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It was almost eerie how familiar this situation was to her.
An old memory unwittingly slipped into Hawke's mind despite her best attempts to block it. Everything was too similar; her sitting on the bed, eyes fixed warily at the figure just a few steps away—an elf, white hair gleaming pale amber from the fireplace where he stood by, his back to her, deep in his own thoughts.
The fire crackled, the only noise inside the cold bedchamber. Weisshaupt Fortress was already a cold place to begin with, something that Hawke had taken notice of when she'd first stepped foot inside its walls. Located in the southern Anderfels, the weather was even less forgiving by this time of the year.
And Fenris' silence did nothing but added to the chill in the air.
Her first instinct had been fear, dreading history would repeat itself; that within the next few seconds he would deem that this is too much and leave without giving her a chance to explain. But Hawke reminded herself that those had been in the past, and this time the circumstances were a lot different.
She knew Fenris well enough by now. The fact that he had surprised her by showing up unannounced at the gates of Weisshaupt—despite her plead through Varric's letter that she'd rather have him stay back amidst recent disastrous events—despite how long and dangerous the journey would've been—that stubborn, undeterred determination of his alone was a testament that he was most certainly not about to leave anytime soon.
Fenris had arrived just a few hours before midnight. The moment Hawke had seen his face for the first time after months apart, she'd been filled by this spontaneous, overflowing urge to throw herself at him and pull him into a deep, searching kiss. Maker, how she'd missed him—how she'd yearned his presence, to hear his voice again—how she'd missed having his arms wrapped around her to ensure that she was home, with him, away from heavy responsibilities.
But none of that had happened. As carefree as she was, as familiar they were to each other, Hawke knew her boundaries; especially given the current situation.
Fenris, for one, was clearly exhausted. He'd arrived looking much the worse for wear; dark undereye circles all too harsh and apparent even under the dim lights, unkempt hair drenched with sweat and caked with dirt, white locks having grown longer than the last time she'd seen him, shoved dismissively away from his face.
But above all, he was furious.
The only thing he'd said to her had been one word. Hawke, he'd called her name. Spoken low and gruff; a greeting and a caution at the same time.
Fenris hadn't even raised his voice—perhaps his fatigue had been one reason—but the steely glint in his eyes alone had told her enough, and Hawke didn't blame him. She knew his ire was to be anticipated after she'd taken off on her own to assist the Inquisition, leaving him behind for far too long.
What was far worse: she'd done all of that behind his back.
They'd needed to talk. Badly.
Hawke had let Fenris clean up first, assisting the caretaker of the fortress in preparing a bath for him by heating up the water with her magic, so it had been warm enough for him to bathe in. After Fenris had emerged later in a fresh shirt, looking a tad bit less haggard than before, she'd asked him to sit together on the bed, eye to eye, and had told him everything that had happened in a quick explanation.
Fenris had been silent the whole time.
She'd told him about Skyhold, the Inquisitor, her investigation with Stroud, the battle at Adamant, the Fade, and how the team had managed to come back alive only by Stroud's sacrifice. Fenris had never let go of his eyes upon her, lips pressed into a tight line throughout the entire talk. He'd only broken contact once Hawke had finished speaking, pulling himself to his feet and wordlessly stalked off to the fireplace, turning away from her.
A few more beats passed, and Hawke couldn't take the unsettling silence anymore. She needed to hear from him. Anything.
He might as well yell at her, berate her, and she would take all of it in full responsibility as she should—rather than having him standing here, so close within reach, yet refusing to spare even a single word to her.
"Fenris," Hawke called him warily. She watched as Fenris' fist clenched at the mention of his name, and her own heart raced faster to the point she could hear blood pounding loudly in her ears. "Say something. Please."
It took another beat before he finally turned to her, and Hawke felt as if someone had punched her in the gut.
A grim expression clouded Fenris' features; his dark brows dug deep, peeking between strands of white hair that was still damp from his earlier bath. His green eyes, illuminated by the firelight, drilled through her in a firm stare.
But what was most heart-wrenching was not really that, no. Hawke had been at the receiving end of Fenris' disapproving scowls before, too many times to count that she could easily wave it off with a snarky wit. No, that wasn't the problem. It was how beneath all that anger, she knew exactly what that look meant.
Hurt.
"You left," Fenris finally spoke, voice hoarse from the long silence.
The effect was instant. Guilt flooded all over her body that Hawke had to fight the urge to flinch. "I know," she responded, her own voice sounding foreign to her. "I'm sorry."
"You lied to me."
"I know."
"You told me you would stay back."
"Yes."
"Yet you left. With only a letter."
"I know."
Fenris scoffed. "Months without any word. Months, Hawke. I had no idea what happened to you, or if my letters even reached you, but then suddenly a letter arrived and it wasn't from you, but from Varric." A pause, then his eyes narrowed. "You couldn't even spare a minute of your time to write to me? Am I that worthless to you?"
