Archive of Our Own

The guitar case was heavy in his hand, pulling against his flesh, making his arm ache up to his shoulder. The hard plastic thing bounced against his legs with each step, threatening at any moment to collide into his bum knee the wrong way and send him toppling over. By comparison, the soft and worn canvas sack resting against his opposite hip hardly moved at all and seemed to serve as a counter-balance of sorts for the heavy case. It’d been five years since he left Kirkwall and everything that he knew behind. While the exterior scenery proved unchanged by time, the feel of the city, the atmosphere around him felt charged and new. Either Kirkwall was different, or he was.

He cut through the familiar back alleys and side streets he knew so well from the adventures he’d had before circumstance took him away. Coils of anticipation, but also dread curled in his belly as each boot-thudding step he took propelled him closer and closer to his goal. He could hear the music of the bar before he could see it and his lips curled upwards unconsciously as he recognized the dulcet tones of Isabela’s alto serenading the crowd at The Hanged Man. He didn’t recognize the song, but five years was a long time to write new music.

As he cut the final corner, The Hanged Man loomed into his view. The shitty little bar hadn’t changed a single brick in the time that’d been gone. With a breath, he hitched his guitar case up a little higher and pushed open the door. The dulled music blasted into him as soon as he opened the door, as if he’d opened up a bubble and stepped inside. From the entrance he could see Isabela on stage, white dress cut up to her hip bones and, surprisingly enough, a pirate hat perched on top of her head. But, he knew better than to ask questions about his friend’s performances. He stayed in the back, lurking in the shadows as he watched her shimmy to the guitar solo. She swayed her hips back and forth, a beautiful smile crossing her face. She’d always been a natural performer, he could recall. She wasn’t the sort of woman to do something if she didn’t have an audience present. All at once she looked up and locked eyes with him. Her face lit up with recognition as she grabbed the microphone stand by the blue scarf she’d tied around it.

“Everyone, I have a little surprise for you. Make some noise because back tonight after a five-year hiatus, all you regulars know him and love him…it’s,” she paused for dramatic effect. Then, flinging her free arm out towards him, she cried, “It’s Fenris!”

The crowd turned to him and broke out into thunderous applause, whether or not they were applauding him or just doing as Isabela told them, he wasn’t sure. Still, a he could feel his cheeks rushing with heat as he ran a hand through the stringy white locks of his hair nervously. Isabela grinned wickedly and jumped back into the song, bouncing on the balls of her feet to the beat of the music. He made a mental note to thank Isabela for making what he had hoped to be a subtle return into a circus. As he stood there trying to figure out what to do next, Fenris was suddenly stricken with the feeling that someone was watching him. He turned his head and found himself staring into the wrong pair of blue eyes. A dark brow narrowed as a meaty fist shot out at him to wave him over. Fenris obliged even as a curl of hesitation slipped up his spine.

“What are you doing here, man?”

“Hello Carver.”

Carver huffed, spreading his hands across the bar and leaning over in what Fenris had to guess was an attempt to look intimidating. On any other patron, the sight of the six-foot-seven-inch Carver Hawke - whose biceps looked like he worked out with beer kegs instead of weights - glowering would have been intimidating. But, Fenris had seen Carver as ‘the little brother’ for too many years for him to ever be affected by the younger man’s scowl.

“Don’t ‘hello’ me. What are you doing here?”

“I am returning to Kirkwall. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Maybe I do,” Carver ground out through clenched teeth.

Fenris’s eyes narrowed. He’d expected a somewhat frosty reunion, but hadn’t expected anyone to be outright hostile towards him. “Is this because of Haw-”

“And here I was thinking that Isabela was just bullshitting,” a gruff voice interrupted from behind him.

Fenris looked over his shoulder. “Varric.”

“Been a long time, man.”

“Too long,” Carver interjected gruffly. “He doesn’t even know about-”

“Shh, Junior,” Varric hushed, flashing Carver a pointed look.

“What am I missing here?”

Varric waved his hands about vaguely. “Nothing, man.”

The conversation faltered as Fenris sized the two men up. Clearly, they were keeping something from him and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it had to do with Marian Hawke.

“So, what brings you back?”

“I am returning…permanently,” Fenris explained, eyes darting away from Varric’s searching gaze.

“Oh. Shit, okay; well, welcome back.” Varric cleared his throat. “If you want to go back to performing, Isabela could really use the break.”

“What about Hawke?”

Carver scoffed, earning him another glare from Varric. “She’s uh, busy these days. So, you got a place to stay or do I need to put you up for the night?”

Fenris looked back and forth between the two men, green eyes narrowed as he attempted to puzzle out the mystery between them. Finally, hesitantly, he answered: “yes. I sublet my place but didn’t have a chance to tell Sebastian that I’d like the apartment back.”

Varric smirked as he scratched at the stubble on his chin with thick, ring-clad fingers. “Just like old times; still got the cot in the storeroom, if you want that. Or, I got a spare bedroom. Take your pick.”

“The cot,” he replied too quickly. The idea of staying in Varric’s apartment - as nice as it was - filled his belly with dread. Swallowing and lowering his gaze, he added, “just for old time’s sake.”

Someone solid, but soft, snaked their arms around his waist and pressed soft lips against his cheek, causing him to stiffen and twist away. A deep laugh echoed behind him as he whirled around to see Isabela, standing akimbo behind him. “Oof, look at the big bad wolf coming back to our little neck of the woods!”

“Isabela.”

She threw her head back and laughed deeply, causing the ornate golden loops hanging from ears to jingle together. “I hope you’ve come back to delight us all with your musical styling. As much as I do so love an audience, even I need a break from time to time.”

“That’s the plan, Rivaini.”

