#c: Fenris

[fereldanwench]

ACT I | bait & switch

My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself. They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely.

[grimsips]

You ever just accidentally think about Fenris?

Sigh.

[soulcluster]

is abit drunk, taps Fenris's upper arm as she tilted her head. ' my...those are real muscles...nice.' / also from Isa skdjfhs

"Before I was lanky," Fenris commented, recalling one of their previous conversations. "Or have you changed your mind upon closer inspection?" Despite his deadpan tone, he looked amused at her antics.

[soulcluster-moved]

@divergentpaths / marian hawke

It wasn't uncommon for he and Hawke to make the last leg of their journey together. The silence of Hightown at night could be deafening after the raucous tavern, but Hawke rarely failed to liven the situation.

"How much coin does that make it, Hawke? At this rate, Isabela will own the fortune you worked so hard for."

[impcrriumm]

“You poor sweet innocent thing.”

"How kind of you to notice."

He smelled sarcasm. He too spoke this language. If Fenris meant to talk down to him he would have to do better than that.

He. had to admit elves from the south (or at least had spent a good amount of time there) were far less docile than he'd seen in elven people. It was--fascinating. He wasn't sure what the correct word to describe it would be. Angrier? Bolder? He supposed all that time stacked on top of each other in those alienages would make anyone cranky. Not that Tevinter was perfect, but at least their servants didn't live like that.

"Maybe I should give everyone a show and parade about the courtyard in pointy robes and devour some poor lad and absorb his youth. Do you think it would even cause a stir?"

[triaelf9]

DRAGON AGE NEWS VA NAMES DROPPED, FRIENDS IN THE LIST, I AM SO EXCITEDDDD AHHHHHHH

THAT'S MY ROOK VOICE!! AND I CAN'T WAIT TO ADVENTURE WITH FANTASY UNCLE VINNIE AND SKELLY MERCER FRIEND!! AND TAASH?? AHHHH AHHHH!!!!!!!

I have never been more excited for a game holy shiiiiiiit

[strawberrybouvine]

I will marry both of them, that is a threat 🫵🏼💍

[fereldanwench]

ACT I | bait & switch

I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth. I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised. Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it.

[ustalav]

the excuse me, he asked for no pickles meme except its carver fronting up to fenris after his recruitment quest when he mentions he knows hawke is a mage

[soulcluster]

There was that rare feeling she often provoked. Inclusion, companionship; is this what it felt like to have someone you thought you could trust?

"I won't say no to your company." Even if he had yet to figure out why she sought his.

The last time they spoke, his past had been weighing heavily on him. It had a way of doing that now that he had the opportunity to stay in one place and think of something other than survival. It frustrated him that there was so much he could not remember. In that way, he envied Hawke and her siblings for that.

To think that he had anything he could offer her aside from his blade, well, it was hard to fathom. Yet she had paid him flattery more than once and she was now at his door step with wine and a smile. Fenris could take a hint.

"I suspect that you did not offer to buy your brothers wine or there would be none left." A subtle and knowing smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth and he gestured for her to come inside. "You're always welcome here, Hawke."

By the time the manor door finally opened, Lea was further questioning if this was even a good idea. Her anxiety nearly convinced her to turn and run; act as if she had never been to visit him that day, and just go home to enjoy her wine and dinner by herself.

Except, home was the one place she always wanted to be the least, especially without her siblings. And she hated being alone.

But then Fenris greeted her, and she could not deny the wave of relief she felt at that. There was an air of suspicion about him, though, as he glanced behind her. She should have expected that, of course, and did not blame him for it in the slightest. He had no way of knowing that she was coming, why she was there, or if she had brought anyone. Considering he was technically squatting in an abandoned mansion originally owned by the very Magister he had escaped from and now wanted to kill, it was to be expected.

Yet the relief that he had actually answered her knocking at all brought a smile to her face. Lea held the basket in her hand up as if that were answer enough but then realized she should probably at least explain herself.

