Before the Abyss
Pairing: Marian Hawke x Fenris
Just a little one shot I wrote for a contest between friends last year. I found it again and realized I never posted it. Figured I’d share since I wanna start posting here more! We’ll see though.
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The sound of the even, measured, breaths beside her were hard to ignore. The rhythmic inhale and exhale somehow sweeter than any melody. Perhaps it was because it was rare for Fenris to be the first to fall asleep, and even rarer for him to look so at peace. It was a mesmerizing sight, something she was doing her very best to commit to memory.
Moonlight poured in from their inn room window, bathing him in an almost ethereal glow. His white hair shined, a messy halo that framed his narrow face and pointed ears. His usually furrowed, brooding visage was unusually relaxed, making him look more his age. With his armor removed, and only his lower half covered by the sheets of their shared bed, her eyes could follow many of the pale lyrium markings that covered every inch of his tanned skin. She had kissed the swirling pattern mere hours before, her lips tracing every inch of his scarred flesh. A part of her craved to do so again, but Hawke dared not move, not wanting to risk him stirring and pulling him from a rare sweet dream.
Though his magic markings often gave him pain, he claimed to find relief in her touch… and though it baffled her how it could be so, it made her happy to help in some way. How he had gotten them still haunted him, the pain creeping up when he dreamt. In this way, she slowly replaced it with new memories, sweeter touches, and kinder words. As blunt and straightforward as they both tended to be, it was a wonder at the tenderness exhibited in their almost nightly ritual. A rarity that they shared with only each other.
Her want, however, could not be considered completely altruistic. The wish to touch the handsome elven man before her was something instinctual, a primal urge whenever she looked at him. There was something about committing oneself to another that felt intoxicating, and each hour that passed by without participating was another that left the heart aching.
Though, to be clear, Hawke felt no ownership over Fenris. She would not touch him unless he allowed her to first. He had suffered enough lifetimes as someone else's pet, his body not being his own. She would never, could never, claim to own it like other wonton lovers often claim one another. He was hers, just as much as she was his… but their body and will would always be their own.
She was humbled by the trust he put in her... Honored that she could be his solstice… and perhaps, where it any other night, this notion would have lulled her into a contented slumber.
But not tonight.
Tonight she struggled, because it made what she had to do that much harder.
“It’s rather rude to stare.”
Though eyes still closed, the deep gravel in the voice was unmistakably his, the breath of his words accompanied by the sweet smell of the wine they had shared that evening.
So lost in thought, she had uncharacteristically missed the change in his breath, a telltale sign that signaled he was awake. Even so, she could not help but smile, unashamed of being caught in her trance. “Did I wake you?”
Fenris’ eyes fluttered open, mesmerizing green eyes meeting her pale blue. His lips pulled into a smile that caught her breath, giving her the kind of sultry look that only good wine seemed capable of setting free from him. “And here I thought I was still dreaming.”
Hawke wasn’t the type to blush from pretty words, and it was clear that her beloved was feeling the effects of the alcohol in his system. However, even tispy, Fenris did not say things he did not mean… and so her heart leapt in response to his sweet nothings. Even more so as one of his hands moved from her waist to her face, his thumb rubbing against her cheek.
“Shall we test it?” she smiled back, mischievous in nature, before leaning in to kiss him, her body melting into his as it often did when he touched her.
The kiss was rough, but tender, a paradox that reflected their personalities. After a moment, he pulled back, regarding her through lidded eyes. Even still affected by sleep, and half intoxicated, he looked at her in a way that felt like he could see through her. She shivered in response.
“What’s on your mind?”
“You.”
It wasn’t a lie… not completely.
The truth was more complicated, more polarizing. It was one that she had been unable to tell him the moment she’d hid away the letter she had received from Varric a few days before, the contents asking for her help.
There was a sense of foreboding that came with it, a realization that was hard to bear. A part of her, somehow, knew what would come of such an undertaking, knew what risks came from pursuing what her dear old friend had explained in his hurried letter.
She also knew the choice that she was taking from Fenris by not showing him, knew the trust that she was breaking by not telling him. She had thought of doing it, if only because it was the right thing to do. He had followed her through more troubles than she could count, had stood by her against his own beliefs, and she knew she owned him that much.
Yet old words spoken to her had come back, ones she had nearly forgotten.
"We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment... and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly. You have my thanks... and my sympathy."
For such a message to come back to her, she knew what it meant. The danger that was coming toward her.
“I’ve caused you so much trouble, I’m surprised I haven’t scared you off yet,” she masked her words in tired jest, a light and airy facade a little too easy to pull off. If he caught on, he didn’t show it, and she knew that if he was sober he would have noticed the undertext hidden in her words. Even so, not wanting her expression to give it away, she pulled close and burned her face into his chest.
“So much… but I would follow you into the fade itself,” he half mumbled drowsily, amused in tone, into her hair, his arms encircling her.
That was the problem wasn’t it?
It took everything in her to hold back the sting that prickled at her eyes, tears threatening to spill out but she couldn’t allow it. The moment they did, he would know, and she could not let her resolution be broken. Fenris would rather die than let her put herself into harm's way, but Hawke would rather die than allow that to happen.
Marian Hawke was not afraid of death. However, she refused to watch anyone else she loved die in front of her. Her parents… Carver… She would not let Fenris be added to that list. Even if the choice to do so was purely his own.
“I love you,” she whispered, wondering if he would think her cruel in the morning for saying it.
When he woke up, she would not be there.
Even though he had not been so cruel when he had left her their first night together, she knew him too well to offer the same courtesy. Any conversation would end with him coming anyway. In this way, he would try to look for her, but she knew better than to make it easy on him. By the time he realized where she had gone, her business with Varric and his Inquisitor would be done.
If she survived he could chastise her then. She would happily face his ire.
If she didn’t…
Well, at least he’d be alive.
But for a few more hours she focused on the present, listening to his breath slow as he fell back to sleep, and committing to memory the feeling of being in his arms.
Whatever tomorrow may bring, she would ignore for now.
The abyss could wait.