Hi, Love your writing. If you are amable how about a little spoon Geralt with Jaskier as big spoon? Maybe with a side of teasing from either Jaskier or Lambert?
Geralt isn’t used to being touched tenderly. He’s used to being shoved or prodded, punched or kicked, made to feel like an animal.
The first time Jaskier squeezes his shoulder in an affectionate gesture, he freezes up, too stunned to react, sure it was a mistake. Jaskier is more careful after that, easing in slowly. Knocking their legs together when they sit in a busy tavern. Running a hand down his arm when he helps remove his armour. Softly scratching at his scalp when he washes filth out of his hair after a long hunt.
It’s... nice, when Jaskier touches him. It’s still strange, and it sometimes makes him feel like a cornered animal, snarling and defensive. But Jaskier seems to have no qualms and no expectations. He simply touches him because... well, because he wants to, as bizarre as that seems.
They often need to sleep close by at night, what with cold autumn evenings and only enough coin for a single room at an inn. When they do, Geralt curls in on himself, tries to make his body take up as little room as possible. It seems only fair for him not to intrude on Jaskier’s space. It must be difficult enough for any human to be so close to a witcher, though Jaskier is brave and he never objects.
The months of tentative touches culminate in a difficult, ugly contract. Sometimes the worst monsters turn out not to be beasts at all, but humans with a deep ugliness in their hearts and blood on their hands. These contacts weary him more than any other, scrape him raw in a way he finds hard to describe. Even when the job is done he feels worn out and hollow, barely human himself.
It’s on this night that Jaskier secures a room for them and has a hearty bowl of stew waiting for him on his return. He says that Geralt deserves it, though Geralt privately disagrees. Still, he is weak, and he accepts Jaskier’s kindness, desperate for any feeling of warmth to fill the void in his chest.
With dinner eaten they retire, and he strips off his armor and washes himself clean. His skin is scrubbed of the dirt, but he still feels filthy, like the foulness is pervasive, seeping into way into him. Hoping only for the oblivion of sleep, he collapses into the bed, facing the wall so that he might not have to look at anyone or anything.
Jaskier slips in behind him, and he can hear the patter of his heartbeat, elevated slightly. Even though he can’t see his face, he can tell from the way Jaskier fidgets that he’s chewing at his lip uncertainly. Finally, he makes a decision. He reaches out and settles one arm around Geralt’s waist.
It’s only years of training that keep Geralt from flinching. He holds himself stone still, assuming Jaskier has made an error, that any moment now he’ll withdraw as if scalded. But he doesn’t. When Geralt doesn’t move away, he shifts closer. His arm hugs around Geralt tightly, his legs press against his own.
Geralt’s mind is still unsure, but his body is not. It relaxes under the warmth of Jaskier’s touch, muscles uncoiling one by one, the stress of this job and all the ones before it slowly slipping away. He feels safe, he realises. How strange.
Jaskier’s nose is in his hair, inhaling deeply. His hand is splayed over his stomach. He is warm and firm and ever so present, and he lies fearlessly between Geralt and the world.
Geralt is held, and he is cherished. It is a deeply unfamiliar feeling. He hopes, perhaps, that he will be able to feel it again.
Hi, for the ace/aro week. Jaskier learns that touch starved Eskel ist actually Ace (though not sex repulsive) but engages in sex because he thinks it's the only way to get His fill in physical contact. Jaskier then shows him that He can be taken care of and even cherrised without it.
And maybe you can thow in some nonsexual praise kink? Eskel just needs some good selfless Love 💖
Jaskier had been following Geralt around like a lost puppy for just over a decade when his best friend, and yes he was using friend, invited him back to Kaer Morhen for winter. It had been partly due to Jaskier trailing after Geralt all the way to the bottom of the blue mountains and then proclaiming he would get lost on the way back to Oxenfurt. He wouldn’t, and Geralt knew that he wouldn’t. Geralt had rolled his eyes and hidden a smile as he asked Jaskier if he would like to make the trek up the mountains. Jaskier had been over the moon.
Fucking finally!
Geralt’s mood had changed almost as soon as they’d stumbled half frozen through the doors. He no longer allowed Jaskier the casual touches that had become as natural as breathing. Jaskier’s heart ached the first time Geralt shoved his hand away but then he began to watch. The witchers had hugged each other as a warm greeting when they’d arrived but Jaskier was sure he’d not seen so much as a handshake since unless they were sparring in the courtyard.
He was flabbergasted.
Two weeks and not a single hug. He was going insane. They were better when they were drunk. There was a bump of shoulders or awkward pats to arms when they were drunk but it wasn’t enough. Surely it couldn’t be enough. He knew that Geralt enjoyed the physical touches of their friendship so it wasn’t a witcher thing. He was sure of it.
He chose his moment well. White gull had loosened everyone’s tongues and inhibitions when he struck.
“I dare you!” He slurred his words a little more than necessary, really playing the part of drunken bard, and he bopped Geralt on the nose. “I dare you…. to hug me!”
Eskel and Lambert choked on their drinks and Geralt blushed as bright as the sweetest rose.
“I. We. Jask.” Geralt groaned.
Jaskier just pouted up at him. “I need a hug, Geralt please!” He whined pitifully. “Hug your very best friend in the whole wide world!”
“Best friend?” Eskel asked as Geralt nodded and Jaskier jumped into his witcher’s lap.
“In the whole wide world.” Jaskier agreed and he felt all the tension leave his muscles as Geralt embraced him tightly. “Oh sweet Melitele I have missed this.”
“Hmm.” Geralt agreed and buried his face in Jaskier’s neck.
“Wait so you’re not fucking?” Lambert asked.
Jaskier snorted. “No.” He drawled slowly. “Did Geralt tell you we were?”
Geralt hummed to say that he had absolutely said no such thing. Lambert and Eskel looked very bemused. “But all the touches?” Eskel asked.
“Between friends?” Jaskier furrowed his brow. “It’s not sex. It’s just a hug?”
“But you share beds!” Lambert yelled pointing at them as if he’d unearthed some great secret. “Geralt told us last year. He said you were low on coin so you shared!”
Jaskier laughed. “The White Wolf is a cuddler. Did you not know?”
“Jask!” Geralt growled and Jaskier just patted Geralt’s hair.
“But you don’t… fuck?” Lambert frowned.
“Holy mother of…. no!”
“Can… can I have a hug?” Eskel asked quietly. “Without the sex.” He clarified.
Jaskier looked between the three witchers in horror. Did they honestly think that a hug between friends had to lead to something more sexual? Fuck. He needed to fix this.
He kissed the top of Geralt’s hair. “Thank you, darling.” He murmured and extracted himself from Geralt’s arms. “Follow me!” He cooed at Eskel.
The witcher looked a little startled but stood up. “No sex?”
“No sex.” Jaskier agreed and led Eskel through the keep to the large warm living area where the best and most comfortable sofas were found.
He sat down on the largest sofa and patted the empty seat next to him. Eskel shuffled forward before sitting down. “I thought sex was the only way.” The witcher muttered.
“The only way to what?” Jaskier asked as he opened his arms and Eskel tentatively leaned in to his embrace.
“This. Touching.” Eskel sighed. “I never really wanted sex but we were always told it was the only way. No one would ever want to get close to a witcher unless they were paid to fuck us.”
Jaskier didn’t say anything. Rage filled his heart and he wanted to raise an army against every person that had ever hurt his wolves. Instead he bit down on his lip and gently guided Eskel so that he was lying in Jaskier’s lap. “I want that, my darling wolf.” He sighed as he threaded his hands through Eskel’s hair. It wasn’t as long as Geralt’s but it was just as soft.
“Hmm.” Eskel hummed and Jaskier couldn’t help but laugh.
“Careful, you sound like Geralt.” He let one hand rest on top of Eskel’s chest and the witcher reached up to hold his hand.