"Just thought I'd pop in with some dinner! If you're not busy, of course. My brothers decided to abandon me for cheap drinks at the Hanged Man, and I thought perhaps, maybe, you could use some company too... I also brought wine, if that helps at all."

She swallowed, realizing she was rambling. Why was she talking so much anyway?! Maker, she needed a drink of that wine...

[soulcluster]

@musezieren / fang

It was no secret that the streets of Darktown are unsafe. Not that Hightown is much different, but it hid it better, under a veneer of gaudy baubles and pretty fabrics, nobles who think that the world's problems can't touch them. Better for their bubble that they don't know gangs roam their fancy streets at night or that an escaped Tevinter slave squats in a manor owned by a magister.

It's not a reality Fenris can avoid. Danarius enjoys sending his pets to die at his hand and he won't lie that he takes some small pleasure in killing them, imagining each as their master as he rips his blade through them. But a pack of dogs can be dangerous and Fenris didn't always make it out completely unscathed.

At times he would be fine tending to his injuries on his own. He was loathed to set foot in Anders's clinic for several reasons, not least of which were how he and the mage didn't get along, but when push came to shove neither actually forsook the other.

Which was how he found himself outside his clinic doors, arm held tightly to his chest and wrapped in a rag to stem the bleeding. But when he stepped through, it was to find not Anders but a man with long dark hair and a bird perched nearby.

Fenris entered all the same, thinking the other nothing more than another refugee seeking Anders's service. "Is he away?" He leaned against one of the tables with a low groan.

[soulcluster-moved]

@divergentpaths / marian hawke 12 (the hug that comes after a rough day) + fenris/marian!

Kirkwall's tension had become palpable now that the templars and mages were practically at each other's throats. Things had always been bad between the two, but it had grown exponentially worse over the years, and at the very center of it was Hawke.

Fenris cared little for Meredith, and less for mages, but he did care for Marian. He would not see her torn apart by their plight.

He'd thought to try to reason with her after the latest debacle of blood magic tearing Kirkwall apart. It had never worked before, but he hated to watch her run herself ragged for these mages, and yet the moment he saw her all he could see was how tired she was. How worn out and haggard the day's events had left her.

The words died before they were born and instead he pulled her in for a hug, his touch firm as if to shield her from all the bullshit that corrupted Kirkwall.

"You look like shit." No one ever said he was great at comforting others though.

[shivunin]

Stack the Deck

(Maria Hawke/Fenris | 1,310 words | Fluff | no warnings)

Fenris could have caught Hawke before she reached the stairs if he’d really been trying, but that probably wasn’t the point. 

Hawke had left the Hanged Man when he’d excused himself for a few moments, and he’d been chasing after her since he’d returned to the table to find her gone. He knew quite well what she was doing, because she’d spent the whole evening “accidentally” running her fingers over the inside of his wrist, whispering so close to his ear that her lips often skimmed the sensitive skin, and tilting her head back in the way that occasionally exposed the small red marks at the joint of her neck. 

She’d also been cheating at cards to no avail, but that was nothing new. Fenris hardly noticed it anymore, since Hawke slipped the extra cards into his belt more often than not these days. As he jogged up the stairs to Hightown, he retrieved three from his waistband alone. He would almost certainly find more tucked away on his person when he finally reached her manor and disrobed. 

Perhaps this sort of thing was odd to do with one’s lover, but Fenris didn’t especially care. He could hear her laughing from here, after all, and the sound of it lightened his steps. As he rounded the corner at last, he spotted Hawke at her manor door, stepping into the firelit foyer.

“Hawke,” he called, speeding up. 

She held the door open for him, beaming across the courtyard as if she hadn’t seen him in days. 

“Oh, dear,” she said, with not an ounce of concern in her voice. “You’ve caught me.”

“You didn’t hide yourself very well, if that’s what you were trying to do,” Fenris told her as he stepped through the door. She swung it shut behind her with a soft click and he caught her waist in his hands, pressing her back against the wood. 

