Prompt: BSN Weekly Prompt on Fenris Appreciation thread - Crossover time...
AN: One of the options give was to crossover with DAO. I'd been wanting to write a 'brood-off' fic since the game came out so I figured I would do so at this time.
The words echoed in Nathaniel's head. "A motherfucking brood-off." He should not have reacted as he had to the elf, but he was honestly getting tired of hearing over and over again: Oh that Fenris, he's so hot right now.
Nathaniel Howe had been brooding for so many more years than that upstart. He had something to prove and prove it he would, on the runway of the glum. He would see that elf's dark and twisted background with an equally depressing one of this own.
The men prepared to each in turn that their walk down the runway, a myriad of onlookers peering at them with expectant eyes. Nathaniel stretched, muscled arms rising above his head, shoulders rolling back, eyebrows furrowing. Fenris pumped his arm, swinging it about in the air as if throwing some phantom item at a wall.
They were ready, but there was only one problem… "Who is going to judge this thing?" Nathaniel had to admit Fenris' voice had a lush quality to it, a deep timbre that was enough to melt the smallclothes off any nearby women or men, even himself. Time had not been as kind to his voice, something gravely overtaking his tone, adding a roughened and hoarse edge to his speech that had not been there during his prime.
From the thick of the crowd, blue eyes blazing steely, Loghain stepped forth, apparently visiting Kirkwall on very important Loghain business. "I will."
Loghain approached the two men, a hand placed upon each of their shoulders. "This will be a straight brood-off. Old school rules. First brooder walks. Second brooder duplicates then elaborates." He fisted a hand and pumped at the air. "Alright men. Let's go to work." He snorted derisively. "Brood."
Fenris looked down the line of nose at Nathaniel, moss green eyes narrowing. "Age before broody."
The game was on.
Nathaniel walked to the far end of the runway, his back to the spectators. All his feelings, all the power of his brood was concentrated within a single stare as he turned around. Grey eyes smoldered anger-fire as he stalked down the runway.
Fenris followed. Shoulders slumped forward, his walk a bit lower to the ground but not lacking for intensity. Bare feet padded against the runway in a commanding manner, biding all to look in his direction just in time to catch an inferno of green lighting with fury within his eyes. A hand rose to empty air, cupping at something was not there. And with a faint tilt of the head, his fingers brushed against phantoms. A mix of emotions coalesced, anger fading into something intoxicatingly pants melting. He held that pose for a moment, before allowing his hand to drop at his side and a smug look to spring into action as he peered back at Nathaniel.
A scowl spread along the lines of Nathaniel's mouth at the display. He channeled all his antipathy into his moves. Every item in his arsenal was put to use: the slant of his expressive eyebrows, the manner in which his mouth could twist into the most sultry of snarls, the prominence of his father's nose upon his face. But nothing seemed to phase the phaseshifting Fenris. Each maneuver was met with something just a hair more intense, just a touch more tormented.
And then Fenris went in for the kill, a final move that Nathaniel did not know how to top.
The elf lit bright blue, markings upon his skin illuminated in a moment of great fury. Hands shot out, grabbing at empty air once again as if someone stood before him, their arms within Fenris' grasp. A low growl grew within the back of his throat as he pushed toward a wall and proceeded to pump his hips into it. The crowd erupted in gasp peppered applause.
Nathaniel's head hung low. There was no way for him to match such a performance. No one had ever bothered to make him a love interest.
Loghain left his position at the end of the runway and walked toward Nathaniel and slapped the ground at his feet. "Disqualified!"
Self-satisfaction twitched at the corners of Fenris' mouth. "Better luck next game."