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English
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Part 2 of Flight of a Hawke
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Published:
2014-03-04
Completed:
2014-08-10
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11,381
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8/8
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164
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Diversions

Summary:

Short bits and pieces about the Hawke and Fenris from my longer fic, Flight of a Hawk, Return of a Wolf, but don't need to read it to enjoy the fluff and smut and other stuff. Updates when something comes to me.

Chapter 1: Control

Chapter Text

Control

Fenris stood and looked around. Firelight flickered from the hearth. Shadows moved and shifted in the corners of the bedroom. He inhaled deeply and his nostrils were filled with a sweet and heady scent of sweat and orchids. He closed his eyes and listened. He heard sharp and desperate breaths broken here and there by soft delicious whimpers. He opened his eyes and looked down at the flushed and writhing form of a woman on the bed. His woman.

He simply couldn't stop staring at her. At what he had done. At what she had let him do. Marian was bent face forward at the edge of the bed, feet on the floor. He had tied her hands behind her with a bit of cord. Her skin was bare and finely beaded with perspiration. Black hair was in disarray and she had her head turned so she could look at him with her dark eyes.

Fenris tilted his head in fascination. He remembered exactly how they had come to be in these positions, him standing over her, and her bound beneath him. But he still couldn't quite absorb it.

"Fenris, I don't want to be in control, that's the point. I'm always in control. But sometimes I want nothing more than to just let go. I trust you, I love you..." He remembered his breath catching as she said it. As if it was natural, as if it was truth and his heartbeat skipped, "...and I'm leaving you in control tonight."

"Marian, I...this is not..." He wasn't sure how to tell her his fears. "...this is not how you should be treated. You don't know...you've never known what it's like..." She reached out and twined their fingers together.

"This, Fenris, is not That. This is me not having to think about anything, for a change. This is you moving away from your past. This is you finding pleasure in me and me enjoying every second of it." She smiled broadly, laughter in her voice and love in her eyes.

Fenris took a deep slow breath. He was going to embrace his control.

He walked away from Marian, leaving her prone and bound on the bed. He leisurely removed his gauntlets and breastplate and slipped his tunic over his head. He stretched and sighed as the heat of the fire glided over his skin. His lyrium was just barely shining and it tingled, but there was no pain. She was still staring at him and making little noises in her throat as she licked her lips. He held her eyes with his as he removed his trousers and threw them aside. He stood naked before her. He felt no shame or weakness. He saw her eyes widen and she made a needy little whining sound as her eyes traveled from his face to the scars of lyrium on his chest to his cock standing at attention. It was then he realized that he wanted this. He needed this. And the beautiful naked woman waiting for him on the bed wanted and needed him. But he was going to control how she got him tonight. His lips curled into an involuntary smile.

He took himself in his hand as she watched and he slid slowly up and down the length of his erection. She made the needy little noise again. He walked back across the room over to her. He let go of himself and smacked her hard on one round cheek where it stuck up in the air for him. She squealed in surprise, and he did it again, her skin turning a bright red at the harsh contact. "No Marian," he ordered "No noises except when I tell you." She pursed her lips tight, silent. "You will speak when spoken to, you will moan when I order it, and you will beg when you are told. Do you understand?" Her lips twisted and he could tell she was trying not to smile but she nodded. He struck her bottom again and her face pinched, but she remained silent. Fenris laughed. "Good girl." He encouraged her obedience.

He moved his hand along her skin to sooth the sting of his blow. His hand wandered up to the small of her back and then down again to cup the curve of her behind. He moved his curious fingers to lightly brush the little pink lips that glistened between her legs and Marian squeezed her eyes shut, but made not a sound. Fenris chucked low and continued his caress. She was wet with need, but he waited for her to open her eyes again. When she did, he leaned forward a little and looked into them very deliberately as he shoved one finger inside her. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened but nothing escaped it. He smiled at her and held her gaze.

"I want to hear you moan now Marian." He said softly and he moved his finger in and out of her slowly. She looked so grateful as she moaned that he pushed in another finger and pressed his thumb against her tender little nub. That got him a loud and long breathless cry that only made him thrust faster and rub harder. But he saw in her eyes that she was too close too soon. He pulled his hand away and she moaned in disappointment.

He moved to stand behind her, the tip of his cock just barely brushing her sex. He reached forward, grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back towards him as he leaned into her. "Tell me what you want Marian."

She didn't hesitate to obey. "I want you to fuck me."

Fenris tightened his grip in her hair. "That's a little vague, love." He leaned in further and bit on her earlobe. He lifted his other hand to her mouth and put two fingers in. Instinctively she sucked and licked at them. "Do you want me to fuck you here?" He pulled his fingers out and moved his hand to her pert behind. He grazed one finger against the tight little hole of her ass. "Do you want me to fuck you here?" And then he slid his finger down and pushed it back inside her slit, pumping in and out again. "Or do you want me to fuck you here? Answer me Marian."

"Hnnnn" She whimpered softly.

He pulled back tightly on her hair. "Answer me."

"I want you to fuck my pussy."

He withdrew his finger and released her hair. Her head fell back down to the bed. He grabbed her hips with both hands and let his cock slide up and down along her wetness. "Beg me" he ordered.

She tried to push her hips back against him and she whined and fought against the binding at her wrists. He laid another sharp slap against her flesh. "Beg me" he repeated, his voice harsher now with his own need that burned inside him.

"Please, Fenris. Please fuck me." Her muscles were tense in his hands where he gripped her.

He slid a tiny fraction of his hard length into her and stopped. "More" he said

"Please!" she pleaded in earnest as she tried violently to impale herself on him but he held her hips still, bruises forming where his fingers dug into her. "Please fuck me. Please let me have your cock, please Fenris!"

And just like that his control broke into pieces. He pulled her hips hard back against him and he buried himself inside her in one movement. His head fell back and he took a moment to savor the feeling of her tight heat. She arched her back and let loose a lovely wanton moan. She put her own hands on her bottom and spread herself apart for him, leaning back against him trying to force him in deeper. He pulled out and thrust back in driving her down into the bed. All hope of drawing this out any longer was gone. He pounded in and out of her in a frenzy of reckless desire, his throbbing length slick with her juices. Marian voiced delicate little grunts with each thrust and he felt her muscles start to clench around him and he went faster and deeper still until her moans turned into one long scream. She shivered and tossed her head, her back arched and her arms painfully restricted behind her. She was soft skin and lithe muscle, heated breath and wild abandon, and he was lost. One last thrust and he spilled inside her shuddering and groaning in his deep timbre.

