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unreadpoppy · 4 months ago

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Festis bei umo canavarum (part 1)

Fenris x F!Hawke

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Summary: Hawke and Fenris' relationship, from the moment they met, to them irritating one another, to feelings growing and more.

A/N: This is too long and it's only the first part but I got stuck and decided to post it anyways. Basically, there's many scenes from the game but with some added stuff. These two have been consuming my brain and I needed to write it down to distract myself from real life. Also, there's some sexual harrasment in this chapter, so be warned. Maybe it's a bit OOC but idc.

Word count: 7,774

When Meeran had contacted Hawke about a job, she did not think it would lead her to meeting a handsome elf, but she wasn’t complaining.

Before being attacked by yet another bounty hunter, a white haired man, covered in white tattoos, killed them in a rather unusual way - his hand phasing through their chests while he said “I am not a slave.”

He introduced himself as Fenris. He explained that those hunters had been sent after him by his old master, a Tevinter magister named Danarius. He needed protection and asked Hawke and her companions to help him end Danarius’s life.

They failed, as the magister had already fled his mansion, leaving only shades and rage demons behind. Fenris went outside, to catch some air, and when Hawke and the others appeared, he was leaning against a wall.

“I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul. ” He said, turning to look at Hawke. “And now I find myself in the presence of yet another mage.”

She raised a brow. It seemed that he was yet one more person that did not like mages. Though, considering his story, she wasn’t surprised.

“Oh? Am I?” She asked, although she knew the answer, Hawke hoped she could try to play dumb as to not reveal her identity, just as she did with the templars from time to time.

He did not buy it. “I saw you casting spells inside. I should have realized sooner what you really were.”

She did not like the tone he used. “When you speak like that, you make it seem like I’m sort of a terrible, hidden abomination.”

Fenris squinted his eyes and said “You are a mage.” As if the two things were one and the same. He then shook his head and asked “What manner a mage are you? What is it that you seek?”

Hawke crossed her arms. “Do you have a problem with mages?”

“I have an issue with magic and those who are careless with it.”

It was then that Carver said “If you have a problem with my sister, you have a problem with me.”

“I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth. Idid not find Danarius, but I owe you a debt.” He proceeded to give Hawke all the coin he had. “Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I should gladly render it.”

Once again, she raised a brow, suspicious. “I’m surprised. You did not seem all that thrilled with me a moment ago.”

Fenris sighed. “You are not Danarius. Whether you are anything like him remains to be seen.”

After that, he proceeded to explain what led him to Kirkwall. His previous master had experimented on him, injecting lyrium into his skin, the reason as to how he had killed that man earlier, and why now Danarius was after him.

“He wishes his precious investment back, even if he must rip it from my corpse.”

It was then that Hawke found the perfect opportunity to tease the elf. “Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf.”

Fenris chuckled nervously, clearing his throat and changing the subject. He spoke a bit more of Danarius, his markings and Tevinter, telling Hawke that he would reclaim the mansion as his own and should she need him, he’d be there.

With that, they said their goodbyes and left, Hawke saying she would talk to him later.

“Interesting fellow.” Hawke said to Varric and Carver, once they were heading back to the Hanged Man.

“An escaped ex-slave who hates mages.” Varric said. “This sure will be fun.”

True to her word, Hawke met with Fenris at his mansion the following night.

“Aggregio Pavalli. There are six bottles in the cellar.” He said, holding a wine bottle in his hand. “Danarius used to have me pour it for his guests. My appearance intimidated them.”

Hawke smirked. “I can’t imagine why they would be put off.”

“You say what’s on your mind, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m a very opinionated woman. Might as well share it with the world.”

Fenris huffed, taking a swing from the bottle before throwing it at the wall. “Good to know I can still take pleasure in the small things.”

Hawke raised a brow and looked at him. She worried for a second, questions raising in her mind about his behavior, and in part she wanted to comfort him.

Instead, however, Hawke decided to go with her usual sassiness. “You could at least offer me a glass first, you know.”

“There’s more, if you’re really interested.”

She waved a hand. “Perish the thought. How else would you redecorate the walls?” She leaned back in her chair, getting more comfortable.

Fenris laughed and then eyed her for a moment before sitting down. “You never answered my question.” She raised a brow and he clarified. “About what you are seeking.”

Hawke sighed. “Not more than what everyone else seeks. A good life for me and my family.”

He squinted his eyes. “A noble purpose. But I’ve seen many crimes committed in the name of that.”

“That’s rich coming from the man who carved his path to freedom in blood. By his own admission.”

Fenris clenched his jaw. “You saw that as if we were anything alike.”

“Are we not?”

