[ Master Post ]
Title: Rhapsody In Ass Major – Chapter 131
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters: Anton Hawke ♂, Cullen ♂, Artemis Hawke ♂, Fenris ♂, Cormac Hawke ♂
Rating: T (L2 N0 S0 V0 D0)
Warnings: Some misunderstandings and a dildo
Notes: An assortment of family moments.
"Now, what’s with that look? Is Meredith promoting another questionable case?"
Cullen looked up to see Anton leaning in the doorway of his office, cool, collected, typical Anton. He sighed and looked back down at the paper in front of him, tilting his hands off it, as he opened and closed his mouth, shaking his head. Another sigh, and then he spoke. "I don’t know what to do. Come in. Close the door." He paused. "And don’t talk about the Knight-Commander like that, when you’re half in the hall."
Anton’s eyes widened as he leaned away from the door frame, tossing the door closed behind him, as he stepped into the room. "With the door closed? Must be serious. What’s wrong?"
"We’re getting married, Anton." Cullen looked up, pleadingly. "No, that’s what’s right. I… My family. I want my family to be there."
Anton looked completely confused, as he leaned over Cullen’s desk, hands on either side of what he could now see was a blank page. "Of course you do."
"I haven’t talked to them since before the blight. Anton, I don’t know if I have a family any more. If I go looking, I’ll know." Cullen stared into Anton’s eyes, with the expectation he’d understand. He had to understand.
And Anton did. He’d left Lothering and never looked back, but that meant not knowing, not knowing what had happened to his friends, to his home, to the brothel where he used to play cards or to the serving girl he used to flirt with. The difference was that he assumed they were gone; Cullen hoped his family was alive.
Anton walked around the desk, laid a hand on the inside of Cullen’s elbow, thumb stroking between plates of armour. A part of him wanted to tell Cullen to cut his losses, to not go looking, but he also couldn’t imagine not knowing what had happened to his family. "You’re already agonising over it," he said gently. "Better to know one way or another. And if your family is alive and you got married without inviting them, I have a feeling your sister would walk to Kirkwall just to punch you. That’s what I’m assuming, anyway, based on what you’ve told me."
Cullen ducked his head, and his small smile said Anton was not far off. "She probably would, if she found out." Maker, but he missed Mia. She and Anton would be a deadly combination. The thought that she might have — no, he had to stop thinking like this. "I just… I don’t know where to start." He gestured helplessly at the blank paper, voice catching.
"Who would know where they are?" Anton asked, pushing a stack of paper out of the way to sit on the edge of the desk. "Where were they, the last time you knew where they were?"
"Honnleath. They were in Honnleath. It’s so far south—" Cullen choked up, fingers digging into Anton’s knee.
"We know someone who was in Honnleath, since the Blight, you know. She’s not really happy with either of us, but I bet if Artie asked, she’d help." Anton grinned. "I’d ask, but … I don’t really need to make this situation any worse."
"Shale!?" Cullen squeaked, terror flashing across his face. "You want to ask the golem that you peed on if my family’s all right?"
"If anyone would know, she would, right? She was there. And, honestly, that probably means Solona was there, too." Anton rubbed his chin, contemplatively. "Maybe we should ask Solona, first. I think that would end in less death threats."
"S… Solona." Yes, he supposed that made sense. The thought of her being there at the time of the Blight made him feel better. If anyone could have saved his family, it was the Hero of Ferelden. Except… no, that was getting his hopes up. Hope for the best but assume the worst, that’s what his mother always said. "She would know, wouldn’t she? Well. She’d know more than I do, anyway. Worst case, she knows nothing and then we’ll ask Shale." He nodded, scooting closer to the desk. He still wasn’t sure what to say, but at least he knew whom to address it to.
"Do you have another piece of paper and a spare quill?" Anton asked, sliding off of the desk.
"I… sure." Cullen fished out another blank sheet and a second quill, his brows furrowed in a question.
"You write to Solona," Anton told him. "I’ll write to Shale. By which I mean Artie will write to Shale." He offered Cullen a wicked smile and dipped his quill in ink.
It was by chance that Fenris found the black dildo still sitting in the drawer of the nightstand. He pulled it out and turned it over in his hands, considering it. Probably meant to be human, by the size and balance of it. No elf he knew would be quite that thick. Human knobs had always struck him as being clumsy and ill-balanced. Still, he’d come to appreciate one.
"Didn’t you borrow this?" he called across the room, to where Artemis was doing unspeakable things to the dressing room, again. Sorting by colour or length or whatever it was, this week. Fenris wore black. His clothes were easy. "Or did you just tell me that so I wouldn’t know you’d bought something you weren’t sure would work?"
Artemis twisted to look over his shoulder, hands folding a pair of socks. "Oh! That." His eyes widened. "I completely forgot about that. Maker. Cormac will never let me borrow anything again."
"Cormac?" Fenris said sharply, promptly dropping the dildo, letting it thud back into the drawer. Artie winced. He’d forgotten that was something he hadn’t planned on mentioning. "This is from Cormac? This has been in… fasta vass!"
"Well, I said it was borrowed," Artemis said, shrugging. He set down the socks and approached the drawer and twitching elf. "Who did you think it was from?"
And, all right, that was a fair guess. Artie didn’t know how her… toy collection compared to his brother’s, but he was sure it was extensive. He fished the dildo out of the drawer. "Well, it wasn’t. Don’t worry, Cormac cleaned it. And I cleaned it. Thoroughly." He tried to boop Fenris in the nose with it again.
Fenris batted the thing away from his face with a growl. "I never needed to be quite that close to your brother." Which, really, was a lie. He’d been much closer than that, and with much better results. It bothered him how much he’d enjoyed that. Perhaps it was just the act, which would be just as good, with someone else in Cormac’s place. Theron, perhaps. He didn’t mind Theron, he’d decided, however much he might have disliked the man’s obsession with his mage. He was good-humoured, elven, and not a mage, perhaps most importantly.
Pulling his mage down into his lap, he growled again, this time against Artemis’s ear. "Send that thing back to your brother, and come back to bed. You’ve reminded me of what else we discovered that night, other than that I don’t appreciate your brother’s toys."
Artemis purred, trailing a sparking finger down the inside of Fenris’s wrist, a promise of things to come. "Two minutes," Artemis promised, pressing a kiss to Fenris’s lips and sliding off of Fenris’s lap.
In the library doorway, Bodhan politely cleared his throat. "A package for you, messere," he told the eldest Hawke, handing over a box with a note attached. "From Messere Artemis, I think."
Cormac took the box and opened the attached note. His eyes widened, and then he grimaced. "Fenris…?" A strained sound forced itself out, between his teeth. "I’ll be in the back. With a kettle. I need to boil something, and it shouldn’t be in the kitchen." He’d assumed Artie had wanted to borrow it for himself! Not to use on Fenris! And really, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or offended that Fenris hadn’t liked it. Relieved, he decided, after a moment. The lyrium was nice, but no.
Bodhan absorbed the horrified disgust on Cormac’s face, as the eldest Hawke stepped past him, into the hall, likely in search of that kettle.