#fenrys angst

[shadowdaddies]

Reunited - Part II

Fenrys x Reader

Part I | Part III

Summary: after years of working as a spy in Adarlan, you are finally reunited with your cousin, Aelin, as you join the war to reclaim Terrasen and bring peace to Erilea. What you don't expect is to meet your mate in the middle of a war.

A/N: this story will have at least two more parts; this one is very angsty I’m sorry

Warnings: canon-typical violence, EOS spoilers

The door to the pub slammed behind Aedion with such a force that you flinched in your seat. 

“He will come around,” you murmured, reaching your hand across the table towards your father. You sighed softly at Gavriel’s dejected expression, taking his hand in your own as you mustered a weak smile. “I’ll talk to him,” you promised, knowing the sway you held with your brother.

Your father’s tawny eyes shone with something like pride as he squeezed your hand, his blonde hair swaying as he shook his head. “Aedion is right to feel the way that he does. I don’t expect him to come around easily. He is as stubborn as your mother,” Gavriel paused, a lump working in his throat as he studied you. “And you are as fiercely kind.”

You opened your mouth to say more, something to comfort him, when an alarm rang in the distance. Gavriel had drawn his dagger before you could blink, his body blocking yours protectively from the rest of the room. Another alarm sounded from the lookout tower, dreading realization crashing over you like the waves you looked to out the window. 

Jumping from your seat, you sprinted up the stairs to Rolfe’s office Aelin stood, her relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to Rolfe’s torrent of emotions. He regretfully reached a tattooed hand towards Aelin, the blonde gladly shaking it. “Thank you for your assistance, Lord Rolfe.”

The mischievous glint in your cousin’s eyes told you all that you needed to know, but Aelin wasted no time barking orders for everyone in the room to get to the ships and prepare for the Valg’s approach. 

Fenrys found you quickly, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist as you hurried towards the docks. Despite everything, the peace that filled you at his simple touch was undeniable. In the few days you had spent together, Fenrys had become an anchor in the storm of this impending war. 

“Are you okay?” he murmured, voice like a soft balm to your nerves as you took his hand from around your waist, weaving your fingers through his own. 

Your gaze flicked to his, the tenderness in his onyx eyes grounding you in the moment. “I’m alright,” you promised, squeezing his hand in reassurance. 

You reached the ship, Fenrys lifting you by the waist to help you over the ledge of the vessel, only for you to trip and stumble into his warm, toned chest. Your hearts pounded, synchronized even in the chaos as you made your way to the bow of the boat where Aelin and Rowan stood.

Salty air whipped around your face in breathtaking levels of wind, seawater splashing as Rowan’s wind propelled the ship unnaturally fast against the waves. Lysandra’s scales shone underneath the water, what would be a dazzling sight if not for the fear that had worked its way deep inside of you at the sight of the Valg fleet approaching. 

The next hour was a blur of fighting, canon fire, sea monsters, and every impossible thing you never believed could happen in this world. Nightmares followed the next several nights. The image of Aelin, burning out of control and falling into the sea, Fenrys’s hand ripping from your own as he dove after her.

~~~

That night, you awoke in a cold sweat, hands clawing at the edges of the mattress as you’d clung to the railing of the ship when you’d watched your mate dive out of sight. You had barely registered your surroundings - the peaceful inside of your cabin - when a familiar warm hand touched your shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m here,” Fenrys murmured in your ear, a silent sob breaking through you at his voice. “Can I hold you?” he asked, hand lightly rubbing your shoulder. 

You nodded, sniffling as you tugged Fenrys’s hand from your shoulder, wrapping it around your waist as you moved as close as possible to his warmth. “You scared me today,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “I thought... I thought that this wonderful thing, this bond with an incredible male had come just in time for me to lose you. And I can’t. I can’t lose you, Fenrys. I’m sorry if it’s too soon for me to say that, but I don’t know how I’ve lived without you in my life.”

Blonde curls fell across your cheek as Fenrys leaned down, his lips warm as they pressed a lingering touch to your ear. “I understand completely. You have brought a light to my life that I did not think possible, and I would do anything to keep you safe and happy. That is why I dove after Aelin. She will keep you safe - I know that. And you are my priority now. You have given me new purpose.”

In all your years - even before those spent as a spy in Adarlan - you had never experienced such profound intimacy. Never connected, cared for someone as deeply as you did for your mate. It was frightening to consider, but his warm press against your body filled any cracks of doubt and worry, allowing you to sleep soundly in his arms. 

Each night passed the same way, Fenrys and you now sharing the same bed, simply holding each other. Your physical intimacy never went further than a kiss on the cheek, arms wrapped around one another’s waist, but the emotional connection was something you did not believe possible.

~~~

When Melisande’s fleet descended upon you, Fenrys kept you close to his side, the two of you working seamlessly as a team to defend your ships and allies from the Valg. Canon fire roared in your ears as you saw Lorcan’s dark form at the stern of the ship - his eyes set on the coast where he had left Elide. 

“Fenrys!” you called, desperate for your mate’s attention as Lorcan abandoned ship, the desperation with which he fought his way towards shore something you wouldn’t have understood until you met Fenrys. Your mate caught your gaze, his onyx eyes flaring wide as he tracked Lorcan’s movements.

“Elide is in danger. I need you to trust me - I will go help them, but I want you safe here on the ship,” Fenrys pleaded, hands cupping your cheeks as he blocked out the world to focus on you. 

“I can’t leave you again,” you admitted, hand coming up to hold his own. Silver lined your eyes as Fenrys’s forehead leaned against your own. “Please,” you whispered, voice broken as you held him close, as though you could stop him from leaving.

Your father’s hand clasped on Fenrys’s shoulder, drawing the two of you from your moment. “It’s now or never,” he spoke, voice firm yet warm as Gavriel nodded towards the dingy. “We will be able to hold off these forces, but we need to leave now if you want to help Lorcan and Elide.”

Without a second thought, you ran towards the dingy, hopping inside along your mate and father as the three of you rowed to shore. Stumbling through the sand, your legs ached from the strain of running towards the crowd of people further inland. And time stood still as you recognized the pale, black-haired female lashing out dark power at Aelin. 

Maeve’s eyes shone with wicked delight as people stood around, helpless while an exhausted Aelin crumpled before the fae queen. Your father rushed forward, leaving you behind with Fenrys as he pleaded Maeve to spare Aelin.

“Please,” Gavriel whispered, kneeling before Maeve. “Leave Aelin be. Take me instead. Take my life.” 

The scream that ripped from your throat was muffled by a large hand over your mouth, Lorcan’s intense gaze looking down upon you as he slowly shook his head. “Do not alert attention to yourself. She cannot know what you are to Fenrys,” he whispered. 

Every nerve in your body was on fire, panic coursing through your veins as you turned to see the male who swore to stay by your side, slowly inching further away. 

You were vaguely aware of your father, his own tears hitting the ground beneath him as he felt the pain of his blood bond being stripped away. Waves of horror knocked the breath from your lungs as Maeve called Aelin to bow, your cousin and Queen whipped before your eyes while no one took action.

Fenrys stood still, frozen under Maeve’s command as your mate could not afford to spare you a glance, leaving you at the mercy of Lorcan’s strong arm holding you back. “Do not make a scene, unless you want to make it worse for Fenrys,” he warned.

Salty tears streaked down your cheeks, your gaze locking with the tawny eyes of your father as he weakly managed his way over to you. Blinding anger coursed through you, confusion at how you could end up in this situation, surrounded by the most feared warriors, all of you forced into a position of waiting as your Queen was placed in an iron sarcophagus.

Fists clenched so hard your nails drew blood from your palms, disgusted with yourself as you allowed Aelin to be taken away so that your mate would be spared. And then the ground fell out from under you when Maeve ordered Fenrys to follow.

Your mate did not so much as spare you a look over his shoulder, but every muscle in his body seemed to strain as he fought against the order to walk away from you, from your father, your new family. 

You bit down hard, Lorcan hissing as your teeth sunk into his fingers, blood dripping from your lips as he released you. You charged after Fenrys, running with no plan other than willing to risk everything for the person who had become more than everything to you.

But once again, broad arms wrapped around your waist as your father held you in his arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” Gavriel whispered, tears streaking down his face as you felt his calm, healing power wash over you, the world fading to black as you lost consciousness.

