Pity (Dragon Age II)
Pity (Dragon Age II)
Inspired by a prompt on Swooping Is Bad; "Fenris having to deal with his mage!Hawke being made Tranquil"
Rating: PG (some implications of violence, but nothing graphic)
Characters/Pairings: Fenris/Hawke (gender is neutral on Hawke)
Warning(s): Act 3 spoilers for Fenris's sidequests
Nothing makes sense to Fenris right now, and there’s absolutely nothing nobody can tell him that will make things better. He just wants to know who did this, who kidnapped Hawke from his side and ruined him. The elf thought that there may have been a small part of his lover that was already tainted with magic, but this, this hollow shell he just barely discovered, this is too much for him, far too much.
What Fenris is about to do goes against everything he is, but this once, he must make an exception. Some people are worth breaking his own principles for, like he hadn’t broken some already...He’ll do this for the memories he has, the minute details that he still has left to cherish. The crest at his hip and the red scarf tied at his wrist are enough to remind him of the injustice that has been committed against his lover and that is more than enough.
The elf spots the two templars across the courtyard in the Gallows, just as planned. It’s night time, and these templars aren’t on any sort of official business. It’s all too perfect and Fenris would be a fool not to take this chance.
It’s not a crime, it’s for chivalry.
Fair is only fair.
Fenris’s heart races as he approaches the templars, his feet gliding across the rugged stone beneath. Breathe in, breathe out--he has to be calm. Nobody is allowed to see just how blind with rage he is.
Not yet.
“Well you’re...a character to see this late at night. Why aren’t you back in the alienage?” one of the templars scoffs, cocking a thick brow at Fenris. The elf narrows his eyes, swallowing back any venom he has to spew.
“I’m looking for Ser Gerard,” Fenris insists, his voice even.
“That would be me, elf,” the second templar announces. “And what business have you with me?”
Fenris takes in the man’s appearance. He looks as if he has a bit of Rivani in him--unsurprising as many people travel to Kirkwall, perhaps in this case his mother or father. His armor is that of a commanding officer, both made to command respect and too frivolous looking at the same time. Ser Gerard’s greying hair is kept short, accentuating the fine lines on his face. What catches Fenris off-guard, however, is how empty his brown eyes are...
Empty as Hawke’s...
“If you don’t have anything important to say to me, then I suggest you move on,” Ser Gerard insists.
“But, I do have something important to say to you,” Fenris starts, his voice a raspy growl. “I am not one to mince words, so I shall cut to the chase.” The markings on Fenris begin to glow faintly, highlighting his delicate features. “I know what you did.”
Ser Gerard keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword, eyeing the crest at Fenris’s hip. “So it would seem.” He clears his throat as his co-templar reaches for his sword as well. “We had our reasons, elf. The Champion was growing out of control. The templars decided it was best to put an end to things before they escalated. Surely you can agree that the world is better with one less mage, can you not?”
Once, Fenris may have agreed, but that statement rings hollow as his fist ghosts through Ser Gerard’s armor faster than he can stop in. The templar’s emotionless eyes widen in fright as he realizes what Fenris is about to do. He tries to move, to act, but he finds himself paralyzed with fear as the elf leans forward, snarling bitterly.
“You picked the wrong mage. Hawke is caring, compassionate...Wouldn’t harm a fly unless necessary and you just...” Fenris trails off, disgust overcoming his words. “May you rot in hell.”
And just like that, Ser Gerard’s life is ended, and he collapses onto the ground in a metallic heap as Fenris pulls away. The second templar, spineless as he is, still hasn’t pulled out his sword. If Fenris were to know any better, he’d say that this templar was an absolute coward.
“Was compassionate, you meant?” the second templar asks. Fenris shoots him a glare, his teeth gritted as he stomps forward.
“You are not helping your cause!” he snaps, his tattoos glowing once more. The templar holds up his hands, visibly panicking as he shakes his head.
“Don’t hurt me,” the cowardly templar insists. “I promise you, I had absolutely nothing to do with Hawke. I just finished training last week! They wouldn’t have me go on anything like...that. Please believe me.”
Fenris’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’s doing, as if it is all finally hitting him. He jerks away abruptly, taking a glance over at Ser Gerard’s body on the ground, then scrutinizing the templar left. Hawke’s words repeat in his head over and over, how the Champion would always insist that Fenris shouldn’t kill his sister, Varania...an innocent...
This templar has the same look about him, an innocent.
Don’t do this, Fenris. It’s not worth it, says Hawke’s voice in the back of his head. Fenris finds himself being soothed all too fast--it’s a balm that he doesn’t want, yet he can’t turn away from this.
What’s done is done--the man responsible is killed, Fenris reasons. This templar may have witnessed everything, but he’s too much of a coward. There is no way he will report this to his superiors. He supposes on that principle, this templar most certainly had nothing to do with...Hawke.
“Go before I change my mind, templar,” Fenris insists, his tattoos dimming as his rage subsides. The templar doesn’t take long to take his advice, scampering away from the immediate area like a dog with a tail between its legs.
The elf looks up at the statues in the Gallows, dimly lit by moonlight.
