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In hindsight, Hawke probably should have seen this coming.
Mistake one. He was walking home from the Hanged Man after insisting he was sober enough to walk home with only the company of his mabari, Puppy. He was definitely far from sober.
Mistake two. He took back alleys that would make the trip home quicker. He always did, and he had never been hurt before. He usually had someone, namely Fenris, with him though. Fenris had stayed home tonight.
And mistake three, ignoring the clear warning signs from Puppy. The nervousness, the occasional growls and whimpers. Hawke figured the mabari was just jumpy since it was late. He was also drunk, so.
Hawke didn’t even realize something was off until he felt someone quickly approach him from behind.
Hawke attempted to turn on them and cast a glyph to hold them in place, but before he could move he felt blinding pain on the side of his head. As the world faded to black and he began to fall, he saw Puppy take off in a run.
Good. At least he had some hope of making it out of this.
Fenris woke to the sound of scratching at his door. Immediately, he shot straight up and grabbed his sword. A quick glance out one of his windows confirmed it was early morning. Warily, he approached his front door, ready to attack at any moment. As soon as he opened the door, however, he was knocked down by something huge. Huge and familiar.
“Hawke’s mabari?” he asked as the canine backed off of him. A quick check of his collar confirmed that this was, indeed, Hawke’s mabari. But no Hawke. Fenris was struck with a chill down his spine at the implications of the mabari being here without his owner.
The mabari turned and ran off, and Fenris was quick to stand and follow, fear creeping up on him as he began to fear the worst. Hawke, bleeding out somewhere in the middle of the city, alone because Fenris had skipped one night of Wicked Grace.
It was early morning, and as such not many people were out and about yet. There were a few, however, to turn and watch Fenris strangely as he hurriedly chased after the mabari. The mabari stopped in the middle of an alley close to the Hanged Man and began to whimper, dropping to the ground mournfully. Hawke was nowhere in sight.
Fenris was beginning to think he had panicked for nothing when something caught his eye. A staff, carelessly tossed to the side, almost imperceptible where it lay against the wall, hidden in shadows. It was a familiar staff, one he saw nearly every day.
His blood ran cold as he slowly walked over to pick it up, scanning the area for other signs of a struggle. Upon careful inspection, there were small amounts of blood smeared on the ground, as well as scuff marks leading out of the alley. Fenris snarled at the sight and followed the scuff marks, but the trail cut off much too soon for his liking, leaving him standing near the docks. He let out a frustrated growl and began to pace.
Forming a plan, Fenris turned around and broke into a run towards the Hanged Man, with Puppy in tow. Hawke was missing. And Fenris would find him.
When Hawke woke up, he knew something was horribly wrong. Well, something other than the fact that he woke up in a warehouse he didn’t recognize with a killer headache and a distinct wetness still caking the side of his head.
He was slow to wake, groggy with sleep and probably a concussion. He opened his eyes to blinding light, squeezing them shut again. It was a few minutes before he tried opening them again, blinking a few times to clear his vision. He was disoriented, everything in front of him swirling in a confusing mess of color. He was lying on his side, hands shackled behind him and his legs bound in rope. There was a gag in his mouth, one Hawke immediately wanted out so he could go wash out his mouth.
Hawke curled in on himself and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to summon his magic to heal himself. Healing wasn’t his specialty, but he could get the job done. When he tried, however, nothing happened. It wasn’t just the disorientation and the fact that they took his staff that was stopping him from using his magic. There was something else wrong with him, something inhibiting his magic.
“You awake?” a too-loud voice asked above him.
Hawke didn’t bother uncurling, just opened his eyes and tried to peer up at whoever was talking. The man was a blurry mess. Hawke’s vision was still swimming, so he couldn’t make out any of the man’s features. Judging by his voice, however, Hawke had never met this man before. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, and achieved a small improvement. Still, not great.
Hawke didn’t bother to reply, just closed his eyes and turned away. That earned him a kick to the shin, sending sharp pain shooting up his leg. That was going to bruise. He made a noise of pain and glared up at his captor.
“Still acting high and mighty even though you’re the one on the ground?” the man scoffed, reaching down and pulling out Hawke’s gag. Hawke coughed wetly, curling in on himself even more.
He attempted to tell the man he was overreacting, but he found even without the gag it was difficult to speak. His voice came out as more of a pained groan.
