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It was the little things at first. He would stand up to get the kettle and just leave it there next to the cups. He would be reading to her and then his eyes would drift from the page. He would stay sitting on the bed with socks in his hand. She thought it was something bothering him, a thought that would not let him be. He would say he was alright after she asked, and sometimes he would continue what he was doing. As time passed, he would simply remain looking at the void for some minutes, then he would look around trying to find something. A slipper, the blanket on the chair, the elfroot plants in front of the porch, the smell of apple pie, a hand on his chest in the middle of the night. These most basic things brought him back. But he would still drift away, a few seconds of confusion turned to minutes, then hours. Fenris would walk around the house, cautious. Sometimes he would gently press certain spots, as if looking for traps. Hawke knew something was wrong, but she did not know what to do. He was starting to act like the old templars, but he still returned after a while. He would furrow his brow and call for her.
Who could she write to? Who would help?
She could only think of Cullen, but his reply did not bring a solution nor hope. He had quit lyrium before the Inquisition to avoid this consequence. Fenris could not do such thing. It was in him. And they were still so young.
She went to the healer describing the ailments of an old man. The healer said it was the normal course of life at that age. She recommended peace and routine, let the man stay around what is familiar to him to diminish the anxiety of feeling lost.
When she came back home, Fenris was outside. He was in the middle of their garden looking at the house.
“Fenris?”
He turned smiling.
“You are back.”
“Like you.”
“I guess... Where are the others?”
“Others?”
“Aren’t we going to the Hanged Man?”
“Not tonight, my love. I am a bit tired”
The worst was starting. Now he would not just be disoriented for a few hours, he would recall other times and believe himself in them. She only hoped those times would be of the last few years.
She wrote to everyone hoping at least one would come. Recent faces surely would block any old memories. Fortunately, he would only remember things like the weekly games at the Hanged Man complaining about the bad ale, the sneaky nightly visits all done quietly because of her mother, the reading lessons next to the fire, two-handed weapons practice that she never mastered, armor and sword cleaning to be ready for any errand, and the ultra-secret knitting sessions to avoid colds during winter. All of those activities had been their routine in Kirkwall. It seems his mind agreed with Hawke and relived the happy in-between years.
Letters came back, and people started to arrive. Aveline and Donnic were the firsts. Fenris remembered the times when Donnic would visit him to play cards when Aveline wasn’t home.
When they were alone, Aveline confessed to her that things weren’t well at home. Donnic was starting to mention kids again. He was still of age to be a father, but she wasn’t, not for the first time at least. A child at her age was dangerous for both. Maybe it had been selfish of her to deny him this, but she didn’t want kids before, and now she felt it was too late to have one.
Fenris never asked that of her. He knew the feat was impossible. Anders had told her so after she recovered from the wounds that made her a champion. She hadn’t wanted children, but maybe he did. Maybe he just never told her. Would he ask now?
Isabela sent a letter and a box with wines. Aggreggio was one of them, but Hawke was afraid of what it would remind him. She asked her to tell him about his underwear, and his lanky and exquisite frame. He wrote to her that he wasn’t as lanky anymore due to over accumulation of fat for the long and harsh winter months, and that the underwear matter would continue to be a mystery. Hawke attached a note thanking her for the wine, and for her witty words. She had been the one to bring him to the present, and he stayed for a few days.
Then Sebastian’s letter arrived. He said he would pray for both. He asked them to forgive him for not visiting, but politics did not allow him to travel at the moment. He also sent a rare old book that talked about the templars that went through this. He told Hawke that there was not much research about this matter because the Chantry would not allow it nor fund it. It was already in dire state, and the last thing it needed was a scholar publishing that they were poisoning their people.
Merrill wrote that it would be better to not visit them. She did not know what she would make him remember. She wrote how the Alienage had grown and improved. She was teaching children, protecting the teenagers, and encouraging the adults to help the community. Of all the responses, Merrill’s was the most useful. She was an expert in herbs after all, so she sent many detailed remedies to cleanse the blood and activate his mind. She also wrote one to minimize the pain and give a peaceful passing. She apologized for it, but she didn’t want to have Fenris suffering unnecessary pain, and she didn’t want Hawke seeing him go through a long agony. No matter how good the remedies were, they were not a cure because there wasn’t one. She was very clear about that.
Hawke had been so angry that Merrill would even dare to write those things, but she knew that Merrill only wanted to help however she could. Hawke would have to ask Fenris about this. She would accept whatever he chose, and only comply to his sane self.
_____
Varric arrived at last with Cullen and the Inquisitor, now only Ellin. It was one of the bad days. Fenris was walking around the house, inspecting everything. He saw her, but he did not notice her. He didn’t even acknowledge her when she called him. He was mumbling worried about not being summoned, about being displeasing, about needing and longing. Now the truly worst was coming.
When he heard the knock on the door, he ran to it and kneeled next to it. It broke her heart. Hawke went to him and tried to pull him up, but he was stubborn. He was in panic. She knew this would happen, but she had prayed it wouldn’t.