“We grew up together.” Eskel noted.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. We were just kids. Before the mutagens and the trials. We were just kids.” Eskel let out a heavy sigh. “There were more of us then.”
Jaskier hummed not wanting to interrupt Eskel’s story. His finger’s never staying still in Eskel’s hair, gently massaging his scalp and brushing out any tangles as he combed through the soft sandy blond strands.
“We were the only two to survive and then Geralt went through it all again. I thought I was going to lose him too.” Eskel’s breathing was getting deeper. Jaskier smiled fondly as his golden eyes fluttered shut.
“But you didn’t.”
“Didn’t I?” Eskel sighed. “He’s never been the same since.”
Jaskier paused his gentle movements through Eskel’s hair and frowned before gently trailing his fingers along the witcher’s cheeks and forehead. “He’s still alive.”
“Hmm.”
Jaskier rolled his eyes as he continued tracing patterns along Eskel’s cheeks and then slowly stroked his hand down Eskel’s chest to put his other hand on top of Eskel’s. “See, touch doesn’t have to be anymore than two people enjoying each other’s company. Are you alright, darling?” Jaskier asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
“You’re doing well. I know it’s not easy allowing yourself to be vulnerable like this.” He squeezed Eskel’s hand. The witcher groaned and a blush covered his cheeks. He rolled over onto his side and wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist. “Eskel?”
“Hmm.”
Jaskier sighed. “It’s alright, my dear. You’re alright.”
They stayed like that until time stopped really meaning anything to Jaskier. He might have dozed off at some point, he wasn’t sure. He hummed under his breath when he was awake, singing the lullabies his nursemaid had sung to him as a child. At some point Geralt and Lambert slunk into the room. They sat by Jaskier’s feet and after some gentle coaxing snuggled up together, Jaskier kept one hand in Geralt’s hair and one hand around the sleeping witcher in his lap.
It was Jaskier’s first time at Kaer Morhen but the dusty halls of the old keep would never be the same again.
Hi Sweetheart, do I need to subscri es for the bingo? Would love to try to come back to writing and that could be fun.
Also what so you mean with the "rewritte " promt in the middle?
Love you *hugs*
Hey! And you don't need to subscribe at all. Take the card and start writing. I'll release a new one every month.
The prompts can be interpreted however you want. It depends what's being rewritten: the past? A poem? Someone's memory? I think the fun of a writing bingo is giving two writers the exact same prompt and watch them spin off in completely different directions.
Hi, since you also such a criminal minds fan I thought I could ask you. Do you know in which episode the criminal grew mushrooms out of the victims bodies? I have an distinct memory on a episode like that, but I can't find it anymore.
hmmm I don’t remember a cm episode like that but that was definitely a case in NBC’s Hannibal - is it possible you could be thinking of that?
if you are up for light dorian/blackwall (as ship or friendship it's up o you, either way I would like it :)) and you still need a promt: Dorian would never tell it blackwall and rather joke about blackwalls abilities to craft things with his bare hands (reads without magic)but he absolutly adores how blackwall makes wooden figures and gift them to the children of Skyhold. one day blackwall sees him lurking in the shadow, watching him craft something and offers Dorian to teach him how to do this
I didn’t quite match your prompt (I sort of used it as a jumping off point) but I hope you like it anyway.
Thom had noticed him immediately. Since the reveal of his true identity and the Inquisitor’s baffling but gracious pardon, he’d become hyperaware of anyone in his vicinity. Not everyone was pleased with the Inquisitor’s decision and there’d been a few attempts by various people to express their displeasure, perhaps even to drive him away. They hadn’t gotten very far. Thom wouldn’t have defended himself much but Dennett apparently felt no such compunctions and after the first couple of incidents, he’d noticed a few of Cullen’s people, lurking in the shadows and putting paid to any further attempts. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Cullen had made no secret of the fact that he wasn’t pleased with Thom’s deception but he still protected him. Proving that Cullen was by far the better man, not that he hadn’t already known that.
But he had no idea why Dorian of all people was lingering in the shadows and watching him. It wasn’t as though they’d been friends before all of this so he couldn’t be angry about a betrayal, the way Cassandra and Cullen were. Certainly Dorian hadn’t given any indication he felt the same sense of betrayal as the others when they’d last been out with the Inquisitor together. If anything, he’d been almost sympathetic in his usual slightly offensive way. And he didn’t appear to be here on behalf of anyone else to try and intimidate him. If anything, he just seemed to be… watching.
It took a little while for Thom to work out the pattern of when Dorian would appear. If he was repairing weapons or armour or doing small tasks for Dennett or the Inquisitor, he’d be left alone. It was only when he was working on one of his little projects, the toys and gifts he carved out of wood for the children, that he would find Dorian lurking in the shadows.
“You don’t have to hide,” he said gruffly one afternoon when they were the only two people in the vicinity of the barn for once. He didn’t lift his attention from the small soldier he was whittling. “Can’t be comfortable standing there all the time.”
A rather chagrined silence came from Dorian’s direction and Thom wondered if the man was going to disappear or just ignore his invitation. But a moment later, Dorian sauntered into the barn, trying to look casual. Thom just jerked his head towards a nearby chair, one he had made himself. Dorian stared at him for a moment then he sat down. He seemed a little nonplussed, as though he’d never expected Thom to even know he was there, let alone invite him in.
A somewhat awkward silence reigned for a little while then Thom realised that Dorian wasn’t watching him so much as his hands. He seemed fascinated by the way the little soldier was being revealed from the wood by Thom’s quick sure movements of the little whittling knife.
“Plenty of wood there,” Thom grunted, nodding towards the pile of small blocks of wood that he intended to turn into an army of little soldiers. “And another knife.”
Dorian hesitated for a moment then he slowly reached out and picked up one of the bits of wood and the small whittling knife. He watched Thom for a moment then he frowned at the bit of wood in his hand. Thom watched him out of the corner of his eye then quickly caught his wrist when the knife started to descend towards the wood. Dorian froze and looked like he was about to start a rant when Thom cut him off.
“You’ll cut yourself like that.” He deftly repositioned Dorian’s hands. “Try it now.”
Dorian stared at him, long and hard, and it took a moment for Thom to realise that Dorian had thought he was going to make fun of him for even wanting to try something so… rough. Perhaps he might have before but not now. Now he was just yearning for someone that he might be able to call a friend, someone to alleviate the endless silence and emptiness in his life.
“You’ve got to go slowly and gently,” he said as he picked up his own knife again. “Just a little bit at a time. Better to take too little off than too much.”
Dorian stared at him for a moment longer then he turned to his own piece of wood. Thom reflected that he’d never seen Dorian this silent and he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. The mage was an overly pretty noble who reminded him far too much of some of the people he used to associate when he had last gone by the name Thom Rainier but he wasn’t a bad sort. Certainly he never held back in a fight and Thom had Dorian’s barriers and spells to thank for avoiding many an injury. And if he’d ever harboured any thoughts of greater depth about the mage, well, that was his business and not of any importance.
They worked in silence for a time then Dorian started muttering to himself with obvious frustration. Thom looked over and chuckled when he saw the mess Dorian had made of his bit of wood. The mage immediately looked defensive.
“Did that myself for a long time, at least when I wasn’t poking holes in my fingers with the knife,” Thom said easily. “It’s not as easy as it looks but it just takes practice to master, like anything else.”
Dorian huffed and settled back in his chair. “I’m rather used to being good at things quickly.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Thom said with amusement.
Dorian huffed again. “We’ll see about that,” he said with an almost cheerful belligerence that drew a barking laugh from Thom.
He picked up another piece of wood and bent over it with determination. Thom watched him for a moment then chuckled and went back to his own work.
*****
It became something of a pattern. Dorian didn’t come down every day but when he did come down, he would settle into ‘his’ chair and set to work. At first they worked in an increasingly comfortable silence but it wasn’t long before a bit of desultory conversation started in the wake of trip out with the Inquisitor that had been a disaster from start to finish. Their mutual complaints about the trip turned to general chit chat and then as the weeks passed, more serious and deeper conversations until finally Dorian asked the question Thom had been expecting.
