#emjee hawke

[sulky-valkyrie]

Hi from dadwc! I'm very intrigued about "I did warn you not to trust me." From dialogue prompts for Isabela?

Happy Fridaaaaaaaaaay!!! for @dadrunkwriting

Emjee leaned on the bar.  “Thought you said you left.”

Isabela hid a wince.  This wasn't how their reunion was supposed to happen.  Granted, she had no idea how it should've gone, which was why she was here.  Not at Merrill’s, or Emjee's.  Drinking alone, or whatever passed for it in a crowded bar.  Going to the Hanged Man hadn't been the brightest idea, but it was familiar, more so than any other place in Kirkwall.  Maybe, just maybe, Isabela had hoped, if she stood at her usual spot at the bar, she’d know what to say when any of her former friends next stopped by.

She didn’t.  Instead, she downed another shot and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand before gathering the courage to look up.  “I did.  Twice.”

Emjee arched an eyebrow as they pursed their lips together.  Isabela knew that expression well, and hated to see it turned on her.  It meant they weren’t Emjee anymore, but Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, lauded by enemies and hangers-on alike for their service to the city that would’ve chewed them up and spat them out barely four years ago.  She turned away and motioned Corff for another drink.

“Better do it a third time then, I guess,” they said.

Ow.  Isabela spun around, snarl ready on her tongue, but the look on their face wasn’t mocking or angry.  It was… sad.  Worried.  “Why?” she heard herself ask.

Emjee offered a small smile.  “Well, otherwise you lied to me, right?  Terrible thing, secrets and lies in relationships.  If we have one, I mean.”

What about love?  Emjee had asked that first night.  Isabela had brushed the question off before pulling on her boots and sauntering out the door.  But that was before they’d risked the entire city to keep her safe.  Before they showed her love wasn’t a bauble to be locked up and admired in its gilded cage, but a living breathing thing, made of hopes and fears and dreams, and,t most importantly, of action.

Yet still she’d left, running from those feelings as much as the howling mob who’d called for her execution for bringing the qunari down on the city in the first place.  

She’d left, but now she was back.  She slid her rum toward Emjee, like a boozy little olive branch.  “I…”  Had she ever apologized for anything before in her life?  Maker, why was talking about this so hard?

“Yeah?”  Emjee prompted as they sipped at it, grimaced, then sipped again.  

“I did warn you not to trust me,” Isabela finally said, then offered a soft smile of her own.  It wasn’t enough, but hopefully, it could be a start.

[sulky-valkyrie]

For your Merrill prompt request! I saw this and I thought of Merrill instantly

"It's really subtle. It's so subtle I almost boke my nose as it hit me in the face, but it really is incredibly subtle." For any combination of Meribelahawke :)

Merrill talking about Hawke being subtle instead of Merrill discussing subtlety with Hawke because the prompts just kinda do their own thing sometimes.

