Dragon Age 2 AU fic.
Title: I should really be writing something else.
Rating: M. Blood, mentions of relationships etc.
Fandom:Dragon Age 2
Pairing: M!Mage Hawke, Fenris, mentions of everyone else.
Disclaimer:Not mine!
Spoilers: Yes, actually. Based loosely around the events of the game.
Word count: lots.
Notes:
So uh, had an AU idea. I’m just using these to flesh it out, but I think that a lot of the fics I will write in the future will be set here. So, uh. Welcome to the AU! This is the first thirty of the prompts I’m writing. I plan on finishing the others by the end of the weekend and then working on actualfacts fics.
1. Introduction
When he looks at the man, bladed staff slung over his back and a wide smile on his face, he wants to pretend for a moment that the lyrium under his skin isn’t screaming mage. His companions (the woman, the boy and the dwarf) come up behind them and when the mage doesn’t turn to attack him, he narrows his eyes.
“You’re a mage.” He says, and the taller man nods, the smile sliding off his face, eyes narrowing for a moment.
“I feel as if I should apologise for existing. Do you get that often?”
Despite himself, he feels the beginnings of a smile. He raises an eyebrow instead.
“You’d be surprised.”
2. Love
He was never allowed the luxury of love; Denarius would tap the syringe and the lyrium would slide under his skin, making him scream and thrash and cry for the family he couldn’t remember, the friends who abandoned him and his own life, lost to the feel of the magic under his skin.
Garret taps a syringe, the tetanus shot heavy in his hands and Fenris sits up straight, offers his arm and lets out a breath as the needle slides in.
3. Light
Anything Garret might have said fell straight off his tongue when he realized that this strange elf’s skin was glowing, the whorls and lines tracing right up to his face. The fake guard drops and he swallows, the lump in his throat refusing to move as his hand goes for his staff automatically, the bladed edge gleaming in the dull light the elf was giving off. It didn’t occur to him to go for his gun. He’d seen how useful they were against a guy who could shove his hand into your -chest-.
“I’m Fenris,” the elf says, and Garret lets the blade point towards the floor, fingers loose and eyes wide.
4. Dark
“You know, that whole glowing thing you do would be useful right about now.” Garret’s only joking but Fenris raises a hand, illuminating the rusty steel beams overhead. He closes amber eyes for a moment, adjusting to the light and smiling brightly when Fenris just sighs.
“Neat trick.”
“Don’t get used to it. I just want to find Denarius.”
5. Seeking Solace
Fenris seeks solace in a bottle the same way Isabela seeks solace in sex, Sebastian seeks solace in religion and Garret seeks solace in family. The wine tastes almost as bitter as the regret on the back of his tongue, watching Garret move in the low light, hands working at the bench, knife flashing as he cuts meat to put in the pan.
“How do you do it?” He asks, and at Garret’s bewildered look he waves a hand, half drunk and all tired. “This. How do you do all this?”
The smile on the mage’s face is brittle and sharp. “If I don’t, who will?”
Fenris doesn’t have an answer for that. He does, however, pour him a glass of wine.
6. Break Away
It takes everything he has to walk out that door and not look back. He doesn’t stop until he’s down the end of the street, sidewalk cold against his feet and missing his jacket; he’d left it back on Garret’s chair, thrown haphazardly across his shirt.
He presses a palm against his forehead, shoulders shuddering once before he drops his arm and keeps on walking.
7. Heaven
Sebastian is pious in the same way that most people are breathing. It shows the most when they’re in the Chantry, waiting for him to finish listening to confession. Garret looks vaguely uncomfortable (being an Apostate might have something to do with that) but the incense, the calm and the light streaming through the stained glass windows relaxes Fenris in a way he hasn’t felt since he closed the door behind himself and walked out into the night.
8. Innocence
It’s as if she doesn’t understand what she’s doing. “I can stop any time I want,” she says. “I have it under control.”
“That’s what every addict says.” Varric mutters, grumbling to Fenris as he stares into his beer.
“You need help.” Garret sounds worried. Fenris can imagine the hand he has on Merrill’s shoulder. He can’t bring himself to look.
9. Drive
“You do know how to drive, right?” Varric asks, bundling Garret into the back seat. He’s bleeding from a rather alarming amount of holes in his chest and Fenris turns the key to the ignition violently, the truck sputtering to life. Varric climbs into the back with Hawke, Aveline climbing in the other side and pressing her hand against the hole in his shoulder, her face ashen.
