log; fenris & hawke WHO: Hawke & Fenris WHEN: Jan. 3rd, evening WHERE: Their room WHAT: Hawke and Fenris are adorable and get engaged. WARNING(S): They kiss, so... idk I guess if you're offended by men taking off their shirts and being mushy.
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It wasn’t that Fenris had never considered marrying Hawke. They had been together a long time, after all. They were happy together, despite the difficult nature of their lives. Fenris loved Hawke deeply, and at times the notion of marriage appealed. The religious aspects of it didn’t interest him much, but he liked the idea of having something official, recognized by legal authorities. Slaves couldn’t be legally married, because they were property, and Fenris liked the idea of having another thing that very clearly said he was free.
On the other hand, he wondered, was marriage so different from being owned? It could be seen as simply trading one owner for another. Fenris instantly bristled at that idea. But at the same time...he knew very well that he was Hawke’s already by choice. It was a question of philosophy and semantics, which was the kind of question that Fenris could ruminate over for ages.
In this case, he had. He’d thought of it on occasion for years now. What he hadn’t ever done was actually ask Hawke what he thought of the idea. Now that this bout of honesty had raised the issue between them, however, Fenris found himself itching to discuss it face to face. He thought about it endlessly on his shift that day, and it was still on his mind when Hawke returned home from Medical, so he addressed it in typical Fenris fashion: bluntly. Hellos had barely been exchanged when he came out with it.
“I wish to discuss marriage.”
Hawke had just about enough time to flop down onto the bed before Fenris just came out with it. One thing he could never accuse Fenris of was skirting around an issue once he wanted to talk about it. A lot of things had been said under the influence of that truth spell — a lot of personal things — and given the compulsive nature of it, Hawke had felt it smarter and kinder to wait for Fenris to bring it back up.
And here it was.
"Of course," he said easily. "What's on your mind?"
Waiting for Fenris to come back to the issue himself was a good plan. He tended to get difficult when he felt backed into a corner, and it usually resulted in either shutting down or running off, when it didn't result in a beheading. He was much more sensible when he had time to think things over and work some things out for himself.
“I find myself of two minds on the notion,” Fenris said. “I cannot decide if marriage is simply acquiring a new master--not that I think you would see it that way. I know you would not. I mean only that it is sometimes difficult for me to separate the concepts. However...I have also considered that marriage is forbidden to slaves, and that to enter into such a contract by my own choice is not ownership, but partnership.”
"Well..." Hawke pushed himself up to sit cross-legged. "Why don't you come here and I'll tell you what I think a marriage between us would mean. We're a little too far away from home to be talking as if titles and legal ownership of anything are on the table." He patted the bed in front of him, determined to keep this conversation from becoming dour.
Fenris came to sit as was requested, folding his bare feet up in front of him and letting his hand rest at Hawke’s knee. He liked small bits of connection like that these days, as long as it was with Hawke--he still didn't care for much of anyone else touching him.
“Tell me your thoughts, then,” Fenris said. “I confess I have wondered about them since we spoke on this over the network.”
Hawke took his hand, turning it over and running his fingers over the lines of lyrium on Fenris's palm. "I have a family history of marrying the wrong people, so to speak. My mother ran away from a very good match to elope with my father. Neither of them owned anything more than what they could carry on their backs. They were settled until my magic came along; we lived on the run or in hovels. Their love kept us together. Their marriage was a defiance of everything society was telling them they had to be. It was a shield. A bond, not a chain, and the legality of it made them harder to hurt."
“A shield.” Fenris sounded thoughtful, ruminating over the concept as Hawke presented it. A long silence reigned as he considered it.
“I have no pattern of a marriage from childhood to follow,” he said at last. “Even from the time I have memories of...there were no marriages in the magisterium I would wish to emulate. The only happily married people I have known are Aveline and Donnic.”
"This is what we want it to be. I would happily marry you if you wanted to be married, and if not…?" Hawke shrugged, looking nothing less than loving. Especially after Adamant, he had a way of looking at Fenris like he still couldn't believe they were together. "We're not doing too shabby as we are. I happen to like us very much."
Fenris smiled faintly, in that quietly warm way that only Hawke ever saw. “I like us very much as well,” he said. “Whether we were to marry or not, I am yours, always. The idea of marriage does appeal at times, though. I think I might like to call you my husband.”
Words mattered to Fenris. He liked having the right words for things, in any of the languages he spoke. The longer he was with Hawke, the more the word ‘husband’ seemed it might be a better fit than ‘lover’ (and he stood by his statement to James that boyfriend was a stupid-sounding word.) It just took a rather large leap of faith to actually take the steps to make that true.
"Is that a proposal?" Hawke pushed himself forward, pushing Fenris back a little in the process so he could crawl closer. "Because I'm leaving tomorrow to go, I don't know, salvage or fight Grounders or whatever Danvers has us doing, and I'd love to spend the trip up there bragging about my new fiance."
