Chapter 10: Danger

Fenris worried some about what their destination ought to be and how Hawke will find them later whenever Hawke was done with his mission. He tried to keep focused on the reading and felt remarkably proud of himself for doing so despite the occasional moments where the words were very difficult or the things he read were awkward to relive.

"I was greatly awed by him (Hawke… me too) as I was by the Warden… THE Warden, hero of Fereldan. I had wished then that she would have been less in-vol-ved involved in Al-is-tair or in Zevran." (who, who and who? That Zevran again. Wait… she? So Anders likes women too? Great, he stalks both fields like Hawke. Grrr… that should not bother me. Why does this bother me?! So what if he stalks both fields. Like I care!)

Fenris grumbled and kept reading. "I promised my aid along with my map. I am not really a fighter. Certainly not a battle mage like Bethany. I am a healer with a good deal of de-fen-sive and boosting magical knowledge. I can buff and I can shy-sheee… shield. But I did learn to handle myself while with the Wardens. The staff training was hard, (ah! So he learned to use that staff as a physical weapon and not just a magical one. That explains the twirling) and reminded me of my father's training when he wanted me to be like other Anders boys. Being an Anders boy meant you had two options in life: Priest of Andraste or Warrior… or Templar if you wanted to walk both paths. I was far too ir-rev-rev… irrev," Fenris stumbled till Anders supplied the new words, "Ir-re-ver-ent and mis-chie-vous… Irreverent and michievous. The Priests called me hopeless (you are) and thought I was possessed by a demon (you sort of are) who liked to poke fun at all things holy or not. (Okay, not quite like that. You did?) I just thought those priests were too stuffy and needed to learn to live a little! And by the Maker… ce-li-bate… celibate?! I was having none of that, certainly not after that roll in the hay with the milk maid's daughter when I was eleven."

Fenris choked out to Anders, "You did what?! At eleven?!"

"I was a curious boy?" shrugged Anders. "I wanted to know everything about all the functions of the human body." Anders grinned hugely with only the barest hint of sheepishness.

Fenris shook his head as Anders wandered out to get the lunch meal. He didn't think this would be as interesting as it was, but it was. Anders never spoke of his childhood or his family. Literally, never. Nor did he really speak much of his time in the Circle beyond that it was awful and mages ought to be free, yadda yadda yadda. So Fenris continued reading with curiosity, "When I could not remotely be convinced to be a priest or the priests refused to take me, I can't remember which, my father dragged me off to teach me fighting. I was horrible. I couldn't shoot a bow for my life. He put a sword in my hand and I kept fumbling it. He'd hit me and I would cry and run and hide. He made me hack a rabbit he had tied down that was squirming for its life and I wept for days, more for the rabbit than the beatings he gave me as punishment for my 'girlish' behaviour." Fenris frowned. (Girlish? Why should compassion be restricted to girls?) Fenris didn't have many memories of his family, but the tiny snippets he did have were of a loving mother, though a slave, who offered what gentleness she could. Even the values of family and tenderness for children were reinforced by how Hawke's family behaved and how Hawke treated people, along with all Fenris witnessed in the Alienage and other places. Parents loved and cared for their children, not beat them for things they were simply not good at. (What twisted family did Anders come from?) He read onward, "Those quarter staff skills I learned among the Wardens would sure have been helpful when I was younger and would have made my earlier escape attempts from the Circle more successful."

Anders returned with food to be startled by a question. "How many times did you escape from the Circle? And why didn't they just make you Tranquil the first time?"

"Hmmm… I think I tried dozens of times to escape and that was just in the first year I was there. First Enchanter Irving called me a reckless scamp." Anders chuckled lightly. It was the first positive thing about the Circle Fenris heard from Anders. "But only really managed to get away seven times. First Enchanter Irving convinced them that I was only playful, and meant no real harm by it. He had told them that my easy temper and my humor assured that I was no real threat. That was for the first few real successful escapes that got me oh… maybe a few hours from the compound where I tore off my robes and danced and sang naked in the field under the moon."

Fenris frowned at the term compound, like a slave compound. He thought all Circle of Magi were called Circles, except for the Gallows of Kirkwall. "And the other times?"

"They were after my Harrowing, so they knew I was not demon possessed. And I was too useful to be made Tranquil. And I refused to actually fight or turn to blood magic, so I wasn't exactly hard to catch after."

Fenris recalled what he had just read about the rabbit and how much Anders devoted himself to healing. It made sense. "Useful?" he asked for clarification. (Like a tool kind of useful? Do the ones no longer useful end up Tranquil?) It all smacked again like slavery and disturbed Fenris with its repeated similarities.

