So more of Pasha. Third time I’ve posted with him and Ariel now (this one even as Sinclair, Ariel’s sister). Had fun with this- Sinclair is enjoyable in a horrible sort of way.

Pasha is forced to be a guest in Sinclair’s home. As such, he’s forced to have a little chat with the demonic woman.

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Cortez and femShep (thane-romance) confiding in each other over their lost loves.

Never written Cortez before. Really quick short because Thane angst get’s me going after ME3 and you’ll be getting me to write chapters again and darn it that isn’t what this was for! Thank you so much poison-ninja for the prompt.

Steve was new to the Normandy and so he didn’t know everything. A lot of the small facts were completely missed because they weren’t things people talked about. They were simply what happened and if you didn’t know them you were never would. He accepted that. It happened on every ship. He knew the commander had been in something with the drell, Thane. Nobody would name what that something was, but Steve was pretty sure he knew what. He didn’t know that the Life Support was where the drell had stayed, where Shepard and Thane had fallen into their something.

So that was why he usually made his way to the Life Support room in his time off. It was usually empty and he sometimes wanted that. He felt stupid after he realized why it was always empty. But it was also warmer and he was looking for some tranquility after the turmoil of the Citadel. He made his way in, shocked to find Shepard sitting at the table, cradling the cup of steaming tea she had.

She wasn’t crying. But her expression was forlorn, lost, perhaps even a bit defeated. Steve licked his lips as he walked in. He had heard about Thane’s death and had thought- it wasn’t his place. Garrus or Joker or anybody else. Not his. She had done so much for him and he wanted to help her too. But he had just appeared on her ship and he had thought it not his place. So he had simply nodded to her when she returned- when she looked fine. Like that indestructible, infallible leader that pulled him through his mess of feelings.

But now he wondered if anybody else had stepped up. He walked forward as her head rose, eyes red and watery. No tears though. He wondered, sometimes, if she remembered how to cry. Because it might have been a very long time since she felt allowed to do so. She tried to give him a smile as he walked forward. He didn’t take the chair, piecing together the facts he knew and- that wasn’t a chair he could take- and instead leaned his hip against the table. “Cotez,” she said, voice sounding so normal that it hurt.

“Commander,” he said gently, taking her hand slowly- letting her pull away if she wanted. Because he wasn’t actually sure how to comfort her. That was perhaps why nobody stepped up. She was such a hard person to read sometimes. He wasn’t sure what he was actually doing. She glanced at their hands a moment, then he saw the slight tremor of her lip, and then she tightened her fingers around his and shut her eyes. He gave a reassuring smile she couldn’t see as she clung to his hand.

frikadeller:

How many times had Hawke complained in private? That it was “Boring, tiring, turning mind and body into one lazy slob, politics, Fenris. Magister politics. Sickening. I miss the dragons. Darktown. Even Meredith and Orsino’s couple spats. Didn’t even think the day would come when I’d say that.”

…

I saw this- and then this sprung up. Hope you don’t mind.  Because I love your art and seriously you’re amazing.

Fenris hadn’t seen Hawke smile in a long time. Not a real smile. The last time had seen a happy smile was when they were on the run. He was laughing and smiling as the mabari and he hunted. The dog playing more than actually going after any of the wildlife. That had also been the day he approached Hawke. Told him that Tevinter would be safest. That they should go there.

The last real smile of any sort had been when the dog passed. Hawke had sat in front of the fireplace, the mabari’s head in his lap. It was still a small estate, Hawke still getting some power in Tevinter. Fenris had watched from the doorway. Hawke had tears trailing down his cheeks and the old dog had stopped breathing a long time ago, but he continued to pet him. He was smiling, a broken hearted smile, as he talked about everything they’d ever done together. Fenris had eventually moved to sit beside Hawke, silent support like he always was.

But now as Hawke sat comfortably in the seat of power in Tevinter, the man was wilting. He didn’t smile anymore, his jokes became more callous, and he was becoming reckless. The only time he was back to normal- was the man Fenris fell in love with- was the quiet moments between just them. When they were alone and the world disappeared and it was just about their touches and their love. Sometimes, a glimpse of him was seen when he read the letters. Letters from the past. From Varric or Aveline, or his brother if he was lucky.

Fenris rolled over in the bed and watched the human dress, slipping into the expensive fabrics and smoothing his hair. He would then make his way into the bathroom to trim his beard and wash his face. This was his routine. Hawke would dress and then make his way down to the breakfast he would eat before answering the messages sent. Appeals and invitations. Everyday was killing him. Fenris thought this would be hard on himself. This life would bring back the horrors he faced. He hadn’t realized Hawke would become caged.

And Hawke was a wild man. Like his namesake, a bird meant to soar and hunt. To cry and sing to the clouds and dance with lightning. Not to be caged, no matter how golden the bars were. Fenris sat up as Hawke disappeared behind the door, glancing around for his own shirt. He needed to get Hawke out. Perhaps Tevinter had been a bad idea. Maybe Rivaini would be better. Or Seheron, in the jungle. Whatever the case, he was going to have to pen a letter to Varric, which dampened his mood immensly. He was thankful for the letters but writing to Varric of all people was intimidating. Fenris sighed as he shrugged on the shirt.