“Great show, Isabela,” Carver offered. His voice wavered ever so slightly over her name, forcing a small snort from Fenris's nose; Carver's crush, it seemed, was still in full swing.

Isabela turned towards him, eyes narrowing like a cat that’d just found her canary. She licked her lips and pushed past Varric to lean on the bar in front of Carver. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“Y-yeah.”

She smiled, leaning forward just enough to give Carver a show of her cleavage, causing Varric to groan inwardly and shake his head. She continued, “You wanna buy me a drink, little Hawke?”

Varric caught Fenris’s gaze and gestured for him to follow. Fenris pulled the hard plastic case into his sore hand and tried to sneak past Isabela’s predatory notice. Once they were out of earshot, Varric sighed heavily. “One of these days, I think Junior’s just going to implode from The Rivaini’s teasing.”

“It is nice to know some things never change,” Fenris offered, chuckling a little under his breath.

. . .

He sipped on a glass of club soda and lemon as he waited for the bar to close and quiet for the night. Though he was in the back rooms and far away from the action of the stage, the rhythmic thumping of the bass vibrated all around him. In a weird sort of way, the noise was relaxing. It was a familiar feeling, being stuck in the back room on the rickety old cot; it felt like coming home.

Home; the thought of such a thing sent little niggling fingers of sensation, neither painful nor pleasurable, through Fenris’s veins. Before, home had always been a battlefield. Mother was part of that home, Varania was part of that home…Danarius was part of that home. The thought of his stepfather sent a subconscious chill down his spine and without thinking; his left hand traveled to his right forearm, rubbing against the thick, scarred line on his arm. The tattoos hid the scars, both the emotional and the physical. What had started off as a simple ‘interesting design’ on his arm had quickly overtaken his entire body and while he knew he had made the decision to have such extensive work done on his body…he couldn’t really remember that period of his life. If he was honest with himself, much of his life before he came to Kirkwall was a blur of police lights, ice clinking in glasses and mournful songs on his guitar.

The thudding bass stopped as he set his glass down to reach for the guitar. He snapped the hard plastic case open and let his fingers drift reverently down the neck of his Fender. Picking up the instrument was like picking up a part of him, another limb that got separated at birth. Clearing his throat, he pressed his fingers against the strings on the fret board and strummed twice with his bare fingers before reaching into the case to pull out a pick. His mind cleared, shoulders unburdened themselves as he started sweeping the pick across the strings, not really playing anything. After a minute, Fenris found his fingers began to form familiar tunes, half-bits of songs that he’d started but never finished until finally Her song started drifting out of his fingers. It’d taken him a broken heart and five years to finish it. When the final note hit him, he’d known it was time to come back to Kirkwall.

As he picked the final notes, a soft voice called out to him, “that’s beautiful. Is it for her?”

He didn’t need to look up to know who was speaking, but he did anyway. “Hello, Bethany.”

“Carver said you were here.”

He grunted noncommittally in response.

“A lot has changed while you were gone.”

Fenris sighed, putting the guitar safely back in its case as Bethany moved out of the doorway to sit next to him. After the silence began to stretch too thin, he answered: “so I have heard.”

“Mother died.”

He shifted, turning to face her fully and studied her face. Her pretty features were relaxed; as if she had only told him about the weather he’d missed. “Are you…all right?”

“Yeah. She’s…at peace and she’s with our brother Garrett and father. If you believe in that sort of thing.”

The conversation faltered between them, though Fenris was certain all of the awkwardness lay entirely on his side. Leandra Hawke was a touchy subject with all of the Hawke children; even speaking of their deceased brother was an easier subject to bring up than the Hawke matriarch. He shifted again, uncomfortably and suddenly forgot what he should be doing with his hands. He settled for placing them on his knees, forearms flexing and making the white lines of his tattoos wriggle a little as the muscles moved beneath his skin.

“Marian doesn’t know you’re here yet,” Bethany announced.

“I’m surprised Carver didn’t text her the moment he saw me.”

Bethany giggled. “Actually, it was me he texted.”

“So, are you going to tell her I’m in Kirkwall?”

Bethany glanced at him, lips pursed as if in thought. “I think you should tell her that you’re here.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “I doubt that Hawke even wants to see me again.”

“You two are so daft,” she sighed. “Look, if it was reversed, wouldn’t you rather hear it from my sister than from someone like Varric?”

She opened her mouth to add more when Fenris held up his hand to silence her. “Point taken, Bethany. I will do my best to find her before the gossip does. All right?”

Her face bloomed into a bright smile as she reached across the space between them to gently pat his knee. “All right. I’ve said my piece. Now I’m going to grab Carver and leave you here to this creepy place, all night…by yourself.” She made a sound, somewhere between a sigh and a huff but with none of the emotion behind it. “Why don’t you stay in Varric’s spare room? It’s so nice there. I’ll even drop you off if you didn’t want to walk.”

Fenris’s lips curled into a small smile as he shrugged once. “I like it here. Y’know how many nights I’ve slept here?”

“A lot, I know. It’s just…so-”

“Lonely?” he offered.

“Gross,” she finished, nose wrinkling. She waved her hands in the air vaguely, as if clearing some invisible force from before her. “Anyway, it’s a long drive to Hightown and Carver is probably getting impatient. So, I guess I’ll go.”

She turned to leave but paused in the doorway, gripping the wooden frame in her small hands. She turned back towards him and smiled her brightest smile, “it’s good to see you again, Fenris.”