He fell on top of her, his breathing heavy and ragged, his chest pressed against her back. He felt her wiggle and writhe her hands that were trapped between them. And then she artfully pulled them out, the bindings slipping off harmlessly. She twisted and turned her body underneath him until they were face to face. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her now free arms around his neck. He looked at her exhausted and surprised. She smiled an exquisite smile; the satisfied smile of a woman well loved, and she kissed him full and deep and powerful.

When she pulled away, he asked her "So you could have escaped the restraints at any time?"

She giggled with guilt. "Of course, love. Pirate friends, remember? Next time I'll show you some other things I learned from Isabela..."

Chapter 2: Notes

Summary:

Some suggestive fluff in between chapters 21 and 22 of FHRW, because how can there not be a kinky reading lesson?

Chapter Text

There was a note stuck to the front door.

FIND ME.

Fenris pulled it down and looked at the words. The lines of the letters were written in heavy and confident strokes. It was Marian's writing. Not that anyone else would have left him a note. He read it. F-I-N-D. Find. M-E. Me. Find Me.

He had known few pleasures in life, though admittedly the list was growing since he met Marian, but few were as satisfying as being able to read. He was even willing to put up with these ridiculous games...now that he had blown off some steam.

She hadn't spoken to him all day. She had been making him read everything she wanted to say to him out of the little notebook they were using for his lessons. What was worse, was that she wouldn't acknowledge anything he said to her until he wrote it down. His reading skill was advancing faster than he had expected but his writing was still painfully elementary. His fingers had never needed to wield anything more delicate than a broadsword. A quill had quickly reduced him to a frustrated mess. He had finally gotten so aggravated that he threw the inkwell against a wall in the library where it shattered and left a chaotic little black stain on the carpet. Marian was so patient and unperturbed by his outburst that it only irritated him more so he marched out of the mansion and went to the Sword and Sovereign to have a drink with Varric.

It had been the right thing to do. He did not want the venom of his own ignorance to lead to a more serious outburst that might spoil what Marian was so generously giving him. Plus, the dwarf was fast becoming the only other person besides Marian whose presence Fenris could tolerate. He was unable to acclimate to Isabela's incessant flirting with him and when she did it with Marian he just felt violent with jealousy. Fenris didn't feel threatened by Varric despite his obvious closeness with Marian and Varric treated him as Marian did; as if he didn't see the lyrium or the less visible but obvious scars of slavery. So Fenris had showed up at Varric's door. The dwarf didn't even question Fenris's appearance there. He simply let him in and put a mug in front of him.

"Aggravating isn't she?" Varric asked him with a knowing smile. "But, she kind of seeps into you, like acid, and before you know it, you're savoring the burn."

"That is not exactly the analogy I would have used." Fenris downed half the ale in one pull.

"Are you here to share? Or did you just need to get away? If you're sharing, give me a minute to get my quill so I can take notes for later."

Fenris growled and finished his ale. "Quills..." He slammed the mug down on the table.

"Ummm...okay?" Varric appeared to have smartly decided not to write things down.

Fenris would have preferred to keep this between he and Marian, but it is not as if it was a secret that slaves are not taught to read. "She is teaching me how to read and write. She can be...persistent."

"Ha! That is probably the kindest and most understated way I have heard her mannerisms referred to." Varric joined him at the table. "Listen, Elf. Hawke is like gaatlok. She's fantastic at breaking down walls, but she only knows how to do it one way. Blow it up. But I'll wager the gaatlok isn't half as explosive between the sheets." Varric grinned at him and then laughed when Fenris was unable to suppress his blush. "Go back to her and let her break your walls down, Elf. She's good at it, and you'll be better off for it. Trust me, I know."

So he had gone back, and was greeted by the note on the door. Fenris walked into the mansion and found another note pinned to the banister of the staircase with one of her daggers.

UPSTAIRS.

He was grateful there was nothing difficult so far. He went upstairs. At the top of the staircase, there was another. This time tied to an oil lamp with a bit of ribbon.

BEDROOM.

He hadn't really needed to read that one. He made his way to their bedroom and opened the door. Marian was lying on the bed, covered in small pieces of parchment. And nothing else. He would have laughed at the silliness of it if he hadn't been so instantly aroused.

She waved one slip of paper in her hand at him. He moved to the side of the bed and took it from her.

READ ME.

He looked up from the note she had handed him. She gestured to the rest of her body, but didn't say a word.

He rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide his smile. Of course he would play along. If she had said she fancied him reciting poetry in middle of the Grand Proving Arena he would have done it and thanked her for the opportunity.

He sat beside her at the edge of the bed. He plucked a note from off of her midsection.

ABDOMEN, it read. He said it aloud. She smiled and nodded in approval and then she made a show of taking her index finger kissing it and then pointing to where the note had been. He took her meaning. He leaned forward slowly and placed a soft but lingering kiss just above her navel. His frustrations of earlier were long since forgotten.

He took another note from where it lay under her chin.

NECK. He spoke the word into her skin as he nuzzled against her pulse. He licked and sucked at the tiny throbbing point until he heard her moan a little and squirm on the bed making the papers rustle. When he pulled away, he noticed her eyes were now heavy with want and if she wasn't so stubborn he was sure she was ready to be done playing this game so they could move on to other things. He decided he was enjoying himself too much, however, so he chose another note.

LEFT BREAST. The words came out slightly slurred as he tried to say them with the object in question in his mouth. He bit softly on the tender tip as his fingers found the accompanying note on the other side, pushing it away. He recited what he already knew it said and switched his attentions to that side.

Marian, it seemed, had now fully surrendered the game. She sighed and arched her back against his mouth and he slipped his hands around her waist. There was only one more note left.

"Fenris..." She cooed his name and twisted her fingers in his hair.

He looked up at her. "You are speaking to me again?" He moved his hand to the remaining bit of parchment. He took it and held it up. "Shall I read the name of this body part to you as well, or would you prefer I write down what I plan on doing to it?"

He could read her answer in her smile.

Chapter 3: Yours

Summary:

A little magister/slave roleplaying for Marian and Fenris...

Chapter Text

"Do you think you can take me, slave?"

This was wrong. So utterly wrong. But Fenris didn't care one damn bit.

