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greypetrel · 6 months ago

Note

thank you for answering, here is my reaction request, feel free to deny it if it's something you don't feel like doing:

Dragon Age 2, between Acts 1 and 2. Mage!Hawke, Fenris, Varric, Aveline + whoever else you would like to include. FenHawke being the main focus:

Hawke faints while walking around Kirkwall, surprising everyone, eventually they find out Hawke has been starving themselves to make sure their family has enough to eat… I headcannon that magic and spellcasting consume a lot of the bodies natural resources, so mages need to consume more calories, hence why they like bread and cheese so much

Hello!

Sorry if I’m late, it took me a little thinking and I am generally a little intimidated from writing Fenhawke, as much as I love to read it. It feels like so much has been told already, but I eventually took the courage. Thank you for pushing me towards something I wouldn’t have done on my own, I hope you’ll like it!

I interpreted it as “how each would react seeing Hawke faint” and went with it. For Fenris, it’s a little ficlet. I had my fenrismancer Hawke in mind, but I tried not to make it too specifical for him. I only allowed myself one little concession, which is some terrible humour (and a reference to pop culture, let’s pretend in Kirkwall they know Backstreet Boys as a travelling band of dancing minstrels). Adding Sebastian too even if he's not recruited yet. It felt bad to leave only him out, and I think it'll be sweet to have him around. everything under the cut, because with no one's surprise, IT LONG.

Varric: “Hawke? Shit, Hawke! Don’t do this to me, you’re too heavy for me to bring you back.”

He will bring you back on his own if he has to. You’ll wake up in a room at the Hanged Man, with Varric and Anders in the room. Anders will sigh and bid you good morning, and comment that you have been lucky in not bumping your head against something. You just need to eat, and plenty. Before going, he will tease Varric about acting like a mother cat defending her kitten. Once alone, Varric will sigh and tiredly scold you: You only should have told him that you had trouble with food. Didn’t you trust him for help, already? After Bartrand, you’re a little like family, and he’ll love to help at least you. No, he’s not at all offering you a room and plenty of food because he may or may not have made you the main character of a thing he’s writing. Pointless slander.

Aveline: “Hawke? Hawke, wake up!”

She didn’t move you, in case you bumped your head too strong. She called a guard passing by to bring Anders here, you’re waiting for them to be back. She’ll ask you how you’re feeling, you fell down like a wet shirt and she got worried. You’re also looking pale, and she told you that you were overdoing it and she doesn’t want you to be sick and- Her rant gets interrupted by Anders. He heals you, checks that your skull isn’t in fact broken, does a check up. He frowns and tell you that you really need to eat. Aveline’s worry only grows: You’re not eating? Why? How? Why didn’t you ask for help? Of all the shenanigans and reckless things, she wasn’t expecting this. She grumbles, helping you stand and forcibly bringing you to the first inn in sight. On her: she never really thanked you for helping her out of Fereldan and into the city, this seems a good chance as any. And oh, the Guard Captain will know that people in Lowtown have no food. He’ll know it.

Anders: “What- Hawke!”

You’ll wake up with him glaring daggers at you, complaining that you’re an idiot, and you thought you could hide it with him? Oh no. He knows of being hungry, and you really only had to ask him. He’ll produce from his pocket a linen cloth with some homemade snack in it. It’s a bar made with cereals and honey and dried nuts: the wife of a patient gave some to him this morning, he’s happy he was late to meet you and he forgot the one he wanted to eat for breakfast in his pocket. He’s fine, he ate yesterday and you didn’t. He’ll urge you to eat: it’ll give you enough strength to make it home. He'll tell you that you can’t help anyone if you starve yourself: and that if you need help, you have friends to ask for. You can ask him, after all: you showed him your friendship more than once already, and he’d be glad to give something back.

Isabela: “Hey! It’s too soon for swooning!”

