Nostalgia
"Tell me something about yourself."
Anders’s hands stopped in their tracks. Golden brown eyes glanced up at Garrett, curious about what brought on such a request.
He returned to healing Garrett's wound, brow furrowed as he concentrated on knitting the flesh together. Slowly but surely, the large gash on his arm started to seal closed.
"Like what?" Anders asked. "Have we not been getting to know each other all this time?"
"Well, we have," Garrett said, then added, "in a way. Even then, I feel like so much of you is still a mystery. The Grey Warden thing, I get. The apostate thing, I get. Even the whole merging with Justice thing, I get."
"But...?" Anders trailed off.
"But you don't tell me much about you." Garrett watched him closely, searching for any change in his expression. "I've seen you joke around with the others. Then, as soon as I walk into the room, you get all serious and quiet. You've told me plenty about the mages' plight, which is fine, but I just want to know more, you know?"
"Is that your way of telling me that I need to lighten up?" Anders questioned, head cocked to the side as he peered over at him.
Even after the wound was healed, Anders’s touch lingered on his arm.
Neither one of them tried to move away.
"If that's how you choose to take it." Garrett shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't mind being that guy that you can vent to about your frustrations. I'm glad that you trust me enough to share your concerns; but if I'm right about you —and something is telling me that I am— then there's more to you than you let on."
"Okay, and if there is?"
Garrett leaned in with a roguish grin, dark curls falling into warm, brown eyes.
Anders swallowed thickly.
His heart skipped a beat.
"Then I plan on finding out what."
"Heh," Anders laughed in an attempt to cover up how flustered he was. He dropped Garrett's arm as if his skin was on fire, taking a second to brush his hair back behind his ears. "What a tease you are, Garrett Hawke." After a slight pause, he glanced over at him. "What would you know of me?"
Garrett's grin softened into a smile.
"Oh, that's easy," he hummed. "Favorite color?"
"Red," Anders answered without skipping a beat.
Walking around the clinic, he started to straighten up, cleaning every surface as best as he could while taking inventory of his supplies.
"Really?"
"Yeah." For some reason, Anders felt the need to explain further. "It's a very versatile color. Bold and passionate, dangerous yet warm..."
"I'll have to keep that in mind."
Right.
"Anything else, or was this all just an excuse to find out what my favorite color is?"
Garrett snorted.
"I'm just getting started." He leaned his weight back onto his hands, kicking his legs out from the crate he was sitting on. "Tell me, when you're not out striving for mages' freedom, what do you do in your free time?" Garrett thought it over, then took a guess, not even giving Anders a chance to respond first. "Do you like to write?"
Anders wrinkled his nose.
"Not particularly."
"Seriously?" Garrett blinked owlishly at him. "Huh. Interesting."
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing. It's just that you're so good at it."
Wait, did that mean...
"Garrett Hawke," Anders said, "did you actually read my manifesto?"
"Perhaps." Garrett beamed at him, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Does this mean you'll stop leaving copies all over my estate?"
"Maybe." With his back to Garrett, Anders clutched a pile of clean linens to his chest in an attempt to muffle the pounding of his heart. Anders wouldn't be surprised if Garrett could hear it from across the room. "Maybe I could leave other notes for you to find."
"Now, that's a challenge that I would gladly accept."
"Guess my Circle education is finally paying off," Anders joked. "As for hobbies, though." Anders sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Oh, I don't know. Ever since I last escaped, I can't honestly remember when I've done anything for myself. Back then, I was with the Wardens. After I got away from them, all of my time here has been split between the clinic and the Mage Underground."
"When you're not with me, at least."
"True." He shrugged. "So, yeah. When I'm not playing cards with you lot at The Hanged Man, I don't do much. Pathetic, right?"
"No," Garrett huffed, glaring at him for making that jab at himself. "It means you're dedicated to what you do."
"That's one way of looking at it."
Humming in contemplation, Garrett sat there, deep in thought.
Eventually, he spoke up.
"Well, what would you like to do?"
"Excuse me?"
Garrett rolled his eyes, shaking his head at Anders with a fond smile.
"What would you like to do?" he repeated. "You and Justice?"
"Justice?"
"Is there an echo in here?" Garrett teased. "Yes, you and Justice. Say what you want. You may not 'hear' him, but he must have some kind of influence if you're both two halves of a whole."
"Such a huge simplification of our... arrangement."
