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The sands of the Wounded Coast are once again stained with the crimson blood of a group of slavers. While Fenris would usually never find himself complaining about slaying a coterie of these bastards, he found himself in a bit of a predicament at the current affair of things. Hawke had been taking up a surplus of errands, and this had not gone unnoticed by anyone. Everyone knew why he had done so as well, but it remained unspoken between the group, the words hanging by a thread in the air.
It was clear to anyone who had known Hawke for more than a day that he was avoiding his manor, and understandably so. His mother's life was only just stolen from her, and it was agonizing for Hawke to be surrounded by the walls that dreadfully reminded him of his self-proclaimed failure. That is to say, the place reminded him too much of his dearest mother, and he was not ready to face the reality of it all (the time will come, eventually, but not yet).
Hawke's friends were more than accommodating, in their own ways. Varric and Isabela remained the same, joking around with him as they usually did. They didn't want him to feel like the center of attention at a pity-party, and the unsaid agreement between the both of them stated that, while more sensitive to his state of mind, they would not treat him any different than usual. Anders, on the other hand, was not so subtle. He badgered at Hawke to talk about his feelings, only to be brushed off with a laugh and a sentiment of false reassurance. If not for the magnitude of the general situation, Fenris would most certainly call out Anders on his desperation (he had made a mental note to do so eventually, just for the fun of it). Aveline took it upon herself to offer more jobs to Hawke, though hesitantly. She understood loss, but this was Hawke's mother, combined with the deaths of his father and both his siblings. If this helped him keep his mind off of his losses, she figured it would be better than doing nothing. Merrill had planned to talk to Hawke about it upfront, but Isabela advised against that. Instead, she was gentle. Much more so than usual. Her words were as sweet as honey, an attempt at soothing a frail heart. It was appreciated, but ultimately had little effect.
And this is where Fenris comes into play. He knew he should do something, but he was unsure of what steps to take. He felt as though he was not close enough to Hawke to provide any comfort, and after the stunt he pulled a few nights prior, he came to the conclusion his presence would be most unwelcomed. As well, he needed to take into account he's never experienced loss like this, and had no idea how to ease the pain that Hawke had been feeling. Yes, he had lost the Fog Warriors, but they were temporary companions. Leandra raised Hawke and loved him from his first breath to her last. Fenris couldn't understand that, disavowing his own traitorous sister. He could not understand any of this, but did not want to stand idly like an idiot with his feet stuck to the ground.
With no plan and no idea what to say, Fenris felt as though he was in a fantastic position to talk to Hawke. However, he never found the time to. The city would not rest, and neither would Hawke. It wasn't just Kirkwall who stole the time to mourn from Hawke, but the man himself would not allow himself a few moments. This bothered Fenris, but he couldn't quite explain why. This bloody man, making Fenris feel emotions for others.
It's not that he hasn't tried talking to him, but the timing was never quite...right. His first attempt was at a picturesque little cave by Sundermount, infested with all sorts of spiders. Fenris pulled his sword out of the corpse of a recently fallen spider, his face contorting in disgust at the bug blood dripping off the metal. "Hawke," he began, "we need to talk."
Hawke shot a lightning bolt from his staff, landing a nice shot on a toxic spider, before turning to face Fenris, his signature grin plastered on his face. "How about when we're not ass deep in spider guts? Does that sound okay?" It sounded fantastic; if only Hawke had actually followed up afterwards.
Any attempt made afterwards was brushed off in the same manner, with Hawke laughing and putting the conversation off for a later hour, only to never follow through with his word. This would be funny, Fenris thought, if it wasn't making him want to pull his hair right out his roots in frustration. He doubted that Hawke didn't know what Fenris wanted to talk about, and guessed he was putting off the conversation for as long as he possibly could. Fenris wasn't sure if Hawke was avoiding the topic, or avoiding him, and that irritated him.
Fenris, however, found the golden opportunity (well maybe not golden per se; bronze might be a better descriptor) a few days later, during a night out at the Hanged Man. The place was busier than usual, and everyone was getting absolutely shitfaced. The stench of ale was heavier than usual, and would be almost sickening if you hadn't grown a tolerance for it. In the corner of the Hanged Man, Hawke threw a ton of his coin on drinks for his friends, and even more on drinks for himself. In record time, Hawke was more than just a little tipsy. It would've been amusing if Fenris hadn't spent the last several days worrying over him. He decided that Hawke was a little too drunk at this point, and felt it would be wise to excuse the both of them. He placed a hand on Hawke's shoulder and said, quiet enough that only Hawke could hear, "Let's go."
Hawke, making a huge scene, shouted farewells to all his companions for both him and Fenris, before sauntering out behind his newfound chaperone. The walk to Hightown was quiet, with nothing but the sounds of the wind, their footsteps, and the bustling nightlife. Fenris was occupied with his thoughts (most of them being thoughts of Hawke), while Hawke drunkenly stumbled on anything and everything. Upon arriving at Hawke's manor, the man turned to Fenris and gave him a goofy grin. "Thanks for walking the dog, the dog being me," he began blabbering, "The party had just begun, but here I am at home. I would've liked to stay there longer, but seeing as you've taken on the role of my concerned wife... Well anyway, I fare you a good night!" He gave Fenris a lazy salute before pushing his door closed.