[pillow-boi]

Who did you choose?

[kirkwallcowboy]

I am yours, as always.

[sun-marie]

It's domestic Fenhawke-loving hours 💜

[delilaeh]

breaking tumblr hiatus just to say i just finished playing all the dragon age games back to back without knowing anything about the series and it has changed my brain chemistry. solas and inquisitor lavellan made me feel a way i haven't felt about a couple since i was 17 years old . i am a new woman. i am HURT. trespasser made me go through the 5 stages of grief I can't believe people have been sitting on that ending for 10 years

[throneofsapphics]

between the heavens and the embers

Fenyrs x f!Reader

Summary: Day 4, “She will die, thinking you never loved her.” With Fenrys

Warnings: terminal illness, discussions of death/death, angst 

kinktober masterlist

Of course Aelin had kept in contact with her, he thought bitterly. Or at least caught wind of what was happening through the city's gossip. After their split, he went through extensive efforts to avoid anywhere she frequented. Nowhere felt safe, and he’d begged Aelin to send him abroad again. 

Y/n, dying, the one he could never quite ‘get over’ as they’d all say. The rest of their court had passed years ago, and he found solace in her shortly after. Still, he left. Maybe it was fear, at the time he thought his own immortality would be a blessing - giving him plenty of time to move on or to find someone new.

“It’s .. it’s nothing about you.” 

“You told me forever,” tears streamed down her face and he hated himself for a moment, hated himself for giving her that kind of hope. 

“I shouldn’t have said that.” He replied tightly, forcing any emotion out of his voice - a neutral mask, perfected over the centuries, slid over his features. 

“Gods” She scoffed, fingers tugging at her hair. He gripped the fabric of his pants, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her hands away, to take them into his own. “Was all of this a lie? All of the times you told me you loved me?” 

He winced at the pure resentment in his voice, a crack appearing in his mask. Still, he was protecting her from the reality of growing old while he would stay young. “I spoke without thinking.” He was digging himself a greater hole, going past the point of return. 

“Leave.” Her voice was cold. “I don’t want to see you again.” He gave her a short nod and turned. He allowed himself to glance back once, but she’d already disappeared inside. 

-

Fenrys debated turning around at least twenty times during the walk to her house, on the outskirts of Orynth. Enough that he shifted and trotted through the trees lining the road - it would do no good to scare the living daylights out of anyone walking by. Things were simpler in his animal form, although the desire to flee was still there, it wasn’t quite as strong. She still lived in the same place as a decade ago. He steeled himself, trying to summon all of his courage as he made it. For Gods sake, he’s charged onto battlefields, fought enemies he was certain he’d lose against, faced the drudgery of foreign courts; this shouldn’t be this difficult. Finally, he arrived at her house. The yard was littered with people he recognized - her family, and he stopped outside the fence. Based on the wicked glares he was receiving, they recognized exactly who he was. 

He didn’t call out or ask, only waited to see what they would do. Even if he wanted to say something, he couldn’t be certain his voice wouldn’t break. A woman disappeared inside and he heard muttered voices, angry rebukes, and then the calm melody of hers - sounding the exact same as she did a decade ago, down to each inflection and pause.

The door swung open and he held his breath. She exited and ushered everyone else back inside, ignoring and shutting down their protests. Curious faces, young and old, peered through the curtains.

She walked with ease for someone dying of a terminal illness, and paused a foot away from him, on the other side of the fence. 

He stood outside of the fence waiting for her, on time for once. He’d promised to take her on a date and held a small bunch of her favorite wildflowers flowers in his hand, ones he’d picked on his way here. She bounded outside with a smile on her face, closing the door behind her. 

“You showed up,” she grinned and almost ran the rest of the way. 

“Did you doubt me?” He teased 

“Is there something you need?” The words were polite, but indifferent and a strained smile was pasted on her face. Mentally he ran through all of the different ways he’d tried to justify his actions fifty years ago. 

“I’m sorry.” 

She raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes. “And?” 

-

She didn’t believe it until she saw the male standing there, on the other side of her fence, just like he had ten years ago. Y/n tried to tamper down the bitterness and resentment, to ‘let it go,’ as everyone told her she should’ve years ago. Still, he’d left with no idea she was pregnant, and any letters she tried to send him were never answered and likely never opened or delivered. There wasn’t a chance or a way to actually tell him, and she debated whether or not to tell him now. Somehow, he’d never caught wind of it and her kids stayed back far enough he couldn’t catch wind of their scents. 

“I regret … my actions.” 

She blinked once, trying to clear her vision and make sure this was real and not some figment of her imagination. 

“Thank you?” Her voice trailed up at the end, uncertain if that’s actually a proper reply or not. Gods, she’d been in several awkward situations over the years but this might top the rest of them. 

She chewed on her bottom lip, debating whether or not to make her confession. She’d raised two beautiful children, at least for the first decade of their lives. As a single mother … she was reluctant to let go of them. 

-

“There’s … people you should meet.” 

His heart dropped and he felt the urge to sprint - to run far away from here. He knew exactly what she meant. She took one glance at him, and turned. Probably testing to see if he would run again but … Fenrys forced himself to stay still, to keep in place while she made her way back to the house. 

She came out a minute later with two children, males and twins. One hand braced each of their shoulders. They couldn’t be older than ten, and he had no doubts they were his. For fucks sake he was a father. Even without scenting their heritage, their features gave it away. They looked just like him and … he swallowed the thought, even centuries later it was still fresh, the memories still too difficult to bring to the forefront of his mind. 

-

“I never spoke ill of you to them, and never let anyone else. If you were wondering. I never let anyone else, either.” He sat next to her on a bench, watching as the two sprinted around the large backyard, chasing each other with wooden swords. It faced the mountains, expanding into a beautiful view of the Staghorns. He could feel the breeze of the wind, and if he closed his eyes, he could smell the pine and snow. 

“You had every right to.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the two children, wincing as one hit the other on the back of the knees. He’d had no idea of what to say to them, how to even interact, but he supposed he’d have people to introduce them to. Gods if he had to ask Rowan for parenting advice, he’d never hear the end of it. 

They sat in silence, and he’d forgotten how nice it is to sit in her presence, how she'd always … steady, for lack of a better word. 

“The healer says they will settle,” y/n’s voice was hoarse now and in his peripheral he spotted her brushing a tear away. “I understand if it’s too much, but would you …” 

“I’ll look after them.” He promised, and without thinking he grasped one of her hands in his own. She didn’t pull away and he squeezed gently before letting go. Her hand fell flat against the wood of the bench, and her fingers flexed, digging in slightly before she returned it to her lap. She didn’t look at him, but a ghost of a smile crossed her face, gone before he could memorize it. The memories of her had grown hazy over the years, but now he wanted to take in every inch of her, commit it all to memory so years from now he could still remember her. Not necessarily out of love, but as a reminder. A reminder of how badly he’d messed up. He owed her that, owed himself that. 

-

“AELIN.” Fenrys roared, pounding on the Queen’s door. He’d returned several hours past sundown, the sky dark and lit only by the moon and several of the city’s inhabitants asleep in their beds. 

“What the fuck?” She cursed, and he heard both her and Rowan moving. He raised his hand to knock again, but the door swung open and a pissed off looking Queen and King consort stood in front of him. Still, if they knew about his kids … that anger would be nothing compared to his. 

“Did you know?” He said through gritted teeth. 

She crossed her arms, propping her wait on one hip. “I did, and I told you.” She said slowly, as if she was talking to a child - taunting him. 

“You never told me.” 

“I told you this morning!” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The other thing.” 

“Just tell us what it is, Fenrys.” Rowan said, his voice low and eyes half-lidded with sleep. That’s a change from the Rowan from centuries ago. If he’d pounded on their door like that, he’d be greeted by a knife to his throat or poised to slip between his ribs. 

“I’m. A. Father.” 

Aelin’s mouth parted, Rowan blinked once, and relief flooded through him that he hadn’t known. 

“Come in,” Rowan stood aside, letting him slip inside the room.

-

Fenrys stood a foot behind his two children, Rowan on his right, Aelin on his left, and brushed a stray tear away as they lowered the casket.  