"Yet you don't deny it. Come on," Garrett insisted. "The clinic is empty at the moment. I know for certain that today has been a quiet one for the Underground, so let's go have some fun. Alone. Together."
"What do you have in mind?" Anders asked, wary.
"Whatever you want."
Anders considered his options.
Setting the linens aside, the words came to him, unbidden.
"I'd like to go fishing."
At Garrett's surprised look, Anders grimaced.
"My father, he was always a stern man," he explained. A wistful sense of nostalgia settled deep into his bones. "But he was a proud father before my magic manifested."
Anders stared down at his hands, flexing them through the aches from years of healing and spellcasting.
"He used to take me to a lake not far outside of our village. We would take to the docks for hours. I would run around with fistfuls of worms and bugs for bait." Anders scoffed. "Every time I caught something, even if it was just trash, I would get so excited. I could have caught the smallest minnow, and he would brag about how strong I was."
And all it took to destroy that bond was fear.
Anders wouldn't linger on that, though.
"I mean, we don't have to fish, but perhaps we can take a walk down to the docks. Clear our heads a little?" Already, he could see the rhythmic motion of the waves, smell the tang of salt in the air. "Well, if you can sit still for that long."
Garrett chuckled.
Jumping down from his perch, he approached Anders’s position, hesitating before he took his hand into his own.
"For you, I'll try my best."
15 notes
·
View notes
Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: The Days Before
Chapter 43 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3! In which there are... a lot of convos, frankly. Fenris chats with Morrigan, Varric and Hawke, Cullen, Cassandra, and Cole. NEXT WEEK WILL BE ACTION THOUGH, SO THERE’S THAT.
It’s a long one (~9500 words); only the first half here. Read the whole thing on AO3.
**********************
Over the next few days, the Inquisition’s forces began to trickle back through Skyhold’s gates. Bull and the Chargers were the first to return, and Dorian promptly became unavailable for consultation, to Hawke’s delight and Fenris’s utter lack of surprise. Cullen and a squadron of soldiers returned with Samson in chains, and Fenris immediately gave Samson over to Dagna for study. He spent considerable time conferring with the advisors about Corypheus’s potential location and discussing the ongoing political unrest that was blooming across Orlais and Ferelden both in the wake of the Chantry’s disarray.
When he wasn’t in the war room, Fenris spent much of his time, oddly enough, with Morrigan. Despite her dismay at being bound to her ineffable mother’s will, the witch was clearly enjoying the insights that the Vir’Abelasan afforded her, and Fenris forced himself to tolerate her smugness in exchange for the information she was able to provide.
One such piece of information was the fact that each eluvian could theoretically lead to any other existing eluvian. “Imagine the implications,” Morrigan said to Fenris one day as they sat together in the garden pagoda. “Imagine if you could move your entire army across a continent in the space of seconds.” She shook her head in wonder and ran her fingers delicately over the ancient elven tome on her lap. “‘Tis no wonder the ancient elves closed all paths to the crossroads during their internal war. Seal the eluvians, and you prevent an enemy from using them to attack.”
“And yet not all of the eluvians are sealed,” Fenris said shrewdly.
Morrigan raised one sardonic eyebrow. “Clearly, as you have seen yourself.”
He ignored her condescending tone. “Perhaps there was a reason they were not all sealed,” he said flatly. “We know now that elves from those ancient wars have survived. We also know that they have an extremely long memory when it comes to their loyalties. Do you see where I am going with this?”
Morrigan lifted her chin and eyed him appraisingly, so Fenris went on. “Is there a way to reseal the open eluvians? Beyond physically breaking them, that is?” If it was possible to permanently seal all the eluvians, an enormous source of unknown threat would be instantly eliminated.
Unsurprisingly, Morrigan scowled at this suggestion. “The question we should ask is if there is a way to reopen the eluvians that have been sealed!” she exclaimed. “Imagine the mysteries we might recover of the ancient world, if only it were possible to unravel the eluvian network.”
Fenris folded his arms. “Imagine the destruction that could be wrought if the eluvian network fell into the wrong hands,” he retorted.
Morrigan shook her head in disgust. “Always so cautious, Inquisitor. I wonder at times how you have achieved such daring feats when you guard yourself so preciously.”
Fenris narrowed his eyes. Despite his best efforts, his ire was starting to grow. “You will not let this lie, will you?” he demanded. “This is what you’re going to use those cursed voices to learn. You’re going to try to–”
“Mother!” Kieran’s cheerful voice called out from across the garden, and Fenris and Morrigan both looked up as he approached.
