Chaoticgood

In love with multiple fandoms Feel free to scroll through here or take a cookie and have a great day or night or whatever timeline you're in

[jobroedchen-blog]

Qun-Fenris

Continuing my comic that I started at the fenhawke week. More sword fighting and an unfortunate end.

(Part1) (Part2)

Part 3: Why is this woman smiling? Does she enjoy fighting this much? He didn’t think she could handle his first strike. But he was soon humbled for underestimating her as she took his blow and returned them with equal strength. Wondering where this woman takes her strength from he got distracted by her style of fighting. Taking her chance she lands a blow.

[midnight-life-4ever-blog]

Something Remembered, Something New

Sorry this was a little late, I’m on vacation!

Day 7 of @fenhawke-week, After Kirkwall!

The night sky was growing darker and darker as the day came to an end, but Garrett was far from being ready for bed. He was actually running around, getting the house ready for Fenris to return home. This was their first night back together since Garrett returned from the Fade, that Fenris was free of his obligation as the Blue Wraith. He had been gone since before sunrise, and the mage knew his lover would be home soon. He had their dinner cooked and ready, sitting with a heat spell keeping their plates warm before slipping the magic suppression ring back on- now a near permanent fixture on his hand after being trapped in the Fade for a decade.

He hears the door open, and Garrett enters the foyer, his eyes landing on the tired looking elf, who’s face lit up and a gentle smile filled his face as he sees his mage. “Garrett.” He rasps, clearly exhausted as his voice comes out rougher than usual. “Dinner is done.” He soothed, walking over and cupping the warrior’s face. “I have the dishes enchanted, so they’ll stay warm until we go to eat. Do you want a bath first?” He rubs his thumbs soothingly over his warrior’s cheeks, eliciting a purr from the male, bringing a smile to Garrett’s face.

”I could join you. Massage your back and shoulders while helping you wash, massage with those balms you love of mine…”

“Just my back and shoulders?”

“I can do your neck too.”

”You damn well know what I mean, mage.” Fenris shot back, but the words are teasing and rumbly through the purr, his eyes barely opening to look at his lover’s teal eyes, his pupils blown wide in relaxation, hiding most of the forest green color in his eyes that Garrett loves to be lost in.

“Yeah, I can do a full body if you want- it more so looks like you need it.” He presses a kiss to Fenris’ forehead, careful of the lyrium marking dots on the center above his brow. “You’ll be asleep before I am. Are you hurt anywhere?” The elf shakes his head, his ears now lowering in a more relaxed position, almost drooping, making Garrett giggle a little. “You look like Mhairi when she was a pup.” He murmurs, a hint of sadness threading into “pup”, and also briefly clouding his gaze. The mage had been trapped in the Fade when she passed, but Fenris reassured him that he was with her until the end, making sure she was comfortable and happy when she passed. He made sure she had some of Garrett’s clothes to lay on so she had his scent, and even buried her wrapped up in those clothes. There were days it still hurt, and days the reminders came in waves- other they came in small little jabs, such as this moment.

”Hey.” Fenris whispers, bringing Garrett out of his head. “There is something else.” The mage raised an eye brow, causing the elf to smirk as he straighten up, reaching into the small pouch attached to his waist. “I came across this on my way home today, but I have to go back and get the rest of it tomorrow.” He pulls out and hands Garrett a dark red collar, and a tag that read “Lea”.

“Lea?” Garrett echoed the name on the tag, looking at Fenris confused. “Yeah. Short for Leandra, your mother. I figured that would be an acceptable name for our new mabari.” The human’s eyes widened, shock rippling in his gaze, before tears slowly formed, his voice cracking as he spoke. “O-Our…new…”

“I know after Mhairi died, you had been beside yourself, and you shouldn’t be alone in the house while I’m gone all day.” The elf shifts. “I know normally I would have done this with you, but some nights I wake up and hear you crying in the bathroom, and you’re talking to her. I…I couldn’t just lay there and do nothing, Garrett.” He gently grasps Garrett’s waist, holding him in place, as if anchoring the pair. “On my way home today, I came across a merchant that had pups- free ones. This one, our Lea, she looks so much like Mhairi, brindle and everything- I… I couldn’t leave her.” Fenris smiles weakly. “I hope that- mmph!”

Garrett’s lips crash into Fenris’ firmly, before pulling back with a soft sob. “Thank you. Maker…thank you. You didn’t have to, but Fenris, I will never forget this- I never forget anything you do.” He looks at him, his cheeks staining with his tears. “You know, there is something I have been meaning to ask you.” The elf nods, his ears flicking with curiosity.

“Will you marry me?”

[cass-artblog]

Fenhawke Week: Free Day

“I’m slowly forgetting your face”

@fenhawke-week

I’ve been working on this project since the start and finally managed to get it to work, albeit I’m a little late for free-day 😅

Just Fenris remembering my Hawke, Corrine 💔

Also here’s Varric’s letter to accompany it, since it goes by rather quickly on screen:

[kogarashi-art]

FenHawke Week Day 8: Free Day

For my final FenHawke Week (@fenhawke-week) ficlet, I decided to go with a moment from DAI, after Hawke makes it back out of the Fade with the Inquisitor. I like to think Fenris decided to follow her, and was just delayed because she left without warning him and he had to make sure their daughter was taken care of first.

