AN: Another Kink Meme fill, but since this doesn't really have any super naughty bits, I'm posting this here. This takes place after another fic of mine, which is just mainly smut and a look into Fenris' head. If you want to read that first, head over to my livejournal (aka-pine-writer dot livejournal dot com), click on my Master Post, and scroll down to the Completed Section, Dragon Age, and look for 'Let Me Show You'. It's in three parts because LJ said it was too big. :P

Original Request: Hawke and Fenris come home after another long day of hunting monsters/badguys to find that someone has left a little bundle of joy for them to find.
Because the idea of protective yet awkward daddy-Fenris makes me cackle like a madwoman. Hawke can be either male or female, though M!Hawke would be especially cool because of the whole "well we couldn't have had children of our own anyway" issue. Bonus points if it's a little girl :3

Warnings: Slash pairing (I shouldn't have to warn people about this, damn it), mentions of violence, threatening youngsters, off-screen sexy times, and much brooding.

Despite what some dwarf that had a penchant for tall tales might say, the Champion and Fenris were quite well known- at least, in their particular corner of the world. After all, someone had to fight off random monsters and dispel any bandits who dared threaten them.

It was a silent agreement; in exchange for not telling those searching for the Champion and his elf, said Champion and elf would protect the small hamlet and surrounding lands.

Between the warrior with the broad sword and the mage with a love of all things flammable, they were a two-man army.

And yet, despite their martial and magical prowess, they were still human (and elf).

"No."

"But Fenris, we could-"

"I said no, Hawke."

"Fine!" the mage fumed, throwing his flagon of ale down on the table. The patrons of the tavern didn't even glance over at them, so used to the arguing they were.

"Fine! I'll just tell old Molly Fram that my partner said it was beneath us to rescue kittens from trees. Not like we have anything better to do right now," he grumbled, glaring out the tavern window at the snow that was driving against the glass.

Fenris didn't even blink. "Silas Sinclair wanted us to help move his herd up through the pass to the northern pasture. He actually offered us real money Hawke."

"How long?"

"Few days, no more," Fenris said. "Even with the weather. He was hoping you could use your fiery temper to melt the snow."

"Oh, very funny. See how witty you are when I set your pants on fire."

"Figuratively or literally?"

They had been on the run from Kirkwall for close to six months before deciding, rather suddenly (as was Hawke's way) that where they were would be a good place to settle down and start a life together. Fenris didn't really see a reason to object; he wanted to start on their life together as well, and what did it matter that they had decided to settle in a small village that reminded Hawke of a smaller, more friendly Lothering? He had Hawke, his broadsword, and his freedom. He could not ask for anything more.

"I'll show you literally when we get home. I've heard about a recipe for Elf Flambé, and I'm dying to try it."

…well, sometimes he wanted something to gag Hawke, but other than that, no, he really needed nothing else.

They found their way home later that night, had a simple meal, and had curled up together under the covers of their bed, content despite their humble means. The cottage was simple and small, but it suited them just fine; there was a private room for washing, a main area complete with kitchen, and a spare room that was acting as their weapon and treasure storage. The bed that had been in that room had been moved out to the main area to take advantage of the fireplace, which crackled with merry flames despite the storm roaring outside. It would be lovely here in the spring and summer, as they had a small orchard outside, and a small creek not too far away.

It was a dream, a happy one, and for once in his life, Fenris felt nothing but contentment as he drifted off to sleep listening to Hawke's heartbeat.

Five days later found the pair trudging back home, exhausted but somewhat richer due to their activities. As an added bonus, Silas had promised a calf for them when spring came and his cows started dropping. Hawke was delighted, and had pointed out the many uses for a cow as they walked home.

"And not only will we have it for milk and, Maker be praised, cheese, we can breed her and start our own little farm, and we can have the little bulls for meat, and the girls will give us even MORE milk and Maker Blessed cheese-"

Fenris, by this point, was only listening with half an ear, occasionally nodding or grunting his agreement in appropriate spots of the conversation.

"We'll have to somehow come up with a barn for them though. I know some basic carpentry skills, but nothing as good as-"

Hawke was cut off with Fenris' hand slapping his chest, holding the mage back as their cottage came into view.

The few days away had done little to the scenery, save that the snow was deeper and the wind harsher. All in all, their home looked fine.

Save for the shivering body collapsed in front of their door.

"Hawke!"

The damnable man had darted around Fenris, and was gently dragging the body into his lap, quietly coaxing what appeared to be a near-blue woman to speak.

She wore tattered robes that protected little against the wind and wet snow, and was clutching a bundle of heavy cloth large enough to be a loaf of bread against her, blue lips moving and forming words neither Fenris nor Hawke could hear. Her hands and ears were already blackened from frostbite, and her skin held no color. She seemed to come back to herself at Hawke's gentle coaxing, and her eyes blinked slowly as she whispered something in a foreign tongue.

Fenris' markings flared bright as he snarled, grabbing the woman and staring down at her. "Quis es et cur hic?"

"Fenris?" Hawke said softly. "What-"

"She's from Teventer," he snarled in response, shaking the woman. The woman didn't fight him, but did clutch the bundle tighter to her chest. With a frustrated snarl, Fenris tugged it from her black hands.

"Misericordia," she whispered, unflinching under Fenris' furious gaze. Her eyes were aware, but deadened. "Misericordia. Do-donec nisi…filius meus."

The intense anger in Fenris' eyes faded, and Hawke watched with surprise as he rather gingerly pulled away the layers of cloth from the bundle. From his vantage point, Hawke couldn't see anything, but whatever was in it had Fenris frowning. He turned to look at the woman again, his voice lower and not as acidic.

"Haec si dolo aut malum mihi meus," he stared down at the woman, teeth bared. "-mortuus infans."

Hawke had had enough by this point, and with a worried look to Fenris, he gently picked up the woman and carried her inside the house.

"What did you say to her?" he asked as he drew blankets around the now-unconscious woman.

Fenris was still staring down at the bundle, and Hawke nearly jumped out of his skin when it let out a pathetic wail.

"I told her if she brought harm to me and mine," the elf slowly, drawing closer and showing Hawke a tiny baby in the wrappings. "That I would kill the child."

The woman never woke up, and she died early the next morning. Hawke silently went about disposing of the corpse, and left Fenris alone with the baby.

Fenris wasn't quite sure what to make of his situation. He had never handled children before, and the thought that this tiny, fragile thing was completely dependent on him and Hawke was very disturbing. He could handle slavers, giant spiders, and even the occasional High Dragon. He had endured the company of a naïve blood mage, a wrathful abomination, and a too-friendly pirate. He had spent a good portion of his life on the run, and had survived on only a water-filled stomach more times than he cared to remember.

But he had never truly panicked over his fortunes. Not like he was now, anyway.

"What is wrong with you?" he said, tugging on his ears in frustration as the babe wailed. "You are warm, you are safe, why aren't you still asleep? I thought babies liked sleeping?"

The child, if it was even possible, wailed even louder.

"Fenris?"

"Oh thank the Maker, Hawke," Fenris said, relieved. "Hawke, I don't know what's wrong with it. It won't stop crying and I don't-"

His words died on his lips as the mage considered the child for a moment, picked it up, placed it bracingly against his shoulder, and heartily thumped it on the back. A small burp rewarded his efforts, and the crying ceased.

Blessed silence, Fenris thought happily.

"You've never been around kids before, have you?"

Fenris shook his head, and gave Hawke a look. "Bodyguard, remember? Not scullery maid or nanny." He watched Hawke gingerly cradle the child in his arms, the movements neither jerky nor hesitant. "You have previous experience I take it."

