As much of a light sleeper as Marian is, she doesn't stir when the mattress dips and settles with the loss of a second body next to hers.
She is spent, truth be told. She sleeps, that afterglow sleep of a woman who finally got to kiss the beacon (not target) of her affections until her lips hurt from it, and from smiling against his lips for so long, and from mapping his body with kisses...
She had a good night. A first of many, she'd thought when sleep claimed her, half sprawled against Fenris.
But what wakes her is the loss of heat. It's as if the air gets sucked out of the room. She stirs, sure it's a nightmare, and reaches out for - nothing.
She opens her eyes in time to see him in full armor, heading for the door.
"Fenris?" Her voice feels so small. She doesn't want to be hurt right now, but can tell this one will. Still, she presses on with a soft joke. "You don't have to rush out. Or was I that bad?"
[ooc; sorry for the long pause!!! I visited fam for Christmas, had a cancelled flight and decided that tags can no longer wait because they must sustain me instead.]
[ooc: Oh nooooo cancelled flights! I ended up getting a sinus infection from my flight home for the holidays. Wishing you the best for getting home.]
--
For one long second it seems as if Fenris isn't even going to respond. Or that he can't hear her. His breath shudders out of him and it's shaky. He's pale. Something is very wrong. But as ever Hawke's voice claws him back from the shadows his mind wanders. He looks over his shoulder at her and wishes he knew what to say in this moment.
"I'm sorry. It's not...that. It was. I wish I could explain properly. You are better than anything I could have imagined. Anything less would be insufficient."
When he turns round to face her, he's trembling.
"When I was with you I...I began to remember. Only for a moment, but the past was crystal clear to me. It's so much it's too much. I....I cannot do this, Marion."
While faced with his back and his silence, she pushes herself up to sit, and pulls the covers up under her arms. Whether they have a conversation, a fight, or do not talk at all, she's not doing this with her tits out. She's not doing this with the marks his kisses left behind, faint little bruises, visible.
"You - you remembered?" Shit, no wonder he looks pale. He is trembling and she is pushing herself up to stand now, pulling the covers along with her to wrap them around herself.
"I'm sorry, I - it looks like that hurt. But, Fenris, what is...the this you cannot do?"
Happy new year! Have some angst so we can move them on
"I have never recalled anything of myself before Denarius' ritual. Before he turned me into his 'little wolf' and set me upon anyone he wished to see slain. All I ever wanted was to be happy. Just....just for a moment, even. To have it all come rushing back at once only to lose it again...!"
Fenris' breath rushes out of him and it's damn near a sob.
"I'm so sorry. I was a fool." To think he could have Hawke? To think he deserved any of this? Even when he had the world in his arms caressing Marion, his heart just had to poison him with a reminder of who he Really was. How little his life was worth.
She was right, in her instinct upon waking up and finding him dressed and tense; this one will hurt. It hurts, but not because he's changing his mind about them - because, call her a fool as well, but she thinks that the feelings might still be there - but hurts because he is in pain.
"Fenris - let me help. You're not alone anymore, you know this. What we had - you're not losing it. But if you need my help with recovering your memories, you have it. Unconditionally, I promise."
Maybe we can get them to reconcile before three gd years pass this time
It is in the way he looks at her with such vulnerability in his gaze that speaks to how he still feels for her. How nothing has changed but he is in so much pain. Enough pain that he grits his teeth and lashes out the way a scared, wounded animal would.
"Am I not?! I do not even know who I am! How could I ever give myself to someone else?" How could he be worthy of someone when he does not know who he even is?
"I...Please. I need. I need to go, for now. I am sorry Hawke." Time. Space. It's all Fenris asks for, though even when he asks he assumes that this means he's ruined everything for good.
She knows he doesn't hear her now, he's spiralled straight into thinking himself unworthy of happiness.
She still tries, because he's worth fighting for.
So she steps closer, instead of giving him space. "You can leave, but you listen to me, first. You are worth a lot, you are worth fighting for, and you are worthy of being happy."
Marian's hand at Fenris' cheek is fire and ice. It is accusation and it is hope. It is everything Fenris has ever wanted even as he sinks into the depths of despair over what he feels unworthy to touch. But Fenris has never been good at denying Hawke anything. Even the things he does not believe in. So when she tells him in no uncertain terms that he is worth her fighting for, he does not hear it now.
But come morning he may. He may not run as far or for as long as he might have, especially if she does not let the silence between them stand as would be so easy to do. Fenris asks for time and space but what he means to do is open a gulf between them because he cannot fathom being worthy of her. It will not be intentional. And he will not know how to stop nonetheless.