After the Nightmare

(946 words) Read on AO3

Thank the Maker for Varric, and for the Inquisitor, and for plenty of practice pushing through the worst of situations and putting on a convincing front even as she was falling apart on the inside, because Aelinn had only the barest recollection of how she managed to get from the wreck of Adamant Fortress back to the Inquisition camp.

At least she hadn’t fallen out of the rift screaming. Still, she surely looked some measure of horrified. The Inquisitor’s retinue must have taken pity on both her and Inquisitor Lavellan, and ushered them out of public sight quickly once the remaining Wardens had been dealt with and the Venatori toady pulling their strings taken into custody. Aelinn had a vague memory of promising to take a message to Weisshaupt, maybe hugging Varric like her life depended on it and even asking Blackwall if he had anything stronger than ale on him, but it was hazy. An act. A thin veneer of “keeping it together” to hide how shattered she was, because the Champion of Kirkwall couldn’t be seen for the broken thing she really was.

The next thing she knew, she sat in the Inquisitor’s personal circle of tents with a blanket around her shoulders and a tin mug of tea in her hands and a fire to warm the chill that wouldn’t leave her bones.

Cullen’s doing, probably. Ol’ Curly was sweet on the Inquisitor, after all, and had gotten nicer for it.

A laugh tried to crawl out of Aelinn’s throat, but it couldn’t escape the thoughts that had drowned the last hour or so out.

Legs.

Fangs.

So. Many. Eyes.

She shuddered, and rubbed at her burning eyes like it would purge the vision from it and couldn’t. Her brain gnawed on the memory of a chantry-sized spider like a mabari with a bone and wouldn’t let go no matter how much she begged it.

She was never going to sleep again.

Inquisitor Lavellan within arm’s reach on her own camp stool, clutching her own mug of tea, the firelight flickering in her large eyes as she stared into nothing. Sorting through her own demons. Maybe not terrified of the massive Maker-forsaken spider, but whatever she’d seen in the little things—the ones that were yet more creepy crawly spiders for Aelinn but clearly not for her—had rattled her too. She kept shooting glances at Cullen as he went about his Commanderly duties. Aelinn swallowed against the thick knot of sympathetic dread at what it might have been.

Thank the Maker, too, that she hadn’t seen Fenris in there.

Thank the Maker she’d left him behind so she wouldn’t have to think about what he’d see.

A commotion rose up somewhere outside the safety of the tents. Both women looked up as Cullen disappeared into the darkness to tend to it. Then the Inquisitor caught Aelinn’s eye, gave a weak little smile, and held up her mug in cheers.

Aelinn matched the gesture and managed a sip.

Cold. She made a face, and forced another sip anyway.

Dripping fangs. So many glossy eyes, like dead things in its mountain-sized face.

She tossed the tea and set the mug aside.

“Out of my way, Templar,” a familiar voice growled, and the cobwebs—sticky, tenacious, trapping—of terror receded just enough for Aelinn to recognize it.

Oh no.

Terrible decisions come to call, and all she had to show for it were new failures.

“Calm down, Fenris.”

“I will not calm down! I have been trying to find her for weeks, and here she is in the Void-taken end of Thedas helping your Inquis—”

Aelinn’s eyes met Fenris’s across the fire.

His markings crackled with barely-reined anger beneath Cullen’s gloved hands where they held him back, but she saw some of it bleed out as his eyes searched hers and found...what? All the cracks, all the flaws, all the broken pieces she hid from everyone else?

She’d never been able to hide it from him.

He’d always supported her anyway.

And she hadn’t trusted him enough this time.

Something in her heart cracked, and everything she’d been trying to hold back, to bottle up, since falling into the Fade with the Inquisitor spilled out in sobs.

Hands grabbed her arms, hard enough to bruise. She didn’t care. She knew those hands, knew the arms that crushed her tight against a firm chest, knew the fingers that tangled in her hair. Knew the buzz of lyrium against nerves drawn tight and sensitive by exposure to the Fade. Knew the voice that swore oath after oath in Common and Tevene, berating her for a fool and heaping her with all his own frustrations and worries.

Anchor points, all of them. Something real to drive away the nightmares.

“I’m so sorry,” she choked against his collarbone. “I shouldn’t have left you behind.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” he growled, but beneath the anger she could hear the hurt and the desperation.

The fear.

“Don’t let go,” she begged, fingers knotting in the front of his jerkin.

He gripped her tighter and buried his nose in her hair in response. “I’m not leaving.”

She believed him.

Angry words would come later—an argument over her decision to leave him and their daughter with nothing more than a hastily-scribbled note to explain her absence, a well-deserved reaming, a messy apology and every effort to repair what she had damaged between them—but for the moment, she could sink into his arms and know that he still loved her despite her faults.

