Thanks for reading and the reviews!

A/N:

I think I will just add to this story and change the summery here when the time comes. At Ao3, for those that follow this story there as well, I will start it as a sequel. Thanks for the input, it helps to know what you as a reader like to see and read. But that won't be for a little while yet.

As a bit of a preview, after a few more things get wrapped up for Fenris, the boys will be heading to the Anderfels. I have always wanted to write something speculating on Anders past. For someone who was taken from his family, he has never seemed to express a desire to find out what happened to them.

My posting should go back to normal soon. I'd moved not too long ago, and between organizing the house, getting sick and my laptop exploding, it has slowed me down. Thanks for the patience!

Anders awoke to kisses peppered along the back of his neck. Fenris was tucked tightly behind him, his right arm thrown across the mage's waist, their legs tangled. They had made love-fucked, whatever label one wanted to put on it—two more times during the night.

Since they had missed the dinner bell, Anders had tiptoed down to the kitchens. The keep housed over a hundred wardens at any given time-hungry wardens. Aedan employed an army of cooks to keep the kitchens going without stop. Nothing was going to get between a hungry warden and his food. It was better than allowing the them to raid the larder, decimating any order.

They had dined on cold meat and cheese before the food had been swept away, their bodies coming together once more. Anders had climaxed that time bent over a chair, his fingers digging into the upholstery and Fenris' voice in his ear, urging him on.

Anders reached back and ran his fingers over the elf's naked hip. The third time Fenris had taken him slowly with Anders braced against the wall. Fenris had been uncharacteristically quiet. He had used his hands to speak for him, sweeping them over the broad expanse of the mage's back and chest with gentle touches. Anders' orgasm, when it came, caught him off guard. The buildup had been so agonizingly slow, that he hadn't seen it coming until he was already crying out, his cock jerking.

Stretching, Anders luxuriated in the twinges of his muscles and rolled over with a sleepy smile on his face. "G'morning," he croaked. His throat felt raw and scratchy.

Fenris moved closer and gave Anders a kiss. "Good morning," he said against his lips. That was the thing about Fenris, the elf was one of those people that could just wake up and be ready for the day. Anders needed time for his brain to catch up with his body. His eyes were wide and aware and he lacked the muzzy-headedness that permeated Anders. It hadn't always been that way. When Justice had been present, Anders had woken well before dawn most days to open the clinic. He'd also slept little and barely ate.

Touching a small bite mark on Anders throat, Fenris' lips twitched in a self satisfied smile. Anders mentally rolled his eyes. The elf had made sure to leave marks were his robes couldn't cover them.

Not that I'm complaining, mind.

It was strange not to have an audience to his inner monologues. Justice had been a presence that provided commentary and advice—but most often censure. He still wasn't use to it. It made him feel uncertain in his thoughts without someone there. It was better this way. Anders felt freer then he had in a very long time. He had never noticed the heaviness that Justice had added to his soul. Now that the spirit was gone, he felt lighter.

He still hated the templars-that would never change. But his thoughts now his own, Anders didn't see the same need for radical change that Justice had. He felt proud of what he and Justice had accomplished in Kirkwall. They had freed mages imprisoned for doing nothing more than being what they were. There needed to be reform in the circles and in the chantry, and Anders meant to see that happen in his lifetime.

But that didn't have to be spurred on by blowing up the house of the Maker.

Justice had given Anders the tools to see his fellow mages have a better life, and he would use them in the spirit's name. The Ferelden circle was different than when Anders had been there. If Aedan hadn't been blowing smoke, then Anders was going to use him to bend the king's ear. He had a chance to turn the Ferelden circle into something more. If his ideas were successful, maybe, just maybe, it could be used as a model for the other circles in Thedas.

His stomach rumbled.

But more importantly, he was starving. He craned his neck to look out the arrow slit that served as a window. Judging by the light, dawn had broken hours ago. He blew an indigent breath and his tangled hair fluttered around his face.

Fenris cast the same glance at the window. "We're late. I should have been at the practice yard by now."