“Why did you do it?” Thom grimaced and Dorian waved a hand. “No, no, not that. I actually understand that…”
“What?” Thom said with surprise. “You… understand why I…?”
“Let ambition get in the way of whatever scrap of intelligence and common sense you might have possessed back then?” Dorian said dryly. “Yes, I do actually. I’ve seen people do far worse for far less potential reward in Tevinter.”
“Even to the point of killing children?” Thom said, his words dripping with self-loathing and contempt.
“How does using children in blood magic rituals grab you?” Dorian said, his tone still dry.
Thom gave him a horrified look. “What?”
“No matter how bad you think Orlais is, Tevinter is ten times worse,” Dorian replied. His tone was light and airy but it was obvious how much that admission pained him.
Thom looked down at his work for a moment then back at Dorian. “So what were you going to ask?”
“Why did you reveal yourself?” Dorian asked. “There were ways you could have gotten Mornay off without trying to take his place on the gallows.”
Thom looked back at the little horse he was whittling now, to go along with the army of soldiers he’d already carved. “I was tired of lying,” he said with a sigh. “Of being looked at with respect by the Inquisitor and Cassandra and Cullen and not deserving one bit of it. The Inquisitor is a good woman and I was deceiving her. It was wrong.”
“You know Cullen still respects you,” Dorian said. “He’s angry at the lies but give him time. He’s too good a man to leave you hanging forever.” He snorted. “Also he has his own demons in his past and he’s not likely to be a hypocrite about this.”
“He sent people to stop the harassment,” Thom admitted.
“He told me.” Dorian paused. “I have some experience in being the Inquisition pariah.”
Thom wanted to snort and tell Dorian that he knew nothing about being a pariah but then he remembered how the man had been treated in Haven. How Harritt had spat at his feet and turned away when Dorian had made a simple, polite request about a repair to his staff. How the Chantry sisters had stared at him like he was some demon from the Fade whenever he walked by. How, for a long time, the only time he’d seen the man relax was when he was away from Haven, and later Skyhold, with the Inquisitor and her party.
He relaxed a little and sighed. “They say time heals all wounds. I’m not so sure.”
“I’ll let you know when I find out,” Dorian said dryly. He eyed Thom speculatively. “And you know not all the respect was because they thought you were a Grey Warden.”
Thom arched an eyebrow at him. “I thought you didn’t respect me at all?”
Dorian smirked at him. “I respect your ability with the sword and shield. Your skills or lack thereof when it comes to personal hygiene are less impressive.”
Thom shot him an irritated look, though it lacked most of its normal heat. “I wash every day and you damn well know it. Just because I don’t primp and preen doesn’t mean I’m not clean.”
Dorian’s smirk widened and Thom realised he’d taken the bait… again. He sighed and pretended to be irritated. In truth, he was almost pathetically grateful that Dorian was being so… Dorian. It made a change from the stiff disapproval from so many of the others.
“Bull and the Chargers wouldn’t turn you away,” Dorian observed after a few minutes of silence between them.
“You sure about that?” Thom said, sounding sceptical.
“He muttered something about offering you a place in the Chargers just the other night,” Dorian replied. “Krem agreed. Said that just because a man makes a mistake doesn’t mean he has to wear it like a brand the rest of his life.”
Thom straightened and stared at Dorian in surprise. “I… don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll come and have a drink tonight,” Dorian said, not lifting his eyes from his work.
Thom hesitated. “Aye… Aye, I will.”
****
Dorian drank too much. Now that Thom was paying attention, now that he thought of Dorian as a friend, it was easy to see that. It was also easy to see that Bull knew it as well when they exchanged a glance over Dorian’s head one evening.
Dorian had been right that Bull and his Chargers would accept Thom into their midst without recriminations. They had done that and more, allowing Thom to piece together a bit more of his shattered confidence and self-esteem. Dorian had joined them more often than not and Thom had the impression that was something new. Not that Dorian had never sat down and gotten drunk with the Chargers, just the frequency of it. Bull kept giving him what he assumed were significant looks but Thom was ignoring them. He had no idea why Dorian was doing that.
“Your turn to take him home and pour him into bed,” Bull said in an amiable voice as he nudged Dorian over so that he was slumped against Thom instead of him.
Thom raised an eyebrow at him but in truth, he was thankful for the excuse to leave. It had not been a good day. Cassandra had sat him on his arse four times that morning and a few of the new recruits had taken that as their excuse to heap abuse on him until Cullen had put a stop to it. He’d appreciated that but the Commander was still being quite cool to him so he’d slunk back to his barn to wash up and essentially hide for the rest of the day. He almost hadn’t come tonight but it had settled into a habit and he’d found himself at the door before he really knew what he was doing.
Despite that, his heart hadn’t really been in it tonight and he’d been nursing his current mug of ale for quite some time. He gladly set it aside in favour of sliding a shoulder under Dorian’s arm and hauling him to his feet. He grunted as he did so. Dorian was heavier than he looked but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Dorian was surprisingly well-muscled for a mage.
“Unhand me, you brute!” Dorian exclaimed in an overly dramatic voice, though he made no attempt to free himself.
“You’re drunk,” Thom said gruffly. “Time to sleep it off.”
“I’m often drunk,” Dorian replied.
Thom grunted again. “Too often.”
“Well, what else is one to do in this dreary heap of stone?” Dorian asked as they reeled out the door and into the cold night air.
Thom was silent for a moment. “You may have a point there,” he conceded.
“Thom,” Dorian said. He paused. “Blackwall.” He paused again. “Rainier.”
Thom chuckled. “Yes? Pick one.”
“I’m trying to decide which suits you better,” Dorian said, squinting at Thom and leaning more heavily on him.
“Damned if I know,” Thom said with a sigh.
Dorian continued to squint at him as he hauled the man up the stairs to his room and it was only when he dropped him on his bed that Dorian spoke again.
“Blackwall, I think,” he said decisively. “You spent so long trying to live up to the image you had of the man that you became him.”
Thom froze and then leaned against the wall with a casualness he didn’t really feel. “Did I? Doesn’t much feel like it.”
“Well, you’re a little less excruciatingly noble than when you were pretending to be Blackwall,” Dorian said with a wave of one hand. He hadn’t moved from where Thom had left sprawled half-on and half-off the bed. “The truth did scrape off a few of your more teeth-grinding edges.” He blinked slowly. “You’re a good man.”
The last was said in a soft, almost wistful tone, as though Dorian wished he was saying it about himself. Thom winced a little. He’d hardly count himself a good man. Dorian was though. A better man than him certainly.
“Come on. Boots off,” he said gruffly, walking over to the bed and kneeling down to work on the buckles of Dorian’s extravagant boots.
“A handsome man kneeling at my feet,” Dorian slurred. “It’s been awhile.”
Thom flicked a glance up at the mage. He’d had his suspicions about Dorian’s preferences but had never really felt it was his place to ask. His own preferences were a little broader. Not that he’d been seeking the company of anyone other than paid fancies for quite some time. Professionals didn’t care who he was, just whether or not he had the coin. It was colder than he liked his pleasures to be but there had been little choice really.
“No shortage of handsome men here,” he said absently as he pulled one of Dorian’s boots off.
Dorian hummed and wriggled his toes before resting his foot on Thom’s thigh. “Oooh, warm. Is that why you have all that hair? To keep you warm?”
“You’d be amazed how much of a disguise a beard can be,” Thom said as he went to work on the other boot.
“Hmmm,” Dorian said as he scrunched his toes against the fabric on Thom’s breeches. “Keep me warm.”
Thom looked up in surprise then pulled Dorian’s boot off. He shoved the man so that he was lying on the bed more comfortably and then made to stand. Dorian caught his wrist and when he looked at the man, he was surprised to see that Dorian wasn’t quite as drunk as he’d thought.