Marian has planted a seed in his heart though. An anchor to which a connecting rope might be tied. Pulling them back together as inexorable as the tides. This evening he sheds tears onto her hand. He pulls away. Turns and leaves.
But her sash hangs around his wrist. A promise to not forget tonight. Nor the last words Marian leaves him with as he marches off--head hung low--into the predawn of Kirkwall's streets.
Edited 2025-01-03 15:31 (UTC)
i skipped us - lmk if this is ok? this bit can have happened before his personal quest
In what is perhaps the Maker's sense of irony, as Fenris pulls away and takes his time, Hawke's mother comments on seeing how she looks at the elf (bloody everyone's seen how she looks at the elf!), and decides to attempt to find love again.
In the meantime, the Arishok summons her, the mine gets attacked by a dragon again, Merrill needs help, Anders wants help, Isabela disappears off to nowhere, and the world keeps moving along. First slowly, then at a breakneck speed.
She doesn't stop caring for Fenris. As much as Anders is of the opinion that she should just move on, because clearly he has, Marian cannot. She knows whose red sash hangs around his wrist like a cuff, she knows it's hers.
They settle into an awkward sort of routine, at first, with Hawke taking him with her as often as he wants to be there, until it stops being awkward. The camaraderie returns, the ease to speak to Fenris, and the way he makes her laugh unexpectedly with that lingering dry wit, returns. Her heart remains here, as if it is manifested in that red sash around his wrist. Foolishly or not, she gives him time and hopes that he will come back to her. That he will find bravery in doing so.
And then, her mother gets taken.
In the aftermath of it all, she is numb. Left on her own in the world, the last Hawke standing, all of her regrets hanging like a noose around her neck. She shouldn't have taken Carver down into the Deep Roads with her. She should've been faster on the way here from Lothering and saved Bethany. She should've paid attention to the creep sending her mother flowers, she should've found him after he'd killed Ninette and taken him out. There are no words to explain the magnitude of her grief, even as she puts one foot in front of the other to walk home.
She is vaguely aware that, one by one, her companions split off to go back to their own homes and quarters, or to drown their anger in shitty wine, until it's one other set of footsteps behind her, at some distance, all the way up to Hightown. Fenris - of course she knows him by the sound of his footsteps.
He will leave her now, she thinks as she reaches the top of a staircase and turns towards her estate. He will leave, go to his damp and bloodied house, and leave her to cry on her own. She hasn't told anyone that she needs company, in their defence, and even if she wanted to tell Fenris - when she does turn to face him and opens her mouth, all that comes out is a broken sob.
"Fuck," she manages, and clamps her hand over her mouth quickly, shaking.
Fenris' steps are some of the most difficult to keep track of, save for perhaps Merril when the mage is actually trying to creep along. His stride is measured. Never outpacing Marian's. Remaining behind her to ensure she makes it home safely. He has not said a word their entire march back from the horrors witnessed. Nothing he could say to fill the silence would do the matter justice.
He is not prepared for Hawke to look so vulnerable when she turns to face him. Whether her intention had been to bid him farewell or something else...Anger wells in Fenris' heart. Because he sees himself in her anguish, the same broken voice. The same trembling shoulders. Marian had been strong when he could not. Marian had kept him at her side even when he could not be what she needed.
Could Fenris allow himself to do any less?
"I do not think that will help your mood." He says as he closes distance between them. "Come. Let us get you inside."
How dare he - turn things around with the old Marian Hawke gallows humour. She chokes between a stupid laugh and another sob, and with a sway on her feet, as soon as he closes the distance between them she crashes into him, burying her face against his neck, and hiding the fact that her tears are just silently falling now.
"Is it me? Do I just ruin everything?" She lifts her head, a desperate need to look him in the eye - ignoring how close she is to his face right now, how she's all but clinging to him on the street. There's not a lot she cares for, right now, but she cares for his opinion. "Fenris, do I ruin everything?"
Fenris did not think he had enough of a heart to break. How that simple question cracks him open and spills out his raw, broken core onto the street between them. Marian blames herself for Fenris' weakness. She blames herself for everything. Every tragedy she has endured. He has never known a soul as strong as Hawke's, but Fenris suspects even she will break if she tries to own so many misfortunes she could have had no way of knowing the shapes of.
One arm tucks itself under her thighs and lifts her up, tucked up against one of his slim hips while the other reaches for the door to her home. He will carry her inside. He will care after her this night. Whatever she needs.
"You do not." Fenris says firmly, leaving no room to doubt if he means the words. "You fix far more things than you break, and even your path of destruction is more material and interpersonal." Inside her entryway now. He keeps walking.
