#and he sees that in orana

[thewardenisonthecase]

something about what fenris says when he meets orana, when she says everything was fine until today and he replies "it was never fine you just didnt know" (i think he says that but i could be misremembering the second part)

[tragicblondie]

thinking about the ending of dragon age 2 as a mage hawke who sided with the mages at the end of the fifth blight, the warden defeats the archdemon and saves ferelden. they are paraded through denerim to the sounds of cheering crowds. if they don't survive, their memory lives on in a tale of great heroism and sacrifice for years to come. the inquisitor celebrates at skyhold with the rest of their companions after they beat corypheus, the threat finally ended, the inquisition a success.

but not hawke. you can fight with everything you have to support the mages, but there is no grand fanfare when it is over. the villain succumbs to corruption and dies unceremoniously - you don’t even get the satisfaction of striking the killing blow. you can’t get a round at the hanged man to celebrate. it’s time to go. you and your friends can never sit around your table at the hanged man again. you can’t be seen here when the templars come to clean up the mess. nothing will be the same. you have given seven years of your life trying to hold kirkwall together, accepted your accolades and played the part of champion, and you watch it fall apart anyway. and how much of that is your fault? this city has been stained in your blood since before you could remember, since before the blood was your own.

you lost your sister when you lost your first home. even so, you tried to live by the advice you gave fenris - when you stop running, you build a life. the estate that you clawed your family back into stands looming and empty. it is the last place you saw your mother alive, and you still can't bear to touch her things, and you will never even see her room again. bodahn and sandal are making preparations to leave for orlais, orana will find other work with the skills she's learned, and the house will remain, a hollow testament to your family's legacy. gamlen will hear only the stories. your brother fought by your side when it mattered, despite everything. even so, he will stay behind, and you might never see him again.

no, there is no time for a celebration. instead you get a cautious acknowledgement from the templars, a tense goodbye, and then you can never go home again. for the second time. you thought you could build a life, and you tried. you held on as long as you could, you made friends, you fell in love, you clung to the last vestiges of your family, but most of them will be forced to leave your side anyway. you won, but even that wasn't enough.

[visenyaism]

If you’re still taking Great Bastard OCs, my self-indulgent OC (named Orana after Orys B as an inside joke for mom and mom alone) bc the seed is strong is able to pass for her husband’s kid that just REALLY takes after her Baratheon mom. It’s only if you look close that you’d notice she and Aegon4 have the same nose, and their mouths quirk the same way before they say something shitty. The brief affair happened when he was younger (they shared a love of hawking and a strange sense of emptiness that neither knew how to address lol) and is overshadowed at court by the Daena affair, but he doesn’t know about or pay much mind to Orana outside of an absentminded “kid’s got spunk - good thing she looks like her mom rather than her father”, not realizing just how fortunate that is lol. She ends up having more than a passing resemblance to Larra Rogare but it’s funny how hair/eye color and mannerisms can throw off perception. Mom worries about another Lothston situation so she keeps Orana away from court and gives her the heads up about her parentage. So she lives with the resentment and paranoia of her secret ever being revealed and losing her legitimacy and ends up being v 😐😒 about Targs and the Great Bastards in general. Marries a Dayne around the same time Dany I gets married bc then nbd if any kids have purple eyes. Despite her 😒 toward the family, ends up having a lifelong affair with Dany. Their shared father remains an elephant in the room. Dany has eyes - she sees both the resemblance and how Orana flinches from it - and although Orana’s existence is an insult to Dany’s mother, sharp-tongued Orana, with a grin like a secret, eating plums and dipping her toes in the water garden is so hard to resent. Aegon’s daughters after all. Accounts of their close companionship become a source of confusion for the maesters. Only contribution to the rebellion is a handful of letters where she fact-checks the Dany/Daemon B shit that the Blackfyre supporters keep repeating. Not that she cares!

Oh wow this is compelling. Good for Orana that she gets out of the Targaryen doom vortex and into Dorne a little bit but you never fully escape it do you

[adainesjacket]

Happy Friday and welcome to DADWC! How about “I just want to be close to you. As close as you allow me to be.” for Handers?

happy friday, thanks for having me! this snippet is set after the DA2 quest 'dissent'. @pinkfadespirit @dadrunkwriting

m!hawke/anders, hurt/comfort(ish), 718 words

"The lamp isn't lit, messere."

Hawke turns his head, frozen in the act of knocking on the wooden clinic door. A girl too young to be out in the dark and the cold stares at him, arms folded, a cross expression on her little face.

"I know," he says unnecessarily. "I just-"

"If the lamp isn't lit," she continues, staring him down, "the healer is not available."

"Yes, but-"

"And he needs to rest."

"I completely agree with you," Hawke says quickly, before she can interrupt him again. "One hundred percent. But he's my friend, and he's not come out in a few days, and I just need to check on him. Okay?"

This mollifies her, but only a little. She chews on her lip as she considers him. "You're really his friend?" She asks after a moment.

"I am," Hawke agrees, and hopes that it's still true, just as he'd hoped that giving Anders Ser Alrik's papers would have calmed him, just as he'd hoped that they could breeze past this 'unfortunate incident' like he breezed past everything else. He had been a fool.

"You'll make him rest?" The little girl presses. "We're all worried about him."

"I'll try my best," Hawke promises, and only when she finally huffs an assent does he raise his fist back up and rap on the door. "Anders? It's me. Can you open the door? Please?"

There was no answer, but Hawke knew better than to give up on the first try. Especially with Anders, the stray cat of a man.

"Anders," he tries again. "Please. I want to help."

He's elated when he hears shuffling on the other side of the door, but moments pass and Anders does not speak or let him in. Hawke looks around to see if the little girl is still listening, but she has vanished into the dark.

"So this is where you give up?" He asks, softer in tone but loud enough that Anders can hear him through the heavy wood door. "One mistake, one scared but unhurt girl, and the embodiment of Justice locks himself away?"

"Stop it," Anders says, and his voice is rough and raspy but oh, it is such a relief to hear him. "You shouldn't be here, Hawke."

"What, because the lamp isn't lit? People are worried about you, Anders. I'm worried about you. Will you please let me in? If I break down the door I think the good people of Darktown will string me up."

"No," Anders says, sighs, really. "Hawke - what do you want?"

You, he thinks, desperately. I want to go back to how we were before this happened. I want to flirt with you, and trade barbs, and watch each other's back. I want to get my boots out of Darktown puddles, come through this door and hold you so tightly you forget how to hate yourself.