“Stay.”
Thom reared back a little but made no attempt to break free of Dorian’s hold. “You’re drunk.”
“Not that drunk. Stay. Just… stay.”
There was something lonely in Dorian’s eyes that Thom recognised all too well. It was that which made him toe off his own boots. He pulled away from Dorian’s hand then but only long enough to unlace and pull off his quilted tunic.
“Shove over,” he said gruffly.
Dorian did so, wriggling around so that he could pull the sheets and furs free, and Thom gingerly got into the bed. The sheet were far softer than his bed in the barn and it smelt better too. Some strange mix of Dorian – sweat and musk and something spicy like burnt cinnamon – that he recognised from the times they’d shared a tent on the road. Thom felt himself relax a little then Dorian turned and draped himself half over him.
“Warm,” Dorian murmured happily, burying his face in the crook of Thom’s neck.
Thom stared down at him, baffled and uncertain, but Dorian didn’t move and a moment later he heard a soft shore. Thom shook his head and gingerly wrapped an arm around Dorian’s shoulders. He was sure there was going to be hell to pay when Dorian woke the next morning but he was comfortable and warm and relaxed and he’d handle whatever came in the morning when it arrived.
*****
Thom woke slowly, aware that he wasn’t in the barn but it took a moment to remember what had happened to previous night. They shifted during the night onto their sides and Dorian was plastered against his front, curled up happily and still asleep, his hair a riot and his moustache askew. Thom watched him sleep contemplatively and made no move to leave the bed before Dorian would wake.
He knew he’d been avoiding examining how he felt about Dorian for a long time, far longer than anyone might expect. They hadn’t much liked each other at first and later… well, he’d been content to leave it at friendship and not seek to find out if there was anything more lying between them for fear of ruining everything. He’d been too afraid to reach out that final distance and make any sort of move and he had the distinct feeling that Dorian wouldn’t. Not unless he was one hundred percent sure and Thom knew he could hide the truth even from the best of them. Hadn’t he hidden his true nature even from the infamous Nightingale herself?
But this? This waking up in a comfortable bed with this man snugged up tight against him? He liked this. He liked Dorian. Perhaps it was even more than that but he’d never been good with that sort of thing even before he’d fallen into own personal abyss. But that didn’t mean he… they… couldn’t try. Assuming Dorian actually wanted more than friendship and this wasn’t just his drunken self seeking warmth. But Thom didn’t think that’s what it was… or rather he didn’t think that’s all it was. He’d seen the glances Dorian had given him and he’d known that Bull had been getting at with all his significant look and sly comments. He just hadn’t wanted to admit it.
“You think very loudly early in the morning,” Dorian mumbled. He stretched a little then curled up in Thom’s embrace again.
“Sun’s well up,” Thom said. “It’s not that early.”
“If it’s before midday, it’s far too early.”
Thom chuckled and heard Dorian’s contented noise, presumably at the way the laughter rumbled through his chest. He sobered then and was silent for a time.
“Why me?” he said when he’d mustered the courage to ask. “There’s better men than me here. Men more suited to you.”
Dorian was silent in turn and Thom wondered if he was even going to answer.
“Do you remember when we went to Redcliffe? To the inn there? The Inquisitor asked you and Varric to wait outside.”
Thom nodded. “Aye, I do. You were upset when you came out and Trevelyan was furious. You were trying to hide how you felt but she wasn’t.”
“My father…” Dorian swallowed. “My father had wanted to meet with me. To… I don’t know. Convince me to come home without ever apologising for what he did. Or accepting me as I am.”
Thom hesitated for a moment. “What did he do?”
“He was going to use blood magic on me to make me… normal. Because he couldn’t bear the thought that his only son and heir preferred the company of men.”
Dorian’s voice was bitter, so bitter, and full of anger and grief and the lost voice of a child despairing at the betrayal of a parent. Thom tightened his embrace unconsciously, one hand brushing through Dorian’s hair in a comforting motion.
“Man sounds like a damn fool then,” he rumbled. “I take it Trevelyan gave him a piece of her mind?”
That got a soft, watery sort of chuckle from Dorian. “Yes, she did. It was glorious.” He paused for a moment. “You never asked.”
“Didn’t figure it was my business,” Thom replied. “Figured if you wanted to make it my business, you’d tell me.”
“You were very… protective.”
“Figured anything that made you that upset had to be bad,” Thom replied. “Trevelyan was still too angry and Varric’s not got the temperament to protect and not ask questions. So, figured I’d make sure nothing happened and you got safely back. Wasn’t sure you’d accept it so I tried to keep my distance.”
“That’s why,” Dorian said.
Thom frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not sure I know how to explain,” Dorian replied. “I’ll ask you the same thing. Why me?”
Thom chuckled. “Never much cared about what was between m’partner’s legs. There were other things. Smart.”
“I am that,” Dorian said, propping his chin on Thom’s chest and smirking.
“Clever.”
“That too.”
“Smart-mouthed.”
“And that.”
“Pretty.”
“Am I pretty?”
Thom ran his fingers along Dorian’s cheek then up through his hair, down his neck and along his spine, chuckling as the man arched into his touch like a cat. “Very pretty.” He paused for a moment then continued. “Kind.”
Dorian looked startled.
“Caring,” Thom said.
Dorian sucked in a breath and looked very vulnerable for a moment.
“Brave. Reckless. Tempestuous.” He chuckled and cradled Dorian’s head in his hand, his thumb brushing over the man’s cheek. “Just never thought you’d look at me that way.”
“All the hair made it difficult to see,” Dorian said. His tone was flippant but the look in his eyes wasn’t.
“Maybe I should shave?” Thom suggested.
“No!” Dorian looked abashed for a moment then he ran his fingers through Thom’s beard, smoothing it out. “It suits you.”
They locked eyes for a moment and everything went very still. Then Dorian shifted forward until their lips were barely touching. He stopped there and Thom growled low in his chest. He wrapped a hand around the back of Dorian’s neck and closed the gap between them. The kiss was soft at first, gentle, an exploration and a question, tentative in a way Thom hadn’t been in years. Then they both breathed out and the kiss turned into something surer, more confident, more heated.
Thom rolled them so that Dorian was underneath him, relishing the way the man’s eyes darkened and he breathed out a soft affirmative. He lowered his head and their lips met again. This time exploring and mapping each other’s mouth until they finally parted, breathless and panting.
“Thom,” Dorian said, his hands slipping under the hem of Thom’s shirt.
“Yes,” Thom said as he raised himself up enough to let Dorian pull his shirt off. His name felt good coming from Dorian and for the first time in years , as he lowered himself down to capture Dorian’s mouth again, he felt like his name was something other than a curse.
uui awesome! how about Hawke gets transformed into a child when a curse goes sideways and Fenris needs to babysit him, while Anders and Merril need to work out how to transform him back? When he is back himself he still remembers everything about his time as child by Fenris side. Extra points for hyperactive Hawke getting all quite and in awe when Fenris reads to him. (maybe friends to lovers?)
Source: I was often left in charge of my two younger siblings, and I used to babysit a lot as a teenager. Now I help my mother watch my niece (5) and nephew (2). What I’m saying is, in my experience with kids, when things go wrong, they really go wrong.
--
“Leopold Eugene Hawke, if you don’t stop climbing those shelvesthis instant, I swear I will spank you!”
Little Leo glanced over his shoulder, found Aveline in allof her red-faced threatening fury, and made a face. He began to climb again. “Youcan’t,” he stated, matter-of-fact, snotty. “You’re not my momma.”
“We’ll see about that!” she said, and stalked forward, madea grab for him. Little Leo screamed as if she had cut him with her sword.
“You’re hurting me!”
“I am not!”
“Let go! You’re hurting me!”
“Get down before you break your neck!”
Another ear-piercing scream. Varric pulled his hand slowlydown his face. “Maker’s ass,” the dwarf said. He could feel a headache comingon. “Can we get some progress on that spell? This shit stopped being funny twohours ago.”