It was then that Fenris realized that marriage wasn't just something that Hawke would find acceptable--it was something he really wanted. Hawke had always been unfailingly patient with the glacial pace at which Fenris approached all relationship issues--probably too patient, at times. He’d let Fenris bolt from his bedroom and fret over the idea of them being together for three years, and still took him back when he finally came around. He’d let Fenris consider the idea of living together for another few years, and that hadn't actually happened until after they left Kirkwall. It seemed now as though marriage was another thing Hawke had been ready for a long time ago that Fenris had come around to much more slowly.
Fenris leaned back a little to accommodate Hawke’s advance, holding himself up first on his hands, then his elbows.
“How long have you been waiting for me to be sensible enough to raise this topic?” Fenris asked, and nudged Hawke's nose with his.
"I try not to keep track of the time," Hawke answered honestly, easily settling in Fenris's lap. He was bigger, sure, but it was also easier for Fenris to push him off or change their position when Hawke wasn't between his legs. "You usually come around." He kissed Fenris's cheek, beard scratching against his skin. He meant it, too; for someone else, maybe the waiting would have been a bit much, and surely those three years they'd been apart had been devastating, but he knew the value of something good when he had it and had become adept at living day-to-day. As long as they were together, labels were only as important as how comfortable they were with them.
Fenris never minded Hawke on his lap. Hawke was larger, and rather gangly, but Fenris was strong and rather enjoyed having a pile of Hawke on him. Fenris nuzzled him back and took a light, lingering kiss.
“Yes,” Fenris decided aloud. “You may consider that a proposal. Unless you would like a better one. This was rather lacking in romance and ceremony, and I do not have a ring or any other token for you.”
"When have we ever stood on ceremony? But if you want to get me a present, please, get me a present. I won't say no to gifts." Hawke reached for Fenris's wrist, the one that he kept the scarf that he'd been given years ago wrapped around his arm. It was an Amell family tradition, deep red with the crest stitched in gold, though Fenris wore it in a way that the gold was folded inward and couldn't be seen by anyone just looking.
"My answer is yes, obviously," he said, kissing the tender inside of Fenris's arm. "We'll have to have a party, of course. I expect someone to get roaringly drunk before giving their toast. Maker, what I wouldn't give to have everyone else here right now." A pause. "Aveline and Varric, at least." As if Fenris would want Anders or Merrill at a wedding.
“And Donnic and Isabela,” Fenris added. Carver, too, were it possible, even as much of a disagreeable brat as he could be. He might allow for Merrill if plied with sufficient alcohol of sufficient quality. Anders, though, never. There was no forgiving Anders, not from Fenris, no matter how many times he’d patched them all up over the years.
“But yes, a party,” Fenris agreed. “I like parties, and we can have our friends who are here present. It will be good.” He paused, then sighed. “I suppose we shall have to start conserving our alcohol rations for the event.”
"Surely Command will cut us a little slack for it. You only get married once. ---Ideally, anyway." Hawke plucked at the hem of Fenris's shirt, nudging it up to expose some of his skin. "Although I guess if you wanted to marry me more than once, I'd find a way to cope with it. A shame we're not at home, this would be a good scandal. Varric would love it."
“Varric would write a book,” Fenris replied with a smirk, and laid a kiss at Hawke’s hairline, then another at his cheek. “He would style me as some sort of brooding romantic hero, probably with a swirling black cape, seducing the charming prince with my wicked kisses that taste of bad metaphors.”
Fenris loved Varric dearly, but the dwarf wrote utter trash. Entertaining trash of which Fenris had read every single word, but it was still trash. He rather enjoyed the notion of himself and Hawke as the dashing heroes of a romance, though (an opera would be better, but he didn’t know anyone who wrote operas). His entertainment with the idea had him trailing playful kisses on past Hawke’s lips and down his throat.
"You don't own a swirling black cape? I'm sorry, we have to call it off, I've been lied to." Though knowing Varric, he was probably going to write a story like this anyway, if only to put a comforting spin on the reality (that in real life, Hawke was gone and Fenris would be in mourning forever). When the thought hit him, it dragged down his mood, and Hawke quickly tried to brush that feeling off by leaning back a little, just enough to pull off his own shirt before closing the distance again. "I am the worst prince, though."
“Nonsense.” Fenris laughed quietly, down low in his chest, as he tipped his head to nuzzle Hawke’s cheek. He’d turned into something a bit like a cat over the years, taking great pleasure in that sort of contact when it suited him. He enjoyed kisses as a destination in and of themselves, too, taking time with each one as a unique experience. Hawke was the only person he’d been with whom he actually wanted to be with, and as Fenris had worked slowly through some of his past trauma, he had come to revel in genuine intimacy and pleasure that wasn’t coerced.
“Maybe I should get a cape,” Fenris mused, his lips barely leaving Hawke’s. “Or is that too much a tall man’s accessory?”
"Who said there was a height requirement for capes?" The audacity of such a restriction! Hawke tutted disapprovingly and swallowed up anything additional thought in another kiss. They could talk extra clothes later, when he was less preoccupied with taking Fenris's off.
Fenris had held every intention of explaining that he couldn’t see a cape really sweeping properly on someone of his height. He was enjoying kisses more than explaining about appropriate sartorial choices for a romantic hero, though, and went for that instead. He leaned back toward the pillows and gave a gentle tug at Hawke’s shoulder to suggest that he follow. The night was young, and they had an engagement to celebrate.