"I just want to be close to you," he says, instead of all the messy words his heart would rather put in his mouth. "Because you need company. And if this is as close as you'll allow me to be…" The cobbled street is cold, damp, and uninviting. With a silent apology to Orana, he sits down on the stoop of the clinic, his back to the door. "I'll just wait here."

He hears the sound of a body sliding down wood, and knows that Anders is mirroring him, that they are sat back to back, unable to look each other in the eye. Somehow he feels closer to him than he ever has before. But Anders doesn't say anything more, even though Hawke can still hear his breathing beyond the wood, and occasionally a sob.

"Messere."

Hawke, cold and half-asleep, jerks his head up to see the little girl has returned. She's carrying a clay mug of something steaming.

"Broth," she says, thrusting it towards him. "From my mother. The healer helped her with her leg, last summer."

Hawke takes it gratefully, frozen fingers curling around the warm clay. "Give her my thanks," he says. "And get yourself in the warm, okay?"

She nods. "Will you stay with him?"

With his free hand, Hawke traces the grain of the wooden door, imagines Anders's hand doing the same on the other side. "I will," he promises.

[lottiesnotebook]

Happy DADWC day!

Ok so this is weirdly specific, but feel free to be open in the interpretation. So I want more Cara, because of course I do 😅 and I saw this prompt in one of your lists : your OC’s description of their game’s events.

But I'd like to alter that slightly... So you said she was born after an ill-advised post deep roads encounter (I forget your exact words) so... Therefore she saw a lot of the DA2 narrative... As a kid... So I would like to see her interpretation of any of the DA2 events 😝

Ask for more Cara Hawke-Laidir and you shall receive! I don't know if this counts as exactly what you asked for, but the end of Dragon Age 2 is possibly the most formative moment in her whole life (pre-Veilguard, at least) so this is what you get! Apologies in advance, this turned out WAY longer than I expected...

Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Orana, Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Anders, Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Rhiannon Hawke, Justice/Rhiannon Hawke/Anders (mentioned), angst, tragedy, canonical terrorism

@teine-mallaichte | @dadrunkwriting

when hell bares its teeth

Cara was curled up in her favourite window-seat when the world ended. She felt the explosion rather than heard it - a low reverberation that shook the house to its foundations and cracked the panes of the window she was snuggled against. She flinched away from it in shock and rolled onto her knees, peering out through the broken panes, her book cradled against her chest. The street outside was empty, peaceful, even - but as she glanced up, she could see the climbing column of smoke cutting the bright blue sky in two.

"Orana?" she called out, her voice trembling. There was no immediate reply. She forced herself to her feet. Orana was the grown-up, and on days when her parents were busy, she was in charge, but Orana got scared, sometimes, when people shouted or magic flared, and then Cara was meant to leave her alone or make sure she was safe and comfortable.

She took the stairs down to the kitchen two at a time, where she found more broken glass and embers knocked from the fireplace scattering the stone floor.

"Orana!" she tried again, fingers beginning to flicker in the familiar pattern of a seeking spell. A soft, sobbing sound crept from under the table. Orana was down there, curled into a ball and shaking, shaking, shaking, like her father after a bad dream.

Cara tried to make her voice low and calm and commanding, like Mama's: "Orana, don't be scared. Are you hurt?"

She didn't know what to do if a grown-up was hurt, though she knew where the elfroot potions and the bandages were stored in case of emergencies. She'd figure it out. Daddy always explained what he was doing when he patched up her cuts and bruises, and she wasn't a baby to burst into tears at the sight of blood.

She felt a little like crying when Orana looked up at her, pale and glassy-eyed, but they couldn't both sit here and cry. Well, they could - they had three years ago, when the Qunari revolted, but they had kind Master Bodahn then to take care of them: he'd hurried them into the cellar and told them all stories to keep them quiet, and Cara had tried to make rabbits out of light for Sandal until Orana flinched away from them. She'd only been six, then, though. She was nine now, and practically a grownup.

"Miss- Mistress Cara!" she said, which wasn't right - Orana wasn't supposed to call anyone Master or Mistress any more, but sometimes she got scared and forgot. "I'm sorry, I'll clean up the mess-"

"We can clean it up later," she managed to say, though there was a wobble in her voice she didn't like. "Something is wrong. We should go somewhere safe."

That was the first rule when things got scary, Master Bodahn had told her - find a safe place, or safe people, and stay with them as long as you can. Safe people would be Mama and Daddy and Justice, or maybe her uncles and aunts, but none of them were here, so she and Orana would have to find a safe place, and be safe people for each other.

She took Orana's hand and slowly pulled her out from under the table. They were almost the same height now, but when she was stood up, Orana blinked and came back to herself, and squeezed Cara's hands.

"Very sensible, Carissima," she said, smiling, and Cara relaxed a little, just for a second. Then there was an urgent banging on the front door, and they both flinched.

"Cellar?" Cara suggested, and Orana nodded.

"Cellar indeed."

She leaned into the fireplace and grabbed something from the far side of the hearth, and chivvied Cara down the stairs as the sound of splintering wood shattered the air behind them.

Cara felt a chill go through her as she remembered her father's warnings: If you hear the Templars coming, you run, Cara-hase. You don't look back, and you don't stop. Who else would dare to knock down her mother's door, but the monsters that still haunted her father's dreams?

"Orana," she whispered, into the dark. "Did I ever teach you the Rabbit Game?"

The Rabbit Game was one of Daddy's inventions. They'd played it ever since she could remember, ever since she was small enough to toddle after him, clutching the hem of his robes. The rules were simple - you had to make it through the passage from the cellar to the clinic, as quick as you could, making no noise, leaving no footprints. When she'd been very small, he'd given her a handful of veilfire to light the way, but grownup girls and clever little rabbits had to play the game in the dark. Foxes and wolves could smell smoke or magic on the wind, and if they caught you, they would eat you all up.

When she was a baby, being eaten all up wasn't scary. It was being scooped up in her father's arms and tickled and kissed and fussed over until she squealed. But then she got older, and realised he wasn't trying to teach her to hide from foxes and wolves, and that there were worse things that could happen to a girl than to be eaten.

Still, as she crept along the narrow passage between cellars, Orana's hand gripped tight in hers, she pretended she was playing the Rabbit Game again, that the footsteps she could hear distantly were her father's, that the worst that would happen if they were caught was that she wouldn't be taken out to the market for sweets. Panicking wasn't how you won the Rabbit Game. If you froze, or you made too much noise, they'd catch you easy as anything.

