#not for aveline she can take care of herself but.. he did it

[h-awke-a]

varric's 'you people have done enough to him' is sooo..

[sky-fire-forever]

happy dadwc! been playing da2, so how about some varric/hawke for a prompt this week (:

-inquisimer

Thank you so much for the prompt!

My Hawke in this one is Aurora Hawke, who uses she/her pronouns

Aurora Hawke wouldn’t consider herself to be anything special. Sure, she’s the great Champion of Kirkwall, but that was mostly due to her friends and luck. Whether that’s good luck or bad luck remains to be seen. 

But she’s nothing special, honest. She’s just one woman with some good friends by her side. Friends who she’d do anything for and who would do a helluva lot for her in return if given the chance. Friends who are more like family, especially after everything she’s lost. 

It’s strange, feeling so loved by her friends. By the people she’d give up her life for. She’s used to being self-sacrificing, but she’s less used to being surrounded by people who won’t let her throw her life away. Who care about her as much as she cares about them. 

Of course her mother loved her, as did her siblings, but it just isn’t the same. People just aren’t meant to love people like Aurora the way she loves them. 

And yet they do. 

She can't imagine why. 

She grins as Anders tells another bad joke and Fenris rolls his eyes. The two of them may act like they hate each other, but she knows their little secret: they'd die for each other if need be. She watches Merrill curl up halfway in Isabela's lap and catches Sebastian and Aveline in some sort of deep conversation. Everyone is right at home, as they should be.

Varric is sitting at Aurora's side, as he always is. Always right beside her, always there for her to rely on. She appreciates Varric more than anyone could possibly know.

“You look lost in thought, giggles,” Varric points out with a grin. “Copper for your thoughts?”

She shoots him a grin. “Only a copper?”

“I've got bills to pay, Hawke.” 

“And you have plenty of money to pay them with.” Aurora takes a sip from her drink. “I'm just… happy,” she admits. 

Varric raises an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

“Yeah.” She looks around at her friends and sighs wistfully. “I didn't know I could be this happy.”

Varric sets his drink down and reaches over to lay a hand on her arm. “Well, you know you deserve it, right?” He squeezes her arm. “With all the shit you've been through? If anyone deserves a fucking break, it's you.”

Aurora shrugs. “Maybe. It's still nice to appreciate it now and then.”

Varric grins. “Good. Appreciate it.”

They lapse into silence, Aurora listening in on the debate that's erupted between Anders, Merrill, and Sebastian. It’s nice to listen to them bicker, to know they inspire huge feelings from one another despite their claims that they couldn’t care less about each other. They’d only get so worked up if they cared what the others thought, after all. 

She gets up to get another drink and hears Varric follow after her. “Can't get enough of me?” She teases while hoping it's true. 

Varric chuckles. “I just needed a refill.” He holds up his empty cup. 

Aurora pouts at him. “You don't need to make up excuses, Varric. If you wanted to confess your love for me where no one can hear, you just needed to say the word.”

It's a tease, a game the two of them play. But she finds herself wishing it was more than that even though she knows it can't be. Varric sees her as a friend and she's grateful for his friendship. It's all she can ask for. 

Varric rolls his eyes. “You wish.”

She does. 

They stand together by the bar while Corff refills their drinks and Aurora looks back at her friends. They're still arguing, but there's a smile on Isabela's face as her hand rests on Merrill's back and there's a look of exasperated fondness on Anders’ face as he tears Fenris’ argument apart. They may be arguing, but they love each other, each and every one of them. 

“It's thanks to you, you know,” Varric says.

“Huh?”

“You're the one who brought us all together, oh great Champion of Kirkwall.” He gestures to the table where their friends sit. “And you're the real reason why we all stay.”

Aurora feels her cheeks heat up in a blush. “You're exaggerating again, Varric. You better catch yourself before your stories run away with you.”

“This isn't a story.” Varric shifts so he's facing Aurora completely, looking up and into her eyes. “We care about each other, sure. But we never would have if it weren't for you.”

The open honesty on Varric’s face is overwhelming, so Aurora looks away. “I think you've drank too much,” she teases because she can't think of any honest way to respond without embarrassing herself. 

Varric shrugs. “Maybe, but you're something special, Hawke. Remember that, would you?”

And then he's walking back to the table, leaving Aurora to stare after him, the blush not gone from her face. 

[honeycollectswhump]

Gone, gone

[masterlist]

CW: accidental self-harm-like actions, suicidal ideation (NOT acted upon), blood, emeto, loss of a friend, mental breakdown, referenced: substance abuse, pet whump recapture

The plates are the first thing she sees. She had set the table and prepared dinner. The sauce is still in the pot, now cold. Aveline should put the pot aside, clean away the remains of what was supposed to be their meal. She doesn’t. 

The plates are the first thing she sees, and she tears them down. She swipes over the table, not stopping as they shatter on the ground. Gone.

The glasses are next. Intricate, little designs that once belonged to her old landlady. Aveline pushes her palms into the glass, crushing them until shards dig into her flesh. She doesn’t feel anything. Blood seeps into the tablecloth, that's how she knows, the knowledge just barely grazing her mind but leaving no impact. Gone. 

Tears blur her vision, as the grabs the cloth. A breath, then two. With a jerk, she rips and tears, cutlery clattering to the ground. Aveline claws at it. She wants it to hurt. It can never hurt, she can never hurt, but she wants to. 

This is pain, she thinks, this must be pain. 

A scream wrenches itself from her throat. Her voice cracks. She cracks. She is in her body and she is not. The sight of her home disgusts her, it destroys her. If she is loud enough she won’t have to hear herself. 

A glint of the sun against one of their pictures catches her eye. Aveline whirls around, cloth in hand, disoriented. She stumbles against the wall, the cloth getting caught on the frame, and she tears and tears and tears. 

The photo falls to the ground, breaking on impact. There is a crack over his face, there is a crack over Atlas’ face and he’s gone. Aveline stares at it, at the ruined picture, at what she’ll never have again. Gone. He’s gone.

The thought settles over her like a fog, taking over. Someone is screaming, she is screaming, and she’s breaking apart at the seams. Aveline yanks at the coffee machine and throws it across the room. It collides with a cabinet, the booming sound ringing through their empty house. Filling the silence between her screams, her sobs. Gone.

There are still shards stuck in her hand as Aveline lurches forward to retch into the sink, her ears filled with a deafening ring. Nothing but bile comes up but she feels like she can see pieces of her very soul laying exposed to the world, ugly and rotten, with fraying edges. Fat tears roll down her face, dripping down and mixing with droplets of blood. Gone.

Aveline crumbles to the ground, falling hard on her knees, barely registering the impact that will leave her with bruises she will never be able to feel.

It doesn’t make sense! 

Atlas was supposed to go out for a short walk, he was supposed to come back just in time for dinner. He didn’t even take his phone with him. 

They told her he’d run away, like he did before, from his old life. But Aveline knows, she knows, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t run without preparation, he’d take money with him, or a proper jacket or anything at all. 

They don’t trust him, they say there is no evidence. They say it’s to be expected of someone like him, someone like her Attie, especially with his addiction. 

He is six months sober now, but they don’t believe him or they don’t care. To them, it doesn’t matter how hard he worked to get to this point, how much blood, sweat and tears went into this. Atlas had fought to get bits and pieces of his life back, that his old Master had stolen from him. It would be all for nothing now. 

Atlas is gone, he was taken. 

And no one will do anything.

It hits her then, all at once. 

There is nothing.

There is no hint, no message, no reason. No evidence and no case. No one to turn to, no one to lead the search. 

He’s alone, she’s utterly alone and he’s gone. 

Gone. 

The moon rises. It takes a while for Aveline to notice the shift in light, to notice that the taunting sunset has given way to the cold moonlight. Distantly Aveline thinks her knees must hurt, her joints must be stiff. Time simply passes by her without touching her and it’s not like her body can tell her otherwise.

The blood has started to dry, sticking to her skin and clothes in clumps. She is barely there, her mind moving through a swamp of numbness. This must be pain and it will kill her. 

It will eat her from the inside out until there is nothing left and Aveline will welcome the bliss of nothingness with open arms. She can’t do this, she simply can’t. She can’t continue on with her life, as if nothing happened, can’t imagine a life without him, without her Attie. 

She wishes him back, begs for him, even if in his darkest days, high or drunk, she doesn’t care, she’d take it all if just to get him back. Having him back, anything would be enough.

Maybe she will die like this. Aveline contemplates never moving again, it has nothing left to give anymore. Maybe she will starve or die of thirst, maybe her heart will just mercifully stop beating. If it doesn’t, she could help, doing nothing but accelerating a natural process. 

Then he’d be gone and she would never have to feel this torment again because she’d be gone too.

Still, something inside her fights the thought, sending a spike of urgent desperation up and down her spine. 

Atlas, her Atlas isn’t dead. He is gone for her but he isn’t gone gone.

He would be if she gives up. He’d be gone, in the sense that he could never be there again if there isn’t someone fighting for him.

Someone has to do something.

It won’t be any law enforcement and it won’t be the Pet Lib shelter Attie told her about either, the one that had helped him become who he is now, doesn’t believe her or in him. Maybe she could ask around in Pet Lib groups but it’s not like Atlas ever gave her access to their resources and Aveline knows they are notoriously impossible to find for outsiders.

And what can a girl like her do anyways? She has nothing but her mind and her body and that can never be enough when all the world demands is money and power.

But there is no alternative, is there? If Aveline doesn’t do anything, then no one will, and then Atlas will be left all alone in whatever hell has claimed him. 

She is nothing without Atlas and maybe these feelings will pass but Aveline hopes they don’t. She holds onto the longing, the desperation, making her frantic, making her shake.

In the end, Aveline has everything to give. If she loses her mind or loses her body, it will be no different from now. And for now, it’s enough to help her get up, to help her move, even if she is just a tool to get her Atlas back.

taglist: @octopus-reactivated let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

[shivunin]

So I saw your tags on the types of love ask and I'm also obsessed with the first weeks and months after Fenris and Hawke break up lol!! I would love to hear more of your thoughts about what Maria and Fenris are feeling/thinking esp wrt fighting together, how the kirkwall group sees them, and just generally how they cope with not being "together" but still being around each other all the time.

Oooh anon, I tried to keep this a reasonable length and I failed haha. In my defense, I have 30k words of unfinished fic answering this very question and I pared it down as best I could.

So:

I think the immediate aftermath is, of course, the most painful--but it's also the most careful on her part. Analysis sets in for her pretty quickly about a day later, when her head is more clear: she loves him and she doesn't believe that loving him gives her a right to take his friends and home away. Hawke is very aware that she has the power to do this if she isn't careful.

What can she do about it? Give him space. Make sure he knows he's still welcome. Keep inviting him to things where many of her other friends are present. Never touch him unless she has no other choice, because she knows she'll give herself away. Look at him directly as little as possible (this one is for her own sake---watching him is like putting her thumb on a bruise to make sure it's still there). Be alone rarely, if ever, and if alone then at a great distance. No more walking home together; no more late nights reading in her library before the fire; no more long goodbyes at her door. She tries so hard to be careful with him and instead she is stiff and overly polite.

It hurts. For both of them. I've talked before about how friendship is the bedrock of their relationship to me, and for a while they lose that, too. Maria's fatal flaw is that she thinks she can perfectly read everyone around her. She assumes that the boundaries she's drawn are good for both of them and she never, ever asks Fenris what he thinks or wants---because that would mean talking about it.

Fighting is rough for a while, because one of them is now dedicated to not paying attention to the other. They both get hurt, badly, in the few weeks immediately after that night. Fenris occasionally slips and calls her Maria (he can't get it out of his head no matter how much he'd like to). Hawke occasionally slips and pats his shoulder or elbows him to make a joke before she remembers and pulls away again.

At last, they get in a really big argument over what Fenris says to Merrill during Mirror Image. Maria loses her temper (she usually keeps a very tight leash on it) and says some things she doesn't mean---the subtext being, if she is a monster then I am a monster. If you knew that before, then why did you ever pretend you wanted me? She does not say this explicitly, because I think she doesn't actually want to know the answer. She apologizes as best she can without actually acknowledging what happened, but now that is festering between them, too.

All of their friends definitely know what's going on. They had front-row seats to the budding flirtation, the tiny gestures of affection...and now they also get to see Hawke putting herself as far away from him as possible, Fenris's absolute refusal to discuss any of it, the pained way he looks at her when she isn't watching, and so on. How can they not know? I think Varric and Isabela try to discuss it with Maria, in their respective ways, and she laughs it off. I think Anders probably makes a pointed comment and she bats that away, too. (Actually, Aveline might be the only one who's still oblivious, judging by the dialogue in her Act 2 quest.)

She does eventually confide in Sebastian, because he's supposed to take confessions, isn't he? Surely this is not so bad a thing to carry, in comparison to everything else. In the end, all she really wants is her friend back and she doesn't know how to get back what they've lost. She blames herself far more than she blames Fenris (Hawke should be able to fix everything always, obviously). Before she can come to any conclusions about how to patch things up, Leandra dies and she really starts spiraling.

When she finally emerges from the big blank space immediately following the funeral, Hawke is erratic. She gets drunk and sloppy, she throws herself into fights she couldn't possibly win, and she stops being careful with Fenris.

(For the record--I think he prefers the minor arguments to Hawke being polite with him. Maria is polite with Meredith and Marethari and the Viscount and the Arishok. She is friendly or charming or crass with everyone else. Being on the receiving end of cordiality was far, far worse than anything she pulls while she's grieving.)

Again--it takes something big to knock her out of this spiral. Luckily, Kirkwall has no shortage of shitshows. Hawke faces down death, comes to terms with the fact that she's just going to have to be in unrequited love with Fenris forever, and acquires a new title, not necessarily in that order. Fenris watches her die, acknowledges privately that he would rather be with her than without her regardless of what they are to each other or what dangers they face, and is there with her when she needs him the most.

Some of those boundaries stick around--she doesn't look at him often or for too long, which he hates, and they don't spend much time alone together. But slowly, slowly, they rebuild their rapport. Hawke and Fenris respect each other deeply; I think that's what makes the rest of it possible. Love is one thing---messy and busy and too heavy by far---but respect is something they both understand, and it's a good enough foundation to build on. She does love him; if she could make it into a purely platonic love, she absolutely would. More importantly, Maria trusts him and he clearly feels the same. It takes time, but they get back much of what they lost.

I want to be clear: she never thinks of any of this as biding her time for him to realize he wants her; she knows that he never will. She also knows she has to be okay with that if they're going to be friends again, and that matters to her most of all. It would have broken her heart to lose him because she couldn't move on.

For Fenris's part--I don't know how much of his reaction is guilt and how much is being caught essentially flat-footed. I cannot imagine what it would be like to work up to wanting to be emotionally intimate with someone (physical intimacy entirely aside) and then have that comfort entirely ripped away because of something he feels solely responsible for.

So, anon, to answer your question:

They deal with it by letting what happened between them be the third party in the room, ultimately. They both know what happened; they know that talking about it by now is more likely to open up wounds than it is to heal them. What they have is immeasurably valuable to both of them. If he still dreams about holding her, if she measures every suitor at her door against Fenris, well---that's for them to handle alone. Nobody else needs to know.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

“Tell me what you would have of me then. But I won’t forget you blackmailed me into it,” Loraine Hawke, Lorry to her friends (but does she want Anders calling her that anymore?) says through clenched teeth.

He looks back with no shame, just acceptance.

She hates him almost as much as she respects him.

-

"Oh I'm not made for responsibility," Lorry says with a laugh and playful grimace. Varric laughs.

"Me either," he jokes and raises his cup. It's the first time someone hasn't rolled their eyes or told her she should grow up.

She likes it.

-

Lorry is born to a couple who should never have gotten together according to society. But they love each other. Love is enough.

Enough for a man born with magic thrumming in his veins who has never had to pay for things. Enough for a woman born rich who’s never thought about an empty coin purse.

It’s enough.

Or so they say.

-

Leandra never tells her husband her hopes for their eldest. Of how Lorry could go to Kirkwall one day, grown up, to impress her grandparents who would make her their heir. Of how Lorry would then sneak them into the city so Leandra can have her old comforts back.

Similarly, Malcom never speaks of his hopes that Lorry could speak of being raised by a mage with no worry. That his daughter would have no magic, and she could be proof mages could be free.

It will take years before Lorry’s magic bubbles out. She will be thirteen and would use ice by accident when upset during an argument.

