Author's Note: I thought the canon options for how Hawke can respond to Anders' comments about Fenris in Justice were far too polite, considering the sort of things that Anders is saying about Fenris. Cue this fic. Anders fans be warned, this is very Anders critical.

I'd like to thank gothic-princess-witch and amata-hawke, both on Tumblr, for inspiring this fic with their own works!

It had been a long time since Artur had had much patience in him for Anders.

He couldn't say he'd ever particularly trusted the man, what with the whole being-an-abomination thing and his radical stances on the Circle and the templars. Their entire relationship had been marked by endless disagreements about the subject, many of which had ended on very ominous notes that had become even more so as the years had dragged on. They'd never been able to convince each other of anything, but that hadn't stopped them from trying. Then there had been the incident with Ella—thankfully, Artur had managed to save her, but all it had done was prove to him that Anders was far too dangerous to be left unmonitored, and certainly too dangerous to be trusted. And that was before he got into the way Anders spoke to some of their companions, which often left Artur highly uncomfortable. In truth, the only high point in their relationship had been when Anders had saved Carver's life in the Deep Roads, for Artur's gratitude had been deep and abiding. But that was six years ago, and even that feeling had long since faded.

Nevertheless, even if he deeply distrusted Anders and was starting to heavily dislike him, Artur was still going to look out for him as a member of the group. When he had visited Anders in his clinic today and learned that Anders had discovered the formula for a potion that might separate him and Justice without harming either, Artur had been genuinely relieved, and he had readily agreed to help him find the ingredients that were needed. He hoped that without Justice, Anders might no longer be a threat—or less of one than he already was by virtue of being a mage—and might even be a better person. His thought was that Anders had the potential, but he couldn't be with that demon in him. Remove the demon, and who knew how he might change.

They'd gone out to look for the sela petrae first, of course, since it was much closer at hand and the Bone Pit would take several days to get to. Merrill and Varric were accompanying them; Artur wasn't sure if it was wise to have brought Merrill along, considering the way Anders treated her, but he had no idea where Isabela was today, Aveline was on duty, and at least last he'd checked, Fenris and Sebastian were at the Chantry together. He wasn't about to interrupt that for Anders, so Merrill and Varric were the only choices he'd had.

Artur wrinkled his nose at the stench as they clambered down into the sewers and, for the thousandth time, felt personally glad that he had his mask. Of course, blocking inconvenient smells was not his mask's primary purpose, but it was an added benefit, and judging from the way Varric was also wrinkling his nose, the unfiltered odour of the sewers was particularly repugnant—as one might expect. Artur took a deep breath through his mouth and began to step further into the sewers, Anders walking at his side. As usual, he looked troubled, but by this point, Artur was so used to it that he didn't even ask. Frankly, he didn't need to.

They weren't that far in when Anders suddenly stopped and turned to him, an inscrutable expression on his face. He opened his mouth but then closed it again, visibly hesitating.

"What is it?" Artur asked mildly, raising an eyebrow.

Anders shifted awkwardly on his feet and briefly dropped his gaze, his eyes darting around before he looked at him again. "Ah… look… I…" he began. He swallowed, then seemed to steel himself while Artur's eyebrow climbed further up his forehead. Eventually, Anders continued. "I know it isn't my place to criticise, but… are you sure about Fenris?"

Artur's brow sunk back down, furrowing over his eyes while he frowned behind his mask. He gave Anders a quizzical look. "What do you mean?" His tone was neutral, cautiously probing. Artur had always been careful on the subject of Fenris around Anders and vice-versa, knowing how much the two loathed each other, and he'd always been there to step in when their arguments had got out of hand. Lately, however, ever since that night a few days after the fateful encounter with Danarius and Varania, Artur had dropped his previous pretence to neutrality. He knew Anders didn't appreciate it, but he didn't much care. Still, for the time being, without Fenris present and not knowing what Anders meant, Artur saw no reason not to be patient with him.

"He seems less a man to me than a wild dog," Anders said.

Artur stared at him. For half a moment, he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "Wild—what?" he repeated incredulously.

But then that half a moment passed, and Artur remembered Danarius' arrogant, condescending, faux-affable demeanour in the Hanged Man and the horrible, horrible way he'd addressed Fenris—"Oh, how little you know, my pet." He remembered, as well, what it was that Fenris' name meant—little wolf—and how it was a name that Danarius had specifically bestowed upon him to mark him as his. He remembered the few degradations that Fenris had opted to tell him about that he had endured, the terrible implications that some of Danarius' words had carried that made Artur physically sick to think about, and how he'd been, in general, little more than Danarius' attack animal and his property, not even a person. He remembered, and he wanted to help Fenris kill the magister all over again for it and let him tear Varania's heart out a second time for her ingratitude, her unforgivable betrayal.

