Living without you -- a FenHawke Fanfic

2

Fenris' challenge of the Tevinter slave trade had led him to some interesting places, mainly those with very little booze, and he was happy to be back in his and Hawke's temporary home, where they kept only the finest selections of hard liquor. Though it still felt wrong, Fenris had taken Hawke's advice regarding employing the slaves that they helped free. He felt as though he were betraying them and himself. While he did pay them, they were still former slaves, as was he, and it just felt...wrong. Even still, they were happy to work, even happier to have freedom once the reality eventually sank in.

"Mas--I-I mean Fenris," one elf girl, Faelyn, mumbled quietly as she knocked on the opened door of Fenris and Hawke's chambers. He didn't want the workers to address him formally, they were employed not enslaved, he was no better than they were, and he wanted them to understand that. Hawke was respectful and kind, but she didn't understand just how much it meant to these freed elves, no one could truly understand until they had been a slave themself.

"Yes?"

"A messenger brought this stack of letters, he said he had held them for you as he did not know where you were or when you would return. They're from Ferelden, he says." Fenris' heart leapt, that is why Hawke had not written him in all that time, the letters had been held!

"Thank you, Faelyn." He said to the girl, a genuine notion of appreciation. He watched as her eyes lit up, surprised and honored by even the slightest bit of gratitude. Fenris could still remember how it felt, how it still sometimes felt, for someone to thank him for something that he would have once been required to do without question. The little things.

Fenris pulled back his white hair, which had grown long in the time he had hunted slavers in Tevinter, and tied it with black chord before lighting a candle and sitting at the writing desk to read Hawke's letters. Each one, beautifully decorated with a red wax seal, stamped with the crest of the inquisition, and Hawke's wonderfully messy cursive scrawl. Each one addressed to Fenris, her words written so carefully that one might have thought his name were synonymous with the Creator's themselves.

Fenris,

Already I've grown bored of traveling and the company I seem to keep leads me to believe I would have been far better off playing naughty card games with drunken red Templars. Honestly. Anyways, I should arrive in Ferelden within the next couple days, and I will write to you then as well, I just wanted to find a way to keep my mind occupied in the night. I did not realize how difficult it would be to fall asleep apart from you after all this time, you've spoiled me, I think. I eagerly await my return to you.

Love,
Hawke.

The elf smiled to himself, running his fingers over his lover's words that she had messily inked into the parchment. Deciding to hold onto her letters, he placed the one back into its envelope and placed it aside for later reading. The next seven or so were relatively the same, only she spoke of the lady Inquisitor and how her hospitality was unrivaled, of how the lady Inquisitor had befriended Varric and fallen for (some say secretly married) the commander of the troops, a famed ex- Templar by the name of Rutherford whom she recalled meeting at Kirkwall some time ago. By the time there was only one letter left, Hawke's tone had changed from light hearted, to urgent and nervous. She spoke of the Fade, Corypheus, and conflict within the inquisition itself. The inquisitor seemed sick, according to Hawke, and afraid. Even Hawke herself, deep in the underlying tone of her letters, seemed worried.

Fenris picked up the final letter, surprised to find that instead of it being from Hawke, it was addressed to him from the story-telling dwarf himself, Varric.

Odd. Fenris thought to himself, slicing the envelope open with a sharp, decorative dagger and pulling the parchment free.

Fenris,

I hope that this letter finds you, as Hawke herself expressed concern about her own letters failing to reach you on your 'journeys' in Tevinter. Even still, you deserve to know.
There is no simple way of telling you this, Fenris, so I can only explain what happened. Hawke decided to aid the inquisition in the fight against Corypheus, and they became trapped in the fade. According to the inquisitor, it was necessary for someone to stay behind in the fade, in order for the others to escape.. I'm told Hawke fought very bravely, and allowed the inquisition a narrow escape.
I'm sorry that this letter to you couldn't be different.. Hawke was.. Something else entirely.

My condolences,
Varric

Fenris sat, frozen in place, staring down at the parchment in his shaking hands. He couldn't be sure if the paper in his hands were real, or if is were just some nightmare brought on by bad whiskey. Either way, his heart seemed to cease beating for a moment, and his stomach clenched and twisted, making him feel as though he might be sick.

Hawke.. Fenris thought to himself, choking back on all of his memories and thoughts of her. No..Hawke, no....you can't be.. All at once, Fenris wished that Hawke had never taught this escaped slave to read.. The elf crushed the parchment in his hand, clenching it tightly in his fist and bringing it to his wavering lips. "..Hawke.." He breathed out, his voice mimicking the image of a shattered mirror. He'd had to face the prospect of living without Hawke before..and after the first battle with Corypheus he swore, never again.. And now...

Fenris gritted his teeth together, clenching his eyes shut as he exhaled shallow, shaky breathes. It was all the elf could do to contain his undeniable rage that only grew in intensity as the Lyrium markings in his skin began to glow a ghostly faint blue. And now... Fenris thought to himself, his body quaking with the intensity of his anger. And now the inquisition has destroyed what little this world held for me...