fenhawke week

Their friendship is very important to me and it looks like hiding away on the Kirkwall rooftops just to get away from everything else for a little while.

Day 1 ✦ Day 2 ✦ Day 3 ✦ Day 4 ✦ Day 5 ✦ Day 6 ✦ Day 7 ✦ Day 8 Day 3 of @fenhawke-week 2026

(Fenris & Eleena Amell Hawke, 9:34 Dragon, at Wryme, the pride demon)

Demon: "You think this slave would choose you over his freedom?" Fenris: "Cast your eyes elsewhere, demon. I won my freedom from the magisters long ago." Demon: "But you fear them still. They've left their marks on your body and your mind. With my aid, you could be free forever. You could have power enough to challenge any who would change you." Fenris and Hawke: "... [gives the demon the middle finger]"

WIPs

Warnings: none. Game violence kinda. Brief mentions of blood

@fenhawke-week

"I think I win" Hawke said, oh so confident as he spun his mage staff around and winked at him.

"Oh yes? How many did you get?" Anders asked from just behind Fenris, making the elf roll his eyes. Clearly Hawke had been talking to him but of course the mage had to interrupt.

"34." Hawke said, his staff now behind his head resting across his shoulders with his arms draped over it on either side. "Fenris?" he challenged by name this time.

"Also 34" the elf said, smirking some at her as he put his sword away.

"So we need a tie breaker" the man said, looking around for yet another battle.

Fenhawke Week Day 2: Reading Lessons | Grief @fenhawke-week

"Anything," he had said. "The whole house is yours; anything in any of the rooms—barring my mother's, of course—is fair game if you can read it. Come by anytime you want, and stay for as long as you'd like."

Rowan's invitation intrigued Fenris more than he would've anticipated. He might not be the most confident reader just yet, but he found himself increasingly inclined to tear into anything he could get his hands on; even fliers and business signs weren't safe from his watchful eyes and hungry mind when he was out and about. Rowan had picked up on this, clearly, and invited him to make use of the sundry books and papers in his estate.

"I'm proud of you, Fenris. You've learned so much so quickly, and I'd like to make sure you have all the reading material I can give you."

Rowan's words still brought a soft glow of warmth to Fenris' chest whenever he thought of them. He was… unaccustomed to the feeling, but it was nice. He certainly wouldn't mind feeling it some more, which was at least a small part of the reason he was standing at Rowan's doorstep now. Fenris felt a little awkward letting himself in like this, but he reminded himself that Rowan had explicitly invited him, and there was nothing to be awkward about. Squaring his shoulders, he cast his uncertainties away with a brief shake of his head and strode through the foyer.

Uncertain if Rowan was home, he made for his room first. It would be good to see him if he did happen to be there, but even if he wasn't, Fenris had decided that he wanted to read whatever Rowan had been reading. Or writing. He knew Rowan kept an ongoing journal of their group's misadventures, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't just a little curious about what was included. He trusted Rowan to be charitable with his descriptions given that he was never anything else, but he itched to finally dig into all the things he was once unable to, and the journal was first on his list. He'd seen Varric making his edits and additions, and he'd watched Isabela snooping through all the pages, occasionally lightly vandalizing one as she went. Now he would get to see what they saw. There was a whole new part of living finally open to him, and Maker be damned if he didn't take advantage.

Fenris' knock prompted no answer, so he pushed the door open and slipped into Rowan's dim bedroom. The journal lay open on the desk as it always did, and as he drew closer, the lingering smell of ink greeted him. The words on the page were dark, freshly penned; though the ink was dry when he touched it. Recounting that latest fiasco with Hubert, I expect. He must've been awake and writing until very late if the ink is still fresh enough to smell. Fenris chuckled softly, then sighed. Lately, picturing Rowan doing even the most mundane things had his heart twisting into knots in his chest. How often did he sit here, at this very desk, scribbling away into the small hours of the morning? If he thought hard enough, he could almost see it; Rowan's broad shoulders shifting beneath the thin silk of his robe as he turned a page, warm candlelight setting his dark red hair aglow like dying flames, a hand that so effectively wielded one of his deadly daggers now deftly guiding a pen across paper.