"Besides Bethany and Carver, Mother had another child after them," Hawke said, smiling gently down at the now cooing child. "He died when he was a few months old, but that's not uncommon."

Fenris didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing about that particular subject, instead bringing up what he had been turning over in his mind since the night before.

"We need to get rid of it."

In all the years of knowing Hawke, Fenris had never seen this particular look of pain and outrage on the man's face. It was as if Fenris had somehow betrayed him, and was slowly twisting the knife in further.

"We will not."

Fenris frowned, puzzled. "Hawke, that child is a child of Teventer. The Arcanum the woman was speaking was of the higher class; she was quite possibly either the child of or a magister herself. The only reason that child is still alive was because she was using what magic she had left to keep it warm."

"Is that what all the mumbling was about?" Hawke mused, glancing down at their temporary charge. "I thought she seemed warmer than was possible."

"She?"

"It's a girl!" Hawke crowed, picking up the child and offering her to the elf. "See? No dangly bits."

The baby cooed at Fenris while he smacked his face with his palm. Slowly counting to ten, he continued. "As a child of Teventer, she holds the possibility of having magic in her blood. She could be the newest scion of a noble house. If she is any of these, there will be those who will track her down and try to reclaim her. Having her here is an unnecessary danger, and I will not tolerate it. We must get rid of her."

"No."

Fenris glanced up at his lover, green eyes narrowing sharply. "What was that?"

"No," Hawke repeated, drawing the baby back against his chest while returning Fenris' glare. "She is what she is through no fault of her own. Besides, babies are a gift from the Maker. I'm not going to throw a gift back in His face, and neither are you."

"This child is no gift Hawke," Fenris snarled. "You're letting your feelings get in the way of your logic. You know that keeping this child is dangerous, but yet you are still willing to keep it."

"Fenris, pronouns please. The child is a 'she', not an 'it'."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Hard not to, with you standing right there yelling right in my face."

"Perhaps I'm not being loud enough if you're not getting the message."

"Keep talking like that and you'll frighten the baby."

Fenris opened his mouth to reply, then caught the gaze of the small thing that had somehow convinced Hawke to be on her side. Big blue eyes stared up at him, and the chubby mouth was wavering, as if the thing was on the very edge of busting up and crying.

His mouth snapped shut. He calmed himself, letting out a long breath of air. "Hawke, let's discuss this."

So they did. Fenris sat at the table while Hawke rewrapped the child back into her blankets and then sat down as well, the child cradled between his legs.

"Hawke," Fenris said quietly. "You and I both know that despite what we have here, we could lose this without any warning whatsoever. We have people hunting for us. To bring this child in as well would only add to those looking for us."

Hawke was staring at him defiantly. Fenris decided it was time to switch tactics.

"Hawke," he said gently. "What kind of life for a child is that?"

Hawke's shoulders slumped, and Fenris felt slight horror as the mage turned on the Kicked Puppy look. "I just," he mumbled. "Fenris, I think it is fate or something."

"Explain."

Hawke glanced down at the bundle, a small smile lighting up his features. "Well, you know I love you, right?"

Fenris blinked. "Of course."

"You see, when two people love each other very much-"

"Hawke."

"Erm, well, I thought this was just our way of starting a family. Since, you know, we obviously don't have all the right parts-"

"Our parts are perfectly compatible!" Fenris retorted before he could stop himself. He ignored the blush starting at his ears at Hawke's rather devious smile. "Continue."

"Anyway, so we have a way to start our own family," Hawke said. "We have the little one here. Family started. Everyone goes home happy."

"Hawke," Fenris sighed. "Do you…do you really want a family that bad? Am I not good enough for you?"

Hawke frowned and reached a hand across the table, grasping Fenris' in his gently. "Fenris, you are more than good enough for me; Fade, sometimes I think I don't deserve you. But…surely you understand? I love you with all my heart, but I do have some extra space to share. Don't you find the idea of molding, shaping, and loving a child into someone that could easily shape the world into something magnificent to be thrilling? Don't you want to spoil someone else besides me? Don't you want to pass on our skills and knowledge?"

Hawke fell silent, and Fenris thought over what his love had said for a long time. He weighed the pros and cons, and with a grim resolve, nodded his assent. "Very well. We will keep the child then."

Hawke's smile was beyond dazzling, and Fenris found himself on the receiving end of a great bear hug. "Thank you Fenris. So, what do we name her?"

Fenris cocked an eyebrow. "We have to name it?" He laughed quietly at Hawke's glower.

"Fine," the mage said. "I'll name her. Let's see…I rather like Raven, but with the last name Hawke it doesn't really…hmm…oh! Got it. Chantima."

"Chantima?" Fenris asked slowly. "It's…pleasing. Where did you come across a name like that?"

"I dunno," Hawke shrugged, shifting the bundle in his arms a little. "I think I read it in a book somewhere. Here," he said, placing the baby in Fenris' lap. "Hold her. We'll need supplies. Milk, clothing, and more."

Fenris fought down the urge to panic as Hawke grabbed his coat. "H-Hawke? I don't know what I'm doing with this-"

"You'll be fine Fenris," Hawke chuckled. "Just hold her, make sure she stays warm, and if she starts crying, burp her or change her pants if she stinks. I'll be back when I have everything." And with that, he was gone.

Leaving Fenris alone with their newest family member.

He stared down at the bright blue eyes that stared back. Tentatively, he reached out with a finger, running it gently down a soft round cheek.

Chantima gurgled happily, and latched onto his finger with her two hands and tugging insistently.

Despite the added danger she represented, Fenris felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

The first time Fenris is ordered to change the diaper, he nearly throws down everything and leaves. He tried to tell Hawke it was because it stunk too much, but his lover knew better ("Oh, Fenris, we've waded through much worse than this in the sewers in Lowtown!"). In all honesty, Fenris just hated admitting that he had no idea what to do.

Luckily, Hawke was patient and understanding.

"We're not born with innate knowledge on babies, Fenris," he said softly once the baby- no, Chantima, Fenris corrected himself, was properly clothed once more. "We have to learn to interpret their cries, their sounds, and we have to learn when they need to change or if they just need to belch. You're not the first father to lose his head over it."

Comforted, Fenris had little trouble the next time he was called upon to perform such a duty. After that, he did it often enough that he could probably do it in his sleep- or half asleep, as it turned out, because she always seemed to need changing in the middle of the night, and Hawke needed his sleep, and Fenris was usually awake anyway…

He nearly has a heart attack the day the Templars show up at their door.

Fenris ran through everything that could have led them to their doorstep- perhaps the townsfolk had betrayed them? The tavern owner had always looked at the two of them with what morphed from curiosity in Fenris' mind to downright hostility and leering. He would kill the man, he swore. He would kill him dead, and then again just on principle. And then he would grab Hawke and the babe, and they would leave. Maybe they could catch Isabella at port somewhere and- no, Templars had to be taken care of first and foremost, he reminded himself. Yes. Trevor the Tavern owner could go chew his fingers down to nubs for all Fenris cared now.

Right. Templars first, then grab lover and baby, and go.

Luck was with him as Hawke was there to keep Fenris from charging out the door, sword swinging. "Easy, love," Hawke whispers in his ear, making him twitch. "Let's see what they want first. Probably after a certain blonde haired, self-righteous apostate that we both mutually know."

Fenris growled at the mention of THAT particular mage, but held himself back as Hawke went to answer the door.

Two Templars stood there, both with their helmets off. One was older, probably the leader, with grey salt and pepper hair, and a jagged scar across his temple. The other was much younger, closer to Hawke's age. He was of a darker skin tone, and dark, curly hair that ignored the laws of physics.