Kieran was carrying a laden tray in his hands, and he bowed politely as he entered the pagoda. “Mother. Inquisitor,” he said politely. “Would you like some apple pie?”
A bolt of amusement softened Fenris’s anger. As polite as ever, he thought. Kieran really did behave like a small adult at times.
“Thank you,” he said, and he took one plate of pie from the tray.
Morrigan smiled at her son and took the second plate. She took a delicate bite of pie, then looked at Kieran with wide eyes. “This is very good,” she said.
“I helped the cook to make it,” Kieran said excitedly. “I didn’t make a single mistake. She didn’t even smack my hand with the ladle like she does to Hawke!”
Fenris snorted softly – Hawke never had been the best cook, it was true – and Morrigan nodded approvingly. “Very well done, Kieran. Be sure to thank the cook for her instruction.”
“I will,” Kieran said happily. He bowed to Fenris once more, then turned and scurried back to the castle.
Morrigan and Fenris ate in silence for a moment before Morrigan spoke again. “You believe that seeking knowledge is akin to seeking power, but allow me to dispel you of that absolutist notion. There is something to be said for curiosity, Inquisitor. True curiosity – learning for the sheer joy of mastery.”
Fenris scowled as he munched his pie. Morrigan thought he was rigid and closed-minded, but she was wrong; Fenris did like to learn new things, and he read as much as he could when he had the time. It wasn’t the learning or the knowledge per se that bothered him. It was the intentions of the learner that he took issue with.
But… Morrigan had been with the Inquisition for months, and she hadn’t done any harm in her time here. She hadn’t made any attempts to escape Skyhold since Flemeth’s unprecedented visit a couple of days ago. And if Fenris was really being honest, Morrigan’s intentions weren’t really what worried him the most – not anymore.
What disturbed him most were the implications of the new knowledge they were gaining. Everything that Fenris learned these days seemed to disrupt his understanding of the world and himself. The fact that Tranquility could be reversed, that lyrium was alive in some capacity, that vallaslin were slave markings, that an ancient elven goddess existed at all… Everything they learned just seemed to lead to more questions, and it seemed impossible nowadays to learn anything that didn’t give Fenris an instantaneous sense of vertigo about just how much he still didn’t know.
On that note, there was another headache-inducing issue that required his attention. He sighed quietly as he chewed his final bite of pie, then placed his empty plate on the bench and rose to his feet. “I need to deal with something else,” he told Morrigan. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he gestured at the tome on her lap. “Thank you,” he said grudgingly. “For the information.”
“‘Tis my duty to share what I know, Inquisitor,” she said coolly. She didn’t look at him, but her shoulders relaxed slightly.
Fenris turned away from her and headed for the Great Hall to find Varric. As he made his way through the garden and up the stairs, he tried to ignore the jittering nerves in his belly.
When he stepped into the Great Hall, it was to find Varric and Hawke in Varric’s usual spot by one of the fireplaces. Hawke was sitting on the carpet while Varric sorted through the mountain of mail on the table, and every time Varric handed an envelope to Hawke, she immediately chucked it into the fire.
Fenris relaxed. He was glad Hawke was here, actually. It would make this conversation more bearable.
Varric looked up with a smile as Fenris drew close. “Hey. Care to join us?” He tossed Fenris an envelope.
Fenris caught the envelope smoothly. “Of course. I wouldn’t spurn a time-honoured tradition.” He seated himself beside Hawke on the carpet, then tossed the piece of mail into the hearth.
She smiled and leaned against his shoulder, and he glanced at the rotunda and lowered his voice before speaking. “Have you discovered anything new?” he asked.
“It’s okay, we can talk,” she said at a normal volume. “He’s taking a Fade nap in one of the quieter corners of the castle.”
“Ah. Good.” Fenris raised his eyebrows. “So…?”
She shrugged. “I was just telling Varric, I’ve learned a whole lot of stuff about the elven gods. Merrill would be proud of me if she were here.” She chuckled. “He lent me all the books he had about the elven gods by both the Dalish and the Chantry, and Maker, the shit the Chantry has twisted–”
Varric interrupted. “She asked Chuckles if he was a spirit.” He handed Hawke another piece of junk mail.
Fenris looked at her avidly. “And? What did he say?”
