Chapter Text
‘’You both want to court me?’’
Hawke snorts. Deeply. Loudly. Indelicately even, to the point where she has to slap a hand over her mouth before she throws up from the effort of trying to make herself stop.
Sebastian has a smirk on his face, an amused curl of his lip which stretches ever so lightly over his straight white teeth. Anders … simply folds his arms and glowers at the former priest until he swings his eyes over to her, their intensity softening and a small smile graces his own lips.
‘’W-Why?’’
‘’Don’t be obtuse, Hawke. Do you think this is easy? To come here with this holier-than-thou-priest- ‘’
‘’Former.’’ Sebastian mutters and rolls his eyes. ‘’Be that as it may – ‘’ Anders continues harshly – ‘’We have both decided to be up front in our affections.’’
Hawke feels something bubble up in her chest. It builds and builds, tickling her, pulling her stomach muscles tighter and tighter, until finally a sound escapes her without her permission.
A squeak.
A giddy, eyewatering squeak that has both men raising their brows as her eyes blow wide and she giggles again, mortified beyond belief at the feminine sound.
‘’I-I’m sorry – it’s just so… sudden.’’ She breathes when she forces her utter bemusement back under control. ‘’I don’t know what to s-say.’’ She stutters as she panics somewhat, grabbing the nearest ale and burying her nose into the tankard, hoping to hide her blush.
‘’We have been dancing to this tune for months, mo luaidh. The mage and I … well, frankly we’ve had enough and decided to just come out with.’’ Sebastian’s blush is beautiful, the crimson of his cheeks contrasting beautifully with the copper of his hair, blue eyes strikingly beautiful as he gazed down at her.
‘’I’m just sick of watching him moon over you, Hawke.’’ Anders huffs and takes the tankard from her hand, sipping greedily at the last few drops, her spluttering at his mischievous wink drawing a laugh from him.
‘’Do you accept? Now that I have renounced my vows to the chantry and plan on taking the throne of Starkhaven… well lass, I would dearly love to show you just how much you mean to me.’’ Sebastian purrs, tucking a lock of her fiery red hair behind her ear and just for a moment she is lost in pristine crystal-clear blue eyes, and she carefully swallows down the embarrassment of his wanting stare.
Anders growls, moving past the princes’ outstretched hand and knocking it to the side before he presses Hawke against the bar, encroaching on her space, golden-brown eyes roaming her face in adoration.
‘’And I – simply wish to love you, to make the rest of your days ones where you feel safe from persecution.’’ Before she can react, he places a kiss on her forehead and she stills, the tender touch warming her face and skittering her heart about her chest.
Sebastians’ luscious lower lip is drawn into a grim line as he watches her react to the chaste kiss and his blue eyes turn icy as they level on the mage still trapping her with his body.
‘’Ah… yes… well, that’s lovely – but uh – ‘’
‘’Please, Marian.’’ Both men implore in unison and their disgusted faces at the act draws another snort from her, but she sighs, pushing Anders away.
‘’Let … let me think about it.’’ Breathily, shakily she whispers, heart now clamouring in her chest as she watches the two men stare intently at her before they both break out in huge smiles, beaming ones in fact and she resists the urge to groan.
She pushes off the bar and steps between them, they still facing the bar, she itching to the flee in the direction of the door, but she pauses and places a hand on each of the men’s shoulders and they turn to her, their hot breaths on each of her cheeks.
‘’Courting, you say?’’ she quirks a brow and they nod again, determination in their steely eyes.
She blushes again and flees through the Hanged Man’s doors.
****
It’s quiet, too quiet as she makes her way to Hightown and the eerie stillness had her palm itching to remove her staff, the iron bark wood somehow too hot and too heavy strapped to her back.
‘’Maker…’’ she curses as she scans her surroundings, not seeing any threat but expecting movement from the shadows just the same. Years of training herself to watch for Templars, for opportunistic, nasty neighbours, and most recently – dragons, spiders, bandits, and a host of evil and grizzly creatures that seemed to want to kill her on a daily basis - had honed her skills to the level of mastery over her surroundings.
When she wasn’t plagued with thoughts of courting and kisses that is.
It’s been two months since she was proclaimed Champion of Kirkwall, two months since she had felled the Arishok with a spell that had frozen him solid on an enraged, bull-rushing roar - before she had shattered him into nothing more than fractures shards that scattered about the Viscounts floor.
After spending most of her life fleeing the injustices visited upon peaceful, unsuspecting mages, protecting her family, fleeing the blight, and indenturing herself into Kirkwall’s servitude – she’d never bothered with hoping, with dreaming of men and their attentions.
Or the prospect of love and ever having a family.
And so, at the age of twenty-four – she was still embarrassingly a blushing, inexperienced … virgin.
‘’Maker’s tits.’’ She curses again as she climbs the last few steps to her destination in two large strides of her toned, limber legs. A heated blush was still creeping up the back of her neck as ghostly touches of both Anders and Sebastians actions brushed against her through her memory, and she groans – it was a damned wonder that the red on her cheeks didn’t draw in every crook in Kirkwall so bright was the hue.
‘’Oh, blast it… where did he put that – aha! – there you are, slippery demon.’’ She mutters as she digs through the shrubbery outside the door, the key sparkling faintly in the moonlight.