The jabbing accusation was what finally made her flinch. "Of course not!" Hawke exclaimed. Then, taking a breath to collect herself, she said, "And I'm sorry, Fenris. There were matters of security concerns at that time, but I know that's no excuse. You're right, I should have written to you personally."
"Yes, you should have." The tone of his voice went a bit sharper now. "Imagine it, Hawke. Imagine how it feels to be left in the dark for months" —he took slow steps towards her— "and the next thing I heard was that you almost died, in the Fade of all places?"
She winced as Fenris stopped only at arm's length from where she sat. He stood motionless before her, his shadow loomed over her body, lit by the light from the fireplace.
Her head bowed lower, she couldn't find the courage to look him in the eyes. She knew Fenris was right. His voice carried both anger and pain that she had inflicted on him, and that knowledge did nothing but further fueled her raging guilt.
"You could've—venhedis, you could've died, Hawke. I was—have you—" He halted abruptly, and the next thing she heard was a harsh exhale of breath. "What were you thinking?"
"I'm sorry," Hawke whispered, voice even weaker with her struggle to keep her composure, which might as well fail anytime soon. "I truly am. I'm sorry for going behind your back and not sending any word. That was on me, and you deserved none of that."
Fenris went quiet again, and only for a moment, but it might as well felt like an excruciatingly long silence to her. When he spoke again, the sharp edge he'd used earlier was abandoned, though the strain in his voice remained. "Hawke, I—"
"Please, don't," she cut in. "I… please, just let me finish?"
Fenris didn't respond, but didn't give away any signs of objection either. So with that, Hawke took a deep breath, and continued, "I don't deny everything you've said; it was impulsive of me, and selfish, but believe me it wasn't my intention to deliberately hurt you. It never was. If anything, I did all that to protect you."
"Hawke—"
"I know you, Fenris. I know you would do anything to protect me, even if it means diving headfirst into an army of demons. And I can't—I can't have you do that. I won't. Corypheus is my responsibility, damn it. I set him loose in the first place, I should be the one who put an end to him, to put things right—"
"Hawke."
"—do you know what The Nightmare told me in the Fade? Fenris is going to die, just like your family, it said, and I thought of everyone I had let down; Bethany, Mother… even Carver, what with the Grey Wardens under influence and I made him a Grey Warden in the first place. I did that to him—another poor decision, another loved one to bear the consequences, and now Stroud is dead because of me—"
"Stop."
"It's what I do, isn't it? Dooming others to my failure. A walking catastrophe to every innocent soul out there." She chuckled darkly. "But I still have you, and I just—I can't have you slip away because of me, because of another damning mistake I made—the thought itself was—I didn't want—"
"Marian."
That made her stop.
She absently registered a sense of warmth enveloping her cheeks, and how they felt wet. Since when had she started crying?
It took another moment for her to realize that Fenris had knelt down on the floor, bringing his eyes on level with her own, both of his hands cupping her face—the warmth she had felt.
"Hawke," he spoke again, this time much gentler. His eyes never left hers. "Hush."
She blinked, another teardrop fell from her lashes and down to her cheek. At that, Fenris gently swiped his thumb over her skin, wiping off the new trail of tears.
If anything, the tender gesture only made her whimper, and the next thing she knew another teardrop fell down. And another one. And another.
Hawke glanced away, opting to avert her gaze below instead, watching her tears fell onto the flagstone floor, darkening the surface where they landed. "I'm sorry." Her voice cracked, her fingers gripping each side of her own arms so hard that her knuckles turned white.
Fenris said nothing, not that she expected any comforting words; he wasn't the kind of man who would say sweet nothings if he hadn't truly meant it, and she loved him for it. By then Hawke already knew he wasn't ready to forgive her.
And she understood, even if she couldn't lie to herself that this simple knowledge didn't sting.
But then she felt his hands glide to the back of her head, long fingers buried into her hair, as Fenris pulled her in, gently, so that her forehead rested upon his.
His thumbs were brushing against her temples, drawing slow circles; the same thing she would often did to soothe him in time of distress, she realized. Her eyes fluttered closed, lulled by his touch as Fenris continued holding her, no sounds other than his steady breathing, no signs of pulling back soon.
The one man she could ever feel safe with. The love of her life. Her home. And she had foolishly left him behind, afraid for his own safety if he had followed her into another path of destruction.
Even with her intention to keep him safe, Hawke knew that was cruel, and she didn't expect Fenris to forgive her anytime soon. Had the situation reversed, she wasn't sure she would have.
"You are…" Fenris trailed off, then sighed, breath warm on her skin. "You will be the death of me."