“Never a better time to learn.”
10. Breathe Again
Hospital chairs are designed to make life difficult for people. The hard plastic is the most uncomfortable surface on the planet. Fenris has been up and pacing for hours, the lyrium under his skin making it difficult for him to keep control. What use is everything that’s happened if Hawke dies thanks to a fucking -punk kid-; a blood mage, too scared to keep from shooting?
Leandra doesn’t say a word as Carver slides an arm over her shoulders, and when Aveline sits down on her other side, she stares at the blood on the captain’s shirt like it’s a snake. Varric is up at the nurses’ station, sorting paperwork so Leandra doesn’t have to.
“Leandra?” Anders. Anders had better have done something right or Fenris was going to rip his head from his neck and shove it into his chest cavity. “He’s going to be okay.”
If anyone sees Fenris slump against the wall in relief, they don’t mention it.
11. Memory
He’s been sitting in front of the fire for an hour, remembered touches curling along his spine, wineglass heavy in his hand. Garret’s asleep in the only armchair he owns, head thrown back, snoring softly. The blanket Fenris slid onto him has fallen to his waist and the scar on his shoulder (bullet wound) and the one on his arm (blade slice) stand out in stark relief on his skin.
Fenris wishes he couldn’t remember the exact moments both those wounds happened in excruciating detail.
12. Insanity
Anders is rambling on about the plight of mages; how the Circle is being manipulated by the Templars and how the Templars are just a glorified special branch of the Kirkwall Police Department and how the powers that be are out to destroy mages once and for all. He’s been ranting about this for an hour, all the while getting angrier and angrier, his eyes getting brighter and brighter. It looks like his skin is coming apart at the edges, like he’s slowly cracking under the pressure.
He looks up from his rant to see Merrill, working away in the corner of her mirror (who knows what that is, what drug addicts do in their spare time) and his new cat (Trouble), white and grey with black splodges. His apartment is a shambles, his credentials hung crooked on the wall, his books on Magic and Forensics, Analytical Healing and Searching Souls piled on the benchtop next to day old toast.
He wonders when he stopped caring about the actual living part and just went straight to the dying.
13. Misfortune
Sebastian would have said it wasn’t misfortune, just a trial given to him by the Maker. He was busy at service, so Garret felt justified in ignoring what he would’ve said in favour of swearing at Isabela and trying to win his pants back.
“Face it, Hawke. You’re a failure at Wicked Grace,” Varric says, laughing into his beer. The little bastard has the temerity to still be fully dressed. Fenris has that strange half smile on his face, the one that makes sitting there in his boxers with Isabela slipping his jeans on over her leggings strangely bearable. Merrill’s wearing his shirt and Anders has his boots, the kitten flopping in one and the other being used to hold down a sheaf of paper.
“If you lot would stop -cheating-.” He rolls his eyes at them and hides a smile, happy with the way they laugh.
14. Smile
They’re sprawled out on the couch, floor and armchairs when Fenris first sees it. Varric’s stolen the popcorn off Isabela, who’s using Sebastian as a launching board to get at him, missing completely and hitting Merill instead. Merill’s laughing, hiding half behind Anders and half hugging Isabela and Garret’s got this smile on his face, like there’s nowhere else he wants to be in the world. Like this is the only thing that matters. The spilled playing cards are scattered around their feet, Anders’ kitten is trying to get out of the cereal box it’d claimed as its own whilst still rolling about in Aveline’s lap, Flynn is sprawled over Garret’s legs; the blankets are tangled between them all, twisted out of shape.
Fenris reaches his hand down, watching the smile brighten into a supernova as he slides his fingers against his, just for a second.
15. Silence
It’s the silence that speaks the loudest.
“Well? Are you?” Anders asks, fury colouring his words and sending his eyes to blazing. Garret holds his ground, arms crossed and jaw tight. The cut over his eye is still bleeding, a streak of red sliding down his jaw.
The Templar behind them is struggling to breathe and Fenris knows that if Garret breaks eye contact they’re going to lose him. Anders won’t hesitate. Isabela makes a noise and Garret just stares, muscle working in his jaw as Anders falters, the fury on his face giving way to anger, then to confusion as the glow retreats from his eyes.
“What have I done?”
Garret doesn’t answer him.