"Ugh. Don't remind me. I shudder to think what they've done to the infirmary in my absence." Anders put actions to words and shivered. "Real world calls, love." He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Fenris caught his arm and Anders turned his head to peer at the elf over his shoulder.

Anders had noticed when Fenris had started spending his afternoons in the infirmary that he had a piece of strong tied to his wrist. They had never spoken of it, but it had given him hope to see a piece of himself that Fenris kept close by.

"We need to speak. Things are still not clear to me as to what Aedan plans."

Placing his hand over the one on his arm, Anders gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I know. Come to the dining hall after the dinner bell." He held up his hand to forestall any objections. Fenris never ate in the dining hall with the other wardens, preferring to eat on the run, or in his room. The elf was too use to being cut off. The wardens didn't work like that. They wouldn't continue to give him the space that his friends in Kirkwall had afforded him. Eventually, they would come looking for him.

"Just come. It's not just my story to tell." Anders made a face. "Maker knows I wish it wasn't my story at all. You have no idea how disgusting a broodmother is. It's one thing to hear about them, quite another to see one and those nipples in all its glory."

Fenris let out small, breathy laugh and released him. "Do you realize you often make little sense?"

"You say that now," Anders said as he stood and searched the floor for his clothes. "But I have eyewitnesses that can vouch for me. I'm going to need that if you want to know about the Architect." He plucked his robes off the corner of Fenris' dresser and slipped them on.

"Shit, where are my smalls?" He dropped to his hands and knees and swept an arm under the bed. Something dropped on his head and he reached up to pull his smallclothes from his face.

"They were tangled in the blanket." Fenris slipped from the bed naked and stretched. Anders felt his mouth go dry as he watched all those lean muscles moving under olive skin. Fenris' brands lovingly traced the curves of his body, accentuating them. Anders bit his bottom lip, his eyes glued to the elf. He would never get tired of looking at Fenris naked.

Who would? he asked himself. I mean look at him.

If Fenris noticed Anders' gaze, he didn't show it as he unselfconsciously walked to his dresser and opened it to pull out clean clothes.

Fenris had cajoled the quartermaster into giving him black clothes instead of the regulation blue and silver. Anders didn't know how he had done it, but so far, the elf had gotten away with not dressing like the others in the keep. When Anders had been at Vigil's Keep before, Cousland hadn't cared about how they had dressed. He still fondly remembered his Tevinter robes, and mourned the need to burn them along with the body that was supposed to have been his.

The way Aedan had been acting lately, Anders foresaw a new set of armor in Fenris' future. Taking away his old armor had been just the start. He just hoped Fenris wouldn't balk and see it as a way for Aedan to control him, and not as the assimilation that Aedan wanted.

Anders hiked up his robes and pulled his smallclothes on. He dropped them and scooped his pants up from the floor. He would have to make a trip to his room in the east wing before he could show his face in the infirmary. He needed to perform his morning ablutions and collect a clean set of clothes.

"I'm going to have a line waiting for me," he grumbled as he laced his boots. "I have to go back to my room first."

"You know," Fenris said mildly, his back to Anders as he slipped on a tunic. "You could always share this room with me. It is closer to the infirmary."

Anders lowered his hands from his boot and stared at Fenris' back while the elf combed his hair. "You want me to move in with you?" He blinked. They had spent every afternoon and evening together for weeks now. Anders practically lived here already. But for Fenris,-as private as he was- to offer to permanently share his space…

He realized he had waited too long to speak when Fenris carefully set his comb back down on the dresser, his movements slow and measured. "If you do not wish it, then forget I offered."

"No!" Anders winced when he shouted and tried again. "No. I do. You just… surprised me." A thought occurred to him. "Can I bring Pounce?"

Fenris sighed and turned, the tension in his shoulders becoming visibly looser. "The feline can come as well." He shook out a pair of leggings and slipped them onto long legs.

"Well then." Anders knew he had a goofy grin on his face, but he couldn't help himself. "I'll bring my things by tonight."