A sorrowful smile unwittingly crept up her lips at his words. Familiar, if slightly different, but it was still something from before, and it lightened her heart if only slightly. "Doesn't sound as prickly as in Tevene."
He grunted, and in another situation she would've laughed as the sound could've been interpreted as a protest. "I want you to pay attention."
"Fair enough."
"Hawke, I'm serious." Fenris drew back to get a better look at her. "Have you ever considered the harm your actions might cause?"
Hawke nodded, small and timid. "I always have," she told him. "That's why I wanted you to stay behind—"
"I know why," he cut in, his voice softened as he spoke next, "I understand why. I only wish you hadn't deceived me. Ignorance can be twice as harmful as the burden of knowledge, Hawke. I would've welcomed the agony of the latter better."
She stared at him regretfully. "I'm sorry."
Fenris took a deep breath, and wiped one hand across his face. "You know what? Truth to be told, I half expected this would happen. You were never the type to keep your distance from trouble."
"You know me. I'm a walking catastrophe."
"I wouldn't put it that way," he countered, though a wry smile had emerged on his lips. "Though I do acknowledge that I signed up for trouble with my decision to stay with you."
"Regretting your decision then?"
"Never."
Her heart skipped a beat at his firm response. At how his green eyes bored into her without hesitancy. His assertion alone filled her with a new warmth, and she allowed herself a genuine smile. "Thank you, Fenris."
Fenris' expression softened. Then, he curled his fingers to caress her cheek, and Hawke nearly wept again at his tender touch. "You're here," he said solemnly, the relief was present in his voice now, finally unveiled after a whole other layering emotions had dissipated into the thin air. "That's what matters."
She nodded, reaching up to wrap her own hand around his. "I'm here."
"I still can't comprehend how you get into madness so often."
"As I used to say, it's a gift."
"And as I used to say, I think you should return it."
"I'm afraid the Maker has no return policies, so no, I really can't."
That prompted a small chuckle from Fenris, and Hawke's smile only widened at the sight. A few seconds passed before he spoke again, his voice barely a whisper, "Remember the last stand at the Gallows?"
She nodded. "What brings this up?"
"Remember what I told you back then?"
Her eyes widened at the memory. Oh, how could she ever forget? It was one of the most lovely things Fenris had said to her, and she would always hold it close to her heart, for it also spoke the truth for herself.
"I can't bear the thought of living without you," she recited, word by word. "I can never forget that, Fenris."
The fondness in his gaze was so real and honest it made her heart ache. "I still mean it, Hawke."
Hawke offered him a loving smile. "I know you do."
"Don't ever do that again."
"I won't."
"Swear it to me, Hawke."
"I swear to you, Fenris."
Their eyes lingered even after the words had been said.
Then, Fenris leaned in, and pressed his lips to hers.
Joy, warmth, and relief exploded in Hawke's chest at once, as she angled her face to better receive his kiss. Deep and tender, from one relieved lover to the other, a shared affection that they had nurtured together for years and counting, pouring easily into one another.
But the tenderness didn't last long; for relief was slowly taken over by desire, and then, hunger—as the kiss grew fiercer and heated like kindled fire in every passing heartbeat. Months being apart had made them crave for each other's touch, eager and demanding, wanting to take everything they had missed all at once.
When Fenris' markings began shimmering under her touch, Hawke's own magic reacted to his lyrium, leaving sizzling sensation over the course of her body as they both fell onto the bed with Fenris atop her, his mouth still on hers. Everything about him—the groan he made when she nipped at his lower lip, the urgent roaming of his calloused hands, the heat of his body—it was ecstasy. Too long, she thought, too long they both had been denied from this privilege.
Fenris broke the kiss only briefly to shed his shirt and threw it without care across the room, hastily helping Hawke with her own shirt before his lips was on hers again. He brought one hand to hook her leg around his waist and began grinding their hips together, making them both moan at the friction, and in return she clung tighter to him, pulling him closer, fingertips skidding over the strong muscles of his bare back.
"Fenris…" Hawke breathed, drawing in shallow breaths when Fenris started planting open-mouthed kisses alongside her jaw and down the slope of her neck. She missed this, missed him—every inch of her skin that came in contact with him burned like fire and left her craving for more, after an awfully long time depraved of his touch.
But reason decided to come knocking at the back of her lust-addled mind, which was why, despite her own reluctance to do so, Hawke summoned what shreds left of her remaining willpower to put on halt to his ministrations. "Fenris..." she called him, one hand tapping at his shoulder. "Fenris, wait—stop."
Fenris pulled away, though his green eyes, now dark and heavy with desire, sent her questions beneath strands of white hair that had fallen over them. "What's the matter?" he asked, his voice—oh, that irresistible voice—breathless and deliciously gravelly that she had to suppress an involuntary shudder. His free hand ascended to brush Hawke's own stray hair away, worry contorted his handsome face. "Am I hurting you?"