Hawke sighed and started idly tearing the envelope into pieces. “He asked me why I would think that. And I told him what Dorian said – he understands Cole so well, and he loves spirits and the Fade and all that. And he was all, ‘do you not think it is possible to love and understand a being who is unlike yourself?’” She threw the pieces of envelope into the fireplace. “And I mean, he’s not wrong, so… shit, I don’t know.” She grimaced at Fenris. “I think the answer was no, but I’m not sure.”
“Venhedis,” he muttered. He ran a hand through his hair and looked ruefully at Varric. “At what point shall we start accepting his incessant sidestepping as confirmation instead?”
Varric made a little face, and Hawke shrugged before tossing the remainder of the envelope into the fireplace. “His new mural looks great, though. I asked him how he learned to paint like that, and he started showing me the process. It’s actually really interesting!”
Her tone was cheerful and bright, and she wasn’t looking at either him or Varric. Fenris peered at her quizzically, and she glanced at him before letting out a little laugh. “What? You know I’ve always wanted to be an artist. Too bad there’s not a creative bone in this fine body of mine.”
A bubble of worry swelled in his belly. Hawke was doing her avoiding-and-humour routine – the same routine she used to pull when Fenris hassled her about Merrill and Anders.
He tilted his head closer to hers. “Is there something you are not telling me?” he said quietly.
She gave him a stricken look. “No. Of course not. I wouldn’t… you don’t actually think I would hide something from you?”
An image of her standing in the Well of Sorrows rose to his mind. He hastily shunted it aside. “No,” he said calmly. “But if you have concerns, you should share them.”
She gazed at him in silence for a second, then reached up and ran her thumb over his eyebrow. “What about you? You looked like thunder when you first came through the door. What’s on your mind?”
He gazed at her in exasperation for a moment, but her tone and expression were determinedly cheerful. And unfortunately, she wasn’t wrong; he had come to speak with Varric, not with her.
He sighed and put aside his Solas-related concerns for now, then rose to his feet and looked at Varric. “Are you busy at the moment?”
Varric raised his eyebrows. “Extremely busy, obviously,” he said with a wave at his table full of mail. “But I can spare some time for you. What do you need?”
“A favour, unfortunately,” Fenris said. “Can I speak with you in private?”
Varric raised his eyebrows, but rose from his chair. “A favour, huh? So you’re not kicking me out of the Inquisition?”
Fenris smirked faintly. “Only if you have been embezzling. We are suspiciously low on funds for Orlesian confectionery.” He turned to Hawke and gave her a meaningful look. “Will you join us?”
Her eyes widened. “Of course,” she said, and she rose to her feet as well and took his hand. Together, the three of them made their way to Fenris and Hawke’s quarters.
Once they were in the bedroom, Varric folded his arms and gave them an expectant look. “All right, you two are making me nervous. What’s going on?”
Fenris glanced at Hawke, who had seated herself cross-legged on the bed. She nodded in encouragement, and Fenris turned back to Varric.
“Hawke and I have been studying lyrium,” he said. “What it is, why it does the seemingly contradictory things it does. Or… we have been trying, but we have not gotten far. Dagna has told us what she could, but it… wasn’t much.” In truth, Dagna’s talk about lyrium had been more incomprehensible than Cole’s.
Hawke spoke up from her spot on the bed. “It seems like lyrium has something to do with dwarves.”
Varric raised his eyebrows. “You needed Strawberry to figure that out?”
Hawke blinked at him, then grinned. “Your nickname for Dagna is Strawberry?”
Varric waved a dismissive hand. “Red hair, pale skin, sweet kid. You get the picture.”
Hawke laughed, but Fenris doggedly pressed on. “What Hawke means is that the link between dwarves and lyrium is more than simply mining. There is something more… inherent about the connection. But we’re not clear on what the connection is.”
Varric gave Fenris a flat look. “Is this where you ask me if I have a special dwarven sixth sense for lyrium that I never told you about?”
Hawke snorted, and Fenris tsked in annoyance. “No. This is where I ask if you’ll write to Bianca on my behalf.”
Varric raised his eyebrows, and Fenris pushed on despite his growing nerves. “I was wondering if you might ask her if she and Dagna would consider working together. They are the two most qualified people I can think of.”
Varric shrugged. “Uh, yeah, sure. She’s not at her workshop, though. She’s in Emprise du Lion.” He tugged one of his earrings.
On the bed, Hawke straightened up. “What? Why?”
“She’s studying the red lyrium there,” he said. “Trying to see if they can eliminate it. It’s really bad there, remember?”