“Oh, right, we’ll get right on that.” Anders’s voice wasthick with sarcasm. The ball of magic between him and Merrill wobbleddangerously, and Merrill made an irritated noise.
“You have to calm down or this will never work,” she said.
“Forgive me if I’m having a little trouble concentrating!”he bit out.
“I told you not to feed it so much sugar!”
Little Hawke screamed again.
The group of apostate blood mages they’d encountered hadbeen holed up in the bowels of Darktown for far too long, and didn’t takekindly to being found. Their spell had been meant to un-make Hawke, aging himdown rapidly to nothing – and had only been interrupted by the deaths of everydesperate caster. Hawke froze around the age of four or five.
“You aren’t my momma!” Hawke screamed at Aveline. He threw abook, and when Aveline dodged it, it hit Isabela. “Where’s mama? Where’s da?”
“They’re all dead, you little brat!” Isabela snarled, andthrew herself at the book case. She got a hand around his ankle, even as he kicked.“You get down here right now!”
Little Leo began to scream again.
It was amid this that Fenris entered the room. He had goneto report the fate of the apostates to the templars while the rest of themtried to smuggle Hawke home without being seen – Kirkwall, after all, couldn’tsee their Champion reduced to such a state. Hawke had been much better behaved,then, before Anders fed him all those cookies.
Fenris paused in the threshold of Hawke’s library, taking itall in: Isabela, shaking the bookshelves as she screamed at Hawke. Aveline,screaming over Isabela. Anders, screaming at them all to shut up. Hawke, justscreaming.
Varric, seated in an armchair, rubbed his temples. “Goodluck,” he muttered, as the elf strode forward. Little Leo did not take tookindly to strangers.
Fenris urged Aveline to take three steps back. He pulledIsabela, bodily, from the bookshelf. Hawke fell silent when he levelled hisglare on him. The young mage’s face was red and tear-streaked.
He climbed down meekly when Fenris extended his arms to him.
@araglas1989: I could use something sweet. How about when Fenris sister comes, she brings fenris child with her (she doesn't betray him, danarius followed her) now fenris doesn't only have to care for a sister (a mage nonetheless) and a teenager.
I like the OC I ended up making. He’s pretty. Maybe I’ll draw him one day. And I tried to make this fluffy > 3<
Also, special thanks to this prompter for being the first to use my ko-fi button (located on both my blog+art blog!)!!! I’ll keep doing my best to deliver stories to the best of my ability! Thank you so much for your support!
Misc. notes: pre-fenders-but-everyone-knows-they-like-each-other-and-are-just-waiting-for-them-to-become-“official”-already (so it def ends “official” as fenders) / the term ‘abomination’ is used a few times for Anders in the beginning / no one here likes blood magic so minor (tho unified) lack of interest in Merrill
Link to ao3 chapter: here.
Fenris has learned that not many things go according to plan when living in Kirkwall. Everything from his adventures out with Hawke to...whatever his current interactions with the mage has become...
With that in mind, he knew things couldn’t go smoothly when he entered the Hanged Man the day he went to meet his supposed-sister (that turned out to be real), but he also didn’t expect...everything else that came after. Whatever this was.
Silence.
Nothing but the occasional sips he took from his bottle of wine, the clacking from utensils meeting a plate, and the complete and utter lack of conversation where constant chewing and drinking filled the air instead. Fenris always mused what it must feel like to have a family. To have the one thing Hawke has...or had. But when the Maker decided to be funny about it, Fenris found he wasn’t prepared for a family. This is considered a family right? His sister, Varania, was still a sister even if he had no clear memory of her. He learned he apparently fought for the sake of the people of his own blood. Even if the plan may have turned out for the worst for all of them, did that change their relationship? But now that he had a sister again, what does he do now?
“Please chew with your mouth closed,” Varania scolded, being the first to break the silence at the dinner table. At least, that’s what Fenris assumed this was: A table. In the mansion’s kitchen. With people eating around it. That’s a dinner table right? Fenris found he never needed to have company over for a meal, just for cards.
The loud chewing stopped as the young elf sitting beside Varania closed his mouth, tucked his strawberry blond locks over an ear, and continued to chew silently. Fenris found he much preferred noise over the awkward silence in the air though. But the boy that Varania brought with didn’t speak much, not to Fenris at least. The boy has openly spoke to his saviors that day at the Hanged Man, and later spoke in Tevene to Orana. Then he’d pretend he doesn’t hear Fenris when being addressed by him (until Varania scolds him into responding).
“I’m sorry, Leto.” Varania apologized on the younger elf’s behalf.
“It is...fine...” Fenris awkwardly replied as he eyed the boy staring blankly at his plate while chewing. Brown eyes looked back at him occasionally but otherwise the young elf seemed to enjoy pretending Fenris wasn’t here. His long hair fell over his face again but this time he did not fix it.
“I’m going out.” the teenager announced before standing from his seat.
“Put that in the sink!” Varania immediately pointing at plate. Fenris watched as the younger elf did it without complaint. “Yes, Aunt Varania,” being the only thing he said, and it was without the dripping sarcasm Fenris knew the boy was capable of. The young elf didn’t say another word as he swiftly left the room. Silence continued on until the siblings heard the front door of the mansion open and close.
“I am sorry about Hati...”
She must’ve apologized for him hundreds of times by now. Fenris almost felt guilty that she still felt so guilty. “It is not your fault,” he stated, trying to ease whatever he could of the situation. He found comforting wasn’t his strong point over the last couple of weeks. “I...I shall keep trying to talk with him. I do not wish to push him either but I shall remain patient.”
“Thank you, Leto...”
Leto...Fenris found he also had to get used being called that too. There were simply too many things to get used to since they killed Danarius: His sister, the discovery of his own son, the loss of the boy’s mother, Alina, at birth - another memory that Fenris grieved in losing, and his own hesitance at the fact that he now lives with two mages.
Anders was putting out the lantern early. He had to get moving while light was still out or risk getting attacked while carrying heavy supplies. With the flames out, Anders readjusted the currently empty bag over his shoulder and turned only to catch a pair of brown eyes looking at him from behind a pile of crates. Anders blinked a couple of times as he stared back. Upon realizing that fact, the eyes descended to hide. Anders made sure to make obvious noise in his steps as he slowly approached the stacks of crates. Hugging his knees on the floor was Hati, glaring at the ground. Anders knelt before him, but made sure to keep appropriate distance. “Hi Hati. What are you doing here?” he asked with curiosity. It was a genuine question as Anders found the young elf stopping by the clinic more often than he used to. Ever since day one when Anders helped take down Danarius, with Justice, the boy and Varania didn’t seem to think highly of him. Exclamations of “It’s an abomination!” being the biggest hint. Justice wasn’t pleased to hear that but what could they do in this situation?
It was unfortunate as Anders found he could no longer visit Fenris in his mansion as often as he used to now that both Varania and Hati has also taken up residence in it and the last thing he wanted was to make them more uneasy. Not only that, he saw less of Fenris in general with the amount of time the warrior spent fixing up parts of his mansion and getting to know his...family.
Despite the initial avoidance, Anders had spotted Hati around the clinic, often watching him work. He had tried reaching out to the youngster but the elf never reciprocated the attempts, and so Anders didn’t expect much of a response right here either.
“...why are you locking up the clinic at this time?” he asked quietly, as if afraid people will hear what he had to say.
Anders was taken back with surprise. “Oh, um, I have to go meet up with some of my patients. I’ve been neglecting on keeping my clinic stocked on some supplies so I’m going to go around to see if any of them have empty bottles and sacks for me to bring back. That way I can make more potions for Hawke and the others as well as for other patients.” Anders hoped his explanation was what Hati was looking for.
“Why don’t you just buy more? Or send someone to do it for you?”