16. Questioning
“Am I doing the right thing?” Hawke asks, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t expect an answer; Leandra is out, Carver is busy with his new Templar work and Gamlen’s long gone, drinking and hanging out at the Rose. Flynn rolls around on his back, the dog wriggling until he’s comfortable and sprawled in front of the fire, the warm tiles under his back.
“What am I going to do if I fail?”
“How can I keep everyone alive?”
“Why does it all hurt so much?”
“When am I going to get over myself?”
17. Blood
He sticks his hand through her chest. It seems to happen in slow motion; one moment Hadriana is breathing and the next she’s not. He can feel her blood sliding over his fingers, her magic ebbing out of her body and into the ground, setting the Lyrium under his skin to burning.
Hawke makes the mistake of touching him.
“Get away from me.” He snarls whirling and shoving his bloody hand against his shirt. Garret raises his arms, international sign of supplication and it just makes him angrier, that the mage has no idea what he feels, what he’s going through. What the feel of her magic does to his memory, to his skin. How sick it makes him.
“Look, we’ve got to get out of here, before-“
“There is NOTHING magic touches that it doesn’t destroy.” He says, the hurt look that flashes over the man’s face making the anger turn to fire in his throat. “Leave her body here to rot.”
He doesn’t look back as he stalks out of the warehouse and Garret doesn’t chase him.
18. Rainbow
“Ooh, look!” Merill’s leaning over the roof of the truck, legs braced against the flatbed as they drive up the long, winding road to Sundermount. A rainbow curves just over the horizon and Isabela snorts, waving a hand and flicking water from her bottle into the air. The water catches the light, a hundred tiny rainbows reflected in each droplet as they rain around them, a wide smile on her face.
“Anyone can do that, Kitten.”
19. Gray
He doesn’t know what to say. Garret looks gray, like all the blood has drained out of his face, along with expression. He’s just staring at the wall, book long forgotten in his hand and Fenris panics, just for a second. Garret’s a mage, there’s always a chance that-
It’s gone in a moment, the world seeming to breathe again and Fenris catches a glimpse of an old photograph (a little girl’s smile) and a pressed flower as Garret slides the book closed.
20. Fortitude
The Arishok staggers, Garret’s blade slung with lightning sticking out of his ribs. The silence in city hall is deafening, the mage’s panting heavy and hot as he locks his knees and hopes nobody realises how badly he’s shaking.
It’s not until four months later that he hears the story told by Varric, and how he stood strong and firm over the body of a foe he would have liked to have the chance to call a friend.
21. Vacation
After the expedition (Leandra and Carver had words and Carver finally fell out from under his shadow, good for him) and after they’d bought a new house (old house) in Hightown, Garret piled his mother, his dog and himself into his truck (which he was staunchly refusing to get rid of) and drove them all up to the mountains.
It wasn’t much of a vacation, camping out the back of his truck, but it was theirs.
22. Mother Nature
Garret didn’t use his magic often. He preferred his knives and staff, and if in a pinch, a gun. Fenris thought this was because he wasn’t very good at it, the only spells he’d done in his presence having been basic fireballs or heat spells.
The lightning rained down and for all that it was -everywhere-, it never touched them. The slavers twitched and writhed on the ground, eyeballs exploding and teeth arching with electricity and Fenris could swear he saw Garret’s eyes flash white, fire and lightning arcing between his fingers, sparks coming from the corner of his mouth as he lowered his arms and shuddered.
23. Cat
“Dwarves eat cats, you know.” Trouble had taken a particular interest in Varric. More specifically his chest hair. Aveline managed to keep a straight face for all of three seconds before laughing, Isabela waving a hand and scooping the kitten up before Varric could pretend to take a bite out of its head. Anders made a grab for the kitten and missed, his hands smacking into Varric’s mouth instead, fingers skittering along his teeth.
“You bit me!”
“You stuck your fingers in my mouth!” They sprang apart, Varric wiping at his mouth, Anders shaking his hand and Aveline laughing so hard she fell off her chair, thunking onto her back, howling as Isabela cooed at the cat.
24. No Time
He moves before he realises he’ s doing it, blade slicing up through ribs and gun skittering to the side. There’s no time to think, no time to wonder what’d happen if Fenris wasn’t expecting him to be there to cover him, but all the elf does is nod and press his back against his, lyrium tattoos glowing.
