Chapter -4 – Jealously
Anders hadn't seen Fenris since the night in the Hanged Man. The elf not been far from his mind, but then again Fenris was never very far from Anders' thoughts. He'd wanted to go to see him, to talk about what had happened, but… he'd lusted after Fenris for so long, and to have him at last… or at least he hoped in part… He knew Fenris, and when he had something on his mind it was best to leave him to get on with it. He'd decided, though, he would go in a week. Any longer and he might just go mad with wondering… and with hearing Justice inform him that the elf was a distraction and to put him out of his thoughts. Luckily, Hawke had plenty of work on and Anders had been kept busy, well mostly busy, although the walking and waiting still gave him ample thinking time.
Hawke had come to see him at the clinic this morning, asking him to accompany him on a 'sensitive issue.' This usually meant mage related. Finishing up with his patients, he'd accompanied Hawke, glad for the chance to get out the city and spend time with his friend. From the first time they'd met over the Grey Warden maps, the two mages had formed a close bond of friendship. It had been Anders who comforted Hawke when his mother had been killed, staying at the mansion for a week, helping Hawke drink through his grief.
As attractive as both men were, they'd never felt any real attraction to one another. Hawke had a made a pass at Anders once when deep in his drink and grief and had attempted to kiss the other mage but… Anders had fallen for Fenris the first time he saw him walking down the steps into the Alienage. It wasn't just the way he looked, or that when he spoke Anders' insides had just about melted at that deep voice, although that had grabbed him at the time. It was the wounded bird quality. That underneath this fearsome warrior was a hurt and lonely man. It just broke Anders' heart, and as much as he desired the elf, he also wanted Fenris to be happy. In some ways he was like another mage who he wanted to rescue, except he wasn't held prisoner by Templars, but by his own tormented past…or lack of it. Thinking of Fenris' lack of memories, Anders mused that the elf must feel like a lost child.
Walking the coastal path back into Kirkwall, the two mages were in deep conversation. The sun was going down, setting the sea aflame with colour. Shadows cast on the path from the rocky sides of Sundermount made it necessary to carefully watch the footing. Pausing to examine an Elfroot plant, Cailan Hawke stared at Anders, a look of worry on his face. "Do you really think we did the right thing letting them all go?"
Anders looked back at him, considering for a moment before he spoke. "There was no choice. What else could we have done? Let the Templars take them all? But we could have done with more help. Merrill, or better still Fenris or Aveline, I'm drained."
Hawke reached in his bag and threw Anders a lyrium potion. "Easier said than done. We may have been dealing with blood mages, and I really don't need the disapproval from Fenris, especially on mage related matters." Grinning Hawke continued, "Mind you, I hear Fenris isn't complaining about all mages anymore." Pale green eyes twinkling, he stood, arms crossed, staring at Anders, waiting for a response.
Anders glared up at his friend opposite. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, just that I hear you and Fenris have been getting close recently." Hawke's grin was huge.
Anders stood staring at Hawke. He is so cocky, thought Anders, standing there, massive grin on his face. Not for the first time he thought on just how attractive his friend was. Green eyes set into lightly tanned skin, his dark blonde hair blowing around his face in the breeze, turning bright gold as the sun caught it. It would be so much easier if he wanted Cailan instead of Fenris.
"If you weren't so cute I'd roast you for that." He made a mock glare as he flicked a small fireball at Hawke.
Hawke dismissed the fireball with a wave of his hand. "Seriously, what's going on? I've caught you a couple of times looking, and why not? Fenris is stunning… but… he's not what you need."
"And what do I need? Please don't say you!" Anders said sarcastically, starting to walk along the path
"Piss off. You're too much hard work. And anyway, I'm seeing someone." He blew at a kiss at Anders. "You're like the two most messed up people I know. Hooking up, if Fenris even goes that way… potion of disaster."
Grabbing at the 'kiss' and pretending to tuck it in his pocket, Anders couldn't help but brag a little. "Well… if the way he kissed me and the bulge in his leggings was a indicator, I'd say Fenris does definitely go that way."
Hawke came to a sudden halt. "Really!" staring at Anders. "Whoa, all Varric said was…"
"Oh I should of guessed this came from Varric," Anders interrupted. "And who are you… hold on," he pointed ahead to a small group of mercenaries, pulling their swords out and running towards the two mages. "Does this look like trouble or am I just paranoid?"