She opens the steel frame with a relieved sigh but it’s hinges creak ominously, setting her teeth on edge as she removes her boots and grimaces at the cold stone floors beneath her stocking feet. The darkened hallway narrowing her eyes as she strained to look further into his depths. She walks forward carefully and grins, proud that she had avoided the chest in the middle of the room that always managed to catch her -
‘’MAKERS BALLS!’’ she yells as she stubs her toe against the blasted chest, and she hears a hearty chuckle from a light source that pops up in the doorway ahead of her.
Lyrium lines sparkle faintly, a blue hum of magic and she half-laughs, half-sobs as she stands there in her best friend’s foyer, hopping on one leg and hissing while she holds her toes in her hand, eyes watering.
‘’You did this on purpose didn’t you?’’ she accuses him with a pointed finger, and he grins, green elven eyes reflecting in the dark and she scowls at him as his grin spreads wider the longer she hops and hisses in the middle of the floor.
‘’You never learn, do you Hawke.’’ Fenris states as he strikes a match, lighting the lamps in the room and she squints briefly as light fills her vision, spots dancing in front of her eyes.
‘’If you would just keep the blasted chest in the corner where I keep pushing it – ‘’ she hisses but he leans against the wall and smirks at her.
‘’Then how would I know it’s you? No. It is better this way… I’d rather greet you with laughter than a fist through your chest.’’ He hums in amusement, and she snorts at him, sharing in his mirth as she finally straightens her leg and breathes deeply to dispel the lingering pain.
She steps over to him calmly, eyes half-lidded and she sees a slight tensing in his shoulders before she throws herself on him, hanging almost limp in his arms as he curses harshly and wraps his arms around her waist to stop her from falling.
‘’Fenris… I have to go back to the Deep Roads.’’ She quips as she moans into his shoulder, their height difference always taking her by surprise every time she does this.
‘’What?’’ he barks, and she looks up to see him pale beneath his usually tanned, white lined skin. He grips her shoulders as he straightens her and forces her to look at him. Concern and fear etching themselves into the corners of his eyes and she manages to keep a straight face for all of twenty seconds before she blusters, a laugh bursting out of her.
He pushes her away, somewhat roughly and she staggers one-legged to the wall beside her to regain her balance, still laughing at his expression.
‘’Oh, Maker, your face…’’ she tuts as she quickly mutters apology after apology in his direction as he stalks out the foyer, his muscled limbs carrying him harshly back to his room at the top of the grand staircase.
As she follows him, she smiles softly at how far he has come since they first met.
Oh, he was still sullen and moody … and broody as Varric so aptly nicknamed him - but the differences between then and now were the same as chalk and Gamlen’s mouldy cheese. Before - she had found herself on her ass on several occasions when she had forgotten herself, a friendly hand to his shoulder, a pat in comradery, a spontaneous hug in gratefulness when he had yet again saved her life – all her unintended touches bringing forth his ire, his hatred of the act burning in his eyes.
He would always scowl harshly at her, cursing in Tevene, the guttural and rolling vowels of the language echoing against whatever cavern, cove, or marbled hallway they had found themselves in.
But now, four years later, he seemed absolutely immune to her charms, to her quirks. She would throw herself in his arms in woe, weakness, and drunkenness whenever it suited her, and she knew he would be there to catch her despite still cursing at her.
Fenris’ scowls and flares of lyrium, his stony, blank expressions had begun to mellow and the first time she managed to make him laugh she had been mesmerised by the sound – making a solemn promise to do everything she could to hear that sound at least once a day.
To bring that light to his eyes and remove those burdens she could see weighing down his shoulders, even if just for a moment.
Out of all her companions, there was just something safe about the broody elf, some sort of kindred spirit that joined them as they both lived their lives under constant threat of discovery.
‘’Wine?’’ he motions to the bottle as he sloshes the liquid at her, taking in her repentant face and rolling his eyes as she shucks off her staff, her coat floating to the floor in an untidy heap.
‘’Just give me the bottle – ‘’ she waves a hand, and he raises a brow, watching her drink greedily as she tips her head back. ‘’You would not believe what just happened at the Hanged Man.’’ She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and she see his lips twitch at the sight.
‘’Did the pirate wench bare her breasts to the esteemed clientele of Lowtown again?’’
‘’Well… yes, that happened as well but – ‘’ he takes the bottle back and motions for her to sit on the pew which he had painstakingly dragged up to his room - for his one and only frequent guest.
She narrows her eyes as he kneels in front of her, his hand clasping her ankle and placing it across his knee. He removes her stocking, and she frowns as her skin breaks out in goosebumps as he twists her dainty limb this way and that, long and nimble fingers trailing her skin as he inspects her toe for injury.
She smirks at him and ruffles his hair, ignoring his huff of protest, a wave of fondness cresting over her as he attempts to hide a smile but fails miserably. He deems her fit and healthy and gives her foot a light squeeze before replacing her stocking and taking a seat beside her.
‘’So, what trouble have you brought to my doorstep this evening, Hawke?’’ Green eyes crinkle in confusion as he watches a blush rise to her cheeks.
‘’I was propositioned… ‘’
Fenris frowns. ‘’Go on.’’
‘’By two men in fact… they’ve… they’ve asked if they can court me.’’ she mumbles, and the elf’s brows disappear into his hair.
‘’You are no stranger to men and their words of want, Hawke.’’ He gulps a large mouthful of wine and hands her the bottle.
