#for carver + to make fenris' life harder

[wildfairies]

dragon age worldstates

titles & quotes from ulysses by alfred, lord tennyson

A NEWER WORLD

"Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world."

Nalori Tabris* | Warrior: Champion | ♡ Alistair

*Remembered as the Hero of Ferelden, though she would sharply correct anyone who said so that the true hero was her brother Talisen, a fellow Warden who gave his life during the Siege of Denerim.

Rosamond Hawke | Rogue: Thief | ♡ Fenris

Sabine Trevelyan | Mage: Rift Mage | ♡ Iron Bull

Portia Ingellvar | Mage: Death Caller | ♡ Lucanis

A HUNGRY HEART

"I am become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known;"

Kelden Aeducan | Warrior: Berserker | ♡ Zevran

Rosamond Hawke | Rogue: Thief | ♡ Fenris

Ivuna Lavellan | Rogue: Tempest | ♡ Josephine

Francesca de Riva | Rogue: Duelist | ♡ Emmrich

A SINKING STAR

"And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought."

Talisen Tabris* | Mage: Arcane Warrior | ♡ Morrigan

*Remembered as the Hero of Ferelden, though he was known to smile sadly at the honorific, modestly insisting the true hero was his sister Nalori-- a fellow Warden who perished in the Battle of Denerim.

Rosamond Hawke | Mage: Blood Mage | ♡ Fenris

Salshira Lavellan | Mage: Necromancer | ♡ Solas

Ghestlin Laidir | Mage: Spellblade | ♡ Davrin

[butchvamp]

continuing my da2 replay after veilguard and the thing is. right. dragon age has never been “good” it has always been kinda shitty with bad writing. but the characters and roleplaying opportunities really gave the player a lot to work with, and ultimately made the games enjoyable. and veilguard has the same weaknesses as every other game as well as the same potential to be salvaged by successful character writing…. but then it fucks it. it lacks any substance, it lacks both the character interactions and roleplay that would typically make the flaws more tolerable and the setting has been completely scrubbed and sanitized into something boring and generic. and even then it still manages to be the final horrible culmination of all of the racist writing and worldbuilding that the creators have refused to address or course-correct, despite years of criticism and feedback— it makes it harder to excuse this shit in 2024.

but dragon age 2 also has a lot of rough spots, it has the infamous tranquil solution which makes me recoil every time it’s mentioned, you can ask fenris why he didn’t “just leave” danarius sooner (there’s a lot of bad dialogue in this vein with all of the companions tbh) the game even has its own version of harding with aveline and sebastian if you recruit him (though imo they are still more Interesting than harding lol) both characters who uphold and perpetuate harmful ideas in game & in real life that are presented as the Good companions, versus everyone else in the game who is violently punished for their “radical” ideas… like these are the exact same problems i have with veilguard right now. but somehow dragon age 2 feels more successful to me… and i do think it’s entirely because of the roleplayability with hawke and the friendship/rivalry system, plus the variations with carver & bethany, as well as a lot more time spent actually cultivating relationships with a compelling cast of characters. and of course none of these characters are perfect, fenris and anders specifically suffer from the classic dragon age “both sidesisms” which makes them the scapegoats at times just to show how “bad” their ideas are and that they’re just as “bad” as their oppressors (lol) but idk i do like that the characters are all messy and that they actually have their own opinions, even if they are annoying. something about it all just feels so much more genuine than veilguard…. maybe it’s just my own nostalgia lol. i mean, i still like both games, i’m literally playing both right now, but i find something about da2 more compelling overall despite the similar flaws in both.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Hey so you've posted a bit about replaying DA and I wanted to know if you have a canon run through

I do! I'm currently replaying through my canon run right now [with a few deviations here and there] because every time I finish a run, some time passes before I'm like, ".........I miss them." It makes doing an alternate run harder, too.

For DAO, I play as a rogue lady Tabris named Rosalie, or Rose. Dual-wielding ranger and dualist. Her most used party dynamic is Alistair/Morrigan/Zevran. She named the mabari Griffon after the tales of Grey Wardens and their griffons. Rose romanced Alistair, kept him a warden and made Anora queen. She considers Morrigan one of her closest friends until Morrigan reveals her true intentions for coming with them. I've written about that whole thing before. Honestly, as far as companions go, Rose becomes close friends with most of them... except Wynne, they tend to butt heads in a lot of ways.

Rose didn't want to become a warden and thinks most of their rules and secrets are bullshit. Duncan's excuse for not coming to help her and the other elven women Vaughan took is a driving force for her to defy that "we can't get involved" rule as much as she can during and post-blight. She sided with the mages in Kinloch and with their help saved Connor, made Bhelen king of Orzammar, and settled things between the Dalish and the werewolves peacefully by convincing Zathrian to end the curse. She executed Loghain at the Landsmeet since, y'know... he sold city elves, nearly including her father, to Tevinter slavers to fund his war so... in her eyes, he doesn't get to live after that.

This playthrough I did make a save to reject Morrigan's dark ritual to see what happens when the warden makes the ultimate sacrifice and it's the most unsatisfying ending. It's such a, "No no noooo we didn't deserve this! After everything we went through! Just for it to end like that??" hopeless feeling... which was then fixed when I went back and made my canon choice of begrudgingly accepting the deal [even though it mostly goes against Rose's character but I'm weak and selfish and want her and Alistair to live].

In DA2, I play as a male mage Hawke named Edgar, or Ed. Force mage and blood mage. His most used party dynamic is Carver/Merrill/Anders until Carver goes to the Grey Wardens, then it's Isabela/Merrill/Anders. He's mostly purple in personality, but occasionally dips into blue, and I can count the number of times he's gone red on one hand. He named his mabari Fleabag after Malcolm bought the pup from a traveling merchant who failed to mention he was flea ridden. Several baths later, the mabari was finally flea free but Ed decided he should never live it down and named him Fleabag.

Ed maxes out the friendships with everyone [yes, including Carver, Ed tries so damn hard with him] except Aveline, he maxes out her rivalry. They all side with him and the mages in the end. He romanced Anders. I once did a run where I romanced Fenris with Ed and even though I liked it, the whole playthrough felt wrong because romancing Anders is, like... a fundamental part of Ed's story now... Even though they break up in the end.

I've done all three options across different playthroughs when it comes to Anders; I've spared him, I've killed him, and I've told him to leave. My canon choice is to tell him to leave, and then let him join my party later after we've sided with the mages. It's hard to explain without writing a full essay, but Ed and Anders are pretty much life partners at this point. Even if it's no longer romantic because a huge amount of trust was broken, even if they never get back together in that regard, even if Anders will now be on the run for the rest of his life, whether or not Ed agrees with him [he does and he doesn't, it's complicated] like... Ed loves him and he'll always love him, y'know? He won't abandon him even when everyone tells him he should.....but then DAI happened uhhh

Finally for DAI, I play a lady mage Lavellan named Ashalle, or Ashlaen, or just Ash. She's a knight-enchanter who mostly does storm magic. I'd say DAI is the game where I have a pretty even party use that I rotate between; Cassandra/Varric/Vivienne, Solas/Sera/Blackwall, The Iron Bull/Dorian/Cole. She sides with the mages in Redcliffe and left Hawke in the fade [sorry Ed, and sorry Anders... and sorry Carver... and Varric]. When it came to picking a ruler for Orlais, she figured all options sucked but went with Celene and Briala. Ash drank from the well, and then disbanded the inquisition in Trespasser.

I dislike how DAI just kinda plops your inquisitor into existence with only a small paragraph explaining why they were at the conclave; I wish it had a DAO approach so that's what I did for my inquisitor. Before I start the DAI playthrough, I boot up DAO. Before she was Ashalle Lavellan, she was a circle mage named Ashlaen Surana who escaped with Jowan after he lied to her about being a blood mage. In the ten years pre-DAI, she lost Jowan. In her grief, joined the Dalish, changed her name, and eventually ended up at the conclave. It just adds a lot more meat and spice to the choices and interactions with companions and advisors since she keeps that part of her backstory a secret. After all, she helped a blood mage and then was accused of being one herself before fleeing; she doesn't want the inquisition to know that. All of her crafted staves are named after Jowan while her crafted robes are usually named after her conflicting identities and pieces of her past, too..... Oh, speaking of past, she romanced Cullen. Because of course.

With the context of all this, it becomes them reuniting after they may or may not have had a thing going on in the circle, but then she escaped and he believed she was actually a blood mage for ten years. Cullen sees her like "Ah. Yes. You. Whom I haven't met. Hope they're right about you. We've lost a lot of people to get you here. Glad you survived." when internally he's screaming "I know who you are, those tattoos fool me not! Why are you here?? To torment ME specifically??" Then there's Ash who takes a little longer to recognize him, and when she does, it solidifies that she needs to run after this because he knows who she is and why she fled, that's not good, she's not going back to the circle after all this is done.

But y'know... they work it out. Eventually.

That's my canon run through of all three games. I keep trying to talk myself into doing a full alternate canon run, but the only game I've successfully done a different route in is DAI with my male rogue Tristan Trevelyan whose backstory was that he's a pro-mage ex-templar. That was fun to see how different things play out, but I haven't managed it for the other two.

I'd like to play DAO as a more cutthroat warden who, unlike Rose, won't go out of their way to do kind things; they'll do what they deem necessary. I'd like to do a lady warrior Hawke run with Bethany as the surviving sibling, and I've tried before but every time I hit a point where I'm like ".....I miss Carver so much" and abandon the run. Like there's always something that makes me abandon the run. I almost abandoned Tristan's run, too, but somehow I pushed through and got invested. I dunno. One day I'll put on my big girl pants and just do it.

[lesetoilesfous]

“I’m sorry, I was under the impression that you wanted to live” + handers = tears ;_; Happy Friday!

Oooooh this was the BEST prompt, thank you so much!!!!!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Handers

Characters: Anders, Garrett Hawke

Tags: immediately post Chantry explosion, suicidal impulses, frank discussion of grief and discrimination, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Rating: Mature

“If you want to kill me for this, I won’t stop you.” 

Everything is on fire. The Kirkwall sky is bloody with heat and flames that lick smoke up into the firmament like some terrible beast from Calenhad’s day. There’s screaming, and an awful cacophony of metal on metal and stone, and softer than that the slick squelch and spray of viscera. Hawke had left one home burning once. He wonders how it is that he found his way into another one.

Anders is as still and pale as some terminal invalid, peacefully awaiting their restful end. It’s jarring, against the tumult of the night, as if he is somehow separate to it, cut from a different cloth to that which Hawke and the rest of the city are made of. There’s a light wind, utterly oblivious to the chaos, and it pulls a loose strand of hair past Anders’ ear. He’s going grey, Hawke notes, distantly: glitters of silver woven between the red and blonde which shine in the dancing firelight. 

He doesn’t look scared.

Hawke feels heat rising in the back of his mind, quick and red as fresh blood. “I’m sorry, I was under the impression you wanted to live.”

For the first time since breaking formation to confront the Knight Commander herself, Anders’ facade cracks, a comma of a frown wrinkling his brow. He opens his mouth, but Hawke goes on, striding forward to pace in front of him because he has to do something with the energy bunching in his muscles and he doesn’t trust himself to do anything else. His voice bounces against the broken stone buildings around them like thunder, and behind him Dog is barking. He doesn’t stop. 

“I was under the, perhaps idiotic impression, that I made you happy.” Hawke blinks, and his eyes sting, and he tells himself it’s the smoke. When he turns back to Anders, he can’t quite look at his face. “I thought - and I know, I know, some thick Fereldan dog lord, what the fuck was I thinking - but I thought, I really thought, that you actually wanted me. Wanted this.” Hawke gestures briefly, explosively to the burning buildings around them. “I guess not.”

Anders is really frowning now, though he makes no move to stand or take his staff. “Garrett, this isn’t about y-”

“Isn’t it?” Hawke’s voice pitches up with his incredulity so sharply it hurts, and he grimaces, dragging a hand down over his beard hard enough to feel the bruising press of his fingers against his jaw. There are tears running down his cheeks now. It’s the smoke. “I thought you trusted me. I thought you felt - Maker, safe? Void, Carver was right, I’ve always been thicker than a fucking genlock.” 

Anders does stand, now, and Fenris moves, tattoos burning white and strange as lightning against the smoking city. Dog growls, and Fenris falters, even as Hawke looks up to meet his eyes. Fenris purses his lips, but stops. Anders’ staff is still resting against the block of stone on which he’d been sitting, like the spear in a warrior’s grave.

“Garrett, this burden isn’t yours to bear - “

“But I thought you were!” Hawke roars, and glares when his voice breaks as if his lover had ever been fooled by his pretension at bravado. Anders’ narrow jaw tightens, and he steps forward, grabbing Hawke’s forearms with a strength that belies his slender build. 

“I was. Garrett, listen to me,” Anders’ hands are squeezing Hawke’s arms tightly enough to hurt, and his grip doesn’t loosen until Hawke meets his eyes. They’re dark and brown in the strange twilight of the burning city, and his face is thick with ginger freckles. “You can kill me, if you want. But I won’t die with you believing I didn’t want you, or trust you, or love you, with every ounce of everything I am and ever have been. I love you, Garrett Hawke, more than every star in the sky. And I’ll die happy, knowing that.”

Hawke tries without much effort to pull away, and doesn’t fight the sob that rips its way out of his throat, grimacing as more tears run down his cheeks. “Then why do you think I could kill you?” He looks at Anders, now, who’s become abruptly very still, and presses closer, fingers curling uselessly where his arms are still trapped in Anders’ grasp. “I can’t - I’ve lost everyone. I’ve lost everything. I can’t survive losing you, too. Don’t ask me to do that. Please.”

Far off, on the streets of Kirkwall, there’s the sound of screaming, and below that the guttural, twisted roar of monsters. But beneath the smouldering ruins of the Chantry, arms going numb in Anders’ fingers, Hawke thinks he might as well be standing on the moon. Anders’ grip loosens, a little, his expression caught halfway between surprise and frustration, the way it freezes when he’s confronted with a particularly challenging remedy. “I thought - I didn’t think - I thought it would be easier this way.”

Hawke laughs, rough and aching. “Yeah, well. Don’t know if anyone told you, but I’m not famous for taking the easy way out.”

Anders’ mouth curls up at one corner into the shadow of a small, humourless smile. “No, I suppose you’re not.”

He lets go of Hawke’s arms, then, and turns away, face falling behind the same stone mask of impassivity he’d worn before, and Hawke’s stomach lurches. He sways forward, catching Anders’ hand. Anders doesn’t turn back to look at him. In the wind and the explosion, clumps of hair have pulled free of his hair tie, and now they conceal his face in curtains of dirty gold. Hawke tries, once, and fails, to speak past the thickness in his throat. His fingers tighten around Anders’ thin wrist.

“Anders, please. Maker damn me to the Void if he must, please, don’t take yourself away from me.”

Anders still isn’t looking at him. The rest of their friends are silent, expressions uncharacteristically grim. Dog is looking between Anders and Hawke, and after a moment she sits and whines, frightened. When Anders speaks, he does it so quietly that Hawke has to strain to hear him over the burning city. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. I won’t do this to you.”

Hawke scowls, and pulls on Anders’ hand. Anders resists him. “Do what?” Hawke pulls again, harder this time, and Anders stumbles backward, snarling as he turns to face him. Hawke returns the expression, “Do I get a say in this decision? Or are you going to make it for me?”

“You’ll be a criminal, Garrett! You’ll be hunted for the rest of your life. We both will.” Anders hair pulls back from his face, and in the bloody light of the setting sun creeping between clouds of ash, it looks as if he’s burning. 

“So?” Hawke throws up a free hand, clutching Anders in the other as if he’s the only thing holding him onto solid earth. “Been there, done that.”

“Not like this.” Anders’ teeth are bared with the furious grief of the confession, and Hawke can see now the tear tracks in the sweat and ash on his cheeks. “You’ve never been hated like this. I won’t do that to you. I won’t let them hate you.”

Something gives way in Hawke’s chest. Pulling Anders’ closer isn’t difficult; Anders is strong, but Hawke has been learning how to fight with his hands since he was old enough to hold a knife, and he’s never had the luxury of fire in his fingertips. Hawke catches Anders’ shoulder with his other hand, and then moves his hand up to the back of Anders’ neck, holding him still when Anders tries to pull away, squeezing his eyes shut. “I will. I’ll tear the Grand Cathedral down brick by brick. I’ll set the fucking world on fire. I’ll make them hate me.”

Anders shakes his head, but he isn’t trying to pull away any more, just crying, silent and eerily still. When he speaks his voice is a rough whisper. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what this is like. I never wanted to do this to you.”

Hawke moves his hand from the back of Anders’ neck to his chin, cupping it between his forefinger and thumb and lifting his head. He waits until Anders opens his eyes. “Tough shit. It’s already done. That ship sailed six years ago and I don’t know any pirate quick enough to capture her.” Hawke stops, and hesitates, and looks into Anders’ eyes. He presses a rough, clumsy kiss to his lover’s forehead. “You’re my heart, Anders. Don’t make me live without my heart.”

Anders chokes, and laughs, and then his free hand is coming up to clasp Hawke’s cheek and the back of his ear and pull him close for a kiss. Their lips are salty with tears, their breath stained with smoke. It doesn’t matter. It feels like coming up for air. Hawke shuts his eyes, and for half a heartbeat, the burning city and the screams, the templars and the monsters, Meredith and Orsino, all of them twist and disappear into the oblivion behind his eyelids, and there is only Anders and the scrape of his stubble and the flicker of his clever tongue.

Anders pulls back, and his breath scrapes against Hawke’s nose and lips, and Hawke holds onto him like a drowning man on the open sea. “It’s not going to be easy, you know.”

Hawke laughs, and slides his fingers into Anders’ sweat-damp hair, cupping the back of his head. “Haven’t you heard? Nothing ever is.”

[giantsreach]

part of having written carver since like. 2013/14 is that i can never remember which topics i’ve posted meta on but i’m pretty sure i haven’t discussed his banter with fenris in-depth on this blog yet.

i think something that rubs me the wrong way about the way carver and fenris often interact in fan work is that there tends to be an underlying and fundamental misunderstanding about why carver approaches fenris in the manner he does. i’ve seen a lot of carver talking out of his ass to fenris for no reason other than a ) he thinks he knows better, and/or b ) his overly critical eye wants to fault-find. + he’s annoying or smth to that effect. 🙄

these interpretations tend to neglect the actual driving force behind carver interacting with fenris in the first place, and that’s that carver has had little exposure to other warriors. apart from his time in king cailin’s army, he was peerless ( literally ) in his field, and only interacted with his fellow swordspeople when they passed through town via the imperial highway. 

now, there is aveline, of course, but the writing makes it clear that aveline takes on the role of yet another older sibling ( or family of a similar, authoritative position ) in his life, and as such, doesn’t quite qualify as a peer in the traditional sense.

this likely isn’t the most flattering way of phrasing it, but carver wants friends. people who he can relate to, who share his interests and background, who find him as compelling as he finds them. carver may seem prickly or sullen in act i ( and he certainly is at times ), but he’s also experiencing two-prongs of isolation:

     1 ) cultural, as a fereldan refugee in a city-state that doesn’t try to hide its hatred of foreign asylum-seekers, and      2 ) mundane, as a displaced young man who has never quite fit in at home nor in any village they've settled in, and who has recently lost the family member closest to him, and who watches his surviving sibling pick up new companions left and right as if it’s not at all difficult.

cut to fenris, who is a consummate swordsman. and while carver is initially on edge because he's under the impression fenris could pose a threat to hawke, once the tension is dispelled, he's far from opposed to fenris's presence. if anything, carver is eager for his approval. fenris is, aside from aveline, the only warrior carver gets to spend any considerable amount of time with, and he's singular in his skill and ability. it's plain to see why someone like carver, starved for peers, would want to establish some kind of rapport with someone as exemplary as fenris.

the problem is, naturally, that carver — nineteen and having never learned to read socialize properly, due in equal parts to growing up sheltered as well as having poor self-confidence — cannot stop himself from saying shit that is so mind-blowingly stupid, that it is a wonder fenris was as forbearing as he was. i'm talking about:

Carver: So... this master of yours wants your markings back? Skin and all? Fenris: So his hunters told me. Unwillingly. Carver: So why not cover them up? Wouldn't that make you harder to find? Fenris: Let them come. I am not one to hide. Carver: Still, if it were me— Fenris: It's not. ─────── Carver: So you've really never thought of hiding from those hunters? Fenris: To what end? Carver: So you could, I don't know, have a life? Fenris: What life do you have? There are no hunters after you at all.

i feel like it should be obvious why these banters are in bad taste, so i won’t go into detail to lambaste carver over his blatant ignorance. the dialogue is proof itself, especially considering how little of fenris’s experience carver ( or anyone else for that matter ) can truly comprehend. 

what i will do, true to form, is explain that no, carver did not just pull that suggestion, careless as it was, out of his ass. while hawke may or may not do their best to lay low as an apostate, potentially choosing to engage then-knight-captain cullen over the unjust treatment of mages depending on player discretion, carver has internalized how malcolm guided the family. his father taught them to keep their heads down and be prepared to hit the road in case the circle caught scent of them? then that must be the best way to approach it. emotional neglect unfortunately primed carver to idealize and adopt malcolm's choices and general philosophy. this carries over even to legacy, where, regardless of carver's current character arc, carver will agree that malcolm was correct to keep secrets.

so there's fenris, right, who carver believes is in a position similar to that which the hawkes have been in. carver, attempting to help ( as he is wont to do ), wants to share what had worked for them in attaining a semblance of normalcy, not realizing or considering that that is not fenris's foremost goal. hiding is not a one-size fix-all solution, but carver hasn't expanded his horizons well enough to grasp that fully yet.

then there's largest contributors to my secondhand embarrassment in da2:

Carver: You're very different from other elves. Fenris: Oh? You know them all? Carver: No. I just... you look different. There's no denying that. Fenris: It is what I am. And unlike the problems you claim to have, I really did have no choice. Carver: Do we know anyone who isn't brooding every hour of the day? Fenris: Like attracts like, it seems. ─────── Carver: You know, Fenris, I have a tattoo. Fenris: You have a what? Carver: A tattoo. A lot of us got them before Ostagar. It's a Mabari. For strength. Fenris: Does it curse you with the ability to reach into a man and tear out his insides? Carver: Uh. I can make it bark. Fenris: Please don't.

i’ll start with the second one first. at its heart, the tattoo banter hearkens back to the fact carver wants to feel like he has something in common with someone. yes, it is cringe. but it’s also misguidedly sweet, and on top of that, it’s something carver also tries to do with merrill, who carver arguably has the friendliest dynamic with out of hawke’s crew. 

