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It did not take long for Fenris to settle into some semblance of a routine.
He would awaken by dawn and start his day with a series of stretches and training exercises to keep himself limber.
Mid-morning, he would sharpen his blade and clean and oil his armor to keep them in pristine condition, ready for whenever he needed them.
Like clockwork, by noon nearly every day, Hawke would come to his mansion.
Sometimes it was just to check in on him, see how things were going, see if he needed anything. Fenris was unaccustomed to someone having so much interest in his well-being and was deeply suspicious of her the first few times she stopped by before he realized her intentions were genuine.
Other times, she invited him to accompany her on a mission, needing another warrior for whatever she had planned. These little adventures varied greatly, from fetching an item for someone for a little coin to helping the city guard with a particularly difficult problem that they had neither the time nor resources to address.
It was through these missions that Fenris met the rest of Hawke’s trusted companions. He had no issues with Aveline, a staunchly loyal member of the city guard, and in fact found that he admired her conviction and the way she conducted herself.
However, he was less pleased to meet Merrill, a Dalish mage who he discovered used blood magic without any concern for the consequences. He was even less pleased to meet Anders, a former Grey Warden who was hosting “a spirit of justice” within his body. But Fenris knew what he really was. He was an abomination, no matter how Anders tried to justify his decision to let a demon reside in his flesh.
In any other circumstances, Fenris would have taken one look at Merrill and Anders and refused to work with them or be associated with them. He’d had enough experience with these kinds of mages to know it was only a matter of time before they hurt those around them, perhaps irreversibly. However, he owed a debt to Hawke, and he bit back the worst of his anger when working with them, for her sake more than anyone else’s.
Then there were the other times Hawke would come to his mansion, usually late in the evening. She would show up, sometimes with a bottle of wine, invite herself in, and start talking about whatever was on her mind.
The first few times she did this, Fenris did not contribute much to the conversation, unsure of how much he wanted to share of his life with a woman he did not yet know very well. Hawke didn’t seem to mind, and she was more than loquacious enough to carry the conversation herself.
She spoke to him about everything, and Fenris would sit and listen. She spoke of her childhood in Fereldan, how her father was an apostate himself who taught Hawke and her sister Bethany about their magic at home, emphasizing control above all else. Her face would light up whenever she spoke about him, and it became clear just how much she had admired her father before he passed. “My mother has always told me I’m just like my father,” she explained to him, “and not just because of the blonde hair.”
Through these evening chats, Fenris learned not just about her past, but small details about her as well. He discovered that, like him, apples were her favorite fruit, and the next time he was in the market, he spent more coin than he should have on an apple tart from one of the local bakeries.
It was worth it to see how excited Hawke was to try it the next time she visited.
Fenris found out that her favorite color was purple and that she had once broken her arm falling off of the roof of their house when playing a game with Carver and her late sister Bethany. She proudly rolled up her sleeve and showed Fenris the scar on her elbow from her fall.
What Fenris was most surprised to learn was not about Hawke but about himself. He found that he did not mind these late-night conversations with her, despite his initial hesitation, and after a time, he found himself looking forward to them. It was a strange feeling for him to desire company, having spent so much time on his own. He had never needed anyone else, never wanted anyone else.
Yet with Hawke, with her warm eyes and easy smiles, it seemed as natural as breathing.
The sun had just fallen behind the horizon when there was a loud knock at the door. Fenris poked his head out of the second-floor window to confirm it was Hawke who was visiting and not a guard who was investigating the rumors of an elf squatting in Hightown. Aveline had done her best to keep the guards away from the mansion, but even she couldn’t quelch the natural curiosity of some of the greener and more overeager guards.
To his relief, it was Hawke looking up at him, grinning broadly at him. “Let me in!” she said in a loud whisper, holding up a bottle. “I brought wine!”
Fenris descended the stairs and opened his front door. Hawke slipped through quickly, and Fenris closed the door behind her.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” said Hawke in an overly cheerful voice, seemingly admiring the scorch marks on the floor from the rage demon they had fought what seemed like ages ago.
“I am pleased you noticed the addition of the shattered vase in the corner,” drawled Fenris, and she wrinkled her nose in amusement.
She gestured to the bottle of wine. “I am certain this is terrible, but it was part of my payment today for returning a lost ring.” He took the bottle from her hand, turning it over but not recognizing the label.
“We can always throw it at the wall if it is truly that vile,” he suggested as he led them up the stairs to the library. She immediately draped herself across a large chair in front of the fire that she had claimed as her own during her first visit. Fenris set to opening the bottle of wine and pouring them both glasses.
To his surprise, Hawke was quiet as he poured, and when he glanced back at her, her eyes were closed. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her middle, dark shadows under her eyes, a small wrinkle between her brows.
“You seem tired,” commented Fenris, holding out the glass of wine for her. She opened her eyes, frowning slightly at him.