“How many more?” Garret asks, fire dancing over his fingers as Fenris does a quick headcount.
“A few.” He says, the corner of his mouth quirking up at the mage’s irritated snort.
“That’s not a proper number, Fenris.”
25. Trouble Lurking
Trouble was aptly named.
26. Tears
Garret doesn’t cry. It’s the thing that strikes Fenris when they find her, face on another woman’s body, hands not her own. He slides to his knees cradling her but he doesn’t cry, doesn’t shake. He’s stone, immovable and mute, head bowed as she listens to her last, dying words.
“I’m proud of you.” Garret’s shoulders tense. He musters up a smile. It’s shaky, querulous and sad all at once, the line of his jaw tense and eyes blank.
She breathes out; her eyes still open and the soft, proud look still on her face.
27. Foreign
Her badge is shiny, her hair red and her freckles stand out like splotches of ink on paper, the weight of responsibility, worry and the trust of an entire city resting on her shoulders.
Aveline feels utterly lost. She’s Fereldan first and foremost, welcome nowhere and wanted elsewhere, standing as Captain of the Kirkwall Police Force, as a representative of the city and her office is so empty it’s hard to breathe.
28. Sorrow
Sometimes, Isabela looks out at the sea.
29. Happiness
“’s too hot.”
Fenris moves his arm and Garret grumbles some more, wriggling until he’s further down on the bed, his head pushing against the smaller man’s chest.
“This isn’t helping with the being too hot problem, you realise?” He asks. Garret just presses his face against his skin until Fenris slides a hand into his hair.
“Stop with your logic.” Garret’s all angles and elbows, sleep warm and scruffy. It really is too hot; the blanket’s on the floor, the windows wide open and what little breeze they have is peppered with the scent of summer.
Neither of them move.
30. Under the Rain
“She’s dancing, isn’t she.” It’s not a question. Varric just nods, and Sebastian forces himself not to look out the window. What with the whole it being a mortal sin to lust after someone thing, and watching Isabela dance with Merill in the rain ranks up there with thou shalt not kick someone in the face unless they really, really deserve it.
He chances a glance out of the corner of his eye and Varric forces himself not to laugh, instead going back to his beer and magazine as Sebastian loses all thread of conversation, watching the girls spin in sodden circles.
Rating: M. Blood, mentions of relationships etc.
Fandom:Dragon Age 2
Pairing: M!Mage Hawke, Fenris, mentions of everyone else.
Disclaimer:Not mine!
Spoilers: Yes, actually. Based loosely around the events of the game.
Word count: lots.
Notes:
So uh, had an AU idea. I’m just using these to flesh it out, but I think that a lot of the fics I will write in the future will be set here. So, uh. Welcome to the AU! This is the first thirty of the prompts I’m writing. I plan on finishing the others by the end of the weekend and then working on actualfacts fics.
1. Introduction
When he looks at the man, bladed staff slung over his back and a wide smile on his face, he wants to pretend for a moment that the lyrium under his skin isn’t screaming mage. His companions (the woman, the boy and the dwarf) come up behind them and when the mage doesn’t turn to attack him, he narrows his eyes.
“You’re a mage.” He says, and the taller man nods, the smile sliding off his face, eyes narrowing for a moment.
“I feel as if I should apologise for existing. Do you get that often?”
Despite himself, he feels the beginnings of a smile. He raises an eyebrow instead.
“You’d be surprised.”
2. Love
He was never allowed the luxury of love; Denarius would tap the syringe and the lyrium would slide under his skin, making him scream and thrash and cry for the family he couldn’t remember, the friends who abandoned him and his own life, lost to the feel of the magic under his skin.
Garret taps a syringe, the tetanus shot heavy in his hands and Fenris sits up straight, offers his arm and lets out a breath as the needle slides in.
3. Light
Anything Garret might have said fell straight off his tongue when he realized that this strange elf’s skin was glowing, the whorls and lines tracing right up to his face. The fake guard drops and he swallows, the lump in his throat refusing to move as his hand goes for his staff automatically, the bladed edge gleaming in the dull light the elf was giving off. It didn’t occur to him to go for his gun. He’d seen how useful they were against a guy who could shove his hand into your -chest-.
“I’m Fenris,” the elf says, and Garret lets the blade point towards the floor, fingers loose and eyes wide.
