A/N: A short and fluffy piece for Zoorzh! Some of the lines or concepts of lines are from the Questioning Beliefs Quest in Act II. I tried to keep Fenris as in-character as possible, but I think I might've broken him a little. It's all in the name of love, man.
Dagna had been in Kirkwall for over a year, it now being 9:32 Dragon. She had been away from her home for a long, long time but did not feel the worse for it. Occasionally she missed her father, but as of late she had little time to think on such things.
She sat at the small table in her room, still in the same place that Varric had offered her upon her arrival in the city. She scribbled furiously on several different pieces of parchment, alternating from one to another. Books took up the rest of the table, overlapping each other when necessary. She had been able to get information from her mage friends, for that was what they were – friends, and finally had a hypothesis about why dwarves did not enter the Fade. It was a little muddled, as by her justification Fenris shouldn't have been able to either since his branding, but she was certain she would sort it out in time.
A knock sounded on her door and she jumped, causing her quill to make a stray line. She cursed in Tevene, as she had done for quite some time, and called a harried, "come in!" before she continued her frenzied writing.
"You really must be more careful," Fenris sighed as he opened the door, his sword nowhere in sight. He wore none of his armor, all of which had been left in another part of Varric' suite, as he felt it was a little unnecessary to burden Dagna's small room with such a large sword.
"Oh, hello, just one moment," Dagna said, not looking up from her work. It was longer than a moment, during which time Fenris leaned against the wall beside the door, one leg crossed in front of the other and his uncovered hands holding a bottle in front of him. Directly beside him was a bookshelf, something he imagined Varric had gotten for her (or perhaps she had purchased with her winnings from Diamondback, he thought with amusement) and it was lined with as many books as it could hold. A lot of them looked familiar, as she had taught him to read using several of them and he had asked to read others. His eyes lingered on the spines as the memories of studying with her drifted into his mind. Despite himself, he smiled a little.
That was how Dagna found him when she finally turned around, standing from her chair and wiping her inky hands across the dark breeches she wore. She began to speak before she looked up and saw him saying, "I hardly think-"
She stopped when she saw the smile on his face, which faded slowly as he turned to look at her. It did not disappear completely, although it was hardly what one would call a proper smile any longer.
"It is no matter," Fenris, his smile a little wider, pushed off of the wall. He lifted the bottle for her to read the label and she looked from the words to his face.
"But this-"
"…is your favorite."
Dagna watched him curiously, unsure of what to make of the gesture. Fenris pried the cork off and gestured to her bed to sit. There were no other options, in truth; it was not that Varric wasn't generous so much as Dagna didn't want much. They settled on the bed, both leaning their backs against the wall that ran down the long side of the bed. Dagna's stocking-covered feet did not reach to the opposite end of the bed, while Fenris' knees were near the edge of it. It was a rather small bed, but big enough for Dagna.
Fenris lifted the bottle of wine toward her, "It is for you, after all."
"What's the occasion?" Dagna inquired after taking a long sip. It was delicious, a honey wine with blueberry hints. Sweeter than Aggregio by far, but Fenris appreciated the flavor regardless. More than that, he knew Dagna did. "And thank you."
"No occasion," Fenris remarked lightly, taking a drink when she offered it back to him. He took a drink and waited a long moment, looking at her without moving his head. "A friend cannot simply do something kind?"
They sat side-by-side, close but not touching on her bed. Dagna, who had long-since valued Fenris as a friend, had never heard him call her such directly. She smiled at the word, hidden a little by her hair. It was longer now, as hair tends to be. Fenris' was cut regularly, but Dagna had not cut her hair since she left Orzammar. Her father had wanted her to keep it short but without him around, she was able to let it grow well passed her shoulders.
In addition to her hair, she had grown – not in height – much since meeting Fenris. She understood more of what things meant, how to properly interact with people. She was still too trusting for his liking but she had never lost her kindness either. And she was helping him, even if she hadn't been able to find out exactly how to get his memories back.
"Oh!" Dagna started, offering Fenris the bottle as she climbed down from the bed and moved over to her table. Beneath one of her books was another, which she brought back over to her bed. She climbed onto it, sitting facing Fenris that time. She sat with her legs to the side, leaning her shoulder against the wall as she looked at him.
Fenris had watched her as she moved, the wine still in his lap. He said nothing as she moved, his small smile still curving his lips the tiniest bit. When she rejoined him on the bed, he glanced to the book in her hands.
"This – this is for you. Cedric told me he had seen it in the Alienage. I bartered for some of my healing potions."
"Shartan? He helped Andraste free the slaves."
"I thought you might like it."
"I know of the tale, but I have never had the chance to read it myself. I greatly appreciate this, Dagna." And he did. He felt a warmth, or something like it, in his stomach and he settled the book to his side as he set his head back against the wall. Dagna took the bottle from his hand, touching the bare skin there as she did so. They touched occasionally, rarely on purpose, but Fenris remembered every time.
"So you really had no ulterior motive in coming here tonight?" Dagna asked, leaning her head gently against the wall and looking across the profile of the elf.
He did, of course. But he wasn't entirely sure where to start. "I thought you might enjoy some company."
"I always enjoy your company, Fenris," Dagna smiled at him over the bottle, her third drink in a row. "I quite enjoy the sound of your voice."
