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Emerald Eyed Emotions

Summary:

Hawke duel's the Arishok! She doesn't get away without a scratch or two, or five. Fenris is very very worried. (Earlier confession than in cannon) First chapter POV Hawke, second chapter POV Fenris.

Chapter 1: The New Champion

Chapter Text

Hawke felt her heart pounding in her chest. Sweat beaded on her temple and some of the strands of dark curls plastered themselves to her forehead. She gripped the hilt of her sword with two hands, knuckles white. Hawke looked up at the Arishok unwaveringly, both of them panting from the exertion. 

She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to kill him. But she also wasn’t ready to part with Isabela. Hawke had initially dreamed of throttling her, but with how exhausted she was now, she’d have to hope Aveline would pummel her enough for the both of them. 

The Arishok regained his breath and swung his axe. Hawke ducked under and came up, sweeping the leg with her blade, leaving a vertical trail of crimson on his calf. He roared and swatted Hawke from behind, sending her sprawling forward. She regained the surprise quickly and tucked into a somersault, landing on her feet. The Arishock lunged again and Hawke blocked with her sword causing a sharp pain to radiate down her arm at the sudden force. She held, but barely. Her biceps began to tremble. Not only was the Arishok stronger than her, but he had swung down. Hawke was fighting against gravity. 

She was in the middle of planning an escape from the lock when the Arishock kicked her hard in the stomach. Hawke surprised herself by only stumbling back and digging her heels in the floor. She spit out a mouth full of blood, her stomach aching furiously. She turned back abruptly, swinging her sword and stabbing the Arishok’s eye. 

But he had seen the move coming. 

As Hawke’s sword swung high, the Arichock cut down low. She had tried to back up too late and the axe head sliced across her abdomen. She cried out and turned on heel to run behind the pillars. The Arishok attempted to head her off, but Hawke was too quick and dropped low as the axe narrowly missed her skull, embedding deep in the column. When he pulled the shaft, the weapon didn’t budge. He couldn’t retrieve it. She was ready to take advantage of her opponent's disarm, but before she could swing, the Arishok grabbed her chainmail collar. He bashed his horned head against her head and tossed her like a rag doll. 

Hawke smacked into the opposite pillar. Her leg crumpled in the wrong direction and the pop of her knee cap vibrated in her teeth. The large room was spinning and blood was dripping hot and fast down her temple. She pulled herself on her elbow and the world lurched violently, so she let go. Everything seemed muted. Hawke glanced behind her to see the Arishok still struggling to free his axe. She turned back, attempting to sit up again and her eyes scanned the crowd and halted on a glowing elf. Fenris. 

He was screaming at her. Aveline and Varric were physically restraining him as he continued to bellow, but she was two dazed to make out much of his muffled shouts. Isabela stood beside an anxious expression on her face. She looked back at Fenris, fear and concern engulfed his large green eyes. Hawke wasn’t sure she’d ever forget that look. Green eyes, pure and utter terror. This time she heard him. 

“Hawke, get up! Get up! Behind you!!!” He shrieked. Hawke looked behind and rolled on the ground to the side away from the column, just in time as the Arishok’s axe cracked the stone floor where she had previously laid. Hawke focused on the pain. Her knee throbbing in time with her heartbeat, her head pounding, the sting of her abdomen, the ache in her back. She focused on it, channelled it and swiped at the Arishok. 

She clean severed his achilles tendon. His foot gave and he dropped to one knee. Hawke stood and tried to ignore the spinning. She prepared an onslaught of fast strikes. The Arishok’s expression contorted as he backed up on defence. The clangs reverberated in Hawke’s pounding skull. She picked up the pace. Faster. The Arishok couldn’t keep up. After several more perries, he gave her an opening. She plunged her blade into his chest with both hands and wrenched it out. 

His axe fell to the ground with a clutter and he stumbled back, falling. He scrambled back to the base of the stairs. The Arishok looked up at Hawke. Surprise, relief, anger all flashed through his wide eyes at once. 

“One day, we shall return.” He threatened. And then he went limp. Dead. Hawke was still panting as she turned to another Qunari. He nodded once at her. All the Qunari honoured the duel and walked down the steps, past the Viscount's head and out the door. Only then did Hawke sheath her sword on her back. 