And Anders dared to call him a wild dog and say he was less than a man.

Artur's hands clenched into fists, and he could feel lightning sparking in the palms as he glared at Anders, his grey eyes gone hard and dark as a storm cloud. How did Anders dare—the nerve of him—and how cowardly, when Fenris wasn't even here to defend himself. Well, never mind that; Fenris wasn't here, but Artur most definitely was, and he would not let this stand.

But Anders, fool as he was, kept talking, apparently not noticing the fury in Artur's gaze. "He has let one bad experience colour his whole world," he said, so thoughtlessly. "Surely, you want someone more open-minded."

Once again, Artur was temporarily rendered mute as disbelief overtook his anger. This time, it ran somewhat longer as his mind processed that he had heard Anders correctly and that Anders had actually said that at all.

One bad experience. Artur didn't think he'd ever heard so something so insulting simply by virtue of its sheer stupidity in his entire life. And that was just to start with. To try to tell Artur what he wanted, to claim that he was more open-minded than Fenris when the opposite seemed to be true, to reduce the utter horror that had been Fenris' life under Danarius to one bad experience and to have no empathy for him whatsoever—it was beyond what Artur had the words for. How could Anders be so blind, so—? And all because of what? His jealousy? His entitlement to the affection that could never have been his? This got worse by the minute.

"One bad—" he started to repeat, then stopped, deciding that the best tactic was to say the same thing to Anders and see how he responded. Artur knew that nothing would get through Anders' terminally thick skull, but he had to try. "As have you, Anders."

To his complete lack of surprise, Anders' hackles immediately rose, and he glared at him in turn. "How can you say that?" he demanded. "You have no idea, even after all this time, what the Circle is like! That was not—"

He didn't see it. Of course, he didn't see it. Artur shook his head furiously. "And slavery was? Are you seriously telling me that living in the most liberal Circle in southern Thedas was worse than a lifetime of slavery under an unbelievably cruel magister of Tevinter? You mean to say that that was one bad experience, but your life in the Circle was not? You—you hypocritical, small-minded, myopic—" He shook his head again, words once more temporarily failing him.

But before Anders could start up again and let even more bile drip out of his mouth, Artur managed to continue. "And more open-minded? Are you kidding? If Fenris were as close-minded as you claim, explain why I'm involved with him! I'm a mage, and in point of fact, I'm grey-eyed and favour lightning magic just like Danarius was and did, but Fenris still trusts me to touch him, to never hurt him! He recognises that not all mages are as Danarius was, while you—I cannot say the same for you and the templars! So, don't you think you're projecting onto him just a little, Anders?" Here, his voice turned into a sneer, and he lifted his head to look down his nose at Anders, who appeared—well, 'affronted' was the best word for it.

Of course, he did. People like him never learnt; they just went on the defensive and buried their heads in the sand, actively refusing to listen.

"I suppose it doesn't matter," Artur growled. "It's not like you'll listen; you never did. But—" And here he suddenly stepped closer to Anders, much closer than he had ever got before, almost getting in the other mage's face; Ander's eyes went wide with alarm. Artur raised his staff and held it before him, distinctly threatening. "If you ever again call him a wild dog or anything like that or say that he seems less than a man to you, so help me, I will break this staff over your head. Or maybe I'll let Fenris do what he likes with you; that would be something to see. Or maybe both. Do I make myself clear?"

Thankfully, Anders still seemed to have the good sense to know when he was being threatened. He nodded once, and all his offence had gone from his expression.

Artur stepped back, breathing heavily and still glaring. "Good," he said shortly. "Damn right it's not your place to criticise. If you don't want to be left down here to gather the ingredients for that potion yourself, shut your bloody face. Now, let's get moving so that we can find the sela petrae and you can get on with making your potion. Maybe having Justice gone will remake you into the semi-decent person I half-remember you used to be."

With that, he stalked off, hands trembling with anger and Anders shaken and sulking behind him.

Artur was staring morosely into the fireplace when he heard the door open. Since no knock preceded it, he knew who it was, but he didn't look up, even as that person entered the room and began to approach him. His hands were clenched tightly together, and his every muscle was tense from the stress of the week and what had happened today.

"What's wrong?" Fenris asked him, coming to sit down next to him.