“Heavens,” Hawke said, still smiling, “how forward, messere.”

“I seem to recall having you twice before breakfast,” he murmured, kissing her cheek as he spoke. “How could this possibly be forward, Hawke?”

She seemed disinclined to explain herself, and laughed breathlessly when his lips trailed over the curve of her ear. Fenris huffed and directed his next words there in a murmur.

“Was there a reason for this little game, or did you tease me all night so I would chase you home?”

“Hm?” she said, angling her head away. 

Fenris obliged the silent request and nipped at the soft skin of her neck. It felt just as good as it had this morning. 

“I’m winning a bet,” she said after a moment. 

Fenris leaned back to look at her, brows raised.

“Oh! No, not that,” she said, and produced a playing card from her sleeve with the casual flick of her fingers. 

If he hadn’t known better, Fenris might have thought it was magic, but no—these were only the skills she’d learned as a pickpocket when her family had first come to Lowtown. She’d solemnly sworn never to pretend to pull a coin from his ear again, but that hadn’t kept her from producing various other objects from elsewhere on his person or her own. 

“The Angel of Death?” he asked, reading the card, “Were you losing all night on purpose?”

“Yes and no,” she laughed, producing another card, then another, and another, from her sleeves, then her decolletage, then her belt, and so on. When she finally stopped, Fenris was staring at more than half a deck stacked neatly in her left hand. 

“And the bet?” he said after a moment. She smiled again, eyes lit from within, and produced a card from behind his back. 

“That I wouldn’t make it out of the Hanged Man before Varric realized I’d taken most of his Wicked Grace deck,” she said, and plucked yet another card from the front of his belt. “Angel of Temerity. I was proud of that one.”

“Of course you were,” Fenris said, resting a hand against the door beside her head. “What have you won?”

“Two sov off of Isabela,” she said, tipping her head up so she could meet his eyes. “Would’ve been three, but I couldn’t quite get the last of the Angels. I think she had it in her bosom all along, the blighted pirate.”

Ah. 

Slowly, Fenris reached into his pocket and pulled two cards from it. One was the Knight of Dawn, but the other…

Hawke gasped. 

“No!” she said, reaching up to touch the second card. “Fortitude! But how?”

“I take my cards with me when I leave the table,” Fenris told her, extending the cards. “Or someone would steal them.”

Hawke gasped and would have pressed a hand to her chest, but he’d caught her fingers when she’d reached for his cards. 

“I would never,” she said, the dimples on either side of her mouth deepening despite the solemnity of her words. 

“Never,” Fenris said flatly, not letting go of the pair of cards, “and yet you are doing so now.”

“You offered!” Hawke protested. “Fine, then. What do you want for them?” 

Fenris considered her for a moment. The long walk to Hightown had brought a flush to her cheeks. Her hair, formerly wound into her customary braid, had already begun to come loose. Ringlets sprung from its twined length and brushed against her neck. Beneath dark brows, her eyes laughed at him. 

“What are you offering?” he countered, leaning closer. 

“Nothing you couldn’t have for the asking,” she laughed. “A kiss for the two of them.”

“No.”

“You don’t even want them!” Hawke protested. 

The skin at the corners of her eyes wrinkled when she smiled; Fenris marked it whenever it happened. 

Especially when he was the one who’d made her smile. 

“But you do,” he said, keeping his grip on the cards she was trying to tug away. “Two apiece and I will let go.”

“One apiece,” she countered, “and that’s my final offer. Surely you wouldn’t haggle with your dearest beloved over so—”

Fenris cut off the rest of her sentence with a kiss, and caught the edge of her smile on his lower lip for his haste. He did not mind it, of course. Hawke was smiling half the time when they kissed regardless, and feeling the shift in her when she turned her full attention to him was a pleasure in and of itself. 

“One,” she murmured, tilting her head away. She returned to him before he could think of something to say in return. This time, she let go of the cards and traced the line of his jaw as she kissed him, fingertips running along bone until they reached his chin. 

