#fenris angst

[sun-marie]

It's domestic Fenhawke-loving hours 💜

#alcohol tw #i needed to draw them with no angst for once #dragon age #dragon age 2 #fenris #femhawke #anwen hawke #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris da2 #hawke da2 #my art #sun-marie art #artists on tumblr #digital art #digital illustration #digital painting #illustration #fanart #fan art

[shadowdaddies]

Reunited - Part II

Fenrys x Reader

Part I | Part III

Summary: after years of working as a spy in Adarlan, you are finally reunited with your cousin, Aelin, as you join the war to reclaim Terrasen and bring peace to Erilea. What you don't expect is to meet your mate in the middle of a war.

A/N: this story will have at least two more parts; this one is very angsty I’m sorry

Warnings: canon-typical violence, EOS spoilers

The door to the pub slammed behind Aedion with such a force that you flinched in your seat. 

“He will come around,” you murmured, reaching your hand across the table towards your father. You sighed softly at Gavriel’s dejected expression, taking his hand in your own as you mustered a weak smile. “I’ll talk to him,” you promised, knowing the sway you held with your brother.

Your father’s tawny eyes shone with something like pride as he squeezed your hand, his blonde hair swaying as he shook his head. “Aedion is right to feel the way that he does. I don’t expect him to come around easily. He is as stubborn as your mother,” Gavriel paused, a lump working in his throat as he studied you. “And you are as fiercely kind.”

You opened your mouth to say more, something to comfort him, when an alarm rang in the distance. Gavriel had drawn his dagger before you could blink, his body blocking yours protectively from the rest of the room. Another alarm sounded from the lookout tower, dreading realization crashing over you like the waves you looked to out the window. 

Jumping from your seat, you sprinted up the stairs to Rolfe’s office Aelin stood, her relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to Rolfe’s torrent of emotions. He regretfully reached a tattooed hand towards Aelin, the blonde gladly shaking it. “Thank you for your assistance, Lord Rolfe.”

The mischievous glint in your cousin’s eyes told you all that you needed to know, but Aelin wasted no time barking orders for everyone in the room to get to the ships and prepare for the Valg’s approach. 

Fenrys found you quickly, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist as you hurried towards the docks. Despite everything, the peace that filled you at his simple touch was undeniable. In the few days you had spent together, Fenrys had become an anchor in the storm of this impending war. 

“Are you okay?” he murmured, voice like a soft balm to your nerves as you took his hand from around your waist, weaving your fingers through his own. 

Your gaze flicked to his, the tenderness in his onyx eyes grounding you in the moment. “I’m alright,” you promised, squeezing his hand in reassurance. 

You reached the ship, Fenrys lifting you by the waist to help you over the ledge of the vessel, only for you to trip and stumble into his warm, toned chest. Your hearts pounded, synchronized even in the chaos as you made your way to the bow of the boat where Aelin and Rowan stood.

Salty air whipped around your face in breathtaking levels of wind, seawater splashing as Rowan’s wind propelled the ship unnaturally fast against the waves. Lysandra’s scales shone underneath the water, what would be a dazzling sight if not for the fear that had worked its way deep inside of you at the sight of the Valg fleet approaching. 

The next hour was a blur of fighting, canon fire, sea monsters, and every impossible thing you never believed could happen in this world. Nightmares followed the next several nights. The image of Aelin, burning out of control and falling into the sea, Fenrys’s hand ripping from your own as he dove after her.

~~~

That night, you awoke in a cold sweat, hands clawing at the edges of the mattress as you’d clung to the railing of the ship when you’d watched your mate dive out of sight. You had barely registered your surroundings - the peaceful inside of your cabin - when a familiar warm hand touched your shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m here,” Fenrys murmured in your ear, a silent sob breaking through you at his voice. “Can I hold you?” he asked, hand lightly rubbing your shoulder. 

You nodded, sniffling as you tugged Fenrys’s hand from your shoulder, wrapping it around your waist as you moved as close as possible to his warmth. “You scared me today,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “I thought... I thought that this wonderful thing, this bond with an incredible male had come just in time for me to lose you. And I can’t. I can’t lose you, Fenrys. I’m sorry if it’s too soon for me to say that, but I don’t know how I’ve lived without you in my life.”

Blonde curls fell across your cheek as Fenrys leaned down, his lips warm as they pressed a lingering touch to your ear. “I understand completely. You have brought a light to my life that I did not think possible, and I would do anything to keep you safe and happy. That is why I dove after Aelin. She will keep you safe - I know that. And you are my priority now. You have given me new purpose.”

In all your years - even before those spent as a spy in Adarlan - you had never experienced such profound intimacy. Never connected, cared for someone as deeply as you did for your mate. It was frightening to consider, but his warm press against your body filled any cracks of doubt and worry, allowing you to sleep soundly in his arms. 

Each night passed the same way, Fenrys and you now sharing the same bed, simply holding each other. Your physical intimacy never went further than a kiss on the cheek, arms wrapped around one another’s waist, but the emotional connection was something you did not believe possible.

~~~

When Melisande’s fleet descended upon you, Fenrys kept you close to his side, the two of you working seamlessly as a team to defend your ships and allies from the Valg. Canon fire roared in your ears as you saw Lorcan’s dark form at the stern of the ship - his eyes set on the coast where he had left Elide. 

“Fenrys!” you called, desperate for your mate’s attention as Lorcan abandoned ship, the desperation with which he fought his way towards shore something you wouldn’t have understood until you met Fenrys. Your mate caught your gaze, his onyx eyes flaring wide as he tracked Lorcan’s movements.

“Elide is in danger. I need you to trust me - I will go help them, but I want you safe here on the ship,” Fenrys pleaded, hands cupping your cheeks as he blocked out the world to focus on you. 

“I can’t leave you again,” you admitted, hand coming up to hold his own. Silver lined your eyes as Fenrys’s forehead leaned against your own. “Please,” you whispered, voice broken as you held him close, as though you could stop him from leaving.

Your father’s hand clasped on Fenrys’s shoulder, drawing the two of you from your moment. “It’s now or never,” he spoke, voice firm yet warm as Gavriel nodded towards the dingy. “We will be able to hold off these forces, but we need to leave now if you want to help Lorcan and Elide.”

Without a second thought, you ran towards the dingy, hopping inside along your mate and father as the three of you rowed to shore. Stumbling through the sand, your legs ached from the strain of running towards the crowd of people further inland. And time stood still as you recognized the pale, black-haired female lashing out dark power at Aelin. 

Maeve’s eyes shone with wicked delight as people stood around, helpless while an exhausted Aelin crumpled before the fae queen. Your father rushed forward, leaving you behind with Fenrys as he pleaded Maeve to spare Aelin.

“Please,” Gavriel whispered, kneeling before Maeve. “Leave Aelin be. Take me instead. Take my life.” 

The scream that ripped from your throat was muffled by a large hand over your mouth, Lorcan’s intense gaze looking down upon you as he slowly shook his head. “Do not alert attention to yourself. She cannot know what you are to Fenrys,” he whispered. 

Every nerve in your body was on fire, panic coursing through your veins as you turned to see the male who swore to stay by your side, slowly inching further away. 

You were vaguely aware of your father, his own tears hitting the ground beneath him as he felt the pain of his blood bond being stripped away. Waves of horror knocked the breath from your lungs as Maeve called Aelin to bow, your cousin and Queen whipped before your eyes while no one took action.

Fenrys stood still, frozen under Maeve’s command as your mate could not afford to spare you a glance, leaving you at the mercy of Lorcan’s strong arm holding you back. “Do not make a scene, unless you want to make it worse for Fenrys,” he warned.

Salty tears streaked down your cheeks, your gaze locking with the tawny eyes of your father as he weakly managed his way over to you. Blinding anger coursed through you, confusion at how you could end up in this situation, surrounded by the most feared warriors, all of you forced into a position of waiting as your Queen was placed in an iron sarcophagus.

Fists clenched so hard your nails drew blood from your palms, disgusted with yourself as you allowed Aelin to be taken away so that your mate would be spared. And then the ground fell out from under you when Maeve ordered Fenrys to follow.

Your mate did not so much as spare you a look over his shoulder, but every muscle in his body seemed to strain as he fought against the order to walk away from you, from your father, your new family. 

You bit down hard, Lorcan hissing as your teeth sunk into his fingers, blood dripping from your lips as he released you. You charged after Fenrys, running with no plan other than willing to risk everything for the person who had become more than everything to you.

But once again, broad arms wrapped around your waist as your father held you in his arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” Gavriel whispered, tears streaking down his face as you felt his calm, healing power wash over you, the world fading to black as you lost consciousness.

#throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass imagine #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass x reader #fenrys x reader #fenrys fluff #fenrys angst #throne of glass fluff #throne of glass angst #gavriel throne of glass #aelin ashryver galathynius #aedion ashryver #lorcan salvaterre #throne of glass x you #throne of glass x reader imagine #tog imagine #fenrys tog #fenrys x reader fluff #fenrys x reader angst #fenrys moonbeam x reader

[throneofsapphics]

get up off the roof

Fenrys x f!Reader 

Summary: “There’s one person who could probably get through to her.” Rowan spoke carefully as if he was treading on dangerous water with his mate.

“They haven’t spoken in weeks.” She snapped. You felt bile rise in your throat, and decided eavesdropping was a very bad idea, so you fled silently back down the hall. 

Word Count: ~2k 

Warnings: grief, death of a parent, angst-ish, comfort if you squint

A/N: I should be working on my kinktober list, but this is what came out instead. 

Your breaths were heavy as you stood on the roof, your bare toes curling over the edge. The shingles were rough under your feet, and it took much of your focus to keep yourself balanced on the slope. Your heels dug in, and you let yourself lean back just enough to keep you from falling off the edge. It was a scorching summer day, and the rough material burned the soles of your feet, the sun heating through your clothes and leaving an uncomfortable warmth on your skin. 

