The Scions of Seheron
When dire circumstances force Anders & Fenris to work together, they slowly learn to see each other in a new light.
In the tropical north, they embark on a journey they never imagined possible.
M!Hawke/Fenris, M!Hawke/Anders, eventual Anders/Fenris.
Characters are the property of Bioware and EA.
Chapter 1: Claim
Anders watched in silence as Hawke and Fenris walked side-by-side a short distance ahead. More and more, the two had taken to casually excluding Anders and Varric from their conversations, especially on expeditions outside of the city proper, like their current excursion along the Wounded Coast with Kirkwall still at least two hours away. The sun was barely visible over the horizon, painting the sky crimson and titian in its fading light. Though Anders never liked the normally bone-white color of Fenris's hair, he grudgingly admitted that at moments like these, it became an almost entrancing palette for the warm hues of dusk.
Hawke's fingers seemed to brush against Fenris's every few steps. The two men never held hands in public, but that didn't stop Anders from burning with jealousy as he imagined them doing so. It just didn't make sense to him how Fenris was at the Champion's side, rather than him. Anders knew it was uncharitable in the extreme to feel this way, given the path he had set himself upon. If all went according to plan, the Kirkwall Chantry would be no more and Anders knew that his death would be an almost certain punishment. To lie to a lover in such a way, and then to leave him in such a fashion... it wasn't fair to want that for Hawke, but as Anders glared at Fenris, he reminded himself that life wasn't fair in the least.
The blond apostate's eyes were so intent on shooting daggers at Fenris that the large piece of driftwood ahead of him went completely unnoticed. It caught his right foot and the immediate shuffle with his left only worsened his balance. With a yelp of surprise, Anders stumbled forward, and even though Varric's arm shot out to help, it was too late and the mage fell to the ground. Though they were not on the beach proper, it was still quite sandy on the trail. As Anders put his hands out to break his fall, both slipped on the loose granules, and he soon found himself with a mouthful of grit.
"And I was just about to ask if we should set up camp or walk through the night," Hawke said with laughter in his voice. Anders struggled onto all fours, then spat the sand out of his mouth before wiping his lips with the back of one hand.
"Agreed. There's no need for useless fumbling in the dark," Fenris's deep, gravelly voice caused Anders to lift his head again. When their eyes met, the corner of the elf's lips curled into a smug expression of amusement. Anders began to blush.
"Well, I'll be fumbling in the dark later, and it will not be useless," Hawke promised the elf with a waggle of his brows. Fenris and Anders both rolled their eyes. Varric snorted.
"Get a room, you two," the dwarf huffed as he extended a hand to Anders. Hawke chuckled, while Fenris only grunted, before both turned away to look for a suitable campsite.
"Thank you," Anders said as his hand grasped Varric's. The dwarf glanced over at Hawke and Fenris. When he judged them far enough away, he turned back to Anders.
"You're far more sure-footed when you're not busy boring holes in the elf's back with your eyes," Varric warned gently.
"And you're far more tolerable company when you mind your own business," Anders snapped. Part of him wanted to take back the harsh words, but he just couldn't bring himself to apologize.
"Fair enough, Blondie. But don't say I never warned you," Varric said with a sigh.
Anders chewed glumly at the strip of dried mutton. Just when he thought he had rid himself of the last bit of grit in his mouth, his teeth scraped against a grain of sand. The apostate was so frustrated that he spit the entire mouthful out, right into the campfire. The half-chewed meat sizzled and curled in on itself as it burned, but Hawke and Fenris, who were directly on the other side of the flame, didn't even notice. As usual, they were talking to each other in low tones, the sounds just shy of carrying the actual words to Anders's ears.
The blond apostate tried to watch the pair as surreptitiously as possible, but Fenris caught him looking several times. Anders had expected a sneer, or at the very least a knowing smirk, whenever their eyes met, but Fenris kept his expression neutral. Hawke only followed his lover's gaze once to peer across the fire, but otherwise he only had eyes for Fenris. The lack of open hostility emboldened Anders to watch them more closely, though he found himself studying his rival more than his objection of affection.
True smiles were still a rare occurrence on Fenris's face, but what usually amounted to a month's worth had already happened since they first sat down for their evening meal. Even though Anders continued to feel pangs of envy, an odd sort of curiosity stole over him. He knew Fenris had had a hard life, but usually the elf's constant brooding and caustic manner prevented Anders from feeling much sympathy. However, here in the warmth and light of the campfire, with Fenris actually smiling, Anders realized something that had never crossed his mind before.