Both their dreams shatter.

-

Lorry rolls her eyes and sighs during another lecture from Aveline about responsibility. “Can I not and say I did?”

“Lorry-“ Aveline frowns and it makes Lorry want to snarl the other woman was not her mother.

“What? This is boring,” Lorry whines. Aveline crosses her arms and ugh. Lorry is out. She leaves the room as Aveline grumbles. Isabela is waiting still, and the sight of the other woman makes Lorry’s shoulders relax. The mage creeps up behind her friend and wraps her arms around the sturdy waist of the pirate.

"Hey," Lorry kisses Isabela. "Want to go raid a pirate stash?"

"Oh yes," Isabela grins.

-

Lorry started helping raise her siblings when she was eight and her daddy caught a sickness he will never quite shake.

She hates it. She wants to play not take care of the babies but her mother makes her, says it will be good practice for the future. Lorry sighs and abandons her plans for the day to take care of her siblings.

They’re annoying. She hates it.

She ends up their primary caretaker when her father gets sicker.

(She hates them.)

-

Malcom never knew how to handle money. Leandra was not used to budgeting, and so Lorry finds herself working over the family finaces after the Chantry sister taught her maths.

Lorry tries to get her parents to listen to her, but neither actually do. They're to busy focusing on the twins, or each other.

They don't feel the need to learn how to handle money better with Lorry in charge.

She hates it.

-

Lorry throws her head back and cackles as she wins again, Fenris throwing his cards down in disgust. He curses at her in Teverne, and she sticks her tongue out.

"How are you doing this Hawke?" laughs Varric, forking over his coins.

"A lady never tells," Lorry strikes a pose, running her hand through her hair. She'd taken her dreadlocks out a week before to give her hair time to relax.

"A lady? Where?" Carver snorts and her shoulders tighten. She looks at Carver who glares back, and the uneasy tension originally between them strikes.

"I dunno brother, maybe at the brothel? I'm sure you saw her last night," Lorry mocks and Carver glares.

"Jokes again?" he sneers.

The nice atmosphere leaves, and Lorry finds herself being scolded by her mother for gambling, never mind she doubled their funds.

Ugh.

-

Lorry ducks out of any conversation with Anders longer then a few minutes and pretends to be deaf when he discusses mage rights. Oh she shows up when he talks about a raid or offers help smuggling some young mages out of Kirkwall with their families, but she refuses to get more involved then that.

"Sorry, that's not for me," she laughs nervously when Anders talks about symbols and being part of the mage underground.

She doesn't want that much responsibility thanks.

But they keep talking to her and she finds out Anders told them she was interested.

She starts lying to him after, and leaving him behind more.

Asshole.

-

Lorry is sixteen when her father loses his battle with his illness. Leandra breaks and Lorry suddenly is working three jobs while keeping the house running. She shoves food into the twins and tries not to resent them, even as Carver whines he doesn't need to listen to her while Bethany just frustrates Lorry. The crying and sniffling and everything drives Lorry insane because she doesn't get to do it.

She has to be the adult, the parent. The twins get to be children.

It's not fair.

-

Leandra slaps Lorry when her daughter advises her to get a job, and they begin arguing about duties of a parent.

"Stop wallowing!" Lorry screams, age eighteen and sick of everything. "Dad's dead so who fucking-"

The slap is unexpected and Leandra freezes in shock. Lorry stands there, and looks at her mother.

"You hit me again, I'll turn you inside out. You hit the twins, I light you on fire," Lorry promises. She leaves and comes back a week later to find Leandra actually parenting the children, a set of clothes that need sewing on the table she had taken on for neighbours.

They never speak of it.

-

"We know what happens to people who leave dear sister's sight," Carver growls and the words that come out nearly crush Lorry. "Look at what happened to Bethany-"

She punches him in the face and he swings back. They're fighting in the street, neither wanting to be in Gamlen's house after discovering the truth of the will. They had been talking, and... and...

"Fuck you!" Lorry screams, tears in her eyes. "You don't get to say that about Bethany!"

"FUCK YOU!" Carver shouts back. "Thinking your better then me-"

"I sure fucking am if you bring her up like that! I raised you brats! SHE WAS MY BABY SISTER AND SHE'S DEAD!"

Oh Maker, Bethany is dead.

Lorry stops hitting Carver, stumbling back with harsh sobs coming from her lips. He's crying to.

They sit there for a while, tears painting their faces.

-

Lorry swears off men and children in a drunken rant to Isabela, after a night of fantastic sex. They were simply existing together, and Lorry just had to talk about it. The reasons spill from her lips. But most of all, Lorry says, she just doesn't want the responsibility of it all.

"I'm not made for it," she laughs.

Isabela hugs her tight, and the words are never said again.

-

Lorry still takes care of the house, and finds Leandra backslides in Kirkwall. She can't be assed to care much, focusing on the expedition plans instead. Carver notices, and his face is focused.

They argue still. Less so after the Bethany screaming match, where they'd fought like cats and dogs, both crying like children afterwards.

Lorry can't bring herself to care. She is his sister, not his mother.

It's this reason she agrees to take him to the Deep Roads as Leandra begs her not to. He's not a baby, he's an adult. He was part of the army. It's better he goes, right?

(He chokes on Blight and Lorry yells at Stroud if her brother dies he will to.)

-

Lorry hates responsibility, and refuses to be anything like it when they get the house back. Leandra steps up to the plate and Lorry wants to shake her for FINALLY being an adult when she starts running the house.

Instead Lorry decides being a layabout is her best plan. She hangs out at the Tavern, she plays card games. She causes trouble and drags her friends treasure hunting.

it's Merrill who figures it out first, and the smile the elf gives Lorry is to understanding. Lorry's never had a real childhood. To busy being told she would do certain things, and then raising her siblings.

So she takes the chance to have one.

-

"Dad hated blood magic," Lorry says in the Deep Roads while fighting her father's legacy. "Says it wasn't worth it."

Carver never got the lecture, and he's... silent. Mostly. He snarked about Malcom being wrong twice over, with two of his children having magic. It hurt.

It always hurts.

"Wonder what else he lied about," Lorry says with the wisdom of a child who already saw how human her parents were.

-

Anders tries to rope Lorry into more missions but she plays dumb, focusing on her own thing. She flirts with Isabela and sleeps with her to. She plays cards with Isabela and goes for walks with Merrill. She and Fenris drink or go out to raid slaver dens.

"Don't you care about the plight of mages?!" Anders demands with a spirit crackling in his mind.

"I do, I just don't want what you want for me." Lorry says. "I'm not taking any more responsibility then I have to."

"Grow up!" Anders is frustrated.

Lorry's been a grown up to long. Let her live.

-

Aveline is bad to, and Lorry happily shoves Donnic into her arms for a brief respite, hiding out at the Hanged Man while swiping the tabacoo Varric keeps in his room to roll some up for a quick smoke. He rolls his eyes but lets her, a tightness to his face.

He understands. He understands to well.

It's nice to be around people who understand.

-

Leandra dies, looking up at a child she had harmed, one she had dismissed and belittled. A child she smiles at one last time, and tells a truth that she long since hidden.

"You've made me proud," she tells her daughter who looks shocked. "No matter what- you always... always led your own path... I'm so... proud..."

Lorry sits there with her mother in her arms, and wonders what the fuck just happened.

-

"Why couldn't you be normal like Carver?" Gamlen rages and Lorry flinches, her chair jerking back. He looks apologetic as she stands, staring at him.

"Please leave," she says.

"I will. I'm... I'm sorry." he says. They aren't close. Gamlen is to much like the parents she remembers from her childhood for her to call them close at all, with his bad money habits. But he is more aware then Leandra had been. Or Malcom.

It still hurts.

-

Isabela is the reason the Qunari are in Kirkwall and it makes Lorry want to laugh. Of course she is.

She promises Isabela the relic and means it, promises that they won’t make her give it up…

And she runs. Lorry reads the note the woman she loves sleep with left over and over again until the night comes and she goes to the Compound where everything gets worse.

-

“So much for being responsible,” Lorry snaps at Aveline who frowns.

“You can’t-“

“My mother died because you didn’t look into the bones more. And now you refused to look into the case of rape committed by your guards leading to this,” Lorry hisses as she motions to the chaos.

“Isabela stole-“

“We all know she’s a thief and a liar. I’m actually less shocked by the fact that she is the reason the Qunari are in Kirkwall and more that she admitted it. But you’re just as much to blame Captain,” Lorry mocks and shoves past her ‘friend’.

What a fucking friend.

-

Isabela comes back and Lorry laughs but then she’s in the middle of a fight with the Arishok being called Basalit-An because she made an effort twice to tell him of dead men and didn’t lie to him about things.

God the bar is low isn’t it?

She wins. She stands there listening to the crowd cheer and has to hide a smirk as Meredith grinds her teeth.

Then she’s made Champion and it feels like she’s in free fall.

Fuck.

-

She shaves her head after the fight. The Arishok got her locks with a swing so half of them are lopsided.

Varric tells her it suits her and Lorry rolls her eyes as she looks to the bar where Isabela is still missing.

-

When Lorry was younger her mother braided her hair. Tight braids against her skull to keep her hair out of her face. They stayed in a long time and Lorry liked them. Then she saw a woman with a similar hair type as hers with dreadlocks and she started doing those instead. Leandra had laughed and tried it to, though she preferred her hair loose and short.

(Bethany had the longest hair in braids reaching down her back while Malcom had pin straight hair he kept short. Carver had a wave but nothing like the curls the women had. He was jealous of it.)

Lorry cheated a bit with a minor magic application to get her hair longer after a few months, just enough she could braid it down tightly to her skull.

Gamlen chokes when he sees her, one of her weekly visits.

“You look like your mother.” He says.

Lorry… isn’t sure how she feels about it.

(She wakes up panting with the murmurs of a dead man “oh this beautiful face” in her ear. She stumbles out of bed to use an ice spell, making water after melting it to splash her face.

She doesn’t sleep well.)

-

A Qunari named Tallis (who is an elf actually) needs her help and Lorry goes. She’s bored, and Carver is there playing nice.

He stares at her with her braids and comments she looks like Mother.

She rolls her eyes. “Why does everyone say that?”

“Because you do. At least you don’t act like she did,” Carver says and Lorry snickers, unable to help it. He smiles back.

-

After the whole Duke Prosper thing, she and Carver sit in a tavern passing a bottle of rum between them.

“Remember when…”

“Oh Maker. Mother was furious.”

“I don’t think you experienced this but one time…”

“They always expected things from me. To be a perfect daughter, to make our names known. To be the perfect Amell heir.”

“Mother talked about me being Lord Amell. She thought Gamlen would never marry.”

“Maker, I need more beer.”

They part ways with a hangover and lighter hearts.

-

Lorry has her hair in dreadlocks again when Meredith and Orsino argue outside the Keep. She rolls her eyes and refuses to pick a side, needling both.

She knows what Anders wants her to do, and she rolls her eyes when she sees his look from the crowd. Ugh.

(“He’s to far gone,” Merrill whispers late at night as they sit in the Amell home, fresh off a discussion of magic. Anders comes from time to time, offering the Circle point of view, but Lorry’s ‘fuck it let’s try this’ and Merrill’s three parts traditional, two parts winging it and one part blood magic pisses him off to much.

“I know,” Lorry says. She tastes it in the air, like how Merrill sees it in his eyes.

Anders is gone. What’s left is a man possessed by a Spirit.

“Do you think we ever knew him?” Lorry asks as she picks up the letter Carver sent with his messages, a letter from the Hero of Ferelden to his former clanmate Merrill. The elf takes it like it’s gold as she shakes her head.

“I don’t think so.” She whispers.

They probably didn’t.)

-

Sebastian oddly enough is one of Lorry’s favourite people to spend time with. She’s not a religious person. Not really anyway, she says the Chant and does believe but she isn’t… devoted. She thinks the Chantry could do with some changes and privately believes Andraste’s words were taken and twisted by assholes with chips on their shoulders but she still believes.

Sebastian is kind, and he struggles much like she does with the responsibility on his shoulders.

“I should go back,” he says.

“It’s up to you,” Lorry says, and she provides a safe space when he needs to avoid Elthina preaching on about birthrights only to turn around and talk about the Maker. The duty Sebastian has as a Chantry Brother.

“Is it?” Sebastian asks.

“Yes.” Lorry says. She will make sure it is.

-

“I’m falling for you!” Isabela says and Lorry’s heart beats. She stares at a woman she’s slept with more than once, who half lives in the big old manor in Hightown with her. Who came back, and smiled and…

“I love you to.” Lorry says.

She means it.

-

Hunting down mages who Meredith deems trouble nets two blood mages and one sad sack they sent back to the Circle after Lorry correctly figured out he’d die out there.

Lorry and Merrill sit on a roof together.

“I’m done with blood magic,” Lorry says. A secret she’s kept is her dabbling in it. Only Merrill knows.

“I’m not.”

“I’d never ask you to stop.” Lorry says. Merrill smiles.

-

Aveline hears she coddles the guards and her face breaks. She speaks quietly of how Donnic was asked by some of her men to influence her to give cushy positions to them.

"They though a Kirkwall man would make me soft. He loves me, but..." Aveline sighs. "I let to much slide already."

"Oh?" Lorry asks.

"You were right when you screamed at me. Right about me not wanting to look to closely at things. I messed up," it's an honest truth and Aveline looks at her friend with a true apology in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Do better," is all Lorry can say. Do better. Be better. Be the guard captain she claims to be.

Aveline does.

-

The Keeper dies on a mountain and Merrill speaks of the woman who had been mother, teacher, taskmaster... abuser.

Sebastian keeps his lips closed but the uncomfortable experssion dawning as Merrill discusses how two faced Marethari had been, how she praised Merrill one second to tear her down the next, strikes a cord.

Lorry, the child born to two children who didn't know better and didn't want to learn since they could rely on their child, gets it. She steals tabacoo from Varric, pressing it into Merrill's hands. A sprig of jasmine is brought the next time Lorry finds herself at Merrill's and the human sits while Merrill speaks of told tales.

The jasmine is burned in an offering and Lorry goes home thinking.

-

"An exalted march?" Sebastian says, and Elthina will not listen, will not bow. Lorry rolls her eyes when she's with Isabela, and away from Sebastian who puts pieces together but still isn't ready to speak.

"He isn't willing to see that Elthina thinks she'll be protected. By the mages she seems to support or Meredith who views her as a saint. Or by him if he becomes Prince while a brother," Lorry says. It's a thought brought up by Varric during a game of Wicked Grace with just him, Isabela and Lorry. It makes a frightening amount of sense.

"He's in for a rude awakening," Isabela murmurs. Her ears are on the sea, and growing as she calls up old contacts and subtly sets a few military folks on her old boss's trail.

"Let's hope it's not that bad."

-

Varric never got over what Bartrand did. But he is still his brother, and the house they sold is haunted. By something Varric fears will come after his brother later. So they go looking and find a shard of the idol.

Lorry lets Varric keep it, seeing the need to save his brother.

Even if it is to later punch him in the face.

-

"YOU BASTARDS TOOK MY BROTHER!" Lorry screams at the Templar she once helped who flinches.

"It-" he fails and Lorry shoulders past him with a hiss.

"Leave Kirkwall," she tells him, heading out to find her brother where he's under a spell from a blood mage.

She's good at killing those.

Carver wakes up from the spell and his face flickers. "I'm in your debt... and shadow..." he trails off. He's treading water. Lorry half smiles in response.

He's alive. That's what matters.

-

"That's enough," Lorry steals the bottle from Fenris to take her own drink, the man glaring at the wall. "This is to fruity. Why do you like wine?"

"Better then whisky," he says back. "How could she..."

"Some families aren't worth shit," Lorry tells him. She understands his pain, his own sister tried to sell him back to his tormentor in hopes of something shiny for herself.

"Is yours?" Fenris asks.

"I think it is now," Lorry says, thinking of Carver. Even Gamlen, more so after they found Charade and introduced the daughter to her father. He's an ass and Lorry prefers not to be around him, but he was there tells Templars she isn't a mage, or offering his home to his family when he didn't need to. He cares. Leandra to cared, Malcom, Bethany... they all cared. It wasn't a great family. But... "A lot better then yours. And Varrics. And Isabelas... wow, most families suck here." she jokes and Fenris shakes his head. "I consider you a brother," Lorry tells him. "If you want another mage sister."

"... I suppose I could do worse."

She'll take it.

