In which FENRIS AND HAWKE FINALLY GET BACK TOGETHER YAYYYYY. 

It is long, and hence this is just an excerpt. Find the full thing here:
tinyurl.com/fenhawke4 (I’m still paranoid about Tumblr hiding external-link posts from searches. Is that still a thing? Does anyone know?)

I’d like to dedicate this to the Fenhawke fam who have been following along: @cutieink , @rhythm-diary , @vythika96 , @lylypuceonarchive , @iarollane , @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul , @barddoc1992, and last but not least, the incredible and supportive @emileoutofit . Love you all!! Astia valla femundis! xo

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Fenris had always been alone.

This was not to say there weren’t other people around. In Minrathous, people were everywhere: a multitude of other slaves, arrogant magisters and simpering soporati trying desperately to gain their favour. Despite the constant presence of other people, Fenris was always alone.

It was the lyrium tattoos. They were glaringly unique, setting him apart from every other slave he’d ever seen. Worst of all, they marked him as Danarius’s favoured slave, and that favour – that hated, abhorrent favour – isolated him more completely than the white lines that marked his skin.

On Seheron, things were different. There was a brief time when Fenris thought he might belong somewhere, that he might find a place among the proud and bold warriors who materialized from the mist in much the same way that Fenris sank in and out of the Fade.

Then Danarius had come for him. And Fenris had killed those proud and bold warriors who’d sheltered him. And he’d realized that he should be alone. He carried death in his skin, harboured it in his hands and in the hatred in his heart, and it was better for him and for everyone else if he kept himself apart.

Then Fenris met Hawke, and Hawke was never alone.

The Fereldan mage liked to travel in a pack. She’d been accompanied by Anders, Aveline and Varric when she and Fenris had first met, and he still remembered his surprise when she’d welcomed him to her little group without a single qualm, despite the freshly eviscerated heart still dripping from his fist.

It wasn’t hard to see why Hawke was never alone. She was a beautiful woman, high-spirited and humorous and charming, and people flocked to her whether she liked it or not.

Fenris was no exception. For years, he spent his days with Hawke and her group. He participated in their card games and he drank with them, and he joined in with their teasing and he fought alongside them. But they were Hawke’s friends, not his.

For years, Fenris spent his evenings with Hawke. In truth, he spent more time with her than he should have; he was a danger, after all, an unknown quantity with a gap in his mind where his memories should be. So when he returned to his mansion each night, when he laid his head down in the dark, Fenris was alone. And that was as it should be.

As time crept on, Fenris came to know who Hawke was. He learned to spot the sadness under her shit-eating grin, and he learned to see the truth behind her self-deprecating jokes. He witnessed her family falling away one by one, and he watched as she attached herself unerringly to her friends, casually building herself a family from her merry band of misfits.

Hawke was never alone, and Fenris understood why. And somewhere along the way, while listening to her cheeky voice and studying her steady smile, Fenris realized that he didn’t want to be alone either.

******************

Fenris paced restlessly in front of the table in his mansion. She’s here, he thought feverishly. After years in the making, years of saving coin and scribbling poorly-penned letters to spies, his sister was finally here.

He should be excited. Everything he’d waited for was almost at hand. So why did this feel… wrong?

He cut a hard look at Aveline. “Are you certain it’s her?”

The Knight-Captain gazed at him wearily. “An elf matching your description, on the ship you named,” she said for the third time. “Alone as far as I could tell.”

Fenris spun toward her and slammed his palms on the table. “I need to know if it’s a trap!” he shouted.

Aveline frowned, then rose from the table. “I did as you asked, Fenris,” she said, her voice flat with censure. “Now it’s up to you.”

“Ooh, I hear some sweet persuasion happening in here.” Hawke’s playful voice drifted into the room, followed closely by the woman herself. She was smiling as always, but her eyes darted sharply between him and Aveline. “I don’t know about you, Aveline, but nothing wins me over quite like Fenris’s seductive shouting.”

“You talk to him, then,” Aveline said to the dark-haired mage. “I’ve had my fill for today.” She shot Fenris a disapproving look as she left his house.

Fenris glared at her departing back, then pounded his fists on the table again. Venhedis. Fasta vass!”

Undaunted by his anger, Hawke sat at the table and propped her chin on her fists. “Ooh yes, cursing in a foreign tongue,” she purred. “More of that, please.”

He scowled at her. “This is not funny,” he snapped. He was more antsy than he’d been in years. His sister was here, apparently safe and apparently alone, but only now was Fenris realizing how complacent he’d gotten over these past three years of relative peace.