She managed to drag you into a shady corner, out of the way. She’s sitting beside you with a dagger out, to make sure no one gets any ideas. She’ll ask you if you made sweet dreams, and tease you that she’s beautiful, but you could at least contain yourself and avoid swooning. It was really embarrassing on your part and look, she was forced to show a conscience and that was very rude of you. She’ll tease you while fussing over you, and a joke after the other, it’ll turn out that you’re just hungry and not eat it. You can tell her, or your stomach will grumble. Her smile will turn sad, but she’ll cast everything off with a joke. That’s just it? You’re hungry? Why didn’t you say sooner! She knows just the place: the dirtiest hole in the Docks, it’s not the Hanged Man but it can hold its own. More interestingly, the innkeeper owes her a favour, and it’s surely lunchtime, somewhere. She could eat and she will: you can come with her if you’d like. She won’t make you feel bad one minute, and accepting her help will only seem like your own decision, not as pity.

Merrill: “Hawke? Hawke! Oh Mythal, no no no!”

You wake up with a balsamic smell in your nostrils: focusing, it’s Merrill’s hand, crushing some dried leaves with her fingers. Your feet are up on a wooden crate, and she rolled her scarf under your head as a makeshift pillow. She smiles when she sees you’re awake, and lowers her hand to start trafficking with her pouches. She tells you that she got worried, and didn’t know what to do. Thankfully you were close to the stalls she buys her fruit from, and she asked the kind lady that owns it for help to move you to the side. She also gave her the crate, you know that when you faint is very important to keep your feet up? So the blood can rush to your brain again, you need that more than your feet. Not to say that you won’t need your feet anymore! She fumbles with words, and soon enough you’re both laughing. She keeps smiling, and tells you that when people fainted, in the clan, the Keeper always said that some sugar was just what was needed. She picks some dried fruit from a pouch, and urges you to eat it: it’ll make you feel better right away, she’s sure. She dried the plums herself, and always carries them and some roasted nuts with her, as a snack. You can have it, come on. She gave you a full handful -your handful of it, but if you make her notice, not thanking her right away, she’ll casually shrug and say she can’t never tell with humans, you’re all so bigger than elves. Her pouch is already secured at her belt.

She’ll wait for you to eat and be ready to stand up again, chatting all the way about her clan, and what she did when someone was sick. She pushes on good food and plenty of rest, very casually. Once you’re ok, she’ll insist to stand by your side, and accompany you somewhere. She’ll suggest the Hanged Man -it’s close!- or Anders’ clinic, but will walk you home if you insist. Anywhere you go, you’ll be discreetely served food without an explanation. It’s not lunchtime, but people are eating with you. If you go home, the next morning there’ll be a basket full of groceries and food. No note, nothing at all: but a small pouch filled with more dried plums.

Sebastian: “Sweet Andraste, Hawke!”

You wake up in a shady corner, this time under the covering of a stall. He knew the stall-owner, they met in the Cathedral and prayed together. He sells cheese, here, you can have some, lad, it will make you feel better. Sebastian isn’t doting on you, properly, but he is helpful. He asks you if you’re feeling well, and if he can help. Please let him help, it’s the least he can do to repay you from your kindness. Pointing out to him that he doesn’t have to do it, you didn’t help him to have anything in return will make him sigh, heavily. It’s with the utmost seriousness and sincerity that he’ll answer, promising you that he’ll help you nonetheless. Not only because the Maker wants him to, but because your differences don’t matter much. He won’t leave any companion he spent time with in need. He may not be sure of what he wants to do in life, but he’s very sure that he wants to help you and show you some kindness. As you have shown him. Can he offer you something? Can he help? Your choice in accepting it or not: he won’t recognize what’s going on, but whether you want to be brought at home, to Anders or anywhere else, you have him by your side. He’ll stop by your house the next day to check you’re all right. The moment he’ll know you haven’t been eating? It’s not stealing from the Church if the food was meant to be shared with those in need.