"Sers," the older Templar said seriously. "Sorry to bother you, but if we might come in for a moment, we'd like to ask a few questions regarding any suspicious activity you might have seen around here lately."

Fenris was about to tell them that, no, they would not come in, but Chantima chose that moment to start up a fuss. Hawke turned to him, intoning gently. "Love, why don't you take care of the babe, and I'll see to our guests?"

Fenris agreed reluctantly, but he did trust Hawke. Although he was a mage, Hawke had bloody joked his way out of worse situations before, and it wasn't like Fenris wasn't in the room…just on the other side of it encouraging their…child…to eat. Hawke had somehow managed to beg a pail of milk from a neighbor, and it had warmed enough for the child to drink.

As he held her gently while she drank, he tried to listen to the conversation over the crackling of their fire.

"-reports of blood magic."

"Truly?" Hawke said quietly. "How…many were…?"

"Just a small group of travelers; people on the run from the war between the Chantry and the mages," the older Templar said. He shook his head. "From what we could gather on the victims, they had no real ties to either side. Normal people, every one of them."

"So if you've seen anything odd, we would appreciate it if you told us," the younger Templar blurted, ignoring his superior's stern look.

Hawke glanced to Fenris, worry evident in his face. Fenris gave a short nod, arms tightening around the babe as he came forward.

"There was a woman who showed up on our doorstep not too long ago," Hawke said. He gestured to Chantima. "She left her behind."

"Where is the woman, Serrah?"

"She didn't survive," Hawke said softly. "She was more dead than alive when we found her. I can show you where I cremated her body, if you wish."

Hawke took the senior Templar with him, leaving Fenris alone with Chantima and the younger Templar.

"So, you would keep the child then, Serrah?"

Fenris' eyes narrowed as he looked over the man before him; his face was open, merely curious, with no sign of hostile intentions. "My partner eventually convinced me that it was a desirable thing."

The man laughed, making Chantima start, and then try to turn in Fenris' arms to take in the strange sound.

"Oh, Maker bless me, she's adorable," the man cooed, ignoring an increasingly awkward Fenris in favor of playing peek-a-boo. Chantima stared at him for a long moment before gurgling happily.

By the time Hawke had returned, the Templar had commandeered the child and was cradling her against his breastplate, making disgusting baby noises at her. Fenris had busied himself by the fire, grouchily poking and prodding the fire.

He didn't care if the babe liked the Templar more than him.

Not one whit.

"Oh look, she smiled at me!"

Fenris stabbed the log harder.

Over the next year, the two Templars, Ser Ruben and Ser Troy, visit several times. They were still searching for the Blood Mages, and they stop by to see if Hawke and Fenris have noticed anything. And to see Chantima, of course. Even the older Templar seems to have a soft spot for the babe, not fighting Hawke when the apostate pushes her into his armored arms.

Fenris had nothing to say on the subject, and refused to be taken in again by Chantima's eyes.

"I know how you work," he told her sternly one evening after the Templars have left. "You ensnare me so I do all the work, and then flutter your eye lashes at everyone else. Am I not good enough for you in the affections department?"

Chantima seems to be considering him for a long moment before burbling something in baby speak.

"I know," he sighs. "Even with Hawke it is…complicated."

She made a concerned whine at his heavier voice.

His frown slowly turns into a smile as he looks down at her. She has gotten bigger, and has gotten into the disconcerting habit of trying to roll herself over every time he or Hawke lay her on her back. Hawke wasn't worried about it, but it was still strange to Fenris. He had always thought babies were nothing more than fleshy lumps that ate and dispelled waste and cried. Chantima…was not that. She moved, almost constantly and made noises other than crying; normally happy noises that made his ears prick up.

The year is not just for the babe. They do receive the calf that Silas promised, and Hawke sets about building a barn; an interesting and amusing venture, simply for the fact that if he screws anything up, Hawke tends to set it on fire and be done with it. With their status as fugitives, and the price of good lumber being high however, Hawke must express his frustrations in other, more productive ways.

Silas and his wife become their baby sitters of choice when something crops up, and Fenris is very pleased with the arrangement. His sex life had disappeared overnight with the arrival of the babe, though not on purpose. He and Hawke were just normally so tired dealing with Chantima that all they could do was crawl into bed, curl around each other, and sleep.

Thanks to finding baby sitters, however, they are allowed some much needed alone time.

It is one fine summer day that finds them together in a wooded grove, naked and panting, sated and happily sore.

"We need to do this more often," Hawke muses from beneath Fenris.

"We do this about once a week Hawke," Fenris said, content to stay where he was for the moment. The weather was warm, they were alone together, skin touching, and he and Hawke would smell like grass and flowers for the rest of the day.

"We need to do it more often," Hawke repeated, sounding amused. "Are you tiring of me, dear? Has some other virile young man caught your eye? I know we just had our first child, but still-"

"You are ridiculous," Fenris grumbled, tenderly biting the end of Hawke's nose. That earned him a chuckle. "As if I could ever find someone half as good as you."

"Oh I dunno," Hawke said airily. "Isabella definitely knows more than I do."

"If I wanted a lifetime of itchy crotch, I would have followed her instead of you."

"Point."

They are on their way back to Silas' home to pick up their child when they come across the slaughtered caravan.

"Maker," Hawke whispered, already in and around the remains, digging through everything looking for survivors. He turns up nothing except more corpses.

Fenris' ears pricked up. "Hawke. I hear fighting ahead."

They found a young boy, an elf, no older than five, holding his own against two men who had weapons, but did not draw them. The boy was a snarling, biting, kicking whirlwind of energy, and the men already had his marks on their arms.

"Easy, lad, we don't want to hurt you," one of them crooned softly. The croon turns into a loud curse as the boy kicks him. "You'll fetch more if you're not damaged."

Damaged. Don't damage him, he'd fetch a higher price.

Slavers.

Fenris' world bleeds red, and when he comes out of it once more, both men are dead, and the boy is before him, crouched on the ground and staring up at him with wide green eyes. Now that Fenris can get a proper look at him, he seems even younger than five. Baby fat still covers his face and limbs, and the green eyes still hold a hint of the baby blue color. His hair is black, short and ruffled. His small elf ears are lowered, and he is holding quite still, much like a fawn in danger of predators finding it if it moves.

Fenris looks down at the boy, silent for a long moment before looking away, ears lowering. "Go home boy," he finally mutters, turning back to his lover.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when something grabs his hand. The boy is there, silent, and watching him with a solemn expression on his young face. Fenris stares at him, and then looks helplessly at Hawke.

The damnable man is beaming. "Well, I hate to interrupt the cute, but we should check on Silas."

Fenris nods, and goes to follow his lover. The boy holding his hand does not let go, and Fenris lets him tag along with a sigh.

The next time Ser Troy shows up, he can't help but thump Fenris on the back as he laughs. "You two managed to spawn again, eh?"

Fenris did not find that amusing, but Hawke laughed right along with the other man, so Fenris left them, grumbling under his breath as he left the house.

He settled on the stump outside, turning his gaze on the younger members of their little…family. Family, he mused. Odd, foreign. Comforting and warm though. It was nice.

The boy had not left their side since the caravan incident, and that was a month ago. It was odd, but he rarely talked. Fenris supposed it might have been due to trauma and his youth, but he was unsure if that was all it was. Maybe the boy just didn't like to talk unless it was absolutely necessary.

Hawke had had to use all of his charm and persuasion to get the boy to even admit his age and name.

