Chapter Text
Fenris awoke with a start, head pounding. He moaned softly and grimaced, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Drinking early is always a terrible idea. He wondered how long he'd been insensible, the warm light from the windows suggested late afternoon. He took a deep breath and rose shakily, heading for the bowl of water in the corner of the room. Bottles scattered and rolled, the noise sending fresh waves of pain through his head and a roll of nausea through his stomach. How many of these did I drink today?
He had vague memories of storming back to the mansion and grabbing wine from the cellar before wandering the rooms trying to ignore the burning sensation over his skin which always seemed to accompany a dark mood. After that things were a little fuzzy. He groaned. I do not feel well. He splashed some water on his face, and, staggering slightly sat back heavily in the dusty armchair. He doubted Hawke would come tonight, not after their little exchange that morning. He leaned back, closing his eyes. Probably for the best.
Something large and heavy crashed through the glassware onto the table in front of him waking him again with a start. Blearily he realised a thick, leather-bound book sat before him and looked up to find Hawke standing over him, arms folded.
"Are you well?"
He rubbed his face. "I am…fine. Merely a headache."
"Bit early isn't it? Perhaps you shouldn't drink so much."
"When and how much I drink is none of your business. Besides, I do not drink to excess." Hawke raised an eyebrow and snorted rudely.
"I arrived earlier to find you sitting beside your friend the corpse downstairs, clutching a bottle and muttering nonsensically. Thought I'd give you two some time alone." She eyed him. "Why'd you get so drunk?"
He rubbed his eyes. Because I was annoyed? Ashamed? "Because I can. It takes the edge off – " He stopped abruptly, glancing up. Hawke's face was still but her eyes glittered. After a pause she nodded sharply and set a small vial down in front of him.
"For your headache. We have work to do."
He drank the potion without comment and watched whilst Hawke fell into the chair across from him and crossed her arms expectantly. He eyed her warily. He'd expected their next meeting to be more…confrontational. Instead her face was carefully blank except for a hint of challenge in her eyes. He was suddenly discomfited by her lack of expression and the heavy silence in the room.
"Are you well, Hawke?" He said and cursed the sudden hesitancy in his voice. She nodded again, expression neutral. Fenris shifted uncomfortably. He was beginning to see why she found his practised mask disconcerting. He fought down the sudden urge to provoke a reaction, any reaction out of her.
"Shall we begin?" Hawke gestured towards the book. "As I mentioned before there are practice conversational topics in there. Try page 2197."
Fenris searched her face for any signs of mockery. "No." He saw her jaw tighten and relaxed slightly. Any indication of her current mood was better than none. At least he could prepare for personal injury knowing he was beginning to irritate her. She tapped her teeth with an index finger. "And why is that?"
He lifted his chin. "I am unsure of your Ferelden customs but in Tevinter they do not teach slaves to read."
"I see." Her finger rose and fell a few times on the arm of her chair. "Would you like to learn?"
He sighed impatiently. "I'm fairly sure the time we have allotted to us would be better spent with you learning new skills rather than me."
"I have skills you bloody – " Hawke closed her mouth with a snap and smoothed her face, brushing her tunic once, twice…ah. "Alright, let's do this a different way." She rose quickly and lifted the book sending more bottles crashing to the floor. "So. I'll have to be the one initiating polite conversation, you can supply the answers that I would be expected to give."
Fenris blinked. "Supply your…so I'm to be the woman?"
She smiled at him coldly. "Well you're the only one I know who drinks poncy wine and complains constantly so I'd say you're more than appropriate for the role." She shot him a look as he opened his mouth crossly. "Before you object you've got just as much to gain from this as the rest of us, perhaps more. With the money you could leave for good and set up somewhere new. Maybe even buy yourself a friendly assassin to help you find and finish off that old master of yours. You'd be free and away from here and us, something you're always harping on about, so enough of the pouting. Let's get on with this."
He looked away, pressing his lips together in irritation for a moment before gesturing sharply at her to begin. She thumped the now open book back down onto the table with a crash and scraped her chair forward loudly watching him wince and pinch the bridge of his nose with some satisfaction.
"Right." She faced him, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head back so she was glaring at him down the length of her nose. "Good evening, Milady." Her voice was pitched ridiculously low. "I trust you are having a fine evening. Do you find the wine to your taste or is it a mite sweet for you?" She finished off by inspecting the soles of her feet, straightening with an exaggerated scowl.