-

Anders needs help, and she wants to punch him in the face.

She respects Anders. He fights for the rights of mages, and works his fingers to the bone. She's had to wrangle him into bed, and he is unstoppable in a fight. She respects him.

She sure as hell kind of hates him for his constant pushing about her duty.

He says he wants to seperate him and Justice, and something about it sets her teeth on edge. She goes along with it, because who knows and then...

"Distract the Grand Cleric." She doesn't want to, but he talks her around and she hates him so much at times.

She does it, and sets up her own downfall.

-

"There is no compromise."

The sky turns red with flame and magic. Lorry stands in a city she was thrust into taking responsibility for, and stares at a man she respected.

A man who was never just a man, but always had a Spirit inside leading him along.

She respects Anders still, which is why she asks him, "Knife, magic or poison."

He chooses the knife.

-

It's a mess, fighting through the streets and taking down abominations along with Templars. Carver is picked up on the way, the man having heard rumours of Meredith trying to get the Right of Annulment. He runs to save his sister, and it's the nicest thing he's done for Lorry.

They fight together, and make it to the Circle Tower where they have their final stand. There, Lorry speaks to her friends.

Aveline, who learned better.

Varric, who laughs and promises this will be a story for the ages.

Merrill who smiles and presses bloody finger tips to Lorry's hand, a silent oath.

Fenris who sighs, complains about helping mages but knows it is right.

Sebastian, who is broken and sad, but wants to do the right thing.

Isabela, who kisses her and makes her promise to stay alive. Lorry will keep it.

And Carver...

“I’m proud to call you sister. That’s gone unsaid to long.” Carver says and Lorry falls into her baby brother’s arms, hugging him as she struggles to hold back her tears.

“I’m sorry.” She breathes.

“I’m sorry to Lorry.”

-

“We’re getting out,” a promise. An oath. A vow. “And I’m buying when we do.” A jest.

Carver rolls his eyes. Aveline snorts as Merril shares a giggle with Sebastian who looks almost embarrassed. Varric grins. Isabela smiles.

Lorry isn’t one for responsibility.

But she takes it on, for her family.

[shutupaboutandraste]

“Hear this now — I will always come for you” for Fenders? <3

OKAY so like. I saw this and was just immediately inspired and knew exactly what I wanted to write so I hope you like it!

It's more pre-ship, buuuuut still Fenders.

Words: 3203 Pairing: Fenris/Anders For @dadrunkwriting

ACT I

To say Fenris didn’t trust Anders would be an understatement. An abomination through and through, he would never understand Hawke’s trust in him. Perhaps, it was because of her sister-- Bethany always seemed to vouch for him, something else that made Fenris’ head spin. Never before Bethany Hawke had he seen a mage so in control of themself. Yet, there was Bethany who shined in beauty, grace, and kindness all without being possessed or resorting to blood magic. He had only known her for a short time since he was approached by Hawke’s motley crew.

Still, he stuck by them, despite it all. Hawke had become a good friend in the short time he had known her. Even if her taste in women was… questionable. Anyone with eyes could see the tall warrior had affection for the Dalish blood mage of all people. Of course, that did exclude the elf in question. Merrill seemed entirely blind, even when Hawke told her that she was free to call her Aingheal. To everyone else, that name seemed off limits and Merrill seemed content to leave it that way for herself. Strange woman…

There were days he thought about leaving. Danarius could arrive any day on the doorstep of his borrowed mansion any day. The thought of leaving, however, left the taste of ash in his mouth. Little things were what he would miss-- Hawke coming to check in on him, coming back to the mansion to find little plates of food from Merrill, Isabela’s flirting, all of it. Loyalty threaded into Hawke’s group, evident in the way they watched each other’s back in battle to those little gestures Fenris had grown fond of in the past few months. Echoes of his days with the Fog Warriors sang softly within him.

These thoughts tumbled and toppled over each other with each passing day. Fenris took each one in and compartmentalized it within. These were the people that he had thrown his lot in with, for better or worse. Yet, he never knew if Merrill would be possessed by a demon, or whether Anders would suddenly turn on them to fulfill the desires of Vengeance. So, when Anders was still glowing after an encounter with a Tal Vashoth mercenary group on the wounded coast, Fenris leaped into action.

His brands lit up as he reached for Anders. Justice’s glare flashed his way, but he did not flinch. The only thing that stopped him was Hawke’s sword in his way. His heels let him skid to a stop just in time to avoid phasing through it. There was always a chance that phasing through a weapon would just wind up with him impaled.

“What the hell, Fenris?”

Varric whistled, “Easy, Broody! That one is friendly.”

“Hardly,” he snarled, “Why is your demon still active, mage?”

“I AM NO DEMON,” boomed that voice that both was and was not Anders. Still, it didn’t argue further, seemingly releasing Anders for its thrall.

Anders snarled at him, “Justice was fine! You could have killed me!”

Fenris crossed his arms, holding his head high, acting as if he could stand down the taller man, “And you could have killed Hawke.”

Hawke scoffed, “I can fight my own battles. Thanks. Justice doesn’t scare me.”

There she went again, trusting the fool mage and his demon. Even though Fenris had warned her of all he saw in Tevinter, Hawke insisted that she knew better. One day she might live to regret it. Fenris hoped that he didn’t live to see that day. For all his terse nature, he did want Hawke to be right about Anders. So, he let the argument brewing inside him die.

Hawke was a harsh woman. When she spoke, there was no argument, one simply followed. That did not make her unkind, simply firm. It was one of the many things Fenris found himself respecting, all but in awe of. Leadership decorated Hawke like well-fitted armor. There was very little she could do now to waiver his trust in her. The group began heading out, Varric and Hawke immediately taking to counting out the loot as they walked.

Fenris came up to walk beside Anders, “You may have favor with Hawke, mage, but hear this, should you betray her--”

“Why are you so sure of my guilt long before I’ve committed a crime?”

“Should you betray her, hear this now-- I will always come for you. That is a threat.”

ACT II

Putting trust in Hawke was far from misplaced. Long after the Deep Roads, she still remained his friend, helped him when Hadriana came knocking, and trusted him in return. Fenris was a regular member of her party, trusting him even about Aveline whom she had known for far longer. Hawke was a natural, but ruthless in her efficiency. Fenris respected that, even when he wasn’t sure he agreed. Sometimes, Fenris caught Hawke with a wild, angry glint in her eye as she plowed through enemies with an almost sadistic glee. Fighting was the happiest he had seen her bar her time spent with Merrill or after she was permitted a visit with Bethany at the Circle.

Yet, still, Hawke persisted with Anders. The mage had only grown more rebellious and unstable since they had met. Fenris did not despise him, but Anders set his teeth on edge in a way Fenris had not known in some time. Yet, she had left him to deal with the wounded as healer and protector while she fought the Arishok.

Upon the kill, Fenris thought she might cut off the Qunari leader’s head and hoist it up as a trophy. If she was, she never got the chance as she was rushed upon. The word ‘Champion’ echoed about the halls of the Viscount’s Keep. Before Fenris’ very eyes, the city seemed to be turned upside down. In the chaos, he managed to stumble out of the building, attempting to follow Merrill and Varric as they both rushed after Hawke.

Bethany was outside, tailing Orsino under the watchful eye of Meredith-- Shit. Where was Anders?

Templars milled about outside, keeping watch over mages who were working on healing the wounded while Aveline’s guard began lining up the dead, human, dwarf, elf, and qunari alike. There was no mess of dirty blond hair among them. No matter what he thought, Anders did a service in Darktown. Without him, the Ferelden refugees would be worse off. Instead of following whatever parade was forming around Hawke, he ducked down a side street, attempting to search for Anders.

Smoke still filled the air, making Fenris cough as he attempted to plunge ahead. Loud wailing was still echoing in the streets, amid the cheers of victory. Loss had still struck everyone fiercely. While he searched for Anders, he also kept his eyes peeled for Isabela. Wherever she had left to go to, he had a sinking feeling that she was never coming back.

Neither deep black curls nor a dirty blond mop was what caught his eye. Instead, it was Aveline’s flash of bright ginger hair. And, safe from templars, Anders was next to her. Fenris found himself surprisingly sighing with relief. He had worried for nothing. Carefully, he approached them.

“This is your fault,” Anders snapped, teeth grit as he tried to control Justice.

Aveline snarled, “What? Saving you from templars?”

“No! The Qunari attack!” he replied, “Much as I appreciate you getting me out of there.”

“Isabela stole that tome,” muttered Aveline, crossing her arms, “That’s what started this.”

“Isabela stole that stupid book ages ago. Then you let that… that monster get away with raping a girl!” Blue crackled at the edges of Anders’ eyes, which he shut, quickly as he tried to slow his breathing. His self-control after a long day of casting and healing was reaching its limit.

Aveline rubbed her nose bridge in frustration, “Anders, honestly, I don’t know what you expect me to do--”

“Punish the guard?” offered Anders, “Or would that be too much effort because the victim was an elf? I didn’t realize we were in Tevinter.”

“That was uncalled for,” snarled Aveline, clearly close to losing her patience.

Quickly, nearly fade-stepping to get there, Fenris went forward, taking Anders by the shoulders. Justice flashed, but Anders merely looked alarmed at being touched. His eyes narrowed on Aveline, who instead just looked relieved that someone else had interrupted them. He nodded at her slowly.

“Hawke asked me to escort him back to Darktown,” he said, “Go to your guards.”

“Be safe,” she said before turning to leave.

Anders scoffed, pulling away from Fenris and trudging ahead, “I should be out there healing.”

“You can deal with the injured that make it to the clinic,” sighed Fenris.

He crossed his arms, trudging forward, “Did Hawke really ask you to come check on me? I figured she’d send someone else. Varric, maybe, or--”

“She’s too busy entertaining the masses,” admitted Fenris, “I wanted to make sure you did not get caught by the templars.”

“Me?” Anders scoffed, “Why do you care?”

Why do you care about the lives of elves? Fenris wanted to ask. Yet… He knew why. While the Spirit within Anders could ebb and flow between Justice and Vengeance, Fenris knew that the Anders had originally allowed a spirit in him. Anders had stories of Justice and their time with the Grey Wardens as separate people. Letting the guard go unpunished was unjust, no matter who the victim was, but as usual it was elves who saw the short end of the stick.

Despite every notion Fenris had of the other man, Anders continued to prove himself dedicated to the people, even if those people were usually mages. Everyone was welcome at his clinic, from refugees to the Seneschal himself. Many things Anders did annoyed Fenris, but his dedication and passion were to be admired. To see a spark of joy when healing, that was something Fenris could respect. Maybe he even wanted to, if he would just let himself.

Hawke expected his loyalty-- she had it, of course, but she still expected it. When that loyalty was questioned, she made sure you knew about it. When he had run off after killing Hadriana, she had made her position known. If Fenris wanted to do that again, he better damn well wait until they got back to Kirkwall so they weren’t romping across the Wounded Coast without help. Her anger had shamed him.

A few nights later, he had brought Anders dinner. The practice was not uncommon among the group, but it happened when Anders failed to show up at the Hanged Man. Usually, they played a round of Wicked Grace to see who took the meal. Fenris had been the first out, thus the man to take the meal. Anders had been finishing up with a patient-- a little elven girl with a scraped knee. The injury was hardly worth the time of a healer with Anders’ caliber, yet Fenris watched as he distracted her with jokes while healing her knee. Once he was done, he patted it, making her smile before he dug around for a bit, pulling out a sweet. Most of them were stale, but the refugee children hardly cared, always pleased that the healer had candy for them.

When he saw Fenris, Anders had asked him if he was okay. There was no yelling about Fenris’ comment about how magic spoiled everything--though Anders had made a snide remark when he had spoken it. No, concern lined the wrinkles of Anders’ face as he graciously took the meal, double and triple checking that Fenris didn’t need healing or something to help. Once that was over with, Anders huffed, told Fenris he was stubborn, thanked him for the meal, and reminded him to clean the up mansion before he caught something from the corpses.

“Hear this now,” he said, “I will always come for you. That is a promise.”

ACT III

Smoke had a horrible, overwhelming scent. After the Qunari attack, he didn’t have the stomach to even enjoy a good campfire anymore. But watching the rubble of the Chantry smolder before him sent a revulsion through his gut. Why did Anders always have to be such a fool? Why couldn’t he just wait for the conflict to run its inevitable course?

Hawke did not ask for their opinions. Sebastian was furious-- so was she. Merrill had her hands clasped at her heart as they watched Aingheal Hawke walk around Anders like a predatory animal. For prey, he looked remarkably calm, sad, even.

Run, you idiot. Petrify her and run for your life.

Anders didn’t move. He wanted to die. Fenris felt sick.

“I trusted you,” hissed Hawke, “I made you part of my family; I protected you. Then you LIE to me, have me help you do this.”

“The war is inevitable,” said Anders, “Justice and I have done what had to be done. Kill me if you will and be done with it.”

“You put my WIFE in danger! You put my SISTER in danger!” Hawke raised a fist, bashing it across the side of Anders’ head.

“Vhennan, no!” exclaimed Merril, “Don’t kill ‘im. He can help us protect the mages, please.”

“He doesn’t deserve to live!” bit back Sebastian.

Hawke growled, “Do not speak to her that way! Merrill, I can’t. He’s too dangerous. He’s… He’s not the Anders we knew. Not anymore.”

Fenris felt his fist clench at his side. These theatrics were ridiculous-- there was a city to save. And, to be frank, either they chose Anders to die as he pleased or they went with Merrill’s plan. Hawke had seemingly chosen the former. Tears streamed down Merrill’s cheeks as she looked away, her wife hoisting her greatsword high. Fenris felt his insides twist.

He remembered the Anders he thought he knew. Once upon a time, that man had been an abomination, just a foolish mage playing Maker. Then, things had shifted. As much as he wanted things to be simple, Anders never allowed anything to be so. With his manifesto and ranting, came the healing and the gentle touches. Even when he himself forgot to eat, he never let anyone else forget. He would risk hair and hide in battle to protect others.

One night, not long after Hawke had been dubbed the Champion, Anders had admitted to Fenris that he had not always been so selfless. Justice was what brought out the best in him-- that if Fenris hated him now, he would have loathed the Anders of the Circle or the Grey Wardens, all flirt and wit and self-serving. Somehow, Fenris doubted that was the whole story.

Each passing day over the last three years, he found he craved it more. Was Anders really so different? Or was he exaggerating in an effort to self-loathe everything about himself? One minute he was witty and charismatic the next he seemed to gain ten years from exhaustion. Yet, each day, that wit and charisma faded away. A demon-- not a traditional one, but some sort of sickness of the mind-- had taken hold of the healer. Had anyone tried to help him?

Varric, perhaps, refusing to give into such demands like taking a pillow that meant so much Anders. Yet, no one else knew what to do. None of them knew how to cope with this shell of their friend. But he was still there. After Danarius, Hawke had clapped him on the back, asked him if he was alright, and went on her way.

Anders had shown up that night, barging his way in, double-checking injuries he had already healed while Fenris pushed him away. It didn’t work, of course. The mage had always been too stubborn for that. No matter how easy it would be for Fenris to kill him, Anders had never feared him. He treated him like any other friend. Only a week ago, he had invited Anders to eat dinner together… privately.

And then Fenris, cowardly, had failed to show.

Showing up would not have changed this event. No, Anders was too far into this plan, he was sure. Yet, now, he could not find it in him to overthink. Firelight glinted on Hawke’s as it arched its way down. Far faster than he knew that he could run, Fenris found himself knelt at Anders’ side. His hands clutched the other man’s shoulders, before shoving him forward. Lyrium flickered to life.

Hawke’s sword passed through him. Phantom sensations touched him, but did not harm him. Anders looked at him from where he had fallen, gathering himself up as he stared at them all. His feet slid backward, his mouth attempting to make Fenris’ name. Behind him, Hawke seethed.

“Run!” he ordered, urging Anders, “Run! Hear this, I will always come for you! I will find you! Go!”

Anders nodded quickly, life suddenly seeming to spring forth in his eyes. Oh, how long had Fenris longed to see that glint again. He had not realized he had ached for it until he saw its gleam. The mage took off, rushing away and into the chaos of the street. Once he was out of sight, Fenris turned to face them. Sebastian had his bow cocked at his head while Hawke looked disgusted.

“You bastard,” she hissed, “What had gotten into you?”

“What has gotten into you?” he repeated, “Anders was your friend. More-so than he ever was mine.” And yet, his stupid, treacherous heart and all of its longing had found the sympathy to save him.