It was only two stories up, if it didn’t work you’d still survive - maybe a bit bruised and with a few broken bones, but you were frustrated enough to get desperate. Ever since … that … your magic had been stifled, and you could barely reach it. Losing both of your parents a week of each other, the ones who taught you to love your magic and heritage in secret. Who provided you with unconditional support and love. Your magic felt intertwined with their memory, and every time you tried to reach for it, it shrunk further back as if the grief was too strong. It had been nearly a month, and it was slowly driving you insane. 

If anything, a situation that appears to be life threatening might bring it out of you. 

You thought you heard someone calling your name, far off in the distance, but shoved it away. Chances are nobody was there, you were always careful with the times you let yourself suffer, let your emotions reign free. 

Then, you were falling through the air as your heels pushed off the roof. Your body curled on instinct, and you hit the gods-damned bush. It hadn’t worked. 

“Are you insane?” You heard Aelin’s yell from the doorway, as she sprinted out towards the courtyard. Someone had been there. You cursed audibly, not at the pain but at the explanation you’d have to give now, and the pity that would follow. Pity made you feel as if you were shriveling inside, your entire body recoiling.

She gripped under your elbow, tugging you up to stand. Her eyes quickly traced your body, noting the small scratch on your elbow with a frown. Besides that, you were completely fine. Physically. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Despite the expletive, her voice was a bit softer. 

“I was ..” pressure built around your throat, choking you and stopping any more words from coming out. You couldn’t figure out how to explain it, even if you wanted to. Aelin tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Let’s get you inside.”

She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding tightly like you might disappear at any moment. Could you keep her from telling anyone else? Especially a specific someone who would lose their damn mind, despite them having no claim to you, and no desire to. Aelin would probably feel obligated as both your friend and theirs. You leaned your head against her shoulder with a sigh. If she wanted to, there was nothing you could do about it. 

A crow cawed in the distance and you felt a shudder run down your spine.  

She bundled you inside, and right off to her rooms where she started making tea. At least she kept it in her rooms and didn’t force you down to the kitchens. You probably looked an absolute mess, you could feel the leaves tangled in your hair and knew the bags under your eyes were likely a deep purple by now. 

You scented him moments before he entered, and let out a low curse. Aelin turned to you in alarm, and quickly walked towards the door but he’d flung it open before you could react. 

He stood in the doorway for a few moments, and you slowly turned to face him, despite your best efforts. 

“Take a tumble?” He raised his brows. 

“Get out.” Aelin snapped, shoving his chest back. He slowly backed out of the door, and you saw his eyes widen as the Queen slammed the door in his face. 

“Y/n,” Aelin’s voice was quiet, and drew your attention away from the heavy oak door. She was in front of you, shoving a warm cup into her hands. She crouched in front of you, silently healing the scrape on your elbow. Aelin sighed as she looked at you, and you had the sudden urge to throw the hot liquid in her face. But, that would be a very ungrateful thing to do. And assaulting the Queen of your country, even if she was a friend, was a bad idea. The doorknob rattled, and you heard a pounding on the door. Pine and snow, you registered that. Aelin rolled her eyes and shot you an apologetic look. 

She cracked it open just enough to speak to Rowan in hushed tones, low enough even your Fae hearing couldn’t pick up on it. 

Instead, you studied the mug in your hands, remembering a grounding technique. Warm from the liquid inside, the base was white, a lord of the north painted on one side. A small chip on the handle. You ran your thumb over it, it was a small dip in the porcelain, insignificant enough you never would’ve noticed it if you hadn’t been looking. But, you’d learned over the years that if you studied anything too long you would notice every little thing that was wrong. People and objects alike.  

“What were you trying to do?” Aelin drew you out of your reverie. 

The words, you could get just enough words out to tell her. Out of anyone, she might understand. “Get my magic back.” 

“There’s better ways to -”

You cut her off, “other ways haven’t worked.” You said harshly. 

Aelin let out a slow breath and studied you. As always, you felt like she tore through every damn layer of you - seeing right to the core. You were too alike in some ways, and could always call each other out on bullshit. “Try and let it come back on it’s own.” 

You’d tried. You’d fucking tried but it was miserable to not be able to access that part of yourself, the part that had disappeared for ten damned years and you didn’t want to spend a day longer without it. 

“Do you think talking about them would help?” She settled down next to you on the couch, legs crossed under her and turned to face you. 

You chewed on your bottom lip. You’d avoided thinking or talking about them as much as possible, figuring that would shove the pain and grief away and eventually it would disappear on its own. “Not yet.” 

You felt her disappointment, and ignored that too. 

-

“I don’t know how to help her.” Your best friend's soft voice floated through the open door. 

This was a conversation you weren’t meant to overhear, you knew that for certain. Besides, you didn’t need help, you just needed time. 

“There’s one person who could probably get through to her.” Rowan spoke carefully as if he was treading on dangerous water with his mate.

“They haven’t spoken in weeks.” She snapped. You felt bile rise in your throat, and decided eavesdropping was a very bad idea, so you fled silently back down the hall. 

-

Maybe it was punishment, or her form of protecting you but Aelin dragging you to state meetings made your head want to explode. If she could, she’d probably try to stay in your room with you. Either her or Rowan had been trailing after you constantly. Like two overbearing and fussy shadows. 

“I’m not a risk to myself.” You finally snapped one night. 

“Really?” Aelin matched your pitch and tone. “Because I watched my best friend jump off the gods-damned roof.” 

“You killed the gods.” 

“And if you died I’d bring you back to kill you myself.” She was almost yelling at this point. 

“Awe, you do love me.” You teased her, de-escalating and dodging the earlier topic. 

Aelin shot a long suffering look towards Rowan, who only looked on amusedly. 

“You could talk to him.” The bastard said. Aelin shot him a nasty look this time as you froze in place. 

“Rowan,” she growled at him, before looking back to you apologetically. 

“Or he could talk to me.” You said stiffly. 

“Because that’s worked so well, hasn’t it?” 

You forgot how much of an asshole he can be, and told him so. He only said to come up with more creative names for him before you stormed out of the room. It was a small mercy that they let you have your tantrum in peace, staying back in their rooms. If they had followed you this time you probably would have thrown something at them. 

You were stewing in your anger and barely paying attention to where you were going as your subconscious guided you on muscle-memory. Right to your roof. You didn’t stand at the edge this time, in fact you sat several feet behind, on a flatter area and far back enough any busy bodies would assume you’re just relaxing. You carefully lowered yourself down on your back to stare up at the stars. A crow landed next to you, peering at you with uncanny eyes. 

“Hello,” you muttered. They seemed to follow you everywhere and you couldn’t decide if it was an omen or not. To your surprise, the animal cawed in response. “I’m going to assume that's a friendly greeting.” 

The bird ruffled its feathers, still staring at you. “If I didn’t know better,” you continued, “I’d assume you’re a Fae or Shifter. 

You heard a snort coming from a few feet away and the animal took off with a screech. There’s only one person who can sneak up on you like that. 

“If I said to fuck off would you actually leave?” You didn’t bother looking at him. 

“Probably not.” The air shifted around you, and when you turned your head he was laying next to you, only a foot or so away. If you reached your arm out you could touch him. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Do I need a reason to come see you?” He let out an edged chuckle, and you turned your head back to the night sky, searching for the lord of the north. 

“If I say yes will you be offended?” 

“So many questions.” He tutted. That is a yes, then. “They’re worried.” Your chest tightened and blood heated. Anger rolled from you in waves. They had no right to go spreading your business, telling whoever the hell they wanted …

“I can see it on their faces, the way they’re acting.” He continued, probably sensing the emotions rising in you like a dangerous wave, battering at the dams of your already fragile self control. “I haven’t asked any questions.” 

In your grief, he pulled further away from you. At a time when you needed him the most, he disappeared. You couldn’t figure out why the hell he decided to show up now, now that you were inches away from rock bottom. 

“Where have you been?” You tried not to sound accusatory but failed miserably. 

For once, he didn’t have a snarky response or reply to it. Instead, he reached for you. You didn’t move, but didn’t fight him as he tugged your hand into his. Your friend, the friend that had started to turn into more, just weeks before everything happened. 

“I’m sorry.” His thumb ran across your knuckles, and his hand tightened around yours, interlacing your fingers. 

“Y/n,” you heard a shout from your balcony. “Get off the roof!” Aelin was screaming, nearly at the top of her lungs. You should’ve known eventually. 

“You can join us or you can leave.” Fenrys yelled back at her, saving you from having to do it. 

A quiet, “oh,” came from below you, and you heard your balcony door shut. 

“My savior,” you teased, the words coming out naturally. 

“Glad to be of service.” His grin shone through his words, and when you turned the moon cast the perfect light over his face, highlighting all of his features. Onyx eyes captured your own, and his hair seemed to glow in the light. Like a bright light calling you in. You squeezed his hand once. 

“My knight in shining armor.” 

#fenrys x y/n #fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam x y/n #fenrys moonbeam x reader #throne of glass fic #throne of glass x reader #fenrys moonbeam #I don't know what proofreading is #my work computer broke down on me so this is what happened #I also put on my angst playlist #I think that's enough tags

[echoes-sounds]

“I won’t wait for you” is the biggest lie he would ever utter. He would wait, and he is. Years of waiting, pleading and bargaining for a chance to see her again. Sometimes there are no deals to be struck, sometimes there is only the weight of loss and the hope that somehow some way she will find her way home to him.

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #Fenris #hawke #fenhawke #femhawke #mage hawke #fade #da2 #art #animatic #characters #oc #Raine Hawke #angst

[allyjoe755]

These Small Hours

fenrys x reader

A/N: Chosen by polls. If you would like another poll-chosen story, like/reblog/comment below

Word Count: 513

Warnings: slight PTSD.

o-o-o

You woke up to screams.

Big, horrible, gasping shrieks in the middle of the night.

Your eyes snapped open as adrenaline filled your chest, quickly spreading to the rest of your body.

Oh, Gods, please, no—

Lying beside you, Fenrys’ eyes were screwed shut, his cheeks wet with tears, his body dampened by sweat. His fingers raked across the sheets of the bed, his chest heaving with large breaths.

In your chest, your heart tore ever so slightly.