"He's beautiful," Anders whispered to himself as the colors of flame danced along the elf's pale locks and glinted in the large, mirthful eyes.
"You should be eating your food instead of devouring Hawke with your eyes," Varric muttered. Anders was so startled that he almost choked on his food. He coughed and cleared his throat, drawing the lovers' attention from across the fire.
"Are you alright?" Fenris asked, an actual note of concern in his voice. Hawke turned to his lover with a raised brow, while Anders only blinked in silence. The tickle in his throat was still there, prompting the blond to cough, giving him an excuse to collect himself from the surprise of Fenris showing him anything other than bald hostility.
"Yes... I'm alright. Just ate a bit too fast for my own good. Thank you for asking," Anders replied tentatively. Satisfied with the answer, both Hawke and Fenris returned to their private conversation, but this time Anders was too embarrassed to spy on them, both from Fenris's unexpected kindness and Varric's accusation.
"If he only knew that wasn't meant for Hawke," Anders silently mused, mildly horrified that he had even thought of Fenris as attractive, let alone given voice to such ideas.
"I need to relieve myself," Fenris announced as he stood up from the fire.
"I'll come with you," Hawke said immediately.
"Hawke, I'm not a child. I can do such things on my own," Fenris rebuffed gently.
"And what if I need to relieve myself, as well?" Hawke retorted.
"Then you would have said as much from the start," the elf pointed out.
"But what about all that fumbling in the dark we talked about?"
"Exactly why you're staying here. I'd prefer to do my business in peace, thank you kindly," Fenris whispered, though Anders and Varric were able to hear the entire exchange. Anders pretended to look through his haversack, while Varric aggressively polished Bianca.
"Well, don't stray too far. We never did find those mercenaries-" Hawke began.
"And I doubt we will at this hour," Fenris interrupted with a smirk, then walked away from the light of the campfire. Anders was still shuffling items in his haversack, while Bianca's wood finish positively gleamed from Varric's attentions.
"You two can quit pretending you didn't hear all that," Hawke said loudly.
"La la la! Oh Bianca, my beautiful..." Varric sang, as if he hadn't heard Hawke at all.
"Perhaps if you could tone down the pillow talk..." Anders began, but Varric attempted to drown his words out.
"Oh Bianca, the beautiful!" Varric sang louder.
"... we wouldn't have to pretend," Anders continued, undeterred by the dwarf's distraction. Hawke narrowed his eyes and was about to respond, when all three adventurers heard shouting nearby.
"Fenris!" Hawke yelled in fear and leaped up, with Anders and Varric only a split-second behind him. A short distance away, Anders could see Fenris from the glow of his lyrium brands which gave the elf the look of a ghostly apparition. There were several figures dressed in black surrounding Fenris, though two of them were already on the ground, having been struck down by the immense sword that the elf held aloft.
The mercenaries realized their mistake in attacking the quartet far too late. Bolts from Bianca whistled through the air while fire and lightning from the two mages lit up the night. Their foes were severely outmatched and succumbed quickly under combined assault. Two of the six men surrendered and were promptly knocked unconscious by the pommel of Fenris's sword in quick succession.
"Amateurs. Messing with us is suicide," Varric scoffed as he ran over with lengths of rope to bind the surviving mercenaries for interrogation later.
"So what was that about not finding any mercenaries at this hour? They almost caught you with your pants down!" Hawke joked as he ran over to his lover, who was panting from exertion.
"Hawke," Fenris said faintly, before sinking to the sand.
"Anders!" Hawke shouted, though the healer was already running over. The brunet mage waved his staff and created a bright mote of light above his lover, illuminating the elf's wounds.
Most of the cuts were quite shallow, but there was a deep, bloody gouge on his inner thigh. This was the part that Anders hated the most about his position as a healer. There were moments, when the wounds were so deep that he had to put his hands on a companion, and as the front line fighter, that was Fenris more often than not. Anders had plenty of experiencing touching him, but it didn't get any easier.
"This might sting a little. The artery was severed. Honestly, I don't know how you continued to fight with this wound," Anders said, impressed despite himself. Fenris was silent as Anders placed his hands on both sides of the wound. He almost pulled back when several of his fingers touched bare flesh through the large tear in Fenris's clothing. He looked up to find the elf glaring at him, the familiar look of loathing back on his face. Fenris had always hated magic being used on him, even for healing. It took all of Anders's self-control not to remark on that, though a part of him felt a measure of relief. This was Fenris at his most predictable. This was far easier to deal with than the strange elf who smiled and showed Anders a shred of concern.