And for the first time since she’d fallen back out of the rift with the Inquisitor, Aelinn felt safe.

One last round of tags for this event week:

@handsignals, @himluv, @sorcerousadventurer, @dags-over-caravans, @chaosherald, @serialsforbellara, @necromanticsoul, @sandcastlekings, @redheadsramblings, @sapphireangelbunny, @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai, @wolfsong-the-bloody-beast, @hedwigoprah, @redaresss, @mushrooms-x-moss, @grand-crow, @davrinsleftpectoral, @blackwall-my-tiny-husband, @pixiedurango, @jukkaricity, @ladyofcrowsandcoffee, @lycheecatee, @the-archons-moustache, @rooks-dagger, @maagisterpavus, @dell-amor-te, @hibiscus-wo-tabeta, @reaver-of-kirkwall, @woundedsoul12, @shadrachanki, @jellyeliart, @biowaredisasterbisexual

Tag list info.

[asexualtabris]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age II Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fenris/Male Hawke (Dragon Age) Characters: Fenris (Dragon Age), Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Anders (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras Additional Tags: Poisoning, Lyrium Fisting, Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Spirit Healer Hawke (Dragon Age)

Summary:

Marcel Hawke has been poisoned. Anders can work fast, but the poison is faster. There’s one last thing Fenris can do.

Fenris didn’t see the feathers of the blow dart until it was already in Hawke’s brown skin. With a grunt, Anders fired off a few more fireballs and Varric a few more bolts, taking out the last of the Tal-Vashoth in this stretch of the Wounded Coast. Hawke fell heavily to his knees, his staff clattering to the rocky ground.

For @fenhawke-week !! It’s Free Day, so here’s something that I wrote based on a discussion that was had wayyy back when we first started the discord server. I’ve borrowed Marcel Hawke from @hekaerges 💜

[loustica-lucia]

Fenhawke Week — Safe Place (Free Day)

Day 1 ✦ Day 2 ✦ Day 3 ✦ Day 4 ✦ Day 5 ✦ Day 6 ✦ Day 7 ✦ Day 8 Day 8 of @fenhawke-week 2026

(Fenris & Eleena Amell Hawke, 9:41 Dragon, Skyhold)

When Varric asked Hawke to come to Skyhold, they went together. After barely making it out alive, they got married.

By Inquisition era, they have longer hair, as they runaway from Kirkwall when the rebellion started. Hawke used "Amell" to hide, and they both moved from taverns to taverns, helping mages escape on the their way.

If you'd like to read more about Fenhawke in Inquisition, here's a long oneshot I wrote years ago about "Here Lies the Abyss", except Fenris IS THERE.

WIPs

[jobroedchen-blog]

Last day of the @fenhawke-week 2026 Free prompt for this day. A small little Fenris for the last day of Fenhawke week. It was a fun event to take part in ✨

[fenhawke-week]

Day 8 Prompts: Free-for-all Fenhawke Friday!! & Free

It's finally here everyone, the final day of the Fenhawke Week 2026!!!

Thank you to everyone who has participated so far - it is so awesome to see so many new finished and published Fenhawke fics, art and other creations as a way to celebrate Fenris and Hawke.

This last day of the event, anything goes - go wild! Finish a WIP you've had for ages, or make something totally new.

If you haven't finished your Fenhawke Week creations yet, don't panic. You can still add to the A03 Collection and submit to the blog after the event. It just might take us mods a little longer to approve or reblog.

Happy Fenhawke Free-For-All Friday Everyone!!

*****

If you would like to join the Fenhawke Server and continue the celebration all year (and submit prompt ideas for next year) then DM mods @rakshadow and @inatrice

[midnight-life-4ever-blog]

First time for everything, I suppose

Day 6 of @fenhawke-week, Demands of the Qun!

The Arishok was wearing him out.

Garrett had to keep running, keep dodging the powerful rouge- the nearly double-his-size Qunari- in this battle of honor.

Honor.

Something Isabela lacked when she ran from Kirkwall with the Tome of Koslun in her grasp, leaving Garrett and the others empty handed.

He wanted to help the Arishok- for the Maker’s sake, for the last 7 years, he had been helping the Qunari that had been lurking at the docks since his own arrival to Kirkwall after fleeing Lothering. But to actually face him down in a fight…even this was a lot for the mage to face on his own.

But, to the Qunari, he was basalit-an. He was considered an outsider still, yes, but a respected outsider.

Garrett barely dodges the next attack, rolling into a pillar as he stumbles. Damn, Arishok is fast on his fe- The mage’s train of thought is cut off by the axe getting slammed into his shoulder, forcing him away from the pillar with a sharp cry of pain. “Get up, Hawke!” Aveline called out, the guard captain standing helplessly by; Fenris and Anders stood quietly behind her, the elf’s gaze however, was locked onto Garrett.

He scrambles to his feet just as the qunari barrels by, feeling the wind whip his dark auburn hair around his face. He chugs a mana potion, casting a quick fireball as the Arishok catches his breath.