His mind drifted to what he found the other day. First, he was shocked when her family asked him to help clean things out, but he supposed he was a step or two further away from her, and maybe they assumed it would hurt him less. Regardless, he felt … honored they trusted him with a task like that. 

He fought back tears as he opened the drawers, lifting out the variety of letters crumpled into there and spotted a fresh piece of folded paper, a barely legible scrawl on the top, one word … his name. Apparently her handwriting had never improved over the years. With shaky hands, he unfolded it. 

Fenrys, 

You’re a good male and a good father. 

Take care of our boys. I trust you. 

He blinked back the tears, he’d spent the days since she passed swallowed in a cloud of grief and worry. First hand, he knew how incredible of a mother she was and how the twins loved her. Six months, he’d had six months to watch her and learn but it hadn’t felt like enough and he doubted it ever will. But, y/n having faith in him, even trusting him, made some of the doubts fade.

[pinayelf]

[echoes-sounds]

“I won’t wait for you” is the biggest lie he would ever utter. He would wait, and he is. Years of waiting, pleading and bargaining for a chance to see her again. Sometimes there are no deals to be struck, sometimes there is only the weight of loss and the hope that somehow some way she will find her way home to him.

[fiendsandfangs]

The 2024 Fiends & Fangs Fanwork Exchange blessed us with a trove of monster fanworks. Here's a fic we think you'll love. 💕

when is a monster not a monster (you love him)

by @hazelestelle ※ Ao3: Estelle

Dragon Age ※ Fenris/Male Hawke ※ (1,251 words) ※ Teen

Summary:

Hawke was left behind in the Fade, but he would do anything to come back to Fenris.

✨ Check out this work on Ao3! ✨

[shadowdaddies]

Reunited - Part III

Fenrys x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: After years of working as a spy in Adarlan, you are finally reunited with your cousin, Aelin, as you join the war to reclaim Terrasen and bring peace to Erilea. What you don't expect is to meet your mate in the middle of a war.

A/N: for those whom I told the next parts would be less angsty... that doesn't refer to this one I'm so sorry

Warnings: canon-typical violence, KOA spoilers

Your muscles were heavy from peaceful sleep, a satisfied smile gracing your lips as eyes fluttered open to see Aedion and Gavriel standing at the opposite side of the room from where you lay.

Forcing yourself to sit up, you looked around to find yourself in a tent, piles of blankets and furs draped over where you had been sleeping on the ground.

“She’ll be furious with you,” Aedion whispered, seemingly unaware that you had awoken. “But I thank you,” he ground out, the resistance clear in his tone as he looked to your father. 

Gavriel’s tawny eyes flicked to you, lined with sorrow as memories came rushing back. Your entire body heated with pure rage and fear, nails clawing into the covers of your makeshift bed as you tossed the covers away. 

“You,” you seethed, eyes wide and teeth bared as you stood to face Gavriel. It was Aedion who stepped between you, his eyes showing a vulnerability you had yet to see him reveal in front of your father. 

“I know you are upset. But for once,” he glanced pointedly at Gavriel, “he did the right thing. No good could have come from Maeve knowing that you are Fenrys’s mate.”

Hearing his name unleashed a wave of emotion, a lump catching in your throat as the bond screamed inside of you, longing for your other half. “He’s gone,” you whispered, voice breaking as painful, hopeless thoughts eddied in a whirlpool, threatening to drown you. “I may never truly know my mate, because of you,” you growled the last word, tone piercing Gavriel enough to make him flinch.

Aedion fully stepped in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks, covering your father from your view. “Listen to me. Maeve would have used you to torture him. She would have used you to torture Aelin. Saving him was not an option when he is so close to Maeve. Their blood oath is too strong.”

Your eyes shuttered as the hopeless realization crashed over you like an ocean wave knocking you below the surface. You stepped back, willing your thoughts to calm enough to look at Gavriel’s face, his expression full of guilt and worry. “I swear to you, we will find him. We will free him, if it is the last thing that I do.” He spoke with such conviction, you felt your heart soften, suddenly feeling guilty for how you had spoken to Gavriel.

Before you could find the words to apologize, Gavriel continued. “That is why we are headed north. Aedion leaves for Orynth shortly, but we will be joining Rowan along with Lorcan and Elide. So long as you feel that bond in your chest, we can use it to find Fenrys and Aelin.”

You nodded, shifting into the familiar mindset of a spy as you had lived for so long. “When do we leave?” 

A soft, proud smile graced Aedion’s lips, your brother pulling you in for a hug as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I leave now. I had just come to say goodbye,” he murmured. It was an all too familiar sentiment in your family - the sacrifice of leaving your loved ones in the name of duty. 

“Stay safe. I will see you soon,” you responded, not an encouragement, but an oath - one that you clung to, your chest tight as your brother disappeared out the tent. Gaze flicking to Gavriel, you raised your eyebrows in silent question.

“We leave as soon as Rowan returns from the neighboring town. He and Elide are there looking for information from the locals, and we will decide where to travel from there.” All you could manage was a nod, your emotions still roiling deep within underneath your calm facade. 

You packed in silence, Gavriel’s stare burning into your side as you avoided interaction. You had just finished packing and dismantling your tent when Rowan and Elide returned, their eyes lit with a similar wired determination as your own. 

Pine green eyes locked with yours, an unspoken understanding passing between you and Rowan - that the two of you would allow the world to burn to ash before you would allow it to take your mates.

“We’re leaving for Doranelle,” Rowan announced, brooking no room for questions before he helped load your and Elide’s bags onto horses. Giving Rowan a sharp nod, you followed suit, gathering necessities for the journey. 

The dying embers of the campfire the only trace of your existence in the forest, your group headed for Doranelle, Rowan letting out a cry as he shifted into hawk form, soaring above as you journeyed below. The day passed mostly in silence, tensions thick between you and your father, and Elide and Lorcan. 

At your request, Elide explained in brief detail why you were headed towards one of Maeve’s strongholds. She and Rowan had come across one of Maeve’s soldiers at an inn, but the shudder that passed through her when you asked for more told you all that you needed to know about how Rowan acquired that information, and you let the conversation drop.

The sun had long since set when fatigue weighed heavy on your bones, head aching from lack of food and rest. Gavriel sensed it, his too-knowing eyes scanning your sluggish movements, the limp that Elide was trying to hide. 

“We will stop here for the night,” he spoke, low voice not allowing any arguments, not that you could form any. You practically crashed into the ground where you stood at his words, Elide settling next to you as Lorcan gathered kindling. 

There remained little talk among the group. You couldn’t speak for others, but you knew that if you tried to speak, emotions would burst forth like water through a broken dam, the carefully maintained mask of strength you were wearing to be shattered into pieces. Gavriel, Lorcan, and Elide mumbled their good nights, while you and Rowan sat by the fire. 

The twisting, flickering flames held your attention in a captivating dance, the only distraction you could find from the constant agony you felt throughout your body, the unbearable weight of your mate’s pain echoing in each fiber of your soul.

You dared a glance at Rowan, his sharp eyes moving from the fire towards you. You supposed the fire meant something different to him - a reminder of his other half, the closest thing he had to her in this moment. It was a different kind of pain, but one that you could understand as the others did not.

“Do you feel her, too?” you managed, voice cracking through the strained whisper. Rowan’s brow dipped, confusion flickering across his features before understanding settled. 

“No,” he choked, and you worried that you had said the wrong thing. “No, I cannot feel her through the bond. I think whatever  But I know she is there, she is alive. That much I can feel.” A shaky breath escaped you, eyes lining with silver as you curled into your body, gaze focused back on the flames in front of you.

“Can you? Feel him?” Rowan pressed, voice soft as the night breeze. Your eyes squeezed shut, the only hope you had to keep those tears from falling, but one escaped, cold warm against your chilled skin as it traced your cheek.

“Yes,” you breathed, a sob building in your lungs as you gasped for air. “Yes, I feel everything. I feel his pain, I feel his loneliness, I-“

Words were stolen from your lungs as your chest seized, inexplicable pain, grief, bringing you to your knees. You were vaguely aware of Rowan’s presence, a warm hand on your back as sobs wracked your body. Wave after wave of grief and shame barreled into you, body shaking with the force of emotions being thrust upon you.