You placed a hand on Fenrys’ shoulder, your thumb moving back and forth.

“Fenrys,” you began softly. “Fenrys, it’s alright.” 

You scooted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his torso.

“Fenrys, it’s just a dream. Fenrys.”

Even in his sleep, he shuffled to wrap an arm around you. It helped. His breathing was still quick and ragged, but slowly and surely, it was slowing. His cries were softer now. They would fade soon enough, you knew.

It helped to not wake him up during times like these. You had learned that the hard way, when you, not having experienced this before, had in a panic shaken him awake– causing his panic to grow, small injuries to occur, for him to lose substantial sleep for nearly a week.

You had apologized profusely for weeks after. Fenrys had only said that it was his fault the nightmares happened in the first place.

But it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t, and it had taken months to convince him of that. Even now, you were sure there were times when he still doubted. That was alright. You knew that it would take time.

Just like this. It had taken you so many times, so many sleepless nights, so many tears, to realize how to best support Fenrys when nights like these came.

So, for now, you just let your head rest on Fenrys’ chest. His cries had ended. You listened to his heartbeat slow back to an even, steady, calm rhythm. Your own body calmed down from its abrupt awakening as Fenrys breathed in and out, in and out.

Perhaps, in the morning, he would tell you what he had dreamt– the terrors that had visited him in the night. There were days he would, and days he wouldn’t. You didn’t push him.

He would heal in his own time. For now, you would walk alongside him through it.

In his sleep, Fenrys ran his hand down your arm until he found your hand. He squeezed it.

“I’m here,” you whispered back. You weren’t sure, if through his sleep, he heard you. In fact, you were quite positive that he couldn’t. Even still, you spoke the words– said them out loud, even if it was just to remind yourself that you weren’t going anywhere.

The man beside you was broken, and bruised, but it didn’t make him any less whole. It didn’t make him any less loved.

You pressed a kiss to the skin above Fenrys’ heart.

It didn’t make him any less capable of love.

“I’m here,” you repeated, before allowing yourself to fall back into sleep.

#writing #hurt/comfort #throne of glass #tog #fenrys #fenrys moonbeam #angst #fluff #fae #romance #fenrys x reader #fenrys x you

[dragonagecompanions]

DA2 crew reacting to Hawke who stops caring? Maybe after the death of Leandra they just stop showing any kind of emotion? Not even rage or sadness it's as if they're made tranquil but without the need to be cut off from the fade instead, it's their emotions that are cut off. When they finally ask Hawke they simply shrug and respond with

"Why do I care? Everyone leaves me or they want something from me only to stab me in the back, why should I care anymore?"

Just, just pure angst heartbreak something that will hurt I BEG FOR THE HURT JUICE!

WELCOME TO THE JUICE BAR! HERE THERE BE ANGST!

Varric: He gets it. For most of the time, amongst the odd band of friends he has made in the City of Chains, Varric puts on a very convincing show as the devil may care rogue with the world at his fingers and no weight on his shoulders.

But on the nights when he is not walking through Darktown killing...well, anyone who crossed their path really, it was hard to maintain the mask. When the last drunken drunken warbler had left or past out or otherwise left the Hang Man silent in the wee hours even his tavern rooms couldn't keep the echoes at bay. Brother, father, mother, ancestral culture and society; all of it gone before he was even respectably middle age. He'd lost Orzammar before his first breathe, and no matter how in the Merchant Guild he climbed no surfacer would ever be anything less than a casteless outcast.

Normally that didn't bother him, but on the heaviest nights...He can't bring back everything Hawke lost, and isn't fool enough to try. But he can be a friend, a port in the storm. Once Hawke's mindset is known Kirkwall's resident story teller makes it his mission to be a constant bulwark for his friend. He has let them flounder for too long-- dwarves might not be great at swimming, but Varric will not let Hawke drown.

Bethany: It takes a long time for her own bitterness, at a life of endless hunger and exhaustion and nightmares of a Grey Warden that she would never have chosen for herself, to fade enough for her sibling's silence to truly register. Their mother's death had been a terrible blow, a severing of the last parental bond, but it had also heralded a silence from Kirkwall that...

Well, that she had come to take for granted. Varric still wrote like clockwork, his letters a comforting and humorous glance into the city that had been home so briefly, but after more than a year the remaining Hawke sibling looks up to realize she has had not a word in months. Her last letter was so bitter, penned in grief and anger and without thought for the child who actually had to see and bury Leandra, but now those caustic words eat at her own mind.

Distance has bled off the pain, and the missive that goes to the City of Chains is almost meek in comparison to her fiery words. But the letter she receives makes silence preferable-- she can feel her sibling's desolate apathy through the short penned lines, and for once she aches for the cramped paradise of Gamlen's hovel when their family was mostly whole.

They do not write again, and in her shame and sorrow she does not ask them to. A Grey Warden is meant to leave all their former life behind, and yet somehow her older sibling has managed to cut loose of those bonds-- and Bethany finds herself clinging to a life that she cannot save.

Anders: Justice roils, unsettled and uneasy at the terrible symmetry. There is no sunburst scar to mark the sundering of mind and fade, no judgement rendered to murder life and emotion, and yet tranquility would almost be preferable to the empty aching sorrow. Hawke had always been a vibrant soul, built for purpose and life and determined to make their way in the world no matter the cost. But this...

There had been a time when Anders had been that alone. The loss of friends, of family, of the chance to have a life of his own. Even the freedom of the circles had still left him chained to another institution, no matter how preferable the Grey Wardens might have been. Isolation was a like an unhealing wound, pulling at the body and soul until there was nothing left to fight it. A sepsis of the soul, where no surgeon's blade could cut it free.

There had been no true isolation since Justice had come to him; it feels like a betrayal to admit he missed it.

And oh Anders wants to comfort his friend, tries to be there and sets aside (as much as his fracturing mental state will allow) the conversation of mages rights for other conversation. Brings food and wine and tries to rekindle that spark that had always been in Hawke's soul.

But his plans for the Chantry -and the looming betrayal that must carve them apart once again- keeps a pall of guilt over those efforts. It seems crueler somehow -infinitely more so if they are in a romantic relationshiip-to build up only to destroy, and so knowing he cannot help one of his first true friends in the city is another burden to lay against the cost of mage freedom on the scales of Justice.

Isabela: At first she brushes it off as a bad day, nothing that a trip to the Hanged Man and the Blooming Rose can't clear right up. She's had a few of her own, after all, and knows the liberal application of lover and libation to be a perfect solution for gloomy moods. Friend or lover, she knows how to raise the spirits.

But when that doesn't work, when her efforts are shot down again and again in that same terrible, dry tone, something distant and awful howls in the back of her mind. As the captain of a ship she is good at watching for storms and reefs, for the dangerous shoals that can render a ship little more than kindling or the hurricanes that turn even the greatest ports into unsafe harbors. There are no maps to nagivate here, no sounding charts or sextant readings to guide her to calmer waters.

She has looked death and danger in the eye with laughter and a ready blade, but the dull and distant apathy in her friends eyes shakes her like no nautical challenge ever has. They tetter on the crest of a wave, and for all that she might scramble for control the trough might be too much for them to weather. Emotions have never been her strong suite, commitment not in her wheelhouse. Isabela is shallow and vain by her own admission, made for the life at sea and not meant to drop anchor forever.

But when she takes a heading, she takes it true. It will be work, work the captain is not at all sure she is capable of, but in all her long life Isabela has never abandoned a crew member gone overboard. And even if Hawke is determined to struggle against joy and life and recovery, she will not let them drown.

Aveline: It is so, so tempting to lay pain for pain. To compare the loss of home and husband and life against the inevitable (if untimely) loss of parent, the grief of lost siblings and broken friendships to the struggle of proving herself to the guard. Who are they cut themselves off from those who love them, when no one is untouched by loss?

But the simple and terrible truth is that pain is a terrible equalizer, and lays low all who come before it. Aveline has fought for her position as a guardsman, and then guard captain, and is proud of her duty. But she is also too well aware that the burdens laid at her desk are nothing like that of a Champion of a city, and that Kirkwall has for years asked far more of Hawke than it has given in return. Her friend has never waivered, never failed in their devotion to a city that never stops taking.

Her own rise in station comes of both her work and theirs, and with a pang Aveline is suddenly unsure if she has ever let Hawke know how deeply grateful she has been for their friendship-- from that first day in Ferelden onward.

It is not in her nature to look back and regret on mistakes that cannot be fixed, or dwell too much on old sorrows. With Donnell's help she can only move forward as a better friend, a better companion. To make sure Hawke knows without question that they are loved, and to guard them and their future as she does the city they will build it in.

Fenris: Everything he touches, it seems, must be laid low.

There is no question that his social skills lack a certain...polish, nor that on the whole Fenris and society are mostly estranged. He in content to live in his decaying mansion, to make a life devoid of company when not traipsing through Kirkwall with a ragtag bunch of friends. He does not seek out company often, is not comfortable with the idea of the vulnerability that friendship requires with more than a handful of people.

It does not occur to him until Hawke's empty and apathetic words that those actions and attitudes might hurt more than himself. Hawke has been a better friend and compatriot than Fenris ever dared to hope for, certainly better than he had the right to ask for, but his actions have not been equal to that friendship. He has let them suffer alone, or at least mostly unsupported, and that is...

It hurts like the Fog Warriors hurt, needless betrayal when something better might have been.

There is a cold blessing in the memories of a life enslaved being ripped away by the lyrium, even if the experiences after were hardly kindness itself. But Hawke must live with it all, the pain and betrayal and the crushing isolation that comes with duty. Fenris has chosen to be alone, at least, in his self imposed solitude.

Hawke has no one.

It is a bitter vintage of guilt, particularly for a romanced Fenris who has done more than most to cause such pain. But he has not come so far in life without being tenacious, and commitment to a goal is keen to success. If he must finally leave the mansion behind, to spend everyday with his friend until that sorrow is as distant as his life in Tevinter, than it is a sacrifice worth making.

He will bring the good wine--it stands up well to despair.