Run, Cara-hase. She ran, as light on her feet as they'd practiced, making cushions of air beneath the soles of their shoes to catch them before they could clatter. She heard, distantly, a shout that sounded a little less muffled, and felt Orana squeeze her hand and try to muffle a sob. She tightened her grip, and kept running until she felt her outstretched hands catch on the false panel that led to the clinic. She closed her eyes, remembered her father's voice in her ear: Just above your head, there are three nails to press on. The second, then the third, then the first, got that, little rabbit?

She was taller now - they were on a level with her breastbone - and she pressed down on them until she heard the reassuring click of the door opening. She pulled Orana through and closed it softly, collapsing against it. The passage continued round a corner, and hopefully the- whoever was chasing them would follow it rather than them. She'd done it. She'd won the Rabbit Game, and they were in the clinic, and Daddy would be here and tell her everything was alright-

Orana was staring at her, and she realised she'd said her names three times, and she hadn't heard. Why hadn't she heard? She was meant to be listening, meant to be calm and grown up, but she felt suddenly small and shivery and scared.

"Cara," Orana said, crouching to take hold of her shoulders, as if she was a very little girl. "Do you know where your father is? He seems to have- stepped out, for a moment."

That didn't make sense. Mama had gone to the Gallows, she said, to make sure the mages were safe, but Daddy had said he'd be at the clinic. He was supposed to be at the clinic-

Cara's breath was quickening in her throat, and now she really wanted to cry, which was stupid, because nothing bad had actually happened, and at any minute her father would be back and would explain everything. Nothing was actually wrong. Nothing was actually wrong, because if something was actually wrong-

She could hear the sound of people rushing around outside, of crying and screams, of wood cracking, and she knew in her bones that something was Actually Wrong, which made no sense. If something were that badly wrong, Daddy would be at the clinic, making sure people had a safe place to go, that anyone who was hurt was taken care of. And yet, the clinic was empty, holding nothing but a silence more horrible than the noise outside when it should have held warmth, comfort, safety.

"I don't-" She swallowed, tried to make her voice less shaky, because she had to be brave, because Orana was probably more frightened, "I don't know where he is. I- he'll be back soon."

It didn't feel like he'd be back soon. The surgery was too tidy. Daddy's desk was usually piled high with papers she wasn't supposed to look at or (when she was too little to understand) draw on. Now it was swept clean, his healer's kit sat neatly on the chair, as if waiting for him to return with far more patience than Cara. It felt wrong in a way she would not have the words for for years. It felt like he was already gone, and fear sank into the hollow between her ribs and made her heart flutter like a caged bird.

"I- I'm sure he will," Orana echoed her, and squeezed her shoulder. Cara wished she hadn't. Orana was not a very good liar.

A fist slammed into the door to Darktown, and they both flinched at the sound. Orana shoved her down under the desk, so hard and so sudden she slammed her head against it and cried out.

"Ow, Orana-!"

The rapping came again, more urgent this time. Orana's hand clapped down over her mouth, her grip on her shoulder painfully tight.

"Please!" A rough voice called from outside, "For pity's sake, if we ever needed a healer, it's now!"

Cara was not a healer, was barely even a mage, but when the banging came again, she knew what her parents would have done. She wrenched herself from Orana's grip and ran to the door, yanking it open. Outside there was a small crowd of people, pressed tight against the clinic's wall to hide from the chaos outside.

She looked up at them, feeling suddenly very young and very out of place in her pretty embroidered dress with its fine ruffled petticoats. Even of the smallest of the children looked older and more tired than she'd ever felt. She swallowed, looked up at the nearest grown-up (a man, heavily scarred, bleeding from a deep cut on his scalp, and said: "He isn't here, but- I can help you, or try."

He stared down at her through his one remaining eye, and she felt a little sick. "You're just a kid," he said, with something like disgust, and she almost wanted to cry. Then she felt Orana's hand on her shoulder again, and realised that if she could be brave for Cara, when she was so much more scared of so many things, Cara would have to keep being brave for everyone else. She wondered if her mother had ever felt like this - too small and too frightened and having to do the brave thing anyway, because there was nobody else to do it. She hoped not. Being a hero shouldn't feel like this.

She swallowed down the sick she could taste at the back of her throat. "Maybe, but- I'm all there is right now."

He made a scoffing noise, moved to wheel away, but another man, shorter, face badly bruised, caught his shoulder and gave him a glare. "D'you know anything about healing?" he demanded, and she wanted to say No, she wanted to say Go away, she wanted to say I tried to be nice and you're being rude, because nobody had ever spoken harshly to her before, but that isn't what a hero would do. That isn't what her parents would do.

So she put her hands on her hips and said, in her mother's voice: "I know everything my father taught me, and Orana knows some too. And- and if I can't help you, you can wait here until he comes back."

He would come back. He always came back. It was the promise he made every time he had to leave unexpectedly, and couldn't tell her when he'd be home. He'd kiss her forehead and say: I'll be back soon, Cara-hase, and I'll bring your mama with me. He hadn't said it this morning, but then, they'd argued this morning. He'd been in one of his black moods where only Mama could reach him, and she'd pestered him for attention rather than leaving well alone. Maybe that was why she couldn't find him now.

She shook that thought off and stood aside, letting the people flood in. Some of them were limping, supported by friends or family, or favouring arms that were clearly broken. Cuts and scrapes she'd seen plenty of - she knew from memory how to clean a wound out with elfroot, and Orana, steeling herself, could close up the longer or deeper ones with neat, careful stitches. She'd never seen bruises so dark or so big, but she spread spindleweed balm across them nonetheless and said calming things like There, all better, and It'll be fine if you're careful, even if she wasn't sure it was true.

"The tunnels keep collapsing," the man with the bruised face told her while she smeared gooey spindleweed across it, as his husband swore loudly through Orana's stitching. "Whatever happened up in Hightown, it's shaken the foundations, and the Templars… they're looking for- someone."

He cut himself off as he seemed to focus on her face for the first time. "You said your daddy would be back soon?"

She nodded. "He always comes back."

He sighed, looked past and through her. "They always do, kid. Until they don't."

