Chapter Text
“Sharing a room with Bethy and Carver wasn’t all bad,” Hawke explains as she plops herself down on the bed next to Fenris. The little red book in his hands wobbles, but he seems unperturbed by her interruption. “Bethy and I would gossip about the cute farm boys around Lothering late into the night, and Carver would just huff and roll over in his bunk. We would always try to get him to blush by exaggerating about the boys’ most pronounced features.” She raises her eyebrows conspiratorially, but his eyes do not lift from the page.
“Mmhm,” he mumbles in response. She wrinkles her nose at his inattentiveness. He’s been challenging himself with more complex texts lately, and while she has to respect his diligence, his concentration had been taking away from their nightly conversations.
She glances around her bed chambers and sighs. Her own unread book lies on the bedside table, a Nevarran adventure story about dragon hunting that Bethany had recommended to her nearly ten years ago. Their copy had burned with the rest of Lothering, but she came across a rare copy in the Lowtown markets last week. While she had every intention of finally reading it in her sister’s honor, it lay untouched thus far.
Hawke reaches for the thick volume, but her hand hesitates. The tale she’d begun still clings to her tongue, so instead she grabs two pillows from the head of the bed and plops them unceremoniously in Fenris’ lap. He lets out a quick oof as she situates her head upon his thighs, but otherwise remains undaunted in his reading.
Once settled, Hawke continues her story,”Anyway, Carver would pretend that such things were of no interest to him, but we knew better.”
“Oh?” Fenris says, but she is not sure if he is actually listening or just playing along to placate her. However, the deluge of memories can longer be plugged.
“We heard him sneak out of our room one night when he was…” she places a hand to her forehead and rubs her brow trying to stroke the information forward, ”…sixteen or so, I guess. Bethy happened to still be awake, and Andraste’s ass was she ever the curious one, so she tiptoed out of bed to follow him.”
Hawke’s hands rise from where they’d been neatly folded across her stomach to illustrate the tiptoeing with her fingers, which coerced a faint chuckle from Fenris. “As Bethy tells it, she followed Carver out the farmhouse, into the yard, and behind the barn. When he dipped into the shadowy side, she lingered behind because she thought she heard a voice.” At this part, Hawke dramatically puts a finger to her lips and says, “Shh.” Fenris’ raises one eyebrow in response, but his focus seems to still lie in the thin red volume he is holding. She draws in a anticipatory breath, then continues her story in a whisper.
“Bethany pushed herself against the barn and could hear whispering, but she could only make out the word ‘Peaches’. She listened hard for a few moments, but Carver and whoever he was with got all quiet.” At this both of Fenris’ eyebrows raise slightly, and though he’s not put the book down, Hawke knows that she’s got his attention now.
“So Bethy was really curious, right? Eventually she can’t take it anymore and she peeked around the edge of the barn to see what he was up to. Well, what she saw made her clamp her hands to her mouth or else she would’ve probably screamed.” Hawke mimics the action by placing both her hands over Fenris’ mouth and laughing.
His eyes brighten in amusement as he asks between her fingers, “Am I now your sister in this tale?” She removes her hands, but then quiets him with a quick “Shush”.
“Don’t distract me now,” she says, “this is the best part!” He nods and she continues. “Bethy came running into the house and jumped on my bed to wake me up. She was in such a tizzy, I thought the Templars had finally come for us. But then she explained to me what she saw behind the barn.” Hawke pauses to pique his interest, and when his eyes are finally upon her, she explains, “I remember her words exactly: ‘Carver is kissing a girl! With his tongue!’”
Hawke looks up at his face hoping the tale has earned her a bemused smile, but Fenris only harumphs a bit before returning to his book. Her audience’s attention may have waned, but her own smile lingers with the memory, and so she goes on talking, “We giggled ridiculously about the whole thing until neither of us could breathe. Then we layed back on our bed together and waited for Carver to return so we could tease him about the whole thing.
“I remember looking out the window at the stars twinkling sweetly overhead and letting out a huge sigh. I slowly became aware of just how comfortable I felt, there in that dark room with my little sister leaning against me. We’d spent so much time running from Templars that I’d never felt that safe before. But right then and there, it finally felt like home.” She ends the story with a wistful sigh.
“I am…familiar with the feeling,” Fenris admits quietly as one hand comes to rest in a lock of hair near her ear.
“You are?” She looks up to find him gazing down at her softly. The corners of his mouth start to turn up, then slowly they broaden into a generous, true smile that spreads warmth through her whole body.
“I am now.”