“‘M here to give you another dose of whatever this is,” the man said, holding up a small glass bottle, “Magebane and Maker knows what else. Fucks you up real good, makes you nice and docile for the transportation.”
Ah. That explained a few things. Hawke sent what he hoped was a questioning gaze up to the man, hoping he was as much of a blabbermouth as he seemed. Luckily, the man responded.
“Got a buyer in Tevinter, willing to pay a pretty penny for you,” the man leered down at him, “Not sure why. I don’t think you’re as strong as people claim you are. Not very pretty, either.”
Hawke ignored the poor attempt at a jab and closed his eyes again, attempting to ignore the man in favor of concentrating on his surroundings. He was laying against a dirty wooden floor. He could feel the way it scratched against his face. The air tasted like salt, so this must have been by the docks. No doubt so they could ship him out as soon as they could. Judging by the light coming in from gaps in the roof, it was midday. He still had his usual robes on, and his head was pounding.
“Well since you’re lucid enough to be askin’ questions, I better give you this now,” the man said, and reached down to grab at Hawke.
Turning his head away, Hawke clamped his mouth shut. The man delivered a swift punch to the exposed back of Hawke’s head, nearly sending his forehead slamming into his own knees.
Ouch. Hawke was fairly certain that was exactly where they had hit him in order to knock him out. Disoriented once again by yet another head wound, Hawke found it harder to jerk away as the man forcibly grabbed his chin and lifted his face up enough to pour the liquid down his throat. Hawke choked and sputtered, attempting to spit the mixture out, but the man clamped a filthy hand over his mouth.
“Spit on me and I cut a finger off,” the man warned, sounding more dangerous now than ever. Hawke reluctantly swallowed down the rest of the mixture, coughing when the man removed his hand.
A foot planted on his shoulder was all it took to send Hawke sprawling back onto the ground, his other shoulder hitting the ground hard and sending another wave of sharp pain through his head as it was jostled. Hawke grunted on impact. The man laughed and walked away.
I definitely have a concussion, Hawke thought bitterly before drifting back into unconsciousness.
Fenris assembled a small team to help him look for Hawke, people who weren’t busy anyways and could quickly drop whatever they were doing to help him. Varric, Isabella, and to his displeasure, Anders. The only thing that convinced him to allow Anders to come was the fact that Hawke may need a healer. And, of course, Hawke’s mabari.
Fenris and the others were currently searching the docks for any signs of Hawke. The trail left off at the docks, so the man had to be here somewhere. Fenris had split off to follow Puppy when the canine suddenly rushed off with purpose.
Just as Fenris was beginning to despair that it was too late, they had taken too long and they would never find Hawke, he was gone and Fenris had never properly apologized for leaving him that night, never reconciled, he saw him.
There, on a small dock, away from where most ships docked, was a group of men surrounding a limp figure. The men seemed anxious. The figure was on its knees on the wooden planks of the dock, unmoving and mostly hidden by the other men. Had Fenris not been anxiously looking for Hawke, he may have just scanned over the men and not even noticed. Now, however, he stilled.
Hawke was on his knees on the wooden planks of the docks, hands bound behind his back. His head was bowed, and he was swaying a bit. The men around him did their best to hide him from view, talking urgently with one another.
Upon confirming that the man he saw was indeed Hawke, Fenris roared into action. Immediately his lyrium tattoos began to glow a bright blue, startling the men surrounding his former lover as well as several passers-by. He all but barreled into the men, knocking a few right into the water. A few had drawn their swords at this point and charged Fenris, while one man grabbed Hawke by the collar and started dragging him towards the edge of the dock. Hawke struggled weakly, but was mostly helpless to defend himself. Fenris growled and began fighting his way through the men, all fury and strength.
The loud commotion had drawn the attention of their other companions, all of whom came rushing to the scene. However, as they arrived, none of the men were left standing except Fenris and the man with a hold on Hawke. In an act of desperation, the man had drawn a dagger and was holding it to the mage’s throat. Hawke groaned and attempted to grab at the man’s hand, eventually able to grip his arm.
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll kill the champion,” the man shouted, his voice trembling slightly. Fenris’ eyes darted from the dagger back to Hawke, snarling.
