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pikapeppa · 4 years

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@schoute made me some more gorgeous art of Fenris and Rynne Hawke and I cried. I stared at it and cried some more. And then I wrote some smut. 😂

Please go to AO3 to see the whole uncensored thing.

Please, I beg you, go look. It’s beautiful. 😭❤️😭❤️

Accompanying fic is ~1670 words, below the cut. Timeline-wise, it takes place soon after the FenHawke reunion in Act III.

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“Hawke,” he gasps, and she stops breathing for a moment.

It’s his voice. His lips brushing against her ear – no, his lips nipping her ear now as he flexes and sinks inside of her again. Yes, his lips breathing a soft and steady sort of praise against her ear…

“Hawke,” he groans. “Are you – is this – ah... ”

She arches her spine and gazes vacantly across the room in an ecstatic sort of haze. His hips are pumping against her ass and his chest is hot against her back, and his perfect voice is placing words directly into her ear with every guttural breath.

“Tell me if you – if you want to switch…” Fenris trails off with a groan, and Maker’s balls, that fucking sound he makes: it rolls out of his throat and across her naked back like a wave of sheer lust pouring over her skin, and it pushes her further into the pleasure that his driving cock and the weight of his body have already brought her.

He’s panting now, hot gusts of desperation against the back of her ear that are lifting goosebumps on her skin, and she closes her eyes to better savour the delicious shiver as it trails down the back of her neck. A minute later, however, his hips pull back and his mouth moves away from her ear.

She opens her eyes and twists around to look at him. “Hey,” she complains. “Why did you stop–”

He grasps her hip and thrusts into her again, a sleek hard thrust that drives a cry from her throat. Then he’s leaning over her again and penning her in with his lovely tattooed arms.

“Now you decide to speak?” he says dryly.

She laughs breathily. “I was listening!”

“Listening to what?” he pants.

“You, you handsome fool,” she says. “I like the sounds you make when you’re fucking me.” She wiggles her hips pleadingly. “You can keep fucking me and making more noises anytime now.”

He bursts out a breathless little laugh. “Fasta vass, Hawke. You will make me blush.” He slides into her slowly, and Rynne cries out and twists her fingers in the sheets. Fenris fills her so perfectly, fitting inside of her and soothing the void that no number of orgasms can seem to fill. No matter how much she touches herself, how often he touches her with his incongruously elegant warrior’s fingers or how many times he dips that gorgeous white-haired head between her legs, it’s not quite the same as this. It’s not the same as when he’s looming over her like this, like his body is her shelter and his arms are holding her in and keeping the world at bay. It’s not the same as when he holds her down, twining his fingers with hers and pressing her palms into the mattress like he’s grounding her here in the safety of the bed they share.

It’s not the same as when he fucks her hard, giving her his cock in the kind of deep and driving rhythm that fills her so completely that there’s no room for worries or errands or mages or Templars or anything else. There’s no room for anything else, not here in this bed with Fenris driving into her over and over until the bedroom is practically steaming with the sweat of their skin and the satisfaction that leaves their throats raw and parched.

It’s not the same. No matter how exquisitely he makes her come, no matter how boneless and shaky she is in the aftermath or whether her vision goes black and starry for that mind-blowing moment when she hits her peak, it is not quite the same as when Fenris holds her against his treasured body and pours that precious growl of a voice in her ear and fucks her so sweetly that the only word she can speak is his name.

“Say something,” she begs.

He groans again as he fills her up. “Like what?” he gasps.

“I don’t know. Anything,” she says. “Tell me – tell me what you did today.”

He huffs. “I was with you all day,” he says. He thrusts into her again and presses his mouth to the side of her neck, and within seconds, his tongue and his teeth on her skin have her gasping.

“Please,” she sobs. “Say something, Fenris. I want you to – fuck!” He’s grinding his hips against her ass now, and before she can attempt to pull in a breath, his lips are at her ear again.

“Should I tell you that I was thinking of this from the moment I woke this morning?” he murmurs.

His voice, his fucking precious voice: it’s low and intimate and laced with a hint of laughter. It is fucking flawless, and it sends a fresh shiver of delight down her spine. “That depends,” she gasps. “Is that true?”

He chuckles softly. “You think I would lie about this?”

“No,” she mewls. “No, of course not, I–”

He bites her neck, and she gasps and grips the sheets in her fists. Two more kisses to her neck, and then his mouth is at her ear once more. “I thought of this first thing this morning,” he tells her. “And again when you were picking up that… that blasted tome in the market. And again while I was waiting for you to f-finish your visit with Merrill…”

She pants for breath and doesn’t reply. His hips are picking up speed, thrusting into her faster while his voice becomes tense and erratic along with his breathing, but still he continues to talk.

“I have been thinking of this all day,” he says. “In fact, I… I’ve been able to think of little else.”

Rynne nods furiously. She knows the feeling – Maker’s balls, does she know the feeling. She can barely think of anything but this feeling: the feeling of being held and held down by Fenris, ensnared and embraced by Fenris, fucked and filled and fulfilled by Fenris while he breathes such wonderful words into the sex-scented air that surrounds them.

He slams into her once more. “You speak now,” he moans. “Say something, Hawke.”

“I fucking love you,” she blurts. “And I love it when you fuck me good and hard – ah!” She breaks off with an ecstatic cry: he’s fucking her hard now, a rough and rapid rhythm that shoves her into the mattress with every thrust while his palms push her hands into the bed and his chest presses into her back and his mouth presses into her neck and his breathing fills her ears and –

And yes, yes, he’s shuddering on top of her and gripping her hands so hard it almost hurts, and the sound he makes as he comes: the sound he makes is raw and uninhibited, a wordless plea and a wordless prayer wrapped in the cracked cadence of his glorious voice, and it’s almost enough to send her straight to the stars.

He breathes against her ear, ribs rising and falling against her back as his hips lay flush and still against the cushion of her ass, and Rynne smiles like a fucking fool and doesn’t move at all. When Fenris releases her hands and begins to shift away, she hastily grabs his wrists.

“Stay,” she says.

“I am not leaving,” he says quietly. “I was just going to let you rise.”

“No,” she murmurs. “Stay here.” She tucks one of his hands beneath her body.

He scoffs. “Hawke, I’m crushing you,” he says, but he’s sliding his arm around her waist to hug her from behind.

“That’s fine,” she says brightly. “I like being crushed by you. You’re my favourite blanket. Nice and heavy and warm.” She smiles and snuggles her cheek into the pillow. “Now talk some more. Say something.”

He chuckles and settles himself more snugly against her back. “Always with the talking,” he drawls. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” she says. “Whatever you like. Say something obscene in Qunlat if you like.”

He snorts softly but doesn’t speak right away, and Rynne waits patiently as he breathes on top of her. When he speaks, the words leave him on a slow and lazy sigh. “I don’t think I will ever get used to this.”

“Used to what?” she says.

His arm tightens around her. “This. You. Lying here like this with… with you.”

Her smile widens. She sighs happily and squeezes his other hand. “Well, that’s good. I like to think I’m not boring you in bed.” She waits in amusement for him to tell her to shut up or to call her an idiot in his lovely sardonic way, but he surprises her with a soft and serious tone.

“Never,” he says. “That will never… I will never grow bored of you.”

His voice is soft and smooth with contentment, but the words he delivers in that perfect voice are enough to make her heart swell with joy. She tries to hide her smile, but it bursts across her face until she’s sure she looks as giddy as she feels.

She carefully shifts out from beneath him. A moment later, they’re lying face-to-face on the rumpled dampness of her sheets in a tangle of sweat-laced limbs, and his emerald-green eyes are the warmest thing in this room.

She strokes his cheek. “Smooth talker,” she says. “That’ll get you everywhere with me.”

His lips quirk at the corners. “I’m glad to hear it,” he murmurs. “I shall endeavour to keep talking, then.”

She smiles, then gently kisses his beloved lips. Fenris can say anything he likes, whether it’s diatribe or a dry joke or a drowsy post-coital confession of love. As long as he keeps talking and fucking her and holding her close like his body is her home, she will be happy.

As long as Fenris keeps talking, Rynne will be happy forever.

#i just [sob] have a lot of feelings okay #A LOT OF FEELINGS #fenris #fenris fan art #fenris smut #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fhawris #f!hawris #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenrynne #schoute draws #pikapeppa writes #PIKAPEPPA DROWNS IN FEELINGS

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wolvenstormsstuff · 5 years

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Getting To Know Me meme

Tagged by: @for-lovely-things asdfghjkl ( as I have an opportunity I'll say that I love your art and your quizzy 💕)

Rules: tag nine hundred people you want to know better ( is it even possible?¿)

Relationship status: single and not surprised why lol

Favourite color: black, burgundy and purple

Top ships: pavellan, fenhawke, zevwarden, sheith, elu, geralt and yennefer

Last song: She's Lost Control-12" by Joy Division

Last movie: Léon : The Professional

Tagging: @humrau @girlinredflannel @bunnyplant @deadpunkwalking @honestlyitsjustsam @karasu8 @musically-magic and everyone who will be interested C:

#personal

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jawsandbones · 7 years

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Rather Lovely Thing

Robin Hood FenHawke AU written for the @daficswap! I had the pleasure of working with the lovely @aliveria who is an amazing artist and a wonderful person. Please go check out their art!

Rating: T

Pairing: Fenris x FemHawke

AO3 Link: Click Here

Shining brightly, draped in darkness and wrapped in stars, the moon hangs high in the night. The soft call of an owl, the low beat of wings as it follows its prey. A cold wind sweeps into his room and he’s not sure what wakes him. Blankets pulled around his shoulders, made of softest fur, a warm nest. He longs to return to sleep, what with heavy eyelids and slow breathing. Closing his eyes, but there’s that noise again. Moving only enough to see what strange shadows lurk inside his room.

This one moves quietly on her feet, bending down to open a drawer. She dips her hands in, pulls out a silk shirt. Holding it out to look, shaking her head and throwing it to the ground. She finds the gifted necklaces, the golden bracelets. Those she puts into one of the many bags tied to her one of her many belts. Her back is to the bed, her gaze focused on her search. He’s pushing himself up to sit as carefully as he can, but she doesn’t hear him move. Rather she’s chuckling underneath her breath as she holds up a ring, smirking as she tucks it in with the rest.

There’s a hook on the window, a long coil of rope curled on the floor. Her bow is resting beside it, along with a quiver of arrows. He slips from the bed, feet against bare stone, takes the bow in his hands, reaches for an arrow. Taking it up, placing it neatly, and drawing the bow. “How did you get in here?” She turns slowly as his words, raising her hands, dropping the pair of trousers she was holding. She shows him her empty hands, then leans against the dresser, crossing her arms.

“I think you can tell that I came through the window,” she says, pointing at the hook and the rope. There are multiple braids that knot through her hair, many multi-colored scarves around her neck, covering half her face. He can still see some of her cheeks, the freckles that dot there. A threadbare tunic, trousers in much the same condition. Her boots are encrusted with mud, flecks of it on the floor from where she’s been. He does not miss the dagger in her belt.

“You are her,” he says, “the robin,” and he pulls at the bow even harder. She pushes herself away from the dresser, claps her hands together in delight, the sound muffled by the fingerless gloves.

“You know me!” She says as she gives him a small wink. His arm shakes with the effort of the bow, of pulling the string. Her motions are almost lazy as she begins to walk towards him. A slow lean to the left as he lets fly the arrow. It takes a disappointing path, far from where he meant it to land. He steps back as she steps forward, until his back is to the wall and her hand is on her bow. “That’s mine.”

“You’ve taken things of mine,” he says.

“So I have. I’ll be leaving with them too,” she tells him. It takes only a tug to steal her bow back. Pulling it over her shoulder, wrapping the belt of the quiver around her waist. Humming as she reaches for the rope, leaning out the window as she throws it down.

“Please don’t move the hook, or cut the rope, until I’m on the ground,” she says, “I’d prefer not to die today.” A foot is on the windowsill, the rope in her hands.

“Take me with you,” he tells her, closing the distance between them. He watches as her eyebrows rise, eyes widening with surprise. He frowns as she begins to bark out laughter, as she steps out of the window and back onto stone, towards him.

“If you know me, then you know what I steal,” she says, “Gold, jewels, things. Not people.”

“Take me with you or I’ll cut the rope,” he says. She’s far too close, sizing him up, her nose a hairsbreadth away from his. Eyes narrowed, studying him and he’s doing his best to stare back.

“You’ve never killed anyone before,” she says at last, “and you’re not going to start today.” She shakes her head, walks back to the window. He’s on her in an instant, arms around her neck, pulling her back.

“Guards! Guards help me! There’s someone here!” He’s screaming at the top of his lungs as she flails, finally buries an elbow in his belly, wrestles him to the ground with her hand over his mouth.

“That is not how you get someone to help you,” she scolds him, wagging a finger on her free hand at him. She’s dead weight on top of him, her thighs crushing at his hips, and all he can manage is the pathetic stamping of his feet, clawing her arm. “I thought we were friends. Friends don’t let friends be taken by guards. You have to promise me that if I take my hand away, you won’t start screaming again. Understand?” All he can manage is a grunt. “Good.”

Her other hand is at her belt, pulling the dagger, putting it to his neck. Only then does she remove her hand. “Pardon me if I’m feeling a little skittish about the trust between us. Tell me why you want me to take you.” He glares at her, and she allows him to prop himself up with his elbows. She doesn’t press the metal against his flesh, keeping it just enough away from his skin.

“They say you help people. That what you rob goes to help the poor and the needy,” he says.

“’They’ aren’t wrong,” she tells him. “Again, I only steal things.”

“That’s what I am. A thing; something to be bought and sold. They want to marry me to a magister.” His face twists. “They are going to send me to Tevinter and I, I – I can’t.” She cocks her head and there’s a sudden dawning on her face. Tucking the blade back into her belt, one hand on the bed to help push herself up. Scurrying away from him, face in her hands.

“Andraste’s sagging arse. You’re Fenris,” she says when she turns back to him.

“You know me,” he says dryly, parroting her earlier words as he picks himself up and off the ground. She rolls her eyes.

“That marriage is supposed to cement an alliance between Ferelden and Tevinter, so yes, of course I know you. Half the country knows you,” she says.

“You do not know this magister. You do not know what he is like,” Fenris tells her, hands clenched into fists. Her arms crossed, fingers tapping at her chin, studying him once again. Her eyes moving from his head to his feet, back up again. A sigh every half second, before a groan, running a hand down her face. She takes the scarf with it. There’s a scar across her nose, and the hint of freckles gives way to a full face of them. She’s biting her bottom lip, hands at her hips.

“It’s a huge risk taking you. If I take you, you’re going to get me killed. Executed,” she says.

“If we are caught, I will tell them I forced you to take me.”

“As if that’ll matter.” She’s shaking her head, rubbing at the mud on her boot with her other foot. Hesitating. Still weighing the cost, the decision. He steps forward.

“Please,” he says softly. The stiff line of her shoulders slump.

“Bollocks.” She sticks out her hand towards him. “The name’s Hawke.” He takes her hand, gives it a firm shake. “Looks like you’re coming with me,” she says, pulling the scarf back over her face.

He loses track of how long they ride for. Hawke doesn’t take time to stop, only to rest and feed the horse. She gives him the last of her water-skin, and jerky is their every meal. His legs ache from being on a horse for so long, his every muscle tired and sore. Hawke is mostly silent, the reigns in her hand, guiding the horse where they need to go with uncanny awareness. He’s barely set foot outside of the castle. The countryside is foreign to him, every road unknown. His legs tremble when they stop next, and he wobbles to take a seat by a nearby stream.

She chuckles as she watches him, the horse taking a drink from the stream nearby. “Don’t ride very much, do you?” He can only glare, shake his head. Trying to work life back into limbs, standing up and taking unsteady steps.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” she says with a smile. He expects her to take him to some village. Instead, they pass one after the other, after the other. She avoids most people, and he can’t help notice the wanted posters on the sides of some buildings, and along the Imperial Highway. They all call for the arrest of the thief known as the Robin. Most are half-torn, and most are drawn on with crude symbols. None directed at her. The smallfolk have love for the one making their lord’s life miserable.

As they ride, he keeps his arms wrapped around her waist, chest against her back, resting his head on her shoulder. It’s easy to fall under the lull of the heavy beat of hooves against ground, the warm cloak wrapped around him. He dreams of the ocean. He knows it is day, he knows the sun is risen, when next he wakes. It’s hidden by a thick crop of trees, branches stretching overhead, the sky a now leafy green. The horse is walking over thick root and moss, and Hawke seems far too at ease.

“Every lord has been petitioning the king for your capture. You will be hanged with or without me. You know this and yet you still went to the Royal Palace. One of the most heavily guarded castles. Why?” She shrugs.

“They said the Palace couldn’t be stolen from. That I couldn’t steal from them,” she says.

“You risked your life because of a taunt,” he says it flatly. Her shoulders shake with silent laughter. He shakes his head, rolls his eyes. “Unbelievable.”

“You’re part of this now, you know. I won’t just let you sit at our camp doing nothing,” she tells him. “We’ll need to dye your hair first, teach you how to use a bow and a sword. Good chance of getting less dead if you know a bit of everything. Oh and picking locks too.”

“You want me to steal with you?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“It is dishonest.” Hawke snorts.

“The people we take from steal far more than we ever could. We’re just putting the gold back where it belongs.”

“’We’?” Just as he speaks, he feels a hand at his back. Pulling him by his tunic, dragging him off the horse, his feet dangling over the ground. Hawke immediately turns the horse, an amused grin on her face as she watches Fenris struggle. A tall red-headed woman has him in her grasp, a deep frown on her face as she looks between Fenris and Hawke.

“Put the nice man down Aveline,” Hawke says. She’s lounging on the saddle, leaning forward, that grin still persisting.

“We don’t take in strays,” she says, looking up him and down, “especially not royal strays.” Hawke raises her eyebrows, laughs softly under her breath.

“Honestly, who do we know that isn’t a stray? Put him down.” She opens her hand and down he goes. Landing roughly on his feet, stumbling away from her, steadying himself by a tree. A bush rumbles, the crack of a branch. Others are appearing one by one, with sword and bow, all pointed at him. Hawke doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest. Dismounting the horse with ease, moving to stand beside him, taking a leaf from his hair.

The camp is a short distance away, a clearing in the Korcari Wilds. Nestled in the ruins of some long forgotten building, white stone that’s no longer bright but covered in vines. Hammocks are slung between trees, boxes are scattered and stacked haphazardly. A fire burns in the middle, by a rack of weapons and one of food. Tents are pitched in a corner, and Hawke claps Fenris on the back. “It isn’t much, but it’s home,” she says. “You’re one of us now.”

He finds that stealing is easy. Isabela has been his tutor with the locks, hours spent crouching over a safe, the pins in his hand, listening to every careful click. It did not come as easy to him as he was hoping. Hawke brings Isabela a new pick set the next time she returns, to replace all the ones Fenris has broken. The basic locks are soon mastered, and he is slowly working his way up the tier. Isabela gives him a ship in a bottle for each lock he cracks. A corner of his tent is filled with them.

Merrill distressed over his hair, such a unique color, standing out. When you work with the Robin, it’s always best to never stand out. The first attempt at dyeing the white to black was met with spectacular failure. It did, however, stain her palms for a month. The second sees more success, but fades far too quickly. She gets it on the third try, and his hair now matches Hawke’s. Isabela and Merrill often steal together, dressed as Hawke would. Far more difficult to catch the Robin if there is more than one.

Hawke brings him on the odd small job, to places she knows will be empty. It allows them to take their time, for Hawke to provide instruction. Without seeing any people, the guilt of stealing is slowly washed away. He doesn’t think about who they’re stealing from anymore. It’s only gold, only trinkets. He picks the lock, she chooses the valuables that they take. Mostly small things, easily smuggled, easily stored and given to others.

Archery he finds far more difficult. Back at camp, coin counted and put away, a bow in his hands. Hawke stands behind him, putting her hand over his. “Relax.” She taps at his white knuckles, the hand that grips the bow. “Breathe,” she murmurs against his ear. Her other hand follows the line of his shoulders, traces down his arm. “Take your time.” He scowls as he lets the arrow fly, watches as it lands just short of the target.

Hawke steps back, her hands on her hips as she chuckles. “You’ll get the hang of it,” she tells him. She stays in the camp fairly often, but sometimes, during the day, she disappears with Aveline. She leaves him in the others care, and they are kind, but they treat him with a sort of fragility that she doesn’t. Too often has Anders mockingly called him your highness, and Merrill trips over herself in an effort to be overly polite.

“I am more useful with a sword.” She takes up her own bow, plucks the arrow from his hand. She lines up the shot with practiced ease, and the arrow lands in the center of the target. He passes her another arrow, and she splits her previous with it. “Show off,” he says, and passes her another. She gives him a grin as she takes it.

Hawke doesn’t sleep in a tent. Unless it’s raining, she chooses one of the hammocks outside. Swinging back and forth, her hands behind her head, listening to the late sounds of the birds and the bugs, the leaves and the trees that sway in the breeze. “Why sleep outside?” He asks her one night. An eye cracks open, and she shuffles in the hammock.