Fixing a Hole (🎶)

[ FenHawke || No warning || 2389 words ]

And it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong, I'm right Where I belong, I'm right Where I belong See the people standing there who disagree and never win And wonder why they don't get in my door - Fixing a Hole, The Beatles

The world blurred first, and then it quickly became black.

“Hawke?”

It was the last thing Garrett heard, noticing with exhilaration what was happening. A last moment of clarity when he felt his limbs losing strengths and saw the world shifting. Fenris’ voice sounded alarmed, which only contributed to the excitement of the moment. Thankfully, everything went black and he lost conscience before he could blush.

He dreamt of the farm.

A sunset in early summer: the air was still warm from the long day, and the sun painted the wheat field in firey oranges and golds. Everything looked gold, and Garrett smiled at the sweet memory. He could smell the fields, the earth baked by the sun, and he knew that if he turned, he would have met with Bethany, leaning out of the windowsill and calling him for dinner. He longed to turn and see her, and at the same time knew he shouldn’t. It was still too painful, at least in his dreams, to see his little sister there, smiling. If only…

You can have it.

Someone whispered, voice brought by the wind. Garrett closed his eyes, away from the sunset, away from childhood and happiness. He had been happy, then: he didn’t fully realize until everything was lost. But it was not the first time he dreamt of home. A home where they thrived, a home where they had been happy, a home where he didn’t let Bethany die, and Carver hadn’t hopefully been killed by the Wardens he left him with. A home where he could look at his mother in the eyes without feeling blame and guilt creeping up his throat.

It wasn’t the first time and he knew what to do.

Take a deep breath, concentrate on how your chest rises and falls, on the sensation of air filling your lung. Stay in the moment, in the present, the past is gone and the future an illusion. The dirt under your feet, the smell of summer in the air, the warm caress of the last sunrays: they are gone, you can’t have it, they don’t exist anymore. They burnt and you couldn’t have done nothing to prevent it.

He concentrated on the good things he had: he was alive, his mother was alive, things were looking up and soon enough he would have sold everything and had the money to get a home for real. He had some friends, some real ones that knew he was a mage and he didn’t need to hide from. He loved them, and they loved him back. They wouldn’t want for him to stay there, lose himself in dreams. Kirkwall was nice, from the bazaar in Hightown the sunsets were pretty. Prettier, when he was there, leaning on the balcony and chatting with-

“You can have this. You can have me.”

He startled, his eyes opened as he felt a hand closing on his own. At his side, there was Fenris, looking at him with his usual serious expression. Something melted in his eyes, tho: something soft took place of the constant challenge he saw in them, the suspicion and mistrust. His heart did a double leap as he saw his lips curve up in a smile.

“You just need to say yes,love. And we can stay here. Forever. Far from Templars, far from Magisters. Far from guilt. It will be just as you want, and I will never leave your side.”

For the first time in years, Garrett felt tempted. He didn’t realize he had it so bad for the elf: he was good company, reliable in battle, and he liked him, sure. Physically, and his humour. He also knew it was impossible, between him being a mage and the other’s past. And now… He realized that yes. That was what he wanted. Something impossible in real life, and…

… Something was wrong.

The way Fenris turned, the way his lips opened in a wide smile, showing teeth, and he leaned so minutely towards him, still holding his hand.

“What about Danarius?” Garrett forced himself to ask.

“What about him? He doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t you want to get your freedom? End the chapter?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I have you, I’m happy like that.”

Garrett closed his eyes, the illusion clear as day in front of him. He held his hand, lingering on what never could have been for a moment still. It had been nice, until it lasted.

“He would never say that.” He opened his eyes and smiled at the demon. “And I would never say yes to him. Not in this way.”

He explained. Kindly, because it was just the way it was. Getting angry wouldn’t have brought him anyway.

The face of Fenris rippled and twisted in a snarl, the details got blurred.

I know your one desire.

“Oh well, as the wise man said.” He sighed, letting that hand go. It had started to grow talons and pinch uncomfortably against his own, anyway. “Ain’t nothing but a heartache.”

He quietly sang, stepping back and snapping his fingers.