“Um...well, the clinic runs on donations. Any money I make with Hawke I use to buy things I can’t get anywhere else. But if I can save a little bit by reusing things then that will go a long way. And I would ask those of Darktown to help but they don’t know everyone I see. Otherwise I would,” Anders offered a smile and lowered his voice into a whisper, “Because it’s easier to give the young ones coin than to their parents.”
Hati didn’t seem fazed at the suggestion. Maybe he didn’t understand what Anders was implying. Giving up, and not wanting to push Hati into any forms of discomfort, Anders offered a friendly grin again as he stood up to start on his way.
“Can I come with?”
Anders looked to his side as Hati stood. “...Of course you can!” he replied happily. It was a bit immature, and Anders would admit it, but to be potentially accepted by someone who initially rejected him (especially someone related to Fenris), well, it was more than he ever thought he’d get.
Kirkwall was a strange place. The south in general, supposedly, was just like Kirkwall. Mages everywhere are locked up in the Circles and at the mercy of the Templars, even the humans. The people in power are the non-mage humans of all things. Maybe Kirkwall isn’t so bad in comparison to Tevinter. Except the only thing that didn’t seem to change was that elves were still treated poorly.
Hati knew he didn’t want to ever go into the Alienage. It reminded him of Tevinter. That, and the blood mage lived there. It confused him just by the mere fact an elf was a blood mage. Maybe it was a Dalish thing? She seemed so nice otherwise...
Then there was the abomination. He was the most confusing out of all of them. He was merged with a ‘spirit’ as he calls it, is a human, and helped defeat a Magister. He was powerful. So why does he not rule Kirkwall with an iron fist? It was an answer Hati wasn’t sure if he’ll ever find. It was suspicious that Anders was closing the clinic early tonight though. Was he up to something? Was he going to secretly perform blood magic rituals with Merrill? Despite the possibility, Hati had a hard time believing it. He could always check, and run as fast as he could if things get out of hand. He did know a good stun spell.
Instead, the pair stayed in Darktown. Anders greeted the various residents and stalls. He does not enter one’s home without being invited in. Nor does he raise his voice to threaten or demand. Anders knelt down to talk to any children. He kindly asked if anyone’s finished using his supplies. Some have, and some haven’t. He thanked them regardless and would continue on his way. Sometimes the mage gets offered gifts of thanks. Anders always refused them. Sometimes he would cave if they were persistent enough, or if the gifts were from small children. The gifts have ranged from a single flower picked off the dirt nearby, to a copper, to a newly sewn tunic. If he was offered food, Anders would only take a portion of it, never the whole thing. Sometimes, Anders spotted a small injury on someone. A cut or bruise mostly, nothing serious as far as Hati could see. Anders would offer to heal it, most of the time with magic but occasionally he’d pull out a bandage roll and health potion.
Before Hati knew it, they had a bag of empty bottles, and Hati found himself back at the clinic with Anders. They were alone. It was now or never to settle his dying curiosity of this strange abomination.
“...why do you not just kill the Templars?” Hati asked as Anders carefully placed his bag onto a cot that already had other supplies lying around on top of it. With how much Anders complained about it, Hati was surprised this man didn’t just kill Templars on sight.
Anders stared back in surprise at such a question. “Trust me. I’d like to. But not all Templars are bad people. It would not be right.”
“But I’ve head you say they are.”
Anders sighed. He started sorting the bottle sizes on the cot before continuing. “Not all Templars are bad people, but all Templars are a danger to me and all mages. There’s a difference.”
“I do not understand. You’re free here. Why won’t you all rise like the Magisters in Tevinter? Why do you not just GO to Tevinter?!” Hati didn’t mean to express impatience, but none of this made sense! There had to be a lie here! A trick! Fenris, a slave that ran from Tevinter, was clearly a little closer to a mage than one from his situation should be. The two weren’t exactly hiding how often they eye each other and sit or stand comfortably close to one another. Did the mage manipulate and control Fenris?
“...It’s different here,” Anders eventually answered. “And I admit, I’ve considered going to Tevinter. But I do not wish to hurt people if I don’t have to. There is no reason to become something like a Magister. I don’t want to rule over people, I just want to live life without having to worry about death and hiding who I am from others. Tevinter is not the answer.”
“But you will kill people?”
“If I have to.” Anders repeated, his tone hardened.
Silence filled the air, save for the occasional clanging from the bottles that Anders set down. “...how come you’re friends with...Fenris?” Hati prompted instead. He dared to move a bit closer to the cot. Just a step. Anders tossed the now-empty bag to the side and moved himself over to the pot accompanied by various small jars filled with ingredients.
“Well...we surprisingly have a lot in common. We just had to shut up and talk about it. And come now, don’t speak of your father by name like that.”
Hati frowned. “He is not my father!”
Anders froze for a moment, but continued working. “I apologize, Hati.”
The elf blinked in confusion. He has heard Merrill apologize numerous times for some of her clumsiness. He has also heard Aunt Varania apologize to Fenris a lot. For them: for being a burden, invading the mansion, being mages... And he had heard Fenris apologize for not being in his family’s life. Not that it meant anything. It didn’t matter. They don’t know each other. Regardless, it wasn’t the same. To hear an apology from a human mage left him a bit dumbstruck.
“I understand how you feel.” Anders added as he started dumping ingredients into the pot.
Hati folded his arms. “No you don’t...!” he spat. How could he?! He’s an apostate from the south! His father didn’t put him into extreme poverty, left his mother and grandmother to die, left his Aunt to raise him for all these years! Alone. No one, just to two of them. The feeling of hunger became numb to him...
Hati became startled when Anders put down the ingredients he was fumbling with and looked straight into the boy’s eyes. Should he stun the man and run now? Anders, however, didn’t move from where he stood but he relaxed his posture. Hati found himself mimicking the relaxed state. “I also have no father. At least...I’ve personally disowned him as a father. He’s probably still alive. I wouldn’t know. I don’t plan to see him anytime son. He stopped being my father the day he turned me over to the Templars. I was a bit younger than you are though when it happened. I guess I wasn’t mad about it right away. I think I had hoped he’d come get me. Or my mother would. Obviously, it never happened. I know it’s not the same thing at all. But I understand not seeing your birth father as your father, and you’re in the right to do so. Sharing the same blood doesn’t always equal family. I...I think Fenris is a good person, and to me things were out of his hands. But...I should’ve considered your feelings on the matter. And I apologize for not being more considerate on that when I should’ve understood how you felt.”
The mage seemed genuine in what he said. He even seemed nice a lot of time. Not all the time though, not with that demon thing inside him. But as Hati looked around the clinic, all he recalled seeing here were the poor from both humans and elves alike. This was all too confusing. How did he, a dirt poor elf, end up with more luxury than a human mage? He was fairly certain his own bed at the mansion was bigger than the space Anders slept inside of. But...Anders was still a powerful mage. He knew how to fight and kill a man, but he also knew how to put flesh back together. He wielded magic as if it was a child’s toy. Not even Aunt Varania seemed to understand magic the way this man does and never once had he seen Anders attempt blood magic. Maybe there was...something to him after all...
Hati slowly approached the cot and stood directly opposite of Anders. The man gave him his full attention, but didn’t say anything. Hati suddenly felt a sense of shame. Anders always seemed patient with him despite how he treated the man in return. Was it out of pity? Was it because he was still a kid in his eyes? But Anders wasn’t very condescending to him. Anders also seemed very experienced in life when he wasn’t making silly jokes. Hati sighed and looked up at the man. “I...know this might be strange to ask. And I know you might not like me very much...but can you train me in magic?”
What surprised him was the way Anders’s face lit up in excitement at the question before getting he got out an exclaimed “Yes!”
It was strange. Hati has run off multiple times but he usually came back, or was brought back, by this time of night. Fenris paid a visit to the Hanged Man, back to being bustling and filled with drunks as usual. Except the warrior found no one had seen his son. He next went to visit the Chantry. Sebastian found Hati there one time, but apparently not today. Fenris went up to Hawke’s estate only for Bohdan to tell him that Hati didn’t visit today. This was concerning...Fenris swiftly went to Darktown, skipping the Alienage and just hoped Hati was with Anders. Anders did mention Hati had visited at times, if only to watch. Even if Hati was not there, he hoped Anders would’ve at least seen him.