Carver: Your people came a long way Merrill, but I like to think that we have Ferelden in common. Merrill: I never saw Lothering. Did you walk as much as we did? Probably more, you didn't start with halla. Our ship stunk. Carver: Your ship? Merrill: There was something foul in the hold. I can still smell it. Carver: Oh, well, that must have been unpleasant. Merrill: It was. Did I miss something dirty again? Carver: No.

speaking of parallels, the “you’re very different from other elves” dialogue mirrors this one with merrill:

Carver: So, you're not like a lot of other girls. Merrill: No, I'm an elf. Carver: Right. Alright then. Merrill: Oh, did I miss something dirty? Carver: What? No! It wasn't dirty. It wasn't anything.

yes, i took 42069 points of psychic damage from reading that too. but the main takeaway from this is that carver is trying, poorly, to make the two people he thinks he could be friends with feel like they’re special. ( you know, like how carver wishes he was. lol. ) to disastrous results. but i think it’s more than worth mentioning that the intent behind his conversation-making is never once condescending. 

and it’s not like carver lacks self-awareness, either. after he becomes a warden and returns to the party for mark of the assassin, he admits he lacked polish.

Aveline: I'm glad you found a place with the Wardens. Carver: Well, it's not the city guard, but it'll do. Aveline: Carver... it wasn't the place for you. Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I?

Carver: So, we're lost. Varric: Just like old times. Carver: Maker, I hope not. I was an ass. Varric: (laughs) Fair comment, Junior. All right, let's get this done.

and specifically to fenris:

Carver: Orlesians. Can't build a hallway without turning it into a maze. Fenris: Keep going. I'm sure your training will kick in any moment. Carver: Still don't like me? I've tried to change. Fenris: You have. Now you're dangerous. Let's move.

i don’t know how to end this nearly 1.5k meta, so tl;dr i guess

[misscricket]

Canders

Oh @stark-illerbase, let me take you on a journey...

Anders and Carver don’t like each other in Act 1 of Dragon Age II. That’s putting it mildly. Carver is a young man probably suffering from PTSD, grieving over his twin sister and struggling with the new life his brother and mother are pursuing. He strongly identifies as a Fereldan, hence the tattoo he got at Ostagar being a mabari, and he sees his mother trying to recapture the Amell name and legacy as almost a rejection of the Hawke lifestyle back in Lothering. As to the PTSD, not only did he see his beloved Twin sister get crushed by an Ogre right in front of his eyes, he was also at the Battle of Ostagar. He had to be dragged away from the battle by his fellow soldiers and told to run for it, or else he would have stayed, and fought and died right there, so determined was he to protect his country and family.

“ Said he wanted to protect his family. That someone had to, because his father had died and, well you know how the Champion turned out. Carver took it real serious...” (World of Thedas Vol 2)

Along with a love of using a sword, this was Carver’s motivation for signing up with the army, the Blight was threatening his home, and his family, and he saw it as his duty to protect them.

“The more ground we lost, the harder he swung that plank of a sword of his. He was shouting that we had to win, that it was to keep our homes safe. I swear he was crying when we finally tackled him, but damned if I’ll hold that against him. It took three of us to drag him to cover. I had to slap him back to his senses, to make him see that killing five, or ten, more ‘spawn wouldn’t matter. The wall was on us, and dying there wasn’t going to help anyone. I said if he wanted to do his family good, he’d get them safe. “  (World of Thedas Vol 2)

So he’s a bit of a prickleberry.

And then in comes Anders. Instantly he’s hyper focused on Carver’s brother, because Carver’s brother is a Mage. And Maker have mercy Carver has been hearing about the Mage plight for years. His whole bloody life actually. 

He acutely understands the realities of living with an Apostate mage family, from the perspective of someone inside the family unit who doesn’t have magic himself. He couldn’t be too good at anything, or excel, because it drew attention. He wasn’t a Mage himself, but he too lived as an Apostate, in fear of drawing the Templars gaze.

And then Anders says, 

Anders: I'm sorry about your sister. She sounds like a special girl. 

Carver: Why? Because she was a mage? 

Anders:  (If Hawke is male) Your brother says she had a good heart. Being on the run never made her bitter. (If Hawke is female) Your other sister says she was a good person. That she never turned down a chance to help people. 

Carver: Yes, yes. I'm sure the Chantry's got a shrine with her portrait on it. 

Anders: I was trying to be nice. 

Carver: Stick to surly. It works for you

And then this one

Anders: You don't like me, Carver? 

Carver: I don't like you. 

Anders: That's unfortunate. Hating someone just because they're a mage is a shameful thing. 

Carver: I don't hate you because you're a mage. I hate you because you won't shut up about it. 

Carver: Oppression this, templars that. I'd heard enough long before you. 

Anders: Maybe it's time you put some thought into it.

To Anders, Carver looks like the sullen, angry, bitter brother of two Mages, resentful of their powers or perhaps, even, hating them because of them.

This isn’t the case. Carver bitches and moans about his siblings, but most of his gripes are familiar to anyone who has an older or over achieving sibling.

When there is a legitimate threat, Carver immediately steps between Hawke and danger. When Fenris snarls about Mages, Carver, unprompted, says.

Carver: You have a problem with my brother/sister, you have a problem with me.

It’s instantly protective, and it’s far from the only incident in the game. He continually worries whenever Hawke talks to Templars, or stirs up Mage trouble, not because he hates Mages but because he’s worried for Hawke.

Anders however can no longer seem to see greys, it’s all black and white for him. Either you’re for Mages and then you want wholescale freedom and down the Templar order, or you’re a Mage hater, and as good as a Templar.

Carver’s stance on Magic is actually one of the most subtle and nuanced in the game, if not the whole series. He understands the dangers on a level most people, who haven’t lived with unfettered magic, can’t understand. But he also understands the joys and love of those with magic, and doesn’t believe locking them up in the Circle to be the right thing, despite his potential choice to be a Templar.

So Carver and Anders...

Enemies to Lovers

The fit this trope beautifully. Even in Act 1 with surly Carver and judgy Anders. But throw in Carver either being a Templar, the thing Anders hates most in the world, or him being a Grey Warden, the organisation Anders rejected. Oh the potential for angry arguments and heated kisses.

They are not so ideologically opposed that I think they couldn’t understand each other I think, and I think if they actually hashed it out together they’d actually find a lot of common ground. It’s just whether they could get there without the prickles throwing them off course is the question...and no Carver isn’t the only prickly one.

Templar Carver

Carver joins the Templar order for two reasons.

1. His brother/sister hasn’t returned from the Deep Roads with the rest of the expedition. Bartrand has likely told him they’re all dead. That leaves him and his mother alone in the world, and Carver can’t get work. The Guards won’t have him because Aveline told them not to, and the other options are mercenary jobs or the Templars. He no longer has any mage siblings to worry about being caught, and he doesn’t have to disclose that he had Mages in his family if he doesn’t want to.

2. His namesake was a Templar. I think giving him his piece of his identity makes Carver interested in the order in a  different way. Up until then they’ve kind of been the boogeymen of the Hawke children’s lives. ‘Be good or a Templar will get you’. But his father named him after a Templar, ‘skill thoughtfully applied’. There was some value to that path. And you can’t tell me that Carver wasn’t, in many ways, his family’s personal Templar. If Bethany or Hawke had fallen...would another Mage have been able to stand against them? They would have needed a swordsman. Carver.

Anders thinks Carver has joined the Templars out of spite, or hatred. But there is a wonderful array of fiction you can have with Anders and the Order and the fact they are continually trying to hunt Anders down. Carver wouldn’t stand for it, if one of his brothers companions was threatened, and he certainly wouldn’t want him to be hurt, killed or made Tranquil, which would have been his fate should Meredith have gotten her hands on him.

Grey Warden Carver

As for the Grey!Warden path, Carver thrives as a Warden, he blossoms under that structure and purpose where Anders did not. But they have the connection of Anders having been the one to beg Stroud to take him, to put him through the Joining.

We also know that Carver knows Nathaniel, who was friends with Anders during Awakening. This likely means he knows a number of the Ferelden Wardens, and you can’t tell me they wouldn’t be curious about Anders.

Alternate Universes ideas I have toyed with writing

Tevinter - Mage Healer who refuses to use Blood Magic and the son of a powerful Mage house who doesn’t have magic himself.

Special Agents AU - Agent Hawke and Anders have a turbulent relationship because the boy always comes back hurt.

Coffee Shop AU - Anders is an overworked and exhausted Doctor. Carver is his caffeine supplier.

Werewolf AU - Alpha Carver learns that being dominant doesn’t always mean barking orders, and Omega Anders learns that brooding wolves are definitely better lovers.

Mirror Universe - What it says on the box...darkfic.

Angel AU - Carver is Anders’ guardian Angel, and he grumbles about it a lot. He also keeps losing his feathers everytime he swears, and it makes Anders laugh at him.

and many many more.

To close out this rambling dissertation on the beauty that is Canders (praise be)

Enjoy this lovely fanart drawn by the talented @frikadeller in a commission for @autumnyte-old​

Case closed!

[jawsandbones]

All is Well

[Read on AO3]

Light plays at dancing through the trees, and shadows a pattern over them. Her reaching fingertips brush up against the branches and leaves which curl downwards into their path. She plucks one as she passes, turning it between her fingers – a dizzying spin of greens, yellows and reds. Merrill and Isabela catch her attention and so she lets it go. It floats away from her, landing the step behind him. She’s turning to listen to what Merrill is telling her as they walk, and he watches the edge of her smile. The warm glow of the setting sun haloes around Hawke’s profile. It sets fire to all it touches, from the stray strands of her hair in the breeze, to what seeps through her fingers as she talks, landing on him. Fenris knows he must tell her soon.

It’s dark by the time their tired feet find the familiar cobble of Kirkwall’s streets. Hawke hugs Merrill goodnight while he turns his head towards the sky, counts stars through the smoke of the torch. Isabela’s goodbye is a merry wave, the unexpected pat of Hawke’s ass. Hawke and Fenris look at each other as the door to the Hanged Man swings shut, and after a moment begin to laugh together. They fall naturally in step beside each other. Step by steady step up the stairs of Lowtown, listening to the distant sounds of conversation and laughter, as they head towards Hightown.

Merrill tends to walk with her gaze cast towards the ground, charting steps. While Anders closely studies other people’s faces, Isabela makes a map of the rest of their body, their pockets. Aveline is always on guard, on duty, even when she says she isn’t, eyes darting around to everything that could be amiss. He’s noticed more than once Sebastian’s head tilting upwards, his eyes closed, guided by the sounds of them around him. Varric only ever spares attention for his friends, his walking usually accompanied by engaging conversation. Too often Fenris’ gaze was fixed behind, ever glancing over his own shoulder. He looks forward more now, in the same way Hawke always has.

The Chantry looms into sight, and underneath its glare, the dueling hawks above the door of her estate. Careful as he reaches out, his fingertips touching against hers, bringing her to a halt. Surprised, perhaps, but she doesn’t pull her hand away from his. “I was wondering if I could speak with you,” Fenris says. Hawke’s shoulders ease, the smile spreads.  

“Yours or mine?”

She’s haphazardly pulling at straps and buckles, trying to undo the familiar armor which marks Hawke as Champion. She sighs relief when she finally sits down, free of armor and weapons, and rolls her head forward as she works out the ache in her neck, her back. It’s with an absentminded flick of her fingers that she lights the fireplace, stretches her feet out in front of it with a grateful groan, her boots flopped over beside her. He takes the seat across from her once he has put his own armor away, and watches as Marian runs a hand through her hair. It’s the longest it’s been in years, as she’s been given no reason to cut it back yet. There’s always a reason, she had told him after Carver, Leandra, the Arishok… he doesn’t want to be the reason for it, again.  

His mantle is covered in things, now. A ship in a bottle from Isabela, wolf figures from Merrill. Even Carver has sent him things from his time spent travelling with the Wardens. Of course, they leave their marks in other places – one glance at all the things Isabela has carved into his stair rail is proof of that. Sebastian has filled his closet with clothes not particularly suiting his taste, but nonetheless appreciated. Varric has generously donated to his library, stacked his shelves. It’s not without a trace of Anders and his skill, Aveline and her frequent attempts to implore him to move. There are cups underneath the holes in his roof, and the dust, cobwebs, have been banished. Fenris wouldn’t quite call it home, but it is more than it used to be.

“What did you want to talk about?” Marian’s voice pulls him from his own examination of his place, and he sits up a little straighter in his chair.

“I have been thinking more, on what happened with Danarius,” he says. She shifts forward slightly, crosses her arms, perches her elbows on her knees as she listens. “It has finally begun to feel real, that he is dead. I thought that once I had come to this point… his death would solve everything for me. I would no longer need to run and fight to stay alive, and I would be able to truly live as a free man. Yet,” his hands clench into fists over his knees. “I am not sure how to – do that. Danarius’s life gave me purpose, direction. His death gives me nothing.”

“Doesn’t it?” She gives him a brief smile, opens her hands to him, palms out. “Now there’s nothing to hold you back. A terrible sort of gift, isn’t it? One with so many choices.”

“Perhaps it is time to move forward. I just don’t know where that leads.” His hands squeeze a little tighter. “Do you?”

“Wherever it leads, I hope it means we’ll still be able to have days like this.” She leans back, palms flat down beside her, palms curling around the edge of the bench. “The ones we spend together,” she says, as the fire casts warm light across her.

“That is my hope as well,” Fenris tells her, and her breath catches in her throat as she watches the fond smile spreads easy and true across his face. She also watches it lose its confidence, falter, as his gaze turns down from hers. “We have never discussed what happened between us three years ago.”

“No,” Marian says softly, “we haven’t.” Her fingers tangle together, pull at each other.

“I felt like a fool,” he says as he leans forward as well, before, “I thought it better if you hated me.” He pushes himself up from the chair, paces the empty space across the room, back and forth, in front of the fireplace. Finally, he comes to a slow stop near the bench. “I deserved no less.”

“I understood why you left that night Fenris,” she says. “I won’t deny that it hurt. I wish it was done in a better way. But I understood. I’ve always understood.”

“If I could go back, I would stay.”

“I know, but I’m glad you didn’t.” He blinks, taken aback. She continues quickly. “I don’t think we were the right people for each other, then. Not yet. Too many things holding us back.”

“And now we have so many choices.”

“A terrible gift, just like I told you,” she says as she looks up at him. Their shared laughter is low, but oh, it’s a relief. Fenris takes a hesitant step forward, pauses in the unending agony of organizing thought, of finding the right words.

“Even so, I… I still wish I had made the choice to tell you how I felt.”

“What would you have said?” She could sit forever in this moment. Gossamer green settling, butterfly wings of lashes falling across his color as he smiles, breathless as he looks at her, steps closer.

“Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

“Fenris –”

“I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now.” She stands up slowly, closes what little distance is left between them. Touch, against his wrist, her token. Then her arms wrap around his waist, hands moving up his back. He’s slow to settle in his own allowance of such a thing, but he does. He does, so much, so needy, greedy, wanted and wanting in equal measure. Her fingers stitch at the back of his shoulder, wind into his tunic. A hand settles at the nape of her neck, his other arm pulling her closer against him. A hiccup of watery laughter, and she buries the smile she can’t be rid of against his shoulder. “If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side,” he murmurs low, his lips against the shell of her ear, as he hugs her harder, holds her tighter.

---

He wakes later with a sharp inhale, his eyes snapping open. He has a foot on the floor, leg off the narrow bed. One of his arms is asleep, trapped underneath her. Fenris is still thoroughly tangled in her, the embrace of her wings. She’s half draped over him, arms curled around him. He doubts he could free his leg from how tightly hers hug it. Starlight flickers through the cracks between the boards, cast a glow in place of still warm embers. Marian’s head is tucked into the crook of his neck, and he rests his cheek against her forehead. It’s enough. The slightest shift, and her hand moves up to brush against his face.

“Fen,” a low and hoarse murmur as her finger moves slow back and forth against his cheek, “bad dream?” Tired eyes open, stars reflected in her lyrium blue. Her affectionate touch remains steady. “Memories?”

“Memories.” She begins to move but, “good ones,” he reassures her quietly, kisses her gently, his hand warm at her back, unwilling to let her go. “Of you. Us.”

[pikapeppa]

Nirra, the mysterious silent mage hands the Inquisitor a small sheet of paper with two questions written on it: for Fenris and Rynne. If you could change one thing about the past, what would it be? If you could make one thing happen in the future, what would it be? She nods her head in thanks, a small smile playing on her scarred lips.

Hawke: Oh shit. Asking the big questions, huh? 

[She laughs and tugs her ear. Fenris, meanwhile, is quiet and pensive.]

Hawke: Do you want to go first, or should I?

Fenris: I… need to think.

Hawke: [laughs again] All right. Maybe, um… 

[She trails off. They’re both silent for a long minute.] 

Hawke: For changing the past, I was thinking maybe if only I’d escorted my mother to her friend’s house that evening, then that Quentin fucker wouldn’t have gotten her. But... she’d gone out on her own so many times before, and it was always fine... 

[She trails off. Fenris takes her hand.] 

Hawke: Maybe… being harder on Anders or something? Or – not harder on him, but… not letting him just stew over his own shit. Ha, literally! Remember how that bomb of his had shit in it?

[She laughs. Fenris does not.]

Fenris: That is a valid regret.

Hawke: [gives Fenris an odd look] Thanks?

Fenris: Oh. I didn’t mean... you know I don’t fault you for his idiocy. 

Hawke: [sighs] No, I know. 

[They’re quiet for another moment.]

Hawke: Your turn. What would you change from the past?

[Fenris looks at her. She stares at him for a moment, then shakes her head.]

Hawke: That wasn’t your fault either.

Fenris: If Carver had stayed with Cassandra–

Hawke: [fiercely] Not your fault, Fenris. No one could have known what would happen at Adamant. You didn’t know he’d... that he’d stay behind. 

[They’re silent again. Fenris is holding her hand tightly.]

Hawke: What about the future, then? If you could have any one thing, what would it be?

[He darts a look at her, then drops his gaze and rubs his mouth.]

Fenris: I’m not sure.

Hawke: [smiles] You thought of something. I can tell.

Fenris: I… it’s not for them to hear. [jerks his head at the audience]

Hawke: [grinning] Oh my. Is it romantic? Will you tell me later?

Fenris: [smirks, but doesn’t quite meet her eye.] Perhaps.

Hawke: [laughs] All right, fine. If I could have any one thing in the future… [she trails off and looks at him.] Honestly, I just want us to be happy. You, me, Varric, Dorian, Cassandra, even bloody Solas, wherever he’s gone off to. Merrill and Anders, everyone. I just want everyone to be fucking happy. 

[Fenris nods silently. Hawke pats his forearm.]

Hawke: Your turn. You must have thought of something audience-friendly by now. 

Fenris: [sighs] It will sound grim. 

Hawke: Tell me anyway.

Fenris: I was going to say... I would want for us to survive this. All of this. To leave this life behind only when we are too old to enjoy it anymore.

[They stare at each other for a moment. She strokes his chin.]

Hawke: You’re right. That is really fucking grim.

[He snorts, and she bursts into laughter. A second later, they’re both laughing.]

Hawke: Mine trumps yours, I think. Being happy automatically includes surviving first. 

Fenris: Mine had the old-age part, though. To be happy, we’d have to stay alive for quite some time.

