#I love these three I like to think isabela takes Hawke and fenris and sails them around killing slavers
Note
Hi!
From the couples asks, 10, 27, & 36 for Raina+Merrill+Isabela? :3 (and Garret+Fenris, if you wanna!)
Hello there! Thanks for asking and of course I wanna! :3
Here, have a popsicle for remembering Garrett! *handles a homemade frozen peach juice popsicle*
Tis the prompt list
10. Do they share any hobbies or interests? How do these things bring them together?
Raina + Isabela + Merrill.
Raina and Isabela will just dig in in causing shenanigans together. They have fun with each other and will be great in finding all new excuses to do something fun all three together.
I can picture them going to wine degustation just to mess around with people (and enjoy the wine, but causing some shenanigans too). They'll end up being both certificated sommeliers and won't even know how it happened. Or food, and go around to try all new places for street food in Low Town, the fancy restaurant in High Town once in a while, dressing up and playing the big ladies (Raina and Bela, Merrill will be there trying not to laugh at them).
With enough time and assurance that no one will die if she take her eyes off them, Raina will love to travel and explore and just hop on a ship and see new places. She's not afraid of work, she can learn how to sail. It will kinda be something familiar and nice for Merrill as well, travelling with a family of her choosing that wants her there... I think she'll be the one to insist to return to Kirkwall every once in a while to check on things and on the friends they made there as well.
It's always Merrill who insists in quiet evenings at home, reading something all together or just chatting the night away. They'll adopt all sort of cats (Merrill will try to bring home an actual raccoon saying it reminded her of Hawke, but Bela will strongly disagree in keeping that. One human racoon is enough.).
Garrett + Fenris.
Garrett is the quiet sibling, the one that likes to work in the garden and to read. He's down there for the fun and the party at the tavern, but he needs his time alone to recharge batteries every once in a while. Reading together will surely be an activity they'll come to share, for sure!
And listen. Garrett may be a mage, but he's a pretty physical one. The dude never skipped an arm day in his life. And to mantain the strenght to wield a sword as tall as you, there's some training to be done. I'm saying that I picture them as the couple going together at the gym. Or home-gym, very into fitness and stuff, jogging together in the morning with the dog.
Oh, and dogs. They'll adopt one dog after the other, Fenris will try to train him, Garrett will spoil them to no ends, all the mabaris will behave just when Fenris' around.
27. How do they say “I love you” non-verbally?
Raina etc.: Acts of services and quality time. She's a chill person to be with even on unfriendly terms, but if she cares, she'll make space to spend time with you any way she can, even just working in the same environment and saying nothing, but together. She'll buy your groceries and fill your pantry and... It's better she doesn't cook, but the two recipes she knows she will share and cook them for you. Will buy you food.
They're all three people who had lacked some loving care in their life, and they'll provide it for each other. A shoulder to cry on, the quiet presence pushing you to vent it out without judging, arms that hold you while you cry, and taking care of you to give you less and less to worry about.
Garrett: Giving space and just listening when he'll wish to do something else and act his way. Paying attention and minding boundaries, particularly those he doesn't share.
He partially shares the tendency to do stuff for Fenris if he notices he's down, without the same sense of urgency, but what he'll do is offering an understanding ear if he wants to vent. He's better with words than his sister for comforting.
36. How do they feel about having kids? Are they in agreement?
Raina + Merrill + Isabela.
Raina has a strong "I don't want to get pregnant like ever", and is pretty skittish when it comes to children. She helped with the twins, and will say she had enough poop for a lifetime.
I think they all agree that children are not the priority and they're all happy with them and cats.
I am kinda considering them to more or less unwillingly adopt at least one children after a former ask. Basically, some orphan rescued in a mission that stayed with them waiting for Raina to find him a good family.
And then... grew on them all like moss and stayed. Raina was the last one to realise it, of course, child included, and that's the one way she'll accept having kids, probably she would have said no if they started with the idea of adopting them. Like that... She'll love the child to bits and it'll be the most spoiled creature ever.
Garrett + Fenris:
Oh yeah, I can picture them going around and picking up strays and orphans that needs a home. As above, it started more or less casually, they guested one child until they found his mother and decided it hasn't been half bad and they actually could do it... And then wait until the occasion will show up. An elf without his parents rescued from slavers? The alienage is already full, he can stay with them, why not, they can feed a third person.
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Smut ahead for you, Anon! @dadrunkwriting
Fenris x M!Hawke, smut, rated E. ~1800 words.
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It’s become a familiar ritual. The midnight breaking of bread, the spilling of tea, the scent of thickly cut bacon wafting from the kitchen. Card night came and went and now morning creeps in with silent steps. At the head of the massive table, Hawke sits, lordlike and noble, with a soft, warm smile.
Hawke sighs and tilts his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over this,” he murmurs.
Fenris hums and leans in from his own chair, seated to Garrett’s right. “The squabbling of your wayward children?”
Said children duel with butterknives of shiny silver over the last roll in the woven basket. Merrill’s laughter sails through the air with Isabela’s right behind as they spar. They are half a breath from jumping on the table—they’ve done it before—when Orana comes in with another basket of bread and a heavily-laden tray. Varric booms with laughter down the table and Anders cracks a smile. Even Aveline, usually so rigid, grins into her tankard at the drunken way the two descend upon the renewed feast like carrion crows, their tussle temporarily soothed.
“They’ll eat you out of house and home, you know,” Fenris says.
Garrett only laughs. “It’s theirs to have, of course. What’s mine is yours, and all that. What good is having all this house if I can’t share it with the people I…”
Fenris glances up to find a faint blush staining Garrett’s cheeks. Something warm stirs in his middle. He reaches for his wine to distract himself from the heat growing on his own face.