Hawke took off running, pulling his staff out and casting a shield. "This conversation isn't over," he warned, turning to look at Anders. "I'm getting answers out of you." He spun back round to the job at hand, firing ice bolts at the mercenaries.
Fenris lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't been out since his disastrous visit to the Blooming Rose. He was full of shame for going, and embarrassed that he couldn't even go through with it when he got there. He'd stayed in for close to a week—admittedly brooding, but also using the time to try and sort through his own feelings. He had taken steps to try and find out about the sister Hadriana had mentioned, asking Varric to help him write a letter when he dwarf had popped round to check on the surly elf.
The rest of the time he'd spent thinking, and drinking if the amount of empty wine bottles on the floor was any indicator. Nothing was making any sense, nothing was any clearer. Would it help resolve his feelings if he saw Anders again, maybe even to talked to him? The mere thought of seeing the mage brought a tight knot of lust to his stomach, shooting down to his groin. Sighing, he decided to visit the Hanged Man. Maybe Anders would be there, or at least some of his other companions, to distract him. He still didn't know how he felt about that, in equal measures desperate to see the mage and dreading seeing him, knowing deep down that it would only confirm his fears, that he really had fallen for the mage.
Settling back into the cosy bench, Anders watched Cailan walking back to his seat, drinks in hand. He had a 'certain' look. Anders was fairly sure he knew what was coming next.
Sitting opposite Anders, Hawke slid a pint of mead over. They were both a little low on mana after all the fighting, and the mead would help restore them.
"Sooo," Hawke began "where were we? Ahh yes, you and Fenris. So tell me all. What is going on?" He settled back in his seat and picked up his drink.
"OK, yes, something happened. And now," Anders shrugged, "I honestly don't know." He proceeded to tell Cailan some of what had occurred. "And that's it. We kissed and he pulled back and left, just walked off, and no, I have no idea why and I haven't seen him since. I've been busy and… well, I thought he might need a bit of time to think things through," Anders finished, deliberately leaving out Fenris' shocked reactions to being touched so intimately.
"Huh!" Hawke said. "Well, so you think he sobered up and saw who he was with and… Oow!" He laughed as Anders pinged a nut shell at him, striking him on the face.
"Anyway, shut up about me. Who are you seeing?" He turned, interrupted by the bang as the door opened and Fenris walked in. Anders gave a little gasp at the spasm of tension seeing Fenris caused him, a gripping pain in his chest, making him lose his breath. Staring at the elf as he crossed the room heading for the bar, the ache eased, and in the warm glow of memory he recalled Fenris in his arms, his lips… Smiling softly, he was brought out of his daze by a nut shell pinging him.
"Uh-ohh, subtle," Hawke beamed at him, starting to laugh.
"Shit, I've got it bad haven't I?" Anders admitted, joining him in laughter.
Fenris stood at the bar. Hearing the laughter behind him, a slow burn built up in his chest. His fingers tensed around the glass he held as he turned to look at them, together, sitting by the fire. Swearing softly to himself in Tevinter, and throwing down his coin, he stalked out of the bar, casting a furious glance at the two mages.
"What the…?" Hawke looked shocked. "Where's he going?"
"Shit, he's upset isn't he?" Jumping up, Anders moved to go after the elf. "He thinks were laughing at him, I'll bet, and that I've told…" Realising exactly where they had sat, he said "Shit!" as he ran out the door.
Hawke stood up, laughing and shaking his head. Walking across the bar, he sat next to Varric and Isabela. "More Anders/Fenris drama, Hawke?" Varric asked.
"It looks that way" the mage agreed. "What have you got there?" he asked Isabela, who was twirling a round glass bottle in her hand.
"Oh this?" she tucked it away. "Nothing special, just, makeup… yes makeup." She grinned at Hawke. "So, it's your round, right?"
"Oh yeah, it's my round, of course it is, champion of Kirkwall, buckets of cash, anything else while I'm up there your ladyship?" Cailan stomped off towards the bar, turning round and looking back at them, a daft smile plastered to his handsome face.
"So, who is it then?" Isabela asked, watching Hawke at the bar.
