Series: Dragon Age II
Summary: When Fenris swore to remain by Hawke's side, he meant those words in all aspects. When his lover's nightmares become too much to bear, Fenris decides to finally settle the matter.
Warning: SPOILERS if you haven't beaten the gaaaaammmmeeeeee
Fenris awakened to the sounds of shouting. Lucky for him, as quick reflexes enabled him to block a flailing arm on a collision course to his face. The warrior jerked upright from his position in the bed, one hand still holding firm on the arm which could have broken his nose. The arm of his lover.
Linri Hawke thrashed in his sleep, undergoing some sort of hellish nightmare. Fenris’ chest constricted at the sight of dark brown skin covered in sweat, red brows furrowed in pain. Hawke’s expression held nothing short of torment within as he battled invisible demons and Fenris’ heart went out to him.
Natural light from the full moon bathed the room, although with Fenris’ keen eyesight, darkness was irreverent. He tried to shake his lover awake, knowing his efforts would be in vain, but wanting to try anyway. Hawke’s particular nightmare was one of the worst ones, meaning nothing short of a sharp jolt would rip him from his terrors.
“Carver...” The name came out as a hard sob, eyelashes glistening from unshed tears. Fenris knew the name of the brother who had died during the voyage to Kirkwall. Twin to Bethany, one of the few mages he could tolerate. “Carver, stay back! Let me...No! Don’t go any closer!”
The thrashing began to become uncontrollable, forcing Fenris to slide on top of the bulkier male, deceptively slender hands gripping Hawke’s wrists tightly. Hawke bucked his hips and struggled valiantly, shouting obscenities and promises to save dead family and companions, but Fenris was the stronger of the two and held fast.
These nightmares were not typical – normally Fenris was the one being awakened by a panicked Hawke from his memories as a slave – yet each time something hard and bitter settled at the pit of his stomach. For months Fenris had kept quiet; a lot of his silence having to do with guilt. Now, as Fenris’ grip bordered on bruising and hot tears streamed down Hawke’s cheeks as he cried out for his mother, the elf knew the subject could no longer be ignored.
I swore to remain at his side, I did not mean just physically.
Even if he had issues dealing with emotions, his lover needed him. He could not fail, not in this.
“Hawke.” Pressing forward, Fenris’ lips brushed lightly against a dark skinned ear. “Emma lath, this is going to hurt.” Lyrium based tattoos on his body began to glow and with little effort, Fenris sent a hard jolt of energy into his rogue lover, gaining immediate results.
Hawke’s eyes snapped open, body arching as he drew in a lung full of air before going into a coughing fit. Fenris moved over to his side of the bed, deep emerald eyes watching carefully as his partner regained his senses.
Finally, Hawke sat up, rubbing his wrists. Bright golden eyes reflected the sardonic grin that had spread on full lips. “That’s one hell of a wakeup call, Fenris.” He joked. “I didn’t piss you off by kicking you out of the bed or anything, did I?”
“Hardly.” Mild irritation began to rise up within, for he had come to know Hawke over the years and could see the beginnings of ‘The Dodging Pattern’. Certain things began to make a sort of twisted sense to Fenris, things he knew would have to be worked on. Relief began to replace his previous feeling then, because he realized his lover truly wasn’t the perfect individual everyone believed. He had believed.
We’ve all put you up on a pedestal, even as we locked you in a cage and clipped your wings.
“I...” Putting a hand behind his head, Hawke sighed, his other hand wiping hastily at his face. A myriad of emotions could be seen; regret, fear, guilt, anger. “Fenris, I –“
“Just tell me.” Fenris snapped, before realizing how he sounded. Backtracking, he placed a hand on Hawke’s shoulder, sliding up to cup his cheek. Idly, his thumb brushed away the remains of a stray tear. “I mean, I am here. To be the one to shoulder your burdens as you shoulder everyone else’s.”
For a second, Fenris almost believed Hawke was going to open up. Instead, his lover gave him one of those incredibly sexy lop-sided smiles and forced out a chuckle. “It was just a nightmare. Nothing to worry over. Sorry for waking you.” He reached out, fingers ghosting along Fenris’ neck, brushing aside pale hair to trail along a pointed ear.
Closing his eyes, Fenris allowed Hawke to feel a moment of victory over trying to distract him before his hand snapped up, stopping Hawke’s ministrations. “Enough.” His eyes opened as a frown settled. “It wasn’t ‘just a nightmare’, do not play me for a fool.” He held up a hand before Hawke could protest. “I wonder, what are you afraid of?”
The question earned him a confused blink. “What?” Hawke shook his head, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Shifting, Fenris laid back down, pulling the other along, wrapping his arms around Hawke’s bulkier frame. “Does anyone even know? Has anyone ever asked you, or cared? All of these years, I have seen people come to you, confide in you. I am no more innocent than the others, but the others don’t sleep with you at night. In your nightmares, you cry out names, regrets, and I can no longer turn a blind eye to your obvious suffering. I remain forever at your side, which means your burdens are mine.”
For a long while, Hawke said nothing, settling for resting against Fenris, his head nestled on the warrior’s shoulder. Fenris cast his gaze up to the decorated ceiling, listening to the restless shuffling of Orana as she hovered around their room before retreating to her own after deeming everything to be fine. He knew it would take time for Hawke to come up with the proper words, if he could express himself at all. A wry smile twitched at the edge of Fenris’ lips in understanding. He had spent years lamenting over his decision to leave Hawke that fateful night, going over in his mind the proper words to say once he had decided to make things right between them. It had taken him three years, he could give Hawke the minutes he needed.
“Fenris,” Hawke’s voice sounded low and slightly strained. “When you look at me, do you see a hero, or a failure?”