4. Dark
“You know, that whole glowing thing you do would be useful right about now.” Garret’s only joking but Fenris raises a hand, illuminating the rusty steel beams overhead. He closes amber eyes for a moment, adjusting to the light and smiling brightly when Fenris just sighs.
“Neat trick.”
“Don’t get used to it. I just want to find Denarius.”
5. Seeking Solace
Fenris seeks solace in a bottle the same way Isabela seeks solace in sex, Sebastian seeks solace in religion and Garret seeks solace in family. The wine tastes almost as bitter as the regret on the back of his tongue, watching Garret move in the low light, hands working at the bench, knife flashing as he cuts meat to put in the pan.
“How do you do it?” He asks, and at Garret’s bewildered look he waves a hand, half drunk and all tired. “This. How do you do all this?”
The smile on the mage’s face is brittle and sharp. “If I don’t, who will?”
Fenris doesn’t have an answer for that. He does, however, pour him a glass of wine.
6. Break Away
It takes everything he has to walk out that door and not look back. He doesn’t stop until he’s down the end of the street, sidewalk cold against his feet and missing his jacket; he’d left it back on Garret’s chair, thrown haphazardly across his shirt.
He presses a palm against his forehead, shoulders shuddering once before he drops his arm and keeps on walking.
7. Heaven
Sebastian is pious in the same way that most people are breathing. It shows the most when they’re in the Chantry, waiting for him to finish listening to confession. Garret looks vaguely uncomfortable (being an Apostate might have something to do with that) but the incense, the calm and the light streaming through the stained glass windows relaxes Fenris in a way he hasn’t felt since he closed the door behind himself and walked out into the night.
8. Innocence
It’s as if she doesn’t understand what she’s doing. “I can stop any time I want,” she says. “I have it under control.”
“That’s what every addict says.” Varric mutters, grumbling to Fenris as he stares into his beer.
“You need help.” Garret sounds worried. Fenris can imagine the hand he has on Merrill’s shoulder. He can’t bring himself to look.
9. Drive
“You do know how to drive, right?” Varric asks, bundling Garret into the back seat. He’s bleeding from a rather alarming amount of holes in his chest and Fenris turns the key to the ignition violently, the truck sputtering to life. Varric climbs into the back with Hawke, Aveline climbing in the other side and pressing her hand against the hole in his shoulder, her face ashen.
“Never a better time to learn.”
10. Breathe Again
Hospital chairs are designed to make life difficult for people. The hard plastic is the most uncomfortable surface on the planet. Fenris has been up and pacing for hours, the lyrium under his skin making it difficult for him to keep control. What use is everything that’s happened if Hawke dies thanks to a fucking -punk kid-; a blood mage, too scared to keep from shooting?
Leandra doesn’t say a word as Carver slides an arm over her shoulders, and when Aveline sits down on her other side, she stares at the blood on the captain’s shirt like it’s a snake. Varric is up at the nurses’ station, sorting paperwork so Leandra doesn’t have to.
“Leandra?” Anders. Anders had better have done something right or Fenris was going to rip his head from his neck and shove it into his chest cavity. “He’s going to be okay.”
If anyone sees Fenris slump against the wall in relief, they don’t mention it.
11. Memory
He’s been sitting in front of the fire for an hour, remembered touches curling along his spine, wineglass heavy in his hand. Garret’s asleep in the only armchair he owns, head thrown back, snoring softly. The blanket Fenris slid onto him has fallen to his waist and the scar on his shoulder (bullet wound) and the one on his arm (blade slice) stand out in stark relief on his skin.
Fenris wishes he couldn’t remember the exact moments both those wounds happened in excruciating detail.
12. Insanity
Anders is rambling on about the plight of mages; how the Circle is being manipulated by the Templars and how the Templars are just a glorified special branch of the Kirkwall Police Department and how the powers that be are out to destroy mages once and for all. He’s been ranting about this for an hour, all the while getting angrier and angrier, his eyes getting brighter and brighter. It looks like his skin is coming apart at the edges, like he’s slowly cracking under the pressure.
He looks up from his rant to see Merrill, working away in the corner of her mirror (who knows what that is, what drug addicts do in their spare time) and his new cat (Trouble), white and grey with black splodges. His apartment is a shambles, his credentials hung crooked on the wall, his books on Magic and Forensics, Analytical Healing and Searching Souls piled on the benchtop next to day old toast.
He wonders when he stopped caring about the actual living part and just went straight to the dying.