The reluctant healer's palms began to glow with a soft blue light that was remarkably similar in hue to the glow that Fenris's tattoos emitted when active. How had he never noticed that before? Anders shook the random thought from his mind and set himself back to his task. With powerful words of magic, the light from his hands grew brighter and the flesh beneath began to mend before his eyes. Fenris began to pull away from his touch, but Anders maintained contact, despite his own eagerness to end it.
"I'm not done, stop moving," Anders demanded harshly. Fenris obeyed silently, though he continued to glare. After a few more seconds, with Anders pushing a tad more roughly than strictly necessary, he said, "there. As good as new." Fenris was silent, not that Anders expected anything more.
"You're welcome," Anders said loudly as stepped up and away from Fenris.
"Thank you Anders," Hawke offered instead of the elf, who got up silently and began to walk back toward the the campfire.
"Do you mean it?" Anders asked.
"Of course I do," Hawke reached over to touch Anders's shoulder but the other mage pulled away.
"Then prove it. Help me find the sela petrae," Anders demanded.
"Anders..."
"You said you would think about it. I'd like my answer now." He found it quite easy to transfer the anger he felt for the ungrateful elf toward the man who aided and abetted the behavior.
"Is there truly no other way to find it outside of the sewers?" Hawke groaned.
"None."
"Ugh, the things I do for you," Hawke grunted.
"If only..." Anders thought to himself.
Fenris gasped again as he stepped into something unsavory. Varric chuckled at his side, but up ahead, Anders rolled his eyes.
"I would expect a warrior to have a stronger stomach. He's worse than an Orlesian dame," the blond quipped to his fellow mage.
"We are in the sewers. I would expect a healer to be less enthused about trudging through such filth," Hawke grimaced and coughed at the smell.
"Anything for Justice and I to be separated once more," Anders reminded him. "Anyway, it's his fault for not having proper footwear. He could have worn sandals at the very least," the blond scoffed. He couldn't help but grin when he heard Fenris curse again behind him. Anders glanced back, then satisfied at the distance, he turned to Hawke. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped and reconsidered.
"You look like a fish gasping for breath. Something on your mind?" Hawke raised a brow at his companion.
"I... well..." Anders uncharacteristically stuttered.
"The suspense is killing me," Hawke smirked and crossed his arms. Anders took a deep breath to steel his nerves, despite the stench of the sewers.
"I know it is not in my place to criticize, but... are you sure about Fenris?" Anders asked as calmly as he could manage. "He seems less a man to me than a wild dog," the blond mage added pointedly. Hawke's brows furrowed.
"You just don't know him," Hawke retorted with a shake of his head. Something about the tone dug at Anders, as if he were a child being reprimanded.
"I know as much as I'm ever likely to," Anders shot back.
"That's right, mage," Fenris snarled as he came around the corner to stand next to Hawke. Anders was startled, but managed not to let it show with anything other than a glare at the elf. His eyes shifted slightly to the elf's hair. He entertained the gleeful thought of tossing a pile of manure onto those annoyingly immaculate white locks. Emboldened by the image, he cut his eyes away from the baleful green stare and continued the conversation with Hawke as if Fenris wasn't there.
"He has let one bad experience color his whole world. Surely you want someone more openminded," Anders stated with a huff. Hawke sighed, but before he could respond, Fenris cut in.
"A mage and a hypocrite. What company you keep," the elf growled.
"Why do you tolerate that? You're every bit a mage as I am, and yet you let him say the word as if it is a curse."
"Anders, not now," Hawke replied with a shake of his head.
"It is a curse," Fenris spat, but he lowered his gaze at the look that got from his lover.
"Now, now boys, let's just get what we came for and then get out of this stinking mess!" Varric chimed in. "Bianca needs her beauty sleep and so do I!"
"Agreed," Anders hissed with a final look at Fenris before he turned away and quickened his steps.