‘’It’s not the same… it’s – ‘’ she peeks beneath the fringe falling just below her brows, wanting to see - yet frightened all the same of his reaction. ‘’ Sebastian and Anders.’’ She clamps her mouth around the lip of the bottle so hard she smashes the glass into her gums and cringes when she hears him suck in an almighty breath.
‘’The Abomination and the Priest?!’’ he spits, a flare of blue humming through the room and her mana pools quiver as they try to soak up the residual power of his lyrium floating in the air.
She averts her gaze, the floor now so fascinating she begins to the count the cracks in the tiles as the tension stifles the room, and the bench squawks as the wood shifts under his movements.
‘’Tell me you told them to hurl themselves into the void?’’ he presses darkly, and she bites her lower lip.
‘’I – I was so surprised by it all – ‘’
‘’Do NOT tell me you said yes, Hawke.’’ He groans and palms his face, dragging it down so hard he pulls his lower eye lids down along with him in his frustration. She smirks at the sight but quickly schools her face as he glowers at her.
‘’I – didn’t say yes, I just said I would think about it.’’ She shrugs and he growls, standing promptly and so suddenly that she shrinks back with narrowed eyes.
‘’You can’t be serious. The Abomination alone is bad enough – but Sebastian, he’s a good man yes, but he’s … he’s far too pious for your sailor cursing mouth and you’d be bored within a week.’’ He scoffs, walking over to his trunk and removing another bottle of wine, popping the cork with mastered fingers from years of practice.
‘’What the hell, Fen. Where’s all this coming from? I get that you’ve never liked Anders, or mages in general – ‘’ he turns to glare at her and waves a hand between them, indicating that not all mages were hated, and she cedes his point with a nod and an eye roll before standing and coming to a stop in front of him. ‘’ What’s going on here?’’ she tilts her head and places a hand on his shoulder with a gentle grip.
‘’I – I just don’t want you to get hurt. ‘’ he intones gruffly and ah… there’s that wave of fondness again.
‘’Now why would I be worried about that when I know you’ll protect me?’’ she grins as she flicks his nose fondly, enjoying the scowl that plasters over his face.
‘’Do… do you even feel anything for them?’’ his voice is soft and probing and she hums as she contemplates her answer.
‘’I … think I could… given enough time, I mean. I’ve never really thought of anyone… in that way.’’ She stutters, ears red and eyes now staring at his bare feet.
Fenris grumbles something beneath his breath in Tevene and she furrows her brows.
‘’Is this… what you want, Hawke?’’ serious green eyes now… Maker, she hated those… they rooted her to the spot and made it difficult for her to dredge up her usual defence of sarcasm and deflection.
‘’I… don’t see the harm in them trying.’’ She removes her hand from his shoulders and his lip twitches once again as he sighs.
‘’You are a grown woman, Hawke… you will do what you must – but I feel that I should warn you about something now.’’
‘’Oh?’’ she steps back and folds her arms.
‘’If they hurt you, I will kill them.’’
Oh…
Maker, her heart was obviously broken – the rushing of it in her ears was far too loud and unnatural.
****
Rolling over, she grunts as her elbow knocks into the wall. Blearily, she blinks open sleep crusted eyes and blows a lock of hair out of her face in irritation. She was hot, overly so, a dampness on her skin and she huffs out a breath as she hears Fenris’ loud snores behind her, the staccato reverberations thrumming through him and straight into her belly from where his arm encased her.
This was hardly the first time she had woken up next to him, in his arms to be precise – his nose pressing into her neck, his toned and muscled chest heating her back, his soft breaths rustling her hair.
She can’t rightly recall when it started but it had been so chaste, so comforting, that when it continued to happen each time they drank themselves into near oblivion - she had stopped freaking out about it and decided to just to accept it for what it was.
Comfort and affection.
He had never touched her inappropriately and she would never dare risk touching him in that way after discovering his sordid past of slavery and abuse. His friendship as well, was far too important to lose.
He was her closest friend, her confidante, the person she turned to in times of trouble and his loyalty and friendship to her was worth more than any amount of gold she could ever dream of.
‘’Fenris, you’re too hot. Gerr’off.’’ She moans but he simply tsks and pulls her closer, falling back to sleep with a contented snuffle, nose burying in her hair. She sighs, lifting his arm carefully, her eyes roaming over his bare chest, the lyrium markings slightly raised in thick lines in comparison to the rest of his skin.
She would kill Danarius. The minute he docked, he was dead she vowed as she traced a vein on his chest, lyrium lighting beneath her fingers in a gentle hum as her magic was drawn to it.
‘’I am not your toy, Hawke.’’ He grumbles sleepily and she smirks, leaning up on her elbow and placing a quick kiss on the top of his head and he opens one eye to look at her in confusion before the harsh rays of the sun force them closed again.
‘’I’ll leave you some elfroot to drink – for the hangover.’’ She chuckles as he grabs her pillow from beneath her and shoves it over his head.
‘’I need to get going – Bodhan and mother will be wondering where I’ve slipped off to.’’
As she picks up her discarded armour, the leather breast plate quickly being buckled back into place over the loose pale-pink chemise, she notices that he is watching her with the kind of scrutiny that surprisingly makes her toes curl.
‘’What?’’ she asks as she picks up her cloak, swinging the item across her shoulder and fastening it with a hawk pin Varric had gifted her last year on her nameday.