For @dadrunkwriting

~~~

“Daisy, how could you not realize?”

“They were being subtle!” 

Varric rolled his eyes.  “Emjee sat in your lap and asked if you were busy tonight.”

“I thought they were lonely; their mother is always with the de Launcets and with Carver gone I thought -” She paused.  “Maybe if they’d asked me to ride their halla?”

He shook his head.  “Dalish don’t ride your halla either!”

She nodded.  “Exactly!  It’s the right kind of subtle that almost breaks my nose.  Could’ve asked to polish my ironbark staff too.”

“Do you even have an ironbark staff?”  

Merrill blushed.  “Not for combat?”

[sulky-valkyrie]

First kiss prompts: '' you kissed me first. '' '' i definitely didn't. '' for anything you like but Fenders would make me happiest.

hullo, my dearest! I thought I was done for the day, but here we are. for @dadrunkwriting A continuation of an awkward bath (wink wink) the morning after Fenris had to get Anders to safety when Justice threw down on a dozen Templars. ~~~~ That day with Hadrianna had changed everything.  Or perhaps it had been the evening with the Templars, or the night with the not-quite-kiss, or the next morning with the bath.  Whatever it was, whenever it happened, they'd barely talked about it, but something was definitely different.  Several somethings.  Hawke no longer worried when they asked the pair of them to do work together, and neither one of them protested the other's company.

Hawke didn't pry, and they didn't discuss it. Anders was terrified that naming it would make it real enough to lose, and Fenris . . . seemed content.  They were heading back to Hawke’s mansion to report on what little they'd discovered from clearing out the Undercuts’ safehouse when Fenris' hand brushed his every so slightly.  He knew what it meant.  “Again?” he teased.

“Only if you are interested.”  The elf’s voice was nonchalant, but Anders knew better now.  The way he licked his lips, the way his ears tilted, even the way he stood spoke volumes.

“Only if you take me to dinner afterward.”

Fenris snorted.  “I always do.”

The mage shook his head.  “Whatever Orana is making doesn’t count.”

Fenris stopped.  Anders made it a few paces before realizing it and turning around. “Fine, mage.  What would suit?  What do you want?”

“I -” he snapped his mouth shut.  What he wanted wasn’t something any mage was allowed to have, much less something the elf would want to give.  “Forget it.  Orana’s cooking is fine.”  He started walking again, only to be dragged backward by his arm into an alley.  “Oh for fuck’s sake, Fenris, your house is less than a hundred paces away!” he protested.

“Anders.”  Fenris rarely used the mage’s name.  So rarely than when those two syllables slipped from his mouth, like velvet, like gravel, like chocolate, deep and dark and dangerous, it was all the mage could do to stay upright.  “What would you want? For this to continue?”

“Is it even about me?”  he retorted.  “Or just a chance to get your rocks off with -” whatever else he had to say was cut off by lips against his, and a tongue slipping in his mouth.  Maker, had they even kissed since that bath?  Probably not.  Just the occasional unspoken undiscussed tryst.  Though the occasions were getting more frequent.  He leaned into the kiss, returning it with the urgency of a starving man at a feast, pulling Fenris as close as he could, pressing their bodies together, and yes, that was definitely interest he felt against his hip.

The elf broke off, breathing raggedly, but didn’t pull away.  Not like he had in the bathroom, though even then he looked like he regretted it.  “We will discuss this further,” he rumbled.  “But Hawke needs us.”

“Hopefully not for anything like this.”  There went his mouth again, running off without him.

“I would hope Merrill and Isabela are sufficient for their needs at this point,” the other man said drily.  “And if not, I suspect adding a fourth player would only create confusion.”

Nothing had been resolved, yet Anders’ heart felt lighter as they headed toward the Hawke estate.  If nothing else, he’d know where he stood with the elf.  Knelt.  Not the time, not the time, think about Wynne spanking a naked Irving.  He clung to that thought as he tried to will his interest - why was he lying to himself? It was a Maker-damned erection - away.

Bodahn didn’t answer when they arrived, so they let themselves in via the cunning method of Fenris phasing through the door, then headed to the library.

“Hawke?”  Anders called.  The only answer was a titter, or possibly a squeak.  “I think they might be busy.”

