#Hawke x Fenris x Isabela | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scarfacemarston · 7 months

Note

saw your post saying that you want ideas for Fenris, so here's my 5 cents;

You know the romance ending for Fenris? Whenever I see it and I hear Varric say "a hero was born" for some reason that makes me think that it is giving us the idea that Fenris has become a dad, soooooo, any thoughts on Fenris as a dad?

Have a good day/night

Hey! I LOVE that idea. Seriously, that is so heartwarming to think of. It's been months since I've written hc and I've never written for Fenris before, but I hope you like it! I have bonus hc's from the crew below the cut. Background: Despite being together for over several years since Act 3 and the fact that they might as well have been married, Varric and crew still found themselves surprised to hear that Fenris and Hawke were pregnant/adopting. "Broody with a Broody Jr on the way? I knew it'd happen at some point; you owe me 50 coppers, Rivani."

If pregnant - Hawke was initially worried Fenris would leave them because of their first night together, but he had proven himself loyal to a fault numerous times, the thought thankfully disrupted quickly.

Fenris is the worrying warrior until after the baby is born, or if adopting, til they bring them home. His mind is always going a mile a minute risk calculation and problem-solving for things that haven't yet happened. Hawke has to get him to snap out of it. He's extremely attentive partially because he tries to think about any possible situation and discomfort and how to avoid it. If Hawke is pregnant, he's ready, whether through ginger tea, soothing balms, hot towels, massages, craving outings, you name it.

It's not original, but the baby would definitely be named Bethany, Leandra, or Malcolm if it's a son. With adoption, he feels a little more in control. (I love the idea of Fenris having a daughter, so that's what I'm using her. Feel free to hc differently!)

The baby loves his voice. Adores it. She perks up whenever Fenris speaks, even if it's the quietest of murmurs or humming. Fenris would talk to the baby if his partner is pregnant, calming her down, especially if she starts kicking.

He doesn't mind getting up in the middle of the night to take care of her. He's lived on such little sleep before, but this was something worth it. He sometimes likes the quiet to reflect on his new life and gaze at the miracle in his arms.

Fenris has to be reminded to put her down sometimes so Hawke can hold her ---then Hawke has to be reminded to put down the baby so they can get work done.

Definitely lots of story time together and time spent reading books together.

He wants his child to be curious about the world and not be afraid to question why things are the way they are. He encourages her to ask difficult questions, even if it's something he doesn't always want to answer. He will try to answer in an age-appropriate manner anyhow.

Incredibly protective. He never thought he'd have a family, and now he has someone who depends on him more than anything. He is never far from her; if he can't chase after them, she's in a playpen where he can keep watch. However, he also tells himself that falling and making mistakes is okay. Scratched knees or messes are to be expected. Fenris becomes very good at toeing the line between being protective and allowing her to pick herself up and figure out solutions "by herself." (Of course, he'll still be there to kiss it better or give her a boost.)

He and Hawke agree that they'd rather gift her love and time than gifts.

Somehow, Fenris has ended up with an extra Malbari, 2 cats, and a goat as pets.

He teaches her a lot of skills, Lots of nature excursions, and teaches her things like navigation, plant identification, starting a fire, and helping her learn a language.

He and Hawke agree to teach her self-defense once she's old enough. He's a firm & thorough but patient teacher.

He and Hawke believe she should do whatever she pleases with her body. Does she want long-flowing hair? He'll show off his braiding skills. Does she want chopped hair like FemHawke? Done.

If she turns out to be a mage, Fenris would accept it. He would know that was a possibility whether she was biologically theirs - because of Hawke's mage line or, if adopted, that it is a randomized gene. He would be lying if he didn't think their lives would be easier if she wasn't a mage - but that is because he is worried for her and the current politics - not so much because of his past treatment of mages. It would take him a little time to process it, but he would love her just the same……….he only hopes that Hawke or one of their friends can help with the magic because turning the floor into an ice rink or the smell of burnt hair can only be tolerated for so long.

