Summary: Fenris hates Anders; he's made it clear on many occasions. If, however, he takes a fancy to Anders all of a sudden- well, obviously the Mage is to blame. Includes broody Fenris and amused Anders.
Rated: K+ Cuz Fenris is a jerk :P
A/N: I apologize if there are any errors in story line or details in this; I've only seen the game played, and only seen less than half of it. I planned on starting a game, but this idea got stuck in my head and I had to write it first. Again, my apologies, if there are errors please ignore them.
Mages were sneaky, deceptive creatures. Everyone knew that. They were not to be trusted, and Fenris had made it his mission to trust none.
He was forced to admit to himself that not all mages were bad. But, as he once said to Hawke, he would rather make the mistake of expecting the worst from all than make the mistake of expecting the best. Far less collateral damage in the end. All mages should be watched, and even if Hawke disagreed, Fenris would see to it that he kept an eye on the mages in his company.
Which meant keeping a close eye on Anders.
Anders was particularly frustrating. He seemed so impervious to the common weaknesses of other mages; he wished not for more power, or vengeance for past wrong-doings, or even the foolish desires of everyday beings. He was calm and collected most of the time. The few times he raised his voice or threw his hands up in the air in anger never ceased to raise the fine hair on the Elf's arms. His eyes narrowed and he conspicuously reached for his sword, preparing to defend his party against a demon at any moment.
But Anders wasn't normal. He'd simply shake his head and sigh, or roll his eyes and walk away. Once, Fenris saw him brush his fingers sharply through his red locks and grab at them, as if wanting to pull them out, but he merely closed his eyes and let his hand drop to his side.
He seemed determined to defy every stereotype Fenris had ever heard about mages, and he was succeeding. But only temporarily. Fenris would not make the mistake of trusting a mage, even one as tame and well-meaning as Anders.
As time passed, he continued to watch the mage diligently, secretly protecting his allies from the unseen forces of evil that Anders was undoubtedly unleashing upon him. He considered himself a sacrifice to his allies; as long as Anders focused all his demonic energy on Fenris, the others were safe. Fenris would have to live with the consequences of this choice, but he would die a martyr. For, surely, he would die from this feeling building inside of him.
Fenris watched each day as Anders threw up his red-brown waves into a messy, convenient pony tail, watched as he adjusted his armor and splashed water over his face. He watched day by day, when their journey became more rigorous, and noticed the light stubble overcoming his face. He noticed the way the muscles in his arms flexed whenever he stuck his arms out to use magic.
And as he watched, he changed.
He began to sense a certain protectiveness toward the man, a fear when he was in danger. At first he summed it up to his determination to protect his allies, but soon realized that he didn't feel one-tenth as worried for the others' safety as he did for Anders. He became fascinated by the very appearance of the man, and felt a longing for him when he was away.
No, Fenris was no stranger to longings of the heart. He knew this feeling, and he knew who was to blame.
Anders clearly did this to him. He put a spell of some sort on him because he knew that Fenris' watch would be weakened by his softened view of the mage. He had found Fenris' weakness and, true to the mage in him, had turned his opponent (of sorts) in to a helpless target.
"Might I ask what you are laughing at?' Fenris asked, his voice strained by annoyance and need. The man in question was shaking slightly with laughter across the small room where the group was resting for the night.
"It is nothing, Elf. Do not trouble yourself. Your wary eyes must have so much more to pay attention to than a mere mage," he laughed, shaking his head as a blush crept over the Elf's face. Fenris grabbed at his sword quickly and began sharpening it.
"Of course I have, mage." Anders eyed the sword and laughed harder before he lay down on the make-shift bed with his back facing Fenris. The Elf watched his body expand and contract in slow, deep motions, interrupted only by the occasional fast shaking of his shoulders that let the Elf know that the man was still laughing at him.
Fenris curled up on his own bed, his lips turned so far down that he was beginning to think his face would remain this way forever. Yes, he had taken a romantic interest in Anders. But it wasn't real. It couldn't be real. It must be a spell.
Because Fenris would never willingly fall for a mage.
So, what did you think? Again, I apologize if there are any inaccuracies with info. Please tell me what you thought! If you like this I may write more for this pairing once I start my own game :) Please review!