13. Misfortune
Sebastian would have said it wasn’t misfortune, just a trial given to him by the Maker. He was busy at service, so Garret felt justified in ignoring what he would’ve said in favour of swearing at Isabela and trying to win his pants back.
“Face it, Hawke. You’re a failure at Wicked Grace,” Varric says, laughing into his beer. The little bastard has the temerity to still be fully dressed. Fenris has that strange half smile on his face, the one that makes sitting there in his boxers with Isabela slipping his jeans on over her leggings strangely bearable. Merrill’s wearing his shirt and Anders has his boots, the kitten flopping in one and the other being used to hold down a sheaf of paper.
“If you lot would stop -cheating-.” He rolls his eyes at them and hides a smile, happy with the way they laugh.
14. Smile
They’re sprawled out on the couch, floor and armchairs when Fenris first sees it. Varric’s stolen the popcorn off Isabela, who’s using Sebastian as a launching board to get at him, missing completely and hitting Merill instead. Merill’s laughing, hiding half behind Anders and half hugging Isabela and Garret’s got this smile on his face, like there’s nowhere else he wants to be in the world. Like this is the only thing that matters. The spilled playing cards are scattered around their feet, Anders’ kitten is trying to get out of the cereal box it’d claimed as its own whilst still rolling about in Aveline’s lap, Flynn is sprawled over Garret’s legs; the blankets are tangled between them all, twisted out of shape.
Fenris reaches his hand down, watching the smile brighten into a supernova as he slides his fingers against his, just for a second.
15. Silence
It’s the silence that speaks the loudest.
“Well? Are you?” Anders asks, fury colouring his words and sending his eyes to blazing. Garret holds his ground, arms crossed and jaw tight. The cut over his eye is still bleeding, a streak of red sliding down his jaw.
The Templar behind them is struggling to breathe and Fenris knows that if Garret breaks eye contact they’re going to lose him. Anders won’t hesitate. Isabela makes a noise and Garret just stares, muscle working in his jaw as Anders falters, the fury on his face giving way to anger, then to confusion as the glow retreats from his eyes.
“What have I done?”
Garret doesn’t answer him.
16. Questioning
“Am I doing the right thing?” Hawke asks, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t expect an answer; Leandra is out, Carver is busy with his new Templar work and Gamlen’s long gone, drinking and hanging out at the Rose. Flynn rolls around on his back, the dog wriggling until he’s comfortable and sprawled in front of the fire, the warm tiles under his back.
“What am I going to do if I fail?”
“How can I keep everyone alive?”
“Why does it all hurt so much?”
“When am I going to get over myself?”
17. Blood
He sticks his hand through her chest. It seems to happen in slow motion; one moment Hadriana is breathing and the next she’s not. He can feel her blood sliding over his fingers, her magic ebbing out of her body and into the ground, setting the Lyrium under his skin to burning.
Hawke makes the mistake of touching him.
“Get away from me.” He snarls whirling and shoving his bloody hand against his shirt. Garret raises his arms, international sign of supplication and it just makes him angrier, that the mage has no idea what he feels, what he’s going through. What the feel of her magic does to his memory, to his skin. How sick it makes him.
“Look, we’ve got to get out of here, before-“
“There is NOTHING magic touches that it doesn’t destroy.” He says, the hurt look that flashes over the man’s face making the anger turn to fire in his throat. “Leave her body here to rot.”
He doesn’t look back as he stalks out of the warehouse and Garret doesn’t chase him.
18. Rainbow
“Ooh, look!” Merill’s leaning over the roof of the truck, legs braced against the flatbed as they drive up the long, winding road to Sundermount. A rainbow curves just over the horizon and Isabela snorts, waving a hand and flicking water from her bottle into the air. The water catches the light, a hundred tiny rainbows reflected in each droplet as they rain around them, a wide smile on her face.
“Anyone can do that, Kitten.”
19. Gray
He doesn’t know what to say. Garret looks gray, like all the blood has drained out of his face, along with expression. He’s just staring at the wall, book long forgotten in his hand and Fenris panics, just for a second. Garret’s a mage, there’s always a chance that-
It’s gone in a moment, the world seeming to breathe again and Fenris catches a glimpse of an old photograph (a little girl’s smile) and a pressed flower as Garret slides the book closed.
