Fenris is not in the habit of indulging himself completely. Not yet. It is not something he could even consider for a very long time, but in the bones of a magister's house he begins to carve out a life for himself.
It starts out with little things at first. There is a small sculpture of Andraste on a table in his bedroom that he moves a few inches to the left. Then he rearranges the furniture in the living room to sit by the window before changing his mind and moving them towards the empty fireplace. It takes a few weeks before he decides to light it, but that is his decision and it makes all the difference.
Most of the house remains dark, untouched, but fragments of Fenris start to take root and grow in the places he makes his. His. Slowly he gets used to this idea of 'mine' and what it means to be selfish. One day he lifts a bottle of wine to his mouth and doesn't drown in another man's life. And all of it is in no small part to Hawke.
She is the most selfish thing he has ever known. He knows she would rather break than ever bend. She fights to keep what is hers, teeth bared and claws sharp against those who would dare change her or take what she has made her own. He challenges her constantly, arguing with every decision she makes and every time she ignores him it only strengthens his resolve to be more like her. Only fuels this mad, wonderful tightness in his chest to know someone can be stronger than any chain.
Sometime later, Fenris wakes with face pressed into the tightly woven fabric of her bed. It is startling at first, after all this time of things becoming his, to now find comfort in something belonging to another. Hawke has a habit of changing everything without even realizing.
He calls out to her, voice still raw from sleep, only to find her missing from the bedroom. He is not brave enough to explore the house proper without her present, so instead he rises intent on readying himself for the coming day. Fenris moves towards his pack in the corner of the room to collect his things only to find it limp, empty.
He tries to think rationally. Hawke may be selfish, but she is no thief. She would not take what is his. Yet the angry, fearful monster hidden in him howls to the surface, the wolf that bites at hands that come too close. When the door opens, he turns to her with a snarl.
"Oh, goodmor-" She stops at the sight of his shaking frame.
"What have you done with them?" His fierce demand wipes the surprise from her face and replaces it with a heated look of her own as her fighting instinct takes over.
"Excuse me?"
"My things. Where are they, Hawke?"
She takes a breath and the tension leaks away. Hawke veers to the side before reaching him and moves towards the set of drawers against the wall. Her long fingers pull the top, left one open to reveal the modest pile of Fenris' belongings.
"I thought it was a little silly that you keep bringing that sack over every time. You can keep them here, if you'd like." Hawke smiles at his confused frown, patience in her eyes that he rarely sees anywhere else but in the space between them. Fenris joins her on cautious feet, the wild thing circling inside pausing.
He looks at her with wide, unbelieving eyes. "You would let me have a place here?"
Hawke laughs, the end of it a little sharp as she hides in her own way. "It's just a drawer, Fenris."
"No, it's-" It's another lesson she's teaching him. How to give and keep yourself in the same heartbeat. How to be selfless with the things you own, with yourself. He knows it's as difficult for her as it is for him with all the loss she has suffered, all the pieces of herself torn away by someone's greed. If she can be brave, so can he. "I'm sorry, I'm not…I shouldn't have-"
"Don't," she says and steps into his chest, head tucking beneath his chin. "Besides, you've always had a place here. Now it's merely official."
"Thank you for this. You don't…it means a great deal to me, Hawke. I wish I knew how to convey it properly."
She lifts her head and kisses the bottom of his throat, smirking into the skin. "I know of one way that will convince me."
He knows she's giving him an out, perhaps giving them both one, and he knows he should step back and tell her how he feels, untangle the knots inside until he is something new. For now he accepts her offering, slanting his mouth over hers, telling her in caresses what he can't in words.
Being fully hers will be the most selfish thing he could ever do and Fenris is not in the habit of indulging himself completely. Not yet.