Bonus:

The Hawke crew isn't always around, but I like to hear them stay in touch and visit. Maybe they still travel together. I hated the idea of them breaking up.

Varric has most definitely written a few adventures with her in mind - one being a talking animal version of Hawke's adventures. Another about griffons and another about malbari adventurers.

Merrill brings the sweetest gifts and loves telling stories and taking her foraging. Flower crowns are a must.

Isabela develops a liking for stuffed plushies. It started with a stuffed parrot, and before they knew it, the bed was crowded with stuff like Malbari, parrots, griffon, cats, and whatever she could find. Isabela also gives her her first pirate sword. Baby Hawke loves her jewelry.

Aveline - mage or not - offers to train her in combat. Of course, Hawke laughs and says, "She's a baby. I think she's fine for now." She'd offer to babysit - Hawke having a child really has her curious about starting her own family with Donnic when they can find the time. Donnic makes her a set of cards so she can "play" diamondback with them.

Anders offers medical care if he is around and also offers to tutor her in magic - but I think we all know what Fenris' thoughts on that would be. Still, Fenris would begrudgingly be thankful for any care he provided.

#fenris x hawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris x m!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #Dragon age Fenris #fenris dragon age #marian hawke #garrett hawke #varric tethras #dragon age isabela #dragon age merrill #aveline vallen #dragon age anders #da2 #dragon age 2

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bardsexlovers · 3 months

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Isabela: I sleep with a knife under my pillow.

Fenris: Weak. I sleep with two under mine

Varric: You are both pathetic

Fenris: What killer weapon do you sleep with then, prince badass?

Varric: Hawke

#incorrect dragon age 2 #dragon age fenris #dragon age isabela #dragon age varric #hawke x varric

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nova-n-i · 1 year

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- Kirkwall's Slumber Party -

#dragon age 2 #fenris #da2 #dragon age #fenhawke #da fanart #garrett hawke #fenris x hawke #hawke #da isabela

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theluckywizard · 5 months

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Happy dadwc! Let's have "You cannot stain a black coat. -Nicholas Nickelby" from the Dickens prompts, for Kirkwall-era Garrett Hawke?

Thank youuuu! I also incorporated these twin prompts from @about2dance and @bluewren for @dadrunkwriting

This inspired a scene in my MatchmakingMoms!AU where Leandra Hawke and Alsatia Trevelyan are trying to fix up Garrett and Rose, their incorrigible adult children who have no interest in getting fixed up. Context: Dougal is coming to extort more money and effectively interrupted Hawke's introduction to Rose. Hawke is off to deal with him with his friends. WC: 2,211 Characters: Garrett Hawke, Isabela, Fenris, Merrill, Varric, Dougal, Aveline, Anders. Rose Trevelyan, Alsatia Trevelyan and Leandra Hawke are implied. Ship: Garrett Hawke x Aveline Vallen (unrequited)

Striding along the snow dusted streets of Hightown in the clink of his armor and mail, Hawke’s mind bounces between the impertinence of Dougal and the ill-fated introduction he’d just endured. His friends all seem to be waiting for him to say something, unusually short on quips considering everything going on. He glances at them, testing his theory and in spite of their varying moods, their brows all lift inquiringly.

“I don’t know. I mean you saw her. She looked as pinched as every other blazing noblewoman I’ve met, but there was something about her expression—” Hawke says starting right in, swinging along the tidy streets of Hightown toward the lower market where Fenris says Varric is running interference. “She— smirked.”

“She smirked.” Fenris’ flat tone is somehow flatter. Hawke thinks back on her momentarily. Truthfully he couldn’t see well beyond the severity of her coif and gown, but she had pleasant enough face he supposes. He hadn’t been paying much attention until she smirked. And then his friends foisted themselves upon them all.