“No.” He said harshly. “We are nothing alike. You mages will always hold more power than those of us who don’t use magic.”

She frowned. “If we were so powerful, we would have already ended the chantry and the templars.”

“It’s practically what they have done in Tevinter.”

“Good thing we are not in Tevinter then.” Hawke said.

“No, we are not.”

The conversation was growing tiring for the both of them. Before it became worse, Fenris decided to change the subject. He turned to look at the flames. “I’ve wanted to leave my past behind. But it won’t stay there.” Then he looked at Hawke again. “Tell me, have you never wanted to return to Ferelden?”

‘When he asks that after that little argument, it’s almost as if he wants me to leave’ Hawke thought. Instead, she said “I’ve no home to return to.”

“The Blight is over. You could rebuild what you lost. Do you truly not want to?”

She looked at him, studying his face, and something told her this question meant more to him than just mere curiosity. What it was, however, she could not tell.

Hawke sighed. “I must admit, I have thought about it. But if we were to return, we would face the same challenges we did when we arrived in Kirkwall a year ago. Better to stay here and tend what we have, then to start over again.”

“So you just moved on?”

“I had to.” She said. “My home was destroyed, my father and sister were dead, and while I’ll always carry them and Ferelden in my heart, I can’t cling on to the past forever if I mean to live my life.” Hawke looked at him. “Change is good.”

His lips formed a line. “I see.” He turned his face away, a frown appearing on his face and she wondered about what he was thinking.

“Do you intend on staying here?” Hawke asked.

“I haven’t decided.” He shrugged. “For now, it’s as good as any other place. I would return to Seheron if I could but…there is no life for me there.”

“You’re from Seheron?”

“It’s what I’ve been told.”

She frowned. “You were very young when you left, then?”

“Perhaps.”

Hawke blinked and decided to drop that line of questioning. “Speaking of plans for the future…You could track your former master down, I assume. Strike him when he least expects it.”

“I imagine he has returned to Minrathous, though I would not dare go near the city while he still lives.” He paused for a moment. “No, it is better to wait for him to leave his fortress. Fight from a fortified position.” Fenris looked at Hawke. “I do not expect your help when that day comes, but I would not turn it aside.”

“What, you think because I’m a mage I wouldn’t help you?” She said, smirking. Before he could reply, she added “I’m teasing you, don’t worry. But tell me, how long have you been running from Danarius?”

“Three years, now. He has a way of finding me - perhaps it is the markings?” He questioned to himself. “Whatever the means, it never takes him long for him to follow. This is the first time I’ve given him reason to pause. I suppose there’s an advantage in numbers.”

“Oh? So you’ve been alone this whole time, then?”

“Sort of. I had hirelings from time to time, when I had the coin. Never anyone of substance - until you.” He shook his head. “Danarius will not give up, however. I await his return.”

“And what if he gives up? What then.”

“Then I go to him. I will not live with a wolf at my back.”

“You won’t let sleeping dogs lie?”

“No. I am no fool.”

“I understand.” She said. Although they had only just met, Hawke noticed that Fenris seemed the type to never let go of the past. If that would be good or bad was yet to be seen. “Although, if you want to begin a new life, you could stay here.”

“I could see myself staying. For the right reasons.” He said, looking at her.

She raised a brow, a half smirk on her face. “Maybe it’s just me, but it sounds like you want to stick around.”

He smiled briefly and then shook his head. “I should thank you again for helping with the hunters. Had I known Anso would find me a woman so capable, I’d ask sooner.”

Hawke smiled. “It sounds like you’re about to ask for a loan.”

“Well, this mansion does require some upkeep.” He then stood up. “Perhaps I’ll practice my flattery for your next visit? With any luck I’ll become better at it.”

“Hopefully.” Hawke stood up, making her way towards the door. “It was quite a nice visit. I shall see you soon. Good night, Fenris.” She said as she left, and he only nodded

The week after they had met, Fenris followed Hawke and Varric to the Gallows for the first time. He had heard the stories about the place, of its past and present, and that now it was where the Circle of Magi resided.

Fenris had never been in a Circle before, though he had heard of them in Tevinter. He always wondered what they were like, if they truly could contain the mages and stop them from their wickedness.

At first, he had been somewhat excited about the idea. A place where mages couldn’t hurt anyone. But this one felt more like a prison, and for a moment, Fenris did not know if that was better or worse.

And although he usually did not mind the presence of templars, there were too many here and for a moment, he worried about Hawke’s presence there.

“Are you certain it is wise for you to be here?” He asked her.

She turned around and raised a brow at this question, but then smirked. “Oh, I’m sure nobody will notice little old me.”

“Very reassuring.”