“She’s trying to help get rid of it?” Hawke said in obvious surprise.
Varric shot her a chiding look. “She’s not all brass and salt, Hawke. Give her a little credit.”
Hawke slapped a hand over her mouth. “Balls,” she said, and she pulled an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry, Varric, I don’t mean to be such a bitch about her, I just–”
“I know,” Varric said in a softer tone. “Don’t worry about it.” He looked up at Fenris once more. “But why are you so interested in lyrium all of a sudden?”
Fenris’s gut twisted. This was the part of this conversation he’d been dreading. He took a deep breath. “I want to know more about the substance that’s been forced under my skin,” he said. “The more I don’t know about it, the more it revolts me. And to think it’s alive?” He swallowed and looked at lines on the backs of his hands. “The questions this has raised… their itch is worse than the scars that these cursed marks left behind.” He looked Varric in the eye. “I need to know what I am dealing with.”
Varric’s expression was very serious. “All right,” he said. “Any specific question you want to ask her, though? Lyrium is a big topic.”
Fenris glanced at Hawke’s warm and loving face, then turned to Varric again. “I want to know why lyrium infusions have different effects for mages and Templars. It does not make sense that the same infusion has such different effects.”
“All right,” Varric said. “And is there a specific reason you want to know that? Maybe relating to why you two keep looking at each other?” He jerked his chin at Hawke.
Kaffas, Fenris thought. His pulse was racing now. He looked at Hawke again.
“Yeah, like that,” Varric said dryly.
Hawke slid off of the bed and padded toward Fenris, and he turned back to Varric and took another bracing breath. “Solas told me something some time ago. About my… these marks. He said using the marks entails using magic.”
Varric tilted his head curiously. “So those tattoos are magic after all?”
Hawke took Fenris’s hand and squeezed it. Fenris swallowed hard. “Yes,” he said. “They contain magic. Magic that was… that is… mine.”
Varric gazed at him in bemusement for a second. Then his eyes grew huge. “Shit. Andraste’s ass,” he breathed. “You’re a mage?”
“I was,” Fenris said quickly. “Now the magic is… it is contained in these marks.”
Varric continued to stare at him, and Fenris could feel his scarred skin crawling with discomfort. Varric was the least judgmental person he knew, but this confession was so damned difficult to make, and his origins as a mage made him such a terrible hypocrite…
Varric interrupted his frantic thoughts. “That’s why you were tired after fighting those Sentinels, isn’t it? You were getting overextended.”
Hawke replied for him. “I think he was, yes,” she said. “And I want to know what would happen if he took a lyrium potion. Theoretically it seems like it might help, but we’re not willing to risk it going wrong.”
Varric huffed. “That makes sense. Let’s not accidentally poison the elf here.”
Fenris’s shoulders loosened slightly at the joke, and Hawke smiled. “Exactly. I’m a little bit fond of this handsome elf, in case you didn’t notice.”
Varric snorted in amusement. Then he patted Fenris’s elbow. “Sorry, buddy,” he said softly. “That must’ve been, uh, something to hear.”
“You could say that,” Fenris said wryly. Truthfully, the knowledge that he was once a mage was the most jarring thing Fenris had learned since all of this chaos had begun.
Varric studied him for a second, then tucked his thumbs in his pockets. “Well, lucky for me that this doesn’t have to change anything in my novel. Lyrium tattoos is all my readers need to know. I like to keep things a mystery – keeps them coming back for the sequel, you know?”
At this, Fenris relaxed completely. The subtext of Varric’s words was clear: this new revelation had not changed Varric’s opinion of him, and it would remain private between himself, Hawke, and Varric.
Fenris sighed. “Thank you, my friend,” he said softly.
Varric chuckled. “Ah, don’t thank me yet. When you start getting fifty-page-long reports from Bianca, you’ll be less than thankful.”
That is not what I meant, Fenris thought, but he simply smiled. After all, Varric knew that wasn’t what he’d meant, either.
Hawke squeezed Fenris’s hand once more, then released him and elbowed Varric. “Is she as good a writer as you are? If that’s the case, then those reports will be a pleasure to read.”
Varric smirked. “Actually, she’s not. That’s the one thing I’m better at than her. That and penmanship. Her handwriting looks like a one-toed wyvern writing with its left hand.”
“Hey,” Hawke protested. “I resent that on behalf of all left-handed people.”