Her friends rushed forward. Varric reached first and guided her hand to his shoulder to use him as a crutch. Fenris hovered on the other side. She limped down the steps, her free hand guarding the wound on her stomach. 

“In the book, I get to walk away sparkling clean, no effort exerted right?” Hawke joked meekly. Varric laughed. 

“Two injuries?” He bargained. 

“I’ll let you write one,” 

“Only if it’s the stomach, because that’s the worst and most dramatic.” 

“Deal,” They chuckled. Meredith and Orsino stormed in. Both scanned the scene of Hawke struggling down the steps, in front of the Arishok's body. 

“So it’s over?” Meredith asked hopefully. 

“It’s over.” Hawke confirmed. The crowd erupted in cheer and applause that made Hawke’s headache worse. She was glad she’d saved everyone, but killing the Arishok didn’t feel like a victory. She glanced solemnly over her shoulder at the bloody Arishok slumped on the steps. Fenris gently placed his hand on the crook of her elbow in an attempt to comfort. She accepted it gratefully, feeling his thumb caress her skin. It didn’t stop the ugly feeling worming around in her chest, but she appreciated the gesture. 

“Well done,” Meredith finally said, sheathing her sword. “It appears Kirkwall has a new champion.” Hawke didn’t feel like a champion. In fact, she felt queasy and her mouth was still coated in copper and her whole body hurt in one way or another. And Meredith’s declaration had only made the crowd scream louder. She leaned down to Varric’s ear. 

“Can we just get the hell out of here?” She asked. Varric didn’t need to be asked twice. 

“You are correct, Lady Knight Commander. She is a champion indeed. This Champion is in need of some medical attention. We’ll sort things out in, say, a week's time? I think saving the city is deserving of a little rest. Alright, thank you, goodbye!” Varric said with Hawke still leaning on him and they were out the door before Meredith could object. 

As if the small impact accumulated, Hawke felt worse with each step. More nauseous, more dizzy. More shitty. Even while putting more than half her weight on the sturdy dwarf’s shoulder, her dislocated knee protested. When they reached the familiar streets of Hightown, Varric sat her down at the base of a staircase, telling her to rest, his eyes clouded in concern. 

“You greedy fucking bitch!” Aveline cursed. Isabela nodded. 

“Yes, yes to all of that, but I came back,” 

“Thanks, Ravaini, you did the bare minimum act of decency.” Varric glowered. Hawke hadn’t seen Varric this riled up since Batrand. 

“I came back! That’s what should matter,” Isabela insisted. Fenris scoffed.

“Congratulations for not letting an entire city along with all of your friends burn. You want a cookie?” Hawke shivered and Fenris almost instinctively walked toward her, but paused awkwardly. She wished he hadn’t stopped. 

“Fuck you all,” Isabela yelled. “I should have never come back,” 

“Are you kidding me!?” Aveline pushed Isabela’s shoulder. “Sure, that’s the way to prove you’ve bettered yourself,” 

“Hawke nearly died for you!” Varric said. 

“I didn’t make Hawke fight the Arishok for me!” 

“That is true,” Hawke admitted. Isabela scowled at her on the steps. 

“You’re just going to sit there while they hurdle insults at me?! What kind of friend are you then?” 

“Well, I’m certainly not the friend...who stole a sacred tome...launching a Qunari invasion.” Her breathing was heavier, forcing her to pause throughout her sentence, to ensure airflow in her lungs. An upturned merchant cart was ablaze beside them. Hawke scooted closer to the warmth, muttering a silent prayer to the Maker that the owner had been able to escape. 

“Well fuck you too, Hawke!” 

“Don’t yell at her!” Varric yelled. “After what she did for you! If this is how you act, Maker, she should have handed you to the Arishok!” Isabela raised a hand to smack the dwarf. Hawke was in front of Varric in an instant, leaving a bloody smear on the stone steps. She held an ironclad grip around Isabela’s wrist. 

“I’ll talk to you when you’ve cooled down. Until then, go away.” Hawke spoke coolly. Isabela swallowed before wrenching her wrist free and stalking off into the night. Hawke’s side screamed at the sudden movement and before she could call for assistance, the ground was rushing up to meet her. 