“You were right,” she sneered, “He was always an abomination. I was blind.”

“Your wife is a blood mage,” snapped Fenris, “Shall you put her to the sword next?” Merrill gasped, but he glanced at her, trying to show her that it was not something he wanted. Hawke looked appalled at such a suggestion, thank the Maker, and lowered her sword.

Hawke did not circle him like a prey animal as she did Anders. No, instead he raised her nose to him. Golden eyes, just a bit hazel and always piercing, cast their judgement down on him. In an instant, without thinking, she saw what he had done as throwing away her loyalty to save Anders. And Hawke always expected his loyalty.

“I loved you like a brother,” she said, shaking her head, “Get out. Get out of my sight. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you both.” Merril sobbed, Varric quickly tending to her, looking unusually surly at Hawke. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t so unusual. Hawke was always funnier in his tales than she was in person. Perhaps Fenris had been blinded to something Varric had always seen.

Fenris did not say goodbye. Instead, he walked away with pride, head held high, a free man who would not be tethered to a woman who confused loyalty with ownership. Fenris owed her much, but she did not own him. And a free man was allowed to walk into whatever fate he damned well please.

Fenris chose Anders, and he knew he would keep choosing Anders every day after. All he had to do was find him.

[dismalzelenka]

I was wondering what your Hawke + Companions answers would be for the following if you would like to answer :) 5. What motivated your Hawke to be either a friend or a rival to Fenris? Were they indifferent to him? 4. How did your Hawke’s relationship with Aveline change throughout the Acts? Did they connect to her because of their mutual escape from the darkspawn in Ferelden?

Fenris

To quote the rival tab in the abilities window, Journey and Fenris have agreed to disagree. 😅

I think they frustrate one another for different reasons. Journey is pretty hotheaded and obviously spent her entire life being raised by a mage parent who was very staunchly pro-mage freedom, and Fenris is very vocally disapproving about her choices from day one. Like the night they meet, they get into an argument right in the middle of the street after he makes that comment about her using magic and not realizing what she is.

Despite their differences in opinion, they do share some common ground. They have very compatible senses of humor, she's always down for getting drunk and bitching together and they end up doing quite a bit of that (even if every once in a while they end up arguing bitterly over something).

The thing is, during Friction, which takes place over the year of service with Meeran and act one, Anders is kind of a major asshole to Journey. In this AU, they met in Lothering and are very surprised to see each other in Kirkwall and have a very emotional reunion. But then something goes wrong during one of their jobs together and Justice ends up injuring Journey pretty critically, and Anders decides he can't watch himself hurt her again, so he essentially breaks up with her and tells her they're different people now, etc. And proceeds to be very aloof and a bit of an ass. And like, they disagree very bitterly on a lot of things, but they're still friends regardless by this point, and to some extent they do care about each other. So Fenris hates watching her deal with this, doesn't understand why she's pining after an abomination who almost killed her and now refuses to give her the time of day, but it's never received well when it's brought up and always ends in an argument where one of them storms away.

I haven't developed their relationship much past the Deep Roads, but the whole business with Bartrand trapping them down there leads to the three of them having to resolve a few of their issues while a very tired Varric prays for death to claim him. 😂

Aveline

Journey's initial friendship and camaraderie with Aveline deteriorates to almost nothing by the end of Act 3. In the beginning they do have that "we went through this terrible awful thing together" bond, and they might have different opinions but they do respect each other after having to watch each other's backs for a year. But the longer Aveline runs the guard, especially once Journey starts getting more involved with the Underground, they start to drift apart. Journey stops trusting her. Aveline tries to convince Journey that more civil unrest is only going to hurt the city, and it turns into a huge falling out where Journey accuses her of forgetting herself and caring more about her position than helping real people who are suffering. And Aveline calls Journey selfish and naive and says her hands are tied and she's doing the best she can, and Journey just says "the best for who?" and walks off.

They're very much two people with shared trauma who personality clash more and more as they grow in starkly opposing directions. 🥲

Ask me about my Disaster Child!

[itonje]

hey sexy stranger who is not me would you like to talk about therese

hello sexy stranger who is not me i WOULD like to talk about therese aka theresa but i changed her name a little bit cause it didnt sound like. idk french enough

anyways therese florien is louis florien (oc)'s younger sister and also the last monarch of the northern empire (actually when she became queen she was the last monarch of just the north because the south and the west had broken off by that point but we'll get to that).

in the main story, 20-30 years after all these events ill be telling later take place, samira and the rest of the continent know her as 'The Coward Queen/Tea-time Queen' because she only ruled for a couple days and immediately forsook the throne when the southern and ko'bi army approached the capital. currently, she resides in the florien ancestral home (summerhead) on the northern continent, and she's converted the castle into both a prayer place and a place where travelers and vagabonds and so on can stay for safety. and she's basically become like a priestess . long long long backstory under the cut

anyways . the first we know of her is that she's louis' younger sister, she's very religious, she's very timid, and she's very close to her father gareth...there are reasons for the last two that have to do with her late mother lorete. so like. louis is a sorcerer which lorete discovered when he was just a child (northern sorcerers are believed to be willingly practicing dark magic against their religion or whatever) and the florien family is already in some deep shit with the royal family (tldr floriens used to be the royal family, were deposed and murdered and so on and also gareth pissed off his cousin back when they were in their twenties or whatever, this will all be relevant later) and so lorete knew that her son would be taken away/the family wld be punished or whatever adn devoted all her attention towards her son and towards concealing his magic from everyone, including his father.

and when she gives birth to therese, her attention is still all lazer focused on louis, and gareth, who doesn't know why she's ignoring her in the first place basically raises his daughter alone up until lorete dies of an outbreak of plague or whatever when therese is four and then he's raising the eight year old louis AND therese alone. therese's timidity comes from both the paranoia her mother exuded when she was little, lorete's death, the fact that when she was young she saw a jousting accident involving her father in which a man died. her piousness comes from the fact that the only thing she really did when she was younger was pray and read while her father was out doing knightly duties (cough cough colonizing) and it provided an outlet for her to vent her emotions ab her upbringing

also, there's a conspiracy the floriens were involved in with a couple other families set up by gareth's grandmother to restore the florien family on the throne (re: louis would become king when the time came) so like even then everyone always gave her brother attention over her because they were convinced he would be king and she was just the second child they didn't care about. in this world like women are as eligible to inherit and own land just as much as men btw louis was just the eldest

anyways because of her very like. kind of stuck up religious nature, her fear, and because the floriens are already kind of pariahs her first friends are just louis' friends, charicle elaphin (the elaphins are a family close 2 the floriens) and the strange iloro girl whos in training to be a knight (kidlat, but her 'northern name' is claire), but they get along very well, making a little sort of friend group.

as the years get on, therese really keeps herself busy just by taking care of her, who's very infirm, and reading more theological stuff (like by her hero, her ancestor aveline florien who was a priestess and religious reformer) and even writing a bit of her own stuff. to the outside world though, her interiority is looked down upon and royal family supporters (ie, against the floriens) even spread rumors about her, like that she's a secret sorcerer or something (the florien family has always had accusations of sorcery flung against them, little do they know there is a witch in her family but it's her brother who's actually the sorcerer)

we mostly either see her thru the perspective of kidlat, who likes her but feels a bit alienated to her like how kidlat feels alienated by everything northern, or louis who is like. apathetic towards her like he feels some affection for her because they're siblings of course but he's not really close to her and he thinks her piousness is self righteous and finds her deep fear and timidity unpleasant to deal with...tho, his greatest resentment towards her comes from the fact that he's always felt his father has preferred her over him (he does btw. like louis isn't wrong lol)

anyways the royal family sets up a wedding for her because louis refuses to be married, and claims this is out of love for their cousins, but this is just really a ploy to royally piss off gareth by taking his other child away from his household (something they already did to louis), and therese is um. well she's very angry and upset about this, which louis (and no one else, except for her father ofc) doesn't realize until the day of her wedding when he's getting her ready. she doesn't want to leave her father and summerhead, she wants to devote her life to the Goddess instead of some random husband, and she, like the rest of the floriens incl louis feels very humiliated and cheated by the way she's being treated when she has the right to the throne, when she and co should be in charge....this surprises louis because. he didnt know other people had feelings. also at some point therese wants to ask charicle to marry her instead because he's very religious as well and he's gay so neither of them would have pressure to feel love for the other, but louis tells her to not do that by saying oh well he's half western you're a florien almost-princess which convinces her to not do that

anyways she does get married to this guy, and has a kid (eventually), but continues to constantly visit her own family and gareth dies of like. natural causes or whatever (also stress because of louis being a cunt asshole or whatever and therese leaving him and colonizer guilt and a bad leg infection and honestly the man had a lot going on tbh) which really really bums her out, louis also yells at her because again, poorly hidden resentment over his father's preferential treatment of her which makes her even more upset

also later on when the king is dying she tries to pray for him at his bedside but the queen, who again, does not like the floriens, gets mad, calls her a witch and devil or whatever whos killing him, tries to beat her etc, and finally therese has had it she's HAD it and her big joker breaking point moment is. throwing a shoe at the queen and calling her a 'very godless lady'

anyways later later after aeetes (yeah remember him) kills prince edouard, who was about to be crowned king, and the west, galvanized by the south breaking off and the death of the Sort of King, breaks off as well and starts waging war against the northern forces, the remaining northern lords are like. well shit. whos going to be in charge. maybe the floriens again? but..... louis has already ran off chasing after the deserter kidlat (and unbeknownst to everyone, has died in a tragic mysterious Axe Murder Accident) so the crown goes to...you guessed it....therese! anyways she's crowned, only of the north, which is the only nation the crown has juristiction over at this point, but when the southern and ko'bi forces annihilate the remainder of the loyal northern knights (many northern families have tried to start their own factions to try to reconquer the continent, even fighting each other..this is not working) and move up to take the throne a couple days afterward, her deep fear that she's always carried with her leads to her immediately forfeiting the crown and running away....

i wrote a little something from her perspective on her coronation, basically she believes that the goddess has put this in her hands for a reason, she believes and knows she's truly the heir to the great florien kings and queens, she's apathetic towards the (supposed) death of her brother because um. the way he treated her for all of her life, though she does feel a great emptiness now that he's gone, she wishes her mother and father were there to see her, but there's always that. undercurrent of anxiety and uncertainty she's always had. so you can kind of see what she eventually does coming from a mile away

[teknicianwrites]

Kissing a scar that they got from something traumatic for f!Hawke and Merrill?

Thank you for the lovely prompt! This definitely got away from me, but I think I like it anyway.

@dadrunkwriting

Meredith gave Marinda a last long look before nodding. "I trust we understand each other, Champion." She turned away, calling out to gather the mages and Templars she'd brought and headed back to the Gallows.

Carver glanced back at her and she gave him a sheepish shrug. He rolled his eyes and fell in line with the rest of his Order.

She took a moment to breathe in the cool night air of Hightown, but the normal comforting scent of night-blooming flowers was covered by blood and smoke.

Andraste give me strength.

Cheering erupted as Marinda gingerly walked back into the main hall of the Viscount's keep. Nobles rushed to her side to express their gratitude, touching her, crowding her, blocking her view as she tried to find her lovers in the crowd.

She forced a smile to her face and nodded at whatever Lady de Cerrac said. "If that's the best the Qunari have it's a wonder they're still causing trouble in the north," she replied, with no idea whether it was relevant to the topic. It probably was. If not to de Cerrac then to someone talking at her. The Arishok's body still lay on the ground where he'd fallen, and even the aristocracy of Hightown didn't have that short of an attention span.

Tittering laughter followed her words so it must have been the right thing to say, except it quickly became the wrong thing to say as a strong hand gave her an approving slap on the back. It took every ounce of willpower she had to grin through the fire that lanced through her abdomen for it. The owner of the offending hand grinned back at her underneath a disheveled mustache. "Too right, Champion, too right you are!"

Maker, she had to get out of here. She couldn't pass out in front of everyone, not after the Knight-Commander had given her that title.

She could have cried with relief when Aveline pushed her way through the throng, Merrill trailing close behind and Varric's voice ringing out, "Alright everyone, I know she's impressive but I do believe our Champion has earned her beauty sleep."

Despite the murmurs of disappointment, the crowd parted for the Guard Captain as she led Marinda out into the night. Merrill came to her side, and Marinda clutched at her hand for support.

"Where's Bela?" she asked softly, still forcing herself to walk with an event gait while within sight of the dispersing nobility.

"She skulked away in the commotion," Aveline said, voice hard with disapproval.

Merrill tucked herself closer, pulling Marinda's hand to drape her arm over her shoulder, and Marinda leaned into it gratefully. Her warm body shared much-needed heat after Marinda's recent blood loss."I think the crowd made her nervous. She'll be back. She always comes back."

Aveline shot her a skeptical look, but upon looking over Marinda's increasingly failing attempts to hide her pain, kept her thoughts to herself.

"What did the Knight-Commander want, Chuckles?" Varric asked as they walked through an empty side-street on the way back to her home.

"Oh, you know, the normal things." Marinda attempted a half shrug and choked back a whimper for how it made agony shoot down her side. "The duties of a Champion, my responsibility to the city, she'll throw me in the Gallows if I don't toe the line. All the standard formalities."

Merrill's eyes widened as she turned to her, and Marinda stumbled. "She wouldn't. You saved the city! You can't lock someone up after they saved the city!"

In the privacy of the alley she allowed herself a small groan from the sudden change in angle. Merrill bit her lip apologetically and returned her position at Marinda's side. "She didn't say those exact words, but it was heavily implied."

Aveline frowned. "It may have been bravado, Hawke. She named you Champion herself. Hauling you in now would be a tough sell."

"Red's right," Varric agreed, then hummed thoughtfully. "Still, it wouldn't hurt to ingratiate yourself with the hoity-toity in the coming months." Marinda groaned at the thought and Varric shrugged. "I'm just saying. You get into some weird shit with some weird people. Hightown having your back would be a good position to be in."

"I just saved all their lives! Isn't that enough?" Marinda whined, because if she was whining in annoyance then she wasn't whining in pain.

"With these people? Start going to the dinner parties, Chuckles. Trust me on this."

They reached the front door of her estate and she slumped in defeat. Merrill unlocked it for her and helped her through the threshold. She was immediately greeted by a cold mabari nose against her palm..

"Hey, Cal. It's fine. I'm fine." She gave him a reassuring scratch behind the ear.

Cal whined his disagreement and licked blood from her hand.

"Meserre!" Bodhan peeked his head out from the basement. "You're alright! Is the trouble over?"

"Yes, Bodhan. Everything's fine." Her gut was screaming at her to lie down and she was cold and lightheaded from blood loss, but she was breathing and the house was still standing. That counted as fine, right? "Do we have any elfroot?"

His eyes darted over her bloody and battered form. "I believe so, meserre. Is there anything else you need? Food? A hot bath?"

A hot bath sounded lovely, but she was afraid she would black out and drown in it. Not a very Championly way to die. "Maybe some broth? And water?" She knew she desperately needed fluids.

"Of course, meserre. Orana's down the stairs keeping the boy calm. I'll have her whip something up for you right and proper."

"Thank you."

Merrill scurried off after him, saying she was going to get some bandages, and Marinda was suddenly faced with the prospect of getting to her room.

All she wanted to do was pass out in her bed, but the stairs down from the Viscount's Keep had been bad enough. Stairs going up? She stared at the climb in despair.

Aveline must have seen her face. She held out her hand and, when Marinda moved to take it, gently scooped her up into her arms. Marinda hissed as her middle was jostled, and Maker, if she had the blood for it she would be blushing in humiliation at finding herself in a bridal carry.

"Aveline-" she tried to protest, and Aveline cut her off with a stern glare.

"No, Hawke. Hush. I've got you."

Varric's amused face quickly fell when she didn't put up any more fight. "I'm going to see if I can find Blondie for you."

Marinda shook her head. "He's probably healing people the Qunari hurt. Don't pull him away from that, I'll be fine."

He gave her a dubious look. "All the same. I'll let him know you're hurt and ask him to check on you when he gets a chance."

She was too tired to keep arguing and let herself slump into Aveline's hold.

Aveline carefully carried her upstairs and carefully deposited her on her bed. Cal immediately hopped up to her side, snuffling his concern at her neck.

"No, buddy," she murmured. He whined, but she knew he would get in the way of getting her armor off. "Foot of the bed," she offered in compromise, and he whined again but obeyed.