"You are singular, Marian Hawke. Never doubt that."
Any other day, she'd say that she can walk just fine, and not rely on him to carry her into her own house. Any other day, she would focus single-mindedly on the fact that he's holding her, touching her, and it would let her heart swell and her spirits soar.
Tonight, she's numb. He picks her up, she lets him. He touches her, she feels it all muted. She doesn't wriggle out of his arms, but doesn't burrow into them the way she wants to either; she is carried. The way a sad sack of potatoes is carried.
"A singular mess," she mutters under her breath. "What am I supposed to do with...fuck, with everything." She lets him pick the room, once they're inside. Tiny comes to the front room - a parlour, her mother would've called it - a soft little bork of confusion at witnessing his mistress come inside in the arms of the (and also, Tiny's favourite) elf who so rarely comes by.
Instead of laughing, she feels her breath catch here. "Maker, I have to make funeral arrangements and..."
"I believe you will find we are all that. A singular mess." He spies the Mabari but is grateful the hound does not pressure him for pets now while he is busy carrying Hawke. She needs his full attention for the moment. The keeper of his jagged heart who is lacking all of the energy she is ordinarily abound with. Fenris does not put Marian down. He is turning his gaze upward toward her bedroom.
"Nothing, this evening. You have no obligations other than yourself." Because there is no point in attempting to continue on as though nothing has happened. Marian is devastated and she needs to look after her own heart lest she shatters completely trying to dash herself into rocks to keep going.
It works - at least, it pulls her away from the rocks she wants to dash herself onto. Her attention goes from the thousand-yard stare to meeting his gaze with a surprised vulnerability. Maybe she's surprised that she's vulnerable, but also that he's telling her to be. Even if just for the evening.
And if that's the case, what would Marian Hawke want to do, to simply be? "Will you help me to bed?" comes out, small and soft, continuing with the surprises. Her heart thuds against her ribcage following that request, like she's catching up with the fact that she wants to be cared for. By him, that's important.
If Varric, or Isabela, had offered to carry her up the stairs like this, she would've brushed the offer off and claimed she'd get over it soon. Maker, Isabela - where the fuck did the pirate even run off to, and why?
One step at a time.
If Fenris helps her to bed, that's where she'll want to hide for two days at least. If Fenris helps her to bed, she might do the unthinkable and ask him to stay.
Fenris cannot ask more of Marian than he has shown of himself. He has lost so much less than her and acted out so much more. A handful of memories of people who may or may not be alive compared to an entire family Fenris has watched wither away over the years before his very eyes? No. She ought to allow herself to mourn. She deserves better than Fenris to be the one keeping her company, but he is here.
The others are not.
"Of course." Fenris carries Marian up the stairs. Turns her so she cannot see the doors to her former family's rooms while he steers her to her own. He does not know which belonged to whom and it doesn't matter now. All he knows is that the one door is hers and where he has found her before. He sets her down at the foot of her bed. Turns to look for her wardrobe so he can pull out something clean for her to put on. If she needs assistance he will help her undress. Wipe her down with the cloth in the basin in the corner.
Whatever she needs until she's changed out of her gear and the grime cleaned off her skin.
It's a muted sort of perception - she notices it in a muffled way, that Fenris angles her away from her mother's room, and it pulls at some string of her heart that makes her turn her head to hide her face against the crook of his neck. Grateful, but raw enough to not be able to put it into words.
The rest comes in waves. She's in his arms, then she's set down on the bed, then reality hits her, then she notices Fenris looking around her room.
(Did he really pay attention to so little around him back then that he doesn't recall where furniture is?)
She has no intention of bathing, or changing. Well - fine, she can take the reinforced part of her armor off, leaving her in just the trousers and the shirt she wears beneath it -
I wish you'd at least try one of the dresses on, darling. Her mother's voice, tired and fond. You may be your father through and through, but you're an Amell as well. You're a Lady.
- and she's absolutely not asking him to wash her.
"Fenris?" She cuts through the silence, her voice brittle, her gaze lifted to study his back for now. "Will you stay? Please."
Look, his concern at the time wasn't on her interior decorating choices. It was rather more singularly focused. And if Marian has no intention of cleaning up to save her bedding from being soiled, then Fenris has no reason to look around for anything else.
He turns when she calls his name. And for a second he is so reminiscent of the night he left. Standing by the fireplace, his back mostly to her. Only this time he turns the rest of the way round to face her.
This time he walks back over to the bed. Kneels down next to it.