“...with my friends,” Garrett finishes lamely. He gives a minute shake of his head. “Anyway! I have more money than the Maker and a house too big to do anything with. What else could I do with it? I have half a mind to clear out the bedrooms and ask—”
Hawke stops, cutting himself off, and busies himself with his own wine. “Never mind,” he says, so soft Fenris can barely hear it.
Fenris turns back to his dinner, something he cannot bear to give a name making its home in his chest.
=
By the time their midnight feast runs out, even Aveline wobbles when she stands. Hawke ushers his drunken friends toward the door with well-wishes and laughter, and Merrill draws Hawke into a hug so powerful in its caring that Fenris has to look away.
Their midnight dinners might be a ritual, but the way Hawke’s gaze rests on Fenris’ face when Garrett turns back to him still scalds over his skin.
“...would you care to stay for another glass?” Hawke asks, hesitant. He finds a mostly-full bottle of wine, not a small miracle.
Fenris gingerly nods, even as he says, “I shouldn’t impose.”
“It’s not an imposition, I promise.”
This is unfortunately familiar, too, the uncertain back-and-forth of ”would you”s and the answering ”I shouldn’t”s, batted between them in the small hours of the morning. Hawke shouldn’t offer, but he always does; Fenris shouldn’t accept, but he always agrees. For the last three years, since their one agonizing, beautiful night together, it’s been this way.
Fenris doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he clutches his tankard like a lifeline when Hawke closes in with careful steps and fills it with a rich red. Garrett’s hand trembles a little as he pours.
They take to the plush sofas of the sitting room. Garrett adds a log to the fire before sitting beside him, ever mindful of Fenris’ appreciation of the warmth in the cold Kirkwall climate. Orana and Bodahn have long since gone to bed, leaving them alone, sitting beside each other, just barely not touching.
It’s… nerve-wracking.
He doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
“What are we doing, Fenris?” Garrett asks. He’s staring at the fire when Fenris turns to him, surprised. “The—this.” He gestures between them weakly. “All of this.”
“I don’t… Hawke…”
The hesitation stretches, crystal-fragile between them, neither moving, neither speaking. Garrett finally takes a long drink from his tankard. “Never mind, it’s a stupid thought. The wine must be going to my head.”
Fenris sets his wine on the nearby end table and turns, tucking himself into the arm of the couch to study Garrett’s profile. “I don’t know,” he admits, quiet. “I’ve never done this before, not like this.”
“You’ve never—right, right. Of course. I’m sorry.” Garrett scrubs a hand down his face and scratches idly at his bearded jaw. “You’re a good friend, Fenris.”
Even Fenris can hear that’s not what Hawke means to say. He just doesn’t know what to <i>do</i> with that.
“I’m sorry for wanting,” Garrett murmurs into his wine. “I’m trying to… be better about it. I don’t mean to pressure you, or to ask for anything you cannot give.” He tips back the rest of his drink and clears his throat. “Thank you for your patience with me.”
“Hawke.” Fenris sighs, and something in him shifts, breaks open. “Garrett, look at me.”
Garrett’s dark eyes are red-rimmed when he looks up, and Fenris feels it like a punch to the gut. Fenris uncurls from his position and reaches his hand out to where Garrett’s sits, stiff and still as marble on the back of the couch. He tentatively twines their fingers together—loose, giving himself the opportunity to back away, even though he knows Hawke wouldn’t keep him.
“I… I do care for you. Deeply. I just…”
Garrett looks at him with something inscrutable in his eyes before dropping his gaze to their linked hands. “You said it hurt, last time,” he says lowly. “Touch. Being… being there.” Garrett takes in a dragging breath. “Being with me.”
Fenris nods and worries his lip. “It did. It does,” he amends. “But…” <i>But you make it easier,</i> he wants to say. <You make things easy for me, in all ways.</i>
“But…?”
Fenris raises his other hand to card through Garrett’s beard, cupping his chin. He scoots forward and presses his lips to Hawke’s, whisper-soft.
But it’s all wrong. Hawke stiffens again beneath him, unyielding.
“Garrett,” he tries. “Do you not… want?”
Garrett’s breath shakes out of his chest in wobbly puffs. “Maker, Fenris, of course I want, but I can’t—I can’t ask that of you, not because I want something from you. How would I be any better than them?”
“Them—who?”
“The—the magisters. You’ve told me—you said that they —”
Fenris’ heart thunders in his chest. “You’re not like them,” he says fiercely. He gnashes his teeth and tightens his fingers where their hands are still interlaced. “You are nothing like them, Garrett Hawke. I am my own and no one else’s—and I will do what I wish with my own body and mind.”
When Fenris kisses Hawke again, Garrett still hesitates, but soon blooms beneath him, his big hand unerringly finding Fenris’ waist. He leans back against his arm of the sofa so that Fenris can crawl into his lap properly. Fenris drinks in the low moan that pours from Hawke’s mouth.
“Fenris,” Garrett gasps. Fenris swallows that down, too, licking into Garrett’s mouth with a ferocity that surprises even himself.
He can feel Garrett growing hard beneath him. It’s a heady feeling, this, that after three years Garrett still wants him. That, after denying himself of Garrett’s company in this way, Fenris still wants to hear every groan, every mutter, every gasp. That Fenris wants to be wanted by him.
The reaction of his body doesn’t scare Fenris in the ways it did before.
Fenris grinds down against the tenting line of Garrett’s cock. A red-hot shiver trips up his spine.
“You’re beautiful,” Garrett murmurs against his lips. His mouth trails down Fenris’ jaw to nip down his throat. “Glowing. Should I be worried?”
Fenris chuckles darkly. “Have you done anything to warrant my displeasure?”