20. Fortitude
The Arishok staggers, Garret’s blade slung with lightning sticking out of his ribs. The silence in city hall is deafening, the mage’s panting heavy and hot as he locks his knees and hopes nobody realises how badly he’s shaking.
It’s not until four months later that he hears the story told by Varric, and how he stood strong and firm over the body of a foe he would have liked to have the chance to call a friend.
21. Vacation
After the expedition (Leandra and Carver had words and Carver finally fell out from under his shadow, good for him) and after they’d bought a new house (old house) in Hightown, Garret piled his mother, his dog and himself into his truck (which he was staunchly refusing to get rid of) and drove them all up to the mountains.
It wasn’t much of a vacation, camping out the back of his truck, but it was theirs.
22. Mother Nature
Garret didn’t use his magic often. He preferred his knives and staff, and if in a pinch, a gun. Fenris thought this was because he wasn’t very good at it, the only spells he’d done in his presence having been basic fireballs or heat spells.
The lightning rained down and for all that it was -everywhere-, it never touched them. The slavers twitched and writhed on the ground, eyeballs exploding and teeth arching with electricity and Fenris could swear he saw Garret’s eyes flash white, fire and lightning arcing between his fingers, sparks coming from the corner of his mouth as he lowered his arms and shuddered.
23. Cat
“Dwarves eat cats, you know.” Trouble had taken a particular interest in Varric. More specifically his chest hair. Aveline managed to keep a straight face for all of three seconds before laughing, Isabela waving a hand and scooping the kitten up before Varric could pretend to take a bite out of its head. Anders made a grab for the kitten and missed, his hands smacking into Varric’s mouth instead, fingers skittering along his teeth.
“You bit me!”
“You stuck your fingers in my mouth!” They sprang apart, Varric wiping at his mouth, Anders shaking his hand and Aveline laughing so hard she fell off her chair, thunking onto her back, howling as Isabela cooed at the cat.
24. No Time
He moves before he realises he’ s doing it, blade slicing up through ribs and gun skittering to the side. There’s no time to think, no time to wonder what’d happen if Fenris wasn’t expecting him to be there to cover him, but all the elf does is nod and press his back against his, lyrium tattoos glowing.
“How many more?” Garret asks, fire dancing over his fingers as Fenris does a quick headcount.
“A few.” He says, the corner of his mouth quirking up at the mage’s irritated snort.
“That’s not a proper number, Fenris.”
25. Trouble Lurking
Trouble was aptly named.
26. Tears
Garret doesn’t cry. It’s the thing that strikes Fenris when they find her, face on another woman’s body, hands not her own. He slides to his knees cradling her but he doesn’t cry, doesn’t shake. He’s stone, immovable and mute, head bowed as she listens to her last, dying words.
“I’m proud of you.” Garret’s shoulders tense. He musters up a smile. It’s shaky, querulous and sad all at once, the line of his jaw tense and eyes blank.
She breathes out; her eyes still open and the soft, proud look still on her face.
27. Foreign
Her badge is shiny, her hair red and her freckles stand out like splotches of ink on paper, the weight of responsibility, worry and the trust of an entire city resting on her shoulders.
Aveline feels utterly lost. She’s Fereldan first and foremost, welcome nowhere and wanted elsewhere, standing as Captain of the Kirkwall Police Force, as a representative of the city and her office is so empty it’s hard to breathe.
28. Sorrow
Sometimes, Isabela looks out at the sea.
29. Happiness
“’s too hot.”
Fenris moves his arm and Garret grumbles some more, wriggling until he’s further down on the bed, his head pushing against the smaller man’s chest.
“This isn’t helping with the being too hot problem, you realise?” He asks. Garret just presses his face against his skin until Fenris slides a hand into his hair.
“Stop with your logic.” Garret’s all angles and elbows, sleep warm and scruffy. It really is too hot; the blanket’s on the floor, the windows wide open and what little breeze they have is peppered with the scent of summer.
Neither of them move.
30. Under the Rain
“She’s dancing, isn’t she.” It’s not a question. Varric just nods, and Sebastian forces himself not to look out the window. What with the whole it being a mortal sin to lust after someone thing, and watching Isabela dance with Merill in the rain ranks up there with thou shalt not kick someone in the face unless they really, really deserve it.
He chances a glance out of the corner of his eye and Varric forces himself not to laugh, instead going back to his beer and magazine as Sebastian loses all thread of conversation, watching the girls spin in sodden circles.