"I will stay." He says. Like it was obvious. Like she didn't have to ask it of him. "What do you require of me?"
Not having to beg him for it helps, loosens something dark and painful in her chest and makes her shoulders drop with relief as soon as he says I will stay.
She reaches for him, before she can stop herself. Her hand brushes over his cheek, traces the sharp line of his jaw. She feels quickly guilty for her timing, ashamed even - here she is, left alone in the world and still somehow finds the space in her mind for drooling over Fenris? Despicable behaviour, no wonder he's wanted nothing to do with her since -
No. She cuts her own self-destructive thoughts off short. He hasn't said he wanted nothing to do with her, since they slept together. He hasn't said anything other than that he needed time, and even then... he still left her house wearing that red sash as a sort of promise. If that's what he thinks of it as.
She shakes her head, letting her hand drop back to her lap. "I don't want to be alone," she murmurs. "But I don't - I don't want to be with anyone else, so if..." Her voice falters a bit here, and she refuses to meet his gaze now. "I just need you to hold me. Is that alright?"
He wears it even now. Is never seen without it, for Marian Hawke is always on his mind. In his own way, he is devoted to her still. He never stopped. His fears and self-flagellation feel small in this moment. Looking over the woman he has followed into waking nightmares without even a step of hesitation. Marian needs him, and so here is where Fenris finds himself.
It can be that simple, tonight.
"Yes. Let me remove my gear. I will be with you." Not until dawn. Not until she wakes. Fenris will stay until Hawke is strong enough to be on her own. It may take days. He is prepared for that.
"Alright," she agrees, hating how small her voice sounds but ready to let him go anyway. She happens to look down at her hands, then, and notices the grime (the blood?) still stuck under her fingernails.
While Fenris removes his gear, Hawke finds it within herself to take the three steps to the basin of water set on her table, meant for washing up. Pours fresh water out of the jug beside it, and scrubs her hands clean with hard soap, until the water runs dirty. The rest of her is probably a mess, too. Sweaty, sticky, plain unpleasant - but the idea of calling for a bath, or drawing one for herself, or even getting in one feels like a violent thing, so - that's how her bed will have to accept her tonight.
Hands clean, she dries them off on a towel, and rubs the damp thing against her face, then turns her attention to the room to see if perhaps Fenris is ready. (Still here.)
Without his imposing armor, Fenris casts a nearly delicate silhouette by the fire. Dressed down to his leggings, bare from the waist up. He is laying his armor and weapon aside with care when Hawke turns. He straightens then. Holding himself to his full height rather than his usual slouch. Hawke needs him to be strong and so that is what he must be.
No matter what trepidation he feels to get into Marian's bed with her a second time (unworthy, ever since he fled from her--), for tonight he is ready to compartmentalize. Fenris walks over to Marian's bed and climbs into it as though it were where he naturally belonged. He looks up at her. To the empty spot by the edge he has left her. It is a concession further still to be the one deeper into the bed where it will be harder for him to flee without waking her.
[ ooc; im so sorry for the long weeks of silence, but rl slammed into me and put the cherry on the cake in the form of a lil cold. had this reply in the back of my head waiting for the snot to let me type it ]
It's nothing she hasn't seen before, but if it were any other day she would be flustered and blushing at seeing him bare again, because it brings back the memories of their night of passion - and the few other nights of exchanging heated kisses, before - and yet all she can muster is a strange sort of reverence. He's here, lowering his guard so much to be half-naked in her bed, because she needs him?
She lets out a shaky breath, a knot dislodging from somewhere in her chest, and approaches. Slips under the covers, rolls herself onto her side to face him, and looks at him without any further pretenses that Everything Is Fine. Everything is not fine, but Fenris intends to stay.
Quietly, while the loss and the grief is at the forefront of her heart and mind, she asks: "If I love you, will I lose you, too?"
[ooc: not to worry i don't mind backtagging. It doesn't take me too long to reread a thread if I have to remind myself where I am :) I hope you are doing better. IRL has been a shitshow over here too so I totally get it.]
Fenris will remain here unclothed, unprotected, unsheltered for as long as Hawke needs him. Even if his own troubles claw at him, he will keep them at bay long enough to assuage hers. Later he can return to his self loathing. His unworthiness. Right now she needs someone and he is all she has chosen to rely on.
So here is where he will be.
When Marian rolls over to face him, Fenris reaches out and clasps one of her hands in his own.
"You did once, and I am still here. I will not promise that I cannot be broken, only that nothing so far has done so. Only that you know my strength in battle and that I will not falter in my duties to protect you and your interests." He is startled to have to admit those words are true. So how can he feel unworthy despite it all? Strange.