"Five," the boy said quietly after much prodding. "Raziel."

The boy had no other family, so Hawke had offered him their home. The boy had considered for a moment before looking at Fenris, then saying "Yes."

Raziel got along well with Chantima, who seemed fascinated with the newest member of her family. She liked to pull on his ears, Fenris noticed with a sympathetic wince. The boy did nothing to stop her, though, so he let them be.

Ser Troy came outside not long after, bid Fenris goodbye, and after cooing over Chantima one last time, left.

"Strange, isn't it?" Hawke murmured beside him.

Fenris glanced back at him, but the mage was staring at the two children. He looked back, a small smile on his face. "Yes. I never thought, never dreamed, we could have something like this."

"Never dared to dream, huh?" Hawke chuckled. "I'm the bloody Champion of Kirkwall, slayer of Arishoks and insane blood mages. If I can deal with all of that, I would think children and a life in the countryside would be cake."

Fenris shook his head. "For you, perhaps. As for me, I was content with what we had, no matter how little it was."

"And now? Are you content?"

Fenris considered for a long moment, watching Raziel gently help Chantima to stand, her feet dancing delightedly up and down, squealing happily when her feet touched the grass.

"I am not content. I am happy."

"Good," Hawke said, pulling Fenris into a hug, sounding very pleased and smug.

"HAWKE!"

The mage nearly dropped his hammer as Fenris burst from their home, Chantima in his arms.

"What's wrong?"

Fenris stormed over, still holding tight to the wiggling mass that was their daughter. "She…she said-"

"Papa!"

Fenris' eyes went wider (if it was even possible) and held the baby to Hawke, as if in offering.

Hawke spent the next five minutes laughing until he was crying and his sides were sore.

"C'mon, c'mon, say 'Daddy'. Sweet thing, snuggims, say 'Daddy'. Daaa deee."

"Hawke, please stop. You're embarrassing me in front of the children."

The mage chuckled, looking up at Fenris with a devious look. "I could do worse things that would really embarrass you."

"Hawke!"

"Sorry," he laughed, turning his attention back to the toddler. "Say Daddy. Oh, please sweetheart. Daddy?"

Chantima cocked her head, then turned to Fenris, beamed, and pointed her finger at him. "Papa!"

"I'll leave you two alone," Fenris sighed, heading for the door. "Perhaps she'll be able to focus on you if I'm not here."

"Don't you want to be here when she finally says it?" Hawke called.

"I'm sure you'll let me know when it happens."

He headed outside, retrieved his weapon from the barn, and started practicing in the yard.

He did not stop, nor make any comment when Raziel emerged from the shadows, holding a stick with leaves still attached, and joined him. He wasn't as quick or smooth in his movements as Fenris, and he fell often if the move was overly complicated, but the boy was stubborn. This wasn't the first time he had joined Fenris in practice, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

With a small smile, Fenris continued his routine, not really bothered by his little shadow, and slowing down a little so the boy could keep up.

Even though the newest edition to their family was quiet and serious, it did not mean he was completely trouble free.

There had been many a night where Fenris had woken up because of the feeling of someone watching him, only to find the boy at the end of his bed, eyes wide in terror.

He looked around the room cautiously. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, trying not to disturb Hawke.

"Bad dream."

Fenris considered him for a moment before sighing, and scooting closer to Hawke. "Hop in."

Raziel did so silently, and Fenris fought against a sigh as the boy snuggled against his side. He normally wasn't one to cuddle…but it's not like the boy would tell anyone. And he was usually gone before they woke in the morning, so Hawke definitely wouldn't know.

It was for his benefit that Hawke always played possum in these situations. When Fenris wasn't within earshot, he would reflect on the utter cute, and giggle shamelessly.

"Daddy, sit up straight! It's not polite."

"Sorry sugar," Hawke said, straightening up and sipping his empty cup lightly.

"Papa," Chantima says with a smile to the grumpy elf. "Miss Clarabelle wants you to please pass the cookies."

Wordlessly, Fenris passes the plate of cookies to his daughter, and nibbles on one of the ones on his plate.

He had brought down blood mages, abominations, giant spiders, mad Templar leaders, Danarius, DRAGONS…and he was now reduced to play tea time with his daughter and her stuffed dolls.

Well, it could be worse. She hadn't tried to get him to wear the pink fluffy apron that Hawke was wearing.

Fenris felt his world tremble when Chantima is six, and accidently sets a tree on fire.

"Hawke," he growled later that night. The children had been put to bed, and it was just he and Hawke. "This is serious. She lit a tree on fire. She is only a child, she can't be expected to handle her emotions tightly enough to keep her magic in check."

"Isn't this the part where you say 'I told you so'?" Hawke grumbled, stalking in front of the fireplace. "I had hoped, even from being from Tevinter, she might…"

"Might what? Be normal?"

"You must have hoped for that as well," Hawke pointed out softly. "You seem very distressed, Fenris."

"Of course I am," the elf snapped. "Two Templars regularly make stops here, and my daughter made a tree explode. I don't want them to take her away from us. She is our daughter, and I won't see her locked away in a tower like some silly maiden from the stories."

"Even at the expense of her safety, the safety of our family, the safety of the townspeople?" Hawke queried gently.

Fenris let lose a snarl of Arcanum before bringing himself under control again. "If your father could do it with two mages in the family, I don't see why you can't with one in ours."

Hawke was beaming at him, and while Fenris didn't fully relax when the mage kissed him, he did at least feel better.

They would be fine. No one had seen the tree, no one was banging down their door, and Hawke would teach her to control it. It would be fine.

Hawke turns out to be a good teacher in not only reading lessons, but in magic as well. Their daughter quickly learns (for a mage, Hawke tells Fenris) how to control her emotions. By the age of eight, she can summon ice or fire on command. Hawke is ridiculously proud of this, saying that she truly is their daughter.

Of course, when she freezes his beard solid when he grounds her to the house after straying from the yard, she becomes Fenris' daughter, and would he please support Hawke in these things?

"You knew what we were getting into," Fenris said, amused as Hawke tried to thaw his beard out. "Don't tell me you were the perfect pupil under your father."

"I never did anything to his beard," Hawke groused. "I always took my frustrations out on Carver. Why can't Chantima do that with Raziel?"

"Because Chantima is too sweet, and Raziel too smart," Fenris replied. "He knows the danger of angering a mage."

"Eh, makes him more your son then than mine," Hawke grumbled, running his hands through his beard, looking for any remaining ice particles.

"He's both of ours," Fenris says. "He just takes after me more," he adds, a note of preening in his voice.

"Yes he does. Broody, quiet, and delightfully elvish."

"Oh look, your daughter froze your beard. Obviously she takes after you."

Hawke brightened. "Yes she does, doesn't she? Cheerful, funny-"

"Likes to use her magic on others when she gets upset," Fenris interjected dryly.

Hawke pouts at him for the rest of the night.

Honestly, Fenris thought, Merrill had it only half right. Fenris wasn't the only one with the puppy eyes.

Raziel goes to school with the other children while Chantima is left at home under Hawke's tutelage. He and Fenris eventually agree to let her go to the village school when she is ten, so long as Raziel is there to keep an eye on her. A little socializing never hurt anyone, Hawke reasoned, and it would do her good to get out of the house.

The pair return home earlier than expected, with Chantima wailing about everything being her fault, and Raziel limping silently behind her.

Hawke works on calming Chantima, and Fenris takes care of Raziel's wounds.

"Did you fight?" he asked quietly.

The boy nodded.

"Who?"

"The Baker twins," he replied, just as quiet. "Called her…things I didn't like. Wanted to take her behind their barn and do…nasty things to her."