Anders wasn't accustomed to so much out of Fenris or of Fenris being so keen to learn about his past, so he tiptoed into the conversation. "I was excellent at making potions, better than anyone, and well, adept at healing even back then. My first real escape was when I was thirteen. I managed a couple more after that and got off easy, with only being… locked in… isolation." Anders quieted as he sat on the bed and set the food between them. "They punished me for the other attempts or punished others in my place and bade me watch to know it was my fault." He poked the food but did not eat. "They did other stuff to me when I did manage to get away. Enough that I didn't try again for many years. When I started trying again, they forced me to help them make mages Tranquil and then punished me anyways. The last attempt, I swore I would not go back no matter what, that I would rather die. It almost killed me, they almost killed me. I leapt off a cliff and somehow… survived. The Dalish in the area found me and their Keeper took me in and kept me hidden and safe for a time. About eight months."

Fenris wanted to ask about the punishment, but he saw Anders' hands shake till Anders moved to the topic of the Dalish. Anders covered his anxiety as he always did with a smile and light-hearted comments. "That's where I learned to dance! The Anders Spicy Shimmy! And no, in case you are wondering, no one has seen me do that dance, not really, not properly. And by Andraste's flaming… you know… The few who have seen bits I did in the Hanged Man must have told people in the Blooming Rose, because every time we went in there with Hawke, someone tried to hire me! UGH!"

Fenris ate and thought and digested what he just learned about the mage he was charged to watch. Getting down to the truth was always hard. You had to dig through these layers of humor or sarcastic quips. Fenris turned the page and read on as he ate, "Hawke gave me a place, a group I could belong to. I never really felt like I belonged anywhere or with anyone before." (Same here.) But now the group was all split up. There was no group. There was nowhere and no one to belong with or to. It made for much floundering. Fenris needed purpose and despite everything, the task asked of him, Fenris was grateful Hawke found a purpose he was good at and could devote himself to.

Fenris spent some of the afternoon on the deck working among the rigging. A fog caused moisture to soak his clothing but he didn't mind too much, except for the chilliness. He liked the strange activity of climbing and manipulating the fabrics. He had good reach, better than most of the crew with his long legs and arms and his lyrium enhanced strength. Humans were usually taller that the average elf. Anders was taller than the average human. And Fenris could almost stand eye to eye with Anders, making him very odd and tall for an elf. When Anders hunched, which he often did, seeming to try to be less tall, then Fenris did stand eye to eye with him. If Fenris glanced down, he would see Anders watching him. He wondered if the mage had healing spells or maybe some magical feather spell to use if he fell. Fenris knew he would not fall. But Anders eyes on him made his skin crawl awkwardly.

Athenril stood beside Anders, "He is very good up there. I would love to keep him on when we let you off in Fereldan."

Anders scowled, "Ask him. He is not mine, I don't own him." There was unexpected irritation in his voice.

"I did." Anders turned to look at her, surprised and opened his mouth to ask what the answer was but could not find his voice. She answered anyways, "He said no." Anders let out the breath he had unknowingly been holding. "He said he was committed to you."

Ander shot a look back at Fenris. (Committed?) He blushed. "He's been… protecting me. He is always free to choose. I didn't hire him. I didn't ask him to guard me. He just… does. For some promise he made someone else." The emotions jumbled up inside Anders as he watched the elf in the rigging.

"Oh, well, if you want to be free of him, like I said, we'd happily take him on… We could tie him up, let you off in Fereldan and sail away. Then ta-da! You are free of your man and we gain a man."

Anders was still frowning. He decidedly did not like this conversation. "I don't need to be free of him."

"Right, he's committed to you." She watched Anders watching Fenris. "Oh, I see. Sorry. When he said committed, I didn't realize what he meant. He's taken vows to you. I'll not ask again." And with that she left.

Anders jaw dropped at the implication. He… and Fenris… It was almost laughably absurd! The elf looked in his direction and he quickly turned his head away, blushing again. Fenris must have used the word without realizing what it could mean. Fenris would never care a whit about him like that. He fidgeted a little while longer, glancing out at the fog for the tenth time and then lumbered away, head full of too many things.

This evening was no different with the arguments than other moment of arguing, or was it? Fenris spoke in a warning tone, "Apostate. You are hovering." Fenris was silently reading Anders' journal when the mage decided to stand close and lean over him blocking the light.

Anders straightened, "Well, it is my journal. I have a right to look. And, you stopped reading out loud. I thought maybe you were stuck on something."

"Would you rather I not read them?" He could already sense Anders was in an irrationally snippy mood, that usually came when Anders felt some sort of anxiety and that trouble was not far away, usually trouble of the darkspawn sort.

Anders didn't know why Fenris was so intent on going through them in careful order. Sometimes, neither was Fenris. Ander shrugged. "No. You asked to read them…. If you dislike me so much and magic, why do you allow me to heal you and buff you in the heat of battle?"