“Yeah, her smirk. I mean I can’t blame her. I am me. But it was— nice. And… weirdly familiar.”

“Pinched she may be, but that girl’s been plucked,” remarks Isabela with a wry twist of her lips.

“What do you mean she’s been plucked?” asks Merrill. “Because she’s a Rose?”

“Yes, because she’s a Rose,” answers Hawke, grinning stupidly.

“She’s had sex,” hisses Isabela to Merrill.

“Ohhh. How do you know she’s— well— been plucked?” asks Merrill.

“I just know,” smiles the Rivaini.

“Anyway. Surely she and her enterprising mother will take a hint after another day or two and flee back to Ostwick,” says Hawke, rather eager to be rid of the intrusion this first holiday alone. They’re certainly in no need of the audience as he and his mother feel out how to be fabulously wealthy and normal all at once.

“You are humoring your mother,” observes Fenris like it’s the strangest thing. “Couldn’t you tell her no?

“Not this time. The mother’s an old friend. And I’m a sucker for seeing my mother rekindling old friendships after everything. The aren’t many who will associate with her after her infamous flight to Ferelden. Even all these years later. And no amount of gilding will cover up that stain.”

“You’re a good son, Hawke,” says Merrill. “I thought she looked lovely.”

“Yes, my mother is a delight,” teases Hawke.

Merrill smacks him with the back of her hand. “That Rose girl.”

“She was fine I suppose. Nothing that could tempt me outright I don’t think. But fine.”

Dougal and his horde of unwashed brutes loiter restlessly in the Guild Quarter, heavily armed and bearing torches. Varric wisely stands to one side with enough space between him and the gang that he can’t be jumped without pulling Bianca first. Dougal himself is cursed with an unearned sense of confidence, eyes glittering over the warped smile on his face

“You’re only missing pitchforks,” Hawke says with an affable smile.

“We’re missing a little more than that.”

“Says you. We had an agreement,” says Hawke, reaching casually for the weapon of one of Dougal’s henchmen. The young dwarf, not knowing what to do with such a bold, unconcerned incursion, allows it. Hawke inspects it and hands it back to him, ruffling his hand in the hair of the dwarf.

“I’ve seen the spoils of your expedition,” says Dougal. “The lavish estate. The fine furnishings. I think I deserve a larger share of your fortune. Fair is fair, right?”

“I’ll be the last one to say we should have listened to Bartrand,” interjects Varric. “But we should have listened to Bartrand.”

“Isn’t this a conversation we should have had— say— eight months ago?” asks Hawke.

“What can I say. Things have gone poorly for me and I’m a bitter man,” says Dougal, inspecting his stubby fingers.

“So you admit to being a shit investor and then come slithering my way thinking you can make me cough up more?” asks Hawke, his amusement supreme.

“Now you’re getting it,” says Dougal.

“And if I say no?” says Hawke, crossing his arms. He’s already counted the opposition— twelve excluding the man himself who would doubtlessly hide behind his muscle. Daggers and hammers and crossbows. Leather armor at least. He feels a swell of pity for the goons that have fallen in with this slimeball. Most of them are just trying to make it in this town the same way he was. And Maker, he’d really rather not kill anyone tonight of all nights.

“Let’s just say that I’d hate to see something happen to that lovely mother of yours who spends all together too much time alone. A hundred sovereigns and you can make this go away.”

“Extortion’s never really been a favorite of mine, you know,” says Hawke cheerfully, drawing his sword from its sheath on his back. He tosses it lightly in a little show, admiring how the brazier light flashes on each side of the fuller. “But shameless creature that I am, I suppose I’m tough to blackmail. You can’t stain a black coat.”

“A man does what he must,” says Dougal, easy amongst his squad of stabby goobers.

“You’ve already interrupted Hawke’s special day,” says Isabela with her usual wry grin. “Now you’re threatening to kill his mother?”

“Special day?” asks Dougal.