“What? You mean to say that Hawke’s not your everyday, regular, citizen?” Varric chimed in sarcastically.

“Exactly. There’s nothing special about me for them to question.” Hawked then leaned. “Besides, these templars are so stupid, they could not tell someone was a mage even if they saw them practicing magic.”

Fenris scoffed. “If the templars are truly that bad at their jobs, why are you and Anders and Merrill so careful all the time?” He took a step forward as Hawke clenched her jaw. “I mean, by your own words, you should be able to easily parade magic around here and no one would notice.” He crossed his arms. “But the templars are good at what they do. Maybe a little too good, or else Anders wouldn’t complain about his little apostate friends being recaptured all the time.”

Hawke’s nostrils flared. “You are infuriating.”

He raised a brow. “Now you know how I feel.”

Before she could reply, Varric stepped in between the two. “Sorry to interrupt your lovely argument, but people are starting to look.” He said, pointing to the others around them.

Hawke took a deep breath and stepped behind. “Don’t worry, Varric, I’m sure Fenris and I can act like responsible adults.” She gave him a tight, fake smile.

“I know I can.” He said. “I’m not so sure if you mages can.”

Fenris did not understand Hawke’s interest in him. He never thought the woman to be so curious but after walking out of the Qunari compound, she began questioning.

“I didn’t know you knew the Qun.” She said. “Or that you spoke Qunlat.”

He huffed “There is much you don’t know about me.”

“And what if I wanted to know?”

“I would say you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

“Why? Because I want to know more about you?”

“Precisely.” Fenris walked ahead, trying to end the conversation.

But apparently, Hawke wasn’t done yet, as she soon catched up to him.

“You’re an interesting guy. What’s the harm in wanting to know more?”

“I’m not interesting.” He said, looking ahead and trying to ignore her.

“Oh, but you are.” She smirked. “I’m sure underneath that facade you put-”

Fenris stopped and turned to Hawke, irritated “I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, but I suggest you stop.”

“Or what?”

Fenris frowned, confused.

“If I don’t stop, what are you going to do?” She said.

“I-” Fenris hesitated, not knowing what to say, when Hawke began to laugh.

“You should see your face when you get mad.” She sighed. “Don’t worry, I just like pulling on your leg. I’ll leave you to your brooding.”

“I don’t-” Fenris began to say but Hawke had walked away, Varric showing up besides him.

“Yes, you do, Broody. Yes you do.” The dwarf said chuckling, and followed behind Hawke, leaving the elf to shake his head and wonder what exactly had he gotten himself into.

Fenris was an enigma that deeply confounded Hawke.

By all accounts, she should hate him. At every possible turn, Fenris would voice his distaste for mages. He’d speak on how they could not be trusted, give them too much power, freedom and you’ll have another Tevinter. The circle, the templars and the chantry’s actions were all justified in his eyes - after all, to him, mages were not strong enough to not give in to the temptation of demons and blood magic.

Hawke did not blame him for having that opinion, not after all he had endured. She believed anyone in his shoes would think the same. Maker, even she would hate mages if she had been stripped of her memory, her personhood and been experimented on, fated to carry those marks forever.

So no, Hawke did not blame Fenris for hating mages.

But it still hurt whenever he spoke so ill of them - in a way, he was speaking of her.

In Lothering, Hawke never thought much about her fellow mages or their plight. Of course she knew how bad things could be in the Circle, her father having escaped one, but besides herself and her family, she didn’t think of others.

Perhaps it had been selfish of her to not care about those beyond her family but it was not like there was much she could do. She didn’t know other mages besides her father and Bethany, why should she care about them?

It was only after Kirkwall that she began caring.

Although she was accustomed to hiding her identity in Lothering, the dynamic in Kirkwall was more oppressive. Knight-Commander Meredith seemed intent on squashing every mage under her thumb, the number of Tranquils rising everyday.

At first, she thought Anders was a little too radical in his views about the Circle and the Chantry. But then they met Karl and reality came crashing down on her.

She didn’t know how to explain what she felt. The idea of having her emotions, her personality stripped from her because she commited the sin of being born was too much to bear. Surely, there must be some other way, she thought, some other way to ensure mages wouldn’t turn to demons without doing…this.

“All color, all music in the world, gone.” Karl had said.

Hawke’s heart beat loudly in her ears, she felt like vomiting and she wanted to cry. She wanted to not be born a mage, to live in peaceful oblivion where she did not have to think of this, did not have to hear every templar she met say how dangerous her people were.

For days, that had been the only thing on her mind and maybe that was why she snapped at Fenris that night.

She did not remember what he had even said. It was probably another one of this comments on how all mages were terrible. Usually, she’d ignore them, but that night, she didn’t.