"Jethann" Varric replied, not looking up from his notes.
"Really," she purred, "No wonder our champion is looking so pleased with himself lately".
"Fenris!" Anders called as soon as he got out of the door. Looking around wildly in the light of the waning moon, he saw a white head of hair disappearing down the stairs towards the Foundry District.
Running after, he pounded down the steps, reaching out and grabbing the elf. "Fenris stop." He turned his friend around to face him.
"What?" snarled Fenris. "Take your hands off me." He shook himself free and backed away from the mage. Heading into an alley, he leaned alongside a wall, arms folded, watching Anders with hurt, yet angry, eyes. "Don't touch me."
"No." Anders took a step forward and clasped the elf's shoulders, ignoring the glow coming from Fenris' markings. "I will bloody touch you. I know what you're thinking. Why you're angry." Fenris turned his head, refusing to meet the mage's eyes. Shaking him lightly, Anders forced Fenris to look at him. "You think, I told Hawke, about you and me, right?"
Fenris looked up at Anders, mouth set in a stern line, eyes glowing angrily. "That's part of it," he spat.
"And the rest?" Anders moved his arms down, circling the elf's waist, holding him lightly.
"Are you together?" He placed his hands on the mage's chest, the lyrium bright in his anger, flaring up to his elbows.
"What, me and Cailan? Maker no!" Anders shook his head. "What, why do you think that? Because of where we were sitting? I'm sorry I didn't realise…"
"That you were laughing… about me… while you flirted in our seat!" The jealously was written all over Fenris' face.
"Oh Fenris…" Reaching out he cupped the elf's cheek. "You're beautiful, you're amazing. You've been through hell and survived. You're a fucking invincible warrior. I only want you." He pulled Fenris towards him and kissed him, lightly, gently flicking his tongue over Fenris' lips, sucking softly on his bottom lip, till the elf gave in. Sighing, Fenris opened his mouth and kissed passionately back.
Anders broke the kiss, wrapping his arms tight around Fenris. "You feel so good in my arms," he murmured, kissing Fenris' ear. "Look I've wanted to see you all week, to talk about what happened. Why don't we go and get a drink?"
"No! I don't want to go in there with you, to be an object of ridicule and gossip." Fenris pulled back from Anders, returning to his position on the wall.
"So what now then? Do we go back to pacing around each other like dogs, you snapping at me, while we both deny our attraction for each other?" Anders asked angrily.
"I don't know!" shouted Fenris, his lyrium brands blazing. "I don't know what I want. You don't understand, this is awakening memories in me, and it's hard." He looked up at Anders, large green eyes pleading. "I've never had privacy, never had the choice not to be used as meat, or as some, some kind of elven battery and now…" he sighed, "now that I have feelings for somebody, it's all getting mixed up, the good and the bad, and I just don't know…"
Anders paused. For once he didn't know what to say. He was initially thrilled to hear Fenris admit he had feelings for him. Still he couldn't imagine what Fenris must be suffering. But if what had happened between them and what the elf had gone through in his slave past were getting mixed up… he shook his head, "I didn't know." Meeting Fenris' eyes, he asked, "Anything, anything I can do?"
Reaching over, Anders took the gauntleted hand in his own, holding it lightly, running his thumb over the palm, looking up at Fenris. The elf's sadness was obvious. "Let me go?" Fenris asked.
Anders watched Fenris leave before returning to the Hanged Man. What he really wanted to do was run up to Fenris and hold him, let the elf know that he was there and cared for him, but he knew better. Taking a seat, he looked at his friends. All three faces were turned on him, staring… waiting "What?" he asked.
"Well, you're alone, so I'm guessing it didn't go too well?" Hawke observed sarcastically.
"Evidently not," murmured Anders, not wanting to discuss it further.
"Sorry." Hawke leaned over and gave his friend a brief hug.
"Careful Hawke, you'll give Fenris more than that drunken kiss to be jealous about," said Varric
"What! How does he know about that, and who else knows!" shouted Anders, a look of horror on his face.
"Well I might have told Varric," Hawke admitted.
"You did!" Exclaimed the dwarf. "In front of the whole pub, I may add."
"Why, Cailan?" Anders rubbed his head. "So Fenris knows. No wonder he was jealous."