“And who’s to say I won’t kill you first?” Fenris rumbled dangerously, tattoos shining brighter. He tightened his grip on his sword, tensing and readying to spring into action. Then, several things happened at once.
The man’s gaze strayed from Fenris and focused on something behind him. His eyes widened, and as an arrow flew past Fenris’ shoulder the man twisted his body and pushed Hawke into the water. Hawke fell back into the water with a splash, eyes wide with surprise. The arrow hit Hawke’s captor in the back of the shoulder, not enough to kill but enough to injure.
Fear immediately filled Fenris’ stomach as he dropped his sword and raced to the edge of the dock. Behind him, he heard Varric curse and a herd of footsteps following him. Before diving into the water, he heard the man’s voice call after him,
“I fucking warned you! I’d kill him! And I’ll kill the rest of you, too!”
Fenris didn’t stay above water long enough to see his friends swiftly end the man’s life.
Hawke was confused by all the noise and the feeling of the man dragging him across the wood, but he could have sworn that was Fenris. No one else glowed a bright blue, he reckoned. Realizing that help had come, he began to struggle, but his body was still not cooperating with him. Right before bringing him to the dock to wait for the ship they made him drink that mixture again. Hawke had put up a fight, and had a blooming bruise on his (likely dislocated) shoulder to show for it. After this was over, Hawke was never drinking again.
As cold steel pressed against his throat, however, he stilled, reaching up to grasp at the man’s arm. Fenris was standing in front of them, glowing a beautiful blue and looking slightly unhinged. He was covered in blood, and for a moment Hawke worried about how much of it was others’. The more he stared the more the colors swirled together, however, so he soon was trying to blink himself out of it. He didn’t quite catch the words being said around him, instead seeing Varric lift his crossbow and aiming directly for the man holding him hostage.
That doesn’t seem like a good idea, Hawke thought to himself before being suddenly flung backwards.
His blurry vision saw Fenris’ eyes widen in shock before he hit the cold water. The cold temperature immediately sucked the air out of his lungs as he flailed, desperate to get out of the water. He had never been a good swimmer, and having his hands bound didn’t help his chances. On the bright side, due to the shock of the cold water he felt the fog in his brain clearing. Small victories.
Hawke began to thrash in the cold water, tugging at his restraints and kicking in the water wildly. Despite his best efforts, however, he was still sinking. He lost some air when he was thrown in and needed to breathe in, now.
When something wrapped around his waist, he nearly panicked. He whipped around to attack whatever touched him, but he stopped short when he realized who it was. Fenris swam up towards the surface, Hawke in tow. Hawke tried to help swim, kicking his legs, but after accidentally kicking Fenris a few times he gave up. Hawke gasped in air as they hit the surface, some of the water getting in his mouth as Fenris paddled them towards the dock.
Still breathing heavily, Hawke curled in on himself as soon as his body hit solid ground. Immediately Fenris was on top of him, hands searching his body for injuries, questions tumbling out of his mouth, hair dripping water onto Hawke’s face. Hawke uncurled slightly and turned his body towards Fenris, seeking the warmth from his body.
“Are you alright?” Fenris asked, worry furrowing his brow. He swept his hand across Hawke’s forehead, moving his hair out of the way. He leaned in until their faces were mere inches apart.
“Better now,” Hawke attempted a grin. He shivered, and noticed that Fenris’ hands had a small tremble to them as well. That seemed to spur Fenris into action, who sat up and scanned the area for something to cut the rope with.
Soon his friends approached, and Fenris got off him just long enough for Isabela to cut the rope binding his hands. As soon as the rope was gone hands were back on him, propping him up and holding him there. Anders cast a healing spell on the both of them, the warmth of it stopping the slight tremble of Hawke’s shoulders. Oddly enough, it didn’t stop the small tremble in Fenris’ fingertips where they gripped Hawke on the arm. The ache in his wrists disappeared along with the throbbing of old bruises. Puppy pushed his head under Hawke’s hand, pressing himself against Hawke’s wet legs.
“Good boy,” Hawke praised his mabari quietly, scratching him behind his ear. Puppy licked his hand happily.
“And what exactly made you think that was a good idea?” Fenris said, voice hard. Hawke was confused for a second until he realized he wasn’t talking to him.