Magic, at least, always came easier in dreams. He watched, as flames engulfed the demon, Fenris’ shape twisting and morphing, showing horns until he blinked, skin turning purple, teeth growing sharp. A piercing shriek filled the air, and soon enough everything was on fire. The wheat in the field, the old oak tree at the end of the courtyard, the chicken coop, the well and the farm, Bethany still on the window, frozen in place.

Would you set your own home on fire? The demon shrieked, in a last attempt at swaying him.

Garrett smiled, genuinely sorry for ruining the demon’s day like so. It was its nature, after all, and a part of him was grateful for the small glimpse of clarity it gifted him. It was easier to fight, if you knew your limits and what you wished.

“I already did.”

His eyes opened, and he looked blearily at… Wooden planks that looked old and like they were just about to crumble to dust.

Not the sky framed by Lowtown sandy buildings.

Weird.

“You’re awake.”

Garrett turned, blinking bleariness away. He didn’t recognize the place, but he recognized that voice.

Fenris was sitting on a stool, leaning his back against a wall whose paint was so scrapy and dirty that it could only mean that they were at the Hanged Man. For a moment, Garrett thought it was yet another dream. But the elf was typically grumpy, and frowned at him with an expression that was all too familiar.

“Am I?” He asked, still dubious.

“Hawke.” Fenris rolled his eyes, already exasperated.

It only made Hawke grin, calming down as he realized that it wasn’t, maybe, a dream. Only one way of knowing it. He just needed to wait for the right occasion for it.

“Where are we?” He asked instead.

“The Hanged Man. You fainted on the street, we were close.”

“You brought me all the way up here? I’m flattered.”

“So little you think of me, to believe I would have left you in the middle of a street?”

Hawke turned to his side, to face him better. His head still spinned something nasty, and he knew that standing up would not have done him any good. He saw one too many patients in Anders’ clinic to know that he would have had to be dragged up to bed again. It wasn’t a particularly appealing option. Or well, it was, but the context was wrong, and as many things he would have joked about, that wasn’t one. So, he just settled down better, and looked at Fenris in front of him, turning serious.

“I do not. But thank you anyway.”

“For what?”

“For staying.”

He saw the other scoffing, averting his eyes to the side and shrugging it off with a remark on how irresponsible it would have been, after a whole year of looking up for one another in battle. It brought a smile on Garrett’s face.

“How are you feeling?” Fenris asked, after a while.

“I’ll be good, I just need to lie down a bit.”

“Hawke.”

“I swear! I’ll take a nap and be as good as new. Nothing happened.”

“Hawke.”

“What’s the worse it can happen? Maybe I’ll die, so what. Everybody dies, sooner or later, is just another part of life. Never understood why people are so scared about it… I’ll be one Mage less, at least.”

“Hawke.”

There, the chance. He didn’t think about why that “Hawke” sounded different. It was all typical, but…

“Do me a favour.” He asked him, sighing as he rolled back heavily on his back. “When I die, cremate me.”

“Are you-”

“It’ll be my last chance to have a smokin’ hot body, after all.”

He arched his back, stretching just for show. The low, exasperated groan that followed was part a victory, part a relief. It wasn’t the Fade after all. In the Fade, all the demons laughed at his jokes, they were a great appreciative public.

“If you’re jesting, it means you’re feeling better.”

Hawke turned, grinning from one ear to the other as the elf, in a clear complaint, kicked back the stool and rose up. He saw the faintest trace of a smile on his face, and it was then impossible to pretend he was sorry.

“Leaving me so soon? All by myself? What if I die.”

“I’ll risk having you on my conscience.”

He reached the door and opened it, placing half a step on the threshold. He hesitated then, eyes lost fixating on something in front of him and brows furrowed in thoughts. Hawke stayed there, not that there was much choice but that.

“I am not so cruel as to leave you in such a state.” He said, finally, as if each word burned in his throat. He turned towards Hawke, still a crease between his brows that wasn’t totally obscured by a silver lock of hair. “I know we have… Our differences, but the next time, please tell me.”