“Breathe,” Rowan murmured, his hand on your back a grounding comfort as the emotions faded, a distinct numbness filling your senses. Emptiness consumed your being, the only reminder that you were still alive the flames in front of you. 

Silver hair illuminated in the firelight, moving into your vision as Rowan kneeled in front of you. “Can you say... what happened?” he breathed, fear in his eyes as he dared the question.

“He’s not... he isn’t dead,” you managed, the knot in your chest loosening slightly as Rowan visibly relaxed. “Something terrible happened, Rowan. If what I felt was only a small part of what Fenrys is feeling...” Whatever hold you had on your own emotions was lost in that moment, tears falling freely as you cried.

Another hand landed on your shoulder, and you looked up through blurry eyes to see your father watching you, heartbreak written on his features. On instinct, you crashed into him, throwing your arms around Gavriel’s neck, breathing in his comforting scent. 

Conversations were happening in the background - Lorcan and Elide apparently also wakened by your cries - but you held onto your father, finding a small piece of solace in having him here.

Gavriel’s hand lifted, a canteen handed to him which he brought to your hands. “Here, drink this,” he murmured, tawny eyes observing carefully as your shaky hands gripped the vessel. Forcing small sips of water down your throat, breathing came easier, and you noticed Rowan, Lorcan, and Elide all standing nearby. 

“I’m not going to stay the night,” Rowan said, moving back towards where you sat. “If you want to rest, Gavriel will stay with you and Elide. But if you-“

“I’m going with you,” you interrupted. Rowan merely nodded, as thought your response was exactly what he expected. Lorcan was already moving, packing and loading supplies as Rowan’s power suffocated the fire.

You walked in line with Gavriel, leaves and sticks crunching under your boots as owls hooted against the still-darkened sky. “I can feel him, still,” you murmured, eyes downcast at your scuffed, muddied shoes. “I feel him, but it’s different than before. He’s... hollow. It’s like this numbness, and I can’t reach his end of the bond, so I don’t know if he can feel me.” 

Your eyes burned with tears you were too drained to shed when Gavriel grabbed your hand, turning you to stop and look up at him. “Do not give up. I know it hurts, I know what Maeve is capable of. But please, be better than me. Fight for Fenrys. He deserves that. You deserve that. And we will find him, and Aelin.”

Pushing up on your toes, you placed a kiss to your father’s cheek, your eyes never leaving his as you spoke. “You did the right thing. I have already mourned a childhood without you, but I’ve been allowed to know you now, and I am so thankful for a father as selfless as you, who was willing to sacrifice seeing his children grow to keep us safe. You didn’t give up, and I will not either.”

You both turned, heads snapping forward towards the road ahead as Gavriel cleared his throat, eyes shining with emotion as you continued the rest of your walk in silence.

By the time you arrived in Doranelle, your feet hurt like never before, entire body sore from long travels and lack of sleep. Your group hid in the trees just outside the main road through town. Elide turned to you, a fire in her eyes that lit one in your chest. 

“The males are too recognizable, so you will all stay out here and keep a low profile while I go into town. I’m going to see if anyone has information about Cairn’s location, because we know he’s with Aelin and Fenrys.”

You shook your head. “I’m coming with you. You’re not going alone into town, and it would be suspicious if you were by yourself.” You looked around, Lorcan giving you a grateful smile while Gavriel opened his mouth as if to argue. Before he could say anything, you took Elide’s hand and set off towards town.

Doranelle was bustling, people shopping and selling throughout the streets, men calling for your attention as the two of you walked at a brisk pace, eyes and ears open for any sign of danger.

Multiple groups of people shuffled in the same direction, your gaze following their movements towards a pub that appeared to be full of travelers and locals alike. “That’s where we should go,” you murmured to Elide, her dark eyes joining yours as she studied the tavern’s entrance.

Releasing your hand, Elide led the way into the building, instructing you to take a seat wherever you could find one as she took the lead. You found a small booth, thankful for the weight off your feet and even the rancid beer a barmaid slid your way.

It was pure entertainment, a respite from the hellish reality you had been living lately, as you watched Elide put on a show of the helpless maiden. Batting her long lashes, giving shy smiles, she wrung any information she could from the tavern’s patrons while you kept watch.

Everyone seemed taken by her story, the heartbroken lover of Maeve’s general, except for one female. She lounged at one of the tables, chestnut brown eyes watching Elide with a keen, quiet interest. And then Elide mentioned Cairn.

A hush fell over the room, the mood instantly sobering at the mention of the newest member of Maeve’s cadre. Expressions turned cold, even sour as people closed themselves off to Elide’s charm. They definitely knew something, and as you watched Elide excuse herself to the washroom, you caught the striking female with chestnut eyes from before stand up quickly, dark brown hair flowing around her as she turned and followed Elide down the hall.

You were quick behind her, dagger sheathed discreetly at your side. Using your blade, you wedged open the door to the washroom to find Elide wide-eyed, tension thick in the air as she and the female stared at each other. 

Your blade quickly found the female’s neck, your foot kicking the door shut behind you. “Who are you, and what do you know?” you questioned, voice lethally calm.

The female didn’t struggle, her demeanor relaxed as she spoke. “My name is Essar. I mean no harm - I simply wanted to warn your friend to stay away from Cairn. But it appears she is better protected than I believed.” 

Her voice remained calm as she dared to turn towards you, unbothered at how your blade dug further into her skin. “Why do you look for Cairn, truly?”

Your gaze hardened on Essar, assessing the trustworthiness of this new character. “That would depend. What is he to you?” you asked, releasing her so slightly from your hold.

A scoff escaped her lips, nearly a slight laugh as though your question was absurd. “He is nothing to me. And Maeve is less than nothing,” she ground out, venom lacing her tone. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips at her spite. 

“We have business to attend to regarding Cairn,” you murmured, gaze flicking towards the door to check it was closed. 

A knowing gleam shone in Essar’s eyes. “You have Gavriel’s eyes,” she whispered, clearing her throat as she studied you and Elide. “Cairn is at the camp just north of town. He was seen there this morning.”

It was an effort to not let your surprise show, but somehow you knew that you could trust Essar. Hope sprang in your chest, as though the bond was confirming Fenrys was close. “Thank you,” you murmured, to Essar, hand reaching for the doorknob as you gestured for Elide to follow.

“Give them Hell,” Essar said, chin raised proudly. You gave her a final nod of thanks before slipping out the door. Elide could barely keep up with your pace as you raced through town, back to the edge of the woods where the males waited. Now that you knew where Fenrys was, nothing could hold you back from finding him.

You were both short of breath, struggling to explain all that Essar had shared with you at the tavern. “I believe her,” you said, looking to Rowan and Gavriel for validation. But it was Lorcan whose eyes grew soft as you spoke of the female you had met, the other males looking to Lorcan for only a brief moment before Rowan cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

“We can trust her,” he said. “I’ll take to the skies. You follow my lead - we’ll walk around town to avoid running into Maeve’s soldiers for now.”

Heart pounding in your chest, you watched as Rowan launched into the air, your group quietly following the path of the hawk as it led you around the edge of town. Sounds of soldiers running drills, sparring, blacksmiths at work all filled your ears as rows and rows of tents came into view. 

Breath caught in your lungs, the twist of hope and fear electric as it shot through your body. A warm hand wrapped around yours, and you looked down as Gavriel gave it a comforting squeeze. “I am with you,” he whispered.

Words evaded you, but you managed to nod to your father - a silent acknowledgment: "I am with you, too."

Scanning the grounds of the camp, you searched for a way in. There were too many tents, too many places Fenrys and Aelin could be. But your thoughts were interrupted by the bloody cry of a hawk, and before your mind could catch up to your body, you found yourself running, sword drawn, towards the center of camp where Rowan flew.

Soldiers charged you, your adrenaline pumping as you cut them down one by one. Red flooded your gaze as you saw a shell of a female, weighed in familiar iron shackles as she stumbled out of a tent on thin legs. 

Blood pounded in your ears, the faint sound of Lorcan yelling at your side all that you could register as Aelin ran towards you. You couldn’t stop the flow of tears as you locked eyes with your cousin through the iron mask she wore, heart somehow shattered and whole at the sight of her, alive yet broken.

“Fenrys,” she choked. “Fenrys!” Aelin’s voice cried. She whipped around like a wild animal caught in a trap, yelling at Rowan and Lorcan, pleading for them to find your mate. 