Carver: There is a sort of inherent loss of self, when you have a twin. For all that Bethany and he had been different people, it is at times unavoidable that you be lumped together by even your family. It is rarely malicious but often very annoying, and was in some ways the catalyst for how much he envied his older sibling's singular triumphs and failures. There was no one to share that spotlight with, and it burned at something deep within Carver's soul.

The bitter grief that came when Bethany was gone, gone and leaving him with no one to lock step with, did not lend itself to mending the hard feelings for his older sibling. While not so cruel as Leandra to lay blame at the eldest Hawke child for his sister's death, her absence creates a void that neither can ever truly fill.

Time heals some wounds, of course, but distance and duty can cauterize what has not yet healed. Leaving his life behind to take the oath of a Grey Warden is perhaps the most freeing thing he has ever done, and if it is easier than most to carve away his past life...he is well named for it. That is not to say that the news of his mothers death does not pain him, but his new brothers and sisters a balm in a way family has not been in the past.

It is cold comfort when Varric's letter, with the uncertain request to write to his sibling in an attempt to ease their pain, makes them uncomfortably aware that years have passed without correspondence. Somewhere between the Deep Roads and his duties the oldest Hawke sibling ceased to be a daily thought for him, and Carver is ashamed to realize that he was relieved when the letters stopped. He does write a few stilted lines, unsurprised to receive no reply, and tells himself he can do no more.

If his father's face haunts his dreams with imagined disappointment and grief for months after, let that be penance enough.

Merrill: If Clan Sabrae still lives she will find it difficult to relate, but if Keeper Marethari's actions have cost her so much more than Merrill is painfully aware of the pain of total isolation. Hawke does not even have the eluvian to compensate their struggles, and for a time the Dalish mage is unsure how to help.

So she simply listens. Even if it is apathetic silence, or quiet sorrow, or even howling rage, Merrill stays. Her friend has never abandoned her, not in all the time she has known Hawke. Their life has been a bitter one, with duty and grief and helpless loss too mich a companion. Nothing she can do will fix the past, but she can prove to them with the consistency and patience of her presence that they are not alone.

The introduction of baked goods to that listening and support is also, in her experience and delight, a helpful tool. Among the Dalish shared food is the foundation of family and community, and in time she will use it to bring hope back to her friend.

Creators, let her succeed.

-Mod Fereldone

#dragon age 2 #merrill #aveline #hawke #carver hawke #bethany hawke #fenris #anders #isabela #angst

[mistycrunch]

Younger twins au with Bethany and Carver surviving together.

More below

#bonus is now hawke has to hide bethanys new powers in kirkwall #maybe even rely on anders to teach her #so much potential angst with baby bethany in kirkwall #younger twins au #anders #fenris #varric #bethany #carver #merrill #da2 #my art #dragon age #oh and their shoes are so big in the first pic bc their hand-me-downs from hawke #too expensive to buy new shoes for each twin all the time

[sulky-valkyrie]

Val! Can I get "there’s nothing you could have done." for Fenris/Anders?

You know it 💜 Honorable mention to @shardsof-stars because she'd requested a wee bit of Fenders on the run after the boom, and these two ideas ended up all tangled and muddied together and it doesn't quite use the dialogue and it doesn't quite have them on the run, but I'd like to think it fits the spirit (heh, Jsutice pun) of both thoughts

for @dadrunkwriting

Kirkwall was burning, and Meredith had gone mad.  Or maybe Meredith's madness was why Kirkwall was burning.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.  No, that wasn't right.  It hadn't been supposed to keep going after this.  No, that wasn't right either.  He wasn't supposed to keep going.  

Boom, Justice and I are free.

It was supposed to be a symbol, a spark to light the fires of the world, to force Thedas to confront its prejudices, and to remind mages they could fight back.  And fight back they had, but Anders had never expected it like this.  A summary execution should’ve been his fate, or a show trial and a chance for him to make his case for the end of the Circles before being sentenced to death.

He hadn't accounted for Meredith's paranoia.  Well, he hadn't accounted for it enough.  Or her hatred.  Bloody knickerweasels, he'd confessed to her damn face, and she'd still blamed the whole of the Gallows and called for an Annulment.

Granted, he might still die today.  Orsino had nearly turned himself into a fucking abomination in a futile act of defiance and despair.  He shuddered.  If not for Merrill and her own demon, things would've been so much worse.  And it was bad enough already.

Meredith's sword sang with an oily discordant wrongness, jangling at his nerves and setting Justice on edge as she cut down her own people.  Even half an hour ago, the sight of Templars losing their guts and screaming would’ve given him grim satisfaction, but now, it was simply grim.  They fought against her as fiercely as they'd fought with her, and died just as easily.

He threw every spell he could, even healing fucking Cullen when the statues came to life and one batted him across the courtyard, but it still wasn't enough.  Over a dozen people stood against her, but they were starting to tire, and Meredith seemed unstoppable.  At least the rest of the Gallows mages made it out through the tunnels.

A whistle caught his attention, bright and piercing as it cut through the clatter of battle.  A whistle that sounded like -

"Ancestors balls, we can't leave you alone for one minute, can we?"

He glanced down and smiled, even as his heart clenched in fear.  "Siggy, babe, you're in the wrong place."

"Nah, we've been tracking that shit –" she waved a dagger toward Meredith "– for years. Good job making her show it."

"Is that what I did?" Anders asked sarcastically.  "Jolly good for me then."

A volley of fiery boulders rained down from the sky, battering Meredith to the ground. Velanna's work, no doubt.  

The new threat was apparently enough to send Meredith over the edge.  She looked as deranged as a blood mage as she climbed to her feet and shouted, “I will not be defeated!”

As she thrust her sword in the air, the horrible jangling feeling ramped up, like it was trying to crush his skull and burst it open from the inside at the same time, Sigrun winced and gritted her teeth. Interesting.  He'd assumed it had something to do with being a mage, or Justice's sensitivity to lyrium, but Sigrun was neither mage nor possessed.  

Interesting, but a question for a later time.  Even if he’d had the time to think about it, the pressure on his mind made everything blank with pain, as bad as what he remembered of the Joining, and when he started to worry that it might actually kill him, the damn sword exploded.

Shards of red lyrium flew out, but, for once, Templars actually came in handy.  What they didn’t block with their shields they blocked with their bodies, however unintentionally, leaving Hawke and the rest of Anders’ former-comrades unscathed.  At least they’ll be alive to hate me.

"Come on, we need to get you out of here."  Sigrun's hand caught his and she started to pull him away.  

Not how any of this was supposed to happen.  He resisted on reflex, but she was a Warden too, and built like bronto.  A small one, but a bronto nonetheless, full of densely packed muscle and maddening persistence.  

"Mage!"  Suddenly Fenris was there, tearing him from Sigrun's grasp and snarling, "You won't take him!"

His vehemence was a shock.  Fenris had barely spoken two sentences to him since the Chantry had exploded, but here he was, defending him again. Fruitlessly.  Anders had always known death would be the only escape from the Wardens.  "Fenris, there's nothing you can do," he sighed.

"Venhedis!”  He put his arm across Anders’ chest and glared at Sigrun.  “You won’t take him,” he repeated.

Sigrun held up her hands, not quite in surrender, but an obvious gesture of goodwill and grinned.  “Stones, Anders, you’ve been making friends again, haven’t you?”

“Er… in a way?”  He pushed Fenris’ arm down gently.  “What do you want with me?”

Before she could answer the paving stones shattered as a tangled mass of roots forced its way up next to her and Velanna stepped out, face pinched in even more irritation than usual.  “What are you standing around for, let’s go!”

Fenris reached for his sword.  “He goes nowhere he doesn’t wish to.”

“Oh for the Maker’s sake, Fenris, please,” Anders said before turning back to Velanna.  “Where are we going?”

She rolled her eyes.  “Where do you think?  The Chantry will be baying for your blood any moment now!  You know as well as I do that the Deep Roads are the safest place for you.”

He shuddered at the suggestion, but couldn’t find a fault in her logic.  I should’ve planned for this better.  He glanced back at Hawke, still arguing with Varric.  Probably about him.  He inhaled slowly and rubbed at his face.  “Let’s go.”

Sigrun and Velanna nodded, then headed toward the docks.  As Anders moved to follow them, Fenris fell in step behind him.  “You may be a fool, but you're my fool.”  His voice was soft, but challenging.  Daring Anders to argue with him, just like old times, yet nothing like them at all.

Debate wouldn’t solve this.  He was a fool.  Foolish to believe Meredith would blame the right man.

“I’m sorry.”  Once the apology fell from his mouth, the words wouldn’t stop, a rush of everything he’d wanted to say since he’d started planning this.  “I should’ve - I’m not sorry I did it, but I wish it hadn’t come to it, and I’m sorry she made it worse, but there was nothing you could’ve done.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, or Hawke - sorry that I used you, that I lied about –”

Fenris pushed him to the wall and cupped his chin.  “Hush, mage.  You think there was nothing I could’ve done?  You asked for explosives: saltpeter and flammable stone.  You asked for help distracting the Grand Cleric.  Nothing I could’ve done?”  He kissed him softly.  “Anders, I did everything, not nothing, and I’m not leaving you for this or anything else, and there’s nothing you can do about that.”

#da drunk writing circle #prompt fills #anders #fenris #fenders #post chantry boom #chantry boom #light angst

[barbex]

HAPPY FRIDAY!! "The empty space that can’t be breached between you in bed" from the sensory prompts, for any characters you like!

Happy @dadrunkwriting and thank you for this prompt.

It turned into a little angsty weird, some kind of pre-and-missed-fenders ficlet.

---

Fenris can't sleep. At least not yet. Maybe later, when the first morning light crawls over the horizon, gently pushing the darkness of night away, maybe then he can sleep. That's when Anders will leave the tent to take up the watch. He always takes that one, something about being used to getting up early, and about picking herbs and such. The dew of the morning moistening the leaves, so that they keep better for the trek back to the drying racks in Anders' clinic. 

At least that's what Anders told Isabela once, when she asked about his early morning habit. He pretended not to listen. Anders would never have answered his questions, not like he answers Isabela's questions. Not with that smile and that twinkling in his eyes, and not with the joke about putting leaves in your smalls to make yourself smell better. 

