Non Believer - Chapter One
- Dragon Age
- Chapter: One - Everyone has a Price
- Relationship: Fenris x F!Hawke
- Rating: E
- AO3 Link: Click Here
Hawke had always told herself she’d pay the debts and be out. Easier said than done. She finds herself in the Wolf’s employ, working as his gun, hunting down his enemies.
There’s nothing quite like a fist. Clenched tight, knuckles white, knuckles bloody. Bone against bone, colliding with jaw, spit flying. Her head rolls, hair across a sweat soaked face, tasting iron in her mouth. She gives another test to the metal around her wrists, pulling, and finds no give. Lifting her head to glare at him, watching as he lines up another. No, there’s nothing quite like a fist. Shaking her head as her vision swirls, as pain blooms in her skull. “Do it again,” she says as the blood dribbles from her nose, twin lines that muddy around her mouth. He takes her up on her offer, and her head hangs as blood drools to the floor, between her feet. Hair like a halo darkly, a veil that hides the way she grits her teeth.
“Enough.” There’s boredom in that voice. The bruiser’s worn shoes are replaced with shining newness, a neat black with laces tied. Not a scuff upon them. Someone has put a chair in front of her, and she watches as those shoes turn, take a seat. “We’re going to talk,” he tells her. “You are going to tell me everything I want to know.” Hawke licks her lips, eases back in the chair as she looks up. She’ll have a black eye in the morning, and she knows her lip is split. Taking a pained breath and yes, that’s definitely a cracked rib. Good enough.
“Why would I tell you anything?” A slow smile as she carefully shakes her head, and despite the blood and the hands tied behind the chair, she looks almost comfortable. Her shirt is old and stained, ripped where she’s been cut. There’s a hole forming in the knee of her jeans, and her shoes have seen better days. That hair is chopped and messy, clearly cut by herself. He’s examining her from head to toe, finds her lacking. The only thing striking is the clear blue of her eyes, a fixated ocean, a gaze that does not shift from his.
A stark difference in his careful attire, the luxurious suit. Almost all black besides that darkly green vest, a velvet statement of wealth. “You say that like you don’t know who I am or that you think I don’t know who you are,” he says. Green meets blue, and she doesn’t blink. His grey hair is trimmed short on the sides, longer pieces slicked back. His vitiligo winds like vines at his chin, curls down his neck. She can see it on his hands as well, and yes, there’s no mistaking who he is. She keeps that smile, says nothing.
“If you will not talk to me, perhaps you’ll talk to a friend,” Fenris says. Without looking behind him, he simply raises a hand, gestures someone forward. One speaks to another, the door to the warehouse opens. She strides in as she tucks the phone into her pocket. Another expensive suit, but this one hides a gun. She takes her place beside him, one hand on the back of his chair. Pinching the bridge of her nose, sighing as her hand rests at her hip. Wherever he was, she was sure to follow so it wasn’t if Hawke didn’t know she’d come.
“Hello Aveline,” Hawke says to her. Aveline’s fingers tap the chair in a hard rhythm, one after the other, the line of her mouth souring the longer she looks at her. That red hair pulled back into a stiff knot and maybe Hawke’s missed her face, maybe not.
“I thought I’d never see you after you left the FSF. After Ostagar,” Aveline says. The thing she remembers most about the Ostagar OP was the rain. Of course there was the mud and Aveline’s hair still flaming under her helmet, but nothing could compare to the rain. Soaking through their uniforms, through skin and bone, drowning in their blood. There’s been no storm since to match it. Hawke tilts her head and the smile barely shifts.
“But you’ve kept tabs on me,” she says. It’s said matter of fact and the tap, tap, tap against the chair continues to beat. Not that Hawke hasn’t kept tabs on her as well. Always a good thing to keep an eye in the right place, an ear to the ground.