Varric chuckled, and they made their way back downstairs. Once they were back in the Great Hall, Varric glanced at his table and sighed. “Well, I’d better get back to my mail. Aveline and Bran keep sending me letters. You can practically hear the yelling matches in their handwriting.” He smirked at Fenris and Hawke. “It’s some great drama, I have to admit. Inspirational, even.”
Hawke gave him a shrewd look. “They’ve been writing you a lot. Is there something you wanted to tell us?”
He shrugged. “Nah, not really. I’ve just been donating some coin to the repair efforts back home, that’s all.”
Fenris raised his eyebrows. “You have?”
Varric shot him a sardonic look. “Hey, I had a lot of funds from the Deep Roads. And from other things.”
Fenris smirked at his innocent tone, and Hawke laughed out loud. “You’re still running smuggling routes in Kirkwall? Really?”
Varric tutted. “Hey, just because there’s an undead magister trying to kill us doesn’t mean the whole world comes to a stop.”
“It sort of does, in fact,” Fenris drawled.
Varric chuckled. “Tell that to the wedding you guys had a couple months ago.”
Fenris shrugged affably. “Fair enough.”
Varric smiled at him, then folded his arms. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Aveline about the dirty money. She’s delighted to get some funding for clearing out the docks.” Then he looked up at Hawke. “What’s up?”
Fenris looked at Hawke as well. She was studying Varric with a distinctly hangdog expression. “You’re leaving us after Corypheus is dead, aren’t you?” she asked plaintively.
Varric raised his eyebrows. “What? No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not right away, at least.”
Hawke’s face fell even further, and Varric patted her elbow. “Hey now, don’t make that face. You two could come too.” He cocked his head at her. “You know your mansion is still standing? It’s… well, it’s a total mess, but it’s still there. And technically still yours. A few months of renovations and it would be livable again.”
Hawke wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Varric. You want us to come back, don’t you?”
Varric rubbed his nose. “Look, I’m just pointing out that you have options. And I mean… honestly, Kirkwall is pretty boring without you guys.” He glanced at Fenris.
Fenris managed a smile, but he couldn’t reply. His chest suddenly felt very heavy. He hadn’t forgotten what Solas had said before: that Corypheus’s death wouldn’t mean the end of the decisions Fenris was being asked to make. The Chantry was still in disarray, and Josephine wouldn’t always be able to hold off the countless Chantry sisters and clerics and political parties who were demanding the Inquisition’s input or support.
Oblivious to his thoughts, Hawke was still hugging Varric. Varric chuckled and patted her arm. “Ah come on, no need to strangle me.”
“I’m not,” she said, and she hugged him harder still. “I’m just hugging my most-loved and favourite friend.”
“I know, I know,” Varric said airily. “I’m the smartest man in Thedas and the most handsome dwarf you’ve ever seen.”
She gasped dramatically and released him. “And you can read my mind! Maker’s balls, talk about hidden talents.”
Varric chuckled, and Hawke slung her arms around Fenris’s waist and Varric’s neck. “Forget your mail for now. Let’s go to the tavern for some lunch, just the three of us. What do you say?”
“All right, all right, twist my arm,” Varric said. “I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes. Let me actually read some of this mail before I start slacking off.”
Hawke and Fenris left Varric to his mail, and as they left the Great Hall, Hawke took his hand. “So Dorian’s going back to Tevinter, and Varric’s going back to Kirkwall eventually. What do you think everyone else will do when Corypheus is dead?”
Fenris shrugged somewhat listlessly. “Cassandra and Leliana will certainly stay with the Inquisition. Unless one of them gets called to become the next Divine, that is. Cullen will remain. Sera and Blackwall will also likely–”
“Fenris,” Hawke said, “should we go back to Kirkwall?”
He looked at her. Her expression was so open and curious, and his heavy heart gave a dull thump.
I might not have that choice, he thought. The countless advisor meetings in the war room weighed heavy on his mind. As time had gone on, the decisions he’d been forced to make had become less about Corypheus and more about politics, and Fenris had long stopped arguing with Leliana and Josephine that he wasn’t qualified to make those decisions.
Somehow, the Inquisition had become the force that many parties across Thedas came to for political backing or peacekeeping, and as much as Fenris disliked it, he wasn’t sure that he had the choice to simply leave it all behind.
The sad truth was this: the more Fenris thought about leaving the Inquisition after Corypheus was defeated, the more he doubted that he would actually be able to leave.
