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“You knew!” There’s but a faint glow to Fenris' skin; one that he’s clearly attempting to keep under control.
Hawke clenches his jaw, silently thanking the Maker for his previous bout of good judgement. He had contemplated going about this in a different manner, but ultimately decided to leave the child with Varric until after confronting Fenris with the news.
“You knew,” Fenris repeats, seething with the words, “and you left, and you kept this from me.”
“Fenris,” Hawke says. His voice is calm enough, attempting at reasonability, but there is a warning beginning to bubble underneath it. “I did not-”
“Do not give me that, Garrett! Do you take me for a fool?” If there are angry tears stinging Fenris’ eyes, he is pointedly ignoring them.
Hawke knows by now that he is expected to do the same, in moments like this one.
“I know that you are not a fool, Fenris. And I have never once taken you for the sort of man to feign deafness for arguments’ sake, until now.”
Fenris’ upper lip curls at this.
“I am the deaf one?” The words spill like acid from his mouth. “When seven months ago, you so brashly marched off to Skyhold alone? Despite my pleas for you to reconsider? To allow me to follow you?” He flings his hand out, gesturing angrily. “When you raucously tossed my opinion on the matter aside, in favor of risking your life yet again? Travelled without me to that Maker-forsaken place? Willingly offered yourself up as their sacrificial lamb? And I am the one who does not listen?”
“I would not have you risk your life.” Hawke’s voice is firm, steady. Rehearsed. “I told you as much before I left, just as I told you that it would not be forever.”
“The decision should not have been yours alone to make,” Fenris snaps, “and you had no way of knowing for certain!”
“I am here now!”
“And what would I have done if you were not?! If-” Fenris cuts himself off with a sob.
Hawke pauses in his tracks, then steps forward to place a tentative hand on Fenris’ trembling shoulder.
“That was never going to happen. I promised you.” He squeezes Fenris’ shoulder, in a manner meant to reassure. “I promised I’d return. But in the event that I could not, I left you with the means to continue living comfortably-”
“You left me,” Fenris snarls, wrenching his shoulder away from Hawke’s grasp, “with an aching heart, uncertain of whether I would ever see you again.” He shoves Hawke backwards, away from him. “There would be no comfort in living with you gone! There has been no comfort since the day you departed.”
Hawke squeezes his eyes shut, releasing a tense breath through his nose.
“And now,” Fenris’ voice shakes as he continues speaking, “you arrive here, with no warning, after sending no word for several weeks. Carrying with you a child,” his voice breaks, now, “that I did not know we had. That I did not even know we had conceived. That I did not even know we could conceive-”
“Fenris,” Hawke’s voice feels heavy in his throat. A sick feeling makes itself at home within him, settling into his belly.
“That you hid from me!”
“I’m sorry,” Hawke croaks.
“What would I have done?!” Fenris is screaming, now. “What would we have done? Would I have even-” his voice catches in his throat, “would I have even known about her?” He covers his mouth with one hand, trying and failing to hold back a cry.
“I did not know when I left,” Hawke says, “Fenris, I would have never-”
“And you did not tell me when you found out!”
“And how would you have reacted?!” Hawke snaps, “To receive it in a letter, the message that I was with child?”
“At least I would have known!”
“I would not have you here, alone and sick with worry over both my life and that of our child! Not while I could not make my way back to you.”
“Why?” Fenris’ clenched fists shake at his sides. “Why, then, could you not make your way back sooner? Why not when you found out? When you decided that you would carry the child to term? Would those people truly keep you in harm’s way, knowing of this? Would Varric?”
“I did not stay away for the want of it.” Hawke says, stepping toward his husband once more. “But I was not in a state to travel besides. I was pregnant. I was already four months along by the time I found out, and it was not safe for me to make the journey back here.”
“Then why did you not send for me?” Fenris asks, an edge of insecurity masked poorly within his voice, “I would have come to you. Without question, I would have come. Child or no.”
Hawke releases a long sigh, moving to sit down for the first time since reentering their home. “I am sorry.”
He looks up, finally meeting Fenris’ pained gaze. “You will never understand how sorry I am for bringing this heartache upon you, Fenris. But there was work to be done. I had to stay, and I could not bear letting you come and put yourself in harm’s way.”
“And yourself?”
“I stayed out of trouble as best I could.”
Fenris snorts at that- a familiar, involuntary sound. The kind that would normally escape him whenever Hawke engaged in some particularly ridiculous train of thought. The kind that had, very often, morphed into laughter.
Hawke’s shoulders release a small amount of the tension they’ve been carrying since he arrived.
“I’ve never known you to avoid trouble, Garrett.”
“I know, it doesn’t sound very believable when I say it out loud.”
Fenris’ mouth forms a hard line, caught somewhere between hiding a smile and suppressing a cry.
“At the very least,” Hawke continues, “I avoided running headfirst toward it.”
“…You promise?”
“I do,” he says, locking eyes with the man before him, “I swear on everything I hold dear. Fen, I was always going to come back to you.”
Fenris swallows audibly. “Okay,” he says.
A bit more of the tension dissipates from Hawke’s body. He breathes a sigh of something resembling relief.
Fenris drops his gaze to the floor. His hands clench and unclench nervously. “…Where is she now?”
Hawke allows himself a small, tired smile.
“She’s with Varric.”
Fenris raises a wary eyebrow.