"If you are going to mock me – "
"Mock you, my lady? Surely you cannot think so poorly of me. I am the very embodiment of propriety, tact and honour."
"If you are referring to – "
"What think you of the food here? Are you partial to the fish?"
Fenris rose suddenly. "I thank you for your interest, Ser, especially as my attire appears to be causing much amusement this evening. Some of the guests here seem to believe I have never worn a dress before tonight."
"A peculiar notion. I have been asked several times whether I provide special services at the Blooming Rose. Perhaps my attire causes confusion also."
Fenris' lips thinned. "Do excuse me, I find I am having trouble understanding some of the longer words in this conversation. Would you mind speaking more plainly?"
Hawke glared up at him, eyes narrowed. "My apologies, Serah. Let me have one of my my servants deliver to you a dictionary so you may expand your vocabulary through extensive reading. In fact they may even read the simpler words to you if you ask nicely. You will find them polite and devoid of ambitions that extend beyond their station in life. Do you not find it irksome when slav - , excuse me, servants get above themselves?"
Fenris circled her. "I am most grateful for your offer, Ser, but fear I must politely decline. Much of my day is spent striding about looking for excuses to be violent. I have little time for reading or personal improvement, as I'm sure you will have noticed."
Hawke shot to her feet, moving closer. "A shame. I myself prefer to skulk in darkened rooms, drinking and brooding on trifling matters. If I am sure I am not to be disturbed for a short while, I polish my sword. There is but little to clean, however, and it never takes long. The remainder of my day I wait for someone to come and take me out and tell me what to do next -"
"No-one tells me what to do – "
"- and then I can spend hours complaining about my terrible, awful past – "
Fenris took two short angry strides and glared down at her. "You persist in your mockery of matters you do not understand!"
"On the contrary, I understand very well. I simply do not care." Hawke took a breath, suddenly aware their faces were inches apart. Fenris was breathing heavily, a faint flush on his cheeks. Tap, tap, tap. He looked down at her foot and back up, fists unclenching.
"Perhaps" she said slowly "we should attempt a different conversational topic." His eyes moved over her face, dropping to her lips briefly before he turned away from her.
"Your grasp of formal language appears to be satisfactory. Surprisingly so." Hawke bit her lip, nails digging into her palms. "I am fairly certain there is no more I can teach you in that regard" he said softly. "I am sure you will modify your…manner naturally depending on whom you encounter. I fear I am not the best choice for you to engage in polite conversation with."
Hawke sighed inwardly. You shouldn't have let him wind you up. In truth she hadn't completely forgiven him for his hurtful jibe earlier, despite his not knowing of her family's loss. She had gone home with Bethany only to get involved in a huge fight with her mother about Carver and to be unceremoniously ejected from the house. Seething, she'd arrived at Danarius' mansion mid-afternoon all set to tell Fenris that they were ceasing these ridiculous sessions, that she'd manage somehow on her own. She'd expected him to agree, possibly not bothering to hide his relief, after which they'd exchange angry words as usual and things would have gone on as before. Instead she'd found him sitting at the bottom of the stairs, blind drunk, mumbling to that blasted corpse. She'd looked at the corpse and then back at him, slightly thrown by the scene before her. He'd not noticed her so she'd left quickly, annoyed and confused.
I shouldn't have come. I arrived looking for an excuse to fight. Behaving like this isn't going to make things any easier. Something has to change whether this continues or not. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.
"I didn't mean that. What I said earlier. I don't know…much about your past." He said nothing but she saw his head tilt in surprise. "I won't mention it again."
He turned slightly, firelight haloing his hair and outlining the planes of his profile. "For what it's worth I'm...sorry about your brother."
"I know."
Brows lowered in confusion he turned to face her properly. "Your meaning?" His expression became progressively more perplexed as she quirked an eyebrow and pointed downwards with one finger. "I think that's enough for one night, Fenris. I'll see you tomorrow."
After she had gone he headed downstairs, noting with surprise that at some point during the day he had arranged the corpse with head bowed and a hand across its eyes as if in shame.
Hawke ambled slowly through Darktown. She noticed a small band of scruffy looking men standing at the entrance to an alley and smiled grimly to herself as they sidled away nervously. Her reputation was spreading amongst the gangs of Kirkwall. Not one to be messed with. She arrived at Anders' clinic and rapped sharply on the door. It was late but he was likely up and about - the man never seemed to sleep. Perhaps he didn't need to any more with the permanent guest in his head. The door opened a fraction and a suspicious eye appeared.