‘’Do you need me today?’’ Fenris sits, stretching before padding quietly and lithely across the floor, his bare feet barely making a sound and she envied him his poise and grace.
‘’Always, but we’re not due at Aveline’s until late this afternoon.’’ She hoists her staff into her hand and lovingly caresses the metal bird sat atop a glowing orb. A gift from her father and one she cherished.
‘’What danger is she dragging you into today?’’ He grumbles as he tries to pat down his silver-white hair before gargling water and spitting it into a bucket in the corner of the room.
‘’Something about Donnic and a goat?’’ she shrugs, and he chuckles quietly.
‘’It is… bizarre to see the fierce shield maiden all a-flutter over a man.’’ He shakes his head and bends to retrieve his shirt – what could be his only one Hawke surmises and she makes a note to pay her tailor a visit.
‘’I think it’s sweet. After Wesley – ‘’ Hawke grips her staff as visions of the ogre and Bethany come to the forefront – ‘’Well, I think she deserves all the happiness there is.’’
‘’As do you.’’ she hears him mutter but he averts his gaze when her head snaps up to him.
‘’Shall I come get you at midday?’’ she queries as she picks up her coin bag from the table, noting a thin layer of dust over the books on his desk.
‘’I will meet you at the Hanged Man….’’ He trails off with a small wave and she nods.
Hawke traipses over to him and slings both arms around his neck, placing a kiss on his cheek and she feels him shake, a shudder from the affection and she frowns.
‘’Fenris… do you want me to lay off touching you? Do I … do I make you uncomfortable?’’ she asks quietly as she removes her hands and steps back, but he yanks on her arms and brings her back to her original position.
‘’No.’’ he offers no other explanation and for the first time since they’ve met – she feels the cool press of his lips on her forehead. Light, fleeting but the sensation crawled over her skin, skitters about her ribcage, curls her toes and she narrowly avoids choking on her tongue as she gasps.
‘’No.’’ he says again sternly, and she giggles when he flicks her nose, the moment broken, and he steps away from her.
Maker… is she blushing again? Was she ill? She stupidly clamps a hand to her cheek and Fenris quirk’s a lip at her in a cheeky smile and she rolls her eyes.
‘’Hawke?’’ she hears his voice just before she leaves his room and she hovers by the door, hand curling around the beam.
‘’Mm?’’
‘’Do you intend to let them court you?’’
She bites her lip and smiles – ‘’I intend to let them try.’’
She leaves before he can respond but when she reaches the foyer, stopping to shrug on her boots, she hears a resounding crash – a sound similar to that of a bottle of wine splintering against the wall.
****
‘’My lady.’’
Sebastian… crap… she’s not prepared for this.
As she sits at her favourite bakery at a little after ten in the morning, a fluffy sugar covered donut in one hand and the daily printed news in the other – she chokes on her bite and tries to surreptitiously wipe away the white moustache she must no doubt be sporting.
‘’May I join you?’’ his voice is low, his brogue, his rolling r’s and deep growls widening her eyes. It wasn’t often he allowed his accent to wander in unannounced – the only time she heard it clearly was in the midst of battle when he hollered for her to move out the path of his arrows.
‘’P-Please…’’ she stutters, motioning to the seat across from her and when he beams at her she blinks stupidly.
He was so bright. And shiny. And Maker, how was he always so clean despite wearing white armour?
She was certain she would look like a wild alley cat that had been dragged through all the puddles in Kirkwall - if she dared to wear white.
‘’I am pleased to see you here, Marian. I was intending to invite you to breakfast but Bodhan said you had yet to return to your home.’’ He hums and she sees the unspoken question in his eyes.
‘’Oh – uh, I stayed with Fenris last night – had a bit too much to drink I’m afraid.’’ She shrugs nonchalantly and his brows tighten.
‘’I do hope –‘’ she holds up her hands and he quirks a brow.
‘’Fenris would never harm me, and we don’t have that type of relationship.’’ She says and something in the princes’ shoulders unwinds.
No one could see what she saw in her friend. No one had ever heard him laugh until tears poured from his eyes, no one had ever seen how she hugged him, kissed his forehead and no one knew that they spent at least four days a week in the same bed, warding off the loneliness that comes from having a troubled past.
Hawke and Fenris had decided quite early on that they would keep all displays of affection strictly amongst themselves and behind closed doors - where Isabela’s teasing couldn’t taint it, where Varric’s jibes couldn’t dampen it and where Merril couldn’t make assumptions and place pressure on them.
She was perfectly content with the arrangement - perfectly content with being the only person in Thedas who got to see his softer side.
Hawke takes another bite of her donut – with perhaps a smidge more etiquette than earlier considering current company - and sits back to take in the man that was beaming brightly at her.
The copper of his hair she noticed, was not all-together just copper. Strands of dark blonde, brown, and red all intermingled as the sun shifted and weaved over his head and she hummed – how had she not noticed before?
He was attractive – strikingly so. Skin smooth and seemingly soft to the touch. She couldn’t see a single scar on his face – not so much as a wrinkle unless he smiled. He reached across with his hand, and she felt the swipe of his thumb across her wrist and her eyes were drawn down to the touch.
His hands were calloused – which was to be expected after more than a decade in the chantry scrubbing and cleaning and years of manual labour working with the poor of the world– but the ones on the pads of his fingers showed his devotion to archery, his prowess of the bow.