Fenris stilled, gaze sharpening. "What things?"

When Raziel finally told him, Fenris silently stood, grabbed his broadsword, and left the house, ignoring Hawke's confused calls.

He found the two boys at their home, working on chopping wood.

He did not take his sword from his back. He did not even look at them fully. He simply allowed himself to glow, and when they had not run or spoken, he said, quietly:

"If you ever threaten my daughter or touch my son again, there will not be enough pieces left of either of you for your father to put back together. Even dead, I would find you in the Fade, and rip you apart again and again."

Satisfied by their terrified gazes, he turned, and then paused.

"Oh, and if I hear even a whisper of either of you forcing anyone to do anything behind your barn, I'll be back."

From that point on, Raziel and Chantima were fully home schooled.

Of course, they still had to interact with the townspeople, and Silas and his wife Sophie were constant figures in their lives. Though they had their own litter to worry about (seriously, Fenris wasn't sure how many children the couple had. He lost count after twelve) they never hesitated to take Chantima and Raziel when Hawke asked.

He and Hawke occasionally had to leave home, whether to defend the village against monsters, abominations, or bandits. And they had always left their two children with Silas.

Even so, Fenris' hackles rose when Chantima brought a friend home.

"Otto," she said. "This is Daddy," she waved towards a friendly looking Hawke. "And this is Papa."

Fenris deigned to look down at the whelp his daughter had brought home for dinner, and his lip curled.

"Sers," Otto stammered, backing up a step or two under Fenris' gaze. Satisfied by his response, Fenris went back to sharpening his broadsword.

"Fenris, can't you do that somewhere else besides the table?" Hawke groused.

Fenris looked back up at Otto, the boy's eyes catching his before quickly looking down at the stone the elf was using. Fenris gave a particularly hard grind on his sword, feeling pleased when the boy winced at the sound.

"I think I've made my point," he drawled, leaving the table.

Mission a success then, he smirked later that night when Otto left in a hurry, babbling about getting home before dark. Chantima was confused, but accepted readily enough, waving goodbye to boy as he hurried off.

"Fenris."

"Hawke."

"He was barely a lad of thirteen," Hawke said, laughter evident in his voice. "She's, what, twelve? She's curious, but she's not interested in quite the way she will be later. They are just friends."

"I know," Fenris said. "I considered him practice for later, when it gets more serious."

"You're so adorable when you get clingy and possessive," Hawke crooned in his ear, making Fenris shiver and chuckle.

"Perhaps I could show you just how clingy I can really be."

"Barn?" Hawke asked, drawing away and waggling his eyebrows.

Fenris glanced at the house; Chantima was chattering happily with Raziel, who had taken up Fenris' sword and was polishing it.

"Barn. And for Andraste's sake, please close the doors this time."

It's not long after Chantima brought Otto home that Raziel followed Hawke and Fenris on one of their adventures. After trying to leave him at Silas' house, the boy had simply followed after them silently. No words or promises of punishment would dissuade him, so they took him along reluctantly.

"Here," Hawke sighed, handing over his dagger. "Not what you're used to, but it's better than nothing."

Luck was with them, however. The bandits were cowardly, and Hawke merciful, and a fight was avoided. Raziel, as usual, did not say much as they headed home.

"Hawke," Fenris finally said, resigned. "Go on ahead. I want to have a talk with our son." It wasn't that Hawke did not love and care for Raziel as he did Chantima; it was just that, for whatever reason, Raziel responded better to Fenris than Hawke. Perhaps it was because they were similar, or perhaps it was because it was Fenris who had saved the boy all those years ago. Whatever the reason, Hawke knows this, and is not offended.

The mage nodded, and disappeared down the path.

Fenris looked over his boy for a long moment. The small child that had survived the slaughtered caravan had grown in the years he had spent in their home. He was tall for an elf, almost as tall as Fenris, and while he possessed the gangly form that was natural for teenagers, he could whirl Fenris' broadsword like it was a matchstick. He had let his hair grow longer, and had gotten into the habit of pulling it back in a pony tail.

"Why did you insist on coming along with us today?" he finally asked.

"I am no longer a child," Raziel answered.

Fenris smiled slightly. "I can see that. It seems like only yesterday you were following in my shadow, playing at being a warrior with only bare feet and a stick."

"Father, I still do that," Raziel said dryly.

"Yes, but you were much smaller. And not as thin," he added with a slight frown. "We'll have to feed you more."

Raziel didn't reply to that, and Fenris had not expected him to. "Raziel," he finally sighed. "What is it that drives you? What inspires you?"

The boy frowned up at him, looking confused. "You do, Father."

Fenris was glad Hawke was not here; he'd never hear the end of it if that annoying man saw him hugging their son like he was a stuffed doll.

Raziel was stiff, but unmoving in his arms, and Fenris quickly let him go with an embarrassed cough. "I apologize," he offered. "That was-"

"Father, it's alright." Raziel offered him a tiny smile. "Where were you going with that?"

Fenris cleared his throat, determined to see this out. "What do you want to do with yourself, son?"

"I want to protect others," Raziel said softly. "Like you protect Dad, and like when you protected me."

"Then we will prepare you," Fenris replied. "Come, before your Dad blows something up from boredom."

"Or Chantima sets his beard on fire again," Raziel added helpfully.

"I didn't mind that. It was funny."

"You are a cruel, twisted man, Father."

"Never claimed to be otherwise."

"Oh, then I should mention that hug you gave me to Dad?"

Fenris looked down at his son, a playful look on his face. "There was no hugging," he droned, watching Raziel smirk. "We will never speak of this again."

Of course, by the time he and Hawke crawl into their bed that night, Raziel has somehow already told him, and the mage feels the need to get all touchy and cuddly. Fenris growled and snapped at him, but they both knew it was just a token effort on his part.

It takes some time, but eventually Fenris and Hawke have pooled enough money to get what was needed.

Raziel stared down at the gift his parents had given him, eyes wide. "I…I don't…" he stuttered, looking up at both men who were beaming at him. "Thank you," he finally whispered, running his hands along the seams, fingers dancing lightly on the metal.

"You'll have to work your way up to it," Hawke says. "Wear it around the house and such, but you'll get used to it."

"Does this mean we'll spar?" Raziel said, looking at Fenris excitedly.

"Yes," Fenris said. "All four of us."

Raziel blinked. "Four of us?"

Fenris was fighting against laughing as he watched his son whirl and tumble away from his Dad and sister, twin fireballs wrapping together to form a comet of flame that incinerated a tree, but missed the boy. Using the distraction, he glowed blue, and charged his son.

"Venhedis!" Raziel snarled.

"Watch your mouth," Fenris intoned, swinging his sword.

"Like you watch yours?" Raziel retorted, finally toppling and landing on the ground in a heap.

"Keep that up and you're grounded."

Raziel fumed on the ground for a moment before leaping up with a yelp. He glared at Chantima, who was whistling innocently. "Sister."

"Oh, was that me? Sorry, brother dear," she chuckled. A patch of ice is where Raziel's rump was not that long ago.

"Behave, sugar," Hawke said fondly.

"Yes Daddy."

Hawke and Fenris had both agreed a long time ago about the talking down they would give to the man who won the heart of their princess, of the threats they would make and the spies they would employ. After all, she was the social butterfly of the family, despite her constrained lifestyle. Despite being a mage, she was adept at hiding it, and was trusted to make trips to the village to pick up supplies, and of course, interact with other young people her age. She took after Hawke in that she could sweet talk almost anyone into doing whatever she wished. She was quick to show affection in public, quick to touch, quick to hug and hold someone's hand.