Anders doesn't talk to him anymore. After so many fights, so many vicious words, he just stopped. Stopped altogether. No words about mages, about the Gallows, about freedom for him and all mages. Fenris isn't sure what to make of it, at first it was a relief to not hear his complaints anymore, but now it feels like something is missing. Something that made Anders who he is, is gone. Instead, another version of Anders walks with them, quiet, serious, friendly. Friendly like the head slaves used to be, polite, carefully projecting being contend and calm. 

Fenris looks at Anders' back next to him. The mage sleeps fitfully, twitching, sometimes even making a sound. He cries out and sits up, wide eyes staring into nothing. "No, sorry," he says, but his voice is still laden with the weight of the nightmare. 

"It was just a dream," Fenris says. 

Anders' head whips around and he frowns at him.

"You are safe here." 

Even in the dim light of the tent, Fenris can see the mask settling back on Anders' face. Contend. Friendly. Polite.

"Of course." Anders lies back down, folding his hands on his chest.

"Why are you like this?" He had not meant to ask the question but now it is out.

Anders slowly turns his head to look at him. "Like what?"

"Cold. Quiet." He doesn't know how to explain how eerie it is to see Anders like this. "I know you were passionate and now... why are you hiding everything?"

Equally slowly, Anders looks back to the roof of their tent, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on his chest. "I thought you would be happy about that. You always said you didn't want to hear my yammering."

"But now you don't say anything anymore."

"Yes." Anders' voice has lost all its softness. "I don't say anything. It's better this way."

"Why?"

Faster than his eyes can grasp it, Anders is up and leans right into him, his breath in his face. Fear tightens his throat, as if Anders had his hand around his throat. But he is not touching him. That is even worse.

"You don't want to hear what I think." A mad smile draws at Anders' lips. "None of you do. Be glad you don't hear what I think." 

He is out of the tent before Fenris can take a breath. His heart beats too fast. Like he is drawn from an invisible force, he crawls out of the tent, grabbing his sword. There, tall in the moonlight, he sees Anders stand at the edge of their camp. He doesn't hide his steps, and the way Anders glances over his shoulder shows him that the mage is aware of his approach.

"Tell me," Fenris says. "Tell me what you are not saying."

The mask slips, for the first time in weeks an actual emotion shows on Anders' face. He recognizes it. Pain. Grief. "Tell me."

Anders lets out a breath. "It has to end. The suffering. It has to end, soon."

"Tell me."

Finally, Anders looks at him, smiling gently. "No. You should not know." Without another word, he walks into the darkness.

Fenris watches him, fighting the feeling that he missed something important.

#dadrunkwriting #some angst #pre and missed fenders #fenders #Fenris #Anders #fenders fic #Fenris x Anders #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #my writing

[lavenderdreams22]

Impossible - Fenrys x Reader

Request: Omg! The fic with Fenrys is so good! Can you write another one? Like they have an argument?

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for, anon! There really aren’t any warnings… maybe some OOC moments for some characters, some suggestive themes? I haven’t finished Kingdom of Ash yet, so if some details are wrong, sorry!! Also, very quickly edited.

*****

The beach. You had always loved the beach. But today, the sight of the waves crashing against the shore brought a sour taste to your mouth.

Fenrys had been gone for about a week on a mission assigned to him by Aelin. You were glad that he had been given something to do. He was becoming restless, and you feared that he may tear the walls of your shared home apart if he was left to his own devices for much longer.

No, him leaving wasn’t what had made you so upset with him… It was his return. He had gone directly to Aelin to give his report, which was to be expected, but then he had disappeared. You had searched for him, hoping to say hello and spend a few moments with him before you, yourself, had to leave for a week.

The beach was the last place you could think of to check, and he wasn’t here.

You threw your arms up as a particularly nasty wave crashed against the distant rocks. Even the North Sea seemed to be taunting you.

Turning on your heel, you stomped back towards your horse.

“Fine…” you mumbled to yourself. “If he doesn’t want to see me, then he won’t.”

*****

You found Elide waiting with Lorcan and the wagon that the three of you would be taking on your travels.

“Surprised lover boy isn’t joining you.” Lorcan spoke, drawing you from your thoughts.

“No idea where he is.” You shrugged, climbing in and turning to offer Elide your hand. “Let’s go before we lose anymore daylight.”

“You don’t want to say goodbye?” Elide asked, accepting the hand you offered to help her up.

“He didn’t bother saying hello.” You shrugged. “So, he doesn’t get a goodbye.”

Lorcan snorted and rounded the wagon to take his own seat. The two of you got settled as he took over the reigns. With a nod from Elide, the three of you were off.

“Are you okay?” Elide asked, patting your knee.

“I have never been better.” You plastered a fake grin on your lips that you hoped was convincing.

The look she shot you said that it was exactly the opposite.

*****

Dorian’s castle hadn’t changed since the last time you had been here. Chaol greeted you at the door, a warm smile on his lips as he pulled you into a hug. You searched around for Yrene, but he shook his head.

“She’s tending to the baby.” Chaol could barely contain his excitement.

“I will have to visit before we leave.” You said into his shoulder.

“Yes, you will. Yrene will have your head if you don’t.” He released you and you nodded. “Dorian is in the throne room.”

You patted his shoulder in thanks as you passed.

The greetings shared between the other two and Chaol were muffled as you rounded the corner. The double doors that led to the throne room had been left wide open, and Dorian sat atop his throne, examining his nails.

You cleared your throat as you entered, and his head snapped up. The grin that pulled at his lips was contagious, and, before you could stop it, you were grinning back.

“Hello, Y/N.” He strode to you in a few steps and pulled you into a bone crushing hug.

“Hello, your majesty.” You made to bow, but he laughed, pulling you back up by the arm.

“Seems we have much to discuss, old friend.” Dorian gestured towards the door behind you. “Shall we?”

*****

The time spent with Dorian was short lived, and you found yourself dreading the ride home.

You knew once you arrived in Terrasen, Fenrys would be there. He would demand why you hadn’t said goodbye, and there would surely be an argument.

“You seemed pretty sure of your decision to leave without saying goodbye a week ago.” Lorcan said, snapping the reigns.

The horses moved with a jolt, and you reached out an arm to steady Elide. You weren’t sure how Lorcan always seemed to know what you were thinking.

“I was.” You responded, “but now I’m not so sure it was the right choice.”

*****

Dawn had just broken when the three of you arrived. The wheels and hooves seemed to echo in the quiet streets of Terrasen, and you groaned.

“Can’t we just walk the rest of the way? We’re surely waking up every living thing from here to Eyllwe.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What do you suggest I do? Leave the horses in the middle of town?” Lorcan snapped.

You rolled your eyes, and Elide giggled at the two of you. You and Lorcan always fought, though neither of you wished bad on the other.

“We will be there soon.” She said with a shake of her head. “Then you two can get a good nights rest.”

You knew he’d hear you, that he had been waiting for the sound of hooves on stone. You could practically feel his anger down your mating bond. With a shudder, you wrapped your arms around yourself.

*****

You had been right, not that you had doubted yourself. As you pulled into the gates of Aelin’s home, you caught glimpse of a white wolf sitting in the courtyard. Your heart dropped at the sight of him.

Elise reached over, giving your leg a quick squeeze and Lorcan brought the wagon to a stop.

“Good luck, Y/N.” Elide said as she stood. “Looks like you’re going to need it.” She glanced over your shoulder and you didn’t need to turn around to know who she was looking at.

Lorcan helped Elide onto the ground, and the two of them made quick work of getting inside.

You huffed out a breath, trying to reign in your heartbeat. Fenrys was glaring holes through the back of your head.

“A simple ‘welcome home’ would suffice.” You said, finally standing and climbing out of the wagon. He was at your side in seconds.

“A simple ‘goodbye’ would have been better.” He growled, helping you to the ground.

The second your feet touched stone, you pulled out of his grasp. Hurt flashed in his eyes before he trained his face into something impassive.

“Would have said goodbye if I had been able to find you.” You mumbled.

He took a step towards you, but you stepped away from him again.

“I didn’t even know you were leaving. I had to find out from Aedion. Aelin wouldn’t even tell me where you went off to.”

“Aelin has some sense, then.” You rolled your eyes before setting off towards you home.

“Did you have fun with Dorian?” He spat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah. Loads of fun.” You pushed past him to start the short journey to your home. “Really wore me out.”

He let out a low growl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Fenrys had an awful jealous streak, and for a moment, you felt guilty at the implication that you had made. But you steeled your nerves before you turned back to him.

“Where were you?” You couldn’t keep your voice from cracking.

He only stared at you, his brows furrowed.

“I looked everywhere. I even went to the beach.” You shook your head.

“You obviously didn’t look hard enough.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his response. You and Fenrys never fought. It was rare that the two of you even got mad at each other. As passionate and intense as you both were, you were also soft and gentle with each other. Your tempers were normally reserved for other people or training.

“I’m going to bed.” You turned on your heel again, “find somewhere else to stay for a few days.”

He didn’t follow, and you struggled to keep the tears from falling as you ran the rest of the way home.

*****

It had been five days. Five days for you to think, think again and then over think the interaction that got you to this point.

You knew you had been too sensitive, and that you had overreacted, but your pride wouldn’t let you admit it to Fenrys. Even if he was gazing at you across the training ring with regret and longing.

As upset as he had been, he had honored your wishes for him to stay away for awhile. You had run into each other a few times in the past few days, and you had a hunch that Aelin and Rowan were doing all they could to force the two of you into the same room.

“Y/N, Fenrys.” Aedion called out, “Aelin would like an audience with you.”

You nodded, setting the wooden sword you had been practicing with to the side and nodding at Gavriel. He offered a small smile and turned to Lorcan to continue his training.

Fenrys hesitated for a moment, his eyes never leaving your retreating form as you crossed the room towards Aedion.

“Are you coming?” You asked, stopping by the door, finally meeting his gaze over your shoulder.