Fenris focused on the bowl of stew in front of him. He tore a chunk out of the loaf of bread in his hands and dunked it in the bowl. He could feel the eyes of the other wardens at the long table on him, and he resisted the urge to look up.

Howe he knew, the archer giving him a small smile when he and Anders had appeared after the dinner bell. As much as Howe had done for him and Anders, he had seen very little of the man since coming to the keep.

All the tables had been full to bursting as hungry wardens filled the room. The fact that there had been two empty seats at the table that held nothing but Anders' old friends, told the elf that the mage had informed them they were coming.

The only one missing was Isabela. She had said good bye earlier in the day, citing boredom now that Anders and Fenris had 'survived their Rite of Joining,' and 'drank from each other's tainted cups.' She had gone back to her ship and crew, with promises she would say hello to Hawke for them when she made it back to Kirkwall.

He wasn't sure what to expect from such an eclectic group. There were two dwarves, an elf and Howe. Oghren he had a passing acquaintance with, but he had only met Sigrun and Velanna the afternoon before going into the Fade to save Anders.

"So," Howe said slowly to break the staring contest they were having with Fenris' bowed head. "How are you adjusting?"

It was an innocent question, one meant to start inane small talk. It wasn't that Fenris didn't appreciate the sentiment, but they all knew that Fenris hadn't adjusted well. Everyone in the room knew about the elf that had beaten one opponent after another in the yard, and—consequently- almost killed the Warden-Commander's lover.

Fenris raised his eyes, his gaze skipping over the others and stopping at Howe. He sat at one end of the table, while Fenris took the other. Anders was to his right, and Sigrun his left. Oghren sat next to Anders-who was leaning as far back from the noxious dwarf as he could get—and Velanna was across from him.

"Well enough." There, he could make small talk when called upon.

It was—of course—Oghren who ruined it.

"I'll say. There's talk you could hear Sparkle Fingers singing your praises to the Maker last night." He tipped the tankard in his hand back and swallowed, some of the ale spilling out onto his beard to join the remains of his meal.

Fenris raised an eyebrow at the dwarf, a dull flush creeping up his neck. "I know a dwarf, you and he act nothing alike."

"That's because there's only one Oghren." The dwarf belched and Anders leaned further back, pushing his food away in disgust.

"You're friends with a dwarf?" Sigrun asked, her face full of bright curiosity.

"He's in Kirkwall," Anders supplied. "Varric Tethras."

Oghren threw back his head and laughed. "Tethras? They use to be nobles until the father got caught fixing Provings. They fled to the surface like cowards." He took another long drink. "Disgrace to dwarves everywhere."

"You are a fine example of a dwarf, I'm sure," Fenris said dryly.

Pausing in taking yet another drink, Oghren screwed up his face. "There's an insult in there, I can just feel it." The others at the table were captivated, their eyes moving back and forth from Fenris to Oghren.

"Drink some more. I'm sure it will come to you." Fenris bit into his bread and chewed, savoring the yeasty, fluffy taste. Aedan not only made sure his men were well fed, but that they didn't eat slop.

"Now I'm sure of it." Oghren slammed his tankard down on the table, sloshing ale on the scarred wood. "You seem sure of yourself, elf. Maybe I should come sometime to the practice yard and show these young pups how a real Grey Warden fights. We could have a match."

"If you can find it," Fenris murmured around a mouth full of stew. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Sigrun slap a hand over her mouth and giggle.

"A real Grey Warden?" Anders asked despite himself. "As opposed to the fake ones? Who would want to fake being a warden? With all the glory of being in the Deep Roads, the darkspawn and screaming in terror—can't forget that—I can see the appeal, but…" He spread his hands helplessly.

Velanna and Sigrun burst into laughter and even Howe smiled. Oghren just gave them a disgruntled sniff. "All I'm saying is that he's never fought me. There's no challenge in trying to take down wardens who have just passed the Joining." He ignored the fact that Fenris had just survived his Joining.

