The next time, Fenris stood outside her door. The day was free of all other commitments, he had made sure of this. Yet he stood in the dark alcove of the front step, tensed and staring at the door handle, without reaching out to let himself in.
Was this a mistake? He had managed just fine for this long without learning to read, so why go to all the effort now? Was he really going to gain anything from it? His worth didn't come from the ability to read the latest tale from Varric, partly because in that instance he was more likely to have lived the story first-hand and, on top of that, he could hear it straight from the author's mouth, with much more spirited embellishments intended to captivate an audience. Though that was not the point. Fenris was good at what he did, he was fast and fierce, a ghost on the field of battle; he could leap on a man from five paces away and easily cleave the head from his shoulders. Now that, Hawke could use.
Any information he found relevant was already stored in his memory, it had certainly helped them out in more than one situation before.
So why would she bother with him over this? After what he'd done to her.
He stared at the door handle and took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to turn around and walk away, he had agreed to this and even asked Hawke for help after she offered it. Still the door provided a solid obstruction. He didn't want to let what had happened to him control his life, the brutal but honest truth Hawke had given to him that night, still so recent that the memory stung. So recent, Fenris couldn't fathom why Hawke would be willing to take up her time helping him, yet she was still treating him as her friend, still welcoming him into her home.
He stiffened, drawing his shoulders up and fixing a resolute glare on the door in front of him. Hawke was offering this gesture of kindness, therefore he was going to learn because this was something for himself, something he wanted and was going to work for, pride be damned. With that thought, he turned the door handle and walked into the entry hall.
A face peered around the corner – Bodahn looking to see who the new arrival was. His face immediately cleared when he recognised Fenris and his voice boomed over the intervening space between them. "Good evening, Messere. I didn't know we were expecting you but the mistress is in her library."
Fenris scowled at the title, he had told the dwarf more than once to just call him by name. Rather than bothering to repeat himself once again, aware that he would likely be more caustic than the dwarf deserved, Fenris strode across the main hall to the opposite door.
He pushed it open and peered inside the room. Hawke was sat with her back to the wall, a selection of books strewn around her, a pen in hand and several sheets of paper with notes scrawled upon them. Only when Fenris stepped further into the room and closed the door behind himself did she look up, and then she grinned at him from her position on the floor.
"See," She gestured to the chaos around herself. "I've been making plans." She looked triumphant and something in Fenris jolted at the scene, seeing the effort she had made.
That made it easier for him to return her smile and if his was somewhat more strained, she didn't comment. "It's a pity you won't plan other areas of your life." He said pointedly, watching her climb up from the floor. She paused to shoot him a suspicious glance before laughing as she dusted off her robes.
"If you're referring to that incident with the spiders yesterday, notice that we came out of it completely unscathed."
"Only because the mage happens to specialise in healing." Fenris replied but he didn't quite summon his usual bite when commenting on their handy abomination. It led to Hawke playfully swatting him with the pen as she walked past him towards the table. She placed a sheet of paper down and the pen on top of it before turning back to Fenris, who at once again felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. Facing the challenge ahead of him was suddenly daunting once more but he slowly made himself follow her over to the vacant chair.
He wasn't even fully seated when the explosive crack echoed through the room, dust shaking loose from the ceiling and drifting slowly to the floor even as Fenris leapt back to his feet, hands curling into fists only to find his usual clawed gauntlets weren't there. Of course he hadn't put them on, thinking he was simply spending the evening across Hightown. Stupid, how very stupid of him. He headed for the door nevertheless only to find it wrenched open ahead of him.
Orana stood there, her frightened expression somehow startling even more when she came face to face with a bristling Fenris on the offense. Recovering remarkably well, she looked past him to see Hawke, then started speaking quickly.
"I'm very sorry to disturb you both, Mistress. It's just that… there's been an accident." She was looking down at the ground, wringing her hands.
Fenris had been standing watching her and didn't realise Hawke had moved so close until she huffed a long suffering sigh directly over his shoulder.
"What's he done now?" She asked wearily.
"It's not so bad, Messere. It's just- a bench exploded. Again." Orana was cautiously looking up at Hawke now, Fenris could see her trying to gauge the Mistress' reaction. He hated seeing it. However, when Hawke laughed, waving a hand as if brushing the issue aside, Orana smiled slightly in return, relaxation that immediately gladdened Fenris. The serving girl clearly didn't believe Hawke would be cruel, even if she was ready for it, had learnt she had to be.
While he pondered on the change he had seen in the girl already over the past few weeks since she had joined the household, Hawke had moved past him, already on her way to the source of the acrid powder smell. He nodded to Orana, acknowledging her duty of reporting the latest mishap to Hawke, and then he too stepped hurriedly from the room.
He found Hawke out in the entry hall, the smell of something singed assaulting his nose as he turned the corner and saw a mangled heap of what apparently used to be one of the ornate, mostly decorative, pews against the wall. Fenris hadn't known wood could even twist and warp that way, the lingering reek of magic leaving him cringing, mostly internally. Bodahn stood next to Hawke, trying to explain in his usual jovial tone with one arm around Sandal, who stood looking both pleased and jolted.
"It's certainly impressive, Sandal." Hawke was saying, her surprisingly large capacity for patience with the man something Fenris utterly failed to comprehend. "What were you aiming for exactly?"
"I'm not sure aiming is really his biggest…well, aim." Bodahn started to say.
"Kaboom! No fire." Sandal replied slowly, still staring transfixed at the remains of the bench. Fenris felt his skin crawling as the boy idly swung his arms at his sides, the potential to cause unknowable damage just a…a something away. He wasn't even sure what the boy did, only that the power in him was apparently entirely unchecked.
"Well if you actually managed that, I'll want to see it. And it's a step up from putting out another flaming rug." She was smiling at him and Fenris couldn't understand her ease. This simple fool was wielding dangerous magic in her house, some kind of magic he shouldn't have and was clearly not in control of. He found himself looking beyond the small group gathered in the entrance to the main door. It was looking tempting.
"Hawke, I will not keep you, there are other things to concern yourself with."
"Not a worry. We'll be sorted in moments. Plenty of practice." The grin that was just growing on her face fell when she saw the dark look on his own. Then he was moving, perhaps with a little more speed than dignity, towards the other side of the room.
"No, you should deal with-" He waved a hand at the tangle in the corner, "I cannot take up your time." He was holding the handle of the door and, without looking back, found himself on the other side of it once more. The fresh air brushed away the keen tingling of magic he sensed clinging onto him and he walked briskly to the first archway in the square, leaning against the shadowed wall and breathing in deeply, fists clenched at his sides.
A small part of him he didn't fully want to acknowledge breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't due to his escape from the sharp crackle of enchantment. Instead, he had once again postponed his humiliation.