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I cannot imagine the impossibility of being my lover.
Despite all he’s been through, Garrett moves through the world with ease. I’ve seen tender hugs he shares with his mother, the way Isabela drapes herself over him, both of them laughing while she teases. A tense visit with Carver, ending with a firm handshake. Arm wrestling with Varric, clapping Aveline’s shoulder. Garrett’s hands and Merrill’s hands and Anders’s hands passing over each other, under each other, running into each other as they teach each other spells, adjusting grips on staves. Skin on skin on skin.
Garrett is a man who likes to be touched. It does not bring him pain. An errant hand brushing across his shoulder or a body bumping into him does not cause him to recoil.
Yet he chose me.
He chose a man for whom a kiss can feel like death, an arm lovingly around his shoulders feels like a constrictor snake. More than once I have come to Garrett’s bed, aching for want of him. He is more than happy to receive me, but there are times when his gaze is paralyzing, when his arms feel like a cage, where I am trapped by his very presence. On our most recent attempt at a tryst, I froze. His knee was between my legs, his hand crawled up underneath my shirt.
I left, as I had before. Garrett had called to me, asked me to stay, but I couldn’t. Shame burned through me, white-hot and painful as my accursed markings.
He has never touched me with anything but kindness, yet I cannot repay him even that.
I love him. I want him, like I have never wanted another. But too often, in our private moments together, my body can only remember pain. What was taken from me.
I don’t seek out Garrett the next day. I know he will find me, whether I’m ready to speak to him or not. By the time he arrives at the mansion, I’ve already finished a bottle of Aggregio and am well into a second. Garrett sighs, his shoulders slumping when he sees me. “That won’t help, you know.”
I wipe my stained lips. “It will.”
Garrett snatches the bottle from me and takes a drink. “Can we please talk about what happened?”
An involuntary shudder runs through me. “No.” I hold my hand out, waiting for him to return the wine.
Garrett takes another gulp instead. “I've got to catch up with you. You drink more than some dwarves I’ve met.”
“Are you saying I shouldn't enjoy my wine cellar?”
“I'm not sure ‘enjoy’ is the right word.” Garrett puts the bottle to his lips and takes several more swallows. When he gives it back to me, it's empty. “Does it help with the pain?”
“At times.” Drunkenness dulls the pain of my markings, or at least helps me forget about them.
“There might be other ways. Anders found a book that mentions non-magical techniques for pain management. There's this Orlesian technique called ‘massage.’ It--”
“Anders.” The derision in my voice is clear.
“Yes, Fenris, Anders.” Garrett sighs. “He’s not a monster.”
“Isn’t he?” Something inside me is keening with frustration. This is not the conversation I want to be having with him right now. I love Garret’s determination to fix everything, even when it comes back to bite him in the ass. I want to tell him that instead of wasting another breath on the apostate.
“This isn’t about Anders. It's about you and me.” He crosses his arms. “I know your markings hurt. I've tried to make things easier for you. So what is it?”
He has. Garrett has used his wealth to procure soft satin sheets for his bed and mine. He had a rather circuitous way of giving me silk underclothes that irritate my skin less than cotton or wool, since he knew my damned pride would make me decline them if offered outright. He’s never once touched my markings, during our intimate moments or otherwise.
His wide eyes search my face, but I can’t bring myself to answer him. Garrett fills the silence between us. “Do you not want me?”
I run my tongue over my lower lip. The taste of Aggregio still lingers there. I'm not drunk enough for honesty to come easy. “Of course I want you. But if all you want to do is pin me in your bed--” My voice pitches up an octave as it grows louder. “Then go to Anders, or Isabela, or Varric for all I care!”
Garrett takes a step back from me. My grip tightens on the empty bottle. “I want you in my bed because I love you, Fenris. Not the other way around.”
I cast my eyes downward. I can’t stand to look at him.
“If that's all you think of me,” he continues, quietly, then shakes his head. “...I'd better go.”
I should stop him. I want to stop him.
I let him leave without another word.
A day passes, then another. Garrett does not call on me.
Perhaps this is the end of us.
This is what I wanted, I remind myself as I curl in bed. He deserves better.
I can only make myself believe one of those things.
When someone finally does come to find me, it’s not Garrett. In fact, it’s the last person I expect to come barging in. And true to Isabela’s style, she does barge. She comes into the mansion with no preamble, or even a proper greeting. Just, “Andraste’s great flaming tits, what did you do to him?”
I’m so startled at her sudden appearance I can only say, “What?”
“Whatever spat you and Hawke are having has been going on too long.” Without being invited, Isabela goes to the parlor and takes a seat in a once plush chair. She kicks her legs up over one of the torn arms. “He’s going to be crying into his ale at this rate.”
When I told Garrett to go to Isabela, this was not what I had in mind. “He sent you to talk to me?”
“No, I sent me. His pouting has sucked all the fun out of the pub.” She doesn’t make a joke about what else he’s been sucking at the pub, so I know she’s serious. “Either end things, or make up with him. He’s driving the rest of us mad.”
“He doesn't understand.” I curl into myself before I realize what I'm doing. “The things that were done to me…”
I wait for her to say it was in the past, and that I need to move on. She wouldn't be the first.
“...were not your fault,” she says instead. Her voice is more tender than I’ve ever heard it. “It’s not just the markings, is it?”
I don’t ask how she knows. For all her jokes and innuendos, this pirate queen has seen more suffering than most.
“The problem is that Hawke's a bit dense,” Isabela continues, and I smile despite myself. “You are not to be blamed for that, either.”
“I can't tell him,” I finally say.
I've never said it out loud. Not to anyone. Shame washes over me again. I could have fought. I could have--
Isabela seems far away from me now, even though she's within arm's reach. I grind my heels into the stone floor, fighting to stay present.
“You don’t have to.” She finally gets up from her seat. Her voice becomes light and flippant once again. “I'd be thrilled getting your leftovers, but I don't think either of you want that.”
She winks and saunters out.
Isabela's words have unexpected staying power.
You are not to be blamed. You are not to be blamed. You are not to be blamed.
It echoes in my head with every hurried step I take to Garrett's mansion.
Garrett is in the courtyard throwing a ball for his hound. The mabari notices me before Garrett does. He runs over, barking and waving his stump of a tail. Garrett stares at me, like he can’t believe I’m real. “You’re here.”
I don’t know where to start. “I am.”
“I missed you.” Garrett doesn't reach out to me. “I thought you didn't want to see me.”
My chest tightens. “I always want to see you.”
“What am I doing wrong?” His eyes are enough to break my heart.
“Nothing. You haven't done anything wrong. It's me--”
I stop abruptly.
You are not to be blamed.
“It's my body,” I say in a shaky breath. “Sometimes, when we're…close. It remembers the things that were done to it.”
Garrett nods once, to show he's listening.
“And it…freezes. It panics. And I…” It’s not cold, but I’m shivering. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Garrett. I do. But I have no trust in the world.”
Garrett’s lips part slightly, and I know he understands something now that he didn’t before. “What can I do, Fenris?”
I wish I knew what to tell him. I wish I had a simple answer to fix everything. “I don’t know.” I think back to the times when I could allow myself to be close to him…and the times I could not. “I like it best when we…start slowly. I’ll try to let you know when things become too much.”
“I can be patient.” Garrett finally reaches out to me. “Fenris, you are always going to be safe with me. Always.”
I take his hand in mine. I don’t want to pull away.
And for now, my body lets me stay with him.