“Come here,” she says, patting the space beside her. With a doubtful glance, he hefts himself into the hammock with her. There’s no room to move and it forces them to be shoulder to shoulder, side by side, and practically cheek to cheek. She links their arms together, pressing her head against his. With her free hand, she points upwards.

“That’s Judex, meaning justice.” She’s tracing an outline in the stars, from point to shining point, drawing a downturned sword. “Draconis, a high dragon.” He turns his head slightly to look at her, watching her eyes shine just as brightly as the stars. “Peraquialus is over here.” She looks enchanted and enchanting and she shows him every constellation she can find. “I can’t help but wonder what they’re hiding,” she says.

“Hiding?” he asks softly.

“Are they jewels the gods put there? Worlds like ours? What would it be like to be able to fly among them? I’d give anything to be a dragon, just like in the old stories,” she sighs wistfully. He can’t help the laughter that bursts from him, and she soon joins him. In the morning, he has one leg hanging off the hammock, and Hawke is nestled in his arms, her head in the crook of his neck.

“I almost feel bad waking them,” Isabela says, her arms crossed as she examines the situation.

“Maker’s breath,” Aveline rolls her eyes, putting a hand on Fenris’s shoulder and shaking hard. “Wake up.” He makes a small grunt as Hawke propels herself upwards, her hands on his chest.

“Wassit,” she grunts. Another eye roll from Aveline as she puts her hands under Hawke’s arms, hauls her out of the hammock and deposits her onto her feet. Hawke covers a yawn with her hands.

“We need to go,” Aveline tells her, “there are people coming to see the lady of Lothering.”

“Why do we care?” Fenris asks as he moves to stand beside them. “Are we robbing this lady?” Aveline puts her hands on Hawke’s shoulders, swings her so that she is standing in front of him.

“This is the lady of Lothering.”

“Hello,” Hawke says as gives him a sheepish wave and a smile.

A strange thing, to see Hawke in a dress. A plain one, but a dress nonetheless, a small belt around her waist. Her hair brushed to full length, then put into one neat braid. Cheeks no longer smudges with dirt but freshly washed, boots replaced with small shoes. A stranger thing to see her riding side saddle. Fenris has his arms crossed as she brings the horse around. “It started in Lothering. They kept raising the taxes and I… I had to take their money. I didn’t want to and I didn’t have to if someone ‘stole’ it. I always returned what I took,” she tells him.

“You do not have to explain yourself to me,” Fenris says.

“You deserve an explanation,” she says. She rides with Aveline, the captain of her guard, back to the city, leaving him standing by the fire. He runs a hand through his hair, takes a seat on one of the logs nearby. Isabela wears a self-satisfied smile, her legs crossed, elbow on her knee, and chin in the palm of her hand.

“You two are certainly chummy,” she says, her voice practically dripping with the need for gossip. Fenris scoffs, shakes his head.

“You will not hear anything from me,” he says. Isabela fakes a pout.

“You’re no fun. What is fun is that Hawke has so many people coming to see her. Half of Denerim it seems like. All looking for you,” Isabela tells him. Fenris narrows his eyes, rises to his feet. “They’re moving from castle to castle, questioning everyone. Seems they’re mighty keen to find you. They’ve got the constable, bunch of guards and even someone from Tevinter.”

“Who. Exactly,” Fenris asks, an edge to his voice. Isabela shrugs.

“Some magister.” He takes off immediately, grabbing a quiver and a bow, tucking a dagger into his belt. Isabela is calling after him as he unties a horse, digs his heels into its side. He can still hear her voice as he rides off, racing towards Lothering.

Hawke raises the cup to her mouth, tastes sweet wine. Only the finest for the finest guests. Dinner is in full swing, weary travelers taking their rest in her hall. “What lovely countryside,” Danarius leans over to speak to her and she returns his words with a polite smile.

“Thank you magister,” she says.

“Are you not fearful being so close to the Korcori Wilds? I’ve heard the Robin hides there. You must be under frequent attack from that thief,” he says.

“There isn’t much here to steal,” she tells him.

“Except for the taxes which rightfully belong to the crown,” he smiles.

“Of course,” she smiles back, feeling an ache in her cheeks from the sheer fakeness of it. Meredith is watching her through a suspicious gaze, her hands folded on the table, having barely touched her food or taken a sip from her cup.

“Do you know why we’re here, Lady Marian?” Hawke shifts in her seat, the smile faltering at the sound of her name.

“I assume you’re on the Robin’s trail,” she says.

“We are indeed. We’re very close now. We’ll be garrisoning in your village while we amass soldiers to assault the Korcari Wilds and drive out the Robin from hiding. I assume you have no problem with this.” Hawke forces the smile to return.

“Of course not. We’ll be happy to help in any way we’re able.” She shares a look with Aveline across the table. Arrangements will be made to scatter the others, keep them out of harm’s way. Any trace of the camp will have to be taken care of and Fenris wouldn’t be able to stay in Lothering. Not when so many who know his face linger. Isabela would have no trouble smuggling him away. She would have to play her part as well, the kneeling lady to the crown.

“Has the Robin stolen much from you?” Danarius watches her intently, his steely gaze fixed on her.

“Enough,” Hawke says.

“She took something that was meant to be mine. Property which was promised to me.”

“This thing sounds valuable,” Hawke says through gritted teeth.

“He is.” His eyes to not leave hers. “My little Fenris.” She has to work to keep the distaste from showing. “Royalty that the King promised to me in exchange for an alliance with Tevinter. Do you want a war with Tevinter my lady?”

“Of course not.”

“Then give him back to me,” Danarius hisses, slamming his cup down onto the table. Aveline is on her feet at the same time as Meredith, each pointing swords at each other from across the table. Both sides follow their commander’s lead, Hawke’s guards against Denerim’s finest. Hawke is reaching for the blade hidden under her dress but Danarius never needed to hide his. Her movements stop the moment the cold iron touches her neck. “I am tired of playing pretend. We know you are the Robin.”

“You’ll never find him,” she tells him coldly.

“He wasn’t yours to take,” Danarius says.

“And I was never yours to keep.” Hawke looks around wildly until she spots him, on one of the higher windows of the hall. Perched on the sill, a bow in his hands, an arrow nocked and pointed. Danarius’s eyes widen when he sees him, pushes the blade into her neck hard enough to draw blood.

“Come to me, my little wolf, and I’ll let her go,” he says as he drags Hawke up from the chair, holds her like a shield in front of him.

“Your words mean nothing,” Fenris says, pulling at the string. Hawke has her eyes on him, making subtle gestures. Relax. Breathe. Take your time. He lets out the breath he’s holding, feeling the arrow slip through his fingers. Danarius reels backwards with a keening cry, the dagger dropping from his grasp, clapping his hands to his face. The arrow rests neatly in one of his eyes.

It is what cuts the silence, the pause, and Aveline is leaping over the table with her guards. “You did it! I knew you could! I’m so proud of you!” Hawke shouts as she throws her hands up into the air, like a parent cheering on their child. She turns quickly, dress swirling with her, and pushes the arrow even deeper. Danarius drops like a stone. Meredith is cutting through the guards, making a path towards Hawke.

“Run!” Aveline shouts at her.

“To me!” Fenris is calling out to her, throwing the rope through the window, down into the hall. Hawke is picking up her skirts, making a break for it. She sticks out her tongue at Meredith as Fenris hauls her up. He takes her hand in his, and they race across the roof. The rest of Meredith’s forces are outside, watching as they run. Fenris stops at the edge of the roof, but Hawke is pulling him with her, leaping down into the moat.

Sinking into the water, Hawke’s hand still tightly wrapped around his. She pulls him to the surface as his arrows float away from him, escaping the quiver, being taken with the current. “Hawke, I can’t swim,” Fenris is saying, desperately kicking his legs. Hawke instantly pulls herself closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Stay close to me,” she tells him. They can hear the yelling, shouting behind them, but Hawke is pulling them away. They’re shivering in the cold, clothes soaked through and through, water against skin. The castle fades in the distance and only then does she direct them to the shore, still holding tightly onto him. Climbing over rock, collapsing onto grass, lying side by side.

“He’s dead,” Fenris says through gasping breath, brushing wet locks out of his face. There’s dye on his hands, the white in his hair starting to bleed through. Turning his head to face her, teeth chattering together. Hawke is looking up at him, flecks of water on her face, running down her neck. He brushes a thumb against her cheek, wipes away the wet. “He’s dead.” A confirmation of the statement, a realization that it’s true. Some sort of weird mixture of relief and happiness flooding his chest, bursting into a grin, leaning over Hawke and pressing a kiss against cold lips. Her mouth is warm, her hand at the back of his neck, drops from his hair mixing with the wet of hers. She’s smiling when he pulls away.

“You’re free,” she tells him. “On the other hand, Aveline is going to be furious.” She breaks into hopeless laughter, and he’s helpless in joining her. Laughing together, pressing his forehead against hers, holding her tight in his arms.

#fenris #hawke #hawris #fenhawke #dragon age #fenris x hawke #fenris x f!hawke #f!fenhawke #f!hawris #f!hawke #fenris x femhawke #dragon age 2 #da2 #writing #mine #alternate universe #da fic swap

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therealmnemo · 7 years

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Rules: tag the person who tagged you, always post the rules, answer the questions, and add the date!

Both @thejourneymaninn and @hollyand-writes tagged me for this <3

What are your five most popular works?

Oh boy, hits or kudos? Because they do not match lol. Anywho, by kudos:

A Surprise in the Snow (93 kudos) - Fenris/m!Hawke. While Hawke is at Skyhold, Fenris finds something left behind by slavers. This is part of my little bird series, one of my first fanfics, and my rare m!Hawke fics.. and it’s been my most popular even after everything I’ve written. Yay kidfic!

I Need A Hero (90 kudos) - Fenris/Anders. Modern au with Cop!Fenris and Firefighter!Anders, based on art by @sixlilypetals and written for the @daficswap. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I’ve got an outline for a sequel that I’m writing for TBAAs giveway.

I Have Promises to Keep, And Miles to Go Before I Sleep (86 kudos) - Fenris/Anders. False calling prompt from @tearsofwinter. It zoomed up after adding the less ambiguous happy ending that was also requested from Tears :D

Infinity in Pieces (73 kudos) - Anders/Fenris/f!Hawke. Mermaid/Soulmate/Modernish au. This was written as a giveaway for my own blog for @fenrisofseheron. It’s my first multi-chapter that I finished and feel like it could be fleshed out a bit more, but it was fun :)

I’m going to put down both of these, because they’re a couple kudos apart, but I think they’re about equally as popular I am a Question to the World (66 kudos) and You Could Be Happy (61 kudos) - these are my drabble collections for Anders and Fenris weeks last year, respectively. There are pieces in them that stand out and I think they’re popular for those reasons. For Anders - “And Baby Makes Four” and “I’m Still Here”. For Fenris - “Surprises” and “Flight”. (One of my fave fenhawke writers gave me kudos after Surprises and I almost cried, and I got the most comments ever on the Flight chapter on any of my works and almost cried again.)

What are your five least popular works?

Not counting podfics or small drabbles that were originally tumblr prompts:

Critics Be Damned (11 kudos) - Gen. Varric thinks about everyone he’s lost during the changes of Thedas and what he leaves behind. I mostly got inspired by the ‘Hard in Hightown: Chatper ???” Codex.

I Still Hope (14 kudos) - Anders/f!Hawke. Got inspired by the song ‘I Know You Care’ by Ellie Goulding and wrote a bit of reflection for an f!Hawke that worries over Anders losing himself more and more to his cause. She doesn’t mourn his cause, she mourns that it has to be fought to begin with. I don’t know if that came through well enough, though.

Flight, Sundered. (15 kudos) - Anders/Fenris/f!Hawke. My poor, abandoned WiP about a Tranquil Hawke’s journey through the events of Kirkwall. It only has one chapter up. Someday I’ll get back to it.

His Hands Shake (20 kudos) - Carver, implied Carver/Merrill. My very first fic, written for a Secret Santa. Templar Carver going through lyrium withdrawal and getting hope from Varric about the recovery thing that Cullen set up.

The River Always Finds the Sea (21 kudos) - Karl Thekla/Anders. This is the third fic in my merfic series. I’ve come back to write this before I get back into the main series. It’s written from Karl’s POV of his time in the Gallows Circle and his relationship with Anders while he’s in captivity.

Are you surprised? Why?

Not really? I’m a f!Hawke writer mostly, but m!Hawke tends to just really pull in readers, so seeing that continually rise to the top (an m!FenHanders one is the next in popularity) kind of bums me but I’m still proud of it. My Fenris x Anders pieces I wasn’t too surprised because the community is super thirsty for more fics (we are, I will consume them alllll) and we really look out for each other. As for the less popular ones.. still not that surprised. One is a gen and it’s super sad, the others consist of ships with Anders and f!Hawke (which just aren’t as popular), one’s a Carver fic, and the last one is a Kanders. All pairs and subjects that just aren’t that popular.

Optional: If you want to calculate this, what are your works’ average number of notes? Idek, part of the reason of notes difference, will be cross-posting to tumblr as well as originally posting these under a different tumblr name.

Today’s date, so you can see how your results might change if you do this again in a year.

08/05/2017

Tag six people to do this next!

I was super late in answering this, so I don’t know who all has already done it :(... tagging @pikestaff, @the-arkadian, @storybookhawke, @dorianpink, @cypheroftyr, @warriormaggie :)

#mnemospeaks #mnemowrites #tag meme

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stitchcasual · 7 years

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Top Five/Bottom Five

Rules: tag the person who tagged you, always post the rules, answer the questions, and add the date!

tagged by @the-tevinter-biscuit, @theoxfordcommando, AND @gothic-princess-witch! wow guys, I guess I really gotta do this, eh?

What are your five most popular works?

Albatross [269] (surprising absolutely no one, I hope)---My Fenhawke in-progress-I-swear-I’ll-update-it-again-at-some-point modern!AU longfic. An AO3 exclusive

Stares and Whispers [126]---an “imagine your otp” fic I wrote. An office setting where Hawke and Fenris are presumed to be having an affair with each other while married to other people...while actually being married to each other. An absolute delight to write and, apparently, it’s a pretty popular read too. An AO3 exclusive

Up High, Down Low [51 + 45]---a height difference kissfic I wrote very quickly for a friend who prompted me. I like it but also want to write another based on this prompt. AO3 + tumblr

That’s a good look for you [86]---a fluff fill from one of those fluff prompt lists that ran around a little while ago. Such a wonderful fic, I always write such fabulous fluff when @theoxfordcommando asks for it ^_^ a tumblr exclusive

Die to Protect Me [53 + 31]---my hella angsty Fenris-is-gravely-wounded fic for my canon Hawke. I adore this piece (and it’s the one piece I’ve received an ART for, so it’s really got a special place in my heart). The pain in it is wonderful and it sets up a lot of shit that happens for my Hawke’s Inquisition story line. AO3 + tumblr

Important Questions [65 + 18]---I’m cheating and putting this one up here because it’s so close in number to DtPM (since I think DtPM probably has a little note buffer from self-reblogs). Another piece of @theoxfordcommando fluff, actually the first one I ever wrote for her! AO3 + tumblr

AO3-only generates the same list of fics (while removing Good Look) tumblr-only generates a completely different list: Good Look, Give me a Hand [64, Fenhawke fluff], To Be Content [54, Fenhawke fluff], Barely Dawn [51, Fenhawke fluff], and Lightning [37, Fenhawke DAO!AU].

What are your five least popular works?

Should the Worst Come to Pass [2]---my very first fic up on AO3. It’s an ME3 fic, following my Paragon Shepard, Taran, as she deals with the aftermath of Thane’s death and creates scenes that should have happened in the game to generate better closure. There’s three chapters and oh wow has my writing gotten better since then. It’s a pretty choppy fic and I’m not sure it’s accomplishing what I want it to, but I still might go back to it at some point. An AO3 exclusive

What is This? [3]---a very tiny fic based on a post about two-handed warrior!Hawkes in Inquisition. A tumblr exclusive

an untitled Voltron drabble [6]---just some Sheith angst after the end of season 2. A tumblr exclusive

Things You Said I Wish You Hadn’t [6]---an ask fill from a prompt list. Very short and really angsty because this is the letter my Hawke leaves for Fenris when he leaves for the Inquisition. A tumblr exclusive

Staying Warm [7]---A Pavellen fic! My first and only for the pairing (so far), featuring my second Inquisitor, Mirallen Lavellen. He’s a wonderful, sneaky, conniving bastard, and I love him. A tumblr exclusive

AO3-only generates a completely different (almost) list: Should the Worst Come to Pass, Three Oh Four Nine Four Two [6, a ME2 Shrios fic], A Precious Gift [8, Albatross!AU Cawke], A Change of Pace [9, Sebris], and What Once Was [10, Fenhawke, DAI reunion].

Are you surprised? Why?

1000% not surprised that Albatross is the tops and Should the Worst is the bottom. Some of my favorite fics are square in the middle of the popularity rating, which is kind of sad. Some of my fics also do better on tumblr than they do on AO3: both longer Voltron fics, A Change of Pace (the Sebris one), and Nothing Hidden (Fenhawke mostly-fluff).

I guess I have a skewed idea of which things are popular and which aren’t. There are a few I thought were more popular that are a little more middle of the road (or that are popular on tumblr, in comparison to some of my other things on tumblr).

Also, I really kind of thought the one pretty damn explicit, smut-based fic would get more notes but I guess not? Maybe it’s just not everyone’s cup of tea. I get that. Maybe the 4k of buildup bored people? idk

Optional: If you want to calculate this, what are your works’ average number of notes?

AO3-only: 45.58 (probably weighted heavily due to presence of Albatross) AO3-only w/o Albatross: 33.167 tumblr-only: 26.2 (heavily weighted by the few fluff fics that reached over 50) total: 37.03

Today’s date, so you can see how your results might change if you do this again in a year.

7/26/2017

Tag six people to do this next!

tagginggggg: @hollyand-writes, @erandir, @storybookhawke, @wildwildwasteland, @probably-a-synth, and @beetle-ships-it-all, should they choose to do it, and also any of y’all, should you choose to

#tag meme

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legoprime · 7 years

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Not really tagged, but I saw @kirkwallgirl post this meme thing earlier and thought it would be fun to challenge myself with it...!

List 10 things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on. This can be writing, arts, gifsets, whatever.

First is Relight My Life of course, that’s going to be at the top of the list for a while yet until it’s done. (Close to halfway there I think!)

A banner for Anders Rarepair Week (hosted by @justhanderspositive) that I’m very nearly done with. Just need to shake this cold and give it a more healthy look over.

Art of my new Ryder and Jaal, which isn’t started at all but I must do it.

More detailed character design for a new OC I made for an upcoming DA tabletop game with friends over in the DA Weird Shit Discord chat (yesss).

Pride art for at least Avery Hawke if not more (I’d like to do it for all of my queer OCs but I know my limits and he might be it).

A banner for a Fenders event, also hosted by @justhanderspositive.

Surprise fanart for [redacted] of a scene I really loved from one of their fics.

More Anders/Avery fics!! I started writing one with more of a focus on gender and Avery’s identity but then hit a rut and haven’t gone back to it since. I might see if I can get that up and going again, or else I’ll pick another topic to do next. I’ve got a lot on my list for them.

A RML side story about how Hawke and Anders first met. This will be fairly long - I already have the first 1.5 chapters finished but I rarely ever work on it so it’s slow going. It’s basically the thing I work on when I have absolutely nothing else going on, or if I just really, desperately need to write Handers for a bit. My goal is to have it finished enough to start posting chapters weekly after RML ends.

That Fenhawke musician AU is still rattling around in my head. I’ve got a lot of notes down and an outline of the beginning of it, but I really don’t think I’ll be able to start writing it until RML is finished.

Tagging @timesorceror, @therealmnemo, @justhanderspositive, and anyone else who wants to do it...!

#tag meme #me when i started this: do i even have ten things going on right now?#me after finishing: ten was n o t e n o u g h

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pikapeppa · 5 years

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Cullavellan & FenHawke pirate AU: Dreams

Welcome to Chapter 26 of my and @schoute’s pirate AU, Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me! In which there are TWO PIECES OF ART BECAUSE SCHOUTE SPOILS US.

It’s a longer one (>10k words), so only the first part is here. Read the rest on AO3, picking up from Piper’s POV!

********************

- RYNNE -

One by one, the buttons on Lady Marielle’s extravagant bustier came undone. She breathed more easily with every loose button, and by the time the bustier fell in a rumpled pile to the floor, all she could say were three simple words: “Take me, Donnen.”

Rynne breathlessly flipped to the next page of Varric’s manuscript, then froze as Fenris shifted beside her in the bed. He was fast asleep still, but there was a frown puckering his brow, and Rynne remained stock-still until his handsome face relaxed.

When he was still and peaceful once more, she delicately brushed a strand of snowy-white hair from his forehead. He was sleeping flat on his belly, and Rynne solicitously pulled the sheet up to cover his bare back before returning her attention to the pile of parchment in her lap.

She was fortunate that Varric had still agreed to let her read his pages even though she’d declined his generous offer yesterday. But between her regular morning lessons with Anders and the blissful afternoon she’d spent in Fenris’s cabin alternating between sparring and sex, the current hour – which was very late indeed – was the first moment she’d found to finally sit down with Varric’s unpublished book.

