Chapter Text
Fire crackling in it's spot along the wall was the only sound in your room, save for the two of you panting. A night of passion, held off for long enough, had finally transpired. Fenris had thought about you just as much as you had he.
You had thought all was well. Until he pulled away, leaving you alone.
"I can't do this. This was a mistake." Fenris said, rising up from your bed.
Suddenly, any warmth you had from your joining left you in a rush. You felt cold and exposed. Shame crawled its way up your back and settled as a weight on your chest.
You gathered the sheets around you.
Something must have changed in your expression, because he looked pained. Not for his words being spoken, but how it clearly hurt you.
He opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut and turned his face down. Eyes squeezed tight. The silence in the air was thick, you were still at a loss for words.
Finally he broke it by taking a sharp breath.
His gorgeous eyes that you had grown to associate with comfort opened and locked with yours, "I'm sorry, I've got to go. I can't be here right now, not with everything so close."
He groaned, and turned on his heel, collecting and equipping his clothes by the door.
You were still silent when he opened and disappeared through it. A soft click resonated through the room, the only other sound being your heartbeat and the crackling of the fireplace.
He didn't look back.
You sat awkwardly, shocked and blinking slowly. Dumbly just staring at the door he exited from, as if he would come back and explain. Or come back and apologize. Or just plainly come back.
After a while, long enough the fireplace had died down to just embers, you gave up. Stiffly, you changed into your bed clothes and went into a fitful sleep for the remainder of the night. The room was cold, and you could still feel the warmth of where he had been with you.
~~
The next day, you were unlocking the front door to his mansion when you realized you probably needed to have a clearer mindset when next speaking to him. So, you slipped back the key around your key holder and left to make your usual rounds.
Your wandering led you to the Hanged Man, just as a loud cry from within knocked you out of your lack of thought. You edged cautiously in… and then rolled your eyes with a huff as you saw Varric smugly raking in a stack of coins from a crowded game of cards.
The stereotypical drunk patron let out a cry as he threw down the cards, clearly having just failed to go all in. He fell back into his seat and set his head down in defeat. Watching on in amusement, you briefly forgot what you were avoiding. Instead, you just leaned against the wall and watched the group all haphazardly play their game of chance. Surprising was the absence of Isabella in the room, as she could usually smell out a good game, but you knew she frequented other spots in Lowtown and the Docks.
Varric seemed to have the best hand, and since you were watching him rather intensely, you knew he wasn't cheating. Granted, the fact that he was one of the only ones at the table not drunk off their asses, it wasn't surprising he was doing so well.
After a few more hands, and just as you're about to order a cider, Varric finally spotted you. He looked at you in confusion, a look that you yourself returned.
After a moment he glanced around to the group and swept his arms wide, "Well my friends, it seems like the time has come," he dragged the coin stack he'd won into his cloth purse, "I simply must stop taking all your money! Maker knows that some mercy must be shown to this lovely lot."
There was a chorus of various drunken responses, all of which Varric ignored in favor of gesturing for you to follow him. He was already up the stairs and in his room when you started after him.
You wracked your brain, unsure if something had happened between the two of you.
Entering into his room you saw he had already taken his seat, as one of the serving girls finished setting down your order. As she passed you, you nodded your thanks. She giggled and left the two of you alone.
You took your seat with a cider in front of it. Looking at Varric, he had gone from gazing at you in confusion to concern.
"Hey, Hawke," he started gently, as one might with a scared nug. A sign something was clearly wrong. "How are you holding up?"
You quirked your eyebrow, "Fine? Why, am I supposed to not be?"
Varric avoided the question and instead took a long drink, keeping eye contact with you as though you might bolt. After he sat it back down, he was still gazing at you with an odd expression.
You held the stare.
He relented, sighing. "It's just that Broody came through a while ago and said his round of farewells, so I kind of assumed you might be taking it a bit hard."
You blinked. "Farewells? Why?"