‘’Hawke, have you had much time to think about – ‘’
She warms, ears reddening, and she bravely lifts her face to meet his heated gaze.
‘’If – if that is what you wish – I would like to t-try.’’ She says softly and his hand on her wrist slips down to her hand, and he squeezes, his joy at the news plain in the twitching of his fingers as he lets loose a small chuckle.
‘’Oh, I definitely wish, Lass.’’ He rumbles and something strange happens to her stomach as it flips.
She lowers her lashes and laughs softly as well, this overwhelming feeling of stupidity and vulnerability so foreign it’s all she can do really.
‘’Then it is decided. Are you free for breakfast tomorrow?’’ He asks as he leans back in his chair, his hand still upon hers.
She nods, shyly, uncharacteristically shy in fact – she had killed the damned Arishok in single combat and charged headfirst when fighting dragons - but the mere idea of a date had quailed her and she curses beneath her breath.
‘’Breakfast sounds lovely.’’
‘’Perfect. Will you have need of me today? I regret that I am unable to attend any of your more exciting adventures as Elthina has need of me in several prayers to the masses today.’’
‘’I thought you had renounced your vows?’’ she tilts her head, and he nods, withdrawing his hand to pick up the last bite of her donut and she scowls half-heartedly at him as he smirks, wiping sugar off his face.
‘’Aye, I have indeed. But as that is still my home until further notice, I must earn my keep.’’ He smiles gently and she returns it.
‘’You are a good man, Sebastian Vael.’’
He blushes spectacularly and it’s so strange a look on his face when she’s the one responsible for the hue now travelling down his neck. Isabela and her mouth, her stories and shanties often had him closing his eyes and sending a prayer up to the maker with a blush but this one seemed to be one of pure happiness.
‘’Thank you, my lady. I intend to keep proving to you over the coming weeks that your faith in me is not misplaced.’’ He lifts her hand and presses a soft, lingering kiss on the back of her hand, their eyes catching and meeting, staying on course as his heat warms her belly beneath his dark lashes.
She swallows.
There goes that thing in her belly again. Maker what was happening to her body?
‘’I – I’ll see you tomorrow then.’’ She quips, aiming for airy and light but what comes out is more of a croaking toad and his head tips back as he laughs, tantalisingly long lines of his neck on display.
‘’Aye, that you will. Farewell, Marian. Until tomorrow.’’
He has the audacity to wink at her and she grabs the newspaper, thwapping it so loud she startles several pigeons to the brink of death as she hides herself behind it.''
****
‘’I cant believe you flubbed it, Big-Breasts.’’ Isabela tuts and Aveline’s scowl could send the Maker to his grave in its intensity.
‘’Shut it, whore.’’ Aveline downs a tumbler of whiskey in two gulps and sighs. Marians hand on her shoulder offering her comfort.
‘’Maker, I didn’t think it would be this difficult to – to – ‘’
‘’Confess?’’ Hawke prompts.
‘’Get laid?’’ Isabela chirps.
‘’Make a complete ass out of Hawke?’’ Varric chuckles and the guardsman thonks her forehead onto the table.
‘’Simply tell the man how you feel and be done with it, Aveline.’’ Fenris growls as he lays down his cards, Varric huffing at his hand.
‘’Have you ever confessed your interest to someone, elf?’’ the red headed guard snaps haughtily and Fenris scowls, cursing as per usual.
‘’Broody admitting to having feelings. The world would have to be ending for that to happen.’’ Varric chuckles and throws an ace on the table making Marian curse as she reshuffles the cards in her hands to plan out her next move.
‘’Oh, it would be interesting to see Fenris in love.’’ Merril pipes up breathily, but she ducks as Fenris throws a cork at her head in irritation.
‘’Now, now – play nice.’’ Marian mutters and pats his thigh in a quick tap, and he grumbles, blue flare dying out.
‘’Hawke, for what it’s worth – I’m sorry I dragged you into this.’’ Aveline lowers her eyes as she tops up her glass.
‘’He must have thought I was a complete lunatic, Aveline. What I did was near tantamount to holding him hostage in my attempts to give you time to come down.’’ Marian whines and the table titters in amusement.
‘’Would you like me to whisper a few words in his ears, Big-Breasts?’’ Isabela steals her whiskey and downs it – and Hawke sighs as the two enter a verbal sparring match across the table.
‘’I – I have a date tomorrow.’’ She whispers to Fenris, and he stiffens beside her.
‘’Is that so.’’ He says lamely, coldly even.
‘’Sebastian has asked me to breakfast… is it… is it strange to be nervous?’’ she asks as she takes her turn in wicked grace, eyes watching Varric and Merril debate the durability of yarn versus string.
‘’You ask as if I have any experience with these things.’’ He whispers back and his breath is hot in her ear, and she squirms at the sensation.
‘’Well, it’s not like I have any experience either.’’ She mumbles irritably at his disinterest, and she hears him sigh.
‘’Hawke, eat your breakfast with him, see what he has to say. Trust your gut.’’ He shrugs, cursing when Varric gives a hollering whoop of glee as he wins the round.
‘’What’s this I hear about Aveline not being the only one to catch the confession bug?’’ Varric lobs a toothpick at her and she sniffs as she flicks it onto the floor.
‘’Sebastian and Anders have … made their intentions known.’’ Hawke says sedately and ignores the thunderous and rapid questions that shoot out of her companion’s mouths. All but Fenris - whose scowl is now so severe she worried that his jaw would dislocate and clatter about the table, intent on biting each of them if they continued their line of questioning.
