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His sword had never felt as heavy as it did strapped to his back, almost like a dead weight.
The whole world was darker than it had been, even before he’d seen Hawke. Back to black and white, except for the one thing that kept him going, the ribbon tied around his wrist. Still as vibrant as the day he put it on, and the single spark of hope for him being able to bring Hawke home.
He paused when he got to the top of one of the Frostbacks, watching the castle from his height. Skyhold, as majestic as he’d been hearing on his journey over there.
He was running, at that point, desperate to get inside. Down the mountain, across the bridge, in through the gate. And then into the main Keep, barely even noticing the gasp that came from one of the women- short, dark-haired, seemingly a soldier. He only stopped when he saw Varric, crossing the room and backing him up against the wall.
“Where is the Inquisitor?” he growled, and realized how angry, how desperate he sounded. Much more like the man he’d been before he’d had Hawke’s love, before he’d even really known her. Varric just stared.
“Broody?” he asked.
“I won’t ask again, dwarf,” he repeated himself, and his voice left no room for argument. He saw the other man sag and point to the door next to him.
“Upstairs, in the library. But I wouldn’t…”
Fenris ignored any warning he may have been offered, instead pushing his way into the other room, upstairs and right towards the dark haired elf, who appeared to be…
Kissing someone.
If the Inquisitor’s happiness while he was tearing apart inside wasn’t difficult enough, seeing just who he was kissing had him furious.
“You.”
The two were shocked out of their affections, Mahanon Lavellan wide-eyed and embarrassed where Dorian Pavus looked confused for a moment, before his expression cleared.
“Aren’t you Danarius’… oh, come now, venhedis, ow!”
Fenris’ marks were glowing as he held Dorian up against the wall, hand at his throat. What was the Inquisitor thinking, openly kissing one of the men who held their people in slavery? Then again, the Inquisitor was probably as clueless as Merrill had been, the Dalish simply pitying all elves other than themselves, never truly understanding what it was like to have men like this beat you when you got things wrong.
Lavellan, for his part, moved in front of his lover and frowned at Fenris, look bland and coolly polite, while still dangerous.
“Fenris, I presume?”
Fenris glared, “Yes. I’ve come to humbly request you open up a rift for me so I can retrieve Hawke from the Fade.”
He wasn’t prepared for the pity and pain that flooded the man’s featured as he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.
“She’s dead, Fenris. When we left her there, she…”
But Fenris wasn’t going to take that, “No, she isn’t. You know what it is, when you find your soulmate, don’t you? The colour and such? Well, all of it faded when you left her. All of it except this.”
He held up his hand, the red ribbon around it, and Lavellan stared at it in shock, glancing down at his hand and back up at Fenris.
“We have someone here. An expert in the Fade. He might be able to-”
“I can help,” Dorian quipped, but was silenced by a look from the Inquisitor.
“Dorian, if you stay Fenris will probably kill you.”
Fenris was inclined to agree with the other man. He glared at Dorian, arms going to fold across his chest, until the mage finally appeared to back down. This was all it took for Mahanon to give Fenris a ‘follow me’ wave of his hand, leading him downstairs and into a rotunda, covered in murals. And in the centre stood another elf, bent over a desk, frowning at something lying on it. He glanced up at their entrance, however, and tilted his head to the side.
“Inquisitor. And… Fenris, I presume, if I am to believe Varric’s tales?”
Fenris just stared. The whole room was tugging at the markings on his skin, hurting more than he’d have thought possible. Between the Inquisitor, Dorian Pavus, and apparently this new man, he was close to passing out. Which, really, made no sense. He’d always been fine when stuck with Anders, Merrill and Hawke. He would have attributed it to the mark that sparked slightly on the palm of the Inquisitor’s hand, but the pain wasn’t coming from him, it was coming from the other elf. His eyebrows drew down further as he watched the man carefully, unsure.
The Inquisitor was the one to break the silence, “Yes. Fenris, this is Solas. He’s our expert on the Fade and should be able to help out.”
Fenris didn’t miss a beat, “Hawke is in the Fade. She is still alive, and I need to get her out.”
Solas’ frown deepened, and he shook his head, going to sit down at his desk.
“Impossible. Even if it was possible she lived the battle, she would surely have perished since. The Fade is not a hospitable place.”
Fenris just stood straighter, “I still intend to go in, no matter what, so I suggest you help. And I know she is alive. I still see this-” he held up his left hand “-in color.”
Both men turned to stare at him. Solas’ face flashed with a hint of… guilt? The Inquisitor’s face had twisted slightly in confusion.
“How do you plan to get in without the mark?”
“Easily. I will find a rift, and I will enter that.”
“That would kill you!” protested Mahanon, but Fenris just turned his gaze to the ground.
“Without her, I am already dead.”
Silence fell over the room, and Solas stood.
“Soulmates are complicated, but if you say can still see that, I am willing to believe you. You two must have an incredibly strong connection, normally the Veil only thins enough for you to see everything when the partner is… well, on this side of it.”