“Did you know” Hawke said, turning back to face him ”that mages do not choose to be born with magic?”

He frowned, getting by surprise with the question. “Yes, I do know. Why do you ask?”

“Well, because it certainly doesn’t look like it when you say those things about mages.”

“Am I supposed to turn a blind eye to all that mages have done simply because they were born that way?” He said angrily.

“That is not what I said.” Hawke tried to argue but he didn’t listen as he continued his rant.

“Is what Danarius and every other Tevinter magister done justified because they didn’t have a choice? You mages are all alike” he scoffed “You think your perceived oppression allows you to do whatever.”

“Perceived? Have you not seen how the templars treat us?”

“That’s because you give them all the reason to! If anything, the templars are not enough. Look at all the blood mages running around in this city.”

“They only do so because they have nothing else to turn to!” She shouted. “They take us from our homes, they give us no freedom and if we step just one hair out of line, we get ripped of our very essence. What else is there to do? There’s so many blood mages because of the templars and the chantry’s actions.”

“So you think blood magic is good?”

“No!” She groaned, frustrated. “I don’t agree with blood magic but I can understand why so many turn to it.”

Fenris shook his head. “Then you are just as bad as them.”

Hawke closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at him defiantly. “Then why don’t you go tell the Knight-Commander about me?”

“What?”

She took a step forward. “If you think all mages should be locked up, then by all means, go tell the next templar you see about me, Anders and Merrill. We are apostates, after all.”

“Hawke.” He said in a low tone, almost as a warning. She continued to move towards him.

“No, because if you truly, truly think all mages are this awful and cannot be trusted, you’d already found the nearest templar and pointed them towards our houses.” She stopped at an arm’s length from him. “So tell me, Fenris, why do you keep us around if you hate all mages?”

It was his turn to take a deep breath. “I don’t…hate all mages.”

It was Hawke’s turn to be surprised. She frowned, waiting for him to continue.

“I am not blind. I know magic has its uses, and there are undoubtedly mages with good intentions. But even the best-intentioned mage can fall prey to temptation and their power is a curse to inflict upon others.”

“Do you think that of me?”

He looked at her. “You’re strong, Hawke.” He stepped closer to her. “Strong, capable… “ He stopped himself from saying something else, clearing his throat and then continuing. “You might be the only mage I trust to not listen to demons or turn to blood magic. Not all mages are like you, however.” After he said that, Fenris stepped back, walking away and leaving here alone.

Those sentences kept echoing in Hawke’s mind as she made her way back to Gamlen’s house. It hadn’t been the first time he had said that - after invading Danarius’ mansion, Fenris told her something similar.

“Had I known Anso would send a woman so capable, I might have asked him to look sooner.”

She remembered that first night when they met. She flirted with him then, finding it amusing how flustered he got when she called him handsome, his nervous chuckle endearing to her.

“Perhaps I’ll practice my flattery for the next visit? With any luck I’ll become better at it.”

Hawke shook her head. If what happened between the two of them that night served as indication, he had only gotten worse at it.

By all means, she should be angry at him, and part of her was. But the other part couldn’t help but latch on to one single thought: Fenris doesn’t hate me.

Fenris confounded her profusely because at the same time he hated mages, that he disagreed with her, he’d still trust Hawke.

And for some reason, that made Hawke feel something like warmth.

It was the middle of the night when Fenris was awoken by a knock on his door. He tried to ignore it but whoever it was, they wouldn’t go away until he opened the door.

“Varric.” He said, once he saw who was bothering him.

“Finally. For a second, I thought I was going to have to lockpick your door.”

“It’s late. What are you doing here?”

“It’s about Hawke.”

Fenris straightened his back. “Did something happen to her?”

“Yes. No. It’s complicated.” Varric scratched the back of his head. “Remember how we just got the first payment for all that treasure in the Deep Roads?” Fenris nodded. “Hawke was in a bit of a low mood because of her brother and I convinced her to go drink in the Hanged Man and one thing led to another, and well, I guess you have to see it for yourself.” Varric explained. “Look, I just need someone to drag Hawke back to her home, since I tried and failed.”

“And why call me? Wouldn’t Aveline be better for this? They’re friends and all.”

He shook his head. “Aveline’s gonna give her a scolding, and the others…you how they’re like. Rivianit would encourage her more, Daisy would end up joining in, and Blondie will talk about mages again. It has to be you.”

Fenris huffed. “Fine. But you’ll be owning me a favour.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you wish, elf.”

The two made their way to the Hanged Man, and from the outside, music could be heard.

“A group of traveling bards arrived a few hours ago.” Varric explained, before opening the door.

The moment Fenris stepped in, he understood why the dwarf was so worried.