“Fenris, don’t you know it’s rude to tell a lady she looks tired?” she said, her tone gently teasing, sitting up straighter and stretching. He ignored the peek of skin he saw when she lifted her arms and arched her back, her spine cracking as she twisted her torso. “That’s what my mother tells me at least.”
“You have told me before that you are no lady,” Fenris pointed out. Hawke looked thoughtful for a moment.
“You make a good point,” she said, swirling the glass of wine and sniffing it curiously before taking a small sip. Her face immediately contorted in disgust. “Oh, this is definitely not very good.”
“I can fetch another bottle,” said Fenris, starting to stand, but Hawke waved him off.
“No, save your stock of good wine,” she said, taking another sip and shuddering. “I think it’s worse on the second sip.”
“Drink it quickly, and you won’t have time to taste it,” advised Fenris, taking a larger than normal gulp of wine. He almost immediately choked as it burned his throat in a way only the cheapest and most suspect liquor at the Hanged Man usually did. “Fasta vass, that is truly awful. You said someone gave you this as part of your payment? You should return it and demand an actual reward.”
“They seemed really excited to share it with me!” said Hawke. “I would have preferred the coin, but they were so damn eager, I couldn’t say no.” She shook her head and relaxed back into the chair, stifling a yawn.
“Sorry, now I’m being the rude one.” Hawke rubbed her mouth with her hand. “It’s been a long day. A lot of running around, but it was worth it. Almost have enough saved up for the expedition.”
“That is good,” said Fenris evenly, mouth puckering at the second sip he took. Hawke was right; it was worse on the second try. “Have you thought any more about who you want to take with you?”
Hawke shot him a small smile over her glass that disappeared as soon as she took a sip. “Why, are you requesting to go along? Can’t stand to be apart from me for that long?” She winked at him.
“Yes, that is definitely why I am asking,” said Fenris drily, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I was just wondering if you had put any thought into it.”
A look of weariness crossed her face briefly before disappearing behind a pensive mask. “Well, obviously I’ll be going,” she said slowly. “Varric as well. I think I will ask Anders to go along. Not a bad idea to have a Grey Warden with us in the Deep Roads…”
“You are honestly considering trapping yourself underground with that abomination?” interrupted Fenris, unable to stop the sudden anger that surged through his veins.
Hawke’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, is that what we’re doing tonight? We’re going to fight? Because I did not wear my fighting clothes. You will have the advantage.”
Through several conversations and lengthy debates, it became clear to Fenris that he and Hawke were of differing opinions when it came to mages and the role of the Circle and the Templars. Even more so when it came to the abomination and the blood witch.
“No, I do not want to fight,” grumbled Fenris, clenching and unclenching his hands in an attempt to sooth his rage. “I am concerned that you are not concerned. If he loses control, you will have nowhere to run.”
Hawke considered him for a moment, firelight dancing in her eyes. “I know you don’t trust Anders,” she said calmly. “Given everything I know about you and your past, I am not surprised. But I trust him, and I know his insight will be invaluable in the Deep Roads, especially if we run into darkspawn.”
Fenris responded with a small grunt. He understood her rationale, and if Anders was a normal Grey Warden, he would have encouraged her to take him with her. But Anders wasn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination and had so far shown a serious lack of judgement insofar as magic and demons were considered.
“Who will you take as your fourth?” he said after a moment. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Hawke turned towards him.
“This is where I am unsure,” she admitted. “Carver has expressed interest in going, but my mother has begged me to leave him behind. ‘I can’t lose you both,’ she said to me.” A sad smile crossed her face. “Can’t make my whole family happy, can I?”
“Why does Carver want to go?” asked Fenris. “Certainly he knows the risks.”
“Because he’s Carver and he’s tired of living in his big sister’s shadow,” said Hawke, doing her best impression of her brother’s voice. “If he goes to the Deep Roads, he can prove how tough he is, show everyone that I’m not the only Hawke in town.”
Fenris paused for a moment, staring at Hawke’s troubled expression. “Your brother is a bit of an idiot.” A grin blossomed on Hawke’s face, and she let out a laugh, much to Fenris’s relief. He didn’t like when Hawke was distressed, especially when it came to matters of her family. In his opinion, he thought they all put too much pressure on her to make things better, condemning her for the things that went wrong while ignoring her successes as she attempted to drag them out of poverty and back into the higher echelons of society.
“An idiot he may be, but it’s still something to think about,” she said with a sigh. Her face brightened for a moment. “Maybe he’ll break his leg and then I won’t have to decide. He’ll be forced to stay behind!”
“Let me know if you want me to take care of that for you,” said Fenris. “I have been told I can be quite stealthy when the situation calls for it. He won’t even realize what I’ve done until it’s too late for him to react.”
“I may take you up on that,” she said with a wink, taking drink from her glass, grimacing all the while. Fenris stood up and took the bottle.
“Enough of this swill,” he said, tossing the half-full bottle against the far wall. It shattered with a satisfying crash, staining the walls dark red as the wine trickled down.