Raziel had always been the quiet one, following more in Fenris' footsteps than anything. He didn't shun others, but he didn't seek them out either. He had always been a protective, quiet shadow that followed his baby sister around, and had extracted her from several distasteful situations. He seemed to tolerate touch, but did not seek it or instigate it save for rare occasions at home, in private. Hawke and Fenris had agreed that he would grow to be a heartbreaker, and that the village girls would soon start swooning as he passed by, but thought they could wait a while to give him a proper talking to on relationships with girls, and the proper precautions that would be needed. He had shown no interest in such things, after all.

So it was a bit of a shock one evening to find their son out with another boy behind the barn.

"What were you thinking?"

Amazingly, it's Hawke who is losing his temper. Fenris is just standing in the doorway, arms over his chest as he watched his son, seated before the mage, still shirtless and covered in…marks.

Raziel glared up at Hawke, and didn't answer.

"Raziel," Fenris rumbled. "How long has this been going on?"

"It hasn't, Father," Raziel finally mumbled. "That was the first we've ever done more than kiss."

"How long have you known him?" Hawke asked.

"Since we were small. He travels a lot with his dad, so he's not always here, but they have a routine, and they always stop here."

"What does his father do for a living?"

Raziel actually fidgeted. "I…I don't know. He never offered to tell me, so I never asked."

Hawke sighs, rubbing his temples. "Raziel, what would you have done if your sister found you?"

Raziel offered a slight smile. "Told her to get lost and carry on."

"Raziel, there are…things you must understand," Hawke said, starting to pace back and forth. "I know it might be a little late, but-"

"Maker's breath, you're not about to give me The Talk are you?" Raziel asked, looking petrified at the very thought.

"If you're old enough to do…what you were doing, then you're old enough for the talk," Hawke replied. "Now, when two people love each other very much, and want to express that love-"

"I can't believe this," Raziel muttered, slouching further in his chair.

"-they sign a bunch of papers, get a health check up to make sure they're not disease ridden, and introduce each other to their respective families," Hawke continued sternly. "Then they start a courtship, get engaged, and then, only then, can they move on to more…carnal things. Fenris, add what you think is appropriate."

"No more hanky-panky behind or in the barn," the elf said. "If you must get your rocks off-"

"Fenris!"

"-then I would suggest somewhere private, where no one will stumble on you," he finished, giving Hawke a look. "Hawke, he's going to do as he pleases."

"We can't just give him free reign and tell him to go crazy!"

"Um, Dad?"

Hawke turned back to a thoughtful Raziel. "Yes son?"

"You said engagement before carnal relations, right?"

Hawke was smiling now. "Yes, that's right."

Raziel dug through his pocket and pulled out a silver ring. "So I'm well within the rights you've set me," he said slowly, not looking at either of them, eyes only on the ring.

Again, Hawke was the one who lost his temper first.

"WHAT?"

Three hours of yelling later, and Hawke was down for the count.

"Where did we go wrong, Fenris?" he groaned into the mattress. Raziel had stormed out to the barn and had not returned, while Chantima, sensing the tension in the family, had retreated to her room.

Fenris was beside him, running his hands through Hawke's hair. He noted idly that there were a few silver strands in his otherwise black hair. "We did nothing wrong Hawke," he said after a moment. "Raziel is full grown almost. He can make his own decisions."

"But he's OUR SON," Hawke wailed. "What if that other boy just wants a booty call? What if he hurts him? What if-"

"What if our son leaves us for his beau," Fenris interjected gently.

Hawke let out a whimper, burrowing deeper into the covers. "Fenris, I don't want to lose him. He's as much ours as Chantima. He's…he's family."

Ah. Hawke had lost all of his family; first his father, quickly followed by his sister. He had lost Carver to the Grey Wardens, a death sentence that might take years to be carried out, and had lost his mother to blood magic. His reaction to the prospect of Raziel leaving made a little more sense now.

"He will continue to be family Hawke," Fenris intoned gently. "Our family won't shrink. You won't lose him. He'll still be our son, and we'll actually gain another family member. That's not so bad, is it?"

"No," Hawke sniffed. "I…I guess not, if the other boy is serious…"

"Then we will meet the boy, and his mysterious father," Fenris soothed. He kissed the back of Hawke's neck, earning an interested noise for his troubles. "I'll be back," he promised. "I'll go check on the boy."

Fenris found Raziel furiously brushing one of their cows. The single calf from years ago had grown to five cows and one bull. Raziel was just working some of his frustration, Fenris knew; after all, cows normally didn't need to be brushed.

"Raziel."

The boy turned, ears lowered and eyes worried. "Father."

"You will invite the boy and his father to dinner," Fenris said, watching his son's face lift as he continued speaking. "Your Dad is…distraught because he worries, and he doesn't want to lose you like he's lost other members of his family. Do you understand?"

Raziel nodded.

"Good. Now, you should get to bed."

Fenris watched his son go, a slight smile on his face. He sighed, turning to the cow before him. "I don't suppose you know what it's like to watch your child leave you?"

The cow mooed loudly.

"I'll take that as a yes," Fenris sighed.

Chantima seemed to be the only one who wasn't in some way nervous about meeting her brother's suitor.

"Honestly Papa, quit pacing. You'll wear a hole in the floor, and Daddy will trip on it," she teased, setting the table while Hawke and Raziel both stood guard at the doorway.

"Would you rather I get my sword out and sharpen it? I'm sure that will make the boy feel right at home," Fenris grumped.

Chantima turned to him, lyrium blue eyes dancing beneath her messy black hair. "I'm honestly surprised you haven't done that. You're getting soft."

"I am not soft."

"I can attest to that," Hawke called back.

"Hawke!"

"Please, calm down," Raziel begged. "He's already nervous about this as it is."

"As he should be," Fenris growled. "He's not a complete idiot then."

"Father," Raziel said warningly. "Please…"

"Bah. Fine."

The boy showed up on time, and while he shuffled nervously under the twin gaze of Fenris and Hawke, he seemed to relax at the sight of Raziel. "You look rav-er, nice," he amended, glancing at a glowering Hawke.

"Thank you," Raziel replied softly, drawing the boy inside. He glanced outside with a slight frown. "Where's your father?"

"He apologizes for being late," the boy offered the two adults. "He has some business to finish up in town, and then he'll be along shortly. I'm Tamlen."

Chantima chose that moment to take over things, introducing herself, her two fathers, and encouraging the boy to make himself at home.

It…went better than Fenris had thought it would, he admitted later. The boy, though still obviously nervous, did not mind answering questions. He traveled with his father, helping the man with business and was learning to wield dual daggers. He stated that their home was in Amaranthine, near Vigil's Keep, and yes, he was serious about courting Raziel.

Their interrogation was interrupted by a series of sharp raps on the door, and Hawke answered the door.

"Greetings from Antiva," an all-too-familiar voice greeted. "I'm here to help celebrate our two boys…oh, well, hello again, Champion."

Fenris was at the door and trying to strangle Zevran before he knew what he was doing.

The night wasn't a complete debacle. Hawke had held Fenris back from the Antivan man, who had spent the time Hawke was wrestling with Fenris to comment on finesse and how they had both aged nicely. "To be honest, I wouldn't say no to some alone time," he grinned.

"I'll give you some alone time with me," Fenris said lightly. "And my sword. All those things you want me to do to you with my appendage? That's what my sword would be for."

"Oh, you kinky bastard you," Zevran laughed.

"Father," Raziel sighed, head in hand. "Will you please let him come in? And stop embarrassing me?"