“Oh.” He scrambled to catch up with you. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

*****

When you got to the throne room, the two of you stopped as he knocked.

“Do you have any idea what she wants?” You asked, leaning a shoulder against the wall as you waited for permission to enter.

“No idea.” He shook his head.

“Hmm.” Was your only response.

You examined him. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t been sleeping. The thought of his restless nights tugged at your heart, but you quickly shook the thought from your mind. You were mad at him, you reminded yourself.

“How are you?” He asked, avoiding your eyes.

“I’m great. You?”

He cleared his throat, and you knew him well enough to know that he was struggling to form an answer that didn’t sound what he thought was absolutely pathetic. You hoped he would tell you he missed you.

He settled on, “I’ve been better.”

Before you could respond, Rowan opened the door, beckoning the two of you into the room.

“Hello, Rowan.” You greeted as you stepped past him.

Aelin sat atop her throne, watching as the two of you with a blank expression. It made your hands sweat.

“Good morning.” She said, her queen voice coming out in full force.

“Good morning, your majesty.” You said, and Fenrys bowed.

Aelin chuckled and motioned for you two to come closer.

“I have a task for the two of you.” Aelin started. “You leave as soon as you can pack a bag.”

You both froze. “What will we be doing?” He asked.

“There seems to be some unease near the mountains. Something about bandits attacking travelers. I need the two of you to take care of it.” Rowan nodded as he joined her, standing behind her throne.

“Just the two of us?” You asked.

“Will that be a problem?” Rowan asked, irritation lacing his voice.

“No, of course not.” You shook your head.

“We have a horse waiting in the stables for you,” Aelin said, “You’re free to go. I expect to hear that you’ve left within the next twenty minutes.”

You both nodded before turning to leave.

“I need to come by for some of my things.” He murmured.

“I expected as much.” You replied, shutting the door to the throne room behind you.

*****

An hour later, the two of you were atop the horse, and several miles from the city. The ride so far had been dreadfully quiet. Having him pressed up against you like this was making it harder to be angry with him.

You adjusted yourself in the saddle, and he chuckled behind you.

“You’re going to be in for a rough trip if you’re already uncomfortable.” He said, his breath fanning over the back of your neck.

“The saddle isn’t the problem.” You snapped back.

“I stand by my sentiment.” He tightened his hold on you.

“They only gave us one horse on purpose.” You pouted. You were aware you sounded like a child, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Most likely. They’re getting sick of having me in the castle.”

“You’ve been staying at the castle?”

“I have.” He cleared his throat, “not quite the same as our bed, but I suppose it could be worse.”

You nodded, leaning back into him ever so slightly. You missed the way his arms felt around you.

“All you have to do is ask me to come back.” He whispered.

“Maybe I don’t want you to come back.” You said, but he only chuckled. The sound rattled around in your head. 

“Your body says otherwise, my love.”

You shook your head, moving as far away from him as you could when you were sharing a saddle. “Knock it off. I’m still mad at you.”

*****

That evening, the two of you stopped to set up camp. The rest of the ride had been silent, and you were growing more and more agitated as time went on. He seemed perfectly content and happy to sit in silence, though, and that made you even more upset.

“Would you mind helping to set up camp? Or would you rather glare at me for the rest of the night?” He asked, his back still facing you.

You didn’t answer, and after a few heartbeats, he sighed.

“We should talk,” he said.

“Why? You seem perfectly happy acting as though nothing has happened.”

“Y/N…” he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Where were you?” You asked, “the day you came back… after you reported to Aelin. Where were you?”

“I was with Aedion. Ironically enough, he and Lysandra got into a spat, and he needed an ear and a shoulder.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know you were leaving until he asked me if I was going to say goodbye to you.”

“I looked everywhere for you.” You said.

“I was still in the castle.” He said, “and by the time I came to find you, you were gone.”

“I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.” You whispered.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t come find you sooner.” He said, taking a step closer to you.

“And I’m sorry for cursing your existence on our favorite beach.” You grinned at him as he belted out a laugh.

His laugh. It was like music to your ears. It was something that you missed dearly, and now you were so grateful that you got to hear it again. The brief chuckles on the horse were nothing compared to this.

“C’mere, my love.” He opened his arms.

You flung your arms around him and pressed a kiss to his lips. He pulled you as close as he could, and kissed you back.

When he pulled away, humor was dancing in his eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“But you love me anyway.” You replied, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“You’re right. I do love you anyway.” His answering grin made a blush creep to your cheeks.

“So...” you started, glancing once at his lips. “What should we do to make up for the last three weeks apart?”

“I can think of a few things.” He pressed another kiss to your lips.

You swore to yourself that you would never spend that much time away from him again.

#fenrys moonbeam x you #fenrys x you #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam #throne of glass fenrys #Fenrys moonbeam angst #throne of glass #kingdom of ash #fenrys x reader

[shadowdaddies]

I'm going to self project here, but can I request Fenrys beating the living sh*t out of reader's abuser? I need this... as self-care ngl

I'm not sure why I spent so long building the backstory for Reader but it was fun and I kind of want to write a series based on it now? Anywho, Fenrys does a little more than beat up the abuser👀 I got carried away oops

Hope Reborn

Fenrys Moonbeam x Reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, slavery, just very canon-typical trauma beware

During Adarlan’s conquest of Terrasen, you tried to escape to the Southern Continent with the man you had been in a relationship with, following his lead on a path he had charted for the both of you through the Perranth Mountains to head south.

It was outside the city of Perranth when Adarlan soldiers stopped you. Knowing that your attire immediately gave you away as Orynthian, you took your partner’s hand, ready to flee for your lives back into the forest. The pain of losing your home, your family, your culture, hadn’t broken you yet. But as the man you loved held out his hand for a couple coins, yanking you toward the soldiers’ waiting arms, you shattered. 

The one person you had left in this world, who you believed that you could trust, had sold you for a couple pieces of silver. He walked into the forest, never turning back. Never seeing the beatings, the unspeakable things the Adarlan soldiers did to you on the way to Endovier.

You became a slave in the salt mines, learning the language of Eyllwe from those imprisoned alongside you. One girl, a few years younger than you, was also from Terrasen. The two of you would talk and reminisce on the fields of pine trees and memories of Orynth. Her name was Celaena, and when she was taken from Endovier to the king’s castle, you weren’t sure that you could handle losing one more person in your life.

Months passed as you labored away in the salt mines, reflecting on the family and friends you’d lost, and the man who betrayed you. As you dared a look around the dirt yard, eyeing the guards as they taunted the other slaves with their whips, you became resolute in your plan for vengeance - against your former lover, against the guards, against the king.

So when you woke up that fateful morning to see the riots had begun, you grabbed your pick axe, cutting down any guard who dared to stand in your way as you ran for your freedom. You were one of the few who survived the riot, but at this point you were a shell of the human being you once were. You didn’t know light or love. You only knew survival. 

Learning your lesson from before, you stole drying clothing from a nearby village and began your journey southeast towards Rifthold. You found a life in the city as a barmaid in a tavern while you slept in an abandoned apartment, biding your time while you created a plan.

The perfect opportunity fell into your lap one rainy night, that you had no idea would change your life forever. You were leaving the tavern after a long shift, your cloak tugged over your head moreso to avoid any men approaching you than to keep your hair dry. 

A woman running down the street caught your eye, and you stopped to watch as she leapt into the arms of a man. Her own hood fell down, revealing reddish-blonde hair as the couple embraced for a long moment. You were about to turn away, eager to escape the rain when the woman turned, locking eyes with you.

A choked sob escaped you as you recognized her. Tanner, healthier, happy - but you would know those distinct golden-turquoise eyes anywhere. She must have recognized you too, for Celaena bolted towards you, pulling you in as you were hugged for the first time in years.

“How are you here?” she said through tears, glancing over her shoulder as three other people slowly approached behind her. 

You smiled, sniffling as you wiped happy tears from your eyes. “I got out during the uprising. How are you here?”

Celaena looked towards her friends, giving a slight nod to the two males in particular before turning back to you. “Will you come with me?”

That small piece of hope inside of you sparked at her offer, and you found yourself nodding, letting yourself be led into yet another unknown. You followed the group up to an apartment, where Celaena sat you down and explained who she really was.

Your world tilted on its axis as you were filled with more hope than you had since the conquest of Terrasen, immediately swearing allegiance to Aelin, your queen. You traveled with her group to Skull’s Bay, finding your purpose in preparing Terrasen for war against Erawan, and to reestablish your home.

It was in Skull’s Bay that you met Fenrys, the most beautiful male you had ever seen. You formed an instant connection, drawn to his jovial nature. He was incessantly kind and positive despite everything that he had been through, the perfect balance and glimmer of light that you had been searching for your entire life. 

And yet, all good things seem to be ripped from you. Fenrys and Aelin were taken from you, leaving a hole in your heart that could never be filled, never be rebuilt. If not for Rowan’s determination, his drive to find his wife, you might have been broken completely. But your new family gave you the strength you needed to find Aelin and Fenrys. 

As a human, you didn’t know if you were capable of having a bond, but what you felt for Fenrys - how you swore you could feel his pain, how he missed you while he was with Maeve - was as close to a bond as you could imagine. It wasn’t a spark of hope that flared in your chest when you reunited with Fenrys when he escaped Maeve, it was an eternal flame. You knew that you would marry this male one day.

When that day came, and you stood beside your husband as part of Queen Aelin’s Court in front of all of Terrasen, the last person you expected to see what the man you once loved. The man who sold you into slavery, standing to the side with the rest of the courtiers.

Rage filled you, at him, at Adarlan, at yourself, at the world for allowing a man so vile to not only survive, but seemingly thrive. You hadn’t realized how much your grip on Fenrys’s hand had tightened until your husband winced - but instead of pulling away, he lifted your hand to his lips. 

Pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, Fenrys’s onyx eyes found yours, drawing you from those dark thoughts. “What is it, my love?” he asked, voice so soft you could melt into it.

You swallowed thickly, forbidding yourself from giving that spineless excuse for a man another look. Taking a deep breath, you pulled Fenrys in for a hug as you murmured your confession into his shirt. “You know my first love? Who sold me to Endovier? He’s here. In the blue jacket.”