Hawke: Looks like we both win this round, then. 

Fenris: So it would seem.

***************

Ask Rynne Hawke and Fenris a random question!

[secretsfromwholecloth]

Dragon Age II, day 2.

I’ve resigned myself to seeing “Carver: Rivalry +5″ a whole hell of a lot. I think if I want to do a Carver friendship run, I’d have to plan the whole playthrough specifically around that.

Hello, Fenris. Murdering slavers in the face is always good fun.

Or murdering them in the chest, as it happens.

Welcome to the party, Anders. Sorry about Pavey being kind of mean to you, but she does want to help, and I suspect you’ll learn to kind of like it in time. Or at least nudge her anger in a similar direction to yours so you can be angry at stuff together.

Hello, Marethari et al. Wow, you look different. And sound different. The new aravel design is pretty.

Hello, Merrill. I’m so sorry that Pavey was mean to you, she’ll warm to you in time.

Poor, poor Carver. All he wants is to have a normal life and not attract Templar attention, and his sister goes and makes friends with an abomination and a blood mage.

I most certainly did not intend to threaten to kill Feynriel. Give him a light beating if he tries to turn himself in to the Templars, maybe. Holy shit.

Hello, Isabela. Beating the shit out of creeps is always fun!

Oh, Anders, this “we can’t be together, I’ll hulk out and break your heart” routine isn’t convincing anyone, we both know you’ll be yeeting yourself bodily at Pavey inside of approximately three minutes.

I keep racking up rivalry with Varric, and it makes me terribly sad.

Hello again, Cullen. *sigh* Just...*sigh*

Yes, rant about how mages have to be watched at all times to the person with a staff strapped to her back who just saved your ass by slapping a Crushing Prison on that abomination. Brilliant. Love you too, Cullen.

“A cold shower”? Varric, honey, I get that you thought Idunna was hot for some ungodly reason, but how are you still horny after watching her try to mind-control your friend into killing herself and then get murder knifed for her trouble?

Fenris, it’s probably time to issue the standard warning about Pavey and the heavy end of her staff if you keep giving her flak for being a mage. Yes, the staff with the naked lady figurine on the heavy end. You’ll have some very interestingly-shaped bruises.

That’d be the Malcolm’s Honor staff, which raises a question or two. Like, did he specifically think to himself about which daughter he wanted to inherit the staff with the bodacious ta-tas, or what?

Carver, you shut your hole about being able to see the Templars’ point. Your hole. Shut it.

Anders: “You may want to downplay the blood magic angle, we don’t need the Templars cracking down any harder.” Pavey: *immediately goes and tells Cullen about the blood mages, what is self-preservation, can she eat it?*

Other than Carver needing healing at one point, the fight against the dragon at the Bone Pit went remarkably well. To be fair, that is only an introductory dragon.

Having Varric lie us out of trouble never gets old.

And I’ve officially run out of Act 1 stuff to do, so time to head for the Deep Roads.

Ooh, looks like I’ve hauled Varric kicking and screaming onto the friendship side of the friend/rival divide. Hopefully he stays there, having him as a rival makes me sad.

Time for the ceremonial declaration of “fuck you, Bartrand.”

Aw, Pavey didn’t get to punch the rock wraith abomination in the face.

The fight against the ancient rock wraith went much better this time. By which I mean everyone was still standing by the end of it.

Stroud? Huh, OK, yeah, apparently he turns up here no matter what. I’m not complaining too loudly. Seeing Stroud also means hearing his VA, of whom my opinions are already well known.

And Carver has been packed off to the Wardens, poor kid. On to Act 2.

Awesome, I missed out on beating up slavers with Fenris last time.

And it’s after midnight, so I’ll have to finish murdering slavers in the face tomorrow.

[cutieink]

Get Along for Her Sake

A Fenhawke Fan Fic by CutieInk

Lots of angst, sass and fluff <3 

Read here on AO3

Maxine Hawke was a patient person on most occasions. She might as well been bred to be due to her upbringing. A farm girl apostate with two younger siblings to help take care of was no fleeting task growing up and often she’d shake with anxiety, biting the soft flesh of her cheeks as she held back the need to break her façade of well behaved eldest daughter of the Hawke-Amell line.

But when it became too much, she allowed herself to run from it all into the woods near her families cottage and sit while silently weeping. She’d listening to the utter silence of her surroundings and reveled in it. No orders, no bickering, no judgment, no fear, just the calming sounds of birds singing, the rustle of leaves as critters went about their simple lives and the occasional downpour of rain pattering on the forests canopy that she so loved.

As her surroundings calmed her she’d fantasize of a selfish life just made for her. Something romantic like the novels her mother had given her; Of a knight in shining armor whisking her away or maybe even her being the one doing the whisking of some fair Serrah. She’d hum a tune softly as she engulfed herself in a world of her very own; she found enough peace in these moments alone to keep moving forward. To keep being that perfect girl everyone expected of her.

These moments usually ended with her gaining her composure once more and making her way back home but if she dallied long enough her siblings would find her and inform that she need to come home immediately, or worse even her mother yelling for her but she needed this time to herself, even more so after her father passed. By then she was an adult and held more responsibilities then ever even with her fully grown siblings to aid her. It became harder and harder to find any time for herself and it would only get worse when the Blight approached Lothering…

Kirkwall, mid 3:32 Dragon

Maxine strikes down the last blood mage with a skin charring burst of magic and with that they fall to the ground finally dead. Maxine breathlessly pierces her staff into the ground with her last bit of strength and drops to the ground, crossing her legs together as she tries to regain a healthy heart beat.

“You good Hawke?” Varric asks his friend while patting her back lightly not to rouse her too much. She waves her hand behind her trying to pat him back but fails too and drops her hand in defeat.

“Yeah…yeah I’m fine just…need a moment. Sorry guys.” She feels another presence kneel next to her. Looking up she sees a vile of lyrium being dangled in front of her face.

“I think you’ll need this.” Anders said with a chuckle. Weakly she takes it and gulps it down fast, so not to gag on the thick glowing substance. Almost as quickly she feels relieved and breathes a long exhale of relief and looks up at the runaway warden and gives an appreciative nod in thanks.

“You know you wouldn’t be so broken down after battle if you actually let us do some of the work there Hawke.” Varric chuckled.

“I second that, you weren’t even letting me heal, you know that thing that’s my job when I’m around?” Anders says pointing at himself while quirking his eyebrows at her. Looking at Varric he then points to her. “She kept beating me to the punch.”

“Oh I’m sorry if you boys are too slow to do it yourself.” She scoffs with a gentle grin across her face which fades as a shadow looms over her and Anders. They slowly look up to see Fenris with his hands firmly on his hips as he glares down at Maxine before letting out a long sigh and reaching out his gauntlets awaiting her to take his offer of help up from the blood coated ground. Her face turns crimson making Anders eyes roll as she takes the offer almost timidly.

“I cannot believe I’m saying this Hawke but…”He pauses as he pulls her up with haste causing her to be deathly close to his strikingly stoic face. “Listen to the mage and the dwarf for once.” He finishes and turns on his heel to go grab his sword, leaving her flushed with embarrassment as Varric laughs at Anders almost dumbfounded face.

“Ha! Maker, Hawke you made them agree on something…and me! I believe I’ve just witnessed a miracle!”

“Yes well I’m sure you just jinxed it.” She quietly affirms to the hairy dwarf as she bites her lip in anxious anticipation. Anders rises from his squatting position, not even hearing his friends banter and turns his full attention to the broody elf that was in the middle of pulling his great sword off of the ground.

“Funny how even as you agree with me for the first time since we’ve known each other for, what a year and a half now? You still insist on calling me Mage. Which mind you I’m not even the only mage in your company at the present moment.” Anders says with an annoyed chuckle gesturing towards Maxine, leading her gaze back to Varric. “You could at least try to be a little creative.”

“Aw, shit.” Sighs Varric as he looks down in shame as Maxine hits his shoulder with the palm of her hand.

“See? You did this. You ruined the moment.”

“What can I say? I’m better at writing good moments than making them.” Varric shrugs with an apologetic grin to the women who only stood about 6 inches taller than he. Their attention is pulled away from each other as they hear an annoyed growl leave Fenris’s lips.

Fenris is now glaring back at Anders, leaving his sword to fall onto the sun bleached dirt once again. “Well you insist on proclaiming your title as a Mage so often I don’t see why it’s a problem. Besides I’ve called you far worse.” So tempted to tell him exactly what he wishes to call him. Abomination.

“Oh! So I should be grateful then! Well then yes thank you all mighty Elven Warrior for not referring to me as Abomination no longer! Truly, I am so honored.” Anders dramatically exclaims as he bows to Fenris.

Here we go. Maxine thought as her heart begins to beat faster as if she had been drained of her lyrium once again. It was a mistake to bring them both, you idiot why did you bring them both! She scolds herself as she watches her friends spit words laced with poison like vipers.

“Do not test my patience, leave this be Mage and we can move on. I’m sure we all have better things to do.” Fenris grits his teeth as he gets in Anders face attempting to intimidate him but the human stands his ground.

“Yes let’s move on Anders. Please…” Maxine begs as she digs her long nails into her arms, just wanting this to be over. It was bad enough she was forced to slaughter her own kind today, them being blood mages did not change that fact for her. Now she is forced to see her friends who loathed each other argue was just sending her into panic mode. Something she’d had been trying so hard to keep away from her friends.

Anders darts his dagger like glare to her making her breath hitch. His auburn eyes statically turn blue with mana as he loses himself to Justice. “You take this elf’s side over your own kind you wench?!” Justice blurts out before losing control to Anders. Before he can react, Fenris pins him to ground in a blink of an eye, his markings vivid with the glow of lyrium illuminating under his skin.

“Fenris! Stop, get off of him!” Maxine yells in shock while Varric holds her back not wanting her to get into the scuffle he assumes will end soon.

“T-That wasn’t me. I’m sorry Haw-Ugh, Makers balls get off of me you beast! I’m in control now!” Anders says as he tries and fails to twist his wrists out of the elfs skin piercing grasp.  

“Yes, for now! But what of next time, hmm? When will it get through your thick skull that you are in way over your head!? That you are no better than the mages we killed today!” A jolt of electricity runs through Fenris, burning his brandings from the inside. He cries out in pain as Anders gets the upper hand and practically throws Fenris off of him and holds him down by his spiky feathered shoulders. Maxine watches in wide eyed horror almost losing her footing as Varric lets go of her seeing that this has crossed a line.

Anders viciously shouts down at Fenris. “I am nothing like them! I help people; I’m trying to make this Blighted world a better fucking place for my people, for everyone! And what have you done with your freedom?! Sulk in your Masters disheveled Mansion and gawk over our Mage leader like she’s some forbidden fruit for you to devour you fucking pervert!”

“FUCK YOU!” Fenris screams his lungs out in Anders face as a tear threatens to descend his duct from the pain of his markings and the mages harsh words.

“NO! FUCK YO-Whoa!” Anders is cut off as he feels himself being swept off of Fenris easily with an invisible force. As both Anders and Fenris gain their composure they look up at the culprit looming over them.

“Holy shit Hawke.” Varric shuttered a few feet away from her, intimidated just by her stance and not even the terrifying view that the arrogant men lying on the floor had the displeasure of seeing. Her honey colored eyes flooded with a flaming rage begging to be let loose.

“Is it truly too much to ask for you both to get the fuck along!?” Maxine screeches as she eyes them both in earnest. Their stunned silence as they look at each other and then quickly back to her only seems to make her fall farther from her sanity. Unbelievable bastards she thinks before chuckling. “I mean Isabela and Aveline might get into it now and then but I know they care for one another even if they’d never bloody admit it. Maker’s sake even Carver was never this bad with me and…and…”

The thought of her sisters sweet angelic face, bloodied and bruised as her mother cries over her broken body and her blight illed brother being carried off to the wardens interrupts her train of thought. Tears threaten to blur her vision as she pressed her pale chapped lips together to prevent them from seeing her lips trembling in grief.

I failed to keep my brother and sister safe, and now I can’t even protect my friends from each other.

“You know what forget it…nothing I’ll say will change either of you stubborn pricks. Sod it I’m sure you’re both mad at me now right? Let me guess, because I threw you off a man who was just trying to protect us because you can’t control your own blighting body?!” Hawke gestures to Anders. “Well I’m sure if you were in his position you have done the same for us so don’t you dare blame him for that! And for that matter, don’t you EVER use magic on him or any of our friends like that again or I swear I will make you regret the day you left the Wardens! Is that understood?!”

“Y-yes, Hawke.” He holds his scraped up hand while averting his gaze from her in apologetic defeat. Of course she felt lousy for pushing him and with magic no less, but seeing him cause Fenris pain was too much to bear. But her anger over the whole situation made her refuse to apologize to anyone.

With that she turned her attention to Fenris who scowled at her. She was unsure if it was from the pain or he was truly annoyed with her as well, but her anger was getting the better of her. “Oh and I’m certain you’ve found some reason to blame me for all this. For making you come along even when you always insist on coming along! Or better yet, I bet you think this is some kind of sign I’m losing control of my magic, yes? That any second I’ll prove you right that even a mage like me will succumb to possession?”

She exclaims as she conjures fire in her shaky hands, displaying it before extinguishing it just as fast with a snap of her wrists, causing his eyes to widen in response before regaining his stoic composure. “Well sorry to disappoint but I will spend the rest of my sorrowful life proving to people like you that I don’t need to be leashed like a fucking Mabari! That I use my magic for no personal gain but to help the people I care for, even if they hate me for what I am!” Her voice embarrassingly breaks as she yells down at Fenris as she felt tears burning her eyes.

Fenris’s harsh gaze begins to soften as he reads between the lines of her vicious words. Hate she said. Does she truly think I hate her because she’s a mage? He could not really blame her for believing that of him. For the past year and a half he had been avid about ranting his feelings on mages. How magic is a power that taints everything it possesses.

Yet he was no fool…well not always. He knew magic could be of use. Maker he’d probably be dead by now if it wasn’t for Hawke and even Anders and Merrill’s aid during some of their bloodiest of battles. Although he had avoided admitting this, he even had begun to see that maybe some were worthy of such bewitchment. Hawke’s prowess and virtue was endearing enough to begrudgingly make him think such nonsense. Without realizing it, he had put her on a pedestal above all others. Mage or not.

The only other person who had not figured this out was Maxine herself, proving quite obvious as she looked in anguish down at him. Before he could reply, she breaks their eye contact and begins to storm off.

“Hawke, wait! Where are you going?” Varric questions as he tries to catch up with her. Not stopping for even a second, she yells back at him.

“I’m leaving before I say something I’ll truly regret later! Just…go home and if you don’t mind make sure Tweedle Dick and Tweedle Dumbass don’t kill each other while you’re heading back to town! I’m…taking a walk before I go back.”

“Uh, y-yeah you got it! Just don’t stay out too late! Rather not have your darling mother scold us for losing track of ya!” Varric yells back, watching her leave his sights before letting out a long sigh. He turns back to the men seeing Anders is healing his hand while Fenris seems lost in thought.“Soo…If I were you two I’d kiss and make up before seeing our fearless leader again. I oddly think that was her holding back on you both.” He says with a chuckle while rubbing the back of his neck.

“You may be right about that… Maker, I’ve never seen her that upset before.” Anders sadly replies as he stands up, rubbing his bruised side. He looks down hesitantly at Fenris who is still looking in the direction that Maxine stormed off too. And I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so lost for words.  He thinks as he ponders his next move.

Fenris’s gaze is blurred by a glass bottle filled with a red liquid, being dangled in front of him. He tips his head up to see the mage looking back with his brow furrowed.

“I doubt you’d let me heal you after…well, you know.”

“You’d be correct with your assumption.” Fenris replies coldly, biting his tongue trying not to say anything that might renew their altercation. Yet he smoothly pushes away the peace offering and starts to rise from the ground. “But I do not require your pity. And let us not pretend we are sorry for what we said or did shall we?” He said dusting off tights and begins to walk away when he’s stopped by Anders hand on his shoulder, making him groan in pain. His markings still dull with more discomfort than usual.  

“You’re right, I’m not sorry for what I said because it was true and I know you’re no delicate flower who can’t handle a little bloody prick of magic…but I am sorry about what we did to Hawke and I know you are too. So I’m willing to forget today and try a little harder to keep the peace with you but only if you are as well.” Anders states as he glares down at Fenris who did the same.

Fenris slowly looks down with a sighs and slight nod in agreement. “Very well…but do not expect me to not protect our comrades from your demon in the future.”

“Spirit!”

“Whatever you wish to call it does not change a thing! I will not hesitate to take you down like I did today! Just consider yourself lucky I will not rip your heart out unless it is necessary.” Fenris retorts, yanking Anders grip off of him. Their eyes burn into each other’s till they feel themselves being pushed away firmly making them grunt in unison.

“Alright, enough with the pissing contest already! Ya want me tattle to Hawke that you whiny sods kept fighting after she left?” Varric warns as he points his gloved finger and raises his eyebrows at the elf and human. Anders and Fenris look back at each other squinting one last time in disgust at one another and then take a respectful step away from one another. “That’s what I thought. Now, shake on it.”

Anders rolls his eyes while Fenris groans at the dwarf’s request but they comply. This was for Hawke’s sake and nothing more to them. Anders raises his hand casually awaiting Fenris’s reluctant hand. As they shake on it, they give a tight squeeze as they glare intently at each other before yanking their grips away quickly.

“Good boys.” Varric says patting them like misbehaved pups to which Fenris whacks his hand away while Anders glares down at his short friend. Varric only laughs in response and starts to make his way down the mountain. “Now come on you two I promised Hawke to escort you back to your respective lairs.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming you hairy bastard.” Anders mumbles as he makes his way to Varric’s side.

Varric looks back to see that Fenris is staring off into the direction Hawke went. “Hey Broody! You coming or what?” The elf snaps his attention to Varric but then looks down in thought as he bites his lip.

“I…think I’ll wait up for Hawke. I wish to see she gets home safe.” Fenris says as his attention goes back to the other path leading to Maxine. Anders tries to say something but Varric tugs his sleeve and gives him a look that tells him not to say anything stupid which leaves Anders mumbling a “fine” and keeps walking.  

“Sounds good to me, just try not to sour her mood more than the two of you already have eh? Rather not have to plan your funeral because you can’t hold your tongue, if you don’t mind.” Varric requests of his broody friend.

He can’t help but let out a chuckle at Varric’s way of showing concern for his and Hawke’s well being in his own humorous way. “I’ll manage just fine, Dwarf.” With that Fenris picks up his sword, puts it on his back and begins to make his way towards Hawke’s direction.  

“Alright, alright, see you tomorrow if you aren’t dead Broody!” Varric replies with a smirk and finally he turns to descend the hill once more while Anders sternly looking back at Fenris before slowly making his way down as well.

“Are you sure we should trust him with checking on Hawke.”

“Blondie I didn’t see you offering.”

“Well…neither did you.” Anders looked away flustered while crossing his arms as they continue walking.

“Hey I’m an innocent bystander in this mess if you didn’t notice. Besides, this works out well. We live in Lowtown, them in Hightown. Meaning I don’t have to walk a few extra miles today.”

“So sure you don’t need that extra exercise.” Anders says with a sly grin as he begins to calm down.

“Ha-ha very funny. Just for that I ain’t buying drinks at the Hanged man tonight. You’re gonna pay in some way for the crap you pulled today.”

“So I’m paying for your drinks? I hate to say it but wouldn’t it make more sense to do something for the two of them?”

“Eh consider it practice. You can pretend I’m the elf so we can see if you can go without saying something stupid when talking to him from now on.”

“You expect him to do the same for me?” Anders scoffs.

“Maybe not. But you said it yourself. You both need to try harder to get along. At the very least for Hawke. If that means only one of you being the bigger man, then so be it.” Varric said as he rested his hands on the back of his head, lightly playing with the back of his ponytail.

Anders really couldn’t argue with that. He knew he went too far today. They all did in their own ways. Well, accept Varric but he was always the one who tried to appease everyone around him, Hawke being a close second. He admired that but it wasn’t second nature for him like it was for them. They didn’t go through the torment he went through. He had no patients any more to bite his tongue through his oppression… If only he realized Fenris felt similarly.

Fenris easily began to track the small foot prints Hawke had left behind. He sees they become less indented in the dirt the farther he walks, showing less animosity in her stride. Although glad to see the difference in her step, he worries he’ll lose her track at this rate with how the wind seems to be picking up as the sun has begun to lower.

As he rounds another corner he sees a small figure sitting on an old log covered with moss with their head hung low and their arms wrapped around themselves protectively. Hawke he almost says allowed but holds his tongue and only watches her for a few moments, assessing her state before making his move. She is shaking as she slowly rocks back and forth on the log.

He cannot see her face as her dark chocolate hair obscures it, but the sound of her weeping paints a picture that wounds him. It’s not that he had never seen her cry before, but when she did she was silent and would only shed a few tears before gaining her composure back with time and was back to her diplomatic yet bold self. This…was different. He had never heard her sound so somber before. Not even when she came home after what transpired in the Deep Roads with her brother.