“Void, I hope not—you already have my heart as is.”
They still, together. Fenris pulls back to look Garrett in the eye, watches the flush crawl up Garrett’s neck to paint his face.
“Garrett—”
“I mean it. You don’t have to say it back—I don’t expect anything from you—but you deserve to know. I love you, Fenris.”
“I—” Fenris growls and dives back in for a kiss, biting his way to claim Garrett’s mouth in filthy possession. “Pants, off. Now.”
“We could go to the be—”
”Now.”
Garrett groans and shuffles, untying the belt at his waist. Fenris helps with deft fingers and together they manage to get Hawke’s pants down his thighs. Garrett’s cock bobs against his lower belly and Fenris rubs against it to the sound of his moaning, the thin fabric of his leggings no barrier for the heat of Garrett’s skin.
Fenris licks a bead of sweat that trails down Garrett’s neck. Bitten off curses fall from Garrett’s lips to catch between them. Fenris snakes his hand down to slide down Hawke’s heaving belly, trails his fingers through the growing pearls of precome that dot his skin. He teases his fingers over Garrett’s twitching cock.
“Fen, Fen, oh fucking void.”
“Say it again.”
“Wha—Fenris, I love you.”
Fenris closes his hand around Garrett’s cock, thumbing at the slick head. “Again.” He pulls his fist slowly, making Garrett buck his hips into the tight circle of his fingers.
“I—haaa—love you, I lo—” He lapses into a low moan and paws at Fenris’ back, pulling him closer. Garrett presses sloppy kisses along the sharp line of Fenris’ throat. “Please,” he begs, nuzzling along Fenris’ skin. His teeth scrape into the hollow behind Fenris’ ear. “Please.”
Fenris lifts up to wriggle his own leggings down, just low enough to release his own cock from the tight confines of his leathers. He reaches for Garrett’s hand and wraps it around them both, lacing their fingers together.
“Again,” he murmurs, pressing the word into Garrett’s mouth.
Fenris rides the bucking of Garrett’s hips, leading their joined hands into slow, tight strokes. Precome blurts from both of them to ease the glide, and Fenris’ blood boils at the sight. He ruts into their combined grip, sliding along Garrett’s thick shaft.
“Fen—Fenris, I’m gonna—love—”
Garrett comes with a keening cry that Fenris can’t swallow in time; the noise fills the room and Garrett writhes beneath him, quick, hard rolls of his hips that have Fenris following soon behind. They collapse into a heaving puddle of limbs and barely-shed clothes, come spattered between them.
“Now,” Fenris huffs into Garrett’s ear, once he catches his breath, ”now you may take me to bed.”
Garrett laughs, his belly flexing against Fenris’ softening cock and stirring renewed interest. “Brace yourself,” is the only warning Fenris gets before being lifted, ass bare to the world. Their laughter mingles as Garrett hastens toward the stairs.
===
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#da drunk writing circle#fenris#hawke#hawris#fenhawke#garrett hawke#m!hawke#rated: e#smutty literature#prompt fills#soulrebel writes#anonymous
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Fly Away, Chapter 12 Preview?
This was cut from the chapter I just posted earlier today, but I like it, so I think it’s going at the beginning of the next! Hopefully that one doesn’t take me another 6 months to polish up...but in case it gets cut again, HERE! HAVE SOME OF MY MESS!
Context: Merrill, Isabela, and Hawke have just gone out for the first time in a month because they’ve been sailing around as fugitives post-DA2. Fenris has also not been drinking much because the wine they had on the ship was crap. But he apparently found something he liked...(I actually really like port, but there’s a reason they serve it in cute tiny glasses...and this was inspired by a fancy dinner with my MIL, who didn’t quite understand that...)
...
“Oh thank the Maker you’re back!” Varric huffed as Isabela led the search for late-night snacks into the galley.
“What happened?” Isabela asked, looking around for any sign of intruders or a fight.
“Not you…”
“Huh?”
“Hawke...come and get this drunken idiot!”
Fenris slowly looked up from where he’d been sitting with his head down at the other end of the table. “...Hawke?” He looked like he was struggling to support the weight of his own face, let alone the rest of him.
“We were just playing Diamondback and he was drinking this…” Varric nudged the bottle toward Isabela with his elbow. It was unlabelled, but it looked just like any of the other wine bottles they’d found on board.
Isabela took a swig. “Ugh!” she grunted in disgust. “That’s not wine! It’s Antivan port…it has like, triple the alcohol content. Where did you find this?”
“In the cabinet…” Fenris muttered, setting his head back down on the table. “The one Hawke and I found the night she told me she loved me…oh Hawke!” He struggled to lift his head back up again. “You’re back...” he giggled.
Hawke felt her insides churn at the sound of it. She’d heard that giggle before...but he’d been asleep, dreaming about her, and Anders, and their children. Not drunk. She wondered if she might ever get a chance to hear it when he was awake and sober.
“Castillon probably kept it around as a tonic for head colds. A couple sips, and it’ll knock your ass right out, along with whatever ails you.”
“Well, he chugged half the bottle,” Varric informed her.
“Mmm…” Fenris mumbled. “It tasted like wine candy…”
“Oh, hun,” Isabela was shaking her head at him. “Your sweet tooth!”
“Is he going to be alright?” Hawke asked.
“No…” Fenris groaned.
“Yes. But I don’t know how he’s still conscious.”
“...festis bei umo canavarum!”
Isabela tried hard to stifle her own laughter, while Merrill’s eyes grew wide with concern. Varric just shook his head.
“Um, what?” Hawke asked.
“Nevermind…” Varric stood up and prepared to heave one of Fenris’ arms over his shoulder. “He insisted on waiting up for you, and now that you’re back...”