She shook her head, tried to remind herself that he didn't know her parents, that they always came back to her. That they were heroes, and that meant they always came home. She told herself that over and over again as the hours passed, as more people flooded through the door - some she could help, most she couldn't, even as she rationed and diluted the few elfroot potions kept aside for emergencies, and she didn't feel like a hero at all. She felt like she was a little girl again, and school had finished, and nobody had come to collect her - the cold, uncomfortable feeling of being forgotten, mingled with the fear of something Very Wrong having kept her parents away. At least now she was busy - now she was helping people, if only a little. Then she'd had to sit in the Chantry while the sisters did evening prayers, the stench of incense making her feel sick and sleepy and even more forgotten than she felt now.

Like the last time, when her mother finally came, she burst into angry, relieved tears like a baby, and flung herself into her arms. She'd been trying to be a hero, or at least a grown-up, for far too long, and suddenly she was hot and tired and hungry and scared but her mother was here and those were no longer her problem to fix.

"Where's the healer?" someone demanded over her head, and she relaxed, waiting for the reassuring answer.

Instead, her mother said: "Gone," and that was when she realised that this was nothing like the Qunari attack, that her life would never be the same again. That the world could be cut into two neat halves by a single syllable.

[privatebooth]

@perlen-gold I know you wanted breakfast in bed, but I have a serious issue with food in my bed :3 Unless someone is sick and can't get to the dining room.

Have Hawke fussing over Fenris in the kitchen! Offering him all the best food they have. This is still their first morning together after reconciling. So I expect them to be all over each other for a while...

Poor Bodahn is horrified and stressed out because he so wants to be useful, but Hawke just wouldn't let him! Orana is a bit uneasy too, but more amused and flabbergasted to see her "master" running around and trying so hard to please someone, let alone an elf like herself.

Fenris would be like Hawke, there really is no need

and Hawke be like Yes there is! I want to! Let me take care of you!

And it's very new and overwhelming for Fenris, because he never had anyone fuss over him, and quite frankly I think he's enjoying it very much. He'll get used to it...

What frustrates me is that we didn't see much of Thedas kitchenware. What do they have for breakfast? What do they use to brew and drink tea? (Had to borrow a tea pot from the Witcher world!) Don't think they even have coffee...

[orxna]

Freedom is--Different, the second time. Not entirely different, sometimes she wonders if she will always be that frightened girl with a dead Papa. Again and again. Hawke isn't here to tell her that she'll be alright. Fenris is not here to assure her that she will be safe--He has been sent for but the way he travels practically with the wind there is no guarantee of when he will come for her. She's seen Isabela at least, nearly broke down then. The elf hadn't quite cried but she couldn't stop apologizing and she couldn't even explain what for. She wants to go home--but Kirkwall has fallen and there's no safe way to bring her to Starkhaven where Aveline stands vigilant as ever. Besides, Ghilan'nain is furious with the loss of Sulhan'harel, even the brief meeting with Isabela on the shores of Rivain had been ambushed by Antaam. Clawed hands grabbing at her arms and Orana thinks of going back and panics-- It is the first time Orana has ever bitten someone. She hadn't truly stopped the warrior, but distracted him enough for Isabela to do so moments later. A dagger through his heart with a wet Shnk. She is shaking horribly when the pirate pulls Orana close to her chest, squeezes her tight. "I’ve got you now, kitten," Isabela hushes, a hand combing through soft blonde locks. It settles something, to have nails instead of needles pressing against her scalp. She breathes with Isabela's steady breaths until the world stops spinning, "We won't let them take you." Orana tries very hard to believe her. She is sent with Rook, the Evanuris cannot access the Lighthouse. Rook is kind, magnetic the same way Hawke had been and instantly she understands Varric's fondness. However, it is not home, she doesn't think such a dizzying place could ever feel like home. Even just walking through the Eluvian and seeing the strange empty chasms bracketing a walkway with no rails is overwhelming. The feeling that wells in her stomach is worse than seasickness, though she has only ever been on a boat once. They bring her to the infirmary first, to tend to the shackle of bruises around her arm. She freezes at the sight of Bianca, shattered on a nearby table. She doesn't realize she's fallen--fainted--until she is looking up and there are people crowding on all sides of her. It is terribly disorienting to be lifted and set gently upon a medic's cot. It is more disorienting to be overwhelmed with the familiar earthy sweet scent of old but well maintained leather. It lingers in her nose and if she closes her eyes she can almost pretend that the hands tending to her are callused like an archer's. Eo canavarum, why hadn't the Evanuris simply been lying to her? Lithe fingers grasp desperately at the sleeves when unfamiliar hands help her sit up. She shrugs the coat over her shoulders, someone is speaking but she can't quite hear them. Her mind has made itself quiet, protecting her. The elf curls in on herself, into the coat. Slips shaking hands into the arms and squeezes herself as tight as she can. If she closes her eyes hard enough, it's almost like a hug.

[vigilskeep]

Ha I also started going through your Keir tag after the ask about Cole (not implying the other asker today was necessarily prompted by the same thing, it was just funny right now to see the ask from someone else saying they'd been going through his tag). To continue the asks, do you have any headcanons for Keir and Fenris beyond them getting along? They strike me as similar in their sense of self-determination, which sounds weird because of Keir's whole thing but like, where his self happens to include the people close to him. idk vibes

yes they are both like that, exactly!! both very fixated on survival at all costs and maintaining wary distance from external threats or indeed anything they cannot trust. people who have learned to fiercely protect what’s theirs and extend little empathy or faith to anything outside

you can argue it’s a difference that keir includes those close to him in what he has to keep safe, but fenris also does that as soon as he has anyone to keep (see: romanced hawke). the parallels between keir and, say, young fenris giving up everything to fight for his mother and sister’s freedom always make me sick. fenris just happens to not have anyone when we first meet him :(

them being so alike is why i can never even imagine keir/fenris though 😭 for one thing neither of them would ever say anythinggg. they both require a talker imo. and someone less... straightforward and efficient. even as friends they just sit in companionable silence unless isabela is around (which she is more often than not, considering she’s keir’s best friend and fenbela have their thing going. when i’m playing as keir i’m often in what i affectionately call the double date party)

they’re good friends though. a lot of mutual respect, a lot of trust. not necessarily particularly vulnerable with each other except when the moment forces it, but not for lack of comfort with each other, just because they’re both bad at that. keir likes fighting alongside with fenris, likes a fellow warrior’s discipline and being able to rely on him to fill a role that carver once did. and fenris likes having a watchful shield, not always having to watch his own back. i rlly like fen having someone you can count on as completely as you can with keir

keir at least initially respectfully curbs his usual tactile affection w fenris bc fen likes his personal space but i think later on he might cautiously allow a little of it idk... almost out of curiosity when he sees keir do it so much with the others. cat slowly warming up to you type behaviour. tilts his head a certain way to permit cheek kiss without having to say anything abt it

keir does teach him to read! gets orana in on it too, why not, two birds with one stone. in the bad later years in kirkwall it’s a respite to sit down and focus on smth like that. reminds keir of good childhood days. everyone’s always surprised keir likes books and has good penmanship as if he isn’t the son of a circle mage and a noblewoman