“Then we wait,”  the elf said stoically as he hung his sword on the hooks Hawke had installed just for him, then held out his hand for the mage to pass over his staff to hang on its own little stand.  Each of them had one; a tacit reminder that they always had a home here, even if they slept somewhere else most nights.  Bels’ daggers were, well, not hung up, but stuck in the wood underneath, and Merrill’s staff was on the floor, more-or-less under its usual holster. 

Fenris sat down on the couch stiffly, as if he was unsure what to do with his body.  The mage moved to kneel in front of him with an arched eyebrow and fluttered eyelids, but was rebuffed with a gentle but firm smile.  Not the only thing that’s firm.

“What’s the play here?”  Anders asked as he sat down on the other end of the couch.  “Wait for them so you can delay whatever it was you wanted to talk about another hour or day or week or year?”  Or forever?

The other man shook his head.  “I don’t wish to disturb them.”

“Good call, you know crazy mating animals can be, and I, for one, would probably rather be mauled by a wolf than a hawk.”  He winked.  “Especially when you kissed me first.”

Fenris sat bolt upright and narrowed his eyes at him.  “I did no such thing.”

“Your mouth says you didn’t, but those burning red ears say you did.”  The mage scooted closer.  “Just now, in the alley.  Surely you haven’t locked lips with that many people in the last fifteen minutes to forget little ol’ me?”

The elf looked away.  “You have a point.”

“Then in the bath, you did it too.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, you were sitting on me and I was naked, still counts.”

“You most definitely kissed me first then, mage.”

“Nope, I was fighting for my life, proving I could defend myself, so all tactics are off.  My kiss didn’t count until you did it back.”

The elf chuckled ruefully.  “You’re just making these rules up, aren’t you? Chronologically, you kissed me first.  End of story.”

“Hawke!”  Anders shouted, still smiling at Fenris, though a bit more mischievously than the elf would prefer, if the wary look in his eyes was any indicator.

Several curses later, they peeked around the door, hair dripping wet and soap on their nose.  ”This better be important.  I gave everyone the afternoon off so I could -”

The other mage interrupted her.  “You remember a few weeks back when I was all fucked up with magebane and you thought Fenris -”

“Yes, it haunts my blasted nightmares,” they said flatly.

Anders winced.  “Sorry about that.”  He smiled brightly.  “But anyway, I can see you’re a busy person, so just tell me who was kissing who when you came back home the next day, called us randy tomcats and threw a boot at me?”

“That’s -” they were pulled backwards into the hallway.

Someone squealed, someone else giggled, and what was definitely Isabela’s voice said, “Oh, Kitten, all over the stairs?”

Hawke reappeared, now significantly closer to the floor, and with a much pinker hue to their skin.  “You both were grinding on each other on the floor.  My floor.  Which, I’ll point -” they squawked and were dragged out of sight.  “We can continue this later!” they shouted.  The laughter faded out as what Anders had to assume were Merrill and Isabela dragged them back to the bathtub.

Anders turned back to Fenris.  “Well, if we were ‘grinding on the floor’ then clearly you started it since I was -”

The elf scowled as he grabbed Anders’ collar and dragged him over for another kiss.  “If I’m the one who started it, then it’s on me to finish it as well.”

[sulky-valkyrie]

WIP WEDNESDAY

tagged by the GLORIOUS @pinkfadespirit and @tea42 and delighted to be thought of by such august personages 💜💖💜

This is from an as yet unnamed ficlet about my nonbinary Hawke.

☆☆☆

Bela wasn’t wrong about Emjee being tired. Mother has been trying to send them on dates with nobles again, and that was always exhausting. And confusing for their suitors: Emjee had learned to hide their laughter as every single nobleman that came calling stared blankly at them when they came down the stairs. They expected a woman, and they got Emjee instead. Most of the time, Leandra tried to be understanding that she didn’t have a daughter anymore, but the obsession with continuing the Amell line, even when it wasn’t the name ‘Amell’ that carried weight anymore, was wearisome on the best days, and downright shitty the rest of the time.

[sulky-valkyrie]

ok. potential merrill prompt. merrihawke after leandra's death? specifically, a conversation around merrill's use of blood magic. hopefully with a supportive hawke (still) but! feel free to run with it however. i shall brainstorm some more as well >:)

Angst and also Isabela joined the party. #sorrynotsorry for @dadrunkwriting ~~~

Everything was too hard.  Lighting a fire was too much work, so the room was chilly.  Pulling the curtains open was too complicated, so the room was too dark.  Everything was too quiet or too loud, from the beating of their heart to the people in the streets below.  Didn’t all those damn idiots down there understand that their mother was dead?  That they should be shut up in their bedrooms wishing they could weep just like Emjee was?