However, Garrett doesn’t see the next attack come while he is drinking a health potion- until he feels like he is getting split in half at the abdomen. He lets out a choked cry of pain as he is lifted about the qunari’s head, feeling himself slide down the blade painfully, barely moving millimeters at a time with each pained breath. The blade seemed to burn as it carved its way deeper and deeper, the blood dripping out of the injury dripping down the handle, beginning to coat his opponent’s hand and stain it red.

His vision begins to darken as his hearing begins to dull as well.

I failed, he thought, his eyes closing. I failed Kirkwall. I failed Bethany, then Carver, Mother, and now my own city. Why couldn’t I break the cycle of failure and-

“GARRETT!”

The mage’s eyes snap back open as his name rung across the room, the pain in the voice seemingly bringing him back to himself as the Arishok shoved him off his blade. Garrett weakly pulls a potion out and downs it again, rising to his feet as his hand touches his abdomen, feeling the new scar that formed where a sword had been just moments ago; his clothes torn and exposing the slight plumpness that had begun forming since moving into the estate. He glances over at his companions, seeing their shocked expressions- but lingering on Fenris’. It wasn’t shock that colored the tattooed elf’s face- rather, it was fear- and coupled with how he screamed Garrett’s name for the first time, rather than ‘Hawke’, that hit the mage deeper than any injury the Arishok could inflict on him.

Seeing the fear in his closest companions eyes- the one person he could trust, turn to; the one who stayed by his side after losing his mother to a blood mage; who wore his favor on his dominant wrist- that broke something in him.

He takes a deep and focused breath, focusing back to the fight on hand. His spells came out more forcefully, a new determined stance and objective in mind.

Before, he was fighting for Kirkwall.

But now?

Now, he was fighting for the one man he loved more than anything in all of Thedas.

After the Arishok fell, Garrett watches his body go limp, nodding to the other Qunari as they left. His eyes rose to meet with Fenris’, his hand pressing into the deep wound in his abdomen. He gives a wry smile, a soft sparkle in his eyes, before they roll back, collapsing at the feet of the dead Arishok.

[kogarashi-art]

FenHawke Week #7 - After Kirkwall

Did this FenHawke Week (@fenhawke-week) piece take longer than I anticipated? Definitely. Do I think it was worth it? Definitely.

Maybe playing a bit loose with the "After Kirkwall" prompt, but I wanted to depict the whole "Thank the Maker we both survived that" kiss one might be inclined to do after a big fight. Namely the whole mess in the Gallows after the chantry explosion. The city might be on fire, Meredith might be a highly unsettling statue, Anders and Sebastian might both be off the friend list, but Hawke and Fenris survived, and for the moment that's what matters most to the both of them. This is "After the whole mess that went down in Kirkwall is kind of resolved, at least for now."

Featuring several layers of textures, splatter effects, shadow and highlight accenting, etc., this is definitely the piece this week that took the most work, but I'm really happy with how it turned out.

Tag! Come look!

@handsignals, @himluv, @sorcerousadventurer, @dags-over-caravans, @chaosherald, @serialsforbellara, @necromanticsoul, @sandcastlekings, @redheadsramblings, @sapphireangelbunny, @genjyoandgojyoandhakkai, @wolfsong-the-bloody-beast, @hedwigoprah, @redaresss, @mushrooms-x-moss, @grand-crow, @davrinsleftpectoral, @blackwall-my-tiny-husband, @pixiedurango, @jukkaricity, @ladyofcrowsandcoffee, @lycheecatee, @the-archons-moustache, @rooks-dagger, @maagisterpavus, @dell-amor-te, @hibiscus-wo-tabeta, @reaver-of-kirkwall, @woundedsoul12, @shadrachanki, @jellyeliart, @biowaredisasterbisexual

Tag list info.

[jobroedchen-blog]

Day seven of the @fenhawke-week 2026 The prompts were After Kirkwall | Rivalry

No one gets away with hurting Hawke if the Blue Wraith is around.

[rakshadow]

For Day 7 of @fenhawke-week - prompt: After Kirkwall

Fenris x Ash Hawke - Red is the Colour of the Heart

Red

Red blood. Blood spatter, life. The colour of the heart. Red ribbon. Tied favour, A - Promise from the start. Two red birds. Carved in stone, They'll never be alone. Red lyrium. Fevered thoughts. Pushes them apart. Red sands. A silence breaks, Red sun is their new start.

Red flame. The hearthfire burns. The colour of the heart.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

This is a remix of a Fenhawke art piece I did last year and my second go at making digital art! It is mixed media - collage with a lamp shone through the back and photographed, then painted over digitally with a semi-opaque layer. I thought the cracks in the paint layer make it look like blood spatter on their faces and clothes -very fitting for them! The poem is about Ash and Fenris' journey. After leaving Kirkwall, Ash is listless and Fenris focuses on killing slavers. They spend time apart and come back together, and - even though long distance eventually doesn't work out for them - I imagine this is a moment they reunite after Ash meets up with Fenris and helps him in battle. They are always happy to see each other! It is also a nod to the red lyrium and Ash leaving for Skyhold, pushing Fenris away, but their subsequent reunion and repair of their relationship into something more sustainable and healthy.