You rose to chase after him, but Rowan’s pleading look settled that rage within you - he would find your mate while you protected his. And so you watched him run through the camp with Lorcan, a beautiful storm of chaos as the warriors partnered seamlessly in battle. 

The clanking of chains pulled you from your daze, Aelin scratching at her binds. “Take it off take it off take it OFF,” she screamed, voice hoarse as she chanted violently. Rowan appeared by her side, his hands working as they tried to find an opening on the mask. Rowan.

Your eyes went wild, an unexplainable ache carving itself into your chest as you stood, spinning clumsily while you searched for any sign of Fenrys. The sight of white fur on the ground, Gavriel leaning over the wolf who lay, covered in blood and barely breathing snapped something within you. 

As your father gave you a helpless look, the world cleaved in two, as though half of your soul was ripped from your chest. Collapsing to the ground, your hand wove in Fenrys’s fur as onyx eyes gazed at you, unblinking. 

There was no room in your heart for more tears at this point. Everything had been taken from you - so you lay there, watching the last hope you had for a future, for love, as he faded away.

You didn’t head the commotion behind you as Rowan managed to break the Wyrd marks locking Aelin’s chains, how she crawled weakly to Fenrys’s side across from you. The words, “live, Fenrys. Live,” echoed through your head, Aelin’s voice like a helpless prayer.

And then he blinked. Gold flecks shone in his eyes, chest rising slowly as your mate released a soft whine. Your heart burst with joy, love pouring from your end of the bond as you were finally able to reach Fenrys.

Your hand reached out to him just as he shifted into his human form, long blonde curls fallen across his beautiful face as he stared at you. “Is this real?” he rasped, and you nodded, a broken laugh escaping as you sat up, pulling Fenrys’s head into your lap as his hands found yours, holding onto them like a lifeline.

“He’s gone,” Fenrys whispered, his gaze distant. You felt it then - the hollow feeling, the numbness you had felt through the bond. “Connall,” he murmured, eyes finding yours as a tear rolled down his cheek, and you understood. Fenrys had lost a part of himself - Maeve had taken so much from your mate.

“I will kill her,” you vowed. 

Fenrys’s hand lifted to brush your cheek. “You were my hope. The only strength I found to keep going.” 

Taking his hand from your cheek, you pressed a kiss to his palm. Flames danced in your eyes. “For what she did to you, to Connall, to Aelin. She will burn.”

Author’s Note: I took a break from this series and don’t know if a part 4 will happen. Sorry to disappoint anyone, but there are no immediate plans for this series to continue.

tag list: @hellodarling1357 @sassyslytherinshai

[allyjoe755]

These Small Hours

fenrys x reader

A/N: Chosen by polls. If you would like another poll-chosen story, like/reblog/comment below

Word Count: 513

Warnings: slight PTSD.

o-o-o

You woke up to screams.

Big, horrible, gasping shrieks in the middle of the night.

Your eyes snapped open as adrenaline filled your chest, quickly spreading to the rest of your body.

Oh, Gods, please, no—

Lying beside you, Fenrys’ eyes were screwed shut, his cheeks wet with tears, his body dampened by sweat. His fingers raked across the sheets of the bed, his chest heaving with large breaths.

In your chest, your heart tore ever so slightly.

You placed a hand on Fenrys’ shoulder, your thumb moving back and forth.

“Fenrys,” you began softly. “Fenrys, it’s alright.” 

You scooted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his torso.

“Fenrys, it’s just a dream. Fenrys.”

Even in his sleep, he shuffled to wrap an arm around you. It helped. His breathing was still quick and ragged, but slowly and surely, it was slowing. His cries were softer now. They would fade soon enough, you knew.

It helped to not wake him up during times like these. You had learned that the hard way, when you, not having experienced this before, had in a panic shaken him awake– causing his panic to grow, small injuries to occur, for him to lose substantial sleep for nearly a week.

You had apologized profusely for weeks after. Fenrys had only said that it was his fault the nightmares happened in the first place.

But it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t, and it had taken months to convince him of that. Even now, you were sure there were times when he still doubted. That was alright. You knew that it would take time.

Just like this. It had taken you so many times, so many sleepless nights, so many tears, to realize how to best support Fenrys when nights like these came.

So, for now, you just let your head rest on Fenrys’ chest. His cries had ended. You listened to his heartbeat slow back to an even, steady, calm rhythm. Your own body calmed down from its abrupt awakening as Fenrys breathed in and out, in and out.

Perhaps, in the morning, he would tell you what he had dreamt– the terrors that had visited him in the night. There were days he would, and days he wouldn’t. You didn’t push him.

He would heal in his own time. For now, you would walk alongside him through it.

In his sleep, Fenrys ran his hand down your arm until he found your hand. He squeezed it.

“I’m here,” you whispered back. You weren’t sure, if through his sleep, he heard you. In fact, you were quite positive that he couldn’t. Even still, you spoke the words– said them out loud, even if it was just to remind yourself that you weren’t going anywhere.

The man beside you was broken, and bruised, but it didn’t make him any less whole. It didn’t make him any less loved.

You pressed a kiss to the skin above Fenrys’ heart.

It didn’t make him any less capable of love.

“I’m here,” you repeated, before allowing yourself to fall back into sleep.

[kurogalaxy14]

When you're playing Dragon Age 2 for the first time, and Varric calls Fenris "angsty porcupine"... I couldn't stop thinking about it all day so here's a Fenripine. Porcuris? Angsty. Porcupine.

[dragonagecompanions]

DA2 crew reacting to Hawke who stops caring? Maybe after the death of Leandra they just stop showing any kind of emotion? Not even rage or sadness it's as if they're made tranquil but without the need to be cut off from the fade instead, it's their emotions that are cut off. When they finally ask Hawke they simply shrug and respond with

"Why do I care? Everyone leaves me or they want something from me only to stab me in the back, why should I care anymore?"

Just, just pure angst heartbreak something that will hurt I BEG FOR THE HURT JUICE!

WELCOME TO THE JUICE BAR! HERE THERE BE ANGST!

Varric: He gets it. For most of the time, amongst the odd band of friends he has made in the City of Chains, Varric puts on a very convincing show as the devil may care rogue with the world at his fingers and no weight on his shoulders.

But on the nights when he is not walking through Darktown killing...well, anyone who crossed their path really, it was hard to maintain the mask. When the last drunken drunken warbler had left or past out or otherwise left the Hang Man silent in the wee hours even his tavern rooms couldn't keep the echoes at bay. Brother, father, mother, ancestral culture and society; all of it gone before he was even respectably middle age. He'd lost Orzammar before his first breathe, and no matter how in the Merchant Guild he climbed no surfacer would ever be anything less than a casteless outcast.

Normally that didn't bother him, but on the heaviest nights...He can't bring back everything Hawke lost, and isn't fool enough to try. But he can be a friend, a port in the storm. Once Hawke's mindset is known Kirkwall's resident story teller makes it his mission to be a constant bulwark for his friend. He has let them flounder for too long-- dwarves might not be great at swimming, but Varric will not let Hawke drown.

Bethany: It takes a long time for her own bitterness, at a life of endless hunger and exhaustion and nightmares of a Grey Warden that she would never have chosen for herself, to fade enough for her sibling's silence to truly register. Their mother's death had been a terrible blow, a severing of the last parental bond, but it had also heralded a silence from Kirkwall that...

Well, that she had come to take for granted. Varric still wrote like clockwork, his letters a comforting and humorous glance into the city that had been home so briefly, but after more than a year the remaining Hawke sibling looks up to realize she has had not a word in months. Her last letter was so bitter, penned in grief and anger and without thought for the child who actually had to see and bury Leandra, but now those caustic words eat at her own mind.

Distance has bled off the pain, and the missive that goes to the City of Chains is almost meek in comparison to her fiery words. But the letter she receives makes silence preferable-- she can feel her sibling's desolate apathy through the short penned lines, and for once she aches for the cramped paradise of Gamlen's hovel when their family was mostly whole.

They do not write again, and in her shame and sorrow she does not ask them to. A Grey Warden is meant to leave all their former life behind, and yet somehow her older sibling has managed to cut loose of those bonds-- and Bethany finds herself clinging to a life that she cannot save.