Varric shrugged, "He said something about going to find himself. Isabela went with him to help secure him passage on a good- shit! Wait, Hawke!"
You were already flying out his door and down the steps- nearly barreling over a waitress in the process- before he had even finished. His cries fell on deaf ears as the door to the Hanged Man was creeping open, and you slammed it back the rest of the way. You knocked over whoever was on the other side in the process, and they yelled curses at you as you hurried down the street towards the Docks.
You had made it all the way past the entrance to the Quinari stronghold when you spotted Isabela chatting up one of the workers on his break. As you made a beeline for her, she took notice and her eyes widened. Waving away the worker, she met you halfway.
You were panting when you neared, and she grabbed your forearms in a comforting hold to steady you. You tried to get your words out, but running had never been your strong suit.
Luckily she wasn't dull, and knew why you were there in such a state of panic.
She shook her head and squeezed your arms, "Lovely, he's already gone."
The wind left you, and you were lost.
"Where?" you managed to grind out.
Isabella pursed her lips.
“Somewhere in Ferelden. And even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. It’s not healthy, love,” she knitted her eyebrows together, something clicking in her head “Did he not tell you he was leaving?”
You shook your head, which was swimming by now. The world around you had become silent, a ringing overtaking it all.
Isabela was suddenly the only reason you weren’t on your knees.
“So he’s gone, then,” your voice was hollow.
Isabela pulled you into a hug. She knew the pair of you were becoming quite a spectacle, but didn’t care. You trembled in her hold, and closed your eyes. You will overcome this.
But now?
In Isabela’s arms you wept openly, you didn’t have to be strong right now.
~~
Or sane, it turns out.
For the next month, you were in clear denial.
Nothing felt real. You faced down the Arishock, refusing to give him Isabela-even if she had initially tried to abandon you.
With a storm of lightning and fire, he fell at your feet, and you finished him with a clean sweep of your blade. Every person around you erupted into cheers and applause, yet it just phased straight through you. You were far too preoccupied with cleaning Fenris’s mansion to give any thought to your newly bestowed title: Champion of Kirkwall.
After all, you reasoned, when he came back he shouldn't be living in squalor as he had been previously. There would be the added benefit of the neighboring nobles and elite no longer minding his presence, and Aveline wouldn’t have any further fairly valid complaints.
After getting the main section of the mansion cleaned, new tile laid, and the bushes out front pruned and trimmed- you were starting to come to terms with the facts:
1)He was not going to be coming back any time soon.
And
2)Your last conversation couldn’t be interpreted any other way than him ending things between the two of you.
Fixing the mansion then became more of something to do with your hands when being the Champion was too much.
Everything was starting to look up, after only two months of him leaving.
~~
Then a psychopathic mage kidnapped and mutilated your mother.
Whatever string of wellbeing your mind had been knitting was cut loose as you held her. She looked up at you with such love and desperate hope, told you everything you had ever dreamed of her saying to you… and died.
It was all you could do, to just stare at this amalgamation of a body with your mother’s head sewn on.
Your grip on her was tight enough that when one of your compatriots- Varric maybe, you didn’t see- tried to take her, you wouldn’t release your hold. Couldn't let her go. Not like this.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you became all too aware she was very much dead and not coming back. Never will you see her hide her smile at your dog’s antics, or hear her chastise (with no malice) your friends for being a nuisance. No longer would you find her in her room lovingly braiding Orana's hair, commenting on how she missed doing this to her daughter. She wouldn't be there to worriedly look at your bandages after a bandit raid, or have her gossip about what she learnt at the latest party. Most damning was you'd never hear her say from another room she was proud of you, her Champion.
Your mother’s eyes, listless and blank- the last thing you saw. You vaguely registered collapsing to the ground, a symphony of worried cries ringing out.
You knew your eyes were open, yet the mess of colors and shadows weren’t registering as anything tangible. Distantly you felt a Fade-tipped cooling sensation on your forehead, before your mind took pity on you. Colors faded, and you were forced into a dreamless sleep.