He swallowed. There was no harm in indulging Hawke’s question, even if it was… unrealistic. “I’m not sure,” he said slowly. “Would you want to go back?” He remembered this topic coming up a few months ago in another conversation with Varric, but he and Hawke had never actually talked about it further. He was fairly sure that she would want to go back to Kirkwall if they had the choice, but when she didn’t reply right away, he looked at her in surprise.
She winced. “Honestly… I don’t know. I wonder if everyone still hates me there for supposedly helping to blow up the Chantry?” She laughed lightly. “I still think it’s funny that they think I played a part in that. I mean, I’m a heathen and I like a bonfire as much as the next girl, but I’m not that extreme.”
Fenris tried for a smile, but his heart felt too leaden. He squeezed her hand instead, and she squeezed his fingers in turn before speaking again. “It might feel strange if we went back. Things are so different now. And it wouldn’t be the same without…” She trailed off, but Fenris knew who she was thinking of.
Carver. Hawke had only seen her brother once a month or so during their years in Kirkwall, but he had always just been a short boat ride away at the Gallows.
And now Carver was forever beyond her reach.
They walked in silence toward the tavern for a moment. Then Hawke smiled at him. “It would be nice to be near Varric again, though.”
Her voice was stubbornly cheerful. Fenris’s chest swelled with a nearly-painful throb of affection. “This is true,” he said gently. “And we would be near Aveline and Donnic again. It’s certainly an easier visit for Isabela, as well.”
Hawke’s smile broadened, and she released his hand to loop her arm around his waist instead. But as they approached the tavern, Fenris couldn’t help but recall the occasional wistful conversations they’d had about a life where they hadn’t been sucked into the Inquisition. And as it often did, the fantasy of a little house on the beach in Rivain crossed his mind.
He recognized the irony of this idle imagining. He never thought he would be wistful for the days when it was just himself and Hawke hiding from the Templars and the Chantry. But sometimes, in the moments when he grew tired of the politicking and the decisions and the constant talking, Fenris would fantasize about settling somewhere new with Hawke alone – somewhere where they could have a completely fresh start without the mantles of their reputations weighing them down.
But Hawke wasn’t like him. She loved company and friends, and despite her doubts about returning to Kirkwall, she would most certainly be happier if she were closer to the people she considered family.
She looked up at him. “Fenris, do you remember the conversation we had right after they made you the Inquisitor? We were on the battlements, and we talked about, um… I know we were just kidding around, but–”
He looked at her sharply. “The Rivaini beach house,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “Yes!” she said. “Exactly.”
He stared at her in wonder with his heart in his throat. Her eyes were bright with incredulity, but as he watched, a beautiful smile bloomed across her face. And in this perfect moment in time, Fenris knew without a doubt that he and Hawke were thinking the exact same fanciful thought.
In this moment, Fenris felt so in sync with her – so much in tune with the thoughts going through her mind and the thrumming of her pulse that he thought his heart might burst. He stared into her eyes, and in their honey-coloured depths, he could see a perfect picture of the ideal: a small but cozy cabin steps away from the sandy shore. A cozy little home in a place that was warm throughout the year, so Toby could run around without his knees getting stiff. Somewhere safe and peaceful where he and Hawke were unknowns. Where maybe, if Hawke was willing, they might consider adding another element of chaos to their lives: another tiny person, perhaps…?
Fenris gazed breathlessly into Hawke’s coppery eyes and admired the beautiful fantasies that were dancing there. When she lifted herself onto her toes and kissed him, he kissed her back with an aching heart. And for a blissful, carefree moment, they stood wrapped in each other’s arms and fantasized about the sort of shining, peaceful, idyllic life that they had never had.
Read the second half on AO3!
12 notes
·
View notes
(1/2) Hey! I'm getting ready to do a new playthrough and have a question. When are the suggested times and/or best times to play through all the DLC from a story perspective? (DLC with set timing like Trespasser and the post-game Origins stuff excluded.) I don't care about optimal levels or best loot, I'm just trying to squeeze the most of them all story-wise.
(2/2) So far I’m thinking I’ll start Stone Prisoner when I’m doing my Redcliffe quests and finish it when I’m doing Orzammar. Return to Ostagar maybe after I finish my first main quest. Mark of the Assassin at the start of Act III. Exiled Prince as it becomes available. Do those sound like good plans so far? Not sure about Warden’s Keep, Legacy, and Last Descent. (I think that’s all of them.) Thanks for your time!