“He’s actually proven to be a very competent uncle, and a very valuable asset. Especially when she wakes up hours before dawn, needing to be held.” Hawke sinks down further into his seat, finally allowing himself to relax. “Dwarves run very warm, you know. Puts her right to sleep every time.”
A ghost of a smile appears on Fenris’ lips, at that.
Hawke aches to kiss him.
“…They’re not in the bar, are they?” Fenris asks, after a moment. He sounds as though he’s afraid to know the answer.
“…”
“Hawke.”
“They might be in the bar.”
“Venhedis,” Fenris breathes. He pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I did ask him to bring her back here in a couple of hours! I don’t suspect they’ll be too much longer, now.”
Fenris takes in his words, nodding slowly.
He looks a bit like a deer in the path of a fireball, Hawke thinks, as he watches the realization dawn on Fenris. He was going to meet their daughter soon. Going to live with the both of them, after tonight. Hawke’s heart does a little flip at the thought.
Things are not perfect between them. Especially not right now, with the rather huge news he’s suddenly dropped into his husband’s lap. ‘Hello dear, I’m back from saving the world! And while I was gone, I birthed a baby that neither of us were aware of when I left. Sorry about the recent month of silence, by the way, I was travelling back home as quickly as I could with a newborn once things were all settled at that place you didn’t want me to go.’
Fenris is handling the situation better than he could be, all things considered. And beneath every one of his protective barbs, Hawke can still see his soft center. Fenris wants this, too.
He’s hurting, and he’s afraid, but he wants all of this too. Just as badly as Hawke does.
“May I?” Fenris asks after a moment, motioning to the space beside Hawke.
“Please,” Hawke breathes, “I wasn’t sure-”
“I am.” With those words, Fenris collapses into the seat, immediately deflating against his husband.
“I love you,” Hawke says. He closes his eyes and inhales Fenris’ scent, indulging in the familiar comfort he’d been without for so long. “Maker, I love you.”
“I have missed you,” Fenris answers. “You cannot imagine the extent to which I have longed for your return.” He presses his face into Hawke’s neck, right where it meets his shoulder.
“I have a very active imagination.” Hawke mutters, face buried in Fenris’ hair, causing him to chuckle quietly. “And yet, I cannot imagine any reality in which you could have missed me more than I’ve missed you.”
“Imagine harder,” Fenris deadpans.
Hawke hums, planting a kiss against Fenris’ hairline.
“Hm… No, I still can’t seem to picture it. Though I suppose childbirth does have an effect on cognitive function.” He shakes his head. “Such a shame. The brightest mind of our generation, struck down in my prime.”
Fenris slaps halfheartedly at Hawke’s chest.
“If that’s the case, we were all doomed from the start.”
Hawke gasps in mock offense, causing Fenris to exhale a small laugh through his nose. They sit in silence for a few moments before Fenris opens his mouth to speak once more, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Does she…” he starts, then stops. Thinks about how to phrase his question. “Did you give her a name yet?”
“Of course not,” Hawke answers immediately, “I would never. Not without you.”
Fenris swallows. “I haven’t the faintest idea what we would call her.”
“We don’t have to rush it,” Hawke says, running a comforting hand across Fenris’ back, “she’s only two months old. We have time.”
Fenris looks up at his husband. “I suppose we do.”
Hawke lays his hand tenderly upon Fenris’ cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the cheekbone. Fenris’ eyes soften.
“May I?” Hawke asks.
A breath is released, slow and shaking. “Please,” Fenris answers.
And he feels, as Hawke leans in and kisses him, that a lost piece of himself has been returned to its proper place.
A knock at the front door startles Fenris from his slumber. He opens his eyes to look around, groggy and mildly disoriented. Hawke still snores away next to him, unbothered from his comfortable space in the seat they’ve been sharing.
“Hawke,” Fenris grumbles, shaking him by the shoulder, “Hawke, wake up. The door.”
“Mmrrph,” Hawke says in return.
“Hawke,” Fenris groans.
“Mmno.” Hawke clings tighter to Fenris’ waist, nearly engulfing his husband as he wraps himself around his smaller frame.
“Hey, lovebirds!” Comes Varric’s shout, his voice muffled by the thick wood of the front door. “Let me in already, Bianca’s getting cold out here.” A pause. “Oh, and the baby too, I guess.”
“Varric…?” Fenris wonders aloud, before jolting suddenly upright. “Varric!”
“What is it?” Hawke whines tiredly, following Fenris up into a vertical position.
“Varric is at the door,” Fenris announces, already scrambling to his feet and moving briskly toward the front room of the estate.
Hawke moves to follow him, yawning and stretching as he goes. “We’re coming, Varric,” he calls out as they reach the door, “stop trying to break the damned thing down.”
Fenris looks to Hawke, a frantic expression in his eyes as his hand touches the knob. “I’m not ready.”
Hawke smiles down at him. He takes both sides of Fenris’ face gently in his hands before leaning in to kiss him on the forehead. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be.”
Fenris sucks in a breath, eyes squeezing shut as he steels himself for what’s to come. “Okay,” he says, mostly to himself, “Okay. You’re right. Let’s not keep them waiting.”
Hawke wraps a supportive arm around his waist before unlocking the door. He slowly swings it open to reveal Varric standing on the other side, a baby bundled up in his arms and being cradled to his chest.
“Good to see you, Broody.” Varric greets Fenris, a wide and genuine smile gracing his features. “I’ve got someone here who’s been itching to meet you.”