"I will have you underneath me, magister, before this night is out and you will be begging me to 'take you'."

Marian smiled darkly as she flipped her daggers in her hands. She circled slowly around him making a show of the curves of her body. "No magic. No lyrium. Agreed?" She licked her lips like a predator.

"Agreed." He replied. His eyes followed her as she moved in the moonlight. She wore a rich black tunic, the dragons of the Imperium stitched over one breast. Her legs were bare and her naked feet stepped silently through the grass of the estate's empty walled garden.

Fenris hefted his greatsword. His arms flexed to bear the weight of it. He caught Marian's lips part just slightly. Her eyes were on his skin, moving along the muscles of his uncovered chest and the lines of lyrium there, ignoring the danger of his sword. He took advantage of her distraction and attacked, bringing his weapon around in a broad circle. Her arms went wide and she jumped backwards avoiding the blow.

"Not nearly good enough, Elf!" She shouted as she spun and came at him, one of her daggers whispering just past his face close enough for him to smell metal. He was able to jump back just in time. He swung his giant sword with one arm, and she ducked and rolled to the left just as he had expected her to. He turned quickly and was waiting for her with his fist, but when he brought it down expecting to land it on her body, he was met with only air. He felt the brush of a breeze and she was suddenly behind him. He turned to see her spinning a leg towards his head. He was just fast enough to bring his sword back up and her foot landed on the flat of his blade.

She was dancing with him, his cunning little magister. He chucked low under his breath. She paused just like that, one leg perched against his uplifted sword. His eyes moved from her delicate foot, where soft skin rested against steel, up her leg and under her tunic that was hitched up her firm thigh and up further to the core of her, nothing separating her little pink folds from his gaze.

She smiled a sly smile, staying just how she was, watching him look his fill. "What a brazen slave you are. Did no one teach you to lower your eyes to your mistress?"

Fenris abruptly dropped his sword and hooked his arm underneath the leg she had no time to lower. He pulled to unbalance her and she cried out in shock falling backwards. He was swift enough to move his other arm under her back to soften her fall somewhat as he dropped down with her, but he didn't shield her completely and she landed with a hard thump and a grunt on the ground. She tried to reposition, to bring her arms up between them, daggers still in hand, but again she was too slow. Fenris lit his lyrium and before she could take another breath he deftly maneuvered himself atop her, holding both her hands above her head and shoving his knees between her thighs to keep her splayed underneath him. Exactly how he predicted only moments ago.

She writhed, caught between his body and the damp grass. His lyrium flared and he pushed down on her arms harder, spread her legs wider. "You agreed..." She squirmed again. "...No lyrium!"

He leaned forward, unable to hold back an evil little smile. "I lied." She scowled and he felt her try to bring her magic into her hands where she still held her daggers. He picked her wrists up off the ground and slammed them back down again and the daggers fell out of her hands with the blow. He leaned further in and whispered in her ear harshly, "Don't you dare, mage or I will make you regret it."

"I will not take orders from you, slave!" She spit at him with venom in her voice, but a wide grin on her face.

He just laughed. "We'll see, 'mistress'...". She continued to fight him as he repositioned. He moved her wrists so that he held them with one of his hands above her head. With his free hand he removed his belt, tied her wrists with it then took one of her daggers and drove it into the leather, pinning it and her bound wrists to the ground. She pulled at it trying to free the dagger from the dirt but she was ineffectual. He had buried the thing into the hilt. He maintained his position between her forced open legs as he reached for her other discarded dagger. He sat back on his heels as he looked down at her. When he saw the spark of excitement in her eyes and saw how her chest heaved, short of breath from desire, he almost considered taking her right then. But he was nothing if not a man of fortitude.

He ran the tip of the blade down her cheek, just enough to scratch but not draw blood. He kept going down her neck and to the top of her breasts just barely exposed from the v of her tunic. He turned the dagger in his hands and, in one pull, slit her tunic from neck to hem.

Marian gasped at the shock of air on her nude skin and she shivered when Fenris flicked aside the cut ends of cloth exposing her fully. She pulled again at the dagger pinning her arms to no avail. Fenris discarded the dagger and placed his hands on the inside of her thighs where his knees had been holding her apart. His gaze fell between her legs and found her wet enough to glisten already.

He lowered himself and pressed his whole body against her, and he rubbed his hardness against her center as he chided her. "Are you so filthy, you magister whore, that you drip with need for a slave?"

She turned her head away from him, closing her eyes and burying her face in her arm as she lifted her hips trying to rub herself against him. He pushed back on her thighs and pulled away from her. He moved his hands slowly up the inside of her legs and tickled her needy lips with his thumbs. She squirmed in earnest now trying to increase the friction. He pulled his fingers away from her as well and he stood. He freed his hard length and stroked himself as he spoke to her. "Perhaps you would like me to kneel before you, mistress." She turned her head back just in time to watch him kneel, straddling her chest. When she opened her mouth as if to speak he filled it with his cock and she moaned against its intrusion. He held her head and thrust slowly inside her. He closed his eyes, straining, when he felt her wicked tongue stroke him just so, just the way she knew would drive him mad with lust. He looked down and saw the satisfaction in her eyes, knowing she had gained the upper hand even from her compromised position. He couldn't let that stand so he separated himself from her again, the night air cool against his manhood dripping with her saliva.

He took a moment to regain some semblance of control. Marian took the chance to close her legs and was twisting and rubbing them together. He knelt again before her and stopped her attempts at finding pleasure without him. As he pulled her legs apart again he said sharply, "You will come on my cock or not at all." She eyed him defiantly and smiled again, fighting against him. He tightened his grip on her, then threw one leg over each of his shoulders. She pushed at his chest with the backs of her thighs. He leaned forward on her and shoved his cock in deep with one thrust. He bit back the moan that threatened to escape his mouth. Marian did the opposite and he was sure her cry could have been heard inside the mansion. He stilled himself inside her, pinning her down with his body and holding her hips fast. He smirked at her and said, "Do you want the whole household to hear you moan as you're taken by a slave in the dirt?"

She suddenly stopped moving. She was completely still as she looked into his eyes and slowly, deliberately said, "Yes."

"Then let's hear it, mistress." And he started pounding out a brutal rhythm, stretching her and filling her and she followed his command, moaning out his name into the night.

He almost forgot himself, lost to the feeling of her tightness and the sound of her wanton cries. When he felt her start to clench around him he came back to his senses and abruptly pulled out of her completely. She screamed in needy disappointment.