[teine-mallaichte]

"i'm easily missed. people don't pay attention to me." For Fenris & Orana (I love Orana so much! I'm excited to see someone writing her)

~ @lordgoretash

My brain seems to be back on my 'make th eformer slaves interact' agenda tonight 😂 I also seem to have decided that all my Orana & Fenris fix are going to be set in Adrian Hawke's world stae during the 3 year gap in Adrian and Fenris's relationship. Not that that fact matters for this peice but, meh, that's my cannon now. Fenris and Adrian are on hold and Fenris and Orana end up befriending each other and accidentally giving each other therapy.

@dadrunkwriting

"Hawke is looking for you."

Orana flinched, pushing herself further into the alleyway as the voice broke through the silence.

She hadn’t heard him approach. She never did. But Fenris was there. Not close—he never got too close without reason—but his presence alone set her pulse racing, instinct warring with reason.

“I—” She bit her lip, ducking her head as though she could shrink from his notice. “I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t running,” he interrupted, tone matter-of-fact.

It wasn’t a question.

She risked a glance at him, finding no accusation in his expression. Just quiet observation.

Still, her muscles tensed “I—I just…. No one noticed I left. i'm easily missed. People don't pay attention to me.”

Fenris was silent at that. Then, after a pause, he took a step into the alley, just enough for the shadows to claim him.

“They did.”

She blinked.

He exhaled sharply, shifting awkwardly, “Hawke noticed. He is… concerned."

Orana hesitated, her fingers curling into the fabric of her top. Hawke noticed. He was concerned. It didn’t seem possible. It didn’t seem right. She had spent her life being unnoticed, unseen. That was the way of things. Slaves were not noticed. They worked from the shadows. To draw attention. To be seen. Invited punishment.

"I didn’t…" She faltered, unsure how to continue.

Fenris looked away. Shifting. Scanning. As though standing still for too long would leave him vulnerable. Orana forced her own hands to stop fiddling with her sleeve, pushed down to instinct to check the shadows behind her.

“Hawke is not a Magister," Fenris stated, "A slave is invisible, you are not a slave here.”

Orana swallowed hard. She wasn’t a slave. She knew that, rationally. Hawke had given her freedom, had told her so, had made it clear time and time again. And yet…

She still felt invisible.

“Hawke… noticed,” she repeated quietly, almost testing the words on her tongue.

“He did.” Fenris shifted slightly, his gaze flicking to hers, searching.

Orana still hesitated. The knowledge that someone had noticed her absence was unsettling in ways she couldn’t quite explain. The idea of being missed, of someone seeking her out rather than simply expecting her to be in place, was foreign. Even now, she found herself waiting for the catch—for the reprimand, the punishment, the demand for explanation that would remind her of her place.

But it didn’t come.

"Why?" she asked at last, "Why would he notice?"

Fenris exhaled sharply, as if the question frustrated him, though not in a way that suggested he was angry at her. If anything, he looked uncertain, as though struggling to put something into words.

"Because… he is Hawke," he said finally, and there was something almost pained in the way he said it, "He cares, more than he should. It… it is best not to dwell on his reasons," he looked away, "I am not certain he understands them himself."

He turned slightly, angling his body toward the alley’s entrance. “You do not have to go back yet,” he added.

She swallowed, glancing toward the alley entrance, then back at Fenris.

“You’re not… going to force me?” she asked hesitantly.

Fenris’s eyes locked to hers, his expression darkening, something cold flashing behind his eyes before he schooled his face into something more neutral.

“No,” he said simply. “But I will wait.”

She hesitated, then, slowly, she took a step forward.

He didn’t move. Didn’t react beyond the way his gaze flickered toward her, carefully controlled.

She took another step.

And then another.

And as she passed him, exiting the alleyway, he fell into step beside her.

Not leading.

Not following.

Just walking with her.

[hoboblaidd]

NAME: Solas

NICKNAME(S)/ALIASES: So many, and a bunch of fake names he uses when he’s creeping around, but the highlights are - The Dread Wolf, Fen'harel, Spirit-Speaker, the Great Betrayer, the Roamer of the Beyond. Chuckles.

DATE OF BIRTH: Time did not exist and he came to this world mostly unwillingly.

GENDER: Cisgender male (insofar as gender works for someone who was once an amorphous construct of the Fade).

PLACE OF BIRTH: On a mountaintop/Titan, overlooking his first sunrise on a lush valley. He remembers that it was beautiful, and it was cold.

CURRENTLY LIVING: He's in the Fade prison, and his lifeforce is bound to the Veil. Prior to that, he was in the Lighthouse.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES: Common (fluent); Ancient Elvhen (fluent in all dialects); Modern Elvhen (fluent, if annoyed that it's lost some of its luster); Tevene (almost fluent); Orlesian, Antivan, Rivaini (enough to get by); Qunlat (proficient).

EDUCATION: School of hard knocks. He learned everything by doing, and it started with a war.

HAIR COLOR: Auburn, but he/Felassan shaved it in grief and this is how he chooses to look now.

EYE COLOR: Violet.

HEIGHT: 6' - 6'1. Getting taller with every game file I see lol.

Family Information

BIRTH SIBLINGS: All of the Firstborn elves are kin. They were made from the same earth and lyrium, and they came into this world together. But it's kin, not siblings.

PARENTS: Mythal called him to this world. There's a hint of the All-Mother to their relationship, but they were more companions than parent-child. If Elgar’nan ever called Solas ‘da’len’, he’d explode.

CHILDREN: Nothing formal, but he's somehow managed to informally adopt a bunch of people he's met. Nanna, Cole, Orana - the list is always growing despite his best efforts. He should not be allowed near any actual children because he's a terrible influence. He’s got beef with Kieran.

PETS: He has beef with so many animals due to their association with his enemies, and their predilection to hate him (dogs - Elgar'nan; owls - Andruil and Falon'din; ravens - Dirthamen; bears - Dirthamen). He's fond of halla, but they're wary of him.