Hm. That was enough mental ogling, he decided with a short huff, annoyed with himself for getting distracted. He'd have plenty of time for that when he wasn't standing in the man's bedroom, for Andraste's sake. Right now, he had a journal to flip through.

The recent pages were familiar to Fenris, of course, whether through personal experience or through Varric's highly dramatized retellings over pints at the Hanged Man. He skimmed through them, immensely pleased with how well he could keep up with it all. That entry there was about that sleazy dwarf "entrepreneur," Javaris. The previous one was about Hubert again. This one was about their disastrous jaunt in Feynriel's dreams. Fenris grimaced at the memory. He was not proud of how easily he had fallen prey to the allure of pride, but seeing what Rowan had to say regarding his failure touched him greatly, to his surprise. It's not like he'd expected insults or anything quite so unkind, not from Rowan of all people, but he couldn't say he'd expected to find only complete, unconditional sympathy.

"I can't deny, I was caught off-guard by Fenris' decision when faced with the demon's offer. I thought him to be near unshakeable, though maybe that was overly idealistic of me. Everybody struggles, and he's not an exception, of course. No one is a perfect paragon of virtue; not even him (as much as I often catch myself thinking that he is). What mortal could withstand a demon's temptations when confronted directly like my friends were? I'm almost certain I couldn't; even the best of men would find something like this difficult to weather. I should know about that, considering I watched one of them falter and give in today. It just serves to reinforce the truth of it all: we're all only people, and people make mistakes.

"I'm glad he's alright; I was worried for a while…"

Fenris knew how closely Rowan held his beliefs about mages, and a journal would've been a reasonable place to air his grievances regarding their difference in opinion on the matter, especially considering his unfortunate hypocrisy in succumbing to a demon's influence. To read that Rowan still held nothing but admiration for him? It brought that warm, fidgety feeling to his chest again. Some of it was guilt, but he had to admit that it felt nice to be shown understanding.

Thoroughly hooked now, he dug through several more entries. Dragons, abominations, sadistic templars, good memories of Diamondback and nights spent at the Hanged Man; all things he was familiar with, but filtered through the perspective of the man who Fenris felt making a place for himself in his heart in a way he'd never anticipated anyone could. I wonder if there's anything in here that was written before the expedition…

Fenris shut the journal gingerly, then turned the front few pages over at random. When the book fell open, it was to an entry that had been thickly bookmarked by two things he very much wasn't expecting to see, least of all in the same place like they should've shared some kind of similarity that they didn't immediately appear to have. Mystified, yet overcome by a sudden, strangely somber emotion, Fenris gently set aside a pressed pink lily, withered and dull with age, and then a carefully tied lock of wavy, dark hair. There was a weight to these simple objects that clung to him like cobwebs, though the reason escaped him. Despite feeling slightly more solemn than he had a few seconds ago, he was still keen to discover if this entry held any explanation for the strange place-markers, so he turned his attention back to the journal.

"Bethany is dead."

Oh.

Taken completely aback, all Fenris could think to do was keep reading.

"My Bethy is gone. She caught the Blight in the Deep Roads and died thousands of miles away from home, and it's all my fault. Maker, it's all my fault. It doesn't even feel real; every bit of me is convinced that she could walk through the front door any second now. But she won't. I'll never see her again. All I have left of her is a lock of hair and her blood on my dagger. And Carver- poor Carver! I'll always have part of Bethany with me, but for Carver there wasn't time! I have nothing but his memory left to carry with me. That's not the fate he deserved! He should be alive! Bethy should be alive! Oh, Maker, I can't I don't know what to do; when I think about them too much, it hurts to breathe. My baby brother, my sweet little sister- I'm so sorry. With everything in me, I am so sorry."

The handwriting had begun to break down, scratchy and wild as if he had been scribbling down thoughts as fast as they could come to him. Pain bled through every pen stroke, almost as if the words themselves were open wounds, evidence of the writer's grief. Rowan's grief.

