Chantry Apocalypse
The Chantry was supposed to be safe. Kirkwall is on fire anyways. (WARNING: Men Kissing... deal or don't read.)
The first two weeks seems to go smoothly, at least for Fenris watching over Anders in the clinic. He stayed out of sight and made sure no trouble of the Templar sort interfered. Anders was kept very busy healing people. Above them in both Lowtown and Hightown, things went less smoothly. Templars and City Guard had tension. The Champion struggled to keep balance. Slavers and other trouble found the hotbed to be a time to take advantage of the chaos.
Fenris returned home… home… staring at the foyer in its state of desiccated corpses and broken tiles. He wondered if he could call this home. What was a home like? He had no real memory of one and was a slave anyways. What was a free man's home like? He had his own struggles with the reality of his freedom. He tried not to feel lost and floundering, but he did. A knock on the door behind him snapped him from his frustration.
Varric came in when Fenris opened the door. "I have a surprise for you my broody friend!" He held out a tightly rolls set of papers tied with a ribbon from which hung a signet ring.
Fenris accepted it. "What is this?" He removed the ring and tried it on, but it did not fit any of his fingers. "I am sorry, it doesn't…"
"You don't wear that kind of ring, though I suppose some people do. It is a House ring or Family ring. A signet ring. You use it to seal letters or to mark letters in place of writing your name. I took the liberty to create one unique for you. I have a matching one of it in case yours gets… damaged." He waited for the news to sink in.
Fenris stared down at the ring a long time. He knew of such rings. They were passed down through a family. Now he had one to pass down. He had a means to sign things without having to write his name, which he still could not yet do. "I… thank you. Thank you Varric."
"Open the rest," he gestured at the papers.
Fenris unrolled the papers, and looked them over, not really knowing what he was looking at. He found his new seal at the bottom of each page and that all three pages were identical.
At the confused look on the elf's face, Varric grinned. "That is the deed to this house, now in your name. Times three. I have a copy. There is one in the archives of the Viscount's office with the Seneschal. And you have three copies. Keep them safe. This manor is now yours, bought and secured with funds Hawke and I had agreed to shave off all our incomes from each mission. We felt that Danarius did not deserve to own anything here in Kirkwall, and that included you. Now, you own something of his."
Fenris had to chuckle at that. What irony! Now this mansion, technically called a manor here, really was his home. He owned it. Owned it as he owned his swords and his armor. Now he had a real place to truly put roots into. "Thank you Varric. This means a great deal to me."
"Good. I hope that means you will fix it up and invite us over to celebrate." He waved as he stepped back out. "Gotta go now. The dwarven merchants' guild is in a tizzy over taxes Meredith is trying to impose upon them."
Fenris stood trying not to feel stunned. He owned a house. He owned Danarius' house. HA! He owned a house that looked like a vile dump. The point of leaving it thus was to discourage people from raiding it or bothering him, to be a warning to any of Danarius' hunters that they would end up like those corpses. The only room he kept impeccable was the meeting room at the top of the stairs where he had moved in a bed. It was where he chose to live. Now… he owned the whole building. He didn't know where to begin. It was a bit overwhelming and he retreated to his room to think over a glass of wine.
He lounged in his plush chair by the fire reviewing everything from the last several weeks. How his life had changed. How his perceptions of people had changed. How he felt about the holes in his own memories and that he had come to accept them. He had freedom now, and choice. He was no longer held back by his past. It had taken him years, though to come to this level of comfort. He expected it would be no different for Anders. Except that Anders past lurked around every bloody corner of Kirkwall under Knight Commander Meredith's rule. Templars.
He had watched Anders over the last couple weeks. The mage healed people like it was duty. He showed compassion, but it drained him more than usual. When the mage didn't think anyone noticed, a look of inner pain and loss filled his eyes. He worked because he had no idea what else to do with himself in the turmoil of his mixed up memories. Sometimes some came back is rushes that left him terrified and shaking in his bed. He started to doubt himself in many things. He became quiet, introverted. Fenris began to wonder if maybe Sebastian was right. Anders was a powder keg waiting to go off. He needed an outlet before he did. He needed help sorting everything. But Anders had started to distrust everyone. Not sure who was really a friend and not. Wasn't sure if his involvement was just because Justice found the person useful. He became afraid to get close to anyone.
