DA2 Fanfic: Confession

[scarylady]

This is rough, but I needed it out of my system, and I haven't seen anyone else come in from this angle at the end of the game.

Title: Confession
Characters: M!Hawke, Fenris
Rating: T
Word Count: 725
Summary: The warmth of Fenris' personal sun has been eclipsed.

 

 

It felt strange to go openly to him, after so many years of dreaming it; liberating to walk of my own will into his house, with everything out in the open between us.

In all these years, despite everything that had happened, he’d always smiled. A half-smile, his head cocked to one side; to me it had been like travelling with a personal sun, which warmed without burning.

Today, when it was all over, when the mages he’d fought so hard to save cheered in the streets for the dangerous freedom they had gained, he sat on the bed, hands loosely clasped before him and had no smile for me.

“You were right, Fenris, I’m sorry.”

For a moment I couldn’t think what it was he could mean, couldn’t imagine what it was that I could be right about. A cold fear gripped me; that he’d finally come around to my old conclusion, that he did not believe we could be together. That, once again, I had nothing.

“I’ve known for a long time that you were right; that the mages were too dangerous. I knew when that… thing wore my mother’s face and spoke with her voice.” The old pain in his own voice wrenched at me. “I knew when we had to kill Keeper Merethari.” He drew a shuddering breath while I stood and stared at him in disbelief. “I should have killed Anders; I knew that too.”

He’d let them all loose, and I’d stood by him. I’d believed in him, even if I didn’t believe in them. And now this? I couldn’t- There was nothing I-

Alright, there was one thing. “Why, then?”

“Because of Bethany. It was all because of Bethany.” He sounded weary beyond measure, dragged beyond belief. Since the battle ended they had touted him around like a good luck banner, so that as far as I knew he’d taken no rest. He snorted mirthlessly, and I wished I had a bottle to hand him, as the only panacea I could offer. “Every time I met yet another mage who blew up like a puffer-fish, too unstable to cope with life without taking a knife to their wrist, every time I stuck my daggers into yet another demon who used to be human, I swore that this time I’d change sides, this time I’d learn my lesson.” His eyes, usually so merry, were a little blank, but they held mine steadily. “And, when the next chance came, I thought of Bethany under the heel of that monster Meredith, of my innocent baby sister killed in the Rite of Annulment, and I couldn’t do it.”

He shifted slightly where he sat, legs apart, hands clasped loosely between them. I don’t think I’d moved a muscle since he began speaking. “I told myself it wasn’t just Bethany, it was what she represented: there had to be other stable mages, ones like her and Orsino.” A note of indignation entered his voice. “And then, when it was too late, when the die was cast and we were locked into battle, even the Maker-damned First Enchanter turned to blood magic. It wasn’t even necessary, we were winning.” For the first time he dropped his eyes from mine. “You were right and yet, even then, you never said I told you so. You should have, I deserved it.”

It was hard to speak past the lump in my throat, making my words harsher than I intended. “I told you once that if you wanted your actions redeemed you were asking the wrong man. The same goes for if you want them condemned.” I tried to soften it as best I could, but it has never been my forte. “At least your sister was worth saving.”

My reward was to see the half-smile return, a glint of life in the pale brown eyes that he raised to mine. He stood, graceful as always, and crossed the room to stand before me.

“What a comfort that will be, when we’re surrounded by exploding puffer-fish.”

My hand came up of its own volition to wrap around his nape, beneath his silky golden hair. Mine, still mine. The mages may go off like little dwarven bombs, but…

“We’ll keep the demons down together, Hawke.” Personal ones as well as public. “But first, I think we need a drink.”