She shook her head, smiling as she guided one palm along his jawline to rest flat on his cheek. "It's not that. Look, it's already late, and you're exhausted. You were on the road for, what—one month? Two?" She stroke a thumb over the weary skin under his left eye. "Do you know you have dark circles under your eyes? You need rest, Fenris. This... can wait. I can wait."
That seemed to ease his worry, as Fenris closed his eyes and pressed a soft kiss against Hawke's palm that was on his cheek. "I'll have my rest," he growled, and dropped his head back into the crook of her neck, "if you kindly assist me."
With that, he resumed his kisses instead, making his way down to the rise of her covered breasts. He closed his mouth over one tip and sucked through the cloth, causing Hawke moan loudly, fingernails dug deep into her lover's tawny skin.
"You... sneaky—b-bastard …" Hawke laughed, and hissed at the feel of Fenris' tongue lapping at the exposed skin above her chest. "Fenris, you should rest first."
"And I shall. Later."
"Oh, lovely. I almost forgot about that unyielding stubbornness of yours."
He snorted, and then murmured over her skin, the humming vibration sending her gooseflesh, "Then let me remind you."
As if making his point clear, Fenris sucked again, hard— the deliberate action sent a jolt of heat into the pit of her stomach and straight into her core, and Hawke swore viciously, writhing under him. He played with one breast for a while before lavishing his attention upon the other, one hand simultaneously working her up between her legs, and Hawke was certain she was going to come apart any moment from now.
"If you—sweet Maker—if you keep this up, we would wake the whole fortress before we know it."
After leaving another kiss, Fenris drew back, propping an arm on one side. "Do you truly wish to stop?"
"Well…"
"Tell me, and I shall."
She stared at him.
Even after all these years, Hawke had always found Fenris beautiful in every way possible. Her eyes traveled from his tousled white hair to his green eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, the swirling lyrium markings just under his chin which extended all the way to his neck and the rest of his body. The taut muscles of his chest and stomach rippled each time he drew a breath, and she followed the trail of his markings until they disappeared under the hem of his breeches, slung low over those amazingly defined hips—
"Oh, sod it."
Fenris snorted a laugh as Hawke practically leaped forward and crushed him onto his back, resuming their earlier activities with a new fiery passion, altogether getting rid of the rest of their hindering clothing.
And when the time came when their bodies joined as one, there was no need for other spoken words—for every kiss and caress shouted their feelings louder than what words could ever manage to accomplish—as they moved to their rhythm, an all too familiar dance they had learned to master throughout the years. Fenris' palms were hot as they roamed over her body wherever he could reach, lyrium blazing, and Hawke's own magic flared and weft through her fingers, a pulsing sensation wherever they came in contact with his skin.
When eventually the rhythm began to fumble, Fenris roughly muttered something in Tevene before he let out a rough groan, and bit her shoulder in a flailing attempt to muffle his voice. But Hawke was too occupied on her own to notice any pain—if anything, the pain only heightened the pleasure—as blood rushed in her ears and her hips bucked against him, fingers grasping at his hair when she buried her face into his neck, gasping out his name aloud, as both of them came to their release.
It took a while for the two of them to descend back into reality, their bodies laid motionless together, limbs tangling over one another, all too comfortable to move. And when Fenris' lips met hers again, Hawke admitted that for once since all of this madness began, she felt content.
She was home.
"Fenris."
"Hmm."
Hawke slid her hand along Fenris' arm that was draped over her naked hip, and gave a gentle squeeze. "I've missed you."
In response he pulled her body closer under the covers, her back flushed against his warm chest, and he slightly leaned in to land a soft kiss on her shoulder. "As have I," he murmured. "Now go to sleep."
"Mmm."
A few more moments passed with only hushed breaths filling the dark bedchamber.
"Fenris."
She felt a heavy sigh blown into her hair, followed by a rumble of, "Just a while ago you were so adamant that I needed rest."
Hawke chuckled softly at Fenris' sleepy protest. "After two rounds? Damn right you do. This just came to my mind."
"Fine. Speak."
"Have I told you that the Inquisitor yelled at me?"
Fenris shifted behind her. "What."
"Well, not specifically at me. It happened in the Fade. There was an argument going, and no one would back down, so the Inquisitor stepped in and then—"
"Hawke."
"Hmm?"
She felt another movement, then, the exhale of Fenris' breath just beside her ear. "Unless the idea of waking the entire fortress sounds appealing to you this time," he murmured, voice pitched low, "sleep."
The insinuation made Hawke grin, and she snuggled closer against him. "Your wish is my command."
When her eyes finally slipped closed, she only felt one thing she had not felt for months. Something that she would always be grateful for, altogether with the presence of the man she loved, who loved her in return, holding her safely in her sleep.
Together in peace, at last.