“Open the door and kneel too. It has been days, and we have not been called. This could be our chance to be with him.”
Hawke opened the door to greet them and asked them to go with it; he was in Tevinter now. Maybe it had been the weather, today was a surprisingly hot summer day. She called him to join them at the table, so he stood up and started to serve them.
“I am sorry, mistress, this won’t happen again.”
“It is alright, my love, but I meant that you would sit with us.”
He nodded and sat very still on the chair next to her, his eyes focused on his hands neatly placed on his knees.
They were so quiet looking at him, unable to believe what was happening.
“I am sorry” Ellin said reaching for Hawke’s hand.
“Please, let’s not talk about it.”
“We wrote to Dorian to see if there is something he might know about this. There must be a way to reverse it.”
Cullen knew better, but he remained quiet. He had seen this before, and no one recovered. Fenris was stronger than any templar he had ever met, but lyrium was fast and incredibly damaging. Now it was only matter of weeks before he was completely lost.
“I am not sure if he would agree to some of those solutions.” Hawke replied to her with a tight smile.
“We only want you to know that there are other things you can do; you need options.”
Hawke had considered that but asking for cures about lyrium in the Imperium would only bring unsolicited attention, and magisters were nothing if not persistent.
“Have you thought about returning to Kirkwall? He looked happy there… He met you there.” Cullen said.
“I don’t want him to be out of his routine. I am not sure how he would handle the journey. It might be too much.”
“You could go to Skyhold. There are healers there. They must know something about this… Some Chantry thing.”
“Why don’t we let Broody decide?” Varric finally spoke, and Fenris looked up at that. “He looks well if a little disoriented.”
“I don’t brood.”
Hawke’s face lit up and let go of Ellin’s hand to hold his.
“Was I out too long?”
“No.”
He hated the uncertainty. He was good at being present, paying attention of the moment. It was what kept him alive for so many years. First in Tevinter, living one day at a time. Never thinking about the future and always forgetting the past. There was no point in holding grudges when nothing was really yours. There were only very few good memories, but there was always something bigger to taint them. Then, running. There was nothing else to think about. A slight distraction, and he would lose everything. He focused on the past for some years. It fueled and poisoned him. It made him strong and distant. But after killing Danarius and almost losing Marian to the Arishok, he had returned the present. If he had known he would only have a few years with her, he would have bedded her the night he met her. Forget the stupid mansion. He should have taken her right there and never let her go.
So, he brought her hand to his lips. Whatever time he had left, he needed to make the most of it.
“So, wicked grace?” Varric asked with a deck already in his hand.
Cullen groaned, and Ellin tried to hide her smile. He had been so embarrassed after that night. It had been so cute.
Varric started dealing the cards sneaking some to his hand.
“Dwarf, I forget things. I am not blind.”
“See? He’s fine.”
Ellin and Cullen left after a day; Varric stayed for a little longer. Fenris still got lost for longer periods, but luckily, he remained in Kirkwall. They started trying the remedies Merrill had sent, however Hawke still had to ask him about the last one. She thought about waiting for Varric to leave, but maybe by then it would be too late. She did not want to make this decision on her own.
When would be the right time? How can you ask this to someone? Would she be able to do as he said in the end?
“Fenris?”
“I was wondering when you would finally say something.” He turned to look at her, fully awake and back in the present. “You are so tense, even the sheets are rigid.”
“Ugh, I am sorry. I told you we should have two sets.” She said letting go of them, and he approached her hiding his face between the pillow and her neck.
“No.”
“As always very open to suggestions.” She whispered tickling his ear making him shiver.
“Always.” He replied pulling her closer to him.
“Talking about suggestions. I need to ask you something.”
“I don’t want to go to Skyhold.”
“We won’t.”
“Then what is it?”
“I wrote to Merrill…” There was a heavy pause after her name.
“What did she say?”
“It was not hopeful.” She answered barely able to keep herself together. He came out from under the covers to caress her face trying to erase her fake composure.
“Marian, no. Don’t hide from me.”
“It’s too soon. I can’t… I don’t want to…”
“Can I read it?”
“Yes” She said reaching to the comforter next to the bed. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m sorry.”
On the next day, they decided. He would continue with Merril’s remedies, and he would take the last one when he chose to. However, if for any reason he were suddenly incapable of making the decision, she would have to give it to him.
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You would never—”
“Hawke.” And that was all, he had made his decision.
“I just wish we could have had more time.” She said swallowing her grief.
“I’m sorry I wasted the first few years.”
She couldn’t help but find it amusing. Who would have imagined their lives would change so much, and now she didn’t want to speculate about any future.
“Silly elf.”
“Stubborn human.”
After a couple of weeks, he was no longer able to get up from the bed. His deep green eyes now had an unnatural shade of silver, and everything had a metallic aftertaste.
This was it.
He was aware of it, which somehow made it less painful. He would be in control of this little piece. The last one.
“I think it is time.”
Fenris left in the middle of autumn peacefully sleeping next to Hawke, content of having shared a life together however brief it was.