Fenrys stiffened under your touch, fae instincts taking over as a low growl formed in his throat. You swore you felt the temperature in the room rise as your husband honed in on the man like a predator. 

“What do you want me to do?” he whispered, voice lethally quiet as he held you close.

Looking up, you couldn’t help the genuine smile that brightened your features as you savored the feeling of this male, who you knew would do anything for you. This male who gave you the love you never dreamed was possible. 

“I don’t want you to do anything. I have everything I need, and more,” you whispered back, standing up on your toes to pull him in for a kiss. 

Fenrys gave you a wolfish grin, seemingly satisfied with your answer before he dared to look back into the crowd. His gaze flicked to where Rowan stood on the dais, the two in silent communication, before Rowan declared court dismissed. 

“I have some matters to take care of with Rowan, and I will be back shortly. Alright, my love?” Fenrys questioned, a kiss to your temple before you nodded, heading back to the sitting room where Aelin and Lysandra shortly joined you.

Time passed as you relaxed, enjoying chocolates and discussing books with your friends when Rowan stumbled through the door, Fenrys behind him. The two males had blood staining their shirts, busted knuckles quickly healing as they noticed your concerned expression. 

Clearing his throat, Fenrys brushed his blonde hair from his face as he strode towards you in an attempt at acting nonchalant. 

“Fen, love, what did you do?” you drawled, arching an assessing brow as you sipped your tea. 

“Nothing. Rowan and I had some matters to attend to, as I said,” he shrugged, reaching for a chocolate from the table in front of you. Understanding dawned, and you gasped.

Reaching for his bloodied hand, you pulled it towards you as you examined the wounds. “Fenrys Moonbeam! You did not hit that man, did you? I don’t need to worry about him anymore, love.”

Rowan snorted from where he lounged on the arm of Aelin’s chair. “He didn’t just hit him,” Rowan paused, green eyes focusing on you with sincerity. “And trust me, you will not have to worry about him ever again.”

Alarmed, you glanced to Lysandra in disbelief, your friend shaking her head as she lifted a chocolate to her mouth. “I wouldn’t ask them to elaborate if I were you,” she muttered, popping the dessert with a satisfied moan.

Rubbing your temples, you stood, wrapping Fenrys’s arms around you as you buried your head against his warm, toned chest. 

“Are you mad?” he whispered.

With a deep sigh, you looked up, brushing back his blonde curls behind his ear as you admired his glittering black eyes, all anxiety leaving your body. “Officially speaking, I don’t condone your actions. But I love you, and whatever I did in some past life to deserve someone like you...” You trailed off, drawing the back of your hand down his cheek. “Thank you for giving me hope, Fenrys Moonbeam.”

#throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass x reader #fenrys throne of glass #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader #fenrys tog #throne of glass fenrys #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass x you #throne of glass x reader angst #throne of glass angst #throne of glass fluff #tog imagine #tog x reader #tog x you #fenrys fluff

[faitherinhicks]

Angsty Dragon Age 2 comic part 1, starring Fenris and Hawke. Part 2 will go up tomorrow. >>>> Okay, so I romanced Fenris during my first DA2 playthrough as a female warrior Hawke. Unfortunately because I was pro mage and anti slaver (because I'm not a monster), I couldn't swing his approval or rivalry one way or the other, so when the final confrontation in the Gallows occurred, I couldn't convince him to join me to help the mages. It was super tragic! I'm still crying over it. These freaking Bioware games have destroyed my life, lol.

#bioware #dragon age #dragon age 2 #dragon age II #hawke #fenris #angst #romance #comics #fan comics #videogames

[throneofsapphics]

between the heavens and the embers

Fenyrs x f!Reader

Summary: Day 4, “She will die, thinking you never loved her.” With Fenrys

Warnings: terminal illness, discussions of death/death, angst 

kinktober masterlist

Of course Aelin had kept in contact with her, he thought bitterly. Or at least caught wind of what was happening through the city's gossip. After their split, he went through extensive efforts to avoid anywhere she frequented. Nowhere felt safe, and he’d begged Aelin to send him abroad again. 

Y/n, dying, the one he could never quite ‘get over’ as they’d all say. The rest of their court had passed years ago, and he found solace in her shortly after. Still, he left. Maybe it was fear, at the time he thought his own immortality would be a blessing - giving him plenty of time to move on or to find someone new.

“It’s .. it’s nothing about you.” 

“You told me forever,” tears streamed down her face and he hated himself for a moment, hated himself for giving her that kind of hope. 

“I shouldn’t have said that.” He replied tightly, forcing any emotion out of his voice - a neutral mask, perfected over the centuries, slid over his features. 

“Gods” She scoffed, fingers tugging at her hair. He gripped the fabric of his pants, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her hands away, to take them into his own. “Was all of this a lie? All of the times you told me you loved me?” 

He winced at the pure resentment in his voice, a crack appearing in his mask. Still, he was protecting her from the reality of growing old while he would stay young. “I spoke without thinking.” He was digging himself a greater hole, going past the point of return. 

“Leave.” Her voice was cold. “I don’t want to see you again.” He gave her a short nod and turned. He allowed himself to glance back once, but she’d already disappeared inside. 

-

Fenrys debated turning around at least twenty times during the walk to her house, on the outskirts of Orynth. Enough that he shifted and trotted through the trees lining the road - it would do no good to scare the living daylights out of anyone walking by. Things were simpler in his animal form, although the desire to flee was still there, it wasn’t quite as strong. She still lived in the same place as a decade ago. He steeled himself, trying to summon all of his courage as he made it. For Gods sake, he’s charged onto battlefields, fought enemies he was certain he’d lose against, faced the drudgery of foreign courts; this shouldn’t be this difficult. Finally, he arrived at her house. The yard was littered with people he recognized - her family, and he stopped outside the fence. Based on the wicked glares he was receiving, they recognized exactly who he was. 

He didn’t call out or ask, only waited to see what they would do. Even if he wanted to say something, he couldn’t be certain his voice wouldn’t break. A woman disappeared inside and he heard muttered voices, angry rebukes, and then the calm melody of hers - sounding the exact same as she did a decade ago, down to each inflection and pause.

The door swung open and he held his breath. She exited and ushered everyone else back inside, ignoring and shutting down their protests. Curious faces, young and old, peered through the curtains.

She walked with ease for someone dying of a terminal illness, and paused a foot away from him, on the other side of the fence. 

He stood outside of the fence waiting for her, on time for once. He’d promised to take her on a date and held a small bunch of her favorite wildflowers flowers in his hand, ones he’d picked on his way here. She bounded outside with a smile on her face, closing the door behind her. 

“You showed up,” she grinned and almost ran the rest of the way. 

“Did you doubt me?” He teased 

“Is there something you need?” The words were polite, but indifferent and a strained smile was pasted on her face. Mentally he ran through all of the different ways he’d tried to justify his actions fifty years ago. 

“I’m sorry.” 

She raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes. “And?” 

-

She didn’t believe it until she saw the male standing there, on the other side of her fence, just like he had ten years ago. Y/n tried to tamper down the bitterness and resentment, to ‘let it go,’ as everyone told her she should’ve years ago. Still, he’d left with no idea she was pregnant, and any letters she tried to send him were never answered and likely never opened or delivered. There wasn’t a chance or a way to actually tell him, and she debated whether or not to tell him now. Somehow, he’d never caught wind of it and her kids stayed back far enough he couldn’t catch wind of their scents. 

“I regret … my actions.” 

She blinked once, trying to clear her vision and make sure this was real and not some figment of her imagination. 

“Thank you?” Her voice trailed up at the end, uncertain if that’s actually a proper reply or not. Gods, she’d been in several awkward situations over the years but this might top the rest of them. 

She chewed on her bottom lip, debating whether or not to make her confession. She’d raised two beautiful children, at least for the first decade of their lives. As a single mother … she was reluctant to let go of them. 

-

“There’s … people you should meet.” 

His heart dropped and he felt the urge to sprint - to run far away from here. He knew exactly what she meant. She took one glance at him, and turned. Probably testing to see if he would run again but … Fenrys forced himself to stay still, to keep in place while she made her way back to the house. 

She came out a minute later with two children, males and twins. One hand braced each of their shoulders. They couldn’t be older than ten, and he had no doubts they were his. For fucks sake he was a father. Even without scenting their heritage, their features gave it away. They looked just like him and … he swallowed the thought, even centuries later it was still fresh, the memories still too difficult to bring to the forefront of his mind. 

-

“I never spoke ill of you to them, and never let anyone else. If you were wondering. I never let anyone else, either.” He sat next to her on a bench, watching as the two sprinted around the large backyard, chasing each other with wooden swords. It faced the mountains, expanding into a beautiful view of the Staghorns. He could feel the breeze of the wind, and if he closed his eyes, he could smell the pine and snow. 

“You had every right to.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the two children, wincing as one hit the other on the back of the knees. He’d had no idea of what to say to them, how to even interact, but he supposed he’d have people to introduce them to. Gods if he had to ask Rowan for parenting advice, he’d never hear the end of it. 

They sat in silence, and he’d forgotten how nice it is to sit in her presence, how she'd always … steady, for lack of a better word. 

“The healer says they will settle,” y/n’s voice was hoarse now and in his peripheral he spotted her brushing a tear away. “I understand if it’s too much, but would you …” 

“I’ll look after them.” He promised, and without thinking he grasped one of her hands in his own. She didn’t pull away and he squeezed gently before letting go. Her hand fell flat against the wood of the bench, and her fingers flexed, digging in slightly before she returned it to her lap. She didn’t look at him, but a ghost of a smile crossed her face, gone before he could memorize it. The memories of her had grown hazy over the years, but now he wanted to take in every inch of her, commit it all to memory so years from now he could still remember her. Not necessarily out of love, but as a reminder. A reminder of how badly he’d messed up. He owed her that, owed himself that. 

-

“AELIN.” Fenrys roared, pounding on the Queen’s door. He’d returned several hours past sundown, the sky dark and lit only by the moon and several of the city’s inhabitants asleep in their beds. 