Anders: Justice roils, unsettled and uneasy at the terrible symmetry. There is no sunburst scar to mark the sundering of mind and fade, no judgement rendered to murder life and emotion, and yet tranquility would almost be preferable to the empty aching sorrow. Hawke had always been a vibrant soul, built for purpose and life and determined to make their way in the world no matter the cost. But this...

There had been a time when Anders had been that alone. The loss of friends, of family, of the chance to have a life of his own. Even the freedom of the circles had still left him chained to another institution, no matter how preferable the Grey Wardens might have been. Isolation was a like an unhealing wound, pulling at the body and soul until there was nothing left to fight it. A sepsis of the soul, where no surgeon's blade could cut it free.

There had been no true isolation since Justice had come to him; it feels like a betrayal to admit he missed it.

And oh Anders wants to comfort his friend, tries to be there and sets aside (as much as his fracturing mental state will allow) the conversation of mages rights for other conversation. Brings food and wine and tries to rekindle that spark that had always been in Hawke's soul.

But his plans for the Chantry -and the looming betrayal that must carve them apart once again- keeps a pall of guilt over those efforts. It seems crueler somehow -infinitely more so if they are in a romantic relationshiip-to build up only to destroy, and so knowing he cannot help one of his first true friends in the city is another burden to lay against the cost of mage freedom on the scales of Justice.

Isabela: At first she brushes it off as a bad day, nothing that a trip to the Hanged Man and the Blooming Rose can't clear right up. She's had a few of her own, after all, and knows the liberal application of lover and libation to be a perfect solution for gloomy moods. Friend or lover, she knows how to raise the spirits.

But when that doesn't work, when her efforts are shot down again and again in that same terrible, dry tone, something distant and awful howls in the back of her mind. As the captain of a ship she is good at watching for storms and reefs, for the dangerous shoals that can render a ship little more than kindling or the hurricanes that turn even the greatest ports into unsafe harbors. There are no maps to nagivate here, no sounding charts or sextant readings to guide her to calmer waters.

She has looked death and danger in the eye with laughter and a ready blade, but the dull and distant apathy in her friends eyes shakes her like no nautical challenge ever has. They tetter on the crest of a wave, and for all that she might scramble for control the trough might be too much for them to weather. Emotions have never been her strong suite, commitment not in her wheelhouse. Isabela is shallow and vain by her own admission, made for the life at sea and not meant to drop anchor forever.

But when she takes a heading, she takes it true. It will be work, work the captain is not at all sure she is capable of, but in all her long life Isabela has never abandoned a crew member gone overboard. And even if Hawke is determined to struggle against joy and life and recovery, she will not let them drown.

Aveline: It is so, so tempting to lay pain for pain. To compare the loss of home and husband and life against the inevitable (if untimely) loss of parent, the grief of lost siblings and broken friendships to the struggle of proving herself to the guard. Who are they cut themselves off from those who love them, when no one is untouched by loss?

But the simple and terrible truth is that pain is a terrible equalizer, and lays low all who come before it. Aveline has fought for her position as a guardsman, and then guard captain, and is proud of her duty. But she is also too well aware that the burdens laid at her desk are nothing like that of a Champion of a city, and that Kirkwall has for years asked far more of Hawke than it has given in return. Her friend has never waivered, never failed in their devotion to a city that never stops taking.

Her own rise in station comes of both her work and theirs, and with a pang Aveline is suddenly unsure if she has ever let Hawke know how deeply grateful she has been for their friendship-- from that first day in Ferelden onward.

It is not in her nature to look back and regret on mistakes that cannot be fixed, or dwell too much on old sorrows. With Donnell's help she can only move forward as a better friend, a better companion. To make sure Hawke knows without question that they are loved, and to guard them and their future as she does the city they will build it in.

Fenris: Everything he touches, it seems, must be laid low.

There is no question that his social skills lack a certain...polish, nor that on the whole Fenris and society are mostly estranged. He in content to live in his decaying mansion, to make a life devoid of company when not traipsing through Kirkwall with a ragtag bunch of friends. He does not seek out company often, is not comfortable with the idea of the vulnerability that friendship requires with more than a handful of people.

It does not occur to him until Hawke's empty and apathetic words that those actions and attitudes might hurt more than himself. Hawke has been a better friend and compatriot than Fenris ever dared to hope for, certainly better than he had the right to ask for, but his actions have not been equal to that friendship. He has let them suffer alone, or at least mostly unsupported, and that is...

It hurts like the Fog Warriors hurt, needless betrayal when something better might have been.

There is a cold blessing in the memories of a life enslaved being ripped away by the lyrium, even if the experiences after were hardly kindness itself. But Hawke must live with it all, the pain and betrayal and the crushing isolation that comes with duty. Fenris has chosen to be alone, at least, in his self imposed solitude.

Hawke has no one.

It is a bitter vintage of guilt, particularly for a romanced Fenris who has done more than most to cause such pain. But he has not come so far in life without being tenacious, and commitment to a goal is keen to success. If he must finally leave the mansion behind, to spend everyday with his friend until that sorrow is as distant as his life in Tevinter, than it is a sacrifice worth making.

He will bring the good wine--it stands up well to despair.

Carver: There is a sort of inherent loss of self, when you have a twin. For all that Bethany and he had been different people, it is at times unavoidable that you be lumped together by even your family. It is rarely malicious but often very annoying, and was in some ways the catalyst for how much he envied his older sibling's singular triumphs and failures. There was no one to share that spotlight with, and it burned at something deep within Carver's soul.

The bitter grief that came when Bethany was gone, gone and leaving him with no one to lock step with, did not lend itself to mending the hard feelings for his older sibling. While not so cruel as Leandra to lay blame at the eldest Hawke child for his sister's death, her absence creates a void that neither can ever truly fill.

Time heals some wounds, of course, but distance and duty can cauterize what has not yet healed. Leaving his life behind to take the oath of a Grey Warden is perhaps the most freeing thing he has ever done, and if it is easier than most to carve away his past life...he is well named for it. That is not to say that the news of his mothers death does not pain him, but his new brothers and sisters a balm in a way family has not been in the past.

It is cold comfort when Varric's letter, with the uncertain request to write to his sibling in an attempt to ease their pain, makes them uncomfortably aware that years have passed without correspondence. Somewhere between the Deep Roads and his duties the oldest Hawke sibling ceased to be a daily thought for him, and Carver is ashamed to realize that he was relieved when the letters stopped. He does write a few stilted lines, unsurprised to receive no reply, and tells himself he can do no more.

If his father's face haunts his dreams with imagined disappointment and grief for months after, let that be penance enough.

Merrill: If Clan Sabrae still lives she will find it difficult to relate, but if Keeper Marethari's actions have cost her so much more than Merrill is painfully aware of the pain of total isolation. Hawke does not even have the eluvian to compensate their struggles, and for a time the Dalish mage is unsure how to help.

So she simply listens. Even if it is apathetic silence, or quiet sorrow, or even howling rage, Merrill stays. Her friend has never abandoned her, not in all the time she has known Hawke. Their life has been a bitter one, with duty and grief and helpless loss too mich a companion. Nothing she can do will fix the past, but she can prove to them with the consistency and patience of her presence that they are not alone.

The introduction of baked goods to that listening and support is also, in her experience and delight, a helpful tool. Among the Dalish shared food is the foundation of family and community, and in time she will use it to bring hope back to her friend.

Creators, let her succeed.

-Mod Fereldone

[sulky-valkyrie]

fenris/anders/nate: post-da2, nate is sent by the warden to find anders, and finally finds fenders. bonus points for unrequited emotions and belligerent (temporarily) unresolved sexual tension between all three of them.

Happy Friday, Vee! For @dadrunkwriting and a sequel to this.

Velanna and Sigrun had helped them out of the city through the cunning tactic of covering Anders with a cloak big enough for the Arishok and just walking through the gates.  Velanna glared haughtily at anyone who tried to question them and snapped, “Warden business,” and, shockingly, it worked.  The Templars were in shambles at best, and the guard had their hands full trying to organize putting out all the fires in the city, so stopping two obvious foreigners, even with one of the Champion’s known associates, was the least of their worries.

