened) and Fenris’ arrival.  She rushed to the bathroom in a desperate search for make up.  She owned some basic stuff for her competitions, but it was to make her look professional.  She flung open cabinets and drawers in search of something as she tried not to focus on the sting of shame at what was in her medicine cabinet.

She heard the door to her apartment open and shook her head as she tried to apply what she’d found in a way that wouldn’t end up with her looking like a toddler who’d gotten into its mother’s purse.  She couldn’t enjoy the fact that she’d managed it because when she looked at the reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t recognize the woman staring back at her.  Actually, that wasn’t true.  She knew exactly who was staring back at her.  ‘Cassia Amell Hawke’ was staring back at her.  The daughter her parents wanted was staring back at her.  Someone normal was staring back at her.  Someone Fenris deserved was staring back at her.  The woman she could never be was staring back at her.  She felt tears begin to prick the edges of her eyes before a voice from the living room distracted her.

“Cass?”

She wiped her eyes quickly as she answered, “Yes!  Sorry, Fenris, I’ll be right out!”  She grabbed the only pair of heels she owned as she tore from the bedroom.

“Cass!”  She watched Fenris’ expression change as he took in her appearance.  She bit her lip as she admonished herself silently for not being able to understand what any of it meant.  “Cass, why are you wearing that?”

“I... um... do you not like it?”  She hadn’t even considered Fenris may not like what she was wearing.

“I - no!  You look... stunning but, it’s not what you usually wear.”

“I... well... I thought... I thought maybe we could do something different tonight.”

“Like what, Cass?”

“I... like we could go... out to dinner?”

“Hmmm... we could do that.”  He was smiling.  She didn’t think anything was off about the smile so she smiled back.

“And then we could go somewhere nice after?  Like a club or a bar or something?”

Something was wrong with his smile as she finished.  “Are you sure, Cass?”

“Mm-hum.”  She nodded.  She was sure, she just couldn’t bring herself to actually claim she was sure.

“Let’s see how you feel after dinner.”

“I... okay.”  She hung her head as she tried to keep smiling.  She’d obviously done something wrong.  Maybe if she could figure out what it was she’d be able to fix it.

They had a fairly nice time at dinner.  Fenris mentioned he knew a Seheron restaurant he liked that didn’t do carry-out so they went there.  It was definitely noisier than Cass’ apartment, but it wasn’t overwhelming.  As they left, Fenris reached a hand around her waist to press her gently to him and whisper, “Should we head back, Cass?”

She turned to him, “I - No!  I said we could go dancing.  So let’s go to a club.”

“Cass...”

“Do you not want to?”

“Do you want to?”

“Mm-hum.”  She wanted to want to.  That was close enough.  He turned away.  She reached out and grabbed his collar as she felt her breathing get heavier.  She pulled him towards her as her eyes drifted away.

“Cass...” she felt him sigh above her.  “If you’re sure, Cass.”

She nodded and pulled him closer.

“Alright, I know a place that’s not far.”

Cass had no idea what club Fenris had taken her to, but she knew she hated it.  It was just as bad as the Hanged Man (although for all she knew, it was the Hanged Man again, she’d blocked most of the specifics of the place out): flashing lights, crowds of people, loud music, somehow louder voices, the stench of cigarettes, alcohol, and cologne.  It was as though the entire place were determined to make her as miserable as possible as quickly as possible.  She thought Fenris was trying to talk to her.  She couldn’t hear him.  She tried to focus on looking happy; pretending to belong.  Keeping up her desperate façade of normalcy for as long as possible as the fire the overstimulation set off in every nerve in her body overwhelmed and consumed her.

The next thing she was fully aware of she was outside with her head pressed against a concrete wall as she gulped lungfuls of cold night air.

“Feeling better, Cass?”

She turned her head slightly to look at Fenris.  His whole expression was funny - he wasn’t trying to smile, and he didn’t look angry, but she couldn’t for the life of her understand his slightly furrowed eyebrows.  She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath.  She didn’t want to make him wait any longer so she bit her tongue to try to force it to start working.  “Yeah... um, just give me a second and we can go back in.”

“We’re not going back in, Cass.”

Her eyes flew open and she turned to Fenris in a panic, “I can do it better, Fenris!  Just tell me what I did wrong and I can make it right!”

“Cass, you were miserable in there.”

“I’m sorry!  I know I’m not supposed to be.  I can- I can get better at pretending it’s fun!”

“Cassia, listen to me,” he reached out and hovered a hand over her cheek.  She knew she shouldn’t - she didn’t deserve it - but she leaned into his touch.  He rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone.  “You don’t have to pretend with me.  I don’t want you to pretend with me.  I want to be with you, not anyone else.”

“I don’t understand, Fenris...”

“Do you believe me?”

“Yes.”  She reached up to grab his wrist.

“That’s enough, Cassia.”

“But...  but I want to do more, Fenris.  You deserve more.”

“Hmm...” he slid his hand off her cheek and around her back to press her to his chest.  “Is there anything you think we didn’t get to do tonight?”

“I... we didn’t get to dance.  That’s what people go to clubs for, right?”

“We don’t need a club to dance, Cass.  Here, give me your phone.”

She slid it out of her pocket, unlocked it, and handed it over.  She saw his eyes narrow at the screen.  “Fenris?”

“It’s nothing, Cass.  I’m just going to have to have a long talk with this Cousin Damien of yours at some point.”

“Fenris, nothing good ever comes from talking to my Cousin Damien at any length.”

“Well, I agree with that, but I don’t intend to let him off the hook.  But let’s leave that for now.”

Cass watched the light of the screen reflect on Fenris’ face for a few seconds before music began to play.  ‘I see trees of green; Red roses too.’  She leaned into him and wound her arms behind his head.  He reached down with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone to reach around her waist as they swayed to the music.  She wasn’t sure it counted as ‘dancing,’ but she was sure she wasn’t able to do anything more just then.  She leaned away from slightly so she could press her forehead to his, “I think this is the first time I’ve liked this song.”

She felt him laugh, “My thoughts exactly, Cassia.”