Isabela sat down on the bed and tugged at their blankets.  “Hawke, babe, you should eat.”

They rolled over.  It hurt enough to grieve alone, but seeing the worry on their friends and lovers’ faces was just another too much.  “Not hungry, Bels.”

“I know, but you still need to eat something.”  Her hands were warm and soft, nothing like their mother’s in those last moments when she was already gone but hadn’t quite stopped.  “Kitten tried to bake something for you.”

Thinking about Merrill made Emjee’s heart sink.  The poor thing had been nearly as devastated when they’d found everything Quentin had been up to as Emjee had.  They both knew the perils of blood magic, but to see it used like that, carved up flesh stitched together for -

They bolted from the bed and barely made it to the bucket.  Sad, wheezing dry heaves wracked Emjee’s body as Bels slid down to the floor next to them.  “Let it out, honey.”  She stroked their back gently, hands still warm, so warm, reminding them that there were people who were alive who cared for them far more than - No, we’re not going down that road.  She loved me, she was shit at saying it, but she loved me.

“There’s nothing left to let out,” they whispered, still hanging over the bucket.  It was a lie.  They still hadn’t cried.  Crying just . . . felt useless.  And they hadn’t been able to anyway.  Maybe all those tears had dried up after Bethany.

“Lethallen?”  Merrill’s voice called quietly from the hallway.  “I heard you vom - moving around, do you need me to change the bucket again?”  Emjee shook their head.  Had they even talked to her since Anders had helped Varric put them to bed?  The past day or three was a blur of too fast and too slow and too much and too little and never enough and their mother was dead and they were supposed to just . . . keep going? 

Bels pulled them into her arms.  “Down here, Kitten.”

The door creaked open and the elf padded around the bed with a tray of muffins.  “I baked.”  She smiled shakily.  “Not these though, mine were - well, not even the dog wanted them, so Orana did the same recipe, but . . .”  she trailed off and bit her lip as she sat down on the floor, not quite within arm’s reach.  “I’m these muffins’ godmother.”

Andraste’s flaming ass, they had missed her and her nonsense that always made perfect sense.  She and Bels just fit together, and Emjee didn’t know how they’d ended up part of it too, but they thanked the Maker every day for two women as devoted to them as each other.  They tugged the tray out of the way and scooted out of Bels’ arms to lie with their head in Merrill’s lap.  “I’m sorry,” they whispered, burying their face in her belly.”

“Whatever for?”  Merrill asked.

“I said all those awful things about blood magic when -” 

Merrill put a gentle hand over their mouth.  “Lethallen, everything you said was true.  Not just true, but likely.”  She paused.  “It’s why I only ever use my own blood.  If I’m not willing to pay the price, how can I expect someone else to?”

“Could you have done it?”  They regretted the question immediately, but now that it was out there, the only way through was forward.  “Not that you would, but . . . could you?”

Merrill stroked their hair tenderly.  “Probably.”

“But you won’t.”  It wasn’t a question.  It wasn’t a demand, either.  It was an observation.

“Never.”  Her voice was firm.

“Not even to fix the mirror?”  Why were they pushing so hard?

Merrill tugged Emjee up to her chest.  “A demon could manifest tomorrow and tell me I would have full access to the Eluvian if I killed Meredith and used her blood, and I still wouldn’t do it.  Not because she doesn’t deserve to die, but because I wouldn’t use her like that.”  She leaned down and kissed their forehead, politely ignoring how pitiful and unwashed they no doubt smelled.  “Nothing is worth stealing another’s life for it.  Quentin said he did it for love, but he did it for arrogance.  He did it because he thought he was more important than the rest of Thedas.  Blood magic was his tool, but it was Quentin who wielded it.”  The elf’s words eased something in their chest that had been strung tighter than Bianca since the white lilies had arrived.  They yawned, suddenly feeling sleepy instead of just exhausted beyond reason, and closed their eyes.

Bels scooted over to Emjee’s other side.  “There’s a perfectly serviceable bed right behind us, you know.”

“Too tired,” they protested.  “Sleep here.”

Bels slipped her arms under them.  “C’mon, I’ll pick you up, all you have to do is eat a godmuffin.”