Fenris swatted him away, nearly falling to the floor in the process. “For Hawke! I have to wait for her. I promised Aveline…and I already failed the mage...”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah...well, look! Here she is! Time for bed, elf!”
“I don’t want to go to bed with you, dwarf!” Fenris hissed, trying to kick him even further away and missing him by three whole feet as he fell to the floor in a mess of limbs flailing in slow-motion.
“Not this again…” Varric threw his hands up in the air and stomped off toward his room.
“Hawke?” Fenris called out from the floor.
Isabela wasn’t even trying to hide her laughter anymore.
“Yes. I’m still here.”
“You’re back! I was so worried…”
“Oh, how sweet!” Merrill finally blurted out.
“I’m fine, Fenris. We’re fine. You, on the other hand…”
“Not fine…” Fenris shook his head groggily from side to side as he tried to stand up.
“No. It certainly doesn’t seem like it.” She was doing a much better job of not laughing at him than Isabela, who was nearly doubled over. “Would you like to lay down in a bed instead of on the floor?”
“Yes. With you. Please?”
Hawke blushed. She knew what he meant. Just sleeping. But she knew how the others would take it.
Isabela guffawed all over again, and Merrill was still beaming at them.
“You got this, hun!” Isabela winked, as Hawke helped Fenris up and then allowed him to slump half-conscious against her side.
She gave her one last exasperated glare before leading him toward their room.
“Poor Fenris…” Merrill lamented, tucking an arm around Isabela’s elbow.
“He’ll be fine…” Isabela turned to her, a giant smile plastered across her face. “It’s fucking adorable, isn’t it?”
“Yes!”
“I really hope they don’t fuck it up…”
“They’ve already managed to make it through so many other horrible things. I don’t think they will.”
Isabela wrapped her arm around Merrill’s waist. “C’mon...let’s go to bed.”
...
#dragon age#fly away#WIP#Lost and Found DA2 endgame canon divergence#literal ship fic#fenris#hawke#varric#isabela#merrill#port wine#cw drunkenness#my writing#long post
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What are your top 5 DA ships and can you tell me why?
Hi there :) Ok, thiswas a tough one…so here it goes:
1) Fenders
Ok, this one’s easy, Fenders is my all-time favourite DA ship. Both characters mean a lotto me, and I love what they could be together. They truly are more alike thanthey think; there is just so much potential.They have a lot in common, not just when it comes to similarities in theirrespective pasts, they also have similar struggles with self-worth, a desperateneed to be loved (while at the same time being afraid of it); they both feelvery deeply, are stubborn and blunt to the point of being rude and althoughthey express it in different ways, even their sense of humour is similar. In away, they are both giant dorks. They could have a lot of fun together, and Ifeel the parallels in their backgrounds could help them understand each otherin a unique way – if they manage toactually listen to each other. Because yeah, their in-game relationship is(mostly) horrible; they start off on the wrong foot, and it only goes downhillfrom there. While there are some banters where one of them tries to reach out,they keep misinterpreting each other’s intentions, until they are so set intheir ways that there’s more or less nothing left but lashing out. Some oftheir behaviour makes sense for theircharacters/situation, but in many cases, Bioware played it up to ridiculousextremes, to the point where it’s rivalry at all costs, with the two of them beingreduced to mouthpieces for Templars/mages. Which is extremely frustratingconsidering the story spans over seven years (you know, general “let’s pitoppressed people against each other” frustration aside). I find it very hard tobelieve that in all that time, they never manage to have even one non-hostile,genuine conversation. They could have done so much more with these two; there’sso much wasted potential, and I love exploring all the ways things could have gone. I love charactersovercoming differences, realizing misconceptions and how much they have incommon, and one of my favourite things istheir bantering dynamic intact but turned affectionate, still poking each otherwith dry humour and fond teasing. Also, thesetwo teaming up would be a nightmare for their friends - they’d be unstoppable.
2) Fenhawke
Funnily enough, as much as I love Fenders, I didn’t evenconsider it as a pairing the first time I played DA2; I completely fell in lovewith the Fenhawke romance. I don’t read that much fic about it these days, butit’s still a close second. Seeing Fenris heal and grow, taking back his life -there’s a power to it that I just can’t resist, and the dynamic with a Hawkewho truly supports him, listens to him and takes him seriously is simplybeautiful. I love the way he reacts to Hawke, his shy little giggles and jokes, how he comes to trust Hawkedespite never having known friendship or love – and most of all, I love that heallows himself the time to heal. I know some people dislike the three-yearbreak in the relationship, and the distress he’s in after his memories cameback truly is hard to watch, but that he takes a step back and says “no, thisis too fast, I’m not ready for this” is actually one of my favourite things aboutit. I also really like that he doesn’t immediately move in with Hawke, becauseas beautiful as the romance is, they are some “you are my only friend and themost important thing in my life” tendencies in the dialogue that have thepotential to be really unhealthy, which makes the fact that he has come tovalue his independence enough to realize that and try to take precautions especiallyimportant to me. Also, the fucking puppy eyes. They shouldn’t be so effective,but the way he looks at Hawke, his face is just so expressive…there’s just somethingabout Fenris that makes me want to see him happy and loved.