Incidentally, this was also the first time in three nights together that Rynne had actually witnessed Fenris sleeping. It seemed that he was both an early riser and a late sleeper; Rynne always seemed to fall asleep before him and to wake after he’d already had a chance to wash and dress. But it appeared that she’d finally managed to wear him out: for once he’d fallen asleep before her, leaving her with an opportunity to read some of Varric’s book.

Her greedy eyes returned to the top of the page, and as she read, her belly started to tingle with anticipation.

Donnen’s eyes were wide and admiring as they scanned Marielle’s bare bosom. She waited for him to move, but the longer she waited, the more impatient she grew.

The wait was too long, and her desires were too strong to be denied. She took a bold step forward and grasped Donnen’s immaculate coat. “Donnen, I need you to

Fenris jerked and grunted, and Rynne twitched in surprise at his sudden movement. She looked at him, then frowned worriedly; his face was twisted into a pained-looking grimace.

He inhaled sharply through his nose and thrashed his head, then grunted once more, and Rynne carefully shifted Varric’s pages off of her lap. She reached out and placed a gentle hand on Fenris’s back. “Fenris–?”

He snapped awake and recoiled from her, and Rynne’s heart seized in her chest. His lips were twisted into a sneer, but he was wild-eyed with panic, and that panic was focused on her.

She reached for him. “Fenris, it’s all right–”

He flinched and shoved himself away from her. “Stay back,” he barked. “Keep your hands off of me.”

She hastily withdrew her hand. Her heart was pounding a panicked pulse in her throat. She could tell by the unfocused look in his eyes that he was still half-asleep, but she wasn’t sure how to rouse him fully without alarming him further.

She swallowed hard to try and calm her own distress. “Fenris,” she said loudly. “Wake up.”

He flinched again and blinked, and Rynne slowly released her breath as the twisted rage in his expression faded into surprise. “Hawke?” he croaked.

“It’s just me,” she said softly. “Are you all right?” Her heart was still pounding, making her feel slightly dizzy. She twisted her fingers together in her lap to keep them to herself; she wanted so badly to reach for him again and to settle close to him, both for her own comfort and his, but she was afraid to touch him against his will.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m… I’m fine.” He stared at her for a moment longer, then shifted slowly onto his back and settled into his pillow.

She eyed him apprehensively. His face was turned away from her, but the longer she watched him, the more his frown softened into a sad sort of resignation.

She gingerly settled onto her side facing him. “Do you often have nightmares?”

His jaw tightened for a moment before he replied. “Sometimes,” he said quietly. “But it’s been some time since I was plagued by them.”

“How long?” she asked softly. “Do you remember?”

He took a deep breath, and Rynne waited quietly until he spoke again. “When I first joined the Lady Luck,” he said. “I couldn’t… the crew’s quarters were…” He shook his head slightly. “It was a poor fit. I was a disturbance. Piper gave me this room within a week.”

A painful surge of tenderness burned the back of her eyes. She shifted closer, wishing more than ever that she could press herself against him, but before she could speak, he turned his head and met her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Sorry for what?”

“For frightening you,” he said. “I did not want to scare you.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t scare me. I was worried about you. You seemed… whatever you were dreaming about must have been, er, not… not good.” She trailed off lamely; as she was speaking, his expression seemed to close.

He turned to face the ceiling once more. “You don’t need to pity me, Hawke. I do not need it.”

She gazed at him painfully. He often said this when she was trying to offer him some sort of compassion for what he’d been through, but she knew him well enough by now to know what he was really thinking.

It wasn’t just that Fenris didn’t want her sympathy. He also didn’t feel that he deserved it.

“I don’t pity you, you handsome fool,” she said. “I admire you. I think you’re strong and brave. And don’t scoff at me,” she added when he shot her an annoyed look. “That’s what I think, and you can’t change my mind.”

Then something occurred to her. He’d said the nightmares were worse when he first joined the ship, and that Piper had given him this room for himself. If he’d needed this private space to feel comfortable…

A painful surge of guilt filled her throat. “Oh Maker,” she breathed. “Maybe that’s why.”

“Why what?” he said.

“Why you’re having nightmares,” she said sadly. “Maybe it’s because I’m here.”

He frowned. “Hawke–”

“You’re not used to sharing your sleeping space with anyone else, are you?”

His eyebrows rose, and his expression was so unguarded that Rynne knew she must be correct.

Fenris licked his lips. “I… Are you?” he asked.

“I kind of am, actually,” she said. “Bethany and I often shared a bed, especially when we were younger. Mother tried to stop us; she said we had our own rooms and we ought to use them. But Bethany often had nightmares when she was little. If I petted her hair, she would eventually fall back asleep.” Even once Rynne and Bethany had grown up, however, they continued to have the occasional sleepover whenever Rynne could cajole her obedient younger sister to break their mother’s stupid rules. The nighttime tradition had continued right up until Bethany got sick.

The night that the scarlet fever had finally stolen Bethany’s last laboured breath, Rynne had gone to Carver’s bedroom where he was staying during his compassionate leave from the navy. And during the few nights that Carver was home, he had actually allowed her to share his bed – with complaints at first, of course, but he’d allowed it.

She shunted the painful memories aside and looked at Fenris. He was frowning still, but he looked troubled rather than angry.

“You’re used to sleeping alone,” she said softly.

He glanced at her, then sighed. “Yes,” he admitted. “I had a solitary room in Danarius’s mansion.”

“You did?” she said in surprise. Somehow she’d imagined Tevinter slaves being forced to share cramped quarters. It seemed oddly luxurious that Fenris had his own bedroom. Even the Hawke family’s paid servants had to share rooms.

He shot her a sharp look. “Do not mistake it for a boon. It was a glorified cage for his favourite pet.”

She steadily returned his gaze. “I would never mistake anything that asshole did to you for a boon,” she said quietly.

His expression softened. “I know. I’m… I’m sorry, Hawke.” He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I didn’t mean that.”

She nodded and picked idly at the mattress. She didn’t want to say her next words, but for Fenris’s sake, she felt like she had to.

She swallowed hard, then forced herself to speak in a pleasant tone. “Maybe I should go back to the crew’s quarters at night, then,” she said. “That way you can get some sleep before I come bursting back into your life and wearing you out.” She wrestled her face into a suggestive smile.

His gaze darted to her face for a split second, then returned to the ceiling. “Is that what you want?” he said.

His voice was even, and Rynne’s aching heart squeezed. How long was it going to take before he understood that all she wanted was him?

She shifted a bit closer to him on the bed. “Of course it’s not what I want,” she said earnestly. “But I also don’t want to make you…”

She trailed off. Something else had just occurred to her – something that made her heart seize with guilt.

She looked at him with wide eyes. “You didn’t sleep the past couple of nights while I was here, did you?”

His jaw tightened again. “Not… particularly,” he muttered.

She stared at him in a stricken silence. That was why he was always awake before and after her. It wasn’t because he was an early riser who didn’t need much sleep. It was because he hadn’t really slept at all.

Her chest was hurting – both for him and for herself. She forced herself to inhale. “Fenris, why… why didn’t you say anythi–”

“I wanted it to stop on its own, all right?” he snapped. “I didn’t want – I had hoped–” He broke off and took a deep breath, then exhaled sharply. “I didn’t want these cursed dreams to spoil anything.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “These – those damned slavers. They spoil everything they ever touch. I wanted this to remain unspoiled by all of that.” He gestured angrily between himself and her.

Unable to stand the distance between them, Rynne reached out and grabbed his hand. His fingers were tense and cold, and Rynne pressed his knuckles to her lips before cradling his hand close to her chest. “Nothing is spoiled, Fenris,” she said.

“I’m–” He broke off abruptly and looked up at the ceiling once more.

Her heart felt like it was breaking, but she forced herself to breathe evenly. “They didn’t ruin you,” she insisted. “There’s nothing spoiled about you.”

Fenris turned his face away from her and pressed his lips together, but Rynne refused to let him hide away. She shuffled close and pressed herself firmly against him, curling her arm around his shoulders and tucking her face against his hair.

She kissed his temple. “You’re not spoiled, all right?” she murmured. “You’re selfless and smart, you’re a fantastic teacher, you’re sarcastic and funny when the mood strikes–”

“I’m unkind,” he said suddenly. “I was unkind to you at first. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You’ve more than made up for it,” she assured him.

He shook his head, even as his hand rose to squeeze her arm. “I… I can’t read,” he said.

“Who fucking cares if you can’t read?” she exclaimed. “You’re still the second smartest man I know. After Varric, of course.” She drew back and eyed him curiously. “Do you want to learn to read?”

He shrugged silently, but he was nibbling the inside of his cheek, and Rynne watched him tenderly for a moment before speaking again. “I’ll teach you to read if you want,” she said. She kissed his forehead again. “Honestly, Fenris, anything you want, all you have to do is ask.”

He squeezed her arm and didn’t reply, but his gaze darted down to Varric’s manuscript, which was sitting at the foot of the bed in a slightly untidy pile. Rynne’s belly flipped with excitement. Would he actually let her teach him to read? Maybe allow her to return the favour for all the careful and patient weapons training he’d done with her over the past two months?

He was silent for a moment. Then he gestured vaguely at the manuscript. “What was that you were reading?”

She fought back a giddy smile. “Oh, it’s Varric’s next novel,” she said casually. “He finally started writing a sequel to Swords and Shields. I suspect he’s writing it just to get me off his back.” She snickered.

Fenris huffed in amusement and ran his fingers idly along her arm. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Yes,” she said brightly. “Very much. I was just about to read the scene where the main character and his leading lady make love. Or, well, I hope they do. I just started reading the bit where he’s getting her naked.” She wiggled her eyebrows salaciously.

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “I see,” he said slowly.

She grinned at his skeptical tone, then sat up and gave him a wheedling look. “Can I read some of it to you? Maybe you’ll get a taste for romance novels yourself.”

He scoffed. “I suppose. If you insist.”

She eagerly sat up and pulled the manuscript close. A few moments later, she and Fenris were curled together against the head of the bed, and Rynne reverently smoothed her fingers over Varric’s pages before turning to look at Fenris.

“All right,” she said cheerfully. “All you’ve really missed is that the Lady Marielle is now naked from the waist up, and Donnen is staring at her.”

Fenris sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair. “All right. Let’s hear it.”

Rynne grinned, then traced the lines with her finger as she read out loud. “Donnen’s eyes were wide and admiring as they scanned Marielle’s bare bosom. She waited for him to move, but the longer she waited, the more impatient she grew.”

Fenris snorted softly. “This Lady Marielle’s attitude sounds familiar.”

Rynne laughed and playfully pinched his earlobe. “You can’t fault her. She’s just a girl who knows exactly what she wants.” She turned back to the book and wiggled her toes excitedly before going on. “The wait was too long, and her desires were too strong to be denied. She took a bold step forward and grasped Donnen’s immaculate coat. ‘Donnen, I need you to–’”

“Hawke,” Fenris said suddenly.

“Yes?” she said distractedly. She turned to look at him, and her heart did a little flip. The expression on his handsome face was so serious.

“Stay here. Please,” he said quietly. “Don’t go back to the crew quarters.”

Her chest squeezed with a nearly-unbearable rush of fondness. She reached up and gently stroked his chin with her thumb. “I won’t,” she promised. “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

He exhaled slowly, then shifted closer and pressed his forehead to hers. “That is all I want,” he whispered.

A burn of happiness lit the back of her eyes. She took shaky little inhale and cradled his neck in her palm. Fenris gently nuzzled her nose, and Rynne giddily held her breath until he pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

She ran her palm along his bare chest and returned his kiss with every scrap of enthusiasm she could muster. A moment later, he haphazardly shifted the manuscript off of her lap before pulling her beneath his body, and for a wonderful, peaceful moment, Rynne savoured the plushness of his lips and the firm stroke of his hand as it slid along the length of her leg from her ankle to her knee and up to her hip.

She gently nipped his lower lip and enjoyed the sound of his breath catching in his throat. Then his hand was sliding beneath her loose shirt and up to trace her ribs.

His fingers played across her puckered nipple, and Rynne broke their kiss with a fitful gasp. “Don’t you want to see what the Lady Marielle is going to do next?” she breathed.

He smiled at her – that beautiful, genuine smile that never failed to steal her breath. “I’m more interested in finding out what you will do next,” he whispered.

She beamed at him and twined her legs around his waist. A moment later, she was panting for breath as he rocked himself against her, smoothing his hardness through her softer flesh, and when she moaned with longing, he captured the sound with his heated tongue and groaned into her mouth in kind.

Fenris cradled her neck in his palm and slowly slid inside of her, and Rynne exhaled her pleasure into his parted lips. If he wanted her to stay here in his quarters with him, that’s exactly what she would do. If he wanted her to teach him to read, that’s precisely what she would do. She would give him anything he wanted, because he’d given her everything.

He gave her his affection and his protection and his intelligent words. He gave her bliss with the firmness of his hands and his cock and his gorgeous sculpted lips. Fenris gave her everything she had ever thought to want, and as they shifted and breathed together in the coziness of his plain cotton sheets, Rynne’s delirious thoughts distilled to one simple idea: she loved Fenris, and she would give him whatever he needed to be happy.

Read the rest on AO3 from Piper’s POV!

#where the winds of fortune take me #pirate au #cullen rutherford #fenris #cullen/lavellan #cullen x lavellan #cullavellan #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenrynne #piperford #pikapeppa writes #schoute draws #pikascout

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pikapeppa · 5 years

Text

Cullavellan & FenHawke pirate AU: Voice

Chapter 30 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me is up on AO3! Just the first section here; Read the whole thing on AO3 instead.

In which I resolve those cliffhangers from yesterday’s chapter. HA.

Wonderful art as always by our talented mastermind @schoute!! Fun fact: this was the first piece of FenRynne pirate art I requested, and I’m thrilled to finally use it in the fiiiic!

- CULLEN -

Piper ran straight at the nearest pirate with an animalistic howl, and Cullen took a split second to be stunned by her chaotic attack before following her into the fray. Two other men were about to attack Piper while she was occupied with her foe, and Cullen parried one man’s blow before kicking the other in the hip, sending him sprawling before swinging back around to cut down the first man with a slash across the belly.

As Cullen continued to fight, he tried to get a swift headcount of their enemies. There seemed to be… seven of them alive now, perhaps eight. Unfavourable odds, certainly, but it could be worse. Piper was jabbing and snarling at her foe like a rabid wildcat, and it was obvious to Cullen that the vehemency of her attack was throwing him off, particularly given her diminutive size. Fifteen paces away, Fenris was handling himself with the same silent and brutal efficiency that he’d displayed during sparring sessions on the deck: in the two seconds that Cullen spent watching him, he trapped a man against a tree with one arm to his neck, headbutted him, then stabbed him through the gut before spinning to block a blow from another foe who was just behind.

He’s all right, Cullen thought, and he turned back to assist Piper instead. Her enemy was dead, and she was engaging two others with a boldness that was both admirable and terribly worrying, given that both men were almost twice her weight.

One of the men reached for his pistol. Cullen rushed him and slashed at his arm, causing the man to dodge away with a cry of shock. He tried to aim his pistol, but Cullen grabbed his outstretched arm and pulled him close, then elbowed him in the face before slicing him open from throat to hip.

He glanced at Piper once more, and his heart leapt into his throat. She was ten paces away, and she and her foe were on the ground, Piper scrabbling through the sand for her dropped épée while her sorely-injured foe shoved himself clumsily to his feet. As Cullen watched in horror, Piper’s enemy reached out and grabbed the back of her shirt.

Cullen bolted toward her. The pirate was dragging Piper back through the sand, and now he was hauling her to her feet and reaching for her throat with one large meaty hand…

“No!” Cullen bellowed.

The man twitched in startlement and loosened his grip on Piper, and she spun around and slammed the heel of her hand into his nose. Then Cullen plowed into him in a hard tackle.

They skidded painfully across the sand with Cullen on top. The pirate was gasping in agony from a wound in his side but still reaching for the dagger on his thigh–

Cullen grabbed the dagger and ruthlessly stabbed the blade into the side of the pirate’s throat. He pulled the dagger free, and the copious spurt of blood was accompanied by the man’s choking cry.

Cullen shoved himself to his feet and turned to Piper. She was glaring at the pirate, her chest heaving with angry breaths as she wiped some blood from her mouth. She spat a gobbet of bloody saliva on his body, then looked up at Cullen. “Come on,” she snapped. “Fen needs us.” She began running back toward Fenris, who was battling three men at once.

Cullen hastily caught up to her. “Are you all right?” he shouted.

“I’m fantastic,” she yelled back. “I bet I can kill more of them than you.”

Her smile was blood-tinged and angry and not at all reassuring. But before Cullen could say anything more, Piper looked past him at the treeline and slumped slightly. “Fenedhis lasa,” she complained. “More on the approach.”

Cullen looked, and his heart sank into his stomach; six more men were approaching, and there were the three that Fenris was fighting, and – oh Maker’s breath, was that shouting he was hearing from up on the ship itself?

Piper stopped in her tracks when she heard the sound, and as Cullen watched, she seemed to swell with rage. “They’re on my ship?” she shrieked.

Cullen reached for her hand. “Piper–”

She pulled her hand away and pointed her épée at the oncoming enemies. “We kill these assholes, then we destroy anyone who dared to set foot on the Lady Luck,” she snarled. Without another word, she bolted straight at the six incoming men, and Cullen ran after her.

She flew into the enemies’ midst like a tornado, screeching like a banshee and jabbing her épée in a flurry of chaotic strikes as she reached for her flintlock, and the element of surprise gave her a clear second of advantage: she shot one man in the face and another in the belly before swinging the flintlock into another man’s jaw. Then one of the men grabbed her around the waist.

She snarled and flailed wildly, inadvertently elbowing him in the face and forcing him to drop her, and Cullen swiftly joined her to control the fight, keeping the remaining men back as best he could. But the odds were clearly against them now. His muscles were starting to ache from every parry and thrust, and Piper was gasping for breath between curses, and Fenris was still fighting one of his three foes – a clear indication that he was getting fatigued himself.

Then three more men burst from the treeline.

Maker save us, Cullen thought in dismay. Then an arrow punched through one man’s chest.

Cullen looked up in surprise. Varric and Dorian were approaching, and Dorian was reaching for a second arrow from the quiver at his hip.

Varric felled Fenris’s final enemy with a crossbow bolt. Fenris looked up and nodded brusquely at Varric, then bolted toward the Lady Luck without a word.

Varric looked over at Cullen. “Need a hand, Curly?” he shouted.

“Absolutely,” Cullen called in relief. Within a few blessedly short minutes, most of their foes were dead with three making an escape back to the treeline, and no more were emerging from the forest.

Cullen straightened and blew out a relieved breath. “Thank you,” he said fervently to Dorian and Varric. “I was concerned for a moment.”

“I wasn’t,” Piper said belligerently. “We would have had them. You hear that, you rotten sack of swine?” she yelled at a nearby dying man. “You were dead the second you dared to come anywhere near the Lady Luck.” She bent down and opened his throat with her dagger, then rose to her feet and started striding back to the rope ladder that they’d used to get down to the beach. “We need to get back to the ship. The crew–”

Cullen took her hand to stop her. “Piper, take a moment to breathe,” he begged.

She pulled away from him with a glare, and Varric held up his hands. “Cap, it’s under control,” he said quietly. “The bad guys were outnumbered on the deck. With Fenris up there now, I’d bet good money that none of them are left alive.”

Piper took a deep breath, then slowly released it. “Fine,” she said in a calmer tone. “But we still need to get up there. And I want to know who these bastards are,” she said with a vicious kick to the nearest enemy’s body. “No one is getting the jump on us again. We’ll be ready for them next time.”

“Of course we will,” Dorian said jovially. “And I’ll make sure to wear my crimson linen trousers from now on. It hides the blood spatter so much more effectively.”

Piper scoffed and punched his arm before leading the way back to the rope ladder. Dorian and Varric made idle jokes as they followed in Piper’s wake, but Cullen couldn’t find it in him to feel lighthearted, not when Piper was so upset.

He picked up his pace and reached out to take her arm. “Piper–”

She pulled her arm away. “Don’t,” she snapped.

He hastily moved his hand away, then peered at her carefully. Was she angry at him? “Piper, if there is something I have done…”

She exhaled slowly, then gave him a serious look. “Not now, Golden Boy,” she said quietly. “My crew need me.” She started climbing up the rope ladder.

Cullen’s heart squeezed at her dismissal, but he tried not to worry too much. She’d called him Golden Boy, after all, so that meant she couldn’t be too angry.

At least that’s what he hoped it meant.

Read the rest on AO3, picking up from Fenris’s POV!

#where the winds of fortune take me #pirate au #cullen rutherford #fenris #cullavellan #cullen/lavellan #cullen x lavellan #piperford #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenrynne #pikascout #schoute draws #pikapeppa writes

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pikapeppa · 5 years

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FenHawke and Cullavellan pirate AU: Silver Lining

Chapter 27 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me is up on AO3!

