AN:

I purposely left it vague which of the Hawkelings was born first. I never really decided which twin was 'older' because that's never been part of their relationship dynamic.

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Beginnings

Brand New

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For Fenris, the birth of his children was a blur.

There's too much blood, why aren't you healing her?

Hush boy, your wife has more work to do.

It's alright, Fenris. She's my sister. I want her well as much as anyone, but it has to wait for the second baby.

He had been numbed by the ordeal, shocked to see Hawke that way, to hear again and again that so much pain and blood was normal, expected. Hawke's mind was elsewhere, focused on the birth and not on him. He had been by her side for hours, but a sudden flurry of activity had made him step aside, at a loss for what to do. Despite the blood, it wasn't a battlefield. He was out of place.

He shuffled silently to the corner of the room. There was no sense in getting in the way. Bethany was there for Hawke, helping with more than just magic. She seemed to know just what to say to her sister, just when to be quiet, just when to ask questions. The Old Woman also seemed to know exactly what she was doing, as if she'd seen it all before a hundred times over.

Their skill, however, did not erase Fenris's fear. Women sometimes died birthing one child, and now there was another? More blood, more pain, more effort, and Fenris powerless to help Hawke in any way.

"Fenris." Bethany stood in front of him, snapping him out of his daze. She held a squirming bundle and smiled at him with a sort of warm amusement. "Do you know how to hold a newborn?"

After a very long pause, he shook his head.

"Sit down in that chair… and they say it helps if you take off your shirt." He didn't protest, or even ask why. He simply complied. Gently, Bethany passed the tiny bundle to him. "Hold the baby against your chest. One hand on the head, yes. There, just like that, nice and close. Don't fuss too much with the blanket, you'll keep the baby plenty warm. Good. You hold the baby, just like that, and I'll take care of my sister."

Fenris didn't say anything. He couldn't even be sure he nodded in reply, but he did as he was told and held the baby gently against him. The aimless squirming had stopped, replaced by a contented nuzzle. He focused on that tiny weight on his chest, not on the discussion between Bethany and the Old Woman, or the sound of Hawke's effort and pain.

After something between a moment and an eternity, it occurred to him that the tiny creature in his arms was his child.

He clutched the baby tighter, suddenly afraid he would drop it, and it let out a tiny squawk of protest. Fenris pulled the baby away from him, terrified he had somehow injured...

The baby simply looked up at him calmly. His child.

Fenris was suddenly no longer in his little house, but somewhere warm, with dirt beneath his feet instead of floorboards. His legs ached and his breathing was labored, but he was happy, so happy.

"Ah, Leto, that's the fastest I've seen you run," a man chuckled. "I'm sure that was faster than any of the other boys your age." The man drew close and ruffled Fenris's hair. He smelled of hay and horses and apples. Fenris looked up at him... Elven, but tall, with dark hair and a wry smile. "Well done, son."

The memory faded, and Fenris was back in Ferelden, looking down at the baby in his arms. The baby squirmed a bit and Fenris pulled it close again. Across the room, another baby cried, Hawke laughed, and the air hummed with healing magic.

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Later

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Fenris took in a sharp breath.

"Venhedis..." he muttered softly.

"Hmm?" Hawke turned away from the mirror to look at him.

"Nothing... You just look..."

Hawke laughed. "Your niece is a wonderful seamstress, isn't she?"

It was true, Larina had done masterful work with Hawke's dress, but it was Hawke herself who left Fenris breathless. The dress was appropriately modest for the occasion and Hawke's role in it, but the graceful sweeps of fabric accentuated her figure rather than hiding it. Her hair was pinned back in lovely waves and her face... Hawke smiled often, but rarely with such radiance. He was torn between the desire to see her always this way and to take her to bed and make a mess of it all.

"You look beautiful," Fenris managed.

"Thank you, love," she replied, handing him a necklace in silent request to fasten it around her neck for her. He did so, but only after trailing kisses down her neck and across her shoulder. "I need to keep my clothes on for a while yet," Hawke chuckled. "And please do save some of your more chaste admiration for the bride."

"Of course."

She turned and cupped his cheek. "Larina did no worse with your clothes, Fenris. It is perhaps the most dashing thing I've seen you wear outside of armor. I don't know how she managed it after living here only a year, but the style is almost Fereldan."

Fenris had given little thought to his clothing. He only wanted to look how he should. "Our son is Fereldan, and it is his wedding."

Hawke smirked. "Indeed, but after the wedding, and after I get a chance to admire you some more, I'll have you out of those clothes, Fenris."

"You will not hear a complaint from me."

Taking his hand, Hawke pulled him towards the door. "Come, I'm sure Merrill has turned our yard into a garden by now, and there are guests to greet." She laughed. "A viscount, a magister, a pirate queen, a Dalish keeper, and an assortment of farmers. This will surely be the most unusual wedding this town will ever see."

"And when El gets married?"

"Perhaps she'd rather invite us all out to sea."

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AN:

This fic has grown tremendously from the first few little ideas I had. I now have covered every year of Malcolm and El's lives from ages 3 to 18, and beyond. They have grown to be their own people, as the characters in my head often do. When I started this, I never planned on the trip to Tevinter, or anything with elves at all. I certainly never planned to include an adaptation of a country western ballad. I was so used to having a whole story sketched out from start to finish, but I'm so glad I chose a format that allowed for so many plot bunnies to spring up as I went along.

Going forward, I can't rule out future plot bunnies, but I do feel 'done'. I also know that, come October, I'm not going to have much time to write. See, the great news is I'm having a second child. The bad news is that having the first child took enough of my physical and mental energy that I couldn't even think of writing for a year. So, while I won't turn down a good plot bunny if one shows up, I don't see any on the horizon for this fic. I will give it some thought, but I will probably mark this fic complete.

I do have an idea I eventually want to write. It would be a start to finish story, not a ficlet collection, set 5+ years later, and focusing on Malcolm. The rest of the Hawke family would appear, for sure, but the POV would likely stay with him. It is like a 4th level plot bunny I NEVER expected. It will necessarily be quite OC-heavy, but I can't ignore it. If I do end up writing it, I will definitely post it here (as a new work in the series), but I am a bit curious if anyone would actually care to read that.

Thank you, all of you, for coming along on this Hawkeling adventure. I've always written for myself, but I can't deny that knowing others are reading makes it even better.

I also do want to thank my children, because as hard as it is to find time to write with a toddler underfoot and another baby on the way, I don't think I could have written this fic at all without being a mother. Other people might be able to do that, but I don't think the premise would have ever come to me so strongly before having a child of my own. Hopefully I can be as good a parent as Hawke and Fenris are :D