"Just two drops in the baby's ear each day. Once in the morning and once at night," Anders instructed the woman before him, the infant in question resting in the cradle of her left arm. She nodded as she took the vial from the healer, then gave her thanks and shuffled out of the clinic. Anders sighed and rubbed at a knot in his shoulder. He then let out a hearty yawn and set about his closing routine. Various tinctures and herb bundles were locked away and then the clinic floor was given a brisk sweep. He hummed as he did his work, then smiled as he glanced at hidden nook at the far wall where he had hidden his stash of sela petrae. His smile faltered however as he thought of Hawke. On several occasions, Anders had almost spilled his secret to his fellow apostate, but each time, thoughts of the damned elf had intruded. If Hawke could be with... with that mage-hater... what hope did Anders have of making him understand the necessity of his task?
"No. No one must ever know until the task is done," Anders muttered to himself as he stored the broom in the closet and turned to the final step in his nightly ritual. He fished out a small bowl from the counter with one hand and took hold of a large silver flask with the other. He eyed the metal container for a moment and grinned. The hawker who sold it to him swore that it kept milk fresher for longer, and despite his skepticism, it had certainly exceeded expectations. Anders opened the door, then stooped down and began to fill the clay bowl with milk. He wished he could also use a silver bowl, but he knew better than to leave anything of the sort out in the open in Darktown. Just as he replaced the stopper at the top of the flask, he saw a shadow pull away from the rest to his right. His breath caught for a moment, before he realized that it was just a black cat. It didn't even look at him as it rushed to the milk bowl.
"Why, hello there!" Anders said with delight as he watched the cat lap up the milk. He stood away, afraid he might startle it, but it soon had its fill and sat back to regard him with large, topaz-colored eyes. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," Anders cooed as he knelt a few feet away and extended his hand. The large cat blinked, then rushed over. It purred and brushed its cheek roughly against his hand. From the size, Anders had assumed it was a tomcat, but a quick glance at the hindquarters revealed a molly instead. "You're a big girl, yes you are!" Anders said with a chuckle as she began to weave between his legs, purring up a storm. He was so intent on the cat that he hadn't noticed the footsteps approaching the clinic until bare feet tattooed with lyrium entered his field of vision.
"Fenris!" Anders said with a gasp as he stood up. The sudden movement sent the cat to bolting back into the shadows, causing the blond mage to curse. The elf just glared silently, the flame of the clinic's wall sconce dancing in the green, glinting eyes. Anders looked past Fenris's shoulder, then back at the elf when he saw no one else there. "Where's Hawke?"
"He's mine." The elf's gravelly voice rumbled. Anders didn't like the wild look in Fenris's face. However, his tongue would not be stayed.
"Is that what that ridiculous red strap on your wrist is all about? And what is that thing you have tied up in it?" Anders said with a sneer. The elf's expression grew even more hateful as he took a step forward, forcing the blond mage to step back.
"He is mine," Fenris repeated.
"Yes, yes, I think you've already established that," Anders shot back, though his voice began to tremble.
"Surely you want someone more openminded," Fenris growled as he repeated the words Anders had uttered to Hawke earlier. "It's pathetically obvious who that someone is."
"What's pathetically obvious is that you can't handle a bit of competition," Anders retorted.
"Competition?" Fenris scoffed and then began to laugh. "You consider yourself competition?"
"Well apparently you do, otherwise you wouldn't be here," Anders pointed out with a self-satisfied smirk. "You hate that Hawke and I share something that you never will. As much as you like to gloss over it, Hawke is a mage, just like me-"
"He is nothing like you!" Fenris raged and his lyrium brands flashed. Anders sorely wished he had brought his staff outside with him. "You are an abomination!" The elf fumed. Both the warrior and the mage said nothing more for a moment, their harsh breath the only sound between them.
"If you're done with your territorial pissing, I'd like to retire for the night," Anders said as calmly as possible.
"If you ever again attempt to make a claim on him, you will be sorry," Fenris said in a calm voice that chilled Anders far more than the elf's normally heated tone. And yet again, Anders couldn't help but respond despite all instincts to the contrary.
"Is that a warning?"
"It's a promise," Fenris hissed before turning on his heels and walking briskly away. Anders stood staring into the darkness for a moment, before slumping against the clinic door. He shook from the tension, then cursed at how afraid the elf could make him feel. With an embarrassed grunt, he pulled himself together and opened the door to the clinic, only to gasp in fright as something raced between his legs.
"Maker's breath!" Anders said with a chuckle as he spied the black cat making herself at home in the clinic, sniffing here and there, with an occasional look his way. "Are you hungry, girl?"
"Mrrrrow!"
"I'll take that as a yes," Anders said with a shake of his head as he locked the door behind him and began to search for something proper for her to eat.