In which there is a HINT of plot, and some more Fenris/Rynne Hawke smut, because I’m trash. Also, in which @schoute spoils us with TWO pieces of art, one of which you’ll have to go to the chapter to see in full... 😏❤️❤️❤️

Read on AO3 instead! ~6100 words.

- FENRIS -

Light was filtering through Fenris’s closed eyelids. He took a deep, slow breath, and his back pressed into something warm. Someone warm.

Crowded quarters – other slaves’ dirty bodies pressing close as they tried to sleep – stench of sweat and fear and sour vomit – A bolt of panic forced his eyes open.

He scrabbled at the arm that was draped over his waist, but before he could throw it off, he realized where he was and who was pressed against him. At the same moment, she spoke in a husky, sleep-laced voice.

“Fenris?” She shifted against his back, and he released the breath he’d been holding. It was just Hawke. It was just her arm around his waist and her lips now pressing against his scarred skin.

He closed his eyes and breathed carefully while he waited for his heart to slow. Hawke stretched behind him, and then her hands were sliding down his back.

Her fingers stroked the base of his spine before trailing slowly up toward his shoulder blades, and Fenris smiled. She really was incapable of keeping her hands to herself.

He rolled over so he was facing her. “Hawke,” he murmured.

“Top of the morning, sailor,” she said. She smiled and gently pinched his chin.

Her eyelids were heavy with sleep, and Fenris silently studied her beautiful face. Four mornings they’d woken up together now, and this was the first one where he actually felt rested. He may have had a moment of disorientation at first, but he hadn’t yelled at her or pushed her away.

It was better than the night before. He was getting better.

He reached out and ran his hand over her hip. She was naked beneath the plain cotton sheet, and Fenris hooked his arm around her waist to pull her closer.

Her smile broadened, and she pressed her palm to his bare chest. “Good morning to you, too,” she said.

He smiled faintly at her. Her voice was a roughened early-morning purr, and her exploring fingers were moving slowly down his chest, and Fenris held his breath as the tips of her fingers trailed over his navel and below.

She curved her palm over the bulge in his breeches. “My my, this is a very sturdy mainmast indeed.”

He released a slow and steady breath. “I would hope any mainmast you see is sturdy,” he deadpanned. “Otherwise the ship is not seaworthy.” He flexed his hips to meet the heat of her hand.

“Hmm,” she murmured. “I wonder if the sails are tightly trimmed.” She ran her palm slowly along his shaft, lifting a slow wave of lust through his abdomen.

He raised an eyebrow. “That… that doesn’t make sense here.” Then he inhaled sharply; her fingers were creeping into the waistband of his breeches.

She wrapped her fingers around his cock and squeezed, and his eyelids fluttered shut with pleasure. A few blissful strokes later, when Fenris could hear his own breathing through his parted lips, Hawke spoke again in a playful tone. “Well then, I hope the rigging is, um… properly rigged.” She grinned at him, then started laughing.

He exhaled shakily, then smirked at her and pulled her hand out of his breeches. “Was this your attempt to impress me with your vocabulary?” He rolled onto his back and started unlacing his breeches.

“Something like that,” she giggled. “Is it working? Are you impressed?”

“Not at all,” he said. He pushed his breeches down and took hold of her arm. “Come here.”

She beamed at him as she straddled his hips. “Ooh, you’re taking the helm, are you? Will you be sending me straight to the crow’s nest?”

“Shut up, Hawke,” he drawled. He pulled her hips toward him and carefully parted the curls between her legs.

The catching of her breath lit a thrill in his already-buzzing belly. He licked his fingers, then slipped them between her legs to stroke her cleft.

She was wet already. Fenris carefully spread the dampness over her folds, and when she was thrusting her hips to meet his hand, he moved his thumb up to stroke her swollen little bud.

She gasped and braced her hands on his thighs. “Fenris,” she whined. She rocked her hips toward his thumb, sliding her slick heat over his shaft in the process, and it wasn’t long before his breathing was as erratic as hers.

A little sob of pleasure escaped her throat. “Fenris, I want – can you fuck me and touch me at the same time?” she begged. “I don’t know if – can you–?”

“Yes,” he breathed. He repositioned her hips, then slowly and carefully, he pulled her down onto his length.

His breath escaped through his teeth in a pleasured hiss. She was so warm and slick as she took him deep, and when she settled herself fully on his lap, he burst out a gasp of ecstasy at the perfect tightness of her body’s embrace.

She immediately started grinding her hips to his, but Fenris placed a bracing palm on her belly. “Be still, Hawke,” he groaned. “Stay still. Let me…” He reached between her legs once more.

She panted fitfully as he caressed her clit, and Fenris watched avidly until she was holding her breath. Her fingers were clutching his hand that was on her belly, and he breathed slowly to control his pleasure as he watched her nearing her own, her lips parting and her face twisting with rapture as her climax surged closer–

Someone pounded on the door, and Fenris’s heart seized in alarm.

“Fenris,” Dorian yelled. At that moment, Hawke came undone.

She jammed her fist against her mouth to stifle her own cries, and Fenris gritted his teeth as the pulsing of her enraptured body unwittingly pushed his pleasure higher. Dorian, meanwhile, was obliviously talking outside the door. “Piper wants us in her quarters in two minutes. She says the last one to arrive will get a cockroach in their coffee. I don’t know about you, but I’m not looking for that exotic Afsaana flavour in mine.” Then, thankfully, his footsteps moved away.

Venhedis fasta vass, Fenris thought furiously. Hawke was trembling from the end of her climax, and somehow he was still hard despite his racing heart, and… kaffas and curses, he had to leave for that blasted officers’ meeting.

Hawke shifted sinuously on top of him, and he groaned. “Hawke,” he begged. “I… I can’t…”

“I know,” she breathed. “Just another minute.” Her seductive hips continued to roll against him with all the lovely rhythm of an ocean wave, and Fenris ceded to her exquisite body for a minute. Just one more minute – a glorious, heated, mind-numbing minute…

There was another knock at the door, and this time it was accompanied by Varric’s voice. “Hey elf,” he called, “Piper is–”

“I’m on my way,” Fenris barked. Then Hawke cut him off with a hard kiss.

She clasped his neck and moaned into his mouth, but he still heard Varric’s reply. “Heh. I thought romance made people less grumpy. Guess I’ll have to change my book.” Varric’s footsteps faded away.

Hawke broke their kiss and started laughing silently against Fenris’s cheek. He dragged in a few desperate breaths, then pinched her waist until she squeaked. “I’m pleased that one of us is amused,” he said snarkily, and he shifted her off of his lap.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she gasped, and she fell about laughing again. “I’m just – oh, Fenris. I’m so sorry.”

“It is not your fault,” he grunted. He pulled his breeches over his pulsing cock, then hastily grabbed a tunic from the chest in the corner and pulled it over his head as quickly as he could despite his wounded side, careful all the while not to look at Hawke’s infinitely tempting naked body sprawled across his bed.

“Don’t forget to get some elfroot tea,” she giggled. “For the wound–”

“Yes, I know,” he said distractedly. He strode toward the door, then briefly glanced at her before he left. She was lounging on her belly with a grin on her lips and a tuft of dark messy hair half-covering her face, and she was the most appealing thing he’d ever seen.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she purred.

He dragged a hand through his hair. “I will hold you to that,” he said, and he left his cabin before her bright mischievous grin could tempt him to stay.

He stalked toward Piper’s cabin, then gave the door a cursory knock before pushing it open. He strode over to the table, noting vaguely that Merrill was also present, then bad-temperedly dropped into his usual seat across from Dorian.

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Someone woke up late and cranky. You shouldn’t frown so much, Fenris, you’ll give yourself wrinkles.”

Fenris glared at him. “Vishante kaffas. Keep your unwanted beauty advice.”

Dorian chuckled unrepentantly. Then Piper rapped her knuckles on the table. “Hey,” she snapped. She pointed at Dorian. “You. Be nice to the grump. And you.” She pointed at Fenris, then folded her arms. “Cheer the fuck up. And next time you want to not be disturbed, tie a kerchief on the doorknob. That’s common knowledge, Fen.”

Fenris glared at Piper instead, but she only raised an eyebrow. Dorian, meanwhile, clapped his hands. “Ah, of course! Morning glory, how splendid. It all makes sense now.”

Varric shook his head in amusement, and Fenris scowled at the table while silently cursing his burning ears. Cullen, meanwhile, cleared his throat delicately. “Should we, er, carry on with this meeting…?”

“Yes,” Piper said. She opened her arms grandly. “By my power as the grand and glorious captain aboard this here vessel, I declare this meeting of the Lady Luck’s officers officially begun!”

Dorian turned to look at her incredulously, and Varric raised an eyebrow. Cullen, meanwhile, blinked in surprise. “Is that how you usually start these meetings?”

“No,” she said breezily. She grinned at him and plopped down in her chair at the head of the table. “That was for your benefit, Golden Boy. A little pomp and circumstance to ease you into our casual ways.”

“Ah,” Cullen said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, thank you, I suppose.”

Fenris grunted. “Don’t encourage her. She’ll only continue with even more terrible antics.”

Piper selected a peanut from the dish on the table and flicked it at his head. “All right, boys and girl,” she said with a gracious nod to Merrill, who was sitting next to her. “Let’s get to it. We’ve got a lot to discuss. Merrill and I have an idea, and it’s a pretty bold one. I’m going to let her take the lead in explaining it.”

Merrill smiled at Piper, then stood up and looked at them all with wide eyes. “I’ve been doing some research,” she said eagerly. “Finding books during our travels and artifacts during our trips outside of town, like the camping trip I took with Fenris and Hawke – thank you for having me on that trip, Fenris, it was very educational–”

He waved a dismissive hand. “No need for thanks. You were there to guide us, as you’ll recall.”

She beamed at him, then placed her fingers delicately on the tabletop. “I think I’ve discovered something grand. Something potentially lucrative, as well, since I know it’s been some time since our last raid.” She looked at Varric.

He winked at her. “Hearing you loud and clear, Daisy.”

She smiled, then pulled a large scroll of parchment out of her apron pocket. She rolled the scroll out on the table, and Fenris instantly recognized it from their Sundermount trip.

Sure enough, Merrill began to explain its origin to them. “This is a rubbing I took from a cave in Sundermount. It’s ancient Elvhen, unfortunately, so you won’t be able to read it, but this is what I wanted to point out.” She pointed to a somewhat blurry-looking character toward the middle of the page. “This says Vir’Tualthalan. In Elvhen, it means ‘The Way of Renewal’.”

Dorian looked up with a grin. “You mean the Fountain of Youth.”

Merrill nodded. “That’s another term for it, yes.”

Dorian chuckled and elbowed Varric. Fenris, on the other hand, was unamused. He raised an eyebrow at her and sat back in his chair. “That is just a story. A legend told by the greedy and the idle.”

“Hey,” Piper said playfully. “Watch who you’re calling greedy and idle.”

Fenris shot her a sardonic look and folded his arms. “The Fountain of Youth is not real.”

Merrill nodded earnestly. “It may not really be a magic fountain, no. But according to the rubbings I found, there is something there that was important in the times of the ancient elves.” She widened her eyes even further, as though that would convince him. “There was something there to start the legends, don’t you see? Whether it was a magical home of the gods or a temple dedicated to their worship, there was something there.” She straightened and lifted her chin. “And I – Piper and I – we would like to go exploring there and find out what it is.”

Cullen stroked his chin slowly, then turned to Piper. “This is the adventure you were proposing?”

She nodded. “It is, yes. I will say outright that this is what I want to do next. But only if everyone is in agreement.” She looked directly at Fenris.

He frowned. Why was she looking at him? Before he could ask, Varric spoke to Piper. “Interesting that you’re not vetoing it, then, if you want to go that badly.”

Piper snorted in amusement. “Since I’m usually such a tyrant, right?”

Varric smirked at her. “You know what I mean, Cap. If you wanted to go looking for the Fountain of Youth, you know we’d have your back. What’s different this time?”

Dorian stroked his mustache slowly. “Yes, what is different this time?”

Piper raised her eyebrows at Merrill, and Merrill took a deep breath before speaking. “The Vir’Tualthalan is in the Arlathan Forest.”

Fenris instantly spotted the problem. “No,” he said.

Merrill held out a placating hand. “Fenris, before you say no–”

“I already said it,” he said. “That forest shares a border with the Imperium.”

“I know,” Merrill said hurriedly, “but the Arlathan Forest itself is a neutral zone.”

Fenris waved off her words. “It is unclaimed territory, not a neutral zone. That is not the same thing.” He could hear the hardness in his own voice, but he couldn’t help it. Merrill and Piper were proposing to sail back toward the mouth of Tevinter, and they thought he would agree to this?

“Actually,” Merrill said breathlessly, “it is a neutral zone.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows in surprise as she pulled more papers out of her apron pocket. “I looked around in the bookshop in Afsaana, and I went to the law office with Kaaras, and I found – Elgar’nan, you wouldn’t believe the strange laws I found there! There was a copy of one old Kirkwall law about how many chickens are allowed to travel on a single rowboat for a distance of–”

Piper cleared her throat. “Merrill?”

Merrill tittered. “Right, yes, I’m babbling. Um, I – I found a legal document from thirty-two years ago, signed between the Tevinter Imperium and the qunari’s Arishok.” She smoothed one particular page out on the table and looked around at them all once more. “It states that the Arlathan Forest is a political neutral zone. I transcribed a copy.” She pointed at the page. “It says right here: ‘no man or qunari shall set a claim in the Forest of Arlathan, nor establish habitations for longer than two nights for urgent situations only, after which he will be forced to–’”

Dorian sighed. “All right, we get the point, legalities and so on.”

“I want to hear it,” Fenris said fiercely.

“I would too, actually,” Cullen interrupted. He smiled sheepishly at Piper, who smiled fondly back at him.

Merrill nodded eagerly, then continued to read. “‘...after which he will be forced to vacate the territory, staking no claim and bearing no ownership over any part of the land or any items found therein. This agreement binds all men of the Tevinter Imperium and all agents of the Qun until renegotiated between the Emperor of Tevinter and the Arishok of the Qunandar.’” She stopped and looked at them expectantly.

Fenris frowned. “That’s it?”

“Yes,” Merrill said brightly.

Fenris frowned more deeply, and Cullen verbalized his thoughts. “That can’t be all. There is no end date to that contract.”

“Exactly,” Merrill said excitedly. “That means it’s still in effect!”

Fenris folded his arms. “If it’s undated, it might be a false document.”

Merrill shook her head. “It was verified. Kaaras witnessed it,” she said. “You can ask him if you don’t believe me.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes. Merrill knew full well that Kaaras was the one other crew member not in this room that he would trust about something like this.

Very strategic, he thought suspiciously. It seemed almost as though she’d put together this entire proposal to sway him specifically.

Thankfully, Cullen was also skeptical. “Even if the document was verified, that strikes me as extremely odd that there was no end date,” he said. “I have never encountered a contract without a date for renegotiation.” He looked at Dorian. “Is that common in Tevinter?”

“No, actually,” Dorian said. “We Tevinters may sacrifice goats to the Old Gods in order to climb the social ladder over our neighbours’ sons, but we also like end dates on our contracts just like any other civilized country.”

Varric grinned at him. “You don’t actually sacrifice goats, do you?”

“No,” Dorian said casually. “Funny story, though–”

Fenris interrupted them. “So this contract states that the Arlathan Forest is a neutral zone. What is your point?”

“Don’t you see?” Merrill said brightly. “It’s a safe place. Tevinters can’t enter it!”

“Just because they are legally forbidden doesn’t mean they won’t,” Fenris retorted.

“But they don’t!” she exclaimed. “They don’t go there, Fenris. I looked at the historical records at the legal office, and we spoke to the friendlier tal-vashoth in the town, and everything I’ve found indicates that both the qunari and the Tevinter Imperium respect this contract.” She hugged the papers to her chest and gazed at him pleadingly. “People don’t go to the Arlathan Forest, Fenris. It’s uncharted territory. I haven’t even been able to find accurate maps of the forest. It’s… it’s marvelous.”

Cullen grimaced. “It sounds dangerous.”

“Yes, it does,” Fenris said. “Recklessly so.” He was increasingly grateful that Cullen was here. At least someone else in this room had a modicum of self-preservation.

Piper spoke up. “Dangerous indeed. Exciting, right?” She shot Cullen a debonair grin.

“No,” Fenris said flatly. “It is just dangerous. Tevinter on one side, the qunari guarding the mouth of the canal–”

Piper leaned forward in her chair. “The qunari won’t touch us if we don’t antagonize them. They’re too busy warring with Tevinter.”

Fenris pointed accusingly at her. “I swore I would never go back to Tevinter,” he said forcefully. “That place is a cesspool of slavery and murder!”

Dorian tutted. “Ah, we’re not all bad.”

Fenris scowled at him. “You are not. Your countrymen, on the other hand–”

Merrill cut him off. “It’s not the Imperium, Fenris,” she said calmly. “It’s the Arlathan Forest. It’s completely different.”

He gazed at her in rising frustration. “How can you know that? How can you be so sure that a land directly adjacent to Tevinter is safer than Tevinter?”

“Because it’s ours,” Merrill said insistently. “The Arlathan Forest is ours, Fenris. It’s one of the ancestral homes of our people. Why do you think the Tevinters and the qunari won’t go there? There’s something there protecting it, that’s why!”

At this, Piper grimaced and tugged one of her braids, and in Fenris’s opinion, the gesture was very telling. If this was the point of the plan where even Piper was skeptical, then it was foolhardy in the extreme.

He folded his arms and pinned Merrill with a sarcastic stare. “Ah. Of course. Elvhen magic or gods or something of the like is protecting the forest. That is your explanation?”

“That’s what I think, yes,” Merrill said firmly. “But that’s not why Piper wants to go.”

Fenris turned to Piper. “And why do you want to go?” he demanded.

“Because it’s an adventure, of course,” Piper said. “A new place we’ve never been before, that possibly no one has been in decades. And if we’re being pragmatic, there’s the potential for loot, which is very high. You all know how much I love booty.” She winked at Cullen, who promptly flushed.

Fenris gave her a chiding look, but she simply smiled in that obnoxiously confident shit-eating way of hers. Annoyed, he looked at Varric and waved at the documents on the table. “What do you think of this?”

Varric shrugged affably. “I’m just along for the ride. If the captain wants to go, and she and Daisy think it’s safe… eh, why not.”

Fenris frowned, then jerked his chin at Dorian. “And you?”

Dorian shrugged as well. “I’m as partial to booty as the next man. Or woman,” he added with a polite nod to Piper, who did a little dramatic bow from her chair.

Fenris snorted. “Of course you are.” He looked at Cullen. “You have your doubts, however.”

He sighed. “I do,” he said. He gave Piper an apologetic look. “This is… this strikes me as needlessly risky, Piper.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I will confess I have never gone somewhere uncharted before. I don’t see how we can safeguard against the risks if we don’t know what we are facing.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “‘Uncharted’ is just another way of saying ‘ripe for discovery’. Even Fen can admit that going to new and unknown places is part and parcel of the pirate life.” She shot Fenris a challenging look.

He shrugged bad-temperedly. On that front, she wasn’t wrong.

Cullen studied the papers on the table for another moment. Then he squeezed Piper’s fingers and nodded. “All right. If this is how things are done, then… then I am willing to try it.”

Fenris frowned. Piper released Cullen’s hand, then leaned back in her chair and kicked her dirty bare feet up on the table. “Fenris, it’s down to you. But listen: the Arlathan Forest is not Tevinter, all right? And we’ll all be going there together. Part of the ship, part of the crew.”

Her voice was brisk and businesslike, but there was a certain softness to her hazel eyes that annoyed him for some reason. He frowned at his lap and plucked at the red ribbon on his wrist, irritated at being put on the spot.

For a few awkward seconds, no one spoke. Then there was a knock at the door.

Piper looked up. “Come in,” she called.

The door opened, and Fenris’s heart did a little flip. It was Hawke, and she had a cup and saucer in her hands.

“Morning, everyone!” she chirped. “Sorry to interrupt, I’ll be in and out so quickly you won’t even realize I’m here…” She hurried over to the table, and to Fenris’s surprise, she placed the cup and saucer on the table in front of him.

He blinked. “What–?”

“It’s elfroot tea,” she said. “You forgot.” She winked at him.

“Ah,” he said blankly. “I… thank you.” He picked up the cup.

She stroked the back of his neck affectionately, and the gesture sent a shiver of contentment down his spine. Then she perked up as she looked at the table. “Oh, is this the rubbing we took from Sundermount?” she asked Merrill excitedly.

“Yes!” Merrill chirped. “We were just discussing if we’re going to go to the Vir’Tual– er, the Fountain of Youth.”

“Really?” Hawke gasped. “That was an actual option? I thought you were just telling me stories.”

“It is just a story,” Fenris protested.

Merrill’s shoulders drooped slightly. “But I already told you, there must be something there that started the stories.” She sounded faintly exasperated now, and Fenris shot her an exasperated look in kind.

Then Hawke spoke up. “I would love to see an ancient elven ruin,” she said with relish. “I mean, I would love to see everything since I’ve barely seen, well, anything, but can you imagine how exciting it would be to find a lost temple in the middle of the forest? Exploring an untouched forest on an epic adventure?” She clapped her hands and beamed at everyone.