‘’Oh, honey, I am so jealous. Why pick one when you can have both – I can tell you stories – ‘’
‘’No.’’ Fenris grouses and sucks back his wine.
‘’I – uh, I’ll go on a few dates with them – be courted - and decide if there’s anything there.’’ Marian leans back on her chair, two of the legs lifting off the ground as she reclined, but Fenris places a hand on her knee and brings her back down with a thump.
‘’The last time you did that you were concussed for the entire day.’’ He narrows his eyes as she sticks out her tongue, pink tip pointing childishly at him, but he whips his head away from the sight.
She feels Varric’s eyes on them, the targeted gaze making both her and Fenris cock a brow.
‘’Well, shit. I suppose it’s about damned time you picked someone.’’ Varric throws her a shrewd smile, but she can’t decipher the sparkle in his eyes.
‘’Aveline – why don’t we head on over to the coast tomorrow. Us lot will clear all the ruffians for the night and you and Donnic can go on a lovely stroll at sunset. No goats, no marigolds and no sheafs of wheat for makers sakes.’’ Marian grins and Aveline snorts.
‘’You consider this to be a romantic evening then?’’ Fenris asks, tilting his head, his white bangs falling in his eyes, and she resists the urge to brush the locks out of his face.
‘’Is there a problem with my version of romance?’’ she queries and the elf snorts.
‘’It’s trite.’’ He says darkly and she bristles, eyes darkening as she turns her chair with a squawk across the floor, crossing her arms as she glares at him.
‘’Oh really? And pray tell what would you consider to be romance then?’’ she kicks his chair and his swallow on his drink spills slightly out the corner of his mouth.
‘’Romance is for fools. You should simply discuss what you feel, confirm it, and move on.’’
‘’Can’t say I expected a different answer considering who its coming from.’’ Isabela smirks and Aveline sagely nods her head.
‘’Well, my pointy-eared friend, I for one, am a reluctant romantic.’’ She scoffs as she stands, and he turns to look up at her in surprise.
‘’You can make fun of me all you want – but I think sunset on the beach is a perfect place for a confession.’’
She hoped the hurt in her eyes wasn’t showing…
‘’Aveline, tomorrow – sunset – the beach – I’ll see you there.’’ She nods and Aveline splutters in protest.
‘’Where are you going Hawke? And alone for that matter?’’ Fenris snaps, having thrown his cards down on the table and rising, grabbing his sword, and affixing it to his back.
‘’I – am going to Anders.’’ She grits out and Fenris growls at her.
‘’At this time of night? So eager to get to your suitor?’’ he snarks, and she grips her staff harder in her hand, the orb beginning to glow as her irritation with him spikes. He flashes blue at her and Varric fires a bolt from Bianca into the dartboard between them in the wall.
‘’I’ll have none of that under my roof, thank you.’’ Varric scolds them, a fatherly cadence to his voice and Hawke takes a calming breath.
‘’I’ll see you all tomorrow.’’ She grouses and disappears down the stairs.
****
‘’Anders?’’ she sticks her head round the door and grimaces, the scent of herbs and concoction unknown wrinkling her nose.
‘’Hawke?’’ he answers as he steps round a partition, and she balks when she sees the blood smeared across his hands and the front of his apron over his robes.
‘’Ah – I’m a right mess, aren’t I? We had a boy come in – rot took to his leg and I in turn had to take it off.’’ He sighs, walking over to a basin and washing his hands up to the elbow, removing his apron and setting it aflame with a click of his fingers before tossing it into a bucket.
‘’Is there anything I can do to help?’’ she asks, already rolling up her sleeves.
‘’No, no. He was sent home with his mother an hour ago – I was merely cleaning up. Forgive me, I had hoped to be more presentable the next time we saw one another.’’ He smiles softly and she tilts her head.
‘’You look good to me, Anders.’’
And it was true, despite the weariness beneath his eyes. He was tall, and lean but somehow strong and toned - whenever the sleeves of his robes lifted – she was awarded with the sight of tanned, bronze skin, tight over sleek arms, a dusting of fine blonde hair coating his limbs.
He was handsome, not conventionally so, not like Sebastian, but he exuded patience and understanding, and each line of weariness represented a life he had saved, a soul he had helped.
She admired him, his magic, his understanding of the life she had lived -as he fought so hard in the underground to make sure that others wouldn’t suffer as she did.
‘’What brings you to my humble abode?’’ he leads her over to his makeshift foyer and seats himself beside her on a bench, taking her hand and tucking her wayward locks behind her ears.
He has seen her naked – she realises in that exact moment, and she squeaks, ducking her chin into her chest and he jerks at the sound.
‘’Are you injured?’’ he asks rapidly as his hands touch and roam with a familiarity of having treated her for years. There’s nothing untoward or sexual in the grazing of his hands across her breasts down to her abdomen and she grabs his wrist to make him stop - as something snakes up her spine in pleasure.
‘’N-No… no I’m not injured. I just feel… kinda like I took a staff to the back of the head.’’
He curses and grips the nape of her neck and brings her down, her nose brushing the peeking chest hair as he examines the back of her head, and she cant help but to breathe deeply, being this close to him.
Musk, mint and the scent of soap assault her and she closes her eyes.