Hawke rolls his eyes lightly. “It’s not that special.”

“Well now you have to tell me,” says the rat.

“If you must know—” Hawke begins.

“Hawke’s mother is trying to set him up with a wife,” finishes Merrill, utterly delighted.

“Oh?” Dougal’s brow arches high and then he laughs, a pitying one that echoes off the cornices and columns until it devolves into wheezes. He clutches his side, recovering himself while his men chuckle along dutifully. “Well it’s a good thing I’m claiming my due now. She’ll drain your coffers dry and run off with the stable boy.”

Hawke snorts at the man's confident advice. “Today is not your day,” he says, smiling as he slips his shield onto his left arm. “Why don’t you let all these nice people head along home to their lovely spouses and fight me head to head like the Maker intended?”

“You and I both know I pay good coin for this back up.”

“Good, is it?” Hawke asks. He turns to the men. “I’ll pay you double this month’s wages to fuck right off right now! Toss in a wheel of cheese for your trouble!”

“You can’t buy their loyalty. They’re all family!” laughs Dougal. “Though maybe you don’t quite understand. I heard you notoriously lost your family during your little expedition.”

“Bold blazing words from an actual turkey. Come on then. Let’s get this over with,” says Hawke stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders in preparation before flipping down his visor. He sees the faint the shimmer of Merrill’s barrier hugging him as he invites the onslaught, pounding on his shield to draw them upon him.

By now his crew is well aware of his distaste for outright murder. He’d seen Varric and Isabela’s precision— pinning culprits to walls with bolts and removing armor with surgical slashes of blades. And Fenris had mercifully learned to execute a relatively delicate little pop on the head when needed. Merrill summons her fantastically freaky tendrils and wraps them up as needed. Hawke is appreciative of their restraint considering.

“I don’t suppose anyone had the forethought to fetch Aveline?” asks Hawke, sending assailants tumbling back with aggravated nudges of his elbow and bashes of his shield.

“Blondie went for her,” says Varric, ducking under a triplet.

“I wish he’d hurry the blazes up,” says Hawke, glancing down at the blood pooling in his mail under his gauntlet. “Fuck.” He shakes his arm out like it might make it feel better and then gets right back to it.

It's Dougal’s numbers versus the eclectic capabilities of Hawke’s crew. The clash carries on long enough that everyone involved starts getting loose and careless in their movements, the early snap of battle settling into a languor as everyone starts hankering after stamina pots and lyrium draughts. Hawke flips his visor up to swipe sweat from his brow.

“So how’d you know this girl anyhow?” asks Dougal, sashaying lightly away from one of Merrill’s grabby vines.

“Daughter of a family friend,” grunts Hawke, shoving one back with the flat of his foot against the poor sod’s stomach. Convenient to be so tall in a fight against dwarves.

“Does she have a nice set of badonkers, at least?” inquires Dougal.

“Acceptable,” remarks Isabela, stepping on her unconscious quarry as she binds his wrists behind him. “Hard to tell underneath those bloody stays that are getting so popular these days.”

“She was perfectly prim,” insists Merrill, cracking the head of a cheeky bastard with her staff.

“You’re all getting ahead of yourselves,” says Hawke, hovering somewhere between exasperation and unbridled laughter. “I have about as much chance of settling down with her as I have sprinting up Viscount’s court in my birthday suit.”

“Hawke,” says Fenris in the simplest challenge.

“Well all right, through the Chantry then.”

“Hawke,” says Isabela, eyebrow raised as she disarms another assailant, kicking their blade far across the stones.

“You don’t really believe that I’d—“

“Hawke,” says Varric, tilting his head in amazement.

“You do something one time!” he grumbles, knocking back the last goon between him and Dougal hard enough that the blighter doesn’t even get up.

“You’re not going to kill me,” says Dougal, backed against a wall. “You’re soft. Effective but soft.”