Fenris approached the clinic door and swiftly knocked. “It’s me!” The door was swift to unlock, and Fenris was rewarded with Anders opening the door with a bright smile on his face.
“Oh Love, I’m glad you’re here!”
Fenris couldn’t resist the grin from appear on his face. “’Love?’ he repeated.
Color briefly drained from Anders’s face before it was swiftly covered in feverish red. “Th-That just came out! Don’t you dare make fun of me for it!”
“Oh, why ever would you think I would do that?” Fenris asked only to get a playful shove from Anders.
“Oh shut it!” even with that, Anders tried to hide the laugh behind the comment. He let Fenris in and shut the door behind him. In the moment, Fenris temporarily forgot why he was here. He had spent so long trying to make conversation with Varania and Hati on top of adjusting to the overall changes of his living situation that he had missed just being with Anders. Sure, they have not had time lately to invite each other to bed, but even Fenris found himself missing nights where they share conversation over a nice meal or drink. Fenris had to resist a groan at the reminder that he wasn’t sure if Anders was eating much...
Before Fenris got to his question, he noticed Hati in the middle of the clinic. The boy was holding one of Anders’s staffs, observing its shape and design. He’d test the weight of it and tried swinging it around, though with far less grace than Anders had.
“Oh, that’s right,” Anders brought his voice down to a quieter tone. “Hati asked me to train him in magic!”
“Has he...?” That’s...good? Fenris wasn’t sure. Not to mention, he wasn’t sure if Varania would approve. Then again, does she have authority over him? This whole family thing is complicated. “How is he as a student?”
“Oh, well, we haven’t really started on anything. I’m letting him feel different staffs. I know Varania had one, but I don’t know if she ever had him use it. I wanted him to see if anything stood out to him; but no worries! I’ll teach him from the ground up!” Fenris saw Anders’s smile swiftly drain from his face. “Is it...weird?”
“Is what weird?” Fenris asked with a slightly raised brow.
“That...I’m teaching your son magic? I...know Tevinter brought you nothing but trauma and then two mages just moved into your place and now it’s topped off with me trying to help Hati hone his powers; it’s just...is this too much? Because...I feel like helping Hait would do some good. But Justice keeps nagging me that it might be unjust...to you. Someone who is intertwined with all of our lives, even just a little, and I didn’t even discuss it with you!”
Fenris noticed Hati had stopped twirling the staff and was eying them carefully now. He looked back to Anders. “I am fine with it. If I were to trust anyone to teach him magic I would entrust him to no one else.”
This brought a smile back to Anders’s face. Fenris couldn’t help but give one in return. “However, it is probably only right that we discuss the matter with Varania as well.” Fenris sighed upon saying that but continued to try and reassure the other. “Do not worry, Mage. If I can learn to understand Justice, then I think she has little room to complain. I’ll see to it that she understands.”
“You don’t have to...but just hearing that is really touching, Love. I mean-Fenris! Oh Andraste’s tits...!”
Fenris chuckled. He granted the mage some mercy as he resisted to tease him over it. “It is...unfortunately getting late. I feel I should bring Hati back to the mansion with me.”
“Ah, yes, of course...” Anders turned around and also finally saw Hati was (still) quietly observing the pair. “Fenris suggests that you both head back home. It is a bit late and that’s when everyone decides to be an asshole for the day. But you can come back anytime and I’ll try to train you. How does that sound?”
Hati nodded. He put the staff onto a cot before heading over to the pair who started opening the clinic door. “...Thank you, Ser Anders.” he said just above a whisper and headed out first without looking at Fenris.
As Fenris started exiting as well he ran his hand over the mage’s arm and held on until Anders looked at him. “For the record, Mage, I do not mind being called...that.”
“You....don’t?”
“No. I do not,” Fenris replied confidently. He looked to see Hati waiting for him by some stairs before looking back to Anders. “We...should have word. Alone. But you may still call me...whatever you’d like.”
Anders beamed. With hesitance, their hands held onto each other before Fenris had to part them. He didn’t look back as the temptation to just hold the mage in his arms again was too strong.
The walk back to the mansion held the same awkward silence Fenris found himself usually having back at home. “I am happy that Anders is helping you.” It was worth a shot to initiate a conversation. Silence only continued and Fenris sighed.
“Why do you like Ser Anders?” Hati asked after the initial pause. Fenris found himself startled that he was even asked a question but didn’t hesitate to grab onto the opportunity.
“He...well, we have discussed much of our lives. I am not sure what you rather hear. He is kind, rather humorous, very caring, and filled with...passion. I suppose that might be an alluring trait.”
“I agree.”
Fenris raised a brow, unsure if he wanted to question what part of his statement Hati was agreeing with.
“I...do not fully understand everything that Ser Anders says. Everything in Kirkwall is so different. Everything I knew of him is different. But...he is admirable.” Hati confessed. Fenris saw the boy’s face relax upon admitting his thoughts. “I feel like you aren’t so bad...if someone like him can like you.”
Fenris wasn’t sure if he was supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult.
Varania wasn’t pleased of the news of Hati running off almost every day to learn from Anders. In fact, she often ended up at the clinic herself just to ensure that no one started summoning demons and slicing their skins.
It was during this period that Fenris’s home routine started shifting. For one, Hati was more talkative. He showed off little tricks that Anders taught him, and talked about how Anders saved all those workers from the Bone Pit or that he helped a mother give birth. When he wasn’t speaking he was reading through notes that Anders gave him to study, even while at the dinner table. Well, Fenris later found Hati was looking at pictures. Varania didn’t have the chance to teach the boy to read. When Anders found out, he encouraged Fenris to help Hati in his studies; reminding him that everything in the notes were things Fenris already knew how to read. He was hesitant, but Fenris did just that and offered to help Hati. Now with more free time, Varania was also eager to assist in Hati’s learning. Hati started memorizing plants and their names, and went to Fenris to ask the names of said-plants if it became too hard for him (in which Fenris embarrassingly went to Varania when he also did not know how to read something...but they were longer words okay?). It was then, Fenris suggested to bring Hati along to Sundermont.
“Why? What if we’re attacked?” Hati questioned, his nose buried in the notebook a moment earlier.
Fenris picked up his sword that was leaning against the wall. “I will keep us protected. We shall help the mage gather some supplies. It might make it easier for you to memorize what to look for.”
What Fenris didn’t expect was the excitement and curiosity Hati expressed the moment he spotted his first elfroot. He’d open the book and looked between the eflroot in person and compared it to the sketchy illustration. He’d sit there and try to sound out words based on the letters and not from memory. When he finished he’d move on to the next thing he found.
The pair gathered an abundance of plants, herbs, and roots before returning to Kirkwall to seek out Anders. They both dropped off sacks of supplies before the mage. Upon seeing Anders’s surprised and grateful face was when Fenris saw Hati light up in pure glee. It the first time his son smiled in such a way since arriving to Kirkwall.
Between both reading and magic lessons, Fenris found Anders also was occasionally speaking about magic with Varania. While Hati laid on an unused cot to read through a new book, Fenris came upon Anders helping Varania on her postures and how to effectively use a staff. Fenris felt a strange warmth come up inside him. It was new, but a good kind of warmth.
It was family dinner time and Hati was retelling stories that Anders must’ve told him. Fenris found he already knew most of them, but it was a pleasant sight to see Hati be excited about Anders’s adventures. It was also pleasing to see Varania take an interest as well.
“That broodmother sounds absolutely vile...” Varania said with a shake of her head.
“Of course it was! That’s what made the fight so amazing!” Hati exclaimed, as if needing to defend Anders’s story.
“Oh I agree. I just pictured the broodmother as Hadriana.”