“Trying to save my friends life!” Varric exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air, “He was going to cut Hawke’s throat, I had to do something.”
“Yes, and what you did almost got him killed anyways,” Fenris all but snarled, clutching Hawke closer to him. It took a minute for Hawke to figure out what the hell they were even talking about.
“Listen, broody, I guarantee you that if you had stepped any closer he would have slit Hawke’s throat, that wasn’t the face of a man who’s bluffing. I had to do something,” Varric explained tiredly. Isabela opened her mouth to add something, but Hawke spoke before she could.
“Fen,” Hawke started, voice slow, “Listen. Varric was just trying to help. Don’t be mean.”
Fenris grumbled but was otherwise quiet. Hawke took this as a victory and smiled, leaning more heavily onto the elf.
“Good. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a nap. I think I’ve been through an ordeal.”
Ignoring the protests from everyone around him, Hawke closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep, feeling comfortable and safe in Fenris’ arms.
Hawke woke up in his bed. He could feel the magic coursing through his veins again, and basked in the feeling for a moment.
Hawke opened his eyes and glanced around the room. It looked like it was night time, his room was dark. Fenris was resting on the side of his bed, sitting in a chair with his head laying on his arms in the bed. A quick glance around the room confirmed no one else was there. Hawke was also clean now, any blood falling into the water hadn’t washed off was gone now. Feeling the back of his head tentatively, Hawke also confirmed that his head wound was gone.
The weight on the side of the bed shifted as Hawke’s constant moving woke Fenris up. He blinked up at Hawke blearily, before realizing where he was and sitting up straight. Immediately, he half crawled into Hawke’s bed, hands on either side of his face.
“You’re awake! Are you alright?” Fenris asked, now nearly in his lap. Hawke was too stunned to answer for a moment, just staring back into Fenris’ worried eyes.
“Of course I am,” Hawke replied finally, lifting his own hands to grip Fenris’ and gently guide them off his face and into his lap.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Fenris warned, grip on Hawke’s hands tightening.
“Which part, the kidnapping or the near drowning?” Hawke quipped, returning the pressure in his hands with a reassuring squeeze. At this point Fenris had completely climbed into his bed.
“Both,” Fenris grumbled, scowling, “Hawke, I...”
He trailed off after that, but Hawke patiently waited for him to finish his sentence, content to just sit there with their hands entwined. Fenris seemed to debate what he was about to say, then slowly continued.
“When I saw your mabari, I feared the worst. I thought...” Fenris trailed off again, face scrunched up as he tried to find the words he needed, “I thought I may never see you again. Hawke, I need to tell you, I-“
Hawke cut him off with a hand over his mouth, a little terrified of the words that may come out next. He kept his eyes off Fenris, instead looking at the wall behind him. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to forgive Fenris just yet, to get over the hurt from that night so many years ago. To allow Fenris the opportunity to do it again.
Fenris pulled Hawke’s hand off with a frustrated growl, “How am I supposed to make up with you if you won’t allow me to speak?”
“Fenris, maybe in the heat of the moment, you were afraid of losing me, you might just-“
“Don’t tell me how I feel, Hawke,” Fenris hissed, “You don’t know how I feel at all. This isn’t a new development, Hawke. I’ve always regretted leaving. It just reminded me too much of-“
“And if we try again? And it happens again? What then?” Hawke cut him off again, still not making eye contact. This was somehow worse than when he had been kidnapped. At least then he’d been high out of his mind.
“So we don’t even try?” Fenris asked with a frustrated growl. Hawke paused and finally looked at Fenris again, considering. Considering, but terrified.
“Hawke, today may have been. Enlightening. On, um. How much you mean to me. But that doesn’t mean that you haven’t always meant that much to me. It just means it took a while to realize,” Fenris said, slowly and awkwardly. Their hands were still clasped. After a long moment, Hawke let out a breath.
“Yeah, okay,” Hawke said finally, hands trembling slightly, “Okay. Let’s try again, slowly.”
Fenris was already leaning in before Hawke finished talking, pressing his lips to Hawke’s in a caste kiss before pulling away.
“Okay,” he said, grinning, “Slowly.”
Ah, Hawke thought, suddenly struck with emotions, filling him with love and a tentative hope for the future. He leaned in and kissed Fenris again, hand coming up to cup the back of his head.
I missed this.