"I will have to be stronger than what haunts you. As will you."
She presses her lips together, allowing herself a simple and singular comfort; to curl her fingers around Fenris' and hold his hand right back, to brush her thumb over his knuckles where she can reach.
Maybe she can let go of foolish superstitions. The idea that she is going to lose anyone she loves, everyone she loves, because that's what Marian Hawke is good at - it's the only thing she's good at, watching people die and fucking up - is less hers and more the desire demon's. And it wouldn't do for a mage, especially an apostate like her, with so many eyes on her, to slip up and invite possession. Fucking Meredith would love that - the chance to clap her in chains and call for a public execution.
"Saying I did once makes it sound like I ever stopped," she murmurs, and brings his hands closer so she can brush a kiss across his knuckles.
"You know that - it's not a bodyguard that I need, Fenris, it's a friend. Don't fight my battles for me, let me fight our battles together. Side by side."
"You did not, did you..." Another truth Fenris finds he is not at all surprised to learn. Perhaps he knew in the back of his heart but never allowed himself to believe it to be true. "My feelings have likewise...not ceased."
He lets her kiss over his knuckles. His chest grows tight for the affection swelling there.
"No. I am wise enough to know that even if I were to try you would only run off anyway. And I could not ask for a more capable cohort when we wade into battle." Even if Marian Hawke is a mage, Fenris knows this to be certain. They fight well together. "But right now, it is alright to allow me to guard you. Until you are well enough again to fight once more."
His feelings have likewise not ceased. His feelings -
The heart is a funny thing. The grief and impotent rage that Hawke feels at this moment is a tidal wave that's swept her under, and yet it's been buoyed by the fact that Fenris feels the same way for her still. And that, that feels lick an ember. A precious one, that Hawke will shelter and protect, as best as she can.
She lets his hands go, brushing her fingertips lightly down the curve of his jaw, and nods. "I trust you." To guard her until she's well enough, to know that she can be well again, and to just exist in silence until the world stops feeling overwhelming.
She'll get better, in time. It's what Hawkes do. The whole family, as a whole - they keep pushing forward. Given that she's the whole family, as a whole, it'll be up to her to push forward. For the night, she lets herself be guarded, switching between silent sobs when the loss springs back to the forefront of her mind, silent numbness, and eventually sleep.
Fenris has never been a chatty man. Even at his most inebriated and uninhibited he is choosy with his words. When Marian mourns he does not seek to cover up her grief with words. He holds her hands. His thumbs rub circles along the backs of hers. If she asks questions he always answers but doesn't pressure her to speak.
Eventually she becomes nonverbal. And when she does finally fall asleep Fenris scoots closer and wraps her up in his arms. If she is going to sleep he wants her to get rested, not be plagued by nightmares. What little comfort he can offer her he will.
Owes it to her to try.
It's nearly dawn before Fenris finally dozes off in a light sleep, his chin tucked over Marian's shoulder where he holds her close.
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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As much of a light sleeper as Marian is, she doesn't stir when the mattress dips and settles with the loss of a second body next to hers.
She is spent, truth be told. She sleeps, that afterglow sleep of a woman who finally got to kiss the beacon (not target) of her affections until her lips hurt from it, and from smiling against his lips for so long, and from mapping his body with kisses...
She had a good night. A first of many, she'd thought when sleep claimed her, half sprawled against Fenris.
But what wakes her is the loss of heat. It's as if the air gets sucked out of the room. She stirs, sure it's a nightmare, and reaches out for - nothing.
She opens her eyes in time to see him in full armor, heading for the door.
"Fenris?" Her voice feels so small. She doesn't want to be hurt right now, but can tell this one will. Still, she presses on with a soft joke. "You don't have to rush out. Or was I that bad?"
[ooc; sorry for the long pause!!! I visited fam for Christmas, had a cancelled flight and decided that tags can no longer wait because they must sustain me instead.]
Actually got icons in the interim
--
For one long second it seems as if Fenris isn't even going to respond. Or that he can't hear her. His breath shudders out of him and it's shaky. He's pale. Something is very wrong. But as ever Hawke's voice claws him back from the shadows his mind wanders. He looks over his shoulder at her and wishes he knew what to say in this moment.
"I'm sorry. It's not...that. It was. I wish I could explain properly. You are better than anything I could have imagined. Anything less would be insufficient."
When he turns round to face her, he's trembling.
"When I was with you I...I began to remember. Only for a moment, but the past was crystal clear to me. It's so much it's too much. I....I cannot do this, Marion."
i made it - aaaand happy new year
"You - you remembered?" Shit, no wonder he looks pale. He is trembling and she is pushing herself up to stand now, pulling the covers along with her to wrap them around herself.