“You don’t know that,” says Hawke. “Maybe I want to get back to future wife with the badonkers. I’d get there faster if I stuck you with my sword.”

“Everybody knows your soft, Hawke,” says Dougal, dodging the admittedly lazy thrusts of Hawke’s blade. “Maybe if you’d been quicker to kill you wouldn’t have had to make a deal with me.”

“For Maker’s sake,” mutters Hawke, deftly cornering Dougal with renewed fire and squashing him against the wall with the flat of his blade. “Do I talk this much?”

“Yes!” comes the hollered chorus.

“You can’t get rid of me so easy,” says Dougal, glancing at his subdued henchmen. “There’s only two ways to make me go away.”

“Three, actually,” comes a blessed voice from across the yard. The shuffling sound says she came with reinforcements. Dougal’s head falls back in annoyance.

“It’s my word against yours, Hawke,” he spits.

“When’s the last time you did a favor for the Viscount?” Hawke asks with a grin. “Or are you going to extort him too?”

“Not a bad bit of rescuing, if I do say so myself,” says Anders, attending to Fenris who mutters a string of Tevinter curses while a laceration in his side gets a dose of luminescent relief.

Aveline’s guards shackle the ones writhing in pain and check those who have already been trussed up. Hawke asks Anders to work on the most dire of Dougal’s injured goons, eager to relish in being the bigger man.

“Well, Hawke. Can’t say I’ll shed any tears about this one,” says Aveline come alongside Hawke.

He feels a shadow of the same thrill he once got when she came around, but her indifference to him has at last settled permanently within him, the disappointment sticking like a splinter too deep.

“He threatened Mother," says Hawke, "Like a common hoodlum."

“The worst crime of all,” says Aveline with a wry little smile. “Give my best to Leandra.”

“Didn’t you hear? Leandra is hosting Hawke’s future wife,” chimes in Isabela.

“And she’s lovely!” adds Merrill, earnestly excited.

“Future wife, Hawke?” asks Aveline. “Leandra must be beside herself.”

Hawke’s eyes roll deeply back into their sockets. “They’re visiting for the week. An old friend and her daughter. Figure I’ll spend a little extra time down in Lowtown this week.”

“Aw, Hawke. What if she’s nice? You could use a nice girl,” says Aveline

“Like a singing, dancing bogfisher,” gazing at Aveline doubtfully.

She shakes her head at him in that same Maker-forsaken sisterly way she always has, but he has to acknowledge there’s some truth to it. His romantic heart has too long been preoccupied and alone, fixating on an impractical mirage. He daydreams of something. A secret intimacy of terrible jokes and favorite touches. Of lazy mornings and shared investigations. But he doubts the finicky creature who smirked at him once would be the woman for the job. There isn’t space in this life of his for anyone who can’t keep pace with his nonsense.

Hawke glances around at the carnage— a rather tidy victory, he admits— barely a mess for the street sweeps to cope with, and little more than a sweat broken. He remembers the stab wound near his elbow and shakes out his forearm and hand again before downing a mild healing pot and making a note to dress it at home.

“Watch your coffers, Hawke,” warns Dougal with a smirk as he’s hauled away.

“Better hurry on back,” says Aveline again with that same teasing diffidence.

Hawke snorts softly and thanks her for her timely aid. He makes everyone promise to bother him at the Hanged Man later where he’ll be taking refuge from the machinations of his mother and the elder Trevelyan woman.

Varric comes up alongside him and pats his back, fully aware of the long misery that’s in the midst of flickering out at last. “Come on, Chuckles. I’ll walk you home.”

