Fenris/male mage Hawke: Hawke has a chronic disease/condition and makes his own herbal tea to alleviate symptoms. One day he runs out of a vital herb that does not grow in Kirkwall and it will take a week to ship, Hawke can’t wait that long. Let me know if you need more detail or it doesn’t make sense.
He is no stranger to pain. Heknows what the ache feels like, deep in the bone. Some ancient hurt still inthe blood, flowing through every vein. In the hours before all others wake, hestretches. Massaging at his arms and at his legs, trying to wipe away the pinsthat prick at the corner of his markings. Fenris watches the way Hawke walks,recognizes it all too well. The hunched shoulders, the smaller steps. The deepsighs, shuddering breath. Leaning on his staff and doing every little thing totry and make it stop, to not make it worse.
The others are going to theHanged Man, Hawke is going home. Fenris pauses in the street, slowly followsafter Hawke. In time to see him duck into an alleyway, to lean against thewall, slowly fall to his knees as he struggles to breath. Fenris instantlydrops to his knees before him, reaching out to him. Hawke holds onto himtightly, hands shaking. “I never wanted you to see me like this,” he weaklylaughs. Fenris’s ears drop, flatten, the line of his mouth worrying. “I’musually so good at ordering the herbs I need, but we’ve been so busy lately andI – forgot. Can you believe it?”
“Tell me what you need, and itis yours,” Fenris says.
“It’s fine, I already orderedmore, and it’s just taking a long –”
“Hawke,” Fenris interruptsquietly, “what can I do?” Fenris’s hands are on his shoulders, his back,gentler than he deserves. Hawke looks up, feels guilt at the words that slipfrom his mouth.
“Stay with me.” Small silence,looking at each other, and Fenris slowly nods. Slipping an arm under his,around him, helping Hawke to his feet. He draws Hawke’s arm over his shoulder,picks up his staff. They take the backstreets Fenris knows so well, away fromprying eyes. Hawke can only lean on him, every step burning agony. It’s norelief to sit, but it is better just to be away from the street, safety insidethe estate.
“You should have Bodahn draw a hotbath,” Fenris says as he kneels before him. Taking off his gauntlets, letting themrest on the floor beside him. “It will help ease some of the pain.” Some startlednoise tangles on Hawke’s tongue as Fenris brings Hawke’s foot into his lap,begins to untie the boots.
“Please,” Hawke says weakly, “youdon’t have to do this.” Fenris ignores him, undoes the other boot. Handssqueezing on Hawke’s ankles, fingertips digging into skin, slowly massagingtheir way upwards. The favor screams red around his wrist, and Hawke can’t helpbut stare at it.
“When will the herbs arrive?”Fenris asks.
“Three days out, still,” Hawkesays.
“Every morning you will take ahot bath, and then I will help you with this,” Fenris says. Hawke hates this,hates that it helps, hates himself.
“Fenris, please, you don’t haveto do this.”
“Why?” He snaps angrily, lookingup. Frowning behind choppy bangs, his hands still around Hawke’s leg. “You toldme once that there is no shame in asking for help.”
“You think that this – Hawke. Iam helping you because I choose to, not because you – you are a foolish,ridiculous man,” he says, the last worst muttered underneath his breath.
“I know,” Hawke says quietly. Fenris continueshis work, pointedly looking only at Hawke’s knee. Hawke can only look at him, andeven without the massage, Hawke thinks he still would have felt better justsimply being in his presence.
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