And for the first time, he feels sorry for them.
Inspired by a prompt on Swooping Is Bad; "Fenris having to deal with his mage!Hawke being made Tranquil"
Rating: PG (some implications of violence, but nothing graphic)
Characters/Pairings: Fenris/Hawke (gender is neutral on Hawke)
Warning(s): Act 3 spoilers for Fenris's sidequests
Nothing makes sense to Fenris right now, and there’s absolutely nothing nobody can tell him that will make things better. He just wants to know who did this, who kidnapped Hawke from his side and ruined him. The elf thought that there may have been a small part of his lover that was already tainted with magic, but this, this hollow shell he just barely discovered, this is too much for him, far too much.
What Fenris is about to do goes against everything he is, but this once, he must make an exception. Some people are worth breaking his own principles for, like he hadn’t broken some already...He’ll do this for the memories he has, the minute details that he still has left to cherish. The crest at his hip and the red scarf tied at his wrist are enough to remind him of the injustice that has been committed against his lover and that is more than enough.
The elf spots the two templars across the courtyard in the Gallows, just as planned. It’s night time, and these templars aren’t on any sort of official business. It’s all too perfect and Fenris would be a fool not to take this chance.
It’s not a crime, it’s for chivalry.
Fair is only fair.
Fenris’s heart races as he approaches the templars, his feet gliding across the rugged stone beneath. Breathe in, breathe out--he has to be calm. Nobody is allowed to see just how blind with rage he is.
Not yet.
“Well you’re...a character to see this late at night. Why aren’t you back in the alienage?” one of the templars scoffs, cocking a thick brow at Fenris. The elf narrows his eyes, swallowing back any venom he has to spew.
“I’m looking for Ser Gerard,” Fenris insists, his voice even.
“That would be me, elf,” the second templar announces. “And what business have you with me?”
Fenris takes in the man’s appearance. He looks as if he has a bit of Rivani in him--unsurprising as many people travel to Kirkwall, perhaps in this case his mother or father. His armor is that of a commanding officer, both made to command respect and too frivolous looking at the same time. Ser Gerard’s greying hair is kept short, accentuating the fine lines on his face. What catches Fenris off-guard, however, is how empty his brown eyes are...
Empty as Hawke’s...
“If you don’t have anything important to say to me, then I suggest you move on,” Ser Gerard insists.
“But, I do have something important to say to you,” Fenris starts, his voice a raspy growl. “I am not one to mince words, so I shall cut to the chase.” The markings on Fenris begin to glow faintly, highlighting his delicate features. “I know what you did.”
Ser Gerard keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword, eyeing the crest at Fenris’s hip. “So it would seem.” He clears his throat as his co-templar reaches for his sword as well. “We had our reasons, elf. The Champion was growing out of control. The templars decided it was best to put an end to things before they escalated. Surely you can agree that the world is better with one less mage, can you not?”
Once, Fenris may have agreed, but that statement rings hollow as his fist ghosts through Ser Gerard’s armor faster than he can stop in. The templar’s emotionless eyes widen in fright as he realizes what Fenris is about to do. He tries to move, to act, but he finds himself paralyzed with fear as the elf leans forward, snarling bitterly.
“You picked the wrong mage. Hawke is caring, compassionate...Wouldn’t harm a fly unless necessary and you just...” Fenris trails off, disgust overcoming his words. “May you rot in hell.”
And just like that, Ser Gerard’s life is ended, and he collapses onto the ground in a metallic heap as Fenris pulls away. The second templar, spineless as he is, still hasn’t pulled out his sword. If Fenris were to know any better, he’d say that this templar was an absolute coward.
“Was compassionate, you meant?” the second templar asks. Fenris shoots him a glare, his teeth gritted as he stomps forward.
“You are not helping your cause!” he snaps, his tattoos glowing once more. The templar holds up his hands, visibly panicking as he shakes his head.
“Don’t hurt me,” the cowardly templar insists. “I promise you, I had absolutely nothing to do with Hawke. I just finished training last week! They wouldn’t have me go on anything like...that. Please believe me.”
Fenris’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’s doing, as if it is all finally hitting him. He jerks away abruptly, taking a glance over at Ser Gerard’s body on the ground, then scrutinizing the templar left. Hawke’s words repeat in his head over and over, how the Champion would always insist that Fenris shouldn’t kill his sister, Varania...an innocent...
This templar has the same look about him, an innocent.
Don’t do this, Fenris. It’s not worth it, says Hawke’s voice in the back of his head. Fenris finds himself being soothed all too fast--it’s a balm that he doesn’t want, yet he can’t turn away from this.
What’s done is done--the man responsible is killed, Fenris reasons. This templar may have witnessed everything, but he’s too much of a coward. There is no way he will report this to his superiors. He supposes on that principle, this templar most certainly had nothing to do with...Hawke.
“Go before I change my mind, templar,” Fenris insists, his tattoos dimming as his rage subsides. The templar doesn’t take long to take his advice, scampering away from the immediate area like a dog with a tail between its legs.
The elf looks up at the statues in the Gallows, dimly lit by moonlight.
And for the first time, he feels sorry for them.