There was Hawke, hopping from table to table, sitting in strange men’s lap and kissing them before standing up, throwing her arms in the air and dancing. Amusing as that was, it wouldn’t be much of a problem if it wasn’t for the fact that, that night, the Hanged Man was filled with templar recruits, many of whom eyed Hawke hungrily.

For a moment, Fenris just watched as she threw her head around, her brown hair splashing on her face, as she danced with her eyes closed without a care in the world. He had never seen her so…free. So relaxed, even if it was alcohol induced.

And he only smirked when, for a brief second, her green eyes met his, a blush spread across her round cheeks.

But the moment was short lived as a templar roughly grabbed her waist, his hands roaming her body, as he whispered something in her ear. Whatever it was that he had said, it was followed by Hawke elbowing him in the stomach.

“Get…off of me.” She said, speech a bit blurred.

“Feisty.” The man grabbed her wrist, bringing her close as he tried to kiss her. “I like it when they put up a fight.”

She struggled against him. “I said get off!” At the sudden shouting, the musicians stopped, and for a moment, all the in the tavern seemed to stop and look at the commotion, all on edge due to the templar presence.

In an instant, Fenris separated the two, putting himself in front of Hawke. “You heard her.”

“And who do you think you are?” The man put his hands on his chest and pushed Fenris. “I’m a fucking templar!”

Fenris growled, his lyrium markings beginning to glow blue. But before he could even think about striking the templar, Hawke decided to chime in.

“You…templars think you can…” she hiccuped “do what you…want. That you-you rule this city.”

“Hawke.” Fenris said, in that same warning tone he used before, turning his head to look at her.

“Don’t…don’t ‘Hawke’ me.” She said to Fenris and then turned to look at the templar. “You templar don’t scare me.” She took a swing from the cup in her hand, one that Varric immediately pried away from her. “If any- if anything, you should be scared of me.”

The templar’s expression went from angry to amused as he chuckled “That’s cute, but I don’t see why I should be scared of a drunk girl.”

Hawke stepped forward “You don’t-you don’t know what I’m capable of.” She said and from the corner of his eye, Fenris saw a spark of electricity run in between her fingers.

“Hawke” He whispered this time, his fingers lightly touching her wrist. She looked down, only now noticing that she was almost casting a spell.

The man didn’t seem to notice as he said “Don’t I? You couldn’t even fight me off by yourself. So, unless you’re one of those dirty mages…” he stopped mid sentence, noticing how Hawke shifted nervously.

The other templars seemed to have picked up on that as well, as some of them suddenly stood up. “You’re not a mage, are you?” The oldest of the group said.

Hawke looked at Fenris, nervous. He thought it weird, as in another time, she would have easily lied to them. But then he realized: she was so drunk, even lying seemed impossible to her now, and the templars had already caught her slipping.

Fenris evaluated the scene. Killing templars would not go well but he also wouldn’t just let them take Hawke. His jaw clenched, as he moved his hand towards his sword.

But, before he could act, Varric moved to his side, addressing the templars. “This is Enchanter Hawke from the Circle of Magi in Ferelden, she was sent here by order of King Alistair himself to help with the apostates and this is how you treat her?” He lied and then scoffed. “I remember a time in which your order was more respectable than that.”

It was the templars turn to gulp. “But she-she-”

“She what?” Varric interrupted him. “Had a little too much to drink? Aren’t you doing the same?” He threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “Maker forbid anyone try to have some fun around here.”

The templars all looked at each other, panicking. “Madam, I-”

“Oh sod it off. You harassed her enough.” The dwarf stepped in front of the templar. “If I were you, I’d run from here before she decides to tell the Knight-Commander how awful you’ve been treating such an honorable guest of the king.”

The man nodded, picked up his things and all the templars silently exited the tavern.

For a moment, everything stilled as no one moved, unsure of what to do.

Varric motioned to the bards. “Why’d you stop the music?” He said, and they began playing again. He then turned to the barkeeper. “And you - one round of drinks for everyone here, on my tab.” The people cheered and went back to their usual drinking and talking.

“Thank y-you, Varric.” Hawke said, through hiccups.

“Couldn’t let the templars mess with my favorite human, could I?” He said, and then turned to Fenris. “You make sure she gets home in one piece, ok.”

The elf nodded, leading Hawke outside the Hanged Man. It was only then that he realized he was still holding onto her wrist, though she seem to mind - or maybe, she hadn’t noticed yet. Either way, he let go and the two began making their way to Gamlen's house.

Usually, they wouldn’t have taken long, but due to Hawke tripping every five seconds and getting the way wrong, they had barely walked anything. After the tenth time she stumbled upon nothing, Fenris had enough.