He laughed again, letting her struggle for a minute against her restraints. Then he reached up and pulled the dagger from the ground, tossing it aside. He left her wrists bound in his belt and he flipped her over, then pulled her up on her knees. She buried her head into her arms again, face down on the grass. She thrust her ass out towards him begging with her body.

He spoke down to her. "Do you feel like a high and mighty magister now?"

She shook her head, but didn't look back at him and didn't speak.

He positioned himself at her drenched opening. "Call me master." He said calmly.

"Yes master!" She was so quick to answer he didn't have the will to deny her completion any longer. He pushed back into her slowly and she let out another agonizing moan, followed by a grateful sigh and a "Thank you master." Those words from her lips did him in, his fortitude forgotten. He slammed into her from behind, driving her into the ground until he felt her squeeze around his cock and scream out one last thanks to her master. Her climax was long and pulsing and it brought him with her sooner than he wanted, as he thrust himself inside her one last time, spilling into her, then collapsing on top of her.

He was surprised when she giggled and he gently rolled them around so that he lay on his back on the grass and she cuddled against his chest. She sighed in contentment before she asked him, "Do you really think they heard us inside?"

"I think they heard you down at the docks and at the tops of the spires, love."

She giggled again. It was a sweet sound in his ears and it wrapped around his heart. He pulled her closer. "Good" she said. "Now everyone knows I'm yours."

Chapter 4: Action

Summary:

Just a tiny thing that's been sitting in my files, I thought I might as well just post it. Observations on Hawke and Fenris from Orana and Varania's points of view. Somewhere between chapters 21 and 22.

Chapter Text

The new mistress was always doing something.

Hawke. She had asked them to call her 'Hawke'. At various times, in various situations, Orana had found her scurrying about, cooking her own food or sharpening her own daggers or carrying water for her own bath. More often than not she could be seen hovering around the tall, handsome elf Fenris and doing little things for him (her-lover-not-her-slave; she had said that more than once without having been asked, as if it mattered to her what they thought she was doing with him; and when she said it he would always blush while still looking angry and roll his eyes). And she talked. Often and loudly and to anyone and everyone whether they responded to her or not. She was like a tiny human hurricane.

Hawke had actually asked all the slaves not to do anything for her. Fenris pinched his eyes and shook his head looking somewhat exasperated when she made the request. He wasn't foreign like her. He knew the order of things; he said he had been a slave. Orana would have done anything this woman had asked of her, so grateful she was that Hadriana was dead. So she wanted to obey the request, but she found herself needing to do something, anything to repay her.

So Orana hovered too. Usually just out of sight, waiting until she saw something they might need, even if they didn't know it themselves.

Orana watched the pair from behind the barely cracked open door. She didn't know how long she had sat there, watching. Her knees were numb where they made contact with the cold stone of the floor. She knew they wouldn't need anything just now, but she couldn't walk away.

They were sitting by the hearth in the kitchen, surrounded by empty wine bottles. Not the first time, and likely not the last. Though Hawke was quick to laugh and always wore an easy smile, there was something deep behind her eyes that spoke of distant hurt not quite forgotten. As for Fenris, his hurt was not so cleverly hidden. Most times it flared brightly in the markings on his skin, and when it did it pained Orana to look at him.

The soft clear notes of a song traveled in the air. Hawke was drunk and singing to her herself again. She couldn't even be drunk quietly. It was a language Orana didn't understand. She had never been outside of Tevinter. She had actually never been outside of Minrathous. She knew Fenris understood though. She had heard them speaking together in the foreign tongue. The sound of it was gutteral and clipped and seemed...sensible. Orana was fascinated by the strangeness of it all. The strangeness of them. The strange way they were together.

She saw Fenris rise from his chair and move to where Hawke sat. He leaned down and kissed her, silencing her song. Orana held her breath and bit her lower lip, first leaning back on her heels as if to leave but then pushing herself forward to see more. Hawke laughed a little into his mouth as she tilted her head back for him. Orana noticed that even as she let herself be kissed, her hands were busy. She twisted her fingers in his hair, and tangled one of her legs around his as he perched over her. Her other hand came up between them and with one finger she traced the white line on his chin down his neck as their kiss deepened.

Orana knew she shouldn't be watching, but she couldn't look away. Hawke was a flurry of gentle little movements and Fenris's strange markings seemed to come to life with them. He then separated from her lips and stopped to look at her. She laughed again and spoke to him in her native tongue. Orana wished she understood. Perhaps if she did it would help her to understand this woman the way that Fenris seemed to understand her. When she saw the other elf without her, he was tense and wary, but he changed when he was with her. The human woman's million little words and movements whirled about him and strangely seemed to calm him. Orana never felt calm around humans, but when she saw how Fenris was around Hawke, she wanted to be able to feel that way.

Fenris reached down and gathered Hawke up to carry her in his arms, the lilt of her foreign words still spilling from her mouth, but now into his ear as she brushed it with her lips. He started walking towards the door.

Orana jumped up and scrambled off the floor, not wanting to get caught observing them. She smiled to herself as she hurried away thinking how different her new mistress was from all the others.

Where the others were sloth and apathy, Hawke was passion and action.

xxxx

Varania slept, and as she slept, she dreamed. Several nights had passed that she wandered the Fade looking for her brother. Again this night, she was unable to find him. Her heart lightened with each step she took and each moment that passed that he remained absent. So many times she had seen him here in so many terrible dreams.

She was forced to watch him suffer, night by night, unable to intervene. Unable even to comfort him, for she was nothing here to him. She was a spectre. An invisible forgotten memory, barricaded behind walls in his mind that she could not breach with any amount of pining or magic.

But then there was the woman. The human mage with the magic that seemed to fill the Fade and cast light in all the dark corners of the siblings' shared dreams. The woman seemed to vibrate with purpose. She had no idea who this woman was, or what she was to her brother. What she did know was that the woman acted. She had acted against Danarius and acted to help her brother. And if she was strong enough to do this in the Fade, Varania's heart thrummed with the promise that she was also helping her brother on the other side of the Veil.

In all these years Varania had not been able to offer anything tangible that would help him. But all on his own, or by the Maker's grace, he had found someone different from her and all the others.

Where she was sorrow and defeat, this woman was hope and action.