3) Merribela
I just love their dynamic, everything about their banter,from Isabela teaching Merrill cheatingand body shots to Merrill’s excited questions about Isabela’s life as a pirate,and I love that Isabela is so protective of Merrill, but that she is alsopretty much the only companion whorespects her and realizes how smart and capable she is. They have such abeautiful relationship, and I really wish Bioware had made them canon. I knowthere’s Carver/Merrill and Fenris/Isabela instead, and I actually do reallylike those pairings too, but there’s something about Isabela and Merrill thatjust really stands out to me. Both of them are such wonderful, complexcharacters, and both tend to be underappreciated by their friends; Isabela isconsidered selfish and shallow, while Merrill gets waved off as naïve andstupid, none of which is even remotely true. But Merrill and Isabela supporteach other, without judgement, and cometo understand each other despite coming from very different backgrounds. I justwant them to see them together, happy and in love, sailing away and shankingpeople.
4) Handers
I am not that fondof the in-game version of the romance, mainly because it’s pretty obvious Biowaretried to frame it as a tragedy - which to be clear, I don’t think it is at all.As far as I’m concerned, the fact that Anders has his own convictions and goalsand Hawke is not always his numberone priority is what makes it one of the best romances there is; it’s notsomething Anders needs to apologise for,it’s exactly how it should be. I also firmly support the Chantry boom, and needlessto say, any Hawke I ship with Anders is fiercely,uncompromisingly pro-mage and would have gladly blown up the chantrythemselves. And I just love Anders realising that, that Hawke truly supportshim, that they will stay with him - he can’t believe it at first and it’s so heartbreaking, but it also makes it all the morebeautiful when it turns out that yes, he is loved, he does deserve it, mages are people, they deserve to be free andsomeone believes in that as fiercely as he does. So I might not be that happywith how the romance is treated in game (among other things, Anders doesn’teven get an endgame kiss unless you rivalmancehim, which: no, absolutely not), but when it comes to fics, I loverevolutionary couple Anders and Hawke running off together, freeing mages and giving the Chantry all the middlefingers, because Anders was right, and he deserves to be loved by someone whowholeheartedly, 100% supports his cause.
5) Zevran x Warden
Turns out the top four were pretty easy, but I really hadtrouble deciding on the fifth. There was some strong competition, in particular, Isabela/Hawke or Leliana/Warden,but I’m gonna go with Zevran/Warden here because as my very first DA romance, Zevranwill always hold a special place in my heart. While I generally prefer theatmosphere and group dynamic of DA2, I absolutely adore his character andromance arc, and I just want him to be happy, travelling/livingwith the warden, murdering crows, knowing he is loved.
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The High Seas
Here’s a little drabble about Isabela taking Hawke and Saravh (Aveline’s adopted daughter) out for a sail :’)
——
“Isabela!” Hawke grins at her. “You’ve…gone grey!”
“I know! Don’t I look dignified?” Isabela tosses her hair and grins back. She hasn’t gone grey, exactly, but there are thin silver strands weaving through those familiar waves of black.
“And you must be Saravh.” Isabela sidesteps Hawke. “I’m so glad to meet you. Can I give you a hug?”
Saravh nods shyly and they embrace.
"Lovely day, isn't it?" Hawke shades his eyes, squinting. The sun is brilliant, throwing its shattered-glass reflection over the choppy seas.
"It is lovely. And windy, too. I think we'll have fun out there." Isabela gestures. "Come on, I tied up over here."
Hawke follows her down the dinghy pier. To one side there's a small single-sail boat, half-rigged; the end of the boom rests on the floor of the boat next to the keel and rudder. He climbs in first, doing his best to stay low. Would be embarrassing if he managed to tip the thing over while they were still docked.
Isabela is next and helps Saravh board. "So, have you ever sailed before?"
"When I was really young. But not since—not since I came here."
"Then we'll just have to teach you."
"Hey, what about me?" Hawke says, mildly put out.
Isabela shrugs. "You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks."
"I'm not old—”
"Oh really? Because I'm not the only one going grey."
Hawke touches his beard self-consciously. It's not very apparent yet but she...isn't wrong.
“I don’t think you’re old, Uncle Hawke!” Saravh pipes up.
“Oh, please.” Isabela rolls her eyes. “There’s no need to flatter him, his ego’s big enough already. Now first we put in the rudder, then the keel..."
When they've done that Saravh hoists the mainsail, grasping the rope and yanking, the metal block squeaking as the sail and boom rise. "Perfect!" Isabela claps. "Hawke, untie us, would you?"
Hawke undoes the line from the pier and shoves them off, he and Saravh taking their seats with Isabela on the windward side of the boat. Isabela angles the tiller to point them out toward the open sea. "Oh—one very important thing," she says, pulling in the mainsheet. "When we turn through the wind, the boom's going to swing across the boat and you'll need to switch sides. And also duck."
Hawke eyes the boom. It might go over Saravh’s head, but it’ll never go over his. Well, it’s a good thing he’s still flexible.
Isabela takes them at a moderate speed, the boat bouncing a little on the chop. Her fingers are light on the rudder as she holds them on a line out of the harbor. She and Hawke have been exchanging letters but he’s sure there’s a few things she’s kept for today to be exercised through her own special brand of storytelling. “So,” Hawke says casually. “Anything interesting happen since your last letter?”
A devilish grin appears on her face. “Do you remember that woman I told you about? The one who goes by ‘the Bronto?’”
Hawke straightens quickly. “Er, let’s remember to try and keep things clean, Saravh’s only fourteen, after all.”
“Mm.” Isabela nods in thought. “Well, just a couple of days after I sent you that letter I persuaded her to join my crew and that very night she boarded my ship. Ever since then she’s been swabbing my decks—excellently, I might add, she’s got very strong arms—“
Hawke rests his head in his hands. He did try; if this gets back to Aveline he’ll at least be able to enter a plea of innocence with honesty. Isabela is still going. “—cleaning my cannons, plugging my breaches, scrubbing my keel…pumping my bilge…hm, that one’s not very good, is it—“
Hawke seizes the chance to interrupt. “Good! I’m glad she’s a—hard worker.” It’s too late, of course. Saravh is giggling madly.
