Author Notes: Another short chapter, sorry folks.
But a Fenris chapter this time!
Next time will be a Wicked Grace scene, because every DA2 fic needs one.
Chapter Eight: A Heart to Heart
Fenris had been left in a fairly confused position from the previous night that both Hawke and the mage. He currently occupied the worn out high-back chair near the smoldering hearth in the master bedroom with a freshly opened bottle of spiced wine to his right. The elf's thoughts were on both of the men that had been rendered into dismal messes from that cursed expedition into the Deep Roads. They had achieved riches just as they wanted, but at what cost?
Fenris had actually felt a speck of sympathy towards the mage when he saw that wretched expression on his face and those amber eyes shamefully averted from his. The scruffy mage looked like some kind of kicked puppy, or kitten as the mage would have been preferred to be called. But what startled him more was the fact it gave him a small sick thrill to see the mage in such a distressed state.
A frown tugged at his lips and turned into a small sneer as he grabbed the bottle of wine and pressed the glass rim to his lips. Fenris wasn't sure if he was more upset with himself for wanting to dominate over the mage or having any kind of feelings at all for the abomination. He took a long draft from the bottle and enjoyed the smooth burn at the back of his throat. Perhaps if he drank enough he'd be able to forget those conflicting emotions.
"Hitting the bottle a little earlier, don't you think?" A voice called out from the entrance of the room. It was Hawke. The other cause for these conflicted emotions he was currently feeling. Fenris lowered the bottle from his lips and wiped the back of his hand against his lips.
"Hn, considering I haven't slept this is just the right time." Fenris retorted back as he finally dared to take a glance in the human's direction. He could see an array of emotions on the man's face, which did nothing to sate Fenris' on his own confliction and frustration.
"I see. I came by to apologize for last night."
"Apologize for what? You were upset about Bethany." Fenris shot back with a grumble as he felt his entire body tense when the other warrior moved further into the room and occupied the space in front of his hearth.
"It's still no excuse for attacking you."
There was a certain pain in the man's words at this and Fenris had to contemplate his own feelings about the matter. It wasn't as if it were his first kiss. It was probably the most enjoyable one he'd ever experienced. Considering Danarius was the only thing to compare it too.
"It's something I am used to, Hawke." Fenris finally replied after a full moment of silence, a dark chuckle following. This seemed to cause the other warrior to visibly flinch and Fenris frowned. He had just compared Hawke to Danarius and his companion knew this.
"You worry too much, its fine." Fenris reassured him as he cradled the bottle of spiced wine between his calloused hands. He averted his gaze away from the other and focused it upon the bottle as he smoothly rolled the bottle between his palms.
A small sigh echoed through the room as Hawke occupied the other chair across from his own. He could feel the intense stare coming from the other and Fenris shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had a sudden urge to stand or pace, but Hawke wouldn't allow this as he finally spoke.
"The lyrium bands, did they hurt last night?" Again it was about his branding.
Fenris remained silent for the moment as the scowl deepened on his features. He had already told Hawke that he was fine about what occurred last night. Why did the man refuse to let the matter drop? He dared a glance and his heart-ached at the expression he was making.
"…You know you could let Anders take a look at them."
"I am not allowing that abomination anywhere near me!" Fenris snapped as he clutched the bottle in his hands, stopping himself from chunking the wine at Hawke's head. So that was what he was so concerned about?! He had gotten his hopes up only to have that bastard flaunt the mage in his face again. He should have known that Hawke wouldn't want some broken former-slave.
"But he might be able to help you remember." Hawke had attempted to reason but was successfully silenced with the bottle of wine shattering against the stone-wall of the fireplace as Fenris' temper got the best of him at last.
"I said no."
"Fine—I don't suppose you'll be up to a game of Wicked Grace tonight? Varric wants to celebrate finding a few buyers for our treasures." The man quickly changed the subject, knowing that if he were to continue with his line of questioning he'd wind up on the floor with his heart in the elf's hand. Not a pretty sight.
Fenris calm down with the changing of the subject as he crossed his arms over his armored chest and contemplated a moment. "Sounds like a fine idea—Perhaps I'll be able to win back some of my coin." He retorted as he slumped back into the chair with his sneer turning into a lessened frown.
"You actually think you'll be able to win your coin back from Isabella? You're better off just having me loan you the money." Hawke joked with a hardly laugh.
The laugh put Fenris more at ease as his body relaxed further and allowed a soft half-chuckle to escape past his own lips. He stood from his seat with a slight stumble with Hawke catching him by his elbow to keep him balanced. Fenris mumbled a word of thanks as he glanced up towards the other warrior with a tense moment of silence. He wanted to desperately feel those strong lips against his, but instead he walked Hawke to the mansion's entrance to bid him farewell.
He would just have to forget what had happened last night. It was nothing more than a fluke and it would be impossible between them. Not with his past and those lyrium bands burned into his flesh.