Fenris would not allow it, and shoved his arm between the door right before it closed. "I am not finished with you." he said, and invited himself in.
Step One: Get Hawke Alone with You, has just been completed. It was now time for Step Two: Wing the Rest. Fenris looked at Hawke for a bit, trying to find the words. Hawke, completed inebriated, hiccupped before asking, "How long will you stare at me? The night won't be young forever, I'm afraid."
"Ah, yes... Shall we get you a drink first? Water, not more alcohol." Fenris looked for Orana and, upon making eye contact, she scurried off to the kitchen to get the man a glass of cold water. They stood in awkward silence for a few minutes (well, awkward for Fenris. Hawke was much too drunk to really pick up on the atmosphere) before Orana returned, handing the glass to Hawke. He began to take a few sips, before speaking again. "So... what did you need?" He hiccupped again.
Fenris looked down at his feet. His footwear needed to be cleaned. "Ah well... I wanted to apologize first, for the other night..." Fenris felt the shame of his actions catch up to him again. He regretted what he had done, regretted hurting Hawke, and even now felt like a fool for running away. It seemed like fleeing was all he was good for. "I acted irrationally, and I must have hurt you. You did not deserve that."
Hawke was silent for a moment, perhaps to compose himself. Then he spoke, his voice gentle, "Fenris, it's alright." He gave the other man a weak smile. "I won't deny that it hurt me at first, but you didn't mean to, or at least I hope not." (Fenris thought that Hawke seemed to have sobered up a bit.) He looked up to meet Fenris' eyes, before continuing to speak. "If you were worried about that, there was no reason to be. It... didn't change my infatuation towards you, to say the least." He hiccupped once more, and drank some more water.
If he was going to be completely honest, Fenris wasn't expecting that last bit. A "we're still friends" or a "I'm not upset" were what Fenris was prepared to hear. Even a "you stupid nug-humping bastard go die" would've been less surprising, though he never expected that from Hawke. He averted his eyes from Hawke's, trying to mask the embarrassment he felt from that last statement. "I... am glad I have not spoiled your opinion of me."
Hawke gave him a lopsided smile, and took another sip of his water. "Was that all? I should escort you home or," he made a wiggly hand gesture. "something."
Fenris chuckled; it was soft and almost inaudible, but Hawke heard it loud and clear. "I don't think you are in any condition to be escorting me home." His smile fell, and he pursed his lips. "Besides... I did have something else to discuss."
"Oh?" Hawke smirked, "and what might that be?"
Fenris gestured towards Hawke's bedroom, and Hawke wiggled his eyebrows in response. "It is nothing like that, and I ask that you please keep your mind out of the gutter for at least a minute." Even with that sharp response, Fenris couldn't help but laugh a little.
Hawke led Fenris upstairs and the two of them sat side-by-side, neither of them looking at each other. There were several seconds of silence before Fenris spoke up. "Are... are you alright? Wait, do not answer that, I already know you will just lie."
Hawke's smile faltered, but Fenris didn't notice, as his eyes were plastered to the floor. "What is this about, if I may ask?"
"Hawke, you don't need to hide the fact that you have emotions," Fenris replied, keeping his voice low. "I... I don't know what to say, but I would like to be here for you. You should not have to deal with this alone."
A silence had fell upon the room. Fenris was anxious; had he said the wrong thing? Perhaps he was right, and Hawke hadn't wanted to talk to Fenris about this. He was about to speak, but Hawke beat him to it. "Do you... think I'm to blame for her death? Could I have prevented it?" Hawke's eyes were fixed on the fire ahead of him, as if the flames would hypnotize him into forgetting.
Fenris turned to look at Hawke, and he looked so tired. His eyes were weary, and he seemed so much older. The light from the fire accentuated Hawke's features, and Fenris thought he was beautiful (though this is not something Hawke needs to hear today). "You did what you could," Fenris began, trying to find the right words. "You arrived as fast as you could, and you killed the man who took the life from her. She... had been proud of you. I don't understand personally, but I know your mother loved you very much."
Hawke remained silent, his eyes fixated on the fire. Hesitantly, Fenris reached out to grab Hawke's hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Hawke didn't look away from the fire, even as tears began to fall down his face. That night, the stars overhead were dimmer than they had ever been before, and a man wept for the first time in years, comforted by an unlikely friend.
Fenris didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up to the sunlight drifting in through the windows, a warm body asleep next to him. His body was sore, having slept all night in his armor (he would regret this later, but it wasn't very important right now). He looked at Hawke's sleeping face for a long, long time, and eventually brushed several strands of the other man's hair out of his face. This roused Hawke, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. Upon seeing Fenris first thing in the morning, he gave him a lazy smile, and Fenris found himself no less drawn to this man than the tides would be drawn to the ocean. He smiled back at Hawke, and it felt like everything would be alright, at least for a while.