Alright, finally rewritten. I thought I had a DLC post like this, but could not find it. So whole new post!
DAO
The Stone Prisoner
If Redcliffe is your first quest, doing The Stone Prisoner afterwards sounds great (I always do The Circle first myself). Since the first quest in The Stone Prisoner is Shale’s recruitment, you want her as soon as possible so you have the option of dragging her around to work on her approval. Plus get some of her dialogues and friendship cutscenes.
I would recommend just making sure to do Shale’s recruitment before doing A Paragon of Her Kind, since you can take her along during that quest and get some great insight into her story. Just be sure to be ready to make some Hard Choices™.
If you find your team unbalanced by taking Shale through the Deep Roads though how could you lol, you really only have to take her in the final area of the Deep Roads to unlock her extra dialogue.
The last quest should come after A Paragon of Her Kind, even if you didn’t take Shale with you. So just be ready to work that in later in the game.
Warden’s Keep
Warden’s Keep doesn’t really have a place it specifically fits, it is mostly just standalone Warden Lore. If your aren’t interested in Levelling and Equipment, it is pretty much just up to you when you play.
I’d probably say play it two allied factions into the game (Elves/Werewolves, Redcliffe, Dwarves/Golems, Mages/Templars) for pacing.
Return to Ostagar
Now Return to Ostagar is probably best played after The Landsmeet, seeing as the Warden is not longer considered an enemy of Ferelden. So it’d make more sense for them to return and collect the things of the Fallen, as well as clear the location since the Darkspawn have started to move out.
This is especially true if you plan on using the “Secret Companion” aka Loghain. He has some incredibly fascinating dialogue during the quest and of course can only be recruited after The Landsmeet.
However, if you plan on using Alistair then I’d say before or after the Landsmeet would work. Or if you want to suffer from feels then after you give Alistair Duncan’s shield, is an excellent time to punish yourself by returning to where his mentor sacrificed himself.
And I know you said Post-Game DLC not included, but just for anyone else or if I do link this again. Witch Hunt is considered the Final DLC for DAO/DA:A.
DA2
Mark of the Assassin
MotA is another DLC that doesn’t have a specific time that it needs to be played. Which the great thing about DA2 DLCs specifically is the content in them changes from Act to Act.
That said, the beginning of Act 3 is probably the best time to play it. Given it lines up better with All That Remains having happened and Hawke being named Champion. Since it makes more sense for them to receive the invitation while in a position of influence, Orlesians like that kind of thing. Plus having defeated the Arishok (and how you did it) also factors into an Act 3 play.
Isabela and Aveline have unique side quests during MotA unlike the other companions who only have Collection quests.
Legacy
Now canonically Legacy does take place in Act 3 of Dragon Age 2. I would recommend playing it close to the end of the main game, probably before The Last Straw. Partially because this sets up for Inquisition in the best way and in part because it lines up Cassandra and Varric’s scenes in it, with the timing of Varric’s tale (he goes to finish and she calls him out on omitting something).
Also during this quest Anders, Varric, and the Hawke sibling all have unique dialogues, important scenes, and banters that other companions do not receive.
DAI
Jaws of Hakkon
So this DLC really just adds a new region to the game, it can be done at any point. However, it is a high level area so you may want to do it later in the game. Of course it being a region, means you can always complete a few quests and come back to finish them later.
There are a few lines of dialogue that can change depending on if you finish the game or not before playing this game. But they are relatively small and shouldn’t affect when you play the Frostback Basin.
Fun Fact: In the Dragon Age Tabletop RPG there is a campaign called Where Eagles Lair. The Avvarian Hold you interact with in the story is the same one who can (and in Bioware canon do) become the Jaws of Hakkon. I say can, because in the tabletop, your actions can stop them from seeking out Hakkon later on.
The Descent
This DLC might actually be best finished at the end of the game? Since it is completely unrelated to the main story of Inquisition and actually sets up for Trespasser kind of.
Plus The Descent has all the enemies levelled to your current level, which makes it a bit hard to beat when you are the lower levels and easier at higher levels. Of course, it depends on if you mind the challenge or not.
You could, however, play it like JoH and finish parts of it bit by bit.
If you do decide to run this DLC at the end of Inquisition though, be warned some of the companions will be unavailable obviously. This goes for Jaws of Hakkon too, if you decide to not finish it before the end of the main game.
47 notes
·
View notes