After that, things had settled down rather quickly. They had a simple but filling meal, were caught up on Zevran's current plans, and found out exactly what had happened with him and his Warden.

"You see, she was convinced that Grey Wardens couldn't have children," Zevran explained as the three men watched their boys sit in front of the fire, watching Chantima practice her spells.

"I thought their power made them all but barren," Hawke said.

"We thought as much as well," Zevran nodded, a warm smile lighting his face. "I get back from that debacle with the Chantry, spend months chasing your friend Anders with my Warden, and I find out mi amore has a little bun in the oven when we finally get back to the Keep. Trust me, she was surprised just as much as I."

"Were you excited?" Fenris asked, truly curious despite himself. The man struck him as flighty, easily frightened by any sense of responsibility.

"I was frightened, once we knew what it was," Zevran admitted. "But, mi amore is a strong woman, and she had me convinced and eager by the time Tamlen entered the world." He glanced towards the group at the fireplace, a sad smile lighting up his features. "And now he is to be married off. I'm torn between pride and disappointment."

"Oh, is our son not good enough for yours then?" Fenris asked accusingly.

"I had rather hoped he would take after my roguish ways," Zevran said, unashamed. "You know, go out and sow a few wild oats before settling down with a nice Dalish girl. It worked for me," he shrugged. "But…he takes after his mother more, I think. He wants a serious relationship, and he's willing to wait for it. I'm rather proud of him for that."

"So do you know what their plans are?" Hawke asked.

Zevran nodded. "Si. Tamlen wants to follow his mother's tradition and marry in the spring, probably a few years from now. They're still deciding where they want to go after that. I know your boy is interested in the military, and I get the feeling that wherever he will go, Tamlen will be close behind."

"So we still have time with him before he leaves," Hawke said quietly.

Zevran offered the man a sympathetic look. "Champion," he said, rather gently. "If they do settle in Amaranthine, it's not that far away. They would have employment, mi amore to watch over them, and each other. They are truly lucky to have that much."

Despite himself, Fenris agreed with Zevran.

It was a little sad, to see their little family might separate, but it was natural, he supposed. A boy couldn't be a boy for the rest of his life, and it was only a matter of time before Chantima left as well.

He looked at Hawke, but the man only had eyes for his two children, still looking like his dog had died.

After Zevran and Tamlen leave, and after Raziel and Chantima retire for the night, Fenris curled around Hawke on their bed, running a hand soothingly through his hair and whispering sweet, soft endearments in his ear. And the former Champion of Kirkwall sniffled into the bedding, accepting Fenris' odd affections, and whispered his worries, only the bed and Fenris close enough to hear them.

The next morning, Hawke was considerably better, and Fenris relaxed once more.

Serendipity was a strange thing that was constant in his life with Hawke, Fenris thought. Until he had met the easy going man, he rarely ran into people he had met before (unless they were actively hunting him).

Yet here it was again that he was meeting with someone he already knew.

Sort of.

The eyes were the same, and the hair was the same eyesore shade of ginger. He even wore similar armor, and favored the sword and shield school of martial might.

He just hoped for the boy's sake that he had inherited his mother's steel resolve and thirst for law and order, otherwise he would gut the man-child himself.

"Azim Vallen," Fenris said lightly.

They are both outside the house, Hawke and Chantima inside cleaning up after dinner, and Raziel off in the village to visit his fiancé. It's a rather nice night out, and under the pretense of enjoying the fresh air, Fenris has dragged the boy outside. To talk. About his daughter. And the boy.

Maker, if he was ten years younger, he'd already be thrashing this upstart puppy.

"Ser Fenris," the boy returned politely, if in a clipped tone.

"So I'm to understand that you have designs on my daughter."

"I assure you sir," the boy replied coolly. "That my intentions are entirely honorable."

"Don't give me that shit," Fenris grunted. "I was your age once." He just didn't really remember it all that clearly.

"I remember what it was like. Honorable intentions my foot."

"I find her entertaining, fun, and a stout honorable woman," the boy droned. "If she will have me, then I would only be too happy to welcome her with open arms."

"Listen to me," Fenris snarled. He pointed at the house, green eyes shining brightly with protective instinct. "Inside that house is my only daughter, my first child, the one I raised from an infant. I have changed her nappies, I have fed her, clothed her, frightened away her nightmares, and have bent over backwards and into knots to make sure she is protected and happy. If you so much as hurt a hair on her head or make her cry, I will use your guts for garters, your heart for a paperweight, your liver for a wine skin, and your skull for a chamber pot. Do I make myself clear, boy?"

"Mother spoke of you sometimes, sir," Azim said lightly. "She always said you were a prickly little bugger, but I think she failed to really grasp how much of an angry little bastard you really are."

Fenris snorted. "That does sound like Aveline. I trust she is well?"

Azim nodded. "Aye. She's not as fast as she used to be, but she can still knock a group of men over if she has a large enough running start. The men fondly call her 'Old Grey'."

"It's nice to know some things never change," Fenris mused.

"Hawke…"

"Fenris," the mage breathed, nuzzling the elf's throat.

"Hawke, we-"

"I think I want to talk dirty to you today," Hawke mused, pressing Fenris against the wall harder. "Haven't done it in a while, and when I do do it, you go really wild and-"

"Hawke," Fenris hissed, grabbing the man's jaw with one hand. "Don't you think we should save this for after our son's wedding?"

Hawke appeared to think about this conundrum for a moment before nodding. "Yes. We should definitely keep going."

There was a loud banging on the closet door, and both men jumped.

Raziel's voice drifted through. "If you two aren't out here in two minutes, Tamlen and I will run away and elope where you would never find us. Oh, and I'll tell Aunt Isabella where you two are so she can join in."

Two minutes later, Raziel and Tamlen were exchanging vows before a Dalish Keeper in front of friends, extended family, Wardens, Royalty, odd creatures, and both Fenris and Hawke. Once the Keeper presented the new couple to everyone, the fun really began.

Aveline was there, chatting quietly now with Chantima and her son. Donnic was over by the keg, exchanging stories with a dwarf Warden by the name of Oghren. Isabella was flirting shamelessly with both Zevran and his wife, the Hero of Fereldan. She eventually coaxed the Dalish Warden to dance with her, and even Hawke admitted it was a rather tantalizing sight. Merrill had shown up as well, not long after the Starkhaven Prince himself, and those two were currently dancing to the music, Sebastian teaching the elf a particular jig, and Merrill laughing with delight. The bard Lelianna was telling a story to a captivated Varric, while an elderly mage by the name of Wynne was darning someone's socks while chatting happily with Carver and a stone golem that had put in white crystals for the special occasion. King Alistair was laughing with Hawke, and there went Tamlen and Raziel, sneaking away from the party to be by themselves.

Fenris watched the merry making with a small smile. It was better than what he could have ever hoped for.

"Copper for your thoughts?"

Hawke was next to him, quietly watching the festivities as well now that the King had wandered over to the table laden with different cheeses.

"It's just nice to be celebrating with…almost everyone," Fenris said quietly.

"I still wish Anders could have made it," Hawke sighed.

"That Abomination isn't as stupid as you would have him be," Fenris said shortly. "I'm amazed Sebastian showed up, after you let Anders go all those years ago."

Hawke rubbed the back of his graying head sheepishly. "I figured he had had time to cool down, and Isabella told me that anyone of true Starkhaven blood would never turn down an invitation for merriment and alcohol if they could help it."

"Speaking of Isabella, where is that disease ridden minx?" Fenris asked, suddenly realizing she was missing.