Then her face fell. “Oh fuck. I’m interrupting.”

Piper folded her hands behind her head. “Technically yes, you are.”

Hawke’s cheek’s started to pinken. “Fuck. Maker’s balls. I mean – my apologies, Captain, officers, everyone.” She did a little curtsy, then looked at Fenris. “Drink that up, all right? I’ll – oh my, is that Anders calling me? Must go, very busy, organs to dissect, you know how it is…” She laughed brightly, then hurried away.

From the corner of his eye, Fenris watched her go. Once the door was closed behind her, he sipped from his cup of elfroot tea.

Silence fell over the room again, broken only by the soft ticking of Piper’s stolen Antivan clock. Fenris drank some more of his elfroot, and when the silence was so heavy that it started to make his teeth hurt, he plonked the cup back in its saucer.

“Fine. Fine,” he grunted. “We will go on your blasted adventure.”

Merrill whooped in delight and clapped her hands, but Fenris wasn’t finished. He pointed threateningly at Piper. “If we cross any slavers–”

“No mercy,” Piper said shortly. “That will never change, obviously.”

He stared at her intently. “I mean it, Piper. I will not be chained again.”

Piper replaced her feet on the floor and rose from her chair. “No one who travels with me will ever be chained again,” she said seriously. “You know that.”

Her expression was hard and uncompromising, and Fenris relaxed at the sight of it. At long last, he sat back in his chair and nodded.

Piper studied him for a moment longer, then smiled. “All right, let’s be official about it. All in favour of going to Arlathan Forest?”

They all raised their hands, including Fenris.

Piper’s smile widened. “All against?”

Fenris sighed but didn’t raise his hand, and no one else did either.

Piper tucked her hands in her pockets and grinned. “That settles it. The Lady Luck is heading to the Arlathan Forest. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

Merrill clapped again and hugged Piper. Dorian stood up and stretched. “Excellent,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to put away before we set sail.”

Varric chuckled as he pushed back his own chair. “You’re still unpacking your new clothes?”

“Unpacking and admiring,” Dorian corrected. “You should come and inspect my new collection, Varric. I’m quite certain you’ll be green with jealousy.”

“With nausea, maybe,” Varric drawled. “Another time. Curly and I have work to do.”

Cullen nodded agreeably. “That we do,” he said. He stood up as well, then gave Piper a small half-bow. “Thank you for the meeting, Captain.”

She grinned at him and patted his arm. “You’re welcome, Golden Boy. Loosen up next time and put your feet up on the table, why don’t you?” She kissed his cheek.

He smiled bashfully, then left her quarters with Dorian and Varric, leaving Fenris and Piper alone.

Fenris stood up and eyed her appraisingly. “You did that on purpose.”

She blinked. “Did what?”

Fenris gave her a very skeptical look. “You didn’t make Hawke leave right away.”

Piper casually inspected her fingernails. “It’s the Captain’s prerogative to have extra opinions in the room as I deem fit. Like Merrill’s, for instance. Or Rynne’s.” She smirked at him knowingly.

Fenris harrumphed. “You’re trying to manipulate me,” he accused, but with much less heat than he would have a couple of months ago.

Her smirk fell away, leaving her face serious once more. “I would never,” she said to him. “You were on the edge of saying yes. You just needed a last little push. Something to remind you that everything doesn't have to be shitty.” She gestured at the door. “Hawke is the silver lining to your stormcloud.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows, then snorted. “Poetic metaphor? From you? You must be in love. Either that or you are drunk.”

She grinned at him, but her bronze cheeks were deepening with a telltale flush of pink. “Are you saying I’m stupid?” she quipped.

Fenris smirked at her. “I didn’t say that. You said it yourself.”

She laughed and punched his arm. “Get the fuck out, you insubordinate shithead.”

He huffed in amusement, then turned away and sauntered toward the door. Before he could leave, however, Piper called out to him. “Hey, Fen. What’s my poetic metaphor with Cullen?”

He turned and raised an eyebrow at her. “Why are you asking me?”

“Fair’s fair. I told you yours,” she said. She folded her arms and lifted her chin. “What’s mine and Cullen’s?”

Fenris tilted his head. The answers was obvious. “He’s the port to your storm,” he said.

Piper grinned. “Are you calling me a storm, then?”

“Yes,” Fenris said. “Do you disagree?”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Not at all.”

He smirked at her, then left her cabin and closed the door behind him. Then he turned and bumped into Cole.

He jumped in alarm, then scowled. Dorian’s blasted assistant always seemed to sneak up on him. “Fasta vass,” he muttered. “Cole–”

“Do you hear it?” Cole asked.

Fenris scowled more deeply. “Hear what?” he said suspiciously.

“The song,” Cole said dreamily. “It plays, pulls, pulling the old blood, prying open and plucking your hearts like fingers on a mandolin.” His pale blue eyes drifted slowly to Fenris’s face. “Do you hear it?”

A chill ran down Fenris’s spine, and he folded his arms defensively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cole nodded slowly. “You will. It’s all right. I’ll help.” He meandered down the narrow corridor to Dorian’s quarters.

Fenris glared at his back, then made his way up to the deck. He spent the next two hours maintaining the weapons inventory and sparring with Kaaras and Rylen, and when Hawke eventually emerged from the infirmary after her lessons with Anders, he was more than eager for her company.

She smiled and bounced over to his side, but her face fell into worry as she drew near. “Was Piper angry that I interrupted your meeting?” she asked. “I didn’t mean to start blathering like that. I’m just so excited at the thought of going somewhere new.” She gasped suddenly, and her face lit up. “Do you think I should start getting tattoos for every place I go, like Piper has? Or maybe earrings like Dorian? I could get two new piercings already for Afsaana and Rialto! But I wonder how long it would take them to heal…”

Fenris gazed at her with a swelling heart as she talked. She was so bright and optimistic despite her own painful past. She liked to talk – fasta vass, did she like to talk – but she listened just as intently, causing Fenris to tell her more than he had ever really meant to tell anyone. Her mere presence made his muscles relax, almost as though her nearness alone was as good as the stroke of her soothing hands on his skin, and…

And Piper was right. Hawke was his silver lining, the silver lining that shone on him and made him feel brighter with every day in her presence.

He swallowed hard, then placed one hand at the small of her back. “Come with me.”

Her smile grew cheeky. “Where to?” she said innocently.

He huffed. “You know exactly where,” he grumbled. He led her back to his quarters, and a minute later they were standing in the blessed privacy of his cabin once more.

Without giving her time to speak, he tipped her chin up with one hand and kissed her. He tenderly cradled her throat as they kissed, stroking the delicate tendon that trailed down to her collarbone.

She grasped his wrist and pulled his hand down to cup her breast, and Fenris broke their kiss to sigh against her lips. She was wearing no bustier or breastband, and her nipple was a hard little bead against his palm, separated from his skin only by the thin fabric of her shirt…

He rolled her nipple between his fingers, and she arched her chest. “I take it your meeting went well, then?” she gasped.

He pressed his forehead to hers and cupped her neck in his palm once more. “Hawke,” he rasped.

“Yes?” she breathed.

I love you, he thought. Hawke, I love you. He breathed hard for a moment and tried to force his frozen tongue to speak. Why was it so hard to say this? Why did this truth feel like foreign words on his tongue?

He gazed with growing frustration at her guileless coppery eyes, then kissed her hard and walked her back toward the bed. He pushed her down and pulled off her shirt, and a few rushed heartbeats later they were naked on the bed, and he was rocking against her slickness and spreading her warmth over them both.

He clasped her precious face in his hands. Her face was eager with lust, lips flushed and eyes wide as she returned his gormless stare. When Fenris flexed his hips and slid inside of her, her fingers tensed and dug into his hips.

She arched her neck and released a beautiful little mewl of pleasure. Surrounded by her heat and her scent and her pleasured cries in his ears, Fenris finally found his tongue.

“I love you,” he said.

She looked at him sharply. When he didn’t look away, a huge and beautiful smile lit her face.

She laughed breathlessly and tightened her arms around him. “Oh Fenris, you don’t… you don’t have to say it just because I said it so soon–”

He thrust into her once more, and she broke off with a gasp that he captured with his lips. He rolled his hips toward her, and when they were moving and breathing together in a perfect rhythm that made his pleasure pulse higher with every thrust, he broke their kiss and pulled back slightly to gaze into her eyes.

“It has nothing to do with being too soon,” he panted. “I mean what I said. I love you, Rynne.”

Her smile was like a firework of joy bursting across her face, and Fenris gently wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. He moved slowly inside of her again, watching carefully as her smile morphed into a beautiful painting of pleasure, and with her every cry and every clenching of her fingers against his back, his own pleasure rose higher, lifting and surging with every forceful thrust of his hips until it crested in a wave of ecstasy.

He shuddered and gasped into her parted lips. “Hawke,” he moaned. “I–”

She kissed him hard, and her arms enfolded him in a tight embrace. When his body was still and relaxed once more, she kissed his cheek, then pressed her lips to his ear.

“I love you too, Fenris,” she whispered.

Her fingers curled in a soothing scratch at the back of his neck. Fenris sighed against her throat and closed his eyes. In the wake of the meeting he’d just had and the endeavour they were about to embark on, he should be feeling anxious and tense with the dangers that would likely come their way, no matter what precautions Piper and their whole crew would take.

But here with Hawke, he didn’t feel tense. His body was sated and replete, and his chest felt deliciously full with all that he’d confessed, and this feeling of goodness and wellbeing was still so new and precious that all he wanted was to lie with Hawke and savour it.

And so he did. For the first time since Fenris had begun training her, he and Hawke took a break from their combat lessons. Instead, they lay tangled in his plain cotton sheets, and Hawke stroked his skin with her tender palms while he stroked the cries of ecstasy from her throat. And with every hour that they spent murmuring and moving together as the afternoon sunlight slid past his porthole window, Fenris’s perpetually-worried heart felt more and more at peace.

There were risks looming ahead that couldn’t be avoided; he was certain of this. But for the first time that he could remember, he didn’t entirely mind.

There may be clouds on the horizon, but with Hawke by his side, Fenris had a silver lining to brighten his way.

Please check out the art at the end of the chapter!! It’s amazing!!

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pikapeppa · 5 years

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Fenris/f!Hawke gift fic: Fereldan breakfast

A little gift fic for the talented and incredible @essequamvideri20, who makes the most incredible Fenris and Fenhawke art and is such a loyal and lovely reader!!!

This fic features @essequamvideri20‘s Eris Hawke and Fenris. This is my first time writing a friendmance Fenris, so honestly I hope it’s okay... [laughs nervously in Tevene]

Posting for @dadrunkwriting Friday; I decided to incorporate a little prompt from @contreparry in here as well. Thanks, friend!

Fenris knew something was wrong the moment he opened his front door.

Hawke stood on his front step with a crooked little smile, and Fenris’s eyebrows jumped up on his forehead. “Hawke?” he said in surprise. He hadn’t expected to see her today; she’d told him and the rest of the crew that she would be spending the afternoon with Leandra and Gamlen.

“Hello,” she said. She ran a hand over the top of her dark-haired head. It was a sure sign of nerves, and Fenris frowned slightly as he stood back to let her in.

“What’s happened?” he asked. “I thought you would be with your family today.”

“I was,” she said. She sidled past him and came inside. “I told my mother that I’d finally gathered the gold and the paperwork we need to get her estate back.”

“All right,” Fenris said slowly. “That would appear to be a good thing.” But clearly it was not. Hawke was standing awkwardly beside the scratched-up dining table in his foyer, and she was utterly still – the kind of stillness that Fenris had only noticed on the rare occasions when she was deeply bothered by something.

It was a side of Hawke that few people seemed to see. The dark-haired mage put on a good show of charm and social ease, and it had taken months for Fenris to realize that that’s exactly what it was: a show. Hawke’s wide smile was a mask she adopted to cope with the fact that she garnered so much attention and fame that she’d never really wanted.

He gestured for her to take a seat. “I take it your mother was somehow displeased?” he said, only slightly sardonically. On the few occasions Fenris had met her, Leandra Hawke always seemed to be displeased about one thing or another.

Hawke shot him a tiny smile as she sat at the table. “How did you guess?”

He quietly took a seat as well, and Hawke sighed. “No, she wasn’t pleased. Despite the fact that the estate is all she’s been able to talk about for months. When she’s not talking about…” She swallowed. “... about Bethany or Carver.” She stared blankly at the tabletop for a long moment, then laughed lightly and ran another hand over her smoothed-back hair. “I’m… so sorry, Fenris. Here I come bursting into your house and interrupting your day just to sit here like a golem...”

“It’s all right,” Fenris said. Hawke’s quiet company was hardly an imposition. But he did have to wonder why she’d come here in the first place.

Funnily enough, she seemed to read his thoughts. She ducked her head slightly and scratched her ear. “I just, um. I just wanted a little quiet. Somewhere to clear my head… Is that all right? I – I can go to Varric’s instead–“

Fenris leaned back in his chair and smirked. “You do recall that Varric lives at the Hanged Man, yes? And that Isabela lives there as well? It’s the perfect place to go if you were seeking a brawl or an outlandish story. A moment of peace…” He shrugged. “Not so much.”

She laughed. “True enough. I… well, if you don’t mind my staying for a while. You can – you don’t have to entertain me. I’ll stay out of your hair, I promise.”

“It is not a problem,” Fenris said. “As long as you truly don’t expect to be entertained. I will be busy practicing my choreography.”

She grinned at the long-standing joke. “I’m sorry, you expect me to not be entertained by that?”

“You won’t be,” Fenris said smoothly. “I will be in the back. No spectators permitted.”

She chuckled, and he rose from the table and pretended his heart wasn’t fluttering from the sound of her laugh. “Make yourself comfortable,” he invited. “As much as, er, possible, given the state of… things.” He glanced around the mansion, which had remained in the same filthy state since he’d first planted himself here just over a year ago.

Hawke, as usual, didn’t seem to mind the mess. She smiled gratefully at him as he stood. “Thank you, Fenris. Really. I won’t bother you, I promise.”

He vaguely waved a hand as he stepped away. “It’s no bother.” Then he wandered somewhat awkwardly away to the back of the house.

Now that Hawke was here, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. It was… strange for someone else to be here. Not that Fenris never had visitors; Hawke visited him not infrequently, and Varric and Isabela were known to stop by as well.

But this was different. Usually when Hawke came, he spent the time with her, conversing about magical theory and the few ways that magic could be safely used by those rare mages who had the control and the knowledge to properly work it. It seemed strange that he was just leaving her to her own devices.

Well, she is seeking peace. She shall have it, he thought. He returned to his bedroom and milled around aimlessly for a bit, then finally settled on sharpening his weapons.

Some time later, when suppertime was drawing near, Fenris emerged from the back of the house on the pretext of going out for something to ea. He was slightly surprised – and admittedly slightly disappointed – to see that Hawke wasn’t there.

Even more surprising, however, was the discovery that the foyer area was… tidy. Not clean, necessarily — scouring away the years of filth on the floors and windows would take serious elbow grease that Fenris had never had the wherewithal to invest. But the rusted armour and broken pottery that was normally clustered in the corners, and the papers and torn books that customarily sprinkled the floor, were all gone.

He warily eyed the semi-respectable-looking space. “Hawke?” he called.

“In here!” She was in the library, which contained shelves upon shelves of mildewed books, and Fenris wandered over to see what she was up to.

He poked his head in the door. Hawke was crouched on the floor with her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and there was a basket of broken dishware and debris on the ground in front of her.

Fenris raised his eyebrows. “Are you… why are you cleaning?”

She looked up and brushed a stray strand of hair back toward her bun. “Oh, just keeping my hands busy,” she said. Then her eyes widened. “Is that all right? I didn’t think to ask…”

“It’s… it is fine, I suppose,” he said, but he was feeling a bit nonplussed. She didn’t need to clean this house. It was a magister’s mansion. It didn’t deserve the care that she was showing it now by tidying the filth that filled it.

“Oh Maker, I’m so sorry,” she blurted. She rose quickly to her feet, and Fenris watched with some alarm as her cheeks went red. “I should have asked before I started going through your things, how rude of me–”

He stepped into the room. “Hawke, it’s all right,” he interrupted. “They’re not my things. I don’t… You are free to go through it as you see fit. I’m simply surprised to find you cleaning.”

She shrugged, and Fenris watched as the tension slowly left her shoulders. “It helps me think,” she said. “Besides, I figured it was a good cause.” She smiled slowly at him. “I hate to tell you this, Fenris, but your house is a bit of a pigsty.”

He scoffed. “You think so? I think it has a certain macabre charm.” He eyed the desiccated remains of a mouse that were lying pitifully beside a pile of rust-eaten nails and bolts, then looked at her again. “Besides, it is not my house.”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Of course it is. You’ve lived here for more than a year uncontested. Perhaps it’s not registered in your name at the Viscount’s office, but this house is as good as yours.”

He shrugged. “I suppose you would know best about these things, what with… well. Procuring your… the family estate.” He trailed off a bit lamely as he realized how tactless his words might sound, given her discomfort about the Amell estate when she’d first arrived here this afternoon.

Her smile softened slightly, and she dropped her gaze. “Yes, I suppose.” She crouched beside the basket once more and kept picking up the bits of torn paper and other junk from the floor.

Kaffas, he thought. He hadn’t meant to upset her. He stepped closer, then tentatively crouched down and picked up the broken shards of a teacup.

“Do you wish to speak of what happened today?” he asked. He deposited the shards in her basket.

She glanced at him as she continued to collect the trash on the floor, and Fenris quietly did the same until she dusted her hands off on her leggings. “Well. We have everything need to buy back the estate. It’s as good as ours, in fact,” she said. “I spent the whole morning at the Viscount’s Keep getting the papers signed, and you know how much I love the Viscount’s Keep.”

Fenris smirked at her dry tone. Then she sighed. “I took a copy of the papers home to show my mother, and…” She sighed. “Honestly, Fenris, I don’t know what I expected. But I didn’t expect her to start screaming at me that I was trying to buy her off for getting Bethany killed and Carver sent to the Wardens.”

Fenris stopped and stared at her. “That is how she reacted?”

“Yes,” she said. Her eyes were on the basket of trash, and she was idly toying with a mildew-spotted slipper. “Thankfully Gamlen stepped in.”

Fenris looked at her with even greater surprise. “He did?”

She released a little laugh. “Well, in a way. He snapped at her to stop complaining because now she had a big enormous house to live in, while he only had ‘this filthy hovel’. She started yelling at him instead, and I made my escape while I had the chance.” She waved vaguely at herself. “And here we are.”

“Here you are,” Fenris confirmed. “Cleaning a different filthy hovel instead.” He smiled at her and tossed a dirty crumpled handkerchief into the basket.

She chuckled and started tidying again. “Well, for what it’s worth, I like it better here. The company is far nicer.”

His belly jolted a little bit, and he glanced at her. She was smiling still, but her gaze was tracking across the floor for further trash.

Fenris surreptitiously cleared his throat. “Well, I believe congratulations are in order.”

She looked up quizzically, and Fenris gestured at her. “For obtaining the rights to the estate,” he clarified. “You have been working toward that for a long time. It is something you can call your own. You should be proud.”

She dropped her eyes and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Well, it’s not mine really, I did it for–”

“Hawke,” Fenris said firmly. “It’s an achievement worthy of pride. Enjoy this moment.”

She finally met his gaze, and Fenris admired her storm-coloured eyes as she smiled. “All right,” she said softly. “I… I’ll try. It might be difficult with my mother’s harping, but I suppose that’s what earplugs are for.” She chuckled softly.

Fenris studied her for a moment as she continued to crawl around picking up garbage. Finally he rose to his feet. “I was going to go to the market for my evening meal,” he said. “Would you care to join me?”

She looked up with slightly widened eyes, then smiled and stood as well. “You know what, I didn’t realize I was hungry until you mentioned food. I would love to.” She sighed as she followed him toward the front door. “I should probably go back to Gamlen’s afterwards. I didn’t really say anything to my mother before I left the house. She might think I’ve gone and deprived her of her one remaining child.”

Fenris frowned. Her tone was light, but there was no mistaking the sadness in her face.

He reached for the doorknob, then paused. Hawke blinked at him. “Did you forget something?”

Fenris licked his lips. Before he could stop to think, he looked at her. “Stay here tonight.”

Her jaw dropped slightly, and Fenris’s ears instantly went hot. “I meant – as a break from your family,” he said hastily. “Rather than going back to Gamlen’s. I… there is plenty of room here. And… well, there are no other beds. But there is – you are welcome to have my bed,” he hurried on as Hawke continued to stare at him. “I will sleep on the chaise in the study.” He scratched the back of his overheated neck. “Unless you think your mother would send the city guard after you…”

“I would like that,” Hawke said.

Fenris looked her in the eye. Her cheek were slightly pink, but her expression was nothing but relieved. “Honestly, Fenris, I was trying to find some alternative to going back to Gamlen’s. My mother, she…” Hawke took a deep breath and rubbed her mouth, then smiled at him once more. “Truly, thank you. I just… thank you.”