Varric invited them all to dinner and game of wicked grace to have a mini celebration of Fenris getting deeds to his manor, until Fenris could fix up his place enough to have a proper celebration. Hawke escorted Anders as Templars were less likely to interfere with the Champion of Kirkwall over Anders than anyone else. Anders felt like all his friendships to now had been so hollow and wasn't sure if he should or could deepen any of them. Everyone seemed so comfortable with each other. Anders felt out of place. His memories of each person present were sketchy. His anxiety interfered with his ability to plaster a false smile on. Part of him just wanted to run away. Hide in the clinic where it was safe. One on one with these people was so much easier than this. It didn't help that Sebastian watched him warily. Or that Isabela flirted openly with him.
This was the first of several to come gatherings with the group and Anders grew more and more at relative ease with them. Though his smiles were shallow and his humor like a witty shield. Fenris recognized this as he had used fear and anger, what Varric called his broodiness, like a shield to keep everyone at a safe distance. When he returned to his clinic after these gatherings and buried himself into his pillow and wept. He was lonely, soul-deep lonely, without the constant company of Justice within him. It was just a gaping hole that joined the one left by Karl's death. He had no idea how to fill it. How to get close to any of these friends. He had already ended possible relationships with Isabela and Hawke and the others were not interested, had their own relationships in a way.
Anders thought about running away again. But he couldn't outrun the darkspawn dreams, or that his life would be significantly shorted now that he was a Warden. He couldn't see how to outrun the Templars and felt too tired doing it. He just wanted them to all stop and go away. He toed the hidden spot with the spellbook of doom as he had nicknamed it. He took it out and looked over that spell that would destroy the Chantry. Everything was ready. There was just one thing left to do to put it in motion. But killing people, innocent people… he could not do. It made him sick to think he had planned this at all. Justice had made him into an abomination. He broke down and wept again wishing Fenris had killed him for being the abomination he was always accused of being.
"Put the book away, mage." Fenris stood in the curtained doorway of Anders private room in the clinic.
Anders dashed away his tears and shoved the book back into the hole and covered it. "What am I? What have I become? And why did you let me live if you knew I was becoming an abomination!" He yelled accusingly at the elf.
"Hawke. He believed you had the strength to resist the spirit and that you were a good man and a good healer."
"But you didn't… don't. You hate mages. Always say that we are doomed to be like those magisters."
"Even possessed, you have shown me that not all mages are the same." Fenris stepped closer, cautious not to trigger Anders into reacting as so many scared mages did. "I am not your enemy. And you are not mine."
Anders rubbed over his own heart, it ached so much.
Fenris reached over and pushed Anders hand aside, pressing his hand to Anders heart. "You are not an abomination. And Justice's plans have been stopped. You are not a murderer. And I know how it feels to have gaping holes in your memory. It gets easier to bear over time. Don't shut out the people who call you friends."
Fenris drew his hand away. "You offered to teach me to read. Will you still, my friend?"
"Are we? Friends?"
Fenris gave a curt nod. Anders needed the reassurance just as Fenris did. He needed to know he was wanted and needed.
So when a crisis occurred at Hawke's mine, Fenris welcomed it and insisted they bring Anders along. The hike took much longer up the mountain than expected. Raiders, darkspawn, even slavers lurked at every turn. Anders fought and cast as he always had. Some things were automatic reactions. He knew what to do even if he did not think about it. At camp, he healed and engaged in the almost usual jests and quips and party banter. Until he came to Fenris.
Fenris watched him, watched every twitch, every nuance. "What?!" snapped Anders. "I'm fine. Stop looking at me like I am not." Fenris looked away. They were starting to fall into their usual animosity. The familiar was often easier. Especially when the rest of the their companions expected it. Once everyone was asleep, Fenris would sit next to Anders. "Now what?" Anders asked with renewed annoyance.
"You promised to teach me to read and write."
Anders looked over at the elf in surprise. "If I show you patience in this, you have to show me equal patience. No getting mad at me. I know what I am doing… at least… on this." He took up a stick and drew a set of five symbols in the dirt. "All words are made up of a collection of symbols called letters. Each letter can represent several sounds depending on what letters they are grouped with. This one is A in the capital or big form. Capital letters start sentences and names. This is a small a. A is for apple, Anders, ask… they have the aaaaah sound for A. Hawke has an a in his name with an aw sound to the A. Blade as the ae sound in for the A in that word. Here, you draw the letter." He handed the stick to Fenris so he could practice this letter.