"Speak of the devil, and I shall appear, sweet thing," a low voice purred in his ear.

"Isabella, if I wasn't in such a good mood, your heart would be in my hand right now," Fenris growled.

"I think Hawke would object to you stealing someone else's heart," the pirate chuckled. She had aged nicely, Fenris thought, the only sign of her added years being several streaks of silver in her once dark hair.

"Only if he didn't want to share," Hawke offered. "If he would share, I wouldn't mind."

"Oh, so we have potential then?" another voice joined in.

Fenris whirled, and was face to face with Zevran, who was leering at him.

"Maker damn you rogues," Fenris growled, retreating back towards Hawke without another thought. An arm encircled his waist, reassuring and warm.

"Now, let me make a proposal of sorts," Zevran continued, unfazed. "You two gentlemen are both wonderful specimens of male virility in later years. Isabella is truly radiant and confident in her appearance and feelings, while I myself am still, after all these years, myself. Now, let's say if all four of us were to…really get to know each other better, in private? Eh? What do you say? Let's not keep our sons lonely in the woods back there," he added with a laugh.

"You couldn't get me drunk enough," Fenris snapped.

Isabella glanced at Zevran, and then looked back at Fenris with a cocked eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

Fenris, aware that Hawke seemed very interested in what he said, answered. "Yes."

Fenris awoke the next day with a hangover from hell, naked, and wrapped around a body that was equally entangled in his. They were in a tent, still in the forest where the wedding had taken place.

Oh, no, he thought with growing dread. Who had…?

"Fenris, next time you challenge Isabella to get you drunk, I'm on top. You have the stamina of five men," a familiar voice groaned.

Fenris let out his breath that he had been holding, and collapsed back on top of Hawke, ignoring the man's half-hearted protests.

Nary a year later, and Chantima married as well. Azim, being the son of Aveline, had formally announced their engagement to both Hawke and Fenris several months beforehand, and had asked for their blessing. They had given it, and it was with both sadness and pride that both of them walked her down the aisle and gave her to the son of their friend.

That year was fraught with news, both good and bad. Tamlen's mother, the Hero of Fereldan, received her Calling, and after a small, intimate farewell party, departed for Orzammar, Zevran in tow. Neither were heard from again, and the Wardens and the Hawke family mourned.

Anders had stumbled upon the pair as well, and despite Fenris' aggression, had stayed on a few days to rest, and to catch up on news. When he was leaving, Hawke had asked him where he was headed. The Abomination that had been the bane of Fenris' existence gave the man he had admitted to loving, unrequited, a sad look. "I've heard my Calling," Anders whispered. "I'm on my way to Orzammar." Then, to the shock of both men, had leaned in and kissed Hawke.

Fenris had made his palms bleed, his hands clenched so tight as he imagined wrapping his fingers around the Abomination's throat- but he stood still, letting Hawke deal with this.

His mage ended the kiss gently, pulling away from Anders with a sad, sad smile.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you," Anders said, hand trailing the grey beard Hawke now sported. "But…it had to be done. And now I'm off to pay the price, hopefully take a few Darkspawn with me, and release Justice when I die. It's…past time, I think."

That night after Anders left, Fenris had comforted Hawke as best as he could, whispering tenderly in the man's ear, offering kisses, and letting Hawke do what he wanted; kisses, hugs, and the occasional shift of skin on skin made for a sleepless night.

"You loved him," Fenris said the next morning, curled up against the other man. "Why didn't you go to him?"

"Because he wasn't you," Hawke said shortly, and that was the end of that.

Later that spring, they both learned they were going to be grandparents. Chantima had convinced Azim to move them closer to her childhood home, and later that year, Fenris was once again confronted with having to deal with diapers and burping small bundles.

Raziel and Tamlen were doing well for themselves in Amaranthine. They had taken in an orphaned human boy named Uriel, and were building their lives quickly. Tamlen had indeed followed Raziel into the guard at Amaranthine, and now both were under the command of Aveline, who had transferred there so she could be closer to the whole family.

The house was emptier, but Fenris was content; he had family close by, and he had Hawke. He couldn't, and wouldn't, ask for anything more.

Besides, he mused, watching his grandchildren play in the yard, the newest generation of Hawke's were quite the handful. He would enjoy the peace while he could.

END

Bonus 1:

Chantima stared up at Papa and Daddy as the pair argued over-head; Daddy was pleading, making soothing sounds and gestures, while Papa was angry, voice low and actions fierce and sharp.

She continued to watch, entranced, as they both quieted, glared at the other, and then held out their closed fists, shook twice, and their hands morphed into strange symbols. They repeated this three times before Papa snarled something nasty, and Chantima let out a happy burble as he proceeded to then change her diaper.

Bonus 2:

"Daddy, where do babies come from?"

Six year old Chantima stared up at her Daddy, trusting that he would know the answer to her burning question, and that he would tell her and that it would all make sense, and then she could continue on her merry way and go outside and play Guards and Bandits with Razi.

She frowned in confusion when her brave, valiant Daddy choked on his water, and Papa had to give him a few whacks on the back to help him breathe again.

"Erm, ah, well sweetheart, you see, when…aren't you going outside to play?"

She pouted up at him, and crossed her arms across her chest like Papa did when he was serious and not going to be told to do something else than what he wanted.

Daddy wiggled in his seat, looking over at Papa, who nodded and motioned to continue.

"Well, sweetheart, when a man and a woman really, really love each other-"

"What about a man and man?" she asked, eyes wide. "You two had me, right?"

"We'll get to that in a minute, sweetie, but we need to cover the basics first. See, when a man and woman really, really love each other, they'll kiss. And the Maker will see them kiss, and tell the stork, and the stork will visit them nine months later with a pearl in his beak, which he places under the pillow. The next morning, the pearl has grown into a baby, and that's how babies are made. It's the same for two men, or two women, it just might take a little longer is all."

Chantima considered this for a moment, then nodded, grinning. "Okay!"

Hawke watched her skip outside, only turning to regard Fenris when the former slave starts outright laughing at him.

"What? What's so funny?"

"A stork? Kissing? A pearl?" Fenris was as close to howling with laughter as Hawke had ever seen him. "Hawke, you don't really think she'll believe that?"

"Well, if she does, she'll never want to kiss any boys, which would solve everything," Hawke said slyly.

Two days later, Chantima finds Papa alone in the house, and confronts him.

"Papa, where do babies really come from?"

Undaunted, Fenris proceeded to tell her.

That night, both Hawke and Fenris were awakened from sleep by Chantima screaming and diving into bed with them, which was already crowded due to Raziel having been there as well.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Hawke asked. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"Yes!" Chantima wailed. "Why would boys do that with their peepees?"

Fenris was in the doghouse for weeks after that, and had to eat fish for dinner every night for two weeks before Hawke finally had mercy on him.

Bonus 3:

It was a simple and uncontested fact that Raziel easily followed in Father's footsteps more than Dad's. He followed the older elf around, mimicked his movements when he practiced his sword work, and when confronted with new or strange situations, looked to him for guidance.

So Dad was both surprised and delighted when the boy came to him when he was eight, and quietly asked for help on something he couldn't do alone, and needed guidance for.

"Now, repeat the rules," Dad said sternly, arms crossed as he considered his son.

"Don't back down," Raziel said.

"Good. And?"

"Never look away."

"Excellent. And?"

"Always wash my hands first."

"Bravo. Now, let's get started."

And from that day forward, it was a simple and uncontested fact that Raziel, on occasion, would make cookies for both his Father and Dad.

AN: And that's it. It's a bit rough, but I am fond of it. Hopefully you enjoyed reading this.