Chapter 5: Descent

Summary:

A scene from Kirkwall before Hawke met Fenris, when she was still with Anders, after their encounter with Feynriel in the Fade. As mentioned in FHRW 39, she killed him in the Fade and made him tranquil.

Chapter Text

Hawke was deep in her cups. Her vision blurred making the flickering flames in the hearth seem far away. She briefly wondered what Varric would think when he returned to find her wallowing alone in front of his fire when she had a perfectly good mansion to brood in. But this wasn't the first time she had come here seeking solace, or even just time away from the loneliness.

The door to Varric's suite at the Hanged Man slowly pushed open. He knew she was there before he entered, likely seeing the firelight glow just above the shabby floorboards in the hall. She didn't turn around. She didn't trust herself not to vomit if she moved too fast. She heard Varric set down Bianca and pull up a chair. He joined her as she stared blankly, not saying anything.

"So what's going on Hawke?" He was feeling her out. He knew very well what was going on. He may not have come into the Fade with them, but he was there when Anders...Justice...whoever, she didn't even really care anymore, accused her of betrayal and likened her actions to murder. The man who claimed he loved her would accept no explanations, no apologies. Never mind that the elf-blooded boy of a mage was dangerous. Never mind the threat he posed to everyone with his lack of control. As far as Anders was concerned she was just another self-loathing mage who might as well be in the circle for all the self-imposed chains she wore. She still couldn't believe he had actually said that. That she might as well be in the circle.

He had left her house that night, not even bothering to gather his things. She knew he could be found in his clinic, but she bitterly refused to bend, so she didn't seek him out. Who was he to judge her? Who was he to impose his opinions? He didn't hold the exclusive rights to suffering. She knew more about loss than most. And that was all the more reason to ruthlessly exercise caution and control, so more innocents didn't have to suffer. But these were arguments that fell on deaf ears. Over the past months her lover was growing more and more restless. More set in his ways and less willing to hear reason. It was becoming harder for her to soothe his ire, to calm his vengeance. She eventually always did, however, and then she would see regret in his lovely honey-colored eyes, tenderness, affection, and the gratitude for simply being by his side despite who and what he was; despite the fact that she knew he was not always a gentle man.

She slouched down more into her chair, sighing and taking another swig of the amber liquid from the half empty bottle she held. She wasn't even sure what she was drinking anymore, as long as it continued to provide blissful numbness. She choked a little at the too big gulp and wiped at her mouth. She scoffed at her own musings. Tenderness, affection, gratitude. She had found none of those things in his eyes tonight. A week had gone by while she held onto her stubbornness. Then two. By the end of the third week, she was morose and stalking the rooms of her empty mansion like a wraith. When the fourth week came and went, Aveline of all people had encouraged her to go to Darktown to speak with him.

She should have known it was bad advice. Her dear friend the guard captain was too giddy by half lately with that new beau of hers, Donnic. That was how Hawke found her self earlier in the evening tentatively stepping through a mob of needy urchins seeking healing. She hovered in his doorway as he worked. He looked up once at her when she first appeared, disapproval and disappointment obvious in the way he tensed and pursed his lips and then continued working without a word. She offered to help, but he waved her away. When the crowd finally cleared, all treated and sent on their way, she asked if they could speak. He turned his back to her and sank down into a chair, seeming more exhausted than she had ever seen him, and he simply said he wasn't ready to forgive her yet.

Forgive her? Forgive her?!

Equal parts dejected and angry, she turned silently and left him with his bitterness and his Justice. She walked straight here, where she now found herself imposing on Varric.

"I tried to speak with him." She wasn't sure even she understood the slurred words she just spoke, but Varric had been patiently waiting for her to open up and had obviously been listening intently.

"Mm." Varric nodded his head slowly and Hawke knew he was considering his next statement carefully as he looked into the fire. He replied to her hesitantly. "Listen, as your friend I feel like I'd be doing you a disservice if I didn't say something."

"Ugh." Hawke took another drink, then stood and started pacing. "No need, Varric. I know what everyone thinks. Do you think I don't hear the whispers all over Hightown since he moved in." She twisted her face in mockery "Look at the two mad apostates! Hide the children!" She spit the taste of cheap spirits out of her mouth and into the fire. "Well, Varric, in all the time you've known me have I ever given you the impression that I was turned off by crazy?"

"Okay, point taken Hawke, but maybe it's for the best." He leaned forward and chanced taking it a bit further. "Maybe, just maybe, being involved with the possessed mage is too dangerous? This is a perfect example. I care about Blondie too, but he's having trouble seeing reason lately." Varric shifted uncomfortably. "I care about him, but I care about you more, kid. There, I've said my piece."

Hawke fell wearily back down into her chair and the two friends didn't speak for a long while. Hawke closed her eyes and tried to remember a time when she was happy. She thought of the Fereldon woods and her family; she thought of her father. She imagined more than one person in his life had called him a 'mad apostate' as well. If they had, little did it affect him. Malcolm Hawke knew who he was, and knew what he was about and he had taught his children to be the same way. Hawke couldn't help but think that having Leandra's unwavering love in his life helped in that regard.

"Rrrrrhhh." Hawke growled helplessly at the ceiling. She cared about Anders very much and she knew he cared about her. It might even be love, but she wasn't sure. "He needs me Varric. You know he does."

Varric looked her up and down and frowned. She raised her eyebrow at him. "Hawke...don't do this just because you don't want to live in an empty house."

She winced. Hawke almost wished they weren't such good friends that he felt comfortable laying bare her deeply hidden fears. She stood up and gathered her cloak and her daggers. She left the bottle of spirits on the table. She walked towards the door with heavy steps. She paused in the doorway and said over her shoulder to him, "That's not it Varric. You know I'm no so weak as that." She stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her. Under her breath she whispered to herself, "But it is very empty..."

It was so late when she arrived back at her mansion, it was almost early. She stumbled through the door and threw down her daggers fully prepared to go upstairs and fall into bed to sleep off the drink. She stopped two steps in when she saw Anders sitting on the bench in the entryway, head hung to the floor and twisting his hands.

He looked up at her, golden eyes full of remorse. He opened his mouth, but she spoke first as she casually removed her boots. "This is your home too, Anders, you don't have to sit in the doorway like a stray cat."