"There are twenty-six letters in total. They make up the alphabet that most languages use, even Arcanum and Tevinter. Elvhen uses a different set of symbols, but I won't teach them to you until you have a really good grasp of these." Anders showed him B, C, D, E, and finally F. They spent several hours that evening with just these first six letters. Then Anders wrote in the dirt FENRIS. "What letters to you recognize in this word?"
Fenris studied it a moment. "F… and E… Fffff… eh… FEh…"
"Good, sounding out each letter will help you get the word. This one is your name. Fenris." He smiled at the sudden light that came into the elf's eyes to see his name and recognize at least two of the letters. He copied the letters of his name over and over in the dirt. Anders yawned. "You are on first watch. I'll show you more tomorrow." Anders curled up to sleep.
The previous two nights camping, Anders woke with nightmares. He usually did when they camped, even before. But they had never been quite so terrible. He used to wake with a gasp and then calm and roll over to sleep again. These past few night, he had tossed and turned, sweated and yelled and woke in almost terror, gasping and needing to be reassured that they were safe. He mumbled about darkspawn. Hawke slept close to him after those nightmares. A warm and friendly presence.
On the night Anders taught Fenris the first six letters of the alphabet, he had one of the worst nightmares he has ever had. Trapped. In darkness. Alone. Stone all around. Darkspawn so close. The shriek of a lesser dragon. Commanding… calling. Anders woke screaming! Hands over his ears. Hawke and Fenris rushed over, but he panicked at the movement and cast a deflect throwing them both back. He was on his feet and running a second later.
"Anders!" Hawke called.
"I'll get him!" Fenris called back as he took after the mage. He was faster than Hawke anyhow. And Anders magic didn't always work on him if he focused. A benefit he found of the lyrium in him. Bare feet pounded over the dirt path as he ate up the distance swiftly, lyrium shimmering aglow to lend him extra speed. He tackled Anders to the ground.
Anders struggled and flailed and kicked, clamped his hands over his ears again, lips peeling back in a grimace as he keened. He curled in on himself in blind terror. Fenris tried to shake sense into him. Then Anders yelled, "DRAGON! Darkspawn dragon! NOoooo… I don't want to go down in the dark! NOOO!"
Fenris shook him hard and pulled his hands from his ears, "ANDERS! Look at me!" Wild eyes locked onto Fenris. "Stay looking at me. You are outside. There is no dragon here. Is one near? At the mines?" Anders nodded frantically. "Breathe, mage. You are safe and not alone. I need to with me if I fight that. Do you understand?" Anders nodded again. He grabbed Fenris' arm, making the elf jump at the contact, and would not let go Hawke caught up to them with a vial in his hands that he made Anders drink. Anders choked a bit on it before the sleep potion took effect. His muscles relaxed and then his eyes rolled. "I'll carry him back to camp. I think he has a jar of some tea he uses to keep calm with. Maybe Varric can make it?"
Hawke agreed and headed back to camp to do just that. "I am glad I keep some of those sleep potions. Bethany had warned me by letter last week that the darkspawn nightmares can get real bad and that this is the only way someone can get some sleep sometimes. But, it should not become a habit. She suspects he was be extra sensitive since she thinks that Justice might have been blocking the nightmares while Anders was possessed."
"Great," Fenris commented with sarcasm.
Back at camp, Hawke found the jar of tea and after everyone got some sleep, Varric made a pot of it to go with breakfast. Fenris slept next to Anders in case there was another incident. Hawke and Varric discussed the dragon and darkspawn Anders had screamed about.
Their voices and movements waking Fenris. He lifted his head to see that they were too occupied to with the preparations of breakfast and their discussion to notice anything quiet where he and Anders lay. He reached over slowly and very gently pressed the backs of his fingers against Anders' brow. He felt that brow crease. A thin whimper escaped quivering lips. Tears formed in the corners of closed eyes and slipped over the bridge of Anders nose and towards the bedroll. Fenris drew his hand away as Anders' eyes fluttered open.
"Do you know anything about Wardens, Fenris?" Anders whispered shakily.
"Only that you can sense their corruption and they invade your dreams with terror," he rumbles in a deep soft voice.
"I will never be free of Templars in my lifetime. And nothing I every do will see mages that live under the cruelty and corruption of the Templars and Chantry, free to choose their own lives. I won't live… long. No Warden does. We get… at best twenty to thirty years from the time of Joining… mages… get less." He took in a shuddering breath. "Then we suffer the Calling. The call of the darkspawn gets too great to resist and the taint in us takes over. They escort us then into the Deep Roads so that we can die on our feet fighting the darkspawn… and if we fail and turn… turn into one… they end us." A shiver ran through his body.