"I'm sorry, I - it looks like that hurt. But, Fenris, what is...the this you cannot do?"
Happy new year! Have some angst so we can move them on
Fenris' breath rushes out of him and it's damn near a sob.
"I'm so sorry. I was a fool." To think he could have Hawke? To think he deserved any of this? Even when he had the world in his arms caressing Marion, his heart just had to poison him with a reminder of who he Really was. How little his life was worth.
/kicks feet
"Fenris - let me help. You're not alone anymore, you know this. What we had - you're not losing it. But if you need my help with recovering your memories, you have it. Unconditionally, I promise."
Maybe we can get them to reconcile before three gd years pass this time
"Am I not?! I do not even know who I am! How could I ever give myself to someone else?" How could he be worthy of someone when he does not know who he even is?
"I...Please. I need. I need to go, for now. I am sorry Hawke." Time. Space. It's all Fenris asks for, though even when he asks he assumes that this means he's ruined everything for good.
get in loser we're going 'canon changing'
She still tries, because he's worth fighting for.
So she steps closer, instead of giving him space. "You can leave, but you listen to me, first. You are worth a lot, you are worth fighting for, and you are worthy of being happy."
But she won't stop him from going, not anymore.
Helllll yeah
But come morning he may. He may not run as far or for as long as he might have, especially if she does not let the silence between them stand as would be so easy to do. Fenris asks for time and space but what he means to do is open a gulf between them because he cannot fathom being worthy of her. It will not be intentional. And he will not know how to stop nonetheless.
Marian has planted a seed in his heart though. An anchor to which a connecting rope might be tied. Pulling them back together as inexorable as the tides. This evening he sheds tears onto her hand. He pulls away. Turns and leaves.
But her sash hangs around his wrist. A promise to not forget tonight. Nor the last words Marian leaves him with as he marches off--head hung low--into the predawn of Kirkwall's streets.
i skipped us - lmk if this is ok? this bit can have happened before his personal quest
In the meantime, the Arishok summons her, the mine gets attacked by a dragon again, Merrill needs help, Anders wants help, Isabela disappears off to nowhere, and the world keeps moving along. First slowly, then at a breakneck speed.
She doesn't stop caring for Fenris. As much as Anders is of the opinion that she should just move on, because clearly he has, Marian cannot. She knows whose red sash hangs around his wrist like a cuff, she knows it's hers.
They settle into an awkward sort of routine, at first, with Hawke taking him with her as often as he wants to be there, until it stops being awkward. The camaraderie returns, the ease to speak to Fenris, and the way he makes her laugh unexpectedly with that lingering dry wit, returns. Her heart remains here, as if it is manifested in that red sash around his wrist. Foolishly or not, she gives him time and hopes that he will come back to her. That he will find bravery in doing so.
And then, her mother gets taken.
In the aftermath of it all, she is numb. Left on her own in the world, the last Hawke standing, all of her regrets hanging like a noose around her neck. She shouldn't have taken Carver down into the Deep Roads with her. She should've been faster on the way here from Lothering and saved Bethany. She should've paid attention to the creep sending her mother flowers, she should've found him after he'd killed Ninette and taken him out. There are no words to explain the magnitude of her grief, even as she puts one foot in front of the other to walk home.
She is vaguely aware that, one by one, her companions split off to go back to their own homes and quarters, or to drown their anger in shitty wine, until it's one other set of footsteps behind her, at some distance, all the way up to Hightown. Fenris - of course she knows him by the sound of his footsteps.
He will leave her now, she thinks as she reaches the top of a staircase and turns towards her estate. He will leave, go to his damp and bloodied house, and leave her to cry on her own. She hasn't told anyone that she needs company, in their defence, and even if she wanted to tell Fenris - when she does turn to face him and opens her mouth, all that comes out is a broken sob.
"Fuck," she manages, and clamps her hand over her mouth quickly, shaking.
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He is not prepared for Hawke to look so vulnerable when she turns to face him. Whether her intention had been to bid him farewell or something else...Anger wells in Fenris' heart. Because he sees himself in her anguish, the same broken voice. The same trembling shoulders. Marian had been strong when he could not. Marian had kept him at her side even when he could not be what she needed.
Could Fenris allow himself to do any less?
"I do not think that will help your mood." He says as he closes distance between them. "Come. Let us get you inside."