Without a word, he picked up Hawke, one hand underneath her knees and the other supporting her back.

“Woah” She said before holding onto him for support. “You’re tall.”

“I’m not that tall.” He said and then huffed. “You’re heavier than you look.”

Hawke hiccuped. “Ar-are you calling me fat?”

“No.”

“Good.” She said, and put her head on his chest. For a moment, he thought of how close they were, how he’d never been that physically close to someone before. When he first got his markings, the pain was so unbearable, he refrained from others. But now, it was just a dull ache, one he could avoid if he didn’t think too much about it. Maybe it had been so long that he never realized they didn’t hurt as much.

Or maybe it was-

“Great, we’re killing templars now.” His thoughts were interrupted by Hawke saying that in a funny voice, followed by a chuckle.

“What?”

“Isn’t that what you…you said once? That one time, in the place with the people.” She explained. “You sound so…exasperated at the thought of killing templars.”

“Why are you bringing this up now?”

“Because” she paused to take a deep breath “you looked like you were going to do your….your ripping out heart thing. You were…glowing.”

Fenris said nothing.

“Would you?” She asked.

“Would I what?”

“Would you have killed him? The templar?”

Fenris thought of his answer for a moment, before saying “Yes.”

“What?” Hawke said, flabbergasted. “Stop, stop, put me down.” She struggled until he did so. She wobbled at first, but then looked at him. “You would have?”

He crossed his arms. “Yes, Hawke, I would have.”

“Why?”

“You’d rather I rat you out to them?” Fenris said, deflecting.

“No…but you could have.” She said. Then, Hawke groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “You’re so confusing to me.”

He raised a brow. “How so?”

Hawke inhaled deeply, walking around as she spoke.“Every time we encounter some mage and templar, you always take their side, and then you pester me about it when I let the mages go scot-free and I don’t know, you’re always complaining about us and this and that, and I just…” she sighed, frowning and shaking her head “I didn’t…I didn’t think you’d kill a templar for a mage.”

“Not a mage.” He said. “You.”

She looked at him, her expression softening. “Fenris-” She whispered.

“We should get to your home soon.” He cut her off and continued walking. “Before any thugs decide to rob us and you’re in condition to be fighting.”

Hawke gasped offended, walking next to him. “I can handle myself.”

“When you’re sober. You can’t even walk a straight line.” Fenris commented on how wobbly her walk was.

She only huffed and walked ahead of him, saying “I’ll show you who can’t walk straight, you ass.”

Fenris chuckled at her antics, the rest of the walk silent as the two finally reached Gamlen’s house.

“You know, with luck, I’ll be buying the estate back soon.” Hawke said, walking the steps to the front door. “We should celebrate when it happens.”

“Only if you promise not to get this drunk again.” Fenris smirked.

Hawke gave him a smile. “You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Take care, Hawke.” Fenris said before walking away.

“I’ll try.” She whispered but he was already too far gone.

Three years had passed since her expedition to the Deep Roads.

Three years since Carver became a Grey Warden.

And three years of constantly thinking about him.

Fenris.

The more time she spent with him, the more Hawke developed feelings for Fenris, and she did not know what to do with that. It seemed to her that the more they bickered and disagreed, the more she liked him.

It didn’t make sense.

They’d argue about the right of mages, and he’d stare her down, looking at her with rage, and yet, Hawke would feel a heat spreading in her cheeks. She’d shake her head and turn away, hoping he didn’t notice it.

She shouldn’t feel like this, not when Fenris spoke of how ‘evil’ all mages were. It was wrong, and yet, she couldn’t help but blush when he looked at her that intensely.

Hawke didn’t remember who said it, but she once heard how the line between love and hate was thin. But Fenris didn’t hate her, which meant that…

No. He didn’t love her and she didn’t love him.

Right?

She didn’t love him, Hawke would tell herself whenever she began thinking about him. They were just friends. That was why she wanted to take all his worries away, to show him that there was so much more to his life than just revenge.

It was because of friendship that she always seemed to look out for him in battle, even if she knew he was capable of handling himself. And that was why she worried about him, checking on him more than the others to be sure he was doing well. Why she cared about him and what he thought of her, why she wanted to prove him wrong about mages.

Why she looked at him and wondered what his skin would feel like against hers, his breath on her neck, his whispers on her ear.

But Hawke could only sigh. They weren’t friends. Fenris disagreed with almost everything she did. They were rivals, too different from each other to ever reach some sort of common ground.

She didn’t love him because she couldn’t love him. They were too different to ever work together.

Fenris thought he was getting sick. Or better yet, Hawke must have cast some spell on him because why couldn’t he get her off his head?