But Isabela desists, having had her fun, and Saravh is wide-eyed at her stories of adventure on the high seas. Even Hawke is impressed; he’d heard Estwatch was nearly destroyed in a terrible storm last month but Isabela describes how she sailed through it to escape an Antivan nobleman’s fleet. Hawke sort of wishes he’d seen it. He’s not especially fond of the open sea but he is fond of Isabela, and it surely would have been something to watch her iron command bear her crew through a storm like that one.
"But how about you?" Isabela asks. They're out on the sound now, and the wind is good; she points them toward the Wounded Coast. "They teach you anything good at the...what do they call it now?"
"The College of Enchanters," Saravh says, and shrugs. "Some of it's good. They've hired a seer, I like her magic. The rest...I don't know. Everyone seems to be doing better than I am. I can't put together a decent fireball for the life of me."
Isabela waves a hand, the tail of the mainsheet flopping off it. "Fireballs are terribly obvious. Much better to stab your enemies in the dark and then slip away unnoticed."
Hawke nods, gazing off the stern. "Have no fear, I completely agree."
"Oh! Have you been teaching her to stab people!"
"Isabela, please. What sort of uncle would I be if I didn't?"
A guffaw. "Bet Aveline's thrilled about that one."
"She doesn't mind," Saravh says. "Well, the part about stabbing. Some of the other things..."
"Listen, pickpocketing has perfectly legitimate applications," Hawke asserts.
Isabela lets out a wistful sigh. "A cutpurse who can cast spells...say, Saravh, have you ever dreamt of sailing the high seas?"
Hawke feels he should say something but is too busy squinting past the stern. The presence of the boat isn't the problem, it's been gaining on them and is quite visible now; it's the colors he strains to see, if there are any. "Er—Isabela?"
She looks up. "Hm?"
"Are we expecting company?"
She swivels, a frown replacing the good humor on her face. “Hawke, hold this.”
She hands him the mainsheet, and he pulls it just a little tighter, their wind blowing past them just a little quicker. With one hand Isabela plucks the telescope from her belt and shunts it open, holding it up to her eye. Saravh sits gripping the gunwale, apprehensive.
“Shit,” Isabela mutters. “That evil little bastard.”
“What?” Hawke asks. “What’s happened?”
“D’you remember that Antivan noble I mentioned? The one I had to sail through a storm to escape from?”
“Yes?”
“Well, it seems I didn’t shake him after all. The skipper on that boat’s one of his officers. I’d recognize that mustache anywhere.”
Hawke heaves a sigh. “And now they’re after you. Us.”
“That they are. And we’re not going to outrun them, this thing’s a bit of a bathtub and anyways, they’ve got a jib.”
“Hm. Don’t suppose you’ve got a bow and arrow on board?”
Isabela snorts. “In this wind? Really?”
“Right,” he mumbles. Stupid idea. Already a stiff breeze over the water, and with the headwind…
“They’re catching up,” Saravh says quietly.
Isabela takes the mainsheet back, still holding it loosely, and pushes the tiller away, the boat swiveling until they’re almost perpendicular to the wind. “All right, you two. See that rope?” She points at the rope running along the floor of the boat. “Stick your feet under it and get ready to lean back as hard as you can.”
Hawke shoves his boots beneath the thick, woven braid, Saravh doing the same; then Isabela yanks the mainsheet in hard, dragging the boom to the center of the boat. The sail tautens, straining full of wind.
The boat rolls fast leeward, Hawke finding himself rising into the air. Reflexively he hurls his weight back, feet still anchored by the rope, body leaning out over the spray. Saravh is right beside him, and Isabela as well. The boat shoots forward, racing over the water, the three of them counterbalancing wind-taut sails.
“All right!” Isabela shouts. “I think I’ve got an idea!”
Peering back, Hawke sees their pursuers' boat also up nearly on its side, the crew hiking out just as they are. And still gaining. "Talk fast!"
"Well, we've got a mage on board, haven't we?"
Oh no. "She's fourteen!"
“Exactly! I’m not a kid anymore!“ Saravh shouts over the wind. "But—I don't know anything of use! Just hedge magic!"
Isabela is quiet for a moment, thinking. Then: "Hedge magic? Can you do illusions?"
"Er—yes?"
"Good. From how far?"
"Not far. Forty feet? Fifty?”
"Right. When they catch up to us, I want you to create an illusion that'll make their skipper drop his line and tiller. Can you do that?"
"I—the boat's moving, I—" She breaks off, frustrated, then nods. "Yes. I'll do it."
"That's my girl. Keep holding on, you two, we have to do this at speed."
The other boat is catching up. Hawke sees them, their dirty white sails tight with wind, slicing over the glittering water. He can feel it when Isabela lets up on the mainsheet to allow them to close, how he mustn't lean out quite so hard anymore over the spray. His shirt's going to be crusty with salt after this.
"I think they're close enough!" Saravh shouts. "I'm going to try!"
She reaches out.
Maybe a spot of turbulence in the headwind, maybe nothing; Hawke can't sense magic the way Fenris can. But her arms weave as if sifting sand. "Oh, bugger me," she mumbles. Whoops. Aveline wouldn't like hearing that. Their pursuers are closing fast. The skipper and two crewmen. One of them brandishes a spear.
"Anytime now, kitten!" Isabela calls.
"I'm sorry, I'm trying! Everything’s moving, it's hard—"
"Saravh." Hawke leans in. "Remember what we've talked about. Prepare, then attack."