‘’Anders, truly, I’m alright.’’ She laughs as she disentangles his fingers from her hair and leans back, needing the space from him and her maddening, confusing feelings.
‘’Hawke, I don’t mean to pester you – but about last night – ‘’ he averts his gaze but then takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders to turn his molten brown eyes upon her.
‘’I meant what I said… you are … the most extraordinary woman I have ever met, and I would dearly love to show you how much I care for you.’’
‘’But you do, Anders, every time you run to my aid, every time you heal me – ‘’
‘’No, Hawke… I want… I want to kiss you, hold you, and take your hand when we walk. I want to bring you soup when you’re sick and tea in the quiet of the mornings in your garden where we sit together in peace.’’ He drawls and her heart may just fucking explode as he leans in closer, his nose briefly skimming hers.
‘’But on the same side of the coin – I want to make love to you, over and over again, praising your name, worshipping at your feet until you scream mine in pleasure.’’
‘’For Makers sake, Anders…!’’ Hawke gasps as she whacks both hands over her face, squirming and embarrassed yet secretly flattered to death.
‘’You think I’m being too forward? I have waited years – a lifetime really – for you, Marian. I don’t want to waste another moment with pussyfooting around.’’ He states as he leans in, placing an off-centre kiss, just an inch away from her mouth.
Hawke stands so abruptly she knocks over no less than six vials of ooze with her elbow and places a hand over heart as they smash on the floor – chuckling low and unladylike, a snort escaping her.
‘’Uh – erm… um.’’ She blabbers and he chortles behind his hand.
‘’Forgive me… I sometimes forget that the Champion of Kirkwall, slayer of Qunari and dragons alike - is so … naïve in the ways of men.’’ His honey eyes glint mischievously, and she scoffs, heading for the door.
‘’Supper tomorrow at Nathaniels? I hear they make a rather delicious pasta there.’’ He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and widens his smile – Hawke is enraptured by the sight despite having a foot out the door already.
She turns back on her heels – and nods, hoping she would make it back home before spontaneously combusting.
****
‘’MOTHERS MILK!’’ Hawke crows, once again hopping on one foot, clutching at her toes.
Somehow – in her daze, she had bypassed her home completely and had made it through Fenris’ doors.
‘’Damn him.’’ she mutters as she breathes slowly – in and out – and in - and don’t kill the elf she grouses. She flicks a light on in the room with a snap of her fingers and glares at the chest.
Right. She’d had enough of this… her toes have been separated and spread so often by this blasted hunk of wood - that she was starting to dread the day she looked down and saw webbed feet instead.
Heaving the trunk by a handle through the foyers, into the grand hall and into an antechamber off the side, she unceremoniously shoves it against the wall, and she sneers at it for good measure.
Fenris must not be home yet she reasons, as normally, he would be quick to scold her for making all this racket in the dead of the night.
Hawke sighs, rubbing the back of her neck, the events of the day catching up with her. She hoped their little spat would blow over quickly. As well as they got along ninety percent of the time – she often forgot that their tempers were evenly matched and when they fought – sparks and words would clash as they did on the battlefield.
Climbing the steps to his room – she hesitates at the door – wondering if she was committing some heinous crime by being in his rooms without him there - but she sniffs, deciding that it was too much effort to walk home and his bed – despite its dilapidated look – was the comfiest thing she had ever slept on.
Shrugging off her cloak and staff, she removed her armour and lay it neatly on the pew, before trotting over barefoot and slipping beneath his sheets.
It smelled like him.
The magical scent of Lyrium, the deep aroma of the polish for his weapons as well as just an absolute smidge of a hint of the lavender shampoo she had brought over and his natural scent – all clinging to the sheets and she hums out a contented sigh as she closes her eyes and falls asleep.
A few hours later as the bed dips, she stirs briefly and cracks open an eye – ‘’Fenris?’’ she moans groggily and hears his growly grunt before she quietly shrieks, the blanket lifting and letting in the cool air on her back as he slips in behind her.
‘’Are you still mad at me?’’ she mumbles sleepily and his arm comes around her waist, pulling her flush to his chest and she places her hand on his forearm, squeezing tight.
‘’No.’’
‘’I’m sorry.’’
…
‘’Me too.’’
She must have imagined the kiss on the nape of her neck.
****
Having slipped out at the crack of dawn, her favourite elf still fast asleep, she whistles a tune on her walk back to her home, the mansion actually, which she had nearly died for.
‘’Where in the void have you been?!’’ Leandra yells the minute she steps through the door, and she winces.
‘’Good morning to you too, Mother.’’
‘’Don’t you sass me, Missy. You have a stack of letters from the Viscount you’ve yet to respond to you and you missed De Launcet’s ball last night! The embarrassment I had to endure when they all asked where you were – ‘’ the older grey haired woman rambles, her words rising and falling on a wave of extreme irritability.
‘’Oh Maker… was that last night?’’ she murmurs apologetically, and her mothers’ green eyes burn into her soul and suddenly she was five years old again – the same sinking feeling of having just been caught trying to set the local farm boys’ hair on fire, for daring to touch her sister’s hand.
‘’Why can’t you just do this for me? Manners, etiquette, social decorum for goodness’s sake! It’s not that hard, Marian!’’ Leandra snaps, hands on her hips and Hawke sighs.
‘’If – if it makes you feel any better – I’m being courted by the prince of Starkhaven…’’ she mumbles pathetically, toeing off a boot and kicking it into the corner.