It hurt to see her in such a state but also was rather uncomfortable for him. He was not knowledgeable in the matters of comforting someone; let alone someone who he caused pain too. Maybe this was a mistake. He thinks. This is my doing. What could I possibly-

“F-Fenris?”

His thoughts are interrupted by Hawke’s hoarse voice making him blush in embarrassment. He looks up reluctantly to see her quickly rubbing her face and nose, trying to look a bit less pathetic. Her eyes and lips are puffy and red as she looks over her shoulder at him. He can’t hide how his face contorts in surprise and woe at her appearance, making her avert his gaze as her face becomes even rosier.

“Is…is it just you?”

“Yes…”

“Oh…are they mad? “

He gives her a puzzled look while stepping closer. “At you? No. Frightened maybe but I’m sure after a few ales they’ll be over it.”

Still wiping her face with her sleeve she lets out a weak chuckle. “I did go overboard on all of you didn’t I?”

“Perhaps. But I’m one to talk hmm?” he says while lightly kicking a small rock closer to her. It rolls near her and she stops it with her scuffed black boot.

“…What are you doing here Fenris?”

“I-I wanted to see you home safe…besides I’ve grown accustom to walking home with you.” He says quietly as he slowly walks closer to her.

She snickers while shaking her head still not looking at him, still trying to gain her composure. “What need me to hold your hand through Hightown? You’re a big boy you can handle yourself just fine without me.”

“If anyone needs hand holding right now it’d be you, Hawke.” He scoffs at her and taking his sword, piecing it in the ground before taking a seat next to her, not bothering to ask permission.

“Pfft, right like you’d actually-“she lets out a small gasp as she feels cold metal claws wrap gently around her shaky hand. Doe eyed she finally looks at him. His eyebrows furrowed and eyes hooded but intense as always. An intensity others would be fearful of but not her, not ever. “Well…that’s a first. Is this you trying to be the sincere one for once?”

“I could stop if you’re just going to point it out.”

“No, no this is good! It’s…just a rarity with you.” She didn’t mean to sound so matter-of-fact about his lack of affection. She understood his nature due to his grim past, even if she didn’t know the extent of the torment he went through.

“…I know.” He bluntly says while looking away seemingly ashamed of himself. Showing affection was not something he was at all use too and compared to Hawke he was as empathetic as a starved Dragon.

Everyone in their group of misfits had their own way of showing affection towards each other. Whether that was a pat on the back, a tight embrace, a punch on the arm, or even a kiss on the cheek. But they all knew to be cautious with Fenris, even Hawke showed restraint with her physical affection with him comparative to her other friends. He should have been relieved by that and yet he seemed as of lately to desire to be closer to her, to share the same affection she would give to her friends or perhaps more than that.

He feels like pulling away but feels her grip tighten before he can act on his impulse to flee. “I appreciate when you do though.” She said softly, gripping his hand and putting it on her thigh with a weak smile that eases Fenris’s nerves.

“Are you alright?” he asks knowing she isn’t.

“Been better…you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He bluntly answers.

They sit there in utter silence for a few seconds, neither sure of how to go about discussing any of what transpired that day without causing some form of disagreement. They may have been good at fighting, but that didn’t mean they enjoyed it.

“So…did you only come here to see me home safe?” she asks nervously while grazing her thumb on Fenris’s gauntlet. He sighs deeply while rubbing the back of his neck.

“I-I wanted to apologize for causing you… unneeded stress for you with the mages and I’s quarrel.”

Hawke raises her eyebrow and glares at him while releasing her grip on his hand to fold her arms. It confuses him at first but then easily realizes his error. His hand feels oddly bare without her touch which befuddles him. He almost finds himself reaching out for her but instead digs his claws into his palm and settles his hand to his side with a sigh.

“…Anders and I’s quarrel. There, satisfied?”

“Is that so hard for you to do? Because if you remember something as simple as that, today wouldn’t have happened the way it did.” Hawke scoffs.

“Are you truly blaming me right now for this?” his voice now slightly raised showing his growing annoyance.

“I blame both of you actually. You two act like jealous mabari around each other. It’s cute till one starts maiming the other.”

“I was trying to-” he pauses and pinches the bridged of his nose, trying not to raise his voice any higher. “…I was only trying to keep you and Varric safe. Maker knows what that demon would have done if I didn’t.” Truth be told he wasn’t even thinking about Varric when he pinned Anders to the ground. All he heard was Anders distorted voice calling her a wench, making his blood boil and suddenly he was on top of him.

“Yes and I do appreciate the sentiment but I think we were just fine. You may be our main warrior of our group since I lost Carver to the Wardens and Aveline is too busy these days being Guard Captain to help out but that doesn’t mean I need you to fight all my battles.”

“Look who’s talking!” Fenris finally breaks while quickly standing up to glare down at the small mage.

“And what is that suppose to mean?” she scoffs in question.

“You were a reckless fool today! You drained your mana because you wouldn’t allow Annndersss” he draws out the other mages name to keep to her wishes but in the most annoying way possible, making Hawke’s eyes roll in response. “To heal us in battle and you wouldn’t even let the rest of us take most of the abominations down ourselves! I may be ignorant to exactly how your magic works but I know for a fact you could have easily harmed yourself with how careless you were!”

“Well maybe I wanted things done quickly, ok! Yes they needed to be put down because they were a threat but if it had to be anyone it would be me who takes them down! Not by a man who couldn’t care less about their plight or a mage who sees all blood mages as monsters when many could argue that is exactly what he is even if I don’t believe he is despite his hypocrisy! …I know at least that is how I’d want it to be if I was one of them-”

“No! You are nothing like them!” He grasps her shoulder before he is pushed off almost immediately.

“But I am a Mage! Something you like to forget it seems! Anders may have been cruel with his words but it is true you don’t treat me like other mages. Why? What’s the point?! And don’t say I should be grateful because it is no compliment to be an exception from what you despise! Either you hate me for what I am or you don’t! I am so sick of one minute we are having nothing but fun with each other and the next you are tearing my people down and expecting me to not take it personally! So pick how you feel already!” She yells back now standing as tall as she can as she scowls craning her neck up to meet his gaze.

Her eyes are red with tears and he can’t bear to look at her straight. He looks away and crosses him arms gently together, not sure how to word why he treated her so differently than others. How could he when he wasn’t truly sure himself?

“It’s not that simple. You…you are just different. I’ve never met any mage like you…or anyone who is like you for that matter.”

“I’m not that different from anyone el-”

“You are, Maxine.” Fenris butts in making Hawke look up in surprise at hearing him say her given name.

“…Alright then, how am I different?”

“When we first met, I wanted to hate you. Yes you are what I fear in this world but…since day one you’ve been nothing but kind to me, even when I never deserved it. Not even at my worst have you been spiteful.”

“Not counting today I imagine.” She let out a weak scoff while nervously running her hand through her matted hair.

“It was…justified. You’ve obviously been holding your tongue for a long time. Maybe even more so than Anders and I have towards each other.”

“You may be right about that…you were saying?”

He nods in thought before speaking once more. “It… confused me, even angered me at times how you treated me. But with time I saw you were just that way with everyone. You were treating me as an equal. Something I’ve never been before.” He cautiously takes her small hand in his. “It has been a long time since I’ve ever met anyone as gracious as you, mage or not. So I assume my reasoning is you deserve to be treated with the same respect you give me, if not more.”

“Well…that’s all fine and good but whether you like it or not I’m still a mage and I will always believe that most mages want to help others if they only had the chance too. I’d like to think my family was living proof of that. My father and sister would have never hurt you or anyone unless they saw them as a threat to who they cared for…just as I do.” She sighs and lightly scrapes her fingernails across his gauntlet.

“If they were anything like you I’m sure you’re right.” His words shock her, making her meet his gaze in question.

“…And if more mages were like me?”

“Then I’d have little to fear.” He says, looking at her with such sincerity.

Damn him. She thinks as her eyes begin to water in delight at his words.

“You make it hard to stay mad at you.” She breathily says with a smile, trying to hold back her tears.  

“Good to know.” His smirk leaves Hawke rolling her eyes but with a scoff.

“Hey, don’t push your luck.  I won’t allow you to get away with everything you know?” She says lightly slapping his shoulder which makes him let out a grunt in discomfort. Hawke’s eyes widen and she lets out a gasp. “Oh! I’m so sorry are you still in pain?”

“I’m fine. Just still aches a bit.”

“Why didn’t Anders heal you after-“

“I declined his offer.” He answers before she can finish. She gives a look that says she shouldn’t have been surprised by that and then she lets out a long sigh while rubbing her temples.

“Sit down.” Hawke orders quietly while pointing to the log.

“Hawke really I’m fi-“

“I said, sit.” She repeats with her hands now on her hips and an eyebrow raised. He glares in opposition at her for a moment before finally giving in with a sigh and plopping himself down on the old log. Hawke’s face relaxes and with that she kneels down and sits in front of him and begins to rummage through her pouch. “And you wonder why I didn’t allow Anders to do his job today. You won’t even take his help when he offers it.”  

Fenris looks in surprise at her confession. “You were-“

“Yes I was keeping you healed so he didn’t have to do it. I know how uncomfortable you are with magic and you seem to only tolerate mine if need be.”

“Hawke I do not need to be coddled. I may not like having to be helped by him if possible but I’m no fool. It’s his duty to keep us alive when he is with us, not you.”

“I know that. But I knew the minute we ran into those blood mages things would turn sour.” She pauses and swears under her breath as her hands still in the bag. “I…I knew one of you would start something after we finished them off and I just…I didn’t want to hear any of it but I knew it was inevitable. So I tried to soften the blow I guess. Just thought if I killed most of them and quickly as well as keep you two from interacting as much as possible, maybe you guys wouldn’t be at each other’s throats.”

“Our bickering upsets you that much?” A remnant of remorse laced in his voice.

“I can deal with bickering Fenris, I had two younger siblings who were as different as the sun and moon. You two don’t bicker.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I can tolerate a lot but I have my limits like anyone else, Fenris. When I saw you on top of him…and then he hurt you I-I couldn’t take it anymore.” She whimpers out before clearing her throat, making Fenris tense up. He hates hearing her voice crack in anguish.

“I see...” he quietly says not sure if he should try to comfort her again like he did when he held her hand. He was only sure he wished to feel her warm touch again and to see her smile again. This desire was cut short as he heard Hawke’s hands rustling through her back stop with annoyed sigh leaving her lips.

“Dammit…I’m out of potions I must have used them all.”  She looks up to see him cocking an eyebrow at her. “Don’t even think about saying what I think you’re going to say, I already know I pushed myself today.”

“I said nothing.” He says defensively yet with a hint of playfulness, showing he meant not to start anything.

“Yes but you had that smug look on your face.” She circles her finger in the air in front of his face. “I’m not tolerating anyone’s sass today if you haven’t noticed.” She finished, leaving him with an ever pompous grin.

“Very well.”

“Good. Now we can do one of two things; either we get back to my place and I give you some potions there or I heal you the old fashion way.” She says while wiggling her fingers in front of her. “You’re choice.”

He can’t help but smile warmly at that. My choice he thinks. There was no way she could grasp just how much it means to him that even when she’s at her limits with him she always gives him a choice. He could not remember a time before meeting her that he was given choices. A choice to reject, a choice to walk away and yet, he desires to show her the faith he has put in her to not harm him.

“Max…” Taking her wrists, he hesitantly places her hands on his aching shoulders. “I trust you.”

She can’t help but stare wide eyed into his mossy green eyes as her cheek become flushed. Her hands, shaky but firm on his arms as she takes in his words of encouragement. I trust you. She had feared she would never gain that from him. She could not hold back a joyful grin. “Well I’m glad… and I trust you too.”

“I-I’m glad as well.” He blushes in return. They stare at each other for a moment till the mood became unbearably awkward.

“I will need my wrists back though if I want to do this properly. Not that I mind you holding me close.” She says with a bewitching smirk spread across her face.

Realizing he was still holding onto her wrists, his face reddens even more and quickly lets go while averting his gaze. “M-my apologies…go ahead.”

She giggles and nods in response before letting go of him so she can hover her fingers, now illuminated in a bluish light, around his arms and shoulders. His body tenses at the first hint of mana, furrowing his brow in the process. She almost stops when she notices his discomfort but he tries gives her a reassuring smile.

“I’m fine Hawke, just get it done quickly. Please.”

“Right, I’m sorry. Try to take some deep breathes, ok?” He nods and breathes in and out at a slow and steady pace. With every breath the pain becomes less and less. He swears it almost begins to feel…calming. Magic has been nothing but pain to him, or at the least a hard pill to swallow but her touch, physical or magical is always so gentle and so thoughtful.

Her hands move smoothly past his shoulders and ghost over his collarbone, making his breath hitch as her fingertips accidentally graze the side of his neck. She pulls back immediately and ends the spell. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“No, no you’re fine! Y-you startled me is all.” Startling…yet not unpleasant. He realizes in thought.

“Oh, good…how’s the pain?” she asked relieved.

Fenris rolls his shoulders and his neck, testing his pain level. Although the pain of the scuffle has now dissipated thanks to Hawke, he feels a dull ache in his markings returning slowly, but this was sadly his reality. Maybe this can never be helped. He thought as he let out a low grumble. “Back to my usual self it seems. Thank you, Hawke.”

“Just doing my job.” She says with a bashful smile which slowly fades. “And…I’m sorry for yelling at you today.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me Hawke. It’s not like I’ve never lost my temper.” He says surprised at her sudden guilt.

“Even so, I could have reacted better. I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately and I haven’t had time to just deal with it you know? And I know I need to make peace that you two just will never be friends. It’s wrong for me to try to change either of you.” She says while wistfully bowing her head and rubs the side of her arm as she still sits in front of him.

“You’re right, we’ll probably always loath each other…but we did come to an agreement that we need to try harder to put our differences aside…for you at least.” Fenris admits sheepishly, making Hawke look up in surprise.

“You did?”

“Yes and I should mention it was his idea. Don’t want him blathering about how he got no credit over this.” He sees her squint at him in annoyance at that. “…that being said I agreed with him because if we had too on one thing, it’d be not wishing to hurt you Hawke.” Fenris says with a sigh, making Hawke begin to grin. It was nice to hear that they were at least willing to try to be better comrades. This could be a good sign.

But if she had learned anything from her family who all had differing views, was that peace only lasted as long as both parties learned to respect each other’s opinions and/or kept their mouths shut over touchy subjects.

Although these principles seemed reasonable for a family that loved each other, it sadly seemed impossible for two men who cared not for each other and believed so strongly the other is an idiot and that their plight was far worse than the others. She wanted to believe their promise was true, she truly did. But they were only words spoken in a moment of guilt.

“I do appreciate that Fenris. Really I do, but I believe in action not words. So forgive me if I hold my breath.” She softly states as she stands.

“You say you trust me yet you doubt my honor to a promise?” He asks earnestly looking up at her.

“It’s not that I don’t believe your word or Anders for that matter. I just don’t wish to get my hopes up. I fear when I do it usually backfires and then I get upset and I don’t wish to have another moment of weakness like I did today just because I got too comfortable with the idea that things will be better if I just hoped. I’m sure you can understand that yes? Not wanting to be disappointed.”

Of course he could. He could never hope for more than he already had, which was very little to begin with. He lived in his old masters abandoned mansion, alone and with very little possessions and even fewer people he could trust in this blighted city.  Yet it was more than he ever had. Maybe that is why he stayed, because he truly couldn’t see himself leaving and finding anything better.

He may have not been happy precisely, but he at times felt at home. When he sparred with Aveline in the barracks, had meals with Hawke and at times with her mother and her mabari, when he humored Isabela’s flirting and silly games like guessing what undergarments he was wearing, playing Wicked Grace with everyone, listening to Hawke’s stories of her family, teasing Varric of his harry chest while Varric made fun of his “broodiness”, walking home from a long day with Hawke …Maker, she always seemed to come to mind when recalling why he never desired to leave.

He had to admit, he would miss much of her; her strange persistence to make him feel wanted, how passionately protective she was of her friends, family and even complete strangers. They never would have met if it wasn’t for that.

He’d even miss how her lovely face seemed to light up when he’d enter the room, and of course her rowdy laugh that left a whole room silent in confusion because what in the name of Andraste could be so funny?

He couldn’t help but try to get her to laugh like that and feel an odd sense of pride when he could. Even stupidly feel jealous when someone else got it out of her before he could. In turn she’d try to get him to laugh just as loud. He never did, but it was hard for anyone to top her infectious laugh, yet that never stopped her from trying to get a good giggle fit out of him that made him as red as a rose.

He’d miss how he felt around her…he even dared to think she felt the same near him. But like her, he feared disappointment.

“Yes…I do.” He weakly says as he stands and looks down at her. “and I won’t lie and say my feelings on mages will change and that Anders and I we’ll never argue again if we can help it…but I will promise that I will try to think of your feelings before I speak and I will not harm Anders unless utterly necessary.”

“Define utterly necessary.” She says with arms now crossed.

“He’s physically harming you…or anyone of importance obviously.” He corrects himself last minute, which leaves her smirking at him.

“…Alright, fair enough. I doubt it will ever come to that though.”

“Whatever you say.” He mumbles, rolling his eyes teasingly.

“Fenris.”

“Just my opinion. It’s not like I wish to be right all the time.” he shrugs smugly.

“Ughhh, Maker you’re impossible sometimes.” Hawke says as she leans her head back with a chuckled groan. Fenris smirks down at her. “At least tell me Merrill is one of the people of importance.”

“Hmmm…” he hums in thought as he scratches his chin, but stopping with a devilish grin as he sees Hawke’s growingly miffed face. “Eh, I suppose.” He shrugs.

“…Lean down for me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lean. Down.” She repeats as she glares at him. Although he glares back in suspicion he stupidly does as he’s told. Once he’s at her eye level she smirks and quickly ruffles his hair, messing it up as well as she can get it before he quickly jerks his head back. “That’s for Merrill!”

“Kaffas woman it was only a jest!” he swears which makes Hawke let out that rowdy laugh that he so enjoys. He can’t help but look at her and begin to grin. “Hmph, satisfied with your dirty work?” he asks as he points at his disheveled snowy white hair.

She looks up as she begins to calm down and then scoffs with a bashful grin. “Hardly! You still look bloody majestic! It’s quite unfair, if my hair gets messed with or is even a little oily it looks dreadful!”

His ears twitch and turn crimson at her compliment. It was never a foreign thing for her to flirt and tell him how attractive she believed him to be, but it always made him flustered. He didn’t believe it himself, but he could not lie, he always enjoyed her flattery.

He shakes off his twitch and carefully strokes his bangs back into place. “Yes well, I don’t think your hair looks dreadful…at least on most occasions.” He swiftly grabs her wrist as her hand darted up trying to mess with his hair once more in retribution for that backhanded compliment.  “Truly though…your hair is rather pleasing to the eye.”

She stops playfully struggling from his grip to meet his soft gaze. “Oh? I always found it rather a boring color. It’s not as lovely as yours.” She mumbles as she twists a bit of her locks around her fingers. “Would have at least liked it to have become black like my father’s…”

Fenris hooks the lock of hair between his gauntlet claws, taking the strands from her and feels it slowly run across his scarred fingertips, sending a chill down Hawke’s back at his boldness. “I think it’s a rather lovely shade of brunette.”

“Thank you…it does match your armor.” She nervously grins and she lightly prods at his leather tunic making him gulp in response.

“Uh, yes it appears so...”

It’s painfully quiet as they timidly gawk at one another. Hawke’s hand rests just above Fenris’s armored chest. She can feel how fast his heart races under her touch but before she can ask if he’s alright, Fenris’s gaze quickly shifts towards the sun that has almost fully set now. It’s disappointing when he looks away but she looks in his direction and sees just how late it has become. They could now hear the crickets beginning to chirp and cool breeze swirled their way, huddling Fenris closer to Hawke for warmth, much to her delight. He still wasn’t fully use to the cold of the Free Marches which makes her wonder if he’d even last a day in Fereldon.

“W-we should hurry back to High Town. It’s scarcely considered safe here during the day, it can only get worse with night fall.”

“True enough…you also seem cold.” She teasingly smirks up at him. He realizes just how close he is too her, as his chest grazing hers and his hand now resting on her shoulder.

He takes his hand away and takes a step back, rubbing his palms across his arms for warmth. “It’s not my fault I wasn’t born with ice in veins like you.”

“Is that a quip on me being a mage or Fereldon born?”

“Hmm, I suppose both works in this case.”  He responds, leaving her rolling her eyes but biting her lip to hid her smile.

“I suppose so. Alright lets head out…Maker mother must be furious.”  Hawke whines like a pup as she picks up her pouch and staff.

“If it helps I can accompany you and explain why you were out so late.” He offers as he also gets his weapon and puts it in its sheath.