Of course she would put something on him to control his thoughts, make him more agreeable and compliant. She was a mage after all, and he knew they were all the same, never to be trusted.

Fenris sighed. Hawke would never do that and he knew. Yes, they disagreed on almost everything and got into more arguments than he had the patience for, and Hawke was a bloody mage but still, he knew she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t mess with his thoughts or deny him his independence.

He hated that in the time they’d known each other, she proved herself trustworthy to him. He knew that she was the one casting healing spells on him during combat (Maker knows Anders would die before doing that). She’d go to his house and listen to him, even though he rarely had anything to say. Even when they played Wicked Grace, she didn’t cheat as much as the others.

Hawke was a woman that spoke her mind, even if it got her in trouble. Whether it was to flirt and tease or to sass someone, she wasn’t afraid to say it. And even though it made him a bit embarrassed, Fenris liked it when she called him handsome.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. She was a mage. It was mages that made as miserable as he was right now, who took everything from him. Fenris had seen first hand what mages could do if they were allowed too much freedom and yet, there was Hawke.

Sighing, Fenris opened another of the Aggregio bottles, taking a swing from it. He wanted to hate her, needed to hate her…then why did his mind kept wandering to thoughts of her. Her and her smile, her laughter, her smirk, her eyes, her hair-

“By the Maker,” he thought “she’ll be the death of me.”

When Hawke arrived at Fenris' house, Isabela was leaving. The pirate winked at her but didn’t say anything as Hawke entered the room.

“Three years.” Fenris said, looking elsewhere as she sat on the empty chair. “There’s still no sign of Danarius. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s finally given up.”

She frowned. “But isn’t this his mansion? Surely, he must know you’re here.”

Fenris turned to her. “Would you be surprised to know that this isn’t, in fact, his mansion?”

“Oh?”

“It belongs to a Tevinter merchant, one who has evidently given up on the place. Perhaps he is dead. Perhaps Danarius killed him.”

She chuckled. “He was probably killed.

“Why do you think so?”

“Tevinters. Never seen them give up on something that they claim belongs to them.” She said. “Besides, isn’t that what they do? Kill each other to get their possessions?”

Fenris smirked. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like me.”

She shrugged. “What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me.”

He shook his head. “Either way, if Danarius is aware of my presence, he has done nothing.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to miss the attention.” Hawke said with a raised brow.

He said nothing, as he looked away, and for a moment, she wondered if she said something wrong. A small moment of silence passed until he spoke again.

“Tell me: what do you do when you stop running?” Fenris asked, looking at Hawke.

She looked at him quizzically, then took a deep breath, thinking on the answer.

“I guess it depends on what you want to do. Some people would go back to what they did before.”

“But I am asking you.”

Hawke sighed. “My opinion is that you should start anew.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, you’ll look back and realize you spent your whole life hunting ghosts of the past instead of actually living.” She shook her head, looking down. “Our past will always be a part of us. It doesn’t mean it has to shape our future too.

”

“But what if you can’t forget what happened to you? What if it keeps catching up to you.”

“Then you keep moving forward.” She looked up at him, knowing he was talking about himself. “You don’t have to forget, Fenris. But you can let go.”

“I don’t know how.” He frowned slightly. “My first memory is receiving these markings, the lyrium branded into my flesh. The agony wiped away everything. Whatever life I had before I became a slave…it’s lost.” He stood up abruptly. “I shouldn’t trouble you with this. My problems are not yours.”

For a second, she didn’t know what to say. But as a smirk began forming in her face, she found the perfect opportunity to tease him. “I might be able to help with your problems…” she raised a brow “or give you a few more.”

He crossed his arms. “More problems than you probably do, I assume.”

She gasped dramatically, a hand on her chest. “Me? Causing problems? Never.”

Fenris chuckled, amused as she laughed at herself. “You’re a beautiful woman, Hawke. Is there no one else who has your…attention?” He asked.

That caught Hawke by surprise, as a blush spread on her face.

Fenris thought she was beautiful?

Moreover, he wouldn’t ask if there was anyone else if he wasn’t interested in her…would he?

In other circumstances, she’d probably say something witty. Now, however, she chose to say “Do you see anyone else here?”

Fenris uncrossed his arms. “I’m an escaped slave, and an elf, living on a borrowed mansion. None of those things bother you?” He asked.

“And I’m an apostate refugee.” She replied. “Does that bother you?”

“You have me there.” He took in a breath. “You raise an interesting point. I’ll have to…consider it.”

Hawke stood up from her seat. “I’ll leave you to your thinking then. It is getting late.” She said and left.

On her walk home - which was not too far from Fenris’ home - she pondered on what he had said. Did he think that his status as an ex-slave, as an elf, would make her want him less?