"I should've done more! I let them die! They would be alive, they'd be with me right now if only I had protected them like I should have! I'm their big brother! I was supposed to take care of them, but I wasn't enough! They're dead! They're dead because I wasn't good enough!"

There was a tear at the end of the final sentence. In the depths of his agony, Rowan's pen had pressed so fiercely into the paper that he had torn it. Dark droplet stains warped the ink. Fenris felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach, like the breath had been stolen from his lungs. He'd never seen raw grief like this from Rowan before; it was like he was intruding on a funeral he hadn't been invited to. He didn't want to read any more. He didn't want to, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

There was just one more block of text, a small one separated from the rest by a gap and a later date.

"I found Bethy's favorite flower today. It was growing through a gap in the cobbles near Gamlen's place. It was like I got to see her again, in a way. I would usually leave it to grow in peace, but a flower like that wouldn't survive on the streets of Lowtown. So I cut it from its stem and took it home with me. I'm going to press it, give that lock of her hair a companion of sorts. That sounds a little silly when I put it down on paper, but it feels right."

Fenris let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Unsure of what he should even do now, he simply sat there in silence for a moment, alone in Rowan's bedroom with this physical manifestation of mourning sitting open on the desk in front of him. He couldn't just leave as if nothing had happened, as if he didn't just get the closest thing there was to a glimpse into Rowan's soul. His gaze caught on a neat pile of scrap paper at the edge of the desk. Carefully uncorking the ink and dipping the pen, he slid a small piece over, and haltingly, messily, he began to write.

"I know you believe you didn't do enough to save your siblings, and I am unlikely to convince you otherwise with just this note, but try to believe me when I say that you are not to blame for their deaths. You are the strongest person I know. They loved you. They believed in you, and you are worthy of that trust. You MUST forgive yourself."

"They will always be with you, Rowan, in some way or another."

Day 3 of @fenhawke-week, Night Terrors

The night had ended the same way it always had- a warm meal Garrett cooked, a long soak in the bath tub, and snuggling in the large bed with Mhairi in front of the fireplace, Garrett had his arms wrapped around Fenris as he splayed on his stomach, the elf’s head on the mage’s chest above his heart, listening to it beat rhythmically against his pointed ear.

So why was it that the elf was back in Danarius’ home? Back in Castellum Tenebris? He left this damned place years ago.

He could see everything his mind had suppressed, from before the lyrium markings took hold of him- the blood magic gripping him and holding him down, the same magic being used to tear apart other elves- ones that were once his friends, he thinks- being forced to watch their deaths, and some other unspeakable things.

Fenris could feel the blood magic release him, and as he tried to scramble away, felt a large hand wrap around his throat, yanking him back and causing him to let out a choked grunt, his ears flattening against the sides of his head as he was slammed into a wall, a loud whimper sounding; loud enough that it even woke Garrett in the waking world.

The mage blinked a few times, wiping his eyes as he felt Fenris twitch and whimper, his gaze growing more and more concerned for his partner. “Fen?” He rasped, his voice still gripped by sleep.

But the elf couldn’t hear him, not since he now was being thrown into a cell, the markings fresh on his skin, burning deeper and deeper, seeming to now etch into his bones it felt like. The lyrium was like a white-hot branding iron, causing the young elf in his mind to scream out in pain, the scream turning from pain to pure agony when he hit the ground and the hard material touched the sensitive edges of the new scars.

His body trembled in Garrett’s arms, who was now looking helplessly at his elf. “Fen.” He spoke again, his voice clearer and steadier, his hands gently touching the elf’s back, his eyes widening as his markings began to glow.