It wasn’t really worth the fight, not when Emjee was so tired.  “Fine.”  Bels scooped them up and dumped them on the bed as Merrill picked up the muffin tray and crawled in after them.  They ate muffins until Emjee’s eyes couldn’t stay open, then Bels took the tray downstairs.  As they settled into the middle of the covers, head tucked into Merrill’s shoulder, they reached up to tilt her to look at them.  “Mer?  Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, lethallen.”

They took a deep breath.  “Will you teach me?”

[sulky-valkyrie]

What about “you want books? how many? screw it, i’ll buy you the whole damn store.” I'm not saying I'm on one braincell when it comes to ships regarding Merrill but I like Meribelahawke what can I say

I'm a terrible person and stuck only to the spirit of the dialogue, not the dialogue itself. Please forgive me. For @dadrunkwriting

~~ Hawke was reading in bed, half upside down with their legs propped up against the wall, when they heard the front door slam open.

Bodahn, naturally, was fit to be tied, but since Dumat hadn’t started barking, it was probably fine.  Probably.  They closed the book and listened carefully.

“Kitten, fancy seeing you here!”  Just Bels then.  Why was she actually using the door though?  Most times she stopped by, she swooped in through the bedroom window to surprise them in the most delicious of ways.

“Really?  Where else would I be?”  Merrill asked from the library.  “Oh no, I haven’t forgotten to be somewhere, have I?”

“You’re fine, sweetpea, I promise”  Bels laughed as her voice neared the bedroom.  “Hawke upstairs?”

“They said something about a bath, but I haven’t heard water running.”

“Thanks, Kitten!”  The door burst open.  “Hawke!  Sweetie, darling, have I mentioned you’re my favorite human?”

Needy Bels was always a good time.  They tossed the book onto the nightstand and rolled over.  “Not lately,” they said with a grin, then patted the bed next to them.  “What does the infamous pirate need nobility for today?  Something dirty, I hope?”

Isabela threw herself onto the bed, nearly bouncing Hawke to the floor.  “Yes, but not for me.”

They flailed dramatically then grabbed at her to steady themselves.  Then grabbed again for good measure.  Okay, maybe one more little -

“Stop, Hawke, this is serious,” Bels laughed, pulling their hand out of her shirt.  “It’s for Merrill.”

“Merrill needs something dirty?”  Hawke asked.  “It’s not like her to -”

“I think it’s supposed to be a surprise, but she’s not having any luck with Anders.”  She nipped at the mage’s fingers.  “I can’t decide if he doesn’t keep it written down or if she’s just that shit at sneaking in to look.”

They pulled their hand away.  “Look for what, exactly?”

Bels leaned close to their ear.  “Dirty spells,” she breathed, pitching her voice to sound like the adorable little blood mage, and well, if that didn’t make them shiver all over, what possibly could?  She continued in her normal voice, with only a smirk to show she knew exactly what effect she was having.  “Remember that electricity thing he used to do?”

They snorted.  “I didn’t sleep with him, remember?”

Bels humphed and rolled off the bed.  “Fine, remember the electricity thing I told you he used to do?”

“You haven’t stopped talking about it for nearly seven years,” Hawke snickered.  “You’ve also tried to convince me at least twice a month to try to figure it out, but I’m shit at lightning and really don’t want to explain a dead woman in my bed again.”

“Just ask Anders, it’ll - wait, again?”

“Idunna, remember?”

“You weren’t in her bed, just sort of around it.”  Isabela waved a hand at them dismissively.  “Anyway, the point is, I think I have a lead on where to find a dirty magic book.”

“Please tell me this isn’t your relic.”

She shook her head.  “No.  Well, probably not?  I don’t think Orlesian shops like this would . . . anyway!”  She tugged at Hawke’s arm.  “We should go look, you know magic-y things, so you can tell if it’s real or not.”

“But if Merrill wants to surprise us -”

“Just leave it downstairs with the . . . I don’t know, something Fenris wouldn’t borrow - he doesn’t need anything else to spook him.”

Hawke eyed their lockbox thoughtfully.  Alternatively . . . “Hey Merrill!”

“Coming!”  Her footsteps barely made any noise as she raced up the stairs.  “You didn’t start without -” as the door opened, she stopped.  “You’re still wearing clothing?” she asked, disappointed.

“C’mere,” they said, holding a hand out.  Merrill took it happily and wound it around her waist as she rubbed her nose in their hair.  “You wanna buy a book store with me?”

[sulky-valkyrie]

Screwing around in Picrew and ....

All praise to @storybookhawke for helping me bring Emjee Hawke to life.

Dragon Age F!Hawke Maker

Create your own custom lady Hawke, courtesy of storybookhawke @ tumblr. A link to either my tumblr or this picrew would be nice. There's mor