"Then by all means," Fenris said. "I'll look forward to it." It came to him that Oghren wasn't trying to be cruel. This was the way the dwarf made friends. As battle worn and crusty as he was, Oghren would never have offered if he genuinely thought Fenris wasn't worth his time.

Fenris didn't make friends easily. He had been sequestered away from the other slaves when he had been with Danarius. In Kirkwall, he had only just arrived when he had met Hawke, and the woman had taken it upon herself to make him feel included.

The only friends he had made on his own had been the Fog Warriors, and he had betrayed their trust in him. He hadn't wanted to get close to another, instead choosing to remain alone, or else chance turning on them if he wasn't strong enough to face Danarius again. The wardens were different. Fenris was different. For Anders, he would try and befriend them, the way he had befriended—in his own way—those that Hawke cared about.

He saw a little bit of himself in Oghren. He didn't delude himself into thinking that the wine he use to consume in his mansion wasn't dangerous. He could have easily broken his neck on the ramshackle stairs, or fallen through the floor in a drunken stupor. He was ashamed about how much alcohol he had drank, as he whiled away the hours waiting for his former master to come for him.

Hawke had known he was sure of it. She made sure to include him as much as possible on her quests, drawing him from his house and giving him little time to drink. He had always been thankful to her for it, even though they had never spoken about it.

It was Anders who pulled him out of his thoughts. "Aedan wants to bring Fenris to the Architect." He spoke quietly so those at nearby tables would not hear him. "He needs to know what he's getting into."

"Or why you object," Nate said shrewdly.

"Where to begin?" Velanna wondered.

"From the beginning," Fenris told her. He glanced at Anders. "And give me the non-Varric version. I need facts, not embellishments."

"So you don't want to hear about how I slayed three broodmothers on my own-blindfolded?" Anders pouted, making him appear childish. "Fine, but the truth is more horrifying and I cry like a little girl through most of it."

"That's different how?" Oghren asked.

By the time they had finished their story, each taking turns to fill in gaps in each other's memory, the room had cleared out, leaving them alone in the cavernous hall.

Fenris propped his elbows on the table, his fingers steppled below his chin. "He still lives then?"

"More than lives. He's thriving," Howe supplied. "For the past several years, he periodically sends for Aedan to exchange information. Aedan says he does it to make sure the Architect's recent experiments don't set off another blight, but I think there is something more to it."

Velanna cleared her throat. "I would know that one." She leaned forward, whispering even though they were the only ones in the room. "He's hoping the Architect will hit upon a way to negate the Calling. If the darkspawn can resist the lure of an old god, then why can't the wardens resist the Calling?"

Oghren let out a low whistle. "Makes sense. But what happens to us? Do we'll still turn into slavering ghouls?"

Fenris drummed his fingers on the table. He hadn't been happy when he had heard about the Calling. Thirty years had been more than he's had, but Anders had been a warden for longer. There was going to come a time when Fenris was going to have to let the mage go, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"It's all just conjecture at this point," Velanna continued. "But I think Aedan feels some guilt about it. He will gladly send his men to die in the Deep Roads to fight darkspawn, but to ask them to join when they might not survive, only to die in thirty years when they do?"

"If this Architect is knowledgeable enough about arcane and forgotten paths of magic, then he might just know what was done to me." Fenris felt a bubble of hope rise in his chest. He had always feared that Danarius would never reveal the whys of what was done to him. Or that Fenris would be forced to kill him before finding out.

"I think you've missed the part where he's a talking darkspawn, love." The endearment slipped out and Fenris shot him a glare. As big of strides as they had made in their relationship, public displays of affection were pushing it for the private elf.

"I did not miss it. I will take my chances when the time comes."

Anders threw up his hands, conceding defeat. "Aedan better take me with you. I'm not letting you go alone."

"Well isn't that cute," Oghren said in a sickly sweet voice. "I think I just might puke."

"It's all the ale you've drank," Anders pointed out.

"That too," Oghren agreed.