He nodded. “You are very welcome,” he said, and he opened the door and gestured politely for her to precede him.

She smiled and stepped out the door, and Fenris released a slow breath of relief. Fasta vass, that had been awkward. He’d almost given the impression that he wanted… Well, not that he would be opposed to the idea per se, but not if she thought he was taking advantage. If ever he thought Hawke was similarly interested too, however...?

A flash of a thought entered his mind: his fingers twined in Hawke’s long dark hair, her chin tilted up to expose the pulse in her bare throat. A flush of heat filled his belly, followed by a flash of undeniable fear at the thought her seeing him similarly exposed.

“Fenris? Are you coming?” She adjusted her staff on her back and glanced askance at him over her shoulder, and he nodded and pushed the fanciful thoughts aside as he closed the door behind him.

Now was not the time to be thinking of such idle things. Fenris would have a houseguest tonight – something he had never before had – and that thought alone was overwhelming enough without the added element of his attraction to the woman who would be sleeping in his bed.

********************

Hawke’s night at his house was uneventful – or for Hawke at least, it seemed to be. She insisted on sleeping in the study, and once she’d settled in for the night under Fenris’s one spare threadbare blanket, his keen ears detected only the slow and easy cadence of her breathing as she fell asleep.

Fenris, on the other hand, lay awake for hours after Hawke went to sleep. He stared vacantly at the ceiling, then at the glowing embers in his bedroom fireplace, then at the stacks of cobweb-covered books in the corners, and all the while he thought of the strangeness of having someone else in this house.

Fenris was accustomed to his solitude. Over the years of his constant flight from Danarius, he’d grown used to being alone; being alone was familiar and safe, and it afforded no chances for ambush or assault. The logical part of his brain knew that the woman sleeping in his study meant him no harm, but the feral, suspicious part of his mind couldn’t fall quiet, and Fenris spent most of the night wide awake.

He refused to show his tiredness to Hawke the next morning, however. When he emerged from his bedroom the to find her dressed and reading a book at the table, he straightened his posture and hoped he had none of the tell-tale dark circles that often accompanied a night of lost sleep.

“Hawke,” he greeted her with a nod. “I would offer you some coffee, but the kitchen is remarkably bare.”

She smiled up at him as he approached. “I noticed that,” she said. “I wanted to make you some coffee, but there’s not even a single bean in the pantry.” She tilted her head. “You don’t cook at all?”

“I can,” he said. “I haven’t done so here, however. I have barely touched the kitchen in this house, truth be told. I toast bread sometimes in the fireplace in my sleeping quarters.” He tugged idly at his gauntlets. “Are we ready to go out?”

He met her eyes, then raised one eyebrow at the soft expression on her face. “What is it?” he asked.

She dropped her eyes to the table and smiled, then shook her head. “Nothing,” she said, but her smile broadened until she laughed. “You’re such a bachelor.”

He smirked. “You are not wrong. I am, in fact, a bachelor.” He gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

“Yes,” she said. She lifted her staff from the floor beside the table and racked it on her back as they left the house. “Thank you for having me, Fenris,” she said softly. “It was refreshing, honestly. It’s so quiet and peaceful at your house. And that chaise is far more comfortable than my pallet at Gamlen’s.”

Fenris nodded as they strolled through Hightown. An idea was brewing at the back of his mind, and he chewed his tongue as he considered the wisdom of it. He probably shouldn’t share it; through no fault of Hawke’s, her mere presence in his house had given him one of the most uneasy nights he’d had since his arrival in Kirkwall. Thus, the idea at the tip of his tongue was a foolish one, and one he should most certainly keep to himself.

He opened his mouth. “You are welcome to say as long as you need,” he said, then bit the inside of his cheek.

She looked at him in surprise. “Really? You’re certain it’s not an imposition?”

He shoved aside his own misgivings and shook his head. “Not at all.”

She smiled. “Maker’s breath, that’s… so kind of you. Thank you, Fenris. I’ll find some way to pay you back, I promise.”

He waved her off. “It’s all right, Hawke, there is no need.”

She tilted her head. “Please, Fenris, call me Eris. It’s…” She sighed softly. “Everyone here calls me Hawke. It would be nice if my friends called me by my actual name. You know, in case I forget I have one.” She smirked.

Friends. Something jumped in his chest at the word, and he mentally scolded himself for being so juvenile. It was certainly fitting for her to consider him a friend. They had known each other for over a year now, after all.

He nodded slowly. “All right,” he said. Then he hesitated. Her name hovered there on his tongue like the first drop of a fresh-pressed glass of cider, and Fenris took a deep breath.

“Eris,” he said, and the smile that lit her face was as dazzling as the sun.

Later that evening, after a long and wearying trip to the Bone Pit, Eris returned to his house with him, and Fenris was bemused when she segued straight into tidying the study. She seemed determined to rid the mansion of the detritus that had littered its floors and corners since Fenris’s occupation, and he felt rather guilty simply watching while she worked.

And so it was that he began helping Eris to tidy the mansion he’d taken over in the wake of Danarius’s departure.

To Fenris’s great surprise, he grew accustomed to Eris’s presence quite quickly. He slept poorly again during the second night of her stay, but less poorly on the third. By the time Eris had been staying with him for a week, he was sleeping almost as well as he had before she’d ever come to stay. Two weeks after her first night in the mansion, he had stopped feeling twitchy about her nightly presence, and after three weeks, he found it odder when Eris wasn’t here than when she was.

With each day that Eris remained, the mansion became cleaner. Every evening when they returned from their daily adventures, she chipped away at her self-imposed task of clearing the detritus room by room, and when the clutter was cleared, she moved on to scrubbing the floors on her hands and knees. The sight of Eris washing the floors so diligently raised an odd writhing feeling in Fenris’s gut, and when he first saw her doing it, he had to retreat to the back room to calm his agitation.

It took him some time to figure out why he felt so uneasy. A large part of it was guilt; if he’d taken the time to clean this blasted house at any point in the past year, Eris wouldn’t be crawling around on the floors doing it herself. But there was a reason Fenris had always refused to clean the mansion: this was a magister’s mansion, and the idea of being on his knees in the property of a wretched Tevinter mage for any reason whatsoever made his skin crawl.

Eventually he emerged from his bedroom and watched Eris cautiously as she cleaned her way from the library into the main foyer. She didn’t look displeased or hard done by as she wrung the soapy water from the rag back into the basin. In fact, she looked quite… happy.

Fenris slowly approached her, and she smiled up at him as he stopped at the top of the stairs. “All right?” she said. “No dancing tonight?”

He smiled faintly at her. “Not tonight, no.” He watched her in silence for a moment longer, then slowly descended the stairs and dubiously eyed her basin of soapy water.

She wiped down one ornate pillar of the stairwell banister, then raised an eyebrow at him. “You sure you’re all right?”

He idly rubbed his earlobe for a moment, then dropped his arms to his sides. “Do you have another cloth, by any chance?”

“Yes, I have a whole pile here,” she said, and she gestured at the table. “Why…? Oh.” Her eyes widened as Fenris approached the table and reached for the cloths, and she rose swiftly to her feet. “Oh, Fenris, don’t,” she said hurriedly. “I’m – I wanted to do this for you! If I’m going to stay here, I thought I might as well…”

It was too late. Fenris had already selected a cloth, and before he could change his mind, he was dipping it into her bucket of water. “I will help,” he said. “It is… my house, after all.” He sat on the stairs and started carefully wiping down the next pillar of the banister.

“Well, if you’re certain,” she said. “Stop whenever you like, though. This is my new pet project. I can’t have you finishing it for me.”

He looked up at her. Her smile was broad and her tone was warm, and as Fenris wiped multiple years’ worth of grime from the banister post, he thought that maybe – just maybe – he could see the potential in this place.

**********************

Weeks continued to slide by as Eris and Fenris lived peacefully in the mansion together. They spent their evenings together, cleaning and talking until late into the night before retiring to their separate rooms, but Eris spent most of her days arranging for the restoration of the long-unoccupied Amell mansion and eventually moving her mother into the newly-renovated property. Fenris knew she was planning to move into Amell estate herself, but she hadn’t yet told him when she was going to officially make the move, and he didn’t want to ask, because he couldn’t deny the truth: he was enjoying Eris’s company.

Fenris had grown accustomed to her presence. During the past few months of her living here, her quiet footsteps had become familiar to him, and the subtle apple fragrance of her shampoo was a comfort. On the evenings when she returned to the mansion late after having spent extra time with her mother, the mansion felt oddly quiet without her, and the return of her smile and her calm and measured voice felt akin to rekindling the fire in his bedroom on a chilly night.

Then came the morning when Fenris awoke to an unusual and overwhelming scent in the air.

He was disoriented at first, and the smell initially alarmed him: it was decadent and rich, and the last time he’d smelled anything this rich was in the Imperium, while kneeling at Danarius’s side with his wrists in chains.

He dragged in a breath and forced himself properly awake. No, he thought fiercely. He wasn’t in the Imperium anymore, he was – this was Kirkwall, not Tevinter. And he wasn’t in Danarius’s cursed house, he was…

He was in his own house. With Eris. So that must mean…

She was cooking. Eris was cooking in his house.

He sat up in bed. It smelled like bacon and toast, and the full-bodied bitter scent of coffee, and… how was Eris cooking? He wasn’t aware that she’d fully cleared the kitchen. He wasn’t aware that the kitchen was even equipped with pots and pans and the like. It was as he’d told Eris before: he’d hardly done more than glance at the kitchen to ascertain that it was as filthy and rundown as the rest of the house.

He padded silently through the house and closer to the source of the savoury fragrance that permeated the air. By the time he reached the threshold of the kitchen, his mouth was watering, and he was feeling more bemused than ever.

Eris was bustling about near the hearthfire with a spatula in one hand and a spoon in the other. She seemed to be juggling three different items over the cookfire: she stirred a pot of water containing eggs with the spoon, and she pushed some rashers of bacon around a pan with the spatula, and four small loaves of elvhen bread were speared on the toasting fork and balanced carefully away from the direct heat.

She flitted over to an odd metal contraption on the table and adjusted the lid, then looked up and met his eye. “Fenris! Good morning!” she chirped. She waved for him to come in and sit at the freshly scrubbed kitchen table.

He slowly made his way into the kitchen. “You… this is… you’ve been busy this morning,” he remarked.

“Yes,” she said. She smiled at him as she lifted one part of the metal contraption, then poured its contents into two small bowls, and Fenris inhaled slowly: it was coffee, dark and thick-looking coffee that smelled both bitter and sweet.

She picked up a small ceramic bowl from a shallow pan of water, then spooned up a dollop of the contents and dropped it into each cup of coffee, and Fenris’s eyes widened. It seemed to be cream of some kind, a fluffy and cloudlike cream that dissolved the instant it touched the surface of the hot beverage.

She slid one bowl across the table to him. “It’s a special recipe of Isabela’s,” she told him, and she lifted the other bowl. “Cheers,” she said happily. “Or… what’s that Tevene word again?”

Fenris carefully lifted his bowl. “Benefaris,” he said, and he took a sip.

The creamy coffee washed over his tongue, bitter and rich and full, and a rush of saliva filled his mouth at the intensity of the flavour. He savoured the coffee on his tongue for a moment before swallowing, then raised an eyebrow at her. “What… what prompted all of this?” he said. He waved vaguely around the kitchen.

“My mother gave me the idea,” she said. She returned to the hearthfire and removed the pot of eggs from the pan, and with a soft whispered word of magic, she drew some energy from the fire and converted it to cold to chill the pot of eggs. She placed the pot on the table, then flipped the bacon while she continued to speak. “When I was having supper with her last night, she mentioned how she used to make full Fereldan breakfasts for my father on special occasions, especially when they were first married, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. We didn’t have the full thing very often when I was a child because they’re so filling, you see, but…” She turned and beamed at him. “I wanted to make you one.”

He stared at her. “Me? Why?”

“To thank you, of course!” she said. She removed the toasting fork from the heat and carefully placed the elvhen buns onto a plate. “I wanted to thank you by cleaning the house, but you ruined that by helping me.” She gave him a cheeky little smile. “So when Mother mentioned doing this for my father, I just…” Her cheeks went slightly pink. “Not that you’re… well, it’s just to thank you. And, well, I thought you could have a meal that you’d enjoy.”

Fenris didn’t miss the parallel she had drawn. To be making him the meal that her mother used to make for her father… A silly little jolt of pleasure trickled through his chest at the thought.

He forced himself to ignore it. She likely hadn’t meant it that way, if her apparent embarrassment was anything to go by. “What do you mean, a meal I would enjoy?”

Her gaze grew slightly cautious as she slid the bacon from the pan onto the toast-laden plates. “Well, I couldn’t help but notice that you eat rather quickly,” she said carefully.

He frowned slightly. “Yes.”

She bit her lip, then fell silent for a moment as she placed the eggs onto makeshift little cups to hold them up. She carefully cracked the top off of one egg each per plate, then sliced a tomato onto each plate and slid one plate across the table toward him.

She picked up two small bowls of salt and pepper – both of which Fenris hadn’t realized were in the house – then set them beside his bowl of coffee. “I… don’t want to assume, but I can guess why you’re such a fast eater without you telling me,” she said gently. “I just figured… you deserve a nice lazy breakfast without… worrying about how quickly you have to finish it.” She sprinkled a little salt and pepper on her first egg, then lifted a thickly-buttered elvhen bun. “There’s more where that came from, too, if you’re still hungry after.” She took a bite of toast.

“No,” Fenris said. “I… I’m sure I won’t be.” He stared at the soft-boiled eggs and perfectly crisped bacon and golden toast on his plate, all garnished with the bright red splash of tomato. It was more food than he’d ever eaten in a single sitting. It was far more food than he would receive in a whole day during some of his worst days in Tevinter.

He picked up the tiny spoon that Eris had set beside his plate, then stared at his meal for a moment more. Then Eris put down her bread and pointed at his egg. “That’s for the soft-boiled egg,” she said. “Have you–?”

He swallowed the lump that was swelling in his throat. “I’ve had a soft-boiled egg before, Eris,” he drawled. It may only have been once before, when Danarius had condescendingly foisted his leftovers on him, but still.

“Of course,” she said hurriedly. Her cheeks started to flush as she picked up her fork and began haphazardly cutting into her bacon. “Stupid question. I’m sorry.”

Fenris softened. “Don’t be,” he said. “This is… exceedingly kind of you.” He carefully dipped the spoon into the egg and watched as the yolk promptly overflowed onto his plate, then picked up a piece of bread to wipe it up.

She swallowed her bite of bacon and smirked at him. “Me, exceedingly kind? You let me move into your mansion for months without complaint. This is nothing compared to how kind you’ve been. I should make you a meal like this every week from now on.”

Fenris licked a bit of yolk from his thumb. “I don’t know if my stomach can handle this much decadent food every week.” He glanced at her, then tilted his head. “I am joking, Eris.”

She relaxed and grinned. “Oh. Oh good. So… shall we call it a date, then?”

He glanced at her. Her cheeks were turning pink again, but stormcloud-coloured eyes were bright with hope, and the swooping in his belly was more than just hunger.

He smiled and dropped his eyes to his food-filled plate, then looked her in the eye once more. “Yes. It… let us call this a date.”

She grinned, then bit her lip and ducked her head in that charming way of hers, and Fenris smiled as he cut into his bacon. The meat was a perfect compliment for the creamy eggs, and the bite of the coffee cut through the fat. Fenris took another bite and enjoyed his breakfast just as much as he enjoyed Eris’s smile.

For the first time, he was sitting in the kitchen as somebody’s equal – as somebody’s friend.

For the first time, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the wafting scents of the breakfast they savoured, this mansion in Kirkwall felt like home.

#fenris #fenris fic #gift fic #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femHawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenris/f!hawke #pikapeppa writes

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pikapeppa · 5 years

Text

Cullavellan and Fenhawke pirate AU: Sparring

Chapter 12 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me is up on AO3! It’s another long one (everyone’s POV this week, yay!), so only the first section is here. Read the rest on AO3.

In which there is – you guessed it – sparring. Also a little NSFW. 😏

Divine beautiful soft luscious art by @schoute!!

- PIPER -

“... if we keep running downwind, we should be in view of Kirkwall before sunset,” Dorian was saying. “That will give you ample time to sneak into the city after dark and figure out where things stand. Rather perfect timing, if I do say so myself.” He complacently adjusted one of his many gold rings.

Piper shot him a knowing smirk. “You make it sound as though the favourable winds were your making.”

“My fair captain, you underestimate the power of my dulcet words,” Dorian said loftily. “Who’s to say I didn’t whisper to the Old Gods themselves to blow some wind into your ragged old sails?”

Piper scoffed and shoved him. “Ragged nothing. These sails are perfectly patched.”

“Yes, well.” Dorian shot the lovingly-patched sails a disdainful look. “The point still stands that we should be in Kirkwall by this evening.”

“Excellent,” Piper said. “We’ve made good time. Better than expected, actually.” She leaned her elbows on the railing in front of the helm and watched as the crew sparred on the deck under Fenris’s supervision. Usually the trip from Rialto to Kirkwall took about eight days, but if they arrived tonight as Dorian predicted, the trip will have taken only seven.

In the depths of her selfish heart, Piper was regretting how quickly they’d managed to return.

Dorian leaned back against the railing and folded his arms. “So. What is the plan?”

Piper shot him a funny look. “You know the plan. We sneak into Kirkwall, see what’s happening—”

“I don’t mean that,” Dorian said dismissively. “I mean with our handsome blond guest.” He raised his eyebrows. “Is the fine commander going to be joining our illustrious crew?”

She returned her gaze to the sparring crew, who included both Cullen and Rylen. That’s a good question, Piper thought. The shameful truth was that she didn’t know, because she and Cullen hadn’t spoken again about his joining the Lady Luck.

After that perfect kiss on the beach in Rialto, Piper and Cullen had spent another night in her usual room in the Hanged Man. But this time, very uncharacteristically for Piper, she’d kept on her clothes and hadn’t even tried to proposition him. She knew how Cullen’s mind worked, and she knew that he wouldn’t allow himself to sleep with her unless he decided to stay on the Lady Luck.

It was his sense of honour. Cullen was a serious man, and without even knowing his relationship history, Piper knew he hadn’t slept with that many people. Sex was something he took seriously, and he wouldn’t sleep with someone unless he was invested. Piper, on the other hand, was something of the opposite; it wasn’t that sex didn’t matter to her, but it had always been more about fun and pleasure than an expression of love.

With Cullen, however, she had a terrible suspicion that sex would be different. She didn’t just want to sleep with him because he was handsome. She didn’t just want to sleep with him because it would be fun. She wanted to sleep with him because… well, because he was Cullen, for Mythal’s sake. He was her Golden Boy, the finest man she knew, and… and she…

She stopped herself before she could take that vulnerable thought any further. Regardless, after that first perfect kiss on the beach, they’d lain face-to-face on the bed in the Hanged Man — Piper beneath the covers and Cullen on top — and they’d talked about all sorts of innocuous things: little stories about his childhood, little stories about Piper’s own adventures, and innocent chit-chat about the crew and speculation about how long it would take for Fenris to admit that he liked Rynne. They’d talked late into the night until they’d both fallen asleep, and when they woke the next morning, they’d greeted the new day with another kiss.

Piper hadn’t even really meant to kiss Cullen again. Well, she had, but she’d been going for a kiss on the cheek, the same as she had done when he was asleep in her cabin on the Lady Luck. But just as she was about to place a gentle kiss on his stubbled cheek, he snapped awake.

Piper froze with her face a whisper away from his. Cullen stared at her with wide eyes, and after a tense, breathless moment, he slipped his palm around the back of her neck and pulled her close.

He kissed her softly — so infinitely softly, just a tender press of the lips — and Piper happily accepted his kiss, drifting dreamily in the softness of his lips and the ecstatic pounding of her heart until he leaned away from her with a tiny smile.

And then they’d gotten out of bed and returned to the Lady Luck, and they’d set their course for Cullen’s return to Kirkwall, and neither Cullen nor Piper had brought up the issue of his remaining on the Lady Luck.

That didn’t stop them from continuing the new routine of sleeping face-to-face on her bed, with Piper hidden beneath the blankets and Cullen lying chastely on top. The first night back on the Lady Luck, Cullen had gallantly tried to sleep on her couch, but Piper had teased and cajoled him into sharing her bed. And the next morning, and every morning thereafter, they’d started each morning with a sweet, tender kiss.

But every morning kiss they shared was one day closer to Kirkwall. And now, with Kirkwall practically in sight, it seemed that she and Cullen had shared their last morning kiss.

You don’t know that, she reminded herself. It was still possible that Cullen would join her crew. That was the whole point of not talking about it, after all; as long as they didn’t talk about it, there was still a chance that he would stay, and Piper would shamelessly cling to that chance until Cullen told her in no uncertain terms that he was going to remain in Kirkwall.

“Hello? Captain? Did your wonderful mad brain jump ship?” Dorian drawled.

She shook her head slightly, then smiled casually at Dorian. “I, um, don’t know what Cullen’s plans are. He’ll let me know when we’re back in Kirkwall.”

Dorian raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

She shrugged confidently — far more confidently than she felt. “He hasn’t decided yet if he’s staying with us or not.”