Relationship Information

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual, especially in Elvhenan. He really doesn’t get modern Thedas restrictive ideas about sexuality.

STATUS: Timeline and verse dependent. Where possible, he's with a romanced Lavellan like @keepslore . Ghilan'nain ( @fellenaste ) is a very distant ex.

tagged by: @extravagantliar , who is trying to destroy me.

tagging: @avrorean , @hemerasiae (dealer's choice but also give me Teia), @abyssflown (dealer's choice but davrinn), @turlums , @weptduty (and any of your other muses), @ingllvar , @sulahndinan

[wondyvillains]

Since I've been seeing chatter on Wonder Woman's depiction in the DCAU a lot lately, here's my Top 9 WW Villains in the Justice League and Justice League Unlimited animated series!

#9 - Doctor Cyber She's sadly nothing more than a glorified cameo, and the most we see of her is actually a training hologram. She looks great, though, and I applaud the show for using an underutilized but very cool WW villain in any capacity.

#8 - Medusa Like Cyber, Medusa is pretty much a cameo. But unlike Medusa, she gets some spotlight in a decently memorable scene. I do love the idea of her hanging out with Circe in the Underworld, though.

#7 - Angle Man Another cameo villain, but even though he's almost exclusively seen in group shots, Angle Man at least had a voice line AND got an action figure!

#6 - Hades The God of the Underworld is given three episodes as the big bad, but it just doesn't make sense. Hades is almost never a villain in the comics, and now we have this show to blame for everyone thinking he's one of the top tier WW villains. He should have been Ares.

#5 - Cheetah Ugh, where to even begin. This portrayal of Cheetah has largely contributed to the overall idea that Cheetah isn't worthy of being WW's archenemy. Because the show does nothing with her. And instead of using her cool comic backstory, they steal Batman villain Orca's.

#4 - Ares He's only given one episode and it's almost entirely about Hawk and Dove, so... it's not great. But I'm a sucker for handsome blonde Ares, so I'm glad they kept that aspect. He definitely should have been given Hades's role.

#3 - Circe She's fabulous in the show, but the main problem is... Diana barely interacts with her at all! And instead of seeing a great WW vs. Circe episode, we get Batman saving the day YET AGAIN. Circe and her fans deserve better.

#2 - Aresia An "evil Wonder Woman" is a cool idea that HAS been done in the comics, but the show decides to create the new character Aresia. While I wish they had adapted a different character with similar motives (Dalma, Orana, Clea), Aresia is actually pretty fascinating.

#1 - Giganta The writers seemed to love Giganta even if they didn't love having her interact with Diana. She's fun and flirty unlike her main comic version, but she still manages to have some really attention-grabbing action sequences. She also looks great!

[historitor-bookshelf]

Warhammer Kinktober 2024: Day 26

Another OC appearance from a fic in progress, another one I want to expend upon eventually

Day 26: Geneseed | Grey Knights | Size Kink Other tags: FemOC/Grey Knight OC, Vaginal Sex, Doggy Style, Showers again

They were giants. Inquisitor Orana starred up at them. It was not her first time seeing Astartes and intellectually, she knew they were large. But seeing them up front was always a treat.

Especially when they were nude.

The communal shower on the Defiance of Fate was cold, yes, but the Astartes certainly didn’t mind. The Grey Knights, naked, in all their Emperor-created glory - as she thought - enjoyed the at best tepid stream of water as if it was hot water in a tube. Orana, however had trouble hiding her shivers and her curses as she stepped under the water. She scrubbed at her skin, hurriedly, keen on getting back into her clothes. Elisha stopped her. He was the only one left in the showers from the Grey Knights, a dark-skinned, large man, even for a Marine. She looked up to him, trying not to stare at his naked form to much. He leaned closer. “You are aroused.” Oriana starred at him. “Don’t deny it.” “I’ll not.” She straightened up. “But I would want to know why this interests you.” “Because I want you.” He slipped his fingers through her hair. “Go to my cabin.” “No, you will come to my cabin.” She raised her head. “You do not order me around, Astartes.” He laughed low. “As you insist, Inquisitor.” And he came to her cabin this night cycle. Preparing her with his fingers, with her dildos before he could even enter her. She still moaned and whined into her pillow, as he finally pushed into her from behind, clutching at her hips.

[writingthedas]

Set in act 3 before they get back together. Fenris stops by Hawke's manour to pick them up for a game of Wicked Grace down at the Hanged Man. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned.

tags: injury, major injury, assassination attempt, blood, angst, fluff near the end.

Hawke's gender and class are left unspecified

word count: 1223

The sun was just starting to set, the shadows in Hightown growing long as the sun lowered in the sky. Fenris meandered his way through the darkening streets towards Hawke's manour, he was neither armed nor armoured, but his presence alone kept anyone from bothering him.

To say he wasn't looking forward to the walk to Lowtown was an understatement. For the last 3 years, things between him and Hawke had been tense. Since the night he left them. But he lived the closest and it was smarter to travel in groups the later it got in the day.

He could already hear their mabari barking by the time he approached the front door, knocking a couple times before waiting for it to open. It opened quickly, and Orana stood in front of him looking panicked and dishevelled.

"Orana? What's wrong?" Fenris asked, voice softer than usual. He was always a little softer around her.

"It's Messere Hawke, something's wrong..." She replied, voice shaky.

Fenris moved past her quickly, moving through the foyer and into the main room. Bodhan was at Hawke's bedroom door, clearly trying to pick the lock while their dog stood beside him, barking and trying to dig underneath it.

"Bodhan, what's going on?" Fenris asked as he jogged up the steps.

"I-I don't know. The dog started barking a few minutes ago and Messere Hawke won't open the door, it's locked." he replied, looking up at Fenris from his crouched position.

Fenris got close to the door, pressing an ear against it when the smell hit him. Blood.

"Stand back" he warned, only giving Bodhan a couple moments before he reeled back and kicked the door open, the bolt of the lock breaking through the doorframe.

Once the door was open, the scent hit him like a wave, and there, on the ground, laying face down in a pool of it was Hawke. Fenris quickly moved to their side, rolling them onto their back to check their injuries. He could see the multiple stab wounds in their stomach, and he cursed to himself, placing a hand over them.

"Bodhan, go through the cellar and get Anders, quickly." He ordered the dwarf, voice hard and leaving no room for discussion. As the dwarf ran off towards the cellar, he turned his attention to Orana.

