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He was always amazed at the sight of her, though no one could tell it from his perpetually scowling face. She was a whirlwind in battle, destroying everything in her path, but not without mercy. Even though her compassion often struck against his mage-hating values, he couldn’t help still grudgingly admiring her.
She did what she wanted, when she wanted, despite any misgivings anyone had against her decisions, especially his.
He had thought himself one of the most dangerous things out there, a wolf who would tear apart anyone who got in his ways. He loped around like his namesake, growling at those who dared meet his eye and striking down mages for daring to be in his presence.
After Danarius, he claimed the world as his own and refused to ever be dominated by anyone ever again.
But she was a dragon, free and soaring and powerful, and who couldn’t bow down to such an impressive figure? Her name, the one everyone called her, might have suggested a bird; similar in attitude but nowhere near as deadly.
She flew above him, out of his reach and he dared to hope, silently, deep in his heart of hearts, that she would come down and grace him with her sheer glory.
He tried to hate her, for she was a mage and the bane of his existence. The former slave would never bow down before anyone, least of all this woman, who smiled at him like he deserved it. But when he saw that she was true in her intentions, he was baffled. How could a mage mean well?
She was good to everyone and he began to believe that the light that surrounded her wasn’t a simply a magic trick used to confuse him.
When she started to show an interest in him, above what she showed everyone, he couldn’t say he wasn’t flattered. This beautiful woman, who embodied his ideal of freedom, stepped down from the pedestal he put her on and dared to want him.
He welcomed every advance, delighting in her attention and company more than any bottle of Danarius’ wine could give. Any touch, accidental or otherwise, sent little shocks through him, lighting up his lyrium in surprise.
But, unlike when his former master forced him to put on a show for his cohorts, the tattoos sang with unbridled joy and soothed his aching skin for the first time in his life.
And so he was frightened when all those memories crashed upon him like the waves of the Waking Sea when they made love. The numbing pain of a life lost mixed with the physical pleasure of feeling her soft skin against his own. He couldn’t make sense of all the conflicting emotions and, instead of confronting them, ran away from her.
He knew she didn’t deserve what he did, but he couldn’t think of anything else at the time. He felt like the child he was barely beginning to remember.
Three years. She waited for him for three years. To say he was surprised was only a start and to say he was happy was the understatement of the Age. Not only had she descended from the heavens, she stayed on the miserable earth for him.
He felt like the luckiest man alive to wear her colors and fall into to bed with her every night.
They were there for each other, the dragon and the wolf. Two different world collided into something new they had both yet to experience. She would trace the glowing trails on his skin while he read, stumblingly. He would hold her as her body was wracked with sobs over the loss of her family, of friends, of strangers.
They would sit on the roof of the manor, watching the stars and basking in their light and each other’s love. He vowed to protect her until the day he died.
Neither of them thought that meeting the Inquisitor would be disastrous. He didn’t know that the day he watched her leave their home would be the last he’d ever see her. When he received the letter from Varric that his love, his dragon, had died in the Veil saving someone the world claimed was important, his grief overwhelmed. All he could do was hold the child who looked like Hawke in his arms and let out heart-wrenching sobs. He should have been there to protect her.
How could she leave him? And how would he take care of their baby alone?