Dorian’s eyebrows rose even higher. “Why in Andraste’s sacred bosom would he not stay with us?”

Piper widened her eyes. “I know, right? The Lady Luck is the best ship. Who in their right mind would turn down the chance—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Dorian interrupted. “He’s in love with you. Of course he should stay on your blasted ship.”

Her stomach flip-flopped at Dorian’s words, but she laughed him off. “Ah, we’ll see what happens, won’t we?” She pushed away from the railing and sauntered back to her place behind the helm.

Dorian turned to stare at her with his arms folded. “Do my ears deceive me? Is it possible that Mad Piper is being a coward?”

She bit back a spike of annoyance. Dorian was just trying to be a good friend. “Probably,” she said.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Wha–? You’re probably being a coward?”

“No,” Piper said. “Your ears are probably deceiving you. When was the last time you cleaned them? You are looking a little less than tidy, you know.” She gave his fastidiously clean outfit a judgmental once-over.

Dorian tilted his head chidingly. “Ha ha. Laugh all you like, Captain, but you know I’m right.” He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “You should press him about it. Tell him what you want. You have to fight for what's in your heart.”

I already have, she thought sadly. That was what made this so hard. Piper had already told Cullen that she wanted him to join her on the ship. It was up to him to decide if it was what he wanted, too… and that was the most painful thought to endure. What if he said no? What if he ultimately decided to remain in Kirkwall?

Her chest felt tight at the very thought. She mustered a smile and rolled her eyes at Dorian. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, and she waved her hand dismissively. “Stop hassling the Captain and get back to work, you gossipy git.”

He snorted, then unfolded his arms and began to saunter away. “And the descent into despotism begins. Don’t make me gather the officers for an intervention,” he called over his shoulder.

“Hah!” Piper retorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

Dorian waved lazily to her as he wandered away. When he was out of earshot, Piper heaved a heavy sigh and rested her arms wearily in the spokes of the steering wheel.

A little while later, Varric joined her at the helm. “Cap,” he said affably. “Ready to change over?”

“Sure am,” she said. She disentangled her arms from the spokes and gave the wheel a loving pat, then stepped away from the helm.

Varric pulled over the sturdy box he stood on while manning the helm. He glanced at Piper as he stepped onto the box. “You all right, Captain?”

“Yep,” she said brightly. She tried to avoid his eye without being obvious about it; Varric was a little too good at sussing out people’s feelings just by looking at them.

“You know the drill,” she said. “Holler for me if the ship starts sinking, that sort of thing.”

He chuckled. “No problem.”

Piper traipsed down the short flight of stairs to the deck and wandered over to join the sparring group. They were standing in a loose circle around Cullen and Rylen, who were were facing off now, and the crew were playfully jeering at their structured navy style.

Piper sidled up to Fenris, who was watching Cullen and Rylen with folded arms. She shamelessly watched Cullen thrusting and parrying for a moment before speaking to Fenris. “Where’s Rynne?” she asked. For the past week, Rynne had been splitting her days between medical training with Anders and combat training with Fenris. She’d started coming to the group sparring sessions for the past couple of afternoons, but she wasn’t here today.

“With Anders, I assume,” Fenris said flatly.

Piper hummed an acknowledgement and glanced at Fenris’s wounded right shoulder. He no longer wore a bandage, and the shallow slice across his shoulder was mostly healed, but the stitches were still in place.

“How’s the arm?” she asked.

He shrugged. His eyes remained on Cullen and Rylen as their blunted practice swords clashed together. “It is fine.”

Piper nodded. “Stitches are still there, though.”

He shot her a brief irritated glance. “And? What of it?”

She shrugged, unbothered by his terse manner. Fenris was notorious for picking out his own stitches rather than allowing Anders to remove them, purely in order to avoid contact with Anders. Piper was certain that the only reason Fenris still had his stitches was that he was waiting for Rynne to remove them, but she decided against asking him about it, not wanting to irritate him further.

He’d been particularly quiet and broody this week whenever he wasn’t with Rynne. When he was with Rynne, however — which was quite a lot of the time — he seemed to fluctuate between being uncharacteristically soft and particularly brusque. Personally, Piper wasn’t sure how Rynne could tolerate the whiplash of Fenris’s obnoxious mood swings, especially since he was obviously only being moody because he liked her.

But it wasn’t Piper’s business to say. She didn’t really want anyone poking at her and Cullen’s business either, after all.

“Just wanting to make sure you’re in tip-top shape in case we need to fight,” she said.

Fenris nodded silently. A moment later, Piper leaned in close to him again. “Listen, Fenris, I know you’re worried about going back to the city, with the WANTED posters and all. But I promise—”

“Stop,” he said quietly. “I stand with you, Piper.” He pursed his lips. “This is a mistake, but I won’t abandon you.”

She smiled. Coming from Fenris, that might as well have been his declaration that Piper was his best friend in all of Thedas.

She gently punched his arm. “Aw, Fen, no need to get sappy on me. I already know I’m your second-favourite person on the ship.” All right, fine, maybe she wasn’t above poking him a little bit about his feelings for Rynne.

He shot her an annoyed look, and she smirked at him before returning her attention to Cullen and Rylen. A minute later, their match ended with the blade of Cullen’s practice sword along Rylen’s throat.

The crew jeered and stamped their feet, and Rylen bowed to Cullen with a smile. “Well fought as always, Commander.”

Cullen smiled and nodded to his lieutenant. Fenris unfolded his arms and frowned at the crew. “Who is next?” he barked.

“Me,” Piper said loudly. She took a step into the circle. “I challenge the Commander to a match.”

The crew broke into a chorus of ooohing and stomping their feet, and Piper grinned at them before turning to Cullen with her hands on her hips. “How about it, Golden Boy?”

Cullen bowed gallantly. “I would be honoured, Captain Lavellan.”

The crew jeered more loudly at his manners, and Piper laughed. “There’s no place for such manners on the Lady Luck, Cullen,” she purred. She sashayed over to the rack of blunted practice weapons and selected a sword that nearly matched Cullen’s sword in length and weight.

“My apologies, Captain,” he said. “I will try to be less mannerly in the future.”

He was smiling, and Piper grinned at him. Now that was a cheeky remark, and one she’d be happy to exploit in a more personal setting, if ever he gave her the chance.

He was standing in a typical navy man’s ready-stance, with his practice sword partly raised and his legs slightly bent. Piper sauntered over to face him and slowly ran her finger along the flat of his blade.

“Such a rude boy,” she said silkily. “I’ll have to think up a special punishment for you.”

His eyes widened slightly, and his cheeks started to redden. The crew laughed raucously, and Piper grinned more widely still. Cullen wanted to make cheeky remarks to her? Well, she was more than happy to be just as cheeky in return.

She stepped away to face him and playfully mimicked his posture, eliciting another ripple of laughter from the assembled crew. Cullen narrowed his eyes and smirked, but he didn’t move.

They watched each other in silence for a moment. Piper kept her attention equally on his face and his feet and the tip of his sword, but he didn’t move.

So Piper took a small step to the left.

Cullen moved smoothly to his left as well, and Piper grinned as they began to circle each other slowly. Sure, he could follow her steps, but he wasn’t going to make the first move. He was too well-trained to move first unless it was necessary.

She cockily twirled her sword just to prove she could, and a chiding smile lit his face. Then Piper rushed at him.

Clang. Their blunted blades clashed with a dull ring of steel, and Piper was pushing forward with a flurry of quick strikes that Cullen swiftly parried. Then Cullen dodged slightly to the left and brought his sword in close to strike at her side.

She just barely dodged his strike and parried it with her sword, and an ooh of interest went up from the crew. Piper skipped out of Cullen’s range and faced him, her eyes darting between his blade and his face, and as she took a second to catch her breath, she admitted the truth: he was the better swordsman.

It was obvious, and it was something she’d known before stepping into this match with him. Cullen had over fifteen years of rigorous navy training, and while Piper had been scrapping since she was nine and fighting with all sorts of blades since the day she set foot on the Lady Luck, her form was nowhere near as perfect as Cullen’s.

But she had two tools that Cullen wouldn’t think to use: improvisation and dirty tricks.

He was in his ready-stance once more, and there was a small, smug smile on his lips. Piper laughed. “Think you’ve won already, have you?” she said.

He shook his head but didn’t break his stance. “I never discount an enemy until they’re flat on the ground,” he replied.

“Is that so?” She twirled her sword once more and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “If you wanted me flat on the ground, Commander, all you had to do was ask.”

The crew hooted in appreciation, and Cullen’s cheeks turned pink once more. Piper took advantage of his embarrassment to rush him again, this time dodging to his left to try and throw him off. He parried her just as easily as the first time, but Piper swiftly dropped to her knees and rolled beneath his arm, then popped to her feet behind him and pinched his bum.

He grunted in surprise, and Piper ducked under his arm and dodged back around to face him. His face was flaming red now, and his eyes were wide. “Did you just… grab my bottom?” he asked in disbelief.

“I did,” she said complacently. “Do you want to return the favour?” She turned to the side slightly and arched her back.

His eyes dropped to her butt for an instant before flicking back up to her face, and she grinned. But still he didn’t move, and his sword hand was steady, and Creators, Piper wanted to throw him off balance.

She sashayed closer to him, then reached out with her practice sword and slowly stroked her blade along the length of his with a faint hiss of metal. “Such a strong and stoic commander,” she teased. “Come on, Cullen, play with me.”

He didn’t move. “I didn’t realize this was a game,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “Of course it is,” she said. “And I’m winning.” She lunged at him again.

He parried her instantly and pushed forward at the same time. Piper stumbled back, and suddenly his sword was coming down from above to aim at her head.

Piper brought her sword up just in time. His blade slammed against hers with a ring of blunted steel, and Piper braced her palm on the flat of her blade to hold him back.

Fenedhis, he was fucking strong. Her arms were trembling with the effort of holding him back. Her heart was pounding with exertion and undeniable excitement, and she couldn’t help but stare at his parted lips.

Cullen took another aggressive step toward her, forcing her to lean back to alleviate the pressure of his blade on hers. Focus, Piper, she scolded herself. It was all well and good to find his strength incredibly sexy, but it was another thing to be so riled up that she actually lost a sparring match.

She twisted quickly to the side, escaping the incessant press of his blade, and he stumbled to the side, then smoothly swung his sword back up to defend himself as she lunged at him once more. His eyes widened as she rushed him, and suddenly they were face to face, and – shit, her thigh was brushing between his legs, and only their crossed blades were keeping their bodies apart.

Piper gasped for breath. His gorgeous brown eyes were wide, and his chest was heaving as well, and this was the closest they had stood to each other since that beautiful night on the beach. His cheeks were turning pink, and a giddy rush rolled through her pounding blood at the thought of him remembering the moment too.

Focus, Piper, focus, she thought feverishly. Don’t think about kissing him. Don’t think about your knee between his fucking legs. Focus on this moment. She quickly slid her foot just behind his own, then shoved at his chest with all her strength.

He stumbled back over her foot, but Piper had used this trick on him a few months ago in Kirkwall, and Cullen was too well-trained to be fooled a second time. He brought up his sword while simultaneously finding his balance, and Piper grinned at him.

“Ooh, you’re a quick study, Commander,” she panted.

“I would hope so,” he replied. “Otherwise, I–”

Piper lunged at him again, her sword lashing in a frenzy to keep him occupied as she pushed her way into his space. His eyes widened as he backed away, and a rush of excitement made her light-headed for a moment: she was about to win, she could see it, she could feel it in the desperation of his parries—

She brought the edge of her blade up to his throat, and he froze.

But Piper froze as well. There was a fine and unmistakable line of pressure at the base of her ribs.

Cullen was holding a dagger to her ribs — Piper’s own dagger, which he had taken off of her body at some point during the fight.

The crew was silent for a moment before erupting in a wave of appreciative murmurs and applause, and Piper gaped at Cullen in equal parts disbelief and delight. Cullen had used a dirty trick. He’d stolen her weapon when she wasn’t looking, probably when they were clinched face-to-face. He’d… fuck, he’d used her own tactics against her.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You were, er, distracted,” he said. A bashful smile lit his face.

She stared at him, heart pounding with exertion and pride and… fine, yes, she was fucking turned on. Standing this close to him and seeing the sheen of sweat on his chest, and knowing he’d broken the navy rules of engagement to get them both in this position…

She dropped her sword and gripped his shirt in both hands. “Pirate,” she whispered accusingly.

His face turned bright red. He’d dropped his sword as well, and his free hand was curved around her waist, and it was taking every ounce of willpower for her to not kiss him right here and now in front of the entire crew.

Stay with me. The pleading wish rushed through her giddy mind. Cullen looked like a pirate, and he could fight like a pirate when he was pressed, and the innocent nights they’d been spending curled up face-to-face on her bed were better than the finest sex she’d ever had, and… Fen’Harel save her, but she really didn’t want to lose him.

But she couldn’t tell him so. She couldn’t ask again for him to stay. As long as he didn’t say anything, he hadn’t yet said no.

With a huge effort of will, she forced herself to release him and to step away. She turned to Fenris with a grin. “So? What’s your verdict, Fen?”

His arms were folded, and his eyebrows were lifted appreciatively. “That is what I would call a draw,” he said.

The crew exclaimed in agreement, and Piper turned to Cullen. He was smiling at her, but his eyebrows were tilted in that sad way that she was really starting to dread.

She bowed to him with a flourish to escape his sorrowful gaze. “Commander,” she said in a mock-professional manner. “We should do this again sometime.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Y-yes, I… I would like that.”

She smiled at him, then turned to the crew. “Keep it up, boys and girls!” she called. “A royal to the crew member who beats Cullen using clean tactics only!”

There was a fresh round of applause and laughter, and Cullen shot her a chiding look. She winked at him playfully, then slipped away from her gathered crew and made her way toward the stern. Her mind was a roil of uncertainty and pride and wistfulness, and her blood was thrumming with nerves and an inconvenient degree of lust, and she desperately wished she could go for a nice bracing swim to clear her head.

Instead, she wandered back up to the helm and sat at the table. Varric briefly glanced at her. “Hey,” he said. “Back already?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m going to have a look over the maps.” She kicked her bare feet up on the table and pulled over one of Dorian’s maps.

She and Varric were quiet for a while. Then Varric spoke again. “Sure you don’t want to talk?”

Piper looked up. He was looking over his shoulder at her, and his expression was neutral but kind.

She looked down at the maps again. So much for pretending everything was fine. Damned Varric was too clever for his own good. Still, she wasn’t really in the mood to talk. “Thanks, Varric, but I’m all right,” she said.

“Okay,” he said affably. They fell quiet again, and Piper picked listlessly at the corner of the map for a minute.

“No matter what, you’re going to be fine, you know,” Varric said suddenly.

Piper glanced at him. His tone was matter-of-fact, but his expression was sympathetic.

She smiled and shrugged. She knew what he meant, but she decided to deflect. “Of course I will. We all will. I’ll be leading the charge, and you know how lucky I am.”

He chuckled. “I sure do.” He turned around to face the bow once more.

Piper smiled faintly at his back, then pulled over the captain’s log to start a new entry. She was a firm believer in making her own luck, and it really felt like she’d done everything in her power to draw Cullen into her world.

She could only hope that it was enough.

Read the rest on AO3, picking up from Cullen’s POV!

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pikapeppa · 5 years

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Cullavellan & FenHawke pirate AU: Rowdy Rialto, part 3

Chapter 11 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take me is up on AO3!

Once again, it’s a long one: about 13k words, OOF. Only a section of it is posted here. Read the whole thing here.

This week’s EXQUISITE AND BEAUTIFULLY RICH ART by our wonderful artist and genius @schoute !!!

- PIPER -

“Calm down, alhasha. You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Papa, no!” she screamed. She struggled frantically against the huge human hands gripping her arms, wishing she was bigger she could claw their stupid fat fingers off of her arms. “Let him go! Let him go!”

Feylhen smiled at her. The noose tightened around his neck. “Close your eyes, Piper. Everything will be fine.”

Piper woke with a gasp. For a terrifying, disoriented moment, she wasn’t sure where she was; blankets and hair were clouding her eyes, and her fingers were clutching at her own neck, and Cullen –

Cullen. She froze for a second as her panicked eyes recognized his sleeping face. All at once, she remembered where she was.

The tension left her body in a sigh of relief. It was early morning, and she was in her usual guest room in Rialto. Cullen was fast asleep beside her, his arms folded under his head and his mouth slightly open as he snored.

A heart-squeezing rush of affection filled her chest. He was on top of the blankets and hadn’t even taken off his boots, and this didn’t surprise Piper at all; of course he wouldn’t actually get in to the bed with her, not even if she’d invited him – which, let’s face it, she probably had. No, getting into bed with her would be far too improper for his comfort. But she was surprised – and very pleased – that he was even on the bed at all.

She shifted a little closer to him beneath the sheets. That’s when she realized that she was completely naked.

She snorted, then clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Well, this just made things even more precious. She’d obviously propositioned him last night when she was plastered, and he’d obviously refused. Given this new development, she was frankly shocked – and delighted – that he wasn’t sitting in the corner across the room from her.

A burst of hope took flight in her belly as she studied his peaceful face. Of course Cullen had turned her down; she’d been so drunk she couldn’t remember taking off her clothes, and Cullen was nothing if not the perfect gentleman. But the fact that he was still in the room with her – much less on the bed, with Piper sleeping naked just a couple handspans away…

He wouldn’t do this with anyone. She knew that without a doubt. Before coming to Rialto, she’d known that Cullen saw her as a friend, but this was more than that. For someone as polite and decorous as Cullen, this was special.

Her heart was thrumming a happy beat in her chest, and she wiggled her toes excitedly. Then Cullen snorted and twitched.

His eyes popped open, and he turned his head to look at her. His cheeks instantly started turning pink, and Piper beamed at him.

“Good morning, Golden Boy,” she purred.

He cleared his throat nervously. “Piper. Good, er, good morning.”

She shuffled her bare arms out from the blankets and tucked her hands coyly beneath her cheek. “So it seems that I’m naked under here…” She shifted her legs under the covers and raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

Exactly as she’d expected, his face fell into an expression of horror, and his cheeks went absolutely flaming red. “I – no! I assure you, I had nothing to do with that, and – nothing happened, I promise–”

She burst out laughing. Fenedhis, he was so damned sweet, and… fuck, she wanted so badly to kiss him. But he looked so adorably flustered, and if she even tried to kiss him, his face would probably go up in flames.

She satisfied herself instead with shifting a bit closer to him and patting his lightly stubbled cheek. “I’m just teasing you,” she said cheerfully. “I can’t imagine how red your face must have been last night.” She gave him a wicked smile. “I have to wonder how you keep a straight face during your job sometimes.”

He scoffed quietly. Then, to Piper’s happy surprise, he rolled onto his side to face her.

He folded his arms and smiled. “You said that last night,” he said wryly.

She grinned at him. Lying face to face like this was very cozy, almost like a lovely morning-after chat.

I wish, she thought. Her belly did a wistful little flip. “Oh yes?” she said teasingly. “What else did I say last night?”

His precious cheeks pinkened once more, but to Piper’s surprise, his smile faded. “You, er…” He nervously licked his lips. “You asked me to join the Lady Luck after the… problem in Kirkwall is resolved.”

Her own smile melted away, and she slowly pushed her hair back from her face. “I remember that, actually,” she said softly. She also remembered what she’d blurted out right after – I like you, Cullen – and her belly twisted. Was he going to bring that up, too?

He nodded a silent acknowledgement. For a moment they lay there facing each other in the bed, and Piper could feel her pulse beating nervously in her throat. Cullen’s expression was utterly serious, and his cocoa-brown eyes were meltingly warm, and…

And she had no idea what he was thinking. Not a clue. He looked pensive and serious, and Piper couldn’t guess what was going on in his mind.

She laughed lightly and twisted an unruly lock of her hair in her fingers. “Any, er, thoughts?” she asked lamely.

“Many,” he said quietly. He smiled, but his brow remained creased. “I did promise you I would think about it, and I swear to you, I am.”

A tiny pang of disappointment pinched her gut. “But you need more time.”

He sighed. “Yes. It’s… a lot to think about.” He rubbed his chin idly for a moment. Then, slowly, he reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her forehead.

His touch was brief, but his finger was infinitely gentle on her face, and Piper stopped breathing. A burst of butterflies exploded in her belly, filling her with excitement and hope and… and nerves. Fucking nerves.

Suddenly she felt nervous and almost shy, which made absolutely no sense – there was no reason to be shy about anything with Cullen. He was kind and patient and sweet, and he was the shy one, for fuck’s sake, not her. Cullen was the shy one, with his nervous stuttering and his blushing cheeks like the way he was blushing right now…

Fuck, he was perfect. And he needed time to think.

All at once, Piper needed a change of scene. It was too much – this room, this bed, her naked body that was begging for his hands and her pounding heart that was silently but shamelessly begging for him to stay…

“Let’s go for a walk,” she blurted.

He raised his eyebrows, but nodded nonetheless. “All right,” he said, and he started to push himself upright.