“What the fuck?” She cursed, and he heard both her and Rowan moving. He raised his hand to knock again, but the door swung open and a pissed off looking Queen and King consort stood in front of him. Still, if they knew about his kids … that anger would be nothing compared to his. 

“Did you know?” He said through gritted teeth. 

She crossed her arms, propping her wait on one hip. “I did, and I told you.” She said slowly, as if she was talking to a child - taunting him. 

“You never told me.” 

“I told you this morning!” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The other thing.” 

“Just tell us what it is, Fenrys.” Rowan said, his voice low and eyes half-lidded with sleep. That’s a change from the Rowan from centuries ago. If he’d pounded on their door like that, he’d be greeted by a knife to his throat or poised to slip between his ribs. 

“I’m. A. Father.” 

Aelin’s mouth parted, Rowan blinked once, and relief flooded through him that he hadn’t known. 

“Come in,” Rowan stood aside, letting him slip inside the room.

-

Fenrys stood a foot behind his two children, Rowan on his right, Aelin on his left, and brushed a stray tear away as they lowered the casket.  

His mind drifted to what he found the other day. First, he was shocked when her family asked him to help clean things out, but he supposed he was a step or two further away from her, and maybe they assumed it would hurt him less. Regardless, he felt … honored they trusted him with a task like that. 

He fought back tears as he opened the drawers, lifting out the variety of letters crumpled into there and spotted a fresh piece of folded paper, a barely legible scrawl on the top, one word … his name. Apparently her handwriting had never improved over the years. With shaky hands, he unfolded it. 

Fenrys, 

You’re a good male and a good father. 

Take care of our boys. I trust you. 

He blinked back the tears, he’d spent the days since she passed swallowed in a cloud of grief and worry. First hand, he knew how incredible of a mother she was and how the twins loved her. Six months, he’d had six months to watch her and learn but it hadn’t felt like enough and he doubted it ever will. But, y/n having faith in him, even trusting him, made some of the doubts fade.

#throne of glass fic #throne of glass x reader #fenrys moonbeam x y/n #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys x y/n #fenrys x reader #angst-tober 2023

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

Varric definitely teases Liam for his pre-dating relationship with Fenris because they're Like That and because those two are regularly obnoxious together (said with love), but part of it is definitely also jealousy and a general I Don't Get It So I Must Make It Funny. Like. He is terrible at analysing his own relationships but he loves putting others into trope boxes. And he also likes to Know Things and believes himself to be someone who Knows about his friends and their lives. So what do you mean those two are on a wavelength that i can't tune in to? How come his friend shares a secret illusive bond with someone that he can't make sense of in any way? And that from my best friend with whom (i thought) i have become attached to at the hip...... Can't just say that of course so you gotta joke about it, like a normal person.

#varric (<- guy who hasnt had a single normal relationship ever) @ liam and fenris: that's not normal #sorry incoherent block of text but im once again scrunching them in my brain #& gotta put it somewhere before i go into any more plot with either of them lol #angst time soon! ^-^ cant wait for family matters hehe #laya plays dragon age #oc: liam hawke #i do really love liams and fens friendship though #feel like theyre very unspectacular as a romance lmao overall there is pretty little drama! except for the one big thing tm

[motherofmabari]

So I've always been a fan of the headcanon that a Warden Hawke sibling would show up in Inquisition as Hawke's Warden friend instead of Alistair, Loghain, or Stroud. It just makes sense. It even plays into why they haven't succumbed to Coryphyfish's false calling - they were in Kirkwall, they have experience with red lyrium, they have potentially already met Corydoras. There's something strange about this Calling, something familiar, and they are uniquely positioned to resist. I love it, wish we got it in game, and in my headcanon it's what goes down.

I just had a thought though, about how this would play out with my girl, Gemma. How does Carver react, hearing from his sister that she's with the Inquisition? Hearing that she left Fenris behind? Carver knows his sister, he knows she's blaming herself for Corinthians, knows the guilt she carries for Malcolm, Bethany, Leandra, and Kirkwall. He knows she's not going into this planning to protect herself. He knows that she thinks she deserves to die, that everyone would have been better off if it had been her instead of Bethany all those years ago. He knows she left Fenris behind because she thinks she's going to her death, and Carver refuses to let that happen.

What if, before making for Crestwood, Carver went looking for Fenris? What if he told Fenris exactly where she was, and they traveled to Crestwood together?

Imagine Hawke walking into the cave, and finding Fenris waiting for her. The pain, the angst, at this point she's closer to succumbing to Despair than she's been since Leandra's death. She's terrified and certain she's going to get him killed. He's furious and heartbroken and betrayed, she left him behind and took the choice to follow her away from him, after all that time spent making sure he always had a choice. She was ready to die without him, to let him live with not having been there to fight for her. Imagine the relief they each feel just laying eyes on the other, finally able to see that despite everything, they're both still here.

I'm gonna chew on this for awhile, I think.

#Fenhawke #Gemma Hawke #Dragon age 2 #Fenris #Carver Hawke #warden carver #Inquistion #Angst

[spicywarl0ck]

Happy Friday! How about "I didn’t know what to do” for Fenhawke?

And managed to squeeze in another one for @dadrunkwriting; I know this was a long time coming, but take some hurt and comfort x3 Pairing: Fenris/mHawke Rating: T Length: 1029

“Hawke… what in the Maker’s name…” Fenris started, only to be interrupted by the man in front of him. 

“I didn’t know what to do.”

He’d never seen Hawke so lost before, his voice just barely reaching his ears as he stood in front of his house, the rain pouring down on him. His hair and clothes were soaked, his whole form shivering as he watched him with concern.

“Come in.” It was all he could say at the moment, stepping aside and waiting for the man to pass by.

His manor was cold and not offering much of the comfort Hawke needed right now, but there was hope that whatever Danarius's manor lacked, he could give to the mage who was so caught up in his grief he could barely hold himself.

Fenris knew that it hadn’t been that long ago, that Hawke lost his sister.

She’d been bright and beautiful, that much Hawke had told him. A ray of sunshine just as Merrill; Someone with a bright future ahead and gone way too soon. Of course, he had never mentioned how it came to be, but it was obvious to him that Hawke blamed herself for her death.

But, Bethany shouldn’t be the only one of the Hawke’s to fall.

His brother followed shortly, though not dead but cursed and poisoned with the black blood of the dark brood. At least, they had made sure to see him to safety by finding the Grey Wardens in the deep roads. The only ones who could more or less cure him of the illness that befell him.

Yet, today had marked another bitter death, as they had just witnessed the cruel death of Leandra Hawke, Hawke's mother.

Her death had been gruesome, her body tempered with the darkest of magic and used in the sickest ritual he ever witnessed. He couldn’t ever imagine watching someone from his family die in that way, and he hoped that he never witnessed something like that before he lost his memory.

“I wished there was anything I could say, but I know there is none.” 

Fenris felt it was his duty to fill the silence for once as he led Hawke through the manor and into the only lit room. He knew that there was no comfort he could offer, no word enough to heal the deep wound in Hawke’s chest.

“But I want you to know, I am here,” he added.

These were the only soothing words he could think of when he opened a bottle of wine, pouring a glass for Hawke and then for himself. They drank in silence for a moment, listening to the haunting sound of the wind rushing through the mansion as they indulged in the bittersweetness the wine had to offer.

“Thank you.” Hawke croaked out, not believing how weak he sounded at the moment. “I just… can’t believe she is gone,” he added, his shoulders slumped. “To think she had been killed like… like that.”

What if his magic was tainted too? What if he would destroy all that he loved? 

He couldn’t bear the thought of any more deaths; The blood on his hand. Wasn’t there enough that had been taken from him already? Enough that either magic or the Blight had taken from him?

“There was nothing you could have done,” Fenris assured him.

It was hard for him to see Hawke faltering like this. To see him as a broken man, devoid of all hope, while Hawke should be more. He was the man who pulled them all out of their dark worlds after all.

It was he, who had promised to stand with him till the end, he who had not cared about anything but his friends and his family all along.

“I know, and yet…” Hawke was almost too silent for him to hear it, as he went on. “And yet, I wished I could have saved her. Bethany too…” he added with a bitter smile. “Mother was right back then, I should have stopped her…”

“Hawke…” Fenris's voice snapped through the comforting firelit darkness like a whip. 

His brows were furrowed, and his green eyes narrowed when he regarded him harshly. “Bethany is dead. She made her choice.” The words were harsh but needed. “If she was the woman you told me about, there would have been nothing to stop her from what she did.” It was important for him that Hawke knew that.

“The same counts for Carver, I got to know him and by the Maker, he was a stubborn man.”

Hawke chuckled slightly at that. Yes, indeed he had been. His brother could have been a bit of a prick sometimes and Hawke knew there was no way, he could have talked him out of the Deep Road’s mission.

As for his mother… he knew that no one would have been able to save her. Not even his father.

“Thank you.” At least, there was some kind of peace to be found in that truth. And maybe Fenris was better when it came to comforting than he thought he was. “I am sorry for ambushing you in the middle of the night,” he added with an embarrassed smile that made him almost look a bit goofy.

“I just…”

“It’s alright.” Fenris interrupted him, knowing what the other man wanted to say. He too had felt lost not too long ago, saved by no one but Hawke himself. Of course, he was too prideful to admit it at the very moment.

“You can stay here for tonight if that is what you want?” The elf added with a polite cough, half of his face hiding within the shadow while the other one carried the warmth of the lit fireplace. “There should be a leftover chamber that should be… not in a too poor state.”

“I’d love that, thank you.” Hawke’s smile was warm when he replied, the ghosts still haunting him and clutching onto him. There was probably not much he could do against that, but it was that very moment he swore to himself to make Hawke smile as much as possible.

No matter the cost.

#dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #prompt #writing #my writing #fenhawke #Fenris/mHawke #Fenris/male Hawke #Fenris #male Hawke #dragon age2 #hurt and comfort #angst #a little bit of angst #more or less of a happy ending #canon character death mention #dragon age 2