“Oh so you can tell my mother I had a mental break down in front of everyone? Yeah, no thank you. Besides I don’t want her upset with you. She likes you and I doubt you wish to break my poor mother’s heart now do you?” she asks, batting her eyes up at him. Lady Leandra could be a bit much at times but he did enjoy being on her good side, even if meant putting up with how she’d pinch his cheeks on occasion, her cooking and kind words were worth it.

“Fair point, still if I can help in any way I’d be happy to for you Hawke. It’s the least I can do to make up for today.”

“You sure you’re not just checking to see if there are any sweets waiting at home for me that you can steal?” Hawke smirks up at him.

“Can both be my intent?” Fenris asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Pfft, sure why not.” She snorts. “Come on sass master, hopefully my mother will go easy on us and I can treat you to whatever in the kitchen and maybe a glass of wine.” She says as she tugs at the top of his breastplate, steering him towards the trail back to Kirkwall.

He bashfully smiles as he stumbles for a second before finding his footing again and stands close to Hawke’s side as they begin to take their long stroll back to the Amell Mansion. “I’ll try not to overstay my welcome.”

Don’t think that’s possible. She thought with a warm smile. “Please I’m sure mother will beg you to take the guest room for the night for your safety.”

“She does know I’ve lived in Hightown longer than even you, right?” he asks in an amused tone.

“And that you can tear a person’s heart out, yet she still insists on coddling you worse than I do.” Hawke says with a shrug.

“Ah, so that’s where you get it from.” He wickedly says knowing this will irk her.

“Oh how dare you.” She gasps, making him giggle at her wide eye and mouth expression.

“Nothing wrong with that, Leandra is a fine woman.”

“I know but I am trying to be my own person you know.” She huffs.

“You are…and I rather enjoy the person I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.” He says as he looks straight forward, not daring to look down at her.

“…You mean that?” peering up at him coyly. It’s too dark to see but he is blushing as he feels her eyes on him.

“Well, you do annoy me the least out of our comrades.” He jests, trying to lighten the heaviness of what he just admitted.

“Oh you know how to make a girl feel special Fenris.” She says sarcastically but does let out a chuckle to show she doesn’t mind him changing the mood back to humorous.

“So I’ve been told.” He shrugs with a smirk that melts quickly. “…but in all seriousness, yes Hawke. I mean it.”

“Ah, good. I uh, have more than enjoyed your companionship…even when you can be a jerk.” She says bumping into him lightly with her elbow.

“I should take offense to that last bit.”

“I could have said far worse.” She states with a wink.

“Lucky me then.” He grins down at her and she smiles brightly back before looking forward. As she looks on he can’t help but glance at her now and then to see if she’s still well. Every time he did, she seemed fine but he wonders if her expression is just a mask to hide her true expression. “Max?”

“Y-yes Fenris?” she looks up with flushed cheeks as she hears her name leave his lips.

“I… am sorry for upsetting you.” He says gloomily.

“I know Fenris…and I’m sorry too.”

“You-“

“I won’t accept yours if you don’t accept mine.” She interrupts as she stops in front of him and holds her index finger up to his face. Fenris may have been stubborn, but Hawke could be as well.

“…As you wish. You are forgiven.” He sighs while rolling his eyes.

“As are you.” She says while booping his nose, making his ears flatten and face scrunch in both annoyance and amusement.  He squints his eyes down at her, making her laugh again before she turns away and begins walking again. She does not catch the smile that grows on his face while he rubs the spot on his nose she had touched when she turns.

By the time they got back to the Amell Mansion, the moon had been illuminating the raven colored sky for quite some time now. As they entered the estate, Hawke’s Mabari, Axel, barked up a storm at their return alerting Lady Leandra her eldest had finally made her way home. She scolded her child while hugging her tightly as Axel bounced around the three of them, begging for his own attention which Fenris heavily sighed and patted the big oaf on the head while he waited for Leandra to be done talking. Once she made her point, she turned happily to Fenris and thanked him for keeping her darling daughter safe, as he always did.

Like Hawke said she would, she insisted Fenris stay, get cleaned up, eat and spend the night if he wanted. He declined staying for too long but could not say no to the chilled apple pie that awaited Hawke’s arrival. Leandra’s only rule was they take the wet washcloths she had ready for them and clean up before they tracked any blood into the rest of the manor.

After they hastily wiped themselves down, Leandra settled them in the kitchen with a big serving of pie, which they thanked her for and with that she kissed her daughter on the head and pinched Fenris's cheek before leaving them be so she could finally get some sleep, no longer having to worry if her last surviving daughter was safe. She was grateful for the friends Maxine had made in Kirkwall, mostly Fenris who her daughter talked about the most.

When Leandra left, Fenris and Hawke sat in the kitchen, eating the cold but delicious pie with a bottle of wine Hawke snuck out of the cellar and enjoyed each other’s company till Hawke’s eyelids began to grow heavy. Seeing that as his cue to leave, he thanked her for hospitality and said he’d make up for the now empty bottle of wine which she graciously declines with a yawn. They say goodnight at the door of the Estate, and Hawke watches him leave till he’s out of sight. When he looks back she gives him a coy wave that he returns with a awkward smile and can’t help but blush when he turns away.

When Hawke awoke the next morning, she came downstairs to her mother saying Fenris came by and dropped off a bottle of Aggregio Pavali.

“Such a sweet lad isn’t he?” he mother said happily as she handed the bottle to her.

“Yeah…” more like stubborn lad…but he is sweet all the same. “He is.”  She finishes as she looks at the bottle and smiles.

[fanonorcanon]

Fenris & F!Hawke

I feel like such a fool. The words left echoes in her head as she sat on the bed the words rung true, but now for her. Hawke sighed and took the shortcut to Darktown from the basement of the estate. The lanterns were unlit but she knocked anyway. 

“Anders? It's Hawke. I was hoping to speak to you. Alone.”

Anders opened the door a crack and ushered her inside.

“Is everything alright? You seem distressed. Are you in need of healing? If you have any lyrium potions we can start right away, otherwise you may have to come back tomorrow,” Anders spoke quickly.

“I think I'm pregnant,” she blurted out.

“Oh, a check up then?” Anders began rolling up his sleeves.

“I don't want to keep it,” she whispered.

“If that is your wish. Have you told anyone else?”

“No, and I'd rather this went no further, Anders. Please,” Hawke said wearily. She felt stretched too thin as it was. Pulled this way and that for the needs of the people, molding herself to their whims and desires. The ‘Champion’ of Kirkwall was not an easy mantle to bear. 

“Not even the father then?” Anders asked while he rooted around making preparations.

“Especially not the father.”

“You'll get no judgements from me, Hawke.”

“Thank you, Anders. You're a very dear friend.”

He smiled warmly then was all business. “Lie down on the exam bed, please? Are you familiar at all with this process?”

She shook her head.

“Ah well, at what I'm assuming is such an early stage it shouldn't be too invasive. I do have to check first for proof that the process is even necessary. Can you unbutton your shirt, please? Skin to skin contact may be better for this, if you don't mind.”

“It's fine,” she murmured.

Anders closed his eyes and laid both hands flat against the area below her navel. It reminded her of the times her father convinced his children that he could divine the location of water. They both had a similar solemn expression. She threw an arm over her face when she felt the tears fill her eyes. Family. It had always meant so much to her. Bethany was in the Circle now and Carver had joined the templars shortly after to watch over their sister. She didn't often like to think about what happened to their mother. It was all too much to bear right now.

“Hawke?” Anders asked, interrupting her rapidly spiraling mood.

“Just be done with it.”

“It can't be undone, are you certain?”

“Yes. And the recipe for witherstalk tea for the road, please,” she sighed. “I'd rather not do this again.” 

“It's a difficult choice for some, I've seen.”

“The alternative is unthinkable. At least for now.”

Hawke righted her clothes and stood up slowly, as Anders had recommended. 

“I appreciate your discretion, Anders, truly.”

“I will always keep your secrets, Hawke,” Anders said. “Are you sure you don't need an escort? It's not an easy thing to walk away from. Physically I mean.” 

“I'll be fine,” Hawke reassured him.

They hugged and she gently made her way to the shortcut back to the estate. By the time she entered the vault she was shivering uncontrollably. And upon reaching the hall, she fell to her knees and swore when she saw a familiar flash of white hair.

“Andrea,” Fenris was at her side as swiftly as he was in battle. He smoothed her hair away from her face. “Are you alright?”

“Just a little under the weather,” she whispered warmly. She caressed his cheek. “You came back.”

“Why are you shivering? Where have you been?” Fenris had been worried for her. She tried not to smile. “If someone has done something to you, they will not live to regret it,” he finished fiercely.

“Can you help me to my room, please? We can talk there, Fenris. Orana, can you please fetch us some tea?”

“Of course Mistress.”

“Just Hawke is fine, Orana,” Andrea huffed with a smile.

“Yes, Lady Hawke,” Orana replied.

Andrea smiled wryly to herself. Though she'd been employing Orana for several months and still the girl insisted on formalities, she could not fault her for it. Fenris guided her to her bedroom with a confidence one could mistake as familiarity. She privately hoped Fenris would be a regular visitor from now on. They sat in silence by the fire until Orana had come and gone.

“Has something happened, Hawke?” Fenris asked.

“I'll be alright, Fenris. Was there a reason for your visit? Not that I'm unhappy to see you! It's uh, it is good to see you. I just didn't think you'd want to-” she sighed. “I'm bad at this. Apologies.”

Fenris frowned but said nothing. 

“You're important to me, Fenris. That will never change. If you… that is, if you wish to not speak of that night please know that I understand.”

“I'd prefer it if you were honest, Hawke.”

“Pardon?” She chuckled, but was confused.

“You're clearly not fine, and I'm not sure why you would lie about it.”

“Oh. Um, it's- I don't want to trouble you.”

“It's more troubling that you refuse to talk about it.”

"I hadn't been feeling quite myself lately so I went to see Anders."

“Are you unwell?" He frowned.

“I'm fine," she lied.

“So you went to see the apostate,” Fenris murmured, mostly to himself. “And what did he have to say about your health?"

“Fit as a fiddle," she huffed out a laugh that was far from genuine.

He nodded. "Then why was it you collapsed in the hallway?"

"I was relieved to see you?" It came out as more of a question than a statement. 

"Hawke, I know that things have… changed between us, but must you shut me out like this?" Fenris implored her.

"I don't wish to talk about it, is all. Everyone has their secrets, Fenris. Even me." Hawke smiled thinly. 

“I see.”

The silence that followed felt uncomfortable, it was the kind they'd shared when they'd only just met. Hawke had flirted clumsily even then.

"Is there something you need help with? You need only ask."

"Not currently."

"You came just to see me?" Hawke asked feigning confidence she was certain she'd never feel again.

"I did," Fenris said, voice low.

Hawke had dropped her tea cup, the contents spilling down the front of her robes. She swore and set the empty cup back on its saucer with a clatter. “Would you like to stay for lunch?” Hawke cleaned the stain and dried her robes with her magic. When she looked up, Fenris was staring at her frowning. “Is there something wrong?”

“Your magic is different now," he murmured.

"Different how?"

"Any magic cast near me ripples the veil, I can always feel it tug at the brands on my skin."

"And my magic no longer does that?"

"Try again? Something small, if you please."

Hawke let a flame dance across her palm and looked up at Fenris hopefully.

"Stop," he ground out.

“I can refrain from using magic in your presence in the future if it makes you uncomfortable, Fenris.” She'd been so cautious in her casting before, relying instead on simple bolts aided by her staff and the occasional healing or barrier spell. 

"Is it blood magic? Not you too," Fenris looked ill at the notion.

"It's not blood magic! After everything with my mother, you think I'd resort to such a thing?" Andrea felt as sick as Fenris looked.

"I can see no other option. What is it if not blood magic? A contract with some demon? Tell me truly, are you still the Hawke I knew?"

"Leave," she choked out. "If all you're here to do is to accuse me- just leave. If you actually need something, perhaps you'll have a cooler head tomorrow." Hawke rubbed at her eyes.

Fenris slammed the door behind him after he'd left.  She should have told him the truth of it. Though telling him after he'd left her that night seemed the worst sort of manipulation. Andrea climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. 

When she awoke it was to Orana's worried cries as she shook her awake. “Mistress, are you alright? Should I call for Messere Anders? Are you unwell?”

“I'll be fine. I promise.” Andrea slipped into unconsciousness longing for a comfort she'd never know; Fenris’ arms around her.

...

“I wonder how Fenris is doing,” Isabela mused. Hawke and the rest of her companions were playing Wicked Grace in her estate, the wine cellar properly raided for such an occasion. “He hasn't been to one of our game nights in some time.”

“I hadn't noticed,” Hawke replied with feigned disinterest.

Sebastian pulled Hawke to the side after everyone had left. “A word, Hawke?”

She nodded and led him to her study.

“So what did you want to discuss, Sebastian? None of our friends are harassing you I hope.”

“No more than usual, and nothing I cannot handle. Instead I thought to ask if you wanted to talk about whatever it is that's bothering you. We can call it confession if you'd like, regardless I swear to keep whatever you say between the two of us.”

“Thank you, Sebastian. That really means a lot to me,” she said while sniffling a little. “Is tonight alright?” She whispered.

“Of course.”

“Where to start,” she chuckled nervously. “I'm in love with Fenris.”

“To an outsider it appears that he feels quite strongly for you as well, Hawke.”

“We were together, intimately, for the first time almost a year ago.” Not that she'd kept track, what a foolish thing to do. “He expressed concern over things moving too fast, that it was too much. Then he left. A few weeks later I'd learned that I was pregnant.”

Sebastian went a bit pale. “Was that before or after you fought with the Arishok?”

“I didn't keep it, suppose it was for the best.” She remembered dangling on the end of the Arishok's blade, the scar spanned from just under her breast to her opposing hip. The wound likely would have snuffed out the life of such a newly formed babe. Sebastian visibly relaxed. “Sometimes I wonder if I could have done something different. Perhaps he would have stayed by my side if I'd said the right thing, if I hadn't asked him to stay the night. Just another regret to add to the long list of my life,” she finished bitterly. 

“We cannot change the past, that much is true. Have you tried speaking to Fenris about it?”

Hawke shook her head. “I can't imagine it's a night he looks on fondly, not any more. I didn't want him to relive it. He'd said he'd regained his memories but that the harder he tried to grasp at them the faster they slipped away like water in an open palm. I can't imagine what that must have been like for him.”

“I could try asking him about his intentions, if that is amenable.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Don't tell me what he says. At this point I'm not sure which would be more disappointing,” Hawke grimaced.

“Even if he responds favorably?”

“Don't push him into things he doesn't want, please. I understand that I haven't been quite the same since, but I would imagine it would only lead to heartbreak for us both.”

“As you say, Hawke.” Sebastian smiled sadly and squeezed her hand before he left.

...

Sebastian waited a week before he paid a visit to Fenris. 

“I simply wish to know what your intentions with Hawke are,” Sebastian repeated.

“And as I've said, it's none of your concern,” Fenris spat.

“Perhaps I intend to woo her, if not I certainly Anders or Isabela, Merrill, perhaps even Aveline finds interest in her. I do recall Cullen staring longingly.”

Fenris averted his gaze but scowled all the same.

“Why do you still wear her favor, Fenris?”

“To remember the night we shared,” he murmured. “I don't expect you to understand. There are things you do not know. I hurt Hawke deeply, I cannot undo the pain I caused her… but it was the best night I've ever known. She's the only good thing that has ever happened to me. I don't wish to forget that.”

Sebastian nodded. “You may be giving her hope. I'm uncertain if that was your intention, but she may think that-”

Fenris cut her favor from his wrist without a word. “Will you leave me in peace now?” 

Sebastian shook his head and stood to leave. “You know where to find me. And by that same measure you know where to find her.”

Fenris growled, his anger spiking. He threw a wine bottle at the wall after Sebastian had shut the door behind him. The sound of breaking glass did little to lift his spirits. Fenris curled the scarlet colored silk around his fingers and kissed it softly. He tucked the fabric away safely in a drawer by his bed. Perhaps it was time to let her go, to let her find happiness elsewhere.

...

Fenris joined the next games night at the Hawke estate. Andrea's eyes drifted to his bare wrist but she said nothing, instead only gave him a weak smile and welcomed him in. 

Fenris had expected to lose some money, but the rest of their group had collectively decided to clean him out. He probably deserved it. To all appearances, he'd toyed with Hawke's heart. All of them were fond of her in one way or another, it was no wonder that they had closed ranks around him. 

“Nothing left to bet, elf?” Varric snarked after Hawke had ventured down to the wine cellar to refresh their supply.

“He doesn't even have a favor to wager with,” Merrill said.

“Shame, that,” Isabela drawled.

“Can't you all just leave it alone?” Fenris growled.

“Why would we do something like that?” Anders asked with a grin.

Sebastian said nothing, he only frowned at Fenris.

“What do you all want me to say?” Fenris spat.

“An apology to her might be nice,” Aveline said.

“You think I haven't?”

“She just looks so sad all the time,” Merrill said.

“And there's the longing glances,” Varric muttered. 

“You'd think he'd get her with child the way he fucks her with his eyes when she isn't looking,” Isabela chuckled.

Sebastian and Anders winced. Doubly so when everyone heard the sound of bottles crashing to the floor.

Hawke stood across the room, looking stricken. She said nothing but retreated into the kitchen to get a mop and broom.

Her companions all looked imploringly at one another. Sebastian nodded and went after her.

Fenris frowned and got up to leave.

“Do you really think leaving is the best idea?” Varric asked with a hand on Fenris’ arm.

“Sebastian is more than equipped to lift her spirits,” Fenris said.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Isabela asked.

“I knew you weren't the sharpest about matters of the heart, but really elf?” Varric sighed.

“He's a better match than I,” Fenris growled, wrenching his arm out of Varric's grasp and left without another word.

“I'd wager a silver she heard that,” Isabela whispered.

“He certainly knows how to put his foot in it. I'll see you all soon,” Aveline said, bid them farewell and left.

“You ready to head home, Daisy?” Varric asked.

Merrill nodded and they departed as well.

“You staying?” Isabela asked Anders.

Anders nodded. “I wanted to speak with Hawke alone.”

Isabela waggled her brows.

“Nothing so lurid as I'm sure you're thinking,” Anders chuckled.

“Well if you feel like a little something lurid, you know where to find me,” Isabela winked and left.

Sebastian led Hawke down onto a bench in the kitchen. 

Andrea sighed but said nothing. 

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked.

“Seems I'm all out of tears,” Hawke said. 

“I wonder what it is you see in him,” Sebastian said with a small grin.

“It's harder to tell everyday, isn't it?” Hawke sighed and smiled.

“To the rest of us, yes, I believe so.”

“I think I should pay him a visit. Get it all sorted out. I'm tired of things being awkward for everyone.”

Sebastian nodded and began to leave.

“Anders? Are you alright? I thought everyone had left.” Sebastian said with raised brows.

“I'd meant to have a word with Hawke but now that I think of it, I should have realized it's a bad time.” Anders said. His cheeks seemed a little pink.

“Do you need someone to escort you home?”

“I'd only be taking the tunnel through Hawke's basement,” Anders said. 

“Are you sure you're alright? You're a bit red. Do you need some water?” 

“I'm fine. I haven't drank that much,” Anders chuckled. “But I won't say no if a handsome man wants to escort me home.”

It was Sebastian's turn to blush. “Shall we leave then?”

...

Hawke stood in front of Fenris’ door. When she finally knocked Fenris answered with his sword drawn.

“Andr- Hawke, what are you doing here?”

“I thought we should talk, may I come in?”

Fenris nodded. Hawke closed the door behind her. She strode further into the house and sat at his table. She noticed her favor on the table.

“You kept it?” She murmured.

Fenris nodded. The silence stretched on for almost an hour until he found the nerve to break it. “What did you want to talk about?”

“It's been awkward for our friends and I didn't want to cause them any further discomfort.”

“That's what this is about? Their discomfort?” He frowned.

“What should it be about?” Her smile lacked its usual mirth.

“I will endeavor to make it less awkward in the future.”

Hawke nodded and stood, taking her favor with her.

“Don't go.” His plea was little more than a whisper. 

“Do I have reason to stay?” 

“I have little to offer you, Andrea. I cannot promise you a comfortable future. All I've ever known is pain and uncertainty. You deserve so much more; love, passion, selfless devotion… but I cannot bear to be without you. I am yours, always.”

She wrapped her arms around him tight and fought back tears she didn't know she had left.

“I was a fool. I should have stayed.”

Andrea nodded, she didn't know what to say. The ache she felt over it in her heart had lessened over time but still stung every now and then. She pulled away and took Fenris' arm. He looked at her, puzzled. She smiled and tied the favor around his wrist. When she finished he pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

"Stay tonight?" He murmured.

"Of course," she replied.

...

They'd been reunited for over a year and in that time much had happened in their lives. But little had happened between them aside from heated kisses in the dark. Andrea didn't want to push him. He'd been through much, she didn't want to dredge up any unpleasant memories with intimacy that Fenris wasn't ready for. She felt tense, her muscles tight. Even the hot water of her bath wasn't helping. She heated the water a bit more with her magic and lay back. Maybe it was time to take her pleasure into her own hands. She caressed her body gently imagining the night all those years ago. Fenris' hands over her skin, his expression reverent and hungry. Andrea spread her legs a bit wider and teased open her lips. She found herself whimpering Fenris' name when she finally came.