Merrill came through the door, balancing bandages, rags, a bowl, a cup, and a pitcher in her arms. She must have had Bodahn pile it onto her; there was no way she could have stacked it herself. "I've got everything. Well, not everything, Orana's working on the broth, but everything else. There's elfroot under here somewhere, if I can… oh…" She seemed to realize her predicament. Her arms were so full she had no way to put anything down without dropping it all, and the sloshing from the pitcher told Marinda it was already full.

Aveline came to her rescue, setting the pitcher on the nightstand and helping her unload the rest onto the bed.

"Thank you Aveline! I didn't think that through. I should have let Bodhan help me but poor Sandal was so scared I couldn't bear to pull him away with Orana needing to cook," she rambled anxiously.

"It's fine, Merrill." Aveline gave Marinda a long look. "You'll really be alright? You're not trying to joke away internal bleeding?"

Marinda huffed a soft laugh she immediately regretted. "Everything hurts, but I'm not going to die. I may not have my own ride-along passenger like Anders, but I'm still a healer. I'm not losing any blood. Just need time to make some more."

"I'm trusting you on this, Hawke. You'd better be alive tomorrow," was the stern reply.

Marinda gave a weak smile. "Champion's honor." She gave a weak salute. Did Champions salute? She didn't know. She should have asked Meredith for a handbook. "Go. I know you need to check on your men and get the city to stop being on fire." Marinda watched Aveline's face meander between exasperation and amusement, before finally making the unexpected journey to sincere.

"Thank you. You saved a lot of lives tonight. Even if Hightown forgets that in a month, I won't." Aveline gave her hand a squeeze and looked to Merrill. "Take care of her."

"I will," she promised.

Aveline gave them both a nod and left, pulling the door closed behind her.

Merrill hovered at her side. "Ma vhenan, what do you need?"

"Water. Please."

Merrill helped her drink, then gave her some elfroot to help with the pain. Marinda chewed on it, ignoring the bitter taste as Merrill carefully helped her out of her ruined armor. Her lover was gentle, but everything hurt and Merrill apologized for every wince and gasp.

"Creators…" Merrill stared at the fresh scar on her stomach.

"Fuck," Marinda agreed, looking down at herself.

She'd known it was bad. The Arishok had run her completely through and pinned her to the wall of the Keep. But even with dried blood obscuring it, Marinda felt light-headed to see just how much of her torso had been rent apart.

Merrill took an unsteady breath and dipped a clean rag into the bowl of water, gently washing the blood away to reveal the full extent of the scar. Her hand shook as she wet the rag again, moving to clean a smaller wound at Marinda's shoulder.

Marinda tore her gaze from the scar and looked at Merrill's face to find her eyes welling with tears. Marinda gently caught her wrist and pulled the cloth away, setting it aside and entwining their fingers with her other hand.

"I'm ok, Merrill. I'll be ok."

Merrill tightened her grip like her hand was a lifeline. "You almost died."

The Arishok whirled on her, and she ducked away from his axe and stumbled against the wall.

She should have been watching the sword.

"I'm alive. I'm here."

"You almost died. You were on the ground and you weren't moving and there was so much blood… Creators, there was so much blood."

Agony liked fire burned in her gut, clear through her back. She heard metal scrape against stone as she looked down at the weapon piercing her torso.

"I'm here."

"You were already so hurt and then-"

Her vision blurred as she looked up at his snear.

"Your role is realized."

"Shhhh."

"You shouldn't have done it. I didn't teach you just to watch it kill you. You almost died-"

This was how she was going to die. She stared into his eyes and distantly heard someone scream her name. She turned toward the sound and saw Bela, restrained by two Qunari, frantically trying to break free.

Bela….

"I couldn't let him take her."

She was dying, but she wasn't dead yet. And she wouldn't let him have her.

"I know. I know, ma vhenan. But I thought I lost you. I thought I killed you."

With a cry of rage and pain, she ripped the power of her own lifeblood from her wound, and boiled his blood in his veins.

"You saved me."

"Merrill no, there's too many people-"

Marinda turned Merrill's hands over and pushed back her sleeves, and traced the fresh scars from where she had used her own blood to keep Marinda's in her body.

"I can only slow the bleeding, I can't close the wound. Heal yourself, vhenan."

"That was so dangerous, love. All of the nobility could have seen."

"Merrill…"

Merrill laughed through her sobs. "You started it. You lost so much blood they would have thought it was yours."

"I can't lose you. Heal yourself or I'll bleed myself dry, I won't watch you die-"

Marinda kissed her left wrist, then her right, feeling each scar beneath her lips that had saved her life.

"I can't."

"You can."

She kissed them again, and a third time for good measure, and it wasn't until she tasted saltwater that she realized she was crying.

Merrill's gaze was resolute. Marinda had no mana left, and she couldn't use her own blood to stop the bleeding. Merrill was offering her own.

Her throat was closing up, but she made herself speak. "I can't lose you either, love. You're my heart too. You and Bela."

As Varric and Bela distracted the crowd and Aveline used her own body to shield them from sight, Marinda tentatively reached for the pull of Merrill's heart. It wasn't Marinda's blood and she couldn't call on Joy this way, but she was still a healer. Ignoring the pains that weren't threatening her life, she mended back arteries and organs and flesh. She was used to the warmth of Joy, or the soothing cool of creationism, or even the steady burn of Justice, but this felt raw. Primal.

Merrill took a hand back to cup Marinda's cheek. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

With careful attention to Merrill's pulse, she healed as much and as quickly as she dared, increasingly aware she was twice a maleficar in the Viscount's throne room. She didn't think she'd have the strength to run.

Marinda smiled and pulled her close. "Absolute disasters."

Confident that if she died tonight it wouldn't be from this wound, she made a last small pull on Merrill and sealed the bleeding at her wrists.

They both cried, delayed terror finally safe to be expressed, and then they kept crying, in relief and disbelief that they had survived and were free.

When they finally calmed, Marinda kissed her, tasting salt and lyrium and blood.

"I love you, Merrill."

"I love you too."

Merrill finished cleaning her and carefully wrapped the cuts and scrapes that hadn't been healed. Orana came by with the broth, and Merrill helped her drink it. She gave her more elfroot to chew as she changed out of her own bloodied clothes, and poured her some more water to wash away the taste.

She helped Marinda lie down and kissed her brow. "Sleep, vhenan. I'm sure Anders will be by tomorrow, and you'll want to be rested for that. If Varric told him what happened we're probably in for a scolding."

Marinda chuckled and closed her eyes. Merrill put out the lights and snuggled into her shoulder, and Cal crawled along the bed to curl up at her other side.

She was alive. Kirkwall was still standing. She was its Champion, whatever that meant. Merrill was with her, and though she didn't know where Isabela had gone, she knew she was free.

Marinda slept.

[common-blackbird]

Started!

This is my Inquisitor (so overjoyed you can be a qunari), her name is the default Herah and I decided I’m going to approach this game by staying true to a character and not looking to do everything and be on everyone’s good side u_u

I want to make a good background for her so i’m not telling anything. Yet. I’ll just say she’s a qunari mercenary and prefers using two-handed weapons.

Highlights from today:

Studying history does pay off! This was a reference to the famous book in environmental history - Guns, Germs and Steel by Jared Diamond. So proud i recognised it x)

Also i don’t have a good shot of solas but he cracks me up so much.. The guy has a posture of the typical retired grandpa (the only thing missing is to have him walk with his hands on his back). And there’s a scene where the party sees the rift and there’s the inquisitor facing it, cassandra bracing herself and solas... just standing like an old man

On a side note, Cassandra is so gorgeous and good and i already love her, i just keep taking shots of her TAT

As for varric, it’s so different than from da2, this is so much more “official” and you can see he’s the same as ever, but you’re not hawke, hawke’s not here, the gang’s not here and there’s nothing casual about the whole situation T-T

And lastly, my inquisitor has a horse now, i didn’t know that was possible in the game ;__;

played some more...

Let  me start with.... The advisors! (+ cassandra... or is she also an advisor too?)

What a bunch. I love Cassandra’s and Leliana’s faith having a crisis bc they believe that Inquisitor is the Herald of Andraste and the way they deal with it. It’s really interesting. Leliana is completely opposite than what she was in origins and i’m surprised it doesn’t bother me at all! I love seeing this whole darker side that was only hinted at in origins, though it’s also sad when i think how she used to be. I wonder how she’s gonna overcome her doubting of faith. 

Josephine is a delight. I keep using her for almost every war table mission for now. She radiates capability. She reminds me of those bureaucrats that are super nice and helpful and chill and even if you’re doing everything wrong she’ll just smile and say “it’s ok, we can fix it” and then goes and fixes everything herself (and you feel this insane amount of gratitude you send a whole separate email to thank her for her patience and help )

As for Cullen... It’s interesting... I got impression from what i saw in the fandom that he’s supposed to have had his allegiance changed and him rejecting the templars should have been him ultimately siding with the mages (or at least being anti-templar(?)), and that turning point that could have been a great way to show his character development during the game. Which i agree, only... i did not get that impression from the game so far at all. I mean, so far everything that i can remember him saying is totally smth he’d say in da2... He didn’t leave kirkwall bc of his disappointment with the templar order, he doesn’t seem to have any issues with the templars except those who go full war mode instead of trying to balance the situation. And it’s a really chaotic situtation, i love how they did it.

This line was amazing, i wish there was a special cutscene for that.

I’m loving the way they made this huge religious organisation in crisis have a complete collapse with the death of a key figure. I love the concept of inquisition and problems that it poses. I love you can see everyone’s reasoning and doubts reflect their background, but also see why inquisition can be understood as another power-grasping organisation trying to topple the templars, the mages and the chantry. Everything is divided. We got templars leaving the chantry, seekers leaving the chantry(?), rebel mages, loyal mages, rebel mages gone rouge, templars gone rouge, and suddenly there’s another organisation forming that you can totally believe is just another powerhungry force trying to get the piece of the cake by taking advantage of the power vacuum left by the sudden lack of the religious authority. (and only we know we’re The Good Guys). I love that we have characters who need to believe in the greater plan, characters who question the greater plan, and characters who want to utilise the power of belief and characters who don’t care for divine plans. The chaos is real and it feels real. I love that the centre figure of the whole holy business is a heretic of another culture. For the chantry this is the lose-lose situation (unless the inquisitor becomes religious by the end of the game). Which is why this line works so well. 

Ok, now shorter updates:

Red Jenny! I know it’s not her actual name but it is in my head. Where’s that box i delivered ages ago >_> Anyways, she makes my brain work on 150% capacity. I can understand what she means only after i go over it for 5 times.

Forgive me but oh my god, i can’t believe that i can recognise one voice actor and now i have another mental image whenever he speaks. Like, he’s really good at bringing out a new character, but when he gets more casual he sounds like kanan jarrus from star wars rebels and i’m just “what are you doing here, space dad” ;__; Hopefully it’ll get old and i’ll be enjoying more iron bull. he seems nice...

Vivienne on the other hand is like a reverse Josephine(?) She seems insanely capable but hates customer service, however somehow she likes you very much and will do everything you need for reasons you can’t fathom. Have a screenshot. So classy. I already feel humbled.

and lastly, BREAKING NEWS: aveline finally hired carver ;__;

Tbh Kirkwall is still a mystery and i have so many questions but i don’t think i’ll get any answers... If a powervacuum of the divine cause this much chaos, how’s kirkwall faring without a new viscount? Like, yeah, aveline can keep in check, but umm it’s in a very vulnerable state which makes it a good target for any invasion... didn’t sebastian promise bloodshed?

That’s all for now, bc otherwise i’ll start writing an essay on cassandra.

We befriended a bear in the hinterlands!

lets start with this cool shot

so, i have been to the mages and to the templars and... i sided with the templars.... First i was all for mages since they offered negotiations while the seeker just walked away, but then it turned out that was a trap, there’s also tevinter mages there (which is a red flag for my inquisitor) and then there’s some time magic involved (which is a big no for me), and i just walked out. Felt bad for the mages but my inquisitor comes from a culture where mages have their tongues cut so...

Also this guy deserves a medal for putting up with corrupted superiors and annoying nobles.

And i met cole ;__; Where are Rhys and Evangeline ;___;

the templar mission was ok i guess... I was surprised that red lyrium was apparently circulating around for some time, not sure if that means since meredith or even before. I love the stories of corruption tho and to imagine what it’s like to be trapped in this organisation that just keeps breaking everything it stands for

As for the important mages, i’ve Dorian twice since i bailed out on him in Redcliffe :I I love the guy, he seems arrogant yet so kind (like, no one would have carried that annoying priest and yet he did, after he ran from his own people to warn us after i ditched him in Redcliffe? man ;A;) Every time i go with “ok the inquisitor fears tevinter and distrusts this rando who just popped in” i am marinating in guilt.

and then we fight some mages and die several times but we succeed and we meet the bad guy...

Is it an unpopular opinion to say that i like him as a villain so far? i saw so many jokes on his incompetency. Idk, i like that part where he said that he reached the fade in someone’s name, it makes me think he’s not just power-hungry person(?) who’s just evil,but was originally serving someone, and he said that the gods were either gone or corrupted and he spent hundreds of years thinking what to do with whatever happened so he seems like he knows what he’s doing and maybe(!just maybe) he is trying to fix things that are wrong but we can’t see that? And of course he hates the inquisitor, he has to redo his stuff all over again, i’d hate the inquisitor too. im probably looking too much into it. My wish is that, if he’s evil, he became so gradually, but originally had good intentions? Or there’s more to things going on that we just don’t know and he does... Maybe this was his tragic attempt to fix things but he would ultimately fail and be branded as a villain etc etc. I’m getting carried away

If it turns out he’s just evil for the sake of being evil then feel free to tell me so now so i don’t embarrass myself further with plotting myself lol.

A side note, is he the Architect? Or the same? In DA2 he says he’s a tevinter magister, right? and he ceased to be a human. Also in DA2 it seemed like he was the boss, and here he said he reached in the name of someone (probably more important than him). But what is the Architect then?

And with that we reach the skyhold.

in skyhold

I didn’t know you meet hawke so soon ;__; i thought that was like, somewere more to the end of the game, since the big decision and all. But the mission is already opened and i am going to procrastinate on it until i finish every side mission :<

Also he is so sad ;__; i understand, but at the same time... all that humour now bitter sarcasm :’(

(also, very shallow remark, but i really really prefer his looks in da2 than here... it’s like they softened him. He’s more...oh god idk bearish(???) than hawkish(????) you know what i mean? the nose isn’t as sharp anymore, the beard is... what is it with the beard... anyways i get the game has its limits so it’s fine. it’s fine! fine.)

then there was the fight that i remember since twitter >:D

It’s what made me want to play dragon age and i finally reached it T-T so good! I love how you can see the both sides and everything they say is true but they’re so angry at themselves they’re taking it out on each other TAT

Cassandra later says Hawke probably wouldn’t have joined the inquisition even if she found him, and i wonder now if that’s true... At first i thought, nah, Hawke has too much of a hero complex, he would feel too responsible to just say no. Besides, he’s with the inquisition now (tho i can’t find him anywhere anymore!). But at the same time, the way da2 ends was such an iconic walking away from everything, and not taking into account the hocus-pocus rift stuff, i can imagine him refusing, especially seeing how bitter he is now. It’s also a question of how much would have cassandra told him i guess. idk, what do you think? Would he lead or nah?

another person i want to find but can’t in skyhold are the templars with ser barris. i can use them on war table missions but otherwise they’re non-existant? i forgot to talk to him back in haven but now i wonder if it was even possible and if he was even available there, since he isn’t here. I spent hours just running around skyhold looking for the guy :(

and then everything becomes unimportant bc aaaaa!! she! is the arcanist! Dagna! im so happy and proud(?) she went and reached her goals x)

anyways that’s all for now, laters

some random updates:

so i did the halamshiral and gave up to my “stick to the character” mode, and nothing went my way, but that’s life. Met morrigan! i almost forgot she appears lol. And, despite also jumping on the wagon of give-morrigan-better-clothes train, i have to admit seeing her in her old clothes was a relief after that dress at the ball. It’s not the way the dressed looked, but the way she moved in it... god im shallow

i also initially didn’t like morrigan being at orlais court of all places, but after the conversation that’s supposed to explain why she’s there i’m kinda ok with it. I mean, i still need some more info. Wouldn’t Tevinter be better? she’d practically become a magister overnight if she got this good in the game so fast. It’s also unconvincing how everyone knows everything in orlais but somehow nobody connected that the random kid that has no bakcground whatsoever with morrigan who keeps checking on him? But at skyhold she’s just “hey i have a kid, he’s no trouble, right?”  but hey, it’s morrigan. She can do anything. I’ll just have another story idea in my head.

