A Friend In Need

A knock interrupted the scratching of Varric's inkpen on his notebook. He glanced up from the page to see the outline of a dwarf in his doorway.

"Excuse me, Master Tethras?" the man said hesitantly. He stepped into the lamplight to reveal he was none other than Bodahn Feddic, Hawke's impromptu butler. His appearance made Varric's heart sink. "Do you have a moment?"

"Of course, Bodahn, what is it?" Varric stretched, hearing his back pop loudly as if to protest his hours of sitting still. "Is Hawke feeling better yet?"

"She's actually why I'm here, ser," the other dwarf sighed. "She still refuses to come out of her room and she barely eats. I've set meals out for her, but more often than not she doesn't touch them. I'm worried that she'll make herself ill if she keeps
this up, if she hasn't already."

"It's been a week since Leandra died. Haven't you gone in to check on her?"

"She keeps the door locked, ser."

Varric sighed. "Of course she does. I'll go check on her, maybe I can talk some sense into her." A locked door was no challenge for him, though the grieving woman inside the room would more than likely prove much more difficult.

At this point, Bodahn looked nervous. "Ser, it's not just that her door is locked," he explained hesitantly, "it's that she… Well, Sandal and I are fairly certain she's melted the door handle. It's not that itwon'topen, it's that itcan'topen."

"Oh for the love of-" Varric groaned. He dragged his hands down his face as if to wipe away his exhaustion. "Fine. I'll find someone who can get past amelteddoorknob."

Half an hour later, Varric found himself in front of Fenris's mansion. After six years of knowing the elf, he didn't bother knocking anymore. He pushed the door open with a low creak and strode across the main vestibule. He knew the elf would be able
to tell who he was by his footsteps alone.

In Fenris' room, the hearth had a small but warm fire going, keeping the chill of the autumn air at bay. Fenris sat on a low stool cleaning his armor. He'd taken it all apart and laid it out on a sheet, leaving him in only his leggings. The firelight
reflected dully off his brown skin and glinted on his lyrium tattoos as he moved. He didn't look up from his work.

"What is it, Varric?" Fenris' low, even voice carried across the room. Varric stepped into the room and sat heavily on another stool, sighing.

"It's Hawke."

The warrior didn't look surprised. "You said that we should give her space, so we have," he pointed out. He twisted his cleaning cloth into a small knot and pried at some dirt in a crease of his armor. "A week is a short time to mourn the loss of her
mother."

"You're right, of course, I expect she'll never really get over it, but that's not what has me worried." Varric leaned forward and steepled his fingers. "She's not eating. I assume she's drinking, since she has that bathroom attached to her room, but
she can't survive on water alone."

Fenris lifted the piece he had been cleaning and examined it carefully, then set it aside, evidently satisfied. He picked up another piece and began cleaning again. "So pick the lock. I assume she's locked herself inside, yes? Surely you're a better fit
for that than I."

"She's melted the damn doorknob. I couldn't pick that lock if I tried," the dwarf explained. Fenris' hands paused and for the first time the men's eyes met.

"She melted…the doorknob."

"So I'm told."

"Perhaps it's just me, but something about a doorknob being melted to prevent entry says 'leave me alone'," the elf said lightly, resuming his work.

Varric spread his hands entreatingly. "Normally, you'd be right. But like I said, she's not eating. And making sure she doesn't make herself ill weighs a little more heavily than respecting her privacy, no matter how much she deserves it right now. Desperate
times, right?"

Fenris let out a longsuffering sigh. "I suppose you want me to try and get past it? What am I supposed to do, kick the door down?"

"Youarethe only one here who can phase through material at will," Varric chuckled, but his smile slid off his face as quickly as it had appeared. "As it is, I think you're the only one who will be able to reach her if she's as bad as I worry
she is. Not just physically, but on an emotional level. You're the only person who she's fallen in l-" The dwarf was cut off by an icy glare from the elf. Varric held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, fine, never mind. But if you still care for
her, even after leaving her like you did, then I know you'll help." Varric stood and brushed imaginary dust off his pants, then turned and strode away. He only paused at the doorway to look back briefly. "That's all I had to say." Then, he was gone.

Fenris returned his gaze to the piece of armor in his hands, and set it down with a sigh. He couldn't deny that he'd thought about going to see her long before now, but he didn't feel like his presence would be welcome. Their falling-out following their
night spent together had hurt Hawke deeply, no matter how much she acted as if everything were alright. She hadn't been avoiding him, but she hadn't sought him out for anything. He missed her deeply, but he also recognized that space is what she needed.
It happened to work well that he'd needed some space afterwards, too.

The memory surfaced of the following morning, when he'd shown up at her door with guilt in his heart and an apology on his lips. He knew she was hoping for him to take back his hasty words from the night before, and he had been deeply sorry to disappoint
her. The light had faded from her eyes as he explained that he wasn't emotionally ready to commit to the kind of relationship that she wanted. That had hurt even more than the feeling of all his memories slipping once more from his grasp.

But perhaps Varric was right, Fenris mused to himself as he pulled on his leather jerkin and buttoned it shut. Maybe he was the right man for this job, if nothing else.

Five minutes later, Bodahn let him inside Hawke Estate.

"Thank the ancestors you've come," the dwarf babbled nervously as he gestured up at Hawke's room. "I was beginning to worry that Master Tethras wasn't going to send anybody after all. Sandal, Orana, and I have all tried to convince her to come out of
there but we haven't heard so much as a peep in four days. And watch out for the mabari, he hasn't moved from her door since Mistress Leandra died. He won't let us close to the door anymore."

"Thank you for the warning," Fenris acknowledged with a nod, then headed up the stairs. The last time he'd gone up these stairs it had been when Hawke had led him up by the hand following their impromptu kiss against the foyer wall. Hawke had given a
nervous laugh when her giant red-curtained bed had come into sight and he'd swallowed her laugh with another kiss, softer this time but no less intense.

Fenris shook himself mentally, snapping his attention back to the present. Hawke's warhound, Kitty, lay curled in a ball by the closed bedroom door. He raised his massive head and stared warily at the elf.

"I'm here to see if I can help Hawke," Fenris said in a low voice. Kitty glared at him, apparently weighing to pros and cons of letting him close to his master, but eventually he let out a huff and slowly raised his bulk off the floor and stepped aside.

Fenris raised his hand and laid it on the doorknob. Sure enough, it was crooked and warped where it had been partially melted. He looked down and spotted shiny spots on the carpet where the molten metal had dripped and solidified again in the carpet.
He turned his concentration to activating the lyrium that ran in the grooves carved into his skin all those years go.

His fingertips glowed pale blue and hazy, and slid through the metal as if it were made of vapor. He felt around for where the locking mechanism would be and heard asnickas the metal snapped under his touch. Fenris withdrew his hand, the glow
fading away, and pulled open the now-ajar door.