Hawke frowned at that.

“Tell you what?”

He couldn’t know, could he? He would expect Anders to notice, or Merrill. People with experience in treating others. Surely not the broody warrior. As much as he tried to flirt with him, suddenly the idea of being so much in the open, so vulnerable and raw, scared him. He swallowed, not daring lowering his eyes first.

“Just tell me, Hawke.”

He didn’t say another word: just nodded to the side, casting him a look that was all too eloquent, and on another person, another less broody and aloof person could almost have been taken for worry, went out the room, without a word more or waiting for an answer.

Hawke turned on his back and groaned aloud, covering his face with both hands. Of all the people he could faint in front of, it just had to be Fenris. His typical luck. The one he shily wanted to impress, and the one that he didn’t really feel like he could complain about his situation without sounding whiny about it.

He wondered how he was gonna pay for the room.

He wondered, a little later, how was he gonna pay for the full meal that was brought inside the room. Steaming soup, a whole roast with vegetables, drowned in gravy on the small table before he could protest. Peas and potatoes with a thick slice of ham. Two pints of beer.

Hawke almost fell ashamed, but it was a fleeting moment. Fenris shrugged, as he took a big gulp from the tank and scrunched his nose in disgust, glaring at the offending beverage. It broke the tension, and soon enough they both were eating and drinking, friendly arguing about whether beer or wine was better. Hawke laughing and Fenris smiling.

“Fenris?” Hawke asked, in the end when conversation has naturally ended and he felt better, both physically than emotionally.

“Yes?”

“I do not think you’re cruel.” A pause. “I never did.”

An eyebrow rose in his direction, skeptical, as the only answer he got.

“You just have shitty opinions about us mages, but cruel? Nah.”

He huffed, shrugging it off, and rose again, changing the topic abruptly and informing him it was time for him to go. And that the room had been taken care of and not to worry about it. He could stay until the next morning. A pang of guilt and shame rose back in Hawke’s throat, but he nodded, without complaining.

“The next time you feel like I need to change my mind, please find better ways to prove it.” The elf told him, helping him out the bed when Hawke insisted to at least rise up to bid him goodbye. With his belly finally full after days, he felt strong enough for it.

“Were you worried?” Hawke meant it as a mock, but it slipped out of his lips without a bite. It sounded all too hopeful for his tastes and he would have bonked his head against the wall.

“Yes.” Fenris just replied, seriously enough.

“Ah.” He averted his eyes, embarrassed. “Well, I’m sorry and… Thank you, I mean, for helping me. You didn’t have to.”

There was silence, for a full minute, heavy and tense. Or maybe it was Hawke reading too much into it, as the topic fell dangerously close to feelings and crushes he knew were totally one-sided and would never have been reciprocated.

“I am of the understanding, that helping is one of the basic requirements of friends.” Fenris finally spoke. “It would be pointless to be so lucky as to have some, without accepting help in return.”

He patted, quickly, his shoulder, and nodded a goodbye, leaving him for the night. Hawke, smiling again, stepped out of the door, watching his back as he strode down the corridor.

“Fenris?”

“Yes?” He stopped and turned.

“Is the mysterious benefactor that paid for this Varric, or is it you?”

Fenris bent one corner of his mouth.

“I promised not to tell. But I’d order the lobster for breakfast.”

Garrett Hawke hated Kirkwall. He missed the countryside, the wheat fields and the pumpkin patch, fresh vegetables and a clean stream. Today, tho, he hated it a little less, and let hope bloom in his chest.

#da2 #dragon age fanfiction #character reactions #male hawke #fenhawke #petrel replies #garrett hawke #writing petrel #I know Merrill's longer but uh- I'm a Merrill stan.#This should probably have been done in two posts #but oh well #if you're here from 10 minutes you MAY have noticed I'm wordy uwu"#hope you liked it and it was what you meant!

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