#DA2 #Garrett Hawke #Rose Trevelyan #MatchmakingMoms!AU #DADWC #Fenris #Merrill #Isabela #Varric #Aveline #Anders #DA2 Act 2 #Canon Divergence #Dealing with Dougal #Fighting and Bantering #Theluckywizard #Hawke x Trevelyan #Blue-Purple Hawke

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alltears · 27 days

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dragon age twitter au? dragon age twitter au. HAWKE EDITION

#my post #dragon age #dragon age twt #twitter #meme #da2 #hawke #garrett hawke #marian hawke #fenhawke #fenris #varric tethras #varric x hawke #varhawke #aveline vallen #funny #isabela #carver hawke #bethany hawke

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demigoddessqueens · 2 years

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Hello again :) please could I request headcanons for the dragon age 2 companions and male hawke where they fall in love with carvers ex girlfriend who is half elf :)

Oh sure! 😉

Being Carver’s ex, but the others like you, includes…

Carver’s never going to hear the end of it! He let you go?? He dated you??

Isabela thinks you’re interesting already and is immediately drawn to you. Shamelessly flirting every second

Varric is that dude who ribs Carver but also shamelessly flirts with you too. Planning on what’s going to be in the book he has planned

Fenris and Anders are jealous of you as soon as they see Hawke flirt with you. Like it just radiates off them and you’re quick to piece two and two together.

Needless to say, you’ve got a quick wit too and give them a taste of their own medicine.

They’ll give you this, you’re a good listener and you have a light-hearted nature that is sympathetic to them as well.

But then again your bark is as good as your bite

Aveline and Sebastian are infatuated quickly with you. Always close by, hanging on to every word you’re saying, and sometimes going out of their way to get things you need or want.

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #inbox request #headcanons #dragon age x reader #hawke #dragon age fenris #dragon age anders #dragon age carver #dragon age sebastian #sebastian vael #dragon age isabela #male hawke #varric tethras #dragon age varric #dragon age aveline

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shivunin · 1 year

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10 for the hurt/comfort prompt 💖

10. "It's okay to cry." (I did this for Fenris and Hawke c:) Thank you for the prompt!

(Maria Hawke/Fenris | 1,133 Words | Hurt/Comfort | CW: References to broken bones and blood)

Laugh or Cry

The first time she said it, Fenris had just taken a crushing blow to his leg on the Wounded Coast. The words had, he thought, been intended to take his mind off the pain while she healed him—though as far as he could tell, Hawke had never met a bad joke she didn’t love.

So, while she watched the bones of his leg knit themselves back together, Hawke looked sidelong at him and said it:

“It’s alright to cry, you know.”

“What?” Fenris asked through clenched teeth.

“It’s alright,” she said, “I wouldn’t judge you. Goodness knows I cry over the silliest things all the time. I won’t tell the others, either. Healer’s word.”

“Right,” Fenris replied doubtfully, and she winked at him.

“Your bone density is top notch, you know. I’m sure it all fit together quite nicely before the incident with the warhammer.”

There was a horrible crack from the vicinity of his leg and Fenris gritted his teeth for the wave of pain that was sure to follow—only nothing did. Hawke raised a hand and motes of pale blue spun from it, enveloping the break.

“You’ll be right as rain soon enough,” she said, which might have been reassuring, except she kept talking, “I used to do this for the horses in town, you know. Creatures’ll panic themselves into a heart attack if you aren’t careful.”

“Am I to believe,” Fenris said, passing a hand over his forehead to swipe away the sweat before it could drip into his eyes, “That your primary means of practice was on farm animals?”

“Hmm? Oh, no,” Hawke said, and squinted at something on his leg.

When he moved to sit up, she set her hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back.

“Nothing you’ll want to see,” she said, “You know I was a smuggler for a year, yes? Far more broken bones there than back home. I only meant that horse bones are much more delicate than yours and I had them up and walking again. I’ve healed other bones, too, of course, and all manner of hurts.”

“Of course,” he muttered, and rubbed the shoulder she’d touched to dispel the sensation of her hand against the narrow strip of his bare skin.

But of course that wasn’t the only time; if there was something Hawke loved, it was repeating a foolish joke. So several years later, during an ill-advised visit to some lowbrow theater in Lowtown, she leaned over the armrest between them and repeated it.

