A/N: This is being written in response to a prompt on the Dragon Age Kink Meme, it's still a work in progress. The prompt asked for an AU story where Fenris runs to Ferelden instead of Kirkwall, and meets (Awakening) Anders on the road. Along the way, they will both learn things which challenge the way they think, and they will be developing feelings that they cannot deny. What happens at the denouement - when either of them gets caught? We shall see.

I don't have a beta as I am not sure how to go about getting one, so please be gentle!

As ever, this world is Bioware's, I am just playing in the sandbox.

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.

I hate and I love. Why I do this, perhaps you ask. I know not, but I feel it happening and I am tortured

[Catullus 85]

Andraste's knickerweasels, he had almost forgotten how cold that water was. Shuddering in his drenched underclothes, his robes bundled up in a sack tied to his waist, Anders crawled out of Lake Calenhad and dragged himself under an overhanging bush, teeth clashing together and tendrils of liquid ice pouring through his veins. He wished he had time to light a fire, but all he could do was hope that his clothes had escaped the worst of the wet in the oiled burlap sack he had hastily shoved them into, and that they would stop him from freezing to death at the least.

There had been a disturbance in the Tower that evening, one which had commanded the attention of both Knight-Commander Greagoir and the First Enchanter. Something to do with blood magic and an escaped apprentice, apparently. Anders doubted that apprentices would be capable of bringing the world to its knees, but he appreciated the distraction that the incident had caused. He had been on kitchen duty that night as part of the ongoing punishments meted out to him after his last escape – as if the twelve months in solitary confinement was not enough. He sometimes thought that having to work with Cook was worse. She was a florid faced harridan of a woman who enjoyed nothing more than tormenting those poor souls sent to work in the bowels of the Tower in the hot, dank kitchens. Luckily, she was also terribly nosy and a voracious gossip so as soon as the whispers came that a mage had escaped the Circle she scurried off to find out more, leaving Anders effectively unsupervised.

Mistake.

Anders knew that, by now, someone would have discovered that the blood mage apprentice was not the only prisoner to have slipped their shackles tonight. No doubt the Templars were out there looking for him already. He hoped that their ranks had been thinned out by the pursuit of the apprentice, and that this would increase his chances of getting well clear of the Tower and on his way to freedom.

He shrugged his damp, cold body into the damp, cold robes and hugged himself tightly, shivering. His skin hurt and his joints felt almost immobilised. He knew he had to press on, any hesitation now and he would find himself back in that gloomy, dark cell in the basement, not a soul to keep him company except Mr Wiggums. And, even then, only when the cat could be bothered. For all his joking about Cook, he simply could not countenance having to spend a single minute being even more alone.

Anders crept through the underbrush, trying to tread as lightly as possible but move as fast as he could on prickling, frozen feet. He knew it made little difference where he headed, only that he could not stop for long as they would be on his tail. Right now, he felt as if he would settle for making it until morning, to watch the sunrise. It had been so long.

Fenris scaled a tree in the Frostback Mountains and peered at his surroundings. Yes, this looked as good a place as any to stop. No signs of human life, just the occasional squirrel.

He still wasn't used to the freshness of the mountain air, the chill in the breeze. Since his escape two years ago, he had slowly made his way south, as far from Seheron and the Empire as he could get. He had travelled through Antiva, a bustling, colourful country which smelled of rotten meat and oil; and through the Free Marches, an area dominated by three noisy cities and farms. He had planned to stay in the southernmost city, Kirkwall, for a while as he had heard that mages were strictly controlled there, but when he arrived and saw just how many people were thronging the city gates he made a decision to stow away on a boat to Ferelden. There were rumours of a Blight in Ferelden, but he would rather take his chances with that than risk discovery by his former master.

He had been cursed by his master to suffer the unique looks created by the silvery lyrium markings branded into his tanned flesh. Such features made it impossible for him to blend into a crowd; he would be noticed, and therefore he had to be as far away from people as possible.

This mountainous region had been perfect for him. Hardly another being had he seen, except for the deer and squirrels he took for meat. Spring water was plentiful as well as melting ice from the crevasses in the mountainsides, and there were plenty of trees and caves to shelter him at night. It was cold, yes, but he was used to the cold. Even the bitterness of the stillest night felt sweet in freedom.

He used his belt to secure his leg to the tree and settled back against the bark to doze.

Four days. Four sunrises, four sunsets. Anders was cold and hungry but had begun to hope that he had got enough of a start that he might yet see a few more. He was just starting to allow himself to enjoy his surroundings and the freedom he was tasting, instead of the initial panic and fear that accompanied this, his seventh escape attempt.

He knew he was in the Frostback Mountains now, where he had never been before. It made no difference where he went or how well he hid, he knew they could find him. He was trying to make the most of the time he had, and to see as much of the land as he could. Last time, he had run towards Denerim and had grubbed a living in the back alleys of the city. That was the first time he had ever been offered a job – well, an honest job at least, if you could call it that. Not that he had accepted it, preferring to be a customer than an employee…

No such services here, amidst the towering rock and the gnarled and ancient trees that clung to it. A person could feel very alone in a place like this, Anders mused. He almost began to understand why the dwarves from nearby Orzammar were afraid of the unending sky. Anders, however, had known a loneliness far beyond that of the wilderness. For him, this landscape meant peace and beauty.

He had watched the sunset for too long, and darkness was falling. Shelter was needed now, it was to be a chill night. He tramped purposefully through the moss and the mulch, keeping his eyes focused on the rocky outcrops he was passing, looking for a likely cave or bolthole.

So intent on the land was he that he had not noticed the gathering of yellow-eyed hunters following his trail. They moved as one, soundlessly, behind him, waiting for the right moment to attack.

Anders felt his foot catch on a tree root, and his body tilt forward. He hit the ground hard, his breath leaving his body in a rush. Damn it. He began to push himself off the ground, stretching his limbs to check for injury, when he saw the wolves surrounding him, and froze.

Fenris was just slipping into dreams when he heard the noises from below. Peering down through the gloom of dusk, he was astonished to see a human male on the ground underneath the tree. His astonishment turned quickly into anxiety when he noticed the man's predicament. Without thinking, he slipped out of the belt which held him to the branch and scrabbled down the trunk, unsheathing his sword in one fluid movement as he hit the ground.

Fenris made no sound as he danced around the small clearing, wielding his sword before him. Within minutes, five wolves were dead and the remaining three had turned tail and fled into the darkness. He sheathed his weapon and turned to the man.

"Well. I am sure there is some explanation for this."