Fenris closed the journal wishing Anders would just sit down and maybe pass the quiet time writing, but he had run out of space in his last journal and had no blanks to continue in. "Because. It is the heat of battle and I do not want to die. Why do you allow me to read these books full of your private thoughts?" He tried, with little success to keep the annoyed snarl from his voice.

"Because…. Because…. Because it is not the heat of battle and I don't want to die."

Fenris looked up at Anders with a scowl where his eyebrows creased deep in the middle and wrinkly lines appeared over the bridge of his nose. If you had observed the dangerous elf for fear of your life for as long as Anders had, you too would recognise the different scowls. Scowls for anger, scowls for disgust, scowls for irritation, scowls for exasperation… and this one, the scowl of being perplexed by someone who said or did something that made so very little sense that they may as well have turned purple, sprouted three extra heads and green butterfly wings leaving him uncertain whether to kill it or laugh. And yet, it made sense. Anders wanted on some level to be understood and accepted.

The scowl eased and Fenris chuckled low. "Good to know you value your life now and I need not worry about babysitting Justice in a corpse."

"Oh! Is that how you see this… arrangement? Babysitting me?!" Anders snapped indignantly. "Maybe you should have told Athenril yes, that you would work for her and just be rid of me in Fereldan!" He turned on his heel to leave the small room.

"Anders!" Fenris dropped the journal on the bed, lyrium illuminating the room in a pale blue glow as he used it to increase his speed. He grabbed Anders' arm and tugged him back into the room, slamming the door shut and Anders against it. The lyrium faded. "Anders."

Fenris almost never used his name. That alone held the mage in place and he glared back at the elf.

"That is not what I meant."

Anders dropped his eyes to study their feet, one set booted and the other set bare with artistic white tattoo lines and dots. He hunched his shoulders and tried to seem smaller. He tried to not take too much notice that Fenris still had a hand clutched around his arm.

"I was trying to make a jest and clearly failing at it as I do at flattery," he confessed, releasing Anders' arm.

Anders' expression softened some, but he did not raise his eyes. "You jest well sometimes. And I am sure if it really was worth flattering, you would do just fine there too."

The elf's ears warmed to a deep pink hue through his dark skin. He was suddenly very uncomfortable with their proximity, but didn't change it for reasons he could not understand in himself yet. "What had you so upset? It is clearly nothing I have done or not done. Are there darkspawn out here? Somewhere close on the sea?"

Anders lifted his eyes in surprise that the elf had so much intuition. "Can you sense them, too?"

"No. You are the tainted Warden, remember? But you get twitchy and moody without reason and I want to hit you when they are close. Just tell me instead of twisting yourself up inside trying to figure out if we are in danger or not."

"Most of the time I sense them and they are too far for us to actually do anything about. Close enough to get my back up but not close enough to be certain of danger, until they are practically on top of us. They just… mess up my sleep and whisper in the back of my mind if there is a powerful one among them…. I'm sorry I snapped."

Fenris grunted and nodded his acceptance of the apology. He rested a hand on Anders' chest, causing the mage to stiffen with nervousness. Anders always wondered when the elf would phase his hand into his chest and rip out his heart. "Mage, if there are darkspawn, what do you need to do to be ready for them?"

Anders swallowed and almost wanted to put his hand over Fenris' as he relaxed to thinking and planning. The question was one Hawke often asked as they were about to go on mission. What did he need to do to prepare for this or that likelihood and ensured Anders had the time and space to do so. "I need to review a different set of shielding and healing spells that I learned when I was among the Wardens to reduce the chances of being tainted."

Fenris then gripped the large ring on Anders' mage coat that was under his hand and tugged the mage out of his way. "Then do so. I will inform Athenril that there may be danger." He opened the door and was gone.

Anders rubbed at his chest in wonderment where Fenris had rested his hand. "He… touched me. He didn't have to, but he did." If it were anyone else, Anders would have taken the gesture as an act of reassurance. But it was Fenris. He had no idea where he stood with the elf. After more than six years and a whole mess of actions, mistakes, and terrible interactions and communication, he just didn't know. The last several months only made that more confusing. He dared not hope, dared not trust. What if he lost it and hurt people again? What if Fenris abandoned him like Hawke did, just when he grew attached? He shook his head of the thoughts, unwilling to continue exploring their possibilities and dug through their packs for his old Warden-Mage Grimoire and began to search for the spells that would be useful in their potentially current situation. Buffs, shields, specialized healing… all things that were specific to fighting darkspawn, things he had not really looked at since Hawke brought him on that Deep Roads expedition. He started with the two most important: a bound healing spell and a shield against taint. He never got to the rest of the spells. He looked up as Fenris was yelling from the other end of the corridor, tattoos aglow in lyrium blue.

"MAGE! WEAPONS! NOW!"