They camped just inside a cave, and Anders woke Fenris when the light of dawn was barely peeking through the entrance.  “We should go.”

Fenris glanced at Velanna, sitting ramrod straight and frowning.  “Where?”

“Away.”  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Just… away.”

“Aedan will –” Velanna started.

“No.”  Anders shook his head as the blue faded from his eyes.  “I – we appreciate it, but no.”

She shrugged sourly and watched them finish packing.  “He'll be pissed.”

“That's on him.”  Anders pulled his bag over his shoulder.  “Tell Sigrun I'm sorry.”

They set out.  Fenris kept a wary eye on the surroundings as they walked.  Whatever initiative Anders had displayed at camp faded away almost immediately once they were back on the road, and Anders seemed in a daze as soon as he'd picked a direction.  Whether it was because he was still surprised he’d lived through it, or because the loss of so many lives, however necessary, still pained him, Fenris couldn’t tell.  

A week passed, then two.  Every sundown, Fenris led him off the path as he hunted for a more secure spot to camp, and every dawn, Anders woke him with tea and hardtack, then they set off again.  If pressed, he’d make conversation, but otherwise, he simply walked, lost in thought, or regret, or both.  It was unnerving for Anders to be so quiet for so long, but he’d been a man of action and snap decisions most of his life; Fenris could shoulder that burden for the time being while he drifted.

It was sometime in the third week that the instincts of a life spent as a fugitive made the back of his neck tingle.  He suggested they take a short break, and, with a slight frown of confusion, Anders agreed.  As he stopped to pull out a waterskin, Fenris went down to the river's edge, then shimmied his way up a tree, careful not to rustle the branches.  Once he reached the top, he peered through the leaves, scanning the way behind them for anything out of the ordinary.

There.  A lone traveler.  Not particularly unordinary, really, unless one considered the way they moved.  Everything about their pace was purposeful, but cautious.  Fenris had seen it enough to know that this person was a hunter, and most likely hunting them.  He slid down the tree as quickly as he dared, then headed back to Anders.

"We're being followed."

"I know," Anders sighed.  "Wardens again.  Well, one Warden, at least."

Fenris pursed his lips in aggravation.  "How long have you known?"

“Two days.”

“Two days?” he asked in annoyance.  “When were you going to tell me?”

Anders shrugged dully.  

Fenris tried again.  Sigrun and Velanna hadn't meant them harm, but could the same be said if the rest?   “Should we wait?” 

“May as well; they’ll catch up regardless, and we’ll be less tired.”  Anders moved to the side of the path, waved a hand to cast a spell that reshaped the ground up into a large faintly chair-like lump, then sat down.  It had been a surprise the first time Fenris had seen him use Dalish magic, but now it was part of their new normal of trekking through the wilds of the Marches.  Merrill had always taken care of such things like leaching the water from the ground and smoothing it out or occasionally encouraging a tree to move a bit to the left.  She was better at it than Anders; he had yet to move a tree, and his dirt furniture was a bit lumpy, but it still made their campsites far more comfortable than they would be otherwise.  He pulled his sword off his back, settled in next to him, and wrapped an arm around his waist.    

The sun was low in the sky when a lone figure appeared through the patchy tree cover.  In the pink light of the sunset, the colors of his armor looked more red and purple than blue and grey, but he was unmistakably a Warden.  And one that Fenris had met before.  He squeezed Anders’ hand.  “It’s Nathaniel.”

“Shit.”  Anders’ voice was heavy.  “Of course it is.”

Fenris frowned.  Their last parting had been bittersweet, but amicable.  Hadn’t it?  “Did something happen?  Before he left last time?”  

He shook his head.  “Not a chance Vel or Siggy reported back that quickly.  So either Aedan knew I’d leave anyway or Nate’s deserted too.  Don’t know which is worse.  For him or us.”

“We shall have to find out.”

°°°☆☆☆°°°

Nathaniel joined them wordlessly a few hours later.  Anders seemed more at ease with him around, a fact that Fenris was both grateful for and irked by.  Was it because he was simply a fellow Warden?  He didn’t think so, but it was hard to gauge.  Anders had been too little like himself since Meredith’s call for Annulment to compare his response to Nathaniel compared to Sigrun and Velanna.

It didn’t make sense.  No matter how intense or torrid their affair before Anders had fled to Kirkwall, it had lasted less than a year.  Fenris had to know him better by now, had to be more adept at comforting and caring for him.  

But he’d never known just the man now, had he?  Anders had been possessed for years by the time they’d had a civil conversation.  What parts of Anders had he lost that only Nate knew of?  What hopes and dreams had been pushed aside by Justice?  For that matter, what parts of Justice had been scattered in the maelstrom of Anders’ fears?  Did Nathaniel know those as well?

The more Anders relaxed, the more Fenris couldn’t.  He watched them both, watched the way Nathaniel stared and opened his mouth to say something, then turned away, watched Anders’ eyes droop, either in guilt or relief.  Was he glad Nathaniel had nothing to say or preparing for the moment he would?  

Much like Fenris himself, Nathaniel chose his words carefully, and, if he wasn’t sure of the correct ones, often chose silence over imprecise conversation.  Any other time, Fenris would’ve been glad for it, but after days and days of Anders’ own unnatural quietude, of being trapped with little company but his own thoughts, he hated it.  

He missed his mage’s inane chatter.  He missed the regretful sighs into his hair as the sunlight filtered through broken windows of this mansion, waking them both and signaling a new day and new challenges.  He missed holding him.

Did Anders miss him at all?  He’d been ready to die for his cause, to lose everything to give mages everywhere anything.  Had he been so wrapped up in his martyrdom he’d already sacrificed their love before he’d even lit the fuse?  Was Fenris simply a burden to him now?  A loose end of string on a tapestry that he’d thought he’d burned?

Was that why he was so lost?  Was that why Nathaniel made him smile that soft shy smile that Fenris hadn’t seen in weeks?  

He picked up his sword and paced around the camp, ignoring their curious looks.  He had nowhere to escape to, but simply sitting there watching them have those unspoken Warden conversations hurt too much.  He’d lost him, and he’d accept defeat gracefully, if begrudgingly.

The moons crossed half the sky before Nate finally put his thoughts together.

“It shouldn’t have been you.”

[faitherinhicks]

Angsty Dragon Age 2 comic part 1, starring Fenris and Hawke. Part 2 will go up tomorrow. >>>> Okay, so I romanced Fenris during my first DA2 playthrough as a female warrior Hawke. Unfortunately because I was pro mage and anti slaver (because I'm not a monster), I couldn't swing his approval or rivalry one way or the other, so when the final confrontation in the Gallows occurred, I couldn't convince him to join me to help the mages. It was super tragic! I'm still crying over it. These freaking Bioware games have destroyed my life, lol.

[throneofsapphics]

get up off the roof

Fenrys x f!Reader 

Summary: “There’s one person who could probably get through to her.” Rowan spoke carefully as if he was treading on dangerous water with his mate.

“They haven’t spoken in weeks.” She snapped. You felt bile rise in your throat, and decided eavesdropping was a very bad idea, so you fled silently back down the hall. 

Word Count: ~2k 

Warnings: grief, death of a parent, angst-ish, comfort if you squint

A/N: I should be working on my kinktober list, but this is what came out instead. 

Your breaths were heavy as you stood on the roof, your bare toes curling over the edge. The shingles were rough under your feet, and it took much of your focus to keep yourself balanced on the slope. Your heels dug in, and you let yourself lean back just enough to keep you from falling off the edge. It was a scorching summer day, and the rough material burned the soles of your feet, the sun heating through your clothes and leaving an uncomfortable warmth on your skin. 

It was only two stories up, if it didn’t work you’d still survive - maybe a bit bruised and with a few broken bones, but you were frustrated enough to get desperate. Ever since … that … your magic had been stifled, and you could barely reach it. Losing both of your parents a week of each other, the ones who taught you to love your magic and heritage in secret. Who provided you with unconditional support and love. Your magic felt intertwined with their memory, and every time you tried to reach for it, it shrunk further back as if the grief was too strong. It had been nearly a month, and it was slowly driving you insane. 

If anything, a situation that appears to be life threatening might bring it out of you. 

You thought you heard someone calling your name, far off in the distance, but shoved it away. Chances are nobody was there, you were always careful with the times you let yourself suffer, let your emotions reign free. 