Fenris was now standing over Danarius’ body in the Hanged Man, blood dripping from his gauntlet as he stared down at the limp body. It was over. It was finally over. But his markings were still lit up in anger- his sister was still alive. The elf turned to her, stalking over with a deep seated rage boiling over. “You sold out your own brother!” He snarled, his hand now repeating the motion that had taken Danarius’ life, and now watched as Varania’s body fell limp to the floor, watching the blood began to pool, his gaze hollow at the last known family member he had, now dead on the tavern’s floor. Garrett’s words from that day fell on now deaf ears, as the elf turns and looks at him in his memory, seeing his mouth move but no sounds coming out. The mage reaches out and touches his shoulder, causing the warrior to snap. His hand snaps forward without thought, plunging into Garrett’s chest and Fenris’ fingers wrap around his heart, and before he can stop himself, his eyes widening as he felt a cry of “NO-“ screech in his mind, the elf crushes the muscle. Garrett barely has a moment to process what’s happening before his heart is destroyed inside himself, his body crumpling to the ground as Fenris stared, horrified by his actions, the teal eyes of the man he loved now glazed over and staring into nothing, his body limp.

“Fenris! FENRIS!” The mage panics, shaking his lover firmly. He didn’t like doing this- but the fact Fenris was whimpering and sobbing in his sleep was reason enough for Garrett to go to drastic measures. His grip hardened as he shook him again, tears pricking his own eyes as he starts worrying he won’t be able to rip Fenris out of the nightmare.

But finally, the elf gasped as he finally awoke, sitting up with a start and scrambling away from his lover’s embrace. “Hey.” Garrett whispered, reaching a hand out. “I’m right here. Whatever happened, I am right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

”I…I killed you.” Fenris rasped. “Y-You aren’t really here.”

”I am.” The human reaches closer. “Touch me. I am very real. I’m right here.”

The elven warrior hesitated, still seeing the blood on his hands, still seeing his partner’s lifeless body on the ground of the Hanged Man.

No. No.

He didn’t deserve the kindness from the man before him. He didn’t deserve to see the tender, loving gaze in the teal eyes he just saw glazed over and lifeless moments before.

Fenris moved and got out of bed, his feet hitting the floor silently as he started out of the bedroom, Mhairi lifting her head and giving a soft, curious rumble. Garrett got up, his feet thundering after Fenris. “Amatus- Fenris, what happened?” He called after him, following the elf into the kitchen, watching him stand in front of the sink, his breathing labored as he trembled. The mage kept his distance, not wanting to spook the elf more than he already was.

“I…I was back in the Hanged Man.” He starts quietly. “Danarius was dead. I killed Varania. Then, I was looking at you…and I didn’t…I couldn’t stop myself, Hawke…” Fenris finally turns to look at him, the tears now visible in his eyes. “I killed you. I felt your heart crush under my fingers- I watched you fall to the ground- and I couldn’t…”

Garrett slowly steps closer, until his hands are on Fenris’ face, wiping the tears away, feeling the elf shrink away from his touch. “Fen…You didn’t kill me. I’m right here. I’m real. You were having a nightmare.” He whispers. “They can be so vivid you think they’re real, they can feel and look so real in the moment. But I can promise you…I know you wouldn’t hurt me unless I hurt you too. I love you. And you care for me.”

“I love you too.” Fenris confessed at long last. “I have been in love with you since our first night together all those years ago. I was… just afraid of what that could mean for us if I were to act on those feelings.” He lifts his gaze to Garrett’s eyes, his ears lowering. “But I’m afraid to hurt you. What if one day I really do end your life on instinct? What will it mean for us if these nightmares continue?”

The mage smiles lovingly at his partner, leaning forward and kissing his cheek softly. “It means…we work through these nights. Together. Until you have no more of these nightmares… or are they night terrors?” He shakes his head. “Either way, we work through this together, as partners. You already know you can come to me for anything. And know that no matter what, you can wake me at any point, and I will do what it takes to help you.”

”I’m not some newborn mabari pup, Garrett. I’m not helpless.” The elf rumbled weakly, his arms wrapping around Garrett’s waist and pressing against him, resting his head on his chest once more, closing his eyes as he listened to the steady beating of his mage’s heart. “You’re not, but I am supposed to help you with whatever ails you. I’m your boyfriend.” The mage murmurs back, nuzzling into his elf’s white hair.

”I thought we agreed on no titles?”