They watched each on silence for a few minutes before Fenris finally asked. "When was your Joining?"
"Eight years ago…" Somehow those cool green eyes seemed more reassuring than anything else. "I want to do some good, see some change for the better before I am gone. All I ever wanted to be was a free man, healing people without fear for my life. And by the Maker… I don't want to die in the dark Deep Roads. When I die, I want to see sky."
"What are you two whispering about over there like lovers?" called Hawke. "Breakfast and tea are ready. I want to kill that dragon before I have no miners left."
"Thank you oh faithful great leader, Hawke, for putting things into such wonderful perspective for us," Anders called back as he sat up.
Fenris filed this conversation away for another day. He knew, just from that short whispered conversation, the man this mage was, is, could be… and that Anders would never do something to harm the innocent. Fenris found his purpose though was not ready to put it into words just yet.
Later that day, they made it to the mines. Anders threw himself into healing the miners out in the mining camp. So many wounded, terrified men. The sounds of a dragon shrieked from the Bone Pit. Fenris faces off Anders, "I need you. We need you." Anders steeled himself and nodded. "Let us do something good, right here. And make a change for the better for these people." Anders nodded more firmly and cast the buffs and protections upon Fenris then on the others.
The dragon died by nightfall. Sometime the next day, the mine was cleaned out of the darkspawn.
They took their time heading back, helping the injured along. Each night they camped, Anders sat with Fenris, showing him a few more letters and reviewing the first ones.
Missions went like this for a couple months. When not on missions, Fenris brought paper to the clinic. At his mansion, he worked harder than he ever had, clearing things, cleaning things, fixing things. He had a huge plan. Well, it felt huge to him. By the end of the fourth month, he locked himself away and skipped the weekly wicked grace night at the Hanged Man.
Several days later he made an appearance at the clinic during the day where Anders was elbow deep in blood from some random attack of the Templars on some folks. When he took a break, Fenris could hear the mage muttering colorful curses about the Templars. He approached and handed Anders a paper, folded neatly and sealed with Fenris' new signet seal.
Anders looked up from where he sat on the bench and opened it. It was in Fenris' imperfect, but decent handwriting. It had spelling errors, but still could be understood.
Thank yoo for being such a good and pashent teecher.
I wood like to invite yoo to my home for a party.
Fenris
Fenris was rewarded by the first real smile he had ever seen on Anders' face. "You wrote this all by yourself. Fenris. I would love to come for a party at your home. When?"
"End of the week. I know it is not a perfect invitation. Can you help me write more for the others?"
"Sure, once I am done here." Anders tucked the very evidence of Fenris' writing into his pouch and stood up again to finish his work at the clinic.
At the Hanged Man the next night at their wicked grace game, Fenris shifted uneasily from one bare foot to the next while everyone opened up their invitations. Everyone exclaimed with joy and of course agreed to come. They talked to him about what he did to the mansion and what they could bring as gifts. Hawke cornered him on a beer run to the bar, "You wrote those yourself? I am surprised you learned so fast. I mean, I know Anders was teaching you."
"He is a very good teacher. Patient and gentle and encouraging. He is doing much better now that he has something to do and that he feels appreciated and part of the group again." Fenris said.
Hawke worked with his servant, Orana, to provide food for the party. Beyond that, everyone showed up with wine for they knew that was what Fenris liked best. Anders could not afford wine, but he brought a small basket of apples, remembering that Fenris liked them. It was not the kind of party Isabela expected, but it was Fenris' first. Dinner in the dining hall. A tour of the cleaned up place. Good alcohol to share. Great stories from Varric. These were his friends and Fenris was proud to be able to share this moment with them. It offered a small break from the growing tension in the city and with Meredith. They all avoided discussing that topic.
After the party, everyone headed home. Hawke offered to escort Anders home to ensure his safety since things were boiling badly between First Enchanter Orsino and Knight Commander Meredith. He didn't want trouble. Fenris felt badly for all the responsibility on Hawke's shoulders. "No, go home my friend. You need the rest. Thank you for coming, but I will see Anders safely back to the clinic." Hawke was grateful and left.
"Do you… want to maybe stay the night?" Fenris asked, feeling his stomach flip over and then be contaminated by fluttering bugs.