He let out a short tense puff of laughter. "Since you hate cats, you're right, I wouldn't want to do that." He rose and followed her upstairs when she passed him. She led them to their bedroom, feeling more tired that she had in ages. The hearth was cold and dark and she shivered a bit, just standing there, not sure what to say next. Anders came to stand before her, slowly coming close and lifting his hand to her cheek. She looked up into his eyes. He leaned forward and rested his head against hers. She felt his breath on her lips. He smelled of elfroot and magic and his touch made her tingle. She closed her eyes knowing she had given up her anger even before they had reached the stairs.

When he spoke his voice was soft and held too much sadness for Hawke's comfort. "I don't deserve you."

"You don't." She said. He didn't. But he deserved to deserve her. He was a good man, and he needed her. And she needed him. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry you felt the way you did, but I'm not sorry for what I did."

"I know, Hawke. You were right to do what you did. I know that, but I'm finding it so...difficult...lately...to...accept things..." He broke away from her and rubbed his forehead in a pained gesture.

She moved and wrapped her arms around him from behind and she felt how tense he was. He relaxed a bit into her embrace and turned around. He held her cheek again and kissed her. It was warm and tender and slow. His other hand came up to the small of her back and he drew her close. They surrendered into each other, seeking solace, seeking comfort, seeking something unknowable and intangible that they both desperately wanted to try to make real.

They undressed each other with gentle fingers and loving words. He laid her beneath him on the bed as if she was glass. His every touch was reverent and caring. When he made love to her she did feel loved. But even as their bodies joined she couldn't help but think it wasn't quite enough to fill the emptiness, and she couldn't help but wish for something more than this; she couldn't help but think she deserved something...different.

Chapter 6: Father

Notes:

Just a super short bit with Fenris meeting Malcolm in the Fade for the first time. It bothered me that I referenced it in the main story, but didn't elaborate. Now I feel better. :)

Chapter Text

"You know, the Fade isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows, but when you're here the whole place just seems that much more depressing. I'd ask you to try smiling, but I'm afraid your face might crack."

Fenris raised his head towards the voice. He had been sitting on a rock in a thick forest. The smell of damp woodlands was almost as oppressive as the grey sky that looked to be threatening rain. He had been in many places like this in Fereldon, so he supposed his mind was conjuring memories of his time on the run as he dreamed. He saw a tall human man approaching, much older than himself, but still vibrant looking. The man was dressed simply and he sat on the moss covered ground close by Fenris, but kept a respectful distance. Marian had warned him demons would come to him in time. He was more annoyed than concerned.

"You'll get no satisfaction here demon. I suggest you seek out lesser prey." Fenris growled out. He had been sitting here for what seemed like a very long time and he was eager to be done with this seemingly pointless dream and wake next to Marian.

The human laughed. "While I don't doubt that you would be totally uninteresting to most demons, I'm no demon." He dusted his hand off on his leg and extended it to Fenris. "Malcolm Hawke."

Fenris rose and backed away from the man's outstretched hand. Malcolm...Hawke? He looked around the woods but he didn't know what he was looking for; perhaps an exit.

"Oh, come on, is this any way to greet family?" Malcolm rose slowly and stepped over to Fenris. Even more slowly he reached out to Fenris's hand that was hanging at his side. Fenris watched as it all happened, paralyzed by equal parts confusion and indecision. The man gingerly grabbed Fenris's wrist in two fingers and started to lift the appendage. Fenris looked down at the point of contact and almost pulled away, but the man seemed to sense it and he stopped moving, just holding Fenris's paw in place and waiting patiently. Fenris narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, now more curious than wary. Malcolm now seemed to sense that as well and followed through with his action, lifting Fenris's hand, placing it in his own, then shaking it vigorously.

"There. Now, how hard was that?" The man dropped his hand and sat on the rock, patting a spot next to him. "Join me for a chat?"

Fenris looked around again. And then he sat.

Malcolm leaned back on his hands. His eyes moved over the trees, down to the grass and up to the grey sky. "This is nice." He said casually.

Fenris had known more uncomfortable situations than most men could even dream existed. 'This' was beginning to redefine the concept for him.

"Thank you, by the way, for not running away. I needed to meet you, talk to you. From what I understand, the Abomination already threatened you, so I suppose I don't have to do that."

Fenris blinked. "That is...I..."

"You call him that too? Hm. Thought I was the only one." Malcolm scrubbed his face with his hand. "She loves you, really loves you, and thank the Maker for that. It's about bloody time she found someone good for her. A possessed renegade isn't exactly what a father wishes for his daughter, and you see how that turned out."

Fenris was in too deep at this point, so he decided to start participating in the conversation. "I am an elf and a slave. You would wish that for your daughter?" Fade spirit or no, it would be madness for the man to deny the logic of that.

"And she's a human and an apostate. What's your point?"

The man was mad.

"Come on elf. Fenris. I've been watching as much as I'm able. The two of you seem good for each other. And despite your perpetually grim exterior, you seem to feel the same way about her. So. Felicitations. You have my blessing."

"I have...your blessing?" Fenris wasn't sure what was happening. He might have preferred a demon to fight.

"Yes, my blessing." Malcolm said as if he was speaking to a child. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were slow and broody." Marian's father rose and turned to face Fenris. He folded his arms across his chest, his face having grown a measure more serious. "I would ask two things of you, however, moving forward."

Without thinking first, Fenris replied. "Anything." He wouldn't normally so readily agree to the requests of dead men in the Fade, but in this situation, there really was no other answer to give.

"Be patient with her. Her magic has shaped her more than she realizes. She wields forces that would make your Magisters weep. The struggle to control them has dogged her existence since her first memory. She feels things more clearly, more acutely; her perceptions, her emotions, her actions are all made large and colored by her powers. She lives fully, acts wildly and loves fiercely. Be patient with it, and enjoy it. If you can help her learn these things are a blessing, it will be a blessing for you as well."

Fenris was astonished at how right it felt to finally have words put to what he had known, had felt, since the day he had met Marian. She was fierce in all things and he would have it no other way.

Fenris nodded his head solemnly at Malcolm. He had already sworn similar oaths to himself each time he held Marian in his arms, swearing again, now, to her father was the least he could do to repay the good fortune he found in winning her love. "And the second?" He asked.

"Be patient with yourself." Fenris waited for an explanation, but none came. Hawke's father smiled broadly, turned on his heel, and started walking away. Fenris wanted to stop him, to ask what he meant when he turned to look over his shoulder.

"One more thing, Fenris. Please don't tell her we've spoken. I don't want her to live in the past. She has a future now, with you." He paused, then added. "But if I may, I would like to speak with you more, another time."