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"Is it me? Do I just ruin everything?" She lifts her head, a desperate need to look him in the eye - ignoring how close she is to his face right now, how she's all but clinging to him on the street. There's not a lot she cares for, right now, but she cares for his opinion. "Fenris, do I ruin everything?"
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One arm tucks itself under her thighs and lifts her up, tucked up against one of his slim hips while the other reaches for the door to her home. He will carry her inside. He will care after her this night. Whatever she needs.
"You do not." Fenris says firmly, leaving no room to doubt if he means the words. "You fix far more things than you break, and even your path of destruction is more material and interpersonal." Inside her entryway now. He keeps walking.
"You are singular, Marian Hawke. Never doubt that."
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Tonight, she's numb. He picks her up, she lets him. He touches her, she feels it all muted. She doesn't wriggle out of his arms, but doesn't burrow into them the way she wants to either; she is carried. The way a sad sack of potatoes is carried.
"A singular mess," she mutters under her breath. "What am I supposed to do with...fuck, with everything." She lets him pick the room, once they're inside. Tiny comes to the front room - a parlour, her mother would've called it - a soft little bork of confusion at witnessing his mistress come inside in the arms of the (and also, Tiny's favourite) elf who so rarely comes by.
Instead of laughing, she feels her breath catch here. "Maker, I have to make funeral arrangements and..."
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"Nothing, this evening. You have no obligations other than yourself." Because there is no point in attempting to continue on as though nothing has happened. Marian is devastated and she needs to look after her own heart lest she shatters completely trying to dash herself into rocks to keep going.
"You simply need to Be."
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And if that's the case, what would Marian Hawke want to do, to simply be? "Will you help me to bed?" comes out, small and soft, continuing with the surprises. Her heart thuds against her ribcage following that request, like she's catching up with the fact that she wants to be cared for. By him, that's important.
If Varric, or Isabela, had offered to carry her up the stairs like this, she would've brushed the offer off and claimed she'd get over it soon. Maker, Isabela - where the fuck did the pirate even run off to, and why?
One step at a time.
If Fenris helps her to bed, that's where she'll want to hide for two days at least. If Fenris helps her to bed, she might do the unthinkable and ask him to stay.
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The others are not.
"Of course." Fenris carries Marian up the stairs. Turns her so she cannot see the doors to her former family's rooms while he steers her to her own. He does not know which belonged to whom and it doesn't matter now. All he knows is that the one door is hers and where he has found her before. He sets her down at the foot of her bed. Turns to look for her wardrobe so he can pull out something clean for her to put on. If she needs assistance he will help her undress. Wipe her down with the cloth in the basin in the corner.
Whatever she needs until she's changed out of her gear and the grime cleaned off her skin.
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The rest comes in waves. She's in his arms, then she's set down on the bed, then reality hits her, then she notices Fenris looking around her room.
(Did he really pay attention to so little around him back then that he doesn't recall where furniture is?)
She has no intention of bathing, or changing. Well - fine, she can take the reinforced part of her armor off, leaving her in just the trousers and the shirt she wears beneath it -
I wish you'd at least try one of the dresses on, darling. Her mother's voice, tired and fond. You may be your father through and through, but you're an Amell as well. You're a Lady.
- and she's absolutely not asking him to wash her.
"Fenris?" She cuts through the silence, her voice brittle, her gaze lifted to study his back for now. "Will you stay? Please."
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He turns when she calls his name. And for a second he is so reminiscent of the night he left. Standing by the fireplace, his back mostly to her. Only this time he turns the rest of the way round to face her.
This time he walks back over to the bed. Kneels down next to it.
"I will stay." He says. Like it was obvious. Like she didn't have to ask it of him. "What do you require of me?"
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She reaches for him, before she can stop herself. Her hand brushes over his cheek, traces the sharp line of his jaw. She feels quickly guilty for her timing, ashamed even - here she is, left alone in the world and still somehow finds the space in her mind for drooling over Fenris? Despicable behaviour, no wonder he's wanted nothing to do with her since -
No. She cuts her own self-destructive thoughts off short. He hasn't said he wanted nothing to do with her, since they slept together. He hasn't said anything other than that he needed time, and even then... he still left her house wearing that red sash as a sort of promise. If that's what he thinks of it as.
She shakes her head, letting her hand drop back to her lap. "I don't want to be alone," she murmurs. "But I don't - I don't want to be with anyone else, so if..." Her voice falters a bit here, and she refuses to meet his gaze now. "I just need you to hold me. Is that alright?"
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It can be that simple, tonight.
"Yes. Let me remove my gear. I will be with you." Not until dawn. Not until she wakes. Fenris will stay until Hawke is strong enough to be on her own. It may take days. He is prepared for that.