Fenris dropped the pile of folded clothes he was carrying when he heard Andrea cry out his name in the throes of her ecstasy. He swore and felt his face and ears go hot. His cock throbbed and strained at the seam of his trousers. Hawke desired him, that much was certain. He refolded the dropped clothes hastily and set them on a table. He snuck into the privy and unlaced his pants. The cool air brought little relief to his hardened length. Fenris swore in Tevene and stroked himself to completion. Her name sat heavy on his tongue but he bit his lip to stifle his cry. The thought of her tender smile all those years ago once he'd been fully seated inside her brought him over the edge.

[pb1138]

A Reunion, Chapter 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

Cassandra didn’t see Varric until the next evening. There were only a handful of people in the Great Hall today, Varric at his table and a few workers redoing some of the flooring. She walked over to him and cleared her throat. “I am surprised to find you alone, Varric.”

He glanced up at her, his quill still scribbling away. “The Inquisitor asked to talk to Hawke about Corypheus.”

“That is most practical.” She hesitated before gesturing at the seat beside him. “May I sit?”

He gestured to it with his unused hand, brow knit in concentration. She sat and allowed him to finish whatever he was working on, which only took a few minutes. Once he set his quill down, he sat back with a sigh and looked at her. “So, can I assume you’re here for more of the story?”

“I could come back later if you—” She started to stand but stopped when Varric held up his hand.

“No, no. This is good actually. Hawke doesn’t like talking about the Deep Roads. It just upsets her.”

“I would imagine it does, if what you told me the first time was true.”

“It was, but there’s a little more to it.”

Xxxx The Deep Roads xxxX

They made good headway into the Roads before they came across a caved-in route. Varric offered the four of them up to find another route, which Bartrand allowed. The rising hostility from him hadn’t escaped neither Varric’s nor Hawke’s notice. As they scouted ahead, she fell back to walk beside him, Fenris and Carver clearing the way ahead of them.

“So Bartrand seems a pleasant fellow.” Her tone was light, cheery, a stark difference than when she speaks to her brother. With Carver, she sounds drained, tired, annoyed, and he can’t say he’d blame her.

He snorted. “Not a word I would’ve chosen. But something’s up. He’s being a bigger ass than usual.”

She sighed wistfully. “Maybe he’s fallen madly in love with me but knows my heart is a prize ne’er obtained, and as such he is acting out in an attempt to distance himself from me and my affable nature.”

Varric chuckled. “The day Bartrand has a pleasant feeling is the day I grow a beard.”

They both snorted, catching the attention of the others. Carver rolled his eyes and pushed ahead, though Fenris’s gaze lingered on Hawke. She didn’t notice, however, as she adjusted her pack on her back. Varric studied the way the elf looked at their friend, and a pang of jealousy hit him. Confusion was fast to replace it, because since when was Varric the jealous type? Since when was he jealous regarding Hawke? Fenris looked back ahead, and Varric settled down, pocketing that new piece of information for detailed study at a later date.

Clearing his throat, he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “So, never, huh? What, is Bartrand not your type?”

“Unfortunately for him, no.” She halted for a moment and leaned down to her hair up into a high ponytail, securing it in place with a red ribbon made of silk. He waited for her, the others not noticing their pause.

“What is, then?”

“Hm?” She looked at him, her exhaustion becoming evident in her eyes. It had been nearly two weeks since they left, and still she had barely slept. Down here in the Deep Roads, she was beginning to look something of a ghost.

He nudged her as they walked. “Your type. What’s your type? Tall, dark, and handsome? Scrawny and stupid? Foreign princes with eyes as clear as ice, jawlines for days, and exotic accents?”

She laughed, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “Maker’s breath, Varric. We’ve spoken to that guy maybe twice! He’s pretty, yeah, but,” she sighed wistfully, her tone lamenting, “he’s married to the Maker. How can I possibly compete with that?” The two of them chuckled, and she took a drink from her canteen. “No, I don’t really have a type if I’m honest. I like anyone and everyone. Just not assholes like Bartrand.” She raised her voice. “I’ve already got one angry shit in my life who won’t leave, I don’t need another.”

Carver scoffed and threw up his middle finger over his shoulder. “I love you, too, sweet sister of mine.”

“Anyone and everyone, huh?” Varric chuckled, nodding thoughtfully. “That explains The Blooming Rose, then.”

“Hey, don’t judge. Serendipity and I have a special bond. She takes care of me.” She laughed once, softly. “But, alas. I’ve no love in my life. There is this one guy I’m pretty interested in, but I don’t think it’ll go anywhere.”

The jealousy was back, stabbing him in the gut. What in the Maker’s name was going on with him? “Oh? What gives you that impression?”

She made a point of trying to look invested in the stalactites hanging overhead. “He’s still hung up on his ex pretty badly.”

His…ex? She couldn’t mean him, could she? His heart fluttered at the thought, but before he could think of a teasingly witty remark, an arrow flew past their heads, and they were thrown into yet another fight against Darkspawn.

Varric hadn’t found another opportunity to continue their conversation, though he certainly hadn’t forgotten it. They’d found a way around pretty easily, the most trouble being a cavern full of dragonlings and a rather large dragon. Hawke had taken a bad hit to the shoulder, and without Anders there, she would have to handle the pain. Even potions weren’t enough to cure it completely, and despite her brave face, everyone seemed to see how badly it was bothering her. They’d started guarding her better, flanking her from all sides, and Fenris even insisted he carry her satchel despite her protestations.

They arrived at the thaig a day later, and nobody knew quite what to make of it. Bartrand was bewildered, confused, and Hawke was mostly in awe. Varric couldn’t blame her. He’d never been in a thaig before, but he’d seen renderings and drawings of them, heard stories.

Bartrand and the hirelings were busy exploring the main cavern, studying the strange red spires and the like.

“Let’s scout ahead, see what else this place might have in store for us.” Hawke shouldered her staff and grinned lazily at her companions.

Fenris frowned. “You are still injured, Hawke. Perhaps it would be best if we remained with the group.”

“Indeed, Sister. The last thing we need is you falling in battle. I’ll not be responsible for telling Mother I let you die.” Carver sneered at his sister.

She sighed and rubbed her face. “I’m fine, honestly. Maker knows I wouldn’t dream of leaving our poor mother at your mercy.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t snip back, surprising them all.

“Well then. Let’s go see what dusty treasures we can find, eh?” Varric beamed at his friends.

On their way out of the main cavern, Hawke stopped and exchanged her random tidbits and treasures for potions from Bodahn. They talked for a while, Bodahn thanking them once again for finding Sandal, and though Hawke was a sarcastic person by nature, she was genuinely polite and almost pleased to speak with them. As they walked away, Hawke patted Sandal on the shoulder and gave him a cocky grin.

They halted at the top of a staircase and pondered the potential of a room not far away. It was pretty much unanimous that there would be nothing of true value, but it was worth a peak. They hadn’t made it more than six or seven steps before some 10 Shades appeared and began to attack them. Varric took up position in front of Hawke to help protect her as her casting was much slower than usual. Fenris and Carver flanked the horde, each of them sparing no expense. Just when it seemed that the fight was nearly over, a statue a few feet to Varric’s left came to life, though neither he nor Hawke seemed to notice it. With one fell sweep of its huge arm, the two of them were thrown against the far wall as if they weighed nothing more than feathers. Fireworks burst in front of Varric’s eyes, and though he could see what was happening before him, the images held no meaning, no significance. It took him a long moment to regain his senses. Fenris and Carver were both fighting with nearly all their strength against the monstrosity, and Varric groaned. It took him another moment to realize there were no spells being cast, no thunderstorms being summoned, no fireballs thrown, nothing.

“Hawke?” He coughed as he sat up, his whole body burning with pain. Panic began to well in him as he looked around, and when he finally spotted her a few feet away, he almost couldn’t breathe. Crawling over to where she lay, he looked her over for injuries. “Hawke?” Her head was bleeding from the back, but she was breathing if barely.

The sound of fighting behind him died out, and within seconds the others were sliding over on their knees to assess their fallen leader. Fenris dug in his satchel and pulled out a potion, ripping the cork out with his teeth. Wordlessly, Varric helped adjust her so she might be able to drink, and Fenris poured the thick liquid down her throat.

“Damnit, Sister, you’d better wake up, or so help me I’ll kill you.” Carver’s fists were clenched at his sides. As much as the two of them hated one another, some small part of them did love the other, somewhere way deep down.

They all waited on bated breath. Over the course of a few minutes, the bleeding stopped, and her breathing evened out. With a collective sigh, they relaxed, and Fenris and Carver both began to tend to their own wounds. Varric stayed by her side and took her hand in his. Under his breath, he sighed, “Always keeping us on edge, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to.” Her voice was weak, as was the smile that ghosted across her face. She turned to look up at him but winced.

“No, don’t move. You’ll just hurt yourself more.” He chuckled, more out of relief than anything else.

She sighed but obliged, dropping her head back to the ground. He helped coax another potion into her, and they watched as Fenris and Carver bickered over the proper way to bind a particular wound. “What a bunch of old biddies,” she whispered. The two of them snickered, and Fenris and Carver both turned to them bewildered which only made them laugh harder. Hawke held her side, obviously in pain, but for some reason that just urged her to laugh harder. Once they settled down, she was nearly crying, but her spirits seemed lifted. They sat in a circle for a while, sharing a loaf of bread among the four of them, Hawke drinking another potion. They talked about small things—what the thaig had in store, how shitty Bartrand is, what they would do with any money they found, and it was peaceful and happy. Even Carver seemed to have pulled the stick out of his ass for a while, and it was almost possible to imagine the two Hawkes as loving siblings. Almost.

Once Hawke felt well enough to walk, they returned to their mission and entered the new section of the thaig. It was remarkably well preserved, barely a scratch in the tall walls. Hawke had taken to using her old staff as a walking cane, a soft “tink” of metal on stone echoing off the walls around them, her newer, fancier staff hanging off her back.

They came to a new antechamber, large, sharp stalactites hanging precariously from the ceiling, a side wall blown through from a cave-in.

“I think there’s a chest or something up those steps.” Hawke gestured with her staff ahead of them and looked at Varric.

He nodded and adjusted Bianca on his back. “I think you just might be right. Let’s go.” He led them up the stairs but paused. It wasn’t a chest. It was a stone slab, and upon it lay an idol of some sort. He walked over to it. “You see what I’m seeing?”

“Is that…lyrium?”

“It doesn’t look like any kind of lyrium I’ve ever seen.” He turned behind him to where his brother had just entered the room. “Look at this, Bartrand. An idol made out of pure lyrium, I think. Could be worth a fortune.”

Batrand whistled. “You could be right. An excellent find.” Something was off in his voice, but Varric thought nothing of it.

Hawke went to pick up the idol and it sparked and glowed beneath her touch. “Not bad. We’ll take a look around, see if there’s anything further in.” Hawke tossed it to Varric, and a strange sensation flowed through his body, a warmth unlike any he’d felt before. Reluctantly, he turned and tossed it to Bartrand, and the warmth was gone.

Bartrand looked at the idol with a strange glint in his eyes and turned towards the door. “You do that,” he growled beneath his breath.

Varric turned back to Hawke and began to say something when she looked towards the door. Her eyes went wide. “The door!” The four of them ran to try to catch the door from closing, Hawke sliding down the banister to make haste, but to no avail. The resounding thud of the stone sliding into place echoed all throughout the chamber.

“Bartrand! It’s shut behind you!” Varric joined Hawke to try to heave the stone back.

From the other side of the door, they could hear Bartrand’s sinister chuckling. “You always did notice everything, Varric.”

Hawke and Varric shared a look, concern written across her face as she leaned on her staff. Bewildered, Varric thumped his fist against the stone. “Are you joking? You’re going to screw over your own brother for a lousy idol?”

“It’s not just the idol! The location of this thaig alone is worth a fortune, and I’m not splitting that three ways.” There was a pause, and for just a moment Varric thought he could hear a sort of ethereal whispering before Bartrand called, “Sorry, Brother.”

“Bartrand!” He punched the door again, voice rising to an angry yell, “BARTRAND!” But he was gone. “I swear I will find that son of a bitch—sorry, Mother—I will kill him!” Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned towards his friends. “Let’s hope there’s a way out of here.”

“Well, we’re in it now. This all part of your plan, Sister?” Carver scowled at Hawke, his arms crossed over his chest.

She scoffed at him, leaning forward on her staff. “Yes, Carver, this was all part of an intricate plan. Cave-ins and injuries and golums and betrayal, yes, absolutely. What, do you want me to apologize for not giving you the program beforehand? Well, just to be clear, I am fully expecting to come across at least a few demons and darkspawn before we reach the surface. Gasp. I know! It’s insane!” She glared daggers at him, hand sparkling where she held herself upright. “I don’t know what it is you want from me, Carver, but go look for it over there.” She gestured with her hand towards the back exit. He shook his head at her, teeth and fists clenched before he spun on his heel and stormed his way up the stairs.

Fenris did better to hide his anger at the situation than Carver had. He turned and followed the younger Hawke with a heavy sigh. Hawke looked down at Varric, her brow knit in concern. She reached over and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Varric. About Bartrand. And Carver, but mostly Bartrand.”

He looked up at her, into her crystal eyes, and part of him softened at the regret he saw there. He patted her hand and did his best to offer her a smile, though he knew it wasn’t quite all there. “No, Bells, I’m sorry. I’m the one who dragged you down here.”

She snorted, and the two of them set off. “Varric, you couldn’t drag me anywhere if you tried.” The two of them shared an empty laugh as they climbed the stairs.

Xxx

The path back to the surface was long, but after the rock wraiths it was almost no problem. In truth, the worst part was carrying all the gold they’d taken. About a week from the surface, they were sitting around a small campfire in a cave off the main road. Fenris had managed to find a small nug warren about an hour ago and now a rather large one was currently roasting over the fire while Fenris sat in the corner, cleaning and salting the carcasses of two others to make jerky.

They were laughing over some joke Varric had told, Hawke holding her healing side. Carver was the first to catch his breath again, and he moved to adjust the nug in the fire. “Garrett would’ve loved that one.” Hawke’s laughter cut out as if he’d punched her. Carver, for once, seemed to realize he said something wrong because he grimaced. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

She didn’t say anything, moving her legs out in front of her. Varric quirked an eyebrow at the newfound tension in the air. Fenris paused and tilted his head. “Who is Garrett?”

“He was—”

“We don’t talk about him.” Hawke cut Carver off sharply, voice steeled.

Carver scowled. “No, we don’t. We never talk about Garrett. And why is that again, Sister?”

The air in the cave dropped to below freezing in the blink of an eye as Hawke’s fists clenched. “Don’t you dare.” Her teeth were grit, fists clenched tightly in her lap, sparks dancing across her fingers.

“Oh, that’s right, because you got him killed. Just like Bethany. It’s all you’re good for, killing everyone who ever loved y—”

In the blink of an eye, Carver had been thrown back against the wall. Hawke was breathing heavily, her hand outstretched from the spell she had just cast. Fenris was standing in front of Carver almost immediately, guarding him from Hawke’s fury.

“Bells—” Varric was reaching out to touch her shoulder but the look she gave him sent an icy chill down his back. He withdrew quickly, and he must have looked at her wrong because shock flashed across her face before pain took over. She clambered to her feet, took her staff, and dashed out the cave.

Fenris looked at Varric, bewildered, before they turned to Carver. “Are you injured?” When Carver shook his head, Fenris scowled, lifting him by the collar. “Then what in the name of the Maker was that?”

Carver scowled back, pushing Fenris away from him. “Why don’t you go ask our glorious leader.”

Varric held his hand up to Fenris and shook his head. “I’ll go. You stay here and guard the idiot, make sure the nug doesn’t burn.”

Fenris nodded back to him, and Varric left after Hawke, Bianca slung on his back. He found her sitting against a derelict staircase, her knees drawn to her chest, tears streaming down her face. When she heard his footsteps, she wiped her eyes and turned her face away from him.

He hesitated, unsure of how to approach her, of what to say. Finally, he walked over and sat beside her, close enough to feel her presence but not to touch her. After a long time, she leaned over so her head was on his shoulder, her arms going around his arm. He worked to keep his breath steady so she was comfortable and reached over to pat her hand on his arm. “I’m here if you want to talk about it,” he whispered.

She shook her head and gripped his sleeve tighter. “N…No. I don’t talk about it…about him.” Her voice fell to barely a whisper, yet somehow it carried enough grief and pain within it to make Varric’s heart shatter. “I can’t.”

“That’s alright, Bells. We can just sit here, yeah?” He laid his cheek upon her head and placed his hand over hers.

They sat like that for a long time, nearing upon an hour before she pulled away from him. It was a slow movement, hesitant, like she didn’t want to let him go. “Thank you, Varric.”

Before he managed to get a word out, she was on her feet, a hand going to her staff. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear—” And there it was, the unmistakable sound of metal against metal, a fight being fought. They shared a look before they were running, staff and Bianca both at the ready. They arrived just in time to see Carver being overwhelmed, Fenris’s skin glowing as he fought off his own small army a ways away.

“Sister!” Carver’s voice was pained as he called from the fray, and she could just barely make him out amongst the Darkspawn.

They sprung into action, Varric knocking bolt after bolt as Belladonna cast vigorously. Their added assistance turned the tide, though the battle was far from easy. It dragged on for far too long, and by the time Fenris struck down the final creature, Carver was sitting against the cave wall, Hawke was leaning on her staff surrounded by lyrium vials, and Varric was making the rounds, pocketing any loot and gathering up the salvageable bolts.

Hawke took another, small vial of lyrium from her belt and downed it, then righted herself and made her way over to Carver. “Fenris, Varric, you guys hurt?” She knelt beside her brother who was clutching at his bleeding side and swatted his hand away to start healing him.

“It’s nothing to concern yourself with, Hawke,” came Fenris’s dour reply.

“Psh, you know it takes more than a few ugly mugs to take me down, Bells.”

Hawke smirked as she finished up dealing with Carver’s injuries then pushed herself to her feet with a pat on his shoulder. It didn’t escape Varric’s notice that she did so with a slight stumble, their time down below the surface clearly beginning to wear on her. She made her way over to Fenris and began healing him despite his protestations, and Varric had to pause to smile at the scene. Much like her namesake, she acted very frequently like a mother bird, and they her children. Her hawklings, as it were. Despite the broody elf’s struggles, she made quick work of healing him, but it obviously took a lot out of her. Her breath came strained, winded as she spoke. “I think we should try to find some more defensible ground for the night to set up camp.”

Fenris nodded solemnly and began picking up some of the heavier bags while Varric set about snuffing out the fire. “I never was one for camping near Darkspawn, anyway. Takes weeks to get the smell out of my hair.”

Hawke snorted as she gathered some of the lighter packs and offered her hand to Carver to help him off the ground. “And goodness knows we can’t have that. Your horde of women will be beside themselves.”

They shared a chuckle while Carver scoffed. “Get a room,” he grumbled.

Hawke’s ear twitched and she side-eyed her brother. His voice sounded…off, and he was carrying himself strangely as though he were still wounded, though she didn’t see any injuries beyond the ones she had already healed.

They pushed further into the Roads and came to a wide cavern and a bridge. Hawke paused to survey the area and a realization hit her.  “This part of the Deep Roads looks familiar.”

“So we’re back where we started, and in only 5 days. Not bad, eh.” Varric seemed overly pleased with their progress. Hawke had to admit, she was also rather impressed. She would be even more impressed if they didn’t still have a week left in their trek, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Think we could…take a break? I feel…wrong.” Carver did, indeed, sound off, but it didn’t quite register as an emergency in Hawke’s mind.

With a teasing tone in her voice, she called back over her shoulder, “I think all our stomachs are a bit tender right now.”

“I’ll wager it was all those dark mushrooms we found.” Hawke could always count on Varric to pick up on her sarcastic remarks.

“No, it’s…”

Hawke turned just in time to see Carver falling to the ground in a crumpled heap. She was quick to dart to his side, packs shrugged off her back as she went. “Carver!”

His face had paled considerably, and his eyes had clouded significantly. His skin was cold to the touch as Hawke cradled his face. “It’s the blight, isn’t it? Just like that templar, Wesley. I’ll be just as dead, just as gone.”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” Coldness had filled Hawke’s veins, her heart pounding in her ears. It was the blight. He was right. But damned if she was going to let this happen again. Not again.

“I’m not going to make it. Not to the surface, not anywhere. It’s getting worse.” Hawke shook her head, tears threatening to spill over her eyes.

Varric came closer to them, his heart aching in his chest. He shared a forlorn look with Fenris before putting his hand on Hawke’s shoulder. “We’re in the middle of nowhere… We can’t help him.” Hawke turned to look up at him, her breath catching in her throat, but he could only offer her a look of shaded pain. Fenris looked similarly hopeless, having set the bags down and standing off to the side, leaning on his sword with his hair in his eyes.