Then there was news of the new divine that could be either cassandra or leliana and i don’t honestly know whom to choose. I’d prefer leliana over cassandra simply bc cassandra is more of a military mind, while the position of the divine would be more political. But lately every mission with leliana was spy spy, kill kill... Do we really want that for a religious leader? On the other hand, it would nicely round up her story from origins to inquisition... But cassandra is more of a public figure than leliana is...

when cassandra said:

“I want to respect the tradition, but not fear change. I want to right the past wrongs, but not avenge them. And I have no idea if wanting any of them makes them right.”

great moment. She’s usually so convinced and rash, i forget she’s more doubtful and open minded than what she looks like. Everything about cassandra is different from the impression she gives ;__; I love her so so so so much. (when she says she considers the inquisitor her friend i melted, next time varric pulls up the “seeker has no friends” joke, my heart will no longer be breaking).

I did a bunch of personal missions. Some were cool, some were ????. Also there were war table missions with zevran, that was cool. Also i love the codex entries in skyhold. The archery competition with varric banned? Dancing lessons failing bc lace harding is on the move all the time? Perfect.

And i met chargers, i like them, and aaah that staff-bow from the trailer is such a cool idea ;A;

What i don’t get with bull’s chargers is - they’re a mercenary group right? But isn’t swordselling seen as the complete misunderstanding of the qun? I get only bull is qunari, but he’s the leader of them? How is that not frowned upon?

And lastly, i don’t think i’ve said this, but i love that they added codex entries in the loading screens. love it.

update

After months of procrastination, i have faced my fears and have met alistair. it was very anticlimatic beating 11 level monsters when i was level 21...

but.. ALISTAIR TAT He’s changed... but not changed... but changed! Like, his personality is the same, but he’s more serious, doesn’t run from responsibilities, isn’t as bitter as hawke (also, why do i get impression that i am supposed to get the impression that they’re friends? they’ve met like, once, and talked for less than a minute.. whatevs. let’s pretend they’ve met again when on the run), i really love the inquisition alistair ;;__;;

Also, i managed to get that awkward demon baby family reunion :D

 know that morrigan says the vaguest generic thing “i told him his father was a good man” bc of various world states, but i also think she’s come a long way not to mock alistair, and then when he notices that she didn’t use the opportunity he mentions that the kid changed her and she’s like “pfft, yea right, you wish”....

... when she was the one who said that in the first place ;;__;;

Awwww :> I love that they bicker but softly. Kids have grown up :’) Anyways, when will alistair start paying alimony

The only weird one is Leliana bc when morrigan was introduced she was like “danger danger” (smth i’d sooner think alistair would do), and when alistair is (supposedly) in skyhold, Leli doesn’t even mention him, only hawke.  bruh, what were they to you, you almost died together ;;__;;

oh i also slayed a dragon.  I didn’t even want to fight that dragon. It was a hillarious feat of inquisitor, solas, cole and blackwall, all on level 21, having to chug all the health potions right at the beginning while fighting a dragon that was... level 13, after which i just let go of controls and suddenly everyone was hella good at fighting and slayed it (only cole needed revival several times).  

And, befitting the wild-dream feel that it had, when i got back to skyhold and visited companions, suddenly i was drinking pelin with iron bull, and he’s reminiscing on that fight with the dragon and i’m like

it was awful and you weren’t even there.

i forgot to update

but last time i was playing i finished the hawke/alistair sacrifice and all the torture i went through with deciding whom to sacrifice vanished bc frankly, at one moment, i wanted to sacrifice both of them, but in the end it was much more easier to sacrifice hawke bc inquisition hawke just didn’t feel like hawke to me, while alistair improved since the origins!

and now i remembered why i didn’t update, in the same day cassandra rejected me so i was sad and didn’t continue playing since then (i think last time i played it was around easter?)

new update

BLACKWALL!! or should i say Thom Rainier? Wow, what an arc! It was also so fun bc i was all strict mode, picking the third option, telling him his life is in inquisitor’s hands and all that, but in the end i set him free. He’s so good, a true knight T-T

Also i romanced sera. we’ll see how that goes.

Also, fave point in the game so far, i wanted, for so long, to sit at that val roeayoux (can’t spell) cafe and finally did it with cole’s personal mission. THANK YOU COLE YOU TRULY CAN READ PEOPLE’S MINDS.

another interesting thing was that after specialising as a reaver, cassandra said that drinking dragon blood makes you grow scales and become mad. Iron Bull said that inquisitor smells better bc dragon blood and that qunari generally smell better than humans. So i’m guessing qunari have fractions of dragon in them? ok...

and now i started that mission with morrigan and the puzzles are killing me lol, i am this 👌 close to just go chase calpernia and give up on a well of sorrows.

[servantofclio]

DA2 fic: After the Deep Roads

They didn’t hear from Bethany for two months.

Two months since she’d left her sister in the hands of strangers; two months since her steps had dragged against the stone floor, while she looked over her shoulder, seeking some glimpse of Bethany and seeing only the armored backs of Wardens clustered around Bethany’s slumped form.

“They’ll take care of her,” Anders had said. “You can count on that.”

He said it without the bitter curl that usually accompanied his remarks about the Wardens, so she tried to take heart from that.

Two months since they’d hauled themselves back to the surface, stumbling and squinting into sunlight that seemed too harsh on their faces.

Mother had cried, when she came home, and then cried harder when she learned Bethany wasn’t coming home.

That was a bad night, far from the triumphant homecoming Hawke had imagined before they set out.

But the next day, Mother was resolute. Somehow the loot turned into hard shining coin, and the coin turned into letters and the Viscount’s seal on Mother’s petition, and that seal turned into a dusty, cavernous estate. Most of Hawke’s friends turned up to help clean, and Mother pressed Bodahn and Sandal into service as well, and when that wasn’t enough for Mother’s tastes she’d hired a crew to come in and clear out the last of the debris. They’d scrubbed and swept, bought new furniture and rugs and hangings to replace what must have been pawned or sold years ago. All the work had kept them busy, at least, and had kept her worry over Bethany to a little nagging kernel in the back of her mind.

The kernel never quite went away, though, and sometimes when Hawke lay in the bedchamber she’d claimed, staring at the ceiling, that kernel unfolded until it filled the whole room, dark and smothering. Your sister is gone. You failed her, like you failed your brother. You’re alone now.

So the two months passed, and then the letter arrived, so thin that Hawke’s stomach dropped before she broke the seal. But it was Bethany’s handwriting on the inside, which made her breath whoosh out in relief, until she read the actual words.

Then she felt... not much, really. Bewilderment, maybe, somewhere under a void.

She went out. The walk to the Viscount’s palace wasn’t so far these days. The streets full of people blurred around her until she’d reached the sanctum of the Guard barracks and dropped the letter on Aveline’s desk.

“What—”

Hawke cut Aveline off. “Heard from Bethany,” she said.

“Good,” Aveline said. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“You’d think.” Hawke dropped gracelessly into the chair on the other side of Aveline’s desk.

Aveline looked at the letter as if Hawke had dropped some small but noxious animal carcass in front of her. She reached out to take it, slowly. Her face hardened into a frown as she read.

“Did I do right?” Hawke demanded. “Was I supposed to just let her...” She stopped herself, swallowing.

Aveline scanned over the letter again and then put it down. Her mouth was pulled into a tight line. Her eyes had gone distant, and Hawke guessed that she was thinking of a rough track outside of Lothering. “I would have done the same as you,” she said firmly.

Hawke sucked in a breath and blinked to ward off the hotness at the corner of her eyes. She hated to push on this sore spot, but she needed to know. “If you could have saved Wesley by taking him to the Wardens, you would have?”

“Of course I would have.” Aveline’s voice was even, sure as always.

Hawke let out the breath in a long gust. “I thought... at least with the Wardens, she’d have a chance. I didn’t think it could be that awful.” She frowned at the letter where it lay on Aveline’s desk, as if its few short lines would unravel themselves into something more sense-making. “I suppose being a Warden didn’t agree with Anders, either...”

Aveline made a noise somewhere between a snort and a grumble. “Anders doesn’t much care for being told what to do.”

Hawke was forced to agree with that assessment. But Anders’ kind of defiance wasn’t Bethany. Her sister was no pushover, but she’d always been agreeable, always tried to make the best of whatever situation they’d found themselves in. No matter how she turned it over in her head, she couldn’t make it fit. “I don’t understand why she’d be angry,” she said finally, in a low voice.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Hawke. She’s been through a lot, but I wouldn’t have thought to see this, either.”

Hawke reached out to snag the letter from the desk and read it again, frowning. “I mean, of course I wanted her to survive. She’s my sister! It was bad enough to come home and tell Mother what happened, I couldn’t bear telling her we’d lost Bethany, too.” She bit her lip. Even now she remembered Bethany’s pale face and stumbling steps and couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving her in that awful place.

“Did you ask her if she’d go with the Wardens?” Aveline asked.

Hawke shook her head. “She was half out of her head by then. I thought she knew what was happening, but...” She winced, trying to picture it. Had Bethany known what was happening? Or had she just wakened among the Wardens, stricken and confused? None of them had been at their best, exhausted and on edge, their stores running low, and when she’d realized Bethany was ill, she hadn’t been able to think of anything other than finding a way to save her.

“Mm,” Aveline said, careful. “Choice matters.”

“It was her only chance,” Hawke said, her voice tight.

Aveline turned her palms out. “I’m not saying you’re wrong.”

Hawke started at the wall, her jaw clenching. Maybe that was it, after all. Maker, it still hurt to remember those miserable hours stumbling through the dark. “I’d do it again,” she said to the air. “Maker, I’d trade places with her if I could, I swear.”

“I know you would, Hawke.” Aveline’s chair creak as she leaned forward. “When people look at the two of you, they always think Bethany’s the soft one. I learned fast enough that your sister is stronger than she looks. You’re survivors, all of you. You go on.”

Hawke let out a faint laugh at that. Survivors: they were that, both sides of her family. Her mother and father, with their extravagant romance; by any sensible token, her mother should have gone running back home within a month. Instead they’d run, the Circle mage and the noble daughter, crossed the sea, found a way to earn their living, raised three children, run again when they had to. Her father had survived the Circle, too, and even Gamlen had found a way to keep on. And here they were now, after the Blight, after fleeing Ferelden, after surviving a year and a half in bloody Kirkwall. After the Deep Roads, where she might have lost her sister to the dark caverns and the taint, but hadn’t.

“We go on,” she echoed, and met Aveline’s eyes with a nod. They’d said as much many times during that long trek from Lothering to Kirkwall, four women struggling along with nothing but what they carried. “Well, so. I’ll write back, and hope she fares better. Maybe she’ll come around.”

Aveline nodded back. “She’s alive. Even if she’s angry, there’s still a chance for mending.”

Hawke straightened in her chair, starting to think of what she might write back. Her sister was alive, and that was the thing that mattered most. She could resent Hawke all she wanted, as long as she was alive.

[kirkwallgremlin]

I know you said you don't need more prompts buuuuuut...."57 secretly dating" from the intimacy prompts list (for whichever pairing you want)?

@playwright-fate thank you all for asking <3 (and thank you anon ;_;), even if it did take me almost a month. I have to say though, I laughed when I recieved exactly the same prompt 3 times in a row 😂

Here’s some Isabela/Fenris <3 1520 words, rated M for brief discussions/mentions of sex and featuring the DA2 companions

Isabela didn’t know exactly when it had happened. When Fenris had started to mean something, when she had started spending as much with him as she did alone. 

She knew when it had started of course. The night when all of the teasing, the suggestive jokes and comments she never expected to go anywhere, and the increasingly bold flirting she received in response had reached boiling point and she and Fenris had ended up in tangle of limbs and messy sheets in her room in the Hanged Man.

They’d been so rushed he hadn’t even fully removed his armour. 

She was the one who raised it again a week or so later, a casual comment about how she couldn’t stop thinking about that night. It was almost true. She could have stopped if she tried but did she really want to do that? 

“Well, then I’ll see you later,” he’d told her in response and she’d appreciated his sudden boldness. 

Then that night had turned into another, then another, and somehow they had found themselves here, with this undefined thing between them, growing every day. 

“Do you think the others know?” he asked her one night as she sprawled sleepily across his bed, the pale sheets a stark contrast against her skin. “About us? About this?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. 

“What is there to know?” she said. “If we talk about this, it becomes a thing. I don’t want it to be a thing. Things are complicated and messy and feelings get involved. And I’m not good with feelings.”

She pouted, shifting to push her bare breasts towards the elf’s serious expression. 

“It doesn’t have to be a thing,” Fenris said, reaching for her, and just like that, the conversation was over.

They didn’t talk about what this was anymore, and they didn’t make any plans to tell anyone. 

She didn’t want it to be a thing, as much as it was starting to feel like one.

 - - -

“Come on, take a risk for once,” Isabela giggled, the door to the Chantry storeroom partially open behind her. She wasn’t sure Fenris believed that she’d found it open - she could hardly believe the luck herself - but she wasn’t sure it mattered as she pressed her lips against his throat. 

“Please?” she added, the words murmured against his skin, pressing closer against him. “It’s only a storeroom and I’m sure the Maker won’t mind. You can ask for forgiveness later.”

Fenris gave in, letting her pull him into the empty room. But as Isabela pressed him against the wall, something clattered and they jumped, realising they weren’t as alone as they had thought. 

“Mage,” Fenris snapped, standing straight as Anders stared at them, wide eyed and shocked. He clutched a large sheet of crumpled paper against his chest. 

“I won’t tell anyone you were here if you do the same,” he said quickly and Fenris nodded. She was close enough to see his cheeks burning red as he awkwardly excused himself. 

She looked back at Anders. 

“Do I even want to know what you’re doing here?” she asked and he raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Do I want to know what you were doing here?” 

“I was trying to do the handsome elf but somebody interrupted that,” she muttered under her breath. Anders heard anyway. 

“Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked.

“If I want your advice, I’ll ask for it,” she snapped. “So far though… it seems to be a very wise choice. But you can go ahead and keep that to yourself.” 

Anders knowing didn’t need to make it more of a thing. Lots of consenting adults had sex, after all. 

- - -

“How long have you been sleeping with Fenris?” Merrill asked one day, the words slipping out with such casual ease that Isabela nearly tripped down the stairs to the dock. 

“What?” she spluttered. “We’re not…? How did you...?”

“He watches you when he thinks you’re not looking,” Merrill said simply. “And your face lights up when he’s around, when you think nobody is looking.” 

“It’s just bedroom eyes, Kitten.” 

Merrill frowned, a small crease forming between her eyebrows. 

“Isn’t that the point?” she said. “You wouldn’t have bedroom eyes if you were sleeping together. But they’re outside the bedroom too.”

Isabela sighed. 

“It’s complicated,” she said. “It’s been a few weeks but it’s just sex.”

“Oh.” Merrill continued walking for a moment, silent, the empty bags she took when shopping hanging limply from her arms. “It doesn’t look like just sex. He looks like he cares. You do too.” 

Isabela just shook her head. 

“Just sex, Kitten,” she said. 

As much as Merrill might be convinced otherwise, it was just sex. It wasn’t anything more than that, and it definitely wasn’t anything more than that, not like the elf was implying. 

- - -

“Aveline, my dear friend,” Isabela said, her most charming smile plastered across her face as she breezed into the woman’s office. “I was just wondering, for no reason at all, if there ever happens to be any spaces left… unattended around here. Alternatively, if you ever leave your office for prolonged periods of time.” 

The woman raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Who are you sleeping with now?”

“You wound me, Aveline,” she said, doing her best to look innocent. “I’m simply concerned about your wellbeing.”

“It can’t be Hawke, they’re with that mage.” Aveline continued as though she hadn’t spoken. Isabela rolled her eyes, planting her backside firmly on the captain’s desk. 

“Believe it or not, I do have a life outside of Hawke,” she pointed out. “I have other friends, just like you do.”

“Did Fenris finally give in to your pestering?”

“It's hardly pestering when he’s the one initiating” she muttered. “And some people enjoy being flirted with.”

“I’m not helping you have sex somewhere in my guard headquarters,” Aveline told her, tone flat, and Isabela pouted. 