Bethany didn’t wait for him to respond before she disappeared from sight. Even after she left, Fenris found the corners of his mouth wouldn’t quite go down. Such was the effect of the youngest Hawke. Even in his darkest moments, the girl Varric called ‘Sunshine’ had been able to coax a smile out of him. He picked the guitar up again, positioning the instrument on his knee. He strummed a few more times, humming softly to himself. Fenris reached for his canvas bag and opened the flap to retrieve a small stack of mis-matched papers. He arranged them in front of himself and slowly began to play the same song again, her song. As the words tripped out over his tongue, memories danced before his eyes. A girl with black hair and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen grinned lopsidedly at him from across the crowded bar. He’d been nothing then, just a guy who’d run from his problems when they got too hard to bear. She was the girl with the killer voice who needed a guitar to back her up and even when she could have picked anyone, she still chose him.

The same could have been said later on, after the late night performances and the evenings when they’d drunk too much to do anything but fall into a pile like puppies on the cot in the back of The Hanged Man. Marian could have had her pick of anyone in Kirkwall, probably anyone in their band and she still chose him. She loved him, he knew; she certainly told him often enough. When she asked if he loved her, things became tricky. Love was a fist, an open palm across a cheek or the clink of ice melting in a glass; it was Danarius buying Mother flowers, Varania a new car and trying to buy Fenris a twelve thousand dollar Les Paul. Marian was warmth, the warm glow of sunlight on wooden floors and the energy of a crowd screaming their names. His mind couldn’t put the two images together, couldn’t separate the difference between the love he knew and the love he was learning. It was too much.

He cursed under his breath and stopped playing. With a sigh, he leaned over the guitar to the discarded jacket on the floor. It took a little maneuvering, but he was able to pull a worn Polaroid from the inside pocket. The edges were creased and the color was fading, but he still smiled as he looked down into Marian’s beautiful face. The photograph had traveled with him, a little piece to keep him grounded as he searched for the answers to questions he didn’t know how to ask. Five years later and he thought he knew the questions. The answers, however, he was still searching. Perhaps there were no answers to be found.

The air around him stilled to nothing, as if the world itself had frozen just for him as he stared down at Hawke’s smiling face. He had never imagined himself worthy of her, of a woman who was the human equivalent of a shooting star. Yet, he couldn’t imagine his life without her. Later that evening, after he’d put the guitar back in its case and rolled on to his side, he put Hawke's picture on the pillow next to him and fell asleep.

. . .

Something solid collided with his side, jerking Fenris out of his sleep. Anders, a longtime member of their group but no friend to Fenris, glowered down at him. Evidently, the solid thing that had crashed into his ribcage had been Anders’ fine Antivan loafer.

“I heard you were back but I thought it was just a bad joke.”

“Anders,” Fenris groaned, wiping at his tired eyes. He took his time gingerly rolling over so that he was seated on the bed before he looked up at the intruder. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Don’t get cute with me,” Anders hissed. “I want to know what your intentions are.”

“I assure you, it is much too early for me to be cute.”

Fenris’s bones creaked as he gingerly rose to his feet. Though he was still young enough, he’d entered that stage of life where he could feel the tiny changes of his body beginning to age. He sighed, stretching as he continued to ignore Ander’s ever-growing glare. It was a foolish question and not one he was keen on deigning with an answer. There was a piece missing to the puzzle in front of him. While he knew and ultimately understood their friend’s need to protect Hawke, after all he knew from the voicemails and texts she left him that he had hurt her, it seemed as if their protection had turned rather militant.

Fenris rolled his eyes. “It was time to return, that’s all. Not that it’s any business of yours, mind you.”

“It’s my business as far as Hawke is concerned.”

“Oh? Did you and Hawke marry while I was gone?” Fenris snorted, bending down to pick up a discarded sock. He perched on the edge of the cot, swinging one long leg over the over and pulled the thick cotton over his feet, all while pointedly ignoring the man standing in front of him. “I wasn’t aware that Hawke needed a keeper.”

Anders scoffed. “You really have no idea, do you?”

That captured Fenris’s attention. His green eyes snapped upwards, brow furrowing in annoyance. “Everyone keeps alluding to something without bothering to tell me what it is I’m supposed to have been aware of.”

Smirking and clearly pleased with himself, Anders simply crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not my secret to tell.” He paused, glancing at the silver watcher on his wrist. “Well, as thrilling as this has been, I must be going.”

“Varric having you open up early?”

“No, I stopped bartending when I finished my training. You’re looking at the highest rated Veterinarian in Kirkwall,” he announced. “What is it you’ve done for the last five years, Fenris?”

He left the question hanging in the open air and turned, chuckling at his own barb. Fenris didn’t bother to watch him leave. Instead, he retrieved the rest of his discarded clothes and shuffled out of the backroom towards the bar. On the counter, he found a bag of coffee beans and a note from Varric telling him where the coffee maker was. After murmuring a quick prayer of thanks to the Maker for putting a saint like Varric on to the earth, Fenris busied himself making the coffee. He was so focused on measuring out the beans and the water, he barely registered the front door of the bar opening. It wasn’t until he had prickling sensation along his skin, like he was being watched, that he looked up. Green met blue as he locked eyes with Marian.

Her name came tumbling out of his shocked lips before he could stop himself. She said nothing, just stood and gaped at him. The light from the open door cascaded around her, framing her beautiful face with the rays of the sun. She looked entirely the same and yet completely different. She’d chopped her long hair off, he noticed first. She looked fuller, healthier than the last time he’d seen her.

“Fenris,” she whispered.

“Hawke,” he repeated. “Hello.”

Her lips parted, but as she moved to speak something collided with her back. Hawke stumbled forward just as Fenris heard a small voice cry out:

“Mama!”

The world around him slowed to a crawl as Fenris made his way around the bar. Staring up at Hawke was a little girl with jet-black hair. His eyes snapped back and forth between the child and Hawke, slowly it dawned on him that the child had indeed called Hawke ‘mother’.

“You…you have a child,” he murmured.

“Yes,” she answered, voice soft. Her eyes were blown wide, staring at him as a frightened animal might look at a predator.

