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Fenris had always considered being unable to read an annoyance, an...inconvenience. Danarius had taken great pleasure in letting Fenris carry his most important missives, knowing that he was unable to decipher their contents. After he had come to Kirkwall, the inability became something else, an embarrassment. They could all read, all of his friends, even the abomination. Varric and Isabela took unheard of delight in not only reading, but in writing, preserving and exaggerating (and often entirely making up) tales of their no so merry band of misfits.
When Hawke had thought to gift him with, of all things, a book, Fenris had been torn in his reactions. He was touched (flushed?) that Hawke had thought of him, had brought him a present so meant to cater to his own interests. But...Hawke would expect Fenris to read the book, would want to discuss it with him after, to know his thoughts. Few people had ever truly wanted to know Fenris' thoughts and opinions on any matter before. But Hawke did. Fenris could not bear to disappoint him by letting him think the gift was unappreciated, and so he grudgingly admitted his own flaw, his lack.
He had expected, not mockery, not from Hawke, but...disappointment, perhaps. To be judged. The invitation of lessons, the sincerity of the offer, those were truly a surprise. So much work just so that his friend might enjoy a gift given almost purely on impulse. Yet, it spoke to the heart of Fenris, allowing Hawke to slip just a little further inside of its hardened shell.
The lessons, while not always a joy, were ever a gift. Not just of a skill Fenris had long valued and bemoaned his own lack of. No, not just that. They were a gift of time as well. Hawke's time, given freely, spent with Fenris, showing him an entirely new way of learning about the world. They were a gift, too, of understanding. In learning from Hawke, Fenris learned of the man. He grew to know him better than had he just observed him in battle or at The Hanged Man. He learned that Hawke respected him just as he respected Hawke.
Time passed and his ability progressed, and so did his feelings for Hawke, much to his own confusion. A night of passion followed by a painful rejection, knowing that it had been too much too soon. But still Hawke remained there for him, offering friendship, offering knowledge, waiting to let Fenris decide if he wanted more.
And then he was free. Well and truly free of the shadow of Danarius hanging over him. The man who had kept him ignorant, enslaved, used him for his own wants and desires. Gone. When Fenris would have acted without thought and ended his sister for her part in the betrayal, there was Hawke beside him, asking him to wait, to think. To not act first and regret later. Fenris saw the pain in Hawke's eyes as he made this request and knew Hawke spoke from their own experiences together. Hawke, the man who had helped him learn, who had worked to ensure his freedom, who had taught Fenris to find his own joys in life.
Whatever he might feel for Varania in the moment, he could not hurt this man at his side. His friend, his...heart. And yes, that was what Hawke was, he knew. He looked at his sister and allowed her to leave, growling out the words, because it still hurt. But, perhaps, like the stories Hawke had shown him to read, there was more to her story. If she lived, he might have the chance to find out why this had happened and even, yes, what happened next. He did not think he believed in happily ever afters, but he was growing to think that did not mean one should never leave room for them to grow. Just in case.
That night he made a second confession to Hawke and prayed it did not come too late. This time their evening spent together was followed by a morning of joy, not regret. There were too many chances for things to go wrong, Fenris knew that from experience. But he was learning, from Hawke and from the stories he could now read, that such a reality only meant one should embrace the good things and enjoy them while they were happening. It made them all the sweeter to know how fleeting they might truly be.
Fenris found himself seeking out more and more books as his reading skills advanced. He found himself lost in the stories held within those pages, telling Hawke of them over dinner or in bed. Hawke seemed only too pleased at how avid a reader Fenris had grown to be, and instead of lessons now they had evenings where they curled up together and read, sometimes each with his own book, sometimes sharing one tale together, taking turns reading aloud to one another.
It was not uncommon for Hawke to return home from a day of adventures to find Fenris curled up in a chair before the fire in his room, lost in his newest book. Fenris pretended to be annoyed when Hawke would surprise him by swooping in for a hug before the engrossed elf knew he was even there. But truth be told, he didn't mind those hugs at all.