She wakes up, just after dawn, feeling warm and comforted. For a moment, when her eyes flutter open, she forgets that she's lost her mother to an unspeakable horror. It feels wrong, to be given comfort and to be held so tenderly; feels wrong to be, for one fleeting moment, happy, and yet.
She wakes up in Fenris' arms. He's pressed against her back, either because she rolled over in her sleep or because he did, his knees under hers and his hips against her arse in such a perfect way that it could be bittersweet. He's asleep, she thinks, because his breathing is even and deep, the kind someone makes when he's asleep. He has his chin on her shoulder and one arm around her waist, the other presumably under his head. Or between the pillow and his head. She doesn't know, she doesn't want to break the spell.
She waits for ten whole breaths, before finding his hand around her waist and threading their fingers together, briefly stopping to brush her fingertips over the red sash around his wrist.
He was there all of the night before. Reacting to her and holding her. Whatever she needed. Fenris stayed awake through most of the night comforting her when Marian needed it. But he has fallen asleep now. His breath warm and even. He doesn't stir when she threads their fingers together. Not at first.
His hand curls warm in hers, a low sound of approval climbing up weakly from his throat.
Being here with Marian has been all Fenris has wanted ever since he fled. He did not think he would get to again. It was not the time to say so the night before. But in sleep he can be honest in his comfort to be close to her.
She feels the sound like a hum against her back, even weak as it is, and it makes her feel more steady. Her hand slips into his, so she can bring his hand up to kiss his knuckles gently.
You stayed, she thinks, breathing in the sleep-warmed scent of Fenris in the morning. Maybe it's pathetic of her to be able to think about things beyond her grief, or maybe this is how grief works; it's a tide, it comes and goes, it ebbs and and flows. It doesn't have Marian in its grip this morning, and so she can think of how she would give her left arm to wake up like this every day.
Beyond that, it's knowing that Fenris slept in a bed, a proper one, that pushes her to turn and face him.
"You should stay here," she whispers, once she's lying down facing him. No humorous quip, only honesty. "You don't have to be in bed with me, Maker knows this house has rooms to spare, but - live here, Fenris. It's grim to sleep so close to all the skeletons of your past."
Fenris is slow to wake given how little sleep he has had this night. He makes soft nonsense noises, does not pull his arm from around her waist. It is still limp where she raises it, but his fingers twitch when she kisses over his knuckles.
"....Haw..ke...?" Muzzy, rough with sleep. Fenris' deep voice rumbles against her back. He squints at her, too slow after only just waking to process the words entirely. His hair's a bit of a mess from where he's buried himself into the bedding to hide his face away from the growing light of day. "D'you...wish for me to leave your bed..?"
"No, love," she whispers, a little amused. She reaches up and brushes one unruly hair strand out of his eyes, because she has a momentary lapse and thinks Fenris would hate his appearance being messy. She has to make an effort to not lean in and kiss the side of his head by his temples, or his shoulder. "Quite the opposite."
A pause, a calming breath. "But, if that's what you need...If you want - if you don't want to be in my bed, Fenris..."
"...What?" He reaches up with his free hand to rub the sleep from his eyes, then squints up at her. "Are. Are we getting up or not?"
Right now he does not need anything if Hawke is well. He is here to tend to Her needs and at the moment happens to be quite comfortable. But he would drag himself from this soft warmth for her if she wanted something, of course he would.
"I'm..." A yawn. "I'm afraid I didn't catch most of whatever thoughts lead you here. I am comfortable at the moment. Do not worry of me."
Her touch turns more certain, though still tender. Fingertips brush over his cheek, down the curve of his jawline.
"I was telling you to move here," she finally cuts the silence to say. "It's warm and clean and safe, and I don't like the idea of just leaving you to haunt the halls and rooms of that mansion alone. I was telling you that if you need time, and don't want to share my bed - now, or ever - that's fine. The offer still stands. Maker knows we've got plenty of rooms."
"....Oh." Fenris does not sound terribly clever, thick from sleep as he is. He tries to blink some coherence into his head. There are reasons for him to refuse, of course, but in light of the last half a day they feel small and unimportant. There is no one left to share her home with her if not for Fenris.
No one that is not working for her at least.
"If...if that is what you wish, then I can certainly do so." It would make protecting Marian easier. Ensuring she does not punish herself needlessly for the loss she has suffered.
"I do not have many belongings to bring so it would not take long."
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She wakes up in Fenris' arms. He's pressed against her back, either because she rolled over in her sleep or because he did, his knees under hers and his hips against her arse in such a perfect way that it could be bittersweet. He's asleep, she thinks, because his breathing is even and deep, the kind someone makes when he's asleep. He has his chin on her shoulder and one arm around her waist, the other presumably under his head. Or between the pillow and his head. She doesn't know, she doesn't want to break the spell.
She waits for ten whole breaths, before finding his hand around her waist and threading their fingers together, briefly stopping to brush her fingertips over the red sash around his wrist.
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His hand curls warm in hers, a low sound of approval climbing up weakly from his throat.
Being here with Marian has been all Fenris has wanted ever since he fled. He did not think he would get to again. It was not the time to say so the night before. But in sleep he can be honest in his comfort to be close to her.
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You stayed, she thinks, breathing in the sleep-warmed scent of Fenris in the morning. Maybe it's pathetic of her to be able to think about things beyond her grief, or maybe this is how grief works; it's a tide, it comes and goes, it ebbs and and flows. It doesn't have Marian in its grip this morning, and so she can think of how she would give her left arm to wake up like this every day.
Beyond that, it's knowing that Fenris slept in a bed, a proper one, that pushes her to turn and face him.
"You should stay here," she whispers, once she's lying down facing him. No humorous quip, only honesty. "You don't have to be in bed with me, Maker knows this house has rooms to spare, but - live here, Fenris. It's grim to sleep so close to all the skeletons of your past."
Today is the day for long tags spoons
"....Haw..ke...?" Muzzy, rough with sleep. Fenris' deep voice rumbles against her back. He squints at her, too slow after only just waking to process the words entirely. His hair's a bit of a mess from where he's buried himself into the bedding to hide his face away from the growing light of day. "D'you...wish for me to leave your bed..?"
Re: Today is the day for long tags spoons
A pause, a calming breath. "But, if that's what you need...If you want - if you don't want to be in my bed, Fenris..."
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Right now he does not need anything if Hawke is well. He is here to tend to Her needs and at the moment happens to be quite comfortable. But he would drag himself from this soft warmth for her if she wanted something, of course he would.
"I'm..." A yawn. "I'm afraid I didn't catch most of whatever thoughts lead you here. I am comfortable at the moment. Do not worry of me."
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"I was telling you to move here," she finally cuts the silence to say. "It's warm and clean and safe, and I don't like the idea of just leaving you to haunt the halls and rooms of that mansion alone. I was telling you that if you need time, and don't want to share my bed - now, or ever - that's fine. The offer still stands. Maker knows we've got plenty of rooms."
no subject
No one that is not working for her at least.
"If...if that is what you wish, then I can certainly do so." It would make protecting Marian easier. Ensuring she does not punish herself needlessly for the loss she has suffered.
"I do not have many belongings to bring so it would not take long."