Hawke allowed herself to hope that her feelings were reciprocated. That Fenris was starting to change his mind on mages.

That comment… ‘You’re a beautiful woman, Hawke.’ She kept replaying that sentence in her head again and again as she lay in bed. It wasn’t the first time someone had said that, but somehow, it coming from him felt…different. Special.

‘Witch’ he called Merrill. ‘Abomination’ he called Anders. ‘Dangerous’ he called every other mage.

But Hawke, he had called ‘beautiful’. She shouldn’t be blushing lie a girl as she was, especially with how he treated the others but she couldn’t help it. And so, that night, Hawke went to sleep with a smile on her face.

Not too long after their last conversation, Fenris called Hawke to his mansion again. When she arrived, he was already drinking.

She shook her head at the sight.

“Last bottle of the Aggreio. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.” He offered the bottle to her.

“And what’s that?” She asked and drank from the wine.

“The anniversary of my escape. Astia valla femundis.” Fenris said as she gave him the bottle back, his voice showing the first signs of drunkenness. “Care to hear the story?”

She leaned back on her chair. “Of course.” She said “I do enjoy listening to you talk.”

Hawke saw a corner of his mouth turn upwards in a half smirk. “There are few pleasures greater than speaking with a beautiful woman.”

Once again, she blushed, seeing his smirk widen at it.

She shook her head. “Flatterer.”

“What can I say? I told you I’d practice it.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s see. You’ve heard of Seheron? The Imperium and the Qunari have fought over the island for centuries now.” Hawke nodded and he continued.

“I was there with Danarius during a Qunari attack. I managed to get him to a ship - but there was no room for a slave. I was left behind. I barely got out of the city alive.”

Hawke raised both eyebrows. “Well, nothing like a war to cover one’s escape.”

“I had no intention of escaping.” He clarified. “That time.”

Fenris explained how a group of rebels - the Fog Warriors - found him and helped him. How they were free and didn’t want to give him back to Danarius.

“He ordered me to kill them. So I did. I killed them all.”

“Once a slave always a slave?” She said

He looked down. “It felt inevitable. My master had returned and this, this fantasy life was over. But once it was over, I looked down at their bodies. I felt…I couldn’t…” He didn’t finished the sentence, looking away. “I ran. And never looked back.”

The two of them were silent for a moment.

“You have questions.” Fenris said, looking at Hawke. “Ask them.”

“How well did you know these Fog Warriors?”

“I only knew them a few months, but in that time, I felt as if I truly lived.” He said. “They were bold. Strong. Free with their affections. I was in awe of them, and owed them everything. And I turned on them even so.”

“But then, why didn’t you escape Danarius earlier?”

“You were not a slave. A slave does not dream of freedom, or wonder at possibilities. You think only of your master’s desires, and what the next hour will bring. It did not occur to me that I could be anything else until I had a taste of it.” He spoke in a soft tone.

Although Hawke had other questions, she decided to stop there. She looked at him and said “Thank you for sharing this with me. It can’t be easy to talk about it.”

He took a swing from the bottle. “I have never spoken about what happened to anyone. I’ve never wanted to. You and I don’t always agree but…”

Fenris stopped, as if measuring his next words and he looked at her…pained? ashamed? There was an emotion in his eyes that she couldn’t quite figure out.

“You were saying?”

“I…have never allowed anyone too close.” He said. “When my markings were created, the pain was…extraordinary. And the memory lingers.” Hawke frowned at that, but her face quickly softened as he said the next words “But you are unlike any women I’ve ever met. With you it might be different.”

“We could find out.” She said.

“On another evening, perhaps.”

Hawke’s heart hammered in her chest as she felt the heat rising once again to her cheeks at the prospect that her feelings for him were not one-sided. As she noticed the half smirk on his face, due to her reaction, she decided to deflect for a moment.

“Does that mean that you’ve never…”

He shrugged. “If there was someone before, I have no memory of it.”

She inhaled. “And after you escaped?”

“I stayed nowhere for long. Who would I even trust?”

“And you trust me?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, I just…you’re always wary around mages. I wouldn’t put it past you to never trust me.”

A small smile began to form on his face. “At first, I didn’t. I thought you mages to be all the same. I kept waiting for the moment you’d prove my suspicions. But it never came.” Fenris took a deep breath. “I didn’t think I needed anyone. Or wanted anyone.” He looked at her through half lidded eyes “Until now.”

Hawke felt hot. She leaned forwards and grabbed the bottle from his hand. “I’ll be the one needing this now.” She said before taking a swing from it and returning it to him.

Fenris raised the bottle high “A last toast, then: to the fallen.”

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