[cass-artblog]

Fenhawke Week Day 7: Rivalry/Rivalmance

@fenhawke-week

Another teaser for my fic White Wolf, Crimson Favor ❤️

As tensions rise at the tourney, Corrine and Fenris end up at each other’s throats in more ways than one 😏

[loustica-lucia]

Fenhawke Week — After Kirkwall

Day 1 ✦ Day 2 ✦ Day 3 ✦ Day 4 ✦ Day 5 ✦ Day 6 ✦ Day 7 ✦ Day 8 Day 7 of @fenhawke-week 2026

(Fenris, Eleena Amell Hawke, Vaea, Francesca Invidus, Ser Aaron Hawthorne, Dragon and Autumn the mabaris , circa 9:45 Dragon)

Giving some love to these comic characters because despite its many flaws, I enjoyed The Wraiths of Tevinter trilogy 💖

WIPs

[contrivedcoincidences6]

The Last of the Real Ones

I've been working on this for so long! And then it ended up being perfect for day 6 of FenHawke week: Demands of the Qun. @fenhawke-week

This will be multi chap! Some from Hawke's POV, some from Fenris.

"I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you, but not as much as I do." ~The Last Of The Real Ones, Fall Out Boy

***

When the blood was finally done pounding in her ears, Hawke reached into her pocket for a rag to wipe the Qunari blood from her daggers. They had only just made it to Hightown, and she was already exhausted, not a promising start when she still had to make it to the Keep. 

As she reached into her pocket, she heard the crinkle of the balled-up paper that she’d hastily stored there an hour before. She pulled her hand back, as if burnt.  

You don't have to forgive me, but I hope you understand.

The parting words from Isabela were tattooed into her heart. 

She shouldn’t be thinking of Isabela at a time like this, but the pain still lanced through her chest. 

They’d been the best of friends, they’d shared a bed for a time, but Isabela hadn’t seemed to hesitate when the time came to leave. 

For all of her pirate ways, Hawke would have never believed that she’d abandon them. 

Abandon her, typical. 

“Hawke!” Fenris’s sharp shout pulled her out of her rumination. “Saarebas!” 

It was all she needed to lock the pain away into the vault where she stored the rest of her grief: Fenris walking away, Carver joining the Templars, her parents’ and Bethany’s deaths.

What was one more heartbreak amongst so many? 

The fog of battle took over. 

Hawke danced around the battlefield, letting her daggers do the talking, as she fade stepped between her allies, trying to take down the Qunari mage one cut and stab at a time. 

But the Saarebas seemed completely unharmed by their attacks, and she began casting less than subtle magic, growing desperate watching her friends taking one hit after another. 

Using her magic without her staff for so long was wearing on her, though. 

Exhaustion tightened its grip, and after another cast of haste on her companions, darkness filled the corners of her vision. 

She’d gotten quite practiced at using her daggers as a focus, she’d even had a small vein of Lyrium added to the handles, but at the end of the day they were just regular daggers. 

They weren’t her staff, a relic passed down from her father, filled with the fade and ready to sustain her. 

There was danger in pulling out her staff, but as she watched Varric fall to his knees after stray lightning caught him, she knew what she had to do. 

Better caught than dead, she thought as she finally pulled her staff from her back, dropping her daggers to the ground without a second glance. 

As soon as her hands met the Silverite grip, she felt more at ease, and the battle truly began. 

Still got it, she thought with a grin as she sent multiple small flares into the Saarebas’s face, which seemed to panic the mage for a moment, leaving Aveline with an opportunity to knock him back. 

They continued their assault, pushing the mage back into a corner of the courtyard, and for a minute Hawke thought they might win. 

Until the Qunari exploded a blast of pure electrical energy out from his body, throwing them all back like ragdolls. 

Metal from her shoulder guard sliced a vicious bloody cut along Hawke’s jaw as she hit the ground hard enough to make her vision go blurry. 

For a second, she couldn’t breathe, but she gathered herself quickly and sat up. 

Her vision swam. The Qunari approached them, gathering power in his palms. 

Hawkes eyes tracked across the ground to see Varric laying nearby, Bianca just out of reach, eyes wide as he watched the mage, bracing himself for the deathblow. 

The power grew, and Hawke tried to scramble up, but the force of his will held them all down. With the light growing brighter by the second, her eyes searched for the rest of her friends, for Fenris, but the glare blocked them from her view. 

Until suddenly it was gone, leaving only the dim light of the evening and the sound of distant screams in its wake. 

The Saarebas looked at his empty hands in confusion, until a blade pierced his chest and he crumpled to the ground. 

Before the body could hit the stones, his head was gone, blood painted the ground as well as Hawke’s arm and cheek crimson.  

