It was the morning after the fight with the Arishok and Fenris lay insensate on the bed in Anders's clinic. The stubborn elf had thrown himself between Hawke and the Qunari at the very end, which caused enough of a distraction to ensure Hawke's victory.
The price had been high. The Arishok's massive sword had cleaved Fenris from shoulder to hip and Anders had felt a surge of panic that he might lose the elf. It had taken several hours and all of Anders's skill before he was certain his patient would live.
He had resorted to deception to convince Fenris to allow him to work. Even in his delirious state, the elf had resisted every attempt to use magic on him. In the end, Anders had made the elf drink a sleeping potion - he had claimed it to be a new type of healing potion.
"Damn you, Fenris! Did you have to act all heroic? I don't mind mending you, but next time, don't try so hard to die on me, will you? Life would be so...empty without you." Anders voice dropped to a whisper at the end. Although he was alone with the elf in the clinic, he was too self-conscious to speak his feelings aloud.
Anders reached out a hand and ran it through the silky white hair, still damp with sweat. Fenris doesn't like to be touched, he thought to himself. If he had been awake he would, in all likelihood, have snarled something angry and pushed Anders away.
Anders allowed his hand to trail lower, to the bandaged shoulder which stuck out from under the sheet and paused there for a moment. Apart from small glimpses when he had been injured, Anders had not known Fenris to bare his skin to anyone. His fingers traced a lazy path along the white tendrils of lyrium which were visible from under the bandages. Anders stilled as Fenris stirred in his sleep, an unconscious reaction to pull away from the touch.
Does it hurt you? What did they do to you to make touch so abhorrent to you? I could never hurt you, if you were mine. I wouldn't - if you were mine…
Anders stopped, shocked at the intensity of the thoughts. He'd not considered that his own feelings ran so deep for Fenris. As his mind tried to adjust itself to the revelation, his hand returned to stroke the soft skin of Fenris's shoulder while his eyes drank in the form of the elf asleep before him.
I should hate you; Maker knows you hold no affection towards me.
His gaze returned to the elf's face and Anders was startled to see Fenris awake. Green eyes stared back at him with reproach and Anders snatched his hand back.
"You used magic to heal me."
It was a statement, not a question nor an accusation but Anders felt ashamed anyway. But he didn't say anything about me touching him...
"I - I had to. You were too badly injured to fix with a poultice. I am sorry."
Fenris's hand raised to his shoulder as though he could feel the mage's hand there, though he made no comment.
"Right. Well. When you feel you are well enough, you can go. Just don't go and swing that over-sized sword of yours just yet - I'd hate to see my good work ruined."
"Thank you… Anders."
It was the first time Fenris called him by his name.