Varric stepped over to Fenris to give them some more privacy, and the two of them walked a short ways away to keep guard.

Hawke was struggling hard to keep it in check, to stop herself from openly weeping. She wouldn’t let her snotty face be the last thing he saw, so she tapped it down. She moved so that she was sitting, his head in her lap. After sucking in a trembling breath, she smiled down at him and stroked his hair. “D’you remember the day you ate that pie that mother made for your birthday?”

A shaky laugh escaped his lips as he nodded. “The peach one?”

“Father nearly whacked you with his staff, made you do the laundry for a whole month and Bethany kept ‘spilling’ things on all her clothes?”

The smile fell from his face. “I miss her so much.”

Tears filled Hawke’s eyes again as she nodded. “Me, too.”

There was a moment of silence before Carver reached up to hold her cheek. “I… I’m sorry. About what I said before. About Garrett.”

She shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek which he brushed away. “There’s nothing to forgive.” Her head tilted back as she looked up at the roof of the cavern, trying to hold back her emotions. “You were right. It was my fault.”

“No.” His voice was surprisingly hard, given how weak he was. She looked back down at him and was surprised to see him scowling. “You had no way to know.” He winced as if something were hurting him and withdrew his hand. She placed a healing spell to his stomach, trying to stave it off. “I would have done the same, Donna.”

She nodded, smoothing his hair back. “Thank you, Carver.”

The light in his eyes was beginning to darken, and he took a raspy breath. His hand weakly found hers. “You’ll do it, won’t you, Sis?”

She swallowed hard, dryly, and managed a trembling whisper. “You always did ask for the world, Carver.”

His hand over hers squeezed, and a faint smile on his lips. “And you always gave it.” He reached up with a trembling hand and put his hand on the back of her neck, drawing her closer to him. Her tears dotted his cheek as they fell from her face. “It’s just you now. Take care of Mother.”

Fenris and Varric heard nothing for several minutes and shared a concerned look. Before they could turn back to see what was happening, they heard a clattering of metal falling on the ground then Hawke sobbing then her sobs quickly turning to shrieks of agony. They turned, then, and tears sprung to Varric’s eyes. She was leaning over him, cradling him to her, his blood pooling around them with a bloody dagger lying on the floor. Varric moved to go to her, to comfort her, but Fenris’s gloved hand on his shoulder halted his steps. He looked back at the broody elf with an expression of shock and agitation, but Fenris only shook his head slightly. Varric looked back at Hawke, his heart throbbing across his entire body, fingers twitching with the desire to hold her, but he knew Fenris was right. She needed some time. So, they turned their backs to her again and gave her the privacy she needed.

It was nearly three hours later that she stirred and lifted Carver’s head from her lap. She rose to her feet and picked up her staff before wordlessly turning around and heading back the direction they’d come. Varric jumped to his feet and cast Fenris a bewildered look before he ran after her. “Hawke!”

She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at the two of them, Fenris rising to his feet with a confused expression on his face. Her voice was barely audible, wrought with pain. “Stay here. With…with him.”

“No, no way, Hawke. I’m not letting you go back in there alone.” He righted Bianca on his shoulder and puffed his chest out, standing his ground.

She stared at him for a long moment with unblinking, puffy eyes before nodding. “Fenris.” She looked past Varric at the elf. “Would you stay?”

Fenris nodded and bowed his head. “Of course, Hawke.”

Without another word or glance, Hawke spun on her heel and stalked off. Varric scrambled after her and fell into step beside her. He watched her out of the corner of his eye but didn’t try to press it. They walked on for a while before coming to a sharp turn which lead them to an abandoned way station they had scavenged earlier. Varric stood in the doorway and watched as she flitted about the room, breaking anything wooden she could lay her hands on, her staff leaning against a wall. After she had a respectable pile in the middle of the floor, she looked over at Varric. “There was a… a wheelbarrow… thing… down the road a ways.”

He raised an eyebrow at her but nodded, pulling Bianca off his back. “Sure thing, Bells.” It took him nearly half an hour to find the wheelbarrow, but thankfully it wasn’t crumbling like the rest of the Roads. The trip back to her took less than 10 minutes since he knew the way to go, but by the time he got to the way station again, the pile had nearly tripled in size. Hawke was leaned over a rather sturdy and heavy looking table and apparently the last piece of furniture in the whole place. From the tracks in the dust, Hawke must’ve been dragging it. Varric cleared his throat to announce his presence, and her shockingly blue eyes snapped to him. “I uh… I got the thing.”

“G… Good. Yes.” She looked down at the table again. “Would you mind loading the pile into it?”

He set his coat and Bianca against a wall and eyed her as he set about the task. “Sure, Bells.”

By the time he had the wheel barrow filled, she had managed to drag the table almost to the door but stopped to catch her breath, sitting on it. Varric walked over to her and leaned against the table, looking up at her. “You wanna talk?”

A long moment of silence stretched between them, so long Varric might’ve given up if it had gone on any longer. “I…” She clenched and unclenched her fists for another minute before taking a shaky breath. “I’ve gotten them all killed.”

Varric frowned and stood up straight, moving so he was directly in front of her. “Hey, no you haven’t.”

She shook her head and stared down at her hands, clenched in her lap. “All of them. Dead. Because of me.”

“Bells.” She didn’t look up at him, so he ripped his gloves off, reached forward, and took her hands in his. “Belladonna. Listen to me.” Her eyes drifted up to his face, filled with pure and utter sorrow. “You are not responsible for this.”

She shook her head and pulled her hands away from his. “You have no idea.” Without another word, and before he could get a word out himself, she slipped off the table and turned her back to him. She dug in her robes for a moment before pulling out her last giant lyrium vial and downing it. Before he could ask what she was doing, her staff was in her hand and she was casting a spell. The table lifted off the ground, and she followed it outside, leaving him in her wake. He watched her go for a moment before gathering his things and pushing the wheelbarrow after her.

They made good time getting back, much to Fenris’s obvious relief. He had taken Carver’s bedroll and covered his body with it, though Hawke seemed not to notice. The table she was magicking over hit the ground hard, and she doubled over, catching her breath. Fenris watched her then quirked his brow at Varric who just shrugged in response. “Hawke?”

She ignored them and took the wheelbarrow from Varric. They just watched as she built the wood up underneath the table, and realization dawned on them. A funeral pyre. Fenris walked over and gently halted her movements. “Hawke. Allow me.” She seemed surprised, but relented, offering him a weak smile.

She walked over to their stuff and started digging before pulling out a canteen and one of her tunics. Varric watched as she ripped a strip from the tunic and poured water on it, but she froze as she turned, facing Carver’s body. The fabric passed between her hands a few times, but neither her eyes nor her legs would budge. “Hawke.” Varric set his stuff down and walked over to her, holding his hand out. “Allow me.” Her eyes flicked to his, tears on the verge of spilling out before she nodded and passed him the cloth.

It wasn’t long before Carver’s body was cleaned up, and Fenris helped Varric carry it onto the table. Hawke watched, unblinking, the look on her face absolute, indescribable pain. The two men came and stood on either side of her, and Varric folded his hands in front of himself. “Do… you wanna say a few words?”

Hawke paused for a minute before she nodded. “I… Yeah. Yeah.” She took a trembling breath and stiffened, as though bracing herself. “Carver was… a tit. The… the thorn in my side. Hardheaded and stupid and just…” Her voice cracked, and she took another moment to steady herself, hiding her face amongst her burgundy curls. “But he was my brother. My baby brother. My responsibility.” Her fists clenched at her side. “H… I’ll… I’ll miss the shi… Him. I’ll miss him. But… Maybe he’s… maybe he’s with Bethany and Father and…” She couldn’t get the final word out, a choking sob breaking off her words. Varric reached for her arm but she flinched away, and no small part of his feelings were hurt by the action. Instead, she pushed forward toward the pyre and pulled two sovreigns from her pocket, placing them on Carver’s eyes. Varric and Fenris watched as she leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead and whisper something in his ear before she stood back. With a wave of her hand, fire sparked in the wood below the table, and Hawke watched as the flames ate their way up to her brother.

They stood in silence for another few minutes before Hawke abruptly turned and began gathering their things. Fenris gave Varric a concerned look before they moved to help, either man taking the majority of the items so Hawke did not have to. By the time they were all loaded up, Hawke was left with just two packs, her staff, and Carver’s maul which she had taken with an almost reverential amount of gentility.

“Let’s get out of this accursed hell.” She held herself strong as she lead the way, though the way she clenched her fist by her side did not escape Varric’s notice.

[red-wardens]

5 Henley Hawke Facts (Part 2)

Part 1: Here

@dickeybbqpit

3.) Out of all my OC’s so far including the actual nobles (Cousland, Aeducan), Henley is best suited for the life of upper society. Besides her love for luxury, and her extensive knowledge of decor and fashion, Henley actually enjoys the stifling parties and petty backstabbing drama. She remembers every lord and lady she’s ever met because it has been crucial to her rise to high society. She’s memorized every lesson Leandra taught her as a girl about dining etiquette, which kind of frock to wear at which event, ball room dancing, and parlor manners. Henley utilizes her reputation, her looks, her style, her lack of a quick temper (I wouldn’t necessarily call it ‘patience’, but she is not  prone to snapping or to outburst of passion. mostly because she’s perpetually unimpressed) and her scathing, but appropriately timed, shade to enthrall rooms. Even if there may be few who actually like her, a majority of the guests at any gathering worth attending are at least intrigued by her. Sebastian tries to not be smug about having "the most interesting woman in the room” on his arm at every event. 

4.) Henley had strong romantic feelings for Varric realized sometime during the long walk back from the Deep Roads Expedition. Other than being her literal only friend (probably ever), out of all her companions he is the only one who just accepts her awfulness for what it is and doesn’t try to make her better (Aveline, Sebastian), try to make her care about a cause she doesn’t (Anders), terribly inconvenience her (Isabela, Merrill, Anders again), or just flat out get on her nerves (Fenris with his brooding, Carver and his surliness). 

During the period between Act 1 and 2 before the Amell Estate is purchased/cleaned/refurnished, she spent a good deal of her spare days with him and many of her nights in his palatial suite trying and failing to sleep (curse her insomnia) so staying up to talk crap about people they mutually dislike or just listen to his stories. Nothing sexual ever happened between them but for a time there was definitely something there. He was the first person she’s ever been in love with (”It was a silly infatuation, Sebastian. Nothing to concern yourself with.. Do not ask again.”) and casually often remarked she would marry him if he ever found a way to become Viscount. 

Guarded as his heart is though at that time, he frequently jokingly reminded her of “Prince Husband” and she would sneer and shake her head, assuring him that Choir Boy would never join their motley crew. By Act 2 though, Sebastian did, and shortly after, Varric betrayed Henley in the Fade. She took it harder than either of them thought she was capable of, and refused to see him at all for weeks (her main party alters: Aveline, Anders, and Sebastian taking Varric’s place. She never took him anywhere again until Act 3). She still hurts bitterly for years about what happened, but after she became Champion she realized she needed someone to talk shit about the nobles she’s been meeting to. She reconciled with Varric over the 3 years between Acts 2 and 3, though most of her time in that span was spent with Sebastian. Though it is never quite the same between them, she still considers Varric her only friend (”Do not give me that look, Sebastian. Husbands do not count. Jealousy is so ugly.”). 

5.) When her mother dies Henley kind of goes off the grid for a while, but it is then that Aveline locks in Henley’s loyalty. She wouldn’t say she was ever particularly fond of Leandra, but by no means did she have a bad relationship with her. Her mother had groomed her to become the lady she needed to be to charm a significant husband and rise back up into nobility. And Henley had never thought she would die on her anytime soon (”How dare she. Without my permission!”). For 2 weeks, Henley refused to leave her room, languishing dramatically in bed with Oranna coming in to bathe and feed her. Though there were never any tears, and she was filled with more bitter loneliness than actual grief, it was a dark time for her. With no committed love interest at the time, Aveline is the first one to come check on her and her concern shocked Henley though she does not show it. Without meaning to, Aveline took Leandra’s place in one of the very limited spaces in Henley’s mean, guarded heart. Though Henley would never call her “friend” or even say she “likes her at all”, if Aveline needs her for something, and it doesn’t terribly inconvenience her, Henley will help out. 

[theharellan]

// Dragon Age Questions

Tagged by: no one but i stole it from @dalathin​ Tagging: @hopewrought, @apocryphorum , @shiftysmugglerlook, @andrastegraced, @felandaristhorns,@deathsreflection,@ghilannainguideme, @snowmcid, @youriinquisitorialness,@nxthero​,@willbeshot, , @ofrevas, @theshirallen, @pentaghasted​, @valorcorrupt​

01) Favourite game of the series? Inquisition, without question. I love all the games but the themes and characters of Inquisition are most important to me.

02) How did you discover Dragon Age? I’ve been playing Bioware games since Jade Empire, although Dragon Age I picked up just b/c it was summer break from university and I was bored, and then I got hooked. I originally wasn’t going to play DA2 b/c it was the same year it came out that I picked up DA:O and it wasn’t getting great reviews. Luckily my dad’s a terrible listener and bought it for me, and unlike the time he bought me AC:Unity despite me saying I didn’t want it, it worked out.

03) How many times you’ve played the games? At least six for DA:I, and then somewhere between 4 and 5 for the other two.

04) Favourite race to play as? Dwarves or elves. I came into the series as dwarf trash and the writing for the elves was rly interesting for this series so I also became elf trash.

05) Favorited class? Mages, except in DA:O where I hate playing anything, but mages the most. Between the spell effects being ugly (why does rock armour look like ur flaking dry skin???) and the AOE effecting everyone even on casual (who decided it was ok to shake the screen THAT MUCH during earthquake) I’m............. not a fan. But I love it in DA2 and DA:I, although in DA:I archer/rogue is a close second.

06) Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time? I make different decisions based upon which character I’m playing. So like, Thora will make the same decisions (with slight divergences like I’ll break up with Thom so I can experience Josie’s romance) and then Ruth, my pro-Templar Inquisitor, will be designed to make different decisions from her. Same goes for my Hawkes and Wardens, although I have a significantly harder time justifying some of the alternate decisions in DA:O/DA2. I let the Dalish clan die in DA:O for one jerk Warden and I’m still like “this is a bit overboard.”

07) Go-to adventuring group? DA:O - Zevran, Alistair, Wynne. DA2 - Carver, Varric or Isabela, Merrill in Act 1 and then after that either Aveline in place of Carver or I’ll take Varric, Isabela, and Merrill just so I have a party that likes one another. For DA:I - Solas, Sera or Cole, Blackwall. Although like with my decisions I vary companions, except for Solas who I keep around even when my Inquisitor is doing everything he hates.

08) Which of your characters did you put the most thought into? Of my PCs, Thora. I don’t tend to develop them much unless I’m writing them, beyond really basic motivations and reasons for their decisions. Since I’ve been writing Thora for a while now tho she’s obviously gotten the most development.

09) Favourite romance? Zevran, probably, which is a shame b/c I’ve only done it once.

10) Have you read any of the comics/books? I’ve read Masked Empire and some of the comic issues.

11) If you read them, which was your favourite book? I rly enjoyed Masked Empire.

12) Favourite DLCs? For its drama, Trespasser. Overall, Mark of the Assassin. I may not like Felicia Day (sue me) but oh my god that DLC is fucking gold.

13) Things that annoy you. In-game uhhh... the writing for Oghren and some banter for Zevran, I’m glad Bioware improved the writing for their more sexual characters b/c the banter with Iron Bull is overall less uncomfortable. At this point tho half the time I’m more annoyed by the fandom and its like relentless negativity or misuse of the word “plot hole.”

14) Orlais or Ferelden? Ferelden.

15) Templars or mages? Mages.

16) If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one? With Wardens, there’s the assumption they died with their origin story if Duncan isn’t there. For my Inquisitors, Thora has a companion verse that I pretend is in effect if I’m playing not-Thora. Obviously Hawkes are a parallel universe. I would not wish four Hawkes onto Carver or Bethany.

17) What did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc) I remember only a couple of my mabari names but uh... Fenrir was one, Butters was another, and then one was just Dog b/c i downloaded the dlc half-way through DA2 and it didn’t let me name it at that point, but it was IC for that Hawke so it fit. Thora has a war nug named Moroc.

18) Have you installed any mods? Yes god. A few key ones are Skip the Fade, giving me Warden armour in DA:O, giving Merrill’s romance armour a scarf so I don’t gotta look at her neck, and then the Bi Solas mod.

19) Did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden? Most didn’t, no. I think the only one with positive feelings about it was my Brosca, whose life was kind of over at that point anyway.

20) Hawke’s personality? My main Hawke (Sylvia) was Purple with some Blue, b/c it’s just not appropriate to joke in front of the Viscount when his son’s body isn’t cold, and after Leandra died she got Redder but still overall Purple. My second most developed Hawke, Leland, was mostly red unless Fenris brought up slavery or he was talking to Merrill. Or Anders. Basically he was just grumpy when he had to talk to strangers.

21) Did you make matching armour for your companions in Inquisition? I sometimes try to match colours, but also have preferences for different characters so don’t always.

22) If your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change? Thora already went back in time and changed one thing, next question. I have no answers for anyone else.

23) Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon? Not particularly, at least not for my PCs, obviously I have some for Solas. At worst Thora’s status as a Beserker is non-canon, but there’s no lore-reason why she couldn’t become one so it’s more that they just didn’t program it.

24) Who did you leave in the Fade? Depending on the pt. Thora leaves behind Alistair and let me tell u I cried a lot. I think I tend towards the Warden in most pts, the only one where I didn’t was my pro-Templar Hawke vs Loghain. Loghain was saved. I actually have only had Stroud once so it’s always been a choice between former companions and Hawke

25) Favourite mount? I like the Wild Hart and the Nuggalope.

[dergonageloser]

The days Hawke spent in forced bedrest were long and dull. Even the books she’d bullied her new guard into fetching —Peige MacGill’Onaidh, what a wonderful name—became a chore to read. Not that it wasn’t a chore in the first place, given that the most interesting of the bunch was the History of Antivan Wines. Fenris might’ve liked that one.

Hawke sighed to herself. Even now, when she could limp around with a hastily-made crutch, she could only think about Fenris. Where was he now, she wondered. Was he hungry? Had he gotten enough sleep? The bitter cold of Ferelden suited him ill, and the constant dampness of the cold ground even more so. While Hawke herself hadn’t felt Ferelden’s chill in some time, the southern winds that tasted of mountains felt to her like she’d taken her first breath in years. But for Fenris, child of the Seheron jungles, the cold leeched his strength and stole the air from his lungs.

She looked across the frozen pond from where she sat upon the rotting pier. Her fingers played along the rough lines of her crutch.

The bed they shared was far too small for two people. But, now, the empty space seemed to swallow her like a cold bath. Bean, at least, made up some of the warmth Fenris had taken with him. But it’s not like Bean could wrap his massive paws around her as they slept, or stroke her hair when he thinks she’s asleep.

Five days, it’s been, and Hawke had already started pining like a maiden and wondering if her husband had enough blankets.

An eager barking drew her attention to Bean, who now slid across the ice with a pup-like glee. He lost his balance, and all four paws flew into the air with a yelp. He shook his head, tail still wagging, and looked back towards Hawke. His tail thumped harder as he let out a bark.

“Absolutely not,” Hawke told him, resting her chin in her hand. “If I fall, I’ll have Serah Adan on my arse. And he’s hardly even a healer. Anders would—”

Hawke clamped her mouth shut as soon as she realized what she’d said. She swallowed back the bitter lump that had been hanging around in her throat the past few days.

Damn him. Over three years since she’d cast him from her life and he could still put a damper on her day.

Hawke shook her head. Her day was already damp. She needn’t let him bother her now.

Her thigh tensed, and a dull throb rippled from the wound. Hawke grimaced and squeezed her hands into fists. It had finally stopped bleeding, but the pain lingered. It wasn’t until after the Kirkwall Incident that she realized how much she’d taken Anders for granted. He was an arse, a fuckwit, and a few shades of spiritually unstable. But no one could ever say he wasn’t the best healer in the Free Marches. Scrapes and bruises lasted minutes under his care, and injuries that normally took weeks to heal were gone within an hour.

And before him, she’d had Bethany. Before Bethany, she’d had their father.

Now, it was just Hawke and her shitty healing spell. She let her hand hover above the wound, brows pulling together in a squint as she focused her magic in her palm. It crackled once, twice. So easily could lightning and fire spark from her fingers, yet it took all of her willpower to turn her magic into something more soothing.

A few careful breaths, and her hand glowed a faint blue. The muscles in her thigh didn’t magically knit together, but the worst of the pain faded, and her body relaxed once more.

Bean, unaware of her inner turmoil, rolled onto his back and wiggled about. His feet kicked to the sky and his tail slapped against the ice as though he were but two years old. Hawke sighed and rested her chin on her palm. “I suppose it’s been a while since you’ve seen ice,” she said. “Kirkwall only ever had muddy slush. Did you miss Ferelden?”