"Get something that we can press against their wounds. A towel, blanket, anything." He continued, looking back down at Hawke to see that they were miraculously still conscious.

His free hand moved to their face, keeping it up and facing his own.

"Hawke, I need you to stay awake, focus on me." He ordered them, eyes locking with their glassy ones. He watched as their eyelids drooped down, closing for a moment before they snapped back open, Hawke obviously trying their best to keep them open.

Orana comes rushing out of the kitchen with a towel, and she kneels beside Fenris and Hakwe.

"Place it here, against their wounds. Apply firm, even pressure." He instructs, holding Hawke still as they flinch away from the sudden pain, letting out a pathetic groan.

"Focus on me Hawke, stay awake." Fenris curses the slight shake in his voice, but keeps his grip on Hawke firm.

It feels like an eternity before Bodhan returns with Anders, who immediately kneels on the other side of Hawke, rolling up his sleeves as Orana moves away, and Fenris removes Hawke's house robe, revealing the full extent of their injuries to the healer.

"Listen, it's been a long day, I don't have much mana left. I can stop the bleeding but I will have to stitch them up by hand." he warns before he gets to work with his magic, the blue glow of the healing magic weaker than usual.

True to his word, he stops the bleeding before he pulls out a suturing kit, wiping down the area surrounding the wounds with a cloth soaked in something that smells strongly of elfroot before getting to work closing them.

"Alright, they're closed. Fenris sit Hawke up so I can bandage them." He says, packing the suturing supplies away before pulling out a roll of gauze. Fenris doesn't say anything, but complies holding Hawke in a sitting position as Anders winds the gauze around their stomach and torso.

Once he's satisfied with the wrapping job, he tucks the end of the gauze into itself, sitting back on his feet and taking a deep breath.

"They'll need to be bed bound for a few days, and you'll have to get me if they start bleeding again" Anders says to Bodhan after a few quiet moments, standing up and unrolling his sleeves.

"Anders, I... Thank you." Fenris blurts out as he approaches the stairs. Anders looks at him over his shoulder, sighing.

"I didn't do this for you." is all he replies with before going down the stairs and making his way back to the cellar.

After a few moments, Fenris carefully picks Hawke up, one arm supporting their back, the other under their knees, and lays them on their bed, taking their robe the rest of the way off he pulls the covers over them. The dog jumps up on the bed, laying beside his master with a whine.

Fenris starts to do a sweep of the room, checking and double checking anywhere any errant assassins could be hiding. He closes the open window, locking it and making sure the other one is locked before doing a third check of the room.

Hawke watches from their bed, having passed out not long after Anders arrived, and having slowly regained consciousness after being laid in bed.

"Fenris..." they croak out, voice weak. He jumps slightly at their sudden noise, turning to them with a slightly panicked look.

They cant help the smile that creeps onto their face, watching as he sighs before grabbing their desk chair and placing it beside the bed, sitting down, arms crossed.

"Get some rest, Hawke. I'll keep watch." he says, not looking at them as his eyes continue to scan every inch of the room.

Hawke reaches out with their nearest hand, holding it out to him palm up. He looks at it for a moment, before looking at their face, then back to their hand, sighs, then places his own in theirs.

They smile again, before closing their eyes and letting themself quickly drift off back to sleep.

Orana comes in after a few minutes, quiet as a mouse as she begins to mop up the pool of blood. She jumps when Fenris shifts, causing the chair to creak, looking over at him. Her eyes jump from his face to where his and Hawke's hands are connected, lingering there until Fenris clears his throat, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"I'm sorry." she whispers, before quickly finishing mopping up the majority of the blood and leaving, closing the door behind her.

Fenris tries to take his hand away, but Hawke simply grips onto his hand tighter. He sighs, watching their face as they rest. The last time he was here, he broke their heart. He regrets it, but he wasn't in any state to commit to them the way they deserved.

Maybe they still had feelings for him, maybe he still had a chance.

But that was wishful thinking.

Right?

[psalacanthea]

WiP Wednesday

Since I'm working on something I can't share, I just grabbed a random bit from one of my WiPs! From the next chapter of the Hawke and Varric post-canon fic :)

Varric sighed, briefly reaching up his hand to pat her arm before he withdrew.  

Oh, not again.

“All right, what is it this time?”

“Excuse me?”

Naomi squinted an eye, leaning forward in her chair so she could peer at him suspiciously. “What are you brooding about now?  The only way this ridiculous situation works if we’re together, and you know that!  You need to know where I am, and I need to know where you are, so if we’re together everything is solved!”

Still avoiding her stare, Varric sighed and reached for his mug of tea. “I hate that you make honesty the path of least resistance sometimes.  It’s rude.”

Hawke grinned at the fondly annoyed note in his voice.

“I’m doing a lot of big secret shit at the moment, and I didn’t want to bother you with it,” Varric said with an irritated sigh, dropping his mug and staring into it contemplatively. He shook his head, eyes meeting hers in a reluctant sidelong stare.  “I’m meeting up with an old friend from the Inquisition today, late.  It’s…you remember when you asked me about Solas?  The guy who helped you in the fade? Not the spirit, the other one who helped you escape.”

“Mhmm,” she said, glancing down at her breakfast.  The eggs were hard scrambled, which they’d discovered was the only texture she could handle from eggs any more.  Maybe one day it would come back.  She missed oozy eggs with her smoked herring.

Varric's voice was dripping with exhausted, sharp exasperation. “So it turns out he’s an Elven god!  And ah, he’s probably still trying to end the world.  Or at least end our world, which is something I’d like to prevent.  Naomi, are you listening?”

“You remembered my pickled onions.  Thank you,” she said with a smile, nose crinkling.  

“I told Orana, don’t give me too much credit.  Were you listening to me?”

There he went again, brushing off her thanks.  What a bad habit.  Why did he think she’d be shocked by this, though? Did he forget that they'd killed a demon Merrill had said was one of their gods, too?

“Yeah, okay, evil Elven god.  Is that even a surprise with all the shit we’ve been through?  Which one is he?  I only know what Merrill’s told me.”

“Ah, the Dread Wolf.  Fen’harel.”

“The one–”

“Merrill always swears about, yeah.  But the thing is, I don’t so much want to kill him as I do stop him.  I’d like the chance to talk him down before everything goes to shit, at least.  I’d like a chance to stop something bad from happening for once.”