A moment later a second person appeared in the doorway, a man Fenris immediately recognized as Donnic Hendyr. Donnic had been an acquaintance of theirs, mostly through their friend Aveline’s work. The door closed fully behind him, canceling out all of the warm glow from the sun’s rays. The bar felt stale, artificial in the light of the bulbs overhead.

Donnic smiled apologetically at Hawke. “Sorry, she got away from me.” Just then, Donnic looked in his direction. A wide grin broke out on to the man’s face as he reached to shake Fenris’s hand. “Fenris! It’s good to see you. Are you back?”

Fenris glanced back and forth between the child currently clinging to Hawke’s leg and Donnic. All became clear. Ice traveled through his veins as his stomach threatened to spill its contents all at once. Hawke had moved on, on to Donnic and an entirely new life.

“Mama, that man has lines all over him,” the girl whispered loudly, interrupting Fenris’s spiraling thoughts. Her bright green eyes stayed locked on him like he was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen.

“Those are tattoos,” Donnic corrected.

Hawke cleared her throat. “Fenris, this is Garrett…my daughter. Garrett, this is Fenris.”

“I’m named after my Uncle who died before I was born,” she announced. “Why do you have so many tattoos?”

Fenris blinked. “I, uh, just do.”

“Okay. My Mommy has a tattoo! It’s my Daddy’s name. She keeps it on her wrist.”

“Garrett!” Hawke chastised, her cheeks turning pink.

Fenris wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or throw up. It wasn’t a an exaggeration for him to say that he knew every inch of Marian Hawke’s body and for the entire time he knew her, there had been no tattoo on her wrist. In his mind he could picture Donnic’s name scrawled there when really it should have been…

It should have been his.

Donnic cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, we have an appointment to keep.”

Hawke started. “Of course, I completely forgot. Would you take her to the car? I need to speak to Fenris for a moment.”

“Sure. Come on, little Hawke.” Donnic bent towards little Garrett and held out his hand for her. She took it, still looking up at Fenris with a grin spread across her cheeks.

“Goodbye Mr. Fenris!” the girl called as Donnic pulled her from the bar.

Silence fell between them, heavy and full like suffocation. Neither of them spoke to the other and neither of them able to meet each other’s gaze. Fenris was equal measures despair and rage; he’d come back to Kirkwall for Hawke and in hindsight, he had to suppose it was foolish of him to believe that a woman such as Hawke would wait for him for five years. Yet, part of him…the worst part of him, the side of himself that had been coaxed and shaped by Danarius’s rule wanted to scream and yell at Marian for what felt like a betrayal. If he’d known the truth all along, he might not have even bothered to return to Kirkwall. The wolf that lurked beneath his skin howled a mournful cry.

“I understand now, why Varric said you weren’t performing anymore.”

She breathed, as if trying to laugh without sound or feeling. “That and I lost my guitarist.”

“I imagine you could replace him. You seem to have done so in other areas.”

She blinked, blue eyes darkening as she furrowed her brow. “So that’s it then? You think that even though you left me without a single word five years ago that I’d, what, not have lived my life?”

“I didn’t expect you to have started a family! You could have told me.”

She scoffed. “How?”

He didn’t have an answer for her, of course. He’d thrown his phone into the sea after he’d left the Free Marches and didn’t bother to reach out to any of them. The wolf lurking beneath his skin stirred and without realizing it, Fenris found himself clenching and unclenching his fists; he ground his teeth together. It was his own fault. He’d lost her.

. . .

When Fenris was finally able to move back in to his apartment officially, he found himself almost overwhelmed by the amount of space he had to himself. On his travels, he was lucky to have found a bed inside of a hostel, let alone an entirely private room. He spent many nights sleeping in whatever warm spot he could find, whether that be a car he’d rented or bus station bench. Now the apartment might as well have been as big as Danarius’s mansion back in Minrathous. Thinking of the house he grew up in sent a shiver down his spine. Tension gnawed at him, like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. To be alone with his thoughts in a place that drew out the worst of his memories was like crawling through a desert only to be greeted with a glass of salt water.

His relief was palpable when someone knocked hesitantly at his door. Through the peephole, he saw Bethany biting her lip and shifting her weight from one leg to the other. He opened the door for her completely, gesturing for her to go inside.

“Hey Fenris,” she murmured, eyes darting around the room. “Sebastian get moved out?”

“Yeah. He’s staying with Varric until he finds his own place.” Fenris shut the door behind her and leaned against the cold metal, crossing his arms over his chest. He sighed, “I told him that I was fine to sleep on the couch while he figured out what he wanted to do but he wasn’t having it.”

Bethany nodded absentmindedly, still looking around the room. Finally she inhaled audibly before she turned towards him. “You need to come over to our house, spend some with my sister and Garrett.”

Fenris’s brow furrowed. “Hawke made it perfectly clear that she’s moved on.”

She scoffs, tilting her head to the side and giving him a look he’s seen mirrored on their late mother’s face many times over the years. “Marian’s feelings are hurt. Can you really blame her?”

He ran a hand through his white locks before he sighed and shook his head. “No. No, I suppose not.”

“Look, we’re having family dinner tonight. You need to be there.”

He blinked at her, the word family sticking out of the sentence and hanging heavily in the air. He swallowed awkwardly, suddenly unsure of himself; five years ago and he would have counted himself amongst that word. Now the word felt odd. “I- I don’t wish to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding,” she insisted, her voice gentle like someone speaking to a wild animal.

In many ways, perhaps he still was.