“Andraste’s tits, wha-” Hawke started before looking up to see the Knight-Commander standing before her. 

She’d seen Meredith from afar a couple times, and she’d heard the stories about the Knight-Commander’s cruelty, but she was certainly a sight to behold. 

A knight from the fairy tales that had been read to her as a girl, but unlike those heroes, Meredith was not the salvation Hawke was looking for. 

Behind the gleaming armor and the confident stance, stood Hawke’s jailer. 

Meredith reached down casually to pull Hawke to her feet, but Hawke hesitated, staring at the Templar’s hand like it was a viper waiting to strike. 

She met the woman’s eyes, but the only thing she could read on her face was that the Knight-Commander of the Kirkwall circle had seen her using magic. 

Well, nothing to lose now, Hawke thought, and briefly considered going full abomination. At least then she could go out with a bang. 

But the Templar broke through her grim thoughts as she simply took hold of Hawke’s hand and pulled her up. 

“I am Knight-Commander Meredith,” she said, command seeping from every word. 

She took a moment to really look at Hawke. 

It had to be a sight: a bedraggled and beaten mage, covered in blood and viscera, trying not to cower before the most powerful Templar in the city. 

Meredith’s eyes narrowed, a predator circling her prey.

“I know you.” 

Hawke tried to transform her face into her usual grin and let out a chuckle. 

“You must spend a lot of time at the Rose.” 

The joke fell flatter than usual.

“You are Ser Carver’s sister.” 

For a moment Hawke was ready to track her brother across the city and throttle him, let the Knight-Commander try to stop her, but then the other woman’s face and tone turned into something more dangerous than recognition. 

“Strange that he has never mentioned you.” 

Fear, blinding and hot, replaced her irritation at her brother, the last remaining member of her family.

Before Hawke could say something stupid, or possibly run in the opposite direction, Aveline spoke. 

“It’s good that we found you, Knight-Commander. The Qunari are-” 

Meredith cut the Guard Captain off, her vigilant eyes scanning the courtyard, probably checking for more Apostates who’d taken up arms, clearly not caring what Aveline had to say. 

Hawke was supremely grateful that she’d told Merrill to defend the Alienage and Anders’ Darktown. 

The Circle would be a death sentence for either of them, worse than a death sentence: tranquility. 

“It’s obvious what they’re doing. The Qunari are taking people to the Keep and may already be in control. We will need to deal with them.” 

Her eyes were narrowed, looking down the streets of Hightown, seeing a challenge. 

A chill ran down Hawke’s spine; she suddenly wasn’t as worried about the Qunari taking over the city as she pictured the Knight-Commander crowing herself Viscount. 

“Always happy to help in a life-threatening crisis,” Hawke offered, an innocent grin plastering her face. 

Meredith turned her sharp gaze back to Hawke, assessing her and apparently finding her at least capable of fighting the Qunari invaders. 

“Good,” she started, face hard as stone, “I’ll overlook your own use of magic. For the moment.”

A vice tightened around Hawke; her time had run out. 

She told Hawke to meet her at the Keep and strode away, excited to exact violence against the invaders. 

Hawke stared after her for a moment, wrapped in a cocoon of dissociation. 

This wasn’t real. In fact, none of the past few weeks was real. 

Soon she’d wake up in her own bed, a handsome elf wrapped around her. 

Down the hall her mother would be alive and intact. 

Hell, if she was fantasizing, she might as well go all the way and have her sister and father there too. 

Maybe Carver wouldn’t hate her. 

Her fantasy was disturbed by said handsome elf grabbing her arm and swinging her around to face him. 

“Hawke, do you hear what we are saying?” Fenris asked, emerald eyes searching her face. 

“That the Qunari and the Templars wiped each other out and they’re serving free drinks at the Hanged Man?” 

He ignored her. 

“You must flee Kirkwall.” 

Hawke frowned at him, completely lost. 

“Well, we should really all be fleeing, right? Why not leave this blighted city to the oxmen?” 

“I’m serious Hawke, they will take you to the Circle in the morning if you remain,” Fenris was gripping both her shoulders, his blood covered gauntlets digging into her skin just enough to sting. 

“He’s right Hawke, we’ve gotta get you out of here,” Varric spoke up, tension creasing his brows as he laid a hand on her arm. 

She struggled out of Fenris’s hold. 

“I wish I could, boys, but I’ve got a date with the Arishok. I hear he gets a bit bullish if you leave him waiting.” 

“Fasta vass! This isn’t a joke, Hawke!” Fenris said through clenched teeth. 

Hawke took a moment to study him. 

His was coiled so tight that she thought he might be propelled upwards with a single touch, his breaths were coming fast, hands fisted tight at his sides. Biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes grazed past the now familiar sight of her red scarf tied around his wrist. 

His eyes blazed but underneath the usual protective anger, she saw real fear. 

The one wonderful night they’d spent together she recalled holding his face in her hands, his expression softer than she’d ever seen it, wishing she could drive the fear away forever. 