“Hawke!” Varric, Fenris, and Aveline chorused. Fenris’ strong arms had caught her before she’d hit the cement. She struggled to keep her eyes open as he cradled her. Varric and Aveline desperately dug through the leather bag and retrieved a bottle of red liquid. Fenris propped up Hawke’s head as Varric tilted the bottle back. Hawke coughed and sputtered a mixture of the red health potion and a darker crimson. 

“We have to get her to Anders,” Aveline said. 

“If he still lives,” Fenris frowned.  

“Blondie’s resourceful.” Hawke braced herself for Fenris’ inevitable argument about magic. To her surprise he was silent. He looked down at Hawke in his arms. She stared into his dazzling emerald eyes. If she focused on them and how pretty they were, maybe she wouldn’t listen to the weights attached to her lids. 

“We must hurry,” Fenris said, picking Hawke up, one hand under her shoulder blades and the other slid under her hamstrings. She hissed at the shift in position and Fenris winced in sympathy. 

Hawke noticed how he slowed his pace depending on her indications of pain. But after a while, Hawke didn’t even think she had the strength to cry out. The blood seeped through her fingers at a steady pace. She frowned, realising she was staining Fenris’ breast plate. She made a vain attempt to wipe it away, only trailing more blood in its place. She gave up and let her head lull against his chest. 

The edges of her vision were dark and her eyelids were so heavy. Fenris jostled her lightly. “Hawke, stay with me!” He begged. But Hawke was tired. The Arishok were dead, the Qunari were leaving, the city was safe, her friends were safe. Fenris was safe. So she didn’t feel too guilty when she gave into the peaceful darkness behind her lids.

Chapter 2: Future to Be Had

Summary:

Fenris is worried about Hawke and early confession!

Chapter Text

When Hawke slumped in his arms, Fenris broke into a sprint. His legs pumped past the bodies, debris, and fires. He hustled past the crying survivors embracing and praying at every turn in Darktown.  

The only moment he even thought to slow down was when he nearly plowed right through the door to Anders’ clinic. Not wanting to hurt Hawke further, he turned his sprint to a jog, Aveline and Varric quickly pushing the doors open for him. 

“Mage!” He demanded. Anders was fixing a sling on a little girl when he glanced up. His face paled as he saw Fenris carrying a bloody mangled Hawke. Anders nearly leapt to them. He lifted Hawke’s hand that guarded her stomach, wincing at the sight of her wound. He walked them to the direction of an open cot. Fenris gingerly laid her down, prying off her armour so Anders would be unobstructed. The crimson seeped faster. “Well?”

“I don’t know! Give me a minute.” Anders snapped, his hand a glow, hovering over Hawke’s abdomen. Fenris studied his expression carefully and didn’t like what he saw. He remained silent, allowing the Healer to do his work. “Get me the surgical supplies on the table over there. Varric, alcohol.” Fenris and Aveline hurried to get the tray of scalpels and bandages. 

Fenris watched with intensity for a long time when Hawke stirred and cried out. Anders tried to soothe her, but as soon as he poured the alcohol for disinfectant she shrieked and Aveline had to hold her down. 

“She just tore the stitch, Fenris put pressure on it! Now!” He didn’t have to be told twice, pressing down hard on the bandage over her stomach. The whimper she let out made his heart shudder. She clutched his wrist. 

“Hawke, look at me.” She whined softly and locked her eyes with his “Focus. It’s gonna be okay. You’re going to be fine.” Fenris wasn’t sure if he was demanding that toward himself, Hawke, or whatever deity was watching. The distraction gave enough time for Anders to administer a sedative. He felt the pressure on his arm slack and he backed up. 

Anders didn’t stop for a moment, but Fenris had to turn away. He knew if he stayed a moment longer, the others would see the tears streaming down his cheeks. If Hawke died for Isabella, Fenris would kill her. 

Through all this, his selfishness was apparent. He could only think of the night he’d left her in bed. Her pleading face. The twisted expression she wore when she looked at mages in chains, or poor people on the streets. The sweet pained expression of empathy, compassion concocted with the wanting, the longing to fix it. To change it. To help. Hawke had wanted to help him, but he’d walked away. Now she was fighting for her life and the fear gripped his chest. 

The fear he’d never be able to tell her how much he regretted. 

How every second on his walk home that night, he’d forced himself not to turn back. How everyday he wished he could touch her hair or hug her. Or make her laugh. Or rather make Varric make her laugh. 