In the dark moments, those times when he knew his control was loosening, he could feel the wolf that dwelled inside his body stir. It howled; a sound like amber liquid splashing into a glass, like an empty apology, like meaningless endearments. In the light moments, when the wolf inside him was quiet, he could still feel its shadow following him around like a murmured Tevene apology or an extravagant bouquet of flowers, like makeup caked over skin. Then, he was Leto. Then, he feared the wolf that lived within him. He came to Kirkwall, took the wolf and made it his new name: Fenris. Outwardly, he embraced himself. He pretended like he was in control when he really kept the wolf on a choke chain. It was too much. The wolf fought at its binds, always threatening to free itself even as he tightened the collar. He both loved and feared Hawke. With a laugh she threatened to set his wolf free and with her sharp tongue, she threatened to unleash it.

He awoke first. Her warm body draped over his, soft naked flesh pressed against his own; he could hear her breathing smoothly, deeply. She was at peace. He was like a storm. His heart hammered in his chest as he looked down upon her, all sprawled out over him and the bed, he could see his Mother. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his eyes and looking around the room to focus on something else. Dark green hit empty glasses, a bottle marked ‘whiskey’ with only a finger left inside and he felt his stomach clench. All at once, he was his stepfather. The man who raised him, Danarius, was a bastard, a festering pustule of a human being. The wolf inside of him quivered as he turned his gaze back to Hawke. Fear, icy and hot, gripped his spine with barbed hands and refused to let go. He scrabbled backwards, actually falling off the bed and not bothering to be gentle with the still-sleeping Hawke. She jerked awake, either from the thud or because he’d landed a foot in her body.

Fenris couldn’t breathe. Even as Hawke sleepily asked him what was wrong, he was on his feet and throwing his clothes back on. She sat up and even as the sheet fell away and the sight of her took his breath away, Fenris knew he had to leave. He couldn’t trust himself. Not around her. Not while the wolf snarled and snapped.

“Was it that bad?”

Her question nearly snapped his resolve. Even though he was half-mad, half-agony he couldn’t let her think that this was her fault. “No. It was fine.” Her beautiful eyebrows quirked up and she went from a shooting star to a fiery sun in his eyes. She blazed as the irritation crackled in the air around her. “That is insufficient. It was better than anything I could have dreamed.”

“Fenris, what’s wrong?”

How could he say I can’t trust myself around you to her? She was everything to him. Even if they couldn’t be lovers, Fenris couldn’t imagine his life without her…but he had to. The wolf was hungry.

“I can’t do this. I-I- I just can’t.”

“What?” she whispered incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

For the first time since he was a child, tears threatened to overtake him. He felt his eyes burn as they pricked with tears. The wolf growled furiously and Fenris felt a ripple of anger pass through him. He’d learned not to cry at a young age. How dare she make him cry again. He breathed hard, forcing the fury from his body. He couldn’t, not with her…not ever. He whispered, “I thought I could be happy, but…I can’t.”

“Fenris?”

Bethany’s soft voice pulled him away from his memories. He sighed, rubbing his face as if it could wipe the remnants of the past from his mind. He wanted to go, more than anything, but how could he? She’d moved on. Marian had a family, a child with Donnic. He couldn’t, wouldn’t get in the way of that. He cleared his throat and steeled his voice. “Thank you, Bethany. I just don’t think I can right now.”

She looked taken back, mouth parting and eyebrows practically shooting up to her hairline. Her voice was hesitant: “If that’s how you feel…I guess there’s next week?”

“Sure, I’ll see what I can do.”

He went to the door before she had announced her intention of leaving and opened it. He stood suggestively next to the open space until she took the hint and walked out. She didn’t call a goodbye to him and he couldn’t be sure if that was a good or bad sign. As much as having Bethany hate him would hurt, he couldn’t argue the ease of such a thing in the future. Carver already hated him, Marian wanted nothing to do with him and if he could get Bethany to give up, he could leave the Hawke family alone to live their lives in peace. Wolves belonged on the grounds, Hawkes belonged to the air.

Life evened out after a few more weeks back in Kirkwall. Varric gave him the slots on stage at The Hanged Man that Isabela didn’t want and while Fenris had been nervous about performing without Hawke, the heat from the blinding stage lights was like putting on old clothes. He performed covers, old songs that everyone in the audience would know and enjoy. Singing the words of the greats that had come before him was nice, mindless work. He packed the bar with a different crowd than Isabela’s raucous, half-sexual affairs, which pleased Varric. Even Carver was civil enough, though Fenris had to fetch his own water from behind the bar.

Bethany, despite her seemingly disappointed reaction, refused to leave him alone about coming to their house for the family dinner. Each Saturday night when she picked Carter, Bethany would ask him to come over the following night. It was hard to come up with a reasonable excuse each time, considering the bar was closed every Sunday. Eventually, Fenris had to stop with the reasonable excuses and move on to the more ridiculous ones. But Bethany never gave up on him.

. . .

The door to the bar flew open one afternoon while Fenris was performing a sound check for Isabela’s show. He ignored the intrusion at first, assuming that it was Varric. But the vaguely familiar exclamation of a small voice pulled his attention to the main floor of the bar. Looking down he found himself staring down at Hawke and Garrett. The little girl twirled in place, her green dress fanning out every so slightly as she moved. She had a little pink backpack over her shoulders. He started, sudden dread curling through him. He must have hid his emotions well, because Hawke didn’t react as if he’d done anything offensive. Instead, she crept close to the stage and looked up at him imploringly.

“Have you seen Varric?”

He set his guitar to the side and hopped off the front of the stage to come down to her level. Even with the worried lines creasing across her forehead, she looked…. Fenris stopped himself. He couldn’t think of her like that any longer. Hawke was no longer his, no matter how long he’d be hers.

“I haven’t, why?”

She sighed. “Something’s come up, family emergency, and I need someone to watch Garrett for me.”