Fenris found himself chuckling at that. “And neither of you questioned about his cat bringing his companions back to life?”
“Well Ser Pounce was clearly a magic-cat!” Hati defended. “Or maybe it was Ser Anders’s own magic? Can he do that?”
“Oh I’m sure they weren’t really dead. He must’ve healed them swiftly enough in battle.” Varania pointed out. She turned to look at Fenris with a rather serious expression. He lifted his drink for a sip as he anticipated a question from her that he may need time to answer. “Leto, I understand you’ve been away from Tevinter for a long time, and I know the South must have some of their own traditions and cultures...But when are you going invite that man to live in your home?”
Fenris choked on his drink.
After a moment of coughing, Varania found he was fit enough for her to continue. “You cannot string him along like this. We’ve already burdened him with helping us. I was surprised to learn you never invited him to live with you. Even the poorest of those in Tevinter have made attempts to share burdens when courting and I have yet to see you put in such effort. Surely I do not need to remind you that he lives in a sewer!”
“Yeah!” Hati exclaimed in agreement. “I told him his passion was as bright as the sun itself. You know what he said to me? ‘Oh that’s a compliment if I’ve ever heard one. That is very sweet of you, Hati. Thank you.’”
Fenris glared. Hati smirked in response.
When Anders opened his clinic door, he knew it was Fenris on the other side. But he didn’t expect Fenris to be holding a handful of colorful flowers...flowers that Anders was pretty sure belonged in a garden from one of Hawke’s neighbors.
“Oh, well, this is a surprise.” Anders grinned and let the elf in before closing the doors behind him.
“I know it is late but...” Fenris didn’t finish the sentence and practically shoved the flowers into Anders’s hands.
The mage smiled. “They’re lovely, Fenris. Thank you. What did I do to earn such a lovely gift from my favorite elf?”
Anders noticed the flush that appeared on Fenris’s face as the warrior tensed up before he responded. “I...I am aware we have not spent as much time together since the incident with Danarius...” There was the complete and utter lack of sex for one. Okay, no, that was not the important part right now! “And...I wanted to ensure you that despite that, I do not want you to feel that I have neglected you.”
Anders felt fluttering in his chest, as if he was teenager all over again back in the Circle, and he knew his heart just melted. “Oh Love...that is-I...I’m touched. I’m very touched. Thank you! I felt I was the one neglecting you! And here you are, showing up on my doorstep with quite lovely, and expensive-looking, flowers. I do not know how to even match your gesture!”
“Youcouldlivewithme...”
“I’m sorry...what?” Anders leaned in a bit closer. Maybe it was the lack of lighting but Anders could’ve sworn the red only deepened on Fenris’s face.
“You could...live with me...”
“Oh...” Anders felt his own face get a smidge warmer than a moment ago.
“I...am fond of your company, Mage...Anders. I know that I do not have anyone to vouch for my experience as a parter nor can I say I know how to be one. Despite that, if you are willing, I wish to be yours if you wish to be mine.”
“Oh Maker...” Anders felt his eyes ready to tear up and he swiftly wiped them away. “Oh Love...I’m the one that always worried I can’t give you what you want and deserve. I have nothing to offer you. To hear you say those words to me...how can I say no? I would not blame you if you changed your mind but...how could I reject someone as considerate and understanding as you’ve been to me?”
“Do not be ridiculous, Mage...Anders. You have much to offer.”
“I hope that wasn’t a size joke,” Anders smirked.
“It could be.”
Anders let out a soft laugh, and felt more at ease when Fenris smiled in return. “In all seriousness, I...I’d love to live with you. Is...everyone else okay with it?”
Fenris sighed. “Varania gave me a lecture about how I’m rather poor at being someone suitable for courting. For one I should start using your name...” Fenris muttered the last part. “Hati then gave me a hard time about how I am not romantic enough........did he really say your passion was as bright as the sun?”
Anders had to resist letting out a laugh. “Um...yes, he did. It was rather sweet. Your son could probably write some amazing love letters. But don’t worry, Love. I think you’re perfect the way you are.”
“You flatter me, Mage...Anders. I am happy to hear you’d be willing to take up residence with me. However, I should remind that we will not be alone.”
“I think I’ll be fine, Love. I’ve had plenty of patients stay overnight here at the clinic and all those camping trips we’ve done when out with Hawke. And I like your family. They’re still adjusting, but...they seem like good people. Okay, I also appreciate that they seem to like me a little more than before.”
Fenris nodded, seemingly understanding. “As am I. Shall we leave then?”
“Wh-What? You mean starting now?!”
“Sooner the better. You do not need to move everything now of course. But you can share my bed again.”
Anders laughed again. “Love, is that really a good idea with your family there...?”
“If they complain, I will deal with it in the morning.”
“Fenris!” despite the initial protest, Anders had a hard time saying no to being wrapped up in Fenris’s arms, under his bedsheets, and falling asleep to soft kisses...
Despite attempts at being quiet, Anders had a feeling he might’ve been a bit too loud last night...
Varania wasn’t acting any different than usual, but didn’t seem surprised in the slightest that he showed up at breakfast the next morning. Unlike Hati, who was at least surprised when he saw the man. Then Anders overheard Varania saying something to Fenris about changing rooms. Oh Maker...
Anders felt a tug on his tunic as Hati scooted his chair closer to him. “Hey, Ser Anders, can you help me do my hair like yours? I can never do it right. I only know how to make my hair into a bun...but my bangs keep getting in the way regardless.”
Anders smiled and turned slightly to face him. “I can teach you, sure. But why don’t you just cut it? I can help with that too.”
“Maybe..."
“Have you ever had a braid?” Anders asked. Hati shook his head. Anders took out one of his hairbands from his wrist. “You should try it at least once. You have such long and gorgeous hair so it would look better on you than on someone like me. May I?”
Hati nodded and turned around. Anders did his best to straighten the hair with just his fingers before starting on a braid.
“Oh, Ser Anders, I remembered you like cats. Merrill mentioned something about a litter in the Alienage. You think you’ll get one?”
“Oh, well, nothing would please me more really. Though I don’t think Darktown’s a safe place for a cat. Why, are you thinking of picking one up?”
“Maybe...I heard Merrill was having trouble getting interests for them. I do want one though. I want to name them Skoll!”
Anders almost grimaced. “What? No, they need a more dignified name!” He heard Hati chuckle, as if that comment was a joke. Then again, he did the same thing when Anders told of Ser Pounce-a-lot. Guess not everyone will appreciate his names. Anders finished braiding and let the braid rest over the boy’s shoulder. “Still need to cut your bangs. But I kept the braid loose and tied it to more the right so it’ll hang more naturally. Let me know how they feels for you.”
Hati felt the hair in front of him before looking back at Anders. “Thank you! I will!”
Soon, breakfast was laid out by Fenris and Varania. Hati immediately asked if they can bring home some cats. ‘Because Anders made them sound cool’ being one of the reasons. Fenris wanted to refuse. After all, who would look after an animal with him and Anders occasionally running around with Hawke? Varania will soon pick up work as well and Hati was originally meant to stay at the Hawke estate when no one was home. Though Hati was rather used to responsibility...and cats could always get some of the rats that were running around the place...
They ended up with two cats: Skoll and Lady Mooneviere. Varania also was swift in moving to the furthest room possible from her brother’s room. Hati ended up keeping the braid hairstyle. Anders found himself coming home every night to people he’s grown to care for. Fenris felt the same, a routine he hoped to never give up.
Except now Varania was now giving her brother a hard time on when the official engagement announcement was going to happen - Fenris didn’t realize an expensive gift (the bloody cats) was practically the equivalent of an engagement ring...
Oh seetie I'm sad to hear you are feeling bad *hugs* how about watching some dancing birds on youtube?
I’ve just been in lots of pain during the last few days/weeks/months and I think I’m reaching my limit of how much I can brush it off and wait for it to go away.
