f!Hawke/Fenris fic, apparently?
Aug. 8th, 2018 03:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sebenikelaBecause my brain is…something, instead of making progress on any of the MANY things that should be higher priority, I started writing Dragon Age f!Hawke/Fenris fic that can basically be summarized as this post. Will there be more? who knows? not me!
(tumblr crosspost)
We argued, later, about who started it. Fenris threw the first punch, but I must admit I gave him good reason to. It was after the Deep Roads, we were standing at the bar in the Hanged Man, and I may have been a little bit drunk.
Well, no. I was definitely more than a little bit drunk.
So when Fenris glanced over awkwardly and said he was sorry about Bethany, I didn’t really think before I answered. “What do you care? Just one less mage to worry about, right?”
He actually looked hurt, and I’d had more than enough of people telling me how sorry they were, so I took some pleasure in that. “Shit, maybe we should send all the mages down into the Deep Roads to die, like the dwarves do with criminals. That’d make you happy, wouldn’t it?”
And that’s when Fenris punched me, his knuckles cracking against my cheekbone. I hit back, of course, and we just kept going until Isabela came over.
“Alright,” she said, stepping between us, hands up to block. “I think that’s enough for tonight, why don’t you both head home.”
We glared at each other. Fenris broke first, stalked out the door like an angry alley cat. I looked back at the bar, but Isabela snatched up my glass before I could go back to it.
“Go home, Hawke,” she said, almost gently.
I glared at her a little longer and then sighed, turned and walked out without another word.
You’d think it’d get better once we moved to the estate, once I didn’t have to look at the empty bed where Bethany should be sleeping every time I walked into our room. But Bethany had been so excited about the idea of moving to Hightown, almost more than Mother. And Mother did not forget to remind me of that. Reminded me how I’d promised to protect my sister, how I’d always protected her, protected Carver, all except for when it mattered most. How she’d rather have been the one killed by the ogre back in Fereldan, so she wouldn’t have to lose two children to the darkspawn, and without even being able to care for their bodies.
I found excuses to be out of the house, playing cards with Isabela, doing the odd jobs I’d done before even though I didn’t really need the money now, checking up on Merrill, annoying Aveline when she could make time for me. Fenris and I kept our distance for a while after that first fight, but we couldn’t help running into each other, and after a few weeks we were back to our usual wary truce without anyone having to say anything.
And then the nightmares started. Probably I was due for some, but that didn’t make it less awful to keep waking up in the dark wondering if I could really feel the taint creeping towards my heart or if it was just another bad dream.
Hightown likes to keep its messiness well hidden, so there wasn’t any place to go late at night. Lowtown, though, and the Hanged Man, they’re reliable. So sometimes, if it was still early enough to be late at night, I’d head down there, get a pint, slouch in a corner and watch people.
One night, Fenris showed up not long after I arrived. He eyed me a little warily, then came over. “If I sit here, are you going to hit me?” he asked.
I shrugged. “You started it.”
He raised an eyebrow, sat down on the bench beside me, a little ways down. “I was provoked.”
I didn’t answer. He was right, of course, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.
We sat in silence for a bit, then Fenris put his cup on the table and sat back. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, carefully nonchalant.
I sipped at my beer, considering. Fenris wasn’t a friend, exactly, but it was three o’clock in the morning and we were both sitting here drinking rather than in bed, asleep, so what the hell. “Nightmares,” I said, left it at that.
“Ah.” Fenris took a drink, set his cup back down.
“How about you?”
Fenris lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth rising with it. “Same thing.”
Silence again, while a man at the bar started singing something, unintelligible and off-key. I saw Fenris wince, felt my own jaw tightening. Sitting was starting to make me antsy, and this was the last straw. “Look,” I said, and Fenris did. “I’m not—mad at you, or anything, but do you want to fight?”
“What, just for fun?”
“Sure, or practice.”
Fenris watched me. “I do have a big house, nobody to worry about waking up.”
“Is that a yes?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Just don’t take my head off.”
We left together—I amused myself wondering what people would think, and how wrong they’d be. When we got to Fenris’ house, he shoved the door and it opened. “You don’t lock your front door?”
“I don’t have a key,” he said, shrugging. “If someone decides to break in that’s their mistake.”
“What if you’re asleep?”
“If they get through the door, I won’t be.”
It was a fair point. Even with three rooms between my bed and the outside I still woke up any time the door opened, even though I knew full well Bodhan was capable of dealing with damn near anything that could fit through the front door.
We stopped, a little awkward, in the main hall. I glanced at Fenris’ nearly-bare feet, pulled off my boots. I didn’t really want to hurt him—for once.
And then he tackled me, and the awkwardness vanished.
I hadn’t thought about it before, but we were evenly matched—about the same size, both used to swinging a sword, wiry scrappers when compared to Aveline’s calm authority that rarely cracked even in a fight. Neither of us were particularly interested in fighting fair, but we weren’t taking cheap shots just because—not today, anyway.
We kept going, breaking away when one of us tapped out, catching our breaths before moving back in, nothing like the refereed matches, not deadly serious, more like my old practice fights with Carver but a lot less careful. I didn’t want to hurt Fenris, but I wasn’t too worried about avoiding it either.
It was getting light outside when I pinned him again. He tapped out, I shifted off of him but had no particular desire to get back up. Apparently, neither did Fenris. I almost fell asleep right there on his floor, but I hauled myself up, pulled on my boots and headed for the door. I turned back before opening it. Fenris was watching me. “We should do this again sometime,” I said, trying to sound like I was joking.