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While Fenris removes his gear, Hawke finds it within herself to take the three steps to the basin of water set on her table, meant for washing up. Pours fresh water out of the jug beside it, and scrubs her hands clean with hard soap, until the water runs dirty. The rest of her is probably a mess, too. Sweaty, sticky, plain unpleasant - but the idea of calling for a bath, or drawing one for herself, or even getting in one feels like a violent thing, so - that's how her bed will have to accept her tonight.
Hands clean, she dries them off on a towel, and rubs the damp thing against her face, then turns her attention to the room to see if perhaps Fenris is ready. (Still here.)
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No matter what trepidation he feels to get into Marian's bed with her a second time (unworthy, ever since he fled from her--), for tonight he is ready to compartmentalize. Fenris walks over to Marian's bed and climbs into it as though it were where he naturally belonged. He looks up at her. To the empty spot by the edge he has left her. It is a concession further still to be the one deeper into the bed where it will be harder for him to flee without waking her.
That he intends to stay.
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It's nothing she hasn't seen before, but if it were any other day she would be flustered and blushing at seeing him bare again, because it brings back the memories of their night of passion - and the few other nights of exchanging heated kisses, before - and yet all she can muster is a strange sort of reverence. He's here, lowering his guard so much to be half-naked in her bed, because she needs him?
She lets out a shaky breath, a knot dislodging from somewhere in her chest, and approaches. Slips under the covers, rolls herself onto her side to face him, and looks at him without any further pretenses that Everything Is Fine. Everything is not fine, but Fenris intends to stay.
Quietly, while the loss and the grief is at the forefront of her heart and mind, she asks: "If I love you, will I lose you, too?"
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Fenris will remain here unclothed, unprotected, unsheltered for as long as Hawke needs him. Even if his own troubles claw at him, he will keep them at bay long enough to assuage hers. Later he can return to his self loathing. His unworthiness. Right now she needs someone and he is all she has chosen to rely on.
So here is where he will be.
When Marian rolls over to face him, Fenris reaches out and clasps one of her hands in his own.
"You did once, and I am still here. I will not promise that I cannot be broken, only that nothing so far has done so. Only that you know my strength in battle and that I will not falter in my duties to protect you and your interests." He is startled to have to admit those words are true. So how can he feel unworthy despite it all? Strange.
"I will have to be stronger than what haunts you. As will you."
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Maybe she can let go of foolish superstitions. The idea that she is going to lose anyone she loves, everyone she loves, because that's what Marian Hawke is good at - it's the only thing she's good at, watching people die and fucking up - is less hers and more the desire demon's. And it wouldn't do for a mage, especially an apostate like her, with so many eyes on her, to slip up and invite possession. Fucking Meredith would love that - the chance to clap her in chains and call for a public execution.
"Saying I did once makes it sound like I ever stopped," she murmurs, and brings his hands closer so she can brush a kiss across his knuckles.
"You know that - it's not a bodyguard that I need, Fenris, it's a friend. Don't fight my battles for me, let me fight our battles together. Side by side."
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He lets her kiss over his knuckles. His chest grows tight for the affection swelling there.
"No. I am wise enough to know that even if I were to try you would only run off anyway. And I could not ask for a more capable cohort when we wade into battle." Even if Marian Hawke is a mage, Fenris knows this to be certain. They fight well together. "But right now, it is alright to allow me to guard you. Until you are well enough again to fight once more."
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The heart is a funny thing. The grief and impotent rage that Hawke feels at this moment is a tidal wave that's swept her under, and yet it's been buoyed by the fact that Fenris feels the same way for her still. And that, that feels lick an ember. A precious one, that Hawke will shelter and protect, as best as she can.
She lets his hands go, brushing her fingertips lightly down the curve of his jaw, and nods. "I trust you." To guard her until she's well enough, to know that she can be well again, and to just exist in silence until the world stops feeling overwhelming.
She'll get better, in time. It's what Hawkes do. The whole family, as a whole - they keep pushing forward. Given that she's the whole family, as a whole, it'll be up to her to push forward. For the night, she lets herself be guarded, switching between silent sobs when the loss springs back to the forefront of her mind, silent numbness, and eventually sleep.
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Eventually she becomes nonverbal. And when she does finally fall asleep Fenris scoots closer and wraps her up in his arms. If she is going to sleep he wants her to get rested, not be plagued by nightmares. What little comfort he can offer her he will.
Owes it to her to try.
It's nearly dawn before Fenris finally dozes off in a light sleep, his chin tucked over Marian's shoulder where he holds her close.
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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."
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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."