A gut-wrenching, soul-shaking, ear-splitting scream of joy leaves Leandra’s mouth and suddenly the older woman is spinning her around in circles, practically bouncing on her tiptoes in excitement.
‘’Oh Marian. Truly?! The prince?’’ Leandra excitedly claps her hands together like a seal taught to do tricks and Hawke snorts in amusement.
‘’I thought that would brighten your day.’’ She grunts as her mother hugs her for the first time in what must be two years.
‘’Marian….’’’ She suddenly sobers and grips Hawkes shoulders hard enough to hurt. ‘’You must not make any mistakes. This… this opportunity is monumentous. You could be – oh Maker… we have so much work to do. We need to contact the tailors; we need new dresses for every occasion… we should also purchase new furniture - no future Princess of Starkhaven should be seen with …’’
‘’Mother! Stop!’’ Marian flares her nostrils and the woman blinks as the orb of her staff shines white and then dims.
‘’Is he… I take it he is aware that you are an apostate?’’ Leandra sniffs and Hawke groans as she pushes past the woman and heads for her rooms.
‘’He is intimately aware, Mother, as we have fought together for almost a year. He knows, he doesn’t care.’’
‘’But the chantry – ‘’
‘’Mother, I am having breakfast with him. Not marrying him over strudels and toast!’’ she huffs and slams the door.
‘’Marian. Marian. Open this door – we must –! ‘’ she hears a dull pounding of fists but ignores it as she begins to strip in her bathroom, filling the tub and drowning out her mothers’ imploring squeals.
As she sinks into her tub, the water lapping over her breasts, she curses her mothers meddling before a sad smile slips across her lips.
She knew her mother loved her. Even though she cant recall ever having heard the words.
Oh, they flowed freely from the woman’s lips for the twins – but somehow, she had been spared that affection. Perhaps it was because her father doted on her up until the day he disappeared – maybe her mother secretly resented her for taking up so much of her dad’s time, training, and love.
Carver was an ass.
But at least he was alive. A templar in fact.
Hawke flicked some water across her knee, and it splashed loudly against the tiled floor.
He was an ass – but he loved her. He said so all the time.
Mockingly. Sarcastically. Affectionately.
Sincerely.
Depending on what mood he was in of course, and whether she had recently covered him in spiders’ guts or demon ichor.
She could admit to feeling uncontrollable rage and betrayal when she had returned from the Deep Roads, and he had up and disappeared to the Templars.
She barely heard from him these days, and he had refused to see her on the few occasions that she had tried.
Hawke dunks her head beneath the water and opens her eyes, the world swirling and shifting above her and she focuses on the steady humdrum of her heartbeat.
What was she doing even contemplating entering a relationship with one of her companions? One of her friends, no less. What if it ended horrendously? Or worse – what if it all worked out and she ended up happy? She’s not sure she’s ever felt the emotion.
Contentment. Satisfaction. At most a pleased hum leaving her on the good days – but happiness?
Could someone even be happy in Kirkwall?
She runs out of air and breaks the surface with a huge sucking gasp, and quickly sets to task, washing and cleaning for her date with the prince.
As she towels herself dry, long mane of red hair wrapped in a towel, she quirks a brow at the dress laid on her bed. A stunning royal blue, so dark so deep they could almost match Sebastians eyes. Around the waist was a thin, red belt – no buckle but she suspected that it tied in the back in some sort of pretty, girlish bow.
Staring at the dress, stark naked and with arms crossed, she rolls her eyes and gives in.
The dress is light, airy, and as it falls over her hips it flares beautifully down mid-calf, fluttering like wings as she walks across to her dressing table. She ties the red belt and twists her head over her shoulder to make sure the bow she had tied was centred. Slipping on a ridiculously soft pair of pumps in the same blue of the dress, she curses as the material pinches her toes as she shoves them further in.
Huffing, she sprays a small amount of her perfume at her wrists and beneath each ear before combing her hair, winding it all into a messy bun at the nape of her neck.
If she was going to do this – she was damned well going to do it right.
Rustling through her many drawers of things she could barely name, and of which all was purchased by her mother – she finds a hairpin, a dainty thing, which sparkles just so when caught by the light and she pins it to the side of her bun, securing it all in place.
She picks up her staff and hums – her chances of being attacked were always high… but it did rather ruin the look she was going for. She reaches to her bedside table and removes a thigh holster, a gleaming dagger gifted by Isabela, and she straps it securely to her leg.
Satisfied with her looks and her weaponry, she places her staff against the wall with a lingering stroke and she clears her throat - willing her nerves to get a hold of herself. As she exits the room her mother is waiting just outside the door.
‘’Maker’s tits, Mother!’’ she gasps as she clutches at her chest and her mother swats at her for her blasphemy.
‘’Here.’’ A thin cylindrical tube is placed in the palm of her hand and Hawke’s horrified expression makes the older woman crack out a laugh.
‘’Lipstick?! Really?’’
‘’Your skin is awfully pale, Marian. And with your red hair you need a bit of something extra. Bethany always – ‘’
Hawke tuts and steps past her, not the slightest bit interested in being compared to her sister so early in the morning.
She absentmindedly twirls the lipstick out of its case and applies it without looking, smacking her lips together and patting Brutus on the head as she passes her Mabari.
‘’Good boy. Protect the house. Keep Mother away from my bedroom please.’’
****