”Oh so ‘partner’ and ‘lover’ is fine, but boyfriend is too far?” The human teases. “Maybe I should just go ahead and jump straight into calling you my husband?”

Fenris bristles lightly as his cheeks flush. “Don’t you dare.” He growls weakly, nuzzles into Garrett’s neck. “I need another bath. I don’t think I can sleep now. Not with that fresh in my mind.”

“Lavender oil? I can massage it in the way you like it.”

The third piece for the @fenhawke-week 2026 The prompts were Night Terrors | Friendship

Fenhawke Week Day 3: Friendship

@fenhawke-week

FenHawke Week #3 - Night Terrors

In with my third FenHawke Week (@fenhawke-week) contribution, and back on art because, like I said, I'm alternating each day.

When I saw the prompt, the first thing I thought of was one of them comforting the other after a nightmare. I love the idea of Fenris being the one offering comfort in this case, and what do you know, I've given Aelinn (my Hawke) the perfect reason to have a night terror: she's a huge arachnophobe. Like, maybe even more than the games indicate.

And what does she help deal with in Inquisition? A massive demon spider in the form of the Nightmare Demon. I'm convinced she was having regular nightmares of that thing for weeks after.

So here we have Fenris with his Blue Wraith hair, comforting her after another nighttime reliving of the horror of facing off against the Nightmare, as they travel together to Weisshaupt to confront the First Warden about Warden-Commander Clarel's actions.

Sharing tags below the cut.

Fenris Night Terrors

Rating: M

Pairing: Fenris/F Hawke

TW: Ptsd, nightmares, blood

I had told Hawke, adamantly, I wouldn’t be comfortable with journeying to the Fade. Yet she wanted to help that young naïve dreamer, Feyn-something. When he was one of the more dangerous mages--- dreamers could execute and prey on anyone in the slumbering world. Most cannot resist the Fade’s varying temptations, I scoffed. She should have called the blood-witch Merrill instead of me. Right now the petite elf was jealous- arguing with the keeper in dalish. Justice/Anders would join Hawke for this.

Hawke told me, “It’s your choice Fenris. I don’t mind if you sit this one out.” Her eyes glinted with fierce determination. I opened my mouth to persuade her to reconsider, but recalled how much grief she had, of her deceased brother who was this boy’s age.

The keeper woman was tracing runes on the floor, Abomination and Hawke sat inside the big circle. She handed them each a bowl and said, “Once you drink this, your body remains here but your spirit and mind will be over there. Be cautious with anything you see and hear. But this one (she glanced at Anders) with Justice will be fine, follow his lead.” They both lay down and fell into a trance. Merrill crossed her arms, frowning and stalked out past me. I was too worried to sit down. The woman stared expectantly at me.

I snapped, “What? I don’t desire to leap into that danger!” But I made sure to keep my voice down, didn’t want the spell to be disrupted. “Will—will they really be safe? Especially Marian.” I clenched my fists, my head was light.

Keeper had a serene wise tone of voice. “The Justice knows his way inside and who not to trust. It isn’t possible to predict if any entity can be entirely safe. And I can feel you have a Strong spirit, warrior.” I blinked in surprise at her frank comment, not a flatter. And she did not call me da’len, a term most older Dalish would use for a young one.

I sighed and sat beside the glowing pink runes of Anders and Marian. With the sip of the most gruesome bitter concoction, I blacked out and the next, I was sitting up in a hazy green world.

Running footsteps. “Fen, you came after all! Why?” She shouted excitedly.

I smiled and accepted her hug, and looking down at my arms, I was in my wraith blue form. The apostate’s aura was outlined with blue fire, his face had cracks of mana leaking through. “Because I—was worried.” I faced her.

“Ah it is good to be back here!” He boomed in that superior voice. I growled for him to hurry and lead us to where the boy was. The way he strided confidently in front with his staff, he said, “Come, I sense his mind is straining,” Venhedis, I could already tell this was not going to be pleasant.