She swallowed hard and shifted over to the edge of the bed, then quickly pulled on her smalls and breeches from the night before. When her bottoms were on, she frowned. Her top wasn’t on the floor with the rest of her clothes.

She tutted and patted the mess of blankets. “Cullen, did you happen to see–”

At the same moment, Cullen spoke. “Piper, may I ask you something–”

They both stopped, and Piper smiled over her shoulder at him. Then her smile grew wider as she noticed where he was looking.

His eyes were on her naked back. Piper pulled her hair over her shoulder and lifted one shoulder enticingly. “See anything you like, Commander?”

He dropped his gaze to the floor. His cheeks were flushed yet again. “You said that last night, too,” he muttered.

There was a tiny shy smile on his face, and the remaining nervousness fled her belly. She laughed and shuffled her hand around in the blankets. “Well, at least you know drunk Piper and sober Piper are consistent,” she said cheerfully. When her fingers found her top, she pulled it triumphantly from the bed.

“What did you want to ask?” she asked as she pulled on her top.

“Er, nothing,” he said. “It was… er, it’s nothing.”

She fluffed her hair and frowned slightly. “Are you sure?” she said. His gaze was still on the ground, and he looked thoughtful once more.

He gave her a small smile. “Another time, perhaps,” he said. He walked over to the door and gallantly opened it for her. “May I treat you to breakfast?”

She scoffed as she approached the door. “What for?”

He raised his eyebrows. “To thank you for the, er, entertainment last night.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Entertainment! That’s one way of putting it.” They made their way toward the stairs, and she shot him a serious look. “Really though, did you have a good time?”

“I did, in fact,” he said. “Rialto is quite… overwhelming, at first. But I enjoyed seeing it with you.”

Another rush of fondness tugged at her heart. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m glad. But that was just the rowdy side of Rialto. It’s very different during the day, you’ll see.” She released his hand, then shot him a smile as she traipsed down the stairs. “And I’m going to treat you to breakfast, because you’re my guest. Are you in for another taste adventure?”

He nodded agreeably as he followed her to the main floor. “You have yet to lead me astray. I’ll trust your judgment.”

She smiled at him. His shirt and vest were rumpled, and his usually-impeccable hair was slightly out of place. He looked dishevelled but happy, and more like a pirate than ever. Creators, she really wanted him to join the Lady Luck.

She took a deep breath to calm another inconvenient leap of nerves, then pushed open the doors to the Hanged Man. She placed her hands on her hips and smiled up at Cullen. “All right, Golden Boy. Consider this your official introduction to Rialto.”

He smiled back and gave her a little half-bow. “Lead the way, Captain Lavellan.”

She chuckled and gently punched his shoulder. “Cheeky boy. Come on, let’s get you fed.” She looped her hand through his elbow, and together they strolled into the buttery sunshine to greet the day.

Read the rest on AO3, picking up at Rynne’s POV!

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pikapeppa · 5 years

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Cullavellan and Fenhawke pirate AU: Rowdy Rialto, Part 2

Chapter 10 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me is up on AO3! In which the cliffhanger from the previous chapter is resolved! 😂

Read the whole thing on AO3; it switches between everyone’s POV and is ~11k words long, so only the first section is here.

Beautiful art, as always, by my dreamgirl @schoute!!

- RYNNE -

Rynne pulled on her borrowed boots, then slipped carefully through the crowd toward the bar, excited to buy drinks for the first time at a pirate tavern. She knew Fenris had said to stay close, but she could hardly get into any trouble just by standing at the bar, especially not when he and Piper and Cullen were only about twenty paces away.

“Hello there. Haven’t seen you in these parts before,” a husky voice purred.

Rynne turned to find herself facing the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. Her black hair was lush and wavy, and her body was lush and wavy too, and her heavy gold jewelry only served to highlight the warmth of her chestnut skin.

Rynne’s eyes widened. “You must be Queen Isabela! Piper told me all about you. It’s lovely to meet you. And, well, to look at you, if I’m being honest.” She curtsied, then gave Isabela a salacious once-over.

Isabela let out a throaty laugh. “Aren’t you a sweet thing?” she said. She took a step closer to Rynne. “Right you are, though. I’m Isabela. You’re a new member of Piper’s crew, hmm?”

“That’s right,” Rynne said proudly. “I’m the assistant surgeon. I was quite rubbish at everything else, I can tell you.”

Isabela laughed again, then propped a hand on her curvy hip. “We’ll see each other around, then. Piper and I often meet on the sea. Get in the odd scrap here or there, you know how it is.”

“You get into scraps with Piper?” Rynne said in surprise. “She said you two were friends.”

“We are,” Isabela said easily. “It’s all a friendly competition, you know? Honour among thieves is the best kind of honour.” She took a step back. “Well, I’ve got to go. Holler if you need anything, sweet thing. I like to keep the newcomers coming back for more.” She winked.

“Good,” Rynne said smoothly. “Because I can be very greedy.”

Isabela grinned, then turned and sashayed away. Rynne chuckled to herself, then continued on her path toward the bar.

She leaned over the bar and smiled at the bartender. “Pardon me!”

The bartender waved distractedly at her while simultaneously pouring three drinks with his free hand. “Be with you in a moment, sweetheart,” he called back.

She nodded, then settled back to wait. A minute later, a large and hairy hand appeared beside her on the bar.

She looked up at the equally large and hairy owner of the hand and smiled. “Hello there. Having a good evening?”

He smiled smarmily at her. “Better now that I’m looking at you, darling.”

A ripple of apprehension ran down her spine. She recognized that look on his face. She was more accustomed to seeing it on the faces of the richest and most smug noblemen in Kirkwall, but it translated the same way on the face of this beefy gentleman.

And on his two slightly-less-beefy friends who were looming just behind him.

She kept her smile in place and tilted her head. “That’s kind of you to say.” She looked pointedly at the bartender, but he was fully engaged in a conversation with one of the barmaids who was holding a tray of broken glass.

Then she jumped slightly as the beefy fellow spoke quietly into her ear. “You smell real nice, love. That some perfume you’re wearing?”

She swallowed hard to quell her disgust. “It is, in fact,” she said brightly. “I borrowed it from my friend, Mad Piper. Do you know of her?”

The beefy man leaned back and scowled, and one of his friends snorted. “The rabbit captain,” he said in an Orlesian accent.

“Careful,” the other friend said. “Mad Piper is… well, mad. And she’s friends with the Queen. We can’t piss ‘em off.”

Rynne smiled hopefully at the cautious man. “A wise one, you are,” she said. She blinked innocently at the beefy man, who was looming over her now with a rather unflattering glower. “Why don’t I just skip on over to her and find out where Mad Piper bought the perfume I’m wearing? Then you can buy a bottle for yourself. It might do you some good.”

The Orlesian man whistled, and the cautious one grimaced. The beefy man narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to her. “What did you say to me?”

Something stupid, Rynne thought sadly. It wasn’t much good adopting Piper’s bravado if she didn’t have the combat skills to back it up.

She smiled innocently at the beefy man. “I was simply agreeing with you. It’s a lovely perfume. I’ll find out where she got it and get back to you, shall I?” She swiftly darted under his arm and started to sneak through the crowd back to Piper’s table.

He grabbed her arm. “You’re not going anywhere, whore.”

Fuck, Rynne thought. Feigning innocence wasn’t working as she’d hoped it would. Looked like she would have to use Fenris’s approach.

She looked up at the beefy man. “Let me go. Now.”

He roughly pulled her closer. “And if I don’t?”

She narrowed her eyes and ignored her racing heart. “I’ll scream for Isabela. And she’ll kick you out of here and straight back to the ass-end of whatever backwater town you came from.”

The beefy man’s lip curled in anger, revealing a set of terrible broken teeth. Behind her, the Orlesian man laughed nastily. “Merde. She’s a feisty one, she is.”

The beefy man roughly tugged her arm, pulling her off balance so she stumbled into his malodorous body. “Yeah, she is. I ought to teach her a lesson.”

Fuck fuck fuck, Rynne thought. She carefully took a deep breath to control her panic. Her dagger was heavy at her back and waiting to be grabbed, but the Orlesian man was just behind her, and she didn’t think she could unsheathe the blade before he stopped her…

So she did the only thing she could think of. She jumped up and slammed the crown of her head into her assailant’s nose.

An instantaneous wave of pain rippled across the top of her skull. More importantly, her captor yelped in surprise and agony and released her arm. Heedless of the pain in her now-throbbing skull, Rynne bolted down the first corridor she saw, completely in the opposite direction of Piper’s table.

Stupid stupid stupid, she thought. But it was too late now to turn around; she could hear shouting behind her, that big stupid beefy man and his nasty Orlesian friend, and if she tried to go back to Piper’s table now, they’d certainly nab her before she made it.

She hurried through the halls looking for someplace to hide. She seemed to have found herself in the inn section of the lower level; it was quieter here, which helped her to hear if anyone was pursuing her, but the lack of people meant she couldn’t get lost in a crowd, which was unfortunate.

Even more unfortunate when she stumbled straight into the Orlesian man.

“Shit,” she blurted. Then she gasped as he shoved her back against the wall.

She reached behind her back, only to find her sheath empty. Then the Orlesian man held up her dagger. “Looking for this?” he said silkily.

Rynne wilted. “Son of a nug-fucking bitch,” she muttered.

The Orlesian man’s eyebrows rose, and he laughed and took a step closer to her. “Not the sweet little flower you seem, are you?” he said. He placed one hand on her hip and carefully laid the tip of her dagger against the base of her ribs, and a rash of goosebumps rippled over her skin — at the cold touch of metal on her midriff, certainly, but more from the horrible feel of his hand on her bare skin.

She bit the inside of her cheek. This was what Fenris had been talking about — unwanted hands on her body. She’d rather have a sword to her neck then this disgusting man’s hand on her skin.

He stroked her hip with his thumb, and she tried hard to hide her revulsion and gave him a frank look. “Listen. You seem like a reasonable sort of man. It rather makes me wonder why you’re following that other fellow around.”

He frowned. “Excuse me?”

She shrugged. “He just seems a candle short of a chandelier, if you catch my meaning. I’m a little bit surprised that you aren’t the one running the show. You’re certainly better-looking than he is.” She slid a suggestive look from his dirty Orlesian half-mask down to his faded silk trousers.

“You’re trying to trick me,” he accused. Despite his words, his frown lessened slightly, and so did the tip of his dagger in her side.

His hand was still on her hip, though. She blinked beguilingly. “I’m not. You truly are the better-looking one.” It wasn’t a lie, after all. A golem would be more handsome than that horrible beefy thug.

The Orlesian lifted his chin and gazed at her thoughtfully. Then she kneed him directly in the balls.

He grunted and doubled over, and Rynne shoved him away. But before she could dart around him, his hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist. “Putain de salope,” he hissed.

Rynne frantically twisted her arm, but his grip was painfully tight. “Let me go!” she shouted, to no avail; he pulled her toward him, and toward the dagger that was still clenched in his other hand.

She screamed and struggled more fitfully. Then the Orlesian man suddenly released her.

She stumbled back, then clapped her hands over her mouth in shock. Blood was spilling from a deep cut across the front of his windpipe — the kind of cut that Fenris said could kill a man slowly and painfully as he choked on his own blood.

“M-maker’s fucking balls,” she gasped.

“Hawke,” Fenris snapped.

She jumped in shock, then clutched her chest in relief as he stepped out of the shadows. “Fenris!” she squeaked. “Fuck, shit, fuck fuck, I didn’t mean to — they — I went the wrong way—”

He sheathed his own dagger, then stepped around the dying Orlesian and held out his hand. “Come,” he snapped. “Now.”

She gratefully grabbed his hand, then followed him as he ran silently through the halls. At one point he stopped short and held a finger to his lips, and Rynne bit her own lip; it was the beefy man’s voice.

“Louis better have fucking found them,” he said. His speech sounded oddly muffled. “That whore thinks her knife-eared pet can stop me? She’ll see what happens to bitches and elves who talk back to me.”

Hawke looked at Fenris in surprise. “Did you hit him?”

“Yes,” he gritted. “Not mortally, unfortunately. I did not wish to be thrown out of the Hanged Man before I found you.” He jerked his chin at the end of the hall. “Go,” he whispered. “In the back corner. Hide yourself in the shadows.”

She followed his directions, wishing that she wasn’t wearing such a brightly coloured skirt; it would be hard to hide, even in the shadows. She turned to face Fenris as he approached her. “What do we—”

He crowded her back into the corner and shielded her with his body. “Be quiet,” he muttered.

Rynne obeyed. She couldn’t talk even if she wanted to, because all of a sudden she couldn’t catch a breath. Fenris was close to her, so close that she could feel the heat of his skin where his faded tunic laid his chest bare, and the sheer nearness of his body was enough to stop her lungs from working.

Her heart was still pounding, but the beat felt different now: a flutter in her chest rather than a panicked rhythm. Fenris was closer to her than that nasty Orlesian man had been, but this was completely different. This was — Maker’s balls, this was Fenris, and he was so close to her, and if he was to put his hand on her hip, she definitely wouldn’t tell him to move it away.

He was utterly still as he peered sideways over his shoulder, and Rynne couldn’t stop staring at his neck. There was a light sheen of perspiration on his skin, and she was seized with a sudden urge – a very improper urge – to run her tongue along the twisting white lines on his throat and taste the salt of his skin.

She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. If he didn’t step away from her soon, she was going to make a complete fucking fool of herself.

A moment later, the clumsy footsteps of two large men thundered closer. The beefy one was still drunkenly slurring threats about her. “If I get my hands on that little whore, I’ll teach ‘er a lesson. Don’t you doubt it.”

Fenris let out a soft growl of anger, and Rynne swallowed hard. She should probably still be scared, but Fenris’s rough little growl was making her feel things that were distinctly not fear-related.

“Come on, mate. She’s not worth it.” The cautious friend seemed to be trying for another go at logic. “If the Queen finds out—”

The beefy man snorted. “Fuck the Queen. She’s just some uppity Rivaini whore.”

There was the sound of a fleshy thump, then the cautious man spoke again. “Shut your bloody trap. You’ll get us thrown out of the city.”

The beefy man growled at his friend, but finally their voices moved away. Rynne and Fenris stayed silent for a moment longer until the hall was quiet once more.

Fenris released his breath. “What did I tell you?” he snapped.

She opened her eyes to find him glaring at her. He looked angrier than she’d ever seen, and for some reason, it made her want to melt into a besotted puddle on the floor.

“Um,” she said, very intelligently.

Thankfully, Fenris didn’t seem to be expecting an answer. “I told you to stay close,” he scolded. “And I told you to use that dagger if anyone failed to unhand you when you asked. Why didn’t you stab them? Any of them?”

She swallowed hard. His chest was heaving with angry breaths, and it was extremely distracting. “I-I… I was going to, but I…”

“Never hesitate,” Fenris said forcefully. “I told you that before. An enemy will smell your hesitation, and he will not fail to take advantage of it.” Suddenly he looked down at his chest.

Rynne looked down as well, and a rush of embarrassment heated her cheeks. Her hand seemed to have decided of its own volition to take hold of the gaping collar of his tunic, and her thumb was touching his chest.

His chest. Her thumb. She was touching his chest with her thumb. He was breathing hard and his eyes were on her face and she was staring at his lips, and – and his chest –

She grinned at him, then burst into giddy laughter. Whether it was relief or attraction or just the ridiculousness of the entire situation, Rynne couldn’t decide, but suddenly she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

“What is so funny?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she gasped. “Absolutely nothing. I’m just an idiot.” Her fingers were still twisted in his tunic, and she boldly released the fabric to splay her hand on his exposed chest instead. “I think you should yell at me more when you’re training me. I feel like I’m really learning a lot right now.”

He grabbed her hand. “This is not a joke. Did you not see the look in their eyes? They had one thing in mind when they approached you. If I hadn’t spotted them attacking you—”

He broke off and clenched his jaw. Then Rynne realized that his hand was shaking.

Her giddiness abruptly faded into guilt. She took his hand in both of hers. “Fenris, I’m sorry. I meant to stab that huge nasty fellow, really I did, but I couldn’t have grabbed my dagger in time, and then that fucking Orlesian had it — really, that just seems unfair that he could take my dagger without me knowing. Is that allowed?”

“This is Rialto. Almost everything is allowed,” he retorted. He ran his free hand through his hair, then rubbed his mouth.

She laid one hand gently on his chest. “Hey, It’s all right. I’m fine. That one fellow got his comeuppance, and we’ll tell Isabela about the big burly one, and… and it’s no harm done, right?”

He peeled her hand away from his chest. “No harm done? This was an appallingly close call,” he snapped. “There could have been immense harm. You shouldn’t have…” He trailed off and scrubbed a hand through his hair, and Rynne tilted her head.

“Fenris, what’s the problem? All I did was go to the bar,” she said quietly. “It’s not my fault those men were such assholes.”

“I know that,” he growled.

“Then why are you so angry at me?” she asked.

He clenched his jaw again. “I am not — it is not your fault. It is just…” He breathed deeply through his nose, then shook his head. “This was too much of a risk. We should have remained on the ship.”

Rynne wilted in exasperation. “Fenris, everything has some element of risk. If I never took any risks, I’d never have left Kirkwall at all, and we wouldn’t even be here together.” She tilted her head coyly. “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad I’m here with you.”

He looked away from her and didn’t reply, and Rynne waited, hoping for him to say he was happy to be here with her too. When no such response was forthcoming, she pushed away her disappointment and blithely pressed on.

“So it’s risky leaving the ship,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s also risky being on the ship, as you said yourself. Everything is risky. So we’ll make it less risky.”

“How?” he grunted.

She shrugged. “Keep teaching me. Keep training me. I’ll get better, all right? I’ll work hard and I’ll get better at everything, then you won’t have to come rescuing me all the time. Don’t get me wrong, the rescuing is extremely appealing,” she winked at him, “but sooner or later it’s going to get tiresome for us both.”

He shook his head slightly and refused to look at her, so she took a tiny step closer to him. “Just teach me, Fenris. I’ll learn anything. I told you, I’m a fast learner.”

He finally looked at her, and a shiver of heat trickled down her throat. His eyes were so… so fucking green. And so intense.

And she was suddenly very aware that he was still holding her hand.

For a long, tense moment, she stared gormlessly at the endless forest green of his eyes. Then he broke the moment by releasing her hand and taking a step away from her.

“I am not afraid of taking risks, you know,” he said.

Rynne eyed him. His voice was suddenly very hard. “I didn’t say you were,” she said carefully.

“You didn’t need to,” he retorted. “I know you think I am overly cautious. That I take no joy in anything because of the risks involved.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think that, actually. I think that you think that about yourself, though, now that you’re saying it.”

He scowled at her, then folded his arms. An awkward moment later, he spoke again. “You wish to know what I enjoy doing in Rialto?”

She perked up. “Ooh, yes. I really do,” she said.

He scoffed and looked away. A moment later, he looked at her again, and Rynne beamed at him in relief.

His scowl was gone. He wasn’t mad anymore, then.

He dropped his hands to his sides and jerked his head down the hall. “Come on, then. This way.”

She happily hurried along beside him as he made his way toward the noisy main tavern. His hands were loose at his sides, and Rynne desperately wanted to reach out and hold his hand again, but she got the sense that now wouldn’t be a good time. She’d just barely managed to coax him back into a decent mood, and she was loathe to ruin it by touching him when he didn’t want to be touched.

It was so hard not to touch him, though. Rynne was a very touchy-feely person, but the way she wanted to touch Fenris, and the way she wanted him to touch her in turn… She’d never felt this way about anyone before, and she didn’t know what to do about it, or if she even should do anything about it.

For the umpteenth time since her glorious accidental barge-in this morning, an image of Fenris’s beautiful half-naked body flashed through her mind. Imagine if he ever let her run her hands over that hard, sun-bronzed body of his. Imagine him running his own callused, sun-bronzed hands along her legs – legs that had never been touched by anyone before…

His fingers on my neck. Suddenly she remembered their training session that morning, and a roaring flash of heat warmed her belly and her cheeks. Maker’s balls, she really hadn’t been expecting him to touch her, and when his fingers traced across her throat like that –

Shut up, Rynne, she scolded herself. He hadn’t meant anything by it. He’d been trying to teach her self-defense, for fuck’s sake, nothing more.

She glanced at him, hoping that he wouldn’t notice her blushing. He shot her a brief sideways look, then raised one eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” she chirped. She pushed aside her shamelessly filthy thoughts. There was no point in fantasizing when she didn’t know if Fenris even liked her in the first place. Sometimes he was so thoughtful and attentive, and other times he was snapping at her like she was a complete fool. He’d spent the whole afternoon ignoring her, but the look on his face this morning when they were watching dolphins had made her want to kiss him.

Kissing, she thought ruefully. Yet another activity she didn’t know how to do.

Maybe Fenris could teach her how to do that someday.

She stifled the nervous laugh that was burbling at the back of her throat, then shoved her silly thoughts aside and followed him into the main room of the tavern. For now, she’d just enjoy whatever activity he had in store.

Read the rest on AO3; Piper’s POV is next!

#pirate au #where the winds of fortune take me #fenris #fenris fic #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #hawris #f!hawris #fenrynne #pikapeppa writes #schoute draws #pikascout

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