"It's me."
Anders smiled at her. "Who else would it be dropping in past midnight? Come in, Isabela's here for her usual treatment." Hawke grimaced and wrinkled her nose at him as he shrugged and let her past. I'm amazed she hasn't got bits dropping off her by now the amount of unpleasant diseases she seems to pick up.
"Ah, darling Hawke. How goes things with our angry but delectable Fenris?" Isabela was sprawled comfortably on the examination table. She patted the space next to her with a grin. "Any injuries to report, minor or otherwise? Stab wounds? Bruising? Intimate chafing?"
"Only these." Hawke opened her hands to show a row of deep crescent shaped marks across her palms.
"Oh Hawke." Anders bustled over to his desk, grabbing a small pot of salve from a drawer. He flapped Isabela impatiently out of the way and sat down next to her, taking her hands gently.
"Do those count?" Asked Isabela, ignoring Hawke's suspicious glare. "Um. No." Anders busied himself, looking a little pink.
"What are you two talking ab – "
"Hawke, you must find other ways of controlling your temper. Or at least cut your nails, these are very deep." He smoothed the salve gently over one palm. "Are you sure you're actually getting anything out of this besides self-mutilation?"
"I've picked up one or two things. Unlike Isabela who's picked up loads."
"Ha!" The pirate smirked at her. "Good one. Word of advice, avoid the broad shouldered whore with the fused fingers. Those fingers in no way make up for – "
"I'll bear that in mind. Ugh, I don't know," Hawke scuffed the floor in frustration. "He's infuriating. We just don't seem to be able to talk normally for more than five minutes before we start yelling at each other. He makes things really hard - "
"Well it is cold in his mansion…"
"Oh shut up, Isabela. I mean he's so prickly and stand-offish…it drives me mad! Still, tonight was a bit better by the end. Let's not mention the middle. I think we reached a sort of truce - for the time being, anyway."
Isabela propped herself against the wall. "Not everyone is as open and friendly as the rest of us."
"I've met no-one friendlier or as open as you, I have to say" said Hawke, grinning at Isabela's outright laugh. Anders huffed quietly in amusement, studying her profile. He turned his attention to her other palm quickly as she glanced at him.
Isabela studied the two for a moment and pursed her lips. "Well I'm off. The night is still young and so is that pretty elf in the Blooming Rose." She sashayed across the room. "Later."
"Honestly," said Hawke, shaking her head "I'm no prude but that woman really upsets me sometimes. Where does she find the energy?" She turned to Anders, smile fading slightly at his solemn expression. "What's wrong?"
"It's just…this plan. I don't think you should have to do anything to…you know," he looked away uncomfortably "persuade Saemus to find us work. Or get into a relationship you don't…want."
She bumped him with her shoulder. "I'm not going to whore myself out, if that's what you mean. I'd make more money at the Blooming Rose if I had a mind to. He's nice, we'll see what happens. If I don't send him running screaming from me in the first five minutes."
"No sane man would even consider that." He reluctantly let go of her hands. "And don't even get me started on you having to spend time with that maniac."
"Humph. We're both maniacs if you look at us closely enough. We're too, what's the word, combative, combustible, something beginning with comb, anyway. Always striking sparks off each other. I'm just as bad as he is."
"You're nothing like him! You're honourable…and…and kind. You don't hate mages."
"Neither does he. Not really. I don't think so anyway. He blames them for his…marking thingies but it's magic he really dislikes. He certainly doesn't trust mages but the amount of blood magic we've seen around here lately I suppose that's understandable. You and Bethany are just going to have to prove him wrong" she smiled wearily. "No pressure."
Anders eyed her suspiciously. "You've changed your tune a bit"
She sighed. "Just tired of fighting with him." She stood up slowly. "It's late, I'll let you rest. Thanks for fixing me up."
"You're welcome." Sitting alone on his exam table he watched her leave, a look of longing on his face. I hate this plan he thought miserably. What if I lose her to a Viscount's son? Or worse, to that arrogant…no, she would never..! He's contemptible. Still, he couldn't shake the growing feeling of dread at the thought of Hawke and Fenris continuing to spend time together alone.
TBC