Surprised, she leaned back a little from him. Despite his warning, she still felt a bit of prickly anger thinking about all the shit he'd been through with those fanatics.  “I didn’t think you were close with any of the people from that Chantry debacle.  You and Dorian didn’t seem to like each other very much.”

He laughed sarcastically. “Dorian and I were fighting because of you.  He was going nuts over the idea of studying you, figuring out what being in the Fade had done to you.  And I wasn’t…feeling reasonable.  All I wanted was to get you home.  Dorian and I are fine.  Fights happen.”

“I want to be there.  Will you let me in?”

“Are you going to give up on your grudge with the Inquisition?”

Well, that was a big ask!  “No, but I’ll hold my fucking tongue at least, Varric.  Maker’s balls, I know how to keep my cards close to my chest.  I understand wanting to save a friend!  Don’t I?”

“Usually if someone tells someone else they’re trying to convince a god not to destroy the world, there’s a bit more skepticism.”

“At this point?” she asked him dubiously, picking up a thick slice of bread. It was a little bit bizarre he thought she'd be freaked out by this. She'd been trapped in the fade!

A hand lifted in defeat, Varric's voice lowering to a mutter. “I get what you’re saying.  I just keep hoping that one of these days I’ll see any self-preservation from you at all.”

“Not when it comes to you,” she said with a winning smile.

“Fine, you can come.  Just don’t threaten anyone.”

“Some people need to be threatened."

[lottiesnotebook]

❝ Quick! Act natural! ❞ For kid Cara and Justice (I so want to see his dynamic with a kid)

~ @lordgoretash

Omg thank you for asking about my Horrible Nepo Baby and one of her dads! I love their dynamic so much, and I do think this ficlet tells you everything you need to know about Cara as an adult...

@lordgoretash | @dadrunkwriting

Justice & Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir, Justice/Rhiannon Hawke/Anders (mentioned), parenting, fluff, general mischief

wrapped around her little finger

Justice has been informed, repeatedly, since the birth of Cara Hawke-Laidir, that mostly human infants and children need their sleep, hence the unjust imposition of Bedtime despite her persuasive arguments that to be tucked into her own bed when other members of the household get to stay awake and continue their days is Deeply Unfair. Usually, Rhiannon handles both Cara and himself whenever she manages to talk him round - Cara because she is the only one with any immunity to her wide, amber eyes, and Justice because, shamefully, she reminds him that there are any number of enjoyable activities it is difficult to partake in with Cara around to provide a delightful distraction. The minutes they can seize now to work on their manifesto are few and far between, but it is deeply unjust to refuse a child her parent's attention when it is the only thing she truly craves, despite the comfort in which she lives.

Tonight, however, Anders is exhausted, slumbering somewhere at the back of their mind, and Rhiannon is out dealing with some issue with the Templars she will not discuss with them that leaves her tight-lipped and drawn. This means that, for once, Justice is alone when the pale shape of Cara in her nightgown peeks around the corner of the doorframe, and, seeing him, beams, and scrambles up the bed and into his arms.

"Justice!" she sighs, content, resting her head against his chest. This close to her, he can feel her heartbeat through the thin cotton of their nightshirts, and, distantly, the song of the Fade, of his first home, that sings as soft and sweet in his daughter's veins as it does in his own. That alone, he thinks, was worth the horrors it took to get here.

She snuggles into his arms, places a smacking kiss on his cheek, and then says, with five-year-old certainty. "I'm hungry."

He does not hear a note of deception in her voice, though he also knows she ate well at dinner, but she is growing faster than he can believe, despite her mother's claims that she will say anything to stay up a little later.

Still, for her sake, he makes a half-hearted attempt to probe further: "You are certain you are hungry, my purpose, rather than lonely or bored?"

She shakes her head emphatically. "No. Definitely hungry." She looks up at him with Anders' wide amber eyes, eyes he has not truly seen in years, fringed with her mother's own dark lashes, and it would be the heart of injustice to deny her when she adds, pathetically: "Orana's asleep. It wouldn't be fair to wake her, when she works so hard, but you're already awake, and I'm allowed in the kitchen with a grown-up."

This is true - it is one of the rules put in place for her safety, and thus closely attended to by them all.

"It would be unfair to send you back to bed, if you are hungry," he agrees, and, despite Anders' sleep-heavy limbs, manages to manoeuvre them out of bed, settling Cara on his hip with her head against his shoulder. He could never have imagined, before he crossed the Veil, the weight of a child in his arms, the flare of warmth and joy and purpose it would send through him. This is why he exists, he thinks, when he looks at Cara, to create a world worthy of her, a world where she will never fear being locked away for her magic or her nature.

The kitchen is lit only by the embers of the smothered hearthfire, but there is a loaf of bread on the side, and a tray of apple tarts that Cara looks at with such longing that it would be monstrous to deny her. He examines the size of the tarts, and his daughter, and sets three onto a plate, which she greedily devours, though she does at least attempt to feed him the last half.

"Please, Justice?" she wheedles. "Sharing is caring."

He does not require food, and Anders will not thank him for crumbs in his nightshirt, but who could possibly say no when given an opportunity to teach such a valuable lesson to one so precious?

It is because of this that Rhiannon Hawke catches them both out of bed well after Cara's bedtime, both covered in evidence of their crime, with Justice covered in almost as many crumbs as Cara and still eating his half of the last tart.

It is, naturally, Cara who saves them both. She throws up her hands in a perfect imitation of her Aunt Isabela: "Quick! Act natural!"

They might have still been in for a scolding, if Rhiannon could talk through the laughter that bends her double.

[privatebooth]

Yep, still coping with emotion overload.

So, like I said, this love scene was not originally to my taste, and I spent a lot of time and brain labor to make it work for me.

But since sex is essential to a love story, I accept it on my own terms.

So Fenris left the first time, but came back once he realised that he desired Hawke. Yeah, cool. They make out passionately in the hall...

I really would like to see how they make it to the bedroom. Did Bodahn, Leandra, Orana go to bed early? Did Fenris have to greet them? Did anyone say anything as they went upstairs?

Yeah, I just like to think that everyone else was asleep already and the living room was empty. Nevermind that.

This moment here is simply Hawke suggesting they take their make-out session somewhere more private. He probably made some joke about it... maybe about rearranging the furniture in the hall... Idk Hawke is the smart guy who cracks jokes, not me. Either way, whatever he said, it made Fenris chuckle, and then they moved upstairs.

Because I would prefer to have a little laugh before having my heart broken.