The memory twisted something inside of her, filling her with sudden irritation with him. Standing there, wearing her scarf, and trying to protect her. 

Not really knowing what to do with this rare frustration with him, she lashed out. 

“I would have thought you’d be happy to see another Apostate carted off to the Circle,” Hawke said. 

Her voice was light but there was a simmering meanness to the statement that was so unusual that everyone was silent for a long moment. 

Aveline’s eyebrows reached her hairline while her eyes darted between the two of them. Varric grimaced and rubbed his forehead. 

But Fenris looked as if she’d struck him and she wanted to eat her words. 

Before she could say anything more Varric spoke up, still looking pained. 

“Just, Hawke- look there’s still time to get out of here. You’ve got money, I’ve got connections. We could get you anywhere you want to go. If they take you to the Circle, they’ll never let you out.” 

It was true, but her decision was already made. She wouldn’t leave Kirkwall to her fate. That didn’t stop from her heart breaking at the pleading look Varric wore and the tears in Aveline’s eyes as she forced her gaze away. 

Most of all she hated the shattered look Fenris wore, as he gazed down at the ground, waiting for it to swallow him up. 

She buried her grief; there was work to do. 

“Then let’s make it one hell of a final night,” Hawke declared with a smirk, picking her staff off of the ground. 

She no longer needed to hide, that, at least, was freeing.

“Hawke, please.” 

Fenris’s plea was quiet. She turned to him with a small sad, and hopefully apologetic, smile. 

Turning to him with a, hopefully apologetic, smile she said, “Come on, let’s save Kirkwall.” 

The smile fell from her face as she turned away from her friends. 

In truth, she wasn’t as scared as she thought she’d be, most of her life the threat of the Circle had hung over her like a coming storm. 

From the age of 10, when she’d first made lightning, there had been a real chance she’d end up a prisoner of the Chantry. 

But at least she’d be going on her terms, trying to save the city and people she loved. 

Carver would be there to protect her, and she’d be in the company of other mages, maybe she’d learn something. 

Maybe you won’t even make it to the Circle, a little voice whispered. 

These thoughts were familiar, a warm blanket her subconscious laid over her pain from time to time.

Making a graceful exit from this life wasn’t the worst idea, but there was too much to do, too many people to save. 

Some things must be worse than slavery.

Fenris had said when Anders had badgered him on the topic.

Hawke didn’t believe in the Maker, but she believed in Fenris, if he could make it all those years without giving up, she could push through. 

But, hey, if the choice was taken out of her hands…

It didn’t sound too bad; going out in a blaze of glory. 

Better than possibly being made Tranquil in the Circle. 

They fought their way through Hightown; she let her magic rain down upon their enemies, stronger than usual with her staff in hand. 

It felt incredible to let it all go in a way she rarely had before. 

Despite the darkness, she felt lighter than she had in some time. 

The last few weeks of grief and pain peeled away as she fought, funneling her pain into every movement of her staff until there was nothing left of her but the mana in her blood.

[fenhawke-week]

Day 7 Prompts: After Kirkwall & Rivalry

[midnight-life-4ever-blog]

Last Hawke by name

Day 5 of @fenhawke-week, Family

CW for familial death and body preparation

Garrett sobbed as he held the body that held his mother’s face, his arms tightly gripping her to his chest as he wailed. Quentin, the blood mage that ultimately killed her, laid dead mere inches away, his blood seeping into the wedding dress Leandra has been forced into once her head was attached to the other woman’s body.

Her body cooled quickly, and it was a harsher cold than Bethany’s body had been when she had been killed by the ogre, and Carver’s nearly rivaled this cold when he died from the taint during the Deep Roads expedition. Darkspawn taint and blood mage made their bodies much, much colder than Bethany’s. The mage trembled, feeling a familiar hand rest on his shoulder. “Don’t touch me.” He snapped, his tone uncharacteristically cold to Fenris, who stepped back, not hurt by his words, as he understood that Garrett was hurting.

The mage stood, holding Leandra against his body as he turned and walked towards the exit of the foundry, using the cover of night to go to the Estate and prepare her body. He took her into her room, laying her in her bed as he left the room to change into a simpler set of clothes, grabbing what he needed to clean her body and one of her favorite dresses, looking at her in the stained wedding gown. A soft knock on the door soon came, causing his head to snap up, seeing Anders.

”I… have experience cleaning bodies. I came to help.” The Grey Warden offered gently. “I know there isn’t much else I can do to help ease your pain, but I can help ease the burden of preparing her.” Garrett remained silent, but nodded, stepping back. “I…I can’t do this alone.” He rasped, his voice worn from his earlier sobs. “That’s exactly why I am here.” The blond man soothed, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I can start on her body, get these clothes discarded and clean her skin. Go out on the balcony and take a breather. I’ll let you know when I have this dress on.”

Garrett hesitates for a moment, looking down at his mother.

”It’s alright. She would understand.”