Having the wherewithal to blush, Fenris raised an eyebrow at her as he turned his head a little to the side. "Is that so?"
"Even when you're angry with me."
"I am never angry with you."
Dagna laughed at that, Fenris taken aback a little.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Because you are angry much of the time."
"That is not true."
It was Dagna's turn to look surprised.
"I hope you do not think that is true, Dagna," Fenris frowned slightly, his eyebrows drawn closer with concern.
"No, not really," she responded, trying to get the smile back. She touched his leg lightly, handing back the bottle of wine. "I know, Fenris."
"You do like it, though?"
"Yes," Dagna stole the bottle again, taking a longer drink this time and settling the bottom of the bottle between them on the bed. Fenris' hand was close to her knee but not touching it, the bottle in the small v-shape that her separated knees made. "I am glad you have started telling me more about you, it gives you an excuse to talk."
Fenris chuckled at that, a rare sound and one that Dagna very much enjoyed. When he moved to take the bottle from her, his hand covered hers entirely before she relinquished her hold. As his laughter faded, his face grew more serious although still content.
"I have never spoken to someone the way I speak with you, Dagna. I had only told Cedric and Hawke as little as I could to get by. But you, I have told you more about me than either of them know. Than anyone does, really."
She was unsure of how to respond to him, hands curved lightly around her knees as she watched him. His head, tipped against the wall and his neck elongated with the act of drinking the wine. The brands on his neck rippled as he swallowed, no brighter than the dull bluish-white glow they held with no influx of emotions from the elf.
"I am glad that you feel as though you can talk to me," she took the bottle back from him, realizing it was quickly becoming closer to empty than full. "I am glad, too, that you believe us to be friends."
Fenris did not respond as she offered him the bottle, nor did he respond as she took it back from him.
"Fenris?" Dagna said, after the silence stretched on.
"Yes?"
"Did I say something wrong?"
Fenris turned to look at her and shook his head, "Hmm? No, not at all. I was just trying to think of another story to tell you."
"Have you come up with anything?" Dagna asked as she turned, her shoulder starting to hurt a little from the pressure. On a whim, Fenris lifted his arm at his side. Dagna looked at him for, what to him, seemed like ages before she settled herself beneath the raised arm. Her side was pressed to his, his arm nestled perfectly in the space between her lower back and the wall, his hand curved around so that his fingertips only lightly touched the outside of her leg, covered by her thick pants. Dagna felt a chill, although she knew she was not cold.
Fenris, using his right hand, tipped the bottle back for another drink. He felt quite warm already – granted, they had nearly polished off the bottle – but was not so eager to move from his precariously acquired spot. He offered it back to her, setting it gently on her leg. "No, I do not think I have. Although, I have thought of something to tell you."
"What is that?"
"You are…unlike any woman I have ever met," he began, sounding a little hesitant at first. Dagna had not known him to question his words much if ever.
"I know. I'm insufferable," she replied, poking him gently with her finger as she offered him the bottle again.
"No..No, Dagna, that is not what I meant to say. I have never allowed anyone too close but you-" Fenris stopped, sighing heavily. He took another long drink of the wine before he offered the last of it to Dagna, a decent mouthful or two. She took the bottle from him and switched it to her left hand, using her right to take his briefly as it lay upon his leg.
"I think I understand, Fenris."
And, as they sat with their empty bottle of wine, unspoken words, and shared stories of their lives before each other, she really thought she might. Neither of them mentioned it again that night; when they left to get more drinks, they returned to a very similar position, nestled next to each other with their bottle between them.
It was something harder than wine, which went directly to Dagna's head. They sat up for a long while, until Dagna could no longer keep her eyes open. Fenris found that she had fallen asleep during a retelling of one of his adventures with Cedric, although he was sure Dagna had heard the story many times. He moved the bottle to the floor beside her little table, not trusting himself to keep it from spilling all over her work if he tried to put it off the floor. Careful not to wake her, he removed himself from beneath her sleeping head to stand. Once he was off of the bed, he lifted her carefully and maneuvered to pull her blankets down, slipping her into her bed.
He watched her for quite some time, facing the wall as she slept. The slow rise and fall of her side brought him comfort and he reached out, touching her hair gently as he smoothed it away from her face.
She startled a little, still half-asleep and very drunk, her hand flailing a little as she reached back to find him. "Fenris?"
"Yes?"
"S…stay," she breathed, taking his hand with her as she rolled back over. Fenris smiled at her back and settled on the edge of her bed, one leg draped across the other with one foot on the ground. He did stay, for quite a while, letting her hold his hand as she fell into slumber.
He thought about joining her for the night, merely for sleeping, but as he looked at the length of her sleeping form, he was content to sit until she relinquished his hand.
When he finally emerged from her room, having blown out the candles hanging from the ceiling before doing so and grabbing the book he had nearly forgotten, he found Varric at his long table, where Fenris had left his sword and armor.
The merchant prince watched Fenris with a raised eyebrow, arms folded across his hairy chest. They held eye-contact for a long time before the shorter male broke into a grin, at which point Fenris scowled - because he wouldn't be Broody if he didn't scowl - and gathered his things, leaving as the sun came up.