He looked at his hands, crimson, with her blood. They trembled. Hawke’s blood. He squeezed his eyes shut praying, begging, to the universe not to do this. Hawke had just saved the city and Isabella, though she’d hardly deserved it. It couldn’t end like this. 

“C’mon, elf. What’d Hawke say to you if she saw you like this” Varric asked, but his tone was uncharacteristically flat. He and Hawke were best friends, of course he was worried. Varric pushed a basin of water forward and held a towel. Fenris swallowed and put his hands in. He scrubbed and scrubbed until his fingers turned pink and not crimson, not even a speck remained under his nails. 

“Thank you.” He said. 

“Oh no, now I know you’re taking this hard.” They both breathed a laugh. “Hawke’s tough as nails.”

“I know.”

“Also, please don’t try to kill Ravaini. At least not until Hawke’s back on her feet and can stop you.” 

“No promises.” Fenris said, but Varric smiled. 

“Varric, Fenris,” Aveline called. “Anders did well. Hawke’s okay. Just resting. I’m sure she’ll want one or the both of you with her when she wakes.” 

“Where are you off too?”

“Now that the Champion isn’t about to die, I have to go to work. Restore the city, try to help rebuild this shit. I’ll notify Gamlen. Keep a good eye on her for me. Send word when she wakes.” Aveline took off and Fenris wiped his face to be sure there was no evidence of his tears. Varric would make a lot of jokes in private, but he’d not reveal something like this to anyone else. 

Fenris took a deep breath before going back to see Hawke. She was bandaged in several spots, her armour scattered on the floor. A cotton blanket tucked neatly over her. Anders sighed in relief washing and sanitising his tools. 

“You got her swiftly. You saved her.”

“No. You did.” Fenris said. It was a strange exchange, but a mutual acknowledgement. Both thanks and civility. Anders nodded. 

“I have others to attend to. Many who cannot afford doctors were hurt in the invasion and are forced to turn to me. Let me know if she needs anything.” Fenris nodded and sat down on a broken wooden chair beside Hawke. She breathed slowly, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. Fenris wasn’t sure how long he sat by her. A few hours at least. Varric long since having gone home to figure out how many spies he still had left alive. 

Hawke’s beautiful grey eyes cracked open slightly. It seemed to take a lot of effort to keep them open. When they darted to Fenris, the corner of her mouth pulled up into a smile. She put her hand on top of his. 

“Hey,” She croaked.

“Hey,” 

“Everyone else, okay?” Fenris couldn’t help, but find her selfless concern admirable and obnoxious. 

“They’re fine. How do you feel?”

“Like I got my ass kicked by a guy twice my size.” 

“Fair enough.” He chuckled. He gently squeezed her hand. “I...I’m sorry.”

“For what? Saving me?”

“No! No. I...we never discussed that night.”

“Oh.” She said, “It didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about it.”

“I didn’t. I still don’t, but...if I lost you and I never… I felt like a fool. I thought it better if you hated me. I deserve no less. But it isn’t better.” Fenris took a shaky breath. Waiting for a clue, a sign, an indication he should go on or shut his mouth. She squeezed his hand back and he smiled. “That night...I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I should have asked for your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now.” 

“Why did you leave?” Hawke asked. She wasn’t accusatory, but soft, understanding.

“I’ve thought about the answer a thousand times. The pain. The memories it brought up. It was too much. I was a coward. If I could go back, I’d stay. Tell you how I felt.” 

“What would you have said?” 

“‘Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.’” Fenris awaited, a terror more powerful than he’d ever felt in any battle or even with Denarius. He gazed at her and she broke into a smile. A stunning, beautiful, gorgeous smile, her cheeks tinted red. 

“You idiot.” The words held an impossible amount of fondness. “As if I could resist a line like that.” 

“If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side.” He leaned down in front of her. His fingers sifted through her hair and his palm rested on her cheek. Hawke closed the distance. The kiss was sweet and tender despite the tang of copper and salt from Fenris’ tears. She grinned into it and when they let go, their heads bonked together. “Careful, if you headbutt me like that with your concussion, the future might not be very long after all.” 

Hawke laughed and all the fear, all the uncertainty uncoiled at once with Hawkes perfect squeaky giggle ringing in Fenris’ ears.