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” she whispered directly into his ear. Fenris resisted the urge to lean into the words and shook his head, as if unaffected by it all.

In truth, the actress wailing over her dead lover’s body onstage was little more than background noise. If asked, Fenris likely couldn’t have explained what the play was even about. He’d been distracted for the duration, because for some reason Hawke had chosen to come to this event in a dress Isabela had chosen for her—which meant it draped low in the front and exposed both of her shoulders to the smoky air of the theater.

Hawke’s arms, he had realized when he’d arrived late to their group’s seats, were covered in freckles.

He couldn’t explain why the sight of them had struck him most of all.

“I saved you the aisle seat,” she’d whispered as the lights went down, and Fenris hadn’t even thanked her. He’d just sat there, stiff as a statue, and tried very successfully not to actually turn his head and stare at her.

His self control was better than that.

But not when she leaned over like that to whisper in his ear and the scent of her wrapped around him like—like it had a mind of its own. So:

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” she whispered as the play reached its climax, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Hawke,” he managed, his voice thankfully chiding instead of—of—anything else.

She laughed slightly and angled herself closer so he could hear her over the screech of violins. Against his will, his eyes dropped to her bodice.

Fenedhis, he could see all the way past her cleavage to the swell of her stomach beneath.

Fenris squeezed his eyes shut.

“I know,” she said into his ear, “It’s all very touching. I’m genuinely shocked I haven’t heard you laughing at the thing since that awful bit where they drank out of the boot. Shameless.”

“Shameless,” he repeated, his voice rough even to his own ears, “I couldn’t agree more.”

And then—things changed. Fenris grew closer to her, then too close, botched things horribly, and for a long time kept a very, very careful distance between them.

But Hawke, as they all knew well, could never abandon a lost cause.

So: here they were, later still, fighting side by side on the Wounded Coast again. Lovers, now, and not reluctant allies; and when she fell at his side in battle it hurt far more than a broken leg.

“I will not allow it,” he growled, and raised the blade she’d given him for a blow that would have felled a dragon.

When their foes had fallen and the others began to pick through their pockets, Fenris darted back to her side and tucked his hand beneath her neck.

“Hawke,” he said roughly, smoothing her curls away from her forehead.

Blood had stuck them to her skin; it would be a task to get it all out later. He knew now exactly how much of a task because lately he was the one to rinse it out, to comb out anything still tangled in the strands, to ensure that she went to bed clean and safe and well.

Maria was not even unconscious; just dazed, blinking up at the dull sky. He didn’t like the way her eyes looked, the unfocused way they wandered past his face to the clouds. After a moment, she took a breath and parted her lips.

“Fenris?” she said.

He frowned and leaned closer. Was there something more wrong than he’d thought? Did she need—

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” she said, her voice piteous, her eyes round and entreating, “I won’t tell anyone if you do.”

“Hawke,” he said roughly, and dipped his head to kiss her forehead over and over, speaking in between each touch, “You are an utter fool.”

“No,” she said.

Fenris didn’t much care that he was getting her blood on his mouth—only that she was well enough to make horrible jokes.

“I’m your fool,” she finished, and he huffed.

“As you say,” he murmured, and sat back to offer her another vial, “Drink this and stop your jokes.”

“Never,” she said with a smile, and drank it down.

And Fenris was glad.

#maria hawke #fenris #fenris dragon age #da2 #fenhawke #fenris x hawke #my writing #hurt/comfort #broken bone mention #maria is the most annoying healer ever #she spends the whole time complimenting the worst things #'ooh you know your liver is an exemplary shade? absolutely lovely' (squelch)#isabela sticks her fingers in her ear the whole time but merrill always says thank you afterwards #how else would she know what color her liver is?#and fenris rolls his eyes at her commentary and loves every second obviously #tbh this could easily be one of those 5 and one things but i need to make dinner lol #shivunin scrivening

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