Fenris felt strangely soothed in spite of everything. "I...would like that as well."

Chapter 7: Loss

Summary:

Varania POV flashback. She and her mother meet Leto for the first time after the ritual.

Chapter Text

Varania darted in and out of the crowds of people. All gangly limbs and mussed red hair, she was hurrying home. She couldn't get there fast enough. Her mother needed to know. They could see him. They could finally see him. She ran as fast as she could.

It had been months since they were freed. After receiving payment for them from Magister Danarius, their Mistress had been kind enough to find them work. It was in a small dress shop in a poor neighborhood owned by another liberati elf. The customers were mostly whores. They were given a room above the shop. It was work and it was shelter and the owner hadn't minded that Varania came into her magic only days after having taken them in. For now it was as safe as could be expected. As it was, they should have gone long ago. Leto had ordered them to take ship and leave the city as soon as possible. He told them the best thing would be to try to find their mother's clan if the season permitted. Of course they had told him yes, but of course they had stayed. Their mother couldn't be drawn away. She had said she just wanted to see him once to make sure he was well.

They hadn't been told what Magister Danarius intended to do with Leto other than perform some kind of ritual to strengthen him so he could serve as a bodyguard. It was a position of honor they were told. His talents wouldn't be wasted and he would want for nothing. Or so they had been told. But it had been months now and no one had seen or heard from Magister Danarius or his new bodyguard. Varania loitered in the Forum and in the marketplaces as frequently as she could since Leto left them, hoping to hear word about where she could see him with his master, but she had heard nothing. Days went by, then weeks. Her dreams were empty and quiet. Every day that went by that they saw no trace of Leto, every night that Varania came home from her wandering with no word and every morning she awoke from a silent dream absent of her brother seemed to sap away her mother's will to go on. She had grown thin and spoke less and less. And she had stopped praying to her gods.

Then one night Varania saw him in the Fade. He was far off. So far off and veiled in shadows, but she could never mistake the feeling of her brother. He was walking away from her. She ran across the empty expanse between them and shouted his name over and over, but she could never quite reach him and he never turned to her call. Even so, when she awoke, she felt renewed. She begged off her duties promising to work through the night. She spent the whole day scouring the city for information. Finally she had overheard a few slaves waiting outside the senate hall for their masters talking about Magister Danarius. He was to return to the Senate tomorrow, and he would have his new bodyguard with him.

Varania burst through the door of their modest home to find their Mother huddled in a chair staring out the window at the setting sun.

"Varania," She said softly, "we should go before the seasons change. We should do as he asked us. It will be harder if we wait until it is winter in the south."

Later Varania would curse her youthful optimism. Later she would give anything to return to this moment and agree with her mother that they should leave Minrathous behind.

"But Mother, he was in my dreams again last night! And I heard a rumor that he will be accompanying Magister Danarius to the Senate in the morning. We can see him! It's what you wanted, we can see him just once before we go. Maybe even talk to him if he waits outside during the session. And then we'll know he's well and we can go as he asked."

Her mother didn't speak. She just bit her quivering lip and held in tears she hadn't bothered to hold in since he left them. "Yes." She replied. "We'll see him once more."

xxxx

It was clear Varania hadn't been the only one to hear the rumor. The Forum seemed more crowded than usual the next morning and the Magisters were lingering outside in the heat longer than they were prone to do. Varania and her mother kept a safe distance from the center of the crowd, keeping away from the Magisters. She shielded her eyes from the sun and looked around for any sign of her brother and his Master. She saw Magister Crasta pass with his cold eyes, she saw Danarius's apprentice Hadriana and her wicked grin, but there was no sign yet of those she sought.

The bells rang the start of the session and people started to shuffle inside the hall. The square began to clear, the Magisters making their way through the doors, some with slaves in tow, some ordering their slaves to remain outside. Her mother was quiet but Varania's magic could feel her aura vibrate with anticipation. The first thing they saw was the pommel of a greatsword towering above the thinning crowd. Magister Danarius emerged from a side street ahead of the weapon. He looked very tall and...satisfied. He held his staff proudly in one hand and in the other he held a thin chain. At the other end of which was her brother.

Leto trailed behind his Master as they entered the square. Varania heard her mother gasp. It was him. But it wasn't. His green eyes were fixed on the ground and his back was bowed under the weight of the greatsword. His black hair, that their mother had told them was like their father's had gone entirely white; white that matched the markings on his skin. Under expensive looking armor, she could see brands spiraling the exposed areas of his body. She could feel it even at this distance, they were made of lyrium. He had been branded with lyrium. Varania's eyes moved from his feet, up his legs, over his arms and past the breastplate he wore to the lines of lyrium that traveled up his neck to his chin. And over top of them was a collar that Danarius was pulling along with his chain.

Varania stood there with her mouth hung open, just watching. The crowd seemed far away now. The heat of the sun not helping the chill she now felt in her bones. Of all the ways her brother was changed what struck her the most was that he seemed...older. They were the same age. They were twins. She still felt every bit a girl, barely more than a child and only a few months ago she had thought of him as the same. Old enough for his voice to have changed, and old enough for the baby fat under his skin to be replaced by hard muscle, but in her mind, they were still children. Weren't they? But this person before her was no longer an adolescent. And she knew, she knew, he was no longer her brother. The slave being led by a chain behind his Master was a man. Not a boy, not her brother; a stranger, with distant eyes a feral aura.

She barely registered it when Magister Danarius stopped to speak with Magister Crasta, letting the chain that held Leto go slack. A few stragglers still milled about. She was too stupefied to stop her mother when she moved forward across the square. Mother moved towards Son and Varania wanted to stop her from reaching out to him, but she was frozen in place. Suddenly the silent form of her once-brother lit up with a pulse of light. He lifted his head and shot forward grabbing their mother by the throat when she was still several steps from where he stood with Danarius.

Leto practically lifted her off of her feet and Varania heard him growl, his voice the only thing still familiar about him. "What is your business with my Master? Who are you?"

Magister Danarius turned casually to where his bodyguard was holding a frail elven woman in his lethal grasp. The human smiled. "I am late. This woman can have no business with me. Do not trouble yourself with her. Now come along, Fenris."

Leto...Fenris released their mother immediately and turned without another word to follow his Master inside.

