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Fenris shot up in a cold sweat, his mind reeling for several seconds before he began to register the walls of the tent around him. He glanced to the bedroll beside his where Hawke was curled up asleep, snoring soundly and drooling on himself. Fenris huffed a small laugh through his nose; oh how he had missed this ridiculous man.
Though the sight of Hawke resting peacefully, likely dreaming of being a dragon or some such nonsense, had calmed his nerves his bones still ached with a weary sort of restlessness. With care he extracted himself from the blankets and stood, silently making his way from the tent. The dying embers of their fire laid a faint orange halo across the camp, though his elven eyes could see far even without the light. He took a glance toward the second tent where the younger Hawke slept content that he was quiet enough not to wake Carver and be mistaken for an intruder.
His sleep had been haunted since leaving Skyhold. The pathway to the Nightmare's realm appeared to have remained open to him and the vengeful creature was putting it to great use. Dreams plagued him each night, it showed him his worst memories both as Fenris and as Leto, it weaved elaborate scenarios that played out all the most terrible things he had ever feared. Every night it made him watch Hawke die slowly and in pain while he was helpless to stop it.
But they were only dreams. His waking, rational mind knew the wretched thing no longer had any way to tangibly harm him. This was the petty lashing out of a once proud creature that had been resoundly thwarted. And as Hawke appeared unaffected by the beast’s nocturnal assaults Fenris hadn’t bothered to bring it up to him.
"Even in sleep you guard him, a loyal wolf through and through."
He whirled toward the voice that had spoken, seemingly loud and sudden against the faint din of night creatures. Sitting on a log by the remains of the fire, one knee drawn up with his hands elegantly clasped around it, was a very familiar elf. Sharp grey-violet eyes regarded Fenris with amusement, much in the way an elder would a naive and wild youth.
"You. I met you in... that place," Fenris murmured uncertainly.
The bald elf smiled serenely in return, yet his affectionate gaze still could not mask his primal nature, "Yes."
Fenris crossed his arms as he leveled a glare at his unwelcome guest, "Will you tell me your name this time?"
"Fen'harel", the stranger replied
Fenris scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Your real name?"
The other elf chuckled and smiled his infuriatingly mysterious smile, "Solas."
The name struck Fenris as vaguely familiar but he found himself unable to place it. Instead he asked, "What is it that you want, Solas?"
"Many things. But from you?” here there was a pause, an appraising look, “Nothing in particular. I happened to be in the area and saw that you were here. And with the man you sought, no less. I trust everything turned out well?"
Fenris narrowed his eyes in suspicion, "And how would you know it is he whom I sought?"
"Is it not obvious? Your devotion is unmistakable, who else could he be but the one you braved the Fade to find?"
Fenris shifted his weight, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the scrutiny of those ageless eyes. Unconsciously he lowered his own gaze, unknowingly bowing his head in the presence of a powerful mage.
"You have the look of one accustomed to duty and servility, yet you use this experience now to show your freely given affection,” Solas observed in an almost clinical manner.
"Enough," said Fenris sharply, lifting his head and locking eyes with his fellow predator.
Solas stood, nodding toward the tent where Hawke slept as he began to walk in a slow circle around Fenris, “You harbor a deep distrust of mages, do you not? I could sense it when you first looked upon me. Being of Tevinter I can imagine the abuses you’ve survived.”
Fenris turned with the other elf, never taking his gaze from him, hands clenched at his sides. A light breeze through the treetops only fed the tension in the air, two wolves in a challenge, each unsure if the other was about to go for the throat.
“And yet you love this mage,” Solas continued with a weary smile on his face, “He alone has shaken your conviction of what you thought you knew. The truth you have carefully maintained in your mind in order to do what you must.”
“I have not changed my mind about the danger of mages. They are especially susceptible to corruption, to exerting their power over others, uncaring of who they will crush for their own ends," Fenris’ voice was nearly a growl, and Solas regarded him with a curious expression before averting his gaze.
“Indeed,” the elder elf replied, “But not Hawke?”
“Not Hawke,” Fenris agreed.
Solas had ceased in his prowling and the two instead stood in the still of the night staring each other down. Finally Solas nodded his head and said, “Thank you. I wish you happiness.”
Fenris blinked in confusion, but in that instant the sound of wolves howling in the distance pierced the quiet and his head instinctively whipped toward it. When the mournful cries died away, swallowed up by the shifting of the trees, he quickly turned back to Solas, only to find that the strange mage was gone.
“Who’re you talking to?”
Fenris saw Hawke stumbling out of their tent, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. Whatever he thought of the inherent corruptibility of mages it all seemed to ebb away when he looked upon this mage, this man. This man who lived through hardship, loss and withstood torment by one of the most foul beings of the Fade only to come out kinder. This mage without conceit who frequently made terrible jokes and had no fear of appearing foolish, who would abandon his last shred of dignity if it meant cheering up a friend.
So caught up was he in his musings Fenris nearly forgot to respond, “I… no one.”
Hawke smiled as he approached him, unconcerned. How often had he caught those sharp eyes quietly watching him? Their depths full of ghosts and pain Hawke would never fully understand, but the wounded mind behind them had long since begun to mend. He slowly ran a hand down the side of his lover’s face, and Fenris leaned into it. After all these years and even with everything that had happened he was still amazed that the once skitterish wolf no longer shied away from his touch.
“Were you sleep walking?” Hawke asked with a laugh.
Fenris appeared to seriously contemplate the question for some time, “Perhaps.”
He then quite unexpectedly moved forward and pressed himself to Hawke, shaping himself to the other man’s body and wrapping his arms tightly around him. Hawke tilted his head curiously for a moment before returning the gesture, draping his arms around the elf and giving him a gentle squeeze.
“Let’s go back to bed,” Hawke suggested. Fenris nodded, sliding his hand into Hawke’s as they drew apart. Fingers clasped together they walked back to the tent and ducked inside.