"Yes. Right." She steels herself, dark eyes fixed on the second boat. The advice was really supposed to be about traps and assassinations and that sort of thing, but he hopes it's applicable here too. Hawke watches their pursuers and wishes there were literally anything he could do, but somehow his wide array of skills is useless here. Bloody infuriating. The distance is disappearing fast. Fifteen yards. Ten. The spearman, still hiking over the side of the boat, raises his weapon. Hawke gets ready to throw his body over Isabela’s.
Saravh appears on the enemy craft, wielding the black steel dagger Hawke gave her for her birthday. Swiftly she stabs it into the skipper’s chest. The man lets out a surprised squeal and releases the tiller and mainsheet, grabbing the wound—
With no tension on it the boom snaps out, the boat instantly crashing down and rolling hard windward. The gunwale plunges down below the surface, dumping the crew into the water. They come up a second later, gasping for air, but—Hawke grins—the boat is well and truly capsized, the sail laying flat on the choppy surface.
But something is wrong. He counts the heads vanishing fast behind them—one, two, three, four—
“Hawke, duck!” Isabela shouts as the boat swivels.
Hawke looks up just in time for the boom to clock him in the forehead. He flails back but manages to grab onto the gunwale and throw himself forward, scrambling to the other side of the boat.
Aveline’s really going to kill him.
She must have fallen while she was casting the illusion, her focus elsewhere. Hawke peers ahead of them, Isabela pointing them back in the direction they came. Saravh is there, trying to swim away from the Antivan crew; but they’re bigger than her, plain and simple, and she screams as the skipper grabs her ankle. Almost there. Hawke leans over the side, reaching.
He gets Saravh by the arm and grabs her so hard he’s sure it’ll bruise, heaving her with all his might back into the boat. But she only makes it halfway, her lower body still hanging off with the furious skipper still latched onto her ankle. Saravh shouts, “Get off me!” and kicks him in the face, but he holds on, cursing her in Antivan.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Hawke growls, and wraps one arm firmly around Saravh’s ribs, hugging her to him. Then, bracing himself against the gunwale, he lifts his heel and slams it down on the skipper’s nose.
A satisfying crunch under his boot. The skipper lets go and floats away behind them. Hawke drags Saravh all the way into the boat. She’s soaked and panting for breath.
Nobody says anything for a few moments, the only sound the hiss of sea-spray, the thudding of the boat over the chop. Hawke realizes he’s still squeezing Saravh’s ribs and lets her go. She slumps back against him. Cold water starts to bleed through his shirt.
“Well!” Isabela says brightly. “That was exciting!”
An unexpected giggle from the region of his chest. He looks down. Saravh is grinning. “Yeah, it was.”
Hawke groans. “You almost got taken hostage. Or drowned.”
“But I didn’t!”
Isabela guffaws. “Oh, I know who she got that from. And it’s not Aveline.”
“That reminds me,” Hawke says. “Saravh, please don’t tell your mother about this. I’m supposed to be responsible for your safety.”
She shrugs. “Well, you’ve done a shit job, ain’t you?”
Hawke sighs airily. That’s what he gets for teaching her swears.
They return along the coast, going at a more leisurely speed. Saravh is still soaked to the bone, and Hawke hugs her so the wind doesn’t chill her. There’s a goose-egg growing on his forehead where the boom got him.
“I’m sorry,” Isabela says finally. “That was supposed to be just my problem. But it turned into our problem.”
“It’s all right,” Saravh answers. “What am I learning magic for if I’m not going to use it to help people?”
Isabela grins. “Now that sounds like Aveline.”
“Not just her! Uncle Hawke and Uncle Fenris have helped a lot of people too. And so did you, they’ve told me stories.”
Isabela blinks, silent for a moment; then she smiles, stretching her legs out. “Well, I’m not robbing people all the time, it’s true.”
“Maybe I’ll be a pirate when I grow up—“
“No,” Hawke says.
Saravh pouts. “What about a good pirate?”
“No.”
“You’re no fun. You’re just like Mum.”
Isabela leans in and whispers, “If you ever want to sail the high seas, my ship always has space for stowaways.”
“Isabela.”
“It builds character!”
Hawke heaves a long sigh. “Fine. As long as you tell your mother I had nothing to do with it.”
“Thanks, Uncle Hawke!” Saravh wraps her arms around him and squeezes as they approach the port.
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Fenhanders Week Saturday, 8th
“Saturday, 8th - Let’s Grow Old Together - What does the end look like? Where did the trio end up? This is a time for some angst and goodbyes. Tissues suggested.”
Fenhanders (angst, character deaths, 1560 words)
Read on AO3
Anders keeps fussing over him, pretending that everything’s alright. Trying to spare him the pain. He thinks Fenris doesn’t know he’s been hearing it, thinks he doesn’t know how afraid he is. And how brave. For him. Foolish mage.
Hawke is smiling, even though he can tell that inside, she is crying. For him. Foolish woman. His chest feels too tight to contain the fondness woven into the words. He doesn’t want to leave her, doesn’t want to leave either of them. And still he asks them to let him go; every day, he assures them he is ready. It is the last gentleness he has to give. This simple lie. There is no ready. There is only the inevitable. This all-consuming weakness in his bones, the exhaustion that chains him to this bed. He remembers all the times he was sent into battle. He didn’t fight because he wanted to; he fought because there was no choice. And now he has to give up because there is no choice. The Maker has a poor sense of humour indeed. What use is his freedom now? There is no peace to walk into. Just loss and regret. But…not the regret he once carried. It takes so much out of him, this tiny smile. He wonders if it will be his last one. It would be a good note to leave on. This one little fragment of peace he can clasp in all this cruelty. After all this time, it is finally regret for what will no longer be, not regret for what was. Their love, their lives, entangled, their journey, this house, their home. In the end, he got the one thing he dreamt of. A preposterous dream, a foolish hope. Yet it came true. He was happy, and not just for a little while. Because he found them. And he will find them again. In the next world, and all other worlds that may come. Perhaps there is enough strength left for just one more smile. No. Two. He will manage two. One for each of them.