“You never let me have any fun.”

Aveline just shook her head as Isabela excused herself, looking back as the guardswoman called her name. 

“I hope you’re happy with him” she said. 

Isabela smiled, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. Of course she was happy. It was easy for sex to make you happy. And that was all it was, right?

- - -

“So, Rivaini,” Varric said. “I’m going to need some details.”

“What are you talking about?” she snapped at the dwarf standing at the top of the stairs as she exited her room. 

“You and the elf. You’re not exactly doing a good job sneaking him in here. Unless you’re not even trying to hide it. If not, I’m hurt you haven’t told me already.”

“You’re getting nothing from me, Varric,” she told him, adjusting the jewelry that hung around her neck in the mirror he’d hung in the hall. Better lighting, or so he’d claimed. 

“Oh come on. The pirate and the fugitive? Star crossed lovers, finding each other despite their circumstances? Now that’s a story worth telling.” 

“It’s not a story,” Isabela muttered. “It’s just… sex. Sex between two people who happen to both be very attractive and can both appreciate that.” 

Varric laughed. 

“That’s just an added bonus,” he said. “Sex sells. But, not a problem. I can make up your tragic love story if I need to.”

“Go ahead,” she told him with a cheery smile. “Because there’s no real story here. We’re not star crossed lovers or going to give you a real love story.” 

Varric could do his best but he wasn’t getting any real details to write about. Not from her. And this wasn’t going to really be a lasting story worth telling anyway, right?

- - - 

Fenris was warm under her skin as she lay against his chest, one finger tracing ever so gently across one of the scars on his chest. He had a lot of those, marks from his past, marks that had become so familiar to her over the time they had spent together. 

“So I’ve been thinking,” she said. “About us. About this?”

“This?” Fenris asked, and she didn’t need to look to know that he had raised an eyebrow at her words. She knew him well enough by now. Just like he knew her well enough to know the comment was unusual. 

“This,” she confirmed, forcing her breathing to remain steady. “Don’t get me wrong, this is not a thing. I don’t do things. But I’ve been thinking. Maybe…” Andraste’s ass, why was this so hard? Lips pressed against the top of her head, a familiar, reassuring feeling. “Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if people knew… that I… care for you. Just a little.” 

Fenris’ lips curved into a smile against her hair. 

“I care for you too, Isabela,” he said. “Just a little.” 

Safe and warm in Fenris’ arms, in his bed, in his house, where she had spent so many of her nights lately, Isabela smiled. 

She wasn’t the kind of person who did things. But whatever this was, maybe she just needed to enjoy it. And if that meant everyone knowing, that maybe that was how it needed to be. 

[dagiftexchange]

DA Secret Santa Gift: mirelia853

Fenris is used to Kirkwall now. How things get worse and the outlook seems grimmer, and then Hawke comes in with that shit eating grin and heart of worry that she carries with her and saves the day. He sees the weight of it in the small moments. When he looks at her, and knows he should not. He long lost the right-- if he ever had it. But he can’t bring himself to turn away from the moments that Hawke seems so alone. He wants to give her privacy. He doesn’t want to imagine what moments in her mansion alone must be like. Like when he left her there. He doesn’t deserve to turn away from something he took part in causing, and neither can he leave her alone again. Not again. They’re all at the Hanged Man, drinking on Varric’s tab after a particularly exhausting misadventure on the coast. Varric loudly complained and made the mistake of offering drinks if he could get back to the city right away. He acts majestically put-upon now, in his seat at their table with a tankard next to him and the laughter of his closest friends around him, but they all know him too well to believe him.

Hawke snaps back to herself at that peel of laughter that Varric primmed and primed for her (Fenris is not the only one who watches Hawke) and she joins in the chaos like a duck to water. Their gatherings are warm, and familiar and a safe haven for them all. Even him. Even her. Even though they complicate it for each other. They leave the sticky countertops and drunken shouting of the Hanged Man far later in the night than they should, but Hawke is smiling. She’s smiling and chatting about anything and everything that comes to her mind with wild gestures and antics that make her point (whatever that is) further. Fenris can’t be bothered to care about anything but the cut of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes. He’s a bit worse for wear too, but that hardly matters. They stumble and laugh and shush each other all the way to Hightown. Aveline had left at a far more reasonable hour so it’s just them tonight. She muttered something about Hawke and Fenris only having a copper of sense between the two of them while she did, but Donnic waited for her so… A copper of sense should be enough to get them there, Fenris thinks. It’s not like they have any reason to rush home. Hawke trips at the top of the stairs, or maybe he does, and they stumble into each other. Hawke laughs loudly, and Fenris curses. The fall down to Lowtown would certainly take care of that single copper of sense left. Hawke giggles, “I’ve never heard you curse in common.” She still hasn’t. “Common is clumsy,” he tells her. “Not enough emphasis.” “​You’re ​clumsy.” “Am not.” “You ​are!” ​Hawke ducks from his arm that had somehow found its way to her waist. Then she pokes his shoulder pointedly. The force makes him sway. “See!” Her smile is wide and triumphant, and Fenris loves the glee in her eyes. So he keeps arguing. “You are the one who nearly made us fall down the stairs.” Hawke gasps in offense. “​No— ​that was ​you!” Her beautiful, proud face is indignant and so, so offended. He has to laugh. He laughs deep and loud and too much for a simple drunken conversation he’s becoming too sober for. But that’s how it is with Hawke. It’s always more than he bargained for. He doesn’t think he should tell her that— it doesn’t sound right. But it’s how he feels when he’s with her. Utterly unprepared. They’ve drifted closer together, inexplicably and inevitably. Hawke’s grin is wide and happy. Her eyes are as bright as gems. He could count her lashes as they brush against her cheeks. He could so ​easily​ step closer, cage her in his arms and then— He stills. Regrets. Vast kaffas, he regrets so much. It’s ruining him. He can’t let it ruin her. It’s so hard to be careful with her sometimes. He ​knows ​he should be. For both their sakes, but it’s so easy to lose himself in the freedom she provides every time she’s near. He sways backwards, and this time he feels the ledge of the step too late. Hawke’s eyes widen and she moves like sunlight across the sky to snatch his hand. She pulls and he crashes into her like a heavenly collision, the warmth of her radiating into his chilled bones. They stand chest to chest, gazes locked. He wonders if it’s her heartbeat he feels thundering against his ribs, or if it’s his own— shouting a benediction his mouth can’t. He almost hopes so, now that she’s close enough to hear. It would take the choice away from him. It would make all of this so much simpler. Hawke’s eyes are clear as crystal. Her fear for him cleared the clouds of inebriation almost completely. Heavens above, hells below, whatever is actually true-- he-- that-- what did he do to manage to become something Hawke holds in her heart of worry. How did he become another person she had to sweep in and save?

Always, a voice wiser than his own whispers. So when did it become a problem? Hawke swallows. He watches the movement, transfixed.

“Are…” she sucks in a breath, “are you all right?”

No. He was not all right. And that was the problem. “I’m fine,” he answers, then adds, “thank you for saving me.” He means it for more than this, and with the way Hawke’s eyes glisten, she knows.

Seems he wasn’t the only one to play up the drink. His heart pangs painfully. Are they really so alike in this?

He watches her face fall and her emotions rise and it’s too much. Too much for both of them.

He escorts her home. It’s quicker, now that pretense is gone and fear is high. Fear of getting too close again and fearing the outcome.

She smiles at him when he bids her goodnight. It’s beautiful and fraught with painful understanding. It’s maybe the worst part of this— the way they understand each other’s pain and how it limits them. Being understanding of those limits. And wanting. Always the wanting even ​still​. Fenris doesn’t sleep that night. Instead, he manages to get on the roof of his mansion and stare at the sunrise as it pierces the sky with light. It doesn’t help, but the freedom of a new day makes it feel like she’s there.

***

Fenris still watches the sunrise now, but it’s far less lonely. He promised her his future, if he had one. Seems like he did-- that he does. It’s been years of knowing Hawke. Years of loving her with the fullness of honesty. They’ve grown past the past, and Fenris is… happy. He likes to think Hawke is, too.

They’ve been through the years together. Hawke likes to tease they’re old now, and maybe she’s right. Fenris only knows it’s hard to feel any other way than free when she’s near.

Their life has not been quiet, even still. If they’re old it would be a sort of accomplishment. They’ve had some close calls, just as many (if not more) grief-stricken conversations of promises not to be so stupid, of promises to come back laced with the understanding they’ve always had of each others’ pain. Pain and duty.

They’ve never stopped each other from doing what needs to be done, no matter how painful it is. This is another of those situations, it’s not even the worst one they’ve been in. He’s more worried for Hawke than himself, but he thinks that this is something they need to do-- maybe Hawke more than him. They’re going to visit Varric, who has somehow and some way found himself the Viscount of Kirkwall. Fenris nearly laughed himself horse when he read the letter. Hawke had read it five more times afterwards, then announced they were going. Not too long after, Isabella picked them up in Garen and now they were on their way.

The sunrise over the sea is breathtaking. “Oh come on now, pretty eyes!” Isabella calls, Hawke at her side and hands on her hips. “It won’t be that bad!” Isabella is trying to rope them into working with the crew. Normally, not an issue-- Fenris has had to work his way to Kirkwall from Tevinter, after all. His grace and strength make quick work of the rigging and his scowl warded off most of the unwanted attention. But… He’s pretty sure he’s seen one of her and Varric’s chapters of friend fiction start like this. He lifts an eyebrow at his hopeful and salacious old friend. He’s not a big sharer. “Isabella’s just bossy and taking advantage of the situation,” Hawke says with a smile and a playful roll of her eyes. “What can I say? I like to be in charge.” Isabella winks and Hawke laughs. Her eyes are still bright like gemstones, her smile still beautiful. Maybe they are getting old, or a least wiser, because that smile feels like a call home every time he sees it. And he doesn’t resist anymore. He walks across the deck to them. Hawke is right there so he loops and arm around her waist and makes sure his stance is good (it is) if she wants to lean into him. She does. Isabella wrinkles her nose under her rather impressively feathered hat. “Oh you two ​are​ old now, aren’t you?” Hawke laughs brilliantly. Fenris raises that eyebrow again. “Jealous?” Isabella guffaws, “I’m never getting old, sweetness.” “Hm.” Hawke elbows him. Isabella scowls, but there’s laughter in her eyes. “All right, no free rides! Get over there and trim the sails!” She points to the front of the ship and with an exaggerated salute and an “Aye Captain!” from Hawke, they go. “I have no idea how to trim the sails,” Hawke says casually, walking beside him and dodging the actual crew when necessary. “I’m not sure it’s even a term,” Fenris says. He supposes that Isabella doesn’t know the Tevene translation for him to know for sure. Hawke snorts, her hair dancing in the wind, “So the command was really ‘please get out of my way, sweet cheeks.’” He rumbles a laugh, and they get to the stem. They settle naturally at the railing, leaning against it and looking out at the sea. “We haven’t been back in years.” “No,” he agrees. “We haven’t.” Hawke is quiet, and Fenris turns to lean his back against the wood to watch her thoughtful face. He waits. “Are you scared?” She asks, not looking at him. “To see it again?” He thinks about it, but his answer doesn’t change. “No. I think Varric has things well in hand, or he wouldn’t have asked us to come.” Hawke sighs, and bites her lip. “He didn’t really ask me to come. Of course he wouldn’t but…” She does look at him then, and her eyes are so worried all over again. “He sounded so hopeful that I would. I couldn’t just…not come.” Fenris stays silent for a moment. “Are you scared?” “I’m terrified.” She admits, “I couldn’t tell you until there was no going back otherwise I wouldn’t go and I think I… I think I need to see it again.” Her strength awes him even still. Her skin is golden in the sunlight, and the wind tosses her hair and her eyes are shining up at him. “Whatever you need, I will be with you.” She smiles then, his favorite smile of hers. Soft and content and warm. She drifts to his side and he welcomes her in his arms as she presses a kiss to his jaw. “I love you.” He smiles at her voice, the softness of it caressing his neck where she’s tucked her head and the words warming his heart like a sunrise. A heavenly collision he once called this— in the dark streets of a city that took so much from her. One that won’t anymore, so long as he can help it. “I love you, too.” Hawke likes to tease they’re old now, and maybe she’s right. Fenris only knows it’s hard to feel any other way than free when she’s near.

[sabineelectricheart]

The Long Road

Summary: Hawke asks Sebastian to accompany her to the Wounded Coast to help matchmake Aveline and Donnic. The Brother is not amused.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 1909

Notes: So, I’ve been playing DA these days, and I thought to cross-post here some fanfictions I wrote way back when. Enjoy!

Sitting on the floor by the door of the City Guard Captain is certainly not the best use of my time.

Hawke was twirling her hair distractedly, to my great surprise, also looking extremely bored and rather uncomfortable. I did not think she had that tick, as I felt that fighting highwaymen and explorations down the Deep Roads did not seemed befitting to hair care and the affairs of the heart.

Well, this whole day has been about surprising circumstances.

*_*_*_*_*

“Please, Sebastian!” She begged. “The whole thing feels so ungainly!”

She came looking for me at the Chantry, early that morning, while I tended to the candles to the dead. I had not the chance to finish my prayers before she grumbled her request.

I was used to Hawke’s weird invites, and usually I am more than glad to attend to them. She is a good friend and a fierce fighter, I never feared for my life with her by my side, not to mention my standing debt with her.

This, however, was a little too weird. To help matchmake the Guard Captain with a guardsman. By doing the rounds ahead of them.

“I can see that.” I agreed. “That is why I don’t think I should get involved. How would Guard Captain Aveline say if she knew you are being so open about her private life?”

“She asked me for help, and now I’m asking you…” She mumbled.

“She asked you, not me. You should do what you can, not bite more you can chew, and certainly not go spreading the tale around town.”

“I know that!” She defended. “That’s why I came to you, really. Varric and Isabela would tell all the patronage at the Hanged Man, Merrill has good intents, but she has an awful lack of tact, and Fenris and Anders are pants at romance.”

“And you thought a Brother of the Chantry would be a better option?”

“Yes?” She said, weakly. “Look, you had a, er, prolific romantic life when you were younger. Besides, mother tells me all the noble girls ask for you to hear their confessions.”

I felt my cheeks redden. “That’s beside the point!”

“What I mean by that is that you know how it works.” She countered, matter-of-factly, then, whispering, she said, “That’s more I can say for myself.”

The declaration made me halt for a moment, as I was quite sure that she would have had involved herself with Fenris at some point in time, or at least Anders in the three months they were away at the Deep Roads.

Nevertheless, while I heard her quite well, in respect for her right to privacy over her affairs of the heart, I did not press, despite my deep-seeded curiosity in the matter.

“I do not know what you would call experience, but I insist that I have no special skill over those matters. Even if I did, my, ahem, interests have been firmly and historically towards the fairer sex, and I come to understand that this is an entirely different métier.” I argued, trying to put an end to the discussion.

She groaned unseemly, and looked me dead in the eyes. “I didn’t want to tell you that, but I have no choice. Yesternight, Aveline wanted me to take Donnic for a drink at the Hanged Man and distract him for a while before she arrived, and now he’s under the impression I’m interested in him. He rejected me, of course, and thank the Maker for it, but I’m horribly embarrassed by that.

“If you were to come with me, perhaps… Well, perhaps he would understand I don’t want nothing with him and refrain from doing this sort of comment. At least, I think he wouldn’t jump to that conclusion anymore. Just… Please?”

Guardsman Donnic thought Hawke was interested on him, out of all people? And then came to the conclusion she was not worth his affections? He had quite a sense of self, huh?

Marian Hawke was not only a blue-blood, hailing from one of the most important families of the Free Marches, and with an enviable martial skill, which serves to memory that he made use of when she saved him. She was remarkably beautiful as well, yes, but that is not all, either. She had a noble character that was very hard to come by, always in service of the downcast of Kirkwall, even if she made questionable decisions on occasion.

The thought that Donnic is somehow above her made me want to laugh.

“Fine. Let’s go.” I conceded, sighing.

She beamed and led me to the city gates by the hand. I did not mind.

*_*_*_*_*

Her plan at the Wounded Coast did not go well.

Aveline was right in asking for all the help she could get, as she was hopeless when it came to romantic relationships, and it was painfully distressing to watch it unfold.

After clearing the entire path of highwaymen and traffickers, Donnic and Aveline had a completely uneventful patrol, where she could not form a single sentence that did not feel like nails on a chalkboard, not to mention the pitiful romantic caliber of it.