Bean sneezed. His tongue lolled out from his mouth as his lips pulled back into a goofy mabari grin. His tail thumped even harder.

Hawke turned her head to look across the blankets of snow, piling atop the trees like icing. Crisp was the sky, and sharp the wind that brushed through her hair.

When she and Fenris had crossed into Ferelden the first time, and her eyes beheld the vast pine forests and the great mountains far in the distance, she’d turned away to hide the swarm of emotions pushing through. Fenris had surely noticed, as he’d placed a hand on her back to gently guide her away from the docks.

The last of the Amell line, of the Hawke legacy, and she dared return home.

Perhaps, Hawke had thought, perhaps this was her punishment.

A weight on her leg, and Hawke rested her hand on the mabari head that lay there. His feet shifted on the ice, sliding away from him, but he stubbornly held steady.

“Good boy,” Hawke said, scratching behind his ear.

A whisper of boots on the wood behind her. She turned her head, and there approached Leliana, nodding her head in a brief greeting to Peige, who stood guard on the bank. Her feet almost glided across the pier, rivaling even Fenris’ grace.

Hawke turned back to the pond. “I’ve already turned in my report on Corypheus and the Temple of Dumat and what have you.” She leaned back on her hands. “If you want a more detailed version, I’m sure Varric has his lying around somewhere.”

A chuckle, like wind chimes. “That is not what I’m here,” Leliana said, standing next to her. She paused, barely long enough for Hawke to notice. “May I?”

Hawke shrugged and scooted over to make room. Leliana crouched down, letting her legs dangle over the ice.

“Firstly,” Leliana said as she looked out across the pond. “I would like to apologize for the… poor impression I gave you.” She idly fiddled with the hem of her cloak. “I wanted to see what kind of person the Champion of Kirkwall really was.”

Hawke squinted at her, unsure at first what she was talking about. There were several impressions Hawke could think of. Then, she blinked, the memory of the late-night meeting in the Chantry fluttering to mind, when Fenris had yet to wake up and Hawke had been even more short-tempered than usual.

“So you intentionally pressed at my weak spots?” Hawke asked, narrowing her eyes.

Leliana nodded. “More like, I was determining what your weak spots are," she said. "That Fenris is yours speaks quite highly of you." She leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "It’s a little strange to me now, that among proud Ferelden, basic manipulation is considered bad form,” she said. “But when you’ve played the Game as long as I have, it’s merely a survival tactic.” She folded her hands and looked at Hawke. “Still, I apologize.”

Hawke looked away, towards the snowcapped mountains. The glare of the harsh white hurt her eyes. She wasn’t entirely faultless, as her metaphorical hackles were always spring-loaded, like a complex, dwarven trap. Spikes and all. And figures of authority almost always made it worse. Something about her rebellious nature, as her mother would say. It’s entirely possible that Hawke was simply… easily threatened.

But she wouldn’t tell Leliana that.

“Don’t suppose I could ask you to not manipulate me, could I?” Hawke said.

“You could,” Leliana replied. “And I’d try not to. But sometimes it can be beneficial. A commander picks the words that best rallies the troops, after all.”

Hawke hummed. “Then let’s just tack on a sign that says, ‘Manipulate at own risk’.”

Leliana laughed. “I’ll remember to pass the word on to Josephine.”

“Much appreciated.”

A yelp drew Hawke’s attention back to the pond, where Bean had once again flopped to his side. He shook his head and pawed at his ear. Alas, it wasn’t enough to stop him, for barely a heartbeat passed before he carefully got back on all fours.

Hawke watched him play, the corners of her lips twitching. She could almost imagine he was a decade younger, playing with her siblings as they scraped across ice with their handmade skates. Carver had all the elegance of a newborn hart, and he frequently found his feet flying from under him. He had been Bean’s main source of amusement in these moments. Bethany wasn’t much better, truth be told, but at least she could skate backwards for a solid five seconds.

The familiar squeeze in her chest appeared like a friend you only tolerated, but Hawke was surprised to find that it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it once did.

Even more of a surprise, Hawke noticed with a touch of suspicion, was that Leliana still sat next to her.

Hawke suppressed a sigh. “Why else are you here?”

A smile touched Leliana’s cheeks, but faded as her brow pinched just a little. She reached into a pack resting on her hip and withdrew something. Hawke leaned closer, frowning when she recognized the arrow that had pierced her thigh. The wound in question throbbed, and she tightened her fist over it.

“We were able to locate the smith that made this,” Leliana spoke, turning the arrow over in her hands. “Varric was correct, there are only a few that make this specific kind of arrow these days. It’s cheap, a little unorthodox, but effective.” Leliana nodded to her wound. “As you’ve discovered for yourself.”

Hawke’s lips quirked downward. “Alright, so how does that help us? Can the smith remember everyone he sells to?”

A loud thump drew Hawke’s eye for a moment, where Bean was wriggling across the ice like an overjoyed worm. A couple of villagers lingering near the shore pointed at him, their quiet laughter bouncing along the ice.

“There are a few possibilities as to who is behind all this,” Leliana said. “Enemy of the Champion, random bandit, rogue templar—” she held out a hand, bending a finger for each point. “Talking to the blacksmith might help narrow it down a little.”

Hawke slid her jaw to the side. Bean had gotten back to his feet and was trotting to the shore towards the villagers. He bowed in a play gesture, rump wiggling high in the air, though his front paws slid out from under him again. Still, his tail whipped back and forth furiously. The villagers gave him a few claps and tossed him bits of their lunch.

“What will you do,” Hawke asked. “When you figure out who they are?”

Leliana didn’t reply immediately, which was answer enough. More laughter from the shore carried across the pond as the villagers tried to get Bean to catch each toss. Despite his unstable footing, Bean performed admirably, jumping up and snatching the food out of the air.

When Leliana finally spoke, she said only, “We’ll gift them the regards of the Inquisition.”

She really shouldn’t be pushing herself just yet, but Hawke found that she was quickly tiring of Haven. Much too cramped together. Kirkwall had been as well, but its size made up for it. And before that, her family lived on farms with sizeable plots of land—cheap land, but land nonetheless. You had to plan a whole day around actually visiting neighbors.

So here Hawke was, putting space between herself and the eyes of Haven by going on a walk in the forest. A poor, less-than-thoughtful idea on a few fronts. Firstly, there were many, many roots and rocks to trip over—something she’d already achieved at least twice by now. And then, of course—

“If you’re injured or killed by another bandit,” Peige grumbled behind Hawke. “I’ll tell Lady Cassandra this ‘walk’ was your foolish idea.”

Hawke huffed without looking back. “And you wouldn’t be lying, of course,” she said cheerily, knocking a rock out of the way with the butt of her staff. “But be honest, you hardly tried to stop me, a temporary cripple.”

The response was swift and cutting. “’D’ruther fight off bandits than endure your whining.”

Hawke snickered. Varric must have picked Peige as her guard, if this was the sort of back talk she'd be getting. There was something about strong swordsmen—well, swords-women—that made her feel at home. Like she was going to be nagged about noise complaints and destroyed property any moment.

Damn, Hawke missed Aveline.

She paused to lean against a tree for a moment, pretending to adjust the straps holding her bandages together. Really, she just needed a breath. Her last dose of an elfroot poultice had been some time ago. “Well, are you surprised at all?” she asked Peige. “Pretty sure there’s a book about my adventures of foolish endeavors. And yet people are still disappointed.”

Up ahead, Bean buried his nose in a clump of snow, shoveling it around in search of something. He raised his head, and Hawke giggled behind her hand at the snow frosting his muzzle.

“You must not have read it,” Peige replied. She scanned the forest around them as Hawke gathered herself back up. “Varric did well painting you a mighty hero.”

This, Hawke knew. She’d read the earlier versions of his manuscript. Even now she still had trouble deciding if she liked it.

“A reader of his, hm?” Hawke said. “And what are your thoughts?”

Peige didn’t look at her, still searching between the distant trees. “Admittedly, it’s not his best work.”

That startled a laugh out of Hawke.

“I’d imagine not,” she managed, her lips forming a crooked smile. “Everyone prefers the happy endings.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Hawke noticed Peige turn her head in her direction. Hawke decided she wasn’t interested in whatever expression she made. Instead, she pushed herself off the tree, patting Bean on the head as she passed.

Some time later, when the sun had just started sinking towards the horizon, Hawke picked the barest rock she could see and carefully lowered herself down. The entirety of her thigh ached. She brushed her fingers across the bandages, letting a small amount of healing magic seep into the wound.

Peige leaned against a tree, watching Bean stick his nose in some bushes. “We should head back soon,” she said, though her tone suggested it wasn’t so much of a we should as a we will. Hawke wanted to argue, but the thought of propping her leg up on pillows and taking a long doze prodded the back of her mind and she found herself, for once, in agreement.

“Fine,” she replied. She reached into her pack for her water pouch. “I reserve the right to be carried.”

“Denied.”

“Hmph, fair enough.”

Before the mouth of the canteen touched her lips, however, Hawke’s eyes flitted towards movement among the trees. She squinted, lowering the pouch. Bean’s ears twitched, and he lifted his nose to the air, a growl crawling up his throat.

Two soldiers, then another a ways behind them, rushed through the snow-laden underbrush. Hawke scanned the forest, searching. Two, maybe three more soldiers further to the west.

“Ser Peige?” Hawke spoke, bracing her staff into the ground to heave herself up. “In your experience, what does a group of hurried soldiers tell you?”

Peige also had her eyes on her comrades, her hand drifting toward her sword reflexively, brow pinched under her helmet. “Nothing good, my lady.”

Hawke nodded. “My thoughts as well,” she said, pushing from her heel and taking careful strides in the direction of the soldiers.

Peige caught on quickly. “We really shouldn’t—”

“Doing it anyway!”

Before Peige could stop her, Hawke was already picking her way through the trees, with Bean brushing past her legs to lead the way. He let out a few warning barks, just to let the soldiers know he was coming. Hawke tried to make out what they were gawking at, uneasily wiping their brows and pointing at something above eye level. Peige’s heavy footfall was close behind her.

Finally, Hawke pushed past the soldiers, and her stomach fell when she looked up.

“Shit,” she whispered, her hand moving to her mouth.

Strung up in a tree, with bloodied ropes cutting through the skin of his wrists and ankles, was an elf. Blood dripped from his broken nose, from cuts along his arms, neck and torso, forming a dark red stain in the snow below him. There was hardly an uninjured inch of him, from what Hawke could see.

Most alarmingly, his hair was white.

This was not Fenris, she told her heart as it considered bursting from her chest in a fit of panic. There weren’t any markings carved into his skin, and his jaw was much weaker. That didn’t mean it was easy to cast aside the image tearing into her mind. If she squinted, it could resemble him—

Hawke shook her head and turned back to the soldiers. “Do any of you know this man?” she asked, careful to keep her voice steady. She might not have the authoritative bark that Aveline possessed, but people still seemed to snap to attention when she spoke at a certain pitch. Honestly, it was all in the diaphragm.

A mumbling chorus of no’s and shaking heads was the response she got. Still, most of the soldiers were looking at her now. A sigh broke past Hawke’s lips, and she turned to step closer to the elf.

No markings at all, not even Dalish ones. And though the clothes were ripped and stained with blood, they spoke of a commoner, and his worn boots of a farmer. But the Harvest hadn’t been that long ago, so a thriving farmer wouldn’t be as skinny as he was now. At least, in Hawke’s past experience of farming, he would’ve had at least another month or two before the bounties of his crops ran out.

Peige stepped up beside her. “He looks to be a refugee, my lady,” she murmured.

Somehow, that just made it worse.

“He came here to escape bloodshed,” Hawke said. “Oh the irony—”

Hawke stopped short, her heart jumping in her throat. She leaned in, stretched her fingers as close to the man’s mouth as she could. One, two, three heartbeats of silence.

Then, her fingers warmed, just enough.

Hawke whirled around with curses on her tongue. “You blasted fools didn’t even check if he was breathing?!” She gestured sharply at them. “Get him down, now! And you—!” she pointed to one as the rest rushed to the cut the elf’s bindings. “Go find Adan, tell him he has a new patient.” He nodded and broke into a sprint towards the village.

The rest of the soldiers, Peige included, had already managed to cut the ropes and were carefully lowering the elf to the ground. Hawke approached, scanning his body to note each injury. No missing limbs, a good start. No noticeable punctures or gashes around his vital organs. Even the many cuts looked like they’d been strategically placed where he wouldn’t bleed out all at once. Clearly, whoever was behind this wanted the man to endure a long, painful death.

Hawke picked her way through the soldiers—a few of them already making emergency patches—to kneel by his head. His face had been beaten senselessly. It was broken and swollen in so many places, it was doubtful any friends or family would recognize him at first glance—

She paused, her eyes darting to the specks and splashes of white decorating his face and ears. She hadn’t noticed them before. His hair—unnaturally stiff and cracked. She gently took a lock between her fingers. Dry crumbs of white came loose.

“Paint?” Peige echoed Hawke’s thoughts as she looked on.

Hawke nodded, her blood running cold as numb realization budded in her mind.

This wasn’t a random attack. This was a statement.

Someone was after Fenris.  

[vvakarians]

DA 20 Questions

Tagged by @goblin-deity ! Thank you fam! If anyone wants to be tagged consider yourself tagged!

1. Favorite game of the series

Inquisition! It’s the one I started with! It’s an amazing and beautiful game. 

2. How did you discover Dragon Age? 

There was a cosplayer I used to follow here on tumblr that cosplayed as this character named Dorian, and then they cosplayed as Fenris. I looked into both characters because I really liked the designs. From there I checked out the game from the library and fell in love with DAI!

3. How many times have you played the games?

I’ve played DAI too many times to count, I can probably count on my pc, which is a handful of times, otherwise on my ps4 at least 25. DA2 I’ve completed exactly twice, played it four times. DA:O I’ve completed exactly once, but played multiple times, like three times I think.

4. Favorite race to play as?

Elves or qunari!

5. Favorite class?

I absolutely love mages, always have. In DAI I play as a necromancer or knight enchanter, in DA2 I play as a blood mage or a spirit healer. I have a harder time playing as one in Origins, but I usually play as a blood mage or an arcane warrior. Other than that I play as a Double Handed Warrior, usually a Reaver or some other scary subclass lmao.

6. Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions?

In general I usually make the same choices kind of? Mostly because I can’t push myself to ally with the templars. I do edit my canons outside of the actual games, like Calliope allies with the Mages but they do end up saving the templars as well, just after they get to Skyhold. Artemaeus, my city elf who was adopted by the Dalish, sided with the mages but left the templars to fend for themselves (save for Barris who did not deserve to die). Honi, my Adaar, sided with the mages and conscripted the templars, she was pretty harsh on them but decided that both sides could benefit from coming together. In general I haven’t changed my stance on the Grey Wardens, it wasn’t their fault that Clarel had a moment of weakness in being manipulated and I couldn’t find my Inquisitors justifying anger towards them enough to banish them. With Halamshiral I can’t in any way place Celene on the throne, it’s just my personal thing. After reading Masked Empire I said nah. But if ya like her that’s cool. I don’t usually have someone drink from the Well, I considered it with Callie, but I felt that shit could go down from a Solas perspective and I was not about that angst. 

7. Go to adventuring party?

1st World State: Tauriel Mahariel /Ophelia Hawke/ Calliope Lavellan

DAO: Alistair/Zevran or Leliana/Morrigan or Wynne 

DA2 (When I need Anders): Anders/ Aveline/ interchangeable rogue

DA2 (When I need Fenris): Fenris/ Sebastian or Varric / Merrill

DAI (Base Game): Solas/ Sera or Cole/ Iron Bull

DAI (Hakkon): Dorian/ Iron Bull/ Sera or Cole

DAI (Descent): Vivienne/ Iron Bull/ Sera

DAI (Trespasser): Dorian /Iron Bull / Interchangeable rogue

2nd World State: Aviel Tabris / Valentyne Hawke / Honi Adaar

DAO: Alistair / Leliana or Zevran / Wynne

DA2: Anders (or Merrill)/ Isabela / Fenris (or Aveline)

DAI: Dorian (or Vivienne) / Sera / Iron Bull (or Blackwall)

3rd World State: Mah’Vir Surana / Sparrow Hawke / Artemaeus Lavellan

DAO: Zevran / Morrigan / Alistair (or Sten)

DA2: Fenris / Merrill (or Anders) / Interchangeable Rogue

DAI: Dorian (or Solas) / Cole or Sera / Cassandra

8. Which of your characters did you put the most thought into?

Calliope 100%, I put most of the thought into my first world state characters. Tauriel was the easiest to make and her canon hasn’t changed much, same with Ophelia, but all three of my heroes were well, well thought out. I’ve had four or five years of making them under my belt.

9. Favorite romance?

For angst, absolutely Solas. You can’t get much more angsty than that. Other than that my most favorite romance is Fenris’, he’s a character that I love greatly and as a sexual abuse survivor with PTSD I related to him a lot lmao. 

10. Have you read any of the comics/books?

I have all of the books except for Last/First Flight (?), I’m currently reading Masked Empire. I also have the World of Thedas Volume...2? And I have the first Magekiller comic.

11. If you’ve read them, which was your favorite book? 

Masked Empire for sure, it’s because I love Felassan.

12. Favorite DLC’s?

Trespasser or Jaws of Hakkon, I absolutely love the stories in both. I’m also biased towards my favorite of the series/I love killing Dragons. And Veil Quartz, I love Veil Quartz.

13. Things that annoy you?

The fandom mostly. I fucking hate some of y’all shits. I hate the lack of rep too, they did fucking great in DA2 with almost every LI being bisexual. Could have done that with DAI with the straight LI’s but, shrugs. Other than that I don’t hate it much. 

14. Orlais or Ferelden?

Orlais, it has the Emerald Graves and I love big ass trees. 

15. Templars or mages?

Is that even a question? Mages

16.  If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?

I have three separate world states, and then an AU with @trans-aloth . Calliope’s has at least 25 separate oc’s in it because I’m a fucking menace. Other than that they usually stay seperate. Alexx and I combined worldstates with Cianan and Callies for that AU. 

17. What did you name your pets?

I only have names for Calliopes world state pets, but I will def name the rest of the others when I play. 

Tauriel: Kili (mabari)

Cassiopeia: Ser Claws (mabari)

Merielle: Howl (mabari)

Serynn: Athena (mabari)

Fen’Asha: Pluto (mabari)

Ophelia: Willoughby (mabari)

Calliope: Bones (Deepstalker) , Enasalin (Dracolisk) 

18. Have you installed any mods? 

I did way back when I thought my computer could handle it. Still got all of them downloaded but I play primarily on my ps4 or ps3.

19. Did your Warden want to be a Grey Warden? 

Tauriel had accepted the fact that she needed to become a Warden and only was angry about it when Duncan said that it was no place for the children. She managed to convince him to let her take them however. Cassie did not want to become a Warden and fought it tooth and nail, but had nowhere else to go. Serynn had accepted it wholeheartedly, it wasn’t much of an issue. Merielle wanted to get out of the Circle but was difficult in taking the Ritual because she didn’t like the fatality rate. Fen’Asha was also in that same boat and at first saw it as another injustice. 

20. Hawke’s personality? 

Ophelia is a securely purple unless dealing with templars, then it’s Red through and through. Halcyon (their eldest sister) is a Red Hawke, Blue with her family, and Hero is a Blue Hawke, Red with templars.

21. Did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquistion? 

Yes! I usually do! I use a gold/red/black color scheme, so it involves a lot of fucking Dragon Bone. 

22. If your character could go back in time and change one thing what would it be?

Tauriel would have gone back and saved Tamlen. She would have insisted that they look for him and at the very least if they found him they would make him a Grey Warden too. If that wasn’t an option she’d make sure Evra and Krie didn’t get traumatized by the fact their father was killed by a mirror of all things. 

Ophelia would go back in time and watch their mother more closely, or perhaps ask Carver not to go to the Deep Roads with them. Leandra’s death was the hardest thing they ever had to go through aside from handing Carver over to the Grey Wardens. The estate just felt so empty without Leandra. 

Calliope would go back in time and save their best friend from being taken by the templars. But they also realize that things would have been vastly different or the both of them that way. And they also realize that they were pretty young when Isi was taken from the Clan, they wouldn’t have been able to do much. It’s just something that haunts them to this day. 

23. Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?

Calliope is a mage and a warrior, SO I MEAN. Calliope’s home clan is also from Orlais and their mother is a former slave from Tevinter who then went to the Kirkwall Circle after being captured in the Free Marches.Other than that they end up with a First Enchanter that’s an oc of @trans-aloth ‘s. I also have an oc that ends up with Varric, because I have a distaste for the real life Bianca. Tauriel also ends up in a poly relationship with Cassiopeia and Alistair. Other than that, Alistair, Zevran, and several other people are trans. 

24. Who did you leave in the Fade?

Stroud, all three times.

25. Favorite mount?

Dracolisk’s or any of the Harts, I love ugly boys and giant elk.