It wasn’t right. He’d been careful in his investigations, yes, but Danarius was no fool. Now Fenris was worried that he was the fool for thinking things could go this smoothly. After all, when had anything in his life ever gone as he’d hoped?

Hawke straightened, her cheekiness melting away at his ire. “What’s going on?” she asked.

He forced himself to inhale calmly through his nose, then resumed his nervous pacing. “It’s my sister,” he said. “I didn’t tell you, but I followed up on Hadriana’s information. Everything she said was true. I-”

“You found your sister?” Hawke interrupted. “I always wondered about that! When did you – why didn’t you-?”

He held up a hand to cut her off. “I had to keep it quiet. I didn’t want to be found while making my inquiries,” he explained. “It took… kaffas, it took years, but I eventually contacted Varania and sent her coin enough to come meet me. And now she’s here.”

“You’re joking,” Hawke blurted. “Fenris, that’s amazing! That’s…” She trailed off and studied him shrewdly. “That’s why you were working so much. I knew you couldn’t have that much gambling debt racked up. I always wondered…”

She trailed off, then leaned her elbows eagerly on the table. “Was she in Qarinus all this time, then?”

Fenris shook his head. “I found her in Minrathous. That made things more difficult, but according to the men I paid, it’s just as Hadriana said. She’s not a slave. She’s a tailor, in fact.”

A tailor. Such a normal profession – a humble, normal, non-magical thing to be. To Fenris, it sounded wonderful.

It sounded far too good to be true.

He continued to pace. “Getting a letter to Varania was difficult, and she didn’t believe me at first, but she’s finally… come.” He slowed to a stop and ran an agitated hand through his hair.

“So she’s come from Minrathous, then?” Hawke said. Fenris looked up to find her looking very serious. “If she was there, what if…” She narrowed her eyes. “Do you think Danarius knows you’ve been in touch? I don’t know how big Minrathous is, but…?”

Fenris nodded, feeling both relieved and more worried. If Hawke had the same thought as him, it meant he wasn’t being completely paranoid. But it also made him more convinced that something wasn’t right. “The more it seems he doesn’t know, the more certain I become that he does,” he said.

He gripped his hair tightly until his scalp began to hurt. He’d been holding this close to his chest for years, not wanting Hawke to pity him if his investigations fell flat. He’d wanted to find his sister on his own, rediscover his family and his past without her help for once. But now that the moment was here…

Fenris was scared.

He hated to admit it, but it was true. Despite his impatience for Varania to arrive, he’d never really stopped to imagine what it would be like to see her. To have her look on him, covered in these hated marks – what if she’d been driven away from him because of these marks?

At the back of his mind, Fenris had imagined hearing a story of his past that would vindicate him somehow. But it was more clear than ever how little he knew. If his sister was alive and thriving this whole time, there had to be a good reason he had never heard tell of her, hadn’t there? Some reason they’d been kept apart?

And now that this niggling worry about Danarius has entered his mind…

He placed his palms flat on the table, then took a deep breath. He hated asking for help yet again, but… he didn’t want to do this alone. “Come with me, Hawke,” he said. “She’s staying at the Hanged Man. I need you there when I meet her.”

“Of course,” she said instantly. “Maker’s fucking balls, of course. If you hadn’t asked, I’d have followed you there like a mabari.” She stood from the table and raised her eyebrows. “Do you want to go now? Are you ready?”

Was he ready? He genuinely couldn’t decide. His stomach was roiling, and he couldn’t seem to unclench his jaw. But Hawke’s coppery eyes were steady on his face, and as he returned her gaze, he could feel himself breathing a bit more easily.

Finally he nodded. “Let’s go. I don’t wish to waste any more time.” He strode over to his weapons rack and stored his heaviest greatsword on his back. He turned toward the door, but before he could pull it open, Hawke reached out and placed one hand on his arm. “Fenris-”

He flinched slightly at her touch, then forced himself to relax as she hastily pulled her hand back. “It’ll be all right,” she said. “We’ll bring Aveline for a bit of extra muscle. She’ll be more useful than me if… well, she’ll be good to have along. And Varric will be there to add a little fun to the mix. It’ll be fine.”

Then she smiled. “A family reunion! Those always go so well for our group!” She laughed, then rubbed her face with one hand. “Maker, I’m an idiot. Don’t listen to me. Whatever happens, your sister can’t be worse than Carver before he’s had his morning tea.”

Fenris managed a small smirk. Her terrible attempt at a lighthearted joke was somehow more comforting than her actual comfort. “Come on, Hawke,” he said. He opened the door, then followed her out into the city.