"It's Anders," Artur said, sighing. He leant back in the chair. "I'm getting heartily sick to death of him."

"I'm only surprised it took you so long to say that," Fenris said drily. Artur chuckled, but the sound was short and somewhat forced. "What happened?"

Artur began to explain. "It seemed like a good idea, you know—remove that blasted demon from him, make him less of a threat than he already is," he said.

Fenris nodded slowly. "Yes, I understand that. It doesn't sound like him to have had such an idea, however," he said.

Artur grimaced and looked back into the fireplace. "I should have realised that. Well, we went into the sewers to get the sela petrae, and what's the first thing he does? Just to really get on my good side? He asks me about you, says you've let, and I quote, 'one bad experience colour your whole world'. Then he says you seem less a man to him than a wild dog!" His voice grew hard again with remembered anger, and his fingers tightened on his pants. Looking at Fenris, he saw a similar fury flash in his own eyes—a shadow of that which he had displayed when they had faced Danarius, but that it was at all comparable said everything.

"Of course, he did," Fenris muttered, shaking his head. To Artur, it seemed as if he was trying to act as if Anders' words were beneath him and unworthy of notice, but his grimace, the hard set of his jaw, and the look in his eyes suggested that they had struck closer to home than he was going to admit. Artur found himself seized by the desire to have hit Anders over the head with his staff when he'd had the chance, and he offered his hand. Fenris nodded once, and Artur gently rested his hand on his leg. After a few moments' hesitation, Fenris took it and laced their fingers together.

Eventually, he asked, "How did you respond?"

Artur sighed again. "I yelled at him for a few minutes, but I'm pretty sure he didn't listen. At least, he didn't until I got in his face and threatened to break my staff over his head if he ever said anything like that again. He went rather quiet after that."

Fenris chuckled, his anger beginning to dissipate. "Again, hardly a surprise. I would have liked to have seen his face."

"I doubt he'll do it again, the coward," Artur said. "If he does, I said I'd let you do whatever you pleased with him."

Fenris now appeared well pleased, and he let out another brief chuckle. "A tempting offer," he said. "But he's not worth my time. I appreciate that you let him have it, however." He lifted his free hand up to Artur's cheek and stroked it gently; Artur shivered slightly and smiled at him.

"I wasn't going to do anything else. I should have—Maker, I should have sworn at him in Tevene. Not that I know any Tevene. What's a good Tevene phrase for situations like that?"

Fenris' anger was now completely gone from his eyes, replaced wholly by mirth. Artur was endlessly glad to see that. "Vishante kaffas," he said. "It means 'you shit on my tongue'. It's commonly used to accuse people of lying. As you might imagine, it's employed rather often in the Imperial Senate."

Artur let out a surprised laugh. "That's brilliant," he said, almost exultantly. "I'll have to adopt that one from now on. Assuming I don't butcher the pronunciation."

Fenris smirked briefly, then dropped his hand from Artur's cheek. "It's perhaps less effective when people don't know what you're saying," he deadpanned. "But go on. What happened after that?"

Their demeanours quickly grew serious again as Artur continued his explanation. By the time he finished the story, the tension in his muscles had returned, and his grip on Fenris' hand had tightened greatly. Fenris, for his part, also looked concerned. "If you had suspicions about him from the moment he asked you to distract the grand cleric, surely you did not just leave it at that after you left his clinic."

"You're right, I didn't," Artur said. "I got Sebastian and Aveline and told them what had happened, and we went to the Gallows, where I told Cullen. He said the templars will be sending a force to apprehend Anders soon. Honestly, Fenris, the only reason I helped Anders at all was to lure him into a false sense of security, make sure he'll be less vigilant for when the templars come. I'm going to go back and talk to him tomorrow, just to be sure."

Fenris nodded and said, "Clever. Well, at least we won't have to put up with him much longer."

"Thank the Maker for that," Artur said. "But it's been a long day. Might I…?"

He stroked Fenris' shoulder with his hand. Fenris smiled and nodded again, and Artur leant over to rest his head on his shoulder while Fenris let go of his hand and wrapped his arm around his waist. Suddenly, everything else, from Anders and his idiocy to the world just outside the door, seemed very far away.

It all seemed so peaceful. Artur would have paid to never again hear such garbage from Anders as he had, and extra to never have heard it in the first place, but this, he thought, was worth any price. Was Anders worth worrying about when they had this?

He knew the answer to that one. He smiled, and if Fenris noticed him snuggle deeper into his shoulder and his chest, he didn't say anything. Moments like these, they didn't need to.