"Uh, Blondie, I'm pretty sure the whole of Kirkwall knows," laughed Varric.
"I remember this," Isabela chuckled. "You were trying to advise Aveline about not spoiling working relationships, and you were as pissed as a brewery rat, and when she got up to leave you called out, 'Noooo don't do it. I kissed Anders and it's been weird ever since,' and the whole place went quiet." The pirate threw her head back laughing, Varric joining in.
Anders just stared at Cailan. "Oh you didn't!" as he tried not to laugh at the other mage's embarrassment. "It hasn't been weird, has it?" he asked.
"No it hasn't, and truth be told, I don't even remember doing it," Hawke admitted.
"Well you did," grinned Varric, tapping his notes.
"And Fenris definitely heard?" asked Anders, faint hope in his voice.
"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry," Hawke said in a quiet voice.
"Guhhhhh," Anders laid his head on the table top. "Get me a drink… lots of drinks"
Fenris sat on the edge of his bed, watching the rain drip through the holes in the ceiling. Yet another wet Kirkwall night. He jumped slightly as a loud knock resounded through the mansion and into the bedroom. Grumbling to himself, he got up to go and see who was at the door.
Varric stood on the doorstep, soaking wet, "I just came to check on you, Broody, didn't realise I was going to get so wet. Brought you a new book as well." He stepped into the mansion.
Standing upstairs by the fire, his clothes steaming as they dried, Varric unwrapped the oilskin and handed Fenris the book. "Enjoy it," he grinned. "This one's a ride! So you've been hiding yourself away for a while. Anything I can do to help? Need any uh 'personal' advice?"
"I have not been hiding myself away, and why would I need personal advice?" Fenris took the book, turning it over in his hands.
Varric looked up at him. "Come on now, you must think I've got nug shit for brains. You and Blondie, eh?"
"There is no 'me and Blondie'," he growled, placing the book down on the chair and pacing by the fire.
"Let me give you some advice Broody. Your heart is like this house, once fine and beautiful, but you inhabit just a few rooms and seal off entire wings, and eventually both become old ruins. But at night when you're alone, you can hear the ghosts that weep and wail there."
Turning away from the fire Varric, made his way towards the door. "Don't let this house become a model for your heart. Blondie's a good guy, and more than that, he cares for you." Patting Fenris arm, he left, letting himself out.
Varric's words spun through his mind as Fenris lay in bed trying to concentrate on his book. His bed was the one, if not the only, luxury he'd allowed himself to buy. Other than the bare necessities for living, he brought very little for the mansion. It was a symbol of who he'd come to hunt, even if it seemed Danarius had never actually owned the place. The worse it looked, the more it reminded him of that, of how he must always protect himself.
The bed however was a different matter. He bought the largest, most comfortable, feather and down bed he could. Maybe it was years of sleeping on floors in various slave quarters, or the first signs of breaking free from his slave conditioning. Whichever it was, Fenris took great pleasure in the deep filled mattress and pillows. Stripping off his armour at night and climbing in was a luxury, a time of privacy and peace. Not one to completely relax, his giant broadsword leant in a custom made notch in the headboard, readily available if he should need it.
A faint scratching noise drew his attention. Raising his head, he concentrated on the sounds. A definite scratching. It must be rats, thinking this house deserted, seeking shelter from the rain. Silently climbing out of bed, he pulled on a loose red tunic, and taking up his sword crept out of the main room he lived in. As he descended the stairs he heard it again. A rustling joined the noise. It was coming from the front hall. Padding in on tiptoe, he raised the sword, ready to bring it down on the vermin, when he paused. This was no rat. Instead, a large, soaking wet, bedraggled tabby cat stood in the corner of the hall, pawing amongst a pile of old papers he'd never thrown out, back arched, fur in all directions. It hissed in warning at Fenris.
Smiling Fenris lowered the sword. The cat had just spoken to him in a manner he knew very well. Taking in the sight of the pathetic creature, Fenris decided to leave it be. It could do no harm, and, if anything, it would keep the rats at bay. Retrieving his book, he got back into bed. Laying there, hearing the rain beat down on the roof, he felt satisfied that he'd allowed the creature to stay, not wanting a creature so pathetic to have to suffer the cold rain as well.