Then, you were falling through the air as your heels pushed off the roof. Your body curled on instinct, and you hit the gods-damned bush. It hadn’t worked. 

“Are you insane?” You heard Aelin’s yell from the doorway, as she sprinted out towards the courtyard. Someone had been there. You cursed audibly, not at the pain but at the explanation you’d have to give now, and the pity that would follow. Pity made you feel as if you were shriveling inside, your entire body recoiling.

She gripped under your elbow, tugging you up to stand. Her eyes quickly traced your body, noting the small scratch on your elbow with a frown. Besides that, you were completely fine. Physically. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Despite the expletive, her voice was a bit softer. 

“I was ..” pressure built around your throat, choking you and stopping any more words from coming out. You couldn’t figure out how to explain it, even if you wanted to. Aelin tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Let’s get you inside.”

She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding tightly like you might disappear at any moment. Could you keep her from telling anyone else? Especially a specific someone who would lose their damn mind, despite them having no claim to you, and no desire to. Aelin would probably feel obligated as both your friend and theirs. You leaned your head against her shoulder with a sigh. If she wanted to, there was nothing you could do about it. 

A crow cawed in the distance and you felt a shudder run down your spine.  

She bundled you inside, and right off to her rooms where she started making tea. At least she kept it in her rooms and didn’t force you down to the kitchens. You probably looked an absolute mess, you could feel the leaves tangled in your hair and knew the bags under your eyes were likely a deep purple by now. 

You scented him moments before he entered, and let out a low curse. Aelin turned to you in alarm, and quickly walked towards the door but he’d flung it open before you could react. 

He stood in the doorway for a few moments, and you slowly turned to face him, despite your best efforts. 

“Take a tumble?” He raised his brows. 

“Get out.” Aelin snapped, shoving his chest back. He slowly backed out of the door, and you saw his eyes widen as the Queen slammed the door in his face. 

“Y/n,” Aelin’s voice was quiet, and drew your attention away from the heavy oak door. She was in front of you, shoving a warm cup into her hands. She crouched in front of you, silently healing the scrape on your elbow. Aelin sighed as she looked at you, and you had the sudden urge to throw the hot liquid in her face. But, that would be a very ungrateful thing to do. And assaulting the Queen of your country, even if she was a friend, was a bad idea. The doorknob rattled, and you heard a pounding on the door. Pine and snow, you registered that. Aelin rolled her eyes and shot you an apologetic look. 

She cracked it open just enough to speak to Rowan in hushed tones, low enough even your Fae hearing couldn’t pick up on it. 

Instead, you studied the mug in your hands, remembering a grounding technique. Warm from the liquid inside, the base was white, a lord of the north painted on one side. A small chip on the handle. You ran your thumb over it, it was a small dip in the porcelain, insignificant enough you never would’ve noticed it if you hadn’t been looking. But, you’d learned over the years that if you studied anything too long you would notice every little thing that was wrong. People and objects alike.  

“What were you trying to do?” Aelin drew you out of your reverie. 

The words, you could get just enough words out to tell her. Out of anyone, she might understand. “Get my magic back.” 

“There’s better ways to -”

You cut her off, “other ways haven’t worked.” You said harshly. 

Aelin let out a slow breath and studied you. As always, you felt like she tore through every damn layer of you - seeing right to the core. You were too alike in some ways, and could always call each other out on bullshit. “Try and let it come back on it’s own.” 

You’d tried. You’d fucking tried but it was miserable to not be able to access that part of yourself, the part that had disappeared for ten damned years and you didn’t want to spend a day longer without it. 

“Do you think talking about them would help?” She settled down next to you on the couch, legs crossed under her and turned to face you. 

You chewed on your bottom lip. You’d avoided thinking or talking about them as much as possible, figuring that would shove the pain and grief away and eventually it would disappear on its own. “Not yet.” 

You felt her disappointment, and ignored that too. 

-

“I don’t know how to help her.” Your best friend's soft voice floated through the open door. 

This was a conversation you weren’t meant to overhear, you knew that for certain. Besides, you didn’t need help, you just needed time. 

“There’s one person who could probably get through to her.” Rowan spoke carefully as if he was treading on dangerous water with his mate.

“They haven’t spoken in weeks.” She snapped. You felt bile rise in your throat, and decided eavesdropping was a very bad idea, so you fled silently back down the hall. 

-

Maybe it was punishment, or her form of protecting you but Aelin dragging you to state meetings made your head want to explode. If she could, she’d probably try to stay in your room with you. Either her or Rowan had been trailing after you constantly. Like two overbearing and fussy shadows. 

“I’m not a risk to myself.” You finally snapped one night. 

“Really?” Aelin matched your pitch and tone. “Because I watched my best friend jump off the gods-damned roof.” 

“You killed the gods.” 

“And if you died I’d bring you back to kill you myself.” She was almost yelling at this point. 

“Awe, you do love me.” You teased her, de-escalating and dodging the earlier topic. 

Aelin shot a long suffering look towards Rowan, who only looked on amusedly. 

“You could talk to him.” The bastard said. Aelin shot him a nasty look this time as you froze in place. 

“Rowan,” she growled at him, before looking back to you apologetically. 

“Or he could talk to me.” You said stiffly. 

“Because that’s worked so well, hasn’t it?” 

You forgot how much of an asshole he can be, and told him so. He only said to come up with more creative names for him before you stormed out of the room. It was a small mercy that they let you have your tantrum in peace, staying back in their rooms. If they had followed you this time you probably would have thrown something at them. 

You were stewing in your anger and barely paying attention to where you were going as your subconscious guided you on muscle-memory. Right to your roof. You didn’t stand at the edge this time, in fact you sat several feet behind, on a flatter area and far back enough any busy bodies would assume you’re just relaxing. You carefully lowered yourself down on your back to stare up at the stars. A crow landed next to you, peering at you with uncanny eyes. 

“Hello,” you muttered. They seemed to follow you everywhere and you couldn’t decide if it was an omen or not. To your surprise, the animal cawed in response. “I’m going to assume that's a friendly greeting.” 

The bird ruffled its feathers, still staring at you. “If I didn’t know better,” you continued, “I’d assume you’re a Fae or Shifter. 

You heard a snort coming from a few feet away and the animal took off with a screech. There’s only one person who can sneak up on you like that. 

“If I said to fuck off would you actually leave?” You didn’t bother looking at him. 

“Probably not.” The air shifted around you, and when you turned your head he was laying next to you, only a foot or so away. If you reached your arm out you could touch him. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Do I need a reason to come see you?” He let out an edged chuckle, and you turned your head back to the night sky, searching for the lord of the north. 

“If I say yes will you be offended?” 

“So many questions.” He tutted. That is a yes, then. “They’re worried.” Your chest tightened and blood heated. Anger rolled from you in waves. They had no right to go spreading your business, telling whoever the hell they wanted …

“I can see it on their faces, the way they’re acting.” He continued, probably sensing the emotions rising in you like a dangerous wave, battering at the dams of your already fragile self control. “I haven’t asked any questions.” 

In your grief, he pulled further away from you. At a time when you needed him the most, he disappeared. You couldn’t figure out why the hell he decided to show up now, now that you were inches away from rock bottom. 

“Where have you been?” You tried not to sound accusatory but failed miserably. 

For once, he didn’t have a snarky response or reply to it. Instead, he reached for you. You didn’t move, but didn’t fight him as he tugged your hand into his. Your friend, the friend that had started to turn into more, just weeks before everything happened. 

“I’m sorry.” His thumb ran across your knuckles, and his hand tightened around yours, interlacing your fingers. 

“Y/n,” you heard a shout from your balcony. “Get off the roof!” Aelin was screaming, nearly at the top of her lungs. You should’ve known eventually. 

“You can join us or you can leave.” Fenrys yelled back at her, saving you from having to do it. 

A quiet, “oh,” came from below you, and you heard your balcony door shut. 

“My savior,” you teased, the words coming out naturally. 

“Glad to be of service.” His grin shone through his words, and when you turned the moon cast the perfect light over his face, highlighting all of his features. Onyx eyes captured your own, and his hair seemed to glow in the light. Like a bright light calling you in. You squeezed his hand once. 

“My knight in shining armor.”