He opened his mouth, the words almost tumbling out at their own accord. It was in the way her eyes shone with worry, he wanted nothing more than to pull her into him and protect her. But she wasn’t his, never again. “If I see Varric, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”

Her brow narrowed and he could tell that it wasn’t the response she was expecting from him. Her attention felt heavy on his shoulders, like a yoke to pull a cart of his regrets. “Look,” she began, shifting her weight hesitantly. “I know you don’t want anything to do with us.”

He almost opened his mouth, almost told her that no, he wanted everything to do with her and if that included this little girl then he wanted everything to do with her too. But, Hawke continued before he could speak: “but I really need your help. Will you please, please just take her for the afternoon? I’ll come by your apartment tonight and pick her up. Please, Fenris.”

Fenris almost said no. He was conflicted, ripped apart into hemispheres that each pulled in their own direction. One half of him wanted to say no, absolutely not. Hawke could and should ask Donnic to look after the girl. This part of him was the Wolf, who’d woken from its slumber. He could feel it pacing inside him, huge paws digging claws into his insides. The wolf threatened everything, how could Hawke trust him with her daughter? How could she not know the animal that dwelled just beneath his skin? He wanted to speak, to tell her that she needed to find someone else, anyone else. But, as much as the wolf shook its cage, it wasn’t the part of Fenris that controlled his mouth. This other half of him was calm, wanted nothing more than to ease the burden from Hawke’s shoulders. “Sure Hawke, whatever you need.”

Hawke exhaled, relief spreading across her features, relaxing her tight face. She smiled and Fenris felt as if all was suddenly right with the world. “Thank you, Fenris.”

He swallowed, fear gripping him as the wolf howled. “Anytime.”

Fenris stayed behind as Hawke bent down to speak to her daughter in hushed tones. The little girl looked neither scared nor sad, whatever the emergency was and Fenris had to suppose that was a good thing. His experience with children already being exactly nothing, he wasn’t sure how he could possibly handle a crying child. As soon as Hawke left he found himself staring deep into the green eyes of little Garrett. She looked up at him curiously; as if he was something she’d never seen before. Perhaps he was. Still, as calm as the situation was, Fenris couldn’t fight the palpable dread that suddenly rushed through his body. The wolf bared its teeth and growled, making the worst noises inside of him.

‘I’m not Danarius, I’m not Danarius, I’m not Danarius! ’ he repeated to himself, over and over again. It felt as if someone was holding an invisible gun to his head. At any moment, he feared the pull of a trigger, the culmination of everything he hated most about himself.

The two of them didn’t speak for a long time until Fenris murmured something about needing to finish his sound check. The girl just watched him, like he was a puzzle she was trying to figure out. Finally, as he turned to leave she spoke:

“Did you know my Dad?”

He started, eyes blown wide. “You mean Donnic? Did something happen to Donnic?”

“Donnic isn’t my Dad,” she said, as if it was the most obvious information in the entire world. “Mommy said he’s gone. Does that mean he died like Uncle Garrett?”

Fenris ran a hand through his white hair. “I- I don’t know. Hawke never told me anything,” he said, his eyes suddenly finding the floor very interesting. “Look, can you entertain yourself for like…twenty minutes?”

He turned his back on her, heading back to the stage all while the wolf inside him snarled and keened. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the little girl had plopped down on the floor and opened up the little pink backpack. She’d pulled out a pair of huge headphones, the sort with big, thick pads of foam and he watched as she jammed them over her ears. Evidently, she was no stranger to being at The Hanged Man. Did Hawke and Donnic-

Wait. Garrett had said that Donnic was not her father. So, who was?

Garrett seemed to be entertained enough with the coloring book she’d also pulled from the bag, so with a sigh, Fenris clambered back on stage and finished the sound check.

. . .

One thing had to be said about Garrett, she was a very polite little girl. He’d halfway imagined any offspring of Hawke’s to be some uncontrollable, raucous thing. After all, that was the side of Hawke he’d gotten to know and first fallen in love with. But, little Garrett was a polite and contemplative thing. She took in everything around her, as if each new thing that entered her vision was some component to a larger mechanism that she could figure out if she just studied a little harder. Strangely, her level of scrutiny did nothing to antagonize the wolf. He could remember Danarius getting mad whenever he perceived Fenris to be staring at him. The wolf had been reinforced to think of it as a threat and he could remember before that he’d burn with fury when the eyes of people drifted over the white lines that etched across his skin.

It was awkward having her in his home. He just didn’t know how to be around children. But, Garrett hardly seemed phased. She just toddled from room to room, running her chubby fingers across the smooth planes of his home. Finally, she found the room he’d stashed his meager guitar collection. “Are all of these yours?”

“Yep.”

She looked up at the instruments as if they were holy relics, things to be worshipped and adored. He could tell from the way her hand twitched at her side that she wanted nothing more than to touch one. The wolf stirred, but not unpleasantly as he reached for one of the guitars - a black Fender - and pulled it down from the stand. He bent down in front of her and held the guitar out so she could see it. Her green eyes widened as they shifted from the guitar to him and back.

“This was my first guitar,” he said, as he plucked one of the strings just enough to make a noise. He didn’t want to scare her.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was a bit older than you when I started, though. A music teacher just pushed the instrument in my hands one day, told me just to pretend like I was playing.”

The rest of the memory, of him stealing the guitar and Danarius’s reaction roared through his mind, but he let it go no further. Garrett didn’t need to suffer as he’d done, she didn’t need to learn so young that the world was not always a good place. Without thinking, he gently took her hand and showed her how to strum. As her little fingers drifted over the strings, his careful digits pressed the chords on the neck. She was delighted, he could tell, when the notes changed as she played.

“Maybe one day we’ll work on a song.”

She looked around the room, finally pointing at the guitar he kept fastened on the wall. “I like that one!”