Anders blushed just a little and chewed his lip. "I… uhm… I should check on the clinic. But… maybe when things calm down out there. Ask me again." He wanted to say yes so badly.
Fenris could see the open invitation… and Anders nervousness. Anders kept people at a distance so they would not be hurt by him… or the loss of him. Fenris knew what he was doing. He had his freedom now, and he had choice. This was his choice. But he could see Anders was not quite yet ready. They walked in almost shy silence to the clinic, carefully avoiding patrols.
Outside the clinic doors, Fenris pulled Anders to the nearby wall, pushing him up against it. Anders asked with wide eyes, if the elf heard danger. "No, I just want you to know something. Do with it as you choose." He stepped in and pressed his lips to the mages.
Anders stilled in shock. A flood of the missing memories about Fenris came back in that rush. The hatred, the resolution of their animosity, the magical work Anders did to free Fenris, how Fenris had cared for him. Anders melted then, returning the kiss. Then gripped Fenris' chest plate and turned things around, Fenris found himself up against the wall with the taller mage deepening their kiss.
They broke apart panting. Both suddenly intent on more than just kissing. They pressed against the door… and it swung open with ease. Both froze. "Maker, no…" gasped Anders. They turned to survey the clinic.
Tables were turned over. Sheets were torn. Healing kits were scattered and ruined. Someone had been searching the place and wrecking it from end to end. The crafting table was a mess of broken bottles and spoiled ingredients. Notebooks torn and thrown about. The private room had suffered the same at the clinic. Anders looked almost on the edge of tears with a hand over his mouth in disbelief. A knife had cut open even the mattress of his bed and shredded the pillow from his mother. The floorboard was broken and its contents also gone. All the vials and the Ancient Tevinter spellbook.
"Vanhedis! You are coming back to my place. Now, Anders." Fenris grabbed the mage's sleeve and steered him out. It was not safe to stay here.
They headed to Hawke as the sun started to rise. Hawke stood outside already, and was spitting mad. There was no time to discuss things. All the tension was coming to a head… now. The companions all gathered at the Gallows. Orsino and Meredith were yelling back and forth at one another. She accuses him of harboring bloodmages. He threatens to take the issues of her and her Templars abuses to Grand-Cleric Elthina. Fenris and Anders exchange a look. Then Anders interrupts. "Telling the Grand Cleric will not help anyone now! You have to…"
He never finished as the ground shook from a deep explosion underground that worked its way up with powerful magic, blasting fiery light into the sky. The destruction centered on the Chantry and spreading across parts of Kirkwall. Sebastian screams in anguish and falls to his knees, "ELTHINA!"
Anders world blurred to the nonsense of yelling and fighting around him. Meredith threatening the Right of Annulment. Anders being accused of the very act. He could not even deny it. It was his fault. He had planned it. He had lied to Hawke and gathered all the ingredients. And then… he had kept them. Did it matter that someone stole them and finished what he started? Did it matter who? Hawke's sense of betrayal and hurt enraged the rogue to a point where he didn't know where to stand on the matter, or what to do about Anders. Anders sank down onto a crate, numb, while the companions debated his fate behind him. He only asked for death in retribution of all those innocent lives of those who just died.
Hawke releases him and tells him, though firmly states their friendship is over. Sebastian wants Anders head so badly for the death of Elthina that he swears to Hawke that he will come back with such an army and hunt Anders down if he was to lay waste to the whole of Kirkwall. Sebastian storms away, leaving the companions to the trouble of mages and Templars. They were no longer his problem. They could kill each other for all he cared right now.
Fenris met Anders eyes for a moment. Merrill had been the one to voice the words Fenris could not find voice for. "Let him help us. Give him the chance to atone for what he had done. We will need his help for this. Please Hawke."
Hawke was still furious, but reluctantly agreed. "After that, you get out of my sight."
Amid the fires of Kirkwall, battles raged in the very streets depending on what side people supported, mage or Templar. Inside the Gallows, the battle was like a small holocaust. Meredith had been corrupted by the red lyruim she had reforged into her sword and died a burning death in the end. Orsino had been secretly advocating bloodmagic and turned to it in the battle becoming an abomination, meeting his death as well.
Cullen was left standing as the most senior Templar to try to bring some measure of peace to those remaining. Anders had been healing the fallen while Hawke and Cullen and Aveline worked out some semblance of a peace accord. When everyone turned to look for Anders, he was gone.