Najia do you have any Fenris fic recs :( It feels like NO ONE ELSE has played the game or they at least played it with only lust in their hearts because NO ONE writes him well!!!
I should warn you that these are all FenHawke fics because I'm one of those plebeians who doesn't read gen. but here are some of my favourite fics by Fenris understanders:
"Treading Water," fruitygoblin
For the first time, he did want to explain. Hawke deserved that much: deserved to know what had happened, why he was like this, why he was unable to give Hawke what he wanted, why it couldn’t be easy. Why nothing was ever easy, not for him.
The trouble was, he couldn’t. It wasn’t just a single event that could be related plainly, beginning to end, all the gaps filled in and all the loose ends neatly tied. It was a whole life. A whole world. Where to begin? He could talk for ever and still not get rid of all of it.
"A String of Glass Beads," badwolfmonica
How does he explain that the chains are broken but his wrists and ankles are still heavy with the weight of them? How can he make her understand that he aches to be unrestrained but he simply does not know how?
"Overwrite," besselfcn (rated E, rape, torture, medical abuse)
“Good morning, Master,” he would respond, and Danarius would smile, and it felt almost like a prize to be won.
It felt - natural, sitting next to her in the Hanged Man, surrounded by people that he cared for, or, in the case of Anders, at least tolerated. It felt so natural that he could almost pretend he had always had this life, and that Minrathous had been a strange and awful dream. Not entirely - the lyrium lines on his hands where he sorted the cards were always a harsh reminder - but closer than he had ever been. It was almost uncomfortable, like he was losing something that had defined him for so long.
"Dinner in Thedas," KaerWrites
Weeks passed in a strange mixture of bliss and grief, belonging and loss, home and searching. Vengeance, it seemed, was no simple matter of the extinguishing of one unworthy life, but rather the living that must follow, and the terrible, unprecedented void that must then be filled.
"An Impossible Woman," queenofquails
He knew - well enough, anyway - how the lyrium would have reacted to her magic. He had memories—unpleasant, certainly, but they were points of reference that might allow him to endure the havoc his markings would wreak. Perhaps more importantly, it would have offered him the refuge of blame. He could blame her magic, blame Danarius, blame his branded flesh for whatever might have happened.