The heartbroken mage nods silently, turning and exiting his mother’s room, moving to the balcony. As he stands there, looking out on the cold city of Kirkwall, he feels a hand on his shoulder. “That was fast, An-“ As he turns, he’s greeted by Fenris’ forest green eyes. “Fenris…” He swallows hard. “I…I am so sorry about earlier. I…I didn’t mean…”

“I know.” The elf murmured quietly, squeezing the mage’s shoulder gently. “I may not have known my family, but I know you loved yours deeply. I am sorry I cannot ease the burden more for you. I feel like that abomination is being better to you than I am.”

Garrett let out a shaky breath, reaching up and lacing his fingers through Fenris’ on his shoulder, giving him a light smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Anders is just preparing her body. Helping me with that. You are doing more than him by being here, making sure I don’t lose myself to my grief.” His other hand reaches up and cups the warrior’s cheek gently. “Reminding me that there is still good things in my life that I can still protect. Still people I love and want to keep close.”

Fenris lets out a quiet huff, his ears flicking as his ears turn pink. “Weird moment to flirt, mage.” He marred weakly, causing a light chuckle to spill from Garrett’s throat. “But it is true. You are making sure I don’t lose myself to the grief….right?” He sounds unsure, suddenly doubting Fenris’ possible intentions. “No…well, a little.” The elf begrungingly admits, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, glancing away. “When you walked off with your mother, I was…concerned you weren’t yourself. Like… really not yourself. That you were going to keep yourself holed up in this estate.”

”Who says I won’t still?”

“Touché”

Garrett shakes his head at Fenris’ retort. “I was going to try not to. I was considering the wine cellar, but its not as fun raiding it alone and drowning in grief. If I am going to drink to forget…” He tucks a strand of white hair behind the pointed ear of his lover, the touch lingering a moment longer before the hand is pulled away. “…will you stay tonight?” He asks. “The house will be empty and I am not sure if I can handle that right now.” Fenris nods, squeezing his hand again as he removes it from the mage’s shoulder, the hands now joined by their hips.

“Do you want my help preparing Leandra as well?” The human shakes his head. “I’ll let Anders help me with that. Can you keep Mhairi company in our- my room, please?” He swallows hard and looks away nervously at the slip up, not expecting him to call his bedroom ‘our bedroom’ to Fenris, the words almost giving away the question Garrett had been dying to ask the elf. But he does not seem to notice the slip up- or if he does, the elf is choosing to disregard it, as he nods and gives Garrett’s hand one more squeeze, before leading him back inside, kissing his shoulder gently before leading the brindle mabari to the master bedroom.

Garrett reenters the bedroom where Leandra laid now in her finest dress she loved, Anders mixing up some herbs in a bowl, lifting his head to look at the other mage. “You look a little better, Hawke. The fresh air help?” He nods silently, walking over and smelling the herbs. “Lavender, bergamot and… sage?” He looks curiously at the blond. “Sage helps block the scent of death along with bergamot. Lavender was just to help make the herbs not as bland smelling.”

The mages continue preparing her body in the quiet, the fire crackling in the room the only sound heard between them. Garrett took hesitant breaths at times, gripping one of the pillars of the bed frame to steady himself from the reality over and over again playing in his mind- that he was the last Hawke.

Malcom was gone.

Bethany was gone.

Carver was gone.

And now…

Now Leandra was gone too.

As soon as Anders was done with the body, he walks over and guides Garrett out of the room, the auburn headed mage’s feet dragging some as he was guided out, as if he was trudging through the mud. Fenris must have heard them, as he stepped out of the room, approaching and gently taking Garrett out of Anders’ hands, a rare look of appreciation in the elf’s eyes to the abomination, before leading his partner into the bedroom, closing the door with a firm click of the latch. In the time Garrett had been with Anders, Fenris had drawn a warm bath, guiding him to the bath and helping him strip and eased into the warm water, Garrett not fighting him as the elf bathed him. “I can do it myself.” He muttered weakly, but Fenris did not respond back, just leaning down to kiss his shoulder again in comfort, continuing to focus on the grime, blood and sweat that clung to the other male’s body, being gentle with his touches as to not hurt Garrett any further.

Fenris hold onto the mage silently as his body shook against the elf’s, letting him feel and let out everything through the pain with tears and sobs. He doesn’t know how long he laid awake before Garrett finally was asleep, the trembling easing the deeper into sleep he falls, his grip on the warrior relaxing into a limp grip. The elf watches him sleep, continuing to stroke his hair in the stillness of the room, the only sounds being his lover’s breathing, the crackling of the fire, and the quite huffs from the brindle mabari in front of the fire. He didn’t seem to mind the quite, though. His ears twitch softly as his mind drifted, Garrett was going to need him for a short time. Was going to need his help in moving on, to help remind him that he is still Garrett- and unfortunately, have to remind him he was still needed by Kirkwall as the Qunari threat grew more and more worrisome.

But that was a future Fenris problem.

Right now, his concern was for his mage. The man in his arms that just moments ago was clinging to him like a lifeline, and was trusting him to stay.

And stay, Fenris would.