There was a thick white mist, and suddenly a demon was talking in my head. I tried to resist, block it out, but the strong voice was incessant- I can help you, Fenris. With unimaginable power over those who left their marks on your mind and body, you can challenge them, not let them chain you. Don’t you want to truly be free? My head pounded… how can this be, we are in the Fade! It’s not real, I tried to say it, to force the conviction verbally, but I felt sluggish and my mouth did not obey. I cracked open my eyes, shaking off the discomfort but could not see Hawke or Justice. Instead there was a blurry scene of the dreamer-boy, in the centre of a circle of elves. Could not hear what they were saying, then illusion dispersed and I saw the keeper-mimic growing  to its full imposing height—its long curved goat horns, staring at us with its multiple insect eyes. Pride demon, my heart pounded!

With a whoosh most of the white mist cleared, revealing my companions Hawke crossing her swords defensively and Justice glowering, brandishing his lit staff.

Got way too carried away on day one of FenHawke Week with the "longing" theme and rushed half of the panels BUT 'TIS POSTED BEFORE MIDNIGHT \( . .)/

I am away for a big chunk of July but I managed to churn out a little drabble!!! My first bit of Threnody fic (kind of), aaaaa

676 words, teen

Day 2 of @fenhawke-week prompt: grief

Fenris tries to figure out how to help Hawke after her mother's death. "I hear a voice calling, calling out for me. These shackles I've made in an attempt to be free." ~ My Silver Lining, First Aid Kit

***

In the face of immense tragedy, Fenris froze. Hawke was slumped over what was left of her mother’s body, sobbing, clinging on, and refusing to let go. 

Varric and Isabela had run to fetch more of the guard while Fenris, Aveline, Merrill and Anders had stayed behind with Hawke. 

In a display of tenderness that was unlike the Guard Captain, Aveline sat with her arm around her friend, allowing Hawke to sob into her shoulder.

As long as he’d known her, Hawke had hidden her sadness away from prying eyes behind a mask of cheer, rarely, if ever allowing anyone to see her vulnerable. 

Years ago, she’d allowed him to see beyond the mask, when Carver joined the Templars. Hawke had showed up at his mansion, drunk and halfway to tears. 

Day 1 ✦ Day 2 ✦ Day 3 ✦ Day 4 ✦ Day 5 ✦ Day 6 ✦ Day 7 ✦ Day 8 Day 2 of @fenhawke-week 2026

(Fenris, Dragon [the Mabari] & Eleena Amell Hawke, 9:37 Dragon)

Fenris: "Do you think they teach slaves to read?" Hawke:"It's not too late to learn, Fenris." Fenris: "Isn't it? Sometimes I wonder..."

WIPs

"I swear, you've been spending too much time around Sebastian if you think that is scandalous."

Fenris runs a finger beneath the printed lines, pausing only to purse his lips and shake his head. "It's not the sex I find objectionable. Merely the quality."

—

Warnings: none

@fenhawke-week

"Whoever decided that words needed to sound the same but be spelt differently in order to mean different things in a sentence needs to have their head ripped off their shoulders" Fenris muttered as he leaned back in his seat and pinched at the bridge of his nose. His head was throbbing from the information he was trying to take in.

"Its not THAT horrible" Hawkes reassuring tone came as something warm gently pressed to the side of his cheek. The elf opened his eyes to look at the steaming mug she had brought him and sighed, sitting up and taking it to take a long drink.

"You put whisky in this coffee" he commented, amused as he watched the mage move to see how far hed gotten in the passage.

"Well I have to keep you rewarded somehow. This isnt easy to learn" Hawke said without any judgement as she sat down with her own mug, feet ending up on top of the table and her body leaned back and relaxed.

"how did you learn?" he asked, leaning back some in his seat, allowing himself the brake in the lesson for now.

"My mother actually. My father was teaching me spells and runes and potions.... but my mother taught me to read, maths and manners. She made sure if we were to ever come home I would have what I needed to have the family I had" she said, motioning around at her family home.

"so you DO know manners" he remarked dryly, nodding to her feet that she didnt budge even a inch, taking a long drink from her mug while maintaining eye contact with him.