Fenris ran his hands over the unconscious mage, checking his wounds. Thank the Maker, the worst of it seemed to have been repaired and Anders' breathing was steady, his eyes twitching in sleep. Sleep, not coma. Fenris let out the breath he had not been aware he had been holding.

The remaining villagers hovered behind him, watching in concern. "The mage will be fine," Fenris told them. "The darkspawn are driven back. You will sleep safer tonight. Well fought."

The leader of the group of villagers, a burly man with a large gingery beard, bowed. "We will return home to bring the news. Can we move him?"

Fenris nodded his assent. "He sleeps deeply. We will need to carry him."

The villagers lifted Anders gently, wary of the blood caking his robes reminding them of the wounds he had suffered. Fenris walked at their side, never taking his eyes off the mage. Venhedis, he thought they had lost him. He remembered seeing the mage collapse to the floor, robes shredded, scarlet pumping out of his gut, face rigid in shock. Fenris had decapitated the darkspawn with a roar before dropping to his knees beside Anders, a knot forming in his stomach at the mage's sightless eyes and rattling throat. He had thought he was going to be sick, felt as if someone was pummelling him in the chest with a maul.

Fenris frowned. He felt pure relief that Anders was still here, that he had been able to force him back into his body and help him to heal. He also felt a foreign emotion, something he had never before experienced. Was this what it meant to care about someone, for it to make a difference whether they lived or died? He had no memory of ever being affected by another's life, no recollection of any other person having a positive impact on him at all. All he had ever felt towards others was hatred, resentment, frustration. He had welcomed those feelings, as he had thought them better than giving in to blankness. But this – his concern over the mage – felt different. More alive, more sustaining – but also frightening.

Fenris shook his head fiercely. To feel any such emotion for a mage was beyond anything he might have believed possible. He did not welcome the feelings but knew that he would never be able to deny them. Anders had done nothing wrong, the mage had been an open book to him, had saved his life, had fought beside him for the same cause. He was no Tevinter magister, despite his claim to wish it for himself. He was a good man, and deserved no ire.

So no anger, but what else? Fenris licked his lips, remembering again Anders' kiss in the courtyard. He couldn't forget the image of the man leaning towards him, amber eyes closing, and the feel of the alien stubble against his own smooth chin, the press of the soft, moist lips, the slight release of breath that had played over his mouth. Fenris' first kiss, at least that he could remember. He had tensed at the unfamiliar contact, then run away, unable to cope with the sensation. This was something new. Danarius had… used him, but never out of any sense of affection or love. There had been no kisses, no caress. It had been mechanical, simply the motions of sex. A punishment. Danarius would spit on him afterwards, tell him he was useless.

"Where shall we take him?"

The burly man's voice broke through Fenris' reverie, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. They were on the outskirts of the village.

"He has a room in Matthias' house. Take him there, I will see to him."

The man inclined his head. "Indeed. Thank you, elf, for what you and your friend have done for this village today."

Fenris smiled. Friend. He had never had a friend before. Was that what Anders was?


"Hnngh!"

Anders pushed his face deeper into the pillow as he rose from the Fade, eyes glued shut with sleep, his head throbbing. He snuffled softly into the cotton as he felt fingers running through his hair, stroking his scalp.

"What… where?"

The hand withdrew from his head. "Shh, you are safe. You've been asleep for two days."

"F… Fenris?" Anders frowned in confusion.

"You were hurt badly, but we managed to get you healed and brought back here. How are your wounds? They look clean."

Anders stretched his body languidly beneath the sheet. The skin on his belly felt a little taut, but there was no pain.

"Feels… okay. Thank you."

"Mm. I am glad."

"Fenris?"

"Yes, mage?"

"Why are you here?"

Fenris looked at the sleepy man, reclining on the pillow and squinting up at him with warm eyes. He had not left the bedside except to relieve himself since he himself had undone Anders' robes, dressed him in a clean tunic and tucked him into the blankets. He was not about to tell Anders this, however, and instead grasped for an answer.

"I wanted to make sure you were recovering."

"And here I am, all recovered!" Anders smiled, before his expression grew serious. "I remember what happened, Fenris. I remember what you did for me. I owe you my life."

Fenris winced. "You do not owe me anything. Your life is your own."

Anders huffed. "That is not what I meant and you know it. Stubborn elf! I'm trying to thank you."

Fenris' mouth curved in a wry smile. "I should be more gracious. I am sorry."

"Who are you and what did you do with Fenris?" Anders looked confused.

"Ha ha, very funny."

"I must still be dreaming." Anders grinned up at the elf, who had narrowed his eyes but was still half-smiling, then yelped as Fenris leaned over and pinched his shoulder, hard. "Ouch! That hurt!"

"You are not dreaming, mage. Now, have some water. Your breath smells."

"And he inflicts more pain!" Anders clutched his chest dramatically, but sat up and accepted the glass Fenris offered him, drinking the cool liquid down greedily.


Anders remained in bed for another day and night before he felt that his body was replenished and his strength returned. Fenris had moved into Matthias' home, stating that he had had enough of the rats in the hayloft. This meant that Fenris had been able to check on Anders throughout the day, bringing him food and water. Anders was still constantly surprised by the change in Fenris, and mused over what might have triggered it.

Fenris appeared in the doorway, holding Anders' mage robes.

"I did my best with these, though I only had a bucket of cold water and a bar of soap. Most of the blood has come out, but it has stained."

"You… washed my clothes?" Anders shook his head. This was the Fade, surely. "Are you a demon?"

"A demon? Demon! How can you even think…" Fenris' brows knitted in anger and his lyrium lines lit up, pulsing silver. He leaned over Anders, furious. "You dare compare me to a demon?"

Anders smiled. "That's better. I was getting worried."

Fenris turned away, glow subsiding as he breathed hard. "Festis bei umo canavarum, mage. You will be the death of me."

"I hope not," Anders looked serious. "I was sort of getting used to having you around."

"Pfaugh. I won't wash your clothes forever, mage."

"That's not what I meant."

Anders looked up into Fenris' intense gaze, and his breath caught as he registered the naked longing which briefly passed across the elf's face. He made a quick decision.

"I need some fresh air. Will you walk with me, in case I get a bit wobbly?"

Fenris made a noise of acquiescence in the back of his throat. "Dress, I will meet you downstairs."