The square emptied. Time passed. Varania and her mother didn't move from their spots. When her mother finally walked away from the square something had changed in her. Varania followed behind her and they walked silently back to their home. They didn't speak the rest of the day, each of them lost in her own shock and sorrow. When Varania finally fell asleep that night, it wasn't Leto she saw in her dreams. It was her mother.

They sat next to each other in a forest that Varania had never seen before. Her mother seemed different. She spoke to her daughter in the Fade. She spoke of freedom. She told Varania to leave Minrathous. She told her to be a free mage and do as Leto had asked. She told her daughter she was strong and that she was proud of her and that she knew she would find her way. Then she told her she was sorry; sorry for the life they had lived, sorry for not being stronger, sorry for allowing Leto to be lost to them. She said that she was sorry and that she hoped she would be better off without her. And that Varania would now have to live free for all of them.

When Varania woke, her mother was already cold, the smell of deathroot lingering on her body.

She was alone.

Chapter 8: Snow

Summary:

Shameless fluff. Nothing more. I'm such a sucker for fluffy happiness it's sickening.

Chapter Text

"I still can't sleep."

Marian was sprawled out in her smallest thinnest nightdress, taking up most of the space on the narrow chaise she had made him bring out into the gardens. Fenris shifted uncomfortably to further accommodate her.

"The whole point of you dragging us out here was so that you could sleep." Fenris wasn't sure why he was wasting his breath on logic.

Marian whined. "But it's just as hot out here."

Fenris was actually quite comfortable, if not on the appropriated furniture, as least in the climate. There was a light breeze and a clear sky and the thin slivers of the moons cast only a very soft light. If it wasn't for Marian, he would have slept soundly until morning. "It is a beautiful night. If you let yourself enjoy it, sleep will come."

Marian sat up straight and looked down at him. Curiosity fought with amusement in her eyes. Fenris sighed. "What is it now?" He said, somewhat more irritated than he intended.

"I don't know that I've ever heard you refer to anything as 'beautiful' before. I supposed I assumed your general contempt for...well...everything, kept you from appreciating the concept."

"Don't be ridiculous. You know very well I have always found you beautiful, and I say it often."

"Telling me I'm beautiful when I have my legs wrapped around your waist is a bit different than what I'm talking about."

Fenris sat up now as well. She couldn't possibly think that was the only way he meant it. It wouldn't do to have her believing that of him. This was clearly a failure he had to rectify. He grabbed hold of the back of her neck and pulled her in. He focused his eyes on hers. "Marian, you must know that you are beautiful to me in every way in every moment. I may be deficient in expressing myself, but it is not something I ever needed to know how to do. But I can...I will..." He stuttered, trapping himself in the shortcoming he was trying to apologize for.

Marian brought a finger to his lips and smiled at him, silencing his concerns in the unique way that she had. "Now you're being ridiculous. I was only teasing. And I hate to be the one to tell you, but you don't exactly do a very good job hiding how you feel about me from anyone, let alone myself. I'm not the only one who's seen the puppy eyes, you know."

He grunted and threw himself back down, facing the stars as she laughed. "Come on love," she said in truce as she settled herself on his chest, "you've traveled many more places than I have. Why don't you tell me what else you've seen that you thought was beautiful."

Fenris sighed and thought. The fact that his mind was blank did nothing but prove her theory correct that the only way he had ever seen the world was through hate-colored glasses. She sensed his rising agitation, of course, and interrupted his silence.

"I always thought everything about Fereldon was beautiful. I never realized it until I left, though. It's funny how you appreciate a place more when it's gone. I loved the forests, I loved the mountains, I loved the little villages. Here everything is so...Imperial." She said the word as if she intended it to have an exact meaning. When she didn't continue, Fenris had to ask.

"What does 'Imperial' mean?"

"Oh, you know, 'Imperial'. Everything is so organized and clean and orderly. It's really oppressive sometimes. Fereldon is wild. Beautiful. Even the Orlesian's couldn't tame it. I like that."

Fenris considered her words as they lay quietly. She was right. Though he had to admit he preferred the sensible order of Tevinter civil engineering he supposed it did lack a natural beauty that existed in abundance in Marian's birth country. He thought back to the few times he actually had time to stop and appreciate the landscape he remembered mostly as a blur when on the run. And then it came to him.

"Snow." He said definitively.

Marian lifted her head a bit. "Hm?"

"The first time I saw snow was in Fereldon. I despised the cold. But the snow was beautiful."

She lifted her head fully now, smile wide and eyes beaming, looking up into his. He looked away shyly back up at the night sky, pulling her head back down onto him.

xxxx

Hawke buried her smile into Fenris's chest. He didn't say anything more and neither did she. She lay awake, not minding the sweat covering her as much now, despite being pressed up against her always warm elf. She counted his breaths as her head rose and fell with them. When they slowed and evened she knew he was asleep.

She gently pushed herself off of him. She focused herself with a few deep breaths and lifted her hand to the sky. She felt profoundly stupid that she had never thought of this before and it was interesting that it was Fenris who put the idea in her head. When the spell was cast she wanted to feel guilty about using her magic for something so frivolous but she just shrugged her shoulders. When she settled back down she thought, when in Tevinter...

Sleep came to her like magic.

xxxx

Fenris woke with a start to the sounds of dogs barking and people giggling. He sat up straight, clutching the sleeping form of Marian to him. They were still on the misplaced chaise in the garden. But the garden looked nothing like it had last night. Fenris blinked against the brightness of the dawn sun reflecting on the white snow that covered the ground. His jaw when a little slack as Marian stirred against him, rubbing her eyes. When she sat up as well, fully awake, she laughed and exclaimed, "Yea! It worked!" And she clapped like child.

The Mabari jumped happily and then buried their noses in the delicate flakes. Some of the younger elves had run outside with them, including Merrill and his sister. Merrill was already flat on her back in the stuff waving her arms and legs around in it while Varania looked down at her pretending to disapprove.

"Marian," Fenris said suspiciously, "did you make it snow in Minrathous?"

"Just around our house. I didn't want to be a bad neighbor. I was hoping I could keep it contained. I didn't do too bad a job it looks like." She nodded at herself approvingly. "You have to admit, it cooled things down a little. I know it won't last long in this heat" she said sadly. Then she looked at him with sincerity. "But, Fenris love, sometimes when something is fleeting, that is when it is the most beautiful."

Fenris swung his legs down and buried his toes in the snow. The sensation of it was just that. Beautiful.

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