Fenris shrugged, not willing to go with discussion. He didn’t want to talk, he wanted to get Hawke back.
“As for getting you into the Fade, I believe it can be done,” Solas eventually continued. “Provided Lady Morrigan allows us use of her Eluvian.”
Fenris stared at the mirror with a hint of distaste. Eluvians brought back memories- of Merrill, her obsession, madness and blood magic. Morrigan, however, informed him it would be perfectly safe. He wasn’t entirely certain he trusted her, but he had little choice.
“You will have some time, but we will eventually have to close it,” she informed him, voice grace. “Demons aren’t the most pleasant of visitors, and I’d rather not have them within fifty feet of my son.”
Fenris turned his gaze onto her, and gave a nod. Without looking at any of them, he stepped forwards, straight out into the Fade.
He was immediately surrounded with green, and he screwed up his eyes a little. He stumbled to the side, eyes screwed half-shut. He guessed this was what Solas had spoken of; going through the Veil must have allowed color to creep through again. Either that, or Hawke was near. The thought had his heart beating faster in his chest, the first hints of a genuine smile he’d shown in weeks creeping onto his face.
He began to run, fast as his legs would carry him, though he skidded to a stop when he came face to face with…
“Well,” he muttered to himself. “I honestly thought my day was looking up.”
Anders smiled at him, and raised his arms, “Hey, I honestly thought the same. I was enjoying my time on a beach with six eager men and women wanting a piece of me. Now I’m stuck here with you.”
Fenris’ face went into one of disbelief, “What happened to your voice? And did you just say something that didn’t have to do with how hard done to you are?”
“Well, that’s what happens when you die. You get to go to the Beyond, everything is lovely, any spirits you may or may not have had inside you-” he sniggered. “-heh, inside me, anyway, they leave. Justice left, I got to go back to my wonderful self. Great improvement, really, I was turning into such a bore.”
Fenris continued to stare. Anders seemed a lot younger than he ever had, and was gesticulating wildly. And smiling. A lot of smiling was occurring.
And he didn’t seem ready to shut up.
“Like I was saying, I was in the Beyond, and then I get chased down by some love spirit. And instead of letting me seduce her, she tells me I’ve got to help you find Hawke and let you get back to your cushy little life together. And so here I am!” he spread his arms wide to illustrate, and then began to walk away, Fenris jogging to close the small space between them, before walking next to him in silence, mouth still a little ajar. Honestly, he was more than a little surprised Anders had gotten to the Beyond and not the Void. Killing a woman of faith couldn’t buy you many favors with the Maker, surely?
Anders glanced over, “I can see the cogs turning in your brain, Fenris. I’m not burning away in the Void for all eternity because it doesn’t exist. We all go somewhere nice after death. Much preferable to agony, right?”
Fenris tripped over his own feet, and tried to get his brain to catch up with his ears. As it was, he was still trying to get over the disappointment of Anders being the one sent to him. Why couldn’t it have been someone he liked? He’d always gotten along with Leandra. That would have been preferable to his current company. Anders, in the list of dead people he could see again, ranked somewhere near Danarius. They had only tolerated each other back when the mage was alive (though he suspected ‘tolerated’ was probably an overstatement), and he was still having to deal with him after his death? He’d comforted Hawke after the death of their companion, but there was no love lost between himself and Anders. He hadn’t exactly had a party, but he didn’t exactly mourn, either.
When they finally reached a clearing, he stopped as the mage did, glancing over in alarm.
“What is it?” he asked, and Anders nodded to the area in front of them. What Fenris saw had him almost collapsing on the ground with joy. Hawke, sitting on the ground and reading a book. Her facial expression clearly conveyed she was bored by it, but she was persisting.
“This is where I leave you. Back to my friends,” Anders retorted, before glancing down at the ground, a hint of his old self. “Tell Hawke… tell her I’m sorry. That… if I could have, I would’ve stopped myself from doing what I did. Vengeance was too much a part of me at that point.”
And then he was gone. Just like that. Fenris felt the first stab of sympathy he ever had towards the other man, but it was overridden by his joy at seeing Hawke.
“Hawke?” he called, and she jumped, looking up in shock. She narrowed her eyes, before closing them and opening them again, muttering something under her breath. When it did nothing, she moved forwards, a hand going to clasp his upper arm.
“You’re… real. You’re not a demon.”
She sounded shocked, glad, awed. He smiled down at her.
“Not a demon,” he replied, and leaned down to kiss her, drinking her in like he was parched. Arms around her waist, eyes closed against the sudden burn of tears.
“But… how?” she asked, once they broke apart. He shrugged, and her eyes narrowed.
“If I find out you risked your life, I will follow up on the threat I gave in the note. My dwarf will hang you from the top of Skyhold. I swear it.”
He shook his head, “Hawke, if anyone is going to be hanging from Skyhold, it’s you. Never, ever do anything like this again.”
And with that, they set off, back in the direction from whence he came.