Hawke was downright frustrated, whispering expletives to herself she thought I could not hear, and I usually would chastise the language, but there was a time and a place to swear, and I ought to say this was it.

Finally, when they reached our outpost at the end of the trail, she forsook their anonymity and jumped in front of the pair of guardspeople, a wagging finger in front of her face.

“We don’t have all night, you know?!” She shouted at them.

Donnic, confused, looked between me, emerging from the bushes, Hawk and Aveline.

“Would someone please tell me what is going on?” He asked.

I sighed. “Guardsman Donnic, excuse my bluntness, but for the Maker’s sake, me and Hawke have been trying to help Captain Aveline to communicate her feelings for you all day. Please cooperate, because she is helpless.”

“Captain?” He turns to her to confirm, and she could only laugh noncommittally. Faced with such riveting response, he responded, uncomfortable, “I… Should get to the barracks.”

“Most unwise.” I commented, but made no further attempt of dissuading the man.

As he left, Aveline turned to Hawke in absolute rage. “I thought we were friends.”

“Friends sometimes push.” Was her response.

“I have to fix this. He could ask for a transfer, file a complaint.” She said, concernedly, and then turned to me. “You! You will come to the barracks and explain why you put him on the spot, or so help me!”

“Aveline, love is patient, love is kind, but love does not read thoughts.” I pointed out. “I hear you wanted to know whether you were a good match for each other, and I am sorry to say, there is no other way. The Maker will not tell you the right answer, you will have to find out yourself.”

Her eyes narrow and her hold on her sword tightens. “I will see you at the Keep.”

*_*_*_*_*

Once at the City Guard headquarters, Aveline had yet to calm herself down.

She paced back and forth through the main lounge, the other guards looking curiously at us.

“Maker, where is Donnic?” She begruntled. “I have to stop this before it arrives at the viscount. Maybe a formal apology. Something that show the guards they still can trust me.”

“Perhaps a few awkward gifts should help.” Hawke pointed out, and I snickered.

The redhead glared at her friend.

“You are their captain, Aveline.” I said, trying to defuse the situation. “You are not a golem; you are a human being. They expect you to have feelings, and are bound to respect you more if you show them on occasion.”

“Not if they are getting on the way of the job!” She countered.

“You don’t know that yet.” Hawke piped.

“It doesn’t matter! It’s a liability!” The other woman responded, deeply frustrated and afraid. “I will not be that stupid again.”

Guardsman Donnic chose that moment to appear down the stairs at the headquarters.

“Excuse me, Serah Hawke, Messere Vael, I need to speak with Aveline in private.”

“Guardsman Donnic.” Aveline acknowledges him, looks for confirmation from Hawke and motions for them to converse at her office.

*_*_*_*_*

Now, we wait.

A loud giggle coming from the room surprises Hawke, who uncrosses her arms and straightens her back.

“It seems to be going well.” She commented.

“It would appear so.” I agreed.

Her mouth twitched slightly over her thoughts, and then she sits next to me. “Hey, Sebastian?”

“Yes?”

“Before you made your vows, have you ever been in love?”

“No.” I said, categorically. “When I first left the Chantry, which was when I started dragging the family name through the mud, my mother offered me a choice: either to return to the order or to get married.

“I abhorred the idea of being what I thought to be equivalent to shackled to a woman the rest of my life, so I thought I could just pretend to have a righteous life with the sisters for a year or two, and then resume my prior interests once my parents forgot about it. Funny how things turned out.

“Had I been in love, truly in love, my choice would certainly be other. In fact, perhaps I would never get to the point of having to chose at all, I would have never strayed.”

“I see.” She tutted. “Do you regret it? Making your vows? Being unable to marry?”

I chuckled. “I could never regret a promise made to the Maker. However, I do wish things have never gone this way.”

“You mean, the Harimanns?”

“Yes, that too. I was more than happy to continue my life as a third son, keeping my vows, but I think I would be happy as a minor noble in an estate in the Marches, and that would include having a family, too.”

She smiled sadly at me. “For what is worth, I am sorry for what happened with your family. I am sorry you are being forced into a role you do not really want. Maker knows it’s something I have experienced.”

I thought about what I could say about that matter, but I was still trying to wrap my head around what had happened. Instead, I asked of her, “What about you? Do you desire to get married?”

“Yeah.” She responded shily. “I am a mage. I think I should marry, I feel like I should, for my people at Circles that cannot. Besides, you tend to develop a desire for stability when you become a refugee.”

I sighed. “I see. Who would you want to marry, then?”

Her cheeks redden. “I don’t know. The best I can tell you is I want a good man.”

“Preferably a direct one?” I asked in jest.

“Andraste, yes!” She breathed out.

As she spoke, Donnic emerged from the office, bowed his head slightly, and Aveline asked to talk to her.

“Sebastian?” She asked from the doorstep. “Would you care for waiting for me? We could stop by the baker’s before walking to the Chantry.”

I smiled. “I would love to.”

“Great.” She, too, beamed. “I’ll be right out.”

So, I began to think, what does make a good, direct man? Perhaps Varric knows the answer. I ought to ask him one of these days.

*_*_*_*_*

Dragon Age II Masterlist

[dragonagereacts]

Could we have da2 companions react to Hawke each time they lost someone? Like, Hawke would cover their emotions and pretend it didn't effect them, but they'd be more irrational in battle. Almost asking to be killed with how many times they end up injured.

Griffin here! I just wanted to say that the perspective I took while writing this was of the younger Hawke siblings dying or being made Grey Wardens. It gives more angst that way.

Anders: Anders watched Hawke intently after the deep roads, unsure of how to approach them after the loss of their sibling. Even if Hawke’s sibling is alive, Anders knows how hard it is to have someone you are close to be ripped from you. When Anders is in the party he is always quick to heal a reckless Hawke, always keeping an eye on them. Anders had heard about Hawke’s other sibling, the one who never made it out of Lothering and he felt pity for Hawke. To have come so close and to lose so much in an instant. He tries to comfort Hawke when he can, though he feels like he is not the best person to offer that support. Anders makes sure Hawke knows that they can count on him to be there and to help them if they need it. When Hawke finds their mother’s re-animated body, Anders has no words. He has no words as he watches Hawke, the strongest person he has seen since his travels with the Warden, sob and curse the Maker for allowing this to happen. Anders is a frequent visitor at Hawke’s estate, more so after the incident with Hawke’s mother. After each loss, Anders has noticed a dramatic decline in their stops at his clinic as they no longer bothered getting their wounds patched up. He makes frequent house calls now, dropping by to make sure Hawke is alive after every mission and quest they go on. Most times he is accompanied by some of the other companions as they all worry for Hawke’s safety.

Aveline:  Aveline was there when Hawke lost one of their siblings. She had heard the heart-wrenching shout of Hawke as they tried to get to their sibling in time, but it had been too late. She remembered how hopeless Hawke looked as they held their dead sibling in their arms, blood soaking their clothes. After they managed to escape Lothering, Aveline did her best to keep an eye on Hawke, even after they finished their year of work. She took up a position in the guard to help keep tabs on Hawke. If Aveline went with Hawke into the deep roads and if Hawke’s sibling was brought as well, she felt her heart rip open as Hawke lost their last sibling. She felt the pain of losing a sibling as well, now that the Hawke’s had become her family. Even if Anders was present and found the Grey Wardens Hawke had still lost another part of their family. After the deep roads, Aveline saw the beginnings of a problem. Hawke threw themself into combat, even if they were a mage, they were always on the front line. Challenging dangerous opponents and Aveline wondered if Hawke had a death wish. When Hawke found their mother’s re-animated body, Aveline swore she saw all hope leave Hawke’s eyes. They had lost everything and everything they had built was crumbling in front of them. Aveline is one of the first companions to rush to Hawke’s side to ensure they don’t get themself killed. To her Hawke is family and she would do anything to keep them safe. When Aveline becomes Guard Captain, she makes sure there is always a guard keeping an eye on Hawke, especially when she is not around. By the end, Aveline has made an oath for herself. She will be Hawke’s shield when they can no longer lift theirs.

Fenris: Fenris never knew Hawke’s late sibling. He only knew tales of them and he knew the sadness in Hawke’s eyes whenever they spoke of their late sibling. However, Fenris did know their living sibling and despite what he may have others believe, he cared for their safety. Fenris knew that Hawke’s sibling was important to them, he has seen time and time again how Hawke will throw themselves into danger just to keep the younger Hawke safe. If Fenris came with Hawke into the Deep Roads along with Hawke’s sibling, he wishes he had the right words to say to Hawke as they hold their siblings’ dead body close to their chest. It was at that point Fenris noticed a shift, a lack of caution in battle, a recklessness Fenris knew. Hawke had always been strong, confident, and brave, but now, now they were reckless. They ran into danger, head first into the fray and Fenris feared losing them. As much as Fenris despises Anders, he does make frequent trips to the apostates clinic to either gather medicinal supplies to force onto Hawke or to get the apostate to Hawke. The night Hawke was searching for their mother, Fenris heard a pure and raw desperation in Hawke’s voice as they searched. A silent plea hanging on every word. When Hawke finally saw their mother and the terrible things that had been done to her, Fenris would later swear to Varric over a pint in the Hanged Man that he saw everything leave Hawke. Wherever Hawke was, Fenris was sure to be around.

Isabela: Isabela never knew how to react when the topic of Hawke’s late sibling came up. She expressed her sympathy for their loss with ale and some light-hearted jokes in an attempt to get Hawke to cheer up. She did her best not to broach that topic, never liking the look she would see on Hawke’s face. Instead she kept everything light and funny, dashing in the occasional innuendo to further lighten the mood. It wasn’t until she saw Hawke lose their living sibling, either to the taint in the deep roads or to becoming a Grey Warden. Isabela had met Grey Wardens in the past, she knew their lives were hellish. But having seen the pure anguish and agony on Hawke’s face as they cradled their dying sibling, she wishes she had enough ale to wipe it from her mind. To say Hawke was different would be an understatement. Their sense of self-preservation was hanging on barely. Isabela saw that the only thing keeping them going was their companions and their mother. When their mother was turned into that….that things, Isabela saw Hawke crack. She saw the toughest soul she had ever met shatter and after that the Hawke she had met in the Hanged Man all that time ago, was gone. They still pretended to be happy, to have playful banter, but Isabela knew what it was like to lose everything and be met with nothing. She was beside them in battle, blocking daggers meant for deadly spots and like the other companions she made sure they took care of themself. Even if she didn’t say it outwardly much or made it seem that obvious. She cares for Hawke a great deal and each time she sees them throw themself into the thick of battle, without caring about their own life, it makes her fight for them eve harder.

Merrill: When Merrill met Hawke and their sibling, she was ecstatic at the prospect of new friends. Even more so when she got to know them. The playful banter, the teasing, the deep amount of care for the other even if they bickered to no end, it reminded her of happier times in her clan. Hawke would speak of their late sibling and Merrill noticed how their smile never reached their eyes. She would do her best to cheer both Hawke and their sibling up, even when they were in the Deep Roads. However, she found herself heartbroken with Hawke as they held onto their sibling, sobbing into bloody armor. When they returned Merrill felt walls around Hawke and while they may joke and tease, their smile was forced and pain danced in their eyes. When Leandra goes missing and Hawke is searching for her, Merrill does whatever she can to help find her. Merrill was a blood mage and she had never felt ashamed for it. Not until that night when she saw Hawke break. She never knew someone could cry and scream the way they did, the pure agony and suffering in each cry as they begged their Maker, to the Creators to let them save her. Merrill knew Hawke had changed but she was worried she was wrong. It was when they were in Lowtown, walking around and clearing the streets like they usually did at night, that she saw how badly Hawke was hurting. They had a run-in with some Coterie. Merrill remembers Hawke running in, no hesitation. The wound was deep. Deep and avoidable. Merrill had seen Hawke avoid attacks worse than the one they received and with a sinking ache in her heart she knew Hawke was not okay. The Hawke estate always seemed to have at least one companion at all times in it as long as Hawke was there. After a few more close-calls, Merrill made sure to learn more healing spells and to keep a closer eye on Hawke in battle. Creators, she could not handle losing Hawke.

Varric: Varric had always listened to Hawke speak of their late sibling. It didn’t take a wise man to see that Hawke was not stable. They walked an edge, leaning more towards caution at the start, but as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, Varric noticed Hawke teetering more and more towards stupidity. He could have written about the Deep Roads in great detail. The moment Hawke realized their sibling wasn’t alright. It was heartbreaking as they held onto their sibling, tears mixing with ichor blood. The Tale of the Champion left out the cries that rang throughout the ancient thaigs, echoing off the stone as Hawke’s voice turned into a tortured gasp. The Tale of the Champion never covered the way Hawke carried the weight of their siblings’ deaths on their shoulders, how they were being drug down further and further. Varric watched Hawke carefully, knowing that mourning can lead people to do some stupid things. He was right. Hawke would come to the Hanged Man, battered and bruised, bare-knuckles bloody, and blood covering their armor. Varric never asked, he only listened as Hawke drowned their sorrows in his room. The battlefield changed for Varric. His eyes were no longer focused on just his enemies, no they were busy keeping tabs on Hawke, making sure they didn’t get themselves killed. When they found Leandra and Varric watched the last bit of strength leave Hawke, Varric gathered all of the companies together. He sat them all down and told them each what they needed to do. Hawke would still rush into danger but after the talk Varric and the others would be there right beside them, a reminder that they are not alone in this. They were never alone.

[jawsandbones]

Fenris soon takes notice of it. She says no to no one, nothing. She is approached often, and although she may question them, she will never turn them down. No matter what it may be. From the smallest errand, to the largest problem, Hawke is always there to help. She treats each task with the same sort of enthusiasm. When she comes to ask if he’d like to come, she always finishes with, “You don’t have to, if you don’t feel like it.” He wonders if she knows she has that same choice. Still, he always agrees to come with her.

It isn’t out of obligation, the fact that she had helped him. No, she’s made it clear that their slate is quite clean. He hesitates on the matter of friendship, as he’s not certain they’re friends. He’s yet to settle on what exactly a friend is. He knows he enjoys her company, her light conversation. She makes it easy, with kind words ready on her tongue. Even the silence is pleasant, comfortable. He doesn’t feel the need to fill it, happy to simply exist in it. What Hawke is to him… he doesn’t know what to call it.

He’s surprised when she knocks on his door for the second time that day. At least, this time, it isn’t for an errand. “I’ve been roped into it,” she says, “so I’m roping you in. I happen to enjoy your company.” She waits for him outside the estate. Dressed in mud-stained trousers, an overlarge tunic which is tucked inside her waist band. Hair slightly mused, and she presses a hand against one side of her face as she yawns. She pulls her face along with her hand, thinks something of it, and raises the other one to rub against her face. She sniffs afterwards, followed by another yawn. Blinking quickly, turning to look towards the door, and she stands straighter when she sees him. He struggles to suppress the smile.

The Hanged Man is overwhelming, as usual. The vibrantly loud conversation, rambunctious laughter, the smell of alcohol, sweat, and whatever mystery stew has been cooked up for the day. They slip through the crowd to their table, in that corner. It’s as private as a place in the Hanged Man can be. Isabela is shuffling the cards in her hands, handing half the deck to Merrill. Anders reaches for the half Isabela still holds, intending to see if she’s cheated. She keeps the cards away from him, a sly smile on her lips. Varric and Aveline are discussing the guard, surprisingly, and did she know there were three wanted criminals sitting just a few tables away? Yes, but she’s off duty, and she takes another swig of ale.

Hawke is easily able to attach herself from one to the next. Discussing the alienage with Merrill, to Lowtown with Isabela. Discussions on how it’s very like being on a ship, and Anders dryly states even the diseases are the same. They drink, they gamble, they laugh, they talk, and the night wears on. Near the end of it, Hawke doesn’t sit as straight as she started. A bit slumped, her arms crossed, the smile on her face as she follows the heated conversation between Anders and Aveline. Fenris nearly jumps when he feels it.

Hawke rests her head on his shoulder. “Today was surprisingly tiring,” she says as she makes herself comfortable, closes her eyes.

“You didn’t have to say yes,” he says.

“I know, but I wanted to anyway,” she says, shuffling just a bit closer to him so that her arm presses against his. He takes care not to move his shoulder. His hands tighten around the mug he holds. He looks down, slightly, away from the others. Her knee against his, and the smile slowly spreads across his face.