“We should,” he said, serious. “Good night, Hawke.”
“Good morning, isn’t it?” I replied, and left before he could answer.
(tumblr crosspost)
We argued, later, about who started it. Fenris threw the first punch, but I must admit I gave him good reason to. It was after the Deep Roads, we were standing at the bar in the Hanged Man, and I may have been a little bit drunk.
Well, no. I was definitely more than a little bit drunk.
So when Fenris glanced over awkwardly and said he was sorry about Bethany, I didn’t really think before I answered. “What do you care? Just one less mage to worry about, right?”
He actually looked hurt, and I’d had more than enough of people telling me how sorry they were, so I took some pleasure in that. “Shit, maybe we should send all the mages down into the Deep Roads to die, like the dwarves do with criminals. That’d make you happy, wouldn’t it?”
And that’s when Fenris punched me, his knuckles cracking against my cheekbone. I hit back, of course, and we just kept going until Isabela came over.
“Alright,” she said, stepping between us, hands up to block. “I think that’s enough for tonight, why don’t you both head home.”
We glared at each other. Fenris broke first, stalked out the door like an angry alley cat. I looked back at the bar, but Isabela snatched up my glass before I could go back to it.
“Go home, Hawke,” she said, almost gently.
I glared at her a little longer and then sighed, turned and walked out without another word.
You’d think it’d get better once we moved to the estate, once I didn’t have to look at the empty bed where Bethany should be sleeping every time I walked into our room. But Bethany had been so excited about the idea of moving to Hightown, almost more than Mother. And Mother did not forget to remind me of that. Reminded me how I’d promised to protect my sister, how I’d always protected her, protected Carver, all except for when it mattered most. How she’d rather have been the one killed by the ogre back in Fereldan, so she wouldn’t have to lose two children to the darkspawn, and without even being able to care for their bodies.
I found excuses to be out of the house, playing cards with Isabela, doing the odd jobs I’d done before even though I didn’t really need the money now, checking up on Merrill, annoying Aveline when she could make time for me. Fenris and I kept our distance for a while after that first fight, but we couldn’t help running into each other, and after a few weeks we were back to our usual wary truce without anyone having to say anything.
And then the nightmares started. Probably I was due for some, but that didn’t make it less awful to keep waking up in the dark wondering if I could really feel the taint creeping towards my heart or if it was just another bad dream.
Hightown likes to keep its messiness well hidden, so there wasn’t any place to go late at night. Lowtown, though, and the Hanged Man, they’re reliable. So sometimes, if it was still early enough to be late at night, I’d head down there, get a pint, slouch in a corner and watch people.
One night, Fenris showed up not long after I arrived. He eyed me a little warily, then came over. “If I sit here, are you going to hit me?” he asked.
I shrugged. “You started it.”
He raised an eyebrow, sat down on the bench beside me, a little ways down. “I was provoked.”
I didn’t answer. He was right, of course, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.
We sat in silence for a bit, then Fenris put his cup on the table and sat back. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, carefully nonchalant.
I sipped at my beer, considering. Fenris wasn’t a friend, exactly, but it was three o’clock in the morning and we were both sitting here drinking rather than in bed, asleep, so what the hell. “Nightmares,” I said, left it at that.
“Ah.” Fenris took a drink, set his cup back down.
“How about you?”
Fenris lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth rising with it. “Same thing.”
Silence again, while a man at the bar started singing something, unintelligible and off-key. I saw Fenris wince, felt my own jaw tightening. Sitting was starting to make me antsy, and this was the last straw. “Look,” I said, and Fenris did. “I’m not—mad at you, or anything, but do you want to fight?”
“What, just for fun?”
“Sure, or practice.”
Fenris watched me. “I do have a big house, nobody to worry about waking up.”
“Is that a yes?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Just don’t take my head off.”
We left together—I amused myself wondering what people would think, and how wrong they’d be. When we got to Fenris’ house, he shoved the door and it opened. “You don’t lock your front door?”
“I don’t have a key,” he said, shrugging. “If someone decides to break in that’s their mistake.”
“What if you’re asleep?”
“If they get through the door, I won’t be.”
It was a fair point. Even with three rooms between my bed and the outside I still woke up any time the door opened, even though I knew full well Bodhan was capable of dealing with damn near anything that could fit through the front door.
We stopped, a little awkward, in the main hall. I glanced at Fenris’ nearly-bare feet, pulled off my boots. I didn’t really want to hurt him—for once.
And then he tackled me, and the awkwardness vanished.
I hadn’t thought about it before, but we were evenly matched—about the same size, both used to swinging a sword, wiry scrappers when compared to Aveline’s calm authority that rarely cracked even in a fight. Neither of us were particularly interested in fighting fair, but we weren’t taking cheap shots just because—not today, anyway.
We kept going, breaking away when one of us tapped out, catching our breaths before moving back in, nothing like the refereed matches, not deadly serious, more like my old practice fights with Carver but a lot less careful. I didn’t want to hurt Fenris, but I wasn’t too worried about avoiding it either.
It was getting light outside when I pinned him again. He tapped out, I shifted off of him but had no particular desire to get back up. Apparently, neither did Fenris. I almost fell asleep right there on his floor, but I hauled myself up, pulled on my boots and headed for the door. I turned back before opening it. Fenris was watching me. “We should do this again sometime,” I said, trying to sound like I was joking.
“We should,” he said, serious. “Good night, Hawke.”
“Good morning, isn’t it?” I replied, and left before he could answer.