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stitchcasual · 7 years

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Sappy Prompts #21 “I’m better when I’m with you" for Durill Hawke/Fenris 💖

OK, so this one kind of took a turn? It’s not what I envisioned initially and isn’t completely on prompt, but it’s what I got. And I may redo this later, so *finger guns* Here we go

“Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

Hawke couldn’t breathe. The whole conversation had him dizzy, and he felt as though he moved in a dream even as he sat, frozen. The fire burned merrily in the hearth, but he couldn’t feel it. Fenris stood, closer than at any time in the last three years, and Hawke could practically feel him humming with a nervous energy, waiting for him to speak.

“Fenris, I—” Hawke swallowed. “I understand. I—I understood.” Eventually is the unspoken tag on the end of that. He hadn’t always, not for a long time, understood.

The mug of ale crashed into the fireplace, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he’d have to send Bodahn or that new elf servant out to the markets for a replacement. For that one as well as the other three he’d hurled and broken this week. He’d chosen a bad time to add a new member to the household, he reflected, laughing somewhat hysterically; Orana was likely terrified of him now, between everything that had happened. Sandal delivered most of the meals to his door, the one person in the house least affected by Hawke’s rage.

He spent his nights stalking the city, greatsword dripping blood as he cut down band after band of thugs. Isabela discovered him leaning against the wall of the Hanged Man one night, swearing loudly as he pulled a dagger from his side. She’d tutted, helped him staunch the wound, and walked at his side to correct his staggering path down to Darktown and Anders. Neither spoke of it in the laylight, when Hawke gathered their merry band to perform thankless services for the city, but more often than not, Hawke would find her spinning and flipping her daggers in the Hightown courtyard outside his home when he left for the night.

In the heat of battle, his anger served him well. When he faced off against a dozen armed opponents, he could truly release all of the emotion welling inside him: the pain of Fenris’s absence, the sting of betrayal, the bitter rage of incomprehension. Each swing of his sword asked the questions he couldn’t give voice to: why did he leave? why hadn’t he come back? what had Hawke done? what had he not done? had Hawke misunderstood his intentions? was there anything to be done? why did he leave??

The first month, every bandit wore Fenris’s face.

The rest of the year, his own snarled back at him.

In a way, nearly dying to the Arishok was the best thing that could have happened. Not that Hawke would choose to be impaled if he had his druthers…but the period of convalescence, when his grip was still too weak to hold a sword and his anger ebbed, afforded him moments to begin to piece together some kind of understanding.

Fenris’s eyes searched Hawke’s as he stood, close enough for Hawke to touch if he just reached out. The moment stretched, each heartbeat a lifetime. Hawke held Fenris’s gaze, hoping it could say everything he seemed incapable of vocalizing.

That for the last three years he’d felt adrift, as though he’d lost his mooring.That he was the one who deserved Fenris’s hatred, not the other way around.That Fenris was the best of him and made him better than he could ever hope to be.That he wished they could start over.That he couldn’t take another day apart.

Fenris must have seen something in his eyes, some inkling of Hawke’s feelings, because his lips quirked slightly, and he stepped even closer, placing his hands to either side of Hawke, leaning down.

“If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side.”

Hawke couldn’t breathe. He filled his arms, his lungs, his mind with Fenris, drinking him down as a man too long marooned at sea quaffs water on his return to shore. His freeze thawed, and he cupped Fenris’s face, threaded his fingers through beloved white hair, ran his hand across the expanse of Fenris’s back. He only came up for air, gasping, trying not to panic, when Fenris pulled away. But his green eyes were soft, his face open, as Hawke looked to him. After a moment, when Hawke’s breathing evened out, Fenris tugged him gently back to meet his lips. And later, when they fell asleep in front of the fire, warm and content and together, Hawke buried his face in Fenris’s hair, smiling and happy and better.

#dragon age 2 #fenhawke #fenris #hawke #sappyprompts #durill hawke #da2 #asks #gothic-princess-witch #stitch fic #tumblfic

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