“Hey! I worked hard for that!” protested Hawke, huffing in false annoyance, barely able to contain the twitching at the corner of her lips as she fought against a smile.
“If you want me to, I can replace it,” said Fenris, turning back towards her. “How much was it worth? Half a copper?”
“Probably less. I’m not even sure there were real grapes in it. Probably some concoction from Darktown. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure I want to know what it was made from.” He smirked as he left the room, padding down to the wine cellar and selecting one of the bottles before returning upstairs.
“Aggregio Pavali,” said Fenris, looking down at the label and frowning at it slightly. “There are six bottles of it in the cellar.” He carefully twisted the cork off. A familiar scent rose from the bottle, and memories of his time while enslaved forced themselves to the forefront of his mind. Visions of parties Danarius hosted swirled in his brain, and Fenris took in several breaths to force them from his thoughts.
“Danarius used to have me serve it to his guests,” he said, glancing at Hawke, unable to stop some of the bitterness from bleeding into his voice. “He said he enjoyed how my appearance intimidated his guests.”
Hawke studied him, her lips twisted in a slight frown. “I can’t imagine why they would be put off,” she said. Almost immediately, a slight tinge of pink spread across her cheeks. “What I mean to say is I do not think your appearance is…” She pressed her palms to her face. “You know what I’m trying to say. Just ignore me.”
The tips of his ears grew warm, and Fenris turned away from her to refill their glasses with the Aggregio. He took a sip from it, considering the taste for a moment. He had never actually had the opportunity to taste the wine, only serve it. There had been more than one occasion when it had been spilled on him, sometimes on purpose, which given how much he found himself enjoying it now, seemed like waste.
Hawke accepted the glass of wine and took a sip from it. Her eyes went wide, the wine staining her lips red. “This is… fine,” she said slowly and nonchalantly.
Fenris raised an eyebrow at her. “It is alright to admit it is a good vintage. Certainly better than whatever it is you brought here tonight.”
“And better than anything I ever had in Fereldan,” she said, taking another sip. Closing her eyes, she hummed quietly in contentment.
They sat in companiable silence for a short while, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. When Fenris reached for the bottle to refill his glass, he finally asked the question that had been considering for some time. “If given the opportunity, would you return to Fereldan? The Blight is over.”
“The Blight may be over, but Lothering is gone,” said Hawke after thinking about it for a moment. “My mother’s from Kirkwall, and she seems determined to reclaim what we’ve lost here.” She looked up at Fenris. “After losing my father and Bethany both… I am not sure I would want to return.”
“I can understand that,” he said. “Still, to have the option is… enviable. I have been on the run from Danarius for three years. I have not had the opportunity to put down roots.”
“You could put down roots here,” suggested Hawke. “Start over, if that’s what you wish.”
Fenris studied Hawke for a moment. Her long blonde hair was tucked behind her ears, the warmth from the fire and the wine making her cheeks a pleasant shade of pink. The light danced in her green eyes, and he felt an ache in his stomach that was not altogether unpleasant but certainly unfamiliar.
“I could see myself staying,” he said cautiously, glancing at Hawke through his bangs, “for the right reasons.” If possible, the pink on her cheeks darkened, and she looked away, unable to suppress the smile on her face.
“Flatterer,” she mumbled, reaching for the bottle. A frown crossed her face when she realized it was empty. “So it goes.” Hawke swallowed the last of her wine and placed her empty glass on the table between them. “Well, I suppose that’s my cue to go.”
“I have long suspected you only seek my company to gain access to my wine cellar,” said Fenris, shaking his head as she stood up. “My suspicions are confirmed.”
Hawke snorted. “Yes, you’ve caught me Fenris. I cannot stand the sight of you. The wine is necessary to make our interactions bearable.”
“Perhaps I will practice my flattery for your next visit,” said Fenris, the words out of his mouth before he had a chance to think. “With any luck, it will make the time we spend together more tolerable.”
A shy, small smile crossed Hawke’s face. “I would like that,” she said. There was a brief awkward moment as she stood watching him, not making an effort to leave. Fenris found that he was in no rush for her to leave, having enjoyed her company thoroughly for not the first time.
“Okay, I’m leaving now,” she said suddenly, moving towards the doorway. “I’ll see you later.” Her steps echoed in the main entryway, the door opening and shutting, leaving only silence in her wake.
Fenris chucked the empty bottle at the wall, watching as the shards fell to the floor. What had possessed him to speak to Hawke as he had? She was beautiful, there was no doubt of that. But she was a mage, and even though she was a disciplined mage, Fenris found himself wondering if that was something he would ever be able to look past.
With Danarius still alive, hiding in his fortress in the Imperium, he knew there was no reason to ponder such things. Until Danarius was dead, there was no room for anything in his life, or anyone.
At least, this is what Fenris decided to tell himself to help him ignore the gnawing feeling that he had perhaps found someone worth making room for.