Fenris followed her gaze, throat tightening as he realized she was pointing at his Gibson SJ-250 Monarch. Sebastian had evidently taken up dusting because Fenris knew he’d never bother to keep that particular instrument clean. It was a beautiful piece, of course. The crown on the headstock was made of pearl and abalone, set with actual sapphires, emeralds and a real diamond chip on dotting the ‘i’ on the Gibson name. The tuners were set similarly, adorned with pearl crowns. It was hands-down the most expensive thing in the entire apartment, but Fenris had never felt like the true owner. The guitar had been handed to him in his mother’s living room one night, an empty apology, a bribe to keep his mouth shut. He’d wanted to smash it, but the guitar-lover in him just couldn’t. So, he carried it with him to his new life and set it on a shelf to gather dust.

Without thinking, he blurted out, “when you are big enough to care for it properly, it’s yours.”

“Wow!” she cried, her little face as bright as the sun. “Thank you, Mr. Fenris!”

The longer the thought stirred in his mind, the happier he became. If the girl would truly treat the guitar the way it deserved, then it would serve her far better than it ever would him. He knew the guitar was beautiful, most likely sounded better than any other he owned but it symbolized an old life. A person he needed to let go.

“Mommy said my Daddy played guitar.”

He faltered for a moment. His mind-reeled as he struggled to think up more guitarists in their acquaintance. Had Hawke found another guitarist after him? A man who died and left them alone? The little girl paid no mind to her caregiver’s composure, even as he put the guitar away and paced away from her.

“Do you know how to read?”

Fenris blinked. The wolf snarled, howled a sound like a voice telling that words don’t move around on the page, reminding him that everyone else his age could read chapter books and he was still stuck on the simplest of stories. He swallowed, the wolf easing away bit by bit. “Yes, I can read.”

“I can’t,” she announced. “Not yet, but Uncle Varric said he’s gonna teach me real soon. Then, I can read Mommy’s tattoo.”

It took him a minute to remember that Hawke apparently had the name of Garrett’s father tattooed on her wrist. At the time, he’d assumed it was Donnic. “Why don’t you just ask Haw- your mother what it says?”

She huffed. “I did! She won’t tell me. I asked her what it said and all Mommy would say was that it said the name of my Daddy.”

“So, uh, you hungry?” he asked, desperate to change the conversation lest it grow more awkward.

Her little face lit up. “Yes! Can I have peanut butter?”

He chuckled in spite of himself. “I think I actually have peanut butter.”

The wolf whimpered, a surprising soft sound as he put his hand on Garrett’s back to guide her into the kitchen. It seemed to shake, ruffle its fur into something soft. He put his hands on her tiny waist and hoisted her in the air so she could sit on one of the stools tucked underneath the bar that connected to his kitchen counters. He knew nothing about kids, Fenris knew, but there was something innate in the way he spread the peanut butter across the bread for her. The way he cut the sandwich up into triangles, the knowledge that she needed the little plastic container of sugar-free applesauce that Sebastian had left behind, all came to him like they were simply facts of life. He found himself making a shopping list in his head, of things he’d buy for the next time. The sudden realization that there may not be a ‘next time’ was like a knife in his gut.

“I like it when my sandwich is in triangles,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Uncle Donnic doesn’t do it right.”

Fenris smirked a little, jealous heart a little too pleased over the idea that Hawke’s boyfriend couldn’t do something right. Unaware of his internal gloating, Garrett continued, “He’s on a date with Aunt Aveline right now.”

“Wait, what?” Ice washed through Fenris’s veins. Donnic and Aveline were dating? But, what about Hawke?

Garrett nodded, pleased to have his attention again. “That’s why Mama took me to you. She said she didn’t want to bother Uncle Donnic and Aunt Aveline now that they were finally getting it.”

He coughed. Part of him wanted to ask Garrett if Hawke was seeing anyone. But the idea that the little girl be forced to act like a mediator between her mother and him was just…wrong. It was too familiar, too close to home. The wolf inside of him growled and belatedly he realized the wolf wasn’t growling at Garrett. It was growling at him.

“Can we play guitar?” she asked, her green eyes dancing.

His heart melted and Fenris knew that he couldn’t say no to her even if he tried. She cheered gleefully when he said yes, and with his help, bounded off of the chair and back into the room with the guitars. He picked the same one up and sat down on the floor next to her. To his great surprise, she clambered into his lap and sat down. Her little arm reached over the guitar and strummed. He froze for a moment, completely paralyzed with fear. The wolf howled and all he could think about was the part of himself, the dark part that lay within his mind and how it could loose at any moment. His heart pounded in his chest, eyes locked on to the little girl with jet-black curls and green eyes.

And nothing happened.

Gingerly, he put one arm around her and the wolf chirruped, whimpering like it was talking to a pup. The invisible gun at his temple vanished as he held her hand to show her how to properly strum the guitar. She was too little to reach the fretboard, so she simply watched as his nimble fingers pressed and released strings across the neck of the guitar. She warmed his heart and he felt nearly complete for the first time in five years. The urge to bend his head forward to plant a kiss on her head was palpable, instinctual and almost too much to bear. The two of them played a couple of songs and without thinking, he drifted immediately into Hawke’s song. The words came out of his mouth, almost out of his control.

Anytime that you’re thinking of me
That you might want me
I’ll come on over
Don’t you know
Anytime, anyplace
I am yours

He felt Garret’s head fall back against his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the steady rise and fall of her chest as she slept. He kept playing, his voice soft:

If you're hoping for second chances of
Stolen kisses I got the answer
Don’t you know
Anytime, anyplace I am yours

“Fenris?”

Hawke’s voice broke through the bubble he and Garrett had put around each other. He stopped playing and the little girl woke up.