Your pain screams so loudly it pierces my ears. Every second is agony; some days, you are too weak to even open your eyes. I'm trying to respect your wishes. I have stopped healing you. I take away as much pain as I can, but nothing more. I feed you, but I don't force more into you than you are willing to take. You are slipping, fading right in front of us. The lyrium is burning through your skin, eating you alive, and for all my magic, for all of Justice’s power, there is nothing I can do. Not anymore. You say you are ready to let go. But I am not. I know it’s time, know I should hope for your release. There is so little left of you. And yet I keep clinging, dreading the moment you are longing for. When you will be gone. And we will be alone. With memories and guilt to haunt the years that remain. Please love, don't leave us. Just one more night, just one more breath. I am not ready.
And neither is she. She’s trying to stay strong, but I can tell she’s barely holding up. And so can you. We have both seen that mask before. Bethany. Her mother. She held back her tears then, just as she does now. I can’t tell her about the song. Not yet. Not until you…No. Don’t think about that. How can I put her through that? She’ll be the last one left. Again. I’ll wait until they’re here. To say Goodbye. I don’t think they’ll make it in time. Not for this one. I should have called them sooner, should not have listened to you. Stubborn elf. Wonderful elf. My love. When my time comes, they will be here. I promise. You don’t have to worry about her. They’ll hold her tight and take her with them. Three pirates on the open sea. One more adventure for her. She’ll be alright.
She has to be.
And there goes everything we built, the moments we shared, the meals we cooked, the stories we told, our favourite places...you are in all of them, and they are nothing without you. Crumbling....crashing...who could have known we'd have so little time? A string of moments - and suddenly, none.
Up in the crow’s nest, Hawke is tying a feather and a red piece of cloth into a bandage. She wraps it around the mast, as high as she can reach, and sticks a dagger – the one tied to her father’s blood – right into the middle. The crew will not touch it; Isabela made sure of that. She wriggles the hilt, just to be sure, and nods. Everything is in place, and secure. It will hold. For now. Not forever. Nothing ever lasts forever. She shouldn't have forgotten that. A mistake she will not repeat.
Running her finger over the arrangement, she manages a faint smile. Up high in the air, wind and salt around them and all of the world at their feet. Free. They would have loved it, all three of them. All five. Carver and Bethany shared the same blood. A crease forms between her brows as she reaches out for the dagger again, this time for the blade itself. She watches as the bandage turns red and nods again. There’s more to her blood than her father; her mother deserves freedom too.
She makes sure to use the other hand to stroke the cloth, and the feather, one last time.
I am yours.
I love you.
Always.
They are waiting for her on the deck below, one with a hug, the other with a bottle. Isabela and Merrill. They haven’t left her side since they came to see him. For the last time.
They held her, fed her, washed her. When she felt like she could never get up again, they dragged her out bed, and they keep inviting her into theirs. Hawke can’t shake the feeling that a certain mage encouraged them to. Leaning against the railing, the wind ruffling her hair, she smiles. Always taking care of everyone, even with his last breaths. One day she might take them up on the offer. But not yet. For now she is still faithful. Still grieving.
Anders waited months before he finally told her. She had known, of course. But she kept quiet. For Fenris. And then, for Anders. He thought she wasn’t ready to face it. She knew he wasn’t.
When the time came, when they could no longer desperately put it off, Isabela kept Fenris’ promise for him. She made it quick. And she didn’t let Hawke anywhere near the dagger.
“No, sweet thing. You’ve had to do this for too many people you love already.”
Hawke held him during his last moments, kissed the last smile he would ever give her.
And then she was alone.
At least life had given them a few more years to mourn Fenris together. He was gone. And yet he was everywhere.
Now they both are.
She can’t see them when she goes to sleep, can’t reach either of them, but Justice assures her Fenris’ soul didn’t pass through the fade like those of the dead are said to do. As stubborn in death as he had been in life, Fenris stayed. Waited. And Anders found him.
They are together now, waiting for her. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. The fade knows no time.
She has to believe it. Justice would not lie.
She cried the first time she met him in her dreams. She couldn't find her loves, but Justice found her. And he keeps finding her, almost every night. They talk, like they used to when the others were asleep. Sometimes, he tries to comfort her with hugs. They are too tight, and awkward, and she cherishes every single one of them. Another reason why she prefers to sleep alone, for now. At night, she hasn’t lost them all. Her lovers may be gone, but her friend is still there.
Next to her, the rattle of jewellery, the soothing tones of an old Dalish prayer for the dead.
And a question, a smile, streaks of grey in black hair, every line around her eyes filled with mischief. Her beauty knows no age, her hunger for life no limit.
“So, where do you want to go next?”
The grin she throws Isabela doesn’t have as much force as it used to. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get the old one back. But then, she also thought she’d never smile again.
“Surprise me.”
Before her lies the sea. She will keep her hand firmly closed around the pain and take it with her, as she sails into freedom, her friends at her side. They will share the stories. Varric will write them down.
They will be remembered.
Anders sometimes regretted that they didn’t have children. As they set sail, she finds she is alright with it. An end is an end, and sometimes an end is needed. No more guilt and complicated stories, no more lies. No more Hawkes.
But this one still has a couple of flights left in her.
And when she gets too weak to soar, they will be waiting.
#fenhanders week#teamblueandangry#dragon age fanfiction#fenhanders#angst#character death#grief#anders#fenris#hawke#fics#my fics#fenhanders week 2017
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