“Two,” he began when she pulled away, but she was kissing him again before the rest of the syllable tripped from his tongue. 

This kiss lasted the longest of all, until Fenris was leaning harder against the hand he’d braced against the wall, until he’d half-forgotten what they were still doing in her foyer at all. When she tipped her head away at last, he blinked at her for a moment, surprised at the sudden absence of her. 

“That has to count for at least four,” she said, and Fenris felt something brush against his ear. 

“Thank you, my dear,” she added. Fenris turned his head. 

The cards. Of course she was holding the cards. 

“Why argue,” he asked, taking a step back, “if you intended to take them in the first place?”

“It was the principle of the thing,” Hawke said, shrugging. 

Fenris scoffed and shook his head, but she only smiled up at him and pushed off the door. 

“Come on, then,” she said, hooking her fingers into his belt and tugging lightly. “Let me give you the rest.”

And Fenris, as they’d both known he would, followed gladly.

[fatewoven]

cont. // @magecrashout

Avid, anticipating denial for a heartbeat, the answer is nothing but heady. No greater satisfaction exists than Marian's concession, the closeness, acceptance, and Fenris cants his head to nip at her lower lip, grip sure to bruise — but then again, does it matter? The topography of her body proves already marred by uneven terrain; the deliberate lines juxtaposed against gnarled battle wounds, the texture of each one memorized from that single night they shared years and years ago. "Hawke," he warns, cuspids glistening as he fights to keep a grimace in place. A clawed gauntlet pricks down her side, thumb ghosting over the heart-rushed solar plexus where a great-sword once pierced her straight through. Gaze momentarily doleful, he hides evidence of the expression by kissing her again, rough and insistent. It's a type of silence at least, broken minutes later by: "What would you have me say?"

Poison. Hatred remains the easiest one to swallow, so accustomed to its taste. Yet, it is not the one he reaches for tonight while Marian's smile lingers against his lips. The right words are struck in his throat, like arrows embedded in the tender flesh that take an intense effort to pull out. As her finger curls around his chin, the latent pull of a mage's pulse coaxes forth the lines of his lyrium markings to glow starlight soft. No other person will ever get close to see such a reaction as he searches her eyes, momentarily unguarded of all defenses. "Are you happy?" He traces her cheek with his thumb, weighing on how to continue the question, sprung upon her sudden as a detonation. "With this? The city?" And me, he less so implies, but claws against her spine instead with the pressing need to know. It feels as if Kirkwall's relegating each of them to a role impossible to break out of — and he's growing tired of his assigned performance after so many years. When was the last time any of them felt an emotion even parallel to joy without needing to sacrifice everything?

[ircnwrought]

i don’t regret a single thing about last night. // @underlind (fenrys) to aelin !!

__________△       SOMEWHERE       ALONG       THE       WAY,       THEY       WHOLLY       BROKE       WHATEVER       UNSPOKEN        LIMBO       THEY       HAD       FOUND       THEMSELVES       IN.       perhaps   it   would   always   end   this   way,       waking   together   tangled   in   her   bed   with   his   arms   around   her.     it    is    not    lost    on    her    that    this    is    the    first    night    the    both    of    them    have    slept    through    without    fits    &&    terrors    painted    behind    their    eyes.       this   peace   is   fragile,       but   they   have   built   it   together.     he    has    seen    her    in    hell,       walked    by    her    side    through    it,       seen    her    on    the    other    side.       her   hand   rises   to   his   cheek,       a   thumb   stroking   his   cheekbone   as   her   gaze   levels   on   him   with   an   openness   she   will   only   have   with    him.       her   friend   through   many   battles    &&    now   it   seems    something    more.     ❛    i   have   many   regrets   in   my   life,       but   never   you.     never    this.    ❜       she   moves   forward   slowly   to   claim   his   lips   in   a   soft   kiss.       it   is   the   gentle   touch   they   both   deserve.     it    tastes    of    beginnings.