“Mama!” she cried as she clambered out of Fenris’s lap and ran towards her mother’s open arms. Hawke scooped her up tight, hugging her. “Mama he plays guitar! He let me play too!”

“Wow,” she said. “So you had fun?”

“Yes! Can I stay with Fenris again?”

Hawke hesitated, prompting Fenris to volunteer: “I’d love to have her again.”

Her brow furrowed. “Really?”

“Yes. Is that so surprising?”

Hawke swallowed, wiping all the dark from her expression as she bent down towards Garrett. “Uncle Carver is out in the car, can you go find him while I have a word with Fenris?”

“Okay! I had fun, Fenris!”

He found himself smiling at her. “I did too.”

To his great surprise, he meant it.

Once she was outside and the door had closed firmly behind her. Hawke rounded on him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Fenris was taken back. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t just come in to her life, make yourself a part of it and leave again when things get hard.”

“I’m not going to do that, Hawke.”

“Bullshit!” she snarled. “That’s what you did to me. I fucking needed you, Fenris.”

“I know, I didn’t think about the show when I left. I just-”

“The show?” she interrupted, incredulously. “You think I’m talking about the show?”

Fenris sputtered, trying to think of something to say. Hawke groaned, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. Her right hand, however, flew too far out and collided into the wall. Fenris could hear the thump across the room as she hissed and cursed in pain. He was across the room in an instant, cradling her injured hand in his. He rubbed her palm softly as she continued cursing. He tried whispering soothing inanities, but he was never very good at that sort of thing. He shifted her hand over and there, scrawled across her wrist in black ink was a single word:

Leto

His heart stopped. All time around him stopped as his thumb swept over the script. Hawke froze, her blue eyes darting back and forth between his thumb and his face. Her chest heaved, up and down and through the pulse point in her wrist he could feel how fast her heart was hammering. It matched his beat for beat.

“That’s…that’s my name,” he murmured dumbly.

“Yes.”

“That means…that means….”

Hawke sighed, a slight exhalation of air as if she just couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Garrett is your daughter…our daughter.”

The wolf bayed mournfully, but not angrily. It was a song in his heart, searching for an echoing chorus. All he could do was breathe and stare down at the script across her wrist.

“You really didn’t know…didn’t realize?” she asked.

“No, I…never thought. It was one time.”

“Do I really have to say that once is all it takes?”

He breathed, a puff that may have been a laugh. “Hawke, I-”

She cut him off. “That song, did you mean it?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I am yours, Hawke.”

He finally looked up at her to see that there were tears shining in her blue eyes. He lifted his left hand to cup her cheek in his hand, wiping away the liquid with his thumb.

“You aren’t going to leave again? Fenris, I can’t…I can’t do that to Garrett or to me.”

“Even if you don’t want me in your arms, Hawke, I’ll remain at your side.” He paused, shaking his head. “I should have asked for your forgiveness when I first got back. I should have just told you how I felt about you from the very beginning.”

“How do you feel about me?”

He stroked her cheek with the side of his thumb and stared deep into her glassy eyes. “Nothing in this world is worse than the thought of living without you.”

She shivered at his words and looked away, her two front teeth sneaking out of her mouth to press into the soft flesh of her bottom lip. After a moment, her gaze returned to him, bright and curious.“I need to know why you left.”

He breathed, screwing up the courage to say what he needed to say. “I left because I was afraid. After everything I went through, with my mother and Danarius, I was terrified of doing that to you.”

“Fenris,” she breathed, mouth opening to protest.

“Please, let me finish. When we were together, that night, I…. It brought up so many memories, so many old pains. It was too much. I saw myself becoming my stepfather and I couldn’t, I wouldn’t do that to you. I cleaned up my act. I quit drinking, everything to make myself the sort of man that I wanted to be and the sort of man you deserved.” He sighed and continued, “I believed I was ready to come back and that I could finally be the man you needed me to be. But, I saw Garrett and Donnic and I thought…. Maker, Hawke I thought I’d lost you.”

“I was furious with you after I found out I was pregnant,” she said, eyes drifting away from him.

“You had a right to be. Had I known that you were pregnant I would never have left.”

She looked back up at him, eyes dancing across his face as if she were taking inventory of every inch of him. “What about Garrett? Can you…will you love her? Because I won’t let anyone hurt her, not even you, Fenris. If you’re going to come into our lives just to leave-”

“I think she’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Even if you and I can’t be together, I am hers.”

Tears rolled down Hawke’s cheeks, leaving twin trails of glistening light in their wake. She sniffled, her breath coming out in shaky almost-sobs. “Okay,” she murmured.

“Okay?”

She wiped her tears away with the sides of her fingers. “I will forgive you and I want us to be a family. Can you do that?”

He bent down and pressed his lips gently against hers. She let out a soft moan, pressing her body into his as she tilted her head to get better access to his mouth. Her arms snaked around his neck as he gripped her waist and held her in his arms. It was right, holding her, like he was almost complete. As their kiss broke, and he buried his face in her neck he whispered, “if there is a future to be had, I will gladly walk into it by your side.”

“Fenris is my dad?”

The two of them broke apart and saw Garrett and a very sheepish Carver standing in the doorway.

“She said she didn’t say Goodbye,” he explained, his cheeks pinking.

Hawke glared at her brother, but the look melted away as she crouched down to be on the same level with Garrett. Fenris, still unsure, followed suit.

“Yes, Darling. Fenris is your father.”

“Does that mean he’s going to live with us?”

“Only if you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah,” Fenris added quickly, nodding his head.

Garrett grinned, flying into Fenris’s arms and throwing her small arms about his neck. He felt no fear as he held on to the daughter he’d just met. Instead as Hawke pressed her lips against his cheek, Fenris felt utterly complete, at last.

The wolf within slept.